Chapter 1

"Eyes forward," he barked. I didn't dare look at him or the officer who'd approached my car on the passenger side.

"But, officer..."

"No talking." He opened my car door. "Step out, eyes forward. Hands behind your head!"

"I don't know what I've done. I wasn't speeding-"

"I said... no talking." Suddenly I felt something slip over my head; it was cloth and almost opaque, but not quite. I could still see shapes, but nothing clearly. There seemed to be a hole in it near my mouth. The cloth tightened around my face with the noise of Velcro straps being fastened.

"Put your hands behind your head." I knew what the cold metal on my wrists must be, and then I heard them ratchet closed. "That's much better," he said. "Now come with me."

He dragged me around to the front of my car and leaned me against it, with my back to it. "Let's see what you're hiding."

Large, ungentle hands gripped my breasts so hard I cried out for him to stop. Then I felt his breath near my ear. "I told you not to talk."

"But you're the police, you can't do this!"

"If you say one more word, you will be very sorry. Whether you leave here relatively intact, or in extreme discomfort is entirely up to you. I don't like it when a cunt talks back to me. And, besides, we're not the police. These costumes are a convenience. You jight say we're collectors of lost souls, the scourge of wanton sinners like you."

"What are you talking about? I'm not a sinner."

"Of course you are. Look at you in that lewdly tight blouse, breasts half exposed to everyone you pass. Brother Smith knew immediately what sort of Jezebel you were and pointed you out. No better than a prostitute."

"I'm not a prostitute!"

"No, you're worse. You deceive others into believing you're a righteous woman. The members of my congregation would rightly label you a cunt. And I would agree. Besides which, you ought to be more careful to see who's behind you before you pull over on a deserted road. Anyone can buy a red flasher and some uniforms. And that makes you a stupid cunt as well..." he leaned ever closer. "So don't... talk."

He resumed his groping inspection of my breasts with one hand, and slid his other up inside my skirt to grip my pubic mound. "Let me be clear. Brother Smith and I are going to administer your proper punishment, which is defilement. This will also teach you a valuable lesson in humility. We are blessed with this task and we take great satisfaction from it. I suggest you cooperate in every way, do exactly as you're told. We don't intend to cause you permanent harm, but if you anger me, or try to get away, or disobey anything I tell you, then the outcome is entirely your fault."

"How are those?" I head another voice beside me.

"As whore tits go... not bad. Large and firm. Notice it takes very little rubbing to make the nipples stand up, again an indication of her naturally licentious nature. Shall we inspect them?"

"By all means, Brother Jones."

Fabric shredded, buttons hit the ground. I felt something metal in my cleavage, and then my bra separated in front. The chill in the air instantly made my nipples harder. The man in front of me twisted them. I tried desperately not to make a sound.

"I think this one's happy to meet us," said the so-called Brother Jones, as fingers probed between my legs. "Unfortunate display of sluttiness. She knows what's going to end up inside her whore cunt, and yet the orifice is already wet."

"Wedding ring," said Brother Smith. "Maybe her husband does not care to satisfy himself with her."

"More likely she does not serve him adequately. And I'm quite sure she is not faithful. Such wantonness always seeks unholy satisfaction."

My insides clenched. No one knew about the affairs. They were just flings, nothing serious, and hadn't lasted long. In six years of marriage, I'd only cheated on my husband twice and only in moments of weakness. These lunatics were guessing.

"Certainly he has not properly disciplined her. And the spawn of Satan is everywhere. It is great blessing that we can punish and take our natural male pleasures at the same time." Brother Jones' voice was suddenly much harsher. "Could it be, bitch, that you need to be fucked? Don't reply. Simply nod."

Desperately afraid, I nodded. These two were obviously insane. Who knew what they might do.

"Good. The only time you are to open your mouth is to service Brother Smith or myself. You can then show your proper gratitude for this much-needed punishment. Keep your hands behind your head, and your chest out. This position is exactly the sort of wantonly sluttish display that no doubt excites you."

"This one would look good on the cruciform, you know," said Brother Smith.

"True, she would. It is quite awe-inspiring to tie one of these demons to it, upside down of course, as they cannot be allowed to emulate the sacrifice of the holy ones. And the entire congregation enjoys the service when they can gaze upon such a perfect example of sin."

Other hands pawed at my breasts. "It would be a pleasure to rope those tits, spread her on the frame, and watch the succubus machine punish her," said Brother Jones.

"Yes, but for now this one will have to settle for our cocks instead of the penis piston."

"Then let's get on with it."

"Patience, brother, I enjoy exploring the extent of her wantonness. And exposing them in public is most appropriate. I've always thought we should bring back the pillory and stocks in the town square. It would be perfect for our needs. And in keeping with our philosophy."

Now I was quite sure these men were completely nuts. They acted as if what they were doing were perfectly all right. This was some kind of cult or freaky religion obviously, but I didn't relish the idea of being their altar piece or worse, some sort of cult sacrifice. I dared not move at all.

The two men got on either side of me and practically carried me to their vehicle, which turned out to be a rather plain white panel van with the flashers sitting on the dashboard. I can't believe I hadn't even noticed the lack of markings on the truck.

I heard the sound of the door opening, and they dragged me inside, and tossed me on my back on something that felt sort of like a mattress.

"Hands above your head!" The sound of zippers and belt buckles was unmistakable and I knew I wasn't getting out of this.

"Strip the bitch," said Brother Smith. "I want to fully inspect it."

Without regard for comfort or damage to my clothes, Brother Jones yanked everything off, but without comment, as if he were performing a necessary task. I lay there shivering with my arms stretched above me. Once the van door was closed, I could barely see anything at all.

"Ah, yes," said Brother Smith with what I can only describe as satisfaction. "This is something I must admit I enjoy, because it is so suited to the purpose of humiliation." He roughly spread my legs. "Do not close them," he warned. "You realize of course that your cunt is on display now." I felt his hands between my legs. "I am spreading the lips of your cunt very wide so we can both simply look at you in disgust for what you are. And I remind you that we can do anything we wish, penetrate you in any hole."

I had to admit he was right about one thing. It was humiliating to lie there being inspected like a prize cow.

"You see, Brother Jones, how a whore's cunt is just this shade of dark pink on the inside." He slide a finger into me harshly. "And the wetness, it's an abomination really-proof that she's been the devil's fucktoy. But it will make our task easier. First, if you will be so kind as to get the camera, so that we may share this latest accomplishment with our flock."

After a few seconds, Brother Jones apparently had the camera ready. "Spread the whore's legs wider." A flash went off. "Now the cunt... open it up more." Another flash. "Legs back over the head, so we can view the other orifice."

I was almost smothered as my legs were shoved up and back, and I sensed that he was standing above my face while holding me so wide it ached. "Excellent. These photos will be most pleasing, especially displayed beside the ones we took earlier at the gas station with her flaunting her sluttishness."

My heart really almost stopped. It was bad enough they would have pictures of my private parts, at least they were not identifiable, but they had pictures of all of me, of my face.

As if reading my mind, Brother Smith said, "Does that embarrass you, bitch? That your body will be displayed in full. That everyone in our congregation will know your name, your face, and the color of your pussy?"

"Yes," I said, without thinking.

Brother Smith tightened his hold on my ankles. "Now you've done it. I told you not to speak. Thus additional punishment will be administered. The whip, brother." He had my legs so high, my ass was actually off the floor.

I didn't even have time to process the word "whip" before I felt a streak of fire go across the back of my thighs. I started to cry out, but Brother Smith anticipated, and pressed his foot over my mouth. "Silence, bitch. Not a sound."

There were four more lashes that found my ass cheeks and thighs. Brother Jones paused and I was desperate for it to be over. It wasn't, not quite.

"I think you missed one appropriate target," said Brother Smith, trying to spread me even wider. And before I could form the protest, the whip came down squarely on my wide open pussy. I did scream, but I'm sure no one heard me.

"Well placed," said Brother Smith. "Shall we continue the defilement of this whore?"

"Indeed. My manhood is quite engorged, very hard." I felt him kneel between my legs.

Brother Smith adjusted my position slightly. "Let me get that cunt arranged at a comfortable angle for you."

My rapist did not waste time on preliminaries. I felt the head of his cock stretching me open, and in one full thrust, he rammed himself into me. I was so taken shocked I groaned out loud.

"Clearly you have no sense of discipline," said Brother Jones, slapping one of my breasts. "But I have something that will prevent more outbursts." A powerful hand squeezed my jaw until my mouth opened, and Brother Smith dropped his cock down my throat. "Now you may worship my manhood until I choose to fuck you."

I don't know how long they took, because it all became a blur. At some point, I inhaled something sharp and pungent, and my brain started to float in circles. Every sense was heightened, and I could think of nothing but the cock pistoning in and out of my pussy, and the silky texture of the cock I was licking and sucking.

They changed places, and the rhythm resumed. But every time I felt myself on the very verge of climax, ashamed as I was to admit that my body responded to their abuse, they stopped. Just stopped. One of them would pinch a nipple, or pull my hair hard, and the moment passed. They they'd begin again. I must have drifted off somewhere, because my next thought was that they had left me alone somewhere. But there was a noise nearby, and I felt a pair of hands on my face.

Brother Jones' voice low and menacing. "I'm going to remove the hood, but if you open your eyes, you will not be going home again. Do you understand?"

I nodded. I had no intention of trying to see their faces and give them a reason to kill me.

"Good." He untied the hood and slid it off. I kept my eyes squeezed shut. "Now I'm going to put my cock back in your mouth. I want you to reach up and wrap your hands around the shaft. Now suck me, and do it with great enthusiasm. Wait, one more thing." He wiggled my wedding band of my left finger. "It will be returned. Now suck!"

I had no choice. I did exactly as he said, even when the camera flash went off again. I kept sucking him, even though Brother Smith had once again impaled my cunt on his hard tool.

More flashes. "A few from your angle? Then I think that will do it," said Brother Smith.

Both cocks were withdrawn and within moments, hot wetness began spurting onto my face and tits. "That would be the final baptism, whore," said Brother Jones. "We have a few details to take care of?"

"According to the mail I saw on the car seat, her husband's name is Jack," I heard Brother Smith.