The Gallery

The soft creaking of leather and almost musical clinking of chains filled his ears, but behind that was another nearly constant sound. Quiet, almost barely voiced moaning and whispered pleadings, punctuated with gasps of pleasure or pain. It was all dark for Andrew, the supple leather covering his eyes effectively cutting out even the smallest glimpses of light, but he knew full well where he was. The “Gallery”, She called it. A living, breathing, moaning and whimpering art exhibit of straining, needful bodies. He counted himself lucky to be here, on display to the throngs who would soon arrive to sip cool, sparkling champagne and eat savory foods, walking amongst the bound and aching bodies in designer suits and dresses, expensive Italian leather clothing their feet a sharp contrast to the utilitarian leather wrapping the wrists and ankles of those on display.

Andrew found himself swaying slightly in his bonds, holding back on voicing the moans that the thought of those people coming into the Gallery brought to the surface. He thought himself too well schooled to show so little restraint, but it was difficult, especially when all around him he could hear those who couldn’t keep silent. Instead his breath came quickly through his nostrils, little realizing it made him sound a bit like an overworked animal. And, really, wasn’t that what he was? A fine piece of flesh, put on display for the amusement of the idle rich. He could feel his cock swell at the notion, pushing against the strap that encircled the base and tugging the strap between his balls a bit tighter. There was little he could do to stop it and, really, it would please Her all the more to find him, hanging in darkness, aroused in spite of himself.

Her...She...he rarely thought of Her by the name She had given him when they met anymore. It was so common, these days, to meet someone on the Internet and, in a matter of moments, form a complex relationship with them mysterious to so many who have never had the experience themselves. There is some sort of tie there, unexplainable to the uninitiated, of exploring the psyche at first contact, rather than having to push through the societal boundaries imposed on initial meetings. So they had become friends, and soon more than friends, as She probed into his fantasies and desires. Things that he rarely, if ever, told anyone else, except those anonymous strangers on the other end of a keyboard. It wasn’t long before She knew exactly where his buttons were, the switches and levers to his inner being, and began to...dismantle him, is the only word he could think to put to it. Tearing him down, one erotic image at a time, until he came to see his desires as not deviant or strange, but something to be cherished. She certainly cherished them, helping to explore each twist of his erotic self.

At Her suggestion, he purchased a webcam and some other items, including his first cockring and a thick, realistic dildo that he felt himself blushing about as he paid for. In the privacy of his own bedroom, She watched as he slipped on the ring for the first time, and writhed as he felt the pressure in his cock growing, blood pounding against his flesh. Spurred on by Her, he licked and sucked the dildo and, to her intense delight, fucked himself until he was breathless and sweating, more with the desire to orgasm than with his exertion. The further She led, the more willing he was to follow, until the natural course of things left him with no answer except an emphatic “Yes!” when She asked if he would like to meet. In that meeting he found that neither Her charm nor Her beauty was limited to a digital environment. He could not help but be entranced by Her, by the way She spoke and moved. When he managed to succeed at some task, Her soft hands stroked his face and hair and she whispered “Good boy, sweet darling” into his ear and he was filled with joy he could barely contain. When he failed, She still smiled, and She still petted him even as She found some new, blissful torture for him to endure. And when it was through, She whispered into his ear how She knew he would do better next time, he simply needed a little more time, and training.

One yes often leads to another, and it followed that he came to be with Her, to be trained by Her, to become part of what he later discovered to be a complex society of her peers and their toys and entertainments or, as She often referred to them, works of art. Weeks had trailed into months, grueling and delightful, as She trained him to be what She needed and wanted him to be. It was only near the end of this period that he discovered that She had an ultimate goal beyond her own pleasure in mind. Occasionally She would comment that soon he would be able to contend with the other “pieces in the Gallery”. It seemed only those who had reached the pinnacle of preparation were sent there, and the idea was tangled in anticipation and fear in Andrew’s head. The unknown of this Gallery, and what might occur there, was overwhelming, but also exciting, as it signaled that She would finally decide that he was complete, prized enough to move to be displayed to her credit.

