Despite her late night with Joel, Jillian still woke up before Brielle did. In fact, Brielle slept almost to noon, and when she did rise from her bed, she was groggy and disoriented. The drugs Jillian had fed her had really done their work.
She showed no sign of being aware of the night’s molestation. She was oblivious to the fact that she had sucked Joel’s cock in her sleep, and swallowed his cum, while Jillian had licked her pussy and watched. She simply pulled on a pair of panties and a loose shirt and staggered to the breakfast table.
Brielle had always been beautiful, but Jillian was struck by how much *more* beautiful she looked this morning. Her hair was mussed and dishevelled, but she had a “just fucked” glow about her. Jillian thought of it as her “post rape” look, and marvelled at how Joel’s violation of Brielle had brought out Brielle’s inner shine.
But it was more than that. Because something more fundamental had changed last night. For starters, Brielle was no longer Jillian’s wife.
Oh, it might still say that they were married on paper, and certainly Brielle had no idea anything had changed. But last night Jillian had sold her wife to Joel, for a hundred thousand dollars. The pretty lesbian at the breakfast table was now a man’s property, whether she knew it yet or not. Joel had made it clear that the deal annulled Jillian’s marriage to Brielle, and Jillian had willingly agreed – and further, she had agreed to help force Brielle to accept her new role serving Joel’s cock.
If Brielle was no longer Jillian’s wife, then what was she? Jillian supposed that “sister-slave” might be a good term.
All of these betrayals were terribly, inexcusably wrong, Jillian knew. They would condemn her forever, if anyone knew. Maybe even send her to jail. After all, she had helped a man rape Brielle in her sleep.
But she took comfort in the words Joel had said to her. She was his pet, now – and pets weren’t responsible. She just had to do as she was told, by her new male master, and the consequences were for her master to worry about. It was freeing.
“How are you feeling this morning, sweetie?” Jillian enquired, as she served her former wife breakfast.
Brielle shook her head. “Weird,” she said. “Like my head’s really heavy and I haven’t woken up properly. And… I think I had strange dreams. Maybe sexy dreams? I don’t remember…”
“Have some fried eggs,” said Jillian, putting the plates on the table, and sitting opposite Brielle. “It’ll help.”
“Probably,” agreed Brielle.
They ate their breakfast in silence – and then suddenly Brielle’s eyes widened in horror, and her body stiffened, and her mouth fell open.
“Oh, fuck,” she whispered.
Jillian felt her heart begin to race. Brielle had remembered. Somehow, she knew what they’d done to her. She was going to accuse Jillian – and then go to the police – and then…
She tried to plan what to do. She would have to restrain Brielle, to stop her calling the cops. Restrain her, and then call Joel. They could take her to Joel’s place. Joel would have somewhere secure to keep her – a cage, maybe – until Brielle came to her senses, and understood, and….
But it wasn’t Jillian’s betrayal that Brielle was thinking about – but rather her own.
“The pastor,” Brielle whispered. “Oh, fuck, the pastor. I’m so sorry, Jillian.”
“What are you talking about, sweetie?” asked Jillian cautiously.
“I was trying to tell you last night,” said Brielle. “But then I got so sleepy. I’m sorry, Jillian – I’m so sorry. We’ll remove them. We’ll take them out.”
“Take what out?” asked Jillian, frightened now for completely different reasons.
“The cameras,” said Brielle. “The secret cameras. In our bedroom.”
Jillian felt her blood grow cold. Surely not. Surely Brielle wasn’t serious. There couldn’t have been cameras – in her bedroom – as she had helped Joel rape Brielle… could there?
“I think you’d better explain yourself, sweetie,” she said, in a slow voice.
“I was telling you about the pastor,” said Brielle. “He… groped me. And he said he knew I wasn’t really straight now, or else I would have liked that man at the church – and I would have responded to his touch. And he said I had lied – lied about being straight to get the job at the church.”
Jillian pursed her lips. She had never wanted Brielle working at the church – but saying “I told you so” would only make it take longer to find out what Brielle had done, so she stayed quiet.
“The pastor said I might have to pay back all the money I’d been paid so far for my work,” said Brielle. “And I know… I know how tight our finances are. And we couldn’t afford it. And you’d be so mad at me, and you’d say you told me not to work at the church, and…”
She trailed off into silent tears. Everything she was saying was right, though, Jillian *would* have been angry.
