0 comments/ 13098 views/ 0 favorites Gallery By: Lenny I had been running around like crazy, there being quite a number of items still to be finished. That's the way it always is just before the opening of a new show. One would think I'd be used to it by now but, alas, I am still trying to handle all the minutiae instead of letting staff do their jobs. They tolerate my constant questions, suggestions, and 'helping hands' as long as possible then advise me (in a infuriatingly gentle and persuasive manner) that my attention is needed elsewhere. These are good people and have been with the gallery and me for years. I always pretend to take their advice and retreat to the inner office. That is where it finally hit me: amidst the promo materials, the print ads, press releases, and posters, this event was the culmination of my life's work! Every single thing in my life had led to this one event, this one moment. From the doodles of a child to the watercolours; from the first snapshots (taken with a toy camera 'hidden' within a "Man From U.N.C.L.E." briefcase) to the stark slides depicting my life; from the piano lessons taught by the church's choir teacher to the recordings of my pieces available at the local retail store. This is what it was all about. A gentle tap at the door releases me from my reverie. "Jan?" Carol spoke quietly but with the hint of a smile, "It's time for the media entry. Would you like to be there to meet them or have us come and get you after they're settled?" I had made it clear that I intended not to be treated as some kind of stuffy royalty, so, as I opened the door, I was gathering my wind for an appropriate demonstrative response when I noticed the rest of the staff grouped in the tiny hallway and smiling. Somebody behind me barely whispered, "The dream of a lifetime!" Turning to face the disrespectful cur, I heard (again from behind), "All together, finally!" I almost placed the voice this time, which is damned hard for an old deaf man to do, and didn't turn to respond but flinched, nonetheless. Their tease's timing disturbed, the next two lines came atop each other: "All your music in the air!" and, "And all for free!" I clearly heard from Carol and Tyrone. Still attempting to respond to their crassness, I fumbled for words until I spied the grins on everyone's faces. Their little tease then became obvious and I felt my ever-ready temper melted at the hands of masters. Yes, it was my show, in my gallery but I had earned the right to do it and I was sure I'd be taken seriously and reviewed solely on the merits of my work (indeed, of my life). If the criticism was coming, I'd better be thick-skinned enough to deal with it. These people, my friends and coworkers, shared my dream and understood the risks as much as I did. The smile I've been known to hide as I slip deeper into the consummate definition of curmudgeon succeeded in creeping onto my face and we all simply stood there, proud of our collective work, proud of each other. I wanted to speak to their teasing a 67 year old man, but "thank you," were the words that passed my lips and all that was required for us to feel the strength of our group before plunging into 'The Event'. Walking back to the main floor of the gallery I took stock of how we looked, noting all dressed just as we chose: Carol wore the same basic black evening gown she's preferred for openings for years. She goes to 5 or 6 a year but talk of her eccentricity is muted by her exalted status as a patron of the local arts. Her Land Park mansion is filled with the best (and most expensive) pieces of Sacramento's local artisans, a lot of it from my peers, but also some of my rare forays into sculpture. Tyrone is so tacky I'm certain he'll wear a 'HELLO! I'M TYRONE!' sticker on an old plaid shirt in his coffin. As if to illustrate my point, he was wearing a red and black checkered shirt with a neon blue tie. ("Nobody will ever forget my name!" Ty proudly stated to our collective groans.) He is very useful, though; if he likes something I did, my work is either dead right or dead wrong. James says more with no words than anyone I've ever had the pleasure to know. Though he's something over 70, there is always a beautiful woman at his arm but I've never heard him say a word to her. His perfectly tailored formal tuxedo looked splendid, but, if not for the gleam in his eyes, I'd wonder if he had simply fallen asleep standing. Marylyn dresses and acts like one of her age: barely out of college, she brings the 21th century firmly into our gallery with youthful exuberance and enough tattoos and pierced body parts to scare many a man my age. And, finally, York the cat, completes our group with the precise touch of class by using what little energy and motivation he still possesses to launch his 18 pounds into my arms and offer a quick lick on my nose