Chapter 6

They didn't get back to the mission until after ten the next morning. Brannigan changed from his dark suit, shirt and tie to the cassock of a priest and went right to work supervising volunteers in the dining hall who were preparing the noon meal for the needy.

Sister Angelique was supposed to assist him, but she lingered in the small room back of the sanctuary that had been assigned to her. She was blissful and bleary-eyed after a long night of passionate love-making.

A trunk containing her extra habits and other things from the convent had arrived that morning. On top was the long white gown she'd worn when she spoke her final bows in a symbolic marriage with God. Tears streamed down her cheeks the moment she raised the lid. She felt unworthy to even touch the glistening symbol of her ever-lasting purity.

Paul Brannigan had fucked her a dozen times during the night, thrilling her with his twisted cock. She climaxed more intensely each time, learning how to manipulate the sleek muscles in her pussy to both increase and prolong his lewd pleasure.

At dawn they paused to talk about their life together. They sipped champagne, shared a cigarette and their innermost thoughts. He wanted to leave the church and take her with him. He wanted to get married, raise a family and live as normal people.

Angelique was tempted, but too afraid to commit herself. She had said she needed time to think and she did that in the cold light of day, staring down at the beautiful white gown that symbolized her broken vows.

She stripped off the luxurious mink coat, willing her mind to ignore the tantalizing softness of sleek fur that so entranced her. Angelique then discarded the diamonds that circled her wrist and throat.

Sister Angelique put on a fresh habit and carefully adjusted the stiffly starched white rim that ringed her face. She daubed away persistent tears and vowed again to be the best nun that she could be.

"God is all-loving and will forgive my terrible sins if I have the courage to confess," she assured herself. "I will do penance and beg for absolution."

That meant getting to the grand cathedral where the Archbishop reigned supreme. He would surely understand and put a stop to Father Brannigan's errant ways.

It hardly mattered that he'd said how much he loved her only hours before, or that he wanted to build a life for them both with only rules they could comfortably obey.

"We've both been forced into a life that is completely against our most basic human instincts," he tried to explain.

Angelique felt sick when she thought how close she'd come to being persuaded. But a nun's life was all she knew. Her weakness for lewd pleasure and luxurious things had to be overcome. Confession was the first step.

It wouldn't be hard for her to slip away. Brannigan was in the kitchen helping to make soup to feed fifty or so old people already lined up outside the dining hall door. Angelique took twenty dollars from the cash box in his office, planning to use that for cab fare. The city was strange to her and she had no idea where the cathedral was.

She slipped out a rear door unseen and hurried to a busy corner a block away. There she hailed a passing cab.

"I've got to get to the cathedral downtown," she told the driver. "Will twenty dollars be enough?"

"About right if you don't plan on coming back," he replied.

"I don't ... not ever." Angelique gathered the long flowing skirt of her habit and got into the backseat. "Please hurry!"

The cab driver threaded his way back into traffic. "You from the mission?" he asked curiously.

"Yes. That is, I was."

"Brannigan's a good man," the driver said. "First one to do a damn thing for poor folks around here except preach a lot of shit about heaven above."

The driver's route took them back by the front of the mission where Angelique saw a line of at least a hundred needy old people starting to file into the dining hall.

"Without the mission, most of them would be half naked and hungry most of the time. I respect Father Brannigan, even though I ain't a member of the church."

Angelique squirmed hearing such praise, knowing that her confession would ruin Paul Brannigan. Then she stiffened her spine.

"His methods are highly irregular," she said curtly.

"So I've heard. But you gotta admit ... he gets good things done."

"He's done far too much as far as I'm concerned," Sister Angelique answered sharply.

"You figure to rat on him?" the driver asked curiously.

"I plan to see that his sinful misconduct is stopped," she answered with firm resolve. "His apparent good deeds are only a mask for despicable sin."

"Kinda figured that," the driver said with a twisted grin.

"Whe-where are you going?" Sister Angelique asked in alarm. The cab had turned into a narrow alley that was dark even at midday. "This can't be the day to the cathedral!"

"No, it ain't. But this is as far as you go with me!"

The cab lurched to a stop in the dim alley and was immediately surrounded by a dozen leering young teens all wearing jackets that marked them as Satan's Slaves.

