The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Morgan liked the museum when it was quiet. It wasn’t quiet today.

The entrance hall was crowded and there were screaming kids everywhere. That would be their life soon, but not yet.

She held the door for Janet as they stepped inside.

“Still busy,” Janet said.

“It’s New York,” Morgan replied, resigned.

Janet slipped her arm through Morgan’s as they climbed the steps. Morgan rested her free hand on Janet’s pregnant belly without thinking. Seven months.

“You okay?” Morgan asked.

Janet smiled and reached up attempting to ruffle through her wife’s fauxhawk. “You’ve asked me six times.”

“Seven. You waddled on the stairs to the subway.”

“I did not waddle.”

Morgan grinned, looking down at her wife. “You absolutely waddled.”

Janet swatted her arm, still smiling.

They’d come here for years. They even met here.

They were standing in front of an armor suit, arguing about if it was Italian or German. Morgan said German. Janet said Italian. They went back and forth for ten minutes before either of them bothered to read the placard. It was Swiss.

Janet insisted the placard was wrong. They got coffee to continue the argument, and somehow the argument turned into a date.

“Where do you want to start?” Janet asked.

Morgan shrugged. “Let’s just wander.”

Escaping the cacophony, they turned down one of the quieter corridors, their footsteps echoing softly off the marble. Halfway down a side hall they nearly walked straight into a museum attendant coming the other way.

“Good afternoon,” he said, his eyes intent on them now that he noticed them. He looked at Janet’s belly. “Expecting?”

“September,” Janet said. “First one.”

“How wonderful.” He studied them a moment longer, something unreadable going on behind his eyes. “You two visit here often, don’t you?”

“Pretty regularly,” Morgan nodded.

“Well then you’re exactly the sort of people I like to help,” he said. He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice just a bit. “There’s a new installation opening soon in one of the private exhibit rooms. It won’t be open to the public for a while yet.”

“Oh?” Janet raised an eyebrow.

The man grinned.

“But by the time it opens,” he said, glancing again at her stomach, “I imagine you’ll both be rather busy.”

Janet laughed softly. “Fair guess!”

“I thought so!” he continued pleasantly. “If you’d like to see it now, before things get hectic, I could make a small exception.”

Morgan glanced at Janet. Janet shrugged.

“Well,” Morgan said, smiling. “We do like seeing everything the museum has to offer.”

“Excellent,” the man said. “My name is Ethan.”

Ethan led them through a series of quiet hallways. The crowds faded away almost immediately. The sounds of the museum softened until only their footsteps echoed along the marble.

“Not many people back here,” Janet said.

“There usually isn’t much except storage,” Ethan replied. “This will be a test of the space.”

They ed through a narrow doorway that Morgan was certain would have blended seamlessly into the wall when closed. Ethan opened it with a small key and stepped aside.

Morgan held the door for Janet.

The moment they stepped inside, Morgan froze.

At the far end of the room a woman was doing a handstand on a museum display pedestal. Her mouth was wrapped around what looked like a long dildo, red hair in damp strands and soaked with sweat, spit, and something else. Beyond the t-shirt bunched up at her chin, her bra, and her sneakers she was completely naked. Behind her, and standing upright on the same waist-height pillar, a man was simultaneously fisting her cunt, fucking her ass, and ramming her whole body up and down on the dildo.

“Fuuuck,” the man grunted, then pulled his cock out of the woman’s ass and sprayed cum down her front, covering her t-shirt and chest. There was a wet gurgle from the woman and then the man yanked his fist out of her pussy and her legs fell forward whipping around as she popped off of the fake cock with a slurping noise. She collapsed to the floor in a weak heap, coughing and laughing at the same time.

Across the room, a different woman was gripping another pedestal with both hands, her head thrown back as a bearded man thrust into her from behind. A moment later he stiffened, groaning loudly, his hips jerking while she shuddered beneath him.

“Now,” Ethan said with a smile. “That is what I call art!”

“Well,” Janet said finally, folding her arms loosely over her stomach. “That’s certainly contemporary.”

Ethan smiled.

“Yes. We like to challenge our patrons.”

Morgan scratched the back of her neck thoughtfully.

