Secret Society Audition Ch. 02

PART TWO

Amy took my hand and together we walked out the door, along with the thirty other couples who still remained.

The door didn't lead into another room - it led into a courtyard. Softly lit, full of shrubs and fountains and Greek-style statues of women, shapely and bare-breasted.

But no one paid much attention to the statues, because the courtyard was filling with real women, also shapely and mostly bare-breasted. The air was cool, and I could see Amy shiver a little, but I couldn't tell if it was from cold or excitement.

We sat on a bench, and she leaned against me. She was naked except for the small panties she wore. I put an arm around her to keep her warm.

Now and then, when another couple passed, I noticed the man glance at her. His eyes always lingered on her breasts. Every time this happened, she wiggled a little, or stretched, or found a reason to arch her back. I couldn't tell if it was on purpose or not, but I realized I was turned on by it. I was proud to be the one sitting with her, her bare hip pressed against my clothed one.

Then the door opened again, and a new couple came out.

He was tall and gray, in an elegant suit. She was also tall and gray, in an set of silver lingerie and black garters and jewelry. Her legs were long and still perfect.

"Good evening," the man said. "And congratulations. It's time for some rest, you've earned it. You'll each be shown to your accommodations, where you'll spend the night. Please do get some rest, we need you fresh for tomorrow. And I do mean fresh. Most of you will probably be very aroused by tonight's activity. But you are not permitted to have sex tonight. Not with each other, not with anyone you've just met. This is a condition of this trial. You will only be having sex when we permit. You belong, now, and as long as you continue, to The Society. Please understand, this is to increase your desire in the morning."

He paused.

"Once again, thank you, and congratulations. You'll be given further instructions in the morning."

Each couple was approached by a servant - either a man in a simple, dignified suit and gloves, or a woman in a cut-away maid uniform - and led across the courtyard into a hall of rooms.

Our room was opulent. Like the finest hotel. The floor and ceiling were mosaic and the bed was a massive four-poster.

We sat on the bed, looking at each other sheepishly. After looking at them all evening, I finally reached out and gently brushed one of Amy's nipples.

She smiled. "We can't."

"I know."

"But you can hold me."

So I slid out of my suit, hung it up, and curled around her on the bed. Ass pressed into my crotch, arms wrapped around her holding a boob in each.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"As long as you are," I said.

"What do you think we're going to do tomorrow?"

I ran a hand down her hip and hooked a thumb in the waistband of her panties. "Probably won't keep these on much longer."

I felt a shiver of anticipation run through her. I slipped my hand forward and cupped her mound.

"No," she said, even though her body was involuntarily thrusting against it. I could tell she was as hungry for sex as I was. "That's too close to sex."

I pulled my hand away.

"I want to," she said. "Oh god I want to. But I want to win. I want to be in one of those paintings with you."

-----

In the morning, the same servant rapped on our door.

She handed us a new suit, a new gown, and told us breakfast would be in the great hall.

I dressed, and then zipped Amy up in her dress.

It was a beautiful dress, but too scandalous to wear in public.

It was slit up to the ribcage - every time she moved, half an asscheek showed. And the front of the bodice was filmy and transparent. Her perfect breasts were pressed against it, nipples completely visible. On display.

Arm in arm, we went out into the hall and strode confidently through the courtyard.

As we crossed it, and saw other couples in similar clothes, she leaned in and whispered, "I'm so fucking horny, I hope they let you touch me soon."

I'd been aching for sex all night, sprawled on the bed with her nearly completely naked, and I'd gotten a blowjob the night before. She hadn't gotten to orgasm. She must have been desperate.

And breakfast offered no release. Just a delicious breakfast surrounded by men in suits and women in dresses either so small, or so tight it made my erection rage in my pants.

Finally, the silver couple from last night came onto the stage.

"Good morning," the man said again. "You know at The Society we're about more than sex. We're about culture. Fine dining, fine music, and the arts. Anyone permitted to join must also possess a refined taste. This is why, this morning, you will be creating an artistic installment."

There was a murmur.

"In the gallery wing of our building, there are thirty pedestals. One for each couple. You will arrange your exhibit and then we, the male Leaders of each year, will enter and enjoy your interactive exhibit. Ladies, you will be the subject of the exhibits. This will be our first opportunity to observer and touch your fully nude form."

Another murmur.

