Loading...I feel ridiculous; underdressed and overly aware of how much glitter is on my face.
“Come out,” Maddy had said.
“It’ll be fun,” Tiff had said.
“It’ll be good for you,” Amber had added.
“You have to get out of that dark dungeon of despair you’ve condemned yourself too,” I had said to myself.
So here I am. Awesome. Catching a passing reflection of myself in one of the house’s—perhaps estate or manor might be more apt—darkened windows, I half expect the specter of a long-dead schoolmarm, or some other keeper of all things femininely proper and sacred, to appear in the shadows of the antebellum porch and box my ears, scolding me for my scantily clad form that left little to the imagination. I can’t help tugging at the hem of my dark crimson skirt (mini skirt would have been an exaggeration), reminding myself not to bend over.
“Stop fidgeting, you look great,” Amber whispers, elbowing me in the ribs like we are still on the playground in third grade.
“Seriously, Hannah, you look freaking fabulous. Who would have known you had that body under those hideous sweaters you insist on wearing 24/7?” Maddy adds.
“Besides no one will know who you are, that’s why it’s called a ‘masquerade!’ You get to wear masks!” Tiff enthusiastically crows, gleefully tapping her own bejeweled and feathered mask.
Maddy snorts, shaking her head, “I thought it was so you didn’t know who you were taking home for the night!” She jiggles her sequined booty in emphasis.
I turn to bolt for the stairs off the porch, but all three of the girls, my so-called besties, block my escape.
“Hannah you promised,” Amber says, her breath laced with a pre-party kamikaze shot.
“No more hiding from the world,” Tiff jumps in. “No one here knows about you, and even if they do they won’t know it is you because you’re wearing… a mask.” She dramatically taps her mask again with a mischievous grin.
Maddy hooks her purple gloved arm around my black one and escorts me to the front door, our matching stilettos making loud clicks on wooden porch floorboards. “Time to return to the land of the living and leave the past in the past,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Easier said than done for a history PhD candidate,” I whisper under my breath.
“Shh,” Maddy replies in a heated whoosh. “Tonight you get to be anybody you want and nobody will be none the wiser tomorrow.” She slurs her words slightly and giggles as she hiccups with her own pre-party kamikaze shot, which she’d followed up by shot-gunning a beer for old-time’s sake, or so she’d said.
As she hammers the doorknocker with determined force I wish for the hundredth time since I’d stepped out of the car and seen the grand Old Dubois Plantation outlined in the moonlight that I had partaken in a cocktail (or five), just to steady my rattled nerves. I had not been to a party, well since before Christmas. I’d avoided being around large groups of people with prying eyes and too many questions. However, it was the whispered side comments murmured behind my back that stung the most. So I just don’t go.
Too late now. Amber and Tiff flank us giddily on either side in excited anticipation.
They have been waiting for this party all semester. It was Spring Break: no papers to grade, our own research on hold (at least for the next 48 hours), and invites to an annual masquerade party that is always the talk of campus, and the town, and hell, probably the entire southern half of Louisiana. To get an invite to the Dubois Annual Masque meant we had arrived. Or Maddy had somehow slutted her way on to the guest list, as she was wont to do every now and again.
However, tonight you would not have known who was the slut and who was the campus shut-in. Each of us was coiffed in an equally revealing mini skirt, complete with fishnet stockings, stilettos, and push-up bras that were barely concealed by glittering tops. Maddy was decked out in a deep purple and slate gray; Tiff had picked a cotton candy pink skirt and a pale blue corset; Amber had gone all white with a laugh. And for me they had decided upon a dark, blood-red skirt overlaid with black lace and a black sequined bodice trimmed with blood-red laces that accentuated, even created, sensuous curves and lines that I never knew existed.
And of course there were the satin, elbow-length gloves, which looked more suited for an evening gown ensemble than sexed up party. In fact, I’m pretty sure my arms have more fabric on them than the rest of my body combined.
The door swings open in a blaze of light, laughter, and music. I squint for a moment, hesitating at the threshold, contemplating a dead sprint for the car. Then the image of me snapping an ankle on the stairs as I try to navigate them with 5 inch heels and the subsequent tangled, spread-eagle flail toward the expansive, expertly manicured lawn stilled my adrenaline. The grass deserves better. The next moment my potential for escape vanishes as the girls usher me through the doorway and into the party.
Alcohol, I need alcohol. I haven’t had a drink, well, it’s been awhile, but the only way I am going to survive tonight (unless I can somehow master blending into wallpaper in the next ten seconds) is if I have a glass in my hand, now.
As if reading my thoughts, the girls push me through the throng of pulsating bodies and masked faces toward a table covered with every brand and vintage, as far as I can tell.
“Shots!” Amber screams, grabbing plastic neon shot glasses and shoving them into our hands.
I slam mine back in half-a-heartbeat and don’t even hesitate when another shot magically appears in my hand a second later.
“Round two!” Tiff grins wickedly and we all throw our heads back in unison.
“Whoooo!” Mandy shrieks, gyrating her hips and linking her arm around my waist. “Let’s party!”
