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A slut’s first rape should be special, the priests said, and so they made Felicia beg for it.

She was being raped because of Kyra – they made that clear at every interaction.

“I’m doing this because Kyra wanted you to be raped,” said Father Duradel, on the night following Felicia’s ordeal with her lover.  Felicia was naked, and her tits and cunt were still sore from where Kyra had pulled against Felicia’s nipple and clitoris piercings, but Father Duradel had no sympathy.  He had a long syringe, and he plunged it into Felicia’s left breast, evoking a squeal of pain in response.

“This drug causes excruciating pain,” he told Felicia.  “I’m administering it because your slut girlfriend chose for this to happen.  If you do nothing, you will be in excruciating agony for nearly a week.  However, the drug is temporarily countered within the body by the energies produced from sexual arousal.  You need only stay aroused to avoid the pain.”

Felicia looked up at him with wide, scared eyes.

“The drug will also prevent you from orgasming,” said Father Duradel.  “Its most interesting property, however, is that it can be fully purged from the system by a dose of male sperm, administered vaginally.”

Then he departed, leaving her alone in her small stone cell.  She heard the click of the door locking as he left.

She looked around.  There was very little in the room.  In one corner was a bed – not the sort she had been accustomed to at home, but the sort one might provide to a dog, little more than a low cushion with raised edges.  A dog bowl lay next to it, with the word “CUNT” carefully painted on it.  There were chunks of some slimy, unidentifiable foodstuff lying in the bowl.  A saucer placed next to it appeared to contain milk.

Against one wall was a toilet and basin, and Felicia gratefully made use of these now.  The monastery may be archaic and severe, but it appeared to have a well engineered plumbing system, and the toilet flushed.  There was even toilet paper provided – although each square had been printed with the image of a different nude big-titted woman.  Felicia blushed as she wiped her ass with pictures of pretty girls.

On the wall hung a single piece of art – a depiction of the Trinity, or the Three Sisters, one of the Nine Impure Natures said to govern the souls of women.  In the centre of the painting was Lesba, depicted as a brunette with large natural udders – just as Felicia was.  She was facing the viewer, bent at the waist, her tits hanging down, and an anonymous man – his head out of the frame – was fucking her from behind.  She was crying.

Beneath her knelt her two sisters, Masture and Slutt.  Masture – here depicted as a visibly pregnant redhead – was eagerly masturbating, while Slutt – fake-titted and pink-haired – had her hands bound behind her back and her breasts in a painful vice.  Both sisters were suckling at Lesba’s hanging breasts, and the milk trickling from the corners of their mouths showed that Lesba was lactating.

A low nightstand held nothing but a small leather-bound book entitled “The Book of Lesba”, which Felicia ignored.

She had been hoping that the priest had exaggerated the effects of his drug, but as she finished on the toilet, Felicia felt the first pangs of pain.  They started in her breasts, and it felt like her breasts were being brutally squeezed by gloves covered in sharp thumbtacks.  She squeaked, and her hands went to her tits – but the pain was coming from within, and nothing she could do could diminish it.

Then the pain spread down her sides, and she began to feel it in her cunt.  It was like being fucked with a spiked dildo.  She moaned, and whimpered – and then when she started to feel it in her anus, too, she screamed.

The priest had not exaggerated.  It was unbearable.  It was the worst pain she had ever felt.  She couldn’t bear it even for a few minutes – let alone for a week.

Frantically, she began squeezing her tits, and rubbing her pussy.  It was hard to become aroused, after her day of violation and degradation, and through the pain now blooming in her private parts, but she was desperate.  She tried to focus on her most erotic thoughts – Kyra’s breasts, her pussy, the taste of her cunt honey, the feeling of Kyra’s tongue on her clit – and slowly, slowly, she felt the endorphins start to take hold, and as they did, the pain receded.

She kept masturbating all that night.  The priest was right – she couldn’t cum, no matter how hard she tried – but she was scared to stop, and have the pain return.  She was scared to sleep, too, in case she woke up in agony.  

She quickly worked out that she couldn’t just keep rubbing her clit forever.  The friction would become unbearable after a few hours.  So she experimented with just lightly touching herself – teasing herself – to keep herself in a state of high sexual agitation.  She would tug defty on her clit ring, or dip a finger gently into her fuckhole, or slap her pussy lightly with her hand, and it would keep her moaning in slutty arousal – and free from pain.

Her thoughts began to cloud as she spent longer and longer aroused.  Her thoughts of good times with Kyra turned to thoughts of Kyra nude, bound, and wiggling against her from earlier in the day.  Then she thought of Kyra alone in her room, in the same pain and lust as Felicia was right now.  

Then her mind turned to the image of Kyra in the carriage-ride on the way to the convent, her face splattered with Felicia’s father’s cum.

Without realising she was doing it, Felicia licked her lips.  Cum would stop this horrible drug.  Cum in her pussy.  She felt a surge of need.  Did her body know what it required to be free from this prison of lust?  Or was it just a trick of her mind, implanted by Father Duradel’s description of the torture?

She thought of cum spurting up into her womb, and her pussy spasmed eagerly.

