Chapter 10
Angela was revived when Betsy opened an iced bottle of Pepsi and spilled it all over her, obliging her to hurry into the shower before returning for the rest of the "penance." Her father and the priest commanded her to make up with Betsy. To Angela's shame, she learned that what they had in mind was an act which the French called "soixante-neuf." Betsy, giggling, translating for her.
"It's sixty-nine, Anglie, 'cause when we fit together, we sort of form that figure. I'll show you. You just lie down on your side ... there now, I'll do the same in reverse ... now you suck and lick my pussy, and I'll do the same for yours! That's what sixty-nining is, honey."
The naked brunette was reluctant to perform so shameful an act in the presence of the still naked priest. Her father pulled his belt out of his pants and applied two or three stinging smacks of the black leather over the sobbing girl's bottom and thighs till she expressed an eagerness to obey. Both men avidly watched as the two naked girls began the exquisite lesbian ritual of mutual cunnilingus. Angela was obliged to continue till she had truly "made up" with her best friend by bringing the latter to an overpowering orgasm. Betsy, in turn, requited her in somewhat longer time with her own seething spend.
Before the afternoon ended, however, Angela was compelled to perform a final penance, and this with her father-confessor. For while Fred Carruthers lay down on Betsy's bed and had the sexy young redhead first suck his prick back to readiness, then impale herself over his upright organ, Father Edmund instructed Angela to suck him off and to swallow all his manly seed as he lay on his back beside her father, pillowing his head in his hands and enjoying the view of Angela's dangling firm titties and the scarlet, shamed lovely face that humbly and salaciously performed the ritual of obeisance ...
Fred Carruthers had led his fearful, meekly subdued young daughter home to have supper with Father Edmund and the girl's mother. En route, he told her in no uncertain terms that from now on she was to submit herself without argument or discussion whenever any of the three of them wished to enjoy her favors. Betsy, too, would be included in the secret little menage. Indeed, she would help instruct Angela in some of the more complicated sophistries of sexual byplay which, as Fred Carruthers pompously explained, "you'll find lots of fun for yourself, Angela dear, and you'll be able to please us all that much more. Now if you're a very good girl, I'll buy you some nice red satin pajamas, which will make you even sexier-looking than your cute girlfriend."
Over the supper table, Angela was obliged to listen to more sermonizing by both the priest and her parents, and listened silently, putting in a "yes, Father" or "Yes, Mommy" when an answer seemed obligatory. To her great relief, the priest took his leave shortly after supper, and no more demands were made on the lovely brunette's overwhelmed emotions. After all, as Mary Carruthers gently pointed out, the next day was school and dear Angela would need a good night's sleep.
The week after Easter vacation had been a hectic one for the slim raven-haired girl. The sisters had, it appeared, been more vigilant than was their wont and every day obliged her to stand up and recite the lesson or to answer oral questions about the subjects taught at the particular session. Fortunately, she managed to give passable account of herself and so escaped demerits or a crack over the knuckles with the punitive ruler, every sister kept for unruly or slack pupils.
On Friday night, Father Edmund came over for supper, and, after an hour spent chatting in the living room with Mary and Fred Carruthers, smilingly beckoned to the blushing brunette to follow him into her mother's bedroom. Once inside, he said gently, "Now, my daughter, I wish to see if you've profited from your penances of last week. Kneel down, take up my robe and oblige me with your sweet dutiful mouth."
She turned scarlet but did not dare to disobey. Slowly she knelt down as he approached her. Her soft little hands tugged up his robe, to discover that he wore only boxer shorts beneath.
"Lower them, my daughter," he murmured, putting his hand on her head by way of benediction.
Angela hastily obeyed, and his massively erect prick thrust boldly out at her trembling lips, which, after a moment's blushing hesitation, she began to apply at his explicit instructions. Soon she found that he wished her to rasp her tongue over every cranny of his bulging cock, especially his balls, before taking as much of it as she could into her soft mouth and swallowing down his violent ejaculation of viscous spunk.
