Authors: Roxie Noir
“Oh,” said Klea, with a gasp. A wave of low noise passed through the audience, and he brushed her nipples with his fingers again.
His face was next to her ear, the feathers tickling against her. “I said, put on a good show,” he told her, and then he grasped her tied-together hands and thrust them between her legs.
Klea could hear her heart beat, louder than the low murmur of the crowd of the soft rustling of the fire on the torches. She’d never done anything like this before, which was turning into the theme of her time working for the king. It felt like one thing to show a partner how you felt, and another to put on a show for a hundred waiting, masked men. She looked into the front row and saw the bulges there: every men, semi-erect, at least. Klea licked her lips.
Slowly, she spread her legs, keeping her bound hands in front of her crotch. This was what they wanted, right? Even as a whisper rushed through the crowd, even as she saw two men in the front begin to touch themselves, she worried that she’d read the situation wrong and what they really wanted was a dramatic soliloquy. She caressed her inner thighs, spreading her bound hands as far apart as they could go, she sat up straight and thrust out her breasts. The man in the red feather mask had melted away to the side, leaving her alone in the chair on the stage. Klea arched her back and scooted to the very edge of the chair, knees as wide as they’d go, and tilted her pelvis up so the audience could see her pussy.
With her left hand, she spread her lips open, and with her right, she began to rub her clit with gentle, soft circles. Back arched, tits out. Here she could feel the heat of the torches on the fronts of her legs, a little on her cunt, even. She looked down at the audience and saw that every single one of them was looking at her, most eyes between her legs but some on her tits, a few on her face. They were all men and they all had hardons; everyone whose crotch she could see, at least. A couple men had their dicks out already, tunics pulled up and over, hands firmly rubbing up and down the shaft. Just because they were watching her masturbate.
Klea rubbed herself harder, watched the men touch their cocks in the audience. It felt good to be admired and wanted, she thought; it felt good to make a hundred men at once hard without even touching them. Her pussy swelled below her fingers, the blood rushing in as she thought of every man, watching. She moaned out loud and it sounded like the audience moaned back, circling her clit faster and faster, feeling an orgasm swell deep inside and then, thinking of the show, she slowed back down. She rolled her hips on the wooden chair, bucking them back and forth. With one hand she circled her entire pussy, showing it to them, opening up the inner lips as well and pushing her fingers in and out, throwing her head back and moaning whenever she did.
The crowd got louder.
Klea began circling her clit again with her left hand, leaving just enough room to push the fingers of her right into her pussy. If her hands hadn’t been bound, she thought, she’d have put on a better show—grab her tits, lean back for better balance, but she worked with what she had, movving her hips back and forth on the chair, moaning with her head thrown back, rubbing her clit as hard as she could, and she felt her orgasm begin to close in, heated by a hundred sets of eyes.
“Oh!” she said, out loud.
“Come!” shouted someone from the audience.
“I want to hear you scream!” shouted someone else.
“Oh, my God,” she said, louder this time.
“Rub it harder!”
“I’m coming!” she shouted as the feeling burst up and out of her and she rocked her hips on her chair in time withe waves passing over her. “Oh god, yes!”
The crowd all shouted at once, a cacophony as they watched her writhe on the chair, one hand still on her pussy and one still in it, insensible to what she was saying. As her hips slowed, the man in the red mask walked onto stage with a bronze knife.
“Good enough to cut her free?” he asked the crowd.
“Yes!” they shouted.
He came around to her front, stood in front of her, between her thighs, and slashed through her rope bonds with that long bronze knife. It glinted in the firelight as the ropes fell away, and as they did, Klea grabbed for the masked man’s leather briefs and pulled them down, freeing his erection so forcefully that it nearly sprung up and hit her in the face. The crowd cheered, and she took the long shaft in both her hands, moving off the chair and onto her knees, turning to the side so that everyone could see. It filled both her fists leaving the head free, long and straight and the color of honey. She felt herself begin to get wet again, just holding the beautiful cock in her hands, in front of her face.
