Susie Follows Orders

by Roger Quine

  ‘Yes, prayer. But he’s very old-fashioned about religion. He thinks we’ve missed our way and we need to get back to the roots of worship. We need to accept our own insignificance and humble ourselves before God,’ she said earnestly, sounding like an over-enthusiastic convert.

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘Yes. It’s very fulfilling. I’m a much more complete person now than I was before Andrew - before the vicar - arrived last year, and so are the others.’

  Meaning, Susie supposed, the rest of the bored young wives who hung on his every word. But she smiled brightly. ‘Wonderful,’ she enthused, wondering how she could get some of this interesting personal attention herself without appearing to be too keen and arousing suspicion. But she needn’t have worried.

  ‘Oh, good,’ Stephanie went on. Because Andr - the vicar - thinks you’re just the sort of person who’d benefit from our sessions as well.’

  ‘He does?’ said Susie.

  ‘Yes, he does. He mentioned it to me yesterday.’

  ‘During one of your sessions?’ The way Stephanie only simpered acknowledgement spoke volumes about the nature of her afternoon visit to the vicarage. ‘So, why me?’ asked Susie cautiously.

  ‘Well, apart from your obvious interest,’ Stephanie went on eagerly, ‘he knows it’s sometimes difficult when you’re so far away from your husband for so long. What with you being so young and, well, healthy. I mean, my husband’s only away during the week and he’s almost always here at weekends, but I still find it difficult to... manage.’ Stephanie’s smile was accompanied by a knowing look. ‘There are so many things you can do for yourself that are much better with two, don’t you agree?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ agreed Susie, with a sudden rush of heat between her thighs, ‘I understand.’ She looked down at Stephanie’s long legs disappearing under her skirt and for a moment imagined Stephanie pulling the material back to reveal pretty little knickers nestling between soft thighs, and reaching between them to pleasure herself during the lonely nights when her husband was away in town.

  ‘The vicar and I-’ she made it sound like a royal couple ‘-thought you would. And we really thought you’d benefit so much from our extra meetings.’

  Even though she’d known where the conversation was heading, Susie still felt a shock of surprise. There was no doubt about it; this was very much more than a polite invitation to tea and sandwiches. She was being sounded out for something altogether much more personal, and incredibly, it appeared the vicar was so much in control of his women he’d got one virtually pimping for him.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure I would,’ said Susie, as meaningfully as she could.

  ‘Yes, the evenings can be so long when you’re alone,’ sympathised Stephanie, ‘and that’s why the vicar’s sessions take place then... eight o’clock at the vicarage.’

  ‘What a good idea. It does get difficult thinking of ways to fill a lonely hour or two,’ agreed Susie, and that settled the matter. Within five minutes Stephanie had politely taken her leave, and five minutes after that, just enough time for her to get home and make a phone call, the telephone rang and there was the vicar.

  ‘Ah, Caroline, Steph’s been telling me about your little chat together. I’m so pleased you’re getting on, and I’m so pleased you’re interested in my seminars. Would you care to come along and try it out?’

  Just like that, she thought, now his tame woman had cleared the way and he could be pretty sure she was up for it. Cunning devil. But she merely said, ‘Yes, I do like the sound of them very much. I’m sure I’ll enjoy them.’ She didn’t linger too long on the word ‘enjoy’, but she knew the vicar had picked up the implication.

  ‘Yes, I think I can promise you that. So, how about tonight then? Strike while the iron’s hot, so to speak. Will I see you at eight o’clock?’

  ‘Eight o’clock? Fine.’ She tried to sound as bright as she could, but her week of relaxation was over and now she was back to work. With a nervous fluttering in her tummy and a sudden moistness in her knickers, she went upstairs to run a nice hot bath.

