Chapter 4
Even before the door has slammed behind Joe Hartley, Cotton Salter had already turned to go back to his basement. He couldn't bear being away from the girl. His prick was stiffening again and now he felt pangs of frustration from his first failure with the girl. He had been too eager. He knew that. Only, when he had seen her chained to the wall, so helpless and weak, he had not been able to control himself. He knew he had business to attend to and that the ladies would be calling all afternoon about the cake sale, but he couldn't help it. He had to get back to her. Locking the door to his office, he headed for the small entrance to the cellar of the church. He stopped by the rectory only long enough to find another bottle. With the bottle under his jacket, he unlocked the cellar door. For a moment he had a horrible thought that she might have escaped. He quickly locked the door behind him and hurried down the dark passageway without stopping for either a flashlight or candle.
In the dark he unlocked the door to the inner room. He set the bottle down on the floor and groped through the darkness to where he had left her. His extended hand touched her bare bosom. She screamed. He could hear the chains rattle. She was still his.
Assured of the safety of his prisoner, Cotton made his way back through the darkness to the cabinet and the candles. Feeling the top of the cabinet his hand touched the wax of the candle he had burned earlier. He remembered now that he had left it lit when he had left the room. Now he groped into the cabinet, thinking that he might have left another candle there. He felt something scurry across the back of his hand and he slapped at it. Probably a spider. It gave him the creeps not to be able to see it. But he had to have a light. He groped again and felt a stubby candle. He pulled it out and struck a match. As he lit the stub he realized that this was a candle which had burned on the altar until it was too short for the services. Perhaps there were more of them in the cabinet. With the candle now lighting his way, he looked again. He was in luck. There were several dozen stubs. He took a few of them out and lit them all. They would give him a glorious light. And he would be able to see her better!
As the room became bright with the light of the candles, Cotton could see his victim. She was still against the wall where he had left her. It would have been impossible for her to have moved. He could see the red marks around her wrists where the shackles had cut into her. He could see the one naked tit where he had ripped the bra away. He could see the tiny panties which still covered her golden fluff. The sight of her staggered him. It was like a hungry man being led into a whole roomful of food. He didn't know where to begin. And this time he had left the damn dog outside.
Cotton set the last candle in place and spotted the bottle which he had put on the floor. He picked it up and opened it. He knew that he had been drinking too much lately but he needed it to calm his nerves. Martinsville was getting to him. He would have to take it easy. Now that the blonde was his, it would be easier. But he would have to train her. He would have to teach her all the tricks.
His eyes caught on her panties and he stared at them. Even through the nylon he could see the curly wisps of pubic hair. He wanted to fuck her. He regretted his promise to Lydia. The money didn't really matter. He had only agreed as a favor. If he wanted money, all he had to do was to skim off the collection plate before the goddamn secretary counted it up. Once he had palmed a twenty out of a collection plate with the whole goddamn congregation watching him. Not one of them saw him do it. Being a minister had its advantages. But damn! why had he made that promise? He looked at the girl again. He had to have her. He remembered how she had squirmed when he'd shoved his finger in her cunt. He remembered the way that she fought him when he'd tried to stick it in her mouth.
But his promise to Lydia ruled out her cunt. Unless he could find some way to get his rocks off by eating her out or using his finger again. But that might give her a few thrills but it wouldn't do anything for him. He needed more than a wet finger to make him come. She would have to suck him. That was the only way. But she had probably decided that she would die before she would do it to him that way. He wondered how he could force her to do it.
Cotton took another swig of whiskey as he watched her. He knew that she wanted to speak to him but that she was afraid. That was good. It would make her more pliable. He wiped the whiskey off his lips and suddenly got an idea. The girl knew nothing of his promise to Lydia. She had no way of knowing that some bald businessman had bought an option on her cunt. So maybe he could convince her. .. He wondered which she thought was worse. If getting laid was a fate worse than death, perhaps. . . Perhaps sucking his prick would be the lesser of the evils!
It was a brilliant plan and he was sure it would work. He set down the bottle and approached her. "Ready to get laid?" he asked!