Sheila and Connie yanked open the rear doors. One pushed the other pulled the stammering young nun out of the car.

"Wha-what are you doing? Stop that! let me go!" Angelique squealed.

Connie grinned coldly. "We just knew you'd fuck up and try to make trouble for the padre."

"I'm glad you did," Sheila threw in. "I was afraid when he took you out last night all dolled up in diamonds and furs that Brannigan might have won you over."

Monk stood leaning against the wall, calmly puffing on a cigarette, his brawny arms crossed over his chest. A smirking grin curled his lips. He reminded Angelique of Sister Bernice, the convent's cruel Sister of Discipline. But at that moment she would have been happy back inside the convent's sheltering walls.

Angelique cried desperately to the cab driver, "You can't leave me here!"

He laughed and pulled away, wondering how long it would be before the self-righteous young nun learned how close-knit the waterfront community was.

They took Sister Angelique to Satan's Sanctuary in the basement of an abandoned tenement building condemned by the city years before. The walls were damp, the brick moldy. The enormous room smelled of decay.

Sheila and Connie lit torches that slanted out from the walls in metal holders. On the wall at the far end of the room Angelique saw a leering devil's head decoration almost six-feet tall.

It had been cut from boiler plate, complete with fangs and horns. Sheila turned a valve beneath the hideous pagan idol and propane gas jetted from the mouth. She lit that with another match and leaped back as Satan's image belched real fire.

In front of the flaming devil's head, just beyond the darting tongues of fire there was a bed on a raised platform covered with a shimmering red satin sheet.

Huge candles stood by the four corners of the bed in brass holders almost as tall as a man. It looked like an altar in a church, but this was a pagan temple devoted to the worship of Satan and unthinkable sin.

Angelique shuddered violently as two of Monk's henchmen led her toward the red-draped altar bed. They laid her on her back with her legs spread and her arms stretched overhead.

The church-like trappings of the room worked strangely on her mind. Cold damp walls lit with flickering torches and the fire-breathing symbol of evil brought back frightening memories of torment she'd suffered at the convent.

Chains with locking metal bands rose from each stout leg of the altar bed. like icy jaws, those locked around her wrists and ankles while members of Satan's Slaves began to chant in some guttural tongue known only to them.

They all stripped off their clothes and donned long, hooded red capes of fiery satin. The front of each hood masked the eyes and nose of the wearer. They leered and glared at Angelique through slanted eye slits. The crown of each hood was fitted with a pair of horns just like the huge image of Satan that decorated the wall. Pulsing tongues of flame and puffs of acrid smoke hissed and spit from that hideous symbol. The leering eyes glowed red.

No less ominous looks covered the half-masked faces of flesh that surrounded the altar bed. They circled and chanted with increasing fervor, working themselves toward a fevered pitch.

Through the open fronts of the male member's capes she could see stiff cocks of all shapes and sizes. One was grotesquely long and whip thin, twanging up and down in time with the frenzied chant. Another was short and thick as her wrist, a fearsome specimen topped with a blue-red knob of blood-gorged flesh nearly the size of Angelique's fist.

The garish circle of pagan monks and nuns drew tighter. Angelique saw that one of the young males had his right arm in a cast and a sling beneath his devil's cape. Another had a blood-stained bandage wrapped around his thick muscled thigh. They had to be the pair she'd beaten in the alley!

They seemed to be leading the strange procession. Monk stood off to the side, his cape open to show the largest cock of them all-a solid foot of thick hard flesh stiff and straight as a lance. He held a three-tined fork with a long handle and was heating the barbed tines in Satan's fiery breath. He wet a finger and touched one sharp-pointed tip, satisfied when it hissed with a cracking sound.

Monk grinned and approached the mock altar where Angelique lay helpless, chained hand and foot so tightly that she could hardly move.

He motioned with the heated devil's pitchfork and his followers parted obediently to let him through. Monk leered down from the foot of the bed and gave a nod.

Sheila came forward with a gleaming cold pair of large scissors. Angelique recognized the girl's dyed red hair and the smug sneer that curled her lips.

She began cutting open the front of Sister Angelique's habit, amused by the way that made the young blonde wince and start to weep.

