by Ray Gordon
Passing a church as she neared the park, Marianne was suddenly overwhelmed by a wicked yearning to commit an evil act. Opening the church door, she entered the cold building, wondering where the vicar was. Walking down the aisle, her vagina oozing with her juices of lust, she climbed the carpeted steps to the altar. Dare I? she wondered, running her hands over the tapestry covering the altar. Eyeing two candlesticks standing at either end of the altar, Marianne grinned. Climbing onto the altar, she moved to one end, her heart racing, her stomach somersaulting. The devil's daughter, she mused.
Made from brass, the candlestick held a long candle, the rounded tip a good three feet high. Standing on her toes, her pussy-crack above the candle, she lifted her new minidress up over her stomach and eased the wax phallus between her swollen cunny lips. Gently lowering her body, she threw her head back as the waxen shaft glided into her tightening vagina.
'God, it's big!' she cried, her profane words resounding around the church as she completely impaled herself on the solid shaft. Gyrating her hips, bobbing up and down, she gasped as her vaginal muscles tightened, gripping the slippery shaft. Her mind bent on committing the most evil and depraved act she could imagine, she raised her body, slipping the candle from her hot pussy-hole. Dragging the other candlestick across the altar, she positioned it by the first, giggling as she manoeuvred her body, aligning her yearning love-holes with the two rounded tips.
Gently lowering the open centre of her body, she eased the candles into her holes, gasping as her sheaths stretched, opened to accommodate the holy offerings. 'God, it's beautiful!' she cried as the shafts slipped deeper into her body, bringing her incredible sensations in her sacrilegious obscenity. You gave me my cunt, she thought blasphemously, throwing her head back and looking up to the church roof. You gave me my holes, my beautiful cunt and my tight bum - so I'll use them!
Massaging her clitoris as she bounced up and down, double-fucking herself with the phallic symbols, she brought out her orgasm, wailing her pleasure as her body shuddered uncontrollably. 'God, this is good! Ah, my cunt! My beautiful bum!' On and on her climax rolled, taking her ever closer to her sexual heaven, ever deeper into the mire of her new-round evil. Her girl-come streaming down the waxen shaft as she bounced on the love-poles, she finally slowed her rhythm, gently caressing her pulsating clitoris, gasping her wanton abandonment.
'Jesus Christ!' a man in a cassock cried as he stood before the altar looking up at Marianne's swollen pussy lips, taut around the massive candle. 'What do you think you're doing?' Marianne looked down at the vicar, her blue eyes sparkling. She felt no remorse, no embarrassment as she grinned at the man's ashen face - only a sense of satisfaction at the shock, the disgust, so obviously depicted in his expression. 'What you doing, girl?' he repeated angrily, his eyes transfixed on her exposed clitoris.
'Fucking your candles,' she giggled, aroused more than ever now.
'Come down from there! I have never...'
His words tailed off as Marianne raised her trembling body, the shafts from her abused holes. He could only stare in disbelief as she peeled her cunny lips open, exposing her swollen clitoris, her pinken vaginal entrance, her girl-cream flowing in torrents, running down her inner thighs. As she climbed down from the altar, she deliberately opened her legs, virtually doing the splits, revealing her tight brown hole to the vicar's wide eyes. Standing before him, her minidress still high over her stomach, she grinned.
'Don't mind me using your candles to bring myself off, do you?' she asked. His mouth hanging open, he said nothing as she tugged her dress down, concealing her blatantly violated femininity. 'I was just passing your church and felt like a frig. When I saw the candles, I just couldn't help myself,' she giggled.
As she left the church, she turned to face the man of God. 'I'll come again, if it's all right with you?' she giggled. He gazed at her, her dishevelled blonde hair, her breasts ballooning her tight dress, her shapely thighs. 'Is it all right?' she asked again. 'You don't mind me fucking your candles?' Unable to voice his evil affirmation, he nodded, a slight smile furling his lips as he looked up to the roof. 'When I'm passing again, I'll come in - and come. You can give me a hand!' she called as she walked out into the summer sun, leaving him to contemplate the blasphemous act.
