0 comments/ 168608 views/ 13 favorites Torments of the Widow McWorter Ch. 07-10 By: Torments of the Widow McWorter Ch. 07-10 There is a name who for a woman who services a man for money. WHORE! That was what Miss Maebelle made of me on those nights at the roadhouse bar. Altho our monthly trips to that awful saloon were not the only occasions when my mistress sold my body, those Friday nights were the most degrading of all because they were so blatantly crude and commercial. Monique and I would put on the show, the bar's owner would rake in the money from his trash customers, and our mistresses would take home a share of his profits. I was simply a whore serving my pimp! No other description of me is possible! The four of us always arrived just after midnight. Our mistresses would lead Monique and I out of the car naked on our leashes, and through the back entrance into the one room saloon. For those of you unfamiliar with the sleazy side of the South Carolina back country, let me describe for you what a honkytonk on the outskirts of a jerkwater southern mill town is like. The customers are to a man redneck white trash, semi-illiterate, unshaven, badly in need of a bath, and for the most part, either truck drivers or mill workers. The air is thick with cigar and cigarette smoke, but perhaps that was just as well. The tobacco masks the stale stink of spilled beer, sweat, and urine that otherwise permeates the filthy room. Over in the corner a jukebox blares out hillbilly rock and roll at about a thousand decibels. A couple of bleached blonde waitresses, overweight and slutty in their short shorts and halter tops wade thru the drunken crowd serving pitchers of beer. The tattoos on the arms and upper breasts of the waitresses suggest that they are every bit as tough as their customers…, and they are! Otherwise they couldn't survive the wandering hands that grab for free feels of their female anatomy as they push their way through the crowd. Our horny audience were always expecting us, and always impatient for our arrival. The rowdy crowd never failed to greet Monique and I with a bawdy cheer and crude comments about our bare tits and shaved pussies. Our performance never varied, and although Monique and I put on pretty much the same show as we did at every stag party, the rough surroundings and crude audience made what we did seem exceptionally degrading. We are lifted up onto the bar. We do a little dance, flopping our tits at the audience, then I stretch out on my back along the length of the bar. Monique straddles my head with her thighs, and drops her body down on me full length. Her sex covers my mouth, and her mouth is over mine, as we eat each other's cunt in a classic 69. The cheers that ring in our ears only make our humiliation worse as we steel ourselves for the more degrading parts of our performance yet to come. After 10 minutes or so of licking each other's pussy, Monique rolls off me, but immediately crawls back between my legs in the opposite direction. As she changes position she stuffs her pussy with one end of a double ended dildo. On top of me with her breasts pressed against mine, she pauses with her ass raised over my groin. The unused end of that dildo hangs there, threatening my slit, until I reach between us and slide it inside. Once we are joined with that make believe cock, we two whores rock and hunch our hips at each other, furiously fucking ourselves on the opposite ends of that two woman plastic dick. Before we arrive, the bar patrons have bought their tickets in a lottery in which Monique and I are the prizes. Some have purchased two, or five, or ten, such chances. When Monique and I have finished our little show, we each draw a number from a hat, and the lucky winners climb up on the bar to join us. The men strip off their pants and underwear, and lay down on their backs. Monique and I suck their unwashed cocks until they are hard and ready, although if that was really necessary at all, it seldom took very long. Once their erections are standing tall and rigid, Monique and I straddle their hips and slowly ease our cunts down over those stiff male poles waiting under us. I always encourage my man to reach up and play with my tits while I pump myself up and down his fleshy member. Usually he shoots his wad too quickly and I am left hanging, on fire but unsatisfied. God but that is awful! Once in awhile, however, I am lucky enough to draw a real stud who will give me an orgasm or two of my own before my lucky winner fills my pussy with his cum. Looking back, my time as Miss Maebelle's slave girl is a blur of penises and pussies, although I distinctly remember Monique's pussy as the sweetest of all. Whatever else I may have learned in the years of my college education, I certainly left South Carolina as a fully trained sex slave and whore, and as things turned out, Miss Maebelle was only the beginning. Shortly I would begin a far harsher postgraduate course in female submission with my husband to be, the Right Reverend Alexander McWorter, as my professor. ----------------------- 8. The Reverend McWorter. After I graduated from college I returned home to live with my parents in Mobile. My father insisted that I again join the sessions in which he whipped my mother, and once more I found myself naked and suffering under that white Navy belt. I had passed beyond that little game, however, and I wanted no more of it. Still, it wasn't the whipping that drove me away. I was frustrated by being so regularly aroused, and I needed more than that white belt. I needed a release. I needed to be fucked. My father wouldn't do me, and my brother was away in college. When I could stand it no longer, I began to make other arrangements for a place to live. That wasn't easy. I had no job and no money. I found that there were very few job opportunities available to a young lady with no experience except for a degree in English literature from a backwater bible college. Even with my college degree I didn't qualify for a job as a teacher without the education courses required for a "Teaching Certificate of Competency." It probably would come as a surprise to most Alabama citizens that even the great beatified Paul 'Bear' Bryant would not have been deemed competent to coach a high-school football team anywhere in the state because he never took a college course in how to teach the game of football. My father came to my rescue. He found me a job as a "gofer", and sometime secretary, in the church where he was a deacon. Strictly speaking, it wasn't even really what you would call a church, just a small fundamentalist evangelical congregation affiliated with the "McWorter Ministries". The job didn't pay much, but it was pleasant and easy work, and it was enough that I could afford my independence. I kept the church records, counted the money from the offerings, made the bank deposits, and kept the books. I typed whatever correspondence was necessary along with the preacher's notes for his sermon, and generally did whatever was necessary, up to and including sweeping out the store front where services were held on Sundays and Wednesday nights. All that was well and good, but I needed a man. No more than that, I needed a man between my legs with his cock buried inside me all the way to my womb. Oh how hungry I was to be fucked! Getting herself fucked, however, isn't all that easy for a young lady employed by a fundamentalist Christian church. True, the congregation had its share of lecherous old farts who would have been more than willing to stick their cocks in me, but I wanted a virile hard young prick, not one that was old, tired, soft, and used up. There weren't many young men around, and the few that were treated me as if I was the Virgin Mary. I routinely went without a bra, and showed 'em my tits at every opportunity. I shook my ass at them, and lifted my skirts to be sure they could admire my legs. No luck! Nothing worked! They had all committed themselves to 'the one true path' of celibacy before marriage, and I couldn't corner one of them alone under an Alabama moon long enough to seduce him. Nor could I afford to do much more than I was already doing to advertise I was "available". After all, I was no longer far away on a small college campus in the piney woods of South Carolina where I could openly flaunt myself as sex bait as I did for Miss Maebelle. No sir! At home in Mobile where people knew me and knew my family. Here I couldn't go up to a likely man and announce, "I am Mary Beth the slut," and then ask, "May I suck you off before you fuck me?" I didn't even dare play the pick-up game in the single's bars the in the usual way an unattached young lady with an itch in her crotch hunts for a willing stud. The men of our church may have been big on 'family values' for public consumption, but I knew that many of those hypocrites were in fact dirty old men who regularly hunted the bars for willing pussy. I would be recognized for sure, and I couldn't afford that. With no hope of finding an available cock either in a church pew or on a barstool, all that was left to me was my boss, the preacher. Carlin was a serious young man out of the seminary only five years, and recently married. His bride Melissa was a pretty girl who I decided was as much a goodie two shoes as her husband (although later on I would discover how wrong I was about her.) I didn't have much hope for Carlin, but he was a good looking guy and I was desperate, so I gave him my best shot. For weeks I dispensed with my panties as well as a bra, and never missed a chance to rub my body against his. I wore my shortest skirts to work. When seated, I encouraged the hem to creep up my thighs to give him a good view of my legs. Better than that, I would spread my knees so he could look between them. I'm sure that more than once he must have seen my shaved pussy. Every time I stooped low over his desk to straighten it, or to pick up papers, I made sure the top two buttons of my blouse were undone. With my tits swaying right in his face, there must the been times when Carlin had an eye full all the way to the nipples. Nothing I did worked any better on Carlin than it had on the others I had tried to interest in my body. If he understood what I wanted of him, he never let on, yet I know he was aroused by those indiscrete glimpses of my private parts. He would blush and a bulge would grow in the crotch of his pants, but he refused to act upon the urges I stirred in him. He would simply turn his head, or shift his eyes away. At the beginning, I felt a certain Carlin would either fuck me, or fire me. I mean, if he wasn't going to fuck me, how could a preacher possibly keep someone on the church payroll he knew to be a shameless slut? I was wrong! The gutless little twerp never said a word. No recrimination, no explanation, no acknowledgement, no nothing! Damn him anyway! I decided I hated him. The worst thing a man can do to a woman is to ignore her. Later I discovered I should not have been so hard on him. It turned out that he was one of Reverend Alexander McWorter's puppets, a male slave really, who had undoubtedly been told to leave me alone. At the time, however, I had no way to know about the devious ways of the Reverend' web, and Carlin's rejection of my campaign to seduce him was a damned hard blow to my morale. Months passed when the only sex I was getting was from my vibrating dildo. The man at the hardware store must have wondered why I needed so many batteries. I was becoming so attached to that artificial dick that I was almost ready to name it as a beneficiary in my will. I was desperate. No, I was more than just desperate, I was climbing the walls so starved was my pussy for a real honest-to-god blood-filled semen-spitting penis. Fortunately, Mobile is not all that big. It was inevitable that eventually my path would cross that of the Right Reverend Alexander McWorter, Alabama's most prominent minister whose "Old Alabama Gospel hour" every Sunday morning on a national television network had made him a celebrity to fundamentalist Protestant evangelicals throughout the state and beyond. I was having lunch at the Jefferson Davis Hotel dining room when the famous preacher sent a waiter to invite me to join him at his table. The Reverend McWorter was a big handsome man, strong and masculine, maybe 6 feet 5 or 6 inches tall with salt and pepper graying hair and mustache. His voice was deep and resonant. Charm literally oozed from his pores. I was mesmerized from the first words he spoke to me. He introduced himself quite gallantly even though I'm sure he knew introduction was hardly necessary. He assured me that he had long known who I was, and was familiar with my 'good work for my pastor'. Of course, at the time I had no idea that 'good work for my pastor' probably referred to my failed attempt to seduce the poor sap. To have lunch with the great celebrity preacher was a young girl's dream. Here was an unmarried stud, sexy, rich and famous, treating me as if he was already a suitor "come-a-courtin'" as we say down south. In my imagination I can already see myself in this man's bed. Or more! Perhaps a regular thing mistress! Even his wife! "Mrs. Alexander McWorter"! Jesus but that really had a nice ring to it. He wouldn't be an easy catch though. I knew for a fact that a great many women in Mobile had similar ambitions. There were persistent rumors that the Reverend was not unfamiliar with the pleasures of soft feminine charms, and that he had even been known to taste of them. Of course I didn't know at the time those rumors were only the tip of an iceberg in a litany of flagrant sexual misconduct by the renowned TV minister. I warned myself that I should not get my hopes up from one little lunch. It would simply be foolish of me to take too seriously what was probably only the polite attention expected of a Southern gentleman entertaining a young lady at a chance luncheon. To my delight, however, two days later Alexander called and invited me to dinner. I accepted the invitation quickly, entirely too quickly for the socially popular young lady I wanted him to think I was. It was only later I remembered that I should have kept him waiting while I pretended to check my busy social schedule to see if I was free for that evening. We went to the Jeff Davis for dinner and had a very nice meal. The Reverend was a smooth conversationalist, but polite, proper and quite conventional as might be expected of a minister. I thoroughly enjoyed myself despite a persistent heat in my eager pussy. I invited him into my apartment for a nightcap hoping that he might take the hint, but he refused and instead merely shook my hand goodnight. That handshake was a devastating disappointment! Our second date was similar except that we went to the movies, and he did kiss me good night. He held me close and