The Dinner Party - The O'Connell Chronicles

Special note to my friends in the Writer's Block: Thank you for your help in editing this story. For fear of missing someone I will leave names, addresses and phone numbers out of my thanks. Also, I promise that my late night calls to you all will taper off a little bit. Know that, without your helpful comments, this story would have been much longer in seein ghte light of day. Also, your keen insight helped me see certain errors common in my writing. Finally, I thank you all for giving me someone to blame if this story is received poorly.

 

Previous Jerry O'Connell stories:

The Object of His Affection

One Man's Art: - The O'Connell Chronicles

 

The Dinner Party - The O'Connell Chronicles

 

Chapter 1

The members of the Croquet and Lawn Bowling Club arrived at the mansion at precisely six o'clock in the evening dressed in formal evening attire. Greeting them in the main foyer was Francis Héber de Gaulle and a tall studious man who was introduced as "Jerry".

"Friends," Francis began, as the last of his guests entered the foyer, "it is my pleasure to welcome you into my home. I do hope you find this night as enjoyable as I believe you will. As usual, dinner will be followed by the evening's entertainment. But, before all that, I've some artwork I think you will all find rather pleasing. So, if you will, follow me into my study."

As the group entered the study, each was properly impressed. Antique rugs graced all four walls, as did masterful paintings. Rich reds, offset by intricate patters, populated the thick carpeting on the room's floor. Six heavy wooden chairs, padded in red velvet, and two matching sofas were among the simpler comforts the room had to offer. These were the least stunning of his decorations.

"These are amazingly realistic," a voice commented.

"I've a friend who is the director of a facility that creates these masterpieces," he told them. "I have another piece in the works, as a matter of fact."

His guests milled around first one piece and then another, mumbling to their comrades.

A tall woman in her mid-fifties stood over a marble statue depicting a nymph pleasuring two satyrs. Smiling, she bent down to better appreciate the lifelike appearance of the statue. A whisper of approval brought the nymphs eyes open, sending chills down the woman's spine.

"No!" she exclaimed. "Francis! She cannot be real!

Francis laughed as he strode towards the older woman. "As you can see, one satyr has his cock in her mouth and the other in her ass. I won't go into all the plumbing, but there is a small machine that pumps food into her and another that cleans her out. You have noticed, I am sure, that her skin is not her own. It has, in fact, been covered with a permanent synthetic material. I won't go into details about it now, but you will learn of its nature later."

"How is this possible?" she asked. "Can she move?"

"Alas, I like to think she is frozen in time, Beatrice," Francis explained. "Hopeless of all things, save my appreciative gaze. A nymph, forever in the service of monsters."

"I must have one," she said, a hopeful look on her face.

"Perhaps that can be arranged," Francis said, a broad grin of satisfaction crossing his face.

"What about this, is it real, too?" asked a tall, dark haired man.

"Ah, this one...my most recent piece," Francis said, looking to the focus of the man's attention. "I had to have that adjusted somewhat. The spider webbing originally fed into her fingers, but that proved to be a bit problematic. It feeds into the back of her hands now. I'm rather partial to the change: It allows her fingers to move."

Reaching out, the man stroked the girl's leg, prompting her from her state of slumber. Her steel gray eyes blinked open, taking in the rare sight of strangers.

"It is quite beautiful," the man said.

"Thank you. I wanted her to appear much like a painting," Francis told him. "My initial thought was of Fay Ray in the clutches of King Kong. I settled on an image from an old pulp fiction fantasy novel I read as a young man. My memory fails to recall the name of the book, but the image of a nearly naked girl trapped in a huge spider web was rather well imprinted."

"Please, help me," whispered the girl, suddenly hopeful for freedom.

A chuckle of sadistic satisfaction rose from the crowd. They watched, entranced, as the naked girl swayed within her web of metal, fingers reaching out in a desperate attempt for help.

"Monstrous!" Beatrice hissed. "What sadistic pleasures you must find in this hideous beauty."

"More than I can express," Francis related. "There have been many nights when I have taken my seat across from her, enjoying her exquisite suffering, while Desk brought me to satisfaction."

"Who or what is Desk?" Beatrice asked.

"Over there," Francis said, pointing.
.
Residing in shadows, and appearing to be made from a solid piece of oak, was a well-crafted desk. Hewn of thick timbers, it stood in quiet contrast to the rest of the room's decadent furnishings. From beneath the desk's top piece could be seen the vague outline of a woman's lower half. Appearing to be a decorative carving, her bottom jutted out from the desk and her legs spread wide, seamlessly disappearing into the heavy desk.