"Twenty-four of us will be inspecting the exhibit. When we are done, we will each, one at the time, select a couple to remain. The six couples who are not selected will be thanked for their exhibit and removed from the running. The wives of the leaders will be available to you for questions. My wife will now lead you to the gallery."

The stately woman, this time wearing a black gown,, led us into a long gallery room, made of shining white marble and full of natural light from skylights overhead. The walls held classical paintings - some still lives, some landscapes, and of course some tasteful nudes - but all eyes feel on the pedestals running down the middle of the long room. Each one was about six feet square, and slightly padded.

As we walked down the gallery, we saw the names of women on each one.

We stopped in front of Amy's and took a deep breath. She squeezed my hand.

"So you just...arrange yourself?" I asked. "Like art?"

Out of the corners of my eyes, I could see other couples looking at their pedestals. A few women were already trying poses, still fully clothed.

"Not like art," Amy said. "I am the art." She sat back on the pedestal and I could tell her heart was beating. There was a twinkle in her eye.

I sat beside her.

"You're getting turned on by this, aren't you?" I asked.

She smiled, looking both innocent and wicked, and leaned in close. I could feel her breath on my ear. "You are too, aren't you? Thinking about me on display. Like a living statue. For all those men to look at. And handle."

She wasn't wrong. I was getting unbearably hard.

"How about this," she said. "Stand back and look."

She stretched out her legs and reclined on one elbow, looking back over her shoulder at me. "The Grande Odalisque," she said.

I immediately blushed. Amy and I both liked art. We went to art museums together whenever we could, and it became a joke to her that I appreciated the nude paintings for more than their artistic merits. I knew the paintings she was talking about right away. A harem woman, stretched out naked and comfortable, looking back over her shoulder, the curve of her ass nestled into fabric, the curve of one breast visible under her arm.

"What do you think?" she asked.

We looked around. Other couples were preparing other poses. On either side of us, familiar faces. The couple with the grumpy husband, and Ramon and Tina. Tina was already in her bra and underwear, and they didn't do much to hide her thick, curvy body. She was sitting on the edge of the pedestal, legs dangling. Sitting made her ass spread wide, which made her waist look tiny. She was arching her back and thrusting her giant boobs out. Ramon was standing back, as awestruck as the rest of us.

The other couple were strategizing hard. The wife was striking a variety of yoga poses, and the husband was considering them. They finally landed on puppy pose. She started on hands and knees, and then stretched her arms out forward and dropped her chest to the pedestal, tilting her ass straight up in the air. Her husband saw me watching, and glared at me.

"We're all going to see all of them in the minute," I said.

He didn't respond. I turned back to Amy.

"I don't know if it's provocative enough," she said. "Some lady down there is just lying down with her legs spread."

"I think it's perfect," I said. "It's classic. It's classy."

"Then help me taking off my clothes," she said, holding eye contact while she said it.

Next to us, Ramon was unclasping Tina's bra. I was hard. I was sure every man was hard.

I helped Amy slide her dress off. As it fell to the ground, I was struck by what I was doing. Helping my wife strip and put herself on display for a panel of "art critics." The bra came next, and the underwear.

She slid her naked form onto the pedestal, stretched out her long legs, and turned her neck to look back at me. The effect was magical. Her long smooth spine drawing the eye down to her plump ass. She was one of the first to get completely naked, so all eyes went to her. She still wore a necklace, it dangled between her breasts.

The woman in the black dress walked through the gallery. She clapped her hands for attention. "We just have a few minutes before the gallery opens for the critics. Gentlemen, if you've helped your women into their place, please assume your place against the wall. You will look, but you will not touch. If your wife if selected to remain, you may then join the critics and respectfully engage with the gallery."

I gave Amy a kiss on the bare shoulder, and retreated to stand against the wall. The other men did the same, one by one.

The grumpy husband was still adjusting his wife's position. She was still fully clothed, in a clingy cocktail dress. The woman in black cleared her throat. Reluctantly, the man unzipped his wife and helped her step out of her dress. Waiting so long had the opposite effect he seemed to be hoping for - now every man in the gallery was looking as she undressed. She blushed powerfully as she undid her bra and stepped out of her panties. She was small and a little slender, but her boobs were big and teardrop shaped. Her ass was pert and cute. And as she assumed her puppy pose with her ass up in the air, every single one of us stared at her little pussy coming into view between her legs. Her breasts brushing the pedestal.

He glared at me, because I was the closest, as he took his place against the wall.

