Debauchery Falls Ch. 07

*** Disclaimer ***

The following story may contain themes of hypnosis, mind control, non-consent, paranormal, cheating, cuckoldry, voyeurism, incest, gang bangs, and other forms of debauchery. This may not be the story for you.

This is a work of fiction. All characters depicted are at least 18 years of age. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Debauchery Falls chapter 07

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"Captain Graver... I mean... Jack. I'm scared." Lucy had curled into herself in the front seat. She brought her knees to her chest and was hugging them tightly. Her borrowed boots resting on the edge of the seat. She was rocking back and forth slightly, wishing she'd kept her baggy hoodie, like a comfort blanket. The outfit that she'd felt sexy and cute in earlier, now made her feel foolish, like she was trying to be one of these hot glamorous women, which she definitely didn't feel like.

Graver felt bad for her, but he nothing to say. No sage advice that would help her overcome fear. Fear was normal. It was healthy. Confidence only came after the scary parts passed.

He patted her on the knee, and checked his pistol.

They were parked in the woods, at the base of the mountain. They'd been watching the cultists sift through the rubble of the exploded camp, and when they'd come up empty, they'd returned to town. Graver had cautiously followed, and during that time, they'd spotted a line of Sheriff's department cruisers coming back from the direction of the firefight with Galloway's team.

Oddly, the little convoy wasn't returning to the substation, but cut north, to an isolated hunting cabin. Graver didn't like the look of it. Something was horribly off about the Sheriff.

They'd driven into the trees to watch for a while and get a headcount. Six deputies, including the Sheriff. Half a dozen cultists, including one priest. Four prisoners: Lieutenant Galloway, Sergeant Quinn, and two civilians.

After several minutes, most of the group departed in cars and pickup trucks. Except for the four prisoners, and the Sheriff. Two deputies had also stayed behind. Rough and tumble types. They bore scars, shaved heads, stubble, and prison tattoos. They were also gripping weapons. Graver recognized those weapons-- the ones belonging to his men.

"Where are you going?" Lucy asked, when Graver reached for the door handle.

Graver's face was set with icy determination. Those big gentle eyes of his were gone. Now there was an intensity that frightened Lucy.

"To get my guns back," he said to her, then stepped out into the night.

***

Halley, Jessup, and Brubaker crouched in a cluster of dense reeds that were growing along the rushing Jernigan Creek. They had been cautiously following the silhouettes from the wreckage.

At a certain point, they'd given up their search for survivors, and had returned to the town. The trio had soundlessly followed, slipping through the trees and the shadows, watching as they crossed the bridge like monks on a pilgrimage.

Jessup was aiming his rifle on them, the entire time.

"They don't know where we are," Halley whispered. "You shoot these pricks, and they will."

Halley waited until they'd crossed the bridge and were out of sight. She wanted to make sure they wouldn't get caught, then she made her move.

"Wait," Jessup protested, wanting to insist that he go first. Halley didn't wait.

Brubaker just shrugged. "She can take care of herself. Like you should be doing, Junior."

Jessup frowned but followed half a second later. His boot slid on the wet embankment and he skidded a little in the dirt. He hurried to catch up to Halley and Brubaker. They waited for him on the other side of the bridge, watching for the hooded shapes. They hadn't been noticed as the three slipped north into town.

"Where are we going?" Jessup asked. Unlike Graver and Lucy, Halley's team hadn't seen the convoy of Sheriff's vehicles cutting north.

Halley paused from the bushes as she considered her options. They could head for the hillside where Galloway's firefight had been. But the sounds had stopped. It was over.

She decided their priority was to contact the outside world. They'd need additional help. She eyed the Sheriff's department with doubt. Nothing about it felt right. She didn't trust it.

Instead, she looked to the two-story hotel and bar. It was the strongest looking building in town, and though the lights were off, it would probably afford the most resources, and most options.

She kept them to the shadows, creeping stealthily along a row of trimmed hedges that lined the lane. They walked in a crouch, their boots thumping softly in the dirt. Halley could hear the soft jingle of weapons and equipment rattling. The two men followed close behind her.

She called a halt at the corner and pointed out the hotel. A sign designating it the Lantern Glow Inn gave it a warm homey feeling, despite the driving rain and the lights being off.

