Chapter 1

Fourteen-year-old Eve Winslow fell into the trap with her eyes wide open, and once the last door closed, her eyes closed. She was so screwed. All three of the congregation's child molesters were in the van with her and they had an eight hour night journey ahead of them, and then five long days until Sunday--the earliest she could expect to be released.

Eve could almost feel the men grinning ear to ear, briskly rubbing their filthy paws together, high-fiving each other at their craftiness, cunning, and attention to detail:

"Eve, you will be riding in Sister Melody's van. Go there and wait while I collect the others and notify Sister Melody."

Eve went. Eve waited. Three men quickly got in, the van sped away, and the van full of perverts and one lovely victim was soon lost in Phoenix traffic.

The plan went perfectly and Eve Winslow was screwed, so screwed that she didn't fight the hairy hands that encircled her from behind, making a living bra of themselves. Another manly hand landed on her bare left leg and began advancing on her crotch. Eve didn't flinch or try to squirm away. She relaxed her legs even as the massive hand captured her virgin vagina and squeezed the ripe fruit like slut pulp.

The three men--Pastor John Roberts, Brother Aaron Jenkins, and Elder Jack Swenson--had a well known problem: they could not keep their filthy paws off the lambs in the flock. Virgin lambs over the age of ten were at a premium as a result. Eve was the prize, the hardest to capture, and the finest lamb by far.

The men should be doing hard time--child molesters all. The whole congregation knew about their problem. The young ladies were warned about the men. Parents hovered over their tender morsels, but one of the molesters usually got through and nailed some young lamb despite all precautions.

After an assault, a weekly happening, there would be another uproar, like a disturbed beehive [with tears and angry threats in the case of first time assaults], but the Church of One God Faith in Christ (COGFC), or simply Church of One God, or just COGs) handled their own errant sheep, even the pastoral shepherd who was appointed by the elders to serve a five-year term after receiving a moving by the Holy Spirit--the sign that God has selected so and so--their way of saying, "We picked so and so."

Elder John was the current pastor of their three-hundred member congregation. Elder Swenson had the position before John. Serving a calling as the pastor is what made him an elder. Elders were pastor vets. By the time of Eve's assault, the congregation was numb to sexual assaults on children and any disturbance or tears would be contained in the Winslow home with offers of sympathy, or empathy, but mostly a welcome-to-the-club hug.

Odds were that Brother Arron would get the nod at the next moving of the Holy Ghost due in less than one year, continuing a sinister support network of leadership that led the flock to the gates of the Celestial Kingdom while leading a few down dirty side paths along the way. The congregation was like grazing sheep who might look up when the shepherd decided to fuck a lamb, but then go right back to grazing and following along until the next lamb bleated and bled.

All COGFC congregations had the same problems with their lay minister--abuse of power, primarily sexual abuse of power. The poorly-thought-out or ingenious system--depending on which side of prison bars you see it from--invited abuse. The women had to go to the pastor for confession and absolution. The core of their belief was absolution through confession, and one had to be as close to purity as possible to live alongside God in the Celestial Kingdom; therefor, any sins needed to be washed away as soon as possible. The confessional (the Pastor's office) was like the hereafter laundry room where their celestial robes could be restored to a like-new brilliance.

The trouble was, cleansing required a baring of the soul, no holding back. Anything held back remained as a stain on their holy tunic. Stripped of their most intimate secrets, spiritually bare before the man who was once their son's scout master or their next door neighbor, now privy to their most intimate secrets, they were vulnerable to seduction while in office or blackmail after he returned to being just another member of the flock. I suppose that's why they're called a lay minister.

In the Los Angeles congregation, the church took a twisted side path when a child molester ascended to the throne and another followed. For nine long years, the L.A. church had to deal with a major problem--what to do when God's anointed wants the children in a biblical way?

Elder Swenson's five year term left a legacy of decadence and developed a following of dirty old men in the church that were difficult to unseat or overcome. United, their power was solid, and the congregation was like a flock with three shepherds and ten horny old dogs moving it along.

The mother church was well aware of the problem, had heard many complaints, and took steps to correct the situation short of overriding God's anointed--an admission that the choice of a Pastor was not inspired by the Holy Spirit--which simply was not possible. No, God must have his reasons for placing a pervert in the pulpit of the L.A congregation. This was a problem for the congregation to deal with, and they tried.

