by Powerone
Faith walked over to the small church, more of a chapel. Light no longer shined through the dirty or missing stained glass windows, the cross on the small steeple hung down on its side, precarious but it refused to fall to the ground. Her feet creaked on the rotted wooden porch, and she pushed open the door with an abundance of strength before it creaked open from years of neglect. Inside were three rows of pews on each side, no longer arranged in neat order, one of them lay on its side, the wood split many years ago. The altar was long forgotten, the gold cross now tarnished, almost black, the red velvet that covered the altar was ripped and rotted. Faith looked at it, strange, once she paid attention to it. It was big for the small chapel, but it wasn’t the width, but the length. The cross was way in the back of it, and the altar stretched out over six feet in front of it. Just beneath the cross was a rotted pillow of red velvet. Candles adorned the sides of the altar as if ready to light it up for all to see. Faith could almost hear the whispers of the past in the chapel. There was a crying, shrill female voice among the deep voices of men. Faith could smell the scent of the candles as they burned slowly down the sides. A flash in her head was only there for a second, but there was no mistaking what she saw. It was a girl. She was spread out on the altar. Her arms were over her head, tied to the one end of the altar. Her body was stretched out, her legs tied together at the other end. Faith could hear the girl’s clothes ripped from her body as she pleaded with the men in the black robes and hoods that hid their faces. The air became muggy and thick; Faith was barely able to breathe. She turned and ran from the chapel until she was out in the cool air. She took two deep breaths to try to fill her lungs. What had the Boldage family done out here? Was it more than just Michael that had an enthrallment with bondage? Faith began to feel fear for the first time. This might be a malevolent supernatural being that preyed on the innocent. Could all of the Boldage family be troubled?
She tried to regain her senses, taking deep breaths until her head cleared. She looked at her watch, two o’clock. What happened to the time? It seemed like she just came out here. She refused to look back as she walked off; the chill still ran up her spine as she raced back to the house. It was only about fifty feet away when she saw it. A rotted rope was wrapped around the large oak tree trunk. Not tight, it fell to the ground around it as if what it secured had somehow gotten out. She stumbled and almost fell to the ground. She looked down, the end of a bullwhip stuck up from the ground, covered with mud. She moved close to it. The leather was rotted, but it was once a proud instrument of discipline. Was not only the house the Boldage family’s playground, but also the forest where cries of help and despair wouldn’t be heard by others but could be enjoyed by the tormentors?
She walked away and tried to find her way back to the house. It took her an hour before she found it, grateful when the dilapidated manor opened up in the clearing. Even with the mysterious past of the manor, it sounded tame to what went on in the woods. She did bring back a souvenir, the rotted bullwhip. The tails were rotted, but the handle was smooth and slick. There was no mistaking that it was shaped in the form of a man’s cock, complete all the way to the mushroom head on the end. Tyler would want a picture of it for the article. There was nothing like a whip with a dildo in the handle to sell stories. At least she felt better once she returned to the safety of the haunted house. At least here, she didn’t feel the evil.
* * *
Faith took a leisurely bath; the hot water felt good after the walk in the woods. She sipped her second bottle of water since she came home, unnaturally thirsty as though the fluids were drained from her body by the chapel. She stood up and dried off in front of the uncovered window, but not even an animal watched her. She wished that some mysterious stranger would be out there and peered through the branches to get a glimpse of her naked body. She couldn’t believe how aroused she was; the walk only made it worse. The vision in her head of the girl bound on the altar and being stripped by hooded men excited her. What would they do to me once I’m naked? Her nipples tingled as the rough towel slid over them. She walked naked to the bedroom and lay in the center of the bed, naked in the bright light. It was two hours before it got dark and Faith would go to the parlor and see if she could entice Michael to come out and play. She had all of her clothes laid out, including the very sexy garter belt and nylons. How could he pass me up dressed like that? Once I start stripping, no being could stay away. She closed her eyes, her body so relaxed as if she floated in space, but she had a yearning between her thighs that burned deep. She wanted to masturbate, but she knew that she needed to be aroused to attract Michael. No matter what, tonight she’d cum by Michael’s or her own hand. She couldn’t go to sleep this horny.
