Masked
The mask she wore was her shelter. Her reckless abandon of all things life. In the mask, she could free herself.
The black and violet feathers complimented her black sundress as she sashayed up the steps of the mansion.
“Welcome.” The guard said holding open the door. They didn’t bother checking if you were welcome here, the point of the mascarade was that your identity was always kept secret.
“Thank you.” She offered politely as she went through the large double doors. There was already hundreds in attendance. Surely it would be an entertaining evening.
Making rounds through the large ball room, there were many that caught her interest, but none so alluring as the teal and gray feathered mask. He stood proudly at the edge of the crowded room, watching.
Deciding it was time, enough liquid confidence in her system and coming to a close of the night, she walked with a purpose toward the man. As she passed him, she linked her fingers around his biceps and pulled him into the next room.
The man complied easily moving along the wall with her. As soon as they were in the dark room next door, she shoved him against the wall. Her hands moved over his suit in a hungry fury. Digging at him with need.
She quickly loosened his belt and pants, shoving them down only to reveal a set of black boxer briefs beneath. The man grabbed at her arms, her neck, her waist. Each passing moment, his fingers dug in harder, gripping as if his life depended on it. And it did. A siren like the Violet Vixen was sure to suck his life force from him if she wasn’t satisfied fully.
She rose a brow looking down at the man’s twitching member. He was nervous. She could tell, but today was his day and she was going to use him before he left this earth.
Her long fingers wound around the hem of his boxers and yanked them. Shredding them from his body in one clean sweep. He groaned in excitement as his rod stood erect and ready.
His hands now played at her hips, gliding down along the length of her skirt and back a few times before finally grabbing tightly to the hem of her dress and yank it up revealing a blank slate below. Underwear less. Pantie less.
Jumping up, he grabbed her bare ass cheeks, squeezing them in his palms which excited her insides. “Mmmm...” she moaned as she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, grinding into him until he moved one hand down to his rock hardness and positioned it between her long tanned toned legs around his torso. She ground into him pushing his cock deep into her slick depths. She groaned as his thickness caused her insides to adjust.
It was such a shame she had to set her eyes on him. There was that need deep inside her which only he was going to fulfill. Riding the man up and down the long length girth of his shaft, she felt her fingers dig into his shoulders, into his hair, and then into his back. Blood trickled from the punctures of each nail.
She wanted more. Harder… Faster… Riding him as roughly as her thighs would lift her. Their masks in place did not allow for kissing, but she wasn’t ready for such a thing either. She wanted - no scratch that. NEEDED release before she took his soul. So instead his head pushed against the side of her neck, allowing her to feel a sensation of being pecked, kissed, tormented as she rode him. She pushed her foot up against the wall and kicked. The man getting the jist swiftly turned them around and smashed her into the wall. Using the wall to hold her into place, he slammed his cock into her harder. “Oh fuck!” he groaned as his release began to form. Nobody finished without her and lived to tell the tail. Reaching his orgasm, the man grunted and spilled inside her the long silk of his seed. He let her feet drop to the floor as he pulled from her warm silky apex. Standing back, her dress dropped down around her legs. Lifting her mask up, a big no no for any of these masquerades, she let him see her true form, her violet miraculously and mercilessly eyes, stared into his soul. Mesmerized, he didn’t scream. He didn’t flinch away. Instead, he moaned in delight. Pressing her mouth to his, she stole his kiss. Moving her tongue along his lips, requesting entry. No man could resist the vixen. Not even this pompous asshole. He opened his mouth letting her tongue glide inside. Her hand slid down to grip his sloppy loose rod, spent from his expelling sperm. He fidgeted and groaned when her grip tightened and the speed of her gliding hand picked up. When his rod was once again full and erect, she climbed up his body letting his hands grip her ass for added support once again.
The feeling of being thoroughly fucked was one that she was not going to give up on tonight. She rode him eagerly, harder and harder as their tongues mingled their souls. Finally, finding her peak the vixen opened her mouth letting a moan from deep within claiming the man and sucking his essence as her insides creamed his cock below. He let her legs go, his body already weakening. Stepping back onto her black stilettos the vixen stepped back to admire her dirty work. Her body vibrated with the after effects of her orgasm and the man, well he was worse for wear. His skin, what she could see from beneath his dark tuxedo, was already ashy and charred. “Je suis désolé mon amour. Maintenant tu dois mourir.” She finally spoke in her thick French accent. He didn’t understand her words even though most never did. Taking pity on the man she huffed. “I’m sorry my love. Now you must die.”
With the man finally understanding her words, the venom of her kiss claimed him. His body crumpled to the floor, leaning nothing but a pile of ash.
The Violet Vixen pulled her mask back over her face, she would not claim another tonight, her body sated. Then as if nothing had happened, she returned to what was left of the party.