When it was over, he readjusted shorts and robe, patted her head and commended her for her obedience and humility, and then went back to take his leave of her parents.
A few moments later, Mary and Fred Carruthers entered the bedroom and smilingly praised her newly acquired meek obedience.
"If you're a very good girl, dear," Mary purred, "this summer vacation, we might just all of us, including dear Father Edmund and your chum Betsy, take a little cabin in the Wisconsin woods and get to know one another better. As for me, I'm just dying to see what Betsy's like in bed."
Angela made no reply to this, only bit her lips and waited for the rest. Sure enough, she was now obliged to suck her mother's cunt to prepare her for her father's conjugal embrace, and to kneel on the bed beside them and hold her mother's hand while Mary writhed and groaned and wriggled under Fred Carruthers' energetic prick-thrusting ...
On Saturday morning, the anniversary of the first week after her loss of maidenhood, Angela was eating breakfast, her father and mother having both gone to the supermarket. Father Edmund would be there for Sunday dinner, which would be a standing roast of beef. The pretty brunette read the comics, then idly flipped the pages of the first section till suddenly her eyes fell on a note near the bottom of the page:
"DIOCESE BISHOP VISITS
Bishop Arthur Manning, after his sabbatical, will visit his diocese and its numerous parishes beginning next Monday, the ecclesiastic's press secretary John Benton revealed to our Courier reporter today."
Angela's lovely eyes widened, then she gasped. She tore the column out of the newspaper and hurried back to her room to hide it under a pile of freshly ironed handkerchiefs. Surely this meant her salvation. For if the bishop, the head of the diocese in which Father Edmund was ordained priest at the church and at the school, were to visit there and she were to tell him what was being done to her, the least the bishop would do would be to reprimand Father Edmund for committing the very sins of the flesh he had so angrily sermonized against!
"You've been remarkably quiet, my child," Father Edmund gave her a kindly smile. "Now, now! Your parents and I don't mean to quash your naturally gay spirit, not in the least. After all, you're a grown young lady, Angela, and you may certainly take part in our family discussions just as you do in other even more pleasant affairs."
"Speak up, darling. Father's talking to you," Mary Carruthers purred. "Isn't she lovely in her white dress, Father? Fred is going to buy her some red satin pajamas and a black nylon shortie nightie and some other very pretty undies if she continues to be so well behaved."
"I-I was just thinking, Father," Angela at last spoke up, and she looked boldly at the smiling priest.
"Very good, my daughter. And what were you thinking?"
"Oh, just about what Bishop Manning would say when I go to confess to him all about the awful things I've had to do. I was punished good and hard for the first ones, but I haven't confessed the others, and I think I ought to."
Fred Carruthers dropped his fork with a clatter onto the Wedgewood serving plate. Mary Carruthers gasped and turned a fiery red, coughed and then grabbed her napkin to suppress the flurry. As for Father Edmund, his mouth gaped, then his face turned as red as Mary's.
"But, my child, there's no need to ask a bishop to hear your confession. I am empowered to do that as your parish priest, Angela my child," he at last rejoined.
Angela shrugged her lovely shoulders.
"Well, I phoned the bishop's hotel this afternoon, Father, and I talked to his secretary, I guess that's who it was, and I'll see Bishop Manning Tuesday morning, at your church."
"Now, Angie dearest, you wouldn't want to do a dreadful thing like that," Mary Carruthers' voice was trembling and faint.
She looked helplessly at Fred, who shook his head and stared down at his untouched roast beef.
"Oh, but I have to, mummy," Angela purred. "You and Daddy brought me up to be a devout child and to go to church every Sunday and make my confession about my sins, and I want them all to be forgiven."
"Er - arrhumph," Father Edmund had cleared his throat and was working at his collar, which suddenly seemed to be painfully tight. "My child, I assure you there's no need for that. I myself, right now after dinner, will give you absolution."
