Chapter 9

Wednesday morning Janet slept until eleven o'clock. She had done the same since coming home Sunday night after a hazy weekend that seemed like a dark nightmare of pleasure and yet horrible degradation for her.

She and Greg had said nothing about their experience, but had gone straight to bed. She could remember making love with Martin and Greg, and somehow an experience with Darleen crept into her mind. She was physically exhausted until she woke up Wednesday. Most of the first two days had been spent sleeping. Greg had made love to her the night before and surprised her with his new found knowledge. They had found new pleasures over the weekend and were eager to show them off to each other.

She pulled herself out of bed and reached for her robe that lay on the floor. Greg had not bothered to pick it up when he had left for work.

She was amazed at the change that had come over him. He had been completely taken by their experience and all he could think about was sex. Their life had changed in the last few days. His interests were centered around nothing but the special party they were scheduled to go to tonight. Darleen had told them about Grant's Tomb in the car, but had not mentioned anything further to her about it.

Martin, however, had discussed the matter with Greg. The two men were eager to go, much more so than Janet. She sensed that something was amiss with Darleen. The older woman had been too obsequious and too friendly. Although Janet did discover she liked Darleen a little more after the weekend. She had gotten to know her much better and couldn't help it, even if she did feel guilty about what had happened to her.

She had never known such pleasures, but still, it seemed wrong to her. Greg, on the other hand, had seemed to enjoy himself so much, though she dared not speak about it, thinking it would only anger him. He could always say she started it. Besides, it was fun and wouldn't last forever. They would grow tired of it. A few weeks at most, she thought as she brushed her teeth.

Oh dear, she would have to hurry. Her appointment with the hairdresser was only forty-five minutes away and she wanted to look perfect for the night. Greg said they would meet some important people at the party and it would be good for business as well as fun.

"They should be here in a few minutes," Martin told Peter Grant. "We told them to meet us at ten."

"I'm looking forward to it," the shorter man replied. "If she's everything you say, we should have a real ball."

"Don't leave me out," Deborah interrupted. "Darleen told me that Greg is a man to be reckoned with in bed."

"That's true," Martin said. "She said that he hardly knew a thing when they first started. But by eight o'clock Sunday night I was starting to get a little jealous. He really put it to her. He seemed to be some sort of sleeping beauty. It just took the right teacher to get him to wake up," he said, putting his arm around his wife's shoulder and looking at her like a father whose daughter had just won a scholarship.

"Where's Monroe," Darleen asked. "I wouldn't want him to miss out on the fun for all the world."

"Don't worry," their host said, smiling. "He has been thinking about it all day and is really ready. I only hope she isn't too shocked by his looks. He's not what you'd call a handsome man."

Monroe watched them laugh from a distance. He knew that they were talking about him but didn't mind the laughter. If it pleased Peter to laugh about him, then it was alright. After all, none of them had ever done anything to hurt him.

He grinned and turned to the door as it opened. A beautiful young woman, her blonde hair piled high in ringlets entered the club, a young man about the same age right behind her. Monroe had never seen them before and suspected they were the new couple.

"I'm Mr. Richards," the man said hesitantly as his gaze wandered around the club. "We're supposed to meet the Kellys and Mr. Grant here."

Monroe smiled. His wide mouth spread hideously across his rough face. This was the girl they had told him about, he thought. Mr. Grant is a god. Never before had he met a girl like her. And now, thanks to his employer and friend, he would have her tonight.

"Please," he said. "This way." He led them toward the two couples standing near the dark curtain. A few of the diners lifted their heads to watch the girl in the baby blue cocktail dress as she and her husband followed the ugly giant across the room.

Greg laughed a greeting to Martin and they were introduced to the Grants. Monroe left them alone, not wanting to seem as if he were imposing.

"Who was that bruiser at the door," Greg asked.

"My bodyguard. He's most helpful."

"I don't think I have ever seen a more ugly man in my life," Janet said, genuinely in awe of the huge man, but trying to seem sophisticated at the same time.

Peter told them Monroe's story as they walked behind the curtain to a large door. He took out his key and unlocked the double lock, then motioned them to ascend the staircase.

