“Yeah, well …”
“I wish I had mine to do over again. From what I hear, you’re in for a real good time, Jack.”
“Yeah?”
“She spends a long time down there. Really loosens you up. If you know what I mean.”
The doorbell rang and Jack’s skin suddenly retreated from his body. He didn’t care how long this woman was planning to spend on his cock, the end result was going to be the same. And he found it unnerving that the woman who was going to be performing this ceremony had a title that rhymed with toilet.
Oral Mohalet Hadassah arrived with all the grace of Hurricane Andrew and without the finesse. Andrew probably left less destruction in his wake. At least Andrew didn’t steal your precious foreskin, rip it from your body like some Jewish ghoul.
“Hello, Jack,” she said, taking his limp wrist and crushing it between her palms. “No need to be nervous.”
“Welcome, Mohalet Hadassah,” Sarah said. “We’re thrilled to have you here. Your reputation precedes you.”
“How kind.” Mohalet Hadassah smiled, tight-lipped. Jack admitted the woman was attractive, but there was also something unsettling about her. Something not particularly feminine. It could have been her height, her baseball-mitt hands, her enormous feet.
“You look disturbed,” Mohalet Hadassah said.
“It’s nothing.” Jack pulled his hand away.
“Tell me. What is it?” Her lisp was ever so slight. Finally she smiled, and what she revealed seemed more mouth, more gaping hole, than teeth.
Jack shook his head. You look like a drag queen he wanted to blurt but thought better of it.
“Let’s get started then. So, Jack. What sort of cut would you like?”
“I have a choice? Something quick and painless.”
She laughed. “My personal favorite is the ‘beauty cut.’ Low and tight, though it causes the greatest loss of erogenous tissue.”
“Jesus! I’m rather opposed to doing anything that causes loss of erogenous tissue. What else have you got?”
“I’ll perform a ‘loose’ circumcision then, okay?”
Jack’s lips were numb. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripped from his armpits. “This is all such a bad idea.”
“Not at all,” Mohalet Hadassah said, laying a rather large hand on Jack’s shoulder.
Jack was sorely tempted to squeeze her tits—to see if they were real. Not that he cared whether or not she was really a she, but he didn’t want some shemale messing with his cock.
“I brought along a circumstraint,” Mohalet Hadassah said, looking at Alex. “Do you think we’ll need it?”
“Wow. They make those for adults?”
“No, actually. Not really. This one is … homemade.”
“What the hell’s a circumstraint?” Jack asked.
“A device used during circumcisions. Normally used to hold down … struggling babies,” the mohalet said.
“Oh God.” Jack collapsed on the sofa. “This is a bad idea. Very bad. Very, very bad.”
Mohalet Hadassah straddled him, pressed her crotch against his, ground into him. He was relieved there wasn’t a dick pressing into him but was slightly alarmed when he started to get hard.
“Trust me,” she whispered into his ear, nibbling on the lobe.
Jack looked up at Sarah, who didn’t appear particularly bothered by what Mohalet Hadassah was doing.
“We won’t need the circumstraint,” she said as she climbed off Jack and retrieved her handbag. “Let’s get started.”
Jack wiped his face with his palm a few times and swallowed back rising bile. God Sarah owed him big time for this. She thought a blowjob was a big deal? Wait. He had wonderful plans in mind: whips, wax, anal, whatever the hell he wanted. And he was going to lay the guilt on her big time. He was becoming Jewish after all.
“A lot of men are circumcised at birth,” Alex said. “How come you weren’t?”
Jack shrugged. “My mother—” He swallowed, waited for the nausea to pass. “She didn’t believe in it. None of my brothers were circumcised either.”
The mohalet led Jack to the carpet and pushed him onto the blanket she’d spread out. “Just relax,” she said.
Relax? Sure. His cock had retreated faster than if it’d been doused with ice water. She was going to have a hell of a time coaxing it out again.
She undid his jeans and pulled them down his hips and off his body.
“I need complete silence,” she told them all. “Save the questions for the end. I go into a sort of trance, and I can’t be interrupted. Do you all understand?”