Angela shook her head till her curls danced. Her mother had had her affect a new hair style, very sophisticated one, yet retaining a piquant child look all the same: a thick sheaf at the back down to her shoulderblades with the curls turned under, and a row of tiny spitcurls all along the top of her high-arching pure forehead.
"But a bishop is higher in the church than a priest, isn't he, Father?" she naively asked.
"Of course, my daughter, but I've already said - "
"I think I'd rather confess to him, then, Father, if it's all the same to you," Angela rather rudely interrupted, in a cold unrecognizable voice that made her parents simultaneously gasp with horror and exchange another look of consternation.
"I beg of you, child, don't do this - " again Father Edmund stammered hoarsely, then looked over at Fred and Mary as if for moral support.
"I think if I do confess, Father," once again the brunette interrupted, giving him a long cold stare, "they'll kick you out of the church. Why, maybe the bishop will even send me to a foster home where I won't have to do what everybody tells me to. I sort of think I might like that - for a change."
"Now, Angela, don't let's be hasty, darling, I-I - well, I'm sure we can work this out between us. After all, we're all grownup, sensible people, dear," her mother anxiously interposed.
"If I don't confess to Bishop Manning, Mommy, all of you - and Betsy too - will have to do what I want from now on. Otherwise, I'll just go there Tuesday and tell him about everything. How Daddy goes to church and gives money, but sneaks over and does things with Betsy. And you, Mummy, how you invite Father Edmund here and take him into your bedroom and - "
"That's enough, Angela darling - please," Mary Carruthers groaned. "Oh, God, Fred, we can't let her do that, you know we can't."
"No, that's true, my children," Father Edmund had taken out a large white handkerchief and was industriously mopping his perspiring forehead. "So, my daughter, what do you ask in return for your silence before His Holiness ?"
"I'll call up and tell him that I made a mistake, or maybe I'll just go see him and ask him to bless me, that's all. Yes, that would be all right - he might get suspicious if I didn't show up at all," Angela leaned back in her chair, slowly staring at all three of her adult disciplinarians. "Yes, so I'll just get him to bless me. But from now on, I'm going to tell you and Betsy what I want to do, and you'll all do it or else! I hope I'm very clear on that point, Mummy - Daddy? And you. Father?"
Again the trio of adult conspirators exchanged a despairing look, and all slowly nodded, fixing the charming young brunette teenager with an imploring and questioning stare.
"Very well, then. First off, I want us to go to Betsy's house. She's got punishment coming, and lots of it for snitching on me, and for playing around with Daddy behind my back. Mommy, did you know all about her?"
Mary Carruthers bowed her head, but the telltale flaming blush on her pink cheeks was answer enough.
"Uh huh. I thought so. Well, then, Mommy, you've got punishment coming too - specially 'cause you whacked my poor heinie awfully hard with that darned old leather sole and all for nothing, since you knew what Father Edmund here had just done to me. Bring the sole along, we'll go see Betsy right now."
"But we haven't finished dinner, dear," Mary Carruthers tried to placate her amazingly transformed brunette daughter.
"Stick it in the oven. It'll keep till we get back. Come on, all of you!" Angela grinned.
And so, a few minutes later, the four of them were at Betsy's front door, Angela herself ringing the bell insistently till at last the redhead answered, sulky-faced, clad in her green satin pajamas and sandals, holding a movie magazine and smoking a cigarette.
"Hey, what gives?" Betsy gasped, stepping back to let them in. "Father, I thought you were coming over tomorrow night - "
"Be quiet, my daughter," he snapped at her. "Just do as you're told. Well, Angela, my dear, what are your orders now?"
"Daddy," Angela turned to her father once they were inside the house, "I want you to give Betsy a bare-ass spanking with Mommy's leather slipper. Good and hard, till she cries, only don't let her off till you're sure she's had a good licking."