*** I don’t remember losing the girls, but one by one we had floated away from each other, caught up in the intoxicating rush of the mob. Everywhere you look there are strangers mingling, laughing, groping as if they have known each other for years. You can’t go more than ten steps before hitting another ad-hoc bar set up. I am having a hard time believing anyone will be able to remember, much less talk about, the party tomorrow. I know the edges of my world have softened, my nerves have quieted, and I can feel the warm, soft burn of liquor dancing through my veins. I haven’t felt this relaxed in, well, I can’t remember; I don’t want to remember.
I wander down a long, shadowy hallway lit dimly by twinkling lights glowing on pale blue strings hanging from the ceiling. Door after door opens onto countless rooms filled with intimate gatherings and mini-parties. I slip in and out of these effortlessly, talking when I wanted to talk, flirting and touching here and there before detaching myself and moving on unseen to the next room. No one asks for my name, no one looks at me as if I something to pity. Incognito definitely has its perks.
Somewhere in the sprawling house a clock strikes midnight and I wonder briefly where my girls have gone. Maybe I should go find them, god knows what sort of trouble they’re getting themselves into to. The heat of the hallway pushes in on me from all sides and I feel the music blasting through my heels from the floor below. I rub my left wrist absently, feeling a faint raised outline under the silky fabric. My fingers trace its length halfway up my arm.
I need fresh air, I think, shaking my head and touching the mask against my face to make sure I’m still hidden. I cross over to one of the curtained windows recessed between the doorways, hoping one of them is open.
Fanning myself with my hand I take another sip from my drink, finishing it in one long swallow, a refreshing burst of one part citrus and three parts vodka. I can feel my buzz starting to lift and know I’ll need another drink soon or I’ll feel like Cinderella without her glass slipper. I place my empty glass on a small table next to the heavy, velvet curtains and push the fabric aside to find the window.
But I don’t touch glass, just open air. The curtains part slightly and I see the old hardwood floors extending beyond their cover. It’s another room.
I step through, out of curiosity more than anything else.
I find myself standing in a small space not much wider than my arm span, bracketed on either side with a single white candle burning with an amber glow, casting shadows across the walls. Behind me are the curtains I had just stepped through, and in front of me are yet another set of drapes, these a rich midnight blue.
Why would you hang two sets of curtains? I think hazily.
I can’t help myself, ignoring that little voice deep inside of me that is whispering feverishly at me to do an about face and march my skimpily clad behind out of there this instant. Instead, I gently part the thick, velvety curtains and peer through. I almost laugh out loud when I find myself facing yet another curtain. However this one is just a sheer pale wisp of almost translucent lace that does little more than soften the image behind it. A gracefully wrought iron railing that comes up to the hem of my skirt lies between the two layers of fabric, halting any forward progress I can make, at least in these heels.
Deep down I am still imagining there to be a window on the other side of the curtain, maybe overlooking a secret inner courtyard haunted by some jilted lover’s ghost. That would explain the sentinel drapes.
However, my imagination falls inelegantly short.
As my eyes adjust I see through the lacy haze a large, open room dominated by a massive fireplace at the far end, lit with a low, smoldering fire that throws shifting shadows across the room and its occupants. Leather armchairs and chaise lounges form a large arc in the middle of the chamber, centered about what appears to be a low dais or altar covered with dark plum and wine colored cushions. Men in masks recline with brandy in hand, a few with cigars, one with a pipe, watching, staring. Here and there a couple of gentlemen dip their heads in conversation, laughing at their own joke, before turning their attention back to the altar.
The woman is bent over at the waist; her long lean legs splayed open in a wide stance atop her platform heels. She is leaning over the dais, holding herself up on straight arms. Her raven black hair is pulled up in a thick braid high atop her head. Aside from her black mask, black heels, and a pair of lacy black panties she is naked. The light caresses her striking form, full breasts hanging down toward the cushions under her tan chest. Her back arches in a slight curve, pushing her rounded ass up into the air for all the spectators to see.
But she is not alone. Two men, one a fair haired, blue-eyed Greek god, the other the epitome of tall, Dark and Handsome, stand in matching slate-gray, tailored suits and white masks. They look like they accidentally wandered into the room on their way to a swanky dinner gala. The Greek god had undone his tie, letting it hang loosely around his neck, his pristine white shirt unbutton at the collar.
He walks up to the statuesque beauty and runs his hand over her ass, rubbing her skin with slow, languid strokes. He slips his fingers under the lace band of her panties, dipping in a teasing motion toward her pussy. She doesn’t move. He glides his fingers deeper under her panties, circling her clit with lazy flicks of his wrist. Still, she doesn’t move, doesn’t make a sound.
But I can see her breathing quicken, her breasts rising and falling faster, her dark nipples erect and tense.
He looks back at his audience and grins before sliding his hand deeper between her legs, finding her pussy. He places his other hand over her breast, gently tugging on her nipple.
Still, she doesn’t move.
Then Dark and Handsome nods his head with a wicked leer and the Greek god plunges his finger deep into her still covered pussy as he twists her nipple with a vicious turn.
