The Lust Experience – A Recollection of Anointment

Below is a Recollection–this is not a review, but rather a full spoiler walkthrough of the author’s experience in The Lust Experience’s Midseason Event, Anointment. As Anointment will never occur again, spoilers should not be a major concern. Further, this is only one path of many that were available during The Lust Experience’s Anointment. It was highly personalized to the participant, and thus, many paths and many choices were available. 

 

 

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A Change in Plans

A well-dressed man waits in a parking lot, a duffle bag by his feet. I instantly recognize him as Morgan, the man who resurrected a resistance against the OSDM. In last year’s The Tension Experience, the OSDM mined our reactions, our emotions, and our data in an effort to control world politics. We were invited here tonight to see behind the curtain of the OSDM; however, the event we were invited to would have been a façade—a clever marketed ploy to show their best side. But Morgan has other plans. He has arranged for us to enter the real OSDM party, and to see the truth behind their actions. We are taught what is needed to blend in, and instructed to report back anything we uncover to him.

This is not your driver, this is not your van.

No hoods this time. It already feels different.

 

 

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A Place to be Free

I exit the van in front of a large studio building and line up against the wall. When it is my turn to enter, the driver pounds on the door three times and opens it. I step into a dimly lit club, music wafting slowly over low hanging fog. Pink and purple hues highlight various corners, while other areas are left purposely in darkness—hiding the men, women, and contraband within. There is a bar to the left, with numerous patrons engaged in conversations at standing tables, and a stage to the right, where the music is emanating from. I look closer and see gorgeous ornate chandeliers hanging precariously above carnal walls covered in graffiti. The whole place screams, “we are the affluent, we are the rich. And here, we indulge in whatever we want.”

A sharply dressed man in a masquerade mask adorned by peacock feathers approaches with a woman. The woman is friendly, but the man holds her a little too tightly for my liking. They welcome me—an obvious first-timer—and invite me to enjoy the music.

Sun lights up the daytime, moon lights up the night. I light up when you call my name, and you know I’m gonna treat you right.

A blonde in a red dress stands upon the stage, crooning beautiful yet melancholy melodies. My mind flashes back to The Tension Experience. Sabrina? The empowered Overseer, the damsel in distress, the heart of Tension. Is that her? No. No, it’s not. But probably someone just like Sabrina, when she was Addison Barrow.

 

 

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I am the last guest in, and I can see other participants seated upon various couches. I take a seat on an empty one near the back. A tall black woman with a bald head stands over a guest in the front, the back of her dress so deep that it reveals the top of her rear. An attractive man with long hair and an unbuttoned shirt sits on the arm of another couch, leaned over, whispering in the ear of two girls.

It doesn’t take long for a gorgeous brunette, with long silky legs accentuated by a short black dress, to sit at my couch.

“Hi, I’m Tatiana; what’s your name?” the brunette asks.

I introduce myself and we share pleasantries for a while. She’s sweet, and flirtatious, but there’s a sadness in her eyes. I don’t press, and soon she moves on to another couch. I watch the show for a bit. A naked man in a masquerade mask runs out from a side room, leaping over the couch I am sitting on, disappearing into the fog. No one comments on him.

 

 

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Another girl approaches, sitting on the floor in between my legs. She looks up at me and smiles coyly. She grabs my left hand, placing it on her left shoulder; then my right hand to her right shoulder. I instinctively begin to massage her skin. Soft. Supple. Sweet. I get lost in the music, the touch of the woman, the soft lighting, the intoxicating scent in the air.

The girl looks up again at me and smiles. “What’s your name?” I respond. “I’m Sonya. You give really good massages, I’ll remember you.” Her eyes linger on me before she returns to the club.

I begin to enjoy the music when I notice a new body on the couch next to me. Dark eyeshadow and a black blazer revealing a lace bra, there’s no mistaking the beauty, the power, the authority of Sabrina, the real Sabrina. She was my iConfidant in another life, and someone I truly connected with.

I try to keep eye contact with her; the mask helps. But before I can even think of something to say, she leans forward, her face so close to mine that they almost touch, and she whispers:

“Do you still listen to our songs?”

