Depravicus (22 page)

"I'm not going
to lie," she snapped. "Thinking about it, I've got you just where I
want you. I hold the balance of your relationship in the palm of my
hand."

"I'll hold
your shaved fanny in the palm of my hand if you threaten me
again."

"My fanny
isn't shaved."

"It bloody
well will be in a minute. What's your name?"

"Jenny."

"Right, Jenny.
First of all, take your clothes off."

"Certainly
not. If you think you're going to fuck me the way you fuck every
other girl around here..."

"I don't
think, I know."

"Bollocks."

"Yes, thanks.
OK, I'll be back later this evening. No doubt you'll be hungry by
then. Hungry for my cock, that is."

"It's hot in
here, I need a drink."

"You'll be
having a drink later. A drink of fresh, creamy spunk."

"You can't
leave me locked in..."

"Bye."

Leaving the
shed and locking the door as the girl spat expletives at him, Will
returned to the house. There was nothing better than having some
fresh fanny in stock, he mused. Josie's sister? Josie had said that
she'd phoned someone in the village, he recalled. But she'd also
said that she'd noticed a girl lurking in the lane. None of it made
sense, he thought, taking the last can of lager from the fridge.
Josie was an only child. "Jenny had a handbag," he breathed,
dashing out to the shed again. "I'll bet the cow has a..." Pressing
his ear to the shed door, he grinned.

"I'm on my
mobile phone," the girl said. "You must get me out of here. Climb
over the fence at the bottom of the garden and you'll see the shed.
OK, get her to go to the front door and keep him talking. I think
it's a padlock. Yes, bring a crowbar or something. OK, see you
soon."

Back in the
kitchen Will rubbed his hands together. If he was lucky, he'd
capture whoever was going to attempt to free the girl. He had to
come up with a plan, he mused. If he managed to unlock the shed,
the girl's would-be rescuer would wander inside and - viola! He'd
get Lana to answer the front door, he decided, finding the girl in
the bar admiring the fruit machine. Explaining the plan to the
girl, he told her to keep their caller talking on the doorstep.
Slipping out to the shed once Lana had her instructions, Will
tentatively removed the padlock and hid between the side of the
shed and the garden fence.

Hearing the
front doorbell, he grinned. Within minutes, he'd have two prisoners
in his den of iniquity. What if it was a bloke? The Bishop might
like sucking cocks and swallowing spunk, but Will was only into
pussies. And girls' tight bottom-holes and their biteable nipples
and... Hearing movements, the shed door opening, he emerged from
his hide and pushed the door shut. Slipping the padlock through the
hook, he sniffed the air, wondering whether he could smell the
aroma of fresh pussy. Yes! he thought excitedly, spying through a
crack in the planking to take a look at his second prisoner.

Gazing at a
pretty teenage girl with blonde hair cascading down her back and
over the rise of her pert bum, Will could hardly believe his luck.
She was eminently fuckable, he observed, wondering what his
prisoners were going to do as they tried to open the door.
Returning to the house, Will discovered yet another little beauty
standing on the front doorstep talking to Lana. With fresh pussy
surrounding him, this was all too much to handle. His cock rising
beneath his cassock as he eyed the girl's naked thighs, he donned a
big smile.

"How may one
help one?" he asked as Lana returned to the bar. "Of what help may
one be?"

"Er... I'm
looking for Father Kosher's church and someone said that you might
be able to direct me," she breathed.

"Yes, of
course. It's down the lane, about a mile. You can't miss it."

"Oh, right.
Well, thank you."

"Any time. Is
he expecting you?"

"Er... Yes, he
is."

"That's odd.
He's away for the week so..."

"I've only got
to drop something off."

"Why not leave
it with me? I'll be seeing him when he returns."

"No, no...
I'll go to his church."

"The decision
is yours, my child. Yours is the decision."

"Yes, right...
Thank you again."

Watching the
girl walk down the path, Will wondered whether she had a mobile
phone in her bag. If the prisoners rang her... Three fresh pussies
in the shed, he thought happily, closing the front door. Deciding
that it was time for a quick rest, he went upstairs to the bedroom.
After an hour's sleep, he'd take a shower and then sample the
delights of his prisoners' teenage bodies. This was the life, he
mused, reclining on the bed and closing his eyes. Girls with wet
pussies and firm tits, Lana running the bar, fresh pussy in the
shed, Josie in Moscow... This was the life.

