The Dancer and the Masks by Bea Paige
Chapter 17
CHRISTY
The Masks take their seats whilst Thirteen stands before me, her unusual grey eyes watching me carefully. She reaches for my face, her fingertips sliding over my skin as she cups my cheeks, and presses her mouth against mine, the act taking me off guard. I want to push her off me, then I remember who she is to The Masks and how they whipped me for talking back earlier, how they just flayed the skin on Twelve’s back, so I don’t.
Her fingertips gently stroke my skin as the tip of her tongue edges its way between my lips. Around us some of the Numbers giggle, and I hear one of The Masks clear their throat, a sound that is more warning than anything else, but she ignores them all. My lips part of their own accord as I accept her kiss even though I’m confused by it. My heart hammers in my chest as her tongue slides over mine and warm liquid rushes into my mouth. I struggle a little, but she holds me firm until I have no choice but to swallow or choke. The sweet taste of watered down honey, and something else I can’t place, washes over my tastebuds. When she’s certain I’ve swallowed whatever she’s just fed me, she strokes my tongue gently with hers once more then pulls back. Something shifts in her gaze and without opening her mouth, a thousand words are spoken, some innate understanding passing between us.
Trust me, her expression says.
With an almost imperceptible nod, she draws her hands back and steps away, taking her place at the table. The skin on my back smarts, and my pulse thrums with a truth I’m yet to uncover.
“Now that we’re all here, the feast can begin,” Leon says, his eyes focusing back on me. Despite the pretty hue, there’s a darkness to them that’s undeniable. Whatever chivalry and respect he’d shown to Thirteen, it’s gone now, completely obliterated by the deviant need he hides within. “Lay down, Nought.”
“W—what?” I stutter.
Konrad smirks, picking up the discarded leash. “You heard him. Lay down.” I see the threat in his eyes, and the desire to whip me again. It reminds me of my recent debasement and I bite down on the sudden cry of pain as I shift position, obeying their command. I do it not because I can’t take another punishment but because I don’t want to be humiliated in front of these people. “Five, if you please,” Konrad says.
From the corner of my eye, I see Five stand and move around the table, as comfortable in her nakedness as I am wearing clothes. A thread of jealousy assails me. I may have accepted who I am, but I’ve never been completely comfortable in my own skin. This woman isn’t confined by her looks, she commands attention. The jealousy I feel is quickly replaced with trepidation as she reaches for a knife from her leather strap. What do they mean to do to me?
Sensing my urge to bolt, I feel strong hands wrap around my ankles and know without looking that it’s Jakub. His callouses scrape against my skin, sending shockwaves of sensation through me. I can’t quite figure out if his touch is revolting or, God forbid, pleasurable. Either way, that brief physical reaction is replaced with fear as Leon presses his hands on my shoulders, pinning me to the table.
“You might want to keep still,” Leon says, drawing delighted laughs from some of the Numbers, though, tellingly, not all.
“What are you going to do to me?” I whisper, hating how afraid I sound.
Konrad chuckles. “We’re here to eat dinner… so that’s what we’re about to do.”
“You mean—” Tears burn my eyes, pooling on my lashes as disbelief washes over me. Surely they aren’t going to…? I struggle against their hold, a burning desire to fight is raging beneath my skin. I will not die like this.
Konrad pins down my bucking hips, his smile widening as he looms over me, his dark hair flopping forward over his blood-red mask. “We’re not cannibals, if that’s what you’re thinking, Zero.”
“Oh God,” I exhale, instant relief making my body go lax. For a terrible moment I had truly believed that I was their dinner.
“God won’t help you, though if you ask for the Devil you might be rewarded,” Leon says, his upside-down face smiling down at me as he rests his hands against my shoulders.
“As you know, Zero, we do have a thing for blood,” Konrad interjects. “There’s something so carnal about making a woman bleed, don’t you think?”
“No,” I bite out, swallowing hard, my anger only tempered by the feel of a sharp, cold blade at my throat.
