The Panty Raid

A couple of the men had gone pro, following college, and although they'd not been reallybignames, they did okay. All but one of the others eventually went into more traditional business management jobs, trading on their college basketball successes to get preferential treatment from older alumni. All of the men I located were married, and had been successful in their careers.

It had been difficult to locate the last man on the list. He hadn't been that good an athlete, and after his scholarship ran out, he joined the Army. He had a tour of duty in SE Asia, near the end of the Viet Nam debacle, and was mustered out on arrival in Los Angeles at the end of his tour. The trail ended there, for a long time.

After much more research, it turned out that he was dead, and apparently no one who had been close to him knew it. He had gone to sea on a commercial freighter, and eventually ended his days dying from syphilis in a remote country with inadequate medical care. Too much justice. His demise, and the fact that he'd just dropped out of sight, however, made it easier for the plan to work.

When I began working out my plan for revenge, I had no plans to remarry. Nadine changed all that, and it complicated things somewhat. I had intention of abandoning my self-imposed mission, though, so the wedding became a part of the plan.

I knew that when the shit hit the fan, my name would be on the short list of people the police would want to meet, so I needed an airtight alibi. I began building that alibi, by scheduling myself to attend a week-long conference of plastic and cosmetic surgeons, to be held in June, in Chicago. The wedding date I negotiated with Nadine and her family was Wednesday of the week after the conference.

When I made my travel arrangements, I booked all the flights for everyone who was to be involved in the wedding. I arranged for Nadine to visit her parents, in Philadelphia, during the week I was to be in Chicago. I set up the flights, so that Nadine, her parents, and mine, had a stopover in Los Angeles, where I would hook up with them. We were all on the same flight to Honolulu, where the parents would stay all week, and Nadine and I would stay, until the day of the wedding.

The wedding itself was to be held on Molokai, and as honeymooners, we would spend the rest of the week alone, in a shore side cottage, before returning home.

Coincidently, one Rabbi Josef Silverman booked a round-trip flight from Indianapolis to the Orlando. The trip was to take place starting Tuesday evening of the week of my conference.

Using the dead athlete's identity, I reserved two adjoining suites in the college town's best hotel, guaranteeing the room charges on a credit card that I had acquired using that name. Funny, the dead man and the Rabbi had the same address!

Having inside information about my targets' habits, I knew that the week of the conference would find them all available to participate in my plans. I sent each of them an invitation to a reunion, under the dead man's name. Those invitations contained the words "Remember what happened several times, in the women's dorm, during my last year at college? Come help me celebrate and talk about it. Bring your ladies, too."

I hoped that the targets would recognize the implied threat. They all had reputations to protect. It worked, and the confirmations began flowing in. There were no holdouts.

While all this was going on, I had decided the form that my vengeance would take, and began accumulating the necessary materials and equipment, as well as studying the technical aspects of what I intended to do.

...

Everything was ready, and the time was ripe. On Sunday, before the conference was to begin, Nadine and I went to the airport, and I put her on her flight and went to wait for mine. In the gate area, I made it a point to introduced myself and talk to the airline personnel, as well as several other passengers on my flight.

Call me a cad, but Imuchprefer to talk to pretty young women. I met a couple of girls traveling together, and chatted them up, letting them think I was hitting on them. I even gave them my business card, and wrote their names and phone numbers down in my diary, as potential future customers.

I lucked out on the plane, and my seat-mate was a rather attractive older woman, who was eager to pass the flight time in conversation. In short order she had most of my life's story, and was justthrilledto hear of my wedding plans.

"Oh! I wish my John had been that romantic," she gushed, then she went on to tell me all about her courtship and wedding, her three children, two of whom were underclassmen at my old school, and her husband's plan for retirement. By the time we landed, she had a half-dozen of my business cards to pass out to "friends" who she felt might benefit from my services, and I, of course, had another contact name, address, and phone number. The first stage of my alibi was completed, and I had solid witnesses to the fact that I had taken my flight to Chicago.