“I mean,” she said slowly. “It does look interactive.”

Ethan’s smile widened slightly.

“That is the intention,” he said. “Look around! Soak in the works! But before you leave, be sure to contribute some art of your own.”

Across the room the man who had just finished stepped back and wiped his forehead. The redheaded woman was still lying on the floor in a puddle of what Morgan was fairly sure was her own urine.

The room matched the scene in the centre: wall upon wall of artistic filth from corner to corner. The wives wandered the exhibit like they had done so many others over the years.

“Look at that one,” Morgan pointed to a life-sized wax tableau of a cheerful suburban family eating dinner. Under the table all four of them were engaged in an elaborate tangle of sex acts while maintaining polite dinner conversation.

“God, that’s so hot,” Janet cooed as she cuddled into Morgan’s shoulder and casually tweaked a nipple through her top.

As they made their way back to the front of the gallery, Morgan noted that the two other couples were sitting on a padded bench off to the side of the room. There was a hidden door open showing a dark office beyond. It looked like Ethan was inside. They wandered over.

“That was really impressive work,” Morgan said to the little red head, whose face was still a sloppy wreck, and who still did not have pants on, but seemed content curled under the arm of the man she was performing with.

“Thank you,” the woman replied in a hoarse voice. “Agony is the price of creation.”

“That’s right babe,” the man said as he kissed her messy forehead. “I’m Miles by the way, this is Emily, and those are our new friends Samantha and David.”

As Morgan and Janet were introducing themselves, Ethan burst out of the office carrying what seemed to be a newly printed poster sized image. He must have had a pretty impressive printer back there because the photograph on the sheet looked glossy and pristine in full color, like it had come from a professional poster shop.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!” Samantha cooed.

The image was a perfect still of Emily and Miles: him fucking her with his cock and his fist as she choked upside down on the silicone cock. For amateur art, Morgan thought it rivaled some of the other pieces in the room. Beside her, Janet started to frown.

“Holy shit,” Emily exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. “I’m art!”

Ethan said he was going to mount it officially as part of the exhibition.

“Hon, we’ll never be able to do something on that level,” Janet said. “Look at me, I’m a big whale. I could never keep up with something that intense.”

“Shut up, you are not a whale,” Morgan replied. “You know what we said about negative self-talk during the pregnancy.“

“All art is different,” David said from the side. “Don’t let yourselves be boxed in by what those two sex acrobats over there did. Find something that suits your own strengths.

“Maybe you’re right,” Janet said. “It’s just the opportunity to contribute something to a real art exhibit at The MET is something I don’t want to screw up.”

“The last piece was all about form and physicality,” Morgan said. “Maybe we can do something mental? I know your mind works overtime.”

“Maybe. Fuck hun, I just need a place to sit down.”

At that moment Ethan came back out of the office with a chair for Janet, almost as if he predicted she’d need one. He set it down right next to where she was standing. It was a modest grey plastic chair that probably wasn’t especially comfortable, but Morgan could see on Janet’s face that it was a life saver. In the centre of the chair was stuck a bulbus, 10-inch “Bad Dragon” dildo. Fully slicked with industrial lube.

Janet lifted her pregnancy dress, pulled down her panties, and slowly lowered herself onto the dildo letting the giant dragon cock penetrate her asshole. The next two minutes were silent in the room as everyone watched her struggle to get the mammoth neon toy all the way down to the hilt in her rectum. Morgan didn’t think she’d actually had anything back there before (thank goodness she had an enema this morning for pregnancy related stuff), so it was a surprise when Janet fully put her weight down and went all the way with a grunt.

“Ahhh, I needed that,” Janet cooed. Morgan was unsure if she was talking about the massive toy in her ass or sitting after standing for so long. Maybe both?

Janet leaned back in the chair and pulled up her dress even further, giving them all a view of not only the dildo distenting her anus, but her hairy, soaking cunt that was dripping on the chair and gaping just a little bit from the pressure through the thin membrane wall to her ass. Her giant belly pressed above.

“You like that slut?” Janet said in a low voice. The voice that she used when their nights in bed got especially intense. “You like Mommy’s hairy cunt? Well you can’t have it.”

