Chapter 6: Wednesday- Friday

The pep pills Pip and Byron had brought back from their weekend in the city gave Jeremy a head-ache and a stiff erection that took an hour to subside. This meant the youths expected him to take a more active role in the nightly serial rape of his wife—an activity he found he was beginning accept as normal and, at times, enjoy.

In their trip to the city on Saturday evening Pip and Byron had called on Teddy and his mother—Cheryl— who still taught mathematics at a nearby high-school. They brought a bottle of Mumm's champagne, a fistful of what Byron euphemistically called pep-pills, and a packet of photographs. The pictures showed Jeremy and Mary seeming to enjoy robust sex with multiple partners. The images were of interest to Teddy and Cheryl who had recommended the Manse as something better than their own city town house as a venue for white slaving and prostitution. To Teddy's disappointment the pictures had been carefully selected and showed everyone, including Mary Jones, ostensibly having fun. He would have liked to see her screaming.

Pip poured the champagne, doled out the pills and proceeded to strip Teddy and his mother naked—"for old times' sake". They talked nervously for a while. Cheryl admitted to keeping one or two of her "old clients" who appreciated discipline. She had learned from the cousins how to play the part of domina. She had also learned recently what rates the young men had charged for her services and was highly indignant at the high percentage they had taken. Cheryl soon had greater reason to be indignant as the weekend began with Pip making her ride up and down his familiar thick knobbly-veined cock while her gay son, pumped up with 'pep-pills', was made to fuck her ass. Teddy's efforts were reinforced by Byron who made sure the young man gave his mother full measure by skewering Teddy's tail and guiding him into her ring and keeping him deeply imbedded.

Later, Cheryl got into a black leather bustier that forced her tits up and together and just showed the dark pink of her areolae above a frill of black lace. A leather miniskirt and thigh-high stiletto-heeled boots completed her dress for the evening. She tucked a thin whip into her right boot. Teddy was disgusted that his mother, slightly tipsy from the champagne, appeared to be cooperating happily with the rapists. Pip explained she would be well looked after in a classy hotel room with a series of clients each booked for an hour long "workshop" with a "strict disciplinary consultant" at $500 a head. Why shouldn't she look happy? They left Teddy behind with the packet of photographs and an unwanted erection.

The next few days life at the Manse settled into a routine.

Mary woke the others and was promptly fucked by the two sleepy young men She bathed and was able to have a brief conference with Jeremy. Then she cooked breakfast wearing only an apron so her visitors could admire the view and possibly make up for being too sleepy earlier to do justice to her charms. She would dress in jodhpurs boots and a skimpy top for an hour's riding at Jefferson's Farm accompanied by either Pip or Byron—both of whom were competent horsemen. Jeremy would go about parish business or retire to his study and his draft manuscript, "Natural and Political History of Skirmish Valley". Mary would give the driver a blow job on the way back from horse riding and be prepared to be fucked by one or the other young man as she took a shower. She prepared lunch dressed in whatever costume Pip decided was appropriate for the day. Usually it meant Mary wore neither pants nor bra, with a mini skirt and see-through or revealing top. Mary tried to moderate the hooker look by wearing large floppy hats and, if the weather permitted, a blazer or tweed jacket. The afternoons were busy. Pip and Byron were both able handymen and started to restore some of the decaying structure of the church. They also did some odd jobs at Jefferson's Farm. Jeremy had parish affairs to see to and Mary needed time for routine housework if the Manse was to remain liveable.

The rapists still made demands on Mary's body at inconvenient times but as she told Jeremy. "I'm coping. The riding helps. They're very friendly with Samantha. She's an attractive woman. I can't see them moving in to the farm while Matthew is there although with the twins the set-up could be regarded as something better."

She added, "They aren't as brutal as they were. But you, Jeremy, now seem almost as eager to fuck me as they are during the bed-time orgy."

He muttered an apology and said something about the pills.

"Don't apologize. You are my husband after all," said Mary

Jeremy was concerned at the youth's interest in Jefferson's Farm. If they did see it as something better than the Manse and moved in they would still be operating in his parish and still be too close to Mary. Furthermore there were the twin teen-age girls to consider. He, like Mary, was confident that while Matthew remained at the farm the rapists would steer clear. His hope was they would tire of country life altogether and return to the city. Alas, both his confidence in Matthew and his hope the cousins would tire of their rural pursuits was baseless.

