Feature Writer: Jason Lancing
Feature Title: THE SPANISH INQUISITORS 1
Published: 25.08.2021 / Mr Double Sex Stories
Story Codes: Nuns, Rape, Rituals
The Spanish Inquisitors 1
CHAPTER ONE
High rose colored clouds decorated the pale Andalusian sky like delicate lacework. A cool evening breeze caused the fields of maturing grain to wave lazily and cooled the men who worked the land. It was August 1936 and the air was filled with the aroma of healthy growing things.
From the hillock where she sat Senorita Dolores Margarita Arenillas took it all in and found it good. She wondered if anywhere in the rest of Spain there could be such beauty and tranquility. The very landscape was a tribute to God and an argument against atheists and His detractors.
Dolores gave a sigh of contentment and thanked God for this sight which eased her worried mind. But like all Spaniards she could not long ignore her troubled spirit. There was rebellion and war throughout her land. Only weeks ago the generals and their troops had risen against the Republican government.
The news was full of it. Daily she listened to the radio as the president tried to reassure the populace. But Queipo de Llano had captured nearby Seville and General Franco’s legionnaires and Moors had soon joined him. In the north the Fascists had already won a great deal of land.
How horrible it seemed to the beautiful fifteen-year-old senorita. Anything that disrupted God’s perfect harmony was anathema to the beautiful black-haired girl. Yet her father Don Adolfo Alberto was a staunch Carlist and therefore also vehemently opposed to the Republicans. Perhaps by now he had even joined the rebellion himself.
Immediately after the uprising he had left in excitement and dispatch for Pamplona. Beautiful Pamplona in far away Navarra which her father often spoke of and she had never seen. There the Carlists were strong and truly dedicated to “God, King and Country.” It was their noble slogan. With it on his lips he had left Dolores alone with her mother and her three sisters.
Remembering that dinner would be ready she got up and headed home. It was already to dark to see clearly and she had come several miles. Though all this land and much more was part of her father’s large estate it was not safe to be out by one’s self in times of revolution.
Walking along the crest of the hill she could see and hear a band of her father’s peasant field hands moving slowly in her direction. They were noisy and boisterous so that even from a distance she could tell they were drunk. She wondered why they were celebrating. It was not a holy day.
Dona Dolores quickened her step in hopes of avoiding them. Not that she was frightened-she knew all of them and was friendly with most. As a little girl she had played with them and their children. Only when she reached pubescence did her father force her to desert their company and assume her rightful position as a lady of the estate.
But she did not like to see them like this. The wine made their talk crude and the spoke only of women. The pious young girl would blush whenever she heard the way they talked about the girls in town.
As best she could she hurried on but her clumsy clothing retarded her speed. like her father Dolores loved the traditions of Spain and because she was so small and pretty and looked so very Hispanic, her family spared no expense in clothing her in rich old-fashioned dresses. But long skirts, voluminous petticoats and tight shoes had not been designed for rapid walking.
With mild vexation the fifteen-year-old realized she could not outdistance the peasants. One of them called out and she paused. Clumsy, sweaty and dirty the motley bunch approached, holding burning torches above their heads.
“What are you celebrating?” the girl asked politely of Juan whom she recognized first.
“We celebrate Spain,” broke in Leon instead, his voice slurred. He was walking beside Juan. “We celebrate a quick end to Fascism, the rise of Communism and the international brotherhood, and we celebrate ourselves as free men. Will you join us Senorita Arenillas?” he concluded drunkenly, offering her the filthy wineskin.
“Have the generals been defeated?” asked Dolores excitedly, ignoring Leon’s proposal. “Is the Republican government again secure?”
“No, but it soon shall be,” responded Juan this time. He too was obviously intoxicated. “We shall be when the workers in the fields join the workers in the factories. Workers of Spain unite!” he shouted, “and you shall lose your chains.”
“But you are free,” objected Dolores anxiously, trying to deny the reference to that odious Karl Marx.
“We are only free, Dona Dolores Margarita, to slave for your father’s profit. We are free to work his farm and to die-but not to be educated, to have land, to suffer abundance and to be truly men.”
The small girl was shocked and hurt. Never had she known Juan to speak so freely in her presence. And to say such things about her father who had always been so good to his peasants was outlandishly ungrateful.
