Mo & Curio & Old Man Rivers Gimp

Curiouser and curiouser... Moses looked around, his eyes suddenly noting an immaculately polished mahogany coffin on the floor. A candelabrum with five long black candles burning sat on one end of it.

Training the pistols on it, Moses walked up slowly to it.

"If you're in that coffin, I suggest you get out right now! You don't come outta there right now, it may not be till you smell bad and the fire ants have had their fill before they find you."

He heard shuffling and mumbling from inside. His first impulse was to shoot it up. But without opening it, he could not know if he had indeed killed whoever was inside and also, if they had some captured runaway child inside, it was not fair. Of course, teenage runaways died all the time.

So did men and women convicted of murders most foul.

Looking more carefully, he noticed the coffin had a padlock on it. Whoever was inside had to be let out. He or she could not get out voluntarily.

"Curiouser and way fuckin curiouser!" He whispered to himself.

Curio stumbled into the room, rubbing her eyes, looking very much like a little girl just waking from a kindergarten mat nap.

"Shit! He's in a coffin? Kinky!" She stopped in her tracks as the enormity of the room hit her in the face. Moses held his hand up, halting her.

"Room ain't clear, Lisa. Stay there."

Curio gazed around the room's illicit grandeur in a trance. "My God." She simply said. Her face told Moses she was probably wondering how much her soused mind was imagining and how much was real. Enamored, she stroked a gorilla mask hanging on the wall beside her. A dong shaped like a banana was affixed to the mouth. She sighed and chuckled in bewilderment. Moses knew if he was flabbergasted, stone-cold sober and on edge as he was in the room, his lady had to be far beyond insane as she looked slowly around.

"If you hear me, I see the lock on this thing. You a prisoner?" Moses crouched down to what he guessed was the head of the box. "You need some help?"

Funky Monks came on the jambox, faintly heard through the walls.

A man's confined voice rumbled through the dense wood. "I need out of here. This shit ain't fun no more, Freddy. Who the hell brought a woman out here? I thought we understood each other."

Moses smiled. Whoever was in the box was in for a rude awakening.

"Where's the key?"

"That ain't funny. Move that candleholder so I can get outta here, Freddy. It's gotta be getting late, isn't it?"

Moses smiled and picked up the candelabrum with a silk scarf he snatched from a mannequin bent nearly in half as it got its eunuch crotch gripped by a lady mannequin holding a riding crop. The base was seated on a hole bored through the lid of the coffin. A hard dick pushed itself through the hole, with a key tied with a bit of twine around the shaft. Moses jumped backward, surprised. He knocked over the mannequins.

"Whoa! Shit, man." He started laughing.

"Hurry up, Freddy. I have to pee." The voice echoed again from the coffin.

Moses picked the riding crop and used it to flick the key off the prick. Looking around, he grabbed a Zorro-style eye mask from a dummy and tied it around his face. Curio watched him and nodded. She put on the Gorilla-mask and sidled up beside him on rubbery legs, still looking around the room in awe from behind the ape-cock masquerade. He handed her the diving knife she normally carried strapped to her thigh and pushed her back with a forearm, holding a shush finger to his lips before popping the lock and removing it.

"Come on, Freddy!" The man in the box whined. They could hear him shuffling inside.

Moses flipped the lip up quickly, jamming the big Colt into the man's face as he sat upright.

"Oh my God!" A reflexive jet of piss shot in a perfect stream for an instant through the key hole before the man flinched his aim askew. The stream arced toward Curio, who took no notice. She giggled immediately. For an instant, they heard the urine stream striking the interior until he gathered his wits enough to cinch the release.

The man sitting upright in the coffin was clad in pink leather. A metal O-ring with a chain and latch was clipped to the straps that crisscrossed his chest. The straps were stitched to a setup on the groin that Moses thought looked like a medieval chastity belt. His hands were cuffed with little pink fuzzy handcuffs and chained to the O-ring. He was blindfolded but must he must have managed to pull up one eye at some point by dragging the strap with his head. It was crooked but the exposed eye widened as it beheld the muzzle of a .45 pistol an inch from it.

Moses sighed as he looked the sorry state of affairs both they and the man in question had found themselves. Dried semen was clearly all over him, scaly and flaking away as the leather bent from the man's motions.

"Good afternoon, Precious." Moses Holliday spoke, smiling and shaking his head subtly in dismay. The blindfold had "PRECIOUS" sewn into it.