prior to starting his freight-train purring. I can usually carry him for about the same amount of time the doctor said I should be 'allowed' to stand. Well, my arms get tired when they want to and I'll put York down when I damn well please. We just might do that in 30 minutes or it just might be longer! But no doctor is going to dictate my preferences, no sir! The press has been respectful of me for many years but the broadcast reviews have been spotty at best and downright mean at times. I have never publically spoke of them or treated their authors with any less than equal courtesy. I figured that art is in the eye of the beholder but I do worry about sales; an old man needs to make a living, too. So, I dread to think of poor reviews slowing sales and hope this show will turn around some of my harshest critics. The pre-show interviews were pleasantly upbeat and I was eager to let the public inside. A simple glance to James and the doors were opened to a crowd of nearly 100 people. As openings go in the storefront galleries of downtown Sacramento, this was wonderful! True, there were a lot of personal friends of mine and the staffs', but there were a lot of people I'd never seen before. Some had copies of older albums, compact disks, and cassettes but most just seemed to be interested in the opening. The handshakes were all brief (because of the condition of my hands), if at all (thanks to York still in my arms) but good-natured happiness was apparent everywhere. The slides were all rotating randomly, displaying their images of my photography, while the 30 minutes of "Freak" was looped and playing in the background. Marylyn was being so overwhelmed with buyer's orders that Carol had to find Tyrone for assistance! My usual bubble of privacy, my 'no entry zone', was violated frequently but carefully restored by gentle, yet firm staff until York called out from my arms. Immediately, a nondescript woman of about 50 years approached us. James couldn't get between us before her intense eyes and even more intense smile froze me solidly before her. York almost went ballistic, turning his face to me as if to plead to be released. Looking up from the cat to the woman, I seemed to see a different person than before. Where I once saw 'nondescript', now I saw charm. I smiled as I spoke: "This old boy is always friendly, but he sure seems to be taken by you, and his taste is impeccable." Her smile quieted the polite chuckles of those standing nearby and I was almost holding my breath when she replied, "Yes, his taste is fine, to be with a gentleman such as yourself." She offered a perfect curtsy and the small crowd around us broke into easy applause. I started to bow, thought the better of it (Not being able to straighten up would be rather embarrassing right now...), then tried to reach for her hand, intending to give it a small kiss. York was not in the mood to be patient any longer. He wriggled free of my arms, thudded to the floor on all fours, and sat quietly at the woman's feet. She looked up from the cat to me and raised an eyebrow, as if questioning my motives for sending a cat to do my flirting for me! "It would appear that he has taken an interest in me," she offered to me. "And, what, pray tell, do you propose to say for yourself?" spoken to the cat, as she crossed her arms. "Meow." It was the clearest thing to an answer I've ever seen a cat give to a spoken question and York just sat there waiting, as if for an answer. "Oh! I do most certainly agree! And, what of Jan's usage of over-exposed images (the Light) in contrast to such dark subject matter?" Seeing her still speaking to the cat, some of the people around us began to politely wander away from what may be a mildly disturbed woman in an art gallery. I may have, too, except I had become far too intrigued by the strange behaviour of an animal I'd known for over 9 years. "Meow." Again, the almost human reply. I fancied it meant 'Cool' as I'd always assumed York enjoyed my work, beginning to wonder about my own mental stability. "Perhaps we should discuss this further with the artist?" she said, leaning forward slightly and opening her arms, as if in greeting. And, to my astonishment, York launched, jumping into her arms! The remaining bystanders gasp, then laughed as my cat kissed this lady on the nose which I now wanted to kiss. "Let's take a little walk around, Jan, and see if we are all in agreement." I must have looked stricken because Carol whispered in my ear, "Just don't leave us to the 'sharks' (our name for the media) all night!" and nudged me towards the stranger. We approached my first painting, actually the first watercolour I'd ever completed. As she described it and supplied her analysis, we chatted easily until I realized she understood all about it. Likewise the sculpture, the photography and the music. In fact, she