"Oh, no, please, Reverend Salter," Jane stammered. She didn't know what to think anymore for this was all so strange. Yet, she couldn't let that happen to her. It would be wrong. And he shouldn't do it. Perhaps she could convince him. "Please, Reverend Salter, I know I've been bad. I know I've been a hypocrite and that I've done something very wrong." In fact, Jane knew nothing of the kind but she was simply assuming that if such an evil thing was happening to her, she must have done something to deserve it. Certainly God wouldn't let this happen to her if she hadn't deserved it. And that it was a minister who held her prisoner! There had to be a reason for it and it had to be something she had done. Although she didn't know what it was, she struggled to be repentant. "Please help me to be a better girl," she implored, "only don't make me do that! Oh, please, I beg of you!"
Cotton liked it when she begged. It made his prick grow hard. "I have to do it," the minister told her. "It's the only way that you'll learn the consequences of your wickedness," he stammered. He laid his hand on her naked breast and gave it a squeeze. Jane squirmed as she felt his hot hand against her naked flesh. His touch agitated the tender tissue of her nipple and again caused it to erect. She wished that wouldn't happen but she couldn't seem to stop it. Her unwilling body could not help reacting to his touch. His hand pressed between her legs and Jane felt her panties being pushed into the split between her pussylips. As he rubbed his finger back and forth she had a horrible fear of what would happen. She tried to keep her mind off it but the friction was giving her too much stimulation. She knew that slowly the dampness of her own body would wet the panties until the crotch was soaked in her sweet juices.
Cotton knew it, too, and he was determined to keep rubbing her twat until the whole room stank of cunt smell. Then she would realize the position she was in. Then she would realize that even her tight, virgin cunt could not keep out his stiff boner, not with all that slick lubrication smoothing the way for him. She could be like a vise and he would still get in. He wanted her to know it. Then maybe he could get her to blow him.
He rubbed her tit and he rubbed her twat. From time to time he ground his crotch up against her thigh so that she could feel the hardness of his prick. He wanted her to be aware of just how much prick he could give her . . . if he decided to do it. Then maybe she would be more cooperative, when she knew all the consequences. His finger dug deeper into her pussy and he could feel the' dampness beginning to come through her panties.
He was tempted to slip the crotch of her panties aside and dip his finger deep into her twat. But he was worried about her cherry. If it was too tight he might spoil her for Lydia. Certainly he couldn't do that. And besides, Lydia had promised him that he could watch. He would like that. To stand and watch her while a stranger bought the right to deflower her. It would be good. And he could fuck her afterwards. He could fuck her all night. But right now he was going to get his cock sucked, one way or another.
Cotton released the trembling girl and reached for the shackles. Jane breathed a sigh of relief, pleased that he had stopped before bringing her to the climax which he had started to build up inside her. Yet she couldn't help being a little agitated with the feeling he had given her. For the first time in her life she craved to put her finger between her legs and finish the work which his hand had started. She wondered what was becoming of her. She decided that being chained to the wall was making her unstable. She prayed for God to give her more self-control. Yet it seemed strange to her that she would need it.
Cotton released both her arms and pulled her body forward so that only her ankles were now fastened to the wall, as well as being fastened to each other. She fell down on all fours like a dog, but with her ankles chained to the wall she could not go anywhere. She was in a good position, just as long as she stayed up on all fours. Of course she might fall on her stomach and that would make it harder for him. But the floor was very cold and he had the feeling that she wouldn't realize that this was something that could save her. She was so inexperienced that she just wouldn't know. He could take full advantage of her innocence. It would be such a delight.
Cotton moved around in front of her. He unzipped his fly. He would not have to take his pants off for what he was going to do. He whipped out the stiff dong and let it bob in front of her face. With his hand he peeled back the foreskin and let her see the whole length of glistening red meat. She tried to close her eyes but he just laughed at her. It didn't matter if she looked or not. She knew it was inches from her face, and she knew he was going to use it on her. Whether she looked at it or not she could not help but feel the fear of what he was going to do.
