“6 p.m.,” she agreed. “Thank you, Miles.” He walked out closing the door behind him. She stands briefly in the middle of the room. She looks the outfits up and down, moving along the row from one end to the other and back again. She takes the lingerie on the end that he had referred to and took it off of the hanger. She turned to the full-body mirror and held it up to her body, cupping it snuggly under her breasts. She smiled and looked back at the rest of the outfits.
[Video cuts to static, then Chief Duggan again.]
“We cut tape there out of respect for the deceased. There is much that will be seen in the evening’s events, this part, however, was not meant to be filmed and believe it to be her rights to not show it, having deemed it not essential to the case. The next portion of the footage is taken at and around the dinner table. All of the victims recovered from the scene are in this footage. We believe it to be the only footage of all of them together.”
[Video cuts to multiple cameras shots and multiple vantage points of a large dining table that currently was seating 50 people. The long, rectangular table held 24 men to one side, 24 men to the other side, Miles Deacon at the head and Suzette Higgins at the far end. She was the only female in attendance. Indistinctive conversations overlap as Chief Duggan’s voice overlaps them all.]
“As far as we now know, Suzette Higgins was the only female on the entire grounds. No maids or servants, nor family, friends or acquaintances were on the grounds that were female either. This was strictly a one-pony show. They eat and converse for just around two hours, give or take, I won’t bore you with the details of this. None of it seems to be anything that even pertained to the evening’s incident. It would appear as if it wasn’t on the table for discussion until the time of the incident. The full, uncut editions of all of these videos are in the evidence department, should anyone care to go back over my work for any details I may have missed. I am only human after all. No offense will be taken should anyone decide to go this route. OK, so here we see Pedersen sitting at Deacon’s right hand. Here shortly he’s going to stand up and make a toast. Nothing remarkable. ‘Here’s to the night’s entertainment, the host with the most and the beautiful and dashing blah-blah-blah.’ A lot of applause and back-slapping, handshakes, cups clinking, staff brings in more wine and champagne. OK, we’re going to skip ahead again.”
[Video cuts to static, then to a large chamber found beneath the mansion. The chamber is in ruin and rubble. Blood, bodies everywhere, small fires and static sparking from wall outlets. Police officers are milling around with high-intensity flashlights and search dogs. Flashes can be seen going off from police evidence cameras and pieces of evidence are being picked up with gloved hands or tweezers and placed into small plastic bags. At first glance, the floor appears to be a black and red zig-zag pattern. None of the officers seem to notice anything in regards to the design. A few minutes flash by as the Chief’s voice says,]
“OK, we all remember this room. No one saw it at first. Officer (pauses to check notes) Willaby first discovered the floor graffiti. For any of you who didn’t make it down into The Dungeon—as Deacon called it—this is what we found.”
[Video pans out wide and shows multiple officers walking in all directions to get out of the shout as Officer Willaby shouts “Dear God!” The now-cleared floor reveals a pentagram done in blood red coloring—determined to be paint with traces of goat blood by forensics—with various runes and occult symbols around the outer edges of the circle. Inside the circle were—what was later determined to be—the initials of every individual present that night, including Pedersen and Deacon himself. All camera flashes are now trained solely on this new discovery.]
“The pentagram that was discovered in the dungeon was located just beneath The Cradle. ‘The Cradle’ is the name Deacon gave to the cushioned altar that Suzette was essentially murdered on and also where she was assaulted sexually by 47 men. All of the men at the table, not including Pedersen and Deacon. They arranged, but never partook. The Cradle found in the garage bay on top of a very expensive and very old Porsche 356 C Coupe. It had been demolished naturally. The Cradle was brought back here for further studies. There had also been an unusual rug or mat covering the spot where the pentagram was discovered. It had many holes purposely cut into it allowing fluids to pass through. That’s our guess so far anyway. The rest of The Dungeon is pretty well destroyed, as you can see from the footage. OK, here we go. This next section of footage is the final preparation and the act itself. I know many of you have seen terrible things in your line of profession, but this is degradation at its lowest. It may be hard at certain times, but I need you to try to keep all eyes front. What you are about to witness is humanity’s obscenities at their worst.”
