Gala Pandora Pt. 01

Crystal chandeliers cast shimmering light throughout the ballroom, their images reflected in the polished black marble floor and ornate mirrors lining the walls. Brocade silk-papered walls gave the space the sensuous air of a boudoir. Tables stood near the entry laden with luscious fruits and cheeses, decadent truffles, and sparkling flutes of champagne. In one corner a string quartet played, quietly filling the room with music.

From a set of tall gilded doors there trickled in a few last guests. A tall woman strode in, paused briefly as her butler took her coat, then moved confidently toward the seating area without waiting for him. After seeing to his mistresses coat, the tuxedoed butler took a position along the wall with the other servants. Interspersed among the maids and butlers were several slaves, creating a visual staccato of nude bodies and pressed uniforms.

Seated before them in richly upholstered chairs were dominants of various designations, dressed in formal attire. They spoke quietly to their fellows over the sound of the strings, discussing their predictions and placing informal wagers. An unrestrained laugh rang through the air, causing heads to turn toward the end of the room curiously and then smile. Several of the dominants held leashes attached to the collars of submissives who knelt or sat before their counterparts, still, obedient, and likewise beautifully garbed, though wearing significantly less.

From a straight-backed velvet chair positioned atop several marble steps at the end of the ballroom, a beautifully gowned woman surveyed the crowd. She noted with pride that the number of guests had grown again. This year's event was the best attended yet, and no doubt the trend would continue.

Her long lashes flickered as her green eyes, heavily lined in kohl and accented with sparkling gems, moved from face to face. Interest, excitement, tension, and lust were plainly visible, and she looked forward to seeing each of these grow over the next several minutes. She looked past the crowd and caught the eye of the tuxedoed woman standing at the doors. The woman nodded to indicate that all guests were now present.

The green-eyed woman turned her face briefly to her left and right. Seated on elegant chaises to either side of her dais were four women. To her left, the ladies Winter and Joy sat, a study in contrasts. Lady Winter wore her signature black, a crown of twisted branches rising from her midnight hair. An air of mystery surrounded her, enhanced by the sigils painted beneath her dark eyes and the raven-topped cane in her hand.

Next to her, radiating with vibrant energy sat Lady Joy, the source of the recent laughter. Garbed in white velvet, the skin of her face, neck, and hands shimmered with iridescent glitter. Her blue eyes sparkled with mirth, and her vivacious smile was palpable beneath the glittering half-veil she wore. As always, she carried a leather half-mask molded into a cat's features, and played with it idly as she waited.

To the right of the green-eyed woman the Ladies Willow and Pixie sat quietly observing the guests. Another contrasting pair, the elegant frame of Lady Willow sat tall and poised like a dancer. Her flaming hair, bedecked with cream colored flowers, cascaded over her bare shoulder to blaze a red trail across the ivory velvet of her gown. Her long fingers curled around the handle of a slender dressage whip.

Beside her, perfectly foiled by her statuesque counterpart, was Lady Pixie. By far the most diminutive of the four, her small, voluptuous frame was draped in a translucent Grecian-style gown embroidered with vines and flowers. Her hair was coiled around her head and wreathed in delicate ivy, and a pair of opalescent wings rose from her back. Her whimsical appearance was belied by the twin dragon-tongue whips dangling from each of her wrists.

Standing attentively behind each of the ladies was a slave clad in the traditional leather collar, harness, and cuffs of their service. Each bore a graceful and steady posture, and each kept their eyes fixed on their mistress. Lady Winter's slave also wore a black leather belt slung low across her hips, and her collar boasted several gleaming studs, one for every year of service to a Mistress of the House.

The green-eyed woman caught each of the ladies' eyes in turn and saw each nod. It seemed everyone was ready to begin the evening's activities. The woman smiled to herself and turned to look before her.

