Consume

Paint was everywhere.

It was splattered in globs of green and blue, smeared in hues of yellow and dotted in speckles of grey and purple. Chris couldn't help but see every imperfection in his paintings. The euphoric high he got while painting was only matched by the loathing he felt for the finished work once it was hung in the gallery like this, blasted with fluorescent light, on display for hungry eyes. He hated these exhibitions, but even starving artists need to eat from time to time.

He watched as potential patrons wandered the gallery. Their Luis Vuittons, and Rolexes, and Pradas all out on display as much as the art. He wondered if any of them had ever worried about paying a bill, or where their next meal might come from.

His thoughts were interrupted by the feeling that he was being watched. A group had gathered in front of him to assess his work, but he had the distinct feeling someone was looking at him instead of his painting. He scanned the crowd until he locked eyes with a woman in the back. She was beautiful: her full lips painted a crimson red that popped against her white cheeks; and terrifying: wearing a bright red blazer that hung all the way to the floor and covered a jumper as jet black as her hair. The woman's gaze blazed a hole through the crowd, and sent a shiver down Chris's spine.

She didn't break eye contact as she glided through the crowd. The people seemed to part in front of her, like reeds around a panther as it stalks its prey. Chris braced himself as she approached, half-expecting an impact.

"Tell me of yourself," she said directly, in a thick Russian accent.

He took a step back. He wasn't sure what to say. The directness took him off guard, and patrons didn't typically want to know about him. They usually wanted to dissect his paintings as if there were clues to hidden treasure within it. He wasn't prepared to talk about himself.

"Well, um," he stuttered. "I like to paint things about society I guess. Like this one. See, the man looks out over the beach on his veranda. And on the beach are climate refugees, crowded in sweltering heat. It symbolizes inequality of...," he trailed off, noticing the woman was smiling at him. She looked like she was listening to a child, humoring him out of affection.

"What's so funny? " he said.

She waved her hand at nothing in general. "This is the purpose of art, then? To say something of society?"

"Yes. Absolutely," said Chris. This was more familiar ground for him.

The woman looked him in the eye for several long seconds, before nodding at the painting.

"I will buy," she said, almost dismissively. "And you will come to this address tonight, for my dinner party." She handed him a business card. It was thick, and onyx-black with white, raised lettering. By the time he looked up, the woman was already walking away.

"Ask for Diana," she said over her shoulder.

****

He arrived late to the party. He hadn't been sure if he was going to go at all, but eight-thirty rolled around and he found himself looking at the card Diana had given him. It was sleek and polished, like the woman herself. Not long after he'd found himself getting hard in the shower, thinking about her. Then looking up the address and calling a cab.

He'd been to these parties before. Patrons, full from their gorge on artwork, somehow still wanted their dessert. They wanted a taste of the artists themselves, to feel like they had some intimate, private connection to the art they had bought.

This woman seemed a bit more eccentric, but he knew the drill: he'd give a rich, bored housewife plenty to taste, she would overpay for his artwork, and then he would have enough money to live free and paint whatever he wanted for the next six months. The sex was always a nice cherry on top, too, he thought as he stepped out of the cab to the front lawn.

The extravagance of the house caught him by surprise. He was used to wealthy patrons, but these people were clearly in another class altogether. A stone exterior lined the left wing of the house. He heard water trickling down the stones as he made his way up the meticulously manicured lawn. A row of orange trees were planted on either the walkway to the door, giving the air an almost overpowering citrus fragrance.

Chris hesitated as he reached the front door. The ultra-wealthy might have mammoth amounts of money to spend, but he'd also heard some unsettling stories about their unusual requests. The large oak door opened before he could change his mind.

Two elegantly dressed women in the middle of a conversation stood in the doorway. "I know, I know," the one in front was saying, "but it's just so delicious." They both laughed before noticing Chris.

"Well hello," said the blonde on the left. "You're new."

Chris cleared his throat. "I am. I met Diana at the gallery. She gave me an invite for tonight." He pulled the card out of his pocket and showed it.

"Diana, of course," said the brunette on the right, looking at the other woman. "Come, come," she beckoned Chris inside.

The inside of the house was even more decadent. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, lined with dim lights that cast a warm glow over the lavish interior design. What Chris thought sounded like Bach was playing from unseen speakers in the parlor.

"This way," said brunette. The blonde drifted off to join a group of people. They were chatting near a silver sculpture of a hawk swooping down and grasping a cat in its talons. He guessed it was more expensive than everything he owned combined.

"You're just in time for the first exhibition," said the brunette, not turning to look at him while they walked. She led him to a large dining hall where the table was pushed to the side of the room, replaced by a platform in the center. A group was gathered in front of it, sipping their cocktails in anticipation. The brunette disappeared from his side as Chris joined the growing crowd.

A man in a well-tailored suit was standing next to him, holding a whiskey. "What's this all about?" Chris asked.

"Appetizers," the man said. He pumped his eyebrows up and down a couple of times. The brunette reappeared with a tumbler of bronze liquid, handing it to Chris.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Shh," said the woman, turning to the stage as two women in lingerie carried a metal contraption on to the platform. It had a forked base attached to a tall pole with a metal hoop at the top. The women left the stage and a man appeared with a drill, proceeding to screw the base into the platform.

