26
They had to wait for the rest of the men to show up. Trifford had called
them, both because he wanted all of them to be in on it, and because he thought
they'd enjoy it. Joyce was kept in the bedroom, where she'd been since Avery had
arrived.
They had tied Avery into a chair, with his hands bound behind it, his
ankles tightly lashed to the rungs, and his body bound so that he was unable to
move. Lisa was in another chair, facing him, about six feet away. She was
similarly tied, except that her arms rested on the broad wooden arms of the
chair, and were bound to them tightly from elbow to wrist.
When everyone had arrived, Trifford arranged them so they stood well
behind Lisa's chair. He then placed a loaded gun in the girl's right hand.
Her bound wrist prevented her from turning her hand enough to aim at the
men behind her. But the gun pointed straight ahead at her brother.
"Any time you're ready, Lisa," Trifford said.
Avery was sweating and shaking. "No!" he choked out. "Don't--don't, for
god's sake! Lisa, you can't! No! No!"
A sudden gasp was heard from the hallway, and they all turned toward the
sound. Joyce was standing there, her startled eyes wide at the sight of the gun
in Lisa's hand.
"We told you to stay in the bedroom, goddamn it!" Kalinkos shouted at
her.
She shrank back. "I--I'm sorry. I was just--I heard--"
"Get the fuck out of here, you bitch!"
"Hold on," Trifford said. "As long as Joyce is here, she might as well
join the party. Joyce, this is Avery. He's Lisa's brother. Avery, this is Joyce.
Nice, isn't she?"
Avery, in spite of his predicament, was staring at Joyce with obvious
admiration mixed with suprise, his eyes avidly taking in the beautiful naked
body, the high firm breasts, the luscious legs.
"See, Joyce, we're having a little going-away party for Avery here. He
was just about to leave us, but since you've crashed the party, I think we'll
let you give him a nice sexy farewell present. Would you like that, Avery?"
Avery couldn't answer.
"Sure you would. Joyce, why don't you go over there and give him a good
send-off. Use that talented mouth of yours. Oh, don't worry about the gun.
Lisa's not going to shoot you. Unless I tell her to." His voice was suddenly
harder. "Go on, Joyce. Suck him off."
Joyce's face was red. She took a long, uneven breath, and drew herself
up, as if preparing herself for what she had to do. Then she walked, somewhat
stiffly, toward Avery's chair. She did not look at him. She stood in front of
him for a long moment, then slowly went down to her knees.
Her movements were almost mechanical as her hands went to the front of
his trousers and pulled down his zipper. Her fingers sought and then pulled out
his mostly flaccid penis.
"Poor Avery is a little frightened," Trifford said mockingly. "You're
going to have to work on him a little to get him going. But I know that if
anybody can do it, you can. Right, Joyce?"
Joyce worked on him. She kissed him and licked him and caressed him with
her soft lips, and before long Avery was hard in spite of his lingering fear.
Joyce took him into her mouth, and, under the gazes of her seven captors, as
well as the naked girl with the gun, she used all the skill she had to bring him
to climax. It took a long time, but she did it, sucking him unceasingly, varying
her tempo, using her tongue and her throat and her warm, soft breath, until at
last Avery stiffened in his bonds and gave a loud groan as he exploded
repeatedly into her mouth.
She didn't have to be told to swallow it all. They always loved to see
her do that.
"Very good, Joyce," Trifford said. "You can go back in the bedroom now.
Close the door, and stay there until we call you."
Joyce went.
"See, Avery?" Trifford said. "We're not such bad guys, after all. Now
we've wasted enough time. All right, Lisa. Shoot him."
"Christ!" Avery tried to struggle. He started to sweat again. His cock
still hung ridiculously from his fly. "Please. Don't. I--I won't tell anything,
I swear! Please!"
"Do it, Lisa."
Lisa was almost as pale as her brother. The hand that held the gun was
shaking. "I-I can't," she whimpered. "I-I can't do it. I can't."
Trifford sighed. "Remember those needles, Lisa? The ones you told us
about, that your brother and his friend stuck into you? Remember how painful
that was? Think about that. Shoot him."
"Please... I can't... I can't..."
"Well, guess what, Lisa," Trifford said. "We found those needles in
David's pocket when we... sent him away. He must have carried them around with
him all the time. And I just happen to have them here." He took the little case
containing the needles from his pocket.
Lisa gasped sharply.
Trifford selected two needles from the case and put it away. Then,
holding one of the needles in each hand, he stepped up behind the bound girl's
chair. Reaching around her body with both hands, he carefully held the needles
against the sides of her naked breasts, their sharp tips just denting the tender
flesh.
The girl gave a frightened moan. "Don't..." she begged piteously. "Oh,
please... don't..."
"Think about the needles," Trifford said softly, pressing just a little
harder against the soft skin. "How much they hurt. How Avery liked it. Shoot
him."
"I--oh, god... please..."
"Think about how you screamed," Trifford said. "Screamed and begged and
pleaded with them. And how they laughed. Shoot him."
"I--"
Trifford pushed the needles into her flesh. She screamed, and shot. The
bullet smashed into Avery's chest. He jerked sharply and slumped in the chair.
"Again," Trifford said, and pushed the needles further in.
"OH GOD, STOP!" She shot again. This one caught Avery in the face. She
shrieked with both pain and horror.
"Again," Trifford said, pushing harder.
Lisa emptied the gun into her brother's body.
"Good girl," Trifford said.
