by Poppet
The next time I open my eyes I have a strange man fucking me, really punting in and out, his sweat dripping onto my chest. I can't find any strength in my limbs, I try to scream but all I do is croak. Sagging my head left I look for Kenan, and he's over there, boning the brunette, but he's watching me. He offers a furtive wink before applying himself to his task.
I struggle so hard to sit up, gasping, “Drink.”
Matthew intercepts my focus, smiling at me, “Come with me sugar, I'll give you a drink. I have living water for you.”
I try to shrink back but he has me by the hair, the stranger gone, my head spiraling when I'm yanked forward, a penis rammed in my mouth, pumping in and out of me. “Show me, Candy. Take my waters with praise.”
A trickle runs from the corner of my eye and I squeeze my eyes shut tight, pretending this is Kenan. Just pretend they're all Kenan. This isn't happening, this is a dream, it's Kenan.
It's Kenan.
~ Chapter 10 ~
(Women are) to be self-controlled, chaste, homemakers,
good-natured, kind hearted, adapting and subordinating
themselves to their husbands, that the word of God
may not be exposed to reproach
~Titus 2:5
Kenan:
Dressed to go running with the ladies, I look down at her. I don't have the heart to wake her. Those pink tablets are evil, she needs the rest. I wish she was awake so I can ask her how she feels, if he hurt her, to gauge her state of mind.
It's not uncommon for new converts to consider suicide, and I'm reluctant to leave her alone.
Blast it.
Glancing at my watch, I'm out of time. Leaning over I kiss her temple, hoping she'll be here when I get back. If she makes a run for it she'll be taken straight to Matthew, giving him exactly what he wants. The slimy wanker, he sure showed his cards last night.
Exhaling heavily I turn away, jogging through the house, out the door, up the road and to the meet up point. They're all here. Excellent. “Morning ladies, you well?”
“Kenan, what's this we hear? You finally have yourself a lady friend?” pries Natalie.
I nod, smiling, “Yes ma'am.” Looking at my watch, I suggest, “Shall we run first and answer questions later?”
I need to get them tired and breathless so they'll be quiet long enough to hear me out.
“Atta boy!” bellows Sue. She's a good ol'e gal, original American stock. She's stronger than an ox and can bench almost as much as I do. She missed her calling as a wrestler.
Nodding to them, I start jogging uphill, keeping my pace moderate for my gaggle of contenders. Lycra and sports bras keep their jiggles in place, but like all the women here they want to stay trim for god. They know it keeps the ratings up and the cash crop flowing in. They like champagne with breakfast and caviar for lunch, they are doing their bit for the empire.
I push them harder than usual, only allowing them time to rest and hydrate when we reach the central park. I keep an eye on the time because Candy has to go to the spa at nine, and I'll make sure she's not late. I won't give Matthew any excuse to discipline her, or me.
My band of cowgirls flop on the grass, some bending over hands on knees, gasping for breath. Now's my opening. “Girls, I need your help.” Instantly flushed faces all pivot to me, interest and curiosity raw in their expressions.
“Anything for you, darlin'. You know that,” assures Amelia.
I love Southerners. When they make you their friend you are in like family. It's times like this I know god is on my side.
Smiling, hands on hips, I pace, looking at the crew one by one, stating my case. “Candace got here on Friday, she's having trouble adjusting. That's usual, I know, but I'd really appreciate you taking her under your wing, including her in your activities, distracting her from the usual doubts, I need her to feel welcome.”
“Aw, Ken. You really have a soft spot for her. Oh gals isn't he just a doll?!”
The gang leader pushes up off the grass, still puffing, but she takes my hand and looks up, meeting my eye, “Doncha worry, hon. We've got this. You just leave it to us.”
I lean down and hug Celia, “God bless you, sister.”
She pats my cheek, looking to her coven, “Come on ladies, we need to get home and shower.” She twists back to me, “What time should we descend on your unsuspecting lady?”
I shrug, “She has to go for cleansing at nine. How long does that take?”
