Ebony was nursing her vodka, sipping at it genially. The ice cubes had melted away, dispersing the strength of the alcohol- dulling the bite but not the effect. She was pleasantly warmed by intoxication. Excitement pulsed with her blood, touching every nerve. Any minute now a knock at the door would deliver her into a long-held fantasy. She grinned. Watching women play the role on her computer screen brought her to solo orgasm most nights. Fear and embarrassment had always held her back from seriously considering participating in a real public humiliation. The idea of being at the mercy of a crowd of people overcome by desire for her body was immensely appealing to her, yet a sense of shame had always kept Ebony to her bedroom. Eventually she had mustered the courage to search for service availability in her city. When she found it and contacted Mistress Emelda, she knew she had to do it.
And so she sat, in her waiting room, the minutes ticking by like honey drips from the pot- thick and slow. Emelda had put her at ease and warmed her libido. She was pre-heated, waiting to be scorched under the fire of a hundred strangers' hands. She pictured scenes she had viewed while wrapped in her blankets, scenes that had added intensity to the vibrator pressed against her clit. She wondered how similar her experience would be. Would she be attractive? Would she orgasm easily, or struggle beneath nervousness? She slid her fingers into the band of the crotch of her panties and smiled when they slid easily over her warm, wet labia. She dipped into her entrance and coated her clit with wetness then circled the firm nub beneath her middle finger.
A small moan escaped her open mouth and she clutched at her glass with her other hand for fear of dropping it. She increased the pace of her fingering, moving to the flicking motion she knew would call forth her orgasm. Faster and faster she slid her middle finger up and down her clit. A faint plipping sound matched the rhythm of her fingers- she was very wet. She set her drink to the floor and leaned back onto the bed. Her now free hand explored her cleavage, sneaking beneath the satin to pinch at her hardening nipples. Her heart pumped faster, adrenaline and oxytocin unfurling into her blood stream like dye into water. The walls of her vagina pulsed, hungry to be stretched by the penetration of a cock, or a dildo, or anything. A tightness grew in her belly as her moans grew more guttural. Her orgasm was moments away.
A knock at the door broke her concentration. The sound was an interruption to mind and body, and the slowly rising wave of her orgasm suddenly crashed just short of her body and spread its rolling pleasure out of reach, the small laps of froth a hint at what could have been. Breathless and almost frustrated she sat up. Drawing in a breath she snapped, louder than necessary "Come in!" The door swung open and a woman of about her own age stood in the entrance.
"They're ready for you now," she said softly.
"Thank you." Ebony's response was sweet, remorseful of her harsh tone. She stood, giddy with euphoria and trepidation.
"Are you ready?" The woman remained in the doorway. Ebony wondered. Was she ready? She glanced into the mirror. This is what she wanted. She was ready. Nodding at the woman, Ebony started toward the door. "Your heels?" The woman pointed at the floor in front of the bed. Ebony felt her face smoulder with embarrassment. She hurried over and slid her feet snuggly within the patent leather, then rushed back to the door to follow the other woman out. She was tall and incredibly thin, a praying mantis in lingerie. Hanging from her bony shoulders was a blue mesh shift, a translucent covering that shielded naught of her night sky bra and panties. Ebony wondered what her role was.
The trip down the hall was fast, the woman in front had the longest legs Ebony had ever seen. They came to a set of doors, tall mahogany wood with large brass handles. They looked heavy. Even through their dense structure, the murmur of chatter and laughter could be heard. The room was undoubtedly full of people waiting for her arrival. Ebony took a deep breath; her hands were trembling, the skin of her chest quivered beneath her pounding heart. The leading woman opened the door on the left and ushered Ebony in. They were concealed by a floor to ceiling curtain of heavy, blood-red velvet. The narrow opening where the two curtains met billowed gently, allowing tiny peeks into the space beyond. Fifty or so people, men and women, milled about, drinking, laughing and talking. Ebony's eyes bulged at the sight. This was suddenly very real. Behind the curtain, they were not alone. The woman led her over to two men who leaned against a leather chase set upon a massive, round cut of shagpile carpet.
"Guys, this is Ebony." The men looked at her with obvious attraction. A nauseating coldness welled in her diaphragm as the woman winked at her and said "Have fun."
"Hey Ebony, how you doing?" Ebony turned to the voice, the man to which it belonged was beautiful with short blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and a cheeky pink smile. Ebony smiled meekly and found she could not speak. The other man gestured for her to approach the chase. It was wide and long and about hip height. Two people could comfortably lounge here. She mentally berated herself for being so fearful.
This is what you asked for, Ebony. You've seen it a hundred times. You know the process. You know the rules. This is it.
