Page 59 of Of Heathens & Havoc

“The virgin flesh yields to our temptation,” he says, pushing the cold, marble head firmly to my entrance. “With this holy relic, we open you to the sins of the flesh.”

“What are you doing?” I shriek as I feel the unyielding material strain against my protesting flesh.

“That’s right, little sister,” Saint taunts. “She’s the only virgin who will be leaving here tonight. Cry about it if it helps, but you’re taking every inch.”

The Master holds the object firmly and pushes it slowly inside me. The hard, oiled statue enters me, and I buck and thrash, yanking at my ankles in hopes of breaking the rosaries holding them to the cross. Bracing the base against his hips, the Master forces the cold, ridged stone deeper, further than their fingers went, opening me fully until the statue of the Virgin Mary is buried to the hilt inside me.

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 dayshebecame 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 marblestatue 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.

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