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From: adam <asb148@email.psu.edu>
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Subject: Story: THE MASQUERADE by PoohStix
This is a story written by my fiancee. She is somewhat shy and totally
computer illiterate. Therefore, she has asked me to submit this story
so that everyone can enjoy reading her material.
The author goes by PoohStix. My email address is asb148@psu.edu
and I would like to have all comments/flames sent to me. Please at
least give me some response so that I know whether or not the story is
posted. Thanks in advance.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
This is a work of ficiton and is sexualy explicit. If laws in youre
community forbid you from reading this then don't!!!
You have been warned.
I did not write this. However, all praise/flames should be sent to
asb148@psu.edu where they will then be fowarded to the author.
THE MASQUERADE
Because of an unforseen emergency, her lover was called from her side
just hours before the fabulous Autumn Masquerade was to commence. Her
disappointment was bitter, and though her lover tried to persuade her
otherwise, she resolved to spend the evening at home alone rather than
attend the party without him by her side.
After he had gone, she wandered aimlessly about, taunted by the
haunting beauty of the gown she had wanted so desparately to wear to the
Ball. To amuse herself, she decided to put the gown on just to see how
she might have looked on his arm. The dress was exquisite--a creamy
silk embroidered with angels in gold and devils in red. The bodice laced
up tightly to the breast with a thin leather lace. Amused by her
appearance, she continued her game of dress up--dusting her blushing
breast with light gold powder, whitening her already porcelain
complexion to emphasise deeply darkened eye lashes and lips, stained
with a deep russet hue. She piled her delicate curls up in a cascade of
ringlets which framed her face and added to her angelic appearance. To
her tresses she added a tiara of fragrant red roses and innocent day
lilies. Standing before her mirror she was enchanted by the nymph-like
creature that had emerged from beneath her ordinary appearance. She
felt a force deep within her pushing her toward the door and as she
stepped into the Indian Summer night, she felt her body come alive with
a vitality she had never before known.
She had never been inside the ancient Gothic mansion where
the Ball was being given. As she stepped from the car she thought she
heard the sound of a thousand women sighing with unspeakable pleasure.
The night was thick with primal noises, noises barely covered by the
civilized sounds of music and laughter inside. The doorman took her
cape and handed her a mask embedded with rubies and pearls. She was
drawn, as if taken by the hand, into the vast ballroom where hundreds of
masqueraders swirlled to the somber chords of a haunted waltz.
Enchanted though she was by the scene--the lovers dancing
close, the beauty of the costumes, she felt quite alone. It was then
that she saw him. In a dark recess of the room stood a man dressed from
head to toe in black. The only exception to his habit was a hideously
carved red mask in the figure of a skull topped with an elegant black
hat with a large gold plume. His image evoked the death of Don Juan and
his presence was overwhelmingly felt by every woman in the room.
She was no exception, although her guilt at her attraction
to this mysterious figure was immediately felt as a pang for her lover,
cruelly missing from her side. Don Juan, it seemed, had caught sight of
her and was making his way through the crowded room to meet her. She
felt the dizzy headiness of excitement--even a bit of fear--wash over
her. In a moment he was at her side. She raised her eyes to meet his
and came face to face with the real horror of his disguise. The
carving, though a truely magnificent work of art was even more appalling
up close than it had been from across the room. She felt as though she
were staring into the eyes of Lucifer himself. The heat of the room
intensified--or perhaps her blood began to boil at standing so near this
conflagration of man. She kept the her own mask close to her face for
fear that this devil might discover her true identity. Just as her fear
was about to overtake her, he reached out his hand and touched her arm.
The fire that shot through her veins at his touch was
undeniable. He was awakening a part of her that had never seen the
light of day. Her senses intensified in an instant and she was again
aware of the sighs and orgasmic moans coming from deep within the
ancient house. She could smell the dying roses in her hair, the early
scent of decay that comes with the approach of winter--but above it all
she could smell the scent of a thousand erotic nights, exotic spices,
the dark perfume of men and women enjoying forbidden pleasures.
Before she realized it she had been swept into the crowd of
dancers on the arm of Red Death. He had yet to speak a word to her, and
yet she could feel his intentions in his firm embrace. He twirlled her
about in dance after dance. She was sure the fire growing within her
would consume her at any moment sending her straight into the flames of
hell. Even in her torment she felt a passion welling up inside that was
unlike any thing she had ever before known. He pulled her closer with
every turn. The music turned to frenzy in her ears and then suddenly
slowed to a droning that sent her nearly to the brink of madness. And
still he never spoke. The couples all around her blurred into smears of
gold and green, black and red. The laughter was at once maniacal and
angelic. Time began to escape her and she was certain that they danced
alone, the fever growing stronger and more virulent within her. She
began to muse that her life was slipping away when suddenly, the music
stopped jarring her out of her fantasy and restoring her will. He held
her tight but relaxed his grasp as she pulled away.
"I'm sorry," she murmered, "I must get some air..."
She turned from the eerie figure an hurried from the room.
She did not slow until she was on the terrace, the cool evening breeze
caressing her crimson cheeks. She could feel the heat rising from her
body like a glowing ember from the fire. She let the mask drop on a
nearby bench and wandered into the garden. Although the evening was
cool, her fever would not subside. Her mind returned again to the image
of Red Death swimming before her eyes. As she wandered through the
arbor she was increasingly plagued by the moans of lovers who had stolen
away to make love in the darkness of the garden. It seemed that she
could not escape their groans of pleasure and their climactic cries.
She covered her ears in desperation and ran from the garden not stopping
until she could no longer hear them.