"Mister, I don't know who you are," he looked at Curio as she stood beside Moses, hard nipples jutting through her t-shirt, sandy shorts displaying a duct-taped leg and wearing a gorilla mask he knew all too well, "or what you're about, but I don't want noooo trouble."

Moses sized the man up immediately. Slight build, pushing fifty. Close-cropped hair with more pepper than salt. His hands looked soft, palms pink as the leather. The face was soft, a hint of shadow on the jaw but he bet the man kept it shaved smooth as a habit. Something about the man spoke of money or stature. He could not pick which but Moses would have bet his bottom dollar the man was not concerned with dying near as much as being discovered compromised thus.

"Well, bud, I'm afraid there has been a bit of trouble." Curio kept giggling from behind her mask.

"What ever it is, it has nothing to do with me." He stammered. Moses reached over and pulled the blindfold off completely.

"You think they got that in my size, baby?" Curio looked the outfit over.

"Somewhere, I'm sure." Moses jammed the pistol in his waistband and crouched into a catcher's stance. "I'm bettin' you don't rightly go by Precious, now do you? You gotta name, handsome?"

"I like Precious." Curio nodded, the banana cock rising and falling on her face as she discovered a bit on the end of the dildo with which she can manipulate to tool with her mouth. "It's cute."

"My name is Hugh."

"Hugh what?"

"I don't think I need to tell you that."

"The pistol says you do."

"Driscoll. My name is Hugh Driscoll."

"Well. Good to meetcha there, Hugh Driscoll. This is Lisa and you can call me Al."

"A pleasure I'm sure." He nodded. Curio saw him staring at her tits and smiled behind the mask.

"You eye-fucking me, Precious?" She pointed the knife at him. So typical, he could end up eating a bullet and still a pair of perkies caught his attention more.

"No ma'am. I just never thought I would see that mask on a woman in here before."

"The mask is up here," She tapped her forehead. "with my eyes and all?"

"Sorry. It's instinct, I suppose."

She lifted her shirt and gave him a lingering look. "There, now you know, Precious." She forgot about her bruised chest. Hugh looked at the tits but visibly winced as he saw the discolored skin on her side. His eyes also studied the tape around her leg and then looked at Moses face. What was not covered by the Zorro mask was a mess of cuts and pockmarks with fresh scabs.

Moses looked at her side and winced. Something about the bruise reminded him that time was a factor.

"We kinda had a lil boat trouble today, Hugh. I'm sorry we broke up the whatever the fuck kinda party you guys got goin' on up here, but we kinda in a bind. We need a car." The smell of piss suddenly rolled from the coffin. Moses coughed and shook his head.

"Where are Peaches and Freddy? You can take their car, I'm sure."

"And we will. I assume that's your Oldsmobile, not theirs."

"Yes. I would rather you took their car not mine. Losing mine out here would pose a serious problem for me, if I may be blunt."

"They won't be needing it. That much is certain. Question is, Hugh Driscoll, is whether you'll be a-needin' yours."

Hugh turned pale. He knew without saying what they meant.

"I gather you a man of some importance around these parts? What are you? Alderman, city councilman, mayor maybe? Bank president?"

Hugh paused and swallowed hard. He looked away and murmured. "I'm the pastor of a local church."

"Preacher Precious!" Curio wailed in laughter and walked away to inspect more mannequins.

Moses shook his head at her. "You have to forgive her Hugh. She hit some of that shit y'all were smokin' and is a lil under the weather...well, hell that ain't right. She tits up in the clouds."

"Peaches and Freddy do that stuff. I do not." Hugh gulped.

"Did that stuff, Hugh. In case you had any doubts. They did that stuff."

"Kill him, baby. And come fuck me. I'm feelin' sooo fuckin' good over her!" Curio stripped off her mask. "Fuck that thing's hot as hell to wear!" Moses looked at her and then to Hugh, drumming his fingers on the grip of the .45.

"Lord, please be with me, your humble servant in this, his time of need." The preacher closed his eyes and locked his pink-handcuffed fingers together. Moses thought he never before had heard a word uttered to God so sincerely.

"I humbly ask your forgiveness and please be with my family, in Jesus name I pray." He opened his grey eyes and expected the pistol to be in Moses' hands. "Amen."

Moses scratched the back of his head. Old sweat from the day's jaunt was itching him all over.

"Who's house is this, Precious child of God?" He pulled up a stool, tossing aside a mannequin getting a rimjob from another aside with a casual shake of his head.

"Peaches."

"Peaches would be the catcher fag in the other room, I gather. I'm guessin' by his appearance anyway. Enlighten me."

"He was a submissive, yes."

"This house doesn't speak dainty girlie faggot to me, Hugh."