She woke up from a noise she heard, but the house was silent by the time her eyes opened. Was it just a dream? She looked down at her naked body, her legs spread wide to each side of the bed as if they were bound and spread to the tall bedposts. Her crotch was opened wide, but it took a second to close her legs as if she waited to be unbound. Her arms were high over her head, together at the head of the bed as if they were tied. Her breasts were pushed out, and she looked down to see her thick, hard nipples pointed up at the ceiling. The dream started to come back to her. It was her, not the girl in her vision that was on the altar. Faith was bound and spread on the altar by three men in robes and hoods, their faces shrouded in darkness. Once she was secured, they stripped her naked, tearing off her clothes in haste. She could feel hands, six of them touched her everywhere, the tight bondage left her body stretched and unable to move an inch. They took out their cocks when she awoke; one of them kneeled next to her face as he branded her silky cheek with the hot flesh of his cock. She clenched her lips, but she knew that she couldn’t stop him if he wanted her virgin mouth. He could force her to suck his cock until he came in her mouth to shoot his cum until she would choke or swallow it. She’d have no choice, forced to service him, all of them, until they tired of taking her.
She looked out the window, the blackness of the night returned, thankful that she had left a light on. She got up and felt the dampness between her legs. She was wet and aroused. She walked naked downstairs to the kitchen to get another bottle of water. Her lovely body shimmered as she walked. She went back upstairs to dress for Michael as she sipped the cold water. When she put her lips around the end of the bottle, she wondered what it would be like if it were a real cock, not a bottle that her lips were wrapped around so possessively. Snap out of it, Faith! Damn, I’m so horny!
The parlor was already set up by the time she went downstairs. She lit the candles, over twenty of them; Faith wanted the room well lit, but not by electricity. She was afraid that she’d be interrupted if the power went out, and it made it more mysterious and sexy in the flickering light of the candles. There was even a kerosene lantern that she had found, surprised when it lit the first time. At least the candle’s scent took some of the rank smell from the rotting house. The furniture was arranged, the couch and two chairs on one side of the room. Faith stood on the other side next to a large, upholstered chair. The other side of the room was reserved for her audience. Over the couch was a large mirror, conveniently placed so that Faith could see her own image.
The image that shot back from the mirror was as though Faith was in the era of late nineteen forties. She stood up tall, the tan cashmere sweater clung to her upper body as if molded on her, but all Faith saw in the image were her breasts. She wore a conical bra beneath the sweater that made her breasts look so hard and pointed. The sweater had buttons from her neck to her waist, twenty white pearl buttons. She looked down at her hourglass figure; the dark-brown pencil skirt clung to her hips and legs but stopped just beneath her knees. She turned to the side, her ass molded by the material as she saw her silhouette. The brown stockings, with the seam up the back, were lined up perfectly straight as they pointed up beneath her skirt. Her legs were accented by the three-inch heels she wore; straps held them around her ankles. What man wouldn’t w
ant me?
She walked back and forth in front of the couch, slowly and sensuously; her hips swung as the soft whisper of the nylons made her pussy wet. She never felt this sexy before and hoped she’d have an audience to appreciate her. She walked back to the chair. She looked over her shoulders so they could admire her ass before she finally turned around. She pushed her chest out even farther, and then, her fingers went to the tiny buttons of the sweater. She started at the very top and slowly began to open them one at a time. Each time one popped open, she pushed the sweater to the sides until, by the fifth button, the first glimpse of her cleavage began to show. With the bra she wore, her breasts were pushed up high to reveal such deep cleavage. It took a while to open all the buttons, but when she was done, she pulled the sweater out of her skirt, turning sideways as she slowly pulled it off and put it on the chair. She faced the couch, her hands behind her back, her full breasts thrust out. She could feel the tingle in her nipples as if they begged to be touched.
