Pastor's Peter

It was the end of Summer Bible School and I was wiped out. The kids in my class had been willing to anything to get out of listening to a 20 minute bible lesson. It was a relief to watch them finally walk out the doors with their parents, never to return again.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish," I said to myself, tearing down the last of the themed decorations. Groaning at my sore back, I began hauling the regular furniture back into the room. After setting up the last of the wall hangings, it dawned on me that the heavy metal table was still mashed up against the wall.

"Crap."

"Hello? Is anyone still down there?"

I groaned again to myself as I heard the voice of Pastor Peter float down the stairs.

"I am going to shut off the lights. If you're there, speak up!"

"Keep them on! I'm still down here," I exclaimed as loudly as possible. While not afraid of the dark, the downstairs switch was a good distance from the pool of light coming from my open door. Chairs were strewn all over the hallway from rooms half put back together. The idea of sprawling over one was not exactly appealing to me.

Going to the back of the room, I began to lug the heavy table towards the middle of the room. Almost to my destination, I heard a knock at the door. Turning, I saw Pastor Peter leaning on the door frame with an amused look on his face. I was not pleased to see him. The little shit hadn't done anything during the entire week except snap pictures on his fancy digital camera. He seemed to be in my classroom an inordinate amount of time pointing the damn lens at me and distracting the kids from the daily lesson. Even in the more public spaces upstairs it appeared that he was where ever I was. It was beginning to creep me out.

"Need a hand with that load," asked my minister.

Glancing at the short, wiry figure, I mutely nodded my head and turned back to the unyielding mass of steel. Paster Peter was a first year minister and this was his first placement out of seminary. He was young, only 24, and married with two small children. Short, with slim arms and dark black hair, he wasn't ugly, but he certainly didn't enter my mind when I was desperate for release at night. His offer to help move the table was almost laughable as I towered over him a good 8 inches and had about 50 pounds on him.

Being alone in the room quickly made me uneasy. As we finally tugged the table to its final location, I caught him trying to peek at my breasts through the neckline of my dress shirt. This was hardly the first time, and it irritated me to no end. I had tried being friendly to him and his wife when they first arrived to my small town. As time wore on, his wife grew distant and Pastor Peter began to hound me about joinging this committee or that group, and hung around my conversations with others after church. When shaking hands at the end of each service, he would lean into me more than necessary or stand way too close to me to talk. It was getting old.

I left the room to grab the short chairs lining the hallway wall. Upon entering, I found Pastor Peter standing in front of the table, legs spread apart, and a smile on his face. Then I noticed that the fly of his dress pants was open and a 8" penis was languidly swinging free. The words that came out of his mouth stopped me cold.

"Excuse me, did you just tell me to fuck you??" I could feel my face go beet red and then drain.

"Absolutely," came his reply.

What color was left in my face quickly sank to my toes. Dropping the chairs in my hands I began to beat a hasty retreat out the door. Intent on making my way upstairs to my car outside, I didn't hear his footsteps closing in behind me.

The hand around my mouth was far less terror invoking than the hand that molded itself around my left breast in a vice-like grasp. Twisting around and out of his reach, I put my hands up to shielf myself.

"Don't you ever do that to me again. You have no right to touch me, let alone grope me," I managed out of me clenched teeth.

His phallis began to harden and stand up as a grin spread across his face.

"Oh, but I do have the right. And after watching you swish that fine ass of yours all over the church this week, I intend to do just that."

Paster Peter took a step closer to me. Instinctively, I took a step back, then cursed myself. I had just walked right up against the concrete block wall.

Trapped.

Shit.

Moving like a jaguar, Pastor Peter grabbed my hands, shoved them over my head and slammed his body against mine. His face was centimeters away from mine and I could smell his aftershave mixed with that night's themed snack.

My heart was in my throat but I managed to croak out something that sounded like:

"Why are you doing this?"

Grinding his stiff member against my thigh, Pastor Peter let out a moan and then spoke.

"Because I want to and so do you."

He was so matter-of-fact about it that if I had not been so terrified, I would have laughed.

"And exactly why do you think I want this," I squeaked. His grip was beginning to hurt my wrists and the feeling in my fingers was starting to fade away.

