The Mystery at Faldor Hotel Ch. 22

The soaked crotch of her thong no longer enough, Eloise's hand dove down between her thighs, behind the black cotton to flick her clitoris. Her other nipple had worked mostly free of its bra cup as she writhed in the chair, watching the large Mediterranean man slowly fucking helpless Nancy. She was so close now, but she knew it wouldn't be enough. She knew she'd keep playing with herself until she had another orgasm, then another and another if the two men kept it up with her niece. From the back of her mind came the fervent wish that she'd packed her dildo before she got on the plane, but it was too late for that now and her finger hurriedly circling her erected clitoris would have to do.

"Oh! Oh, yes! Fuck her! F-fuck her harder! ... Uuuuuuuhhh!"

Gul obeyed her directive, thrusting harder as Nancy desperately tried to handle the Colonel's cock in her throat. He was groaning and she wondered why, wondered why he wouldn't let her suck his length the way she wanted to. Surely it would feel better for him?

"Kkaaaackk!" she commented.

"Ohh-h, Nancy!" Eloise cried. "Na- Nancy, I'm... Nancy, I'm cumminggg! OH FUCK, NANCYYY, AHHHHHHH-HAAAAAHH!!?"

Nancy's ears recorded Eloise's event, but her mind only took half notice of the information as Gul slammed her so satisfyingly and the Colonel finally pulled back to fuck her face, making it much more possible to enjoy the sensations the men were providing at both her ends. She squealed and sucked, getting more pre-cum and vaguely wondering what would happen when he had to ejaculate.

She didn't have long to wait for an answer. Panting and groaning, he suddenly pulled out of her mouth and, out of some automatic reaction, she grabbed it, squeezing and stroking while trying to coax it back to her open mouth. Wailing in reaction to the sound fucking she was receiving, she lifted her head, straining to meet the Colonel's cock halfway as he let out a yell and squirted a thick, heavy rope of semen across and into her mouth. Flinching, she pushed her head back down into the mattress, but another shot leapt from his cockhead, and then another and another. She felt the hot stuff hitting her forehead and nose, more flinging into her mouth, yet she kept pumping the cock in her face.

She felt like a whore and she loved it. She was ashamed and it excited her. She came violently, convulsing and twisting, her vaginal muscles clamping even harder around Gul's cock as it seemed to explode inside her. The feeling was incredible and so good, so complimenting to her own orgasm that words could never describe it. As though from a million miles away, she could hear Eloise cumming again, her shrill expletives rising in concert with her own orgasmic screams.

Several minutes later, Nancy didn't know what to think. With the Colonel's cum running down her face and Ghanem's leaking from her aching, but so satisfied pussy, she'd mixed more drinks for the four of them at the Colonel's instruction and was presently back on the bed, sitting between them with hr back against the headboard. With her drink in one hand, she looked at the now flaccid members on either side of her with the knowledge that they'd been inside her, had cum inside her and that, as ashamed of it as she was, she'd enjoyed it. Even sitting there, sipping her drink with her legs bent at the knees, thighs spread in an obscene show of her vagina, she couldn't keep a strange mile from her face as she realized that she very much liked the taste of the Colonel's semen.

Eloise seemed very much in the same mindset. She still sat in the chair, barely acknowledging Nancy when her niece passed her the glass of vodka and orange. Her dress still completely open, the tangled crotch of her panties was wedged between the full lips of her pussy while one breast hung completely out of its cup, the other only half out. Her horn-rimmed glasses were a little crooked and Nancy couldn't decide what to think of her as she slouched there, but was amazed at her mind's notation of how good she looked in her lingerie, how her black garters so complimented her waist and thighs. Thinking of her lesbian experience with George, she wondered what it might be like to be with her aunt. As she thought this, Eloise looked at her, directly into her eyes as though she'd read her thoughts and they both offered embarrassed, yet strangely understanding smiles.