They share conspiratorial glances, “We haven't a second to lose. We need lots of alcohol for this mission.” Celia looks back at me, her mouth grim, “She's going to be in a world of man hate when that's done. She'll be finished by one, we'll be waiting at your house for you when you get back. Now scoot, off with you, she needs those wide shoulders of yours today.”
Natalie calls after me, “Stay with her! The whole time!”
•
Candace:
The bed depressing rouses me and I roll, my head pounding, the open drapes letting light in that's too bright.
I vaguely recall the devil fucking me last night. But then I was dreaming about horror, witches, a dark shadow with horns laughing at me.
Scowling against the glare, I look to Ken, sitting bolt upright when it's not Kenan, it's him.
“Where's Ken?” It's my first thought. I need my protector!
“He's gone running with his girls. Good morning Candy Caine. My my, that sounds good enough to suck, slowly.”
Snatching the sheet up to cover myself out of old habit, I remember I can't give him a reason, so drop the sheet and stand up, staggering when my knees just fold on me.
Grabbing the bedside table I stumble forwards, catching my trajectory on the bathroom door handle, sliding down it like a paraplegic.
Oh god!
He laughs, getting off the bed and coming at me, leaning over me and hefting me up like he does this everyday. “Oh dear, I think you're still drunk from last night. Do you usually drink so heavily?”
“Jesus turned water into wine, don't judge me for drinking it,” I snap, grateful that my tongue still works even if my legs don't.
“Hrumph, I'm not in the mood to argue. Let's go to the lounge, I have footage I want to show you Miss Caine.”
What choice do I have? He's carrying me bridal style through my own 'home', dumping me on the couch, naked as the goddess Venus, and making himself at home, inserting a DVD into Kenan's fancy setup. He comes to sit next to me, grabbing the remote in one hand and my thigh in the other.
Grrrrrr.
He gives me his scary smile, turning the sound up, saying to me, “You will watch this, all of it.”
“Where's Kenan?” I ask again, desperate for him. What time is it? When will he be back? I need him!
“He's not here, Candy. Right now it's just you and me, now watch.” His tone is menacing so I snap my focus to the flat screen, the huge and embarrassing flat screen, with me twice my normal size, in his house, last night.
Oh my god!
In disgusted and appalled silence I watch myself, Kenan behind me, supporting my head and shoulders, holding my hand, a man called Mario sucking my nipple, Kenan thumbing the other one, Matthew fucking me with his hand while some woman he calls Lara rubs my C spot.
He's laughing at me, talking to me, but I'm staring vacantly at the candle in its stand. “See that Candace? Look at those nipples, look how hard they are, god likes them hard,” speaks from the screen.
I buck and writhe, squeaking an orgasm at the microphone, the cameraman zooming in on my eyes, on the way I lick my lips and stare sultrily at the lens. I'm panting.
Matthew has his horns on, his long hair draping over my skin, crooning to me, “You orgasmed, you're naked, and you are not ashamed. Why? Because I am delivering you from evil. Satan is fighting me for your soul but I won't let him have it. Oh no, I won't.”
The camera pans, taking in the strangers all targeting me, fondling, licking, stroking.
Matthew orders, “Ke
nan, show us how her flesh trembles before us. God made you in his image, god's spirit is within you, does she shake when you penetrate her? Is there fear? Show us how badly the devil has her soul.”
The focus zooms out, people rearranging me over the chair, Kenan sliding into me from the back, doing me doggie style. Still I stare unfocussed, unblinking, drooling onto the seat Matt originally was on when we arrived. Throughout Matthew slaps my ass so hard I should be screaming, but his laughter and glee is the only sound other than the horrid music he chose to play in his man cave.
When Ken pulls out, he catches me when I fold back, flopping in his arms. He looks at Matthew with barely concealed anger, “She didn't tremble or shake. There is no evil in her.”
Matthew inclines his head, circling his hand in a flourish, “So I see. Young and firm, lucky for you my boy. But, does she take all of you when you fuck her mouth, or does she reject you because her body can't handle the pure taste of god?”
He's bargaining for my soul, for my body, for my life!
Right now, on this couch, in Kenan's house, his hand is stroking my thigh, getting higher and higher, and it's freaking me out!