“But most important is the right to make love,” broke in another, staggering up close enough for her to see him now. It was Antonio. He was a dear companion of her childhood. like herself he was a youth of only fifteen but already with several years experience in the fields behind him. “The freedom to love who and how we please,” he continued.
Dolores stared at him. He was the most handsome of the bunch and thankfully the least drunk. And he was her friend. She could talk to him.
Yet something seemed wrong. He was fumbling at his crotch hastily. Perhaps he had an unexpected pain or had been hurt. She bent forward to look more closely. There seemed to be a large strange strip of flesh hanging loosely from his unbuttoned fly. Then suddenly she realized what it was.
Dolores spun about quickly and turned her back to the hideous sight. Her face burned with shame. How could he-her childhood friend-do such a thing to her, a pure and virgin good Catholic young girl? There would come a day-the night before her marriage-when her embarrassed father or their priest would ask her if she had ever seen a man’s organ. How humiliated she’d be to have to answer “yes.”
“What’s wrong, Senorita?” laughed Antonio loudly and mischievously. “Did you not think us peasants real men?
Look and see that we are.”
“Antonio, please,” the brunette spoke crisply, “put it back and say no more about it. You insult me.”
“Insult!” countered the youthful laborer angrily. “Is it an insult to see a common man’s only valuable possession? I am proud of my cock. Look at it!”
Without warning he grabbed the teenager by her long black hair and spun her about, forcing her to her knees. Dolores was too stunned to either cry out or protest. She found herself trembling as she stared at the huge snake now only inches from her face.
Never had she seen anything so ugly or vile. Even in the torchlight it was a sickly white, covered with slime and jutting out six inches hard and straight from the slot in his trousers. Yet even in her shock she was amazed at how large it seemed. She wondered how men could carry such a big rod between their legs without it showing in the crotch. She concluded Antonio’s must be abnormally large, a mutation.
“Do you like it, Dona Dolores?” he persisted, twisting her hair behind her head until it hurt. “Answer me. Is it not as fine as a nobleman’s? Is it not as thick as your father’s and brothers’? Does it not stand as firm and erect as a priest’s?”
“It’s disgusting,” spit out the tiny brunette “and so are you. I have never seen a man’s privates before. You degrade me.”
“Never seen a prick before,” laughed the youthful man boisterously, “never before? Perhaps we should call you Dona Prude. Or Senorita Pura.”
“Please,” she gasped in confusion. “I should not see such things. I am too young. Let me go and I promise to say nothing to my father.”
“Too young,” chortled the drunken Leon, unbuttoning his own pants, “you are all of fifteen. I fucked my first whore when I was twelve and so did Antonio. It is time you learned. Tonight we shall teach you.”
Juan watched all of this hesitantly. For centuries his fathers had served this girl’s fathers. He knew nothing but to respect the aristocracy and especially the wealthy landowner Don Adolfo Alberto Arenillas. Yet it was time the haughty nobility learned that he and his fathers too were human. He made no move to protect his patron’s daughter.
Behind him the crowd looked on intently. Some watched with Antonio’s pride, other copied Leon in his drunkenness and a few like Juan were frightened and meek.
“Please,” they all heard her beg, “please just let me go Antonio. I must get home.” Tears began to fill the tiny girl’s eyes. She was confused but she sensed the situation was serious.
Leon shoved his trousers to his knees and exposed himself brazenly to her. His prick also stuck out straight at her and it too was large, perhaps even longer than Antonio’s. And in the flickering of the many lights she could see there was some hideous wrinkled growth hanging down behind it. It looked like a sack of dead skin holding two large rocks.
“Aren’t you ashamed to show it in public?” the fifteen-year-old whispered to Leon alone, staring at his testicles. “It’s ugly. You should go to a doctor and have it removed. My father would advance you the money.”
“Advance me the money,” bellowed the filthy peasant in delight, “Loan me the money to be castrated. I’m sure he would, Dona Prude.. And all the rest of us too-to have our proudest part cut off.”
Dolores glanced about her helplessly. She had meant well. With tear blurred eyes she looked to Juan’s crotch and to two or three others she could see. To a man they also had huge bulges in their pants. It was strange she had never noticed such things before but always she had faithfully kept her eyes from lingering on that part of a man’s body.