"Now wait a minute, Angie. Who're you to - ohhhh - stop it - ouch. Hey, cut it out - oh please, Mr. Carruthers, I didn't do anythingoww - "
Fred Carruthers had seized the leather sole from his wife's numbed hand, taken Betsy by an earlobe with the other and was whacking at her shapely ripe round bottom through the clinging, thin, green satin pajama pants as he marched her into her bedroom.
Then, as Angela waited to bring up the rear by letting her mother and Father Edmund enter ahead of her, she called, "I said, on the bare ass, Daddy."
"Er - yes, my dear, as you say," Fred Carruthers nervously agreed.
Seating himself on the edge of the bed and hauling the squealing redhead over his lap, he proceeded to yank down her pajama pants.
Betsy, frantic and terrified by this unexpected turn of events, rushed both hands back to prevent this catastrophe. Angela made a sign to her mother. Mary Carruthers swiftly seized Betsy's wrists and pinned them back while Fred completed yanking off the offending garment and laying Betsy's creamy bottom shrinkingly and vulnerably bare.
Circling her waist with her left arm, he raised the leather sole and began to apply it with vehement energy, first on the left cheek, then the right, starting at the tops of her ripe young naked hips and working down to the tops of her wriggling thighs. When Betsy began to shriek feverishly and kick and thresh, he paused, shifted her over his lap to his left knee, then clamped his right leg over her calves and resumed the spanking. After some fifty hard swats, Betsy's bottom was even redder than her hair and she was weeping bitterly and promising incoherently to do anything in the world.
"Go stand in the corner with your bottom to us, and frig yourself, Bets," was Angela's next crisp command.
When her sobbing chum hesitated and looked timidly over to the priest for reprieve, Angela snapped, "Maybe you'd like the Father to give you a second dose of just as many swats, hm, Bets?"
The redhead uttered a piercing cry of fright and scrambled into the corner, where she began to tickle her pussy with a trembling forefinger, sobbing all the while as if her heart would break.
"Now then, Father Edmund," Angela fixed him with a mocking smile, "I want you to punish Mommy exactly the same way. Mommy, take off all your clothes except your stockings and belt, and be quick about it."
"Oh, Fred - " Mary Carruthers groaned, ruefully rubbing her spacious posterior in understandable apprehension.
"Do what she says, Mary, or I'll spank you myself when Father gets done with you," was her husband's irritable answer.
Tears began to glisten in her blue eyes as buxom blonde Mary Carruthers slowly removed her dress and slip, then - not without another plaintive sob and appealing look back at her taciturn husband - reluctantly unfastened the tabs of her pantie-girdle. She tugged it down and stepped out of it while the priest, his face red and his penis already visibly thrusting against his robe, sat on the edge of the bed and took the proffered leather sole from Mary's husband.
"Get over his lap fast, Mommy!" Angela insisted gleefully.
When her mother had assumed the contrite pose for juvenile chastisement, Angela herself moved to the bed, sat down to the left of the priest and reached for her mother's hands.
"I'll hold them so you won't cover up your big heinie, Mommy," she offered.
It wasn't long before mature Mary Carruthers was squealing and sobbing and imploring Father Edmund to stop, even announcing hysterically she would do just anything if he would only stop that dreadful spanking. But Angela shook her head to all such frantic appeals till at last sixty spanks had been inflicted over the jerking, weaving, angrily swollen round hemispheres of her mother's naked posterior. Then she ordered: "All right, Mommy, now I want you and Betsy both to do a sixty-nine. Betsy taught it to me, but not too good, and I want to see you both show me how it should be done! Betsy, get back to bed, or I'll have Daddy spank you all over again!"
She watched as her mother and the naked teenaged redhead moved together in reverse, Mary applying her lips and tongue to Betsy's cunt. The teenager, still sniffling from the hard spanking, licked Angela's mother. The brunette began to take off her dress and petticoat now, standing in bra and panties, hose and pumps, and insisted, "You both have to do it till you both come, or you get more spanks."
