The Masked Ball

Tina Strong was driving home from college to spend the long Labor Day weekend with her family. She hadn't seen them since Christmas break, and was looking forward to spending time with her Mom and Dad and little sister. It was a little after eleven on Friday night and she was driving just a little too fast down the country road, her windshield wipers barely keeping ahead of the downpour. Her radio blared as she leaned forward again to wipe the fog from the inside of the windshield.

She saw the tree looming before her and jerked the wheel to the left, slamming on the brakes. She felt the car begin to fishtail, then spin, and closed her eyes to wait for the crash. The car tilted as it ran down into a roadside ditch, and then came to a sudden stop as the grill and hood burrowed into the muddy bank.

Tina sat stunned and checked herself for injury. Nothing was broken, but she ached all over and the car was definitely dead. She noticed water leaking into the car so she tried to open the door to escape but it was stuck fast. She unbuckled her seatbelt and screamed as she pounded on the window of the car door, unable to see anything outside in the darkness.

She felt the car move as the rushing water pushed it sideways and with a wrenching sound the car jounced around and began to roll backward as the water forced it along. Tina tried again and again to open the door with no luck, and pounded frantically on the window.

Taking a deep breath, she smashed at the window with her elbow and screamed in pain and rage when it had no effect other than to hurt like hell. As she held her elbow and cried, Tina reached down and took hold of the handle and turned. The window rolled down. Screaming again, this time in triumph, Tina scrambled through the window and up onto the roof of her slowly moving car. She could vaguely make out the edges of the ditch on either side, and saw the rushing water that was pushing her car along.

Stealing herself, Tina planted her sneakers against the top of the car door and leaped. She landed with a grunt in the mud, her legs in water from the knees down. She crawled and climbed, pulling herself through the thick, clay-like mud. Twice she slid all the way back down to the water, but on the third attempt she was able to grab onto a root sticking out of the ground near the top, and she pulled herself up and out of the ditch.

She lay there for a long time, letting the torrential downpour wash over her, hoping it was washing away the mud. But even as she started to drift to sleep, she realized how cold she was, and scrambled to her feet. She searched herself for her cell phone before remembering that she had left it on the passenger seat. Her car had rolled another twenty yards down the ditch, and there was no way she was going to attempt that climb again.

Her white sweater was one of her favorites, but at that moment it was cold, and heavy with the rain, ditch water, and mud. She pulled it off over her head and dropped it to the ground. A bolt of lightning lit the sky, and Tina made out the road nearby. She had no idea of which way was which, so she hugged herself tightly and staggered along the center line.

To Tina, the world became a dark, wet place. She staggered along the road, her body lashed by the wind-driven rain, and wished she could clamp her hands over her ears to block out the scream of the wind and the roar of the thunder. She felt like she had walked for hours, and that this horrible night would never end. Tina fell to her knees and began to cry in great shuddering sobs.

She looked up into the night, and as another bolt of lightning lit the world, she made out the shadowy form of a large house up on the hillside. It was dark, but even if it was deserted, she reasoned, she could break in and get warm. She staggered to her feet again and ran toward the house. Her way was blocked by a fifteen-foot tall wall with wrought iron spikes at the top, so she followed the wall until she came to the large, wrought iron gate at the driveway.

Tina pushed and pulled at the immense metal gates, but they wouldn't budge. She walked around the gates, looking for a call box or some kind of intercom, but found nothing. Thinking to try to squeeze through the bars, she returned to the gate and found them open about a foot. She squeezed between the gates and ran up the gravel driveway past trees and shrubs before coming to the house.

The house was old and dark. It was wooden and four stories tall, and as a flash of lightning lit the house she was reminded of a childhood trip to Disneyland. This house reminded her of the Haunted Mansion, except that it was much, much larger. She trudged up the steps onto the porch, where the wind whipped at her, but she was thankfully protected from the driving rain.

She pushed the doorbell button and waited a few minutes before grabbing a huge gargoyle-faced brass knocker and she let it drop against the door with a boom. Moments later, one of the doors opened and an old man, bent with age and holding a candelabrum peeked out. "Please, my dear, you must come in," the old man said as he stepped back. Tina rushed inside and the old man closed the door.

She stood in a large room with marble floors and wood paneled walls. Two giant staircases rose on either side of the room, meeting at a landing that was above a pair of large dark wooden doors on the other end of the room. It was silent, except for the "tock" of an old grandfather clock and the squelch of her sneakers.

The old man was dressed in a fine old-fashioned butler's uniform. He was bald on top, with wispy white hair on the sides and in back, and large mutton chop sideburns. He looked to be in his seventies, and quite frail. He stepped in front of Tina and held up the candelabra. "The Master is entertaining. Please wait here for a few minutes and I will return," he said in a wheezing, raspy voice.

"Please, if I could just borrow your phone," Tina called after him as he shambled to the large dark doors.

"I'm sorry Miss," he said without stopping, "we lost the telephones when we lost the power, dratted storm."

Tina stood and shivered, listening to the clock and the dripping of water as it fell from her to the marble floor. Great, she thought to herself, here I am in a spooky old house with a bunch of rich people, and I'm wearing a t-shirt, jeans and sneakers, dripping wet, and covered in mud. Tina walked over to the clock and squinted in the darkness at its face. 2:30 in the morning. Lovely.

The clock read 2:50 when the old butler appeared on the landing at the top of the stairs. "Please, Miss," he rasped, "follow me." She went up the stairs, shoes squelching on the Oriental rug over the dark wooden stairs. When she reached the top, the butler lead the way down a hallway, then up another flight of stairs, and another, before leading her down a hallway and to a room. He opened the door and waved her inside.

There was a huge brass canopied bed covered in white linens and a comforter with a pink floral pattern. A bedside table, rugs on the hardwood floor, a wooden dresser and wardrobe and a dressing table with a large oval mirror and a chair all painted white, all with delicate pink roses along the accents. They made the room seem like a dream room for a little girl. All that's missing, Tina thought, is a collection of horses.

He opened the other door in the room and waved her inside. She peeked in and saw it was a bathroom with a tile floor, a small toilet with the tank up near the ceiling and a pull chain flush, and a huge white bathtub with clawed feet. The tub was filled with steaming water with little pink rose petals floating in it, and Tina felt tears in her eyes. "Please feel free to use any of the clothes in the dresser or wardrobe. When you are ready, ring the bell on the bedstand," the butler rasped, and left.

Tina pulled off her t-shirt and dropped it into a wicker basket that had been painted white. She stepped out of her ruined sneakers without untying them, and then peeled off the wet denim jeans, grimacing as the sand and mud scraped her soft skin. She took off her bra and threw her jeans and bra into the basket. She sat on the toilet and took off her socks and tossed them into the basket, then stood and pulled off her panties. A quick look at her cold, pale, wrinkled skin, and she stepped into the hot water and sat down.

She lay back until her entire body was under the water, and then sat up a little until her face broke the surface. The warm water felt like a lover caressing her entire body, massaging, relaxing her totally. She could feel her long blond hair relaxing and separating, becoming clean and straight again. Tina lay there a long time, until any hint of her chill was gone.

Her eyes snapped open and she started, sending water spilling over the edge of the tub and onto the white tile. She stood and took a soft towel from the silver bar on the wall. Wrapping the soft towel around herself, she stepped carefully onto the cool tile, then took another and wrapped her hair. Her skin was pink from the hot water, and deliciously sensitive to the air.

Tina sat at the dressing table and took her hair down. She toweled the wetness from it and brushed it out with an elegant silver brush. She looked at herself in the mirror, her drying blond hair, shot through with brown, her large blue eyes, soft round jaw line. Her nose was small and straight, slightly upturned at the end. No bruises, no damage.

She went to the dresser and opened the top drawer, finding a pair of white silk panties, trimmed in ivory lace. She slipped them on, and found herself aroused by the cool soft fabric brushing her thighs, and settling against her bottom and sex. The second drawer held a matching camisole with spaghetti straps, which she slipped on over her head. When the silk brushed her nipples they came alive and made her breasts ache. I have got to start wearing better underwear, she thought to herself.

