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Provided By: www.bdsmlibrary.com Synopsis: The girl has always dreamed of becoming a lawyer and as such has previously been a quiet but excellent student. After her father is off to a remote & dangerous part of the country, the virgin girl gets raped, and soon finds out that the more abuse & humiliation that is heaped upon her, the hotter & hornier she gets, and soon becomes a big pain slut taking on all comers allowing her tormentors to do the most perverse and painful things to her, not to mention all the gang bangs that she goes through. This is an original work of adult literature.

If you are under 18 years of age, read no further. If you are a pious self-righteous adult burdened by a repressive religious upbringing and sexual hang-ups too numerous to count, then you too should pass. This work may be copied for personal use and enjoyment, ONLY.

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Reposting on any pay sites is forbidden without the expressed permission of the Author at: toryu88@hotmail.com It is a work of fiction. The seed of the story came from BlackDemon's 'Church' series, which landed in my fertile mind and grew like a weed as I added more details and embellishments.

This work contains f_M+, Domination, Con/NC sex, slavery, prostitution, beast, bondage, interracial, masochism, sadism, breast torture, piercing, large breasts, and whatever else comes to mind. Feel free to offer comments and suggestions at the above email.

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 Corumba 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.

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 decended 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. U He Ace Keygen Mac Download. 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 5'7' 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. 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 crevass 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.

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 rasberries. 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. Her 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 fulness 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 washhouse. Chapter 5 The day was purgatory.

The attractive teen had spent her time bent over the wash and rinse tubs and carried wood to feed the fire for heating the wash water. All the while she and Maria had to fight off the unwelcome advances of Conquistador, the large black mastiff mix. His cold wet nose seemed to be everywhere to her embarrassment, but amusement of everyone else. While Maria seemed moved at all by the dogs advances, Rachel burned with shame at the thought that his interest was fueled by the musky smell of the guilty secretions of her drooling vagina.

The old man had introduced her to his son, Tahio, he was her age but a near retard of hulking proportions for an oriental teenager. Taller than the Padre, but not as heavily built due to his youth. The dumb slack jawed look of the teenager, was accentuated by the drool that seemed to perpetually wet his chin. Rachel felt profound sympathy for the boy, as he was worked like a dog by his father.

His barefoot hulking form shuffling about from one task to another. Once in a gush of sympathy, the thought had entered her mind in that under different circumstances she.but she caught herself in disgust having to turn away as the youth grinned at her, his tongue probing at a string of green snot that cascaded from his left nostril. My god, she thought, what has my father gotten me into. Forgotten for an instant were the noble and charitable reasons for her being here. She lost herself in a torrent of self pity. Broken down under the heat and filth of the day, she suddenly fought back tears.

The memory to her carnal display and the betrayal by her body was fresh in her mind. 'Our father who art in heaven.' She prayed under her breath, trying to fight back the rush of pity, disgust, and filthy thoughts that fought for her attention. The buzz of her clit and the continuous burning in her breasts and nipples was fought back when she pinched herself fiercely on the inner thigh. She kept from drowning in self pity by looking at Maria her workmate. Maria was a mestizo, or Castilian indian mix.

She was older than Rachel in her early 20's and was very attractive. Her thick black hair accented her flawless light brown skin and was worn similarly to Rachel's, pulled back in defense of the pervasive heat. She was full breasted for an indian with large and dark aureoles and nipples typical for her skin coloring. Rachel noticed that she had what the men crudely referred to as 'la colon grande', the large ass typical of most indian women. The young woman carried herself as if beaten down, standing in her dirty bare feet, her true height obscured by the down trodden posture she maintained.

Rachel saw that she never lifted her eyes to the old man and did as she was told. The girl wore the typical loose fitting native garb; a rude calf length dress of loose weave off-white cotton, held close at the waist by a rope or belt. The front 3/4 of the dress held closed by wooden buttons.

Rachel had realized early that it was cooler and more practical than the close fitting blouse and she wore. The old man had given a similar dress to wear, which she had donned to replace her ruined blouse and shorts which had become a filthy mixture of powdered soap, soot and dirt. She found that the dress was not so transparent when wet from her time at the wash tub.

The two young women did not talk, but only conversed as their tasks demanded. During the day Rachel caught glances several livid welts across the top of her ample breasts and the glint of light on metal before the young woman changed position or pulled her blouse closed. Her movements were always accompanied by metallic tinkling of what sounded like little bells.

As she bent over the wash basin arms in the water up to her elbows, time seemed to pass as in fog of boredom and humidity. As her thoughts wandered her peripheral vision caught movement behind her. The dog, she told herself, and prepared for the inevitable assault with a wet nose.

Rachel froze as she felt the hem of her dress lift and fleeting touch of something against her inner thigh. Simultaneously she felt something push her in the upper back causing her to have to catch the other side of the wooden basin to keep her balance.

Jerking her head to the left and over her shoulder she was met by the leering grin of the old man standing at her left hip. His left hand was firmly planted in the middle of her upper back clenching a fist full of her cotton dress. His right hand was busy beneath the lower hem of her dress, his bony fingers worming like a blade between her firm thighs. Rachel was too off balance to offer much resistance, her upper body hanging over the water filled basin, her hands clutching the far side, the near side cutting into her narrow hips. Fighting to regain her balance she moved her feet, this only allowed the old man greater access to her inviting crotch. Rachel's mind reeled as she looked to the left in Maria's direction only to see her disappearing into the rear of the shop.

Fighting the increasing pressure against her back, she felt the old man's bonny fingers digging through the thin blonde curls fringing her labia. The plump soft lips of her outer labia were no match for the insistent probing. She looked to the right with a frightened and questioning look only to to get a silently evil grin that exposed the man's rotting teeth. 'You have been wanting this, senorita, hei?' He hissed, his rancid breath assaulting her delicate nostrils. 'You are wet like del rio, how you say, like a river', he said with a laugh.

No response was necessary as his fingers slid easily into the tight wet pit of her cunt, its dripping lips announcing her guilty but wordless reply. Rachel wanted to die, the guilt of her feelings burned into her chest, driving the breath from her lungs, her mind a swirl of conflicting life long beliefs and desires. Her mouth moved soundlessly like a waterless fish, small hands clutching whitely at the basin side. Surrendering, she closed her eyes as his fingers probed the fleshy end of her cervix, his thumb strumming the rising nub of her clit!. The beautiful teens body betrayed her as she felt her hips rock as her trim ass raised as she slightly opened her thighs to allow the stinking old man greater access to her, increasing her masochistic shame.

His dirty fingers were now exploring the wet confines of her most secret parts, round and round they ran teasing her cervix as it stood like a lonely obelisk. His thumb mashed against the thick stub of the attractive teens engorged clit. At the same instant she jerked as she felt something cold against the back of her leg. In an instance she knew!

'Conquistador likes your wet little pussy too senorita', the old man said with a cackle. She looked around in time to see the large tongue of the animal make a long swath through the oily liquid coating the old man's hand and her crotch. Her heart raced as she felt a hardness against her hip through the old man's filthy pantaloons. The slut in her marveled at the size and hardness of his hidden member which seemed to surge with each new indignity she suffered. The prim voice in her shamed her, when she caught the slut in her wondering what it looked like, and to her thrilling disgust, what it might taste like.! She tried to pray, to find a reason for her martyrdom, but she found it too nasty, too horribly thrilling to concentrate on virtuous thoughts.

Seeming that god wasn't pleased with the level of her degradation and humiliation, she felt hands on the side of her face holding her firmly to the front. Opening her big blue eyes she saw the imbicilic face of Tahio, the hulking retard. As she whimpered he held her as he moved the stained front of his pantaloons even with her face. As he shuffled forward she saw the outline and caught glimpses of the log of his cock through a tear in the fabric. Standing in front of her he grasped her by her blond pony tail and thrust her face into his groin. The beautiful girl felt a surge of masochistic delight as her nose brushed against the hardness of his rod through the rent in the fabric. His bristly pubs scratched her nose and cheek, as she caught her breath her delicate nostrils were assailed by the stink and filth of his unwashed privates.

A wave of goose flesh rose across her back and arms at the delightful dirtiness of it, the image of her mother and father flashed through her mind, if only they could see me now a little voice cried out! The attractive teen's soul burned as she felt her cunt contract uncontrollably at the repulsive touch of the boys organ. She knew the old man could feel her guilty response around his dripping fingers. He knew her inner secret. In a mind searing flash, Rachel realized what she had known secretly all along.

Her life as a prim and proper church going deb, was a sham. Just as sure as the facade of her happy family had collapse amid a storm of adultery and betrayal, the lie of her true nature was being revealed by these filthy peasants. The lily white personae she portrayed was as hollow as her empty begging cunt.

Here she stood, a depraved strangers hand probing her cunt, relishing the feel of a strange cock against her face, her body betraying her, responding with masochistic delight to the humiliating and degrading treatment at the hands of strangers. She knew now there was no god. There was no right and wrong, no afterlife, only the here and now, only the cravings of the flesh, only the inflamed and gnawing need between her legs. Her brain the center of her intellect, seat of what she called her soul, repository of her eternal salvation, had surrendered control of her life to the half-inch long bundle of nerves of her clit. The thick blood engorged little bishop, sang like a choir with each touch of the old man's calloused thumb.

Like a tiny alien possessing her body, it now controlled her every craving. Red and swollen from the incessant attention it coaxed her, with wave after wave of guilty pleasure, deeper into the mire and filth of her sexual depravity. Her mind was a willing accomplice as it thrilled to the forbidden acts she willingly allowed others to perform on her virginal body.

Her skin burned with the guilt and anticipation, the shame and pleasure of being used like a whore! Now she needed no coaxing as she pushed her face into the boy's stinking crotch, seeking out the hard tube of his cock. She thrilled to the feel of it against her lips, her little pink tongue thrusting out in desperate pursuit of just a taste of the sinful object of her lust. The vile tool of rapine and degradation of so many women through history, but holy enough to be the instrument of god's covenant with the Jew's. Her mind reeled, that was it, it would be the instrument of a new covenant, between her and her new god, the god of her flesh.

She would sacrifice all to satiate her god and to please her. Her life would be cocks, hard, swollen spurting cocks. It was her destiny to service them to please her god, to make them hard and swollen, to coax them to give up their rich hot creamy offering to her god.

She would please them every way she could, with her tits, cunt, ass and mouth. Her life would be a long ride of thrusting, rubbing, sucking and spurting cocks!

She felt her legs being swept apart by the old man's hips, as he raised her dress. His hand gone, the cry of emptiness from her stretched and drooling cunt was was about to be answered. The boy pulled aside the buttonless fly of his pantaloons to free the thick vein choked length of his cock. Rachel nuzzled the length of it against her cheek, drawing back as the boy leveled it with her mouth. He skinned back the delicate foreskin, revealing his encrusted purple glans.

Chapter 6 Rachel stretched her slender neck forward like an infant bird, yearning hungrily for the boy's cock, she pursed her lips, wetting them, her tiny pink tongue leaving them gleaming with the saliva that rose in deliberate anticipation. Behind her she felt the old man's cock searching for her cunt through the sodden curls of the matted hair lining the lips of her cunt. The sound of a door latch in the dark startled the teenager as she stood guiltily in the pool of light in the middle of the room. She struggled to push the filthy fantasy from her mind, but her hands continued their mechanical torment of her cunt and clit. The oily juices flowing from her mixed with the soapy water coating her glistening form. Her mind reeled, as she remembered where and who she was. 'Are you so lost?'

Her rational mind cried out. 'You are a good and holy woman!' 'Reject the pleasures of the flesh!!'

Rachel's only response was a guilty groan, as the split fingers of one hand, pulled back and exposed the swollen angry red nub of her clit to the direct, tormenting attention of the fingers of her other hand. Just as her fingers began to pinch the thick projecting fleshy nub, a voice jolted her back to reality. 'Rachel, my child is that you?'

The voice of the old padre said, filling the room. His hulking form materialized at the edge of the light, cast by the flickering candles on the tall stands near the nude girl. The Padre's late arrival at the washroom was to wash away the dust of the road. He had seen the young woman bathing and had intended to spare her the embarrassment of knowing of his intrusion.

Something rooted him to the spot. Like some obscene voyeur, his mouth became dry, as he relished watching the perfectly formed teenager bath. He watched as she had sponged every curve of her flawless white skin. The firm muscles of her shoulders rippled under smooth skin. He watched her sponge the muscular expanse of her upper chest, and watched as the suds ran over the swelling curves of her huge breasts.

He had marveled at the heavy weight of her breasts, as they stood high and proud, revealing only a hint of sag on the downward curve, where they joined her lean ribcage. Soap flowed down the deep cleavage, between the succulent orbs that rippled and jiggled with her every movement. Beneath the pale white skin, he could see a network of light blue veins feeding her blood engorged nipples.

He wet his thick black lips, as the wet elongated nipples shown like diamonds under the reflected candlelight. He watched them lengthen, as her aureoles tightened from the cool wetness. His gaze followed the stream of soapy water, as it ran from her cleavage, down the long flat plane of her stomach and through the sparse patch blonde curls that graced her mons. His eyes widened, as the miniature river was divided by the large protuberance of her clit, to finally drip from her downward hanging labia, that projected like a fat pink tongue from her hidden slit. He stood frozen, as her gleaming thighs trembled while she debased herself in selfish pleasure, abusing the nub of her clit with greedy fingers. He felt a stirring beneath his cassock that he had thought to be long dead.

The young woman was perfection incarnate, yet here she stood, debasing herself like a common Puta. He felt a profound loss, and sympathy mixed with contempt for the sluttish girl. 'She has the world,' he thought, 'yet she wants to play the whore.' Priestly thoughts overwhelmed the carnal desires he felt, 'The slut violates god's will in his very house!' He thought with outrage. He knew the girl must do penance, and the priest in him was enraged at the long dormant feelings that she had resurrected in him. 'Surely the slut is a vessel of lust!

Put on this earth to tempt the holiest of men. Satan must be driven out of her!' He thought, as he watched her continue to abuse the sensitive flesh between her legs, like a needy whore. Rachel was lost in lust, as she smiled at the old Padre, and unashamedly fought for sexual release. Her fingers were a blur, as she worried the stiff nub of reddened flesh. Before she could move, the old Padre stepped forward, 'Puta!' He spat, as he sent her reeling, as his open hand crashed into her cheek.

Chapter 7 Her lithe form landed on the wooden floor with a thud, lying in a puddle of water and suds, across the dusty, dry floor. Rachel raised herself up on her left hip, supporting herself with her left arm, as she rubbed the red welt on her cheek with her other hand. Dust and rotting wood stuck to the wet flesh of her flank and the curve of her left breast. Rachel smiled, licking her lip, tasting the saltiness from the blood, and feeling how her lip was thickening from the blow. She pushed herself erect, her breasts jiggling from the effort.

She crawled over to where the black clad figure towered over her. 'You have behaved like a common whore in the house of the lord, my child. What have you to say about this sluttish wickedness and abomination you you have performed in the sight of the lord?' Without a word, the girl ran her palms along the outline of his cock, visible through his cassock. She slowly snaked her small hand through the opening between it's buttons, searching for what she needed to find.

Her small fingers marched like tiny Christian soldiers, up the length of the old Padre's burgeoning erection. She smiled up at him, as he stood as though rooted to the floor, too shocked to react. A groan escaped his lips, as the small rooting fingers explored, found and cupped his heavy scrotum. Forgotten feelings surged through him at the teenager's touch. His broad nostrils flared at the overwhelming smell of musk that exuded from her, only feet away.

Her other hand impatiently fumbled, first with the buttons of his cassock and then with the fly of his under garment. Even in the dim light of the candle, the contrast of her pale hands, on his large black rod was clearly visible. The uncontrollable rise of saliva in her mouth, was matched by the clenching in her guts, as her pussy welled up with hot musk. The Padre stood rigid, suddenly raising his pudgy hands to the heavens and clenching them into fists. As the girl continued her vile ministrations. Rachel knew now that her fantasy was not a dream, but a vision, a vision of her destiny, her purpose. Lost in a maelstrom of lust and need, she struggled to push such thoughts from her mind, and grasp the old Rachel, the intelligent, independent Rachel, the one one dedicated to self-denial, all in the name of a religious mythology.

Instead, the more she struggled within herself, the more tangled she became in her religious fantasies. She now perceived that she had no choice, that the loving god she for so long sought to please, had charted and new course for her existence. She was to please in a new realm. Not one of the spiritual realm, but the one of the flesh. In an instant she saw things clearly, and was now freed from the restraining burden of a lifetime of lies. Rachel eagerly pulled The Padre's under garment down his thick thighs.

Her cheek rested against his sizable paunch, as her long, stiff nipples brushed teasingly along in their wake. Kneeling, her dripping bottom rested on her heels, she raised her small hands, with a whimper of excitement, to lovingly cup the large black sack of his testicles, that hung heavily beneath his large gut. Her small hands could barely contain their hot fullness, as she dipped her head to place a loving kiss on each of the plumb sized orbs, with her forehead pushed tightly against the overhang of his belly. Her cupped hands kneaded their precious cargo tenderly, as she buried her nose and mouth in their wrinkled softness.

Rachel felt her guts contract, as she inhaled the fragrance of the Padre's manhood, felt the churning of his balls beneath her lips and fingers, and felt the coarseness of his nappy pubes against her pale cheeks. Overcome and blinded by lust, her tongue thrust out like a tiny wet worm, to trace the heavy veins decorating his sperm heavy scrotum, beneath their covering of tightly curled hair. She lathed the firm orbs until they were lathered with her saliva, her tongue paying homage to the offering they contained. The offering that she would soon have jetting forth, in a warm fountain from which she would drink, in a new kind of communion.

The Padre's body betrayed him, even as he cried out silently to god, in a futile prayer. The years of self-denial, in the purgatory of celibacy were melting away, as the young girl stoked the long banked embers of lust in his loins. The blind rage he felt at the girl was doused by wave after wave of long forgotten carnal pleasure, as the girl made oral love to his churning balls.

Suddenly in an epiphany of faith driven delusion, it was clear to him. Like the saved drowning man's surety of divine intervention, the old Padre knew the reason for his tempting. The girl was a vessel, a vessel into which he would pour his lust, he would purify her, he would use her to cleanse others of their lust. Why else would god send him a soulless whore in the form of a perfect virginal woman. Such carnal perfection had only one use. With the certainty born of zealotry, the old Padre was freed of his guilt.

He lowered his pudgy hands the girl's blonde head as she dipped her head sideways to catch the thick staff of his cock between her eager open lips. Rachel trembled with anticipation as she brought her hand to the stiff rod of black flesh and guided it to her mouth. Her hand was slick with the saliva that coated his sperm sacks, and filled her mouth to overflowing.

