Depravicus

by Ray Gordon

"Yes, I love you too."

  That was a turn up for the books, he reflected, unable to believe Josie's change of attitude. She'd virtually given him carte blanche to do what the hell he liked in her shrine-like dining room. Well, not quite. Wandering into the bar, he gazed at Lana, scrutinizing her very short, red skirt, her partially-opened white blouse. Recalling the double fisting she'd enjoyed, he felt that the time had come to subject the nymph to another bout of anal and vaginal abuse. She really did know how to enjoy her body, he thought, wondering whether he could get both fists up her tight arse. She was a godsend in more ways than one. Suggesting that she rip her clothes off and bend over the bar, he lifted his cassock and exposed his rampant erection to the girl.

  "No, not now," she sighed. "I have work to do."

  "Just a quick anal fisting and a..."

  "No, Will," she returned firmly. "The fruit machine will be here soon. I can't have your fist up my bottom when it arrives. By the way, I've ordered a couple of barrels of lager and three bitters."

  "Where from?"

  "The wholesaler I used when I worked in a pub last year. Oh, and I've ordered a cylinder of gas. We need some..."

  "Some girls?" Will broke in.

  "Girls?" she echoed.

  "Prostitutes. For my little business venture in the shed."

  "You are awful," she giggled.

  "So, do you know any prossies?"

  "Certainly not."

  "That's a shame. OK, I'll just have to advertise in the parish mag."

  "You can't do that."

  "You just watch me. Wanted. Girls for sessions of sex. Apply in writing to..."

  "Ah, that'll be the fruit machine," Lana broke as the front doorbell rang. "You get back to your shed of sin and I'll deal with it."

  Back in the shed Will couldn't believe how well things were going. Lana was an amazing girl, and an amazing fuck. Josie was happy, the bar was running smoothly... Noticing the bushes moving as he happened to glance out of the small window in the back wall of the shed, he made out that he was busy with something as he watched out of the corner of his eye. Again, the bushes moved, a branch moving aside as someone peered at the shed. Not sure what to do, he left the shed and stood in the middle of the lawn. Ambling down the garden, he stopped by the bushes, making out that he was looking at the flower beds.

  Whoever was hiding in the bush daren't move, Will knew as he sat on the grass and made out that he was relaxing beneath the summer sun. Sure that the voyeur was female as he caught a whiff of perfume in the air, he wondered where Lolita had got to. Lana was in the house, Lolita had said that she was going into the village. Lolita wouldn't hide in the bushes. That left Esra, Levan, Marianne... Disinformation, he mused, deciding to mumble to himself for the benefit of the spy.

  "What to do with the body?" he sighed. "Bury it in the garden, I suppose." The bushes rustling, he concealed a grin. "I'll have to leave it in the shed until it gets dark." Climbing to his feet, he wandered back to the house and went into the kitchen. The voyeur was bound to take a look in the shed, he knew as he spied through the kitchen window. He was right. A teenage girl he'd never seen before emerged from the bushes and look about her. Clutching a handbag, she crept across the lawn and slipped into the shed. Leaving the house, Will stole across the lawn and closed the shed door. Clicking the padlock, he rubbed his hands together and returned to the kitchen for a well-earned can of lager.

  He'd deal with the intruder later, he decided, swigging from the can. There was no rush. Besides, the girl had a mattress to sleep on, and vibrators and sex toys to play with should she become bored. But who the hell was she? She was tall with short black hair, dressed in a miniskirt and tight T-shirt clinging to her lovely breasts. He'd have remembered if he'd seen a raving beauty like her around the village. Cumsdale was attracting more girls than a netball match attracted men hoping for a glimpse of navy-blue knickers. But why?

  Finishing his lager as Lana opened the front door to the fruit machine men, Will was impatient to discover the identity of his prisoner in the shed. Leaving the kitchen he walked across the lawn and hovered outside the shed door. He could hear the girl moving about, mumbling something to herself as she tried in vain to open the door. Finally releasing the padlock, Will burst in to find the girl cowering on the mattress in the corner.

  "And who might you be?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

  "I was looking for number twenty-three and..."

  "Shed number twenty-three?"

  "No, no."

  "OK, I want the truth," Will hissed. "You've been lurking in the bushes, spying on me."

  "No, I..."

  "Unless you want me to rip your knickers off and shove them up your wet pussy, you'll tell me who you are and what you're up to."

  "I can't tell you. Please, you must let me go."

  "I'll start by ripping your T-shirt off and forcing it up your rectum."

  "All right, all right," she sighed. "But you must promise not to tell Josie."

  "Josie?" he gasped. "You know Josie?"

  "She's... she's my sister."

  "I didn't know she had a sister."

  "She has now."

  "So what are you doing? I mean, why hide in the bushes instead of coming into the house and introducing yourself?"

  "I'm checking up on you. Josie asked me to keep an eye on you and tell her if you screw around. From what I've seen..."

  "You'll say nothing," Will interrupted the girl. "In fact, you will say something. You'll tell her that I've been a model..."

  "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 spu
nk, 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.

  Chapter Ten

  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..."