Sehnsucht Ch 12 The Party

A Party for The Mistress

"Let's raise a glass!" says the Lady while holding out her goblet. "I am very proud at all that you accomplished to prepare for tonight. Felice, you especially. I do hope your Mistress appreciates your hard work as much as we have."

We all clink glasses and take a drink. Horace is in a very giddy mood while Clothilde continually reprimands him in her big-sisterly way. I remain preoccupied with maneuvering in my costume, which is much tighter than I had expected.

"In just a few moments we will be opening the doors to the ballroom and the party will commence. If you have any concerns during the fete, you are to report to me. If I am indisposed, then you are to find Pet," says the Lady.

Standing next to Clothilde, I am both comforted and excited. Her bountiful breasts stuffed inside the bodysuit are impossible to ignore. After she left my room last night I dreamt about being pinned to the bed with her hovering over me. My arms restrained with Clothildes twinkly eyes peeking out from her mask. Begging to touch her, I was seconds away from having her within my grasp when I was woken by the alarm clock.

"Everyone. It is now time to take your places in the ballroom," the Lady announces.

The doors open to reveal a spectacular transformation. I fail to even recognize the room. What I once perceived as old-fashioned is now a room of luxuriant textures. Velvet, leather, silk, and decadent sections specific to one cause or another. Clothilde, myself, and the other servants, also in bodysuits, form two lines and stand in perfect stillness. Each one of us holding a flaming torch to light a path for the guests entry.

As it was told to me, guests would be brought to this residence via motorcar while blindfolded to maximize discretion. Staff would be required not to refer to anyone by their given names. Since we are ordered to be silent, Clothilde and I establish eye signals as a form of communication in-case we need to have words.

When the guests start arriving, I'm finding it difficult to keep from gawking. I can hear voices and laughter behind their masked faces. Once the ballroom is full, a bell is rung and the guests become quiet. We are then to change spots by positioning ourselves at the perimeter of the room.

At the center, a tall masked figure appears floating above the surface of the floor resembling a dark creature of the forest. Her gown is a long ombre of greens and greys with a fishtail train, her long arms adorned with buckskin gloves, and her delicate face framed in a high collar. I'm aware of the Lady's presence as she arrests the room into submission.

She begins speaking in her distinctive melodic voice. "Greetings guests. We thank you for your participation and prudence. Each one of you has been invited here tonight to slip into your shadow and unearth your darkest desires. As you can see, the Master and Mistress of this home have generously spared no expense, and our exemplary staff has dedicated many nights and days to bring you this fete. Be reminded that even though they are here to serve and amuse, their safety is my charge. Any guest who violates this will be removed from any and all future invitations. The exterior doors will remain locked until zero three hundred hours, after which time you will don your plain clothes and be escorted back to the designated meeting area. Please join us for our midnight toast, followed by a performance piece by Lord Copperpot, not to be missed. Let the night begin where goodbyes end. Sehnsucht."

I caught Clothilde writhe and cover her mouth at the mention of Lord Copperpot, who I assume is Horace's stage name. The bell rings once more, and Clothilde and I return our torches to their sconces and make our way to the kitchen to collect the hors d'oeuvres, returning back to the floor as quickly as we can. My mind is racing too fast to question the utterance of the word Sehnsucht, mentioned at the end of the Lady's speech.

In one corner there is a man dressed like a pony, wearing a saddle on his back, a bridle in his mouth, and a leather tail protruding from his derriere. He is making horse sounds while his mistress hits him on the buttocks with a riding crop for being unruly. I want to turn to Clothilde and laugh, but her eye signal catches me at just the right time. It is a blessing that my face is covered.

"Vat do ve av ear?"

says a guest while taking one of the treats off my plate. Since I am not to respond, I hold still. Pretty soon this becomes the pattern. Strange guest comes, asks about the hors d'oeuvres, I stand still, and soon they realize that I am just an object or a source for their amusement. Unfortunately, Clothilde becomes the amuser and gets fondled and groped repeatedly.

While encountering a guest wearing a rabbit costume, I hear a crashing sound. Clothilde's tray and all of it's food has been spilled on the floor. A very irate guest is yelling at her and demanding her to clean up the mess. I am about to get down on the floor and help when a familiar voice whispers in my ear.

"Leave her," he says.

I recognize the Strangers voice. He is wearing the suit I remember fondly, and a simple black mask. He grabs an appetizer and walks away.

