Chapter 4
When Pearl suggested that Rita stay on for a few days, Rita was pleased to accept. She was in no hurry to return to Belfast and her dull job at the store. With John O'Toole dead she couldn't be certain of the firm's future, for "Big John" had no family. Pearl was spoiled, possessive and demanding, but there was something about her that Rita liked, and the brunette's lesbian tendencies didn't impose any barrier whatever. For the moment Rita had lost interest in men.
Pearl insisted on giving her money and buying clothes for her. Rita indulged Pearl's whims and sexual appetite, and gained something from the association herself. She forgot her ambitions for the time being, and when the shock of the accident gradually diminished she even enjoyed a state of emotional tranquility and was happy just to be with Pearl, jealousy looked after and protected. Pearl made no secret of what she was. Her parents were not due back for another month, and Pearl had a special party planned, with some very special guests.
Pearl was, Rita discovered, prone to peculiar beliefs and kinky fantasies, obsessed with off-beat doctrines and pagan rituals. She had a profound belief in the supernatural, and freely admitted dabbling in black magic and other sinister practices. She derived kicks from associating with a weird crowd involved in witchcraft and Devil worship. There was, she told Rita, a witches' "coven" operative in that area, and their next meeting was scheduled for that weekend, at her home. Rita would, Pearl declared, meet some very influential people—writers, artists, musicians, television and film producers, celebrities ... It was all very mysterious and exciting, and Rita would find it "stimulating". Whenever she spoke of witchcraft and dark orgies Pearl's eyes blazed with intense excitement and her voice became uncouth and strained.
Rita was amused and mildly interested. She was becoming bored, and considered the unusual "party" might prove entertaining. Pearl's talk of influential people stirred smoldering ashes of ambition. It might, Rita thought, be just the break she needed.
On the Saturday night of the "party" Rita developed strange symptoms, a mood of reckless exuberance combined with tremendous sexual excitement, a lustful craving she attributed to some kind of aphrodisiac drug surreptitiously administered by Pearl, who shared the same compulsive tension and boisterous gaiety and was obviously in a drugged condition. The effects drove all inhibitions from Rita's mind. She was by nature promiscuous, and nothing mattered to her as she put on the white linen robe Pearl laid out for her. She laughed foolishly without cause, accepted everything in blind faith, without question, entering wholly into the spirit of the intriguing venture. Pearl's enthusiasm was infectious.
The tall brunette wore black, a loose, sweeping gown that trailed on the floor. Underneath, she was naked. Rita accompanied her into the spacious grounds where, screened by a belt of dark cedars and elms, was an old burial vault, the entrance almost hidden by dense bushes. Beyond the massive door stone steps led down to a surprisingly vast chamber, stone-built, the size of a swimming pool, extending into sinister gloom where the coffins of long-dead Delaneys rested on ledges gathering dust and cobwebs. Pearl flipped a switch and flooded the vault with eerie bluish light, and Rita saw that another door opened off the main vault, iron-studded and tremendously heavy, but fitted with a modern lock.
Pearl opened it, preceded Rita into an even larger vault, and groped for another wall switch. Garish lighting revealed a fabulous set-up—luxury amid age-old decay, fantastic drapes, lewd scenes painted on the dank stone, phallic symbols . . . Hideous gargoyle statues occupied dim recesses. There was a sinister altar draped with black cloth and set with tall black candles, as yet unlit, in-freakishly designed brass holders. Additional concealed lighting cast a variety of color patterns, a weird overall glow that heightened the macabre effect. A cloying aroma pervaded the musty atmosphere. Chairs were arranged with a wide space between the curving front row and a raised platform covered with black carpet. Rita noticed inverted crosses, and lurid likenesses of the Devil carved in wood or cast in plaster. On a low table, somberly draped in black, stood an enormous metal bowl containing some dark red liquid.
It was all very strange, and in normal circumstances would have seemed ludicrous, but in her present mood Rita was impressed, awed by the eerie setting. Subdued, she followed Pearl back into the main vault and through the grounds to the house. Pearl, usually garrulous and demonstrative, was strangely silent. Fixing drinks, she kept looking at her wristwatch. Rita, pouring herself three fingers of Scotch, was surprised by the unsteadiness of her hand. But the whisky helped, exploding like a bomb in her belly and quieting her nervousness. She poured another.
