The Dancer and the Masks by Bea Paige

Chapter 33

CHRISTY

Time passes.

One moment I’m being carried in Konrad’s arms, the next I’m strapped to a wooden frame, my wrists, ankles and forehead fixed in place with leather cuffs.

I can’t feel my body.

I try to wriggle my fingers and toes, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t move a muscle.

I can’t even cry.

Jakub fed me the elixir that numbs my body but keeps my mind awake.

I’m in the Room of Fantasies.

Internally I scream, I fight, I rage, but externally I’m a puppet waiting for the puppet masters to bring her back to life.

Trying not to panic, I take in my surroundings, thankful that at least I can move my eyes. As far as I can tell in the dim light, I’m in a room with vaulted ceilings, hundreds of candles casting shadows around the room. I sense people moving within the shadows, beyond them.

Even though I can hear, see and smell, I don’t feel a thing. This isn’t The Quickening, I’m not turned on by the slightest touch, a whisper of air, or the heady thrum of lustful moans surrounding me.

I’m a shell. Empty.

Hollowed out.

Unfeeling.

All I can do is watch. I’m wide-eyed and staring into shadows. I’m unable to fight, unable to move as the room comes alive before me. Slowly, one by one, five gilded birdcages are lit from above, revealing the sweat-slicked, moaning, writhing bodies within.

My senses are flooded, overwhelmed with scents and sounds, moans and movement.

Naked bodies. Entwined. Contorted.

Fucking.

A female voice sings. Not Six this time. This voice is higher, lighter. A soprano. It’s beautiful, angelic. Twelve steps into the dim light cast by the sputtering candles placed around the room. She looks sad, empty, but sings with such broken beauty that I wished I could set her free from this unrequited love she’s trapped herself within.

She sings like an angel as sin unfolds around us.

In one gilded cage I see the flash of a red lipsticked mouth around a cock. At first I can’t tell who it is, but then I notice the long dark hair and see the tears streaming down One’s face as a man holds her head in place and fucks her mouth roughly. But she takes it, deep throating him with the ease of a woman who has experienced such a thing before and enjoyed it. Below her spread legs is a woman I don’t recognise, her face buried in One’s pussy. I watch as One chokes and gags but is pleasured at the same time.

In the next cage Four and Eight are wrapped around each other, kissing passionately, feeling each other’s breasts, both getting fucked from behind by two masked men, their bodies pushed together with every punishing thrust.

The cage alongside that holds Seven and Three. He fucks her from behind, her body pressed up against the golden bars, his fingers buried inside her pussy, his hand around her throat as he’s whipped by a man wearing black leather chaps, a cowboy hat, a leather studded mask and a hard on.

Next to that, in the fourth cage, Six is on her hands and knees, a gag in her mouth and a chain around her throat as she’s fucked by a woman wearing a strap-on and a pretty, red mask, her pendulous breasts swaying as she moves.

Further along in the next cage, the triplets are all tied up in rope, contorted into different positions to allow easy penetration. One man is fucking Nine’s mouth as she hangs horizontally from the arched roof, her arms pinned to her side, her legs lifted off the floor. He holds onto her shoulders, using the momentum as she swings to deepthroat her mouth. Beside her, Ten is bent over in half, moaning in pleasure as her chest is pressed against her legs, the rope keeping her in position as she's fucked in the arse. On the floor of the cage, Eleven has her legs spread wide with rope as another man fucks her missionary style, whilst his meaty hands grasp her tiny breasts.

Swinging high above them all is Two. She’s naked, her blonde hair flowing free as she fucks one of the guests, their bodies glistening with sweat, his mouth around her nipple, her hand around his throat.

And standing outside each cage are several men and women all in various states of undress, touching themselves, each other, as they walk from cage to cage, drinking champagne, snorting coke from silver trays laid out on tables around the room, watching everything unfold.

When one person finishes with a Number, another person steps inside the cage and it all starts over again. They all moan, groan, scream in pleasure, and the air around us fills with the musky scent of sex, choking the air with lust and sin. Every single person getting high on it.

It’s an orgy. A painting of sin and debauchery.

It’s wild and raw.

It’s frightening and erotic.

It’s sinful.

And strapped to a wooden frame on the far side of the room is me.

Vulnerable.

Alone…

Until I’m not.

Until a man old enough to be my father steps away from the group of people watching Six get fucked, and turns his attention to me, cock in hand, obsession in his eyes.

The Baron.

I know it without needing to be introduced. This is the man who wants to fuck me because I look like his daughter.

