'Let's go about this scientifically,' Tom finally said. 'First of all, what do we know about this thing?'
'Not a damn thing,' Charles moaned with discouragement, with Jay nodding agreement.
'That's where you're wrong,' Tom said, pleased with the opportunity to show off his superior intelligence. The challenge would have even been welcome if it weren't for the fact that it threatened the club, which was giving them better sexual entertainment than they could ever hope to find elsewhere. 'We know for a fact that it's not caused by passing traffic; that it's not coming through the transoms; and based on the shape, with the vague appearance of eyes and mouth, we can assume it's manmade.'
'Not necessarily a man from this world…' Charles added solemnly.
'Okay. But let's not jump to conclusions. There's nothing to prove that it's absolutely a spiritual being either. That's what we have to find out.'
'Suppose it is?' Charles pressed.
'We'll deal with that when the time comes. However, I strongly suspect it isn't and we should go on that assumption until proven wrong. We can start by trying to duplicate the light ourselves. Once we've found out how it's done we can find the one who's doing it.'
For the balance of the week they spent every night trying to duplicate the glow on the wall, visiting novelty shops and experimenting with variations of the commercial means of projecting an image on the wall. By Friday night they had come close enough to the image to satisfy themselves that it was possible for someone to create to glow – but they didn't have all the answers to how it was done without them knowing, or how it was made to weave and move in that ghost-like fashion.
They didn't discuss the mystery with any of the other members; their first consideration was not to frighten anyone away, and the second was Tom's conviction that one of the members was responsible for 'the joke' and he didn't want to tip his hand. However, Charles continued to dwell on the possibility that it was supernatural, having read several books by now on Satanism and feeling it was very possible. His display of nervousness convinced Tom to take some precautions.
'If it's the Devil,' he said, 'we sure as hell don't want to get him mad at us.'
Tom had to admit that was sound advice and made his plans accordingly.
The meeting had a much more relaxed atmosphere this week, the members noticed almost from the time they entered the back door. There were no surprise guests; no new rules or announcements from Margaret Leche to shatter their nerves. When they entered the store they saw that tonight the blue and red spotlights were already lit, giving the room a less frightening effect than the pitch-darkness of previous meetings. Stella and Cynthia were on either side of Tom, behind the lectern, with a much more casual appearance than before. The final treat was when Tom bid them to sit on the pillows and make themselves comfortable.
'We are gathered here tonight to partake of the fruits of life otherwise denied us by the outside world,' Tom began, speaking in a calm, natural voice. 'We are here to release our frustrations; to experience each other's desires by giving and taking. Through these experiences we gain a much better understanding of life and a deeper love for each other.'
As Tom drank from the chalice and sewed his priestess, the members relaxed into an even better mood, with only Charles and Jay aware of the complete absence of any mention of Satan. The girls served the congregation from the chalice, without the usual chanting from Tom, which in turn seemed to create a lighthearted approach by the two girls as they served the wine.
'Tonight's meeting will be conducted by our newly ordained priestess – Sister Cynthia,' Tom announced, then stepped away from lectern and took a seat facing the audience. Now that everyone's eyes were focused on Cynthia, Tom carefully scanned the members, keeping an eye on the wall at all times, and signaling Charles and Jay that nothing had happened.
Cynthia had only been advised about an hour in advance that she was to conduct tonight's mass, which left her unprepared for the task. She stammered through some phrases Tom had used, in an attempt to bring the group to a sense of seriousness, but decided to drop it, since everyone was silent anyway, listening intently for the role they were going to play in tonight's warm-up to the orgy. However, she had discussed some ideas with Stella, to relieve the pressure on herself by bringing the girl into the act. They decided mostly to play it by ear, with Stella acting out the part she had played for Tom, giving the air of ritual to whatever Cynthia stumbled onto.
