The Death Ball

-

The Death Ball was the yearly underground debutant event for all who lived in New Orleans during the holiday season. The secret masquerade was held each year during New Year’s eve without fail and it was only through sheer luck that an invitation for such a hedonistic and splendor filled event would land in one’s lap.

That was the exact luck that the Duchess Antoinette of Austria fell into one cool November morning when she opened her university mail box to see a thick black envelope with her birth name printed upon it. Now the duchess wasn’t actually a duchess, her name started with an F, and she had never stepped foot outside of the South let alone the United States. However, her new name and title became her identity, for that was what she would forever be referred to by all those who frequented the party.

Her pale skin flushed with delight, her vermilion face clashing with her equally vermilion hair. The Duchess quickly hid her parcel, closing her box and rushing from her mailroom for the safety of her dorm room in order to read the missive.

In her room upon her bed she opened the parcel with childlike glee, her hands anxiously fumbling with the delicate cardstock. Her blue eyes quickly grazed over the information, committing the days and time to memory. It was only when she was about to dispose of her missive that her palms were poked by the blunt edges of a small thin card.

The words ‘Plus Two’ blazed across the little cream card with two thin lines for her to scribble the names of her guests down. She was about to toss it away where her eyes caught site of the small lettering on the bottom of the card which demanded she bring two guests or be banned from the festivities. Antoinette bit her bottom lip, her mind racking over the girls she could bring whose beauty could match her without surpassing her and whose intellect she could piggyback off of.

It was by another stroke of luck that she spotted the Grand Duchess Carolina of Valois and the Grand Duchess Margaret of Burgundy. The Grand Duchesses both held darker complexions and while Antoinette wasn’t a racist, she knew that she would surely pop and sparkle against the two dark divas. Margaret and Carolina were pretty in their own ways: both were a creamy chocolate hue and had dark, thick hair. Where Margaret was svelte, Carolina was voluptuous and where Carolina could hold an intelligent conversation over mundane topics, Margaret could add witty quips into any conversation, never failing in gaining laughs.

They were perfect and it was in those moments after she saw the duo that she approached them with an offer that would change their lives forever.

-

December had finally approached and the Duchesses were all quite excited about their impending attendance to the infamous Death Ball. For Antoinette the feeling was bitter sweet for while she finally convinced Margaret and Carolina that their lives weren’t in any danger nor would they be going to a heavy metal concert if they attended the Ball, they were given the title Grand Duchess while she was just a mere Duchess.

It irked her that the two black women were ranked higher than her, but it was far too late to do anything and Antoinette was sure she could still spin the situation into her favor. Through the first few weeks of December they each took their turns going to their dress and mask fittings, each appointment set up by the organization behind the event, and each at a different location.

When the third week arrived each girl had her mask and her dress, their anxiousness rising even more. Antoinette couldn’t wait to shine and be the belle of the ball. Margaret couldn’t wait for all the mischievous fun she could have. Carolina couldn’t help but feel that something wasn’t right.

-

“Alright Ladies, pay attention for these instructions will only be said once.” a shrill voice called throughout the North hall of a large rural mansion were all twenty-five of the invited ladies were sequestered until the ball began. All of the young ladies attention turned to their elderly attendant. Her face was pale and caked with a bright pink blush upon her cheeks; long grey ringlets framed her face in a partial up do. Her dress was one fit for a queen, like something straight out of the movie Marie Antoinette; her cream floral bodice tucked her waist in and her matching skirt blossomed about her, making her appear much bigger. Her jewels were simple, a small choker enclosed her neck and an heirloom diamond was placed on her ring finger.

She was a stern old thing who commanded attention, which is what she received from the three fledgling Duchesses.

“You are to remember the ground rules: at no time will you discuss your real name, your life, or your contact information; the persona you were given is the one you will be addressed as and referred to for the remainder of your evening as well as for any subsequent visits. You are to remember your manners, no lady should be in intimate company with a male without a chaperone; your chaperones know who you are and will introduce themselves to you upon the official coronation of the Death King. Remember you are ladies not harlots; no hanky panky.”

