tagBDSMThe Centerpiece

The Centerpiece


Miss Marion's house was abuzz with activity. This would be her seventh annual Winter Fete, and every year, she managed to outdo herself. Every room was decked with garlands, bows and bright ornaments. The dining table was glowing with candles and cloth of gold linens. Her servants were running this way and that, preparing food, putting up decorations, and of course, readying the playroom.

The honored guests who would sit at the table always included Miss Marion's closest friends. Their slaves would accompany them to the fete, whereupon they would become part of the staff, and eat from the floor off of trays behind their owners. Miss Marion's own servants and slaves, of course, would perform special duties. This year, one slave in particular had been selected for the very special role of centerpiece.

Slave number 12 had been with Miss Marion for several years, had provided countless hours of service, and had endured many hours of training. This year was his opportunity to shine.

The process began the morning of the fete. Miss Marion's groomer started by shaving number 12's body. Every bit of hair was removed, from his legs to his mustache.

Next, the groomer administered an enema. The largest bag was filled with water and a small amount of magnesium chloride, to ensure thorough cleaning. Number 12 laid on the grooming table and presented his supple rectum. The groomer inserted the nozzle, and number 12 felt the pleasant fullness gradually overtake his body. His cock, which had not known any pleasure at all for the last 10 days, became fully erect and began leaking fluid. Number 12 stifled a moan and endeavored to remain as still and quiet as he could. The water continued to flow, until it began to become painful. The urge to evacuate increased until he felt certain he could not withstand it. He held the water in, drawing on the strict training he had endured. Finally, he was led to the commode, where the water came out in a flood. Relief washed over him.

The groomer placed number 12 in a shower stall, where he was carefully cleaned of any residue. His body was cleaned and dried.

For the next part of the process, number 12 was taken to the playroom. A team of servants was waiting for him there, assembled around a plywood work table set up especially for this purpose. Number 12 was led onto the table, where he positioned himself on his hands and knees. He would not be leaving this position anytime soon.

First, the servants applied a layer of sterile plastic coating to his skin. This would prevent the following layers from sticking to the skin and prevent chafing.

As soon as this was completed, the servants began to apply strips of gauze dipped in plaster. The cast was made starting at number 12's neck and continued down his chest. They applied the plaster coating to his arms, which were bent slightly to prevent cutting off circulation. The cast continued down his torso, leaving open spaces around his ribcage so that his breathing would not be impaired. Then the plaster was applied to his hips, thighs and legs. His cock was left uncovered, as well as his ass. A leather hood was placed over his head.

When the cast was complete, number 12's body was completely confined. He could not move his arms or legs. He could not bend at the waist or at the hips. For the duration of the fete, he would remain encased in plaster. He was now only an object, and had but one purpose to serve.

When the cast was thoroughly dry, number 12 was lifted by the team of servants to the dining room, where he was placed at the center of the dining table. Surrounded by pine boughs and bright candles, he became the most grand centerpiece to ever grace Miss Marion's fete.

One by one, the guests arrived. Each one declared that this was the most impressive display yet, and congratulated Miss Marion. Even as the guests sat at the table and began the long-awaited feast, number 12 could not contain his arousal. His cock remained as hard as his plaster coating throughout the meal. Every time a guest marveled at his predicament, touched his plaster cast, and examined his private parts, this only stimulated him more.

As the meal drew to a close, and the servants carried away the dishes and what food was left, the guests grew even more interested in number 12. Eventually, Miss Marion's close friend, Sir Devan, asked if they might retire to the playroom.

"Oh yes," she replied. "The fun has only just begun!"

The team of servants reappeared and moved number 12 back to the playroom, where he was placed on a low bench.

Trailing behind Sir Devan were two slaves on leashes, one male and one female. He left the female slave kneeling to the side, and led his male slave to number 12's backside. He pulled on the leash and his slave stood up. Sir Devan secured the slave's hands behind his back, and unlocked the chastity belt covering his cock. Immediately it began to swell. Sir Devan stood behind him, gripped his neck, and stroked his cheek.

"For serving me faithfully, slave, this is your reward."

Sir Devan placed his fingers inside his slave's mouth. With his other hand, he applied a rich, creamy lubricant to his cock. He pushed the slave's hips forward and he entered number 12. Both slaves moaned deeply. Sir Devan's slave's eyes closed tight and his muscles contracted rhythmically. His hips continued moving, his large cock sliding in and out of number 12, going in slightly deeper each time. Number 12's cock was a reddish purple by this time, a small puddle of precum building up beneath him.

Finally, Sir Devan's slave leaned his head back. His whole body tensed as he achieved orgasm and his cock spilled its load deep inside number 12. Sir Devan cradled his slave and led him to a quiet corner where the two continued their play.

Meanwhile, the servants picked up number 12 once again. This time, they carried him to a cage with a hole in its top. Miss Marion had placed Sir Devan's female slave inside, with her head outside the hole. The cage was closed around her neck, holding her snugly in place. Number 12 was placed on top, and she took his cock inside her mouth and began delicately licking and sucking.

Miss Marion stood by number 12's head and gently stroked it. "You know the rules. You will hold out as long as possible."

A faint whimper emerged from number 12. The slave in the cage continued to apply her mouth skillfully. She placed her whole mouth on the cock for brief moments, followed by light flickings of her tongue, just barely touching it.

Number 12 grimaced. The torment was almost unbearable. Miss Marion took his face in both hands and kissed him on the head.


The slave in the cage sucked number 12's cock with abandon. He moaned deeply and ejaculated deep into her throat. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through him. Inside his plaster cage, his body went slack.

Miss Marion had him moved back to the floor, where he continued to serve as an object of amusement. Partygoers used his holes and his mouth. They used him as furniture. Helpless and unable to move, number 12 submitted to their attentions.

The Winter Fete continued well into the night. Exhausted guests found comfortable places to sleep. Miss Marion's servants tended to number 12's physical needs, then moved him to the master bedroom. Still encased, number 12 was placed at the foot of his mistress's bed. Miss Marion gently patted his head and climbed into her bed.

"Good night, slave."

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