he was a very good kisser. Still, his lips only hinted at real passion, and once again I was left with a wet but unsatisfied pussy. He said goodnight and disappeared into the dark. I went inside and crawled into bed with my goddamned vibrator. All of our early dates went something like that, a nice evening, a tantalizing kiss goodnight, but nothing very passionate, nothing anywhere near what I needed. I knew better than to push too hard, however. If Alexander was careful to observe all the conventional proprieties in our rather sterile courtship, I was no less so. I tried my best to be coy but distant, sexy but at the same time virginal. I did not understand at the time that this oh-so-proper mating dance was a charade. I had no way to know about his considerable experience with submissive little sluts such as myself. Thus, I completely underestimated what a devious and calculating man my suitor was. Alexander had known from the first that my facade of propriety was a sham. He was only toying with me, playing me like a hooked fish flopping helplessly on the end of his line, until he decided the time was right to reel me in and take me into his bed. It was on our sixth date that we had a private meal at the estate where he lived alone on 20 acres of pinewoods north of the city. I wore a sexy new dress that left my shoulders bare except for the two thin straps that supported the low cut bodice. The inky black silk was the perfect complement to the snow white cleavage of my braless bosom, and beneath that loose top, my breasts swayed sensually with my every move. The meal was exquisitely prepared and served by Carter, Alexander's black manservant of many years. I drank too much brandy, and by the time dinner was ready I was already a bit giddy. We had finished our meal, and were sitting side by side on a big leather couch when I surreptitiously allowed one strap of my dress to slip off my shoulder. As my bodice slipped downward, my right breast was exposed almost to the aureole. Alexander made little attempt to hide that he was staring down the front of my dress, and that he liked what he saw there. That was encouraging, I thought. Alexander dropped his arm a round my shoulders as Carter refilled our glasses for the third time since dinner. My head was already spinning, but altho things were going well, I needed that brandy to brace my courage, and I gratefully gulped it down. Sure enough. warmed by the liquor I was able to stay on course and plunge ahead, totally committed to seducing this man. I wasn't sure of what would happen next, but I meant to get laid this night come hell or high water. There was no going back. The good news was that for the first time the Reverend seemed interested in my feminine assets. God knows he should have been! Short of showing him a full bare tit, there wasn't much more I could do to offer myself to him. Surely this sexy man could not ignore so obvious an invitation. Surely he would not let this romantic moment pass, and allow my exposed and heaving breasts to go untouched and unused. My preacher man did not disappoint me. The arm around my shoulder tightened and then pulled me to his chest. As he gathered me into his arms, he kissed me first on my forehead, and then long and deeply on my mouth. This was no chaste and friendly goodnight kiss like all those that had preceded it. This time his lips brutally crushed mine. This time his tongue was in my mouth twisting against my own, exploring, probing, demanding a passion to match his own. This time his hand slid inside the top of my dress to firmly grip a bare breast, and his thumb was toying with a nipple, rubbing it erect. His hand was still there as he stared deeply, almost hypnotically, into my eyes and dropped the bomb that changed my life forever. "Mary Beth you aren't fooling anyone. You are a slut, a slattern bitch, a tramp and a potential whore. Your pussy is wet and hungry. You want me to fuck you. All that is true, is it not Mary Beth?" I was shocked, petrified, so much so that I couldn't find the breath to reply. He repeated his demand, "Admit it! Admit to me that you are a slut and a horny bitch! Admit you want me to fuck you. Say it! I want to hear the words from your own mouth." His command was so powerful, so dominant, so overwhelming, that there was only one answer I could give. "Yes, I am a slut bitch. Yes, I want you to fuck me." "Yes? Is that all you have to say? Trailer park trash like you, have you no manners, no respect? Start over slut and do it right! Tell me, yes who? Yes what?" He was angry with me, and the snarl in his voice was demanding an apology. At first I could not imagine my misdemeanor, but then it dawned on me what a presumptuous little snippet I had been. I quickly amended my answer, sincerely repentant of my failure to show this powerful male the respect he was due. "Yes SIR! Forgive me SIR. I am a slut bitch, SIR! Yes SIR, I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me SIR." Torments of the Widow McWorter Ch. 07-10 "That's better my little bitch," he said a little less angrily. "You are to always call me SIR because from this moment on I own you…, you are my chattel…, my plaything…, my sex toy to be used in whatever way I see fit. You must always show me the respect that is due the absolute master of your body and your soul. You on the other hand, are henceforth a lowly slave no longer entitled to pride, dignity or courtesy. Hereafter you have neither a will nor a life of your own. To please me, sexually and otherwise, shall be your only concern." "I have not decided yet, but you are a pretty thing, and I may even take you as my wife. In my business I need a pretty wife to stand adoringly beside me on camera as I preach my message. It makes for good TV. If I do marry you, however, our relationship will not change. What you are to me this minute, female flesh to feed my passion, you will continue to be all your life even though you are my wife. Whatever titles I may give you, no matter how you are presented publicly, all that is meaningless. You can never be anything but dirt under my feet that I keep only to enjoy the use of your quite lovely body. Do you understand that?" "Oh yes," I answered without hesitation. "I understand! I belong to you. I am only pitiful slave, and you are my owner and master! My body and its every hole is yours to use and abuse. I do adore you sir, and I am willing to pleasure you in whatever way you desire, oh so willing." "Stand up then! Stand up and strip for me slut," he ordered, and I did as I was told. It was easy enough to do. I had only to pull the remaining strap of my dress off my other shoulder, and my entire top dropped abruptly to my waist leaving my breasts bare and heaving. I am proud of my breasts, and I stood frozen before him for a moment that he might admire them. Then, with a quick downward shove with my hands, all of that now useless black silk slid over my hips and landed in a heap around my ankles. My new master inspected me closely for a long time. Looking at my breasts he nodded and smiled, but when his eyes reached my belly, the smile faded to a frown. I had disappointed him in some way. Why? How? Then I understood. Of course, my panties! The covered my pussy! A worthy female slave should never hide her sex from her master. I had not meant to offend. I would not have worn that hateful nylon had I known that tonight this man would strip me of my dress and demand my surrender. I had worn panties only because I was afraid I would need something to sop up my wet and keep it from running down my thighs. The big dark damp spot that marked the crotch proved I had been right about that much. Suddenly, unexpectedly, however, I was not the seductress but the seduced, a female in submission, standing humbly for inspection by the master who owned her, and such proprieties as a dripping pussy were no longer her concern. Indeed, it is the duty of a slave woman to be always aroused and constantly disgraced by her wet cunt. A vagina always ready to take her master's cock is all the captive female is good for, and she has no right to modesty or dignity. I stammered an apology to my new owner for not being ready tonight to properly display myself naked before him, and promised that in the future I would never wear anything that interfered with his access to my body. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Carter, my master's Negro manservant, watching my capitulation. Even though I was not yet completely naked, it was humiliating to know he was there while I humbled myself before my mew master. Why that should have been I cannot say for certain. After all, while I was away in college Alcee, Miss Maebelle's black lover, had fucked me often. On the other hand, I was no longer a quasi-anonymous student at a distant college. I was back in my hometown where I had been raised to southern standards of behavior. In Mobile Alabama the separation between white women and black men is rigidly observed by both races. In Mobile a white woman does not parade her body before a Negro man unless she is a whore. The Reverend and Carter both knew that as well as I. I wondered, "Is that what this master would make of me…, a whore to be displayed in the nude before forbidden eyes?" Then I was struck with another thought, one that I found even more distressing. Was I the first white woman Carter had seen strip off her dress and stand and subservient before his employer? Had other 'belles' of the old south been so overcome with their lust for this preacher's cock that they shamelessly offered their naked bodies to him even as his Negro servant looked on as a witness? Yes, without a doubt they had. It was presumptuous for me to think I was the first woman to become the love slave of this overpowering man. If it had been otherwise, the expression on Carter's ebony face surely would have not been so bland and controlled, almost as if he was bored by the pitiful spectacle I was making of myself. Whatever! Mentally I slapped my face to remind myself of what I now was. My pride and modesty were forfeit, and my shame of no consequence. In a matter of minutes I had become a chattel, merely a piece of pretty furniture, something my master owned and could use as he pleased. If he wished to parade the naked body of his female slave before his servants, black or white, that was his right. It made not a single speck of difference whether I was concubine number one, or number one thousand and one. Anyway, I realized Carter was a poor excuse for the guilt I felt. My real shame was from the ease with which this man had brought me to heel. I had been altogether too easy, groveling in surrender at the first touch of his hand. I remembered exactly what he had called me earlier…, "a slut, a slattern bitch, a tramp and a potential whore!" How had this masterful male recognized me so quickly? Now I stood trembling with desire before him, my breasts bare, and only the thin nylon of my panties covering my sex. Humiliated and distraught by the prideless way I was offering myself, yet I was helpless to resist. Recognizing my disgrace, I kept my head bowed, and my eyes down staring at the floor as befits a slave woman in the presence of her master. "All of it woman!" Alex demanded. "The panties too! I want you naked! Naked and ready to service my penis! Humble yourself! Honor me with your submission!" I hooked my thumbs into the elastic waist of my panties and pushed them down, carrying the garter belt and hose with them. As I stooped to kick off my shoes and clear the crumpled clothing from around my feet, Alexander reached under me and gripped a hanging breast with a huge hand. I attempted to straighten, but he held me there in that iron grip, bent double at the waist, a naked woman kowtowing before her male master. His command was direct and simple: "Stay! Obey! Submit!" For long minutes he kept me frozen there, awkwardly stooped and exquisitely tortured by the strong fingers mauling my sensitive tit flesh and nipple. High voltage flashes cascaded from my tortured breast, electric flashes that raced downward through my belly to set fire to my cunt. His mastery was so perfect…, his domination so overwhelming…, absolute obedience and servitude were my only options. My legs quivered under the stress keeping my balance. I was afraid to speak, yet I was overwhelmed with the need to beg…, to beg for what…, I didn't know…, for mercy perhaps?. "Please! Please, Sir!" I whimpered. "Please what, slut?" Alexander asked sarcastically. "Please stop? Please don't stop? Please let me go? Please fuck me? Please don't fuck me? Please what, slut? What do you want me to do to you slut." Miss Maybelle had taught me well, and her training came rushing to my rescue. "Please take me SIR," I begged, still whimpering. "Take me! Use me! Fuck me! I am yours I swear! Do with me as you will! PLEASE, SIR, take this slut to your bed and fuck her!" Alexander made no reply. He stood, stripped his belt from his pants, and looped it around my neck. Without uttering a word he led me up the broad staircase by his improvised leash, tugging his naked concubine up the steps behind him. Unable to keep up, I slipped and fell, but my new master gave me no slack in his leash, nor any pity to my helpless plight. The belt around my throat tightened with a cruel yank, and I found myself scrambling upward on my hands, knees, and toes, stair step by stair step, frantic to relieve the choking pressure on my windpipe. At the top of the landing I managed to regain my feet, and trotting to stay with him, I followed his long strides down the hall and into his bedroom. Finally he spoke for the first time since I begged him to fuck me. "On the bed bitch," he ordered as he dropped the end of his improvised leash, and began kicking off his shoes. I lay down on my back and watched as he undressed. "Spread your legs! Play with your pussy Mary Beth. I want your hole wet and slick for my cock when I fuck you." He needn't have worried. My cunt was running like a fountain, but I was grateful for his permission to run my finger up and down my slit and over my clit. I was a bitch in heat, and my cunt did so need the attention. From the top drawer of his dresser he brought to the bed four 6 foot lengths of soft clothesline rope. "Do you need to be tied before I fuck you?" he asked. "No Sir," I answered. "I want you to fuck me. I will not fight you. Oh God no! I need your cock inside me to be your prisoner." "That may well be my horny little bitch," Alexander answered, "but it makes no difference that you are a tramp eager for a prick to fill her greedy pussy. A slave woman must be raped the first time her master takes her. She must be helpless with her legs spread and tied to the corners of the bed. Her arms must be up and tied over her head. That way a female slave learns from the very