August Moone
Book 3
Sidetrips
Chapter 29
The Spawn of Satan

	Adam Jones.  A sandy haired fresh from the City, trying to gain buddies that would protect him from any potential school yard bullies, fell into a wrong crowd.  They weren’t really so wrong, just foolish and and hoped that they could get away with something.
	They were wrong.
	And naturally the least likely member of the team was nabbed.
	He was nabbed and brought before the Chief of Security, Daniel LaFrost.  A small covey of ill-gotten booty the boy had in his shirt and pockets.  He was in deep.  He stared at the floor and not at the Chief of  Security.  The boy sheepishly sighed, his clothes were okay, he didn’t seem to appear to come from a poor family, his hair was neat--just long, rich and full.  The boy looked good and not malnourished or any thing remotely placing the lad as one coming from an abusive home that would lead him to be a petty thief.
	He fiddled with the draw string of his sweat shirt and looked as given the chance he would bolt.  The door behind him was closed (and locked.)  The tall burly black bearded security chief escorted him by the shoulders to the chair before the desk.
	He didn’t have an ID card, he was very new to the town of Cartersville.  He gave his name and address and barely could be heard giving the phone of where his father worked.  He fidgeted in the leather seat, still looking at the floor.
	Some silence elapsed as the Chief scribbled on a pad, then he picked up the phone and began pressing numbers.  The boy gulped and looked up,
	“Y-you calling my folks?” he quivered.
	“Have to, you broke the law.”
	The boy sighed, like Charlene before him, he had been put up to the deed of shoplifting.  And abandoned when the proverbial “jig was up.”  Like Charlene, fresh from the City, she (and he) only wanted to make friends and be with the “in-crowd.”  
	The boy gulped.  He began to sweat and try to peer at the black business phone.  He seemed most relieved when the man put the receiver part down, “Hmmm, no answer.” he proclaimed.  A brief reprieve.
	Their eyes met and the boy licked his lip, beads of sweat dotted his young face, he looked hopeful for a better solution.  Security Chief LaFrost wrinkled his nose (his own) and sat back, hands behind his head.
	“This you first time in trouble?” he asked.
	The boy readily nodded that it was.
	The Chief nodded and licked his lips thoughtfully.
	“Well,” he mused, “maybe there’s something we can do instead.”
	There was no way Adam desired to spend the weekend in jail.  His thoughts rested on his parents, they would go ballistic.  He was open for options.   Hmmmmm
	Nervously not knowing exactly what to expect Adam came around the desk.  He raised an eyebrow when the security chief pulled out of a bottom desk drawer a paddle.  It was sleek shiny brown with some holes in the middle and about the size of a small tennis racket.
	The Chief reached for the boy and pulled him towards the awaiting lap.  Semi-reluctantly complied the boy almost tearing up as he lay across the man’s lap.  He was not even that aware of his ass being firstly felt out.
	After a good squeeze of each cheek, the first swat came with a resounding smack.  The boy’s whole young ten year old body shook.  His ass instantly tensed up, toes crinkling, air in his throat holding in horror.  Another swat forced the air out and the boy somewhat choked.  His arms and legs flailed about; his flailing arms were locked behind his back as another swat came, followed by two more that were just as hard as the previous.
	Then, while the hapless boy reeled in being so swatted, the Chief caressed the lad’s ass, very much so squeezing each cheek as well as pressing a strong finger between the legs.
	He was stood up.  He sniveled as he stood, consoling his burning ass.
	The Chief let him be a moment, but locked his eyes upon him, 
	“That covers these,” he said pushing the four music cassettes to one side, “but not these.” he said stacking the three CDs.
	The boy tightened his lips and tried to think clearly while his ass burned.  What did it mean?  what did it mean?
	Not much time was the boy’s ass given in reprieve before he too was given the indication that he should undo and lower his jeans.  The boy took the command in, digested, considered, brought back to the table for more consideration and trying to ascertain just what the fuck it meant.
	After a long couple of moments, the boy gulped.  He knew.  He knew.
	He didn’t believe it, he couldn’t understand it.  He was shocked.  Was the Chief serious?  That was dumb ass question, of COURSE he was fucking serious.  
	“Either deal with me or go to jail and deal with the judge and your parents.”
	Some choice.
	Given that particular choice he undone his jeans and lowered them.
	Once more he was laid across the man’s lap.
	And once more his ass received copious amounts of punishment.

	The usually lily white bum was tomato red.  Chief of Security Daniel LaFrost caressed it, squeezed it, smacked it.  He dug a finger semi roughly if not violently into the lad’s asshole, grappled his fuzzy nads and yanked on them before placing the boy on the desk--his hands and feet cinched tight together with plastic ties.
	His legs were pushed back and the naked dong of the security chief poked and prodded the virgin poop chute.  Young Adam thrashed about on the desk, his ass not only being victimized but harshly smacked when he did so.
	With dire determination, though, the LaFrost made determined anal penetration.  Adam’s eyes bulged, he clenched the desk’s edge and halted breathing as a very large foreign object slid dramatically into his asshole.
	LaFrost, though, did not go fully inward, just the head and a bit more.
	He pulled free and smacked the boy’s already searing ass with his cock, then stood him up.  Again he admired the boy’s wares dangling, he toyed with them, licking his lips hungrily.  He brought the boy into him, hugging him and caressing his blistered ass.   Then, Adam was pushed down to his knees.
	The boy sat on his knees eye-to-cock level.  The massive fuck stick humped his handsome-like face before the tube plunged into his mouth.  Most of the dirt chute prober managed to nicely make entry.  Adam choked, gagged, retched, heaved, and almost vomited.  Almost.
	The Chief fondled the boy’s wares, continuing to caress his burning ass--and brought out of another desk drawer the black box.
	‘Ut-oh.’  Chris slowly and carefully but suredly made for the door.  He heard and saw the warbling.  LaFrost looked around the room as it occurred.  The boy continued sniveling but was calming down.  Chris held firm his position by the door.  Then,
	“Hey!” shouted LaFrost.
	“Gotta go!” Chris blurted and dashed out the door--LaFrost giving quick chase.

