Enjoyable Occasion Treat
This narrative was challenging to categorize. It incorporates a bound man receiving intercourse from a fucking machine along with some minor rectal play through the woman who secures him. Otherwise, it solely consists of sexual discussion, mind games, and thoughts. However, for individuals who might not appreciate specific situations incorporated - there's minor Femdom, Sissy talk, Trans on Women, and Trans on men content (for a lack of a better description).
It's a rather lengthy one and might not exhibit as much sex as a few of my other stories, but it almost authored itself as I initiated typing.
I hope you appreciate it.
The music reverberating in my ears and the hood over my head obstructed the ambient noises in the area and individuals surrounding me. It also suppressed the sounds of my voice and slightly compromised my breathing.
Yet, that was the aim, wasn't it? I am a decoration, not a person. I'm not here to socialize with individuals. I'm an artistic representation. A theatrical declaration crafted by the host of the gathering, whom I most likely will never meet or even know her identification.
Nevertheless, the want ad in the local publication was like a celestial invitation from heaven. I thought it was a prank when I read it. No one could genuinely pay someone for that, could they?
I re-read the ad over and over. Time and again, it enticed me. Minute by minute, the concept enveloped my mind. Could it be a reality? Yet here I am—a naked, sexually explicit artistic expression.
It was a straightforward advertisement, no large print or highlights. Just standard want ad text, but the words confounded me.
Desired: Male display to serve as the focal point of a nude, theatrical, sexually explicit art installation for a private party. Candidates must be slender, fit, with no distinctive tattoos or other markings, and over 21. You'll be fastened, standing for various hours, with a hood over your head for anonymity and seclusion. Your ears will be plugged with noise-cancelling earbuds playing music and sexually explicit content. For further details, please contact...
Nude and tied up in a room full of people, yet completely anonymous! Could it be the truth? How many times had I fantasized about sauntering through the park at night nude and exposed? My face turned crimson and my dick got hard just thinking about it.
"Sexually explicit art installation" - what precisely did that entail? Was it some form of code? Were they searching for a prostitute or an intimate partner for their guests to have sex with?
Once more and again, I tossed the paper on the table and walked away. Over and over, I returned and re-read the ad.
Jitters and apprehension held me back from phoning. Nonetheless, my desire to be displayed and humiliated kept seducing me. Eventually, I blocked caller ID on my telephone and dialed the number.
"Helloo?" They responded after answering. "I'm calling about the art installation advertisement in the newspaper."
I could nearly sense the smile on the other end when they paused before responding.
A business-like female voice replied. "Indeed. Thanks for phoning. Do you possess experience as a nude model?"
"No. But it seems intriguing, and well..." I faltered, awkward.
"I see," she said. "Listen. Typically, I'd tactfully recommend this wasn't exactly something for a novice, but genuinely, the applicants to date have been, if I may be candid, unsuitable, and I'm starting to have apprehensions about recruiting for the role. How about I break down the details, and you judge afterward? Does that seem feasible to you?"
"Um, indeed. That would be advantageous. I truly was calling to obtain information. The ad was puzzling."
"Certainly." She sighed deep and continued.
"My client is designing an artistic intervention that will depict a bound male receiving intercourse from a dildo on the end of a robot, enclosed in a standard office cubicle setting. It's intended to be an examination of how office employees, even males, are subjugated by corporate tyrants." She sighed, once again, and continued.
"To be honest, in light of past experience with her and that cohort, I question her account. Nevertheless, assuming both parties are in consent and laws aren't violated, I abstain from judging; I simply source candidates."
She went on, "So, you'll be restrained, away from the guests, with your legs spread by a spreader bar. Comfortably spaced at least 2.5 feet. Your hands will be bound to a chair so you can hold on for support or if you feel tired. You can decide on the dildo size used on you. The pay is $200 per hour for 4 hours, but there are no breaks during those 4 hours. Ensure you can stay standing and don't need a bathroom break. This is happening on Saturday night, from 8 pm to midnight. Are your questions all answered?" After a while, she asked, "Are you still there?"
I couldn't speak. I was so flustered. My hand was in my pants, stroking my hard cock.
"Are you still there?" she asked again.
"Yes, I'm here," I said. "I... it's just so... surreal."
"So, it's... What?" she inquired.
"I'm concerned if this is really legit and legal," I admitted.
There was a pause. "This is a unique situation. I've done some crazy things, but this is new for me too," she said.
Another pause. "I can confirm that this is legal and safe. No one can touch or interact with you. It's a modeling gig, not prostitution. Somebody wants to watch, not do. It's a private party at a private residence, and so far, no kissing or other sexual acts are allowed," she reassured me.
I gathered my breath. "So, you're interested in... being with somebody," I stammered.
"Do you want the gig?" she asked.
I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to pass up this opportunity. "I am... I need to think about it," I said. I was awkwardly stroking my cock, trying to calm down.
"Wait, you're concerned. Do you think it's... wrong?" she asked, clearly frustrated.
"No, no, it's not wrong," I said, catching my breath. "It's just... hard to believe it's real."
There was a pause, and we both started talking at the same time before she regained control. "Listen," she said, slowly. "I'm sure this is all very strange. It's new to us both. But I promise it's authentic. You'll be safe and undisturbed, and I'd imagine this client won't want any bad PR or lawsuits."
I took a deep breath. "I... want it. The money, I mean. $200 an hour. And four hours without breaks is doable if we're not going too fast," I said, wondering how much energy and stamina I'd need.
"Great," she said, her tone now serious. "What about the... urination and erection issue?"
Damn, she already knew what happened! "Um... the machine won't be fast," I said, feeling awkward and ashamed.
"Okay, one more thing. You need to be in a chastity cage during the whole thing. Do you have one?" she asked, while her cynical tone was catching up to me.
I dropped my phone on my desk, face down, while furiously masturbating from the embarrassment I felt. "A chastity cage... fuck. Yeah, I've got one." I got up and cleaned my hand and seat.
After a moment, I picked up the phone. "Am I to wear one during the show?"
There was a pause. "You'll need to bring your own, as there isn't enough time to sort out sizing and fits," she said.
Oh, my fucking god. A chastity cage. I was preparing for what's to come.
"What about the chastity cage, the fucking machine, and being on display?" I asked.