A low moan breaks through her sealed lips and her knees buckle slightly. Without a moment’s hesitation Dark and Handsome brings his hand crashing down on her raised ass with a cruel smack.
A gasp escapes my lips just as a tiny whimper creeps from hers, which is followed by an even more sadistic slap to her other ass cheek. This time she remains silent.
“Ahh, you’re learning pet. No noise. No movement. Nothing unless you are given permission,” Dark and Handsome says in a thick, husky growl. I see a couple men around the room adjust their swelling cocks as they sip from their glasses.
I shake my head in disbelief, my little voice returning with a vengeance. Get the hell out of here, it shrieks like a little girl. But my legs don’t listen. I’m rooted in place, torn between fleeing in terror and the possibility of something else.
I’ve never seen anything like this. Oh sure, I’ve heard about it, who hasn’t? But in truth, I haven’t even thought about sex much at all over the past few years. I don’t have time for any sort of extracurricular life, much less a kinky one, what with my doctoral dissertation and free slave labor for my advisor.
I watch, biting my lower lip as the Greek god pulls the woman’s panties down to her mid thighs leaving them stretched in a taught line between her legs. He grips her ass roughly between his hands, kneading her flesh with his fingers, spreading her cheeks apart so the men circled around them can catch a glimpse of her glistening lips and puckered, dark asshole. Then he pulls his jacket off and tosses it aside before slowly unbuckling his belt.
I cannot believe he is going to fuck her in front of all of those men. Go, go, go, my little voice cries out. But I can’t move, can’t break the hold they have over me, as if in a trance.
He tugs his belt off in a final flourish but instead of unzipping his pants he folds the belt in half and asks the woman, “You’ve been a bad little whore, haven’t you pet?”
“Yes Sir,” she replies in a quiet whisper.
“Louder pet, he couldn’t hear you,” Dark and Handsome says crossly, tweaking her nipple with a nasty pinch.
“Yes Sir, I have been a bad little whore,” she says again, her voice loud and slightly husky.
The Greek god runs his hand down her ass cheek and up through her thighs, grazing her now exposed, shaven lips. “Tell us how you have been bad, little whore,” he says lazily flicking her clit.
“I played with myself without permission,” she says through clenched teeth.
A knowing murmur runs through the crowd as men adjust in their seats to get a better view, others rubbing their cocks slowly through their pants, uncaring of their fellow spectators.
“And what happens when slave girls pleasure themselves without their Master’s explicit permission?” Dark and Handsome asks in an ominous tone.
“They must pay the price, answer for their sins,” she says meekly.
“That’s right. Every transgression must be corrected or else you may lose your way. We are here to guide you back, to make sure you stay safe,” Dark and Handsome says in an affectionate tone that twists my insides with something akin to disgust blended with an unspoken want, adding to the growing smolder I feel slowly blossoming deep in the pit of my stomach.
I need to get out of here, I think to myself, trying to pull myself back from the curtains, but my legs are locked in place, my breathing is shallow.
“I know, Master,” she says, her voice cracking with shame, her head dipping slightly. I see her breasts rise and fall deeply.
“Are you ready to answer?” Dark and Handsome asks, running a finger along her spine.
“Yes Master, please let me answer for my crime and right my wrong,” she says with iron conviction, arching her back once more and pushing her ass up higher in the air.
Oh my god, I think, she feels like she deserves this. This is fucked up.
I hear the belt race through the air before it lands with a solid crack on her ass. A red welt leaps out across her smooth skin, marring its perfect tan glow. Again the belt flies, scorching her flesh, again, and again. The Greek god lays stripe after burning stripe across her round cheeks in seven neat, raised lines. Her breath comes in gasps but she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t cry out.
“What do you have to say for yourself, little whore?” The golden Greek god asks nonchalantly, stilling his hand and his belt.
She arches her back again, a slight smile playing on her lips, steadying her feet and thrusting her ass arrogantly in the air. “Please sir, give me what I deserve, purge the sin from my flesh.” Dark and Handsome dips his hand between her pussy lips and pulls a finger out covered in her shiny wetness. He puts it to her lips and watches her greedily suck her own juices from his hand.
My head reels as I realize not only did she feel like she deserves this, she wants it. It’s turning her on. With growing dismay, I can feel my own dark desire pooling low in my belly; I can feel the hint of wetness seeping through my panties.
I have to get out of here, I say roughly to myself, shaking my head to break the spell I’ve fallen under, forcing myself to go. But I never finish turning around. I have been so caught up in the scene before me I had no idea that someone had entered the alcove behind me.
“Find something you like?” your deep, gravelly voice whispers warmly in my ear as your large hands clasp my upper arms, holding me in place against your muscled chest. For a heartbeat, I feel as if I should know you, catching the earthy scent of your cologne, the soft drawl in your words. You seem almost familiar, like deja-vu, but then the moment is gone and your strangeness and invasion into my personal space comes charging to the front of my mind.