                                                     ****

	To thwart thieves or other disasters the store had security doors.  There weren’t a lot of customers in the store and not a lot out in the mall, Chief of Security LaFrost deemed that the store was under assault and hit the panic button--of which brought the two doors at opposite ends of the store closing.
	Chris wasn’t going to make it.  He held fast and looked about then dove into the racks of women’s clothes.  Seemed the logical place to be.  He checked LaFrost, he was pissed.  Security Suits abounded throughout the store and an announcement had to be made to soothe the milling customers.
	Two Suits went to each door then the Chief released the doors to re-open them to the public while the store manager chewed the Chief out.  The Chief blew him off and scoured the store’s interior for Chris.
	Chris didn’t move.
	He couldn’t if he wanted to.  Panic had a way of cementing one’s feet to whatever surface he stood on.  He hunkered down in the clothes, dresses and such and hoped he could wait out the security.
	Presently a pretty little four year old wandered his way, she smiled and looked at him, peeking thru the dresses she smiled and waved her hand.  Chris felt ill, was he invisible or not.  He saw the “on” light on the garage door opener contraption, indicating that the unit was on and functioning.  But maybe just not properly.
	He licked his lips and waved to the little girl.
	She smiled and stood fingering herself like little children like to do before they are scolded by their parents that they aren’t supposed to do such things and then therefore they are branded and warped the rest of their lives.
	Chris had to know, he braved stepping out.  He risked being in the same vicinity as the child, he could no longer see the Suits, he would have to be braver than he was to step out into the main aisle to get a look up to the second floor or the two doors.
	A woman rifling through some clothes he got close to.  Nervously he tapped her on the shoulder.  The woman looked around, looked right at Chris, then continued to look around.  Chris let out his breath--and a narly fart he had been holding back.
	Again the woman wrenched about in horror.  She peeked under clothes and looked as if she had lost something.  (She was NOT the little girl’s mother, though.)
	Chris tempted fate with two other women, one of which WAS the little girl’s mother.  None of them saw him.  He then worried about the security cameras--could the invisibility field shield him from the cameras, too?
	He didn’t know so he ducked back under the clothes and made himself comfortable, noting all feet that came too close.  He was joined by the little girl in a bib-type checkered dress.  She wore a white short sleeve shirt with roses all over it.  It matched her red tinted panties.  Chris didn’t have to do anything (in regards to the Pen) the child was giddy and playfully willing to throw up her dress to expose herself.
	But at four years old they all did that unknowing how much it delighted those they showed off to.  Chris became her friend, exposing himself, too.  Amazingly he got her to play with his cock, his balls, to kiss his cock and balls, and blow raspberries on his belly.
	Chris did likewise unto her.
	Very much did he want to try and fuck her, one hole or the other.  She was kinda young and he would definitely need someplace else to do the dirty deed.
	He occupied her mind with games, managing to keep her quiet and still.  The Pen Flasher had little affect on her but after awhile the affects of the Pen worked--just enough to console her and lull her (into a false sense of security.)
	Presently a “name” was called out over the intercom as well as a store wide announcement to the employees and general public--the description came with the name.  Chris stared at the little girl before him, it was her.  Mandy.

	Mandy rested between Chris’ legs, the announcement for the lost little girl came every fifteen minutes.  Store security and regular mall security and then public security (i.e. the police) came into the store and began a search as well as in the mall and the adjoining parking lot.
	The clothing racks were searched, clothes pulled apart, folks peeking under; several times Chris clutched the child and hoped like anything the “cloaking device” would do its job sufficiently.
	It was unreliable, too.  Mr. Thomas explained that it drew energy from the surrounding atmosphere, that was about all Chris understood on a scientific level--there was more.  It was a compact energy cell that warbled the very air surrounding the person, upsetting it so fast that the person possessing the gadget became “unseen.”
	Mr. Thomas knew that the government was working on such devices, bigger ones to conceal/cloak whole aircraft, tanks, as well as individual peoples.  But society wasn’t quite ready for that, not with such high moral corruption--in the wrong hands the cloaking device would surely destroy the entire planet.
	It was food for thought.
	So Chris waited.
	And waited.
	And waited some more.
	Mandy peed.
	Chris was partially curious and interested in fooling with the child, but also highly concerned for his welfare.  And it was getting late.  Way late.  In another hour it was going to be “too” late.  It was a good half hour ride from the mall to home, and that was going ‘cross country.
	Of course, then there was Mandy.  Did he really intend on keeping her?  Could he?  Harold wouldn’t care, but what about his dad?  Suzie wouldn’t care, she’d love to have a playmate?  But then what about Suzie’s friend, Shelly?
	One thing led to another.
	Chris fumed, he should have just pushed Mandy back out into the world to be found, now he was saddled with her.  He hated the position he had put himself in, and whiling away time hiding was a bitch, too.  And he, and Mandy, were getting hungry.
	The store closed at seven, it was currently six.  
	Looking out and about curiously, cautiously, mindfully, Chris saw the Security Suits at the far end of the store in a gaggle.  LaFrost was no where to be seen.  Could LaFrost have a gadget like the cloaker?  Chris agonized, he needed to pee, too.  He needed food and a way out.
	Topside on the mezzanine LaFrost was in convo with a janitor.
	After a moment the old black man shuffled on his way, LaFrost leaned on the railing looking out into the store.  Chris checked the door to the mall.  He could easily abandon Mandy, she would be dead weight anyways and unable to give any clear description of her “hiding” friend.
	LaFrost didn’t have a clear description of him, either.
	Chris waved to the man.
	LaFrost stared at his gaggling staff, he didn’t look to happy.
	Mandy moved a bit and almost whined out loud as she was getting hungry and sleepy and missing her mommy.  Chris still debated absconding away with her.  But he would need to bring her before his dad to show his alibi.  Mandy was cute enough that maybe the tardy issue wouldn’t be brought up.
	Daringly Chris waved madly with both hands.
	LaFrost continued to lean against the mezzanine railing, folding his arms and watching his staff lingering at the exit door to the outside parking area.  At length one of the Staff took note and sheepishly the men broke up their “meeting” and began dispersing throughout the store once more.
	Chris unzipped and hauled out his cock and began to jack off.
	Still nothing.
	He turned about and bent over--spreading his cheeks.
	Nothing still.
	He faced a young woman coming down the small aisle, his pants and underwear at his ankles, cock semi hard.  She looked right at him, RIGHT AT HIM.  She didn’t bat an eye.
	He zapped her.
	He had to.
	He pushed himself against her and angled her out of camera sight, he hoped, and pushed her into the mass of clothes.  Here he did lower her panties and find solace in between her legs.  Just a quickie, just for a quick relief.  Her ass was smooth and soft and he enjoyed it, his cock did, too.  Up against the cool flesh his cock did linger, it soon demanded either stuff a hole or fuck off.
	The woman’s asshole was available, so in a standing position he nailed her therein.  He pumped and pumped, strained and drove as deep as possible.  Her hole was not exactly a “tight fit” but it was suitable.  
	He didn’t cum, he tried.  He was either empty or his cum juice production plant was on strike.  The “feeling” was still there and that was about all that mattered.  