On arrival at O'Hare, I went directly to the rental car counter to pick up my keys. While I was there, I got into a lengthy discussion with the clerk (much to the disgust of the waiting crowd) about potential things to do and see around Chicago. Having been there before, I had already seen most of them, but that wasn't the point. Finishing that, I picked up my luggage and drove to the conference hotel. I chose valet parking and tipped well, insuring that the men doing the parking would remember my arrival.

I checked into the hotel, spending enough time at it to insure that the young woman behind the counter would easily remember me.

I spent that evening, and the next, as well as all day Tuesday, doing all of the things that people normally do at conferences: I went to all the mixers, glad-handed people I knew, who had somehow become important in my profession, and generally made my presence known. None of the people I met were close friends, so while the time I spent with them ensured that they would remember my presence at the conference, I wasn't important enough to them for my absence to be noticed, when the time came for me to temporarily leave.

Throughout the preceding year or so, I had occasionally stopped in at costume shops scattered across my home city, buying odds and ends that I thought might help me in my quest. I had brought many of these items with me, in a separate suitcase. Just after the Tuesday afternoon plenary started, I slipped out unnoticed and went to my room. Twenty minutes later, a fellow, who appeared to be an aging hippie, sauntered casually out the front door of the hotel with suitcase in hand, and walked down the street to a nearby car rental office.

...

It was about a three-hour drive to Indianapolis, and I only made one stop on the way down. No one at the Big Boy restaurant seemed to notice that the hippie who went into the restroom with a suitcase, never came out; or that the Rabbi who exited was carrying the same suitcase.

I made it to the airport barely in time to catch my flight - that is the Rabbi's flight - to Orlando, leaving the car in short-term parking. The flight was noteworthy only because of the boredom it engendered. Eventually, we arrived, and I went to yet another car rental counter. While there, I got the clerk to give me a map showing directions to the hotel where my dead persona had rooms reserved. Before leaving the airport, the Rabbi went back into hibernation, and the hippie resurfaced.

I drove to a part of Orlando that I was familiar with from my undergraduate days, and contacted a fellow I had heard about and seen before, but with whom I'd never done business. He was a pimp.

There were several of his ladies present, and I chose a very pretty black girl, ostensibly for a Rabbi who didn't want to be seen in these parts. For five hundred dollars, half payable up front, the pimp agreed to send her to my hotel at the prescribed time, for the entire next evening. In a different town it would have been more - she was that good-looking - but there was simply too much free pussy available to support higher prices here.

Still in my hippie persona, I drove to the hotel, about an hour down the road, and checked in, using the dead guy's name. Once checked in, I went for a walk around campus. I spent my time there talking to young, white male students, paying particular attention to those who seemed to be somewhat athletic.

I eventually go around to working on my purpose, and I suggested that I could get them all the clean, married pussy they could handle for one evening, if they followed my directions exactly. I also told them that if I didn't make good on the pussy, I would give them each $100 for their time. Needless to say, my conversations yielded a number of willing bodies to help me do my thing.

I spent the rest of the day preparing the suites for my purposes.

...

My guests began arriving starting at noon the next day and all had arrived by six pm. Each of them asked at the desk about the host for the event, and was told that he had arrived, but was away for the afternoon, and that they would be contacted very soon with instructions for the meeting. Shortly after six, I had messages delivered to each of their rooms, asking that they meet in my adjoining suite at seven that evening.

When the hooker discreetly arrived at my door, I asked again about her fee, and like any good business person would do, she tried to run it up an extra hundred for the drive over. I laughed and told her that I was not going to use her sexually, but that I needed a hostess for the evening activities, and would give her $1000 if she did exactly as I said. I told her a sob story about a dead classmate, and a last wish that I was trying to fulfill. She agreed, with the proviso that if things got kinky, I would have to pay even more. We spent the next little while coaching her in her role.