Chris decided to lean into whatever this spectacle was. He took a sip of his drink, which tasted like an old fashioned with a hint of citrus. It was good. He took another sip and waited.

A few moments later the lingerie-clad women returned, this time leading a man wearing nothing but boxer briefs. He was young and muscular, with large broad shoulders, and his mouth was stuffed with a ball-gag. The man looked slightly dazed as the two women led him to the platform and proceeded to handcuff him to the metal pole.

This was the exact kind of weirdness he'd heard about, Chris thought, getting slightly hard. But the drink was good, and the people on stage were sexy enough that he wanted to see where it went.

Someone in the crowd handed the woman with white lingerie a bottle of oil. She smiled, drizzling it over the man's shoulders and then began rubbing it all over his body, working her way down his washboard abs. She then reached down into his briefs and pulled out his cock, covering her mouth with one hand to play coy. The man let out a groan.

Chris looked around at the group. The spectators were all enthralled. They watched intently as the girl started stroking the man's hard cock, while the other woman in black lingerie continued rubbing oil on him, kissing his large muscles. He groaned more, and writhed.

"Isn't he such a stud, ladies?" cooed the woman in white, with his cock in her hand. She pumped it back and forth a few times before getting down on her knees and wrapping her lips around it.

The women in the crowd whooped and hollered encouragements. Chris felt his own cock getting rock hard. She worked the man's cock expertly with her mouth, bobbing her head back and forth as she cupped his large balls in her hands.

"Who's ready for a taste?" the woman in black said to the crowd. They answered with more cheers. She turned to the handcuffed man. "Does our big stud want to give us a nice big appetizer?"

He shook his head no, struggling more as Chris realized that it looked like he was trying to get away from the woman who had his cock in her mouth.

"Aww," the woman in black mocked. "I think he's shy. Oh well."

The one on her knees picked up her pace, taking his cock in and out of her mouth and looking up. His muscles all tensed as she pulled her mouth off and started pumping it with her hand. "Here we go," she said as someone in the crowd handed her a crystal glass. She held it under the man's cock and pumping rhythmically until he finally erupted.

Oohs and awes came from the crowd as she milked the man, filling almost half the glass. Once she squeezed out the last drop, she kissed the tip of his cock before winking at the crowd. Then she took a sip.

"Delicious," she said as she handed the cup to a woman standing in the crowd.

She took her own sip. "Mmm," she moaned. "It's so good."

Cheers came from the crowd. The woman in black nodded her head to the now-drained man. He was slumped and hanging from the metal contraption.

"Get him out of our sight," she said. "We're done with him."

The man's eyes went wide as two other large men approached the platform. He frantically wiggled, trying to free himself, to no avail. The crowd passed the cup around as various women took sips, paying no attention to the men unfastening the handcuffs and pulling the used man from the platform. He kicked and mumbled as he was dragged off down the hallway.

"Next!" shouted the woman in black.

Chris didn't know what he had just witnessed. Whatever it was, it had not seemed like a voluntary performance. He decided not to stick around to find out what was next. He turned around to head for the door, but he found Diana behind him instead.

****

"Enjoying the show, love?" said Diana, smiling.

Chris opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but was cutoff by a frantic shrieking. He turned back around to see a young woman being brought to the platform. She was completely nude and gagged, and squirming desperately.

"Oh, we got a fighter!" said the woman in black. The crowd laughed.

The girl was pulled on to the stage and cuffed in the same manner as the man. The women in lingerie wasted no time drizzling the oil onto her breasts. They were obviously enjoying themselves, pausing to kiss each other as they played with the girl.

The one in white was handed a wand from the crowd. She laughed, holding it up in front of the girl and flipping a switch on the side which caused the head to vibrate furiously. The girl shook her head and mumbled against the gag, but the woman only laughed more and pressed the wand against the girl's clit. She shrieked more.

Chris turned to Diana. "Is this real?" he asked. The girl moaned and shrieked in the background.

"Nothing here is real," she sighed. She looked bored. She then turned to Chris and grabbed him by the arm. "I want to taste something real," she said. Her eyes brimmed with hope and excitement.

Chris relaxed some. He felt assured that the show was, in fact, only a show. One that had made him harder than he could ever remember being, despite the absurdity of it.

"I'm real," he said to Diana, putting his arm around her waist and grabbing her ass.

"Yes," said Diana. She pulled away, grabbing him by the arm and leading him away from the group. "You are."

He downed the rest of his drink and let Diana lead him down one of the hallways. Paintings of blood red skies with vague black-winged creatures were hung on the walls.

They walked by a room where Chris could see the silhouette of a man standing in the dark. Two figures were on their knees and appeared to be servicing the man's cock. Diana turned and smiled as they continued down the hall. "Many pleasured in this house," she said.

At the end of the hallway they came to a large double doorway. Diana pressed her hand against the wood, pushing the heavy door open as she turned the ornate handle.

