I was sitting at my office desk with my hands behind my head, my size twelve gunboats propped up on the stained green blotter, looking out my fifth story window at the evening rush hour traffic jam on the freeway below. Huey, a black tomcat and the building's resident mouser, was snoozing on my stomach, draped over me like a wet tea towel.
It was the highpoint of an otherwise dull day.
Then somebody knocked on my office door.
Huey frowned and his long whiskers twitched but he didn't open his eyes.
"Come in!" I said to the shadow on the other side of the frosted glass.
The door opened and in rushed a very distraught ... and very statuesque ... blonde dressed in Christian Dior widow's weeds.
Huey and I both jerked to attention. Before I could drag my shoes off the desktop, Huey leaped from my belly and made a beeline for the weeping woman, his tail curled in a sift question mark. He wound himself in a sinuous figure eight around her slim ankles, rubbing his cheeks against her sleek, black high heels, his green eyes slitted with pleasure, purring like a maniac. The lucky devil!
"Please, Mr. Grue," she said, sobbing, lifting up the edge of the veil that masked her pale face and folding it up, out of the way, over the round crown of her broad-brimmed black velvet hat. She dabbed at her small, aristocratic nose with a mourning hanky of black lace. "Please, I need your help desperately!"
I stifled the urge to break into a wry smile. You see, everybody who comes through that relic of a door emblazoned "Bascom Grue, Investigations" needs my help desperately. Ninety-nine per cent of them are desperate to find out for sure whether or not their better halves are cheating. They want me to get the goods on their spouses ... photos, tape recordings, motel receipts ... the stuff divorces are made of. Being a P.I. is not nearly so exciting in real life as it is on the boob tube; it's not Harry O or Rockford Files, but it is lucrative and generally non-violent, which is exactly how I like things.
I didn't smile at the woman's delivery of the all-too-familiar line for a couple of reasons that should be obvious to any competent armchair detective. First off, the lady in black was not one of the aforementioned ninety-nine per cent. Her hubby was clearly beyond the reach of divorce court and in no condition to sign any alimony checks. Second, any female who could raise Huey from the dead like that ... and get me to take my brogues off my desktop ... had to be a stone fox. She was a stone fox!
And old Christian-baby must've been short on black satin material the day he designed her dress. In front it was cut very low, in a wide "V" that exposed fully half of some exceptionally large, firm and smooth tits. Every time she sighed they pushed up against the tight bodice, threatening to burst up and out. The dress was also quite tight around her slim waist and across the lush contours of her hips. The hem of the garment barely came to her mid thigh and her long, slender legs were encased in matching black nylons. Draped carelessly over her shoulders was a 'forties style, lynx fur coat, tawny brown and cream, that must've set the late hubby back a bundle. Her face was very pale, even her full lips, which were rose pink. Her cheekbones were high, her chin small but firm, her large eyes a shockingly light shade of blue. She wore her platinum hair long, but coiffed up on top of her head, up under the black hat.
The lady radiated class ... and something else. Something quite the opposite. Something that set my supposedly cool, calm and collected P.I.'s cock a-twitching. Without a doubt it was all due to her necklace. About her slim throat was a very odd choker, a band of super soft black leather a half inch wide that was pierced by a single silver stud. From a hole in the stud hung a small silver ring, making the neck adornment look very much like a high fashion dog collar. Was this the mythical Society Bitch-In-Heat? The debutante to whom degradation was delightful?
"Call me Bascom ... please," I said. "Can I get you a drink, Mrs. ... uh?"
She flashed me a weak smile and shook her head. Then she dropped her hanky back into her silver sequined handbag. "My name is Knutsen ... Marta Knutsen," she said.
"And how can I help you, Mrs. Knutsen?"
"It's my daughter, Hildy. She's missing."
I brought my eyes up from a quick recon mission over Tit City.
"That sounds like something the police would be better able to handle than me, ma'am," I said seriously.
"Oh, but ... but I've tried them and they said they couldn't help. That nice officer, Detective Ramon, suggested that I contact you."
I squirmed in my chair. Ramon and I weren't exactly bosom buddies, having bumped heads hard a few times before. "I don't understand," I said. "Why couldn't they help you?"
Mrs. Knutsen took a deep breath ... but not deep enough to suit me. "Well, you see, Hildy is missing, but I think I know where she is."
"And where is that?"
"Have you heard of the Church of the Waning Moon?"
I nodded my head. It was one of your typical, oddball, West Coast religious cults. Lately it'd been getting a lot of play on the six o'clock news because of the "Urban Relief Centers" it was setting up in the funkier parts of the city. You know, free hot dogs and brown rice if you listen to their spiel. According to the newscaster, the cult's founder was an ex-realtor from Daly City; its doctrine was based on "Love They Neighbor"; and most of its followers were young and female and known affectionately as the "Lunies." How long has she been involved with them?" I asked.
"She left home ... moved out ... two weeks ago to go live in that hideous pink mansion of theirs on Hyde Street. I haven't heard a word from her since." She opened her purse and took out the hanky and wiped the corners of her eyes, careful not to smear her mascara.
"Look, Mrs. Knutsen, I understand how you must feel, as a parent and all that, but unless you think Hildy is being held against her will, I don't see how I can legally do much to help you, either."
"There's more," she said, reluctantly. She reached back in her purse and drew out a manila envelope. "I'd hoped that I wouldn't have to show you this. The instructions were very specific ... and besides, well ... you'll see." She handed me the envelope, shuddering as it left her fingers.
I took from it a single, 8x10, glossy, color photograph. And nearly swallowed my tongue. "This is your Hildy?" I asked.
The Widow Knutsen nodded her head, retreating behind the black hanky.
The picture showed a very young, very lovely girl with facial features similar to Marta's. She was blonde like her mother and she wore her hair in a long ponytail. She was dressed only in black high heels, nylons, garter belt, and a cut out bra. The latter was so tight that it not only forced her breasts to flatten on her chest like full moons, but it also caused her pale pink nipples to jut from the constricting holes cut in the peaks of the bra cups, to appear as tender, swollen knobs of flesh. Her body was not as lush as her mother's but it was very firm and nubile, taut of titty, flat of tummy, round of hip, long of leg. She was being held on her back on a floor by two naked, white, hairy men wearing black masks over their eyes and nose, like the Lone Ranger. One of the men was kneeling behind her head, holding her wrists pinned down. Her head was propped up against his hairy crotch and his huge, erect cock ... dark red mushroom cap, thick, arching shaft ... was rubbing her cheek. The look on her face as she tried frantically to lick the hot bulb ... stark wild with the sex hunger ... made my balls ache. The other masked man was kneeling between her widely spread thighs. In his mouth he had one of those New Year's Eve party favor whistle toys, the kind that when you blow on them, they extend and a feather flips out at the tip. His cheeks were bulging, the whistle's tube was fully extended, as was his big prick, and he was in the act of teasing her naked, nearly hairless cunt with the feather. Her pussy looked super-loose and ready for a fuck or two. The outer labia were swollen and gaping, hot pink petals pouting; the inner lips were slick with lubricant.
I shifted my legs, trying my best to conceal the great, hulking boner I'd sprung. "How did you come by this?" I said.
Mrs. Knutsen looked up from her hanky, sniffed and said, "It was stuffed in my mail box. Later the same day I got a phone call from a man who said he wanted ten thousand dollars or he'd give the picture to all the wire services. He said if I told the police, he'd distribute the photo whether I paid him or not."
"You think he was from this Church of the Waning Moon?"
"I don't know. He didn't say. Mr. Grue, I'm so scared. I think they've done something to Hildy's mind. She was a good girl. She'd never have let those men let them do that to her if she wasn't doped up."
I looked at the picture again. Hildy certainly seemed to be enjoying herself. There was, of course, the slim possibility that her enthusiasm was drug-induced.
"Please, Mr. Grue," she said, bending over my desk, showing me about as much soft, ripe titty as I could handle, "I want you to stop them. To destroy the negative to that picture and any more like it. I want you to find Hildy and bring her home to me."
I squinted at her. "You realize, Mrs. Knutsen, that this kind of thing is way out of my line. I really think you should go back to the police and tell them the whole story."
"No!" she said, thumping my desk with her fist, making her tits shudder deliciously. "I don't care! The picture ... my reputation! I'll give you however much money you want." She drew a crumpled wad of fifties from her purse and thrust them at me. "Here!"
I waved away the proffered money. I had a much more pressing need than the mere stuffing of my wallet. My cock was pitching a tent in my double knits. I smirked at her Gucci dog collar, letting my eyes roam blatantly over her lush curves. "How long have you been a widow, Marta?" I asked.
Mrs. Knutsen got the picture instantly, but, being the classy dame she was, she pretended not to. "About three months, but I fail to see what that has to do with...."
"Everything, Marta. Everything," I said, smiling. "You're obviously very tense."
"I am?"
"Oh, yes." I stood up from my chair, making no attempt to hide the swollen rod straining against my fly. It looked like I'd crammed a baseball bat down my pants.
Her eyes dropped to the tell-tale bulge. "Oh!" she said, her hand fluttering to her mouth.
"There! See that? See what I mean?" I said, circling around the desk. "You need something to relax you...."
Huey, who'd heard that line enough times to know what came next, scampered for the comparative safety of my bookcase.
"Evidently so do you," she said. A hint of color came to her cheeks. "What exactly do you have in mind?"
"Something deeply satisfying."
"Like that, I suppose?" she said, pointing at my distended crotch.
"Why not?" I slipped my arms about her waist. She was very warm and the satin felt slinky and the scent of her perfume raised my blood pressure to the danger point.
She made a sour face and put her hands flat against my chest and tried to push me off. One hundred ten pounds trying to move two hundred fifty. All she accomplished was pushing her expensive coat off her shoulders and onto my desk.
I pulled her closer, mashing her fine tits into my chest, grinding my aching bone into her svelte pudenda. "Would you rather take it here, on the fur, or over on the couch?" I said huskily.
"You mean I actually have a choice?"
"You know you want it, Marta," I hissed, my mouth four inches from hers. "You know you want all that hot meat ramming up your juicy little pussy."
When in doubt, talk dirty.
Her cheeks blushed crimson. She stopped pushing. "And, if I do...." she said, her face suddenly all soft, her breathing very deep, "...will you take the case?"
"Maybe."
"Maybe?"
"Maybe." I said, slipping the tip of my index finger between the black leather choker and her smooth throat. I turned my finger, tightening the neckband, making it into sort of a decorative garrote. "...if you tell me what this is for."
Her face from the neck up turned a shade of strangulated scarlet. Her lips pursed. She slid her hand down my chest, right down over the pulsing head of my cock. She squeezed me hungrily. "Ooooh!" she said. "You're so big!! "
I twisted the choker tighter. "Tell me about it."
"Uhhhh!" she groaned, suddenly leaning against me, rubbing the whole front of her body, her tits, her belly, her plump mons, into me.
I took the opportunity to slip a hand down over one of her resilient buttocks. I kneaded the firm dome vigorously.
"Ooooh, baby, that feels so good," she cooed, tipping her ass up for me to explore more thoroughly.
I lifted the hem of her dress and shoved my hand inside the diminutive seat of her diminutive, black lace, mourning panties. Her buns were smooth as silk and the crack between them was a tight, hot crevasse. I fondled her greedily, dragging a fingertip down the deep cleavage until I touched something blazing hot, something slightly moist, something that puckered out from between her cheeks, something that flexed marvelously under the pad of my finger.
"Uhhhh!" she moaned, twisting her ass, making my finger rasp over her tender anus. Then her fingers were ripping at my fly, sharp red nails clawing at my dick head, dragging the whole rigid length of my manhood out into the light.
I swear I nearly squirted instantly. She had incredibly talented fingers. Fingers that pinched and tugged at the pendulous drapery of my nerve bundle, the smegmatic folds that hung beneath pulsing pudcap; fingers that encircled my throbbing idiot stick, milking it passionately, drawing from it the first sputtering dribble of pre-come.
"The collar," I reminded her, putting even more pressure into the stranglehold.
Slowly, the scarlet of her face darkened to purple; her eyes bulged out; her hips began to flip, frantically bumping her pussy against my thigh. She reveled in the mistreatment.
"Oooooh, baby. Baby!" she whimpered, trapping my stiff cock between her hot, smooth palms and rolling it back and forth rapidly. "My purse! Give it to me!"
I did as she asked. She dropped my tingling tool and rummaged through her handbag, coming up with a short black leather training leash with a silver snap. I watched in amazement as she attached the snap to the ring in her choker. She put the looped end of the leash in my hand, her eyes shining with joy.
"It was Newton," she said, breathlessly, "my late husband, who broke me to the leash." She lingered over the word, relishing even the feel of it rolling across her palate. "But he wasn't half so masterful as you, Bascom...." Her hot hands dropped to clutch at my arching boner.
"You bet your sweet ass!" I said, my brain pan on fire, the gray matter suddenly as tender and distended as the stiff meat she rolled furiously in her palms. "Take off that damn dress!"
Wordlessly, she obeyed. The black garment fluttered to the floor, to be joined quickly by the hat and veil. She stood before me trembling, clad in a black lace push up bra, garter belt, nylons, and panties.
"The panties, too!" I ordered.
She rolled the skimpy undies down over her round hips, exposing a super dense ruff of dirty blonde pubic hair. She was too slow in her stripping.
I reached out, grabbed the lacy bikinis, and jerked. They came away from her hairy snatch with a ripping sound.
"Oooh!" she crooned as my hand covered her sex.
Below the hairy hummock, up between her thighs, she was wide open and ready to screw. Her labia were absolutely dripping with woman goo, swollen up like they'd been stung by bees. The smell of bitch-in-heat mixed with the sweet stink of her perfume. I teased the juicy entrance with a fingertip and she resumed her frantic cock pumping, using both hands, making her doubled fists fly up and down my pole.
"So you've been to Obedience School, huh?" I said, blinking through the red fuck haze that obscured my sight. "Let's see you heel...." I put the handle of the leash between my legs and caught hold of it in back as it protruded below my ass. Then I began to pull. To pull the foxy mama to her knees. To drag her aristocratic face right into my raging hard on.
Her pouty mouth opened greedily to receive the engorged head of my dick, but I denied it to her. I dragged her hot lips down, down, dragged her face into the shaggy hair that shrouded my balls. My cock thumped on her hairdo; she nuzzled into my scrotum, her tongue flicking wildly over the pale pinkish brown chicken skin flesh, laving my swollen orbs. I jerked the lead and she whimpered ecstatically, turning her head to the side, opening her mouth as far as it would go.
"Uhhh!" I moaned as both my nuts slipped into her blazing, wet mouth. My cock flexed spasti-cally, sending streamers of thick pre-come belching over the side of her head. The bitch was actually nursing on my nasty bag, bobbing her head. I could see her cheeks hollow as she applied suction to the trapped testes, see the crisp pubes, dark with her slobber, abrading her nose, her puffing lips could take no more. My need to orgasm was devastating. I shoved her back on her heels, forcing her to give up her wrinkled prize. Then, yanking on the leash, I headed for the couch. The trained cunt trotted on all fours at my side.
"Get up there and spread 'em!" I snarled, stripping off my shirt.
Whining through her small nose, Marta obeyed. She sat on the threadbare couch and opened her thighs, showing me a cunt in a near-terminal heat. The woolly ring of hairs surrounding it was dark and dripping with pussy juice; the sex lips were an enraged red color, a steaming vortex of fuck need, and between them, at their nadir, I could actually see the convulsing entrance to her tube.
My cock thumped insistently against my sternum. It needed a home. I gave it one. I threw myself on the shivering Widow Knutsen, pulling on the leash, twisting her body to suit my pleasure.
Something searing hot and so very slick slid against my nuts. I moved my hips lower and said, "Put it in!"
Fingers pulled at my cock and then a marvelous heat washed over the tender bulb. I snapped my ass and groaned as the mouth of her cunt gave way, as it slid up over the shaft of my tool, sputtering its febrile joy.
"Oh! OH, GOD, YES!! ! " Marta screeched as I spitted her, her hips churning, pumping, making the juicy fuck tube gobble more and more of my meat. "Fuck me. FUCK ME!! "
I did just that. My body moved automatically, ass flipping, cock thrusting, parrying, balls flapping against the silky smoothness of her ass. Her squishy pussy sputtered and fumed under the onslaught of rigid pecker, so greedy for another tube-splitting lunge.
"Uh ... uhhh ... UHH-YEEEEEE!! ! " she shrieked, locking her thighs about my hips, clawing my back unmercifully. She was coming!
I shuddered at the power of her cunt muscles. They locked on my slogging cock, squeezing it, slowing down its rampaging in-out tempo, making the ridges and convolutions of her pussy bump over nerve bundle and pudcap, creating a friction so powerful, a suction so devastating, that ... that my balls exploded with joy. It rippled up over my belly, sizzled up my spine, and gobs of bubbling gizm rocketed from my dick, washing her tube in boiling sperm.
She thrashed under me, wallowing in the waves of sticky stuff, flipping her sweaty ass, causing my hot come to ooze out around plunging cock and gibbering cunt, to ooze down over her winking bunghole in a steaming rivulet.
Finally the thrills came to an end and I rolled off her come-sodden saddle, looking for something to mop up with. She lay there with her thighs still spread, holding her leash in her fist.
"God, that was fantastic!" she said, looking down at her ravaged cunt, at the pale seepage. "Bascom, you are a monster!"
"I know," I said, wiping my gooey cock on her dress.
"Will you take my case now?" she asked hopefully.
I smiled at her. With my cock satisfied ... momentarily, at least ... it was time to turn to the pressing needs of the wallet. "We haven't discussed my fee, have we?" I said.
CHAPTER TWO
I arose at noon the next day with a staggeringly large and powerful erection, a morning piss hard. I was amazed that I could even spring one after the night I'd spent carousing with the good Widow Knutsen. As soon as we'd agreed on my fee, and my wallet was suitably stuffed, I was once again stricken by the stumbling hornies, the cunt munchies, which she was all too glad to help me alleviate, so long as I kept a tight rein on her.
Anyway, I dragged on some nondescript clothes and drove the Cougar over to the Mission Street Urban Relief Center to do a little first hand recon on the Church of the Waning Moon and the Lunies.
The Center was located in a rundown storefront firetrap in a neighborhood so rough that when the little old ladies took their Social Security checks down to the corner grocery, they went in a convoy ... walking four abreast, arms linked, Mace cans at ready.
I opened the front door and a little bell tinkled overhead. The place was decorated in Early Rubbish Heap ... dumpy armchairs, a collapsed couch, a long table with maybe thirty chairs, none of which matched. On the wall was a huge 4x6 foot full color photo portrait of a completely bald man with a black goatee and beetling brows. He looked like a Neanderthal Telly Savalas. He had a feral grin plastered on his mug and the photog had air-brushed little twinkles in his beady eyes.
From the chaos that littered the table, it was apparent that I'd arrived too late for breakfast. All the hot dogs were gone and what brown rice remained hung encrusted on the sides of a huge steel pot like barnacles.
A petite teenage girl came from what appeared to be a back room. "Good morning, Brother, I'm Sister Marjorie," she chirped. She was chicano and exceedingly sexy. Her hair was black, straight, shiny and worn short. She had honey colored skin, full, sculptured lips, high cheekbones and smoldering black eyes. She was wearing a sloppy, oatmeal colored sweater, which, despite its loose fit, was severely stretched across the bosom by her big, jutting, braless tits. On her feet she wore sandals and her legs and hips were encased in a pair of super tight, faded blue jeans. Those hips of hers would not quit. They were so ripe as to be almost too much ... a foreshadowing of unsightly bulges in her future.
"Do you walk in moonlight?" she asked very seriously.
I resisted the temptation to crack wise. I needed to find out where these lunar kooks were at. So, I feigned anomie, the plague of the Inner City. "No, Sister, I don't," I confessed. "But my life has been so empty ... there's got to be something somewhere for me ... something to believe in ... some path to follow."
"A seeker!" she said, clapping her hands together. As she walked towards me, her tits undulated tastily beneath the sweater. "Most of the Terrans we get here are just hungry for hot dogs, not enlightenment. It's so refreshing to find a seeker at last. Perhaps I can help you find the source ... lead you into the Light of the Waning Moon!"
I scratched my head. "I don't know anything about your group, Sister Marjorie, except that it does good deeds...."
Her dark eyes flashed. The bait was taken, greedily. "Sit down, Brother Terran, and let me lead you...."
I sat down in a battered red velvet armchair and steeled myself for the dogma deluge to come.
"That," she said, pointing to the large portrait, and causing her right breast to lift magnificently, "is the high priest and founder of our order, His Radiance, Sigmund den Err. It is only through his teaching, his divine ministering that we may attain true peace. We Children of Luna bask in the reflection of the reflection: Sunlight, Moonlight, Deliverance." She paused briefly for the profundity of her precepts to permeate my pate.
When she took up the thread of her explanation, her eyes had a distinct, feverish glow to them. "The sun, in its wild passion," she said, spreading her arms wide to form a circle and lifting them over her head so that both breasts lifted, nipples dragging over the scratchy sweater, nipples stiffening into marvelous, inch long stubs, "transmits a blaze of Truth, a firestorm of Revelation too vehement for the human mind to grasp. His Radiance teaches us that it is only through the miraculous intercession of our celestial benefactress, Luna, that we may bask in the clear light of
Reflected Ruth. Because of certain physical laws, astronomical positions, angles of refraction, it is the Light of the Waning Moon that is the most pure, the closest to being Solar Perfection, the Final Truth...."
They didn't call them "Lunies" for nothing.
"The reflection of the reflection. I see," I said. "The Truth of the sun reflected upon the body of Luna which is in turn reflected through the wisdom of Sigmund upon the upturned faces of the faithful."
Sister Marjorie practically jumped for joy at my little regurgitation.
"But, Sister, what does Sigmund teach?" I asked with painful sincerity.
The sexy young girl surprised the hell out of me by immediately plopping down on my lap and slinging her arms about my neck. Her heavy-tipped breasts grazed my chest. Her big bottom was very warm on my crotch.
"Are you really seeking the revealed Truth?" she said, her eyes as big as Hostess Ding Dongs.
I fought the urge to slip my hand in under her sweater, to capture one of her hefty bouncing tits. "Sister Marjorie, let me bask in the Clear Light!" I exclaimed.
She pushed back from me and looked me straight in the eye. "It is my duty to ask you a question now, before we go any further. It is not my question; it is part of the ritual of our order. Do you understand?"
I nodded, trying in vain to keep my raging boner from nudging up into her plump ass.
"Are you now, or have you ever, been a member of any city, county, state, or federal law enforcement agency or oversight bureau thereof?" she asked.
"No," I said, shaking my head as much to clear the shock waves from it as to deny the allegation. They screened newcomers to weed out potential undercover cops! Undoubtedly our little indoctrination tete-a-tete was being bugged so that if I were in fact a cop the recording could be later used as evidence of entrapment in any criminal case that came as a result of my investigation. There was more to these Lunies than hot dogs and brown rice.
"I'm so glad," Sister Marjorie said, hopping up from my lap. She hurriedly locked the front door and drew all the blinds. When she turned towards me again, her eyes were full of burning zeal and her breathing seemed labored. Big titties rising and falling under the oatmeal sweater. "You must wait here while I change into my vestments," she said, hurrying off to the back room.
In a couple of minutes she returned in full Lunie regalia. Nothing in my experience as a P.I. or as an aficionado of the art of strip tease, prepared me for the bizarre costume she wore. Not that it was skimpy, for there were yards and yards of material ... they were just all in the wrong places to conceal anything.
At first glance, it looked like an ordinary monk's habit made of mouse gray cloth, floor length, with a hood hanging from the back. The second glance, however, would've been enough to raise the atrophied organ of St. Martin. From waist to throat the garment was open, cut out in a triangle whose peak pointed down, coming to just above the navel. The two sides of the triangle spread out so that Sister Marjorie's huge, ebony tipped breasts, her collarbone and most of her smooth shoulders were exposed. Tied tightly about her waist was a sash of the same material. Below the sash, it was the same, wonderful story, only the cut out triangle was the mirror image of the upper one, so that the two peaks were separated only by the width of the sash. In the bottom cut out I could see everything that the girl had: her incredibly fat pudenda covered with a ruff of straight, shiny black hair, and cleft, just where the hummock turned under, by a puckering, carmine slit. I could see her overripe thighs, creased by the tight bands of black garter belt snaps and by the constraining tops of her nylons. I could even see her butt-cheeks behind her hairy cunt, lurking in the shadows of her robe like harvest moons.
"Bask in the Light, Brother!" she said, waggling the upper half of her body, making her voluminous tits jiggle about on her chest.