[Video cuts to The Dungeon, now fully intact and like new. Men are scurrying about setting up lighting—mostly in the form of black or red candles—and draping black silky curtains all around the back ground. A small crew of three are setting up additional cameras. The men that will be performing are walking side to side in the shot in small black thong men’s bikinis and black leather face masks and nothing else. They are manually preparing themselves—and occasionally each other—sexually. Four large arms protrude in an X fashion from The Cradle. Two are for Suzette’s arms, two for her legs. There are thick leather straps dangling from each extension. Camera right: Deacon and Pedersen enter the room with Suzette in between them. She is in a red plush robe.]
“Now, don’t you worry about a thing, my dear. Mr. Pedersen here has made every preparation for a safe and fun experience for you. You have the safe word, yes?”
“Yes,” she nodded and said. “I’m not scared Mr. Deacon. It’s all a bit much, but I’m ready for anything.” He smiled at her and then sardonically at Villads Pedersen. They walked into the center of the room and Suzette continued a few steps further to The Cradle. She stopped and placed a hand nervously on the cushioned surface. Everything around her was either black or blood red, but it was clear that the only thing that gave her pause about the room was The Cradle, the appendages and the leather straps dangling limply. She turned back to the men, staring at her like frozen statues (even holding their breath), and said to them, “OK, gentlemen, I’m ready to be a millionaire.” She smiled seductively and at the same time, she gave off an equal measure of nerves that were nearly shot.
“That is so very good to hear, mien angel.” Pedersen said lowly and placed a big, firm hand gently on her shoulder. “Maybe when this is all over, we go someplace and maybe get more acquainted in a friendly way, yes?” He smiled genuinely at her, but saw the rejection in her eyes.
“Thank you, Mr. Pedersen. That would be nice. But when we get done here, I think I’m going to curl up in a nice hot bath with about three bottles of burgundy wine next to me. Maybe after that we could…” He cut her off sharply.
“Ya, maybe we could. Miles, you have it from here. I’m going up to the balcony. Good day, Miss Higgins. I do so hope you enjoy the festivities.” He turned abruptly and stormed off. A few minutes later, she turned to scan the room and looked up at a large blackened observation window twenty or so feet up from the floor. She obviously couldn’t see his face based on her squinting expression, but looked as if she knew his eyes were upon her. She went back to looking around the room at the set-up. Miles put a gentle hand on her lower arm and the other he held out toward The Cradle.
“Are you ready, my dear?” He had the look of a kid who hit the jackpot Christmas morning. She was led up to the altar and almost shyly began to undo the robe tie. She gave one last look around before letting the very comfortable, very concealing robe fall to the floor. Her now entirely nude body was on display for all to see, both in the video and the police station. All eyes fell upon her as she continued up the two steps to The Cradle. She turned to face the observation window. Miles Deacon said, “Now I must leave, my sweet girl. I must go take my place in the balcony. You are in very good hands here. You will be most safe. So, it is showtime, yes? Yes.”
He said, clapping his hands together and walking away. She stood up on the platform alone for a moment before one of the men in masks and leather undies came to her. The stark relief of her nude body versus the black and red backdrop made her look extremely pale.
She got onto the altar side saddle and spun her body up and over so she was lying flat on the table. Four men—as if choreographed—came from each direction in unison to gently grab a limb and place it in its perspective appendage. The leather straps that dangled were taken with great care and placed over the wrists and ankles. They were padded inside with some very comfortable cloth. They were snugged down and—to her surprise—padlocked into place. She didn’t panic though. She’d been through the whole bondage, S&M, Dom and Sub routine a million times with past guys. Especially the year and half she worked the streets. The johns out there wanted a little taste of everything and she usually provided for them…for a large fee, of course. The whole dungeon routine? Well…that was just a little extra baggage that came along with being rich. She’d never had anything to do with rich men in her profession, but she had heard stories from other girls. And if this rich guy was willing to pay 2 mil for a handful of guys to turn her vagina into a bowl of clam chowder…she was willing and ready. She broke out of her thoughts, looked up at the guy standing over her and nodded. He held up a smaller version of his own leather mask in her direction. Again, she nodded. He slid it slowly and carefully over her blonde hair, not braided in this footage—rather it was pinned back to her head with bobby pins. He slides the mask all the way on and she becomes—albeit a bit late—completely anonymous.
