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| Vestal Whore | Back to M | Back to main page |
Collected by Djian
updated jan 16 - 2009
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| Vestal Whore | Back to M | Back to main page |
Collected by Djian
updated jan 16 - 2009
The silly girl has always dreamed of becoming a lawyer and as such has previously been a quiet but excellent student. After her father is off to a remote & dangerous part of the country, the virgin girl gets raped, and soon finds out that the more abuse & humiliation that is heaped upon her, the hotter & hornier she gets, and soon becomes a big pain slut taking on all comers allowing her tormentors to do the most perverse and painful things to her, not to mention all the gang bangs that she goes through.
This is an original work of adult literature. If you are under
18 years of age, read no further. If you are a pious
self-righteous adult burdened by a repressive religious
upbringing and sexual hang-ups too numerous to count, then you
too should pass.
This work may be copied for personal use and enjoyment, ONLY.
Reposting on any pay sites is forbidden without the expressed
permission of the Author at: toryu88@hotmail.com
It is a work of fiction. The seed of the story came from
BlackDemon's "Church" series, which landed in my fertile mind
and grew like a weed as I added more details and embellishments.
This work contains f_M+, Domination, Con/NC sex, slavery,
prostitution, beast, bondage, interracial, masochism, sadism,
breast torture, piercing, large breasts, and whatever else comes
to mind.
Feel free to offer comments and suggestions at the above email.
Vestal Whore: Communion of Degradation
Chapter 1
The flies maintained a droning buzz amid the stifling heat. The
mulatto priest stared down the tracks as he heard the the old
steam engine in the distance. The Padre Pietro, spiritual leader
of a small village to the south, had come to Robore to meet the
train. He used a pudgy black hand to wipe at the beads of sweat
that seemed to run in a steady stream from his scalp across his
jowls and disappeared into his cassock beneath his grimy clerical
collar.
The heat, the flies, the stink. He sighed, one never got use to
it. One only wallowed it in, resigned to the fact that it was
their lot in life. The dusty blackness of his garb clung to his
large belly and only added to his discomfort, seeming to soak up
the heat and humidity. His cloths seemed to have been designed
with penance in mind, to inflict a daily suffering.
As he wiped his forehead his chunky arms drew the sleeve of his
cassock taunt. He looked around as the peasants rose from there
idleness in the hopes that they could sell something to those on
the train as it made a brief pause on its way to Corumba across
the boarder in Brazil. Brazil, home, or it was once. He moved
to this area of Bolivia to best serve his god and to avoid past
unpleasantness. At 54, he now shepherded the illiterate and
impoverished members of of the village. A mixture of indians of
the Chaco, some japanese, a few european and mennonites and
Andean indians, failures all. The Chaco is not kind to settlers.
Mostly broken and destitute, their homesteads abandoned, they
cling to life in the village called Resorte del Diablo, Devil's
Spring, site of the only water for miles around during the dry
months, an island in a fetid swamp during the wet season.
The shrill whistle brought him back to the task at hand. The
gringo lay missionaries from the Stados Unidos. The church does
its works by any means, he thought. He was sent to meet a
Baptist missionary and his family. Lead them to his village and
assist them with whatever they needed. So be it. He rose,
lifting his sweating hulk, and shuffled toward the platform as
the passenger cars screeched to a stop. Shielding his eyes from
the dust and he height enabled him to look over the heads of the
peasants. His nose wrinkled at the dust and the fetid stink of
humanity that rose around him.
He saw the white gringo as he stood in the car's doorway
clutching a bag. Father Pietro waved getting his attention. And
began to wade through the small crowd toward the man. He watched
as the man, turned to speak to someone behind him. He then
turned with a smile as Padre Pietro halted in from to him.
The man presumptuously handed him several bags and leapt from the
steps and turned to help a young woman down. The woman clad in
shorts and shirt jumped from the train steps, her hiking boots
landing heavily on the rotting wood. As she landed the plump
heavy bags of her breasts bounced and giggled sloshing within the
confines of her shirt.
With a belch of steam the train began to pull away. The trio
stepped away from the train carrying their bags, the young woman
walking quietly beside them. Reaching a corner of the platform
Padre Pietro set his load of bags aside.
"Buenos Tardes", Padre Pietro said in his Portuguese tinted
Spanish.
"Steve Falwell, glad to meet you", the man said as he extended
his hand. "This is my daughter Rachel. She'll be attending
Purdue in the fall for pre-law," he said smugly.
The beautiful teen raised her blue eyes to Father Pietro's face
as she offered her small hand. Padre Pietro clasped her hand in
his, her small white fingers in stark contrast to the black skin
of his pudgy hand.
"Hi, My name is Rachel Falwell," the gorgeous girl said.
A faint haughty smile flitted across Rachel's lips, her big blue
eyes taking in the nappy grizzled salt and pepper hair, the dark
eyes, surrounded by the lined face. The Priest's broad nose, and
high cheeks betrayed his mixed blood ancestry. "A mulatto", she
thought with not a little distaste. Rachel knew he had probably
decended from a union of african slaves and brazilian indians.
Her skin crawled as she saw the grimy sweat stained clerical
collar buried amid the old Padre's double chin. She forgot her
own discomfort in the heat as she observed the dark sweat stains
marking his cassock beneath the fat man's arms and around his
large belly.
Padre Pietro returned the smile, his eyes taking in the beauty of
the teenager. Even the remaining indios on the platform were
staring at the young woman. Her large blue eyes held his for a
moment then looked away as if the eye contact was somehow
repugnant. Her light blond hair was pulled back away from her
high clear forehead and captured by a tie revealing the small
pale shells of her ears. The old Padre noticed that the heat had
brought a flush to her high cheeks that was visible under the
slight tan that highlighted the upper surfaces of her face. Her
delicate nose had a sprinkling of freckles. He studied the
perfect face, the startling blue eyes separated by the petite
upturned nose, wide mouth framed by the plump lips; the perfect
white teeth above the small delicate chin and the clear, flawless
skin of her cheeks. This sculpture of perfection was balanced
upon a smooth neck, supported on wide athletic shoulders.
"Where to next", a voice said. The old Padre turned to face the
man.
"A few of the men from the village are here with their mules, we
load your bags and can be on our way. It is a day's ride. If we
leave now we can be to Resorte del Diablo just after dark. The
women of the village were preparing your hut.
The loading of the mules took only a few minutes. Padre Pietro
observed his guests as he rested his sweating girth in the shade.
The beautiful young woman stood about 5'7" and weighed about 125
lbs he guessed. She stood watching her father supervise the
loading. The Padre for the first time noticed the woman's
breasts, Madre de Dios! The huge mounds seemed out of proportion
for the trim figure they crowned. Their heaviness was evident in
the tautness of the shirt fabric that sought to restrain them.
Little did he know that they were cause of the premature end of
her gymnastics career. When she was 11 years old her small buds
had burst forth beginning the growth to the firm heavy orbs now
before him. Their rapid growth spelled an end to her days of
competition on the balance beam and tumbling mat.
Down from her graceful neck was a plain of lightly tanned flesh
that sloped outward to form the majesty of her bosom. The Padre
could tell from how her breasts hung low that the large bags of
flesh were beginning to feel their own weight, but it would be
years before she had the stooped posture and sagging breasts of
an old woman. The teenager's long narrow torso seem nonexistent
beneath the shelf of her breasts. The slight flair of her slim
hips curved round to the prominent globes of her muscular
buttocks. Her muscular thighs and calves were clearly visible
beneath her shorts. Over the last 5 years she had grown over a
foot in height, her long legs now lithe, muscular and firm. She
was a picture of trim athleticism mixed with excess sexual
endowment.
"Perfectiones de Dios", he thought to himself the young woman's
mother must have been a beauty with good genes.
Her father was typical gringo he thought, light haired and
skinned, medium build with sandy brown hair. In his early
forties the Padre thought. A handsome enough man, but not
remarkable. Obviously the teenager owed her mother much.