The look in her eyes was pure lunacy. I'd seen that look before ... on the face of Hildy Knutsen in the blackmail photo. As she walked towards me, my cock started doing frantic push ups in my pants, an activity that she did not fail to catch.
"Oh! Brother, it is a sign!" she said, pointing at the rigid length of my prick. "Bless the most perfect, dimpled sphere of Luna who has seen fit to raise your Moonship...."
"Huh?"
The zealous teenager dropped to her knees before me, her fevered eyes glued to the head of my pud. "Such a powerful vehicle!" she crooned, pursing her thick, mocha colored lips. "So full of the passionate Light! All systems GO! Prepare for liftoff ... the glorious voyage into Truth begins!"
Though her babbling was a curious and disturbing mixture of Houston Space Center jargon and Zoroastrian liturgy, her actions were most pleasurable. She spread my knees with her hands, crawled between them, and then proceeded to head straight for the long bulge down the leg of my trousers ... with her open mouth! She pressed her hot parted lips to the trapped bulb and began kissing my cockhead fervently through the fabric. Instantly, the heat of her mouth, her breath washed over my pud and a teaspoonful of sticky pre-come shot from my slot, only to dribble down the inside of my thigh.
I could not believe my eyes. I'd never seen a girl so truly hungry for man chowder. I clutched her hair and flipped my hips into her face. Her drool saturated my pants leg and I could feel her tongue rasping over my dickhead, but the sensation was muted by the soggy, intervening material.
"Come on, you little slut," I moaned. "Take it out...."
Her hands slid up my legs, sending thrills rippling up over my nuts, raising the gooseflesh on my forearms. She paused in her trouser sucking to look up at me. She said, "In Luna there is union; in union there is Luna...."
"Oh, for Christ's sake!" I said, tearing at my fly, ripping my pants down around my knees. My hard cock flipped up; the angry bulb thumping against my chest. A gooey line of white oozed down my hairy knee.
"Ooooh, Mother Moon!" she cried in delight. "It's leaking!" She thrust her mouth on the come slobber, gripping my legs behind the knee.
My cock flopped around like a beached whale while I watched her devour the sticky stuff, while I felt her lips and tongue slavering over my knee, my thigh. Such a greedy little bitch! Her hot lips squirmed closer and closer to my pulsing pudcap, following the flow on pre-come to its source. The thrills I received from the kneeling girl were almost indescribable. Her attention was so fixed on prolonging my pleasure, her attitude so slavish, that I could hardly bear it.
Then her blazing lips found my cockhead. God! It was better than I'd hoped: seeing her plump lips slip over the flaring head of my prick, seeing her nostrils dilate as the compost heap stench of man-in-heat invaded her sinuses, feeling the ecstatic bump as her lips popped over pudcap rim, feeling her teeth at my nerve bundle, her tongue sliding up and down my dribbling slot.
Suddenly her cheeks went concave and my cock was drawn out of shape by the power of her divinely inspired suction. Mind-numbing waves of joy raced up my dick as she shifted her head from side to side, lashing her tongue back and forth, inching more and more meat into her mouth. Her tightly stretched lips, bright red from dick friction, mumbled moist endearments to ropy veins, hairless follicles, errant warts, and the smattering of long pubes that sprouted here and there.
It was staggering how much cock she could swallow. Little by little my entire joint slipped down into her throat. And all the while she kept up the marvelous suck action. Only when her small nose nuzzled in the coarse hairs at the base of my cock, when her fat lower lip brushed my balls, did she stop her gobbling. The girth of my dick distended her whole face; it was like she'd impaled herself on a tree limb. Then, huffing and puffing for all she was worth, she slowly let my meat slip from the depths of her gullet.
I nearly squirted as she twisted and turned her mouth about my shaft, wringing it with her trembling lips. And as her mouth withdrew, it left behind a glistening coat of drool and a cock rubbed crimson, a fiery red club.
I swear she knew how close I was to coming and she was determined to stretch out the marvelous agony to the limit. Even as my ass-hole began to flutter, she let the enraged bulb pop from her lips. It was instantly hit by a gust of cool wind that cut off my spasming like a switch.
"Mmmmmm, take heart, Brother...." she crooned, grabbing my dick by the base and lifting its tumescent head towards the ceiling. Her lips showered the hairy skin of my balls with kisses, sending thrill after thrill up my spine. Her tongue laved each of my tender peach seeds lovingly, popping them into her mouth and giving them gentle suck. The sight of such a lovely, such a hot girl rubbing genitals, my genitals all over her face was enough to set my knees knocking. Then she lowered the slimy helmet, and, turning her head to the side, placed her lips just below my slot, upon my pendulous nerve bundle.
"Ooooh!" I groaned, grabbing her by the ears, flipping my hips reflexively, as I felt her teeth gnaw hungrily at my nerve center.
She munched my folds, smacking her lips, applying tongue to my slot every few seconds to sweep away the ever-oozing blob of pre-come. Faster and faster she worked, making a sloppy trough of her mouth and sliding it up and down the underside of my cock, down over my balls and back. Always back to the smegmatic drapery of my nerve bundle, sharp civet teeth nipping, making me whimper with joy.
Again and again she drew me to the verge of orgasm. And, in my mind's eye, I stood on the crumbling edge of a precipice, a yawning chasm, my cock and balls glowing with pleasure, and, above my head, I could feel the beating of great wings. At the precise instant that the tip of my head began to come unglued, at the very second the tickling radiance of come joy sizzled down my tube, she released me ... only to murmur more religious rubbish with her pube-littered lips.
Talk about congested! My ducts felt like they weighed a ton. I craved to spurt in the worst way, to shower her lovely face with streamers of egg flesh.
"Grrrr...." she said, taking cock in her teeth and shaking it like a terrier with a large, bald and earless rat.
I clutched her head, trying to urge just one more nip from her, just one more thrill, just enough to put me over the hump. But she dropped my cock and let it bounce against her cheek, letting the dribbling bulb smear hot gunk on her face. She looked up at me serenely, knowing full well that every time she brought me to the brink another drop or two was added to the seething Moonship Payload.
"Damn you!" I said.
She smiled sweetly, turned her head a bit and licked a gob of spunk from my slot just as it was about to break loose. "Ummmmm," she said, giving my pudcap a quick suck for good measure. "Are you ready for the Light?"
"Hell, yes!! "
"For the Clear Light of Perfect Truth."
"Arrrrgh!"
"Prepare for countdown! Prepare for Glory!" She looked up at me with merry eyes, curled back her upper lip, and sank her teeth into the enraged bulb.
LIFTOFF!! !
I reached for Sister Marjorie's ears, flicks of flapping snow geese exiting my ass-hole, cock muscles flexing, sending hot gobs spurting up the narrow tube. I would no longer be denied. I used her mouth ruthlessly, slogging every inch of my bubbling cock down her throat. She held her eyes tightly closed and took it, cheeks fluttering as she sucked, loving every gullet-busting lunge. Her lips bashed against the wide root of my cock, making a sloppy, sputter-fart sound like a pussy in mid-orgasm.
As the first spritz of come left my cock, I pinned her face to my groin, lips to cockroot, rubbing my bush into her eyes, nose, cheeks, and my balls into her chin. Rotating my hips in a slow circle, I gave her what she wanted: hot sperm.
She whinnied ecstatically as the initial volley washed over her esophagus and backed up into her throat, her palate. Adam's apple bobbing, she fought to keep up with the sticky tide.
There was lots more where that came from. Buckets and buckets. Blinded by fuck-fury, I hunkered over her head and snapped my hips as pulse after high pressure pulse sent teeming goo spurting into her.
Her lips were a perfect oval seal, sliding up and down my orgasming shaft, keeping all the man chowder trapped within. Greedy bitch! Then her grip suddenly weakened, she choked, her lips faltered and a gout of slobber-come mixture welled from her mouth.
"Mmmmmmurrpl," she gurgled as the hot stuff rushed over her chin, streamed down the front of her lovely neck, ran in rivulets of glistening white over her bountiful tits, her stiff black nipples, trickling down her deep cleavage.
I pumped and pumped but the keen edge of my pleasure was already fading. My entire body tingled with the after glow of orgasm. I felt like a thoroughly used, rolled up tube of toothpaste.
Sister Marjorie allowed my rapidly wilting dick to slip from her lips. She sat back on her heels, panting, reveling in the sperm bath I'd given her. She cupped the heavy domes of her slick tits and squeezed them, making them flatten up against her chest. "Ooooh, Brother," she cooed, ecstatically, "did you see the Light?"
The way she kneaded her come-drenched jugs was mindbending. "Yes, yes, I think I did, Sister," I said.
"Oh, I know you did," she assured me. "Will you cast off the shackles of Terra, the lust for things, the illusion of progress, and soar with us? Will you come to love in the House of Luna?"
I licked my dry lips. "Are all your services to ... uh, physical?"
"The body is the reflection of the spirit...."
"Of course. But ... well ... I need some time to think this over."
"You will join us," she said, rising from her knees. Her pussy actually hung open, puffy red lips pouting from the black fuzz, shining with musky lubricant. "I know it. Even now you walk in Moonlight."
As much as I wanted to bury my Moonship in the blazing Truth of her Crater, I zipped up and excused myself from further religious rites. Before I joined this bunch of sex-crazed kooks, I had to find out a bit more about its founder, the bald Dutchman, den Err, so I paid a call on the turkey who got me involved in the case, my old buddyroo, Detective Ramon.
When I walked into his tiny office, he gave me his usual cheery greeting: "Goddammit! The fucking toilet must be backing up again!! Look what floated in under the door ... Badass Bascom!"
Since he had the muzzle of his .357 Magnum crammed against the base of my skull, I submitted to the inevitable "up against the wall and spread 'em" routine which was a thinly veiled excuse for him to get in a few kidney jabs.
"All right, Dirtbag," the hatchet-faced man snarled, turning me around. I swear he wore that grimy, olive green snap brim hat to bed. "What can I do for you today? A nice Murder One rap?"
I very gently pushed the barrel of his Magnum out from under my nose. "I just wanted to thank you for sending me the business . . .you know, that Knutsen broad...."
Ramon smirked. "I figured you'd be dumb enough to get involved with that kinky bitch! Go ahead, try and dirty the rep of a respected religious leader and humanitarian and I'll personally get your ticket pulled, Badass."
"Tell me about this 'respected religious leader.' Wasn't he a realtor before he started this Lunie scam?"
"And you get paid to investigate!" he sniggered. "Sigmund den Err was formerly the Assistant Tax Assessor over in Langousta. And, for your information, his Lunie Movement is making a hell of an impact on the Inner City ... those Urban Relief Centers and the work with runaway girls, keeping them off the streets. I can't say enough for the man. And I'm warning you, Dirtbag, fuck with him and I'll fuck with you."
"So he's really on the up and up?"
Ramon grinned, showing me his nicotine-stained teeth. "Look, Moron, would I let my own teenage daughter, Marjorie, work for him if he wasn't?"
I got out of his office as fast as my legs would carry me.
"Hey, Dirtbag!" he hollered after me. "What's so goddam funny?"
CHAPTER THREE
Detective Ramon obviously didn't know his ass from his elbow. He hadn't the faintest idea where his darling daughter was at ... rubbing hot come slobber over her big, soft, chicana titties ... and he was completely ignorant of the bizarre religious practices ... exhibitionism and cocksucking, for openers ... of his "great humanitarian." And, there was no way he, personally, could get my P.I. license yanked. He just didn't have that kind of pull in the Department. The worst he could do would be to shoot me during a "routine shakedown."
Big deal.
I wanted to get to the bottom of this Lunia scam ... not for Mrs. Knutsen, but for me. There's nothing more putrid in my book than a religious huckster and Sigmund den Err stank to high heaven. If the Dutch turkey was going to get himself martyred, yours truly was going to supply the spikes and the day labor.
Marjorie Ramon insisted on accompanying me to the Lunie mansion. She said she wouldn't get "credit" for my conversion unless she brought me in. Conversion was really a hot number with the Children of Luna ... browning points with Mother Moon or something. And the way she carried on in the car, they measured the success of their recruitment by the inch.
"Brother Grue," she chirped merrily, "you are one of the largest males to find the moonlit path."
I couldn't resist. "You mean my Moonship, huh?"
The Sister said nothing but her eyes gleamed.
It was answer enough for me. They worshipped the Almighty Weenie, too. It all fit together in a sort of demented way. Without a doubt she was a stone cuckoo, but Jeez ... what a sexy psychopath! I kept looking at her and remembering the way she gorged herself on my spunk, the way her fat, sassy, latina cunt puckered at me, begging for a fuck.
"If it is the will of Luna," she rambled on, "perhaps I will be exalted to the Third Bardo."
"Hey, I really hope so," I said, turning the Cougar onto Hyde Street.
The House of Luna occupied an entire corner of a block in a hilly part of the city. It was a great, hideous, five story, pink stucco cube that looked like it'd been extruded, thrust up out of the depths of the earth to cover most of the steep hillside. Surrounding it were tall, narrow, Victorian houses in varying states of disrepair.
"Leave the keys in the ignition, Brother Grue," she said as she got out of the car. "You won't be needing them anymore."
Swell. I did as she asked and then followed her up the steep cement steps to the broad slab of cement that was the veranda. Overhead was an arbor of whitewashed beams; along the edge of the porch were large Grecian urns, also cement, filled with geraniums.
Marjorie knocked on the double front door and it was answered by a man in his early twenties. He looked like your typical State College grad: flashy Robert Hall double-knit suit with flared cuff's, Kinney high fashion wingtip platform shoes, a fifteen dollar hairstyle of the enraged hedgehog variety, and a grotesquely large gold and ruby Class Ring.
"Hello there, Brother," he said, pumping my hand like an insurance salesman. "I'm Brother Bruckner. Sister Marjorie has told me so much about you ... uh ... Brother ... uh...
"Grue," I said. I wondered how he could smile that like without cracking all his teeth?
"Yes, Brother Grue," he said, pumping with renewed vigor. "Please come in and we'll get the formalities out of the way as quickly as possible."
We were led into the cool confines of the mansion. The ceilings were quite high, the floors were polished hardwood, and the activity was manic. All the rooms of the ground floor had been transformed into offices. Typewriters clattered, telephones rang, and girls in short skirts scurried about bearing sheaves of legal size documents.
Bruckner, seeing my amazement at the comings and goings, said, "We are a busy bunch here. No doubt about it. When you have an organization the size of ours, you need an incredible amount of administrative personnel. We handle all the finances, the publicity, the philanthropic disbursements right here."
"Ummm," I said. The place looked more like a thriving mail order business than a religious retreat. "Are all these people Children of Luna?"
Bruckner led us into an airy office that once had been a huge bathroom. "Of course," he said, taking a seat behind his desk which was beside a sunken, oval bathtub. "Everyone in our order does his or her share, right, Sister Marjorie?"
Marjorie nodded briskly; her eyes once more assumed the proportions of Ding Dongs.
"Did you bring the various documents and papers that were requested of you?" Bruckner asked.
I reached in my coat pocket and took out the wad of paper that represented my entire net worth: my bank book, my check book, a few stocks and bonds, the pink slip on the Cougar, and my life insurance policy. I handed the stuff to Bruckner.
"Very good. Very good," he said, shooting a quick look at my bank balance. "Now you must sign these papers...."
Even in fun, it was hard giving everything I had to these turkeys. I say "fun," because none of the aforementioned documents were worth shit ... all were forgeries.
"I don't see why it's necessary for me to give everything away before I even find out what your faith is all about," I protested.
Bruckner shot Marjorie a glance that dripped acid. "But it was explained to you," he said patronizingly, "that such an act of good faith was a prerequisite to admission to the roll of candidates, was it not?"
"Yes, of course."
Bruckner pushed up from his desk, shoving the papers back into my hand, steering me to the door with the finesse of a professional car salesman about to set the hook. "I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Grue, but we haven't the time to spend on people who don't know what they want, people who aren't truly committed to joining our order."
"Hey! Wait a minute!" I said, as he knew I would. "Hold on! I'm as committed as the next guy. What's wrong, aren't I good enough to join? That's it, isn't it?"
"Now I never said that," Bruckner said, allowing me to re-enter the room, reaching behind his back for the transfer of title forms.
"Gimme those papers!" I said. "Where do I sign?"
Bruckner crammed the pen in my hand and relieved me of bank book, stock certificates, etc., etc.
"Very good," he said, depositing the signed transfers in a floor safe. "Now we will begin preparing you for your induction to the Children of Luna."
"Hey, I'm ready right now...."
"No, Brother Grue," he said, smiling broadly. "No, you aren't. We must abide by the ritual of the order. Your spirit must be cleansed. Sister Marjorie, will you lead the way?"
She led the three of us down the corridor to what looked like a pair of elevator doors. I say "Looked" because there was no "Up" or "Down" button, only a narrow slot in the center of a small metal rectangle on the wall. Marjorie took from her purse a credit card with a lot of holes punched in it. When she slipped the card in the slot, the elevator doors opened.
"You are very security conscious here," I said, stepping in.
"No," Bruckner said, "we just like to keep the sacred separated from the profane...." He punched a button and we rode up one floor. The elevator stopped but the doors remained closed.
"On the other side," he explained, "is the purification chamber. Beyond it are the Halls of Luna. To pass on to the Clear Light of the Inner Cloister, you must first be cleansed." He pushed another button and the doors parted.
I started to take a step forward, but caught myself in mid-stride when I saw the furnishings of the "purification chamber." The room was painted flat black and from rings in the ceiling dangled a pair of heavy iron manacles. A similar pair of ankle restraints, lay on the floor to which they were fastened. All along the walls were racks containing various styles of whips, quirts, martinets, crops.
"Hey, now just a goddam...." I began, turning to face Bruckner. Then the ceiling fell in on me.
When I came to, it was later and I had a bad headache, but that was the least of my worries. Somewhere along the line I had lost every scrap of clothing I'd had on and I was unable to touch the ground with my toes. My wrists were locked into the manacles that hung from the ceiling and my entire weight was suspended on them. My ankles were also chained. To say I was uncomfortable would be the understatement of the century.
"Feeling better, Brother Grue?" Bruckner asked.
He had traded his Robert Hall suit for a men's version of the monk's robe Marjorie had modeled for me in the Urban Relief Center. In the lower cut out triangle, his immense, but soft cock, and a pair of bubble gum pink balls dangled freely. Over his eyes and nose he wore a black mask like the ones in the blackmail picture.
"Yeah, just wonderful," I said, trying to twist around. I could hear the clatter of high heels on the floor, and the swishing of many robes. With a monumental effort I managed to swing myself so I faced the incoming hordes. In so doing I crossed both my arms and legs. "What is this?" I demanded.
"These," he said, gesturing at the line of foxy young women filing into the room, all clad in the revealing monk's robes, tits and pussies everywhere, "are the candidates who will assist in your purification." His eyes blinked behind the mask. "Sister Marjorie was right," he said. "That's quite a Moonship you have there. She'll make Third Bardo for sure."
"Congratulate her for me," I said, feeling all those sexy female eyes crawling over my groin.
"Candidates!" he said to the milling women. "Your scourges!"
The robed broads began taking the whips down from the wall racks and getting the feel of them, cracking them in the air.
"Bruckner! You said this was a 'spiritual' cleansing," I yelled over the din.
The masked hedgehog grinned at me. "The spirit is the reflection of the body...."
The candidates lined up single file, whips in hands. For some of them it was obviously the first time they'd participated in a flogging ... their faces were pale, their hands trembled, they would not meet my gaze. Others, however, seemed anxious to get on with it ... they kept whapping their palms with the whip handles and their eyes kept dropping to take in my great limp cock.
"By the light...." Bruckner said solemnly.
"BY THE LIGHT...." came the echo of the chorus.
"...of the Waning Moon...."
"...OF THE WANING MOON...."
"...whose most perfect Radiance anoints us
"...WHOSE MOST PERFECT RADIANCE...."
"...we consign this Terran's flesh to Sol, that he may be consumed ... and reborn...."
"...CONSUMED AND REBORN...."
"...a Child of Luna...."
"...CHILD OF LUNA...."
Bruckner then stepped to my side and said softly, "Brother Grue, if you don't turn back around, I'm afraid your Moonship will be permanently grounded."
"Huh?"
"...They will castrate you, whip off your weenie...." I turned around.
"Heeeee-yahhh!" howled a female behind me. There was a clicking of high heels running on hardwood, and the swoosh of a heavy bull whip being flung back.
TTTHHHWWWAAK!
Tanned leather exploded into my right buttock. I was aghast at the pain! It was like nothing I'd ever experienced and it was a thousand times worse than what I figured these broads could dish out. It was like a red hot spike had been driven into the flesh of my ass. A galvanic shock of agony lanced through me and I jerked uncontrollably from my chains. The horrible ache began to spread down the backs of my legs.
"Aieeee!" cried the next bitch in line. Heels clattered, there was a grunting noise. SSSSWWWOOSH-PPPOCKT! "Uhhh!! ! " I groaned involuntarily as my other butt-cheek leaped from the power of the blow. The searing pain shot into muscle and bone. "Yeee!" came the whoop of sadistic gleee. SSSSWWWOOOSH-KRAK! The whip tip impacted between my clenched ass-cheeks, right above my bunghole, and all I could think of was "Go!! ! Get away!" I shrieked and tried to climb my chains, to evade the hurt that was inescapable. When it hit me, my arms went to jelly and I just let go of the chains and dropped, falling to the end of their length, coming to an abrupt halt that nearly popped my arms from their sockets.
The hair-raising cries of enthusiasm blended into one, long, gut wrenching howl. The staccato clicking of running feet in high heels was a constant underpinning to the hiss, to the smacking impact of leather on my swelling flesh. Even as I jerked about, a puppet animated by their blows, I was certain that I was being horribly maimed, that my buttocks hung down the backs of my thighs in long, bloody tatters. I started yelling at the top of my lungs; I rattled my chains; I pleaded for mercy ... but they would not stop. Something hot and wet splashed on my foot. Piss? Blood?
I opened my eyes and saw them huddled in front of me, the ones who had taken their turn. They were smiling. Smiling!
SSSSWWWOOSH-SMMMAKK!
I jerked spastically and a red haze lowered over my eyes but I could still see them grinning at me, see them openly fondling each other. Their hands squeezing titty, slipping down over bare tummy, down between slim thighs, fingers diving between puffy sex lips, drawing forth heady brew.
SSSSWWWOOSH-WH HUPP!
I shuddered but that one didn't hurt so bad. Had I managed to compartmentalize my agony? Had I shut it off in another part of my mind? Or had they simply destroyed all the nerves in my ass?
SSSSWWWOOSH-SSSPATT!
Oooh, such a warm and wonderful feeling spreading over my abused backside, spreading to engulf my balls, to creep up my flaccid cock. And a tension, there, between my legs, growing suddenly. My cock surged to life, flailing in the air like the trunk of a ancient elephant. SSSSWWWOOSH...
I flinched horribly in anticipation of the impact that would never come ... much to the amusement of the masturbating, tongue sucking girls. But my cock, if anything, got harder and longer, arching up from my sweat-drenched pube nest like a great pink banana.
"Purged of darkness...." Bruckner bellowed to the moaning women.
"PURGED OF DARKNESS...."
"...Bathed in Light...."
"BATHED IN LIGHT...."
The crazy lesbian caresses stopped and the candidates formed another queue ... this time in front of me. The first girl in line, a foxy looking black chick with a big natural, great soft lips, and a shaggy bush between her thighs, stepped forward. Her bare brown boobs moved independently, one black nipple moving up and down, the other left to right.-
Much to my amazement and delight, she grabbed hold of my rigid pecker just behind the head, bent the bloated snout way down, opened her mouth and gave me a ball wrenching slurp of the tongue across my nerve bundle. She lingered over my cap, cupping her dark red tongue and swirling it over the blind face. The heat of her mouth, the pebbly, moist surface of her tongue, sent shivers of pleasure speeding up my spine. She smacked her lips, savoring the flavor of my cock head ... and then she was gone.
The girl who rushed to take her place couldn't have been more than sixteen. She was blonde, blue-eyed and freckled, and her high little titties were capped by soft pink buds. She looked like a half naked pixy, but the skillful way she handled my prick would've blown Tinker Bell's mind. She grabbed it by the thick, hairy base and dragged the head down from where it thumped against my sternum and stuffed the whole thing down her throat. Right off, her cheeks went concave as she applied suction to my buried cock. What a kick! She had so damn much of my cock inside her that I swear I could feel her heart beat through the head of my pud. Her jaws looked like they were about to dislocate, her lips were stretched drum-tight about the greasy shaft, but she didn't gag and she did give me a couple of marvelous, tip to root throat thrusts before she let my raging bulb pop from her lips.