The third and last drawer held a pair of pink silk stockings, topped with ivory lace and each having a single red ribbon around the top. She sat back in the dressing table chair and bunched her toes, then pushed her foot into a stocking. Her heart skipped a beat and she held her breath as the silk brushed her leg, and she pulled it up. Tina was a little surprised that it only came an inch or so above her knee, but she guessed these clothes were from an older time, when skirts didn't show that much leg. She pulled on the other stocking a little more slowly, savoring the sensation. When she stood the stockings began to slip, but she found that if she pulled the ribbon tight and then tied it, they acted as garters.

Tina then walked to the wardrobe and opened the doors. Inside she saw a dress on a wooden hanger, and on the floor a pair of shoes. Tina took out the white dress and laid it out on the bed. It was satin with row after row of tassels hanging over each other in waves. She pulled the dress on over her head and adjusted the thin white straps so they lay over the straps from her camisole. The hemline was an inch above her knee but hidden by the last row of tassels, which fell to just below her knees.

Tina looked at herself in the mirror, and the only break from the illusion that she was a 1920's socialite was her long blond hair. In the movies she had seen, Tina remembered the women always wore their hair short. Or maybe up. She ran to the dressing table and searched until she found a box of hairpins, and with a little experimentation she had her hair up perfectly.

She opened another box and found lipstick and rouge, and a wad of black ribbon. She carefully applied the soft pink lipstick, and then rouged her cheeks before unwrapping the black ribbon. It was a beautiful cameo, and she fastened it around her throat. It centered perfectly under her chin, and Tina was taken by her own beauty.

She had always considered herself pretty, but the woman looking back at her from the mirror was beautiful. She could be a model, or an actress. She was exactly the kind of woman that she herself had always envied.

Tina took the shoes from the wardrobe and sat to put them on. They were white, like the dress, with pointed toes and large clunky heels 3 inches high. They were comfortable until she stood, when her feet were pinched by the stiff shoes. She picked up the silver bell next to the bed and had rung it once when the door opened and a young woman dressed in a maid's uniform stepped in. She stood with her hands together in front of her, her eyes on the floor.

Christina's chin rose slightly and she said, "Take me to the Master."

She followed the maid down several hallways and stairs, intrigued by the way the maid's hips and full, round bottom swayed under her black skirt. She had never been attracted to another woman before, and this woman was no beauty, yet she couldn't take her eyes off of her swaying bottom.

The maid paused before a set of oak doors, then opened them and stood aside to let Christina enter. She stepped out onto a landing with a stairway leading down to the ballroom. There was a gigantic table laden with fruit and vessels with steaming foods. In the center was an enormous roast pig, an apple in its mouth. Twenty people were seated around the table, looking up at her in silence. They were dressed in the finest clothes of a dozen eras. The men wore black, from the ruffles and lace of the seventeenth and eighteenth century, waistcoats and tails of the nineteenth century, and the white tie and tails of the early twentieth century. The women wore black and dark red dresses, elegant ball gowns of the past. In her simple 1920's dress, Christina felt like a traveler from the future. And all of the guests wore masks. Smooth white masks that covered the upper face for the men, beautiful golden masks that covered only the eyes for the women.

As she descended the stairs, Christina watched as the man seated in the largest chair at the head of the table rose and glided across the floor to meet her at the bottom. He was tall and dashing and wore a fine suit of dark red silk and velvet with a white lace cravat, and tails. His hair was black, long and wavy, and pulled back in a ponytail. His mask was black and shiny.

He took her hand and kissed it, then bowed and said, "Daniel du Mond, at your service, my Lady..."

"Christina," she whispered, in awe of the man and his powerful presence. Her hand burned where he had kissed it, and she felt a flush run through her breasts. He turned and presented her to the group. "The Lady Christina," he announced, and the room filled with polite applause.

He led her to his seat, and waved her to sit in the empty chair beside his. After he seated himself, a servant filled the crystal goblet nearest her with a deep red wine.

"It has been too long since one of our gatherings has been graced by new life. You shall be our guest of honor tonight," Daniel announced and the room exploded with applause. Christina sipped at the wine she was given and found it was heavier than she was used to, and had a pleasant coppery taste.

She was served the finest food she had ever seen or tasted, and while she tried to be as polite as she could, she found herself tearing into the feast with gusto. She was bent over her silver plate with a bit of roast fowl hanging from her lip when she glanced up and saw Daniel watching her, a smile on his lips. She wiped the meat from her face and sat up straight, embarrassed to her core.

"Never fear, my darling girl," Daniel said soothingly, "a feast is to be consumed. We are all friends here, and we all share a common interest. Ourselves." Daniel laughed and the table exploded into laughter with him. "You see, we are a bit of a club, as it were, and you are welcome to join. There are many desires that a body has, whether it be hunger, thirst, lust for the arts, or lust for the flesh. Our club believes that we should do whatever it takes to fulfill those desires."

Again the table erupted into applause, and Christina found herself feeling hot and disoriented. She had heard of sex parties, and had been intrigued by the idea, but to have stumbled onto one by accident was amazing.

Daniel stood and took Christina by the hand. He led her across the room and clapped his hands together. Men rushed into the room carrying chairs and instruments, and they quickly set them up. They sat and began to play a delightful tune. Daniel swept Christina into his arms and danced her across the floor, whirling and laughing. She found herself laughing and shouting in spite of herself as she danced an unfamiliar dance with this total stranger in the lead. Other dancers filled the floor, and soon they were all close together, whirling and swaying, dancing with abandon.

Christina looked over and saw a titanic man, obscenely obese too the point that the brass buttons on his waistcoat threatened to pop off. He had a neatly trimmed full red beard, and wore his red hair up in a ponytail that made Christina think of Thomas Jefferson. The giant was swinging a much smaller woman around, occasionally pulling her in and crushing her against his girth. His great meaty hand came to rest on the little brunette's bosom, and with seemingly no effort at all he tore away her dress, leaving her standing in her white silk stockings, bloomers, and corset.

The music and the dancing stopped. Daniel walked over to the giant and said, "Devlin, you are the first to disrobe your partner, so the honor of the party requires your gift in return." The big man smiled, and the party gathered around him. His mouth opened and out of that giant man came a sweet soprano voice. He sang an aria in tones so clear, notes so beautiful, Christina had tears in her eyes without even knowing what he sang about, or even the language he was singing in.

When he finished the room applauded for a long time, and Daniel pulled Christina close to him. "My darling," he whispered into her ear, "as the host, it is my duty to now disrobe my partner." He winked at her and continued, "I'm afraid, my dear girl, that that would be you." And before she could even open her mouth to protest, Daniel took hold of the front of her beautiful dress and ripped it from her. She stood in shock, facing the group of party guests as they let their eyes run over her, and felt Daniel grab her camisole and pretty silk panties from behind and they too were ripped away.

The room exploded into bedlam as the party guests cheered and applauded her body, now wearing only her cameo, stockings and shoes. Daniel grabbed her hands and began to whirl her around and around as the music began to play again. A flush of embarrassment spread over her pale skin, and she became acutely aware of her breasts bouncing freely as she danced.

She saw that others, men and women alike were being stripped of their clothes, and soon more than half of the dancers were in various states of undress, several were totally nude. As they danced they kicked aside torn and ruined articles of clothing even as the servants darted in and grabbed them up.

When the music stopped, Daniel led Christina back to the table and handed her a fresh goblet of wine, which she drank quickly. He then led her over near the grand fireplace and to a strange velvet covered seat. It was higher than most chairs, and had no back or arms. It was shaped vaguely like a saddle, but far too wide to straddle. Daniel leaned her against the soft velvet and grasped her hips, lifting her up and placing her on her belly over the seat. Christina's legs barely touched the floor, and the gentle slope of the seat pushed her bottom into the air, exposing her bottom and her sex for all to see, while her breasts and upper body hung off of the other end, similarly outthrust and displayed.