The sweat stained tee shirt beneath her blue shirt barely held
her large breasts in check. The dark crescents of sweat marked
the undersides. Even in the stifling heat, the impression or her
long thick nipples were visible through the double thickness of
cloth. The taunt roundness of her firm buttocks was obvious
beneath her the shorts hugging her hips. The swell of her
hamstrings clearly announced her athleticism to the world. The
khaki shorts were sweat stained dark at the top of the crevass
that divided the proud cheeks of her bottom. Her broad shoulders
filled her shirt, ending in long supple muscular arms. The
beautiful teenage girl was the picture or perfection.
The father sighed, "Madre de Dios, to be 20 once again." Then
the sharp pain of long suppressed memories lanced into him as
they welled up like pus from a ruptured cyst.
A similarly graced dark haired senorita whom he loved confronting
him in her nudity, the sneer on her lips as she reminded him he
was mulatto. That she wanted "un hombre magn fico", not "el
esclavo indio negro", a black indian slave, the words still
burned him. He had turned and ran, ran to the church, ran to
forget, leaving his manhood and pride behind.
The old Padre looked at the man's back as the rode along the
overgrown track. The mules rhythmic plodding tempting him with
sleep. Only the heat and the man's incessant talking about his
relationship with god kept him awake.
Steve Falwell obviously felt he held a rather exalted position in
god's plans, the Padre thought to himself. Well if he was
wanting to save the world for god's greater glory, he would
surely assist him. One thing the good Padre had learned over the
years, god helps those that help themselves, he protects those
that keep themselves out of harm's way.
If he wanted to save those that truly needed saving. He would
send him to the village, Refugio del Muerto to the north. The
village had been beset by rebel guerillas as it sat near a
potentially valuable iron ore deposit along the border.
Chapter 2
The next days were spent settling his new guests into their
quarters and introducing them to the villagers. Dinners were
spent discussing future plans, and evenings passed writing
letters.
Rachel Falwell cursed her father under her breath as she she
watched the fat priest stuff another fork full of boiled yucca
root into his mouth. The sight of the man repulsed him. It
wasn't that she disliked blacks or Hispanics for that matter,
after all she cheered the almost all black football and
predominately Hispanic baseball teams on to victory as a member
of her high school's cheer leading squad. She even spoke to the
boys on occasion. Hadn't she mingled with them and even
tolerated their futile advances at post game parties? Rachel
came from a different world. A perfect world, until several
months ago when it had crumbled. Her mother had left
unexpectedly with no explanation, and her father had announced
they were coming here for the summer. Rachel still didn't
understand why, she only knew she was thousands of miles away
from her friends and all she knew and was thrust into a world of
filth and brown skinned foreigners.
Steve Falwell in his early forties was a pious man bent on
winning a place in heaven. Since his wife had forsaken the path
of god and had become a fornicatrice, he had been determined to
save both himself and his daughter from the taint of his wife's
sinful ways. His heart still seethed with self righteous rage at
the adulterous scene he had witnessed not too long ago.
Coming home early from a bible study session, he found his wife
bent slavishly over another man. The man's engorged cock
obscenely stretching her red lips as his hips rose rhythmically
from the bed feeding her the vein wrapped length of flesh. He
had stood transfixed in the doorway of their bedroom, unable to
move or speak. He stood there long minutes watching through tear
blurred eyes, ears ringing with the grunts and slurps, the wet
smacking sounds coming from his wife's throat as she swallowed
the man's long thick cock. Sounds that made her sound like a
lowly whore. He saw the thick cum oozing in a miniature river
from between the swollen lips of her sex, dribbling down the
columns of her thighs. So lost in his private hell, he failed to
hear the cursed grunts powering stiff jets of cum into the back
of his wife's spasming throat. He saw everything, the beads of
perspiration that dotted the small of her back as she labored,
the muscles of her back as they flexed, the perfect downward
hanging breasts as they bobbed, the flushed mottling of her skin,
the surge of her body as she pushed down to capture the entire
length of his erupting cock in her throat attempting to make it
good for her lover as he spewed gob after gob of his rich load
into her throat. It was only when she raised her head licking
the thick white leavings from her hands and chin that she noticed
him. Looking him straight in the eye, she lowered her lips to
give the purple head of the strangers cock a wet lingering
kiss....
He pushed the memories back into the shadows of his mind. The
forced himself to dwell on the love of Jesus. Let it blossom and
fill him mind like some earthly narcotic. He sat for a moment
his nerves tingling with his lord's divine presence.
Yes, he would go to the village to the north there he could
proselytize the villagers, the rebels, bring them into god's
fold. He would not be interfered with by some broken down priest
and his medieval beliefs. He owed no allegiance to a pope, only
to the personal god he carried within his heart. He resolved to
leave in the morning.
Chapter 3
Rachel's eyes were still blurry with tears as the beautiful teen
watched her father's back disappear around the bend in the dirt
trail. Composing herself, she thought of what she would do next.
Her father had decided it was best that she stay here for the
time being rather than face the uncertainty of the village to the
north. He said he would send for her.
In the meantime she was to help Padre Pietro minister to the
villagers, and help as he saw fit. She would have her own room
in the church annex and the run of the village. She turned and
walked back down the dusty road toward the old stone church.
Having spent the last few days learning her way around the
village, she knew there were more people than there appeared.
Brushing a pale hand past her face to dispel the ever present
flies she glanced down the alley that led to the open barn that
housed the cockfighting pit. As there had been on her visit with
the Padre she could see a number of men lounging in the sparse
shadows to escape the building heat. The Padre had said they
occasionally fought dogs there too. She shivered at the thought
despite the intense morning heat, feeling her large nipples
harden and lengthen into the long thick fingers that caused her
so much embarrassment. Her short walk had caused sweat to soak
her white blouse, making it fit her upper torso like a glove her
large heavy breasts joggling within her bra with each step. She
knew by the way they felt and from experience that soon her
puckered aureoles and long rigid nipples would be clearly visible
through the sweat soaked fabric despite the bra beneath. She
quickened her pace causing the fleshy bags on her chest to wobble
and swing from side to side even more, their liquid weight
rippling within the confines of her custom bra.
Half way to the church she passed the open fronted building which
sided the river serving as a communal laundry. The wizen old man
standing beneath the awning watched as she walked by. She
attempted to ignore the lingering stares of the old oriental man.
She felt his eyes roam over her like slithering tentacles. She
heard the sing song dialect as he called out to someone and soon
his eyes were joined by those of hulking figure of his son. The
Padre had said the son was slow witted. Neither said a word as
she walked past, but she feel their eyes worming over her probing
every curve and crevass. The thin wet cotton of her blouse was
clinging to the large firm cones of her breasts. The dark
ruddiness of her aureoles were clearly visible beneath the fabric
as her inch long nipples tented the saturated fabric. Her long
thick nipples in all their knobby beauty looked like reddish pink
rasberries. A blind man could have read the prominent Braille
written by her thoughts across the surface of her puckered
aureoles. Suddenly Rachel realized the throbbing in her swelling
breasts was being matched by a tingling between her legs. The
forbidden realization that the roaming hungering eyes of the men
excited her sent a gushing tingle through her vagina. Her face
colored as she felt her labia become slick from the excitement of
such shameful thoughts. What would her father say if he knew she
had felt nothing but repulsion at the hint of what those men were
thinking. She started to pray beneath her breath fighting back
her evil and shameful thoughts.
Another gushing tingle ran through her as her mind swam at what
they might be thinking, what they might want to do to her. It
was only after reaching the church standing in the quiet of the
dark stifling entryway, that the realization of what she had seen
entered her mind. She licked her lips as her breath came in
short gasps. Her mind flitted guiltily around the edges of the
thought as if it was too obscene to touch, to contemplate.
Finally her mind embraced it, the thought blossomed and she
accepted what she had seen in the loose pantaloons of the two
men. Her vagina flooded and wet the downy curls covering her
labia, as she remembered the bulging pantaloons of the men as
their cocks had hardened at the sight of her lascivious but
unintentional display".
Her mind was a tangle of confused thoughts which she couldn't
sort out due to the pulsing distraction in her groin and the
burning tips of her breasts. Confused and disgusted, she
eventually found room in the church annex and locked herself
behind the sturdy wooden door. Huddled in the corner of her room
she struggled with her feelings, how the gaze of the men repulsed
and thrilled her, how she was disgusted with herself, but craved
the new feelings coursing through her young body.
