Festival of Desire

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Festival of Desire

 

By Shorngirl

 

Giving in to Lust

 

         It all seemed innocent enough. I mean, aside from the rather auspicious name, it was no different than any other celebration. The glaring difference was the clientele and what they expected to experience.

         I’d never attended, unfortunately enough; my twenty-two years only just put me underage the last time the event was held. Oh, I’d heard of it, to be sure and I tried to dream up some way to get through the scrupulous attendance qualifications. Nothing I came up with worked. I couldn’t even get past the first page of the website. It was as though they had tapped into the federal government’s files to verify a person’s age. Perhaps they had; such were the caliber of people that attended.

         I remembered watching the Stanley Kubrick film, Eyes Wide Shut, and imagined scenes playing out something like the party at the estate. Women were the willing participants in a ritual of spiritual and sexual release, no holds barred. I masturbated furiously during the scene in the great hall. Picturing myself as one of the unmasked women in the sacrificial circle; I was naked before a room full of well-to-do aristocrats.

         I could take or leave the chanty, somewhat eerie music that was played in the background, but it did lend a certain mystique to the scene in the movie, at least. I just knew that this Festival of Desire had to be a similar affair.

         It was such a thrill when I entered my information, this time flying through the interview process, something I had been denied at seventeen. They left very little to the imagination, requiring a set of full-length photos of myself, clothed and naked. They assured me that there was the utmost discretion when dealing with so personal a portfolio. I believed them; such was my overwhelming curiosity.

         I’d always been an oversexed girl, and it had gotten me into a fair amount of trouble when I was young. It didn’t help that I was easy to look at, and had a figure that most men, and some women, lusted after. I won’t lie when I say that I’m bisexual, and I was open about it on the application. This admission opened up an entirely new line of questioning, and I was certain I’d be seeing both male and female guests at the festival.

         When I finally hit ‘send’ at the end of the process, I had an overwhelming need to satisfy myself. Unfortunately, one of the stipulations of being accepted as a candidate, meant that I was required to abstain from any sexual gratification until the night of the event. Ordinarily, this would not have been too much of a problem. The stinger was, that the Festival of Desire was a full month away.

         The first week was hard enough, as I had gotten used to having sex, or masturbating almost every night. By the end of the third week, my regular partners had given up on me being an easy lay, and the phone calls had all but dried up. Dried up, save for one; Paula.

         Paula and I were more than sex partners, we were all but best friends. We shared almost everything with one another, but I had been shy about revealing my intentions concerning the Festival. I was certain that she wouldn’t understand.

         “Come on, Bryce. It’s been weeks, and I need my ‘bad girl’ fix.” Paula begged on the phone. It was true. When I was with Paula, sexually, I was the bad girl. She didn’t do anything to stop my garish behavior when we were together that way, instead, encouraging me to be as outrageous as my senses would allow.

         “Paula, you have no idea how much I want to, but I just can’t right now.” I sighed.

         “Something’s going on. I’m coming over.” Paula decided, hanging up her phone before I could object. Now it would be doubly hard for me to resist, and I wondered if I would be forced to reveal my true reason for refusing her.

Torture and Confession

         The knock on my door launched me off my couch, not having expected Paula to actually follow through with her threat. I had at least thrown on a pair of panties and a long fleece, that fell to mid-thigh, just in case she did.

         “Paula. You really didn’t need to…”

         “Something is going on with you, and I’m going to find out what it is. I know it’s not your time because we’re synced, babe.” It was true, and I wondered if the old adage was true about women’s periods coinciding with one another, after being together for a while. I invited her in and she promptly went to the bar to fix us both a stiff drink. “Let’s talk.”

         It only took ten minutes or so before she figured out what I was up to. “Paula. Don’t act so shocked. You know I’ve talked about this before.” I explained.

         “Yeah, as a teenage fantasy, Bryce, not an actual… thing!” Paula chided. “Do you have any idea what they’re going to expect of you?”