The man in the red bird mask grunted and put his hands on her head, tilting his face back so she could almost see under the mask, but then he firmly guided her mouth onto the tip of his cock. His hands on her head were like iron. Klea swirled her tongue around the tip of his dick and then his hands guided her head down the shaft, hitting the back of her throat and pulling back. She used her spit to lubricate it, pumping her hands down it once before he pushed her mouth back onto it,
this time pushing harder at the back of her throat. The men in the audience got louder and louder, cheering on the blowjob, the noise swelling every time she took the cock in her mouth. She couldn’t turn her head to see them, but from the corner of her eye, she knew that even more of them were masturbating, their long hard cocks out in the open, hands stroking up and down.
Klea closed her eyes and, on the next stroke, opened her throat, letting the masked man’s cock all the way in. He grunted loudly and pushed her head against his body, her lips nearly touching his balls, her nose in his public hair, and then he growled. Klea’s eyes began to water as she held her breath. The crowd got louder, shouting encouragement, and then the man’s hand released her head and she slid the cock all the way back out and back in, bobbing her head up and down on it.
As she did, she reached one hand down to her pussy, feeling the charge there, getting wetter and wetter with every stroke of her head on the dick. The men in the audience hooted at her.
“Touch your tits!” one of them shouted. “Put your pussy juice on your tits!”
Klea pulled the cock out of her mouth and plunged three fingers into her pussy, hips bucking involuntarily as she did, then spread the sticky fluids on her left breast as she took the cock back into her mouth, all the way in, then all the way back out. Someone in the crowd groaned loudly and then the hands were back on her head, in her hair, using it to pull her off, turning her and displaying her for the crowd, one sticky hand on her breast, one still at the base of his cock.
“Make me come on your tits,” he said, not letting go of her hair. Still facing the audience, she pumped her right hand along the shaft once, twice, and he was closer than even she had thought because he threw his head back and came in thick, ropy white strands that splattered across her chest and stomach.
“Rub it in!” someone shouted, and so with both hands she gathered the translucent fluid off her skin and rubbed it all around her torso, circling her nipples with her fingers, thrusting her hips forward back. One hand made its way back down to her clit, the other still on her breasts, and she rubbed in circles as the crowd shouted her on. She spread her knees further apart, still kneeling on the stone floor, and leaned back on her other hand to give the audience a better view, her cunt feeling the heat of all those eyes on it, all those men jerking off to the sight of her pussy. It felt so strange to be masturbating alone on a stage, but at the same time, so freeing to show off for a crowd like this.
She came hard, front still sticky with the masked man’s fluid, hips pumping up and down as she rubbed herself fast and hard, the men in the audience shouting as she collapsed backward, her knees bruised from the hard floor, but behind her was another man who grabbed her under the arm and helped her stand up. He wore the brown bird mask and nothing else, and he stood behind her, his erection against her ass, rolling her nipples in his fingers, letting his hands drift up and down her body. He put one hand between her legs, cupping her pussy in his palm, and then lifted up that leg, tilting her to one side, opening her up for the crowd to get a good look at.
“Should I fuck her?” he asked them.
They shouted yes.
“Like this?” he asked, rubbing the length of his cock against her pussy, the head nudging against her clit. Klea moaned and reached for her clit, only to have her hand held away by the brown-masked man.
“I don’t think so,” he said, still rubbing himself against her wet, waiting cunt, rubbing her swollen clit with the head of it. “I want you to beg.”
“Beg!” shouted the crowd.
Klea could feel her pussy practically gushing, throbbing for that cock. It was almost cruel, she thought, for it to be so close.
“Fuck me,” she said.
He pushed the head against her lips, then slid it back out. Klea moaned, the sound turning to a disappointed whisper. “You can do better than that.”
“Please fuck me,” she said, not a woman used to begging for it.
“How?”
“Fuck me hard,” she said. “Fuck me with your big, beautiful cock. Please fuck me.”
He slid the head in again, pushed a little further, and slid it back again. Klea nearly screamed in frustration.