Startled by the fact that someone has snuck up on me so completely while I watched this intimate display of feminine debasement, I go completely still. I can feel my face blush hot and red with humiliation at being caught. Then I realize with my mask on, you don’t know me, so why should I be ashamed? Besides, you’re the one sneaking up on people. But as your hands tighten on my arms, reality sets in, fear lancing down my spine, my heart kicking into high gear.
I take a sharp breath in, ready to scream bloody murder. Before I have a chance to exhale you force a leather ball into my mouth and strap it to my face. By the time I realize you had to let go of my arms to secure the ball gag you already have me pinned back against your chest, your breath slow and steady against my neck. So much for a quick thinking escape.
I try to scream through the gag but you whisper quietly, without intimidation in my ear, “You can scream if you want, but what do you think those gents would do if they found you watching their little get-together uninvited? I’m sure they would be more then happy to include you in their fun as payment for admission.”
That brings me quickly to my mental knees; you are right. My head spins. I have to pick the lesser of two evils: the stranger standing at my back or the pack of aroused men beyond the sheer curtain.
“That’s what I thought, Little One,” you whisper in my ear as you nudge me toward the rail, pushing me over the cold metal so I was balancing precariously on my heels, my ass pushing into your slowly hardening groin, my nose inches from the sheer lace.
Fear trips my heart at the thought of one of the audience members glancing this way, catching me behind the curtain. But all eyes are focused on the submissive woman on the altar, panting with pain and pleasure as Dark and Handsome spanks her ass in between flicks of his finger over her clit. Her arms have buckled and she holds her body up on her elbows, her breasts bouncing heavily with every slap.
You laugh in my ear, “Someone knows how to take her licks, hmm Little One. Now don’t move or I will send you over the rail and into their lusting arms, got it?”
I can only nod my head, ice freezing my heart. You pull my arms up above my head and then spread them widely apart. You pin me against the rail as your hands work deftly, tying my wrists one at a time with silken ropes to wooden handgrips set into the wall on either side of the curtained opening. The grips are placed slightly in front of the rail, forcing me to continue leaning forward, my pussy pressed against the cold metal, my legs straining slightly in my compromising stance. You gently guide my hands to the grips as you finish tightening the ropes with a definitive tug. “Hold onto those, sweet thing, don’t want you to lose your balance now do we?”
Somewhere in my brain, the cold analytical side of me wonders why those grips are there. It seems like an odd place for handgrips and rope.
You laugh lightly under your breath as you insert a food between my feet, pushing them apart with your knee until I am standing as wide-legged as the woman bent over the altar. You step back from me and I can feel the cool air rush into the space between us. I picture you looking at me, spread-eagle and completely immobilized, not sure if I should be more terrified of the unknown danger at my back or the witnessed peril in front of me.
Blood pounds in my ears and I realize the last vestige of my alcoholic haze has burned off with the adrenaline surge. I want to struggle against my bonds, panicking like a trapped animal, but I know that any noise I make will draw unwanted attention from the room beyond the curtains. I make a decision then and there to accept your brand of dark intent over the altar and it’s congregation of men with raging hard-ons and lascivious leers. I hold my breath, squinting my eyes closed, trying to block the tears. I won’t let you see my cry.
“You’re missing the show, Little One,” you whisper in my ear, startling me out of my thoughts for the second time. I squeeze my eyes shut even harder, trying to maintain some level of self-determination but your husky voice slices through my consciousness as you run a finger down my jaw line, “Open your eyes and watch Little One or you will become the one who is watched.”
I blinked back a misting of tears as I open my eyes to look into the space beyond the curtains. Through the lace I see that the slave woman is now on her hands and knees on the altar. Dark and Handsome is lounging in front of her on a pile of cushions, his jacket discarded and his shirt opened, revealing a layer of steel abs under dark skin. He watches as the woman deftly undoes his pants and loosens his boxers, releasing his straining cock directly in front of her face. She looks up at him and asks permission before bending her head gratefully to slowly, seductively lick the head of his throbbing dick with her tongue. I watch as more men sitting in the chairs and chaises pull out their dicks and begin stroking them.
“Erotic, isn’t it sweet thing?” you softly ask, licking my ear lobe and then trailing kisses down my neck. “Nothing quite like watching a woman honestly humiliate herself because she knows she deserves it and she wants it, wants that domination, that discipline, that structure, more than air.” As you say this you hands lightly grip my throat in possession. “To be owned and to want to be owned.” Then you let your hands slide slowly down my body, running over my breasts, down my stomach, across my groin, around my ass and up my back. You kiss my neck again, as if you were a lover and not a stranger who had tied me up and gagged me in a dark alcove. I feel the first edges of my fear melt away, replaced by a feeling I can’t name, I won’t name.
Your fingers slip expertly through the laces holding my bodice up, loosening its comforting grip on my breasts. “I have to admit I was surprised to see you here, dressed like this. I really thought you had higher standards for yourself Hannah,” you say with what sounds like disapproval, maybe even disappointment.
It takes me another ten seconds to put two and two together; you know me. Again, an image, more like an echo of a dream rises up in my mind, and I hear your voice, as if through water. What are you saying? Why do I feel like I know you?