  After a lovely long soak she chose her underwear carefully, knowing it was going to be seen by other eyes than her own: whatever happened, she would have to undress at least partially in order to get the vicar to say and do enough to write the story. He would almost certainly be ogling her in a state of sexy semi-nakedness, and probably taking liberties with his hands as well, she thought, looking at a reflection that had nothing to do with Caroline and everything to do with Susie: black stockings and suspenders, with sheer black bra and high-cut knickers made from silk almost as transparent as her stockings. She looked ripe and ready for action.

  But, taking her cue from the way the other women dressed almost all the time, Susie decided she would look demure on the outside, even though it was evening and she could have dressed for the cocktail hour. In the bedroom mirror she looked perfect for the part, in a plain green button-through dress which had been the editor’s idea. ‘Buy yourself some clothes from that shop - you know, the one where women who don’t like to fuck buy their stuff from,’ he’d said tactlessly. She knew where he meant and she’d done it, blending in at once when she’d arrived in the village.

  Her black handbag was another suggestion from the editor; it wasn’t hers and hardly had room for her purse, since it contained a small but broadcast-quality video recorder which would run for two hours, recording from the tiny lens embedded invisibly in the buckle decoration.

  All she had to do now was get everything right, but that worried her. She was still new at the job and though she’d learned fast with Harry she’d never worked alone before, and with a new editor in control she was very much on probation. It was almost like starting at the newspaper for the first time again, and the prospect of making a mess of things and losing her job only added to her nerves and to the growing heat between her legs. But she’d been over this a hundred times already and she’d promised herself she wouldn’t let her body take control, dictating her actions. No matter what the state of her underwear later, she was going to get the story and the pictures - and get out of there.

  By the time she was ready to leave the house she was tingling with nervous anticipation, just like any young woman going on such an assignation. But this was far more important and far more frightening than if she really had been Caroline setting out to be unfaithful with the vicar. And as she neared the vicarage, Gothic and forbidding in the evening gloom behind a cluster of tall pines, the thrill of expectation was replaced by the cold clutch of fear in her stomach. As she stopped at the gate and flicked the machine to ‘record’, fear became the predominant emotion and for the first time she wished she wasn’t alone. But she’d got the mobile tucked away in her bag and she could call for help if she needed to - and how much trouble could a country vicar be?

  She rang the bell and the front door creaked open on weary hinges.

  ‘Ah, my dear Caroline.’ The vicar smiled and she felt less frightened. He was so nice and upstanding, and it was hard to believe he was anything but a sweet and fatherly clergyman. No wonder he’d been getting away with it all for so long. ‘Please, do come in.’ He held the door wide and ushered her with his free arm, his hand touching the small of her back for a little longer than was necessary as she stepped into the hallway.

  Once inside she took off her coat and followed him into the lounge. She’d been there before, of course, but it looked a little different at night.

  As she sat in the big chair by the fireplace, carefully placing her handbag on the small side-table to give the hidden lens a good view of the room, she looked around. The furniture had been moved and the room seemed more spacious, with fewer chairs around the big oak table where the various parish committees sat. And while she wondered why there was no chair at the end nearest her, the chair she’d sat on only that morning, the vicar was talking, wasting no time.

 
; ‘Now, Caroline, these self-improvement evenings are all about individuals. Later on you can join Stephanie and Debbie and one or two of the others in group evenings, but tonight is all about you. It’s your input that drives us along and we can go as fast or as slow as you want. Nothing that happens tonight or any other night can happen unless you want it to, so we need to concentrate on your needs. Okay?’

  ‘Yes, vicar,’ she agreed, thinking how clever that was, making her feel at ease and in charge but telling her quite clearly that something most definitely was about to happen.

  ‘Call me Andrew on these occasions, Caroline.’ He smiled benignly.

  ‘Okay... Andrew.’

  ‘Good girl. Now, Caroline, I want you to sit back and relax, make yourself comfortable, because I want you to listen very carefully to me. Are you comfortable now?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, because she was, soothed by the sound of his rich warm voice, and comforted by his homely appearance.

