Paco held the pillow over his ears, but it was no good. He could hear his son Biel screwing Laia in the next room.

“Si! Si! Si!” cried a feminine voice. At least it wasn’t his daughter.

He and Carolina had told Elia and Jordina that, as they were adults and Biel was allowed to bring a girl over, they could have a boyfriend round for the night, but they’d want to meet him first. Thus far, neither had exercised the option.

In truth, he’d have been glad if Jordina, especially, brought a boy home. At least she’d be out meeting people, facing the world again after her ordeal. She’d become an almost total recluse since the incident with the cult. He was considering suggesting that she should return to Madrid with him.

Today would not be easy for her. The police would be over at noon to update them on the investigation.  Furthermore, that day, his wife Carolina had started to talk about tracking down the men responsible themselves and taking their own revenge. It was prompted by a dream she’d had, apparently. Paco liked the idea in principle, but he knew he was no Don Corleone. 

“Ah! Si! Si! Ah!”

He pictured Laia, his son’s girlfriend, naked and on her back. Laia had ginger hair. Paco knew the term, ‘red in the head, fire in the bed’, and Laia strongly gave the impression of living up to it. Paco pictured Laia’s sweet little breasts jiggling up and down and her lovely legs high in the air…Paco had seen Laia in short shorts. She had lovely thighs that were big boned, not chubby but thick and muscular. The cries from next door became shrill. Paco reached for his cock and jerked.  

*            

“There were three cultists at the seminary, one of whom Laia says was her priest. Unfortunately, his remains have now been identified positively. Laia, he was the one you killed while escaping.”

The policewoman hated doing this. She was there to bring the worst news.

“As the others were both robed and hooded and, in your statement, you say that you never saw their faces, I’m sorry, but it is going to be very difficult to find these men. Satanic cults are very rare and, as you can imagine, they are extremely secretive.”

Jordina felt a lump come to her throat and tears well up and she scuttled out of the room. Carolina got up and hurried after her daughter. Paco watched as Laia’s dad put his arm around Laia, then he looked at the girl. He knew what she’d been doing the night before. He knew that black t-shirt had been on the bedroom floor. He knew that mouth had been kissed. He knew those eyes had widened and rolled with pleasure. He felt his dick harden.

“So, there’s nothing you can do, is what you are saying?” he growled.

“Not nothing, we are looking for these men, trust me. But I need to be frank with you and tell you not to get your hopes up. Our best hope, honestly, is that one of them has an attack of conscience and confesses.”

“Pfff…fat chance,” Laia spat.

The policewoman left the two families alone. The girls and Biel went upstairs morosely. Carolina was still with Jordina. The two fathers were left alone.

“I have an idea,” Laia’s dad said to Paco,

“What about infiltration?”

“What do you mean?”

“We find out the name of this cult and we join it. We learn the men’s identities and then…ahem…hand them over to the authorities.”

“I’d do it. But how can we find them out?”

“They won’t be on the regular internet, like google. But we could find them on the dark web.”

“Would they even have a site?”

“Not necessarily a page, but we might get an email address at least.”

 “And do you know how to access this dark web?”

“I do. It’s part of my trade.”

“Then let’s get to it.”

*

It would tire the moon to relate the labyrinthine trail they followed through the deepest recesses of the uncharted corners of the internet. But eventually, they had a breakthrough. An email contact for a man who called himself “High Priest Mandok”, and who was based in Tarragona.

“That’ll be him. I’ll write to him. See what he says.”

Paco set up a fake email address and wrote to the man. He received a reply within hours.

“We would be open to discussing the terms of your joining our movement. Come tomorrow at seven to this address. Knock twice. Come alone.”

“You or me?” Laia’s dad said edgily.

“Me. I’ll wear a bodycam and a sound wire, hidden of course.”

*

The door opened. A man in his forties opened it. He was wearing all black. Black trousers and a black polo neck sweater. His head was mostly bald, and he’d shaved the rest short. 

“You are ….?” and he spoke the false name Paco had given.

“I am.”

“Come. Sit,” the man indicated a chair at a big oak desk.

“We don’t get a lot of enquiries. Why are you interested in joining us?”

Paco had prepared his story carefully. He was terminally ill, he said, and wished to do deeds and leave chaos and destruction for which he would be remembered for a long time.

“I see.”

The man clasped his fingers together, his elbows on the desk.

“And would you be willing to undergo an initiation ceremony? A test of your commitment to our Master?”

“I would.”

The man was scrutinizing him intently, looking, Paco knew, for any hint of insincerity or insecurity.

“Very well. To serve our master, you must take pleasure in pain. Your initiation will commence in two minutes. If you fail, you will be expelled and never given a second chance. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

A woman entered. She was tall and about thirty. She was blonde and wore jeans and a denim jacket. She did not smile.

“Ah, now she is here, we can begin. Take off your trousers and underpants, please.”

As Paco undressed, he made sure that his coat was hung on the rack in such a way that the go-pro camera he had concealed in the inner lining, but which was filming through a hole, was focused on the desk. The man went to a cupboard and pulled from it a thin, whippy cane. The man swished it through the air, and it whistled. The cane was about a meter and a half long, thin and made of rattan.

Paco stood half-dressed before him and the woman, acting his heart out, desperate not to make a mistake that would betray him.

“Bend over the desk. Hold still.”