She slapped her cunt for being traitorous.  It was gross.  She tried to be a good girl for her father, but she just didn’t like boys.  Sperm was disgusting.  Cocks were disgusting.  She didn’t want one inside her.  She didn’t want someone to cum in her.

She didn’t want it – but maybe she *needed* it.

Father Duradel came for her in the morning, and found her a confused, brainless, slutty, naked mess.  She smelled of cunt.  But even so, she was not ready to beg for rape yet.  She just looked up at him with blank eyes and fingered her pussy.

He nodded, as if he had expected no less, and attached a leash to her nipple rings.  

“Your slut girlfriend has an appointment with the sting of the Dollmaker Wasp,” said the priest.  “Come along.”

Felicia climbed to her feet, and trotted along after Father Duradel, still fingering her fuckhole as she walked.

She heard Kyra before she saw her.  Kyra’s screams drifted a long way down the stone halls.

“Please,” she could hear Kyra moan.  “Please rape me.  Please rape me.  Cum in my pussy.  Please sting my tits.  Make them big and whorish.  Please sting my tits and rape me.”

Felicia felt her heart sink with betrayal.  Less than 24 hours, and Kyra had already surrendered to her pussy.  She had always suspected that her girlfriend wasn’t a *real* lesbian.  With only the slightest provocation, she had surrendered to her lust for cock.

The room they led Felicia too was another stone room, with a stone table in the middle – though this table was thin, only about a foot wide.  Kyra was here, nude and leashed just like Felicia.  She was masturbating frantically, her eyes unfocused.  She didn’t seem to notice that Felicia was there.

They led Felicia to the stone table and had her lay on her back upon it.  They bound her hands to her sides, and spread her legs to hang down either side of the table, leaving her pussy splayed wide to the room.  Her head was right at the very end of the table.  Then they had Kyra come and straddle the table, a leg on either side, so that her cunt was directly above Felicia’s face.  They had judged the height perfectly, and Felicia found that Kyra’s pussy was just within licking range if Kyra’s legs were straight, or nestled snugly against Felicia’s face if Kyra bent her knees a little, but in either position her nose was clear and she could breathe.

Then one of the priests came up behind Kyra, took out his cock, and slowly pushed it into her pussy from behind.  It all happened barely an inch from Felicia’s face.  She could have licked the priest’s cock if she had wanted to.  She saw her girlfriend’s pussy being violated – being raped – in extreme close-up, while her own cunt was still sopping wet.

She suddenly panicked.  With her hands bound, she couldn’t rub her pussy.  What if she didn’t stay wet?  The pain would come back – the horrible, agonising pain.

She needed to stay aroused.  Despite the fact that her lesbian girlfriend was being raped by a man directly in front of her face, she needed to stay aroused.  She concentrated on Kyra’s cunt – her sexy, slutty cunt – and tried to tune out everything else.

“Lick,” Father Duradel instructed her, and Felicia did, extending her tongue and teasing her girlfriend’s clitoris with it.  Her tongue lapped at the thick, sticky cunt-honey oozing from her lover’s twat, savouring the taste.

The other priest began to fuck Kyra, pumping in and out, making her body jerk back and forth across Felicia’s face.  The priests’s testicles bumped against Felicia’s forehead, and rubbed across her face, and Felicia’s tongue inevitably found itself sometimes licking the shaft of the priest’s cock as it pumped in and out of her girlfriend’s fuckhole.

“This is all Felicia’s fault,” she heard Duradel tell Kyra.  “You are being raped because of her choices.  And the pain you are about to feel is because she wanted you to feel it, instead of her.  If you wish to punish your lover, you may beat her cunt with your hands at any time.”

Kyra moaned.  Was she bucking against the priest’s cock?  Eagerly fucking her rapist?  Felicia felt anger at her slutty girlfriend, who had clearly never been a real lesbian, and she lightly nipped at Kyra’s clitoris, making her squeal.

At the end of the room, Duradel took out a sharp object, about a foot long – the detached stinger of a Dollmaker Wasp.  He stepped forward, and plunged the end into Kyra’s left breast, then withdrew it and repeated it with her right tit.

Kyra began to howl and scream immediately.  Felicia had heard of the Dollmaker Wasp.  It was one of the monstrosities that bred in the Great Forest, designed to punish women for their sins.  The live wasps were drawn to sting women in the tits, and their venom had three effects – overwhelming, agonising pain; all-consuming sexual pleasure; and a permament swelling in the size of the woman’s udders.  No one had yet been able to induce the creatures to breed or survive outside the Forest, but their stings could be harvested, and were highly prized for sculpting the bodies of female sex-toys.

Under normal circumstances, a woman stung by a Dollmaker Wasp would begin orgasming uncontrollably – but with the priests’ drug in her system, Kyra was denied that release.  She screamed, and bucked her hips wildly against the violating cock, and tried to clutch at her tits, which even now were beginning to swell as they filled with excruciating pain.

Every time Kyra tried to touch her tits, Father Duradel slapped her hands away – and soon Kyra stopped trying, and found a new outlet for her pain: her lover’s cunt.