The long-haired brunette thought of her father and brothers. In their tailor-made suits they could not have hidden such abnormalities. This huge deformity in them simply did not exist. Perhaps this was the real difference between nobility and peasants-in the size of their penis. That way even naked they could be told apart. The naive girl had never heard of an erection. She was sure the organs of aristocrats must be unoffensively small, modestly hidden, regularly bathed and perfumed.
Antonio twisted her hair harder, forcing her gaze to remain on their pricks. Yet it was not necessary, for the naive teenager was unconsciously transfixed by this brazen display of cock. She could no longer take her eyes off of them. But the pain in her head was increasing, intruding into her thoughts. Dolores suddenly realized she had to quickly get away.
“Please, Juan,” she began, addressing herself to the more discreet of the three, “please help me. You have always served my father honestly. You are older and wiser than the rest. Talk to them. Help me get back to my mother and sisters.”
“Yes, old wise one,” snickered Leon impudently, “can’t you get it up anymore? Make your choice. Will you fight to free her and escort her back to safety?”
“No,” spoke the man softly after a moment’s thought and hesitation.
“Then will you join us, Comrade, in ravishing this little virgin piece of nobility?”
Juan’s eyes shifted nervously back and forth between the oily face of Loen and the frightened weeping young girl. Could he throw himself in the face of centuries of Spanish tradition? Rape his superior’s daughter? But already men were dying in the streets of Madrid and Seville for him, for his right to deny history.
“Yes,” he said at last. “I will rape her too.”
“Rape!” gasped the tiny child. The word shot through her head like a thunderbolt. The gravity of the situation overwhelmed her. She had to escape. Ignoring the pain she wrenched herself free of Antonio’s grasp.
She began to run. Kicking off her shoes she sped through the night, lungs bursting with exertion. She glanced over her shoulder. They were a scant six feet behind.
Dolores pushed on through the soft earth and grass. Home was still miles away. Again she looked back. They were just as close and hardly exerting themselves. Instead the whole bunch was laughing, jeering, singing. The wine passed freely from hand to hand.
She realized they were only playing with her. They could catch her at any time. Her only salvation was God. Fervently she began to pray.
“Oh Mother Mary,” the child chanted to the rhythm of her pounding feet. “Save me. I am your child. I have been good. My thoughts have been pure. Please help … oh, oh, oh,” she grunted as strong arms circled her and squeezed away her breath.
She fell with the heavy weight on her back. Dolores felt pain as viciously he twisted her on her back. It was her childhood friend Antonio again. Instinctively she fought but she was too small and frail for his strong arms.
“No, Antonio, no,” she cried as he straddled her. There were eleven pearl buttons down the front of her heavy dress and she plead with him pathetically as slowly he opened each one.
“No, no, my friend,” she argued tearfully. “Why do you do this to me? Aren’t we friends anymore? Antonio, stop.”
The fifteen-year-old glanced down to see that her dress was being spread wide. Her graceful neck and throat were bared. Already they could see her bra-a thick one strapped tight so that it would squeeze her breasts flat and de-emphasize her bust. She moaned in humiliation. Antonio said nothing, nor did he stop.
The cool Andalusian wind touched her stomach through her thin chemise. It meant she was unbuttoned, her dress spread open to her waist. The breeze had comforted her earlier. Now it sent chills up and down her spine.
Dolores looked up in wide-eyed disbelief at her former playmate. His young face was handsome, but filled with lust and greed. He had been a cherished friend, always so courteous and polite, willing to obey her every order and anticipate any capricious whim. Now he hurt her, degraded and shamed her.
She had known him as a clean and thoughtful little peasant boy. But now he was a man who stunk of sweat, dirt and sour wine. That ugly thing that had grown between his legs had transformed him. Through her thin slip she felt his hands stroke sensually over her flat tummy, stopping to embrace her tiny waist. His palms were calloused and rough and there was cruel strength in his fingers.
“Oh Mother Mary,” she began to weep into the night, “oh God our Father hear me and save me. I am pure. Don’t let them defile my body.”
“God is busy talking with General Franco tonight,” sneered Antonio, looking down at her with contempt. He began slowly to slip the dress off her shoulders as he talked. “You see, God needs their help. In Barcelona they had already fired the churches. The priests and nuns have burned in them or run into the streets to be shot and raped.”
“You are Satan,” she shouted at him passionately, “you are Lucifer himself. You are hatred and cruelty and lust and … and…..”
