Chapter 5
THE STALK OF A TWENTIETH CENTURY RAPIST VAMPIRE
The scream sounded like a shot in the night. A metal trash can crashed down on a wet cobblestone street, clanking into the gutter. A single street lamp glowed through a thick muggy fog to cast an eerie light upon two figures in a death struggle. Penelope Black, twenty-two, felt the breath go out of her as she was being strangled by strong hands. She had not seen the attacker come up behind her, before he grabbed her! Her dress was ripped from her body-an iron-clasp grip held her down-then the flash of blue steel pressed hard against her neck. She felt her panties being torn off her body. Then came the hideous length of his vicious penis. She struggled to prevent the intrusion, but then the knife sliced painfully into her flesh, blood spurted over the front of naked titties. She panicked and froze her movements, only aware of the flush sensation that flashed through her body-there was a man inside of her-fucking her savagely! The penis, like a shaft of lightning, his penis fucked in and out, ripping her core! He was worse than a madman, fucking her harder and harder-her head banged against the cobblestones again and again. He grunted and climaxed. He snatched out his penis and pointed it at her mouth just as the semen splashed from his tube-the sticky semen exploding all over her pretty face.
Then the glimmer of blue steel was seen again as the attacker swung the knife high over his head. The screams in the night faded and there was silence again, and the low moan of foghorns.
The London Chronicle carried the story in bold print: JACK THE RIPPER AT LARGE AGAIN!
Late autumn of 1971, London, England was besieged by a wave of rape-murder cases. The victims were all pretty prostitutes. The patterns were similar in each murder: the bodies were found nude, bound with ropes. Both mammaries of each victim had been carefully cut off. Two tiny punctures on the right side of the neck were found. The murders had now numbered twelve. After four months of the hideous murders, Scotland Yard admitted they were baffled.
The murders struck fear into the hearts of women throughout London. The streets were not safe to walk at night and a curfew went into effect. All of London held its breath. Good citizens locked their doors and a cloak of death hung over the city.
Abruptly, as the baffling murders had begun-they stopped. Scotland Yard was again baffled. A news story from America caught the attention of the Yard A psychopathic rape-murderer was on the loose! Four young prostitutes had been victimized.
Scotland Yard was particularly interested because the sex crime patterns were similar to theirs. The bodies found nude, bound with ropes, and the breasts of each victim severed.
Scotland Yard contacted the police officials in Washington, D.C. and requested more information. Homicide Inspector Harry Engles reported back that they had no clues. The Yard asked permission to send an agent to help cover the investigation, since there was a mutual interest.
The agent from Scotland Yard arrived in Washington, D.C. Sergeant Hennison from the homicide detail was in for a big surprise when the agent passed through customs. The London investigator was a woman.
"Hello. I'm Regina Ashley, Scotland Yard."
"Howdy, ma'am. We weren't expecting a lady-I mean-welcome to the United States. Please come right this way."
Regina Ashley was led to an automobile outside the air terminal.
"Inspector Ingles couldn't come to meet you. This case has him tied up. Everybody is screaming for his blood. You know how a city panics when something like this happens. Women are afraid to walk the streets."
Inside the automobile, Regina Ashley sat back and lit a cigarette. She took a deep breath and looked around. At last she had reached America. A lifelong dream had come true. A twist of fate had got her here. Bloody shame it had to be under such circumstances.
"Have you any clues yet?" she asked the sergeant.
"No. It's the freakish thing we've seen here in the Capitol. No explanation. No motive. It's just like one of those old ghost stories with the vampire and all-our victims' throats were punctured and the blood drained from their bodies. I don't suppose you believe in such things, Miss Ashley?"
"I assure you, Sergeant, there are no such things as ghosts, or vampires. Our killer is flesh and blood. Our job is to track him down before he kills more innocent victims. If the victims are innocent. . . "
Regina Ashley met Inspector Ingles at his office. There was a handsome news reporter there with the inspector. Inspector Ingles introduced him as his son, Clark Ingles.
Very briefly, Regina Ashley was given an account of how the rape-murders were committed. The first victim was found one month ago. Since that time there had been six others. Two murders weekly on the average. That alone was enough to set Washington into panic and protest. There were still no clues. The attacker came out of the night, swooped down on his victims, bound and raped them. Afterwards the breasts were cut off. The most puzzling element was the puncture marks left on the victims throats.
"Is there one particular area of the city he kills in?" Regina asked.
"No. Two of the prostitutes were found in their penthouse apartments. We found a few in parks. It looks like it could happen anywhere in the city."
Clark Ingles interrupted. "Miss Ashley, what's a pretty girl like you doing tracking down a psychopathic killer?"
"I'm a criminologist. I think experience is the best teacher. And Scotland Yard thinks very highly of my ability. London also happened to think that there was a link between our criminal and yours. We want this killer just as badly as you do."
"Oh, I see. You're one of those women libbers-on the criminal side," Clark said with a smile.
The smile was not well received. "Not at all, Mr. Ingles. Do you object working with a female?"
"Certainly not."
Inspector Ingles spoke, "You must forgive my son, Miss Ashley. Clark think's he's as smart as his old dad. He's been a super-snoop since he was old enough to read comic books. He's a good reporter, though-likes to stay on top of everything."
"Inspector, I do appreciate your letting me work with your department on this case. And it seems to me, that since there are no clues-we'll have to figure out where the criminal will strike next." Regina spoke after a great deal of thought.
"Sounds easy enough," quipped Clark.
The door opened and an officer spoke to Inspector Ingles. "Inspector, there's been another one! A young girl was found dead at the Wellington Arms."
The Inspector grabbed up his coat and hat. "Miss Ashley, it looks as if you got here just in time. Our killer has struck again."
They arrived at the Wellington Arms where the seventh victim had been found. The body had been found in one of the penthouse apartments. The inspector's men were already there along with laboratory technicians. The body of the dead girl was stretched nude across a king-size water bed, the nipples missing, and two small punctures at the throat.
"How horrible!" exclaimed Regina Ashley.
"It's not a pretty sight. Perhaps you should wait in the outer room," said Inspector Ingles.
"No, go on with the investigation. I'm fine."
Detective Sergeant Harriman began reading information from a note pad. "The girl's name is Elsa Bright. She was twenty-five and a professional call girl. The desk clerk said that he never saw men coming and going. He also said Miss Bright had very few friends. He noticed nothing suspicious preceding the time of the murder. It's too soon to tell now, but it looks like the girl has been dead for over twelve hours. . . "
"All right, thank you, Sergeant Harriman. Finish up with your work. Make sure you guys don't miss anything. Check everything. I can hear the mayor now shouting at me clamoring for my badge."
"It's not fair. It's not your fault!"
"Yeah, but your city hicks don't see it that way. Okay I want to talk with that desk clerk. It's evident that he didn't see all of Miss Bright's friends because our killer got past him tonight."
"You're assuming that the killer was a male."