	The thing about small town country living, the sidewalks roll up a sundown.  There’s other things more important than shopping--well, almost.  Baseball, little leaguers, socials, meeting down at the grange hall, church doings, family doings (the regular kind), and so on and so forth like that there.  Inside the Cartersville Mall it was like Deadsville.  Most of the 25 various stores had already rolled their doors closed, although there still thirty minutes on the clock before actual closing.
	To appease Mandy Chris--still basically invisible, and since clutching Mandy to his body--she, too, was render unseen by all, Chris grabbed some corndogs, fries and a soda.  Mandy still sorta kinda wondered about her mother, but Chris and his “magic” managed nicely to subdue her enough to keep her mind elsewhere.
	Noting the phone kiosk Chris considered placing an earnest call, it was 6:30, he was some two hours late getting home; an hour late was one thing, more than that was just an invitation to troubles.
	It was a bit o’ troubles holding Mandy firmly to him while dropping the coins into the slot and phoning home.  His dad answered the phone and was already pissed.
	He listened to his son’s explanation and offered to come fetch.
	“Okay, corner of Elm and 3rd.”
	It would be a few minutes, Chris slowly and easily and sly scooted out of the mall and to the corner he had told his dad to pick him up.  It would be a bitch to tote his ass back home with Mandy riding with him.  There were now third thoughts about keeping the little girl.  What was he thinking?  “I’ve got an “attachment” with me.” Chris had told his dad, his dad understood the unsaid statement.  Chris, though, had failed to make mention the “age” of the “attachment.”  It was one thing to make merry with the likes of Suzie and Shelly, but could the Old Man do such unto the likes of Mandy?
	Chris moved across the vacant parking lot along the lee side of the mall, Mandy on the bike itself, her hand in his.  So far as he knew they were both still virtually invisible to sight.  No adverse side effects effected him, he was a little dizzy but he attested that to being hungry.  The corndogs were okay, but more sustenance was desired.	
	A flash, though, did occur halting his progress.
	Chris paused and looked around.  The parking lot was virtually empty.  Virtually.  A non-descript van was parked by a loading dock and security door.  Chris popped his neck, Mandy fidgeted some, and Daniel LaFrost exited the building.
	LaFrost carried with him a gym bag.  A BIG gym he seemed to be actually lugging.  Chris was interested, intrigued, damn curious.  Slowly, very damn slowly Chris made his way.   
	LaFrost opened the sliding side door and tossed into the van the gym bag.  He looked around himself and still didn’t look too happy.  He cracked his fingers then closed the door.  A flash in Chris gave him possible insight as to what was in the gym bag.
	Ten year old Adam Jones.

	Chris slid into the seat; his father giving him a LONG look:  “What the fuck?” on his mind.
	“Long story, dad,” Chris started to explain, “but not right now.” he seemed hurried and anxious.  He looked off to the empty mall parking lot across the street and observed LaFrost’s van leaving the area.
	“Follow that van!” Chris said.
	“Why?” his dad wanted to know.
	Chris gulped, “Like I said, dad, it-it’s a long story, I-I’ll explain on our way.”
	Carl Mitchell sighed, shook his head and fell in line behind the van.

	“Not too close!” Chris bitched.  His dad gave him another look but wisely backed of pursuit, changed lanes and slowed even more.  The problem was, though, that soon the road they traveled would lead out of town, opposite of the road to the Mitchell home.  Carl would have to fall back behind the van and follow not so close.
	Thankfully there was light traffic.  Which of course bothered both Chris and Carl as the van’s driver would surely notice the same van from the streets of downtown Cartersville.  The van continued on a steady pace but after topping a long hill, and the Mitchell family truck likewise--the van was gone.  There was no other vehicles down the lane.
	“He turned off.” Carl made mention.  He pulled off but kept the engine running.  Chris looked around, he wasn’t so familiar with the end area of town.  
	Carl was about to make a “U” turn and boogy back home; when Chris received a “flash” in his mind.  He looked out the front windshield squinting and then out his side of the passenger side window.
	On his son’s insistence Carl moved the truck down the road a bit more, pulling off again and parking in the woods to be somewhat unseen from the road.  Chris got out of the truck and paused, closing his eyes and relaxing, not thinking hard just lightly going at it.
	He saw a road.  A dirt road.  Trees.  Boulders.  A small clearing.  The clearing was not “clear”, it had--an old trailer, rusting heavy equipment earth movers of different types, and some seatrains.
	The “scene” in his mind slipped away--leaving Chris with a bit of headache and nosebleed.  Carl stepped around carrying Mandy.  The sun was sinking low, an owl hooted from somewhere in the forest.  The woods were thick on both sides of the road, the area was fairly remote, camping was somewhere, horsetrails meandered somewhere deep within, but there wasn’t much at all that Carl knew of.  Edison Lake was twenty miles further, it was the only draw in the area.
	Chris stepped up a small hill nearby, he received no more info, though.  Mandy had squatted for another pee; Carl held her panties while she did so.  Chris paused a moment, but there was nothing.  ‘Damn.’ he said to himself.  
	“So whattya wanna do?” Carl asked coming up behind carrying Mandy.
	Chris shrugged.  He had told his dad some of the story so there was some mild interest from the farmer.  “He had to have turned off, son.” Carl told him, “We weren’t that far behind and the road here is straight.”
	Chris understood that, but where--where had LaFrost turned off?
	Not wanting to give themselves away, in case the man was waiting just inside the woods, Chris and his dad, with Mandy, too, eased into the woods and slinked about.  