I blinked my eyes and zowee! There was another hot young bitch fastened on to my meat. This one was real skinny, with little beesting tits and long brown hair on her head and her twat. She somehow managed to cram both of my nuts in her mouth and while she sucked on them, moaning like a kicked Whippet, she slogged my slobbery cock through her clenched fist.
Lordy! I was just getting into the hum job, tossing my hips so her fist would move faster over my meat, when she was replaced by a pair of Chinese teenagers with heavy breasts and dark brown nipples and practically hairless pussies, who shared my cock between them. They trapped the juicy, oozing bulb between their open mouths and proceeded to french each other around it. Little pointed pink tongues lashed over my cap, ivory cheeks hollowed as lips gave suck, fingers tugged gently, hopefully at my tightening balls.
And then they were gone. They backed away from my flexing tool and a redhead with huge, droopy tits came at it with an open mouth. My rod shot straight down her throat, and she began twisting her head and bobbing her neck frantically, trying to bring me off. She was not alone. Hungry mouths were at my nuts ... hot lips kissing the fragrant skin, mouths sucking the tender orbs, laving the hairy peach seeds with slobbery tongues.
I watched her diving, drool-drenched lips, watched the hunger in her eyes for my salty seepage and I wanted to shoot cream over her face, to bathe her in the bubbling Radiance of my egg-flesh.
But she was no longer there, no constricting ring of lips about my pudcap, and her companions had left my slobbery balls as well. But there were more, always more febrile young bitches closing in, stroking, licking sucking, swallowing. And soon all sense of order in the proceedings dissolved. The wild-eyed females surrounded my throbbing bone, faces pressed together, cheek-to-cheek, fighting for the privilege of applying tongue tip to my dicksnout, to my nerve bundle, to my hairy bag. Hot lips, failing to find a place to lick dick, veered off, to smooch the inside of my thighs, my knees, to thrust juicy probes between my bare toes.
"OOOOOH!" I groaned, shuddering in my chains, as the girl mouths found my pore, fingers spreading my lacerated cheeks, hot tongues swirling, lashing over my flexing anus.
It was the straw that broke the camel's back. My hips jerked ... not from agony, but from joy ... and my cock lurched up, out of the tongue reach of the moaning girls. Scads of flying creatures exited my pore, flapping wings amid the brisk bursts of fetid air I let escape to signal my ecstasy.
A comet of white goo erupted from the head of my cock, hurtling high in the air. Come joy lambasted my brain pan and another spurt followed the first ... and another ... and another. Hot spunk reaching apogee five inches from the ceiling. Orbit decaying. Gobs falling back, trailing great milky tails of less viscous stuff. Falling, falling, to splatter upon the upturned and open-mouthed faces of the candidates.
God, how they groaned and whimpered as the sticky white rain fell to their taste buds, festooning their eyes, ears, cheeks, chins! And I wanted my spurt to keep on coming, my orgasm to go on forever. I wanted to drown them all in sperm.
When the tremors finally subsided, the girls threw themselves on my groin, licking up the sticky aftermath. Bruckner practically had to beat them off me.
He looked at the slobber-sodden mass of my pubes and my stiff but dripping pud and grinned. Then he looked up at me and said, "How do you like it so far, Brother Grue?"
CHAPTER FOUR
"I'd like it a hell of a lot better if you'd get me out of these chains, Brother Bruckner," I said.
He ordered the girls to get me down, a task which they performed not without a lot of heavy dick groping and ass goosing. When I had my land legs again, he handed me a monk's robe of my very own and a black mask like his.
I put on the habit. Shoo-wee, it was strange as hell wearing that thing. All your goodies hanging out there in the open. Drafty as hell. But with a hot and horny crew like the candidates around, I could see how maximal access was the name of the game.
"If you will follow me," he said, "I will lead you to the men's quarters."
Now that was more than a little weird. "You mean the boys don't get to sleep with the girls?" I asked incredulously.
Bruckner opened a double door and led the way down a stark white corridor. "No, they don't!" he said emphatically. "His Radiance, in his perfect wisdom, has given us certain rules of conduct that you would be wise to commit to memory. First of all, up here in the Halls of Luna there is to be absolutely no contact between the sexes."
I swallowed hard.
"They are to maintain separate sleeping, dining and work areas. The only time heterosexual contact is allowed is during the Service of the Waning Moon, when male and female worship
Mother Moon together, and during the meditation hour which immediately follows it."
"Uh, what time does all this start?" I said, not really giving a damn, but wanting to keep him talking while I did some quick recon.
"The Service will begin very shortly. I'm sure you'll find it a moving experience," he said.
The inside of the building was all screwy. Or he'd been walking me around in circles. I was sure we'd already gone much further than was possible without re-crossing out path. Damn, everything looked the same! White walls, windows with opaque glass, closed doors, right angle turns. There wasn't a single picture, a calendar, a fucking nail hole anywhere.
"During this meditation hour, we're all on our own, right?" I asked.
"With a Moonship like that," Bruckner chortled, "don't count on having much time to contemplate the eternal verities, Brother Grue." He stopped in front of a door that looked like all the rest. "This is your room." He pushed open the door and showed me a small dormitory type room, white walls, opaque windows, and three tiers of bunk beds. The room otherwise was empty.
"Looks fine to me," I said. "But how am I ever going to find it again?"
"He who walks in moonlight is never lost," he said.
"Huh?"
"No time to explain now," he said, closing the door. "We must hurry to the Meeting Hall or we'll miss the benediction."
With that, he grabbed hold of the sleeve of my robe and hauled me back down the bleak corridors. The place had a definite hospital-cwm-greenhouse feeling to it. Every time we rounded a corner I fully expected to see a nurse in starched whites come barreling at us pushing a stainless steel gurney piled high with steaming compost.
After a bit we began to run into other cult members on their way to the Service. They were all male. It wasn't until we entered the actual Meeting Hall that we saw any women. Evidently the floor plan of the place was divided up so that each sex had an entire wing to itself and His Radiance's non-fraternization rules were followed to the letter.
The Meeting Hall was a large, high-ceilinged room, probably at one time a small bathroom. Set high above the floor in the far wall was a stage shrouded by a royal blue curtain. In front of the curtain was a low, marble altar; there were metal rings mounted on all four corners. On the floor of the room there were no chairs or seating facilities of any kind. The faithful were packed in shoulder to shoulder ... at least three hundred strong. Men and women mixed and groped freely.
I tried my best to keep a look out for Hildy Knutsen, but it wasn't easy to concentrate. The candidate who stood in front of me, a cute little girl of about fifteen with the tightest baby fat buns you'd ever want to sink your tongue between, took a giant step backwards and gave my crank a yank, rubbing the soft head in under her ass, between her thighs, over the very entrance to her fuzzy little twat.
"Oooh!" she said. "Do you have a partner for meditation yet, Brother?" She spread her long legs and tried to whip some bone into my prick while attempting to stuff it up her dainty pussy.
She had me hard and panting before you could say "Moon Pie," but even when she bent way down and touched her toes, giving me primo access to her hot little slit, I couldn't get the cap in. It was like trying to shove a two by four up a rat's ass: a physical impossibility.
"Excuse me, Sister," said a young stud standing next to me, "but you know you're supposed to wait until after the Service for that."
The girl blushed furiously, released me and quickly disappeared into the milling crowd.
"You have to take it easy at first, Brother," he told me. He was about twenty-five, tall, dark and somewhat longish hair, and he had a wiry build like a track athlete. He was built like me in the crotch department: monstrous.
"You could tell I was green, huh?" I said.
"Yep, just by how hot you were to get your sausage wet. You've got to lay back if you want to survive around here. Those young cunts especially ... they'll fuck you silly, until your balls shrivel up, if you let them. My name's Brother Slaney, by the way."
"Grue. Brother Grue," I said. There was something about the way this Slaney carried himself that I liked ... he was on top of things, together. He seemed oddly aloof, alert, even wary in the face of all the manic dick pulling and pussy twiddling that was going on. I wondered what the hell he was doing there. He certainly didn't seem like the type who'd go ga-ga over all that Moon rubbish.
"Glad to meet you, Brother Grue," he said, shaking my hand. "And what did you do for a living before you stumbled in here?"
"I was an accountant," I said.
"Hell of a grip for an accountant," he said, wincing.
"It comes from holding other people's money," I said. "What line were you in?"
"I used to sell new cars."
He didn't look like any car salesman to me. Too damn lean, too cold around the eyes. My first guess would've been: freelance hit man. I was about to delve into his background further when a hush fell over the crowd. The Service was beginning.
Mondo Bizarro! The curtains parted and three figures came out onto the stage. Two males in heat, and one, nude female in abject terror. The girl was maybe sixteen years old; she had skin the color of chocolate and a medium length afro. She writhed in the grip of the masked, robed men, but they held her wrists very tight and all she succeeded in doing was to make her nubile body wriggle delectably. She had perfect, high, Hershey Kisses for tits; they were so firm and conical that they looked as if they'd been inflated. Her waist was very tiny and her hips were slim and girlish. Between her thighs there was a bit of perfunctory fuzz and a plump mound divided by a single, dark brown slit.
Using brute force, the men shoved her down on her back on the marble altar. While one held her shoulders pinned, his hard on thumping into her forehead, the other set about fastening her to the metal rings with chains that could've restrained a rhino. When they were through, the girl was held spread-legged and vulnerable. She rattled her chains a bit, then seeing the futility in that, she just lay there breathing raggedly and sobbing.
The stagehands, their puds drooling white scuz, then turned the altar on a pivot like a huge Lazy Susan, aiming the black girl's bare and spread pussy towards the crowd.
The "Oooooh's" and "Ahhhh's" were deafening.
All three hundred of us could see everything she had. The sleek inner thighs, the rounded double curves of her buns, the wrinkled winking eye of ebony that was her pore, and, right between her legs, under the canopy of kinky fur, a single gully that split her fat pudenda from clit to pussy mouth.
The audience's hubbub frightened her even more because she began to twist and shake, making her pussy lips, soft brown flaps, contort marvelously.
Then there came the sound of a half dozen trumpets, obviously on tape, playing a strident fanfare and the curtains parted. The crowd went wild; the entire room seemed to shudder as hundreds of feet stamped their approval.
It was Sigmund den Err who stepped onto the stage. No doubt about it. I'd know that bald pate, those throwback brows, that greasy black goatee anywhere. He was much bigger than I thought, though. Close to six foot four and well over three hundred pounds. He had rolls of oleaginous flab where his skull joined his thick neck. He also had an incredibly large hard on. I mean, it was unreal. It looked like an enraged fire hose with a Macintosh apple for a head. He wore the same style robe as everyone else except that his was emblazoned with large five-pointed stars. He might've been bald, but he had no dearth of curly black pubic hair. It hung in swatches from his bloated scrotum and there was a large tuft just above the base of his great whang.
His thick lips split into a lewd grin as he surveyed his wildly applauding flock. He raised his hands for silence and got it, instantly.
"Gathered be We," he said, his voice a rich baritone, "to celebrate the Radiance, to pay homage to the Reflection of that Most Perfect Truth which brings fulfillment."
He stepped up to the altar. The girl tried to shrink away from him but her chains held her in place. Den Err touched a hidden switch in the floor of the stage and the altar raised silently to a height just below his barrel chest. Then he put both his hands upon her naked body, leaning on the altar with all the sanctimoniousness of a Des Moines parson. He freely fondled her firm tits, letting his fingers glide down over her heaving tummy, down into the fork of her crotch.
The girl shuddered uncontrollably and tried to sit up, her eyes as big as doorknobs.
"Luna be praised!" he said.
"LUNA BE PRAISED!! " came the ritual reply.
His thick pale fingers were at the apex of her slit, twiddling, fiddling, spreading the heavy lips, peeling them back like the petals of a flower.
"Noooo!" the girl whimpered, shaking her chains, shifting her hips, trying to rid herself of the delving digits.
"What is the Truth?" he asked the throng, all the while busy with the girl's pussy, folding her labia back, exposing the dark red inner lips and a clit that was fully an inch long and shiny with her musky cuntstuff.
"THE LIGHT!" shouted the faithful.
"And the Light?"
"A REFLECTION!"
"And the Reflection?"
"A REFLECTION!"
"Mirrors facing mirrors, replication without end," he intoned, hooking his index finger over the band of smooth skin between pussy and anus, tickling her ass-hole and rubbing her clit simultaneously, "until the End of Time."
The hot, juicy flesh under his fingertips was having a decided effect on den Err's state of mind. He spoke thickly and with difficulty; his nostrils were widely dilated from the keen foxy odor of bitch in heat that wafted up to him.
Then, much to the delight of the crowd, he hoisted his bulk up on the altar, straddling the bound girl, kneeling so that he faced the audience and her open cunt, so that his large, hairy behind hung just above her panicked face.
"We bathe...." he said, licking his lips, looking down at the sweet, yearning brown fork. "WE BATHE...."
"...in the Light of the Waning Moon...."
"...WANING MOON...."
The stagehands, responding to the cue, quickly stepped up and turned the altar. We were all suddenly looking at den Err's bare-ass, hairy overweight cheeks, white and pale, his deep and hairy crack, his wizened, winking, ochre pore, and, hanging a full six inches below, the bumpy yellow brown sack that held his swollen, kidney shaped orbs.
"We bathe in the...." he began, his ass wagging lewdly.
"...LIGHT OF THE WANING MOON...." hollered the throng.
Den Err then dropped his rear on the girl's upturned face, pinning her head to the altar, grinding her nose, her mouth into his nasty cleavage. Her hands and feet began kicking frantically.
"Most Perfect...." he groaned, rubbing his ass-hole over her fat lips.
"...LIGHT OF THE WANING MOON
The girl's struggles got weaker, as if she were suffocating. And the stagehands rotated the altar one hundred and eighty degrees. Den Err bent down, slipping his arms behind her thighs, locking the backs of her knees in his hairy armpits, bending her legs way back, showing the crowd her swollen cunt and blinking bunghole.
"We walk in...." he hissed, burying his face, his tongue in her snatch.
"...THE LIGHT OF THE WANING MOON...."
He gobbled her twat, slobbering over the hot petals, sliding his long pale tongue into the juicy brown gully, swirling it over her tight little ass-hole. And his rear end was moving up and down in a gross humping action. The girl stopped fighting him and her sleek hips began to shift ever so slightly, to rise to the hungry tongue thrusts that slipped over clit and pisser, pussy entrance and poopchute.
Once again the stagehands turned the altar.
A roar went up from the assembly. Den Err's ass rose and fell, pore winking, only to be met by the puckered, smooching lips, the waggling red tongue of the captive Brown Sugar. She was actually licking his anus ... and loving it!
There were loud shouts of "Gloriana!" and "Praised be Luna!"
Den Err took his mouth from her slippery pussy and sat back, pressing his sphincter to her mouth. She lay there limp, her cheeks puffing in and out as she thrust her tongue up high into his rectum. He waved his hands in the air, his dick thumped against his chest.
"No, Children of Luna," he said, "this is no miracle. It is merely Truth. Truth that all may share. Truth that sets us free."
The lackeys then helped their high priest unplug himself from her thrusting tongue and dismount the altar. The crowd went berserk as the helpers poured two jugs of hot, clear oil over the head Lunie's bulging sex parts. Den Err wrapped his fist about the slippery shaft and pumped himself. His meat glimmered dazzlingly under the stage lights.
Pandemonium broke loose as the gross man stepped between the black girl's thighs, immense cock in hand.
"All systems go?" he shouted, masturbating at a wild pace.
"A-OK!! ! " cried his followers.
"Prepare to launch!! " He rubbed the slick head of his dick into her gaping gash. He was way too big for her. His huge bulb dwarfed even her thighs.
"PREPARE TO LAUNCH!"
"Countdown!"
"TEN...."
"I commit this Moonship to the glory of Perfect Truth!"
"...NINE...."
The angry red bulb slipped down into the dainty love pocket. "Uhhh!" he groaned, flipping his hips, driving the broad head into her body, and taking with it most of her external sexmeat, her clitoris and both pairs of labia.
"YEEEEE!" she wailed.
"...EIGHT...." moaned the crowd, urging their leader to make another violent thrust.
"Uhhhhh!" he grunted, white ass bobbing, pot belly jiggling, thick cock ramming in a tad further, turning the kinky fuzz and the brown petals outside in.
"OWWWWW!! " she screeched, arms and legs flailing.
"...SEVEN...." urged the crowd, leaning towards the stage en masse, a sea of up-thrust fists.
Den Err pulled back a bit, letting the slick seepage of her pussy rush over the head of his cock. Then he attacked with renewed vigor, snapping his hips furiously.
"...SIX ... FIVE ... FOUR...."
"Uhhhh! Uhhhh! Uhhhh!" he cried, his balls slapping into her ass-hole as he lunged.
"UH-HEEEEE! UH-HEEEEE!" she screamed as the thick tool drilled into her, as the great red bulb bored into her hole.
"...THREE...."
"Uhhhhhh!"
Bloated cap swallowed by hungry brown lips; thick shaft slowly pushing deeper. "YEEEEEEEE."
"...TWO...."
"Uhhhhh!"
Red rod stopping, held back by the thin membrane. Hips raring back. "NOOOOOOO."
"...ONE...."
"Arrrrgh!" he growled, snapping his ass in a blur. The greasy pole stabbed, a meat piston slamming against the drumhead.
"AAAHHHHH!" she bawled as the rigid prick took her cherry and kept right on sliding up her tight, virginal vagina.
"...LIFTOFF!! ! ! " Everyone was shouting and jumping up and down and the girl's little cat face was screwed up from the pain of the brisk reaming den Err was giving her. He fucked the daylights out of her, like she was some cheap tart with a mile wide cunt. And how the bastard drooled! Christ, he slobbered all over her, face, tits, belly. All the while, slamming that pile driver up her tight twat.
Just when den Err had got her going, when she'd begun to toss her hips up to meet his brutal thrusts, when her pussy had begun to sputter and fart exuberantly about his plunging shaft, he started to come. Instead of shooting his load up inside her hot pussy, he jerked his glistening choad from her depths ... much to her dismay ... and let the slimy thing flop about on her sweaty tummy.
"OH, GOD!" she cried in disgust as the bearded man's dripping cock began to spurt sizzling white goo all over her brown belly, her bobbing tits, her smooth throat.
Den Err sniggered and dumped his entire payload, amid the cheers of his fans. The sticky stuff pooled in her navel and trickled down over the sides of her rib cage. It billowed over her nipples and gushed up her cleavage. When his spasming stopped, he climbed down from the altar and wiped his cock off on the poor girl's hair.
The two stagehands began to walk among the true believers. They carried huge goblets of red wine that must've held ten gallons. Each person got a hearty swig. The stuff was heavily spiced and there was a bitter, metallic aftertaste.
"Celebrate! The meditation hour has begun!" Den Err shouted over the din. Then he disappeared behind the curtain and left the Children of Luna to amuse and divert themselves.
CHAPTER FIVE
All around me the cult members threw off the shackles of middle class morality. In less than a minute it was orgy-porgy everywhere. Couples, trios, quartets fell to the floor and began to squirm. Both wine and sperm spilled freely as thighs parted, buttocks spread, fingers dipped, tongues swirled, cocks lunged, pussies yielded, and the room reverberated in juicy, sputtering hump sounds. The stench of broached cunt and poop-chute, of sweating gonads was unbelievable ... like a den of foxes in heat.
A pretty girl with long, shiny brown hair and crazed blue eyes came at Slaney and myself. She had big soft titties and nipples so pale that it was only by the satiny gleam of her aureolas that one could tell she had any buds at all. Her nose was upturned and all around her full pink lips was a red ring, a smear of hastily swallowed wine. Her cunt hair was brown, too, a neat triangle of curly fur that shadowed the pale pink lips of her slit.
"Feel the spirit, Brothers?" she moaned, snatching hold of our cocks in her feverish fingers. She rung out our tools so skillfully and with such enthusiasm that we were both rock hard in a matter of seconds.
"What do you say, Brother Grue?" Slaney said, slipping a hand down into her nether fuzz. He gave her rug a tug and she cooed, triple-timing her frantic masturbation.
"Go ahead, you take her, Brother Slaney," I said, my eyes narrowing to slits as the waves of manually induced pleasure raced over my nuts. "There's plenty more where she came from."
"Hey, no," he protested, "I meant why don't we share this bitch? Take my word for it, it'll be easier on the prostate if we split the labor...."
"Look, man, I think I can handle one of these cunts by myself," I said.
"Really?" he said, smirking.
"Ooooh!" I groaned aloud. The head of my prick was plunged into delicious moist heat. I looked down to see Miss No-nipples stuffing my flaring pudcap into her mouth. Jeez! Her cheeks went hollow as she gave me a thorough sucking; then she ripped me loose and swallowed Slaney. Back and forth like a wild thing, cramming man-meat into her face, her fists pumping up and down the throbbing shafts. "All right! All right!" I said. "When in Rome and all that trash, but let's get it on!"
"Uh, Sister," he said to the bobbing head, the diving lips, "is there someplace a bit more private that we could go to have our meditation?"
"Mmmmmm," she said, letting the bulb of my cock pop from her glistening mouth. "Sure. My room." With that she stood up and literally dragged us from the Meeting Hall by our erect cocks.
I could not believe the wild look on her face as she pulled us along. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes burning, and she kept licking and smacking her lips in anticipation of providing a snug harbor for both the rigid dicks she clutched.
"Are all these chicks this hot-to-trot?" I asked. "This one is a pussycat compared to some I've heard about," he said. "Come on!"
"No, really," he went on, "I was rapping with this Brother from Duluth and he told me that His Radiance keeps a bevy of private poontang that are stone ball-breakers. like all of them are over six feet tall, got tits and asses that will not quit, and they run around in black leather hoods and thigh high boots. They're called the 'Wan Furies,' kind of avenging angels. They do all the discipline jobs, the dirty work, and they double as bodyguards up in the penthouse."
"Penthouse?"
"Top floor. Where His Radiance resides."
Miss No-nipples stopped in front of a white door and let go of my cock. She kind of waved her hand over it.
"Hey, what's she doing?"
"Looking for her room number. Show him, Sister."
She held her hand open and showed me an oblong cylinder that looked like a tiny flashlight.
"It's a black light," Slaney said. "All the rooms are marked in fluorescent paint."
"You mean, in case of a raid?" I said.
Slaney gave me a strange look. I could've bit my tongue off. That was not the kind of thing that should have immediately popped into the mind of a devout Child of Luna. I vowed to be more careful. After all, I didn't know this dude. He might even have been a plant, working for den Err.
But then he smiled and said, "If the cops ever crashed this place can you imagine how screwed up they'd get from all these winding hallways and unmarked doors? They'd probably have to send the National Guard in here to rescue them before they starved to death."
The girl opened a door further down the hall and gestured for us to hurry up and join her. She rested her hand on the door jamb and stood on one high heeled, nylon clad leg and lifted her other knee up on a level with her waist. Then, she spread herself wide open ... and I mean, WIDE! From her navel to her ass-hole, she let everything hang out. If her pussy was hairy above her slit, it was practically bald over it. All that brown hair sat on her mound like a pubic toupee. Her pussy lips were pale pink and pouty and just beginning to swell up. Between the thin inner labia something very slick glistened, and then rivulets of clear lubricant began to drip from the nadir of her cunt, to trickle down over her pale buns, her puckering pore.
She didn't have to ask us twice. As we trotted down the hall after her, I started to feel funny. Dizzy, and it was hard to breathe. And then my face got all flushed and I began getting these incredibly powerful arrhythmic flashes. It was like klieg lights were going off inside my skull. I thought for sure I was going to go down, you know, pass out there in the hall, so I leaned against the wall and tried to make it all stop. The feeling sort of migrated over my chest and down to my groin. My nuts began to tingle like crazy and then they started swelling and swelling. And there was this amazing tension in my dick. I tried to walk the few steps down the hall to where Slaney and No-nipples were waiting. Something kept swinging around under my chin and every time I brushed it away, it swung back.
When I got closer to Slaney I could see that he was laughing his head off. The something under my chin that I was trying to bat away was my cock. I couldn't believe it. Never in my entire life had it grown so huge. I mean the head was the size of a baseball and the shaft! Jeez, it looked like a length of three-inch diameter pipe ... totally solid and unyielding. And everything down there throbbed something awful.
"You must've overdosed on the sacramental wine," Slaney said. "Sometimes they don't stir it very well and you can get enough aphrodisiac in one swallow to turn on an entire regiment."