In anger and disgust she tore off her shorts to get at the
maddening center of her distraction. In anger she grabbed the
swollen throbbing nub of her clitoris and gave it a violent
pinch, forcing a moan to escape from her lips as she increased
the pressure between her thumb and finger.
Several hours later the old Padre knocked at her door to say good
night. A muffled response all he got in return, but he was
satisfied the teenager was safely behind a locked door. He took
his candle and waddled to his room at the other side of the
annex. "A Protestant gringo bitch", he thought, "Too good to
even open the door." Pushing his more prurient thoughts to the
the darker corners of his mind. He thought of how he could put
the young woman in her place.
The beautiful teen sat on her haunches on the bed, back pressed
against the corner of the wall. The flicker of the light on the
wooden night stand offered up a dim illumination in the room.
The light of the candle was caught in drool running down her chin
from her protruding tongue and was mirrored in the wetness on her
fingers. Her eyes were blind to the light, screwed up tight,
head lolled back, her face creased in dreamy concentration. The
room was silent except for the wet sticky sounds coming from the
fingers ravaging her vagina. The fingers of her other hand
worried at the inch long scarlet nub that was her clitoris. Its
sheath pulled back from its blood engorged length, nearly the
size of a cigarette filter. She shuddered, her fingers plucking
and rubbing the turgid cluster of nerves. A patina of fluid
coated her inner thighs, her hands were a mess of rich musky
juice. The room smelled heavy of musk. A glimmering ribbon of
liquid coalesced at the bottom of her crotch and dripped into the
spreading wet spot beneath her quivering bottom. The movement of
her fingers increased their tempo, her body pressed tighter
against the wall as she stiffened, a low moaning wail dribbled
from her parted lips climaxing in a choking prolonged shudder.
Rachel opened her eyes, moved them furtively around the room, and
closed them again and relaxed. Her breath caught, in her throat
as the lewd and disgusting thoughts once again spewed through her
mind like the stink of some sewer run amok, the thoughts and
their vileness pushed all before them. She licked her parted
lips as her wet fingers once more began the now familiar private
probing....
Chapter 4
An early morning haze hung in the air that smelled of cooking
food and the acrid smoke of cooking fires. A parrot squawked
from its perch in the tree. A green tree sloth moved in slow
motion as it followed the progress of the two pedestrians as they
walked thought the twin doors of the church. The church fronted
the square, dating back to the first Jesuits in the area. It was
a formidable structure, its thick mud brick walls laid out along
traditional lines of a naive and transect representing the holy
cross and built lying east to west. Better to catch the early
light of morning through the church's stained glass. The glass
was now covered with dust and many panes were cracked or missing.
Rachel walked quietly behind the Padre as they crossed the town
square and made their way toward the communal laundry. The
square was empty now. It would be busy soon enough as it was
every day in the morning and evenings, the coolest parts of the
day. Rachel glanced back at the church and thought of last
night, and a wave of guilty hunger washed over her as she thought
of how she had explored, tormented and pleased herself in the
darkness of her room remembering the hungry stares of the two
oriental men.
When the fat old Padre had told her she would be helping in the
communal laundry, her mind filled with indignation, but her
stomach pulled tight as she felt her vagina throb in a mixture of
excitement and dread at the prospect of meeting the two men whose
mere gaze had driven her to do things to herself that she knew
were sinful and disgusting. How many times had she touched
herself? Four, no five times? Her vagina felt swollen, its
fulness pressed tightly against the crotch seam of her shorts.
The very motion of walking was a confusing mixture or pain and
pleasure. The friction and her thoughts brought a slow ooze of
wetness along the lips of her vagina.
She walked as the condemned walks to the gibbet. Within her ripe
body she felt the near certainty that something within her was on
the verge of dying. The slow death of the fetters of pious
hypocrisy had begun by her own hand last night. She saw the
first glimpse of the pleasures that might await if she was freed
of the restraints of archaic moral superstitions. A part of her
secretly welcomed it. She knew the two filthy oriental men would
be the executioners.
The heat of the square seemed to lift a bit as they neared the
river and the laundry. The fat Padre ducked as he stepped under
the thatched roof of the porch that served as the counter area.
He peered into the gloom of the back of the hut that projected
over the river bank supported by pilings.
"Hatori, are you here?, his voice boomed out? "Hei", came the
reply from somewhere back in the gloom.
Rachel heard the scrape of wood on wood as a shoji like door slid
back revealing what looked like a storeroom off the the left. An
immense dark shape trundled out of the shadows ahead of a frail
and wizen looking man. A black mastiff-dane mix shoved his nose
up at the Padre in recognition as the old owner announced his
arrival with a wracking cough hawking up a robust wad of phlegm
which he spit into a dirty cloth hanging from a rope tied to his
waist. Rachel shuddered not knowing if it was from the
disgusting display, or the penetrating stare of the man as he
addressed the Padre.
"Konichi wa, Padre san", he said in a low screech, a hint of
spittle glistening on his unshaven chin. "This must be the the
new helper you promised". Speaking of her as if she was a new
utensil.
"This is Rachel Falwell, she is here to assist in the lord's work
with the villagers", the padre said.
Rachel a full head taller than the old man. He wore loose
fitting peasants garb, stained and dirty with an occasional rent
and tear. His longish hair was pulled back and confined in a
greasy knot at the back of his head. A few whiskers grew from
his chin and upper lip. Two dark penetrating eyes stared out of
an otherwise featureless oriental face. His lips cracked into a
nearly toothless grin as Rachel hesitantly presented her pale
hand in greeting. The old man's penetrating gaze had never
lifted to Rachel's face but roamed her body as he stepped forward
and presented a hand that more resembled a scarred and arthritic
claw. She knew that she should feel revulsion at the touch of
the man's scabby hand and his violating stare. Her stomach was
turning, but it was a butterfly mixture of revulsion and nasty
anticipation.
She felt naked in front of him, felt as if her were peeling the
clothes from her one piece at a time, until she envisioned
herself naked in front of him. Not just naked, but soul naked,
helpless. Her body and mind laid bare.
She pulled her hand back but still he held it, his stare never
leaving her breasts. Could he sense the firestorm of emotions
consuming her mind she wondered? Her eyes darted to the Padre
for assistance, but he stood smiling seeming to enjoy her
distress. Hatori ran his thumb in a mockery of a caress across
the back of the girls hand. Much to the poor girls distress he
brought his phlegm flecked lips to the girls hand in a parody of
a kiss. This caused Rachel's oversized nipples to blossom in an
embarrassing display, as blood rushed to fill the rigid probes as
her aureoles contracted in sympathy with her leaking vagina.
Rachel wanted to die as her nipples expanded in full view of the
old man. His smile seemed to expand, his eyes rose to her face
as if to acknowledgment her lack of physical control.
Poor beautiful Rachel's mind was a confused welter of emotions,
the disgust she felt toward the old man was mirrored in the
contempt she had for how her own body betrayed itself at his
touch. This only seemed to cast fuel on the fire of her
unexplained lust. Her rational mind fought to rise above the
swirling flood, drowning in wave after wave of disgusting,
forbidden and sinful feelings. All the while her flesh reveled
in it, her over ripe body seemed to revel in the knowledge that a
lifetime of teachings were being violated and broken, but only in
her mind. She felt wave after wave of nasty pleasure course
through her hungry body as her swollen clit protruded between her
leaking labia like a fat tongue. Her oversized breasts swelling
with the contained heat pushing her distended nipples tighter
into the thin fabric revealing themselves to the old man even
more.
"Rachel is eager to get started doing whatever it is she can help
with", the voice of the Padre intoned.
Rachel blushed as she pulled her hand free and quickly stepped
back crossing her arms self- consciously across her chest. Her
clit still tingling maddeningly between her legs.
"Bueno, she can help Maria and Tahio in the washroom." Hattori
grunted, appearing somewhat disappointed. "She can begin now,
the work will last most of the day."
"Rachel", the old Padre said turning to her. "I will leave you
here with Hattori, he will introduce you to the others." "I will
be gone to another village today, but will return tonight."
With that he turned with an amused smile and started back to the
church.
Rachel stood transfixed, feeling lost and vunerable. To her
surprise the old man looked at the broad back of the padre as he
walked across the square, snorted and turned. He stopped and
cast a lingering glance in Rachel's direction.
