Jeeeeeusussss
I sat on the end of my bed Sunday morning watching Melanie go through my dresser drawers picking out what I was going to wear underneath my dress. The dress she had chosen for me was a light cotton, form fitting thing, and even though it covered me neck to knees, was already too revealing for church, so the underwear was going to matter.
Junior and Mel had decided that maybe it would be good for me to reconnect with my community. But I knew they felt nothing but contempt for the church and all the *delusionals* that went, so really it was just another opportunity to humiliate me.
Truth is, I was feeling pretty good about myself from a physical perspective, so part of me kind of wanted to show off. Turns out having a health minded woman around the house has got me in pretty good shape. I was doing okay for someone my age before she came along because I took long walks and was generally health conscious about food. She’s into kale smoothies, though, and intermittent fasting, and all that. So of necessity, I am too.
She makes me run or work out with her almost every day which after a couple rough months has become something I quite like. I have shed my baby weight as I liked to think of it, and I have definition again in places that I had long ago given up on. So, there’s that.
But the thought of exposing my moral turpitude to my old congregation was horrifying. And what was I ever going to say to Mavis after that episode with the video?
Junior wasn’t even going, which was probably for the best as more than likely he would have burst into flames the moment he crossed the threshold. I didn’t want to go at all, but from that first time they had me together, Mel had become my master as much as Junior. So it was not up to me.
At least I would look good. Too good for church is what I thought as I stood in front of the full length mirror admiring the before and after difference in the new me. The flesh tone dress clung to my skin, and made plain the sexy underthings I wore beneath. My nipples weren’t even hard yet, but you could totally see them and the broad, dark, areolae surrounding them through the sheer materials, which I’m sure was the point.
Mel smiled and rubbed my shoulders from behind and says, “Oh, almost forgot the best part!”
She runs out of my room and I hear her messing with a bag in the foyer. Then she runs back in holding up a thin black leather choker with a delicate silver padlock on a metal loop in the middle.
“You like it?”
I knew better than to say no, so I sort of smile and nod.
“Put it on, babe. It’s for you!”
I don’t know much, but I know a dog collar when I see one. I take it from her but then I can’t bring myself to put it on.
“Here, silly. Let me help you.” She giggles and takes it right back. She gets behind me again in front of the mirror and buckles it on around my neck. She wraps her arms around my middle and rests her chin on my shoulder so we are smiling at each other in the mirror cheek to cheek. She can be so loving when she’s hurting me. It’s hard to keep straight what I’m supposed to feel.
Junior makes me call him *Daddy* now when we fuck, which is just cruel because it shows his contempt for me. Mel makes me say *My Love* to her, which at first felt like humiliation, but over time became something else. Eventually she started making me say it whenever I addressed her no matter where we were. Now, sometimes, I can’t help but feel what I’m commanded to say.
There were still times when I despised her for her cruelty. And there were times when I felt adored and desired like an object of worship. And sometimes I was toggled between the two states for her entertainment. We often made love when Junior wasn’t around and it could feel like an affair because we didn’t always tell him about it. I think sometimes when she was masterfully whipping her slave to orgasm there was genuine love in her eyes. I couldn’t help but love her, too. Other times the domination felt like it was coming from the same dark well of spite that supplies Junior.
“What does it mean?” I asked. Cause I could tell that it wasn’t just jewelry.
“It means you belong to me.” And then gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek. “But don’t worry. Nobody at church is gonna know that. It’ll be our secret.”
I prayed that was true.
Her hands unclasped and slid up my belly to cup my tits. While she toyed with them she began nibbling the back of my neck in that way that drives me crazy. I felt my body responding instantly, and we both watched my nipples harden under the thin fabrics in the mirror. I understood then that her attention was more curiosity about how I would appear to people at church this morning than in pleasuring me.
As if to confirm this impression she gave me a devilish smile in the mirror and pinched my nipples hard enough to make me squeal before releasing me.