	A dirt road they did come to.  It was ill used but Carl noted evidence of recent use, very recent.  The road was hard to see from the road.  He made some scout marks to keep them true and returned to the forest, keeping the road in sight.
	Half a mile later they came unto a clearing, large bulldozers were here, a great earthmover, and other assorted heavy equipment.  Though they appeared to be rusting away Carl noted that they were capable of life.
	The van of Daniel LaFrost was present, too, it’s side door opened.
	No light on in the trailer parked by a large dirt mound.
	There WAS a light from a slight incline as if something akin to an underground garage (or living quarters.)  The thing was, though, they would have to leave the sanctity of the woods to cross the open area to reach the area in question.
	It would be difficult even from a passing aircraft above to see into the clearing, the trees gave it great seclusion.  And nightfall was coming on quick.  
	They made for one of the three seatrains, they were closed if not rusted shut but got them a little closer to their destination.  They waited a moment and then a moment longer before dashing right to the berm area of where it appeared a seatrain had been pushed to be buried.
	It was not a snug fit, there was space all around.
	Light was on one side.
	Building materials were scattered all about that gave the makings of creating a major garage door.  Chris and his dad (with Mandy, still) scurried to a debris pile and then down the slope to the seatrain.
	Chris held fast, thinking.
	His dad was aware of the Pen Flasher and its abilities, not so aware of the other associative gadget.  Invisibility was a hard concept to fathom if not believe.  And it was not without its problems or vulnerabilities.  
	No noises of any sort or kind were heard.
	All was quiet save for the hoot owl in the woods beyond.
	It was getting a little cooler, too.
	Chris whispered to his dad to hold onto him, thereafter they carefully-carefully/stealthfully crept to the long side of the buried seatrain.  Outside chairs were present, outdoor lights embedded into the earth, a generator, propane tanks, entrenching tools, a garbage can, and other assorted “camping” stuff scattered about in a so-so manner.
	A handmade “door” was in the side of the seatrain, it was opened.
	A heavy black chain curtain was just inside.
	Carl held back, holding his son, too.  This was getting a little dangerous.  Chris agreed.  But his curiosity was beyond compromise.
	There was sudden movement from within.  Someone was sniveling.
	“MOVE!” came a shout, LaFrost’s voice loud and clear.
	He seemed to move right across their path as they still remained just outside the cargo container.  Carl was curious, sure, but not stupid.  He wanted to go and wanted Chris to “go”, too.
	Chris wanted to know what was going on.  Someone like LaFrost could be a great asset, an alley.  Mostly, though, it was just damned curiosity.  Bringing his father along was sort of a drag, he would have preferred to be on his own--but by the speed of the van in conjunction to Chris’ bike--no contest and he would have never even gotten this far before saying, “Fuck it!” and peddled home.
	“We’ve come this far!” he wailed.
	Carl was more sensible and shifted Mandy to his other hip.
	“You don’t know what you’re getting into!” he returned.
	Suddenly there was a familiar sound to the both of them.
	A swat.  A loud resounding swat.
	Their interests were piqued and as stealthily as possible they did so steal into the seatrain.

                                                     ****

	There seemed to be “rooms” in the large metal container, more to the point--dungeon cells.  Most had bars or heavy black chain curtains serving as doors.  Peeking cautiously and curiously into one.  A boy about 12 or so was butt bare ass naked tied securely via restraints to wrists and ankles to an inverted chair.  The back of his legs, thighs, and especially his ass was redder than a vine ripened tomato.
	The boy was not alone, a naked man holding a riding croup stood with a massive erection.  He seemed a little dazed, glassy-eyed.  He was hairless, too--from head to toe, no hair whatsoever.
	The riding croup was dropped and the hairless man stepped up, parted the boy’s cheeks (who was still alive and thrashing about some) and promptly entered him and began a steady bout of sodomy.
	In another room, same side, a teenage girl was strapped down to a bare mattress while a woman with long flowing red hair sat on her face, working an electrified dildo into the young girl’s poon.
	Continuing on, they came to a large room that was very dimly illuminated.  It was a room larger than the previous, actually encompassing the dimensions of the previous dungeon cells without the dividing wall.
	There was no door, it was open save for the same type of heavy black chain curtain; there were two of them here, though, concealing the “split” in the middle.  There was something going on within and Chris wanted to know what.  His dad, however, wanted to leave.
	It wasn’t easy, it was painstaking, it was meticulous work to find a manner of which to sneak into the large dim lit room.  It was cool, but there was no air movement.  There was a bit of a funky smell, an odor, lingering in the still air.  Noises of spankings, gruntings, cryings, and other assorted human-like wailings could be heard--but none of those noises were from the great room.
	After their eyes adjusted they could see a bit better; the lighting, too, had been upgraded.  This allowed the Mitchell family (plus one) could see a man sitting in a chair.  It was a simple wooden chair, stoutly constructed and braced against a steel wall.  The man appeared to be secured to the wall; he was balding and possibly in his early to mid 50s.  He had a bit of a beard and seemed to be a professional, an office worker of some type rather than hard labor.
	He was clothed.
	There was someone else in the room, too.  A young girl.  She was dark haired and sniveling some.  She appeared to be about 10ish (but was actually 12, just ultra slender and easily passed for ten.)  Long dark hair, slight Italian features, short pink & white stripped pants to the knees, a blue denim sleeveless top.  She didn’t have much in the titty department.  She seemed unrestrained--as was actually the man who stood up when out of the gloom of darkness to one side came a figure.  LaFrost!

	LaFrost was in a dark cloak that concealed his body.  He had in his hand a 16 inch long wand (security wand type), the black box was not seen but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t there.
	“Stand up!” spoke LaFrost upon his entrance.
	“You will do as you are told--or face the consequence!”  There was movement from LaFrost--his hand inside a pocket doing something.  Instantly the middle aged man fell to the floor freaking out, grabbing at something around his throat and attempting to call out.
	The young girl made a dash to his rescue but she then fell to the floor and did likewise.
	LaFrost pulled out of a cloak pocket a small handheld device.  It had some buttons on it.  He depressed one and the two on the floor stopped freaking out.  They panted and took moments to regain their composure, thankful that it was over.  For now.
	The point was made, “Do as you are told, DON’T PISS ME OFF!”
	The man nodded, the girl nodded.
	“Good.” then, “The sooner you comply with my wishes, the sooner you can leave.”
	As the man and girl stood up Chris so noted a collar about their necks.  Any information further to be gleaned would have to be from an up close and personal viewing--and that just wasn’t gonna happen just yet.
	The girl was pushed back to just where the light met the darkness, ten feet from where the man struggled to stand.
	“You son-of-a-bitch!” bitched the man.
	“Yes, I know.” smiled and nodded LaFrost.  Then, “Take off your clothes.”
	To wit the man, “John” gave a surprised look and a head shake in the negative.  “No way!” he proclaimed.  Not in front of his granddaughter, “Jolene.”
	“That’s too bad.” replied LaFrost, he smiled not but only glared at the defiant grandfather, then depressed a button on his handheld device similar to a garage door opener.  
	John did not wallow on the floor this time, only his precious granddaughter.  She screamed until she couldn’t scream no more.
	“Ok-ok!” yelled John.  He made a drastic charge to the cloaked demon, but was struck down by the same manner as Jolene as well as “touched” by the wand.  The wand administered loads of electrical power that caused the man to convulse and wriggle his whole body.
	LaFrost released him and knelt before him, “Do that again, friend,” he breathed sullenly, “and I’ll give the same treatment to her!” then, “Do you fucking understand me?”
	John nodded his head, convulsed, and vomited.