In a half-circle facing the five women knelt five naked males, each with their hands behind their back, eyes cast down to the floor. They'd been kneeling for nearly 20 minutes on the unyielding marble, but most appeared to be enduring it with only the occasional tremble to indicate fatigue. The mix of ages and body types was interesting, and the variety of skin tones was quite lovely this year. Sharp green eyes noted a trickle of sweat running down a younger males face. Fascinated by the evidence of discomfort, she watched it slide down the smooth cheek.

Pulling her eyes away from the boy, she sent her gaze to Lady Winter and nodded. The black-clad woman gestured to her slave and the girl moved quickly and gracefully to stand between the women and the kneeling competitors. From her belt she drew a silver bell which she rang for several seconds before clapping her hand around it. Silence reigned in the ballroom as she returned it to her belt.

"Attention, treasured guests! We welcome you to the sixth annual Gala Pandora! We hope that you are all excited by the evening's offerings!" The room erupted in applause, and the slave waited patiently for it to wane. "At this time the Ladies Winter, Pixie, Willow and Joy invite you to join them in honoring the namesake of this event, Mistress Pandora!"

All eyes rose to meet those of Mistress Pandora, the green-eyed woman seated atop the steps. The dominants rose from their seats to nod their heads respectfully in her direction while the submissives, slaves, and servants bowed low, in several cases prostrating themselves fully. The lace veil covering the lower half of her face hid her smile, but she nodded to them all as her green eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. This was a perk of her seniority, but it was nowhere near the best. Her eyes flickered briefly to the sweating boy, then returned to Lady Winter's slave. The dominants took their seats with a brief rustling of skirts and coattails while their servants returned to attention.

"Esteemed guests, we have a full evening ahead, so let us begin with the event which started this delightful tradition six years ago!" She paused while the attendees applauded once more, then gestured to the kneeling men. "Which of these untrained creatures will finish first? Which will finish last? Which may fail entirely to spill their seed for our consideration? Only time will tell! And only those who overcome the physical and mental challenges of this room - the hard floor, the attention of all of you, the evaluation of our esteemed Mistresses! - only they will be granted the opportunity to serve our Ladies!" She paused again as a wave of excited applause rose once more, then addressed the kneeling males, her voice lowering slightly. "You will begin at the crack of the whip. Only those who finish will be selected. All choices will be made by the Ladies, and first selection shall be the privilege of Mistress Pandora. Prepare to begin."

The slave unhooked a coiled whip from her belt and let it unfurl by her side. She looked to her Mistress and upon seeing her head incline, she drew back her arm. In a flash, she sent the body of the whip flying back and then sharply forward, the cracker at the end producing a sharp concussion of sound. At the signal, the kneeling males finally broke their stillness, arms moving gingerly as stiff joints protested, their hands coming around to grasp their limp cocks.

As the race began, Mistress Pandora studied the competitors more closely. The first was tall and dark, perhaps 30 years of age, with a muscular frame that suggested regular, intense workouts. Its smooth skin stretched taut over its frame, and every muscle beneath seemed to have been coaxed to its full potential. There was no apparent fatigue despite the lengthy kneeling, and its face was a study in focus. Indeed, this one was handling its cock with a determination that spoke of a driven nature. Perhaps a competitive bodybuilder?

The second entry was far less defined in its musculature. This one appeared older, beyond middle age but not quite senior. The body was softer, and the skin was showing the effects of decades of life in earth's gravity. A slight sag was present in the pectorals, and there was a definite pouching at the waist. In spite of these hallmarks of age, there was no apparent muscle fatigue, and its penis was already becoming erect in its hands. Its face was determined, but calm, lacking the intense focus of its neighbor. A hale body, and a bit of wisdom besides. Potentially interesting if it weren't for the long salt-and-pepper beard covering its face and neck. The Mistress stifled a look of distaste.

The third and fourth competitors were physically too like the first to be of much interest to her. One had the build of a laborer which was far more appealing, but its face was also covered in hair. The other looked more like a soldier with the telltale haircut and muscular neck. It appeared to be grappling with its phallus, as if it could force the thing to obey. Amusing, but not her cup of tea.

