Depravicus

by Ray Gordon

  "I've never heard such rubbish."

  "It's true, sad but true. He came here to borrow my red silk panties and my frilly suspender belt."

  "I'm not listening to another word of your lies."

  "There was one thing I found odd."

  "The only thing odd around here is you."

  "He rang the convent from here and told Sister Crotchly to go to the laundry room and get more stock."

  "More stock?"

  "I would imagine that they have some sort of business venture going. I wasn't in the room when he made the call. But I overheard him saying something about fresh supplies of stock now that a new term had started at the convent. He also said something about the old cow being out of the way for a while."

  "What's all that laughter?" she asked, looking at the dining room door.

  "I have an illegal bar in there. Half the villagers are in the bar getting wrecked on stolen booze."

  "Rubbish," she hissed, walking to the front door. "There's no way you'd open a bar in your own house. That's something you'd never get away with. I'm going back to the convent to find the Bishop."

  "Give him my unkind regards," Will said as she walked down the path. "And tell him not to soil my undies."

  That was close, Will reflected as the phone rang. Wandering into the kitchen, he was about to grab the receiver but hesitated. If it was Josie... She'd not ring again yet, he was sure. What with her assignment, she'd be kept pretty busy. There again, she might have decided to check up on Will. Perhaps it was best not to answer it, he mused, a cocktail of sperm and girl-juice running down his naked thighs. Scratching his crotch through his cassock, he finally lifted the receiver. There was no point in putting off the inevitable.

  "Is that Entercock?" a rough male voice asked.

  "This is Sir William Entercock speaking."

  "My wife's pregnant."

  "Really? Congratulations."

  "Congratulations? Is that all you have to say?"

  "I take it that the pregnancy wasn't planned."

  "No, I did not plan for you to fuck my wife."

  "Me?" Will gasped. "Who is this? With whom am I conversing?"

  "Bill Whithers."

  "Ah, yes. Mr Whithers. Now, what's all this nonsense about?"

  "My wife told me you seduced her while I was doing shift work at the flowerpot factory several months ago."

  "But it was your daughter... I mean, I really have no idea what you're talking about."

  "My daughter's pregnant, too. I'm coming round to see you."

  "What, now?"

  "Yes, I need a blood sample for the DNA test."

  "You can't take my blood."

  "Can't I? We'll see about that."

  As the man hung up Will recalled the night in question. He'd called at the Whithers' house to borrow a cup of sugar. At least, that had been his excuse. Knowing old man Whithers was working the nightshift he'd decided to try his luck with the delectable daughter of the family. The horny little slag had readily dropped her knickers and allowed him to fuck her shaved pussy. The problem was that the girl's mother had discovered the pair and demanded her share of Will's cock. Fuck, he thought as the phone rang again.

  "Will, it's Josie," the girl said as he pressed the receiver to his ear.

  "Ah, Josie. How are things in Moscow?"

  "What I want to know is, how are things in Cumsdale?"

  "Er... Fine."

  "I hear you've bought a lot of drink."

  "Drink? Me, buy a lot of drink?"

  "According to... No, I'm not going to tell you who I phoned. I'm coming back, Will."

  "When?"

  "I'll get the next flight."

  "There's no need to do that, sweetness."

  "There's every need. What's happened to my dining room?"

  "It's still there, as far as I know. Unless it's been stolen, which I very much doubt."

  "I'll get the next flight."

  "Er... Hello, hello."

  Replacing the receiver, Will grabbed a can of lager from the fridge. This was all he needed, he reflected. The dining room gone, the antiques gone up in smoke, Lana working in the bar, Lolita tethered to the bed, a mother and daughter pregnant, DNA tests, the Reverend Mother, the Bishop... There was only one thing for it, he concluded, swigging from the can. Get blind drunk, fuck Lolita and Lana, get wrecked on vodka, fuck Lolita and Lana, get totally pissed, fuck...