"That's our goal," she explained to the men her reason for wanting to secure the building.

Jessup nodded. "Okay... so here's the plan," he said, drawing a rough map in the dirt with his finger. He had puffed up his chest slightly, trying to take charge. "Halley, you hang back. Brubaker and I will secure it. I'll take the back and Brubaker will take the--"

"Or," Halley said dryly, "We skip all that shit, and just go in together."

Jessup stammered. "But I thought--"

But Halley was already moving away from him.

"She's not impressed, dude," Brubaker said, much to Jessup's embarrassment.

"Oh fuck off," Jessup responded.

"Remember your first day of training with the shotguns? The pellets ricocheted off the target post, and one of them hit you in the eye? You almost pissed yourself because you thought you were blind. And me, being the sympathetic prick that I am, I brought you an eye patch from a Halloween costume and the Cookie Monster's 'no more tears' shampoo the next day. Remember that?" Brubaker grinned.

"Yeah, I remember. What's your point?" Jessup scowled.

"My point is, that's how you're seen around here. You need to just deal with that. Because the harder you try to *act* like one of the grownups, the less you'll be seen as one. If you want to be seen as one of them, *be* one of the grownups. That means shutting your mouth, quietly pulling your weight, and stepping up only when you're asked to." Brubaker patted the younger man on the shoulder and followed Halley.

Jessup sighed.

They crossed the street together, dashing through the dark like a trio of rebellious kids breaking curfew, and paused on the rickety porch steps of the hotel and tavern. After a careful look through the windows, they found it acceptable.

"Looks like a good place to talk over drinks," Halley remarked, allowing a smile across her normally stoic features. She caught Jessup's eye, and for a second, she looked amazingly lively. Hardly the dry tough-talking boss that Jessup had already been crushing on. With her wet hair sweeping across one eye, she reminded him of some sexy bombshell-- Jessica Rabbit or something.

Maybe it was just the way she held eye contact, or his own pounding heart, or the circumstances-- the danger and the adrenaline making him crazy with lust, but he decided to throw caution to the wind and just go for it.

"Something on your mind?" Halley cocked an eyebrow, noticing the hesitant way that Jessup kept looking at her, then looking away.

"Um... well... I was thinking that we might die and all..." he stammered. "So I was just figuring... oh what the hell!" he said at last and leaned his face toward Halley's, shutting his eyes and pursing his lips.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked pulling her face away. Jessup's kiss met nothing but air.

He stopped, looking horrified.

"Were you trying to...?" Halley said, then she gasped and couldn't help but laugh. "Oh my god. You were. You were trying to snake a kiss." She chuckled harder. Jessup reddened, he backed away, visibly embarrassed at the abrupt rejection. "And I thought you were going to ask me for a raise." Her face became serious. "But 'no' to both. Now knock it off and follow me."

Halley slipped into the bar, her gun drawn.

Brubaker was shaking his head sadly, having witnessed the whole thing. "Wow, that was painful."

"Shut up, Bru," Jessup snapped.

"Can't say I blame you, Halley is cute. You know she's engaged to the Captain, right?"

"Oh fuck the Captain," Jessup, said. "Where is he? Because right now, it looks like we're on our own. So where is he?"

"True. But I'm here. And as long as I'm here, I need a partner who's not thinking with his dick. So get it together, junior, and focus."

Jessup swallowed, but nodded his head agreeably. They followed Halley into the darkness.

***

Quinn's head hung. He was staring at his lap, trying not to listen. Although it was hard to ignore the gasps of pleasure, intermixed with bimbo-like giggles.

Beside him, Brad Tanner sat with a look of shame plastered on his features. His crotch was wet with the puddle of cum drying against his dick. Quinn supposed the man's humiliation was worse-- his daughter had been grinding her ass on his lap until the man had literally cum in his pants. Fair enough. You win on the embarrassment front, buddy.

But it was hard not to be humiliated. Galloway was his girlfriend. The love of his life. His longest running crush, and his most cherished best friend.

He peeked from the corner of his eye. That was a mistake.

On the king-sized bed, among the fluffy flannel bed sheets, laying like an overfed and pampered king, Sheriff Lowery lounged on his back. His pants were off, discarded on the floor. His plump hard-on stood at full attention between the faces of two very attractive women.

