groggy, but not enough to let her forget she was in some kind of danger. Then without warning something locked over her mouth and she was gagged so tightly it hurt. Her screams were just muffled little sounds.
An ice-cold hand touched her ass and chills ran through her body. Mother cold hand on her warm ass-flesh, spreading the globes apart. She strained at the straps that held her down, but they only bit her flesh without giving an inch.
She felt something touch the entrance of her cunt and she instinctively tried to pull away from it, but couldn't. It slid slowly between the lips of her vagina, up into her exposed, unprotected cunt. A warm, familiar object. Even in her state of fear and unclear head she recognized the feel and shape of a man's cock entering her tight pleasure cove. It sank into her until she felt the hairs around it tickle her ass before pressing tight against her buttocks.
Kay had a hundred thoughts flash through her mind, but the most satisfying was one that told her it was a practical joke Tom had concocted and was now playing on her. She relaxed a little and felt the throbbing meat pump in and out, gaining momentum in that familiar way just before the discharge of gratifying juice on the walls of her insides. She moved to meet the thrusts of the penetrating lance and felt the cream shooting into her, firing its venom in spurts, then the two hands squeezed her buttocks tight together and the spear slowly withdrew, still hard, leaving her in a state of building excitement, but unsatisfied.
The hands disappeared. There wasn't a sound in the room. Then that cold blast of air swept over her again. Moments later she heard the little brass bell ring three times, a door opened and people were rushing into the room.
'Are you all right?' Tom Dunn was saying as he removed the gag and blindfold. Someone else was untying her arms and legs and she was quickly free. Tom helped her to a sitting position and asked again if she was all right.
'Yeh. I guess so,' she answered, smiling at him with a knowing look, hoping he'd give away the joke. But one look at the tears in her brother's eyes and she realized it must be more serious than she thought.
'What happened?' Tom asked. 'I want to know everything that happened… every little detail.'
She went over the facts quickly at first, then again with the little details about the cold blasts of air, cold hands, and how his cock felt as it entered her body. She was given a glass of wine and asked to go over the facts again. The girls were shooting questions at her about how it felt. They wanted to know if he was brutal, mean or cruel, while Tom was trying to get a clue as to how it was accomplished. But Kay didn't have a mind for the kind of details he was looking far and he gave up when the group began drinking to relieve the tension. And they were soon back to the spirit of having a party.
As Tom sat on one of the mattresses drinking a bottle of beer, with Stella's arms draped around his neck and her mouth over his ear, blowing and kissing it, he began to think that maybe he was capable of divining up spirits. Kay certainly didn't seem any the worse for the ordeal. She seemed to be delighted with all the attention she was getting, telling her tale over and over to each and every member, who listened attentively to every word she said. She was suddenly a very important person. The only one present who'd been fucked by the Devil himself, she thought.
But Tom wasn't very pleased. He just couldn't accept the supernatural aspect of the whole thing. He couldn't explain how it was done, but he felt sure someone was responsible for this little game, who was just as human as the rest of them. But he knew one thing: whoever it was – it wasn't one of the other members. They were all in the kitchen with him. And Kay couldn't have put that gag on herself… so it had to be an outsider.
As the others drifted into their sex games, forgetting the fright of the evening and remembering their long weeks of going without sex, Tom sat on the mattress talking to Charles, while Stella went about her own playful acts on his hardening cock.
'Maybe you're right,' Charles said, with a very serious face, 'but just the same, I wouldn't take any chances.'
'Oh, don't worry! I don't intend to do anything to bring down the fires of hell, until I'm sure I know what it is. But I'm going to check out every possible clue to this thing.'
CHAPTER TEN
When Arthur Klein reached the age of forty, he began having spells of depression. For seven years now he fought these defeatist thoughts, telling himself that life wasn't as bad as all that – but losing ground to the depression when he looked around him. He owned a profitable lumber yard that didn't require more than a few hours of his time a day; he owned all the property that made up about a quarter of a city block. The stores, bowling alley and garages brought in enough additional income to allow him to live very comfortably. And still he felt as though his life was slipping away without him really enjoying any of it.
It was on his forty-seventh birthday that he came to the conclusion that the important thing missing from his life was sex. Or to be more exact – not enough sex. His wife had been a good mother and housekeeper, but she didn't keep up with the times, he thought, letting herself get fat and old-fashioned, like the other women in the neighborhood. Sex was just a now-and-then-thing, that just didn't satisfy his thirst. But when he began to look for outside sources, he noticed that he was always drawn to the girls, not the thirty-year-olds he had told himself were the best kind. He was drawn to the teenage girls in the brief clothes that left little to the imagination.
'I was born about twenty years too soon,' he would say to the group in the bawling alley, and the response was unanimous – they all felt the same way.
'When I was a kid, you had to work hard to get a piece of ass. Now the girls practically rape the guys, someone would say.'
'And the kids nowadays don't appreciate it from another.'
But after a series of propositions to these seemingly 'sex starved' girls, Art came ta the conclusion that being rejected was worse than going without it. He was at his lowest level of depression when his nephew Charles called to tell him about using the store for a social club. The perfect answer, he thought. He'd be helpful, get them to like him, and pretty soon they'd be inviting him to their places… even that didn't work out the way he thought. However, he was determined to get in on their action and had several advantages in his favor. The most important was the fact that he could watch them through the skylight; the second was the fact that his hobby was photography. By putting the two together, he concluded, he'd be able to blackmail the group into taking him in.
Week after week he watched from the roof as the club had their parties without the faintest hint of sex. And he was growing more and more discouraged, sitting in the chill night air watched and thinking – all negative. If they did have sex, the logical place would be in the bedrooms, he reasoned, and he couldn't look into the bedrooms. And then they'd probably do it in the dark which meant he couldn't photograph them anyway. Not without exposing himself with the first shot he took. Like everything else, he told himself, there were just too many obstacles.
Then, just when he had convinced himself that it was a hopeless case and had given up going to the roof to spy, he decided to take a peek at their Halloween Party. He arrived just in time to see his niece being disrobed, in the dim light of the red and blue spotlights. It was obvious that he couldn't take any pictures under those lighting conditions, so he didn't bother going back for his camera. But by the time the white spotlight was turned on he was mesmerized by the performance and didn't want to miss any of it. Just slipping his cold hand inside his pants and holding his throbbing prick gave him a thrill. The sight of the bodies, when the orgy started, was enough stimulation to bring him to the peak of excitement. He sat there staring with wide eyes, imagining how those firm tits would taste, how their wiggling asses would feel and what it would be like to sink his cock into their tight little cunts. He came in his pants with very little coaxing from his hand.
The following week was hell for Art, as he lived with the question of whether they would have another meeting like that or not. If they did, he could take his pictures and begin with the blackmail.
He took his pictures the following Saturday, developed and printed them in his own darkroom, and began to get cold feet about confronting the kids. He hated himself more now than ever, but just couldn't bring himself to come out in the open to make his threats. That's when he began working on another plan – scaring them with their own performance.