knew everything there was to know about my work. But, the strangest part was that her analysis was correct. Very few people understand what I mean artistically but she knew. This went on for far too long for my liking. I love a good mystery as much as the next guy, but I'd had enough. "Madam, I do not generally ask such questions but this is all too strange for me to ignore. If you would be so kind as to explain how...?" Laughter as easy as a summer wind in a park lit her face beautifully and I relaxed in spite of myself. We sat on one of the few unoccupied settees; York repositioned and lay in her lap. "I've a couple more surprises for you, yet. York, which one should we start with?" And I'll be damned if it didn't appear as though York raised his head and 'mew' a cat-whispered response. "All right, we will start with you, York! Jan, I had a stroke almost 10 years ago. It just hit me and I was fortunate that the people around at the time recognized the symptoms and rushed me to the hospital. I was there for almost a month as the doctors tried to get me responsive to medications. Then, I was sent to a long-term care facility (a damned 'old folks home', if you ask me!) for about 5 years. It took a long time for me to get my speech back. All through the worst years anyone could imagine, I had a roommate named Cora and she talked to me, talked at me, and played your music. I came to love the soundtrack to "Forest Song" and as I would struggle to regain my speech I often tried to get her to play it again and again! It was never played enough for me and I never stopped trying to get her attention. I finally awoke one morning and she was already playing it! I heard the last 2 or 3 minutes and it ended! I turned my head as much as I could and actually said my first intelligable words in years, "Play that again right now or I'll beat you senseless!" She screamed, the nurses came, and everyone was crying and carrying on. As you can see, I'm pretty much fine, now, but I left that room alone. I think God took Cora the next day because her work was finally complete. "I went home and finally started to remember the life I had left behind. Jan, 'York' is such an unusual name. How did you come to name him that?" "I didn't name him. That was the name.... Oh, my God! That was the name on his collar! The collar you gave him, what, 10 years ago, before your stroke?" It was all starting to ring true and I began to feel as though my world were collapsing atop me. I loved York as much as I've ever loved anyone, so much so that he was an equal partner in this gallery. She obviously saw my distress and shook her head. "There is no reason to worry; we just met so we can't have a custody battle over the baby before the relationship even starts! York, are you willing to take a little walk?" Once again, as if he were listening, York responded. This time it nearly broke my heart. I started to make my apologies to someone when James headed me off. With a slight nod, he turned, nodded to Carol (who gave a big 'thumbs up' over both Marylyn and Tyrone taking orders), and turned back to grace me with a rare word: "'night." I love that man! The cat, the woman and I stepped into the night and walked slowly through the streets. York realized where he was almost a block away from her Victorian apartment, his first home. The 'new-found conversationalist' spoke, meowing loudly, ran at my feet and jumped into my arms. I was moved to tears and gratefully accepted his kisses. We stopped at the old brick walkway leading to her place,under a huge elm. "Come on in, have something cool to drink, and we'll decide where you will spend the night," she said. "I don't even know your name! And besides, I am still a gentleman!" I was astonished! "Don't get your pants in a bunch, buster. I was talking to the cat," she practically purred. And in my arrogance I had been so sure she was talking to me! She stopped my stammered apologies with a wave of her hand and a good natured chuckle. "At least let me fix a drink you'd like before you share my bed!" York 'answered' for both of us: his 'meow' left no room for discussion and he led us to the door. Gallery Fuck (Thanks to Slavemaster for this idea and the usual suspects for reading it for me.) * As Pat sat behind her desk, she looked around the gallery where she worked and admired the quiet yet again. She had been working at the gallery attached to the mall for about seven months at the urging of her friend. It wasn't that Pat was an extreme art freak or an artist herself, but she was gifted with the ability to sell and it was exactly what the manager wanted. On this day, the manager left right after lunch for the day and Pat was alone. Although Pat was in a room with all windows, she still had her small vibrator in her palm and was carefully buzzing herself under her desk. One of the