	Slowly, still reeling from the effects of the electrical torture, the 50-something year old man stood and stripped off his clothing--down to his boxers anyways.  His granddaughter tried not to look but was told to do so by the cloaked one.
	A long stare from LaFrost prompted John to complete the insane task, sliding his green stripped boxers down to his ankles and then standing up straight, hands to his side.
	“Sit down.” said LaFrost.
	John peeked back to see where the chair was and sat.  He closed his knees and waited to see if that was okay--so far it was.  Attention then was taken to the girl, “Take off YOU’RE clothes.”
	To wit the young girl very nearly received the same torture as had her grandpa.  She wailed and cringed, crossed her legs and begged.  John pleaded with her to do as the “son-of-a-bitch” says.  No reaction from LaFrost, the girl calmed herself some.  Chris wondered to himself should he intervene--and to whom?  John, the granddaughter, LaFrost?
	Jolene slipped off her top, squeezed her eyes tight and unhitched her britches.  Slowly they were tugged down, the girl stooping over, cringing and crying some.  Chris moved his head, got a little dizzy, and took notice of a red light, a very small-small minute light in a dark recess of the room.
	He concentrated, focused, and got a nosebleed but determined that the light was an indicator light--from a video system.  There were others in the room, too--on the ceiling and “corners.”
	The floor was steel, but layered with mixmatched pieces of rugs and carpets.  No noises there was, no air movement, just silent crying.  Jolene stood in her pink kiddie panties.  She looked almost frail but wasn’t, just a skinny kid.  She had a halter posing as a trainer for the two lumps on her chest.  Due to the dim light, seeing exactness of body features was a no-go.
	A moment lingered listlessly before a long cold hard stare from the Cloaked One prompted Jolene to lower her panties, too.  She trembled as she did so, blinking her eyes and sniveling.
	“Excellent!” proclaimed LaFrost.  “Now, come sit on your grandfather’s lap!”  sitting on her grandfather’s lap was okay, but when they were clothed.  Doing so while they were both naked was out of the question.
	The sound of the electrical wand and the showing of the other pain inflictor changed their mind with John reaching out for his distraught granddaughter, “Come on, come on.” he said to her.
	Semi-reluctantly Jolene approached her nude grandfather.  His legs remained closed, Jolene concealing her own nudity with her hands before her.  She had to pass by in close proximity to the Cloaked One, as she did so she tried to hurry her steps and bring her hands behind her as most children do when they are going to get spanked.  But the quickness of the demon was too fast and he brought the wand to her bare ass.  
	Jolene jolted, screamed and raced to the loving protective arms of her grandpa.  He consoled then glared to their captor.  No reaction from him, though.  He “allowed” the consoling, for a moment or two, then continued.
	“Sit on his lap.” LaFrost said (again).
	Timidly the naked Jolene did so.
	Their captor smiled shaking his head, “No,” wavering his finger, “straddle him.” which meant his legs about his waist.
	Slowly Jolene complied, no longer crying or carrying on, just light sniveling.  Her grandpa was frightened and pissed off.  He helped his granddaughter position herself on his lap, her long tan legs about his waist as he sat on the armless wooden chair.
	LaFrost nodded his head and said, “Good, continue doing so (the consoling) cup her butt while you’re at it.”
	Cupping a young person’s butt while clothed was one thing, and generally due to the paranoia of the general masses it wasn’t done that much at all lest one be investigated for molesting said child.  But cupping a young person’s butt while naked!
	And it didn’t take long before something began to happen.
	John fidgeted, gulped, and began to sweat--his hands caressing Jolene’s lovely young ass.  “Keep it up.” minded the Cloaked One.  John did so but lo he did not want to.
	“Work your fingers in her crack.”
	The statement was a harsh one, John’s eyes bulged and his mouth dropped.  “You son-of-a-bitch!” he called out.
	“Yes, yes, you’ve made that clear now.” smirked LaFrost.
	Fearing the man’s wrath John cupped a little more of his trembling granddaughter’s ass, his fingers probing the child’s crack.  Jolene trembled more and more, clutching her grandpa tightly as she was fondled extraordinarily so.
	This only prompted the problem.  John’s problem.
	“Sit up, sit back.” came the command from the Cloaked One.
	And, “Sit back.” to Jolene.
	The two complied.
	A moment was left lingering, but there it was--John’s johnny, standing up proud and ready.  
	“Sweetie,” said LaFrost, obviously speaking to Jolene, “take your grandpa’s cock and please him.”
	John very nearly came off of the chair and Jolene freaked out on his lap.  The horror of the deed was beyond belief.  The Cloaked One was serious and stared the two down.  John gulped, Jolene shook and was greatly fearful.
	John had to continue cupping Jolene’s ass, lightly fingering her asshole.  Jolene gulped and almost broke into a flurry of tears, but under cooing from her grandpa, she gripped the mighty manly cock and squeezed it with her hand.
	John seemed to try and think of something else, to occupy his mind with something more than having his cock squeezed by his lovely young granddaughter.
	He wasn’t having much luck.
	Then it went a step more.
	“Rub it up against her pussy.” came the horrid command.
	John very nearly risked being electrocuted, tortured via; he couldn’t, he just couldn’t comply with taking his hard cock against his granddaughter’s virgin pussy.  He shuddered and shook all over in defiance.
	But not wanting his granddaughter to suffer physically he clenched himself and pressed the bulbous tip of his prick against Jolene’s tender slit.  His eyes fluttered, he sweated all over and battle within himself for the hellish deed.  He was angered at being forced into such a heinous ordeal.  Try as he might he couldn’t squelch his hard cock; the situation was horrid and beyond belief, the nakedness of his granddaughter on his lap overpowered his moralistic mind.  Regardless of age, regardless of relationship, the presence of a nude body provoked the hardness of his manhood.
	“Cum on her pussy!” came the next horrendous command.
	John about lost it.  And though lo Jolene was too young to know exactly too much about sex and all that was connected with it--she understood just by nature what “cum” meant--AND what “cum on her pussy” meant.
	She stopped jerking her grandpa’s cock, she squeezed and was horrified into awe.
	“Cum on her pussy and you will be one step closer to being free.”
	“You son-of-a-bitch!” John called.
	“Yes-yes,” grumbled LaFrost, “you’ve made it abundantly clear now, that’s enough.” and to make the point the gave John a little “shock.”
	After recovery, Jolene once more had to stroke-grip her grandpa’s cock while he fondled her ass and lightly fingered her asshole.  He had to look down to her handiwork and stare at her little pussy that was just beginning to be layered in peach fuzz.  A finger of John’s was commissioned to go up and down the girl’s pussy--further enticing his cock to become quite strong.
	The command to “cum on her pussy” was repeated.  Jolene did her best, clenching his cock and jacking him like she knew how--but she didn’t.  She had natural technique and that was something.	 John had to lean back, Jolene leaned back and John took over cumming off, spilling his seed onto his lovely granddaughter’s cunt.
	When all the cum had come there was the task of rubbing the cock head in the spilled splooge, gliding up and down Jolene’s entrance.  John waited, staring down at Jolene’s cunt and the mess.  Waiting.
	He didn’t have to wait long.
	“Stand up.” said the Cloaked One, indicating to Jolene.
	Trembling, sniveling, her young mind totally bombastically frapped.
	“Turn around.” 
	Jolene complied.
	John set back some, continuing to massage his organ, very much distressed over the entire incident.  But there was more.  Much more.  So much more.
	The command from the established Son-of-a-Bitch came, again still for Jolene.  She bent over, one hand spreading her ass while the other supported her on her knee.
	John eyeballed her asshole.
	He gulped and his cock “surged.”
	He shook his head.  There were a couple of possibles he faced.  He desired neither one.
	“Lick it, stick it, fuck it.” came his command.  But it was options, he could lick Jolene’s asshole with his tongue, stick it with his finger, or simply FUCK it with his dick.
	“If you don’t do any--” said LaFrost, he produced from the folds of his grayish cloak a sleek black object--it was perhaps 8-10 inches in length with a three inch diameter.  John got the point, if he himself didn’t lick, stick, or fuck it--then the tormenting SOB was gonna cram the sleek cylinder dildo up Jolene’s virgin asshole.
	To further instill promptness in carrying out commands given, the Cloaked One revealed another aspect to the new presenting object, it shimmered, shook, vibrated, and a bluish arch wavered over the entire thing.  It was electrified.
	John went to his knees and sized up Jolene’s hole for a second or two, gulped, shook his head and then applied tongue--he felt that it was the least insidious of the three choices.
	After several minutes of good anal jobbing, Jolene was commanded to go sit where she had been earlier.   John to sit back in his chair (legs open).  His cock was mighty hard, mighty hard.  John began to make quotes from the Bible, cursings, damnations, and callings to God.
	None of this worried LaFrost.  He let John ramble on, he had Jolene sit on the floor, legs open, back against a wall, and finger herself.  She was asked if she knew how, how to masturbate.
	She nodded that she did.
	LaFrost’s interest was held and he focused on the young distraught girl. “How old were you when you first started fingering yourself?”
	Jolene couldn’t remember.  Her fingers wildly complied with the earlier command--to finger herself, but to answer questions under the circumstances was impossible.
	“Have you’ve been naughty with a boy?”
	Jolene lost all color in her young face.  She stopped masturbating, too.  She blinked and stared, mouth open.
	“Leave her alone!” shouted John and he jumped up quick like lunging at LaFrost.
	LaFrost backhanded him with the electric flat wand.  It was charged and sent John sprawling, crashing into the chair and wall.  He lay trembling on the floor a moment trying to recover quickly.  The SOB walked over and touched him with the wand then activated the Pain Inducer.