It was clear that Janet had something in mind for a performance and Morgan was already turned on. If they couldn’t outdo the acrobatics, they’d make an impact with art another way.

“What does this slut have to do to have Mommy’s hairy cunt?” Morgan said in a horse whisper.

“Strip for Mommy,” Janet commanded. “Slowly. Let them all see as you do it.”

A thrill of energy went through Morgan. Whatever Janet had planned for their art was hot already. Morgan turned toward the other four patrons and slowly gripped her belt and yanked it off. Then made a show of lifting her Henley up past the abs she was so proud of.

“Look at her,” Janet called out. “Look at my livestock. She’s a specimen. Ripe for breeding.”

Janet never talked to her like that. Never objectified her like that. It sent a thrill down her spine and right into her pussy. She continued pulling the shirt up over her chest and her head.

“Look at those shoulders. Look at those arms,” Janet continued. “Built like a fucking bull dyke and she’s about to get broken in.”

Morgan unclasped her bra, exposing the small A-cup tits on her muscled chest. Her two ringed piercings glittered under the gallery lights. She slowly shimmied out of her 501s, kicking off her shoes and socks. They saw all of her from her gelled up fauxhawk to her barely kept hairy pussy.

“Kneel,” Janet called, and Morgan turned and kneeled in front of her wife. “Open for Mommy.”

Morgan had a moment of confusion before she understood what Janet wanted, then opened her mouth wide. Janet dragged a thick rattle from her throat as the only warning before she hawked a huge spit in Morgan’s face. Most of it went in Morgan’s mouth, but some of it sprayed up her nose and onto her chin.

“Swallow.” She did.

Janet smiled at her with a wicked grin that was very much unlike her.

“Good bull. That’s the last thing from a woman’s mouth you’re going to be tasting for a while,” she began. “You’ve spent your whole life bragging about never touching cock, and today you’re going to gag on two of them while I watch.”

This was a sore point in their relationship. It had been since they’d started dating. They were both full-on gay. Not bi, not poly, or whatever. Lesbians. But Janet had experimented before she knew for sure. Had been with a few guys. She said she needed to know. Morgan had always chided her and said she had always known. Took pride in never needing to be with a guy to know she only wanted to be with women. With Janet.

“Say it back to me.”

“I’ve spent my whole life bragging about never touching cock, and today I’m going to gag on two of them while you watch,” Morgan said quietly.

The thought of doing it was not especially appealing to her. But the thought of Janet making her do it already had her thighs slick.

“You’re a cock-virgin dyke and you’re going to get ruined today,” Janet said. “Say it back to me.”

Morgan realized then that Ethan had produced a professional looking video camera and was capturing the entire scene. Good. This was art for posterity.

“I’m a cock-virgin dyke and I’m going to get ruined today,” she said. She looked up at Ethan and his camera and repeated again, “I’m a cock-virgin dyke and I’m going to get ruined today!”

Janet reached down and smeared her hand with juices from her wet open cunt, then smeared Morgan’s face with them before jamming fingers in her mouth.

“ that taste … because the next thing on your lips is going to be David’s cock. Now crawl over there like a dog and beg for that dick.”

Morgan crawled on the ground and saw that David was already rock hard again watching the scene unfold.

“Don’t ease into it,” Janet commanded from her chair as she rocked her ass on the dragon dildo. “Grab her by the back of the head and fuck her face.”

Before Morgan was ready, she felt David’s fingers pressing on the back of her head as he pulled her forward onto his dick. The first cock past her lips immediately went past her tonsils as well as she started gagging. She heard a sound like rumbling thunder and realized it was coming from her throat as thick ropes of spit and mucus erupted from her mouth. The sensation was unspeakable, unpleasant, and the fact that Janet was making her do it was the hottest thing she’d ever felt.

Even as the cock pounded her mouth, Morgan tried to keep her eyes locked on Janet. Her wife was grinding on the dildo more actively now and idly fingering her cunt. David broke her view as he rammed as deep as he could and held her face in his crotch. Mucus and fluid erupted around his cock and out through her nose. Tears ran down her face, mixing in with the rest of the mess.

