The Con Artist

by Kitty Thomas

  No more frightful words than these could have left his mouth.

  Before her stood a large white box, taller than both she and Quill. The fourth side was the actual wall of the gallery. There was a small door next to that wall which led into the box.

  On the outer front panel were multiple glass dildos in varying colors—some large enough that Saskia clenched her thighs involuntarily at the sight of them. They were each shaped a bit differently. Who knew phallic came in so many exciting options?

  Some were totally smooth. Some had bumps and ridges. Some had large bulbous heads, while others ended in a slightly more defined point. Each of the penetrative toys was attached to a cord on one end, with the other end of that cord attached to the panel so that they all hung around a largish circular opening which was covered by a white curtain from inside the box.

  Near the opening, were shackles. Two small podiums stood next to the installation; one was a glass jar that requested payment, and the other was a substantial container of lubricant.

  The placard beside the installation read in big bold letters: “TAB A/SLOT B” The artist was listed as Jacob Hunter.

  “Another alias?” Saskia asked.

  “Yes. It’s an interactive piece about how we objectify and commodify women both in art and in life. The cameras will be on. I want to record reactions. Guilt, excitement, whatever I can capture on film.”

  “You’re making a statement about women’s objectification by objectifying me?”

  Quill’s lips quirked in a grin. “Precisely.”

  She already knew—more or less—what her role would be. It wasn’t as if it wasn’t already starkly displayed in front of her like a perverted instruction manual.

  “My guests will be arriving soon. Let’s get you set up. I’m sure you don’t want to be seen from the waist up. You’ve met several of these people before in less compromising settings.”

  She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Master, what exactly is going to happen to me tonight?”

  “Relax. No one will know it’s you. They’ve only seen you in evening gowns. No one will see your face. You’ll lie on the bench with your lower half through the hole in the front panel. Your legs will be spread and your ankles chained. Throughout the night, you’ll be penetrated by those toys. Just the toys. No fingers, no tongues. No one will be allowed to fuck you or cause you pain. Only pleasure. You’ll enjoy yourself. And Marcus will be with you in the booth to make sure you’re okay.”

  “So, you can’t display your paintings for fear of your stock plummeting, but you can have a party like this?” She’d almost slipped and called it an orgy because she felt quite sure it would soon dwindle to that state.

  He sighed. “This isn’t in the public’s face. How many private events of the wealthy do you know the details of?”

  “I...”

  “Exactly. None. And anyway, all invited guests have signed non-disclosure agreements.”

  Of course they had. It was his favorite legal document.

  She wanted to object, but the truth was that a part of her was excited by Quill’s twisted desires and the slight application of force he introduced into the proceedings—never enough to traumatize her, but always enough to thrill. She didn’t want to think too hard about what that said about her.

  His fingertips trailed over her collar, then he tugged on it to gain her attention. He captured her gaze in his when she looked up. “Be a good girl on this for me, and we’ll watch the video in bed together after the party. And then I’ll let you spend the night. You can sleep with me tonight if you’re obedient.”

  Saskia tried to tamp down the eager flutter over what he promised. It was all she’d wanted from the first night spent in the cage. She closed her eyes, imagining his arms wrapped around her, as their bodies entwined beneath the covers—falling asleep together like that.

  “Okay?” he prodded.

  “Yes, Master.”

  He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Good. I’m so pleased with you.”

  Another excited flutter.

  He guided her to the side door on the box and knocked. Marcus opened it, and Quill passed her off to him.

  Marcus pulled her inside and locked the door. Then he placed a chair in front of it.

  “You could wear the dress and just take off the panties, but I prefer you fully nude.”

  And of course, if he preferred it, that would be what she gave him. Her submission to Quill had easily spilled over onto Marcus. His demands were only a sliver less important than her master’s. And he offered the extra bit of kindness that took the edge off Quill’s intensity. No matter how much she craved Quill’s approval, she needed Marcus to balance him out.

  Saskia sat on the bench and unbuckled the strap of her shoe. Her hands began to shake. Marcus pulled the chair up to her and sat, closing his hands over hers.

  Marcus undid her shoes and slid them off. “He’ll have someone outside the box, making sure they follow the rules. It’s just the toys. They’re required to use lube. Imagine it’s me or him. Once it starts, if it’s truly too much for you, I will stop it and talk to him. Okay?”

  Saskia nodded. She pulled the dress over her head, and he helped her scoot down the bench.

  She jumped when someone grabbed her ankle. “It’s only me,” Quill said, from the other side of the panel. He spread her legs and locked her ankles into the cuffs. Then he rubbed her exposed clit until the arousal began. “Good girl,” he whispered from the other side of the curtain. “Just relax. Let yourself enjoy this. We all know how filthy you are.”

  Inside the enclosure, Marcus stood beside her, stroking her hair. He kissed her, prodding her to open to him as his tongue moved inside her mouth. Then he started to fondle her breasts. She became so involved with Marcus’s gentle ministrations that Quill’s voice on the other side of the panel faded into the background even as she heard a larger buzz of noise growing in the main gallery.