'Brother Frank,' she beckoned, turning on the white spotlight. But Frank Rizina hesitated, showing a definite reluctance to step up to the center. 'Many of our members have gone through indignities and even the pain of being whipped, while others have watched with enjoyment,' she spoke to the group, in a tone of seriousness and authority. It's not fair for some members to refuse to go through with their part in the services.
Frank was the shy, quiet type, but Cynthia's little speech was worse than the ordeal, as far as he was concerned. He got up and presented himself to the female demons, hating himself for having to be shamed into participating.
Stella removed his cape, while Cynthia fled his hands behind his back, made him kneel and strapped his ankles together. Unfortunately, she didn't have the faintest idea of where she was going with the torture ceremony. Her mind was a complete blank, not even capable of recalling any of the suggestions from the meeting Tom had held behind the bar. However, Stella busied herself by putting on a show for the audience with her hands caressing and teasing his naked body. Frank's limp cock drew a great deal of attention from an inquisitive Stella and a fascinated audience.
As it was turning out, the real torture for Frank was his inability to raise a hard-on. Stella by now was kneeling before him, giving him suggestive looks, with her mouth opening into a small, perfect 'O' shape, her wet tongue slithering around her lips in a slow sensuous preview of what was coming. She removed her cape in a tantalizing strip tease, but without arousing the sleeping cock.
'Paddle his ass!' Margaret's familiar voice rang out. A round of chuckles and giggles came from the crowd.
While Stella fondled and kissed the sleeping male member, Cynthia summoned Frank's girlfriend, Joan, up to the stage, removed her cape and directed her into a kneeling position behind Frank, where the girl pressed the contours of her body into his back. Joan reached her arms around his chest, hugging him tight, pressing her tits into his back and grinding her cunt into his buttocks. His mind went wild with the sensation of her hard nipples digging into his back and the feel of soft cunt-hair slowly rotating on his sensitive ass, but still his cock wouldn't respond.
The audience was enjoying the performance, wise-cracking and laughing at his inability to get an erection. The only thing Frank could work up was a sweat. He cringed at the embarrassment of it all, telling himself that a gorgeous body was humping his back and another sucking his cock, so get hard you prick!
With Stella's head down on his genitals, Cynthia had very little trouble standing over her and pushing the hairy bush between her own legs into his face. The three girls worked at their projects without letting up, only checking now and then to see if Stella was harboring a stiff in her mouth. But she wasn't.
By using sign language, Charles got Tom's permission to join the group. He got behind Stella, whose dainty little ass was waving in the air, and sheathed his sword into the depths of her dew-filled cunt. Jay wasted no time getting into the act either, jamming his cock into Joan, after a little struggle to get her in position.
Now the scene really got wild, with everyone's hands grabbing and feeling, mouths sucking or biting around, over and under Frank, who suffered the worst letdown of his life, as his rod refused to respond.
Margaret Leche refused to remain a spectator any longer. She searched for and found the ping-pong paddle, approaching the group in the center of the spotlight with a sinister look in her eyes, with the approval and encouragement of the crowd.
Whap! She planted a blow on poor Charles' unsuspecting ass, causing him to give out a yelp. A pink glow, in the shape of a ping-pong paddle, glistened on his right buttock. She gave the left side a matching glow. Instead of complaining, Charles drove his cock deeper and faster into the burning walls of Stella's juicy cunt.
Whap! Margaret planted one on Cynthia's ass, almost causing Frank to bite her cunt. To get better leverage, Margaret peeled off her cape and swirled it into the air like a matador, letting it sail across the room to a dark corner. Whap! The sound of Cynthia's other cheek receiving a duplicate tattoo.
Whapp! The sound was, louder and the blow harder on Jay's ass. Whapppp!
Margaret stood for a moment with a glazed look in her eyes as she sought the next target. But before she had a chance to strike again, Tom and Hans had her by the wrists, confiscated the paddle and tied her over the back of a chair. The position turned out to be ideal, they thought. They had her wrists tied to the front legs of the chair,