  ‘Now listen to me, Caroline, because God wants you to be fulfilled in every way. He wants you to be the best you can be at everything, every part of your life. And to do that he needs you to start by realising that you’ve failed up till now. That doesn’t make you bad, because almost everyone else has done the same. But now you must accept your failure before you can go forward. Do you understand me?’

  ‘Yes, I think I do,’ she said, wondering what he was wittering on about.

  ‘That’s good, my dear. Now, say after me: I have failed and I must repent.’

  She did, and they repeated it several times, Susie feeling stupid at first, but less nervous, since it seemed he might just be a religious freak with a bee in his bonnet. So when he stood in front of her and placed his palms flat on either side of her head she wasn’t unnerved, but simply conscious of his nearness, and of his maleness - she could hardly be otherwise, since she was looking directly at his grey-flannel groin, his plain trousers held up by a thin black belt fastened with a brass buckle shaped like a snake. A very phallic snake...

  Luckily it was easy to change the course of her thoughts because the vicar was speaking again. ‘Say after me, “I accept God’s punishment for my sins whatever it may be,”‘ he intoned, and she heard herself repeating it and realising that maybe she should be nervous after all.

  ‘In return for your penance God offers you all the unlimited pleasure and joy of paradise,’ he went on. ‘Say after me, “I want paradise and I accept my penance.”‘

  The pressure of his hands on her head was gentle and insistent, like the softness of his voice, and she found herself repeating his words, even though her voice sounded disembodied and unnatural.

  The pressure of his hands changed, exerting a gentle upward pull that brought her easily to her feet so she was standing close in front of him, their bodies almost touching, his hands holding her head, so like the classic posture for the first kiss that she licked her lips in readiness.

  ‘Say after me, “I want paradise and I accept my penance.”‘ His voice was low but insistent. She repeated it, still looking into his face. ‘And again - say it.’ And she did. ‘Undo your top button and say it again.’ Already conditioned to obey quickly and without question, her hands were at her throat as her voice echoed the words, and instead of stopping when she realised what she was doing, she undid the button, trying to suppress the thrill of arousal that loosening her clothes in front of a near stranger was bound to produce, no matter what the circumstances.

  ‘And now the next button, and say it again,’ he commanded.

  ‘I want paradise and I accept my penance,’ she said, and undid the second button.

  ‘And the next.’

  As she spoke she pulled the third button a bit too harshly, exposing her bra and the firm swell of flesh inside, wondering if he could see the hardening nipples as they poked against the black silk. Still repeating the phrase after him, she undid the fourth, then the fifth button, so her dress was open to the waist, and she felt her body opening in arousal as her juices seeped into the silky panties that were so nearly visible.

  ‘Say it with me and undo a button each time,’ he ordered, and together they chanted the phrase five more times. Each time another button popped open and her fingers moved down for the next while the vicar continued to hold her head between his palms, looking deep into her eyes, never once glancing down, not even when the last button was undone and her dress fell open, revealing her slim-waisted figure, see-through knickers, suspenders and black stockings.

  ‘I knew you were ready for paradise,’ he breathed. ‘I believed God would make you ready, and faith is everything. Have faith and paradise will be yours. Say after me, “Faith is everything, penance is perfect and paradise will be mine.”‘

  She repeated the words, wondering if he could tell how aroused she was, standing there obediently undressing for him.

  ‘Again,’ he ordered, and she obeyed.

  ‘Once more, and this time give me your dress.’ He made it sound so natural and normal, and she pulled the dress off her shoulders, holding it out to him.

  He waited until she’d finished the litany before he took it, still not looking at her body, clad like a model in a girlie magazine, and feeling like one, too; nipples hard as bullets in the black silk, liquid fire in her knickers and butterflies in her stomach.

  ‘Faith is everything,’ he said. ‘Now you, say it.’

  She repeated the words back to him, willing him to look down and notice her body. How dare he not be affected by her when she had bared almost everything on his command.

