The Priest Teaches His Flock-Ch 4-5

Sally sat on the desk, facing Father John. Her eyes opened wide when he picked up a wooden board, about two feet by one foot. It was covered with tiny tacks sticking up from the board, spaced apart an inch apart. She leaned back, knowing what was required of her, afraid of what purpose the board had, only knowing that she knew that somewhere, those tacks would be puncturing her body.

He liked the way she looked, her arms behind her, supporting her body upright, her youthful breasts sticking straight up into the air, her nipples still hard, pointing outward. He put the board down, his hands reaching out for her tits again, grabbing them roughly, bouncing them up and down, slapping at them before grabbing her nipples and pulling them from her body, stretching them out. He heard her moan in pain, but she did not protest the brutal use of her body. She was already in too much trouble.

“Not this time, Sally, this time I want you on your stomach. Turn over and lay flat on the table. Scoot up a little first,” watching as she complied, seeing her press her breasts into the cold table, her body shivering as the coldness spread through her nipples.

“Lift up a little so I can slide this board under your breasts. Jesus was crucified to the cross with nails, you will suffer a similar fate. You will be forced to lie on top of the tacks.” He saw the look of resignation on her face as she pushed up on her body, her breast peeling off from the desk, his hands sliding the board underneath her hanging breasts. He grabbed her breasts by the nipple, unable to stop himself from milking the hanging jugs, pulling on the nipples like she was a cow ready for milking. He released them, her nipples hard and swollen, ready for the tacks. “Down now, press your breasts into the board,” his cock jerking around in his trousers, wanting to escape, wanting Sally’s soft hands wrapped around.

It hurt her nipples as he pulled and tugged on them, stretching them, his fingers digging painfully into the tips, his fingernails biting into the rubbery flesh. She gritted her teeth and let her body slowly lower down, her nipples hitting the tacks first, one sharp tack finding her left nipple square in the center of the nub. She felt his hand on her naked back, slowly pressing her down, not giving her a chance to get into a better position, forcing her to suffer. Her areolas were next, tacks finding the large silver dollar circles, the bite of the tack pricking the tender skin. More pressure on her back, pushing harder this time, forcing her breasts to flatten onto the sharp tacks, tiny puncture wounds appearing all over her breast flesh. “OOOOWWW, that hurts Father John. Pleeeasse,” she begged, but his hands urged her farther down, pushing her down until her body weight pushed her harshly into the tack covered board.

“Lay still now,” moving both hands onto her back and began to push, forcing her into the sharp tacks, hearing her groan and moan in pain when the tiny, sharp tacks punctured her flesh. He loved it when she moaned louder, knowing that a tack had punctured her nipple or areola, the sharp bite of the tack attacking her tender flesh. “Suffer for God, Sally,” pushing again, making her body move up and down on the board, giving the tacks new places to puncture, making Sally groan louder in pain.

“Now your legs, Sally. You are going to have to spread open more then last time. I want you to feel that you are splitting up the middle. There will be no time limit this time. God will give you a sign when he thinks you have suffered enough.” He stroked the back of her leg, letting his hand slide from her knee down to her ankle, then back up again. “The first one is the easiest, Sally, let it slide all the way over to the edge.” He grasped her ankle, letting it move over to the edge, knowing that her body shifting would allow the tacks to find new spots to puncture, pleased at her groans of pain. “Now the cross to make sure that you don’t disappoint God.” He placed the cross in the hole in the edge of the desk, the gleaming cross testament to Sally’s bondage. He had tied up some of the young girls, but he liked it better when they provided their own invisible bondage. It was so much better to see them suffer at their own hands, spread open willingly, his hands fondling their flesh as they moved about, attempting to escape, but always keeping their legs open and spread.

The humiliation was beginning again. Her breasts ached, the sharp puncturing tacks continually tormenting her flesh. Now Father John began to spread her legs, knowing that he would be looking up between her spread legs, knowing that she could not close them, her sex only covered by a pair of simple cotton panties. His hands were already fondling her legs, the large, calloused hands rubbing up and down her lower legs as he began to spread her. She looked back, the cross pinning her one leg open wide. She felt his hand grab the other ankle and slowly part it, opening her up like a giant wishbone. She turned her head the other way, watching as he opened her up, her crotch beginning to ache as she was spread open wider then she should have been. “OOOOOHH, plllease, not so far Father John,” she begged, her tear stained face looking pitifully at Father John. He was enjoying her pain and humiliation, his face reflecting a large grin.

