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He guided Saskia to the far end of the gallery where temporary walls had been erected in her absence.
So the day at the park had just been to get her out of the gallery for whatever this was?
“You’re going to be part of an interactive installation tonight. You’ll come more times than you can count, though I expect you to count your orgasms for me anyway.”
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.