beginning to accept what she is. Once and for all, and from the first, she must be taught that she has no choice but to pleasure her man however, whenever, and wherever, he wishes." "Carter," he called to his manservant. "Come here I need you." The big black man appeared almost instantaneous to his call. He must have been waiting right outside the door. Certainly he had been listening. Had he been watching too? He had already heard me pitifully plead downstairs to be taken like a street whore, was he now also to be privy to the actual surrender of my pussy? What must he have thought of me as he helped Alexander tie my naked body spread eagle across a bed for the ceremonial sacrifice of my defenseless sex to the rampaging phallus of my owner? His expression was blank and unreadable, but surely he thought I was white trash, a slut, a whore, a woman without pride or morals. In truth, as I later learned, I was not the first woman Carter had helped prepare for her ritual rape. Perhaps that is why he was so efficient. In almost less time than I can tell you about it, the two men had my legs spread and tied to the corners, and my arms pulled tightly upward and bound to the headboard, exactly as Alexander had promised. Oh! What a lover my Alexander was! He might call what he did to me rape, but if so I must be raped more often. In my entire life, before and since, I have never been better fucked, and only a few times as well. This man who had taken me as his property began his assault by crawling between my legs and eating my pussy. Those delicious strokes of his tongue up and down the slit of my sex continued for what seemed like an hour, although his mouth could not have been on my core for so long. Had it been so, I'm sure that I would have died of sheer excitement. His tongue stabbed in and out between my pussy lips, it swirled around my clit, it ran up and down my crack, seeking, teasing, tantalizing, tormenting, until I thought I would go crazy from the pure delight of the orgasms that came tumbling over me. Finished with my vagina, he licked me up my belly, twirling his tongue in my navel, before reaching my breasts with that sweet mouth. Oh, what he did to my nipples! First his tongue, then his lips, and finally his teeth, tortured them in turn. He had been right to tie me to the bed because otherwise I would not have been able to control my body as a slave woman should when her master is enjoying her. Even as it was, I found myself fighting my ropes, alternatively shoving first my sex, then my tit flesh, into his mouth before pulling away as the sensations became too intense to withstand. I must have fainted momentarily, because in my next recollection my lover is already sitting on my chest, his thighs straddling my neck, his buttocks seated on my breasts. Slowly he slid the tip of his hard-on back-and-forth across my lips allowing me to taste the first drops of his pre-cum discharge. I know what delight is in store for me, and I am eager for it. My prediction is correct as he next feeds his swollen penis into my mouth, and orders me to fellate him. "Suck me sweet bitch. Swallow my cock as I fuck your throat. You will learn to love the taste of my meat and the flavor of my seed. Soon you will beg for permission to take me in your mouth, and suck the ambrosia from my testicles." His prick was ever so hard, and ever so long, and the huge plum head at its crown stuffed my throat making it difficult for me to breathe. I so wanted him to feed me his ejaculation that I might taste his essence, but that was not to be. Instead he pulled himself from between my lips, and raising himself over my face, he dangled his great wet and shining member directly above my eyes for me to admire. That great shaft was not a mere penis. It was a weapon! A weapon to erode my will! A weapon to demand my obedience! A weapon to demonstrate his mastery! A weapon to make a slave of the poor female trembling beneath him! First he allowed me to enjoy the feel its silken skin as he drug its full length back and forth across my cheeks, first one and then the other, in tender caresses. Next, as if to symbolically beat me into submission, he slapped my face with that hard rod from chin to forehead, splattering the residue of my saliva and his pre-cum in drips and strings across my eyes, nose, and mouth. Once more he reseated himself, this time astride my ribs where he could comfortably lay his prick between my heaving breasts. His hands squeezed them from the sides, closing my fullness over the top of his erection, stretching those tender globes together until the nipples almost touched. Over and over, perhaps a dozen times or more, he thrust his hips forward and then pulled back, using my tube of tit flesh to jack himself off. His thumbs, rough and harsh against my teats, were counterpoints to the smooth slide of his prick through my feminine softness. Surely, I thought, he would cum in my face, but to my distress he did not! Instead, only to tease me I'm sure, he changed the tempo and direction of his assault. I moaned in protest when his hands released my breasts, but he paid me no heed as he laid his body out lengthwise on top of me. Straightening his legs down the bed sheet, he spread them as wide as my own spread-eagled thighs, pressing his smooth skin deliciously against mine. For a long time, we lay there as one person, his piercing black eyes staring directly into mine, leg to leg, belly to belly, chest to breast, face to face, flesh to flesh, his hard-on cramped against my slit. His dominating stare, his warmth, his weight, his sex against mine…, MY GOD, it was all so delicious! Finally he asked, "Are you ready now little slut? Are you ready to be fucked?" Why would he ask? He knew I was. "Oh yes sir," I answered quickly. "I beg! Please, please Sir, fuck me Sir! I beg you, FUCK ME SIR!" His hips raised. The long erection that had been pressed so deliciously along the length of my vagina pulled away, but its crown dipped back to touch the lips of my slit ever so tenderly. "If only your hands were free Mary Beth. I would make you prove your submission by starting my cock into your cunt. Tonight you are tied, however, and that is a pleasure I must forgo to another time." He reached between us with a big hand, and parting my pussy lips with the tip of that dangling male shaft, he set himself firmly inside my slit. A single hunch of his hips finished the job, burying him all the way to the mouth of my womb. Oh God, but it hurt! He was so big, and he had split me open with such quick violence, I wondered if my poor pussy had been torn. Behind that first scalding flash, however, came a pure pleasure that washed away the pain under waves of erotic excitement. If I had not been his slave before, this first experience of having him inside me would have certainly made me so. "Yes! Please! More! Harder please! Fuck me harder!" I begged. It is a defining moment in a woman's life to be so filled, so stripped of pride and self-respect, so utterly without shame, that she will beg a man to fuck her. Was my weakness because I was in love with this man and his great penis, or was I his slave only because my cunt was insatiable? The answer did not matter. I was his and that was that. "That's right little bitch," my new master answered. "Beg! Beg me to fuck your worthless pussy. Beg me for my cock. Beg me for my cum. You belong to me now. Obey me! Serve me!" I hardly heard him. I was already too far gone, already sliding helplessly down hill into that deep chasm of sensual pleasure that only a woman who has been there could appreciate. I begged him, pleaded with him actually, to use me, to give me more cock, to fuck me, and keep on fucking me, hard and deep. And, he did so! Over and over! Again and again, his iron rod stroked in and out of my tender hole. With each thrust the velvet smooth skin of that phallic rod rubbed over my exposed clit. As if they were actually static electricity, sparks struck from that sensitive nub lit a smoldering blaze deep in my ovaries that soon became a raging fire storm that consumed my total being in sheets of flaming orgasm. At last it was over. His sperm flooded my pussy. As his warmth spurted into my womb, I climbed to the mountain top only to drop tumbling and screaming off that cliff into the bottomless pit of my last shattering climax. My lover rolled from between my legs and lay at my side. Both of us were breathing heavily. Neither of us spoke. There was nothing to say. We each knew our relationship was now set in stone. I had been reduced to a sack of quivering female flesh without purpose in life other than his pleasure…, and mine. He was master. I was slave. Henceforth I would have no will of my own, and nothing would matter to me but the service of this magnificent penis that had just pleasured me so. My new master rose to his knees, and straddling my breasts, his hand fed his great cock into my mouth. I understood this unspoken command. Gratefully, even reveling in my servile task, I sucked him clean of the slick residue from our coupling. My enthusiasm was not wasted as gradually his organ resumed its erection. What a lover I had found! Even as well fucked as I was, he was not finished with me! Now he intended to fuck my mouth. I was willing. All evening I had thirsted for the privilege of orally servicing this adored penis and swallowing its discharge. That time had at last come, and I meant to make the most of it. It takes a few minutes even for a man as virile as my new master to recover from an ejaculation, but in the end, I was not disappointed. With every stroke of my lips, the phallus that was plugged in my mouth became ever harder, and under the pressure of my tongue I could feel his heartbeat through its silky smooth skin. That pulse gradually became a throb that grew stronger with every beat, and every throb was a promise that my reward was on its way. Torments of the Widow McWorter Ch. 07-10 When it finally came, I swallowed the flood of creamy male semen as fast as he spurted into my throat. His taste was ambrosia to me just as he had predicted. When finished at last, he rocked back on his haunches, pulled his dick from my lips, and with his softening penis in his hand, he rubbed the great ball at its end across my cheeks leaving my face marked with a thin trail of his final mucus. It was then that I first heard stirring off to the side of our bed. It was Carter, and the noise I heard was him rising from his chair. It distressed me to know Carter had now witnessed every episode of my slutty surrender. He had been present as Alexander mastered me and forced my pitiful admission that I was truly a slut who wanted to be fucked. He had heard me beg like a street whore for my master's cock. He had seen me fucked, and finally, he had watched me wrap my lips around that great male tube, and after I had sucked it dry, swallow the gift it had left in my throat. I felt deeply shamed. Excepting only her master, even a slave woman is entitled to her secrets, but I had none left from Carter. It was bad enough for the man who owns me to know what a trashy slut I am, and how hungry my pussy is for hard male meat. That a black servant knows that as well was mortifying beyond belief. You might think that I shouldn't care about Carter after the way Maebelle had used and degraded me. After all, on my mistress' orders I had flaunted my body as sex bait before my fellow students. I had shared with her the cock of her Negro boyfriend, and the pussies of her lesbian friends. She had prostituted me at stag parties and at a honkytonk bar where I publicly ate Monique's pussy before servicing the rampant pricks of total strangers. On that record, why should I care that Carter has seen me grovel in abject submission as I take cock? I did care, however. I was no longer fucking some nameless stranger I would never see again. I was no longer a whore performing before a audience of a faceless men at some stag party or in a roadhouse honkytonk hidden away in the back woods of South Carolina. No, everything was different now! The man whom I now serve is no casual one night stand. He is the famous Reverend McWorter, a prominent and permanent fixture in my home town, and in my life He is a man to whom I have pledged my eternal submission and obedience. He is the man I mean to worship as my master for as long as he will have me. He owns me. I am his slave I adore him. All that makes our intimacy a private thing. Although it humbles a woman to beg for her man's cock, it is not an uncommon experience. It is not, however, a humiliation any woman is proud of, and certainly not one a woman wishes to share. For a mere servant, and a black one at that, to hear her pitiful pleading to be fucked is particularly distasteful. Servants must respect those whom they serve, yet how could I possibly look Carter in the eye after he has seen me in heat. Surely, knowing what a slut I am he would mock me. Even worse, who will he tell about me? What stories will he spread amongst his fellow servants about how he watched me groveling naked at Reverend McWorter's feet shamelessly pleading to be filled with a hard penis." Yet Carter's face expressed neither shock nor blame as he untied my arms and legs freeing me from the bed. In truth, he seemed entirely unconcerned with my behavior as he handed me a towel and told me that Alexander expected me to join him in the bath. My shower with him was wonderful, something I will never forget. I carefully soaped my new master's body with special attention to his privates. I rinsed him carefully, and toweled him dry when I finished, but I did not insult his magnificent balls and penis by using a mere cloth on them. On my knees I worshipped them with my mouth as they were due, licking away the drops of water with my tongue. When our shower was done, master and I returned to his bed, and I cuddled nude in his arms as we slept. In the cool of the predawn, he woke me, spread my legs, and fucked me again, long and lovingly. It was the most wonderful ending to the most wonderful night of my life. The next day, Alexander announced that I would now join his personal choir. I protested and told him I was neither a singer nor musician. He replied that this choir sang only for him. Musical ability and talent was not important or even necessary. He said its qualifications for membership had "different criteria," that were "somewhat unconventional". I had no idea what he was talking about but I was soon to find out. ------------------------------------------------ 9. My master's Choir. Alexander fucked me almost every day for the next two weeks, but it was only at the end of that time I first met any of the other members of his "choir". It was a Saturday morning when my new sex master called and ordered me to be at his estate not later than 5 o'clock that evening. Carter