VESTAL WHORE

Feature Writer: Unknown
Feature Title: Vestal Whore: Communion of Degradation
Story Codes: fM+, reluc, interr, degrad, oral, anal, nc/cons, bdsm, exhib, fist, inc, religion

 

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 Columbia 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 descended 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 5’8” 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. At 18 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 crevasse 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 raspberries. 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. er 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 fullness 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 wash-house.

Chapter 5

The tall white girl gobbled and sucked at the hairy putrescent pit that was the fat Indian woman’s sterile womb. Her flat belly tensed at the sounds coming from outside the open door. She felt a longing to smell the musky odor of her demanding ravisher, but her pert freckled nose was clotted with the rank excreta from the fat woman’s swampy cunt. The fat liverish lips of her blood swollen and distended vulva lapped at the beautiful American girls hollowing cheeks, smearing her smooth skin with the thick sap of the older woman’s abnormal lust.

Weeks ago the young woman, her life of intellectual thought and pious undertaking thoroughly mapped out, would have shrieked madly at the mere sight of such an unimagined blasphemy.

But here, in this forbidding jungle Gomorrah, she willing groveled and debased herself for others pleasure. Her mind twisted and poisoned by the struggle between her unholy cravings and self loathing sprung from guilt. The tortured brain behind the beautiful face no longer craved ordinary satisfaction. Like a demented junkie, only degradation, torment and mortification would satiate the grotesque throbbing demon between her legs.

Disgust and revulsion combined with the thrill of taboo violation, self loathing and guilt, the rank stink of the fat woman’s cunt infused her limbic system. She relished the insistent burning in the tips of her weighty hanging breasts, as the hungry curs gorged themselves with her milk. They pulled and tugged with needle like teeth at the veiny hanging glands as they nursed at her raw cigar butt thick nipples. The sensations merged with those throbbing through her engorged clit. The ache between her legs overpowered conscious thought, like some primal animal, she could only raven. Self hatred bloomed as her nervous system craved the flood of endorphins that only humiliating pain could bring. She wallowed in a sea of black mire, drifting languidly as it seeped through her baptizing her soul with it’s putrid filthy pleasure.

Out of foul bestial need, the pathetic young blond snaked a free hand back between the greedy cur pups feasting at the pale engorged sacks of her fluid swollen breasts to find the throbbing tormentor between her quivering thighs. Her nimble fingers found her breakfast sausage thick clitoris and began to twist and pull at the ring that pierced its base. Her moans were muffled as her mouth rooted in the wet mop of coarse black hair that veiled the older woman’s reeking labia. The innocent tinkling of the whore’s bells filled the room as the hungry pups rooted at the taut skin of her swollen breasts.

The beautiful young teen moaned. If her lust drugged brain had been capable of thought she would have admitted to herself that she craved it, no, she loved it, loved it more than she had loved anything in her live. The thrill that coursed through her, the hot burning thrill of depravity, of sin.

Yes, she was lost, she would admit. But the scalding sensations, the pain, the utter wickedness of it all. Yes, it was worth it. But a gnawing emptiness twisted her guts. Then she remembered, she jerked against the gnawing teeth of the nursing pups and gloated as the sharp pain pierced the wonderful encompassing fog of pleasure that engulfed her. The sick thrill coursed through her igniting sated nerves. She humped her torso pulling and jerking her fat wobbling breasts against the sharp grasping teeth of the hungry pups. Yes, the sharp tendrils of pain cut through the dull lulling pleasure to prick and spark along the greasy slick length of her clit. “More” her animal mind screamed , “Give me more!”.

“U-h-h-h, m-m-m-m-h”, she moaned as her own fingers plucked and twisted cruelly at the engorged finger of her pierced clit.

The pulling an tugging of the ring was not enough, she scratched and scrapped the red sticky flesh with the nubs of her cracked dirty nails, drawing blood. The young slut rocked her arched bottom from side to side as she feasted at the squalid swamp of the Bolivian woman’s cunt. Her pert nose blew bubbles in the thick aqueous filth that oozed from the depths of the wet gash as she snuffled and snorted as her own excitement grew.

The fat woman sprawled on the chair above her grunted like the fat sow she was as the white teen licked and sucked at the little grub of her swollen clit. She moaned as the white girl’s pink tongue wriggled deep into the cesspool of her distended belly. She reached around the skirt of fat hanging from her belly and grasped the teen’s blond burry head in her fat hands pulling her face deep into her wet crevasse.

She felt the short bristles of the teen’s newly shorn head beneath her hands. She glanced down and smiled at the sight of the shorn blond tresses lying on the floor around the groveling ripe teen.

