The Vicar of St. Dunstan's Ep. 13

"I have good news and bad news from the Clarissa quarter."

Mary frowned while Mavis kept sewing, cheerfully ignorant of what was going on. "What's the good news?" Mary said dubiously.

"She's going to give us the money to fix the Vicarage Roof."

"All right, what's the asking price?"

"My day off."

Mavis did a double take, and Mary frowned some more. "And what does she want to do on your day off?"

"A 'Day of Agony' as she called it; an elaboration of last year's entertainment."

Mavis asked: "And what was last year's entertainment?"

I turned to Mavis and waited until she looked at me. "Do you remember how we treated the Bishop's daughter a year and a half ago."

"Old Hachet Face?"

"Herself."

"Oh yes, I remember. Quite a lovely little game and well played."

"Clarissa played a little game to give me money for the improvement drive, then insisted I give her the complete Violette treatment not to stop the payment on the cheques."

Mary shook her head. Mavis plowed on blithely: "You mean you handcuffed her naked on theprie-dieu, put mousetraps on her tits and spanked her while fucking her doggy style?"

"Yes. Now, she wants an entire day of torture, with no boundaries, in exchange for paying for the roof."

A bright smile lit up Mavis' face. "When do we plan this out, Vic? I've got some lovely ideas for that little tramp already. Too bad Millie can't come down; she'd adore this." Mary rolled her eyes, although I caught a glint I didn't recognize.

.

Throughout the weekend I got e-mails from Clarissa, bland in tone, but with attachments that showed some of her preferences for Monday. I was sitting in my study on Sunday afternoon when Mother Mary Rufus gave me a phone call. "Hi, Alfred, how's it going? Are you coming by tonight?"

"Bleak, Barbara, bleak. You were right about Percy and Stan; the Vicarage roof fell in the other day and it was their screwball practice of patching it together to get by that created the crisis. If they just told me what was going on, I would have been able to take my time replacing it; now I have to work every side of the street to get it fixed quickly."

"How much?"

"I figure £25,000."

"Whew, that's a lot. I'd go ahead and give it to you out of Mom's account, but my brothers and sisters would have my hide for it. She'll be herself soon, can you wait that long?"

"No, not with November weather. I got a pledge to cover the amount, but it comes with a price."

"That price is?"

"A day with Clarissa Clyde-Walker, tomorrow." Stunned silence came down the line. "Are you still there Barbara?"

"Yesss, I'd forgotten about her," she started slowly. "I remember the little bitch; she was two years younger than I. Oh, what I'd give to see her squirm, that proud little. . ."

"If you're free tomorrow, I could arrange it."

"Tell me more." I told her about the plans for Clarissa's 'Day of Agony', and her response was immediate. "I'm taking tomorrow off and I'll be there; what do you need me to bring?"

"Not much. Are you any good monitoring a digital video recording system?"

"Just took a refresher class in it last year. We do some promotional and devotional digital video clips in house, and that was my one of my jobs before I ascended to glory eighteen months ago."

"That's perfect, Agnes is busy all day and can't help us. If we can get a good video, we should be able to neutralize her anytime she wants to use her influence in future."

"How so?"

She's happy to be married, and having hubby find out about her–recreation would ruin that."

"Done, done and done. That little bitch has bad mouthed me, humiliated me and worse since we were in grade school. I'll be there at 7:00AM to get acquainted with your system and the lay of the land."

"See you then."

It was Sunday evening when I was able to give Clarissa's pictures a thorough looking over; Mavis brought my Tea that evening, so she was able to look over my shoulder as I prepared the schedule. Mavis was very helpful, and her suggestions were very interesting.

"Well, luv, we'll have great fun tomorrow," Mavis said at last. "She's always been a nasty little guttersnipe and I'll adore watching her squirm. Have you got what you need?"

"Yes. Thanks for helping me. Tell me, what do you think of Barbara Parkhurst-Frazleton?"

"Our little Barbie, who ran off and became a Catholic nun? A spoiled brat for a very long time, but a good pal of my Millie. Glad she found her calling with God and made good, even though she swam the Tiber."

"What would you think if she came over to run the video tomorrow?"

Mavis thought for a moment. "Barbie was always a clever gel. She still a noone?" I nodded my head. "Well, I guess noones are different these days. Barbie P-F. was always reliable if you asked her to do something, and she always did things right, which is more than I could say about her older brothers and sisters. I don't have a problem with it, if she doesn't."

