Chapter 8

The huge giant of a man smiled secretly to himself, a kind of childishly innocent smile, as he gazed around the living room full of well-dressed, softly talking people. The air around him was filled with the tinkle of ice in glass tumblers, the low, musical hum of cocktail conversation, and just the barely perceptible promise of excitement in the looks that shot from one guest to the other, inviting, teasing, and luring challenges from one to the next.

Jackson stood with his huge arms crossed formally across his chest, like some kind of Arabic bodyguard, watching the guests with moronic enchantment, as though they were putting on a play for his benefit alone. In particular, he watched two people: his boss, Peter Lessing, whom he always kept on eye on, and Laura Wilson. As for Lessing, Jackson felt a deep, almost dog-like devotion to the man who had found him in the gutters of skid row and elevated him to the position of trust and responsibility he now held. Jackson knew that it was only through Mr. Lessing's kindness that he was alive and happy today: he owed everything to his benefactor, and would have done anything his boss told him to.

As for the other person who drew Jackson's half-witted but undivided gaze, Laura Wilson, she moved back and forth unaware that the burly giant could hardly take his eyes off her. But Jackson kept staring in a way that was not so much lusting as it was fascination - the fascination a child might have with a promised toy. For Mr. Lessing's friend, Abby Farrington, had already pointed the beautiful little blonde woman out to him, and Jackson could hardly wait to meet her - and play with her. He wondered excitedly how long it would be before his boss's friends began to play their wonderful games... like they always did at these parties.

"Laura, darling, are you enjoying yourself?"

Laura Wilson turned quickly to face the familiar voice, and then shrank inwardly as she realized it was Abby Farrington.

"Yes, lovely, thank you," Laura replied politely, and quickly moved off towards the drinks table, hoping to catch a glimpse of her husband Bill. She didn't catch the almost venomous glare that Abby threw at her back as she retreated.

Laura didn't want to talk to Abby, didn't even want to see her. Since the last weekend, when she and Bill had spent such an orgiastic and humiliating two days at the Farrington's beach cottage, she hadn't seen either George or Abby once, and that suited her just fine. Laura wedged herself in among the crowd at the bar, managed to grab herself a fresh glass of whatever the party's hosts were serving as punch, something exotic and very strong, and then moved back out of the crowd of people around the table, thinking of what had happened the weekend before.

After that terrible experience in the cabin of the Farrington's sailboat, Bill and Laura had had a long and soul- searching conversation, suddenly freed from all inhibitions about discussing their predicament by the violent shock of the unnatural act they had just allowed George Farrington to involve them in. They had both admitted, in all honesty, that, in spite of their moral repugnance at what they had done, they had still become physically excited, no, ecstatic, during the course of the act. But they had agreed, no matter what the consequences, to refuse to participate in any more of the Farrington's perverted schemes.

They had gone up to the beach house from the boat landing, and had curtly refused the drink George had offered them. Instead they had informed him that he could do whatever he wanted, that Bill's job and even their happiness in Oak Park was not worth the humiliation and degradation that they were going through as a result of George's blackmail.

Laura took a healthy swallow of her punch, and gazed around the crowded living room of the Lessing's palatial home, her eyes coming to rest on George Farrington's deceptively charming face. She looked quickly away, and he didn't see her. But his face, so seemingly rational and sincere, brought back to her with complete clarity his response to their ultimatum the week before.

George and Abby had listened quietly to the Wilson's somewhat hysterical, and yet fully convincing resolve to end their association with the Farringtons. George knew, although Bill and Laura didn't, that he never really planned to use what he knew about Bill's shady past; at least, he had never planned to use it to run Bill out of Oak Park. He had used it, and intended to go on using it, to supply his own sex life and that of his wife's with interesting and new faces.

But as George had listened that weekend, he had realized that the Wilson's just weren't going to be able to take much more - and it didn't upset him that much. As far as he was concerned, he knew he could find a lot more willing subjects of his obscene manipulations than the Wilsons, and besides, he had thought to himself, Laura Wilson is never going to really put herself out completely... not while her husband is around. She would never outgrow that puppy love of hers.

But George had known, as well, of their plans for the Wilsons at the Lessing's party that weekend, and had realized how upset Abby would be if she didn't get the chance to carry through on her own little practical joke. And so he had very deftly convinced the emotional distraught Wilsons that, rather than force him to tell Bill's boss everything, they should be willing to accept a compromise.