They all nodded.
“I mean it. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” they muttered.
Jack nodded. “Let’s get this done.”
The only item the mohalet retrieved from her bag was a bottle of lotion.
“No knife?” Alex asked.
“I don’t need a knife.” Mohalet Hadassah knelt between Jack’s splayed legs.
“Is it true what they say about you, Mohalet?” Sarah asked.
“No more questions,” the mohalet said. She placed her hands on Jack’s knees and slowly trailed them up his thighs.
Jack’s stomach clenched and his balls withered.
“You have to relax,” Mohalet Hadassah said.
“Relax? Are you kidding?”
She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slowly tugged them off. His shriveled little cock tried to flee the scene of the crime. “Do they have to be here?” he asked, cringing, looking from Sarah to Alex.
“Yes they do. Witnesses. No more talking,” she snapped. “Do you understand? Not one more word.”
Jack nodded, closed his eyes to avoid having to see Alex and Sarah. And the mohalet.
Relax. Okay, sure, relax. Ready and—now! That didn’t work. He couldn’t yell at it, force it to relax. It was wholly unnatural to be so unkind to his cock.
He opened his eyes. Mohalet Hadassah squirted lotion onto her palms and rubbed them briskly together. She took his desiccated cock between her fingers, slowly petting the almost nonexistent shaft. She lowered her head and flicked her tongue on his balls, licked him from his ballsack and up the shaft, settling on his glans.
He didn’t realize until he exhaled that he’d been holding his breath. Okay, this felt good … and if Sarah didn’t seem to mind, why should he? Just another blowjob, right? What did it matter whose head was bobbing on his cock? If he closed his eyes again, he could even pretend that it was Sarah. Except Sarah never gave head as good as this. This mohalet chick had just started and already blew Sarah out of the water.
Mohalet Hadassah’s breath was hot, her tongue probing, finding all the right spots. His cock responded eagerly. Her lotioned hands squeezed and pulled on the shaft. The tip of her tongue coaxed back the foreskin, exposed the glans. As she took him into her throat, he felt a groove in her mouth, on her bottom teeth. His dick slid neatly into this groove, surrounded by just a hint of the sharpened teeth, tugging oh-so-gently on random pubic hairs.
It felt dangerous in there, surrounded by those carved teeth, but so goddamned erotic. Just the slightest nibbles … a light burning sensation around the head of his cock as it slid in and out of her throat, her mouth. He remembered why the mohalet was here in the first place and decided he didn’t give a shit.
Fluid dribbled from his cock. Blood probably. Too soon to cum. Very little pain, but what pain there was had mixed with a feeling of ecstasy.
The best fucking blowjob he’d ever had. He didn’t want it to end. He’d allow her to shred the skin off his balls if it meant not letting this end.
He wondered if he’d be able to see her again, after this was over. He imagined himself in a threesome with Mohalet Hadassah and Sarah, and his cock got even harder. He didn’t think it was possible for it to have gotten any harder than it already was. His fingers clutched the blanket and he threw back his head, jerked his hips, desperate to fuck her mouth.
&nb
sp; Mohalet Hadassah deep-throat him, sliding the base of his dick along those teeth, dangerously close to his balls. He doubted his sack would fit in her mouth but she seemed to be able to work magic.
She pulled away from his pulsing, throbbing dick, and when the air hit it, he knew he’d been cut. His eyes flew open and he gasped. A puddle of blood spilled from between her full lips, but before he could say anything she went down on him again.
Her mouth was focused on the head of his cock, tongue flicking and licking the underside of the glans, fingers kneading his balls. She then began moving her head in a slow arc, his dick making contact with every inch of her amazing mouth. She went deep again, pulled him into her throat, bobbed up and down on the shaft.
“Oh, God,” Jack groaned, unable to help himself, caught up in the frenzy of her actions.
“Shhh!” Alex hissed.
But Jack liked to talk during sex. Liked to moan and yell, liked to express himself. Besides—what the fuck did she care? His words were compliments, expressions of joy and lust. She should be flattered.