Five appears above me, her long braid tickling my cheek as Konrad and Leon lean back, giving her space. “Keep still,” she warns, her dark eyes flashing with sympathy. “I won’t hurt you.”
“Okay,” I whisper, something in her gaze telling me that I should trust her. Maybe it’s because I know she’s a victim like me, or maybe it’s because of the warmth in her dark eyes. Either way, I don’t move.
Gripping the high collar of my dress, she holds the knife vertically towards my throat then slices through the material. When the tip of the knife kisses my breastbone, she pulls back just enough for me to breathe again. My pulse thrums loudly in my ears, and before I can even take a breath, her deep berry lips are pressed against mine in a kiss so warm and kind that I barely feel the nick of the blade as she makes a tiny cut in my skin, just over my clavicle.
“I’m sorry,” she mutters against my mouth before pulling back and resting the knife on the table beside my head.
She just cut me!I want to ask her why, but she steps out of the way, returning to her seat as Konrad removes his hands from my hips, grabs the material at my throat, then yanks hard. The dress splits down my middle, the sound of cotton tearing, reverberating around the hall.
A sudden rush of cold air rolls over my skin, fear and the change in temperature causing my nipples to harden into puckered points. My chest heaves, and I automatically reach up to cover my breasts, but Konrad is back, pinning my arms to my sides. He leans over me, his mouth just a centimetre above mine.
“Jakub may have locked up your cunt, but we all get to feast on your skin whilst we eat tonight, Zero. So be good, accept what’s happening, and we’ll make sure you’re rewarded.”
I want to tell him to go fuck himself, but my tongue suddenly feels heavy, my limbs too, as warmth spreads out from the place Five cut me. The need to fight back recedes to some distant place in my mind as a languid sensation washes over me in its place. I feel everyone’s eyes on my exposed skin, but I don’t try to cover up. Instead, I bask in this feeling as he sits back down, never once taking his gaze off of me. My toes curl, my skin tingling with the strangest sensation. It’s as though I’m lying in my garden back home, nothing but the summer sun warming my naked skin. I’m relaxed, content. The heat of his gaze, of their gazes, feels good. It feels better than good when it should terrify me.
“Everyone,” Jakub says, an instruction to do something, though I’ve no idea what.
I’m vaguely aware of Jakub and Leon removing their hands, and a frown creases my forehead in the absence of their touch. Why do I want it back? Why do I let out a whimper as though I can’t bear to not have them touch me again?
Somewhere deep inside I know I’ve been drugged, that the knife Five had cut me with was laced with something to relax me, to make me accept the unacceptable, but I can’t seem to even summon up the energy to care. So when One stands, her long black hair whispering over my bare breasts as she leans over me, my skin prickles and I remain still, content to just lie here. She pinches my chin between her thumb and forefinger, then lowers her luscious lips to mine. Her kiss is soft, warm, but it lacks the kindness that Five had shown me. Even in this state, I’m aware of that fact.
“Welcome,” she murmurs. Her thick accent is molten lava, a warning, as she picks up the knife and nicks my skin just above the curve of my left breast. I don’t register the sharp sting. I don’t even feel any blood pooling, and that’s not because I think I’ve imagined the cut, but because I’m floating on a cloud of indifference so unexpected that all I can do is lay here. More heat rolls out from her cut, adding to the intensity of the first.
“Pain and pleasure are the foundations of our existence, Zero,” Konrad explains, the throaty sound rumbling up his chest.
“It’s fundamental to the harmony of this place. Accept their welcome and you’ll be rewarded,” Jakub adds.
I do as he asks, unable at this moment to protest. Somewhere in the back of my head an angry little voice is telling me to fight back, to fight this strange floating kind of sensation, but another part of me, a bigger part, is unwilling to move a muscle. I’m not even sure I could if I tried.
One by one each Number welcomes me, always with a kiss on the lips, a cut to my skin, and a few muttered words. Some are more genuine than others. Six, Three and Seven are kind just like Five. They greet me with gentle kisses, sweet words and the barest of cuts. Four and Eight are indifferent, and Two makes a show at having to climb down from her cage to greet me. She takes a seat at the table with a huff after sliding the knife over the protrusion of my hip bone. I know without looking that it’s deeper than the rest.
