Even beneath the mask on her face I can see her eyes widen as she takes in every detail of my own, the very sharp point on the horn, the brutal lines and edges. I expect her to recoil, what I don’t expect is for her to lean forward, closer to me and lift her dainty hand, her fingers running over the details of the mask, the tap of her manicured nails scraping against the surface.
I catch her hand as it drifts lower, closer to my mouth, and she sucks in a breath as I bring it away and then drop it.
Gently, I coax her to turn and urge her towards the stairs, Micha and Ace falling into step behind me. The door opens before we hit the top step and grasping Eleanor by the elbow, I tug her a little closer. Lest she slip away and get lost in the house.
I almost smile at that possibility. I was already buzzing to find out her reaction.
A couple of security guys show us through, their heads nodding in my direction, and both Micha and Ace pluck red bracelets, embossed with the Crimson logo, from the basket at the front of the house. Game for anything is what that color resembles.
“What are they for?” Eleanor asks.
“You don’t need one,” I tell her, guiding her further into the warmth of Crimson.
She glances around, noticing everyone else is wearing a wristband of some sort. “Why does everyone have one?”
Pretending not to hear, I guide her towards the bar. It’s early still, so the main area of the house is calmer than what it would be later on. Low music plays from a sound system that has been set up to run through the house, and can be heard on all three floors.
I had the house converted a few years back now. There are seven bedrooms underground, well bedroom is a term used loosely, the walls are made of glass so everything can be seen as you’re walking through the halls, each cube furnished with a large bed and silk sheets. There are other pieces of furniture in the rooms, chairs and such, but the bed is the main feature with links and rings for restraints and other tools to be used. Crimson has no judgement on people’s preference, as long as all parties are willing and in agreement, rules have been discussed and safe words exchanged. I guessed I was breaking my own rule by bringing Eleanor here without her knowing what she was walking into.
At the bar I order myself a bourbon and get Eleanor a glass of white wine.
“Maybe I wanted a bourbon,” she scowls.
I laugh, “Is that what you would prefer?” I lift a hand, ready to signal the server to change her order.
“No, but don’t just assume,” she snatches the glass from my hand and turns from me, showing me her shoulder. Fuck she looks stunning tonight. The dress I picked out perfect for her tight little body, all the curves begging to be touched.
I can see the usual faces in the crowds, even when their faces are covered by the masks, hands already drifting for touches and gentle caresses, bodies leaning closer as words are whispered and promises made. The tension grows with each minute the clock strikes.
It wasn’t a usual thing for us to do a formal theme, but the clients of Crimson appreciated a little variation every now and then, and masquerades had always been a favorite.
“What is this party for?” Eleanor asks, her finger idly tracing the Crimson logo on the napkin in front of her, tracing the gold letters and then the boarder of leaves and vines that surround it.
“So many questions, love,” I find Ace and Micha utilizing their time off, both having found willing girls to spend the night with, though I doubted it would be them they left with at the end of the night.
“And no answers,” she huffs, snatching her hand from the napkin, “are you going to tell me about the bracelets?”
We were the only two people not wearing one. I didn’t need one, people knew who I was and what my preferences were but her, the reason she didn’t need one was because she was with me and in white. The only woman here in white. Only I could touch her. Only I could please her unless I gave permission for someone else to do it.
Anything was a possibility.
How long would she last?
There were lines I wouldn’t cross, lines that, even with my questionable actions by bringing her here would only be stepped over if she was willing.
“No,” I answer her. I knew if I told her she’d make a scene, and I wasn’t quite ready to let her leave.
“Then what am I doing here?”
I glance down at her, “Learning.”
She places her glass down on the bar and crosses her arms, pouting, the movement causing her breasts to squeeze together. Such basic things that a man can be distracted by.
How long had it been since a woman had interested me to this degree?
“I expected something more,” she says.
I grin, “The night has yet to begin.”
_
Slowly the crowd in the front areas of the house begin to filter out, disappearing down the halls and into private rooms for those who want the space, others heading up to the more open areas for group activities or below, to the glass rooms. I remain with Eleanor in the bar, watching.
Her brows pulling down makes the mask on her face move, “Where is everyone going?”
The volume on the music is increased, a slow, seductive rhythm that seems to vibrate the very walls. It drowns out the noise from the other parts of the house, but if we were to step a little closer to that hallway the sounds won’t be so easily disguised.
Ace and Micha are nowhere to be seen. Several of my guys are stationed as security through the house.
“Drink your wine, love, and then I’ll take you for a tour.”
She doesn’t eagerly down the drink, she sips it, keeping her dark eyes on me. Trying to figure it out, trying to figure me out. I let her look, I let her see.
“Are you going to hurt me, Kingston?” Her voice is soft, tentative, unsure, but I’m captivated by the way her red stained lips move, how her tongue darts out to capture a drop of wine caught on her lip.
She goes to speak again when I don’t answer, but I don’t have the patience for more words. I coax her hand to her mouth, edging her to finish her wine, and she obliges, taking the last few mouthfuls before placing her glass on the bar.
“A tour now?”
I step closer to her, leaning down until our mouths are barely an inch apart. I can smell the wine on her breath, the scent of her shampoo and perfume.
“Stay close to me,” I tell her, our lips brushing. Her breath fans against my mouth ,and fuck, do I want to taste her.
Not yet.
Soon, I tell myself.
She sways, leaning closer but I keep her at a distance, close but not close enough, “Don’t wander off. Don’t go into any of the rooms and don’t talk to anyone.”
I’m sure she has questions, several of them but she doesn’t voice them. I tuck her arm into mine and head towards the hall where the music isn’t loud enough to cover the moans of pleasure leaking out from each door. Women cry out and men grunt, the sounds chaotic and erotic all the same. Her hand on my arm tightens.
“Are people having sex here!?” She shrieks. “What the fuck is this place?”
“Keep walking, Eleanor, there’s still plenty to see.”
I had planned to take her upstairs first but I can feel my desperation ripping at my patience, so I divert and open a large red door that opens up to a well lit stairway. She hesitates but a gentle tug gets her moving again, and we take the stairs slowly.
The music is purposely quieter in this section of the house.
The glass rooms for viewing also have microphones that record and link to speakers outside each room so people watching can both see and hear what is happening inside.
You can’t decipher which room is making what sound at this point. It’s just a riot of wet skin slapping together, of moans and groans and cries.
We come to the first room, a red theme flowing throughout where two bodies writhe on the bed. The woman is restrained by her wrists to the headboard, a blindfold across her eyes and her hips are pushed up by a pillow under her arse. The guy fucks her on his knees, fingers biting into the fleshy areas of her hips. Her head is tipped back in utter ecstasy as she climbs higher and higher, finding her release. One of many, I’m sure.
I glance over to Eleanor. Her head is turned towards the scene, her mouth parted in shock or awe I can’t tell without seeing her whole face.
I urge her on, coming to the next room. In this one there’s three of them, two men, one woman. She’s on her knees, palms flat to the mattress but her head pushed back, a cock in her mouth and one behind.
At this, Eleanor completely stops. Her body is stiff, but goosebumps have pebbled her skin and her legs are pressed as tight as possible.
Well, well, well…
Unable to stop myself I reach forward and run a finger up her exposed back, feeling that creamy skin under my hands. I press into her back, leaning down to push my nose into the soft spot where her neck meets her shoulder.
She lets me, angling her head subconsciously. I feel the sharp edges of my mask cut into her skin, hard enough to leave red lines on her soft skin. A small, barely there, whimper escapes her lips.
“Does this turn you on, love?” I whisper.