"Yes, Miss Ashley. Call it instinct. I can't see a female perpetrating these violent crimes. Especially the part about the nipples being sliced away."
Clark added, "This chick must have known her killer because she let him into the apartment."
"We don't know that," replied Captain Ingles.
"There's no sign of a struggle. The furniture is still in place-she had to let him in. There's no way up the side of the building-it's fifteen stories. It's a straight drop off the terrace."
Regina Ashley stroked her chin, moving about the bedroom, stepping around the laboratory technicians. "I'd like to see the list of her clients. Call girls usually keep a date book about. . . "
"We'll do a thorough investigation into her private life. You can be sure of that." Inspector Ingles thought about how smart the British were; he didn't want to be outfoxed by a female snoop.
Then there was a clamor of protest coming from outside in the corridor from news reporters.
"What will you tell the press? "
"No statement. Sorry. Clark, be a good son and take Miss Ashley to get her settled. I have to get to work here. If anything turns up I'll call you. We've arranged for her to stay at the Clinton Manor."
Regina Ashley moved about the apartment deep in thought. "Yes, quite ready now. And, captain, do let me know if you turn up that date book of Miss Bright's."
Clark Ingles drove Regina Ashley directly to the Clinton Manor where the department had reserved a suite for her stay. Clark brought up her baggage and helped her settle.
"There's something about this case that bothers me," she said.
As Regina acquainted herself with the suite, Clark Ingles took the liberty to notice her fine figure. Regina Ashley was typical English stock, reserved, calm, and quite collected. Disregarding the cold surface, she was a pretty woman. A short crop of blond hair and a slender, curvaceous figure, added to her appeal.
"What's that?" he asked.
"I can't put my finger on it yet. But I have these psychic vibrations . . . it'll come to me.. . "
"Well-I'd better be going. I do hope you enjoy your stay in the United States. Have a good night's rest and I'll pick you up for lunch. I'll be done with my work at the newspaper about eleven-thirty and I'll call for you then."
He said good-night and left Regina Ashley alone.
Clark arrived very early the next morning. Regina was preparing for her bath when she admitted him. She dashed back into the bathroom, leaving the door open so they could talk.
"Sorry I'm such a wreck. I slept late this morning with the plane trip and all. Do make yourself comfortable and fill me in."
Clark poured himself a glass of orange juice and mixed in a shot of Vodka. He sat on the couch which faced the bedroom door. The door was open and he could see the reflection of the bath through the mirror on the vanity. He smiled and sat down. He wondered if she had purposely left him such an enchanting view.
"You were right about there being a date book. . . "
"Oh, then they found it-"
He saw a movement in the bath; Regina was stepping into the bath tub. The short blond hair contrasted well with her olive skin and her breasts which were big, wondrous things, firm and luscious. The circles around her nipples were as round as half dollars. Her buttocks, hips, thighs and center were beautiful to behold.
"Yes. Quite an explosive little book. Elsa seemed to have gotten around to high circles. Some of her male clients were the top brass in Washington . . . senators, congressmen, aide to the president. Men you would never suspect. She knew them all."
He couldn't give his full attention to what he was saying. The vision of Regina Ashley's naked body was too disturbing. He raised up to see more of her body. But now he only had the top view of her body.
"We had a nasty bit of scandal not too long ago. If the names in that book of Elsa's were released, it'd probably blow the lid off here in the Capitol."
He saw her step delicately out of the tub and slip into a pair of too-tight panties that choked her upper thighs until they appeared swollen and enlarged. Strands of pubic hair peeked from beneath them at her crotch. Clark sighed longingly and settled back down in his seat.
Regina came into the front room with a terry-cloth robe on. It was a three-quarter length and revealed her sumptuous thighs. Under the robe she looked to be the athletic type; she kept herself in shape pretty well. She spoke, as she dried her hair with a towel. "Clark, did Elsa have a close friend? Usually a call girl has at least one girl friend she takes into her confidence-"
"Yeah. A chick named Janet Boyle."
"Is there an address for this Janet Boyle?"
"I have it written down. You plan to do a little investigating on your own?"
"That's why Scotland Yard sent me here, luv. Do tell me more."
"There's nothing else, except we did establish the time of death."
Clark could barely keep his mind on what he was saying. Regina was a real charmer. As she stood there in front of him, completely relaxed, and uninhibited, flicking her head from side to side-now combing her hair. When she paced the floor she looked so naturally feminine; her hips swayed in a pulsating rhythm while her buttocks quivered in a melody of their own. Each cheek rose and fell, soft and lushly, like butterballs.
The robe was held fast by a belt, but the top was loose enough to see the valley of her exquisite breasts. The robe wasn't together around the bottom. When she made a sharp movement he could see the round thighs, and the cut of her panties. She had a deep tan and the cottontail emphasized the softness. There were traces of white where her bra had concealed her nipples. The whiteness seemed to make them look larger, like golden, milky pineapples. The nipples were bright pink like two bull's eyes! Everything seemed to quake in the softness and her tits shook and swayed so much that she suddenly became embarrassed and brought her arms up to cover the display. This was something he had never suspected of Regina Ashley.
They stared at each other, for the first time realizing they found each other very attractive. Regina had never had much time for men. Clark Ingles was the very first man she had taken a good look at in some time. He wasn't bad at all.
Clark cleared his throat and put out his cigarette. He hoped he had not shown too much admiration in his face. But Regina Ashley was ready for action-he could see it all over her body-the way her legs were fully blown and had that full look that all maturing females acquire when their bodies become overripe. Her thighs swept together warmly, and it was as if he could hear her pussy calling to his penis to come inside her.
He even liked the way she looked with her hair down, and the way she trod on bare toes; carefully, delicately, as though the hot flames inside her cunt were making it difficult to walk. She was toeing on egg shells, afraid that if she stepped too hard, the rich, funky juices would all come spilling out of her hole. She needed a cock for that. He would need more time to see what she was all about. What makes a woman of Ashley's caliber choose a life of crime fighting?
Regina, aware of the prolonged silence, said, "I noticed something. . . . "
"What's that?"
"There was a full moon last night."
"Is that supposed to mean something?"
"I should think so. If we're supposed to believe we're dealing with a vampire. . . "
"Go on, I'm listening."
"Well, luv, I checked. I don't believe in this rubbish about the puncture marks on the girls' throats. However, I did note that several of the killings did occur when there was a full moon."
An eerie sensation ran down his spine. "Which proves?"
"Which proves our killer strikes on full moons. Which proves he is human. If he is human, then he forms behavior patterns, in which case he has left us a clue that's invisible. As to when he will murder again."
"How? When?"
"The next full moon."
That evening, Regina begged off from having dinner with Clark and his father, Inspector Ingles. She had a plan to put into effect. She had gotten Janet Boyle's phone number. She was not sure if the call girls worked through an answering service, but she took the chance. It had been arranged, Janet Boyle had taken the bait. It would cost Regina Ashley one hundred dollars, but Janet Boyle said she would be there at her suite at eight o'clock.
