A Christmas Story
"Adesti, fideles, laeti trimphantes . . . "
Theresa sang softly, her voice, hushed though it was, resonating through the
church. She loved Christmastide, loved the air of love and giving that came
with it. That was the meaning of Christmas, not the flashy gifts and shallow
shows of wealth. Her family didn't understand her faith, her sincere and total
love of God, of His Son. Her announcement that, when she turned 18, she planned
on becoming a novitiate, and then a bride of Christ, had been met with derision.
No matter, she thought as she approached the presence light. She may only be
sixteen now, but in two years, their laughing would be of no importance. It
hardly mattered now. Father McEwan took her seriously. He recognized and
honored her vocation, her calling. He did tease now and then, telling her how
the boys of Lawrence would declare a day of mourning when she entered the
convent. A statuesque 5'9", 122 lbs, with long, wavy red hair, soulful green
eyes, and a quick smile, she was beyond lovely; she was stunning.
She remembered the day Father McEwan gave her the keys to the church. They had
been studying together, exploring the wondrous mysteries of the faith, when she
spoke of her need for solitude with the presence, for peace and aloneness while
celebrating her faith. He understood, he pressed the keys in her hand, told her
to come when she could find that oneness with God she sought.
So here she was. Midnight, a week before Christmas. Kneeling before the altar
rail, she crossed herself, looked lovingly at the crucifix above her. Here she
knew peace, here she could offer herself to her God completely. Head bowed,
hands clasped, she settled her elbows on the railing and began to talk to God.
Totally lost in prayer, she heard nothing but the beating of her own heart.
Will pushed tentatively on the church door, smiling as it inched open silently.
Putting a finger to his lips, he shushed his pals, then nodded toward the altar.
There she was, his prissy bitch step-sister. Snotty little prayer-bitch, always
whining and posturing piously, lecturing about her God. Will remembered when
his dad had married that cunt, brought Theresa into their home. Even then, at
13 years old, Theresa had been hot, and Will had made his first move just weeks
after her arrival. Snot ran to HIS dad, and Will took the beating of his life.
Will had laid low since, just waiting for his opportunity. When she announced
she wanted to be a nun, he was almost wild with desire-his revenge would be so
much sweeter, knowing that he would be fucking her dream out of her, destroying
her plans, her vocation. Tonight, when his stepmother told him to go find her,
he knew-this was his chance. Smiling sweetly, he agreed to go find the bitch,
then called his friends. He knew where to find the little bint-and he was
finally going to have his way.
Creeping into the church, Will waved Jon, Timmy, and Donnie to one side of the
church, while Marky, and Steve crept to the other. He would go up the center
aisle. They'd rush the little bitch, snag her no matter where she turned.
Will was already painfully erect-just the idea of raping his stepsister on the
altar steps had him almost frantically aroused. "Already on her knees," he
thought, stifling a laugh, "how thoughtful of her."
Drawing closer, Will studied her form-head bowed, hands clasped, perfect little
ass jutting out above her ankles. He'd fuck that ass, sure as shit. Toss her
over the railing and slam it home while she begged her savior to help her. But,
like always, the bad guy would win, because Christ didn't give a shit-Will knew
that, had known it for years. If there was a God, a Christ, neither of them
cared what happened to sweet little girls who believe. It would be put to the
test tonight, here, in their presence.
Holding up a hand, Will stayed his friends-they were in place, it was time for
him to make his move.
"Hey, sis," he called from behind, smiling as she jumped, whirled on her knees
to look, "your mom wants you home, told me to come get you."
This was it, he knew-either she'd spot the others and freak, or she wouldn't.
He wasn't sure which he wanted, was happy with either scenario, really. She
looked frightened for a moment, then her features softened.
"Thank you, Will," she murmured low, "Let me finish my prayer."
"Sure, sis-hey, I'm a little out of practice, but would you mind if I joined
you? Feeling like maybe I need God back in my life."