Sitting on the park bench, Marianne gazed at Rod's house, wondering whether he was with a client or not, whether to visit him - enjoy an hour of debauched sex with him. No, I mustn't, she suddenly thought, realizing that her clitoris was beginning to rule her life. My God, I did it in a church - on the bloody altar! Recalling the candles, her incredible orgasm, she wondered what she was becoming, what had possessed her to commit her blatant act of sin. Walking home, she knew that she had to fight, to change her ways, or she'd be sucked deeper into the mire of her own debauchery. Unless I stop now, I'll never be able to stop.
Calling Barry as she walked out into the back garden and neared the garage, she wondered what horrendous devices he'd attached to his pillory. She wondered, too, how to end her enslavement. Covering his creation with the tarpaulin as she entered the garage, Barry frowned. 'You've been a long time,' he scolded, eyeing her tartan minidress. 'Is that what you spent the money on?'
'Yes,' she smiled. 'Do you like it?'
'It's several sizes too small for you,' he laughed. 'It certainly shows your body off. Yes, I like it very much.'
'What have you been up to? You're spending more and more time out here. What are you doing?'
'Making something. You'll see it before long, it's a surprise.'
'Oh, you've carpeted the floor. I hadn't noticed.'
'Yes, this is going to be my den. I've moved the junk out of the way, and I'm going to put a sofa out here. I'll work out here, use it as my office.'
'What's the video camera set up for?'
'Er... well, the before and after. I'm videoing the transformation.'
'Oh, I see. Well, I'll leave you to it.'
'Come back soon, Marianne, and I'll show you what I've made.'
'All right. I'm going to ring Jill.'
Returning to the house, Marianne took the Christmas candle from the cupboard. She grabbed the card from her bag and dialled the number, wondering what to say to the lucky accountant. 'Christopher Davies,' he answered.
'Chris, it's me - the girl from the coffee shop,' Marianne replied, her stomach somersaulting as she massaged her clitoris.
'Oh, hi! I was wondering when you'd ring.'
'Enjoy your coffee, did you?'
'That was the best cup of coffee I've ever had!' he laughed.
'What's your name?'
'You can call me Sarah.'
'No, your real name.'
'That would be telling. Did you like my cunt?' she asked wickedly.
'God, yes! You're some girl!'
'I'm frigging my clitty at the moment. I'd like your cock up my bum. Would you like to fuck my bum?'
'Christ, you're beautiful. I'd love to fuck your bum.'
'Are you alone?'
'Yes, in my office at home - I work from home.'
'Why don't you have a nice wank? Get your cock out and wank while I tell you what I'm doing to my cunt.'
Marianne paused, listening as he shuffled in his chair. She imagined him pulling out his stiff penis as she slipped a finger into her perpetually drenched vagina. What she was doing this for, she had no idea. Just another step down the road to her complete and utter debasement, she mused. She'd call at the church again, she decided. Call on the vicar, wank him off, splatter his seed on the stone floor of the church.
Her mind becoming increasingly hungry for sin, she slipped her finger from her vaginal cavern and grabbed the candle. Easing the waxen shaft into her cunt, she gasped. 'Ah, that's feels good!'
'What are you doing?' her partner in masturbation asked.
'I've just pushed a huge candle up my wet cunt. Are you wanking?'
'Yes, yes, I am. I'm really stiff. I'd like to come up your cunt.'
'Perhaps you will, o
ne day. I'm pulling the candle out now. I'm squatting, trying to force it up my bum. Can you picture me, picture my cunt, hanging wide open, dripping with my come? Picture my bum-hole as I twist the candle. I'm pushing it... Ah, ah, God! It's in! Yes, I've got it in! Now I'm... Ah, ah! Now I'm easing it right up my bum. Further, further. Are you going to come?'
'Ah, yes, soon! I want to shove it up your arse!'
'Perhaps I'll let you do that one day, too. Now the candle's right in. I'm standing again. God, my buttocks are wrapped around the end of the candle. I'm fingering my tight cunt now. Three, no, four fingers. God, I'm drenched! I need a stiff cock in my mouth. Would you like me to suck your cock and swallow your sperm?'
'Yes... yes... Coming! Ah, coming. My sperm, it's running over my balls! Ah, I want your mouth, your bum, your cunt!'