Janet Boyle arrived on time.
"Are you Miss Ashley Regina Ashley?" Janet nearly did not get the question out, completely startled by the lovely face in the doorway.
"Yes. And you are Miss Janet Boyle."
"May I come in?"
Janet gave Ashley a quick once over. Her body wasn't too sexy, but enough to make the job easy. The thought of her being so virginal gave her sexuality a new fire. This woman had the freshly scrubbed glow, and at one time she might have been chubby. However, she was all grown up now, she had ripened into a voluptuous bitch. The miniskirt Ashley wore was so short it was only an inch below her buttocks!
Regina mixed drinks and sat them on the coffee table before the couch. "You're very prompt, Miss Boyle. I must admit I was doubtful of going through with this. But I am happy that you are here now." Regina took her own drink to her lips, her eyes lowered sexily, her face growing more exotic.
Janet could see her mind registering like a computer, deciding how badly she needed this.
Regina decided to play the part. "Stand up for me let's see what I paid for."
Janet Boyle was surprised and became mildly irritated with her professional attitude. She thought about it, then stood up absent-mindedly, brushing her hands over her thighs.
"All right, that's good," Regina said. "You're not bad looking. What's a nice girl like you doing in a business like this? Are you worth all this money?"
"You can make your own conclusions later."
Regina's eyes flashed; she had needed to hear that. The ice was broken and she paced before Janet. She wanted her to pay her more compliments, to be equally as pleased with the prize she was servicing.
"Tell me something," Regina said. "Are there many young ladies doing this sort of thing here in the city? I wonder what other females do when they need something. I had no choice because of my family's name, and frankly, I never thought I would see the day when I would pay a man to ball me. . . "
"Is that the real reason?"
"Oh, I thought it was the answer to some of my hang-ups. Maybe I need to talk with someone. I heard also that prostitutes are similar to psychologists-only there is a bed instead of a couch!"
"Anything you say. It's your time and money. I have all night," she smiled. "As to your question, more and more women are going in for paying for certain services."
"Will you answer other questions, if I decide to ask them later? I have a super-dooper ego and a curious nature. I'm probably like no other woman you'll ever meet. I was engaged to be married, but I ran out on the guy in Paris."
"Why did you come to Washington?"
"I heard this city is for swingers-and a lot of single girls work for the government. I thought it would be a swell place to find myself."
Janet Boyle watched Regina kick off her shoes and fluff out her hair. She then picked up a cigarette box and came and sat down beside her. Janet admired her legs, warm and inviting, and she wished she could see further between them-to see how large her thighs were. To see if they were squeezed tight together, bathing her precious cunt. Janet Boyle had heard many stories about English ladies like Regina Ashley.
English women, supposedly, enjoyed their sex raw-the funkier the better, no restrictions. Regina Ashley did look good all over. She was so ultra-feminine and her gestures said she was a delicate thing inside and out. She wondered what her cunt would taste like; Janet enjoyed women who were easy to fire up.
Regina's long blond hair fell over her eyes. Her fingers tapped the rim of the cocktail glass.
"Are you nervous?" asked Janet.
"Yes."
"You don't want to go through with it."
"It's not that, only . . . "
"Go on, you can talk to me. I'm here to please."
"No-not that-you don't look the type."
"You do want to fuck . "
"I think so."
"Honey, I could love you like nobody else ever will," Janet said as she lifted her skirt and opened her legs. She rubbed her center, viciously, making sure Regina saw it.
Regina, out of her role, fluttered like a bird. "Ah, have you ever done something and didn't know why?"
"Come here, beautiful."
Regina was becoming skeptical; she could start her interrogation now and skip the sex part. She had gotten Janet Boyle here so she could question her. But somehow, knowing she was alone, and it would be her own secret-why not? Indeed, she was horny.
Janet Boyle knew she had to start the action before Regina went off into a memory bank. At first, she only looked at her without moving. Nor did she show any signs that she intended to. Then their eyes locked, which was enough for Regina to stand up.
Janet put her drink down and her hand around Regina's waist. Regina was soft there. Their legs and feet entangled and she lost her footing and they made the electric contact!
"You sure are a fine little ole thing, baby," she whispered, feeling herself get into the mood. Time was money in her profession. She moved her hands along Ashley's body. Ashley stood perfectly still and trembled.
Regina stood with her knees drawn tightly together, as though she intended protecting her pussy from the vicious cunt-sucking Janet Boyle might give her.
Janet Boyle drew Regina closer. She pushed up her hemline, looking straight into her dark, blonde triangle. The sight of so much pussy stunned her! Moist strands that trailed all the way over her panties to her navel. Beautifully entangled, indicating that her passion was just as fiery! It made a frame for the open lips of her cunt, a long succulent slit with a clit that hung out like a ding-dong! Janet knew the taut material of the panties was giving Regina holy hell! It had to be torturous having so much friction burning the head of her clitoris; what misery it must be for her to wear panties all day. Janet was curious about this English bitch. Was her virginal pussy as good as it looked? Would it taste as good? Would she give her all when she went down on her?
Janet Boyle encircled one thigh and hugged the round, firm softness. Then she kissed Regina's tawny skin, moving her mouth from one thigh to the other-kissing, teasing her quaking flesh. From time to time her nose brushed against Regina's crotch and her clitoris-each time Janet did, Regina moaned and cried out in a new series of passionate whimpers.
That was much better. The English bitch was losing her reserve.
"This is going to be a pleasure, honey," teased Janet Boyle. "You taste good all over! Especially between your legs. I bet your pussy is good and hot! Open your legs a little wider for me. Let me look into your cunt."
Janet Boyle's words made Regina's whole body turn to jelly. She reached behind Regina and put her hands over her pert ass. It wasn't a bad little nest, for a young broad. A little fiat, but enough roundness and one flaxen cheek seemed to quiver and explode in her fingers. The panties were skin-tight and they packed in Regina's goodness. The flesh of the buttocks spilled out and over, being chocked and caught at the thighs. The center of her crotch was as wet as a river-spouting leaky juices like a fountain!
"That feels terrific. I like to have my ass squeezed . . . and squeezed. You have good hands, Janet," she whispered, and felt Janet's hand go inside her drawers to mold the spongy flesh there.
Slowly, the panties were pulled off. Janet kissed down from the navel.
A soul-stirring sting of sensation drew out of Regina Ashley's animal traits. The only thing that mattered now was satisfying her throbbing pussy. She had always enjoyed it when a man had eaten her pussy. It alarmed and startled her that a man should want to eat her before sticking his penis in. When she was a lot younger, several of her dates tried to suck her pussy because she refused to give them any. Once she had let Jerry Dunigan lick around her pussy for a little while, and in fact, when anyone did suck her cunt, she usually reached two or three climaxes before they finished. That is, when she found the time to have sex with anybody.