"It was his grandparents' house. They've passed away a long while ago. He inherited it."

"I see. And the other fella?"

"His name was Freddy Ainsworth. He lives, lived, not far from here. He was a prison minister over at Parchman."

"How may people know you're here, Hugh. I suggest you be extremely forthcoming right now. You are in fact in some serious debating for your life right now, I gotta tell ya in all fairness."

"Only us three."

"Only you, Hugh. The other two don't know much."

"Only me." Hugh swallowed hard.

"Where you right now? Officially."

"I'm at Parchman ministering to a death row inmate."

"That how you met that Freddy fella?"

"No, but he gave me the idea to use that as a cover. Not many phone calls allowed in and my wife wouldn't bother me there."

"Wife?" Curio strolled back over. "I figured you didn't like poonanny, Precious."

"I have four kids."

"Dayum! Baby, we got us a real pussy go-getter!" She flipped the diving knife over and over in her tiny hands.

"Apparently." Moses pulled the .45 and laid it in his lap. "How'd you three come to be hookin' up in a trailer in Arkansas, Hugh?"

"Peaches and Freddy knew each other a long time. Peaches was a member of a community theater troupe over is Jackson. They did a show at the prison some years back and the two of them me there somehow."

"How does a preacher man come to be in a pink leather thingee gettin' hisself all came all over in a fuckin coffin?"

"For real." Curio sneered.

"I met Peaches at a rest stop bathroom that I knew a lot of gay men hang at. Eventually, we started all coming here when we could."

"Ewww. You glory-holin' lil devil you. Damn, men do some messed up shit." Curio shook her head. She felt herself coming back down to earth somewhat.

"I'm not proud, ma'am. I always knew it may come back to haunt me."

"Yeah, in hell, Preacher Precious. What kinda preacher are you?"

"I'm a man of God. We're all fallen souls. I pray for the good Lord to guide me away from my desires, but I am weak."

"Clearly." Curio flopped on the futon. "Bring out the gimp!" She chimed. Hugh chuckled nervously.

"So is this a normal Saturday for you, Hugh? Or is this some special occasion kinda thing? You snatch up your good book, put on a blue suit, kiss the wife bye-bye and come get ass-drilled every Saturday by a coupla dudes cranked up on geek? Y'all just sit around here getting baked as lab rats and take turns playing coffin cocksucker?"

"It's my birthday, actually." Hugh said, embarrassed.

Moses erupted in laughter. "You don't say! I'm not even gonna ask how you take the cake candles."

"Happy birthday, Precious!" Curio called.

"This has been a fantasy of mine."

"Whatever floats your boat, Hugh. You the gimp, then? You a catcher, too?"

"I am. The idea of being in a coffin in such a manner has a perverse attraction for me. I don't understand it, so I don't expect you to. We were re-enacting that gimp scene she just quoted from."

"Pulp Fiction? No shit."

"Gimp's sleepin'!" Curio chuckled.

"Well, that's neither here nor there. Sorry to break up the party, Hugh. Excuse the intrusion."

"What are you doing here?"

"Nope. You don't get to ask me a damned thing. Another line you may recall is 'I don't remember asking you a goddamned thing!' I suggest you play the role of Marvin or end up like Marvin."

"Forgive me, but you two just came in a home not your own and killed two men. Maybe me as well, I know not yet. I think I'm entitled to hear an explanation."

"Shoot him, baby. Fuck this. My leg hurts again."

Moses locked his fingers behind his head. "We came to be in this house because God Almighty put us in here, Hugh. That needs to be a sermon for you. Divine intervention, right?"

"I hardly think you two are servants of the Lord, forgive me for saying."

"And you would be correct. But what you need to decide is did he send you to call you to heaven, send you to hell, or renew your faith and callin'. Maybe move on afterwards and to try real hard to be a true shepherd of fallen men. Rather than the sheep in pink leather getting ass-fucked by them. I hate a hypocrite, Hugh. And my girl, there, she really ain't too big on men of the cloth hiding their boners beneath them."

"I understand."

"Do you? I don't think so." Moses had the pistol at Hugh's head in a split second. "Bang! It's over. What happens to Hugh?"

A single tear erupted from each of Hugh's clenched eyes as the muzzle pressed into his ear. He flinched.

"I die." He blubbered.

"What kinda preacher are you?"

"A sinful one. Please don't shoot me, sir."

"I meant denomination. Baptist, Methodist. Penny-cost?"

"Assembly of God."

"Big congregation or small?"

"About two hundred regularly."

