Opulent Obsession: A Dark Secret Society Romance

by Hensley, Alta

  My breath caught when I got to the bottom of the stairs and entered the ballroom. It was covered floor to ceiling in mirrors.

  Rafe was immediately shuffled away from my side to one wall where a gallery of chairs had been set up. Order members sat on the thrones watching as women of all shapes and sizes were sprawled out on the settees and some just on the bare, cold marble floor.

  All of them were masturbating with similar glass dildos to the one I held. The mirrors on all sides magnified every woman five times, ten times. Everywhere you looked was female flesh, writhing and gyrating.

  As I approached, an Elder with a cane walking the floor smacked one woman, hard, on her ass.

  “You are here to trap the devil with his own vanity,” the Elder chastised her. “Do you think you will capture the devil himself with that fake mockery of pleasure? Do you think he cannot see through your paltry display? Either masturbate and orgasm for real or get off the floor! You have no place here.”

  The beautiful woman looked up with tears in her eyes and nodded eagerly. “I’ll do better.”

  “Silence!” the Elder said, smacking her ass again. She jumped, the cane leaving a bright red mark across the back of her ass. “The only thing I want to hear out of you are the moans of your cunt being juiced around the devil’s big glass cock.”

  She nodded obediently but the Elder wasn’t done with her.

  “First I want you to gag on it. Take it out of your cunt and shove it down your throat. Deep throat it like you mean it. Like you’re really tempting the devil to come. How else can we trap him if we don’t tempt his vanity?”

  The woman pulled the glass dildo out of her pussy where she’d been shoving it in and out relentlessly and obediently started feeding it into her mouth and—Jesus Christ!—down her throat. She must’ve had zero gag reflex because I could see the dildo start to poke out her throat.

  “That’s better,” the Elder said. “Now moan around it and you—” He snapped his fingers to the woman nearest her who moaned and writhed around her own glass cock shoved deep in her pussy.

  The woman perked up, pausing mid-thrust of the cock deep inside her.

  “Fuck her with your dildo.”

  The woman immediately crawled over.

  “Eat her out first.”

  The second woman nodded and started eating out the first woman who now choked on the cock she was deep throating. As the second woman ate out the first, the Elder must have become impatient, because he yanked the huge dildo out of her hand and started ramming it up her pussy.

  And then, barely pausing, he pulled some lube out of his robe, poured it over the dildo, then shoved it up her ass! She squealed and shouted her surprise into the other woman’s pussy.

  I gasped. I couldn’t help it.

  They expected me to do this shit?

  And the thought that immediately followed: Who the fuck were these women who came here and subjected themselves to this?

  Were they rejected belles like my mother and Mama H? That had me blinking even harder, imagining my mother—my mother—as one of these panting women on their knees. My mother as the woman being fucked with a glass dildo while being instructed to eat another woman out—all while the members watched and got off—

  I looked back over at the gallery and found Rafe’s eyes on me.

  But beyond him, I saw Montgomery. Jesus, I was supposed to masturbate with this thing in front of Rafe’s friends? Montgomery had his back to the room at least, sipping some amber liquid out of a tumbler, but in addition to Montgomery, there was Beau.

  Good God, was Rafe’s whole high school entourage going to show up now? I know Rafe had said Beau had just started his time at the mansion and we might run into him and his belle, but I hadn’t imagined our first introduction would be like this.

  I looked out on the crowd and wondered which one of the girls she was.

  “You,” a deep voice called out. Looking up, a jolt went through me when I realized the Elder from the sidelines was gesturing to me. “What are you doing just standing there? Get to pleasuring the devil’s cock. Tempt him so he might be trapped by his own vanity. There’s nothing he loves more than beautiful women worshipping a likeness of his most tempting asset.”

  There were chuckles from some of the other men, but when I caught Rafe’s imploring eyes. I wasn’t sure if he was imploring me to get started masturbating so the Elders wouldn’t take more of an interest in me like they had the two other women or imploring me to run away from the madness altogether. I held my head higher and walked to the center of the floor where there was an empty settee.

