The Lady of the Masquerade

I give to you the reader, a verse, a prose of Marquis De Sade; Written from a follower of his movements. This is the sadistic yet well written verse of Diane, the Lady of Masquerade. I expect that you fully know what exactly you are getting into with each word you read of these pages. I promise you they are indeed vulgar and terminally deemed a step into that Libertine Movement. If you find yourself repulsed by such a tale, then I ask you not to read on, though if you find yourself hot for such a tale then by all means, I do not plan upon stopping you from doing so. Enjoy, for this is a tale of such Sadism and Masochism.

Diane, The Lady of the Masquerade.
By -A.S.U

The air was so crisp that it would make a woman's nipples rather hard; maybe even so to cut the very fabric that bound the breast. Lady Diane sat within her garden, she watched the young men had at work with preparing her garden for the Masquerade Ball she had planned upon having. She was attired in lounging wear of a simple corset and skirt that ran the leg of her legs. A silken material just as divine as the wet silk that lay between a woman's legs. Her beautiful Venus had brought her to be sought after by many men great and lame, yet it had never been deflowered by the slick prick of man. She watched the men, a fan brushed air over a heated bosom. Her eyes watched them work as they lifted, pushed, and pulled. Oh, how it made her ache to think of them handling her in the same manner. She was a lady losing her composure amongst the working men of the garden. Yet, she was well in her twenties, untouched and called a prude for doing so. Not once has she ever laid with man, and nor has she every been brought under the seduction of a hard prick and a good fucking. That fan swing back and forth over her bosom, fanning the hot sweat beads that strolled along in dancing water. Oh, she just had to have a good lay tonight or she would simply burst with virginal envy.

Her mind wandered with the thought of the strongest man walking from the courtyard, taking her by the hair into a secluded room of the manor. Her mind ran array with the thoughts of him chaining her to the bed, breaking her into that sweet abyss of proverbial heaven. She could see him taking the fleshy pink muscle of his mouth, dragging it over the swollen mound betwixt her thighs; there he would nip and bite, drawing her into those masochistic fillings. He would be deemed to draw her blood for his pleasure, allowing her flesh to become pierced for every moment the Man's prick was harden and throbbing with envious want. She would sigh for him, this masked creature that tormented her body in every possible. Slowly did he work his way up, rough hands coursing to pull taut chains just to hear her bones dislodge. Oh, how she would sigh with great want, the pain was something so divine to her. She would not shed a tear, only simple moans for more from him. She called for his touch, this master of the pleasure.He'd kneel betwixt her thighs, his britches held a tent that housed the pink snake writhed in want of a warm and moist hole. She would look to this Master, begging set aglow within her eyes. She wanted his sodomy in her mouth, she would be found wanting him in every orifice possible. Diane gave a moaning sigh ever so loud when nails raked over her flesh. The leather strips that passed upon her flesh was divine.

This man of a dominating factor towered over her, he was her God in these passing moments. Was this all just a daydream she held the fantasy for? She brought herself back to reality,that fan working ever harder to keep her cooled and bothered by vulgar thoughts. He would have her upon her knees with a mouthful of throbbing prick, and she would take it orally in her pallet. This vivid daydream was soon interrupted by the chambermaids calling her name for the afternoon tea. Oh, she should need this distraction before her skirts became moist with her sudden nectar of dreams that she wished could become that reality. She rose from the lounge, only to give subtle and sultry sway of her hips. Taking her seat upon the tea table, she spoke not a word- yet allowed her mind to wander over those vivid day dreams yet again. This time, he held her upon the bed like a bitch in heat. She wavered in sweated exstacy, hands of a rough nature drug over her body. She called for more touch of the painted pain. Shoulders were in a hold of dislodge within the chains, He held her in the positions she needed to be within. Leather passed on welts, a scalpel carved the words of obscenities upon her tanned flesh. She could not help but drip with the raining pleasure he provided. Oh, how she wanted that man to come to her, and take her in the worst way possible. With the throbbing prick and hand of sultry pain.

She gave the softest of moans, her thoughts were just so vivid in nature. The chambermaids could not help but giggle, their mistress was fantasizing about crude and lude things again. She laid back within her chair, the image of the Male taking her like a bitch in heat stapled into her head. That male strode into the forbidden hole of her ass, thrusting his harden prick deep into her entrails. Deep strides of his hips buried himself deeper into that darkened cavern of her backside. Diane was at his mercy, at the mercy of several sighed moaned in the feel of his slender snake taking refuge in her. This man wore a mask of white, his face hidden from her, all the more mystery in her divine pleasure. His hands were strong against her flesh, bruising delicate petals of the unbudding flower. She faded between day dream and reality, she was moist to the touch. Such thoughts brought that little beast to the surface, A whine of begging want escaped the dame. She watched the Men work to prepare her garden, lip drawn upon the bite of her lower flesh piece. She craved the feel of man taking the virgin's flower. Yet, there in her daydream, she was becoming sodomized and fucked with the force of a strong man. Upon all four like a dog, she took every bit of his harsh thrusts into that forbidden hole, even though he pulled from of her taut ass, she begged for him in more ways than one. She gave the male view of her Venus mound, a purr fell from her throat. All he could do was flip her and tighten chains to keep limbs dislodged in his final please.