met me at the door, and immediately led me upstairs to the bath of a vacant bedroom where he stripped me of my clothes, and dumped me into a tub of hot perfumed water. Once I was well scrubbed, he shaved my legs and pussy. His barbers skill made it obvious that I was not the first woman he had made ready to perform for his employer's entertainment. Once out of the tub and dried with the huge towel, Carter carefully combed out my hair, made up my face, and painted my nipples with rouge. He handcuffed my wrists in front of me, and buckled a broad black leather dog collar around my neck to which he attached a leather lead. With a word of explanation he jerked on the lead signaling that I should follow him downstairs. I can't begin to express how humbling it was to be a southern white woman stripped naked and led away by a black servant like an animal bitch on the end of a leash. I had hoped to be greeted by my master as I arrived, and I felt betrayed and humiliated that he left to me with this Negro to be washed, handcuffed, collared, leashed, and led away in the nude like a woman taken as a spoil of war. In the front door foyer a pair of marble columns flanked the entrance into another more spacious room Carter called "the chapel". High up on each column was a brass ring. Carter pressed my bare back and buttocks against the cold marble, raised my arms over my head, and lifting me to my toes, he attached my handcuffs to that ring with a short chain. Carter had said scarcely a word since I had arrived, speaking only as absolutely necessary. With my arms stretched tightly over my head, my body nude and vulnerable, he left me to hang there still without a word of explanation. Twenty minutes or so later he returned with an attractive petite young woman with jet black hair. She was naked, handcuffed, collared, and a led in by her leash just as I had been. Carter chained her to the column on the other side of the doorway with her arms over her head as he had done with me. At first I did not recognize her, but then who she was came to me in a thunderbolt. It was Melissa, the wife of Carlin, the young preacher who I work for, and had tried to seduce so unsuccessfully. She was a very pretty woman, small but with full and well shaped breasts, a nice ass, and muscular legs. With her arms stretched tight over her head, her tits stood out without the slightest sag, and she presented quite a sexy picture. I was shocked to see her like this. She and always seemed so virginal, proper and demure, and she was married to a preacher, yet here she was, naked and chained to a post, apparently another of Alex's love slaves. I waited for a moment hoping that she would be the one to start a conversation, but either she didn't recognize me or was pretending not to. When she did not speak, I could wait no longer to find out what was going on here. "Hello Melissa!" I said. "Perhaps you don't recognize me. I'm Mary Beth, the secretary at your husband's church. Why are we here? What is this all about? What is going to happen to us?" "Please speak softly," she cautioned. "If we are caught talking Carter will punish us with his whip. Anyway, don't you know? This is one of the nights when chosen members of the Reverend's choir will be auctioned off for three days service as sex slaves of the successful buyers. You and I are here as the Reverend's hostesses to greet his guests who have been invited to bid for these women. We are chained to these columns that we might tempt these men's horny into bidding generously for the bodies of our choir sisters. You must be a new initiatate to the choir, or you would know all about these auctions, and how honored you should be to be selected by the Reverend to be his hostess." "That's very interesting," I told her, "but isn't it a bit unusual for the hostess to be chained naked to a post? " "Not tonight, Honey," she answered. A more traditional hostess would offer her guests a glass of wine or a cracker with cheese dip. At this party, the orderves are different. Your body is the tasty treat offered to whet the appetite of the guests before the main course." I pondered her reply for a moment, and then asked, "Is that what I am then, a tableau, something sexy for his guests to ogle like little boys peeking through a crack into the girls' locker room?" The woman chained to the other post smiled knowingly. "Sister, you are not here just to look at. Your feminine charms are here to be felt and explored. You can be certain our guests will do just that. They will run their hands between our legs, pinch our nipples, and test the softness of our breasts." "Nor does their license end there. A guest has only to ask, and Carter will take you down, and you will be made to kneel and service the guest with your mouth. No doubt, before the night is over you will be on your knees at least once sucking a strange cock and swallowing its discharge. No sister, lovely is your body is, you are not here only to show it off. You are chained to that column to excite the Reverend's guests into opening their wallets, and short of actually fucking you, they may use your charms in any way they want." I was not in the least shocked at what I was told. Miss Maebelle had prostituted me too often for the prospect of giving a blow job to a stranger to frighten me. I did want to know more, however. I admitted to Melissa that I was indeed new to the choir, and asked her to explain what else I could expect to happen this evening. Mellisa continued to whisper, not in the least reluctant to continue as long as Carter did not overhear us. "Other sisters of the Reverend's choir will arrive here shortly. Some will be offered at auction to the highest bidder, and those sisters will serve the men who buy them as slaves for the next three days. Sisters who are not on the auction block tonight will serve food and drink to the guests before and during the auction. They will do so nude, and like ourselves they are female flesh, fair game to be felt and teased by the guests, although they're not required to give blow jobs as you and I are. Of course those women who are for sale have the most difficult and uncertain fate. The chances are that most will be bought by horny businessmen who have been tempted by the enticingly dirty fantasy of owning a female slave. Such men have not yet learned how to be cruel, and the women they buy are likely to be frequently fucked but reasonably well treated. One or two less fortunate of our sisters may be bought by sadists who get off on beating and abusing a defenseless woman. The worst luck of all tho is to be bought by a pimp who operates a cat house or escort service. Any sister purchased by one of these men will be used as a professional prostitute, and for the three days of her slavery she will be a common whore forced to service a random selection of strange cocks. "What is the point of all this," I asked. "Why is the Reverend running a slave market? Why do these women allow him to sell them as whores to strangers?" Melissa reacted to my question so quickly I suspected she was giving a practiced and well prepared reply to questions she had heard before. "The Reverend's Old Alabama Gospel Hour is an expensive operation. Those members of the choir who cannot afford the mandatory tithes support him and his ministry by allowing him to sell their bodies to the highest bidder for three days of sexual service. They are specially privileged by this opportunity. In addition to the required monetary contributions, all other members of our faith are must periodically perform some severe penitence for our sins. Only the women of the Reverend's personal choir sold at auction enjoy the double benefit of cleansing themselves of their sins and satisfying their financial obligations at the same time." Amazing I thought, but I knew from my father how strong the influence of a religious belief can be. I had also heard that it was not unusual for a charismatic cult leader to partake of the sexual favors of this female followers, often with the knowledge and acceptance of their cuckolded husbands. Alexander had mesmerized me from the first time I spoke to him, and I can imagine that he has that affect on most women. Add the impact of religious zeal to his dominating personality, and I could certainly understand how he could become Alabama's Rasputin enslaving every poor woman who crossed his path. Yet this auction Melissa was telling me about was a long step beyond the simple seduction of individual parishioners. Incredibly, the men of the Reverend's church were not only willing to share their women with their personable minister, they also allowed him to sell them as slaves, even as common prostitutes. Surely such tolerance required a leap of faith far beyond any thing I had ever heard of before. "But what of the husbands of these women," I asked. "Do they approve of their wives being sold at auction as the sex slaves of total strangers, and sometimes even used as whores?" "Of course they do," Melissa answered quite cheerfully as if it was only natural that they would. "You will see tonight. Every sister brought here will be accompanied by her husband, father, or boyfriend. This will not be the first auction of choir members for either the women or their men. Each man is fully aware of how his woman will be used, but their obligation to the Reverend's ministry is every bit as great as that of their women. You will see, we all understand and accept the sacrifices that must be made along the pathway to salvation. "This is a religious thing then, something like a sacrament?" I asked timidly, trying to hide my amazement at what I was being told. Melissa was not shy about her faith. "Of course! Reverend McWorter speaks for God. He is a modern day apostle and his word is law to our faithful. All of us are honored to be selected. As members of his choir, and by performing services that go with it, we honor our men as much as ourselves. By our obedience we prove our faith. But you are here, a member of the choir also. Surely you understand this?" I did not want to admit to this true believer that although I was a slave to her preacher's penis, I didn't give a damn about his theological doctrine. I avoided her question by only nodding my head, but apparently rather doubtfully, because Melissa seemed amazed that I appeared hesitant about something that was so plain to her. "Of course our men are agreeable. Some more so than others it is true, but they all know they are climbing the ladder to glory right along with us, and most are delighted that our beloved Reverend would select their wife, daughter, or girlfriend, to serve him so personally." Melissa grinned a little as she shyly added with a blush, "Or should I say 'service him' so personally." "Tonight, you will understand better when you see these loving men joyfully lead their women to the altar of their redemption. Each man will have already stripped his woman naked, tied her hands behind her back, and buckled the Reverend's collar around her neck. Thus prepared, he will offer her to the greater glorification of the Reverend and his message. When she returns to him after her three days of penitence she will be purified and in a state of grace. Her husband or boyfriend will have sex with her, and cleansed as she is of her sin, that will be a godly thing good for both their souls." 'Maybe so Melissa", I continued to question, "but what of your husband? I have come to know him pretty well and I find it hard to believe he willingly allows the Reverend to fuck you, and even more unbelievable, that he gives you to him to sell like some pimp running a whorehouse. How does Carlin manage all this?" "I'm afraid not always with good grace," Melissa admitted grudgingly. "As I said, not all of our husbands find it easy to travel the path the Reverend has set for us, and Carlin is…, how should I put it…, among those less well adjusted," Melissa frowned as she spoke of Carlin as if she was somehow disappointed in him, yet hopeful. "Nevertheless, my husband accepts the Reverend as his Apostle and master just as I do, and with a little encouragement he is as obedient as I. True, it is hard for him sometimes. He hates it when he is required to watch me take the Reverend's big cock. As difficult as it is for him to see me with my legs spread begging the Reverend to fuck me, however, he suffers much more when the Reverend makes him participate in my sexing." "On those nights when my husband is in our bed as the Reverend fucks me, he is naked wearing the same collar of a slave as I do. First, he must suck the Reverend's cock. He that is particularly degrading to him because it insults his masculinity that he is very proud of. Once the Reverend is stiff and hard, it is my turn. I spread my legs, Carlin crawls between them, and licks my pussy until my clit is out and I'm sopping wet. When my poor Carlin has us both ready, the Reverend's hips replace my husband's head between my thighs. Settled solidly in my saddle, he seizes my wrists, and demonstrating his mastery over his lowly slave woman, he stretches my arms straight back over my head and pins them to the bed there. Helpless under his weight I can only wait impatiently to be stuck with his great cock, but the Reverend never hurries. He knows how much I want him, but he will never fuck me until in my frustration I have begged him for it. That is quicker than it ought to be for a decent married woman like myself, but I become so desperate when he raises his ass and drags the tip of his hard prick over the lips of my pussy." "Yet, even after I have begged for him to fuck me, I still have one final humiliation. My God, I do so need him so, but he will neither take my cunt, nor free my hands that I might start him in my slit. I lay there under him in heat, and suffering as the fire in my pussy grows out of control." "There is only one way I can end my torment. I try not to give in, but in the end, I can stand it no more. I always break, and to his delight, I always do the hateful thing he demands before he will fuck me. Overwhelmed with shame, but crazed with lust, I cry out for my husband to take the Reverend's penis in his hand and guide it into my adulterous cunt." At my wits end, I have neither shame for myself nor pity for my humiliated husband. Pleading with him I ask, "Please, dear God! Please! Please Carlin, help me! I need it! Put it in me! Stick him in my cunt! Give me his cock! Please…, NOW!" "The Reverend, however, does not ask, he commands. 