None More Black

by Williams, Brett

  People cheered, others drank. Brant pulled from a bottle of beer and said:

  “I believe everyone here knows the lovely and talented Tara Jones. Without Tara and her team of equally attractive and skilled young women, some of you wouldn't be working here today. You would undoubtedly find your job much more difficult without her and her staff's behind-the-scenes efficiency. Let's hear it for the ladies!”

  They received a round of applause, accompanied by a catcall (from one of the BOFHs?) and a pair of wolf-whistles, one of which surely originated with the new head of sales.

  “Okay, okay. There are a few more people who deserve mention before this soirée gets out of hand.” The crowd parted as Brant moved behind the couch. He clapped a hand on Joseph Kincaid's shoulder. “Drop the game controller and stand up, Joey. Is there anyone here who hasn't met Joey Kincaid? I believe Joey has visited each facility more than anyone, including me, including Tara.”

  “Sorry,” head of sales said, “I haven't had the pleasure.” He stepped forward and offered his name and hand, which Joey graciously shook.

  “Joey is our Bastard Operator From Hell, though he's no bastard and he hails from Des Moines. BOFH, for those of you who don't know, originated as a work of satire about a disgruntled systems administrator but I digress. What Joey does, and does well, besides flirting with all the women...” Brant paused for laughs and giggles. “What Joey and his team of operators do is set up and operate all the servers across our network. So, the more hosting services, et cetera, you sell, the more equipment Joey must set up and maintain. It goes without saying that over the past year Joey has been a busy little beaver, traveling from city to city, setting up, configuring, and troubleshooting shit. Round of applause for Joey and all the Bastard Operators From Hell!”

  This time a few women, including Jenna coked-out behind the bar, wolf-whistled for Joey.

  “Speaking of busy beavers,” Brant joked, “I'd like to thank all the beavers who kept Joey busy with their fringe benefits. As I always say, it's the intangibles which make the most demanding jobs bearable.

  “I must also acknowledge Denzel Watkins. Sorry, Denny. I realize you aren't one for attention, but suffice to say Denny manages our ever-expanding databases. He knows his business and I couldn't ask for a better guy for the job. Thank you, Denny. And thank you to your team.”

  Brant, pausing for applause, started back toward the bar. He caught Jenna's attention and gestured for her to prepare what they had planned.

  He said, “Then there is Alex Lancaster. Lancaster prefers to keep a low profile, perhaps even lower than Denny. But let it be known that when I ask Lancaster to go above and beyond, he always – and I mean always – delivers. In fact, I'm sure Derek will be thrilled at what Lancaster has delivered for us tonight.”

  Lancaster chuckled while most of the crowd expressed puzzled looks. Brant grinned. “Jenna, hand me the bottle, please.”

  She handed him a bottle of wine. The wine Suvos had given him. Vin de Sang. Blood wine.

  “Tonight we toast to a job well done, a vintage I've been saving for a special occasion. An occasion such as this. Please, everyone, gather round.”

  Brant ceremoniously popped the cork as Jenna lined the bar top with additional wine glasses. As Brant poured everyone a drink, Katie included (“Me too, Sir?” “Especially you.”), thoughts filtered through his mind.

  Enjoy your Kool-Aid

  Get ready for the time of your life

  Which of these bitches should I fuck first?

  Brilliant idea buying black market Viagra from my cocaine connection

  Once everyone had their glass of wine, Brant raised his glass, Katie by his side, and began to toast:

  “Thank you once again, you sick fucks, for helping to build the world's largest cache of digitized occult information in the world. For promoting perversity, for attracting those of similar minds and beginning to collect their on-line information. You've done all of this for a sense of accomplishment, to please me, and ultimately to appease an entity sicker and more perverse than us all – for no better reason that a damn good paycheck.” Brant grinned, glass still held high, and caught sight of Shadow Man lurking in a corner. “And so tonight we toast to sickness, debasement, and perversity! Here, here! Ignis sanguine virginum! Ignis carnis adest! Ignis nobis furorem!”