"I thought she was a carving," Mia whispered, amazed by the workmanship.

"She has relative freedom until locked into place," Francis told the small crowd. "When not in use for my sexual pleasures or cleaning, she is there. When unattended she has a pump attached to her posterior opening to clean out her wastes. Everything is handled through a synthetic colon, even her urinary functions."

"I assume that her upper half is useful when she is ensconced by the desk?" Eric chuckled.

"Please, feel free to look," Francis told him.

One by one Francis' guests made their path to the other side of the desk to admire its most impressive attributes.

"She must be a bit distracting when you are trying to work," chuckled Frank, a tall gray haired man. "And I imagine her tits get in the way a bit, too."

"It can be a bit trying, I'll admit. Truly, it is not terribly practical. To be frank, if I may," Francis said, smiling, "her position is merely to fulfill a fantasy of mine."

"It appears you have modified the girl quite severely," the older woman said. "How is she secured in place?"

"Ah, yes. She is, in fact, a Christ-like figure," Francis said. "Her hands and feet have small holes through them. Titanium tubing fills the holes so they remain open and useful. She is held steady through steel pins that feed through the holes in her hands and feet. Her breasts have been greatly enlarged and are, in fact, still growing thanks to an implant her creator calls 'silly string'. Her lips have been shaped and enlarged, her teeth have been replaced with a synthetic material and her skin, save for her head and breasts, has been permanently covered with the same synthetic material as my statue."

"You said she has duties other than being a desk," Beatrice said. "That indicates that you trust her to be free in the house. That seems a bit risky, if you ask me."

"Her mind is not what it once was. In fact, she has little recollection of the girl she was," Francis told her. "Her only want in life is to be a pleasure toy. She has actually stated that she envies the other pieces I have here - wishes she were one of them."

"Interesting", the woman said.

"Ah, this is quite lovely as well," Roger said.

"That is my coat rack," Francis informed the man. "She has been coated in the same synthetic skin as Desk and Statue, though her modifications are a bit different."

"I assume her wastes are handled through the same means as your statue?" asked Roger.

"The post running between her legs is for just that," Francis said. "That and to aid in keeping her steady. Also, her rib cage has been re-enforced to support the coat hooks that jut out from her breasts. You may note, if you touch her breasts, that they are quite solid. This was, unfortunately, a must for her design."

"Fascinating," Beatrice said, a sadistic smile playing on her lips.

"Well, I think it's time for the party to get started," Francis exclaimed. "So, if there are no objections, I will free Desk from her place and have her get to her duties. Please, the dining room is down the hall and to the left."

Over dinner, Francis' guests spoke in grandly complementary words about his living furnishings. So fascinated and curious was his company, as to how they could acquire such things, that they barely noticed the man who had been so briefly introduced upon their arrival.

"It seems that you are all in agreement," Francis announced. "You all want what I have and you all want to know how it is done. Well, I have news that I think you will all find quite exciting. The man responsible for these creations is here."

Their immediate attention filled the room with sudden silence. Anticipatory, each guest awaited the words that were to follow.

"He has been made fully aware of the status of each individual here," Francis continued. "He knows your base interests and the truth about the activities of the Croquet and Lawn Bowling Club. However, as careful a man as he is, he wished to observe each of you before allowing me to compromise his profession."

Francis paused for a moment, enjoying the sudden tension. He cast his eyes from one guest to another, enjoying their wide-eyed attention. Finally, Beatrice rose from her seat, her eyes burning into Francis.

"Damn it, man! You're going to give us all heart attacks, you sadistic bastard. Bring him in so we can meet him!" she exclaimed, smiling.

"But he is here already, Beatrice," Francis said, an amused smile playing upon his lips. "Friends, let me re-introduce to you the director of the Chimera Foundation, Jerry O'Connell."

All eyes turned towards the man sitting nearest to Francis. Smiling slightly, he raised his hand to his mouth and cleared his throat.

"It's been awhile since I have been away from my facility for a night like this," he began. "I admit to having a very enjoyable time. Your company and adoration of my works has been quite enjoyable. Were I a more easily influenced man my head would be swelled beyond the ridiculous. Francis?"

"Thank you, Jerry," Francis said, regaining the attention of his guests. "Now, let's retire to my study. I have an amusement planned; one I am sure you will all enjoy."