All the girls in the hall chuckled, and Carolina grabbed a chuckling Margaret’s hand, her mischievous eyes already lighting with the thought of a challenge.

“And lastly, there is the Dansa Macabre where the Death King will choose his consort, they will share a dance and retire to the Kings chamber. There will be two more dances and then the ball will end promptly one minute after midnight. After you have departed, you must never speak of the ball to outsiders. Upon the next year some of you may be asked to return others might not. Be mindful of your actions ladies and be careful.” Dark emerald eyes glanced over the girls, pausing at three nubile beauties standing closely together. It was their latent innocence that caused a hard and knowing smirk to grace her thin lips.

“Not everything is as its seems.” With those ominous words, the elderly lady turned around, opening two magnificent doors leading the girls to the ballroom. Carolina, Margaret and Antoinette fell into step with one another, walking to the ballroom in silence.

Margaret the tallest of the three stood in the middle dressed in an elegant gold and black baroque pattern dress, her black volto masque covering her much of her face leaving only her dark brown eyes and plump berry colored lips exposed, her hair in a highly teased up do. Antoinette walked beside her on the sinister position, her loosely curled auburn hair falling down the bare shoulders of her pale pink lacy dress. She too wore a volto masque, however her mask was a peach tone which left her redden lips and cheeks exposed for all to see. Carolina took to her Dexter, her full figure fitting perfectly into her cream dress. Her arm pit length hair curled wildly about her gold volto masque showcasing her doe eyes and her pink pout.

The other girls stole glances at the newcomers, some whispering behind their hands and fans as they walked.

Margaret scowled.

“Children.” She hissed lowly, glaring when one of the other ladies looked at them for two long. Carolina sighed, grabbing Margaret’s arm.

“They have never seen black Duchesses before; it’s perfectly natural for them to be curious about the women of Valois and Burgundy.” She whispered, her melodious voice soft as a group of girls passed them.

“Well they shouldn’t stare so hard, it’s unbecoming.” Margaret sneered, her husky voice low as well.

“And sneering isn’t unbecoming?” Antoinette tutted with her airy voice, her eyes glanced at all the other girls periodically through their walk.

“Not for this Grand Duchess it isn’t, I set the trends for all of my successors to follow. May they be wild and merry and ever so mischievous; for mischief is a man past time and a woman’s day job.” Margaret replied brazenly as they finally reached the doors to the ballroom.

Their guide turn to them once more to wish them luck before the doors were thrown open and they entered into what could only be classified as a dream.

-

The Ballroom was luxurious and spoke to a certain whimsy and elegance that couldn’t be expressed in words. The décor was a mix between the happiness of a winter wonderland and the macabre of a cemetery. Barren trees and vines circled the room closing it in a dark earthy tomb. Black metal gates held white candles of various size and little white lights hung around the trees offering some light. The rest came from the dimmed chandeliers which filled the room. At the back of the ballroom upon an ice and bark platform sat the silver throne of the Death King.

When the ladies entered the space, twenty virile young men awaited them, each young man watching as each lady was introduced, every young man taking note of his favorites as they crossed the threshold. After the ladies had been introduced and placed in the hall, the female attendant made her way to the platform where the male attendant waited for her.

Once she reached him, he held out his arm for her which she took. Together they looked over the crowd and in unison they stated: “And now we introduce to you the Death King.”

-

The Death King appeared from thin air it would seem, his black Bauta mask obstructing most of his visage from the crowd. He was dressed sharply in a silk black shirt with matching black pants and jacket. He wore a curly grey ponytail wig with a black captain’s hat over it. A large signet marking him as the head of the house of death was the only thing that distinguished him as the Death King.