"Every week I watch you saunter into this building. Every week you tempt me with your hips, your ass, even your lips. Don't tell me those pouty lips of yours aren't for me. And those necklines showing me just a peek of the firm breasts beneath? You do that for me too, don't you?" The grinding continued as he began to nuzzle the side of my throat.

"What about your wife? You can't seriously think you can cheat on her! You're a minister for God's sake!"

That last statement sealed my fate. I could feel his whole body tense up in a sudden start. He whipped his head up from my neck at glared at me with eyes gone red with rage.

"Don't you EVER take the Lord's name in vain! I will teach you a lesson you'll never forget!"

With that, he yanked on my arms and hauled me back into the classroom I had just fled.

It was suprising just how strong a person can be when he or she is seriously pissed. He dragged me into the room like I weighed nothing more than his 3 year old son. Digging my heels into the carpet did nothing but postpone the inevitable.

Slamming my hands onto the table we had just moved, Paster Peter forced my upper body to bend over the edge while my knees buckled to the floor. Quickly flipping me over, he grabbed my face and squeezed my cheeks against my teeth. When my mouth opened a tiny bit from the intense pressure, he slammed his entire throbbing cock into my mouth.

Oh my God! He's fucking my mouth! My minister is raping my mouth!

I struggled to get his hot member out of me. Managing to come out of shock long enough to push myself off the table with my hands, I vainly tried to stand up.

"Oh, you think you're getting off that easy? Not so fast my little whore. You're gonna fuck me with your mouth until I blow into it! Get back down!"

The sudden pain to my mid section took my breath away. Gasping for air, I doubled up in a ball on the floor. He had kneed me in the stomach to wind me. In the time it took me to regain normal breathing, Pastor was out of the room and back again with a lenght of rope. Weak from the lack of oxygen, I could only feebly motion for him to stop his assault on my body. It only made him laugh.

With what appeared to be no effort on his part, Pastor lifted me off of the floor and onto the table. Then he tied my hands and ankles to a table leg. I was spread eagle and couldn't move.

Climbing over me in the 69 position, Pastor Peter lowered his pulsing manhood over my pressed lips.

"Suck me, bitch. Let me cum into that dirty little mouth of yours."

Of course, I did the only thing I could think of. I gently took his filthy cock in my mouth and then bit it with everything I had!

The howl of rage and pain that eminated from his throat was satisfaction on a silver platter...for about half a second.

The instant pain that erupted from my jaw was bewildering. I actually blacked out for a while. How long it lasted, I don't know, but it was enough time for Pastor to render my pants, underwear, shirt and bra useless so I was completely exposed to him. When I came to, his penis was already back in my mouth sliding in and out with a frantic rythmn of a man possessed.

I was not a virgin at that time. I had learned to love giving head to my fiancee and even let him pop my cherry in college. But when our relationship soured and we went our separate ways, my sex life came to a screeching halt. It had been years since I had taken a cock in my mouth or my pussy.

Yet here I was, in a dank, dark church basement getting mouth fucked by my married minister.

God, my life sucked.

A groan from above gave me a split second warning that the Pastor was about to cum. Feeling his cock harden even further, I steeled myself for the onslaught of his invading seed. His cock twitched once, twice, and then erupted into me. The first shot went directly into my throat. The second and third filled my mouth with a disgusting flavor of salt and sweaty, unwashed genitals. I was sure I could taste his wife's cunt on him, too. The fourth shot overflowed my lips and it spilled onto my chin, dripping down onto my chest.

Pastor Peter collapsed onto me, fully pressing me down onto the table even further. I turned my head to the side and quietly spit out as much of his disgusting white sperm as possible. I could feel that first shot slowly slide down my throat into my stomach. The only satisfaction I could gain was knowing my stomach acids would quickly deal with the foreign invaders.

I laid still for what seemed like an eternity. Pastor's body shook with the after shocks of his orgasm. His breathing was ragged and his full weigh was supported by my body. The hard table surface was painfully pressing against my spine. Although I tried to keep them at bay, this quiet moment allowed enough of the situation to bring tears to my eyes.