The skirt was next; her hand found the zipper, slid it down, and released the button until the skirt fell to her feet. She kicked it off her feet, to stand there in bra, panties, and nylons with the garter belt that held them up. The panties were nothing like the briefs and thongs of nowadays. They were made of silk, a beige color with a high waist, but they were tight and clung to her naked body beneath. She teased her audience when she walked in front of them, this time in her underwear, her hips and ass moved slower and sexier as her pussy grew wetter.
The bra was next; Faith almost hated to take it off. She put her hands behind her back and arched up until her tits almost pointed to the sky. Finally, she fumbled with the massive catch to unsnap it. She kept her back arched until the bra slowly slid over her naked breasts and fell to the floor. She loved the freedom of her naked breasts; the cool air blew over the nipples as they swelled up in pleasure. Her fingers reached around to touch lightly around the areolas until tiny goose bumps appeared, and then, her fingernails grazed across the very tip of her nipples. The nipples swelled from the touch. She might not have an audience, but she certainly turned herself on.
She bent over the chair, her back to the couch. Her ass was shoved out so provocatively, but she kept her thighs tightly clenched together. Her fingers gripped the waistband of the panties and slowly began to roll it down over her ass. She stopped for a second when her crack appeared to tease her unseen audience. She pulled it down lower until her crotch was exposed; the panties were finally stopped by the strap of the garter belt on her nylons. She reached back and undid each one in the back then in the front until she could push the panties down. She let them slip to her feet while she snapped the nylons back into the garter belt. She wanted to keep the nylons on. They made her look more naked. She stood up, her thighs still together, her cheeks clenched tight. She looked over her naked shoulder before she finally turned around. She stood fully facing the couch, her hands on her hips and spread her legs until she felt her wet, oily pussy lips part. She could see her reflection in the flickering light of the candles, her pussy lips parted enough so she could tell the droplets of her arousal that coated the fine hairs on her pussy and glistened on the edge of her lips.
“Do you want me to masturbate for you?” She teased her silent guests. She sat in the chair; her legs spread wide, her hands on her inner thighs. She felt a chill in the room when the candles flickered, as if a gentle breeze had passed. She looked at the couch, but no one was there, yet it was as though someone watched her. Her fingers crept slowly up to her pussy to grab her lips and pull them apart. She felt the cool air blow on her superheated sex, but that only made her more excited. Is Michael in the room?
“Thump!” The noise shocked and scared her, and she looked to the side to see what it was. She saw the bullwhip curled up on the floor. She’d brought it down before and placed it on the mantle of the fireplace. Something or someone must have made it fall to the floor. She looked at it, the handle pointed at her. The dildo handle.
“Do you want me to masturbate with it?” She got up and walked naked to the mantle, her back to the couch as she bent over deeply to pick up the whip. She let her cheeks relax, her legs spread, to reveal all she had to those behind her. She picked the whip up and carried it back over to the chair. She sat down, her legs spread wide apart. She dropped the lash of the whip to the ground but held onto the handle. She had cleaned it before; somehow, she knew that she’d use it tonight. With her other hand, she stroked her pussy, her legs spread wide, her fingers pushed back her lips until she could feel the wetness when she stroked her slit. It felt so good, her body aroused to the point that she was ready to cum at the touch of a man’s cock, though she didn’t have one. She’d have to do with the whip handle. She played with her pussy as she inspected the handle. It was big; whomever it was modeled after had a formidable weapon. She ran her fingers over the large head, the ridge pronounced, sure to give her delicious attention inside her pussy when it pulled out and stroked her insides with the thick flange. The head was smooth, but once her fingers moved past the ridge and touched the shaft, she felt the thick veins that ran up and down the shaft. It was going to stretch her with the head and shaft, but she wanted it so badly.
