Tombstone (9 page)

Sandy felt a finger sluicing through her dripping folds, and she managed to shuffle slightly back into the hand.
 
Mmm.
 
Oh yes.
 
Oh yes, like that.

The hand stopped stroking and man said, “Take care of sis and I’ll take care of you.”
 
His hand caressed her bottom and she moaned again.

Sandy had never felt so aroused.
 
She was certain she would go insane if she could not climax.
 
Pleasure.
 
I’m Pleasure.
 
They’re not going to hurt me.
 
She forgot about the agony her deceitful friend would be suffering.
 
Annika had, after all, gotten them into this mess.
 
She reached the tip of her tongue out to the spread pussy in front of her, and she heard the woman say, “That’s more like it.”
 
Her nipple was pinched gently and Sandy shivered in her suit.

The man behind stroked her wet slit until she thought she would go mad.
 
He stopped when he felt her close to climax, and finally plunged his cock inside her gripping core.
 
Her muscles clenched frantically, yearning to thrust into him and relieve the constant irritation from the balm.

“Damn, dad.
 
Have you tried these?” the man grunted out, plunging deep into Pleasure while she closed her eyes and obediently tended to his sister with her tongue.
 
All she had to do was keep lapping, and the wonderful cock kept filling her.

“No.
 
That one is for pleasure, and I’m not certain I can control my anger with her friend.
 
The other one…” Jonathan sighed.
 
“It isn’t a good idea for me to use them right now.”

“Hey, George, bring her over here.”

Sandy felt her pussy vacated and her tongue swirling in the air.
 
She blinked in surprise when someone reached under her breasts and lifted her.
 
A young man sat on an ottoman with his legs spread and his thick rod sticking out of his pants.
 
Sandy’s eyes narrowed on his cock and disregarded his face completely.
 
“Damn.
 
She’s dripping on the carpet,” he laughed.
 
“Turn her around and you two can get back to business.”

Sandy watched George drop to his knees, and his cock refilled her pussy.
 
She tried to smile, but her vision was blocked by the split lips of the woman’s crotch again.
 
The cock stopped thrusting, and she sighed and stuck out her tongue.
 
She felt herself lifted, and she panicked when she realized the man behind her intended to imbed his cock into her bottom.
 
She looked up at the woman with pleading eyes.

“Careful, Artie.
 
This one is Pleasure,” Nancy reminded her little brother.
 
She stroked the girl’s hair.
 
Oh, she’s just too precious.
 
The slanted brown eyes looked up in gratitude.

Sandy felt a finger stroke through her juices and worm into her bottom.
 
She gripped convulsively at the intrusion.
 
“Easy, Pleasure,” the man whispered.

Sandy tried to concentrate on the cock in her pussy and her attention to the sister.
 
She was terrified.
 
Unlike Annika, she had not been used this way.
 
The burning itch of the balm coated inside her, and she clasped around a second finger.
 
“Ease up, little girl.
 
That’s right.”
 
The fingers began to plunge gently, and felt sort of good.
 
“That’s right.
 
You keep yourself nice and relaxed like this, and it will only hurt for a second.”
 
He felt her stiffen again.
 
“Loosen up, girl.”

Sandy tried, and she felt the soft helmet of his cock press persistently at her star.
 
She looked up at the woman again.
 
“He won’t hurt you.
 
You’ll hurt yourself if you don’t relax.”
 
Nancy reveled in the touch of the tongue quivering against her slit.
 
She would be visiting daddy much more often.

Slowly she was lowered onto the shaft.
 
Sandy had not realized the thrusting cock in her pussy had remained motionless while she was imbedded with the second rod.
 
When she was resting in his lap, George began plunging again.
 
Artie wrapped his arms around her and caressed her breasts.
 
The balm in her bottom made her muscles roll against the soft flesh to alleviate the itching.

“Why doesn’t the balm affect us?” Nancy asked curiously.

“According to Tombstone, it does to a point.
 
It’s just that they’ve been kept sexually aroused with the rest of their senses denied to them, so what to us is a minor aggravation presents extreme results when applied to the Twins.
 