  Chapter Six

  Waking at seven the following morning in the spare bedroom, Will recalled the events of the previous evening. The bar had cleared by midnight. Lana had gone home but Lolita was still tethered to the bed. Will would have released her, but she'd threatened to go running to the Mother Slutter with her tales of drunkenness and seduction. Expecting Josie to come marching through the front door at any time, Will didn't know what to do. To make matters worse, he was also expecting Bill Whithers to come for his blood.

  "Best to start the day right," he murmured, leaping out of bed and looking down at his rampant erection. Walking into the main bedroom he eyed Lolita's naked body, the lips of her hairless pussy. Sleeping soundly, she didn't stir as he perched his buttocks on the edge of the bed. He leaned over and planted a kiss on the warm hillock of her smooth mons. She was beautiful. But she was also very dangerous. He couldn't keep her prisoner forever, he knew as he tentatively licked the moist valley of her pussy. With the prospect of Josie coming home it was best to release the girl and take the consequences.

  Just a quick fuck, he mused, climbing onto the bed with his erect penis waving from side to side. Gently stabbing at her vaginal divide, he pushed his swollen knob between the wings of her inner lips. His glans slipping into her duct of desire, absorbing her inner heat, he tentatively drove his shaft deep into her hot pussy. She stirred as he withdrew and drove into her again. Moaning softly, her head lolling to one side, she raised her hips as he fucked her slowly and gently. The soft squelching sounds of vaginal juice filling his ears, he stifled his gasps every time he propelled his bulbous glans along the tightening tube of her vagina. Praying for her to sleep throughout the gentle fucking he quickened his pistoning.

  "God," he breathed, his naked body shuddering as his sperm jetted from his throbbing knob and flooded her contracting vagina. The squelching sounds of sex growing louder, his swinging balls battering her pert buttocks, he fucked her until his flow of sperm ceased and he shuddered his last orgasmic shudder. That really was the best way to start the day, he reflected, slipping his penis out of her. Leaving the bed, he glided across the room to the door and was about to go downstairs to make tea when the girl spoke.

  "Fucking hell," she breathed, raising her head and staring at Will.

  "Most people prefer to say good morning, but not to worry," he grinned.

  "You'd better fucking let me go or..."

  "Or what? It seems to me that you're in no position to make threats, young lady."

  "You can't keep me here forever."

  "I wouldn't want to keep you here forever."

  "Let me go, you... you fucking..."

  "Bastard?"

  "You fucking cunt."

  "I've just fucked your cunt, so you must be the fucking cunt. Or, the fucked cunt. OK, I'll give you your freedom."

  Moving to the bed he released the handcuffs and helped the girl to her feet. Swaying on her sagging legs, she grabbed her habit and pulled the garment over her head. Will chuckled as she scratched her shaved pussy through the black material. His cock glistening with sperm and cunny juice, he waited until she'd donned her wimple before leading her downstairs. She remained silent as he opened the front door, which he found rather strange. Perhaps she was planning her revenge, he reflected, watching her strut down the front path to the lane.

  In the kitchen he filled the kettle and made a cup of strong tea. Wondering what the day would bring, he opened the back door and stepped out into the garden. The sun shining, the birds singing, the day was going to be hot, if nothing else. A few lies were in order,
he decided, gazing at the burned out fire in the middle of what once was a beautiful lawn. Burglars raided the house and stripped the dining room. He'd never met Mrs Whithers and her daughter, let alone fucked them both senseless. The bar... The bar was to bring in some money. Seeing as the dining room was empty, he thought it a good idea to put it to good use.

  "It's no good," he sighed despondently. He knew Josie of old. She'd not believe one word of his lies. More to the point, she knew him of old. He wasn't too bothered about Bill Whithers. If the rumours were true, then the man's wife and daughter had been screwed by just about every man in the village. Returning to the kitchen, he sipped his tea and wondered who Josie had spoken to. Who'd told her about the booze and the dining room? Some two-faced bastard, he mused, deciding to lay a trap as the phone rang.

  "Mr Entercock?" a woman asked.

  "Yes," Will replied, realizing that it was the anonymous caller, Mrs Smythe-Cummings.

  "I'm ringing again to tell you about those girls. They hang around in the woods behind the village hall."