He was greeted with silence which amused him greatly. Taking a seat in his throne, his stormy grey eyes glanced over the room. When his eyes found what he was looking for he relaxed his position, slouching in his seat, masking his true power.

He clapped his hands twice and the dulcet sounds of Vivaldi began to filter through the room. The chatter rose as the Death Ball started under the watchful eyes of the king.

-

Within minutes of the Death King taking his seat at his throne, the ball began. Young girls laughed and cried gayly, as young men chased them around. Some danced, some flirted, others gossiped. But they all glowed under the dim lights and attention, the whimsical classical music transporting them to another time and place, to a life far different than the ones they lived.

The three young Duchesses reveled in the atmosphere. Many suitors made their way to the three, kissing their delicate hands gently, causing Antoinette and Carolina to blush delicately and Margaret to flirt incessantly. And before things could get improper, their chaperone, Lady Pierce would step in, the sweet and plump older woman shooing the gentlemen. Carolina chuckled at her antics while Margaret and Antoinette scowled.

They quickly became fodder for gossip, passing young ladies spilling bits and pieces of their conversation amongst themselves, jealousy and envy coloring their cheeks. It was the sneering look that a few passing women gave the three which caused the Grand Duchess of Valois to speak up to her chaperone.

“Lady Pierce, why do they scowl and sneer at us so?” she asked softly, her brown eyes curious.

Before the elder woman to answer Margaret cut in.

“Because dear Carolina, they are jealous. Green with envy for we are the belle’s of the ball!” she exclaimed drunkenly, the excitement and attention effecting her like alcohol. 

Lady Pierce shushed the young woman, causing a small pout to form on her face. Satisfied with the result, she turned her attention back to Carolina.

“My dear, there are very few of the Duchy represented at these balls; you three are all Duchesses, which is rare for generally a Duchess is accompanied by a countess, a baroness, a viscountess, or a marchioness. Since there are no princesses, those of the Duchy are the first to be considered by the Death King, and they are generally the only ones who will be granted an audience with the King. Grand Duchess Margaret is only half right; there are those who will be jealous of you because of your title and rank, and then there are those who are jealous because one of you might be the queen and consort.” She said serenely her expressive brown eyes putting Carolina at ease.

The lady smiled as she saw the young woman relax, reaching her hand out to pat one soft brown cheek.

“Don’t fret little one, just enjoy your night. Don’t let the Grand Duchess Margaret have all the fun.” She chuckled causing the aforementioned girl to rejoin the conversation.

“Oh Piercey how many times must I tell you it is simply Margaret.” She teases lightly her eyes narrowing at the elder woman.

Lady Pierce laughed her off, swatting at her with her hands.

“Oh hush you devil child; save your sharp tongue and wit for all of these young eager bucks running about.” She teased back, causing Margaret to stick out her tongue.

“You are no fun, Pierce.” She moped before grabbing Carolina’s arm and tugging her towards Antoinette. Once she reached the other duchess, Margaret grabbed her hand as well leading both to the fringe of the dance floor.

“And now we dance.” She whispered conspiratorially, waving three young men over to her.

-

The Death King watched as the three new members of his Duchy danced with his Earls and Counts. They were quite enticing and in some ways a much needed breathe of fresh air.  He knew his spies had chosen well when he received their names and pictures. He gathered as much information as possible on each of them, trying to fit them as best as he could in his Kingdom.

Young Antoinette was the one who gained the original invitation due to the Arch Duke of Austria’s obsessive interest in her. The young man all but begged for the redhead beauty to join their festivities, and as the king saw her, delicate and feminine, coy yet demure and everything a young woman should be, he knew his man made the right choice.

Young Margaret was a feisty and like many a duchess before her, she craved to break from convention. Her passion and wit was exciting, giving her the ability to cause any man’s loins to heat with the prospect of taming such a young and wild duchess. Her dark skin added to her illusion of burning unmarked territory which caused many a man in his high council to be aroused by the thought of gaining the Grand Duchess of Burgundy if only for one night.

