Stephanie Unmasked Pt. 04

"It's ok," Mia cut her off. "Honestly, I was pretty fucking nervous that someone had been watching, and it was worse that they just ran off. But I'm actually glad it was you, better than some random creepy guy. But you know-"

Mia let her hand go, only to touch her palm to Stephanie's face, forcing her to look straight into her big, brown eyes. "It was you who inspired him in the first place. If you had made yourself known in there, he probably would have invited you to come in and watch properly." Mia slowly let her hand wander down Stephanie's neck, then over the front of her dress, briefly caressing a breast on it's way down. Stephanie blinked, but did not move. Mia's fingers made her again acutely aware of the clear impression her nipples made into the soft, thin silk. An impression surely made upon every person in attendance at some point or other this night.

So much for my position of power. I just handed it straight back to her!

"And you know, I love him, but," Mia's eyes lit up as she squeezed Steph's hip. "I'm also one to share my things. Were you at least touching yourself?"

"No!"

Mia giggled. "Oh? That's a pity. I bet you wanted to. A girl doesn't go to a party commando unless she plans on being naughty about it. Masturbating under your dress with no panties. Brad would have loved to watch that. I would have loved to watch that."

Stephanie was stunned, and had no words in response. Had this woman any shame at all?

The wandering hand progressed to her leg, and cut across to her inner thigh, successfully navigating the split in her dress. Then, she turned her hand, and started to stroke upwards. Stephanie looked about, and noticed a few men and women casually watching them, eyes shining with interest from behind their masks.

And at that moment, a waiter came by carrying a tray of empty flutes, and Stephanie grabbed a napkin from it. "Here you go," she said, offering it to Mia, partly in consideration of the young woman's own little problem, but mostly as a friendly way to put a halt to the current proceedings. Mia gratefully accepted the offering, and, with about as much discretion as she could manage, reached into the split of her own dress to attend to things. As far as subtlety went, she failed. Their small audience still observed silently, and she must have known it. For all her bravado, Mia was now bright red across her cheeks, and she no longer had a mask on to hide it.

Well, good. If she's not embarrassed by that, she's not human.

"And, ladies and gentleman, this brings us to the last lot of the night. Lisa, would you please do the honours?"

The auctioneer's assistant revealed the portrait, and Stephanie was presented with her own image on a 20" by 30" canvas. She suddenly felt weightless in her stomach, and it was like all the alcohol in there was absorbed into her body in an instant, making her head feel empty and sick.

It's me. This is really happening. They are going to bid on my photo now, which is somehow going to sell for $5,000. But everyone will be disappointed, because...

It had come up faster than she expected. Obviously, not every woman in attendance had found her way to Natalie's studio. Steph had done the math on this earlier. Natalie would have had to have spent just a few minutes on each girl if she were to get through them all, but she had instead taken her time to make each subject feel special. That, and, 50 or so lots would have taken a long time to auction off.

But there was something wrong with this last lot, that being the absence of a second canvas (to Stephanie's profound relief). There came some general murmuring around the room, and she figured others were making the same connection.

Stagnant Stephanie.

She felt panic starting to creep in, as if she were being attacked. She found it incredible that so many girls had participated in the 'money shot' effort for the fundraising. But surely a woman didn't need to be very far along the prudish scale to refuse such an untoward proposition! Why was she the only one who hadn't participated?

Except, I did in the end.

"Figures," Mia murmured beside her. "In your position, I wouldn't have agreed to the upskirt snap either. And I'm still pretty shocked that they've shown them off to everyone, like this!

Thank you, Mia. Validation is sweet.

Despite the absence of the second canvas, the bidding quickly reached one thousand and was steadily increasing. Stephanie forced herself to swallow her apprehension enough to take a closer look at the work on display.

It was one of the last photos taken during her first session with Natalie. She had been leaning her butt against the back of the arm chair, side-on to the camera, the split side of her gown accommodating a generous peek at a creamy thigh. Her hands were pulling the violet silk away from her chest, and a large amount of a supple breast was exposed, her areola just barely still obscured from the scrutinising camera lens. The polished emerald surface of her mask sparkled, with the long, crooked beak turned up towards the ceiling.

'Little witch'. It's fitting, alright. And that's what they should name it.

The bidding exceeded three thousand, and Stephanie felt her mouth losing moisture while ants scurried all over her skin. They knew there wasn't going to be a 'bonus', but they were still bidding higher than she valued herself. And that made her feel uncomfortable and guilty.

At least, no bonus that they know about. Yet.

At this point she held no doubt that the nude photos would indeed be included as a few loose pages added to her portfolio. Perfectly convenient for someone to frame for their man cave, photocopy and circulate to their friends, scan and upload to the internet...

Bidding did appear to be slowing down, when someone appeared in the vicinity of the auctioneer. A girl in a black cocktail dress. Natalie. And, she was holding another large canvas. She handed it to Lisa, and after a brief, private conversation with the auctioneer, she hurried off. She hadn't searched Stephanie out in the crowd, and the guilty look on the girl's face filled her with trepidation.

"Wonderful bidders, my gracious, generous patrons, it seems there is a hmmm, eleventh hour development with this final lot. We have a bonus canvas for you after all. Apparently, this particular young lady had been the very first to make her contribution to the cause, but hadn't yet enjoyed enough of the cellar's offerings to entertain all of our photographer's requests." There were a few chuckles and giggles, and people nodded their understanding for how Stephanie might have felt some three or four hours ago.

No. No way. No, no, no fucking way.

"However, I'm pleased to say, our subject came around in the end, in fact the ink on this one was barely dry in time for the sale. It is entitled, 'Blossoming Butterfly'. Ladies and Gentleman, I believe we were at $3,400, courtesy of the gentleman in the crimson tuxedo."

Mia enquired softly by her side, "Stephanie? Did you really?" Stephanie bit her lip and nodded. She tried to speak, but her tongue was now a stiff, dry biscuit. She swallowed, and tried again.

"Right at the end. I hid in the studio when I ran from Brad, and, so that I could stay there for a few minutes-"

"-What on earth? It's not like Brad even chased you. He just shut the door and, you know... he had more pressing needs than finding the culprit. And that photographer - she's on a commission right? A percent or two of the auction sales, I heard someone say."

Stephanie barely heard Mia's comments; they weren't helpful anyway. The photos had been taken for one reason, and one reason only. Because Stephanie had wanted it. She had wanted Natalie to see her, along with whichever gentleman purchased the photos. That was the deal, or so she had been led to believe.

The bidding reached $4,750. Another waiter came by, and there was one full champagne flute on his tray. Stephanie reached for it and virtually poured it down her throat, surprising herself that she could so quickly drink something that was so cold, carbonated and alcoholic at the same time. Her head spun like a gravitron, though that may have been the case even before the sudden influx of more poison.

The waiter eyed her with concern, and she slammed her glass back onto the tray. "Please," she said to him. "My name is Stephanie Vice, could you be so kind as to run and collect my belongings from the cloak room?"

"Ah, yes, certainly, Miss Vice. You seem a little distressed, might I ask what I'll be looking for?"

"Just an envelope with my room keys in it. And yes, I am in a hurry. Please, as fast as you can. Kind sir!" The waiter nodded, and, with no liquids left on his tray, cut an efficient path zig-zagging through the crowd.

"You're going to do a runner?"

Stephanie nodded without facing Mia. Her brain was being ravaged inside a washing machine, and she didn't want to look at anybody in this ballroom anymore. Dizzy, she leaned her forehead into the back of her hand, which felt quite cool by comparison. She could only imagine how she must look; even her trusty mask wouldn't contain her emotion this time.

"It's ok sweetie, everyone else had their turn, you'll be fine." It was a male voice somewhere near her, but she didn't even search out the face to offer him the scowl of death she felt within.

"And thank you sir, that makes $5,000, so I'm happy to say the reserve for the bonus item has been met. Lisa, one last time, if you would please!"

Stephanie believed that she didn't want to look, but ultimately she couldn't stop herself from lifting her eyes in time to witness the unveiling. Lisa had a dumb bimbo smile on her stupid face as she tore at the paper covering, like she was presenting something as inoffensive as a child's finger painting.

The canvas was revealed. And then. Complete silence.

But after that, an almighty cheer rose up amongst the crowd. Someone took her hand, and squeezed it reassuringly. "I guess we're even, then."

Stephanie returned Mia's squeeze, and dared to behold the spectacle at the podium.

There it was - her upskirt photo, and not just any. It was surely the very last one Natalie had taken, the one where Stephanie had done the naughtiest pose, with her legs spread like a porn star. A moment of such unprecedented stupidity that she could scarcely believe it was really her. A moment inspired by a sudden, uncharacteristic desire to advance her participation in matters of sensuality. Except that fate had captured her in her brief lapse, and now punished her by sharing it with the world.

The main subject of the photo was a clear view of her ass, spread wide by her posture and framing her bare-naked vulva. The silliest thing she realised as she stared in abject horror, was that she didn't even recognise her own genitals. Not really, not like this.

Her lips were delicate, pinkish-brown flanges that curled back over her labia majora, exposing the soft flesh of her vaginal walls which were a well of creamy girl-cum.

"A butterfly pussy," she heard someone nearby murmur. "And a real nice one too."

I thought we all just had vaginas. Since when did men feel it necessary to create classifications for them!

The bidding resumed, though Stephanie barely heard them. They seemed to be taking their time, drawing out the worst moment of her life for as long as possible.

Like every other person in the room, Stephanie continued to stare at the pornography. The beauty technician had certainly done her job the previous day, with not a single stray hair or millimetre of stubble for her private areas to hide amongst. Her labia really did look like butterfly wings, tapered at her vagina and flaring out in line with her little clitoral hood, which might have been the creature's soft little head. Her lips looked kind of wrinkly towards the edges. She hadn't had any idea. Had never desired to take such a close look.

"Are you still that wet, little witch?" Brad had at some point crept up behind her, and his lewd remark was met with an immediate smack in the chest from Mia. But Stephanie found herself nodding slightly. Her capacity for reason had evaporated along with her dignity, and all she could do was be honest. To Brad and Mia. To everyone here. To herself. She was Stephanie Vice, 22 years old, and she was ready to share her precious virgin body - but she had only wanted it to be with the right person. As for Brad's comment - it was bad enough that the little puddle of her concentrated juices were basically centred in the photo, but the same thing that she had cleaned up in the bathroom had happened again as well.

As a lady walks, her thighs rub together. Without underwear, things like this can happen. Her drippings can get worked into a lather and then stick between her bits, and in this case that obscene silken thread was back, adjoining one of her 'butterfly wings', onto a large smear on her inner thigh. It didn't really mean anything, other than that she had been getting rather worked up down there from the untoward incidents leading up to her second visit to that damn studio.

But they love it.

Bidding had already exceeded ten grand, and didn't seem to be letting up. There were many interested parties for the grand finale. Where was that waiter with her room keys? There was no need for her to stay and find out which among these perverts was the least satisfied with having such a good gawk now; these men who felt like they needed to revisit her disgrace again when they got home, as often as they wanted and for as long as they lived.

Brad started up again, undeterred by Mia's tendency to respond instantly with violence to any comments she deemed inappropriate. "I have mixed feelings about this, little witch. I liked being about the only person to figure out your cheeky secret. Now everyone knows, even if they didn't bother to meet you. Doesn't seem fair. But on the other hand, now I don't have to imagine anymore. I mean damn, you even got a cute little butt-hole too!"

Mia's blows rained down upon him again, this time targeting his groin. "You're so gross! And mean!"

"What? Her taint looks really sweet, and I wanna taste it. I bet she tastes better than you, slut."

There was the sound of Brad suffering through some kind of agony, but Stephanie didn't turn to look at the quarrelsome, if passionate pair of lovers. She could no longer care less what they said or did. Her eyes dragged up the image to her 'cute little butt-hole', as Brad had called it. Another part of her that she hadn't felt a need to study before. She had spread her legs widely enough that her ass cheeks opened around it. A tightly sealed pit surrounded by pinkish-brown wrinkles. It was her dirtiest, most private part. And now, exposed for all the world to have an opinion on.

Ok, I'm ready to check out. Of life.

"Thirty thousand," a voice called from the back of the room. Stephanie blinked, realising that someone had just doubled the bid. Someone really wanted this picture, and whatever other snaps awaited within the pages of her portfolio. They wanted it badly enough to part with an obscene sum of money! Stephanie shook her head to try and clear her nausea, and gazed over towards their high roller. And her mouth dropped.

It was Jerome Masterson himself. Her boss whom she revered as Mysterious Leader, and the founder of the very charity he was preparing to donate to. The one person Stephanie had been confident would not be bidding on her prize. In fact, she reflected that he had not participated in making a single bid until now. Why now? Why her?

The auctioneer was very excited about the latest bid. However, there was otherwise general silence. Who would want to compete with Jerome Masterson in the first place, and especially after he had just doubled the price of the highest previous lot? That racy prize had featured Mikayla - his own date that evening - and every person in the room would have noticed that he had abstained from bidding on even that one.

"Thirty thousand going once... going twice!"

And then, it dawned on Stephanie, the real reason for Jerome's participation. It wasn't that he was a pervert, or that he sought some kind of extra control over her as her boss. This was a mercy. 30,000 mercies. By bringing the auction to a swift close, the picture would finally be taken away. Stephanie's humiliation would endure as a life-long scar, but at least this present, excruciating moment would at last fizzle out.

"Thirty thousand going three times. And? Sold! To our gracious host and generous benefactor, thank you so very much sir!" Lisa stacked the first canvas over the diabolical second, and added them to the stack to be distributed among the auction winners.

Stephanie looked back over at Jerome Masterson, but couldn't read his expressionless, masked face. She swallowed, and bit her lip. She couldn't just let this slide. He had just committed to $30,000, just out of pity for her! She had to do something. Say something. Anything!

And so, Stephanie Vice, the once prudish and shy clerk, plucked the courage to worm her way through the crowd to where her Mysterious Leader stood. Mikayla had vacated from his side. She didn't know where the woman whom she had shared her first passionate kiss with was, but she was kind of glad. It was bad enough speaking to anybody she knew at this point. And just where was that waiter?!

"Mr Masterson-"

"-Jerome," he corrected her for the second time with a calm, kind voice. She looked up at his face, the white and gold enamel moulded perfectly over his skin. She let the intimidating aura of his devilishly curved goat horns wash over her, and she shuddered. But, his brown eyes were soft and human, and were focused solely on her now. Those eyes that, only moments ago, had been lingering over that most damning canvas. Only a few glimpses of his flesh were left bare by his suit - his hands, his neck, up to his chin and around his mouth. His skin was dark, yet glowed with the power that she allowed him over her.

Despite her present personal turmoil, Stephanie almost lost her breath as she again took in this beautiful man up close. Her humiliation had not diminished her arousal - if anything, it had made it worse. If her need earlier in the night was a mild tickle that she had tolerated, it was now a desperate itch that would be scratched one way or another the moment she was back in her room. Her vagina was radiating heat enough to combat the ballroom's substantial air conditioning, and from the slickness she felt between her thighs, she had no doubt that a few more of those obnoxious 'threads' had formed.

"I don't know, I mean. What am I supposed to-"

"It's ok, you don't have to say anything. It was my fault for allowing this to happen. Don't let the establishment of my fund fool you; I'm no saint, as you can tell."

"Umm, well, thank you, anyway. First the mask and then the room, and now, this? It's too much, actually. I'm overwhelmed. You've overwhelmed me tonight, Mr Jerome Masterson. And there's nothing I can do to repay you."

"That's not true. I purchased that last lot because I wanted it. I have a few pieces of art in my home, but nothing quite so erotic. I hope you won't think this affects the way I perceive you, Miss Vice. But you are very lovely, and I wanted the artwork for myself. I'm going to rename it though, may God forgive the sacrilege. But 'Blossoming Butterfly' just reeks of crass. I think it should be, 'Stephanie Unmasked'. Yes. I'll have a little plaque done up to accompany the two frames."

Stephanie swallowed. It was a good name, but she refused to admit it to him. "Is that so? I guess it would be a lot for me to ask you to tear it up the moment they hand it over." She spoke with something that bordered on sarcasm, but he responded only with a crooked smile. Not good enough. She wanted to leave a proper impression to accompany his prize, and had to snuff out the petulance. "Jerome? If you... if you think I'm beautiful, why not ask to see my face? I can tell you now, all of the pictures in my 'portfolio' have my mask on. It has been my lifeline tonight, to tell the truth. But, I could take it off now. You know, for my dashing white knight."