  ‘Penance is perfect,’ he intoned, and he inclined his head so she said it aloud.

  ‘Paradise will be mine,’ he breathed, and she said that, too.

  ‘Faith is everything, Caroline, say that aloud and undo your brassiere.’

  His use of the old-fashioned word made it sound proper, like a doctor, and she reached behind automatically, unclasping her bra as she spoke the words.

  ‘Penance is perfect,’ he said, while her hands were still busy. ‘Say that aloud and take it off.’

  ‘Penance is perfect,’ she said, pulling it from her shoulders.

  ‘And as you place it on the chair, say, “paradise will be mine.”‘

  She did as she was told, extending one arm and dropping it from her fingers, conscious of a hardness in her nipples and wondering why he didn’t look down at her breasts, firm and cherry-tipped, thrusting towards him, almost touching the clerical black cloth that covered his chest.

  ‘You already have faith, Caroline, and soon you will have paradise, too. But first there must be penance. Say after me, “There must be penance.”‘

  She already had enough on film to get him defrocked, and maybe enough to send him to prison. But as she stood there with her nipples erect and the heat rising in her panties, she decided it might be best to continue just a little longer, just to make sure, until he actually touched her. And as the thought formed in her mind she felt a surge of excitement, a physical sensation almost as if his hand had brushed between her legs.

  ‘There must be penance,’ she said, and she saw something glinting in his eyes as he heard the words, and knew it was going to happen now.

  ‘There must be penance,’ he said. ‘Join with me, there must be penance...’ They said it together as he released her head, still holding her eyes with his, and lowered his hands to her shoulders.

  Now, she thought, he was going to do it. Her nipples stiffened even more in expectation of his touch, and it felt as if someone had poured a jar of warm honey into her panties, but he simply turned her sideways, steadily repeating the phrase, ‘There must be penance.’ As the hypnotic effect of repetition gripped her, she let herself respond to the pressure of his hands, taking one, two steps forward, letting him place her hands flat on top of the big oak table, sliding forward until her nipple
s touched the wood. Then her breasts pressed against the tabletop and she could see a smudgy reflection of her face in the polished wood as she continued to repeat his phrase with him. His hands left her and his voice receded, and he left her there, bending across the table, feeling the cool wood pressed against her breasts and the edge of it digging into the tops of her thighs.

  There was silence, broken only by some soft shuffling sounds, and then he was close behind her, his hand resting lightly on her flank.

  ‘Caroline,’ he commanded, and she was silent as he continued, ‘do you believe that faith is everything?’

  ‘Um... yes,’ she said quietly. ‘I think so.’

  ‘Good girl. Then say after me, “I believe faith is everything.”‘

  As she responded a hand slid down the outside of her thigh and dipped between her legs midway between knee and groin, electric thrills darting up and out from his fingertips. ‘Say penance is perfect,’ he continued, and as she spoke his hand pressed firmly, pushing her legs apart. She thought that from where he was, crouching behind her, he’d be looking between the roundness of her bottom cheeks to where the thin strand of her panties opened into a sheer diamond of see-through black silk. Underneath, clearly visible, her pretty little pussy pouted at him, the soft lips open to uncover the inner secrets, sparkling with the oily sheen of arousal.

  The long pause told her he was staring, and she wished her body wasn’t so traitorous, doing one thing when her mind required another; there was no point in trying to control it, though, because it had always possessed a mind of its own.

  But now the vicar was moving and she heard the rustling clink as he undid his belt. She felt the tension in her muscles as she waited for his probing fingers to come squirming into her panties, and her body opened the way for the erection he was even now releasing from his trousers.

  ‘And say, “Paradise will be mine,”‘ he ordered. As he stepped away there was the briefest touch as his fingers whisked across the black material that was stretched between her parted thighs, and she knew he’d felt her wetness, knew her body had betrayed her, making him think she was enjoying it.