Mabel Shot Part 2

I study the man's face, noticing his heavy breathing, concentrating while holding the trays, as the blonde woman in front of him is being pleasured by the redhead kneeling between her legs. The woman in the silicone outfit behind him keeps whipping him with increasing intensity. His deep groan makes me look closer, realizing it's not pain he's expressing. A tall, Black man wearing a white gas mask covering his entire face steps out from the left side of the audience and joins the group in the center, stroking his visibly erect penis. He positions himself behind the redhead, who is giving oral sex to the blonde, and lifts her by the hips, leaving her on her knees with her butt raised. I watch him get into position behind her, aligning himself to penetrate her anally. The blonde holds her head still so she doesn’t move, and I instantly feel my own body tense up, imagining the pain of being entered like that, without any lubrication. But the strangest part of all this is that I don’t feel horror.
Instead, a second wave of tension pulls me in, as I realize I’m becoming aroused by the explicit sex in front of me. My thighs press together immediately, my cheeks heating as I watch the man pull out slowly, only to thrust back in deeper. His large hands rise and fondle the blonde’s bare breasts, pinching her nipples hard.
"I need to get out of here!" I whisper in shock, covering my breasts with my hands as they suddenly feel tender and sensitive under the fabric. I glance around at the people on the other side of the room and feel a surge of gratitude that everyone seems too focused on the action in the center to notice me. Letting out a small sigh, I lift my gaze to the upper floor balcony, and my gratitude evaporates when my eyes lock onto the only person in the entire room staring directly at me. It’s impossible to miss a man of his size standing near the railing, hands in his pockets, wearing a bronze goat mask. I feel exposed, not in the literal sense, but as if my soul has been laid bare. It’s as though he can see the old demons within me, the ones that are waking too quickly. Embarrassed at being caught, I drop my hands from my chest and try to act casual, but it’s clear my nipples are hard and pushing through the fabric, like two beacons signaling my arousal.
“Damn it!” I mutter, hunching my shoulders and breathing rapidly, trying to look away from my silent observer.
“What’s wrong?” Macro asks, glancing down at me.
“Macro, I think it’s time I find my coat and leave,” I say, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before turning to figure out how to exit without retracing my steps.
“But—”
“This place isn’t for me, Macro!” I step forward, craning my neck to spot a sign or an emergency exit nearby.
Suddenly, the lights go out completely, leaving the room in total darkness, and I freeze in place. All I hear are whistles and shouts around us.
“Damn it!” I curse under my breath, turning to try and understand what’s going on.
“Mabel!” I hear Macro’s voice calling me. My eyes follow a beam of light that suddenly appears, shining only on the blonde, the redhead, and the man behind them, still engaged in their act.
“You shouldn’t have brought me here...” I close my eyes, shaking my head, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through me, the tingling on my skin, the rising anxiety.
“You can handle this, look at me!” Macro pulls me closer, holding my face in his hand. “Here, you don’t need to be afraid to be yourself…”
I open my eyes, biting my lips as I stare at him. I shake my head at him again. Looking around, I notice the crowd becoming more excited as eight women dressed in sheer white robes, with flower crowns on their heads, emerge from the audience, carrying yoga mats. They form a circle around the center and lay the mats on the ground.
“Come on, get closer!” Macro grabs my hand and pulls me nearer. “The muses are about to choose the tributes for the regalia.”
“Muses?” I glance in confusion at the women, who begin dancing seductively to the soft music playing in the background.
“The girls, they’re going to pick tributes,” Macro whispers in my ear, resting his chin on my shoulder. “The dance they’re doing is a reenactment of an ancient pagan festival held by forest nymphs for the old god Lupercus, as he was known to the Romans. To the Greeks, he was Pan, half-man, half-goat. The people chosen by them will be taken to the center, where the mats are, and await the rewards given by the counselors.”
“Okay, that’s enough!” I shake my head and turn to Macro. “This is getting weirder by the second. First, I thought we were in a butcher shop, then at some kind of explicit art exhibit, not to mention the orgy happening right there, which I still don’t fully understand, and now you’re telling me a pagan ritual is about to take place for some god I’ve never even heard of?!” I whisper frantically, looking at him with wide eyes. “Oh my God, Macro! What the hell have you gotten yourself into... I knew you were mixed up with fanatics!”
Macro bursts out laughing at my confusion, grabbing my face and shaking his arms while he laughs.
“Relax, Mabel, just breathe!” Macro says between fits of laughter, leaving me even more bewildered by how amusing he finds my reaction. “No one here is performing a ritual, you crazy woman! It’s all just a show, something to awaken the guests’ sexuality. I didn’t bring you to a cult or brotherhood; the worst thing that’s going to happen soon is a lot of people hooking up all over this place.”
“You literally just mentioned this Pan guy!”
“Because of his association with virility and insatiable sexual appetite, Pan was connected to orgies and wild revelry. It’s just part of the theme…”
“With all due respect, Macro, this doesn’t look like a Shakespeare play to me!” I turn my head and watch the women dancing a few meters away, rubbing their breasts with their hands.