  I lay back and spread my legs.

  You can do this, Fallon Perry. And I couldn’t fake it, either. I was terrible at faking orgasms, and they’d immediately be able to tell. No, I’d have to really get there.

  But how to do that with a roomful of men watching on? Much less the mirrors above and on all sides that reflected me back to myself.

  “No closing your eyes!” an Elder snapped, followed up by the smack of a cane against flesh, no doubt to reinforce his statement. “You have to look the devil in the eyes to truly tempt his presence in this gathering.”

  Were these guys fucking nuts? I wasn’t that religious, but it seemed to me like tempting the devil at all, much less trying to trap him, even if it was a sex game, seemed like playing with fire.

  But I couldn’t waste any more time on silly questions or thoughts like that.

  I put the head of the glass dildo to the lips of my pussy. Yeouch! It was cold! I flinched but then went with it, allowing the shudder to work its way through my body.

  This was a show after all. Might as well work with everything I had.

  I was barely wet, and there was no way the bulbous head was making it inside my narrow channel without some warm-up. The question was, how much time would they allow me before they expected me to be moaning and creaming over the damn thing?

  Probably not long.

  That’s right, Fallon. Be their whore. Put on a show. Just like mommy dearest probably did countless times.

  How many cocks did she suck for the great privilege of continuing to be invited back to parties like this? How many of them did she fuck?

  Shit, thinking about my mother was not helping me get off.

  I tried to clear my head. Think about sexy things. Sexy thoughts, sexy thoughts. I looked around. There were literally a hundred reflected images of naked, writhing bodies. You’d think that some sexual fantasy would be easy to come by.

  But I saw my mother in every woman’s face… except…

  Except when I looked in the mirror hung right above me.

  It reflected me and me alone.

  And I didn’t have many of my mother’s features. I’d always known I likely looked more like my mysterious father, whoever he was. In this moment, though, I was grateful for Mr. Mysterious Sperm Donator, because as I watched myself with the dildo probing at my own sex, I finally started to sprout moisture down there.

  Fuck, it was… hot to see myself like this.

  I’d never watched myself masturbate before.

  Whenever I did it, it was usually before bed or in the morning, underneath the covers, a little furtively, eyes clenched shut.

  But now… well, I wasn’t allowed any of those creature comforts.

  Eyes open, completely bared, and all but forced to look at myself getting off… which was ironically helping me get off.

  I bit my bottom lip. Could Rafe see me? Did he like what he saw? Did he wish it was his hard cock instead of this cold dildo teasing at my lips, then slowly surging forward.

  I gasped at the intrusion of the glass but didn’t stop.

  There was no giving up or tapping out during an Oleander Manor Trial. You were in it to win it and in until the bitter end or it was all worth nothing.

  And I did not plan on leaving here empty handed, no siree.

  So, I watched myself, naked, a kaleidoscope of bodies writhing around me in the periphery
mirrors, and my body slickened. The huge dildo slipped in a little further and I arched to meet it, unable to help the gasp that slipped out of my mouth.

  Above me, the woman’s forehead in the reflection crinkled in confused pleasure. It was me, both experiencing the moment and feeling apart from it. Even as pleasure zinged between my cunt and my belly.

  Holy shit, was this actually getting me off? Jesus, I wasn’t perverted like this!

  But hearing another smack of a cane against an ass and a corresponding woman’s yelp, I started to fuck myself even more fervently with the dildo, working it a little further in each time.

  A flush rose on my cheeks and sweat sprouted at my hairline. I bit my bottom lip in concentration and dropped my legs open wider to make access for the huge glass cock. I’d never taken anything so big. Whatever artist had crafted them had made them intentionally larger than any human male could manage, likely just to torture belles. To stretch us beyond anything we could have ever prepared for.

