Chapter 21

by Sebastian X

The invitation to the new bishop's inaugural garden party had been endorsed, "Be there, Sebastian, or else... " in red ink.

I had phoned the bishop's palace to confirm that there had been no mistake and was told that, "someone in authority had gone to considerable pains to acquire your address." So I accepted but I had no success when I tried to find out who had issued the invitation with its veiled threat.

After our reunion, Phoebe Howard was pleased to meet my two live-in lovers. She was not at all put out by their presence in our bed on that night. She had punished Rebecca for the trouble that possessive little lesbian's jealousy had caused and was at peace with the world. My old English mistress stayed for a few days before re-embarking on a promotional tour for her publisher. As she left she thanked me for my understanding attitude towards her inadvertent attachment to Rebecca and also for putting her on the road to fame and fortune as a writer. She said, due to the three of us, she had enough material for her new book. The yet-to-be-written block-buster was tentatively titled, I Was Pack Raped by Teenage Lesbian Sadists—a bit of an overstatement for what had been a fun, if exhausting, evening or two of group sex, I thought— but that's artistic licence for you.

I dressed conservatively for the garden party in a tan lightweight linen suit and my old school tie, last used to secure Phoebe Howard's wrists prior to encouraging her, with a riding crop, to fellate me. The coloured polyester rag brought back fond memories of my wicked youth. I sighed as I recalled that in a few days I would be eighteen and, although technically still a teenager, I would also be legally an adult and fully responsible for my actions.

Not sure what one took to a garden party, I settled for a wallet full of cash and condoms and was therefore well prepared for most eventualities. As it turned out I needed neither.

The garden party was held in the cathedral close—a walled enclosure in the centre of the city given to the church a century or so ago and now worth squillions of dollars per square metre. The inner walls of the close were lined with rhododendrons and azaleas. The plants hid the rough brickwork and gave the impression, with the lawns around the building, that the ugly Victorian gothic cathedral sat in a remote, lush, green meadow surrounded by flowering shrubs and not slap bang in the middle of the CBD.

I was duly checked into the close by security staff and issued with a clip-on badge with "Sebastian" printed on it. I was offered a choice of orange juice or a wet fruit salad masquerading as a punch. I took the juice and looked around. I guessed that I should pay my respects to the new bishop. As I hovered nearby he was ambushed by a group of large women in floral hats. He smiled and nodded at me as I drifted past but it was clear he had no idea who Sebastian was, nor why he was present.

A string quartet playing was playing light classical music. The sun was shining. I wandered around the garden looking for whoever it was who had insisted I attend.

The Chief of Police was there. I recognised him from frequent photographs in the local newspaper and on TV. He was chatting to our own Mr White as though they were bosom buddies. The old boy raised his glass to me and smiled. I had once done him a favour and, to give credit where it is due, he had repaid me twice over. I wondered if he was the bigwig who had insisted on my presence but it seemed unlikely. He could see me anytime. I worked for him.

I bumped into newly promoted Lieutenant Judith in a pristine police dress-uniform. She was wearing the Police Medal on her shapely bosom, and an automatic pistol in a highly polished holster on her Sam Browne. Judith was escorting another old acquaintance and former "lover"—Joy. The Lieutenant scowled at me as I greeted the couple pleasantly. Joy was wearing a floppy hat very much like the one I had permitted her to retain (with her shoes and stockings) when I last obliged her to strip for me. It was unfortunate that, as we spoke, the band began to play selections from Mozart. For one moment I thought Joy was going to start gyrating her hips and begin to peel off her pretty floral dress. I grinned. She blushed. She was saved further embarrassment by two small children, a boy and a girl, who in pursuit of a persecuted cat, cannoned into the flustered Joy before tearing off into the shrubbery yelling, "Puddy, puddy, puddy!" Their mother, following in their wake, apologised to Joy and then turned to me.

"Sebastian!" she said. "This is a pleasant surprise." She smiled at Joy and the tall lesbian cop.

"My husband told me you lived in the city. May I take him?" she said.

The woman accepted Judith's scowl and Joy's nervous giggle for a "yes."

