Bloat was an oasis of peace, piety and plenty. The soil was rich, a thick holy loam tended with loving care by the vigilant farmers of the parish and blessed by a generous God.
At its heart was the ancient church, a towering keep, resolute, reliable and righteous, planted in the middle of the village like a sacred brain fanning out it's harsh tidings of rural toil and Christ's protection.
The church was run by the Vicar. He was a trustworthy man, a pillar of Bloat's structure. But the Vicar had fallen from grace, a secret he battled with in the confines of the midnight chapel. He had taken to wine and to the sins of the mortal flesh, frenziedly bedding both plump curates and lonely farming wives and imbibing endless chalices of the holy claret as he impaled them on the altar.
The villagers talked and the talk grew thunderous, eventually pounding on the Vicar's oak door that Christmas, driving him out in a drunken state, half-dressed, his cassock wide open, his dripping member still engorged and the nude wife of the Squire running out of the vestibule yelling:
"To Hell with you all cock-lickers!"
A pack of hounds was sent forth to drive the Vicar to some distant parish and the Squire banished his wife to the dark frigid hills beyond the light, where she fell further and further into the wild embrace of the cruel winter.
Bloat appeared to prosper in the New Year. For a while at least. The barns were full of fecundity and the village-folk enjoyed fitful dreams wet and sweated. The Squire took to a new wife, a beautiful visitor with red hair. She was regal, lusty and of fierce temperament. He adored her but at the height of his carnal fires she left abruptly and did not return. He was desperate to be sated.
Meanwhile Bloat was still without a vicar. A barren basket, it was the first year in a hundred where the fruitful mass was missing from rustic life. The sacred heart had furred and the old faith of the people grew limp as the barned seed began to fester.
As the sun sank on Bloat that March the rutting hares stopped and stared at the stranger striding along the cinder path toward the village. At turns voluptuous, curvaceous, hideous and feral, the vague form solidified into a long-haired man wearing a course habit and carrying a long pronged pole to aid his awkward gait.
The man pounded on the thick door of the Squire's hall, where he was shown in by a full-chested housemaid. She bid him welcome and in the darkness of the hallway kissed him voraciously.
"Do I know you Father? You look vaguely familiar," said the Squire ramming the embers with a fire dog as the guest appeared.
"I can't imagine it my Lord. I have come by here but once before and I do not recall your penetrating figure."
"Penetrating eh! I have been known to enter my subjects with noble cause!" slapping the stranger hard on the shoulder from where the merest wisp of inky smoke arose.
The Squire chuckled at his own banter, as did his guest, who raised his bushy monobrow and smiled from ear to ear like an oyster.
"Come my fellow. Sit. Drink. Of what can I do for you?"
"Thankyou good Squire. I wish to be erected as Vicar in this vacant seat. Bloat needs a new masseur of souls I wager. My own God has guided me to you like a hungry drone in need of honey."
The stranger placed his hand on the Squire's thigh, grinned and squeezed. The noble felt inexplicably aroused and his bulging codpiece strained.
"You appear fulsome Squire. Let my humble digits assist!"
The guest undid the leather thongs at one side holding the Squire's codpiece in place. His turgid phallus sprang out and the stranger began to rub it with increasing vigour.
"The vacancy. I would like to fill it Sir!"
"But are you ordained?"
The stranger flicked his hair aside and took the Squire's cock entirely in his mouth and suckled. The Lord moaned and as he looked down he was sure he saw his errant wife's long red hair and the guest mounting her naked rump. He shook his head.
"The bacancy?" he mumbled with a full maw.
"It's yours. You are most assuredly our new Vicar!" he wailed climactically.
"Thank you Squire. You shall be first to be relieved!"
The stranger patted his flaccid member, rose and left, riding the red-haired housemaid out like a heated nag.
The Squire looked in shock and horror as the figure's cassock burned away revealing a steaming red body with a barbed tail and goat-hoofed legs kicking the filly.
The stranger turned one final time, a horned devil with a shark's smile, atop his bounding witch.
"Thank you for opening up your congregation Squire! Now go to Hell!!"
He clicked his steaming fingers and the screaming knight burst into violent crimson flames and was gone.
The devil laughed as he loped into the ripe streets of Bloat, the naked housemaid, the erstwhile wife, now straddling his scarlet shoulders, ferociously stroking his long horns howling:
A pack of hounds was sent forth to drive the Vicar to some distant parish and the Squire banished his wife to the dark frigid hills beyond the light, where she fell further and further into the wild embrace of the cruel winter.
Bloat appeared to prosper in the New Year. For a while at least. The barns were full of fecundity and the village-folk enjoyed fitful dreams wet and sweated. The Squire took to a new wife, a beautiful visitor with red hair. She was regal, lusty and of fierce temperament. He adored her but at the height of his carnal fires she left abruptly and did not return. He was desperate to be sated.
Meanwhile Bloat was still without a vicar. A barren basket, it was the first year in a hundred where the fruitful mass was missing from rustic life. The sacred heart had furred and the old faith of the people grew limp as the barned seed began to fester.
As the sun sank on Bloat that March the rutting hares stopped and stared at the stranger striding along the cinder path toward the village. At turns voluptuous, curvaceous, hideous and feral, the vague form solidified into a long-haired man wearing a course habit and carrying a long pronged pole to aid his awkward gait.
The man pounded on the thick door of the Squire's hall, where he was shown in by a full-chested housemaid. She bid him welcome and in the darkness of the hallway kissed him voraciously.
"Do I know you Father? You look vaguely familiar," said the Squire ramming the embers with a fire dog as the guest appeared.
"I can't imagine it my Lord. I have come by here but once before and I do not recall your penetrating figure."
"Penetrating eh! I have been known to enter my subjects with noble cause!" slapping the stranger hard on the shoulder from where the merest wisp of inky smoke arose.
The Squire chuckled at his own banter, as did his guest, who raised his bushy monobrow and smiled from ear to ear like an oyster.
"Come my fellow. Sit. Drink. Of what can I do for you?"
"Thankyou good Squire. I wish to be erected as Vicar in this vacant seat. Bloat needs a new masseur of souls I wager. My own God has guided me to you like a hungry drone in need of honey."
The stranger placed his hand on the Squire's thigh, grinned and squeezed. The noble felt inexplicably aroused and his bulging codpiece strained.
"You appear fulsome Squire. Let my humble digits assist!"
The guest undid the leather thongs at one side holding the Squire's codpiece in place. His turgid phallus sprang out and the stranger began to rub it with increasing vigour.
"The vacancy. I would like to fill it Sir!"
"But are you ordained?"
The stranger flicked his hair aside and took the Squire's cock entirely in his mouth and suckled. The Lord moaned and as he looked down he was sure he saw his errant wife's long red hair and the guest mounting her naked rump. He shook his head.
"The bacancy?" he mumbled with a full maw.
"It's yours. You are most assuredly our new Vicar!" he wailed climactically.
"Thank you Squire. You shall be first to be relieved!"
The stranger patted his flaccid member, rose and left, riding the red-haired housemaid out like a heated nag.
The Squire looked in shock and horror as the figure's cassock burned away revealing a steaming red body with a barbed tail and goat-hoofed legs kicking the filly.
The stranger turned one final time, a horned devil with a shark's smile, atop his bounding witch.
"Thank you for opening up your congregation Squire! Now go to Hell!!"
He clicked his steaming fingers and the screaming knight burst into violent crimson flames and was gone.
The devil laughed as he loped into the ripe streets of Bloat, the naked housemaid, the erstwhile wife, now straddling his scarlet shoulders, ferociously stroking his long horns howling:
"We're coming!"
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