Cotton gave his prick a few whacks to test the hardness. He felt himself almost come and he eased off his grip on his cock. It was getting too sensitive from being rubbed inside his pants. "Ready to get fucked?" he asked the girl, stepping behind her and standing between her chain-spread legs. He lifted her tattered dress and hung her skirt over her back.
Jane could feel the nakedness of her loins. The slip was shredded and only her thin panties stood in the way of his lust. Cotton grabbed them and jerked them down to the middle of her thighs. She could not stop him. She tried to reach between her legs and cover herself with her hand but his knee kicked her thigh and knocked her forward. She had to quickly move the hand back to the floor to keep from falling on her face. Cotton knelt between her thighs and placed his hand on her bare ass. She had a solid fanny and the sensation of touching it delighted him. He shoved his hand between her legs and played with the fluffy fur. He wanted her to believe that his cock would be next. Only if she really thought that he was going to fuck her could he achieve his purpose. He rubbed her soft pussylips until he felt her body trembling. He knew she was resisting him with every corner of her being. He drew his finger through the gash of her crotch and felt the wetness which had welled up despite all her efforts to conquer her desire. He let his hard prick slap against her soft white inner thigh, dangerously close to her twat. He heard her give a little gasp.
"I'm going to fuck you," Cotton advised. "Perhaps when you've suffered the humiliation you deserve, you'll learn to become a better girl" Cotton was choking to get the words out. His lust had taken control of him and his holy coolness was completely blown. Yet the girl was so troubled herself that the words sounded sincere. They sounded like the same Cotton Salter whom she had admired so much in church. "Only when you've tasted of the flesh will you be able to conquer your lust," he advised. "Only by feeling God's wrath in your body will you be able to control your sinfulness!" he told her.
But Jane could not think of God's wrath. She was more concerned with the minister's stiff cockmeat that was bobbing against the tender lips of her pussy. It was getting her terribly aroused. She knew that she would have to make the greatest effort to stop him. She could hardly trust her body any more and she knew that she might have to do something desperate to save herself. How could she ever let him stick that thing inside her? What would become of her? She hated to think.
"Are you prepared to meet God?" the minister thundered. He was beginning to feel like himself again. He knew he was winning. He could see the doubt in her eyes. "Open up your legs and let the Holy Spirit fill your heart and mind!" he demanded.
"Oh, no, not like that!" Jane cried. It was all catching up to her now, she realized that he was serious. The hard penis against her leg was making her twat ache and she was getting all sorts of strange feelings which she had never felt before. It was all happening so fast that it scared her. She had to do something to slow it down, before her whole world exploded. "Please! Reverend Salter, don't make me do that! I'll do anything you say! I'll do anything but that! Oh, please don't make me do it!"
"Anything, Jane?" he asked, trying to control his impatience. He had to have it soon or his prick would explode. He was practically ready to whack it off just to get a little relief. "Do you know what you're saying?" he asked.
"Yes," she insisted, praying that he would believe her. She wasn't sure what was going to happen. "I'll do anything you tell me to," she promised. "Only don't make me do that!"
Cotton Salter stood up and looked down at the girl. He knew she was sincere. If only he could show the same sincerity for a few more minutes he might be able to get what he wanted. "Do you understand that you have been wicked?" he asked her. She lied and told him that she did. She was sure that it was what he wanted to hear. "Do you know that you have to be punished?" he demanded. Again she said yes. She wasn't sure why. Probably she was lying. But all she could think was that she had to do something to save herself. Everything was getting so confused.
"Jane," Cotton said, standing in front of her again and letting his prick swing in her face. "Do you know that you must repent? Do you know that you must make a sacrifice of yourself in order to be saved?" Hardly hearing his words, Jane nodded her head. If this would save her virginity she was willing. But she wasn't sure what was on his mind. She hardly cared. The heat of his penis against her leg had been very upsetting. She wasn't sure that she could take it again. Perhaps the next time she felt it her resistance would melt. "Jane, there's something you can do-if you want to-rather than getting laid. Here's my cock, Jane. You can suck on it. You can suck on it until I tell you that you may stop. Jane. . . If you want to remain a virgin-and God demands virginity of unmarried women, then you must put my penis in your mouth. You must suck it until you're filled with the Holy Spirit."