My guests and their wives showed up at the suite on time, and were greeted by the hooker. She introduced herself as the wife of their host, and dutifully told them that he had been called away briefly on an urgent mission, but that he would return momentarily. Per my instructions, she made sure that each person was given a prepared drink, and she led them in a toast to the host.

Following that, she informed the ladies that all of the women were invited to go to a musical production by the university arts department, while the men talked about boring old times. That idea was met with some enthusiasm by the women, and relief by the men.

As a result of my preparations, the room was wired for sound. I heard the toast and the invitation and when it wasn't followed up by coaxing from the hooker for the guests to finish their cocktails, I called her on the room phone with further instructions

When she broke the connection, she turned to the guests and told them to that the host had had an automobile breakdown and she had to go retrieve him. They were told to help themselves to the bar and the hors devours. After telling them to enjoy themselves, she left them to their own devices and returned to the Rabbi's room. He paid her the agreed-upon fee, including the promised $1000, gave her an extra $500, as well, and told her to take the night off. She left feeling pleased.

After she left, I changed back into the Rabbi, and he went back to the monitors to listen in on my guests. After a few minutes of hearing nothing, I decided that the drugs I'd placed in the drinks had done their work. The men and their wives would be unconscious by now. The drug acted rapidly enough that they wouldn't have been able to leave the room, but slowly enough to allow them to find comfortable positions without injuring themselves... I hoped.

I slowly opened the door between the suites, listening for any noise indicating movement. Hearing none, I quietly entered and looked around, finding that everything had gone according to plan. All of my guests were unconscious, and in no danger of injury at the moment.

I brought in my bag of tricks, and used its contents to securely bind and gag each person in the room, and then I bolted the hall door and moved all of the inert bodies to one of the bedrooms, using a wheelchair I had copped from housekeeping. The guys were big, and it was hard work, but I managed it.

I arranged the men on one of the king-sized beds, and the women, facing them, on the other, and fastened their bindings to parts of the furniture so that they couldn't roll off the beds, then I administered some smelling salts to rouse my captive audience.

Chapter 3

Their reactions were predictable, but as they came around, I moved to the center of the room, and in full view of the entire assemblage, affixed a silencer to the pistol I'd brought along for the occasion. Their fear immediately calmed them down enough to listen to me, the man who literally held their lives in his hands. If possible, I intended to recruit the men's wives' assistance in the administration of their husbands' punishment.

In my best Yiddish character, I began to tell a story, about a young Jewish girl named Jesse, who was among those victimized by the men. That part of the story was true, and a convenient red herring concerning my identity. After describing her rape, and eventual suicide, as told to my "researchers," I told them about having identified the missing member and supposed host of the gathering, and having had him beaten by hired thugs, until the man confessed the crime, naming all of the other conspirators.

I told them that he had admitted having been part of the same type of crime, along with those men, on several occasions. Then I told them that I'd killed the man, and come after the rest. Admittedly, much of that tale was fabricated, but it suited my purposes for them to believe it. Finally, I opened a sheet of paper, and read a list of names of the women who had been raped by the group of men.

"These women were all victims of the same kind of abuse from these men," I told their wives. I folded the paper and returned it to my pocket and grimly asked them, "What do you think I should do with them, hmmmm?"

The women, who had listened wide-eyed to my story, looked to their husbands to deny the accusations, but the men refused to meet their eyes. The fear that had been on the women's faces gradually changed to confusion, then anger at, and finally, hatred for their men.

When they'd had enough time to come to grips with the situation, I told the men that they might as well be dead already, that any of them that still had a pulse after I left, would have very little else going for them.

"This is for Jesse. It will do no good to bring in the police. I will be far away, in another country before they could find me," I told them.

Turning to the women, I made my pitch to them.

"You can be part of the punishment of these men if you want. If not, that's okay. No hard feelings, they will just be left to die anyway, so no big deal."

Each of the women had themselves been frequently mistreated by their respective husbands, but had felt helpless to do anything about it. Finding out about the rapes had pissed them off royally. They all agreed to help.

Turning back to the men, I identified the ring leaders and assigned each man a relative amount of responsibility for the past events. In my mind I ordered their punishments, so that those who had more of the responsibility were last in the sequence to be punished. I wanted the leaders to see, over and over again, what was going to happen to them.

I opened my bag again, and withdrew a vial and a syringe.

"Remember the botulism scare in the seventies?" I asked my audience. "You know, all that tomato soup that had to be boiled uncovered for ten solid minutes, because some folks died?'

I saw several heads nodding, so I went on.

"Well, this substance is the same as the toxin that was in that soup. It comes from a bacterium that I am told is namedClostridium Botulanum. It seems to be related somehow to the one that causes Tetanus.

"Anyway, there is a lot of research going on with the botulin toxin, and it shows a lot of promise for medical uses. The way I'm going to use it here today, has no medical benefit for you."

I filled the syringe with a minute amount of the toxin. One by one, I went to each of the men, and administered the shots to several critical points in their nervous systems. As we waited for the toxin to do its work, I spoke to the ladies.

"In a few minutes these men will be paralyzed and voiceless, as well as unable to close their eyelids. For the moment, they are still able to achieve an erection, but that, alas will be a temporary condition. They will, however, be able to see, hear, and feel pain. These effects will be permanent and irreversible. To survive, these men will have to have constant care."

Turning to the women, I said "Your part in their punishment, if you wish, is to enjoy sex with men of my choosing, in full view of your incapacitated husbands. Whether you chose to help or not, you will remain restrained until I am done, and you will be released as I depart. Any who wish to refrain from participating, please tell me now."

Surprisingly, no one opted out.

I excused myself and returned to the suite's sitting area. I called the number for the bar where my team of college boys were waiting, and asked for Harry. Moments later, I recognized the voice of the young man who was acting as my liaison with the team. I told him the room number, and that the boys should arrive in groups of two or three, separated by a few minutes. Five minutes later, I let three of them in, and told them to sit on the sofa until the others arrived.

I had recruited ten boys, but there were twelve who showed up, and some were getting a little impatient by the time they had all arrived. Nonetheless, they were mostly well-behaved.

"Okay guys," I said, "we all know what you're here for. Lest there be any confusion on your parts, this is going to be anorgy. There are some rules, though, and you shouldn't underestimate my ability to enforce them." Several of the guys gasped as I showed them the handgun.

"Now here's the deal. Everyone will get to leave here unharmed, as long as we all obey the rules. Nobody has to participate, but nobody leaves until the party is over. Any of you who have changed your mind about getting laid, please go into that room, and watch TV for awhile," I said, pointing to one of the unoccupied bedrooms.

"Anyone who is body-shy should also go with them," I added. "If it bothers you to be naked in front of others, or to have people see you fucking, you shouldn't be here anyway." Nobody moved, so I continued.

"Okay," I said, "here are the rules. First is, everybody but me has to get naked."

There was some grumbling about "Where are the girls?" and "Is this guy some kind of pervert, or what?"

"Look," I said, "We've already been over this. You don't want to get naked, go watch TV. The girls are here, and they'll come out when I bring them, not before. I'll explain someafterwe finish going over the rules." Still nobody opted out, and eventually all of the boys were naked. I was pleased to see that most of them were well hung, and apparently ready to rock.

"Okay, so the second rule is, nobody does anything they don't want to do. No forcing, understand?" I put my hand on my pocket, and the boys nodded furiously.

"Third, if you get tired of fucking and want to drop out, you go watch TV in that room until I decide everybody is done."

"Fourth, other than the TV room and the bathroom," I indicated where that was, "Nobody leaves this room until I say so. There's plenty to eat and drink on the counter over there."

"Finally, when I say it's over,it's over, understand?" I finished, grimly. The boys understood and acknowledged.