What would the future hold for her relationship with Brad? He had mentioned going to college but if he had decided on a school, he had never mentioned it to her. Or had he? A chasm of lost information had vacated her memory. That loss brought tears to her eyes. The clock pushed eleven o’clock, which left little time before sun-up around five thirty. Amanda truly didn’t want to go inside. But one more night couldn’t hurt, could it?
Amanda snuffed out the cigarette butt with her shoe and went to the door, unlocked it, went inside. There she found the house silent, everyone asleep. She went upstairs, to her room. She discovered the room neat and tidy, work of the housekeeper, no doubt.
All of her clothes had been washed, folded or hung on hangers, and put away. Amanda gathered them all out of her closet and dresser and packed them into her backpack and only suitcase, the one she had used to bring her things here nearly a year ago.
Despite her excitement, Amanda found herself frightened at the thought of striking out on her own tomorrow. She would have no one to help her should anything go wrong. With only a high school education and minimum wage job, she anticipated many things could go wrong. Perhaps Brad would help her. His contact with Kat and Mandy sprang to mind. Would he be there for her, Amanda, in a week? Two? What about in two months when he started college?
Amanda’s vision grew blurry as she finished packing her things, all but a change of clothes which she placed on her desk, a comfortable outfit to wear tomorrow. She hadn’t showered in two days so she took a nightshirt and fresh panties, intending to take a quick shower. She removed the chair bracing the door closed and, after listening for sounds on the other side, peered out. The hallway remained dark, just as it had been earlier.
She crossed the hall to the bathroom, locked herself inside. She started the shower and undressed while the water heated up. Steam came rolling out when she stepped under the pelting warm spray. A melancholy overcame her as she lathered her body with soap. At that moment, alone in the shower, it felt like her against the world, with the world winning. But tonight was the final round, and she had matched the world blow for blow. She merely needed to last to the bell. Nobody stood in her corner, yet she had managed.
No, that wasn’t true. Pammy had helped, and Brad had been there for her. Right? Then why did she feel this way? She didn’t know. Water rinsed away her tears as she wept in the shower. Strong, she must stay strong, she knew. Now was no time for a breakdown.
She toweled herself dry, stepped out of the shower, wiped steam from the mirror, and saw her less haggard expression looking back at her. She smiled. The shower had lifted her spirit, helped rejuvenate her. Yes, she could make it until morning. After brushing and flossing her teeth she combed her hair. She stopped to view the tattoo on the back of her neck. Ouroboros, representing a continuous, repeating cycle of rebirth. How could such a thing have gotten on her neck?
Amanda slipped on her panties and was pulling on a nightshirt when the floor creaked from outside the door. Amanda froze, even held her breath. Was someone awake?
“Amanda,” a voice called.
Amanda dared not reply.
“Amanda,” Mr. Henning said, “can you hear me?”
“Y-yes, Mr. Henning.”
“Good. How long before you’re finished in there?”
Amanda was finished, but she didn’t dare come out. “I don’t know,” she said. “It might be a while.”
“Are you okay? Amy has a surprise for you.”
A surprise?
Amanda’s hands began to tremble. She wished she had a cigarette. And a knife or handgun. Sobbing, she said, “Please leave me be.”
“But Amanda,” Amy’s voice pleaded, “I won’t see you tomorrow, so we have to celebrate your birthday tonight.”
Celebrate her birthday? Tonight? Amanda didn’t want to celebrate anything with the Henning family, much less her birthday. She would celebrate her independence tomorrow, at her own place.
“I’m sorry but I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” Mrs. Henning said. “After all we’ve done for you, it’s the least you can do.”
“There’s cake and ice cream,” Amy sing-songed.
“I have the money I promised you,” Mr. Henning said, reminding Amanda of his promise to replace what Mandy had spent.
“And a present from us to you,” Mrs. Henning said.
Amanda gripped the doorknob but was afraid to twist it and disengage its lock.
“Please, Amanda,” Mr. Henning persisted, “I don’t want to ask you again. Besides, if I do, you know you won’t be able to resist.”
Amanda didn’t know how she knew, but Mr. Henning’s words rang true. She didn’t see any other way around the situation.
