Witch Hunt

Each time she choked and gagged, holding his cock in her throat, she felt her pussy spasm violently with the reflex around the tip of the Reverend's cock, behind her. As she struggled to keep both men inside her, she felt a wave of overwhelming humiliation engulf her... She could hardly tell which end of her body was which.

Her lungs were on fire, her whole body trembling as she held her breath, his cock plugging her airway - she'd thought he would have released her by now - and yet she kept him deep. If it was God's will, she would die like this.

The Reverend's cock eased out of her with a horrible wet popping sound, and Abigail rolled her eyes to the side without moving, trying in vain to see what he would do next. Had she displeased him? The thought made her skin cold, and she snapped her hips back, to show him that she was eager to take his cock again.


As if on cue, her Master forced her head sharply downward with a grip that hurt - she tried to cry out in pain, but could make no sound. At the same time, the Reverend coaxed his organ with deliberate, agonizing slowness, into her tiny ass - again, only the tip of it...just enough that he was certain she could feel it - but not enough to please her. She wondered with sudden trepidation if the Reverend thought her too soiled for him...

The shadows at the edge of her vision began to spread like a stain, and her head throbbed with the lack of oxygen, and she felt only two things distinctly: her hot blood dripping from the shallow scratches at her temples, and her puckered anus, twitching on the Reverend's cock.


Then the stranger let her go, and only the Reverend's hands, kneading her ass cheeks, kept her from staggering over. Her tears blinded her as she coughed and retched up the sour contents of her stomach, and before she could venture a glance up at her Master, he took her face in his hands and wrenched her head around to see the man behind her.

She wept incontrollably as the stranger teased her with her fears of not being willing enough, or grateful enough, and she could not form the words, at first. His tongue was hot and wet and squirmy on her cheek, and stung where he had clawed her face, and she turned to the Reverend.

"Oh thank you, Father, for taking my humble body - I know I cannot hope to please you, but I feel I have been blessed, to know your flesh, sir..."

His maddening tease was not enough, and her eyes burned suddenly with a desire to be saved. But did she dare request it of him? Abby hesitated, feeling the tears drip from her chin, then continued in an urgent whisper, "Please Father - I want more...purge my sin - please sir, I beg you.."

When Sasha stumbled from her confines, her mind reeled with the events of late. She needed a virgin. She would find one, yet she cautiously ran the scene over and over in her head.

Her master had taken her violently. He had shown her no mercy, and she had willlingly succombed to his fierceness.

His cold rod froze her insides as he forced himself deeper into her passage than anyone had gone. The intensity had chilled her bones and knowingly, she relented to him. Her body, betrayed her allowing herself to open against his invasion. He seemed to grow larger inside her and filled her completly, almost ripping her apart yet, she had writhed under him like a common whore.

That was what she was now. His whore, his concubine. His. As he assaulted her now aching cunt, she had screamed and cried all in pleasure wanting more, never resisting, until he pulled from her and made known his intentions. Sodomizing her, was degredation. Forcing her to stand, he lent her no comfort as he torn into her virginal ass. She had begged then for him to stop. She had not been strong, yet he vowed to make her thus. Plunging forward, he had taken her ass, until she begged once again for more.

His hot hands clamped onto her clit and forced from her an orgasm that seemed to make her heart stop. Yet his minstrations never ceased. She stood, lifeless impaled ass first onto his massive cock begging for more, screaming to her master, her lover, her dark husband.

Her blood sealed them together and she would be his. Marking his own, he had released his seed deep inside her ass, and she knew there would be no other. She had tasted them then. He bade her clean him with her mouth and she tasted her own filth as well as his salty seed.

Now, covered in dirt and sex, she made her way out of the dark passages. The street was silent, for it was not yet daylight. Her own home, only a few miles from here, would be a welcome sanctuary for her. At first light, she would be on the hunt to fulfill his wishes.

She wanted to be his bride. His willing slave, she would do as he wished no matter what the cost. For she was his now. His mark on her, inside her. frozen in the depths of her body, burned on her soul. Sasha belonged to the master now.

stubborn wench said:

"Oh thank you, Father, for taking my humble body - I know I cannot hope to please you, but I feel I have been blessed, to know your flesh, sir..."

His maddening tease was not enough, and her eyes burned suddenly with a desire to be saved. But did she dare request it of him? Abby hesitated, feeling the tears drip from her chin, then continued in an urgent whisper, "Please Father - I want more...purge my sin - please sir, I beg you.."

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Smythe grunted again from the satisfaction of her submission. She was almost totally broken. He was right - this was the way to save her, to wreck her - body and soul. Tear her to the ground and build her soul again... if there was enough to save.

Another beastial groan escaped his lips as he felt her sphincter grip his length as he shoved more of it into her.

Despite her submission, her dog-like position and her total want to have her body ravaged, the muscles of her tight little bottom still rebelled against both their wishes. The effort of forcing himself inside her made the muscles of his chest knot, his arms tense - and his brow furrowed as beads of sweat formed and dripped from his forehead.

He groaned at the sweet, burning tightness of her grip on his cock and reconcentrated his efforts - his hands gripping the fleshy globes of her arse, spreading her to accomodate him, forcing her open, to peel open for him as he shoved, grunted, pushed, probed, rammed, stuffed, barged his way into her tight little back-passage.

Finally, with one last thrust, his wiry pubic hair bumped up against puckered open of her arse and he was utterly submerged in her. The muscles in his chest and arms relaxed and he let out a low, rumbling gutteral moan.

His throat, previously dry revelled in the salvation as his mouth watered - he looked down at her cock-stuffed arse... and spat on her over-filled little star. His saliva rolling around the base of his cock, coating it as he slowly eased himself out of her.

Susanna

Susanna opened the door her father’s office after a sharp knock and a momentary pause. Sneaking her head around the door, she looked in. Her father was alone, sitting at his desk while looking over some papers. His furrowed brow and grim set mouth gave him the look of a harsh man, and to many he was, but the change in his expression when he saw his daughter was miraculous. His brow relaxed and his grim lips lifted into a paternal smile that easily reached his tired eyes.

“Already, Susanna? This morning has flown passed me.”

Susanna smiled, as well, and she moved across the office to place a kiss on her father’s cheek. “Yes, Father, it is lunchtime already. You must have been very busy.” She watched as he cleared a space on his desk, shuffling and filing a few papers to make room for his lunch. She noticed it was the church’s business, not his own, that ate his morning. Although curious, she knew better than to ask for details. Her parents always seemed happiest when keeping things from her and this forced her to get the latest news from her friends. In a small town, someone always knew something.

Her eyes roamed across the bookcase, “Would you like me to read to you while you eat, Father? I believe Virgil is good for the digestion.” She looks over to him but sees no reaction to her small joke, his attention has returned to papers on his desk and his lunch remained untouched.

“No, thank you, Susannah. I must have my work completed by this evening; everything must be in good order...” He manages a weak smile for his daughter. “Please tell you mother I may be later for dinner.”

“Yes, Father, I will.” She leans down to kiss his cheek once more.

Susanna’s walk home fails to provide her with its usual pleasure; her father’s tired eyes and harried demeanor have disquieted her. Usually, his work for the church provided him with such satisfaction but now he is obviously distressed about something. He is foremost in her mind as she walks home through the quiet woods.

Abigail screamed as the Reverend answered her pleas with renewed efforts to enter her fully, his every move tearing into her, burning like hellfire - but salvation was never easy. She struggled to keep still for him and to relax her body in spite of the pain, to make the way easier for him. Under her breath, still shuddering with sobs, she murmured her thanks.

She felt the stranger she called Master licking the tears from her face, and felt herself spinning, spiralling downward, and wondered if she was losing her mind. She fought to clear her head, concentrating on the splitting pain from behind, as the Reverend tore into her until he was fully seated. She gasped as she felt him pause there, allowing them both to recover - and in spite of it all, she felt a satisfaction she had not known before, feeling her internal muscles quivering along the length of him. He had devoted himself to this, and she was grateful. She turned to face him again, the tears still streaming down her cheeks, and croaked, "Oh thank you, Father.."

In answer, he spat, and she felt his warm saliva land where his cock stretched the flesh of her ass, and run slowly down around his organ - and she wondered at it - was it a show of contempt? But then he began to withdraw again, and she cried out, even as she felt his spittle greasing the way - her torn flesh gripping him as he pulled out was almost worse than his teasing entry. Her whole body stiffened, and she was only vaguely aware of the stranger sliding under her - everything was happening with bewildering speed...there was no time to think, anymore.

She lifted herself carefully, so as not to disrupt the Reverend's movements, allowing her Master easy access to her body, bleating in pain as the Reverend drove back into her again, hardly hearing the words of this strange man with all the answers.. Only feeling him probing between her folds, knowing it was right, even as she moaned at his forced entry. She screamed again, hoarsely, as he drove deep, and scarcely felt his teeth breaking the skin of her shoulder. Her mind was completely overwhelmed, and she was only aware of the two cocks inside her, moving in tandem, a sickly sweet feeling...she was no longer herself, just an object being used by these men. Her lips moved as she thanked her Master, as well, but she did not hear her own voice, did not register the thought.

Abby could only feel them moving inside her, kneading the flesh between them, churning her insides - and the rosy warmth spreading over her body as the pain began to subside, and she felt herself reacting instinctively. All thoughts of salvation had left her - she knew only the carnal pleasure of the flesh as her juices began to flow, easing their efforts. Like an animal, like a heathen with no thought of God or the Devil, living only in the present, she felt the unbridled pleasure rising in her.. Pinned between the two men, she could relinquish all will and token resistance, and delight in the sensations she was feeling.


She began to move her hips in time with their rocking thrusts, and gasped at the sweet spasms that came with her participation. She could feel the beginnings of the same violent pleasure she had known before, and she whimpered and her movements became more frantic, as she chased it. Eager to feel such blinding ecstacy with these two men inside her..

I just want to say I miss this thread, and I am sorry to have seen it go the way it did.

I'm going to bring it back. Please let me know if you are interested in it again. I am not sure what we will do... depends on how many people we will get. If everyone comes back we could just keep going, but if not we may need to start over.

I'm also looking to recruit more people, some new victims to be corrupted and new Hunters as well.

If anyone is still interested... https://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?p=20145623#post20145623

abigail shuddered as she waited within her cell. she knelt on the stone floor, the cool stone a familiar feeling for her knees. her father believed in prayer, the good Reverend required piety of his daughter. She whispered the prayers she had known her whole life. How could this be? How could the people of her township think she is a witch? she hadn't brought on the nightmares, they came even as she tried to not sleep, even as she prayed upon her pillow each night.

the cell was cold. her dark dress covered her from her throat to the shiny toes of her black leather shoes, only her fair hands showed. her creamy skin almost glistened against all of the darkness.

she went to the whole in the rough hewn door and called down the corridor. "please, i am reverend smythe's daughter..... i am a moral woman, i am not a witch." she heard her voice bounce around on the cold stone. "my father will bear witness for me. i do not practice the dark arts." but there was no reply and abigail already knew that her father would disown her if he thought she was guilty of this evil. he wouldn't really abandon her, would he?