A Queen Among Gods

A Stranger's Touch - Gabriella

I am so freakin’ bored.

I never in my life thought I’d be bored watching a bunch of people getting hot ‘n’ heavy in public. Maybe I’m desensitized because I work here, and so when the club hosts a Mystery Sinner’s night, I’m usually working the bar and helping clean up the aftermath, which is f*****g nasty by the way.

The interior of the club has been decked out like a b**m s*x den with black satin drapes hanging from every fixture and erotic red lighting to set the mood. s*x toys ranging from playful to hardcore, line the walls to give the guests a visual thrill, but they’re only decorative. The club doesn’t supply toys to the guests for health and safety reasons. The music is blaring with melodies to get your heart racing and panties dropping, and there’s a live wax play show happening on stage. There’s plenty here to capture my attention, and yet all I’m doing is tuning them out. Maybe Mitchell killed the fun side of me.

I take a sip of my cocktail and glance at myself in a full-length mirror across the room. To my credit, I look fantastic. My long blonde hair is up in a high pony and flowing down my back, but ain’t nobody going to be pulling on it tonight. I’m wearing my tight little black dress with ultra-thin straps and ruching down the front that dips into my cleavage. The fabric clings to me like a second skin and accentuates my curves to perfection. My ass is lifted and ready to be admired thanks to my black 7” peep-toe platform ankle strap stilettos. I’m a respectable 5’9” but in these heels, my legs look long enough to reach the heavens, and the body oil glistening off my skin doesn’t hurt either.

Since the theme of the evening is Mystery Sinners, that means everyone is expected to wear masks. I think it’s more to set a mood than create anonymity, because unless your face is completely covered you’re not masking much. I don’t need anonymity, so I’m wearing a beautiful black lace eye mask with intricate detailing and rhinestones around the temple. I am, however, greatly underdressed compared to my partners in crime this evening.

I smirk into my drink as Derrick unashamedly sucks the neck of his partner of three years, Wyatt, eager to leave his mark for all to see.

“Are you trying to give him a hickey or drink his blood?” I tease as I lean against the table we’re standing at.

Derrick withdraws his mouth from Wyatt’s neck, “I’d rather be drinking something else of his, but all in good time.”

“You’re going to give me blue balls,” Wyatt says in a muffled voice from behind his mask.

“What was that?” Derrick asks, feigning ignorance.

Wyatt lifts his mask onto his head and glowers at Derrick, “You heard exactly what I said.”

“I did, but now I can do this,” says Derrick, capturing Wyatt’s face in his hands and kissing him deep and possessively. Wyatt circles his arms around Derrick’s waist and pulls him close returning his kiss. As happy for my friends as I am, I can’t help but envy what they have.

Wyatt is 6’2” with soft, very light caramel skin, and piercing blue eyes that are hidden by full-black contacts. The contacts, paired with his prominent eyebrow bones covered in thick eyebrows, make his eyes look like two black holes. His cheekbones and jawline rival Derrick’s and look even more pronounced with his smouldering black eyeliner and bright ruby-red lipstick. He has shoulder-length blonde frizzed curly hair with dark roots – courtesy of his Zimbabwean mother – and is toned from top to bottom. Wyatt identifies as male but lives for androgyny. He loves dressing to reflect his mood and personality and not his gender, which is something I love about him. Tonight he’s dressed in a tight black mesh top that criss-crosses across his chest leaving his ribs and obliques exposed and leaving hints of his chest uncovered to Derrick’s eyes. He’s also wearing black harem pants with caped fabric around the back and shin-high black leather boots covered in straps and buckles, but it’s the mask that really pulls the look together. It’s a white ceramic mask with black metallic veins protruding from the eyes creating veins along the forehead and catching the light. The carving detail of the mask makes it look ominous and sinister, and when he wears it over his face, the black contacts really make the overall look, demonic. But sexy demonic, like you’re not sure if he’s there to bring you pleasure or pain.

Derrick on the other hand is a very cliché sexy devil, but fashionable as always. He’s decked out in a bright red leather suit jacket with matching pants, a sheer white shirt and a black leather tie. He’s given himself a little more height today by wearing black leather chunky 3” heel ankle boots, and of course, the look wouldn’t be complete without his mask. They’ve really gone for the devil and his demon slave look tonight, so Derrick’s mask is a distressed red leather mask that covers the top of his face with two very large red horns pointing to the ceiling. I think they look amazing and put most of the people here to shame, even me. I mean, sure, I could have come dressed as a dominatrix, but I wouldn’t want to give all the submissives around here the wrong idea.