Most of the time it was hard for Regina to reach a climax because her vagina remained in a constant state of heat . . . her drawers stayed wet all day. The slimy insides, the vaginal fluid flowed fire and gnawed at her with a horny sensation. When she walked, her meaty thighs were hot pillars coming together to pull her panties taut, applying tantalizing friction over her clit. Sometimes she had to stop and stand still until the eruption of her volcano cooled!
As soon as Janet Boyle kissed her pussy-Regina felt faint. The touch of Janet's tongue with its course fibers, felt like sandpaper, pricking her clitoris. Then she sucked the lips apart and the whole pussy lay open. Regina felt Janet take her clitoris between her teeth and nibble it. It was more than she could bear.
"Oh, don't bite, Janet. Be tender," she begged.
Janet Boyle, the professional, sucked all the harder.
"Don't tell me how to do my thing; nobody tells me how to do my thing!"
However, Janet decided to have mercy. She did not want Regina to blow her stack-not just yet. Pretending that her tongue was a penis, she stuck it inside Regina's vagina-curious to see how she would fuck if she were a man. The tunnel of the cunt was not very deep, a shallow hole belonging to a baby! Not many penises had been there because the muscles of her inner walls were still strong. She had never been fucked real hard. And that was exactly what Janet would like to do. Janet was going to make sure Regina got a good fucking tonight!
She turned Regina around. Now the pert buttocks were facing her mouth. Janet Boyle, the professional, dug her fingernails into the cheeks. Then she cupped one round ball and lapped her tongue up and down. She licked over the cheek, then switched to the other one determined to set fire to this English bitch's asshole.
Regina could not stand still any longer. The tongue gorging in and out her rectum was too much. She was embarrassed, and her face, as well as her ass, turned bright red.
Janet Boyle pushed her forward a bit-so she could get down in between the valley of buttocks.
Regina was hot enough now. Janet Boyle pushed Regina away and stood up. She smiled sinisterly, and stripped in a matter of seconds. So quick that Regina was somewhat pissed because she did not get the chance to see all of the sexy body.
Regina took Janet into the bedroom and turned back the covers. Janet climbed on top and began fucking her hips down into Regina's pussy box. Their thighs interlocked, and they were pussy to pussy! Janet reached down and stretched both pussies apart-to make sure that the clits were touching. It was more exciting when she did this for Regina. To actually have another clitoris meeting your own, with equal electricity.
Janet showed no mercy now. She took advantage of Regina's horniness and lack of experience to burn her to a crisp! The bed rocked and banged against the wall.
Then it was all over for Regina. Then Regina fucked Janet, and much to the professional's surprise-Regina made her go off in a matter of minutes!
Janet Boyle lay stretched out on the bed, her breasts heaving, trying to get her breath back. Regina Ashley rose and put on her robe, mixed a drink and came back to sit on the side of the bed.
"Here, honey-take a swig. Then we have something to discuss. . . "
There was something in Regina's voice that told Janet Boyle she had been played for a chump. Regina's voice took on the cold authority of a cop. Janet Boyle knocked the drink from Regina's hand.
In a lightning move, Regina slapped her hard across the face and pushed her back on the pillow.
"Now listen, you dumb broad. I need some information. It's unofficial. I'm the law, but I'm off-duty-working on a special case."
"You fucker! You creep! I knew something was wrong 'with this setup. You British are all the same-cold-hearted bastards!"
"Shut up and listen to what I have to say. Elsa Bright was your best friend. You know that she was murdered-"
"Yeah, sure by some freak. It happens in our profession. She knew what she was getting into. . . "
"You're wrong. It's a freak all right, but one somewhat different than you'd ever know. The person who killed Elsa was a homicidal psychopath-and he'll kill again if you don't help us!"
"Help you, how?"
"We need to know more about her. What kinds of things she was into. What did she do the day before the killing-was she seeing anybody special?"
"Elsa was a funny girl to know. She wasn't seeing anybody special-she didn't dig on men. They were a means to her living, and nothing more. If you know what I mean. But Elsa wanted the moon and she gave life her best shot. It wasn't long before she had made contact with some of our nobler government officials. Her cover was keen, because of all the call girls, Elsa was the only one who's name was on all the guest lists in Washington. Two days before she was killed she said that she had been contacted by Big Shot he wanted her to meet some guy who was visiting here. This party was to be set up especially for that. That's all she told me."
"Whose party?" Regina waited anxiously, knowing that the clue could lie in what Janet Boyle had to say.
"It was at the home of Senator Langley. . . "
"And who was this important visitor?"
"Elsa didn't tell me that. That's all I can tell you about Elsa."
"That's quite enough, sweetheart. Now just forget this little visit. It never happened. Here is another two hundred dollars. I can't tell you how much of a help you've been, honey. Now get your ass up and get out of here. I have some work to do. . . "
When Janet Boyle had left, Regina picked up the phone and went to work.
Janet Boyle had said Elsa Bright had attended a party last Sunday which was the tenth of October. If the good Senator Langley had guests, undoubtedly they would have arrived two days prior to the party. The guests would have to be well vested before Langley exposed them to a party. Therefore, if they were from another country they would have, more than likely, stopped off in New York, and then flown to Washington. It was all hypothetical, but Regina checked it out. In her mind, she had already envisioned that the visitor would be
British--if her killer in London was to match the killer in Washington. She sensed that such a person, who would commit such brutal murders, would undoubtedly be a little squeamish about flying. It felt right. She followed her premonition and checked all the logs of ocean liners that docked in New York harbor on the eighth of October . . . looking specifically for British-sounding names. Lord James Edmington stuck out like a sore thumb. Lord Edmington had arrived by ocean liner Friday, October the eighth-accompanied by his nineteen-year-old daughter, Alicia.
Lord Edmington and his daughter took a plane from New York to Washington. It was too much of a coincident. Regina called Clark and asked for his assistance. He confirmed her suspicion, there was a Lord Edmington, and a daughter. They were house guests at the home of Senator Langley.
Regina called Clark and asked for information on Senator Langley. Senator Langley, Clark told her, had been a public servant all his life. He was close to the president and above suspicion. Regina did not agree. Then she told him about Lork James Edmington being the senator's house guest. Lord Edmington was then the man in question.
Scotland Yard answered Regina's query about Lord Edmington. At best, they could only come up with a sketchy history of the man. His family had always been nobles down through generations, and on the mother's side of the family tree, he was related to the Queen. As a young man, Lord Edmington had been known to squander investments. He was, as Scotland Yard explained, a bit of the black sheep of the family. Edmington had published papers on the supernatural, The World Without End, early in 1950. He had achieved no great notoriety on his work, but was said to hold séances from time to time, which only included close friends.
In Regina Ashley's mind it all began to tie in. It was just possible that Lord Edmington had some kind of mental disease, perhaps a brain tumor that made him commit such horrid murders. What was she doing? She was convicting the man without a trial; thus far, the man was guilty of nothing-except in the figment of her imagination.
They were in good luck. The coming Saturday night there was going to be a formal dinner party at the Sinclairs, who were very close friends to the Langleys. Regina and Clark were certain that Langley would bring along his house guests. It just so happened that the Sinclairs and Clark's father were very old friends.
