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RP4 camera her bedroom asked

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Adults Only

This fictitious tale of sex and violence (and dark doings in

consecrated quarters) is not suitable for children or others who are

prohibited from thinking about such things.

RAPE'S PROGRESS Part 4

I spent the first few weeks in the Juvenile Detention Center

establishing myself as a hard case. This meant kicking the shit out of one

or two bullies and generally behaving like a wild man. One result of this

campaign was that I was left to my own devices - another was that I

acquired a disciple, one Jacoby Smee.

Smee was convinced I had saved him from taking a beating when I

selected a large fat boy, who was persecuting him, as one of my targets.

Smee became my shadow, cell-mate and source of information. Smee knew a

lot about the JDC having already served six months of a two year sentence

for arson. He had been a trainee in an video/electronics business and was

employed by the JDC to help maintain the network of surveillance cameras

which covered every inch of the facility. He even had his own little

workshop.

About five weeks into my sentence, Smee and I were digging a drainage

ditch in the vicinity of the Chapel when a big breasted woman and a girl
sauntered past. 

Smee told me they were the Vicar's wife and daughter. The girl
attended a boarding school but the woman lived in the Vicarage inside the

prison walls.

Smee grinned at my obvious lust.'You wanna see her naked?' he

asked.

Smee was happy to show me his 'collection' of secret video tapes in

which the vicar's wife co-starred with a variety of vibrators.

'You put a spy camera in her bedroom?' I asked, amazed at his nerve.

Smee was very timid.

'Yes,' he boasted, 'The vicar said it was for security, but he's a

liar! The camera switches on when she turns on the light and it records

everything onto a tape in the vestry. I soon twigged it's for him!' Smee

laughed. 'He doesn't know I take a copy of every tape.'

We were crouched over a monitor in Smee's workshop looking at the

colored image of a mature woman masturbating. She was in her early

thirties, I guessed, and a natural blonde. She had trimmed her pubic hairs

neatly but a golden blush showed clearly. She seemed to draw inspiration

for her fantasies from a stack of old 'Detective' magazines.

'What do you mean, Smee, by saying "it's for him"?' I asked.

'The Vicar. He doesn't sleep with her. But he likes to watch her

doin' things, on tape.'

'What a waste!' I sighed, and wondered how I could make the vicar's

wife my next fuck-toy.

'Tell me about the Vicar, Smee,' I said, as we watched the taped

images of the priest's wife bring herself to orgasm after orgasm.

Smee giggled. 'The Reverend looks after a couple of parishes outside

the can so he's away from home quite a bit. He spends Saturday night in

the Chapel vestry workin' on his sermon - that's what he says! But I saw

on him one night floggin' his mutton and moanin' and groanin' over the

week's tapes of Mrs Vicar's bedtime story'.

'Have you got a tape of him wanking?' I asked the puzzled Smee.

'Why would I want to do that?' he protested, 'I'm no poofter!' He

blushed bright red and I wondered whether he really was gay and whether he

knew it or not. 'Why?'. 

 'Because,' I explained patiently, 'if he

ever gets wind that you have these copies of his tapes he will be able to

accuse you of spying on his wife. It will be his word against yours and

who would you believe, eh?'

Smee's face went from pink to grey. 'Christ!' he exclaimed, you're

right! Oh! Oh dear!'I know, I'll rig a camera in the vestry and get a

tape, or a disk, of him slamming the salami next Friday. Thanks,

Sebastian, er, you wouldn't like to help me, would you?'

And that's how I came to join the Chapel choir, so as to be able to

help Smee get some dirt on the vicar.

It turned out to be a very good move because the choir mistress was

none other than the horny blonde who took her nightly pleasure with a dildo

and old copies of 'Detective' and who, I was sure, would appreciate the

sort of sexual activity I had in mind. I was wondering how to get the

cuddly blonde woman alone when, on my third attendance at choir practice,

she surprised me by asking me to remain behind after the evening

session.

