Deceived and Enslaved by Leo Barton Read Free Book Online Page B

We filled both her channels of delight at once.
    Lost in my reverie I had forgotten about June. But by the orgiastic shriek, muffled though it was by the gag, I could tell that our mission had been accomplished.
    There was one more part to the ceremony before we could accept the two girls as acolytes. As we withdrew from the girl, our pleasure was to lift Lucy up so that her sex was at the same level as Amanda's mouth. I removed the gag, and forced Amanda's mouth onto Lucy's sex. Amanda, innocent though she was, seemed to know what was expected of her and lapped at Lucy's quim greedily. June had the delight of sampling JS's not inconsiderably sized cock. She too seemed to take it with relish. I don't know what sight was more delightful, to watch JS come inside the girl's mouth, and for her to take all his seed down her throat, or to watch Lucy in such a wild paroxysm of pleasure.
    As they say, a good time is had by all.
    After it was all over I asked PCK if he thought that what we did was dangerous, legally I meant, him training to be a lawyer and everything. But he said we were safe. As far as he knew there was no law against it. The sex was consensual. Anyway, none of these girls would go to court if only because they had enjoyed themselves so much. The sensible ones always dropped the religious overtones and went looking for excitement elsewhere, the others hung around a little, and their interest gradually declined, unless we promised them another type of initiation ceremony. So he thinks we are safe. I can't believe my luck. My god, if they only knew.'
    Lillian could not believe that Hyde-Lee had written it. It was the nature of the gloatingly inhuman prose that shocked her the most. Hyde-Lee truly was a Janus figure. What a contrast to the kind, considerate prose of his novels!
    But this was not what pained her. Willingham had said it, Hyde-Lee had said as much, that her father, Joseph Simpson, or JS as she was sure he had appeared in the diary, was part of a threesome, a pretty terrible threesome at that. What had Hyde-Lee said to her the last time that they had spoken: 'a pretty awful gothic triptych, like one of those confoundable things you found in the National Gallery, not a particularly pleasant sight.'
    At first, she had thought he had been referring to some adolescent gaucherie, to youthful indiscretion or pretension, but now she knew.
    She felt angry with her father. How could he have participated in these things, and not just that, but how could he have had so little respect for the women he had deflowered? How could they have all been convinced that the women were all willing victims? The nineteen fifties were not the nineteen ninety's. Those girls were innocent and vulnerable, and her father had taken advantage of them for his own perverse pleasure.
    There was something even more terrifying at the back of her mind, something which suddenly propelled itself into the forefront of her thoughts. It was the description of the place, the basement with the candles, the large slab of stone, and the metal poles. There were too many similarities for it to be mere coincidence. Of course, her dream! It was like her dream! Not in every detail, but surely over the years! How many details they must have changed, developed new tortures, new punishments?
    How could she have dreamt something so similar to what she had just read? Surely not! Surely her father could not have sacrificed his own daughter on this bogus altar of pleasure. It was too inconceivable for her to think. But how else could she explain the dream.
    Yes, she would write a book about Hyde-Lee, she decided. She certainly would. She would outline every single barbarous thing he had done in his life, every single crime he had committed. She would research it much more thoroughly than she had researched anything in her life.
    Suddenly a thought came to her. She clutched at the last chance to redeem her father. She picked up the second volume of the diaries: they