The Masque of the Red Devil
Page 2
When she came nearer the top of the room, the red mist seemed to intensify. Her false manhood felt like more than just fabric, swelling and throbbing at the view of this licentious bacchanal.
She could not help but pause by a tableau near the far door. They were so lost in carnality that it filled her senses. A woman lay on her back, naked, a disrobed man kneeling on either side of her. Her mouth was open and wet and inviting as she sucked each firm cock in turn, as her body was pleasured by their eagerly roving hands.
Without pausing in her ministrations, the woman seemed to sense Catrin’s proximity, her eyes drawn to the swelling between her legs. Helped by her lewd squires, the woman got on all fours. Her soft white thighs were spread invitingly apart, revealing her reddened needy sex. As she shamelessly pushed out her hips, she looked over her shoulder at Catrin with avid greed.
Responding to this invitation instinctively, Catrin knelt between the woman’s open legs, her hands resting on the satiny swell of her hips as the woman moaned and shivered. At close quarters, her glistening, swollen lips were apart and so ready.
The aptly named cuckold’s horn seemed to gain a will of its own. Catrin’s pelvis eased forward until it nudged against the sensitive sex of the woman who gasped and tensed in response. Catrin rotated her hips in a teasing instinctive rhythm, making the woman squirm with wanton anticipation.
As her movements became more urgent, the horn found the spot that gave so willingly and slid slowly inside. The woman made inarticulate sounds like a sob of pleasure as Catrin began to pump her delicious depths.
Thus ensconced, Catrin turned her attention to the two men kneeling beside her, watching her with awe and fealty. She heard a gasp from one of them as she took in hand each hard, fleshy knob, rubbing with sudden expertise.
The other moaned out loud as his inflamed cock reddened and thickened in her small hand. He fastened his mouth to Catrin’s aching nipple, the fine cloth of her gown adding to the friction as she pumped steadily into the woman, who responded thrust for thrust.
She looked down to see the fabric of her member covered with the woman’s juices. As they all rocked together in lustful bliss, one of the men grasped a plump swaying tit of the woman which made her groan all the louder.
The dance of lust continued vividly; thrust and suck and rub. That soaking, hot, giving passage seemed both wetter and tighter as the woman writhed, sweat gleaming on her luscious body. With female instinct Catrin quickened her thrusts to give ultimate bliss and the woman suddenly tautened, her whole being shuddering as she gave a cry of release. The same heat filled Catrin radiating intensely from her centre, her body gyrating in total abandon.
Their mutual pleasure was a signal for the men, who groaned and thrust in their dissonant rhythms in Catrin’s clutch, one spilling over with sensuality, grunting with gratitude. As they paused for breath, the woman looked over her shoulder again, panting and smiling, and her eyes now seemed to glow with a red light.
Catrin rose from the tableau. The man who had not yet spent took her place immediately to slide his engorged, near-bursting cock into the woman’s open sex, making her squeal with fresh pleasure. Similar scenes played out all around her as Catrin stood.
Part of her wanted to prowl through the room to feed on this dynamic sexual energy. To take and be taken, to sway and push and moan in this orange glow of passion. But the other part, that which remained Catrin, who wanted no more than to go home, looked ahead and saw the open red door.
Leaving the orange orgy behind her, she walked through to the old chapel which felt cool after the heat of lechery in the chamber before.
Unlike the other rooms, the stone walls and wooden ceiling remained unpainted, which made the scene even more sacrilegious. Whatever rite is happening here cannot be Godly, she thought.
The plainness of the simple room made the flock’s crimson robes and masks appear even more garish as they sat in chairs arranged either side of the central aisle, as though for an important service. As she swept past them, there was a collective gasp amongst the assembly.
Although this had not the fully-blown abandon of the orange room, the atmosphere was still carnal, as shown by the desultory fumblings of the guests as she passed them. Fine robes were pushed up or down, to expose bare flesh for lewd kisses and lustful touches.
However, she noted that no one was openly coupling or spending yet. There was a tension in the atmosphere as though awaiting something. “The bride, no doubt,” that voice in her head said with a sly smirk.
