Chapter 8
After giving me a thorough trouncing, the Lunies tied my hands behind my back with their sashes and dragged me to the elevator.
"As you will soon discover, Mr. Grue, the Children of Luna deal harshly with spies and traitors," Bruckner said as he shoved me into the cubicle.
Two heavy set Brothers joined us in the elevator and I was quickly transported up to the penthouse abode of His Radiance.
Evidently the word had traveled ahead of us. Sigmund den Err was there in person to greet me as the elevator door opened. He was wearing his star-spangled robe, grinning like a fiend, and he held a heavy caliber, chrome plated automatic pistol aimed at my forehead. The others salaamed their demigod.
"Well, well, Brother Bruckner, what have we here?" he said merrily, looking me up and down with keen interest.
"The traitor Grue, your Radiance," Bruckner said solemnly.
"The proverbial 'bad apple,' eh, Brothers?"
The three lackeys of Luna smirked as though their lives depended on it.
"Is he securely bound?" den Err asked, waving for them to turn me around to he could inspect the knots. "Yes, yes, that will do for the present. You may leave us now," he told the others. "The Furies will attend to my safety."
As the elevator door closed, den Err got behind me, jabbed the ice cold muzzle of the gleaming Nambu behind my right ear, and said, "March!"
I marched. He shoved me down the short white hall to a pair of double doors that stood ajar.
When I paused at the entry way, he said, "What's wrong, Mr. Grue, have you never been in the parlor of a deity before ? "Then he pushed me through the door.
The bald turkey sure knew how to live, I'll give him that. He had his penthouse decorated in Middle Valentino: it looked like the inside of some Arab sheik's tent. Tapestries on the walls, Persian carpets on the floor, low ebony tables, cushions instead of chairs. It was all very impressive.
"Please, Mr. Grue," den Err said, "sit down anywhere." His Radiance took a seat under a hand painted silk canopy, a very busy design in reds and yellows, on a big pile of silk throw pillows.
I sat down on the other side of the low coffee table that stood in the center of the ring of cushions, putting the table between him and me, figuring that if worst came to worst I could always kick the damn thing up into his greasy face.
"Now you must tell me all about yourself," he said, smugly, taking the safety off the pistol's firing mechanism and pointing it at my right kneecap.
"The name's Bascom Grue. I'm a P.I., " I said, not really caring what came out of my mouth. I was trying to figure some angle, some way to get the hell out with a whole skin and both kneecaps. "The mother of one of your converts got worried when she didn't show up for breakfast two weeks running and hired me to make sure she was all right."
"The mother of Hildy Knutsen?"
"That's privileged information."
"How quaint, Mr. Grue. Really quite droll of you. But, of course, you've just given me the answer anyway."
"So what? What difference does it make who I'm working for?"
"It makes no difference at all to me," den En-said, "but it might matter to you, since it is a question of life and death."
"Huh?"
"Your life and death. It is very simple. If you are, as I believe, working for Mrs. Knutsen I'm going to have you killed. If you can prove to me that you are not, I will only have you permanently maimed."
Jeez! Not that I had a choice anyway. Undoubtedly, poor Hildy would be only too glad to repeat what I told her downstairs to her "deity."
"Since you've already made up your mind, I'd hate like hell to disappoint you," I said.
"What bravery! Or is it bravado? We shall soon see, Mr. Grue."
"Could you at least tell me why you're going to snuff me?"
Den Err shrugged his shoulders. "That doesn't seem like too much to ask. Very well, as you and I both know, the Knutsens were intended to 'voluntarily' contribute a large sum of money to the furtherance of the Church of the Waning Moon."
"To finance the search for the Perfect Truth?"
"Your attempt at witticism is pathetic, Grue. If you had been watching the faces of the faithful down in the meeting hall you would know that the Perfect Truth has been found ... it lives ... it is ME."
"Oh."
"The Knutsens are just a tiny part of a large scale fund raising program I have instituted."
"How many of your followers are you blackmailing?"