When Friday dawned Jeremy asked Pip whether he planned to take another trip to the city without Mary. Pip grinned, "Are you hoping to buy your wife a sex-free weekend, vicar?"

Jeremy reached for his checkbook.

"Put it away for now. Don't worry, were staying here. Got a little job to do tomorrow. Might even come to church on Sunday. What's the sermon? Love thy neighbor but don't covet his wife? Something queer like that?"

Jeremy, who was beginning to question his sexuality, was not amused.

Bishop Carmine was an athletic bachelor aged fifty three. He wore his gray hair shoulder length and this, with his beard and moustache, gave him the appearance of an aging but active cavalier. He was not a man of faith. He had long ago given up believing three impossible things before breakfast. He was however a brilliant organizer and was responsible for the church's city and district's impeccable administrative record and scrupulously run finances. He was the first—and more often than not the final—arbitrator of the more intractable problems that arose on a daily basis. Carmine was a troubleshooter. He knew people with influence in the most unlikely places and where the bodies were buried. Believer or not the archbishop would fight to keep him. Carmine had an austere office in the arch-bishop's palace. He started work at seven each day.

Carmine was also a sexual sadist, a fact he kept hidden from all save his personal assistant—Ms Elvira Silverstone—a baby faced spinster of thirty two who shared the same sexual preference but never the same bedroom.

"You should see this first, your Grace," said Elvira placing a glossy color photograph and an anonymous hand-written letter on Carmine's otherwise empty desk.

Carmine first examined the photograph. It showed a woman being tit-fucked by a handsome Eurasian youth while a man, aged about forty, knelt between her thighs, his tongue dripping saliva or some such fluid.

"I recognize two of them he said and I can deduce who the cameraman is. I don't know the woman. Good looking. Nice tits," said the bishop. "Let me see the letter."

He read, Is this what your fucking clergy get up to while the world starves?

"Oh dear," he said. "I thought we'd solved this one."

"You know the author?" said Elvira impressed yet again at her boss's incredible skills.

"Yes a young homosexual curate who is now on probation and living with his mother. He is no doubt angry that his former lover has not only married but has married a raving beauty- if that is the wife in the picture. I guessed it was young Edward who sent it when I saw the photograph but I know of no one else these days who writes with a copperplate script. The forty year old cunnilinguist is his former boy-friend, the Reverend Jeremy Jones. This is an act of spite. Jones didn't indicate he was bisexual when I reviewed his case earlier this year but the picture isn't posed and he seems to be enjoying himself."

"Brilliant, 'cunnilinguist' I like," said Elvira "And the youth? Who is he"

Carmine grinned at his PA. "If I told you that I'd have to kill you," he said. "I would like you to handle young Edward. He's known as Teddy. Here is his address." Carmine scribbled an address on the back of a business card taken from a drawer.

"I would like any other photographs like this he may have. And information about the subject, date and venue of this one. He won't be anxious to talk. You may have to hurt him a little but use your discretion."

Elvira smiled and licked her lips.

"Please tell him he is being reassigned to the Trobriand Mission leaving as soon as arrangements can be made. Have a word with his mother. She's a teacher at the local high school. Any questions?"

"Where are you going, your Grace?"

"I'm going to see his mother," said Carmine tapping the photograph. "Then later in the week I may drop in on the Reverend Jones and his juicy bride."

Elvira found Teddy at home that Friday afternoon. He let her into the house only after scrutinizing her credentials carefully. Teddy wondered what the bishop's PA wanted with him. He didn't suspect his anonymous letter would be traced to its source so quickly. Teddy was shocked when Elvira told him why she had come. At first Teddy denied all knowledge of the pictures and the letter and demanded shrilly that she leave.

Elvira, her blond hair done in a bun, was dressed modestly in a light-weight business suit and court shoes. She reminded Teddy of his ethics tutor at Theological College so soft and friendly was her manner. She sat on the leather chesterfield in the sitting room by the young cleric. She took his left hand between her long fingers.