"Even with what we have planned for you to do?"

"Even with that. Barbie dislikes Lady Clarissa more than I do, and she's got good reason; Clarissa tore into our Barbie with both claws many times growing up. Sister Barbie's a grown woman; she can handle herself, I'm sure, if she's willing to do this."

I digested this bit with some surprise: I would have thought Mavis to be a little more outraged at a nun recording an intense scene like this, but Mavis always surprised me.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like a little warm up tonight, luv?" She asked, batting her eyes outrageously.

"No, I think I need to save myself for tomorrow. It's going to be a long day for all four of us."

"Okay."

At 7:00, a tall woman got off the bus in front of the Church wearing a dark red sweats, mirror sunglasses and a red handkerchief covering her head. The building was already open, thanks to our new Sexton, Derrick Sterns, and I heard a knock at the door leading from the Church shortly afterward. I got up from my morning paper to see who it was: it was Mother Mary Rufus of St. George's, aka Barbara Parkhurst-Frazleton.

A flying embrace almost knocked me off my feet. She buried her tongue in my mouth for several long minutes, and just when I thought I would asphyxiate, she released me. "Good morning, Alfred."

"Good morning, Barbara."

"Time for a quickie?"

"I don't think so, unfortunately. Need to pace myself so we can give Clarissa as much punishment as we can. Computer's this way. Coffee?"

"Oh yes, thank you." I poured her a cup of French Vanilla coffee and led her to my study where the computer was already set up and the cameras downstairs active. She pulled up the control panel, poked around a few keys, tried the mouse, and pronounced herself ready.

Right then, Mavis came through the door. "Cooie, Vicar, are ye decent?"

"In here, Mavis."

She bustled in and immediately reached out toward Barbara. "Oh, our little Barbie doll, come home at last." I could see Barbara wince as Mavis embraced her, but smiled warmly as they broke the embrace. "It's good to see you, lassie. How's your mum?"

"Hopefully, she'll be out of Hospital next week. How's Millie?"

"Oh just grand, chasing four teenagers around the house and keeping them out of trouble. I'll tell her you said hello."

"Thanks." Barbara looked at Mavis for a long moment, then broke out in a huge smile and hugged her. As they broke, she said: "Would you mind going downstairs and just walking around so I can practice the tracking controls."

"Sure, luv." Mavis laid a huge, gentle paw on Barbara's cheek. "It's so good you see you, lass."

Then Mavis went downstairs to walk around for Barbara's benefit.

Promptly at 8:00AM, Clarrisa Clyde-Wright pulled into the parking lot by the Church, and came into the Nave. Mavis and I were waiting in the hallway by the connecting corridor; shortly the clip of high heels reverberated on the linoleum Three knocks on the door, and I opened it. She stood there, in a white raincoat and black heels, her head covered by a scarf and dark eyeglasses on her face. I found a monk's habit at a costume shop, with a matching nun's outfit for Mavis. We led her to the kitchen, were I took her coat and scarf; her sunglasses went on the table.

Her eyes darted between us, a combination of excitement and fear. She wore a longsleeved, high necked black blouse and black slacks over her heels. I poured her a cup of coffee, and she took it black. Mavis looked at her in fascination; Clarissa grew uncomfortable under her gaze and said at last; "Good morning, Mrs. Hazelton."

"Good morning, Clarissa. How are you this morning?" Mavis intoned sweetly.

"Nervous. You?"

"Ah, it's a grand day, and I hope you'll think it one as well. You've come to the right place, luv." Mavis gave her a bawdy wink and looked at her with ravenous eyes.

Clarissa turned to me in worry. "What part is she going to have in this?"

I put my hand on Clarissa's shoulder, and squeezed. "Mavis is here to oversee, recommend and assist me should I need it. You don't need to worry, the only one who will be touching you today is myself." She relaxed a little, sat and drank her coffee.

Standing in front of her as she finished it, I took her by the shoulders, pulled her to her feet, and said: "From now on, you will do what I command or you will be punished. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, Master."

"Very good. Use the restroom before we go downstairs; I don't want any accidents in the middle of this." Clarissa was directed to the W.C. in the housekeepers' quarters, and after she returned I beckoned her downstairs.

