Jean The Birth Of Venus Ch 14

Post 13: A Gala to Celebrate a Successful Exhibition

This story took place in 1976.

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Chapter 30

My last three weeks of the Art Exhibition went by in a fog of public orgasms. Each day blended into the next. The only change had been to the controller for my dildo. I had managed to convince Maggie and The Electrician to increase the stimulation as well as the size of the dildo. His changes to the black box shortened the time before the big black dildo thrusting into my vagina and ass reached its maximum speed and power. With the new settings, the device was close to its maximum level by the end of each session. The electrical stimulation between my G-spot and the gold band around my clit similarly increased in intensity.

Previously, I had orgasmed about once per session for a total of between 8 and 12 public orgasms a day. With the increased stimulation, I was up to over two orgasms per session for a daily total of 18 to 24 or more. A light flashed on top of the black box every time the electronic sensors detected an orgasm. Since my display booth was fitted with microphones, the Exhibition visitors were treated to every moan and shriek I uttered as the dildo they controlled with their tokens drove me from one mind-numbing orgasm to another. Between the flashing orgasm light, my wanton screams and my nearly naked gyrating body, the performance drove the crowd wild.

I didn't have the time or energy to be worried about what happened when the Exhibition finally ended. In my mind, I was going to spend the rest of my life in orgasmic bliss riding my big black plastic fantastic lover.

After a week of increased stimulation, I found myself once again wanting more. Since I'd watched The Engineer when he made the modifications to the electronic controller that I had requested, I figured I could change the settings by myself and save myself from the annoyance of having my request denied.

Fortunately, my support team was exhausted and getting sloppy in their attention to my needs. One day, no one had remembered to bring the lubricant, and every one of them trooped back to my dressing room leaving me alone in my display booth. I quickly popped off the cover on the controller and increased the setting two clicks. I would have turned the knob further, but it was as far as it would go. I barely closed the box before they returned. I was quickly lubricated and mounted on the dildo. As usual my feet were fastened down to prevent me from falling off. I had no idea what to expect, but I hoped I would soon be experiencing something close to the ecstasy I enjoyed the time my team was prevented from returning from lunch by an accident on the access road. That day the football players counted out 94 orgasms in a row as indicated by the flashing light.

I wasn't disappointed. The stimulation quickly ramped up, and about the midpoint in my session, it reached its maximum setting. I was in heaven. For the next twenty-five minutes, I enjoyed nearly continuous orgasms. Towards the end of the session, I felt the gold band around my clit get warm. Some nerd had counted the flashes and shouted out nineteen, just after my first session of the day ended. I knew it was going to be a long glorious day.

My team had to peel me off the mount after my first session. Chalk up their response to exhaustion after a long summer; they thought my catatonic state was the result of my poor nights sleep. They gave me water and a bottle of Ensure before returning me to my booth for another session riding the powerful dildo. By lunchtime, I was in a trance. When they dismounted me at the end of the day, I was essentially catatonic. I don't remember being transported back to my jail cell, but when I woke early the next morning my fingers had already found their way to my sex, and I rubbed out a couple of easy orgasms before we were roused for another day at the Exhibition.

I couldn't have made it through the last weeks of the Exhibition without my support team, gently guiding me through my daily routine. I got up early each morning and jogged up the hill to the Exhibition Hall while the sun rose over the mountains behind Santa Teresa and burned off the fog over the Pacific Ocean. I used the communal shower when I arrived at the facility, and as soon as I was dry, my team led me back to my dressing room. Once there, I automatically bent over and grabbed my ankles. Maggie quickly pressed the prescribed Seconal suppositorIes into my butt to help me hold my pose for one session after another with only short breaks. The doctor had backed off on my dosage and promised to wean me off the tranquilizer by the end of the Exhibition. Maggie had laughed with my team at the doctor's statement.

"There isn't enough Seconal in California to keep our lovely Venus still while she's riding her Master Cock Deluxe Dildo, especially since she had The Electrician increase its level of stimulation."