She found herself wandering through the statuary, absently
caressing the naked marble figures--seeking their cool, smooth
surfaces--first with her hands, then with her cheeks and lips, then with
her breasts. She was drawn to a particularly grotesque creature in the
corner of the courtyard. Its huge winged form and leering scowl
identified it as a gargoyle, possibly more ancient than the house
itself. She knelt beside it to read the inscription at the base.
"Letchery" was all it said. Terror suddenly grasped her like a giant
hand about her throat. She stood and backed quickly away from the
hideous beast, never looking away for fear that it may come to life and
set upon her in its fury.
She never saw the form of the Red Death looming behind her,
but just as she began to turn away from the beast before she felt the
fire of his powerful grasp on her shoulder. She gasped and struggled,
to free herself finding her voice to scream just as his gloved hand
covered her mouth. He forced her to the ground and she looked up, eyes
wide to see the evil mask grinning down at her. His strength was
unfathomable. Her struggle was nothing to him. He held her down with
one hand and removed the other from her mouth. She began to see the
madness of her situation. She had wandered too far from the house for
anyone to hear her cries.
He put one finger to her lips to silence her. Then,
removing his glove, he began to gently stroke her breast. His fingers
came to the ties of her bodice and he quickly unlaced them, exposing her
breasts to the pale moonlight. He pinched at her nipples and she felt
herself stir deep inside with unexpected desire. Her fear sharpened her
desire and though she fought it with all her might, she knew she had
wanted this from the very start. He let go of her wrists and
momentarily she thought she could get free, but her pressed her down and
held her there, making it clear that she would not escape before he had
his way with her.
Her mind flashed to her lover and she felt tears well up
in her eyes. She was powerless to escape this monster, and were she
able, she was not sure she would have the will to resist. His hands
grasped her breasts now with a forceful, possessive hunger. He
scratched his nails up and down the length of her naked breast leaving
thin red lines on the white skin. Seeking under the folds of her dress,
he stroked the inside of her thighs, just barely fingering the hair
above. She was appalled by the pleasure that began to wash over her.
She felt the fire growing inside her and struggled to quench it for fear
of truely giving in to him.
With a sudden violence he tore her in two from the waist to
the hem. She was terrified all over again, but her renewed terror
intensified her pleasure. She redoubled her struggle to no avail. She
now lay completely naked upon the marble stones of the courtyard, the
cold stares of the statues growing increasingly cruel. He pushed her
legs open and his fingers sought her exposed flesh. She felt his
fingers move inside her, teasing at her clit and pulling gently at the
soft curling hairs. She moaned with pleasure in spite of herself and
writhed with each thrust of his hand. She was on the verge of climaxing
when he suddenly stopped and turned her over. Her face felt the
harshness of the rough stones as he caressed her buttocks andstroked the
length of the back with the plume from his hat. With one finger her
sought out and began to massage her anus. She bit on her lips to keep
from exposing her pleasure to him. He inserted his finger slightly and
began to thrust gently. She came close to climaxing again, but as
before, he stopped just before, denying her the release.
She was wet from his teasing and he seemed to chuckle
softly as he turned her again to face him. He pulled her up and placed
her hands at the opening to his pants. She shied away, but he grabbed
her hands forced them back. Trembling, she unbuttoned the pants and as
they slipped away from his hips she saw that he was hard for her and she
felt the darkness of his lust overtake her. She wanted him to fuck
her. She felt that she would die if he did not. His mind was still
elsewhere , and grasping her at the back of the neck he stood while
forcing her to her knees. He then forced himself into her mouth, all
the time holding her head to ensure the depth that he desired. He
moaned in ecstasy as he thrust again and again deep into her throat.
She feared that he would choke her, but groaned with the gluttony of his
hard cock filling her little mouth.
He pulled away suddenly and she raised her eyes, meeting
again the horror of the blood red mask and his endless silence. He
grabbed her by the arm and pushed her back onto the cold stone. Her
fear surfaced again as she realized that this was truely the moment of
no return. She held her legs together and closed her eyes, picturing
her lover in her mind and feeling the tears begin to roll down her
cheeks. It was nothing to him. He forced her legs open and pushed his
cock deep inside her. He thrust violently, and to her dismay she began
to feel her body move with his in the rhythm of passion. She raised her
hips so that he could go deeper, crying out as he thrust his cock into
her, harder and harder. Her mind fought what her body could not.
"Please," she cried breathlessly, "please spare me for my
lover's sake."
He paused for a moment.
"You have only to tell me that you do not want this and I
shall free you." The voice was hauntingly familiar. "Just tell me you
do not like what I have done to you and it will stop this very moment."
"I cannot," she sobbed, "you are lust itself and have
aroused in me a creature that I wish were dead."
"Say it is not true, my love" his hand reached to undo to
tie holding the mask on his face. He pulled it away to reveal the face
of her beloved looking gently into her wide eyes.
"My god," she gasped, "is it you?"
"Yes, my only love." His mouth covered hers in a
passionate kiss. Her arms grasped his body in a fierce embrace. Their
passion caught fire as his kisses showered every inch of her naked
body. He buried himself in her cunt and fucked her with his tounge. He
sucked at her clit, teasing and licking her until she came again and
again, soaking him with her juices.
Her strength renewed by her discovery and driven by her
hunger for him, she mounted her lover and took his cock inside her.
She fucked him until he was nearly breathless, moaning with her own
pleasure as he gently stroked her clit. She pushed him deeper and
deeper until they were both on the verge of climax and cried out as they
came together in the darkeness of the courtyard, their voices joining
the others in an erotic chorus of passion.
-PoohStix
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