Lana gazed at
Will and sighed. "Will, wake up," she said, shaking his shoulder.
"Will, you have to wake up."

"What is it?"
he asked, opening one eye. "What's going on?"

"You've been
sleeping all day."

"Oh, God," he
breathed, leaping off the bed. "Why didn't you wake me
earlier?"

"I didn't know
you were up here. I thought you'd gone out. When I came up to the
bathroom... I think someone's hiding in the shed."

"It's OK, it's
the prisoners."

"Prisoners?"

"I can't
explain now. What time is it?"

"Six o'clock.
The bar's busy so I'd better get back."

"OK, OK. I'll
be down in a minute."

Taking a
shower, Will couldn't understand why he'd slept for so long. It was
probably a combination of the heat of the sun and the lager, he
thought, drying his naked body and wondering what to wear. And too
many rampant orgasms. The cassock had been half the problem, he
mused. The thick, black material was too much in the summer.
Thinking how lucky girls were to be able to wear miniskirts without
knickers, he opened Josie's dressing table drawer. Girls were able
to wear trousers or skirts, he thought, wondering what it was like
to possess a juice wet cunt. Better not, he mused, eyeing a
miniskirt and closing the drawer. He didn't want to get arrested.
Finally donning a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, he slipped into his
sandals and went down to the garden.

"Who's in
there?" he called through the shed door.

"Let us out,"
the girls cried in unison.

"Are you
robbers?" he asked. "I shall have to call the police."

"Of course
we're not bloody robbers."

"Identify
yourselves or I shall be forced to call the force and you'll be
dealt with forcefully."

"What the fuck
are you on about? I'm Jenny, your bloody prisoner."

"And I'm
Rachael," the second girl called. "Your other bloody prisoner."

"You'll have
to suck my cock before I allow you out."

"Fuck
off!"

"No suck, no
allowed out."

"Come on, it's
bloody hot in here."

"And I'll bet
it's bloody hot in your mouth. You'll suck me off or..."

"Go fuck
yourself."

Returning to the house Will grabbed a hammer from the cupboard
beneath the stairs. He'd give them
fuck
yourself
, he thought, racing out to the
garden. Smashing a large hole in the shed door, he tossed the
hammer to the ground. This was going to work well, he mused, his
penis stiffening, bulging his tight shorts. Standing against the
door, he tugged his shorts down and stuck his rock-hard cock
through the hole and ordered the girls to suck his knob. He'd
charge the punters ten-pounds a suck, he decided, again ordering
the girls to suck his knob. Unbeknown to him, there were a dozen
pairs of eyes staring at him through the dining room French
doors.

"Is he pissing
through the hole?" the Major asked.

"I dread to
think what he's doing," Lana sighed.

"Perhaps he's
wanking through the hole," someone chuckled, tapping on the window.
"Hey, Will! What are you doing with your cock stuck through that
hole?"

"Oh, er..."
Will gasped, spinning round and almost ripping his penis off. "I
was just..." Yanking his shorts up as Lana opened the French doors,
he wandered into the bar. "I was just testing my new
invention."

"Your cock's a
new invention?" the Major chuckled. "Sorry to disappoint you, old
man. But cocks have been around since time immemorial."

"Not my cock."
The daft old cunt. "The hole in the shed door is an innovative idea
of mine. In the shed are two... Yes, well. Has anyone played the
fruit machine yet?"

"Yes, and you
owe me a fiver," someone called. "The fucking thing won't pay
out."

"There's no
money in the machine," Lana sighed. "It needs filling up with
change before anyone can play it."

"Right," Will
smiled. "There's a simple way to solve that problem. Keep playing
the machine until it begins to pay out. OK, anything else need
sorting, Lana?"

"I don't think
so."

"In that case,
I'll get back to my innovative idea."

"Will," Lana
said, following him into the garden. "I don't think the punters are
happy."

"Oh? Why's
that? Do you like my hole?"

