Victoria gets used for Performance Art [Exhibitionist, BDSM]

It was a simple gig, and as an actress I needed anything to build up my portfolio. A couple grand for a day’s work was also more than appreciated. The biggest issue with performance art is the boredom, and today was no exception. Well that and being chained to the wall.

Being metal the chains were surprisingly comfortable, Aleaonze had taken care to sculpt them to my wrists and ankles. And unlike real bindings they didn’t lock.

The piece was a take on the chains of consumer culture. Alternating with me was a supposed businessman in a fine grey suit, the ball on his chain a briefcase. I was the vapid influencer. The cuffs were made to look like fine jewelry, my makeup over done and dressed like I was thirsty for everyone’s attention.

All a bit on the nose and a bit sexist, but I’m no saint. I’ll play my part if the price is right.

The red dress was troublesome. The top had a diagonal slash that showed the top of my left breast, all of the valley and the bottom of my right one. The bottom was the classic too-short-for-daytime clubbing skirt. If I was on a night out this would have been fun.

But this wasn’t a night out. This was a day in a well lit exhibition hall chained to the wall. Whenever I shifted I could feel the top threaten to set my nipples free. The bottom was it’s own nightmare. With my feet a little more than shoulder width apart, every movement caused the red fabric to slide up.

The instructions were simple. Four hours on the wall in total, done in two shifts. No talking and absolutely nothing that would break the immersion. A whole shpeal about how our mentality was part of the art; the degradation of our costumes over the time was an intended part of the show.

And that anything out of character would be considered breach of contract, and we’d be liable for covering the rental fee for the room in the museum.

I got the picture; my dress wasn’t intended to stay on. Nudity was expected in the art space, and if some stuffy nosed elites wanted to get off looking at my tits while lying to themselves as being cultured, who was I to turn down their money? Like I said, I’m no saint.

That’s how I felt when I signed, but being chained to a wall has a way of changing your perspectives.

The first guests were pretty quiet, but the way their eyes lingered gave me the chills. I’m used to ogling, but when there’s no way to break away it was on another level. In the shivering I felt my skirt slip up. One of them pointed and I instinctively looked down, but there was no way of knowing if my black thong was showing. I flushed.

It wasn’t all embarrassment, I felt the familiar moisture down below, like morning dew gently saturating my insides. My hips pressed outward seeking something to press against, causing my dress to ride up more.

Fuck.

They left, but it was only moments before my day got so much worse. A field trip?! Seriously? The teenagers came in groups of three or four. They didn’t care about the art to begin with, and as soon as the boys saw a girl chained up that I knew there would be no escape.

It wasn’t long before I didn’t have to wonder about my thong showing.

“Look! The wall chick’s panties are showing!”

“Wonder what kind of slut agrees to do this.”

One of the boys on the side reached over the boundary rope and poked me. I writhed away but said nothing. At that he leaned in and groped my left boob.

Probably his first, and it set the first nipple free.

“Look! Her tit! Hahaha.”

“I’ll bet they’re not even paying her.”

“Yeah, surprised she’s even wearing panties.”

“Dare you to pull them down.”

The hell?! I could see their tented pants, and their vision locked between my legs. And yet.. I was flustered. So much warmth, and with no release in sight. My head was all mixed up, and combined with my financial fears I stayed frozen.

Two of the boys played lookout, and when the room was clear a third dove under the rope. I wormed away as best I could, but all I succeeded in was elongating the task. Instead of the quick tug planned, his hands both went up my skirt to grip and yank. It caused the dress to bunch up below my navel. My thong got as far as my knees, unable to go further due to my spread legs.

In short, my snatch was on full display. The boys provided inspiring commentary on my engorged labia and personal lubrication.

“This slut is wet! WAP wap wap!” They had their phones out and snapped pictures. One got down on his knees to get a better angle.