"You'll need to wear one and use the machine. We won't have time to fiddle with it and test it out," she concluded.
I was red-cheeked and ashamed, muttering, "Alright, I understand." I was spent and still embarrassed.
"It's all set then. You're Saturday night, 8 pm to midnight. Good luck," she said. "Oh, and I can make it $250 per hour, if having a cage is an added bonus for you."
My heart was racing, and I added, "I'm on board. Yes, I'm available on Saturday night. I think I can withstand standing and... enduring for that long, with the machines, relatively comfortable speed. And yes, I have a chastity cage."
"Excellent. You're a lifesaver," she expressed, impressed.
"And I also need to know what happens if... if I... uh... cum?" I asked with trepidation.
"If you have a cage and you do cum, it should mess up the cage enough that it'd be visible to the audience without any issues," she replied with a wry twist to her voice.
I got nervous again. "Oh dear... This is so humiliating," I said, blushing.
"Anyway, we're all good. Like I said, this is a one-of-a-kind experience and, assuming you're not below 18, this should be sorcery. "Is that it?" I asked.
"That's it, you've got all the details you need. Enjoy, and try not to blow your load when you're not allowed," she suggested.
"I'll try," I said, cringing, while also relishing the exciting opportunity.
Oh dear, stop stuttering. You just let out your secret when I mentioned chastity cages. So clearly you're into them. Is bringing your own cage no issue? Your voice had become authoritative and stern.
My young mind took control. "No, no problem. I can bring a cage." My mother's authoritative tone turned me into an obedient child.
"Perfect." She responded nonchalantly. "Just make sure you bring one."
"What about attire?" I inquired, hoping they'd prefer something risqué or seductive.
"You'll be naked, so wear whatever regular clothes you wish." She said.
"Oh," I sighed dejectedly. "Okay."
"I see." She chuckled throatily. "You were hoping for something more risqué, right? Perhaps bondage gear, or maybe something a little more feminine?"
Oh shit! My face heated up with embarrassment. "Yes." I whispered into the phone, defeated.
"Well, we hadn't discussed that. But I can tell you, with reasonable certainty, that feminine would certainly pique my client's interest if it's appealing to you. If you could send me images of the outfit or even better, you wearing it, I can check with her. However, please ensure there're no faces or personal details in the photos."
I nearly jumped with excitement. Anonymous, public sex with a chastity cage, and potentially, if I was lucky, in heels and lingerie! It couldn't get any better!
We finalized the details and where I was to meet her today, so she could take me to her client's home. I'd receive half of the payment once I signed the modelling forms today, with the rest paid once the gig was completed.
On Saturday, the taxi dropped me off in front of a plain-looking building, just outside the high-class part of the city. There were no signs, no windows, and only a small button with a buzzer beside the door. I pressed the intercom.
"Yes?" I recognized the voice.
"Hi, this is Nate, I mean Nathaniel, I'm here for the... art project tonight. Is this Mariel?"
The door hummed as I heard the lock engage, and I entered, carrying my bag. The door closed behind me, and I found myself in a concrete stairwell. The stairs led up, so naturally, I went up.
I opened the top door, stepping into a lobby that felt otherworldly. The opulence and décor were on a different level. Rich, soft carpets. Expensive artwork and sculptures. Lavish wall paneling. A large, stunning aquarium, about 10 feet wide and 8 feet high, took up a small portion of the back wall, and lush, vibrant flowering plants filled the living areas.
The ceiling was 12 to 14 feet high and softly illuminated by recessed lighting, making the massive solid mahogany beams separating sections of fresco-painted ceilings stand out. It seemed like the paintings told the story of human history, but they were abstract, and I didn't have time to examine them further.
The woman standing 8 feet to my right was slender and tall but appeared petite to me. She smiled warmly as she came closer. Asian descent, possibly Chinese mixed with European ancestry, especially Nordic.
"Mariel?" I inquired, my voice overwhelmed by the luxury.
"Nate! Right on time! Welcome to Elite Procurement. We're the only ones left, so please relax." She extended her hand towards me.
I took her dainty hand and shook it. I'm slim and slender but my hand seemed huge compared to hers. She was about as tall as me, wearing 2-inch platform heels with her navy-blue, wide-leg pantsuit.
Her black hair was pulled up at the top of her head, and she wore expensive designer glasses and subtle makeup. Her white blouse was buttoned all the way to the neck, showing no skin, making her look like a high-level corporate executive. But her warm, friendly smile calmed me a bit.
Her age was a mystery. Based on her face and glowing white skin, I guessed she might be in her early 20s, but her posture, clothing, and presence suggested she was in her mid-30s at least.
Her eyes were the thing that pulled me in. Shaped like almonds and intensified by the touch of pinkish-bronze eyeshadow and fine black eyeliner. Her hazel irises resembled black holes nestled in the whiteness of her eyes, encircled by perfectly shaped, short, and medium-width black brows that had the same hint of red as her hair or maybe it was just the lighting that brought out the red tint.
She casually let go of my hand. "They usually come here through the service entrance. Not many of our clients actually visit, so the street door isn't used that often. It's just for deliveries."
"That's fine." I said. The clients didn't usually visit but the place was something else.
"So, let's handle the paperwork and get you ready." She smiled, and as I smiled back, she turned and walked toward a hallway on the right.
I followed her for 30 yards till we reached a door with her name scribed in giant gold letters. The name "MARIEL" was all there was, no other ranks, titles, or surnames, just her name.
She opened the door and my mouth dropped open. It was more stunning than the lobby, and the contrast between the two was just as dramatic.
Her office was breathtaking. The walls were snowy white, the floor from light maple wood that matched the ceiling panels, broken by large, bright beams. The wooden desk was topped with green tint glass, a white leathered chair accompanying it. Behind her desk, filled with pictures, sculptures and diverse art pieces, stood a monstrous wall unit made of maple and chrome. In the center of the room, two large, white leathered sofas faced each other across a marvellous maple coffee table on a Persian rug featuring patterns of indigo and gold.
The room was bathed in soft lighting, but it was the exterior wall of the building that captivated me. It was the Grand Canyon, real as can be. There were birds flying and trees swaying. I could hear the wind. Unquestionably, it was a TV screen of some sort but it was massive. It looked like it spanned 20 feet long and 10 feet high. It covered floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall without any visible seams. Her office decor probably cost more than my condo.