How’s Pleasure?”

Nancy looked down into the dazed eyes, euphorically squeezing her belly against the embedded cocks and lavishing her clit with her tongue.
 
“She’s fine.”
 
Nancy looked towards the other twin and she smiled.
 
“Pain doesn’t look like she’s enjoying herself.”

Across the room, Annika was in a squatting position on an end table and the twin brothers were taking turns caning her nipples, her spread pussy, and her ass.
 
There were red welts raised all over the wailing girl.
 
Annika felt as though her body was on fire as slash after slash of the thin reed left its mark.
 
Still, her pussy gripped in emptiness, dripping juice onto the polished surface below her.
 
I’m sorrrry.
 
Please.
 
I’m sooo sorrrry.

The first orgasm hit Sandy like a freight train, and by the time they were through the twins were exhausted and lying on their sides, dripping with sweat that was beading through the pores of their suits to the surface.

Four nights a week were ‘family’ nights, though all of the children began to visit their father on a more regular basis.
 
Hannah and Duke also made sure to earn payment for maintaining Jonathan Bentley’s new erotic twins.

CHAPTER IV

Valentine’s day was a special celebration at the club, though Tombstone was always edgy.
 
He had picked the day at random, or so he thought.
 
Teresa, Sabrina, and Jude knew it was something else.
 
They were the only people working at the club who had met Tombstone, when he was still Jerald Fry.
 
By the time the three other Room Fives working at the private club had met him, he had been introduced as Tombstone.

Valentine’s Day was the anniversary of Susanne’s murder, and some little spark of Jerald Fry had come to the surface in Tombstone’s shattered mind to acknowledge the occasion as a special event at the club.

Gertie kept in touch with Jude, checking on the man that used to be the little boy who loved to blow out her matches.
 
He was gone now, but Gertie still needed to make sure that he was all right, even if he lived in a state of delirium.
 
She blamed herself for not seeing it happening, and shuddered at some of the things Jude told her.
 
In a way, Gertie understood.
 
She also knew that Jerry would not, and although he knew that his son was broken, Gertie never told him how badly.

Jude was driving to Donald’s to transport Claudine.
 
He still had to pick up the twins from Jonathan.
 
His phone jingled and he flipped it open.
 
“Yeah?”

“Jude, it’s Gertie.”

“Hey, Gertie.
 
How ya’ doing?”

“I’m… I’m fine, Jude.
 
How is Jerald?”

Jude chuckled.
 
“Jerald ain’t here, Gertie.
 
Tombstone’s doing fine, though.
 
Business is booming, and all.
 
Did you get the flowers we sent?”

“Yes.
 
Thank the girls for me.
 
I put them on Susanne’s grave this evening.
 
It’s when Jerald and I used to place them.”

“How’s Jerry?”

“He’s good.
 
He’s retiring in August, but he’s worked out a deal to keep the house.
 
The replacement doesn’t want to live on the graveyard grounds, so they’re letting us stay here for free.
 
Jerry’s going to act as security and do a little pickup on the lawns.”

“I hear something in your voice, Gertie.
 
If it’s not Jerry, what’s up?”
 
Jude listened to silence, and for a moment he thought she had hung up.

“I wasn’t sure if I should say anything, and then I wondered if it might help.”

“I don’t have time for twenty questions, Gertie.
 
You know this is the night of Tombstone’s party, and I’m picking up deliveries.”

“Susanne’s marker was defiled.
 
There were horrible things spray painted all over her headstone.”
 
Gertie began to cry.
 
“Jerry got it off, but he’s still out there polishing the stone… and he might have to re-etch new designs to cover a few places.
 
While he was out there, I looked at the security tape.
 
I erased it so that Jerry wouldn’t see it.”
 
Gertie was silent for a long while again, and then she said, “It was Bethany Wilson’s daughter.
 
I guess she was two or three when Bethany killed Susanne, and she blames Susanne for her mother going to prison.
 
Bethany died several years ago and her daughter’s picture was in the paper I cut it out, and even though she’s older, it was easy to recognize her.”

“Fuuck meee.”
 