  Her eyes widened in shock when a cold, well-lubricated toy was pushed inside her. Whoever it was, hadn’t bothered with something small and innocuous. The person on the other end moved the toy with aching slowness in to the hilt and pulled it out at the same maddening tempo. This was repeated multiple times until her hips began to move and arch toward the source of potential pleasure. Each hard bump of the glass dragged against her inner walls, teasing her, making her wetter with each stroke.

  Her focus shifted from Marcus to what was happening beneath her waist. Whatever fears she’d had evaporated as she began to move with it, trying to take more inside. But she couldn’t control the depth or speed or the strength of the thrust. The stranger was in complete control of every sensation between her legs. And somehow she knew they got off on it.

  A frustrated whimper escaped her throat.

  The person on the other side chuckled. A decidedly masculine sound. Of course it was a male. What woman would participate in this? But maybe one would. Saskia was sure if a woman decided to join in, that she would know it without the aid of a soundtrack.

  “Such a hungry pussy,” the man on the other side said.

  Saskia recognized that voice. Nolan? She thought that was his name. He was a close friend of her master. She’d met him the night of the fund raising event months before all of this had spiraled out of control. He was the one who’d shown interest in her work making reproductions. She felt her face flame at the recognition and tried to stay quiet, paranoid he’d somehow figure out it was her.

  Marcus pulled away to observe her the moment she’d started writhing and whimpering. He lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, “You know him?”

  She nodded, and he smiled. He moved the chair closer and sat, his fingers kneading her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples. She whimpered again, desperately trying not to beg him for mercy. The only thing that made any of this okay was the anonymity she’d been offered. If a single word passed through her lips, it could be compromised.

  On the other side of the panel, Nolan
teased her further. He penetrated her now with lightning quick speed, but he’d taken away the deep full fucking. Instead, he only allowed the fat, bulbous tip a mere inch inside her before swiftly pulling it out and repeating again. Endless teasing stimulation.

  She was so close to begging him, even knowing he might recognize her voice and know whose body he commanded. But mercifully, he spared her the indignation, driving the toy fully into her at a tempo that finally offered sweet release.

  A deep moan rose from her throat as she came. The toy slipped out, and there was silence on the other side. Cool air played over her bare skin. This was the most exposed Saskia had felt since she’d first been strapped in to the installation.

  She heard murmurings nearby but couldn’t pull out any specific words. She wondered how many people stood staring at her swollen cunt and whispering. It was almost better to be used than not to be. At least while being penetrated by one of the toys, she didn’t have to think about anything but sensation. And no one could simply gawk at her spread-open pussy.

  Footsteps approached the installation, and then another lubed dildo plunged into her without warning. The lubricant wasn’t needed, but Quill had ordered it. And he was nothing if not a stickler for rules. By the end of the party when she was sore and wrung out, she’d probably be grateful for anything that allowed the glass to slide more easily in and out of her.

  This time, the person on the other end used two of the toys. One plunged inside her at a steady rhythm, while the other, smaller toy teased her clit.

  She lost track of her orgasms and all the dildos that filled her after a while. Several had been used on her more than once, but she was sure each glass phallus had had its turn at penetration. She doubted there was a single piece that was dry.

  Eventually, she came to realize the lubricant was being kept slightly chilled and that perhaps it wasn’t just meant to keep her wet. Each time a toy slid inside her, she was grateful for the coolness that soothed the heat she’d built. As the strangers played with her, Marcus gently caressed her skin. He ran his hands over every inch of her flesh that was available to him and followed his stroking with a trail of kisses along the contours of her upper body.

  Saskia jumped at a sharp rap on the other side of the door.

  “It’s me,” Quill said.

  Marcus unlocked it, and her master slipped in, locking the door behind him.

  “How is our little slut doing in here?” he asked.

  There was a chuckle on the other side of the panel, as if there could be any question how easily his guests could hear any peep that happened behind it. Saskia was relieved she’d kept her silence.

  Marcus stroked her hair. “She’s being very responsive.”

  “Good.”

  Quill’s erection strained against the fabric of his pants, and she wondered just how many other men outside the box had a similar problem.

  Someone else began to play with her pussy with another toy, while Quill unzipped his pants, his cock springing free.

  More gently than she expected, he gripped the back of Saskia’s head and angled her face toward him.

  “Open for me,” he ordered.

  Her mouth fell open, and he thrust into her. As she sucked, Marcus decided to join in. He stroked her as he had before, but this time with one hand because his other was occupied pumping his own erection.

  A pornographer couldn’t have choreographed the scene better. As Quill’s groans grew louder and more insistent, so did Marcus’s jerking, and so did the guest on the other side fucking her with the toy.

  Saskia’s moan of pleasure was muffled by Quill’s cock in her mouth. He came down her throat as Marcus emptied on her stomach.

  “Make the little bitch swallow,” Nolan said from the other side of the panel.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve trained her well,” Quill answered. They would probably high-five the second he left the booth.

  When he pulled out of her, he bent to kiss her mouth, then zipped up and went back out to the party. The man had no shame.

  “I’m jealous,” Nolan said from the other side.