“You can’t even take one little cock down your throat without crying?” Janet chided. “I thought gold-star dykes were supposed to be tough.”

Then, to David, “pull that cock out and slap some constitution into her with it.”

Suddenly her airway was open once again and the burst of air into her lungs sent her into a heaving hunch, liquids dripping onto the ruined gallery carpet beneath her. The moment ended quickly as fingers gripped her hair and pulled her head upright.

THWACK!

David’s cock smacked into the side of her face leaving a mark of precum dripping above her eye.

THWACK! Click!

The cock struck again on the other side. Morgan realized that Samantha was standing over David’s shoulder, an expensive looking digital still camera in her hand. A huge OLED screen flashed light behind her and Morgan saw the pictures projected there showing a close-up of her face, lips swollen, spit-glazed, tear-streaked. She looked over at Janet who was looking directly at her, fingers moving furiously across her clit.

“Come back here to Mommy, dyke,” Janet commanded. “I want you on all fours in front of me.”

Morgan crawled on the floor back toward Janet, slower now, but still as intent. She looked up, past the dildo in Janet’s ass, past the sopping cunt, past the pregnant belly displaying the life they would share together and up to her face, eyes intent with command and cruelty.

“Now in just a second David is going to fuck you with the first cock that will ever touch that dyke pussy of yours,” Janet said. “But first I want you to spread yourself for the room and beg to be fucked.”

Morgan sucked in a raspy gasp of air. This was for real now. But Janet was telling her to do it. And she knew in her gut that she needed to do what Janet said. Morgan reached under herself and spread herself to the room.

Click! Click! Click! Click!

From the side of her eye Morgan could see Ethan and Samantha moving around capturing the moment. Morgan kept her view locked on Janet.

“Look at that cunt, soaking for cock. Some gold star,” Janet said, looking over at the screen. “Now David.”

Hands gripped her hips and something long and hard rammed into her, David’s dick, she realized. Hetero virgin no more. She kept her eyes locked on Janet. Janet kept her eyes locked on Morgan.

“How does that feel? How do you like your first dick in that dyke pussy?”

David started thrusting harder, more violently, and Morgan’s head dipped down as she grunted. The sensation was overwhelming. Something wrenched her face back up. She realized it was Janet’s foot, still encased in the practical maternity flats her wife had never taken off, pressing her chin up.

“I said, how does that feel dyke?” Janet said intensely. “Tell the room how much you love it.”

“I, ah, ah, love cock in my, ah, my, dyke pussy!” Morgan got out between thrusts. Her head dipped again.

“Tell him to cum inside you,” Janet said, and Morgan’s eyes snapped up to meet her wife’s. Janet knew Morgan wasn’t on birth control. “Tell him you want his load in your lesbian cunt.”

“I, ah, oh, I want your load in my lesbian cunt!”

With that, David slammed into her to the hilt. A warm rush filled her and she could feel a viscous liquid burbling out and dripping down her legs. David pulled out of her and backed away. Morgan fell forward, her face laying on Janet’s shoe, her dripping and cum filled cunt on display to the room.

Click! Click! Click! Click!

“Scoop out that cum. Eat it.”

Morgan reached under herself and stuck two fingers in, hooking a pool of ooze into her palm. Lifting herself up with her other hand, she fed the salty dick snot into her mouth.

Click! Click! Click! Click!

On the display screen she saw herself framed close up: cum on her tongue, dripping down her fingers, and behind her Janet like a queen, imperious, cunt open, belly bountiful.

Without knowing it her cummy hand was rubbing her pussy.

“Did I say you could cum from your own hand?” Janet said, lifting Morgan’s chin once again with her shoe. “No dyke, you cum on cocks or not at all.”

Morgan dropped her hand off of her clit.

“Miles, come over here. This bull isn’t quite broken and we need to make sure she is.”

Over sitting leaning against one of the pillars, Miles had Emily tucked under his arm. He whispered something in her ear, and she turned to him and said something quietly back. Morgan thought it was “You have to do it. It’s for art!”

As Emily said that, he stood and walked over to them, his mostly hard cock casually dripping cum on the carpet.