"Look, do help me stop those little horrors before they catch that poor animal and get scratched." And so saying she grabbed me by the hand and dragged me into the surrounding greenery. She was panting when we reached the wall, out of sight of the polite gathering. The attractive blonde woman backed against the bricks and spread her gloved hands either side of her hips. She looked the picture of threatened innocence. Her firm, generous, bosom heaved under the bodice of her pale yellow dress. Her eyes were big and round under the broad brim of her beribboned straw hat. She said, quietly enough so the noise of the garden-party would drown her plea, "Oh, God, Sebastian, please don't rape me."

It was Mary, the wife of the chaplain of the Juvenile Detention Center I had been assigned to after my first marathon rape of the red-headed Joy. The last time I had seen Mary she had been asleep, exhausted after a night of sexual excess. She had been sprawled naked next to her daughter, Sophia, who she had bound with thongs and straps and insisted I fuck instead of her. Mary had kissed my balls goodbye as I finished raping the young woman. She got a close-up of my cum spilling out of the teenager's cunt.

"Please, don't," she whispered as I lifted the hem the silky yellow skirt.

"Oh, no!" she panted as I caressed the smooth, and slightly moist, fine cotton covering her plump cunt lips. I pushed with my finger and rubbed the bud of her clitoris through the thin fabric.

"Not here. Not with everyone so close!" she sobbed without meaning a word of it. Only once in our long association in the JDC had Mary admitted I was her lover and that she relished every inch of my impressive cock. Pretending she was being ravished gave her an "out" if I had been caught fucking her. The fantasy also used to turn her on. Apparently, it still did.

I ripped the flimsy cotton knickers off her firm sweetly curved hips and unzipped my pants. I kissed her on the neck as my erection firmed in the fresh air. Mary reached for my growing cock with one hand and wrapped the other around my neck. She began to rub the head of my cock up and down the length of her pussy.

"On your knees. Bitch!" I growled, after a pleasant while. "Suck it!"

"Later," she panted as she slid onto my rigid dick.

"Oooh," she cried. "Oh, please spare me," then she jumped up and engorged my cock entirely as she wrapped her legs around my waist. I staggered forward a pace or two until her back fetched up against the wall, then, as she locked both hands behind my neck I tried to bang Mary through the brickwork until she came and came again.

I thought her cries of satisfaction would attract the attention of one or another of the punch drinkers but if anyone heard Mary's,"Oh my god don't! Stop! Don't! Stop! Don't stop, don't stop. Oh, Christ almighty! Sebastian," they probably, given the venue, mistook it for a prayer to the soldier saint.

There wasn't very much to clean up. I had cum deep inside the avid victim. Mary attended to me nicely and wiped herself dryish with the tattered remains of her pants. Then we went, hand in hand in search of the cat-hunters.

"Whose kids are they?" I asked as we emerged from the rhododendrons and began our hunt among groups of the new bishop's guests. I knew her husband was impotent and infertile so I was a bit surprised when Mary looked me straight in the eyes, grinned, and said, "Mine, of course, Sebastian."

"Ah," I said, surprised. "A.I.D?"

"I certainly had some help," she said. "There they are. Over by the drinks table. Oh dear!" Mary abandoned me and hurried over the vast expanse of lawn calling out to Sophy and Alexander that pussies do not drink orange juice or punch.

"Sebastian," said a quiet voice behind me. "It's time you and I had a little chat."

Standing behind me was Mary's husband, the former chaplain of the institution for young offenders I had spent a mere six months of a much longer sentence. He was dressed in an ankle-length black cassock with cloth-covered buttons and his long, thin, face and sparse brown hair looked no different from when I had last seen him over two years ago. He smiled with his mouth.

"I'm glad you accepted my invitation. I'm sure Mary did too. Please come with me. What I have to say won't take long." He turned and led the way into the grey bulk of the cathedral. I followed. I tried to let Mary see where we were going but she had her hands full.

I followed Mary's husband into the administrative building attached to the cathedral. He opened the door to the Dean's office, ushered me inside and shut the door. There were just the two of us and I guessed my old JDC padre was the new official I had read about in the local rag.

"Congratulations, er, Dean?" I said.

He smiled and motioned me to sit in a chair facing an imposing, highly polished, wooden desk. "Thank you, Sebastian," he said. " But I couldn't have done it without you."

I looked puzzled. I was puzzled.

"Let me explain. You know as well as I do what liberties I permitted you to take with my wife while you were in detention. And why. You knew I was a hopeless voyeur. You showed that you knew when you deliberately entertained Mary in the bedroom. The room where Smee had rigged one of his clever little cameras so I could observe her pleasuring herself."