Ken! Get here! Please!
On screen Kenan adjusts me so that I'm supported by the chair, kneeling akimbo and forcing his erection into my mouth. It lasts ages, and I'd bet my eyelashes that the pill he had to take gives him a hard on that lasts twelve hours. So he can't cum. So that my punishment and degradation lasts longer than it has to.
I'm mortified that I don't react when he finally does ejaculate, my eyes rolling back as if I've been out of air for so long I'm passing out. I glance to Matthew next to me and he's entirely focussed on me, looking for weakness. Looking for an in. Bastard!
Unblinking I stoically watch the screen, enduring it all without flinching while Matthew makes me fair game for the night, letting every man there fuck me, making Kenan fuck those ladies, filming it all to wedge us apart with resentment and shame. I want to scream and cry but I'm biting my cheek and staring resolutely at the screen.
At one point I even willingly climb onto a man's penis and hump him. I would never do that. I can't honestly believe I did that. Finally the depravity comes to an end and we're left with silence. What does he want me to say? Thank you?
Fuck that.
His hand moves the final inch, sliding between my legs, the legs I can't move on my own. Squeezing my eyes shut, I hiss, “I am Kenan's.”
Don't slap him, don't scream, don't panic.
“Are you, now. How do I know you haven't corrupted Ken with your evil? What proof do I have that the devil isn't inside you, Candy Caine? The only way for me to know for sure is to engage in coitus with you myself. I know I'm pure, and if you fight me and scream I'll know you have corrupted one of my flock. Won't I? The devil struggles against goodness, he resists correction.”
Oh god. No no no!
A voice speaks softly from behind me, shedding my sanity with fright, “What are you doing, Matthew?”
Ken! I could cry with relief but stay tense and still, holding the tears in check.
Matt swivels to look at Kenan, leaving his hand buried in my crotch, “I'm testing for deception, Ken.”
Kenan vaults over the couch, landing in front of me, shunting Matthew away from me, bodily, “She's due to go for cleansing. You can't judge her until she's been purified! Get out!”
Matthew stands, giving us an icy stare of accusation. “I'm watching both of you, with the eyes of god.”
Then he saunters out as if he has every right to be here.
When the front door makes a soft click Kenan bombs to his knees, clutching me against him and rocking me, “Are you okay? What the hell happened?”
I'm numb, the tears trickling, my degradation complete.
He pulls back, supporting me by his hold on my arms, scanning my face, “Blossom? Talk to me!”
“Movie… you… them… him…”
He shakes me, “Make sense god damn it! What did he do to you?”
“My l-legs don't work, I couldn't run. You were g-gone, left me vulnerable… woke up… Matthew w-was here, I c-couldn't cover myself from h-his eyes because… y-you said can't… can't show modesty. It's my body K-Kenan, it's always b-been mine, I get to choose who stares at it, t-touches it, enters it… tried to run t-to bathroom and lock in, b-but couldn't s-stand, was without mercy…. carried m-me here, put last night on your TV… made me watch, c-c-couldn't cry, scream, withering silently…” Swallowing hard, unable to see him through my tears, I sob, “How could you?”
Ken drops his hands, leaving me to sag back as helplessly as I did last night, “I came in here and he was saying he was going to fuck you.”
Curling into myself I shut him out, sobbing, broken, betrayed.
He punches the chair cushioning above me, shouting, “What did you say that made him think you are evil?! What did you do?!”
“Nothing!” I scream back. “I did n-nothing! I sat here like your slut, silent as a nun at midnight! I d-did nothing! Unlike you who did everything!”
He glares at me, worrying his fingers through his hair, “We don't have time for this. We have to get you to the spa for cleansing.”
I shake my head, “Let me go to p-prison. Let me g-go home. I'd rather be fucked by a d-d-dyke in lockup than endure this.”
It's instantaneous, his palm connecting with my cheek, snapping my head back, my headache now an excruciating migraine, my skull searing with agony.