  "Do they?"

  "Indeed, they do. They're up to no good, Mr Entercock. You have to save them from their wicked ways."

  "I did try the other day but..."

  "They do things with each other."

  "Really?"

  "They... I can't bring myself to tell you. They're usually behind the village hall at ten o'clock. I think you should go there and take them in hand."

  "Oh, I will."

  "I can't reveal my identity for reasons unknown to me."

  "I understand, Mrs Smythe-Cummings."

  "I thought you would."

  "I'll be there at ten."

  "Thank you, Mr Entercock. You've put my mind at rest."

  Silly old bat, Will thought, replacing the receiver. She had too much money for her own good. Permanently bored, she always poked her nose in, trying to cause trouble wherever she could. She'd obviously joined the Reverend Slagger in her quest to destroy him. They failed last time, he reflected. And they'd fail again. Will reckoned that he could turn the situation round, use the obvious trap to his advantage. If he were to somehow implicate the Bishop in the scam... Coming up with a plan, he dashed upstairs and donned his cassock. Before leaving the house, he grabbed a ball of string.

  Avoiding the lane, Will climbed over his garden fence and took the path through the woods to the back of the village hall. All was quiet as he crouched behind a clump of bushes and checked his watch. With an hour to go, he began his preparations. Tying one end of the string to a bush, he unravelled the ball as he walked into the undergrowth. Jumping across a small stream, he cut the string and secured the end to a small tree. So far so good, he mused, leaping back across the stream and trying a length of string about six inches from the ground between two bushes.

  Back in the bushes behind the village hall, he grinned as the Bishop finally appeared with the girl-sluts. Wearing red microskirts and tight T-shirts, the girls listened to the Bishop as he told them of the plan. They were obviously knickerless, he mused, watching as they perched their petite buttocks on the trunk of a fallen tree. Leaving the clearing, Will slipped into the undergrowth and tugged hard on the string. The bush rustling by the clearing, he tugged on the string again. Finally, the Bishop went to investigate and began following the string into the woods.

  Will didn't have to wait long before the old git tripped over the trap and splashed into the stream. The girls dashing into the undergrowth to discover the fate of the Bishop, Will kept his distance as he followed. He had to stifle a laugh as he watched the girls pulling the old man out of the stream. Curiosity killed the cat, he mused, watching from the bushes as the Bishop hauled his soaking wet cassock over his head and stood in his vest and shorts.

  "Now what do we do?" the blonde asked, hanging his cassock over the branch of a tree.

  "Entercock's behind this," the angry man hissed.

  "It was probably kids," the dark girl said, reclining on the grass by the stream. "Entercock knows nothing about our plan. If we go back, we'll probably find him waiting for us."

  "Yes, but I won't be there to catch him," the Bishop complained. "This'll be the second time we've failed."

  "Why don't I go back and lure him into the woods?" the blonde suggested. "You get yourself sorted out and then come and find us. I'll accuse him of..."

  "All right," the Bishop said. "But don't go too far into the woods. The Reverend Mother should be along with her camera soon." Checking his watch, he grinned. "Entercock won't be behind the village hall for another ten minutes. When he arrives, lead him into the woods and do a bird call or something when you're... Well, you know."

  "Naked?"

  "Yes."

  Returning to the clearing behind the hall, Will sat on the fallen tree and waited for the girl. This was all too easy, he reflected, his cock coming to life as he imagined shagging the little tart-slut's tight bottom-hole. Let there be rampant sex, he thought, rubbing his hands together gleefully as he heard twigs cracking under foot.

  "Good morning," he smiled as the girl emerged from the bushes.

  "Oh, good morning," she replied. "I'm sorry about the other day. We weren't really going to tell the Reverend Mother and the Bishop about..."

  "Worry not, my child. I forgive you, for you know not what you're about to receive."

  "What?"

  "Shall we take a walk through the trees?"

  "Yes, I was about to suggest that. Let's go this way. There's a stream and..."

  "And poisonous snakes," Will breathed, grabbing her arm.

  "Snakes?" she echoed, her blue eyes frowning.