perks of the job was definitely the dress code which required her to wear knee length skirts. It made it easier for Pat to wear her favorite type of underwear. She loved the feeling of her shaven pussy underneath her skirt unhampered by any undergarments. Her chest was just the right size to get away with not wearing a bra also. She covered the sheerness of her blouse with a teal blue sweater partially out of necessity since the gallery was unusually cold that day. Slowly, she ran the battery powered teaser up and down her clit while scanning outside to ensure she wasn't caught. A naughty part of her toyed with the idea of perhaps bringing a butt plug the next chance she worked even though she had no clue how to carry it in her tiny purse. As she teased, she thought about how much she would attack her hubby that night after dinner was done and the kids were sleeping. The thought of his tongue acting like her vibrator was at that moment almost brought her over. She stopped before it happened to prolong her arousal. As she slowly placed the vibrator back into her purse, she glanced upwards to look outside again. She then looked at the clock on the wall above a landscape painting and noticed that it was about fifteen minutes to closing. She slowly stood and walked towards the storage room near the back of the gallery. She stopped near the cashier station and grabbed the drawer before walking back into the room and opening the little fireproof safe on the floor to put the drawer into. Sadly, there were no sales that day either due to the economy or due to other factors. Pat wasn't concerned just because it gave her time to play and time to check her favorite websites for inspiration while she played. After the safe locked, she started to stand still facing the back of the storage room when a black gloved hand covered her mouth. Her eyes went wide as she was unable to react while she was twirled around to face the front of the gallery. She saw a man in black with a black ski mask messing with the door from the inside. As he pulled the string to the open sign, she started to panic inside her head. A voice next to her ear started whispering. "Evening, flower. My friend and I figured since we were in the neighborhood, we're going to help you close down for the night. And since we just got out of the joint, we need a little playtime before we make our escape. Hope you don't mind, but we're going to have to use you to relieve ourselves." After saying that, Pat watched as the man in front of her started to undo his jeans. His jeans started sliding down as Pat saw white skin. She started thinking about what their intentions were. Before she saw his penis, she felt the other guy pull backwards. "We need to close this storage room door, Bruce. So get in here." "Bruce" walked into the room before closing the door behind him. As he finished fishing his cock out of his jeans, Pat was abruptly pushed onto the counter. It was at such a height that Pat could easily take his cock into her mouth if she were a willing participant rather than a victim. As Pat looked upwards towards the lone light above the station, she felt a pair of hands on her blouse. She looked at the guy that was holding her and saw black ski mask. Both men were of average height and weight and covered up any sign that could identify them. She looked down and her blouse was already unbuttoned. She started cursing herself for not wearing a pull over sweater and a granny style bra that day. As she looked above her head, Bruce's cock was already being stroked above her face. She endeavored to keep her mouth closed, but a rough pinch on her hardened left nipple made her yelp and Bruce slid into her mouth. All Pat could see was the testicles and inner thigh of Bruce as he kept fucking her mouth. She tried to bite his dick to get him to stop, but was powerless due to the feeling coming from her needy pussy. She felt a warm fleshy dick being slid inside her and she moaned onto Bruce's dick. "See, David? I knew this slut was hot for it," Bruce said excitedly as he kept sliding his cock in and out of her mouth. Bruce's cock was long enough that it started hitting the back of Pat's throat. Pat tried to resist until she felt David's hands on her hips pounding her pussy. She was emotionally challenged because of the feeling of powerlessness from being taken by two strangers and the feeling of lust from the men taking her like they were. She felt her nipples rubbing against the table as David was thrusting into her. She couldn't help but climax once from their workings. 