Untouched though she was, 14 year old Becca Miller had very sophisticated sexual desires. Her fantasy life was as rich and adventurous as her actual life was chaste and restricted. Two factors contributed to her powerfully erotic cravings. One was access to the internet, specifically the computer she often made use of at the Vicarage where she performed housekeeping duties at the weekend for extra money. She stumbled upon sites saved in the favourites folder that were dark and sexual and profane, and Becca quickly found herself addicted.
Equally compelling, the other contributing factor to her growing delinquency of mind was the Vicar, himself. Becca often found herself staring, almost mesmerized by the strange light she could almost but not quite discern in the Vicar’s very unusual eyes. The sound of his voice during his sermons simply became a roaring in her ears, and somehow she always found herself shamefully aroused, her cunt wet and throbbing. There were times when he seemed to look directly at her, inside of her. And when she was aroused, his eyes seemed to leap with hidden flames.
Today as she pretended to dust the monitor, her hand reached for the mouse as though it had a mind of its own. The images springing to life were colourful, nearly three dimensional and raw; her nipples tightened painfully, rubbing against the fabric of her little white bra as though it were made not of soft pretty lace, but sandpaper.
Cocks, two to be precise, slapped a girl’s cheeks; One on the left of her distressed and tearful face, one on the right. Becca’s open youthful face drew closer to the monitor in order to see more clearly as her heart sped up its manic beating. Without thought, her left hand had found it’s way to the moist tender nub of flesh tucked between her labia. Her clit was distended and swollen, her fingers having no trouble finding their deft way to the center of her sensual universe.
Her vision became myopic, narrowly focused as all the rest of the world receded. Only the sounds and images on the screen inches from her face mattered. Gone was the feather duster, fallen from fingers palsied by lust. Gone was the barking of the butcher’s dog, gone the ringing of the phone and the sound of the answering machine picking up in the next room. Her mind was so keenly and intently focused on the scenes of ravishment playing out before her lust glazed eyes that she failed to hear the Vicar’s voice informing her that he would be home in twenty minutes and would appreciate it if she warmed his midday meal and had it waiting.
“Open your mouth, slut!” The guttural, husky voice issuing from the computer’s speakers demanded and the delicate pink lips occupying the entire monitor opened, a pink tongue darting out like a small, wanton animal. A thick veinous cock probed at that pouting mouth, slicked itself against those accommodating lips, slid aggressively within the humid warmth, plumbed the virgin depths. Becca was hoarse with panting, her own lips as dry as her cunt was wet. She squirmed, unbuttoning her girlish white blouse.
Head thrown back now in wanton abandon, the girl sprawled on the padded office chair, the wheels rolling several inches in one direction, then several in another as Becca writhed in utter base sensual need. The woman on the screen squealed as her hair was gathered into a brutish fist, pulling her head back, exposing her vulnerable neck to the teeth of the second man. Becca herself suppressed a scream as the second man bit and sucked with bestial hunger. Hunger to match her own growing appetite.
A dog’s collar was placed around the woman’s neck, Becca feeling the leather on her own virginal flesh. A lead was snapped onto the collar and pulled taut, Becca gasping as though it was her airway, and not the actress on the computer which was brutally constricted. “Kneel whore.” Her knees grew weak as the woman knelt, the two rampant cocks coming into view once more. Becca wanted to see more. She needed to see more. To feel more. Her anus contracted as one of the men growled, “I’m going to fuck Your ass!”
Becca could almost physically feel the sensations depicted upon the screen in front of her lust dazzled eyes. The slapping of a work roughened hand upon the firm, full flesh of a womanly ass. The bum quivering and growing red with the impact of each well placed slap. Yes, her mind screamed. She wanted this too! This hard handling and rough speech. She anted the collar around her own young slender neck. Her whole being screamed for a Dominant man to TAKE her.
Suddenly, and without warming, her entire world tilted on its axis. Fantasy and reality collided with the piercing pain of a rough hands on her body. A harsh voice chastising her. “Awwww!” she screamed as cruel fingers pinched her nipple and a hand wound in her long dark hair, pulling her head back in imitation of what she had so recently been watching upon the computer screen. “Is this what I pay you for Miss Miller?”
With no warning, she was upended and face down over an unyielding set of thighs, thighs like iron and as hard as the voice of the Vicar which now told her, “So, Miss Miller, you like it rough do you?” Pain blossomed on her upturned bottom as one then two then five more slaps connected with that previously untouched young body. The Vicar was terrible in his wrath, punishing the young girl without mercy. The slap of flesh on flesh as his hand spanked her nubile young bottom gave way to the deeper bite of a strap marking the pristine white flesh for the first time.