“I think you should beg me on your knees,” he said, and pushed her down to a kneel.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Klea took his cock in her hands and slid her mouth over the head, tasting her own juices, and then pushed it down her throat until she felt his balls on her chin and his public hair tickled her nose, then pulled it back out, the thick member coated now in her saliva and pussy juice. God, she thought, this would feel so good in my cunt. Her cunt throbbed in response, feeling swollen and hot between her legs.
Finally, when she thought he was about to come, the man grabbed her hair and pulled her back. “Stand up and bend over,” he said. “Show them that nice pussy.” A groan went through the crowd, and as she stood and bent, Klea could see that nearly every man had his tunic up around his hips, erect members all out. She spread her legs, ass facing the crowd, and put her hands on the floor, arching her back and displaying her cunt to them all. A ripple of appreciation went through them. Then she felt a hand on her lower back, and a moment later, a hard sting on her ass. She gasped and wobbled, off balance for a moment, but heard the crowd approve.
“Spank her again!” someone shouted. Right away there was another sting on her other ass cheek, the first one still on fire. It felt as though the very edge of his hand had grazed her swollen, ready pussy, sending sparks flying through her body. Upside down, she bit her lip and whimpered. A third slap landed, again on a new spot, again edging on her cunt. Without realizing it she lifted a hand to her clit, began rubbing it, the sensation of being spanked and wanting so badly to be fucked getting the better of her.
The man in the brown feather mask laughed. “I think she’s ready now,” he said, and took both her hips in his hands. He plowed into her, his entire cock all at once, so hard that Klea nearly lost her balance. It sent an intense wave of pleasure through her like an electric current, reaching all the way to her fingertips and and toes, and she moaned out loud.
“You like that?” the man asked, half to her, half to the audience.
“Oh, yes,” she groaned. “Oh, fuck her harder.”
He complied, pulling out and burying his cock so deep with his next thrust that Klea saw stars. It was all she could do to keep from losing her balance, legs spread wide, hands on the floor, cock slamming into her pussy making her almost delirious. She came without even realizing the orgasm was near, in front of a hundred men, the only sounds the wet slap of their fucking, her moans, and the slick sounds of masturbation in the audience.
“Keep going,” she gasped when she finished, finally able to hold her head up.
“You’re an easy one,” the man said. “God, your pussy feels good.”
Klea smiled and pushed back into him, trying to get him deeper and deeper. When she lifted her head she realized another man was standing a few feet in front of her, the man in the blue mask. The man in the black mask sat on the wooden chair she had started on, watching.
Without missing a beat, the man fucking her from behind grabbed her elbows and held them above her back, lifting her torso up and putting her head exactly at the other man’s erection. The man in the blue mask took a step forward, took her head gently in his hands, and pushed his cock all the way into her mouth. He held it there, all the way in, for a moment before pulling out, using slow, steady, almost gentle strokes, totally different from the way the man in the brown mask was furiously pounding her pussy, the feeling exquisite and electric, grunting and moaning.
“I’m gonna come,” he announced to everyone. Klea groaned onto the other man’s cock, halfway down her throat, and he moaned in pleasure. Then she felt the first man pull out, and a moment later, his hot, sticky cum landed on her back, and one final slap landed on her ass. The crowd shouted, and Klea saw a few jets of white spurt up, and she saw more men groan and cover their cocks with their tunic, emptying themselves into the fabric.
The man in the blue mask pulled his cock out of her mouth, put his hand on her chin, and stood her up. His eyes looked black behind his mask and he searched hers for a moment before looking down at her body, sticky and covered in fluid. The crowd went completely silent.
“Do you like to be fucked in the ass?” he asked.
The crowd went wild. Klea could only nod, suddenly feeling her heartbeat in the bud of her asshole, nervous about fitting his whole member into it. Then she remembered the centaurs, how she took a whole centaur cock up the ass, and how it hadn’t hurt at all but felt incredible instead, felt so good she almost hadn’t been able to move. The man smiled and turned her around and she willingly bent over, offering up her hole, a little afraid he’d plunge straight in like the other man had.