"You'll wish you'd died and gone to the real hell before we're through," Sheila said.

The snapping scissor jaws cut quickly to

Angelique's slender waist and continued on toward her chin. The cold bottom blade slid over the golden-haired dome of her pussy-mound. Angelique twisted and squirmed, sobbing in despair.

Her eyes clamped shut, but tears of shame still leaked through. She was being stripped naked, defrocked again for God and all of Satan's Slaves to see.

Connie, the brass blonde, pulled off Angelique's mantle and ran a hand through the nun's glorious golden hair as it spilled free. Sheila went on snipping between the anguished nun's lush tits, splitting the front of her habit clear to the chin. Then she cut the billowing sleeves open and tore the ruined symbol of piety away. Angelique had been stripped to the skin. She felt a sudden chill and shivered uncontrollably.

Monk grinned smugly and laid the head of the heated three-tined fork flat on her belly. She yelped a cry of pain and thrashed in restraint, clanking the heavy chains that bound her arms and legs.

"You should have stayed with Father Brannigan," Monk said coldly. "He ain't the perfect priest, but the man's a saint compared to anyone in this bunch."

"Yes, I know that now. He was cruel at first, but he loves me. Paul even asked me to marry him!"

"He won't love you so much when he finds out you were going to rat on him," Monk said, turning to reheat the long pitchfork in flames leaping from the devil's mouth.

"Oooooh, no! Please, let me go back to him. I'm not worthy to be a nun, but I can be a good wife."

"What man would want a woman who sneaks off to make trouble for him the moment his back is turned?"

Angelique answered with a mournful wail, writhing on the red satin sheet of the altar bed. The tines of the fork had left a smarting red imprint on her soft white skin. The long middle tine left a mark that ran from her muff of golden pussycurls all the way to her belly button. Two others left parallel marks of pain that curved upward from the points of her hips.

Monk turned back with the fork heated more than before. He held it over her quaking midsection just an inch from her tender flesh. Angelique could feel the radiating heat and shuddered fearfully.

"You betrayed your vows to God," Monk said sternly. "You betrayed a priest, a man who loves you. Only the devil himself will have you now."

Monk positioned the fork carefully and pressed down to mark exactly the same spot.

Searing hot pain flared through Angelique. The three-tined welt reddened on her heaving belly.

"You'll wear the devil's mark from now on," Mark decreed. "You'll be branded as one of us ... a slave to Satan." He stuck the head of the fork back into the fire and heated it red hot.

Angelique blinked her eyes open and stared in stark terror. The fork had been painfully hot before, now the tines glowed cherry red with heat that would char flesh and leave a hideous indelible scar.

"You can be branded with this," Monk said, "or you can serve Almighty Satan with your cunt. You can beg to be fucked by each of his loyal followers."

The nun's mouth gaped wide and her eyes winced shut. Monk brought the red glowing tines of the fork into position over her belly. Radiating heat made her welts sting even though the head of the fork was several inches above her helpless body.

"Nnnooo!" she screamed. "Don't brand me with that! Please fuck me! All of you! Each and every one!"

Monk grinned and eased the fork away. "I think Eddie should be the first since you busted his arm to protect your precious purity."

Eddie was the one with the grotesquely long cock that looked like a rigid snake of vein-ridged flesh. He grinned and licked his lips while climbing onto the altar bed. Sheila glared enviously but said nothing. Her boyfriend hunched over the luscious blonde nun and aimed his long willowy cock at her cunt with his left hand. He worked it up and down in the narrow mouth of her pussyslot, stirring her fuck-honey.

Angelique gazed in awe at the length of the slender cock-rod he was slowly pushing into her. The sleek walls of her pussy writhed and clenched with waves of revulsion.

Eddie loved the ringing tension. Few cunts were tight enough to really grip his snake-like prick. He bored deeper with grunts of delight, doing it slowly so that he could savor each tight constriction of her distress.

Angelique moaned and wailed. She tensed and shuddered when the probing head of his long cock reached the part of her cunt no man had yet touched. His hairy loins pressed down hard on the three-tined welt that sparked smoldering pain.

Eddie swiveled his hips against hers, reaming the taut lips of her quivering cunt. Fresh hot pain blazed in her tender welts, aggravated by the twisting pressure of his bony groin.