Derrick manages to come up for air long enough to look at me, and even through his mask I can see the concern, “Ella? You okay?”

I give him a reassuring smile, “I’m fine, but I think I’m going to have one more drink and then call it a night.”

“No, don’t go,” Wyatt whines, “This is the first time you’ve been out in ages because that cockroach wasn’t keeping you cooped up in that loft as his live-in maid.”

“I know, and I really thought I’d enjoy tonight, but I’m just not feeling it,” I admit.

“Are we being too into ourselves and ignoring you?” Worries Derrick, “You know I would never want you to be a third wheel,” he says, reaching out and placing his hand on mine.

“Stop your fussing, you sound like your mother,” I say playfully.

Derrick gasps dramatically and clutches his chest.

“If I had said that I wouldn’t see action for at least a whole day,” says Wyatt in faux horror, making me snigger.

“Hey, I can withhold s*x way longer than that,” Derrick protests.

“Remember the other week when I accidentally ruined the dress you were going to wear for that Gloria Gaynor number you were planning, and you told me you were so mad you wouldn’t have s*x with me for a week?”

“I’m still trying to fix that dress thanks to you,” says Derrick in irritation.

“Not the point. What ended up happening later that night?”

“I don’t remember,” says Derrick evasively, glancing away.

Wyatt captures his face turning it to face him, “So, you don’t remember waking me up in the night so we could go a few rounds?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

I burst out laughing, “You couldn’t even last a full day? That’s just pathetic.”

Derrick narrows his eyes as Wyatt then me, “Well, if you had a decent d**k at home like I do, you wouldn’t be able to go a full day without it either,” he says defensively.

I smile and raise my hands in surrender, “You’re probably right.”

“Anyway, back on topic,” says Derrick, bumping Wyatt with his hip, “If you want to go home we’ll get you to a cab, but we really hope you stay.”

“I’ll stay for one more drink, but as much fun as watching you two make out is, maybe this was just too soon for me.” I shrug.

Wyatt moves around the table, pulls me into a tight hug and kisses my cheek as I happily return his hug.

“We won’t push, but we’re here for you no matter what. You deserve way better than that asshole, and if I was a straight man, there’s no way in hell I would let you get away,” he says while caressing my cheek affectionately with a warm smile planted on his face.

I smile touched by his gesture, “Keep that up and you’re going to make me blush.”

“I’m with Wyatt, if I was a straight man I’d be all over you like glitter on a drag queen,” adds Derrick.

I throw my head back and laugh, “Oh please. Wyatt here has at least taken a few dips into the p***y pool, but you? You wouldn’t even eat a p***y if it was deep-fried.”

Derrick stares at me, his mouth agape and Wyatt quickly lowers his mask over his face to hide his laughter.

“I feel like I’m being ganged up on tonight,” sulks Derrick.

“It’s a mystery sinner’s night, someone’s getting ganged up on,” I deadpan.

This time Wyatt can’t hold back his laughter and raises his hand for a high-five, “That was a good one.”

I smile and return his high five just as Try Me by The Weeknd comes on and immediately Derrick and Wyatt lock eyes with one another. Wyatt holds out his hand as a silent message passes between the two of them. Derrick takes his hand as if in a trance and the two make their way onto the dance floor; their eyes never leaving one another. The two of them get lost in their own world as they move like a single organism; their hands roaming each other memorising every bump and curve like brail. I can’t help but sigh at this beautiful love and passion they have for one another.

A chill creeps up my back and I can feel the hairs rise on the back of my neck as goosebumps spread across my skin. I can’t help feeling like someone is watching me, which isn’t unexpected given where I am, but this feels different. It feels… intense.

I slowly scan the club until I lock with a pair of eyes across the room that have me glued to the spot. I’ve never seen eyes like these in my whole entire life!