My team leader had no idea I had set the controller to its maximum. Still, it hardly seemed fair that the Exhibition officials were still insisting I remain motionless throughout my fifty-minute sessions. The crowds had increased substantially since they had fitted my support stand with a vibrating dildo controlled by tokens fed by the rowdy onlookers. Instead of being rewarded for attracting record crowds, I was docked community service hours if one of the Exhibition Committee caught me writhing on the thrusting dildo during one of my numerous orgasms. With my nearly constant orgasms, it was practically a guarantee I would be docked every time a Board member checked on my behavior.

Fortunately, they didn't come around to check during every session and my team leader, Maggie, would never penalize me for moving since she knew the audience loved watching me gyrate on the thrusting dildo while competing to insert the next token. So much for mimicking the serenity of Botticelli's masterpiece.

Once the tranquilizer suppository had been inserted, my support team went into a well-choreographed process of applying my makeup while I ate a breakfast consisting of a granola bar and a piece of fruit. I was eating close to 3600 calories a day but in small amounts between sessions. At lunch, and at the end of the day, I would have larger meals with the other Exhibition performers and their teams. After dinner, those of us performing community service were bused back to the jail where we collapsed into bed. I usually fell asleep during the short bus ride and had to be carried to my cell and tucked into bed.

It seems my handler, Maggie, and my aunt Cathy were worrying about what would happen after the Exhibition was over. My team leader discussed my insatiable sexual appetite with my aunt while I tried to ignore their chatter and focus on my next rapidly approaching orgasm instead. Maggie was concerned that once I was no longer being satisfied by the dildo, I would become promiscuous. In fact, she thought it would be impossible for me to go cold turkey and recommended that my aunt set up an environment where I could have sex with men Cathy knew were safe until I was back under control of my libido. My aunt replied that she was afraid I might get pregnant and volunteered to provide birth control pills since the Exhibition doctor was overworked.

Nine days before the end of the Exhibition, I got my period and had to take a few days off. That afternoon, my aunt gave Maggie a disk containing a month's supply of birth control pills she said she had purchased while on vacation in Germany. The package was all in German, and neither Maggie or I could read it. The top read Fruchtbarkeitsmedikament, and in parentheses below, was the word Clomifen. Cathy instructed Maggie to make sure I took a tablet each day so I would be protected once I was released from my community service requirement.

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Chapter 31

The Monday after the end of the Exhibition came as a shock. It was the first day we had had off since early in the summer when the Exhibition Committee decided to go to a seven-day schedule. We slept an extra five hours or at least some of us did. I tried not to wake the other girls as I masturbated to one orgasm after another. After each one, I promised I would quit, but each sweet orgasm left me wanting more.

Vicky, our friendly jailer, woke us at ten and fed us brunch in the common room of the jail. Around noon, she announced we would be taken one at a time to the courtroom where the judge would determine if we had met our community service requirement. My cellmate, Sonya, was the first person on the court schedule. We were surprised when Vicky attached shackles to the diminutive young woman and led her off in her orange jail suit. None of us had been restrained since the friendly jailer had become supervisor of the community service girls.

Vicky returned without Sonya and said I was next. I was shackled and led to the waiting room at the nearby courtroom. I was left alone to fidget. My body was sweating profusely as I nervously paced the room. I ached for my dildo. Maybe my aunt was right. Maybe I had become addicted to sex. I'd read about withdrawal symptoms in my psychology class. This sure felt like what the textbook described.

I was naked under my jumpsuit, and my shackled hands began rubbing the rough fabric across my clit without a second thought. I fell to my knees and rested my head against the wall as I rubbed out one pleasant orgasm after another. I lost track of time, but eventually, Vicky opened the door to the courtroom and gave me a strange look. While I waited for my turn, Vicky and a guard half carried Sonya out of the courtroom.

My cellmate looked like she was in shock as she stumbled to a chair in the small room. I didn't get a chance to talk to her before I was led before the judge. It seemed like it had been an eternity since I had last seen Chris Okazaki, the Santa Teresa Municipal Judge even though it had only been two months.

I joined my lawyer at the defense table. Sebastián had my folder open in front of him. Once again, he wasn't smiling. I looked around for my aunt and uncle, but they were nowhere to be seen. I recognized the accountant from the Exhibition sitting next to the DA with a large binder in front of him.