“Wheels up in five, slave.”
“Yes, My Love.”
She isn’t as mean as he is in terms of sheer brutality, but she’s way more creative when it comes to humiliating me. It excites her to take me places when I’m dolled up all slutty like that because she enjoys everyone’s discomfort at the attention I get. Like this one time the three of us went to a nice restaurant. Any time a waiter came to our table she would cup one of my tits in her hand and dab at it with a napkin like she was trying to get a food stain off my dress. Real funny. By the end of the meal the busboys were hovering around us like yellow jackets around a spilled soda hoping she would do it again. She did. Slowly, deliberately, she cupped my hanging breast and lifted it so the nipple strained against the fabric. While my face burned, she brushed at it with her napkin in long slow strokes for them making sure to repeatedly pluck at my swollen nipple until one of em moaned like he was cumin in his pants.
It didn’t help that she would always address me as “Mother” in those situations so people were extra weirded out by her displays of intimacy with my body.
She explained it to me once but I’m not sure I followed. Something about watching a funny show called *Anachronistic Patriarchal Morays* or whatever, but after getting to know her I think it just gives her back a sense of power someone tried to take away from her once. I’ve never met her parents but I can only assume from how she treats me, that her mother at the very least must have been a real piece of work. And, yes. I do understand how badly this also reflects on me as a parent. Based on how Junior turned out, I think it’s safe to say that I didn’t do such a bang up job, either.
My anxiety grew as the time to leave for the morning service got closer. I’m sure it was obvious to them because Mel suggested maybe a bump of something to mellow me out was in order. I asked her if it could maybe be just half of a pain pill because I didn’t want to be all fucked up in church and she says, “I got you, babe.”
She calls me babe a lot and I kind of like it.
Well, we’re on our way to church, me and Mel in her little convertible with the top up to protect our hair, and I can feel my anxiety growing the closer we get. She hasn’t given me anything yet, so I ask her about that pill cause I’m beginning to think it was a good idea and she tells me, “When we get there. It’s real quick acting.”
I crank up the A.C. as I sit there getting more and more nervous because I’m afraid now of showing up with sweat stains under my arms as if I weren’t mortified enough already, dressed like I am. But then I realize the cold is making my nipples pop so I cover them with my hands to keep them warm.
She asks me why I’m playing with my knockers before church. I explain and Mel finds it intensely amusing. The next time we stop at a red light she orders me to raise my hands and clasp my fingers together behind the headrest. I know what she’s about to do to me and I know why. But I also know better than to disobey, so I do it. She leans across and slaps my tits hard, several times, one after the other while I squeal and take the pain.
When she’s done I look to my right at the aghast expression of a teenager I recognized from the youth group at our church in the back seat of the car stopped next to hers. Poor thing. Fortunately, it seemed that no one else in the car had seen us but him. He gawked at me like he had just seen a unicorn paying a banjo. I prayed no one would believe him.
As she had intended, my ginormous nipples were now fully distended and after a beating would remain so for the foreseeable future. I feel tears welling in my eyes and on top of having to walk around church in a slutty dress with sweat stains and popped out nipples, now I’m worried about ruining my makeup.
We pull in to the church parking lot while I’m dabbing my eyes with a tissue, and already I’m seeing more faces I recognize. I don’t want to ask her again about a pill, but I’m shaking now.
You are probably saying to yourself, “Why don’t the dumb bitch just not go?” Like that was an option. You have to understand how it is to be completely controlled by two crazy people with no sense of shame. After months of use and instruction they had a library of videos of me doing and saying unforgivable things. At that point I had no free will left.
I’m not saying it was all bad. It can also feel nice to be controlled. Exciting, even. One good thing about it is I don’t feel as alone as I used to. Even when Frank Sr. was alive I was already pretty lonely in spite of how active I was in the church. But after he passed I just stopped having a life at all until Junior came home.