Theresa's eyes brightened, a smile played around her full lips. She patted the
kneeling pad next to her, nodded happily as Will approached, knelt beside her.
"Help me out, sis," Will smiled broadly, "What do I do now?"
Leaning over, Theresa took his hands in hers, clasped his hands together.
"There you go, Will."
Will unclasped his hands, reached to hers, grasped her wrists. Pushing her
hands together, he wrapped his fingers around her tiny wrists, soft at first,
then painfully. Her eyes widened and she moaned softly.
"Will-?"
"Like this, you fucking cock tease?" Will grabbed her hair with his free hand,
dragged her to him, then clapped the hand over her mouth before she could
scream. Nodding to his friends, he muscled her to the carpeted steps, his
weight on her, his erection pressing into her back. Timmy and Donnie fell to
their knees beside her, grappling with her, securing her arms with rope, then
tying them together behind her. Reaching down, Will yanked up her skirt, tore
her panties from her. Sniffing them, he laughed, then reached forward, pulling
his one hand from her mouth as he jammed her panties into her mouth with the
other. She never had a chance to cry out, the breath she drew in preparation
was cut off by her own cotton panties. Dragging the rope from her hands up,
Will wrapped it around her head, through her mouth, securing her gag, cranking
her head back painfully. Donnie and Timmy moved to her flailing legs, grabbing
one each and drawing them together. Binding her ankles, they yanked her legs
up, bound them to her hands. The boys stepped back, admired their writhing,
sobbing masterpiece. Struggling against her bonds, Theresa screamed through
her nose. Will looked up at the crucifix, glared, then spat.
"Where's your fucking God now, you self-righteous cunt?"
Stepping toward her, he eyed the length of remaining rope. Grinning, he
grabbed her, flipped her on her back, crushing her hands beneath her. Her eyes,
huge, pleading as he grabbed the bodice of her modest dress, tore it open to
reveal her breasts, round, perfect beneath her virginal white bra. Ripping the
bra, he reached down, roughly pawed her breasts as she moaned, horrified,
shoulders jerking from side to side, trying to evade his touch. Laughing, he
pulled her to her knees, began winding the rope around and around her chest,
trapping her breasts with the rope cutting in below and above. Her sweet
breasts were pushed out painfully, her nipples hardening with the trapped blood.
Theresa moved her head best as she could, looking into the hard, flat eyes of
the boys surrounding her. Whining though the panties, the rope deep in her
mouth, she looked from one face to the next, eyes pleading. Marky met her
begging gaze, cocked his head, clucked.
"Hey, Will, this ain't right," He smiled, still holding her gaze, "in the fuck
films, they always grind some rope up either side of their cunts, hold the
whores open." Theresa moaned, began to cry again as hope was dashed.
Grabbing more rope, Marky leapt forward, pushing Theresa against Will as he ran
the rope between her legs, looped it through the rope torturing her breasts,
pulling one lip of her pussy to the side. Again, the other side, forcing the
other lip wide, leaving her pussy open. Yanking the rope tight, he tied if off
as Theresa's whines became desperate with the pain of the rough hewn rope on her
tender flesh.
"Aw, sis, don't cry," Will pushed her on her back, the ropes between her legs
pulling painfully, baring her pussy, her hole, "you want to be the bride of
Christ? Well, we're in his house, and we're gonna get you good and ready for
your wedding night." Reaching down, he unzipped his tattered jeans, his huge,
ramrod stiff cock springing forth. Theresa tried to close her legs, to squirm
away, but the hog-tie kept her knees far apart, her sweet virgin cunt totally
vulnerable. Leaning over her, he guided his giant tool to the opening of her
hole, laughed shakily as she squealed at the touch. Grinding his fingers under
the tit-binding ropes, he yanked her to him, impaled her in one shredding, hymen
rending plunge. Theresa let out a strangled, muffled scream as her back
arched, her hips bucked in agony. Rising off the floor, she began banging the
back of her head on the floor with the pain. She couldn't see him raping
her-the rope through her mouth held her head back so she was staring at the
other boys' shoes and the feet of Christ behind them. Will heaved on her,
thrusting hatefully, ripping her virginity from her, stretching her wide,
tearing her. Her screams gave way to tortured grunts as his pace quickened, his
breathing coming in harsh gasps. Shouting as his cock began to swell, he spewed
forth wave after wave of hot, thick cum, filling her torn, bleeding pussy. He
continued to hump her until he was limp, then pulled out, wiping his flaccid
dick on her thigh as he laughed.
