Chapter 10

The weirdest thing we encountered in Central Park that summer was on a really hot day; so hot, in fact, that we almost aborted our patrol and headed home to escape to the air conditioning. However, we did want to make one more pass through the wooded area where we had found the majority of our rapes and muggings.

We came to one of those places where there was a ring of tall and thick bushes that were often used by rapists because of the clear area enclosed by the bushes. As we approached, we heard music coming from the interior of the ring—it was a kind of thumping rhythmic hard beat that I immediately associated with something that a stripper would dance to. Unfortunately, it was also good music to fuck to, so we expected to find a rape party in progress.

We burst into the ring with our weapons ready for battle, but we were stunned by what we actually found. Six naked women were doing vigorous calisthenics; at the moment, they were doing a form of jumping-jacks. I was astonished to see so many tits flying in so many directions!

The exercise was led by an equally naked man with a large erection which was also bouncing around as he jumped in time with the music. Tom winced every time the man's cock went flying down as his feet touched the ground. The man noticed us and pointed to one of the naked women without ever breaking from the exercise.

The woman he had selected walked over to us; she was obviously the designated spokesperson for the group. She was dripping sweat and had paused on the way to us to pick up a small towel. When she reached us, she said, "Good day. I suppose that you want to know what is going on. Well the answer is very simple: our air conditioner broke down, and we came to the Park in hopes of cooling off.

"This is the normal time for our Master to exercise his harem, so that is what we are doing. Master is very set in his ways, and every day of our lives is governed by a fixed routine. We have set times for exercise, for fucking, for eating, and for sleeping.

"Master fucks three of us in the morning when we wake up and three of us in the evening just before we go to sleep."

Tom could not contain himself. "You mean that he fucks all six of you women to orgasm every day!?! How does he manage that?"

"I really don't know, but Master does have a lot of stamina. He has not missed a day in fucking all six of us since the first day I joined his harem. We concubines always reach multiple orgasms, and Master orgasms with each one of us when he fucks us. As I say, his stamina is spectacular!

"Please excuse me, now. I need to get back to the exercise. If I miss too much, Master will punish me by not allowing me to orgasm tonight while he fucks me. I would be devastated if that happened!"

I said, "Okay. Thank you for the explanation. It is obvious that you are doing this because you want to, so we will not interfere. Have a good day." With that, we left them to their exercise which had continued without a break. Tom and I walked out of the clearing with a grin and shaking our heads. It was amazing what some people would do. I could hardly wait to tell this tale when we got home.

Well, that was enough for that day. We started jogging toward the nearest subway station. In deference to the other people using the train, we sat in the last car to keep down the number of people we offended with our excessive sweat. It was too bad that there was no place for us to take a shower before we got on the train.

A few days later when we passed that same bunch of bushes, we broke up an especially gruesome rape. We never did get a complete count of the total number of rapists, but we guessed that 20-25 boys were holding a rape party with four girls of early high school age. Most of the boys were naked from the waist down, and the girls were totally naked. I did get to observe that, at least in this age group, the erect cocks of all of the boys were about the same size, no matter what was their basic skin color. Well, I guess that shot down the story about larger cocks going with dark skin.

In passing, I will also note that two of the girls had white skin and two of the girls had black skin, but that did not seem to influence the choice of which girl was fucked. I did see one fuck finished and another started as we joined the party. In that case, the girl was Black and the first rapist was Black, but the second rapist was White. Was that a facet of "equal opportunity?"

We did not announce ourselves, but just waded in to the attack. We were so greatly outnumbered that we did not fool around. Whenever possible, a blow with the bone cracker was aimed at a knee or hip joint. That was intended to immobilize the target and to keep him from escaping. We had laid out 11 boys before we were noticed.

A few of the boys tried to counterattack, but there was no organization, so they were not successful. A few ran away: they were the ones who were still wearing their pants. The rest of them just stood around as if they were so shocked at our appearance that they were not able to defend themselves. When we finished hitting all of the boys that we could reach, I counted 19 who were not going anywhere.

I was so outraged at the injustice of so many boys attacking these few girls that I ran wild with my knife. By the time that I had finished, I had cut off the head of 19 cocks and jabbed each cock with the stinger needle. That was enough to make sure that the boys were not going anywhere.

In the meantime, Tom had looked after the girls and made sure that none of them were seriously injured physically beyond what resulted from the rapes. It dawned on me that there was something that we could do for the girls' emotional wellbeing: I had each one pick up a large rock and continue to crush joints. All of the girls were taking the Pill, so they were safe from pregnancy, but we did not know about STDs (Sexually Transmitted Diseases). Well, we would let the ER worry about that.