  Brant swirled his glass and enjoyed the bouquet. It smelled like any other Cabernet, albeit with a strong coppery undertone. He drained the glass, imagining its taste akin to drinking the finest wine from the pussy of a menstruating virgin – sweet and wet, with an immediate kick to the libido. His skin began to tingle, like when he bathed with peppermint soap Katie sometimes bought, except ten-fold. Lights dimmed of their own accord... the room buzzed... No, it hummed. Something had happened. Something was happening. Movement caught the eye in several mirrors hung about the room.

  A disconcerting yet not un-enjoyable sense of fear filled him. He felt like a teenage boy standing at the brink of sexual manhood, about to enjoy his first act of sex with a young girl he loved, he and all of his friends and acquaintances, a young girl whose father was sure to come crashing the party, all of this while his own father watched proudly and his mother stared in disgust. It boggled the mind and steeled the cock.

  Blood wine paired well with Latin quoted from the Suvos’ journal. Perhaps drugs and alcohol helped to increase the libido. Or, perhaps, being caught unaware worked to increase the effect, Brant would never know but could see the results playing out around him.

  Tara Jones and Marsha Brady locked lips in a passionate kiss. Denny, standing behind Tara, began to grope her breasts. Joey Kincaid started to tear clothes from Cindy while she dropped to knees before him. Attendees began to pair off with the nearest potential sex partner. When Katie's hand landed on the erection straining to free itself from his pants, he said “No” and pushed her toward Lancaster, who apparently planned to share her with his men.

  “You,” Brant said, “and you – come with me.” Brainy and Skinny Witch did not hesitate to each take an arm, where they accompanied him to the master suite with a bottle of champagne to drink from each other's ass.

  46

  “Three... Two... One...” The grip around Skinny Witch's neck eased, allowing her to gasp for breath.

  “Fuck, that is hot,” Brainy said. “Slap that bitch.”

  Brant dragged Skinny's head up from the floor by the hair and slapped her roughly across the face. He'd slapped and whipped them both, so much so that most of their skin had flushed red from brutality.

  “Go fuck yourself, bitch,” Brant told Skinny and slung her to the bed.

  Then he went to Brainy, clamped a hand around her neck. “You're a bossy bitch,” he said with a slap to the face. “Over,” he commanded, and she bent at the waist. “Down.” She knelt. Letting loose her neck he forced shoulders to the floor with a foot then planted it on her head, and removed the champagne bottle she'd been fucking her ass with from her orifice and tossed it to Skinny. “Use it,” he commanded, erection bobbing. The erection plunged fully into Brainy's exposed gaping asshole.

  He fucked her ass with long, hard thrusts as he watched Skinny lick the bottleneck much as she had licked his cock. The bottle then entered her pussy, neck first. It penetrated deeply and stretched sweetly in the process. Brainy moaned with pleasure and teased her clit. Brant ground his foot on her head, as if grinding out a cigarette butt on a sidewalk. The erection exited the anus and plunged balls-deep into a moaning Brainy. He pounded the slit hard. So hard that Brainy nearly toppled over but didn't. Then he rammed his cock back into her asshole.

  They'd been at it a while now and he was itching to tour the house to see what other delights might be had.

  But first he wanted Skinny again.

  “Bitch,” he addressed her, “you need more cock?”

  “Always.”

  He left Brainy to topple over as he went to Skinny. He flipped her onto her back, head hanging off the mattress, and sh
oved his cock in to the balls. He mouth-raped her as he slapped breasts and pussy, then spun her around, one leg held high, and alternated plunging his cock into both orifices.

  Pussy – ass – pussy – ass...

  She screamed in delight.

  “Sit on her face, bitch,” he commanded an obedient Brainy.

  He alternated fucking the orifices as the pair of college school girls screamed out in ecstasy.

  Then he dragged Brainy down by the hair in a female 69 position and blasted her face with sperm. A few more thrusts in Skinny's pussy seemed in order. Once finished, the two bitches kissed and licked each other clean, along with him.

  A cocktail of blood wine and Viagra kept him hard. He began to stalk the halls with an erection, as humble host of this macabre orgy.

