“And Raymond Wright? You surely don’t expect me to believe that the humanist chapel roof collapsed on him, unaided?” I queried with the assorted throng.
“Raymond Wright is the reason Raymond Wright is dead!” Sylvia barked, before Shaun chimed in.
“As head of safety and planning he let the chapel deteriorate so he could have it condemned and pick it up cheaply for demolition,” Shaun furiously commented.
“We had asked him for months to release the funds so the repairs could be carried out. After all, it’s a grade II listed building,” Doctor Diviner pointed out. “Didn’t you nearly get hit by masonry?”
“What? Oh. Well yes,” I recognised, before Byron butted in.
“Raymond Wright purposely let the structure of the building worsen to the point of dereliction,” Byron said with visible venom. “The chapel is a big part of the village and its status as a symbol of this community and its values. Raymond Wright had no values and so suffered his fate at the hands of the Karmic Universe”.
“THE KARMIC UNIVERSE!” they all chanted.
“And Grace Gardner?” I asked, puzzled. “Am I meant to believe she just impaled herself on her own shears?”
“Grace was notoriously clumsy with those bloody shears!” Martin whinged. “She nearly had my eye out a few times, and she cut her own finger off, don’t forget”.
“But the person who attacked her tried to grab the shears! I saw them!” I raged at the assembled group.
“What you saw was me trying to save her life. I only popped in to give her the invite for tonight’s meeting and she impaled herself, but rather than leaving them in she tried to remove them,” Hugh Huntsman said with everyone nodding. “I mean Roger was with me, he saw, didn’t you, Roger?”
“I did. Grace tried to take them out which, anyone who has ever been impaled knows, leads to instant blood loss. Hugh was trying to keep the shears in to make sure the wound was sealed, which is when you saw him cut himself. We even called for an ambulance after you got flattened by that car,” Roger informed me, giving Hugh a cast-iron alibi, with the FSO managing with a few sentences to render my suspicions of this being some village-wide cover-up to be completely bogus.
“This isn’t some grand conspiracy then?” I challenged them, as they all sat around with puzzled expressions.
“NO!” They all replied, in unison.
“So, if this is no grand conspiracy…then where’s Mel?” I demanded. For a moment all that fed back to me was silence, before a cheery voice intervened
“Mel’s fine, Michael,” Frank responded, emerging out of a shadowy doorway, also wearing a long black cloak, but rather than a hood over his head, he had an old-fashioned policeman’s helmet. “We brought her here before just like we tried to bring you”.
“So, you can do what? Use her as the play-thing of the Forston Surveillance Organisation?” I asked to the assorted amusement of everyone gathered here.
“We are not the Forston Surveillance Organisation,” Byron Butcher responded, wiping away tears of laughter. “We are the Forston Swinging Orgy-ists!”
At that, those at the table removed their hoods and undid the front of their robes to reveal naked bodies galore beneath. I stared at Catherine, her caramel, pert breasts and curly bush standing out in front of most of the others. It felt like she was too good to be caught up in all of this?
“I thought you said when we were together that this was the first time you’d been that intimate in years?” I asked, remembering what it was she said to me after we finished making love.
“Yes, that’s true. It was the first time I’d been intimate and close with anyone like that for years…this is just sex!” Catherine remarked. It was then that the jigsaw puzzle of the last seven days of lunacy and madness all slotted together perfectly. I had created Catherine as this lifeboat to rescue myself from my failing marriage, like she was this perfect woman, when really there was no perfect person that could save me, I had to save myself, and possibly even Mel.
As they started to move from behind the table I sprinted out of there, determined to find what had happened to my Mel. I ran down the corridor and saw candlelight coming from behind two stained-glass panels in a door. I headed over and stared through the glass in wonder.
On a Queen-size bed were the Christian couple I had seen protesting about the sordid filthy state of the world. They were both naked and she was sucking on her husband’s cock with wild abandon, working the length with her hand, seeming almost desperate to pump his seed into her mouth, all whilst she was being ploughed from behind on the bed by someone else I didn’t recognise, their hips smacking together loudly, her muffled noises of delight and her husband’s throaty groans all combining in a lustful symphony of delight. The young woman disengaged her husband’s rod from her mouth to give instructions to the guy behind her.
