’ ‘Daddy, I wish you hadn’t monopolized him so last night. I wanted to have a quiet word with the Vicar on my own.’ Her whine was a laser slicing through my eardrums without anesthetic. ‘Perhaps after dinner tonight at the Café Ypres. I’ll be more considerate and leave you two young people a chance to spend some time together.’ I moaned, the agony was becoming critical. The morning was spent going over the parish records with the Bishop: dull statistics and no clear pattern emerging, but some little indications of growth. After three pots of coffee, some water and aspirin I was feeling almost human, and able to join them for lunch. It was a sunny day, and the grass was exceptionally green in the sunlight, and Violette looked out the window with interest. When the Bishop retired to the W. C., she blurted out: ‘Is that fence high enough for people to see over it?’ I winced as her voice severed another set of nerves and drove daggers into my brain. ‘No, it isn’t. I’ve been in all of the. I screamed, tried to twist away. And then he knelt before me even as I writhed from the nipple torture, affixed another to my clit. Oh, Jesus, oh, it hurt so badly! My hips convulsed, twitching uncontrollably as I grunted and gasped. He stood back, admired his handiwork, then walked away. I struggled, writhed, my feet and calves cramping, agonized as I fought to support my weight. I must have passed out again.I awoke surrounded, cameras set up, the crowd of men waiting. I moaned as the pain made its way to my brain. David speaking, giving instructions, but I couldn’t understand his words. But I understood the pressure against my ass, the hot, solid cock pushing even as another drove into my angry, raw pussy. I began to struggle, squirming to escape the ass fucking I knew was coming. I had never. Never.I squealed as my anus was torn open, the gag muffling my cries. Deeper, deeper he thrust, until he was totally buried in my virgin ass, lifting me off the floor. Their thrusts were.
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