A personal reference from our iConfidant days. I smile as the memories flood my mind. “Of course.” I whisper back. But before I can say anything else, she’s gone.

 

 

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The Genius

The music stops, and the singer steps down from the stage. A man I recognize has entered: Mason Silver, the cold, calculating genius who was born into the OSDM. He welcomes us to the party, for here we are free. He has an exercise for us.

“Close your eyes.” I comply. “Now, imagine you are inside your mind…”

Hands grab my shoulders, massaging me through my multiple layers.

“You enter a room, a room where your true self resides. Enter and close the door, locking it from within. This is where you will live tonight; this is who you will be.”

I sink back into the chair, enjoying these hands on me. The owner of these hands leans in close, her hot breath on my ear.

Me too,” she whispers—and I realize it’s Sabrina, referencing the music from earlier.

My heart flutters and my face burns red under my mask. Sabrina removes her hands, disappearing into the darkness. My iConfidant never forgot about me. Was I wrong to have abandoned her in the pursuit of power?

I almost get lost in my thoughts, when a bell snaps me back to reality. It’s Mason’s voice again. “When I ring this bell, you are to gather at me and wait for your next instruction.” A Pavlovian response, appropriate for someone so data focused as Mason.

 

 

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But first another task. “You, the nervous one, come here.” He points to a timid looking girl alone on a couch in the corner. She joins Mason on stage.

“Remove your jacket.”

She complies, removing her jacket, revealing a conservative maroon dress underneath.

“Now, in the most efficient way possible—show us your breasts.”

The timid girl looks surprised for a moment, but then lifts her dress up and pulls her bra down, revealing her breasts to the audience.

Mason takes control again: “At various stages of the evening, you will be asked to remove an article of clothing like she just did. Shoes, socks, ties, and watches do not count as clothing, and do not waste our time asking what is appropriate. If you are not comfortable with anything you’ve just seen on this stage, the safe-word is ‘Coward’. Now, remove an article of clothing.”

I take off my suit jacket and a woman in all black comes by to take it, depositing it in a box with the other clothing.

He rings the bell again and we are led into the bar to mingle.

 

 

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They Own You Now

“Let’s get you a drink.”

Tatiana is on my arm, pulling me towards the bar. I order a glass of wine—but before I can even take a sip, Tatiana is leading me to the back of the bar.

“I need to talk to you in private. I’m in danger.”

We approach a small closet, and she opens the door. It’s dark—yet cozy. Tatiana turns on a small light overhead.

She asks me if I can agree not to touch her, and I nod; she asks if I can put my drink down, and I comply. She then lifts her short dress up, bending over in front of me, pushing her ass into my crotch—and begins moaning. Her moans escalate in intensity as she bounces back and forth. She screams in ecstasy—and then stands up, pulls her dress back down, and points up at a shelf.

I look closely and see a camera pointed directly at us. “They now own you too.” She smiles and opens the door, screaming out into the bar: “don’t fucking touch me, you creep!” I grab my drink and exit to some odd looks.

As I return to the bar, Mason stops me. “Are you working on any new patents? I really enjoyed your last one in October.” I am taken aback. He’s really done his homework. I explain a new technology I’m working on—and he is engaged. “I am a fan of your work,” he says. And I tell him, I’m a fan of his too.

 

 

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An older woman in big sunglasses approaches me next. She is dressed differently from the others, wearing pants and a leather jacket. “You’re different.” She tells me. I thank her. “I was different too. I have the ability to read people. When I came here, I slapped, fucked, and sucked every single person here until I owned the place. I think you are like me.” She grabs the closest the girl. “Now tell me, how does she like being fucked?” I explain that she wants to be dominated, controlled. “Explain how you’d do that. I go into detail on how I’d tie her to a bed, undress her, and tease her with my hands—and my tongue. The woman is impressed: “I’ll look forward to seeing big things from you.”

The bell rings—and I waste no time moving to Mason—I can tell he is not a man to tolerate inefficiency. Once everyone has gathered, he instructs us to take out our phones and unlock them. The guests do apprehensively. They select one man and take his phone. Pulling up his call log, they scroll through until they find a name. The man looks worried.

