arms outstretched, and held firmly onto the rail ahead of her, a gust blew the fabric of her dress firmly between her legs, highlighting the long length of her thighs and calves and the valley of her cunt. She spotted me watching her as the port auxiliaries grabbed hold of the prow and threw up ropes to the sailing hands on board to secure the ship to the mooring point. With her arm raised in a wave, palm outstretched, she looked like arriving royalty.
The crowd turned into an orderly queue, and filed on board, almost in silence. Occasional whispers in languages that I guessed at but could not identify with any certainty reached my ears, but few people spoke in tones louder than a hush. We were like a congregation filing into a church hall. Reverent, awed by our surroundings and what we knew would come.
I bathed slowly, deep in thought. As one of the organisers, I was assigned to the main dressing room and bathing area set aside for the higher echelons of the Ball’s crew, and the performers. The painted walls and plush carpets were a rich purple. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Long mirrors were set up at various intervals along the walls and sweeping wardrobes were packed with costumes and accessories. I was soaking in one of the many Jacuzzis, filled with warm, mineral-salted water. With me in the pool were half a dozen others, none of whom I recognised. Selecting and training the dancers, aerialists, gymnasts and those whose expertise lay in the sexual arts was not part of my remit.
The six who shared the pool with me were near mirror images of each other. All medium in height, with bright red hair, an even truer shade of ginger than mine. Their skin was deathly pale and every inch of it covered in freckles, so they looked as though they had been dusted with specks of cinnamon. They had entered the pool after me, so I had been able to witness them saunter across the black slate tiles towards me and lower themselves into the steaming water. Their nude bodies were worthy of art. Slender and lithe, none of them older than twenty-five, unless they partook of Botox or drank the blood of virgins or had some other trick to keep them so firm and supple. Their legs were endless in relation to their torsos, and so slim and toned that they might have belonged to racehorses. Their stomachs were flat, abdominal muscles just visible in the right light. None of them were shaved. They each sported a thatch of ginger pubic hair that covered their slits fully. As far as I could tell without running my fingers through the curls, their bushes were soft and fine, not thick and coarse like dark hair often was. I was disappointed, I realised, that their hair prevented me from getting a proper look at their pussies, and my disappointment surprised me. I considered myself straight, although I had occasionally toyed with women. It was rare that the female form aroused me as much as these six did, with their lanky limbs and locks of fire. They did not appear to be wearing any make-up, but their lips were full and pouting. Their breasts were larger than mine. Each of them possessed a more than generous handful, and their nipples were small, pert and hard, pink nubs balanced upon the dark pink circles of their areola. They were pierced. A thick gold hoop was affixed to each of their nipples, and another to their clits. Each of the hoops was joined to a thin gold chain that ran from their cunts to the centre of their breastbone and then to each breast.
They were not alone.
A man had led them into the room. A thick gold ring circled his wrist, and from it a length of gold branched off into six, each length attached at the navel to the chains that bound the women. They were rigged together in the manner that a dog-walker might join a bunch of canines, for ease of handling, and managed to avoid getting tangled up together or having their parts pulled too hard by walking in perfect formation, the rhythm and length of their steps perfectly
The crowd turned into an orderly queue, and filed on board, almost in silence. Occasional whispers in languages that I guessed at but could not identify with any certainty reached my ears, but few people spoke in tones louder than a hush. We were like a congregation filing into a church hall. Reverent, awed by our surroundings and what we knew would come.
I bathed slowly, deep in thought. As one of the organisers, I was assigned to the main dressing room and bathing area set aside for the higher echelons of the Ball’s crew, and the performers. The painted walls and plush carpets were a rich purple. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Long mirrors were set up at various intervals along the walls and sweeping wardrobes were packed with costumes and accessories. I was soaking in one of the many Jacuzzis, filled with warm, mineral-salted water. With me in the pool were half a dozen others, none of whom I recognised. Selecting and training the dancers, aerialists, gymnasts and those whose expertise lay in the sexual arts was not part of my remit.
The six who shared the pool with me were near mirror images of each other. All medium in height, with bright red hair, an even truer shade of ginger than mine. Their skin was deathly pale and every inch of it covered in freckles, so they looked as though they had been dusted with specks of cinnamon. They had entered the pool after me, so I had been able to witness them saunter across the black slate tiles towards me and lower themselves into the steaming water. Their nude bodies were worthy of art. Slender and lithe, none of them older than twenty-five, unless they partook of Botox or drank the blood of virgins or had some other trick to keep them so firm and supple. Their legs were endless in relation to their torsos, and so slim and toned that they might have belonged to racehorses. Their stomachs were flat, abdominal muscles just visible in the right light. None of them were shaved. They each sported a thatch of ginger pubic hair that covered their slits fully. As far as I could tell without running my fingers through the curls, their bushes were soft and fine, not thick and coarse like dark hair often was. I was disappointed, I realised, that their hair prevented me from getting a proper look at their pussies, and my disappointment surprised me. I considered myself straight, although I had occasionally toyed with women. It was rare that the female form aroused me as much as these six did, with their lanky limbs and locks of fire. They did not appear to be wearing any make-up, but their lips were full and pouting. Their breasts were larger than mine. Each of them possessed a more than generous handful, and their nipples were small, pert and hard, pink nubs balanced upon the dark pink circles of their areola. They were pierced. A thick gold hoop was affixed to each of their nipples, and another to their clits. Each of the hoops was joined to a thin gold chain that ran from their cunts to the centre of their breastbone and then to each breast.
They were not alone.
A man had led them into the room. A thick gold ring circled his wrist, and from it a length of gold branched off into six, each length attached at the navel to the chains that bound the women. They were rigged together in the manner that a dog-walker might join a bunch of canines, for ease of handling, and managed to avoid getting tangled up together or having their parts pulled too hard by walking in perfect formation, the rhythm and length of their steps perfectly
Similar Books