Saturday night, Regina, Clark, and Captain Ingles attended the dinner party at the Sinclair estate. Regina was indeed impressed. She had read about the staunch, stuffy dinner parties given by the dignitaries of Washington. It was all true. There were about fifty guests, all of whom were world-known. It seemed unreal to Regina, seeing so many famous people in one room. It was a great deal like the affairs of court that went on back home in England.
"I hope you two will be satisfied when you see how ridiculous this is," Captain Ingles said, in a somewhat grumpy mood. He had wanted to throw Regina's theory right out the window.
"At least give her a chance, dad," said Clark. "Let's take a look at the guy. If he's innocent, he has nothing to worry about. Guilty, and you'll be in for a promotion. Let Regina have a go at this guy."
"I told you, captain, I work on hunches. I'm psychic. I just know I have the right man. . . "
"No motive."
"I know. I know. When I see him, I'll know."
Regina's moment came, when shortly before dinner they were introduced to Howard Sinclair and Senator Langley, along with Lord Edmington and his daughter, Alicia. They exchanged formalities with Regina, introducing herself as a news reporter from London. Thereby giving herself and Lord Edmington common ground for communication. She told him that she had heard of his good work in the field of psychic phenomena-and further, she would love to chat with him on the subject.
Lord Edmington, a tall man, well over six-feet-four-inches, portrayed a picture of total disinterest. He had sensed that this woman was making herself available to him. For what purpose, he was not sure.
The group was disengaged when dinner was announced.
Regina Ashley was sure she had her man. Throughout dinner, she could not take her eyes off the slender, plastic face of Lord Edmington. There was something very cold about the man; his eyes were beady, his cheeks sunken.
His brows were those of the devil himself. He moved slowly and no emotion was exhibited over which he had no control. His young daughter reminded Regina of a librarian. Although she hated to knock a fellow countryman, Alicia was ugly, extremely pasty and white. But her features were good. There was not one single feature she could point to that made her total look so displeasing. Poor, sickly-looking child, Regina thought.
"Cut it out, Miss Ashley-you're staring at the man. You're making me uncomfortable," Clark warned, sitting beside her at the dinner table. Then he turned and engaged in polite conversation with the guests.
Throughout the after-dinner conversation, Regina watched the clock. Slowly, the evening dragged on, a mixture of light chatter and political philosophies. At eleven-thirty, she still followed every move Lord Edmington made. Quarter to eleven, she noticed that he suddenly became drawn and weak. He seemed to be more pale than before. Her eyes switched to his daughter. Alicia was at his elbow, as if frightened. They were both edgy, nervous about something. Then Regina saw them rush for the front door where they said goodnight to the host. When Regina looked at the clock again, it struck midnight.
In a moment of great inspiration, she leaped to her feet, knocking serving trays from the hands of a waiter, and dashed outside. The night air stung her face. There was no one there. Lord Edmington had disappeared. Vanished into the night, she thought. They couldn't have had time to get into the car, start it, and drive away that quickly. No way. There was something peculiar going to happen. Regina Ashley knew then that she was on to something.
Affiter dropping his father off, Clark took Regina to an after-hour discotheque called Robbies. They danced and had a good time. For a moment it looked as though Regina was going to let her hair down!
The last dance of the evening was a slow one. They had both had a bit too much to drink. Clark held Regina close in his arms. For a moment it seemed as though they paused for the initial contact of their bodies. Clark was much taller than Regina, and she fitted closely between his thighs. It wasn't a position that she especially cared for because her bust was against his lower chest, pressed tightly, and his penis was warm on her stomach. Then Regina slightly pulled back as though a hot poker touched her, when she began to feel his manhood surge.
He was aware of her breasts squeezing into his chest and he was between two beautiful pillows. The valley between Regina's thighs was hot to his penis, which he could feel rising slowly, searching out for that sweet warmth of her femininity.
"You know, in a funny way-I'm glad I met you." He decided not to be smooth, as usual, when on the make, but to show his boyish charms.
"Ohhh . . . yes," she whispered, feeling" for the first time how his penis was. throbbing against her. "I'm happy to have had this chance to work with you also."
"Well-you know, you just don't think of detectives as being pretty Women. You're so pretty that you throw a guy. You know?"
"Yes, yes, thank you. I'm very flattered," she said, in her very calm British manner.
Regina was happier than he thought because she didn't back off from the penis he was pushing between her legs.
"I know this is going to sound clumped up, but I'm really taken by your charms, your wit. It's a pleasure having met a woman who has an inner quality, rather than just a sexy body," he told her.
"Oh?"
"I'm only sorry that I didn't meet you earlier -in life. . . "
"Mr. Ingles-I think you had better watch what you say. I think you're a wee bit tipsy. It is getting late."
They stopped at the table long enough to finish their drinks. Then they left the club. They were soon at the hotel and Clark led her through the garden and in through the side entrance. On the way up, Regina was placid and once or twice she looked at him in a regretful way; as though she was having a furious battle with her moral conscience.
He was trying desperately to decide if he should make the big push tonight. Regina was stoned and pretty well warmed up; it wouldn't be that difficult. All he had to do was take advantage of her mellow feeling. But then, if she wasn't really stoned, she would know right away that he was a phony, on the make for a quick lay. She was a very sensitive girl and it was a sensitive moment of decision for both of them.
As Regina walked ahead of him going down the hallway, he saw how trim and pretty her legs were. How the miniskirt rose and fell, hinting, exposing her upper proportions. She was a tall shapely chick-lusciously filled and needing a king-size cock in her pussy. There was so much that cried eager in the carriage of her sexy torso. He remembered how uninhibited she was in her apartment after showering.
When they reached the door to her suite, Regina handed him the key. He moved in front of her and unlocked the door. He held it open for her and he arrogantly stepped aside to admit her, pretending he was angry because she was saying good-night. Her eyes caught the action and she fluttered up like a lost bird.
"Oh, really, Clark. What can I say-but thank you . . . it's been an evening I'll always remember. I do wish that I wasn't so tired-but I'm beat.. . "
He didn't say anything.
"Oh, I say. I suppose I could offer you something to drink. You may come in if you like."
She looked drained as she ushered him inside and clicked on the lights.
"Hey, listen," he took her hand. Regina turned slowly, knowing that he wanted to kiss her; she held her face away and spoke without looking at him. "Please, don't Clark. It's been so beautiful until now. I appreciate what you're trying to say. But I just can't right now."
Clark held her in his arms and tried to kiss her. Regina seemed to come alive, suddenly. Their lips met, and she paused to see what there might be in his kiss-that pause was long enough for Clark to maneuver his hands down her back. He was not sure he should feel the ass of a lady of this caliber. Regina was such a lady. He could not resist. Before he realized it, his hands were cupping over her round buttocks and testing for softness.
Regina was embarrassed and passive at the same time. His caresses felt good, but she could not let herself behave like a common animal.
