The Hunting Party (Part 3): The Court of the Crimson King
The small crowd gasped in unison, an almost reverent sort of hush following it, the vacuum of anticipation seeming to suck any and all sound straight out of the room. I could actually feel myself get a little wet with curiosity, my whole body still thrumming a bit from my encounter in the changing room, and now positively alight with anticipation towards whatever might have happened next. You’ll remember, I had never actually made it in before. Never found myself this close to the actual ceremony, itself. This was something of a fist. And while I had heard a few times, from a few different people, about what the experience was like, I had never quite gone through it myself. Had never really walked down the gauntlet.
And then, there I was. Masked and surrounded by similarly-masked individuals, the colored streaks across their blank, Venetian faces the only indication as to who might be hidden underneath that cold, glimmeringly polished porcelain plastic. The tall one in the direct center of the circle stood still, his hands high in the air for longer than I assumed was comfortable. No way I’d have been able to do that, willingly. I found myself wondering just how many of these ceremonies this particular person had presided over. Did something like this ever get boring? Could something this outrageous ever become rote, given the sufficient amount of repetition? “Yeah, just another Illuminati Sex Ritual in that giant castle /mansion / cathedral thing that’s somehow just right there in the middle of a super busy city. Also known as Tuesday, am I right? This guy gets it.”
I was snapped out of my dumb little day dream, though, when I noticed that everybody around me was doing something just a little bit peculiar. It had been happening for a moment, and I had sort of noticed it before I consciously clocked it. Now that I was aware that everyone around me seemed to be doing the same thing, I was able to pay attention more closely to the person next to me and figure out what was going on: Everybody was reaching into what appeared to be a little pocket sewn into the sides of their cloaks, hands reaching up to touch mouths after the gesture was completed. I glanced around, and then started to gently fish around in the folds of my own robe, feeling the thick, almost terry cloth-like fabric brush against my slender naked body underneath. I was, at this point, doing my best to make it look like I was not doing exactly the thing that I was, in fact, doing, which was try to locate what I assumed was a little pocket that everybody seemed to have in their robes. I kept my movements small, so as to not make it clear that I was just blindly fumbling around in this massive, unfamiliar garment, until my fingers finally caught on a little pocket, just narrow enough to be useful for exactly the thing it contained. Which was a small, single white pill. I then figured out what the second part of everyone’s gesture was.
I figured it was safe enough, if everyone else was taking it, and mentally hoped that Hale-Bop had not decided to make another appearance and I had somehow missed it on the news. Ten minutes later, and I had confirmation — whatever I had taken had mildly tipped the scales in a more pleasant direction. My body buzzed and throbbed, gently pulsing and wanting to be touched, and the room swirled delightfully around me. The slight swaying of those nearby told me they were experiencing the same thing, and after a few minutes, everybody seemed to have joined on the same wavelength, the energy in the room shifting palpably as everyone connected in a way that simply could not be explained in words.
The black-robed figure in the center then lowered his arms, and the individuals on either side of them lowered their robes, in response. Amazingly, the male was already erect, his cock standing out in front of him, powerful and impressive. The woman on his opposite was similarly well-endowed, her slim frame and protruding hip-bones complemented attractively by full, swollen breasts, large nipples standing ready and at attention. I licked my lips. I wanted to suck on them. I found myself imagining myself up there, the images splashing vividly over my field of vision whether I wanted them to or not. I saw myself spreading my legs wide for her, and arching my back with the uncontrollable pleasure that came from her expert eating of me. I imagined the feathery down of her her hair as I ran my fingers through it while her tongue played hide-and-seek with my clitoris, bringing me closer and closer to orgasm with each gesture and movement. I felt like I could tell, just by looking at her, that she was an outright architect with her mouth. And those breasts. I wanted to hold them. To feel my face against them. I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter as I imagined how thick those nipples would be in my mouth. Saw myself sucking on them, flicking them with my tongue, running my lips over them as her fingers slid inside me.
