Chapter Eight
I sat nervously next to Jack as Pastor Hungwell went over the bid from Jack's
construction company. The pastor's church was adding a new wing and the job was
very lucrative. Pastor Hungwell went through each page of the bid in meticulous
detail. Also included with the bid were several eight-by-ten glossy photographs
of me wearing my string bikini. The pastor studied those very closely as well.
"Well, Jack," Pastor said, slipping the photos in his desk drawer. "This is a
very ... attractive proposal. The lord has certainly blessed me this day ...
uhm ... and the church, too, of course."
"I thought you'd like it, Pastor. Now, if you don't mind, the surveyors are
outside and want to take a look around. Dixie here has a question about joining
the choir. You think fifteen minutes with dixie is enough time, Pastor? Then
we can go over the plans."
"Sure, Jack. That should be plenty of time. I'll join you and the survey team
in the conference room."
Jack patted my shoulder in a patronly way. "Be a good girl, dixie," he said
before winking to the pastor and leaving the office.
"Well, dixie, as you can see; I don't have much time. So let's go to my special
prayer room, shall we?" He stood and opened the door, motioning me to enter. I
was wearing a very conservative skirt that hugged my legs all the way to my
ankles. I could only take small, quick steps to the prayer room. "That's it,
my child," the pastor said, patting my fanny as I inched my way in.
The prayer room was dark, lit by a solitary light in the shape of a candle. In
the middle of the room was a small, padded bench. "Kneel and lay across the
prayer stool, dixie. That's it." I felt the zipper in back of my skirt go
down.
The pastor knelt behind me and placed his divine staff at the entrance to my
primary cock pleasure sheath. "So you want to join the choir, dixie? Let's
hear you hit a few high notes."
After my choir audition, I went to the church bathroom and inserted a tampon so
I wouldn't stain Jack's car seat. As I waited nearly an hour for him to finish
his meeting, I spent the time leafing through fashion magazines, which were the
only reading materials I was allowed.
Jack got in the car, all smiles. "I'm gonna make a killing on this church deal,
sweet cheeks. That peckerwood pastor isn't even going to look at other bids.
Must have been my smooth salesmanship." He started the SUV. "Sissy hands,
dixie." I gently cupped his balls as he drove to the gym and talked into his
cell phone.
"Yeah, Donnie. We're gonna need a lot cheap labor soon. Round up the usual
suspects." He dialed another number. "Pete? How's that bid lookin' on the old
folk's home? Great. Fuck yeah, include the pics." He dialed one more number.
"Stacey. Pack our bags, baby. We're going to Bermuda."
