Tombstone (7 page)

With the sounds in her ears, she could not even concentrate or consider her debasing performance.
 
Her body felt electrified, and when a hand stroked over her breasts she pressed her tight nipples against his palms, craving one soft touch, a gentle caress of appreciation.
 
Sharp pain radiated through her tips as his fingers twisted and pinched.
 
Instinctively, Claudine understood that this man would never reward her demands, and her mind echoed with her desperate moan.

Over the course of weeks, Strickland’s voice joined with the white static and Claudine was no longer taunted by his words.
 
In her dark rubber mask she waited, slowly following the length of the pipe, memorizing the steps until she bumped into her encasing wooden bed, feeling the stones from the bathroom under her bare feet, praying strong hands would stop her pacing and guide her to eat or lead her to the other room and once more quench the dripping desire between her thighs.

She had been fitted with a molded top that covered her fingertips, sealed to her mask, and ended just below her waist.
 
The material was much stiffer than the rubber of her mask.
 
Her breasts chilled in the air, exposed and squeezed through holes that were purposely cut a little too small, forcing her large mounds to project lewdly.
 
Claudine imagined they looked magnificent, and she rubbed them against the man whenever he was near.
 
He would slam them together between his palms, twist her nipples, or slap them until they reddened.
 
Although she knew he would torment them, she continued to try to coax his attention.

Her wrists were unlocked when he pulled on her top, sliding first her arms through the sleeves and working her breasts through the openings.
 
It closed in the back with a sealing, permanent, adhesive.
 
Within a few days she had matching pants, with a gaping slice in the crotch.
 
She barely remembered the burn of the cream permanently denuding her labia.
 
Her feet were covered, with each toe fitting into its own custom pocket and a spiked heel permanently affixed to the back.
 
It too was made out of rubber, and widened to a non-lethal flange on the bottom.

Claudine shivered when she felt the man lean her over the table.
 
Please god, yes.
 
The time spent blindfolded into darkness with only Donald’s echoing words to accompany this madness, had caused her to desperately desire the man’s infrequent touches.
 
Claudine could practically feel his cock driving into her, and her pussy was dripping and ready.

Instead, the man slid cool gel into her ass, and she froze.
 
This was something Claudine had never allowed, and she wiggled her bottom angrily.
 
When a finger brushed her clit she pushed into it, rubbing and exciting herself while the forgotten finger plunged into her ass.
 
With her senses dulled for so long, any touch on uncovered skin seemed magnified.
 
Claudine was sexually peaked constantly, begging for the man to touch her.

There was a stretching, impossibly wide against her puckered hole, and Claudine concentrated on her pussy’s search for the finger and the nerve tingling sensation against her clit.
 
She rubbed against the elusive hand, frustrated and searching while his cock slid into her tight hole.
 
Oh…oh, it hurts.
 
She wailed her dissatisfaction through her ring gag and shimmied her hips, trying to encourage him to leave her sore rectum and use her pussy.
 
In and out, in and out… and she was finally rewarded when his hand stayed still, allowing her to rub and press.
 
Her own motion of her hips caused the cock in her ass to glide in and out, until she gasped and pushed into the warm body behind her, and cream drenched the shiny latex on her thighs.

Claudine had spent weeks in darkness, smelling only the rubber and hearing only the static of Strickland’s incessant droning and white noise.
 
Her feet no longer felt the texture of the different floors when she paced, and she missed the sensation.
 
Losing feeling in her hands was the worst, she decided.
 
Although she could move her arms a little, she could not differentiate between the soft padding of her bed and the rough stone of the bathroom wall.
 
Only when the man touched her… Tombstone, she remembered… could she feel anything but the rubber encasing her.

Added to that, it felt as though her muscles were freezing.
 
Every morning when she was lifted out of her bed, which was much less terrifying now that she was sealed in a mobile tomb, the movement in her limbs seemed to become more restricted.
 
By the end of the week she could barely move, and her legs stiff-walked her to the bathroom.
 
The man had to push her down onto the toilet and then straighten her again.
 
It was the same for kneeling to eat.
 
It seemed to Claudine she did not have the strength to bend her body.