"You come with me", he said with a grin, revealing the stained
remains of his teeth, the brown rotten stumps of several were the
hallmark of his smile. With that he walked back into the shadows
of the washhouse.
Chapter 5
The day was purgatory. The attractive teen had spent her time
bent over the wash and rinse tubs and carried wood to feed the
fire for heating the wash water. All the while she and Maria had
to fight off the unwelcome advances of Conquistador, the large
black mastiff mix. His cold wet nose seemed to be everywhere to
her embarrassment, but amusement of everyone else. While Maria
seemed moved at all by the dogs advances, Rachel burned with
shame at the thought that his interest was fueled by the musky
smell of the guilty secretions of her drooling vagina.
The old man had introduced her to his son, Tahio, he was her age
but a near retard of hulking proportions for an oriental
teenager. Taller than the Padre, but not as heavily built due to
his youth. The dumb slack jawed look of the teenager, was
accentuated by the drool that seemed to perpetually wet his chin.
Rachel felt profound sympathy for the boy, as he was worked like
a dog by his father. His barefoot hulking form shuffling about
from one task to another. Once in a gush of sympathy, the
thought had entered her mind in that under different
circumstances she....but she caught herself in disgust having to
turn away as the youth grinned at her, his tongue probing at a
string of green snot that cascaded from his left nostril.
My god, she thought, what has my father gotten me into.
Forgotten for an instant were the noble and charitable reasons
for her being here. She lost herself in a torrent of self pity.
Broken down under the heat and filth of the day, she suddenly
fought back tears. The memory to her carnal display and the
betrayal by her body was fresh in her mind.
"Our father who art in heaven...." she prayed under her breath,
trying to fight back the rush of pity, disgust, and filthy
thoughts that fought for her attention. The buzz of her clit and
the continuous burning in her breasts and nipples was fought back
when she pinched herself fiercely on the inner thigh. She kept
from drowning in self pity by looking at Maria her workmate.
Maria was a mestizo, or Castilian indian mix. She was older than
Rachel in her early 20's and was very attractive. Her thick
black hair accented her flawless light brown skin and was worn
similarly to Rachel's, pulled back in defense of the pervasive
heat.
She was full breasted for an indian with large and dark aureoles
and nipples typical for her skin coloring. Rachel noticed that
she had what the men crudely referred to as "la colon grande",
the large ass typical of most indian women. The young woman
carried herself as if beaten down, standing in her dirty bare
feet, her true height obscured by the down trodden posture she
maintained. Rachel saw that she never lifted her eyes to the old
man and did as she was told. The girl wore the typical loose
fitting native garb; a rude calf length dress of loose weave
off-white cotton, held close at the waist by a rope or belt. The
front 3/4 of the dress held closed by wooden buttons.
Rachel had realized early that it was cooler and more practical
than the close fitting blouse and she wore. The old man had
given a similar dress to wear, which she had donned to replace
her ruined blouse and shorts which had become a filthy mixture of
powdered soap, soot and dirt. She found that the dress was not
so transparent when wet from her time at the wash tub. The two
young women did not talk, but only conversed as their tasks
demanded.
During the day Rachel caught glances several livid welts across
the top of her ample breasts and the glint of light on metal
before the young woman changed position or pulled her blouse
closed. Her movements were always accompanied by metallic
tinkling of what sounded like little bells.
As she bent over the wash basin arms in the water up to her
elbows, time seemed to pass as in fog of boredom and humidity.
As her thoughts wandered her peripheral vision caught movement
behind her. The dog, she told herself, and prepared for the
inevitable assault with a wet nose. Rachel froze as she felt the
hem of her dress lift and fleeting touch of something against her
inner thigh. Simultaneously she felt something push her in the
upper back causing her to have to catch the other side of the
wooden basin to keep her balance. Jerking her head to the left
and over her shoulder she was met by the leering grin of the old
man standing at her left hip. His left hand was firmly planted
in the middle of her upper back clenching a fist full of her
cotton dress. His right hand was busy beneath the lower hem of
her dress, his bony fingers worming like a blade between her firm
thighs. Rachel was too off balance to offer much resistance, her
upper body hanging over the water filled basin, her hands
clutching the far side, the near side cutting into her narrow
hips. Fighting to regain her balance she moved her feet, this
only allowed the old man greater access to her inviting crotch.
Rachel's mind reeled as she looked to the left in Maria's
direction only to see her disappearing into the rear of the shop.
Fighting the increasing pressure against her back, she felt the
old man's bonny fingers digging through the thin blonde curls
fringing her labia. The plump soft lips of her outer labia were
no match for the insistent probing. She looked to the right with
a frightened and questioning look only to to get a silently evil
grin that exposed the man's rotting teeth.
"You have been wanting this, senorita, hei?" he hissed, his
rancid breath assaulting her delicate nostrils. "You are wet
like del rio, how you say, like a river", he said with a laugh.
No response was necessary as his fingers slid easily into the
tight wet pit of her cunt, its dripping lips announcing her
guilty but wordless reply. Rachel wanted to die, the guilt of
her feelings burned into her chest, driving the breath from her
lungs, her mind a swirl of conflicting life long beliefs and
desires. Her mouth moved soundlessly like a waterless fish,
small hands clutching whitely at the basin side. Surrendering,
she closed her eyes as his fingers probed the fleshy end of her
cervix, his thumb strumming the rising nub of her clit! . The
beautiful teens body betrayed her as she felt her hips rock as
her trim ass raised as she slightly opened her thighs to allow
the stinking old man greater access to her, increasing her
masochistic shame. His dirty fingers were now exploring the wet
confines of her most secret parts, round and round they ran
teasing her cervix as it stood like a lonely obelisk. His thumb
mashed against the thick stub of the attractive teens engorged
clit. At the same instant she jerked as she felt something cold
against the back of her leg. In an instance she knew!
"Conquistador likes your wet little pussy too senorita", the old
man said with a cackle.
She looked around in time to see the large tongue of the animal
make a long swath through the oily liquid coating the old man's
hand and her crotch. Her heart raced as she felt a hardness
against her hip through the old man's filthy pantaloons. The
slut in her marveled at the size and hardness of his hidden
member which seemed to surge with each new indignity she
suffered. The prim voice in her shamed her, when she caught the
slut in her wondering what it looked like, and to her thrilling
disgust, what it might taste like....!
She tried to pray, to find a reason for her martyrdom, but she
found it too nasty, too horribly thrilling to concentrate on
virtuous thoughts. Seeming that god wasn't pleased with the
level of her degradation and humiliation, she felt hands on the
side of her face holding her firmly to the front. Opening her
big blue eyes she saw the imbicilic face of Tahio, the hulking
retard. As she whimpered he held her as he moved the stained
front of his pantaloons even with her face. As he shuffled
forward she saw the outline and caught glimpses of the log of his
cock through a tear in the fabric. Standing in front of her he
grasped her by her blond pony tail and thrust her face into his
groin.
The beautiful girl felt a surge of masochistic delight as her
nose brushed against the hardness of his rod through the rent in
the fabric. His bristly pubs scratched her nose and cheek, as
she caught her breath her delicate nostrils were assailed by the
stink and filth of his unwashed privates. A wave of goose flesh
rose across her back and arms at the delightful dirtiness of it,
the image of her mother and father flashed through her mind, if
only they could see me now a little voice cried out!
The attractive teen's soul burned as she felt her cunt contract
uncontrollably at the repulsive touch of the boys organ. She
knew the old man could feel her guilty response around his
dripping fingers. He knew her inner secret. In a mind searing
flash, Rachel realized what she had known secretly all along.
Her life as a prim and proper church going deb, was a sham. Just
as sure as the facade of her happy family had collapse amid a
storm of adultery and betrayal, the lie of her true nature was
being revealed by these filthy peasants. The lily white personae
she portrayed was as hollow as her empty begging cunt. Here she
stood, a depraved strangers hand probing her cunt, relishing the
feel of a strange cock against her face, her body betraying her,
responding with masochistic delight to the humiliating and
degrading treatment at the hands of strangers.
