Ana's Sin

Chapter 4

Hell's Angel

Copyright 2017

*

"I confess to almighty God

and to you, my brothers and sisters,

that I have greatly sinned..."

But this time she was interrupted.

"What have you done now?"

She told him everything while sitting naked inside the confession booth, sweating from the heat of hell, where she would surely burn.

And so she told him about Virginia and James, and confessed it all, while she touched her shaved pussy in the confession booth. It took a while to tell the whole tale, and by that time she had brought herself to a silent orgasm.

"Ana, this behavior ... you are going down a dark path. Why must learn to bring your sexual passions under control!"

"I try, Father, but I cannot!"

He came out of his booth and went into hers. For a moment, she felt the thrill of his eyes on her naked, sweaty body. His eyes drank in the sight of her.

But then he yanked her out of the booth naked, and threw her out into the open. He took her purse and dress and kept them.

"Go! Walk in shame before the sepulcher as you are. Let yourself burn with shame before out Lord."

She hugged herself in the open sanctuary, stunned by her sudden exposure. This she had not expected. Her nipples hardened in the cool air. There was not another soul there, but at any moment someone could walk in.

Ana walked toward the dais, down the central aisle, then remembered to bend one knee and make the sign of the cross.

"Pray for penance for the next two hours, and I will absolve you. Your clothes and purse will be here, at the back."

She did so. On her knees, she prayed earnestly for God to intervene, to help her overcome the lusts she felt, and stop the awful, sinful thoughts that ran through her head.

For two hours, or whenever Father Murphy's hand fell on her shoulder, her dress in one hand, and a strange gleam in his eyes.

"Go!"

What a sight she must have been, utterly naked, bathed in the colors of the stained glass windows and sunbeams on her bare, dark Hispanic skin, and black hair.

Thinking on how she must have looked in his eyes ... aroused her.

---

Friday after work, it was time to return to her home in Cerrillos for the weekend, and to Tom Hardy. Her new AWD convertible Nissan Murano was fast and powerful, and she liked driving it in her white cotton band held by a gold hoop, and short little fluffy white skirt, letting her skin bronze even more.

Ana ignored the stares she got. It still make her painfully self-conscious to wear such little clothing. But she willed herself to wear them, and to go without panties. Feeling air on her pussy made her so aroused. Especially when freshly shaved for Tom Hardy.

Her hair began to turn auburn in the sun, as if she had a little bit of gringo in her. It waved in the wind as she drove through Tijeras Canyon, and then north along Highway 14, skirting the backside slope of the Sandia Mountains.

She stopped at the Shell in San Antonio for gas, putting on her wedge high-heels and getting out of the care carefully, as not to reveal her vagina to the world. Her flat stomach was becoming more muscular since running, and trying to beat Dwayne. But she lost every time, and every time she let him fuck her in the ass and cum deep into her rectum.

It was good practice for the weekend. She had a taste of anal sex with John Paul and his friends. That deep, aching penetration and total loss of control, pushed to the brink, until a new kind of orgasm would explode throughout her body.

Her pussy got wet, and she moved the muscles of her anus in anticipation as she walked. Horny and hungry, as Tom commanded her to be. She had not eaten for two days, and it was taking all of her will not to buy something inside the gas station.

"I want you so famished that you will lap up cum like a dog," Tom had told her.

Booze to the right of the store, beer in the back, so she picked up some of both. She had to be careful bending over, and squatted to keep her treasure hidden. The naughty sense of freedom was thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

Your becoming a whore, Ana!

Buying the liquor and beer, she went back to her car, and finished gassing up. The afternoon heat was beginning to cool, promising a warm but comfortable night.

She continued driving up the highway to her parents' old house. Tom's motorcycle was already parked in her driveway, and she felt a thrill of excitement, and dread, at what was coming next.

He had come to collect.

The front door was open, the smell of home comforting. She threw her keys in a crystal bowl and walked into the circular living room tower, where Tom lied on the couch waiting for her.

"Undress and shower," he said.

She was his bitch now, and she complied. She dropped the skirt on the floor and put it on the couch, and then undid the strap of her small band, and dropped that next. Then she slipped out of her high heels. She found she was trembling as he looked her up and down.

