Chapter 4
Brannigan heard her faint cock-strangled mutterings and knew the sound of a desperate prayer. He laughed and licked sweet virgin cunt-honey off his lips. He'd lost faith in God's mercy long ago when a lying little bitch ruined his whole life.
Paul had been a high school football star, a senior with a full scholarship to play for a top university. Coaches and sports-writers all said he had a good chance to make it big in the pros. But that dream shattered when he was sent to the monastery.
He thrust his whipped cock viciously into the young nun's gagging mouth, enjoying the frantic writhing he felt deep in her throat. Some would have said his mind was more distorted than his mutilated prick, but Brannigan played the role of devoted priest by day and so few even suspected what went on in his head.
Angelique's tight throat brought exquisite sensations to his battered cock. Now that it was done and his wounds long healed, he actually enjoyed being hung with an awesome cock so warped and twisted that it pained and thrilled a woman far more than any normal man.
"I think all women deserve this," he said. "I haven't known one yet who was honest enough to speak the truth. Even Mother Superior at the convent filled your head with crap so she could have the pleasure of sucking your cunt for a week before sending you to me."
Angelique was dizzy for lack of breath. Her oxygen-starved brain reeled in a dazed state of torment that was almost euphoria. Then Brannigan eased his cock back far enough for her to grab a quick gulp of air. The nun would have rather died than be forced to swallow his cock again, but her instincts took over and she sucked in air with a rasping sound.
Brannigan plunged deep into her tilted back throat again. He had the table adjusted to the perfect angle. He could fuck her pretty face and suck her luscious cunt at the same time. He leaned down grunting and did both at once.
The nun strangling in torment felt her pussy stirring again. The peaceful bliss that followed her climax had been whipped into a frenzy by his probing tongue. Her body wanted more even though her mind couldn't stand it.
He wondered how long it would take Angelique to get over her sick feelings of revulsion. Some women never do. The girls on that remote island had spoiled him. Theirs was a simple life and they lived for pleasure alone.
Angelique had been taught all her life to equate pleasure with temptation and resist both. But her body still possessed all its primitive yearnings. Her hot flesh was willing, but her mind rebelled.
Brannigan let her gulp breath and then filled her throat again, delighting in the way anguish increased the strength of her writhing throat. Hugging waves of motion greeted his sinking cock.
Angelique was bitterly cursing God for not letting her die. Each thrust of the priest's twisted cock was vile abuse more degrading to her than being bound to the cross and brutally whipped.
He defiled her body and all she believed as well. She shuddered and wondered if making her suffer this terrible ordeal was God's punishment for taking and reading a forbidden book. If only she'd had the will to resist that first slight temptation, none of this would have happened.
Brannigan's hairy ball sac slammed her forehead whenever he thrust his cock down her throat. She could see it coming and couldn't help cringing. Men's bodies were strange to her. The hideous dangling parts seemed so grossly obscene.
His tongue kept working her clit and he made rough growling noises of animal delight. Angelique couldn't help it. Her lush body responded to him. She arched her back even though that pained her bound legs.
Her ankle and knee joints strained. The muscles in her shapely legs trembled, but she twisted and moaned and forced her cunt up into his mouth. Sparking pleasure from his tongue would dull the pain of his ravaging cock in her throat.
"You like it, don't you?" he chuckled.
"Nungh!" she groaned.
"I know. You can't hide it."
Brannigan laughed and drew back enough to let her breathe. By then the wringer-like motion of her anguished throat had washed his cock clean. He let her gape at its sheening, gnarled length and then drove it in again.
"I know you've been taught to suck cunt," he said with a wet-lipped grin. "Mother Superior wouldn't let you get away without learning that."
Angelique feebly nodded her head beneath him the next time he drew his cock back. Brannigan's head was between her upraised legs, so he couldn't see her, but he could feel the swirl of her golden blonde hair and the motion of her soft cheeks between his taut thighs.
"Well, sucking cock isn't too different. You just work your tongue inside your mouth instead of out."
She moaned and warmed his waiting cock with her hot breath. Then she stroked it timidly with her tongue, lightly touching the underside.