         “Actually, no.” At her incredulous expression, I continued. “I mean, I have some idea. Have you ever seen Eyes Wide Shut?”

         “You can’t be serious. What is this, some sort of satanic cult?” Paula asked, and having seen the movie together, I could understand her imagining it that way.

         “I’ve been assured that it isn’t. It’s all very… secretive though.” I admitted, coyly.

         “Well, as long as they don’t hurt my favorite toy.” Paula reached out and caressed my cheek with her longer-than-long fingernails. “So, they told you no sex until this thing happens? I’m guessing they really want you primed.”

         “I think that’s the idea, yeah.” I sighed.

         “You know, they may have told you not to come, but that doesn’t mean you can’t please someone else. I think you should give me a little one-way attention, Bryce.” Paula moaned, twitching her hips upwards, her pussy mound more than evident inside her skintight leggings. The next thing I knew, she had peeled them down, revealing her freshly shaved mons. Her scent immediately hit me, and it was all I could do not to kneel between her legs and pleasure her.

         I thought back to the abstinence clause, and I couldn’t remember anything pertaining to my pleasuring others. It was certainly clear about my own, however, and I wasn’t sure if I could service my friend without spontaneously combusting. The temptation was too much, and Paula knew it would be. “You’re evil.” I moaned, crawling on all fours until my mouth was inches from her pouting lips.

         “Hey, you’re the one that’s volunteering to be slaughtered on the altar of lust.” She chortled, grabbing a hank of my hair and pulling me tightly into her fragrant cunt. The last time we were together, I distinctly remember there being a generous bush covering her sex, so this was something new, and I liked it. The smooth, wet folds succumbed to my tongue as I split them, swallowing her, and centering my attention on her engorged clit.

         I could feel my own clitoris throbbing between my legs, and I wanted nothing more than to switch places with Paula once I had brought her off. It didn’t take long, either. Within a few minutes, she was moaning and pawing at my head, disheveling my long blonde hair so it lay over her belly, my mouth working feverishly underneath.

         Paula’s muscular thighs squeezed my head tightly as she let out a cry of pleasure, her orgasm echoing through her body and holding my face tightly against her. It was the hardest I ever remembered her coming, ever.

         I sat back on the floor, wanting more than anything to let Paula have a turn at me. I knew that it wasn’t in the cards, so as she basked in her afterglow, I stood and took a long swallow of my drink.

         “That was amazing.” Paula sighed, making no effort to cover herself, her legs splayed wide. “Do you want to know why?”

         “Sure. I mean, I guess so,” curious.

         “I was imagining you being forced to do all manner of outrageous acts at this Festival.” She admitted. “You know they’re really going to put you through your paces, Bryce.” She said, almost knowingly.

         I knew she was right, but I couldn’t help wondering why she said it. “I know, but you seem to know something I don’t.”

         “Let’s just say, I’ve done my research.” Nothing more was said, but I had to wonder just what she knew, that I didn’t. The rest of the night was pure torture, after having given my friend a further two orgasms. At one point, I swore I really was going to come, all without being touched. Was this what they wanted? Was this how they wanted me?

An Unexpected Reality

         The day had finally come, and all day at work, my pussy was absolutely vibrating. Every time I moved or walked, or did anything, the simple friction of my panties against my sex was almost too much. It was all I could do not to come from the stimulation, but I had managed not to.

         As I closed out my computer, I knew that the next time I returned to it, I may be an entirely different person. I had such high expectations for this festival, and I almost hoped that the experience would be life-changing. The cool of the night air played against my dampened panties, pressed tightly against my overtly overwrought sex. This was it.

         The taxi dropped me at the address, and I was a bit taken aback that it seemed to be an old, abandoned warehouse. He even asked if I was sure I had the correct address. After checking myself, I assured the taxi driver that it was. He drove away with some reluctance, leaving me on the sparsely lit street.

