It was a cold, rainy fall night, late in 1930. The Great Depression had just begun and it grew worse with each passing day. Chapel Hills, New York was fifty miles from New York City, the once financial capital now the capital of despair. Chapel Hills had been spared some of the anguish initially, but now it had spread like a locust and threatened to consume the world.
For some, the Great Depression was an opportunity. It was these men that gathered that night at Judge Winston Salisbury’s house. It was the first meeting of Chapel Hills Orphanage, though the name hadn’t been decided on yet. The Judge’s house was an estate outside of town, surrounded by 200 acres of land, private and secluded. He lived with his wife of forty years. His two girls were grown, one lived in Paris, the other had moved to San Francisco. He saw them infrequently. He was the magistrate of the county for over thirty years and had amassed the power as well as the wealth. He sipped his brandy in his study. The smell of cigars mixed with the wood of the massive bookcases that covered the walls. His massive desk took up the center of the room as well as his leather chair that sat behind it.
John Watkins sat on the leather couch, trying to dry off from the rain as he sipped his brandy. It felt good as it went down. As Mayor of Chapel Hills, he was responsible for the well-being of the community and its citizens, but it had become increasingly difficult for the town to make ends meet. Even when he raised taxes, revenue dropped; more people unable to pay them. Foreclosures by the banks had dwindled the number of residents. Basic services were being cut and there was no money for social programs. Luckily, he held his job for another three years so he would be comfortable, no matter what happened. He lived in the Mayors house in town with his wife Ethel and his two children, John and Joseph, four and six years old.
Sheriff Evan Blake sat on one of the fine wood and leather chairs, uncomfortable in such regal surroundings. He still didn’t know why he was here, but he dare not offend the most influential men of the community. Not if he wanted to be reelected again. He grew up in Chapel Hills from modest means but over the years as the chief constable, he had managed to fatten his wallet. In small towns, there was always ways to make money, especially if visitors happen to fall into his jail. With the depression, people were on the move, looking for any work. He took advantage of their plight, especially those with attractive wives or good-looking daughters.
Walter Astor had been here often. He was friends with Judge Salisbury since they grew up together and he was instrumental in getting Judge Salisbury his judgeship over three decades ago and he had been beholden to him since that day. Even though the depression had taken part of his fortune, he had planned well, as though he expected it to happen. That is why he was so rich and powerful. He closed factories and laid off people, not caring about anyone except himself. At sixty, he was fit. His wife had passed away a year ago; his only son cut him off, blaming him for his mother’s death. He was often alone except for the servants in his estate ten miles away. It made Judge Salisbury’s estate look like a small bungalow. It was he and Judge Salisbury that hatched this plot and they needed the help of the Mayor and Sheriff. He knew everything there was to know about them.
Walter spoke first after everyone got comfortable. “I want to thank you all for coming out on such a terrible night. The Great Depression is upon us, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Judge Salisbury and I have had discussions on how we can serve the town of Chapel Hills and at the same time allow us to make money doing it. Along with other added benefits that I will discuss later. The plight of the homeless grows worse each day. Sheriff Blake fills his cells with vagrants, but as he releases one, two more are arrested. Mayor Watkins cannot fund the social services that the people need, our children are being deserted on the streets and we have no place for them to go.”
“I agree with you fully, Mr. Astor.” Mayor Watkins chimed in like a good politician.
“Call me, Walter. Everyone call me Walter.”
“I think we are going to become very close, so when we are alone, call me Winston instead of Judge Salisbury.”
“That is kind of you, Sir,” Evan said. “Call me Evan.”
“What do you have in mind, Walter?” John said, curious of this meeting.
“I, we, are proposing an orphanage for Chapel Hill. We are in great need immediately. Winston has two buildings not far from here on his land. They can be fixed up within a month.”
“How will we pay for this? The town has no money.” That has always been John’s problem with every solution.
“We have to be creative. Winston and I will fund the initial outlay to get it going, but we’ll need to secure an income stream to keep it funded sufficiently.”
“Who will pay you to take care of orphans? The federal government is as broke as we are.” John still saw no light at the end of the tunnel.
“That is the creative part. We’ll only take in orphans between the ages of ten and thirteen. We will mainly take in girls, but we will also take, at a lesser degree, boys in the same age range. They must be clean and fit, we wouldn’t take the sick or deformed.”
“Are you going to put them to work? There aren’t jobs for anyone.”
“I and others that have wealth like to indulge in certain, shall we say, activities that might not be condoned if it came into the light of day. With the children cloistered in our own orphanage, I am sure that we can raise sufficient monies each month to care for the children, plus a bit more.” He could see the feigned look of disgust on the Sheriff and Mayor’s faces. “Don’t look that way, gentlemen. Judge Salisbury and I both know that you, Sheriff Blake often take advantage of the women that end up in your cells. You are not married and from what I understand, the younger the better for you. As for you Mayor, it is no secret to me that though you have two young boys of your own, you do have a particular liking for young boys and their tight asses.” The look of shock was gone, now it was embarrassment. “I like the pleasure of a young girl, tight little immature cunts to fuck. Judge Salisbury loves both, enjoying it best when he has a brother and sister to abuse at the same time.”
“What do you plan to do to them?” Sheriff Blake couldn’t stop his cock from rising up. In his jail, it wasn’t very often he got them that young. Ten to thirteen, sure that he would find many virgins to take.
“Anything we desire, and that is desired by our benefactors. The children will be disciplined severely and subject to intimate inspections and sexual abuse. They will be available for any man or woman that wants them, in any manner they want. Boys will be used by women that want to abuse their genitals and force them to cum so many times that it becomes painful. Their anus will be penetrated with fingers and with many bigger things including punishment enemas. And they will be greased up for any man that wants the pleasure of their tight, hot ass with their cock. Girls will be taught to take a man in all of her holes. She will be whipped, caned or flogged, including severe beatings on their most intimate parts.” He could see that all of the men had stopped breathing as they took in the list of the most degrading and painful acts that would be committed on the young boys and girls.
He continued. “We will hold private showings of the children being punished and the audience can enjoy their screams and erotic struggles as they try to escape. They will suffer not only the pain, but the humiliation of a packed audience watching the degrading and painful acts committed on their young, nubile bodies.”
John didn’t know how he knew about his perversion, but there was no use denying it. “I must say that I am intrigued by the thought of such a place. I think it would be beneficial to the town and the people that would find its services to be of value.”
“As Sheriff, I can give you all my resources to make sure that I find the most desirable, young, fit children for the orphanage. Judge Salisbury can sentence them officially to the orphanage for their care and well-being. I will personally pick out the most desirable.”
Judge Salisbury nodded in agreement. Then we’re all on board. “I think it is appropriate that we call it the Astor Orphanage of Chapel Hills.”
“Here here,” they all agreed.
That fateful night, the Astor Orphanage was born in the minds of four depraved men, but it would quickly spread to many more. Women, as well as men would pay dearly for the privilege.