Eloise was having trouble. In the light of sexual release, she was ashamed of herself, of what she'd forced on her niece and the way she'd vicariously gotten off on it, but couldn't deny her enjoyment of it. Even thinking of it stirred her hormones and made tingles that gave rise to goosebumps all over her body. It was clear that Nancy was drunk and unable to completely appreciate the magnitude of what had just happened. There in the afterglow, the young play toy to these two men was taking pleasure in the sight of her aunt's body and, when their eyes met, the smile she offered only helped to rekindle the fire of Eloise's arousal and she had to deny a sudden urge to join them, to climb up on that bed and use her brother's naked and vulnerable daughter as the men had, no matter what they might want to do with her in the process.

Fortunately for Eloise, neither the Colonel nor Ghanem read this sudden temptation in Eloise's countenance.

"Well," Marks sighed with satisfaction, "looks like I got to see those big fuckin' tits after all."

Her smile thinned as she regarded him, her shoulders slightly shrugging in silent reply.

"You must be a kinky bitch to enjoy watching your own niece get used like that," he laughed while looking up and down her body. "I figured it was kinda odd the way you dealt her away like that, but now I get it."

"Do you?" Eloise asked with empty humour.

"Well... not completely. You being a lesbo, I'd think you'd rather watch her get used by Elora, or Vivian. Or both. Heh."

Eloise declined reply. Her eyes again found Nancy's but, after the Colonel's crass comments, she shifted her gaze to the corner of the room while she took a sip from her drink, trying to keep her face careless and neutral in order not to give him anything else to play with.

"I do understand," the Mediterranean stated. "Sexuality, voyeurism in particular, does not necessarily require the content of one's personal preferences. Often, it is the underlying psychology of what one watches that tickles his- or her- lust. Pornography is the best example of this. Consider: Many spouses who love and cherish one another, who would never think of cheating on one another, enjoy watching pornography together because of the situational content, because of how the scenes they watch uninhibit their imaginations and increase their arousal. Even single people who watch pornography often enjoy scenes that they themselves would never be part of in real life because, often, the reason they would never take part in such a thing is because of years of being told that such things are wrong.

"However," he continued, "The fact remains that sex for the sake of sex, for the sake of simple self-gratification, does not require 'right' or 'wrong' in order to actually reach such gratification. An orgasm is an orgasm and feels the same whether arrived at by one means or another, and the ideals of 'right' and 'wrong' exist only in the mind as put there by society, in particular, our parents and/or religious upbringing. Voyeurism is most enjoyed by those who are prisoners of such upbringing or- to put it another way- social brainwashing. It is simply the better knowing subconscious breaking free of conscious bonds in order to satisfy itself in the healthy way it knows it needs to.

"This being said, I must also point out that such taboos, as they exist within the brainwashed mind, also serve gratification when they are broken. For those who have been trained to believe that sex was meant solely for procreation, even the most innocent things, such as oral sex, can be immensely enjoyable because it is perceived as forbidden. This brings sharply into focus the curious fact that deeply religious people so enjoy sexually based sin, however they themselves would deny it for the same social-"

"Jesus, Gul," Marks scoffed, "you're using a lot of words to say something so simple: Beneath all the bullshit propriety, people are perverted fuckin' pigs."

Looking at Eloise with a sympathetic smile, Gul shook his head at the Colonel's crude simplicity, yet gestured towards him with his hand in silent agreement.

"I prefer Mr. Ghanem's explanation," Eloise offered, straightening her glasses. Marks snorted and rolled his eyes while she took a sip of her drink before adding, "If only because I place enough importance on my own civility to see myself as more than swine."

"I'd like to hear your views about that after spending a few years in an East Asian warzone," the Colonel smirked.

"Granted," Gul put in, "Life is certainly a study in different perspectives, but each perspective is only one personal viewpoint. It is the understanding and, where possible, tolerance of each viewpoint that grows wisdom, a point of many perspectives that is possibly one true definition of Godliness within a world of perceived good and evil.

"There you go again," Marks accused, grabbing Nancy's inner thigh and instructing, "No more screwdrivers for him."

Nancy, who'd been quite engrossed in this conversation to the point where she'd temporarily forgotten the events which had spawned it, laughed despite herself. She'd discovered another dimension to these men, especially Gul, and in that moment, the amazing fact that she was lying there naked, thighs wantonly spread between them, struck her anew.