My sniff alerted Pastor to my agony. Turning his body so that his mouth was hovering over mine, he gently kissed my tear-streaked cheek. His hands began to move over my tense body, roaming over my firm breasts. Finding my nipples, his fingers tweeked at them bringing them to full attention. He moved his head to my collarbone and licked the skin while his palms massaged my taunt nipples.

Tiring of this gentle foreplay, Pastor lifted his head and grinned at me.

"Wasn't that fun," he asked, leering into my eyes. "You always wanted to suck my cock and feel my seed shower your tongue."

The tears instantly dried up. I tried to contain the fury and fear beginning to well up inside me.

"Get off of me, creep. What do you think your wife will say when I tell her you raped me down here?"

Pastor laughed heartily. His fingers began another assault on my erect nipples to the point of being painful. Then his hands encased both of my breasts and squeezed hard. I yelped.

"That hurts! Stop it! GET OFF!"

"I fully intend to do just that," Pastor smirked. "Get off, that is. Your mouth is wonderful in its own right. I wonder how that pussy of yours will feel? Oh, you didn't think I was going to neglect that, did you," he asked as my eyes widened. "No, my dirty little girl, we're going to have fun filling that hole up to its brink with my seed."

"WHAT?? You could get me pregnant, you bastard," I cried, straining against the ropes that bound me. I was on the pill and knew the likelihood of conceiving was small, but the chance was still there.

"No matter to me," was the simple statement. Immediately, Pastor got up off of me. The sudden absence of his weight was an instant relief. My hip bones and breasts sighed at the release of pressure. Watching him shed his pants sent a shiver of revulsion down my body. I actually started to gag, knowing that he was going to put that filthy, married member of his in between my legs.

His hands gently slid between my legs, feeling the slit of my woman's entrance. I was bone dry from fear. A smile crept across his face.

"Ah, a nice tight, dry cunt. Mmmmmm...that will be a new experience. My wife has a pussy that drips every time I look in her direction. While I appreciate that she's turned on, a little friction is a nice change of pace."

A little friction? Oh dear heaven, he's going to split me in two and rub me raw inside out! I wimpered at the thought.

Pastor's head jerked up from his reverie.

"I'm sorry, is that frightening you?" The sarcasm just rolled off of his voice. "You should have thought about that before you started tempting me with all of your little assets."

Raising his body from the floor, I saw that the member swinging from his groin was no longer just an 8" dick. It has grown in length to 10 inches, a 3 inch width and changed to a hideous red-purple color. Satan's penis couldn't have been more terrifying. To top is all off, the uncircumsized beast was drooling pre-cum from its gaping eye. I closed my eyes and tried to mentally drift off.

Anywhere but here. The beach. The library. The sactuary upstairs. But please, not here! I had almost succeeded in letting my brain go far away when the monster nudged my quivering folds.

"Ah, little whore. You're going to be blessed like no other. Prepare for your pentinance. I'm going to fuck you until you're nailed to the wall!"

With that, Pastor Peter gripped my hips, and thrust his drooling, trembling penis deep inside my unwilling cunt. In one push, his shaft was buried so entirely into me that his balls slapped my butt cheeks on impact.

I screamed with absolute and excruciating pain. It felt like a white-hot fence post had been shoved into my womb. I was certain I would die before the night was over.

Then, in a strangled voice, Pastor Peter gasped out "I didn't know you were a virgin!".

This halted the next scream in my throat. A virgin? No, I hadn't been a virgin for years. But then I felt a feather-light sensation slide down from my pussy lips to the table below me. Apparently my former fiancee had never been able to penetrate my hymen.

"Well, that explains why I never bled." The thought was so out of place, so mundane that I couldn't help but laugh. The abdurdity of it all was more than I could hold in. My fiancee took my innocence, but couldn't break the seal while my married minister cracked me open when he raped me.

My laughter infuriated Pastor Peter. He back-handed me across the face, slamming me back to reality.

"Don't you dare laugh, bitch! This isn't supposed to be fun for you!"

Taking this as his cue, Pastor began to frantically pull out and push back in. His penis was hot, hard and throbbing. Everytime it slip back into me, it felt like it was entering the womb itself. I could feel the veins massaging my dry vaginal walls. The friction was unlike anything I could describe. The pain was entire and all-consuming. Because I was so dry, every pull and push of his skin-encased steel rod created a sucking sensation that drove Pastor wild. Faster and faster he pushed. Harder and harder he drilled into me.

