Chapter 8

At nine o'clock the next evening, the party was in full progress. Deafening blasts of over-amplified exotic music echoed through the lavish rooms of the palatial Blackwell mansion, underscored by a constant babble of conversation and revelry. The women wore chic, low-cut evening gowns, the men semi-formal dress, and yet the mood of the raucous party was anything but decorous. Everyone in sight was swayingly drunk and couples were openly embracing and boldly caressing one another's bodies, heedlessly, not caring who saw them, nor even much about whom they were with as long as the other person was even a little attractive.

Suddenly, the music was shut off and George strode through the noisy crowd in the main living room with a bright yellow megaphone in one hand. The huge man stepped up on a great round coffee table and raised the gaudy-colored device to his mouth.

"May I have your attention, please! Dolores and I have arranged some exciting entertainment for you... If you're interested, go to the main downstairs dining room-you all know where it is-in exactly twenty minutes... Everything will be ready for you, chairs and all... And tell the others who aren't here in this room about it... That's all for now... Have a ball!"

At least forty of the Blackwells' "special" friends from San Francisco were seated in almost total darkness on comfortable chairs and sofas that had been hastily set up in the large dining room after dinner. It was exactly nine-twenty and the darkened room was quiet except for occasional grunts and wet mumbling sounds that came from behind what appeared to be a makeshift curtain draped over a portion of the south end of the dining area.

"AAAAAeeeeee, aaaaagggggghhhhh!" come a scream of murderous pain as the curtain was drawn open and an intensely bright spotlight flashed on a group of figures entangled on a huge thick mattress covered in shiny black. Gasps and murmurs of approval rippled through the audience as they leaned forward to focus their eyes on the lewd spectacle before them. They saw Nadalee arched over a low leather-roll stool, tied hand and foot, her rounded white buttocks presented up in sacrifice to the bald moron, Braun, who knelt behind her. He was grinning sadistically down at his inhumanly long thick cock sunk halfway into the beautiful young redhead's virginal wide-stretched asshole. In front of her, her lithe brown-haired husband knelt on his knees, both of his hands grasping her head as he fucked his hard throbbing cock in and out of his beautiful eighteen year-old wife's warm wet mouth.

"Uuuuuhhhhh," Braun grunted as he rammed forward hard until his loins collided with a loud smack against the soft white upraised cheeks of the kneeling girl's smooth creamy buttocks. He began to saw viciously in and out of the tortured back-passage, groaning over and over as the tight elastic flesh of her rectum clamped hungrily on the entire length of the massive hardness.

"Mmmuuummmmpphhh," Nadalee mumbled around the fleshy male prick filling and emptying her face, loving it as it fucked deep into her throat, the balls swinging below it slapping hard on the soft tender skin of her throat. Braun began to increase his tempo, fucking faster and faster into her tender behind, deeper and deeper until his incredible cock seemed to be driving all the way up to her throat where Newton's rigidity was sliding in and out like a hot piston.

"God, she's loving it," George heard a pretty, black-haired woman murmur in front of him, smiling as he realized that there was a slight quality of envy in her tone. Shit, he swore under his breath, the Parker couple had turned out to be a damned fine investment and he intended to see that they got a nice reward for their cooperation... even though Newton seemed to have changed so much overnight that maybe he was no longer interested in the farm. And Nadalee, Christ, the little bitch had turned into a full- fledged woman in three short days.