The judge turned to the DA and said, "Mr. Tailor, Who's next?"

Daniel said, "We are considering case number 76-314, the city of Santa Teresa versus Miss Jean Marie Williams. She accepted a plea deal for charges of felony aggravated assault of a police officer, resisting arrest, aggravated driving under the influence of alcohol, driving under the influence of marijuana, driving with excessive speed, failure to stop at a stop sign, possession of more than an ounce of a Schedule 1 controlled substance with the intent to sell, public indecency, fornicating in public, prostitution, and corrupting the morals of a minor."

The judge said, "What were the terms of the plea deal?"

"Jean was required to complete 400 hours of quality service at the Exhibition."

"Did she complete her hours?"

The DA turned to the Exhibition administrator who flipped through the pages of the binder. He shook his head and whispered to the DA.

The DA said, "No your honor. She is short 23 hours."

I shouted a protest. "That's a lie. I'm way over 400."

The judge pounded his gavel. "Mr. Ramirez, please control your client."

"I'm sorry your honor. My client would like to inspect the records of her community service hours."

The judge sighed. "I'll allow it if she doesn't waste the court's time."

They allowed me to inspect the record. Each day's entry had my initials next to the number of hours I'd earned. All the entries looked clean with no changes. The timekeeper had a calculator on the table. He let me enter each day's entry in the calculator. I hit the total key at the end and stared at the number 377. I knew I hadn't missed any of the entries. My total was the same as the accountant's figure. I had gotten careless the last few weeks of the Exhibition when I had given myself over to the orgasmic pleasure of the Master Cock Deluxe. I'd also missed over a week after Ellen attacked me with the cattle prod.

Judge Okazaki said, "So, the defense stipulates to the 23-hour shortage?"

I had tears in my eyes as I nodded.

My attorney said, "Yes, your honor."

The judge said, "Will the clerk read out the penalty for failure to meet the required number of community service hours."

The clerk read from the record. "If the defendant is short any hours by the end of the Exhibition, they will spend a month in the Santa Teresa County Jail for every hour they are short of the required 400. If they are short more than 20 hours, the plea deal will be considered null and void. In that case, Jean Marie Williams will spend the next 18 years in a maximum-security prison. She will be eligible for parole in 12 years. Upon release, she must register as a felony sex offender."

The judge said, "The defendant was short 23 hours. Correct?"

The DA said, "Yes, your honor."

The judge said, "Then I have no choice except to sentence the defendant to 18 years in a maximum-security prison."

I began sobbing when I realized the judge had just destroyed my life. I would be 44, and most of my life would be over if I even survived prison. When he reiterated the 18-year sentence, I let out a wail. It was so unfair. My performance at the Exhibition had helped draw record crowds.

The judge pounded his gavel while my attorney put his arm around my shoulders.

Finally, order was restored, and the prosecutor said, "Your honor, May I approach the bench?"

The judge sighed again and said, "Please make it quick."

My attorney joined the DA, and they whispered for a minute.

They returned to their seats, and the judge said, "This is highly unusual, but it seems the Exhibition still needs you, Miss Williams. If you are willing to perform for the Exhibition Gala held for the patrons and volunteers, they will credit you with the missing 23 hours of community service. I don't know how the math works, but that seems pretty good for an evening's work. What do you say, Miss Williams?"

I eagerly gave my consent, and my attorney said, "My client accepts."

I had to sign a contract accepting the terms. The Gala was scheduled for the coming Wednesday. I had hoped to return home to recuperate for a week before I left to attend the Fall semester at law school. Now, it looked like I might only have three or four days with my Mom.

They returned me to the jail. I was surprised to learn that Sonya had agreed to a similar deal. One by one, the other actresses returned to the jail with the same agreement. Our jailor informed us the Gala was held at the end of every Exhibition to reward the volunteers and the sponsors. We would pose in our booths wearing our costumes during the Gala. Basically, the event was a chance for the volunteers and Exhibition benefactors to enjoy the Exhibition without all the crowds. Of course, an elaborate banquet would be served, and an open bar would be available the whole evening. None of us was so naïve to believe that the court proceedings weren't another fraudulent conspiracy by the city fathers.