“Okay,” Amanda said, opening the door.
All three stood smiling back at her.
“We’re going to miss you,” Mr. Henning said as he gave her a bear hug.
“You were always such a great help, Amanda,” Mrs. Henning said, with a hug of her own.
“I liked having a big sister, even if we didn’t get along all the time.” Amy hugged Amanda tight, pressing her head between Amanda’s breasts.
Their seemingly genuine emotions confused Amanda. Perhaps this sick, perverted family truly cared for her in its own depraved way.
“Let’s eat cake,” Amy exclaimed.
“You can’t eat too much,” Mrs. Henning said to her daughter, “or you’ll have nightmares.”
Mr. Henning added: “We’re only celebrating so late because Amanda will be gone tomorrow.”
“I know,” Amy said.
Amanda followed them downstairs. Everyone except Mrs. Henning took a seat at the dining table.
“I’ll be right back with the cake,” Mrs. Henning said.
Amy excitedly rubbed her hands together.
A bunch of black balloons tied to the handle of a black gift bag floated in the air. An envelope marked Happy Birthday, Amanda lay on the table.
“Dim the lights, dear,” Mrs. Henning called.
“I’ll do it.” Amy bounced out of her chair and twisted the dimmer switch to low. Dancing candlelight filled the room as Mrs. Henning carried in a black-trimmed quarter sheet cake.
“Look, Amanda,” Mr. Henning said, “see what a lovely cake we have for you?”
The cake featured terrifying decorations: a snake circling to swallow its own tail, an inverted cross, and other satanic symbols. The entire cake looked to Amanda like some perverse mockery of an Over the Hill cake. And three candles burned atop the cake, each a number six.
“Six, six, and six,” Amy said. “Happy eighteenth birthday!”
“Happy birthday, Amanda,” Mr. Henning said.
“I’ll cut the cake,” Mrs. Henning said, producing a double-edged rippled dagger.
“No,” Amanda said. “Oh no …”
“Yes,” Mr. Henning said, clutching her upper arm. “All for you. Now make a wish to Lucifer, and blow out the candles.”
“Do it!”
“Do it!”
Amanda, seeing no other option, blew out the candles. A moment later, Mrs. Henning turned the overhead lights brighter. As she cut the cake Amanda started to tremble uncontrollably. Tears ran in rivulets down her face while ice cold perspiration trickled down her back.
“Maybe you’ll get your wish,” Amy said, to her parents’ amusement.
“Open your card,” Mr. Henning urged.
With shaky hands, Amanda did so. Money filled the card, more than she could count. Presumably the replacement money Mr. Henning had promised. He laughed loudly as Amanda read the depraved birthday card that could only have come from some adult novelty store. It read: Happy Fucking Birthday and featured a woman pleasing a group of men.
Amanda dropped the card as she sobbed.
“Now open your gift,” Mr. Henning said as Mrs. Henning began scooping ice cream onto plates of cake.
Amanda reluctantly opened the gift bag and removed the horrid gifts inside: a tube of anal lub
e and a large rubber plug.
“You stick that in your ass,” Amy said.
Amanda grew dizzy, began to hyperventilate, her trembling grew so violent, she thought she might fall out of her chair.
“Eat your cake,” someone said, but Amanda didn’t think she could.
They continued to urge her to eat until she felt obligated to force herself. A few bites down, she feared it might come up again. But maybe if she cleared her plate, they would let her return to her room.
“Thank y-you,” Amanda forced out. “May I be excused now?”
“Excused?” Mr. Henning stated in mock shock. “Your party has just begun.”
“No …” Amanda said. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
The Henning family looked crushed, mock disappointment, for sure.
“If you don’t want to attend your own birthday party,” Mr. Henning said, “that’s quite all right.”
“Really?” Amanda asked.
“Yes, really.” Pushing back his chair, though, he stood up from the table. “Since you don’t wish to, perhaps Mandy will.”
“No … Oh no. Not Mandy …” Amanda shook her head in disbelief. The room started to spin and she feared collapsing to the floor before she could bolt from the room.”
