Feature Writer: TeresaJ / [email protected]

Feature Title: CHURCH WHORE 2

Published: 10.11.2009 / EuropEscort Guide

Story Codes: Religious Themes, Demonic

About the author: TeresaJ is the pen name for a 48-year-old woman living in south San Antonio. She grew up on Presa Street and saw the whores ply their trade in the open through all her upbringing. TeresaJ is a recovering substance abuser who knew personally many of the prostitutes in her neighborhood. Her sister and three of her female cousins are prostitutes. The characters in this story are fictional, but they are loosely based on the lives of people TeresaJ knew.

Church Whore 2

Alberto Cazares:

“That Isabel, heh, let me tell you, I could see her for what she was from the first Sunday she come in to church with her little girls. You want to know how easy it is to make a whore? Eh? Let me tell you, if you know what to look for it is too fuckin’ easy. But you have to know what to look for. And you have to be willing to do anything to get to the bitch, sabes? You have to have a killer’s instinct. Let me tell you, a whore is just a cheating bitch – that is all! If she has the wandering eye, she dress and paint herself just a little too much, it does not have to be too provocative, just know she is fishing for a man’s eye — any man’s eye.  Now you might think, but lots of women, they dress a little sexy and they are not whores. Yes, yes, that is true. So, there is more to look for. It is this …”

And Mr. Cazares pointed a finger at his eighteen-year-old son who had hopes of following in his father’s wicked ways.

“The whore, she sooner or later gives the invitation to be alone with her. You see? La puta, she is looking for trouble. This woman, it was a common gossip among the women of the church that she had been unfaithful to her lazy husband. I did not know how evil the bitch was, but I knew enough to be interested, to get me a hard-on looking at her in church. But there is more, and this is the most important part. A puta, she will let you tell her she is a puta. She may act offended, but to be called out, to be thrown in her face the title of ‘puta’ — eh? — this excites her, boy. You tell her enough times, and she will let the news sink deep into her soul. Mujer cochina, esa, (dirty woman, that one). I’m telling you the truth! I didn’t do anything but put her in front of the mirror of her soul and tell her what she really was! Una zorra! (A skunk — in Latin cultures, it is common to call a slut a skunk; this is a vulgar reference to the smell of a bitch that is constantly fucking, and of the white stripe on the back, a euphemism for a spine covered with semen).”

Mr. Cazares adjusted his organ. He was getting aroused talking this way about Isabel Manchada. His son smiled and fondled his own organ. The ease with which he disrespected her was total, and his perceptions were conveyed unto the boy.

“Man, I can’t wait to fuck her, papa!” the boy said after letting out a chuckle.

Mr. Cazares patted his son on the shoulder.

“That’s my boy! Yes, you will. You will get to fuck that bitch,” he said.

Cazares went on, “After that first time, after she let me to treat her like a common whore in the utility closet of the church – ha, ha! – I did not have to call her anymore. I was no longer the hunter pursuing the little fishy. No. The little fishy, she was on the hook! She was calling me! She was begging me!”

“Ay, papi,” she said, “When are you going to be with me again. I want you. I need you so bad, papi! How you make me crazy. Uyy! I am crazy for you, papi.”

“La pendeja (the dumb girl), she has no clue how deep in the shit she is. She has no fuckin’ clue what I am willing to do to get to a puta and put her pussy to work.”

xxxxx

Isabel:

After my first sexual experience with Mr. Cazares, oh my god, I was this bundle of nerves. All I could think of the rest of that Sunday was how could I get alone with him again. My stomach had no appetite for food. I couldn’t eat or think of lunch, or even of dinner. I cooked for my daughters and husband and went without. I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts. I just wanted privacy to recall every moment in that closet.

What had happened to me there? It was so intense, so unbelievably wicked what we had done.

I knew it was wrong, but I could not help myself. I wanted to relive every precious thrust of his cock inside of me. I wanted to remember every vicious word that he had spit like fiery arrows into my soul. I wanted to run from my home and be alone with him again. I felt like a deer chasing the hunter.

“Come! Here I am. Slay me. Skin me. Strip me bare to my bones!”

That Sunday night, I did not sleep. I only thought of him and our actions. It was not until four in the morning that sleep overcame me. And at 6.00 AM the alarm clock went off. With only two hours sleep, I pulled myself together, got my daughters up and to school, sent my husband out the door with a kiss and his cup of coffee.

I dressed in a terrible hurry. I could not wait to get to the office and call Mr. Cazares. Forget waiting for him to call me and feed me my servings of dirty talk. I wanted him now!