Though the entrants were not permitted to lift their eyes to hers, she could see that the crowd of onlookers was causing some of the males to struggle. These men were here by choice, undertaking what may have seemed an easy enough task: masturbate at a party. But aside from the soldier who was likely accustomed to being nude and even humiliated in front of his peers, most of these would never have been on display like this. The pressure of performing combined with the physical challenge of kneeling for so long before beginning was potent. Several of them were having difficulty achieving an erection, and that was undoubtedly compounding their frustration.

Untrained, raw in their desire to experience submission but with no true experience upon which to rely, these men were brave enough to try. The question was, could they put distraction, humiliation, and fear out of their minds long enough to complete a task they'd done countless times on their own?

The Mistresses eyes fell upon the final entry, and her lip curled up at the corner faintly. This one was older, and though she could see silver glinting in its hair, it nevertheless felt like a boy to her. It had a leaner build, almost delicate wrists and neck, and smooth skin. Sweat ran down from its temple betraying the tension of tired muscles, and though it was trying to focus on the task, its face showed frustration. The eyes often squeezed shut, and the brow furrowed. It frequently held its bottom lip between its teeth, a habit that reinforced the air of youth.

In spite of its struggle, the boy was slowly coaxing its cock to erection. No brute force here, no aggression. Every time its eyes opened it shut them again immediately as it tried to close itself off to the distractions of the room. The boy was clearly uncomfortable, but just as clearly committed to the task, and the combination intrigued her.

The minutes passed as the competitors stroked, squeezed, and occasionally even slapped their penises into rigidity. She noted the way each of them handled their cock, where they stroked, how fast, and whether they stimulated their balls as well. The older ones seemed to have a more definite technique, while the younger one seemed to switch between several. She watched them all coax themselves into hard arousal, and then begin the process of reaching orgasm.

At a certain point, as expected, each one reached the point in their arousal that allowed them to focus on the pleasure they felt. She watched them relax into their rhythms, hands stroking their shafts steadily, heads appearing and disappearing as they did. She watched as postures became less rigid, backs began to curve, heads fell forward by degrees. She gestured, and the music that had been playing lightly ceased abruptly. The sound of ragged breathing was clearly audible, and she allowed herself a moment to close her own eyes, reveling in the sound. For several minutes she listened, adrift in the intoxicating spaces of her imagination, inspired by the music they made.

All too soon she heard the first one reach orgasm. It grunted a few times as it came, then exhaled a shuddering breath. She felt her body respond to the sound with a wave of electric desire that spread from her belly down. The crowd remained completely silent as per the rules.

Several more minutes ticked by as she listened to the remaining four. Among the heavy breaths she heard the wet sound of a leaking cock being stroked rapidly. She opened her eyes to watch them. So near to orgasm, they appeared completely unaware of the silence, the air of tense anticipation that had gripped the ballroom. Eyes closed, bodies tense, their arms flexing as they stroked their straining cocks, they panted like dogs before her. Behind them the dominants were watching, leaning forward in their chairs, gripping the leashes they held with white-knuckled fingers.

Her eyes snapped back to the trial as she heard one of them utter a brief, cut-off grunt. The bearded face contorted as the would-be slave ejaculated, cum spilling over its fingers like water from a low-pressure fountain. The useless fool was gritting its teeth, trying to cum quietly.

Pandora looked away from the bearded one in irritation, and saw that its neighbor - the bodybuilder - was stealthily watching its competitor cum. Its dark brown eyes squeezed shut in a grimace as it, too began to cum, the thick cock pulsing visibly in its hands, deep groans pulled from its throat against its will. Cum landed on the floor in front of it, and the large eyes looked down at it for a split second before shutting tight. Was that a reaction of embarrassment, humiliation? No, that was more likely shame. Pandora glanced at Lady Pixie and saw that she was watching the man with her head tilted in curiosity, her eyes full of sympathy. Good. Pixie would know how to help him, and he'd become a strong and eager slave in her hands.

