Bridget’s ready to get dirty at Sanctum’s annual Summer Bacchanal.
It’s late on Friday afternoon, and I’m bouncing on my toes.
“We haven’t had a customer in hours,” Marcy, my coworker, whines with a pout. “Why does Pamela have us both here? At least one of us could be at the Summer Bacchanal right now, living it up.”
“Ugh, I know,” I say, sighing. “Seriously, I wanted to go this week so badly because who knows what they’re doing?” I giggle. “Naked games? The horizontal push-ups? But here we are, just the two of us,” I shrug.
Marcy grows even more despondent.
“Not that I don’t love you, Bridge, but seriously, you don’t compare to the hot men I could be meeting right now if we were at the party. Instead, we’re stuck here, staring at our reflections in the glass counters like a couple of morons.”
I nod. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job selling cosmetics at an Estee Lauder counter, but on this point, I absolutely agree. I smile, trying to make things better.
“Oh well. Well hopefully Pamela gets hit by a truck soon because she deserves it in my opinion. My request to have this week off was denied even though I put it in an entire year ago. She said it was important that I ‘show team spirit’ and that I ‘play by the rules.’” I wave my arms around the empty department store. “What rules? What team spirit? What people? We have no customers because it’s Friday night, and everyone’s having fun. They’re clearly not shopping for make-up because … da da dum … they already have their games faces on!”
Marcy sighs heavily again, her pretty features disappointed.
“Yeah. Think of all the wild times we could be having at this very moment. All those gorgeous, virile men. God, I just can’t get over it.”
I’m about to say something comforting when the sound of high heels clicking on tile greets my ears. My mouth snaps shut and I spin around to find Pamela mincing towards us in an 80’s style padded-shoulder blazer and pencil skirt. Her pointy nose and haughty expression make her look like Meryl Streep from that fashion movie where she tortured Anne Hathaway, her intern. Seriously. Pam’s look of distaste alone could kill.
“Hi Pam,” Marcy pipes up in a cheerful tone. “Happy Friday!”
Our manager merely sniffs.
“Look sharp, ladies. You never know when a customer will appear out of thin air,” she says before stalking away once more.
I straighten my shoulders and smile brightly, but as soon as she’s out of sight, I slump again. Again, I enjoy this job and it’s fun to play with cosmetics all day, but our manager just makes it so hard. Plus, at the moment, all I can think about is getting off work. I really want to get to Sanctum’s Summer Bacchanal, and to be honest, it’s all Marcy and I have been talking about for months. After all, it’s a once-a-year experience where Sanctum members get to enjoy themselves in the privacy of a huge estate in Long Island. We could be there right now, and yet we’re here instead. What a let down.
But the good part is that even though we’ve missed the first six days of hedonism already, there’s still tonight and then a few activities over the weekend. As a result, as soon as our shift ends, Marcy and I are going to grab an Uber and then head over. Like fanatics, my friend and I stare at the clocks on our phones, our eyeballs moving in unison. Finally, the timer hits six and our heads jerk up.
“Yay,” my friend mutters under her breath. “Come on, Bridge, let’s bust this joint.”
With that, the makeup counter is officially closed, and we practically run towards the break room before grabbing our bags. Then, I summon an Uber on my phone while Marcy uses the bathroom and within minutes, we’re ensconced in an SUV on our way to Long Island.
The scenery passes by in a blur, and to be honest, we’re too excited to talk because Sanctum’s known for its no-holds-barred parties. Both of us struggle into sexy outfits in the backseat, and then we sit practically vibrating with energy as the SUV finally pulls into a gated neighborhood. Mansions roll by, as well as huge estates that look fit for a king. Finally, however, we arrive at a long driveway before stopping in front a huge stone castle. Literally, the place looks like something from the Middle Ages with its grey turrets and stained glass windows. All they need is a drawbridge and some horses out front. But it’s time to party, and Marcy and I look at each other with excitement.
“This is it,” the driver announces.
“Perfect. Thanks much!” I wave before hopping out. Marcy merely scrambles out of the SUV without a word, and then we stand there in the circular gravel driveway. It’s dusk already, the sky a deep purple-blue, and stars can be seen twinkling dimly in the night sky.