She was now masked and strapped to The Cradle and the four men at each ends of the table work a few locks on the sides of the table and the four appendages are spread out to the maximum limit and stretched as far as Suzette can accommodate. Her B-cup breasts point up to the ceiling and her vagina, which has been freshly shaven as per request by management, is as open as it has ever been. A new apparatus is brought into view and is slowly and almost loving inserted into her vaginal opening and spread wide. This is a smooth steel speculum inserted vaginally and propped open to allow for a gaping effect. This is commonly used in S&M and even in bondage and was nothing the men and women watching had never seen before. Especially the women. It looked much like a modified version of the “duck bills” they experienced at a gynecological exam. Many of the men—and soon all of them—were now fully nude except for the masks. They walked around and took a spot each in a circle around The Cradle with their erect cocks pointing directly at Suzette. She could see through the eye holes in the masks, but made no struggle or attempt to get away. It was a fair assumption at this point in the footage that she was still on board with this happening. And happen it did.
A shrill klaxon went off and a voice came over a loud speaker. It spoke in a very foreign tongue that no one present in the division could translate. This went on for about three minutes and then fell silent. The first of the 47 men stepped up to The Cradle. He was stroking himself and was achieving an average-sized erection. Nothing very John Holmes about him. He took his place between Suzette’s parted legs and the camera angle changed. Through the course of the footage, it changed many times. In a report, it had been stated that Miles Deacon had some two hundred and fifteen cameras in total on the grounds and in the house. The angle now sees the first man slide easily into Suzette. She accommodates him with no effort. The expression on her face doesn’t even change as the man begins to speed up and deepen his thrusts. After a couple of minutes, she begins to show signs. Her eyes begin to flutter open and closed from inside the mask and her head falls back onto the cushioned table in acceptance and maybe a little pleasure.
The first man gives a few more thrusting jabs, then drives deeply into her and hold himself there as he presumably finishes. He takes just a brief moment there, then slides limply out of Suzette. The Cradle has been designed so that her vagina is not only spread wide open and easier for access, but so that it will contain the seed spilled inside rather than letting it run down her thighs. The second man steps forward. He is noticeably bigger. Each man, one by one, stops to point his manhood at Suzette’s face before entering her. Maybe to show her what she’s in for, give her a little scare. Suzette looks at this next penis in front of her and everyone in the department watching can’t help but giggle a little as a smile creeps across Suzette’s face. The smile saying: this isn’t going to be so bad after all. The smile saying: bring it on, cowboy! The man takes his place between her legs and rubs himself along Suzette’s clitoris briefly, then enters her and commences to go deep and hard. Suzette’s eyes roll back in her head as her whole body stiffens from the pleasure.
At various points in the footage, she gives out cries of pleasure that embarrass some of the female officers and excite some of the men. She is obviously in ecstasy. The men have been arranged in such a way as that the smallest individual—who looked like he measured in at roughly 6 inches—went first. The last man to go, nearly an hour and half later, was a monster. He had to be 12 or 13 inches at least, guessed the officers. By the time the mammoth member was in front of Suzette, she was showing signs of not only wearing out, but excessive dehydration and over-exertion in extremis. She could no longer lift her own head. Her nude body lay without the ability to tense up or move, partly due to the constraints, mostly it appeared due to the exhaustion. She was beyond the shade of pale she was at the beginning. He inserted without tenderness and drove into her harder than any of the previous men. She weakly writhed on the table. This is the point in the video where the officers watching could no longer tell if she was enjoying herself or just wanted out. He gave off a sense that he was trying to hurt her, trying to push her that one step beyond the last step.