"Doped wine?" I said.
"Don't worry," he reassured me, "the effects go away in a few hours. Look at me."
I did. He was about three times as big in the cock department as he'd been ten minutes ago. If he wasn't worried, then neither was I. And, anyway, along with the enlargement of the membrum virile, I felt a burning desire to hump.
The three of us went into No-nipple's room and she immediately flung herself on her bed and stripped off her robe's sash.
"Ooooh, Brothers!" she moaned. "I am so full of the Spirit tonight. I need Moonship and bad." She clutched her immense soft breasts and began to maul them, squashing them up against her chest and pinching the colorless nipples with a vengeance. With very little effort she managed to get her buds stiff. They even took on a bit of pink color from the flagrant abuse she submitted them to. "I want both of you at once," she cried. "One at each end. I want to feel you thrusting in my cunt and my throat at the same time. Big missiles filling me to the splitting point."
Slaney and I were ready to give her everything she desired and we knelt on the bed, him at the foot, me at the head, cocks thumping against our sternums.
"No!" she protested. First you must bind me, tie me to the bed, make me helpless."
Slaney and I exchanged puzzled looks.
"I want to submit, don't you see? To lend my body totally for the long journey ... just as His Radiance teaches us. I want to be chattel in your hands, the dirt under your feet, an object created solely for the fulfillment of your base needs. I want you to tie me to the bed and rape me until I come and come and come!"
After saying this, she began lashing her own ankles to the frame at the foot of the bed. She tied one foot to one corner and the other one to the other corner, spreading her thighs wide apart, giving Slaney primo access to her pale, juicy gash.
"My wrists!" she begged me, throwing her arms above her head, making her tits undulate upon her chest, rubbing her wrists into the metal frame. "Bind my wrists!"
"Shee-it!" I said, stripping off my own sash and wrapping it around her hand and then the frame. Slaney tossed me his sash and I tied down her other wrist. All the while she was moaning and shifting her ass on the bed, shaking her pussy around in Slaney's face. I didn't see how he could stand it. The smell of bitch-in-heat, a seething odor of musk and sweat and buttfunk, addled my pate and set me to drooling like a dog at breakfast time.
Once her hands were securely fastened to the bedstead, once it was obvious that she was entirely helpless, her general attitude seemed to change. She struggled against the bonds and her eyes grew large and round with fear.
"Unngh!" she grunted, trying to twist her wrists free, also twisting her body delectably, making her tits shudder, her snatch bob and weave, the swollen lips contort.
Slaney knelt on the bed and put a hand on her leg. She shivered at his touch.
"Oh, please don't rape me!" she cried. "Please let me go!"
Slaney's hand slipped up the inside of her thigh. He watched her face carefully as his fingers caressed her knee and the wide part of her thigh where it joined her pelvis, not three inches from her gaping cunt.
"No!" she bawled, trying in vain to close her knees, her thighs, to keep him from touching her pussy. "You bastard! Oooh, you son of a bitch! You make me want to throw up."
Oh, that little twat knew exactly what she was doing. She realized that neither Slaney nor I had the proper attitude for the kind of hump session she craved, the kind of brutal screwing she needed. So, she did everything she could think of to infuriate us, to make us hate her, to make us want to not only penetrate her, but to cause her some mild degree of physical discomfort, to use her as mindless, soulless vessel.
Slaney's fingertips touched her pubic rug. No matter how she writhed, she could not stop him from toying with her soft curls.
"Oh, I suppose this makes you a real man, huh?" she snapped. "A real hung stud?" Her face was mottled with rage. She puckered up and spit on him. Yes, spit on him.
He wiped the saliva from his cheek and dragged his fingers down her gully, down the valley of pouty pussy lips, making the heavy petals come apart even further. He touched a fat, pink nubbin about the size of pencil eraser, her clit.
"Oooooh!" she crooned, her naked hips leaping up from the bed, her eyes closing tight.
"Some responses!" I croaked.
"You ain't seen nothing yet," Slaney said, the expression on his face, deadly serious. Slowly he bent down and kissed the brown toupee.
"Oh, don't do that! Please!" she begged him. "Please, I can't stand it!" But as much as she begged and pleaded, she also scooted down a bit and bent her knees so that her pussy lay wide open for his perusal.
Slaney's mouth smooched over her brush, kissing the fat hummock of skin that was her pudenda. He buried his face in her fur and I could see his red tongue sweep over the hairs.
"No! NO!" she wailed as the juicy, red hot tip lashed over the apex of her gash. "God, you are sick! Leave me alone!" Her hips churned and pumped wildly.
Slaney groaned as the flavor of her copious drizzle slammed into his taste buds. His hands slipped down the backs of her thighs to cup her smooth ass-cheeks and his face dropped down a notch, tongue swirling over the slippery lips, diving between them, searching for and finding the erect nodule.
"YEEEEEE!" she howled, back arching as he licked her clit.
Once he found her button he didn't quit, either. I could see his tongue thrusting, see the outline of it against his cheeks, see the broad red tip lapping at her sexmeat. I could hear the sloppy hot-at-trough sound of his pussy slurping.
And poor No-nipples slipped off into an orgasmic delirium. The whole bed creaked and rattled from the violence of her thrashings. She flipped her hips, driving her cunt into his face, grinding her round buns into his chin, and her hot, slippery nectar smeared all over his mouth, his nose, his cheeks.
"Unff! Unff!" she snorted, her face turning quite red as the fuck fever engulfed her. She waggled her ass from side to side, rubbing her silky thighs against his ears. "OH! OH! Lick it! Lick my buzzer! OH, LUNA!! ! "
Slaney's head moved even lower, his mouth covered the nadir of her cunt, the point where her slippery lips gathered and turned under, the very entrance to her tube. His lips puckered, his cheeks grew full, and then he thrust, making his cheeks go concave, making his tongue slide right up her sloppy cunt.
"UHHHHH!" she wailed, bucking her pubis against his forehead, trying to impale herself further on the limber probe. "Tongue me! Tongue my hot pussy, you bastard!"
The sounds of his tongue slogging and her pussy sputtering were more than I could bear. I knelt on the bed beside her head.
"Come on, you devil!" she hissed at me, waving her tongue about, "Let me have it!"
I ignored her. The fever raging behind my eyes was too strong. I could not consciously play her game. I had to do what my libido dictated. I was a puppet once more, only this time I was a slave to my own glandular secretions. I leaned forward and grabbed her huge tits in my hands. God, they were so soft, so resilient. I kneaded them furiously, oblivious to her moans and groans of pleasure wafting up over my buns. The deep, silky cleavage beckoned to my bloated bulb, offering a snug valley. I crawled up a bit more and, clutching her tits like throw pillows, I trapped my blazing stalk, my swollen knob between them. Then, mashing the jugs together, pinning my cock in the boob gully, I began to flip my hips, driving my tool in and out. The red cap popped out the bottom, causing her tits to jiggle. I squeezed harder, delighting in the thrills that raced up my bone.
She liked it, too. I could tell because of the way she began kissing and licking the inside of my hairy thighs. Hot bitch! I sat back a little and stopped moving my ass. Instead, I slogged her boobs up and down my meat while she strained to lift her head high enough to lick my pendulous scrotum.
Hot tongue tip lashing over the back of my bag, hot lips sucking at my orbs. I shivered in ecstasy.
Slaney's head was gone! From the angle I was viewing him from, it looked like he'd shoved his entire skull to the neck up her pussy. I leaned forward and saw that he'd merely bent way down, pressed the side of his face to the bed and was in the act of licking No-nipple's tight little anus.
That really drove her wild. "Ooooh, spread my cheeks!" she warbled, shaking her hips lewdly. "Get it all!! "
Slaney put his thumbs against her smooth domes and opened her crack, exposing the juicy pinkness of her sphincter. He moaned once and dropped his mouth onto the rosebud, the floral adornment above her winking hole. His tongue swirled round and round the velvety flesh, making her thighs quiver and wringing cry after ecstatic cry from her lips.
I'd had enough of her titties, and enough of her coarse caterwauling. I scooted forward so that my balls slipped down her chin and then I sat down, pinning my ass-hole to her lips.
God, she began tonguing me instantly. Shoving her wet probe deep in my pore and snuffling like a maniac. Her lips sucked at the sensitive ring of my anus as her tongue whipped in and out. The feeling was fantastic! Unbelievable! My cock spewed dollops of thick pre-come all over her tits and I knew I had to get inside her ... somewhere.
Slaney had the same thought. He rose from her buns and scooted into fucking position between her thighs. When he touched the tip of his raging bulb to her pussy, she began to shudder and whine.
"She's so damn hot," he groaned, pushing his way into her pussy. The head of his cock rammed past her fat lips and bored into her snatch. Her tummy actually rose from the girth of the tool that slid into her. "Such a tight little fuck!"
I moved back, dragging my balls over her face. Talk about a submissive slut! Even as Slaney shoved his meat up her pussy, she craned her neck, sticking her chin straight up at the ceiling so that the top of her head was on the bed and so that I had a clear shot at her wide open mouth, her juicy throat.
I grabbed her by the ears and rubbed my cap over her lips. She kissed the goo from my bulb and licked it furiously, straining to get it in her mouth. Oh, I let her have it all right. After she'd gotten the knob suitably lubricated with her hot drool, I shoved every fucking inch of my cock down her throat. I rammed it to her until her lips were stretched tight about the hairy root of my club, until her nose nuzzled into the back of my bag. She was so tight and so hot that I could hardly stand it. I dragged my pud back, watching the way her throat shrank back to normal size as the gullet-splitting girth left it.
Her cheeks went hollow as my bulb came back into her mouth. She sucked and snorted, sending waves of sex kicks rushing down my rigid pole, over my nuts and then up my spine.
I could see old Slaney pumping away on her cunt. His thick pink dick all covered with her juice, and no longer pink but red from the marvelous friction of her tube. God, he was balling the bejabbers out of her! Her cunt was sputtering and farting up a storm and the fumes of their screwing were raw and musky.
I flipped my hips, driving my meat into her throat at the same time Slaney punctured her pussy. Did she ever start coming then! I mean coming apart! Her whole body started shaking, tummy rippling as the spasms washed over it. Slaney whimpered as her cunt locked down on his cock, milking it passionately.
And we thrust again. Slippery walls parting under the heads of our respective cocks, ramming towards the center of her being. Her knees clamped about his sides; her drool burbled out of her mouth, between my dick and her lips.
And then all hell broke loose! Slaney howled and his cock became a diving red blur as it pummeled her twat. At the first boiling spritz of his come, No-nipples began to whinny through her nose like a filly-in-heat and my own joy burst forth.
Hot bubbling spurt rushing up my sperm tube, shooting down her throat in great sticky gobs. Her adam's apple bobbed as she swallowed it, gorging herself on the heady man chowder.
Slaney, eyes slitted from the pleasure, ripped his orgasming cock from her convulsing snatch and let his white goo spurt over her pubes, her belly, her hot, quaking cunt. I followed suit, yanking cock from her throat and holding down the slobbery head, making my ropy strands belch over her open mouth, her eyes, her cheeks, her nose. I festooned her head with gizm even as Slaney garlanded her mons with his effluvium.
And all the while she moaned and thrashed, reveling in the sperm bath, licking the spurt from her lips, twisting her ass so that the slimy stuff ran down between her buns, over her ass-hole.
CHAPTER SIX
The effects of the drugged wine lasted considerably longer than the sixty minutes of the meditation period. Even though I went round robin on No-nipples ... mouth, cunt, ass-hole and back to mouth again ... I couldn't seem to take the edge off my sex hunger. Christ, all I wanted to do was to spurt. And it felt like somehow my balls were converting everything I had ... water, bones, flesh ... into sperm. It felt like my body, aside from dick and balls, was shriveling up, burning itself out to feed the fire raging in my groin, until I was only a great, slippery, mindless weenie and a pair of bloated testes laying on the sheets.
Somewhere along the line, Slaney, who'd had less of the aphrodisiac than me, dragged me off the delirious girl and led me back to my room.
I dunked both my heads under the cold water tap but nothing seemed to do any good. In the end, I had to whack off every ten minutes or so for the next hour, or go stone nuts from the penile tension. If I hadn't abused myself, I would've raped my pillow, my shoes, or the wall socket.
When my bone refused to revive after God knows how many orgasms, when the coiled spring in my prostate finally wound down, I heaved a sigh of relief and lay back on my bunk.
What a mess I'd gotten myself into! I was just plain stupid. I should've known that there had to be some kind of chemical reason for all those folks getting the hots all at once. Jeez, the way all their faces got so flushed! And those young cunts must've swallowed buckets of it. I'd never seen so many women so ready for anything. I don't mean just a stiff cock up the pussy, either. I mean crazy stuff ... blow jobs, ass-fucks, poopchute sucking ... and all at once, taking dick from every possible direction. As I looked back on it, I got the shuddering uglies. No wonder Hildy was so eager to pose for that picture! No wonder it looked like she was getting it on! She'd been drugged to the gills.
So I bet you're wondering why I passed off her mama's suggestion that she'd been slipped a sexual Mickey Finn? Hey, well first off, to my knowledge, there'd never been an aphrodisiac that really worked. Oh, sure, Spanish Fly made your piss tube swell up and itch ... and when you itched it, it felt okay until you started hemorrhaging; eating oysters and steak with lots of fresh ground pepper could put some life to your bone, but it could also give you a hell of a case of indigestion; and you could get yourself pumped full of monkey hormones until your arms were black and blue, only to end up with a terrible craving for bananas. What I'm saying is, all these drugs, foods, potions worked indirectly ... if at all. Whatever had been dropped in the wine worked directly, right on the cock and cunt. To put it simply, one swig and you were in heat.
I had something else to worry about, too. What with His Radiance's segregation of the sexes I didn't stand much of a chance of making contact with Mrs. Knutsen's daughter ... if she were still here. I racked my brain all night long trying to think of some way to get over into the women's wing and came up with zero. I couldn't disguise myself ... not with the amount of flesh the robes exposed ... and I couldn't sneak over there without sticking out like a sore prick.
There had to be a way. I was still pondering the problem all through breakfast the next morning and as I walked with Slaney to my first indoctrination session into the Mysteries of Mother Moon.
"What's wrong, Brother Grue?" he asked. "Still hung over from last night?"
I nodded my head. "My bone aches something awful," I lied.
He smiled and said, "Next time take a smaller sip...."
Next time I didn't intend on taking any sip at all.
"This seminar will take your mind off your problem," he said, opening the door for me, "I guarantee it."
We entered a small room, white walls and ceiling, with four rows of small, student desks, a blackboard that was green, and ten other men already seated. As we took our places, I realized how strange it felt to be masked, to have one's identity concealed, to be in a room full of others also masked. There was an odd camaraderie, as if we all were old gangbang buddies from the Army or the high school football team.
The spell was broken when the instructor, Brother Bruckner, entered the room with a very sexy young girl in tow. The subject of the lesson was written in chalk on the board: "Domination of the Bitch." Evidently the girl with the blonde ponytail, nude but for black cut out bra, garter belt, stockings and heels, was to be this morning's text.
I nearly swallowed my tongue when she turned around and I saw her face. It was Hildy Knutsen! She had the wide-eyed, hungry look that I'd seen on so many faces the night before. She'd been dosed heavily with the fuck drug. She kept darting her eyes from cock to naked cock and licking her lips. There were great rosy splotches in her cheeks from the fever and her chest heaved with excitement. Every time she took a breath, her titties, encased in the super-tight cut out cones, would flatten up against her chest, and her pink nipples would strain against the constricting holes, appearing as tender, swollen knobs of flesh. Her legs looked very slim in the nylons and her pussy, below the sparse fringe of blonde cuntfuzz, was a bright bubble gum pink.
"The lesson for today," Bruckner said, picking up a long wooden pointer, "is the Domination of the Bitch. This, Brothers, is a bitch." He flicked her right nipple with the tip of the pointer, bringing guffaws to the lips of all present save for Slaney and myself.
"First, we will go over the basic physiognomy ... the erogenous zones," he said. He prodded her right nipple with the tip of the pointer, pushing it deep down into the fleshy knob.
Hildy snapped her eyes shut, sucked in air through her clenched teeth, her nostrils dilated and her fingers twitched about against her thighs.
"This is what you call your Titty Nipple here," he said, drilling the point into her aureole. "Come on, Bitch, show us what you can do with it ... He gave her a light rap on the bud, as what a lion tamer might use to coax a recalcitrant lioness.
Hildy winced at the impact of wood upon her nipple, but when she opened her eyes, they were full of ecstasy. She clutched her breast in both hands and dragged it up, bending her neck as low as possible. The squeezing and lifting of the breast caused the nipple to come even further constrained so that it stuck out of the end of the truncated cone like a small, round, pink balloon. She opened her mouth and began kissing her own nipple, licking and sucking on it passionately. The more she sucked, the more she got into it. She began bobbing her head and whimpering as she nursed on herself, as the flurries of nipple joy raced over her tummy to her clit.
"Enough!" Bruckner said, deftly whacking her on top of the head. "I'm sure the Brothers have got the idea. From the Titty Nipple, we move onto the general area of the head. Basically, you have three orifices that can be utilized: the Nose Holes and the Mouth."
The gorge began to rise in my throat as the robed turkey inserted the tip of his pointer into the lovely girl's nose and began making fucking motions with it.
Hildy just stood there trembling as the instructor diddled her nostril. As the penetration became deeper, her face blushed crimson.
"The Nose, as you've probably noticed, is no place for a hard dick, unless you're hung like a chipmunk. Ha, ha, ha," he said. "But it's a swell place to shove an otherwise idle tongue or pinkie finger."
When Bruckner withdrew the probe, Hildy looked very disappointed.
"Which brings us to the Mouth," he said, teasing her lips with the damp pointer tip. "The Mouth is made up of a few easily recognizable parts. These are the Lips here, they are good for lots of things. Then can kiss."
Hildy closed her eyes and puckered up, giving the tip a tender smooch.
"They can suck." Bruckner pushed the tip into her mouth and slid it in and out as she applied suction, pursing her lips about the stiff wand. He removed the end from her mouth and rapped her briskly across the nose with it. "Also important is the Tongue."
Hildy dutifully displayed her oral equipage to the class.
"...which can lick...."
She wrapped her tongue about the wood tip ecstatically, spreading her drool over it.
"...and the Teeth, which can bite."
White teeth sank into the hickory stick.
"Not forgetting, of course, the Throat." Bruckner turned the pointer around and stuffed the fatter, handle end into her open, greedy mouth, ramming it deep in her throat and twisting it about.
Hildy whimpered and moaned, sucking and licking the plunging pseudo-cock for all she was worth.
Bruckner took the slobber-drenched tool from her and said, "Are there any questions so far?"
A man in front raised his hand and said, "What about the ears? They've got holes, too...."
Bruckner tut-tutted the man. "I'm surprised at you, Brother Scheib. Don't you know that the smallest thing you're supposed to put in your ear is your elbow? The Ear is not, I repeat, is not a suitable orifice for sexual use ... at least not in homo sapiens...."
I could hardly sit still. Every time the Lunie creep touched her with the goddam stick, poking her, prodding her, humiliating her in front of all those men, I wanted to rip his face off. But I could do nothing without blowing my cover. Also, I wasn't completely sure that she'd appreciate an interruption in the lesson.
Bruckner made her lean against the low teacher's desk, jabbing with the sharp pointer until she was in a suitable position. Her smooth, round buttocks were barely on the edge of the desktop and she had one high-heeled shoe on the floor, while the other one, and her long leg, was up on the desk. It was a very difficult position to maintain ... her entire crotch was exposed from muff to ass-hole ... and she had to hold onto her knee to keep her foot in place on the desktop.
Bruckner traced lazy circles around the turgid pink donut that was her sex. He teased the puffy labia, peeling them back and flicking her hard pea of a clit. "This of course is the Cunt," he said. "The hole is right here at the bottom where all these twatlips gether. See? And way down here is the Shitter or Asshole. Go on, Bitch, show the Brothers what you can do."
Hildy looked at the eager, beet red faces of the men as they stared into her hot little snatch. For a split second the effect of the drug seemed to weaken and she looked like a very frightened little girl.
Bruckner brought the stick down on the desk beside her with a loud SSSSSWWWAACK! The poor thing jumped a mile, but her fingers slowly, obediently crept down over the sparse blonde fur, over the plump summit of her mound, over the swollen pink lips.
"That's it, Bitch," Bruckner said, "give us a twiddle or two."
Hildy's face once again blushed red as she touched the erect nub of her clit. She rolled the hot pea around between her thumb and forefinger and groaned so low, so sultry that it made my balls ache. She was getting off. No doubt about it. Her head rolled about on her shoulders, her hips began to squirm on the desktop, and her pore, her sweet wrinkly sphincter, started puckering and pouting, smooching in and out as the flurries of clit joy sent her muscles into spasm.
Much to the delight of the boys in the front row, her pussy suddenly gave a great gusher of clear lubricant that slipped from the nadir of her slot, rushing down over her perfect buttocks, down between their deep cleavage.
"Diddle!" Bruckner ordered.
The moaning girl stuffed a pair of fingers into her cunt and began to slide them in and out. They went in dry, but they came out wet, glistening. And then it was Squirm City as she shoved the digits wildly, making her juice sputter onto the tabletop, making the mouth of her pussy kiss her slippery knuckles.
"The other hole, too!" he demanded.
Hildy's little finger touched the winking pink ring ... even as her fingers plunged home. "Uhhhhh!" she wailed, pushing her pinkie up her ass. Then all three fingers diving, disappearing into her body.
"Open your eyes, Bitch!" Bruckner told her. "See how attentive an audience you have."
She did as she was ordered, opening her eyes, watching the grinning men watching her finger fuck her cunt and ass simultaneously. "UHHHHHH!" she moaned, her bunghole visibly tightening on her finger. It turned her on no end to see those men watching her degrade herself, to degrade herself for their enjoyment.
And they all were certainly enjoying it, too. I'd like to say that I was the only man in the room who didn't have a hard on, but it'd be a lie. There were no men in the room without hard ons.
"All right, class, now that you have the general idea," the instructor said, "it's time for a little practice. Brother Soames, please begin...."
Soames, a tall thin man, stood up and advanced on the masturbating girl. "Stop that!" he said, slapping her nasty hand. "You are a horrid, degenerate little slut and need a lesson in manners. Down!" He pointed at the floor with an imperious gesture.
Hildy meekly slipped from the desk to her nylon clad knees before him. Her eyes were glued to the upcurving length of his big dick and the wrinkly scrotal sack that hung below it. She wanted to stuff that ugly whang down her throat so bad that her mouth actually began to water.
But Soames had other plans for her mouth. He kicked off his right show. Then he stuck his foot in her face, waving the limp, overlong end of his maroon nylon socks under her nose. "Take it off ... with your teeth," he said.
Whining like a Whippet in heat, her sinuses bombarded by the intense foot odor problem of Brother Soames, her libido boiling over from the kicks she was getting, Hildy latched onto the damp sock and, like a faithful but none too bright Dalmatian, proceeded to drag off her master's foot covering.
Soames feet were pale white things, sprinkled with long black hairs, adorned with varicose ivy motifs. His were tootsies that had never seen the light of day, nor the label on a can of Desenex.
"Kiss my feet, Bitch!" he cried, his cock thumping against his belly.
Hildy whinnied and threw herself down on the foul phalanges, smothering them with ardent kisses. She pressed her perfect rosy lips to the hideous and ingrown big toenail and her tongue dove between it and the second toe, in the tiny crotch between them.
"OOH, JEEZUS!" Soames warbled, as the sensation of hot, wet tongue sliding between his toes ransacked his psyche and sent the frantic signal from toe to knee to hip to dickhead to balls. "JEEEEEZ!" Hot sperm belched from the slot in his pudcap, shooting up to touch his chin, to hang there an instant before falling back onto his convulsing balls.
Hildy, even with a face full of foot, could smell the come in the air. She was up and at 'em like a heat seeking missile. Her mouth swarmed over Soames' hairy nuts, over the gross, greasy base of his cock, and then her lips covered the raging bulb, capturing the musty spritzes in her hungry mouth.
SSSSSWWWWAACK!!
"MMM-YEEEEE!" she screeched as Bruckner laid a swat of the pointer across her pert buns. Come flew from her pain-twisted lips and dribbled down her chin.
I was up out of my chair like a bullet, ready to shove Bruckner's sadistic pointer where the sun never shines. Slaney caught my arm and rose with me, holding me back with out seeming to. Our movement stirred the others who, not wishing to miss out on any keen sex thrills, rose with us and made tracks for the kneeling, weeping girl.