  I pushed in another inch and gasped as the girth split me open, cold glass inserted so far up inside me the bulbous head was nearly bumping against my cervix.

  And somehow, that was it. I began to convulse around it.

  In the mirror above, I could see the huge dildo had all but disappeared inside my warm, flushed body. My legs closed around it, and that gave even more friction against my clit.

  I cried out, and it wasn’t quiet. But neither were any of the women around me. This was not the time to be shy, anyway, I knew, so I went with it. Every ounce of pleasure I felt, I vocalized.

  As I dragged the dildo back out of my now-soaked pussy, I groaned with the loss of it, and as I shoved it relentlessly back in, I screamed and writhed around it.

  I’d hoped after I adjusted to it, it would get easier to take. But no, it was simply too big. The second and following third thrust were just as intimidating as the first time around. Thankfully, I was cumming now.

  I couldn’t hold it back. There was too much stimulation, both on my cunt and also for the rest of my senses. Obviously visually—everywhere, anywhere I looked—women touched themselves and, under the direction of a few wandering Elders, they touched each other.

  They suckled each other’s breasts and pussies. They fucked each other with dildos and sometimes the Elders fucked them.

  Finally, the men from the sidelines began to filter in, claiming women as they went.

  “Now that you have courted the devil,” an Elder called out loudly, “he will come and claim you. Receive him into your bodies and sate his lusts.”

  And then Rafe was in front of me.

  Thank God it was Rafe. Oh, thank God.

  “Fuck them as the devil would,” the Elder continued to call out instructions. “We can only purge the devil’s vanity if we fully embody him. Embody the master of sin by indulging your every wicked desire. These whores are the vessels to suck the seed from your body. To purge and purify. On your knees, Devil’s whores! Let the devil fuck you every way he wants and then suck the seed from his balls till you’ve drained him fucking dry.”

  Rafe laid his body over mine on the settee. At first, I thought it might be to cover my modesty, that he just didn’t like all these men seeing me naked. Sometimes he’d been old-fashioned like that when I used to wear low-cut tops in high school. He’d asked if I had any self-respect, that wearing shirts like that only made boys ogle me and did I want that kind of attention?

  But, no, as Rafe lay over top of me, I could very firmly feel his own rock-hard member, harder than glass, hard as steel.

  “Fuck me, Devil,” I whispered into his ear as he bent over me. His entire body shuddered on top of mine.

  And then, without another word, his hands went to his belt buckle. He undid it in record time, and then, his face still buried in my neck, he impaled me with his cock.

  I sucked in a breath and grasped onto his back. I needed to anchor myself because, holy God, he was not holding back like he must have been before.

  No, Rafe was not holding back anymore. I guess I wasn’t the only one watching my little show. And judging by his reaction, he’d really liked what he’d seen.

  And the thought of Rafe watching me masturbating and getting this hard and ravenous had me juicing so much I might have fucking squirted all over his massive cock that was all but splitting me open.

  Had I thought Rafe wasn’t as big as the glass dildo? Because now I wasn’t so sure. Maybe I’d just never seen him as excited as this.

  He was filling me, stretching me, and then some. With each thrust, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to accommodate his girth, that I’d have to cry uncle, that I simply couldn’t go on.

  But with every in and out stroke, I was about to pass out with the body and soul-shaking pleasure. Good God, I didn’t know it could feel this good.

  “Rafe,” I uttered his name in a guttural growl.

  Finally, his face came out from my neck. Our eyes caught as he shoved in deep again, parting my flesh, making his way, staking his claim on my territory.

  I’d never be the same again after this man. I never had been, goddamn him. He’d had me from the very first day I’d met him as a lonely five-year-old and he burst into my world like black and white meeting technicolor for the first time.

  I clutched him to me and buried my face in his neck as my pussy clenched around him, the hardest, longest orgasm of my life spasming, spasm upon spasm, riding it higher and then higher still.