He wouldn’t stop. He kept on, hammering at her, pounding her, hate-fucking her. Not at any point did Suzette mutter the safe word. Not sure she could at this point if she wanted to. The safe word—as it was understood—called off the whole deal and this far into it, they assumed she was going to finish what she started so it had all not been for nothing. He pounded her and showed no signs of slowing. The soupy mix of men’s semen collected on and around her vagina was turning pink now. Certain angled cameras were set on extreme close up and were crystal clear hi-def. The pink milky mix inevitably turned red and with a monstrous groan, the final man thrust into her and held himself there. Below the black mask, thick cords stood out in his neck and his muscles were strained to their breaking point. He began to ease and finally to relax. He pulled out, still very much erect and throbbing with big blue veins curving around the head of his cock. The other men still stood in a slightly less-erect circle around them chanting in a low mundane tone. The final man took his place in the circle and joined them.
They continued the chanting and raised their heads and hands as they did so. The next thing was so violent and graphic that one officer actually threw up in the conference room. Suzette was lying motionless and utterly still on The Cradle. Seeming to be dead to the world. Her body began to seize and buck. All of her muscles tensed up at once and her back raised and arched off of the table. Still strapped in and spread to the four points of the compass, she resembled a tarp or tent tied down and trying to lift up into the rising winds. A shriek of immense terror and/or pain began to cut through the chanting, although the chanting continued. The men chanting began to look toward her though in what appeared to be an uneasy fashion. Perhaps they had gotten more than they had bargained for also. She screamed one long piercing note that seemed to have no end. Struggling and fighting with her bindings, The Cradle unmoving stood firm. The appendages began to shake and rattle in their moorings as she seemed to have the strength of a mule. The scream continued as the masked woman looked down in the direction of her vagina. The thick soupy red pool of semen had begun to draw inward—into her. Everyone watched as the pool was sucked inside. The chanting began to be mumbled and broken in parts as the men’s full attention was now on the shrieking woman. The la
st man to have her, a large Schwarzenegger-type stood firm, chanting, but even his attention was being drawn down to her lower body. Her knees were trying to come together to hold in or muffle the pain apparently when a wind of unknown and impossible origin blew The Dungeon’s doors open, banging them hard against the wall.
The circle broke apart and the chanting stopped. The semi-circle of men looked away from the woman—still screaming in obvious pain—toward the doors. Ghostly ghastly light began flooding in and all around. Red glowing searing heat carried on winds scented of plague and death filled their nostrils as some began to hold their noses. There came from the men a low muttering of confusion and fear. They backed away a few steps from The Cradle as a titanic roar issued forth from nowhere…everywhere…down. Their gazes—like the gazes of all the stunned officers—fell back onto the pubic area of Suzette. Still fighting her bonds, she had begun to puke up blood and black bile, but what caught their attention was the one piss of blood that squirted out of her vaginal opening and left a fan-tailed spray ten feet across the floor. An expectant hush fell across the room, even the girl had begun to weaken and fall silent. A loud gurgling rumble—like that of the hungry belly of the giant from jack’s beanstalk—came from within Suzette and the demonic red-scaled arm burst upward from out of her vagina. It stayed there a moment, upright and the fingers on the hand extended and reaching as if toward Heaven itself. The blood from the girl and the milky mix from the men trailed its way down the three-foot arm and pooled back onto the remains of Suzette’s lower body. She gave one last attempt to lean her head up to look in a weary half-drunken way, then the second hand and arm shot up beside the first. It was equal in size and might, both extremely thick, muscular arms. Red and scaly as the first, the two were pointing upward, as if to indicate the field goal was good. The two hands came back down toward Suzette’s legs. They grabbed one knee each and the result was gruesome and unforgettable to all who witnessed. Like a wishbone at Thanksgiving, the hands—or claws to be more accurate—pushed apart on the girl’s legs until they ripped her lower body jaggedly in half at the precise moment when the thing’s large slime-dripping head protruded from the ruins of Suzette. She lay still and very dead with blood covering her entire body as the thing crawled from within her. At that moment, the officer threw up in the conference room.
Individually Wrapped Horrors Page 25