Wish he would come closer. Although whether it would be to kick him or get eaten out, I’m not sure. I bit my lip. I couldn’t take much more of this. The embarrassment, the desire. It was too much. I needed out and I needed filling.

And then it was my turn to take a break. The suit guy was here, he took his spot on the wall and I let myself out. I yanked up my thong and resituated my dress.

“Wait, you weren’t trapped?! You chose to let us do that? You really are a dirty fucking slut.”

I grabbed the boy’s wrist who said it. “You’re in for it.” His heart sank and the other boys got cowardly really fast. I dragged him to our designated changing space.

“Look, we were just -” I shoved him to the ground.

“My turn now.” I unzipped him and his dick happily jumped out. “Look at you, all wet for it already.” I grabbed his slippery pink cock. Straddling him, I pulled my thong to the side. “What a slut.”

The tip brushed against my wet slit when he busted his nut. White jizz shot all over my vagina. “And still a virgin, what a shame.” He was gasping for breath. “And did you just wet yourself?”

“..Wha..?”

I relieved myself. Two hours on the wall meant the trickle came easily. I spread myself to direct the flow on his jeans. Fuck did that feel good, both in relief and in asserting dominance.

The boy scrambled away and I let him run, laughing and rolling out of the way. “Send your friends in, maybe they’re real men.” He left.

I reached for the closest cylindrical object, my hairbrush. That would have to do. I rammed in up inside me and fuck did that do the trick. The sloppy sounds were sending me to heaven.

I didn’t expect anyone to come back, but all three boys did. “See! I told you!” I thought about stopping.

Naa.

They locked the door behind them. “Well get on with it!” I pulled my hairbrush out. “Who’s first? You? Want to take a dip in my sauna?” I circled my clit, and with a free hand reached up and squeezed his junk through his pants.

By the third squeeze I felt it – the pulsing from him unloading his gun in his pants. I cackled.

The last boy, he was determined to show his friends up. He took his pants and briefs off. I spread my legs wide like a dutiful slut. It took him a couple stabs, but he found the sweet spot. My flower parted easily for him.

And he started fucking me.

It felt fucking great. I leaned back and let him have at it, it was nice to let someone else do the work. The boy I humiliated found his bravery and whipped it back out.

“Suck it, whore.” So I did. He was salty from my pee, but it wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever had in my mouth.

Eventually the fucking got too physical for the sucking, so I focused back on the rod between my legs. I came then, and it was glorious.

The cock I was sucking was then rammed back into my mouth, but I refused to do any more work. Instead he jacked it, and I watched as he came on my cheek. It was a small load compared to the earlier geyser.

“That’s not where cum goes, silly. That’s twice now, you’re really bad at this!” I scooped it off with my fingers, and thrust them back between my legs. “Cream goes in the gutter.”

His friends laughed at him. Having had their fun they left. Checking the time, I realized I had about an hour until my next shift. I could clean myself up, but what was the point?

Reeking of sex, I put my thong back in place over my well used vagina. Then I went back out.

The kids had all left and the museum felt empty. Fucking great. Our chained gentleman looked uncomfortable, but still well attired. His eyes looked at me, confused.

“I’ll bet you have questions, but they will have to wait.” He furrowed his brow. “Hey, do you like tits?” I leaned forward. That’s the excitement I wanted between his legs.

“You do! What about ass?” I spun around, and bent over. My dress popped over my backside. “Oops, I should..” I reached back and slid a finger up my second entrance. “Mm.” I straightened out as someone entered the room. When they left I resumed my torture.

Fuck power felt good.

I snuck over the barrier and pantsed him. He was furious, but obviously happy to see me. I stepped back.

I continued my show, keeping him aroused between visitors. They were much more interested in this version. Fair is fair.

The second his time was up, he grabbed me. “I’m going to ream that cute little ass of yours.”

“I’m sure you will, in two more hours.” I cackled at his frustration as I resumed my two hour vow of silence.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/k01o22/victoria_gets_used_for_performance_art