Masquerade Orgy with Nine Slaves,100 Horny Guests, Part One

Nine Upper Floor slaves snap to attention, bare asses tight, tits high. The Steward and Mr. Acworth walk the line, hands on hips, cocks already half-hard under their suits. The room holds its breath until the command cracks the silence: "Get the dicks hard!" They explode. Nine trained slaves hit the crowd like heat-seeking missiles, dropping to their knees, yanking belts open, swallowing meat before the guests can blink. Hands slap down on shoulders, hips, whatever they can grip. The hundred-strong audience growls to life, cocks swelling, nipples tightening under silk and leather. Roast pig glistens on the carving table. The slaves are inspected, spread, turned, inspected again. Mr. Acworth nods. "Let the orgy begin." Bodies hit the floor in every configuration. Slaves get bent over ottomans, thighs pried wide. Cocks drive straight into greased assholes, deep and relentless. Throats bulge around thick shafts while saliva runs in strings onto carpet. Tits get mauled, squeezed, sucked, marked with teeth. Two cameras circle like sharks but the action still outruns them—sudden spit-roasts, sudden anal switches, sudden double penetration that makes the slaves squeal and buck. Cocks slap wetly against cheeks. Cum shoots across arched backs. The Upper Floor has never looked more alive or more used.