And he was only too obliging. All morning, in between my clerical chores, I had his wicked voice streaming obscenities into my ear. He told me in a thousand ways what a hot whore I was. And there was no more being disagreeable with him on my part. I accepted his offenses. I said yes to everything. He even talked now of his
desire to introduce me in groups of men, for orgies! He told me how I would sell my body and for how much, and what I would do.

And I would say only, “Uy, papi! Oh noo! Mmmm, yes papi. Ayy, que nasty! Mmmm, ay papasito, the things you say. You make me blush. Mmm, papi, I’m hot for you now.”

I took it all as erotic talk. Things a perverse older man would say to excite his new young lover, and to excite himself as well. I did not really believe any of it. How could I believe that he was serious?! Mr. Cazares, he has a talent for drawing. Our conversation continued after lunch. I should say that I actually was in a begging mood and had hoped to go to his trailer at the construction site he was at. I offered to have sex with him there that very Monday during my lunch hour, but the bastard refused me! He wanted to tease me, to make me wait. Oh, how horny I was for him! What a fool I was turning out to be!

Instead of sex, he made me to be content for his dirty talks, and in the afternoon, he emailed me a drawing. It was a very accurate likeness of me made in pencil and colored inks of black and red, but in a most evil and sacrilegious pose he had me! I was naked, a brown full-figured slut sitting with my bare ass on the open bible that lies on the altar in front of the pastor’s pulpit. Little horns were protruding from my forehead. I had a devil’s tail. I had my thighs open wide to an extension of exaggeration, and I was fucking my pussy with a wooden cross. My head was turned to my left, and beside me was a satanic figure — a red demon with horns. He was very tall and he had a huge red, veiny cock.

I was holding the cock and sucking it, and semen was drooling down my chin, semen was dripping over my left breast, semen was dripping in liquid lines down my arm. I protested! Papi, I told Mr. Cazares, this is too nasty! How can you think of me in this way?! He laughed. He said, this is what I am doing to you. Get used to it, you horny bitch!

And I submitted again to him, pushing aside my moment of shock. Yes, papi, I said. Do it to me. Make me a she-devil whore. I meant it, but I thought I would be only his. I would be his private puta in a way similar to my relationship with my first boss those years ago. Only, Mr. Cazares was not my supervisor, he was something very different. I went home from work Monday in an agitated state. I was irritable with my family. All they demanded of me was a distraction and annoyances. I wanted to be with my new lover in the worst way.

I passed another long night next to my husband. As he snored, I turned in turmoil on my side of the bed. I touched myself and imagined again Mr. Cazares fucking me in the church closet. It was like this that I finally found sleep. I dreamed of a demon fucking me on the altar. I awoke still aching for cock. I was in a terrible state.

In the office on Tuesday, again I called Mr. Cazares.

I told him with determination, “I am going to your workplace at the lunch hour. I must see you. I can not wait more. Please, papi.”

He laughed and told me he was too busy. I begged. He laughed and demanded that I describe how it was that I should act if I go to him. I had to conjure for him sexual acts in detail. At first, I was timid and said simple things like I would suck his cock. But he wanted more and more details. He made suggestions. I must wear something sexy. I had come to work in my common work clothes. He said, get a miniskirt at the mall.

“Dress sexy, puta, if expect me to be hard for you.”

I hurried, leaving work early. I ran into the mall. I picked out a tiger print mini dress. It was tight and barely enough material to cover my ass. I put it on in the ladies restroom. I left the mall dressed like a puta and felt the hard stares of men of all ages. It was embarrassing. But I would bear their looks to please my man. I arrived at the construction site and drove up to the trailer of the site supervisor. Mr. Cazares shared offices their with a project manager and a few other men. I knew this much from our long conversations. I walked up the steps, feeling my rear sway more than I preferred. But this dress must be catching men’s eyes like honey to bees, I thought. I knocked on the door.

A man answered, “Come on in.”

It was not the voice of Mr. Cazares. I entered and there I was in a large room with a long table and two desks and three men. None were Mr. Cazares.

I asked, “Mr. Cazares, he has office here, yes?”

They smiled at me and one pointed down the hall. I entered a door with the name Cazares on it. And inside was Mr. Cazares at one of two desks. The other desk belonged to his secretary, but she was not there.

“We are alone?” I asked my lover, and obviously I was nervous and anxious to begin again our love making. I locked the door behind me. I smile at him and wiggled my hips, “You like my dress, papi?”