And young Carolina.

She was the sweet and fair one, a mix between the strength of Margaret and the delicateness of Antoinette. She was a mystery that the King wished he could figure out. Her dark skin added to her allure and her curves excited him more than he cared to admit. She was made for long and boorish conversations on vaguely intelligent conversations as well as for hot and passionate nights.

The three were so sexual in ways that only a hedonist like the Death King could understand, yet they were so innocent, following all of the rules they were given, even following some that were not spoken.

He cocked his wrist to the side calling forth his two advisors.

“Isabella, I need you to tell the Duchy of Valois, Burgundy and Austria, that I wish for them to make my acquaintance within the hour.” He commanded in a deep authoritative baritone. Isabella, the woman’s attendant, nodded her head rushing over to relay the news to the chaperone of the duchesses.

Once the first advisor left, the Death king turned his attention to his remaining envoy.

“Bring Otto and Charles to me.” The male attendant nodded rushing to find the young men.

“It is time that we meet our Princesses” The Death king whispered to know one in particular, his eyes watching the three duchess laugh and dance without a care in the world.

-

When Isabella had finished telling Lady Pierce the king’s message, the elderly chaperone went into hyper drive, grabbing her charges from the dance floor and taking them to a more secluded area to tell them the news.

“The king has requested council with you. Within the hour, I will lead you to his majesty’s throne at which time he will ask questions about you and make general small talk. This is your only chance and opportunity to speak to the king, so use it well. Remember to curtsy once you have entered his realm and to be ladylike; don’t speak out of turn, don’t go overboard with the flirting and Margaret, watch that sharp tongue of yours.” She paused to let that sink in before she continued.

“I will leave you to prepare and when I return it will be to lead you to the king.” Lady Pierce was all about her business, a fact that Margaret couldn’t help but respect. When the older woman left, the nervousness between the three girls was almost palatable.

“Ok you guys,” Margaret whispered breaking out of character for the first time that night. “We got this, we just gotta relax. Ginger spice will do fine as always.” She said with a giggle poking Antoinette in the side, causing the other girl to smile lightly.

“And you big booty Judy will be alright. Hell, we all know if anyone is gonna fuck this up it will be me.” She continued her eyes trailing over the hall and to the platform upon which she saw the king and his two gentlemen in wait conversing, the king’s eyes not leaving their table.

“But we ain’t gonna fail girls. So just breathe and relax.”

Within seconds of Margaret finishing her sentence Lady Pierce returned.

“It is time girls.”

-

The Death King watched as the girls walked to him, his grey eyes washing over their frames. They approached his realm properly, waiting for permission to step closer and once they got as far they could, they curtsied and waited for him to address them.

“My Lovely Duchy, it is quite nice to meet you all. I hope the night has been what you have expected.” The King drawled his deep and accented voice twisting over his words, causing the young women to blush.

The King Chuckled.

“Oh look Otto and Charles; I have made my duchesses blush.” He stage whispered to the two men standing beside his throne, before turning his attention back to the women. “Ladies, may I introduce to you Archduke Charles of Austria and Prince Otto of Prussia.”  The two gentlemen dressed similarly to the king but with black wigs instead of grey, bowed to the women then straightened turning all focus back to the king.

It took a moment, for the situation became so surreal for the girls that they were at a loss for words. Finally and surprisingly Antoinette found her voice first and spoke.

“It is quite the Honor your Highness to be able to make your acquaintance as well as that of the Arch Duke and Prince.” She stated demurely, her voice slightly wavering under her words.

Amused grey eyes snapped to her form, a hidden smirk playing on the king’s lips.

“My, this is such a surprise!” he exclaimed “I figured dear Margaret would have the first words but it is my sweet Antoinette, so demure and delicate, so proper and pure.” His eyes raked over her form before they moved to Margaret.

“What say you my little fire cracker?” He chuckled.

It was like a jolt to her system causing her to go into hyper drive.