"Okay, I had mine," he stood, looking down with disdain, "free-for-all now."
Walking to the base of the crucifix, he sat, leaning back against Christ's
tortured legs, striking a match against the bleeding feet to light a cigarette.
"Do her up good, boys-remember, she's gonna be the big guy's wife. Hell of a
set of shoes to fill."
Smiling contentedly, Will watched his friends grope and paw, arguing amongst
themselves over who got which hole, and when. Laughing, he reached into his
pocket, threw a quarter to Jon.
"Just flip for it, kids."
His friends haggled and hashed things out for a few minutes, leaving Theresa
lying between them, her eyes wide with horror as they laughingly discussed what
they were going to do to her body. Once things were decided, there was the
matter of logistics. Will, who had been planning this for years, piped up once
again.
"If you want to triple fuck her, ass, cunt, and mouth at the same time, why not
do it on the altar? Just climb up, Donnie, then Jon and Marky can lift her up,
put her ass on your dick, then she's open for the rest and you're in her."
The boys complied eagerly. Sweeping the presence light to the floor, Donnie
climbed up, ass on the edge, guiding her twitching, jerking hips, pressing his
massive meat against her puckered, quivering ass. Theresa squealed in agony,
horror as he pressed harder, her own weight pushing his cock into her. Jumping,
writhing, she began to groan in agony, guttural gasps forced from her with each
thrust of his swollen tool. Wrapping his arms around her, he began pinching and
digging at her tightly bound breasts, her blood engorged nipples. Stepping up
to her head, Jon pulled a knife from his belt. Theresa's gasps turned to
ragged, muffled screams as he brought the blade to her face. Squeezing her eyes
shut, she flinched, tried to evade the blade as it approached.
"Hold still, you stupid cow," Jon growled, grabbing her hair, "the more you
move, the worse you get cut."
Working the blade under the ropes on her face, he sawed through, smiling at her
squeals when the blade poked. Pulling the ropes from her mouth, He pulled his
cock from his jeans, jammed it into her mouth. Her screams stopped, replaced
with rasping retching noises. Frowning, Jon pushed deeper, marveling at the way
her body jumped, jerked, her jaws worked frantically. Donnie whooped merrily
with her struggles, the tightening of her ass, arching of her back, which drove
him even deeper into her bleeding ass.
"Hey, Jonny," Will called, stubbing his smoke out on Christ's shin, "you might
want to pull the panties out of her mouth if you want to get a quality blow
job."
"Oh, shit," Jon laughed, pulling his engorged cock from her now bleeding throat,
"knew something didn't feel right."
Sticking his fingers into the back of her throat, he grasped the now spit and
blood soaked panties, pulled them from her mouth as she drew a ragged, agonized
breath. That breath was cut off sharply as Jon slammed his cock back into her
mouth. Driving ever deeper, his tool pushed, stretched, then forced open her
throat. Laughing, he began to fuck her face furiously, relishing in the
constricting muscles, the desperate tongue working to push him out but only
succeeding in stimulating him further, encouraging his thrusting.