He licked his lips and nodded with approval. I stood up and walked around his desk. He sat on the other end of his desk and unzipped his pants.

“Show me what you are here for, baby,” he said.

I stroked his crotch. I squeezed the organ.

“Mmmm, your cock is nice, papi.”

I reach in for his penis. I bring it out. I bend over. I kiss his penis. I lick the dark meat of his loins. I open my mouth for my lover and I sucked him with my whole being radiant with desire for him. He relaxed on this day and left me to work at loving his cock in my mouth. I let my mind to be absorbed in the act of milking his cock with my lips, my tongue, my throat.

He whispered to me, “Si puta, asi puta.” (Yes whore, like this whore).

And when I would release his penis from my mouth to speak.

I wished only to say, “Soy puta solo por ti, soy tu putita,” (I am whore only for you. I am your little whore).

The clocked ticked. And I sucked in my rhythm. He reminded me every few moments that I was good to be with him in this way, that I was going to be a good whore. He excited me with his dirty talk to the point that I had to finger my clit while I sucked him. I was happy then! I was so happy to be in his presence, alone on his cock. He kept me at it for thirty minutes. I was impressed with his endurance. He had such great control. But the time came to use me in another way. He grabbed me by the neck and lifted me up to the desk. He made me to sit with my legs wide and on the edge so he could introduce his penis into my vagina. He took into his strong big hands my buttocks and made sweet motions inside me. He fucked me and I told him that I loved how he made me feel.

“I love it papi. I love it like this. I love how you make me feel. Nnnnn, yes papi. Fuck me. Am I your nena, your sweet baby?”

But he was cruel. He thrusted into me.

“No, my wife is my nena. You are a fine bitch, but you are just a dirty puta.”

I protested, “Ay no, papi. Please. Am I only that? Only that?”

He fucked me, and he disrespected me. And I accepted it all to be with him. How he made me crazy. He was a magnificent sex machine, fucking me so strong, so long. He made me cum on his grand fucking cock. He made me call myself a puta.

“Okay, papi. I am a puta. But I am your puta!”

“Si mi cochina perrita, (yes, my dirty bitch), that is what papi like to hear,” he responded, and he pushed me, he pushed into me, he was always pushing me with his strong body and his hard words.

He pulled out of me, but not until I was satisfied with the fucking I had received. I filled me with passion, he made me yearn to surrender to his will. I left his office happy with myself, happy with our arrangement. He could make me glow, oh, how I had inside me a fire. It was my constant preoccupation to find ways to sneak away to Mr. Cazares and open my dark thighs to him. I needed to prove always to him that I could bend to his will and keep him happy and hungry for me.

The weeks passed and every day I called him. Every day I fed my soul on the erotic descriptions he would spin. I was like a butterfly trapped in the web of his words. I wanted only to have him wrap around me tight and consume me. I was in love.

Oh my God, how I was in stupid, blind devotion to him — Three, four and sometimes five times a week — I would succeed to steal myself away to a place of convenience. In the first weeks, I was always going into his office to consummate our sexual acts. Oh, and I must say, those were the happiest times of my life as a sexual being. He completed me. He made me feel so many deep emotions. He took every part of me. How invasive a man can be.

The skull fuckings, the ass-to-mouth, the spankings, the hair pulling. We were animals! Sometimes, he would press me naked against the window of his office, my breasts pushed flat against the glass. His son was often about – that boy did not go to school much — and Mr. Cazares would make me to let the boy watch from outside the window, my lover fucking me from behind. The nasty boy — how scandalous, eh? — he stroke his penis in his pants and even push the head of his brown boy cock over the belt to show me he was engorged and seeping semen from the pleasure of watching his father use his puta.

But in all this, I was only Mr. Cazares whore. All the talk of my being a gangbang slut, of selling my body – it was just talk. I could see Mr. Cazares only wanted me for himself. I felt secure in my passion for him.

Then one night, our relationship changed. He pushed me into something of pure evil. We had been lovers then four months. And I must confess that by this point my soul was in a state of complete rebellion from reality. I was neglecting my daughters and my husband. I was becoming sloppy at work and incurring annoyance from my supervisors for my sloppiness and long phone conversations and long lunch absences. I wanted only to ride on Mr. Cazares cock and suck out of his balls his delicious thick milk. But one night we conspired to repeat our sexual act in the church. It was a Wednesday night service, which are services always poorly attended. I did not bring my daughters, and he did not bring his family.

After the service, we lingered. I talked with the pastor’s wife about a fundraiser and Mr. Cazares talked with the pastor about repairs to the building.