“I would say it’s about time, I was bored to tears out there.” She teased, a smirk tugging at her lips.

The King chuckled as Otto shifted in his stance.

“Ah, there she is: my little hellion, so bold and brazen.” He looked at her for only a second longer before he turned his attention to Carolina.

“And what say you my little dove?” he whispered darkly, his tone and voice flowing into Carolina causing her panties to become wet.

“I am also honored to finally make your acquaintance.” She said softly, her brown eyes staring into his.

“You have nothing more to say?” he asked, using the same tone as before causing a new flood of wetness to flow into her panties.

“N-nothing more that you don’t already know, your Highness.” She said quickly looking away from his grey eyes.

The Death king leaned forward in his throne, in part to mask his growing erection and in part to be closer to the girls. He looked over them again, each blushing under his watchful vision, even the brazen Margaret, not daring to meet his gaze for too long. They were perfect.

“Well ladies, I have kept you long enough. Do enjoy the rest of your evening.”

The young duchesses curtseyed to him once more then turned, quickly walked away, leaving the Death King and his companions watched them go.

“You were right, your Highness; they are perfect.” Prince Otto stated, his green eyes trailing after Margaret. Arch Duke Charles, nodded his head in agreement, his brown eyes following Antoinette’s every move.

The king shook his head, his stormy eyes never losing sight of Carolina as he whispered.

“And soon they will be ours.”

-

The ball progressed smoothly after the duchy’s audience with the king. Suitors continued to offer them dances and indulged in harmless flirtations. A few of the other women stopped by to introduce themselves and their chosen companion’s, wither they were male or female.

The duchy took it all in; happy to be rid of the nervous tension they gained under the eyes of the King and his men. The ball seemed to be rising towards a grand climax for the chatter had increase and the looks of contempt and jealously had in large part stopped. Every face was filled with pleasure and stretched in an infectious happiness.

The music suddenly stopped, and once more a hush fell over the ballroom, all eyes turned to see the King rise from his throne, his two men trailing after him. The three exuded power and an animal magnetism that was unmatched by any man, pulling all eyes to them.

The crowd moved, every man and woman giving the king his much deserved space, allowing him to pass freely to the center of the room where he paused.

The man on his right, whom Carolina recognized as Otto, spoke.

“It is now time for the King to choose his bride. Will the Duchess of Aragon, The Countess of Avon, the Countess of Jersey, The Countess of Flanders, The Baroness of Bourbon please step to the right.” He commanded his voice exciting Margaret. Her eyes widened as she stared at the green devil, who caught her gaze and winked at her. Margaret quickly blushed averting her eyes.

After the women had clustered together, the man on his left, Charles spoke.

“Will the Duchess of Normandy, the Countess De Medici, the Countess Bathory, and the Baroness Dracul please step to the left.” His strong voice demanded, causing Antoinette to shiver. His dark brown eyes caught the movement causing a smirk to form on his lips.

Once those women had moved to their section the King spoke.

“Gentlemen, gaze upon these women, for they are a fine prize for any young man.” He stated benevolently, letting the poor women down easy. “But as the King of Death I must say unfortunately none of you ladies are my queen. May you enjoy your evening.” There were a few outbursts of tears but the two groups of young women were ushered out of the ball room before a scene could be caused.

Once they were gone the king cleared his throat.

“Lights!” at his command the room grew dark. The Duchy became startled, each girl reaching for her companion, only to find that they couldn’t. Instead their searching hands met strong covered arms. The lights instantly came back on and everyone gasped.

The Death King was bent on one knee his head bowed as Carolina, the Grand Duchess of Valois stood in front of him. Margaret and Antoinette were both in the arms of Otto and Charles, both too shocked and scared to do anything else.

The king looked up from the ground into Carolina’s eyes, his dark grey gaze piercing her soul.

“May I have this dance?” he whispered offering her his hand.