Committees were formed, procedures adopted, and oversight established. The men (three chronic offenders and several who had erred once, twice, or three times) were all in therapy, but for all the good therapy did, most in the congregation thought the weekly group sessions with Dr. Jacob were to compare technique and brag about conquests.

Many had their suspicions about Dr. Jacob, a non-member who volunteered his services. Dr. Jacob, a convicted child molester, reformed in prison, now with a Ph.D. in Psychology and offering group counseling therapy to molesters with individual counseling therapy to victims, hardly inspired confidence in worried parents.

For one, he spent most of his time with victims in closed door sessions, and the victims never talked about those sessions, often citing doctor/patient confidentiality as the reason as though the law protected the doctor's privacy as well. Some parents didn't know otherwise, and others didn't want to know.

Actually, few of the parents were naive enough to believe that the trip to Dr. Jacob's Compton office with their little girl was anything other than payment for services rendered, or that while they waited in his outer office, he was inside screwing their child and doing all manner of perverse things to her before, during, and after the screwing to fill the hour he had as his due.

If the person who brought her didn't have good hearing, enough evidence leaked out of the kid on the ride home that the smart parents had the child sit on a folded towel after a session with Dr. Jacob. On arrival home, Mommies attended wounds, usually lash marks from a belt or thin rod, also minute puncture wounds made by horrible clips and clamps mostly in the genitalia area or on tender nipples.

Dr. Jacob was rough on the girls, a mean child molester who did not reform his ways in prison; he refined them. Still, the sessions were ordered by the Council of Elders. He was the professional who had the contract, so most of the parents went for the prescribed duration of therapy, typically, one hour per week for six months. Those who could not, moved away to join another COGFC congregation or remained in their homes but left the church. They were few, less than ten percent of victim families, such was the hold exerted by The Church on the lives of its members--male heads of families, especially.

Eve's parents knew the doctor had no right to conduct business the way he did. Eve was tough to get to because her parents were so wise and vigilant. They were not wise and vigilant enough, however. They turned their backs for one minute at the Phoenix crusade/convention, and now they could not account for Eve, Pastor John, Brother Arron, and Elder Swenson, plus some group left early in Sister Melody's van (nicknamed the rolling mattress)--not a good sign.

With another headcount and car tally, everyone knew where Eve was. She was in a 1978 Ford conversion van, headed for a brief excursion through Hell with the pedal to the metal. Chances were, the Winslows would next see their daughter early on Sunday morning. She'd be in Pastor John's private office, probably nude, wrapped up in a blanket--cold, hungry, sore, wet and sticky, covered in angry red marks from collar to heels with the striping being thick and bright red in the crotch.

After the contrite pastor made his confession before the congregation and begged forgiveness, one of the elders would take over and the parents would be asked to join him in the office. Dr. Jacob would be called in or might be waiting. The church secretary, Evelyn Henderson, would be there comforting, calming, serving refreshments. The offender reform committee chairperson, Ann Dobbins, would join the group, as would a representative or two from the rape awareness group of the church--usually a married couple with rape bait children--former victims who had sat in the chairs of shame and despair several times.

After the service, all ten of the church elders would join the group along with the young women's youth leader, Kay Smith. At this time, the group, now numbering between ten and twenty, would adjourn to the choir practice room.

What would under most circumstances and in any other church be a very somber and subdued meeting, a rare event to "get the facts straight," was in Pastor John's church more a perv social event to hear, firsthand, the juicy story from two sides while watching red-faced parents squirm before a child dying a thousand deaths through humiliation.

Pastor John used these choir room sessions as recruiting tools, bringing in those members who looked ready to play, and sometimes, members who needed more numbing, or punishment--or a cheap thrill, a reason to remain in the flock, pay tithing, and put up with pulpit bullshit. Known to some as Sunday Ordeals, to others as Sunday Sessions, and still others as the Sunday Social, the investigative meeting ordered by the mother church was an X-rated farce and a regular after-church-service event that most members secretly wanted to watch but few wanted to be featured in.

Dr. Jacob's role was to see that the performance stayed juicy, that the victim suffered further humiliation and exposure, and that the little slut got a big chunk of the blame for her rape/molestation. He was very good at what he did. Before he'd be through, the poor girl, naked, often on an exam table with her feet in stirrups, would have to accept some form of church punishment in addition to a Dr. Jacob therapy sentence, and the parents would be under church-ordered censure--essentially binding them to cooperate if they wanted to remain in the family of The Church.