Jane looked up at him. She saw the hairy balls. She saw the redness and the stiffness and the amazing length of his penis. He wanted her to put it in her mouth? It seemed like such a strange thing to do . . . but she had never heard anyone say that it was wrong, although certainly it would seem wrong. Her mother had never taught her anything about sex but she had found out a few things about men and women. But certainly this wasn't one of them . . . and that other thing, that other choice he was giving her, why he even admitted that it was wrong. It would be better to do what he was suggesting, even though it seemed terrible distasteful. She looked up at his eyes. She knew that he was going to make her.
"Suck it, Jane," Cotton told her, holding his prick very close to her lips. "Suck it and your sins will be forgiven." Jane looked at it in wonder. He wanted her to put it in her mouth! Could she really do it? She knew she would have to try. It was her only chance and the other thing was much too terrible. She would have to do as he told her. "Put your fist around it, Jane," the minister coaxed. "Hold it in your hand and lick it a little. It will feel good, Jane. Try it and see."
She reached up and took it in her hand. It was hot and throbbing and it frightened her. It gave a twitch and she quickly drew back her hand. "Grab it!" Cotton screamed and Jane quickly did what he told her. "Lick it!" he yelled as she held it tight in her fist. Quickly Jane lowered her head to his bone. This was the only way she could do it. If she stopped and thought about it it would be too much for her. She would just have to do it. She would have to pretend that it was all a dream.
Her tongue flicked against the tender red meat. She wasn't sure what she had expected but it didn't taste any different than it tasted to lick her fingers when she got cake on them. It was just human flesh. She kept repeating it to herself over and over again. She licked up and down the shaft. She was surprised by how hard it was. She was surprised by the way that the skin stretched taut against the bone. Her tongue slowly worked up and down the side. Then she licked the top. "The underside!" Cotton demanded, and Jane licked that too.
His prick was getting covered with her saliva. In the dim light of the candles she could see it glisten. There was something very erotic about the sight and she couldn't help feeling it. To be alone in a dim room with a man who was sexually aroused, while she knelt on the bare floor, her clothes torn to rags, struggling to satisfy his lust. She felt her body responding to the same hot desires which stirred his. She closed her eyes as she licked but found herself peeping. She couldn't understand it but she just had to look. Perhaps it was only to protect herself. She tried to convince herself that this was the case. But in her heart she knew it was a lie. She knew that his prick aroused her!
Licking his penis wasn't as bad as she had imagined. There was really no taste and how could he hurt her this way? She even allowed her tongue to stretch out shamefully and lick against his balls. He seemed to like that too. She could hear his heavy breathing. But Cotton was not content. "Put it in your mouth!" he told her. He grabbed her hair gently and firmly held it up. "Put your lips around it and let your head rock back and forth. Don't stop till I tell you, do you understand?"
Jane found herself nodding her head in agreement. Already she felt the shame of what she was doing. She hadn't hated it the way that she should have. Perhaps the minister was right. Perhaps if she put it in her mouth she would feel how degraded she was. She did as he told her. She opened her jaws wide. She poked the wide bone between her lips. She had to stretch them fully apart in order to accommodate him. Her mouth seemed so small with him inside her. She could hardly 'breathe. She had to struggle a little to get accustomed to it. The head of his prick poked out against her cheek and stretched her flesh. Her lips fastened around the tender skin behind the head and clamped down the way that he told her to. She began to rock her head.
At first it was awkward. She was keeping her lips so tight that he wouldn't slide in her mouth. She let more spit drool down the hot shaft and she felt it dribbling down her chin. She knew she was making a mess of it. She wasn't sure what she could do about it. But she struggled on, bobbing her aching neck up and down on the shaft, trying to adjust her lips so that the cock slid easily across them. She had to be careful with her teeth so-that she didn't bite down on him. She began to find it going easier and she was slightly pleased with herself. She was beginning to feel that it wasn't such a bad thing. And maybe he was helping her, in his own way. Surely God hadn't let this happen to her for no reason, even if perhaps Reverend Salter had fallen in lust.