"I'll never get tired of people seeing my view of the world for the first time," she said as she stood by one of the sofas, beaming with pride. "Most of the other staff spent their office decorations budget on pricey art and furniture. I spent mine on this giant TV screen. Do you like it?"
"It's fantastic." I murmured in amazement, as I walked slowly towards her, my attention diverted to the view on the TV.
"I've only got three scenes thus far, but I'm about to buy some more. The problem used to be obtaining video with high resolution for the wall. It's created using a lattice of multiple cameras on a tripod stitched together in post-production. The resolution measures around 30k x 15k, using revolutionary, experimental and very confidential hardware from one of my delighted customers. I can't even begin to explain how it works, but you'll have to agree, the result is astounding!"
"What else is there?" I wanted to know
"The other two are the gardens of Versailles and a remote beach in Bora Bora. I'd so love to show it off, but unfortunately, we don't have the time." She gestured towards one of the sofas and patted the seat beside her.
I sat beside her, and she laid a thin file of paperwork in front of me. "This is a distinct modeling contract. It states that you agree to be a part of an art installation for 4 hours, during which you will endure an artificial shaft, in essence, simulating fornication. You aren't permitted to interact with the visitors or any guests at the party. Your pay is $250/hr for the entire duration, and extra payment might come if the employer is happy with your performance but it's not guaranteed. You're to avoid communicating with the guests, and there will be security on hand to ensure the guests do not attempt any interaction." She paused and eyed me.
I merely nodded and said, "Okay."
Here's the paraphrased version:
"Go ahead and read through it, stick a marker on anything that confuses you or worries you. I'm going to grab a coffee. Do you want anything? It's important to stay hydrated, but you don't want to keep needing to use the restroom, so..." She trailed off.
"Water, please." I grinned and picked up the contract.
Mariel stepped out of her office, and I began reading. The contract was in everyday language and rather simple to understand. One part mentioned "nude," so I put a sticker there. It also contained a penalty if the performer broke character; I also marked that.
The contract had only four pages, so after I finished, Mariel had returned with my water and her coffee. I took the unopened "Voss" water (expensive stuff) and popped it open. I took a sip, and as expected, it tasted like plain water, leading me to shrug and laugh.
"It's just water," Mariel laughed, comprehending my amusement. "Now, I see some markers; let's see what you marked."
"Yes, nude. I spoke with the client about the photos you sent, and she was thrilled. You'll wear pantyhose, but your private areas and buttocks will still be exposed. To clarify, it'll be difficult to argue you're not nude in court if you wear it. However, we can write 'except for lingerie,' and both of us can initial the change if you want."
"No, that's good enough. I can't walk around town in this, anyway." I turned red, and things felt surreal talking with a pretty lady about this.
"Alright, so, I noticed you highlighted 'break character.' I would've said something about it had you not. It shows you read the contract thoroughly. Being paid to be a piece of art, a still statue, and silent is exactly what it means. You've seen that, right?"
"Of course, I do," I replied.
"That implies you'll remain stationary, silent, and unmoving. If you start moving around or talking or do anything else, well, let's just be clear. The directions are that you're supposed to stand, leaning on or against an office chair, and be screwed by a screwing machine. You're allowed to feel sexual pleasure and scream in ecstasy from an orgasm, but that's all. No bathroom visits. No stopping for pain or discomfort. Four hours of being screwed! If you do anything other than stand there and get screwed, you're breaching character."
She paused, and her expression seemed worried, both for me and her reputation.
"I see, I understand that. But what's the protocol for issues? What's the lube situation, and what if someone interacts with me?" I inquired.
"The dildo is a type with a lubrication tube, which will provide lube continuously. Staff members are there to keep individuals from messing with you. Apart from that, if something goes wrong, and you need to break character, the client may be incensed and refuse payment. If I deem you broke character due to a legitimate problem, such as the lube giving out or the customer violating the terms and trying to interact with you, my company will reimburse you from our own funds after the event - that's the best assurance I can provide. Regardless, you'll receive the advance payment." Mariel explained.
She put down a $500 check on the table in front of me. I had doubts about why I was resisting or arguing about something I so desperately desired. I gazed at Mariel, nodded, signed the contract, and accepted the check.
Mariel smiled, collected the contract, and provided me with the check.
"Alright, it's"" and she examined her fancy watch, ""6:30; we need to leave here by 7:00 pm, so let's get you dressed, shall we." She stood and extended her hand to me.
I looked at her, shocked. "Here? I thought I'd change and get ready at the location."
Mariel chuckled. "Anonymity is crucial, remember? It's for your protection as well as the customer's. You'll be in the car long before we reach their manor, and you'll keep the hood on for the duration. If you think you can change and get ready while wearing the hood, we might have to do it at the location, but the client might not like it. Plus, they may pay us even a few thousand for it."
Oh crap, I hadn't even thought about getting naked in front of Mariel. My face turned as red as a ripe tomato. I was a mix of fear, excitement, embarrassment, and arousal. But what worried me the most was my growing erection, and I hadn't put on my cock cage yet. I was terrified that she'd see me and think I was weird.
Mariel tilted her head, looked at me with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. She shook her head and said, "Nate, you're about to be seen in the buff by a whole room full of people. You signed up for this. So, getting naked in front of me should be no problem."
She held out her hand, indicating that I should stand up. "Up! Now!" she demanded.
I hesitated, but she insisted, "Now, damn it!"
I obeyed her order and took her hand. She led me to the back of her office where I noticed a door with a beautiful Japanese cherry blossom-patterned divider and a large bonsai tree.
"You can change in the bathroom over there. You're carrying your stuff, right?"
I nodded, still feeling nervous.
"If you put the hood on now, you'll have to take it off in the car to put in the earbuds. Also, you'll need to put on the ankle cuffs now, or it'll take up too much time at the client's place."
She pushed me towards the bathroom door, and I shuffled forward, clutching my bag in front of me to hide my bulging erection.
Once inside the bathroom, I was in a massive room, larger than my kitchen at home. It was as luxurious as her office, with white marble tiles, warm maple cabinets, and black quartz countertops. There was even a shower big enough for half a dozen people.