He was lopsided because of the arm in a plaster cast that couldn't straighten, but that didn't slow the speed of his hammering fuck-thrusts. Eddie pumped his hips to power long gliding strokes of his arrow-like cock.

It impaled her buttery pussy gash, clamped tight in disgust. Sheila watched, breathing hard and getting horny.

"Stick her deep, Eddie. Ram it in and tickle her nose!"

His cock wasn't long enough to do that, but it did stir a queasy lurching in Angelique's stomach each time he stabbed in and twisted. Angelique tossed her head, wailing in despair. All around she saw hooded and half-masked faces leering through devilish slanted eye slits. The restless churning in her stomach became more intense. Rippling waves of motion swept the whole length of her cunt tunnel, wringing and then relaxing.

"Sooooo deep!" she sobbed. "Ooooo, I can hardly stand it!"

Eddie laughed and increased the speed of his forceful thrusting. Her welt burned with fiery pain. He began to hiss hot breath like the Satan head decorating the wall. His arm ached inside the cast and steaming pressure swelled his balls like two over-ripe plums. They slapped the soft crack of her ass when he fucked in.

Angelique's cunt clenched and swirled with spasms of approaching delight. She sighed and began to make moaning sounds of joy. The nun no longer cared about the devil she'd been told lurked inside. Neither did she care about the chains that bound her. She only wanted the glorious relief of an intense climax.

"Faster!" she urged him. "Drive it deep and hard. Make me Satan's Slave!"

Eddie was too short of breath to reply, but he rammed and twisted his willowy prick in the hidden depths of her cunt just as his balls let go their volcanic flow. He made no effort to restrain the steaming jet of cum.

There would be two other chances to fuck Angelique when his balls weren't so weighty with urgent pressure. Monk had promised the beautiful blonde nun to each of Satan's Slaves three times. He roared delighted noises and pumped cum deep into her cunt until there wasn't a single silvery drop left for her tight pussy-hole to milk out.

"Now it's Floyd's turn," Monk said quickly.

Floyd was big and raw-boned, hung with a short stubby cock that looked like a tree stump rooted in a jungle of wiry black hair. The huge knobbed tip of his thick prick glowed purple-red and pulsed with heat.

Eddie pulled out of Angelique and slid off the altar bed to make room for his friend with the bandaged thigh.

"My thick, hot prick has been aching to fuck you," he said with a wicked grin. "Be glad Eddie greased your cunthole with cum, otherwise my prick might rip a tiny little pussy like yours."

He plunged the meaty prod in as far as it would reach, straining the cum-glossed lips of Angelique's pussy. Floyd's thick cock reached just to the depth of her cherry and the bulbous head grated on its tattered remains.

His hairy body scratched and chafed her smarting welts. Pain sparked from the mark on her belly and from the frayed edges of her shattered virgin's seal.

Floyd's cock was so hugely thick that it tore little pieces that had survived the onslaught of Brannigan's warped prick. The nun's tight little pussy started to seep blood again. He could smell the coppery scent and it made his nostrils flare.

"Glad there was a little of your cherry left for me," he said.

Angelique moaned, too sickened by disgust to reply. This was only the second in an assortment of stiff cocks she could see ringing the altar bed. There were twenty-eight more, all shapes and sizes, all twitching and throbbing with desire.

Monk saw her worried glance. "We've measured them all, Angelique. They average eight inches apiece, times thirty guys who all want to fuck you. That's twenty feet of hot prick!"

"You'll let us suck her out once in a while, won't you?" one of the girls asked.

"Sure," Monk said. "We don't want her little pussy-hole to get too wet and sloppy for the guys at the end of the line."

Angelique shivered as Floyd fucked her brutally hard with his stubby prick, delighting in the way each thrust made her groan.

"I'd fuck a lot harder than this, but my leg still hurts where you stuck me," Floyd said. "Maybe it'll feel better by the time I get back around to you again. Or maybe by then I won't care about the pain."

He laughed maniacally and pumped into her until his stubby cock spat its load of thick hot cream. It sprayed the tattered remains of her cherry and soothed the reopened wounds.