We were the last four, and when the pastor and his wife departed, I pretended to leave in my car and Mr. Cazares pretended to leave in his truck. But we both circled back to the church and parked in the back to avoid notice. He had obtained a key from the pastor and I embraced Mr. Cazares at the rear entrance.

“Uy papi!” I said, “We are so bad! I have yearned also to be joined with you in this sacred place.”

He kept reminding me in our weeks together of the evil picture of me on the altar. He drew me now to the altar. I tried to kiss him in front of the altar, but as always he pushed my lips from his face and I had to settle for kissing and licking at his chest. His hands rolled and squeezed and pinched at my ass and hips. I was in a black skirt that was just above my knees.

I was in a red blouse. I was wearing a black bra. I was not wearing panties at his request. I was in dark stockings that came to my upper thigh. I was in black high heels with leather ankle straps. He helped me out of my blouse and bra in front of the altar in the dark church. There was only one dim red light from the stage. We were in darkness except for the dim red glow.

I undid my skirt by myself. I stood before my lover only in stockings and high heels. I smiled to him and I embraced him.

I told him that I loved him, and he said to me, “Then you love Satan.”

I said, “No papi, I love you.”

“I am, in your case, the agent of Satan, and you are his puta if you are my puta,” he said.

He pulled from a pocket in his pants a Satanic pendant. It was a bronze demon’s head on a cord made of pig skin he told to me. I was of a rebellious heart, and I accepted the cord and pendant around my neck. The demon’s head rested on my heart.

“Kneel at your master’s feet, puta,” he said to me. I knelt. “Repeat after me and swear with all your heart: Amo solo a Satanas (I love only Satan).”

There was a lump in my throat. I felt myself at a crossroads. There was a silence. He caressed my hair. I felt my obedience to him certain. I then spoke in repetition.

“Amo solo a Satanas.”

“Will you fuck on the altar and desecrate it in the name of your master, puta?”

I smiled and felt as if I was the star of a horror movie.

“I will fuck on the altar and desecrate it in Satan’s name.”

“Take out your master’s cock and suck it, puta.”

I trembled in my whole body for what I was doing. The force of the sexual and spiritual taboos were so great that I could barely unzip his pants and hold in my hands his cock. I felt the demon move on my heart as I sucked his penis. I felt my condemnation. I felt completely committed to Mr. Cazares. I felt it so strong that I began to understand the seriousness of my situation. I heard in my head the voice of insanity say to me …  “I would do anything for this man.” It frightened me, but my inner dialog responded with a firm and rebellious, “I do not care!”

My heart toward God was as cold as the tile under my knees. I loved my master completely. I wanted only to please him. I sucked with more energy on Mr. Cazares’ cock and said to God … “You see what I want? You see how I need to pleasures of the flesh? You make it too hard on me, God. I must serve another!”

“I am pleased with you, puta. You are obedient to my will and I will reward you as you deserve. Get up and rest and stomach and tits on the bible of the altar.”

I stood and turned and bended my body. I rested my stomach over the edge of the wooden altar, the silk table cloth under the bible pressed to my lower abdomen. My naked tits pressed into the pages of the open sacred book and the demon’s head rested on the book and I felt deep inside my soul the laughing, laughing, laughing
to a wicked triumph over good. Mr. Cazares rustled behind me. I waited for him to penetrate me, but he took his time. And as he did so, I taunted him, shaking my ass for him and moaning for his cock. Then I felt him grab my left ankle in his hand. And I felt a prick.

“What is that, papi?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about it. It is too late, anyway,” he said.

I felt quickly a sudden rush of energy and euphoria and a jittery and profound sexual arousal.

“You put inside me a demon!” I cried.

I heard him unzip his pants. I was in a state of total obsession for his cock.

“Ay ay ayyyyy fuck me now papi, fuck me fuck me fuck me FUCK ME!”

He put the point of his cock at my pussy. He entered. He laughed as he began to fuck me.

“Cocaine will awaken your demons to their full power,” he said.

I was shocked. I was in the storm of overwhelming passions. Cocaine? I had never done drugs except for the occasional marijuana in high school. But it was true his words. My demons were in control. I cried for his cock constantly. I begged him to fuck me harder. I laughed at God in my loudest voice. I boasted of my love for Satan. And Mr. Cazares, always, with every stroke, demanding I confess and proclaim my devotion, my status as his whore, and as Satan’s whore. I was insatiable for cock. And Mr. Cazares’ cock was insatiable. How that organ moved inside me, thrusting and pushing me to wave after wave of squirting, fucking, screaming pleasure.