A sharp intake from beyond the curtain stills your hands for an instant as we both look up. The woman has Dark and Handsome’s cock fully in her mouth. And the Greek god is now lying on his back between her knees, his face buried in her pussy, his tongue licking her folds with soft caresses. He has his hands on her ass cheeks, spreading them, grabbing them, pulling her toward him in rhythmic movements. She lets out another mewling groan around the cock in her mouth as he slips a finger into her wet hole, his tongue touching her clit.
“Now there’s an idea,” you say softly, your hands returning to my bodice, which quickly slides to the floor, leaving my breasts heaving inside my bra. You run your hands up over my flat stomach, over my bra, grasping my breasts in a firm, kneading grip, pulling me tight against your body as you slowly grind your rigid hard-on into my back. You nip at my shoulder as you push my bra cups down below my nipples, forcing my breasts up as if on a shelf.
“God you have great tits,” you say with pure admiration. I can’t help but feel a flicker of pride; I have always thought of my breasts as small, almost B’s; I’d wished countless times for a little extra curve. But here you are, gently cradling my breasts with tender appreciation.
You circle one nipple with a lazy finger as you hold me tight against you with your other hand. I feel the liquid pool inside me start to simmer despite my internal reproach. My little voice chants, “you don’t want this” over and over. I try to listen, but your hands against my exposed skin, your breath against my ear, is pulling me away from myself.
Dark and Handsome buries wraps the sub’s braid around his hand, grinding her face against his cock as he arches his back with pleasure. The Greek god has slid out from between her legs and is now holding a vibrating bullet in his hand. He waits a minute for Dark and Handsome to loose his hot cum into the woman’s bruised mouth before turning the vibrator on and touching it to her clit. He is waiting with wicked intent for her to groan loudly and buckle under the vibrating toy. The second she starts to lose control he smacks her as with a cruel slap of his hand, adding another layer of red to the livid wheals on her cheeks. “Don’t you fucking move,” he growls as he slides the vibrator back over her clit while she tries to hold her statue pose: her ass raised in the air, her upper body supported on her elbows, her head hanging limply toward the altar.
You bring me back to my own ordeal as you slide your hand down to my skirt and push it up around my waist. I can’t help the quiet yelp that escapes my lips around the ball in mouth.
You twist my nipple with a wicked turn, your voice hot in my ear, “You’d do best to follow the slut’s example and keep quiet and still unless I tell you otherwise.”
My heart skips a beat at your words and how quickly you have gone from tender touch to inflicting pain. My nipple throbs from the harsh attention, but so does my pussy, as if daring me to deny my desire. I am starting to lose a grip on what I know and I struggle inside of myself, trying to steel myself against your touch and the erotic scene unfolding before me.
You bunch my skirt up around my waist and then pull my panties down slowly, just low enough that my ass is fully exposed, my clean-shaven lips touching the cold iron. I feel another flush of shame streak across my masked cheeks, burning down my neck. The cold air kisses my hardening nipples, whispering across my naked ass and unveiled pussy even though I technically still have my bra, panties, and skirt on. Not to mention the damn gloves. And again I feel my body betray me, the moisture growing between my pussy lips, slowly slipping out to touch the cold metal rubbing against my clit as you grind your hips against mine.
“I have dreamed about you naked,” your breath tickles my ear, “but seeing you exposed and still clothed is absolutely incredible. Do you know how beautiful you are?” You gently caress my stomach and kiss my shoulder before gliding your hand up to my breasts, catching my nipples between your fingers and pulling on them, tugging, twisting with increasing intensity. You squeeze them with an exquisitely painful force and it is like adding kerosene to the fire burning between my legs. A low moan climbs in my throat even as I try to throw up mental blockades, screaming internally that this is not me, that I do not want this.
“That’s right Little One, let me in. Give in to this. To me.” You leave one hand on my breast, returning to a gentle rolling of my nipple as your other hand slides down my torso, over my mons, to my pussy. You gently spread my lips with your fingers and instruct me once more to watch the show in front of us.
My breath quickens as you gently circle my clit, teasing me in a slow, erotic dance.
I watch as Dark and Handsome stands up off of the altar and walks behind his sub, his cock already twitching with new life. He moves close to his fair skinned twin, leaning under the altar and picking up a large, black dildo. The Greek god grins wickedly and turns the speed up on the vibrating bullet he holds against the woman’s clit. She jolts with the increased intensity and pays for it with a swift crack across her tender ass. She stills herself against the rhythmic pulse of the bullet, holding her breath as Dark and Handsome rubs the massive black dildo’s head over her slick pussy lips, coating it with her juices. She groans quietly, and again a hand falls down with a resounding crash on her still up turned ass.
You push a finger into my own slick pussy hole and I strangle a groan in my throat, my head snapping up. My breath catches and I find myself arching against your hand even as my inner voice yells at me with disgust. God I don’t want this, I think to myself, begging for it to stop, praying it won’t. Humiliation floods through me as I feel how wet my own pussy has become, how easily you slide your finger in and out of my hole, massaging my inner flesh. My nose flares and I grip the hand bars firmly, trying to beat down my rising carnal desire, force it back into the space I never go. But it won’t listen; indeed, it grows in strength as you slide a second finger between my inner folds. I push against your hand without thought, groaning against the gag.
