They monitored activity. The different sized candles. The men who were having their way with other men. I saw a woman fucking a man with a
strap-on dildo. The hanging oil paintings were divine.

Elizabeth! Ferdinand! Was that Chaka Zulu? Oh my! I wanted to go inside. But Your RoyalDickness took me by the arm and pulled me back.

One of the Room Monitors saw me. He smiled,adjusted his mask, and whipped some booty cheeks as he stepped over them and headed my way. He raised a finger.

Come here, bitch

Your Royal Dickness closed the door just as he was reaching for me. I was holding my breath, face to face with the door.

Oh, shit. Spank my ass with that whip Daddy!

Crack.

Crack.

Yes, do it again.

Crack. AGAIN!

Crack. Spank my titties with the whip! Crack! I’m Harriet Tubman! I tried to escape slavery and hid in a pig pen!

Crack! I tried to taste a sugar lump from the sugar bowl!
Crack, crack, crack!

“You can’t break the rules and go in there without a mask on. I should send you home.”

“I just had to see.”
“You can’t let anyone see your face. The Golden Mask protects you. No one is to know your identity, but me and the Facilitator.”

I turned to face him. He was in my face. It turned me on big time.

He said, “Put on this black robe.”

Unhesitant, I put it on. He gave me the once over. The walls in my pussy jumped.

“And your name is?”

He talked like Barry White.

I could barely breathe.

“Freaky Deaky Bitch.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“And the code?”

“To be dicked down froggy style.”

“Open Says Me.” He said with a smile,
perfect white teeth.

“Why thank you, Big Daddy Good Dick.”

“You’re granted the Golden Mask.”