"Go shower."

Outside in her private courtyard, she had installed a simple shower on a wooden platform. It was wonderful for the summer months, and she used that. The water felt wonderful, and she took her time cleaning her body thoroughly. She had shaved already, so she didn't have to worry about that.

Grabbing a towel, she walked back into the living room to dry up, and then put the towel over a chair to dry. Trembling, she stood naked before Tom. It looked like he had been making drinks.

"Have a seat, and drink this. Tell me about your last couple of weeks. Everything OK?"

She sat down, and crossed her legs to be less naked, and took the glass on the table next to her. She smelled it. Beer, whiskey, and lemon? She tasted it cautiously, and found that the beer and lemon masked the whiskey very well. She took a long drink, and hunger drove her to drink even more.

"Looks like someone came and seized the photos in question. John Paul has disappeared. Though my ... coworkers are freaks."

"Lisa Morgan? I know her personally. She knows you are mine, but will try to provoke me through you. Harmless fun. Has she fucked any men in front of you yet?"

She turned red, as he clearly knew far more about the universtiy than she did. "Yes. She ordered it, and threatened my job."

"And you did as you were told, I take it?"

"Yes. I had no choice. And your British friends, too."

Tom smiled mischievously. "You handled James and Virginia very well. They were pleased."

She said nothing as she realized Tom was turning her into a whore to be used at will.

"You always have a choice, Ana. But you want others to make the decisions for you about sexuality. You don't trust yourself, and are ashamed of your ... desires."

She began trembling even more, and hadn't realized she was covering her breasts. She forced herself to put her hands to her side and face this bravely, and be proud of her tits. But she did not answer. She felt a buzz coming on, her empty stomach filled now with booze.

"Since you were a little girl, I knew there was something different about you, Ana. Not something I could think of while you were a child. I'm not into children. But I am into women with very strong sexual passions. They are rare. You are rare indeed."

"I'm just another puta!"

"There are three kinds of whores, by my estimation," he replied, as calm as silk in a light breeze, and his powerful voice like a snake. If the bearish Tom Hardy were a vampire, she would believe she was being glamoured.

"One kind of whore, are those who are desperate, and have been exploited. Women who for whatever reason have fallen into a bad life of drugs and addiction. If they are lucky, they might become titty-shakers and maybe escape. Pimps exploit them, and until they find the will to resist, and the courage to take control, it will likely end badly for them. You are not that kind of whore, are you? Do you have any addictions?"

She thought about it. Could she fall into such a life? A hooker on the streets? Did she have addictions? She did not think so. And she knew she had no addictions, besides maybe coffee. And perhaps ... sex itself. The thing she was ashamed to admit to herself. She shook her head.

"The second kind of whore is one who is in full control of her life, and merely chose to use her body to make money. Students, call girls, professionals. They like sex normally more than the average girl, but not always. They do what they must to better their lives and get a legitimate career in the end, or run their own escort service. Are you that kind of whore? Or rather, could you be that kind of whore?"

She thought about it. Do it for money? Maybe. She found that she was not sure. She was also getting very buzzed and relaxed, too.

"You don't know. Well then, on to the last kind of whore. The promiscuous nymphomaniac who cannot control herself. A dangerous thing for a woman. Such a girl should not marry, unless her husband is into sharing. Such a woman can be taken advantage of by men who can exploit her weakness. Sometimes she might seize her destiny and become the second kind of whore, and make good money satisfying her insatiable lusts."

He stared at her, and she looked down, unsure what to think. Was this her? Was she such a freak of nature? Ever since she was thirteen she's had naughty, shameful thoughts that made her hate herself.

She found she could not speak.

"I know you are the third. And if you don't manage it, you'll wind up in trouble. As you almost did Pyke. Most men cannot handle a woman like you. They either abuse her, because they believe she will never be loyal or make a good mother or wife. Or they become jealously obsessed and try to break such a woman of her spirit."

The cost had been high to get rid of Pyke and his friends. After that one night, they had wanted more, and more, and more of her. That could not end well.