The men talked while Janet thought about the bodyguard who had seemed so polite. He acted somehow as if he had been waiting for her especially. Of course, he probably had special instructions to meet them at the door and take them to Peter Grant. She always enjoyed being watched by men, but not leered at. He's just a dumb animal, she thought, pushing the sudden anxiety from her mind. He meant no harm.

She had no idea what the party was going to be. She had supposed it would be a dinner party in the private rooms above the main club. She had heard Greg speaking with Martin about the excellence of the upper rooms. Though Greg had changed a great deal in the last few days, she thought his enthusiasm was for the food Martin had told him about. Greg said nothing to her when she had casually asked during the drive to the Tomb.

It must be special, perhaps a surprise. She knew she would spend the night in bed with Martin after they left. It was obvious and she didn't really mind it. Once or twice a week for a few weeks wouldn't hurt. Greg didn't object, but seemed to look forward to being with Darleen. If that was the case, then she should not object, but make the most of whatever would come of the night.

At the top of the stairs they entered the first door on the right. The room was blue, covered with drapes. Four other couples sat on red pillows on the floor. The men rose as they entered. One by one Peter introduced the newcomers to the special club members. Most of the men were about Martin's age, or a few years younger. The women were in their late twenties and exceptionally beautiful.

It was apparent to her that they were all affluent. The men all wore black ties and tuxedos, as did Greg, but theirs seemed to fit better and they wore them more comfortably.

Everyone held a tall frosted glass. A waiter brought a tray and Janet took a glass. It was filled with a light red liquid that tasted much like punch, but with a strange, haunting sweetness to it. "What is it," she asked Martin.

"Something from the islands. It will do you no harm," he said, then added with a warning smile, "but watch out for the kick."

Janet didn't understand why he laughed. Surely he wouldn't think of spiking this punch as he had done to her earlier. They could not possibly do something like that in a place where all these wealthy and important people congregated.

Later, when everyone had gotten to know each other, she heard Peter talking to the huge bodyguard. "I think we are ready," he told Monroe who stood by the door. The bodyguard walked into the hall and locked the door at the top of the stairs and then locked the door to the room from the inside. He stood like a statue and nodded to his employer. Peter took a seat and spoke with Martin. She didn't hear what he said, but thought it had something to do with either Monroe or the door. He nodded several times in that direction and the two men laughed.

Monroe knew what the two men were talking about. He was pleased that so much notice was being paid to him tonight. He would be the center of attention and wanted to perform well in order to please Peter. He looked at the girl that would soon be his and smiled inwardly to himself. Yes, he would please his boss very, very well tonight.

His large hairy hand turned the dial beside him and the lights dimmed to almost darkness.

"Tonight has a special treat for us donated by none other than Martin and Darleen themselves." Peter Grant said from his sitting position. As he spoke one of the curtains parted, displaying a large white screen. Janet turned as she heard a curtain open behind her, exposing a motion picture projector. Monroe walked to the machine and turned it on.

Janet took another large sip of her drink. The glass was almost empty. She had never tasted anything like it. It was like a mixture of strawberry and cantaloupe. A waiter took her glass and handed her another without her asking then passed the tray to the other guests as they replaced their empties with the glasses he gave them.

Lights flashed on the screen. A small whirring sound came from behind her as she listened to Peter. "We have two new members with us tonight. You have met them. And now you are about to see them in action." Janet did not quite hear what he said but she gathered that he had been speaking about her and Greg by all the turned heads that looked in their direction.

Martin knew exactly what Peter meant. The light from the screen reflected on his lewdly grinning teeth. This was going to be fun he chuckled. Really fun.

Janet watched the white sands of a familiar California beach roll across the screen and felt herself becoming extremely light headed. She gave a puzzled look down at the drink. No, she thought, shaking her head. He wouldn't dare do it here. Besides he was never near the drinks. He couldn't know which one would be mine.

Deep in thought about the drink, she didn't notice the house on the screen. She looked up when she heard Peter speak. "You will all recognize Martin's beach house. Everyone here has been there at one time or another. With the exception of these introduction shots, this whole film was shot last weekend. It took a lot of work getting it developed in time for tonight."