Diane was a regal woman, a dame of virgin grounds- Never has she felt the prick of man or the tongue of woman. Yet the thought of woman's tongue upon her sweet cunny only brought more vivid thought to that mind of hers. She gave though to a masked woman joining her upon the bed, smothering her mouth with the sweet cunny- forcing Diane to eat the nectar she intended to reap. The Masked Man ravaging her body could only be tied as Sadistic, she was bruised and bleeding under his uncaring force, but it made her so hot to his touch. She writhed under the whip of leather to her inner thighs, to her stomach. She was but a mere pawn for their pleasure now. The harder the stripping of leather fell, the strong her urge to moan loudly into the woman's sweet flavored cunny. The Masked Man throbbing prick so found entrance to her inner flower, thrust deep with no remorse, He ravaged that budding flower. He pumped into a building pressure, his mouth as work upon the shoulder of the woman riding her face. Diane gave soft sigh into that sweet heat, hips rose into the Masked males. She broke from the vivid day dream, only to find her self soaked in sweet nectar, oh how she needed to be brought through the sexual hell and back, for she was about to explode if no action where soon taken upon her. She could only hope that tonight she would gain such a suitor to place the firm hand upon her, to ravage that lusting beast clawing it's way to the surface. She was left to sip upon her tea, however she would have to get ready for the night events.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

The night came all to quickly, Diane was dress for the grand Masquerade she were hosting in hopes of a suitable suitor to find her most pleasing with the proposal of a possible marriage down on the line. She was dressed within the skirts of a fluttering black material made of silk, her corset was whale bone and cotton fabric. Her facade was masked by the Victorian white mask that cover the whole of her face, Diane walked in sultry grace. She was that beautiful butterfly caught in the snare of lust. She walked down the winding path towards her gardens, where that Masquerade was to take place, her sights wandering over such a lovely place filled with guests. She greeted quite a few, mingling for a few hours before a strange man cam to greet the party a few hours late, he held a build that caught her eye. Would he be the one to fulfill her desiring wishes? She made haste towards him, a soft smile and a hidden blush had filled her to the brim. He only grasped her wrist and pulled her off towards the house, as if he had great urgency to relay some odd message to her. She could only fell that rush of mystery and heated moments in hopeful pleasure. Would he be the one to rip her virginal flower from it's roots so deep. She could not help but whimper between worry and want, he drove that masochistic side out of her. Why, oh why must she be like so? So submissive to any male in her presence?

Within those reaches of the house, the masks remained placed upon their faces- Diane could not help but take her lower flesh betwixt her teeth with a deep sigh. He released her wrist, his back turned to her with self righteous glory. She could imagine him the master to pull her to his every whim, in silent beg of his touch- of him torturing her in sensual pleasure. She could not ask for more. He only brought himself to turn to her, their bodies radiant in obvious frustration of one another in the means of sensual touch. He brought his hand to her chin, a forceful touch of the beginning, he commanded her attention now. He touched her, she did writhe- He brought rough snares upon her lips, near to the point of pierced flesh. She had only sighed with such a touch, she claimed more with him.There white masks soon found the floor, he danced about her in a circle. He inspected her, she followed in that fine want of submission. He brought himself up behind her, his hands upon her shoulders with the Master's touch. Oh, she writhed in that sensual touch. His bruises were her orgasm. He had taunted her, teased her into the moist heat of the moment. The sounds of shredding clothe never did leave the foyer of the home, she only held a strip to keep her front in veiled mystery. He commanded her down upon her knee and hands, like the bitch in feigned heat. His boot heel upon her back, he staked claim to break her into the moans of a good fuck.

She pressed her chest into the granite floor, sensual sway she flaunted herself to him. He only brought himself to kick in her sides, the sole of his boot leaving sizable bruising to the tender flesh of her sides. She could only allow herself to become moist under his demeaning touch. She laid in a writhe feline heat, exploring the leather of his boot through caresses of her lips. Her hair was pulled from her skull as he lifted her by force, and tossed her upon the tables. She lay upon her stomach, she called for the feel of his throbbing prick, he called for the hurt of her orgasm. He simply abused her to his every steaming whim. She could not help be slither, gasp, and curl to his sacrificing touches, The fee lof the sole of his boot to the dominating factor he held upon her. She were a Dame of pain and pleasure, this man knew this were their perversions.