The room smelled heavy of musk. A glimmering ribbon of liquid coalesced at the bottom of her crotch and dripped into the spreading wet spot beneath her quivering bottom. The movement of her fingers increased their tempo, her body pressed tighter against the wall as she stiffened, a low moaning wail dribbled from her parted lips climaxing in a choking prolonged shudder.
Rachel opened her eyes, moved them furtively around the room, and closed them again and relaxed. Her breath caught, in her throat as the lewd and disgusting thoughts once again spewed through her mind like the stink of some sewer run amok, the thoughts and their vileness pushed all before them. She licked her parted lips as her wet fingers once more began the now familiar private probing....
Chapter 4
An early morning haze hung in the air that smelled of cooking food and the acrid smoke of cooking fires. A parrot squawked from its perch in the tree. A green tree sloth moved in slow motion as it followed the progress of the two pedestrians as they walked thought the twin doors of the church. The church fronted the square, dating back to the first Jesuits in the area. It was a formidable structure, its thick mud brick walls laid out along traditional lines of a naive and transect representing the holy cross and built lying east to west. Better to catch the early light of morning through the church's stained glass. The glass was now covered with dust and many panes were cracked or missing.
Rachel walked quietly behind the Padre as they crossed the town square and made their way toward the communal laundry. The square was empty now. It would be busy soon enough as it was every day in the morning and evenings, the coolest parts of the day. Rachel glanced back at the church and thought of last night, and a wave of guilty hunger washed over her as she thought of how she had explored, tormented and pleased herself in the darkness of her room remembering the hungry stares of the two oriental men.
When the fat old Padre had told her she would be helping in the communal laundry, her mind filled with indignation, but her stomach pulled tight as she felt her vagina throb in a mixture of excitement and dread at the prospect of meeting the two men whose mere gaze had driven her to do things to herself that she knew were sinful and disgusting. How many times had she touched herself? Four, no five times? Her vagina felt swollen, its fullness pressed tightly against the crotch seam of her shorts. The very motion of walking was a confusing mixture or pain and pleasure. The friction and her thoughts brought a slow ooze of wetness along the lips of her vagina.
She walked as the condemned walks to the gibbet. Within her ripe body she felt the near certainty that something within her was on the verge of dying. The slow death of the fetters of pious hypocrisy had begun by her own hand last night. She saw the first glimpse of the pleasures that might await if she was freed of the restraints of archaic moral superstitions. A part of her secretly welcomed it. She knew the two filthy oriental men would be the executioners.
The heat of the square seemed to lift a bit as they neared the river and the laundry. The fat Padre ducked as he stepped under the thatched roof of the porch that served as the counter area. He peered into the gloom of the back of the hut that projected over the riverbank supported by pilings.
"Hattori, are you here?”, his voice boomed out.
"Hei", came the reply from somewhere back in the gloom.
Rachel heard the scrape of wood on wood as a shoji like door slid back revealing what looked like a storeroom off the left. An immense dark shape trundled out of the shadows ahead of a frail and wizen looking man. A black mastiff-dane mix shoved his nose up at the Padre in recognition as the old owner announced his arrival with a wracking cough hawking up a robust wad of phlegm which he spit into a dirty cloth hanging from a rope tied to his waist. Rachel shuddered not knowing if it was from the disgusting display, or the penetrating stare of the man as headdressed the Padre.
"Konichi wa, Padre san", he said in a low screech, a hint of spittle glistening on his unshaven chin. "This must be the new helper you promised". Speaking of her as if she was a new utensil.
"This is Rachel Falwell, she is here to assist in the lord's work with the villagers", the padre said.
Rachel was a full head taller than the old man. He wore loose fitting peasants garb, stained and dirty with an occasional rent and tear. His longish hair was pulled back and confined in a greasy knot at the back of his head. A few whiskers grew from his chin and upper lip. Two dark penetrating eyes stared out of an otherwise featureless oriental face. His lips cracked into a nearly toothless grin as Rachel hesitantly presented her pale hand in greeting. The old man's penetrating gaze had never lifted to Rachel's face but roamed her body as he stepped forward and presented a hand that more resembled a scarred and arthritic claw. She knew that she should feel revulsion at the touch of the man's scabby hand and his violating stare. Her stomach was turning, but it was a butterfly mixture of revulsion and nasty anticipation.
She felt naked in front of him, felt as if her were peeling the clothes from her one piece at a time, until she envisioned herself naked in front of him. Not just naked, but soul naked, helpless. Her body and mind laid bare.
She pulled her hand back but still he held it, his stare never leaving her breasts. Could he sense the firestorm of emotions consuming her mind she wondered? Her eyes darted to the Padre for assistance, but he stood smiling seeming to enjoy her distress. Hattori ran his thumb in a mockery of a caress across the back of the girl’s hand. Much to the poor girl’s distress he brought his phlegm flecked lips to the girl’s hand in a parody of a kiss. This caused Rachel's oversized nipples to blossom in an embarrassing display, as blood rushed to fill the rigid probes as her aureoles contracted in sympathy with her leaking vagina.