“Suffer for God, Sally,” jerking her leg to the side, spreading it to the far side of the desk, making sure her ankle hung over the side of the desk before he released it. “Hold it there while I get the other cross,” releasing her leg, forcing Sally to maintain the painful position. He picked up the other cross and slowly lowered it into the hole in the desk, the two crosses now the invisible rope holding Sally open and spread. He saw her looking back, making sure her ankle was far enough from the cross so it would not accidentally touch it. That was the best part of the crosses. They always spread their legs open even wider then necessary. Always wanting to make sure they did not touch the crosses. So far, none of them had. Even the ones that he fucked, lying on their young spread bodies, as they endured his powerful rutting inside their virgin pussies, their legs straining to keep open, their pussies painfully torn and bruised by his large cock, pumping them with his organ until he finished, dumping his demon seed in their once virgin bodies.

The last girl was the best. He had her spread like Sally, on her stomach, her ass arched up high by a pillow, her legs spread open even wider then Sally. He had already removed her little panties, her ass cheeks spread apart by the wide expanse of her legs. She was younger then the others, not knowing what was going to happen as he mounted her back, sliding his naked body onto hers, his legs between hers, nestling his cock between the cheeks of her ass, feeling her shivering in fear when she felt it. She had felt his cock before, made to use her hands on his cock, making him cum and even sucked his cock with her tiny mouth. He fumbled between her legs, lining his cock up with her tiny hole, hearing her pleadings. He ignored her, listening to her scream as he slowly forced his cock into her tiny body. But it was not her virgin pussy that he entered. It was her virgin asshole. Her hips shook from side to side, but her legs were always spread open wide, unwilling to stop him from sinking his cock into the deep recesses of her rectum and colon. He had pumped her for twenty minutes, her asshole stretched painfully, taking the giant man sized cock up her backside her painful groaning making his cock even harder. She was his downfall, telling her parents about it. That was how he ended up at the “retreat” and ultimately here.

Sally ached, her groin feeling like it was torn, her thighs already aching from the widespread stance of her legs. She could see Father John behind her, staring up between her spread legs, his trousers bulging in the front. Her breasts stung, the sharp tacks tearing into her flesh, unable to keep still, moving around, trying to relieve some of the pain. The worst were the ones that had punctured her nipples. One had pierced the tip. Every time she breathed, her chest heaving brought about excruciating pain. But she had other problems to worry about. Father John hands were returning to her body. She could feel his hands running up and down her legs, knowing that he would not be content until he reached up under her skirt. 

“Very good, Sally. You’re spread so wide. I know it must hurt, but you must suffer for your sins. Now lay still, I will help you get through this,” his hands moving up higher until it reached the bottom of her skirt. “Your body is tempting me again. You will have to draw out the demon seed from my loins again. Like you did the other day.” His hands reached the top of her legs, only inches from her panties, her skirt beginning to bunch around her waist, his hands fondling her flesh, his fingers digging painfully into her tender flesh, bruising it as he did, his cock jerking when she let out tiny bursts of pain.

Her legs were trembling already, her thighs strained to the breaking point, the juncture of her legs feeling like she was torn up the middle. She kept looking down, making sure that her legs were not near the crosses, having to spread them wider each time, the pain increasing as she did. His fingers were becoming more urgent, pushing hard into her flesh, knowing that he was leaving bruises. She could feel the cool air of the room on her legs, knowing that her skirt was hiked up high. 

“I’m going to push your skirt out of the way, Sally,’ his fingers lifting the skirt up and pushing it onto her back, her panties now the only protection of her butt. Father John moved up and pushed down on her back, forcing a groan of pain and a squirming of her body as the tacks tore into new flesh. 

"OW," she cried out, humiliated as he plucked one of her pubic hairs. "Ow," her legs wanting to close, to stop him from doing it but the crosses keeping her spread and open to his torture. Her legs trembled, the pain in her thighs increasing as his fingers were now moving over her spread crotch. She felt him grab her panties high up at her waist and pull them up, the material between her legs slowly pushed up between her ass cheeks and pussy lips, the material biting into the tender areas of her body. If the spread of her legs was not bad enough, now her panties were tearing her up the middle.

His hands moved back down between her spread legs, now almost naked, her panties only a tiny bit of material, her ass cheeks naked, the panties pushed between her cheeks, her pussy lips now exposed, the panties nestled between them, splitting them open. His fingers moved over her naked flesh, feeling the tight, young skin of her ass, trembling muscles holding her legs in their obscene position before moving down and slowly running over her pussy lips. They were big, puffy lips, covered in a batch of blonde, fine hair. He pinched one, hearing her squeal in pain, her ass pumping up in response to the pain. He ran his fingers up and down over her pussy lips, her red face looking back at him, watching her legs and the crosses, afraid of touching them, unable to prevent him from molesting her virgin flesh.