The sound of the large cur’s feet on the wooden floor was lost amid the snuffling snorts and the roaring of lust driven blood in Rachel’s ears. The old cook stood at the door and watched as the large mangy brown cur trotted up behind the kneeling girl and mounted her without a pause.

Rachel grunted in surprise, her lone arm nearly buckling, breath driven from her lungs under the familiar weight of the large cur. Her bottom knotted in delightful anticipation as still another obscene piece of her world fell neatly into place. The attractive teen braced herself splaying her knees and snuggling her wet face deeper in the fetid cleft of the woman’s crotch, her forehead pressed against the loose stretch marked flesh of the Indian’s belly. Her lone arm stiffened and her pale muscular back flexed to accept the weight of the hairy beast. Her heavy breasts swayed beneath her like lanterns, pulled outward by long red nipples clamped between the teeth of the hungry pups. The tinkling of her whores bells playing a mocking tune.

The cook watched as the large dog pranced on his muscular hind legs. It’s deep hairy chest seemed to mold perfectly with the girl’s downward arched back, fitting into the deep muscular groove along her spine. The cur’s front legs clasped the pale girl’s waist, finding purchase just in front of the fullness of her hips.

The cur’s scabby brown muzzle thrust outward at the end of a long muscular neck, straining to penetrate the girl. The cook watched as the dog’s lean hindquarters humped back and forth, black hair covered balls jangling between dancing legs. He could see the red meaty sausage of the cur’s dong swaying beneath the brown hairy belly, swabbing the inside of the beautiful teen’s lean muscular thighs with each thrust.

The teen’s thighs shone with slime from the dog’s leaking cock. Saliva dripped from the cur’s flews as it desperately tried to sheath the red dripping cock in the straining teen’s cunt. The dog’s tongue lolled from it’s great jaws, streaming saliva to drip on the pretty girls pale back varnishing the sleek sides of her ribcage.

The saliva slick skin of her ribcage shone like alabaster veined with fading welts and scratches. Her ribs shown through skin drawn tight by the weight of her perilously engorged breasts, swinging like twin clappers beneath her.

Rachel groaned into the wet morass of the woman’s cunt with demented frustration, her evil clitoris throbbed as she clawed and scratched at the fat cylinder of nerves. She moaned an eager giggle when she felt the thick wet tube of the cur’s pumping dong rub against the back of her hand. She released her tortured clit and tried to capture the delightful rod of bestial gristle as it swapped the inside of her trembling thighs. She stiffened and moaned as the heavy swaying tube rubbed against her arrogant finger thick clitoris.

A moan of frustration escaped her wet swollen lips only to bubble the thick mixture of saliva and slime pooling in the fat Indian’s cunt. Her pale little fingers danced a familiar duel with the thick swaying red tube. The beautiful teen tensed her legs and buttocks, opening the wide cleft between the muscular mounds. Her sparse blond pubes, matted with her own liquid excitement, seemed to bristle in anticipation, rising from their wet repose amid the lines of brass rings piercing her slick labia in anticipatory salute to welcome the girl’s bestial master.

Success! The beautiful young teen tensed as her hand closed around the thrusting red shaft, she moaned an anxious giggle as she felt the slimy rough texture of the bestial dong beneath her desperately eager fingers. A hunger welled up in her chest, it burned like molten metal as it raced through her slim muscular limbs as the thick meaty club slicked back and forth in her small pale hand spurting thin hot jets of the eager beast’s sperm, as she guided it to the splayed dripping cleft of her gaping labia.

The beautiful girl’s profanity caused the old cook’s short thick cock to twitch and swell. He shook his head in refusal of the blasphemous sight, but could not avert his eyes. He had watched this cur and others mount her, but he had never shaken the shear raw perversity of it from his mind. He had watched the beautiful yanqui girl debase herself for the whole platoon of soldiers. Even the depraved act his wife now made her perform was bad, but with an animal, it was different. She was damning her soul to hell for all times so great was the sacrilege. She chose to be a whore bitch to a lowly cur dog. She willing desecrated the beauty and sanctity of the temple of her god-given body for a lowly beast.

The sight of it made the putrid sperm boil in his withered balls.

His eyes were agog, watching as the pretty young woman’s small hand, trembling with anticipation, eagerly guided the red dripping club to the entrance of her defiled cathedral. He heard the muffled groan of satisfaction as the tiny hand guided the oscillating red shaft of vein wrapped gristle into the yawning mouth of the young woman’s womb. The pretty teen thrilled to the feel of the animal’s filthy hot sperm as it jetted from the thick staff to bath her swollen sensitive clitoris.