Rachel wanted to die as her nipples expanded in full view of the old man. His smile seemed to expand, his eyes rose to her face as if to acknowledgment her lack of physical control.
Poor beautiful Rachel's mind was a confused welter of emotions, the disgust she felt toward the old man was mirrored in the contempt she had for how her own body betrayed itself at his touch. This only seemed to cast fuel on the fire of her unexplained lust. Her rational mind fought to rise above the swirling flood, drowning in wave after wave of disgusting, forbidden and sinful feelings. All the while her flesh reveled in it, her over ripe body seemed to revel in the knowledge that a lifetime of teachings were being violated and broken, but only in her mind. She felt wave after wave of nasty pleasure course through her hungry body as her swollen clit protruded between her leaking labia like a fat tongue. Her oversized breasts swelling with the contained heat pushing her distended nipples tighter into the thin fabric revealing themselves to the old man even more.
"Rachel is eager to get started doing whatever it is she can help with", the voice of the Padre intoned.
Rachel blushed as she pulled her hand free and quickly stepped back crossing her arms self- consciously across her chest. Her clit still tingling maddeningly between her legs.
"Bueno, she can help Maria and Tahio in the washroom." Hattori grunted, appearing somewhat disappointed. "She can begin now, the work will last most of the day."
"Rachel", the old Padre said turning to her. "I will leave you here with Hattori, he will introduce you to the others." "I will be gone to another village today, but will return tonight."
With that he turned with an amused smile and started back to the church.
Rachel stood transfixed, feeling lost and venerable. To her surprise the old man looked at the broad back of the padre as he walked across the square, snorted and turned. He stopped and cast a lingering glance in Rachel's direction.
"You come with me", he said with a grin, revealing the stained remains of his teeth, the brown rotten stumps of several were the hallmark of his smile. With that he walked back into the shadows of the washhouse.
Thats all I can put up on this site. It gets to where it violates some if not all of the guidelines as far as content. I have written 80 chapters. Most of them are on the Asst...whatever archive, but not all. If you are interested in seeing the end of this magnum opus, and the 38 other stories I have completed or in the works, send me a private email to be added to my mailing list. I don't sell emails, I have just been burned by publishing my work and finding it on other pay sites or others taking credit for it on their sites. If you like it nasty and rough, things that push the envelope, try my works. I draw the line at scat and kids, but pretty much everything else goes...lol. I even write stories on request if the scenario is appealing to me, as I am currently doing with a story suggested by one of this site’s members. Its entitled, The Farmer's Slut Slave. You can let your imagination run with that...
Cheers
Toryu
Rachel opened her eyes, moved them furtively around the room, and closed them again and relaxed. Her breath caught, in her throat as the lewd and disgusting thoughts once again spewed through her mind like the stink of some sewer run amok, the thoughts and their vileness pushed all before them. She licked her parted lips as her wet fingers once more began the now familiar private probing....
Chapter 4
An early morning haze hung in the air that smelled of cooking food and the acrid smoke of cooking fires. A parrot squawked from its perch in the tree. A green tree sloth moved in slow motion as it followed the progress of the two pedestrians as they walked thought the twin doors of the church. The church fronted the square, dating back to the first Jesuits in the area. It was a formidable structure, its thick mud brick walls laid out along traditional lines of a naive and transect representing the holy cross and built lying east to west. Better to catch the early light of morning through the church's stained glass. The glass was now covered with dust and many panes were cracked or missing.
Rachel walked quietly behind the Padre as they crossed the town square and made their way toward the communal laundry. The square was empty now. It would be busy soon enough as it was every day in the morning and evenings, the coolest parts of the day. Rachel glanced back at the church and thought of last night, and a wave of guilty hunger washed over her as she thought of how she had explored, tormented and pleased herself in the darkness of her room remembering the hungry stares of the two oriental men.
When the fat old Padre had told her she would be helping in the communal laundry, her mind filled with indignation, but her stomach pulled tight as she felt her vagina throb in a mixture of excitement and dread at the prospect of meeting the two men whose mere gaze had driven her to do things to herself that she knew were sinful and disgusting. How many times had she touched herself? Four, no five times? Her vagina felt swollen, its fullness pressed tightly against the crotch seam of her shorts. The very motion of walking was a confusing mixture or pain and pleasure. The friction and her thoughts brought a slow ooze of wetness along the lips of her vagina.
She walked as the condemned walks to the gibbet. Within her ripe body she felt the near certainty that something within her was on the verge of dying. The slow death of the fetters of pious hypocrisy had begun by her own hand last night. She saw the first glimpse of the pleasures that might await if she was freed of the restraints of archaic moral superstitions. A part of her secretly welcomed it. She knew the two filthy oriental men would be the executioners.
The heat of the square seemed to lift a bit as they neared the river and the laundry. The fat Padre ducked as he stepped under the thatched roof of the porch that served as the counter area. He peered into the gloom of the back of the hut that projected over the riverbank supported by pilings.