“Shh, not another sound,” you whisper in my ear as I watch Dark and Handsome slowly push the tip of the massive dildo into the woman’s pussy, spreading her lips so his audience could fully appreciate her stretching hole.
You slide a third finger deep into me. I groan into the gag, rolling my hips against your hand. You shove me hard against the rail, the metal warming with my heat, grinding against my clit, pushing my ass up into the air as I try to balance on my heels.
“I told you to be quiet, Little One,” you say, pulling your fingers out my warm hole, slipping your thumb over my clit in a tortured twirl.
I can’t help but groan again at the burning fire between my thighs, a moan that is echoed by the slave on the altar as the massive dildo slides deeper into her pussy. I know that smack is coming before it lands on her red cheeks.
But I didn’t expect the rough slap of your hand against my own ass, timed perfectly so the noise in the room covered the noise in our secret hiding place.
“I warned you, Little One. There are lessons you must learn.” My ass stings where your hand struck and I feel the flame of shame inside, shocked to realize it is a mixture of humiliation at my current degrading, submissive position and humiliation because I couldn’t follow your simple instructions.
The Greek god laughs as Dark and Handsome shoves the woman roughly forward onto a pile of cushions, her ass raised up above the rest of her body. “Seems like you still haven’t learned self-control, little whore,” Dark and Handsome says huskily, pushing the dildo head even further into her swollen pussy lips. The Greek god slides the small vibrating bullet under her, resting it on the cushions nestled against her clit, grinning maliciously as he turns the speed up again, listening to her cry out.
My own whimper slips out around the ball and I feel you push me against the rail, my clit bouncing against the hard metal in a torturous dance. “Shh,” you whisper again. Your grope my nipple and twist it cruelly, then you hit my ass me again, hard, forcing my sensitive clit back against the railing, my nose brushing the sheer curtain, my breasts heaving over my pulled down bra.
I watch with increasing humiliation as Dark and Handsome administers slap after slap to the sub’s ass, feeling you match each heavy handed stroke on my own tender cheeks. The pain lancing through my skin mingles headily with the ecstatic pleasure running through my clit every time it bounces against the metal. I cannot believe how aroused I am, how utterly helpless I feel. My little voice continues to demand that I shut out these feelings simmering under my skin, but I can’t ignore the heat building in my stomach, stoked by your vicious attention to my now burning ass.
My breath comes hard and fast as I hold my pained cries in. And then you stop for a moment, rustling behind me. The next second, I feel a cool, hard tip press between my pussy lips as the low hum of the dildo’s vibrating attachment touches my sensitive clit. I bite down on the gag as pleasure courses through my body.
You push the head of the dildo between my lips, teasing my wet hotness with little flicks of your wrist, your hand tugging on my erect nipple, your hot groin rubbing against my hip. “Don’t stop watching,” you growl in my ear, running your tongue down my neck and over my shoulder, plunging the dildo deeper into my burning pussy. A dark, forbidden ache explodes between my legs despite my denial.
I watch as Dark and Handsome pushes the massive dildo in and of his slave’s pussy, its dark surface slick with her moisture. She bucks against its length, her clit grinding on the vibrating bullet. She begs for release, pleads to cum. Dark and Handsome only laughs and pulls the dildo out of her pussy, telling her “Patience yet, you haven’t earned that yet.” He climbs onto the altar next to her and pulls her on top of him, his dick once hard again. He pushes her slowly down onto his massive, throbbing cock and she tosses her head back in a carnal groan. He grabs her braid and yanks it back brutally exposing her breasts to the ceiling. The Greek god mounts the altar behind her and pushes her down on top of his twin, caressing her ass while Dark and Handsome slowly pumps in and out of her sopping pussy. The fair twin pulls his own cock out and spits on it, rubbing his shaft with long, languid strokes as he puts a hand possessively on her ass, pulling one cheek to the side as he admires her tight, puckered hole.
She jumps as he touches his finger to her tight hole, her head snapping back with fear. “Oh god, no, not that, please,” she pleads.
“Subs who fail to follow the rules must learn that their purpose and their pleasure is completely in the hands of their Master. I have been lenient too long, little whore. You must be taught a lesson. You must give up everything. I’m not asking,” Dark and Handsome says as he grabs her hips and impales himself deeply in her.
“Do you understand?” he asks with leveled calmness.
“Yes Master,” she replies, shame again dripping from her words.
“That is what you need, Little One,” you whisper in my ear as you circle my clit and rub your groin against my ass checks. “Someone to take care of you, someone to watch out for you. Someone to save your life when you chose to throw it away. I suck in my breath around the ball gag as you run one hand up my gloved right arm and push the satin fabric up, revealing the jagged scar framed by over a dozen dots from the stitches needed to sew my life back together.