"Your ignorance is showing again. It is not how many but which ones? Ten of the right people are infinitely more valuable than a thousand of ordinary folk."
"So you check the Dun and Bradstreet ratings?"
"Something in that vein. I need an immense amount of capital. I am using the funds to assist me in the expansion of my church. In five years I envision a global network of the Children of Luna. You understand that I could never let a single, rather insignificant human life stand in my way."
"Sure. I understand. You have a noble purpose. But tell me how you do it, how you get all those
"Sure. I understand. You have a noble purpose. But tell me how you do it, how you get all those tight young chicks to go along with you?"
Den Err grinned. "I will do better than that. I will demonstrate." He reached above his head and grasped a thick bell rope with a long tassel at the end. He gave the rope a tug.
Almost instantly a side door opened and two stunningly beautiful fifteen year old girls rushed in bearing a large golden goblet on a red velvet cushion. They were wearing the same type of black cut out bra that Hildy'd worn to the domination lecture and matching black garter belt, nylons and high heels. The taller of the two had blonde hair cut in a severe dutch boy style, blue eyes and a turned up nose. Her body was very slim and firm, the tits hardly jiggling at all as she moved, her waist almost ridiculously slender, her hips narrow and boyish, her legs very long. Between her legs she had only a fine sprinkling of golden down that failed to mask the deep pink cleft in her mons.
The shorter girl had brown hair and it was frizzy enough to be worn in a fluffy afro, though she was not black. She had a much more opulent body than her partner: big, sassy tits with heavy red tips, round, full hips, and lots of dense brown fur on her wide, protuberant pudenda.
"I'm glad to see that you appreciate beauty, Mr. Grue," Den Err said, taking the goblet from the pillow and placing it on the floor beside him. "This is Trina," he said, pointing at the blonde girl. "Tell Mr. Grue about yourself, Trina."
The girl was very shy but overcame her self-consciousness when the high priest took a short, braided leather quirt from under his pillow.
"My name is Trina Treblow. My father owns Treblow Industries, which produce one-eighth of the world's supply of bottle caps. I am fifteen years old...."
Den Err urged her on by gently stroking her firm buns with the whip.
"...and I'm a virgin," she finished.
"And this is Loolie McShay," His Radiance informed me. "Go on, Loolie, tell him how much money your father has."
"My father has net assets of over ten million dollars," she said, shooting a quick, fearful look at her master. "...and I'm a virgin, too...."
"Very good. I'm sure Mr. Grue has been suitably edified."
"But how did you get them here?" I asked.
TTHHHWWAACK! The quirt sizzled down on Loolie's plump behind, causing her to jump forward and thrust her hands over her cheeks, in a belated attempt to protect them.
"OWWW!" she said, rubbing herself, tears welling up in her dark eyes. "Some of the Children of Luna were hanging around our junior high and they said we could help humanity if we came along with them and joined the Church of the Waning Moon."
"Uh-huh," Trina interjected, "and they were so cool and together and committed that a bunch of us girls decided to see what it was all about."
"But once we got here," Loolie said, making a sour face, "all they make us do is drink that awful stuff and put their big hairy cocks in our mouths."
"It's awful!" Trina whined. "And I want to go home right now!"
"There, there, Trina. Don't be cranky in front of our company," den Err said. The high priest fumbled with the waistband of his skimpy bikini briefs.
Loolie saw what he was about to do and groaned, "Oh, no! Not again!"
Frankly, I was amazed at what fell out of den Err's undies. Especially after seeing the hungus rod he waved about on stage. To say that his weenie was a mere shadow of its former self would have been the understatement of the week. I mean, the dude had a mouse dick on him, a tiny, wizened tube of meat, all sort of a golden yellow color and the head was even darker, almost walnut colored. His testes were completely lost in the tangle of black pubes; no longer soft balls swinging in a paper thin sack.
His Radiance then lifted the goblet to his lips and drank deep of the drugged wine. Smacking his lips, he pressed the cup at Loolie who refused it.
"I don't want any," she said. "It tastes nasty and makes me do things that I hate."
