Tabula Rasa(30)

Except for the masks, it was what I imagined an ancient Roman orgy might be like. I thought it must have been the case that if you decided to play at all, you were committed to whatever happened. The idea of complicated consent and negotiations seemed unlikely somehow. It was the same here. It didn’t seem a single person was willing to take no for an answer. If you came downstairs, well, you came downstairs.

The floor was a dark shiny hardwood. Expensive black leather sex furniture was interspersed throughout the large space as well as a few beds for those who preferred more comfort. There was spanking and whipping going on in the middle of the large space and a few women and one man being led around on leashes. There were three different couples f*cking on one bed, and more lined against the walls like an assembly line of depravity.

I turned to go back upstairs, but a hand ensnared my wrist. “Where do you think you’re going, lovely? You aren’t following the dress code. I think we need to punish you for that.” The voice didn’t belong to Shannon.

I tried to pull away, still thinking I could reason my way out of this. “Let me go. I have to go back upstairs.”

“Shannon didn’t tell us he had a girlfriend. Do you just let your boyfriend f*ck whoever he wants? That’s generous. Does he allow you the same freedoms? I can’t imagine him being so gracious with you.” His hand moved to the button on my jeans.

I tried to ease out of the situation again, but he wasn’t having it. Even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I somehow knew he planned to take Shannon’s girlfriend right here on the carpeted stairs. I looked back again at the orgy going on only a few yards away, still wondering which one was Shannon. Had he spotted me yet?

I wanted to scream for help, but I was both afraid someone might recognize me even with my new look and even more afraid to draw Shannon’s attention. Maybe I could stand to just let this guy do his thing and then slip back upstairs. It wasn’t as if Shannon hadn’t told me to stay in my room and keep my door locked. Even as I did it, I couldn’t believe I was trying to rationalize the situation—as if it would be my fault this guy couldn’t process the word no.

The stranger shoved me down on the black carpeted stairs and stripped me down so fast I couldn’t believe it had already happened. My clothes lay in a chaotic pile near my feet. I had barely enough time to try to wrap my head around anything that was going on and whether or not I thought I could handle it better than the alternatives.

His heavy weight settled on top of me, and I freaked out and screamed. I couldn’t just let it happen. Shannon was going to kill me for breaking his rules and coming down here, but I’d rather Shannon kill me than this guy f*ck me. I had such messed-up priorities.

Nobody paid attention to my cries. Maybe they thought my scream was role play. Or maybe they didn’t care. Or maybe they were locked into their own fantasies at the moment and didn’t feel like dealing with someone else’s traumatic reality. After all, that wasn’t part of the fantasy orgy package. I was sure they’d all been given an intense list of rules and that they all knew coming down those stairs was consent... to anything with anyone. But the only rule I’d been issued was to stay away.

While I processed these thoughts and tried not to think about what was about to happen, the stranger was ripped off me. A second later, a guy in a gorilla mask had him by the throat against the wall. “Did she look like someone here for you to play with?” Shannon shouted.

“N-no.”

“She’s off-limits!” He turned back to the rest of the guests, most of whom were slowly coming out of the orgy fog to notice the commotion. “Everybody get the f*ck out! Party’s over!”

I pressed my clothes against me and slowly backed up the stairs.

“Not you!” Shannon said, eyes blazing with fury from behind the mask.

I froze where I was. He’d never yelled. I’d never heard him yell before tonight. He was calm and methodical. I hadn’t been totally sure he had the emotional range to yell. But tonight there was a new and very different energy about him.

Suddenly I was overwhelmed with the reality of naked Shannon. To say he was sculpted was an understatement. I’d had some vague idea of what he must look like under his utilitarian black clothing, but the briefly flitting imagination didn’t do it justice. I looked away from his quite substantial erection, my face flaming.

Most of the guests scrambled to get their clothes and get out of the basement. A few lingered—trying to finish up as if they couldn’t make their own orgasms at home. Like it was worth risking a bullet to the head or a snapped neck, two things I was sure Shannon was more than capable of delivering.

He physically broke up a few sexual encounters, herded them all up the stairs, and shut and locked the basement door, leaving me down below.

When everyone was gone, the door unlocked and Shannon came back down, only slightly calmer. He still wore the gorilla mask. The white cat was on his heels looking smug, like she couldn’t wait to watch this unfold.

I should have taken the opportunity alone to put clothes on. They were in my hands. I was just so freaked out by everything. Maybe it was shock. It felt eerily like the night I first met him all over again. I backed away from him, still clutching my clothes to me like I’d done with the sheet the night in the castle.

Shannon continued to advance. The music still blared. He turned it off, and silence poured like water into each space that had once contained sound.