On one side, Kate Galloway had shed her clothes. She was on her hands and knees, like a dog, her heavy boobs swinging back and forth slowly, as she swayed her wide hips. On the other side, Andrea Tanner. Nude from the waist up, her perky boobs with just the slightest jiggle, and her miniskirt pushed up around her waist like a belt. The girls were sliding their tongues up and down the sides of the Sheriff's shaft. They licked him aggressively, like his cock was a tasty popsicle, and they were competing to see who could eat it all first.

All the while, the rotund slob of a law enforcement officer was running his hands over the backsides of both women. His hands roaming the curves of their asses. He was feeling them, touching them. Once in a while, he'd give one of them a little slap, making the girls jump and yelp. That would eventually be followed by giggles.

Their licking was noisy. Wet and sloppy. Periodically the girls would pause, their noses would touch at the head of his bloated cock, and their lips would meet. It wasn't just the Sheriff that they were out to please. It was also each other. The girls couldn't stop kissing each other.

Their lips would meet, their eyes would shut, and there'd be a tender passion about the way they rolled their tongues into each other's mouths, the way they forced each other's lips apart, the way they nibbled and played. The Sheriff hadn't directed any of that. He'd only told them that they were feeling extra horny and extra slutty.

While he watched the display, Quinn found himself wondering about Abernathy's powers of suggestion-- the mind control he was able to instill in those around him, and to what degree of control it held over their victims. Quinn certainly felt like himself, even though he'd been left under the influence of the Sheriff's whims. If anything, he was himself during this whole ordeal. It was only when the Sheriff told him to do something, Quinn would obey so abruptly that he felt like he didn't have time to process his own actions.

The feeling was odd... like he knew he shouldn't obey, that he had no reason to, that he should resist... but he couldn't. Not so much that he couldn't, but he didn't *want* to resist. He felt like any suggestion, no matter how twisted, dirty, fucked up, or awful... it really wasn't so bad. He kind of already wanted to act on it... and there was this comforting feeling, knowing that it wasn't his idea, that he was just following the orders of someone else.

Quinn always figured that was an element of human nature-- wanting to follow the orders of another, without having to shoulder the consequences or responsibility for it. That's how soldiers were made. "Don't blame me for all those human atrocities. I was just following orders." That's how cults were formed, and people drank the poison Kool Aid by the hundreds. That's how protests turned to riots. That's how angry mobs burned 'witches' at the stake. How fathers, mothers, mayors, priests, doctors, and farmers could devolve from normal sensible members of society, into murderous vile creatures at the mere suggestion of one charismatic figurehead. Anonymity was a comfort blanket that shields you from any responsibility. And by nature, human beings don't want to lead, they prefer to be led. Especially by a powerful emboldened influential personality.

'Look in my eyes, what do you see...?'

Perhaps Abernathy's power of influence merely plucked at that mental string in everyone's mind just the right way. Maybe he wasn't so much implanting ideas into their heads, but removing their feelings of personal responsibility for their actions.

These thoughts all occurred to Quinn as he watched the tender, almost loving way that Galloway kissed Andrea. Their mouths locked together. Her eyes shut, and her face a mask of absolute pleasure. Galloway had always been a promiscuous girl. Fearless, especially when it came to sexual exploration. She had hidden soft spots for those who were going through tough times, and Andrea was a girl who screamed of tough times. And Galloway had many tomboyish qualities-- from her brash boldness, to her sense of humor. Much of it had come from an upbringing with three older brothers. But Quinn often suspected that Galloway could be bisexual. Maybe this hungry kiss was something that a deep dark corner of Galloway's mind always wanted, but she could never explore until she had the ultimate permission from a higher power.

Just like poor Brad over there, with his dick glued to his leg with his own cum, and his daughter's wetness drying on the front of his pants. Maybe there was more to that vulgar little lap dance that they shared.

And maybe it was all okay.

"Back to it, sluts," Sheriff Lowery interrupted Galloway and Andrea's kiss, pushing their faces back to his crotch. They resumed their licking at once. Both girls basting his cock with their tongues, dragging their wet saliva up and down his shaft until his dick was shiny and slick in the firelight.