'Don't worry', she told the bored warden, I'll make sure that the

young offender is returned to his room before lights out. I need some help

in sorting the hymn books and I'm sure Sebastian will be able to assist

me.'

I could hardly believe my luck when, after we had tidied up the hymn

books, she sat down in the back pew in the chapel and asked me to sit by

her. She licked her lips, nervously.

'I've been meaning to talk to you,'she began, 'about the way you look

at me during choir practice!'

I smiled. It was true that I had mentally undressed the choir

mistress during every session. In my mind I had stripped her item by item

until she was naked and begging to be fucked.

'You're a very attractive woman,' I said, 'you must expect to be

looked at.'

'I followed your trial in the newspapers. I hate to guess what you

are thinking when you stare at me like that,' she said.

 I slid along the polished wooden seat pressing my hip against

hers.

'Do you really?' I whispered. She edged away but I followed until

she was wedged between the end of the pew and my leg.

'I also read the court transcript,' she said hoarsely.'The things you

did to that poor woman! She was raped for eight hours!'

It probably made more exciting reading than your 'Detective'

magazines, I thought, but pretended to be contrite. 'It was the drugs and

whisky, Ma'am,' I said, 'It was just bad luck the lady, Joy, came home when

she did.'

'You made her do a striptease!'

To Mozart, I thought. Bloody difficult to strip to the Marriage of

Figaro but Joy had done her best. I put a warm hand on the choir mistress'

black stockinged knee. 'Yes,' I admitted,'but I let her keep her hat on

while she blew me.'

Her eyes opened wide and I slid my hand between her thighs, past the

soft white flesh above her stocking top, to feel the slick dampness of her

panties.'You can keep yours on, too!'I whispered as I forced the thumb and

forefinger of my right hand under the elastic lace trim and took a hold on

her moist cunt.

'Now, take my prick out,' I said, 'and do as she did!'

She hesitated for only a moment before she obediently unbuttoned my

crimson (young offender) cassock and unzipped my jeans. My erection sprang

into her hand.

'This is rape!' she said in a croaky whisper, 'If anyone comes in I

shall scream for help!'

'I understand,' I said, as he she knelt between my legs and took my

prick into her trembling mouth, 'It has to be rape.'

 It had been some months since I had

serially fucked the unfortunate Joy, so I was eager and not very

considerate of the vicar's wife. I ripped her dress getting a fistful of

pink and white tit to swing on while I rammed my swollen cock down her

throat until I came. This caused her to choke and she passed out

momentarily. When she came to, she found I had laid her on the chapel

floor with a hassock under her hips and her skirt around her waist.

'What shall I call you, Ma'am?' I asked politely.

She didn't hear me. She was wiping her mouth and her eyes were on my

prick which was re-erecting after a brief period of detumescence. I

slapped her exposed breast to gain her attention. 'What's your name,

Bitch?' I hissed.

'M....Mary!' she gasped.

'Well, Mary,' I said quietly, 'are you going to take off your

knickers or shall I? I think you should ask me very nicely to fuck

you.'

She started to cry. 'Enough, I've had enough!' she wept. I ripped

her panties off. They were black lace. 

'No! Don't!' she cried, backing away from me, trying to put her legs

together. Her cunt was moist and pink and slightly puffy. I went into her

without any foreplay. Right in - scrotum deep - as hard as I could. She

didn't scream as her mouth was filled with damp black lace. She was as

tight as Joy had been at first but, unlike my earlier victim, Mary climaxed

almost immediately and enjoyed multiple orgasms during the 'ordeal'.

In the weeks that followed I raped Mary, the vicar's wife, twice a

week after choir practice and after Evensong on Sundays.

I mean 'rape' because that is exactly what she wanted it to be. Had

we been discovered by anyone in authority Mary V would have dissolved into

tears and pointed to my dreadful record - the marathon rape of poor Joy X

who had been rogered unmercifully for hours and made to perform a variety

of 'unnatural sexual acts' as the tabloids put it. I didn't tell her about

Miss Howard, my first sex-slave, who had disappeared with Rebecca, the

fence's daughter, before the trial because I had a similar fate in mind for

her. As it was life in the Juvenile Detention Center (JDC) was made more

bearable thanks to Mary.