Janet directed him to angle Morgan slightly to the side so the wives could still see each other while Miles stood in front of Morgan’s face. As Miles was about to feed his now fully erect member to her mouth. Janet flagged them to stop.

“Not yet, she’s had this punishment before,” Janet paused. “David, get behind her.”

Morgan kept her eyes on Janet, but she could feel David’s hands on her hips again, and the head of his cock rubbing up and down on her pussy.

“Miles, David was much too gentle to her mouth before. I want to hear her choking on that cock. I want to see that carpet ruined.”

Suddenly David was thrusting into her again, using his own cum as lube. Miles grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her mouth onto his cock. There was no warmup. No easing in. Both men hit bottom at the same time and the sound that came out of her was something between a scream and a gag, then muffled into a wet, choking gurgle around the shaft stuffing her throat.

“That’s better,” Janet said from her throne. She was grinding her hips on the dragon dildo, one hand stroking her clit while the other rested on the swell of her belly. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Miles set a punishing rhythm immediately. He fucked Morgan’s face like he was trying to rearrange her throat, each thrust driving deep enough that her nose mashed into his pelvis and her eyes bulged. Ropes of spit erupted from around the seal of her lips, splattering down her chin and chest and pooling on the carpet beneath her. Her muscular arms shook with the effort of staying on all fours as David matched the pace from behind.

“Look at that,” Janet said, loud enough for the room. “My big tough bull dyke, stuffed full of cock from both ends. Bet you wish your queer friends could see you now.”

Morgan couldn’t respond. Her mouth was full, and the sounds coming from her throat were only somewhat human. Wet, rattling chokes punctuated by desperate nasal gasps when Miles pulled back far enough for her to catch her breath.

“But you love it, don’t you.” Janet continued, leaning forward, her voice dropping to a low she only used when they were together in the bedroom. “You love being Mommy’s straight little fucktoy.”

Between gags, Morgan nodded. It was the only answer that was conceivable to her to give.

Ethan had stopped circling. He’d found an angle and was filming a slow tracking show that started at Morgan’s tear-streaked face and Miles’s cock jammed into her mouth, travelled along her muscled back where sweat was beading in pools, and ended at the junction where David was slamming into her cunt, his cock glistening with her juices and his own seed.

Click! Click! Click! Click!

Samantha was on the floor, almost flat on her stomach, shooting upward to get the underside of the spit roast. Morgan spared a glance at the big screen where the pictures were being displayed in real-time. Her small tits, captured in motion, silver rings at the end a blur with strings of drool stringing off of them. Her abs tensed, both cocks visible working her from opposite ends.

“Pull out of her mouth,” Janet commanded.

Miles yanked back and Morgan’s throat opened with a retching gasp. A cascade of spit and thick mucus poured from her mouth onto the carpet in a heavy, single rope. She coughed, her whole body convulsing with it, and tried to suck in air, but her lungs were still catching up, and David was still fucking her from behind.

“Spit it out,” Janet said. “All that cum and slime on your tongue and on the carpet. Gather it up and pool it on your tits.”

Morgan gathered what was left in her mouth and let it drip into her palm, then reached down and scooped the mess on the carpet in with it. It was a foul cocktail of precum, spit, and mucus. She pulled herself upright and let it drip out of her hand in a long dirty string down to her chest, splattering across her tits and catching the rings of her nipple piercings.

Click! Click! Click! Click!

“Now hold,” Janet said. “Both of you, give her face what it deserves.”

David pulled out of her cunt and moved around to stand beside Miles. Both men gripped their slick cocks and began slapping them across Morgan’s face in tandem.

From the left, David’s cock smacked her cheek leaving a streak of her own juices mixed with his cum. From the right, Miles caught the other side, the wet crack of cockhead on skin echoing in the gallery. They alternated, each impact rocking her head slightly while she knelt there and took it, her hands hanging limp at her sides, her mouth open and slack.

Ethan stepped in closer and got a tight shot of her face that was projected on the screen. It was demolished. Swollen lips, strings of fluid connecting her chin to her chest, tears drying in tracks through the mess, snot smeared above her lip, and now pink marks blooming on both cheeks from the repeated slaps. Her body was muscular and strong and completely conquered. Her eyes were half-lidded but still locked on Janet. Always on Janet.

Janet looked at the image on the screen and smiled.

“Good,” she said. “Now we’re getting somewhere.

“Come here,” Janet said. Not to the men. To Morgan.

Morgan crawled. Her knees were raw on the carpet and her arms trembled with each movement forward, but she crawled, because Janet told her to. She crawled until she was between Janet’s spread thighs, close enough to feel the heat coming off her wife’s swollen cunt, close enough to smell it.

She reached for it.

“No,” Janet said, and caught Morgan’s wrist. “You haven’t earned that yet.”

Morgan made a sound. Not quite a word. Something animal and needy from deep in her chest.

Janet smiled down at her. Then she lifted her hips slightly off the chair, shifting her weight forward so that the neon base of the Bad Dragon dildo was visible where it met the stretched rim of her asshole. The skin around it was taut and pink, pulled obscenely wide around the ridged silicone.

“Kiss it,” Janet said.

Morgan leaned in and pressed her lips to the place where her wife’s body met the toy. She could feel the heat of Janet’s skin and the pliant coolness of the silicone at the same time.

“I said kiss it. Not peck it. Get your tongue in there.”

Morgan opened her mouth and licked. She worked her tongue along the stretched rim, tasting lube and sweat and the deeper taste of Janet’s ass, tracing the impossible junction where flesh gripped silicone. Janet’s hand found the back of her head and ground her face in deeper, until Morgan’s nose was pressed into the cleft of her wife’s ass and her tongue was working blindly, desperately, around the base of the dildo.

“Mmm,” Janet hummed, rolling her hips. “Good bull. You eat ass like you were born for it.” She held Morgan there for a long moment, grinding against her mouth, before pushing her away by the forehead.

Morgan rocked back on her heels, gasping. Her face was slick from nose to chin with spit and lube and the taste of Janet’s ass was thick in her mouth.

“Now,” Janet said, looking past Morgan to where the men stood waiting. “You can get fucked.”

She gave directions like a foreman on a job site. David on his back on the carpet (she didn’t care if the carpet was ruined with every fluid the human body could produce, that was his problem). Morgan on top, facing Janet so she could see everything. Miles behind.

“David first. Get that cock back in her cunt so she’s nice and warmed up for the hard part.”

David lay down and Morgan straddled him, reaching under herself to guide his dick inside. She sank down with a groan. She was so loose and sloppy from the earlier fucking that he slid in without any resistance at all. The squelch it made was obscene. She could feel what was left of his earlier load still inside her, churned to warm slime around his shaft.

“Ride him,” Janet said. “Slowly. I want to see your face while you take it.”

Morgan rolled her hips. Her eyes locked on Janet. Janet’s fingers were moving across her clit again in lazy circles, her pregnant belly rising and falling with her breathing. The huge dragon dildo shifted slightly inside her every time she moved.

“Miles,” Janet said, without looking away from Morgan. “Get up behind her. Use whatever’s leaking out of her cunt for lube. I want you in her ass.”

Morgan felt Miles’s hands grip her hips from behind. She felt the blunt head of his cock press against her asshole. It was hot and slippery, smeared with something wet that she knew was the cum dripping from her own fucked-out pussy. He pushed. Her sphincter resisted for one second, two, and then he was through and the sensation of being filled in both holes at once hit her like a truck.

“Fuck … ahhhh …”

“Shut up,” Janet said calmly. “You don’t get to talk. You get to take it.”

Both men began to move. David thrust upward from below, his hands gripping Morgan’s thighs, while Miles drove forward from behind, one hand on her shoulder. They found a rhythm where one pushed in as the other pulled back, so Morgan was never empty, always full of one cock or the other or both at once. She could feel them through the thin wall inside her, grinding against each other with only that membrane between them.

Her body responded despite everything. Her nipples were stiff, the piercings catching the gallery light. Her abs flexed with every thrust, muscles cording under the skin.

“Look at you,” Janet breathed. “All that muscle. All that strength. And you can’t do a single fucking thing except sit there and get stuffed.”

The men were getting close. Morgan could feel it. David’s thrusts getting shorter and more erratic beneath her, Miles’s fingers digging harder into her hips as his rhythm started to break.