Nine, Ten and Eleven go through the motions but lack any kind of empathy as they kiss, cut and greet me. I get the impression that this is all just a game to them. Something to laugh at, to giggle about like children beneath their hands. They lack depth, or maybe they’re just too scarred by being here under the thumb of these men to behave any other way. Not that it matters, I’m beyond the point of caring about anything or anyone right at this moment.
“These are the Numbers,” Jakub says, interrupting my thoughts with his accented words. “You will respect their place here, and their decision to remain. They do not need saving. Understand?”
I nod my head. “I won’t save them…” The words fall out of my mouth and yet they don’t feel like they belong to me at all.
“You will live alongside the Numbers for as long as we decide,” Leon adds, the threat in his voice unmistakable, though I’m not clear if it’s my life he’s threatening or Jakub and the power struggle they appear to have going on.
“The Numbers have earned their place here. They are valued,” Konrad continues. “You, however, have yet to earn the right to sit at our table, to eat with us. The first rule is simple. Obey our command.”
Obey, there’s that word again. It’s filled with meaning, strained at the seams. They want me to submit to their authority, accept my place here whether it be as a Number, an object of desire, of lust and hate. I should feel more fear. I should be terrified, in fact, but I’m not. Their words, whilst disgusting, do not disturb me like they have done so before. The edge of my fear has been removed, the heart of my hate quietened, allowing me to dive beneath the surface of my emotions into the core of how I truly feel.
Obeying someone’s demands means not thinking about any other option. It means allowing another person to take the lead, to let go of any responsibility to others, to myself. In a weird way it’s a freedom of sorts. A freedom to exist without consequence because the responsibility is firmly on someone else’s shoulders. My whole life I’ve been conscious of everyone else, bombarded by visions I don’t wish to see, of futures that aren’t my own. I’ve been responsible for people’s happiness and it’s a burden that has been exhausting to carry. Would it be so wrong to give up that responsibility? Would it be so bad to give over the power to someone else just for a time? Those thoughts surprise me, the clarity of my new understanding a double-edged sword. I’m aware that the drug could be skewing my views but equally, at this moment, I don’t care.
“Lay still whilst we eat. Let us fill our stomachs with sustenance, whilst we feast on your body with our eyes,” Konrad murmurs.
He reaches for me, his fingertips sliding over my cheek and down my neck until he reaches the first cut made by Five. A trail of heat follows his touch, my body relaxing under his command, my muscles feeling heavy under his scrutiny. I watch as he swipes at my skin and lifts his finger to his mouth sucking on my blood he collected there. I feel his hum of appreciation low in my belly.
“Delicious,” he says. “I wonder if your cunt tastes as good.”
Without warning, my clit pulses at the memory of Jakub’s lips against my delicate flesh. I react instinctively, squeezing my thighs together, the supple leather of the chastity belt tight against my core and providing friction in an already overly sensitive area. The sudden jolt of pleasure batters at the anger I’ve felt ever since they stole me, carving another notch into the thickened wall encasing my resolve to stay strong, to never accept my place here. Konrad has barely touched me and my body is reacting without my consent. I hate that. At least, I think I do.
Enough.That little voice inside my head grows louder, refusing to sink beneath this new sensation, this fakery. Fight, it says. Don’t let them control your pleasure too.
It’s enough of a jolt to make me ignore my pulsing clit and focus on the injustice of the situation, the reality. This isn’t about my pleasure. This is about their control.
“Dinner is served,” Renard says somewhere from the other side of the hall as it fills with men and women carrying trays brimming with delicious smelling food. I turn my head, watching them spill into the room. They’re dressed just like Nala had been. The women are wearing black knee length dresses and white pinafores, and the men, black suits with a white shirt and tie. A golden crest of three masks is embroidered on the breast pocket of the mens’ jackets and the lapel of the womens’ dresses. Steam rises up into the air around me as they place plates piled high with sliced meat and vegetables onto the table. I’m vaguely aware of my stomach rumbling, and realise that despite Nala bringing me food earlier today, I didn’t eat any of it. Not a crumb.