She tenderly shucked his swelling cock with her small white fingers to reveal the dark grayish purple head. Her lust drugged mind reveled in the depravity of the scene. A prim and proper white Protestant teenager, on missionary with her pious father, groveling soul naked before a fat mulatto priest making love to his cock with her swollen red lips and pink little tongue. Her mind reeled as she visualized the scene, her once flawless face bruised, lips swollen from the abuse she knew she deserved, her cheeks distended, face glistening with mingled secretions, her jaw distorted as she tried to swallow the length of flesh. It was so awful, so depraved, her heavily secreting pussy throbbed at the mental image. She dug her upturned heels into her groin to satisfy the need, the wet swollen flesh of her cunt flooded her feet with its thick oily discharge. The groveling girl marveled at the hardness of the old Padre's cock as she held it in her hand.

Her swollen lips leaked a moan that was a mixture of need and anticipation as she brought the throbbing black cudgel to her wet lips. She pulled the glossy swollen head to her lips in a soulful kiss, paying homage to the offering the laid before her god. In a scene that was deliberate, almost ritualistic, she kissed the length of the fleshy rod, tracing each pencil thick vein with her delicate pink tongue. She felt it surge under her ministrations.

Bringing the plum sized knob to her lips she lathed her tongue around its girth and played it into the cleft beneath its wordless mouth, pursing her lips she gently kissed the head, and with a purr engulfed it with her watering mouth. A moaning growl escaped the fat old man as the head of his cock was encased in the wet warmth of the young white girl's mouth.

His balls churned as he felt the girl's tongue swirl around the sensitive head, playing and dipping in to the precum leaking slit as if plumbing for its rich liquid treasure, coaxing it to fountain forth. His head swimming, legs trembling the Padre staggered back and collapsed into a heavy framed wooden chair.

The eager girl never released the vacuum of her young mouth around the old Padre's cock, scuttling after him on all fours, heavy swollen tits swaying beneath her like a nursing calf reluctant to give up it's mother's teat. Chapter 8 The old Padre reclined in the chair and could finally see the entire portrait of the young lust driven slut. In the dim light of the candle her body still gleamed under the sheen of bath water water and sweat. The curves of her athletic and lush figure were highlighted. The sight made his loins burn, his throbbing cock threatening to burst as his lust heated blood pumped into the black rod trapped between the young girls hollowed cheeks. The old man watched the impassioned face of the young white woman, her flaxen fair plastered to her high clear forehead with sweat and hanging in matted strands about her shoulders. Her pale blue eyes were unseeing, clouded with lust, tears of rapture glistening at her lashes, as a patina of sweat formed on the upper surface of her cheeks.

Her delicate nostrils flared as she struggled for breath due to the fleshy invader distorting her beautiful features as it her oral cavity. Her fine chin glistened under a virtual river of spit as her mouth filled to overflowing as she bent to her delicious task.

Her long neck worked with the exertions of her sucking as her flushed cheeks hollowed and hollowed again as if she struggled to get sustenance from his fleshy rod. She relinquished her loving oral embrace only long enough to caress his length with her delicate pick tongue and to swallow the cherished mixture of saliva and seminal emissions that clogged her mouth to overflowing.

He saw that her pale blue eyes were unseeing, clouded with lust, tears of rapture glistening at her lashes, as a patina of sweat formed on the upper surface of her cheeks. Her delicate nostrils flared as she struggled for breath through her lust and around the fleshy invader whose girth distorted her beautiful face as it plugged her oral cavity. The last threads of self respect and decency in Rachel's mind screamed with outrage as she hungrily suckled at the black rod. Her blue eyes beheld the man that was in this moment her master, the focus of her existence. She barely saw beyond the rod of flesh that held her spellbound to see the spayed cassock exposing the sprawled flabby charcoal thighs with their scabby covering of tightly curled black hair; the distended fat abdomen mapped with dark stretch marks rising like the black belly of a whale from just above his groin and the leering pig eyes staring from above the wide flat nose. Independent intellect fought a losing battle with primordial need as reason and pride slipped away as she slavishly groveled before the black staff. The studied intelligent girl within her, cried as it died poisoned by the corrupting bile of lust that reduced her to a creature controlled by a throbbing nub of needy nerves bathed in sexual secretions.

Surrendering, she wedged herself further into the cleft formed by the old Padre's flabby thighs, rubbing her hard nippled breasts against him in a desperate effort to increase his pleasure. Above her the dark eyes of the old Padre stared from his black face sitting pumpkin like, supported by the fat rolls of his neck. He witnessed the obscene sight before him as the once proper young white woman groveling before him. His thick tongue darted from his corpulent face to licking his fat lips in pleasure. Rachel She searched his panting face for some shred of approval as she debased herself for his pleasure.

'Suck it, filthy whore, suck the sinful lust from me, make me a pure instrument to do god's work,' the old Padre wheezed in near delirium. Rachel flinched under the sudden verbal onslaught. The words raising goose flesh of pleasure along the curve of her arched back, disturbing the beads of sweat that dotted the flawless skin. She found solace in the obscene words as they confirmed the revelation she had had about herself. She knew now that it was true. She smiled as she raised the black rod, running her pink tongue along the length of the underside, pausing at intervals along it's length to plant loving kisses, then swallowed the length of it in in masochistic delight.

The raised spear of flesh lanced into the back of her throat as she forced her mouth down it's entire length, her forehead glued to the underside of his bloated belly, she push with a force born of need and self hatred. 'My god, help me, what have I become,' her rational mind desperately cried out only to be doused by a gush of obscene pleasure at the Padre continued his verbal abuse. Her breath coming in snorts from her nose as she sought to breath around the plug of flesh imbedded in her throat. 'Yes-s-s-s, take back the sinful lust that you have awakened slut,' the Padre said with a groan as Rachel's lips met the prickly cushion of his spit matted pubic hair. 'Lance the abscess on my soul that you have given rise to, take from me the puss of sin into the wretched whorish vessel that god has made of you.' Losing all control and self respect, with a grunt, the young woman wiggled tighter between the old man's legs, pushing her pillowy breasts against his scrotum as she forced her mouth harder and harder onto the fleshy shaft. Tears formed in the young girl's eyes tears of anguish at that part of her she could not control, tears caused by the masochistic invasion of her viginal and tears of delight as she wallowed swinishly in her trough of sin.

'You are the embodiment of woman, the evil slut whore that has since the Genesis has caused the downfall of man, take from me the sin that you have wrought through the ages, and satisfy your insatiable hunger!' The old man's hands clenched at Rachel's head as his cock ballooned in her throat. Rachel's throat was making the long elevator ride up the fleshy tower when it erupted in a fountain of thick rich sperm. The young girl could not stifle a cough as the thick cream clogged her esophagus, spraying the mucus like liquid from her nose and mouth spattering the skin of the old man's belly and his cassock.

Lifting her sperm dripping lips from the glistening cock she plunged at the spewing delight, ruby lips wide, tongue extended in an effort to capture more of the yellowish cream fountaining from the old man's balls, seed stored for over 30 years fountained forth in gush after rich gush. Rachel's right hand cradled the old man's heavy balls kneading them in an effort to keep the spring flowing, her greedy tongue flicking out capturing the flow, till finally her lips sealed the runaway fountain and suckled at the tip greedily swallowing the viscous life giving fluid. The old man's hands fell to his sides as Rachel suckled on his cock.

Her hand busily kneaded his testicles in an effort to coax more from the empty sacks. When she was satisfied that no more was to be had from the softening tube of flesh, she busied herself lapping the spilt cum from his belly and sucking the dregs from his curly pubes. The old Padre watched as the the young girl preened catlike as she licked her fingers and hands in desperate attempt to find every last drop of his delicious sperm. The wanton sight brought a life back to his deflating cock as the depravity of the the once pure teenager burned into his brain. Rachel could think of nothing but the thick wonderful jism that had spouted from the old man's cock. It was the wine and bread of her new communion, she savored it, running the dregs she had siphoned from his pubes and licked from his distended belly, over her lips and tongue.

Her corrupted soul hungered for the pungent taste and smell of the viscous fluid, loved the way it made her teeth and tongue feel as it coated them with it's sticky sediment. Chapter 9 Rachel's heart skipped a beat as she felt the flaccid cock growing in her hand. Her needy eyes searched the Padre's face as she kissed the growing cock in a superfluous gesture to encourage its resurrection. The fear that this might be a tease, that the Padre might be so cruel as to take from her this second delight was more than the lost teenager could stand, so needy was the throbbing between her supple thighs. The desire, the need, the maddening throb, like a new addiction, overwhelmed Rachel, she faltered, then the damn burst. 'Please, give it to me, please, please give me.cock!,' the poor teenager whispered as she bathed the black snout of the growing member with her little pink tongue. Without a word the old Padre unbuttoned the front of his cassock to reveal the enormity of his belly and the twin peaks of his drooping fat pectorals.

The old man grasped the forearm of the 19 year old and pulled her to her feet. Needing no encouragement, Rachel moved to mount the cock of the old man. Rachel swung one long muscular leg over the old man's waist like she was mounting a horse. She hunched herself up against his large paunch gripping it with her thighs. She supported herself with one arm on the back of the heavy wooden chair as she fished between her spread buttocks for the hardened black cudgel that she hungered for.

As she leaned forward, the massive ivory globes of her breasts hung under her like water filled balloons, heavy and swollen. A small white hand found the throbbing staff and slid if up and down the slick grove of her swollen labia, finding and pressing the swollen black knob into the yearning mouth of her cunt. Their groans echoed one another as her flexing thighs pushed her split buttocks downward toward his pelvis.

The woman forced the black ram slowly into her virgin guts, wiggling from side to side in an attempt to widen the channel and ease entry of the black invader. Her face knitted with concentration, Rachel licked at her bottom lip, tongue extended like a greedy sow. She forced more and more of the old man's cock into the unused channel of flesh, splitting asunder her maiden head, tender flesh parting before the ram of masculine muscle. Rachel reveled in a shower of masochistic feelings as she forced the thick cock into her tight wet cunt. The slow impossibly long ride down the old Padre's cock ended when she felt her swollen labia prick against the tight black curls around the root of his cock. Rachel felt impossibly full as the old man's cock expanded in the hot wet clasp of her cunt.

She was sure they were forever joined as she felt the pulsing of his cock beat in time with her own labored breathing as she squatted bandy legged the expanse of his large belly forcing her knees apart at an impossible angle. Her knees and upper thighs rested astride the bloated abdomen of the old man, their groins touching only where her labia suckled around the base of his cock. Her large engorged clit being divinely tormented by the abrasion of his aboriginal pubes. The depraved teenager panted as she rested her cheek against the sweating mound of the old man's belly, her insides churned as her cunt pulsed and contracted around the fleshy alien invader. The teenager's mind was lost amid the competing feelings and cravings.

The contractions of her own hungry cunt were answered by the instinctual throbbing pulses from the old Padre's long neglected crudgel. Rachel's long thighs flexed, raising the nursing lips of her labia from around his cock with an audible wet sound. Up and up the clinging lips rode, swabbing his cock as in a lingering kiss, her fleshy inner lips leaving his cock glistening as they drooled in their silent hunger. The young teenager halted her rise as she felt the bulbous head nearing the mouth of her cunt. Pausing, her cunt clenching uncontrollably, she dropped her hips down, lancing the fleshy spear back to it's full depth. The masochistic act brought an involuntary whimper from her as the bulbous head crashed against the fleshy stump of her cervix. The Padre moved only to capture a large hanging breast, directing its impossibly hard swollen nipple to his fat lips.

He was content to watch the poor lost girl debase herself to please him as she let her own demented cravings control her once rational mind. The fat man rolled the teenager's finger thick nipple between his lips, nipping and chewing on the thick protuberance. Finally he captured the thick rough nub in the roll of his tongue and nursing on it with cruel force that brought a whimper from the lust crazed teen. Rachel's thighs flexed again and again, as like some demented engine she drove her pelvis up and down the rigid cock. Her labia swabbing and lubing the staff in an obscene parody of a cylinder and piston.

The air was heavy with the stink of sex and sweat, the sour smell of the old man mingled with the sweet musky smell of young cunt as the two rutted like common animals. The silence of the room was broken only by Rachel's sow like grunts and whimpers as she struggled for release and an occasional wheeze and snuffling snort as the old man labored under the girl.

The old Padre growled and grunted with appreciation as he gnawed on the girl's cow like udders, his fat lips smacking with appreciation at the taste of her virgin teats. His sharp teeth occasionally brought a squeal or whimper from the preoccupied teen as he worried first one tasty nipple, then the other, causing the fat fleshy fingers to swell under his constant sucking and chewing. Red marks and welts marred the vein mapped surface of the girl's pale oversized tits from the old man's merciless kneading and biting of the soft flesh. 'You the foulest whore in god's sight. Take this sinful offering that you in your obscene depravity coax from me. Take upon yourself as as Christ did, the sins of a holy priest, so that he may better serve god,' the Padre gurgled around the stiff nipple that filled his mouth.

'Crack!,' his free right hand came down upon the unprotected flank of the laboring girl. 'Wallow in your depraved obscenity, lend yourself to purification at my hand,' he said punctuating it with another sharp blow against her buttock and thigh. 'Yea-s-s-s-s!, ' the soulless girl moaned under the merciless hand.

'Know that your damnation will prepare others for entry into the kingdom of heaven.,' the old Padre grunted as he raised his flaccid buttocks to bury his dripping cock in to the guts of the eager grunting teen. Another in a storm of blows rained down on Rachel's flanks as the old man railed at her as a godless whore, a pig a slut, the lowest creation on god's earth, a vessel for lust spent sperm, he chewed at the fleshy bags that pummeled his face as the young woman struggled to satisfy the maddening hum in the fleshy finger of her clit.

The words of the old Padre rang like thunder in the ears of the godforsaken girl, pushing her closer and closer to the small death she sought. ' 'She was vile, she was a whore, a slut.she had become, was becoming everything her hypocritical parents had tried to prevent.' She thought as she labored slavishly over the old man's cock. 'And she loved it!!' She admitted to herself as her heart cried over the lost innocence. 'I am a s-s-lut, a whore,' she moaned.

'Use me.p-p-p-ule-e-eze!' She wailed in abject surrender to the black rod of her new master. She finally knew who and what she was. No longer would she be ashamed of her voluptuous and prematurely ripe body. It was there for him, for anyone, to use, so long as they filled her, and gave her hot steaming cum. 'Oh, god help me,' her mind moaned.

Their entwined bodies looked like some grotesque animal in it's death throes. The squelching of his bursting cock in her drooling quim sounded the tempo of her symphony of lust.

The cramping in the girl's thighs was forgotten as she labored for release. An exquisite tension was building as her shoulders screamed with exertion.

The old man's balls contracted suddenly, pumping stream after stream of yellowish cum in an endless geyser into the young woman's bruised cunt. The feel of the expanding cock, it's pulsing contractions and the hot flood of cum sent the girl reeling. Her pussy cramping in a string of mind bending contractions. Her eyes lost sight in a blinding white light as her nails cut furrows in the old man's fat chest. Her plump lips grew tight as she gritted her teeth and veins stood out in her neck. A crimson flush covered her bobbling chest as the old man chewed at her nipples and flailed her flanks.

In her greedy quest for satisfaction she ground her groin against his scrubbing her maddened clit against the woolly root of his cock. The cramping in the girl's thighs was forgotten as she labored for release. Rachel was filled with searing wave after wave of obscene pleasure, her contracting cunt pumping out streamers of her own cum mixed with that of the Mulatto priest, their leavings forming a puddle beneath the old man's flaccid ass.

A gurgling moan escaped her swollen lips as her orgasm ran its undulating course. Every fiber of her body was tuned to wring every delicious second from her delicious delirium. The explosion of obscene and depraved pleasure forever branded itself on young Rachel's being. Never would her life be the same. Rachel fell forward in exhaustion and shivered one last time as the remnants of pleasure strummed her clit.

She wallowed there in a languid pool of depraved excess. Reveling in the obscene memory of the moment, she formed a mental picture of her flawless body sprawled across the nauseating fat form of the black priest. Their lust spent, sweat mingling. She breathed in the stink of the man and ran her delicate fingers through the sparse curls that dotted his fat sunken chest.

Rachel reveled in the thought of what her righteous father would say if he could see her now. Or her unfaithful mother. Her freshly stretched and abused pussy throbbed at the wicked thought. She knew now that she would never be the same.

She was an addict, not to the needle, but to the delicious high that a demanding cock could bring her. She wallowed in the delight of being used submissively, of being mastered by a stranger, any stranger, with a hard demanding cock. Somewhere within her the old Rachel cried as her pussy throbbed around the deflating black cock still filling her. The Padre caught his breath and pushed the girl from him as if she was suddenly repellent. Rachel fell to the sweat and cum speckled floor, staring upward at his dark face.

Her eyes were drawn to the glistening black cock projecting through the half open front of his cassock. Rising up to her knees the abused form of the young woman she caught the dripping cock between her swollen lips, licking their commingled juices from the rod with rapacious delight. The old priest suddenly grabbed the girl's matted hair in his left hand. 'You are to be a whore for god my child, but you must be cleansed of the lust you take unto yourself from others.' He pulled her face upward by the blonde tresses he clutched.

The pathetic young woman raised her face to his in desperation, looking for something, even she did not know. 'It shall be my service to god to use this vessel of lust to do god's will' he said raising his right hand to the heavens. He then brought the hand down in a fist against Rachel's upturned jaw sending her into an oblivion of darkness. Chapter 10 The old Padre sweated as he tied the last knot. The old Jesuit texts had been invaluable. The Jesuits new and understood, pain and humiliation cleansed the soul. What better way to cleanse the vessel of lust the young woman had become.

The Padre tried to ignore the stirring in his groin as he looked at the unconscious young woman. She was on all fours, draped over a stool. Leather straps were secured behind her knees with buckles, the sections of old leather belts having been nailed to the floor. Her hands were secured in a similar fashion.

Her head was hooded with an old black velvet bag from the sanctuary. The front of the hood came down to the tip of her delicate nose where it met the twin tined hook with blunt tines that disappeared into each nostril keeping her unconscious head upright it's weight resting on the cord suspending the hook. Her mouth was gagged by the thick nub of an old candle pierced and held in place by a cord around her head.

The Padre strummed his finger on the taunt string that ran from her left nipple to the nail in the wooden floor. The reddish teat had already swollen and was turning a purplish blue. 'How ingenious our the Jesuits were.'