Regina felt good in his arms; they went well together. It was easy to hold her and caress over her body. She was particularly hot in the center of her thighs; he attacked her there by rubbing his thigh in and out. Soon she was forced to ride his leg with her cunt flat out against it.
Regina flung her arms around his neck and returned the kiss. They toppled backward until they reached the couch. Clark reached to unfasten her dress. Regina very calmly stopped him. She stepped away from the couch and began to undress.
Her eyes never left his all the while she stripped away her clothes. Finally, she stood there naked before him. "We English believe in doing tilings correctly the first time. If you don't have time to do it right the first time-when will you ever find time to do it a second time?"
Clark held his breath not believing his good fortune. So, Regina Ashley was human after all. She was a woman with a cunt who needed a cock. He reached for her and put his hands around her waist. He pulled her into his face and kissed her stomach. He licked over the navel, down and around, and just over the top of her bushy blond fuzz. The taste of her skin was delicious.
He pushed her back a little-to have room to lick between her thighs. He spread them apart and noticed how round and fleshy the inner thighs were. He adored that portion of a woman's body. He mouthed the inner lobes of her thighs, then took a mouthful.
"Hmmm, you're beautiful, Ashley-"
"Call me Regina-we know each other well enough now." She tried to move, but Clark's hot breath was burning her cunt unmercifully. She could feel the warmth seeping through her pubic hairs, bothering her hole. tie ran his hand up and down the back of her knees. She let him move his hands up further along her legs. He touched her buttocks and tickled his finger in between the cheeks. There was something about the way he felt her up that both repulsed and thrilled her at the same time. He seemed to know that women enjoyed being made to feel risqué.
While he dug in her ass, his face was pushing up into her pussy hole. It was an awkward struggle, so Regina resigned herself and helped him. She wiggled her ass a bit and fucked into his mouth. Gradually, she drew down to the couch. Clark stood up and tore off his trousers. His penis shot out like a sword! He positioned himself on the couch between her legs. He guided his stiff penis into her pussy hole. Regina took a deep breath and gritted her teeth. He was much too large for her. He shoved an inch of penis into her slit. He shoved again and thought he was going to shoot off. Regina Ashley's pussy was like being inside a hot furnace -she had closed the door tight around his crown-he was trapped-with the head of his cock sticking into a juicy hell hole! She wiggled and flames flickered around the ridge of his crown. She moaned and groaned as if it was the best dick she had ever had.
Slowly, he made progress he was three inches into her pussy and searching for the bottom. It was getting better and better-his load was building to an unbelievable peak.
He fucked to the right, barely in her pussy. He fucked to the left. Regina moved about, making the target difficult to penetrate. Clark had to catch her buttocks in his hands to hold her steady. His ass pumped up and down like a jackhammer . . . the semen already spilling from his prick tube. He tightened his muscles to hold back the flood. Each stroke he made was like a slow, beautiful release. It was just getting to the stage where he could let himself go, when the phone rang.
The phone call was from Clark's father. There had been another rape killing.
The automobile came to a screeching halt. Clark and Regina got out and ran to the small group of police officers. There was an ambulance and two squad cars blocking off the street.
"We found this one about an hour ago. It looks like our boy has struck again. How do you explain this one, Miss Ashley?"
Regina looked down at the path of earth where the body had been. There were chalk marks outlining the body. A photographer snapped his last shot.
"This case is a little different. We found the same puncture marks on the throat, but on both sides this time. So there were four all together. From the looks of things, rape was not the primary motive. When we found the girl her dress had been ripped down the front, and her nipples sliced off. She was stretched out in a pool of blood."
"Inspector Ingles, was there any identification found? " asked Regina.
"That's another thing that was different, which blows your theory to pieces, Miss Ashley. This girl was a secretary for the government. All the others had been prostitutes."
"Sorry, dad! I guess you'll really be called out on the carpet. This makes the eighth victim!"
"If only we had some kind of a lead."
"Pardon me, but where are we? This all looks familiar to me somehow," said Regina.
"Don't tell me you feel some kind of psychic power? You think you've been here before?"
"I know you men think women are stupid, but sometimes we sense things. Where is this place?"
Then both men looked at each other. The idea had not occurred to them, but they were only one mile from the Sinclair estate, where they had attended the dinner party earlier.
"Naw, it couldn't be. I know what you're thinking-"
"How can you when I don't-" she replied.
"What my father is trying to tell you is that we are less than one mile from the Sinclair estate."
"I knew it! I sensed it."
"You sensed what?"
"Never mind, Inspector Ingles. We'll let you get back to your work. Clark, will you drive me back to my hotel! I think I know how to burst this case wide open!"
The next morning the phone in Regina Ashley's apartment did not answer. Clark Ingles became frantic with worry. He rushed over to the hotel. The desk clerk said that Regina had left early, before eight o'clock. There were no messages for Clark. Now it was he who sensed danger. Where the hell could Regina be? Had she been taken against her will.
On the morning of October 18th, Regina Ashley parked the car she had rented in front of the circular driveway of the Sinclair estate. When greeted at the door, the servant told her that the senator and his wife were not in. Regina asked if Lord Edmington was receiving visitors. She was asked to wait at the door while the butler disappeared into the study.
Suddenly, Lord Edmington loomed in the doorway of the study. He dismissed the butler and asked Regina Ashley to come into his study.
Regina felt chilled and very much in danger as she went into the dark study. It was a room with a tall ceiling and there were bookcases surrounding the walls. The French windows were closed and draped. There was very little sunlight coming in through the curtains. Lord Edmington, his face drained, seated himself behind the desk.
"What can I do for you, Miss Ashley? I dare say you didn't just chance by this morning . . . "
Lord Edmington was wearing a smoking jacket, a black ascot choked around his neck with a gold pin. His grim eyes cut into Regina like an X-ray.
"I say, I hope I didn't disturb you, sir."
Regina stood there longer than need be, wanting him to see her. This morning she knew she was breathtaking. It had taken long hours to apply her make-up, and everything was just so. The face was fresh, having that early morning glow, rosy cheeks and bright white smile. It quickly faded.
"Let's not play games, Miss Ashley. You underestimate me, as I had underestimated you. Had I known that you were on my trail, believe me, it would have been a different story. However, since I am in a strange country-there were circumstances beyond my control."
"Well then, you are the man I was looking for," Regina said, trying to remain calm with her arms folded over her sumptuous bust.
"You are a clever woman," he said. "How did you know I was the killer? You might as well tell me, Miss Ashley. You don't have much longer to live."
"Why?" She was outraged, realizing that she had solved her case. Lord Edmington was the rape killer.
Lord Edmington stood up and went to the cabinet. He opened it and there was a mirror inside. He stepped in front of it. "Now-what do you see?"
Lord Edmington had no reflection.
"Incredible!" she said, calmly.
"There are many things on this planet human beings do not understand. This planet is only a stopping-off place; there is another side where we do our life's work."