Eyes piercing silver: the colour of liquid mercury, stare at me like they can see right through me. My stomach tightens and my heart flips as I gradually take in the owner’s appearance. Splayed out on a couch across the room is a man whose frame is enough to emasculate every man in the club if not the whole world. His gargantuan muscular frame is imposing, and I feel like the couch he’s on should be straining just to have him seated on top of it. He has long thick white hair, the colour of the purest snow, falling down his back like a majestic mane. His bronze skin even from here looks smooth as silk. He has a beard and moustache as pure white as his hair, all of which compliment his eyes which are standing out like two bright gems behind a simple black eye mask. It’s so understated that it does little to obscure him. So much of him stands out that the mask actually seems to draw more attention to him. He’s wearing an expensive-looking black suit jacket that’s straining against God-like muscles, and just as I think that, a smirk creeps up his face making me shiver. Underneath his jacket is just a simple fitted black button-down shirt with most of the buttons left undone exposing his smooth gigantic pecks to my perverted eyes. My eyes dip lower taking in his tight black slacks and black dress shoes and it takes all my self-control not to steal a peak at the goods.

A guy who is that ripped is either overcompensating for something or… he just wants the rest of him to match up to what he was born with, and I’m unsure which, but I know which one I’m hoping for. Before my thoughts can spiral out of control in the cesspool that is my depraved mind, I notice the people next to him. To his left is someone who I can only tell has dark espresso-like skin because of the colour of their hands, which are currently very busy. Their face is hidden behind the most incredible mask I’ve ever seen. It’s black metal, shaped like a shield but contoured to their face and decorated with incredible metal floral work that has me in awe. It’s like some medieval-inspired avant-garde mask that should be on a podium at an art gallery somewhere.

They have long fire-red dreadlocks, just as unnatural in colour as the other guy’s white hair. I don’t know who does their wigs, but Derrick should hire them. The redhead looks as large in stature as the other one but is wearing a black tuxedo with a white dress shirt and feathered black bowtie. The outfit is pretty tame for such an event except for those shoes! Damn, I need to get me a pair like that. Platform leather high heels with red 9” heels and backing layered with black straps up to the ankle. They scream ‘Come f**k me’, and I guess some people got the message. Sitting to the redhead’s right is an ebony enchantress in a red satin side slit bodycon dress, with her head thrown back in ecstasy as the redhead plays with her p***y. Meanwhile, to the left is a lean little twink with creamy skin and dark black curls, clinging to the redhead’s arm as they stroke his d**k for all to see. The display doesn’t at all surprise me given the event we’re attending, but what does surprise me is the Zeus-looking guy beside them who hasn’t taken his eyes off me this entire time. He seems completely oblivious to what is going on beside him while his eyes stay trained on me and it’s causing something dormant to awaken from deep in my gut.

As I continue to look on, a group of people walk by, and as soon as they pass, I stand up straight in bewilderment to find the man with silver eyes has completely disappeared. I look around frantically, wondering where the hell he went. I’m confused as to how he disappeared so fast and almost start to question if I saw him at all. I take a step back to try and look around for him only to feel my back collide with something hard like cement. Large firm hands grip my upper arms, and my knees almost give way from the indescribable burning feeling that explodes through my body. It’s not like putting your hand on a hot stove, it’s not painful – far from it. It’s the most erotic feeling I’ve ever felt in my life, like the ultimate orgasm after hours of edging.

I look back, my head slowly tilting up to find the face that belongs to these hands, and my heart begins to pound erratically when I look up to see those same piercing silver eyes staring down at me with unfathomable reverence. Sweet f*****g Jesus, he’s massive! He has to be 7’9” and built like a Sherman Tank. My breathing hitches, and part of me wonders how he got to me so fast, but the other part doesn’t care. My whole body is singing from his touch and yet, is put at ease by it at the same time.

His hand ever so softly glides up my arm like he’s touching the finest China, eliciting a shiver from me as my eyes roll back. His fingers slowly trail across my shoulder and up my neck and I feel the pad of this thumb brush against my lips. On instinct, I pucker my lips against his thumb and tease my tongue against his flesh ever so slightly. When I finally will my eyes open, I gasp at the intensity of the eyes looking down at me. They’re shining even brighter than before! How is that possible? He takes my gasp as an invitation and slips his large thumb into my mouth, his eyes speaking a command that my own soul seems to hear loud and clear.

I suck on his thumb, twirling my tongue around it to give him an idea of what else my tongue can twirl around, and slowly he starts backing us into a corner, his eyes never looking away from me for even a second. I don’t even think he’s blinking. He frees his thumb from my mouth and slowly lets his fingers graze down my chest as he slides his hand into my dress, cupping my breast possessively. I suck in a deep breath only to let out a mewl of pleasure when I feel his wet thumb brush back and forth over my n****e. I feel my n*****s harden and my breathing becomes laboured as his touch sets my body aflame.

