Catherine Van Noord and her husband spent thirty minutes groping, using and violating my naked body, although it seemed much more like thirty hours. By the time they were done with me, I felt utterly used up, limp, submissive and emotionally exhausted.
Mrs. Van Noord had vigorously raped my ass with an oversized PVC cock, making my anus feel chafed and abused. Shortly after she pulled the massive thing out of my tight anal fissure, there was a knock on the door, and Mr. Van Noord opened it, allowing a female servant to come into the study.
"The auction is almost over," the servant explained, "They'll be wanting Scott on stage for the closing ceremony."
"Very well," Mrs. Van Noord conceded, "I suppose you'd better escort him back out there, so his adoring public can see him one last time."
I had been sexually abused and emotionally exhausted and the female servant ended up helping me to stand up from where I'd been bent over Mr. Van Noord's desk.
"Come with me, pretty boy," the servant said as she led me out of the room.
She may have been a household servant, however, I felt instantly inferior to her. She wore a smart-looking uniform with a starched white shirt and a black skirt, meanwhile I was stark naked, my buttocks throbbed and felt as if they might still be red from my recent spanking.
While I was worried about what people would think if they saw my reddened buttocks, it completely slipped my mind that my cock was still hard and erect. And when I was rushed on stage to stand side-by-side with my fellow dancers, my cock throbbed and twitched.
Of course, all my fellow dancers, had lean, athletic, perfect bodies, and they were now all naked, including Christine, Lena, Morgan and Svetlana. Seeing their naked breasts, shaved pudenda and firm buttocks, bathed in the blazing, white-hot illumination of spotlights made certain that I had no hope of making my cock go soft again.
Scores of well-dressed spectators ogled my male nudity as I stood on stage, together with the other unclothed dancers. We all received a round of applause for the sacrifice we had made in stripping naked for the clothing auction. We bowed and received even more applause. The audience didn't want us to ever leave the stage, however, the auction was over, and eventually they had to let us go.
. . . . .
The artistic director and ballet mistress were both impressed by how much money we raised from the clothing auction. They were especially impressed with me. In addition to the money that had been raised from the clothes sold off my back, Catherine Van Noord wrote an additional check to the Chandler Ballet Theatre for ten-thousand dollars, explaining that they were "very happy" with what I did for them that night.
No mention was made of the way Catherine Van Noord raped me with an enormous fake cock that evening, just that cryptic message about how happy I had made her.
"Of course we need the goodwill of wealthy patrons like Catherine Van Noord," the artistic director informed me, "In the future, if there's anything else you can do to make her happy, I hope you throw yourself into it without hesitation. I'd be personally very grateful if you keep us on her good side."
That made me nervous, but I had been swept up into the politics of performance artists and their patrons. Without wealthy patrons, performance artists quite often starved. Keeping Catherine Van Noord happy made good economic sense.
And of course, it wasn't long before Catherine Van Noord requested that I do something else to make her happy.
. . . . .
"Scott, Would you like to come over to Catherine's house this Saturday?" Darya asked me one morning as we walked to rehearsals together.
I hesitated before I answered. I was nervous, but it was a dark, thrilling, sexual sort of nervousness.
"Is she planning to exhibit my naked body in front of dozens of strangers?" I asked.
"Not this time," Darya replied, "I think she was hoping that this time you would have sex with her husband. She is big fan of watching when two boyishly handsome men have sex."
"She wants me to have sex with Milo?" I whispered, "Seriously?"
"Some women get very turned on from watching men have gay sex," Darya replied, "And both you and Milo are the type of men she likes, young, slender, smooth, athletic and graceful."
"Well, Milo isn't my type," I said as made my way to the rehearsal room, "I'll pass."
"Will you?" Darya asked, "Would you still say that if I told you that getting naked with Milo and letting Catherine watch would count as the sixth of my twelve tests?"
I swallowed and considered Darya's question.
Nari and I were both the same age, we both danced for the same ballet theatre, and Nari was the first man I'd ever had sex with. In a way, I thought of Nari as being my boyfriend. And the idea of having sex with Milo made me feel like I was being disloyal.
Of course, on the other hand, if I did this for Darya, I'd be halfway to my goal of passing all of Darya's tests, and I'd win the prize of her love and affection.
"I'll have sex with Milo," I grudgingly conceded, "Where and when?"
. . . . .
I was to meet Milo and his wife at their home in Augustus Beach on Saturday morning at 8:00 am. The last time I had been at their home, I had been with Darya and a plethora of dancers from our dance theatre. This time I arrived alone, and something about that made me feel far more vulnerable and exposed.
A maid with a Russian accent (or possibly Ukrainian, I'm not very good with accents) answered the door, and inquired as to my business.
"My name is Scott Alexander," I said, "I was invited by Milo and Katherine."