The girls' clothes had been ruined when they were stripped by the boys, but there were enough boys' clothes for them to cover their nudity. I gave the girls about 15 minutes to work on breaking bones before I called 911. I left a Hornets business card with each girl and scattered a few others about for the cops to find. Dad had okayed it, so I gave the girls the cellphone number to call if they were harassed by this gang or any other, but I cautioned them not to give the number to the cops or anybody else. We were completely safe until the first time the number was called, and I had a plan for dealing with that when the time came.

Tom and I were well away before the cops got to the scene of the rape party, but the girls had hung around for their own trip to the ER. The girls had been warned not to give explicit descriptions of us, just to say that we were one man and one woman who wore masks. By now, the cops would know who the Hornets were, so there was no chicanery going on here.

We had paused in our chase of the Irish Mafia for three weeks after the attack on Sean Murphy. Our next target was John Callahan. He was the one who had actually tried to cut off my clit. He had been my original choice for my first target, but I was concerned that Sean Murphy was too dangerous to be allowed to run loose in NYC; therefore, I had switched targets from Callahan to Murphy.

John Callahan was now at the top of my list, and I was anxious to call him to justice, at least my idea of justice. Callahan lived with his wife and two daughters in an apartment in Brooklyn. At first glance, Callahan looked like a model citizen, but he was unemployed and had been for some time. However, his wife had a job that paid well enough to support them, though not in what I would call comfort.

Anyway, Callahan's wife worked at a secretarial job in a manufacturing company from 8-5, and the two girls went to school from 7-2, so we had mornings to work on Callahan. We could show up about 8:30 and have until 1:30 undisturbed. Callahan often slept through the day and went to bars with a few friends at night. He had given up on job hunting and let his wife feed her family. In other words, he had become a lazy slob!

Tom and I showed up at the Callahan apartment just after 7:30. We watched until Mrs. Callahan left for work and saw no sign of her husband. From that, we assumed that he was sleeping late. Just as we were about to enter the building, a young woman showed up and opened the door to let herself in. We scooted up to take advantage of the unlocked door and walked in with her. We dawdled around while she took the elevator to an upper floor.

To our surprise, she exited the elevator on the fifth floor—that was the floor holding the Callahan's apartment. Well, we did not think much of it because there were three other apartments on that floor. We waited for 10 minutes to give the woman time to enter whatever apartment she was headed for before we took the elevator up to the fifth floor.

I was not worried about us gaining entrance to the Callahan's apartment because I had been taking lessons in picking locks from my father. That was another skill he had learned when he worked in North Korea. I was not perfect at the job, yet, but he pronounced me entirely adequate to pick the lock on any conventional NYC apartment door.

We finally showed up at the Callahan's apartment about 15 minutes behind the woman we had entered the building with. Tom stood guard for me while I picked the lock. This was my first lock picking assignment on an actual case, so I was nervous, clumsy, and slow. It must have taken me seven or eight minutes to get the door unlocked, but I finally made it. Fortunately, I was not interrupted while I was working, or I don't know how long it would have taken.

I eased the door open, and we slipped inside. To our surprise, we could hear laughter coming from one of the bedrooms. The door had been left open, so we had no trouble identifying the laughter as being both male and female. We looked at each other in surprise: did this mean that Mrs. Callahan had not left for work?

We slipped up to the open door and used a simple periscope to look into the room. There on the bed were two naked people: one was John Callahan, and the other was the woman we had entered the building with. The woman was on her back with her ass on a pillow and her legs on John's shoulders. He was kneeling between her legs and just about to push his cock into her pussy.

Uh-oh, this called for a slight change in plans. We slipped on ski masks that covered all but our eyes: there was no way that any other part of our faces could be seen. Tom pulled out his camera and snapped several pictures of the fuck going on just a few feet away from us. He was careful to frame a few shots of both faces and the penetrated pussy all together, so that it would be hard to explain away what was going on. Oh, yes, a skilled Photoshop craftsman could have faked the pictures, but we did not think that argument was going to come up when we showed the pictures to Mrs. Callahan.

We readied our stingers and rushed at the two people on the bed. I stabbed Callahan in the butt and gave him the maximum dose. Tom stabbed the unknown woman in the right thigh, also with the maximum dose. There was a very short delay while the capsaicin took effect, but both people were incapacitated by the extreme pain that they felt. John flopped away from the woman and fell at her side where he writhed in pain. Her reaction was just as definite, but she was already on her back, so she had nowhere to fall.