She knew now there was no god. There was no right and wrong, no
afterlife, only the here and now, only the cravings of the flesh,
only the inflamed and gnawing need between her legs. Her brain
the center of her intellect, seat of what she called her soul,
repository of her eternal salvation, had surrendered control of
her life to the half-inch long bundle of nerves of her clit. The
thick blood engorged little bishop, sang like a choir with each
touch of the old man's calloused thumb. Like a tiny alien
possessing her body, it now controlled her every craving. Red
and swollen from the incessant attention it coaxed her, with wave
after wave of guilty pleasure, deeper into the mire and filth of
her sexual depravity. Her mind was a willing accomplice as it
thrilled to the forbidden acts she willingly allowed others to
perform on her virginal body. Her skin burned with the guilt and
anticipation, the shame and pleasure of being used like a whore!
Now she needed no coaxing as she pushed her face into the boy's
stinking crotch, seeking out the hard tube of his cock. She
thrilled to the feel of it against her lips, her little pink
tongue thrusting out in desperate pursuit of just a taste of the
sinful object of her lust. The vile tool of rapine and
degradation of so many women through history, but holy enough to
be the instrument of god's covenant with the Jew's. Her mind
reeled, that was it, it would be the instrument of a new
covenant, between her and her new god, the god of her flesh. She
would sacrifice all to satiate her god and to please her. Her
life would be cocks, hard, swollen spurting cocks. It was her
destiny to service them to please her god, to make them hard and
swollen, to coax them to give up their rich hot creamy offering
to her god. She would please them every way she could, with her
tits, cunt, ass and mouth. Her life would be a long ride of
thrusting, rubbing, sucking and spurting cocks!
She felt her legs being swept apart by the old man's hips, as he
raised her dress. His hand gone, the cry of emptiness from her
stretched and drooling cunt was was about to be answered. The
boy pulled aside the buttonless fly of his pantaloons to free the
thick vein choked length of his cock. Rachel nuzzled the length
of it against her cheek, drawing back as the boy leveled it with
her mouth. He skinned back the delicate foreskin, revealing his
encrusted purple glans.
Chapter 6
Rachel stretched her slender neck forward like an infant bird,
yearning hungrily for the boy's cock, she pursed her lips,
wetting them, her tiny pink tongue leaving them gleaming with the
saliva that rose in deliberate anticipation. Behind her she felt
the old man's cock searching for her cunt through the sodden
curls of the matted hair lining the lips of her cunt......
The sound of a door latch in the dark startled the teenager as
she stood guiltily in the pool of light in the middle of the
room. She struggled to push the filthy fantasy from her mind, but
her hands continued their mechanical torment of her cunt and
clit. The oily juices flowing from her mixed with the soapy
water coating her glistening form. Her mind reeled, as she
remembered where and who she was. "Are you so lost?" her
rational mind cried out. "You are a good and holy woman!" it
said. "Reject the pleasures of the flesh!!" Rachel's only
response was a guilty groan, as the split fingers of one hand,
pulled back and exposed the swollen angry red nub of her clit to
the direct, tormenting attention of the fingers of her other hand.
Just as her fingers began to pinch the thick projecting fleshy
nub, a voice jolted her back to reality.
"Rachel, my child is that you?" the voice of the old padre said,
filling the room. His hulking form materialized at the edge of
the light, cast by the flickering candles on the tall stands near
the nude girl.
The Padre's late arrival at the washroom was to wash away the dust
of the road. He had seen the young woman bathing and had intended
to spare her the embarrassment of knowing of his intrusion.
Something rooted him to the spot. Like some obscene voyeur, his
mouth became dry, as he relished watching the perfectly formed
teenager bath. He watched as she had sponged every curve of her
flawless white skin. The firm muscles of her shoulders rippled
under smooth skin. He watched her sponge the muscular expanse of
her upper chest, and watched as the suds ran over the swelling curves
of her huge breasts. He had marveled at the heavy weight of her
breasts, as they stood high and proud, revealing only a hint of
sag on the downward curve, where they joined her lean ribcage.
Soap flowed down the deep cleavage, between the succulent orbs
that rippled and jiggled with her every movement. Beneath the
pale white skin, he could see a network of light blue veins
feeding her blood engorged nipples.
He wet his thick black lips, as the wet elongated nipples shown
like diamonds under the reflected candlelight. He watched them
lengthen, as her aureoles tightened from the cool wetness. His
gaze followed the stream of soapy water, as it ran from her
cleavage, down the long flat plane of her stomach and through
the sparse patch blonde curls that graced her mons. His eyes
widened, as the miniature river was divided by the large
protuberance of her clit, to finally drip from her downward
hanging labia, that projected like a fat pink tongue from her
hidden slit.
He stood frozen, as her gleaming thighs trembled while she
debased herself in selfish pleasure, abusing the nub of her clit
with greedy fingers. He felt a stirring beneath his cassock that
he had thought to be long dead. The young woman was perfection
incarnate, yet here she stood, debasing herself like a common
Puta. He felt a profound loss, and sympathy mixed with contempt
for the sluttish girl. "She has the world," he thought, "yet she
wants to play the whore."
Priestly thoughts overwhelmed the carnal desires he felt, "The
slut violates god's will in his very house!" he thought with
outrage.
He knew the girl must do penance, and the priest in him was enraged
at the long dormant feelings that she had resurrected in him.
"Surely the slut is a vessel of lust! Put on this earth to tempt
the holiest of men. Satan must be driven out of her!" he
thought, as he watched her continue to abuse the sensitive flesh
between her legs, like a needy whore.
Rachel was lost in lust, as she smiled at the old Padre, and
unashamedly fought for sexual release. Her fingers were a blur,
as she worried the stiff nub of reddened flesh.
Before she could move, the old Padre stepped forward, "Puta!" he
spat, as he sent her reeling, as his open hand crashed into her
cheek.
Chapter 7
Her lithe form landed on the wooden floor with a thud, lying in a
puddle of water and suds, across the dusty, dry floor. Rachel raised
herself up on her left hip, supporting herself with her left arm, as
she rubbed the red welt on her cheek with her other hand. Dust and
rotting wood stuck to the wet flesh of her flank and the curve of
her left breast.
Rachel smiled, licking her lip, tasting the saltiness from the
blood, and feeling how her lip was thickening from the blow. She
pushed herself erect, her breasts jiggling from the effort. She
crawled over to where the black clad figure towered over her.
"You have behaved like a common whore in the house of the lord,
my child. What have you to say about this sluttish wickedness
and abomination you you have performed in the sight of the
lord?" he intoned.
Without a word, the girl ran her palms along the outline of his
cock, visible through his cassock. She slowly snaked her small
hand through the opening between it's buttons, searching for what
she needed to find. Her small fingers marched like tiny Christian
soldiers, up the length of the old Padre's burgeoning erection.
She smiled up at him, as he stood as though rooted to the floor,
too shocked to react.
A groan escaped his lips, as the small rooting fingers explored,
found and cupped his heavy scrotum. Forgotten feelings surged
through him at the teenager's touch. His broad nostrils flared at
the overwhelming smell of musk that exuded from her, only feet away.
Her other hand impatiently fumbled, first with the buttons of his
cassock and then with the fly of his under garment.
Even in the dim light of the candle, the contrast of her pale
hands, on his large black rod was clearly visible. The
uncontrollable rise of saliva in her mouth, was matched by the
clenching in her guts, as her pussy welled up with hot musk. The
Padre stood rigid, suddenly raising his pudgy hands to the
heavens and clenching them into fists. As the girl continued her
vile ministrations.
Rachel knew now that her fantasy was not a dream, but a vision, a
vision of her destiny, her purpose. Lost in a maelstrom of lust
and need, she struggled to push such thoughts from her mind, and
grasp the old Rachel, the intelligent, independent Rachel, the one
one dedicated to self-denial, all in the name of a religious
mythology. Instead, the more she struggled within herself, the more
tangled she became in her religious fantasies. She now perceived
that she had no choice, that the loving god she for so long sought
to please, had charted and new course for her existence. She was
to please in a new realm. Not one of the spiritual realm, but the one
of the flesh. In an instant she saw things clearly, and was now freed
from the restraining burden of a lifetime of lies.