She did the unthinkable–took the head of the handle and moved it to her mouth. Her tongue snaked out of her lips and licked across the leather head. She shivered in disgust from the taste, but she expected a man’s real cock would be just as distasteful. She grimaced as she pushed the head over her lips to coat them with the foul taste of leather, but her hand pushed on it until it banged against her clenched teeth. It was too big to get it all in her mouth, but her hand continued to push, just like a man would do. Her lips began to open, and the thick head forced its way inside. Her lips stretched wide until the head passed through her lips and her teeth clenched on the thick ridge to trap it from going any farther. “MMMGGGG!” She couldn’t say anything but unintelligible sounds. As much as she always thought she’d hate to suck a man’s cock, she felt a strange desire between her legs and in her head. It was as though she wanted to please the cock in her mouth. Her fingers moved faster on her pussy, the tip of her finger rang over her clit until she could feel it resonate like a bell. She almost wished she had two dildos, another for her pussy.
Faith pulled the handle from her mouth, the black leather coated in her spit. She pulled her legs up higher, to spread them wider and see her obscene pose in the mirror. She began to push the head of the dildo against her hole as she realized how long since she had something inside her. “MMMM.” She moaned as she forced the head into her pussy, surprised when her pussy sucked it in and trapped it. She felt so stretched, just like her mouth, but it felt good. She held it inside her, just the head trapped, until she could get used to it. It was so big, but there was much more to go inside, including the thick veins that would tease at her inner flesh. There was only the sound of her breathing in the room. The candles flickered. Two of them went out as a cold breeze blew by. Faith felt the chill. She listened and suddenly heard it in her head. No, it couldn’t be, but it was unmistakable. It was the sound of a zipper. She looked over at the couch, nothing was there, but the room was colder and there was a faint fog like when she blew steam out of her mouth on a frozen morning. Is Michael there? Did he open his zipper? Did he take out his cock? Faith trembled in excitement. She felt like she was an exhibitionist and Michael was a voyeur, if it was Michael. She could imagine him as he sat on the couch, his cock jutted up in the air, his fingers around the shaft as they slid up and down. He watched her as Faith began to push the dildo inside her. She would masturbate with him. He would like that.
Her body trembled in excitement as she performed for him. The dildo was huge and stretched her insides, but she knew he wanted her to do it. He’d made sure she tripped over it in the forest; he made it fall from the mantle so she would remember it was there. It hurt good when it moved inside her; her insides clenched around it possessively, her pussy was rubbed and teased by the thick
veins and the ridge on the head as it pulled out. She shoved it back in to take it all and fuck herself ruthlessly as a man would do, as Michael would do. He was known for sexually abusing his prey, making them endure anything he wanted to do to their ripe bodies. Faith was just another plaything to make him cum. He was watching her, pleased with her; all the while, he masturbated his cock. She could see how big she made him, how hard he was. He wouldn’t last much longer and neither would Faith. She had to cum.
The big dildo that thrust in and out was coated with a thick coat of her arousal. It rubbed places that were never touched before, fucked so deep that it smashed against her cervix as if it tried to drive into her womb. Faster and faster she rode the dildo, harder and harder she took it, her other hand rubbed and pinched her clit until it ached from the abuse. She’d never been fucked this hard.
“EEEHHHH!” She screamed out when she came, but her hand continued to fuck herself. The air grew colder; Faith shivered as she came explosively all over the dildo. It was like nothing she ever felt before; the arousal that built in her body since she arrived here sent her over the edge. She wished that Michael would cum inside her to bathe her insides with his cum, yet nothing could stop the orgasm that raced through her body.
It took a couple of minutes before she could get her breath back. The dildo was still inside her and filled her, but unlike a man’s cock, this one never got smaller. She finally pushed it out, and then, she did the unthinkable.