It was becoming harder and harder to release my mind and find a safe spot in my brain. The frantic motions of Pastor's hips shook my body and scraped me against the table top. His hard penis rubbed every crevice of my vagina. The pubic hairs on his stomach scratched against my clitoris, scraping the sensitive flesh with every stroke.

It felt like I was being rubbed with sandpaper on the outside and poked with a tree stump inside. Never did I manage to create any sort of lubrication. Fear kept me from summoning up any sort of liquid that could minimize the damage.

Finally, after eternity and a day, Pastor Peter finally tensed his body. I knew his orgasm was coming and could do nothing to stop him from sending his filty seed into my womb.

"Take....This....You...Whore," he yelled down to me. Striking like a snake, his hands flew up to grab my breasts and squeezed. His weight shifted as he milked my chest. He opened his moouth again and let out a groan.

I could feel his cock twitch once...twice. It lengthened more in an attempt to get closer to my cervix and my uterus. And then he came. A blisteringly hot spew left his cock and entered my pussy. One shot. Two shots. Three shots. Four shots. As the sperm left its origin, Pastor ground his throbbing member deeper into me. My dry opening was now screaming for him to leave. With the loads of cum finally arrived some sense of relief. The liquid eased my parched walls and afforded me a small comfort. However, this also let him slide in and out of me faster and harder a few times before his vile cock finally lost some of its starch. He gyrated his hips against my pelvic bones until the penis finally withered away into nothingness and it fell out of me with a sickening "plop."

I groaned involuntarily as the relief spread from my cervix to my pussy lips. I could feel the sperm begin to slide out from between my legs. The firming jelly-like substance fell away from my body and onto the table.

"Yeah, I knew you wanted me. You liked it, didn't you? Go on, you can admit it to me. Tell your minister how good it felt to have his stiff cock in your dirty pussy."

His crooning voice slid up to my ear. His wet tongue flicked at the opening. Teeth dragged over my earlobes. Hands resumed their pawing at my breasts. I kept my eyes and mouth closed, willing him to be done with me.

He wasn't quite finished. Leaving my ears, his mouth wandered southward and replaced his right hand on my left breast. He began to suckle it, gently at first. It almost seemed like he was woshipping it. His lips sucked until my nipple was erect. Then he gently bathed it with his tongue over and over again. He did this for several minutes and I began to wonder if maybe he was coming off of his post-rape after glow.

Then he bit me. Hard.

I shrieked in pain!

Jumping up and back on top of me, Pastor Peter allowed me a quick glimpse of his erect penis before he shoved it back into me. This time, with my pussy wet from his ejaculation, the pain was less, but the humiliation was complete. The tears flowed from my eyes has he slipped in and out. In and out. In and out. In and out. In little more than five strokes, Pastor's cock had risen from the dead and was once again stroking my pussy. On the seventh stroke, it lengthened, widened and began to twitch. I waited for his hot cum to fill me again. It was not long before he threw back his head, groaned, and spilled into me again. After his dick was finished using my pussy, he calmly dragged his semi-hard out of me, wiped it clean between my breasts, cut the cords that bound me, and walked out the door.

He didn't even bother to pick up his discarded pants and underwear.

I was left alone to decide what to do. After a few minutes, I rose, left the room and walked towards the phone located in the next room. I called the police and, as calmly as possible, told my story to the stunned voice on the other end.

Pastor Peter was arrested by the end of that night. At the hospital, I was treated to a pelvic exam, swabbed several times over and photographed so much I began to feel like a porn star. Then came the preventative medications. I gagged once knowing that the bastard could have easily given me any number of diseases, plus a baby. The case worker who was assigned to me was actually a high school classmate. It was humiliating to retell the story to a girl I had known all of my life. What a perfect ending to a perfect horror story. But it wasn't over. The trial starts in two weeks, and I know I will be grilled by the defense. Every outfit ever worn, every comment ever uttered, every gesture ever made will be scrutinized. I will be painted as a whore at the worst, or at best, a sex-deprived woman who went after a man of the cloth. But I know the truth. And soon, so will everyone else.