  "Oh, yes. There are plenty of big snakes in that area. We'll go this way to the stream," he said, leading her into the undergrowth. "It's the long way round, but it's safer."

  As they made their way deeper into the woods, and further away from the stream, Will decided to take the girl to an old shack by a disused railway track. He'd taken many a girl to the shack when he'd first arrived in Cumsdale. But that was many years ago and he wasn't sure that the place would still be standing. Standing or not, he was in for a morning of rampant sex, he knew as he led the girl down the embankment. He'd begin by licking the wet valley of her shaved pussy, he decided. And then lick and tongue her brown bottom-hole and then give her a good mouth-shagging followed by a rampant vaginal tonguing and...

  "This isn't the way to the stream," she said as he dashed across the grass to the shack and opened the door.

  "It's just across the line," he said, entering the shack. "I just thought I'd have a look in here. I used to play here when I was a kid."

  "It's eerie," she murmured, following him through the door.

  "Nothing's changed," he grinned, closing and bolting the door. "There's the mattress I used to play on. And I used that rope hanging on the wall to... um..." he thought of all the lovely bondage games he'd played, "to climb trees."

  "Why have you locked the door?" she asked, leaning against an old table.

  "To keep the snakes out. Oh," he gasped, staring at her feet. "Don't move."

  "Why not?"

  "Don't even breathe." Grabbing the rope, he knelt before the girl and tied each ankle to the far legs of the bench.

  "What are you doing?" she asked, looking down at her tethered feet.

  "It was a snake."

  "Where?" she gasped, holding her hand to her pretty mouth.

  "It's OK, it's gone now."

  "Why have you tied my feet?"

  "In case you moved and the snake got you. Actually, I lied. The only snake in here is the one beneath my cassock, and you're going to suck it."

  "You bastard," she hissed as he grabbed her wrists and bound then together with rope.

  "That's me," he sniggered, lifting her arms and securing the end of the rope to a hook screwed into the roof of the shack.

  "I'll scream."

  "Scream as much as you like. We're miles from anywhere so no one will hear you."

  Tearing the
front of her skirt in half as she rambled on about the Bishop saving her from her terrible fate, he tossed the garment to the floor and ripped her panties from her curvaceous body. Gazing at the swell of her hairless vaginal lips he grabbed the front of her T-shirt and tore the flimsy material in two. This was just like the good old days, he reflected, pulling his cassock over his head and rubbing the purple crown of his penis up and down her opening sex valley.

  "You tricked me," she hissed as he sucked each ripe nipple into his mouth. "You tricked me."

  "But of course," he grinned. "I'm the infamous Will Entercock and I have a reputation to keep up. I didn't get where I am today by leaving girls alone. Besides, you tricked me."

  "I didn't mean to," she whimpered as he took a leather belt from a hook on the wall.

  "You didn't mean to?" he chuckled.

  "They made me."

  "Tell me everything," he said sternly, running the leather belt through his hand.

  "Well, I..."

  "Everything. Unless, of course, you want the strap across your pert little titties. First of all, who are you?"

  "My name's Levan."

  "Ah, that was my mother's name," Will sighed. "My father was a navel officer. But enough of the navy. Tell me all you know about the slagger's plans to deflower, defile, defrock, degrade, despoil, destruct and defame me."

  "It's not so much the Reverend Mother. It's the Bishop."

  "I thought as much. Go on."

  "Actually, it's not so much the Bishop. It's Esra."

  "Esra?"

  "My friend, the dark girl."

  "I thought as much. Go on."

  "Actually, it's not so much..."

  "Who the fuck is the perpetrator of this devious plan?" Will snapped impatiently.

  "Esra's father. He's a Russian spy."

  "The plot thickens," Will murmured pensively. "As will your fanny juice in a minute. But, why would a Russian spy want me out of the way?"

  "I don't know."

  "I'll lash your pert titties with the belt."

  "You'll lash my pert titties anyway."

  "That's true. OK, unless you tell me..."

  "All right, all right. I think it's because Esra's father wants to become priest of Cumsdale church."