Any system of justice would do flip flops over the system these poor families were subjected to. Those going in knew they were fucked going in with no higher court to complain to. Once the facts were out and the pastor received his inspiration from the Holy Spirit (God pronouncing sentence) those who had to serve under the terms of the sentence had two choices--serve or be excommunicated (cast into Hell while still alive--doomed). Rightness, wrongness, justice or injustice had nothing to do with it, so who does one complain to and about what.

In their world, having given their lives over to God, all things were directed by Him and only He knew the reasons, whys, and wherefores. If you got raped, God arranged it. If the rapist got off scot-free, He arranged that, too. If you, the rapee accidentally got convicted, thrown in a male prison by accident, and became the recreation yard pussy, that was God's doing, too. Trying to figure out why God did what he did was considered fool's folly, much like sheep wondering why the shepherd made a funny face while he masturbated.

The procedure ordered from the mother church was meant to place an embarrassing spotlight on the offenders, shaming them into the straight path. With Dr. Jacob's help and many co-conspirators, the reverse was true. They placed the victim on trial with the parents being culpable and responsible. The spotlight was more a stage light with the victim's crotch in the center.

On the way back to L.A., Karen and Bob Winslow should have been driving separate cars carrying other people's children--boys with Bob, girls with Karen. Instead, Karen gave over her car to Sister Melody and rode with Bob and the boys, scrunched up next to Bob with two boys in the front--four in the back, her right thigh exchanging body heat with a very hot boy Eve's age, with Karen and the boy both wearing loose shorts. They had all been playing volleyball right before leaving, so they were still dressed for volleyball.

The fourteen-year-old boy was evidently and obviously excited by the news of Eve's downfall as though Eve losing her virginity would somehow benefit him. Since Buddy Roberts was a son of Pastor John Roberts, he had every reason to think that way. Virgins were off limits to him, but ex-virgins were easy for the Pastor's son who could rape with impunity. Unmarried ex-virgins had no protection from anyone except parents, and most parents shrugged their ex-virgins' complaints off as being trivial. No parent would complain to the Pastor, so Buddy and his brothers (and their friends and anyone who gave them money) had a license to fuck rape victims. If he thought he could subdue the bitch, he could get pussy. Eve could be a handful for Buddy, but she could be subdued.

The other boys, mostly younger and including their two sons, Greg and Robby (12, 10), were just as excited but less vocal. As Buddy's best buddies, they could ensure that Eve got subdued. Excitement filled the atmosphere as young men speculated and fantasized. Anxiety filled the same atmosphere as parents weighed their few options and thought about the Sunday Charade that was the worst-kept secret in church history. The few who had never been involved in one heard plenty from the many who had. Karen and Bob Winslow knew enough to know that Eve's week was just the beginning of their ordeal.

Naughty words that boys could never use kept assailing Sister Karen's ears as the horny boys speculated above a whisper and embarrassed her by asking her what she thought was going on, or where Eve was, or what might be happening to her. Intermittent giggles filled the car through every mile, and then there was that boy's bare leg pressing against her own when they weren't that cramped for space in the roomy Lincoln.

This was their worst nightmare multiplied by three and compounded by six little Indian braves--or bolds. Even their own braves got bold in the back seat, apparently thrilled by their shy and attractive older sister's fate. Eve had beauty even young siblings could appreciate. They wanted her. Eve knew it. Everyone in the family knew it. She had that effect on everyone--just too cute for her own good.

Karen quieted everyone a number of times, and would chastise the use of four letter words that were too loud to ignore. She admonished Greg and Robby twice as often as the group as a whole, and that was before leaving the Phoenix city limits. After a while, trying to control their excitement became pointless and her ears became numb to the profanity.

Mr. Hotleg had a lot to do with her numbing now that he kept moving his leg against her own and every other word was fuck or a derivation of fuck. Bob even caught some of that not-so-subtle leg action, but he must have thought it was cute because he never said anything. Karen thought it was cute, too, at first, but after fifteen minutes of rubbing, he was getting to her and making her panties moist.

Karen leaned close to whisper in Bob's ear, "This little foul-mouthed shit is feeling me up, Bob. Don't you think you should say something?"

Bob was amused, not at the boy but at his wife. She could very well tell the boy to stop, and Buddy kept going because she didn't stop him. In their society, it was quite all right for one man to screw another man's wife and for them to bear children, as long as the husband consented.