Galloway dropped her head lower and went to work on his balls. She sucked one of them into her full pouty lips and moaned softly around a mouthful of his sack.

"Mmmmm... what good little whores you are," Lowery moaned, pleasantly. His hands slid down Galloway's backside, and his fingers started to toy with the folds of her pussy. She wiggled against his touch, responding to him in a positive way. Just the way she moved her body against his hand, it was like she was offering an open invitation to explore further.

He began to probe her pussy. His fingers disappearing into her body.

"Quite the wet little honey pot you've got here," he remarked, sampling her body with his finger. He pushed it in and out of her, fucking her softly with his hand.

"Uh huh," she replied, breathy and excited around a mouthful of his balls. She moved her butt back against his hand, grinding her snatch on his curious fingers.

Lowery's other hand explored Andrea's cute perky ass. And when he pressed into her, it wasn't her pussy. "Nice tight little heiney hole. The things I'm going to do to this," he said, pushing his finger into her ass.

Andrea winced. A little squeal escaped her lips. "Ouch," she whined, but her voice dripping with sex appeal. A slutty little cry of displeasure. Then she was accepting his finger into her dark region.

The girls only picked up speed with their sucking and their licking. Their bodies moving harder against Lowery's thick calloused fingers. Their moans muted and lusty.

None of them noticed when a dull thud came from outside.

But Quinn noticed. His head shot over in the direction of the front door.

A moment later, a much louder thud made them all jump. Including Sheriff Lowery. He sat up.

A second later, something hit the door. A desperate smacking sound like a hand on the solid wood, and it was accompanied by a muted protest, like someone trying to yell through a pillow.

Then it was over. Silence followed.

The girl's resumed their licking of Lowery's cock, but the mood had changed. Lowery was no longer paying attention to them. His hackles were up.

"Stop," he ordered the girls, reaching for his gun belt, just as the front door burst inward. Captain Graver was already storming through the entry, in low quick movements, pistol in one hand, and bloodied knife in the other.

"What the hell?" Lowery grabbed for his pistol, no longer paying attention to the girls... or whatever power he held over them. Nobody could be sure if it was the distraction, or the order that Lowery had given for them to stop... but it was like a switch had been flipped.

Before Lowery could react to the intrusion, Galloway flung herself at the Sheriff. She grabbed for his gun hand, while she tossed her legs over his head, wrestling him back down to the bed.

The Sheriff gave a startled yelp, and his gun went off. The shot going into the ceiling, deafening in the confines of the cabin. Andrea screamed. Brad was yelling. Graver ran to the bed to help.

Galloway pinned Lowery to the bed, trapping his face between her strong muscular thighs. Lowery's mouth turned to a sneer. He was struggling to form the words, trying to snarl an order at her. Galloway didn't afford him the chance. She tightened her grip with her legs, trapping his neck in a chokehold until the man's eyes bulged.

"Kill him, Kate!" Quinn shouted.

Lowery grabbed her legs, struggling to free his trapped head. His expression going from anger to panic. His face was turning deep red. He couldn't breath. His gun went off again. Loud.

Quinn could hear the sound echoing across the entire valley, alerting everyone to the struggle taking place.

Lowery tried to bring his gun to bear on Galloway, but then Graver was by her side, trapping the weapon, and pulling it from the man's hand.

Lowery was desperate, smacking her legs, fighting to breathe, fighting to form some sort of words that would allow him to free himself. But Galloway had the upper hand. She'd leveraged herself on top of him, and she was very strong. She wasn't going anywhere.

She squeezed harder. "Shut up," she hissed, bringing her thighs together as hard as she could. Lowery kicked helplessly at the air. He couldn't budge her. His face going from red to purple. Beads of sweat standing out on his rough skin. He let out a grunt, but couldn't bring himself to make any more noise than that.

"C'mon... c'mon," she urged him quietly. "It's hopeless. Stop fighting." Galloway interlocked her feet.

Drool was running from between the Sheriff's lower teeth.

"Shhhh... shhhh..." Galloway was frantically whispering, not even aware that she was doing it. "Just go into the light. Just go into the light. Walk into the light," she was saying over and over again like she was trying to coax him into giving up.

Lowery was starting to thrash. His face going from purple to blue. But still he held on, still he fought.