twenty
The Angel
Like the heathen he is, coming is Heath’s favorite part. My needs are a little more complicated. I need to taste her, to have something of her inside me while I’m inside her—her taste lingering on my tongue like a reminder that she’s still here, a promise to stay. That’s how I like to cum.
At last, I have it. Mercy Soules is in my mouth, the taste I’ve hungered for so many times. We were kids together, and then there were a few awkward years when she was a kid and we were more. But since the day she became more, this has been my fantasy. How many times did I cop a feel when she was too innocent to notice, when I thought it was all I’d ever get because she wasn’t just a friend’s baby sister. She wasn’t like us. Her family wasn’t like mine and Heath’s.
Now we stand over her, jerking our cocks in rhythm with each other while I lick and suck every drop of Mercy from her brother’s fingers. She’s crying and begging, and I know Heath’s not going to last long with those pleas falling from her lips so plentifully. Especially not when he reaches out to shove his fingers into Saint’s mouth, letting him taste the blood from his little sister’s virgin cunt.
Who even knows what goes on in Saint’s fucked up head, what makes him lose control and release his masculine power into a girl. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s thinking about family a whole hell of a lot more than I am right now, with his sister strapped to a tilted cross, getting her pussy wrecked by a marble statue of the Virgin Mary. The thing was always phallic, just begging to be slid up some chick’s cunt.
I’m not even going to wonder what the Master is thinking. He likes it when we obey without question. He takes good care of us in return, so we do it. For Heath, he’s like a father figure without the baggage and shame, a clean slate. For Saint, he’s the father he could have had, if his dad actually gave a shit about anything but their name. For me… I got lucky. The Master is my father away from home, someone to knock some sense into me when I fuck up but always forgives me in the end.
“Give me communion, brother,” Heath says, grabbing for my hand. He sucks my fingers in greedily, slurping Mercy’s blood and juices from them.
“Your bond is sealed,” the Master murmurs, watching me give my uncle communion while he fucks the statue of the Virgin Mary into Mercy’s bloody cunt. “Watch her find salvation.”
Mercy whimpers pitifully, but her breath is coming in soft little gasps.
“Take this image of the Virgin Mary as a symbol of all that is pure and holy, just as our desires are pure and holy,” the Master recites over her. “Close your eyes and relax. You sacrifice willingly, forgive us our sins, for you are merciful, as your god commands.”
“Yes, Master,” Mercy mumbles, her eyes fluttering closed.
“Good little lamb,” the Master praises, pumping into her slow and deep.
I reach out, stroking her clit, watching her flushed thighs quiver, her tight cunt stretched open to take the white marble, now streaked with her blood. I want to lick it off my fingers again, but I want to make her feel good even more. Her clit throbs and squirms against my thumb as the Master continues.
“Imagine it’s the heathen you wanted when you were only a child, now filling and satisfying you. You’re a woman now, ready for his cock to slide deep inside you, fill you with his seed. Imagine it’s the neighbor you feared. Remember the excitement of that fear. Feel it fill you with each stroke.”
“Oh god,” Mercy cries, her hips starting to rock and tremble.
“Imagine it’s your brother choosing you now, the way he always did. Imagine it’s his cock stretching your virgin cunt, defiling your innocence, making you moan. Bleed for him. Pour out your blood for him.”
“Father, forgive me,” she cries, her hips bucking.
I pinch down on her clit, squeezing hard. She shrieks, her hips convulsing, a squirt of liquid jetting from her, splattering over my hand and the Master’s.
I bend down, my mouth already open, but a hand fists my hair, yanking me back.
“Good little lamb,” the Master murmurs, dragging the bloody statue from her. Her cunt gapes, bloody and slick with her release. Another spurt of liquid shoots over her belly, this one white and thick. It takes me a second to realize Heath just came on her like the heathen he is.
“Fuck me, that was hot,” I mutter, my head spinning. I stroke her swollen, tender flesh. Her clit throbs hard against the pad of my thumb, and she cries out, a spasm wracking her hips.
“Be cleansed by her holy water,” the Master says, gathering the drops of her release running down her thighs. He reaches for me, swiping a wet thumb across my forehead.
“Bless me, Father,” I murmur, closing my eyes.
“The blessings of the most merciful upon you,” he says, then repeats the action to my brothers.
“Forgive me my sin,” Saint mutters, folding his hands.
“This is my favorite sin,” Heath says, irreverent as always.
“Gluttony is mine,” I say. “Master, may I?”
“You may clean her up,” the Master says. “I would hate for her sacrifice to go to waste.”
I lick my lips and step in close, undoing one of the rosaries tied around her ankles while the Master releases her other foot. She curls in on herself, whimpering.
“I won’t hurt you,” I promise her. “This will make it all better. Trust me?”
I lift my mask and search her eyes, and she must see the sincerity there, the one that made her trust me to get thorns and splinters from her toes and bandage her knees when we were all barefoot heathens running through the woods, climbing fences into places where we didn’t belong, exploring abandoned houses. Now I slide her off one side of the cross, raise her ivory thighs to my tattooed shoulders and sink tongue into her fresh, bloody cunt. She lets out a shriek, jerking at her arms, which are still over her head.
“Please,” she cries. “Saint, untie me.”
“But you took our sins so well,” Saint taunts, smirking down at her. “Now take his tongue, little sister. Do you like the feeling of it fucking your uptight little cunt?”
I close my eyes and inhale, losing myself in her, this dream I never thought possible. I lick and suck, caressing her folds, soothing her stretched entrance, drawing first whimpers and then desperate pleas from her lips.
Heath leans down over her, sucking greedily at her tits, smearing his cum over her skin, defiling her body the same way I’m corrupting her soul.
“Angel,” she gasps. “Stop, please, I can’t—”
She breaks off with a scream of pleasure as I begin to suckle her clit. Her slick coats my tongue, and I cover her entire pussy with my mouth, glutting myself on the blood of her virginity. I don’t stop until I’ve sucked up every drop; until her cries of helpless bliss and shame echo through the church and her cunt quivers and flutters and finally pulses out her orgasm around my tongue; until she gives herself to me completely, surrendering her innocence with a final, heart wrenching sob.
I soothe her with gentler strokes then, lapping at her stretched opening, slurping up the rest of her juices.
“I think she’s sacrificed enough for tonight,” the Master says gently, prying me from between her quaking thighs. I fight the urge to argue, reminding myself this is a ritual and not a fuck-fest. I’ll eat her again pussy later. After all, it’s our pussy now. We’ve claimed it as our own, and we can do what we want with it.