Of course, Laura had known nothing of the Farrington's waning interest in them as the subjects of their perverted sexual needs, and she still didn't know, as she wandered aimlessly around the crowded living room. She only knew that, when George had offered them the compromise of his promise to keep forever silent about Bill's past, in return for their full participation and cooperation in both that weekend at the beachhouse and at a party of some friends of theirs the next week, she and Bill had accepted. Of course, they had talked it over first, and had realized that George might not be intending to keep his promise; but still, they had finally decided to accept his because their continued life in Oak Park was at least worth taking the chance. What could they lose, that they had not already lost in the suffocating closeness of the cabin on the Farrington's boat?

The rest of that weekend had been sheer torture, but they had survived it. It was amazing to Laura, and to Bill too, that the Farringtons could find any pleasure in simply using the unwilling bodies of their guests in spite of their obvious distaste and reluctance... but apparently that didn't bother George and Abby. In fact, the more turned off they became by the whole proceedings, the more the Farringtons seemed to enjoy themselves.

And now, as she walked unknowingly past the attentive Jackson, who still stood immobile by the door, Laura realized that this evening was probably going to contain even more humiliating concessions on her part. But she knew she could bear them, if only because it would be the last time she would have to.

"Attention everybody, attention!"

It was the host's, Peter Lessing's voice that boomed over the crowded room, silencing the people that stood around expectantly in little groups of twos and threes.

"I think everyone's ready for the main course of the evening, what do you say?"

There was an enthusiastic murmur from the group, who were evidently well aware of what was now going to happen.

"All right then! What are we waiting for?" came a very masculine voice from one side of the crowded room, and suddenly, amid wild exclamations and giggling laughter, the whole assemblage suddenly began undressing, without preamble, or even a moment's hesitation. It was as though a nonverbal but familiarly understood cue had been given, and the response was a sudden eruption of activity.

Laura stood off to one side, completely amazed at the transformation that had come over the group. What had been a normal, even sedate cocktail party, now had suddenly become a frenzied and laughing tangle of arms and legs, of various and sundry pieces of clothing that were quickly shed and hurled around the room at anyone who happened to be standing nearby. At once, Laura realized what was going on, and what was going to happen. She didn't have to be told that this group had done the same thing many times before, and yet she wondered with fearful curiosity what her part in the monstrous game was going to be.

She didn't have long to wait before she found out. She saw George Farrington crossing to her from across the room, his powerfully built body completely naked, his huge cock swinging limply heavy against his hairy loins as he walked. She knew she couldn't afford to run, couldn't afford not to go along with whatever was going to happen, and so she waited until he got up to her. Her head swam with the liquor she'd consumed, and she wondered whether that punch had been doctored with the same kind of persuasive aphrodisiac that she'd fallen victim to so often the past two weeks.

"Well, Laura, aren't you going to get undressed?" George's question was more a command than a statement, and she began automatically to obey. She removed her clothes quickly, until she was standing in only her brief bikini panties, her smoothly round breasts left free to fall unencumbered into the cool air of the crowded room. As she undressed, she looked around for her husband, Bill, and at last spotted him on the other side of the room. With a start, Laura saw that Abby Farrington was standing in front of him, teasing his shirt on his manly chest, and letting one hand play games with the belt and zipper of his sports slacks. Bill looked up at that moment, caught his wife's gaze, and smiled bravely, as though telling her silently across that crowded room, that everything was going to be all right, and that after this one last trial, they would be free forever from the Farrington's perverted curse. Laura smiled back at him in answer, and then saw Abby looking at her with such an undisguised look of anger and hatred, that it made her laugh. Her laugh seemed to serve as a cleansing for her frightened soul, and as the young wife turned back to face her tormentor, George Farrington, for the last time, she smiled challengingly at him as well.

"Well, George, what now?" she said bravely.

George grinned into his neighbor's defiant face, and without a word, summoned Peter Lessing to his side.

"Ah, Mrs. Wilson, my dear!" Lessing said, "We have quite a surprise for you this evening."

"No doubt," Laura retorted, amazed at her own brashness and lack of fear. Perhaps it was the punch. Her head was already spinning terribly, even though she'd only had two glasses. Yes, she thought unconcernedly, they must have doctored the punch. Suddenly, Laura was aware that she was being ushered up to a small stage in one corner of the living room, which had been hidden from view before by a large curtain. She noticed that everyone in the room now was naked, over twenty-five people, and that many were already engrossed in every kind of manipulative foreplay imaginable, sprawled here and there around the room on pillows and cushions that had been brought out from somewhere. As she walked, Laura tripped over a couple, falling on the floor and bruising her shoulder. I must be drunker than I thought, she thought to herself dizzily. But maybe that would get her through the embarrassment of whatever her hosts had planned for her... at any rate, she hoped so. She didn't like the way the two naked men were hustling her toward that stage or the way many of the people in the room were turning their heads and bodies so that they could see the stage without any trouble.