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Chapter 32

Vicky let us sleep late again on Tuesday. Of course, I spent the extra hours in bed masturbating. Mid-morning she told us to dress for a run. We ran down Main Street to the delight of both the tourists and the natives. There were a lot more people on the street than we normally encountered when we ran closer to dawn. The sun was also higher in the sky and a lot warmer. The palm trees lining the street provided little shade.

We followed our normal route up the steep hill to the Exhibition Hall. Vicky told us to keep running until we reached the University of California at Santa Teresa's practice fields at the top of the hill. The football players were on the field as we ran around the track in our spanky pants and sweat-soaked tee shirts. We were such a distraction the coaches made the players run laps with us until we headed back down the hill. We were smiling and laughing as we waved goodbye to the team for what I thought was the last time. We stopped for a welcome shower and a leisurely lunch at the Exhibition Hall.

They had arranged some picnic tables under the shade of a small grove of California Live Oak trees behind the Exhibition building. My cellmate, Sonya Ramirez, the DA's daughter, who plays 'The Naked Maji' was sitting on my right. Lanuola Tatupu, the Chief of Police's daughter, who plays a Tahitian girl in Paul Gauguin's 'Nevermore' was on my left staring at the ocean. She was a surfer, and I couldn't count the number of times she complained about missing the waves.

Amani Okazaki, the Judge's daughter, who plays 'The Dream of the Fishermen's Wife' was sitting across from me. I couldn't see Amani's exhibit from mine, but every day I had heard her cries and moans as a mechanical octopus thrust one thick pulsating tentacle into her pussy and a second into her ass. The cute Japanese girl was the only actress besides me who had a dildo assaulting her pussy and ass. All the other girls only had to endure the vibrations of an egg in their vaginas.

Hanna Schmidt, the mayor's daughter, who's wide open pussy was on display in 'The Origin of the World' was sitting on Amani's right.

Mary McDonald, the Art Professor's daughter, was sitting on Amani's left looking exhausted as always. She had a unique role in the Exhibition since she wasn't acting out any classic work of art but instead was engaged in a piece of erotic performance art. She spent her days tied to a stake on a rotating island in the middle of the hall at the complete mercy of a black porn star who couldn't keep his hands and lips off the demure young woman. Several times a day everyone in the Exhibition Hall turned to face her island as she screamed first in pain and then in pleasure as the porn star's enormous black cock penetrated her tight pussy.

My heart went out to Mary when I learned she had been a virgin saving herself for a good Christian marriage. She had just turned eighteen when the Santa Teresa city fathers had ensnared her in a conspiracy with her mother stealing charity funds from the Exhibition.

Everyone knew Mary had been selected for the role because her mother, who was a professor of art at the university, had vehemently objected to the perversion of the historic mission of the Exhibition to bring classical art to the masses while raising money for the hospital. Professor Trish McDonald had called my uncle a pornographer and a pimp before resigning from the committee. The next day she and her daughter were arrested. Mary accepted a plea bargain involving community service at the Exhibition. Her mother remained in jail awaiting trial, and that fact probably kept Mary from any serious protests. I suspect if Mary's mother had younger, she would also have been working the Exhibition possibly as her daughter's alternate.

To my uncle's credit, he had quadrupled attendance at the Exhibition by focusing on 'Erotica in Art Through the Ages.' Michael Brown's justification was that while raising a huge amount of money for the hospital, he was also relating classical art to the media of the modern world.

Of course, especially attractive volunteer actresses were required for erotic works of art. All the town's big shots had participated in the scheme to recruit the necessary actresses. I found it strange that they had recruited their own daughters as well as a dozen girls from the local University.

I was washing down the last of my scrumptious turkey and avocado sub with a cold Henry Weinhard's pale lager when Sonya talked about what she planned to do once she was released by the court.

"As soon as I get out of the jail, I'm going to jump the first man I see and fuck him raw. I've had that damn egg vibrating in my pussy for almost two damn months, and I want a real, warm and very hard cock stuffing my pussy."