Audience participation begins

Elanor circled you like a lioness savoring the trembling of her prey.

"You know," she said, tapping her riding crop lazily against her gloved palm, "you’re even more stunning when you obey so nicely."

The golden lasso still pulsed faintly around the base of your cock, tightening gently, keeping you honest — and completely ****.

Elanor stopped before you, her smile slow and wicked.

"Would it turn you on," she purred, "to submit even further? To listen to my every command?"

You didn't even hesitate.

"Yes," you breathed.

The crowd erupted into cheers and shrieks.

Elanor grinned wider, savoring it.

"Good boy."

She twirled her crop once, then tapped it lightly under your chin, tilting your head up.

"Now," she said smoothly, "let’s make you into a masterpiece."

Her voice took on a commanding lilt.

"Hands behind your head."

You obeyed instantly, fingers lacing behind your skull, elbows flaring wide — exposing your chest, your stomach, your throbbing cock completely to the hungry, applauding audience.

The heat of hundreds of gazes burned across your bare skin.

Gasps and teasing cries filled the air:

"Look at those muscles!"

"God, he’s gorgeous."

Talia stepped closer, smiling up at you like you were the most precious thing she'd ever seen.

"You look so good like this," she whispered, running a hand lightly down your chest. "So perfect. So ready."

You whimpered softly under her touch, your cock twitching.

Elanor let you stand there, letting the audience drink you in.

Then she tapped your thigh sharply with her crop.

"Now hands behind your back again," she said, voice firm.

You obeyed, locking your wrists behind you, standing straight and proud — more open, more **** than ever.

The crowd moaned as one.

"He looks like he's begging!"

"He's leaking so much!"

You flushed even harder, body trembling with need.

Talia leaned in, her lips brushing your ear.

"You’re doing so well, sweetheart," she whispered. "Wouldn’t it feel even better... if you touched yourself for us?"

Your breath hitched.

Elanor turned to the audience.

"What do we think, ladies?" she called.

The answer was immediate:

"Jerk! Jerk! Jerk!"

The chant filled the room, a tidal wave of lust crashing over you.

Elanor laughed richly, enjoying your squirming.

"You heard them," she said, voice syrupy sweet. "Permission granted."

Talia’s eyes gleamed with heat as she added, "Please, handsome. Show us."

Shaking, trembling, you reached forward, wrapping your hand around your own aching, leaking cock.

The women screamed — shrieks and clapping and hoots filling the room.

You began to stroke — slow at first, shy — but the energy, the lust swirling around you was too much.

Your hips bucked slightly.

You moaned softly, humiliated and so fucking turned on, as your hand slid up and down your shaft in full view of hundreds of watching, hungry women.

Talia stepped closer, fingers ghosting along your side.

"You look so beautiful like this," she murmured. "So eager. So ****."

You whimpered, pumping faster now, lost in the haze of humiliation and pleasure.

But the crowd wasn’t satisfied.

Not yet.

"Let us touch!"

"We want a turn!"

"He’s too perfect not to share!"

Elanor smiled — a slow, devilish thing.

She turned to you, voice mockingly innocent:

"Would it turn you on," she asked, "to let the audience... participate?"

The lasso tightened slightly around your cock, making you gasp.

"Y-Yes," you whispered, the word ripped from your throat.

"Good boy," Elanor said, voice dripping satisfaction.

With a sharp flick of her wand, your hands flew back behind your back — bound invisibly, leaving you helpless, your cock jerking slightly in the open air.

The audience roared.

Elanor strode to a velvet-draped table at the side of the stage and lifted a gleaming black dildo from its pedestal.

She held it up high for all to see — a perfect, but disappointingly generic, toy.

"Of course," she said with mock disappointment, "this doesn't quite do our skeptic justice."

The crowd giggled and booed playfully.

Elanor winked. She took the lasso off, her hand lightly grazing your cock as she did so. "I don't think we need this anymore. He has submitted to us fully"

"However... I think this lasso has quite well understood you" she said, tying the lasso around the dildo.

With a shimmer of magic, the dildo morphed — lengthening, thickening, veins rising along its shaft.

When it settled, it was a perfect replica of your cock.

The crowd gasped and cheered wildly.

Elanor grinned proudly, holding it out like a trophy.

"And just to make things interesting," she said, voice full of glee, "our skeptic here will feel everything done to his twin."

You stared, wide-eyed, heart hammering.

Talia giggled, clapping her hands in delight.

"I'll start," she said sweetly, taking the clone from Elanor’s hands.

She dropped to her knees — not in front of you, but before your clone — her lips parting slightly, her breath hot against the toy.

She ran her fingertips slowly up the shaft — and you felt it, like ghostly hands tracing your real cock.

You moaned, knees buckling slightly.

The crowd went insane.

Talia licked a slow, languid stripe up the toy — and you nearly collapsed.

Every stroke, every flick of her tongue, every kiss — you felt it all, magnified by the heat of hundreds of women's hungry stares.

You were helpless.

You were ****.

You were burning.

And then — to your wide-eyed horror and **** arousal — Talia stood, smiling wide, and turned to the crowd.

She passed your clone down, into the first eager hands.

The woman — a busty blonde in a tight red dress — grinned devilishly as she began to slowly stroke the toy.

You felt it — every inch, every squeeze, every teasing touch.