Pandora looked to the two remaining males and mentally guessed that the young-looking one would fail. It was still stroking itself with its right hand, and its left had begun to cup and squeeze its balls, but its expression was one of tension rather than anticipation. As expected, she saw its brow furrow with concern as the fourth man came, groaning loudly. Pandora kept her eyes on the boy despite the frisson of arousal that coursed through her.

She knew the boy was aware of its situation. It clearly had not been able to fully distance its attention from the other men. She felt a stab of pity for it, an inexperienced slave trying to complete its task, bearing the humiliation of being the last, and the fear of public failure. Ever the champion of the underdog, she did not want this one to fail. Besides, the rougher the stone, the more rewarding the eventual shine.

Pandora closed her eyes, listening to the boy's ragged breaths, the sound of its hand jerking its wet cock, and she visualized the orgasm. She imagined her own feeling of pride in its success. She let her emotions stretch out, willing the boy to feel her desire. She wrapped her thoughts around its hands, felt its energy in her mind, and let her arousal flow toward it. Hope in the end, that was her gift, and she gave it to the struggling boy now.

She heard him whimper, a sound full of longing that sent a torrent of desire through her body, and she opened her eyes to find him staring up at her from beneath his lashes. A moment of shock passed between them, but even as she processed this violation of the rules and before he could tear his gaze from hers, he let out a shuddering moan of pleasure and relief. Pandora held his gaze as he came, intoxicated by his reaction to her, her breath caught in her chest as his pearly cum shot from his rigid cock to land like a gift a full foot and a half from his body.

Instantly the ballroom exploded in sound as the guests applauded the end of the race, whistling appreciatively at this impressive finale. Maids ran to clean the floor before the men, wiping the black marble clean and then scurrying off before the applause ended. The males remained on their knees, all displaying fatigue now, all of them staring at the floor as they waited. The music resumed quietly as Lady Winter's slave once again took up a position before the crowd. As the applause ebbed, she addressed the room.

"Honored guests! We hope that you found this year's Novice Trial to be as *stimulating* as we did!" She winked at the crowd and they clapped loudly in agreement. "Excellent! Mistress Pandora is pleased by your enjoyment! And we're all pleased that these dogs finally managed to make their offerings!" She waited as the room filled with applause and shouts of agreement.

"We will now observe the selection of these raw slaves by our most honored Mistresses. Let us see first who shall have the honor of serving Mistress Pandora for the next year!" The slave stepped aside as she finished speaking.

The guests watched intently as Mistress Pandora rose from her seat, a dark green velvet dress fitted to her body from shoulder to knee, then cascading in layers to the floor. Her golden hair was swept up on the right and held in place with a feathered comb, while the left side tumbled freely across her shoulder. Her nose and mouth were obscured by the lace of her half-veil, but her eyes were clearly fixed on the boy.

Pandora held her left hand out, and a slave stepped from behind her chair to place something across her palm. Pandora stepped forward and descended the three stairs, only the slight susurrus of her gown betraying her motion to the males below. She knew that the moment could do with some drama, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She moved in near-silence to the waiting males, her eyes never leaving her target, until she stood before the sweating, trembling boy.

Pandora usually engaged in a grand ritual at this point, playing to the crowd and to her chosen slave-in-training. This time she leaned forward and whispered in the boy's ear as he knelt, head bowed. The boy nodded without looking up. Pandora whispered to him once more, then stood and lifted the hem of her gown. The boy lowered his face until his forehead rested on her bare foot. Pandora crouched and placed a gleaming chain around his neck, then clasped the ends together with a small lock. She placed her hand on his head briefly, then stood, the ballroom erupting in cheers and applause as she declared loudly, "I have chosen. This boy is Mine."