"Not too bad a flock, preacher. I bet you're all about Leviticus, ain'tcha. All that fire and brimstone Old Testament scripture and a good heapin' of Revelations when there's a juicy natural disaster on the television?"

"I know where you're going with that. You can stop. Though I am a sinful man, I do not condone my behavior in the eyes of God. And yes, I do preach against it, forcefully. It's leads down the road to hell. Look at me now, two murderers with a gun to my head, clad in this set of clothes, in a coffin where we lay our beloved to earth. Defiled by the seed of men. But yes, I do preach against sins of the flesh. I abhor sinful behavior because it leads one on a path away from God and toward evil."

"Do as I say, not as I do. Sounds like pride."

"FUCK PRIDE!" Curio yelled.

"If I can keep even one soul from the pit of hell by preaching the true word of God and yet end up in hell by my own behavior, I still will die with a clear conscience."

"How many people will point to your example as a beacon of the Lord if you die right now? Do you not understand that as a clergyman you are in a profession whose stock has fallen pretty fuckin' steeply? You die here and now, in a pink leather suit with cum all over you, every elegy and sermon you ever gave is for naught because however sincere your intentions behind the pulpit, it's the gossip they'll remember more. They'll sneer at you and your family. You got sons? Think of what they'll hear at school when they get old enough for hair on their nuts. For all the good you may or might have done, it's how you end up that counts. Pretty sorry if you ask me for a man of God to carry on in such a manner."

"You sound like a man whose been hurt by the church, Al."

"Hugh, I've been hurt every which way but Sunday. I've never known a God. Only man and men who claim to know God. Most of those we give drugs to or lock up because they're fuckin loony. The rest we pass a plateful of cash to fifty-two times a year. Me, I give a shit either way because I don't do psychos or pews."

"You don't fear God then."

The pistol retreated from his ear.

"I don't fear anything but losing her."

"Yet you may. Whatever it is you two are into, the wages of such actions are never the sweet embrace of paradise. The wages of sin is death."

"I read that bumper sticker, too."

"It's true."

"Yeah, well, try fucking her one night and you would know the sweet embrace of paradise. Where's the car keys around here?"

"In here with me. I make them throw them in here."

"Trust but verify, huh? Wise man. You get mighty hungry if they didn't come getcha. A man can't live by cum alone, eh. Lisa!"

Curio hopped up and walked over on swaying legs. He handed her the Luger. "He flinches when I get the keys, you gut shoot him." Moses chuckled and stood up.

"You hear me talking, hillbilly preacher boy? Trust me, she will get medieval on your ass if you act up."

"Please, get the keys. I just want to leave."

"See, Hugh? Common ground. We both just want to walk the earth, don't we?"

"Like Kane in Kung Fu." Hugh nodded.

"Then you be Fonzi while I get the keys, shitbird."

Moses fished under Hugh's armpits and found the handcuff key and two sets of car keys. He tossed the Camry set to Curio. She missed them and murmured, "Get him, Zed!" to a pair of mannequins fucking doggy style beside her as she picked the keys up.

Moses retreated to his stool. "So, Hugh Driscoll. Pastor of a bigass church, father of four, devoted husband. Grandkids?"

"Not yet. My children are young."

"How did you get out of cake and ice cream?"

"We are supposed to eat at Ryan's tonight. First, of course, I had to go to minister at the prison."

"Prison is way over across the Mississippi, Hugh. Maybe you got lost and now you are found."

"I am."

"Hugh Driscoll, longtime Pastor of a bigass church, devoted heterosexual husband, father of four. Veteran? I'm just trying to show you how you would prefer your obituary to read."

"I was in the Navy."

"Fleet?"

"Served aboard a destroyer during Vietnam. I was a chaplain then."

"Does that sound good as an obituary when you pass away after a good fight with colon cancer or a car crash. Maybe a nice heart attack in your sleep or something in about twenty years?"

"If it's God's will."

"Right now, it's Al's will." He shrugged as Curio stroked his short hair while handing the Luger back to him. "And Al's will is kinda leaning toward local clergyman found slain in houseful of fucked-up dead perverts with dope and fetish gear everywhere. It would be so much easier to just shoot you, you do know that, right?"

"Is it easy to shoot people?"

"One gets used to anything after a while. First time you got dicked in the ass, I'm sure you cursed yourself for it and all. But, it got easier. Just something you do now. With her, it got to be kinda a desire-inducing thing. Gets her all wet, if you know what I mean."

"Gushing just standing here, Precious." Curio said, dancing the tip of the knife across her palm.