“Come on,” my friend breathes eagerly. “Let’s go find them because girl, I can’t wait another second.”
Faint music can just barely be heard over the hum of crickets, and we make our way around the castle to the grounds in back. Goodness, this place really is fancy because the gardens are elaborate and ornate, as if we’ve just stepped into the gardens of Versailles. There are gorgeous topiaries, bushes cut into geometric shapes, and a fountain twice my height tinkling lightly.
But Marcy’s like a bloodhound on a scent, following a trail of tiki lamps down a path.
“Come on Bridge!” she mutters with determination. “This way.”
Treading lightly, we make our way past a gorgeous infinity pool that appears to go on forever, disappearing into the horizon.
“Damn, now that’s a pool,” Marcy whispers, her eyes wide. “You could get lost in that thing!”
“It is, isn’t it?” I murmur, just as awed. “It looks you could fit two Olympic pools inside.”
But we’re not here to swim, and continue forwards, our steps determined. The music grows stronger, and we follow the fairy lights until we get to the back of the property where a wooded glen awaits. It’s dimly lit, but I can make out people scattered around the clearing, chatting, laughing, and of course, enjoying themselves in the dirtiest of ways.
After all, Sanctum isn’t just your average private club. Instead, it’s a secret society for wealthy men who enjoy the pleasures of the flesh with gorgeous, nubile girls. The men pay a hefty membership fee, and in return they get to meet sassy women like myself and Marcy, who make ourselves available for naughty fun and games.
Sure enough, as we step into the glade, the music seems to crescendo in volume, even as a woman’s thin, reedy wail of pleasure sounds over the chords.
“We’re definitely in the right place,” my friend murmurs, already undoing the belt of her duster.
“Oh yeah,” I agree, similarly shedding my coat. “This is going to be so fun, and I’m glad we came.”
After all, Marcy and I aren’t here to disappoint. As we disrobe, our assets come into view and it’s utterly scandalous. Marcy’s clad in a lingerie set made of purple lace that’s so translucent that I can see the shadow of her nipples, as well as a dark vee between her thighs. Meanwhile, my red lace lingerie set is just as bad, if not worse. I’ve got a g-string on, the thin strip of lace disappearing between my big white cheeks, and my bra is nowhere near enough to contain my huge Double D’s. They spill out of the cups, enormous and creamy, and I tweak one nipple, giggling.
But there’s no time to waste because immediately, Marcy is approached by a man wearing a goat mask. I can’t see his face, but we do see his broad shoulders and the enormous appendage hanging between his legs. OMG, is he for real? Marcy doesn’t even hesitate. Within a few seconds, they’ve found a clearing in the grass and she’s moaning up a storm as he bucks forcefully between her thighs. Mmm, what a lucky girl!
But what am I going to do for fun? I squeeze my legs together tightly as I look around. Everywhere couples, triples, and even quads are going at it, totally uninhibited and without a care in the world. I watch with wide eyes as one particularly lucky woman is taken in all three holes, the men plugging her deep as she moans gutturally around the shaft in her mouth. Again, she’s been fortunate, but what about me?
But maybe this is a time to familiarize myself with the bubbly cauldron because I’ve been curious about it for a long time. Mincing through the grass, I make my way to the back edge of the field where a huge cauldron sits. There’s no fire beneath it, although the grass around the cauldron has been trampled flat. Instead, various couples copulate frantically around the enormous pot, but instead of releasing at the appointed time, instead the couples pause. Then, the man staggers over the cauldron and points his hard cock over the opening before releasing with a wild growl. Holy shit! Jets of seed pour into the enormous black pot, and as I watch, another man staggers over to do the same, adding his stream of hot semen as well. It’s so dirty, and I love it.
But that’s not the only thing that makes the cauldron special. After the men finish, collapsing nearby, a few of the women mince over, giggling, and then dip their hands into the mixed semen inside. Oh yes, they’re really doing this. They take large handfuls of the liquid and then rub it all over their breasts and pussies, luxuriating in the filth. Quite a few women moan with bliss, coming hard as they coat themselves with the seed of multiple men.