Janet leaned forward as far as her belly would allow. Her face was flushed. Her fingers were moving faster on her clit.

“When they cum …” Janet said, and her voice was thick now, less performative, “... you cum with them. You cum on their cocks like a good little straight dyke. Do you understand me?”

Morgan nodded, tears running fresh down her face.

“Say it.”

“I’ll, ah, I’ll cum on their cocks …”

“Like a what?”

“Like a good, fuuck, like a good like straight dyke, uh”

“That’s my bull.”

David came first. Morgan felt his cock jerk inside her cunt and the sudden heat of his load flooding her for the second time. His hips stuttered upward, pressing as deep as he could get, and he groaned through clenched teeth.

Miles was right behind. He buried himself to the hilt in Morgan’s ass and held there, his whole body going rigid as he pumped into her.

“Now,” Janet said.

And Morgan came.

Not because her body had been building toward it, though it had. Not because the sensation of two cocks pulsing inside her at the same time was overwhelming, though it was. She came because Janet told her to. Because Janet’s voice was the only thing in the room that mattered, the only sound that cut through the wet noise and the grunting and the shutter clicks, and when that voice said now, her body answered.

It ripped through her. Her back arched, her hands clawed at David’s chest beneath her, and her cunt and ass clenched down on both cocks at once. She squeezed so hard that David yelped and Miles swore behind her. Her legs shook. A spray of fluid burst from around David’s shaft and splattered his stomach, mixing with the cum already leaking from where they were ed. The orgasm wasn’t quick. It rolled through her in waves, each one making her whole body seize and release, seize and release, while the men held still inside her and waited for it to .

Through all of it she kept her eyes on Janet.

Janet held her gaze and came too, quietly, almost privately. It was a shudder that ran through her thighs and made her grip the arms of the chair, her cunt clenching visibly, the dragon dildo shifting in her ass as everything tightened around it. She didn’t moan. She just exhaled, long and slow, and watched her wife shake apart on two cocks that didn’t matter, for an audience that didn’t matter, in a room full of art that didn’t matter.

Janet’s eyes said it all. Only Morgan mattered. Only this.

Both men pulled out.

The sound was heinous and signaled a wet and sucking double evacuation that left Morgan gaping and dripping from both holes. Cum ran down her thighs immediately, pooling on David’s stomach beneath her. She rolled off of him gracelessly and landed on her side on the carpet, chest heaving, legs twitching with aftershocks. Between her legs was a mess that would have looked clinical if it weren’t so depraved. Her cunt and asshole both swollen and open, strings of cum connecting them, more of it oozing out with every breath she took.

Click! Click! Click! Click!

Samantha captured the aftermath from beside her. Morgan’s destroyed holes. The cum dripping in a long trail on the carpet. The shot appeared on the OLED screen a moment later, enormous and unavoidable.

Morgan barely looked at it. She was staring across the floor at Janet’s feet, still in those sensible maternity flats, waiting to be told what came next.

“Come here,” Janet said.

Morgan crawled. The last few feet felt like the longest distance in the room, though it was barely three body lengths across the ruined carpet. Her knees left wet tracks behind her. A string of cum hung from between her legs and broke against the floor as she dragged herself forward.

Janet spread her legs wider on the chair. Her cunt was even more of a mess than before. The soaked, hairy, puffy lips were parted, red, slightly gaping from both the earlier stimulation and the pressure of the massive dildo still buried in her ass. She was flushed from sternum to thighs and the smell of her filled the space between them, thick and sharp and real.

“Come get what you earned,” Janet said.

Morgan buried her face in her wife’s cunt.

Her tongue found Janet’s clit immediately, because she knew this body better than anything on earth, and she licked with the kind of focus that nothing in the last hour had broken.

Janet’s hand weaved into Morgan’s hair, the gel that held the fauxhawk melted by sweat, spit, mucus, and cum. Her other hand pressed against the swell of her belly. She pulled Morgan’s face in tighter, grinding against her mouth, her hips rocking on the chair. The dragon dildo shifted in her ass with each movement and the dual sensation made her thighs clamp around Morgan’s ears.

“Fuck,” Janet breathed.

