At the end of the service there was the tea and coffee gathering which is almost de rigueur these days. The coffee is usually pretty dreadful, and this was if anything slightly better than usual. Dora had tea. Several people spoke to us and just before I was going to suggest leaving, the motherly type, who introduced herself to me as Missus Vanessa Morgan, invited us to have lunch with her and it was clearly going to be difficult to decline – so we didn’t.It was very traditional and very good – roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, carrots, cabbage and gravy – cooked by her husband. He explained, after introducing himself with “Call me Will,” that he and his wife alternated cooking when it was a morning service. “Of course,” he went on, “Nessa has her role as a counsellor, so we’re not really interchangeable.”“She helped me a lot this morning,” Dora stated with a smile.“I’m glad,” he returned.We left mid afternoon, and when Dora went ahead, Missus Morgan touched my arm to. They stood back and looked at their prize, laughing quietly to themselves. The one with the knife moved closer and then placed the blade into the neckline of her dress. With a sharp movement he sliced through the material and ripped the dress away with his free hand. She stood there in black thong knickers, her small but beautifully formed breasts naked to the hot night air. She tried to struggle free but the other man slapped her across the face with the back of his hand. She slumped forward only to be put back into her standing position by the knifeman as his mate began to remove his clothing.His leather jacket fell to the floor followed closely by his jeans, tee shirt and trainers, he was wearing no underwear and his cock was partially erect. I knew that Jane was trying to scream but the gag prevented her, she had realised that struggling was useless, she either got hit or got nowhere against the bindings.He moved in front of her and pushed his hand between her legs, she jerked.
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