He thought to himself. When the pitiful girl regained her senses, he would remove the stool and she would be forced to kneel her head kept aloft by the nasal hooks, and suffer the pain from the tight cords secured to each of the obscene projections of her filthy teats. The bonds assured that she could not move to relieve the pressure on her knees and arms. Attempts to do so would result in increased tension on nose or breast. She would have plenty of time to contemplate her new purpose in life, and service to god.

The Padre's thoughts were interrupted by moans from the girl as she regained her senses. Rachel struggled to clear her head but every movement seemed to result in pain. Her heart pounding with terror, she blinked her eyes to clear them but saw only blackness. Her nose throbbed in pain but she was powerless to move her hand to explore her injury. 'Slut,' a voice said out of the darkness.

'Soulless whore,' you are doing penance to cleanse yourself of the lust you have partaken in the name of god.' The past hours came back to Rachel in a flash, her skin burned with the realization of what she had done, her skin turned red, as embarrassment and excitement raced through her. She stiffened as a thick finger traced the tender length of her cum oozing quim. 'God has ordained that you are worthy only to be a vessel of lust. You are fit only to receive the sinful lust of others, your womb shall be barren, poisoned by the sinful seed that is to fill it.,' he chorled. 'Like the sin eaters of old you will suckle the sin poisoned seed filling your belly, and then do penance, that other more worthy creatures shall be saved.' 'Godless whore, you shall remain here to contemplate your new life, until I return.

Pray for forgiveness, and thank the lord that you have been chosen to serve him to this worthy purpose.' The girl felt the surface her upper torso rested on being pulled from under her.

The sudden shift of weight caused an increase in the pain in her nose. As she struggled to ease that pain she felt the pulling in her nipples increase. In panic she began to buck and pull at her bonds. The Padre chuckled at her struggles. 'Poor child, you struggles only make it worse.

Accept this as you must accept you new life.' With those final words, the poor girl heard the Padre's footsteps fade and a door close. Rachel's struggles ceased as she found a position where the pain became a constant.

Her knees throbbed, her wrists ached and her nose was numb. The burning in her nipples had become a dull ache as the long nubs had become engorged with trapped blood and turned blue black due to the tight twine that encircled them. Minutes seemed hours, and hours seemed like an eternity. Her empty quim was a mass of raw nerves as it throbbed with the memory of her willing violation. The memory burned hot as she relived the uncontrolled lust that had consumed her. She struggled to visualize her life only weeks before, but could not.

It was as though the depraved acts of the last day had burned away the last vestiges of the young woman that had been her. In her place was a hollow shell of flesh, a dripping running cunt that begged to be filled. She had become a trollop, no decent man would want her. A hairy hole to be used as any man saw fit. She loathed herself, but reveled in the depravity. Pain brought her out of her orgy of self hatred as she realized she had deliberately rocked back on her haunches pulling against both the nasal hooks and nipple bindings bringing a fresh wave of pain to her dulled brain.

Through the fog of pain that roared in her ears, the helpless girl heard the door open and the soft pad of multiple feet. Chapter 11 It was early in the morning as Hatori entered the rectory to do the regular cleaning and collection of soiled linens. He stopped in mid stride when he saw the sight before him. Tahio his son and the large mastiff nearly collided with him his halt was so sudden.

For a moment he was bewildered at what lay before him. He knew the old Padre would be gone till midday, but why was the young American girl displayed so? It could only have been done by the Padre he reasoned, as he was her guardian. A not so benevolent guardian it seemed.

Maybe he and the Priest had more in common than he thought. Silently he approached the table looking for something that might explain the puzzle before him. He saw the old books and leafed through the Jesuit texts gleaning enough from the engravings to know what the priest was doing to the girl. Why he could only imagine. 'So primitive,' he snorted under his breath.

Looking toward the girl, he motioned to his son to remain where he was, the large dog straining at his collar at the scent of musk heavy in the air. He could not believe his good fortune. He could think of nothing else since laying eyes on the American girl the day before. He took his lust and frustration out on Maria these last few days. Even now she suffered for his pleasure, tied and trussed with coarse hemp waiting his return. Rachel could sense a presence in the room, but could see nothing through the hood. 'Look at de leetle missy' a familiar voice hissed.

'La Puta, si, Hatori?, the old japanese laundry man said as ran a rough hand over the smooth skin that clad the teen's finely muscled back. The thick muscles along her spine standing out in relief as her back arched. His hands cupped her heavy breasts, drawing a whimper from the girl as it pulled on her swollen blue nipples.

The old man's hand slid down the girl's back and around the curve of her buttock. He cupped the firm flesh and squeezed it in appreciation.

He unceremoniously wormed a bony finger between the exposed lips of the defenseless girl's pussy, still slick with the Padre's leavings. 'Can I fuckee, the Missee, papa?'

The youth babbled as he watched his father finger the girl. The naked girl shuddered not at the sound of the idiot babbling of the large oriental youth, but at the wave of delight she felt as the bony finger explored her bottom.

His other had joined the first, spreading her for inspection, the large nub of her clit rising in response. She felt a feeling in her stomach, a feeling of near nausea, not at her exposure, her debasement, nor the repellent touch of the old man.

No, it was a sick empty feeling that they might leave her, that they might not use her. Might not fill her with their filthy squirming seed. This very thought should have sickened her, but she felt only satisfaction, that her womb might receive yet another baptism of viscous sperm. The helpless teen began to buck and grunt around the candle that filled her mouth. Trying to feel more of the maddening fingers that probed her exposed sex. The old man used one hand to pry her slick labia apart, the old Padre's sperm still clinging to the sparse hairs. Hatori sniggered to himself at the sight of the red raw flesh of the poor girl wet with the spent seed of the old priest.

Hitori grinned at the sight of the raised red finger of the girl's inflamed clit. With sadistic glee he caught the livid bundle of nerves between the thumb and forefinger and pinched it cruelly as the the kneeling young woman thrashed and bucked in her bound position. The old man motioned to the retarded youth to bring the dog forward, the mammoth dog champing with agitation. The old man jerked his fingers from the girl's privates and held them in front of the slobbering dog's muzzle.

The dog sniffed at the oily goo coating the Hatori's fingers and immediately began to lap at the musky smelling slime when the dog had finished with the man's hand his head raised his nose searching for the now familiar smell. Tahio had a hard time restraining the large animal as he strained at the chain collar slowly pulling the youth toward the two half moons of the girls ass.

Rachel jerked at the first cold contact of the dog's nose with the hot flesh of her quim. Her nerve endings sparked and sizzled as the dog assaulted her exposed privates. The poor girl made an inviting target, her tight ass cheeks standing tall and exposed on the firm columns of her long thighs. Her lean buttocks stood high and firm, exposing her sex in the wide cleft between the firm cheeks. The sparse blonde hair that covered her plump swollen labia fairly bristled, beaded damply with the the priest's slime. Her swollen inner labia protruded out like some greedy tongue, red and swollen. With a cursory sniff, Conquistador's broad tongue began to lap at the long labia, in a perverted parody of two lovers French kissing.

The dog seemed intent at plumbing the very depths of the poor girl's womb to get the mixture of musk and cum. Rachel thought she would die when she felt the old man remove his wriggling fingers leaving her open and empty. She waved the split half moons of her ass from side to side in an obscene effort to recapture the feeling. The wet touch of the dog's warm tongue brought a wave of excitement coursing through her. The wailing 'No-o-o-o-o-o! That rang through her mind when she deduced the true identity of the brute assaulting the treasure of her upturned pussy, came out a muffled moan through the plug of wax filling her mouth. She began to thrash and jerk as the perversion invaded her mind and senses.

Each pull and jerk caused agony in her poor nipples and nose. Pain and humiliation competed for space within the girl's consciousness.

Rachel thought she had sunk to the depths of depravity, but she was wrong, the hungry ministrations of the dog's tongue began to assuage the girl's pain. Once again the fire in her filthy cunt began to betray her. A low pitiful whimper vibrated in her throat as the dog continued to lap at her. The old man stood watching the depraved display, idly squeezing the girl's left breast as it hung heavily beneath her, his own right hand rubbing the erection that tented the front of his loose pantaloons.

'Tahio, Conquistador, no mas', he barked as he motioned with his arm. Dnt Da2 Hybrid Software. His babbling son pulled the animal away from the girl, her elevated bottom wet with dogs sticky saliva.

'Now Missee.we see if I feet yor leetle pussy.' , he said as he fumbled with his pantaloons, shoving them to his knees. The hooded girl was spared the sight of the old man's scab covered candy little legs as he waddled to the waiting girls elevated buttocks. The old man positively drooled at the cleft of flesh before him.

The teen's firm buttocks were at his waist level, their muscular firmness creating a wide cleft in which the bruised slit of her pussy and pink rosebud of her sphincter could not hide. No the wide glistening cleft of her ass, elevated on the muscular columns of her thighs displayed her charms obscenely.

Impatiently, the old man fisted his rancid cock and waddled up to the charms the bound girl offer up to him. He ran the knobby head of his cock up and down the angry red lips of the girls labia luxuriating in the slickness left by those before him. With a delighted grunt he rammed his warty shaft into the swampy cunt. His claw like hands clutched the girls narrow hips and his pelvis began the rhythmic motion as old as time. Rachel moaned at this new invasion, her hips soon moving in time with the fleshy piston drubbing against her batter cervix.

A steady low moan growled in her throat, as her thighs flexed pushing her ass back against the pelvis that pounded against her upturned ass. She knew she was truly lost as she thought not an instant of the cock or it's owner, but focused on the thrill it gave her, on how it's creamy load might taste and feel on her tongue.

He mind was lost in an effort to create an image of what it looked like lancing in and out of her poor battered pussy. The old man stared at the back of the girl though his slanted eyes, sweat dripping from the ends of his greasy mustache to drip on the upturned curves of her ass. He watched the subtle flexing of her muscular back as she supported herself and pushed backwards against him. 'Such a whore she is, he thought', with contempt. 'It took over three years for him to train Maria, to the point that this young puta has come to in a day!' He marveled to himself. He watched as beads of sweat formed along the thick muscles of her spine and coalesced to pool along the hollow of her spine.

Drops from her proud upturned ass ran down to join the pool as she labored slavishly to milk his cock. The old man groaned inwardly at the soft flesh that encased his rod. The warty growths of his ancient member chaffed and tore at the tender near virginal flesh that clung to it with each outstroke.

He could feel every squeeze of the girl's cunt muscles, deliberately milking him. His eyes traveled upward at the motion of his idiot son, as he stood questioning by the girl's hooded head.

A grim smile spread across the old man's face as he nodded. Fumbling with the cords knot, the spit wet candle soon fell with a clump to the wooden floor. The youth next removed the hood, the girl blinking wildly as she became use to the light. Her eyes brimmed with tears, from pain, relief or humiliation, it mattered not, as she wormed her ass backward as best she could, not missing a beat of the old man's tempo as his bony hips thudded into the muscular cheeks of her buttocks that she gladly offered up to him, arching her back back to make her quim more accessible. Chapter 12 The bleary eyes of the young woman could see nothing but the large log of flesh before her.

Her head was still pulled harshly up and back by the tension of the nasal hooks, her mouth hanging open slackly now that the thick candle was gone. Looking down her slender nose she as he brought the thick vein wrapped post toward her defenseless but eager mouth. Her pink involuntarily darted out to wet the oval of her lips, as her eyes watched him pull back the delicate foreskin partially revealing the oversized fleshy knob, purple and gleaming wetly. She saw the huge scrotum that hung beneath the wrist thick shaft, their contents hanging heavily fully the size of tennis balls. The slick knob slid easily across her lips as the youth guided it into her waiting mouth. Rachel's eyes seemed glassy as her tiny pink tongue explored the head beneath the delicate foreskin, her mind lost in contemplation of new sperm laden delights. Rachel was an automaton as her hips rocked and squeezed in an effort to please the faceless owner of the pleasuring cock.

Her mouth watered as she explored the hard rod of flesh that inexorably forced it's way into her mouth. The insistent pressure against her mouth threatened to tear her nose from her face as the nasal hooks bit deeply holding her head in position. This increased the tension on her poor swollen nipples, looking like blue black strawberries from the restricted circulation. 'Mmmmmpppf, grlllgl', the teen struggled for breath.

Near the edge of sanity, Rachel pushed back against the cock filling her mouth, forcing her jaw ever wider, her breath snuffling and spurting through her nose around the restraining hooks. Rachel's mind threaten to dissolve, as she struggled to please the faceless man filling her bruised bottom, all the while she attempted to swallow the staggering length and girth of the cock forcing its way into her mouth. The retarded boy babbled and giggled, a stream of slobber wetting his chin as he watched the girl swallow his mammoth rod. Grabbing the helpless girl by the head, he began to imitate his father, pumping his enlarged cock in and out of the teenager's defenseless mouth as he blathered and giggled. 'Lookee, papa, I fuckee the Missee.'

He babbled, unconcerned with any distress he was causing the unfortunate girl as his thrusts pummeled his groin against the unresisting girls face. 'Good, boy-y-y-y-y-y.'

The old man said with a shudder as his ancient balls spewed their rancid seed into the raw channel of the girl's cunt. He clutched the prominent hips and welded his groin to the pale cheeks of the upturned ass and felt the girl push back against him as his foul spunk spewed against the dilated mouth of her batter cervix. Asian and Negroid sperm competed in her cum clogged womb, wriggling out their brief lives for eggs that were not there.

The old man felt every pulsation of the young cunt around his old cock. The wet velvet lining of her quim melded and kiss every crevass and warty knob on the old man's member, bathing the dry cracked surface with an ocean of musk that pumped from her young flesh in a seemingly endless stream. Rachel felt the old man's liquid explosion, but had only begun to climb the peak of pleasure herself. Distracted by the twin penetration by the two men, the young slut had become to intent on pleasing them. The youth's abuse of her mouth was made worse as she docilely tried to cover her teeth with her swollen lips to protect the invading cock from her teeth tearing and scraping the tender flesh of her mouth in a sacrificial gesture of submission. The boy cared little for her gesture as he plunged his cock into her throat to the roots, holding it there savoring the warmth and rippling convulsions of her throat as he triggered her gag reflex. Jets of air sent mucus streaming down her upper lip as her breath exploded from the restricted airway of her nostrils.

The boy held the young slut's head in an iron grip as she thrashed about trying desperately to breath around the cock buried in her convulsing throat. 'Mmmmmmmmh, mmmmmmmfp', she gurgled as she felt the young boys heavy balls slap against her chin. Wordlessly she felt the thick post become thicker as the shaft prepared to baptize her with it's rich cream. As the old man withdrew his ruined slime covered cock from the willing tramp's sodden cunt the he noticed that the girl was pushing her torso upward voluntarily making the thin cords encircling her painfully swollen teats cut further into the the tender flesh.

He sniggered to himself as he walked to where his son had tied the massive dog. He untied the beast and sat to watch the spectacle. Chapter 13 The great black beast immediately buried his snout in the girl's dripping quim, his thick tongue lapping up the mixture of the old man's spent seed and the musk drooling uncontrollably from the young slut's pussy. Conquistador, shambled from side to side his tongue a blur as he struggled to get at every musky drop. The greasy hair on Hatori's upper lip moved as his lip curled in amusement. His slanted eyes never left the underside of the big dogs stomach as the red club of the dog's penis slowly extend from it's hairy sheath. Ever since Hatori had acquired the large dog as a pup he knew that the dog's endowment was 'special'.

He had taken great delight in forcing Maria to allow the dog to do 'whatever' the dog had liked in the 4 years he had had her. The dog liked the smell and taste of women. He had never needed encouragement to mount Maria, the first time had been when she was on her knees cleaning, and as it happened she had been in season. He remembered the panic in Maria's face when the 200lb dog had mounted her.

Hatori had had to grab the surprised little hispanic by the hair to restrain her and after a few sharp blows, the young girl had let the dog have his way. After that the dog had acquired a taste for her, using her just about as often as Hatori. Tahio's cock seemed on the verge of splitting its' own skin. The pulsing of the choking girl's throat and the milking of her tongue along the underside of the sensitive shaft sent him over the edge. 'He-e-e-e,uh-uh,huh-huh,hee hee' the moron babbled as his shaft exploded, his large balls sending pulse after pulse of cum into the girl's throat. Gagging and struggling for breath, her breath exploded out of her nose carrying with it streamers of thick white cum that draped her lips and greased the great tube of muscle that continued to ravage her mouth and throat.

Pulse after pulse of semen, streaked with white ribbons of sperm splashed her throat and coating her tongue and teeth as the great cock continued to piston in and out of her face. The poor girl could taste nothing but the delicious white spunk as it coated her tongue and cloyed her taste buds. At last the boy withdrew the delicious prong far enough that she could suckle at the bulbous end. The girl's cheeks hollowed suctioning as much of the thick cream as she could. As it dribbled down her chin, her small mouth filled to overflowing.

'M-M-M-M-h, a-a-a-h, M-m-m-muh', the teen mumbled as she struggled to suck and swallow every precious drop of the boy's thick sperm laden semen. Rachel vaguely felt the new onslaught on her raw cunt as she bent to the delightful task before her. To the poor girl, the thick white fluid was precious nectar, the symbol of the new communion that marked the new covenant between her and those she sought to please. Her old religious crutch had been replaced by a new and more powerful addiction. She was forever to be a servant she knew. Gone was the old Rachel, replaced by a groveling wretch, eager to please anyone, anyone with a hard spewing cock to fill her and to make her whole, to validate her new existence. Her eyes gazed upward at the face of the boy idiot as he withdrew the meaty prong she had been suckling.

The act drew a childish whimper from the girl, as though a child had been denied a toy. The shapely teen's petulance lasted but a second as her muscular back absorbed the full weight of the the huge black dog's chest and shoulders. 'Uh-h-h-h-h, ah-ah-ah-ah!' , the pretty teen groaned as her arms momentarily buckled under the weight causing excruciating pain in her nostrils as the hooks pulled at her tender nose. The large dog shuffled forward on his muscular hind legs, his great back forming an arch over the girl's kneeling form. Each vertebrae of the dog's back stood out in clear relief under his sleek coat, his front legs grasping the sleek flanks of the trapped girl's torso. Panic born of the sudden pain rushed through Rachel's mind, realization fought through the fog of fear slowly.

Only when she heard the cruel mocking words of the old man's did she know how much further humiliation would go. The boy had joined his father to watch as the great dog struggled to take his turn at the willing slut. The sleek columns of the girl's thigh rippled with effort to accommodate the dog's weight. The muscles in her firm arms and arched back stood out as well as they took up the weight of the 200lb dog.

Conquistador's member was nearly fully extended now, the thin hairy sheath still encasing the knob of the dogs knot fully 9 inches from the tip of the thick blunt nose shaft. The bright red tube glistened, its surface mapped with thin purple veins. Widest in the middle, it's blunt shape danced between the upright thighs of the teenage girl as it hung downward beneath the dog under its apparent weight.