The Recreation Room was decorated as a dungeon. A myriad of candles illuminated the room, chains were hung in several places, mostly for decoration, and the pool table was covered by a black sheet of plastic. A black covered table held many instruments, ready for use, and a bar hung from the ceiling, cuffs at either end open to caress delicate wrists and possess them. In front of the bar was theprie-dieu, facing the position, and several feet beside it was a chair with a small table holding a double hot plate and a couple of pots. Clarissa took all this in with wide open eyes, biting her lip, and trembling slightly. I beckoned to a chair by the door. "I believe it is time to remove your clothes."

Clarissa removed her clothes, her hourglass figure and porcelain skin shone in the candlelight. Her inch wide nipples grew stiff at the touch of the cool air of the basement; her breathing grew shallower and quicker. I took her hand and lead her to the bar, gently lifting one hand to bind it, then the other. She stood before me, her eyes gleaming, ready.

Mavis cut in. "Concentrate on your breathing, luv. Take long, deep breaths, or you'll hyperventilate. We can't be having that, can we?" Clarissa shook her head and worked to control her breathing. Her eyes followed me as I went to the table and pondered where to begin.

"You said no safewords, Clarissa. I'm going to give them to you anyway: doing without is madness. Let's stay with Yellow for slow down and Red for stop. If you're gagged, three thumps with your hand or foot mean slow down and another three mean stop. We have a first aid kit here, and all the candles are paraffin. It would be very unromantic if your day of agony took you to Hospital, and it would be difficult to keep that news from Percival. Agreed?"

Nodding her head, Clarissa kept looking around. "Understood and agreed, although I think I'm pretty tough."

We'll see. Let's start slowly, we've got all day. "

Sitting where Clarissa could see her was Mavis: she was hovering over a hot plate, on which was a pot of water with a metal bowl above in an improvised double boiler. A candy thermometer stuck out of the top, which Mavis checked from time to time. From my angle, I could see Clarissa staring at the pot, while Mavis grinned inanely as she stirred the mixture.

Picking up a small flogger, I whipped the wall just behind her as hard as I could. She flinched, and I hit it again. Then, rubbed the strands of the whip across her backside, she wiggled her hips in invitation. Another two sharp cracks landed on the wall, and Mavis laughed as Clarissa recoiled from both of them. A glance upward at an almost invisible camera showed it follow her closely. I aimed a blow to just miss her back; she felt the breeze and stuck her backside out farther toward me. Two more deliberate misses, then a sharp crack against the wall.

"What's wrong with you, Goddamit," she screamed. "Aren't you going to hit me?" From the back, I could tell that her face was red with frustration.

I struck the perfect porcelain backside in front of me. It left a faint frazzle of red lines on her right hip: I essayed three more licks of the whip, spaced in time, augmenting the pattern. Moving to the left hip, four kisses fell quickly, bringing moaning and a comparable design. The next five licks fell at a moderate tempo on her shoulder blades, followed by a pair of quick snaps to each hip.

A look at Mavis told me how things were going, she nodded as I questioned her with my eyes. Coming up close, I trailed the strands of the leather up and down her legs, barely touching the skin, as she quivered a little. The strands navigated the tender valley between her hips, she moved to broaden the crevasse and I circled to make a deeper pass with the flogger. Suddenly, I lashed at the back of her legs and calves in a flurry, moving up to deepen the angry nest of red on her hips. Just as quickly, the punishment stopped and I ran my hands over her shoulders, down her back, over her hips and down her legs. Coming back under, my hand probed around to find her folds, wet already, tracing my finger just close enough to feel the electricity of her genitals but not making contact.

I walked around in front of her, standing within reach; her eyes followed me greedily. Putting the flogger down and picking up a riding crop, I observed: "You want this, don't you?" She nodded her head. "You want this on your front, don't you?' Another nod, sweat was already streaming down her face and body. "Not yet. My arm is a little tired and needs to recuperate. My John Thomas is hard and needs some attention. You seem a little tied up right now." Mavis snorted at the bad line. "So I'll have to ask dear Mavis to assist me." She flounced over in her habit and knelt on the floor in front of me, unbuttoning my cassock. "You will count the strokes, and if you miss one, I'll have to remind you."

As Mavis pulled my stiff wand from my cassock, Clarissa whined: "When am I going to get that?"