         There was an entrance a few feet down the building, a single light illuminating a sign that was immediately familiar; a cursive ‘O’ with an ‘FD’ inscribed within. It was indeed the place. It was the same symbol that headed every page of the application I had filled in so carefully.

         A doorbell was the only option as the door was utterly blank, with no handle or knob at all. As I pressed the button, another woman climbed out of a car behind me, and looking at her, I wondered what they might have seen in me. She was model material. “You here for the Festival?” She asked, her legs going on forever from under her micro skirt.

         Almost embarrassed, I answered. “Yes, I am.” I could tell that she was giving me the same up and down as I was giving her. “I’ve never done this before,” I added.

         “Honey, you only ever do this once.” She sighed, looking down at her watch.

         The door suddenly opened, and a rather imposing-looking man swung it wide enough for us both to enter. “Follow the signs.” That was all he said, disappearing into a small office a few feet down a long hallway. I wondered what she meant by, ‘you only ever do this once’? I didn’t have long to imagine, because as we rounded the second corner, the dingy hallway opened into a large room.

         Around the perimeter, were stations that seemed customized for each participant. The woman who entered with me immediately found her name on the far wall, and a few seconds later I spied the station with ‘Bryce Gellar’ stenciled on the wall in paint. Strangely, it looked a lot like a salon, and I worried that they might do something to my hair. I had always held my hair in the highest regard, and the thought of some stranger having at it was terrifying. But, as I looked around, I saw exactly what was going on.

         There wasn’t anyone there, as I set my bag down next to the chair. For lack of any other instructions, I took a seat. Looking next to me, there was a pretty brunette, who was sporting a chin-length bob, and judging by the amount of hair that covered the floor around her, she’d sacrificed a lot before I got there. Looking around, everyone was getting a makeover, some more drastic than others. Suddenly, there was a presence behind me, and without the customary mirror, I had to turn to see who it was.

         “Well, well, blondie. We can’t be sending you into the castle with all that hair flying around, now, can we?” A flamboyant-looking guy said, with a glint in his eye. He turned and motioned to another man floating in the middle from girl to girl. “Rudolph! See what you want with Rapunzel here.”

         Rapunzel? I had long hair, but it barely touched my butt. “You’re going to cut my hair?”

         “And then some, sweetheart.” The other man, Rudolph, I guess, came sliding over to examine me.

         “Ah! My little Bryce. I’ve been eyeing your pictures and know just what the rich bitches will enjoy. Carmine, can we talk for a minute.” He pulled the first guy away so I couldn’t hear them talk above the din of the room. I sat there staring at the blank wall in front of me, worried for my precious mane.

         When my ‘stylist’ returned, he had an evil grin on his face. “Well, precious, say goodbye to all this… fluff.” He tossed my hair in the air, allowing it to fall haphazardly around my shoulders.

         “What? What do you mean, say goodbye?” I questioned.

         “Hey, when Rudolph speaks, it’s the law, baby.” He answered, lifting a pair of scissors from the makeshift counter suspended from the wall.

         “But I love my hair.” I pouted.

         “You can still love it… as a memory that is.” Carmine mused, testing the scissors.

         I cringed as he sunk the evil blades into my hair just below my earlobe and cut. I never heard anything so loud as those shears, crunching right next to my ear, and I couldn’t help but shiver.

         “Easy, Bryce, easy. You’ve got a long night ahead of you, and this is just hair, honey.” Carmine chortled, as he continued around my head. As the cold steel slipped mercilessly along the top of my neck, I groaned. I knew how I looked with a bowl cut. My mother had insisted on them when I was little, and I hated the flouncy cap of curls that danced around my face. I couldn’t imagine I’d look any better now. For the time being, I was thankful for the lack of a mirror.

