Vanessa was 18-years old, beautiful, innocent and virginal. In the hope of preserving her innocent and chastity, her parents encouraged her to enrol for special one-on-one “purity lessons” with the local priest, Father Joel Callaghan.
In the vast majority of cases, Father Callaghan provided these lessons in the ways that parents would expect. But for a girl with tits as large as Vanessa, and a face so cute, and a blush so adorable, he decided to have a little fun.
Their sessions were held alone in his office He started by building trust with her – offering her little scandalous secrets he had gleaned from his other parishioners, and he would accompany these by offering her a small glass of wine that he knew her parents would disapprove of her drinking. She always accepted – it would be impolite not to – and it always got her a little tipsy.
After a while, he turned the topic to “purity”, and encouraged her to talk about her sexual thoughts and feelings. When she reluctant to speak, he reminded her that it would be a sin for him to ever disclose what he told her, and that her privacy was safe – and that, likewise, she must never speak of what happened in their sessions.
She confessed simple fantasies about kissing boys, about having them touch her, about being intimate with them. He told her that these fantasies were dirty, just as her tits and cunt were dirty, and that she must spank her own pussy when she had them until it stopped being wet. He told her also that she must go to bed imagining being raped, to instill a revulsion for sexual acts in her. She should picture being raped by these boys she fantasised about, imagining each part of the rape in detail, until she fell asleep.
Of course these instructions only made her more horny and confused.
He began to focus her on the shame inherent in slutty behaviour. He made her volunteer that only a sinful girl would show her tits to a man she wasn’t married to – and only a complete whore would show them to strangers. He encouraged her further, to say that a girl who did such things was stupid, and slutty, and deserved punishment. When he pressed her on what punishment she deserved, Vanessa volunteered that such a girl deserved to be raped.
He set her the task of essays, where she was to describe Satan raping a girl who had displayed her breasts in public in hell. Each time she completed a two-page story about such a rape, he pressed her to be more explicit next time, more graphic, crueller to the girl. He encouraged her to give the girl her own name, and a physical description that matched Vanessa’s, to make it more personal for her. Soon she was producing stories where the devil slapped her face, spat on her, tortured her tits, shoved objects into her vagina and asshole, and bathed her with his sperm.
Meanwhile, he also trained on her obedience to religious authority. He had her call him “sir”, and routinely sent her to fetch objects, or make him drinks. He tutored her on the correct way to sit, and the correct way to stand, and told her she was a good girl when she obeyed, and rapped her across the knuckles with a cane when she disobeyed. She was naturally submissive, and took a natural pride in obedience.
Gradually he asked her to do more extreme things – kneel on a spiked plastic mat; drink a foul-tasting concoction he had mixed for her; go into the women’s toilets and place a bulldog clamp on her pussy to punish it. He focused on training instant obedience, without thinking or questioning.
Through all this, it was occasionally difficult not to order her to strip for him, or suck his cock. He thought she would have done these things – but she knew they were wrong, and it might push her too far.
Besides, he took his truest delight in her blushes of shame and humiliation – and he had something bigger in mind.
He gave her little tasks to do at home – objects to push into her cunt, and abuses to perform on her tits, to punish her for her slutty thoughts.
When she reported to him that she had taken a cucumber from the fridge and shoved it up her pussy, and then deliberately slammed her tits in the fridge door, and that it had only made her sluttishly wet – requiring her to spank her pussy with her hand for nearly half an hour – he knew that she was ready.
He waited until the next Sunday church service. He saw her as people were filing in to their seats, and she presented him with her newest graphic story about the violent rape of a girl who let strangers see her tits.
“Very good, Vanessa,” he said. “I have one instruction for you.”
“Anything, father,” she breathed.
“When the service reaches the portion where we sing hymns, stand up, take off your shirt and bra, and let everyone see your tits,” he said. And he walked away without asking any further questions.
He let her decide what to do. The look on her face was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. She was very aware of everything she had said about a girl who would do what he had asked. Further, her reputation in town, among the congregation, and with her parents would be irrevocably damaged. Everyone would think she was a slut. Her virginal reputation would be ruined. There would be questions – and of course, she could never say that the *priest* had asked her to do it. She would have to come up with some explanation as to why she, Vanessa, had wanted to show the whole town her fuckbags.
But Father Callaghan knew best. To defy him was a sin. And she *liked* obeying him. She especially liked obeying him when he told her to do strange things to her pussy and tits. She would never have done those things otherwise, but doing it for *him* made her feel strange and good. It made her pussy so sinfully wet.
But it would be her *choice* to do this. She knew she could get away with disobeying Father Callaghan once, especially over something like this. It wouldn’t be so bad. Better than showing everyone in town her tits. And girls who showed their tits deserved to be raped by Satan.
Only… would it be so bad to be raped by Satan? Vanessa had fallen asleep every night for weeks now dreaming of being raped – her pussy wet and her nipples hard. Imagining the idea of Satan shoving his hard dick into her fuckhole had made her so whorisly aroused. The thought of having him use her, and squeeze her tits, and slap her face, made her shamefully horny.
If she did this, she would have to be punished. Someone would have to punish her. Father Callaghan maybe. She could tell him she needed punishment. She could tell him… she needed to be raped…
Her pussy was soaking through her panties.
And as the hymns began, she rose, and unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off, and unhooked her bra, and as people began to gasp as they saw her large, exposed tits, she felt herself orgasming, right there in church…
And Father Callaghan knew from her face that soon he, too, would be orgasming – in her slutty little punishment-deserving cunt…
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