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The Sex Dungeon

The Sex Dungeon

by Ray Gordon

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Jim Foster believes all his Christmases have come at once when he lands the job of manager at an ailing pub. But things are not as they seem. Profits are low, and his busty barmaid seems to enjoy pulling more than pints.

One night he follows her to the cellar, only to discover that behind the barrels of beer is a secret door that leads to a sex dungeon where


Jim Foster believes all his Christmases have come at once when he lands the job of manager at an ailing pub. But things are not as they seem. Profits are low, and his busty barmaid seems to enjoy pulling more than pints.

One night he follows her to the cellar, only to discover that behind the barrels of beer is a secret door that leads to a sex dungeon where the locals endure a very special brand of punishment. Jim himself becomes a prisoner in the dungeon and is forced to endure night upon night of sexual torment. Will he ever see the light of day again? Or will this place of debauchery be his home forever?

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Chimera Books Ltd
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Ray Gordon Erotic eBooks
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Skulking around the garden of the vicarage, Jim could find no sign of the entrance to the basement. Wondering whether the whole thing was a hoax and there was nothing beneath the house, he thought the idea might have been to keep his attention away from something else. Searching a clump of bushes, he decided that there was nothing of interest in the garden and he might as well go back to the pub. If there was a basement, he reckoned that the entrance would be in the house. If the entrance was in the house, then the vicar knew about the basement. If the vicar knew, then... He was going round in circles, he knew as he was about to leave the garden.

"What on earth...?" the vicar breathed, frowning at Jim. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I... Er... I was coming to see you," Jim stammered, forcing a smile.

"You wouldn't have found me beneath the bushes. What were you looking for?"

"I was just admiring your garden, Father. I'm a keen gardener."

"I see. Actually, I'm glad you're here. I want to talk to you about Mary."

"Certainly," Jim replied. "How is she?"

"I was hoping that she'd show some signs of improvement after you'd spoken to her," he sighed. "Sadly, she seems to be just the same."

"It's early days," Jim consoled the man. "I'll have to talk to her over a period of time before you'll notice any changes."

"Yes, of course. I suppose I'm rather impatient."

"Patience is a virtue, Father. By the way, is there a basement beneath your house?"

"A basement?" he echoed, shaking his head. "No, no there isn't. Why do you ask?"

"It was just something someone said. I'm interested in old buildings, you see."

"Jim, I'm not interested in buildings. It's my daughter I'm worried about."


"The thing is... She's been stealing candles from the church."

"I'm not surprise," Jim chuckled. "I mean, I'm not surprised that you're worried about her."

"She went to the church half an hour ago. I don't know what she gets up to there. But I can tell you that she's been stealing candles. What on earth does she do with them?"

"I'll go there now and have a word with her," Jim murmured, realizing that the church might have a basement.

"That's most kind of you, Jim. I'll be here if you need me."

Leaving the garden and heading along the street to the church, Jim reckoned that he was about to solve the mystery of the dungeon. He should have thought of the church earlier, he knew as he walked up the flower-lined path to the huge oak doors. The building must have been around a thousand years old. All churches of that era had basements, he was sure. Walking down the aisle towards the altar, he stopped and looked about him. The place was cold, eerie, almost like a haunted castle from an old film. Shuddering, he was at pleased that the Sunday sermon was over and the church was deserted.

Looking for a door or steps leading to the basement, Jim reckoned that Mary was in the bowels of the church. Who else was down there? he wondered, noticing a small door set in an alcove Was she enjoying a good anal shagging with a married man? Opening the small door, he made his way gingerly down the stone steps to a dimly-lit room. The basement wasn't as large as he'd expected, but that didn't matter. The point was, he'd discovered what he reckoned to be the infamous dungeon of Willycombe Village.

"What are you doing here?" Mary asked, emerging from a shadowy corner.

"Mary," Jim breathed, gazing in disbelief at the thin pink weals fanning out across the petite mounds of her breasts. "Are you all right?"

"Of course she's all right," a naked lad chuckled, stepping out of the shadows.