“What did you do, Brielle?” asked Jillian.
“He said he couldn’t have a homosexual woman working at the church,” said Brielle. “He said it was an affront to God. But he could *maybe* have one who genuinely did want to change. But I would need to have oversight, and accountability. He told me to put cameras in my bedroom – and then he would see if I fucked you. And if I fucked you, then he would discipline me – by spanking my pussy – but at least I would be able to keep working at the church.”
Jillian let out her breath. “Brielle, you stupid slut…” she said.
“I’m sorry!” wailed Brielle. “I didn’t know what to do. I was panicking. I put the cameras in the bedroom, like he asked. They’re set to transmit footage to his home computer. I was going to tell you about them, and say that we just needed to not undress or have sex in the bedroom for a while, until I figured this out – we could do it in the lounge, or whatever. And it would give me time to talk sense into the pastor, or figure out how to repay the money, or something… but then I got so tired. I’m *sorry*, Jillian!”
Jillian was thinking fast. “Fuck, Brielle,” she said. “I undressed you in the bedroom last night when you fell asleep, and put you into bed nude. And then I undressed and slept next to you. That creepy pastor must have footage of both of us naked now. That’s so gross. I can’t believe you violated my trust that way.”
“I’m sorry!” wailed Brielle again. She was in tears now. Brielle had always been pretty when she cried, and Jillian couldn’t help but think her face was gorgeous now, in its misery and shame.
“Okay,” said Jillian, with sudden determination. “I’m going to fix this, okay? One way or another. I’m going to sort it out.”
“Thank you,” sniffled Brielle.
“BUT,” said Jillian firmly, “until I forgive you – which I have NOT done yet – you are going to do whatever I say, without question. You need to make this up to me, Brielle. You’re going to do all the housework, AND you’re probably going to need to keep working at the church. And when we fuck – which I guess will probably not be in the bedroom – you’re going to focus on MY pleasure, and fuck however I tell you to fuck, whether it’s the way you like it or not. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” nodded Brielle submissively.
“And I don’t know what solution I’m going to reach,” said Jillian, “but you’re going to agree to it, whether it pleases you or not. You’ve dug quite the hole here, so it’s possible the way out is going to be embarrassing for you, and involve you doing things you don’t want to do. Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” said Brielle again. “Whatever I have to do, I’ll do it.”
“Good girl,” said Brielle. “Now, do you have a phone number for the pastor? It’s about time I gave him a call.”
The phone call was short. The pastor said little to Jillian, but his voice was smug, and he made it clear that he had seen what the cameras had captured overnight.
“You will come to my house, behind the church,” he told her. “You will completely undress on my front porch, before knocking on the door. You will address me as sir. And we will discuss your little overnight performance.”
In retrospect, Jillian should have called Joel. She should have planned her response with him. But she felt guilty. On her first night being properly owned by Joel, she had led him into committing a crime on camera. She felt so stupid. Brielle had tried to tell her, before the drugs had taken hold, and Jillian hadn’t even stopped to think. She’d been so eager to get her master’s cock into her wife’s mouth that she had completely ignored what Brielle had been saying.
She still thought she could solve this herself, and that Joel would never need to find out about it. She innocently thought that the pastor might, perhaps, want to humiliate her a little, and demand a blowjob – and Jillian definitely didn’t want to suck the pastor’s cock, but it seemed a small price to pay for escaping from the trap Brielle had stupidly placed them in.
She arrived at the pastor’s house in the early afternoon. Located behind the church, it was largely sheltered from public view – and yet it was still exposed enough that Jillian felt extremely uncomfortable stripping out of her clothes on the front porch. To be nude outdoors felt wrong, and slutty, and embarrassing. To do it on church grounds seemed even worse, even if Jillian herself was an atheist.
Once she was completely naked, and shivering in the brisk afternoon air, she knocked on the door.
It opened at once, revealing the pastor’s smiling face.
“Oh, it’s the lesbian cunt!” he said, beaming. “Can I call you that? Cunt?”
Jillian’s face went red with humiliation and anger – but she hadn’t come this far to have a tantrum at the first indignity. “Yes, sir,” she said.