Brannigan sighed and rewarded her with a kiss on the clit. Angelique felt the pleasure her body craved. She curled her tongue and licked his cock more anxiously the next time.
"That's a little better. Thrill my cock and I'll make you climax again. You'll experience pleasure like before and forget all the pain."
Angelique knew that much to be true despite all the lies she'd been told by officials of the church. Her body ached for that almost magical release from suffering.
It came sooner than she expected. Being bound and tilted head-down sent blood hammering into her skull. The sharp slant also sent the heat and frenzied writhing of her tongue-whipped cunt sliding to the base of her throat.
When Brannigan's cock plunged deep, the warped cockshaft was greeted by rippling contractions. Angelique was about to enjoy the first double climax of her young life. She tensed and hissed when his warped prick pulled back, sucking hard to hang on.
Then she lapped and stroked the bulging head with her tongue. She was anxious, silently begging for the rush of pleasure that would erase pain. Brannigan obliged her with long, deep-reaming thrusts into her throat while his tongue flailed her clit and probed her cherry-stained cunt.
Angelique's eyes gazed in rapture, focused as though on some distant star. The girl no longer cared about a man's balls rudely slapping her forehead, or about the pain like smoldering embers that came from her cunt where her cherry had been torn.
She sucked his twisted cock with the passion of crazed desperation. He tensed, muscles strained by the heat and pressure in his weighty balls. Brannigan fought the impulse for instant relief, clamping a taut ring of muscle at the base of his cock to contain the sultry flow as long as he could.
The blonde nun couldn't wait. She teased and stroked with her tongue to make him cum. Brannigan's breath hissed warm on her squirming cunt slit, but he could only take her anxious tongue lashing for a few seconds. He gave in and came with a roar.
Brannigan pumped his cock in and out. The second volcanic gush of cum exploded in her mouth, drenching her tongue and slicking her teeth with a cloying salt-sweet taste. It made her want to retch. The wringing motion started in her chest and constricted her throat, but by then he was pushing his cock back in.
He felt her tortured contractions as sheer delight. The line between extreme pleasure and pain became blurred for them. Angelique sucked with such frenzied desire that her teeth raked his scarred cock. Brannigan reacted by fucking it harder and faster into her mouth and deep down her throat.
The young blonde nun sputtered and gagged, finding it almost impossible to swallow because she was tilted head-down. Hot jism pooled in the hollow that was the roof of her mouth. It gushed from her lips when Brannigan lunged in.
Silver-white cream glossed her lips and dripped into her nose. Some ran by and misted her fluttering blue eyes, but Angelique was hardly aware of the flood. Only the intense pleasure of her climax mattered. That wracked her throat and pussy together as though the two were one long single tube.
Brannigan felt weak and breathless by the time he'd pumped out his second load. Angelique was dazed, almost unconscious from the glorious climax that wracked her body from mouth to crotch. He pulled out to let the girl breathe.
She was still gagging, half choked by a flood of cum that couldn't be swallowed with her head hanging down. Brannigan worked another pair of levers and tilted the table the other way.
Angelique made grateful gurgling noises and finally managed a faint little smile. Her tongue licked the glaze of cum off her lips and she swallowed that too.
"A man's cock does things to me that no woman can," she confessed shyly.
"Yes, of course. That's the way things were meant to be."
"I'm not sure," Angelique said. "I've lived in the convent since I was six-years-old."
"Why when you were so young?" he asked. Brannigan's craggy face became almost sympathetic.
"My parents were both killed in a plane crash. My only other relative was a maiden aunt who didn't know what to do with me. She said the convent's school for girls would be best. She was a very religious person."
"I'm sure," Brannigan said bleakly. He began to untie the cords binding her to the altar table, freeing Angelique's wrists first. "So was Maria."
"Who's Maria?"
"Someone a lot like you," he said. "A long time ago." The tone was not pleasant.
"She must have done something terrible to you," Angelique guessed. She had both arms free, crossed over her chest to rub the reddened chafe marks with the opposite hand.
"She did." m
While Brannigan untied her ankles, he told the girl about Maria's merciless prick teasing and later claiming to have been an innocent victim of a vicious rape-his painful path to the priesthood. By the end he was loosening the last stubborn knot.