I am tested almost every day by my boy and his woman, but there isn’t the same amount of anxiety about some things. In some ways it’s like being a child again. You don’t have to worry about messing things up if someone else is doing all the deciding for you. And I have learned things about myself I otherwise never woulda found out. Like how much I can endure. I’m talking pain, humiliation, *and* pleasure here. Good God, the pleasure.
Every time I feel so overwhelmed from what they do to me that I just wanna die, I end up cuming instead. And then the next time I am less afraid of surrendering.
And because drugs have become part of my routine, I have developed insights about life and the nature of things that are far afield of the stuff we learned in church. And ‘stuff’ is me been polite about it.
“Okay babe. Lets make you feel better.”
She pulls from her purse a little glass vial of white powder with a tiny silver spoon hanging from it on a silver chain. I asked her if it was coke because I have taken it with them before and even though it feels great and makes you all lovey and confident, I didn’t want to be sniffling and fidgeting around and drawing attention to myself during a service. She said no, that it was called Vitamin K, and that it was like the opposite of coke. I was anxious about taking something that I hadn’t done before, but it wasn’t ever an option to decline what I was given in any case. She scooped a little scoop of the powder and held the spoon under my nose. I held the other nostril closed with a forefinger and sniffed it up. It burned a little like coke in my sinuses, but tasted different in the back of my throat. Less acrid, I suppose.
She looked at me with that smile like the funny show was on, and right away I felt my arms and legs begin to tingle. Suddenly it’s like the car is filling up with warm oil and I’m totally okay with it. My anxiety is gone and I let out a big sigh as I relaxed back into the seat. I laughed that I had been so nervous before and it occurred to me that if all it took to change from nervous to this was a chemical, then wasn’t the nerves just a different sort of chemical to begin with?
While I’m pondering this she’s opening a box and pulling out a pink, plastic, thing that looks like a giant sperm. Over the past several months I had become an expert in the types and uses of sex toys, and even though I had never seen this kind before, I recognized the breed. She looked at me with an impish grin and I understood what she wanted.
Mind, this is all happening while the Vitamin K is flowing through me like a lazy river of well-being. I knew I should be horrified at what she was expecting me to do with the pink toy, but I found it funny. In fact, all the anxiety about how the congregation would receive me had been replaced with confidence that I was loved here.
She spread some of our favorite water based gel on the fat end and then held it between her teeth by the tale while she pumped another dab on her finger. I watched her spread my knees and reach under the stretchy material of my dress like it was happening to someone else. I giggled when I felt her pull my panties aside and smear it between my labia because it was chilly, and I had known it would be. She slipped the sperm up into me and I said something stupid about not wanting to have a giant pink baby, which I found hilarious because they were actually both of those things when you gave birth to them.
It fit comfortably inside and I thought it was fine because even though the little tail didn’t go all the way in, it was flexible enough to curl backwards against me under my panties. She confirmed my impression by winking and saying, “Our secret,” like we were in on it together. I liked the idea of having another secret and even though she hadn’t turned it on it felt good in there. I was excited about sitting in church with it because come to think of it, church was mostly boring.
While this thought is bouncing around in my noggin I realized that Mel had got out of the car. After what seemed like too many seconds, I followed.
Opening the door went well, but once my legs were out I discovered that I had forgotten how to stand. In fact, it seemed I had forgotten everything about owning and operating a body because the one I was in was unfamiliar to me.
Mel came around to help. We put our arms around each other and she pretty much hoisted me by herself. I leaned against her like a drunk person and waited for instructions. She said, “I got you, babe,” in that way that makes me believe her.
She grabbed me around the shoulders and supported me as I walked on a stranger’s legs towards the church. I hadn’t remembered it to be a climb from the parking lot, but it seemed this time we were walking up a steep hill.
“Hey, Abigail!” said a person. I couldn’t look up to locate where the voice had come from because the ground beneath my feet felt spongy and unreliable, so I held up a hand in greeting and continued to doter along with Mel keeping me upright. It was an ordeal, but we managed the ever elongating walk from the car to the lobby under a too hot for September sun, and upon entering were accosted by arctic A.C. and an aggressive greeting.