  Jenna's room was occupied, but not with Jenna, nor with Shadow Man. Joey and two of the other system administrators were gangbanging an administrative assistant, a redhead whose eye makeup ran down her face. Her body shone with perspiration, as did a pair of her colleagues, gorgeous blondes, busy licking each other's pussy.

  Brant fucked one and then the other before skillfully wedging his cock into the gangbanged woman, whose holes were already filled. When the men switched orifices Brant gave the bitch's breasts a good slap before heading back down the hall.

  In the bathroom one of the business analysts was enjoying a golden shower from a BOFH. At the end of the hall head of sales plowed into an admin assistant. Brant enjoyed her mouth and, pinching shut nostrils, forced her to gag before continuing the tour downstairs.

  An ominous feeling of being watched followed his every move. The feeling had intensified upon imbibing blood wine and reciting Latin. It had persisted, if not grown stronger, ever since.

  Where was Shadow Man? he wondered. Not that it truly mattered. Not now. He sensed the watchful eyes belonged not only to Suvos but Kasas himself. Perhaps others, as well. The thought brought a rare smile to his face.

  I will not be made an example of, Brant thought. I'm capable of accomplishing anything I set my mind to. Today I set it toward being anything but some supernatural entity's bitch.

  At the bottom of the stairs he turned toward the library and the guest suite beyond. As expected he found the rest of the coven there, along with Denny. They appeared to be performing some sort of voodoo rite. Denny was giving Fat Witch serious black cock while reciting gibberish. The whole room pulsated in otherworldly light – with each drop of candle wax from Goth Witch onto her friend, each flame in the room flared, as if served a puff of pure oxygen.

  Brant mounted Goth Witch from behind. He pounded into her roughly, squeezing breasts, pinching nipples, biting her goddamned neck and shoulder. Melted wax started to drip haphazardly which set the fire in the fireplace raging past the mantelpiece. Mirrors and eyeless portraits lent a sense of public display which momentarily spiked Brant's sense of impending doom. How many otherworldly entities were spectator of this event? More than just the two he knew of. More than he care speculate.

  Denny gestured that the rite required they rotate women, which Brant gladly accommodated. He took the long, black candle and doused its flame in the anus of a wailing Fat Witch. Fat Witch? More like fat bitch. He shoved it in deep, left it, and slid his cock into her vagina. From the sound of Goth Witch she was being torn apart. Candle and cock switched orifices as Brant slapped the visibly intoxicated bitch around. She was loving this, thrashing and screaming as if she might die from an orgasm. Brant kept on until the sensation visibly subsided. Then he continued his rounds.

  A couple had paired off in the guest room. Brant recognized faces but not names, nor their function within the company. A woman was riding a bedpost while sucking a cock as the man stood on the bed. Brant spat in the crack of her ass and eased in his cock. He fucked her a bit, nearly throttling her as he did, before heading for the basement.

  The sound of a braying donkey met him on the way down, bringing attention to the ruckus going on throughout the house that Brant, having become accustomed to, only noticed once muffled by walls.

  Derek stood naked behind the beast, face screwed into an expression of abject pleasure, as the violated animal hee-hawed and eeyored in protest. Brant flashed the software developer a grin, then noticed the woman, one of Tara's girls he suspected, beneath the beast. A bestiality orgy or love-train. Kasas would approve. Brant's grin spread into a smile at the sound of a bloodcurdling scream. He followed the cry into the next room. The dungeon.

  Snap!

  The business end of a whip bit creamy flesh.

  “Nice,” Brant commented to Tara as he shut the door behind himself. One of her girls (or was it one of the admin assistants? Perhaps her own administrative assistant) lie bound and naked to a short table. Tara wore a black latex getup and mask that left breasts bared and crotch exposed. “Is this how you train your staff?” Brant quipped.

  “Only those who make my pussy wet.”

  Brant rounded the dominating woman and placed a hand on her hip. The other hand cupped a handful of ample bosom. He kissed her neck as the hand slipped from hip to thigh to crotch where fingers tested the implied wetness and delved into slick folds.

  “Damn,” he agreed, “that kitten deserves a nice whipping.”

  “Yes, she does.”