Felicia gasped as Kyra slapped her hard in the cunt – and then yelled, as Kyra did it again, and again.

Kyra was in too much pain to make coherent noises, but Felicia thought Kyra was trying to call her a slut and a whore and a bitch, and she repeatedly spanked Felicia’s pussy.  Felicia was so wet that each hit made a slutty squelching sound, and Kyra’s hand came away wet with Felicia’s pussy juices.  

Felicia thought she, too, might have cum from the abuse under normal circumstances, but there was no release for her.  She leaned into the pain, accepting it as sexual, as arousing, because she was terrified what would happen if she stopped being turned on.  She moaned whorishly and wiggled her cunt at her girlfriend, which only infuriated Kyra more and made her slap Felicia harder.

The priest fucking Kyra suddenly reached his own orgasm, and he moaned, and his cock twitched inside Kyra’s pussy, and suddenly cum began to ooze out of Kyra’s fuckhole and into Felicia’s mouth.  There was no way to escape it, so Felicia just swallowed the disgusting white fluid and kept licking.  It wasn’t the first time she had tasted sperm – the homeless man who had first reported their lesbianism had gotten some of his cum in her mouth – but now, in the height of her slutty arousal, it seemed to her that it didn’t really taste that bad, and as she licked more of it from Kyra’s twat, she began to feel as though she actually appreciated the taste of male sperm mixed with women’s cunt nectar.

The priest pulled away from Kyra, and another took his place, jamming his dick into the lesbian’s cum-filled snatch.  A second rape began, and Felicia kept licking.

Kyra’s tits continued to swell, as she screamed and slapped at Felicia’s cunt.  They were not taking a natural shape, but rather becoming round, like soccer balls.  By the time they were done, each would be the size of a small melon.  No one would ever be able to look at Kyra again without thinking of her as a sex object.  She would be defined by her breasts.

Nor would Kyra be able to look at her own tits without remembering and re-experiencing this rape, this pain, this overwhelming sexual lust.  Looking at her breasts would fill her with guilt, and shame, and a desperate need to be punished, to feel agony in her whorishly oversized udders.

Slapping Felicia wasn’t enough for her, and Kyra began punching Felicia in the cunt, squeezing her clitoris mercilessly, pulling at her cunt flaps, trying to force her whole fist into Felicia’s fuckhole.  Felicia screamed and cried into her lover’s pussy, still licking, her mouth still full of the taste of cum and cunt juices.

And then suddenly Kyra was orgasming, bucking hard against Felicia’s face.  The vaginal injection of cum had cured her of the drug’s hold, and now she could cum, cum from the pain and violation and humiliation.  Her whole body shook and spasmed, and her screams became nothing but an inhuman piggish grunt.

The second priest orgasmed too, and Felicia felt cum flood over her tongue as he spurted his load up Kyra’s pussy and then it ran back out into Felicia’s waiting mouth.

“Good girl,” said Father Duradel – and then, just like that, they were leading Kyra away by her tit leash.  Kyra could barely stand, and had to be supported by two priests, but she still was able to rub convulsively at her cunt as they led her away, and she was still crying from the pain in her tits, which wouldn’t subside for many hours, as Felicia understood it.

That left Felicia, lying nude on the slab, her hands bound, her mouth full of cum.

“And you, my dear,” said Duradel, who had remained behind as the other priests escorted Kyra away, “will lie there and think about what you’ve done.”

Felicia felt panicky.  She had to stay aroused.  She looped the events that had just happened through her mind – licking Kyra’s pussy.  Kyra’s pain.  Her swollen tits.  The cock in her cunt.  And somehow, Felicia managed to stay aroused, feeling her cunt pulse needily with each new thought.

But then her traitorous conscience spoke up. A spike of guilt went through her.  How was she aroused from the violation and rape of her girlfriend?  What kind of monster was she?

She felt her arousal begin to wane.  Frantically, she tried to hold onto the thoughts.  It was *hot* when Kyra was raped.  Her tits looked *sexy* all swollen and fake.  And those thoughts were true.  But nevertheless, she felt her sexual need ebbing, and the pain starting to return.

And, whether aroused or not, she wanted to cum.  She wanted to cum so badly.  She had hours of sexual tension stored in her body – tension that needed to be released.  Her ever muscle was stretched taut.  She wanted to cum so badly that she felt like crying.

And she did start to cry, because she knew what she was about to say.

“Please rape me,” she heard herself mumble.  “Please.  Please rape my pussy.  Please cum inside me.  Please make it stop.”

“Good girl,” said Father Duradel, and stood, and exposed his cock.

It was a day of firsts for Felicia.  It was the first time she enjoyed the taste of sperm.  It was the first time she had gotten wet from another woman’s rape.  It was the first time she had had a man’s cock in her pussy.  It was the first time she had been vaginally raped.  It was the first time a man had ejaculated inside her.

And, after the sperm had done its work inside her, she discovered it was also going to be the first time she came from being raped by a man, and when Father Duradel told her that she *deserved* to be raped, as she orgasmed against his cock, she knew in her heart that he was right.


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