I stood frozen at the door, still unable to think straight. Mariel swatted me on the ass, shocking me. "Hurry up and dress!" she ordered. Then she left, shutting the door behind her. Her command sent me into action, and I obeyed without question, as I had been trained to do.
Fifteen minutes later, I was admiring my reflection. I was 5'5", pale, and hairless. I was dressed in black and nude, crotchless pantyhose with patterned crotches that looked like regular panties and stay-up stockings with Cuban heels and a seamed back. They stayed up well, and I liked them because they looked as good as real crotchless panties.
My favorite black stiletto-heel sandals rested on my feet. The front had stretchy black elastic crossbands, showing off my feet and my stocking-covered toes with painted nails. They were comfy enough to wear all day while playing with self-bondage. My ankle cuffs were fastened above them, giving off a dominating feel.
Though small, my cock was encased in a gorgeous stainless steel chainmail chastity cage with a lock. The keys were in my bag, and there were two hidden at home for security.
My chest was completely bare, and I wished I'd brought a bra or camisole. I hadn't planned that far ahead and was unsure how much I could push my sissy outfit without messing up this job.
I was debating about wearing the black spandex-like hood when Mariel reentered the bathroom, "Nate, are you ready to go? We have only ten minutes left." She knocked on the door.
My heart raced as I looked at the hood, then my reflection, then the door, and back at the hood. I was about to grab it when she walked in and declared, "Get dressed!"
"Wow!" She whispered softly in amazement. "You look incredible." Appraising me as if I were a sculpture at an art gallery. Unabashedly leering at me and appreciating what she saw.
I blushed a deep red from the shame of being objectified, but I also couldn't help but feel an immense sense of pride. My phallus stirred and started to stiffen in its harmless prison.
Mariel approached me, standing just behind me but not touching me. She continued to admire my physique in the massive mirror over the counter, nearly leering at me. "Yes. I can confidently say that the client will be thrilled with your appearance." She smiled kindly at me in the mirror, nodding approvingly.
"Thank you," I mumbled softly, filled with joy. This stunning woman thought I was attractive. I could feel it. I wanted desperately for her to touch me, to wrap her arms around me and kiss my neck and shoulders.
"So, do you want the hood now or later?" Mariel inquired as she picked up the hood from the counter. She made sure not to touch me but was still much closer than societal norms allowed.
I looked up into the mirror and found that she was still staring at me directly, not seeing herself in the mirror. I was frozen, unable to make eye contact and unable to answer. Too many thoughts whirred through my mind that they may explode.
Mariel remained fixed on me for a few moments, then grew impatient. "Alright, we'll do it later then." She growled with frustration, then turned and walked out of the bathroom, leaving me alone.
My heart sank. My spirit crushed. I could feel tears beginning to form in my eyes when Mariel stepped in again. "Nate! Get moving! Now, Goddammit!"
Her command shook me and made me move. The inner programming from my mother was in full force. I dabbed the tear that had formed in the corner of my eye. Picked up my bag, which now contained my street clothes, and strutted out into Mariel's office.
She hadn't waited to see if I'd follow; she was already at the exit door, so I continued my journey across her office. Walking with ease in my heels, having been practicing for years. Maintaining eye contact with Mariel, who was still ogling me. Her eyes scanned from my head to my feet and back up, lingering a fraction too long on my shackled member. When her eyes met mine, she knew she'd been caught. She almost blushed.
She opened the door and held it for me but stood in the doorway, so I had to get closer as I exited her office. Outside, Mariel led me back to her office and to an elevator with wooden doors, nearly invisible if you didn't notice them.
We rode the elevator to the underground garage in silence. When the doors opened, we ventured through the small lobby and out into the well-lit parkade. A black Mercedes AMG GT 63 four-door coupe sat just outside the glass doors.
Mariel walked across the small lobby and opened one of the glass doors, holding it open for me. I followed her lead and entered the garage, which surprisingly didn't smell of gasoline, rubber, and urine, like most underground parkades in the city.
She moved to the car, opened the back passenger door, and signaled for me to get in. I was surprised but did as she told me - approaching the car and using her offered hand to enter its luxurious interior. Having my behind touch the cool leather seats sent electrifying jolts through me.
Mariel closed my door, made her way to the driver's seat, and entered the opulent car. "Considering your attire, it would be best if you sit in the back, hidden from view by the blacked-out windows, don't you think?"
Relieved, I sat in the back. She wasn't treating me like luggage. She was safeguarding my anonymity and privacy.
"If you're cold, you can adjust the temperature and heat or cool the seats from the center console at the back." And with that, she started the car.
The imposing Mercedes engine roared to life with a glorious throaty roar. Mariel revved the engine a few times, grinning at me in the rearview mirror as she did. "I simply adore this fucking car!" She exclaimed, shifting the car into gear and driving us out of the underground garage.
Leaving the garage was a two-part procedure. First, an interior door opened, and we stepped into a small area between two gates. After the interior door closed, we waited a few minutes for some vehicles to pass by. I observed Mariel watching a display mounted to the left of the wall. It displayed the road in front of us. When the display no longer showed any more cars, Mariel pushed a button on her dashboard. The exterior door swung open, and she sped away from the garage, turning left onto the street with no interruption. I didn't know of any exit system quite like that, and I thought about asking for more information, but I figured it was best to mind my own business.
Mariel glanced at me in the rearview mirror, then returned her attention to driving. After a block, she spoke up again. "There's a case on the seat next to you. Inside, you'll find headphones, a music player, and instructions if needed. However, the headphones should already be paired to the system and prepared to play." She checked to make sure I was paying attention.
I looked from her in the mirror to the box and responded, "Okay."
I took out the high-end headphones from their box, which seemed to activate them when I did so. They molded to my ears, and both headphones chimed, 'pairing,' then 'connected' as I got them situated in my ears. Even without any music playing, all outer noise had been canceled out. The headphones' noise-cancellation function was clearly top-notch.
I picked up the ordinary-looking player and inspected it. It had all the common buttons, so I clicked 'play,' and both headphones rang to life. The music I was hearing through my bones and eyes was silenced. All I heard was the heavy bass and strong beat of the techno music coming from the headphones. The music seemed to be made from our previous phone conversation. I'd emailed Mariel a few URLs for extended, techno-driven YouTube videos that I frequently listened to, such as 'Dark Techno' by 'Aim To Head.' Mariel had also requested pornography links, but I sent her only 'Gooning' videos, not the 'Sissy Hypno' I have as my main choice.
