Obedience (part seven) - Bal Masque

March 7

Black lingerie in frothy lace. Garter belts, attached by buckles. A flowing, translucent nightie. Silver flat shoes.

A stunning eye mask with pearls. A huge feather for your hair. Women come to do your makeup, your curls, your nails; even making your hands and feet soft and tender. Theo comes to fasten your collar, the moonstone humming with your connection.

He’s in a fitted suit that shimmers like the gem, his tie a perfect match in shade to the maroon collar. He’s has a black cane that shines, a gold tip atop to match his pin, which—you realize with a jolt—is made of your entwined initials.

His mask is red, with small, gold-tipped horns in his hair. It reveals his luscious mouth, which curves into a smile.

“Come with me,” he says, and you do, gladly.

The waiting car is no surprise.

The mansion it pulls up to, with other folks alighting in a mix of masquerade formality and kink wear, is. The house is a statement at night, with lanterns illuminating the Palladian cream. Flower petals rain from the roof.

Dancing is an understatement. The room is awash with happy revelry, cider and wine and liquor. Waitstaff scurries with platters of delicacy. Two thrones wait at the top, one of lacquered black, the other, smaller, in pale white marble. On a stage, a gagged woman is spanked, her cheeks flushed, her wild curls beauteous.

“My dove,” says Theo. “What would you like?”

You eye the stage and flush, unable to voice the request. “Some wine, please, Master.”

He beckons a nearby server, who pours you a crystal goblet. Master takes a few oysters on a small plate, feeding them to you with care.

You dance. There’s something in and of that music, something wonderful, freeing. Strange women touch you affectionately.

“You landed him after all!” The blond from a few days earlier is stunning in silver beads and lace. “I’d so hoped you would!”

“I like him,” you say, suddenly shy. “He pushes me—“

“Master Theo, everyone!”

The room bursts into applause as the MC shakes Theo’s hand.

“Is it true you have a performance for us?”

Theo chortles. “Only if the lady has no objection.” He motions you to him, and he nods to the stage. “May I spank you?”

You can say no and you know it, but you don’t.

You take his hand and he leads you up, blindfolding you and putting you in stocks. He spanks you to thunderous cheers and calls. You’re dripping, drenched, and he stops to finger you into orgasm.

“Why don’t you thank all the nice people watching,” he suggests slyly.

“Please don’t stop!” You cry out. A few laughs come from the audience. You explode to shouts and cheers. Theo unhooks you and brings you water, cleaning you backstage.

“That was beautifully done,” says Angelica, appearing from nowhere and fixing your lipstick. “Did you enjoy it?” She smiles. “Nevermind. The look on your face is more than enough… for now.” She kisses your cheek.

More revelry. You’re on cloud nine. At the time of midnight, the MC announces the pair of you’ve won for “best performance”. Theo leads you to the thrones.

A beautiful crowd convalesces upon you both. Master’s pants are opened; a woman sucks him off as he sucks someone else’s nipples. Countless hands pull open your tied nightie to touch you until you’re near orgasm, eventually tying your hands behind your back and putting you on top of master’s hard cock.

“Good slave,” he says softly, and fucks you for the party…. Or for him…. Or for you.

Tonight, you think it’s all of the above.