When I look back, Clothilde is gone.

I begin to make my way around the room with my tray observing the festivities. At one point, I catch sight of my Mistress belittling a very tall woman in a ridiculously elaborate maids uniform. My Mistress' abusive tone is unmistakable, and I feel a strong urge to distract her so the maid can escape further humiliation. Upon closer observation, however, I observe that the tall awkward maid is not a female after all. When I realize it's my Master, I walk away hoping I'm not recognized, forgetting that I am completely covered head to toe.

"Where is Clothilde?" I say to myself while scanning the room. I head back to the kitchen with my empty tray. A servant sits in the corner crying very audibly while being consoled by another. Not Clothilde. She must be somewhere. I get my tray filled and head back out determined to find her.

It appears that guests are now congregating into one space or another and have taken less of an interest in food. In one corner, there is a man who appears to be enjoying electrocution by a naked rotund woman adorning lots of jewelry. It becomes apparent that more guests have taken to watching and observing the pain and suffering rather than participating.

I keep walking, careful not to seem too anxious. I notice a group of guests gasping in a circle and take a peak. That is when I see her. She is walking across a mans back, graceful like a tightrope walker, trampling over his buttocks with the encouragement of the crowd. The man is shrieking in what must be pain or delight. I am so enthralled by this vision of her, that I fail to notice the fondling that is going on behind me, beside me, and on me. She flips him onto his back exposing a fully erect phallus, and that is when Clothilde kicks his cock with her boot. I am so shocked and alarmed, not just because of the potential injury, but because his phallus continues to grow. I begin to become aroused, so much so that I find myself grinding lightly against an inappropriate stranger. If I did not have this tray of food, my hands would be free to do harm. Soon I become sandwiched between onlookers, enjoying the scene before me of Clothilde being worshipped by a subordinate, the self-pleasuring of the guests, and being anonymous in a sea of deviance.

Before I have fully succumbed to my desire I see the Strangers eyes, staring across from me. Unsure of his disappointment or approval, the sight of him watching me pulls me into a deeper trance. And just as soon as he appeared, he disappears. By this time, Clothilde is getting more aggressive and I can see some of her red locks peering from her mask. She continues moving like a prize fighter, her ripeness in full force, oozing of war and fertility. A Goddess unleashed. All eyes want a piece of her, as do I.

It is then that a quick and quiet exchange ensues between The Stranger and Clothilde, and before anyone has anytime to notice, Clothilde is removed from the scene. The poor subject on the floor gets whisked to a quiet den, where he is later seen being comforted by a motley harem.

I have not seen my Mistress and Master again after the big spectacle. I go back to the kitchen and see my Clothilde with her mask off guzzling water from the faucet. She is breathing hard and sweating profusely. All I want to do is rip off her body suit, pin her to the ground, and suckle her breasts. Breathlessly she says "Horace needs our help soon.....we need to stay here."

The servants are filling up the glasses with champagne in a hurry and bringing them to the ballroom. The bell rings and Clothilde grabs me and we head to the school room. Before we go inside, Pet is at the door and utters the first words I have ever heard him speak. Noticing hints of a Slavic accent he says very seriously, "starting now, you will follow Horace's orders until the last guest leaves. No questions."

My heart is racing. There is no time to ask Clothilde what is in the works. Abruptly, Horace opens the door and shuts it. He gives us the following instructions: We are to follow ahead of him to the stage and stay behind the curtain. We are not to look behind us no matter how tempted. Both myself and Clothilde will be at one side of the stage and when Horace gives us his command, we are to drop the curtain for the performance to begin. After that time, we are to each take a flaming torch and position ourselves facing front. The final commands will be given to us when the music begins to settle.

We make our way ahead of Horace, aware of some peculiar noises trailing behind. Standing in our designated places on the dark stage, Horace gets to work. I can hear his labored breathing and whispering as if he is communicating to spirits. If it was anybody else, the sounds would be disturbing.

I begin to focus on the noises on the other side of the curtain. I hear the midnight toast, as well as laughter and applauds. I am scared and tired of these high boots. We must have been standing for at least 30 minutes before Horace whispers in each one of our ears.

"At the count of 10, you will drop the curtain. Do not startle yourselves at the guests reactions. Grab your torches and stand still," he says. Clothilde makes a snide remark to him and at the slow count of 10, we drop the curtain.