Inside I scream loudly trying to wake up my body, to force life into my limbs. But it’s no use.

I’m cast adrift. My body cannot respond to my commands.

I’m sleeping beauty… and this man approaching isn’t a beast but a monster.

A different kind to The Masks.

But no less a monster.

Looking about the room, the man checks to see if anyone’s watching him. When he realises no one is, his greedy fingers creep over my skin as he squeezes and gropes.

Inside I’m screaming, my lungs are bruised, my heart bleeding.

“Why are you still dressed? I want to see you bare, my darling petal,” he says, pressing his spittle-covered lips against my neck. “Let me see you.”

He reaches up to the neck of my dress and tears the material. It splits down the front, baring my breasts for him. He grabs hold of them, licking his lips hungrily. “Pretty pink buds,” he says. When I don’t react he grins, smiling widely. “You can’t move, can you? Oh, how glorious!”

When his fingers reach my crotch, he yanks at the lock then hisses, but that doesn’t seem to phase him. Instead he fists his cock then crouches low, his lips hovering over my breast. “I bet you taste just like the dirty little whore that you are, petal. I’m going to enjoy this.”

I can’t even close my eyes on what’s about to happen. All I can do is look into the distance and take his abuse as he lowers his mouth to my nipple and sucks.

Get off me! I shout, willing my body to come alive.

He makes these disgusting slurping noises, and even though I can’t feel what he’s doing, I can hear him, see him and it makes me want to simultaneously rip his head off and curl up into a ball.

How could they do this? How could The Masks leave me vulnerable like this? I thought I was theirs? My blood boils with anger, with frustration, with hate, with disappointment.

I shouldn’t have expected any less. They’ve never lied to me. They’ve never given me any reason to believe that they care, that I mean more to them than a possession, an object, a toy.

I should’ve expected this. I should’ve run earlier. I should’ve killed Leon when I had the chance. I should’ve… should’ve… should’ve…

“Oh yes,” the Baron moans, jacking off as he sucks on me, moving from one nipple to the other.

Both of us are too caught up in this moment, me in a nightmare, the Baron living out his sick fantasy, that we don’t see what’s about to happen.

Cold air rushes over my skin, and half a beat later, the Baron grunts, slamming into me. He lets out a scream of shock, pushing off me and stumbling backwards, the handle of a knife sticking out of his left shoulder, the blade buried deep into his flesh.

He howls, eyes widening, blood draining from his face, his cock going flaccid.

Everyone in the room stills.

The fucking stops.

Cocks pull out of pussies, bodies untangle. The guests turn and stare as the Baron backs up, away from the knife-thrower. Away from Five.

“There’s no need to be rash,” he says, fear rippling across his face as Five moves towards him, her fingers resting on another knife that’s strapped to her chest.

“What do you want me to do with him?” Five asks, and I realise then that she’s not acting alone. Behind her The Masks step out of the shadows.

“You touched what belongs to us,” Leon says, his voice cold, rigid with anger as he approaches the terrified man, his cock all but shrivelled up, lost beneath his overhanging belly.

“I’m s—sorry,” he says, stumbling over his apology and holding his hands up in surrender. “Everyone out!” Jakub shouts.

The Numbers look from one to the other, then to me and The Masks.

“Take them to the banquet hall,” Konrad instructs, looking directly at One who nods, ushering everyone out.

“Five,” Leon says, jerking his chin towards Nine, Ten and Eleven who are still tied up in rope.

Five deftly cuts the rope, freeing them. They leave like all the rest, taking Twelve with them, until it’s just me, the Baron, and The Masks.

“Surely we can resolve this. I have money. I shall pay for what I took,” the Baron says, his hands shaking.

Leon shakes his head, a slow smile creeping up beneath his half-mask. “Oh, you’ll pay.”

“It was a misunderstanding…”

“Did you fall and trip onto her breast, huh? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I—” The man backs up towards the opposite wall, the knife sticking out of his shoulder, blood trickling from the wound. Fear widening his eyes. He’s right to be afraid. Tonight, death has come for him in the form of three men dressed head to toe in black. Monsters dressed like the Grim Reaper.

“She was just strapped there and I thought—”

“You thought you could touch what isn’t yours?” Konrad asks.

“Please, have mercy. It was a mistake!”

Jakub shakes his head. “There is no mercy. Especially not when it comes to what belongs to us.”

“You knew the rules. We said no,” Leon says.