Hatori could see the dog's great scrotum as if filled the gap between its muscular rear legs. The dog's huge cock drubbed against the girls engorged clit as it hung too low to reach the leaking mouth of the girl's cunt. Realization dawned in the mind of the pretty young slut as she felt the constant maddening drubbing against her swollen raw clit.

Uh-uhnn', the pretty teen whimpered in pathetic resistance. 'The mongrel dog is mounting me', the beautiful girl's mind screamed. She knew then that what the old priest said was true, she truly was the lowest whore in god's creation, a slut bitch, low enough to be the lover of a common cur dog. The thought hit her demonic licentious nerve like an electric shock, her guts knotted in exquisite anticipation, her skin prickling as the depravity of the act permeated her luscious body like a vile invisible poison, contaminating and degrading the flesh of her flawless body.

Every part of her responded, the tips of her tortured breasts throbbed as the thin cord cut into them, the majestic heavy bags of her tits swelled and throbbed and her raw and ravaged cunt gushed its liquid approval at the depraved thought of it. The last tattered shred of decency and self esteem of the beautiful teen died as her knees flexed to lower her bottom in an effort to offer an easier target for her bestial lover. Reason no longer existed in the attractive girl's mind, only the desire to please, her bestial love, to play the cur bitch to the mindless beast. The mindless desire to please, to get in return the wonderful release of the flesh had undone a lifetime of learning, of teachings. The beautiful young slut clenched her eyes as she endured the pain that her efforts to captured the fleshy invader brought to her nose and breasts.

Conquistador pranced and danced on his thick hind legs, his fleshy spear skittering between the bitch's thighs leaving slick trails across her stomach. The dog's thick tongue trailed strings of saliva across the willing girl's muscular back as his hunched form seemed to meld with the arched back of the young human bitch beneath him. His insistent pressure was matched by the backward push of her firm buttocks, both were rewarded as the blunt nose of the engorged red spear slotted between the sodden lips of her swollen labia, caught for an instance in the distended mouth of her raw cunt, then with a rush slid in to the hilt like a sword sheathing itself in her guts. Chapter 14 'Uh-n-n-n-n-h', was all the poor girl could manage as the great dog cock speared into her it's blunt head crashing into her swollen cervix and sliding beneath it invading a portion of her abused cunt that had only recently been touched by the exploring fingers of the old japanese pervert. The fleshy spear lanced forward to bury itself against the wall of her vagina stretching and bruising the tender resilient flesh.

The fingers on her bound hands dug into the wood of the floor, her eyes were wide but unseeing as the enormity, the utter depravity of what had just happened broke upon her. 'She had let it happen, No, she wanted it to happen, she willingly helped it happen', she thought. 'You utter slut, you, sick perverted whore', her mind screamed out.

'You are worthless, you are the lowest creation on earth, a mere sperm sump, destined to be a haggard slut, diseased and forever marked by the debased sins you are willingly committing.' These exhortations, the last whimper of the dying morality she had recently held rang hollowly in the vacuum of her mind. 'Oh, yes, this is s-o-o-o- perverted, so-o-o- nasty.and I love it,' another voice in her head countered as she arched her back pushing her ass back towards her bestial lover.

The beautiful young woman seemed to wallow in the depravity of her situation. Mere days ago she would have been physically ill at the thought of the act she now performed with relish. Like a maggot squirming in the moldering filth of a decaying corpse, she bathed in the supreme depravity of the act and the degradation she willing pursued. The thick red canine shaft, fully 8' around at it's thickest point pistoned in and out of the groveling slut as the black dog rutted between her spayed cheeks that she willing offered up.

All pretenses had been discarded, she willingly played the bitch to the humping animal. The small mouth of her abused cunt stretched mouth like around the slick red member. The strained tissue of her labia caressed the length of the slimy bestial cock as it withdrew only to rush back as the great animal's hips pounded out a rapid staccato against the firm globes of her white ass. The red lips were stretched to a pale band wet with a white foamy paste as they tortured lips swabbed their mingled juices from the pounding rod like a hydraulic seal. A puddle of drool pooled warmly on her back mixing with the beads of sweat along her arched spine.

The great beast's flews were flecked with foam from his exertions. The poor slut heard nothing but the heavy breathing of the huge dog and her own whimpering mews.

She rutted like a common cur bitch, playing whore to the mindless beast to satisfy his animal urge. The beautiful slut licked her cum covered lips, her tongue protruding from her open mouth as if to make room for the huge animal cock that filled her to bursting. 'Uh-h-h-h-h-h-h', she groaned as the blunt ram continued to bruise the far wall of her cunt. It's rapid passage lubricated by her own secretions. She struggled to take the punishing cock, to accept in return the wonderfully wicked feelings it gave her. Her red swollen clit was now pummeled repeatedly as the dog's knot pounded against her stretched labia. The old japanese stared with a wicked grin as he saw the dog's knot beating against the stretched mouth of the beautiful girl's quim.

No, he admitted to himself, it was too big. The girl mustn't be hurt, today. She was still the property of the old Padre. The two lovers seemed one. The form of the girl, her pale flawless skin glistening with sweat, the huge dog arched over her laboring form, it's sleek black coat shining in the light, were joined by the wrist thick shaft of red meat.

The pale skin of the beautiful slut began to flush as she neared her release. The torment of her red raw cunt had turned to the tension of pleasure as her bruised clitoris continued to swell under the hammer blows of the dog's hardening knot. She felt it before the mindless beast knew as she felt the red shaft swell to bursting, wringing yet another whimper from the bruised cum clogged throat of the attractive slut. Suddenly she felt the first hot jets from the impossibly swollen cock bath the abused walls of her stretched cunt.

Jet after jet of hot dog cum washed the pain away in a soothing shower of bestial essence. The rush of hot animal release sent the slut into a long mind bending orgasm, her dirty fingers scrabbling against the rotted wood floor, the toes of her filth caked feet curling as her tense muscles bunched and knotted as she found the rapture that she so sought. She arched her sleek back, tensing the round globes of her buttocks in an effort to squeeze every second of pleasure from the humming nerves of her throbbing clit. The crazed girl could feel the entire shape of the bestial shaft as it filled her bottom, pumping her full of it's life giving load. Already her system was alerted to the flood of alien sperm and was beginning to annihilate the squirming hoard as it labored up the opening of her dilated cervix.

A shudder wracked the beautiful girls body as the huge dog dismounted, his dripping cock dangling beneath him like an obscene red sausage. In the after glow of her orgasm, the poor girl began to sob. She cried with the realization that she was forever lost. The dog walked to the door and whimpered. Hatori motioned to his son to remove the dog.

As the door closed behind the boy. Hatori fisted his cock as he watched the stream of dog cum run like a string of mucus from the stretched and dilated mouth of the beautiful girl's bottom. He walked to the raised head of the girl and surveyed her swollen cum encrusted lips. 'You suckee mee missee, and maybe I let the doggie have you again. You like?, the old man chorled. Rachel, had been born again, only as a mindless whore, a lowly slut. The old Rachel would have died as the head of the bound girl struggled against the confining nasal hooks, to nod her head in agreement, as she extended her pink tongue in invitation to the old man's swollen cock.

** Chapter 15 Alone in the now dark room, Rachel heard the door open as the old Padre returned. She recognized his steps on the wooden floor, which stopped abruptly halfway across the room. The Padre paused and raised the lamp to better see the girl.

The sympathy he felt evaporated in a cloud of rage when he saw her in the lamplight. The beautiful girl's pale skin was streaked with dried semen, on the floor beneath her swollen open labia was a pool of congealing animal cum. The skin of her round firm ass, once flawless was a network of scratches from the old Orientals scrabbling fingers.

The hood that had covered her head was gone, her head was covered by a matted clot of blond hair. The candle gag was gone, in it's place was a dried crust of cum around the girl's mouth.

Her lips swollen and puffy. 'So, you truly have found your calling you brazen whore!!' 'Being a slut for god is not enough to satisfy your hungry cunt, you soulless abomination!!' The Padre walked to the wall and removed a leather scourge that some of the more zealous locals sometimes used during festivals to do penance. 'Uh-h, Uh-h, No-o-o-o-o, the girl protested as the first blow landed on the smooth skin of her muscled back and ass. He began to flail at the helpless girl, her white white skin making an unmissable target. 'You foul abomination, you are to god's purpose and none others, only he can debase you for his will.

You offer yourself up like a common slut, in violation of his will.' He eyes blurred and it was no longer the poor young vessel of lust before him but the hated woman that had once betrayed his with another. He lashed out his anger at her, smashing the sneering smile, the faithless flesh that had robbed him of his manhood. The long leather tails of the lash raised livid red and blue welts across the flawless skin of the beautiful teens back and buttocks as the crazed priest bent to his demented work. His arms knotted as he flailed at the helpless trembling form before him his black bulk towering over her as she groveled kneeling. The long leather tongues seemed to caress and lick the girl as they wrapped themselves lovingly around the curves of her jerking and trembling form, kissing her flanks and the sides of her heavy hanging breasts. The beautiful young girl jerked and tossed bringing renewed agony to her discolored and swollen nipples, and the angry red pits of her nostrils where the cold steel hooks held her fast.

Nothing was spared the unforgiving kiss of the lash. The Padre paid special attention to the ripe wet target made by the cleft of her proud ass cheeks and the swollen dripping labia that nestled between the columns of her white thighs. The merciless hard edged leather did its work without conscience, bringing piteous whimpers from the attractive young woman. Rachel's mind exploded with insane pain as the coarse leather bit into her sensitized flesh.

She thrashed and jerked but soon knew that any movement brought only more pain. Soon the pain in her back, a swollen mass of hot welts gave way to the searing pain of her cunt as the old sadistic priest laid the lash into the swollen wet cleft between her legs.

Her whimpers were soon lost amid the heavy breathing of the old priest as he labored over his defenseless victim. 'May god' save your unrepentant soul, you foul whore's spawn.' He wheezed as his anger abated. His anger clouded eyes now saw the wretched sight before him and his heart clutched in sympathy. The bound girl, trembled before him, her once flawless skin now a network of livid red and blue welts, some weeped where the leather had nearly drawn blood. Her pitiful whimpers were broken by quiet sobs, the floor beneath the girl spotted with tears amidst the drops of dried cum.

The old black Padre was ashamed for what he had done to the girl. True she had behaved as a brazen slut for an unknown man or men, that was certain. But, she had been in no position to prevent it.

His heart felt sad and he was sickened that he had lost control of himself and had in part enjoyed it as the throbbing in his groin attested. He victimized the girl to assuage the anger he felt at himself and the betrayer of his heart. He hurried to the poor teens side and gently unbuckled the restrains binding her hands and knees. He cut the thin cords that cruelly pulled on her luscious breasts and lifted her semen stained face from the metal hooks. The poor girl looked at him with gratitude as she crawled from her perch, legs too numb to stand.

She faltered, her mind mind awash with memories of the days pain and pleasure. The spark of lascivious depravity sprang into flame as she caught her reflection in the mirror that stood fastened against the wall. She looked intently, her pink tongue peeked out to wet her swollen cum encrusted lips. Her beautiful hair matted with sweat and semen.

She raised a had to a swollen discolored nipple still painfully bound, and felt it's blood swollen sensitivity. Her eyes beheld a wretch that she could scarcely recognize, bruises and welts covered her once flawless skin, dried yellow cum stained her face, and she could see the red raw flesh of her bottom glisten with others leavings and her own guilty secretions. Without thinking the lost slut lowered her head to the floor as if to find comfort. Her cheek pressed against the dirt of the rotting wooden floor. Her tiny hands ventured back along her flanks, fingers splayed she gripped the firm cheeks of her abused ass and splayed them exposing the angry wet mouth of her cunt.

The thick red sentry of her clit was erect and swollen. She arched her back and elevated her bottom as she wagged her splayed cunt in invitation to the old Padre.

Chapter 16 The morning sunlight leaked through the old shutters on the window and woke Rachel from her dreams. The beautiful young woman's head swam with visions of spurting cocks. She was imbibing from their creamy fountains, their viscous loads filling her mouth to overflowing, bathing her face and chest. Other muscular tubes assaulted her cunt and ass, stretching her, their throbbing girths making her feel safe and secure with their filling presence.

The maddening throb of her swollen oversized clit under the persistent rubbing of the demanding cocks was a reassuring constant. She was on a long liquid ride her heavy breasts swaying and bouncing with her labored exertions. The attractive young girl rose in a trance like state, barely aware of the actions she had willing performed over the last 48 hours.

Her fall had been so far in so short a time that it too seemed a dream. Each step reminded her it was reality, her new reality, she had become, of her own accord, a willing and enthusiastic whore, a slut to every virile cock that wanted to use her. Her abused cunt was raw from the men and yes, beasts that had used her. She felt the sticky wetness that still dribbled from her stretched and aching cunt.

It wet her bottom, the crevass between her firm cheeks thoroughly greased by the leftover sperm. Her back and buttocks throbbed from the lashing she had received from the old Padre, her nipples, face and knees hurt too. Then she remembered, the in her knees was from the fucking the old Padre had given her. Her face burned with shame as she remembered offering her dripping bottom to the old priest. She could still feel how his cock slicked into her distended cunt on the spent sperm that coated her insides. She could still feel the raw ache as her knees and cheek, grated across the old wooden floor as the old black Padre had fucked into her upturned cunt with a maniacal fury.

She remembered the insane lust she felt as she helped in her own degradation. She recalled the cramping in her stomach as she used her strong supple muscles to milk the old man's cock, how she had reached back to fondle and cradle his swaying balls, trying to make it good for him. Her last memory was of the long orgasm she had as she pinched at her swollen clit with her own grimy fingers, scratching and clawing at the sensitive nerve bundle to heighten her own pleasure as the old priest filled her raw and aching young cunt with the dregs from his withered balls.

The beautiful 18 year old walked to the hook on which hung the simple cotton peasant dress, all that remained of her belongings. The Padre had removed her suitcase and other belongings. Even denying her footware. She raised her arms painfully, the welts and bruises crying out from her movements. The light from the window shone across the broad white expanse of her large breasts as she put on the old dress. Her heavy breasts swayed within the loose confines of the dress, the long fingers of her red nipples clearly visible through the light fabric.

She walked out of her room and down the dark hallways of the church. She dreaded what awaited her at the laundry. Her dread was mixed with a sick sense of anticipation.

What did she have to hide from them? They had taken her, they had degraded her in a way that was beyond her imagination. And still she was excited at the prospect what might await. She stepped from the dark church into the bright light of a new day.

Chapter 17 The young missionary girl walked into the laundry, her bare feet leaving dust footprints on the floor. The front of the shop was empty, the wash area vacant. She continued to the back looking for Maria or Hatori and his son. The thin cotton of her dress had already begun to cling to her in the hot humid air of the shop.

Her large breasts joggled heavily on her chest within the loose confines of her dress, their size and weight pushing the front open, as her crude belt tried to hold the front of the dress closed. She walked into the back of the shop and paused momentarily as her eyes adjusted to the relative darkness. Her breath caught in her throat, her saliva rising as she saw the sight before her. There the young Bolivian girl, Maria was on her knees naked to the waist, Tahio's log like cock filling the girl's mouth. The girl's thick black hair hung down, obscuring her face as she bent to her task. The large mixed breed cur was busily lapping at the crevass of the young girl's swaying bottom. Tahio's large right hand played with the dark brown saucer sized nipples that capped the girl's large tan breasts.

Her bottom throbbed at the realization that she had looked like this only last night. Rachel could tell that this was not the first time for Maria, her small hand kneading and caressing the wrinkled sack of the boy's oversized scrotum with practiced motion. Mews and whimpers of satisfaction came from her gorged mouth as the boy's hands tormented the girl. Rachel had but an instant to feel the fleeting pangs of jealousy and envy that blossomed in her. Bony hands gripped her shoulders and pulled her toward the waist high counter. The beautiful girl offered no resistance as the old man pulled her toward him, she could not pull her eyes away from the huge pistoning cock locked between the hispanic girl's lips.

The hungry smacking and gurgles from Maria's lips filled the pretty American's head as she felt the old man's bony fingers at the neck of her dress. The young girl refused to pull her eyes away from the lascivious display, as the old man peeled the thin cotton dress away from her shoulders and pushed it down her eyes to bunch uselessly around her waist.

The old japanese looked at the tall American girl before him. The withered yellow skin of his hands contrasted with the pale white skin of the girl's naked torso. The old man's slanted eyes narrowed as he saw the livid red and blue welts that marked the girl's shoulders and sides. He ran a withered finger along a livid blue line that marked the creamy white side of one of the girl's heavy breasts.

The compliant girl seemed in another world as his bony finger traced the circumference of her pink aureole, it's surface erupting into a forest of bumps as it contracted, the long thick nipple that crowned the mound of flesh hardening. The old man scooped up one of the huge mounds in his withered hands, marveling at it's heavy firmness. Rachel stood lost in envious desire unable to pull her eyes away from the carnivorous display as the girl swallowed the huge yellow cock.

Suddenly she felt the old man's warm mouth engulf the aching nipple of her left breast. She looked down as the old man's rotting teeth sank into the sensitive flesh of the swollen mound. Her heart leapt as the familiar twisting knot flowered in her stomach, its tentacles reaching out to strum the bundle of nerves between her trembling legs. A feeling of bliss came her at the feel of the old man's tongue as he suckled hungrily at the swelling nub of flesh locked between his lips. The sensitive, bruised nipple swelled as he sucked and chewed at the tasty flesh. Releasing the one, he turned his eyes to the other.

Unbidden the girl lifted the heavy bag of flesh with her own hands, lips bared in a tense smile, she offered the luscious orb to the foul hungry mouth of the perverted old man. 'Uh-h-h-h-h, M-m-m-m-m-h,' was all that escaped from the young sluts lips as she stood head back, slack jawed as the wizen old man feasted on the flesh of her heavy swollen breasts like a nursing child. 'You suckle', the old man demanded as he pushed the tall blonde girl to her knees before him. 'M-m-m-m-m-m', was all the beautiful teen could manage, as not yet on her knees her hands shot out eagerly to pull his pantaloons down as she willingly fell to her knees.

The beautiful young missionary girl mumbled happily as she bared the old man's gristly uncut rod. The warty shaft that had so recently used her, loomed over her eager face like a ship's bowsprit. She cooed excitedly as she eagerly nestled between the old man's spindly splayed legs. She smiled up at her tormentor as her little pink tongue snaked out to bath the drippings from the day before from the stinking spear of flesh. She lovingly tongued it from the matted sparse pubes at it's base to it's swollen discolored knobby head. Only days before she would have gagged at the mere thought of what she willingly and happily did now. She gurgled with delight as she lapped the milky discharge from cock's leaking tip.