“Don't you ever say that! Ever! You'd rather leave me? You're stupid! If you think he's going to let you leave you're grossly misguided. You're here for good now, you either submit to me completely or he'll do that to you all day, every day, for the rest of your life. Is that what you want? I did what I was commanded to do to prove to him that you are good and loving, that like the bible says, Women are to be self-controlled, chaste, homemakers, good-natured, kind hearted, adapting and subordinating themselves to their husbands, that the word of God may not be exposed to reproach Titus 2:5. I was proving that to him because that's who you are! It's who you will always be! If you hadn't put us into this position and just did as I told you none of this would have happened! Don't blame me when this is your fault!”
Gripping me again he gives me such a shake that my head feels like it's exploding, rattling my teeth, “You can't leave! If you do, you go to him! You. Can't. Leave. Me. Ever!” Then I'm engulfed and squeezed, his shoulders shaking, his voice coarse, “You can't. You can't. You can't give him what he wants. You can't leave me.”
He's crying, he's scared witless. And I'm terrified.
I can't prove there's no devil or evil in me. No matter what we do Matthew's going to find a way. Satan always does.
Suddenly standing, he prowls the lounge, snapping, “When I asked you to stay with me always, you agreed! Were you lying to me, Candace? Was the satan in you fucking with my soul? The bible tells you to adapt, to subordinate yourself to me. Is Matthew right about you? Are you playing me, satan? Is he making you deliberately facetious, argumentative, and a blasphemer?”
I shake my head, frightened and daunted.
He glares at me while I wipe my eyes, then strides to me, lifting me up and slinging me over his shoulder, the pressure in my head beyond endurable when I hang down his back, “I'm taking you to the spa. We'll finish this conversation when you're purified.”
The drive to our destination is fast, I'm still naked, and it seems that no one has an issue with a fully dressed man walking around manhandling a nude woman. If I was hoping for intervention it's not going to happen in this neighborhood.
I stay silent because no matter what I say or do, I'm damned.
The spa is spartan, gleaming with huge tiles of cream marble, the aesthetics bamboo. I spy Mya waiting in the entrance on one of the raw cotton chairs when Kenan strides in with me again slung over his shoulder. It seems that his opinion of me has nose-dived now that I could be in league with the devil. I'm deposited in a room off to th
e side, on a massage table, my ankles harnessed in stirrups by two scary looking henchmen in white coats, my ankles and wrists bound in quick succession, and without so much as a do you mind they're applying wax strips to my legs, my arms, my crotch.
I tense, screaming when they rip the adhesion off, yanking out my hair follicles. The dark and hairy man glowers at me, striding up to my head and strapping a ball gag over my mouth, my teeth stuck around it, the hole through the center poor ventilation for my panicked inhalations. In tandem they work around me, stripping my skin of fine blonde hairs, paying special attention to my nether region and armpits. Then using laser hair removal they spend an age between my legs and at my armpits, slowly scanning their wand up and down my body. They nod to Kenan, leaving us alone, me still secured, when Matthew saunters into the sterile room.
He doesn't speak, not acknowledging either of us when he comes to my right, unbuckling the leather cuff and pulling my arm up to the hook looming above my table. Strapping my arm to that hook with intricate bands, all snagging into my skin with imbedded wire snares, the ginger haired henchman comes strolling into the room, holding a red hot poker.
Oh my god! Wriggling for dear life, screaming, muffled, I'm stuck when Kenan and the redhead exert pressure on my body to keep me still, and Matthew takes the iron, resting its tip inside my right wrist. Branding me! He's branding me!
He drops the metal with a loud clunk, I am in agony, my skin is divorcing me, my nerves incinerated, the pain pulsating up my arm in a scourge of endless napalm, when Matthew pats my cheek, smiling sleaze at me, saying, “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire. Luke 3:16. God marks his chosen on their right sides, as he did Aaron in Exodus 29:19. For god's sake would you stop wailing. Only heathens wail. Hosea 7:14.”
He nods to Kenan, his signature smirk in place while he surveys my lady bits, the landing strip gone, saying, “I'll be visiting your home this evening. And get her starfish bleached. She's pale I'll grant you that, but god likes women pure and without mar.”