         “There. That’ll do for starters.” Carmine mused, cupping the ends, and blousing them, playfully. “Now, for the ‘pièce de résistance’.” My eyes shot wide open as I felt him comb in a part around the border of my crown, pinning a tassel of hair to the top of my head with an alligator clip. The grew even wider, I was sure when I saw him pick up a set of clippers from the counter.

         “You’re not really going to use those on me, are you?” I begged, scared to take my eyes away from them as they came to life in his hands.

         “Oh yes, I am, baby. They’re happy clippers, ‘cause they get to feast on blonde, and blonde hair always tastes the best.” If I could have shrunk into the chair any further, I would have, but my ass was almost off the edge as it was.

         If I’d known what he was about to do, I probably would have made an effort to run. By the time I realized what the little buzzing monsters were doing, they had shaved a hank out of my hair right to the part! “Oh, my God!” I yelped, as I reached up to feel the barren scalp left behind.

         “Oh, you know it, sugar. This is the ultimate undercut.” Carmine seemed happy as his clippers, as he continued to run the things up my scalp. Row after painful row fell away from my head, and now I was extremely grateful that I had no reflection of myself staring back at me.

         The room was a bit on the chilly side, and now I could feel it, on my scalp! Every time Carmine would breathe out, the air would send shivers down my spine. I just couldn’t believe this was happening but knew that there was nothing to do but try and embrace the moment. I shifted up in the chair, thrusting my chin forward, defiantly.

         “That a girl, Bryce. You’re gonna be hotter than a pepper goin’ in there tonight.” Carmine grinned, finishing up the undercut, or so I thought.

         In the flurry of tension that I had been having over my hair, I had completely forgotten why I was there. After all this, whatever this was, I was to be taken to the festival, and lord knew what that might entail. I’d lost track of what Carmine was doing in my reverie, but when I felt the scrape of a razor against my scalp, I was immediately brought back.

         Before, I had been grateful for the lack of a mirror, but just then, all I wanted was to see what this creature looked like. My hand slipped up along my neck but was swiftly pressed away.

         “Careful, sugar. Can’t have you cutting yourself before your big reveal. You’ll have plenty of time to absorb what has happened to you… after.” He mused, continuing with my shaving, until he had migrated from one side of my head to the other.

         When he finally let down the knot of hair that still clung to the crown of my scalp, it felt odd, almost electric, as it caressed the newly exposed flesh. I should have known that the bob he had given me was only the start. Combing the hair down from the center part I’d always worn, he began to snip with those insipid scissors again. He barely touched the front, but as he progressed to the back, I felt the cold of the steel blades rise high on my nape, over my nape, and onto my scalp, finally finishing where the knot of my occipital bone must surely be exposed.

         He quickly turned to the opposite side and repeated the exercise, leaving me with what surely had to be the most drastic A-line bob on the planet. Unimpeded this time, my hand reached up to feel what had been done. The hair that hung from my head felt thin and lifeless, so thin was the covering it offered. Beneath that, bare flesh; and a shiver coursed down my spine as I examined the newfound smoothness where my glorious hair had once hung.

         The skin was still slippery from the shaving oil, and I thought, for a moment, that I might actually be aroused from the sensation as my fingertips caressed my scalp. “Oh, my God,” I whispered under my breath.

         Finally, Carmine picked up a handheld mirror from the counter and handed it to me, allowing me to see what damage had been wrought. Were it on anyone else, I would have thought the cut to be sexy, even flattering. On me, with the memory of my once flowing tresses still fresh in my mind, the look seemed overtly sexual, as if designed to simply entice the observer. It made me feel less, uncannily subservient, as I did my best to see the back. Perhaps that’s exactly what they wanted.

         “Well, let’s get ‘em off, so we can finish you up,” Carmine demanded. He stood expectantly, waiting for me to comply. I looked around the room, and almost everyone was in different stages of undress, some naked, and some looking decidedly different than when they arrived, I was sure. I tried to spot the woman I had arrived with, but she, like me must have been ‘altered’, and picking her out from the eleven other girls in the room was impossible.

