Chapter 3

The Reverend Rixton had long believed as a man of God, and therefore the very backbone of society, to be without sin. His little peccadilloes would, he was always certain, be forgiven by those on High, for a man devoted to the Lord would have a special place automatically.

Now, as he adjusted his camera and looked at the way Liza was binding the two younger naked females face to face with their pert, small breasts crushed together and arms tied tightly behind their backs, he felt that perhaps the Devil might equally be preparing a place for him in the eternal fires of damnation. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been aroused before at witnessing such tight tying of the female form, nor was it because for these sessions he no longer cared if his cock was exposed or not as his need to stroke himself as he watched the meticulous preparation of bondage overrode any false modesty, but more to do with submitting to the demands of Liza.

It had been shameful, if both disgustingly and yet excitingly so, to spill his seed on her buckled shoes and lick them clean. A small price to pay for the woman’s willingness to show her skills, he had told himself afterwards as he prayed he had not committed a sin that for whatever reason wasn’t in the bible. Or perhaps it was, and his greater sin was not finding it.

Either way the man began to wonder if the inclusion of Liza in his life had somehow made things worse for him in the eyes of the Almighty. Liza Sloanley had, every time she brought her sweet, pretty daughter Charlotte to pose bound and gagged in front of the camera, demanded that the Reverend lick her shoes, either with his semen on them or straight from the muddy lane outside the vicarage. Charlotte, the girl to be tied up for the photographs he was taking, watched and laughed at the man as he was down on his hands and knees, worshipping —- there was no other word for it —- her mother Liza’s shoes.

The Devil, Rixton worried, was watching and taking notes.

Of course, the benefit of having Liza here was obvious. The man could tolerate a little licking of mud or his own semen in return for watching the dominant mother bind her daughter and Alice. The two younger females would giggle and chuckle as they were tied, at least until the gags went in. Large, mouth-wrenching gags at that, somehow making the whores look even more alluring. The photographs he then took were pure works of art; perfectly bound and perfectly still models who made not a twitch as they stood or knelt or lay or hung, either together or apart. Nothing blurred by movement, for which the vicar was grateful. Today’s little tableau, he knew, would be an obvious example of restrained lesbian pleasures of which the Reverend seemed to have taken many, lately.

But now Liza had told the Reverend he must commit probably the greatest sin of all, one that would damn him forever. The two young females who were routinely and eagerly trussed up should be made one in the eyes of the Lord. Liza had made it plain as Rixton knelt at her feet and was licking a little stray splatter of his semen off the lady’s silk-stockinged ankle, that her bright, bubbly Charlotte and the slightly older, but fractionally more sober Alice, would be married in his church. “Not husband and wife, but wife and wife,” said Liza looking down at the man at her feet.

“More, you will invite the bishop to watch. Such a wedding deserves the best congregation, wouldn’t you say, wretch?”

Rixton looked up at the woman, a look of horror on his face. “Liza, I beg you, no! It goes against all the church’s teachings!”

“Really, worm?” The sneer on Liza’s face was all too clear. “And where pray does your God or your Saviour say such a thing? Show me the passage in your bible where it says no two women should not be joined together.”

“I can’t,” gasped the man, still on his knees.

“Then you can and you will do exactly as I say. You will from now on do everything I say. The Bishop will come here to visit, and you will show him your photographs. When he is aroused, as he will be, you will invite him to attend the wedding. If you will not do that I will take Charlotte away and Alice too; the two are quite besotted with each other in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You can’t take Alice! She is my property and I won’t allow it!”

Liza responded with a laugh. “Alice is a girl who is mine. I have bought the young lady, though as yet she is hardly that but will be educated to my standards. I paid ten shillings to purchase the girl from her mother. The woman was glad of the coins. But be warned, worm, if you say no to me in any of this you will live here alone and the parish will learn of your, shall we say, unusual tastes.”

“No, you wouldn’t!”

“Yes, I would. Believe me.” Liza bent down and smirked at the cringing man. “Do you understand what I am?”

“You ... you are a monster,” gasped the man.

“More than that. I am everything you are not. I am what some call a dominant. A domme, for short. I make decisions, I get what I want, I am far more powerful than you. Your predilection for photographing the naked female form, tied up and in discomfort, gave me an opportunity. I intend to take it. Once I learned of your perversions, and I am very good at finding out things, I ordered my older brother to approach you. He was happy to do it in return for, like you, masturbating over my feet.”

“Oh God,” moaned Rixton.

“Too late to ask there, I fancy.”

The Reverend swallowed. “What is your gain? What is in it for you?”

“This vicarage, for a start. You as my servant, a home for my lovely daughter and her attractive if so far somewhat illiterate wife.”

“But ... I only have two large bedrooms here.”

Liza grinned. “Two is enough for four of us. What you will do is ask the Bishop to marry you and I, immediately after Charlotte and Alice are wed by you. A splendid double wedding, I think. But, before those beady eyes of yours light up, you will not be permitted to ever have congress with me. Your small penis, worm, will never do anything more than occasionally spill its seed at my direction. You will sleep on the floor at the foot of the marital bed.”

“But you have your own home. Captain Cridgeham said so.”

“Alas, my brother told you an untruth, though in defence of his soul it was a lie at my request. There were old gambling debts I could not meet, so my home was sold. My husband by all accounts was not a good man when it came to the cards, neither imbued with either luck nor the sense to stop. When my brother told me of you and your desires, I set the wheels in motion to dominate you and take what I want. Oh, I admit, worm, that a vicar’s supposed wife in a place like this is much less than I hoped for in life, but one must take what opportunities one can. Given I will not be troubled by your little tail I should be happy enough.”

“But the photographs—-”

“They will stop.” Liza gave a little shrug. “We will burn most of them, save for one or two I shall keep as we say, a safeguard against any indiscretions by you. I think you should applaud me for my ingenuity, agreed?”

Rixton gulped. He had been pushed and cajoled and now threatened into a position he despised. He nodded and slowly got to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have released who was in charge.” He glanced at the two younger women tied face to face, who were now kissing enthusiastically, and then at Liza, looking triumphant, as well she might.

“One more picture, worm,” nodded the woman, “and then we begin my way of doing things around here.”