'Damn, she was hard up," David said as he pulled his cock out. Bruce soon followed suit and Pat felt open and empty while she wondered what the two were up to. She rolled over to her side as her skirt fell over her leg again. She tried to get a look at the men, but could still only see their cocks as one of them knelt next to her face. "Hoping to see our faces, you slut?" the man said. Pat recognized it as David's voice if that was his real name. She started whimpering. "Please, I'll do whatever you want if you let me live. I'll suck your cocks til you cum. I'll fuck you any way you want to. Please don't kill me," she begged. She started feeling the fear from earlier before David spoke up. "Look, he's the psychopath. I'm just going along until we can get away," David whispered looking around. "Bruce just wants to fuck you and then we'll be on our way. Play along and you'll be fine, okay?" Pat nodded her head fearfully while David reached behind with a pair of scissors he found and cut the ties. He then whispered to her, "Ok, you'll have to play along. Get off the table on your knees. I have to make it look like I am fucking your face. Please forgive me because I normally don't do this kind of thing." Pat obeyed immediately and opened her mouth to start inhaling his dick. She went gently because Bruce seemed to fuck her throat a little raw before she started feeling David's cock throb a bit. She gently eased off a bit before David looked down. "What are you doing?" Pat looked up at him. "He needs to see you cum in my mouth if he is going to believe what you are doing. So I am slowing it down a bit." She began to bite under his cock on his sack a little to keep him erect until she felt his hand on the back of her head. On cue, she inhaled his dick again and began to suck hard before feeling the first shots of his seed going down her throat. She then heard Bruce behind her. "That's a good slut. Swallow that homo's seed. See David, I told you women suck cock better than guys." Pat looked down so she didn't smile up at David. As she felt Bruce nearby, he whispered in her ear. "Okay slut, time to take that sweet ass of yours. If you fuck me right, we'll leave and you can go home to whoever you stay with. If you resist..." She felt a blade along her arm. She looked and saw an eight inch knife. Pat made her decision. "Please, sir, take my ass. I'll do whatever you say." "Do you have anything to lube me with?" Bruce asked. Pat looked towards her desk near the front of the gallery. Bruce then told David to go find it. Meanwhile, he grabs some of Pat's hair and began to slide into her throat again. Pat started sucking him again, but then slowed down. Bruce looked down at her. "What are you doing, slut?" he asked angrily. Pat removed his cock from her mouth. "You don't want to cum before tapping this, do you?" she asked getting in the spirit of the act. Bruce looked down at her although Pat had a feeling he was smiling underneath. It was then David walked back in. "How's this?" he asked throwing him a bottle of lube. Bruce looked at the brand before he started barking orders. "Okay, slut, bend over the table." Pat obeyed even pulling her skirt up so that he didn't have to rip it off. Bruce then took a couple of fingers and started sliding them over her ass. "Master, can I suck him off again?" Pat asked. Brian was smiling under his mask the way that this slut was playing along. As David stood on a chair to get closer to her mouth, Brian slid inside her ass and began to fuck. Pat grabbed David's cock gently as she started playing with the head of it. Bruce was enjoying the sight. "This bitch is hot to trot," he said before he had an idea. "David, pull out for a second." David did as he was told before Bruce grabbed Pat around the waist and pulled her towards him. They both fell into an office chair behind him and Bruce's dick slid all the way inside Pat's sphincter. Pat let out a combination moan and screams as Bruce then spread her legs to show David. "Okay, David, slide that rod in here," Bruce commanded as Pat looked down. She watched as David was hesitant at first before she felt the head of it slide into her pussy again. They remained like that for a while, each convict fucking Pat as she moaned and egged them on. David pulled out and let a second dose of semen fly onto Pat's stomach and chest before Bruce told her to get off. Pat went to her knees and began to frig herself as she sucked Bruce's cock before she felt his hand push her head on him. She opened her throat as his seed went cascading down it. Pat then looked up and licked her lips getting into the role before Bruce stood and went to the phone. "I cut the phone lines, so you can't call the cops yet. You will remain there for ten minutes before you clean yourself off and go home to your husband. If I find that you rat us out to the cops, I will visit you where you live and have to deal with both of you. Do you understand?" "Yes Master," she said hoping they would go. Bruce then grabbed a few more cable ties and secured her to the office chair before both he and David went out the front door. Pat was able