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The Exposition Of Modified Women free porn video
This story is a pure fantasy, intended for adultsonly. Please do not repost anywhere minors might have access. Be warned thisstory focuses on themes of bondage, sexual slavery, and nonconsensual bodymodification. If such fantasies are not to your taste please read nofurther.
Note to readers: Rather than a story in the usual sense this piece is more acollection of vignettes. The reader sees through the eyes of dominant gentlemanas he tours an exhibition put on by a secret society dedicated to theenslavement and erotic modification of women. I conceived it as a means to getinto type some of the many ideas I've had on this theme, which I realized Ididn't have time to develop into full-fledged, stand-alone tales. The overallpiece has minimal plot, but I've tried to give some depth to the importantcharacters of the individual vignettes and provide some background into how theyarrived at their current situations.
I hope you enjoy your visit to the Exposition of ModifiedWomen, and invite your comments.
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Welcome to theExposition
by Benfan
Mark's head buzzed with anticipation as he walked down the dim stairwaybeneath the huge old warehouse. It had been 5 years since the previous Societyexposition. Great care had to be taken to maintain security, and also it took afew years for many of the participating artists and clinicians to complete someof their more complicated projects.
At the bottom of the stairway he came to a heavy steel door with a smallmirrored window set in it. There was no handle on the door, or buzzer to push. Aguard inside had detected his approach via sensors on the stairway and wasalready scrutinizing him through the bulletproof one-way glass.
"Show your invitation," anelectronically altered voice demanded. Mark pulled the small card from his pocket and held itbefore the glass. The card looked unremarkable, and nothing on it mentioned the nameof the Society, or the nature of its exhibition, or Mark's own identity. But the guard behind the door recognized it and a bolt slid, allowing Mark toenter a small foyer between the outer door and a similar inner portal.
The outer door closed immediately and latched shut, locking Mark in the small,dim, windowless room with the burly, well dressed guard. This gatekeepernow scrutinized Mark's invitation closely, then slid it through a reader mountedto the wall. Tiny lights flashed and the guard invited Mark to place his thumbon a sensor on the device. It beeped, and another bolt clicked. The guardgestured to the inner door.
"You may enter, sir. Welcome...."
Passing through the second portal Mark found himself ona steel walkway halfway up the wall of a cavernous basement. The darkand abandoned outer appearance of the warehouse was deceiving, for here it wasbright and bustling with activity. Looking down he saw the many booths anddisplays of various exhibitors, arranged along a grid laid out in the huge space.A stranger would have wondered how the whole thing could be arranged, but as asupporter of the Society Mark knew the Expo had been set up by a company thatbuilt movie sets on location. They'd been told a film was being shot down here,and would return after the event to clean up again. It was an expensive affair,but as a rule members of the Society were people of means, and Mark expected his$5,000US "invitation" would prove a bargain.
As his eyes scanned the scene before him, Mark spotted the largestdisplays near the rear. They would have to be the Benson gallery, and of coursethe Farrell Clinic's pavilion. In a back corner next to Benson's the open spaceof the livestock paddock was unmistakable, bustling with activity. But among thelanes and avenues of smaller booths his eye was drawn to a large, colorful tent- an exhibitor he couldn't recall seeing before. By the number of peoplegathered before it, whatever was inside seemed to be a popular attraction. Markfound the stairs down from the walkway and decided to make the tent his firststop. At the bottom of the steps, Mark turned to cross an open area about 15'wide between the factory wall and a low fence of horizontal planks thatsurrounded the exhibit booths.
Suddenly, there was a loud "Ho-ahhh!" and a Squeak! Squeak! of rubberon concrete. Mark started and turned, to be confronted by one of the mostphysically imposing female specimens he'd ever seen.
The powerfully-built blonde pony leaned slightly forward with back arched, tobalance the weight of the rider on her back, but even in that posture shematched Mark's 6-foot height. An explosive exhalation from the startledcreature's capacious lungs escaped her gaping mouth and spattered Mark withdroplets of spittle.
"I say, old boy," said her rider, who now wrestled to control his spooked mount.He sat upon a small saddle strapped to her lower back by a wide belt that pinchedher waist, his legs projecting out and forward to keep clear of her high-steppingknees. His hands grasped a curved handlebar, like that of a bicycle,that projected from either side of a short hollow cylinder strapped end-firstinto her mouth. Within the cylinder the pony's red tongue wagged. Now therider used the handlebars to wrench the big, blonde head to the left, to stophis mount's sudden and undesired pirouette to the right. The creature's full,pink-tipped breasts bounced between the straps of her black harness as shedanced jerkily, out of control.
Finally she settled, stamped her feet twice and stood, her broad chestheaving. From cheek to shapely legs (if young oaks can be shapely), every inchof skin not covered by harness or boot shone with the sweat of herexertions.
"You must take more care crossing the track," the rider scolded. He was aneat middle-aged gentleman, moustached and tweed-jacketed. By his accent he'djust flown in from across the Pond. "Blinkered as she is, Violet might havetrampled you, and all of us come to grief."
"Sorry," Mark muttered as he wiped his face with a handkerchief. Looking againat the pony's tack he grasped the meaning of "blinkered:" what he'd taken atfirst glance for a blindfold was really a very low leather visor, that allowedher to see nothing but the ground a step or two before her. Mark's glance fellto her feet, looking for the tall heels that he expected whenever he stoodeye-to-eye with a female. But her shiny leather boots were quite practical:rubber-soled, with round toes and a proper arch. This was no show-pony, but ahigh-performance riding model. Fully erect and unshod, she would have stood afew inches over 6 feet.
The crisis now passed, Violet's rider could not suppress a grin atthe obvious impression his mount had made on Mark. "Right, then," he said,and twisted the grip of his handlebar. The pony bucked slightly as aSnap!Snap!Snap!was heard, and began to accelerate down thetrack. Beneath the saddle Mark glimpsed little blue-white sparks emitted by theelectric "whip" that now caressed her muscular buttocks. As she worked up tospeed and settled into a pace to match the whip's rate, the sparking stopped,and Mark understood how such a large creature had managed to surprise him.
At stride she moved silently, her wide hips swinging to absorb the motionof her legs while her upper body and rider glided along quietly. The hip motionwas much more pronounced than in a typical female, since Violet did not haveany arms to swing. Mark resolved to get a better look at the pony and her tackat the paddock, and thought he might suggest to her master that she be belled,for safety.
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After the pony and rider disappeared around the corner of the"track" which ran around the Expo, Mark turned, passed through an opening in thelow inner barrier and at last entered the Exposition proper. The boothswere arranged along lanes and alleys along which Society members strolled, some in groupstalking and gesturing and others alone. Mark made his way past the booths ofseveral exhibitors he recognized; he noted the location of some that he wouldreturn to, and others whose creations were not to his taste.
Shortly he came upon the colorful, exotic tent he had seen from the elevatedwalkway. It stood out from the more conventional booths and clearly he was notthe only visitor intrigued by it: a small crowd blocked entry to the opening atits front. Strange Eastern music played within, beckoning, but Mark was unableto get a good view over the crowd so he moved to a podium standing next to thedoor that was draped in fabric to match the tent. A touch-screen monitor stoodon the podium, and currently displayed the phrase "Begin Introduction" inseveral languages. He touched "English."
A mildly-accented voice spoke from the machine: "Welcome, and thank you forjoining in a moment of history: the inaugural display in the West of ancientPersian body-shaping arts! The heavenly creature within represents theculmination of centuries spent perfecting the female form. Carefully chosen froma family long known for the fine figures of its women..."
The speaker was a touch bombastic, but Mark learned from the recording andaccompanying images that "the Persian Art of body-shaping" was based on abinding technique that reminded him of what Chan was doing in China. Girls werechosen for their genetic potential, and as soon as they'd reached their fullheight sewn into tight-fitting "bindings" of heavy silk that was specially wovento be nearly inelastic. The soft but extremely strong silk could be left inplace for long periods, and the girl's skin washed and kept healthy withbindings in place by a routine of soaking and sponging. As her body developed,and if she gained weight, the tight bindings prevented the deposit of fat incertain areas and redirected it elsewhere.
"After binding the girl is placed on a special diet that encourages theflowering of her female figure. Like most young women selected for thistreatment, the beauty within was quite proud to be chosen for transformationinto a creature at the apex of femininity. However even she required somespecial encouragement as her dietary requirements evolved."
The screen displayed the same girl again, but nowmore mature, and fleshier. She was strapped face-up to an ornate wooden table,with a small, crank-operated. funnel-topped machine mounted above her face thatappeared to be forcing food into her mouth. Apparently her special diet wasrequired of her, rather than by her.
"Of course, while her body develops the girl is also schooled in all the artsof the harem..."
The voice continued but Mark was distracted by a bustle of activity as several visitorsleft the crowded tent, the music having stopped. Some spoke glowingly of whatthey'd seen, while a tall, thin, spectacled member who Mark recognized as afamous cosmetic surgeon scowled: "Bah! They take years to accomplish what Icould do in an afternoon, with time for nine holes of golf." But there was ahint of envy in his voice.
Moving past the remaining visitors Mark finally caught a glimpse of this "creatureat the apex of femininity," and he was more impressed than the surgeon hadbeen. She knelt docilely upon rose and purple silks on the floor of the tent,the colors coordinated with the silk bands that constricted her body, and thegauzy, gold-fringed veil that concealed her face from cheek to throat. Her spinewas straight but head tipped slightly down, in the classic posture of anOriental slavegirl.
Her hands rested on her thighs....or so Mark assumed, because he couldnot see her hands. They and most of her forearms were hidden behind hermassive breasts. Their swelling began at her collarbones and flowed naturally towhere their heavy bottoms brushed the tops of her thighs. Like giant pears herbreasts rested lightly together, creating a Grand Canyon of cleavage, and theouter sides of the mammaries projected well beyond her frame. There was no sign ofa belly, or "love handles" - her torso was completely hidden by thestupendous glands. The girl's nipples were hidden by engraved golden disks 6"across, from which large and sturdy gold rings dangled inches above herknees.
Finally able to move his gaze from that most remarkable bosom, Mark notedsome of the silk bindings. There were tight bands about 2" wide at the upper armjust below the shoulder, and above and below the elbow. The flesh between wasluxuriously plump but firm-looking, as were the thighs he could see recedingbeneath the breasts. Wider bands pressed deeply into her flesh just above theknees.
A tall bearded man in flowing robes spoke in Persian, and the musicbegan again. With a tinkling of jewelry the girl raised dark almond eyes to meether admirers', and gracefully stretched her braceleted arms behind her. Sheshifted her weight and put one bare foot forward. Now Mark could see the bindingsbelow the knee, and a complex weave of silk about the lower calf. The firm fairflesh between the bands was like an erotic caricature of a curvaceous female leg.The carefully dressed bindings at knee and ankle, elbow and wrist supported theample flesh of her limbs and prevented any sagging. The girl shifted her weightonto the forward leg, and slowly rose. With a fluid arm movement and swaying ofhips, she turned her back to the spectators and began a slow, sinuousdance....
From the rear, behind dark tresses that sprang from agilt-edged cap and cascaded to her waist, the girl's elaborately stitched and heavilyreinforced silk corset was finally revealed. Though strained almost to bursting,the corset restricted the waist of this ultravoluptuous beauty to no more than24". Artfully wound wrappings joined the bottom of the corset to 3" wide bandsaround the tops of her thighs, in such a way that they supported, shaped, andpresented the full twin moons of her drum-tight ass. When she spun gracefully toface him again, Mark saw that the pelvic wrappings and upper-thigh stricturesalso ensured fresh air and easy access for her nether regions (now modestlydraped with airy silk), which on unbound girls of similar weight might have beenlost in rolls of flesh.
How long her show went on, Mark could not be sure. He was hypnotized by thegraceful dance, the swaying and wobbling of her absurd, wonderful curves.
"Now, that is a Big Beautiful Woman," he wondered aloud, eliciting laughterof agreement from his fellow spectators.
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