“Someone to save you from yourself,” your voice rips though my thoughts as my memories come crashing back. The blood had run hot and warm down my wrist as the icy November wind cut through my flimsy fleece. I’d stood on the bridge’s stonewalls for almost an hour, the rum singing in my veins, pulsing in my ears. Every misery, self-doubt, dark moment, every haunting jeer and joke at my expense kept playing like a broken record in front of me. I’d slit my wrist but figured jumping into the river while completely wasted was a good way to make sure I didn’t make it out of this life alive. But first I wanted to suffer, to really rub my nose in my own failure, my own inability to function like a real human in the real world. I wanted to feel that searing self-loathing one last time, my constant companion all these years.
Then you had rolled up in your black-and-white state trooper SUV, your hands held out in front of you as if to calm a frightened animal. You’d tried to call me back, to convince me to step off the bridge railing and into your arms. You promised you could get me help; you promised you could save me. You told me you couldn’t let me just die.
And all I said was I was sorry before I dove into the icy waters, hoping for purification and forgiveness, my head dizzy from the rum, my eyes blurred from the blood loss. They told me later that you had thrown yourself off the bridge after me, despite your partner’s screamed objections. I don’t remember even hitting the water, but it must have been like icy knives. I do remember you hovering over me as I lay shivering on the ground, the sound of the water rushing by mixing with the blood pounding in my ears. Your voice like gravel, your eyes a shifting hazel, your hair dark and unruly, a mouth that looked like it loved to laugh but was made for kissing, and your hands, strong, lean hands that vigorously rubbed my arms, warming both of us with the friction. Hands designed to discipline, to soothe, to teach, to love.
You drive the vibrating dildo deeper between my lips, letting it slide through my velvety wetness. You groan against my neck as you grab my breast roughly, clutching me against your hardened body. “Don’t you take your eyes off them, Hannah,” you order me roughly, stroking my nipple.
I feel a tide of warmth rising from my pussy and my hips arch to take the dildo more deeply inside of me. I grip the handholds tightly, afraid I might completely lose myself. My little voice is silent, submitting to the undeniable desire coursing through my body. My breath is fevered and fast around the ball gag as you spread my ass crack with one hand, pulling the dildo out for a moment. I feel you slide two fingers into my sopping pussy, gathering the wetness on your skin, before you slowly slide the dildo back between my lips. “That’s right sweet thing, watch them take her as I make you cum.”
The Greek god stuck his fingers into the woman’s mouth, telling her to get them good and wet as he continued to stroke his own cock. Then he pulled her ass cheeks apart, spreading her wide open as Dark and Handsome slowly drove his dick into her pussy. The Greek god pushed one soaking wet finger against her tight hole, slowly sliding it in one knuckle at a time. “Relax,” he murmured as a grimace flitted across her face.
“Relax,” you whisper to me as I stiffen, feeling your warm spit sliding down my own ass crack and your pussy slicked fingers grazing over my own puckered aahole. I shake my head violently, the little voice once again loudly screaming no.
You lean heavy against me, your hand gripping my throat, your breath hot in my ear. “This is going to happen, Hannah. You can either relax and take the pain with the pleasure or you can just take the pain. But make know mistake, your ass is mine.” I hear you pulling something out of your pocket, your body still leaning against mine. You bring your hand up in front of my face, showing me a clear plastic butt plug. “This is going in here,” you say as your other hand slowly inserts a finger against my tense ass hole, sliding in on my juices and your spit. I can’t breath as the discomfort turns to pain. “I don’t even have my first knuckle in Little One,” you whisper. “You have to relax.”
I realize as I hiss in pain that the plug he is holding in front of me is wider than his fingers, flaring out at the base to almost two finger widths. He pushes his finger even deeper into my tight, virgin ass as he puts the butt plug in his mouth, sucking greedily on it next to my ear. He pulls it out with a pop and then withdraws his finger from my tender hole, spitting again down my crack.
“Relax, Little One, surrender to me. I’ll keep you safe, but you have to learn to trust me completely.” Your thumb returns to my clit, slowly grinding me back on to a rising pleasure tide. You slip a finger into my drenched pussy and I rock back and forth against your hand. You step between my legs, biting at my shoulder with your hot mouth, running your tongue over my skin as you press the hard tip of the plug against my sensitive, tight hole, murmuring softly in my ear. You rhythmically push your finger into my wet pussy, flicking my clit with increasing tempo as you slowly, agonizingly push the plug against my ass, turning it in small circles, pulling it out and then pressing it back against my wet, puckered hole.
A masculine groan from the chamber beyond the curtain caught my attention again as I let out a tiny gasp as you pushed the plug a little deeper into my ass. Dark and Handsome pulled the woman hard against his chest, catching her lips with his as he ground his hips against hers. The Greek god slid a second finger deep into her ass and then a third, leveling a quick smack to her bruised cheeks when she stiffened. I could feel my own tight hole stretching painfully around the plug’s shaft, could only imagine how intensely her pain, and pleasure, was with three large fingers pushing deep into her rectum.