I watch with my head tipped to the side as Leon and Konrad are served lamb chops covered in gravy and steaming vegetables dripping in butter and herbs. My stomach contracts with hunger as I watch them eat, and I have the sudden urge to reach out and snatch a potato dripping in gravy from Leon’s plate. He catches my eye, spearing the potato and takes a bite, chewing slowly. My lips part as saliva pools in my mouth.
“Are you hungry, Nought?” he asks me.
“Yes,” I admit, my tongue peeking out from between my parted lips.
Leaning forward, he rests the gravy-soaked potato against my mouth but when I go to take a bite removes it quickly. My tongue darts out, lapping at the gravy left behind on my lip. The meaty taste explodes on my tongue and I almost weep at the loss of something that’s far more meaningful to my sense of survival than hunger. By allowing him to see my weakness, to tease me with something I want, I’ve let him control me. I should’ve grabbed the fork from him and slammed it into the back of his bastard hand.
“Be a good girl then, and you’ll be rewarded.” He smiles, then eats the remainder of the potato, reminding me who has the ultimate control.
Turning my gaze away, I blink up at the gold cage hanging above the table and try to focus on anything but the way I feel and the hunger in my belly. Around me the Numbers and The Masks feast on their dinner, their enjoyment interrupted only by the seemingly pleasant conversation. I don’t pay attention to what they’re saying, unable to grasp hold of anything more than a few words here and there. Right now, my body feels even less of my own than it does when I’m recovering from a vision. It’s both as heavy as the manacles that were wrapped around my wrists and ankles in the dungeons, and as light as one of the dust motes falling from the ceiling above me now.
Time passes, plates are cleared and I find myself drifting in and out of consciousness, bound only to the present moment by a casual touch here and there by the hands of my tormentors. Every now and then, Jakub’s calloused fingers reach for my foot or ankle, the rough skin of his palm passing over mine and sending bolts of unwanted electricity up and down my spine. His touch is certain, meaningful, but controlled, as though he’s going through the motions but refusing to reveal his true intentions. He lies with his touch. Hiding his wants and desires, suppressing them in the moment. The fighter in me wants to kick out, to shove my foot in his food and ruin it, to make him reveal what he’s hiding, but the heavy fog of this drug has reduced me to someone compliant, pliable. Again, it should scare me. I should be frightened, but I don’t even feel that.
Konrad is less restrained than Jakub. He touches me regularly and often. A hand pressing against my stomach, a finger trailing over my hip bone, another sliding under the leather belt at my waist. There’s a sensuality to his touch, but I’m not so under the influence of this drug that I’m fooled into thinking it’s affection. Ultimately, this man wants to inflict pain. That’s where his predilections lie.
Leon, however, his touch is more like a lightning bolt, certain in its intent, ruinous in its motives. There are no lies with his touch, only truth. I feel his thick fingers in my hair, twisting tightly as he leans over me to grasp another slice of meat rather than wait for a servant to dish it up for him. At one point, he grasps my chin and slides his gravy-soaked finger into my mouth, the taste bursting on my tongue, reminding me that I’m only fed because they allow it.
“Are you ready for dessert?” Renard asks after a while.
Everyone at the table stops talking, tension winding tightly in the air. My eyes flicker open. I hadn’t even realised I’d closed them.
“We are,” Jakub responds, an edge to his voice that makes my skin prickle with foreboding. “Leave us!”
One by one the Numbers bid their farewell to The Masks, a solemnness following them out. The staff clear the table around me until all signs of dinner have been removed. They retreat back into the shadowed corners of the hall, departing through doors I can’t see, into corridors that I’ve never walked down, until it’s just me alone once again with The Masks, naked, vulnerable and entirely at their mercy.