It was hard to concentrate with the speakers constantly diverting her attention, but Claudine finally realized the man must know that her muscles were atrophying, because he knew he had to help her bend.
 
It was still a while before she understood that it was not her body freezing.
 
It was the unusual compound making up the rubber suit… curing.

Finally, the woman could not move at all, other than the stiff legged walking, and she froze in whatever position Tombstone arranged her.
 
He constantly changed her positions, checking for wear or strain on the outfit, and staring for hours to see if she shifted.
 
Tombstone brought her in front of a mirror and he spread her ankles and bent her knees slightly, making sure that she was balanced with her hips thrust forward.

He lowered her arms and took each gloved hand, arranging her fingers so that she spread her pussy open.
 
His hand rubbed across her clit.
 
It seemed to be constantly red and swollen, as if any senses left to her were contained in the little bead of pleasure.
 
He watched her cream flow, her pussy begin to squeeze, and panting gasps came from her gaping mouth.

Claudine moaned, ignoring that it was her hands spreading herself wide.
 
She could feel her rubber gloves on her labia, but her fingertips sensed nothing.
 
Her bottom clenched madly in the suit, straining to push into the fingers stroking her.
 
The man’s hand abandoned her sex and she willed her fingers to move, to slide the mere fraction of an inch that would allow her to play with her clit.

The man straightened and smiled, and Claudine gasped when she realized his fingers were brushing the sides of her mask.
 
Though her pussy still leaked and begged for release, her thoughts flew to his touch.
 
He pulled off the flap blocking her nose, and the first thing she smelled was her own arousal on his fingers.

Next, the earflaps were removed, and she sobbed in gratitude for the silence.
 
When his fingers approached her eyes, she trembled inside the suit.
 
Tombstone noted the slight quivering, but she could not change position.
 
The eye patches came off, and Claudine stared at the exotic rubber sculpture in the mirror.

The rubber suit was black, with slashes of brown and gold that matched her eyes and hair.
 
The tresses bursting from the top of her rubber mask were wavy and splayed in a circle.
 
Her eyes blinked in wary surprise, and she saw her tongue roaming around her open mouth.
 
The lewd position humiliated her, but there was no way to move her fingers to close her pink folds from view.

Tombstone watched the surprise turn to horror, edged with a tinge of fascination.
 
He stood behind his human mannequin, his ultimate sculpture, and fingered her to climax while he fucked her ass.
 
She shrieked in indignation until her orgasm hit, and her eyes met his in the mirror when she felt his sticky cum erupt inside of her.
 
Tombstone saw the slight smile and consuming desire in them.

The next morning Tombstone called Strickland.
 
It was November 3
^rd
and she would be ready on schedule, just as Tombstone had guaranteed.
 
He stiff-walked her to a chair, sensing her resistance inside the suit.
 
Pushing her to her knees, he centered his cock on her mouth and passed through the opening.
 
He pushed deeper, until he hit the small tube of her throat.
 
“Breath through your nose and get that tongue moving,” he ordered.

He felt the vibration of her sob and continued to push deeper, deep down her throat, feeling the vibrations of her protests muffled by his shaft.
 
Gripping her hair, he pulled and pushed, in and out, ignoring her gagging as he embedded himself, plunging down her throat for half an hour.

Claudine’s throat was sore, and she began licking and sliding her tongue along the soft warm surface of his cock.
 
She wanted him to cum and get the act over with, and it still took a long time.
 
Finally, she tasted the thicker spend of his sperm hit her throat, and she moaned in relief.
 
He left her kneeling and walked away with his phone.
 
Claudine felt the tickle of her juice until it rolled over the edge of her pants, and she clenched her muscles and wished she could turn her head to see him.
 
She longed for him to bend her over the chair and stick his hot shaft into her clasping pussy.

Tombstone placed a call to a woman.
 
If he had friends, they were the women and man running his club.
 
He had gathered as many of his former Room Five enchantresses as he could find.
 
Teresa and Sabrina watched over things, with three more who had been kicked from the club and had as much a reason to despise younger fare as he had.
 