Our routine was simple. I had been appointed hymn book monitor and

so stayed behind after choir practice to help. As soon as she could, Mary

would summon me to the back of the chapel - one of the few places in the

JDC which wasn't covered by surveillance cameras - and say something like,

'This can't go on!' while I roughly exposed her breasts and ripped off her

pants (if she was wearing any). She would then have a genuine attack of

panic or conscience and would demand that I stop. At this point I would

throw her down, tie her up or bend her over and penetrate her as roughly as

I could. She always came more than once before I did. In the pause

between my first orgasm and re-erection (about ten minutes then) Mary would

plead tearfully with me along the following lines.

'Please, Sebastian, don't do to me what you did to that poor

woman!'

'What are you gabbling about?'

'You used her breasts . . . most cruelly . . . '

'You mean don't tit-fuck you?' Mary nodded, eyes as big as saucers as

I laid my erection between her creamy breasts and squeezed them together

and stroked until her chin was coated with my latest ejaculation.

The arrangement had other effects.

Smee reported that the vicar's wife seemed to have 'gone off the

boil' with the vicar having only one or two tapes a week to view on

Saturday night instead of the previous six or seven. He showed me a tape

of the reverend gentleman masturbating in front of a monitor showing Mary

plying her vibrator. He called it his 'insurance'.

For the Christmas concert Mary performed some songs from 'The Sound

of Music' and it was after the dress rehearsal that we met at the back of

the chapel.

'I don't think even you, Sebastian, would take advantage of me if I

really was a bride of Christ,' she said as I undid the cord belt of her

habit. She was wearing only a pair of grip-top stockings under it. 'You

wouldn't rape a poor defenseless nun, would you?' she asked, relishing the

role of innocent about to be ravished. 

I told her to be quiet as I tied her hands behind her back. The

costume was a cheap one and the fabric ripped easily and in no time at all

I had stripped her completely naked. She began to panic in earnest as I

hustled her down the aisle and up the three steps to the altar.

'For God's sake!' she implored, 'The security cameras!'

I had already disconnected the surveillance camera covering the altar

but I let her go on believing we were being recorded. Using a metal bar as

a spreader I fixed her ankles about a yard apart then tied her to the solid

brass cross center-piece. All the time she was pleading with me to stop,

and for once I think she really meant it.

I silenced her with a hard slapping then I hooked the spreader behind

the vertical arm of the cross and fastened it in place. This forced Mary's

legs up and back and positioned her neatly trimmed cunt at the edge of the

altar. I unzipped my fly and, standing before the altar, laid my erect

penis on the proffered pussy.

'Oh God!' she cried, as I slid my cock up and down her cunt-lips

without penetrating. Then, 'Oh, dear sweet Christ!' as I drove it home an

began to fuck her properly. 

As usual Mary came three times to my once.

When she'd caught her breath, she begged me to release her, which I

did, but only after I had lubricated her puckered pink sphincter with cum,

rolled a thick-walled condom onto my throbbing prick and roughly introduced

her to the joys of sodomy. She hobbled home, weeping stickily, dressed in

one of her husband's cassocks.

Mary let me know that, in future, she was going home straight after

choir practice. She also said that the lock on her back door was broken,

anyone could break in!

Knowing the risk I was taking I followed Mary to the manse after the

very next choir practice. I stripped her; beat her and fucked her on the

bed which was the focus of Smee's hidden camera then I left to await

developments. 

The next day a horrified Smee couldn't understand my unconcern.

'You raped her!' he kept saying, 'In her room, on her bed! You knew

you were bein' recorded. Christ! They'll lock you up and throw away the

key!'

I smiled and kept my fingers crossed. Sunday came and went. The

vicar said nothing but I caught him looking at me with what could have been

envy. Smee reported that his 'insurance' camera showed the vicar was very

excited when viewing his tapes on the Saturday night - particularly the one

featuring one Sebastian X. Smee was amazed! I was relieved and Mary

remained in blissful ignorance of her appreciative audience.