I stared at the mirror as I snapped out of my daydream, where I noticed Mariel speaking, but her voice wasn't audible. I contemplated taking out one of the headphones, but her voice could be heard through them. "Can you hear me now?" She inquired.
I replied, "Yes," but apparently, I spoke too loudly since I couldn't hear my own voice. "Yes, yes, but you don't have to shout. You can stop the music if you don't want to listen by pressing pause, but keep the headphones in and put on the hood. Do not look out the window or I'll have to stop until the hood is on."
I picked up the hood that Mariel was holding on her right shoulder and took it from her. I fought the urge to look out the window to determine where we were right now.
The hood was made of spandex or something similar, black, and very lightweight. A leather collar was built into the neck opening so it could be fastened. However, there was a sewn-in, rigid band running over the top of the head and beneath the chin, which gave the hood form even when not being worn. As I flipped the hood partially inside out in order to put it on, I noticed the band was a large zip-tie, embedded in the hood, meant to restrict my mouth.
I shrugged, carefully put the hood over my head, and adjusted it with the zip-tie under my chin and my nose at the holes. Once it was appropriately positioned, Mariel's voice came back to me through the headphones.
"I'm sure you saw the zip-tie and collar. Do not fasten them yet. We might need to communicate before arriving. Can you breathe okay? Is the hood comfortable? Do you foresee any problems with wearing it for several hours?"
"Nope, it's comfy. Some minor restrictions on my breathing, but taking deep breaths through my nose provides sufficient air, so there will be no issues."
"Fantastic. We should arrive in roughly 5 more minutes. I had forgotten to ask, but please let me know if you went to the bathroom before we left. If needed, I'll give you some water, but the client will be angry if you ask to use the bathroom before this session begins."
I smiled behind the mask and considered playing with Mariel. However, I decided against it. "Yep, I already did go, and no, I don't require any more water."
We'd turned many corners in the past few minutes, and now the Mercedes was taking long curves and going uphill fast, hugging the road and growling loudly. I could almost feel Mariel's excitement as the giant, extravagant sports car drifted up the slope. A sudden, sharp turn to the right, and we came to an abrupt stop.
Mariel opened the window on her side of the car, and a strong, chilly breeze blew on my bare chest. I couldn't make out anything she was saying because of the noise, but I guessed she was talking to someone. I felt the lid of the trunk bang shut and understood that they must be soldiers searching the car. I blushed and trembled with excitement thinking they'd seen me sitting in the back seat, naked except for some lingerie, high heels, and a chastity device. I could feel my body burning with embarrassment, and it was thrilling.
The car moved again, and her window closed. We traveled slowly for another minute or two, then Mariel stopped. Her voice came in my earplugs again. "Wait here for a while, I'll return soon."
After a minute or two, the back door on my side of the car opened, and Mariel's voice came through the earplugs again. "I'm going to grab your hand and help you out of the car. Then I'll put a long, light coat around you to shield you from curious eyes. I would have put it on before, but the gate guards would have made you exit and search you if I had."
Mariel helped me climb out of the plush backseat and wrapped a knee-length coat around my bare skin. It kept me warm but wasn't too heavy - obviously a stylish raincoat of some sort. Then she put a big, floppy hat over my head, wrapped her arm around me, and led me forward. This all happened quickly, and I was wondering if anyone was watching. I got chills and excitement at being in public like this.
There were no steps to climb, and apart from "step over the sill in front of you," there was no talking. The pulsating beat of the techno music was almost deafening, and my only sensation was touch.
"Ready?" came Mariel's voice in my earbuds. "We've arrived. I'm going to remove your coat and hat and help you find your place. Just stay silent unless I ask you a question; you're timed now."
I wanted to respond but just nodded instead. The hat and coat were taken off, and apart from feeling my privates getting a bit cooler, the surrounding temperature was comfortable, and the ground didn't seem slippery.
Mariel took my hands and led me a few steps forward. She then placed them on the back of what clearly was a high-backed office chair. The chair didn't move or swivel, and it would provide firm support for my upcoming captivity. I examined it with my hands. The cushioning was deep, and the material was velvet-soft, almost sensual, leather. Several thick straps of hard leather encircled the upper back, where handcuffs had been attached. Below them, I could feel the armrests, but I wouldn't be able to reach them once my wrists were cuffed.
"Now let's fasten the handcuffs," Mariel instructed through the earbuds. "Nod if it's OK."
I nodded and felt a handcuff clip around my right wrist, then my left wrist. She turned them to make sure they weren't too tight and whispered, "All good?"
I nodded a few times and stayed still. "Great, great. Next, the spreader bar. Spread your legs apart to a comfortable distance. We'll see if you need to spread them wider or if the bar already fits." Mariel instructed in my earplugs.
I reached back and grabbed the chair to stay steady as I moved my legs apart slowly. When my heels began to feel unsteady, I moved my legs back a bit.
"Perfect," Mariel whispered. "I don't even need to adjust the bar - it's as if it was made for you."
I felt her clasp the bar to my right ankle and then my left ankle. I gasped and took a breath as her hands brushed up my left leg while she stood. "Sorry about that; I lost balance," she whispered.
That was an outright lie, I thought. She'd just touched my nylon-covered leg. But I was elated. She'd said it was her first time involved, but if it was, she was no stranger to nudity in public or unusual situations. I was wondering about the kinds of bizarre activities she'd been involved in, and my penis started to grow in its cage.
"Alright," Mariel murmured softly. "Almost at our final stop. There's only one thing left to confirm. Let me verify that the dildo, as requested, measures six inches in length and approximately one and a quarter inches in diameter. It's quite soft and flexible, and it has balls on the end, ensuring it won't go all the way in. Damn, I should've freed your arms so you could do this yourself. Oh well, it's too late now. Are you prepared, Nate?"
The mention of my name caught my attention, making me feel slightly vulnerable as I noticed she seemed to recognize me. Instruction from her caused my body to respond with a sudden rush of blood to my cheeks, making me feel as if I'd been exposed to the sun.
Mariel appeared amused by my reaction and continued, "Heh, heh, heh. Relax, Nate. You're almost there. Adopt the proper position. Let's get your eagerness turned into an ass impaled on this charming little dildo."