Rachel eagerly pulled The Padre's under garment down his thick
thighs. Her cheek rested against his sizable paunch, as her long,
stiff nipples brushed teasingly along in their wake. Kneeling,
her dripping bottom rested on her heels, she raised her small
hands, with a whimper of excitement, to lovingly cup the large
black sack of his testicles, that hung heavily beneath his large
gut. Her small hands could barely contain their hot fullness, as
she dipped her head to place a loving kiss on each of the plumb
sized orbs, with her forehead pushed tightly against the overhang
of his belly. Her cupped hands kneaded their precious cargo
tenderly, as she buried her nose and mouth in their wrinkled
softness. Rachel felt her guts contract, as she inhaled the
fragrance of the Padre's manhood, felt the churning of his balls
beneath her lips and fingers, and felt the coarseness of his nappy
pubes against her pale cheeks.
Overcome and blinded by lust, her tongue thrust out like a tiny
wet worm, to trace the heavy veins decorating his sperm heavy
scrotum, beneath their covering of tightly curled hair. She
lathed the firm orbs until they were lathered with her saliva,
her tongue paying homage to the offering they contained. The
offering that she would soon have jetting forth, in a warm
fountain from which she would drink, in a new kind of communion.
The Padre's body betrayed him, even as he cried out silently to
god, in a futile prayer. The years of self-denial, in the purgatory
of celibacy were melting away, as the young girl stoked the long
banked embers of lust in his loins. The blind rage he felt at
the girl was doused by wave after wave of long forgotten carnal
pleasure, as the girl made oral love to his churning balls.
Suddenly in an epiphany of faith driven delusion, it was clear to
him. Like the saved drowning man's surety of divine
intervention, the old Padre knew the reason for his tempting.
The girl was a vessel, a vessel into which he would pour his
lust, he would purify her, he would use her to cleanse others of
their lust. Why else would god send him a soulless whore in the
form of a perfect virginal woman. Such carnal perfection had
only one use. With the certainty born of zealotry, the old Padre
was freed of his guilt. He lowered his pudgy hands the girl's
blonde head as she dipped her head sideways to catch the thick
staff of his cock between her eager open lips.
Rachel trembled with anticipation as she brought her hand to the
stiff rod of black flesh and guided it to her mouth. Her hand
was slick with the saliva that coated his sperm sacks, and filled
her mouth to overflowing. She tenderly shucked his swelling cock
with her small white fingers to reveal the dark grayish purple
head. Her lust drugged mind reveled in the depravity of the
scene. A prim and proper white Protestant teenager, on
missionary with her pious father, groveling soul naked before a
fat mulatto priest making love to his cock with her swollen red
lips and pink little tongue. Her mind reeled as she visualized
the scene, her once flawless face bruised, lips swollen from the
abuse she knew she deserved, her cheeks distended, face
glistening with mingled secretions, her jaw distorted as she
tried to swallow the length of flesh. It was so awful, so
depraved, her heavily secreting pussy throbbed at the mental
image. She dug her upturned heels into her groin to satisfy the
need, the wet swollen flesh of her cunt flooded her feet with its
thick oily discharge.
The groveling girl marveled at the hardness of the old Padre's
cock as she held it in her hand. Her swollen lips leaked a moan
that was a mixture of need and anticipation as she brought the
throbbing black cudgel to her wet lips. She pulled the glossy
swollen head to her lips in a soulful kiss, paying homage to the
offering the laid before her god. In a scene that was
deliberate, almost ritualistic, she kissed the length of the
fleshy rod, tracing each pencil thick vein with her delicate pink
tongue. She felt it surge under her ministrations. Bringing the
plum sized knob to her lips she lathed her tongue around its
girth and played it into the cleft beneath its wordless mouth,
pursing her lips she gently kissed the head, and with a purr
engulfed it with her watering mouth.
A moaning growl escaped the fat old man as the head of his cock
was encased in the wet warmth of the young white girl's mouth.
His balls churned as he felt the girl's tongue swirl around the
sensitive head, playing and dipping in to the precum leaking slit
as if plumbing for its rich liquid treasure, coaxing it to
fountain forth. His head swimming, legs trembling the Padre
staggered back and collapsed into a heavy framed wooden chair.
The eager girl never released the vacuum of her young mouth
around the old Padre's cock, scuttling after him on all fours,
heavy swollen tits swaying beneath her like a nursing calf
reluctant to give up it's mother's teat.
Chapter 8
The old Padre reclined in the chair and could finally see the
entire portrait of the young lust driven slut. In the dim light
of the candle her body still gleamed under the sheen of bath
water water and sweat. The curves of her athletic and lush
figure were highlighted. The sight made his loins burn, his
throbbing cock threatening to burst as his lust heated blood
pumped into the black rod trapped between the young girls
hollowed cheeks. The old man watched the impassioned face of the
young white woman, her flaxen fair plastered to her high clear
forehead with sweat and hanging in matted strands about her
shoulders. Her pale blue eyes were unseeing, clouded with lust,
tears of rapture glistening at her lashes, as a patina of sweat
formed on the upper surface of her cheeks. Her delicate nostrils
flared as she struggled for breath due to the fleshy invader
distorting her beautiful features as it her oral cavity. Her
fine chin glistened under a virtual river of spit as her mouth
filled to overflowing as she bent to her delicious task. Her
long neck worked with the exertions of her sucking as her flushed
cheeks hollowed and hollowed again as if she struggled to get
sustenance from his fleshy rod. She relinquished her loving oral
embrace only long enough to caress his length with her delicate
pick tongue and to swallow the cherished mixture of saliva and
seminal emissions that clogged her mouth to overflowing. He saw
that her pale blue eyes were unseeing, clouded with lust, tears
of rapture glistening at her lashes, as a patina of sweat formed
on the upper surface of her cheeks. Her delicate nostrils flared
as she struggled for breath through her lust and around the
fleshy invader whose girth distorted her beautiful face as it
plugged her oral cavity.
The last threads of self respect and decency in Rachel's mind
screamed with outrage as she hungrily suckled at the black rod.
Her blue eyes beheld the man that was in this moment her master,
the focus of her existence. She barely saw beyond the rod of
flesh that held her spellbound to see the spayed cassock exposing
the sprawled flabby charcoal thighs with their scabby covering of
tightly curled black hair; the distended fat abdomen mapped with
dark stretch marks rising like the black belly of a whale from
just above his groin and the leering pig eyes staring from above
the wide flat nose. Independent intellect fought a losing battle
with primordial need as reason and pride slipped away as she
slavishly groveled before the black staff. The studied
intelligent girl within her, cried as it died poisoned by the
corrupting bile of lust that reduced her to a creature controlled
by a throbbing nub of needy nerves bathed in sexual secretions.
Surrendering, she wedged herself further into the cleft formed by
the old Padre's flabby thighs, rubbing her hard nippled breasts
against him in a desperate effort to increase his pleasure.
Above her the dark eyes of the old Padre stared from his black
face sitting pumpkin like, supported by the fat rolls of his
neck. He witnessed the obscene sight before him as the once
proper young white woman groveling before him. His thick tongue
darted from his corpulent face to licking his fat lips in
pleasure. Rachel She searched his panting face for some shred of
approval as she debased herself for his pleasure.
"Suck it, filthy whore, suck the sinful lust from me, make me a
pure instrument to do god's work," the old Padre wheezed in near
delirium.
Rachel flinched under the sudden verbal onslaught. The words
raising goose flesh of pleasure along the curve of her arched
back, disturbing the beads of sweat that dotted the flawless
skin. She found solace in the obscene words as they confirmed
the revelation she had had about herself. She knew now that it
was true. She smiled as she raised the black rod, running her
pink tongue along the length of the underside, pausing at
intervals along it's length to plant loving kisses, then
swallowed the length of it in in masochistic delight. The raised
spear of flesh lanced into the back of her throat as she forced
her mouth down it's entire length, her forehead glued to the
underside of his bloated belly, she push with a force born of
need and self hatred.
"My god, help me, what have I become," her rational mind
desperately cried out only to be doused by a gush of obscene
pleasure at the Padre continued his verbal abuse. Her breath
coming in snorts from her nose as she sought to breath around the
plug of flesh imbedded in her throat.
"Yes-s-s-s, take back the sinful lust that you have awakened
slut," the Padre said with a groan as Rachel's lips met the
prickly cushion of his spit matted pubic hair.
"Lance the abscess on my soul that you have given rise to, take
from me the puss of sin into the wretched whorish vessel that god
has made of you."