"When I want to give it to you. Depends on how cooperative you are. Mess up or piss me off and you may not get it at all." Mavis had finished unbuttoning, and began to savor my erection. I kept my eye in Clarissa as I received my tribute; she kept her eyes on the action and kept counting. My knees started to go weak as Mavis' talents generated extreme pleasure; her tongue was soft and cunning and seemed to be everywhere on my cock and balls at once. Clarissa's voice began to warble and fade as she counted.

Two sharp shocks to her stomach brought her back to attention. My juices were starting to boil, but I had to get Clarissa's attention twice more before I was ready to explode. According to plan, I pulled reluctantly away from Mavis' talented mouth to ejaculate on her face. It ran in revulets down her cheeks on onto her habit; her questing tongue got a few drops between her lips. When I was done, I swept up a small morsel with my finger and fed it to Clarissa.

We released Clarissa, and led her over to theprie-dieu. We knelt her down and tied her hands to the sides of the furniture. I took away the chair, forcing her to kneel, and bound her hands behind her. Her breasts just covered the ledge, the little nipples barely peeking over the edge.

The buds were not as erect as I wanted them, so I took a piece of ice from a bucket and teased Clarissa's nipple into hardness before applying the clamp. Repeating on the other side, I tested the tension by pulling the chain. "Is this suitable, Clarissa?" I asked.

"Kind of you to inquire, Vicar, " she said calmly. "Yes, this will do nicely. The preparations are excellent, and I look forward to the culmination of this particular exercise."

"Fine. You will count the blows."

"One, two, oooh, three, ah, ah, ah, four, five, six, aiiieeee. . ."

It didn't take as long for the crop to turn Clarissa's tits deep red, and I pulled the chain quite high to get the expose of the underside of her breasts to whack it with a small plastic ruler. She screamed as I worked her over between calling out numbers, tears flowing freely down her face as well, but she didn't back down or come anywhere close to saying her safeword. Mavis watched the whole thing gleefully, rubbing my semen into her face.

After finishing up top, I went around behind and felt between Clarissa's legs: it was a damp and carnivorous swamp that tried to suck my hand in. I took the flogger again and I flicked once on Clarissa's cunt. She sighed and wiggled, so I repeated it. Several more repetitions, and she moaned: "If you keep doing that, I'll just explode."

"Far be it from me to disappoint you," I said, and kept whipping her clit until she almost fell off theprie-dieu in her orgasm. Mavis had to act quickly to steady her; in grabbing her, Clarissa's head ending up in the crack between Mavis' breasts. I untied her and the look on her face was one of disgust when we raised her to her feet.

"I appreciate you wanting to protect me, Mrs. Hazelton, but I hope that I will never again be where I just was; I almost asphyxiated," she said with a curled lip and a haughty voice. Her body glistened with sweat that poured from everywhere.

Reaching into a cooler, I opened a huge bottle of ice water. I grabbed her wrist and poured it over her; she danced away and shuddered, but could not escape the cold flood. When it was empty, I gave her an insouciant shrug: "You looked as though you needed to cool off. Would you like some to drink?"

Her eyes glared at me. "Yes, thank you,' she said through chattering teeth, taking another bottle and drinking it quickly. "Let me use the facilities before we continue."

"Of course." I brought a pan over and put it beneath her. "Here you go."

'What? You want me to pee in front of you and that tub of–in front of Mrs. Hazelton?"

"This is the 'Day of Agony' you requested, is it not? If you want to quit now. . ."

"No, no. I see your game, touché. I did ask for this. All right." She squatted over the basin and let loose a strong and melodious stream that reverberated for a minute and a half. I took the basin over by the door to the next room; Clarissa looked concerned. "You aren't going to do anything to me with that later, are you?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out, isn't it?"

Shrugging her shoulders, she stood waiting for the next exercise. I motioned her to a cot, indicating her to lie face up. Two sets of cuffs were fixed to the corners of the bed: I secured her arms and legs so she was flat on her back, spread eagled. I motioned to Mavis, and she brought over a basket of wooden clothespins: "These simple household objects are quite handy, aren't they?" I put five on the underside of her right arm, then five more on the left. "They'll hurt a bit now with the initial bite, but when they come off it will hurt more, especially if I leave them for a while." Five more went on the inside of each thigh, and several pinched into her waistline. "I think that this will fulfill your requirements for the next portion of our adventure this day."

Clarissa looked over at Mavis. "Mrs. Hazelton, have you ever had clothespins on your body?" she asked.

"No, luv, never thought of that before. Used enough on the line in my time, especially when my lassies were in nappies. Do they hurt much?"