"And so tonight you punished me for what she did to you?"
"I suppose." Brannigan gave her a longing glance as she moved to the altar rail and started to put her habit back on.
"You are a priest, Father Brannigan. And I am a nun. We are supposed to be above that kind of temptation." Her voice was stern, her eyes steely blue.
"You enjoyed it as much as I did," he said, feeling suddenly defensive. "Maybe even more."
"Maybe," she said with an enigmatic little grin, "but we must never yield to those devilish impulses again. We have a higher mission in this life."
"A higher mission, my ass!"
Brannigan was about to grab her arm and shake some sense into the girl's head, but she was in full habit by then. Dull black folds of cloth concealed her gorgeous figure. A long black mantle trimmed with white hid her flowing mane of golden hair. Her austere look restrained him.
"We must rededicate our lives to the church," she said. "Perhaps then God will forgive our mortal sins."
Brannigan was still naked, his gnarled wet cock just starting to sag. The memory of her soft flesh still smoldered, and he did not feel much like a priest at all.
"I know you're young and overflowing with idealism," he said, "but this mission of ours is a church dumping ground. We're both here because we fucked up, so why the hell shouldn't we fuck each other?"
"We were sent here to atone for our sins," she said sternly. "Not to compound them. The church-"
"The church?" Brannigan spit the words like they had a foul taste. "Fuck the church! The Archbishop won't give me money to feed the hungry, clothe those who are cold or help the sick. He wouldn't even give nine dollars to buy a Goddamned basketball so kids around here might have something better than a bloody gangfight for recreation."
Angelique cast a doubting sideward glance through the arches that connected three main rooms of the waterfront mission. The sanctuary they were standing in, a well-equipped recreation room and a spacious dining hall beyond that. The pleasant aroma of beef stew and fresh baked bread still lingered faintly. She tried to concentrate on that instead of the stronger scents of lust that burdened her mind with guilt.
'The Lord has somehow provided for all of this," she concluded, feeling her faith even more reinforced.
"Not exactly the Lord as you like to think of him," Brannigan said.
He was putting on his cassock, the long black garb of a priest. The man was torn between two worlds-one of blind faith he'd been taught since childhood, the other of harsh reality he'd been forced to learn since. He would have gone on to explain outfitting the mission without much in the way of official support, but they were interrupted by a loud knock at the street door.
Brannigan strode toward it, smoothing his cassock and rearranging his gnarled cock, intuitively slipping back into his role as the kindly and helpful parish priest.
"Who is it?" he called, well aware that little was sacred in this part of the city.
"It's me, Padre ... Monk."
Angelique recognized his voice and it sent chills down her spine. She opened her mouth to plead with Father Brannigan not to open the door, but her throat was still thick with his cum and she found it suddenly hard to speak.
Brannigan said, "Monk!" as though greeting a long-lost friend and hurriedly unlocked the door.
The young nun standing well back by the altar recognized him immediately. Dark curly hair, dark piercing eyes, a face that was lean and almost handsome now that a friendly smile bowed his lips.
"We brought you another small contribution, Padre." The gang leader held out a soiled laundry bag stuffed full. "Some of the Slaves caught a pair of fine ladies on their way into one of those imagine waterfront condos."
Brannigan took the bag without question or bothering to look inside. He stepped back to let Monk into the church along with four others in matching gang jackets.
Angelique recognized the two girls she'd seen with him in the alley, a brassy blonde and a chemical redhead. They were both pretty but their young faces were set hard. The two young men who flanked Monk looked even more severe.
"What you got in there, Padre, is a pair of full-length mink coats and enough diamond jewelry to make a sultan's eyes pop. That fence you know should pay enough to fund the mission and feed all them old people for a coupl'a months."
Brannigan grinned and set the bag aside. "Thank you, Monk. As I've always said ... the Lord works in mysterious ways."
Monk smiled like a conspirator. "Yeah ... we kept their cash and their credit cards. You know how it is, Padre ... you gotta give the devil his due."
The priest smiled back benignly, almost as though he hadn't heard. Angelique trembled in the shadows of the altar, realizing that Father Brannigan was more than an insidious lecher, he was also an accomplice to thievery-a true partner with Satan himself.