to move close enough to the table to retrieve the scissors and cut the ties before she covered herself up and went to the door of the gallery. As she checked her cell phone in her purse, she saw the text message from her husband asking how her role playing went. She smiled to herself as she locked the gallery door and headed towards her car. Gallery Night A sincere note of thanks to Angel Love who was gracious enough to edit this work and make recommendations that makes it possible My journey began a few years ago when I was exposed to erotic stories. I began to read and then discovered my hidden interests. The following took place in a larger city last summer. Every fourth Friday there is an event called "Gallery Night" which means all of the art galleries open with wine and cheese being served. All types of people participate usually in small groups or alone, both male and female. I went with an out of town relative who laughingly warned me that all types usually attend these events and I would be exposed to some who might be different than mainstream vanilla society. This excited me! I met several men and women, exchanging warm smiles with others. My relative never knew she had exposed me to a group that I would be enchanted within the months to come. My next "Gallery Night" I roamed every gallery, meeting and chatting with several, some that I had seen before. One lady I noticed several times, exchanging smiles but never meeting. She was around mid-forty with short dark hair, almond-shaped eyes, and wore little if any make up. She had on a plain dress with buttons in the front, and sandals, all very appealing to me. She usually was alone or talking to other men and women. The men almost always looked artsy and often their mannerisms suggested they were gay. I talked to some of the same people and almost left with one. Toward the end of the night she began to smile at me every time our eyes met and as everyone was leaving I found myself next to her. We both laughed and introduced ourselves. She told me she was intrigued by watching me but was unsure of why I was there. She had expected me to join some of those I talked with but I never did. She invited me to a late snack at a small restaurant next door. I was elated. We talked and I began to feel that she was always in control and always knew what she wanted. The more we chatted the more I knew I liked her. Each could start a sentence and the other knew immediately how to finish it. I was as infatuated as I think I had ever been on meeting someone. I asked her why she was so intrigued with me and unsure why I attended the showing. She just smiled and while looking directly into my eyes told me that she might be totally wrong but she did not think so. She told me at first she thought I was interested only in women, and then she was unsure thinking I might be gay. To her that did not exactly fit. Her final assessment was that I was totally liberated sexually and was no doubt submissive, being able to serve either male or female depending on who connected with me. As the words rolled from her lips I began to turn bright red, I blushed more than I can ever remember. She just laughed softly and put her hands on mine telling me what I felt was very normal and wonderful. She then asked if her assessment was correct. I stammered, afraid to answer, until she demanded a response. I just opened up and told her she was correct and that at times I was ashamed and at times proud of my submissive feelings. I told her that from the moment I saw her my heart rate went out of control. The thought that she might be Dominant was overwhelming. She replied that she found me interesting and wanted to know more about my feelings. I very softly whispered that she fascinated me and that from the first minute I felt like I belonged to her. She called for the check and told me we were going to a more intimate club. The club was downtown in the warehouse section. It had no sign, just a parking lot across from the door. We entered a small foyer where a woman was sitting at a small desk. The two women knew each other and my friend explained I was new, never been there before, and she was sure I would fit in nicely. We were allowed to enter a dimly lit bar area where I noticed several women both at the bar and at small tables in the area. I saw two other men, both with females, but they did not acknowledge my presence. We sat at the bar as she explained that this was a very special place for her and that it was exclusively for women. Women escorted men, submissive men, there. She then stared into my eyes as if she were searching my desires. Knowing not what to say, I just blurted out my feelings that I would eagerly do whatever she requested. Smiling, she turned on the bar stool facing me. She placed one hand on my shoulder pushing me down as she unbuttoned