  He was the only man who’d ever done this to me, who ever could, I was convinced. Maybe he really was the devil, because he’d always tempted me beyond all reason and sanity. I’d drop everything for the chance at even a moment with him, no matter how fucked up the circumstances.

  But as my orgasm peaked even higher, I knew he wasn’t the devil, not really. Because as bliss overcame my body, it hit me—how could he be the devil if he made me see God, I came so hard?

  11

  Rafe

  Flashing lights filled the dark kitchen as I ate my midnight snack.

  I had just returned from Sully’s house party and had missed curfew, but luckily all were asleep. Sneaking into my large house undetected wasn’t hard…

  But why the flashing lights?

  Cops were outside.

  Shit.

  Why?

  I didn’t have the party while my parents were out of town. That was Sully. Was it a crime attending a party? Why were the police outside?

  The loud knock on the door announced their presence to not only me, but now my parents.

  I opened the door and wondered how I was going to get myself out of this one. Had they gone to Fallon’s house too? Was she in trouble for attending the party with me?

  “Are your parents home?” the police officer asked. His partner stood behind him, and I could see the lights of the police car were still on. Why were they still on?

  “Mom!” I shouted over my shoulder towards the stairs. “Dad!” I shouted again, although it was much harder to do because the air felt as if it had just been knocked out of me.

  Something was wrong and it wasn’t just because I attended a high school party.

  My dad was the first one down the stairs as he put on his robe mid-stride. My mother was close behind, but she walked much slower as if afraid of who was at the door.

  “Mr. Jackson,” the cop said.

  “Yes?” My father opened the door fully, and I moved out of the way so he could master the doorway in his powerful take-charge way.

  “It’s about your son, Timothy Jackson,” the officer said as he took a deep breath. “He’s been in a fatal car accident. I’m sorry to tell you that your son didn’t make it.”

  “This has to be a mistake,” my father demanded. He shook his head. “Timothy? No. There has to be a mistake.”

  “Timothy! Timothy!” my mother cried out as she lunged down the stairs as if she were determined to beat the cop for spreading such a lie.

  Chaos of death. Insanity of pain.
<
br />   Screams. Howls of heartbreak. Agonizing cries all with the flashing lights around. A horrific soundtrack of soul-ripping torture and denial.

  My father collapsed to the ground. My mother nearly fell down the stairs. I simply stood. I watched. I waited…

  I waited for Timothy to walk up from behind the police officers to tell us it was all a mistake. Nothing could touch my brother. He was untouchable. He was the golden boy. He could conquer anything that came his way… even the fucking Reaper himself.

  Not Tim.

  Not my brother.

  He couldn’t be dead.

  No. No. No!

  We all screamed no over and over. No!

  “No!” I screamed as I sat up in bed, dripping in sweat. I looked around in the darkness, confused.

  “Rafe?” Fallon said as her hand briefly touched my shoulder. “It’s just a nightmare. It’s okay. I’m here. It was just a dream.”

  Just a dream. Just another nightmare of that night so many years ago. I ran my fingers through my damp hair, inhaling deep breaths to try to steady my heart that felt as if it were going to break free from my chest.

  “Are you okay?” Fallon asked.

  Okay? Was I ever going to be okay? Years of therapy to try to deal with these nightmares, and though they had gotten better, they clearly were never going to go away. I would forever hear the screams of my parents as they found out their firstborn son was dead.

  “Let me get you some water.” Fallon got out of bed and walked toward the bathroom.

  I took the time to try to steady my nerves. It was just a nightmare, and yet it wasn’t. It was real. Timothy was gone. Killed in a car accident. My reality was truly this awful dream forever.

  “Here,” Fallon said as she handed me a glass of water. When I grabbed the glass, she took a cool wet rag and wiped it on my forehead, my face, the back of my neck. “That must have been an intense dream.”

  I nodded as I drank, wishing it were scotch rather than water.

  She continued to wash the rag over my body, taking away all the signs of my body’s reaction to my nocturnal hell. “What was it about?”