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Mr. Wallace and Me (Parts 14 and 15)

By Robin O.

Part 14:

Father Kincaid looked up from his Bible as I stood there, my wrists restrained behind me by the handcuffs over my long, white gloves, my gorgeous gown revealing so much of my bare skin, my earrings jingling gently, my mind a maze of thoughts. This horrible, old priest whom I hated more than anyone I had ever met had taken me, robbed me of my resistance, my dignity. His thick, old cock had spewed its sperm in my bottom and I had tasted it in my mouth. His gnarled, spotted, old hands had been all over my young, smooth body over and over again. His tongue had been in my mouth ... and I had surrendered to him and even kissed him back.

And Mom!

Was it true that she had been unfaithful to Dad? That Dad was as poorly endowed as I am? That my sweet, lovely mother stays after church and sucks Father Kincaid's ugly, thick cock? That she debases herself with this horny, gnarly priest, coming back again and again for so many years so he can fuck her, kiss her, rub his vile hands all over her?

...

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