Morgan worked her. Lips around her clit, sucking gently, then tongue flat and wide across the whole of her, then back to the clit with focused pressure. She knew the rhythm. And she poured all the degradation, all the submission, all the cock she’d choked on, and funneled it through her mouth to Janet as devotion.

Janet came hard.

Her back arched off the chair and her cunt clenched against Morgan’s mouth and a gush of wet heat flooded Morgan’s already destroyed face. The dragon dildo shifted as everything inside Janet tightened around it, the neon base popping partially out of her ass with a thick, wet sound before her body pulled it back in. She came a second time almost immediately, a rolling aftershock that made her legs shake and her grip on Morgan’s hair go white-knuckled.

She was loud. Not the controlled, cruel director from before, but a wife cumming on her partner’s tongue, gasping and swearing and grinding until the waves finally slowed and her thighs released.

Morgan didn’t pull away. She stayed there, mouth resting against Janet’s cunt, breathing her in. Her eyes were closed. The room could have been empty for all she cared.

Janet’s grip in her hair softened. Her fingers loosened, then began to move gently, stroking, scratching Morgan’s scalp the way she did on Sunday mornings when they were tangled on the couch. She leaned down as far as her belly would let her, her lips brushing Morgan’s ear.

“Good bull,” she whispered.

A tremor ran through Morgan’s body. Not violent like the ones before. Soft. A slow, rolling clench that started deep in her core and radiated outward through her thighs, her stomach, her chest. Her breath hitched once against Janet’s skin. Her fingers curled against the floor. It ed through her and left her completely still, her face resting against Janet’s thigh, eyes closed, the faintest smile pulling at her swollen lips.

Janet’s hand stayed in her hair.

Neither of them moved for a while after that.

Ethan lowered the camera.

The room was quiet except for the mechanical whirr of the fountain in the middle of the room.

Ethan looked at the footage on the camera’s small screen, then looked up at Janet with something close to reverence.

“That’s not going on a wall,” he said. “That’s getting its own room.”

Janet laughed, loose and tired. “Make sure you get my good side for the poster.”

“I don’t think you had a bad side,” Ethan replied, and disappeared into his office.

Morgan finally stirred. She lifted her head from Janet’s thigh just enough to look up at her wife’s face. Janet looked down.

“We were good,” Morgan said. Her voice was still raw.

“We were fucking incredible,” Janet corrected.

Morgan put her head back down. Janet’s fingers resumed their slow circles on her scalp.

Emily got up quietly and came back a moment later with a bottle of water that she must have found in Ethan’s office. She handed it to Janet without a word. Janet took a sip, then tilted Morgan’s chin up and held the bottle to her lips. Morgan drank. Water spilled down her chin and mixed with everything already there and neither of them wiped it away.

Ethan emerged from his office carrying two freshly printed posters, one from each performance. He began mounting them on the wall beside the other works without a word, humming to himself as he worked.

Morgan watched him hang theirs. The image was Morgan between the two men, mid-DP, her muscular back arched, her face turned toward the camera with tears and spit and cum streaking her cheeks — and beyond her, slightly soft in the background, Janet on her throne, belly and cunt and command, watching it all unfold.

“Not bad,” Janet murmured, mostly to herself.

Morgan, eyes still half-closed against her thigh, smiled again.

The main door opened.

Not one of Ethan’s hidden doors. The actual entrance.

Ethan’s head snapped toward it. He obviously hadn’t gone looking for this couple, he’d been here the whole time. They had found their way here on their own.

A man and a woman stepped inside with the unhurried ease of people entering any other gallery. He was older: silver-haired and well-dressed. She was smaller, sharp-featured, with dark eyes that were already cataloguing the room before her second step.

They took in the scene. The cum-soaked carpet. The naked and half-dressed couples. The obscene art floor to ceiling. The fountain. The cameras. The two freshly mounted posters of amateur pornography on the gallery wall. They absorbed all of it with the mild interest of museum goers arriving at an art exhibit they weren’t planning on visiting and had just stumbled upon.

The man tilted his head at the poster of Emily and Miles. The woman was already looking at Ethan.

Ethan quickly masked his surprise and stepped forward to greet them.