A door appeared where there didn’t seem to be one. A trompe l’oeil of a bookcase hid the opening well. He slid a key into the space between two books, and a slender opening appeared. She noted as she moved towards the doorway, that several of the shelves in the painting contained faux statuary of copulating nudes. They appeared as bookends, holding up old-world tomes. Even here the works contained the sensual; she noted the Kama Sutra as one of the “books” laying open on a “shelf” as he held the door open for her to pass through under his arm.
She felt the heat of him as she ducked underneath, brushing his hip with hers. She was inundated with the sharp tang of man; the woodsy scent of his cologne, the musk of armpit, the bite of coffee on his exhaled breath. He was living, breathing art, and she was going alone into the lion’s den with it. With him.
Overwhelmed by her own lusty thoughts, she didn’t at first notice the room. His breath was warm on her neck as he leaned close, nearly whispering.
“Not many enter into my private domain, despite what you may have heard, Helena. Welcome to my private collection.”
His hand at her lower back guided her forward, into a room filled with cocks. She blinked, yet when she opened her eyes again, she still saw phallus’s of all shapes and sizes.
“This is a room where one can experience the art, firsthand.” He led her to a marble statue of a man sitting. “This particular piece functions well as a spanking bench. I believe you are familiar with that piece of equipment, my dear?”
She flushed, looking up at him in shock.
He smiled down at her knowingly.
“Word gets around in our circle, doesn’t it?”
Her blush deepened. She’d thought she’d been very discreet. Obviously not.
“Your blush is lovely.” A single finger caressed her cheek. She shivered, a combination of lust and embarrassment. The finger slid down her throat, a rush of goosebumps following his touch as he traversed her flesh. It hovered for a moment at her cleavage, poised at the top of the provocative V of her breasts.
“Not yet, I think,” he murmured, and she worked hard to stamp a neutral expression on her face. He laughed, chucking her under the chin.
“She is disappointed. Worry not, little one. Soon you’ll be begging for my touch.”
The cockiness of him annoyed, even as it stabbed lust between her legs.
“Now, don’t protest what we both know will make you even more embarrassed later when you *are* begging.”
Mouth opened in a perfect O of shock that he would speak so frankly to one he had just met, and that she was letting him – she, a poised and sophisticated woman herself? Uncertain which of them she was more irritated at, she closed her mouth with a snap and moved away from the man. She was not going to let him Svengali him into seducing her.
Her pussy said otherwise.
“It makes you want to reach out and caress, doesn’t it? The flare of the head is perfect, even the slit in the tip is there. See the veining? It’s okay for you to touch…it’s marble and cold and begs for the touch of a warm woman.”
His voice had dropped in timbre again, the pitch vibrating her throbbing clit. She felt the heat of him standing beside her, and she wasn’t shocked at all when his hand took hers, lifting it to the large phallus in front of her.
“Does it make you wonder what it would feel like inside of your cunt? The shocking cold of the stone, the smooth thickness of it impaling you? Do you want to feel it stretching your hot wet hole, my dear?”
Her hand closed around the stone cock, her eyes closing at his lascivious words. Fingers clenched as she ran her hand down, then up again at his silent urging.
“It craves a hot, wanton pussy.”
“Please…” she murmured, shuddering as lust swelled in her. He removed his hands from hers, leading her to another statue.
“This is one of the more…unique statues in my collection. Wait a moment.” He moved away, fiddling with something behind the statue. Returning to her side, he once more took her hand, guiding it to the rampantly engorged penis. It was cold, a bronze, with lots of detail. His cock curved slightly, and she knew it would hit her g-spot if she climbed up and mounted it. He reclined, arms behind his head, a half-smile on his face. It was a familiar face.
She turned a bit, looking up at him.
“Bravo. It seems that earlier staring did you well. Not everyone recognizes me so readily.”
She pulled her hand back-the bronze shaft under her fingers suddenly felt…warm.
“You feel it, don’t you? The heat. Are you wearing panties, I wonder, under that flirty skirt?”
She never wore panties, unless she wore jeans. Biting her lip, she stared up at him.
“Get up there. I dare you. Let my cock into your pussy. You want it. And I want to see it. See my cock slide between your thighs, watch them part your lips, imagine the feeling as my big fat dick slides deep into your belly.”
Her breath came in short, hard pants now, so turned on by the erotic picture his words painted for her. Turning her to face him, his fingers found her nipples, sharply erect, and pinched them. She rose to tiptoe as he lifted her by them, as he leaned down and thrust his tongue into her mouth. He fucked her lips as he held her upright by her nipples, as she moaned and held his shoulders for balance.
“Go…” he murmured into her mouth, his fingers tugging her to the base of the statue. His quick fingers tugged her skirt down, leaving it laying on the floor. Lust drove her up, drove her to straddle the bronze lap. The statue was just that much bigger than the man, she realized, as her legs stretched wide. There was a click as he held a remote up, pointing at the far wall.
“Watch.” His voice was thick with lust.
A screen lowered. All that showed was white with a faint greek key pattern. Where had she seen that pattern before?
“Do it.” The tone was implacable. She rose up, poised. Something pink and wet filled the screen. It hit her at once-there was a cam in the dick below her. She looked up at the ceiling, at the Greek key embossed there, confirming her guess. Another click and whirr and a screen-in-screen appeared. This showed her ass and pussy, poised just above the giant bronze cock. There must be a second cam, maybe in the toes of the statue? She wondered if there were more.
He seemed to understand her worry.
“There is no face cam. We will protect your anonymity, though some may recognize your blouse. You may remove it if you wish. You have just 5 seconds before this goes live.”
As she tore off her blouse, she knew that there were screens throughout the museum, that all attendees would watch as she lowered her pussy to the phallus. She could have leapt away. She could have left the museum. Yet, as she watched the screen, a pearly drop of juice popped out from between her plumply swollen cunt lips. It hung there a moment, caught in full view of the cam, then fell as if in slow motion, until it landed, dripping down the side of the shaft between her thighs. Slowly, slowly, she followed that drop, watching avidly as her pussy began to swallow the warm, rigid bronze.