office-gym-7

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Anal

Subject: Office Gym – Part 7 OFFICE GYM (adult-friends, authoritarian, interracial) Author email: yo[dot]cfcf[at][dot]com I appreciate all feedback! Especially on what should happen next: read all the way to the end. Thanks everyone for your input! Part 7 I could hear people milling around me but I couldn’t see them through the leather blindfold covering my eyes. I heard waiters passing around hors d’oeuvres and glasses of champagne while male voices murmured in the background. “It’s vulgar, isn’t it? An attempt to shock the audience?” “Is it? I think it almost feels at home, familiar. Like it was meant to be. This beautiful, slight, brown body chained, immobile, subject to whatever white men want to do with it.” “I suppose so. I can pinch this dark nipple and he is powerless to do anything.” I felt a sharp pinch on my left nipple and couldn’t help myself; I flinched and winced, but the handcuffs and humbler around my legs and chained to the ground didn’t let me go that far. “Interesting you say he,” another voice said. “I see it as an artwork, an object. Yes, there is what looks like a human as a part of it, but the human has become part of the piece.” I heard others murmur in the background in agreement. I felt my cock stiffen in the chastity cage. “Look, it is leaking precum!” yet another voice said. “I think it feels at home in this position.” “Have you seen the interactive part yet?” I heard a familiar voice say. It was Master Phil. “No,” responded another man, as I felt his rough hands touch my stomach. “I thought touching istanbul travesti the artwork was interactive enough!” A group of men laughed nearby. Just at that moment, I felt the dildo in my ass start to pulsate. I couldn’t help myself as a moan escaped my throat – although it was muffled by the bit in my mouth. The audience heard the vibrating sound and I heard a few chuckles. “There is a vibrator in the ass that can be controlled by the audience,” Master Phil stated. “Interestingly, it’s in another room of the gallery. You might have confused it for a thermostat or something, but if you look closely, it’s labeled ‘intensity’ and goes from off to low to high. Part of the artist’s messaging. Ah, here he comes now,” I heard Phil say, as I heard footsteps. The group murmured and clapped. “Thank you all for coming,” I heard Master Mike say. “I heard Phil talking about the control in the other room. I think of it as a symbolizing white men’s control over brown bodies from a distant Western metropole, without them even knowing what is really going on.” “Powerful,” I heard one man say. “Indeed – and both as symbolism, and as indicating the white male art patron’s control over the art piece.” Another responded. “Is that why all of the patrons here, and even the staff, are white men?” Asked an inquisitive member. “Yes, that’s right,” Master Mike said. “It also makes sense to me that you used a brown human body, rather than a white one. And one that is short, and not well endowed,” stated another viewer. “It feels right istanbul travestileri that this human is part of the art piece, controlled by white men. A stronger, more muscular, taller, white man would not fit the bill.” The comment garnered much agreement from other viewers. “I’m glad the message came through,” Master Mike said. “Now, please, enjoy yourselves, interact with the artwork.” I heard applause as the crowd returned to chatting, eating and drinking, and playing with my body. I felt the vibrator start pulsing intensely. The pleasure was quite intense, and I felt my body sweating. My sense of time was a little warped, but I knew it was Saturday – the day after the poker game. I had been there for several hours now. Before I was put into place, I was given a medication that kept me hydrated, and preventing me from needing to use the bathroom for 48 hours. That would span the weekend – and the time Master Mike got to own me after winning. “It’s a beautiful piece,” I heard a man say to Master Mike. “Are you looking to sell it?” “You know, I hadn’t thought about it,” I heard Master Mike say, “but the offer sure is tempting.” “My name is David Andrews,” the man said. “I’m a connoisseur of sorts in the colonial art space. Most of my collection is historical artifacts, but this would be a lovely addition to my gallery in the UK.” “Is it in London?” I heard Master Ryan say. “No,” Mr. Andrews responded. “I don’t think folks in London would go for this.” I heard a small group of men laugh. “I have an estate in the travesti istanbul country, members only, for men who appreciate art hearkening back to colonial days.” “How would you even ship the art?” I heard Master Andy ask. “Well,” Mr. Andrews answered, “it would have to go through customs and I’d need to ship it either private or via one of the big shipping companies. And I would probably let the officials in charge have a little fun with the art piece as a thank you.” “Interesting; I’ve never thought of being able to sell a performance art piece,” I heard Master Mike say. “Well, yes, do you have the title to it? You can register any piece of art as property,” I heard another man say. “I’m Brian Windgate,” the man introduced himself. “I’d be interested in purchasing the piece for display in my private home. And I would use the human piece for my own pleasure use as well. It will be nice to have a human object I own legally.” “Now wait a minute,” I heard Master Ryan say. “I’d like a chance to throw my hat in the ring; I do have quite a bit of money in my trust fund. I could still use a field slave.” “Isn’t this getting a little out of hand?” I heard Master Andy whisper to Masters Phil and Mike. “I mean, didn’t we only win Diego for the weekend?” “I’m not sure he can do anything about it,” Master Phil said. “Yeah, and by the looks of all that leaking precum, he doesn’t seem to mind,” Master Mike said in jest. “Well, that or someone is really turning up the intensity.” The three laughed. And honestly? To me, it was a little of both. I wondered what would happen as I remained immobile, unable to see or speak, and incredibly turned on. *** Did the right Master win? And who should end up taking Diego home – Master Ryan? Mr. Windgate? Or Mr. Andrews? Or do you have any other ideas? Let me know!

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın