Victim's Ball

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MSTarot
MSTarot
3,097 Followers

"You're a good dancer," she said her words still soft, as if afraid of breaking the spell.

And the more we danced the more that was just what this felt like. A spell, a bit of magic that we were all under. This whole room full of people who were now in motion. I heard hints of the earlier Goth music in the background, playing to a different tone, but in a strange way blending with this more classical nocturne as well.

I saw Cassandra then. She was dancing with the grace of an angel, her arms around the French woman, Colette. I tapped Maggs's shoulder and pointed to them with my chin. She smiled, and then her eyes went wide as we saw the two women kissing.

"Well, now." Maggie snuggled into me closer. "Doesn't that add complexity to our friend? I never knew Cass liked girls."

"Me either."

"Think of all the opportunities to maybe explore an undiscovered bisexual side to myself that I missed." She rubbed her breasts into my chest.

I stumbled, and she laughed, knowing she had gotten to me. It was an old game of teasing that she and I had played for years but now, considering what Cassandra had told me, I was looking at it with clearer eyes.

And still the music played. Growing in power. There were more instruments now, a solid dozen players, and that distant Goth music had built in volume as well. A background base giving the music power that you could feel in the bones of your chest, and behind your ears but not really hear.

"Wow, talk about your public displays of affection."

Following her direction I saw what she meant. Not far from where we danced two of the party goers had decided to let discretion fall to the side. A short man, in surprisingly accurate clothes for eighteen-twenty, and a tall woman in black leather, metal studs and vinyl stockings were making out on the dance floor. His shirt and waistcoat hung open and her top was now on the floor. Her breasts, nipples pierced and proud, wrapped his face as they danced, moved. Not dancing really, more like a sexual foreplay of motion and as we watched she dropped to her knees before him and ...

"Wow."

I nodded my head in agreement and was about to say something when the other dancers drifted between us and the couple, now exploring the voyeuristic joys of public fellatio. Interrupting our view, we saw only a few hints at the oral action taking place as other couples, entwined together, ghosted past Maggs and myself.

Maggie turned her head away and rested it back over my heart.

"There have been times I wished I was that adventurous. Sexually." She gave a sad little chuckle. Then snuggled into my chest and I held her tighter. "As if I could ever do that. Hell, I can't even deal with my feelings when it comes to sex let along deal with doing something that wild in public."

"What do you ..."

"I don't want to talk about it, Mark. Just hold me and let me dance with you. That's all I want at the moment." Her voice held such sadness, bitter disillusionment. Raw disappointment.

"Sure. But ..."

The music seemed to build more at that precise moment, to a power that defied the ability to speak in whispers. Not wanting to shout, I held Maggie closer to me and felt her pull me in tighter as well. As if she was trying to merge the two of us together to keep out her unspoken pain.

Around us the dance floor seemed to fill up magically. There didn't, at first glance, appear to be enough room for all these people dancing, but somehow none the less it was happening. More and more people would dance into the already crowded hall, moving by each other with a grace I had never witnessed before.

Also, I saw that more and more semi-sexual scenes, like that earlier oral one, began to be repeated before my astonished eyes. Who were these people? I didn't recognize any of them anymore. A face here and there was somewhat familiar, but soon the costumed people, those fancy Elizabethan dresses and the elaborate hairdos and makeup began to appear. Enough so I began to feel underdressed. Not that clothes seemed to be a requirement for this party any longer. More and more often I would have a woman or man dance past me who was all but nude.

The music enfolded around us, a living blanket of sound and fury that caressed the inside of my bones, making me gasp at the sensation. I felt Maggs do the same.

Higher and higher went tones and sound, longer and longer the notes blended together seeking an ever more perfect harmony. Past my eyes now swam visions that my mind struggled to find purchase with. A general agreement seemed to have been reached among the dancers on that floor that sex and dance were akin to each other, enough as to be interchangeable. More and more often I would witness couples joined together, flesh to flesh in a dance as old as the human race. Coupling, in time with musical thrusting of symphonic power, their lust lending a lingering sound of both orgasmic pleasure and the subtly blending of moans to the music that continued to drift through the air around me.

And as we moved among them, it felt as if Maggie and I were once removed. Looking down, I saw that her eyes were closed and she was oblivious to the growing sexual-surreal feeling of this party. This wake for the living dead.

More and more, as she and I danced, I began to question if I was even awake. Was this a dream? What had been in that punch? I looked at a couple, one Goth the other so clearly Baroque that they were as night and day, and yet they were both half to undress and she was suckling on his pierced nipples.

Then a hand was on my shoulder. I turned to see Jason there, his shirt off and his pants unzipped. His eyes appeared glazed but they focused on me first, then on Maggie.

"Let me cut in there, Mark. I know just how to treat that slut your being so protective of. She always was a sucker for the bad-boy type, so you're just wasting your time. Here let me."

He went to pull Maggs from my arms, but she clung to me.

Angry, no furious! I disentangled one arm and shoved him. He fell backwards to crash into the guillotine. The huge wooden and steel executor rocked for a second, and from among the crowd came a terrible moaning sound. Dozens of hands clutched at throats. Then, when Jason got to his feet with a drunken laugh, their eyes all fell on him.

And there were awesome levels of hate in those eyes.

"Finally showing some balls there, Mark?" He grabbed a drink from out of another man's hand and tossed it back. He wiped his hand across his mouth then threw the cup to the ground. "Well, that's just fine. No skin off my nose. There are a dozen whores here better than her. I should know, I fucked her better ... hell, better than anyone else ever did." He stumbled and drunkenly sat back down on the long wooden bench upon where men had once lain to be beheaded.

Maggs clutched at my chest and whimpered. Her eyes were tight shut, as if to block out the whole world and certainly Jason's voice. As if to not see him was to deny him existence.

"Please don't turn me loose," she begged me when I tried to move to go strangle Jason.

Guiding us away from the guillotine, I looked with revulsion at it one last time, seeing Jason smile at a passing Goth couple. They looked at him, then at each other in a hungry agreement and turned to join him. The full-leather-encased woman going immediately for his open crotch. Unzipping the mouth on her black mask as she knelt, I saw long fingernails rip his cock from his pants.

Then I saw the Goth male pulled my old friend's head back by his hair, leaned in and licked a spilled line of alcohol off Jason's cheek.

Homophobe that he was, I expected Jason to explode in protest of this but I guess with his cock in the woman's mouth he was up for anything. Or drunk enough to not care. The last thing I saw, before the crowded dance floor blocked the view, was of Jason leaning back kissing the man full on the mouth. I smirked knowing I was going to never let him live that one down.

If I ever spoke to him again.

Maggie was a comforting warmth in my arms as we drifted like smoke in a sea of ghostly half images. The swirl of dancers was an ebbing flow of multiple times--modern, historical, even futuristic--that all seemed to be gathered more and more into focus around Cassandra and Colette. When I saw the two women they had a circle around them cleared and were moving with powerful steps. Each taking the lead and then surrendering it moments later to her partner.

I noticed then that Cassandra didn't seem as frail as before, more like her old self, the Cass I knew from high school.

And the way she danced would have done a salsa dancer proud. She was moving with a sensual, erotic grace that was like watching sex turned into an art form. And Colette, the beautiful French woman--her gown now opened to review incredibly full breasts topped with large, rose-colored nipples--was every bit as fluid. She clung to Cassandra and then spun with her, lips and fingers joining into their dance as often as not.

"Maggie, look."

"No. I don't want to see anything anymore. My vision is screwed up; I've had too much to drink." She clung all the harder to my body, her warmth a part of me. Her fear as well. "I can't look at these people anymore, Mark."

Feeling such love for her, such a powerful need to protect Maggs from everything, I began to try to move us off the dance floor.

But it didn't want to let us go!

The dance floor clung to us, trying to pull us back into the growing piles of humping, grinding human flesh. The orgasmic screams enticing us to stay. Begging us to stay and fuck them. The music, now so overpowering as to be physically painful, impacting my body with sound, I wanted silence. Needed that, as badly as people need air and water. I struggled to get us to the edges of the dancers like a man clawing at a root in a muddy bank, trying to get a handhold to keep from being sucked back into a cold river.

Looking to the side, I saw one of the doors that led into the kitchens. Several times I had to step us around couples of two or even as many as a dozen locked in sexual knots, but I kept moving us into the little hallway. Hands caught at my clothes, shrill voices begged us to stay, to join. To bind our bodies with theirs in lustful heat. Then, catching a doorknob into a small room, which I saw at a glance, was filled with old fashioned coats and cloaks, I pushed us into it. When I closed the door only the music followed. Nothing could keep that power from reaching you anywhere within this building.

Maggie was crying.

"I'm such a fool. I'm such a fool." Her voice, soft and sweet but filled with tears, was repeating that as a chant into my shirt. "I'm such ..."

"Hush now, now hush," I whispered into her hair. "I'm here. It's okay."

"No. No it's not." Maggs brought her hand to my face. "It's not okay. I slept with Jason. Once."

Four words. How can four simple words hurt so badly? How can they cause so much rage to appear? So much gut-felt hate? So much envy? I looked down at my beautiful friend, my Maggs ... her eyes wet with tears, her face awash with guilt. Why? Why would she ... why did she ... how could she? And then the big question rolled into me like a steam roller. What right did I have to get angry over it? If I never had the courage to let her know what I felt then how can I get upset? I have no right, none to feel enraged, to hate, to even feel envy if I lack courage to do so simple a thing as tell her ...

"I love you," I said softly.

Maggie looked at me and blinked. As if trying to wake up from a deep sleep, but then her eye lids drooped a bit and she seemed to be unable to wake.

"And I've always loved you. That's why I did it." She leaned back into my chest. "I was so mad at you then. You had slept with that cunt, Carol. You let her take your virginity. I always wanted to be your first and you to be mine. But you never even looked at me like I was a girl."

"I always thought you were beautiful. I've desired you for so long Maggie."

"Then why did you never tell me that, Mark?" she asked, her hand was under my shirt in the small of my back caressing my spine. Her fingers dug into the skin when she looked up at me. "If you had simply told me that, I would have let you know how I felt, but I always thought you just saw me as a friend. Just another one of the guys, except I was the one that had tits."

"I didn't think you saw me as anything but a friend."

She gave me a small, sad smile. "Cass was right. We are a pair of fools."

I nodded. "Maggs?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I please kiss you?"

"Only if I don't kiss you first," she teased me, even as she was moving her face closer to mine.

The dream like quality of this night, that had been so pervasive in everything that had happened since I began to dance with Colette Lecouvereur, lent this first kiss a strange magic. An air of one-off surrealism, that made me doubt I was really doing it. That my lips were in fact touching Maggie's. That it was her hips under my hands and that it was really her hands in my hair, pulling me deeper into the kiss. When the shared passion ignited, under that first soft touching of lips, the small room seemed to enfold around us, to enwrap up both in protective arms, sheltering us from the orgy of Bohemian madness and music that was outside in the ballroom.

The sounds of a hundred passion-driven moans were entwined with that loud, dark, haunting music now. Inseparable. Relentless. Unavoidably, that bass tone was ingrained upon our very marrow.

My hands holding her to me, and her hands me to her, we moved together. Not a dance but a union of purpose towards a goal that we neither one consciously knew, but both were wanting. When we knocked over the coat rack and tumbled over our own feet to fall into the pile of soft coats, we both laughed. A humor that was quickly smothered under lust as we all but attacked each other with years of suppressed mutual need.

Maggs's fingernails on my back were a stinging pain that brought me to the edge of myself and then held me there. I left her lips and kissed my way to her neck, suckling at the hard pulse beat then I let my teeth graze her throat . She hissed approval and then pulled at my clothes, trying to strip my shirt from my chest. I sat up and sent the thin cloth flying from me. I had only seconds before I was back to kissing her, but in that time she undid the buckle on her belt and tugged out her shirt. Her vinyl skirt rode up her thighs as she opened her legs, enwrapping my hips, and pulled me down on top of her.

My bare chest was on her bare belly as I let my mouth explore the skin over her collar bone. Then she was pushing my head lower. My lips touched the freckle spattered skin of her left breast, sinking into that spongy warmth. Then she caught her top and pulled it open setting her bra free. It was black lace but only had half cups, her nipple sat like the cherry on top of the cake merely hidden under dark lace. I let my mouth take it in through that scratch netting, my teeth capturing it, my tongue tasting warm cloth. Then her fingers caught the edge of the bra and she fed me the bare nipple. Holding my head in place as I suckled at her.

"Oh, Mark. I've wanted to feel you do that for so long."

I let her hard, rose-colored pebbly pop from my lips. "Not as long as I've wanted to do it."

"Then you better do the other one too, it's getting jealous." She pulled both her breasts out, over the tops of the bra cups, and held her hands under them offering me her nipples. She begged when I hesitated for a moment enjoying the incredible view before me. "Please, Mark."

How could I turn that down?

Her breast was soft as sin, and the nipple hard as lust could make them. I devoured her offering. Smiling around the tightly puckered skin as she moaned my name. How many years had I fantasized about hearing her do that? Why had I not told her what I felt earlier? Suckling at her nipple harder, I loved the hissing wince she made when my teeth clamped hard onto the sides, holding it in place for my tongue to lash. Why had we wasted years not together? But even as I was enjoying this first taste of her breasts, my mind was going to what else of hers I wanted to taste. That short, vinyl skirt was bunched under my stomach and I knew those, no doubt, black lace panties were just waiting for my lips to brush across.

To push aside.

The undersides of her breasts were a bit sweaty, resting on top of smushed-up black lace, when my lips crossed them. She flinched when I kissed my way across her belly button, her delicate skin tickled by my mouth. I felt her breathing jump when my mouth lifted right at the edge of that warm black vinyl.

"Mark?" For a second I thought she was about to ask me not to, then she grinned. "The skirt's zipper is on the side."

Smiling, I sat up and looked at the side of her hip, then the other one and saw the shiny brass ribbon of interlocked teeth. They purred down and unhooked and I opened the black skirt like I was opening the pages of my favorite book. Ready to devour the wonderfully familiar knowledge yet again, but this ... oh damn, when all I saw was her bare, puffy lips, with their patch of hair neatly trimmed into a dark heart, I looked up. This was not the book I had thought to find.

"Your panties?"

"I took them off. I wanted to be naughty tonight. It felt so sexy to walk around with nothing on under this short of a skirt. Knowing I might forget and someone get to see me. Maybe even you. I've been wet all night at just the possibility of that. You seeing me."

Grinning at this sexy side of her I had never known, I looked down at that dark heart shape she had trimmed her pubic hair into. I brushed the backs of my fingers across it. "And this?"

She smiled. "You like it?"

"I love it."

"You should, you've always had my heart, my love ... now please Mark, please have my other one as well." Her hand drifted down and spread her butterfly like lips open. She rubbed shiny wetness across them making them glossy. "Please."

Leaning down, I stopped with my lips hovering just over her. I could smell the heavy scent of her sex--open and quivering with need--and I looked across that heart-shaped patch to meet her eyes.

"You never have to beg me to do this, Maggs. Never."

There are not words enough to describe the sweet taste of a woman when she is as wet as Maggie was when my tongue pushed into those open lips. I licked and lapped at the savory pudding, born of her passion, cleaning her lips, sucking them for more. Then into the heated warmth of her body I drove my tongue, trying to touch the back of her and wanting so badly to do it. I pulled into my mouth everything then, her nether lips, the hidden clit and that salty-sweet wetness.

I was in heaven.

She hissed when I took that swelling clit into my mouth and sucked at it. My tongue lashing the nub, batting at it, playing with it, all I could do and more to make her squirm. Her fingers closed on my hair and her thighs rubbed my cheeks as she hunched her ass towards my mouth, her moans begging for more. And more is what I gave. Sliding two fingers into her, I let my tongue lick between where they entered and her clit. Long, lapping strokes that had her purring.

Then Maggie was pulling at my hair, trying to get my attention. My face wet I looked up.

"You can make me cum like that on another night. I want you ... need you inside me now, Mark. Come here." I smiled as she tried to pull me up on top of her in her eagerness. Sitting up on my knees, I went to work on my belt only to have her move my hands and do it herself. When she pushed opened the tight leather pants and saw I was commando under them she smiled at the similarity we shared. She peeled the leather off my hips till my cock popped free. Maggs bit her bottom lip looking me over and then cupped my length in her palm. She slowly stroked the already hard shaft.

MSTarot
MSTarot
3,097 Followers