Carolina nodded dumbly, watching as the King stood up. He quickly bowed which she met with a nervous curtsey. He walked to her, wrapping one arm around her, gathering her up closely for the Viennese waltz.

Slowly the music began to filter into the room causing them to start the dance. Carolina had never danced a waltz in her life but it was as if her feet and body already knew the counts, following her king’s lead. He leaned his head forward toward her hear, his breath tickling her neck.

“Just relax my little dove.” He whispered his deep voice and closeness causing her to become aroused. Carolina nervously took a deep breath and nodded praying that the dance would end soon so she could escape the king.

She got her wish for within seconds the song had ended, causing the king’s arms to drop from her form. They bowed to each other once more, the King grabbing her palm at the end, bringing her to his side.

“My queen and I bid you adieu.”

He tugged her hand lightly causing her to follow him out of the ballroom. As the doors closed behind them the music picked up for the two last dances of the evening.

-

The Death King led Carolina to the terrace which overlooked the impressive grounds of the mansion. The moon was high in the sky bathing them both in the light. Carolina’s gaze went straight to the moon with a strong resolve to not look at her companion. The king chuckled softly, walking behind the young woman, incasing her body with his.

 “You can’t escape me that easily.” He whispered teasingly in her ear, causing Carolina to moan unintentionally. Embarrassed she turned on him quickly, her brown eyes full of fire.

“What do you want from me?” she hissed, her dark eyes narrowing.

Without answering the question, the Death king tipped his masque up, revealing two pale lips. He struck quickly, his lips finding hers, and pulling her into a rough kiss. He sucked down all of her breathy sighs and moans through his pleasurable kisses as she gripped onto him tightly.

He backed them onto the brick wall of the house, Carolina shivering at the feel of her bare skin against the cool wall. His lips found hers once more teasing her as his knee worked its way between her legs. He lifted her right leg, pushing her voluminous dress up to her waist as he gripped her leg. He pressed into her, allowing her to feel his growing hardness against her thong clad core.

“Do you feel me?” he whispered darkly, his words sending stabs of pleasure to Carolina’s throbbing center. She nodded dumbly causing him to chuckle.

“I can smell you from here darling.” He purred, causing a moan to escape her lips. His warm palm trailed up and down her inner thigh causing her to squirm with pleasure.  She became frustrated as more wetness began to fill her panties.

Brazenly she took his hand and placed it over her panties, thrusting down on his hand.

“S-stop teasing me.” She panted, chest heaving causing her full breasts to strain under her tight bodice. The king chuckled, and slipped a finger into her panties, spreading the wetness around her nether lips before plunging in. Carolina released a breathy moan, her eyes rolling in her skull. He began to finger her with quick deep thrusts which caused her to see stars. His lips stayed on her neck, sucking and biting and breathing on her skin, over heating her till she had no choice but to orgasm.

Her climax crashed upon her hard, causing her legs to spasm and buckle, and a loud moan to sound. When she had finished seeking her pleasure, the Death King removed his now wet finger from her, sucking the juices off and moaning at her taste. His lips crashed back on hers, allowing her to taste herself, as pressed back into her. His lips trailed back to her neck where he paused, taking deep breaths, filling his nostrils with her scent.

“Until we meet again my queen.” He whispered, before he savagely bit her neck, his right hand moving quickly to muffle her screams of terror. The pain was so blinding that Carolina vision began to blur and fade into darkness.

-

Carolina jerked in bed, her hands shooting up to her neck searching for any bite marks. Upon finding none she frowned, and moved towards her mirror in order to get a better look at herself. Other than her hair falling out of its wrap, nothing seemed unusual.

She racked her brain trying to think of the conclusion of the grand night, but all she could only vaguely remember  dancing with the prince, and then leaving with Margaret and Antoinette. Some part of her urged her that there was more that happened, but the young girl shrugged it off as a bad dream and got back into bed, never noticing the little gold signet ring on her finger, marking her as a part of the House of Death.