It was the usual slave auction, this one was today, in a half hour in fact.The face that struck me was a young blond woman. I recognized her instantly... she had been a cadet at a fleet check point a year before. If anyone knew what she was or had been she was dead. I was moving before I even realized what I was doing. I sighed as my mind caught up, "damn conscious."I walked into the auction house barely in time. After glancing at the displays to see how long before the blonde would be up I sat. Damn she was fucking cute & not a regular when I am there, she was rocking a nice sexy sweat & glistening. Fuck, my shorts were tightening & she was gazing at my crotch in the mirror because I was watching Thales sweet round little cheeks when given the opportunity. My fantasy now starts to permeate my mind & Steph looms in my thoughts as I know it's just not likely to happen again. I have been seduced by a few girls but partying naked created easy opportunities. I finally push my last set. " In the picturesque village of West Wycombe, in an area of rolling pastures and ancient woodland, some of the most sinister and debauched events in eighteenth century England took place. The notorious Hellfire Club, founded by Sir Francis Dashwood, would gather at the George and Dragon Hotel before moving their activities later in the night to the nearby West Wycombe caves.One night after closing time, Susan, the Inn's pretty, young, and obviously naive barmaid agreed to go with them. Maybe. The other was much the largest of the three, with a bit of a paunch on him. Both of them, too, wore suits, but without the ties; the big guy had an explosion of chest hair visible under his open collar, and his hands looked pretty furry as well. Cesar Romero wouldn't have worried me if I'd run into him on the street; I wouldn't have cared to meet either of the others in even a moderately lit alley.It appeared that Susan's—well, Ariel's—senator pal had a second team. From Cesar Romero's soft.