Veronica’s mother, a devout but flat-chested Christian woman, had been outraged when her husband ran off with a big-titted stripper.   Hurting and turning to an extremist version of her faith, she had forced a young Veronica to write the same lines on paper every day: “Big-titted women are Satan’s lesbian whores.  Their tits make them stupid and God wants them to be raped as their punishment.”  She wrote it so many times as a child she dreamed of the words in her sleep.

When her tits came in and Veronica realised that she, herself, was destined to be a very big-titted female, she freaked out and ran away from home.  But even then she would write the lines every night, hoping that by learning her mother’s lesson she could avoid going to hell for her big slutty tits.

But the idea was too deeply ingrained in her.  Her tits made her stupid.  God wanted her to be raped.  She was a big-titted lesbian whore.  Alone on the street, she started stripping.  At first she didn’t make much money, as she would cry with humiliation as she bared her giant tits for strange men, but then she learned to masturbate before work, so that she performed in a wet-cunted lustful haze.  

She met other women whose tits made them stupid, and when the strip club manager suggested she lick their cunts on stage she said yes, because she knew she was a lesbian whore.  Naked in front of strangers with her face buried in a large-breasted fucktoy’s cunt, she felt like she had finally descended to the place she belonged in.

After that she lived for the sensation of lezzing off with bimbos while men watched.  She found plenty of stupid big-titted whores who would happily perform slutty acts with her, but she also took pleasure in finding large-breasted women who wouldn’t, and raping them.  God wanted them to be raped, after all.  Often that rape was the start of a journey for those women that would lead them to the strip club, lezzing off with her for the pleasure of strangers.

More and more often she would fuck men in the audience after her shows – or, more accurately, let them rape her for money.  She knew it was what God wanted.  

And so her journey was complete one night when she sat naked on a strange man’s lap, his cock buried deep in her fucktunnel, her whorish tits in his face, bouncing happily, when something about the set of his face sparked something familiar in her memory, and just as he orgasmed inside of her she gasped and realised that of course this particular man had a fetish for large-uddered strippers.

“Daddy?” she squeaked.  And that was when her own humiliating orgasm hit her…

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Find 60 more pages of blasphemous erotica in my e-book Harlot’s Hymn, available for only $4.99 USD at AllTheseRoadworks.com!  Plus your purchase shows your appreciation and supports me to keep creating hot new stories! (Click here to view in store.)

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