As Catrin walked to the front row of chairs, the man who was most likely designated to be her bridegroom for the ritual was naked beneath his red cloak, his hard cock kept to stiffness for the rite to come by a young man and woman on their knees, licking idly.
Waiting for the main event, she thought drily.
Her luck had held so far during the previous masques but in this final climactic chamber, she must hasten now or the alarm would be raised.
She walked up the steps to the altar, where there was no longer a sacred table in place but a luxurious couch ready for the profane nuptials. Beyond that, all in black in the priest’s chair sat Lord Antonio himself, unmasked.
His rigid features transformed with a look of power-mad joy as Catrin approached the high altar. He stood and raised his arms in triumph.
“At last my prayers have been answered!” he said hoarsely, “the Red Devil has been summoned and is amongst us,” he cried to his congregation.
Catrin continued to walk towards him without hesitation and he sat suddenly as though the power had left his legs. He gazed up at her, enraptured. She stood before him, raising his chin with a fingertip, and looked deep into his eyes.
The pale wintry grey irises seemed to burn like suns, as they flared from yellow to orange then red. As Catrin continued to stare at him, there was a palpable sense of heat that made her feel lightheaded.
She was transfixed.
There was a nudge as if someone had turned her head to perceive a narrow open doorway to her left. Then she felt a push towards it, as a voice urged her, “Go now, be spared from this.”
Stumbling away from the chapel as directed, she found herself at the bottom of a stairway with a closed wooden door in front of her. She tried the metal handle, which was hot to the touch.
To her relief, it opened easily and she entered the cavernous kitchens of the castle. There was no fire lit, but it was still unbearably warm. Her mask constricted her face, making it hard to breathe. She took it off with some relief.
At first, she thought she was alone, but now her vision was unimpeded by the mask, she saw a figure slumped in a chair at the kitchen work table, evidently overcome by the heat. This was no guest but obviously a servant by her plain clothing.
Her kitchen pinafore was flung over the table, and Catrin slipped off the stained phallus and the shimmer of fine red fabric and thankfully covered her naked body with the rough cloth. The girl seemed to sense her presence and muttered, trying to raise her head.
With a shock, Catrin realized it was Mari, Tomas’ daughter from the village. She shook her shoulder, trying to raise her to full consciousness.
As she tried to rouse Mari, Catrin looked around the kitchen for a means of escape, but there were several doors to choose from. The heat was intensifying by the second. She said urgently, “Mari, we have to get out of here. Which door leads to the outside?”
She turned to follow the direction of the girl’s shakily pointing finger but out of the corner of her eye, she saw the red mask now sitting on the scrubbed table. She stared at it.
Time seemed to slow as a sly voice spoke to her. “Take me as a keepsake. I’m harmlesssss…”
The words slithered like a snake and she recoiled as if bitten. She looked once more at the mask, then deliberately turning away, she looped Mari’s arm over her neck, hoisted her to her feet and half-carried her to the exit.
Out in the keep, the soldiers were all gone. There were only a few bedrag
gled, semi-dressed guests making their way out of the castle, as if in a daze. The two girls walked through the open gates unchallenged.
In the cool air, Mari seemed to recover a little, but it was still a difficult journey scrambling down the hill. Catrin kept glancing back as if in surprise they were not being pursued. As the evening came and it grew dark, they made their way into the village and to Catrin’s home, where they were greeted with tearful embraces.
The next morning, those brave enough to venture up to the stronghold reported that the castle was completely uninhabited and the heat was still emanating from the stones as if they had been scorched. Lord Antonio had disappeared entirely.
Sitting on the bench in her parents’ humble home, holding Elis’ hand tightly, Catrin felt some of that strange heat as the villagers came to tell their tales. She glanced at him and they shared a private, loving smile. Now they could look forward to their life together as a family, without further threat.
Catrin thought back to the events in the orange room and as the images of passion flickered in her mind, she looked forward to sharing her knowledge and new-found experiences with her appreciative, true bridegroom.
THE END
ABOUT L.E. THOMAS
L.E. Thomas mainly writes historical stories with an erotic twist. A lifelong enjoyment of history and literature is a spur for her imagination when conjuring up these tales.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!