Elena woke inside the mirror maze still dreaming of infinite selves, every reflection a memory of last night's endless angles. The master bed had become a prism: sheets twisted into prisms of dried cum and paint, bodies scattered like light refractions. Alexander lay on his back, one arm flung over his eyes, chest rising slowly. Victoria curled on her side, dark hair spilling across Elena's stomach like spilt ink. Julian slept half off the mattress, one hand resting on Elena's ankle possessive even unconscious. The ceiling mirror showed them all from above: four bodies braided, skin marked in overlapping claims, the room itself a gallery of their ruin.
She slipped free, careful, blindfold long discarded, but darkness lingering behind her eyelids. Padded barefoot to the en-suite. The mirrors here had multiplied overnight too, angled so no corner escaped view. She stood in the centre, turned slowly. Infinite Elenas stared back: pussy lips puffy and red, ass marked with faint handprints, breasts dotted in bite constellations, a streak of paint across one hip like a comet tail. She touched herself reverently, fingers tracing the damage, pressing bruises until pleasure-pain bloomed fresh. A soft moan escaped. She watched herself do it a thousand times, heat coiling low again.
Shower ran steaming, water cascading over marks like liquid forgiveness. She scrubbed gently, watching paint and cum swirl away in watercolour rivers. Left a single handprint of dried release on her lower belly deliberate, rubbed it in like a seal. Mark of the morning.
Uniform today felt ceremonial: black dress replaced by a velvet robe Victoria had left folded on the counter, deep midnight blue, belt loose enough to slip with one tug. Nothing beneath. She tied it carelessly, fabric whispering over nipples already peaked. In the pocket, she found a thick cream envelope sealed with crimson wax (V pressed deep). Inside, heavy card stock:
You are cordially invited
to surrender completely
Tonight. Eight o'clock.
The Gallery.
Dress code: skin and trust.
Bring nothing but yourself.
— V, A, J
Her pulse kicked hard. She pressed the card to her lips, tasted wax and promise.
Coffee brewed strong in the kitchen, pastries arranged artistically, fruit glistening. She plated four, carried the tray to the bedroom. Set it on the dresser, then knelt at the foot of the bed, robe parting to bare breasts and thighs, invitation clutched in both hands.
Alexander woke first, eyes opening to the sight. Sat up slowly, sheet pooling at his waist. "What's this?"
She held the card up without rising. "Delivery for you, sir."
He took it, read, and smiled, his expression slow and dangerous. Victoria stirred next, read over his shoulder, and laughed low and delighted. Julian last, blushing crimson but eyes dark with want.
Victoria crooked a finger. "Come here, darling."
Elena crawled onto the bed, robe falling open completely. They fed her bites from fingers, licked juice from her chin, and shared coffee in slow kisses. Hands everywhere gentle, reverent. No rush. Just tasting the day ahead.
Morning chores became foreplay. Elena dusted the library on her knees, robe slipping off her shoulders, invitation tucked into the belt like a bookmark. Alexander watched from his chair, stroking lazily through linen pants. When she bent to reach a low shelf, he knelt behind her, entered slowly, fucked her gently while she polished leather spines. Came deep with a quiet groan against her neck.
Victoria found her in the gallery next, arranging fresh canvases. Pulled her into the centre mirror, kissed her slowly, fingers tracing the invitation's wax seal still warm in her pocket. "Tonight we unveil you," she whispered. Fingered Elena to a shuddering climax against the glass, licking her clean while reflections watched.
Julian in the server room: coded with her riding reverse cowgirl, robe discarded, invitation laid on the keyboard like a cursor. He read it between thrusts, whispered yes, yes, yes against her spine, came hands-free inside her.
Lunch on the terrace: light, teasing, fingers and tongues only. They kept her on edge, denying full release. Fed her champagne from a crystal, licked droplets from her nipples. The invitation sat on the centre table like a fifth guest.
Afternoon drifted. Elena bathed in the infinity tub, rose petals floating, mirrors fogged. They watched from the doorway, stroking themselves slowly. No touching. Just eyes.
Seven-thirty. She stood in the gallery alone, robe pooled at her feet. Skin bare, gooseflesh rising in the cool air. Canvases had been rearranged into a circle, spotlights trained on a velvet chaise centre stage. Mirrors angled to catch every inch. Hidden cameras, red lights blinking softly.
Eight o'clock sharp. They entered together: Alexander in tailored black, no tie, shirt open at the throat. Victoria in a crimson gown slit to the hip, diamonds flashing. Julian in simple black slacks and a white shirt, sleeves rolled, nervous energy crackling.
Victoria held up a new blindfold (black velvet this time). "Trust us?"
Elena nodded, throat tight. They blindfolded her gently, led her to the chaise. Laid her back, arms stretched above, wrists bound to hidden rings with silk rope. Ankles spread wide, secured. Body displayed, heart hammering.
Music started low, something slow and pulsing. Hands began: six at once, oil warm and scented. Alexander's strong palms on her breasts, kneading slowly. Victoria's elegant fingers are tracing her ribs, circling her navel. Julian's shy touch on her thighs, parting folds gently.
They oiled her everywhere, slick and shining. Mouths followed: Alexander sucking bruises into her neck, Victoria latching onto a nipple, biting gently, Julian's tongue finally on her clit, tentative then bold. She arched, moaned into the blindfold.
Alexander entered her first, slow and deep, cock stretching perfectly. Victoria straddled her face, pussy dripping onto her tongue. Julian fed his cock to her bound hand, let her stroke.
They rotated endlessly: Victoria strapped on a Victoria strap-on in her pussy while Alexander took her ass, Julian in her mouth. Then Julian in her pussy for the first time fully, shy thrusts turning sure while parents watched proudly. Positions fluid, bodies sliding in oil and sweat.
Confessions spilt with every climax: Alexander's fantasy of claiming her publicly at the next gala, Victoria's plan to exhibit tonight's footage anonymously, Julian's quiet plea to bring his online partner home. Love poured out raw and true.
Hours blurred. Orgasms are endless, squirting arcs caught by spotlights, oil and cum mixing into a glossy sheen. She lost count, lost time, lost everything but them.
Near dawn, they untied her gently, wrapped her in the velvet robe now soaked and ruined. Carried her to the master bed, mirrors dimmed. Curled around her protective, kisses soft on her temples and wrists.
Victoria whispered against her ear, "The invitation was only the beginning."
Sleep came deep, velvet and absolute.
The gallery had unveiled more than skin. It had been unveiled forever.