Eloise also smiled despite herself. She'd never cared for the type of man that Colonel Marks represented, had in fact often wondered if they weren't in part responsible for her sexual preference for women. Yet, as she now felt a curious connection of understanding with Ghanem for his explanation of her part in the events that had just transpired in Suite 207, she had a grudging one for Marks as well. His understanding, while less eloquent, nonetheless made it clear that he, like Ghanem, didn't judge her on her perversions and she couldn't help but respect him for it. Furthermore, she was slightly less ashamed of herself, if only through Ghanem's understanding of her actions.

Her smile became yet more open as Marks caressed Nancy's thigh. Strangely, it seemed an almost grandfatherly gesture and it excited her to see it almost as much as it excited Nancy as the recipient. But, more than that, it was a curious side of her niece that she'd never seen. As much as she'd had her own agenda while manipulating this situation, she could see that Nancy, for all her know-it-all, sometimes irritating premature maturity, was still a girl on the inside, and she obviously liked the attention of older men. It made her happy, seemed to complete her and, no matter what George wanted, Eloise doubted she could ever really offer Nancy what she needed.

"So, Colonel," she sighed as her legs spread further, "about this history lesson..."

"Ah, yes," he replied, looking hungrily at her crotch. "Guess it's my turn to put out, huh?"

"And you'd better be at least as good as Nancy was," Eloise quipped.

All four of them laughed at this, Nancy blushing as she did.

"Madam," Marks proclaimed, "I doubt any history lesson could ever be as entertaining as this hot little bitch but, unless you'd like me to embellish, you'll have to be the judge of that."

"No embellishments, please," the still smiling, half naked schoolteacher stipulated, as completely unaffected by his reference to her niece as Nancy was.

"Well," he remarked, "it's not much of a history, really. You might be disappointed, but I guess its value all depends on what you need from it."

With a grin, Nancy replied, "Then, as you say, Colonel, we'll have to be the judge of that."

The Colonel's hand slowed to a stop on Nancy's thigh, but gave it what may have been an affectionate squeeze as he reached for the glass on the bedside table. Taking a deep drink from it, he was still smiling when he replaced it and began to speak.

"Cinder Bay is actually a pretty old little town. It was established in the late sixteen-hundreds, but I use the word 'established' loosely 'cause, at the time, it was really just a well-known campsite. Other than some wild berries and plentiful fish and game, there was fuck all else here and no reason for anyone to stay any longer than it took them to rest up, gather provisions, or trade with other people who were using the site. In fact, it's said that the place gets its name from all the campfire pits people left here.

"Now, this is kinda odd 'cause, usually, any place that sees any amount of trading over any period of time becomes a town, but that didn't happen here, at least not until eighteen-seventy-two. That's when a man named Tiberian Faldor discovered the place. Faldor was a rich man, made a fortune supplying the Union Army during the civil war, and it's said that he was on his way through to somewhere or other and stopped to use the place for the same purpose everyone else did. Well, after the war, there were a lot of people on the move and this little armpit of America was busier than it had ever been, busy enough that Faldor made the mistake of thinking he could make a go of it here.

"So he hired some men who happened to be here in transit to cut enough trees to build a trading post, and a small town with a mill grew up around it. Thing is, the trading post wasn't what was really needed because trading wasn't the principal use of Cinder Bay. It was a layover and nothing more, and the people who were using it as such didn't need a formal trading post to trade here anyway, so the failure of his trading post is partly where he got the not so bright idea to build this place.

"Along about this time, a family from Canada were on their way through to resettle somewhere south of here. Well, the man of this family had a pretty little daughter that Faldor took an immediate liking to- one of those love at first sight things- and, since teenage daughters were generally seen as nothing more than a useless mouth to feed at the time, he had no trouble convincing the guy to leave the little bitch behind, especially since Faldor gave him money for her. Her name was Amanda and she wasn't very happy about being sold, and a lot less happy about becoming the wife of an ugly old fool like Tiberian Faldor.