"That ain't quite a free gift like all the others," Monk said. "We need your help, Padre."
Brannigan chuckled. "You mean that Satan's Slaves can't properly entertain two ladies rich enough to have worn diamonds and furs?"
"It ain't that, Padre. We got them two well taken care of. With forty hot young cocks in our outfit, those ladies will be treated to something their fat, rich husbands have never been able to give them-three solid days of nonstop fucking!"
"If you can satisfy them without my crinkled cock, then what can I do to help?" Brannigan asked.
Angelique shrank back farther into the shadows. Friendship and obvious cooperation between a priest and a vicious street gang leader appalled her.
"There's a young blonde somewhere around the waterfront," Monk said. "Hair like spun gold that hangs almost to her waist. Tits like bumper bullets on a vintage Cadillac. Prime stuff, if you know what I mean."
Brannigan grinned smugly. "I get the picture."
"Yeah, well Goldilocks ain't all sweet an' innocent like she seems. She dropped four of our top men in an alley with a fucking broken shovel handle."
"By the knot on the side of your head, I assume that you were one of the four," Brannigan said with perhaps too much of a smile.
"Padre, this ain't no laughing matter! That bitch put two of my guys in the hospital and gave me a headache that half a ton of aspirin won't cure."
"She sounds like quite a lady," he said, his cock starting to twitch and throb again. Angelique's spirited resistance was like a powerful aphrodisiac.
"She's fucking hell on wheels!" Monk said with sullen admiration.
Father Brannigan flipped a switch on the wall that flashed on lights to flood the altar where Angelique had been cowering, shuddering in disbelief. He made a mocking bow and swept an outreached hand in her direction.
"Monk, I would like you to meet Sister
Angelique."
The young gang leader gaped and blinked his eyes to make sure. "That's her! She's the luscious little bitch that tried to bust my head. I want her, Padre. She's gotta pay!"
"She's a nun assigned to help me run the mission. Sister Angelique is mine," Brannigan said firmly, his lips curling into a lewd grin.
"Not after what she did. I want her, Brannigan! I want her bad!"
Angelique recoiled against the altar, trembling fearfully.
"She belongs to the church," the priest insisted. "That means she belongs to me!"
"The church!" Monk sneered. "They don't give you shit to run the mission. What would this place be without all we steal and give to you?"
"Not much," Brannigan had to admit.
"You're damn right!"
Monk grabbed the bag he'd brought and upended it, dumping the contents on the floor. Two shimmering full-length mink coats tumbled out. Diamond rings, necklaces and bracelets fell to sparkle on folds of sheening fur.
"That stuff will feed a lot of hungry old people," Monk said. "You want it, you gotta give something back. I want the ass of Sister Angelique!"
She stifled a gasp of dismay with her small fist. The cowering nun felt chilled. She was being bartered for with a bag full of stolen goods.
"When Sister Angelique needs discipline, I will deliver it," Brannigan said firmly.
The pretty young blonde in a rustling black habit felt a slight wave of relief. Anything would be better than being turned over to a vicious gang with forty hot young cocks. Angelique pitied the wealthy women with the elegant furs and sparkling diamonds.
Monk thought a moment and said, "I'll settle for that, if we can all watch. I wanna see her ass whipped, then fucked hard by your big gnarled cock."
Angelique cried, "Nnnooo!"
"That's a good compromise," Brannigan agreed. "I'll even let you and the gang have the fun of restraining her." He gave Monk the black nylon cords he'd used to bind her arms and legs to the altar table.
Angelique's blue eyes flashed around the cavernous room that served as the mission church. There was no way outside except through the main door blocked by the leering gang leader and his glaring followers.
Angelique vaulted over the altar rail and ran toward the recreation room. Monk and four of Satan's Slaves took after her like a pack of hounds chasing a fox.
The girl with dyed fiery red hair was fastest on her feet. She reached the arch leading to the recreation room a full second before the terrified nun. Her green eyes gleamed with a look of cruel hunger for vengeance.
"My name's Sheila," she hissed. "It was my boyfriend whose arm you broke. Try to get by me and I'll return the favor!"
