ONE

Jack King glanced at his watch and sighed with relief. He turned off his computer, locked the drawers of his cabinets and desk, turned off his radio, and stood up, yawning. He pulled on his jacket, picked up his briefcase, and stepped out of his high walled cubicle.

At four, the office was already empty. It was a government building, after all, and a warm, sunny Friday afternoon.

As he walked up the quiet aisle towards the elevators he felt a small tingling of excitement in his chest, and his groin stirred weakly in anticipation of the evening’s sport.

He wasn’t quite sure how the hunting parties had begun. He and Bill had always resented the self absorbed, jumped up, arrogant little tarts who had, since junior high, ignored them for prettier, handsomer, wealthier boys and men. As they grew older their anger had only grown deeper, and, feeding off each other, they had idly plotted and suggested ways of getting their own back, of fulfilling their many fantasies, and teaching a few of the sluts their place in life.

The first had been a Chinese girl, specifically because she was Chinese. Jack had majored in Sociology, and knew a good deal about the habits of minority groups. He and Bill had talked it over for quite some time, and he had been able to convince his friend that if the stigma against losing her virginity would keep any Chinese girl quiet about whatever they chose to do to her. A Chinese girl who wasn’t a virgin had little chance of becoming married - at least to a Chinese man. There would be enormous shame and loss of face were it to become known she had been “abused” by men.

And just to make sure, absolutely sure, the two had made the experience so humiliating, so shameful, so degrading, that the last thing the girl would have wanted to do would have been to tell anyone what had happened to her.

It had been exhilarating. The freedom to do whatever they chose to the beautiful young Chinese girl had left them both wild with excitement and the joy of power and sexual ownership. And afterwards, they’d looked for any sign of police knowledge. There hadn’t been any.

That had been the first, but far from the last. And then Frank had become involved. Frank was an old friend of Bill’s, but Jack had rapidly grown to like his style, even if he was a trifle mean spirited for Jack’s taste. Jack, after all, resented the beautiful, brainless (in his opinion) sluts who acted as though the world owed them a living, but Frank - Frank hated them. That was all right, in its way. Frank had some very unique and imaginative methods for ensuring their prey kept their experiences to themselves, and often some darkly exciting punishments for the young pretties, too.

He rode the elevator down to the garage, climbed into his car, started it up and drove home, wondering where to start that day. He'd have to discuss it with Bill and Frank, of course. They'd have their own thoughts on the matter. They always had to compromise when it came to the hunting parties. Still, they made a great team, each with his strengths and weaknesses.

He turned into his driveway and got out, strode across the lawn and into the house, then went straight upstairs to the master bedroom. Susan wasn't home from work yet, and wouldn't be for several hours. She had ambition, did Susan, and worked long hours of overtime. At first he’d complained, but since he’d found other means of occupying himself, he had come to find her long absences convenient.

Jack carefully removed his clothes, examined them thoughtfully, threw the shirt into the laundry hamper, hung up the trousers and jacket, and put the tie aside, before hurrying into the shower. He stopped briefly to gaze at his hairy body in the mirror, the thick, too strong jaw, heavy, barrel chest, and the belly showing the roundness of too much time behind a desk He chuckled as he fondled his thick cock, which hung down from a mass of black curly hair. That was still in great shape, the only part of him which got plenty of exercise these days.

He showered quickly, munched a quick sandwich, then drove across town to the lodge

The lodge was an old stone garage in run down, industrial section of town. Before it was a garage it had been part of an old factory. After the factory burned down there had been little use for the garage, and so it had cost them almost nothing to rent.

Eventually the owners would sell the vacant lot next door, and probably the garage with it, but that was okay. They’d just move on and find a new home.

The garage door slid up automatically at the touch of his remote, then slid back down again behind him as he pulled to a halt in the corner. He saw Bill's Chevy already there and looked around for him. He wasn't in sight but Jack knew he was already downstairs.

He slammed the door, the sound echoing in the cold, empty stone room, and trotted down the stairs. The big steel door at the bottom had been pushed aside and music was coming from the lounge down the narrow hall. The basement had once contained offices divided by thin plywood walls. They had removed most of them but for a few small rooms containing specialized equipment. The centre of the room now contained a large screen television and VCR, large, comfortable recliners, a sofa, pool table, several old fashioned pinball games and, of course, a bar.

"Good evening, Mister Smith." He grinned as he came into the room.

"Good evening, Mister Jones." Bill grinned back. He opened the small fridge behind the bar, pulled out a beer and tossed it to him.

Jack popped it and drank deep.

"Where's our friend, Mr. White."

"Keep your pants on, Jack. He'll get here."

"What are you looking for today? Anything special?"

"Not sure. I'm open."

"I saw an incredible prospect a couple of nights ago."

"Where?"

"Just down the street from my place."

"Don't be an idiot, Jack. You know the rules. Nobody who lives or works anywhere near us."

"I know. I know. But, you should see this one."

"There's plenty of young cunt out there, man."

"So much pussy, so little time," a new voice said.

"About time you showed up," Jack snorted.

"Hey, Frank," Bill called, tossing him a beer.

"How's it going, professor?"

"Not too bad. Not too bad."

"So, gentlemen, what are we looking for tonight?"

"How about another smart ass college girl?" Bill suggested.

"I was thinking of a nice, virginal little schoolgirl." Frank leered fondly.

"There’s a nice edge to the panic on their faces,” Jack admitted. “But they tend to be goddam tight. Too tight.”

"Why don't we just cruise and see what pops up?" Bill said.

The three went back upstairs and got into the van, with Jack driving. The garage door rolled up and they drove out, headed for the hunting grounds.

They saw a number of likely prospects along the way, but nothing they could agree on. Jack pulled up across the street from one of their prime hunting grounds, McGilford Junior College.

The van they occupied was a five year old dodge, painted light blue. It looked like thousands of similar vans on the street, though inside it had been modified to some degree. There were, for example, several small holes in the side, which appeared to be from rust. However, small TV cameras looked out from them.

The three men sat in the curtained off rear of the van, carefully scanning the prey as it exited the school.

“There’s a likely contender,” Frank said, pointing at a small blonde.

The camera zoomed in on an adorable face, then a tight, round bottom.

"What an ass! That's the roundest little ass I've ever seen!"

"Nahhh," Frank said. "That's a bit small."

"Are you nuts? Look at the tits on that whore!"

"I'm looking for something with a bit more meat on her," Bill said.

"That little cunt needs to be pumped!"

"They all need to be pumped, Frank. We can't pump em' all."

"Hey, how about that one there, the redhead?" Bill suggested, looking at a mini-skirted girl.

"She's with people. We want one alone."

"Yeah, we don't grab them from the middle of the flock, Bill," Jack said. "We pick em' off from around the edges."

"Okay, there's one." Frank smiled. He focussed in on a brunette with masses of curly brown tresses. She was wearing a thin, tight sweater and jeans. The chest of the sweater pushed out firmly, displaying an ample bosom. Frank zoomed in on her chest and they watched them moving up and down as she walked.

"Nice. Look at those tits jiggle," Jack hummed.

"Gotta be nice'n big," Bill said.

"And firm, nice and big and firm and round."

The camera eased back and they watched her smile at another girl, then part at the sidewalk, going in opposite directions.

"Nice meat on those bones," Bill said.

"Swing that ass, slut," Frank said with a grin.

"Tits like that... she's gotta get fucked."

"Yeah."

"I wanna fuck those tits."

"Who doesn't."

"Nice face, nice tits, from what we can see nice body overall, and she's alone. What say, guys? Should we bag this slut and show her what's what?" Frank said.

"Go for it," Bill grunted.

"Yeah, let's go grab the whore," Jack nodded, pushing through the curtain and starting the van.