'Well boy, you heard your wife! DO IT! Slide me into your little woman's greedy pussy'. Poor Carlin is crushed to do that, but the Reverend is pitiless when it comes up to humbling my husband. Sometimes I think Alexander only fucks me because he knows how it humiliates Carlin to have me hanging on the end of his dick." Torments of the Widow McWorter Ch. 07-10 "Not even being forced to start the Reverend's cock in my pussy, however, will be the end of my Carlin's degradation. While the Reverend fucks my pussy, he makes my poor husband stand at the end of the bed and masturbate, but he is not permitted to ejaculate until after the Reverend has cum inside me. Even when he is at last allowed his climax, Carlin must spurt his jism into the crack of the Reverend's ass, and then clean it off with this tongue while the Reverend lays on top of me with his prick still soaking in my sopping pussy. Humbled and ashamed, my husband is required to continue tending us until he cleans away the juices of the our adulterous intercourse with his tongue, first off the Reverend's cock, and then from my cunt." "Yes you are quite right! My husband hates what I do for my faith, but this is his faith also, and like all the other men with women who belong to the Reverend's choir, he obeys for the sake of his soul and its salvation. If he only wasn't a so proud, and accepted our obligations and obedience to our apostle with better graces, I'm sure the Reverend would not pick on him so, and life would be so much easier for him." "My goodness, but that must be so terrible for him," I said, no longer able to hide my incredulous reaction. "The poor man must be so frustrated he can hardly stand it. Does he fuck you often?" "No," Melissa answered, a little hesitantly I thought. "Although all the other men are allowed to have sex with their women even though they are members of his choir, Reverend McWorter does not allow Carlin to fuck me…, not ever. You see, the Reverend has chosen me to be the mother of his child, and he breeds me regularly that I might conceive from his sperm. I do so look forward to the time when my belly swells with the gift from God that our Apostle has planted there. Obviously, while I am being bred with the Apostle's blessed seed, Carlin's sperm must not contaminate my womb." "Talk about being frustrated…," I started to interrupt, but Melissa shook her head 'no' and continued to explain before I could say anything further. "No! No! You don't understand. Not having me in his bed is not as difficult for Carlin as you might think. Our Apostle understands that a man has needs, and he arranges for Carlin to get his rocks off quite regularly. Two or three times a week at a minimum, Carlin is assigned to service one or more of the less attractive females of our congregation." "These women may be older, somewhat ugly or overweight, or lacking in breast size, and therefore not suitable for membership in the Reverend's choir. Nevertheless they are in serious need to be serviced by a hard cock, and the Reverend has assigned Carlin to give them what they are so hungry for. As a result my husband has more pussy than he can handle. It may not be what you would call prime stuff, but all cats look alike in the dark, right? Anyway, the Reverend occasionally has Carlin fuck one of these women while he and I watch, and I can tell you this much, my spouse certainly dicks them with great enthusiasm." I must have looked doubtful because Melissa continued trying to convince me. "You have to understand, the Reverend is very good to these women, just as he is to Carlin. Many do not have a man of their own, and those that do get little attention from him. Carlin is in great demand with a full schedule. He can have a woman in his bed every night if he chooses. All of them are sincerely appreciative of the way my husband pleasures them, and they absolutely worship him and his penis. Actually, he does have a very nice penis and he uses it quite well. I sometimes regret that the Reverend does not allow me to enjoy it also." At this point, Carter reentered the room where Melissa and I were chained, cutting our conversation short. I must admit that I was stunned at the scope of Alexander's sexual fiefdom and the apparently unquestioning loyalty of its serfs, both male and female. I was, however, also bitterly disappointed to learn that my master owned so many sincerely devoted female slaves with whom I must compete. I should have suspected as much from the beginning, however. I am aware of how common it is for a sexual master to keep a harem of many women who do his will. It was not easy, but I choked back my jealousy. I reminded myself that as a common slave, I am only a wet cunt for my master's use, and I have no right to expect that he will be monogamously faithful to me. Still there is much I do not understand. Alexander is master and I am slave, that much is simple and certain, but why me? With so many others already in his choir I am certainly not needed to satisfy his masculine rut. Since I do not share a religious fanaticism with my sister "choir" slaves, why would he add me to his harem? How can he trust me? I am bound to him only by his penis, and that is something that women are frequently fickle about. Even more puzzling, he told me on the night of my surrender, and several times since, that he might take me as his wife. Again why me when there are so many others who believe he has some kind of mandate from God and would be much easier to control? I'm sure he must have his reasons. He is a man with plans for his future, but for the life of me I cannot imagine what part he has chosen for me to play in them. In the end, however, I decided I would trust him to do what was best for me, and let time answer my questions. Until then I would not worry with matters that are not a slave's concern. A woman newly initiated into sexual servitude should concentrate on pleasuring her master and his magnificent penis, and let the other chips fall as they may. My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of two dozen or so automobiles. These were all older models showing their age, and each was driven by a man who brought a single female passenger. Naked except for their black leather collars, their arms tied behind their backs, each was led on a leash behind her driver (whom I presumed to be her husband or boyfriend) with her head humbly bowed and her gaze frozen to the floor. Soon eight of these women were standing on a raised stage at the far end of the chapel from my column, all of them still collared, leashed, and with their arms tied behind. They were all average housewives, perhaps not as comely as Melissa and myself, but not unattractive and certainly more than tasty enough to excite a man's cock. Without a doubt the promised fantasy of owning one of these women implicit to so much temptingly nude feminine skin would make this a profitable evening for the Reverend. It was perhaps only 10 minutes later that a caravan of more automobiles pulled up in the driveway. In contrast to those that brought the women, these vehicles were new, expensive, and polished. Some were limousines and many were driven by chauffeurs. From behind tinted windows emerged enigmatic men in dark blue or gray business suits wearing dark glasses even though night was already falling. I knew who they were. "Bidders arriving for the auction, vultures looking forward to a feast on female flesh," I thought. The men gathered in the foyer where Melissa and I were chained to our columns. The choir members assigned as waitresses, naked except for their black leather slave collars, circulated among the men serving drinks, shrimp and sausages on toothpicks, cheeses, and crackers with assorted dips. The guests milled about chatting with each other enjoying the refreshments and the bare flesh of the waitresses. If the waitresses had been clothed, and Melissa and I were not chained to our respective columns, the scene would have looked like any ordinary cocktail party. It seemed to me that most, if not all, these "guests" already knew each other. Perhaps they had met in their businesses, or perhaps just as likely, they had previously attended one of the Reverend's slave auctions. From time to time, one would stop in front of either Melissa or myself to feel our breasts, or to run a finger into our pussies. As humiliating as it was to be treated as so much female meat, I was nevertheless in heat, and my wet was running down the inside of my thigh. It was something out of the Arabian nights, and ever so eroticly exciting, to be a naked female on display in bondage before rich and powerful men. Stimulated by their fingers, my imagination wandered and carried me into a fantasy far away in time and space. I could quite clearly see myself as a Sultan's harem houri forced to dance nude for the amusement of rich merchants who had traveled from far off Venice and Genoa to trade with my owner, their gold for his dates and spices…, and for his female slaves…, such as myself. My mind drifted between the reality of the erotic present, and an equally erotic world of my imagination. Actually there was little difference between them. Every time one of the Reverend's guests would play with my nipples and pussy, I felt a common bond with all the women down through the ages who have been forced to offer themselves to the exploring hands and rampant cocks of wealthy and important men. One man whom I surmised from his beard and dark complexion was of Middle Eastern descent (an Arab I would guess) was particularly interested in me. He finally asked Carter to take me down from the post. He said, "She has a nice mouth. I think I would like to try it around my dick." Miss Maebelle had trained me well. I knew what I must do. I knelt before him, carefully removed his penis from his fly, and wrapped my lips around his partially soft but already stiffening member. Carter was watching me closely. I knew he would report to master on my performance, and I did my very best to impress him. The cock in my mouth hardened, and I began to bob my head raking its full length with my lips, taking the crown down my throat. In only minutes I was swallowing the spurts of semen. "Ah! She has lips of honey. Tell me about her!" the Arab demanded of Carter. "Is this one for sale tonight?" "No I'm afraid not," Carter replied. "She is a new addition to the Reverend's choir and I believe he has special plans for her." There was that hint of my future again! My master has "special plans" for me. Does my master confide in Carter? Does this black servant know what my master intends for me? While I was considering the possibilities Carter was returning me to my column. I must have made quite an impression on the Arab whose cock I had just sucked. I could hear him telling Carter that it was a shame I wasn't for sale, and that he would certainly pay a very high price for me. After I was again chained and helpless, the Arab stayed with me to finger fuck my pussy with one hand while he squeezed my tits with the other. I did not disappoint him. It does make a woman so terribly horny to be stretched and helpless against a cold marble post with male hands exploring her most intimate nooks and crannies. I rewarded the finger inside of me with an orgasm any street whore would have been proud of. To the delight of my bearded dark skinned tormentor, my cunt juice ran in streams into and over the hand that had pleasured. The Arab offered it sopping wet to my mouth for me to clean with my lips and tongue. Only when Carter interrupted to announce the start of the auction did my Arab leave me. The foyer emptied quickly as the men drifted into the chapel and gathered before the elevated stage where the eight women who were the night's merchandize stood awaiting their fate. I had an open view through the doorway into the chapel, and I could see the auction stage quite clearly. The arms of all the women were tied behind them. Nooses hanging from the ceiling looped around their necks to insure that they stood tall and at attention Each kept her head bowed and her eyes on the floor carefully screening her emotions as befits a female slave on the auction block. They all seemed resigned to their fate, but I felt sure every one was terrified of their uncertain fate. Indeed, terrified might be inadequate to describe what they were thinking. From what Melissa had told me no one could predict how they would be treated by the men who bought them. Certainly they would be used sexually, we all knew that. Each must be wondering, however, how often and in what way she might be fucked, and by how many different men. Would she be whipped and humiliated as well? A hugely fat and naked woman with enormous tattooed tits and arms, heavy thighs, and a roll of fat around her belly, was on the stage as the auctioneer. In her hand was a limber switch that she flicked randomly at her charges as if to remind them to behave. Soon Madam Tattooed Tits would be offering my sisters in the Reverend's choir for sale to the highest bidder. Obviously this was a job she had done before because she knew exactly how to exhibit the feminine assets of her merchandize to the best advantage. First she would demonstrate with her hands and mouth how soft and pliable each woman's breast was, before biting down on a nipple and stretching it in her teeth out to its painful limit. When the cruel fat woman auctioneer finished demonstrating teats, each woman was made into spread her legs and show the bidders her pretty shaved pussy. Madam Fat Tits completed that bit of humbling advertising by going from woman to woman briefly finger fucking each one in turn. Brief as it was, however, the finger did the trick for at least two women I'm sure I saw orgasm almost as soon it disappeared inside their slit. All this slave auction business had caught me so off guard, and it had not occurred to me before, but some of these women must actually be looking forward to their brief experience of being sold as slaves. Perhaps unsatisfied at home, or perhaps merely caught up in an erotic fantasy of standing on an auction block waiting to be sold as a sex slave to a strange man, some of my choir sisters were clearly inflamed by their situation. For a moment even I was envious. What kind of owner are each of these women hoping for? That he will be gentle and kind, or that he will flog her before he fucks her? That he will eat her pussy? That he likes, or doesn't like, having his cock sucked? That he will be impotent, or that he will have a big cock and use it in her often. That he will, or will not, share her with other men…, or women? As a grand finale before beginning the bidding, the big tattooed female auctioneer walked slowly up and down her line of prisoners switching their legs. With nooses around their necks, the only possible response by the slave women to the stinging pain was to dance a frantic jig with their legs and feet that set all those lovely naked breasts to bobbing in a most erotic and enticingly sexy way. Horny from the auctioneer's clever merchandizing, the prospective buyers were eager, and the bidding was furiously competitive. One by one the slaves of the Reverend's choir were