Though I hesitated at first, Mariel's slap against my left knee welcomed her voice back into my earbuds. "Nate! Now! Push your ass back and bend over!" Her slap caught me by surprise, motivating me to move quickly.
As my body followed her orders, I felt an inner warmth as Mariel's fingers slipped inside my ass both lubed it and stretched it out. Her careful preparations made me almost enthusiastic as I submitted to the process.
Unfortunately, she retracted her fingers and allowed the dildo to enter my ass. Her voice returned. "Here we go, Nate. Remember? This is what you craved. For a while, it's been just you, her, and a couple of strong security guards. They're there to protect you, but soon you'll be in front of many people. Your backside will be wide open with a black dildo penetrating it while everyone watches. Oh, and you have a remarkable ass. I could see your member twitching, Nate. Are you excited for this, Nate? Moan for me if you're thrilled, Nate. I need assurance that you're on board before I leave."
I obliged and let out a moan as I allowed her to view the effects of her words in my body. It suddenly struck me that she never tied me up and hooded me, and I almost voiced this concern when Mariel interrupted my thoughts.
"Good boy. I'll consider your silent consent reliable. I'll secure the zip-tie and hood now. Once that's taken care of, the machine will be put in place, and then we'll start it up. This is your last chance to stop this without causing a scene. Shake your lovely ass for me if you're good to go."
Refusing to decline, I disobeyed the cautioning part of my mind and proudly exhibited my posterior as several balls gently slid into my ass.
"Good boy. Everything's ready on this end. Now relax while I finish up with your hood." Mariel made sure the zip-tie wouldn't pain me by investigation the hood's edge until it met the tie beneath my chin. Upon deeming it comfortable, she spoke again, "Okay, sexy model. Time to get this underway. It's 8:03 right now. Our start time has been slightly pushed back, so we'll reconvene around 12:10 to release you. Someone from the staff will handle the voice command for the duration. Barring any interruption or performance termination, you won't hear any voices outside until I return. I'm turning on the machine now. Nod when you've found the speed you prefer."
I did so in response to her insistence on maintaining privacy for the staff while still assuring me of visual contact. Maybe advertisements were more powerful when they were interactive and voyeuristic.
The dildo sprang to action and initiated penetration from my backside. Approximately 2 inches later, it began to retract before thrusting back in. This depth felt suitable and should pose no issues, aligning with the conversation Mariel and I had had previously over the phone.
The dildo gradually picked up speed, reaching around 1 insertion per second, or possibly a bit slower. At this pace, I nodded, and the tempo remained constant. This speed was necessary to endure for the next 4 hours. Previously, I've discovered that if the dildo moved too slowly, I'd register every jolt and beat, causing an unbearable anguish. Additionally, I knew that hard dildos strongly stimulated my prostate, while soft dildos like this one allowed prolonged infiltrations.
In my home environment, I would've certainly accelerated the dildo's speed, but at present, I had to sustain this pace for four hours. If I didn't climax before time expired, I'd potentially struggle to avoid self-fucking the machine, breaching the prearranged role. However, if I enjoyed an orgasm, I didn't wish to make it difficult to continue.
A hand lightly touched the middle of my back before vanishing. My interpretation was that it was a delicate farewell gesture from Mariel before she left. It's likely she wasn't attending the party... Then, I was left alone with my thoughts.
For the initial minute or two, my thoughts were consumed by the dildo. Subsequently, the music re-emerged in my consciousness. Despite being secondary during Mariel's setup, it was now capturing my attention, and I was growing fond of it. The music possessed no vocals but consisted of a thumping techno beat. My affection for it so strong that I had to strive to prevent my head from moving to the music.
As my mind wandered, it pondered the purpose of the exhibit. Similar to Mariel, I doubted the client's explanation. Was this a fetish party, or was the hostess provoking her guests? Had the security personnel witnessed my display? What thoughts did they have about a man in pantyhose having a dildo inserted into his buttocks? Were other partygoers checking me out? Were they engrossed in other dalliances or entirely indifferent to my presence? My emotions oscillated rapidly.
Attempting to relax and submit to the music's rhythm, I observed my mind traversing new dimensions of fantasy and dread. Was I situated in someone's mansion for a private bash? Who attended the party? Why did Mariel protectively accompany me from the car to the house? Were photographers stalking us? Perhaps I was subjected to a more public setting than a private dwelling.
I seemed to float in an atmosphere of sound and sensation, with my mind diverging onto diverse, stimulating, and frightening ideas. Had I genuinely attended a unique event? Who was present? Mariel had concealed my identity when escorting me from the car to the house. Were we at a private residence? Was I on display?
I had no concept of time. The music's transitions failed to provide temporal cues. Even though tunes occasionally altered in intensity, there were no clear musical boundaries.
Despite floating in a realm of noise and sensations, my thoughts drifted to the notion that I was out in the open. I craved human interaction, yearning to have bystanders break the agreement and taunt and provoke me. They could brush their hands down my back, causing me to jolt in response. Fingernails could rake across my restricted and immobile parts. My nipples could be pinched and pulled. They could adjust the dildo's pace, taxing my mental state.
Or better yet, I desired individuals to seize the machine from my body and utilize me. I desired hands supporting my hips as they thrust an enormous dick or strap-on into and out of my rectum while an eager audience cheered, laughed, and taunted me. These ideas aroused thrilling and shameful impulses. While these thoughts incited exhilaration, I discerned a caveat.
I craved physical interaction. My thoughts were fixated on having the partygoers violate the arrangement. They could tease and molest me while I remained powerless and immobilized. They could grasp my pelvis while humping a sizable phallus, or strap-on, into my rectum, and an audience could cheer, chortle, and ridicule me.
While these thoughts were intoxicating, I acknowledged a shortfall. My isolation made me long for human bonding. With this awareness, I was intent on obtaining the interaction I craved.
While my thoughts roamed about, I discovered that, mostly, I desired for Mariel to come back. I longed for her to tease and mock me while playing with my butt, just like when she had placed me here. Her playful banter had been exceptional, much like her scrumptious tiny ass, which appeared before me down the hallway of her office building. My musings drifted even further in her direction, gradually removing her garments while the relentless vibrator continued its unyielding invasion of my sopping moist anus, and time slowed to a crawl.
However, I began to hear voices. Were there some concerns with the earbuds? Had the host abruptly dismissed me? Had there been an issue that led the security personnel to converse with me?
Slowly, I comprehended that it was the "sexually explicit" content mentioned in the ad that I was hearing. Indeed, it had apparently started to increase in volume, which had me a bit puzzled.
Yet, as it had become louder, I identified that it was dialog from Gooning films I'd forwarded to Mariel. However, the voice was different, irresistibly captivating.
The addition of this sexy voice made my situation even more thrilling. I'd been struggling to stay still in one spot and thought I was doing a commendable job. But my butt had been prepared for a considerable amount of time, and an unavoidable orgasm was fast approaching. Considering that I was on public display in underwear and heels, this impending orgasm wasn't going to be your garden-variety orgasm; it was going to be a mind-blowing experience. Thus, I've attempted to entrench my mind and body as if I were an art piece to sustain my immobility.
The clock continued to relentlessly tick, agonizingly slow.
I've navigated multiple minor anal climaxes throughout this process. My abdomen clutched, and my butt spasmed. But I managed to recover my composure and relax again.
The clock somehow made its inexorable progression forward.
My feet grew weary - not uncomfortable, merely exhausted - and I began to ponder how much more I could endure. I was confident I'd feel this in the future.
Since I was not restrained in one position, I could adjust my back's height, use my arms and chest, bend my knees, or lift up on my toes to attain some relief. I had taken these actions sparingly, realizing that should I succumb to an orgasm, I might require the chair prop. And I was supposed to maintain my stillness if I wasn't cumming - so that was also of concern.
Forgotten was the distraction of the voices; I was wholly absorbed in the task at hand.
Suddenly, the voice in my earbuds changed. I didn't promptly recognize the new voice, but after a moment, it clicked. It was Mariel. She recorded a voice-over and was engaging with me directly.
"If you're listening to this, Nate, you're a f*cking stud. This signifies you've been receiving anal intercourse for 3 hours. Three hours, Nate! A dildo has been sliding in and out of your adorable little ass, causing me to moisten myself simply by thinking about it. Jesus, I'm getting wet now. I'm sliding my fingers in and out of my vagina, Nate. Can you imagine me, Nate? Sitting in front of you, my legs spread wide, my vagina spread out, I'm using my other hand to stimulate my hard, throbbing nipple. Oh, fuck! I just came. I want you to come too, Nate! Orgasm while thinking about my lovely body!"
The voice drastically transformed, progressing from innocent girl-next-door to enticing courtesan, followed by an intense inflection.
I obeyed, orgasming. My cock swelled as much as it could in its constraining chainmail cage. My butt constricted around the dildo that jabbed into my anus, and my mind burst from the inescapable orgasm that had been building for hours, causing me to shudder. My head rocked back, and my mouth attempted to gape open, but the zip-tie and hood prevented this. My legs yearned to snap shut, but my feet were immobilized by the spreader bar. My arms and hands spasmed euphorically, and I cried out from agony and ecstasy. Jet after jet of cum ejected from the tip of my dick, wholly unaware of where it was discharged. If this infringed upon my character, then so be it; I didn't care. Mariel had just pressed my psyche much harder than the vibrator that was still penetrating my anus.
My head rolled back, and my mouth appeared to attempt to open, but the zip-tie and hood limited this movement, while my legs desired to remain closed, but the spreader bar hindered this, too. My arms shook, and my hands crushed the cushions of the chair, tightly gripping them as I screamed with delight. The magnitude of the orgasm that had been successfully suppressed for hours sufficed to overwhelm me, leaving me in a mystified state.
Just after experiencing a substantial explosion, Mariel's voice pierced through my earbuds once more. "You just came, didn't you? In front of all these people. You naughty slut, you. Amongst businessmen, women, leaders of industry, bankers, lawyers, mistresses and masters, dominants and submissives; they all witnessed you being fucked and cumming. It's not the machine doing it, you perverted thing." Mariel's mirthful laughter echoed through the earbuds.
"Do you come again, Nathan? Does my voice excite you that much? Are you imagining my tight bod? I'm suggesting you're envisioning me getting fucked. Does that excite you, my dear? However, who's fucking me, Nathan? Just like you, I ain't ordinary. I adore trans ladies. Elegant, feminine goddesses with smooth skin, enticing boobs, and robust cocks. Can you visualize my dainty pussy being fucked by beautiful women with gigantic dicks? Probably you're thinking about me being butt-fucked like you. Our two bods, facing one another, being penetrated by magnificent trans-women. Those magnificent dicks moving in and out of our tight holes. Both of us displaying the 'O' face. Leaning on each other while our goddesses penetrate our pussies. Oh, my god, Nathan! Oh, fuck, yes! Cum with me, Nathan. I require you to cum!"
And I did. Very similar to the initial ordeal, I trembled and strained as a second mammoth orgasm rampaged through my body. Cum surged out of my dick and splattered on the floor. The skin/meat between my dick and balls, and my taint convulsed ferociously.
My butt clenched down on the blasting machine with such might that the thrusts stopped. The cock was lodged too deeply into my ass, and I was too arched over to force it out of my anal canal, but my body rallied tirelessly to free itself.
Gasps fought to emanate from my lungs, but after a minute (possibly more minutes), my body started to ease up. The blasting machine commenced moving once more, and after just 10 to 15 thrusts, another orgasm seized hold of me. This one a pure anal one, centered in my anal cavity. I grumbled, and my abdominal muscles contracted & attempted to push the dick out of my ass. But my brain thwarted that effort and forced me back towards the blasting machine to prevent this.
This sequence persisted around twelve times before I acquired the power to recoup myself. Breathing normalized. My gut relaxed. My sphincter unwound. My ass-fucking endured a fresh wave of tolerability. I veered toward taming my psyche, advocating over and over, "You're a sculpture. You're an art. Stationary artwork doesn't budge. You're stationary. Art is static!"
Unfortunately, Mariel's voice imposed again, "30 minutes remaining, Nate. Are you still here? Ought I make you cum again? Can you handle it? Are you embracing, entirely from the sound of my voice? Is your tushy pussy clenching and flexing?" Her heartwarming, pleasant, and inviting laugh mocked me.
