1/
“This… is quite a list.” He scanned it again, then looked over at her, mouth slightly open and head tilted.
She shrugged and nodded, her head jerking briefly, lips pursed. “Are you okay with it though? I mean, we never really discussed hard limits as far as doing things to other people.”
“Yeah, I guess, I mean…” He shrugged back. “But I don’t top. I guess that’s where I’m confused.”
“You’re still not topping me. You’re doing what I tell you to. I suppose technically you could say I was topping you from the bottom, but as long as the BDSM police don’t find out we should be okay. It’s all negotiated, and if you don’t feel comfortable, it’s no big.” A long pause. “But I’d really like to do that scene, and I want to do it with you, and I trust you not to take it to far.”
“Because you could always kill me later…”
She knew he was on board then, when he started joking, and grinned. “So you’re good with it?”
“Yeah, let me just go over it a couple of more times to make sure I remember everything. And I’ll need to drink some water, lots of water, maybe iced tea…”
Tremors rippled through her body. “I’ll go get changed.”
2/
The buttons on her blouse clicked against the tabletop as he slammed her into it, holding her there with one hand on her back and a hard fist clenched and full of her hair. “We found that today in your locker… care to explain what you were doing with it?”
The suction cup base held the dildo upright, the rubber dick jostling and bobbing as the table vibrated with her struggles. “It’s not mine Father, I swear…” Her ears rang from the smack to the back of her head, her breath gasped out of her body, leaving her wordless as the fist in her hair twisted and pulled harder.
“Lying. Little. Whore.” Contempt dripped from his voice as he flipped up her skirt, jerking her panties down until they caught at her knees. “It smells just like your disgusting cunt you filthy slut. Let me show you…” He pulled her further onto the table, smashing her face down onto the dildo and fingering her cunt from behind, rubbing her clit hard, tugging on her lips until her struggles turned into sharp jerks of pleasure and she started to get wet. His free hand pulled the dildo off the table, leaving her face on the cool wood, drool seeping out the corner of her mouth. Her breath exploded with a warm, hot mist as he slammed the cock into her, sawing it back and forth, twisting and angling it to hit every part of her cunt, then slamming it down in front of her, slick, wet, shining and glistening obscenely.
Her shoulders thrashed and she tried to roll away but he held her, face pinned against the cock, letting her breathe in the smell of it. “Still want to deny it hasn’t been in your cunt you fucking bitch?”
Teeth grinding together and hips twitching, she spit out angry words. “It’s not mine. Someone must have put it there.”
Hard meat and bone crashed into her ass, and she jerked and snarled. Over and over, the vibration flooding through her blood into her cunt, heat and pain mixing with wet pleasure. He slapped her again and again, standing over her, watching her ass turn red then darker shades as her bruised flesh absorbed the force. “We’ll do this until you admit it is yours, you disgusting tramp.” His hand smacked down into her again, and her snarls turned to a sob, then a soft wail.
Finally she just lay still, surrendering, then shuddered and sobbed. “It’s mine, it’s mine, it’s mine, just please stop, it’s mine…”
A shriek as he slapped her ass again. “You fucking cunt, can’t keep your legs together for ten seconds can you? Come on, you’ll have to be punished.” He dragged her by her hair, pulling her towards the bathroom, her steps short and awkward with her panties still hobbling her knees. Tears, drool, and snot dripping to the floor in a trail of organic bread crumbs, wetness trailing down her legs.
She cowered in the corner of the shower as he leaned over and pulled her shirt apart, ivory buttons popping and rolling on the slick plastic floor. Her hair hung down around her face in wet strands, plastered to her skin with sweat and heat. He slapped the dildo down in front of her, screwing the suction cup base down to the floor, and pointed at it. “Get on it, if that’s what you want so much.”
She shuffled forward, spreading her legs, knees squeaking as her flesh slid across the shower. It slid inside her, and she looked up, fear and lust in her eyes as she imagined what was going to happen next.
“Close your eyes, and pray for forgiveness.”
Her eyes shuddered closed, and she licked her lips, drawing in a harsh breath. His own breath poured out of his mouth as he unzipped his pants, licked his lips, and waited, remembering the list.
“Our Father, who…” She gasped and choked, the words dying as his piss splashed across her nose, trailed down to her mouth, and stopped. She caught herself on her hands, coughing and gasping as he stood over her.
He paused, and she waited, then gave him a quick smile and looked back down.
“You see what happens when you fill your body with disgusting thoughts and actions? It makes it harder for you to be saved. You choke on the lust in your cunt just like the piss in your mouth. Now, fuck yourself and pray. I want to see if you’re such a whore that you can cum with piss on your breath.”
She started over. Riding the cock hard, slamming her hips up and down, fingering her clit. Choking and spitting as she prayed and he pissed in her mouth, splashing hot acidic urine on her face, flooding her skin until it washed down, soaked her blouse, dripped off her tits and the room reeked of it. Over and over, holy words and bodily fluids mixing until she finally shuddered to an orgasm and he emptied his bladder onto her while she bucked and screamed.
The smell of piss filled the room, the hot, disgusting wet smell of waste. She stood up, leaned against the wall and smiled. Her legs trembled, and rivulets of mixed fluids ran down her body, pooling around the cock still wobbling on the floor.
He smiled back. “That was… quite a scene.” He turned to get her a towel, to clean her face with and the small cup they kept for water on the sink.
3/
He felt her hand in his collar, dragging him back against her, pushing their bodies together, his shirt soaking through and plastering itself to his back. “Oh, the scene is just getting started. When you write this one down, why don’t you call it ‘Catholic Schoolgirl’s Revenge?'”
Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.