Classic bigamy was illegal, but many families lived in communal homes called Clans. Some couples lived as one family, and some adults lived in three, four, and five-way relationships. The practice, which amounted to bigamy, was never frowned on if sanctioned as an alternative marriage arrangement by church law. There were bastards aplenty and determining the father of a child was never questioned as long as the father was a member of the church. Pastor John, in fact, was said to have fathered more children than any other man, and he wasn't legally married to any of his five significant others.

Monogamous couples made up more than half of the church families, and church families were made up mostly of kids. Two thirds of the congregation was under the age of eighteen. Adult women out-numbered adult men three to one, so the total number of family units was quite low for a three-hundred member church--roughly thirty.

The Winslows were a monogamous couple that lived outside a clan and they had only three children, a very small family by COGFC standards, but they had recently discussed allowing Pastor John to father a child in Karen as a way of getting on his good side to spare Eve, at least, from Pastor John. He was the biggest threat to any virgin and the one Eve worried most about.

It was a man's place to object to another man's advances on a spouse, but a woman could and should defend her own modesty from any boy. Bob found it amusing that his lovely wife treated that boy as though he had the rights of a fully grown man, as though he, too, were a member of the adult priesthood--Pastor Junior.

This told Bob that his wife might not stop the boy even with others looking on--very unusual behavior for his former Mormon wife who joined Bob's church but had always thought of them as hypocrites and fools, traitors to the true church in Salt Lake City, led by degenerate idiots posing as men of God (the COGs, not the Mormons).

The backseat boys kept checking out the action Buddy had going on, and the boy beside Buddy, Alan, always had a ringside seat. Karen didn't appear to mind all those young eyes staring at her passivity in the face of a bold and obvious seduction. This told Bob that his lovely wife was horny--extremely horny. He wasn't sure what excited her--the boy's rubbing, all the eyes watching, or their sexy daughter's fate, but something had her vaginal motor humming like a cheap blender on puree.

All possibilities seemed equally out of character for her. Seeing a side of her he had never seen except in bed when she shared her craziest fantasies, he wanted to get to the bottom of this mystery. Bob leaned to her and whispered, "They're excited and horny. Can you blame them?"

She leaned back to him and whispered, "I understand that, but this one is getting awfully familiar with my leg and we have a long way to go. I just thought I'd mention it in case you hadn't noticed."

He whispered, "There's a full moon streaming moonlight in through my window. We all noticed. I would imagine we'll all notice for another four or five hours."

She whispered, "Bob, that little devil just placed his hand on my bare thigh, and he's not keeping it still. The way he's going, I'll be knocked up by the time we reach the California border."

Bob did not expect this response, the implication of which suggested she would be willing to go all the way with Buddy. This was not the woman he followed to Phoenix, but he was intrigued with the one he was returning with if she would actually follow through.

Clearly, the decision was his. She awaited his response as though asking his permission. Bob found no reason to whisper, so he said in a normal tone, "I have eyes, Karen, and by the looks of things, I'd say you're being optimistic about making it to the border without getting pregnant. I do hope you're wearing clean panties. I hope you're wearing panties, period."

Border? Pregnant? Clean panties? The boys, including Buddy, didn't know what to make of this, but they wanted to hear more and hoped the whispering was all finished.

Karen appeared relieved as she also responded in a normal tone, saying, "Of course I am wearing clean panties, and I am holding you responsible for keeping them that way."

Interesting, very interesting, and then Karen said, "Bob, what are we going to do about Sunday? My god, all three of those perverts have her and they'll have her for almost an entire week. Nothing like this has ever happened, ever. We'll be in the choir room for hours, all afternoon, probably, and what about Eve? Can you imagine what shape she'll be in?"

"Yes, I can imagine, and I think a lot of the priesthood is doing just that."

"Bob, shame on you if this is turning you on."

"I might say the same to you, Sweetheart. If you slip your shorts off, I'll slip mine off. We'll see who is turned on by this. We all will."

Excited giggles filled the car and the backseat boys hung over the front seat to see if any shorts were coming off. Karen ignored them as she said, "If my lap weren't lit up like daylight and your lap weren't in shadow, I think I would just so your sons can see what type of father they have. [leaning close to whisper] Oh, god, Bob, this little bastard's fingers are venturing inside the leg openings of my shorts!"

In a regular voice, Bob said, "Yes, they most certainly are. A few more miles and I can ask him if the crotch of your panties are wet, can't I?"