“And man. More than anything else I am a man, Dona Dolores. And your cunt makes you a woman.”
“Oh don’t use such language, Antonio,” she begged, blushing at the vulgar word. “Think, Antonio. You are degrading us both. Pray to God before it is too late. Stop now.”
“My God is no longer your God, Dolores Margarita.”
“You have forsaken Him?”
“He has already forsaken us-the common man, the workers, the peasants. Centuries ago he forsook us. And now we march in a different army and we have captured one of his soldiers: you. You who have kept your cunt as a holy temple dedicated to spiritual love.
“But the love you will feel there now will not be God’s love but mine. It will be my prick crushing into your pussy, breaking open the gates and reaming you wider. And then will come Juan and Leon and all the rest of us time after time until our balls are dried and withered. You will know the love of mankind.”
“Oh no, no, no, no,” screamed the petite child hysterically, trying to squirm away. Violently she dug her fingernails into his arms but he only laughed at her struggles. He was right. There would be no salvation for her tonight.
“Let me help,” broke in Leon, impatient with all the talk. His fingers clutched at her dress and together they jerked it down her arms. United they held her legs and pulled the heavy skirt and stiff petticoats off of her pretty legs.
The teenager squirmed and begged, bit and scratched in vain. She slmost strangled as they pulled the chemise up rudely over her head. When she was naked except for bra and panties they lifted her to her feet in front of the lascivious crowd.
“And now the grand unveiling,” shouted Leon to them with a triumphant grin.
“No, please, please,” she begged, peering into the darkness beyond the flickering torches. “Please. We are friends. I have done nothing to any of you. I beg you. I am only fifteen. Leave me my virtue.”
“You are the daughter of Don Adolfo,” called one of the spectators venomously. “You are an Arenillas. You have inherited the sins of your forefathers and now you shall pay.”
“Yes, strip her,” shouted another. “She is Senor Arenillas’ favorite child. Let us see what kind of jugs and cunts aristocrats have.”
Deftly Antonio grabbed her wrists and held her arms immovable behind her back. With a leer Leon fumbled at the hooks of her bra. The child was shaking violently, her pretty face contorted with tears.
“Oh no please … , ” she began to beg again when suddenly the cool breeze of evening slid up under her jutting breasts, whipped over her frightened pebbly nipples and engulfed her trembling boobs. Never had her precious cones known either evening breeze or day’s warming sun. No eyes had ever feasted on them nor did her own hands ever touch them without reverence. They were holy, consecrated to God to be shared only with some future husband.
“Oh noooo,” moaned Dolores in a low almost inhuman voice of torment. “Oh God, I am undone. I am shamed. I am humiliated.” Then she fell silent.
The crowd too was quiet. There was not a man who laughed or sighed or joked. They stood there staring at the young child with bowed head and bared breasts. At last it was Juan who spoke.
“We did not realize, Senorita,” he began respectfully, “that your mounds would be so beautiful, such perfect upright cones. Truly they are meant for some superior man. Nor did we realized that they would be so large on someone so small. Did it not hurt to crush them so flat against your body with that heavy bra?”
“Yes,” she murmured humbly, eyes on the ground, “yes it hurt. Always. But it was my duty not to tempt the children of God.”
“Ha,” broke in Leon now, destroying the solemnity. “You would have been raped long before now had we known. But you have only postponed the moment. Who’s first to fuck her, to take her cherry?”
“Let it be Antonio. She says he is her friend.” The speaker was hidden by the darkness but he laughed loudly and his merriment infected the crowd. Again they were jesting and shouting, passing the wine from hand to hand.
“Gladly I’ll perform the service,” answered the young boy, looping his fingers about the top of her panties. Dolores twisted and squealed as she tried to avoid him but with Leon’s help they pulled her last clothing to the ground and left her naked.
Grabbing her wrists again, Antonio forced her to walk through the crowd so all could see. The tiny girl stumbled and staggered as she was shoved about rudely. Tears streamed down her pretty face.
“Please, oh someone help me,” she continued to moan piteously. “Please God. Someone. I am only fifteen. I am virgin. Please someone. Only fifteen. Only fifteen.”