"Bitches don't take unless they are told to take," Bruckner told her, elbowing his way into the ring of hard and horny studs who surrounded her. "Brother Grue, I believe you are next. Please continue the lesson."
"Go on," Slaney said, giving me a push towards the sobbing teenager.
What could I do? If I hadn't had such a terrible hard on, I could've begged off. You know, a temporary dysfunction. But Christ! I was as big as a fire hose and pre-come was drooling over the head over my cock like I hadn't been laid in a month. And, anyway, I had to play along so they wouldn't get suspicious. Right?
Oh, hell, I might as well admit it. Despite my loathing for Brother Bruckner, the way Hildy ate up abuse was a definite turn on. Maybe I hated him because I wasn't holding the stick!
When I stepped up to Hildy, there was only one thing on my mind: squirting. I grabbed her by the ponytail and jerked her head up to face my bloated balls.
"Ooooh!" she sighed as she saw the great shifting orbs in their pouch.
I dragged her mouth down on my nuts, rubbing her lips over them, making her kiss and suck my bag. She liked balls better than feet; that was plain from the way she snorted and snuffled, lapping her tongue not only over the pendulous sack but lower, much lower, straining against my grip on her hair to lick at my hairy ass-hole.
I let her have a little taste, but the heat and the slobber of her tongue got me so excited that I had to yank her off or dump my wad down her silky back. I pulled up on her hand of hair, forcing her to turn her attention to my rock-hard cock. It wasn't really "forcing," though, since all I did was point her open, sucking, hungry mouth and let her go to town.
"Mmmmmm-uhhhng," she murmured, showering the base of my dick, the slick and sweaty juncture of balls and shaft, with moist, hot kisses. She loved the musty, man-musk fumes, loved the feel of crisp hairs, of rigid throbbing pole under her lips.
The other Brothers closed in, dicks at ready, rubbing their swollen balls into her cheeks, her neck, her back, surrounding her with erect penis.
"OOOOOH!" she cooed, her hands clutching left and right, closing about this cockstem and that pair Of nuts, her lips diving down over the head of my cock.
God, she loved to suck dick! She seesawed her tongue in the slot of my pecker, trying to tease out a taste more of the salty brew. Then ... and I swear to Moses this is true ... she let me slip from her lips, dropped the guy's cock who stood next to me, reached out and took hold of the dick on the other side of him, shoved his dick down her throat and wrapped her fist about my crank. She moved like a sucking, masturbating machine around the circle of panting studs, giving each one a nut-rattling thrill and then moving on.
Talk about your stenches! All those men in heat smelled like a compost heap overdue for turning. And watching her work out on stiff cock was almost as much of a kick as being worked on. She kept her eyes closed and put her body and soul into every throat thrust, every flip of the wrist. I mean, it was like she was making love. She'd lock some lucky bastard's pudcap in her mouth and then roll her head around, mashing the sex flesh over her tongue, her cheeks, all the while pumping, pumping with her fist. And the juice that was coming out of her snatch was incredible. A river of slick stuff ran down the inside of her thighs, over the tops of her nylons.
Then Slaney, who was receiving the benefit of her mouth, made a gurgling sound and his hips started to buck, slamming his slobbery meat between her lips. Hot squirt shot from her nose as he filled her face to overflowing.
And the orgasming was like an infectious disease. Guys who were on the other side of the circle from lips and hands started shooting. White tendrils spattered on her back, in her hair, over her forehead, her legs, her shoes, her nipples. Ten spraying cocks showered her in egg flesh.
"OH! OH! OH!" she squealed, falling back, opening her mouth, cupping her hands to catch the slimy deluge.
The moaning and groaning was awesome and by the time it was over, Hildy lay flat on her back, delirious with joy, rubbing the effluvium over her breasts, her tummy, down into her crotch, into the sloppy vortex that was her pussy.
Once ducts had been vented and the searing nut joy had abated, the first thing everyone started looking for was something to wipe the residue off on. Hildy's hair was out of the question. We'd given her a sperm shampoo and no rinse. Finally the others filed out to scrounge up some towels. I hung back, hoping to get a word in with the come-crazed girl.
I knelt beside her and said, "Hildy, I have to talk to you."
She opened her eyes. They were huge ... and wild. "Oooh!" she said, sitting up, grabbing my limp dick in both hands, pumping it frantically while nursing on the slippery cap.
"No, Hildy, really. I want to be alone with you."
She looked up from her stiffening prize. Her eyes blazed. She gave my cock a long, sensuous lick from base to cap. Then she lay on her back and spread her thighs as far as they'd go. She held her juicy little pussy open for me, begging me to penetrate her.
"No, you don't understand," I said. "The others will be back."
"Mmmmm," she mumbled, sitting up and grabbing my cock again, munching my nerve bundle with her sharp teeth. "Tomorrow, during meditation hour ... all alone...."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Frankly, as Slaney and I headed towards the meeting hall and the Service the following afternoon, I was having serious doubts about the possibility of salvaging Hildy Knutsen's psyche. Granted, her "enjoyment" and active participation may have been mostly drug induced, but that couldn't change the fact that the humiliation scene had taken place. The abuse that she had suffered, her victimization, was burned into her gray matter. It would always be there. The memory of all those inquisitive male fingers, those throbbing, spurting members could only be erased by death or electro-shock. I was not looking forward to returning her to her mother in her present condition.
When we entered the meeting hall it was shoulder to shoulder, as usual. Hildy was nowhere in sight, although she could have been anywhere in the milling, jabbering crowd. I hoped that since I stuck up somewhat above the general populace she would be able to see me.
Shortly after we squeezed into the room, the curtains parted and the stage hands dragged out a kicking, bawling, red-faced teenage girl. She was naked except for nylons and spike heeled black shoes. Her hair was straw blonde and she wore it in a short, boyish style. She would've been very fetching had she not been so thoroughly outraged. Her freckles dappled not only her face, but her throat and her tits as well. She had small breasts that perched up high on her chest. They were pear shaped, with large pink nipples. She was very tiny waisted and her hips were round and plump with babyfat.
As she kicked and struggled in the grip of the burly men, she gave the audience some great shots of her pussy. It was a narrow hummock but very rounded, curving from her pubic bone to her ass-cheeks in a single sassy arc. The lips of her slit were tight and thin and covered with a thick down of reddish blonde that crested her mound in a single spit curl.
If there was one word to describe her, it would be smooth. Sliding into that girl's saddle, between her child's thighs, would be like sliding into warm, fragrant satin.
As before, the stagehands chained the girl to the altar, only this time they manacled her face down. Her sweet, baby fat buns jutted up tastily, as she strove to hide her nakedness, to press her titties into the cold marble.
Then His Radiance made his entrance. Waving his arms on high, he stepped onto the stage ... amid the hoorahs and applause of his reverent following. He doted on the adulation, turning this way and that, wringing more cheers from the crowd, prolonging the divine moment.
I'll say one thing for the bald bastard, he had a cock on him that would please a she-elephant. It looked even bigger than it had the day before. It stuck straight up from his black pube next like a smokestack ... a smokestack with a great, red, fleshy helmet on top. The size of his erection and the accompanying rigidity of stomach muscles made him walk hunched over. Along with his low swinging nuts, like softballs in their well-greased sack, and his long hairy arms, he looked like a great bald ape in near-terminal heat.
He waved his arms for silence and his deep voice rumbled, "Gathered be We to celebrate the Radiance, to pay homage to the Reflection of that Most Perfect Truth which brings fulfillment."
His beady black rat's eyes twinkled as he turned the altar on its pedestal, facing the blonde girl's naked ass to the crowd. She had marvelous butt-cheeks, so full and firm, and the cleft between them was very deep, yet without the skin discoloration that comes from years of intra-bun friction. Nestled about halfway down the cleavage was a small tea rose, a bud of bubble gum pink. It was the floral adornment of her ass-hole, which lurked hidden among the right petals. Below her pore was an equally tight pussy, the lips so firmly closed that the slit between them looked like a pencil line.
"Luna be praised!" Den Err said, stroking the quivering girl's ass, watching the way the she flinched under his touch.
"LUNA BE PRAISED!" shouted the throng.
The high priest put the ball of his thumb upon her pore and he began to twiddle the hot, fragrant flower back and forth.
"Nooooo!" the teenager wailed, shaking her head, causing her chains to rattle and clank against the stone.
But he ignored her and pushed the tip of his thumb into the round hole beneath the decorative bud of flesh. She shut up then, going absolutely rigid as she felt herself penetrated.
"What is Truth?" Den Err asked, corkscrewing his digit deeper into her hole, grinning like a maniac at the snug fit, the amazing heat, the rhythmic squeezing of sphincter.
"THE LIGHT!" cried the crowd.
"And the Light?"
"A REFLECTION!"
"And the Reflection!"
"A REFLECTION!"
"Mirrors facing mirrors, replication without end," he said, pulling his thumb from her ass very slowly, making her shudder most violently. He held his thumb high in the air, turning it for all to see. "...Until the End of Time...."
The Lunies went wild. Cheering, jumping up and down, groping each other hungrily. While they were thus occupied, den Err signalled for the stagehands to approach. Each of the men took hold of one of the girl's firm buttocks and then pulled, spreading her asscrack wide open.
"Help! HELP!" she bleated, rattling her chains while clearly visible to the audience her pert ass-hole flexed and puckered.
Den Err made no effort to conceal his vile goal. In full view of everyone, he put his mouth right on her anal flower and began to suck furiously.
As soon as his beard-rimmed lips touched her pore, the girl jerked, convulsed like she'd been given a galvanic shock. She was too shocked, too disgusted even to scream.
The high priest's tongue seesawed over her ass, drooling, boring into the tiny hole amid the petals. The sound of his horrible snuffling filled the room as he gripped her by the hipbones and began to thrust his face into her behind, driving the tip of his tongue past the sphincter and into her ass.
"YEEEEEEEE!" she warbled as the waggling, red hot thing spitted her, as the bearded man ground his face into her crack, his hairy chin into the entrance of her cunt.
Finally, he removed his tongue from her heinie and turned to face the throng. He put his hand on her pussy and peeled back the tight lips to expose the slick, pink inner flesh and the quaking entrance to her fuck tube. "All systems go?" he said.
The response was unanimous: "A-OK!! ! "
"Prepare to launch!" he yelled, touching the altar control switch, making the platform lower to knee height. He stood still, holding his cock by the massive base, as the lackeys dumped buckets of viscous lubricant upon it.
"PREPARE TO LAUNCH!"
"Countdown!" Den Err cried, swinging around behind the trembling girl. Instead of pressing the gross bulb into her small pussy, he had the stagehands once again spread her nether cheeks and proceeded to push at her ass-hole with it.
She must've had one hot little hole because the high priest groaned and shuddered as his pudcap came into contact with it.
"TEN...."
"I commit this Moonship to the glory of Perfect Truth!"
"NINE ... EIGHT ... SEVEN...."
He rammed the heavy head into her unyielding pore and she began to shriek something awful. His face was distorted by the strain his driving hips placed on his cock.
"...SIX ... FIVE ... FOUR...."
The stagehands began helping ... one pushing on den Err's back, the other pushing the girl's shoulders, shoving her ass back on the hot probe.
"UHHHH! UHHHHHHHH!" she screamed, as the hard on broke the power of her sphincter.
"...THREE ... TWO ... ONE...."
Ever so slowly, the huge cock slid up her ass, and she made high pitched squeaks as it reamed her. Den Err kept on lunging until her tasty little rosebud nuzzled in his crisp pubic hair, until her convulsing anus was locked around the root of his mammoth dick.
"LIFTOFF!"
The lackeys jumped out of the way as den Err began fucking the bejabbers out of her. His greasy pole flew in and out of her ass, making the ring of wrinkly flesh turn in on itself on the thrusts and draw way out, far from her crack. And how the little bitch squawked! It sounded like he was killing her ... in the beginning, at least. A little later, when the fat man was puffing and moaning, so close to squirting, when he'd gotten her pore used to the deep sloggings, her cries of pain dwindled, to be replaced by grunts of sheer delight.
"Oooooh!" she groaned, raising her ass up into his lunge, hastening the ecstatic contact of pubes on bunghole, the ass splitting tension of dickroot stretching pore.
And then the bald bastard was shooting his wad. He yanked his pud from her depths, the besmirched bulb popped from her ass, and he started spurting quarts of sticky white stuff over her upturned buns.
The crowd went absolutely berserk, applauding, shouting, stamping their feet.
Den Err, his face a beet red, eyeballs bloodshot from the power of the sex kicks he'd gotten, stood down from the altar and cried, "Celebrate! Celebrate!"
The two burly stagehands began passing through the crowd dispensing the powerful aphrodisiac to one and all. I swear the stuff must've had some kind of cumulative effect, because some of those fools no more than sniffed it before going into a fucking, sucking fit. When the wine was thrust in my face, I held my breath and pretended to take a big swallow.
I know I didn't get any on my lips, but when the lackey moved on I found myself in the possession of one hell of a boner. Maybe it was something in the air. The smell of pussies being broached left and right, of ass-holes, sucking at thrusting dick-heads. The room seemed to sway from the waves of intense heat emanating from the humping bodies that littered the floor, lined the walls. People were doing it standing up, women with their thighs locked about their partner's waist while they were raised and lowered on stiff manmeat; they were doing it dogstyle, in one and then the other; they were doing it in huge writhing masses on the floor, heaps of tumescent bodies so tangled that it was impossible to tell who was doing what to whom.
Then something searing hot and juicy clamped onto the head of my dick. I looked down to see Hildy Knutsen giving me a passionate suck, while jerking off my shaft with one hand and manipulating my balls with the other.
"Mmmmm," she crooned, lapping at my tender bulb.
"Come on," I said, "Let's get out of here." I lifted her wine-stained lips from my pecker and hauled her out of the meeting hall, down the white corridors to my dorm room.
No sooner than I closed the door and she was on my stiff cock, sucking, licking, smothering it with moist kisses. "Easy, Hildy, easy," I said my balls aching from the pleasure her mouth gave me.
She was so very eager to please. Without a word, she got up from her knees, went over to a handy bed, lay down on her back and spread her legs. Her pussy was swollen up something fearful, a pouty little pink donut, and the sparse fuzz was plastered to her mound by the copious drizzle that escaped her gaping slit.
"Hildy, I...." I began, walking towards her.
The wild-eyed girl plunged a pair of fingers in her pussy and, shifting her hips provocatively, started to diddle the hell out of herself. "Come on!" she whined, fingers flying, cunt stuff sputtering. "Hurry and screw me!"
I stood between her spread thighs and inhaled the foxy fumes of her juicy twat. My cock bumped insistently against my chest, oozing the white goo.
"Hildy, I want to talk to you."
"Ooooh, come on, you big hairy stud!" she cried. "Talk to me! Shove that hard cock in me and talk dirty to me. Tell me what a good fuck I am giving you ... how hot my pussy is ... how you love my slippery juice."
"Hildy, I didn't mean I wanted to talk dirty."
"OH, COME ON!" she howled, reaching out and grabbing the pulsing neck of my dick, bending the head down and trying to ram it up her cunt.
The angle was all wrong, but she would not give up. She mashed my bulb into her slick folds, making her pussy lips smooch over the broad head, coating it with slick nectar. Her whimpers of frustration as she crammed the huge tool at her cunt did something to me. The red haze dropped over my eyes; my breathing became difficult; and there was a pounding in my skull that demanded, compelled me to act.
"So you want some cock, huh?" I croaked, pushing her knees up into her tits, making her whole crotch easily accessible. Everything that she had flung out from between the smooth sandwich of thighs: her fat, puffy cunt and below, the flexing pink ring of her anus.
"Uhhhhh!" she whinnied as I dove on her snatch, pressing my mouth onto the searing flesh, inhaling the wild musk, tasting the keen flavor of her juice.
I gobbled her pussy like a starving man, licking up and down the hot, slippery gully, pausing to suck on her clit, then going full bore up her cunt, thrusting my tongue as deep as it would go. And it went very deep, thanks to the angle of entry and the fact that she was all folded up, her pussy tube foreshortened. I lashed my tongue over her slick, fleshy ridges, her tight convolutions, smearing the gushing lubricant all over my face.
"YES! OH, YES!" she screeched, clutching at my hair, trying to drive my face into her snatch harder, my tongue into her pussy even deeper. '
When I took my tongue from her cunt and snaked it lower, across the super-soft band of skin that separated twat and ass, she wrapped her arms behind her knees, mashing them into her tits, making her bottom tip up, making her blazing hot pore come into contract with my hungry tongue.
"OOOOH, LOVER! LOVER, SUCK MY BUTT!" she bellowed as my juicy tool flipped over the gateway to her bowels. And instead of locking up tight, her pore went all ga-ga so that I could easily penetrate the velvety ring
Then her sphincter closed on my tongue and I thought it was going to get pulled out by the roots. How her heinie could suck! It was only with considerable effort ... and discomfort that I freed myself from her funky trap.
I was long gone. I threw myself down on her spread crotch, shoving my bloated pecker at her pussy with my right hand. The lips, even though drenched (with woman goo, somehow got all caught up around the head) and about half of them went in with my dick. She moaned horribly as I continued to press her, to drive her flaps right up her cunt. I was beyond any kind of restraint, any thought for anything except my need, which was devastating.
"UHHH! UHHHH!" she wept, as I spitted her, bottomed her on my rigid rod. When she felt the huge, bristling base of my dick ramming into her distended pussy, she went berserk. She locked her thighs about the small of my back and started humping like a crazy woman, dragging her trapped folds back out into the light of day, sending gusher after gusher of slick dew to lubricate the stroke of my cock.
In seconds her orifice was giving forth with loud, moist farting sounds as the air pushed up inside her tube by my plunging pecker escaped at the juncture of our joy, between sloppy pussy lips and glistening cock.
"Ooooh, uh-huh, uh-huh," she whispered in my ear as I rode her, timing her idiotic murmurs of consent, assent, with the tube splitting lunges of my cock. "Yes, yes. Uh-huh, uh-huh, UH-HUHHHH!! "
Her pussy suddenly clamped down on the head of my cock just over the flaring rim and when I pushed through the constricted ring, parting her folds, driving the sphincter to the base of my dick, she squealed and something rasped my back.
Her nails! Jeez, she was clawing the hell out of me, raking me with her talons. Shivers of ecstasy ravaged me. No, it didn't hurt at first, not at first. Not until the nerve ends, confused by the wild coruscations of joy that permeated every cell, stopped translating the assault as wonderful.
But by that time it was too late. I was coming. My dick shot wads of hot sperm up her puckering snatch and she shuddered as the great sticky dollops washed over her tube and ran out of the mouth of her cunt in a gooey river.
I humped her hard, dragging the white come-slobber from her pussy on the frantic backstrokes, shooting more of it in on the powerful, bone-jarring lunges.
Then the tickling pleasure that bathed my nuts dissolved, to be replaced by a horrible, sharp, itching pain on my back. The neurons had recovered; the signals they were sending to my orgasm-racked brain were signals of danger, of cell destruction, of pain.
"Jeez!" I groaned, rolling off of her sodden muff, trying to rub the wounds she'd given me. I could feel long, ragged welts all over my back. They stung like the dickens as my sweat poured over them.
"Ooooh, let me," Hildy said, turning my on my stomach and kissing the scratches tenderly. When she blew on them, it felt real good.
"Hildy," I said, "I've got to talk to your seriously...."
"Mmmmm...."
"Look, I'm not really a candidate," I confessed. "My name's Bascom Grue. I'm a private investigator...."
The smooching on my back stopped.
"Your mother hired me to find you and bring you back home." I waited for a response from the teenager, but she said nothing.
Then the bedsprings creaked as she crawled off the mattress. I turned and watched her walk calmly to the door. She opened it, stuck her head out and began screaming.
Before I could grab her and shut her up, the damage was done. The corridor was full of robed, masked men. They broke into the room and I gave the first three who entered a taste of hell. I shot a rapid flurry of punches, catching one man over the heart, another in the throat, and the last one right on the button, totally flatfooted. Something crunched under my knuckles, and then the wave of angry cult members swept me to the floor.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After giving me a thorough trouncing, the Lunies tied my hands behind my back with their sashes and dragged me to the elevator.
"As you will soon discover, Mr. Grue, the Children of Luna deal harshly with spies and traitors," Bruckner said as he shoved me into the cubicle.
Two heavy set Brothers joined us in the elevator and I was quickly transported up to the penthouse abode of His Radiance.
Evidently the word had traveled ahead of us. Sigmund den Err was there in person to greet me as the elevator door opened. He was wearing his star-spangled robe, grinning like a fiend, and he held a heavy caliber, chrome plated automatic pistol aimed at my forehead. The others salaamed their demigod.
"Well, well, Brother Bruckner, what have we here?" he said merrily, looking me up and down with keen interest.
"The traitor Grue, your Radiance," Bruckner said solemnly.
"The proverbial 'bad apple,' eh, Brothers?"
The three lackeys of Luna smirked as though their lives depended on it.
"Is he securely bound?" den Err asked, waving for them to turn me around to he could inspect the knots. "Yes, yes, that will do for the present. You may leave us now," he told the others. "The Furies will attend to my safety."
As the elevator door closed, den Err got behind me, jabbed the ice cold muzzle of the gleaming Nambu behind my right ear, and said, "March!"
I marched. He shoved me down the short white hall to a pair of double doors that stood ajar.
When I paused at the entry way, he said, "What's wrong, Mr. Grue, have you never been in the parlor of a deity before ? "Then he pushed me through the door.
The bald turkey sure knew how to live, I'll give him that. He had his penthouse decorated in Middle Valentino: it looked like the inside of some Arab sheik's tent. Tapestries on the walls, Persian carpets on the floor, low ebony tables, cushions instead of chairs. It was all very impressive.
"Please, Mr. Grue," den Err said, "sit down anywhere." His Radiance took a seat under a hand painted silk canopy, a very busy design in reds and yellows, on a big pile of silk throw pillows.
I sat down on the other side of the low coffee table that stood in the center of the ring of cushions, putting the table between him and me, figuring that if worst came to worst I could always kick the damn thing up into his greasy face.
"Now you must tell me all about yourself," he said, smugly, taking the safety off the pistol's firing mechanism and pointing it at my right kneecap.
"The name's Bascom Grue. I'm a P.I., " I said, not really caring what came out of my mouth. I was trying to figure some angle, some way to get the hell out with a whole skin and both kneecaps. "The mother of one of your converts got worried when she didn't show up for breakfast two weeks running and hired me to make sure she was all right."
"The mother of Hildy Knutsen?"
"That's privileged information."
"How quaint, Mr. Grue. Really quite droll of you. But, of course, you've just given me the answer anyway."
"So what? What difference does it make who I'm working for?"
"It makes no difference at all to me," den En-said, "but it might matter to you, since it is a question of life and death."
"Huh?"
"Your life and death. It is very simple. If you are, as I believe, working for Mrs. Knutsen I'm going to have you killed. If you can prove to me that you are not, I will only have you permanently maimed."
Jeez! Not that I had a choice anyway. Undoubtedly, poor Hildy would be only too glad to repeat what I told her downstairs to her "deity."
"Since you've already made up your mind, I'd hate like hell to disappoint you," I said.
"What bravery! Or is it bravado? We shall soon see, Mr. Grue."
"Could you at least tell me why you're going to snuff me?"
Den Err shrugged his shoulders. "That doesn't seem like too much to ask. Very well, as you and I both know, the Knutsens were intended to 'voluntarily' contribute a large sum of money to the furtherance of the Church of the Waning Moon."
"To finance the search for the Perfect Truth?"
"Your attempt at witticism is pathetic, Grue. If you had been watching the faces of the faithful down in the meeting hall you would know that the Perfect Truth has been found ... it lives ... it is ME."
"Oh."
"The Knutsens are just a tiny part of a large scale fund raising program I have instituted."
"How many of your followers are you blackmailing?"
"Your ignorance is showing again. It is not how many but which ones? Ten of the right people are infinitely more valuable than a thousand of ordinary folk."
"So you check the Dun and Bradstreet ratings?"
"Something in that vein. I need an immense amount of capital. I am using the funds to assist me in the expansion of my church. In five years I envision a global network of the Children of Luna. You understand that I could never let a single, rather insignificant human life stand in my way."
"Sure. I understand. You have a noble purpose. But tell me how you do it, how you get all those
"Sure. I understand. You have a noble purpose. But tell me how you do it, how you get all those tight young chicks to go along with you?"
Den Err grinned. "I will do better than that. I will demonstrate." He reached above his head and grasped a thick bell rope with a long tassel at the end. He gave the rope a tug.