I felt myself growing even wetter as I watched her battle with her humiliation and desire, her body violated, every hole abused in front of an audience of men who had their cocks out, pleasuring themselves to her submission. I groaned softly against my gag, trying to remember that I didn’t want this, trying to recover a shred of dignity but you ripped that away from me when you brought the vibrating dildo head back to my pussy, touching the head against my swollen lips. You forced me even more fully over the rail so I barely kept my toes on the ground, my breasts now hanging over my bra cups, bouncing gently against my chest with every push of your hand.
I could feel your eyes slowly devouring my exposed form, my pussy lips wet, sliding over the vibrating dildo, my ass raised up over the rail, the butt plug driving deeper into my core.
Another moan escaped my lips.
“Bite down on the gag if you have to but not another sound or I will give you to them,” you say harshly in my ear as you push the plug even further into my ass, forcing me to bite down on the gag to keep from screaming in pain and pleasure.
I felt like my nerves were on fire, my pussy hot and sensitive to your touch, my ass aching in acceptance of the brutal invasion. I wanted more; I needed more. I bucked against your hand. I could feel the mounting surge of pleasure, could not believe the exquisite pain and ecstasy I felt as you penetrated my ass and pussy simultaneously. I was so close, so close, on the edge of reality. “Next lesson, Little One,” you murmur, “You don’t cum unless I say so.” You pull the plug out of my ass with a sucking sound and slow the rhythm of the dildo in my pussy. I feel my on-coming orgasm diminish and I feel an emptiness, a dirty need, in my ass. “And I won’t fuck you until you beg for it. Which you can’t do with a gag in your mouth.” You chuckle.
As if on cue, the Greek god demands the woman beg for it, beg for his cock in her ass. “Say it,” he says firmly, his hand once again stroking his dick.
“Please Sir, please, fuck me in the ass with your cock,” she cries out as Dark and Handsome drives himself more fully into her pussy.
“Good girl,” he says, kissing her roughly on the mouth as he raises her ass up so Greek god could mount her.
You’ve started sliding the dildo in and out of my pussy again, turning up the speed on the vibrator, but I feel only a mounting frustration. I was so close just a moment ago and now my pussy is so sensitive I can’t get the dildo deep enough. And I can feel the throbbing ache in my ass, begging for more. I wanted to scream in frustration. You push me down against the rail, slamming the dildo in and out of my abused pussy. You yank my head back, forcing me to look in front of me.
The Greek god rubs his dick’s head against the sub’s hole, pushing in and out slowly, listening to her agonized cries of pleasure mingled with pain. Her moans twist my own lust and desire even deeper and I grind my hips against the dildo. You laugh softly, and then I feel the hard plastic tip of the plug pressing against my puckered hole, my breath catching in anticipation. You kiss my shoulder, turning the vibrator on full speed, pushing me back to the edge with every deep thrust of the dildo.
I watch as the Greek god slowly slides his dick further into her ass before dragging it out and then pushing in even deeper, all the while Dark and Handsome thrusting into her from underneath. Her strangled cries of pained ecstasy drive me to a breaking point. I continue to grind against the dildo, wishing with silent humiliation that I could beg you for release. You slip the tip of the butt plug into my already tightening hole, teasing me before you pull it out again. I feel as if I’m going to split apart at the seams as my breasts bouncing against my chest, cold air slipping across my taught nipples; my hands and arms stretched out in front of me, useless; the dildo deep inside my pussy, the vibrations massaging my clit in a frenzied dance as you run the tip of the plug around the rim of my asshole, spitting once again onto its puckered surface.
The woman throws her head back in a carnal scream as the Greek god loses control and slams his cock deep into her tight anus. He grabs her tits, kneading them with aggressive fury as he matches Dark and Handsome’s fervent tempo. I watch as the fair twin completely mounts her from behind like a dog, his body entwining fully with his lovers, the edges of where he ends and they begin blurring.
I feel myself at the precipice again, waiting to fall again into the river, into your spell. My orgasm builds with an intensity I’ve never known, waiting to be unleashed. But no matter how hard I fuck the dildo I can’t find release. And then you say it, what I need to hear.
“Cum for me, Little One,” you whisper in my ear, pushing the dildo all the way to the hilt inside of my wet pussy as the plug prods the outside of my slicked asshole.
I want to cum. God I need to come.
I watch as Dark and Handsome grabs the sub’s hips and buries himself deep inside her pussy while the Greek god slams his dick fully into her now gaping asshole, pushing his face into her hair as her squeezes her breasts.
I can see the orgasm start to sweep over them. Her last scream of utter, deranged ecstasy covers my own as you shove the butt plug all the way to the base into my tight, sensitive ass, throwing me over the edge as the dildo plunges in and out of my pussy. I forget to bite down as stars explode in front of my eyes and liquid fire burns down through my toes.
I go limp, losing hold of the grips, almost falling over the rail, but there you are again. Ready to catch me. Ready to save me. You rapidly loosen the ropes, unstrap the ball gag, and ease me to the floor. You kiss the top of my head tenderly.
“I’ll be watching you Hannah,” are the last words you say as you disappear through the curtains. I realize a moment later you weren’t wearing a mask.