	His fingers clutched at the neck collar about his neck, it was too strong and he could not remove it.
	“Do that again, friend,” cautioned LaFrost kneeling down before the flustered 56 year old naked man withering on the floor, “and I’ll zap your little honey--THEN, cram this (indicating the enormous sleek black electrifying dildo) up her cunt!” and he was serious.
	John nodded.  There would be no more “attacks.”
	
                                             *****

	There was something odd about LaFrost  (no kidding!)  Chris debated with himself whether to make introductions, someplace else--like in a public setting not someplace remote like the buried/conceal seatrain.  LaFrost had potential, but there was a dangerous side to the man; unlike Mr. Thomas.  Though Thomas seemed cordial enough, he had a dark side to him, too; but not to the degree (or so far as Chris was aware) that LaFrost was.
	Those spied on in Olde Town Cartersville were okay, not dangerous or quirky, enjoying fooling around and being happy in their sexually immoral environment.
	Daniel LaFrost’s environment was something else.
	Young Jolene frigged her young pussy, confessing that she had done so since age ten, she had finally fessed up to the question from the Cloaked One, “Have you been naughty with boys?”
	“A little.” she said on trembling lips.
	“To what degree?” he asked.
	Jolene didn’t understand that.
	“What have you done that was naughty, with the boys?”
	She held back a moment, gulped, sweated, paused fingering her cum laden snatch and began to weep.  She bit her lip and really didn’t want to confess, especially with her grandfather present.
	But the situation was one of compliance--comply or suffer.
	“Darrel Chesser--” she said still on trembling lips, “and Gary Wayne.”
	“And?”
	“And--and we sometimes do stuff.”
	“Stuff?  Explain?”
	Jolene pursed her lips together gulped and stared at the end of her feet, she looked up to the ceiling and at last blurted, “we sometimes go swimming without our clothes on!”
	She wept and was in tears at the confession.
	“Hmmmm, anything “else” happen while swimming naked?  Any other BOYS involved, girls?”
	Poor Jolene wasn’t having an easy time.  It further prompted Chris to debate with himself as to whether he should help her out, calm her and allow her to confess without the emotional side effects.
	“We-we sometimes touch each other, sometimes.”
	“Oh?” LaFrost was highly intrigued, his full attention was on the young confessing girl.  John sat unemotional on the floor against the steel wall, it wasn’t clear if he was hearing his granddaughter’s confession or still wracked with pains from the previous incursion.
	Jolene confessed to touching the boys’ pee-pees, stroking them and clutching their hairless testicle sacks.  The boys in turn “touched” her, their fingers up against her most holy of holies.  They all touched one anothers butt and watched how they peed.  The boys masturbated in front of her and Jolene showed the boys how she did so.
	No sucking or penetrations.
	No anal stuff, not even viewing.
	No rough stuff, no sex, nothing more than simple kid stuff.
	No other girls involved, either.
	LaFrost’s curiosity was satiated, he returned his attention to John.
	John waited, he seemed to be a little out of it.  His head lolled, his eyes semi-glazed over, his cock ultra soft.  He seemed to be babbling.  LaFrost approached and knelt down.  Nothing was said.  The quick lightning reflexes of John Hursh was amazing--catching not only LaFrost off guard but the unseen spies, too.
	Unfortunately John lacked sufficient strength to complete the task of overpowering his tormentor.  And his nut sack took the brunt of the reply.  LaFrost had been grappled to the floor and the two were locked in a deadly combat posture.  For about two minutes.  Then a hard knee made contact with John’s exposed and very vulnerable testes.
	Another connection and John lost the will to fight.
	The electric wand also played its hand.  John wallowed on the floor and LaFrost scrambled to regain his stance of domination.
	“That was very foolish!” LaFrost warned.  He breathed hard and it seemed though the assault was quick it had had some damaging effects on the SOB.  He popped his neck and his hands disappeared inside the folds of his cloak.
	“Very foolish.” he said and stepped into the darkness of the shadows.
	Chris and his father thought that this would be a good fucking time to scat.  Little Mandy had gone to sleep, she had made a “puddle” on the floor and was sound to sleep.
	The two were about to make a hasty retreat when LaFrost made a reappearance.  He was not alone.  The nude woman and man from the adjoining “cells” came with.  The woman was now clad in dominatrix attire, black leather with steel studs, her ass, crotch, and 38Cs were exposed.  She was a red head and had her hair tight in a long butt length braided pony tail.
	No shoes, no jewelry; no tattoos or blemishes.  She was like a perfectly sculpted body.  She moved to John and easily manhandled him to a standing position.  The electrical charge from LaFrost had been an intense one and it left John totally drained.  The woman pressed her body against John, pressing him against the steel wall.  Then his hands were shackled above his head.
	His ankles were spread out and shackled as well, all attached to the wall.  “You were warned.” said LaFrost.
	John came awake when he saw the 2nd man moving to Jolene.
	“NO!” he screamed out.
	The woman brought her steel leather studded knee to John’s balls.
	John wrestled on the shackles and lost all color.
	Jolene screamed and was grabbled with harshly and brought before LaFrost.  He stood looking down to her and moved the folds of his cloak--to expose his 7-inch cock!  He stroked it lovingly, smiling--gleaming down to the little one.
	“Suck me.” he commanded.
	Jolene choked and shook her head, her eyes full of horror and fright.
	Her attention was directed to her grandfather who rattled his shackles as the “mistress” pummeled his balls (again) and then racked a black glove down his chest.  It was an electrified glove and John was having about all he could take of the electrical torture.
	Jolene gulped, wailed and opened her lips.
	The man holding her secure held her hair tight as well as her hands behind her pretty little head.  He was nude, save for black leather shorts, only exposing his private area and ass cheeks.  A strange leather vest he wore, it was zippered in the front but “ripped” along the sides.  And like the mistress, he wore no jewelry or any other sort of ornaments.
	LaFrost made no movements, it was Jolene who had to ultimately comply.  It took her several moments of lingering, bawling, sniveling and all sorts of manners as such before her young lips touched the knob of LaFrost.
	Chris curiously wondered where the boy and little girl were, Charlene and Adam?  Had they been killed and their bodies dumped, or were they in the “dungeon” somewhere?
	Jolene sucked on the head of her tormentor, still crying.  The second demonic man began pushing her head down on the elongated schlong, working her head back and forth until most of it was indeed inside her.
	“Bring me her hands.” LaFrost said, he moved the cloak about to whereas it revealed his nude body.  Jolene had the deplorable task of rubbing her hands onto the man’s naked ass.  LaFrost then began seriously working himself into the girl’s mouth.
	Chris had his own pud out, lightly stroking.  Sure the situation was insane and possibly out of control, but there was the sexual stimulation content, too.  And he noticed that his dad had HIS cock out, rubbing it up between the sleeping Mandy’s pussy.
	When to the point of which young Jolene was seriously choking and gagging on the seven inch cock in her mouth, the Spawn of Satan pulled out and fucked the girl’s face.  Her grandfather agonized and no longer reacted to the electrical glove from the mistress.
	Jolene’s torment was just to begin.
	The second man flipped the girl about so as she was locked under his arms.  She kicked and wailed anticipating abuse to her ass.  She tried flailing with her arms and finally latched onto the second man’s bare ass flesh.  He screamed out in some pain, but found pleasure in the deed as well.
	He held her tighter and LaFrost made rough anal penetration.
	Jolene’s grandfather hung his head and wept.
	LaFrost plunged his seven inch rod in as far as it would go, pumped vigorously then pulled out to spank the girl’s ass.  He reinserted and pumped madly for several seconds if not a long enduring minute.  He withdrew and stood a moment not doing anything.
	“Fuck her.” he said at last.  The man holding Jolene securely smiled and nodded.  “Yes, Master,” he said in a strange gothic voice, “by your command.”
	The mistress waltzed over and took over holding the child securely, by now most of the fight was out of her and she was as limp as a dish rag.  The Lackey paid no attention to his bleeding wound on his ass cheek.  He came about to the girl’s bleeding asshole and sized it up.  He stood and stroked his own schlong--which was a peculiar one that was now seen better than it had before.  It looked like a dick, it was hard and straight--but actually resembled something like one of those sleek dildos.  It was an off-white color and then Chris saw a bluish arch going up and down the seven inch member.  He shook his head in disbelief and wacthed as the “cock” then was plunged into the child anus.

