Stephanie Unmasked Pt. 04

The party seemed to be rowdier than when she had left it. More than half the guests were dancing now, including various rather intimate looking pairs, and circles of showy women, shadowed by a few lads trying to get involved (and mostly succeeding). Neither the steps nor the accompanying music resembled something as elegant as ballroom anymore. Stephanie Vice spotted Mikayla dancing with two men. Well, 'dancing' was being generous. She was basically a piece of near-nude meat caught in a tuxedo sandwich, and seemed happy enough to be there.

A closer look at her made Stephanie's jaw drop. She was slowly grinding her ass onto the front of one man's pants, who held her there by her hips. The other man stood close, facing her, his arms reaching past her shoulders to lock onto his buddy's. Mikayla was holding onto his waist, but as Steph watched, she brushed a hand over the front of his pants. It wasn't exactly subtle, but apparently nobody, security or otherwise, was of a mind to interfere. Stephanie watched a little longer, observing how she stroked him only ever so slowly, in time with her grinding against the man-post behind her.

"I suppose that's what you would call a cock tease," Stephanie said to nobody in particular. "I'll say it again for that woman. Fearless! But where's her date?" She glanced about, and eventually spotted Jerome Masterson's stunning white and gold getup in a quiet corner, surrounded by a rather sober looking bunch who all seemed to want their slice of his time. What kind of reasons they may have held for placing him in such high esteem befogged her. 'Mysterious Leader'. He may have denied his worthiness of the title, but it held true enough from where Stephanie stood. And her brief conversation with him earlier had done little to alleviate her curiosity towards her benefactor.

"He's not concerned about Mikayla's behaviour, though. They really aren't together. Maybe, hopefully, she hasn't told him what we did."

"Such a fine lady shouldn't be by herself, let alone talking with only herself." It was a young man with a huge, infectious grin, and Steph found herself returning his smile. Like she could ever again be embarrassed by something as trivial as holding a conversation with one's self! The man held up two full champagne flutes, and offered one to Stephanie.

You've had quite enough to drink. Time for a water!

She opened her mouth to make an excuse, but the man stopped her with a finger to her lips. "Nor should she be without a drink in hand on such a night. Though if you're like me, you're thinking it's time to slow down?"

"I was going to say that."

"Well let's make a pact, you and I. One more, and only one. Last chance to savour the taste of free Dom Pérignon."

Stephanie considered he might be trouble to say no to, but his charm was compelling enough that she took the glass. Though, she told herself that she need not drink it all.

"To charity," he proposed cheerfully. Stephanie winced at hearing the word, but they shared a chink and she took a small sip.

She listened to the man's slightly impaired but largely emboldened capacity for conversation for a while. He was there with his girlfriend, but he had grown weary of the dance floor since she had apparently taken to showing him the shoulder in favour of dancing with other ladies. Stephanie figured he just singled her out in the hope that his wife might glance their way and know a little jealousy. In any case he was harmless enough, though she had no real interest in him, available or not.

But other men and women came by and joined in the chat, and she found herself wandering to other groups and meeting a lot of people. Occasionally she stole a glance towards the Jerome Masterson fan club. Just once, her heart pressed against the top of her ribcage when she found him staring right back at her. His ivory-look enamel mask failed to disguise the piercing hold of his large dark eyes, and Stephanie had a squirmish thought that the fabric of her dress had turned completely transparent under his gaze. Perhaps through her skin and bone as well, and right into the mischievous sexual being that was clawing its way out of her tonight.

She retained enough composure to look away immediately. Well, not so immediately that her awkwardness would be obvious. She hoped.

At some point she noticed Brad and Mia mingling amongst the various little groups. No more energetic dancing from those two, and she awarded herself zero points for hazarding a guess as to why. By her reckoning, they had been absent for a very long time.

It was 11:00pm when the music slowly faded to next to nothing, and there came an announcement. "Ladies and Gentleman, your attention please. The time has finally come, for the much anticipated charity auction!" There were enthusiastic cheers from most of the room, though some women quieted, suddenly looking rather nervous. Stephanie, naturally, fell into the latter category.

A display stand was set up on the first landing of the elaborate staircase that was the main feature of the Auream Grand's Great Hall and ballroom, and an unfamiliar girl in a black skirt and jacket was arranging stacks of large canvases upon it. When she was done, there were two stacks facing the crowd, with a blank sheet of paper at the front of each, so that those below couldn't see the first images yet.

"Please, allow me to explain how this will work," the man, whose voice had served as announcer for the evening, meandered down to the landing with a wireless microphone. "At the commencement of each lot, my beautiful assistant Lisa will reveal the full size canvas depicting the lovely lady whose glamorous portfolio you are bidding on. Each lot includes the prints and portfolio only. It doesn't entitle you to any special time with the subject, ok, fellas?"

"Unless I buy my wife's one myself!" Someone in the crowd blurted it out, and Stephanie cringed. He wasn't particularly witty; she had already heard people talking about how they planned to win their own lots. But in the spirit of the cause, they would see to it that others didn't get out of it cheaply.

"Yes, quite," the MC-made-auctioneer agreed shortly. "Now, as you see on the stand, each lot has a second canvas, which we hope will serve as an incentive for your generosity tonight. More specifically, Lisa will only reveal it once the bidding reaches five thousand dollars. Think of it as meeting a reserve in order to unlock a bonus item. For any lots that do not reach this reserve, the bonus canvas will instead be destroyed. A regrettable waste, I'm so very sorry to say."

There were many excited murmurs from amongst the crowd.

They can't mean - surely not. Nope.

The woman introduced as Lisa tore the piece of paper obscuring the first canvas, marking the start of the first auction. The subject was a beautiful red-head, tall and leggy, with pale skin suitably marred by countless, cute little freckles. She was wearing a long gown of burnt blood-orange. Natalie had somehow brought out extraordinary brightness in her blue eyes that gazed on from behind a simple, but functional mask. The pose was playful, with her stiletto's removed and hanging over one hand, and the other dangerously close to tipping a near-empty champagne flute. Her body language suggested an intention to retire to the nearby armchair.

The bidding started at $100 and quickly went up to $1,000, courtesy of the woman's husband. She hadn't spoken to them, but that fiery hair and tall, elegant stature had caught her eye on a few occasions. Like many others with cheaper masks, she was no longer wearing hers. She was smiling nervously while twirling a ginger lock in her fingers.

The bidding continued, with the $5,000 bid coming immediately after $4,000. The bidder was not the woman's husband, but that did not stop (or perhaps it encouraged) an enthusiastic cheer from those gathered.

Stephanie did not cheer. She had a bad feeling about this.

"Thank you sir, for bringing us up to the reserve for the bonus. Lisa, you may now reveal the subject's second canvas."

His assistant smiled broadly, and tore the paper away. There were gasps among the audience, and then, wolf whistles and applause.

Fuck. They did. They really, actually did!

In the second canvas, the 'subject' had certainly made herself comfortable on the armchair. She appeared to be sleeping, still holding the champagne flute, although it hung upside down over the side of the chair from her loosely dangling arm. However, those details were largely out of focus. The true subject of the photo was most definitely her legs, and... in between them.

She sat towards the edge of the large armchair, and was leaning back into a corner of the support. One of her legs hung over the upholstered arm, while the other was stretched out straight, creating a daring spread that Natalie had exploited in high resolution. The photo was taken level with the cushion upon which the girl sat, pointed straight between her thighs. Her long gown should have covered that part of her, but she was holding the hem up against her belly, deliberately exposing herself.

Stephanie admired all the fine details in terrible awe. This woman wore panties. Not a g-string - panties. But they were the nude coloured, seamless type - the sort that would have been perfect for Stephanie if she had only thought to buy such a thing ahead of time. Panties or no, the view was highly erotic. The pure ivory of her thighs was a striking contrast to the darker coloured dress, and it was clear that she retained her natural allotment of pubic hair.

I really am the only person classless enough to have got that removed, aren't I?

Aside from the clear indentation of a full bush into the ultra thin nylon, the tips of long ginger strands escaped the edges of her panties and stood out against her inner thighs. They probably could have been tucked behind the material easily enough, but Stephanie wondered if Natalie had asked the girl for the precise opposite arrangement for the sake of her controversial shot.

But perhaps the most embarrassing part was the dime-sized spot of moisture that turned the almost nude coloured material dark and transparent. Right in front of the woman's vagina.

"This lot is entitled, 'Sweet Dreams'. Bidding will now resume, with the gentleman at the back currently leading with five thousand."

The bids continued for 'Sweet Dreams', although they were trickling in slowly at increments of just $100. Stephanie watched the girl - the redhead, wondering how she was coping with such embarrassment. She seemed ok all considered, repeatedly glancing at the photo, giggling and burying her face in her husband's sleeve. Each time a man in the room upped the bid she would spin and gawk at the culprit. She didn't seem upset with them; her expression was more one of wonder for these strangers who found her appealing enough to offer up such sums of cash.

The lot was 'going twice at $7,900' to the man who first pushed it to $5,000, before the redhead's husband finally swooped in with a panicked bid of $8,000, securing him the win. Even Stephanie could tell he was at the limit of what he was prepared to spend, and that the real reason for his final bid was the firm grip his wife had under his crotch.

He was still wincing in pain as he tried to smile for the applause following his victory. Stephanie bit her lip, for the couple sparked her imagination. Would the girl show some appreciation to her rescuer later on tonight? Perhaps not, she guessed. The redhead was yet to relinquish her cruel grip on him, and he seemed to just take the punishment with a tortured sneer, but didn't try to break free. Perhaps this kind of treatment was common in their bedroom? Stephanie silently wished the man a long and uncomfortable night of swollen, achy testicles. He obviously had money, so he shouldn't have even been toying with the idea of conceding that photo to another man's collection.

Jeez, who am I? Where did I even come up with that!

Lot #2 featured the giggly friend of the girl in the yellow dress from the bathroom. Stephanie felt concerned for her, being a bit overweight, and subjected to something like this. But, Natalie had captured her looking joyous in one of her torrents of laughter, and, perhaps helped by a seductive glimpse of cleavage, bidding soon reached $5,000. At that point it became apparent to Steph that each sale ought to fetch at least that much.

The second photograph was as shocking as the redhead's, with the girl perched on the back of the barstool, her medium length skirts pulled out so that she was mostly sitting on her bare thighs. Naturally, the photo was taken from behind and beneath. Instead of trying to disguise the girl's big butt, Natalie had emphasised it by forcing it to spill over the edge of the stool. Her ass looked huge in the photo frame! The men loved it, and the final result didn't fall all that far short of the redhead's.

Next up was 'yellow dress', and Stephanie was rather relieved, but also slightly disappointed, that the naughtier photo of her squatting right over the lens had not been the one selected for the bonus canvas. Instead, it was a more candid looking upskirt shot. The girl wore a thong, and her buttocks were firm and nicely rounded, partially obscured by the fall of her dress about her legs. And then Stephanie made a connection - she had seen those girls fairly late in the evening, and it seemed reasonable that they were auctioning these in the reverse order from the time at which they were taken. As if they were printed out in a big stack, and now the auctioneer was simply working through that stack.

Which makes me lucky last.

Stephanie dared enough to hope that her contribution had been finalised hours ago, and lay at the bottom of the stack. There was no way they would have printed out one of those photos in the large size. They shouldn't have even had time. And, Natalie had promised that she would just include them as loose sheets at the back of her completed booklet. However, Natalie had never mentioned that the whole party would get to see the more risque shots she had been asked to take.

The auctions went on, always fetching at least $5,000, so that everyone could hoot and holler when the upskirt photos were revealed. Stephanie too was drawn to the erotica strongly enough, but her anxiety for her coming turn stopped her from sharing in the excitement of what seemed like every other person, even the women being exploited.

Each of the 'money shots' were bold, and sexy. Some focused on a girl's buttocks, some, like with the redhead's, captured the crotch area. And others were the classic upskirt view, the camera positioned between the feet. Many were especially rude in some way or another, but all of them were glamorous.

A few others joined the redhead with damp stamps on their panties, but these stopped after a while (as they got to photos taken earlier in the night, Stephanie considered). Some had pubic hair partially escaping the narrow material of their thongs, but despite her earlier self-chastising, Stephanie realised that the majority of these women seemed well groomed down there.

When they got to Mikayla's turn, Stephanie was again taken aback by how brazen the European beauty was, how completely uninhibited. The first photo, as might have been expected, had been sure to capture the golden jewelled snakes that served as her only covering above the waist (except for the gorgeous mask Jerome Masterson had gifted to her). Natalie could have posed Mikayla so that her nipples were covered for the shot, but apparently she had instead sought to show them off as much as possible.

The bids got up to $5,000 in short order, and the second canvas was unveiled. Mikayla had been standing tall on her long legs and stilettos, but bending over to lean on the little cocktail table. Stephanie recalled that Natalie had told her about this, and she hadn't been exaggerating when she said it was hot. Her short skirt might have been enough to cover her ass from the back, but naturally the shot was taken from a little underneath.

Mikayla was a model, and her bottom was nothing too outrageous to behold. However, she seemed very relaxed for the shot, and the black string of her thong was clearly visible between well defined cheeks. And a string was all it was - so barely there that the soft, wrinkled tissue surrounding her anus was captured in a display that while frightfully lewd, conveyed a certain innocence. Mikayla probably hadn't realised that the photo included a peek of that part of her. It didn't really seem fair to Stephanie since there was nothing amiss about the way she wore the g-string. If it had been her, she was sure she would have been completely ignorant.

But we've already established I'm completely ignorant about g-strings. Or I wouldn't have turned up to this ball a pantyless slut!

That lot settled at $14,750, a donation that impressed everybody in the crowd. Stephanie noticed that although Jerome Masterson once again stood by Mikayla's side as her date, he had not bid on her photos personally. Had he even bid on any lots, in that case?

Soon after that, Mia materialised by Stephanie's side. She seemed to have a talent for materialisation. She too no longer had her mask on, and she smiled at Stephanie, who nervously returned one as best as she could.

Does she know? I bet she knows. She knows I was watching them, and she's going to call me on it.

"Shit, that asshole!" Mia whisper-yelled harshly. She looked uncomfortable, squirming with her legs together, and looking down the front of her dress with concern.

Did Brad make good on his threat? Was his... stuff... coming out of her, and causing her problems?

With that thought, Stephanie felt a little more powerful. Now Mia was the one embarrassed by the situation under her dress, and Stephanie was the one who saw right through her. It hadn't helped the poor girl that her turn in the auction had been up there among the most indecent. Perhaps inspired by her tango performance at the start of the night, the bids went up higher than most. The photo under her dress had been the classic kind of upskirt shot, but zoomed in close, creating an emphasis on an obnoxious bulge against her skimpy red g-string. Stephanie had of course spied on the woman with her underwear removed, and she appreciated how her wild pubic hair, along with the thick lips of her labia, would create such a look.

Though, she doesn't even have that g-string on anymore, does she?

There had been plenty of appreciation around the room, with a few 'what an ass!' comments within Stephanie's ear shot. She too admired Mia's toned, golden bubble-butt, and the bidding had closed well over ten thousand, though not quite reaching the record set by Mikayla's lot. She hadn't had eyes on Brad, but as far as she could tell he had not even tried to compete in the bidding war to safeguard his lover's honour.

But it was Mia's discomfort in this moment that emboldened Stephanie. It was probably the first time she had held any advantage all night, and she was taken by a sudden whim to exercise that power.

She placed her hand on Mia's arm, earning the girl's attention. Her dark features were as wild as they were lovely. And, following her comment, she really did look kind of mad!

"Mia, are you ok? Did... did Brad make good on his threat?"

There was a hesitation, and then Mia's eyes widened with recognition, and she put her hand over Stephanies and gave it a squeeze.

"Oh my God, it was you!"

"I'm so sorry, I wouldn't have, but I just came by and you know the door was open, and-"