Angelique swerved and cut back between two rows of folding chairs that served as pews in the impoverished church. The long black habit kept her from running full speed. Before she reached the end of the aisle, Angelique saw the brassy blonde blocking her path.
"I'm Connie, and it was my boyfriend you stuck in the leg," she said with a steely glare. "I'm gonna love watching the Padre fuck his twisted cock up your ass!"
Sister Angelique skidded to a stop just out of reach and whirled to double back. She found the leering redhead blocking that end of the aisle. The young nun shoved two chairs apart and slipped between them into the next row behind.
Monk did the same thing starting at the back of the church, pushing pairs of chairs aside to clear a path toward Angelique. She felt a chill of nervous sweat as her heart raced in desperation. Satan's Slaves had her surrounded and were steadily closing in. Her worried blue eyes appealed silently to Father Brannigan.
"You can't let them do this!" she moaned.
"Why not? You've been whipped before. The waterfront has rules as strict as the convent, and the first of those is that you don't fuck with Satan's Slaves."
The blonde with brassy hair grabbed Angelique from behind and clamped her claw-like hands on the nun's lush tits. The nun groaned and Sheila, the fiery redhead, sneered contemptuously and snagged a grasping hand into her crotch. She rumpled the nun's habit and fingered the soft dome of Angelique's pussy mound.
"Ugggh, it's wet with bloody cum and cunt honey," she said.
Monk flashed a knowing grin at the priest who just stood watching the gang members close in. "You've already had her on the altar table?"
"I couldn't resist. You'll see why when you've ripped her habit off."
"Yeah, I can hardly wait!" Monk snaked a switchblade knife from his pocket. It snapped open in his hand with a sharp metallic click. The long blade sparkled like diamonds and sent a chilling shiver of fear into Angelique's heart. "You ain't so tough without that shovel handle."
Connie's circling grasp pinned Angelique's arms. The nun struggled in vain, weakened by the pain of having her tits mauled by the girl who'd grabbed her from behind.
Monk bowed down and raised the hem of her black habit. He cut the bottom seam with his razor-sharp knife and began to slice upward between her shapely legs.
Angelique thrashed uselessly and felt the ice-cold kiss of steel on the inner slope of her thigh.
"You twist and squirm like that, you're gonna get cut," Monk warned.
He kept inching the knife upward, splitting the front of her habit with a grating sound. Angelique winced and strained to remain perfectly still. The cold sharp tongue of steel was passing between her tits, cutting both the habit and the long robe she wore underneath.
Connie spread the ripped parts and then clamped her hands on soft naked tit cones quivering with fear. "You'll let me have a little taste of her luscious big tits, won't you, Padre?"
Brannigan nodded.
Monk gave a quick smirk and told Connie, "Squeeze her tits until her nipples bulge sweet and ripe for sucking."
Angelique moaned as Connie's hands clamped around her creamy soft tits, squeezing her taut nipples through open circles formed by the girl's thumbs and forefingers.
The leering gang leader licked his lips as Angelique's nipples swelled throbbing hard with blood powered by a fear-crazed heart beating like a drum.
When the delectable pink buds were fully gorged, he flicked the tip of his sharp knife expertly and nicked her nipple just enough so that a gleaming drop of red blood emerged. Monk bowed his head and licked that off. Then he circled his lips and sucked hard to get more.
Connie milked the wounded tit with wavering finger-strokes to encourage the flow. Angelique wailed sounds of hideous torment. The knife was so sharp and the wound so small that she hadn't even felt it at first. But now his lips pulled and seemed to draw pain into her budding tit along with oozing drops of blood.
"That's the next best thing to sucking the tits of a nursing mother," Monk said with a smack of his tightly drawn lips. The knife flashed again and nicked her other nipple.
Angelique cringed in horror, stung by the pain and shamed by humiliation. The leering gang members had circled close around her.
"You'd best be real good to the Padre," one of the rough-voiced males said. "Do the priest wrong and there won't be even a tattered little shred of your cherry left when we all get through with you."
Angelique gasped, anguished by the pain she felt now and tormented by dread of things, perhaps even worse, that were in store.