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I watch her descend the stairs. Half a dozen hands extended, offering to accompany inside the room. She glances warily between their masked faces. All of the guests are men, of course, and she seems to realize this just as she comes to the conclusion we're all wearing black tuxes. There's no telling who's who.
She looks at the three masked figures before her and I see her swallow before taking one of their hands.
The song rings out in the room, classical, beautiful, fast. The figure swirls Pandora across the dancefloor, and I step aside along with the rest of our guests to give them room.
As the classical song echoes through the luxurious room, Pandora's eyes dance over us, trying to pick me out in a sea of people she doesn't recognize. She's passed on to another dancer, and then another one. She allows them to carry her around the dancefloor as if she's a mannequin. She lets them do anything, everything, and my frown transforms into a smirk as she starts to realize this is the night she's feared for a week now.
The night of her taming. The night she admits she's my toy before all of these people.
Her dancing partners pass her between them, and soon enough, it's my turn. I take her hand, her gaze focused on the audience as I twirl her on the dance floor. I grip her waist, too tightly. Her eyes scan over my mask. An inkling of recognition sparks in her eyes, but before she can figure it out, I've passed her along to the next masked figure.
The dance carries on and on, trying to make her as dizzy and disoriented as possible. I have a task waiting for her, but because I'm a sick bastard, I'm going to make it extra difficult for her.
Once the song nears its end, a chair is put out in the middle of the room. Her dancing partner sits her down and the rest of us
close in around her, crowding her, until we're embarrassingly close. I'm to her left, and I can see her tits tremble with each inhale of breath.
"First challenge, my toy." Pandora glances up in fear as my voice rings out through the room. The speakers boom with a pre-recorded message, and I watch with sick satisfaction as Pandora's cheeks flush a deep scarlet. "Are you ready? You're going to make someone come. You won't know who it was, so you'd better make peace with that now."
I watch her face fall, the crowd jeering and laughing at her. She flushes. She's going to cry. My cock demands to be the one she picks, painfully straining against my pants. Pick me. Pick me. Pick me.
Someone in the crowd spins her chair, and she faces masked people, too fast to know who's who.
My voice on the speaker tells her she must yell stop, at which point the person in front of her will use her as they please until she makes them come.
"Stop!" Pandora suddenly screams, holding her hands to her face. I want to groan in anger. She didn't even try to find me. She's frustrated, nearing hysteria. She trembles as she comes face to face with a man the crowd has pushed forward, tall and intimidating, wearing a plague doctor's mask.
He unbuttons his trousers. A single move of his hand orders Pandora to get on the ground.
She's trembling as she gets up from the chair. The man laughs as she kneels before him. Jealousy mixes with adrenaline in my veins and I'm the biggest high of my life. Knowing she wants me, that she'll endure this for me, because of me, makes me hard. I love torturing my toy. I'm going to fucking love watching her get passed around.
Pandora looks up with trusting eyes and the man, whom even I don't recognize, pulls out his cock. It's thick and pierced at the top. Pandora gasps when she sees it.
"I don't think I can-" she starts, but the man cuts her off by showing his thick cock into her mouth, just like everyone was instructed to do. Pandora spits and sputters but keeps him in her hole. Her eyes stare at his mask. I wonder what I'm doing to her will give her wet dreams or nightmares.
I watch with fisted hands as the man fucks her mouth. She relaxes soon enough - I taught her well. I watch until the man spurts, pulling out just in time to spray the front of her dress with his seed.
She cries out, once, twice. I soon realize it's my name she's saying. She needs me.
This time I step forward. She faces me as I pull off my mask. I click my fingers and the rest of my men step out from the audience. Pandora whimpers, crawling close to me, and I pet her hair as she kneels next to me, looking down into her tear-streaked face.
"I'm sorry, Master," she whispers. "I didn't want to..."
"You did exactly what I wanted you to do," I tell her calmly. "I'm proud of you, toy."
A nervous, uncertain smile pulls her lips upward. She's so pretty like this. Used, almost breaking, desperate.
"There's one more task ahead of you," I say. "See these men?"
She looks at the three other figures, nodding.
"You know who they are?"
She glances at me before nodding again. I nod for the men to take their masks off. The rest of the audience watches from behind their disguise, but Pandora can see Easton, Julian and Caspian clearly now.
"Your last challenge is here," I say, tugging on her hair and making her look back at me.
"What is it, Master?"