Jude whistled.

“Yeah, well, I figured you’d know better than I would if Jerald should be told.”

“Hell, Gertie, I don’t even know if Tombstone would recognize the name.
 
The bitch deserves something for what she did to him, and if he can’t have the mother, the kid might do.
 
Sounds like she deserves it.”
 
Jude’s mind raced.
 
“You know, he dreams about Jerald.
 
He told me once, because I guess he read someplace that if he repeated the dream to someone, it would go away.
 
He said it didn’t work.
 
He knows
about
Jerald, he just doesn’t know that he
is
Jerald.”
 
Jude ran his fingers through his cropped curls.
 
“I think he’d take a serious dive if he did.”

“Well, I just thought you should know.”

Jude heard the relief in her voice.
 
Gertie did not want to deal with it, but she also did not want to hide the information.
 
“Thanks for dumping it in my lap, Gertie,” he chuckled.

Gertie smiled.
 
“Happy ‘V’ Day, and have a nice party.”

“Happy ‘V’ Day to you and Jerry.
 
I’ll figure out what to do about Bethany‘s kid.”

“Thanks, Jude.
 
Hug the ‘Fives’ for me.”

“Will do.”

Jude pulled into Donald’s driveway.
 
The members knew some of Tombstone’s past, but as everyone involved could be held accountable for the mannequins, no one questioned too deeply.
 
Except for Donald Strickland.
 
He had hounded Jude and Sabrina when he had them over for dinner.
 
Jude rang the bell and looked up the three stories of the mansion, and then out onto the expansive lawns.
 
The door opened and Donald ushered him in.

Claudine’s casket was belted to a dolly, waiting in the foyer.
 
“Mr. Strickland, mind if we have a quick drink?”

Donald arched a questioning brow and led him to the lounge.
 
Jude explained the conversation with Gertie.
 
“I don’t want to fuck him up by telling him, but shit, if anyone deserves the right to work a display…”

“He associates today as a special event, even though he doesn’t know why.
 
How old is the young woman?”
 
Donald was staring at Claudine’s casket, lost in thoughts of how Jude’s information should be used.

“Let’s see.
 
Jerald was ten, and Gertie said the girl was two or three.
 
That would make her mid-twenties,” Jude guessed.

“At that age, if she’s fucking around in a graveyard, I doubt she’s got a sterling reputation,” Donald replied.
 
He leaned back and narrowed his eyes in concentration.
 
“Every one of the mannequins he creates is an attempt to avenge his mother.
 
If he had someone so closely connected, his creation would be personal.
 
I think Jerald might meld with his Tombstone persona.
 
Frankly, Jude, this could be a good thing.
 
It’s a little worrisome knowing that my future is held in the hands of the unstable split of his mind.”

“So, you think we should tell him?”
 
Jude sipped his drink.
 
“I just don’t want to fuck up the good thing we’ve got going.”

Donald gazed at the casket in the foyer and he envisioned the rubber suited creature inside, squirming and dripping from the vibrator he had lodged in her pussy.
 
“Neither do I, Jude.
 
Neither do I.”

When Claudine had first been delivered, Donald was amazed.
 
He had seen the results of Tombstone’s work, but to actually own a mannequin was much more than he had anticipated.
 
The extra he had paid for the repositioning compound was most definitely worth it.

The girl had panicked when Tombstone and Jude left her alone with him.
 
Donald could see the fear in her eyes.
 
He stood her in the center of his living room with her legs spread and her arms held wide over her head.
 
The rubber X did not move for the thirty minutes he studied her, sipping his drink and scrutinizing her lovely form.

Naturally, she had to be punished for the fatal path she had led his son down.
 
Even so, from the first time he had seen her, Donald was determined to keep her.
 
On
his
terms of course, and stripping her of the ability to consider him another mark to play her games.
 
Tombstone’s specialty appealed to him, keeping her forever imprisoned yet available to him.
 
Eventually, she would probably have to be moved as a display for the club, but he was content with the access he would have to her.

Claudine recognized the desire in his eyes, but she found it confusing.
 