“Either you or Mandy. It’s your birthday, you decide. In fact, as a school administrator I’ve arranged a combination graduation-birthday party in your honor.”
Graduation, her goal all along. Yes, she would attend, not Mandy. Once over she would get her things and leave, go to an all-night diner, something, and never see these people again.
“Okay,” Amanda blubbered, wiping away a tear, “I’ll go.”
CEREMONY OF A VIRGIN WHORE
Amanda, donning a black graduation robe, followed the Henning family as they escorted her across campus. When she noticed a pair of girls standing outside the gymnasium-auditorium building smoking cigarettes, a sinking feeling overcame her. Cars filled a nearby parking lot and adults, some wearing robes of their own, gravitated toward the building. She didn’t recognize them as faculty and couldn’t fathom why anyone else would be dressed in a graduation gown.
“Frank,” Mr. Henning said, raising a hand to an approaching man, “glad you could make it. How’re things in Denver?”
“I can’t complain,” the man replied. “You know I wouldn’t miss tonight for anything, not with you involved, you bastard.”
Mr. Henning’s smile unnerved Amanda. Her legs grew weak and she didn’t know if they would carry her any farther. Mr. Henning clapped the man on the shoulder, “I’ll catch you after the ceremony.”
Inside the building scores of people, mostly male adults, filled the bleachers. Instead of a using overhead lighting, for some terrifying reason, row upon row of wrought-iron candelabras had been brought in, each candle burning brightly but unable to fill the grand space with sufficient light. While a podium, some sort of padded platform, and a row of cakes lined up on folding tables could be seen in the center of the auditorium, only dancing shadows and darkness extended to the bleachers and walls beyond. Not many students stood in attendance. In fact, the students Amanda did see didn’t stand at all but were instead kneeled down before men sucking their cocks.
This was no birthday party, nor was it any sort of graduation. Perhaps some twisted mockery in the same vein as Amy’s own birthday party, Amanda realized.
“No,” she cried. “I can’t. I won’t.”
She started for the exit but both Mr. and Mrs. Henning latched onto her arms.
“Oh yes you will,” Mr. Henning said.
“It’s your god-damned birthday party,” Amy said. “Daddy went to a lot of trouble, just for you. Don’t start any shit.”
“Shut your mouth,” Mr. Henning said. “Better yet, find someone and put it to good use. We can handle Amanda.”
Amanda began to struggle violently. Her kicks and screams were successful only in drawing the attention of the crowd and gaining their amusement. An arm wrenched wickedly behind her back left her in no position to continue her struggle.
“Please don’t, Mr. Henning. I’ve been good,” Amanda pleaded. “I did as you asked, never called the police, never caused any problems. I’m so close. Very close. Please let me go.”
“I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to. We’ve been waiting a long time for this day.”
“So have I,” Amanda cried. “So have I.”
“We may have to do this with Mandy, after all,” Mrs. Henning suggested.
Amanda wished this entire event could be done in the honor of someone else but the sneaking suspicion that trading places with Mandy would do nothing to free her from this madness but only take away Amanda’s control of her own mind terrified her to the point of blurting. “No, not Mandy. Anything but her.”
“Everyone, please be seated,” a voice boomed over a loudspeaker. A robed man now stood behind the podium. He adjusted a microphone before adding, “I shall soon begin the incantation from the Tome of Luciferian Rites.”
“Do everything Ceremonial Father says,” Mr. Henning whispered. “Do not fuck this up.”
Amanda’s chin quivered.
Ceremonial Father?
Tome of Luciferian Rites
Robed figures
Girls pleasing men openly
In anticipation of tonight’s ceremony
Though it made no logical sense, Amanda sensed immediate danger, a danger she couldn’t hope to escape and in fact had begun to understand as a fissure formed within her psyche, allowing the acceptance of associations between what was and what had already happened to her before.
With the crowd seated, the incantation began. Serpentine words flowed from the man to broadcast throughout the auditorium. The ancient language caused a weeping Amanda to nearly collapse but her Guardian Parents held her steady with their firm grip. They then led her to stand before the podium as six robed figures joined them, flanking three to each side. Ceremonial Father’s chanting continued as more figures, moments later, filed in to line the walls.