A huge loud gasp is heard from the crowd followed by enthusiastic clapping. Had Horace not reminded us, I might have turned around. After grabbing the torch, the music begins playing. A melodic dark tune with moments of thudding drums to injections of flowing horns. I begin to get hypnotized. My mind imagines Horace performing a dramatic dance for the crowd in a tattered ballet costume. His performance captivating the crowd with high jumping, fluttering kicks and demonic whispering.

The music begins to settle. And that is when Clothilde and I are given the cue to post our torches and to turn and face each other. We are then instructed to start pulling slowly on a satin sheet, keeping the tension and our bodies as still as possible. It is difficult not to look over and see what we are pulling against. As the music begins to build up tension, the fabric begins to yield more easily. It is then that the stage lights go out, and the music begins to reach its crescendo. At the last pull, we release the sheet and let it cascade to the floor. When the lights return, the crowd gasps again followed by deafening silence.

I discreetly position my head so I can see Horace's work. It's a masterpiece. The stage resembles an enchanted forest taken from a child's dream or nightmare.The scene looks to be an elaborate tree with thick roots made with entwined sisal rope. Hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the tree, is a cocoon like shape. Inside the capsule appears to be a human body trapped in the center. I realize that all those nights and days of Horace's absence were to accomplish this feat. He is gleaming and prancing the stage while the crowd goes wild.

I catch Clothilde's face, and notice her eyes smiling behind her mask. She begins blinking her eye signals at me, and I am failing to understand her. I look closer at the body in the rope cage, and soon comprehend the magnitude of Horace's achievements.

In all of the excitement I find myself losing my footing, and begin to fall backwards. Next thing I remember is being handed a glass of water in the school room. I drink it feverishly realizing that I may have ruined Horace's performance. I try to speak and I am immediately hushed. Lady Thisbe whispers closely in my ear.

"Don't let him hear your voice. Just be quiet. Clothilde is going to take you upstairs," she says while dabbing my forehead with a wet cloth.

I look around and see my Master blindfolded and tied to a chair quite passively. Clothilde assists me upstairs to my room, while I hear the crowd chanting from the ballroom. I feel drunk with dread.

She has me sit on the edge of the bed and takes off my boots. I can finally wiggle my toes. Clothilde removes her mask and shakes out her hair. The sweat drips down her face. She helps me unzip out of this suffocating costume, and it feels so decadent to be free of it that I roll around on the bed blissfully. Clothilde removes her boots and throws them across the room, along with her costume. We both excitedly get under the duvet and touch skin to skin. Our hearts beating very fast and loud.

"I've been wanting this for so long," I say breathlessly.

"I know. I think you fainted on purpose," she says smiling.

"So you could rescue me," I say.

"So I could kiss your sweet lips," she says while moving her mouth towards mine.

When our lips finally meet, our bodies melt as one. The taste of her mouth is like a bouquet of flowery pineapples. Our legs wrap around each other like branches and I can feel the prickle of her hair below, while my nether region releases its juices on her thigh. As the kisses become more frequent and desperate, our bodies entangle tighter. Dismissing my thoughts of my Mistress trapped in the cocoon of rope, I grab hold of Clotilde's red locks while she places her hand between my thighs. I am so wet with excitement and the build up of tension, that I immediately erupt. It is not long after that Clothilde follows suit. Still even after our tensions release, we continue holding each other tightly as if it's our last night on earth.

Everything I dreamt about Clothilde did not compare with this night of raw lust, love, and admiration. And up until now, I never knew that giving pleasure to someone would intensify my desire. The taste of her sweetness, thrusting her hips back and forth, the panting and heavy breathing, and the words of encouragement spewing from her sultry lips cannot compare with all of my experiences since I became employed in this household.

Unsure if I dreamt it or not, Clothilde and I continued to build and release until the early morning hours. When I wake up, the reality of the night's events hit me and I begin to shudder. Clothilde is no longer encased around me nor in my room. I hear some commotion in the hallway, consisting of footsteps and muffled voices. A foreboding washes over me, and I know I must get dressed at once. I open the armoire only to find that my old uniform, my worn coat, the satchel, and the gifted boots are all that remain. I scan the room unable to find a trace of anything out of order.

At my bedside table, there is no note or goodbyes. Just a single lock of curly red hair, shining in the morning light.

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Sehnsucht represents thoughts and feelings about all facets of life that are unfinished or imperfect, paired with a yearning for ideal alternative experiences. It can also be a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves.