100 Centimetres - Experience 06

Authors Note:

I have had a deep obsession with The Phantom of the Opera ever since my early teenage years. To experience a seductive masquerade ball such as portrayed in the novel, musical and movies, what an arousing story to capture. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I pleasured in writing it. - Ice

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'L' Académie nationale de Musique a le plaisir de vous convier au bal masqué du Nouvel An qu'elle organise le lundi 31 décembre dans la soirée, au Palais-Garnier, place de L'Opera, 75009 Paris.'

The beautiful black and white velvet card fell to the table. The words going around in my head. I couldn't believe what I was reading. Somehow, somehow, you had secured an invitation into the most exclusive event of the year, in the most historical building in Paris. And I was to be your companion. What an absolute honour!

You sent me to one of the finest dressmakers in Paris for my ball gown. One must have the right outfit so as to not disgrace her Master. Known only as Madame, the dressmaker measured, cut and pinned, adding layer after layer of the softest fabric onto my corseted body. Hours upon hours of work until finally, I was allowed to see myself in a room full of mirrors. We had decided that I was going to have a moonlight silver gown. Against my pale complexion, snow white hair and grey eyes, I was to be your little opera ghost, maybe even your Christine for the night.

My view in the mirror was one of disbelief. Who was this girl staring back at me? The gown accentuated my voluptuous breasts. The corset gave me a minuscule waist. The silver gown with its many ribbons, expensive lace and embedded diamonds flared out from my hips and fell to the floor with layers of material trailing behind me. I felt so beautiful. The work on myself had not yet finished. No, my long platinum curls were in a tangle and no jewellery or make up was to be seen. The team of stylists you hired set to work. My hair was combed and placed into a half French braid while the lower half of my hair cascaded in curls across my shoulders and down my back. Light makeup was placed across my face, everywhere but my eyes. My eyes were covered in silver glitter, making the blue in my iris glisten in colour. Beautiful white gold teardrop earrings were placed on my ears, a diamond tiara in my hair and a tight lace ribbon decorated my throat. My hands were covered in silver silk gloves that reached all the way to my elbows.

The effort to have your submissive ready for the masquerade ball seemed to have dissolved the day away. I was hurried into a waiting limousine that was to take me onto the Palais Garnie. A bouquet of the most beautiful white roses were waiting, as was an interesting shaped box. There was a card addressed to me in your handwriting resting on the outside of the box. It read 'pour mon petit fantôme d'opéra'. A smile danced across my face, being called such a name from my Master gave me that enchanting sense of belonging. I removed the lid to find something really quite wonderful, my smile grew even bigger. I had actually forgotten something vital to my outfit. One could not attend a masquerade without a mask. And the one you had chosen for me, it was perfect. The Venetian mask was covered in glitter, the design one of silver and midnight blue swirls. I placed it onto my face, careful not to ruin my makeup or hair.

I guess I was really not prepared as to how spectacular and exclusive this event literally was going to be. There were bright lights everywhere, media photographers littering the streets and a lush red carpet leading to the grand entrance of the opera house. I must admit, I was feeling rather overwhelmed when the limousine pulled up to the entrance and it was my turn to be on display. My concerns were not warranted, I was greeted by you my Master. The perfect gentleman, my music of the night, my phantom. We had not laid eyes on each other since very early that morning. You kissed my gloved hand and presented me with a single white rose. You placed your arm possessively around my corseted waist and whispered into my ear with your sexy Parisian accent 'tu es la plus belle fille du monde mon amour'. The thrill of hearing those words, sent many pleasures across my body and a wetness between my legs. Your guiding hand led me down the red carpet, a sea of bright lights and camera flashes. But it was bearable, because you were there my Master.