Rachel shuddered as the thick bestial dong stretched the mouth of her hot eager vagina, teased for an instant as the great beast’s instincts took hold, then slid full length into her hot sucking cunt. Her shorn head shot up and a laughing moan of satisfaction gurgled from her outstretched throat as she felt the wrist thick shaft butt against her greedy cervix as the length of the animal cock filled her leaking bottom to bursting.

Tears of gratitude welled in her wide blue eyes as the cur’s hips continued their stattacco cadence, pumping the thick blue veined shaft in and out of her hungrily clasping quim. The beautiful girl pursed her lips and dropped her slime slick face back to the cesspool between the fat woman’s thighs and ran her pink tongue over the nub of the fat woman’s clitoris with renewed relish.

The fat cook rubbed his hands on his dirty pantaloons as he watched the large dog humping against the pretty girl’s upturned bottom. The large dog’s hindquarters pranced between the teen’s splayed pale calves, large black balls jangling between the beast’s hairy rear legs as the cur pumped his heavy log like dong into the eager young teen’s unresistant cunt. The insides of the girl’s thighs ran with her excitement mingled with the cur’s thin sperm.

Rachel grunted and moaned as she tensed her legs to support the weight of the heavy beast. Her head spun with the stretching sensation in her bottom as the cur’s thick log pumped in and out. She luxuriated in the obscene feel of the cur’s coarse hair against her pale thighs and back, and the warm softness of his belly against her tensed up turned buttocks. She met the cur’s rapid pumping with a rocking backward that kept cadence with her grunts.

Each thrust sent the red blue veined monster deep in her clasping cunt, battering against the weeping stump of her cervix and skittering off to gouge the far wall of her stretched vagina. Only the thick mass of the cur’s knot battering against the swollen pierced lips of the teen’s vulva prevented the bestial rod from rupturing the abused envelope of her womb. A masochistic need was satisfied by the nauseating ache in the pit of the young missionaries stomach as the cur’s long battering ram destroyed her last semblance of humanity. Human flesh and will succumbed to hard bestial flesh and instinct.

A hungry groan bubbled from her lips as she reached back between her legs with both arms, her heavy torso supported by her wet face against the swamp of the fat woman’s quim. Her arms squeezed past the heavy hanging masses of her oversized udders as causing the ravening pups to pull and champ at the bleeding nipples clasped in their small jaws.

The new rush of pain barely pierced the veil of need that clouded her sick hungry mind as one set of fingers spread her fat swollen vulva, feeling the rough surface of the slime coated rod pistoning in and out of her desecrated cunt.

A whine of frustration oozed from her slime coated lips until her other searching fingers caught the cur’s oscillating knot and began to force it past the resisting mouth of her ravaged sanctuary.

“A-h-h-h-h-h-h-h, G-a-w-w-w-w-w-d!” she moaned to the depraved ethereal being, author of her profane desecration, as the thick mass of canine flesh choked the throat of her womb, stretching the corrupt flesh to near rending.

Her masochistic fingers forcing the muscular bulge into the scarred channel of her lickering quim.

The excited Bolivian cook waddled to the perversion formed by the melding of the two women and the humping beast. The sweating salivating monstrosity was animated by the engine of the cur’s muscular loins. His savage thrusting, mirrored by the masochistic motion of the fallen young woman, caused the grotesque flesh of the fat Indian woman to roll and jiggle like a putrescent mound of cottage cheese. He was careful to stay distant from the humping cur, wary of his slavering jaws.

His dark eyes watched as the large cur humped brutally against the thrusting pale cheeks of the beautiful girl’s upturned bottom, the beast’s front legs jealously gripping the teen’s narrow midsection, it’s thick neck thrust out, straining over the girl’s swayed back. It was the picture of base primal lust, the large cur straining with every fiber of his being to bury his fat leaking dong as deeply as possible into the guts of young white teen. For her part, the rapacious slut groveled and moaned willfully accepting debasement by the mindless beast.

Her own base instincts reducing her to a level even below the cur. Straining to accept the cur’s seed in a futile act of blasphemous procreation. On they humped as the cur’s huge knot continued to swell in the ravaged confines of the girl’s choked cunt, stretching and wrenching the fragile tissues of her once hallowed treasure.

The fat man jerked and pulled at his pantaloons until he freed the stump of his cock and offered it to the glistening face of his corpulent wife. She raised a brown hand to cup the sagging orbs of his sparsely haired balls as he fed the swollen sprig to her gaping lips. He began to move his fat hips back and pumping his prick in and out of her mouth, never once taking his eyes off the rutting couple.

The sensation was like nausea, a gut tearing nausea. The pounding of the cur’s dong bruising, like a fist to her guts, the horrific painful pressure of the cur’s swelling knot like a growing cancerous tumor threatening to engulf her insides.