her dress and opened the front. There at the bar, in front of everyone, I knew her wish for me. I stared into her eyes as I knelt before her, hoping she could sense how much I wanted to please her. Slowly my head moved to her body. My lips wanted to be between her legs. My nostrils flared as the scent of a woman filled my senses. My heart was pounding as I opened her with my tongue. She made no sound but I felt her approval from wetness. I served. I gradually began to notice that several of the women had gathered around and that the bar lights were brighter. Eventually she pulled me to a standing position and made me face the group. Some smiled, some gave me the look that they would enjoy me later, all eyes were on us—lustful, curious, and some amused. My new friend knew I was hers. She enjoyed the feeling that she had the control and wanted to use it. She then led me over to one of the tables hidden in the darkness. Seated was one of the men I had talked to at the gallery and an older woman. The women spoke and then I was told to kneel. The older woman spoke briefly to her companion; he rose from his chair, and stood before me. Slowly he dropped his pants exposing an enormous semi erect cock. His pubic area was completely void of hair, which made his circumcised cock stand out even more. My new friend bent to my ear and whispered that I should taste him. She knew it was something I could do and would do and she wanted to be the force that pushed me into it. I had hesitated only a second before she told me to look into her eyes and to keep my focus on her, she would tell me all I needed to know. Then she placed her hand on the back of my head, gently pushing me toward him. My lips parted as I accepted what she wished for me. She was telling me how and what I should do next, how to hold my mouth and how deep to take him. He was fully erect and my mouth was so full. My lips pulled on his purple ring of pleasure. Her eyes were glistening from excitement. She was cooing to me the whole time and told me he was close. She told me to use my hands to spread his ass cheeks and then to use my fingers to enter his rose. Immediately I could feel him begin to swell. I could get several fingers in easily as she told me I could be like that with her training. As I pushed into his rose and rubbed his head with my tongue I was told to take all of his honey. His squirts were jets of hot semen and with each squirt I could feel his rose contractions as well as his cock pulsating while electric jolts charged thru his body. Her eyes were glazing over as I took the last. I tenderly used my tongue to rub over his drained member. She pulled me back and he returned to his seat never looking at me. I was told to stand and we retreated to another dark corner. She looked at me as a gentle smile formed. She took my hand and as our eyes met she asked me if I had enjoyed. My reply was yes. She asked if any of this was a first for me to which I replied it all was. She wanted to know all of my feelings, which I readily babbled to her. She then asked if I wanted to continue on the journey that she had planned for me. I lowered my head as I whispered yes. She told me to stand in front of her as she turned her chair to the wall. Shielding me from the others, she asked me to drop my pants. As they fell my member sprang from the constraints of my pants, I was dripping. She placed her hand under my cock using her fingers to reach almost to my rose as she began massaging and milking me for pre cum. Droplets began to flow. She quickly retrieved a plug from her purse and as I watched she began to coat the tip and sides with my own juices. Sternly I was ordered to bend over and spread. As I opened myself, she took the last drop and rubbed my rose, inserting the tip of her finger inside of me. As she withdrew, she pushed her coated plug into me. In one swift motion I had been filled. She turned me around and told me to pull my pants up commenting that I must be a virgin. She told me she enjoyed being my first and always wanted that plug in when we talked. Her finger began tracing an outline on my lips before plunging it into my mouth. I sucked and tasted me, almost melting from the look of pleasure on her face. I agreed to be her pet and began my journey. Gallery Night Domme I would like to extend grateful appreciation to Angel Love who edited this story. * I had nervously searched my mail every day with no word from her and then it came. A short note with instructions to be squeaky clean, inside and out, dressed only in shorts, shirt, and sandals and to be at her address at a specific time. I spent hours preparing, all the time my heart racing just thinking about what might happen. I rang the bell and suddenly she was right before me. Dressed just as I was, she had on shorts, sandals, and a blouse. Smiling, she opened the door