'I'm... I'm coming, too! God, my cunt's coming! Ah, my cunt, my beautiful cunt!'
Gasping their orgasmic sounds down the phone, Marianne and her unseen partner in lust finally slowed their massaging. 'God, I needed that!' he breathed.
'And so did I,' Marianne laughed as the back door closed. 'Look, I've got to go. You'll hear from me soon. Bye!'
Hiding the candle beneath the hall table, Marianne adjusted her dress and wandered innocently into the kitchen. 'Juxtaposition,' Barry breathed as she walked to the back door. The word had worked again. Stopping, she turned to face her master, her hands limp by her sides, her expression blank, wondering what he was going to demand of her. 'As I told you earlier, I'm having some friends over this evening. I want you to wear your new dress, and no knickers or bra. You're going to entertain my friends, Marianne. The garage is now a sex den where you'll receive my friends and earn me money. There are five of them, and they've each paid me forty pounds for the pleasure of your body for the evening. Make sure you're here this evening, Marianne. They're arriving at seven, so you'll be here, ready and waiting, Do you understand?'
'Yes, I do,' Marianne replied.
'Good. Now, go and take a shower. And shave the stubble off your cunt; I want it nice and soft. OK, wake up.'
Chapter Nine
Slipping her minidress off she stepped into the shower, tossing her head back and squeezing her eyes shut as the hot water rained over her suntanned face.
Barry would use his video camera to record the debauchery, no doubt keeping his friends' faces out of frame as they drove their penises deep into her naked body. Change the names to protect the guilty, she mused wryly. But, Marianne consoled herself, she'd grab the money - her hard-earned money!
Taking the shower nozzle from the wall, Marianne parted her fleshy vaginal lips, opening the entrance to her sticky pussy-hole. Pressing the nozzle against her pink inner flesh, she gasped as the hot water quickly filled her sex-cavern. 'Ah, that's nice,' she breathed as her vagina swelled and overflowed, the hot water streaming down her legs as she shuddered with delight. Again, her clitoris stirred, and she wondered how much sex she could take, how many beautiful orgasms she could endure. John, Alan, Barry, David, the girls, candles, vibrators... And whatever the evening held in store for her! God, I love sex, she reflected.
Squatting, her vaginal lips distended, Marianne positioned the shower nozzle between her splayed buttocks, directing the hot water onto her anal ring. Her small hole yielding to the water pressure, her bowels suddenly ballooned. 'Ah, ah!' she breathed, her head lolling forward, her eyes rolling, as the water suddenly overflowed, gushing past the nozzle and flooding her feet.
Massaging her erect clitoris with her other hand, she elicited a shuddering orgasm, writhing as her bowels bubbled with hot water and her clitoris pulsated in ecstasy. 'Oh, my God!' she gasped as the beautiful sensations caused her body to shake violently. 'Oh, my cunt! My clit!'
The sensations finally subsiding, she leaned back against the tiled wall and dropped the nozzle to the floor, the water spraying up from the snaking nozzle, showering her firm breasts. 'How many times can I come?' she whispered as she climbed unsteadily to her feet. 'God, how many times?'
Dragging her thoughts away from her insatiable clitoris, Marianne stepped out of the shower and walked across the landing to her bedroom. Standing before the full-length mirror, she grinned. No need to shave the stubble off, she thought, gazing at her pouting cunt lips, still smooth and soft after shaving them in the bath the previous night. Eyeing the hairspray can on the dressing table, she wondered whether Barry had had the insight to line up a row of candles or plastic bottles for the men to plunge into her body, her two love-holes. Knowing Barry, he's bought several bloody great candles, she laughed inwardly as she slipped into her tartan minidress, squeezing her firm breasts into the tight garment.
Opening the dressing table drawer, she pulled out a pair of red silk panties, wondering about John's hypnotic suggestion. Stepping into the garment, she was unable to pull them up her long legs. Her muscles wouldn't respond as she tried again and again to conceal her intimacy. Discarding the panties, she realized that she was wide open to suggestion when in a hypnotic trance - any suggestion! Where will this all end? she wondered fearfully - excitedly.