I force my eyes open to look at him; searching his masked face for answers to questions I can’t even create yet. Our surroundings fade into the background as I grip his thick, muscular thighs and press my body back against him, feeling his very large and very hard d**k pressing against my back. My head swims trying to picture what he’s working with as I work my body against him and register the rapid rising and falling of his chest.

As his thumb continues to tease my n****e; his hand sliding from one breast to the other to give my breasts equal attention, I feel his other hand glide up my oiled-up thigh. I take a deep breath, my body coiled in anticipation as I watch his hand travel slowly up my inner thigh and cup my p***y firmly and possessively. I whimper as his mere touch sets my insides on fire while my body completely surrenders to his display of dominance. Such a simple gesture, but one that screams that my p***y is now his and his alone, and the shocking thing about that is that I don’t mind in the slightest.

His fingers slowly rub me through my panties, my juices soaking through the fabric. His touch is strong and powerful mixed with the perfect amount of tenderness to make my c**t swell and throb for him and my p***y clench; pulsating like it’s begging to be filled. I bite into my lip hard biting back a moan as he pinches my folds around my c**t and begins to rub with perfect precision. I throw my head back against his chest as my knees buckle, but his arm around my chest holds me in place, keeping me upright against him.

One hand is teasing and tweaking my n****e while the other is teasing and pinching not just my c**t but my entire p***y too. My hips buck of their own volition, crying out for his touch while my body writhes against him, tingling in delight when I feel his hard c**k twitching against my back. He wants to be inside me as badly as I want to feel him inside me. He doesn’t even try to make me touch him, and the way he has me pinned against him, I can’t even manoeuvre my arm back enough between us to make him feel as good as he’s making me feel.

As he alternates massaging my breasts I feel him lower his head and brush his lips against the shell of my ear, his beard tickling my heated flesh as he slowly slides his hand into my panties. A breathy moan escapes me the second I feel his fingers skim over my c**t finding their way to their destination with ease. I start to moan as I feel his finger slip inside me to test the waters, but quickly his other hand covers my mouth, muffling my moan against his palm. Feeling how stretched out and ready I am for him; he slides in a second finger causing me to dig my nails into his thighs.

His hold on me keeps me standing upright as he begins working his fingers inside me in a come-here motion with ferocious precision while rubbing his palm against my c**t. Wild uninhibited moans fly from my mouth only to meet the flesh of his palm over and over again.

I feel his breath tickle my ear. “Your pleasure is only for my ears to hear, and I hear your seductive cries loud and clear,” comes his deep bass voice causing every synapse to fire at once. My entire body lights up like the 4th of July at the sound of his voice as it speaks to parts of me I never knew existed, and as I try to process them, his pace increases, his fingers working inside me like he’s a trained musician and I’m his favourite instrument. I cling to his forearms, clawing at the fabric of his jacket, breathing heavily against his hand when I suddenly – as if coming from his own hand – feel a powerful electric shock shoot through my p***y. My eyes blow wide, and I scream out in unbridled ecstasy against his hand as the force of the shock rapidly brings on the most intense orgasm of my entire life.

My body quivers and shakes, my legs no longer able to hold me up as wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure crashes over me and all I see is black spots dancing in my vision. I barely register his fingers withdrawing from me as I slump back against him, panting and still quivering like I just stuck my finger in a socket, but in the best way possible. I feel him fix my dress and place the most tender kiss behind my ear, that despite our crude display, suddenly makes me feel cherished.

“We’ll meet again, Starlight,” he whispers, as he slowly releases his hold on me.

I manage to summon enough coherency to turn around and speak, to ask the man whose touch is like fire for his name or something, but all I see is wall. I look around in confusion, the air now suddenly feeling cool against my sweat-coated flesh. I look around wildly, briefly questioning if I’ve been drugged or am just going insane, but the still presenting tingling in my body and throbbing in my p***y is all the proof I need to know I did not imagine that.

“Gabriella, is everything alright?” I hear Derrick’s concerned voice. He comes up and places his hands on my shoulders and suddenly, his touch doesn’t feel comforting like it used to. It feels wrong, dirty almost and so in reflex I pull away from his touch leaving him looking surprised. “What’s wrong?” He asks as Wyatt comes to stand beside him, lifting his mask to show an equally concerned face.

I take one more look around the crowd, but still no sign of my mystery man. I guess he took the Mystery Sinner’s theme to heart.

Staring off in bewilderment, my body still reels from the most unbelievable orgasm as the image of piercing silver eyes flood my mind. “Who was that masked man?”