Paco knew he had no choice. He leant across it, and he felt his bottom tighten. The wood was very hard on his stomach and his ribs. This was for Jordina, he told himself. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the first stroke. As he felt the air across his bare and vulnerable bottom, however, to his surprise, his dick began to harden. Yes, it was getting erect. He’d never considered BDSM or spanking with his wife and was pleasantly surprised to find himself turned on.

Crack! The cane struck his buttocks across the center. The pain was severe and immediate. A stinging line lit up across his backside.

“Ow!”

The woman walked around to the other side of the desk from the cultist and crouched. In fact, she crawled under the desk and…

To his astonishment, Paco felt her begin to fondle his dick. He grew even harder.

Crack! The second stroke was viciously hard and landed right on the middle of his prone backside.

 “Ah!”

The woman under the desk had his cock in her grip, and she’d added lubricant to her hands.

Crack!

 Now Paco was in agony. His bottom had been cut by three hard strokes of the cane and it hurt much more than he had imagined corporal punishment would.

God knew how many they would give him. But now she was blowing him. So, this is what he meant by pleasure and pain...

Crack! The fourth stroke seemed to bury itself into his skin, so hard did it smash into his bottom. He yelped. Meanwhile, having his penis attended to yet being unable to see it was both strange and extremely erotic.

Crack! Oh, he couldn’t stay like this much longer, he was stamping his feet and swaying side to side, deeply turned on by the stranger sucking his cock and the warm stinging pain across his backside that the cane was producing…

Crack!

“Ow! Ow! Ow!”

“Silence!”

Crack! This time he bit his lip to keep quiet, and the blowjob was still going on. He was going to come at this rate.

Crack! Paco’s ass felt like a hot mess. The pain was indescribably bad. It felt like someone had burned it with a live, naked flame. But his dick was as hard as he could ever remember, and it was wet and the tugging sensation as it was sucked was so hot…

Crack!

Crack!

Crack!

Oh, these guys would pay for this. They’d pay for his children’s suffering, and they’d pay for this agonizing pain…

Crack!

A second after the fourteenth stroke landed, Paco lurched forward and, with a cry, he came in the woman’s mouth.

A second later, she got up and out from under the desk.

“It is done, master.”

“You may stand,” said the man.

Trembling all over, Paco gingerly stood, rubbing his bottom. The priest shook his hand.

“Congratulations, brother, you are now in the tribe. Our next prayer meeting is at this time on Sunday. You’ll join us?”

“I will.”

Paco was true to his word, and he was able to secretly camera film that Sunday prayer meeting too. Paco and Laia’s father pored over the footage and images online until deep into the night, and by the end they had positively identified the true identity of “Mandok”, the bald caner. They had his name, his occupation and contact details. There was just one more cultist to identify.

*

“Now, we’re going to have an extra guest at dinner tonight. Elia’s invited a friend over,” Carolina announced. Paco nodded, absent-mindedly. His mind was on his throbbing caned bottom on the hard surface of the dining room chair.

Jordina looked down sadly. Biel looked over at his sister Elia, who blushed a little.

“And where did you meet this…friend?” he asked teasingly.

“At the museum. Hey, did you know, Tarragona has a saint, a Christian martyr? He was crucified and burned alive in the Amphitheatre?”

“Really?” Carolina said. An idea had popped into her head.

*

Counting the one Jordina was picturing as she masturbated, there were four hard cocks in the flat that night.

Paco was jerking off and thinking of Laia, thinking of her with a cane in her hand, a schoolmarm taking control of her father-in-law. In his mind’s eye, she was wearing a white shirt. Her red hair fell about the collar, and it was tied into a crop top, exposing her belly and her buttonhole navel.

“Bend over!”

She caned him well, then climbed onto the desk, spread her legs, and offered herself to him. Paco jerked hard, desperately trying to distract himself from the sounds coming from his daughter Elia’s bedroom.

Biel had fantasized about his sister before, as told earlier in this series. He had succeeded in evicting his incest fantasy about Elia since bedding Laia, but hearing Elia making love in the next room brought the idea flooding back. And now he knew the sounds she made when being fucked, it was worse than ever. Before, he’d just pictured her in a bikini, posing temptingly. But now, Biel was imagining his sister naked below the waist, riding his cock, and coming, making the exact same squeals and groans that he could hear. Biel jerked his penis furiously, and he pictured her riding him. She was wearing only a black t-shirt. He knew she shouldn’t remove it. He knew his sister shouldn’t undress before him, but he was desperate to get it off her and, at last, she reached down and pulled the t-shirt up, and there were her breasts, as soft and tempting as they’d been in her bikini that day at the water park…

The third erection belonged to one Dr. Sanchez, and he was making good use of it inside Elia Lopez. He liked that she cried out during sex. He liked that her parents and brother knew that she was taking his cock. It made him feel powerful. The sensation was similar, in fact, to the flash of power he’d felt when he’d seen Laia naked and tied to the stake in the seminary. It was akin, also, to the surge of power when he’d entered their apartment and been ‘introduced’ to Biel and Jordina, who he recognized at once from the same incident.

 It was lucky for him he had not attended the prayer meeting Paco had filmed.

It wasn’t hearing her sister having sex that prompted Jordina to masturbate that night. No, she’d met a guy she liked at the beach called Jan. For the first time since the cult incident, Jordina went to bed happy and hopeful. Hopeful she’d see Jan again the next day. Hopeful he’d take off more than his shirt next time. Hopeful he would soon be her first.

There are two more to come on this series, in which we’ll learn if Jordina manages to pop her cherry and if the cultists get their just desserts. Thanks for reading my stories!