Jane felt Reverend Salter's hands on her head. He was only pressing lightly, not the way he had hurt her before. It didn't feel bad to have him rest his hands like that. In fact, it helped to give her a feeling of confidence in what she was doing. There was no way that he could tell that she was dripping cream into her panties now. That made her feel a little better. He would think that she was very penitent. So why shouldn't she let herself go a little with what she was doing? After all, she was being forced. That part was a comfort to her. Otherwise she couldn't have gone on.
Cotton Salter's hips began to jerk forward and backward. He was no longer standing still and letting him blow her but gradually he began to really fuck her in the mouth. His prick was impatient for a chance to blow its load. He could feel himself coming and he held her head tighter. He knew that no matter what he told her, she would try to pull away. But he wouldn't let her. He would make her eat it. He wanted to see what she would think of having his load in her mouth. He jerked his hips faster. He made her suck faster too. He could feel himself coming and his balls ached. Then it was happening. Right down the pipe. His fuck was flying and she was tasting his load.
Jane felt the hot spurt fly deep against the back of her throat and instinctively pulled away. She felt his firm grip holding her and for a moment she thought that she would choke. For a moment she panicked as his rod rammed toward her tonsils and his come spurted out. Then she found that she could breathe through her nose. She found that he could pump his heavy wad into her mouth and fill her jaws. She found that her tongue could swish the sticky globs around her gums. It was a terrible feeling, a feeling of total helplessness and degradation. It was horrible to have a man do this to her. It filled her with shame. And yet somewhere beneath the shame and horror, somewhere beneath the humiliation, Jane found herself aroused and willing.
The minister's prick jerked and squirted. Jane had to struggle to contain it all in her mouth. And he was gripping her head so tightly. Wouldn't he let her alone? She licked and sucked and tried to do his bidding. She felt something warm drool down her chin and fall against her breast. She was getting it all over. She struggled not to be so messy. She couldn't really help herself. It made her ashamed. Like a naughty little girl. She hoped that he wouldn't say anything. She didn't want more punishment.
But Cotton Salter had blown his stack. His pipes were clean and his thoughts were rapidly returning to the bottle on the floor. Turning his back on her abruptly, he went and fetched it. He took a long pull and set the bottle down on the cabinet, right in front of the silver cross. He stopped to catch his breath. He looked down and saw that his limp prick was still hanging from his fly. He reached down and stuffed it back in his pants. He noticed that she had licked it very clean. He didn't even have to wipe it with a handkerchief. Nobody would be able to smell the come. He walked over to her and looked at her. He saw that she was crying. Tears were running down her cheeks. Her head was lowered.
The sight of her aroused him, even though he knew he really didn't have time. The ladies would be expecting him for the cake sale. Well, he had a nice piece of cake of his own. Seeing how he had humiliated her only made him want to abuse her more. He wanted to do things to her, things she would hate. Cotton Salter clutched the whiskey bottle and suddenly an idea came to him. He looked at the long neck of the bottle. It wasn't very big around, not much bigger than a Tampax. Even Salter wondered about the bottle. He wondered just how much she could take without ruining her for Lydia. Christ, Lydia would hate him if the girl was ruined. But maybe the bottle wouldn't be that big.
She was still crouching on the floor as he approached her. He could see the fear in her eyes. He wondered if she had guessed what he was going to do to her. He wondered if he should chain her first. But he thought about it for a moment and realized that she couldn't resist him. If she resisted she would only succeed in hurting herself. The only way she could stay a virgin was by submitting completely, by letting him have his way with her. That would be her only defense. He bent down and released the chains from her ankles.