led off the stage by the man who would own her for the next three days. Some brought better prices than others. A very tall tan blond woman with small breasts but a pretty face, a nice ass, and long legs went for almost $3,500. A buxom redhead with liberal hips and muscular thighs topped that by a couple of hundred dollar's. The Arab who had finger fucked me did not make a single bid. Instead he stood off to the side talking earnestly to my master. I knew he was talking about me, I could just feel it, and I was terribly afraid of what it might mean. Would my master sell me privately? At the end of the auction, the man who had purchased the redheaded woman with the big tits did not wait to enjoy her privately. He pushed his new slave to her knees in front of the doorway, and with her hands still tied behind her back, stuffed her mouth with his cock. The circle of men around him cheering him on blocked my view of my master and the Arab. By that time I could again see my master, the Arab was gone. ----------------------------------- 10. A private party. The Reverend's guests left quickly after the last woman was sold. As soon as the last one was gone, Carter took Melissa and I down from our columns, attached leashes to our collars, and led us off to our master's upstairs bedroom. He was already there, sitting on the edge of the big oversized bed. Seated beside him was the Arab whose cock I had sucked earlier. Both men were nude, and between their spread thighs, naked and on their knees, were two overweight matronly women sucking cock as if starved for male meat. Neither woman hesitated or looked up from their servile task as Melissa and I entered the room, "Ah Yes! Come in girls," our master greeted us smiling broadly. "Melissa, Mary Beth, I want you two to meet Sheik Ali Mohammad of the Saudi royal family. I understand that the Sheik has already made your acquaintance of Mary Beth, and he is quite taken with her. In fact, so much so that he has made a very generous contribution to our church in order that he might pursue his friendship further. Mary Beth, I'm sure that as our evening goes on you will see to it that he is properly rewarded for his generosity." "And you Melissa," our master continued smugly, "I'm afraid that lately I have been neglecting my responsibility to breed your hungry pussy. Certainly I cannot expect you to become 'with child' unless I do my part." "But…, dear me, where are my manners? I have forgotten to introduce these two ladies who have been so deliciously sucking our dicks. May I present Mrs. Leander Polk, and Mrs. Jonathan Speedwell, or as they are known to their friends, Nancy and Alice. I'm sure you have both heard of their husbands who are among Mobile's most prominent bankers and financiers. As you can see, while we waited for you to arrive both ladies have been doing a superb job sucking our cocks." Alexander was lovingly stroking the hair of the matron between his legs as he suggested, "Take a break now ladies, and say hello to this pair of sluts from my choir, Melissa and Mary Beth." Until then the older women had not looked up from their servile task, and their faces had remained largely hidden between the thighs of the men whose cocks filled their mouths. Only when Alexander had demanded it, did they raise their heads and mumble an embarrassed greeting. They were both in their mid 50's with large sagging breasts, and they were both passably attractive except for age and being rather fat. Both were blushing furiously and neither would look me in the eye. I could understand why they were so deeply embarrassed and distressed. Any woman would be if unexpectedly caught by a pair of total strangers kneeling naked between a man's knees giving him a blow job. Master pretended to reassure the two matrons, but his words were more cutting sarcasm than comforting. "Come now ladies, you have nothing to be ashamed of. What better way is there for a woman to warm up for an evening of sex than to wrap her mouth around a delicious stalk of male meat? How else does a woman learn to please a man except by practice? Anyway, as you can see, Melissa and Mary Beth are a pair of naked sluts here to be fucked. Experienced cocksuckers themselves, they are in no position to make moral judgments, or to think less of you because you were using the Sheik and I to hone your skills at the fine art of fellatio. " "Anyway," our master continued, "We have no secrets here. This is a party. Carlin, the gentleman date I have arranged for you ladies this evening, has lately earned something of a local reputation as a cocksman. Sheik Mohammed and I wanted to see him perform in the hope we might learn something from him. I invited Milissa and Mary Beth here to relieve us of the raging hard-ons we were sure to have after watching him service your hungry pussies. Besides, since Melissa is his wife, it is only fair that she see how her husband's technique has improved from his considerable recent practice outside her bed. In any event, I'm sure we're all going to have a fun evening, and some very delightful sex." Torments of the Widow McWorter Ch. 07-10 Melissa turned pale at the mention of her husband. I'm certain our mutual master anticipated her reaction, undoubtedly exactly what he wanted. Having struck a sore spot, he was quick to include Melissa in his ongoing torment of the two naked matrons who by this time were in full blush, and trying to hide their pussies between closed fleshy thighs without being obvious about it. "I am told Carlin has a very nice cock and that he uses it quite well, but of course Melissa already knows that. As a matter of fact so do Nancy and Alice. Tonight will not be the first time they have had the pleasure of being stuck with it. Please ladies, do not despair. You are among friends here, and there is no shame in enjoying an encore ride upon this young man's best feature. To the contrary, your request to use him again is a flattering testament to his skill." "Nor need you be concerned about Carlin fucking you in front of his wife. Melissa knows of her husband's contributions to those ladies of my congregation whose pussies may not be receiving enough attention at home. As for me, I am only here to make sure he does not disappoint his, er…, ah…, client." Alexander was sneering as he added as an aside, " Ah, but my use of 'client' to describe you ladies is possibly improvident. I trust you fine ladies do not take it as an insult?" The smirk was still on his face as he continued. "Nancy.., Alice…, think of your audience this evening as a quality check. I want to be absolutely certain that you are pleased with the date that I have arranged for you as a token of my appreciation, inadequate as it is compared to generous contribution you have each made to our church and my message." If these two poor ladies had been embarrassed and uneasy before, by the time of Alexander was finished with his faux sympathy they were in a state of total mortification. It was humiliating enough to be seen naked and on their knees with mouthfuls of penis. It was even more degrading for us all to know they were paying a pimp to arrange for a man to fuck them. That this was not the first time they had done made this little tryst on Carlin's cock all the more shameful. Of course our master knew that better than anyone. The smug bastard! He was purposely pouring guilt over the heads of these already unhappy wives of prominent businessmen. His pleasure in doing so told me something of the envious contempt he must feel for these women, and their sexual hang-ups and desires that were ordinarily kept hidden under the veneer of social prestige and position. I felt sorry for them, and I was learning how deliberately cruel and unfair this new master of mine could be. These two pitiful women were such easy targets. Aging, overweight, and no longer desirable to their husbands (who were probably keeping mistresses on the side), they were only doing what they must to have what they needed so badly…, a cock to service their pussies. Their situation was sympathetic, and largely blameless. Never the less, Alexander threw it in their faces that they were here paying him for a gigolo to fuck them, and not for the first time either. Put that way, their understandable attempt to rescue a little of their sex lives sounded shameful and dirty, and I'm sure it cut them right to the quick. Alexander acted as if he hadn't noticed the shame and guilt written across their faces. "Carter," he called out to his servant, "Bring us some more wine and on the way invite Melissa's husband to come in and join us." Carlin must have been waiting nearby because he almost immediately walked through the door. He was as naked as the rest of us, and I couldn't help but admire this tall blond and handsome preacher who was my employer. Melissa was right! He did have a very nice cock. So nice that my attention froze on it, and at first I didn't notice the black leather collar around his neck that marked him as a male slave. Alexander was so very good at this game of humiliation and intimidation. It made no difference whether his victim was male or female, so easily does he make slaves of us all. "Ah yes, here my handsome boy fuck-machine is now." Alexander was clearly gloating at the young preacher's discomfort and the corresponding panic in the eyes of Melissa. Look how well equipped he is. Could any woman ask for more? Tell me boy, are you ready to do your thing for these two sexy ladies who have been waiting for you so patiently?" Carlin stood mute, anger flashing in his eyes. "Come now boy," master continued, "Don't pout! It doesn't become you. Perhaps you would rather suck my dick? But then you don't like to do that do you boy?" Each time Alexander used the word "boy" he turned it into a verbal sneer. "No sir! I don't! Carlin's words were surly and clipped. "Well what you like and don't like doesn't count for much does it?" Master's question was clearly rhetorical not requiring an answer. Verbally lashing his struggling victim he continued. "You don't seem to understand. I'm trying to be good to you. Aren't I giving you not one but two women to fuck? So, even if they are fat, and have some mileage on their pussies, they will make your prick feel good. As a bonus, I was even going to let your wife help get you ready by sucking your 'woman pleaser'." Alexander's grin was downright evil. "Tell me boy! How long has it been since your wife's mouth swallowed your prick? A very long time I would bet. You would like that tonight tho wouldn't you boy?" As he always does, Alexander had found a weak spot. Carlin's resistance disappeared. His answer was humble and pleading. "It has been a very long time Sir, going on a year I would guess, and yes I would like very much for Melissa to suck me." "Beg then! Apologize, and beg me to let your wife suck you." "Please master! I apologize for being angry and difficult. Please let Melissa suck me. It has been so long." Carlin was whimpering, almost ready to cry. Alexander pointed his finger at my sister slave and commanded, "You heard the man Melissa. On your knees and get with it, and while you're sucking him fuck yourself with your finger. And you Mary Beth, sit here on the bed between the Sheik and I. You can be stroking our cocks while we watch the show." Then turning his attention to Nancy and Alice he ordered, "You two cows lay on the floor! On your backs! Feet toward us! Spread your legs! Show us your pussies! Masturbate yourselves! Show Ali and I what horny sluts you are! The first one to get her rocks off will be first in line for a dose of the cock Melissa will make nice and hard for you." Without a word of protest from the pitiful helpless slaves we all were, each of us did as we were assigned. I sat down between the Sheik and my master and began squeezing a cock in each hand, very slowly stroking foreskins over the swollen crowns. I watched with fascination as the two society matrons spread themselves on the floor with their knees raised but spread wide apart, showing our master and the Sheik their recently shaved pussies that were already glistening with female wet. I wondered what their husbands thought of those shaved cunts? It occurred to me, however, that possibly their men used them so seldom they weren't even aware their wives were now sluts so desperate to be fucked that they would shave their cunts and hire a cock to fill them…, as if their husbands even cared. Both women were slow to play with their pussies, however. To masturbate themselves before an audience was more humiliation than they had bargained for. I could see the shame in their faces as the they lay there with their bare slits exposed, wet and shining in the bright light, each knowing what she must do but too embarrassed and guilty to begin. Alexander ended this hesitation with a snarling threat. "NOW, you fat sluts. Don't play coy with me! We all what horny adulterous bitches you are! Jack off! NOW, before I tie you tits to tits and take the hide off your fat asses with my whip." The anger in his voice left no doubt that he meant what he said. Both women quickly buried fingers in their cunts and set to work producing the orgasm their preacher pimp had ordered. As sexy as the spectacle was of Alice and Nancy on their backs frigging their pussies, Carlin and Melissa were even more so. Carlin was standing straight and tall, but with his feet slightly spread and his head thrown back staring at the ceiling. On her knees at his feet Melissa's lips were wrapped tightly around the glans of his penis. Her cheeks hollowed and dimpled with the suction of the mouth, and the middle finger of her right hand was exploring her pussy, seeking its G spot. Every minute or two she would pause her finger fuck long enough to attend the sensitive little clit that was peeking out from the top of that wet slit. Our master was pleased. "Just look it that, Ali! Is there anything hotter than a woman with a mouthful of hard male meat, and a finger in her cunt?" Then speaking to Carlin he asked, "Do you like that boy? That's pretty good isn't it? Now don't you dare cum! I'm going to French kiss your wife before I fuck her. If I taste your cum in her mouth or on her lips, I will wear your ass out with my whip. Anyway, you have of couple of fat sluts to take care of. As horny as they are, once they start to drain you, you will need the last drop of everything you have stored in your balls. You hear me boy?" "Yes sir, I understand. I won't cum, I swear." "You don't mind if I fuck your wife do you boy?" our master asked with a sneer. "No sir!" Carlin's answer was short and quick, trying to avoid the subject. It was no use! There was never any reason to think it might be. The Reverend was contemptuous of this young preacher and his on and off resistance to his servitude. He seldom missed an opportunity to make his