Losing all control and self respect, with a grunt, the young
woman wiggled tighter between the old man's legs, pushing her
pillowy breasts against his scrotum as she forced her mouth
harder and harder onto the fleshy shaft. Tears formed in the
young girl's eyes tears of anguish at that part of her she could
not control, tears caused by the masochistic invasion of her
viginal and tears of delight as she wallowed swinishly in her
trough of sin.
"You are the embodiment of woman, the evil slut whore that has
since the Genesis has caused the downfall of man, take from me
the sin that you have wrought through the ages, and satisfy your
insatiable hunger!"
The old man's hands clenched at Rachel's head as his cock
ballooned in her throat. Rachel's throat was making the long
elevator ride up the fleshy tower when it erupted in a fountain
of thick rich sperm. The young girl could not stifle a cough as
the thick cream clogged her esophagus, spraying the mucus like
liquid from her nose and mouth spattering the skin of the old
man's belly and his cassock.
Lifting her sperm dripping lips from the glistening cock she
plunged at the spewing delight, ruby lips wide, tongue extended
in an effort to capture more of the yellowish cream fountaining
from the old man's balls, seed stored for over 30 years
fountained forth in gush after rich gush.
Rachel's right hand cradled the old man's heavy balls kneading
them in an effort to keep the spring flowing, her greedy tongue
flicking out capturing the flow, till finally her lips sealed the
runaway fountain and suckled at the tip greedily swallowing the
viscous life giving fluid.
The old man's hands fell to his sides as Rachel suckled on his
cock. Her hand busily kneaded his testicles in an effort to coax
more from the empty sacks. When she was satisfied that no more
was to be had from the softening tube of flesh, she busied
herself lapping the spilt cum from his belly and sucking the
dregs from his curly pubes.
The old Padre watched as the the young girl preened catlike as
she licked her fingers and hands in desperate attempt to find
every last drop of his delicious sperm. The wanton sight brought
a life back to his deflating cock as the depravity of the the
once pure teenager burned into his brain.
Rachel could think of nothing but the thick wonderful jism that
had spouted from the old man's cock. It was the wine and bread
of her new communion, she savored it, running the dregs she had
siphoned from his pubes and licked from his distended belly, over
her lips and tongue. Her corrupted soul hungered for the pungent
taste and smell of the viscous fluid, loved the way it made her
teeth and tongue feel as it coated them with it's sticky
sediment.
Chapter 9
Rachel's heart skipped a beat as she felt the flaccid cock
growing in her hand. Her needy eyes searched the Padre's face as
she kissed the growing cock in a superfluous gesture to encourage
its resurrection. The fear that this might be a tease, that the
Padre might be so cruel as to take from her this second delight
was more than the lost teenager could stand, so needy was the
throbbing between her supple thighs. The desire, the need, the
maddening throb, like a new addiction, overwhelmed Rachel, she
faltered, then the damn burst.
"Please, give it to me, please, please give me...cock!," the poor
teenager whispered as she bathed the black snout of the growing
member with her little pink tongue.
Without a word the old Padre unbuttoned the front of his cassock
to reveal the enormity of his belly and the twin peaks of his
drooping fat pectorals. The old man grasped the forearm of the
19 year old and pulled her to her feet.
Needing no encouragement, Rachel moved to mount the cock of the
old man. Rachel swung one long muscular leg over the old man's
waist like she was mounting a horse. She hunched herself up
against his large paunch gripping it with her thighs. She
supported herself with one arm on the back of the heavy wooden
chair as she fished between her spread buttocks for the hardened
black cudgel that she hungered for. As she leaned forward, the
massive ivory globes of her breasts hung under her like water
filled balloons, heavy and swollen. A small white hand found the
throbbing staff and slid if up and down the slick grove of her
swollen labia, finding and pressing the swollen black knob into
the yearning mouth of her cunt.
Their groans echoed one another as her flexing thighs pushed her
split buttocks downward toward his pelvis. The woman forced the
black ram slowly into her virgin guts, wiggling from side to side
in an attempt to widen the channel and ease entry of the black
invader. Her face knitted with concentration, Rachel licked at
her bottom lip, tongue extended like a greedy sow. She forced
more and more of the old man's cock into the unused channel of
flesh, splitting asunder her maiden head, tender flesh parting
before the ram of masculine muscle. Rachel reveled in a shower
of masochistic feelings as she forced the thick cock into her
tight wet cunt. The slow impossibly long ride down the old
Padre's cock ended when she felt her swollen labia prick against
the tight black curls around the root of his cock.
Rachel felt impossibly full as the old man's cock expanded in the
hot wet clasp of her cunt. She was sure they were forever joined
as she felt the pulsing of his cock beat in time with her own
labored breathing as she squatted bandy legged the expanse of his
large belly forcing her knees apart at an impossible angle. Her
knees and upper thighs rested astride the bloated abdomen of the
old man, their groins touching only where her labia suckled
around the base of his cock. Her large engorged clit being
divinely tormented by the abrasion of his aboriginal pubes. The
depraved teenager panted as she rested her cheek against the
sweating mound of the old man's belly, her insides churned as her
cunt pulsed and contracted around the fleshy alien invader. The
teenager's mind was lost amid the competing feelings and
cravings. The contractions of her own hungry cunt were answered
by the instinctual throbbing pulses from the old Padre's long
neglected crudgel.
Rachel's long thighs flexed, raising the nursing lips of her
labia from around his cock with an audible wet sound. Up and up
the clinging lips rode, swabbing his cock as in a lingering kiss,
her fleshy inner lips leaving his cock glistening as they drooled
in their silent hunger.
The young teenager halted her rise as she felt the bulbous head
nearing the mouth of her cunt. Pausing, her cunt clenching
uncontrollably, she dropped her hips down, lancing the fleshy
spear back to it's full depth. The masochistic act brought an
involuntary whimper from her as the bulbous head crashed against
the fleshy stump of her cervix.
The Padre moved only to capture a large hanging breast, directing
its impossibly hard swollen nipple to his fat lips. He was
content to watch the poor lost girl debase herself to please him
as she let her own demented cravings control her once rational
mind. The fat man rolled the teenager's finger thick nipple
between his lips, nipping and chewing on the thick protuberance.
Finally he captured the thick rough nub in the roll of his tongue
and nursing on it with cruel force that brought a whimper from
the lust crazed teen.
Rachel's thighs flexed again and again, as like some demented
engine she drove her pelvis up and down the rigid cock. Her
labia swabbing and lubing the staff in an obscene parody of a
cylinder and piston. The air was heavy with the stink of sex and
sweat, the sour smell of the old man mingled with the sweet musky
smell of young cunt as the two rutted like common animals. The
silence of the room was broken only by Rachel's sow like grunts
and whimpers as she struggled for release and an occasional
wheeze and snuffling snort as the old man labored under the girl.
The old Padre growled and grunted with appreciation as he gnawed
on the girl's cow like udders, his fat lips smacking with
appreciation at the taste of her virgin teats. His sharp teeth
occasionally brought a squeal or whimper from the preoccupied
teen as he worried first one tasty nipple, then the other,
causing the fat fleshy fingers to swell under his constant
sucking and chewing. Red marks and welts marred the vein mapped
surface of the girl's pale oversized tits from the old man's
merciless kneading and biting of the soft flesh.
"You the foulest whore in god's sight. Take this sinful offering
that you in your obscene depravity coax from me. Take upon
yourself as as Christ did, the sins of a holy priest, so that he
may better serve god," the Padre gurgled around the stiff nipple
that filled his mouth.
"Crack!," his free right hand came down upon the unprotected
flank of the laboring girl.
"Wallow in your depraved obscenity, lend yourself to purification
at my hand," he said punctuating it with another sharp blow
against her buttock and thigh.
"Yea-s-s-s-s!, " the soulless girl moaned under the merciless
hand.
"Know that your damnation will prepare others for entry into the
kingdom of heaven.," the old Padre grunted as he raised his
flaccid buttocks to bury his dripping cock in to the guts of the
eager grunting teen.