Anonymous arms reached from the darkness and found her breasts and twat. She felt sweaty calloused hands rub over her well shaped bottom, down her thighs, on her nipples. They squeezed, pinched and pulled them. Dolores was sick to her stomach. She felt strong fingers grab her pussy and squeeze hard.
“No don’t,” she cried, “this is not for you. My body is not for you.”
“It is for all of us,” countered a low voice from the crowd. “We have liberated your body for the people,” added another.
“We will all have you, Dona Dolores,” taunted someone nearby.
“Rape her, Antonio,” called another, “Let the fucking begin.”
In response her childhood friend shoved her to the ground and twisted her on her back. The torchbearers gathered around him so all could see. The petite brunette looked up at him with eyes filled with fear and disbelief. She breathed heavily through parted lips.
“Please, Antonio, my friend…,” she begged once more in a timorous whisper.
With unnecessary force the boy spread her slender legs wide. Leering at her triumphantly he knelt between them and shoved his trousers to his knees. The girl’s whole body shook violently in fright and humiliation.
“This ground is your bridal bed, Dolores,” muttered Antonio hoarsely, “and this is your wedding procession. We are going to all marry you. From now on your pussy will serve all mankind.”
The worker held her down with a strong hand against her shoulder. With the other he guided his wavering cock. She strained to look down at it, hideous red and white in the firelight. The teenager saw the fat bulb on the end approach and she felt a pressure against her most private opening.
“Noooo,” she began to wail in openmouthed hysteria. “Nooo. Nooo. Nooo.” Her voice filled the still night air. It echoed through the valleys of her father and pierced the ears of his workers. “Nooo. Nooo. Nooo,” she screamed.
Antonio moved his fat knob slowly up and down the length of her gash. Dolores’ slit was almost invisible, still so very thin without any bulge of pussy lips. He took his fingers and opened the petals so his cock could touch the warm coral.
“Nooo. You are not my husband,” she cried. The girl felt the cool air touch the opening to her temple, felt the hot prod tease along her crack. Neither she nor any man or woman had ever spread open her quim. It had never been seen or touched by anyone.
“Oh God help me,” she began to pray loudly. “I am ready to die. God save me. I am your child. I’m faithful and virgin. God save me. Take me while I am still whole and pure. God please hear me. Take my life while body and soul are pure.”
Antonio paused for a moment and cocked his head as if listening. “I don’t hear anything, Dona Delores. Your God has given you over to us.” The crowd broke into mocking laughter.
Then decisively he placed both hands tight about her pelvis, holding her like a vise. The moment had come. He angled her up to his prick and shoved. The child’s hymen was tough and her hole pencil small. He couldn’t break through and again he shoved unsuccessfully. Frustrated he began to pound, twist and bore his stiff pecker between her thin immature lips.
“No, no. God what is he doing? Help me. Save me before it is too late. God save me.”
With another gigantic thrust he felt something give, a slight tearing. There was a warm moistness of blood. But his prick head was not even nearly inside.
Under him Dolores screamed and twisted crazily. The mixture of pain, sin and humiliation had driven her mad. Her delicate shoulders rolled frantically on the grass, her head tossing wildly as she shrieked pathetically into the night. Her perfect boobs jumped, swung and pitched as they were violently propelled by her writhing body.
But the laborer did not stop. Rotating his hips he methodically bored his huge dick into the tiny entrance to her love cave. The youth was stimulated by her cries and pleas for help. Her weeping inspired him. His ruddy prod grew even thicker as he saw her toss and twist painfully beneath him.
He was succeeding. He was actually screwing Senor Arenillas’ beautiful untouchable virgin. The workers would succeed. He knew it now. Together the comrades would fuck the patricians.
The hurt from the fifteen-year-old’s ripped hymen had been only the beginning. It increased steadily as the fat knob pushed at her narrow opening. Her crotch was alive with fire. It was the entry of his fat bulb through the tiny hole, the stretching and tugging at the taut pink flesh that sent spasms of pain now through her body. Her only escape was prayer, but God did not answer.
“Aeee, ah, ahhhh,” she called as she felt her quim being split agape. He would tear her legs apart with his abnormally huge cock. “I am an aristocrat,” she screamed at him desperately. “I am not built to take a peasant’s organ. My temple is to small for a peasant’s thing.”
“She is too good for us,” shouted someone watching. “Fuck her hard, Antonio. Show her she is not too good. Make her pay.”