TTTHHHWWWAACK! Her right buttock leapt from the power of the blow.
"Uhhhhh!" she whimpered, clutching herself, eyes wide with terror.
"Drink!" he said.
When she obediently took the goblet from him, I could see the gruesome welt that was swelling up on her sassy bottom, a puffy line of pink across those satiny cheeks.
She took a swallow and made a face. He tipped the goblet up, pouring the stuff down her throat, spilling the red fluid all down over her titties.
Trina, obviously terrified by what had happened to her friend, did exactly as she was told. She drained the cup and then stood there, watching the priest, waiting.
She did not have long to wait. The effects on den Err were almost instantaneous. His insignificant little nerd of a dick began to swell and grow, as if it were being inflated with air. It surged out and sprang up to thump against his pot belly. A veritable bludgeon of a prick. And his nuts, too, started bloating out until the yellow brown sack was stretched tight over the heavy orbs.
I could hardly hide my amazement.
"Yes, Mr. Grue," he said, grinning, inspecting the broad blind face of his swollen cock, "my satyrion is marvelous, is it not?"
"Satyrion?"
"The drug that turns everything to pleasure. A true aphrodisiac. It is a derivative of another drug which you may have heard of: L-dopa."
It was my turn to grin. "You mean the stuff they supposedly give to geriatric patients so they can make whoopee from their wheelchairs?"
"A derivative, Grue, a derivative. It not only stimulates the urge to copulate, but it also causes rapid enlargement of the sexual organs in the male."
What I'd read about the sex drug L-dopa had been much less enthusiastic. It was unstable, unpredictable and highly dangerous if used excessively.
"...it appears to be a state of Priapism, but actually the drug is transmogrifying undifferentiated body cells into penile and gonadal tissue
The two girls were showing effects of the satyrion, too. The tall blonde's cheeks were touched with the fever and the hairless slit in her mound had expanded, opened to show slippery pink flesh, a long stiff clitoris, and the loosening flaps of her inner labia. The brown-haired girl was even more aroused. She was rubbing the summit of her mound with the heel of her hand, causing the puffy red lips to pucker and smooch, to leak clear, viscous fluid.
"HEEL!" den Err bellowed, punctuating his command with a sizzling crack of the quirt across a handy pillow.
The girls whimpered in unison and dropped to their knees, one on either side of him.
"Witness, Mr. Grue, that these are not gutter snipes who would suck a sailor's unwashed whang for the price of a game of Pong," he said. "These are high born young bitches with carefully cultivated pretensions."
TTTHHHWWWAACK!! He brought the quirt down on Trina's bare buns. She jerked, yelped, and lowered her head, pressing her nipples, which stuck from the holes in the tips of the cut-out bra like pencil stubs, into the fat man's hairy thigh. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, drool streaming down her chin.
TTTTTH H H H WA ACK!!
"Eeeeee!" Loolie wailed as he crossed the first welt with another, cutting an X into the smooth meat of her ass. She, too, rubbed her hard nipples into his leg, lowered her head and opened her mouth.
"Now these bitches will suck!" he said, giving each of them a TTTHHHWWWAACK!! for good measure.
The girls jerked forward, slobbering all over themselves, and trapped the huge, red bulb of his cock between their open mouths.
"Uhhhhng!" he groaned as the slick heat enveloped his pudcap.
The teenagers began groaning too, groaning and kissing the dick head passionately, wrapping their lips about it, sliding their tongues over it. They kissed each other, too, around the great knob, tongues touching, lips pressing.
"This is how a trained bitch should act," den Err said, indicating the submissive, all fours position with titties low and ass raised up high in the air, the closed rapturous eyes, blushing cheeks, the torrent of hot drool that rushed from their lips and cascaded down his throbbing pole.
They really did seem to adore his cock. It was as if they were worshipping it, groveling before its massive girth, its unflinching rigidity, beseeching if for a swallow or two of hot salvation. Their tongues flicked over the flaring rim, seesawed into the deep slot that divided the helmet, rasped over the heavy drapery of his nerve bundle.
