The Masquerade of 1900

The first one opened into a sitting room. The Sphinx saw that each chair was seated by a man who had his legs open and pants off. Each one was paired with a woman -- or in one case another man -- who sucked their cocks in eerily rhythmic strokes. The entire group of them, twelve in all (plus a thirteenth, female, who masturbated in the corner) was synchronized though no music played to keep time; you could only faintly hear the screeching violins emanating from the ballroom. As he backed out again, he saw the woman in the corner plunge four bunched fingers inside her wet sex.

"Obviously not," he cried, and they went to the next one in the row. Siren was dragging behind him, her feet often getting crossed and her eyes slipping away into dreamland. He was exceedingly alarmed for her, but felt certain if they could get out of here, if they could just make it into the fresh night air and away from this house of carnality...

The second room was a library with books, leather chairs, a vast mahogany desk, and a spiral staircase of wrought iron that ascended to another floor above -- this having even more books and chairs scattered around a tasteful wraparound balcony. On the desk a woman leaned, entirely naked except a wild headdress styled after the Indians of America that he had only read about. Her face was hidden by a buffalo's head; the eyes were semi-transparent cut glass. She screamed for pleasure or pain as a man beat her exposed backside with a leather whip. The Sphinx gasped to see the red welts in crisscrossed rows on the milky flesh of her thighs and buttocks. He took a moment to notice that another women sat with her back against the desk, between the first lady's legs; she had her head tilted back so her tongue could lap greedily at the glistening folds of the beaten woman's open pussy.

Around the balcony above, the chairs were filled with copulating couples and trios of all manners. One of the men wore a cloak with nothing underneath. A woman tugged urgently on his cock, and his jism leaped forth through the bars of the safety railing and spattered in fat white drops on the rug below. A girl who sat nearby, and couldn't be out of her late teenaged years, scurried over on all fours like a cat and licked it up. When she noticed the visitors in the doorway, she smiled and shook her torso; her bare breasts swung back and forth like the balls in a Newton's Cradle.

The Sphinx exited hastily, and found that his Siren had slumped against the wall beside him. Her dress was hiked up and she had her hand inside her underwear. The silk tented outward as her knuckles pushed at it. She pushed both knees up higher and smiled languidly, head lolling. He heard inviting wet sounds coming from where her hand played, and found it hard not to take her on the cold tile floor. Somehow, he found the will.

"Don't wanna," she muttered as he pulled her to her feet again, and gingerly removed her hand from her sex.

"We're so near," he promised her. "So near to getting out of here and taking you home. Come on then."

The third door was strangest of all of them -- painted entirely black, even down to its shining handle and lock. It was less ornately carved than the other doors, and something about it was strikingly ominous, even given the tenor of the entire masquerade. But he grasped the handle regardless, and finding it unlocked, pushed it open.

It seemed to him then that the air was sucked out of his lungs. He struggled to breathe, and found that the room they'd entered was thick with the sweet, perfumed smell of burning incense. A fire was lit and it roared and cracked; there was no other light source, and so the entire room was a murk of dark shadows and the faint orange light between.

On the big, heavy bed was their host. He had his little costume partly off, and a woman with indigo-painted skin rode him violently. All around these two was a writhing mass of bodies, as many as would fit on the bed and more besides. They spilled off onto the floor; they fucked on the blankets and on the carpet and in chairs against the walls of the dark bedroom. And in one corner stood a towering gentlemen who, it seemed to The Sphinx, was dressed to match their tiny host. He was concealed in shadow, but there was no mistaking the ornately-curled black horns, or the red tint of his suit. He stood very still, his long fingers wrapped around his own long, dark prick and slowly moving up and down its length.

"My God."

The host looked up. There was sweaty, pale skin showing around his eyes; it was the only part of his face visible behind the mask, along with the bloodshot eyeballs themselves. "God? Who says that about God? We don't mention his name here!"

The Sphinx stepped forward, lurching sickeningly. His Siren was clutching at his leg; she'd gone down into a sitting position once again. "Please. Please. Can you tell us... where the exit is. We want to go."

The indigo woman went right on bouncing on his small member. He grinned widely. "No one leaves the masquerade once it's begun."

"Can you tell us... can you tell..." He was getting lost in his own mind. He looked down again at an insistent tugging, and saw that Siren had his pants open and was fondling his cock with her hand. "Can you tell me my name?"

"No one here has names. You drank yours." He thrust upward, groaning, and the woman on top of him accepted his seed with a cry of pleasure. He appeared to relax afterward, but the blue woman kept right on thrusting up and down, breasts bouncing. Even her nipples were painted blue, Sphinx noticed.

"I want... I want it back. Oh God!" Siren had taken him in her mouth; her tongue curled wetly around his cock's head and the muscles of her mouth tightened on his shaft. "Siren, my Musician, my darling... no. Stop!"

"Too late," the little devil admonished. "What's this girl to you, anyway? You don't know her. We're all strangers here. Strangers joined in lust. Isn't that right, love?" He slapped the thigh of the woman mounted on him, who kept right on obliviously.

"I know her. I know." He stopped for an agonizing moment and squirted hot liquid down her hungry throat. "Siren, oh my God."

"Well, you did it now," the little man muttered darkly. In the corner, his giant doppelganger was moving more than just his hand now. He took three long steps into the flickering firelight. It was clear now that he wore no suit at all -- rather his skin was painted red like the indigo woman. Or was that paint? The Sphinx squinted in confusion. The man's hands were long, tipped with black nails that were heavy and curled around at the tips like ram's horns. His mask was horrific -- but it was impossible to tell the seams where it merged with the red paint.

"On the bed, girl," the host bid Siren, and she clumsily did as she was told, falling onto her stomach with her feet still on the floor. Women to either side of her lifted her skirts up and pulled her underwear off with eager, grasping fingers. Her pink slit glinted wetly as the fire hissed and danced. "Do you think she's ready?"

"For him? We doubt it," the girls replied in unison. They leaned in and Sphinx saw they were different shapes and heights, but wearing identical clothes and masks. Both of them had on mere slips and corsets, and the corsets were unlaced and pushed down to let their nipples peek out. They took turns with Siren, one licking her all along the length of her delicate entrance, the next pushing two and then three stiff fingers inside her. Sphinx slumped to the floor in misery and arousal, unable to do more than mutter weak protestations and watch. Unbidden, his cock sprang up hard and ready again.

The tall thing (he was no longer certain it was a man at all) had placed itself behind her, and his long erection swung heavily, side to side. He steadied it with one set of curled, bony fingers and prepared to enter her. Siren groaned, eyes closed.

"Wait... wait!" Sphinx cried. He struggled up from the floor, dripping a little from the end of his engorged shaft. "Let me. Let me do it, if it must be done."

The little man seemed to consider this a moment, then shrugged. "If you're up to the task, who are we to stand in your way? Beelzy -- you can have this one." He cast off the blue woman with a gentle push, and she went to the giant ass-first and plunged her purple pussy lips over his long cock.

Sphinx leaned over Siren and stroked her hair a moment, and whispered, "Better me than him, my darling." Then he entered her, and felt a strange peace -- even as the room spun around him; even as the roomful of strangers stared and fucked each other and themselves; even as the devil's music echoed through the house like cats fighting for their lives.

Her cunt was warm and willing, and she moaned to him, "Oh, my Astronomer." She pushed back against him even, gently but insistently. He kissed the invisible hairs on the back of her neck, and wound his fingers in among hers. Minutes went on, or seconds or hours, and at last he was aware that he had stopped moving entirely. When he woke to this realization, her body clenched around him, and he exploded inside her.

--

The sunlight was dim and cool, filtering through the thick glass of the small bedroom window. He realized he had fallen asleep on top of her, and in fact inside of her -- his limp cock pulled out of her almost painfully, as they were practically stuck together. The room was empty but for the two of them.

She rolled over, blinking sleepily. "I can't believe... I can hardly even remember..." Then she looked up at him with a warm, puzzled grin. "Jacob?"

"Yes, darling." He put his head gently in her lap and stroked his fingers through the top edge of her pubic hair. The tight curls were like spun gold in the morning sun. "Good morning, Gwen."

"Good morning to me, indeed. Did we... what did we get up to last night?" She looked around the room. "This is not your flat."

He nodded, following her gaze. The fire was burned down to ash. There were some scattered articles of clothing, and a little indigo paint on the bedspread, but otherwise there was not much evidence of the wild nightmare that they had wandered into the night before. "Speaking of which, we should go there. Now." He pushed up on his hands to drop down beside her on the soft bed, and kissed her throat; she giggled in response. "I have a great many things I want to do with you, and for you, and inside you. If you're up for it."

"Am I ever not?" She kissed his lips softly. "You're the prude here. The... Headmaster," she remembered with a smile.

They fastened up and straightened their clothing, then tiptoed out of the room. In the hall they found their host, wretched little Barnwell, snoring soundly as he lay against the black doorjamb. His devil mask was on top of his head and his small face was red from drink. A woman was leaning against his shoulder, a third of her blue body paint worn off from the night's festivities.

After finding their way out of the manor (it wasn't such a difficult task, by day), they ran into the giant. He was in his ridiculous-looking red tights, washing the paint from his face and torso with a washcloth and bucket. His hands were already clean except for bits around the nails. A few scattered celebrants from the party slept soundly on the lawn around him; one of them was wearing his devil mask and great black horns. When he saw the couple approaching, he gave a wave to them. "Good morning, good morning."

Jacob smiled. "That was a rather impressive spectacle. What I remember of it."

The giant nodded. "Barney outdid himself."

"Do you two have plans today?"

He gave a shrug of his bony shoulders. "We'll take our breakfast in the garden, have a drink or two, and make love like wild dogs, I expect. Of course we do that most days. I need to get the stink of women off me -- no offense, dear."

"None taken," Gwen said, laughing.

"And do you two have plans of your own, then?" He winked at Gwen. "You look like you're done playing strangers."

"Done being strangers, I believe." He ran a finger over her shoulders. "My Kitten."

"My Astronomer," she replied sweetly.

The giant made a gagging sound and waved them away. "I think next year -- nothing in the drinks but liquor. It makes you two behave abominably."

Jacob led Gwen away down the path, yelling over his shoulder: "I think next year, I'm going to be a teetotaler."

The day was warm, for the first of November, and the clouds were few on the bright blue sky; so they walked at a lazy pace, arm in arm, down the road that led back into town.

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