I resumed my thrice-a-week rogering of the vicar's wife, happy in the

knowledge that he was deriving some pleasure from the relationship. He

stayed away on the nights I broke in and 'raped' his Mary - she still

insisted on the fiction as both a safeguard and to satisfy her special

fantasy.

I learned that her husband had never consummated the marriage, being

incapable of sustaining an erection. Sophia, her daughter, was the result

of a teen-age romance. The vicar had married Mary, not as an act of

charity, but to acquire the necessary status for his present, well paid,

position of prison - I mean JDC - chaplain.

In the manse I was able to be much firmer with my 'victim' than I had

been when I screwed her in the chapel. My favorite routine was to tie one

of Mary's hands to the foot of the bed and bind her ankles together before

fucking her doggy fashion. Her efforts to accommodate my large organ

squeezed it delightfully and I had no trouble sustaining the erection long

enough to give her the frequent climaxes she craved. Her tits swung and

quivered beautifully throughout. I would finish the evening by buggering

her while forcing her to masturbate with her free hand. If she complained

I would beat her. It was a most satisfactory, if brutal, arrangement which

pleased us both.

All good things come to an end and it was with great surprise that,

after serving only six months of my sentence, I learned I was to be

released on probation. The vicar, it seemed, had persuaded the parole

board that I should be let go early. He cited my exemplary behavior and

dedication to the chapel and its choir as examples of my newly reformed

character.

As my guardian was still at sea I was to be released into his wife's

- my sister-in-law's - custody. The happy event was to take place in two

day's time and I was to be picked up from the manse where the vicar had

arranged for his wife to give me a farewell tea.

It was clear to me that the vicar had resolved the issue, and avoided

a scandal, without having to admit to bugging Mary's bedroom or to knowing

about our sexual activities. The 'farewell tea' provision showed a sense

of humor I hadn't realized he possessed. Mary told me to come the night

before my release. She had a French maid outfit and she thought I should

make her take it off to music.

At the bottom of the sports bag which held my pre-conviction clothes

and effects, and which had now been returned to me, I found a few loose red
pills. These were some of the remaining 'Joy Balls' which, washed down

with scotch, had led to my undoing and poor Joy's day long ravishment. The

authorities, if they had seen them, probably mistook them for candy.

Arriving at the manse, I was met by Mary looking sexy and cute in her

French maid's outfit. I was shown into the living room. While she

obediently fetched the silver topped cane, which I used to thrash her, from

her bedroom, I crushed a 'Joy Ball' and dropped it into the vicar's sherry

decanter. I had the 'maid' serve me a glass of sherry. The effect was

less dramatic than before but as Mary stripped for me under threat of a

beating, I felt the familiar swelling of my balls and the blood pumping

into my cock giving me an erection which refused to be denied.

Mary's striptease was much less clumsy than Joy's had been, but then

she had picked her own music and wasn't trying to fit her actions to the

strains of grand opera.

Soon, the vicar's wife, now wearing only a garter-belt, stockings,

shoes and a lace cap, knelt at my feet and unbuttoned the cassock which I

had put on rather than wear my own clothes. Reverently she fondled my

swollen scrotum, momentarily puzzled by the increase in size, then she took

my rod-like erection in her mouth and began to suck. Mary used her tongue

to enhance my pleasure and it became only a matter of time before I was

going to explode inside her mouth. When I did she rocked back on her heels

gulping and gasping.

'Where did all that come from?' she exclaimed. Then, seeing no

softening of my large, rigid, organ she said, 'My God! What am I going to

do without my masterful, well-hung, lover?' and promptly fastened her lips

once more around the purple-veined shaft.

At that point I looked up to see, standing in the doorway, Mary's

daughter - Sophia - home a week early from boarding school.

'Mother!' she wailed, 'How could you?'

RP4 The End

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