Shortly before midnight a car entered the broad drive and was quickly followed by others. Within a short while the house was swarming with people of all ages, although the emphasis was on youth, weird types, freakishly dressed and, for the most part, nauseatingly obvious in their affected mannerisms. For half an hour they continued to arrive, some furtively, others boisterously familiar, noisy, a few aloof and arrogant, but all infected by the same tense expectation, a kind of guilty, gloating preoccupation.
Rita's presence aroused considerable comment and speculation. A tall, cadaverously thin man named Alistair Cromer appeared to be the central figure. He had a sensual mouth and steel-grey hair, and bulging eyes that seemed to see right through Rita when Pearl introduced her. Alistair was cordial but direct, anxious for Rita to understand the principles of the cult while emphasizing the need for absolute secrecy and discretion. She must, he warned her, be prepared to undergo certain initiation rites prior to being accepted into the coven.
Rita, prompted by Pearl and further stupefied with liquor, readily agreed to everything. She answered intimate questions and was highly amused by the whole procedure, tortured by curiosity and impatient for the action to commence. Eventually the entire gathering left the house and moved quietly toward the tree shrouded mausoleum, cowled figures shuffling in the eerie moonlight, black robes trailing, faces hidden. Alistair headed the straggling procession.
In the huge chamber beyond the musty main vault the coven gathered, some seated, others in groups. There was no smoking. Pagan music relayed softly over a concealed loudspeaker system maintained a solemn dirge. The lights were dimmed, the doors locked. The odor of incense became stronger. The tension was so acute it could almost have been cut with a knife. Alistair, his lean figure draped in a black robe edged with crimson and gold, appeared on the platform and stood with bony hands splayed and his skinny arms uplifted, commanding silence. The hum of conversation ceased. Cromer's voice rang out, harsh and resonant, welcoming the cult and invoking the powers of darkness and evil.
Rita, seated beside Pearl on the front row, felt sleepy, overpoweringly drowsy. The vault was stuffy, lacking adequate ventilation. She was uneasy, restless, waiting for something to happen, anticipating it yet somehow dreading it, wishing she hadn't become involved. She had been raised in the Catholic faith, and while she had never been very devout there was something alien and sinister about that blasphemous assembly. But the drug and the whisky were a powerful combination, and when she heard her name mentioned Rita was instantly alert, eager despite acute apprehension. A silver cup was filled from the huge bowl and passed round the gathering. Everybody drank. Rita, cautiously tasting the dark brew, discovered it was merely wine—and felt both relief and mild disappointment. The whole grotesque set-up, she suspected, was just a front, an excuse for sexual license and drunken orgies. Cunning bastards.
The tall speaker retreated into the shadows. A gong boomed hollowly. Instantly the assembly broke up in shouting disorder, screaming, chanting, throwing off their robes and capering obscenely, men and women prancing stark naked, some elderly or middle-aged, others, the majority, just kids, laughing, squealing, cavorting. Changing light hues revealed a bewildering confusion of pale bodies, white flesh contrasting with bronzed limbs, the virile muscularity of youth accentuating the ravages of age, protruding bellies and flabby tits, ponderous buttocks, jutting boobs, elongated nipples, rounded arse cheeks, plump, dimpled moons joggling, squashing, shaggy mounds and dangling pricks, shadow-stressed folds and creases, luscious cleavage, swollen, hairy balls, fleshy cocks jutting, hugely erect, tremendous phallic monstrosities, others atrophied, pathetic, flaccid-a pagan horde swaying and shaking and moaning in the grip of mass-hysteria prior to debauchery, naked fanatics yielding aggressively to unbridled lust in their gross interpretation of unholy rites.