reluctant male slave grovel, and tonight he would see to it that Carlin begged shamelessly for his master to fuck his wife. "But Boy, you must know that I'm going to do more than just fuck her. I'm going to breed her. I'm going to fill her womb with my sperm, tonight, tomorrow, and every day thereafter, until I have planted my baby there. That is all right with you isn't it boy…, I mean you do approve of me taking your wife as my mare and breeding her to carry my foal…, don't you boy? "Yes sir!" Carlin answered briefly, still trying to dodge the bullet of total capitulation. "Not good enough boy! Ask me to fuck your wife! Beg me! Plead with me to breed her. Beg me to flood her cunt with my cum until her belly swells with my seed." "Damn you!" Carlin exploded. Just as the Reverend had intended from the beginning, he had goaded and bullied until the young preacher was overcome with frustration and ready to rebel. "No sir, its not right…, not right at all!" Carlin cried out with tears in his eyes. "No matter what she lets you do to her, my wife is not an animal, or at least she wasn't before you stuck your cock in her. Until then she wasn't a mare to be bred for a prize get. Until then she was a loving and faithful wife. It was you who turned her into a whore." Of course, Carlin's denial didn't last. It couldn't! The Reverend was much too strong for him, and no one understood any better than Carlin how futile and useless his protest was. His rebellion failed as quickly as it had come, and with its collapse came the tortured young husband's pitiful capitulation to the inevitable. "But yes! She is your woman now! You have made her your slave. What can I possibly do to stop you from doing whatever you want with her? YES, fuck her! You have my permission. Breed my wife until you plant your bastard child in the bitch's adulterous womb. Why shouldn't you? You have made a slut of her, and she likes it! Yes, she's yours now, your mare, your slut, your whore…, she's all yours…, hot pussy and all. Do with her whatever you like, I don't care anymore. Her mouth feels so very good on my prick, but I hate this! I hate you! I even hate her!" "Take her mouth off me, and let me get on with what you brought me here for. You have been torturing these two poor women with guilt, but it is you, not they, who are guilty. The sin of their adultery and fornication is upon you who sold them my penis. It is to satisfy your evil lusts, not theirs, that you are making me keep the sinful contract you made. I would not do so were it not that Imustobey God's message, even when the messenger is a devil from hell. I therefore submit to this degrading slavery of myself and my wife, yet I do so not out of respect for your evil, but for the salvation of Melissa and I from eternal damnation." "As it is, so shall it be!! I will give these poor women what they have paid you for. Let me begin and be done with this dirty business." Alexander's replied reeked with sarcasm. "You my boy have been reading too much of the Old Testament. Just what I would expect from a not-yet-dry-behind-the-ears boy preacher, you spew words like a Hebrew Prophet who has wandered in from out of the desert, possibly Isaiah I think." "But I agree with you on this much! It is time to move on. Nancy just had her orgasm. That earned her the first trip on your pecker. Carlin, you go lay in that nice saddle between her knees Nancy has waiting for you. Don't fuck her yet, not 'til I tell you. While you wait, tease her pussy with that nice hard-on your wife has given you. And you, Melissa…, you come over here and talk to me while I play with your pussy." "Spread your legs a bit my pretty bitch," her master demanded as Melissa stepped between his spread knees. Hooking her pussy with a proprietary middle finger, he asked her with a smirk, "Did you hear your husband girl? He says you are mine now, and that I have his permission to fuck you. He says he doesn't care that I am going to breed you until you are pregnant with my child. He calls you a bitch, a slut, and a whore. Is that what you are Melissa? He says he hates you! What do you think of that? Are you my woman now? Are you my slut? Is he right? Tell us Milissa, who does own your pussy?" "You do master. You own me and my pussy." "And your tits? Who owns your breasts and nipples, Melissa" "You do master." And your mouth? Who owns your mouth and what does he use it for? "You do master. You use my mouth to suck your cock and swallow your cum." "Do you like to suck my cock, Milissa? Do you like the taste of my cum?" "Oh yes master! To have your cock in my mouth is wonderful, and I love the taste of our cum." "And your ass? Who owns your ass Melissa?" "You do master." "Have I taken you in your ass yet Melissa" "No master, not yet." He asked, "Do you want me to fuck your ass Melissa?" "I-I don't know master. Y-you are so big. I'm afraid that you will hurt me." "But if I should decide you should be ass fucked, you will be a good slave slut won't you? On your knees you will reach back with your hands to spread your buttocks, and then ask to be ass fucked…, won't you Melissa?" "Yes master. You own me. I will be a good slave slut. If you want, I will spread my cheeks and ask to be ass fucked." Throughout the humiliating interrogation by her master, Melissa's husband had been laying between Nancy's legs. His arms supporting his body as if ready to do a push-up, he hung suspended between the knees of the woman spread beneath him, patiently waiting for his master's command to fuck her. As if locked in a stoic trance, Carlin seemed both unaware of his wife's pathetic submission, and equally deaf to Nancy's incoherent babble begging for to be fucked. His swollen hard-on was poised menacingly over the poor woman's core, promising pleasure, yet insisting on obedience to the Reverend's order. Over and over Carlin rocked his body above the frantic twisting woman, forward, then back, then forward again, slowly dragging the tip of his dangling erection over the length of her sex, teasing that female slit, keeping it wet and ready for the insertion Nancy had purchased. Meanwhile, Alexander muttered his approval of Melissa's whining surrender, and turned her around between his knees to face her husband. Then as he reached around her to squeeze a breast he called out his instructions to Carlin. "You fuck-boy! That bitch under you is wet and ready. She wants it boy! Give it to her, NOW! Fill her cunt hard and deep! Make her scream!" Scream Nancy did as Carlin mercilessly drove home his rock hard erection. Nancy's jaw dropped with shock and pain as tissues unaccustomed to so large an intruder were abruptly stretched to their limit. Carlin took pity upon her, however. Only when Nancy's expression told him she had adjusted to having him inside her did he pull back for a second strike, and even then he paused with only the tip remaining between her pussy lips. There he waited, threatening to repeat that first thrust into her core, but waiting for her to signal that she was ready for him. She hesitated, afraid of the pain. For long seconds she delayed in fearful anticipation before her need overwhelmed her and she whispered, "Yes! Now! Fuck me! Please fuck me!" In reply, Carlin struck a second time, once more without mercy, once again wedging apart the walls of her tight hardly used pussy, filling her, stretching her, using her, making her his. This time there was no hesitation before pulling back, and no pause before he returned that hard male rod to her core…, and then again…, and again…, and again. It was on that fifth stroke that Nancy's legs lifted to wrap around his waist, and her own hips begin to return every hammering thrust. This long penis buried inside her was exactly what she had been so hungry for, and she could not resist murmuring her delight in his ear. A tiny whisper was all it was, but it was a message that did not go unheard by Melissa. As Nancy teetered on the edge of her first orgasm, my master brushed my hand away from his prick and leaned backwards on the bed until he was half prone supporting himself on his elbows. The blood filled sex pole I had been stroking now pointed obscenely upward from between his legs waiting to be swallowed up inside a female belly. In its impatience, the great flushed organ jerked ever so slightly with each throb of its owner's pulse, and in anticipation, a drop of pre-cum oozed from its tip. "Mount me Melissa!" was his instruction to his slave girl, but when she turned and started to do so facing him, Alexander objected. "No, no! The other way! Face toward your husband. I want you to watch him fuck these fat sluts…, and you Mary Beth…, you can help. Guide my cock into her hole as she sits down, and when you are finished, climb on Ali's prick the same way Melissa is riding mine." Without hesitation, Milissa turned back toward her master's feet, and threw a leg over his lap ready to straddle his crotch. She hung there expectantly for a moment over the erect male post that was waiting beneath her. I reached into our mutual master's groin, took his phallus in my hand, and after jacking it twice to be sure it was ready, I carefully started it into Melissa's wet cunt. Her hips dropped sending her slick female love tube smoothly down over its male counterpart. Once seated on that male peg, a low but very distinct moan escaped from her throat. Was that a signal of distress or of erotic pleasure? I couldn't tell. Perhaps it was a little of both, or neither…, perhaps only a sigh of resignation to the inevitable. With his slave woman astride his penis, Alexander began to gloat. "Melissa! Just look at that fat slut take your husbands cock! I think she likes it, don't you? You can bet she does. Starved for a man, that old biddy couldn't want anything better than to be hung on the end of your husband's hard prick. Look at her! She is female mush, unable to resist, all pussy, of no use other than to serve a cock!" Torments of the Widow McWorter Ch. 07-10 "Pay attention Melissa! You wouldn't want to miss seeing what hubby does best would you? That is right isn't it Milissa? You do want to watch your husband fuck that fat old cow don't you?" I doubted that was what Milissa wanted at all. Her face had been full of distress as she watched her husband crawl between Nancy's spread thighs. Her frown had grown as his hard penis split open the woman's aging pussy, and her jaw clinched once it became apparent Nancy was eager for more. Then there was Nancy's whispered testimonial of appreciation for what he was doing to her. Never the less, if Melissa was troubled to see her husband fuck another woman, she certainly adjusted quickly once she was firmly seated on her master's cock. Nor did her master give her any chance to reconsider. Taking charge he commanded. "Don't move bitch! Just squeeze me! With the muscles in your cunt, make them squeeze me! Feel that Melissa? Feel my pulse inside you? Feels good doesn't it?" The whimpering whine of her reply was one of total surrender. "Oh God YESSS! It does feel sooo good." Such is the persuasive power of a big hard cock inside a woman in heat. "Tell your husband then! Tell Carlin all about it," her sex master commanded. "Tell him how much you love having my cock inside you. Tell him how full you are. Tell him how you think about this all the time. Tell him that I own his wife." Melissa groveled in the acceptance of her servitude. Indeed, she seemed to revel in her slavery. "Oh God yes! Yes Carlin, forgive me but its true. I am so stretched, so filled, by this great prick. I do love it so. I dream about my master's penis, about having it inside me…, about sitting on it like this. May God help me, I can think about nothing else. He fucks me so masterfully, so wonderfully." "Oh dearest Carlin, I'm so very sorry and ashamed, but it's the truth, this man, our Apostle, he does own your wife. I have no choice. I am his slave to use as he will, even his to breed and carry his bastard child. Melissa's demeanor had changed so abruptly from guilty acceptance to passionate submission that I wondered if religious devotion could be the only reason for her servitude to the Reverend? Could it be that sitting astride Alexander's very special gift, it was the stretched walls of her pussy, not theological faith, that were the real trigger to her submission? Was Melissa far more addicted to the weapon between our master's legs than she would admit? Faith or raw desire, I could not tell which. Perhaps it made no difference, or maybe there is no such distinction, and never has been. Whatever the truth of its cause, Melissa's babbling oath of servitude made it clear that her husband was now only an auxiliary in her life. As Carlin had said earlier, the Reverend had "…made a slut of her, and she likes it!" It was true! His wife belonged to another man now, "…hot pussy and all." To my amazement, for the second time this evening Carlin seemed to hardly notice his wife's pathetic denial of her marriage vows. Upon reflection I suppose I shouldn't have been all that surprised. Quite obviously he was as much the Reverend's slave as his wife. Without the will to make a choice of his own, I suppose his tolerance of his wife's adultery could be expected. Perhaps, however, his aloof disinterest in his wife's whimpering acceptance of another man's penis had another explanation. Just as likely was his own momentary pleasure. On top of the older woman, at first teasing the lips of her pussy with the promise of his erection, and now riding her hard in the saddle between her spread legs, he had every reason to be distracted. Occupied with his own lust, and the pleasure of Nancy's pussy sliding over his cock, Carlin seemed deaf to his wife's pitiful babble…, or maybe he didn't even care. I had little chance to ponder that question, however. Alexander had ordered me to mount Ali, and the word of a master to his female must be obeyed, and quickly. I straddled the crotch of this Saudi Prince, and reaching between us for the royal penis waiting under me, I set its swollen crown firmly between the lips of my slit. Slowly I let my knees give way, and as I settled down into his lap, inch by inch my female channel swallowed the male instrument for which it was made. Like Melissa, I was not allowed to move on the post of swollen man flesh that held me captive, and like her, I could only sit there quietly, a prisoner of the male sword inside me. I was shamed and humbled by my helpless surrender to this stranger, but at the same time, ever so grateful to be filled with hard man flesh. "Watch Nancy closely girls," our master ordered speaking to Melissa and I. "Look at the way the fat slut is taking cock, meeting every thrust with one of her own. See the vacant look on her face…, and how her jaw sags open as she struggles for breath. Watch her fingers clench into fists, and her body