"I am a man who takes the first kind of whore, and makes her into the second kind, or gets her out entirely. I am a man who takes the third kind of whore, and makes her into the second kind. My clients are very professional, and very different. You will have fun, make money, and never have to worry about catching a disease or being stalked. You will have the best of both worlds."

He smiled, and then stood up.

"But enough of that. You sold your soul to me. And now I am your protector."

He began to get undressed, and Ana knew the time had come to serve her new master. She watched, terrified and trembling as items of clothes came off of him. He smiled like Old Spice and oak, a smell that reminded her of papa. His blue eyes never left hers.

Tom was surprisingly well-tanned, and not the pale gringo she had imagined. He was fat, but not in a grotesque way. He was hurry, adding to his bearish appearance. But he was huge and muscular as well, a giant of a man even naked before her.

And then he dropped his boxers, and she gasped.

She thought she had seen big dicks before. But this was the Elephant in the Room. It hung low and long, longer than she had ever seen. Ten inches? What would it be like hard?

And his balls were unbelievable. Two tennis-balls easily in size, a freak of masculine nature.

"Oh my God," she said.

He grinned. "We'll take it slow."

He got to his knees and grabbed her legs, then open them. She felt much more than merely naked before him. Her very soul seemed naked. When his mouth found her pussy, she gasped at the pleasure of it. He just dove right in, finding her clitoris and suckling on it, and his tongue going inside her.

With one hand he began to finger-fuck her as he licked and sucked, driving her crazy already. She could not get the size of his cock out of her mind. It would be painful, and yet she wanted it so bad. The man might be in his late forties or fifties, but he was a stallion.

She looked down at his face between her legs, her ass on the edge of the couch, her breasts rising and falling with her gasps, her mouth partied in ecstasy.

And intense orgasm made her arch her back and cry out, and her toes curled and then splayed. She gripped the sofa pillows around her, and threw her head back.

"Mamma Mia!"

Then he stopped, and rose to his full height like a god, and now fully erect. Her eyes locked on the sight of him. A fat, hurry monster that promised deeper pleasure and pain than she had ever known. Images of herself being at his mercy only made her shudder.

"Let your instincts guide you. You have to want it down your throat. Mind over matter."

He grabbed her hair with one hand, and held his cock level with her face with the other. She opened her mouth for him, and played with his enormous balls with her hand, feeling their weight.

It was way too thick for her mouth. But alcohol, horniness, and curiosity of what such a huge cock in her throat would feel like, smoothed the way.

It was brutal. He showed no mercy as he plowed it down her throat, her mouth stretched to its limits, her jaw hurting. He fucked her face, balls slapping her chin. It was horrendous and terrifying, and whatever pleasure she derived from it vanished.

"You're panicking," he said gently, pulling it out of her mouth and holding her chin up. "Relax. Take both hands and hold it."

She gave him a sloppy, wet blowjob, her hands together keeping his enormous, uncircumcised cock going too far down her throat. Her jaw could not take anymore, but he hammed away, holding her head by her hair formly.

The explosion of cum into her mouth was unexpected. She gagged, coughed, and drowned as it shot down the back of her throat and filled her mouth. He grunted as he held his cock in her mouth, cuming, and cuming, and cuming.

She swallowed what she could, but when he finally pulled out, it dribbled out of her mouth and down her chin, and between her tits. It splattered on her thighs as well.

He pushed her back on the couch and ejaculated even more cum on her stomach and tits, squeezing the last of it out. She was a mess again, sweaty and soiled with sin, hair frazzled from his abuse.

Then he sat next to her, and took her into his arms like he was a lover, or father. He held her, and stroked her hair.

"I know that was rough. But that is what my clients pay for. Defiled innocence. You did very well."

Later, he made her another drink, and she gladly drank it, and washed the taste of his raw masculinity down her throat. It soothed the soreness as well, and helped her jaw relax.

"Put your high-heels on, and that black choker I've seen you with. Nothing else."

She got up, staggered about a little, and did as she was told. "You want me to shower again?"

"No."

Then he began getting dressed.

"You haven't used my pussy yet," she said, shocked by her boldness.

"I'm going to pimp it out tonight, baby. Now let's go. It's dark, and I'll take you to meet some good friends and break you in."