“Ay si, mi amor, mi querido Satanas, chingame con tu gran verga,” I cried (Oh yes, my love, my beloved Satan, fuck me up with your great cock).

I came, and my Satanic man fucked me more. His smooth, gently slapping testicles teasing my labia as his penis drove deep into my body, and his words wrapped my soul tighter and tighter inside the iron fist of his evil will. I began to improvise and volunteer my own phrases of devotion …

“I want only to serve you, master. I love you Satan. I love you with all my wicked heart. I am a cheating little bitch for you.”‘ And then I said it. I said it for the first time with all conviction, “I want to sell my body to whore mongers, for you Master, to please you!”

And to this, he said, “Yesssss!”

And his cock picked up the pace. He raced to spit semen into my womb. And as his cock ejaculated the thick milk into me he began to spank my ass cheeks and thighs with all his might. I was intoxicated with cocaine, yes, but that only accentuated my lust and the influence of my demon impressions. When Mr. Cazares was done moving inside of me, I rested over the altar, the sole of my high-heels again planted firmly to the tile. I felt the rush of cocaine subside. I felt my being drifting like a wrecked ship out of a storm. I felt moments of sobriety and moments of dread under the enormity of my sin.

I looked around in the darkness and pushed back at the fear. I stood, unsteady on my feet, and turned and smiled at my beloved tormentor.

“What now?” I asked.

“Funny you should ask, puta,” he said. He lowered himself to pick up my clothes from the floor. He said, “Walk out the back as you are.”

I walked in my nakedness to the back door and turned there to reach for my clothes. He refused to hand them over.

“Walk out naked, puta.”

I was shaken, and I begged, “Papi, don’t be mean.”

“I am not your papi. I am your Master. I own you, bitch.”

I felt now that this was enough of games. I insisted that he give me my clothes. He instead opened the door and pushed me outside. And there by the back door was his son.

“Lie on the grass and open your legs for the boy, puta,” he said to me in a voice that I had become familiar with; he was deadly serious.

I felt a moment of light headedness. I felt a moment of shame. Then I shrugged. What was fucking a minor in the grass compared to what I had done in the sanctuary. I lowered myself, and I sat on the grass, and I laid on my back and his boy chuckled and lowered his pants and knelt between my legs. The demon was still resting on my heart. I felt myself black and wicked and I felt the semen of Mr. Cazares in my wet pussy.

His boy aligned his body to mine with confidence. I could see he was already experienced. He penetrated into me with ease and began to fondle my right breast as he fucked me behind the church building. My back was wet with dew. My body was cold and hot. I felt nothing for the boy, but I shut my eyes and felt the pleasant stirrings of sexual intercourse. He pinched my nipple and I opened my eyes in response.

Mr. Cazares came to my side and knelt. I had a lump in my throat. What I was doing for him, no decent woman would ever do in a million years. He held on to a foolish hope that he had feelings for me. Mr. Cazares played with my other breast and then he held the demon head pendant in his hand and brought it to my lips.

“Lick the demon, kiss the demon.”

I licked the demon.

I kissed the demon.

I heard a laugh in my soul. I looked at the boy. He was deranged with lust, and he lunged into me with all his boyish strength. The boy grunted and cursed as he ejaculated into me.

“Nnnn, puta prieta, toma mi leche, te chingo mamacita.” (Nnnn, dark whore, take my semen, I fuck you up little mother).

I smiled and let a wave of wickedness flow through me. I clenched his cock with my hot, wet Latina pussy. I reached for the pendant and stared at the demon inches from my face as the boy continued to jerk and stroke inside me. I giggled, and then the giggle grew to a thick and husky laugh and I kissed again the demon. When the boy was finished, he pulled up his pants and reached for a back pocket. He pulled out money and rolled it into the shape of a skinny cigarette. He stuffed the money into my pussy. I reached for it and took the sticky bills apart. I had in my hands two twenties and a ten. Mr. Cazares looked at me.

“Your first client, puta. Now you’re in business.”

I laughed. I was no longer in doubts that it was not a joke. I looked forward, thinking it would be nasty fun to let Mr. Cazares prostitute me from time to time. As long as it was our little secret. But his intentions were more extreme. I did not realize his true ambition was to ruin me completely. He wanted to separate me from everything I held dear. He wanted a full time streetwalker. A time would come when it would not be enough for me to fuck and suck twenty men in a day, seven days a week.

THE END OF CHAPTER TWO