Marky moved forward, cock already in hand. Stepping between her legs, he pushed
against her tortured cunt, intentionally missing, slamming against her rope
burned lips before plunging in. Smiling broadly at her choked cries, he fucked
her bleeding pussy hard, ramming into her with all his might. The cock in her
ass picked up the pace, and they played off one another, slamming her up, then
down, pulling at, then tearing the thin membrane between them. Will stood,
walked to the front row of pews, then turned, framed the scene with his hands.
"This is fucking perfect-I'll be right back, don't cum!" Striding down the
aisle, he walked to the car-no need to rush, he wanted her to wait, wanted her
torture, her rape before her God, the total destruction of her faith to take all
night. Whistling happily, he opened the glove box, pulled out the Polaroid.
He'd almost forgotten-that would have been truly tragic.
Walking back into the church, he smiled to see that the boys were still on her,
in her. Stepping up, he snapped a few shots, then sat, waving them in the air
to speed development. Hooting happily, he called Steve and Timmy over, showed
them the shots.
"Fucking wicked," he exclaimed merrily, "abso-fucking-lutely brilliant!"
"Will?" Donnie groaned from under Theresa, "hey, is it okay if I cum now?"
Will laughed uproariously, nodded his permission. Donnie's thrusts became
uneven, frantic, his moans rising as his tool began to swell, twitch inside her
torn ass. Letting out a strangled cry, he shot his load into her ass, his hot,
thick spunk filling her bowels as she moaned around the tool in her throat.
That tool began slamming harder, deeper into her face, balls slapping her
bleeding cheek, hip striking her head painfully. Swelling, completely blocking
her airway, it spewed forth a steaming burst of cum into her throat, nearly
drowning her as she retched, gagged, struggled to swallow to keep from dying.
Jon moaned, his knees nearly giving way as her throat worked his cock furiously.
"Oh, baby," he growled, "Christ's gonna love you."
"Spray some on her face, Jonny." Will stepped up, camera aimed as Jon pulled
his meat from her mouth and spat a glob of spunk on her face, hitting her eye,
then running, hanging. Will snapped two shots, smiling triumphantly at her
gasping, moaning.
Marky, still pumping away at her pussy, her poor hole that had, until only a
short time before, been untouched, picked up the pace. Grasping the ropes
binding her red, veined breasts, he began to slam mercilessly, even as Donnie
scooted from under her. His cock nailing her cervix, forcing choked grunts from
her, he ground his fingers into her tits, tearing at her flesh as his tool
erupted in her, adding to the river already inside. He pulled out, finished
spewing on her belly, still slamming his hips against her rope tortured pussy as
she cried.
Timmy and Steve stepped up at Will's urging, dragging Theresa from the altar,
letting her crash painfully to the floor. Will bent down, leaned in to get a
shot of her bruised pussy, the pink tinged cum running from her. Yanking her
up by the hair, Timmy moved in behind her, his cock pressing against her
buttocks, sliding against her butt crack. Steve grinned, pulled out his tool as
he dropped to his knees before her. Poised, as if waiting for some cue, they
slammed into her simultaneously, one in her pussy, one in her ass, lifting her
from the floor with the force of their plunging. Theresa's screams were weak,
mewling, her head lolling with each hateful thrust. Handing the camera off to
Marky, Will moved to them, grabbed her hair, yanked her face toward him.
"You know, sis, every time you opened your stupid cow mouth, I imagined my meat
choking you." He pressed the tip of his rehardening cock against her bruised
lips, "this is my dream come true, bitch. Thank you for the early Christmas
present."
Jerking his hips forward, he drove into her mouth, grasping her head with both
hands, fucking her face with such force that her nose began to bleed. Grunting,
whining, she began to move her jaws weakly as he swelled, hardened completely in
her wet mouth. Gagging, she struggled as her air was again cut off, her
nostrils flaring in her fruitless search for air. Seeing her suffocate was all
Will needed-he pushed as far into her throat as he could, effectively cutting
all air, suddenly knowing that he wanted her dead, wanted to choke the life from
her with his cock. And stayed there. No thrusting, no plunging, just held
there, groaning with pleasure as her struggles became more frantic, her eyes
rolled, body twitched and jerked. Longer, longer he held it, smiling at the
wild constriction of her throat, the frantic working of her tongue.