"Crack!" another in a storm of blows rained down on Rachel's
flanks as the old man railed at her as a godless whore, a pig a
slut, the lowest creation on god's earth, a vessel for lust spent
sperm, he chewed at the fleshy bags that pummeled his face as the
young woman struggled to satisfy the maddening hum in the fleshy
finger of her clit. The words of the old Padre rang like thunder
in the ears of the godforsaken girl, pushing her closer and
closer to the small death she sought. "
"She was vile, she was a whore, a slut...she had become, was
becoming everything her hypocritical parents had tried to
prevent." she thought as she labored slavishly over the old
man's cock. "And she loved it!!" she admitted to herself as her
heart cried over the lost innocence.
"I am a s-s-lut, a whore," she moaned. "Use
me......p-p-p-ule-e-eze!" she wailed in abject surrender to the
black rod of her new master. She finally knew who and what she
was. No longer would she be ashamed of her voluptuous and
prematurely ripe body. It was there for him, for anyone, to use,
so long as they filled her, and gave her hot steaming cum. "Oh,
god help me," her mind moaned.
Their entwined bodies looked like some grotesque animal in it's
death throes. The squelching of his bursting cock in her
drooling quim sounded the tempo of her symphony of lust. The
cramping in the girl's thighs was forgotten as she labored for
release. An exquisite tension was building as her shoulders
screamed with exertion. The old man's balls contracted suddenly,
pumping stream after stream of yellowish cum in an endless geyser
into the young woman's bruised cunt. The feel of the expanding
cock, it's pulsing contractions and the hot flood of cum sent the
girl reeling. Her pussy cramping in a string of mind bending
contractions. Her eyes lost sight in a blinding white light as
her nails cut furrows in the old man's fat chest. Her plump lips
grew tight as she gritted her teeth and veins stood out in her
neck. A crimson flush covered her bobbling chest as the old man
chewed at her nipples and flailed her flanks. In her greedy
quest for satisfaction she ground her groin against his scrubbing
her maddened clit against the woolly root of his cock. The
cramping in the girl's thighs was forgotten as she labored for
release. Rachel was filled with searing wave after wave of
obscene pleasure, her contracting cunt pumping out streamers of
her own cum mixed with that of the Mulatto priest, their leavings
forming a puddle beneath the old man's flaccid ass. A gurgling
moan escaped her swollen lips as her orgasm ran its undulating
course. Every fiber of her body was tuned to wring every
delicious second from her delicious delirium. The explosion of
obscene and depraved pleasure forever branded itself on young
Rachel's being. Never would her life be the same.
Rachel fell forward in exhaustion and shivered one last time as
the remnants of pleasure strummed her clit. She wallowed there
in a languid pool of depraved excess. Reveling in the obscene
memory of the moment, she formed a mental picture of her flawless
body sprawled across the nauseating fat form of the black priest.
Their lust spent, sweat mingling. She breathed in the stink of
the man and ran her delicate fingers through the sparse curls
that dotted his fat sunken chest. Rachel reveled in the thought
of what her righteous father would say if he could see her now.
Or her unfaithful mother. Her freshly stretched and abused pussy
throbbed at the wicked thought. She knew now that she would
never be the same. She was an addict, not to the needle, but to
the delicious high that a demanding cock could bring her. She
wallowed in the delight of being used submissively, of being
mastered by a stranger, any stranger, with a hard demanding cock.
Somewhere within her the old Rachel cried as her pussy throbbed
around the deflating black cock still filling her.
The Padre caught his breath and pushed the girl from him as if
she was suddenly repellent. Rachel fell to the sweat and cum
speckled floor, staring upward at his dark face. Her eyes were
drawn to the glistening black cock projecting through the half
open front of his cassock. Rising up to her knees the abused
form of the young woman she caught the dripping cock between her
swollen lips, licking their commingled juices from the rod with
rapacious delight.
The old priest suddenly grabbed the girl's matted hair in his
left hand.
"You are to be a whore for god my child, but you must be cleansed
of the lust you take unto yourself from others." He pulled her
face upward by the blonde tresses he clutched.
The pathetic young woman raised her face to his in desperation,
looking for something, even she did not know.
"It shall be my service to god to use this vessel of lust to do
god's will" he said raising his right hand to the heavens. He
then brought the hand down in a fist against Rachel's upturned
jaw sending her into an oblivion of darkness.
Chapter 10
The old Padre sweated as he tied the last knot. The old Jesuit
texts had been invaluable. The Jesuits new and understood, pain
and humiliation cleansed the soul. What better way to cleanse
the vessel of lust the young woman had become. The Padre tried
to ignore the stirring in his groin as he looked at the
unconscious young woman. She was on all fours, draped over a
stool. Leather straps were secured behind her knees with
buckles, the sections of old leather belts having been nailed to
the floor. Her hands were secured in a similar fashion. Her
head was hooded with an old black velvet bag from the sanctuary.
The front of the hood came down to the tip of her delicate nose
where it met the twin tined hook with blunt tines that
disappeared into each nostril keeping her unconscious head
upright it's weight resting on the cord suspending the hook. Her
mouth was gagged by the thick nub of an old candle pierced and
held in place by a cord around her head. The Padre strummed his
finger on the taunt string that ran from her left nipple to the
nail in the wooden floor. The reddish teat had already swollen
and was turning a purplish blue.
"How ingenious our the Jesuits were." he thought to himself.
When the pitiful girl regained her senses, he would remove the
stool and she would be forced to kneel her head kept aloft by the
nasal hooks, and suffer the pain from the tight cords secured to
each of the obscene projections of her filthy teats. The bonds
assured that she could not move to relieve the pressure on her
knees and arms. Attempts to do so would result in increased
tension on nose or breast. She would have plenty of time to
contemplate her new purpose in life, and service to god.
The Padre's thoughts were interrupted by moans from the girl as
she regained her senses.
Rachel struggled to clear her head but every movement seemed to
result in pain. Her heart pounding with terror, she blinked her
eyes to clear them but saw only blackness. Her nose throbbed in
pain but she was powerless to move her hand to explore her
injury.
"Slut," a voice said out of the darkness. "Soulless whore," you
are doing penance to cleanse yourself of the lust you have
partaken in the name of god."
The past hours came back to Rachel in a flash, her skin burned
with the realization of what she had done, her skin turned red,
as embarrassment and excitement raced through her.
She stiffened as a thick finger traced the tender length of her
cum oozing quim.
"God has ordained that you are worthy only to be a vessel of
lust. You are fit only to receive the sinful lust of others,
your womb shall be barren, poisoned by the sinful seed that is to
fill it.," he chorled. "Like the sin eaters of old you will
suckle the sin poisoned seed filling your belly, and then do
penance, that other more worthy creatures shall be saved."
"Godless whore, you shall remain here to contemplate your new
life, until I return. Pray for forgiveness, and thank the lord
that you have been chosen to serve him to this worthy purpose."
The girl felt the surface her upper torso rested on being pulled
from under her. The sudden shift of weight caused an increase in
the pain in her nose. As she struggled to ease that pain she
felt the pulling in her nipples increase. In panic she began to
buck and pull at her bonds. The Padre chuckled at her struggles.
"Poor child, you struggles only make it worse. Accept this as
you must accept you new life."
With those final words, the poor girl heard the Padre's footsteps
fade and a door close.
Rachel's struggles ceased as she found a position where the pain
became a constant. Her knees throbbed, her wrists ached and her
nose was numb. The burning in her nipples had become a dull ache
as the long nubs had become engorged with trapped blood and
turned blue black due to the tight twine that encircled them.
Minutes seemed hours, and hours seemed like an eternity. Her
empty quim was a mass of raw nerves as it throbbed with the
memory of her willing violation. The memory burned hot as she
relived the uncontrolled lust that had consumed her. She
struggled to visualize her life only weeks before, but could not.
It was as though the depraved acts of the last day had burned
away the last vestiges of the young woman that had been her. In
her place was a hollow shell of flesh, a dripping running cunt
that begged to be filled. She had become a trollop, no decent
man would want her. A hairy hole to be used as any man saw fit.
She loathed herself, but reveled in the depravity. Pain brought
her out of her orgy of self hatred as she realized she had
deliberately rocked back on her haunches pulling against both the
nasal hooks and nipple bindings bringing a fresh wave of pain to
her dulled brain.
Through the fog of pain that roared in her ears, the helpless
girl heard the door open and the soft pad of multiple feet.