Chapter 3

Now that the Church of Divine Intervention had their official status as a Non-profit Religious entity confirmed, They began to unofficially incorporate the Hatfield sister’s moonshine operation into their regular distribution network and more often than not when they gave out the bibles there was a couple of bottles of home-grown hooch in the box as well.

The Hatfield sisters began to dress all in white to give a spot of color to their Sunday services and they started to accept a few of the more adventurous single females in the valley into their midst to bolster their available pussy numbers to meet all needs on Saturday night.

Dixie Cartwright accepted all of these changes because she was getting her steady humping from Deacon Johnson down on all fours and obedient to his every whim of a sexual nature.

There was no contract between them but she was ready to admit that it was the Deacon that ran the show and she was only one of the pussies on parade when there was work to be done in the field to add to their collection of souls that had been “saved” and were ready to work for the good of the church in spreading the word. Their moonshine operation was working overtime to keep up with the demand and the donations for a one hour special visitation with one of the Hatfield Girls far exceeded Dixie’s most optimistic expectations for gross income for the current year. In fact, they were doing so well financially that they started the building of a new church up on Sentinel Mountain to celebrate the spreading of the word and the saving of many souls for the Lord than the region had seen even back before the War for Southern Independence.

With the taxman off their backs, they were able to spread their wings, spread the teachings of the Lord and reward the faithful with perks of cheap booze and reasonably priced female companionship right here on Earth. They were happy in the knowledge that their money was being used for good deeds in the community and that all of the members of the church were filled with divine grace and a devoted faith that inspired them to work hard in the fields of the Lord for final redemption for all of their many sins.

The construction of the place of worship on Sentinel Mountain was in full swing that summer.

The Hatfield girls were on the site providing food, drink and a little bit of extra incentive to the men laboring all through the light of day to erect the symbol of their congregation’s desire to serve the Lord. In addition to the original related females that numbered ten, they had recruited fourteen young attractive women with a spirit of the Lord in their souls and the fire of love-driven lust in their loins. These two dozen women formed the core of the visitation business that had expanded into the nearby towns and the medium sized city that was not too distant on the flatlands. The revenue from their dedicated services bolstered the church’s ability to tend to the less fortunate flock and annoyed the evil-minded criminal elements with political roots.

One of the girls that were a recent conversion was the widow Jefferson with her sorrow hidden deep inside where only the Lord could see her despair. The widow Jefferson was the protégé of Deacon Johnson and she would often pray with him at night to help them both push away the stresses of the moment for the excitement of physical love-making that inspired them both in the ways of the Lord.

He had prevailed on her the importance of raising money for the construction and she had gone down to the city to implement her personal fund-raising by doing as many visitations as possible to secure added revenue for the church.

The mean-spirited minions of the politically connected criminal band that ran the drug related call-girl racket in the flatlands had entrapped poor widow Jefferson and she was caught naked as a jaybird in the middle of her visitation relaxing a city commissioner at the Southern Charm Motel out on the interstate where law enforcement was noticeably absent most of the time.

The laughing cops trussed up the naked widow and forced her to go with them to their headquarters in the county jailhouse to be interrogated about her point of origin and why she thought she could cheat them out of their geographically protected income from the illegal call-girl racket.

They placed her in a cell in full view of almost the entire entourage of the law enforcement unit and stretched her across the confiscated pool table with its green field of felt underneath. Her beautiful ass flanks were seen quivering with the humiliation of the moment and she knew that her punishment would be obscene and swift.