“Very good,” said the pastor. “Come in, cunt. You can leave your clothes on the doorstep. You won’t need them.”
She stepped into the pastor’s house – and immediately stopped in surprise and horror.
The pastor’s wife Tammy was waiting in the main hallway – but this was a very different Tammy to the modestly-dressed woman who had come to dinner at Jillian’s house.
Tammy was completely nude other than a pair of high heels. She was still visibly pregnant, her belly big and round, her breasts swollen, her areolae wide and dark. Her hair and makeup were prepared in a sexualised style. A leather belt ran around her waist, below the belly bulge, and her wrists were cuffed to it so as to trap her hands at her sides. Her pussy lips were taped to her inner thighs with some kind of transparent tape, to expose the pink tenderness of her cunt and clit to view, and Jillian could see that a dog leash was connected to Tammy’s clitoris via a ring piercing. The leash chain ran up to a handle that had been tucked into Tammy’s belt.
Tammy’s large pregnant breasts were bound tightly around their base in rope, clearly constricting them in a painful way, and her nipples, too, had ring piercings. From those piercings hung a metal tray, and upon the tray was balanced a glass tumbler of whiskey, whose weight must have been agony for Tammy’s poor nipples. As Jillian watched, a drop of milk leaked from one nipple onto the tray.
“You remember Tammy, of course, cunt,” said the pastor. “She used to be a disgusting dyke slut, just like you, but now she’s a good little submissive heterosexual breeder. And she makes such a good decoration, too, don’t you think?”
“Does she… consent to this?” asked Jillian, horrified.
“Why don’t we ask her?” said the pastor. “Tammy, dear, do you consent to this?”
“Oh, yes,” said Tammy, avoiding eye contact. “When the pastor first took me into his household, I occasionally threw tantrums and had sulking fits about being disciplined for my lesbianism – but now I understand that the more pain and degradation I experience in the mortal realm for my sinful urges, the more chance I have to avoid eternal punishment in the afterlife. The days I am luckiest are the days when my dear husband makes me weep with pain and humiliation, for those are the days that will save my eternal soul.”
Were there tears in Tammy’s eyes as she said this? Jillian couldn’t quite see.
“Why don’t you tell her she deserves this, cunt,” said the pastor. “For being a disgusting lesbian slut?”
Jillian rebelled. “I’m not saying that,” she protested.
“Oh?” said the pastor. “Such a shame, to come all this way and get so naked, only to have me show your little escapades from last night to your dyke girlfriend. I imagine she’ll probably go to the police, won’t she?”
Jillian trembled with rage. In another time, she would have corrected the pastor on his use of “girlfriend” – Brielle was her *wife* – and yet, that was no longer true. She’d annulled her marriage to Brielle last night, for a hundred thousand dollars.
And the truth was that the pastor held all the leverage here. Jillian couldn’t afford to preserve her dignity, or her morals, if she hoped to come out of this with what she wanted.
So she turned to Tammy, and smiled, and said, “You deserve this for being such a disgusting lesbian slut, Tammy.”
Tammy flushed. “I know,” she said.
“Good,” said the pastor. He addressed Jillian. “Now, cunt – why don’t you come through to the lounge, and take a seat, and spread your legs so I can see that dirty lesbian pussy of yours, and we’ll discuss what kind of arrangement we can come to.”
And Jillian trembled with fear, as she nodded, and followed the pastor to the lounge. Because it was beginning to dawn on her that the pastor might want more than a blowjob. She was beginning to suspect that he might, in fact, want to fuck her in some of her other hole – or worse.
And while Jillian did not want to be raped by the pastor in *any* of her holes, and particularly in her cunt or ass, something worse had occurred to her.
Because she was, by society’s standards, a virgin. She had never, in all her life, had a man’s cock in her pussy. Nor had she ever planned to. But if it was going to happen, she didn’t want it to be like this – raped by a pig of a priest, for the purpose of degrading and humiliating her.
She wanted to give her virginity to Joel. Her owner. Her master.
And so while she had come here intending to do whatever it took to get her and Brielle and Joel off the hook for the footage the pastor had acquired, she now realised that there was something more important to her.
She would *not* let this man fuck her vagina, no matter what.
And if that meant maybe selling a little more of Brielle – well, then that would have to be what happened…
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