“Abby, hey! It’s really you! You didn’t hear me but I said hello in the parking lot several times,” said he.
This time I was able to locate the voices’ source because it stood right in front of us.
“Oh, hey, Arvin. How you been?” I sighed.
“Real good, real good. How about you? You look,… well.”
Arvin was a family man, but even through my stupor I could tell his eyes were glued to my tits, which is saying something given how lovely Mel was standing next to me in her checkered gingham frock. I looked down at em and realized I had forgotten how on display I was. My nipples jutted from my breasts casting hard shadows down my dress under the directional lighting.
“Me and Ange thought maybe you had moved on or something. But here you are!”
“Here I am.” I agreed and then stared at him for a while wondering what would happen next.
“Hey, Arvin. I’m Melanie.”
She held out a hand and Arvin took it looking relieved that my care taker wasn’t also drunk.
I looked at her and said, “I was supposed to do that.” And then busted out laughing again for some reason.
Normally Arvin would carry on about people we knew and what his kids were up to even though he knew my boy was where he was, which always felt a little insensitive. But as slow as he can be sometimes, I could tell that he could tell that I wasn’t right. After another awkward silence he pulled out the old, ‘*gotta find my wife*’ and melted away into the gathering mix of people with one backwards glance at the girls.
We ran into a few more familiar faces before the service started. I remember laughing a lot as Mel did most of the talking. I’m sure everybody were mortified by my scandalous dress and behavior, but it was all so funny to me. Especially telling people that my beautiful escort was Junior’s girlfriend who lived with us. Oh, and by the way, my scary son was home from crazy camp in case you hadn’t heard.
One part of me was thinking things like, “Well, that’s the last time she ever talks to me,” after getting the giggles when somebody mentioned that their mom was no longer with us. Something about the way she said *no longer with us* made it sound like her mom’s lease ran out and they made her go live with someone else. You know how knowing you’re not supposed to giggle makes it impossible not to?
People I had known forever kept their distance and would occasionally look over like they were talking about us. Well, mostly about me, probably. Like taking a bath in eyeballs.
At one point I spotted Mavis emerge from the throng holding coffee mugs she was probably taking to the kitchen. She looks up and sees me seeing her and turns on a dime, disappearing like a fish back into a shoal of fishes. (I watch a lot of nature channel.)
I remember running into Preacher Doyle as he wandered among his flock, but he pretended not to see me and continued on greeting others like I was a ghost. Apparently Mavis had been talking.
I was reminded of this one show where an ant stumbles upon a whole mess of different color ants and they don’t like that one bit. Some kind of chemical signal goes out that gets everybody on the same page, and before you know it the intruder ant is having a real bad day.
It made me wonder if it was so easy to cast me out, then how real were those relationships to begin with? I was starting to see Mel’s point about it all being a funny show.
When we all migrated into the worship hall for service Mel helped me to a seat near the front next to the isle and I found myself wishing we were in a less visible spot. After the service began we were standing and singing a hymn I knew by heart when I feel the sperm explode to life inside me. I had forgotten it was in there and the shock made me shriek with laughter and plop down on the pew. Then, just as quick as it had started, it stopped.
Mel stood there next to me holding a hymnal singing along, apparently unaware that I had just spazzed out. I sat there looking around in confusion expecting the toy to light me up again at any second cause I thought maybe it had a short in it. Of course it was Mel doing it with a remote control, but I was a little fucked up at the moment, so I didn’t think of that.
I glanced around and saw that people had noticed and were looking at me with concern, but nobody asked me how I was or anything.
When nothing else happened I stood up again right as the song ended and they were all sitting down, and then stood there for a few seconds by myself wondering if I had the power to make them all stand again if I were to sit down too abruptly. I lowered myself back down as gingerly as I could manage to avoid disrupting service again.