"Ever gotten fucked with a bottle?" the minister sneered. He poked it in her direction so she could see how the slender neck resembled a hard prick. Her eyes narrowed a little but she said nothing. "Ever play with yourself that way when you were a kid?" he asked. "Come on, I'm your minister. You can trust me," he grinned. "What did you do when you wanted to make yourself feel good?" he asked. "Did you just do it with your finger or did you use something else? A carrot, maybe. Or a banana. Well, the bottle is a little stiffer. I think you'll like it. Just hold still now. . . "
"No!" Jane Hartley shrieked, jumping up from where she had been cringing on the floor and running to the farthest corner of the room. Cotton Salter grinned and slowly pursued her. There was no place she could run. "Let me out of here!" she cried, darting to the locked door and frantically trying to twist the handle with her hands. She could not budge the door. She even tried to kick it with her foot. She looked for another corner to run to but she knew she was trapped. He slowly closed in on her.
She tried to cry out again but she was choked off by his strong hand across her throat. He pinned her head to the door and pushed her dress away from her crotch. "Just hold still and you won't get hurt," he advised her. She screamed at him to leave her alone. Quickly, he explained what happened when a virgin used Tampax. He realized that she had never even put that into her body. But she had heard a little from her friends. She knew he was telling her the truth. Before she could have a chance to think about it any more, he jammed the bottle between her thighs so she could see just how hard that it was. He wanted her to know that he meant business. Her face was pure panic. "You'll just have to trust me," he grinned. She knew he was telling her the truth. Her only safety was in trust. But how could se trust a man who was so filthy? It was hard for her to do.
"Don't let it rip your cunt apart," Cotton smiled as he applied the neck of the bottle to the crack between her pussylips. The bottle was dry and hard. The feeling that it gave her scared her. It was almost as if she would have preferred the minister to put his prick there. At least it wouldn't have been quite so hard. But the bottle scared her. She tried to stand very still. "I'll wet it a little for you," he told her. He went down on his knees.
Jane Hartley stood without daring to move as Cotton Salter lapped at her pussy. She tried not to feel what he was doing to her. She tried to pretend that there was no feeling in her clit when his tongue pressed against it. She tried to ignore the stimulation when his finger probed her cunt, trying to see how deep it could go without damaging her. She tried to hold very still and pretend that nothing was happening. She might have convinced him, had her body not released its soft white cream.
She could feel it coming. It was oozing out of the walls of her cunt. She wondered why it happened like that, even though she didn't want it. It made her mad at herself. There was no way she could fight it. And, now he would know. Everything that she had been trying to hide. There was no concealing the way that her body was feeling. There was no sense in trying to hide her shame. He could see it all. All in that thin white cream. She felt her breath coming faster. The' minister got back up to his feet.
"Just relax and let it happen," Cotton urged. Jane looked at him in terror. She couldn't help holding her legs tight. She felt the cold neck of the bottle against her thigh. Then he had it in her cunt fur. He was playing with her. He was slowly splitting her snatch apart with the neck of the bottle, slowly finding her vagina. She froze as she felt it press against her deep opening. She pressed her body back against the door as he started to shove it into her. Yes, she had dreamed of something like this happening to her when she was little, but that was a nightmare. Now her nightmare was coming true.
She felt the slightest trace of pain as the lip of the bottle disappeared inside her. She knew that the bottle was straining against her hymen, trying to pass through it without ripping it. Was the opening wide enough? It was wide enough to let her period blood out, she knew that much. But could it let the bottle in? She would soon see. It was a terrible thing that was happening. It scared her to think of it. Yet the bottle was being pressed into her. Deeper and deeper. Despite all her wishes. He was pushing it into her cunt.
Halfway down the neck, the bottle widened. Cotton Salter noticed the wide spot and wondered if he should try his luck. He didn't want to hurt her. Not until Lydia had her. He just wanted to shake her up a little. It might be taking too much of a chance. But he had the bottle in her. Maybe he could fuck her a little. Slowly he started to run the bottle in and out of her body. Slowly he increased the speed. The bottle was wet with her own cream. Her .body had made it slippery. While one hand worked the bottle, his other hand reached for her cunt. He pushed his fingers through her cunt hair. His middle finger found her clit. While he continued to work the bottle inside her, he began to diddle her twat.
