Daisy didn't have to wait for long.
In fact, she had only a few minutes alone in the dimly lit room before the heavy door swung open once again. She expected to see either Edward or Lydia. What she didn't expect was a stream of strangers-or so she assumed. It was difficult to know who these people were, as each guest wore a mask. These weren't masks you'd see on Halloween, but rather the sort of elegant, attractive sort one might find at a masked ball. The men wore masks of silk, mostly across the eyes with holes through which to see, some which covered part or even most of the face. The women (and there were women, to Daisy's surprise) wore masks of silk, lace, and feathers.
All of the guests were dressed elegantly to match in tuxedos and ballgowns, although most of the gowns were rather risque. The neckline of one woman's navy blue silk gown plunged all the way to her pelvis. Belted just below her breasts with a slim lace corset, the gown lacked the usual modesty panel, revealing instead both her navel and her ample cleavage. Several women wore gowns slit up to the thigh or the hip. Most had long, flowing skirts, while a few were gathered at the hip to reveal much more leg. One woman wore a gown sewn entirely of revealing black lace; the absence of any undergarment was rather apparent, leaving very little to the imagination, even in the dim light.
The guests filed in, talking and laughing quietly, and arranged themselves on the available furniture all around the dais on which Daisy stood. She was acutely aware of the fact that she was not only naked, but her face was not obscured by any mask. She cast her eyes about the room, taking in what she could while trying desperately to avoid eye contact. Though the room was not particularly warm, she began to feel very hot.
Some of the guests had brought bags with them, little attaches or evening bags. Several carried in shoulder bags which seemed a bit out of place, but the material and construction of which seemed to fit the attire of the evening well enough. Perhaps it was a sort of sleep-over, Daisy thought.
There seemed to be a bit of a friendly argument in one corner of the room: a woman sitting on a man's lap was giggling and pushing his shoulder good-naturedly. The man seemed refuse her at first, but at last he lifted her off his lap and stood. Daisy's heart was already pounding, but it quickened as the man approached her.
He didn't speak. He put his hand up to her face and, to Daisy's surprise, shoved two fingers into her mouth. She looked at him in surprise, but knew there was no point in fighting back. He pushed the digits deep into her mouth, probing her tongue and the back of her throat. She grunted, but did not gag. Two more fingers slipped between her lips, and suddenly her mouth was full. His thumb stroked her cheek for a moment as he looked into her eyes.
Then Daisy felt his hand on her breast. He wasn't gentle. He grabbed a handful of her flesh and squeezed, lifting and tugging the ample jug. He shook it roughly, his fingers digging painfully into her tender flesh. At last he released her, then drew his hand back and slapped her right tit, hard. Daisy moaned around the fingers in her mouth. He did it again, and again, and again, until even in the dim light, her skin appeared bright red. With every slap, her tits jiggled and bounced against each other in a most humiliating way.
When the man appeared to grow tired of this, he grasped a nipple and aerola in his fist and shook it brutally. Although her flesh was firm, the whole teat shook wildly. He jiggled it first up and down, then back and forth, slapping and jostling her other tit even worse than before. When he released her, his hand was wet. He wiped his palm across her cheek, leaving a wet smear.
Suddenly Daisy realized another man had come up beside her. He grasped her other tit the way the first one had, but instead of shaking it, he merely pulled it, as if trying to milk her. Daisy tried to shake her head, but the fingers in her mouth prevented her. Eyes wide, she watched as the first squirt escaped from her swollen nipple. The crowd gave a little collective gasp, and a few tittered. The man seemed encouraged, and he gripped her harder and began to tug more vigorously. Daisy moaned from the pain, but that wasn't the worst of it. The next squirt was thicker, longer, and went further. The third sprayed so far, it actually dampened the lap of a woman sitting on the couch in front of Daisy.
The woman squealed and leapt up, trying to wipe the offending liquid away. There were more titters, and the woman leered at her companions accusingly. Then she turned back to Daisy. "You cow," she said-the first words anyone had said to Daisy since the guests had arrived. She pushed the first gentleman out of the way, and suddenly Daisy's mouth was empty of his fingers.
"I'm sorry," she managed before the woman slapped her across the face.
