Chapter 1

Mary Honeybun was a sweet girl at the tender age of fifteen when she was transferred to the Metropolitan Orphanage after her parents died in a car crash that was entirely their fault according to the police reports. The lawsuits were numerous, and her relatives melted away after all the assets were eaten up by the judgements that left her without funds or prospects in the coldest winter that area had seen for many a year.

The sisters that ran the orphanage were well-intentioned, but they did their best to keep the long-term minors under lock and key as they found homes for the pretty, young ones that had a fair share of the adopting parents that searched for a cooperative child with good manners.

Mary knew that her mother was driving at the time and that was a mistake because she was three sheets to the wind and her father was passed out on the rear seat as drunk as a skunk and unable to drive them home.

Strangely, she didn’t have a single scratch even though the parents were killed instantaneously, and the car was a total wreck.

She was fit for her age and her breasts were already beginning to bud with promise at an early age causing the sisters to cross themselves and pray for divine intervention in finding her a decent home as quickly as possible.

She had few friends at the orphanage and her habit of keeping her mouth shut didn’t make her any followers in the strange new environment. Mary was a good student and the teacher used her to help her grade the papers and clean the classroom at the end of the day.

One of her tasks was to keep the erasers clean and she would take them down to the basement to bang them together to clean them out with lots of noise and a spirited vengeance releasing her anger at the erasers as if they were responsible for her problems.

She had a witness to her tantrums in the form of an “over the hill” custodian, who had a small office/apartment in the corner. His name was Mister Thomas, and nobody seemed to know his last name or cared what it was, if the truth be known.

Although he was four times her age, he found the girl’s anger to be intriguing and he asked her one afternoon why she was so mad at the poor erasers.

Mary looked at the older man and she answered him honestly and told him that she was merely venting her frustration at never being adopted or wanted by any of the visitors to the orphanage in the many months that she had been living there and she was fearful she would never be adopted by any family because now she was almost too old to be a wanted child.

Thomas saw an opportunity here and he told her that she would feel better if she allowed him to spank her and tell her she was a “bad girl” and then he would show her how she could make amends for her faults on her knees.

At first, Mary thought he meant getting down on her knees to pray but it was only a short time later that she saw her mistake she was forced to open her mouth to accept her punishment in a way that left her no doubts about his true meaning.

Mary learned all the ins and outs of cock-sucking in the basement and she expanded her horizons to include some delivery men and altar boys that helped the nuns shovel the snow and clean the basement when they were too busy cooking on the holidays.

After Mary passed her sixteenth birthday, Mister Thomas graduated Mary to bending over the cookie barrel and giving up the secrets of her rear portal to his demanding hardness. He assured her it would give her a better understanding of the male animal. The young girl discovered her ability to satisfy man’s need for pleasure of that sort of foolishness just by dropping her drawers and biting the rope he inserted inside her lips. The rope was to keep her from shouting out too loudly and attracting attention to their lust-driven depravities on top of the cookie barrel. Mary certainly didn’t want one of the nuns to suspect her of sexual activities in their very own basement. The thought of being found out mortified her and she invited Thomas to hit her harder to punish her for her degrading impulses.

Mary passed along her new knowledge to several male visitors as she took them on “tours” of the facility that were interrupted by her flipping up her skirts and offering her flanks to their pleasure if they so desired. To date, she had not had a single rejection of her favors, so she assumed her training was successful by the oversexed janitor and she was fast approaching the day when she might be called upon to lose her virginity sooner rather than later.

Her virginity problem was solved rather quickly by an inspection tour by the bishop who noticed Mary’s ripeness instantly and suggested she give him a tour of the basement to make sure he understood all the secrets of the dark corners and the hidden faults.

She took up her position on top of the cookie barrel. The barrel had witnessed her multitude of sins in the anal and oral portals and she was surprised when the holy man went straight to her pussy for his satisfaction.

The man of the cloth was astonished the little strumpet still had her cherry, but he rectified that situation with a determined thrust totally devoid of any sense of mercy or tender regard for her lack of experience.

Mary whined and she cried, and it all made the bishop even more aggressive in his ministrations. Eventually, she converted to his demanding needs and she started to feel the waves of her womanly orgasms sweeping her ankles and legs up high to wrap around his neck with a desire to keep him inside her where he was doing a marvelous job of pounding her immature pussy.

The bishop gave the convent a perfect “A” grade for excellent and the following day the bishop’s brother visited with a package for each of the three nuns with instructions to keep them in a safe place and way from prying eyes.