The doorway opened to one of the most exquisite bedrooms Chris had ever seen. An enormous bed that made a king-size look tiny was placed against the right wall. It sat flush on the floor, and had a solid mahogany headframe and canopy that matched a vanity on the opposite wall. Centered on the far wall was a massive set of bay windows that overlooked the city. Lace curtains hung from ceiling, filtering the moonlight streaming through the windows.

Diana walked to the vanity and opened the top drawer. She pulled out what looked like a luxury perfume bottle and spritzed her wrists. She then drifted back to Chris, pulling to the center of the room.

"Smell," she said, lifting her wrist. Chris inhaled a musky scent.

"Bergamot," she whispered, "with virgin sweat and oil."

"What?" Chris half-laughed. "How would you get such a thing?"

Diana smiled coyly as she placed the perfume back in her drawer. She walked towards Chris, swaying her hips in her dress that hugged her skin. She placed her hand on his chest, leaned in, and gave his bottom lip the softest kiss before pushing him down on to the bed.

****

"Enough game," said Diana. She pointed at Chris's belt. "Undo."

Chris did as he was told. His cock hadn't been this rock hard in ages. He wanted to rip that dress off and take her. He pulled himself out and started stroking.

She watched him for a moment, before returning to the vanity. Chris could see her watching him in the mirror as she slid the straps of her dress off her shoulder and let it fall to the floor.

"Why do you paint?" she asked as she opened one of the other drawers. He was so distracted by the sight of her ass in her black lace panties that he almost didn't hear her.

"I uh...", he started. "I just like the expression of it I guess. I like to paint things that are true."

Diana pulled a set of cuffs from the drawer and walked toward him. She pulled him up off the bed, lifted his arms up, and cuffed his wrists to the bed canopy.

"Continue," she said.

Chris looked up apprehensively. He wasn't quite sure what to expect after what he'd seen, but Diana reached down and started stroking him before he could object. The feeling of her soft fingers against his hard cock clouded his mind.

"Oh, fuck," he moaned.

Diana knelt down and took him into her mouth slowly, teasing him with her lips before looking up.

"You were saying?"

Chris closed his eyes to focus. "Right. Um, I like the freedom of it," he said as she glided her tongue across the his shaft. "I-, I'm not exploited. My work is my own."

At this Diana threw her head back and laughed. She seemed genuinely amused. Her hand slid across his cock a few more times before she stood and locked her piercing eyes with his.

"You think you are free?"

Chris tried to think of a response. He came up empty as he watched her return to the vanity again. This time she opened up the bottom cabinet to what looked like a mini fridge. She pulled out an ice pack, then walked back with her seductive sway. Leaning in close, she whispered into his ear:

"People like you exist for people like me," she said, before wrapping his cock in the freezing cold ice pack.

"Ah!" Chris yelled. The shock of the cold made him jump, but Diana held him, securing its Velcro straps. He looked down and felt his cock getting soft as the blood rushed out of it.

"Wh-" he stuttered. "What are you doing?"

Diana knelt down and blew on his cock. Her lips looked perfect as she cooled his cock even more. "Tsk. What shame," she teased. "He was so ready to go, wasn't he?"

Chris was speechless. He could only watch as his cock shrunk, going soft and useless even though he was more turned on than he'd ever been.

Once he was fully soft, Diana produced a small metal contraption. She pulled Chris's pants down and tossed them to the side.

"Wait," he said.

Diana ignored him, removing the ice pack and tossing it aside. She then methodically began opening the metal cage and securing it around his soft cock.

Chris squirmed and tried to back away but was stopped by a firm pair of hands on his hips, holding him in place. He yelped again, turning to see a large, muscular bald man behind him. Chris gasped, and the man used the opportunity to stuff a rag into his mouth.

"This is my husband, Ivan," said Diana, standing up. "I apologize. He is, as you say, a bit of brute."

The man hopped off the bed and walked to the foot of it. He spun Chris around and slapped his ass. Chris cried out against the rag, looking helplessly at Diana. She was watching the two of them as she crawled on to the bed. She then sat back and spread her legs in front of Chris, and starting touching herself.

"I suspect you have never been with a man," she said as she pulled her panties to the side and rubbed her clit. "No? Good. Ivan likes them that way. Don't forget the oil, dear."

The man grunted behind him. Chris struggled against his restraints, but couldn't go anywhere. A few seconds later he felt the mans hands on his ass again, spreading oil across his cheeks before a finger slipped inside him. He squealed, and the man laughed behind him.

Thoughts raced through Chris's mind as fast as his beating heart. His cock ached against its cage, already getting hard again. He felt the man's hands on his hips, pulling his ass backward, and before he could protest the man sunk his thick cock into Chris's ass.

The new sensation was overpowering. The large cock pushed it's way into his him, stretching and filling him in ways he'd never experienced. It was all too much. Chris's mind went blank as come oozed out of his caged cock, dripping on to the floor without providing an ounce sexual release.

Diana gasped. "Yessss," she said, rubbing her clit as her legs shook. Chris watched his cock ooze more on to the floor. He lifted his head in a daze and made eye contact with Diana.

"What a pretty girl you make," she said between breaths. "And if you ever want the key to that cage, you'll be painting for me now."