“Yes! She loved it, gawd yes!” she would have thought with a masochistic thrill. To die impaled on the end of the large beast’s cock would have been her fondest wish if her degenerate brain could have held a conscious thought.

But the poor beautiful teen humped like a mindless bitch slut, supping at the suppurating wound of the fat woman’s quim, while her little cunt was stuffed with the thick red vein encrusted post of the cur’s spurting cock.

Supporting herself on her hands and knees the beautiful American whore thrust back against the hairy belly of the mangy cur while the fat cook slaked his wife’s foul thirst with the syrup of his rancid seed.

The mindless beast strove to fill his instinctual need to dominate the female before him and filled the beggarly teen’s gluttonous womb with vein wrapped length of his spouting dong. The cur’s thin hot sperm hosed into the depths of the young girl’s greedy cunt, pooling behind the profane dam of the beast’s obscenely large knot. The hairy flanks of the beast continued to hump against the girl’s smooth upturned bottom in futility the large ball of blood engorged gristle locking them together. The thin hot seed of the great beast washed the walls of the bitch’s cunt, inundating her sanctuary like a foul tide.

But nothing could slake her perverse need. Like a insatiable glutton, the masochistic slut jerked and pulled against the impossibly huge orb of bestial flesh lodged in the throat of her defiled womb. She groaned with the pain of rending flesh as she strove to punish herself for her willful perversion and blasphemy. A free hand snaked between the grotesquely fat melons of her pendulous swollen breasts to claw at her thickly swollen clitoris.

The cook’s fat wife lapped and sucked at her husband’s stump of a cock, her free hand kneading his heavy balls. She felt the talented tongue of the young American slut playing over the throbbing lump of her clitoris bringing her to climax. A low gurgle sounded from her chest as the tingling knot in her fat belly began to grow. Muscles tensed beneath inches of flaccid flab as she wallowed and grunted like a rutting sow. Her tongue lolled over the head of the cook’s brown cock, he grunted and a jet of yellowish sperm jetted into her gaping mouth as they joined in obscene release.

Rachel’s pale neck arched, the flush of pleasure rose from within the valley between her huge heavy breasts to color her glistening slick face. Her lust swollen lips parted, admitting a bestial wailing moan, as her fingers plucked and scraped at the rigid finger of her pierced clit.

The pale teen’s muscular body began to buck and thrash as she shuddered through an immoral and polluted orgasm. Her shorn head thrashed, sweat streamed down her sleek flanks and her arms buckled as the black liquid fire shot through her, as if even her desecrated flesh was in rebellion.

“O-h-h-h-h, g-a-w-w-w-w-d, u-h-h-h-h-h-h” she grunted as yet another current of depraved sensation shot through her as she jerked against the lump of bestial flesh lodged in her womb like meat in the throat of a choking glutton.

She jerked and moaned, her fat veiny breasts wobbling beneath her, scattering droplets of sweat. Their merry nipple bells tinkling a tune of squalorous lust as hungry pups sucked and chewed receiving gobbet after gobbet of rich nourishment from the girl’s heavy hanging melons.

The mangy cur’s rapacious humping diminished along with the dribbling flow of bestial seed topping the young girl’s distended womb. The great beast’s jealous hold on the teen’s fleshy hips diminished, his base instinct met. But not hers. The impious slut continued to rock and thrust against the fleshy club embedded in her guts, as she strove to eek out the smallest measure of degradation, pain and submission to slake her profane perversion.

Her mind awash with the foul dregs of her unholy pleasure, she vaguely felt the cur’s weight lift from her back and felt a sudden thrilling pain as if her very womb was being torn from it’s mooring.

She groaned as the pain blossomed into still another cursed climax, and grunted and squealed as she was pulled backward off her knees by the huge cur, his knot still firmly embedded in her spasming cunt. Her hands clawed at the floor as the cur walked toward the open door dragging her behind him. The girl’s pale writhing form leaving a dark wet smear along the floor from her mingled sweat and guilty secretions. The voracious pups followed pulling and champing at her fat udders as they dragged along the floor.

The large cur leaned toward the door as if walking into a high wind, dragging the girl behind him. The young blasphemer flopped and writhed wetly as she wallowed in painful pleasure connected to the beast by the red wrist thick column of his cock. Her damp slick skin became smudged and stained with the filth from the dirty floor as she dragged behind the straining cur like a pale fleshy appendage. The two were joined as one by the pipe of bestial flesh and gristle. The whole of the young teen’s pierced vulva bulged abhorrently as the clinging feminine flesh refused passage of the blood swollen ball of the cur’s huge knot.

Her twisted need welcomed the excruciating pain, transforming it into yet another bubble of pleasure that burst filling the vacuum of the beautiful girl’s mind.

THE END