Last weekend, Janet thought, suddenly alarmed. Martin didn't have a camera. There must be a mistake. Ten seconds later she knew it was no mistake. The screen flashed with the whiteness of bare skin. The lens zoomed away from the skin until the whole ten foot square bed was in view. Janet gasped.

That was her on the screen. She was with Martin. She started to rise, but was too dizzy. She turned to Greg, but he was gone. There was no trace of him in the room. What was happening? She looked helplessly back at the screen, her throat contracting painfully. She wanted to scream. Everyone was enjoying the film. In living color on the wall she was astride Martin. Janet watched herself in horror. His penis was hidden deep within her as she rode him like a horseback rider, his rigid cock disappearing into the crack between her thighs, so that only a tiny little stretch of it was showing, wet and glistening.

"You all know about the hidden cameras," Peter said to the group at large. "But of course, the new couple had no idea that they would be photographed. Looks just like you," he added, turning to Janet who could not take her eyes off the screen.

"This is part of your initiation into the inner circle, Janet," he said. "You should be proud that you turned out so well in the flics. Most of the people here did not turn out nearly as well," and then he turned his attention back to the screen.

As Janet watched, she remembered everything that had happened to her during the weekend. The scenes switched often. Like a psychedelic film, the projector was revealing every exciting moment of her lost weekend.

She looked around the room for Greg. The couples on the pillows were undressing each other in the semi dark room. Janet could see that the couples she had been introduced to were not together. She looked to the screen to see Darlene and Greg, then back to the room, searching for her husband.

All the people in the room were almost naked now and playing with each other. None of them had engaged in actual copulation, but that was not far off, she could see. But where was Greg? If all these other people were going to do it then she and Greg could too. She wanted to do it!

Her mind was not her own. She could feel the fire between her legs. The room was hot, but she did not want to strip. Not by herself. A hand rested on her shoulder. Expecting to see Greg, or at least Martin, she was surprised when she turned.

Peter stood over her, his swollen penis jutting out from his body. One of the women stood nude next to him. "That is only part of your initiation," he said. "It's hot, don't you think? Let's take off your dress and get naked."

She did not want to, not here like this with a perfect stranger. "Where's my husband," she asked, an alarmed expression on her face. "Where's Martin?"

The idea of being in a room full of nude copulating strangers excited her, but she did not want to be with one of them. She wanted one of the men she knew.

Peter pointed across the room at his wife, who was straddling a man lying on one of the pillows. "There," he said. "There with my wife is good old Greg. He's one in a million, that boy. It took him no time at all to get into the swing of things."

She could not believe it. She staggered to her feet. The drugged drink had hit her like a dozen martinis. She could hardly navigate as she walked through the naked, squirming bodies sprawled on the floor. The room flashed with different colors, nearly blinding her. On the screen scores of still shots flashed. Pictures of her with Martin, Greg and Darleen... Oh, God, she said aloud as she saw herself with Darleen on the screen, the two of them in a wild lesbian embrace with her own face sunk tightly between Darleen's straining thighs.

She tripped over another pillow and fell to the floor, her head beside her husband's. The euphoric look on his face needed no explanation. He, too, had taken the drug, she thought. A laugh brought her eyes up to Deborah who was sliding herself up and down on Greg's swollen shaft. The delight in her eyes was too much. Janet could not take any more. All of these people were fucking and she had no one, no one except the men on the screen and in the strange distorted haze of the drug it suddenly all seemed so unfair... so unfair... and... and sick...

She picked herself off the floor and started for the door. She had to escape. They were all insane. Not even in Rome would they have done this, she thought. They were all crazy... all crazy. As she walked, the flashing lights from the screen dimmed. She reached out for something to grab and steady herself in the darkness.

The screen flickered a few more times and died. The film clip had ended. Half conscious, Janet felt a strong hand lift her and carry her across the room. She felt the man take a small step up onto the tiny stage that was covered with pillows directly below the screen that was being shut out by the closing curtains.

The hands worked eagerly at her dress taking it off quickly, but carefully, not damaging her garment. She hadn't the strength to open her eyes. Her ears barely heard the moaning and gaspings as couple after couple raced to wild orgasm in the room around her.

"Ready," she heard Peter's excited voice after a few moments. She was completely naked and vulnerable, lying limply back into the mattress, she shuddered and tried to close her arms over her exposed breasts as she felt the hot breath of a man breezing across her stomach.