“Fucking amazing!” He gasped, catching his breath, stars exploding before his eyes. Reached for the mohalet’s mass of blonde hair.
“No! Don’t talk,” Alex said through gritted teeth, his face draining of color. “Don’t talk while she’s working!”
Mohalet Hadassah jerked her head sharply, clearly startled by their voices. Her face filled with rage as she looked at Alex. Blood suddenly gushed down her chin. Something hung suspended from her mouth. Something Jack tried to ignore.
“Oh, Christ,” Jack said, right before he began to scream.
An Experiment in Human Nature
Ernest brushed the hair from his forehead with his fingertips and leaned against the wall, clumsily setting his glass upon the mantle.
Young men playing dress-up, designer knockoffs, daddy wannabees, enjoying Ernest’s parents’ good food and good smokes and good scotch, crashing in the Tudor home somehow misplaced even among the Hampton elite. Animal heads suspended from the walls gazed at them with their dead eyes. A billiards table sat unused in the corner.
“Okay,” Ernest said. “I promised you something interesting. Right? Now we see if you two have the jewels to go through with it.”
Caleb uncrossed his spider legs and leaned forward. He set his cigar in the oversized freestanding ashtray (the smoke was choking him anyway) and rose to his full height. Stretching his arms overhead, his fingertips fell inches short of the eight-foot ceiling.
“This should be good,” he said, cracking a smile.
Ernest smirked. “It wasn’t easy, but I think it’s worth it. Or will be, in the end. It’s brilliant.”
Ian, almost invisible in the corner of the room said, “What’d you do?” His blue eyes were intense as he squinted at the two other boys. Curly auburn hair and a baby face, he was the youngest of the trio at nineteen, but only by two years.
Ernest closed the double doors. “Keep it down. Some of the staff may still be wandering around. They might hear us.”
“So what’s the big secret?” Caleb asked.
Ernest cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes. “We swore that no matter what, we’d stick by each other, right?” He strummed his fingers on the edge of the table.
“Yeah, so? What’s got you so freaked?” Caleb said, though he nodded. “So yeah, we agreed. What’s your point?”
Ernest blinked, his long lashes almost dusting the tops of his high cheeks. “A study in human nature,” he said. “An experiment in perseverance. You guys think you have the stomach for such an experiment? One that’ll be messy? I guarantee, it’s going to end … badly.”
Caleb said, “Messy? What’s that mean?”
“It—”
“And end badly? What the hell does that mean?”
“Calm down, Caleb,” Ernest snapped. “I’m trying to fucking explain here, so shut up and listen.” He paused only for a second before continuing. “We’ll be running some experiments. Okay? Just some tests. And I got us a guinea pig.”
“What kind of experiments?” Ian said.
Caleb cocked his head. “What kind of guinea pig? Why do I get the feeling it’s not warm and furry.”
Ernest smirked. “Oh, it’s warm and furry all right …” He sat on the arm of the sofa. “Do you remember what we learned in Professor Klein’s class a few months back? About the strength of the human mind, the ability for a body to persevere, to survive at any cost? What I remember most were the slides of the concentration camp survivors from the Holocaust, and the Japanese POWs. Do you remember all of that?”
He paused a moment but wasn’t really waiting for their reply. “I’ve thought about that. A lot. Wondering … wondering what someone might do if …”
The air in the room felt heavy to Ian, as if it was coated in cotton. He pursed his lips, the color of his cheeks now matching his hair. “If what?” he murmured.
Ernest ignored him for the moment. “Thing is, there’s no turning back now.”
Caleb sighed and said, “Will you please get to the point? What did you do?”
Ernest stared at Caleb as if deciding how to proceed, whether or not to let Caleb in on the secret. “It’s already begun. I need to know what to expect from you guys. Because let me tell you, if I go down, we all go down. One for all, and all that stupid Musketeers bullshit, okay?”
He sat back in the chair and rubbed his palm across his mouth. “Here’s the thing. I found a … a test subject. I’d like to see how much it will take to … for him to break.”
“Break?” Caleb asked. “You’re joking, right?”