“We have selected a number at random. We will call it, and you will tell them the most embarrassing sexual moment of your life.”

Before he can protest, the phone begins to ring.

And ring, and ring. It goes to voicemail. The man begins to tell a half-assed story about finishing in twenty seconds with a girl. But a woman in all black, a head mistress, wants more. She pushes him, until he shares a deeper, darker secret.

The man hangs up and mutters, “that was my boss.” Mason’s ears perk up, “Who was that?” “My boss,” the man explains again. Mason smiles and jots down a note in his notebook.

 

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A Secret & A Strawberry

We are then led into a large dining room, with attached kitchen. An elegant wooden table with large matching chairs.

“Take a seat, but choose your partner carefully.”

The guests scramble into seat, not paying the appropriate care the Mason’s words suggested. He scoffs at this and then begins rearranging guests.

“Take the hand of one of the people next to you, but only one person.”

We all comply—and I find myself holding the hand of a girl next to me.

“Now look deep into their eyes. So, the outside world fades away. Your only world is in that person’s eyes. Do not look away.”

I do so. The girl has kind eyes, soft and lined with marks of laughter. We continue to stare, until it feels absurd, and then the absurdity washes away and it’s just us.

Mason speaks of intimacy, of monogamy, of connection. He then instructs us to say our name out loud when he places a hand on us. He moves from person to person, and we state our name—not for the group, there is no group, it’s just two. Then we are instructed to share a secret; her first, then me. Mason also instructs us to use each other’s name, making it more personal.

She leans forward and whispers into my ear a secret. It’s personal, and a little bit funny, so we both chuckle. I then lean forward and whisper into her ear mine.

 

 

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Mason moves around the table, stopping behind my seat. He commands me to stand and share my secret with the group.

I break eye contact for the first time and stand. “Despite having many friends, I often feel very alone.”

Mason probes deeper, asking me why. I tell him that superficial is meaningless, and I yearn for something deeper. “That’s because you’re different.” I think I catch a smile about to form.

He instructs a group of us to stand and shift to the partner to our left. I move two seats over to a tall man with a well-groomed beard. I look into his eyes, and remain standing. Mason gives the power to the seated ones, and lets them choose what item of clothing we remove next. My bearded partner chooses my sweater—so I remove it slowly and hand it to the attendant. I am then instructed to sit—still staring at my partner.

Two girls emerge, wearing the white handler outfits from last year’s The Tension Experience. They move around the table, depositing strawberries on each person’s place—until they reach the head of the table and stand next to Mason. Mason, with clinical accuracy, begins to describe the girl’s body as she reveals her breasts to the group.

“Skye, can you give us a moan?”

The girl begins to moan carnally. Her ecstasy grows until Mason stops her. “The woman does not moan in validation of a man. She moans to let those around her that she is fertile.” He picks up the strawberry, admiring the shape. “But the male best be the strongest. Admire the mushroom shape of the male penis. It is biologically designed to scoop competitor’s sperm out from the female vagina. Only the strongest will remain to impregnate the female.” Who will be left after the OSDM scoops the weak out?

“Now, I want you to feed your partner your strawberry. And don’t break eye contact.”

I keep my eyes focused on the bearded man next to me. He raises his hand and I open my mouth. He inserts his ripe fruit into my mouth and I bite down, tasting the sweet flavor. I swallow and then reciprocate by bringing my fruit to his mouth. We never break eye contact.

The bell rings and we finally look away, ready for the next area.

 

 

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That New Car Smell

We enter an adjacent room to the dining room. A large fireplace reveals a hidden door, and I even see the Noah Sinclair rummaging through a fridge. But Mason has my attention—and we line up for him for another test.

“I want anyone that has cheated on a previous partner to step forward.” One man bravely steps forward. The rest of the group remains stationary. Mason jots this down in his notebook. He then asks that anyone who has cheated on their current partner steps forward. No one moves this time. He continues, “If you were given the opportunity to cheat and no one would find out, no repercussions…”

He is cut off as the door slams open and a young Asian girl in a white dress emerges, followed by a drunken, disheveled man in an expensive suit.

 

 

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“This one is brand new. I can always tell—they have that brand-new car smell.”