Jane immediately felt the effect. She couldn't help squirming a little now, even though she tried to be careful. The bottle hadn't done much except frighten her. A cold old bottle couldn't arouse her. But his finger could. The human touch was working. And worst of all, as she squirmed at the touch of his finger, she found herself riding the bottle. The unyielding glass seemed to be warming as her twat writhed over it. She hadn't expected this to happen. She had thought that she had it under control. But his finger was really burning her, really setting her aflame. Now, as she squirmed and wiggled her ass, she was actually fucking herself with the bottle, she was actually making her body move in a fucking rhythm. Jane tried to stop herself before he noticed but she saw she was already too late.
"Like it, honey?" Cotton Salter said in amusement. "Are you sure you never did that as a little girl?"
"No!" Jane said, embarrassed, and the word did not come out as forcefully as she had intended. She wondered why it was so hard to control her body. Certainly she had never had this problem before. Not before she had met Reverend Salter.
"Maybe you'd rather have my dick?" the minister asked. Stopping for a moment and rubbing the front of his pants. "Please don't do that," she begged, frightened even by the thought of what might happen if he bared his erect tool.
She wondered what would happen. She wondered if she just might lose control. She didn't want to be put to the test. Not when she was feeling this way.
Cotton Salter continued to rub her clit. She continued to fuck the bottle, despite her resolution not to. There was nothing that she could do to bring her raging body under control again. She was lost in a whirlwind of lust. Her ass started to pound gently up against the door. Her tits felt so sensitive she could hardly bear it when the minister pressed his chest up against her body. If getting fucked was just like this, No! What was she thinking! She had to get control of herself!
But Jane could already feel the warmth building inside her. Already she knew that she was about to release what was building up inside her. It was funny the way that orgasms seemed so natural to her when the minister was around. She tried to wish that he would stop, but she couldn't even do that. All she could do was to choke off her gasps so that they were inaudible when they finally escaped her lips.
"Like to fuck?" the minister grinned, jabbing and rubbing harder. She didn't have to answer him. Her body would answer well when the time for it came. Right now she was giving all the proof he could ask for. His finger was swimming in her creamy juice. "Like to get it a little harder?" he said, doing just that. He was still careful not to drive the bottle too deep but the finger didn't matter. He could do what he wanted with the finger, and he wanted to do her good. He knew she was going to come, even if she didn't scream out loud. He could see her trying to choke it off in her throat. He wiggled the finger harder.
She came like a flash. It was so sudden that she couldn't quite control the cry completely and she knew that the first part of her gasp came out loud. The rest of it choked off in her throat where it seemed to inflame her whole insides. Her cunt was torrid. It was on fire with lust. She thought for a moment that it might melt the bottle. The bottle had seemed to disappear. But it was only her slick lubrication which had oozed so generously that the bottle was swamped in it. All she could feel was her own cream. Her legs seemed to twist as her body went tense. She rose slightly on her toes as the last little twitch worked down to her feet. Then she relaxed.
Jane leaned back against the door as Reverend Salter drew the cunt-drenched bottle from her pussy. He staggered backward slightly until he could take in her full length at his leisure. In a quick jerky motion he raised the bottle to his lips. Jane watched in wonder as he drank from it. He hardly seemed to notice the white secretion which now covered the first three inches of the neck. He leaned his head back and took a stout pull. "Shit, the cake sale;' he said abruptly, pulling the bottle from his lips and splurting whiskey down the front of his clothes. "Mints, mints. . . " he muttered as he reached into his pocket. He drew them out and popped one in his mouth. He set down the bottle. There was that fucking cake sale in the assembly hall and he had to give the blessing. He would have to save her until later. When he could have some more fun.
Cotton Salter reached over and caught Jane under her armpits. He lifted her roughly, practically pulling her off her feet. She stumbled a little as he did it, but she didn't fall. He pushed her up-against the wall. Once again he chained her legs in place. Once more she did not resist him as he shackled her wrists. He knew he was breaking her will. Already he had humbled her. She was ashamed of what she had done. So ashamed that she couldn't face the others. She could not run from him, not like this. His sticky fuck still clung to her bosom in a white glob. He wiped it off with the back of his finger and dabbed it onto her nose.
He smiled as her face twisted in disgust. She was such a joy!