"Hattori, are you here?”, his voice boomed out.
"Hei", came the reply from somewhere back in the gloom.
Rachel heard the scrape of wood on wood as a shoji like door slid back revealing what looked like a storeroom off the left. An immense dark shape trundled out of the shadows ahead of a frail and wizen looking man. A black mastiff-dane mix shoved his nose up at the Padre in recognition as the old owner announced his arrival with a wracking cough hawking up a robust wad of phlegm which he spit into a dirty cloth hanging from a rope tied to his waist. Rachel shuddered not knowing if it was from the disgusting display, or the penetrating stare of the man as headdressed the Padre.
"Konichi wa, Padre san", he said in a low screech, a hint of spittle glistening on his unshaven chin. "This must be the new helper you promised". Speaking of her as if she was a new utensil.
"This is Rachel Falwell, she is here to assist in the lord's work with the villagers", the padre said.
Rachel was a full head taller than the old man. He wore loose fitting peasants garb, stained and dirty with an occasional rent and tear. His longish hair was pulled back and confined in a greasy knot at the back of his head. A few whiskers grew from his chin and upper lip. Two dark penetrating eyes stared out of an otherwise featureless oriental face. His lips cracked into a nearly toothless grin as Rachel hesitantly presented her pale hand in greeting. The old man's penetrating gaze had never lifted to Rachel's face but roamed her body as he stepped forward and presented a hand that more resembled a scarred and arthritic claw. She knew that she should feel revulsion at the touch of the man's scabby hand and his violating stare. Her stomach was turning, but it was a butterfly mixture of revulsion and nasty anticipation.
She felt naked in front of him, felt as if her were peeling the clothes from her one piece at a time, until she envisioned herself naked in front of him. Not just naked, but soul naked, helpless. Her body and mind laid bare.
She pulled her hand back but still he held it, his stare never leaving her breasts. Could he sense the firestorm of emotions consuming her mind she wondered? Her eyes darted to the Padre for assistance, but he stood smiling seeming to enjoy her distress. Hattori ran his thumb in a mockery of a caress across the back of the girl’s hand. Much to the poor girl’s distress he brought his phlegm flecked lips to the girl’s hand in a parody of a kiss. This caused Rachel's oversized nipples to blossom in an embarrassing display, as blood rushed to fill the rigid probes as her aureoles contracted in sympathy with her leaking vagina.
Rachel wanted to die as her nipples expanded in full view of the old man. His smile seemed to expand, his eyes rose to her face as if to acknowledgment her lack of physical control.
Poor beautiful Rachel's mind was a confused welter of emotions, the disgust she felt toward the old man was mirrored in the contempt she had for how her own body betrayed itself at his touch. This only seemed to cast fuel on the fire of her unexplained lust. Her rational mind fought to rise above the swirling flood, drowning in wave after wave of disgusting, forbidden and sinful feelings. All the while her flesh reveled in it, her over ripe body seemed to revel in the knowledge that a lifetime of teachings were being violated and broken, but only in her mind. She felt wave after wave of nasty pleasure course through her hungry body as her swollen clit protruded between her leaking labia like a fat tongue. Her oversized breasts swelling with the contained heat pushing her distended nipples tighter into the thin fabric revealing themselves to the old man even more.
"Rachel is eager to get started doing whatever it is she can help with", the voice of the Padre intoned.
Rachel blushed as she pulled her hand free and quickly stepped back crossing her arms self- consciously across her chest. Her clit still tingling maddeningly between her legs.
"Bueno, she can help Maria and Tahio in the washroom." Hattori grunted, appearing somewhat disappointed. "She can begin now, the work will last most of the day."
"Rachel", the old Padre said turning to her. "I will leave you here with Hattori, he will introduce you to the others." "I will be gone to another village today, but will return tonight."
With that he turned with an amused smile and started back to the church.
Rachel stood transfixed, feeling lost and venerable. To her surprise the old man looked at the broad back of the padre as he walked across the square, snorted and turned. He stopped and cast a lingering glance in Rachel's direction.
"You come with me", he said with a grin, revealing the stained remains of his teeth, the brown rotten stumps of several were the hallmark of his smile. With that he walked back into the shadows of the washhouse.
Thats all I can put up on this site. It gets to where it violates some if not all of the guidelines as far as content. I have written 80 chapters. Most of them are on the Asst...whatever archive, but not all. If you are interested in seeing the end of this magnum opus, and the 38 other stories I have completed or in the works, send me a private email to be added to my mailing list. I don't sell emails, I have just been burned by publishing my work and finding it on other pay sites or others taking credit for it on their sites. If you like it nasty and rough, things that push the envelope, try my works. I draw the line at scat and kids, but pretty much everything else goes...lol. I even write stories on request if the scenario is appealing to me, as I am currently doing with a story suggested by one of this site’s members. Its entitled, The Farmer's Slut Slave. You can let your imagination run with that...
Cheers
Toryu