  Saskia lay on the bench panting, barely able to recover before another cool, greased toy slipped inside her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Quill kept her in the box until every last guest had left the estate, allowing her the mercy of continued anonymity. She was given the further kindness of a robe as Marcus carried her back to the main house.

  Saskia felt emptied of all her psychic contents, both good and bad. The deep pleasant internal ache between her legs matched the sense of calm and stillness inside her brain. She felt like she’d been away for a week on a spa getaway. Or perhaps lobotomized. One of those.

  She hadn’t expected that. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t that. She was starving, though. While she’d been fed a bit before the party, the event had lasted hours.

  Hours of being prodded and stroked. Hours of Marcus with her behind the panel and occasional visits from Quill to satisfy the arousal watching her like that kept creating. She wondered how other men at the party had dealt with that discomfort. Had they wandered off somewhere to masturbate or had they found a willing partner to slip behind a bush in the rose garden with? How would those other women feel knowing they scratched an itch Saskia initiated? Weren’t they being used as well?

  All of them useful objects in the service of the all-powerful male boner—the all-powerful male boner she’d licked and sucked not that long ago with something close to wild abandon. Both Quill and Marcus had fucked her mouth several times during the party while strangers gave her pleasure from behind the panel. It was as if neither man could quite handle not sampling her charms for longer than a half-hour stretch.

  She collapsed, boneless onto the chair pulled out for her in the dining room. Lacy put a couple of plates of food in front of her without comment and went back through the side door to the kitchen.

  Marcus wrapped a hand around the back of Saskia’s neck and pulled her to him to kiss her forehead. “Goodnight, Saskia.”

  “Enjoy your night off,” Quill said.

  “Yes, sir” Marcus said on his way out the door.

  Quill sat across from her, watching as she devoured a giant plate of party leftovers. Such an odd mix of food. Mini quiches, shrimp and cocktail sauce, tiny sandwiches on croissants, fruit tarts, little savory sausages in a tangy sweet sauce. She didn’t care. She was too hungry to care. A second plate was filled with desserts that must have taken hours to craft, which she planned to barrel through in mere minutes.

  Lacy brought her a goblet and a pitcher of water. Saskia was grateful it wasn’t champagne. The way she shoveled food in, something bubbling and alcoholic was the last thing she wanted.

  “Nolan has requested a private session with you,” Quill said, still studying her.

  Saskia’s mindless binge halted. Her gaze darted around the room as if expecting Quill’s friend to pop through the door at any moment like a stripper in a birthday cake.

  “He went home with the others.”

  Saskia pushed the plate away, no longer hungry.

  “Master, no, please. You said none of them would know it was me. Did you tell him?”

  Quill shook his head. “Your secret is still safe. He doesn’t know. I realize how much I’m asking of you. But he’s a good friend, and it would mean a great deal to me if you consented.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  He shrugged. “I promised you anonymity tonight. If that’s to be broken, it’ll be your call. I’m not going to rip it from you. But think about it. Would it be so bad?”

  She did find Nolan attractive. His hawkish features undeniably worked on his face. At their first meeting she’d found him both threatening and appealing in that way that seemed to be the official template for her sexual attraction now.

  “Are you sure he doesn’t know it’s me? He showed interest when he met me at that fund raising event. You seemed kind of territorial. I wouldn’t
think you’d want to share.”

  “I just wanted to establish clearly who you belonged to.”

  “I didn’t belong to you back then.” Saskia was probably inches from a punishment with the casual way her mouth was flying off.

  “Oh, yes, you did. You just didn’t know it yet. And I’m sure he doesn’t know it was you. But at least you know he likes you both above and below the waist. Be flattered.”

  “Can I have time to think about it?”

  “I want an answer by tomorrow morning.”

  “Okay.”

  He raised a brow. She’d clearly hit the end of his patience.

  “Yes, Master,” she corrected.

  He nodded. “Tell me, how many orgasms did you have tonight? I hope you remembered to keep count as I requested.”

  Saskia blanched. She’d lost count within the first hour. “I-I don’t remember.”

  Quill sighed and rose from the table. He moved behind her, his hands pressed against her shoulders as if she might run. “You don’t remember. Well, then, let’s watch the video and count them together. Then you’ll get a cane stripe for each one, since you couldn’t bother to remember.”

  “Y-yes, Master.”

  ***

  Saskia and Quill stood in the hallway outside his closed bedroom door. Despite how long she’d been with him, she’d never seen his bedroom. He’d kept it just out of reach—a carrot on a string which was always pulled away from her at the last moment.

  “Well? Haven’t you been dying to get inside? You’ve practically crawled after me, begging to warm my bed. And now you hesitate? I’m offended.”

  Saskia’s hand shook as she turned the knob and pushed the door open, almost afraid of what she might find behind it.

  Quill’s room looked something like a BDSM pornography set. All it needed was lighting equipment and cameras, and he’d be in business. One entire wall contained hooks with every imaginable whipping implement. A bamboo cane lay across a shelf with a little spotlight on it—as if it were his favorite. Or as if he just wanted to terrify whoever entered the room with the possibilities.