"Listen to the bitch die," he moaned in pleasure, "isn't that fucking
delicious?"
Will's orgasm enraged him-he'd meant for the bitch to die, to suffocate on his
cock, but it was too much, he couldn't hold off. Pulling out, he spurted his
sour cum on her face, filling her eyes, her nose, leaving her coated in looping,
dangling clumps of his seed as she gasped, dragged air into her burning lungs.
Drawing his knee up, he cracked her in the jaw, laughed bitterly as her teeth
broke from the force.
"You get any pics of my meat in the whore's mouth?"
Marky nodded, gave the thumbs up as Will stalked back to the crucifix, wiped his
slimy tool on Christ's knee. Lighting another smoke, he watched Timmy and Steve
heave on her, slamming her cruelly, finishing the total shredding of that
delicate membrane separating ass from pussy. Her blood flowed freely, pooling
on the polished hardwood of the dais. Maybe he didn't want her dead, he
thought. Better she live, remember. Nodding to himself, he smiled slightly.
Yeah, better the cunt live and know her God witnessed her total defilement.
As Timmy and Steve finished, throwing their sticky loads into her battered
holes, Will brightened. An idea. Yes, the perfect finish to a perfect night.
Checking the camera, he counted-four more shots. Leaping up the stairs, he
strode purposefully to the crucifix. Grabbing hold, he began yanking at the
hanging figure of Christ. Foot braced against the cross, he worked the icon
back and forth until it tore away. Laughing, he dragged the figure of Theresa's
Lord to her side, then dropped it, sinking down to loosen her legs. Groaning
weakly with the pain of restored blood flow to tortured muscles, she tried to
close her legs, to somehow stave off further torture. Reaching back, Will
snatched the presence light from the floor where it had lain, extinguished in a
pool of wax. Laughing triumphantly, he pushed her legs wide, the drove the
presence light viciously into her.
"Be in me, Lord," he crowed, grabbing the camera, "fucking brilliant!"
Kneeling, he motioned for Donnie to lift her just enough so her face would be in
the frame. Snapping the picture, Will groaned with pleasure as the image
developed-her tortured face above her filled pussy, cum and blood squeezing out
around the edges of the presence light. Handing the camera and picture off to
Marky, he went back to the statue of Christ. Lifting it, he dropped it on
Theresa, arranging it obscenely as she squirmed weakly, horrified even in her
daze. Grabbing her legs, Will tied them around the statue's waist, creating a
profane image of a lover's embrace. Theresa moaned, sobbed as she tried to
escape the weight of the statue, her hips moving against it in her struggles.
Pulling her to the edge of the steps, he left her head lolling back, mouth open
in pain and devastation. Grabbing the camera, Will snapped a picture, Theresa's
face plain below the weeping face of Christ.
All the boys jerked to attention when the sacristy door opened. Turning they
ran toward the doors. All but Will, who ducked behind a pew and waved them
away. Father McEwan walked in, his face serene, then horrified as he took in
the scene. Rushing over, he took Theresa's cum crusted, bleeding, bruised face
in his hands. Looking up, Theresa began to cry again, mortification mixed with
relief.
"F-father. Oh, father, whe-where is G-god?"
"Hush, my child," Father McEwan's expression became distant, his eyes glazed as
he looked at her tortured breasts under the heavy figure of Christ. Reaching
down, he hiked up his cassock, pulling out his distended organ. Theresa's eyes
widened, then went dull and empty as he pushed his cock into her abused mouth.
"God is right here, child," he breathed, his hips convulsing, then picking up
the rhythm, "be a good girl, be still-God is in you."
Will stifled his giggles as he snapped the picture. This one-yes, this one was
the crowning achievement, the picture he would treasure forever.