         It then occurred to me that there were twelve of us. I shuddered with the realization that this number reflected what I remembered from the film a bit too closely. Was this going to be like that? I frisson of fear lighted on me as I began to strip.

         “Oh, doll, you’re even better than the photos. They are going to love you.” Carmine bubbled, as my panties fell to my ankles, revealing my carefully manicured bush, the whitish blonde curls, resting proudly on my mons. “Just as I thought. That, my darling, will have to go. No pubes for you.”

         I distinctly remembered most of the other girls still sporting their pubic hair and wondered if I would be the only one singled out to be so rudely exposed. “Is this just for me, or will all the others need to be shaved?” I asked.

         “No, you, my darling Bryce, will be the lone ‘slick minx’.” Carmine chortled, as he readied a much small set of cordless clippers. “Now, sit on the edge of the chair and open those ludicrously long legs of yours.” He knelt down on one knee, and I did as he asked, opening my thighs, and giving him an unobstructed view of my sex.

         The vibration of the clippers felt strangely erotic as he mowed through my fur, sending my nether wisps to the floor to join the lion’s share of my hair, which lay there, detached. Then, with the same dexterity he had surely wielded on my scalp, he set about shaving me. In no time at all I was as bare as a prepubescent girl.

         “Luscious,” Carmine exclaimed, as he stood. Opening a box that lay beneath the countertop, he revealed a dark red satin wrap, that seemed to be floor-length. No, put this on, and you’ll be ready; glorious and ready, I have to say.”

         And just like that, Carmine was off, seeing another girl whose stylist was a bit less proficient. Standing there, conspicuously, I was noticed by Rudolph, who quickly whisked me and two other girls out of the room and into a waiting limousine. It was one of those stretch jobs and was easily going to accommodate the rest of us.

         A few minutes later, we were moving, a caravan of wanton flesh for whomever awaited us. Not much was said between us, as it seemed I wasn’t the only one a bit shell-shocked from the previous goings-on.

         If the gates we pulled through as we left the highway were any indication, this was going to be a lavish affair. So, as we passed the line of Ferraris, Bentleys, and Lamborghinis, it was blatantly obvious that my previous assumption was correct. I managed to catch a glimpse of the mansion that lay at the center of the palatial estate before we were driven around the back, where a bevy of service vehicles were parked. A myriad of formally dressed men worked feverishly as we were ushered through what must have been an annex to the kitchen.

         We were a line of women, all naked, save for the satin wrap that slipped like gossamer over our flesh. My head was nearly spinning as we entered a large hall, filled with sharply dressed men and women, all surrounding an open space at the center. There was a strange electricity that tingled on my flesh as we took out places, strangely enough, in a circle around some sort of medallion inlaid into the marble floor.

         The stone was cold against my feet, and then the music. It was eerily familiar, and I was having a real déjà vu moment when a masked figure walked to the middle of the circle we all made. Only then, as he reverently stepped before each of us, untying the wrap, did I know that truth is always stranger than fiction. Standing there, naked, the strange music swirling around in my head, I began to understand. I was nothing more than an ‘objet sexuel’, there to be used in whatever manner my betters saw fit. It was going to be one hell of a night.

Shortly thereafter, I was led away by a stunning woman in a Versace Medusa gown laced with black pearls. Her perfume was intoxicating, and I knew I was expected to do whatever she desired; be… whatever she desired. The evening was only just beginning, but as she slipped her hands up under my hair, moaning as she fingered the naked flesh underneath, I knew I was in trouble. Sex was in the air, it was all around us as I became what she needed me to be.

Thank you, Stanley.

2 responses to “Festival of Desire

    1. Thank you! This idea just sort of sprung out at me, after watching the Stanley Kubrick classic, which happened to be his final film. The rest just happened as I was writing, seeing things from the point of view of the girls, rather than the upper crust that attended the affair. Thanks again for your kind words.
      Claire

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