'The worst sin of all is very simply that I'm jerking off while talking to you.'
More seconds of whispering inside, and finally almost aloud:
'If you don't believe me, I can show you.' And indeed, Simone stood up and spread one thigh before the eye of the window while jerking off with a quick, sure hand.
'Okay, priest,' cried Simone, banging away at the confessional, 'what are you doing in your shack there? Jerking off, too?'
But the confessional kept its peace. 'Well, then I'll open.' And Simone pulled out the door. Inside, the visionary, standing there with a lowered head, was mopping a sweat-bathed brow. The girl groped for his cock under the cassock: he didn't turn a hair. She pulled up the filthy black skirt so that the long cock stuck out, pink and hard: all he did was throw back his head with a grimace, and a hiss escaped through his teeth, but he didn't interfere with Simone, who shoved the bestiality into her mouth and took long sucks on it.
Sir Edmond and I were immobile in our stupor. For my part, I was spellbound with admiration, and I didn't know what else to do, when the enigmatic Englishman resolutely strode to the confessional and, after edging Simone aside as delicately as could be, yanked the larva out of its hole by its wrist, and flung it brutally at our feet: the vile priest lay there like a cadaver, his teeth to the ground, not uttering a cry. We promptly carried him to the vestry.
His fly was open, his cock dangling, his face livid and drenched with sweat, he didn't resist, but breathed heavily: we put him in a large wooden armchair with architectural decorations.
'Senores,' the wretch sniveled, 'you must think I'm a hypocrite.'
'No,' replied Sir Edmond with a categorical intonation.
Simone asked him: 'What's your name?'
'Don Aminado,' he answered.
Simone slapped the sacerdotal pig, which gave the pig another hard-on. We stripped off all his clothes, and Simone crouched down and pissed on them like a bitch. Then she jerked and sucked the pig while I urinated in his nostrils. Finally, to top off this cold exaltation, I fucked Simone in the ass while she violently sucked his cock.
Meanwhile, Sir Edmond, contemplating the scene with his characteristic hard-labour face, carefully inspected the room where we had found refuge. He glimpsed a tiny key hanging from a nail in the woodwork.
'What is that key for?' he asked Don Aminado.
From the expression of dread on the priest's face, Sir Edmond realized it was the key to the tabernacle.
The Englishman returned a few moments later, carrying a ciborium of twisted gold, decorated with a quantity of angels as naked as cupids. The wretched Don Aminado gaped at this receptacle of consecrated hosts on the floor, and his handsome moronic face, already contorted because Simone was flagellating his cock with her teeth and tongue, was now fully gasping and panting.
After barricading the door, Sir Edmond rummaged through the closets until he finally lit upon a large chalice, whereupon he asked us to abandon the wretch for an instant.
'Look,' he explained to Simone, 'the euch-aristic hosts in the ciborium, and here the chalice where they put white wine.'
'They smell like come,' said Simone, sniffing the unleavened wafers.
'Precisely,' continued Sir Edmond. 'The hosts, as you see, are nothing other than Christ's sperm in the form of small white biscuits. And as for the wine they put in the chalice, the ecclesiastics say it is the blood of Christ, but they are obviously mistaken. If they really thought it was the blood, they would use red wine, but since they employ only white wine, they are showing that at the bottom of their hearts they are quite aware that this is urine.'
The lucidity of this logic was so convincing that Simone and I required no further explanation. She, armed with the chalice and I with the ciborium, the two of us marched over to Don Aminado, who was still inert in his armchair, faintly agitated by a slight quiver through his body.
Simone began by slamming the base of the chalice against his skull, which jolted him and left him utterly dazed. Then she resumed sucking him, which provoked his ignoble rattles. After bringing his senses to a height of fury with Sir Edmond's help and mine, she gave him a hard shake.
'That's not all,' she said in a voice that brooked no reply. 'It's time to piss.'
And she struck his face again with the chalice, but at the same time she stripped naked before him and I finger-fucked her.
Sir Edmond's gaze, fixed on the stunned eyes of the young cleric, was so imperious that the thing went off with barely any hitch; Don Aminado noisily poured his urine into the chalice, which Simone held under his thick cock.
'And now, drink,' commanded Sir Edmond.
The paralyzed wretch drank with a well-nigh filthy ecstasy at one long gluttonous draft. Again Simone sucked and jerked him; he continued guzzling tragically and reveling in it. With a demented gesture, he bashed the sacred chamber-pot against a wall. Four robust arms lifted him up and, with open thighs, his body erect, and yelling like a pig being slaughtered, he spurted his come on the hosts in the ciborium, which Simone held in front of him while jerking him off.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Legs of the Fly
He dropped the swine and he crashed to the floor. Sir Edmond, Simone, and myself were coldly animated by the same determination, together with an incredible excitement and levity. The priest lay there with a limp cock, his teeth digging into the floor with rage and shame. Now that his balls were drained, his abomination appeared to him in all its horror. He audibly sighed:
'Oh miserable sacrileges…'
And other incomprehensible laments.
Sir Edmond nudged him with his foot; the monster leaped up and drew back, bellowing with such ludicrous fury that we burst out laughing.
'Get on your feet,' Sir Edmond ordered him, 'you're going to screw this girl.'
'Wretches…' Don Aminado threatened in a choking voice, 'Spanish police… prison… the garrotte…'
'But you are forgetting that is your jizm,' observed Sir Edmond.
A ferocious grimace, a trembling like that of a cornered beast, and then: 'The garrotte for me too. But you three… first.'
'Poor fool,' smirked Sir Edmond. 'First! Do you think I am going to let you wait that long?
First!'
The imbecile gaped dumbstruck at the Englishman: an extremely silly expression darted across his handsome face. Something like an absurd joy began to open his mouth, he crossed his arms over his naked chest and finally gazed at us with ecstatic eyes. 'Martyrdom…' he uttered in a voice that was suddenly feeble and yet tore out like a sob. 'Martyrdom…' A bizarre hope of purification had come to the wretch, illuminating his eyes.
'First I am going to tell you a story,' Sir Edmond said to him sedately. 'You know that men who are hanged or garrotted have such stiff cocks the instant their respiration is cut off, that they ejaculate. You are going to have the pleasure of being martyred while fucking this girl.'
And when the horrified priest rose to defend himself, the Englishman brutally knocked him down, twisting his arm.
Next, Sir Edmond, slipping under his victim, pinioned his arms behind his back while I gagged him and bound his legs with a belt. The Englishman, gripping his arms from behind in a stranglehold, disabled the priest's legs in his own. Kneeling in back, I kept the man's head immobile between my thighs.
'And now,' said Sir Edmond to Simone, 'mount this little padre.'
Simone removed her dress and squatted on the belly of this singular martyr, her cunt next to his flabby cock.
'Now,' continued Sir Edmond, 'squeeze his throat, the pipe just behind the Adam's apple: a strong, gradual pressure.'
Simone squeezed, a dreadful shudder ran through that mute, fully immobilized body, and the cock stood on