Although the costume certainly advertised her sexual availability, the few times she had seen herself, she had found the image alarming.
 
Tombstone had taken great care with the outfit, wrapping the spiral copper striations around the black, accenting her slim waist and becoming almost vertical down her legs.

Donald rose and approached her with a thin cane he had sitting by his chair.
 
Claudine eyed him nervously and she began leaking tears.
 
Oh, god.
 
Please Donald.
 
Please let me go.
 
His arm swung so quickly she heard the slap of the cane, but it was still several seconds before she felt the burning sting on her breasts just at the top of her areolas.
 
Claudine shrieked through her open mouth.
 
The next swipe hit the hardened tips of her nipples, and she wailed while Donald smiled at her.

He laid the cane down and plucked an ice cube out of his drink.
 
Claudine whimpered while he rolled it across her burned nipples, until the pain numbed and the sensation began to arouse her.
 
“You are a passionate woman, so ready to respond to sins of the flesh.”
 
His voice was barely audible, as if he were talking to himself.

Donald lowered her arms to her sides and pushed her legs together.
 
It was amazing how the plastic held her rigidly fixed but was curiously warm to his touch.
 
He decided that if things worked out he might have Tombstone eventually make her a coating that was pliable and allowed her some movement.
 
Not for a while, though.
 
Not until she was dependent and responsive only to him.
 
It was at that moment, looking deep into the aroused amber eyes, that Donald decided to ask Tombstone to change his contract restrictions and let him keep his son’s wife.

Donald wrapped his arms under her chest and coaxed her legs forward until they were in back of his chair.
 
He bent her slightly forward and lowered his zipper.
 
She knew that he would find her wet.
 
She had been hungrily clasping her pussy since he had frozen her nipples.
 
Claudine prepared for his litany of insults, calling her the slut that she surely was.
 
Instead, he stroked through her juices and sighed.

She could almost feel his hands wrap around her hips, and she hissed when he entered her.
 
He thrust gently, in a rocking motion.
 
When Claudine began moaning she heard him chuckle softly.
 
“Such a hot thing, you are.”
 
He came quickly after he felt her climax, then reached his hands around to her breasts and raised her.

Donald did like whipping her breasts, but for the most part, Claudine remained by his side throughout the day being pampered in a strange way.
 
He personally washed her and fed her, stopping several times a day to thrust into one of her orifices but always making sure she had her own climax.
 
Sometimes, he made a game out of arousing her, trying to force her to break the rigid confines of the costume.
 
No matter how she struggled, shrieking with desire, the outfit never moved.

For the Valentine display he had pierced her nipples, and chains threaded with black onyx and amber hearts hung from them.
 
The seams at the top of her thighs had been relaxed slightly so she could take short, stiff steps.
 
It was the first freedom of movement he had returned to her, and Donald enjoyed her ambitious gratitude.

The Valentine Display at Tombstone’s club was a grandiose affair.
 
Donald watched Claudine’s fascinated stare at Jonathan’s erotic twins.
 
He had had collars embroidered with ‘Pleasure’ and ‘Pain’, though the terrified look on the black costumed twin’s face and the ecstasy scribed on the features of ‘Pleasure’ made the embroidery almost a mute, unnecessary endeavor.
 
Donald stroked the side of one breast and he whispered the story of what the irresponsible young women had done to Jonathan’s son.
 
He stroked the tears off the latex, beneath his mannequin’s eyes.
 
“You
see
, Claudine. Someday, you will understand
your
contribution to your circumstances.”

Claudine could feel the pain in the room, from all of the mannequin owners.
 
She felt calmed that Donald had turned out to be a rather kind to her, and nothing as chaotic as the family with the twins.
 
Currently, Pain was squatting immobile on her feet, crouching down while one son held her hips and plunged brutally into her little red bottom.
 
Purple bruised ridges of welts were visible across the tortured flesh.
 
Another son was thrusting with equal enthusiasm into her pussy, while still another gripped the sides of her mask and his cock disappeared down her throat.
 
Claudine could not imagine having three men take her at once, and yet the little pixie’s bottom clenched and her throat swallowed as if she were insanely aroused.