Now, the Fives would never have one foot in the ally, and they lived the life of luxury that Tombstone afforded them.

Jude, though older, was still a commanding presence.
 
At Tombstone’s private club he was no longer a bouncer.
 
The specialty club was for his wealthy members only, but Jude was strong enough to both gather the mannequins to be displayed and to arrange them.
 
Apparently, even he had been kicked to the ally when Stevie replaced him with somebody younger.

Shortly after that, Tombstone had heard that Stevie had both feet firmly planted in the permanent ally… with only a brass plaque marking his grave.
 
Some suspected that Jude was responsible, but Tombstone remembered Sabrina returning from a quick weekend trip with a satisfied smile creasing her ebony face.

Jude backed the hearse up to the studio double doors.
 
It took both him and Tombstone to slide the casket off the sawhorses and onto the huge dolly.
 
Jude had found the contraption at an auction.
 
It was originally used to move pool tables, but suited their needs very well.

After the hearse doors slammed closed, Tombstone squinted through the tinted back window.
 
Claudia?
 
Claudine?
 
He shrugged and climbed into the hearse.
 
Donald Strickland’s human mannequin was delivered on November 5
^th
.

CHAPTER III

Annika stretched her slender tan legs, rubbing her sole along the thin calf beside her.
 
Summer break had gone better than she had expected, once she met the wealthy geek.
 
At first, she had looked right passed him, into the throng of young people carpeting the beach.
 
Something made her glance back at him again, and she murmured, “I’ll be right back, Sandy.”

Sandy was already eyeing a guy at the bar, watching the roll of bills he took out of his pocket when he paid for his drink.
 
“Take your time,” she replied, and she wandered towards her target.

The two girls began their treachery together three years ago, when they inadvertently hit on the same man at a ski lodge.
 
Now, they teamed up, either working the mark together if the money was there, or helping each other out of infrequent jams.
 
They cruised the beaches in the summer, and managed to acquire enough cash to dump the jerks and pickup replacements in ski lodges during winter.
 
It was a perfect life.

Both young women were petite with matching figures, thanks to surgery.
 
They had enticing busts and perky rounded bottoms that turned heads wherever they walked.
 
Annika had big blue eyes and hair that was almost white.
 
Sandy was her exact opposite, with Asian features and smiling dark eyes and black hair.
 
Both of them wore their hair long, swaying down to their waists.
 
They knew they made a fascinating picture when they sashayed by.

Annika strolled closer to the geek, studying the thick glasses and bejeweled watch.
 
There was a heavy gold ring on one hand that was far too imposing for his slender finger.
 
Currently, his magnified eyes were fixed on a textbook.
 
“Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?” Annika asked.
 
The dweeb actually jerked and dropped his book.

“Um…” Stanley licked his lips.
 
“Um, yes, but I’m working on extra credit.”

“Extra credit for what?” Annika asked, accepting the un-offered invitation and plopping down next to him on the blanket.

“Um, business economics.”

“Big demand for that?” Annika laughed.
 
She was not even sure what the hell it was.
 
“I’m Annika.”

Stanley stared at the gorgeous girl, and then looked around for his friends to rescue him.
 
They were in the water, splashing each other.
 
“Um… I’m Stanley.”
 
Where’s Michael?
 
“My dad, um... I’ll be going to work for the company… so my dad, he sorta’ decides what courses I’ll need.”
 
You idiot.
 
Now, she knows that daddy picks your courses.
 
Stanley’s face was deep red and he waited for the beautiful girl to laugh at him.
 
In his nineteen years, Stanley had had one successful date that ended in fucking.
 
He had forced his mind to forget that his father had paid for the woman.

“What company?” Annika pried.
 
Criminy, the guy’s father picks his school schedule?

“Washington-Bentley,” Stanley replied.

“Are you a Washington or Bentley?”

Stanley smiled nervously.
 
“A Bentley.”

Stanley Bentley?
 
Give me a break.
 
Someone had a cruel sense of humor.
 
“So, I guess it does pretty well, if they need a…” Annika lifted the book, shook out sand, and read, “business economics specialist.”

Stanley smiled proudly.
 
“Yes, we do pretty well.
 