She lovingly kissed the tip, licking from her swollen red lips the thick discharge, then engulf the head in her anxious young mouth. The old man leaned back against the counter and watched the young white woman make love to his old diseased cock. His eyes burned into the girl as she bent to her thankless task. He ran his calloused hands over her soft skin, capturing a swollen red nipple to torment.

He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, twisting and pulling it viciously. The gurgles and wet slurping coming from the beautiful girl were music to his old ears. He watched as the young slut worked herself in a frenzy as she tasted his rancid pre-cum. He groaned as the teen swallowed the length of his cock, swirling her tongue around t.

THE BOX I must acknowledge Mike Vickers, whose 'Total Rubber Occlusion' set this whole thing in motion and also The House of Gord for never ceasing to give me ideas. A bright sunny morning. She wanted coffee and croissants.

He asked if she were pregnant. She slapped him. It was a normal Saturday. He eased himself through the door balancing the cardboard platter in one hand.

A ray of sunlight filled with dust motes nearly blinded him, but he stumbled onward and through the door to the front room where he stopped as if shot. She was barefoot but otherwise fully dressed for a change. Faded blue jeans fitted her legs and bottom perfectly. A short black top showing more than a little midriff completed her attire; he looked at her and the immediate area around her with more than a little surprise.

'I thought you were taking that back. What the bloody hell is THAT?' She was pacing around the room like a caged animal, her eyes focussed all the while on the black, square, object in the centre. She answered the questions in the order they were asked. 'Don't you like it? It was time for a sigh, even though it was only nine thirty. 'I didn't say that.

YOU said it looked too young and yes, I know it's a box. It's got box written all over it.'

'No it hasn't! It's got FRAGILE in big red letters written all over it!' She did have a literal mind sometimes, but only when the possession of same was likely to irritate him. He set the coffee and croissants down carefully on the top of the box and looked at her as calmly as he could. ' I know what it says and I know what it is, but why is it here and what exactly is in it?' Slowly and carefully as if to a child who wasn't really listening, then suddenly suspicious, ' Have you been ordering things again? We've still got three hundredweight of vet wrap in the cupboard, thanks to you!'

She tutted and then she raised her head. He found himself looking into small dark pupils.

Dark and intense. It's very heavy!' 'Is it ours?' 'Of course it's bloody ours, it's got our address on it!' 'Well I didn't order anything' She was looking at him again and she realised the implication.

' and neither did I!' She didn't actually say, 'so there!' But it was implied.

She was still looking at him. There was something in her eyes.

Something that he very seldom saw and therefore didn't readily recognise. She walked around the box until she was standing close to him.

So close that he could smell her, a smell that was always somehow intoxicating. She had washed her hair but that was all. She wore no perfume, but her smell was there, warm and inviting as always but mixed right now with something else. He opened his mouth to speak but she shushed him with a finger to her lips. She moved closer and whispered in his ear, causing him to shiver.

'There are holes all around it. He did as he was told.

It was a warm day and the flat was quiet. There were no central heating noises to obscure any sounds. As his ears became accustomed to the silence there was a definite pulsating noise coming, apparently, from the bottom of the box and there was also something else. A regular sound. Not a hiss but surely something slightly sibilant. Regular and quite slow. Slightly mechanical as if aided somehow.

Slow and deep. He looked at her in amazement. She simply stared back at him. Her pupils now big and round.

It wasn't fear in her eyes he realised now, but something he had seen much more often and had misinterpreted. For some reason he felt the need to whisper. She touched his hand briefly and then moved back toward the box. I've heard it too many times before!' He looked at her quizzically for a moment and then it dawned on him. Sensory deprivation.

All the times she had been blindfolded and her ears plugged. Bound and gagged.

Unable to move. Her senses on hold. She touched the box briefly. Almost a caress.

And then she squatted down on her haunches and looked up at him. ' It's like the noise you hear in your own ears. Only the heartbeat's missing. Bloody hell, you of all people should have recognised it. You've heard me often enough!'

She paused for a moment and put her head against the wooden side of the large, black painted box. Then she looked up again, ' Bill, there's someone in this box and we've got to get them out of it!' * Once Sheila had set her mind to something she never gave up. Someone had once described her as 'a little terrier'.

He personally thought that 'great big Rottweiller' would have been a more adequate description but as he watched her now he couldn't put the image of a small Jack Russell worrying at a bone out of his mind. And all the time she was whistling something, fairly tunelessly, through her teeth.

Many people contended that women couldn't whistle, but this one could and it was only after several minutes that he realised what she was whistling. In fact when he returned, as ordered, with the pliers in his hand, the whistling had turned to song. Breathy and indistinct, but song nonetheless. 'I ache for the touch of your lips dear, But much more for the touch of your whips, dear' 'The Masochism Tango' by Tom Lehrer.

Something he had introduced her to by pure accident, or rather, something that he had downloaded because it was no longer available on the High Street and that she had stumbled across one evening. Nearly fifty years old and yet as fresh and exquisitely silly as the day it was written, it had subsequently been played so many times since that he had begun to fear for his sanity. Suddenly he felt eyes on him. He came out of his reverie and moved his head slowly in her direction.

She was standing stock-still. Bare feet apart, hands on hips. Then one hand began to move slowly forward until it was outstretched in front of him. He shook his head as if to clear it.

He couldn't see but he was quite sure she was tapping her foot. He slapped them into her hand as if giving them to a surgeon. 'Are you actually going to help or do you intend to stand there like a great gormless Pratt for the rest of the morning?' 'Er, too many cooks! I didn't want to get in your way.' Which was true, but he made a mental note of the insult in his own personal demerit book. He moved closer to the side of the box and to her.

The breathing sounded much louder now. 'Okay, what do you want me to do?' She bent over to pick up a large screwdriver. 'I want you to stick that in there.' He looked at the rear end only a few tantalising inches away from him.

I thought you wanted to get the box open!' It only took a second for her to turn round, still bent over, and head butt him in the stomach, but it took him several minutes to regain his composure. * After a quarter of an hour of hard and fairly useless labour they were both sweating. The breathing noise had changed in tone. It seemed quicker now and somehow more urgent, whilst the box seemed relentlessly impenetrable.

The top was smooth and it was nailed in place, the nails fitting into bevels like screws and impervious to pliers. Trying to pry it open with the screwdriver had proved a disaster and had left him with a cut hand and her with a torn top. He tried to tell her that a plaster would have been fine but the only answer he got was,'Fuck off, shut up and let me wrap this round your hand!' From her crouched position she now looked up at him. 'Will you stop bloody panting for a minute and let me listen?' She put her ear to the side of the big wooden box that was the size and shape of a tea chest and listened intently.

'It's a lot quicker. Do you think they're running out of air?' He crouched down beside her. 'Shouldn't think so, there's plenty of air holes and that other noise sounds to me like it could be a fan of some sort.' 'Yeah, well you could be using up all the air with that heavy breathing of yours!'

'You don't usually complain!' 'Well I'm not usually trying to open a frigging box with only a bent screwdriver and Guy the Bloody Gorilla to help me am I?' She put her face close to the box, laid her palms flat on the surface and closed her eyes as if trying to read it psychically. When she reopened them and looked at him her face was a mask of concern. 'We've got to get her out of there Bill. We've got to!'

He looked at her puzzled. 'How do you know it's a girl?' ' I just know! She can't stay in there forever and we're just making things worse!' She looked down at her torn top and his bandaged hand. Blood from the cut was already beginning to seep through the wrapping.

He in turn looked at her, at the woebegone expression on her face and then at the box and made his decision. He said and strode purposefully out of the room. He didn't see her grasp both hands together and place them tightly against her cheek. 'Oh I love it when you're strong and silent!' She batted her eyelids seductively. The room was quiet again but the sound of breathing seemed to fill the void left by him.

The only other sound was that of the word 'bollocks' being said quietly and through clenched teeth from somewhere in the hall. * Her eyes opened wide with astonishment when he returned to the room. 'What's this?

The Texas Circular Saw Massacre?' It had been his Father's and he had never used it before - but there was a time and a place for everything. 'Got any better ideas?' 'The idea is to get her out of there - not cut her bloody head off!'

He put the electric saw down on the leather sofa and took her hand. 'I have no intention of cutting her head off. I'm just going to cut through the lid at the four corners which ought to release it enough to let us get the screwdriver underneath it fully and get some proper leverage on it.' He looked down at his hand, which was beginning to throb painfully, '.Okay?' She looked at him sceptically.

'Be careful!' 'It's all right, I definitely don't intend to do myself any MORE damage today!'

'Not you, numb nuts! He shook his head a little to clear it of pain and Sheila and then he moved over to the sofa, picked up the saw's plug and began looking for the nearest socket. Sheila meanwhile had dropped to her knees again and had adopted what appeared to be an attitude of prayer.

Fascinated, he plugged the saw in and crept quietly behind her. ' and I want you to stay right in the middle. Do you understand? Stay right in the middle.

Now in a little while you're going to hear some noise - don't be frightened, it'll seem loud but we're doing it to get you out of there. Just stay in the middle of the box and stay still' He touched her lightly on the shoulder. 'Do you really think they, er, SHE, can hear you?' She looked up at him earnestly. I always hear YOU.' He winced at the still quite painful memory of the time he had mummified her, at her own request and, with great care and attention, proceeded to blindfold her, gag her, plug her ears and place tubes in her nostrils to restrict her breathing only to have her hear every word he had said to her whilst apparently oblivious to everything.

He thought for a moment. 'Mmm, but that's different, you've never been looked in a box with no obvious way of getting out.'

She looked at him sharply. There was something in his tone.

Something vaguely wistful that suggested that it would, somehow, be a good idea, but before she could say anything he had moved back to the couch, hefted up the circular saw and placed it on the nearest corner of the box that had become their nemesis. Before switching on he took a final look at her, but she was communing once more with the box's inhabitant. The sun had gone in and one of the frequent squally showers that had been around for the last few days was beating against the windows. The light seemed to fade as he watched, causing even Sheila to look up and then dart towards the light switch but she never made it because as she straightened he switched on the power just as the clock struck eleven and the box suddenly and for no apparent reason came abruptly to life. It began with a whirring noise, like a small but powerful electric motor and then the seemingly impenetrable lid began to move sideways. He stood immobile, the lid still sliding forward and the saw buzzing powerlessly away in his hand. Sheila seemed to be drawn towards the box.

'Turn that bloody thing off!' He did as he was told and then dropped the saw harmlessly onto the couch. It was obvious now that the nails in the lid and the lid itself were no more than dummies because, as it finally slid as far as it would go to the right, it revealed a second lid that was really two halves of good quality sanded and bevelled wood. For a few seconds neither of them moved and then he saw it.

Wispy at first but becoming rapidly thicker. Smoke was beginning to rise from the body of the box, but it quickly became apparent that it wasn't the smoke produced by burning material because it smelt sweet and cloying and it was rapidly filling the room. Sheila was edging closer and closer as if hypnotised and drawn toward the box by some kind of spell and the second lid was beginning to open, both halves raising themselves upwards like Tower Bridge and more and more smoke was pumping out and into the small lounge.

Afraid of what might happen next, he lunged forward and grabbed her around the waist. She whirled round on him as if assaulted 'What the fuck are you doing?' Her eyes were wide with anger.

'You don't know what's in there!' The smoke was thicker now. So thick that they could no longer see the walls of the room. 'What are you expecting? A bloody alien or something?' There was a hissing sound.

It was coming from the box. He tried to push her away.

To put her behind him so that he could look inside but Sheila wasn't easily sidelined. She struggled away from him. I said fuck off! You can't protect me all your bloody life, now let go!' Reluctantly he eased his grip on her and she shouldered herself forward and to the edge of the black box. He followed, not wanting to lose sight of her in the smoke. She was leaning over and peering inside when he caught up with her.

She stifled a gasp. He looked inside. The box was still hissing and it seemed to have a lining. A black shiny lining. A back shiny lining with a strong, all pervading smell.

Glistening as if it had been coated with something. Something clear and shiny. Almost like mucous, but the black lining was still receding as if it had previously been filled with something and it continued to hiss. She reached forward and touched the shiny substance. They were in a totally unreal world now. Surrounded by nothing but smoke.

Cut off from reality. She recoiled.

He reached out and touched it as well and his spine juddered. It was cold and slimy, the way you would expect a snake to feel and it was still moving back and then finally it dawned on him. The texture, the hissing noise, the smell 'Air bags!

They're air bags like in a car. Black rubber air bags. If there IS anyone inside there they'd be held rigid.' She glanced up at him and this time he recognised the look in her eyes. 'Wouldn't be able to move?' Absolutely immobile. Held in place by the pressure of the bags.'

Her eyes brightened and then dimmed. She touched the slippery, shiny lining again and her voice was little more than a whisper. 'What about this?' He shook his head. 'Don't know' The hissing had ceased now, only to be replaced by another noise.

The smoke was now so dense that he wondered if it would set off the alarm in the kitchen. He turned because normally he would have been able to see whether the door was open or closed but all he could see now was thick white smoke. Her voice was low and quiet. It felt as if his head snapped back into position. She touched his hand and held onto it. He closed his own around hers.

There was movement inside the box. Something was beginning to rise from out of its padded confines. Something dark and rounded. Something shiny and glistening. Something alive because its breathing could now be heard very clearly, rasping back and forth, in and out, slowly and deeply, resounding from corner to corner of the smoke filled room and adding greatly to the air of unreality. Sheila was standing next to him, her hand still in his, unable to take her eyes from the glistening creature that was emerging, like a monstrous butterfly, from its cocoon. 'What the fuck is it?'

He shook his head. 'Don't know!'

It was black. Black and shiny like the inside of the box. It was human. Or at least it had a human shape.

It had arms but they were somehow pinioned to its sides. Black and shiny legs that seemed incapable of parting. The torso was slim and shapely and recognisably feminine. Small pert breasts and nipples that were plainly visible and obviously erect.

But the head The head was not of this world. It was huge shiny and bulbous. Black and featureless. Rotund and glistening.

The strong but somehow comforting smell of rubber seemed to permeate the entire room. There was something else too. Sheila was already moving around the box.

Studying the creature from every angle while he watched for signs of movement, or anything which might mean danger, but the creature seemed thankfully inert at the moment. Sheila waved a hand in front of her face to clear smoke away and then she stopped as if frozen to the spot, her voice no more than a whisper. 'Bill, come here and look at this' He was still watching the gleaming creature that seemed only an inch or so shorter than himself. 'What is it?' He asked absentmindedly, but there was no reply.

Sheila was no longer visible in the smoke and, suddenly panicked, he called her name and started forward only to bump into something in what was now a whiteout. He recoiled but he felt something clawing at him from the side and in self-defence he threw out a hand. 'It's me you Pratt!' He stopped instantly. 'What's wrong?' 'What's wrong?

That's what's wrong!' His eyes followed her hand. 'She's got a tail Bill. She's got a fucking tail!' * Coal black and glistening the creature stood in front of them unmoving, seemingly oblivious to their presence.

It reminded him, to some degree, of the pictures of Hans Rudi Giger, the man whose designs were used to create the original 'Alien'. Just one thing was missing - a face. Sheila had been right about the tail but closer examination proved it to be more of an umbilical cord than anything else.

An umbilical cord that horrified Sheila. 'And you're telling me that it goes up her Garry?' Smoke was still issuing from the bottom of the box and she tried to blow some away that was wisping across her face. Her Garry Glitter! It's rhyming slang, Linda uses it all the time!' 'Rhyming slang?

'No, you great ponce! Garry Glitter - shitter. Poo chute, ring piece, jacksie, tradesman's entrance, anus, BUM!'

He nodded slowly. Well yes, yes it does and while it looks like a tail it's probably wired up to a pair of vibrators that are currently lodged in' 'her arsehole and her fanny?' Unless you're American of course.' She peered at him through the murk at the same time running her hands gently up and down the 'tail'. She asked, innocent as a four year old.

'Well to the Americans a fanny IS aner.' Whereas to us it's a' 'Cunt?' 'Your language' But she cut him off in mid-sentence. 'Fuck my language!' She looked at the tail reflectively, still caressing it gently. 'Doesn't seem to be much going on at the moment.' 'No there doesn't, but you know that humming we heard earlier?'

She nodded, 'Well I think it was working then, but,' And here he looked at the tail more closely, 'I think it serves other functions as well.' Sheila continued to stroke the umbilical while he did his best to explain.

'I think it also carries the wires for a small TENS unit that's probably wired up to at least one of the vibrators.' Sheila's eyes widened in amazement. So she cums and gets shocked all at the same time?'

He shook his head. 'Probably not! I should think that the Vibrators are programmed to come on in short random bursts, as is the TENS unit' She was ahead of him now 'so she gets shocked and fucked but never actually manages to' 'orgasm!

I don't suppose she does. It's like being held in a kind of exquisite agony.' Her face was very close to his now.

'Yes and I know all about that don't I?' The last time he had mummified her he had used a vibrator on her for a very long time but had never actually landed the coup de grace. He watched intently as she once more touched the umbilical that was keeping their reluctant visitor in thrall and decided that now was the time. 'That tail's probably got another purpose as well,' He began, barely able to suppress a smile.

What's that?' Thick white smoke still hovered around them, getting no thicker but showing no signs of dispersing either. 'Well, given the amount of preparation involved and the amount of travelling time, she's probably been in that box for a very long while, which would mean that at some point she would need to pee unless' 'Unless what?' 'What did you used to do when you tied yourself up?' Her eyes flashed momentarily.

It was still a sore point with them both, but it had been the reason they met. Noticing that her mail had not gone and not meeting her on the stairs on the way to work as usual had worried him and he had 'broken in' to her flat using the spare key, only to be attacked by Bruce the cat and to find her bound and gagged by her own hand, dressed in a rubber cat suit and helpless on the couch. 'You know what I did! I fasted and restricted my fluid intake for a day or so before' 'So you never used a catheter then?' 'No I bloody didn't! That's almost as bad as an enema!'

His smile was huge and expansive. 'I think she's already had one of them!'

Sheila's eyes grew even wider. ' And I also think that the vibrator in her, er, front has probably been hollowed out to allow for a tube to pass through it and in turn allow her to, erm, make water.'

'You mean she's been catheterised?' He grinned in triumph. And that 'tail' you're currently holding in your hand probably feels warm because it's conducting the waste away and into a receptacle in the bottom of the box.' Sheila stood motionless for a few seconds regarding him blankly, and then she looked first at the creature and then at the 'tail'. When she did finally speak it was slow and halting. 'So this 'THING' is full of ' He nodded sagely.