	 She lay in a crumbled heap on the floor after several enduring moments of sodomy.  The man pulled out and spanked her ass and stroked the cock was indeed a fake cock.  (This was discovered as the Mistress removed the cock and slipped it into her cunny.  The man’s own biological cock was a dinky thing, it was hard and no more than four inches!)
	LaFrost, the obvious Spawn of Satan, stepped over to the “heap.”  is cock was still rigid, very rigid.  It gave cause for Chris to wonder if it was real or fake or what.  The man angled his cock and then stared at the wall a moment, seconds later and he began to pee, showering the nude lifeless body before him.
	Jolene was not dead, however, Chris wasn’t into that sort, that was going a bit too far.  The Mistress and Lackey picked the child up and held her bent over.  The Lackey patted her ass and LaFrost again disappeared into the darkness.
	There was more of the floorshow and beings as how so much of it had been observed so far, no use bugging out--Chris and his dad continued to stay put; Carl having ejaculated onto Mandy’s little pussy.
	LaFrost returned with a partially clad 14 year old girl.
	She was in panties and a halter, dark hair all messed up, some “red marks” on her shoulders.  She looked scared and frightened.  Short cropped dark hair, small hand sized breasts, and for fourteen she was kinda tall.  She was escorted to John.
	Seeing John shackled as he was caused the young teen to convulse some.  She had yet to see the crumbled heap of flesh behind her.  The cloak of LaFrost no longer concealed his cock.  And Chris, after seeing the second man’s cock assemblage wandered if it were real.  
	“You may continue.” said LaFrost.
	The girl shook and looked nervously about.  John languished in his shackles but came around enough to see the teen.  He could not see his granddaughter and possibly thought that she was ultimately dead.  He weeped some, he was broken.
	The teenage captive, Amber Vinteneur, slowly slid her panties down.
	She was horrified and didn’t quite comprehend fully just what was going on.  She stepped out of the yellow stripped bikini undies and stood up.  Her top was still on, just a halter.
	“Suck him.” the cold mono voice of the Cloaked One said.
	The girl balked some, but she nodded her head.  Her eyes darted about but she dared not look behind her or be too curious about her surroundings.  She knelt down and stared at John’s languishing willy.
	Her face then screwed up and she lost control, “Why are you doing this?” she bellowed.
	Then, from LaFrost, “Because I can.”
	“Who are you?” inquired the tormented John.
	“You’re worst nightmare, John.” said the Spawn of Satan, the first time--that Chris was aware of, that “John” had been addressed.
	“It’s been a long time, John,” LaFrost continued, “I’m not surprised you don’t remember me.  But I remember you.” ah, then this was about revenge.  A little over done, doncha think?