Later, after a good bit of blathering on about Christian things Doyle decides to have a moment of silent prayer for that lady’s mama I told you about. I’m floating along like a cloud having random thoughts when that thing in my hooter went off again like an electric bomb!
“JESUS!” I shrieked into the cavernous quiet. And now it’s Mel who can’t suppress a giggle.
After a long silence the preacher goes, “Yessss,… Jeeesus, Sister Abigail,” real disapproving in front of everybody.
Apparently the sperm had different settings because it just as suddenly slowed to a level of vibration that was less earth shattering. Nevertheless, I could already feel the stirrings of a machine made orgasm swirling in my lady parts. In spite of this distraction, I eventually came to the realization that I had been addressed.
“Um, pardon?” Was all I could think to say.
“We welcome you back after your long absence, Sister Abigail. Child of God,… are you in need of The Holy Spirit?”
Our church was First Charismatic Pentecostal which means that things can get a little crazy sometimes. I knew from experience that you didn’t want to be singled out because it meant that: A) a lot of energy was about to get focused on you, and B) sooner or later you were expected to give testimony. Neither of which I was in any condition to deal with.
Again, I took waaay too long to respond.
“Um,… no?”
Oh shit! oh damn! I went and made my answer sound like a question!
“I mean,… I suppose you could say I have had some doubts, lately?” and giggled again because that was the understatement of the year.
I saw that intensity of purpose he gets when he has identified a sinner in need.
“Jesus is always ready for you, Abby. Are you ready for him? Are you ready to let the Lord come into you, again”
“Um,… um,… I guess so?“
“Then let the demon OUTaa, sister! Make ROOM for The Lord! In the name of the Holy Redeemer CAST the demon from your heart!”
If only it were that simple is what I’m thinking as the toy ramps up another level inside me. Preacher Doyle steps down from his elevated pulpit and begins a slow but fervent walk towards me holding out a hand with his eyes closed like he was divining water. The organist Mary Maitlin had picked up on the dramatic turn the service had taken and was improvising something low and suspenseful. The machine between my legs began to vibrate even more violently in a pulsing pattern now, and a moan escaped me.
“Yeeesssssister, let it OU-taaaaa!” He hissed at me. “By his might, Christ comPELS the demonic force that resides within youuu!”
I guess Doyle figured he had his fish hooked already because he was getting right to it. In his defense, it probably looked like he had a pretty solid case. It must have been easy to confuse what I was doing with revelation because I was moaning and jerking around like I was possessed. Some others around me are starting to moan and gyrate as well like it was catching. If you didn’t know any better you might think they were imitating me, but if you asked them they would all say it was the Holy Spirit making em do it.
The preacher walked closer with both arms outstretched now like he was conducting a whole satanic orchestra. In a panic I jumped up from my seat to flee the worship hall. That’s when I found out the sperm not only had a higher speed than I had yet experienced, but also felt as though it was expanding and contracting in a piston-like motion that destroyed my newly rediscovered ability to walk good.
I cried out and fell to my hands and knees in the isle, air humping like a dog. “OH GOD! OH GOD!” I cry out, because my climax was rushing towards an exit and I couldn’t stop it. I felt a hand on my back and saw that Mel had followed me to the floor. Her other hand was in the air like she was pretending to lay hands on me for Jesus which we all know is bullshit. I felt more hands on me as others followed her example and joined us in a big huddle of bodies in the wide isle. Soon my body was covered with hands gripping and rubbing all parts of me wherever they could reach. After months of almost daily use as a sex slave by Junior and/or his girlfriend, I was all but certain that I was about to get gang-banged right there in church. I sort a did, though.
“Leave this poor woman’s BO-DAAAAY, foul spirit! Demon of Satan you HAVE no claim to this pure soul! I comMAND you in the name of our Lord, and Savior, JEEEEEUSUSSSSS!”