and I stepped inside. I followed her to a massive wing chair where she scooped up a list and leather crop as she sat down. I stood before her as she simply told me to undress. Quickly I slipped out of the sandals, pulled the shirt off, and dropped my shorts. Blushing I stood before her my eyes darting first to her face then her crossed legs, her feet, then her hair, she was perfect. Not a word was spoken. Our eyes met and her expression and warmth calmed me. She looked at me . . . no she inspected me, starting at my face, then my torso. She used the crop to move my arms. She rubbed the leather end against my nipples quietly mentioning that they harden easily. The crop then moved below my hanging testicles and tapping on my inner thigh I knew to spread my legs. The crop tapped against my manhood as she noted the leaking pre-cum. She then put her smallest finger against the tip of my cock and pushed. Laughing, she told me she could improve on that opening. She then held up my sack and rolled the length of the crop against my man balls. I was on fire but too timid to do anything but gaze into her eyes. She thanked me for shaving completely telling me she loved the bare look. She then used the crop to turn me around and told me to bend over. The crop found my rose as she pushed against me. Just as she almost broke my barrier she stopped. She led me down the hall into a darkened room and I was told to lie on a table. My arms and legs were tied with wide bands of nylon and held with Velcro tabs. Completely restrained she placed a small package on my stomach. It was heavy, about 12 inches long, and covered with a white coarsely woven fabric. She pulled up a tray containing bottles and syringes and began attending to me. Squirting a white liquid from a green bottle onto my cock she rubbed the tip and shaft then removed it with a warm towel. She then used a syringe to inject a clear lube into the tip of my cock telling me that the burning would stop soon. I did not know what to think or feel. My emotions were rampant with different thoughts. I was sexually on fire, I was almost frightened. I knew I was in safe hands, but I had no idea what would happen next. I did feel totally submissive and wanting to be used for her enjoyment. She unwrapped the package and I saw four long metal rods of varying sizes. She took the smallest and held it up for me to see. It was curved, made of surgical steel, 10 inches long and rounded at both ends. She then picked up the largest which was much thicker and compared the two telling me the smallest would be used first in my stretching program. A look of wonderment was on her face as she slowly lowered the tip of the rod to the tip of my cock. The rod tip was inserted into me as she held the rod straight up. Slowly with only its weight applying force it sank into my manhood. I was in another world; a world of being totally submissive and a world of being excited to the boiling point. The sensation of a metal rod being inserted into the most delicate and personal part of my body was only overshadowed by the person in total control. She stepped back and kicked off her sandals. Her blouse was hurriedly unbuttoned and flung to the side. Her breasts swayed as she removed her shorts. Her body was perfect, large globe shaped breasts, nipples standing out and begging to be tasted, and a sex so smooth and beautiful I could have loved it forever. She knew I was in heaven. We both admired the other but her attention returned to my penetrated sex. The rod had stopped in its entrance and while raising the rod she redirected its passage to allow it to again slip further into my body. With only a portion of the rod showing she looked at me and gently squeezed my balls as she told me I belonged to her. She grasped the rod with one hand and put her other around my cock. She slowly began pushing and pulling on the rod in much the same way that I would have worked my phallus if it had been inside of her body. I was climaxing mentally from the eroticism of her play. Pulling the rod out she went to the next larger size. I knew then that she would only be finished when I was enlarged enough for her smallest finger to be inserted inside of me. As the next rod more slowly slipped inside of me she knew neither of us could last. She straddled my face and used my lips and tongue to bring her to orgasm. After she was relieved she removed the rod as I gushed cum over my shaved body. Quickly she removed my restraints and left the room telling me to clean up and return to her chair. I sat below her as we went over a submissive questionnaire. It included every fetish and desire that either of us had ever dreamed of. There were only a few of the items that we mutually agreed not to explore. Her last comment was that she wanted me back for another taste of her toys . . . To be continued . . .