"It's called 'Nigrovum'," said one of the masked men. "Drink up: it'll make you feel fantastic."
All the naked people finished the drink quickly; Candice drank up with particular enthusiasm, since her ketamine high was already very powerful, and she hoped this drink would augment her buzz greatly. The masked men took the empty glasses out of the room.
A voice on an intercom suddenly said, "Vicky: go into the next room to be examined." The aboriginal woman went into the room.
The other girls were getting nervous, wondering what was going to happen. Were they just going to dance erotically for their guests? Were they going to give them lap-dances? Or were they going to have to prostitute themselves? Would they have to do degrading things? Did the drink have the date-rape drug in it? Would they be raped? Would they be beaten and abused? Being naked in front of men whose faces they couldn't see only worsened their fears.
Who were these men?
"I'm scared," said sobbing Li-ping. "Where's Mayor Wilson? I feel much safer with him."
"Don't worry, sweetie," Camilla said, putting her arm around the pretty Taiwanese girl. "We'll protect you; I promise."
"What if you
can't
?" Li-ping asked.
"Where's Hank?" Jasmine asked, looking around the room anxiously. "I don't like this."
"Neither do I," Dora said. "Where's Superintendent Lewis? What about our money?" She sensed something menacing about those grinning masks.
Camilla felt Li-ping's body trembling with fear as she had her arm around her. Though she hated to see the pretty girl so frightened, she was getting excited from touching her soft skin; she was also getting impatient about when the fucking would start. "When is this being in limbo going to end?" she asked.
"Not too much longer," said a masked man. "When the party proper starts, you'll be feeling so good, you'll see just how much it was worth the wait."
Though Candice didn't like the affection Camilla was giving Li-ping, the ketamine, on which she was now peaking, made her feel impervious to the pain of jealousy. Also, she was biding her time looking at Jasmine's pretty face.
Li-ping, dying from all the suspense, put her head on Camilla's shoulder, and Camilla gently kissed her on the forehead. She also gently stroked Li-ping's left buttock. Camilla was breathing heavily and getting wet. Li-ping just continued softly sobbing. "Oh, don't cry, sweetie," Camilla said. "It'll all be over with soon enough."
"Why my mommy have to be so mean," Li-ping said between sobs. "If she nice to me, I wouldn't be a stripper, and not here, this scary place. If she nice to you, you not fired. I'm sorry for what she do to you."
"I'll be OK," Camilla said, hugging Li-ping closer to her. "I don't like my mommy either. I got away from her, and I'm glad. You're right to get away from your mom, too."
"My mommy make me be a stripper," Li-ping said. "I never want to; I just want go to university, study engineering, and do respectable work."
"After we finish this job, you'll have so much money you'll be able to pay for your university and living expenses ten times over, I'm sure of it," Camilla said, kissing Li-ping on the cheek. "You'll be able to get far away from your mom. Have faith, and hang on until the end of the night."
Apparently, Vicky was finished in the other room, for the voice on the intercom said, "Sandy: it's your turn. Go in the examination room." The blonde woman nervously went in.
Sandy saw Vicky, frowning, walk out another door opposite the one she used to enter. In the small, well-lit room, Sandy saw a dozen masked men, also in expensive, almost identical black suits. They were sitting on chairs arranged in a circle. Again, the masks were of the same grotesque design, with unnerving grins. It frightened her to be the only naked woman in the room, especially with her pot belly, flawed skin, and gas. All this among men she didn't know, whose facial expressions were hidden, so she had no clue as to what they were thinking.
"Come in the centre," a masked man said in an Italian accent. "So we can all get a good look at you."
"What d'you wanna do?" she asked with a tremulous voice.
"Examine every inch of your body," another masked man said, in a French accent.
"Why?" Her whole body was now shaking.
"Because it pleases us to know everything about your body," a third masked man said, in a German accent.
"Well, OK, but...can I use the bathroom first?" asked, quietly farting. There was a powerful faecal odour that embarrassed her.
"No," said the first masked man. "You must piss and shit later."
"But...I'll stink up the room," she said, on the verge of tears.
"We're enjoying the smell," said a fourth man in a Russian accent. "It's a fetish of ours."
"Sit on the floor and spread your legs," the second man said.
She squatted down on the floor, and when she began spreading her legs, she farted audibly. The men chuckled, sniffing away gleefully. "You have a trumpet bum, my dear," a fifth man said in a Spanish accent. She started to cry.
"Don't be embarrassed," the third man said as he bent forward and looked up close at her pussy. "We like nature's smells." He fingered her cunt, opening the labia wide.
"Your asshole fascinates me," said the third man. "Get on all fours, and point your ass at me. I want to see your asshole up close."
Still sobbing, she did as she was told.
Who are these men?
she thought; What are they thinking? What do they want? Are they going to fuck me, or just look at me and humiliate me?
The German spread her buttocks open wide, and brought his face near; she broke wind again, but silently. He felt the breeze against his face, and breathed it all in.
The men continued fondling her all over, having her turn around so every man could see every inch of her body; she continued farting and crying. They made comments in their own languages. It was driving her mad not to know who they were, or what they were saying about her body. She tried to remind herself of why she was here: to get the money so she could provide a better life for her baby daughter. She had many hands feeling her up simultaneously, grabbing her tits, squeezing her ass, patting her on her pot belly, tickling her pubic hair, groping her vulva, and touching her legs. They made her feel like a piece of meat, not a human being. All those eyes looking up close at every goose-bump on her skin, knowing her anatomy better than she did, and she had no idea who the men were. After every man thoroughly examined her breasts, buttocks, pubic hair, pussy, asshole, legs, and feet, feeling around inside and out, she was asked to leave. She gladly left, though not without an end to her crying.
Vicky, in the next room, put her arms around her. "Don't cry, Sandy," she said. "Remember what's at the end of this ordeal: all that money."
"That money had better be there!" she shouted in sobs. "That was so degrading; they made me feel like an animal. But I gotta do it, for my beautiful baby. I don't want her to grow up working class, like me."
Candice went into the examination room next. The ketamine made her feel protected from the masked men's ogling and groping: she simply didn't care about all those probing hands and judging, faceless eyes.
Then Calina went in. Her horny exhibitionism was tempered only by insecurities about how the men would react to her hairiness; not being able to see their faces, and not understanding the languages she heard made her even more nervous. Only the Russian's remarks eased her mind: in Russian, he said, "I want to feel that pretty hairy pussy tickling my face." She hoped to get a fuck from him later; she'd have to try to remember his mask, purple, with a long beak nose. Those 24 hands feeling up her breasts, buttocks, pussy, and asshole got her soaking wet between the legs.