"Your
hole?"

"In the shed
door. It's a penile hole."

"I'm not
interested in your hole," she hissed. "I overheard a few of the
customers talking about the bar you had in the church
basement."

"Ah, yes.
Those were the days."

"They were
saying that you were always there, behind the bar, drinking,
chatting... They never see you now. Apart from the odd occasion
when you're sticking your cock into holes or sneaking around the
bushes down the garden."

"Ah, right,"
he smiled. "I suppose, it has been somewhat remiss of me to spend
all my time fucking. OK, I'll spend an hour or two in the bar."

Following the
girl back into the dining room he asked her for a large scotch and
plonked himself on a bar stool. What with all the fucking, not to
mention trying to determine who was after him and why, he realized
he'd neglected the punters. So much for starting his own church, he
mused, looking about at the drunkards. Realizing he'd not got a
balance between his church work and fucking pussies, he wondered
what to do.

"I want to
spread the good word, Lana," he said as she leaned on the bar, her
lovely tits squashed together, forming a fuckable cleavage.

"The good
word?" she frowned.

"Spread the
word of the Lord. You know, thou shalt not neglect to fuck thy
neighbour's cat and all that."

"Fuck thy
neighbour's... Are you really into religion?"

"Damnation, I
am. He's an OK geeza."

"Who?"

"The guvnor.
He's looked after me over the years. I mean, look at the wet pussy
that's been coming my way of late. He's been organizing that for
me."

"I think
you're mixing up God and Lucifer," she chuckled.

"No, no. Who
gave you your pussy?"

"No one gave
it to me. It was there when I was born."

"Of course
someone gave it to you. God maketh man."

"I'm a
girl."

"OK, God
maketh tarts."

"I am not a
tart," she returned indignantly. "Well, only a bit."

"Of course
you're a tart. All birds are tarts. All teenage girls with hairless
pussies are tarts, slags, whore-sluts... Anyway, that's not the
issue. God made your cunt."

"Shush, people
will hear you."

"Fuck them. He
also made my knob. Knobs spunk up cunts, right?"

"I suppose
so," she sighed. raising her eyes to the ceiling.

"In your case,
fists go up arses. However..."

"Don't be so
crude."

"Crudity was
given to man by God, the creator of all crudeness."

"Have you been
drinking a lot today?"

"No more than
usual. I'll have another large scotch, please. As I was saying, God
made tarts' cunts and blokes' knobs so that they could fuck rotten
and spunk and..."

"Yes, sir?"
Lana smiled, passing Will his scotch and moving along the bar to a
gentleman wearing a suit.

"Ah, you've
returned," Will smiled, eyeing the man who'd called into the bar
before. This was the bastard he'd thought to be a spy. "How's MI5
these days?"

"MI5?" the man
frowned. "I have no idea."

"Sorry, I must
be muddling you up with some other cunt... Bastard... I mean,
gentlemen. Where did you say you worked?"

"I
didn't."

"Oh, right.
Wait a minute. You were the man who suggested that I had a sideline
going. You asked me whether I knew any girls."

"Er... No, no.
That wasn't me. I've never been here before."

"You said
you'd meet the girls and me behind the..."

"I got lost. I
mean, I don't know what you're talking about. So, how's business?
The bar seems to be busy."

"It's always
busy," Will murmured, pushing his empty glass towards Lana.

"Taking lots
of tax-free cash, are you?"

"Tax-free?
Er... Certainly not. What are you, an Inland Revenue cunt? I mean,
employee? A fucking tax inspector? A fucking civil fucking servant?
A fucking cunt of a..."

"Will," Lana
hissed, passing him another large scotch.

"Oh, right.
So, what are you, Mr..."

"Mr
Smith."

"Yeah,
right."

"As it
happens, I'm in manufacturing."

"And what do
you manufacture? False figures so you can rip off honest working
people who..."

"Sex
toys."

"What?" Will
spluttered, almost choking on his scotch. "Sex toys?"

"Vibrators,
butt-plugs, anal stimulation devices, vaginal speculums,
nipple..."

"I don't
believe you."

"I don't give
a toss whether you believe me or not."