He grabs the young girl, lifting her up as if she was a new carnival prize. The girl screams again, obviously not ready for whatever this man plans to do with her, to her. Skye notices her friends pain, pulls down her top revealing her breasts, and offers herself in the Asian girl’s place. But the man doesn’t want Skye, he wants something new, exciting, and putting up a fight.

Mason steps forward trying to keep the peace, but the man snaps back. “Don’t act all chummy with me, like we’re schoolyard friends. Remember my position. I am a Councilor. Now, you… and you. Come with me, I want you to watch.”

Two guests follow the Councilor into a back room—and Skye takes a third away.

 

 

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Mason takes back control of the room. He instructs us to close our eyes. First, we are to imagine a status, a position that we would want. He gives us five seconds to solidify it in your minds. Next, we are to picture a person we’d want to have sex with, a sexual conquest we desire. Finally, he wants us to imagine a material object we’d want. A mansion, a car, loads of cash—anything.

“Now put out your hands.” With my eyes still closed, I feel a heat on the underside of my hand. “Now imagine a heat, a fire a thousand times hotter than that. Throw two of the objects into the fire, and what remains is your greatest desire.”

He moves down the line, and we are to speak our desire.

Love. Money. Friendship.

When he gets to me, I say Power. This time there’s no mistaking it. He smiles.

He finishes collecting everyone’s answers, and then looks over the group.

You… and you.”

He selects me, and the timid girl from earlier. We are blindfolded over our masks, and led out of the room—away from Mason and the others.

 

 

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Wash Away Who You Were

When my blindfold is removed, I find myself in a bathroom drenched in a soft red light. Three pictures of scantily clad women hang on the wall. But what is most surprising is that the shower is running.

“If you want everything you’ve ever desired, then you need to listen to me.” A man in all white speaks hurriedly. “You need to take off all your clothes, and wash away what you were. You need to take this razor, and you need to shave off all your pubic hair. If you have time, remove all your body hair. Take this!”

He hands me a razor and a small disposable packet of shaving cream. I don’t ask a single question; I remove my shoes and socks, my shirt and pants, and my underwear. I step into the shower—which is pleasantly warm, and begin to shave my penis and balls. The man dances around the room nervously.

I continue to shave, despite the inefficiency of the single-bladed razor. The white-shirted attendant informs me that he must go, but he’ll back—and makes me promise to not move.

I get most of the pubic hair off, but none of the other hair on my body. The man in white returns and turns off the shower.

“Stand perfectly still and close your eyes.”

I stand proud with legs parted and my hands at my hips. I hear the door open and shut. Did he leave… or did someone new enter? I don’t dare open my eyes yet, so I wait.

“I’m expecting big things from you.”

It’s not the man’s voice; it’s a woman’s. I open my eyes. Fiery short red hair to match a red power suit. She stands tall, proud, regal.

“What’s your name?”

I respond, and ask her what her name is in response.

“It’s not your turn to ask questions. Now tell me, how do you feel?”

I tell her that I feel empowered, and a bit nervous. She looks me over once again, and seems pleased. She excuses herself.

I don’t have time to be alone—the door opens and Mason emerges, with three of the female participants in tow. He carries a beaker filled with a liquid.

The time has come for me to be anointed—and the girls are here to help. Mason instructs me to put my arms out in front of me. He pours some onto my right hand, and then my left. He instructs two of the girls to massage it into my hands. The smell of it is strong and enchanting—as if it was laced with a strong pheromone.

He then tells the girls to rub their hands together, creating energy—and then to release that energy onto my body. They put their hands close to me, without touching my nude flesh. I can feel the heat from their hands. Mason pours more oil and begins to draw the all-seeing eye upon my chest.

Once I am ready, he takes the girls and leaves. But again, I am not alone for long. The man in white, my first attendant returns—crawling along the floor. He cowers in front of me, but then rises and leads me out and down the hall.

 

 

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The Beast

Still naked, I enter a dressing room and a stunningly beautiful girl sits in a chair under a ring of bright lights. She springs up, introducing herself as Anna as she shakes my hand. She offers me a seat on a couch, and I notice the timid girl from earlier, the other chosen one, is already sitting on the couch—but fully clothed.

