They can see your face, be careful

Many of my fantasies involve a scenario where the subject’s face is visible to the public, to a group of people, to a single person in a face-to-face conversation while simultaneously being forced to cum.  Potentially more than once, but that’s advanced.

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One of my favorite fantasies in this vein:  You are convinced by a sexy, young artist to help her out with an upcoming exhibit.  You find out when you arrive that she actually plans to use you in one of the art pieces, a living piece, a performing art piece.

She takes you downstairs and has you stand on a platform in a room below the gallery, your head reaching up to the ceiling, through the ceiling into the darkness between the floors.  Lights are cut to pitch blackness while at the same time you feel something form firmly around your neck.  You put your hands up, but they stop. Your head is separated from the rest of your body by what feels like…..the floor.  oh god.

Lights flash on blinding you.  As your eyes adjust  you see your head is poking through the floor into a large glass sphere in the center of the gallery floor – your head is the exhibit.  Just your head behind round glass.

The glass distorts your view so that all you see is blurry images of people all around you, viewing your head.  When they lean in to take a closer look their face comes into exaggerated focus and all of a sudden you can see them too clearly, too close.

The glass distorts their view too, so that even from far away your face behind the glass is magnified – high-def.  Your eyes are huge and clear, your face shows every detail, every twitch.

They can see your face.  Your face is the actual show, the only piece in the latest show of the most promising new artist and they don’t know why.  You hear them wonder, walk around you watching you closely, waiting.

Meanwhile, downstairs, your body is standing, trembling, electric.  You’re the first one to understand what this performance art piece is all about- this gorgeous, delicious artist is beginning to handle you, to mold you, to play you.  This promising new artist is molesting you.  She’s pulling your clothes off, she knows exactly what she’s doing.  Her routine is completely planned out.  This isn’t some bullshit art – she’s a professional.  She’s methodical, deliberate, beautifully edited.

It’s a two hour show and you see, you feel, the flow of figures coming through the lighted doorway and gather around you.  You endure so much during these two hours.  You try to keep your composure, you try to breath, you try to meditate, you give up and start to laugh hilariously, then pant like a dog.  Then you get in the zone and assume you look hideous as the faces come one at a time really close to look you in your eyes while you twitch and gasp.

And all the while you can clearly hear everyone around you discussing what they think your head is all about, trying to guess what your head in a glass case is trying to express, while a rush of wet mouth, warm hands, and whoknowswhat is lathering you to the point where you just yell out in exasperation:  “I’m cumming”.  You say it over and over as you pour two hours worth of white rope into the artist’s hands.  She pulls it out, helps you, winding your rope hand over hand almost.  You can feel in her touch she is pleased with your participation.


I can imagine a million scenarios where you are watched while secretly being seduced.  It’s so hard to stay focused, to not let on that you’re losing your shit.  Cumming mid-sentence.  Eyes wide and glossy.

This poor boy is forced to cum while giving a speech.  Watch out – this may happen to you.

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