Angela gleefully watched them both groan and weave and wiggle and kick in the throes of orgasm. Going to the night table drawer and opening it and taking out both the vibrator and the dildo, as well as Betsy's pack of Pall Malls, ordered, "Betsy is to be double-holed by Daddy and Father Edmund right now."
"Oh noooo, please, Angie. Noooo !" Betsy wailed.
But the two men were frenzied with lust at all they had seen and done. Betsy's appeal was not even answered as they both seized her, standing her up near the bed. Fred Carruthers and the priest stripped naked at Angela's order and then, as Father Edmund buggered Betsy, his hands squeezing her panting round titties, Fred Carruthers fucked the sobbing naked girl, his hands pinching and kneading the swollen red flesh of her voluptuous bare behind till they both achieved fiery climax inside her quaking channels.
"On the bed, on your back, Mommy dear," Angela now purred as she strapped Betsy's dildo round her agile hips.
Mary gasped, turned red as a beet, but hastened to obey. Apprehensively she spread her thighs at her daughter's sibilant command, then hid her scarlet face in her hands as Angela, with one hand opened the lips of her fleshy vulva, steadied her artificial prick with the other to guide it into her mother's quivering vaginal sheath and began to fuck her as vigorously as ever Betsy had done to her with that convenient instrument.
So energetically did Angela pursue the enjoyable new game that before long her mother was wriggling and groaning and calling out in the throes of orgasm, then sagged and lay panting and inert as Angela pulled out the weapon of vengeance.
"Now, both you, Daddy and you, Father, lie on the bed side by side on your tummies," Angela commanded. And when they obeyed, she drew her father's black belt out of his pants and began to lash their bottoms. A hard lash for her father's, a harder one still for Father Edmund's, till at last before the tireless energy of her strong young right arm, both men wept and sobbed and pleaded like naughty children undergoing parental discipline.
"Now," Angela purred as she slipped down her panties and stepped out of them, "you naughty boys can just come down here and crawl on your knees and take care of me."
Groaning and rubbing their wealed behinds, but their pricks in fierce erection, Father Edmund and Fred Carruthers sheepishly knelt down and crawled to the voluptuous lithe young half-nude brunette.
"Daddy, I want you to suck and lick my pussy till I come. You, Father, get behind me, open my butt, and lick my bummy hole and say you're sorry to it for what you did to it in the sacristy, and you better do it nice - or else I'll have to tell Bishop Manning after all!"
With a groan of shame, the priest slowly parted Angela's bottom ovals to disclose the rosy rosette of her dainty asshole. Conquering his revulsion, he applied his tongue-tip to that furtive niche ... even as her father, still sniffling from the belting, began to tongue and suck her tasty cunt.
"Now, Mummy," Angela called huskily, "you said you wanted to try Betsy in bed, so why don't you put on that dildo thing and fuck her good and hard while I'm having fun?"
And as she wriggled and sighed in ecstasy under the tonguings both her new male slaves inflicted, Angela watched with humid, eager eyes the payment deferred visited on treacherous red-haired Betsy as Mary Carruthers, wielding the dildo as a man, pinching Betsy's titties and bottom as indeed a man might in the embrace of fucking, thrust back and forth with the dildo till Betsy writhed and sobbed and finally attained expiring come ...
"All right now, let's go back home and finish dinner," Angela called gayly as she put her clothes back on. "Oh, one last thing I forgot to mention - Father Edmund, when I go to confession next Saturday, you're to come into the booth and kneel down and hear me while you work on my pussy this time, understand? I'll go keep my appointment with the bishop Tuesday, and I'll ask him for his address so I can write him and tell him all the news of the parish. Of course, if you all behave real nice, this can be my little secret from him, can't it?"
She smiled as each of them in turn nodded dolefully. It would be fun, Angela thought to herself, to have at last a secret of her very, very own!