And it was my own fingers I was feeling, as I realized I had started to finger myself there, under my robes, right in the middle of that room. I froze, my heart pounding, hoping desperately nobody had noticed me. That nobody had caught me doing what I assumed was a breaking of the rules — probably they were not like, “No yeah, go ahead and just masturbate right there in front of everyone, we’re super into that sort of thing.” and I had already been made aware that this was a place that operated on a relatively strict, and very consistent adherence to its rules. But after a moment, I realized. These robes — perhaps intentionally so — were big and roomy enough that it hadn’t really been made apparent what I was doing under them. I was almost positive this was by design, the more I thought about it. I moved my hand back to my side under the robes, and saw that the movement wasn’t really visible on the surface. I moved my hand back to my now-sopping pussy, and still nothing. I glanced around and almost defiantly slid a finger back inside myself, wondering how many others near me were doing the exact same.
Probably at least a few, I figured.
And now there was more movement on the dais. I watched, frozen, as the woman took a few steps up and then laid herself down on the long, rectangular platform that I now understood to be a sort of ceremonial bed. There was a pillow on one end of it, and she rested her head there, getting herself comfortable. Once she had found her spot, she spread her legs wide, and the male participant stepped to the end of the bed and lowered himself. Only once he had his head well in between her legs did he lift his mask, at which point he began to eat her, lovingly. She moaned, loudly, her head rolling back with the unbridled ecstasy of his mouth on her clitoris and vulva. It wasn’t easy to see him from my vantage point, but the movement of his head suggested that he attacked his task with an enthusiasm and vigor that radiated its way throughout the woman’s entire body. I could see her muscles trembling, ripples of pleasure convulsing and pushing their way up and down her muscle fibers as she raised her hips, positioning her body to meet his face and grinding herself against his mouth to encourage the further onrush of pleasure. She came, and it was apparent, one hand latched hard onto her erect nipple, her moans took on an fervent pitch and his head seemed to almost become subsumed within her body, her grinding hips moving up and down in waves, her vulva seeming to open up and swallow his entire head as she came harder and harder.
After a moment, he lowered his mask and climbed up onto the platform with her. Her hands sought all over his body, caressing every single ripple and ridge of his muscular form, and I felt like I could practically see their flesh leaping up to conjoin with one another, melding outwards to join the two of them in a deepening spiral of carnal pleasure and existential bliss. I could see her reach down and take him in her hand, the fullness of his shaft in her grip causing her to gasp audibly, barely able to contain her expression of excitement at the prospect of having that penis inside her.
She coaxed him to her lips, and I could feel myself getting wet with anticipation as I watched her tease her own vulva with the head of his shaft while his powerful arms stood taut and rigid as they worked to hold his body above hers. Finally I saw her eyes roll back and jaw go wide as she pushed him into her, the space within her widening to accommodate his girth and his mass as he lowered his hips and dove himself deep within her. He pulled fluidly out before thrusting back in her as part of the same motion, a quick and fluid pushing of himself into her that he repeated faster and faster. Her moans rose up to the ceiling as he fucked her, deeply and passionately, her hands running over his body and exploring his shaft even as she coated it with an increasingly thick layer of her cum. I watched his hands, well-defined and powerful, explore her body: Squeezing her hips as he tunneled himself inside her, caressing her breasts lovingly before pinching her nipples to compound her pleasure, his cock pushing deeper and deeper inside her as he did so. After a while I realized I had two of my own fingers deep inside myself, working them up and down and coaxing myself closer and closer to an orgasm of my own as the couple fucked on the platform in front of me.
I could see her fingers digging into his flesh, carving their marks into the sinews of his body and encouraging his penetration, pulling him deeper and deeper inside of her and melting herself more and more thoroughly around him as she did so. I could see their bodies, spinning and stitching and becoming a combination of each other as they fucked, harder and more passionately, their fluids and faces swirling together to form a living, writhing cloud of passionate bliss. She worked her hips up and off the table, fucking him every bit as much as he was fucking her, and for a moment I saw him stop his movement, holding his hips still above him. She took over without skipping a beat, working her hips up and off the platform to fuck his cock as he hovered above her, her pussy eagerly devouring him, sliding up and down his generous shaft, stretched wide and stuffed full of pleasure unimaginable.