One minute he’s standing by Jakub’s side, the next he’s striding towards the Baron and pulling the blade from his shoulder. The Baron screams in pain, blood spurting from the wound and colouring the wall behind him in splashes of scarlet blood. “She’s ours!”

“No, please—”

But the Baron’s cry is cut short as Leon slashes the knife across his throat in a flash of silver and parted flesh. His knees give way as he collapses to the floor, a crimson river of blood flooding his neck and chest. Leon passes the knife to Konrad, who takes it and slams it into the Baron’s gut, slicing him open. The Baron’s eyes widen, but he can’t scream.

“You piece of shit,” Konrad snarls, passing the knife to Jakub who takes it and pries the Baron’s mouth open, cutting out his tongue.

“That’s for your daughter, you sick fuck.”

But the Baron doesn’t hear him. He’s already dead.

Internally, I let out a bloodcurdling scream, thankful at least that I can’t draw attention to myself, not when death lingers in the air and violence runs through The Masks’ veins. It makes no difference though. Screaming or total silence, The Masks still turn to face me. I’m alone with three twisted, fucked-up men with no way to protect myself. I don’t even have any words, my voice is as useless as my body.

I’m at their mercy.

“The eyes really are the window to the soul,” Jakub remarks as the three of them move towards me. “You’re more afraid than you’ve ever been. Your courage, it’s gone. Stripped away.”

He’s right, it has. Being mute, unable to move can do that to a person. Every step towards me is purposeful, every look full of meaning. They are the hunters and I am their prey.

“He touched you,” Konrad says, standing before me.

Of course he touched me, I think. Scream, actually. Don’t throw a piece of meat to a wolf and expect it not to take a bite.

Konrad tips his head to the side. “You have so much to say. I can almost hear you shouting, Zero. For now, however, you’re going to listen.”

God damn these men!

Reaching for me, Konrad presses his hand against my cheek, cupping my face. “When I saw what he was doing to you… Fuck, Zero, I wanted to burn the whole fucking world down.”

“I needed to be certain,” Jakub says, reaching for me too. He slides his hand over the centre of my chest, resting it above my beating heart.

Certain of what?I silently ask, questions ghosting over my face.

“You were right to check, Brother,” Leon adds, dusting his knuckles over my clavicle as he buries his face in my hair and breathes me in.

My pulse thrums, my heart kicking up a notch. Its beat is erratic, afraid, and alive as they stroke me. Their fingers are made of ink and twilight, velvet and charcoal. Their concern is felt, not communicated as they touch my body, searching for bruises and marks, checking that I’m okay.

“You’re a problem, Nothing,” Jakub whispers against my ear, his words soft, laced with confusion and pain.

“You remind us of things we wish to forget,” Leon adds, his fingers rising up my neck and pressing against my lips.

“You’re a witch who’s cast a spell over us,” Konrad says, his hands smoothing over my ribcage, skirting the underside of my breasts.

“You don’t belong here,” Jakub continues, running his lips over my birthmark, burying his face in my hair.

Leon pushes his fingers inside my mouth. “You fuck with our heads.”

Konrad crouches before me and slides his hands over my lower belly. “You make us wish for things we cannot have....”

I take shallow breaths, afraid of them.

Afraid of how I feel around them; both terrified for my life and more alive than I’ve ever felt before. I’m a quivering mess of emotions as they continue to touch me softly, kiss me gently, stroke me languidly.

They soothe me with their apology.

Calm me with their touch.

Break me with their sorrow.

Scar me with their darkness.

And just for a moment I’m the centre of their universe; a beating, fleshy heart.

Alive, unharmed, cared for, revered.

Until I’m not.

“You’re a danger to everything we’ve built here,” Jakub says, stepping away abruptly. It’s only then I notice a cut over his eyebrow, it trickles with blood. “You’ve made us question our loyalty to one another.”

Konrad bites my hip bone, standing suddenly, backing up. He too has a bruise forming on his cheek. “You’re our enemy's sister.”

“You’re my mirror,” Leon accuses, his lip split and bleeding as he moves to stand in front of me.

I see my reflection in his eyes. I see my fear, but also something else… sadness. I hurt for them, for me, for us. Leon searches my face, watching me closely as he presses his lips against mine in a kiss so tender that I can almost feel it. Almost.

My skin covers in goosebumps. My back prickles in warning. My heart batters against my ribcage wanting out. My soul cries for help, for mercy.

“We can’t allow you to live,” Jakub says. Cold, hard, unflinching.

“Time’s up, Nought,” Leon whispers against my lips.

Then he wraps his hands around my throat, finishing what he started all those years ago.

The end, for now...