The day finally came when Andrew was on his knees in front of one Her as she lay back in her chair, his hands clasped behind his back as he very carefully nibbled a strawberry from Her navel, teeth nipping at the fruit and just grazing the skin. She scrutinized Andrew’s pose of intent focus, eyes almost closed as he worked. His entire being seemed to be caught in this single task, without anticipation of the next moment or thought for what had come before. Her hand stroked through his hair and touched his shoulder, drawing a fresh moan from him as his mouth worked against her skin, unaware of the thoughts going through Her head.

That evening, freshly scrubbed until his skin was as pink and naked as a newborn babe’s, Andrew stood before Her. Her beauty seemed to strike him anew, Her lithe and deliciously curved body curled against one end of the chaise and draped in near transparent folds of cloth. It reminded Andrew strongly of a portrait of Madame Recamier, and She held that same sweet, coy expression in her eyes, but behind that an inexplicable power. He knelt before Her, eyes focused on Her elegantly lacquered toenails tipping beautifully arched feet. A touch on his chin made him raise his gaze to Her, and a shiver rippled through him as She spoke in that well remembered voice, silken and honeyed with the slightest burr of Southern gentility that made her vowels soft and fuzzy.

“Darling, you have come so far from the undisciplined, willful and desirous boy I met so many months ago. You’ve truly grown into a man and blossomed while I watched,” that sweet voice began.

Some note of surprise must have shown in his eyes, because She laughed, low and filled with delight, before continuing.

“Yes, you have grown and through your trials, you have discovered that submitting to the will of another doesn’t take less strength, but more, to retain your sense of self and free will. So, knowing what you do, Andrew, I want you to make one last decision for me. I want you to decide if you are ready to leave this life...or if you will consent to be in the Gallery. I warn you now that, once you’ve made the decision, there is no turning back. You either take control of your own fate once again, and leave with my blessing, or give yourself over fully.”

Now, swaying as he was in his bonds between the two sides of the metal frame erected in the center of the Gallery, Andrew remembered how he had kissed Her hands and ankles, begging to be allowed to continue. She had lifted his chin and kissed him, and quiet words of adoration followed, poured into his ear to fill his soul. He spent the night in Her bed, in a world of bliss as She used him to satisfy Her own needs, coming again and again as he worshipped Her with his mouth or as She rode his cock. Near morning she slept and he was left hard and aching, his balls throbbing in time with his pulse as he lay on his back on the bed, with Her body curled close along his. He longed to simply turn into the warmth of Her, nuzzle into the rich, spicy scent of her body and simply slide, with a quick, wet movement into the heat of Her body and spend himself inside of Her. But he spent the night staring at the elaborate gilt medallion in the center of the canopy, tracing its contours with his eyes as his body slowly relaxed.

It was the next evening when She finally woke, and Andrew still lay beside Her, wakeful and apprehensive. She gave him no chance to second-guess the decision he made the evening before, and simply slipped a hand around his cock, which had only become fully soft in the last hour. Lust flamed inside of him at the gentlest touch of Her small hand, and it wasn’t long before he was bucking against the bed and clutching at the bedclothes, entertaining Her with the silent begging of his body. It did not stop until he was trembling and drenched with sweat, growling behind clenched teeth as She rode the length of his cock and admonished him to hold on “just a moment longer”. Finally she shivered in orgasm, and he could feel the muscles contracting around him, futilely milking him as he struggled against the fluid that wanted to follow nature’s call out of his body, and into Hers. She calmed above him and then sat slowly back, the delectable curve of Her ass pressing down against his straining balls, stretching them away from his swollen cock. Even as the urge to come became easier to deal with, the pleasure intensified, and he found himself unable to withhold a long, supplicating moan that became an inarticulate plea. In moments, however, Her body had slipped from his and she left to dress with terse instructions to bathe and prepare himself.

Andrew pulled himself from the whirlwind of thoughts that crowded his mind, reliving the moments of the last several months that had brought him to this place, centermost in amongst a living work of art. He could still hear the quiet groans around him, but he noticed that the sounds were beginning to calm, overtaken by a sense of anticipation that almost seemed to hum through the air. Now, without the constant background sussuration, he could hear footsteps moving against elegantly tiled floors, growing louder as they approached him. The steps were light, a distinctive quick clicking of high heels that he suspected, and hoped, belonged to Her. Hands touched his cheeks and then slid to the back of his head, releasing the blindfold that had blocked his vision. For a moment the world swam in a blur of white light, and slowly images began to emerge and solidify. He was, indeed, stretched upright on a metal frame in the center of a bright room, decorated in the height of classic tastes. As his vision cleared, he saw that it was cream, not white, that dominated the palette. He could also see why, since four more “exhibits” were stationed to the sides of the large room, and their black bonds, arranged artfully against bare skin, stood out starkly against the lighter background. It really did resemble an art gallery, bright and open, with odd writhing works of art displayed against the walls. It was obvious that the party would begin soon, since there were elegantly draped tables bearing a succulent selection of food and wines, white-dressed waiters bustling back and forth to arrange them. Curiously, they didn’t so much as bother looking at the bound displays around them.

Andrew, himself, was center stage, and except for the leather encircling his wrists and ankles, he was clad only in the cockring She had fitted on him with loving fingers earlier that evening. She stood in front of him, the blindfold in Her hands, looking up at him from her diminutive height. It never ceased to surprise him that the one who held him in Her hands was so tiny and delicate. His eyes found Hers and Her smile greeted him, and even in his apprehension of the evening to come he felt himself suffused with joy at being Hers. Those small, soft hands stroked his bare thigh and stomach, and he swayed again, but this time as he pushed his hips forward towards Her. As she spoke, her voice was like a balm to him.

“Shh, darling. They’ll be arriving soon and you’re to be on your absolute best behavior. Everything you do tonight reflects upon me, and I’m positive that you wouldn’t want this evening to go poorly for that reason alone. Now...I know that this should all go without saying, knowing how I’ve taught you, but I’m going to give you a few instructions in any case. Tonight, no matter how you are touched, no matter by whom or in what circumstance, no matter how you are tempted, you are not to come without my express permission. If at any time you feel that someone has over stepped His or Her bounds in touching you, all you need do is call to me. I don’t foresee that happening, but bear it in mind in any case.”

As She continued to speak, Her hands slipped along his abdomen, down the inside of each inner thigh and stroked his buttocks. The touches enflamed him, causing his cock to grow harder and harder against the strap confining it, until he could feel the leather outline pressed firmly against his skin and his balls full and stretched in their prison. She moved around behind him, stroking Her fingers between his buttocks, lightly grazing the soft skin just behind his balls and teasing across his anus. He gasped and flinched, surprised at the touch and by the simultaneous feeling of Her lips against his ear.

“It will be to your advantage if you perform well this evening, darling. You never can tell when your wildest and most divine dreams might be on the verge of coming true.” Her voice murmured against his ear, teeth nipping gently at the skin before she pulled away to greet the first of the guests just now entering through the outer doors. She left him hanging there, erect and straining against his bonds, now more desperate than ever to feel some sensation. As She left, She drew the doors closed behind Her, smiling and dipping one heavy-lashed eye in a slow wink at him.

He listened to the gathering start to come together in the outer chamber, shivering at the growing din of voices and elegantly shod feet against the parquet floor. His cock twitched, the sense of anticipation doing nothing to soften his torment. In an attempt to distract himself, he looked at the other displayed bodies, wondering who in Her circle of peers they belonged to. Only one other man was present, and Andrew couldn’t help but admire him as a physical specimen. Andrew himself, in his own consideration, was nothing special. Average build, average looks and an average cock, She had told him that his true beauty lay in his eyes. Not in their physical beauty, but in the desire that lay behind them. The man to Andrew’s left, however, was someone’s idea of a perfect slave Adonis, right down to the long hair. He was tied, as were the others, flat against the wall, with black leather artistically criss-crossing against his so-perfect body. His cock was large, jutting straight out from his body, and Andrew could already see the glisten of precome against the head.

