Chapter 40: Decorations

Quickly, I was asleep and dreaming.

I was in a huge mansion, like San Simeon or an English castle, with unabashed opulence. I was in a large sitting room, probably two thousand square feet in an approximate square, with twenty feet high ceilings. Animal heads and art work decorated the mahogany walls. There were heads of wild beasts such as rhino and grizzly. The art was by Van Gogh, Monet and other masters.

The most interesting decorations were the statues, each is a small, partially recessed display in the walls. Michaelangelo’s David was there. So was Venus de Milo, except I knew it was a copy since it was a complete woman with arms. As I watched her beauty I thought I saw her breathe. I walked closer to observe her.

It was a live woman, her skin painted the gray-brown color of stone, her movements perfectly still except for the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed. As I admired her, a man approached with a woman behind him.

“Excuse me, master,” he said. “It is time to change the decoration.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“As you ordered, master, we change the woman each hour so that they will be fresh for your enjoyment. Standing so perfectly still tires them, master.”

“Of course. Proceed.”

The woman was shaky, her muscles tired and unresponsive from holding her pose, as the man helped her down from the pedestal, before assisting the other woman to her position. Immediately, she stood still, frozen for an hour of time as Venus. I wandered down the walls, checking each of the live statues in their display cubicles. Again, the man approached me.

“Master, I am going to change the woman in ‘The Threesome’ statue. Would it please you to watch?” the custodian asked me.

“Certainly.”

It was then I saw the large sculpture occupying the center of the room. It appeared to be cut from one piece of green marble. A carved stone man lay on his back, legs together, arms up with elbows bent and hands open. Another man was kneeling over him, facing his feet. The art work was magnificent with each muscle and sinew of these stereotypical perfect males clearly created by the caring hands of a master sculptor.

Each marble man had an erection, his green marble cock thick and powerful with each vein and fold of stone skin clearly visible. They were circumcised with helmet heads to their substantial members. The one on his back had prodigious equipment, probably ten inches long. The one kneeling was only about five inches but just as thick as the other.

The custodian motioned and a woman appeared. She was naked and beautiful. Her skin had been oiled, making it gleam in the directional lighting focused on the sculpture. She had a soft appearance, with lush thighs and ass. Gracefully, she climbed to the statue. She knelt over the marble cock thrust upward, spread the lips of her pussy and lowered herself onto it. I could tell by her face and the twitching of her leg muscles, she was filled to capacity and the stone cock pleased her.

With the stone cock securely buried in her, she arranged her waist length hair, letting it cascade behind her. She moved her torso so her breasts rested in the open hands of the marble man under her, gingerly pushing her flesh to fill his frozen stone fingers. With a slight tilt of her head, she encompassed the stone cock of the kneeling statue with her mouth, taking him in until her lips touched his pubic bone. She put her hands on the cheeks of his ass as if holding him into her and froze, her movements ceasing as if she was a marble woman herself.

I watched for a few minutes, seeing no movement by her except the gentle sign of her breathing. She was truly a living statue. Even with her stillness, I could see the moisture oozing from her pussy as her body responded naturally to the marble cock in her. Then, a dabble of saliva appeared in the corner of her mouth.

I reached out and touched the soft silky warmness of her skin with one hand and the cold stone of his thigh with the other, feeling the contrasts in texture and warmth. Her muscle twitched as I slid my hand along her thigh to caress her ass. I ran my finger against her sex, loading it with moisture. She quivered when I placed it at her asshole. Her tender back hole spasmed against my finger as it slid into her. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead as she fought to be perfectly still as I moved my digit back and forth, stimulating her. I withdrew before she orgasmed, causing her to moan around the marble cock in her mouth. From no where, a woman appeared, knelt by me and sucked my finger into her mouth. After throughly cleaning me with her tongue, she dried my hand on her hair and disappeared again.

I became aware of the sitting area and turned my attention back to the room.

There were three chairs, placed at the points of a triangle facing each other, with room for people to easily walk between them. The floor between the chairs was covered by a magnificent Persian rug. The chairs were large, overstuffed, with leather upholstery in a deep, dark burgundy, and high backs.

I sat in the empty chair. The devil dog occupied one. The third was the scientist, whom we now called Doc, although he was not a medical doctor. All three of us were immaculately dressed in identical three piece Brooks Brothers suits in a fine gray wool with a very narrow white pinstripe. We wore expensive, leather, wing-tipped, shoes, polished to a high gloss. Our shirts were hand made with English collars and French cuffs. Only our ties were different. Mine was a light purple, the color of an Iris, with small portraits on it. The portraits were heads of women, some clearly presented as in a photograph, others in Picasso-like abstractions. The scientist wore a soft, muted goldenrod with scientific formulas, such as E=mc2, in a black script and jumbled about. The devil dog’s tie was a cherry red, like a fire, with no decorations of any kind.

A beautiful blonde young woman entered with a drink tray, serving us brandy in Waterford crystal goblets.

Black, patent leather, boots covered her feet and ankles. The boots had stiletto heels of probably seven or eight inches, forcing her to walk on tip toes. The boot was laced up the front, over her arch, in the style worn at the turn of the twentieth century. But, these boots had a wide leather strap around the top to hold the laces in place. That strap was locked with a golden padlock. A golden chain approximately a foot long ran from boot to boot, restricting her steps. The extreme height of the heels made her leg and ass muscles tight, displaying them to perfection. That height, and the short steps she was forced to take, made her walk with a very sensual sway.