"You know, of course, that you will be apprehended. You don't dare kill me because my friends, Inspector Ingles and his son will come looking for me."
"Nonsense. You wouldn't have found me if it hadn't been for your psychic powers. You had best say a prayer. We have need of your substance now. . . "
"What part does Senator Sinclair play in all this? Does he know what you are?" Regina asked.
"Of course, Miss Ashley. Sinclair is a member of our devil's cult, in America." Lord Edmington pushed a button on the desk and the door to the study opened.
Alicia and the butler stood there, leering at her. The butler moved toward Regina on Lord Edmington's command. Regina's mind searched for some means to escape. She drew back into a corner, preparing to defend herself. Lord
Edmington raised his hand in a symbolic gesture instantly Regina Ashley was put into a deep trance and became paralyzed.
"Take her down to the basement. I will deal with her later."
When Regina regained consciousness she found herself locked in a dark basement that looked like an ancient dungeon. High above her was a window and a shaft of moonlight sliced the darkness. Her eyes gradually became accustomed to the eerie black surroundings. This place looked like the torture chamber used in the early thirteenth century. There was a long black table that sat in the middle of the dungeon. An old metal door clanked shut at the top of the staircase. She heard footsteps descending the stone steps. Then there stood Lord Edmington and Alicia.
"What are you going to do with me?" Regina asked. She made no sound. She was powerless to speak. She was shocked to discover that when she tried moving her limbs, she could not.
Alicia carried a candelabrum of nickering candles. She put it down on the table and looked at Regina. The light from the candles distorted Alicia's features and Regina cringed.
Lord Edmington stood in the background. Regina's eyes flashed back to Alicia. There was a royal blue cape with blood-red lining around Alicia's shoulders. Alicia's face was drawn one side of her face was twisted, and the muscles stretched her mouth hideously. Before Regina's eyes, Alicia was undergoing a strange process of disfiguration: the face that was once young and beautiful was now aging, transcending into a milky white of ageless, caked fish.
Alicia's eyes were yellow in the dark, bloodshot, drilling into Regina's.
Regina felt fright as never before. Alicia came closer. She spread her arms and opened the cape. She was naked beneath-and her body was no longer that of a child, but of a woman hundreds of years old.
Alicia's right hand clutched the neck of a dead chicken. The chicken had been plucked of its feathers; it, too, was naked and scaly-looking. Blood dripped from where its neck used to be-onto the cold, stone dungeon floor.
They were face to face. Regina wanted to scream and end this nightmare. She could only stand there and see the bloody chicken touch her tawny flesh.
Regina's head dropped to see Alicia rub the chicken over her breasts. The blood painted Regina's body crimson. When this was done, Alicia threw off the cape and kneeled before Regina.
Slowly, the aging flesh of Alicia hunched forward and began licking Regina's body. She fastened her mouth to the trembling breasts. She bit down hard on the nipples and rolled them in her mouth. Alicia devoured the English woman's body with gluttonous jowls. She moved her mouth down Regina's side, across her stomach, and down to the entanglement of pubic hairs.
Lord Edmington stood beside his hideous daughter; his eyes savoring the sumptuous curves of Regina's body. He raised her hair to bare the back of Regina's neck. He leaned over and kissed her there to taste of the succulent beauty.
"What a beautiful child she is" he said, in a mysterious voice from some other world.
"Yes, master she is so young and tender . . . . "
When Alicia had thoroughly licked Regina's body clean, she reached open Lord Edmington's cape. She bowed her head before lifting his penis in her fingers. Regina heard her say, "Oh, master, we are here to do your biddingto obey the serpent of life that hangs between your legs."
Regina could only move her eyes. She saw Alicia, her face a thousand years old now, press against Lord Edmington's penis.
The penis was like none she'd ever seen. It indeed looked like an evil serpent, coiled and lumped, like a boa constrictor. It overlapped its length, and a red shiny apple-size crown hissed in the air squirming like a periscope, searching for the pussy now a foot away.
Oh, no! Not that hideous thing! Regina died a little inside, but nevertheless she could feel her pussy properly boiling. He must not touch her with that snake-like phallus. But what could she do to prevent it? She was under the spell of this vampire and his blood-thirsty daughter.
"Lay her down on the rack. The time is at hand and the hour hastens past."
"Yes, master. I will do as you say. For soon it will be midnight. Soon we will have this virgin's blood to restore our youth and cast off this ugly skin that befell our bodies. . . "
"Quickly. I have need of her. This evil, devil's spirit within my phallus will not be patient a moment longer."
He threw back his cape and it fell to the floor. Regina had been placed upon the rack. Lord Edmington hovered over her, his phallus dangling, uncoiling, and slithering toward the golden thighs.
The head of the phallus pinpointed the open vagina and its length stiffened. Lord Edmington looked down upon himself-as if he had no control over the throbbing linkage of phallus -now descending into Regina's pussy!
His body cast a long shadow over her blond, ravishing body. Somehow, the horror mirrored on her face made it a delight to fuck her. Lord Edmington, the hideous man that he was, was not of the human species. He was centuries old and his blood line was rooted in the savage prehistoric caveman. Pussy was more than a substance to be possessed by his long phallus-pussy was the transfusion by which he existed. To be knee-deep in bottomless pussy was to know life itself. It was a labor of love by which he restored himself that he may live yet another century.
He and his giant-sized phallus had an obligation to the gods of evil to cleanse this female creature of the bitchiness within. To fuck her so thoroughly clean, that she would then be pure as when first born into this world. His cock could go where no man dared, for he alone, through divine evilness, knew the inner working of a true woman's mind. He knew what delight the penis was for her, and she would be helpless but to obey the master with the most furious cock. . .
He raised both her legs so her knees were touching her tits. Regina Ashley was too reserved, too cold, too much of a liberated bitch to fuck, as you would an everyday female. The penetration into her vagina must be deep-to establish which of the souls bore the masculine title.
Her legs up he pushed the crown of his cock into her small pussy. The lips were tight and dry Regina was still frightened. He had no time to make her juicy enough to free-float a fuck to her. He shoved his tip hard into her center; the lips gave way and he was a good three inches into her tunnel. Inside the pussy there was more moisture, and he rolled his crown around and around in a tight circle to lubricate his shaft. He froze and noticed how hot the walls were, and how even though Regina pretended to be frightened, her pussy nonetheless contracted and tried to get a perfect fit on his dick.
He fucked her easily to begin with, to throw her off the track. She had expected a hard thrashing, with Lord Edmington grunting like a madman, possessed by the call of her cunt. He did not rape her, but seduced her senses to a hot frizzle where every stroke his dick would make, she would be aware of. His crown lay in the opening of her pussy like a giant snake resting getting energized and throbbing, each throb increasing the size of the crown. Until it fumed and swelled up like a tight balloon. He had literally plugged up Regina's cunt hole.
