Once upon a time (that’s the way all fairy tales start, right?) there was this preacher who was called to preach. He opened a church in a strip mall and put a sign up inviting people to listen to him. The first Sunday only six people showed up and when he passed the collection plate there was less than a dollar in it, he decided to go door to door to ‘gather his flock’.

The next afternoon found him in a nice neighborhood. As he walked up to the door he noticed ‘The Altimaries’ written on the mailbox.

Now being a good WASP (White Anglo-Saxon Protestant) preacher he did not know the difference between a Spanish name and an Italian name. Wanting to appear politically correct he made a decision as he knocked on the door.

A little black haired boy about 11 years old answered the door. The kid was olive complexed so the preacher felt comfortable asking, “My son does ‘Hey Zeus’ live in this house?”

The boy looked at him and with total respect he answered, “No sir. He lives across the street.” Then the kid shut the door. The mother shouted from the kitchen, “Who was at the door?”

“Some man looking for Jesus Gomez.”

The next house had Joe Taylor on the mailbox. The preacher thought, “Now that’s a good Christian name. I should have better luck here.”

He knocked and the door was answered by a man smoking a cigarette.

“Sir, have you ever been saved?”

The man looked at him with hollow eyes and his hand started to shake as he answered, “Hell yes! If it weren’t for Bravo Company 1^st Battalion 9^th Marines those fucking gooks would have overrun us. They saved my ass.”

The man slammed the door and went back and sat in his chair. He lit another cigarette off the one he was smoking.

“Who was at the door son?”

“Just some guy wanting to talk about the war.”

The preacher decided to call it a day and started his drive home. In front of him was this old pick-up truck. It was weaving back and forth across the road. Not wanting to think badly of anyone he thought, “This poor man must be sick.”

About that time the brakes lights came on and the preacher almost rear ended the pick-up. Then it was on its way again.

“I better get passed this drunk before I have a wreck.”

When the truck veers sharply to the right the preacher sees his chance. He hits the gas and pulls out into the other lane. About that time the truck weaves sharply back almost side swiping the preacher’s car and forces him to swerve into the side ditch!

The preacher was getting out of his car and climbing back up the bank to the road when the drunk appeared with a beer in his hand.

“You all right preacher?”

“Yes thank you. The Lord was riding with me.”

The drunk replies, “You better let him ride with me before you kill him!” then staggered back towards his truck.

Now two of those three stories are true. I’ll leave it up to you to decide which. For now let’s get to the story about Brother Dave.

Chapter 1: --

Brother Dave---I’ve had a good thing going here with my church for the last eight years. It is just the last couple of months that things have taken a turn.

Let me explain. First there was that little bitch Sherry. I had big plans for her! I was going to sell her virgin pussy on the dark web. People there would pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for an American virgin. But she ran away. I later found out that she run off to Florida with a black motor-cycle gang. What a waste!

Then I had bought a virgin from a contact in Central America and re-sold her to a pervert in California. She arrived in a chastity belt and spent a couple of days with my wife Janice and me while we arranged her travel. Yes we both used her mouth before she left.

Just my luck! The car she was traveling in run off the road and both drivers were killed. Who knows what happened to the girl. There was no mention of her in the news and I was in no position to inquire. Know what I mean?

Now this!

Last week I sent one of the ‘elders’ in my church along with Sheriff Billings, one of my partners in my human trafficking business, to check on the condition of a girl I had sold to a pimp up in the Houston area.

I had a guaranteed buy back agreement with him but it was depending on a number of things. The most important being the physical condition of the girl.

Janice had warned me about selling her to him. He was known to use a whip when training his whores. Janice was right! Sheriff Billings and Chuck (the girl’s step-dad) had reported that both her back and butt were badly scarred. The good news was that she was well trained. She had accepted being double penetrated (ass and pussy at the same time) and DVP (two cocks in her pussy at the same time). Still with the scars her value is decreased. That fucks up my plans.

Now “Master Adams” will just have to pay the difference. That means the 15 year old red haired run-a-way will cost him what I lose when I sell Amy. By the way that red haired little slut is undergoing her training in my basement at this very moment. When I last looked in on them Janice that her tied to a wall and was using a vibrator on her. If I remember correctly Janice said the kid was having her fourth climax of the morning. I heard her scream that she would do anything if Janice would just stop. I imagine by now her tongue is deep in my wife’s ass!

The phone was ringing and I had to shut the door and answer it. The room is soundproof.

It was not good news. Sheriff Billings and Chuck were found dead after a gas explosion at the home of Mr. Adams, their fishing buddy. Yeah, fishing, right! There was no mention of Amy. Again I could not ask what happened to the whore. Know what I mean?

I just figured she was in that room Adams had in his sub-basement and when the house caved in she had not yet been discovered. More problems.

Amy’s mother, Carol, is calling. She is very upset after getting the news of her husband’s death. She wants me to bring Amy home from the clinic where she is supposedly being treated for a sex addiction. Okay that is fucked up.

I rush over to Carol’s and try to comfort her. I understand why Chuck says she is fun in bed. She is still in her pajamas and those big tits of hers are clearly visible. Maybe I can work this out to my advantage. The only problem is she is 45 years old! That’s too old for any of my customers. But I have another idea.

I take her home with me for a few days. Janice and I handle all the funeral arrangements and I give what I think is one of my best eulogies at the double funeral we held at the church. I told the congregation that Carol would be spending a few days with us until she could get over her grief.

Janice and I started on her that very night! No use wasting time.

She kept asking about her daughter, Amy. After a glass of orange juice dosed with a strong sedative we led her to her new room. The room next to the red headed kid in the basement! Now let the games begin!

Chapter 2: --Carol

I think that honesty is best in this situation. So I tell Carol, who by the way is tied spread-eagle and naked to a wall, the brutal truth about what happened to her only daughter Amy. She screamed as I told her that I had sold Amy to a pimp up around Houston. He had trained her using a whip and cattle prod to break her. I showed her the pictures that her husband Chuck had sent me the night before his death. She cried as she looked at the photos of her little girl’s scars from the beatings. But when she saw Billings and Chuck double teaming Amy, along with close ups of her swallowing that black horse cock of Billings, she screamed! I put the photos aside and told her I would tack them to the wall in her bedroom for her to study later. Right now I had other things on my mind.

I let Janice play with her first.

Janice loves to torture another woman’s tits. First she tied a rope around the base of each tit. That forced the blood into the nipples and slowly but surely the skin started to discolor. It was a pretty purple when Janice attached the nipple clips. Carol screamed until she was hoarse! I love hearing a woman in distress!

When the ropes were released the screams got even louder and Carol passed out. The cattle prod set on the lowest setting brought her back to life.

“Chuck told me you never let him fuck you in the ass is that true?”

She did not answer just looked at me with hate filled eyes.

“Maybe your throat is too dry to speak. Janice get us a couple of bottles of water from the frig.”

Janice brings two bottles, one she hands to me the other she opens and takes a big gulp. I un-screw the top of my bottle and take a drink.

“Oh, I’m sorry how rude of me. Carol would you like a drink?”

She only nods her head yes. I pour the water over her forehead. It trickles down over her face and she tries to lap some with her tongue. The cold water makes it down her chest and over those sore breasts.

“Answer me slut if you want a drink,” I demand.

“No I never let him.” She says.

“Let him what,” screams Janice.

“I never let him or anyone else fuck me in the ass.””See that was not so hard
was it? Janice get Carol a bottle of water and help her.” My wife goes to the frig and gets another bottle. But this one is different. It has been dosed with scopolamine.