Almost instantly a side door opened and two stunningly beautiful fifteen year old girls rushed in bearing a large golden goblet on a red velvet cushion. They were wearing the same type of black cut out bra that Hildy'd worn to the domination lecture and matching black garter belt, nylons and high heels. The taller of the two had blonde hair cut in a severe dutch boy style, blue eyes and a turned up nose. Her body was very slim and firm, the tits hardly jiggling at all as she moved, her waist almost ridiculously slender, her hips narrow and boyish, her legs very long. Between her legs she had only a fine sprinkling of golden down that failed to mask the deep pink cleft in her mons.
The shorter girl had brown hair and it was frizzy enough to be worn in a fluffy afro, though she was not black. She had a much more opulent body than her partner: big, sassy tits with heavy red tips, round, full hips, and lots of dense brown fur on her wide, protuberant pudenda.
"I'm glad to see that you appreciate beauty, Mr. Grue," Den Err said, taking the goblet from the pillow and placing it on the floor beside him. "This is Trina," he said, pointing at the blonde girl. "Tell Mr. Grue about yourself, Trina."
The girl was very shy but overcame her self-consciousness when the high priest took a short, braided leather quirt from under his pillow.
"My name is Trina Treblow. My father owns Treblow Industries, which produce one-eighth of the world's supply of bottle caps. I am fifteen years old...."
Den Err urged her on by gently stroking her firm buns with the whip.
"...and I'm a virgin," she finished.
"And this is Loolie McShay," His Radiance informed me. "Go on, Loolie, tell him how much money your father has."
"My father has net assets of over ten million dollars," she said, shooting a quick, fearful look at her master. "...and I'm a virgin, too...."
"Very good. I'm sure Mr. Grue has been suitably edified."
"But how did you get them here?" I asked.
TTHHHWWAACK! The quirt sizzled down on Loolie's plump behind, causing her to jump forward and thrust her hands over her cheeks, in a belated attempt to protect them.
"OWWW!" she said, rubbing herself, tears welling up in her dark eyes. "Some of the Children of Luna were hanging around our junior high and they said we could help humanity if we came along with them and joined the Church of the Waning Moon."
"Uh-huh," Trina interjected, "and they were so cool and together and committed that a bunch of us girls decided to see what it was all about."
"But once we got here," Loolie said, making a sour face, "all they make us do is drink that awful stuff and put their big hairy cocks in our mouths."
"It's awful!" Trina whined. "And I want to go home right now!"
"There, there, Trina. Don't be cranky in front of our company," den Err said. The high priest fumbled with the waistband of his skimpy bikini briefs.
Loolie saw what he was about to do and groaned, "Oh, no! Not again!"
Frankly, I was amazed at what fell out of den Err's undies. Especially after seeing the hungus rod he waved about on stage. To say that his weenie was a mere shadow of its former self would have been the understatement of the week. I mean, the dude had a mouse dick on him, a tiny, wizened tube of meat, all sort of a golden yellow color and the head was even darker, almost walnut colored. His testes were completely lost in the tangle of black pubes; no longer soft balls swinging in a paper thin sack.
His Radiance then lifted the goblet to his lips and drank deep of the drugged wine. Smacking his lips, he pressed the cup at Loolie who refused it.
"I don't want any," she said. "It tastes nasty and makes me do things that I hate."
TTTHHHWWWAACK! Her right buttock leapt from the power of the blow.
"Uhhhhh!" she whimpered, clutching herself, eyes wide with terror.
"Drink!" he said.
When she obediently took the goblet from him, I could see the gruesome welt that was swelling up on her sassy bottom, a puffy line of pink across those satiny cheeks.
She took a swallow and made a face. He tipped the goblet up, pouring the stuff down her throat, spilling the red fluid all down over her titties.
Trina, obviously terrified by what had happened to her friend, did exactly as she was told. She drained the cup and then stood there, watching the priest, waiting.
She did not have long to wait. The effects on den Err were almost instantaneous. His insignificant little nerd of a dick began to swell and grow, as if it were being inflated with air. It surged out and sprang up to thump against his pot belly. A veritable bludgeon of a prick. And his nuts, too, started bloating out until the yellow brown sack was stretched tight over the heavy orbs.
I could hardly hide my amazement.
"Yes, Mr. Grue," he said, grinning, inspecting the broad blind face of his swollen cock, "my satyrion is marvelous, is it not?"
"Satyrion?"
"The drug that turns everything to pleasure. A true aphrodisiac. It is a derivative of another drug which you may have heard of: L-dopa."
It was my turn to grin. "You mean the stuff they supposedly give to geriatric patients so they can make whoopee from their wheelchairs?"
"A derivative, Grue, a derivative. It not only stimulates the urge to copulate, but it also causes rapid enlargement of the sexual organs in the male."
What I'd read about the sex drug L-dopa had been much less enthusiastic. It was unstable, unpredictable and highly dangerous if used excessively.
"...it appears to be a state of Priapism, but actually the drug is transmogrifying undifferentiated body cells into penile and gonadal tissue
The two girls were showing effects of the satyrion, too. The tall blonde's cheeks were touched with the fever and the hairless slit in her mound had expanded, opened to show slippery pink flesh, a long stiff clitoris, and the loosening flaps of her inner labia. The brown-haired girl was even more aroused. She was rubbing the summit of her mound with the heel of her hand, causing the puffy red lips to pucker and smooch, to leak clear, viscous fluid.
"HEEL!" den Err bellowed, punctuating his command with a sizzling crack of the quirt across a handy pillow.
The girls whimpered in unison and dropped to their knees, one on either side of him.
"Witness, Mr. Grue, that these are not gutter snipes who would suck a sailor's unwashed whang for the price of a game of Pong," he said. "These are high born young bitches with carefully cultivated pretensions."
TTTHHHWWWAACK!! He brought the quirt down on Trina's bare buns. She jerked, yelped, and lowered her head, pressing her nipples, which stuck from the holes in the tips of the cut-out bra like pencil stubs, into the fat man's hairy thigh. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, drool streaming down her chin.
TTTTTH H H H WA ACK!!
"Eeeeee!" Loolie wailed as he crossed the first welt with another, cutting an X into the smooth meat of her ass. She, too, rubbed her hard nipples into his leg, lowered her head and opened her mouth.
"Now these bitches will suck!" he said, giving each of them a TTTHHHWWWAACK!! for good measure.
The girls jerked forward, slobbering all over themselves, and trapped the huge, red bulb of his cock between their open mouths.
"Uhhhhng!" he groaned as the slick heat enveloped his pudcap.
The teenagers began groaning too, groaning and kissing the dick head passionately, wrapping their lips about it, sliding their tongues over it. They kissed each other, too, around the great knob, tongues touching, lips pressing.
"This is how a trained bitch should act," den Err said, indicating the submissive, all fours position with titties low and ass raised up high in the air, the closed rapturous eyes, blushing cheeks, the torrent of hot drool that rushed from their lips and cascaded down his throbbing pole.
They really did seem to adore his cock. It was as if they were worshipping it, groveling before its massive girth, its unflinching rigidity, beseeching if for a swallow or two of hot salvation. Their tongues flicked over the flaring rim, seesawed into the deep slot that divided the helmet, rasped over the heavy drapery of his nerve bundle.
It was hard to believe that these were the same two demure girls of a few minutes before. They seemed rather to be the gutter snipes that den Err had described . . low life teen tarts who enjoyed nothing quite so much as a quick, juicy thrust session behind the bowling alley with a contingent from the local motorcycle club. Humping in among the garbage cans.
TTTTHHHWWWACK! The quirt sang, smacking into the upturned buttocks.
"Mmmmmm," the girls moaned in harmony, fastening their lips to his greasy shaft, forming a hot U of girl mouth on either side of his tool so that their upper lips touched at his nerve bundle. Then, raising their hot bottoms up for more corporal punishment, they began to slide their mouths down his shaft.
Oh, it was lewd indeed to see the girls masturbating him like that, pressing their mouths together around his choad and moving up and down, up and down, leaving behind a snail's trail of shining slobber.
TTTHHHWWWAACK! came the refrain, buns quivering, bellies heaving, tongues lashing over the hairy root of his cock.
"OOOOOHHHMMMM!" they gasped, tasting the musty staleness of his bloated scrotum. Their pussies gave forth with double gushers of lubricant that ran down the inside of their thighs and into the tops of their nylons. Each of the frantic teeners sucked a great teste in her mouth and gave it tender suck, doting on the tart gooseflesh, the wild and lengthy hairs that adorned it.
Den Err just sat there, his neck and face growing redder by the instant, occasionally giving the groveling girls a corrective crack of the quirt.
"Ummmm, yes," he said, his eyes slitting with the pleasure, "yes, Mr. Grue, I get great satisfaction from these little displays of homage."
"Drug induced displays of homage."
"Does that matter? Wouldn't you like to have these bitches for a pair of bookends ... regardless of their mental state?"
I said nothing, but watched their tongues laving his testes, turning them a bright red hue from the friction of pebbly surface.
"I daresay you'd sacrifice your left gonad for the privilege," he ranted, puffing from the sex thrills he was getting. He slid the quirt tip down between Trina's thighs, rubbing it over the hairless but gaping lips of her cunt, making her whinny with joy. "I keep these virgins around to handle the odd jobs that come up. When I tire of them, they are used in the Service."
"Public defloration?"
"It is a rite as old as time. Afterwards ... uhhhh! ... they are sent out to join the rest of the ... uhhh ... flock."
Den Err's face was darkening even further, edging over from red to a light purple. The head of his cock had the same malady and a gob of thick, white pre-come had oozed from his nuts and clung onto the cleft in his dickhead for dear life.
Loolie smelled the fresh spunk and left off her ball sucking to feed. She licked the goo right from the head of his dick and swallowed it down, moaning with the kicks it gave her.
"Uhhhh!" said den Err, his ass shifting on the pillow.
Trina, realizing that she was missing out, gave up on the teste of her choice and thrust her mouth beside Loolie's on the slippery pudcap. Then the two of them began to suck.
"UHHHHH!"
Their cheeks went concave as they fought to maintain position directly over the slot in his cock. Two pairs of greedy lips sucking, trying to bring forth the white deluge.
The double suction was more than the high priest could handle. He let out a gasp, stiffened, and grabbed hold of both girls' hair in his hands.
"Eat spurt!" he wheezed, mashing their mouths down on his tumescent tool as the first gooey dollop surged forth.
The girls fought for it and ended up sharing it, smearing it over each other's mouths with their hungry tongues.
And then the second volley and the third exploded from his dickhead and he grinned and denied them easy access to the bubbling goo, dragging their mouths up and down his pole, letting the steaming sperm flop over their cheeks, their hair, their necks.
The moaning was mind-wrenching, a din of whimpers and snuffles, of slurping and snuffling, as the teenagers in heat slid their lips over his spermy shaft.
While Trina and Loolie gave each other thorough face cleanings, den Err rose to his feet and pulled his bikini underpants up over his diminutive genitalia.
"So sorry to see you go, Mr. Grue," he said, reaching up and tugging on the bell rope. "Better luck in your next reincarnation."
CHAPTER NINE
The females who responded to den Err's silent summons were not of the submissive, teenage variety.
"Mr. Grue," His Radiance said, "allow me to introduce the Wan Furies, the Avengers of Luna, Protectors of the Perfect Truth ... and your executioners."
There were four of them, and they were as Slaney had described them. All of them over six feet tall, all of them wearing tight, peaked black leather hoods, like the KICK, with little slits for their eyes, all of them in constricting black leather bras and thigh-high, spiked heel, black leather boots. AH of them had bodies that were incredible, too. Huge tits that had cleavage so deep that you could smother in it; small waists and large, rounded hips; flat, muscular tummies and wide, furry pudendas ... two black-haired, one blonde and the third a brassy red; their buns were full-cheeked, jutting domes of alabaster. They walked two abreast, military style, and in each of their leather gloved hands, they held an instrument of mayhem ... a lead-loaded rubber hose, a steel tipped martinet, a coiled bullwhip, a riding crop with a core of spring steel.
"You summoned us, Master?" the red-haired pussy said, bowing low before den Err. The others followed suit, groveling before the bald, bearded, potbellied man whom they towered over.
"This one," he said, pointing at me, "is to die at your earliest convenience."
"And the method, Master?"
"I leave that to your discretion."
The leather hooded amazons exchanged looks of pleasure.
"Very good, Master," red fuzz said, snapping her fingers.
Two of the Furies gripped my arms and dragged me to my feet.
"Say goodbye to Mr. Grue, girls," den Err said.
Trina and Loolie stopped frenching each other long enough to chirp: "Goodbye, Mr. Grue."
Then I was pushed through the door and into a long corridor. To be honest, I wasn't feeling too spunky at that moment. I'd blown the case from the very beginning and it looked pretty much like I was going to check out permanently. Trussed up like a chicken, I couldn't do any effective fighting. It was highly frustrating, to say the least.
The Furies formed ranks around me and we goose-stepped down the white hallway. I watched the perfect buttocks in front of me jounce and jiggle, the tight pink ass-holes peeping out from the deep cleavage, the crisp ruffs of pubic hair that fanned out below, and I wondered if my executioners would grant me a final wish.
Little did I know that that's exactly what they had in mind.
They took me to a small room equipped with a metal table, a desk lamp with a long, bendable gooseneck, a few metal chairs, a large wooden barrel and a long bench of the same material. It was right out of an anti-Nazi propaganda film of the Forties ... you know, underground leader is taken to Gestapo headquarters for interrogation ... except that the walls were not made of grimy, sweaty masonry, they were the same antiseptic white as everything else.
"Sit!" red fuzz ordered, pointing at the chair by the desk with her truncheon.
"What shall we do to him?" the Fury with sparse black pubes asked.
"Castrate him!" cried the blonde.
"Disembowel him!" said the woman with the dense black pussy fur.
"No, no," red fuzz said, tapping her hose on the desk. "We'd just have to clean up the mess afterwards ... remember?"
"Echhh!"
"God, he's got a big pud. Will you look at that!" said sparse fur.
I sat there while they compared the length of my flaccid cock to others they had known. I came out a quarter inch ahead.
"I've got it!" red fuzz exclaimed. "Let's shoot the son of a bitch so full of satyrion that his prick swells up like a telephone pole."
Everyone agreed that it was a fine idea. Everybody but me, of course.
"Hey, look, ladies," I said, "why don't you just shoot me and get it over with?"
"Because," blonde hair said, "that way only one of us would get the thrill of snuffing you ... this way we can all participate in your demise."
Then red fuzz came at me with a huge hypodermic syringe filled with amber fluid.
"Oh, Christ!" I said, lurching from the chair and heading for the door, legs pumping.
The sparse furred one swept my legs out from under me with a nifty judo move and I made abrupt contact with the hard wood floor. While I was still groggy from the impact, they stabbed me, holding me on the floor and shooting that vile shit into my arm. They injected so much of the drug into me that my arm looked like it had grown an extra muscle.
"That ought to get you hot-to-trot, Gruesome," red fuzz said. "I gave you enough go-go juice to stiffen up the bones of thirty men."
"God, would you look at that!" dense fur cried.
I didn't have to look. I could feel it. Feel the crazy heat washing over my face, feel the tension in my groin expanding, feel my cock surging, growing, throbbing. It was really scary, let me tell you. One second I was sitting there, pissing in my pants because I was sure they were going to kill me, and the next, I've sprung the biggest, hardest boner of my life and I'm raring to ram it up anything in sight. It was a hundred times worse than after the meeting hall my first night in the mansion. I mean, I would've knocked a hole in the wall with my fist and fucked the sheetrock to smithereens if they hadn't already made big plans for my erection.
"How'd you like to get that thing up your pussy?" blonde hair asked sparse fur, giving her a pinch on the cunt.
"You know it, mama. Right up to the hair!"
"There'll be plenty of time for that later, girls," red fuzz said. "First, I think we ought to teach this stinking snoop some manners."
"Yeah, let's see what the turkey is made of," dense fur said.
"Whup the stuffing out of him!" agreed blonde hair.
Without further adieu, I was jerked to my feet and hauled over to the low bench. The Furies moved it out away from the wall and then pushed me belly down over it.
Red Fuzz took hold of the hem of my robe and gave a yank, stripping me of all my encumbering clothing.
"Look at that hairy white ass!" sparse fur said. "We're going to have us a time."
The smell down at the level I was on was mind-boggling ... first off there was poorly cured leather, and then ... oh, brother ... there was pussy musk and buttfunk that would not quit. It might've been the drug, you know, sensitizing my smeller for all the scents that said: "GO FUCK." All I can say was that I was drooling and slobbering all over myself, and my bone had slipped in under the bench and it kept making loud thumping noises as it flexed and bumped into the wood.
SSSSWWWWAACK!
A red hot cable lashed over my bare buns and I bit my lips to keep from crying out loud at the pain. I bit them so hard that I drew blood.
"How's that, Gruesome?" red fuzz asked, pausing to watch the hideous welt appear in my flesh. "How's this?"
SSSSSSNNNIKK!
I jerked so hard that the whole bench threatened to tip over. These broads weren't fooling around. They weren't holding anything back. The ache spread over my whole ass, a burning, stinging sensation that slowly crept down the backs of my thighs and over the small of my back.
SSSSSPPPHHHUTT!
Fire roasting my skin, leather scourging my flesh.
SSSSMMMAACK!! SSSSTTTHHWAACK!!
The blows rained down on my posterior, a rain of agony. And as I writhed under the impacts, I could hear the hooded bitches laughing at my misery, hear red fuzz panting, groaning with ecstasy as she brought the whip across my ass one more time.
"Hey, I think he-likes it," one of them quipped. "His ass-hole opens up like a goddam barn door every time she...." SSSSSSSWWWEKK!!
"Uhh!" I groaned, the cry of pain slipping from between my clenched teeth.
"Did you hear that? You're turning him on," blonde hair said. "It's my turn now. Come on, give me a crack at him."
Somewhere behind me, somewhere beyond the fog of pain that settled on my body, the Furies changed places. Something moved in front of me.
"Go on, you earned it," sparse fur said. "Let him show you how grateful he is."
I opened my eyes in time to see a gloved hand reach down and clutch my hair. Pale hips moved in front of me. And then I saw the crisp red hairs, the heavy, pouting pink sexlips.
"You're going to lick my cunt, Gruesome," she said, twisting my head up, trying to rub her pussy on my mouth.
She got the side of my head instead. The smell was overpowering: a veritable den of foxes in heat, musky, nasty, and edged with the sharp, acrid odor of stale urine. I didn't want to put my mouth on any cunt that smelled like that.
"I don't think he understands," blonde hair said. "This will get the message through."
SSSSSSWWWWOTT!!
My butt exploded in pain; my mind exploded in joy. It was the drug, the satyrion, turning everything to joy. The stronger the sensation, the more powerful the pleasure. Even as the tingles rushed over the backs of my thighs, I opened my mouth and pressed my lips to the funky summit of her pussy.
"Ooooh, that's the way, Gruesome, baby."
She put a boot up on the bench beside me, opening her thighs to give me maximum access. Her hand in my hair forced my mouth down over the dripping lips, down over the long, hard nodule of her clit.
"You can have it all," she said.
"Get it!" sparse fur said. "Tongue that snatch!"
Bathing in the Perfect Light of Total Humiliation, I fell upon the aforementioned erect clitoris and began to suck its nasty length. The fumes from the gash below were so powerful that they made my eyes tear.
"Ooh! Uhh! Uhh-huh!" red fuzz moaned, shifting her hips, making her clit slip in and out of my lips like a tiny weenie.
"He's not really into it," dense fur said. "He's faking it because he thinks that we'll let him go."
"We'll let him go, all right," blonde hair said. "Let him go out with the garbage in a big plastic baggie."
SSSSSSSNNNUCK! SSSSSSWWWAPP! The whip sang.
But my drug-induced nervous system no longer believed that the impact of braided leather upon my buttocks should be considered hurtful. Thousands of neurons, soaked to the gills with satyrion, confused, overworked and underpaid, decided to hell with it and threw open their protoplasmic switches, signaling to the milling ganglia, to the insolent synapses: Joy to the World. Joy in whip cracking over my bruised buns. Joy in the rank flavor of pussy gone sour.
Writhing in the grip of the funky fever, I shoved my tongue deep into the hot, murky crevasse and swirled it about vigorously.
"Ooh! Ooh, you are a winner, Gruesome," red fuzz wailed. "Girls, he is licking my cunt and then some."
She held her snatch open for me, peeling back the heavy, loose fitting flaps. I stuffed my tongue into the nadir of her gash and found there a round, flexing hole.
"He's going up my pussy for real!"
SSSSWWWHHHATT!
"Ummmmmmgh!" I moaned into the red canyon; the overhanging clit, nasalizing the pleasure that rushed from beleaguered ass, that rushed from cruelly put upon taste buds, to coalesce in my itchy, tumescent crotch.
"Would you look at that bastard eat twat!! ! " blonde hair exclaimed. "Shit, he's gonna get some of this hair pie and right now. Here, take this." She handed the sweat drenched whip to sparse fur and then proceeded to push red fuzz off my face. When the titian tressed amazon protested, she said, "Share and share alike."
Her finger stroked my ears. "Nice little tongue," she said. "Do I ever have a hole for you!"
With that, she hunkered down on my mouth, spreading her thighs, dropping her fragrant, hair-rimmed gash right onto my open mouth.
SSSSSSSWWWWHHHHUTTT! , Ecstacy blossomed in my behind, a toasty wave of warmth that set my dick a-thumping and my ass-hole a-flexing. And the flavor of blonde hair's snatch ... so much cheesier than red fuzz's, but with less essence of pore ... was rapture to my palate. I slobbered over the shaggy blonde hairs, slipping my tongue into the tangy trough.
"Uhhh! Yes! YESSSS!" blonde hair hissed as my tongue surged up her pussy, pushing back the wrinkles, parting the juicy folds, the corrugations.
"The cretin is a glutton for snatch. Would you look at him go! His tongue is darting a mile a minute. Is he giving you a thrill? Is he?" dense fur asked, bending low and getting close to the juicy action.
"Oh baby, he is bringing me off and that's no lie."
"I wonder if he can taste the garbage man?" dense fur said.
"What do you mean?" sparse fur asked, coiling the whip for another lash.
"I mean that the broad there squatting on Mr. Gruesome's face, getting the benefit of all that deep tongue action, got herself fucked royally this morning by Regional the garbage man."
"Old buckets of come?"
"Exactly. He had that Tootsie Roll of his flying in and out of her pussy something wild and then he gave her one of his patented sticky gushers. It was all over everything. And I know for a fact that she hasn't washed her snatch out since."
"All that garbage man's come is still up there?"
"You betcha."
"How's that taste, Mr. Gruesome?"
SSSSSSSTHHHHHHUTTT!!
I was so far gone that I didn't care if a rhino'd been rooting up her cunt. I raised my ass to meet the stinging, lacerating blow of the whip. Delicious! The warm glow spread to my balls and I could feel the flocks of snow geese deep in my ass getting restless, talking about flight plans, air currents, getting ready to flap into the air, to flap right out my ass as I shot my turbid load.
"Did you see that? This bozo wants a flogging," sparse fur said.
"Nooooo," blonde hair groaned, "he wants to tongue my cunt."
"Well, he's going to get a flogging!"
SSSSSSSWWWAPP!! SSSSTHHHHOOOOWAAK!! SSSWWWUPP!!
Sparse fur blistered my ass with furious whip lashes, wheezing like a geriatric patient in terminal heat, grunting profoundly as the whip sliced through the air, uncoiling like a great, greasy black snake to explode into the quivering target.
"MMMMMMMM," I mumbled into the musky flaps, writhing under the exquisite titillation that the lashing afforded me.
Blond hair's hip flipping and ass shaking suddenly became very urgent ... and very violent. She bashed her orgasming cunt into my mouth and the sloppy maw smooched and sucked at my whole face, heavy lips clinging to my eyebrows to my cheeks, my forehead.
"She's had enough," sparse fur said, shoving the whip into dense fur's hand. "It's time he had a taste of real pussy."
Blond hair slipped away and a fresh pair of thighs straddled my face. Between the slim thighs I could see a few sprigs of coarse, kinky black hair and a pair of huge carmine twat lips, puffy and glistening with dew, that framed a much thinner pair of inner lips of the same hue.
"Do it to her!" dense fur ordered. "Do it!"
SSSSSSSWWWAP!
Smooth, slippery pussy lips met my tongue. I could no longer differentiate between the flavors, the savors of the various cunts. My taste buds were ransacked, useless, as was my nose. Everything smelled like pussy, tasted like pussy.