Floyd kissed Angelique's fluttering lips and drove his tongue into her mouth. She gurgled and moaned, delirious as her second climax of the day began. The nun sucked on his meaty tongue and wrung his thick gushing prick with her strained cunt.

Monk watched them part lips and wail in rapture while he outfitted his cock to be next. He slipped a pliant band of rubber over the blood-gorged knob. From that sprouted three semi-rigid tines that transformed his cock into a devil's pitchfork.

Angelique quaked and cried out when she saw the hideous appliance that extended the already impressive length of his cock. Each of the rubber tines was fitted with a triangular barbed tip.

"The forked head of my big cock will really thrill you," Monk said. "It'll do things even Brannigan's warped cock won't."

She cast a sorrowful, fear-crazed glance at the three-headed cock aimed at her cunt. "Oh, please ... let me go. Don't put that awful thing in me!" she begged.

"I said only the devil himself would want you after this, and we figure this is what the devil's prick must look like."

The pretty blonde shuddered and couldn't bear to look. Monk had climbed up on the raised altar bed and was aiming his three-pronged cock extender at her pussy.

He had to press the three rubber-barbed tines together to fit them in. Angelique howled in torment. The barbs weren't sharp enough to scar flesh, but did maul it terribly, spreading apart inside her when Monk released his grasp.

The leering gang leader bent over her and pushed deeper. Angelique winced from the pain and bit her lip so hard that it started to bleed. Only then did she remember Monk's crazed hunger for blood.

He planted a lip-smacking kiss on her quivering mouth and sucked her injured lower lip. At the same time, his rough hands capped her creamy tits, fingers whirling around her pink nipple tips to reopen the wounds made yesterday by his razor-sharp knife.

The pain of her raw wounds and his brutal stimulation were almost more than her senses could endure. Angelique felt dizzy and weak, numb in her chained hands and feet. Three springy prongs passed over the tattered remnants of her cherry and sent another agonizing jolt firing into her skull.

Angelique's eyes clamped tightly shut, but she saw exploding rockets in her mind. Bursts of red, white and blue-blazing pain that sparked and flared hotly. Her singed nerves jangled.

"Stop, don't push that awful thing any deeper!"

Monk laughed. "I've barely got my cock in you. We got a good ten inches to go."

She cringed and began to pray. "Oh, merciful God in heaven, forgive my sins and spare me this brutal abuse-"

"No sense praying to God, Angelique. You're off his list forever. Pray louder and maybe Satan will hear you!"

"That's blasphemy!" she hissed.

"You'll pray to him if you want relief in this church, Sister. This is Satan's Sanctuary!"

Monk powered in another three inches of cock and sank the trident head of the rubber pussy-teaser to spread and stimulate her wringing, tight cunthole as nothing ever had before.

She gasped strangled cries and babbled frantic pleas for relief. The words came out muffled because Monk was sucking ghoulishly on her lower lip.

"Are you begging Satan to spare you more pain?" Monk asked with a twisted grin.

"No, I'll never do that!"

"Then you must want his three-pronged spear driven into your pussy deeper!"

Angelique whimpered, but still refused to pray to Satan. Monk rammed his cock to the hairy root with a grunt. The three-pronged tip of the obscene extender reached the end of her cunt and pushed into the wider cavern of her womb. There the three pronged tips sprang apart.

She moaned, stunned by the stinging shock and the quivering motion so deep within her.

Monk drew back, watching her pain-wracked face with a twisted grin curling his lips. Withdrawing his cock pulled the springy tines slowly back into the sleeve of her cunt, forcing the prongs together.

"You want me to drive it in and let them spring open again?" he asked coldly.

"No, please have mercy!"

"Don't talk to me. Talk to him." Monk nodded toward the fire gushing from Satan's head on the wall.

"Oooooh, Satan ... I pray to you. Show mercy for this poor sinner! Don't make me suffer in hell on this earth!"

From the back of the fiery mask came a deep voice amplified to the point of eerie distortion.

"You must repent!" the booming satanic voice said. "Suffer in anguish for your hypocrisy!"

Monk leered down at her and rammed the three-headed cock into her womb. It sprang open and brought a scream to her lips.

"Hungh! Oh, dear Satan in hell below ... please accept me as your eternal slave!"