It was then that he viciously rammed his dick straight up her hole. His top hit rock-bottom and he threw his weight into her, fucking to break down that false bottom. All females present one level as the depth of their cunt holes. This is so nice men won't think their pussy is too big. They always tighten up their cunts until the going gets good and then they let loose-and a cock of any sizable length will sink yet another fathom.
His stiff, long dick took him well below her third level now. They were fucking into eternity, for he had the will to lift her through the deep trance he had put her into. She was experiencing the sensation of having stepped off into space floating amid astral organs being inside a tickle that was bliss, and then some. She could touch stars, and float from planet to planet, see wondrous things, a hallucination that was more real than life, as long as he fucked her thrashingly, brutally in machine-gun spurts. She screamed in horror, and utter delight, with mixed emotion. This devil of a man-creature was inside her soul, his evil power had taken her where no penis had. Truly, his length would slide through her midsection up into her mouth where she could, perhaps, suck his crown while he fucked her.
His good dick made the moment a shower of glorious fantasies!
He was reborn again through the carnal spirit by watching the expression on her face, as he drove deep into her pussy. Not leaving her an inch to spare, while fucking her so hard and deep, her mouth was open and gasping for breath. He humped her deep, and added a twist to his strokes, that caused a movement at the top of her cervix. It thrilled her beyond imagination. A dick that really screwed. But then she thought that was only because this man was one of the devil's own, and his penis was, perhaps, in reality, a serpent perhaps that same ancestry that tempted Eve in the Garden of Eden.
It must be. It was too good. No other explanation would satisfy her, because every woman dreams of being taken by the sheer power, and force of a gluttonous man! A man who cared nothing for morals, and saved no bright moment, than that which he felt while burrowing knee-deep in her good worth. It was then that Regina Ashley felt she was all about something a part of this universe. A hard, stiff, burrowing gorge of an evil dick was the only thing that would satisfy that empty void that pleased her femininity.
She knew that he would no doubt take her life when he had finished with her. It was that thought that made it so funky. The fuck of death! Maybe there was in her feminine will power, the power to fuck him to death, while he mounted her. To make it so good to the snake dick inside her, that she would send him into a cardiac arrest! Just whip her pussy on him in such a way that it would blow his circuit. Even the devil could be pussy-whipped. And indeed, she had the devil, himself scraping", cleaning out the fifth, and sixth level of her bottomless pussy.
She opened her pussy up to him in such a way as to say there was no more left after fourteen inches of his dick but he seemed to know that she could go on climaxing, and stretching her pussy forever just as long as he had another stab to take she'd give it up.
In the depths of her warm pussy, he had descended his stiff cock to her eighth level they had reached a sexual beta. Into which they floated out into a hollow shell and the world was a silent whisper. They met there in a different form than Regina had known, outside her body. This fucking had taken her inside her body actually inside her vagina.
From where they stood upon the soft, pink tissues of her inner lining, they could see the round head of his penis moving at them. They were at the end of her tunnel looking back at her vagina walls contracting over the head of his dick.
Together they grew smaller and smaller, beyond the size of a single molecule, split in half, until the goodness enveloped them and an electric current ignited and they exploded back into full bloom and emerged as a glorious orgasm!
"Oh, no, no, no, no, no . . . stop it! It's too good!" screamed Regina Ashley opening her eyes and realizing she was still in the hideous dungeon, and this devil man was on top of her.
"I must have it all!" he said grumpily, seeing that his will was weakening. Regina had somehow broken his power, while they were in the house of beta.
Regina also had psychic powers. Hers lay with goodness.
"Kill her now," screamed Alicia. "She is of another spirit."
Alicia clawed at Lord Edmington's back to get him off Regina. It was she who was working the spell, with her legs coupled over his back and her pussy fucking a mile a second they were stuck.
"Master, I beg of you stop!"
"I cannot! I must show her that our will is greater than good will. . . "
Regina said nothing, not understanding most of it, for she was still drugged and in a trance stage. But she did know that her pussy was not a part of her any longer, some other force had taken possession, devouring the serpent within her.
There was a struggle between Alicia and Lord Edmington. He was pulled back and off the pussy.
"My lord, come to yourself. It is two minutes to midnight! We must drink her blood. . . "
"Yes, yes, you're right," he breathed heavily, looking around the dungeon wildly. His mind racing frantically, knowing that the blood ritual must be completed before midnight or he and Alicia would perish.
It was life or death for the both of them.
They stood with Regina between them. They both simultaneously leaned over her neck . . . their mouths open and suddenly there were long front fangs that materialized like magic.
Regina screamed for her life!
Their fangs pricked the skin on her neck . . . and she held her breath.
"Hold it right there, Lord Edmington!"
Voices came from the top of the stairs.
Clark Ingles came flying through the air from the top of those steps. He crash landed on Edmington and the table holding Regina toppled over. Alicia screamed and grabbed up her cap and flung it before her face spreading her arms into wings.
There was confusion as Inspector Ingles and two policemen ran down the steps. Clark and Edmington wrestled into a dark corner. Alicia in fright picked up the candelabrum and threw it at the chasing policemen. They leaped back. The candelabrum crashed to the floor and ignited. Flames rose up instantly, separating Alicia and the policemen.
"Get back! Watch the fire."
"Somebody grab Regina . . . "
"Clark!" Inspector Ingles called through the smoke and flames.
No answer came from the corner of the dungeon. Then the inspector saw his son come stumbling into view, holding his neck.
"He bit me."
"Never mind, grab Regina and let's get out of here."
There was another loud noise from the corner and a tremendous crash as wooden posts gave way and cracked. The last thing they all saw before escaping the dungeon was Lord
Edmington, body aflame, his arms outstretched like a burning cross . . . and they heard his pitiful cries of agony just before he went up in smoke!
It was a long drive from the Sinclair estate back to police headquarters. Regina Ashley sat beside Clark Ingles, slowly regaining her composure.
"A job well done, Miss Ashley-"
"I thought I was finished. I'm happy you found me. That was a good piece of detective work in itself."
Clark asked, "How did you know it was the lord?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you the truth. I sensed it. Lord Edmington was not only a cult leader but he also believed in Communism. He had lived in Wales, in a small village where the party drew up a master plan to destroy the United States. He came to London to confer with higher members of. the party. But Lord Edmington was indeed a vampire, of sorts. He had a very rare disease and only certain types of blood would save his life. Which was the reason for killing the girls. They purposely severed the breasts from the victims to throw the cops off . . . to make the crimes appear more bizarre and perpetrated by a mad, rape killer . . . "
"And the senator, what was his part in it?"
"Senator Sinclair was born in Southhampton, England. He was taught Communism since he was three years old. His father was an army captain, so the party figured that his cover would be perfect. They trained him during all those early years to take office in this country. Simple. Sinclair was a member of the devil cult and it all fell right in line. He was supposed to have spearheaded the Communist plan I think we interfered just in time!"
"Miss Ashley you are amazing. I'm happy to say that this case is closed."
Inspector Ingles had a broad smile on his face when he saw his son kissing Regina. Regina would be a welcome member to their family.