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Bal Masque

Two strangers indulge in their ultimate fantasy, submission and dominance.

This world,  someone once explained to me, made you feel alive, lit your body on fire, and transcended any sense of reality.  I see it in the eyes of masked women, eyelashes fluttering and not nervously but arousing fascinated by the scene. I tug at the hem of my black silk robe aware of his eyes on me. He's watched me the entire evening a physical hand of ownership I've tried to ignore. I came alone. The invitation required masks and discretion both of which I provided.  This is extremely outside of my comfort zone but a consistent fixture in my fantasies, ones I still blush head to toe from. 

I listen distractedly to the moans emanating throughout the open space, the marble floors rejecting the sound with a loud echo. I breathe shallowly,  affected.  Heat travels up my spine but I refuse to walk over and watch. I'm permanently plastered to a wall closest to the door still debating escape. Hearing the sounds of skin slapping and those masculine groans that make my toes curl, I close my eyes to seek composure. 

"Stay." A voice resounds above me, deep and tinted with an infatuating gravely tone. I open my eyes slowly, my heart a rapid beat against my ribcage hammering with anxiety. Glancing over at my hand wrapped soundly around the rod iron door handle, I uncurl each finger from the decorative curve. 

"Nervous?" he asks as I finally find him leaning casually against the wall next to me. A dark gray stares back at me beneath the black silk mask he's adorning measuring me in a knowing way.  A hand is wrapped around a tumbler of whiskey while the other curls gently around mine and I soften next him.


He smirks squeezing my hand as an answer. 

"Cole," he offers. 

"Isabelle. It's nice to meet you." It sounds so childish considering our venue but I say it anyway.

"You're beautiful, Isabelle." He turns to me then, before blocking my view. His suit smells freshly cleaned an onyx tuxedo that complements his eyes,  brightens them, with the lapels defined by black silk. My fingers dance against my thighs.  I want to touch him.

"Thank you."

"Your modesty is something to be admired." He tugs playfully at the tie of my robe. I'm the only one covered. The rest of the women are either naked or in lingerie. I'm not that comfortable yet. 

"I'm not used to being naked in front of a crowd." Only with one man and so my nerves fired anxiously at the thought but a small part of me wanted it. That man once told me my general delicate nature always made him hard because I blossomed beneath him in bed begging for depraved things, vulgar with language and my desires. I wanted my limits pushed and he obeyed.

"Do you trust me?" he whispers against my ear, his hands settled at my waist.  I shiver at his touch before breathing a panted yes.  He pulls me across the massive dining room and into the living room cleared of furniture for this evenings event. String lights hung from the ceiling intertwined with wings of white chiffon hang elegantly. I smile. I love the ethereal romance blanketing such dirty acts. Winding through small crowds of people some brazenly pleasuring each other kneeled and servicing, I inch closer to Cole who confidently leads the way. He draws me in front of him his hands falling possessively on my shoulders and I can feel his chin at the back of my head.  It feels good to be claimed, more stable. He picked the perfect time to approach as my anxiety simmers. 

We watch as two couples fuck in front of us and it's feral with their clawing hands and rapid thrusts.  One man holds a woman's body by her hair completely in control of her and his speed.  God I love that exact position and as if Cole read my mind, his hand flirts with the skin of my exposed chest dancing over the curve of my hip before riding up my thigh and under my panties. I try to frantically look around but Cole's other hand grips my jaw. 

"No," he orders sternly.  "Just watch them and pretend it's only you and me."

I battle with the panic and the conflict I feel, knowing people have moved their attention to me. He holds my jaw in place so I have no choice but to watch while his fingers massage my clit. I watch the man take her by her hair and drag her to her knees. My sex throbs violently beneath his deft fingers. 

"You're close already," he informs more than he asks.  He knows.

I whimper in acquiescence trying shamelessly to move my hips so I can ride his fingers.  I need them inside me.  Of course he knows this and slides two fingers into me torturously slow. I whine and arch as he hooks them into me massaging until I can barely stand.

"Please," I beg but he refuses to answer, he denies me any release but pushes me to edge continuously, dip and climb, wave after wave.  I feel the audience shift their attention.

"They prefer you over her,  the modest woman, the quiet one screaming for me to fuck her." I dig my nails into his arm and grit my teeth seeking desperately my release but he pulls out of me then. He knew. Such talent and awareness he used knowing I'd do damn near anything for him to finish me off. My insecurity with people watching dissipated, in fact it turned me on even more now. I wanted them to watch.

Cole moves in front of me, untying my robe and taking the silk rope into his pocket. It falls to the floor and pools around my heels. He rakes his eyes down my body before meeting my eyes with a look of approval. I love that look. I like pleasing him. His hands curl beneath the straps of my black lace bra and drags them down my arms. He then unhooks the back and we both watch a piece of my modesty descend. My nipples harden beneath the cool air and everyone's fixed gazes. I feel a sharp sting as he rips my panties off,  the pain melting into the pleasure and intensifying it. His fingers run over my red skin tenderly until he slaps it. I yelp until he rubs it again. Sadist.

"Stay," he orders as I watch him turn and stand at the center of the room. Magnificent is all I can think,  majestic, dominant. He's so tall and overpowering with his presence. I see the other women watching him subconsciously licking their lips. He points a finger to the floor and I lower myself to my knees. Everyone's transfixed. The night has turned more seductive, more mentally arousing. This is his game, I'm the only player and they are the lucky audience. Cole watches me exerting his authority simply by making me wait for further instruction.  With a smirk, he calls me forward with his finger. He wants me to crawl. It's a challenge. I love this game.

On my hands and knees, I crawl to him and I can see his eyes burn with admiration. I feel no insecurity being naked in front of everyone. The way Cole looks at me like I'm the most beautiful woman in the world shatters that. I stop at his feet naked before him as he's completely dressed. This is submission,  I thought with a smile. It's at the feet of someone while overcoming your ego and modesty with the only purpose to obey. And I knew he adored the fact that we had an audience. It made it common knowledge, a concrete fact that I was his.  I obeyed him. I transformed to indecency. I became his naughty little girl. Only. For. Him.

He bends and ties my wrists with my familiar silk, pulling at the knot so my hands rake the floor as I curl over my knees. He walks behind me then and spanks me five consecutive times,  the pain building and bursting on the fifth as it inflames my entire body. My body throbs violently with my restless pleasure and visceral pain. They combine until I'm absolutely desperate for him to drive into me,  touch me,  or fuck me. I'll take anything but he stands before me watching me endure it.

"Please," I beg.

"Please what, Isabelle?"

"Please fuck me. I need you."

"Earn it then."

People gasp,  I see smiles of approval,  and I'm so wet I'm sure everyone can see his effect. I sit up on my knees and raise my tied wrists. My fingers work at his belt and then his zipper until I free him.  Relief at one less obstacle rages through me as I take him into my mouth. I want to make him proud. I want to make the other men and women envious so I take him deep into my throat fighting my gag reflex before pulling away.

"Good girl."

That does me in. I place my hands on my lap and look up under hooded lashes. He understands that look.  Use me,  it says. He does. His hands tangle into my hair as he drives into me. I feel his thumbs caressing my temples and I soften more beneath him. I want to so fervently to touch myself but I want him to have my pleasure,  every single lascivious groan of it. 

Pulling out of mouth, he jerks me up from my wrists and throws me over a mahogany coffee table. Pinning my arms above my head he teases my ear with his teeth while he runs his cock against my sex. I writhe.

"Are you ready for me to own you?" he asks and I smile against the wood beneath my cheek. 

"You already do." 

A growl erupts from his throat, pure appreciation and domination, as he thrusts into me. I arch against him as pleasure invades every cell of my body. He fucks me hard and through the lace of my mask, I see their looks of envy but moreso a knowing tenderness. They're like us. They know the beauty of submission, pain, and dominance. They see it in us. 

My ass stings against his violent thrusts, and I'm sure his fingers will leave bruises at my hips but I don't care. I want any mark he can give me. I want to wear each mark with pride for him. I hear the restraint of our audience snapping, growls and the shocked gasps of women as they take them. The sounds of their moans follow and I transcend everything. I feel like I'm floating. I feel weightless and when Cole winds his hand around and pinches my clit telling me to come for him, I do. The room explodes behind my eyes into a million colored fireworks as I watch paralyzed, stuck in such extreme pleasure I can't breathe. Sweat trails my chest and I shiver with the sensation.I feel the sting of my scalp as he pulls me up against him. I can't help but bite his throat with my teeth as he comes. There's my mark.

Collapsing back against the table, I pant trying to catch my breath. I try to move my limp body but can't summon the energy until I feel Cole help me up. He sets me on the table as he fixes himself and then goes to the side of the room and gathers a wet washcloth from an attendant. Coming back, he kneels at my feet and wipes tenderly the inside of my thighs. I watch him wanting to cry. He wanted everyone to know he owned me as he fucked me but kneeled now to tell them I owned him just as much if not more. I run my fingers through his hair as he looks up and offers a boyish smile. 

"You're mine," he mouths looking only at me. 

"I'm yours," I mouth back before he stands me up and helps with my robe. No one asks either of us to play with them. They just watch and smile as we walk by. 

"Thank you," I tell him as I press a soft kiss to his cheek. He just nods with a smirk before descending the front stairs and into the back of a car. I see my own driver pull up and get in. The drive to the hotel doesn't take long. I'm exhausted but glad for the pitch black of night. I'm sure I'm smiling like a foolish idiot but I don't care. It is one of the best nights of my life. I hit the privacy window and change into jeans and a sweater before we pull up to the hotel lobby. Not many people are lingering as I enter the elevator and go up to my room. I take a deep breath before applying my thumb to the penthouse suite door waiting anxiously as it registers. I hear my husband showering before I join him. 

Sitting at the vanity, I watch my husband approach from behind eyeing him with a smile. 

"Happy Anniversary, Mrs. Harris." 

"Happy Anniversary, Cole," I reply as he takes my lips against his. 

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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