"This is Davey," Mary said. "We... we come down here to get away from people."

"I see," Jim breathed, eyeing the lad's snake-like penis hanging over the hairy sac of his scrotum. "Well, I'll leave you to it."

"You don't have to go," Mary said, her full lips furling into a salacious grin as she ran her hands down over her stomach to the swollen lips of her hairless pussy crack.

"He can't stay," the lad murmured as Jim scrutinized the girl's naked body.

"I want him to stay," Mary stated firmly.


"He stays, Davey."

"All right," he finally conceded. "But not for long."

Following the young couple through a heavy velvet curtain, Jim found himself standing in a large room with a table set in the centre of the stone floor. This was it, he thought happily. He was standing in the mysterious dungeon at long last. Again thinking that he should have realized that the church would have a basement, he gazed at the young lad. He was in his late teens with unruly blond hair cascading over his suntanned face. Tall and muscular, he wasn't bad looking. But where had he come from? Jim had never seen him in the village. In fact, he'd never seen any males under the age of forty in the village. Noticing several bamboo canes standing in the corner, he turned and looked at the table. Handcuffs attached to the legs, two large holes in the wooden top, he knew exactly what went on in the bowels of the church.

"You said that I couldn't stay for long," Jim said, watching the girl lean over the table, her breasts slipping through the holes in the polished top.

"We're preparing for the monks," the lad murmured, spreading Mary's feet wide and cuffing her ankles to the table legs.

"The monks?" Jim echoed, his face grimacing. "What monks?"

"There's a sect of Devil worshippers," Mary enlightened Jim as the lad pulled her arms out and cuffed her wrists to the table legs.

"Devil worshippers? Fucking hell. I really don't think..."

"You've been going on about the dungeon since you arrived in the village," Mary cut in. "You've been asking anyone and everyone. Now, you've found it."

"Yes, but..."

"What's the matter?" Davey asked him. "You've found what you were looking for, so what's the problem?"

"I didn't realize that..."

"I'm the sacrifice," Mary announced. "They don't kill me, of course. They sacrifice me, sexually."

"Sexually? Christ, I can't believe this."

"You'll have to get out of here before they arrive or they'll be trouble," Davey warned him, taking a long bamboo cane from the corner of the basement.

"No, don't go," Mary breathed. "There's a habit on that hook over there. Put it on and they'll think that you're one of them."

"I'd never get away with it," Jim cut in.

"This is dangerous," Davey said, his face grimacing.

"I want him to stay," Mary persisted.

"All right. They might ask you for the code word. It's Veneris."

"Veneris. OK."

Grimacing, Jim gazed in horror as the lad brought the cane down across Mary's naked buttocks with a deafening crack. Where the hell had he come from? Surely the vicar must have known about the basement beneath his church? If he turned up and discovered his daughter... The vicar must have known what the girl got up to, Jim reflected. To allow the girl to meet Devil worshippers and... The man obviously had no choice in the matter.

Dripping with confusion as he watched the gruelling naked buttock caning, Jim didn't know what to think. Feeling anxious as he pondered on the arrival of the monks, he knew that he'd stumbled across something extremely sinister. The cracking of the bamboo cane across the girl's tensed buttocks resounding around the bowels of the church, Jim felt his cock stiffen, straining his zip as the girl whimpered with a mixture of pain and pleasure. Did he really want to stay and witness the sacrifice of Mary's body? Did he want to join in? There certainly was far more to Willycombe Village than met the eye.

"It might look better if you're fucking her arse when the others arrive," the lad said, parting the girl's glowing buttocks. "I usually give her an anal fucking and cream her up ready for the monks, but it might be better if you do it."

"Er... No, no," Jim breathed, still unable to comprehend the situation. "You do it."

"OK. But you'd better put the habit on before the others arrive."

Watching as Davey stood behind the girl and pressed his purple plum hard against the delicate tissue of her anal iris, Jim felt uneasy. A teenage couple using the basement for bondage and fucking was one thing, but a group of monks sacrificing the girl's tethered body? Something was wrong...

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