You could've shoved a boiled lobster smothered in butter under my chops and I'd have sworn that it was pussy.
I waggled my tongue inside her box and was rewarded by the squeezing of her sphincter about my tool. Marvelous slick heat, incredible drizzle of super-slippery juice met my inquisitive probe.
But she was not content to have me deep-clean her cunt.
"Oooh, this turkey needs something stronger," she told the others, pulling my tongue from her snatch with her fingers and tipping her hips up so that the hole under my mouth was no longer a pussy, but a poopchute.
SSSSSSSSHHHHUTT!!
Oblivious to the noxious fumes that emanated from the orifice in question, I pressed my tongue to the wrinkled ring. The heat was truly amazing. like she had a tiny furnace going up her ass. I intended on finding out. Pursing my lips, I gave her anus suck, making it pucker into my mouth, then I thrust with my tongue, spitting her like an apple on a jack knife.
"YEEEEEEEE!! ! " she warbled, bucking her hips frantically as she orgasmed.
There was no furnace up her pore, only more nastiness, but I didn't care. It was all the same to me ... until dense fur got a bright idea. Instead of shredding my ass-cheeks any further, she decided to turn her attention to the flexing pore that lurked between them. Instead of using the lethal end of the whip, she chose to utilize the heavy handle.
"How 'bout this?" she howled, spreading my cheeks and with a TTTHHHRAP! applying a blow directly to my anus.
That sure woke up the snow geese. My prostrate started vibrating like a plucked bow string and I started sucking the hell out of sparse fur's ass.
"TEEEEEEEK!" she wept, grinding her pussy into the bridge of my nose.
TTTHHHHWUPP!! TTTHHHHWWAAPH
Snow geese taking off. Wheeling about in my ass, hooting orders to each other, testing the wind.
TTTTH H H H H WWWOC K!! !
The first brave bird zooms through the tight opening. A delicious shudder ripples up my spine. Soon. Very soon.
TTTTH H H H WW ACK!! !
Then two white birds, followed by five, followed by twelve, and they are flapping, feathery wingtips brushing the rim of my ass as they fly south, as I start to come.
"Holy Mackerel! Would you look at that!" dense fur cried. "He's squirting all over everything."
Ooh, yes and it was wonderful. My dick thumping against the bottom of the bench, my sizzling seed lurching up the tube, to spew forth like gooey bullets, big white gobs spraying onto sparse fur's shiny black boots, dripping down the gleaming ankle, hanging like streamers of pale snot from the instep.
"You goddam insect!" she howled when she saw the mess I'd made. "I'm going to rip you limb from limb!"
CHAPTER TEN
The other Furies managed to pull sparse fur off me before she bludgeoned me to death. As I said before, they had big plans for my big dick.
They untied my wrists from behind my back and I meekly submitted to being pushed on my back on the bench while they re-tied my bonds under the bench seat so that my arms were tied around it.
You may well ask how it felt for me, Bascom Grue, the tough, hard-nosed private eye, to be handled like so much masochistic piffle. As I look back on it now, naturally it makes me want to puke, but at the time, under the powerful influence of an overdose of satyrion, it was pure bliss. I mean, they could've booted me around the room on my belly and I would've blessed them for it.
Once my wrists were securely bound, red fuzz reached down and picked up my prick. It hadn't shrunk an inch since the initial orgasm; it was still huge and rock hard.
"You got one hell of a prick, Gruesome," she said, "and I'm going to really enjoy having it sliding up my pussy."
"How come you get it first?" dense fur said. "I didn't even get any of his tongue."
"What's stopping you now?" blonde hair asked her. "With him laying there on his back like that, we can use both ends at once. Double our pleasure."
"That's for me," dense fur said, dropping the whip and throwing her leg over the bench. Her furry twat was about three inches from my chin. "What'dya say, bozo? How 'bout giving us a smooch."
I looked at the thick tangle of black hairs that covered her mound. In the center of the luxuriant growth were a pair of pale pink lips. They were completely hairless, like the lips of a baby.
She hopped forward three inches and the velvety lips touched my chin. So hot. So slick. So funky with the scent of woman-in-heat.
"Kiss it," she said, waving the tender labia just above my mouth.
I puckered up, pursed my lips and kissed her cunt.
"Yaaaaaas!" she crooned, mashing her twat down on my mouth, grabbing hold of my hair and jerking my face up into her crotch, causing my mouth to smack, smack, smack right into her pink clitoris.
Under the repeated smacking, the friction of my chin, my mouth, her labia came apart, opening like the petals of some enraged orchid, dripping with dew.
"Come on, use your tongue!" she ordered, making my mouth go bash, bash, bash into the nadir of her sex donut.
I speared her cunt on the first try. One thrust and I was root deep in her, my teeth grinding into her clit and her ass-hole simultaneously.
And did she ever start moving it! Those slippery, rubbery lips smooched all over my mouth, my nose, my chin and her thick rug rasped my face raw.
"Uhhng! Uhhng-gaa!" she cooed, as I gave her pussy what for.
Then I felt something on my dick. Something very hot and very wet and very heavy. I could hear red fuzz grunting and groaning and the others shouting encouragements.
"Ugggh! Owwww!" she whimpered.
"Come on, girl, cram that old rod up there."
"Put some backbone into it."
"You can do it."
"You're going to have the fuck of a lifetime once you get all that meat up there."
"UGGGGH!" she wailed.
I could feel her cuntmouth perched on the tip of my bloated bulb like a party hat on a hippo. She kept driving all her weight down on the relatively tiny ring, trying to force it to open further, to allow the monstrous girth of my cock to slip inside.
"OOOOOOH!" she said as the sphincter gave way a little. "Ooooh, girls, it's like being cherry all over again!"
She clutched at the neck of my cock and, as she let all her weight down once more, she pulled the hard length of meat towards her.
"I think it's going in," said blonde hair. "The head is going in."
"Uhhhhh, it's so big!" red fuzz croaked.
The bulb of my cock slid into hot heaven, hot, slick heaven. I wanted to give her a fuck in the worst way, but tied as I was, I could only lay there and for all intents and purposes be her animate dildo.
The cap only went in her up to the flaring rim, then it stopped. Red fuzz was disconsolate. She began weeping and tugging ineffectually at my choad.
"Let's give the virgin a hand, huh."
"Anything for a pal."
The two non-humping females, blonde hair and sparse fur, grabbed hold of red fuzz's thighs and when the partially impaled Fury lunged, they pulled.
"WAAAAAAAAAH!" red fuzz shrieked as my gross pecker slowly shoved up her snatch.
It felt marvelous. The cap was ironing out every wrinkle, every corrugation, every fold in her snatch, ironing them all flat. The juicy walls parted around the throbbing tip and in seconds I was hair deep in a very tight, very hot, very horny pussy.
"WAAAAAAHH!" she wailed, trying and failing to budge herself on my rod. She couldn't move an inch, up or down. "Help me!" she pleaded, moving her hips up and down frantically while her pussy stayed locked about the base of my cock.
Her fellow Furies then lifted where they had pulled.
The suction, the friction was truly mindbending. like a living vacuum cleaner had been thrust down over my pud. And the convulsions of her belly caused ripples inside her, ripples of feeling to race up her pussy, milking my raging hard on.
They only had her halfway up my pole when the dam burst once more. The snow geese took to wing.
"UHH! UHHHHHH!! " she whined as the gusher of boiling sperm filled her pussy.
The slippery liquid lubricated things instantly so that I could snap my ass up from the bench and make her cuntmouth slip up and down my shaft.
"God, he's coming inside her!" blonde hair said. "Look at all that white stuff."
"Oooh, I can't wait to have it going all in me and running out like that over my ass," sparse fur said.
I gave red fuzz all the come she could handle and more. I filled her and re-filled her until the backwash had coated her belly, her thighs, her buttocks, until it trickled down inside her boots.
"Get me off!" she hollered.
As her friends lifted her from my still fountaining cock, as broached pussy and glistening head parted company, I fired a last sticky salvo that shot straight up in the air, hurtling past her gooey clit, rocketing between her super abundant tits, and making a four point landing all over the front of her leather hood.
"Yuck!" said blonde hair, but her red-haired friend was out cold, oblivious to the mess sliding down the face of her mask. Blond hair let her slump to the floor and then started to straddle my cock.
"Ready for another go-round, Gruesome?" she asked.
"MmmmmmphI," I said into the convulsing folds of dense fur's pussy.
"Come on, you slut," sparse fur said to the delirious recipient of my tongue thrusts, "you've had five orgasms. I know because I've been counting. How 'bout climbing down and giving me a crack at a few?"
Reluctantly, the girl did as she was asked. Her hairy little snatch was absolutely dripping with my drool as she swung her leg off me, and those perky cunt lips of hers were no longer pink ... they were bright red from all the sucking I'd done on them ... and they hung wide apart, peeled way back with that peculiar, after-the-tongue-job, cooked look.
When sparse fur straddled me, she did so the opposite way that dense fur had. That is, with her face towards my feet and her tight little ass-hole smooching on my forehead.
The red hot ring squirmed its way down from above the bridge of my nose, onto the bridge of my nose, down my nose, and onto my mouth. My face was buried in the smooch crack and silky buttocks cradled my cheeks.
"Ooh, this turkey's mouth is right on my ass," sparse fur said. "OOOOH, he's licking me now!"
How could I help but lick something so blazing hot, so velvety smooth, something that convulsed with such frantic power, such febrile seizures? In truth, I made a glutton of myself. I feasted on her pore, giving it long, juicy laps that ran from cuntmouth to the top of her cleavage, pausing to swirl over the wrinkly ring.
And as she began to whimper above me, as her pore began to go all ga-ga in the hope that I might see fit to slip a yard or so of hot tongue up her ass, again I felt the heavy burden on my cock.
"Ohhh! Wow! He is big," blonde hair exclaimed, finding it next to impossible to impale herself on my drug-enlarged dick without help. "COme on and help me get this thing up my cunt. If you help me, I'll help you."
To dense fur that sounded like a good deal. The bench teetered as she climbed up on it behind blonde hair.
"Hey! No! Not like that!" blonde hair protested.
Sparse fur dragged her pore from my waggling tongue and pulled her thinly thatched snatch up to my forehead, giving me a mind-rattling view of the proceedings.
I hadn't realized just how big my cock had grown. I mean, wow! A veritable tree trunk. And that stupid hooded bitch with the dense cunt fur was actually climbing up on the shoulders of blonde hair, whose pussy mouth was tightly stretched over the dome of my dick, in the belief that her added weight would drive my monstrous tubesteak up the too-tight pussy.
"OHH! OH, NOOOO!" blonde hair whinnied as her legs buckled under the weight of the six foot amazon. Her pussy slammed down hard on my cockhead, and kept right on slamming.
Then something broke. The pressure suddenly eased and I found myself slipping up her torn pussy without any strain whatsoever. Physically, blonde hair had managed to accommodate me comparatively easily; mentally, it was another story. Not only had her pussy ruptured, never to be the same again, but her mind had also lost its cherry.
As I flipped my bone to her, making her pussy sputter and fart about the bristly base, she kept repeating, "Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no," like a stuck record.
And dense fur, who couldn't see too well from her perch on blonde hair's shoulders, was also somewhat repetitive: "How's that? Is it in yet? How's that?"
Then the lights went out. And I was buried alive in juicy cunt. Sparse fur ground her pussy down on my mouth, making her twatlips force themselves open, to slip over my moist lips. I opened my mouth and a heavy, sleepy rain of woman goo fell inside. I thrust up with my tongue, burrowing into the proffered tube, flapping it back and forth against the searing walls, making it flip and flutter like a long boneless whang.
"Huhhhhh! Uhh-hhuhhhhh! Huhhhh!" she keened, dragging her whole bottom over my face, seesawing the silky skin of thighs and ass and cunt over my pinioned head.
My hips kept flipping up from the hard bench, dept driving my engorged meat probe into blonde hair's loose and fuck ready pussy. I was the only one who was putting any kind of life in the screwing. She just hunkered there with her thighs around me, receiving stab after tube-rending stab, without moving at all except from the jarring impact of my thrusts.
"Oh, no," she said, softly, "oh, no, oh, no."
"What the hell is wrong with you?" dense fur said to the mindfucked amazon as she climbed down from her shoulders. She took one look at the glassy, far off stare in blonde hair's eyes and one look at the easy, rock 'em sock 'em way my huge pole was slogging up her pipe and she said, "Oh, no! Oh, no!"
"Huhhhhhh!" sparse fur moaned, shaking her ass from side to side, making her ass-hole smooch down over the tip of my nose.
"You've got to help me!" dense fur yelled at the girl humping on my face. She grabbed the gyrating Dury and shook her hard.
"Ohhhhhh, ummmmm, leave me alone," the squirming, hooded bitch said huskily. "Go find your own huhhhhhh tongue."
"No! Help me drag her off his cock. She's out of it. God, look at her eyes! She can't feel a thing. She's letting all that good red bone go to waste."
"Huhhhhh," sparse fur groaned.
"Come on!! ! "
When the hot, moist, fragrant maw lifted off my face, a gust of cool air washed over the goo it'd left behind. For a brief but wonderful instant, I looked right up into her fuck tube, up into the delicious pinkness. I swear I could see all the way to Mars.
Then the black booted leg swung over me. I craned my neck down in time to see the two Furies standing on either side of their fallen, but still rigidly upright companion. And I continued to give her deep penile massage, rolling my ass, dragging my nerve bundle over the slickness of her tubule, making her viscous lubricant trickle down the underside of my pole, down over my bloated balls, down my hairy asscrack in a hot, sensuous river.
Grunting from the effort, the two women gripped their comrade under the thighs and lifted.
Her pussy mouth slid up my cock, blubbering, drooling and I jerked my hips up, driving half my whang back inside her, trying to keep the amazing heat, the slippery walls about my tender meat.
"Uhhhhhhnghh!" they said, hoisting her up even higher. Her blonde pussy was all drawn out of shape by the size of the head that spitted her and the power of their lifting; her twatlips sucked at my cap rim, smooching way out from her body like a pair of chimpanzee lips.
Blond hair and I parted company with a wet, loud pop! A torrent of trapped lubricant and spent pre-come escaped her ravaged pussy and flopped to the bench under my ass. Dense fur and sparse fur hauled the insensate woman down the length of the bench, dragging her ass-cheeks on the bench seat. They dropped her on the floor beside red fuzz who had begun to moan and showed definite signs of coming around.
"Hold this slippery thing still," dense fur said, swinging a leg over the bench, hunkering over my glistening rod.
Sparse fur grabbed my cockshaft with both hands and said, "Oooooh! It feels so slick ... and it's throbbing ... God, ticking like a time bomb or something."
"Just hold it still," dense fur repeated, lowering herself onto the oleaginous dome.
I groaned as I felt the heat of her pussy, those petals that I had reddened with my lips, close on my dickhead. She groaned as she realized what kind of sacrifice she was going to have to make to accommodate me. It was still the same old story: giant penis and tiny twat. I might as well have been fucking grammar school girls. Except that these particular grammar school girls were six feet tall and had bodies that would not quit.
"God, you'll never get all that inside you," sparse fur said. "Not without killing yourself."
But dense fur, a huge dick rubbing into the entrance to her joy tube, didn't give a damn about her own personal safety. Impalement was the only thing on her mind. "Come on ... uggggh ... give me a push or something ... owwww!"
I rotated my hips, revolving the broad head of my cock in her pocket, swiveling it like the ball in a ball and socket joint, a very wet, very hot ball and socket joint.
"Oh, honey! Oh, baby!" she cooed, humping up and down frantically, trying to confine the churning bulb, to ram it deep in her body ... and failing miserably.
Sparse fur began to climb up on the bench, to get up on dense fur's shoulders, but the crouching Fury stopped her.
"No," she said, "not like that! That's what ruined her ... too much weight."
"Too much dick, you mean," sparse hair said.
"Just lean on my shoulders," the other Fury said, "give me something to put my back against."
The Fury did what her friend asked, putting her gloved hands on her neck and bearing down.
"Uhhhhhnnnnggghh!" dense fur moaned, driving her tight pussy down over the head of my dick.
There was a marvelous Bump! as her cunt yielded, stretched and slipped down over the flaring rim. My bulb was engulfed by slippery heat.
"Get me off!" she wailed, tears running down her cheeks. "He's ripping me apart!"
Sparse fur reacted, slipping her hands in under the sobbing woman's armpits and lifting, but she reacted too late.
Once I'd gotten a taste of that hairy pussy, I had to have more. I snapped my hips up from the bench brutally, slamming my meat into her tube. The narrow place that had stopped the forward progress of my cock, suddenly expanded, parting over the juicy knob, affording me another three inches of thrills.
"OHHHHHHH!! " dense fur screamed, clutching at my well-greased pole, trying to keep it from penetrating her further.
"How do you like that, Bitch?" I croaked from my drug-induced stupor. "How do you like my cock?"
I flipped my hips again, sending the pink battering ram back into her maw. I could actually see the effect it was having on her body, see the way it made her tummy bulge out from the outlandish girth. I was filling her to the bursting point. And on every hip flip I got my dick a little wetter, a little hotter. On the backthrusts, her pussy was so tight and the suction so great, that I dragged half her innards back with my probe. Her cunt lips, even though they were dripping with pussy juice, actually squeaked on my dick, sending thrill after thrill smashing into my medulla oblongata.
"UHHH! UHHH!" she howled every time I bottomed her, every time the huge log penetrated her to the sopping hair.
Sparse fur got so excited watching that she began to diddle herself. She didn't shove one or two or even three fingers up her hairless pussy ... emulating the size of my boner, she shoved her entire fist.
And while she was going to town, her comrade in arms fell into an orgasmic fit. She began to tremble all over, tits jiggling, thighs quaking, belly rippling, and then her pussy clamped down on my swollen choad like an iron fist in a hot buttered velvet glove.
"YEEEEEE!! YEEEEE UHH YEEEEE!! ! " she whined and sobbed, whined and sobbed, as the joy washed over her, as her pussy sphincter milked the thick base of my cock.
It looked like she was going to shake apart, to disintegrate under the power of the spasms that racked her. And, of course, the jiggling joy she experienced, was communicated through the medium of her juicy fuck tube to the tumescent length of my pecker. I began to wheeze and puff, snapping my ass maniacally, as the flurries of pleasure exploded in my nerve bundle, as they raced to heavy balls, to congested prostate. My ass-hole started to flutter, tickled by the tips of a thousand white wings. And I started coming.
"OOOOOOOH!" the spitted girl moaned as the initial, high pressure pulse splattered deep within her. Her eyes snapped open and they were wild with the fuck fever, as wild as any Sister's high on satyrion.
The lust to spurt was on me and I let myself go bananas, slamming my cock up her pussy, sending quarts of white goo shooting up there, teasing my joy, stretching it, making it extend like a strip of taffy, thinner and thinner.
Dense fur's hips commenced to churn, rotating in a short, elliptical orbit, forcing great waves of spent sperm to spritz from her pussy and flop over my nuts.
When the taffy finally parted, when my orgasm dwindled, the whimpering girl refused to dismount and continued to ride my rigid cock like a rodeo cowboy, cunt sputtering as it gobbled dick, one hand held high in the air waving to the grandstand.
Sparse fur had to remove her by force from the thick tool and when she did, the whining Fury, once so dominant, now so wimpy, threw herself on my come-drenched pudcap, stuffing as much as she could in her jaws and groaning, "Oh, God! Oh, God!"
At last I was getting somewhere.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The hooded dominatrix, her pate severely addled by the orgasm storm that raged through it, was clearly bent on self destruction. There was no way, short of dislocation, that she could have stretched her jaws far enough apart to accommodate the bloated head of my cock ... and if she had, in fact, managed to get me in her mouth, down her throat, she would have choked to death. But still she persisted, lashing her tongue over the slimy knob, smearing hot spunk all over the front of her black leather hood, swallowing as much of the sticky stuff as she could cram in her mouth.
"MY TURN!" sparse fur cried, thumping the gluttonous girl on the head.
"Oooh, that's the way," I crooned, "that's the way to do me. Go on, lick it, suck it, eat that gooey stuff."
"Shut up!" sparse fur said. "Just shut up! Don't encourage her or I'll never get her off."
"That's it, Sister," I said encouragingly. "Suck up all my spurt. Get that jizz."
The sniveling Fury grew even more incensed at my words and, snuffling and snorting like a hog at trough, she held the slimy pole in both hands, pumping frantically, squeezing the last tendrils of sperm from its turgid length, while holding her lips tightly clamped to the oozing slot.
"Stop it!! " sparse fur cried, her fist disappearing into her bald snatch.
Ooh, she was hot-to-trot, all right. I hoped that she was hot enough to get real stupid.
"Untie me, Bitch, and I'll give you the fuck of a lifetime," I said.
She gawked at me.
"Come on. I mean it. I was just playing with this cunt. You were the one I really wanted all along. I want to make you come like you've never come before. I want to put some of your tight pussy around my cock. Come on."
"Huhhhh! Uhh-huhhhh!" she whimpered, fist slogging, lips curled back from her white, even teeth in a sneering fuck pout.
"Look, I'll help you drag her off me," I told her. "Come on. God, just looking at you makes me want to squirt. Let me love you up."
Behind the leather hood, her blue eyes were so very hungry, truly "Lunie." She looked at her penis gobbling friend and whined. Then she knelt down and untied my wrists.
Free at last! Free to kick the shit out of these bitches and grab that stupid Hildy and get the hell out of the Halls of Luna, right? Not quite.
You see, I still had a slight problem ... the overdose of satyrion. I was still bound by it; my thoughts of escape were constantly being redirected, re-channeled; all my energy was focused on the Humping.
I could no more help what I did next than a river can help running downhill.
"You've had enough!" I snarled at the dick-licking Fury.
She ignored me and continued to pump the seepage from my nuts into her mouth.
I swung on her. An open handed swat that landed beside her leather covered ear with a loud SSSPPATT!
"Owww!" she groaned, her eyes rolling up in her skull.
"Get off my dick, you slut!" I ordered, giving her the back of my hand across the opposite cheek. SSSSSPPHHHFACT!! !
Her head jerked from the impact; her hands dropped from my meat.
"Don't hit her like that, you turkey!" sparse fur said, stepping in to protect her buddyroo, bending down and scooping up the sweat-saturated bull whip that the Furies had used to humiliate me, to scourge me.
The sight of that black snake coiled in her hand sent a red haze dropping over my vision. The memory of my submissive behavior was a rancid, festering sore that had to be excised, expunged. The air in the room was suddenly full of crackling, itchy static ... dangerous vibrations.
I grabbed hold of the end of the whip and jerked. The amazon slipped off balance and fell, colliding with her comrade, sending the two of them tumbling off the bench and onto the floor.
I rose from my seat, coiling the whip, delighting in the feel of the lead-loaded leather handle in my fist. My cock, still erect, still ready for more hot pussy, bumped into my chest, smearing sperm and slobber over my tits.
"You bitches like to dish it out, don't you?" I said, standing over the groaning Furies. "You get a big kick out of whipping the shit out of some helpless guy, don't you?"
"Uhh!" dense fur said, seeing my pendulous scrotum, and scooting for it with her mouth open, her tongue waggling.
"Shee-it!" I said, raising the whip, digging the swish of it uncoiling out behind me, the sizzling sound it made as it sliced through the air.
SSSSSSSWWWWEKKK!
"Owwww!" she cried as the bull whip cracked over her back, as the leather tip impacted with her generous buns. She clutched herself with both hands, rubbing the hurt and whimpering.
"You can dish it out, but can you take it?" I snarled, my hand jerking back, the whip following, uncoiling, hissing through the air.
SSSSHHHHUTT!
"Yeeee!" dense fur wailed as I crossed the first welt with a second, cutting a bright red X into the smooth flesh of her buttocks.
I watched with grim satisfaction as the way the dominatrix jerked under the lash, at the way her large tits quivered and her buns leapt, as the way she groveled at my feet.
"I think she-likes it, don't you?" I asked the still groggy sparse fur.
She shook the stars from her head and hissed, "You dirty son of a bitch!" And started to get to her feet.
One does not allow six feet of enraged, leather clad bitch to gain her feet. SSSSSHHHPOCKT!
The whip tip neatly passed between the full domes of her ass, delving into her crevasse only to explode directly on her pore.
"YEEEEEEEE!! ! " she howled, hopping about, clutching her heinie.
"Hey!" I said. "You like it, too."
SSSSSSSWWWAACK!! SSSSSSPPPPATT!! SSSSSSNNNIK!
I chased the screaming woman about the room, my eyes glued to her jouncing buns, to the red welts puffing up across them, my hand rising and falling, the whip hissing, striking on target, making her give a little jump in the air, only to come down panicked, with her legs pumping, trying to get away.