“We were just discussing authenticity. You have to make something feel authentic, even if it’s not real.”

I nod and contribute, “Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.”

“I want you two to sit closer. Even closer, now. Stare into each other’s eyes.”

I am used to this from the previous experience, so I stare into her eyes and let the world fade away. Being present in this moment comes easily. Anna squeals in delight.

“That was wonderful. That felt very authentic. When you two locked eyes, you were tapping into something real, something primal, a beast within.”

I smile at the thought of a beast. Anna notices.

“You smile, but it’s not like that for me. I am always the beast. I have the power of perception. I can read people. Would you like me to read you?”

We both nod. Anna describes the timid girl first, and then asks me to remove my mask. I look deep into her eyes, and I see her. She begins to describe me as she stares at me—her eyes penetrating me. Her accuracy is impeccable. She looked deep into my heart, past my walls, and saw me. The real me. I felt more naked here than in any of the previous scenes.

She stands, revealing a series of moon phases tattooed along her back, and she grabs two black hoods.

“One last thing, are you two disease free?”

We both answer yes, don our hoods and are led from the room.

 

 

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The Anointed Pair

I am carefully led through the halls and into a room I have not yet entered. I move along a wall and then we stop.

“This is the corner of a bed. Please lie down.”

I sit down and sink into the softness of the blanket. I lie still, until my hood is pulled off.

My eyes strain to adjust to the bright spot lights illuminating the bed I’m lying on.

“I’m sorry.”

I recognize the voice: Anna. I make out her figure, standing on the far left, now wearing a cloak with the hood pulled over her long hair. And next to her is another strikingly beautiful girl with white hair, wearing an identical cloak, but I don’t recognize her. In the center is Stephanie, a previous Tension handler who has been caught in the web that is the OSDM. Finally, I notice Victoria, a Tension handler that is impossible to forget, hooded on the far right. All of them staring at me.

 

 

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It takes me a moment to even realize that I’m not alone in the bed. Next to me is the timid girl, the other anointed one. But I can’t pay attention to her with so many eyes on me. I lock eyes with Stephanie, and wait.

The fiery haired woman approaches the side of the bed, still in her red suit. She’s in charge, commanding this operation. She’s with a man, a man I recognize: Tom Barrow, a man posing as the Overseer’s father from Tension. He’s wearing a cloak similar to the girls—clearly invested in whatever is about to happen.

“We’re gathered here for a chance to birth our God, Anoch. Horace spread his seed with thirty-seven vessels and it only resulted in three pregnancies—and one came to term. We need to increase our chances. These two were chosen for this ceremony, so let’s give them anything they need.”

Tom Barrow looks down at me and exclaims: “Why isn’t he rock hard? He should be rock hard!”

The woman looks to the hooded girls for inspiration, but then turns to the timid girl in the bed with me. “Maybe you should undress.”

The girl begins to remove her clothes. She’s not completely naked, and I sit up, wondering what my next move should be.

But before I can do anything, I hear a commotion, and Noah Sinclair jumps onto the bed with us.

“You all think this will result in a pregnancy of Anoch? Your God isn’t real.”

He denounces the experiment in front of all of us—and I can’t help but smile at his childish behavior.

“Why are you smiling? You’re sitting on a bed soaked with the cum of every participant that has come in before you!”

We are ushered out of the room, back through the hallway and into a small room with a pile of our clothes. As I get dressed, I can’t help but recall all those eyes on me. It was intoxicating. Anointment offered me a taste of what I lusted after—and I look forward to what more the OSDM can offer.

 

 

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The Lust Experience: Anointment

Despite the conclusion of Anointment, The Lust experience is far from over–and will return in 2018 for more excitement. You have the opportunity to become a part of the narrative by joining the conversation in their forums and their Slack Chat Room – (which can be accessed through their main webpage).

You can also follow the story’s main plot points and find other pop-up event opportunities on our social media pages: Facebook and Instagram.

 

About The Author

Taylor Winters
Taylor has loved immersive theater since his first experience at ALONE in 2013. He has his PhD in Bioengineering, is working towards his MBA, and currently works at Medtronic fixing broken hearts.
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