Rita, watching, shrieked in wild abandon as a huge man, his body bulging with muscle and fat, leapt at a teenage blonde, his ten inches of hard prick jutting fiercely erect. He swung the giggling girl off her feet and held her head downward. Her legs, wide apart, waved wildly. She squealed as the man plunged his face between her thighs, mashing his thick lips against her generous cunt. Her trailing hair swept the stone floor, and as her head hung down close to the man's great root she opened her mouth and engulfed the bulging knob, sucked his stallion's prick voraciously as he lumbered with her across the vault, sniffing her arse and licking her throbbing minge.
Another man, younger, more muscular, grabbed a young redhead, suspended her in a similar position with her legs clamped round his thick neck, her large tits flapping against his belly, her cavernous mouth gobbling his fat penis while he moaned and munched with his face buried deep in the trembling crevice of her broad bottom and his mouth pressed into the warm vale of her vagina. Each time his stiff cock entered the girl's receptive mouth a ripple of tension quivered through the muscles of his hairy arse.
The other man set his blonde partner down and promptly positioned her with legs widespread and her slender body spreadeagled across the altar. Clutching his torrid prick, masturbating, he got between her taut thighs, separated the thickened folds of her quim and introduced his tool, grinning lecherously as he supported the girl with a firm grip on her legs above the knees, and jerked his cock into her in a series of ferocious thrusts that achieved total penetration without obstruction. With the whole of his prick snugly embedded, he commenced to fuck, grimacing, his eyes protruding, gradually increasing the fury of his berserk lunges, knees bent, buttocks pinched together, his dangling scrotum flapping from side to side and back and forth, gradually drawing up, bunching as the clawing sensation mounted in his loins. Each rapacious stroke drove his prick to the absolute limits of the girl's clutching sheath; and as he fucked her she smiled, her fingers gripping the crumpled altar cloth, legs jerking. The black candles, lighted now, shed a yellowish gleam over their merging bodies and brought the rapturous expression on the blonde's passion distorted face into harsh relief.
Across the vault, a middle-aged lecher pranced toward a smirking colored girl, flabby penis grasped in his freckled left hand. They fell to the floor, grappling, chuckling, the girl seizing the man's cock and roughly whanking it while he mauled and kissed her melon-like breasts, slobbering and gasping. Rita, watching open-mouthed, saw the limp prick lift and swell, saw the young Negress writhe down and take it in her wide mouth, close blubbery lips round it. While she sucked, a pale-faced youth, shaggy-haired and round-shouldered, tremendously endowed, rushed at her, heaved her to a kneeling posture and attempted to fuck her from behind but spunked all over her velvety black arse the instant his great boom prodded her dark rut.
Close-by, another youth adopted a crouching stance behind a fleshy woman old enough to be his mother. She stood with her fat legs apart and her feet firmly planted, and leaned forward acutely, flabby boobs dangling, and voiced obscene invectives while the youth mauled her great swollen buttocks, impatiently exhorting him to fuck her and striving to reach between her thighs to grasp his rampant cock. She gained her objective, pulled the pulsing knob into her loose cavity, squirmed back onto it, and the youth exploded into violent action, wrapping his sinewy arms round her plump hips and shagging into her gaping split like a dog with a bitch, head thrown back, teeth gritted.
A thickset man emerged from the gloom, masturbating furiously, yelled with delight when a teenage moron with hair black as night and breasts like balloons grabbed his arm and spun him round, knocked the hand away from his huge cock and avidly clutched the fat stalk. He promptly forced her to her knees, wound stubby fingers into her long hair, and thrust his prick at her mouth. She took it, and he fucked with savage fury, shouting triumphantly when his gushing load spat against the back of her spasmodically working throat.
Naked figures swarmed and clamored all around the vault, behind the altar and among the chairs; bewitched, drugged with sex, feeling and masturbating, sniffing each other's arses and indulging in mutual cocksucking and cuntlicking; laughing, groaning, jostling, comparing, fucking indiscriminately; cruelly distended pricks cleaving into tight slits and gaping quims, screwing relentlessly into shuddering arseholes, and into brown cavities so abnormally huge an average penis was lost within their squelching depths.
Rita's overall reaction was a combination of nausea, shock, and utter amazement—and a predominant turmoil of mounting lust. Dazed with drugs and whisky, ravaged by conflicting emotions and hot waves of primeval passion, she watched the incredible panorama, aware of Pearl standing over her, perched on a chair with one leg raised, inviting Rita to kiss her small, tight cunt and voicing angry protest when the younger girl ignored her.