I found myself coming at the same time as the woman on the platform, her body vibrating out of control with the telltale indicator of her decidedly powerful orgasm, mine vibrating in tandem along with it, my own orgasm sending jolts of electricity through every part of my body, from my nipples to the tips of my toes. I circled my index finger around my clitoris, drawing out the waves of prolonged pleasure, which then spiked as the man I was watching came, as well. He moaned, making a sound for the first time, pushing himself deep into her as he came, her hips rising to meet his and their connection remaining as deep as it could go for as long as either of them could bear to keep it there. I saw his powerful muscles pulsing and flexing as he came, and felt my own body do the same, relaxing only once he pulled out of her, slowly and deliberately.
At this point, the crowd started to disperse, individuals beginning to make their way to various parts of the party. It was actually kind of funny, because you could clearly tell that some of them were still recovering from the aftermath of a particularly powerful orgasm. I certainly counted myself among them.
So that was it. The Main Event, as it were. The party was by no means over, but what I had just seen was said to be the Big Deal about coming to this place, to begin with. I certainly didn’t feel misled. There was something about that ceremony that felt very intentional. As though not just anybody could do it. As though something that those two specific people brought to the table (pun intended) had made it what it was, and had caused it to become more than just the sum of its component parts. I decided that further research was necessary, and told myself I’d remember to investigate further.
In the meantime, I wandered around the massive mansion, taking in the art and sculptures, and looking to see whose eyes I could actually fit in with, under one of those blue and orange masks. The evening brought with it no shortage of things to see, and I really could have passed the night just wandering around and looking at shit, if I was being completely honest. My surroundings pulsed and swirled, gently agitated by the movement of either myself or those around me, like still-liquid watercolor paints, arranged just so on the top of a puddle, that swirled and bled together if you dipped your finger in.
I wandered the party, stopping here and there to look at those who decided to engage in the more voyeuristic versions of the night’s activities. For those who cared to, there were little raised platforms, bed-like and rectangular, that sort of rose out of the floor here and there, throughout the various rooms in which the party was taking place. These were basically spaces for just anybody to get down and dirty in whatever form they pleased, and were mostly utilized by those, I assumed, who particularly got off on the idea of people watching. I stood, transfixed, watching as a man went down on his partner, staring blankly at his lips stretched wide over that incredibly veiny cock, watching them paint its shaft up and down, realizing after a moment that I probably would have had the dumbest expression on my face ever, had it not been for my mask. I watched, frozen in admiration at this guy’s incredible skill, as he vigorously went down on that impressive penis, his lips closing over the tip of the head with a practiced precision and grace, before running their way up the side of the shaft and opening up again to take it deep into his widened throat. I almost came right there, one of my fingers idly massaging my clit. After a moment, I made my way into another part of the party, this room featuring a large, bed-sized platform at its center, which itself featured a writing and convulsing pile of bodies on top of it. I had to stare at it for a quite a few moments before I was able to discern four unique individuals, each one of them thoroughly involved with either the fucking or sucking of one or two or three of the other participants. It was truly a sight to behold, and after I watched for a good few minutes, I noticed that someone had been standing right next to me, watching as well. When I turned and noticed them, they turned and noticed me right back, our eyes meeting from under that mask. His orange streaks told me he was male, and that was about all I could tell. But he cocked his head at the doorway, inviting me out of the room, and I felt a surge of excitement bloom up inside my chest, a rising wave of butterflies that made me wet.