“URGH! Stick that cock in my ass!” she instructed the guy behind her. I watched, paralysed by curiosity and dread as he slowly sank his length inside her anus. Once there he pulled back and started hammering away again as she started to suck on her partner’s cock again. “MMMF, HNNF, GRRR! Oh yeah, fuck that ass! Fuck me in the ass!”
I watched as the three people undulated in a twisted rhythm before the primordial part of my brain reminded me why I was there. Mel! Find Mel!
I ran to the next room that had light cascading from it and stared through the window at the occupants. On this bed were four people, two I didn’t recognise and two I did. There were two women with their heads hanging over the edge of the mattress, their mouths open and lips quivering. One of them had long, dirty-blonde hair in loose curls, the other jet black hair, shorter and with tighter curls. Between their legs were two men I did recognise…It was DS Booker and DC Barber, their faces between the two women’s thighs as they feasted on their sopping holes. The dark-haired woman looked down at DS Booker and chuckled.
“What’s…MMMM…what’s so…oh, fucking Hell…what’s so funny?” the blonde asked, looking over at her friend.
“Your husband’s…got…a moustache,” the raven-haired woman replied. The blonde looked down between her legs and saw DC Barber devouring her tasty slit and she laughed as their pubic hair looked like their other halves’ ticklers.
“Oh yeah…so does yours,” the blonde replied with a smirk. The two women then moved their faces closer until they were within touching distance and began to kiss whilst the other one’s husband provided oral pleasure, each one of them lost in the moment. It certainly explained why my back-up never arrived.
I moved down the corridor looking in various rooms, most of which were empty until eventually I came upon one that wasn’t, and my heart sank before it tried to beat its way out of my chest as panic set in. I gazed through the window and saw Mel…and she was being tortured. Mel was naked and had leather restraints around her wrists and ankles, holding arms and legs apart. Behind her was Doctor Bart; the wide, lumberjack of a Doctor who was also without clothes, his state or arousal over my naked wife obvious, but he wasn’t sticking his dick in her. Oh no. What was happening was much worse. He was paddling her arse. Mel was attached to some kind of gimbal and this brute of a man was slapping her backside with a wooden panel.
SMACK!
“Ungh!” Mel whimpered, clearly in pain. Doctor Bart teased her after the paddle had cracked against her backside.
“You’ve been a very naughty girl haven’t you?” Bart chided my Mel.
“Yes,” Mel whispered. Bart moved his hand back to strike her again, bringing the wooden panel down fiercely on the other cheek.
SMACK!
“AAAAGH!” Mel screamed. I couldn’t believe what was happening in front of my eyes. I didn’t even want to imagine what Mel must have been feeling.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Mel wandered through the house feeling like Alice in Wonderland, albeit a naked Alice in wonderland beneath the black gown Frank had provided her. Mel had been told that the house contained numerous worldly delights for her to sample. She had thought of inviting Michael but decided against it. The two of them had issues unresolved and having him here may well confuse her. Best to resolve those after the monthly gathering of the FSO (Mel assumed that it stood for Forston Surveillance Organisation) where apparently they all got together to have some sort of huge blow-out. She had come here with numerous people; Emma, Euan and Frank, amongst others. Mel felt comfortable being here with their familiar faces around. The grand ballroom where they were gathered held around sixty or seventy people. It was nice to relax and enjoy a laugh with good company before Frank apologised and said he had to take care of some urgent business and left, at this point Mel also decided she’d had enough and elected to go off on her own and explore the old Manor House.
Mel wandered down a huge corridor of the former castle that had been converted into a grand stately home some time in its past, as she did she would gaze into the rooms, many were empty but some had started to be occupied. In one room a man and woman were on a bed, the woman had curly mousy hair that was strewn over and down the side of the bed. She was led on her side with one leg outstretched and her other leg in front of her, the guy was sat astride the outstretched leg, powering into her, the woman’s breasts jiggling with every thrust, the two of them heavily into each other as they locked eyes.
“You like it deep, don’t you?!” the guy barked.
“Oh, yeah. So deep! So fucking deep!” the woman meekly responded as the sound of their hips smacking together could be heard in the hall.
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