Straining every muscle, legs, and back tensed to add strength to his probing dong he shoved with all his strength. Dolores screamed wildly and then it was in. The knob had passed the little entry way. Blood was everywhere, spraying out of her hole with his last push.
Antonio laughed triumphantly. He was overjoyed with his success. Dona Dolores was delirious with pain and fear beneath him. Never had he seen a woman so abjectly pathetic. Even the slaughter animals of the farm did not seem so dejected as she. How precious her virginity must have been.
The teenager was locked to his cock. Her whole body quaked as she looked up at him in shock and horror. But the pain was not quite so bad now though her cunt hole was stretched tight. It felt as if a huge orange lay inside her. She was nauseous.
But Dolores knew it had just begun. The tiny girl whimpered as he bent forward and placed his arms tightly about her, holding her. She felt his hairy chest press against her breasts, crushing them and causing her tingling nipples to ache.
Dolores felt as if his cock was permanently joined to her. Every movement of his body was transmitted through his pecker into herself. She grunted as slowly he began to rotate his hips again. He was screwing the spear deeper into her and once more he hurt her virgin twat.
The little five foot girl breathed heavily as he worked his peter in deeper, pulling and stretching the tender cunt flesh. She was numb from shock and it helped keep her from the pain. But her honor was lost forever, her future destroyed. No longer could she look her father or brothers in the eye. She could never marry.
Antonio felt her little light body trembling in his arms. She sniffed and whimpered but she did not now scream or protest. The boy was proud of what he had done. But it had only just begun and she had already quit struggling and pleading. He had a sudden urge to hurt her and make her suffer.
The lad paused for a moment. His pecker was no larger than average but he knew that to her tiny unused quim it felt monstrous. And it was not even halfway in. With one unexpected lunge he drove himself to his nuts in her unprotected twat.
“Aeeee, ha, ha, oh Gooood,” screamed little Dolores. Suddenly all the thoughts of remorse and shame were driven from her mind. All that was real was the fiery pain jetting up from her cunt. He tightened his arms about her until she could hardly breathe.
Vigorously Antonio began to pound his prick full length into her. Under him she twisted, shook and shrieked inhumanly. She had never known such pain. Greedily the boy kept hammering rapidly into her, relishing her loud cries of misery.
“Ae, oh, oh, haaa, haa, haaaa,” shouted the child, face contorted in agony. The crowd cheered and applauded as they watched. They were happy with Antonio. He was revenging them well.
The dull ache in Dolores’ nipples had also turned to pain. The chafing of his rough body against the tender over-sensitive swollen tips made them burn like fury. Her whole body was on fire, lit by the flames in her tits and cunt.
She prayed to her Lord, helplessly begged Him for salvation. And perhaps this time He had heard her. It seemed that maybe her body had relaxed a little, was able to withstand the driving fucking tempo. The heat in her twat and jugs had diffused throughout both soul and body. Nor did the violent raping spear now hurt as much as it tore into her. She could feel that some creamy substance had formed on her pussy and lubricated her attacker’s entrance. God in His infinite wisdom and mercy had sent an oil for her tortured cunt.
“Oh bless You,” she moaned in thanksgiving. “Thank you.” From a distance she heard God answer a welcome. She was having a mystical experience-talking directly to God Himself. “Thank You thank You God, thank You,” she continued.
“You’re welcome,” repeated Antonio, plowing his spear violently into her furrow. He too was aware her whole body, twat and all, was now responding to him. It did not matter if she was no longer in pain. To bring her to an orgasm by his rape would be her final degradation.
Thank You, God, thank You,” the child continued to chant, loudly enough for all to hear.
“You’re welcome, Dolores, so welcome,” responded Antonio increasing his tempo.
“I have loved You since I was a little child. I have been pure for You, my Lord. I have always loved You.”
“And I have always wanted to fuck you. Fuck you even when we were kids.”
“Yes love me. I want You to keep loving me,” murmured the long-haired brunette. “Love me since we were kids.” God had protected her after all. In this moment of pain and crisis He had spread a warm dark blanket over her. She felt good. Her whole body was alive and tingling. She could feel Him rocking her in His strong arms. “Oh love me!”
“FU fuck you. Fuck you and fuck you and fuck you.”