Amid all the confusion and torrid acts Alistair Cromer presided over vulgar rituals involving initiates to the cult, mostly young girls. Nude women chased naked men and youths around the vault, lashing them with long whips and shrieking with laughter when they were themselves grabbed and fucked. Rita wondered when it came her turn, what would be involved. She reveled in the sex, but harbored doubts and fears that increased as the orgy continued. Her mind was still clouded and everything around her seemed unreal. She was sexually aroused and tremendously excited, but only partly influenced by the madness sweeping that dismal grotto and the capering, fornicating occupants.
Suddenly, Alistair Cromer loomed up on the dais, tall and satanic, arms raised. The force of his personality quieted even that squalid commotion. Couples twisted apart, squirmed erect to listen. Alistair pointed, indicating Rita.
"It is almost time," he shouted. "But before we make the blood sacrifice to the Prince of Darkness we must fulfill the final initiation of Pearl's young friend. A pleasant function it will be my privilege to perform. Bring her. Do not be afraid, my dear. Fear is only in the mind. There is no fear in a good stiff prick."
Hands clawed at Rita. She was hoisted up and borne toward the stone altar, laid on it and held firmly. The white robe was removed. The tumult subsided as Alistair leaned over her, smirking, protruding eyes glittering. The music began again. Amid impatient mutterings Cromer shed the black robe and revealed a standing penis of incredible size. Rita did not resist. She was no longer afraid, merely defiant, arrogantly self-confident, passively awaiting whatever Cromer contemplated. Grinning lechers held her arms and legs, but she had no desire to escape. If "initiation" involved nothing more alarming than the intrusion of an exceptionally large prick. She could stand all Cromer could screw into her, and enjoy it every bit as much as he did.
A handsome, voluptuous woman whose mature tits contrasted whitely with the golden tan of her torso and limbs, even her alluring bottom, extended a manicured hand and grasped Alistair's formidable penis. She squeezed its ponderous mass, jerked the foreskin rapidly back and forth, stimulating the torrid branch to maximum erection, and when it pulsed with throbbing power she crouched and licked the swollen knob along the potent shaft, persisting until the rigid prick jutted like a gnarled stump, iron-hard, a proudly beating symbol of unusual sexual endowment.
Abruptly the girl was dragged from her carnal function and withdrew into the shadows. Alistair Cromer lay on the draped platform, a gaunt caricature of a man with a giant's penis. Rita was lifted, supported with strong hands under her armpits and the backs of her thighs, held with her bottom almost touching the platform and her vagina protruding, exposed and vulnerable. She laughed and protested simultaneously, wantonly obsessed, every physical sense intensified, her whole body aflame with desire. Hot waves of lust clashed with outraged dignity and the lingering dregs of girlish modesty. She resented being used, of being made a spectacle before that gloating assembly, yet while her mind rejected degradation her body cried out for fulfillment. She was raised higher, poised above Alistair's jerking cock, then slowly lowered.
A low chanting commenced as the distended organ approached her splayed vagina. The questing knob butted her quim, gouging relentlessly, and Rita thrashed about wildly, writhing as the torrid roll entered and was forced high into her stretching twat as the weight of her descending body rammed it solidly past the puckered lips. Like a boring drill it screwed deeper, bursting tremendously into the cruelly distended channel, searing, tearing, filling the entire cringing cleft and expanding it agonizingly until waves of stabbing pain cramped Rita's belly and the taut skin vibrated like a drumhead.