“Oh god,” Ian said through fingers splayed across his mouth. He leaned forward in his chair, and his face brightened as he finally realized what Ernest was talking about. “You’re talking about torture. Breaking some guy’s will. Right? Am I right? Holy shit, Ernest! Who’d you pick?”
“Nolan Pierson.”
“Who?” Caleb asked, but Ian knew the guy. Nolan was in their Psych class, and was in Latin and Chemistry with Ian and Ernest. Nolan was rather forgettable, with butchered black hair and oversized Buddy Holly glasses. The scholarship kid. His father was a janitor in the Harper Building on the west side of the campus. Every school has at least one Nolan—the kid whose Sears suit was never quite up to par, whose Payless shoes always fell apart a few months into the semester. The kid who wanted to fit in but just couldn’t afford to, his clothes and his efforts always being second rate.
Nolan was a throwaway human being.
“Him?” Caleb said. “I know who you mean. He won’t last—the guy’s a loser. He’s on scholarship for God’s sake.” He whispered the last part, as if naming a dreaded disease, as though naming it might inflict it on him.
“I think you’re wrong,” Ernest said. “And there begins our experiment. Who better than some poor kid who’s had to struggle all his life to get what he wants? A guy who tries to fit in but never manages to. If he didn’t have strength of character, I think he would have blown his brains out by now, n’est-ce pas? This guy has what we’re looking for.”
“You’re awfully empathetic,” Caleb remarked, his eyes at half mast. He snorted. “Like you really give a shit what this janitor’s kid’s been through.”
Ernest opened his mouth but Ian cut him off. “What are you going to do to him?”
“Me? Not me—we. What are we going to do to him.”
“Sure. Right. Then what?”
“Some tests.” Ernest turned toward Caleb. “And to answer your question, dickhead—”
“I didn’t ask any fucking question. All I said was you’re full of shit. You talk about him being poor and struggling and all that but you don’t care.”
“Like you do?”
Caleb shrugged. “Never said I did. In fact, I don’t. But you. You’re full of shit.”
Ernest smiled. “Oh yeah? I already have him in the house. Doesn’t matter if I feel sorry for him or not. All I wanna do is some experiment
s. Like I said, this has already begun. I invited him over and slipped some shit into his soda.”
“Well, I guess it’s started then,” Caleb said. “I’m with you. I’m in.”
“Just like that?” Ernest said.
“I trust you, man,” Caleb said. “We’re like brothers. And I think this sounds fucking exciting.”
They stared at Ian. He chewed on his bottom lip. “I’m in. You know I’m in.”
Ernest slapped his hands together. “We have the house to ourselves. The staff should have left by now. My parents gave them the night off since they’re going into the city for the weekend. So there’s no one left to, um, hear anything. Besides, Nolan’s tucked away in a safe place. Soundproof.”
He led them across the room and reached behind the bookcase. “You see those old movies with the gothic mansions that have these hidden passageways and shit?” He pushed a panel concealed behind a copy of The 120 Days of Sodom by the Marquis de Sade. A door disguised to look like part of the paneling creaked open. A light, musky air assaulted their nostrils.
Ernest ushered them inside and shut the door. They each held a flashlight, and Ernest led them down a hallway where the only sounds heard were their footfalls and the steady plinking of a leaky pipe.
They passed through several doors. On the last door, Ernest reached up and punched in a series of numbers on a keypad, locking it behind them. “Can never be too careful. We don’t need company.”
Ian brushed cobweb remnants out of his eyes as they approached a small room. He smelled something burning.
Ernest told them, “I don’t think my parents know about that secret panel upstairs, or even about this place. Jesus, I hope not anyway. But I just discovered it myself a few months ago.”
Light overtook the blackness. In the center of the room was a large, thick butcher-block table.
Tied to the table, naked and spread-eagle, was a young man with black hair. He was blindfolded, and his glasses had been placed on a tray beside his head. He was gagged, but that seemed unnecessary since he appeared to be unconscious. The slow rise and fall of his thin chest indicated he was still alive.
In The End, Only Darkness Page 10