Well, by that time he was hopping up and down and so were a lot of people. I couldn’t see them through the mob of gropers for Jesus huddled around me, but I knew that they were doing it because that’s how it usually goes when things get hot, and because kneeling on that floor was like being in a wooden bouncy house. In the melee I felt hands touching me everywhere as I began to climax. Somebody was taking advantage of the pile on to reach up under my dress and plunge the powerful little vibrator in and out of my puss by the tail. I figured that had to be Mel. But then someone else had grabbed a tit from the other side and was squeezing and pulling on it. Probably Arvin, is what I thought.
I’m pretty sure that whatever came out of my mouth at that point sounded like I was speaking tongues because I screamed a whole lot of letters that didn’t add up to many words.
Well, by this time I’m fully in the throws of an epic orgasm and the place is in a spiritual frenzy, and it all reminds me of that painting done in medieval times about the seventh circle of hell because people are moaning and speaking tongues and shuddering like everyone in the place was having orgasms.
“Rise UP Sister Abigail! Rise UPaaa!” Preacher Doyle commanded.
I felt people grip my arms then and suddenly I’m hoisted up from the floor and held with arms outstretched like a crucified martyr before him. Well, he’s jumping about and exhorting the demon to be gone and all, and I’m thinking doesn’t the idiot know what an orgasm looks like? Because I’m cumin so hard I can’t even stand without all the hands holding me up. I look down as I’m convulsing and the sperm’s tail had been freed from my panties and was poking a little tent in the front of my stretchy dress.
“OUTaaa, foul spirit! DePART from this vessel of GAWda!”
Well, Doyle was red faced and sweating already as he danced about in his Jesus dress, just really burning up the calories. I could feel cum dripping down the inside of my quaking thighs and my pussy was clenching at the little machine as it slipped from me and clattered to the floor like the very demon he had been hoping to exorcise.
A collective gasp goes up among the congregants and people are letting me go and backing away from it like it’s a grenade. Ever the professional, Mary Maitlin picks up on the vibe and stops playin. At this point, except for that vibrating pink plastic sperm jerking and rattling its way down the slanted hardwood isle like it was a living creature doing its best to reach Preacher Doyle himself, you could’ve heard a pin drop.
Maybe it *was* a demon in me, or maybe it was the vitamin K, but there I was living out a nightmare scenario I would have happily cut my own throat to avoid at any time in my life prior to that moment, but now that it was happening, all I could do was laugh. It was all so absurd.
I was standing all by myself now, but doubled over with my hands on my knees laughing so hard I was crying. I felt as though by coming here and showing my corruption to these people I had released myself from a prison of the mind. My laughter was tinged with sadness that I had ever cared what these small minded people thought of me.
Mel strode to Preacher Doyle and bent at the waist like she was going to blow him so he stumbles backward into another man’s arms, but really she was just picking up the wriggling sperm by the tail. She straightened, dropped it still buzzing into her little clutch, and turned smartly to face me. She gave me the eyebrow waggle as she strode slowly towards me across the recently cleared center of the hall.
My fingers went to the little silver padlock at my throat and I felt a surge of gratitude to be owned by someone so real and powerful instead of this bitchy fantasy the church was peddling. When she reached me we wrapped our arms around each other and kissed deeply like lovers because that’s what we were.
In that moment I felt more joy than I had ever felt as a parishioner pretending to hear the Holy Spirit in this place. I finally understood the freedom she felt. Fuck em all, is what I felt.
We separated and smiled at each other, and I understood that something had shifted in our relationship because something had changed in me. I wasn’t afraid anymore. I had just lived through the worst possible thing I ever could have imagined happening, and I was fine. Better than fine. Liberated. Mel took my arm in hers and as the crowd parted for us we strode from that unholy place feeling free and good.
*Finis*
If you enjoyed this story or have pervy thoughts about it I would love to read your feedback!
Cheers
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/rsdt66/owned_chapter_five_a_lonely_mom_learns_to_love