Her arsehole protruded, straining outward, and her legs jerked violently within the restraining hold of clutching fingers. Then, quite suddenly, the frightful friction lessened and her passage yielded, abruptly accommodating the impaling prick and compensating for the initial discomfort with recurring spasms of rapturous delight, and as she jogged up and down, lifted and then lowered, each descent created an additional flow of lubricating juices that soothed her enormously expanded cunt and increased her pleasure. The bloated shaft slogged into her slimy, reddened maw with loud sucking sounds, stroking deeper with every lunge. Now its churning rhythm was sheer ecstasy, poetry of carnal motion, and she moaned and writhed in abandoned bliss, panting, her vagina sucking in then being drawn out, the hairy folds puckering then elongating, her insides flaming and her joints aching. Each time her wet quim smacked soggily against Alistair's bony pelvis her arse cheeks were squashed and the dusky crack accentuated, coming together again when she was raised. She was taking the whole length of Cromer's great penis, and enjoying every Herculean stroke. On the next torrid descent she climaxed, indicating her triumphant fulfillment with profound sighing and convulsive tremors; almost immediately she was racked by a second equally demoralizing orgasm.
Alistair's gaunt frame quivered with tension. His climax was close and he bucked his loins vigorously upward, acutely conscious of the significant wetness round his prick. The spurting flood that finally spat into the hot haven of Rita's relaxing vagina oozed back round his tool and seeped into his pubic hair and round his balls, some of it sliding down the crack of his bottom and spotting the black carpet.
A concerted groan of approval and lewd excitement arose from the jostling watchers. Rita was lifted off Cromer's cock and laid belly down on the altar, her legs roughly parted. A younger man sprang onto the platform the moment Alistair vacated it. Groping hands spread the cheeks of Rita's bottom wide. A hard finger probed into her anus, to be quickly replaced by an equally hard prick that was slippery with jelly. The frantic knob forced an entry past the tight rim of the girl's arsehole and penetrated several inches up her rectum in a single savage thrust, so abruptly and violently that it was deeply embedded before pain registered on Rita's confused senses and she reacted with a sharp scream. But the fat prick was inside her and driving solidly up her hole, and she could only writhe helplessly in the grip of strong hands, her lips curling back from her clenched teeth as the hot agony persisted. Then milky semen jetted into the aching pit and the pain eased, terminated altogether when the buggering tool was pulled from her brown, squashy anus like a cork from a bottle neck, trailing sperm across her shuddering arse.
The youth left her, and the conclusion of his brief assault coincided with another clamoring orgy. The whole assembly went berserk, yelling and squealing, grabbing one another, mauling, wrestling, rolling on the stone floor, fucking in pairs, in groups. All over the musty grotto naked figures fornicated, grunting, groaning, sobbing, flopping about, laughing, cursing, heaving, sweating, sucking, whanking, coming or striving to come—the virile few, the impotent many, and the mediocre core laboring and fucking resolutely in a weird variety of positions.
Rita, caught up in the carnal frenzy, was fucked by three different males in as many minutes, one prick after another stabbing into her sodden, slimy fissure, others seeking her mouth, chafing between her tits, daubing sperm all over her, even in her hair. Throughout the eerie vault mindless morons indulged their perverted lust. Pearl lay in a corner with a lovely girl with golden hair. Their faces were hidden, crushed into creamy flesh.
Rita, taking advantage of a momentary respite, crawled into an alcove and slumped against the wall. She was shattered, bushed and sore and anxious to get the hell out of there, away from the noise and the smells and the confusion. Sex was great, but-dear God! There was a limit, and she had reached hers.
She clambered to her feet, managed to salvage the white robe they had torn from her, and started toward the door. The key was in the lock, and she got the door open, strenuously resisting clutching hands. She lurched through the burial vault and reached the outer door, but as she tugged it wide the shrill blast from a police whistle sounded with startling clarity from close-by. Other whistles blared. Rita glimpsed blue uniformed figures moving furtively through the shrubbery.
She ran, plunging blindly into the dense bushes, away from the shimmering moonlight. Behind her, yells of alarm sounded. The significance of the whistle blasts had penetrated even into the remote innermost vault. Instant panic gripped the naked, intoxicated horde. Hoarse cries of desperation echoed hollowly. Stumbling figures blundered from the outer doorway and fled as car headlights suddenly beamed across the graveled drive. Jostling groups scattered, others milled around in blind hysteria. A few reached their cars and drove recklessly toward freedom—until they encountered police vehicles blocking the gateway.
Rita made it to the road, scrambled through a gap in the high fence, and hid in a ditch, acutely aware of the fact that her only covering was the torn robe.