He nodded for a third time and with a certain amount of satisfaction. It had taken him a long time to get her to say 'urine'. They stared at each other for what seemed to be an age. 'And I've been holding a tubeful of someone's PISS for the last 5 minutes?' She said slowly and with exquisite distaste. Knowing that Sheila had a mental block where it came to matters scatological and not even noticing that she had lapsed again, he looked her in the eye and took a pace backward 'Probably.'

He nodded for the fourth time. 'YOU BASTARD! You utter bastard!' And she dropped the 'tail' as if it were red hot. CHAPTER TWO Last week she had been called Allison.

Ally to her friends. But now she had no name.

No real identity. She existed to be sustained only by the box.

She was vaguely aware of people around her. Of other entities encroaching on her consciousness but she could do nothing about them in her current state. Her movements severely restricted. A slave to the box that provided her with air and comfort. A complete and utter slave.

And with that slavery came immense and almost total freedom. * 'Simpson, Dodd, Carpenter, good morning.' How's it going?' Good, thanks. How are you?'

'Duckin' and divin' same as always! Listen, can you get any time off?' ' I've got about a week's leave owing me' 'Good! Book it for two weeks time startin' the twenty fifth! Have you still got all those wigs?' I've got this really cool long black one. Makes me look like Morticia out o' the Addams Family.'

You still planning to go back to Sydney for Christmas?' 'Maybe not, money's tight right now.' 'Not now it ain't!

J.D.Wetherspoon's in the Charing Cross Road. Used to be an old cinema.' 'That's the one! Meet me in there at half six. Oh, and you're gonna need those wigs Ally!

'See ya at six thirty.' She put down the phone with more than a half smile playing on her lips. She didn't need explanations right now. She had enough tantalising facts to keep her wondering throughout the day. Whatever it was, it wasn't normal and she loved the abnormal and the strange and she loved a challenge.

She loved to play. But the essence of play was trust and she knew that she could trust the person on the other end of the phone. Trust them implicitly. They had done too much together for her not to. * 'D'you know this suit's absolutely skin tight?

Not a wrinkle anywhere. Not like mine, it's starting to go at the knees!' She was studying their silent guest who stood before them now in the same position as she had been 15 minutes earlier. Like a child who had been told not to do something, Sheila couldn't help but touch the rubber mannequin. 'D'you think she can feel this?

Oh this suit's so soft!' 'It's not a suit. Well most of it isn't anyway.' He was standing behind her with a big grin on his face. She was the most tactile person he knew and she just had to touch things. She couldn't keep her hands off this particular thing. 'Well, what is it then, pillock brain?'

All the while she was stroking and caressing. Touching the rubberised thighs and the latexed shoulders.

His smile just grew wider. Her bare skin. Well, not bare exactly' 'WHAAAT?' Rather than pulling away as some people might have done, Sheila moved in closer. * Allison recognised two of the three people sitting in what had once been the circle of the Academy Cinema, but where there had once been darkness there was now light.

There were glass panels in the roof to let the light in and dark sticky carpet had been replaced by polished pine. The tall woman waved, smiled as she got closer and gave her a sly wink. She pushed a pint glass in her direction. 'Foster's all right?' 'Great thanks.'

The shorter woman with the fluffy blonde hair didn't exactly come out of nowhere, but she wasn't normally the demonstrative type. Ally tended to spark emotion in people. You look really great!' Have you lost weight?'

'No she bloody ain't!' Said a voice in the wilderness, but it went unheeded. They kissed each other on both cheeks, but it was a genuine display of affection, not an actor's greeting. When they were settled down the tall woman touched Ally's glass and said, 'Right!

Get some of that down your neck and say 'ello to Phil Bishop!' The pint remained undrunk as Ally looked up and more closely at the man who had probably made more court appearances than some of the Great Train Robbers.

* It would be fair to say that Sheila was awestruck. She had examined the creature from every possible angle, she had squatted, she had crouched, she had even stood on a chair. She had felt inside the box, she had touched the umbilical cord once again, despite being aware of what it might, or might not contain, and she had touched the creature. The dumb unmoving creature. 'I wonder what she's feeling right now.

I mean, she's alive she wouldn't be drugged would she? Or hypnotised?' He shook his head 'And how did they get her to do this? Did they kidnap her?' He shook his head again, a little nonplussed by Sheila's gentle stroking of the creature's inner thigh. 'I would imagine that she's in a fairly deep state of self induced meditation,' He watched as Sheila's hand crept closer to the apex of her legs, 'Though how long she's likely to keep it up with you around is highly debatable!' Sheila fixed him with a stare for a moment and then the confusion seemed to clear.

And she smiled and turned her attention the mannequin's bottom. 'It's not her you're worried about,' She said, smoothing the soft rump, 'It's you!

You're getting a hard on aren't you?' He studied the tableau before him. The slim barefoot woman with the short boyish hair with a reddish tinge and the taller, obviously female creature, who stood, unmoving, next to her.

Where Sheila wore jeans and a torn black top, the creature wore, or appeared to wear, nothing but rubber. Shiny black latex, that glistened in the late morning sunlight. From a distance a casual observer would have seen a jet black box still wreathed in white smoke with a weird semi human figure protruding from it clad in skin tight and shiny black latex. She was visible from just above the knees and from the time that the box had opened and she had risen slowly from it she had not moved or spoken. Closer inspection would reveal that she was not in fact wearing much latex at all - in the form of clothing. 'What d'you mean?'

'What I said! She's not wearing clothes - it's been painted on to her skin! What she's wearing is liquid latex!' Sheila could not help but touch once more.

She touched the smooth, black flat stomach and felt it contract a little as she did so and then she moved her hand upward toward the small but perfect breasts. The perfect breasts, with the hard erect nipples, which she had to touch. She just had to. Gently at first, like a child stroking a dog for the first time, she reached out and touched the shiny surface with her fingertips and then she moved forward and cupped the left breast with her right hand.

'It feels so soft and so strange! But you're right. It's real skin isn't it? Living, breathing skin. And she's had this painted on her But you can't do that, the skin has to breathe, she'd suffocate' He had moved behind the mannequin, Sheila followed. 'I'm not going to touch her, but if you look there,' He pointed to the small of her back. 'You'll see where flesh meets rubber' She did as asked and saw that the rubber doll was wearing latex pants.

Skin-tight latex pants into which incorporated her umbilical and all the other devices with which she had been fitted before she had been encapsulated in the box that was to become her home, or her prison, depending on point of view. Sheila raised a hand; he instinctively knew what she was going to do and sighed. 'Can't you take my word, just for once?' She looked a little abashed 'I believe you' 'I would guess that the liquid latex and the rubber pants have been sealed somehow and that if you try to pull them out to look for bare skin you could well ruin the whole thing. She doesn't seem to be in any discomfort and she must have been sent here for a reason.' Sheila looked at him sharply.

'Yeah and not for you to bloody play with!' 'Or you,' He said mildly, 'So stop it right now!' Everybody, even the most mature of people, have their childish moments from time to time. You've got a hard on' She stopped chanting and looked up at him abruptly, 'You'd like ME like this wouldn't you.?'

He knew it wasn't a good idea to look away from Sheila, so he didn't. 'I don't think it would be possible to keep you quiet for that long' She put her hands on her hips and thrust out her jaw. So I'm not good enough' He looked ceiling ward, praying all the time for help in understanding the female mind. * Phil Bishop had been something of a cause celebre in the fetish world. Prosecuted more times than he cared to remember under the Obscene Publications Act for something that he saw as completely harmless, he had finally exiled himself to Los Angeles where the authorities took a different and more liberal view of his activities and where, through careful publicity and appearances on TV show's like Jay Leno's and David Letterman's he had become famous rather than notorious Phil Bishop was into bondage in a fairly extreme way, but before he had outed himself as a fetishist he had been considered one of the top ten IT engineers in the country. He could put into practice things that a lot of people could not even begin to imagine and for this he had, in his opinion, been hounded out of the country by the British establishment who, if the truth were known, probably practiced things in private that were far more despicable than anything depicted in his books and magazines. Looking at him now, drawing feverishly on his napkin, Allison saw a slim man in his late forties.

A man, despite everything, who seemed to have a perpetual grin on his face and a man whose mind seemed to be constantly engaged in the solving of problems. Do you think you can do it?' A light, lilting Birmingham accent, with just a touch of California lurking somewhere in the background. He was talking to her. 'You're going to be in there for a long time.'

The tall woman was speaking now, 'But we're literally gonna be with you every step of the way. ' 'Ally, it sounds really dangerous' The large fluffy haired blond woman looked concerned. Phil Bishop was staring straight at her but he did not direct the outburst at her that she was expecting. 'It IS dangerous. But so is crossing the road and if you don't do that, you'll never get anywhere! I've never lost anyone yet Ally, and I don't intend to.

If you move in to a new house you don't expect it to turn on you and it's the same with this. I've designed it to SUPPORT the occupant, not kill 'em and if she wasn't so bloody tall, Lady Heather would have done it, but she just won't fit' The tall woman smiled. 'How is the Mistress?'

Phil smiled back. She's stuck in LA editing our movie with the videographer, but she should be here by next Thursday, just in time to help us get started. I think she'll enjoy playing with you Ally, that's if you want to of course' He looked at her expectantly. Ally had already made up her mind. * Sheila continued to pace round the box, taking in every detail of the rubber doll that stood proudly to attention in front of them.

There was a barely discernible strip of thick black latex that just above waist level that pinned her arms to her sides and her fingers had been laced into thick mittens that had straps around them that turned her hands into useless fists. The whole being covered with liquid latex. Meanwhile Bill was studying her head. Or rather the shiny obsidian globe where her head should be. Surprisingly it was just about the only place that Sheila hadn't felt. He gingerly reached out a hand now and touched the material.

It didn't have the eggshell hardness that he had been expecting; in fact he was quite shocked to find that his fingers made an impression on the material. He was even more shocked when the whole thing seemed to react to his touch. Standing behind the creature that Sheila had started to call Bandy, (half Barbie and half Cindy), she was paying more attention to the curious arrangement on her back, just as her partner gave a stifled cry of surprise and she looked up to see Bandy's head collapsing. * Surprisingly perhaps, for someone who had been brought up in such a hot place, Ally loved the rain and much preferred an English winter to an Australian summer and she felt slightly light headed even now as she ran across the road avoiding the slow moving, virtually gridlocked, traffic on a wet and cold evening in October just a week before her big event was due to take place.

She was in a part of London she had never been before, a long, tree lined, rain shiny, boulevard of a road in Muswell Hill, a road, she had been told, where you could probably see the odd rock star or two on a good day and the road where Dr Virinder Chaudhari had her practice. Doctor Chaudhari had been recommended by the blond haired woman as being sympathetic to their 'cause' and 'a bloody good doctor!' When Phil Bishop had insisted on her having a check up before her ordeal.

She had been a little shocked at first but he would not take no for an answer. 'I don't care how fit you are Ally and I don't care how much yoga you do and how deeply you can meditate, we can't afford to have anything go wrong!

It doesn't matter how you wrap it up, your system's still going to be disrupted and I want you checked out, for your own sake if nothing else' Resistance, to coin a phrase, was futile and Ally knew when to fight and when to give in and on this occasion there was little for it but to give in gracefully. * It was an old but elegant and well maintained house with stairs leading up to the front door and a brass plaque that identified it as 'The Beeches Road Practice', there was no bell visible and when she tentatively touched the door it swung smoothly open. She entered and found herself in a large hall decorated in restful, pastel shades that somehow seemed to make it look larger.

She could make out sounds, gurgling noises and what seemed to be music although it wasn't really discernible from where she stood. A sign to her left above a wooden panelled door suggested that she was close to reception so she gave a perfunctory knock and walked in. It was a large, airy, room with a counter and a dozen or so comfortable chairs arranged around a large marine fish tank from whence the gurgling noise came. The music now readily identified itself as Beethoven's Ninth, the Pastoral Symphony and the room felt calm and peaceful and much more inviting than any other surgery she had ever been in. When she heard movement behind the counter and saw a fairly young woman with long dark hair appearing she moved instinctively towards her.

I'm looking for Doctor Chaudhari?' The woman looked down at the computer in front of her.

'Ally, er, Allison Pearson.' The woman looked up at her appraisingly.

'Come through,' She said, emerging from behind the counter and led the way out of the waiting room. The room had Doctor Chaudhari's name on the front door. The tall longhaired woman walked in front of Ally giving her time to take stock. Long luxurious black hair; black knee high boots, no tights or stockings and a dress straight out of the sixties. A black and white quartered, sleeveless, Mary Quant look-alike, with a hem that finished half way up her thigh.

The woman closed the door and motioned for Ally to sit down. Reflexively she took off her coat and before she could say anything the woman was standing next to her with a small syringe in her hand. 'Are you allergic to eggs?' Puzzled, Ally shook her head and seconds later she felt the needle enter her left upper arm. They exchanged glances, Ally's mind alive with all sorts of suspicions, but the dark haired woman smiled. 'They grow this in eggs. There's a particularly nasty type of flu virus going around this year, wouldn't help if you caught that, would it?'

She stood next to Ally looking her up and down for a few seconds and then she threw the disposable syringe into a sharps bin behind her and turned her attention back to the site of the injection. She took a piece of cotton wool and dabbed delicately at the small puncture and then she moved a little closer and a little closer still and then she lowered her head and bit, very gently, into Ally's neck. * 'What the fuck have you done?' He felt like a small child who had just smashed something precious.

'I haven't 'done' anything. I touched her head and.' Her hands were on her hips now and her legs were slightly apart.

Sheila was in attack mode, but attack breeds defence. He said quietly, noticing that Bandy's head seemed to have stopped deflating, 'It's all right I haven't killed her!' That much was true.

Bandy still stood in front of them seemingly unruffled by the deflation of her head. He was working at a small thin collar around her neck. Sheila studied him curiously. 'What is it?' 'It holds her 'head' in place.

Or rather, it holds the inflatable hood that was covering her face.' 'You're so clever!' It was one of those remarks that didn't necessarily sound sarcastic, but which required him to turn round and study Sheila's face just to make sure. As he did so the hood loosened and rode up to reveal the features beneath. Sheila's gasp of astonishment was enough to make him turn round again.

* Whilst Ally was in the surgery, a few miles due east, in a quiet close adjacent to one of London's smaller parks, a tall woman with long brown and braided hair was lying on a bed in a dimly lit bedroom. Perhaps lying was not the most accurate description of her current position.

Perhaps spread-eagled would better describe her situation. Naked and spread-eagled, with just a tiny patch of trimmed pubic hair to cover any modesty that she might have left. Thick leather bands round her wrists and shapely ankles were attached to chains which were in turn fastened to more leather that held the chains tightly in place in discrete and specially designed niches set into the highly polished walnut and vaguely Art Deco head and footboards, holding her immobile.

The only lighting came from two small halogen spotlights set in the ceiling, but the tall woman would not have been aware of them because over her eyes was a thick, padded, black leather blindfold. She wore nothing else apart from a large, pink and obviously wet ball gag, the largest size available, held in her mouth by a thick black leather strap that was buckled tightly, she might say too tightly, if indeed she could speak at all, at the back of her head. The bedclothes were ruffled, suggesting that the occupant had been as restless as the straps would allow. Also on the rumpled duvet were other things that suggested that at some point a series of fairly violent movements had taken place. There was a feather.

A long white Goose feather, lying not far from her left foot. It's twin lay over to the right where it almost touched a heel. A heel of a foot with carefully painted blue toenails. There were two objects like blunt ended alligator clamps but matt black in colour and connected by a silver chain, lying only inches away from her left breast. Her plump, large nippled left breast, which, according to her partner, was perfectly symmetrical to her right, although both at that precise moment, looked a little redder and a little more prominent than was normal.

There was also something else. Something lying between the woman's outstretched legs.

Something long and shiny. Its surface was actually matt black like the clamps and covered with small knobbly features but right now it gleamed slickly in the overhead lighting. When some senses are taken away others tend to be heightened and although the noise at the bedroom door would have gone unnoticed by most people, the woman on the bed heard it clearly and strained, just a little, at the chains that held her in place. The bedroom door swung open flooding the room with light. The figure in the doorway appeared to be studying her captive, her head posed thoughtfully to one side.

She was not a small woman. Not as tall as the one on the bed but large in other ways.In body and personality. Her large and not particularly saggy breasts were just covered by a towel that was laughably too small for her, showing as it did just the tiniest wisps of blonde pubic hair above her legs. In her hands was another towel with which she was drying her fluffy blonde hair. As silently as she could, she crept forward on bare feet until she was close to the bed and then she reached forward and ran a soft hand gently up her captive's bare thigh.

There was no reaction. The element of surprise gone, she sat down on the bed feeling the mattress give slightly under her weight and dropped the towel with which she had been drying her hair on to the floor and then she leaned forward and touched the small patch of pubic hair that belonged to her friend and partner and then she bent over and, very gently, kissed her naval. She paused for a second or two and then she kissed it again and began to trace upwards with her extended tongue, kissing then licking, licking then kissing, until she reached her large soft breasts, where she broke and planted a kiss, first on one nipple and then on the other and then she continued to kiss and lick until she reached her victim's unprotected throat and she kissed some more. She trailed her tongue up onto her chin across her soft peach like cheek, then delved it into her ear and then breathed gently into it for a few moments. Meanwhile her hands were stroking gently at her captive's body. Going with the grain, fluttering against her breasts and then slipping down to her outer and then her inner thighs and then bringing them up to hold her face in both hands and lightly caress her cheeks.

'Ooh that gag looks sooo big, it must be hurting your jaw by now. Raise your head! Little bit moreGood girl!' Soft eager fingers reached behind the woman's head to unbuckle the gag and lay it, sodden and dripping with saliva, gently on to the bed. The captive pulled a number of faces, smiling, frowning and generally grimacing until she had worked the stiffness out of her jaw, but she was still tied up, still blindfolded and still naked. She let her head drop back onto the soft pillow as it were a lump of lead.

I thought that was never gonna come out' If she had any more to say it was stifled by the blonde woman leaning across her, saying 'Hi' quietly and kissing her gently on the lips. * The adrenaline was beginning to pump through Ally's body, but it wasn't fight or flight that was concerning her right now, it was the feel of soft lips and warm breath against her skin. Like most people Allison Pearson had encountered a lot of dilemmas in her time and would, undoubtedly, face many more. But what she was experiencing now was probably one of the most difficult she would ever come across. On the one hand she was in a strange place, with a woman she didn't know being seduced into God knows what and on the other.