They’re getting ready to open a fifth division overseas.
 
We design computer chips and software, and we can make the chips cheaper in Asia.
 
Eventually, I think I’ll be going there, and maybe head it up some day.”

Annika managed to ooh and aah and stroke his ego, and before he realized it, she had him obligated to dinner.
 
Within two nights of her doing all-the-work-sex, while ensuring him he was a stud, ‘business economics’ lay unopened in his suitcase and Stanley was having the time of his life.

As added insurance, Annika introduced the kid to ecstasy after convincing him how it added to the whole sexual performance.
 
Actually, she needed some to keep from screaming, and to get Stanley to release his trained grip on his wallet.
 
The kid was loaded, and he carried a no limit unguarded credit card.
 
When he was soaring on drugs, he had bragged about it and told her it was because he had never caused his father a problem.
 
Annika believed it.
 
Stanley Bentley was as boring as his name, until she began getting him high.
 
Then, the skinny man with the already receding hairline, pegs for legs, and shot glasses for eyewear, was absolutely hysterical.

Unfortunately, after Annika passed out and Stanley was still buzzing, he decided that if a little ecstasy made him feel good, a lot would make him feel great.
 
It did not work out that way, and Annika realized her foot was rubbing along a very cool, stiff, thin leg.
 
When she sat up and stared into his fixed surprised eyes, at first she was pissed off.
 
“Stanley, you shit-head.”

She jumped out of bed and methodically stripped her presence out of the room, after lifting three hundred dollars and a credit card from his wallet.
 
Annika also pulled the thick gold ring off his finger… and that had been her mistake.

She wore it on a chain around her neck, hidden under her blouse until she could decide the best way to pawn it.
 
Just the feel of the heavy nugget between her boobs was delicious… and the special tracking chip embedded inside mapped out the location of her swaying orbs.

Duke figured the two girls’ game quickly and reported back to his boss.
 
Jonathan Bentley called his good friend Don Strickland, who in turn gave him Tombstone’s number.
 
“Place an ad,” Tombstone suggested.

“An ad?”

“Where they’ll see it.
 
List a dollar amount for the reward.
 
The greedy bitches will call with some story about finding it.
 
Invite her and her friend on an all expenses paid trip to return it.”
 
Tombstone detailed the rest of the plan.

Duke opened the paper to the half page reward, turning it out so the enlarged picture of the ring faced the girls.
 
They were sitting at the table next to his, and he thought he would have to hit Annika over the head with the damn newspaper to get her to shut up and notice it.
 
Finally.

“Excuse me?
 
Can I see your paper when you’re finished with it?”
 
Annika gave her coyest smile, but the man could see the hungry greed in her eyes.

“Sure, I’m done with it.”
 
He rolled it up and handed it to her, and pretended to watch people walking by while he sipped his coffee.

“We can say we found it on the beach or something,” the brunette suggested.

“I don’t know.
 
It was pretty hard to get off him, so I don’t know if he could have just lost it.
 
Suppose this is some kind of trap?”
 
Annika slid the ring along the chain in an absentminded stroke.
 
Damn, she really wanted the reward money.
 
There was no way she could get that much pawning it.

“It’s been three weeks, and no one has been searching the clubs or anything,” Sandy pointed out.
 
“And the newspaper just had some stupid story about him having a stroke while he was on vacation.”

“We know that was a cover-up, Sandy.”
 
Annika’s brows furrowed.
 
The reward was luring her.
 
“Maybe the ring wasn’t
that
tight.
 
He did look like he’d swelled up a little.”
 
Man, a vacation and fifty thousand dollar reward are hard to pass up.

Ultimately, greed won out, and Sandy stood next to Annika while she placed the call.
 
Annika felt like she had completely sideswiped the grieving man when she insisted her friend had to come with her.
 
They ‘high-fived’ each other when she hung up.

The girls boarded a flight for New England, and Duke paid a moving company to clear out their apartment and get rid of their stuff.
 
One of the neighbors asked what was happening, and he shrugged his shoulders and said the girls had moved out.
 
“Thank god,” the woman muttered.
 
She was sick of the late night parties from the little tramps.

