Two Hundred Eyes (Exhibitionism Multiple Partner Menage) (The Erotic Adventures of Heraklea Book 6) Read online

  The man in the red bird mask grunted and put his hands on her head, tilting his face back so she could almost see under the mask, but then he firmly guided her mouth onto the tip of his cock. His hands on her head were like iron. Klea swirled her tongue around the tip of his dick and then his hands guided her head down the shaft, hitting the back of her throat and pulling back. She used her spit to lubricate it, pumping her hands down it once before he pushed her mouth back onto it, this time pushing harder at the back of her throat. The men in the audience got louder and louder, cheering on the blowjob, the noise swelling every time she took the cock in her mouth. She couldn’t turn her head to see them, but from the corner of her eye, she knew that even more of them were masturbating, their long hard cocks out in the open, hands stroking up and down.

  Klea closed her eyes and, on the next stroke, opened her throat, letting the masked man’s cock all the way in. He grunted loudly and pushed her head against his body, her lips nearly touching his balls, her nose in his public hair, and then he growled. Klea’s eyes began to water as she held her breath. The crowd got louder, shouting encouragement, and then the man’s hand released her head and she slid the cock all the way back out and back in, bobbing her head up and down on it.

  As she did, she reached one hand down to her pussy, feeling the charge there, getting wetter and wetter with every stroke of her head on the dick. The men in the audience hooted at her.

  “Touch your tits!” one of them shouted. “Put your pussy juice on your tits!”

  Klea pulled the cock out of her mouth and plunged three fingers into her pussy, hips bucking involuntarily as she did, then spread the sticky fluids on her left breast as she took the cock back into her mouth, all the way in, then all the way back out. Someone in the crowd groaned loudly and then the hands were back on her head, in her hair, using it to pull her off, turning her and displaying her for the crowd, one sticky hand on her breast, one still at the base of his cock.

  “Make me come on your tits,” he said, not letting go of her hair. Still facing the audience, she pumped her right hand along the shaft once, twice, and he was closer than even she had thought because he threw his head back and came in thick, ropy white strands that splattered across her chest and stomach.

  “Rub it in!” someone shouted, and so with both hands she gathered the translucent fluid off her skin and rubbed it all around her torso, circling her nipples with her fingers, thrusting her hips forward back. One hand made its way back down to her clit, the other still on her breasts, and she rubbed in circles as the crowd shouted her on. She spread her knees further apart, still kneeling on the stone floor, and leaned back on her other hand to give the audience a better view, her cunt feeling the heat of all those eyes on it, all those men jerking off to the sight of her pussy. It felt so strange to be masturbating alone on a stage, but at the same time, so freeing to show off for a crowd like this.

  She came hard, front still sticky with the masked man’s fluid, hips pumping up and down as she rubbed herself fast and hard, the men in the audience shouting as she collapsed backward, her knees bruised from the hard floor, but behind her was another man who grabbed her under the arm and helped her stand up. He wore the brown bird mask and nothing else, and he stood behind her, his erection against her ass, rolling her nipples in his fingers, letting his hands drift up and down her body. He put one hand between her legs, cupping her pussy in his palm, and then lifted up that leg, tilting her to one side, opening her up for the crowd to get a good look at.

  “Should I fuck her?” he asked them.

  They shouted yes.

  “Like this?” he asked, rubbing the length of his cock against her pussy, the head nudging against her clit. Klea moaned and reached for her clit, only to have her hand held away by the brown-masked man.

  “I don’t think so,” he said, still rubbing himself against her wet, waiting cunt, rubbing her swollen clit with the head of it. “I want you to beg.”

  “Beg!” shouted the crowd.

  Klea could feel her pussy practically gushing, throbbing for that cock. It was almost cruel, she thought, for it to be so close.

  “Fuck me,” she said.

  He pushed the head against her lips, then slid it back out. Klea moaned, the sound turning to a disappointed whisper. “You can do better than that.”

  “Please fuck me,” she said, not a woman used to begging for it.

  “How?”

  “Fuck me hard,” she said. “Fuck me with your big, beautiful cock. Please fuck me.”

  He slid the head in again, pushed a little further, and slid it back again. Klea nearly screamed in frustration.

  “I think you should beg me on your knees,” he said, and pushed her down to a kneel.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Klea took his cock in her hands and slid her mouth over the head, tasting her own juices, and then pushed it down her throat until she felt his balls on her chin and his public hair tickled her nose, then pulled it back out, the thick member coated now in her saliva and pussy juice. God, she thought, this would feel so good in my cunt. Her cunt throbbed in response, feeling swollen and hot between her legs.

  Finally, when she thought he was about to come, the man grabbed her hair and pulled her back. “Stand up and bend over,” he said. “Show them that nice pussy.” A groan went through the crowd, and as she stood and bent, Klea could see that nearly every man had his tunic up around his hips, erect members all out. She spread her legs, ass facing the crowd, and put her hands on the floor, arching her back and displaying her cunt to them all. A ripple of appreciation went through them. Then she felt a hand on her lower back, and a moment later, a hard sting on her ass. She gasped and wobbled, off balance for a moment, but heard the crowd approve.