Like I said, Sanctum is depraved. This scene is worthy of the craziest NC-17 movie, or maybe it’s like something that ancient priestesses did back in the day when they were celebrating the Moon Goddess. But here, in suburban Long Island? I would never guess that men and women could be so depraved.
Until tonight that is, because to be honest, I want a part of it. I’ve been dying to try the bubbly cauldron myself, but I’ve never gotten a chance. However, this is my golden opportunity and with a sway to my step, I too advance towards the cauldron, my nipples already tightening with anticipation.
When I draw near, I see that the pot is nearly full to the brim with sticky, white liquid, and the sight turns me on. Mm, how many men have already contributed? In the dark, there are quite a few naked male figures still going hard, and I know soon there will be new deposits. Slowly, I remove my lingerie, leaving my nubile body bare, a slight breeze caressing my thighs. Then, I reach my hand into the cauldron and merely dip my fingers in first. It’s warm and sticky and I giggle a bit before pulling them out to taste. Mm, oh yes, this is what I want.
Then I stick my hand back in, this time all the way to the wrist to get a good handful before pulling out once more and rubbing the frothy liquid all over my breasts and pussy the way the other women were doing. It feels so good, and to be honest, I’ve heard a lot about the magical properties of this mixed come. Well, not magical exactly, but it’s supposed to be really good for your skin, so I moan a bit before dipping my palm in again and scooping out another load. This time, I rub the male fluid over my nipples, making myself moan, before trailing my fingers down my center towards my ripe center.
Oooh, I can tell a few people are watching me now, and I tilt my head back, my lashes fluttering shut as I focus on what I’m about to do. With a breathy sigh, I gently probe my sweet opening before pulling my folds apart to show off the glistening insides of my swollen peach. A low male growl rumbles from my left, and I smile even though my eyes are closed. Then, I insert a come-soaked finger into my sweetest spot and start fingering myself. My eyes flutter closed as I struggle to remain standing because the sensation is so intense. Oh god, am I really doing this?
Male growls become louder, but it only makes me smile and moan. Quickly, I insert another finger, stretching myself out a bit, as my thumb strokes my hard nub. At this point, I probably don’t even need the lubricant from the cauldron because my inner nectar flows copiously, and there’s heat building inside my pelvis. My fingers stroke more forcefully and a small wail escapes my throat as the pressure builds.
“Oh, shit,” a man rasps from my left. “Fuuuuck.” A small giggle escapes my throat, but I don’t open my eyes. Instead, I continue with the show. Turning a bit, I pop my hand out of my sweetest spot and reach into the cauldron for another bubbly handful before turning around this time and bending over. Then, I spread my legs into a deep vee, but this time, instead of going for my pussy, I tease my asshole.
“Ohhhh,” is my breathless moan. “Mmm, that feels good.”
With gentle fingers, I work the male fluid into my tight pink drum and damn, it feels good. It’s not just what I’m doing but also the knowledge that I have the seed of multiple men all over my body and in my most private places too.
But the filth is too much. I can’t keep doing this indefinitely because it feels too good and suddenly the tingling in my tummy rises and I explode. A loud cry tears from my throat as climax shakes my curvy form and I can feel eyes on my sweetest spots as they contract violently, making for a wonderfully dirty show. I moan again, twisting my nipples, as bolts of energy course through my form and my knees go weak until I fall to the ground, panting and exhausted.
Yet it feels amazing too and when I rouse myself, it’s to the light patter of applause.
“That was wonderful, honey,” a woman sings from the darkness. “Very sensual.”
“Holy shit,” growls one man. “What’s her name?”
But it’s a man across the way who catches my eye. I can’t see him fully because he’s in shadow, but I can see that he’s tall and hulking with wide shoulders and a muscular physique. He’s wearing a mask of some sort that makes him look like a monster from the depths. A beast. An animal with claws and thick muscles ready to take what belongs to him. Even more, as he stalks forward, his blue gaze through the holes in his mask appear almost iridescent in the moonlight, and my heart begins to patter. Who is this beast? After all, it’s clear the monster wants something, and that something is me.
To be continued…
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