The doors opened, with a rush of cool air that causes a murmur among the naked women, and the critics came in. All ages of men, all dressed in the finest of suits. In a cluster, they walked up and down the gallery a few times, just looking. I could almost feel how exposed the women felt. The eyes drifting over them from head to toe, and judging.

Then they began to spread out and examine different women more closely. Two men stopped by Amy. I could see her heart beating. One bent down by her ass, close enough to touch, but just looking. The other stood on the other side, chin in hand, watching her boobs rise and fall, rise and fall. After a moment, another man joined them.

At the next pedestal, a man was squatted down, looking up at the grumpy man's wife's tilted pussy.

Then we heard a faint involuntary "eep," and looked down to the far end of the gallery. The oldest critic was leaned over a woman who was stretched out on her back, and was kneading her breasts with both hands. I looked back and saw a man put a hand on Amy's full ass. He squeezed for a moment, then stroked. All the way down her extended leg and back up. The second man came closer and softly, tantalizingly, began rubbing her nipples. The first man ran his hand along the cleft of her ass and I saw her lift her top leg just slightly as he slid his hand in between. She trembled as he slid a finger into her. With one man rubbing her nipples, another slowly and gently finger-fucking her from behind, the third man watched for a moment. Then he stepped closer and put his hand between her legs as well. He found her clit and started moving in a slow circle.

I knew Amy had been dying to be touched since last night. Her body must have been aching for it. Three separated men worked on it- vagina, clit, and nipples. I looked up and down. Some women had two men feeling them. A few had none. Amy was the only one whose body had drawn three.

I watched her quiver and watched these strangers hands on her. Fingers sliding in and out of her most intimate places.

The man working on her pussy slid his other thumb down the cleft of her ass and rested it on her pucker. I heard her draw in a breath.

Up and down the gallery, women were making noises now. Some squealing and yipping in fake-sounding porn-y ways. Others breathing low and guttural, moaning.

The grumpy man's wife seemed almost panicked by the sensations running through her as the old gentleman behind her lowered to his knees and gently put his face into her tilted pussy. He ran his tongue up and down her slit and she whimpered, "Oh, oh!" He reached around her trembling leg and started massaging one of her dangling breasts.

Farther down, I saw a tall, strong-looking woman standing with her legs slightly spread and her hands folded behind her head, breasts thrust forward and bouncing as she tried to hold still. A man was standing below her poking and tickling between her legs.

I looked back at Amy. I knew her body well enough to know she was trying to hold back a powerful orgasm, to stay still and artful, but holding it back would only make it more powerful when it came. One thumb was up her ass, two fingers in her vagina, another hand rubbing her clit in endless circles, a hand and a mouth on her nipples. Her cocked, arched back and her plumb ass cheeks were shaking with mounting pleasure.

I was close enough to hear as the man standing behind her leaned down beside her head. He kissed and then licked her neck. Then whispered in her ear. "You my dear are definitely moving on. I want to see more of this." He ran his tongue down her shoulder, down her long side, and then returned to her ear and bit the lobe. "We're not letting this body go home. So you can let go."

She whimpered. I swallowed. This strange man making my confident wife whimper like that.

"Let go," he said. "Come for us, baby."

As he said it he slide his thumb deeper in her ass, and his fingers deeper in her pussy. He bit her gently on the neck.

And she bucked against his hand, moaning, growling almost, as she orgasmed. She twitched and bucked, and the other men kept up their work as she ground her body against their hands. Everyone close by stopped to look at her. One or two men even left the women they were touching to come see the tail end of her orgasm. She flopped flat on the pedestal, chest heaving. The man who spoke to her bent down and kissed her breasts lightly. He took a sensitive nipple in his mouth and nibbled it.

"Oh," she said. "Don't tease me."

"Shh," he said. "Art doesn't talk. It's for admiring."

He kissed his way down her belly, her hipbone, and between her legs. She squirmed. He kissed each lip of her pussy, while the growing crowd watched.

The elegant woman came from nowhere. "I think it's safe to say she's and her husband are moving on?"

The man nodded. He winked at Amy. Still dazed from her orgasm, she smiled back.

The elegant women looked at me. "That means the two of you are, for the time being, viewers of this art gallery."

I looked around. "You mean we..."

"You have the full use of the artworks, yes. You and your wife."

I looked at Amy where she lay sprawled and glowing. She met my eyes and sat up.

Hand in hand, my naked wife and I moved through the gallery, looking for someone to admire.