The chanting ceased and Ceremonial Father said, “Lay back the hoods of darkness. Show yourselves to Lucifer, our most unholy god.”
“Hail Lucifer!” everyone said as they lowered their hoods. One of the males standing to the right of Amanda appeared older, a tall muscular man with a badly-scarred face. The others, in their twenties and thirties, stood in perfect attendance while the youngest, perhaps not quite twenty years of age, shifted anxiously, in anticipation to proceed.
Amanda’s ponytail swayed as she glanced side-to-side at the men.
“Girl,” Ceremonial Father bellowed, “step forward.” Pause. “Tonight marks your birth by six, six, and six years, correct?”
Amanda complied out of fear. “Yes, Ceremonial Father.”
“What is your name, girl?”
“My name is Amanda.”
“State, for Lucifer, have you ever indulged in vaginal intercourse, girl?”
“No, never.”
“Good, good. Lucifer is pleased.”
“You have experienced oral and anal sex, correct?”
Amanda reflected on the times she’d orally pleased Brad. She also recalled fearfully what deep down she knew that Mandy (she!) had allowed to happen with Tony, Mr. Henning, and who knows who else during her memory gaps. “Y-yes.” She glanced toward the small crowd standing by the table of cakes. There she saw Amy, Kat, Vicky, Matt, Brad. Kat winked at her.
“And,” Ceremonial Father continued, “have you participated in sexual acts with many men and women?”
“Yes …” Sobs wracked her body.
Vicky waved excitedly.
“Very well. Lucifer is pleased. To some,” Ceremonial Father explained, “you are considered a virgin, having never experienced vaginal intercourse. However, others would consider you a whore. Agreed?”
“Yes,” Amanda said, knowing she had, as both Mandy and herself, given these people exactly what they wanted.
“Quite a
n accomplishment for a girl of six, six, and six years. Lucifer is pleased. Tonight we participate in a special ceremony. For Lucifer loves mockery. Lucifer loves whores. Perhaps most of all, Lucifer loves the mockery of virginity. Disrobe, virgin whore! Disrobe, Lucifer’s studs!”
Amanda reluctantly, along with the six men flanking her, disrobed, baring her body for Lucifer and the masses. She kicked aside her clothing.
“Take position on the altar, whore.”
Ashamed and beaten, Amanda said, “Yes, Father.”
The girl hopped onto the padded table and spread open her legs. She would allow them their way with her so that she could move on with her life.
“Men, take this whore as you like but keep her virginity intact.”
“Yes, Father.”
Amanda, leaning back, accepted the penis of a tattooed man into her mouth. She could see a pectoral tattoo which spelled R-O-C-K on the man’s chest and knew it was Kat’s boyfriend.
Other men stroked their cocks or slapped her face, breasts, and thighs with it, to gain her attention. Soon, she alternated sucking cocks while simultaneously stroking others. It sickened and disgusted her to be with them but at this point she’d grown desensitized with depravity enough to force herself to endure it temporary. With all the men hard, she found herself lusting for more and hating herself for it. Besides, with Brad standing beside Kat, it made things easier to give herself to these men, to Rock. The youngest man, a man her age, uncorked the butt plug Amy had forced into her anus earlier and handed it to her to taste. She sucked it, just as she had each man’s penis, as the stud slid his erection into her gaping anal opening.
Amanda quickly discarded the sex toy in favor of more penis. In fashion, the men revolved from one orifice to the next, taking turns with her, slapping her face, batting her breasts, sometimes choking her neck by hand or forcing their cocks deep into her mouth, attempting to gag her. Amanda vowed to refuse the surging crowd their cheers each time a man brought her pain, instead accepting each strike or forceful penetration in earnest.
The most well-hung man, the scarred older man, forced the length of his member deep into her mouth, as she leaned back. Rock was fucking her anus while the scarred man’s scrotum rested on the bridge of her nose. He used one hand to throttle her neck and another to twist a nipple. Her face grew blood red before she made a muffled gagging sound and forced him off her. She rose into a sitting position as vomit poured from her mouth. Rock pulled out and away as the cake-and-ice-cream sludge dribbled down her chin and splattered her breasts.
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