Quote Originally Posted by H Dean View Post
Francis’ guests arrived at precisely six o’clock in the evening. Failure to do so would have been a breach of etiquette and was severely frowned upon by the members of this special fraternity.
This sentence is just wrong. These people are pretentious, that is obvious. But the way you are saying this just does not work. I wish I could be specific about why I know it is wrong, but I can't.

Each guest was dressed in proper evening attire, as if attending a ball. Greeting them in the main foyer was Francis. At his side was a tall man, studious in appearance and dressed in the same fashion as the newly arrived guests. Few took particular note of the man, except to shake hands upon introduction.
The sentences give me pause also. The first is structured wrong according to word, and when I read it in cunjunction with the second, it feels off. I think you should use him in place of the man in the second sentence. As for the first sentence, delete the and and insert a comma. It reads better.

“Friends,” Francis began, “It is my pleasure to welcome you into my home. I do hope you find this night as enjoyable as I believe you will. Now, if you will, follow me into my study. I’ve some artwork I think you will find quite stunning.”

As the group entered the study, each was properly impressed. Antique rugs hung from 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 nymph's eyes open, sending chills down the woman’s spine.

”No!” she exclaimed. “Francis! She can’t be real. Is she?”

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 would restructure the start of the second sentence. I am beggining to see these people as the pretentios type who would always be conscious of proper use of the Queen's English. That makes dialogue an extra challenge as you can get away with less. Might even consider doing away with contractions to intensify this aura.

I would definately have some questions about this material. Skin needs to breathe, It also needs to be clean. It sheds. I know this because I was in the Navy. We spent weeks far from land, yet the floor kept getting dirty. Swab the deck 2x a day everyday, and the water was always black. this was shed skin.

This material, how does it deal with waste? Irritation? etc.

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?”

”She is frozen in time, Beatrice,” Francis explained. “Forever a statue in service of monsters.”
This seems to me to totally throw off the flow. Saying frozen in time gives me the wrong idea here. My first thought was some type of time stop, but I do not believe that was your ultimate intention, else her eyes woul not open. Plus, if she is aware of her plight, it adds to the sadistic pleasure. Might want to redo this whole thing. Plus, the last part is a fragment, see my argument about prtension that I can feel through this whole party.

“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 one, is it real, too?" asked a tall, dark haired man.

"Ah, this one...my most recent piece," Francis said, striding over to the man. "I had to have this 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’s beautiful,” the man replied.

“Thank you. I wanted her to appear much like a painting,” Francis said. “My initial thought was of Fay Ray in the clutches of King Kong. Then I settled on an image from an old pulp fiction fantasy novel I read as a young man. I can’t 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.

"Marvelous!" Beatrice issued. "Such hideous beauty. Such sadistic pleasures you must find in this beauty."
If you combine these sentences you eliminate the fragment and continue the air of pretension.

"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."

"Desk? Who or what is Desk?" asked the woman.
Again, combing these sentences has a better effect. Also, I would change it to she asked.

Francis turned his gaze to the small desk at the far end of the room. It was made of dark oak and appeared well crafted and sturdy. From the center top of the desk, just beneath the desk’s top piece, could be seen the lower portions of a woman. Her bottom jutted out slightly and her feet spread wide and disappeared into the desk's thick legs. Had one not known better, one would swear that she was carved from the same wood as the desk

"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?" chuckled one of the guests.

"Please, feel free to look," Francis told the man.

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, smiling. "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's 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," Beatrice was informed. "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,” issued another guest.

“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 the man.

“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 for you. The man responsible for these creations is here.”

Their attention was immediate, as was the sudden silence filling the room. 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 your, or our, illegal activities. 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!” she exclaimed, smiling.

Francis returned the smile, raising his arm in an open gesture to the man beside him. “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.”
As I said, a much better feel to this story, thus the feel of it comes across better. I hope my nits will be something that you see as working for the story, but you may have a different feel for the prtensious aura I see. I do get the feeling that they would consider themselves superior to the "art" on dispay, and that is why i would suggest going for the proper use of english. As Carrie Fisher once said, "Some things can only be said with an English accent."