"Ought I tell you a secret, Nate? Care to know?" She delayed for effect. "You were getting fucked tonight while I traveled to my trans-babe and got tenderized. I'm en route to collect you now, Nate. Would you be willing to journey over to my place and meet my girlfriend? She yearns to meet you, in a juicy sense. We're smitten with fellows like you. Teasing and tormenting them. Pummeling their tushy pussies 'til they beg for relief. Then sexing them to a frenzy."
Oh, fuck. Mariel proposed inviting me to her residence for a coupling with a trans-woman. My butt seized around the dick in my ass, my groans contorted, and I weakened trying to relax and not ejaculate again, during which I lost track of her words.
"... putting on makeup and a bright pink wig."
What did I overlook? What the fuck was that? My body trembled violently, causing me to groan, and clashed, and lost my grasp on her words.
"... on your knees, servicing her mighty knob. You should behold her penis, Nathan. It's splendid. 8 inches of might, with scalp-smooth, juice-filled bollocks to slap your chin when driving your face. Does that arouse you, Nathan? It sure arouses me. I'm undressing my groin just imagining it. Oh, God, yes! I can picture her grooving into your girlie face. Bearing your pink wig. Screaming in bliss as she ejaculates a massive load into your oral canal. Oh, fuck, I'm cumming once more, Nathan."
My body went rigid, and I experienced another intense anal orgasm. My testicles tightened, but no semen came out. My sphincter gave way again, interrupting the thrusting mechanism of the machine. If it were still thrusting, the cock would've been ejected from my anus. I was standing on tiptoes this time. Every muscle in my body was tense. I cried out from both pain and bliss.
"Have you tasted your own semen, Nate?" Pause. "Of course you have. All femboys have tasted their own cum. Maybe we should poke a hole in your hood and force you to lick up your semen before we let you go. We've got only a few minutes left, Nate. I'm right outside the door. Are you cumming? Are you about to have an orgasm?"
The stream of sound stopped abruptly. The music stopped playing. It felt like everything came to a standstill. I battled through the final moments of my orgasm and began to calm down. My breath hitched, then smoothed out. Slowly, my back relaxed and my sphincter loosened. The motionless dildo appeared to have been switched off. It seems like Mariel was watching me. She must've seen me climaxing in response to her voice.
If I thought about it, I should've been furious, embarrassed, and heartbroken. Yet, I wasn't. I was simply too drained. The tension in my body started to ease.
"Nate, are you alright?" Mariel's voice echoed through my earbuds, "Don't get worked up. Believe me, the hostess is ecstatic with your performance, which means a large tip for you if you don't squander it. Try not to yell at me if you're upset, but you can wait until we're done if you'd rather scream at me." Then, louder, "Are you all right? Nod if you understand."
I gave a feeble nod. At this time, I couldn't decide if I was filled with anger towards her. I didn't comprehend my emotions. What I did know was that, besides sheer fatigue, I had a fantastic experience. The dialogue from Mariel - it couldn't have been any better. I grinned inside.
"... Remove the machine now." I knew I'd miss something else. "Hey! Are you alright? I'm pulling out the device. Would you please relax for me? Nod if you're fine."
I managed a weak nod. I was too fatigued to function properly. I felt the dildo slowly being pulled from my butt, and soon, a cloth was wiping my anus, my buttocks, and my legs. Once my legs were done, it wiped between my buttocks, removing the remainder of the lube that had circulated within me and through the dildo all night long for four hours.
The spreader bar was unhooked, and graceful hands - Mariel's hands - aided in moving my heels together. My inner thighs burned and shook with exertion, almost causing me to collapse. Powerful arms lifted me under each arm and held me upright. I struggled to keep my feet on the ground, relying on the men's support to guide me to the backseat of Mariel's car and help me inside.
When they released me, I sunk sideways. This was the last thing I recall.
"Oh, Nate! Nate!" A girl is gently stroking my cheek and wiping my forehead with a warm cloth.
I opened my eyes with difficulty. I found myself staring into the face of Mariel. Her expression was one of fear and anxiety. "Good, you're awake," she said. "I was prepared to call a doctor, but you've been unresponsive for about two hours. Are you feeling alright? Can you speak? Do you need anything?"
My throat was dry and scratchy. "Water," I managed to utter, but my voice was a low moan.
"Get him some water, and some sort of utensil for drinking it with," Mariel said to an unseen person. She crouched beside me. "You've been so out of it that I didn't know where you stayed. I couldn't merely drop you at a hotel and leave you, so I brought you to our guest bedroom after finishing with you."
I glanced at my surroundings, which were quite dimly lit, yet I could tell it was a comfortable room. I doubted it was Mariel's bedroom - it seemed too impersonal, but it was still a cozy space. "Where exactly am I?" I put out weakly.
I attempted to sit upright, but she prevented me by putting her hand on my chest. Surprisingly, it wasn't pressing directly on my skin; instead, she was pressing a flannel pajama top into my body. For a moment, I was puzzled and hesitated before ultimately giving in and lying back down.
"Charlene brought you into the house," Mariel explained, "and we took off your shoes and pantyhose and changed you into these comfortable pajamas. We didn't want you to wake up naked, so we decided to dress you. We also thought you might like a shower before getting into your regular clothes."
"Thank you so much," I said, as fluently as I could manage.
Charlene walked back in and held a bottle of water with a straw next to my face.
Mariel had been right. Charlene was stunning. She had long blonde hair and a rounded, feminine face. Her eyes were a captivating blue. However, she was also very large - easily six feet tall. She towered over both Mariel and me.
I tried to reach for the water, but she placed her fingers on my hand and guided the straw to my mouth. I gratefully took a long sip, satisfying my thirst for the tasty liquid. As the astonishing discovery dawned on me, I realized that I had low blood sugar, which accounted for my confusion.
With a heavy sigh of contentment, I relaxed back against the pillows. "Thanks. That's really helpful."
"Do you want to go home now?" Mariel inquired cautiously, worried that I might be upset with her and her recording of audio for me earlier. "We'd like for you to stay, but we'll take you home if you prefer. Would you like to leave?"
With a lazy smile, I responded, "A good night's sleep sounds wonderful. I had a fantastic time..." I closed my eyes, exhausted, and succumbed to the cozy embrace of sleep.
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