“Oh yes, yes,” responded the child, her mind swimming and confused by the enormity of God’s love. “Fuck me,” she answered Him, “fuck me and fuck me, Lord.”
“Faster now,” Antonio challenged, beginning to heave and twist his butt with dizzying speed. “Faster and harder,” he said into her ear, pounding his prick furiously into her bleeding cunt. “Do you want it harder?”
“Yes, yes, Lord. Harder. Fuck me harder.” Her twat arched up now to meet his balls, her ass twisting violently to match his screwing. Her slender legs locked around his holding him tight. She crushed her breasts to him till they were hard against his chest. “Yes, harder, God. Fuck me harder.”
The crowd watched gleefully as the two fifteen-year-olds squirmed on the ground. Never had they seen a girl humped so vigorously and receive it so eagerly. They rejoiced to hear her virgin lips begging her God and Savior to fuck her harder and harder.
“Oh yes, yeeeees,” she screamed at last, throwing her arms tight about Antonio and digging her nails into his back. Her ass screwed and twisted insanely. Heedlessly she pounded her cunt up and down the length of his hard prick. The girl’s body had exploded in orgasm.
“Yes God, fuck me. I’m in ecstasy. Ecstaseeee. God fuck meeee. I’m in heaven. Heaveeeeen.”
But Antonio pulled himself to a complete stop though his balls were about to burst. He held himself still while Dolores continued to explode and impale her twat on his prod. Grabbing her by the long hair of her head he held it still and slapped her sharply three times across the face.
Dolores stared up at him in wide-eyed shock. Her whole body had come to a stiff standstill. She didn’t even breathe. Comically, grotesquely she hung from his crotch, her weight supported on her shoulders and twat fully planted on his spear.
“But where is He?” she asked weakly in a little girl’s voice. “Where did God go? He was here loving me.”
“Fucking you,” sneered the boy triumphantly. “You were begging God to fuck you. But it is me you were begging. I was fucking you!”
“Loving me?”
“Fucking you!”
The child looked at him in disbelief. Then turned her head to see the men watching them. They were laughing.
“You kept begging me to fuck you harder and harder. And I did,” reported the laborer nastily.
“Oh noooo,” she moaned loudly, breaking into uncontrollable sobs. “It was God I asked. Not you. You tricked me.”
“It was me. You begged me and you fucked me back. You fucked me back hard Dona Dolores. You love fucking me. Senorita Dona Dolores Margarita Arenillas, you loved fucking me, begged for more and fucked me back.”
“No, no, oh noooo,” wailed the little brunette miserably. Her shame was complete. Both body and soul had been raped, defeated and degraded.
“And you’re going to continue, Senorita,” he chuckled maliciously. “And you are going to keep coming knowing it is me and begging me for it.”
With that he heaved himself forward, burying the huge prod between the hot moist petals of her cunt. Frantically he humped her now, using every trick he knew to excite her body. His hands were all over her body and breasts, pulling, pinching and massaging them.
“No, no, nooo,” Dolores moaned and whined under him, aware in every part of her body that she was being ravished. She tried to resist, but even the naive girl knew it was useless. The pure child recognized that he had made her come. It made no difference that she had deluded herself it was God. A stinking mere peasant had balled her and she had let him bring her to an orgasm.
And even worse she liked it. She had loved it then and even now in the midst of her humiliation she liked the feel of that fat sausage pounding into her quin. Something had changed in her twat. She enjoyed-needed that fat prod banging into it. And that beautiful tension was rising again rapidly, undeniably. But this time she knew it was not her Lord but the filthy drunken field hand Antonio that she was letting fuck her.
“Oh no, no Antonio,” she murmured one last time, “don’t make me do it again. Don’t.” But she knew it was too late even if he had stopped. Spontaneously her trim legs locked behind his raging bottom. She pressed her naked breasts tight against him. She kissed his neck.
Dolores knew she was deliberately jerking her twat up to meet him now, relished his huge mushroom inside her. She wanted those hairy balls slapping against her bared ass. She was shameless in her need.
“Oh fuck me,” she whispered in his ear, sweat beginning to pour off her body as she eagerly screwed him back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” said the girl, never before having used the word. “Fuck, fuck, fuck me hard. Hard, Antonio. Fuck me hard.”