shudder when her orgasms come. Listen to her whimper and moan. There's nothing quite like having a man inside you is there girls?" "How about it Nancy? Alexander asked. "Do you like that? Are you getting your money's worth?" Oh yes! OH YESSS! It's sooo good! It's SOOO G-GOOD! That was the moment Carlin emptied his balls into Nancy's pussy. The deliciously tortured woman seemed to orgasm with every spurt, but finally he was done. Once those erotic spasms had passed, Nancy's gigolo collapsed exhausted onto her breasts with his softening cock-for-hire still inside her. He lay quite still as a true lover might do, enjoying the feel of her body under his weight, and soaking his shrinking member in the liquids of her stretched and dilated vagina. One minute ticked by…, then two…, then three, before he rolled away and lay beside her breathing heavily. "All right kiddies Alexander interjected, speaking first to Carlin, "You boy, get up and step over here in front of your wife. You are only half done and once again your prick needs help from your wife's mouth. I'm sure she will love Nancy's taste on it." I doubted that, but even more humbling was his instruction to the two older women. "Alice, you take his place on top of your slut friend! Straddle her head between your thighs, then stretch out on top of her with your mouth in her crotch. Eat her sloppy cunt! Clean out all that love juice Carlin left behind…, every drop…, and you Nancy…, lick her crack. It's Alice's turn now. I want her hot, wet and ready to take Carlin's cock once he gets it up again." The two society matrons were far to horny not to obey, and in a 69 clinch with Alice on top, they licked each other's pussies with what I thought was a surprising enthusiasm for two regulars on the local society pages. Carlin stood before his wife with his knees bent, waiting as Melissa, still pegged on Alexander's cock, stooped forward reaching for her husband's used and flaccid penis that was wet with the male and female slick of recent sex. Opening her mouth wide, she tenderly laid it onto her tongue ready to prepare it for still another pussy. I thought I saw a small tear escape from the corner of her eye as she did so. I was the only woman without an assignment. Left to sit a quietly, the willing captive of Ali's delicious sex tube, my situation was becoming more and more desperate. After all, I had just watched a man and a woman have wild sex…, my own love channel was distended by an erect blood swollen penis…, Ali was licking the nape of my neck…, and his hands were reaching around my body, squeezing my breasts and pinching my nipples. God, I thought, "If only I could move on this cock and rub my clit along its length." I did need to cum so very badly. Gradually Melissa's mouth did its work, and Carlin's erection recovered. Alexander rewarded the young preacher by sending him to fuck Alice from behind. Alice had waited more or less patiently as Carlin fucked Nancy. Now, however, with her own turn on Carlin's dick was only moments away, her patience evaporated, and in her lust to be fucked any concern for her dignity was forgotten. Alice raised her hips lifting her cunt off her friend Nancy's tongue, and groveling on her hands and knees, she offered her oversized ass to the use of Carlin and his reinvigorated erection. Carlin knelt behind those ample hips, and prepared himself by lubricating his cock in Nancy's mouth that still waited under Alice's eager pussy. For long seconds he teased the kneeling society matron by rubbing his tip up and down the swollen lips of a pussy that Nancy's tongue had prepared well. Alice was ready to take cock, and the repeated touch of that probing prick at her wet and slick cunt was more than a desperate and frustrated woman could stand. With a whimpering moan, she shoved her body backward, and pinned her hungry sex on the end of the masculine shaft she needed so badly. Reacting to her effort, the huge tits that dangled free beneath her trembled, and then swayed sensually. In a single answering thrust Carlin finished the job. Alice shrieked in greedy appreciation as he buried himself inside her cunt sheath all the way to his balls. In the next moment, however, her head turned toward the bed to face the staring eyes of her audience. Her expression flattened from excitement into one of humiliation as she realized how she must look to us…, a sex crazed aging slut taking cock. In her shame, she dropped her head behind her arms, and hid her face under the long bleached blond tresses that hung from her forehead to the floor. As humbling as I'm sure it was for Alice to be animal fucked with us watching, she could not have had any idea of what a truly servile picture she made. Each time Carlin's cock withdrew from deep inside her pussy, she would try to follow causing the bags of her big tits to swing forward. Then, as that blood filled piston reversed direction to thrust again into her core, those hanging tits would change direction with an abrupt obscene kick. Over and over her dangling breasts bounced forward, then back, then forward again, swaying to the rhythmic beat of the prick that was hammering her pussy. In Alexander's cruel way, however, it was not enough for this poor woman to be fucked like a dog bitch in heat before an audience. Nancy was still laying under Alice with her head directly beneath Alice's pussy and that thrusting cock. Alexander sent Carter to stack pillows under Nancy's shoulders and neck until her mouth could reach the vital junction between Carlin's long hard penis and Alice's stretched pussy. "Lick it you fat bitch." Alexander insisted, giving Nancy no choice. Tentatively, her tongue reached out, caressing Alice's clit, and then stronger and more willingly, licking the underside of that masculine phallus as it passed by. "Again! More!" Alexander insisted of Nancy. "Lick them both, slut. Make her feel that tongue! On her clit bitch! On her clit! And him too! Every time he fucks her, clean his shaft!" Her naked body was in full blush, but Nancy did as she was told even though a trail of mucus dripped down across her lips and mouth with each stroke of Carlin's cock in and out of the well fucked pussy hanging over her face. Still not satisfied with the humiliation he had heaped upon the two society ladies, Alexander demanded yet more. Alice was in mid orgasm when he ordered her, "Off your hands Alice! Lay your breasts on her belly! While he fucks you…, drop your head between Nancy's thighs. Show us what a slut you are! Eat her cunt! Lick her clit! Make your buddy cum!" Through it all, Melissa's husband never missed a stroke with his pussy satisfying weapon, and despite her shame, or perhaps because of it, Alice dissolved into full estrus. Uncontrollable spasms inside her pussy sent electrical shocks into her ovaries, and then upward through her belly and chest to her nipples. Once, twice, three times, she shuddered and convulsed with orgasms, yet she never hesitated in the furious tongue fucking of Nancy's slit that sent her friend into matching climaxes. When it was at last over, and Carlin's two "clients" had enjoyed their final climax, Alexander called the three of them to stand at attention before him. Reaching under Melissa's arms he idly played with her defenseless nipples as he addressed the two banker's wives. "Tell me Nancy! Tell me Alice! Are you two ashamed of being such adulterous sluts?" The two women stared guiltily at the floor as they mumbled in more or less in a whispering unison. "Er…, y-yes sir." "But you have enjoyed yourselves? Did Carlin adequately demonstrate my appreciation for your generous contribution to my ministry?" Alexander asked. Nancy managed to cough out another indistinct "y-yes Sir", but Alice was so smitten she could only giggle guiltily as she nodded her head. "I know I have embarrassed you tonight by insisting Carlin fuck you while Ali, I, and these two choir sluts, watched, but it was important that you show the depth of your passion and need. You have passed my every test, and you should not feel guilty for taking your pleasure on Carlin's cock in front of witnesses. Although you of course are, and will remain, adulterous sluts, I find your need to be fucked genuine and sincere, and hence pure of heart. In the name of Jesus I grant you dispensation and forgiveness for your sin." "The only guilty one here is Melissa's husband, not because he has fucked you in front of his wife, but because he resisted me, an Apostle of the Lord. I can absolve him his adultery as I do for you and his wife, but he lied when he said he didn't care that I was fucking Melissa, and he lied again when he denied lusting after your bodies. Whoever resists me with lies is not pure of heart, and their sins are beyond my power to forgive." "I therefore now turn this unforgiven sinner over to you. Enjoy him for the rest of the evening, but along with your pleasure it shall be your duty to cleanse him by inflicting a painful penitence upon him. In the top drawer of that dresser in the corner you will find handcuffs, leg shackles, lengths of rope, strap-on dildos, and a cat-o-nine-tails whip. Equip yourselves to make him suffer that he might earn the forgiveness of one mightier than I." "Tie him face up and spread eagle on the bed. When he is helpless, take your pleasure with his cock as often as he can perform. When he goes limp and is of no use anymore, you are to punish him for his failure. Whip him across his belly and useless prick until he is screaming and begs for your mercy. Then turn him over and use those strap-on dildos to fuck him in the ass." "And you young man," the Reverend said turning at to address Carlin, "You must learn to be more obedient. I trust these ladies will improve your deportment with punishment that befits a disobedient cock slave. However, you can take solace that while you are suffering your wife is being well taken care of. Ali and I will make sure that her sweet hot pussy is well filled and well satisfied. In fact I'm sure if you listen closely, you will hear her beg us to fuck her." The color drained from Carlin's face, and the Reverend noticed as he continued. "Yes, you heard me correctly! Ali and I will swap she and Mary Beth back and forth this evening, Alternately he and I will drench your wife's ovaries with our cum. Wouldn't it be too bad if it was Ali's seed rather than mine that planted a baby in her belly? But if that is God's will…" Alexander let his voice trail off into a tantalizing silence that left hanging in the wind the possibility that rather than God's Apostle, this renegade Arab might father Melissa's bastard child. "No, please, NO!" Carlin protested. "It is enough that you should breed her. Not another man … PLEASE, not another man." "Perhaps you're right," Alexander conceded. "Perhaps Ali will be a good guy and fuck her only in the ass. How would that be boy? Would it solve your problem if Ali was to stretch her little virgin ass hole open and dump his load there instead of in her pussy?" Carlin could only drop his head in despair. He understood it was no use protesting further. The rest of his evening was already going to be painful enough. Ignoring his victim's obvious distress, Alexander was already giving final instructions to the two women who were to whip him and violate his rectum after pleasuring themselves on his mouth and penis. "Now ladies, attach a leash to the collar of your worthless male slave, and take him into the bedroom that adjoins this one, but please leave the door open that his wife and I might listen as he pleasures your pussies, and later on, the suffering of his penitence. Anyway, as I said, he will probably be able to perform better for you if he hears his wife being so well fucked by Ali and I." Melissa didn't appear to me to be particularly upset about her husband's unpleasant fate, but she turned white as a sheet when she heard that Ali as well as her master would use her. She had always been her master's favorite. Until now he had occasionally allowed other men to use her mouth, but never her pussy, and the virginity of her ass had not been taken even by her master. For tonight at least, however, it seemed that her sexual favors were going to be enjoyed by a stranger as if she was now just another slave woman of his choir. To be used on the penis of this Arab overwhelmed her with a mixture of anger and fear, and from the jealousy and hatred in the look she gave me, it was plain she blamed me for this fall from grace as our master's protected and untouchable pet. Altho I'm sure master read her expression quite as clearly as I, Milissa's discomfort was of no concern to him. As Alice and Nancy led Carlin away into the adjoining bedroom, our master turned his attention to the two of us. "Well girls, Alexander asked, "Are you two ready to reward these cocks you have been enjoying in your pussies?" Was I ready? I was beside myself! I was so damned eager, and despite her fit of jealousy, surely Melissa was too. Our pussies had been filled with male meat for a long time. Can you imagine what torture it is to sit pegged on a cock, but not allowed to move, while the man behind you plays with your tits, and runs his tongue up your spine. "Oh yes Sir," I answered for both of us. Please Sirs, Melissa and I need to be fucked, fucked until your hot cum spurts deep in our pussies. Please fuck us and let us orgasm. It drives a girl crazy to sit a cock like this." "Very well then slut, you may take a ride on our cocks, but you must not cum until the shaft inside you does." "But master," I protested. "We can't move for you properly! Look at us! Impaled as we are on your laps, our feet don't reach the floor. We can't lift ourselves to slide our pussies up and down over your cocks. Please! Roll us over onto your bed and onto our backs. Spread our legs and take us! Ride our cunts! Fuck us hard and deep! I beg you both." "Sounds fair enough to me. What do you think Ali?" Alexander asked his Arab friend. "Shall we accommodate these sluts?" Ali was already on the move. He lifted me like a sack of potatoes and threw me on my back. My stretched pussy lost his cock for a moment, but I quickly found it with my hand and stuffed its crown back between my pussy lips. My hole was still slick and dilated as he landed between my thighs, and his dick slid smoothly down my love chute once again. I heard Melissa squeal as our master did much the same to her. Our men made us beg for it of course, but they fucked us both most deliciously. I came three times, and Melissa as least as often. I knew because all the time her master was pounding her overheated cunt, she babbled about how good it was, documenting her every orgasm to the world. I wondered what her husband in the other room thought as he listened to his wife beg for another man's cock, and then take such pleasure from being stuck with it?