The other willing captives were women. The two directly in front of Andrew, to the left and right, were a matched set of blondes with over-pert, full breasts that only implants can give. So matched, in fact, that Andrew wondered if they were twins and was certain that they belonged to the same person. The fourth, though, to Andrew’s far right, held his attention. A redhead, with hair curling nearly to her buttocks, her body had a soft, rounded look and pale skin with a soft rose undertone that said she would burn easily. Her breasts, full and lovely, were heavy enough to have never have seen a surgeon’s knife and were tipped with large, pink nipples. Just looking at her made Andrew’s cock stiffen a bit more, but when she turned gorgeous blue eyes towards him and her lips parted to draw in a long breath, he could actually feel his balls try to draw up against his body.

He was pulled from his dazed exploration of the other slaves, though, when her head the click of the latch from the outer chamber door. A moment’s pause as all of them directed their attention towards the doors, and then they suddenly swung open to allow the room to fill with elegantly clothed people. Andrew could feel a buffet of air from the other room press against him, warm from so many bodies and redolent with expensive cologne and perfume. He was immediately aware of many pairs of eyes on him, but no one approached yet, instead he became the centerpiece in what, otherwise, could have been any other society gathering. Satin and silk moved past him, covering all sorts of forms, shining and dazzling in the bright light and making a whirl of color before his eyes. He could feel the blood thumping through his body, and most especially in his cock which had begun to soften somewhat due to his distraction, leapt to renewed erection when the guests entered.

Somewhere in the throng he could hear Her laughing, and his eyes began to search Her out, looking for the flash of Her bright hair in the crowd. Finally he spied Her, choking back a gasp that She was so near. In fact, She was moving in his direction, drawing along a little crowd of people she was speaking to.

“As you know, this is his first time in the Gallery. He hasn’t as much experience as some of the others, but I do feel he is ready.” Andrew watched as one of the men with her chuckled softly, which seemed to cause the frown that appeared on Her face. “Of course, I could always be proven wrong, Gerald, but I don’t think I will be. I wouldn’t have brought him for tonight if I thought that.”

Andrew shivered as he realized the room had gone quiet at Her words, and all eyes turned to him. He felt as if he were in the eye of a hurricane, in the calm just before all hell breaks loose.

“Well, in that case, I suppose we can begin the entertainment, can’t we?” the one she had addressed as Gerald spoke up. She nodded and almost instantly Andrew felt a hand against his buttocks, trailing along his thigh. Another grazed across his stomach, and another his neck. Andrew had no way of knowing who the hands belonged to as he felt himself pulled into the press of people around him.

For a moment chaos reigned, as it seemed like millions of hands touched his body, caressing every inch of him...all except for his straining cock. It was as if there was an unspoken agreement not to touch him there, and yet this was the one place he ached to be touched. He knew he had promised Her that he would not come, but if someone would only touch him and stroke him, it would be a form of relief. Andrew groaned in spite of himself, twisting against his bonds as he tried to press his cock into any of the hands that stroked his thighs or abdomen, and he was greeted with delighted laughter from all sides. The hands withdrew, again as if this were something well-rehearsed, and left him panting with need. He glanced at Her, to see if she was upset with his overt reaction, but She only looked amused and turned to the man next to her to converse quietly.

After that initial swarming, the tone of the evening changed. Rather than being ignored as a piece of artwork as the party progressed, Andrew became the entertainment in truth. Every so often a guest would stop and toy with him, sometimes men and sometimes women, but always they would leave him gasping and aching. One woman drew a chair up in front of him and sat down to eat from a plate of canapés she had selected. As she nibbled on toast points and caviar, her free hand began to stroke and fondle Andrew’s bound balls, grazing the taut, shiny skin with her fingernails. She even plucked gently at the strap separating them, causing it to snap very lightly against his skin and make him gasp, again and again. When he was well and truly writhing, she began to stroke his cock, agonizingly slow pumps up and down his aching member, all the while sipping her wine and speaking to other guests as if she were doing nothing amiss. It wasn’t long before Andrew was pressing himself backwards against his bonds in a futile attempt to escape her relentless hand, afraid that if she continued much longer that there was no way he would be able to keep his promise to Her. Just as he felt his resolve beginning to slip, the hand pulled back and the woman moved on to another conversation and another glass of wine, leaving his cock to twitch with his pulse as he tried to regain his composure.