She suddenly realised that there was absolutely no dilemma at all and she extended her arms drew the woman hard against her and slipped her tongue into her ear. * Unsurprisingly Sheila was as close as she could get to Bandy without actually touching her and now she could see the reason for the apparatus on her back. 'A mask, a breathing mask! That's what all the noise was. She's been on oxygen all this time!'

She looked at him reflectively, 'S'posed to be good for the skin y'know, maybe you should try some – look what it's done for Michael Jackson!' Made his nose fall off?' But Sheila was no longer listening. She was staring into the black and shiny, fibreglass visage with hollow but unseeing black eye sockets and a stylised silver mouth with painted on teeth that covered the facemask through which she was drawing oxygen. Although Bandy now had features of some description they were no closer to finding out the true identity of their 'guest' than they had been an hour ago but the breathing noises were louder than ever, she looked at him pointedly. 'Did you sound like this when you were in hospital?'

He shook his head. Never been on oxygen!' She muttered something under her breath. Something that could have been, 'well it's never too late to find out'.

But it was said too quietly and he was too far away from her to be sure. In the meantime Bandy's breath continued to rasp metallically in and out until it seemed to fill the entire room. 'Oh Bill for fuck's sake do something, it's like sharing a room with Darth bloody Vader!' He was already touching the shiny black shell.

'Might not be a good idea to take this off. Might affect her breathing.'

Sheila was kneeling on the floor and trying to peer inside the box at the same time. What does she normally breathe? Methane bloody gas? Mind you, if she lives with some beer swilling, curry eating nonce who shoves her head under the covers when he farts, then she probably has to' He wanted to laugh but he didn't want her to see him, so he adopted his best poker face. 'It looks like it's in two halves y'know, held together by four little screws' Suddenly another face was level with his. 'Well don't just stand there,' Said the face, 'Get going! Typical bloody man!

Never knows the right time to screw!' * 'Are you gonna let me up sometime today or am I gonna be flat on me back all night?' The blonde woman smiled as much to herself as to the tall blindfolded woman.

'Would it be the first time?' She said sweetly, running a gentle hand up and down the tall woman's bare left leg, who, in turn, tried to raise herself off the bed. 'Don't start with me bitch.!' The blonde woman leaned forward and kissed her dark haired friend on the lips once more. Only this time it was a much longer and much more passionate kiss than the last. The dark haired woman sighed and relaxed back onto the bed and the blonde woman, pleased to have the upper hand for once, rolled on top of her. She pressed her lips tightly against her companion's and felt her resistance slide away and her mouth fall open.

They moved sensuously against each other and then she felt a warm moist tongue enter her mouth. 'Oh Linda,' She whispered as best she could, 'I love it when you're angry!'

* Ally hadn't really been aware of leaving the chair, it had been a slide rather than a fall, but she could remember easing a tentative hand under the hem of the dark haired woman's dress and finding soft, smooth and silky skin underneath as she did so. The dark haired woman was now on top of her, something she seemed to relish, and then Ally felt gentle fingers sliding up her own thigh and soft breath against her cheek and then, with no warning, a sharp intake of breath. A hand stroking the soft sensitive recesses of her inner thigh. Lips against her neck. A husky, breathy voice in her ear.

'You're wearing stockings!' Hand touching her lightly on the cheek 'Uh huh. Always do in the winter. Can't stand knee-highs.

Socks make me look like a man. Don't wear much in the summer though.' Ally tried to rise. Tried to roll on top of the dark haired woman, but she resisted and pushed her back against the thickly carpeted floor. Nevertheless Ally continued to slide her hand delicately up the woman's thigh and now it was her turn to be surprised because as she got higher and the flesh became softer she found precisely nothing.

She tried to stifle a gasp. 'Something wrong?'

Asked the dark haired woman, shifting position so that Ally could see up her dress. 'You're not wearing knickers!' 'NEVER wear 'em. Winter OR summer'cept when I make house calls!' And she shifted her position again so that her knees were pinioning Ally's arms to the floor and then she reached back, never taking her eyes off her face and picked up where she had left off, running her fingers around Ally's stocking tops, tracing the suspenders, letting her hand run its way lightly towards her crotch but pulling away before it actually got there. Watching the anticipation on Ally's face, she moistened her lips with her tongue and then bowed her head and kissed her gently on the lips.

'Bet you've never been under the doctor like this before.' She said, rucking up Ally's short leather skirt as high as it would go.

A palpable sigh. 'Is it coming off?' He was standing to the left of Bandy and Sheila was directly behind her. 'These screws are very small, but I think it's loosening.'

'Yeah and you know what thought did! What's this?' There was another collar holding the base of the fibreglass helmet in place.

In trying to shift the collar a little and therefore help loosen the helmet, Sheila had uncovered something that she was peering at curiously. He glanced across at her. Another sigh.

'You've found something. What sort of something?' Sheila looked puzzled. It's attached to the mask, I think. It's like a glass fusey sort of thing but it looks like it's got some sort of liquid in it. A sort of silvery stuff.'

Suddenly he was by her side. What's wrong?' Very slowly he took her hands by the wrist and lowered them until they were at her sides. Mystified she looked into his eyes hoping to find an answer. 'Bill what the fuck is wrong?'

His face looked grim. Much grimmer than she could ever recall seeing before.

'Did I ever mention Celine?' To call her reply snotty would have been an understatement. 'Oh yes, one's girlfriend in another life!' She realised what he was doing as he was talking. He was trying to steer her way from Bandy. Sheila, who, he was convinced, was somehow related to the mule family, was not prepared to play ball.

'Bill I don't know what's the matter with you all of a sudden but I ain't budging until you tell me what's wrong.' Another sigh 'Celine was from Northern Ireland. She lost one of her brothers in the 'troubles'.

She didn't talk about it very much but when she did, she'd talk about the things that used to go on, like kneecapping and punishment beatings and how they'd learned to check everything to make sure it wasn't booby trapped and how one of the ways they did that was to learn how to recognise mercury switches.' Sheila looked at him blankly. 'A mercury switch is exactly what it says it is: a switch filled with mercury and because mercury is a liquid metal it's very sensitive to movement. Now I want you to come away from Bandy right now because what you've been touching is a mercury switch and they use mercury switches to make bombs!' She looked at him for any sign that this was some sort of joke but there was none.

'Oh don't be daft!' She said derisively, but she took a step away from Bandy and the box as she said it, 'If someone wanted to' At that moment a sharp humming noise became audible and as it grew louder Bandy's whole demeanour seemed to change. Her muscles tensed and it looked as if she were trying to thrust her head forward.

Her arms, pinioned as they were to her sides, were trying to move and her fingers, held uselessly inert by the mittens and the straps, seemed to be trying to flex. Then another noise joined the hum. A low keening noise that seemed to be coming from Bandy herself and then, all of a sudden and for no apparent reason, as both Bill and Sheila looked on powerless to intervene, her whole body began to shake violently.

© Wallace 2003. The writer asserts the right to be recognised as the author of this piece. This is a work of fiction and bears no resemblance to any persons living or dead, or to any events either real or imaginary. THE BOX CHAPTER THREE The story so far: Bill and Sheila have a fairly unusual houseguest, Linda is a little tied up and Ally is under the doctor More than a little breathless, Allison managed to disengage herself from the dark-haired woman and struggle to her feet; she put her palms on her knees and took a few deep breaths. 'Okay, okay, fairs, fair! Before you go messing around in my pants I'd quite like to know who you are!' The dark haired woman remained on the floor but had drawn herself into a sitting position hugging her knees.

She looked at Allison and smiled showing film star white teeth. 'Sorry, I thought you'd guessed - I'm Doctor Chaudhari!' The doctor put her head to one side and grinned girlishly. She looked down at her clothes and then back at Ally. 'What were you expecting – a sari, a tilak, you know, that little red dot on the forehead and a motherly middle aged woman who tells you to eat your vegetables and not indulge in too much sexual intercourse?'

It was Ally's turn to grin. Doctor Chaudhari rose gracefully from the floor and put out her hand, Ally grasped it warmly. 'My dad was Anglo-Indian and my mum was English. An English hippy. An English, middle class, hippy who went to India and got carried away with it all!

She's still the same, drives my Grandparents crazy even now! She converted to Hinduism and became more fervent about it than my dad ever was, which is why I ended up being called Virinder, but my friends call me Vicki.'

They were still holding hands and for some reason both seemed reluctant to let go. Said Ally showing equally white teeth. The doctor looked at her and her expression turned slowly into a mischievous grin. She studied the woman in front of her for a few moments. The woman in the black patent pixy boots and the black hose that she now knew to be stockings. She noticed her short black leather skirt and her leather jerkin worn over a white, puff sleeved blouse, open low enough to show some cleavage and traces of the black strapless bra that she wore underneath. She noticed that her tongue was pierced, that she was freckled, that she had a small blue stud just to the right of her upper lip and multiple ear piercings.

Her shiny jet-black hair was short and tousled and had a vivid white streak at the front. She also had a young face, high cheekbones and lustrous skin. The doctor moved closer to her and touched her lightly on the cheek with her free hand. 'I said that my FRIENDS call me Vicki,' she said, still smiling, 'I think YOU could be something other than a friend,' she gripped her hand tighter, ' I think YOU could call me something else.' Said Allison, standing her ground but not letting go of the doctor's hand either, 'And what might that be?' Unconsciously she licked her lips.

The doctor pulled Ally close against her and then let go of her hand. She ran her fingers through her hair with the free hand while the other traced its way up her stockinged leg. She kissed her on the lips. A little peck, followed by another and another and another, leading to a full blown, tongues entwined, steamy, passionate kiss that seemed to go on forever and left them both breathless. She hugged Ally and whispered huskily in her ear.

'How about MISS Vicki?' * Linda threw her head back against the soft pillows. Her friend was teasing at the tiny patch of dark, soft, pubic hair just above her moist, puffy labia with gentle and inquisitive fingers 'Oh for fuck's sake Sarah let me up. I'm hungry, I wanna Chinese, I wanna piss and I'm gonna smack your arse so hard' Sarah smiled.

Linda was still tied to the bed, still naked and still blindfolded. She got up and let the towel around her waist give up the fight against gravity and fall in a heap on the floor. Naked, her breasts jiggled bountifully as she crossed the room to one of the built in cupboards and withdrew something. She turned back to Linda.

'One of the junior doctors' 'What? The one who's trying to get inside your pants?'

'Roger, the house officer, actually, and lots of doctors try to sleep with the senior sisters, it's something they learn in medical school I think, but he won't get into MY pants Linda Hutton, I'll tell you that now!' Said Linda quietly, 'Cos there ain't no fucking room!' Linda had misjudged exactly how far away from her Sarah really was. The slap to her left upper thigh was hard and stinging. 'Didn't think I would hear that did you?' Linda remained silent.

She felt Sarah's weight on the bed again, it seemed comforting somehow. 'Anyway, Roger told me this joke. He said his girlfriend told him to tie her up and do what he liked. So he tied her up and went up the pub!' Linda scowled. 'And you laughed at that did you? Probably had his fingers up some poor buggers arsehole at the time as well.'

'Oh Linda you're so miserable sometimes and I've got a present for you as well, now hold still while I just take this blindfold off lift your head!' 'First you tell me to hold still, then you tell me to lift me head, MAKE UP YOUR BLOODY MIND WOMAN! This time it was the other thigh and this time Sarah cupped her hand slightly to make the sound reverberate round the room. 'When I get out of thisBITCH I'm going to' At that moment the blindfold came away and she found herself looking into Sarah's bright, rosy-cheeked, face. 'Hello Lindy-Lou,' she said amiably. 'Don't call me that!

Makes me sound like a right tosser!' Sarah leaned forward and planted a large, noisy and extravagant kiss on her tummy, 'And don't think I don't know why you suddenly went for a shower either.' Sarah looked at her questioningly. 'Don't come the innocent with me you fucking TART! How long were you sliding that fucking dildo up me?'

Sarah looked at the ceiling. And all the time you wouldn't let me CUM you bitch! But you, oh you, 'miss can't take what she fucking gives out' had to pop out to the shower and have a quick wank!' Sarah, who would be the first to admit that her life, until she met Linda, had been a little sheltered, was blushing quite profusely.

'Was it nice?' Sarah looked at her but didn't answer, 'Did you use your thumb on that sensitive little clitty of yours?

Or did you just finger fuck yourself stupid with the warm water running all over you? You were wet weren't you? I could hear your breathing; you were turned on something chronic. Your puss was dripping fucking wet and you just had to go and play with it. Sarah opened her mouth to speak but like a juggernaut out of control, Linda plunged on.

'You know what really pisses me off?' Linda's eyes drilled into her and Sarah was beginning to wish that she had never removed the blindfold, ' What really pisses me off is that you have to go out of the room to do it, you silly cow! How many times did I nearly come?

I can't even remember now. You can do that to me and let me do everything I do to you and yet you can't stay here and finish your bloody self off!

At least that way I might have got off me bloody self!' Sarah's face was red and it looked as if she were near to tears.

'I'm sorry Linda!' She said hesitantly, 'Yes, I was excited and yes, I did have to go outside, but I didn't want to spoil your surprise. I know you've been a bit tense lately and I wanted to do something for you I was going to let you come eventually. Almost as an afterthought she raised her right hand and Linda found herself staring at the biggest dildo she had ever seen in her life.

* 'Oh Bill you're such a PRICK sometimes!' Sheila was standing next to Bandy with a protective arm around her latexed shoulders. Bandy remained immobile but it was obvious that there was tension in every single muscle of her body. 'Look at her, poor luv, she's shaking!'

She looked at Bill contemptuously, 'Bomb my arse!!!!' He didn't have time to look embarrassed as he was rooting around in Bandy's box for something that might switch off the controls to the vibrators. The vibrators that had been switched on by Sheila's unwitting movement of the switch.

He looked up briefly and saw an odd look on her face; part triumph at proving him wrong, part concern for the nameless, faceless, rubber mannequin who seemed to be undergoing the tortures of the damned.. As the vibrators hummed and Bandy tensed and moaned as best she could, another sound became audible. Best described as the noise a marshmallow makes when slapped hard with a ruler, it seemed to come at regular thirty second intervals and caused the rubber doll to buck and to moan even more loudly. 'What the fuck is that?' This time he didn't look up. 'I think it's the tens unit I was telling you about.' Sheila was very gently running her hands up and down Bandy's tummy and thighs.

This seemed to be keeping Bandy as calm as she could be under the circumstances but was not helping Bill very much, so he kept his head buried deeply inside the box which had been Bandy's home. 'So let's get this straight. You reckon she's got a vibrator in her puss and one in her bum and that they're both on right now and on top of that she's getting shocked as well!' He nodded, ' BOMB!!!'

She spat the word at him. 'The only thing that's likely to explode round here is her poor little puss at this rate! Fancy getting your clit shocked!' 'I very much doubt that who ever did this would apply pads directly onto her clitoris. They're more likely fixed to the big muscle round her bottom – the Gluteus Maximus, which would make everything contract, send the muscles into a kind of spasm and make the whole thing that much more pleasurable.' Sheila looked up at the tensed, moaning, mannequin who was beginning to rock more and more violently against her restraints and then turned her gaze on the back of Bill's head.

'And how comes you're an expert in what is and isn't pleasurable to women all of a sudden, Biggus Shittus?' She said, her voice dripping with even more contempt than previously. Finally he raised his head from out of the box, gazed steadily at Bandy for a few seconds and then, with a small grin beginning to play around the corners of his mouth, said, 'Okay, Clittus Giganticus, look at her right now and tell me, honestly, what you see.

And if you can't see a woman who's a hairs breadth away from an orgasm or who might even be having a lot of little ones, then I won't bloody believe you!' 'Look at her!' 'I don't need to I'm holding on to her!' 'Yeah and what's that doing for you?' She shouted the last word in order to make it rise above the noise of the vibrators, the tens unit and Bandy's moans.

It stood to reason, therefore, that at the precise moment that she shouted, everything else would come to an abrupt halt. She stared at him in amazement. All now was silent, apart from Bandy's assisted breathing which seemed louder and faster than ever. Sheila put a protective hand on hers. 'All right sweetheart! Calm down now, calm down! You're safe now Bandy, just calm down now pet.

Oh bugger me! I wish I knew what her real name was. This is bloody daft!' Although the rubber doll stood a good six inches taller than her, by standing on tip toe Sheila was able to get an arm around her shoulders and do her best to comfort her, even though she stood, once more, immobile and emotionless in front of them.

'Can't we get her out of this contraption?' She asked, turning to Bill once more,' We might be able to stop the vibrators then.'

He looked over at the couch, to the abandoned circular saw that was lying there and shrugged his shoulders to no one in particular, and then he began to move forward. 'What you doing?' 'The only thing I CAN do.

I'll have to cut her out.' Sheila looked hard at him, but for once her mouth remained shut although she did bite her lower lip.

He had retrieved the saw and was just reaching Bandy's box when a there was a faint humming sound. Sheila drew a quick breath and clutched at the rubber doll expecting the vibrators to come on at any second, but Brandy remained quiet.

The humming noise, however, was persistent and it was only when Sheila looked down that she saw what was happening. The smoke from Bandy's original entrance still lay about six inches deep on the floor like a kind of domestic ground fog but she could clearly see that the front part of the box directly in front of Bandy was, very slowly, beginning to lower itself. A hissing sound became apparent now too.

More smoke, this time red, was issuing high into the air from a tiny nozzle just to Bandy's right while the front of the box continued to descend. Sheila was already beginning to cough. 'For Chrissake Bill open a window, she's okay, she can breath, but we're likely to choke to death!' But Bill stood fixed to the spot a few inches away from the source of the smoke. Anyone home?'

He was talking. As much to himself as to anyone else. Same thing every time. Classic misdirection! They don't want us to see what's actually happening, so they blind us with science - or in this case smoke.' Sheila had given up the struggle to stay on tiptoe and seeing that Bandy appeared to be in no immediate danger she had relaxed and settled instead for maintaining a tight grip on her left, mittened, hand. She looked at him questioningly.

'Who doesn't want us to see what? Did you smoke a lot of dope when you were younger? That's supposed to make you paranoid you know.

First it was bombs, now it's invisible people. His total disregard for her bordering on the suicidal, he walked past Sheila as if she wasn't there, through billowing red smoke to the couch, where he once more dropped the saw and then on towards the large picture window that looked out on to the small cobbled street and the canal below. Throwing it as wide open as he could, he turned back to face the room and Bandy and spreading his legs slightly and enunciating slowly and clearly, he seemed to fix his eyes on a point somewhere in the middle of the room. 'I've opened this window and then I'm going to turn on the extractor fans in the kitchen and then I'm going to open every window in the rest of the place and if someone doesn't notice red smoke issuing from a flat in a high rise twelve floors up and get the Police and the Fire Brigade here fairly quickly then I'd be extremely surprised!' Sheila realised that he was staring at the box. She followed his gaze and in the bright noon sunlight caught a glimpse of something shiny about halfway down the left side. Bandy's breathing had returned to an approximation of normal but it was still coarse and rasping through the breathing mask that clung to her face and prevented speech.

