Maid for a Night
by jastes22 

Part 15: Taylor's Choice

Everyone held their breath as thoughts raced through my head. My stomach was churning into painful knots, a strange sensation when naked, deliberating over the impossible choices. It was shocking how tempting the offer was. I was getting too tired, both physically and emotionally, to fight back, and part of me wanted to do anything to make the night go quicker, no matter the cost. Not only that, but even if I refused, Lindsay had already snuck in the additional caveat that pictures were no longer prohibited, even after I was done posing. Everything from this moment would be recorded.

But my mask…that was too much. I doubted I would ever be able to get rid of those pictures that they had already taken, but if only one of them had my face uncovered…it would poison the whole batch. Everyone who saw just the one picture would know that the slut underneath rhe mask was yours truly, the good girl, the straight-A student with aspirations to get on the honor roll and go to a good college to study, of all things…veterinary medicine.

Again, despite everything that the boys participated in, I trusted them not to share the pictures with others. Those pictures wouldn’t go outside this room, so what did it matter if my identity was apparent in them? The boys already knew who it was under the mask. Other people might have called me crazy for actually believing that any boy wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to share nudes of a girl they knew with their other friends, but my boys were different than that. We had a rapport with each other, a kind of pact that bonded us together. But I also knew that it would only take one incident, one mistake, for those floodgates to break and for everything that had happened tonight to come flooding into my public life.

No. I couldn’t risk it. I had to keep the mask on. I would submit myself to whatever Lindsay told me, but I was going to keep my identity a secret.

Still…I hesitated. I wondered for a moment if this was one of those choices, like my handcuffs and the pictures, that I had no choice to accept, and that Lindsay was going to take my mask off regardless of my choice, and I would lose any benefit of doing so willingly.

But I couldn’t take that chance and actually agree to it. “N-No,” I said. “I want to keep my mask.”

A moment, a pause. I knew Lindsay was thinking. I knew she was considering taking my mask as proof of her ownership of me. That no matter what I said, she was ultimately in control.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she finally said. Panic raced through my veins. Had I made a bad choice that I was about to regret? “But I respect your decision. Looks like we have you all night.”

Right. All night.

A pause. “Jackson? I believe it’s your turn.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Deep relief for only a moment before a new sense of dread filled me. Right. I was still paying for my handcuffs, and I was only halfway through my end of the bargain. Jackson hadn’t been so overt as Lindsay was about my humiliation, but he had definitely orchestrated some of the more embarrassing moments of the night that had opened new possibilities for my exposure. What kind of pose would he come up with?

Rather than starting to give me commands like the other two had done, I felt fingers grab my leash and start to tug. A hand reached out, touched my side. I squeaked, instinctively expecting for another hand to grab at my tits or my pussy. I realized that it was Lindsay who was touching me, helping me down from the table.

The simple touch was surprisingly calming. It was a reminder that Lindsay was still here. It made no sense, considering how Lindsay had orchestrated or encouraged every piece of humiliation I had gone through tonight, and yet…it was good knowing she was here.

Whoever was holding my leash—I assumed it was Jackson—continued to tug firmly, and I followed promptly, moving to the center of the room. The fear that the boys would think I was an eager slut ready to be controlled wasn’t as strong as my fear of further punishment. I realized that now they could hold the threat of removing my mask over me for the rest of the night to keep me submissive.

A hand pulled down on my shoulder. “On all fours, pet,” Jackson said.

I flinched at the use of the word “pet.” It felt different than when Lindsay would use it. Lindsay used it as a tease, as a way of reminding me that I was in a humiliated, compromising position. Jackson used it as a reminder of control, that he was my master and I was subservient to him and the others.

All of this went through my mind in an instant, but I obeyed. There was no way to rest on the floor comfortably, and the odd angles of my limbs on the floor felt unnatural. The leash was still held taut.

There was some shuffling and whispered giggling as Jackson moved my unseen photographers around.

“Make sure you can see my feet, but nothing else, and make sure you can see her leash.”

I blushed at the thought of a leash being “my” leash, like this was a permanent thing.

“You’ve been a bad girl, Taylor,” Lindsay said. “Look at me and give us a pout.”

What? Confused but not wanting to hesitate, I turned in the direction of her voice. Pouting wasn’t difficult—I was already struggling to keep it together—so I curled my lips and squinted my eyes, as if I was going to cry, though I guess they couldn’t see that, anyway.

The phone cameras started to go off, and only then did I realize what Jackson was doing. Unlike Kyle’s and Thomas’ poses, which were designed to maximize the amount of exposed skin and privates, Jackson’s pose really emphasized how I was a subservient little pet, with an emphasis on the leash and collar. No self-respecting girl would ever be caught in this position. Only a girl who actually wanted it.

I was suddenly very glad that I had kept my mask on. I suspected that Jackson’s plan was to put me in this position regardless if I was wearing the mask or not. The thought of me, unmasked, and posing like a dog who had been caught doing something bad would have scarred me for life, even if no one saw it.

Even with the position I was in protecting me from giving a full frontal, there was still a lot of skin exposed. The entirety of my back and butt were uncovered, and I could hear cameras going off in that direction.

“Bend over,” Jackson said. “Stick up your butt.”

I swallowed, knowing that such a position would spread my cheeks and provide no cover for my holes. Even with the mask, the more pictures they took, the more likely that someone else would be able to piece together who the girl underneath the mask was. A butt was hardly enough for anyone to make a positive ID, but it was a part of my body that hadn’t been thoroughly documented yet, and would be another piece to the puzzle of my identity.

But I obeyed, seeing no other option. I tucked my hands to my chest and bent down, sticking my butt up. I squeaked as fingers spread my cheeks. I tried to open my mouth to stop them, but a deep, pleasurable moan escaped, effectively undermining any resistance I could muster. I laid there, trying to keep quiet as they explored and documented everything. Someone discovered that playing with my overly-stimulated pussy would consistently elicit a gasp or a squeak from me, and they each took turns exploring their new toy.

I willed them to go deeper, to give me release, but they never penetrated deeply enough to trigger an orgasm. The refusal to let me relieve myself only served to stimulate my body even more. Every touch felt like fire.

“Okay,” Jackson said. “That’s enough.”

I collapsed on the floor, breathing hard. Not only had their exploring been exhausting, but holding an awkward position like that made my stomach sore. For a moment, I worried that Lindsay or Jackson would jump on the fact that I had broken the pose without express permission, but thankfully, they said nothing.

I don’t know how long I laid there, but I was tempted to drift off into sleep. My eyes even started to droop before I realized that Lindsay was speaking to me.

“Okay, pet. Time for your last pose.”