  Brant stood clear as the Santa Fe site coordinator and lead business analyst adeptly snapped leather against the swell of a breast. The bound woman's eyes bulged as she yelped in pain.

  “I do believe you're making her wet, too,” Brant said.

  “Of course. The little slut gets off on pain.”

  “May I?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Tara handed him the whip. It was long, perhaps two-and-a-half feet at the handle, close to four at its braided leather end. He whipped it through the air a few times to get the feel of it.

  “Try not to hit me with the damn thing,” Tara said.

  “That will cost you a kiss. Go ahead, plant that bright red cocksucker on my lips.”

  Tara kissed him passionately, with plenty of tongue, a gloved hand tight on his ass.

  “Give it a try,” she said. “Whip that nasty slut.”

  Unlike when Tara had wielded the whip, leather slapped across the woman's body much like the belt had slapped Katie.

  “I certainly lack your finesse,” he said.

  “Practice makes perfect.”

  Leather slapped arms, abdomen, the woman's face, which sent blood spraying from busted lips as she screamed. On the next try Brant nearly succeeded in hitting Tara as he slung leather overhead.

  “Give me that,” she said, “before you hurt me.”

  “Hang on,” Brant said. Handle twirled around in his hand, he shoved it deep between the bound woman's legs. “How much do you think she can take?”

  “Half the handle. Maybe.”

  “Twenty bucks says she takes more.”

  “Just twenty bucks? Let's make it fifty. No, a hundred.”

  “Fuck that. If I can make her take three-quarters of the handle, say this far, you fuck me.”

  “You're on.”

  Brant eased the handle into the moaning slut. He got maybe three-eighths inside before the handle met resistance.

  “Looks like I win,” Tara said with palm facing up.

  “Fuck that,” Brant repeated. “This challenge isn't over. The slut will take it, just watch.”

  “I'm watching.”

  The dominatrix watched with admiration as he began to thrust the handle in and out of the woman.

  “Her pussy just needs a little attention first, that's all.”

  “Sure it does. Still not halfway. Not even close to three-quarters.”

  Brant's thrusts became faster, harder. The woman's moans, initially resonating her pleasure, became cries of agony as he pummeled her internally with the damn thing.

  “You'll ruin her,” Tara stated indifferently, seeming unconcerned as the dungeon buzzed with otherworldly energy.

  “
She's already ruined.” Brant rammed the handle in deeper, bloody droplets flecking the handle. Her eyes bulged as her face turned red, nearly purple, and tears streamed from her face.

  “Impressive,” Tara said, visibly becoming aroused. “But you're going to lose. Then you'll need to find someone else to fuck. Or it is a bloody pussy you wish to fuck?”

  “Don't you worry,” he said, “I'll win the bet. I'll fuck her ruined pussy, then I'll fuck your smart mouth with my bloody cock.”

  “I'm waiting,” Tara said. “Two more inches to go... You're nearly there.” She started to stroke Brant's cock as he, determined to win, hammered the end of the whip handle trying to make nail it in deep enough. Blood and gore drained from the slut's gash. When she fainted, Tara spat in her face and slapped her a few times.

  But then, finally, Tara acknowledged, “You win, stud.”

  A sense of gratification washed over Brant. It did little to relieve the sense of dread he felt at the watchful eyes of Kasas, Suvos, and their ilk on his back. So he reveled in the debauchery to help distract the mind.

  He fucked the abused woman's bloody cunt. Tara sucked and fucked him, using all her holes to ultimately satisfy him. He left her licking her lips clean of jism as she again wielded the whip when he exited the dungeon.

  The woman (or was it a different woman now?) knelt on all fours enjoying herself beneath the donkey. Derek, still stiff himself, stroked his cock as he eyed the ass of the beast.

  “Damn, man,” Derek said, “amazing party. How did you know what I like?”

  “Thorough background checks: you cannot beat them.”

  “Care for a turn before I mount up?”

  “Knock yourself out,” Brant said. “I just need something before I go back upstairs.”

  “It's your place, man.”

  The animal brayed at Derek's intrusion while Brant went to the supplies Brainy kept meticulously sorted and stored. With the needed object retrieved, he approached Derek from behind.