Noticing a pair of Barry's trousers folded over the back of the chair, she discarded her panties and slipped her hands into the pockets, wondering whether he'd hidden the cash his friends had given him beneath the floorboards yet. 'Yes,' she cried victoriously, pulling out a wad of notes. 'Two hundred!' Hiding the money behind the wardrobe, she sat at the dressing table brushing her long blonde hair. She'd now collected seven hundred pounds from Barry, she mused, applying her lipstick. 'You're doing well, Marianne,' she giggled, gazing at her reflection in the mirror.
As she peered deep into her own misty blue eyes, she wondered again at the old Marianne, where she'd gone. Never had she dreamed that she'd stand on a church altar and lower the open centre of her body onto two huge candles and masturbate. But her new way of life pleased her. It was bringing her money and more than enough sexual satisfaction. Or was it? Her clitoris stirring between her full cunny lips again, her girl-juice flowing, lubricating her sex-sheath in readiness for penile penetration, the cold reality of her situation hit home.
Again, Marianne swore to learn the art of hypnosis, to turn the tables and pay Barry back for all he'd done. She also thought about John, the photographs he'd taken of her. He's another one who'll have his comeuppance, she asserted. But for now she had the evening to look forward to, and she wandered downstairs to await the arrival of her abusers.
As the time neared seven, Barry became nervy, jittery as he paced the lounge floor, checking his watch every few minutes. 'What's the matter?' Marianne asked, looking up from the sofa and brushing her blonde hair away from her pretty face.
'Nothing,' he replied, gazing out of the window. Turning to face her, he breathed the magic word, grinning as Marianne's eyes gazed blankly across the room. 'Right, they'll be here any minute now,' he said excitedly, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. 'Follow me - I'm taking you to my sex den.'
Following Barry, Marianne was having second thoughts about the evening. As she entered the garage and gazed at the pillory, she wished that she'd gone to the park or into town - anywhere to get away from Barry and his perverted friends. At least the garage was comfortable, she thought, gazing at a sofa. A long padded bench catching her eye, she imagined having her naked body intimately examined by her masters. Lengths of rope hung ominously from the corners of the bench and, noticing a whip and bamboo canes, she quivered, picturing herself tied down, her naked buttocks exposed for a thrashing.
Several vibrators, candles and plastic bottles of various sizes lined a wall-shelf, and Marianne wondered now not only at Barry's darker side, but the unfathomable depths of his evil mind. More lengths of rope hung over the pillory standing in the middle of the garage and a host of grotesque metal devices lay on a small table. Barry had certainly done a good job transforming the garage into a sexual torture chamber, she thought fearfully as he patted her taut buttocks.
'OK,' Barry grinned,
switching on the bright spotlights positioned above the pillory. 'I want you posing provocatively when they arrive, a sort of welcoming sight, if you get my meaning. Now, hoist your dress up above your waist and lie on the bench, on your stomach.'
Tugging her dress up, exposing her bulging, hairless cunt lips, her gaping pussy-crack, Marianne sensed her arousal, and her fear, rapidly rising. Five men, she mused as she climbed onto the bench and obediently awaited her next instruction. Five penises!
'Right, legs apart, that's it - wider. Now I'll secure your ankles and wrists with the ropes. What a welcoming sight you will be.'
Pulling her legs as wide apart as he could, Barry secured her ankles, tying the ropes fast before moving to the top of the bench. Her arms outstretched, he secured her wrists and stood back, admiring his handiwork. 'Oh, I forgot this,' he said, forcing a pillow beneath her tethered body. Her buttocks high in the air, Marianne imagined the view - her cunt lips open, revealing her pinken inner girl-flesh, her small brown hole blatantly displayed, nestling within her bottom-crease. There's no escaping now, she thought fearfully as Barry left the garage to answer the front door.
Hearing voices, Marianne took a deep breath. Five men, she thought again. My God, five men - five cocks! Her mind racked, she wondered why she'd ever let things get out of hand. Even though the trigger word worked, she could have I prevented this incredible situation, she reflected. I should have gone to stay with my mother!
'Come in,' Barry invited his eager guests. 'She's all ready for you.'
'God, what a beautiful sight!' a male gasped. 'She's shaved her cunt! Do you mind if I...?'