Once we had left the fourgy room, the man turned to me and made a complex-looking symbol with his hands and fingers. I was pretty sure this was supposed to be an unspoken invitation of some sort, and he looked at me expectantly. I realized, at that point, that I wasn’t really sure what I was agreeing to. But I was more or less prepared for everything, and I knew what I was walking into when I stepped through those doors an hour or so earlier. So I just nodded. He turned, and I followed.
He led me into another room, another part of the party, this one more or less empty. It was quite a lot bigger than all of the others, and along each wall was a sort of recessed panel that was the same color as the walls, coated in a crimson velvet. The man walked up to one of the panels, and I quickly realized that they were all doorways, each one spaced out wide enough to accommodate what I assumed to be rooms behind those walls. The man slid a card into a little slot on the right side of the door, and it opened to reveal a crimson-lit room, just big enough to be fit in a queen-sized bed, and a shower on one side. We both entered, and I heard the door behind me. It was cool, the air well-circulated from unseen fans.
The man then took off his robe, which I had not been expecting. I froze, unsure as to what would happen next. I watched, nervous, as he then removed his mask. He was wearing the same thing I was wearing underneath it, a sticky-applied domino mask, which was just enough to cover the area around his eyes, but not much else. I could see then that he was…well, he was handsome as hell. Even with the domino mask, he had a clearly impressive jawline, and the rest of his body followed suit. He might as well have been the ripped and girthy dude from the ceremony, for all I knew. It was enough. I shook off my robe with a flourish, and my body coursed anew with hormones and anticipation, whatever I had taken earlier kicking back in again to double my pleasure, double my fun. Once my own mask was off, he came to me, taking me in his arms and pushing me into the bed. I spread my legs in response and pushed his head down and between them, feeling my entire body melt and ripple into his as he began to eat me. I felt like every ounce of cum I had ever had inside me was leaking out of me then, pulsing out of me like a lava flow as his tongue danced on my clitoris and vulva, painting my already wet lips even further and sending my clit into uncharted regions of blissful pleasure.
I came, hard and into his face, my body tensing and releasing over and over again, the pleasure compounding as he dipped one of his own fingers inside me, and I could practically see myself opening up to consume him, just as I swore I had seen the woman do earlier. I imagined my body taking him in as he ate my pussy, my lips quivering and sucking his body inside me as I orgasmed around him, our bodies melding and combining into one as he subsumed himself within me.
When I could practically take no more, I reached down and gripped him by either side of his head. I pulled him up to me by his chin, reaching down with my other hand and taking his hard cock into my hand. I could feel it, large and powerful in my grip, much bigger than my small hand, and covered in impressive veins. I wanted it inside me, to feel its textured and contoured shaft just barreling inside of my body, filling me with a kind of pleasure I had only dreamed of before. I teased my lips with him, then, inviting myself open with the head of his cock, the wetness that spilled out of me teasing him and setting his own nerve endings alight. I could feel his body tense, powerful muscles tightening as I guided him inside me, filling my body with his cock inch by inch.
Eventually, he was all the way inside me, his shaft pushed as deep as it could go, testing my limits and making me feel as though as I were just about ready to burst with pleasure, spilling my cum and juices all over everything that might happen to be in the near vicinity. He was fucking me, then, the stimulation so powerful and so intense that I found myself reflexively digging my nails into his love handles, guiding his hips into me with the fervor and intensity of one posessed. I ground my hips against his, my body straining in its effort to invite his pleasure into it, driven by its desire to be filled with him in that moment. Appropriately, I felt him whisper, hotly into my ear, “I’m going to come.”
I ground my hips against his, my pelvis drinking in his cock as deeply as possible in one final, deep fuck, before I slid him gracefully out of me and stroked him gently with my hand, my fingers slippery thanks to my generous coating of juices and cum. After a moment, I felt him, coming powerfully in my hand, his cock flexing and pulsing within my fingers as his warmth spread on my body, his entire being coming against mine. Even though he wasn’t inside me, I came as well, my own vulva pulsing and clenching along with him. We laid there for a moment, sweaty and entangled.
After a bit, though, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I climbed on top of him, and slid him back inside me.