  “Spank her again!” someone shouted. Right away there was another sting on her other ass cheek, the first one still on fire. It felt as though the very edge of his hand had grazed her swollen, ready pussy, sending sparks flying through her body. Upside down, she bit her lip and whimpered. A third slap landed, again on a new spot, again edging on her cunt. Without realizing it she lifted a hand to her clit, began rubbing it, the sensation of being spanked and wanting so badly to be fucked getting the better of her.

  The man in the brown feather mask laughed. “I think she’s ready now,” he said, and took both her hips in his hands. He plowed into her, his entire cock all at once, so hard that Klea nearly lost her balance. It sent an intense wave of pleasure through her like an electric current, reaching all the way to her fingertips and and toes, and she moaned out loud.

  “You like that?” the man asked, half to her, half to the audience.

  “Oh, yes,” she groaned. “Oh, fuck her harder.”

  He complied, pulling out and burying his cock so deep with his next thrust that Klea saw stars. It was all she could do to keep from losing her balance, legs spread wide, hands on the floor, cock slamming into her pussy making her almost delirious. She came without even realizing the orgasm was near, in front of a hundred men, the only sounds the wet slap of their fucking, her moans, and the slick sounds of masturbation in the audience.

  “Keep going,” she gasped when she finished, finally able to hold her head up.

  “You’re an easy one,” the man said. “God, your pussy feels good.”

  Klea smiled and pushed back into him, trying to get him deeper and deeper. When she lifted her head she realized another man was standing a few feet in front of her, the man in the blue mask. The man in the black mask sat on the wooden chair she had started on, watching.

  Without missing a beat, the man fucking her from behind grabbed her elbows and held them above her back, lifting her torso up and putting her head exactly at the other man’s erection. The man in the blue mask took a step forward, took her head gently in his hands, and pushed his cock all the way into her mouth. He held it there, all the way in, for a moment before pulling out, using slow, steady, almost gentle strokes, totally different from the way the man in the br
own mask was furiously pounding her pussy, the feeling exquisite and electric, grunting and moaning.

  “I’m gonna come,” he announced to everyone. Klea groaned onto the other man’s cock, halfway down her throat, and he moaned in pleasure. Then she felt the first man pull out, and a moment later, his hot, sticky cum landed on her back, and one final slap landed on her ass. The crowd shouted, and Klea saw a few jets of white spurt up, and she saw more men groan and cover their cocks with their tunic, emptying themselves into the fabric.

  The man in the blue mask pulled his cock out of her mouth, put his hand on her chin, and stood her up. His eyes looked black behind his mask and he searched hers for a moment before looking down at her body, sticky and covered in fluid. The crowd went completely silent.

  “Do you like to be fucked in the ass?” he asked.

  The crowd went wild. Klea could only nod, suddenly feeling her heartbeat in the bud of her asshole, nervous about fitting his whole member into it. Then she remembered the centaurs, how she took a whole centaur cock up the ass, and how it hadn’t hurt at all but felt incredible instead, felt so good she almost hadn’t been able to move. The man smiled and turned her around and she willingly bent over, offering up her hole, a little afraid he’d plunge straight in like the other man had.

  He was a gentleman, though; he went slowly, first pushing the head in gently, pushing in and out, little by little, the sensitive nerves in Klea’s ass tingling and lighting up with pleasure as he went deeper and deeper, until he stopped. Still wanting more, she pushed back against him, only to feel her ass cheeks against his hips, his entire shaft buried in his ass. She moaned.

  “She wants more,” he said to the audience, and pulled his cock out, then plunged it back in.

  “Oh god,” said Klea, upside down again, both hands on the floor, legs wide.

  “You like it in the ass,” he said.

  “I love it in the ass,” she said. “Harder.”

  He grasped her by the hips and plunged in and out again and again, his cock feeling as though it filled every space inside her. She reached one hand up to her clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts, feeling the intensity and the pressure build. She looked over at the audience where all the men were masturbating furiously, fists closed hard around their shafts, pounding up and down, all eyes on her, and with that, she began to orgasm again.

  “Fuck me!” she shouted. “Fuck me and don’t stop.” She could feel her sphincter spasm as she orgasmed, together in time with her pussy and she pushed herself back onto his cock frantically as she did, trying to get every millimeter of him inside her as she came, feeling him harden even more and then gush into her, his hands like iron on her hips, locking her onto him. They stayed that way until they each finished, and then he pulled out and left the stage unceremoniously, cum dribbling out of her ass and down her leg.

  When the man in the blue mask left her there, she wasn’t quite sure what to do. No one else came forward to grab her. Was she done now, just like that? Then she saw something move, and realized: the man in the black mask was still sitting in the chair, center stage. He’d been perfectly still this entire time, and only now had begun to stroke his long, hard member, watching her, only his eyes and hand giving any sign that he was alive.

  The audience, sticky and surely tired by now, still somehow had the energy to shout at her.

  “One last fuck!” someone shouted from the back, and though at least half of them looked spent, there were still a number of dicks out, a number of hands stroking them off.