The girls took just a hit of pick-me-up for added confidence for the meeting.
 
It was enough that it had not occurred to Annika how bad it looked to have the ring on a chain.
 
“I wanted to make sure it didn’t get lost,” she answered weakly.

When Stanley’s father told them they were going to the cemetery, the girls protested.
 
“We didn’t really know him, Mr. Bentley.”
 
They still did not have the reward money, so they tried not to upset him.
 
His eyes were grief stricken, and he said something about how his son would have liked to know that two pretty girls said goodbye.
 
It seriously creeped Annika out, but they agreed.

With two girls, Tombstone decided to recruit Jude’s help.
 
He stood in front of the headstone that had both the names etched on it.
 
‘Annika and Sandy Smith’, with a birth date as fictitious as the last name.
 
Annika began crying and sank to the ground, while Sandy wailed and sold her friend out.
 
“It wasn’t me.
 
I didn’t do anything.”

In the end, both girls woke in matching coffins, while Tombstone and Jude shared a drink.
 
“They were high, you know,” Jude mentioned.

“Yeah, I know,” Tombstone muttered.
 
“You think it’s something they need?”

“More recreational, would be my guess.
 
They don’t look strung out enough to be full-time users,” Jude answered.
 
After years in the club, he recognized junkies.

“I’ve got a January deadline on them.
 
You feel like taking off from the club and helping me?”

Besides owing Tombstone for giving him a great job after Stevie kicked him to the ally, Jude’s lust-filled eyes told the story.
 
The huge black man flashed his teeth.
 
“Sabrina and Teresa can take care of the club, and I can always get back to help with special orders.”

“Right.
 
Okay, this is how we’ll handle it.”
 
Tombstone showed Jude the picture of the order.
 
It was a one of a kind drawing he had designed.

Jonathan studied the photos of the girls that Duke had sent him, showing the petite pixies back in action, hitting on men at the beach bar.
 
After discussing possible options with Tombstone, he was very pleased with the ultimate design.
 
The two girls would cost him, but he no longer had Stanley’s maintenance to cover… and he still had four other sons and a daughter to consider.

Weak little Stanley had been constantly sick, and his siblings coddled him as a favorite of their family.
 
He had never been destined for more than a gratuitous place in the company, because even with tutors he barely passed his classes, though he studied diligently.
 
Poor little Stanley had neither the stamina nor the understanding of the darker games his family enjoyed.

Jude was intrigued, carefully following Tombstones orders and watching the process.
 
The first time Tombstone ordered the ‘twins’ returned to the caskets for disobeying, Jude tucked one under each arm, carrying the two screaming girls back to their dark isolation and laughing a deep rolling sound when the lids were closed.

He sat with Tombstone, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair, anxiously awaiting the next order.
 
After thirty minutes, Tombstone stretched.
 
“That should do it.”

“Do you think it’s been long enough?” Jude asked, though he really wanted to get on with it.

“Every minute is like ten in the box.
 
Trust me, we won’t be getting much more aggravation from them.”

Annika looked up into the gravedigger’s eyes and whined behind her gag.
 
“Spread your legs,” he ordered.
 
In the background, Tombstone heard Jude mimicking his remarks.

I want to go home.
 
I’ll never do it again, I’m sorry.
 
Annika could not believe the brute could not see how afraid she was.
 
His hand reached for the lid and she shrieked and spread her thighs.
 
One of his hands caressed her cheek, the other rolled over a silicone mound to her pussy.
 
Both girls had lasered their hair removal after discovering their petite size led to a ‘little girl’ fantasy for some of the older guys they conned.

He continued stroking her cheek and her baby blues continued to beg, widening when her pussy lips were spread, widening further when he began stroking her.
 
Tombstone noted that she did not gush the copious amounts of the woman before,
‘Claudette?’
, but she did moisten as quickly.
 
Her cherubic face looked up at him, agonizing his balls with a cramping tightness until her surprised expression resulted in a shriek that turned to a wail while she jerked her slim hips into his hand.
 
Tombstone smashed his hand down on her swollen sensitive sex.
 
“I did not tell you that you could climax.”