Bill stood silently watching the smoke issuing from the side of the box but he was also watching and studying the shiny object in its side. For a few seconds nothing happened but then, as suddenly as it had started, the smoke stopped. Sensing that Bandy was in no immediate danger, Sheila moved round to join her partner. 'What's going on?' He seemed to come out of his reverie and take notice of her for the first time in some minutes,' Oh! Well I think they saw reason!' Sheila could not hide her scepticism.

'Who saw reason? The little green men hovering above us in a flying saucer?' He smiled benignly.

The people on the other end of the spy cam that's watching us from about halfway down that box!' She looked again at the small, shiny circular object set into the side of the jet black box, then at the man standing beside her and then at the box again. She moved forward and crouched down. She peered into the tiny circular hole and saw that it was covered in glass and then she turned and looked back at Bill. 'And we can be seen through this?'

She asked, disbelief rampant in her voice. Probably a fish eye lens. Probably covers the whole of this room. There are probably more as well!' She raised a quizzical eyebrow.

He looked around the room, at the box and at Bandy who was currently standing darkly, silent and motionless once more, inside it, her hands loosely by her sides like an automaton whose current had been switched off. A being with no obvious life force. And yet the more he looked at her, the more he felt that he was being watched, even though he was convinced that she was currently sightless. 'Well,' he said slowly, 'You could try Bandy's helmet for starters.'

Sheila came slowly upright. He couldn't help noticing how feline she looked as she moved towards Bandy on bare feet, like a cat stalking a mouse, her head held slightly back as if she was trying to avoid imaginary rays from the helmet. The sun had gone behind a cloud for a second and when it emerged she saw it immediately, sparkling in the light, a small circular hole covered in glass at the very top of Bandy's fibreglass head. She studied it carefully for a few seconds and then stalked back towards him.

When she was no more than a few inches from him she said in a hoarse whisper. 'So someone is watching every thing we do, right?' He nodded and replied just as quietly. There's probably at least one more inside the box, keeping a watch on Bandy when she's in transit.'

Sheila nodded as much to herself as to anyone else. Taking it all in. 'And can they hear us as well?' He looked at her archly. 'Well the smoked stopped fairly quickly, didn't it?'

She didn't reply, she just moved even closer to him and then she turned her head so she was looking into Bandy's vacant eye sockets. He could sense that she was up to something but Sheila remained, as usual, completely unpredictable. When she spoke it was as loudly and as clearly as he had spoken earlier.

'So you like to watch do you? Whoever you are. Been having a good laugh at us behaving like Pratts have you?' She stole a quick glance at Bill and then her voice deepened and darkened.

Well if you like watching, watch this!' Without warning she leaned forward, took his face in both hands and kissed him full on the mouth. At the same time she insinuated her warm, soft, body against his. He could smell her shampoo, it really did smell of herbs and fruit, and he could smell her, that warm inviting smell that she seemed to exude even when she was at her most pugnacious. But pugnacious was not the word to describe her right now.

Her lips were soft, moist and inviting and he couldn't help but think of other parts of her that were just as soft, just as moist and just as inviting. She was rubbing against him now. Sliding a bare foot up and down his left calf. Easing against him until they were crutch to crotch and then beginning to gyrate and writhe. Not humping but an insistent rubbing.

An insistent rubbing that she knew could only create one ultimate reaction in him. And it was happening already. She had her arms around him now.

Thrown around him in almost total abandonment. He could have pushed her away. He had in the past when she had gone too far but somehow it didn't seem right this time. It wasn't as if they had a LIVE audience and it was also unusual for Sheila, although an undeniably passionate person, to have reached this stage quite so quickly, although he thought that he could understand the reason for her sudden fervour. She was tugging gently at his hair with one hand, while the other was running its way down his tummy and then stroking the area just above his belt.

He could guess at its ultimate destination. Aware that the camera could not see all of their movements he slipped his own hand between them and very gently soothed it against the crotch of her faded blue jeans. It had the desired effect. Sheila broke the kiss threw her head back until she was looking directly into his eyes and said in a voice that was strangely deep and husky, 'Fuck me! Bend me over the table and fuck me right now!' He put his hand firmly behind her head and pulled her to him again, whilst the other began to tug at the belt of her jeans and at that precise moment, Bandy began to move hesitantly forward.

* The doctor patient/ relationship was taking on a new meaning in Doctor Chaudhari's surgery and it was Allison, once again, who broke away, breathlessly. 'Look this is all very well' She ran a hand through her hair to try to smooth it out, 'But shouldn't we do this examination while my blood pressure's still fairly low?' 'And your genitals are only slightly moist?' Queried the doctor smoothing down her dress. If she had hoped to see Ally blush, she was disappointed. They had been kissing, amongst other things, for nearly half an hour and she knew that Allison was quite right. She stole a glance at the half Goth, half punk, Australian standing in front of her and became suddenly business like, but there was a twinkle in her eye.

'Okay Miss Pearson, let's do what you came for – take your clothes off!' Ally looked at her just a little longer and a little harder than she might otherwise. 'Got a cubicle,' she said slowly, 'You know, somewhere I can change?' The doctor shook her head. 'Don't need one! When I say take your clothes off Allison, I mean take your clothes off, right here and right now!'

There was no mistaking the lascivious expression on her face, but Ally was not one to turn down a challenge. The leather jerkin was already being placed carefully on the back of the nearest chair. She was staring straight at the doctor. 'And would you like me to do a dance as well?' She asked quietly, unbuttoning the cuffs of her blouse as she did so 'I don't think we've got time right now, do you?' Said Doctor Chaudhari, folding her arms in front of her, 'but maybe another time.

I can just see you as a slave girl in a harem!' 'Can you really?' Asked Ally, not taking her eyes away from the doctor's but pulling gently at her blouse to loosen it from her skirt at the same time 'And would that involve chains by any chance?'

It was the doctor's turn to lick her lips. Ally was unbuttoning the white blouse now. When she finished she pulled it fully open to reveal shapely breasts nestling in a black strapless bra.

Vicki Chaudhari's mouth seemed to fall open just a little, but her voice never wavered. Little slave girls HAVE to wear chains!' Allison's hands were behind her back, she unfastened the bra first time, cupped her breasts and fondled them gently for a few moments and then took hands and bra away to reveal them naked, the nipples proud and erect. She looked at Vicki for a second and then moved a little closer. Parting her legs slightly, she stood in front of the doctor, unbuttoned and unzipped her short, black leather skirt and let it fall to the floor, to land in a small heap at her ankles.

She put her hands on her hips. Vicki looked her up and down She was wearing long black stockings, stockings that complimented her long legs and plump, swelling calves and thighs perfectly.

Her suspender belt was short and skimpy and semi transparent as where her panties which were little more than a thong. That she did not trim or shave her pubic hair was obvious from where the doctor was standing. Black shiny ankle boots, black stockings, black suspender belt and a black thong were the only items of clothing that Allison Pearson still wore and it did not seem to concern her in the slightest. 'And what do you do with your little slave girls when you've got them chained up?' She asked coquettishly, putting her head to one side. The doctor smiled, 'That's for me to know and you to find out.

Now come here and take my dress off!' * Linda stared at the long flesh coloured monstrosity that Sarah held in front of her, 'Fuck me it must be a foot!'

Sarah shook her head seriously 'No, no, it's a huge plastic cock!' And then unable to contain herself any longer she laughed at her own joke, but was unable to prevent herself from blushing at the same time, 'It's all right Lindy Lou, it really is, I'll be very gentle!' She studied the more than life like representation of a penis that she held in her hands, 'It'll all go in, I promise!'

Linda opened her mouth to protest but, her reflexes heightened by the thought of what she was going to do to her friend, Sarah put down the dildo, picked up the gag and thrust it forcefully between Linda's lips. She tried to spit and shake it out, but as both her arms and her legs were tied tightly to the bed, she was totally unable to prevent Sarah from buckling it tightly back in place. Now that Sarah was once more in control she ran her hands across Linda's tummy and could feel Goosebumps rising as she did so. 'I was going to blindfold you,' She said reflectively, looking into Linda's eyes as she said it. Eyes that reflected many emotions, from anger to defiance, to anticipation and even a little fear but her gaze was steady, there was also a lot more than the possibility of retribution there. Something Sarah had learned to relish. 'But I think you'd prefer to watch.'

Linda lay motionless. More than six feet of voluptuous, naked woman, tied up and at the mercy of her partner. Something that was unusual for both of them, but something that they were both coming to enjoy. Although the expression on Linda's face at that moment suggested anything but enjoyment. Sarah leaned in close to Linda.

So close that she could feel her warm breath on her cheek. She picked up the dildo. 'I WAS going to use lubricant on this,' she said, holding it up that they could both study the foot long monster, 'But I thought that between us we could lubricate it ourselves!' With that she began to run her tongue delicately up and down the huge penis ':I mean, I don't think this will be anyway near enough but I think that you might be able to help me out a little bit!' She closed her lips around the head of the monstrous dildo, studying Linda's expression as she did so and then she trailed her free hand up and down Linda's tummy. She took the penis out of her mouth and dribbled saliva on to it. 'See, I think you're going to be a little bit wet yourself,' she said gleefully.

Linda stared at her and slowly shook her head, her eyes wide with horror. Sarah smiled, still holding the dildo in one hand, she ran her other down to Linda's patch of pubic hair, caressed it fleetingly and then eased a gentle finger between her wide open legs. Her face immediately became a picture of triumph. 'See Linda,' She said, her face wreathed in smiles, ' Your eyes say nobut your CUNT says yes!' Unused to using such language, Sarah blushed bright red and then eased another finger inside Linda's wetness causing Linda to close her eyes and moan loudly into her gag.

* The doctor looked at her 'patient'. Don't just stand there, little slave girl, do as you're told!' Allison moved forward a little stiffly, a smile playing on her lips. She stood directly in front of Doctor Chaudhari. 'And exactly whose little slave girl am I supposed to be?' She said, looking deep into Vicki's eyes. Vicki did not flinch.

She said almost breathlessly, 'You're my little slave girl now and in future you call me MISS Vicki as a mark of respect!' It was Allison's turn not to flinch. 'Oh, so it's respect you want is it?' Said Ally dropping to her knees, 'Well if it's respect you want.' She crouched as low as she could and began to lightly lick at Vicki's left boot.

Taken by surprise Vicki could do little but watch her intently. Watch as she fluttered her tongue delicately against the toe and then began to work her way gently up towards the knee, her head bobbing, her tongue still fluttering, whilst she wondered exactly what it would feel like when that tongue met the bare flesh above her boot. She shivered involuntarily. 'That's enough, little slave girl,' She said gently, 'That's more than enough!' She could feel a tensioning somewhere near her lower back and she had the definite feeling that she was becoming more than a little moist. She bent down, took hold of the supplicant's chin and pulled gently upward, communicating wordlessly with her, informing her that she wanted her in a standing position. Ally raised herself slowly until her eyes were level with those of her new Mistress.

She said quietly, 'Was that respectful enough for ya?' Vicki studied her long and hard and then her face broke into a broad grin. Yes it was, my little slave girl. It was very respectfulbut I think we'll have a little less mouth from you in future and you still haven't done what you were told. I think you will definitely be punished for that at some point.'

Ally licked her lips. She moved behind the doctor and began to unbutton her dress. When finished she lowered it so that her new mistress could step delicately out of it.

When Vicki turned to face her new slave, the expression on Ally's face was all she needed to see, because Doctor Chaudhari now stood in front of her completely naked apart from a pair of black and shiny, high heeled, knee high boots. * She heard him curse quite roundly, but softly, under his breath and she felt very much the same way as they broke to watch what Bandy was doing. Slowly and very, very carefully she was moving forward, head erect, hesitantly but surely, out of the box. Without thinking, he going to one side, she to the other, they both rushed to her aid. There was a sibilant hissing noise coming from somewhere inside the box but thankfully there was no smoke this time. They each took a hand and helped the seemingly blind, deaf and speechless rubber doll to leave the confines of her box for the first time. She moved a few paces forward and then stopped abruptly not to move again, almost as if she were under instruction of some kind.

Now they could take stock. Now they could get a better look inside the box and see how she had been confined. But the intelligence that was at work behind Bandy was ahead of them once more. As Bill bent down to look inside, the front flap that had lowered itself to let Bandy out now began to raise itself upward and the lids that had previously been sticking straight out of the sides and into the air were once again being lowered into their original position.

Bandy's home was certainly not open to inspection for the time being. Sheila was now able to study Bandy even more closely than before. Her skin glistened still and her hands slipped against the black latex covering. 'You know what I think this is?' She said to the still kneeling Bill who was still trying, unsuccessfully to gain access to the box. He shook his head. 'I think it's some sort of lubricant.

Something that doesn't rot latex like other lubricants do and something that would stop her sticking to the air bags when she's inside the box.' He eased himself into a standing position.

'What about her feet?' Now it was Sheila's turn to sink to her knees. Look at this!' As they had noticed before, Bandy's legs seemed to be held tightly together and there were indeed small tight bands of rubber at her thighs and above and below her knees and at her ankles that prevented her moving her legs at all, the only way she could move was by shuffling her feet from side to side like an enormous penguin. Sheila looked up at him questioningly, 'And then they sprayed the liquid latex on top?' It was now apparent also that Bandy was not as tall as she had appeared to be inside in the box.

Although her latex 'leggings' finished just below her ankles, her feet were almost bare and her toes were painted, predictably, in ebony black nail polish. But she wore shoes of a kind. Shoes with a very high heel, an enormous arch to the instep and a chamfered platform sole finished in a shiny black patent material. Sheila, who took an enormous interest in shoes, especially restrictive ones, whistled gently through her teeth.

Ballet sandals! Like ballet toe boots but probably a bit lighter.' She reached out and ran her hand across Bandy's bare feet. 'They must be hell to wear!' He watched her but said nothing. He had always admired Sheila's feet and she had always encouraged his mild foot fetish by wearing sandals and thongs and every possible type of shoe that attracted him.

He noticed her studying him and saw that there was a cheeky expression on her face. 'Tell you what, might let you buy me a pair after this - if you can afford them of course!' He was going to say that that had never bothered her in the past but then he noticed Bandy's tail. It had changed. It was a real tail now and not just an umbilical.

It fell to a length of roughly 18 inches behind her and there now appeared to be a small box attached to it. Sheila, seeing it at the same time as him and with her given propensity to touch things had grasped it in her hands before he could stop her, at the precise moment that the thick fibreglass mask covering her features chose to fall off and crash to the floor landing a few inches away from her head. © Wallace 2003. The writer wishes to be acknowledged as the author of this piece. This story is a work of fiction and bears no resemblance to any events or places, real or imaginary, or to any people living or dead. THE BOX CHAPTER FIVE. In which Ally learns the ropes, Sarah shows remorse and Sheila does some unravelling.

The Hilton London Metropole stood huge, modern and almost anachronistic opposite Marks and Spencer in the middle of the Edgware Road. All shiny glass, immaculate steel and highly polished marble, it wasn't, somehow, the place that Ally had been expecting to meet in when Phil Bishop had phoned her on Monday evening. How's it going?' I'm just great!' There's an edge to that voice I haven't heard before.' ' Oh, anticipation I guess.' 'You're worried?'

'Not worried.' 'Ally believe me, there's nothing to be frightened of. If I thought that you were going to come to any harm I'd call it off here and now.

I've been doing these gigs for nearly thirty years' But it wasn't fear that was uppermost in Ally's mind, or even apprehension, she trusted Phil Bishop, she trusted the tall woman who had set this whole thing in motion and she trusted Vicki Chaudhari with whom she had been in constant touch since their first meeting nearly two weeks ago, well, trust was a relative word there. They talked on the phone every day but Vicki was refusing to actually meet with her until the Thursday when she was due to meet Phil Bishop and Lady Heather. Everywhere you went - games.

Call them what you will. Vicki was toying with her, at least that's how it seemed, but after her upbringing, two highly thought of academics for parents who hated the sight of each other, doted on her, turned to drink to anaesthetise themselves from their highly acrimonious relationship and frequently made her a pawn in their own particular head games. After all that, Ally could play games at International level. She stood now, outside the little chemist on the opposite side of the road from the hotel, fingering the strap of her shoulder bag and biting her lip. When she realised what she was doing she gave herself a kind of mental ticking off and strode across the road to her fate.

* The inside of the Hotel was more marble and glass, offset by discrete lighting. There was bamboo in pots surrounded by designer pebbles. There were enthusiastic new arrivals. There were tired looking people waiting for taxis. One thing she didn't see or hear, to her exhilaration, were the fruit machines that seemed to line the foyers of virtually every hotel in every country in the world – except Britain.

But it seemed to her, as an outsider, that she was living in a country that was twenty years behind the rest of the civilised world anyway, so the Poms had that to look forward to. She approached the immaculate front desk and caught the eye of young woman about her own age. A young woman, who, it turned out, was also from a land down under.

The attractive young woman waved a hand in front of her chest. 'Just outside but you were close enough. Don't hear much strine here, 'smainly Arabic!' She paused, women DO notice other women and Ally was already aware that the breasts of the receptionist were more than ample, not helped by the fact that her blouse had a couple of strategic buttons undone and her bra was, to say the least, uplifting.

There was an awful lot of cleavage to be seen, Ally wondered whether it was real cleavage or the silicone enhanced variety, 'You must be Ally!' Pleasantly mystified, Ally held out a hand and the receptionist grasped it warmly. Perhaps a little too warmly, but they were both a long way from home. The people in ten fifteen are expecting you and I've got to give them a call' Before Tanya could say any more, Ally felt a presence behind her. She turned and found herself looking at the tallest policewoman she had ever seen.

A policewoman who looked oddly familiar. Ally stared at her. Stared at her long and hard, but there were too many differences, she realised, hair colour, eye colour, nose a slightly different shape, but all the same 'Miss Pearson?' Ally was jolted back to reality.

'Miss Allison Pearson?' 'Yes, yes I am.' She couldn't help look the woman up and down. Shiny Doctor Martin shoes, navy pants, white short-sleeved shirt open at the neck, body armour consisting of a navy Kevlar body warmer, extendible truncheon - still a truncheon and not a nightstick - and handcuffs. Bright and shiny handcuffs, with matt black inserts, in that very obvious little pouch attached to her belt. She wore her blonde hair short and it was piled.