It was hard to believe that these were the same two demure girls of a few minutes before. They seemed rather to be the gutter snipes that den Err had described . . low life teen tarts who enjoyed nothing quite so much as a quick, juicy thrust session behind the bowling alley with a contingent from the local motorcycle club. Humping in among the garbage cans.
TTTTHHHWWWACK! The quirt sang, smacking into the upturned buttocks.
"Mmmmmm," the girls moaned in harmony, fastening their lips to his greasy shaft, forming a hot U of girl mouth on either side of his tool so that their upper lips touched at his nerve bundle. Then, raising their hot bottoms up for more corporal punishment, they began to slide their mouths down his shaft.
Oh, it was lewd indeed to see the girls masturbating him like that, pressing their mouths together around his choad and moving up and down, up and down, leaving behind a snail's trail of shining slobber.
TTTHHHWWWAACK! came the refrain, buns quivering, bellies heaving, tongues lashing over the hairy root of his cock.
"OOOOOHHHMMMM!" they gasped, tasting the musty staleness of his bloated scrotum. Their pussies gave forth with double gushers of lubricant that ran down the inside of their thighs and into the tops of their nylons. Each of the frantic teeners sucked a great teste in her mouth and gave it tender suck, doting on the tart gooseflesh, the wild and lengthy hairs that adorned it.
Den Err just sat there, his neck and face growing redder by the instant, occasionally giving the groveling girls a corrective crack of the quirt.
"Ummmm, yes," he said, his eyes slitting with the pleasure, "yes, Mr. Grue, I get great satisfaction from these little displays of homage."
"Drug induced displays of homage."
"Does that matter? Wouldn't you like to have these bitches for a pair of bookends ... regardless of their mental state?"
I said nothing, but watched their tongues laving his testes, turning them a bright red hue from the friction of pebbly surface.
"I daresay you'd sacrifice your left gonad for the privilege," he ranted, puffing from the sex thrills he was getting. He slid the quirt tip down between Trina's thighs, rubbing it over the hairless but gaping lips of her cunt, making her whinny with joy. "I keep these virgins around to handle the odd jobs that come up. When I tire of them, they are used in the Service."
"Public defloration?"
"It is a rite as old as time. Afterwards ... uhhhh! ... they are sent out to join the rest of the ... uhhh ... flock."
Den Err's face was darkening even further, edging over from red to a light purple. The head of his cock had the same malady and a gob of thick, white pre-come had oozed from his nuts and clung onto the cleft in his dickhead for dear life.
Loolie smelled the fresh spunk and left off her ball sucking to feed. She licked the goo right from the head of his dick and swallowed it down, moaning with the kicks it gave her.
"Uhhhh!" said den Err, his ass shifting on the pillow.
Trina, realizing that she was missing out, gave up on the teste of her choice and thrust her mouth beside Loolie's on the slippery pudcap. Then the two of them began to suck.
"UHHHHH!"
Their cheeks went concave as they fought to maintain position directly over the slot in his cock. Two pairs of greedy lips sucking, trying to bring forth the white deluge.
The double suction was more than the high priest could handle. He let out a gasp, stiffened, and grabbed hold of both girls' hair in his hands.
"Eat spurt!" he wheezed, mashing their mouths down on his tumescent tool as the first gooey dollop surged forth.
The girls fought for it and ended up sharing it, smearing it over each other's mouths with their hungry tongues.
And then the second volley and the third exploded from his dickhead and he grinned and denied them easy access to the bubbling goo, dragging their mouths up and down his pole, letting the steaming sperm flop over their cheeks, their hair, their necks.
The moaning was mind-wrenching, a din of whimpers and snuffles, of slurping and snuffling, as the teenagers in heat slid their lips over his spermy shaft.
While Trina and Loolie gave each other thorough face cleanings, den Err rose to his feet and pulled his bikini underpants up over his diminutive genitalia.
"So sorry to see you go, Mr. Grue," he said, reaching up and tugging on the bell rope. "Better luck in your next reincarnation."