  “One last fuck!” someone else echoed him, a stocky, bald man seated near the center, his tunic still hiked over his now-flaccid cock

  The rest of the crowd took up the chant. “One last fuck!” they shouted disparately, then together. “One last fuck!”

  Klea looked over at the man in the chair. He still hadn’t moved besides his hand, stroking up and down, up and down. His fingers barely met around the thing, and he just stared at her without saying anything, almost as if daring her to come over there and just try it.

  Klea walked over. The crowd cheered. “Show us your pussy again!” someone shouted, so she stood in front of the man, put her hands on his knees, and bent over, spreading her lips open with one hand, making sure the audience got a full view. The last man’s cum still dripped down from her asshole, over her pussy and onto the stone floor where it glistened in the torchlight. She rotated her hips around, showing off to everyone in the crowd, listening to the grunts and moans, soaking in the pleasure of being watched. She pulled her head up and looked the man in the eye, the only part of his face she could really see.

  He stopped stroking his cock and placed both his hands on his thighs as if waiting.

  Klea turned around, facing the audience again, and straddled the black-masked man, her pussy poised above his cock. He didn’t move, but as the men in the crowd watched, she caressed herself, cupping her breasts in both hands, caressing her stomach, bending over toward them and putting one hand in her pussy, still wet from before and still pulsing in anticipation. She straightened up and sucked those fingers, tasting her own salty juices and the potent taste of the last man she’d fucked. Slowly, she sank over the cock below her until the head just parted her lips, and then she pulled back, watching the crowd. Two hundred pairs of eyes drank in her every move, most with their cocks in their hands. Even the ones who’d already finished and gone soft were playing with themselves, watching her.

  She sank over the cock again, teasing the head one more time with her pussy, and then in one smooth move, she sat down onto his lap, engulfing the whole cock in one stroke. The animal noises in the audience got louder and she could feel the desire coming off of them almost in waves. The final man’s cock was exquisite. Her pussy felt like it was glowing, and she slid herself up and down on it slowly, savoring every moment, every inch of it as it came in and out, filling her and pressing the pleasure buttons deep inside.

  The man’s hands were on her hips, squeezing gently, not hard enough to bruise her but insistent. The men of the audience watched her, every one with eyes full of lust, tugging at their own cocks. Klea reached up to touch her breasts, arching her back to show herself of, pinching and rolling her nipples, pushing them together, all so they could see. The heat in her pussy grew and grew as she rode the cock harder and harder, faster, moaning out loud. Something for the audience to hear.

  Finally her orgasm burst over her, the intense glow reaching out, rendering her breathless for a moment, unable to do anything but rock her hips back and forth, cock buried in her cunt, wait for the force of the orgasm to release her. Breathless, when it was over she felt him come, his strong hands holding her down against him, his cock spasming in her cunt.

  Finally exhausted, she leaned back against his broad chest. The man in the black bird mask still hadn’t said a word to her, but still had her hips in her hands and his now-softening cock in her cunt. She watched the audience, satisfied, get up and leave, disappearing into the night beyond the torches.

  Klea stood, at least, the final man’s cum slinking down her leg as she did. She thought of her tunic: sliced open, ruined, absolutely nothing done about the birds. Ferocious, bronze-taloned man-eaters, yes. She felt chewed up and swallowed, but in a good way. At the edge of the stage she saw the masked men huddled together, talking.

  “Listen,” she said. “I was supposed to come get rid of you.”

  The man in the red mask cocked his head to one side in a very bird-like movement.

  “I realize I don’t have any bargaining power right now,” she said. “But do you think you could move on for a while?”

  “We’ve built quite the following,” the red-masked man said. “As you saw.”

  Klea crossed her arms in front of her torso, still naked. Someone’s semen was making its way past her knee. “You just got a great show,” she said. “Just for a while, to get the king off my ass about it.”

  “I thought you liked things on your ass,” said the man
in the blue mask, a smile playing at his lips.

  Klea rolled her eyes and didn’t answer. The masked men looked at each other.

  “All right,” said the one in red. “Just for a while,” though.

  “That’s all I’m asking,” Klea said.

  She washed herself off in the lake and got a few hours of sleep back at the house she’d been staying in, where no one asked her any questions. The next morning, she calmly told them that the birds were taken care of, ate breakfast with the family, and set off for the king’s palace, nodding off sometimes in the saddle. When she got there it was only mid-afternoon, but she went straight to her room anyway, still needing sleep.

  When she opened the door, the king was sitting there, by a roaring fire, all alone in his full regalia. No guards.

  “Take a seat,” he said. Klea, tired and in a borrowed tunic that didn’t really fit her, sat opposite him.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “Useful as you are, we can’t keep you here indefinitely. I’ll have to let you go sometime.”

  Klea raised her eyebrows and said nothing.

  “Twelve,” he said. “You’ll do twelve tasks, and then I’ll release you back to your husband. I think that’s fair.”

  Her husband. Klea hadn’t thought about Lykos in weeks, even though he’d been in a coma the last time she’d seen him. Her doing. All her worries, all her fears about her future as a housewife and mother resurfaced. Now, after all this monster-fucking, she knew more than ever that she didn’t want to go back and pretend to enjoy his company and bear his children.