---

He made her ride his bike naked, holding him from behind as he raced down dark, obscure highways she did not recognize. Drunk, she held on for her life, fearing what would happen if she fell off of a motorcycle butt naked. Just a black studded choker and black open-toed high-heels, and nothing else.

She had never felt more vulnerable or thrilled, terrified or numb. Tom Hardy rode into the night like a madman, and then stopped at someone's house in the middle of the desert.

Several cars were parked, and oud music played from inside. It was a party, and her she was naked and being dragged into it. Tom had a leach, and snapped it to her choker. Then he took a zip tie and cuffed her hands behind her back.

"Hey, I didn't sign up for this!"

"Speak only when spoken to," he said with a voice that promised violence.

Anger welled up inside her, as this was not what she had agreed to! Or had it? Her mind swam in alcohol, and who knows what else he may have put in her drink.

With the leash, he pulled her along like a dog. She was a dog, she realized. She had behaved like an animal, defying her God, her Church, and her traditions, and let herself be used. This was the cost of her sin, to be defiled and used like a whore.

Inside the house she saw it was made of stone, and rustic with a central fireplace, horned animals on the walls, oak furniture, a stone floor with thick, fur carpets, and several men who had been drinking, laughing, and molesting their female friends who squealed and giggled.

And then they saw her, and stopped.

"Gentlemen, we have a new recruit."

"A fucking spic?"

Tom gave him a hard look, and sneered. "Respect, you skinhead bastard. I won't have this shit. Her name is Ana Rodriguez of Cerrillos. I know her daddy, and am sworn to protect her."

A few chuckled, others laughed.

"Then why in the fuck did you bring her here?"

He pushed her towards a couch, and she spun and fell into it, then bent her legs up and tried to be discreet. Ana was more terrified than she ever had been in her life.

"Training."

---

Two hours of being fucked and cum on had followed. They had not been merciful as men got to their knees, spread her legs, and fucked her pussy.

Then they would pull out and cum on her tits, or stomach, or face. Some made her open her mouth so they could cum in that, too. She had no idea how many men had been there, but they each took turns and used her.

Two men would get on each side of her on the couch as well, rubbing their cocks, and making her suck on them as she was fucked. Her jaw hurt, but the alcohol they kept making her drink helped.

Her stomach churned with cum now. And more than a few guys had no pulled out, and she felt cum inside her pussy. She was terrified of being pregnant, as she would never know which fucker knocked her up.

Then they started using her ass, and she screamed in pain at first. Then the screams turned to grunts, and then the grunts turned to groans. And finally, her groaning turned into moaning, for they had made her orgasm more than once that way.

She was fucked doggy-style in the ass, each man mounting her and taking his turn, then draining their nuts into her rectum.

Now on the motorcycle, hanging on for her life, drunker than ever and covered in dried sperm, she wondered where he was taking her next. Home, she hoped. But did she hope this?

Ana had lost count of how many times she had come.

And then they came to another house in the middle of nowhere, a mobile home this time. Trailer trash.

The men inside were poor, but surprisingly fit. She was introduced to them, all war veterans who had fought with Tom in the Gulf War.

"Meats back on the menu, boys. Dark meat, this time!"

And they didn't care that she had been gang-banged already, or was covered in cum from a score of other men. They just started rutting on her, happily pumping away into her pussy or ass.

They didn't even attempt to pull out of her pussy, and it was filled again and again with sperm. She was too drunk to run away or resist, and yet strangely alert.

"I put something in your drink that will help you remember all of this. And how much you enjoyed it."

---

It seemed like she was taken to a third house, where she had been bathed this time. And then lied on the couch, legs spread, and available for young teens who were playing on an X-box.

Gamers. A bunch of young gamers. Tom was the worst of them, holding his own on Black Ops III or some other games, but usually getting his ass kicked by one of the younger men.

She even played when invited to, and she was a kid again. Though buzzing hard, the combination of relaxed muscles and an alert mind made her play better.

And then as casually as taking a piss, one of the young men would fuck her however he wanted. A fast, hard, merciless fucking to relieve the pressure of young balls. Even while she was playing the game, one guy had scooted her ass to the edge of the couch, spread her legs, and began plowing into her pussy as she stilled played the game against another boy.