Then unexpectedly his wild heaving stopped. He held himself rigid, though she felt his whole body trembling. She could sense some wild primitive rhythm beginning to build up inside him and felt his huge prod seem to grow larger, stretching her torn cunt painfully.
She had no idea what was going to happen but instinctively she knew it would be wonderful. No one had ever told her a word about sex. Breathlessly now the child waited for the new revelation.
Then immediately she cried out loudly, jerking uncontrollably up to meet him. Her whole body exploded in orgasm. Her grotto was filled with a new heat, a flame of lust and love that was shooting from Antonio’s blessed cock. It seared her, tormented her with its rhythmic splashing incessant fire and sent her again into ecstasy.
“I’m coming,” gasped the boy, his voice strained from his violent exertion. “I’m coming. I’m coming.”
So that was the word she needed. “Coming.” That’s what they were doing together. They were coming.
“Ae yesss, Antonio,” she screamed, “me too. Me coming too. Fuck me, Antonio. Fuck me. Come in me. Keep me coming. Fuck me. Keep it coming in my temple.”
Together they rolled on the ground as Dolores climaxed repeatedly. She could not stop. Nor would she be quiet. To the joy of her peasant audience the teenager cried out her ecstasy for all to hear. Their bodies tossed recklessly on the grass, dirty and stained, until at last their spasms ebbed and they came to a halt.
Dolores rested under him quietly, eyes closed and smiling with satisfaction. But then the tiny girl frowned and opened her lids. She looked first at Antonio and then at the crowd. A look of horror crossed her face.
“My God! What have I done?” she said in complete mortification. “My God what have I done?”
“You have just been fucking,” laughed Antonio, pulling his cock out of her rudely and without any show of tenderness. “You’ve just been fucking me and climaxing yourself.”
“But I did not mean to,” she protested meekly.
“But you did, Senorita Prude. You did it and you loved it. And you were a good piece of tail, a real fine fuck. You did love it, didn’t you, Dona Dolores Margarita? Be truthful.”
“Yes,” she whispered contritely, beginning to blush furiously. “I did love it. But I must go to Church immediately and make confession.” The child started to get up to leave but she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. It was Leon. She looked up at him questioningly.
“Haven’t you forgotten something, Senorita?” asked the drunken laborer with a sneer.
“But what?” she responded in genuine confusion. “What else do you want of me? You have already let Antonio spoil me and make me come.”
“Yes, Antonio. But how about the rest? There are at least a dozen more of us.”
A look of disbelief and horror crossed her face. She glanced at the crowd around her. All of them had their peters out and in their hands and some had even taken off their pants. Wide-eyed she looked back up at Leon.
“But surely you can’t ask me to do it for everyone,” she gasped.
“We are not asking you,” he hissed maliciously. Meaningfully he pressed her down again flat upon the damp grass, hovering over with his cock in hand. Breathing heavily Dolores lay back without protest, stupefied, like some ritual lamb about to be slaughtered.
One after another they humped her. There was Leon, then Juan and then the rest. And then again there was Antonio, again Leon, again Juan. Towards dawn there was another round in which most took part.
Dolores was in shock. She was unaware of all the pain and degradation. Only vaguely she realized a sense of guilt before her God. Later she had only fleeting memories of all that occurred after Antonio’s and Leon’s first rapes. Her mind had buried most of it in her subconscious.
She did remember that in her hysteria it had seemed humorous to her that the dry ground under her had turned to mud from all the spent jism flowing from her cunt. As the stars faded two men had helped her walk to a nearby sewage ditch and as they did so she thought it comic that their come kept flooding out of her quim and running down her legs. She had laughed deliriously at that.
And it was hysterically funny that she could remember the number of times she’d been raped-thirty-three in all but not remember the names of all the men who did it. And later she could clearly picture in her mind the men taking her to the sewage ditch and throwing her in, right on top of a pile of shit. And they had stood above her, cocks in hand and pissed on her. She had giggled like a little girl delighted as she felt the warm streams of urine stream over her.
Dolores had slept in the ditch until nearly noon. Painfully she had gotten up and returned to the place of her rape. Her clothes were torn, dirty and spoiled but she put them on. She could not walk about the countryside naked.
Legs stiff and her cunt burning like fire she resolutely headed for the little nearby town. It was closer than home and there was a Guardia Civil station. The Civil Guard would help her.
THE END OF CHAPTER ONE