And then, she was on the stage, and found herself lying on her back, staring worriedly up at the ceiling. What was it? What were they going to do to her? She closed her eyes in sudden dread, and hoped that she could survive it without complaint.

And then she heard an amazed gasp from the crowd of people surrounding her, and felt two large, ungainly hands pulling at the silkiness of her panties, forcing them down over her now trembling thighs, and exposing to the smoke-filled air her defenselessly presented loins. She hadn't either the strength now, or the will, to open her eyes. Through her now drugged brain, only one thought managed to penetrate: the hope that whatever was going to happen would happen quickly, and be over with.

"Ready?" she heard Peter Lessing's excited voice after a few moments, and she tried to close her arms over her helplessly exposed breasts as she felt the hot breath of a man breezing across her stomach.

"Ready," came an answer in a heavy guttural voice.

Laura's eyes popped open at the sound of the deep voice that boomed out six feet above her head, and she stared with sudden panic as she looked up to the underside of the largest penis she had ever imagined, jutting straight out from Peter Lessing's valet's body in magnificent but frightening erection, curving slightly upward toward the incredibly bulbous head.

"Oh, noooo..." Laura gasped aloud. Jackson's feet were on either side of her head, and his hairy muscular legs rose from the small stage like giant monuments to the threatening phallus at their apex. Laura sank back horrified into the mount of cushions where she lay, all her courage and strength sapped by the sight of his animalistic nakedness.

"Well, Laura, now you know what's expected of you, don't you?"

Laura turned her head to the side, and stared into the obscenely smiling face of Abby Farrington. She could see that George's wife was enjoying every moment of her paralyzing fear, reveling in the helplessness she saw written all over Laura's innocent young face.

"This... this is your idea... ?" she managed to whisper, still stunned by the enormity of her predicament.

"Yes, dear..." Abby answered her quietly. "Now we'll just see how strong you really are. Jackson here is going to give you the time of your life, and we're all going to watch. Sound like fun?"

"You're sick," Laura said, suddenly lucid. "You're all very, very sick."

"Yes, my dear, and by the time Jackson is through with you, you'll be just as sick as we are," Abby laughed easily. "Go on Jackson," she said to the man still standing above Laura, "it's time for that treat we promised you."

Laura stared with disbelief as Abby stood up, and walked to where Bill waited for her, his face twisted in impotent rage as he realized what the Farringtons planned to subject his wife to. But Laura, realizing that any show of rebellion at this stage might ruin any chance they had to escape the Farringtons once and for all, managed to smile weakly at him, telling him without words that he should restrain himself, and that she would survive this last indignity with the same success she had survived all the others. And Bill returned her smile, giving her hope, and restoring the strength that she'd lost. Bravely, she turned her face up to the half-witted giant who stood above her, gazing with determination into his curiously gentle eyes.

"All right, Jackson," she said, "I'm ready."

She uttered a silent prayer for herself as the giant bent to kiss her, his big teeth showing through his half-parted lips. His breath was strangely sweet, and she made no sound as his heavy lips sensuously caressed her helpless neck. The aphrodisiac accented the physically electric touch of his sensuous lips upon her bare skin, and her legs weakened as he leaned his huge body on top of her.

His massively swollen cock lay against her thigh, almost reaching to her waist and its ungodly hugeness outlined against her defenseless flesh frightened her. She looked for her husband, and saw that he was sitting next to Abby Farrington, and her fingers were teasing the hardness of his erect cock as he gazed with disbelief at what was happening to his wife. But Laura knew he could not prevent Abby from seducing him this evening, anymore than she could prevent the child-like but dangerous Jackson from taking her; and the realization that Bill was to submit unwillingly to Abby served to give Laura courage to face her own terrible test.

Laura stared at the lustfully staring eyes of the group of strangers that had now pressed close to the stage, peering lewdly at the exotic enchantment of her own naked body. They were all paired off in groups of two, fondling, teasing, manipulating each others bodies in wanton lasciviousness, and suddenly, Laura's mind was filled with anger, with a rage that consumed her drugged brain.

They don't even know me, she thought angrily, they don't care what happens to me. They only want a show that will excite them, that will give them some kind of perverted kick. Well, what the hell, flickered through her tortured mind, if that's what the bastards want, then I'll give 'em a show they'll never forget!