One month later the private exhibition opened.

The gallery was packed with people in the finest, thickest latex: mirrored black, blood-red, chrome silver. Every guest wore at least 4 mm suits, hoods, boots. The air smelled of polish and lust.

In the centre of the room stood Living Doll #7.

He was sealed in her masterpiece: 5 mm mirror-chrome latex, fully enclosed hood with one-way mirrored eye panels, internal catheter, the rectal toy upgraded to deliver both vibration and graduated shocks. All his piercings were visible through strategic transparent panels, nipples, navel, Prince Albert, guiche, each ring polished until it sparkled.

A small table beside the pedestal held the remote. Guests were invited to “interact.”

For three hours they took turns. One woman in crimson latex set the toy to a low buzz and watched his knees quiver. Another in silver cranked it to a sharp shock that made his whole body jolt; she smiled behind her hood and passed the remote on. A third guest edged him for twenty minutes with pulsing waves, then hit the maximum shock just as he was about to tip over the edge. He stayed perfectly posed, arms gracefully raised, head tilted, back arched, while his caged cock strained and leaked.

Through the mirrored lenses he watched her the entire time. She moved among the guests like a ghost, expression never changing, occasionally adjusting one of his limbs with cool gloved fingers. Every time their eyes met (hers hidden, his visible only to her) something hot and aching bloomed in his chest. Not lust alone, devotion. He was hers. Completely. Irrevocably.

At midnight the last guest left. She locked the gallery door, walked up to the pedestal, and for the first time all evening spoke directly to him.

“Contract renewal is tomorrow. You may leave if you wish.”

She opened the mouth panel. His voice was hoarse, trembling with emotion he could no longer hide.

“Please… renew it. I don’t want to be anything else. I’m yours.”

For the briefest moment her gloved thumb brushed his lower lip, almost tender, but her voice stayed ice.

“Very well. One more year as my living doll.”

She zipped the panel shut, turned off the gallery lights, and left him displayed in the dark, chrome body gleaming, rectal toy giving one final, possessive pulse.

He closed his eyes behind the mirror and smiled inside the latex.

He had never been happier.