I nodded. It was true.

"I enjoyed your fun and games and, quite honestly, envied you your youth and vigour. Too much envy is bad for one's soul. That is why I arranged for your early release. On your last night of imprisonment, however, you outdid all previous performances. Not only did you impale my wife and step-daughter in what, even for you, Sebastian, must have been a marathon performance, but you cleverly contrived to implicate Mary in your ruthless plundering of Sophia's innocence. Had I known what was on that last tape before you departed I would have insisted you served out your full term."

"Yes," I interrupted. "But remember, we had been drinking and..."

"Not as punishment, Sebastian. I wanted to see more! Looking at the three of you on my wife's bed..." he sighed. "As it was, your departure saved me from myself," said the Dean, sadly. There was a pause as the pensive clergyman gathered his thoughts.

"Do you know, Smee attempted to blackmail me?" he added.

I shook my head, appalled. I had suggested Smee get a tape of the then chaplain when he abused himself, while he watched tapes of his wife as she writhed in ecstacy, as an insurance policy. Never did I think for a moment that mild-mannered Smee would try anything like blackmail.

"In exchange for all copies of all tapes and discs of my wife, daughter and yourself—I'm sure he didn't cheat me—I set him up in business. My money, his know-how. We are now both doing very well, financially. Talk about the 'wages of sin'." He gave a short laugh.

"You understand, Sebastian, I have all the tapes. Including the one showing you as you rape Sophia. It isn't clear from the tapes that Mary is fantasising. She was always careful to cry 'rape'. In the wrong hands the tapes, carefully edited, could put you behind bars for a long time. But we neither of us want that, do we?"

I shook my head slowly and wondered where this mad conversation was going.

"Does Mary know of your, er, viewing habits, Dean?" I asked.

"No," he said. "She remains in blissful ignorance. After your departure she reverted to solitary masturbation or indulged in a shameful, but infrequent, incestuous lesbian relationship with Sophia. Your menage a trois activity awoke Sophia's hitherto dormant libido. She is, I'm delighted to say, almost as randy a bitch as her mother. Recently, of course I have had no opportunity to observe them at their leisure. I plan to change that."

"Oh," I said.

"Have you met Sophy and Alexander? My children?" He fixed me with an icy glare.

"Not really," I began, wondering about the emphasis. "Look like nice kids. Twins are they? How old are they?"

"Not twins, Sebastian, although that is what everyone believes. Sophy is Alexander's niece, he, her uncle. They are nearly two."

I'm not very good at mental arithmetic but using the fingers on both hands I managed the sums.

"You mean... Mary... and Sophia... Oh. That night, my last night at the JDC, that was the only time with Sophia..."

I was at a total loss for words.

"When it became clear they were pregnant Mary spun me a story about them both being drugged and raped by a gang of young offenders—old inmates of the JDC bent on mischief. Sophia remembered only one. She could not describe his face and her description of the physical attributes she could remember were, to anyone who hadn't seen you in action, Sebastian, fantastical. Sophia also recalls that, on the night in question, she was frequently, er, entered from the rear. She said she believed her mother's gang-rape story. Mary said that they should have reported the crime but she felt the notoriety generated by reports of the incident—and the part she had been forced to play in the affair, although drugged—would affect my career. She offered to leave me, taking Sophia with her."

"I didn't know," I said.

"There was no need for you to know," said the Dean. "I pretended to believe Mary. By then abortion was out of the question. When their time was near we all took a long holiday in Thailand and returned with my twins. Sophia was glad to be quit of responsibility for little Sophy and Mary was happy to look after both babies. A year later, the position of Dean at this establishment became vacant. After the previous incumbent's activities it was not to be filled by a sexual deviant. So they chose me—the proud new father of two lively brats and possessor of a most attractive and talented wife."

"Who you like to watch being fucked," I said.

"A fact known only to you and my business partner. Smee will say nothing and, Sebastian, neither will you."

"You are warning me off?" I said intelligently.

"In part, Sebastian. You are to have nothing to do with the children."

"Fair enough," I mumbled and wondered why I felt that he had taken something of value from me rather than removing an onerous responsibility.

"Good," he said, "That being understood, Sebastian, I'm inviting you to assist Mary with the cathedral choir. They practice at least once a week and you will be able to help my wife sort out the music room afterwards. I know you will be discreet. You understand me?"