You laughed at my face when we were safely inside. In front of my wide blue eyes was the grandest staircase I had ever seen, built from the most stunning array of marble. The glass chandeliers in all their grandeur lit the massive room with soft, delicate but bright light. But I think what I marvelled at the most, was the assembly of costumed people dancing before us. Each dame dressed in a beautiful, intricate and figure showing gown, their face hidden under a unique Venetian mask. The hommes du monde were all dressed in surprisingly, very similar costumes. A black tailcoat, with a white shirt and black bow tie. The only difference, the masks hiding their faces, their identities. I gaze at you, my eyes taking in every detail of your costume, a smile on my face. When my eyes met yours, a blush quickly rushed over my face, you had caught me admiring every inch of your body. Maîtriser, if you could have only known what I was thinking at that very moment, such unladylike thoughts.

You gently grasped my hand, kissing it very seductively and lead me to the dance floor. You bowed and I curtsied as we began our first dance together, a waltz. As the violin started to play, I found myself lost in your eyes. My body was tight up against yours, there was no room between us, your hand on the small of my back. I wanted to passionately kiss you right there and then as we waltzed, even in a crowded room of people. Others around us waltzed and swayed to the music that was filling the night air. It was glorious and simply spectacular.

The music stops and you lead me off the dance floor so that we are able to catch our breath and enjoy some of the sweet Pinot Noir being served. The most surprising event happened next, a gentleman came to ask my hand for the next dance. You ardently gave your consent and I was led away from into a crowd of masked dancers. The dance was an interesting one, a polka. After it began, I could understand why you gave your consent for this dance. With the amount of energy needed in the high steps, it was making my large breasts bounce, even in my corset and gown. I could see you watching me like a hawk from across the dance floor. My every move being observed and admired. I proudly held my head up high and enjoyed every bit of the attention you were giving me. With the orchestra finishing the last musical piece, I am finally given a reprieve. I am once again, claimed by my Master and we stand and watch the other dance. You standing behind me, pushing your obviously excited cock up against my ass.

You murmured in my ear that every man in the room desired me, that they wanted to take his submissive home and have their way with her. But I belonged to you. A ripple of happiness spread across my body. For hours and hours we danced on, long past midnight. The wine was flowing and I was getting lustful at your every touch. The event organisers had made an announcement that the last dance was next and you absolutely insisted that we danced it. It was such a tradition of this country, the cotillion or French country dance. Almost every person in the room had their dance partner and were eager to participate. I was contently happy that you were mine. As the dance begun, you locked eyes with me. I was captured under your spell, placed into hypnosis. We swayed and you twirled me over and over but it didn't feel like we were in a room full of people. No, it felt as though it was just my Master and myself, his submissive. This was our time, our moment and nothing was between us. It's as though you were the only existence in the world. The sound of clapping brought as back to reality as we hadn't even realised the orchestra had stopped playing. You pulled me to you, hungrily claiming my lips, in which I just melted into.

We weren't returning to your home that night. No Maîtriser. You had made a reservation in the finest hotel in Paris, the Hôtel Ritz, in the Opéra Suite, overlooking the historic statues of the Opéra Garnier. A night of lavish and divine class with no expense spared. The room was decorated in the finest French wallpaper, exquisite rugs covered the floor, and the furnishings were first class in elegance. When we were finally along together, you commanded me to stand perfectly still near the curved glass window. In the moonlight, you produced a pair of scissors and started to cut away the layers of my beautiful dress. My body was a blaze with desire. My breathing quickened. I could feel the wetness between my legs. What a teasingly seductive way to undress your submissive.

Layer after layer, material falls to the floor. Your gentle, teasing caresses across my increasingly longing body. Every cut, you bestowed a burning kiss upon your submissives' pale white skin. As though your lips were marking me, branding me, making me yours. I can feel my nipples hardening in my corset as your hot breath is felt on my neck. Soon, I am standing in a tower of material, wearing nothing but my restrictive leather corset and silver lace G string. My breathing had quickened from the moment I saw those scissors. The corset, although beautiful in design, was depriving my head of much needed oxygen. You could see me sway uneasily, I felt very faint and you quickly cut away the ribbon at the back of my leather piece. I thought that once the last part of ribbon was removed, I might finally be able to fill my lungs with rich air. I was wrong as I so often am. No, Master you could tell exactly what I was thinking and you saw my mouth open to take this breath and pulled me in for a deep and passionate French kiss. Your tongue dominating mine, deepening the kiss every second, while your hands made their way to my ass, gripping it tightly.