The man stood up. "Ready," he answered in a heavy guttural voice.

Her eyes popped open at the sound of the deep voice that boomed over six feet above her head. Oh no, she thought, as she looked up to the underside of the largest penis she had ever imagined. It jutted straight out from his body in magnificent but frightening erection, curving slightly upward toward the large bulbous head. It was ten inches long and had an incredible diameter.

It should have belonged to Zeus, the god of war, but instead, was connected to the hairy muscular body of Peter Grant's bodyguard. "Ooooh," she gasped aloud. His feet were on either side of her head. The hairy muscular legs rose from the small stage like giant monuments to the phallus at their apex. Janet shuddered, her body shrinking down tight into the mattress.

"You're awake," Peter Grant said smiling down at her. He leaned over, putting one knee on the pillow by her hips. "We were afraid you'd had too much. How do you feel?"

The girl could not answer. She tried to focus on his face. She turned her head and saw that the men and women in the room had gathered near the stage in a close semi-circle, their eyes bearing excitedly down on her naked flesh. They were still fondling each other and some of the leering faces were familiar. Martin was with one of the other women and his wife gently stroked Peter's hanging penis as he talked with her.

Janet looked for Greg. He sat three feet from her, his fingers between Deborah's legs, fondling the soft lips of her open vagina only slightly hidden from view by the soft silken hair surrounding it. He was not better than the rest, she thought dimly, hopelessly. Her mind screamed at him, but the response to her vocal chords was too slow and by the time it reached her lips, it was no longer necessary.

She could smell the sweetness of sex in the room. Her own husband had become a part of this ungodly group. "Remember," Peter said in a slow hypnotic monotone. "I told you that the movie was the first part of the initiation?" She nodded vaguely.

"Well this is the second part. Greg," he said, pointed at her husband. "Has already fulfilled his second half. Now it is your turn. All the men drew straws to see who would be your partner and Monroe won. I hope you are as good to him as you were to our friend Martin on the screen."

The girl could not believe the words. They seemed almost in a foreign tongue. These were respectable people. Yet they were all in this room with the same idea in mind... community sex. She looked about her and saw many of the large cocks again growing to erection from the sight of her young helpless body. The potion had taken good care of all of them.

Janet looked about her. The couples were swaying gently to the soft Indian sitar music that now flowed through the room. It was like a sacrifice. She was the most innocent of the group and they were going to change her, make her exactly like them, perverted, insane with sexual desires.

Her future flashed before her as she looked into the dark, far away eyes of her husband and her friends. There was no escape. She knew that no matter what she would try to do, they would have a hold on her. It was no use, no use at all.

The music sounded louder to her. A faint drum and sitar played in the melodic undertones of the new music of the twentieth century. She was on an altar, her innocence about to be slaughtered in sacrifice to the ritualized sex cult of the new age.

Tears filled her eyes. Once she had wanted children. After tonight, she, like the rest of the couples, would have no children. No woman would be able to face a child, knowing that she had done what she was about to do.

If the act had been totally forced upon her, such as rape, she might have survived, but she knew she would willingly consent. Tears involuntarily streamed down her face and she found herself actually wanting Monroe to take her with all his ugliness, all his brute strength, right in front of these people. She wanted him as she must have wanted Martin, as she would want so many other faceless men in the years to come.

She uttered a silent prayer for herself as the giant bent to kiss her. His yellow teeth shown from under his dark mustache. His breath was strangely sweet. He must have made a point not to offend her and seemed almost like a child to her, doing what he knew would feel good, doing what he had been summoned to do.

She made no sound as his heavy lips sensuously caressed her neck. The aphrodisiac accented the touch of his hairy lips upon her skin, her legs weakened as he leaned his body on top of her.

The huge swollen prick was lying against her thigh almost reaching to her waist. Its size outlined against her flesh frightened her. Perhaps, not knowing what he was doing, he would kill her with his monstrous weapon. It would be impossible for her to take such a massive cock into her. God, she moaned in her half conscious state, she would be split open and she prayed silently that pain might black her out, then she would not have to remember what happened when her reason returned and with the reason, the horrible, horrible guilt of the leering faces around her.