"And he was a fool. Anybody who'd invest their riches in Cinder Bay had to have been because the place just didn't see enough traffic to support a trading post or a hotel and there was no reason anybody would want to live here. Yeah, there was a mill to employ a few men but, once their houses and the few other buildings Cinder Bay needed at the time were built, the mill was no more than a stinkin' pile of white elephant turd.

"So here's Faldor with a trading post that nobody gave a shit about, a beautiful young wife who wished he was dead and an otherwise useless mill to use in the creation of a hotel that, he thought, could also be a palace to make his young and beautiful wife happy with him. That's why he spared no expense building the Faldor Hotel. Trouble was, the kind of people who passed through Cinder Bay couldn't afford the kind of accommodations that Amanda's unwanted palace offered, and the rooms were bargained out to your average riff-raff at anything they could afford just to get enough money coming in to feed himself and his unsatisfied wife.

"In desperation, he had the wharf built, then the lighthouse, and poured more money into a small offshore fishing fleet. Without any real population to buy the fish, that didn't do so well though, and the same thing happened with the coal mine he developed. Cinder Bay was too small to support itself and too far from any other population to sell what little it had to offer. No matter what Faldor did, all he could accomplish was to dwindle what little was left of his fortune in utter failure.

"And, of course, he was a laughing stock for it. The few people who stayed for however long they would before moving on to better opportunities saw him as a joke, and that didn't help Amanda's view of her husband, or her own life with him. She took to drinking and, before long, sleeping with every man in town and on his way through it. Revenge, I suppose.

"I think it's fair to say that any man in Faldor's position would be... unhappy. Nothing was going right and, were it not for his stubborn pride, he'd have pulled out long ago, but everything he had was sunk into this shithole and, for him, it was sink or swim. He became embittered, reclusive and depressed, the only thing he had any love for being his little slut of a wife. When he found out about her being the town bicycle, he apparently had a nervous breakdown of sorts and that's when Amanda disappeared. It's thought that he killed her in a fit of rage, but there was never any proof of that and, without any form of law around here at the time, there was never any investigation and nobody ever tried to look for her because... well, she was just a slut and nobody cared that much about her that they'd go searching all over Hell's half acre. Besides, they probably all thought he killed her. In that event, he'd have most likely gotten rid of the body, so what would be the point in looking for her?"

"But that's... that's just horrible!" Nancy declared.

"That's life," the Colonel remarked as though in correction of her assessment. "And life is often cheap. Never underestimate people's ability to not give a shit about others. Even in civilised society, nobody really does except for liberals and bleeding hearts, but even their caring only extends to warm and fuzzy things that make them smile. I mean, for them, nobody should kill a kitten 'cause it's cute, but it's okay to kill a bat 'cause they're fuckin' ugly. They'll feed the poor, but they'd never let a homeless man into their house no matter how cold it is outside because that would be too real. That's just the way people are and the less food and heat there is to go around, the more like that they become.

"Anyway, for the town, things more or less went on as they had been for a time while Tiberian Faldor became even darker. About a year after Amanda's disappearance, some 'eccentrics' showed up. They got off one of his offshore vessels one day- which kinda implies that he'd invited them- a handful of men and women dressed in black who moved into the hotel. Before long, rumours started flying around that he and these eccentrics were having séances and performing black magic rituals here in the hotel in an effort to summon or contact his presumably dead wife. The few employees here told stories- some of them maybe true- about some other strange guests and weird shit going on, like orgies and reconstructions."

"Reconstructions?" Nancy asked.

Taking his glass from the bedside table, Marks shrugged before taking a drink, then elaborated with, "Apparently, he reconstructed parts of the hotel."

"What parts?" Nancy asked, her jism laced face now awash with curiosity.

"No idea," Marks replied. "The history is mostly word of mouth, nothing written, and it isn't that detailed. Half of it probably isn't even be true. I mean, you know how old stories like this are, right? Exaggerations, embellishments, outright bullshit... Anyway, as spoken history tells it, this shit went on for some years until one night in eighteen-eighty-six when there was a hell of a storm and the hotel was hit by lightning. They say that's what turned the outside of the place black, but that's not all. At the time, Faldor and his freaks were in the basement having one of their orgies and that's where they were all found- dead."