You finally released me several minutes later, my lips swollen from your kisses, my head feeling like it was a cloud, my body on fire with its desire for you. We still had our Venetian masks on, the eroticism I felt was intense. You asked me to kneel, to lower myself before my Master and to take out your hardened cock and to please it. I sunk eagerly to the floor, my hands undoing the zipper to your very formal costume. My fingers carefully take out your very aroused cock. It is leaking precum, glistening in the moonlight. My tongue gently lapped at the tip, savouring the taste of your arousal. Lightly and teasingly running my wet tongue down the length of your shaft and back up before taking the head fully into my warm wet mouth, my tongue swirling. I hear you take a sharp breath as my tongue swirls around the tip while I stroke your excited member. Glancing up at you with my teasing eyes, you pushed the back of my head up against your cock, forcing it further into my mouth and hitting the back of my throat. I started to suck your powerful cock, my head going back and forth, hungrily and impatiently wanting your load of cum in my mouth. I could hear your breath quicken, the grunting sounds you were making as you thrust in so deeply into my mouth and then... nothing. You were teasing me. Our night was never going to be over so quickly.

You lead me by my blonde hair to the bedroom. Crawling on all fours, you kept spanking my ass, encouraging me to crawl faster to the king size bed that awaited in the suites bedroom. Pulling me up by my hair to stand before you, you once again commanded me to stand still. You then produced from behind your back nipple clamps that were attached by a short silver chain to a studded leather collar. You gently attached the clamps to my tall standing nipples. I moaned in pleasure when I felt their bite on my sensitive flesh. The euphoria you feel when nipple clamps are first applied is utterly unique. It is as if someone takes the smallest part of your body and imprisons it. You no longer own it and it makes your craving for one all the more intense. You secure the collar around my neck and it send a rush of juices from within me, leaking down my thighs, causing that soft blush to appear across my cheeks. Pushing me onto the supersized bed, you are instantly between my legs. Caressing my inner thighs with one hand while the other wanders to my breasts. Soft, feather like touches, teasing me as I had teased you earlier. You lap at my soaked bare pussy with your eager tongue, tasting the desire I have for you. Making me moan Master over and over in a soft and sexy voice. You position yourself above me, kissing each of my captured nipples and then stare directly into my soul, my eyes being the frosted door. Your cock grinding into me, your gyrating movements, teasing my awaiting lips, your precum dripping from your cock, mixing with my arousal juices.

That moment when time stands still, just before your cock impales my waiting pussy that feeling never dies. It is as though you are the sword and I am the scabbard. We are meant to be so close together, so intimate. Your cock slides easily into my well lubricated but tight pussy and the ecstasy I was waiting for surfaced. I moaned in delight, my fingers gripping at the bed cover as you start to move on top of me. There is no room, not even a centimetre between our bodies, we are one. Your chest on top of my breasts, my legs wrapped tightly around you as you move, your eyes gazing deeply into mine. You own my mind, my body is yours my phantom. As you quicken your pace, you bite into the delightful sweet spot just below my left ear. My back arches and I cry out with rapture, my glazed over eyes pleading with you to let me cum. You started ramming my bare pussy as though your cock was a siege engine. If I had any hesitation before, it was no longer there, I never stop a chance. I didn't need to voice my question, you already knew. You whispered in my ear the words that would send me into another universe. Not the permission to cum but rather the order to do so.

Pure ecstasy, contentment and eternal blissfulness. The stars I saw, the dizziness I felt as you grunted and unloaded your seed into the deepest part of me was true sorcery. You softly kissed my neck, my flushed red skin as I came back down to planet earth. Soothing me, protecting me, teaching me. I really can't remember how many times you gave me an orgasm that night but I do remember that it was so very tantalizing and erotic on every level.

So my Maîtriser, you have made your submissives' dream come true tonight. You were her fantôme de l'opéra. Another delicious centimetre in that journey into your bed.