“So. This is how you repay me for my kindness in affording you income? Are you a slut Miss Miller?” The strap bit deep and Becca cried out breathlessly. “Are you a whore?” Five more times the strap fell upon that resilient flesh, and five times Becca barked out in startled agony. Finally finding a wheezing remnant of her voice, Becca replied, “No, Vicar, please!” The strap immediately fell again; even harder than before if that was possible.
“I said, Are you a whore.” The words sounded more like a statement than a question to Becca’s distressed and confused mind. “No!” Becca cried, but the strap convinced her otherwise as it feel with determined intent. “You’re cunt is glistening,” The Vicar’s voice sounded strained as one of his large fingers slid through the tell tale wetness of Becca’s youthful and aroused bunt, bisecting the halves of her outrageously aroused labia and probing, pushing, thrusting deep inside her untried sheath.
With a lightning fast flick of his wrist, the Vicar used Becca’s hair to maneuver her to her knees. “On your knees before me slut.” This frightening turn of events had Becca crying in earnest now. More than anything, Becca liked to please, thrived on praise and approval. To be so castigated in the eyes of her Vicar was her undoing. Sobbing now, Becca pleaded for leniency, for understanding, for a reprieve from the violence and pain of this harsh punishment. Her cunt flooded with a new wave of moisture, putting paid to her outcry of injustice.
“Is this how you spend your time in my home?” The Vicar’s voice sounded distorted with rage, and only did Becca’s mind begin to return from the anesthetizing influence of the BDSM pornography she’d been imbibing. Becca heard, before she felt, the sound of her blouse being ripped as the Vicar brutally tore the thin cotton garment open, buttons flying onto the floor. Her tears were real, yet her body betrayed her sense of outrage, her nipples continuing to tighten and grow painfully y erect, her cunt swelling and flooding with a new wave of moisture. Her shame grew just as her arousal increased.
“So, you like the dark side of sexuality, do you?” Becca wasn’t even certain what exactly he meant, only that she was ashamed of herself and that her body wanted more, ever more. His hand connected now with her tear stained cheek. “Answer me slut.” Becca’s confusion of sensation and experience only grew more profound, and her answer was a bewilderment of words falling like guilty gun shots,
“No!. Oh, yes, no no no no!” She had no idea any more what she’d been asked, only that she was indeed, imminently, tremendously, monumentally guilty. “Please Vicar, please!” His left hand gentled briefly as he stroked tears away from her guilty eyes. His right hand, however, held tightly, painfully, possessively to hear long dark hair. “Slut, you’re stealing from me, stealing as you take your pay each week, knowing you have not earned it.” Becca began to cry; crocodile tears running down her cheeks as her shame was outlined for her.
Just as she thought her shame would come home to roost in utter ignominy, her parents being informed of her baseness and ugly sexual need, her classmates learning of her shame through the neighborhood grapevine, the Vicar’s voice suddenly gentled, just as his hands began to soothe and stroke and caress. “Shhh, shhh, baby girl don’t cry.” Becca was so grateful to hear that crooning note in the Vicar’s voice that she collapsed both mentally and emotionally as well as physically into his enfolding arms.
Becca didn’t even mind that the Vicar’s fingers were tweaking her nipples, encouraging further arousal from that young and susceptible body. She didn’t even object when one then two fingers probed deep, deep, deeply into the virgin depths of her oh so wet cunt. “Now then Becca, we shall forget this mistake, won’t we?” The Vicars lips were tender and sweet as they kissed her eyes, kissed the tears away. His hands stroking her bottom, adjusting her body so she now sat upon his lap, cradled in his arms
“Would you like to be my special girl Becca?” She thought she was mishearing this golden opportunity to know reprieve. She thought she must be imagining the crooning sweetness of that deep melodious voice. As his hands undressed her, laying bare the curves of her sweet young body, Becca dared to peek from beneath her long dark lashes and whisper, “Yes, please, Vicar.” When his cock was offered for her to taste, to touch, to explore, Becca took to it like a duck to water, like a guilty young girl to the lifeline offered her. Like the slut she was born to be. Her lips opened, just as did her hungry cunt.
And oh, the pleasures they were destined to share! The sweet rich pleasures of darkness and debauchery and rich tender delight!