"YEEEEEEE! YEEEEEEE!" she whinnied, trying in vain to hide her full buns from the scrutiny of my whip strokes.
I merely lashed her hands until they were limp, like over cooked spaghetti, boiled in the heat of my rage.
SSSSSTHHHOTT!! SSSS WWWOTTTTT!! SSSSMMMAAAAKK!!
Round and round the room we dashed. She jumped to the beat of the lash, shrieking every time the merciless tip caressed her bottom. Gradually the tempo of her bootheels on the hardwood slowed ... even as the tempo of my whipcracks speeded up. The muscles of her ass, like the muscles of her fingers, were growing limp, exhausted from the torrent of abuse that I heaped on them.
Dense fur sat on the floor, moaning, following the grotesque foot race with her eyes, watching the big, white ass of her fellow Fury take on a hot, ravished red hue.
"Pleeeeease!" sparse fur wailed, dropping to her knees on the floor, panting horribly, touching her abused behind and wincing. "No more! Pleeeeease!"
"I know how you girls are," I told her, my own chest heaving with the oxygen debt of our little race, "you always say 'No' when you mean 'Yes,' right?"
"Nooooooo!" she cried. "I mean, yesssss!"
"See what I mean?"
SSSSSSWWWWAAAK!! !
SSSSSPPPPHUTTT!! !
"EEEEEEEM"
SSSSSTTHHHWOCK!!
SSSSSPPPPPATTTTT!!
"OOOOH! OOOOH!"
I stopped whipping the supine bitch, sweat rolled down my arms and chest, down my forehead into my eyes. She lay before me, sobbing piteously, making no attempt to shield her ass from further lashings, her welt-marked buns jutting up like snowy hillsides bathed in alping low. And between them, lower down in her fork, below the swollen bud of her anus, hung the pendulous and dewy lips of her sex.
"You want to fuck now, don't you?" I said, bending down and prodding the entrance to her pussy with the whip handle.
"Ooooh! Uhhhh!" she groaned, pursing her lips, pressing them to the high luster finish of the hardwood floor, lifting her hips, causing the thick end of the handle to slip a considerable distance up her twat.
"Get up off your face!" I commanded. "Get on that bench on your hands and knees!"
The leather hooded beauty obeyed, sniveling back the tears that came to her eyes as she bent over, as she drew taut the ravaged flesh of her ass. She knelt on the bench, sticking her over-heated bottom up for my perusal and immediate use.
I bent the head of my cock down and rubbed it into the juicy gash. Flurries of pleasure rippled up my dick as the squishy maw of her twat encircled my cap.
"Uhhhhh!" she crooned, bending even lower, until her tits dragged on the bench seat, so that her ass tipped up, exposing more slippery slot, offering me primo access to her pussy.
Again the size differential was ludicrous. There, truly, was the Elephant Man coupling with Rabbit Woman. My cock dwarfed her entire crotch, like the head and neck of some torpid denizen of tepid tropical seas.
"This is going to hurt you a lot more than it's going to hurt me," I said, grabbing hold of her hipbones with my hands.
I rotated my bulb in her love pocket, oiling the helmet for the penetration to come.
"Ummmmm," she moaned ecstatically, wagging her ass about, smooching the rough surface of the bench seat with hungry lips.
Then I steeled myself and simultaneously pulled her ass towards me as I flipped my hips.
"OOOWWWWW!! ! " she screamed as the wide head broached her pussy, the helmet rim spreading her cuntmouth, stretching it to the splitting point, forcing its way into her love channel.
There was that delicious Bump! as the rim popped into her cunt, as the whole seething bulb of my cock vanished inside her. And it wasn't just dick head that slid into her pussy, either. It was also those loose and flopping cunt lips, caught up in the general movement like a coat tail caught in a closing door, and forced in on themselves, forced right up her tube along with all my turbid meat.
"Uhhh! Uhhh! Uhhh!" she keened, shaking her head most violently, as if she could not believe that the terrible pressure, the agonizing pain, was really happening to her. "Oh, God, take it out! Take it out!! " she wailed, bawling like a frightened child.
This was no child, however, and I knew it. This was a monster in female flesh and I was determined to show her no more mercy than she had shown me.
"Uggggh!! " I grunted driving my cock into her breach, pushing the caught up folds deep in her pussy, turning her whole mound outside in.
She gasped and pounded on the bench seat with her fists.
It looked like a telephone pole, a huge, hairy red Telephone pole had been shoved up her snatch. And from the way she carried on, the sensation must've been similar as well.
"UHHHH! UHHHH! TAKE IT OUT!! ! " she screeched.
I pulled back a bit, drawing with the girth of my rod most of her external genitalia. Her cunt lips once again saw the light of day and they were a deep scarlet from the powerful friction of my cock. No sooner had they popped from her tube, than a gush of hot, slick juice followed, rushing down my shaft, easing the way for the next thrust.
"Uhhhhhngh!" I wheezed, pushing my cock deeper into her searing tube, feeling her begin to tremble beneath me as the head of my dick parted her slick folds, reamed out the foxy wrinkles of her box.
"Ooooh!" she murmured to the bench seat.
"Better, huh, bitch?" I said.
"Oooooh, God, yes!" she cooed, lifting her ass into my thrust. "Oooh, you're going so deep! Filling my pussy to the limit!"
It felt great to me, too. I let my ass flips slip into an easy pumping rhythm, driving my cock in and out of her box in a highly relaxed and sophisticated manner.
"You're doin' it so smooth...." she muttered, as my prick pushed in and out, in and out in slow motion.
Something moved under my ass. "What the...! "
It was dense fur. And she wanted in on the fun. She was on her hands and knees beside the bench and she was shoving her hooded face right in under my bums, between my legs which were straddling the bench seat.
"Mmmmmm," she said, nuzzling her face into my bobbing crack.
The heat of her breath washed over my ass-hole and tingles hit my nuts, my ass-hole flexed ominously, and the easy, debonair rhythm of my dick thrusts faltered. I gave sparse fur one hell of a vicious lunge.
"OOOOH!! " she moaned, wallowing in the power of the tool that spitted her.
"Mmmmm-oooohhhh...." dense fur murmured, her hot lips kissing at my winking hole, sending more flurries to my tumescent testes.
My ass jerked again, driving the thick rod with awesome force, ramming it to the hair in the kneeling girl's cunt, making her scoot forward on the bench from the impact.
"UHHH!" she whined as cock bottomed her, as the thrust pushed her, made her slide up the bench on her knees.
The heat that engulfed my brain pan was no longer the heat of righteous rage, of vengeance. It was the scorching heat of fuck lust, of come need, pure and simple, the room dissolved in shimmering waves of red. There was nothing but the tight cunt about my cock and the lips kissing my anus, the back of my scrotum.
My scrotum! The hungry mouth opened and sucked it in, sucked in both uptight balls, bathing them in hot slobber, lashing them with pebbly tongue, nipping them with sharp teeth.
My ass flipped violently.
"AHHHH!" sparse fur wailed, cringing under the impact of dick root upon her cunt mouth.
And my tender orbs were trapped in the woman's cheeks, held there stock still, even as my dick and ass moved. Every thrust meant a powerful tug to the bag, to the balls. And she began to apply a furious suction to her hairy mouthful, a suction that turned my knees to jelly, my brain to grilled cheese, and set my ass-hole flexing like it was sending Morse Code.
I thrust again, but I knew it was almost over. I could feel the geese wheeling about, feel the marvelous tension building, building.
"Mmmmmmpph!" dense fur hummed, sending good vibrations over my nuts.
"OHHH!" cried sparse fur as I bottomed her one more time.
Then, as I drew back, as the rim of my cap bumped over the corrugations of her pussy, as the smegmatic folds of my nerve bundle brushed hot buttered velvet, I shot my wad.
"Uhh! UHHHHH!" sparse fur whimpered as the deluge, bubbling, murky gizm, splashed over her ovaries.
Dense fur, sensing the frenzied activity of the orbs in her cheeks, began to whine at an excruciatingly delicious pitch ... a frequency that perfectly complimented the thrumming note struck by my orgasming cock. She thrust her nose into my winking ass and snorted her joy directly into my pore.
As I rode out the wild, dancing waves of pleasure, as I filled and re-filled sparse hairs widely distended pussy with my gummy brew, I could sense that the power of the sex drug was fading. This would be my last orgasm.
In more ways than one.
I was so wrapped up in the spurt joy that racked my cock that I failed to notice that two of the vanquished Furies, red fuzz and blonde hair, had managed to regain consciousness. Not only were they awake, but they were very unhappy.
"Make one wrong move," red fuzz hissed, stepping behind me, holding the edge of a long sharp knife to my throat, "and I'll open you up from ear to ear."
I stopped screwing.
"Get that slut off his balls!" she snapped to blonde hair, who began smacking the sucking woman with her hand until she released me.
It took about five minutes to restore order to the room, to get the orgasmic Furies to come out of their ecstasy. When it was finally accomplished and they ringed me with weapons at ready, red fuzz removed the blade from my jugular vein.
"So, you are one hell of a fuck, Gruesome," red fuzz said. "Lots of guys would be dead after what you've been through, after the whipping and the fucking, right girls?"
"Yeah!" they said in unison.
"So big deal!" red fuzz sniggered. "You're still going to cash in your chips. We got our orders, you know."
I just glared at her.
"Well, girls," she went on, "what shall it be? Stabbing? Shooting? Hanging?"
A chorus of murmured assent went up on the last suggestion.
"Strangle the turkey!" said sparse fur.
Red fuzz picked up the bull whip from the floor and held it in both hands with a two foot length between them. She crossed her wrists, making a loop of the whip, and then proceeded to throw that loop over my head, bringing it tight about my neck.
"Say bye-bye, Gruesome," she chirped, drawing the noose tighter.
I couldn't breathe ... I couldn't swallow ... I couldn't decide which was worse: the pain of the whip cutting into my throat, blocking my windpipe, or the intense pressure of the blood backed in my head, threatening to explode my skull like an over-ripe cantaloupe.
Just as the fog began to lower for the last time, as I heard the singing in my ears, the angel's choir, the door to the interrogation room burst open.
"Hold it right there!" Brother Slaney said. In his fist he held a snub-nosed, blue steel .38; it was pointed at red fuzz's right eye. "Drop that goddam whip and back off! Face the wall and spread 'em or so help me I'll snuff all of you!! "
As the stunned Furies reluctantly obeyed the masked, robed gunman, he said to me, "I got here just in time, huh, Bad Bascom?"
I rubbed some circulation back into my face. "How the hell do you know my name? Who are you?" I said.
"Let's say we have business interests in common," he said.
"You're a P.I.? "
He nodded. "I was hired to do the same thing as you, to rescue some rich person's daughter from the clutches of the Church of the Waning Moon."
"Son of a gun! I knew there was something about you that didn't ring true," I told him.
"Yeah, well, you aren't exactly the typical Child of Luna, either."
"What do you say about us busting this whole shitty scam wide open?" I said.
He smirked. "My thoughts exactly. Shall we tie up these amazons and then go raise a little hell?"
"A pleasure, Brother Slaney, a pleasure."
CHAPTER TWELVE
After trussing up the Furies good and tight, Slaney and I went out hunting for high priests.
"A turkey like that," I said as we headed down the hall to den Err's suite, "has got to have a file or something with all his blackmail material, names, dates, payments somewhere close at hand
"That sounds logical," Slaney said. "But it's probably locked up in a safe someplace."
"I've got talented fingers, Brother," I said, grinning.
He smiled and shook his head. "Everything old Drury said about you was true."
"You knew that old shamus?"
"I used to work for him. That's how I got your 'nickname. Man, he used to talk about you all the time. I never believed any of the stories then, but now...."
"He never had a picture of me or anything. How'd you match up the name with the mug?"
"Your last name, Brother Grue, and the legend of Bad Bascom's bone," he smirked.
"Good enough," I said. "That's some nice deduction."
Slaney pushed open the door to den Err's penthouse and went in low, in a shooting crouch. The main room was empty. We quickly checked the other rooms, the closets, bathroom, everything. We didn't want to be surprised by a gaggle of Moon worshippers. There was no one around. I opened the exit door leading from the bedroom an had a peek down the hallway. Nothing.
It was time to get cracking.
Working like beavers, we began to systematically check every possible unlocked place of concealment. We found zero. So, we moved on to looking for a hidden safe or strong box.
"Jackpot!" Slaney said, swinging back a large oil portrait of His Radiance and exposing a shiny black safe.
"Stand aside, son," I told him. "Watch that door...."
"Sure thing, Bascom," he said.
The safe wasn't a particularly good one and the mechanism was simple but tricky because of the shoddy workmanship. I cracked it in just under eight minutes.
"Well, would you look at that!" Slaney said, as I drew out a shoebox full of very incriminating photos and negatives.
"You could go into the porno business with what's in this box," I said. "Or the blackmail business...."
Slaney gave me a wry look. "Before we burn this shit, let's have ourselves a peek at the dirty laundry of San Francisco's high society. What do you say?"
"As long as we make it quick, and you keep one eye on that damn door," I said, dumping the contents of the box out on the desk.
Den Err had the goods on a lot of folks, all right. There were snapshots of every member of the cult, male and female, doing just about everything possible to do to and with the human body without croaking. I mean, there were pictures of gang bangs, of anal gang bangs, of oral gang bangs, of all girl gang bangs, of all guy gang bangs, of male and female gang bangs; there were pictures of cult members in bondage, cult members in deep humiliation, cult members dominating, humiliating, cult members being whipped and cult members whipping; there were lots of animal shots, too, Dobermans, shepherds, mastiffs, Danes furiously humping this debutante, that scion of a wealthy family, this heiress, that fast food franchise baroness ... all with a romantic haze of vaseline about the action.
"I don't believe this!" Slaney said, holding up a photo of a female cult member, tied head to foot with coarse rope, being assaulted in every orifice by a pack of assorted mongrels. The look on her face was one of pure ecstasy.
"It's the drug," I said, leafing through the pics. "Makes even the most stuck up rich bitch act like she's got the funky fever...."
"So I noticed."
One of the photos caught my eye. Not all of the subjects were well-to-do and suitable for blackmail.
"Do you know her?" Slaney asked.
"Yep...."
"Well, let's rip it up. The negative, too."
I pulled on my lower lip. "No, I think I want to save this one," I told him. "Here stick it in your pocket and I'll get it from you later." Being totally naked, I had no pockets of my own.
Slaney stuffed the photograph in his robe and swept the photos back in the box. "Did you find the one you were looking for? Your client?"
"Yes, it was there. And yours?"
"Un-huh, big as life. Shall we burn this mess?"
"Definitely. One at a time," I said, carrying the box over to the fireplace.
We'd only gotten through about a third of the blackmail photos when sounds from the bedroom alarmed us. Someone was in there.
"The other door," I whispered. "Someone came in from the hall. Keep burning. Do them all. I'll go have a look."
Slaney nodded and continued to ignite the squares of photographic paper.
I moved quickly to the closed door to the master bed room and very slowly turned the knob. It made a hollow click as the latch snapped back, but the noise was masked by the ruckus going on in the room beyond.
"Goddamit, you slut!" said a familiar baritone. "Spread those cheeks!"
I pushed the door open a crack.
"Hold 'em open! That's it," den Err said.
He was stark naked, kneeling on his huge round bed. Under him was a girl just into her teens. She was very slim waisted and had a perfect heart shaped ass, which den Err was bent on screwing. The big man was rubbing his already oiled cock into her deep crack, nudging it into her tight pink pore.
"Owww!" she said, wincing as he pushed his dickhead at her drum-tight hole. Her face was full of the satyrion flush, her small titties swung from her chest, and wisps of her long brown hair were damp with her tears.
"You haven't felt anything yet, slut!" His Radiance informed her. "I'm going to ream out your tight little butt until you scream for more...."
"Oh, no. Please ... I," she stammered.
"Wider! Hold 'em wider!"
The girl reached back and once again took hold of her ass-cheeks, spreading the perfect domes, giving him access to her virginal anus. Her pore was horribly stretched by her grip, drawn out into a thin, puckering slit.
Den Err's monstrous knob lunged at the wrinkly slit.
"Uhhhgnnnn!" he grunted, ramming at her sphincter.
"UHHHHH!" she squawked, dropping her cheek to the bed spread, eyes bugging from her head at the intense, burning pain. Her hands fell limply to the covers.
The head of den Err's cock had punctured her rectum. That greasy, drug-bloated pole stuck out of her dainty ass lewdly.
"So hot! So tight!" the bald man wheezed, stroking her thighs, her belly, her tits, reveling in the feel of her muscle ring convulsing about the neck of his choad.
Slaney put his hand on my arm and peered through the crack. His jaw dropped.
"Done?" I whispered.
He nodded, his eyes glued to the girl's distended anus and the huge cock that had it spitted.
His Radiance flipped his hairy hips again, driving a bit more of the thick probe into her bowels.
"UHHHHH!" she wailed into the chenille of the bedspread, chomping at it with her teeth, clutching it in her fists and twisting, twisting to shut out the pain.
"Teen slut gonna hump...." den Err mumbled, his eyes horribly bloodshot, his nostrils dilated. "...gonna ream...."
"Oooooh!! " she cried as he dragged his pud back from the seething depths. It was a different sort of cry. A high-pitched whistling sound, like the cry of a small bird. It was a cry of joy.
Slaney muttered something under his breath and there was the harsh metallic click of the hammer of his revolver being drawn back to firing position.
As he raised his hand to shoot, I stopped him pinning the gun and his wrist to the door jamb. I shook my head. Killing was too good for a degenerate baboon like den Err.
"Love it, huh?" the bearded Dutchman crooned, slogging his sock back into her bottom. The dainty pink ring smooched way up his greasy shaft and lay there flexing, convulsing, milking its tormentor.
"Uhhhhhhhh!" the girl whined, her mouth opening, her tongue lashing out, licking at the bedspread.
"Love it!" he repeated, jerking his pud from her and whipping it back, making her sphincter slide to the very base of his dick.
"OOOOH!" she gushed, lapping furiously at the soggy chenille, reaching up between her thighs, up to clutch at the heavy, sperm filled orbs of den Err's scrotum. Her tiny fingers manipulated the hairy balls, stroking them, squeezing them, trying to coax another monumental ass fuck from his deeply buried cock.
"If you want it," he wheezed, "you have to beg for it."
"Uhh?"
"Tell me how much you want my cock up your ass...."
"Ooooh," she murmured to the spread, wiggling her smooth buns in the air, making her anus pucker and suck at the root of his cock. "I want you to do it again."
"Do what again?" he said, grinning from ear to ear.
"Uhhh, ooooh, I want you to ... make it go in me...."
"What? Tell me what?"
"Your oooooh your big cock. I want it to go in my ass. Make it go in and out. Oooh, please, Please fuck my ass."
All the while her fingers tugged and toyed with the fat man's bloated testes. He knelt there and wallowed in the sensation of his cock being balls deep in a teenager's ass, of his balls being fondled by aforementioned teenager, and of her begging and pleading with him to continue sodomizing her.
"I want it ... please!" she sobbed, her fingers moving higher to encircle the besmirched shaft.
"You want to do it?" he groaned. "You want to make it go in and out?"
"Uhhhhh!"
Den Err leaned back and withdrew his whang halfway from her pore. Her tiny fist closed about the hairy base and then began to pull the whole thing towards her, to cram the slippery cock right up her ass.
"Uhhhhhhhh!! " she wailed, spitting herself clear to the ring her fingers made about the cockroot.
"Such a nasty little ssssslut!" Sigmund croaked, his eyes slitting with pleasure.
"Uhhhhh!! " she whimpered, making the probe slide in and out.
"Enough!" den Err snarled, slapping her hand away and beginning to screw her in earnest. He put his hands on her smooth buns and leaned into her, driving his cock into her ass, deep and hard.
"Uhh-uhh-uhh-uhh," she moaned, a curious sing-sing as she was brutally bounced on the bed under the thrusting of his angry member.
His ass was flipping at an incredible rate of speed, making his balls flop every which way, into his ass, his thighs, her thighs, her cunt.
"I'm going to shoot come up your ass, tart!" he gasped, his cock a diving red blur, disappearing into the tiny hole between the round cheeks.
It was then that the door to the hallway opened. It caught den Err and his bed partner completely by surprise. And Slaney and I were just as stunned as they were.
"You lie!! ! " Hildy Knutsen screeched, pushing the door open. She stood there, framed by the jamb, completely naked, her right hand behind her back, her left hand pointing an accusing finger at the high priest. The look on her face was pure madness. Her eyes were bulging, bloodshot, wild and her mouth was contorted by a manic grin, teeth clenched, lips curled back.
"Uh. ... uh" den Err muttered, his mouth opening and closing reflexively, a fish out of water.
The girl who lay under the high priest's sweaty potbelly, who was impaled on his rigid rod, just blinked her eyes, gawking at the nude teenager who confronted them.
"You know nothing of Truth!" Hildy cried. "You desecrate the Perfection!"
"Sister Hildy, please, if you will just wait outside...." the fat man began, making no move to remove his cock from the girl's ass. "I'll be only too glad to counsel you...."
"You counsel me!" she shrieked, falling into a fit of hysterical laughter. "You who have never truly seen the Clear Light, who have never bathed in the Reflection, you who violate the laws of Mother Moon?"
Slaney shot me a worried look. He didn't know that Hildy was my client's daughter. I was a hell of a lot more worried than he was.
"Sister! I command you to leave My Presence!" den Err cried.
She giggled. God, she giggled! The sound of that bubbling merriment erupting from her throat, escaping her tortured lips made the bile rise to my mouth.
"Very well," she said, taking her hand from behind her back.
A galvanic shock arced through my body. I kept thinking: Move it! Move it! But the door opened in slow motion. And my legs moved in slow motion. And Slaney could go no faster than I.
Behind her supple and naked back, Hildy drew den Err's own gun, the chrome plated Nambu.
The high priest of the Church of the Waning Moon's jaw sagged, his entire face went slack. He began to push at the buns under his hands, to try to escape the anus that held him tight.
Hildy raised the heavy gun in one hand, held it at arm's length, aimed it and squeezed the trigger ... all in one perfectly smooth and relaxed motion.
Slaney and I were half way across the room when it went off, not close enough to catch powder burns, but close enough to catch the spray from den Err's exploding skull.
The gun recoiled violently, and since Hildy'd never fired a gun before, she was unprepared. The chrome gun jerked up and out of her grip and went flying over her shoulder into the hall.
"Oh, Jesus! Jesus!" Slaney kept saying over and over.
I told him to go call the homicide squad while I helped the teenager out from under His Radiance. Hildy just slumped down in a corner and dropped off into the comparative bliss of catatonia.
She was still sitting there when Detective Ramon and his goons showed up.
I tried to explain things to him, rationally, but as usual, he wouldn't listen.
"Look, Badass," he said, smacking his fist into his palm, "what we got here is premeditated homicide. With two eyewitnesses. Your little kooky client there is going to get the gas chamber. And I'm going to nail you for an 'aiding and abetting' rap...."
"What?!"
"...I told you, Grue, fuck with him and I'm going to fuck with you."
"You really think he was quite a humanitarian, don't you?"
Ramon's eyes flashed. "They'll make a martyr out of him. like Dr. King...."
"Why you greasy little moron!" I ranted. "You don't know your ass from your mouth. I'll show you a goddam martyr!"
"If you get violent, I'll have to restrain you," he said hopefully.
"Gimme that picture, Slaney," I said. And give us some privacy. I think the Detective here will want to be alone to have a look at it."
"Stay where you are boys," he said.
I shoved the picture in his hand. He looked at it.
Believe me, as much as I hate that bastard Ramon, if there'd been any other way to handle the thing, I wouldn't have shown it to him. I wouldn't do that to a dog.
The hurt in his face hardened and he barked, "What are you waiting for? Get the hell out! Leave us alone."
When the door closed, he took out his lighter and set fire to the picture. The picture of his daughter, Marjorie, being raped by Sigmund den Err, the great humanitarian, being raped while bound hand and foot, being raped and loving it.
"I want to be alone for a minute, Bascom," he said.
"Sure, sure," I said, leaving him to his misery.
That was the first time the little weasel had ever called me by my right name.
When he came out of the room and faced his subordinates he scowled and said, "Let that girl go."
"But sir, the murder...." protested one uniformed officer.
"What murder, you dirt bag? Who said anything about a murder? This religious nut got too much of his own medicine and blew his own brains out."
"But, sir!"
Ramon looked at me. He didn't smile. He didn't have to.