Karen, still whispering into his ear, said, "Bob! Say something! If you don't say something, there will soon be a very embarrassing scene going on in my lap. I'm leaving this up to you. I'm serious. Remember who we have riding in this car, and no son should have to bear witness to such a thing, plus anything we say or do will go straight to Pastor John's ears. You know where it will go from there, don't you?"

Refusing to whisper, Bob said, "I'm well aware of that, Dear, and I disagree. No son should be denied a peek at his mother's pussy."

This brought on laughing approval and chants for shorts removal along with panties. Karen waited for the laughter and chants to die down before responding out loud, "You are no better than the men molesting our daughter, Bob Winslow. You Cog men are all perverts hiding under the robes of priesthood. It's no wonder the women in this church feel like nothing more than breeding stock. I'm surprised you don't place us in stalls, breed us like cattle, and milk us like cows."

The boys liked her idea. Bob said, "Show them your udders, Karen, maybe they'll try to milk you."

The boys encouraged her to show her udders, and Buddy had the balls to reach for the buttons on her blouse. She lightly parried his attempts without getting upset, and ignored the others who encouraged him. In the next mile, Buddy managed to get to her panties with one hand and get three blouse buttons undone with the other, wildly exciting the onlookers.

Karen did her best to look cool and calm as Buddy made steady progress. She could see that Bob was amused. With Buddy digging in her crotch with nothing but clenched legs to bar the way as both of Karen's hands were guarding her hooters, Karen looked to Bob as he said, "I just had a thought, Karen. Chances are, they pulled into the first rest stop they came to for a little game of slap and tickle with Eve. What say we check it out? If we spot them, we can spy on them while Buddy gets you unwrapped."

"Bob Winslow, are you telling me that if you saw them, you wouldn't intervene?"

"No, not now. They have her, fair and square. They'd get mighty upset if we even tried."

"Are you also telling me that you would allow this young man to strip me naked, right here in the car?"

"It's a long trip, Karen, and they're all wide awake. I need some way to amuse them. Can you think of a better way to amuse six horny boys than with a sexy woman who refuses to say no? I can't."

Evidently, she couldn't either, because she sat with her arms folded under her mature breasts and permitted all manner of digital indiscretion from every quarter after Buddy squirmed his fingers deep into her crotch and began rummaging around in search of a hole without being admonished.

The others took that silent permission and Bob's comments as a green light. After that, Karen sat under a barrage of groping little hands that ran inside her clothing over bare flesh in intimate areas while keeping a sharp lookout for rest areas.

When the first sign for one appeared in the distance, Karen had her chest bare and tits being pulled and pushed in several directions at once. Buddy had unsnapped and unzipped her shorts and had moved them and the panties down her legs after she lifted clear of the seat to assist. With a naked lower half to work with, though the legs were together, he found the hole and got two fingers working in as though he'd done that before.

Karen was so impressed with Buddy's finger fucking effort that she pulled her left leg free of the shorts and panties then laid her freed leg over Bob's lap to make the job easier while saying, "There's one, Bob, the first--one mile ahead. If they stopped for a quickie, chances are, they stopped there."

Bob moved into the slow lane and slowed, saying, "Why don't you just shrug free of that top and bra, Karen?"

She may as well, so she did, also kicking off the shorts and panties, then sat back naked in her sandals and said, "If they are here, should we let them see us?"

"What would be the point unless you want Pastor John to see what he'll be planting his seed in?"

Karen knew that would come out sooner or later. The boys were quite amused, further amused as Bob explained that they'd soon have a baby brother or sister that looked like the Pastor. Though she and Bob had only recently discussed the possibility, she now confirmed her willingness to be bred to the Pastor, exciting them even further. She then said, "The point of letting them see us is that if they knew that we knew and did nothing, isn't that like giving our okay? I mean, if we can't prevent it or stop it, why not okay it and avoid the Sunday charade. As her father, don't you have the right within church law to turn her over to the priesthood for her sexual education or breeding?"

While turning to enter the lot, Bob said, "Good idea, Karen, but I think you miss the point of the Sunday Inquisition. It's an exhibition and the other half of their molestation. The Sunday charade is where the parents get their humiliation. Most would say the Sunday charade is the worst part. The pervs might say it was the best part. No, they wouldn't like your idea; besides, if I had the right to sexually educate or breed Eve, I'd have turned her over to me three years ago."

"Yes, of course you would. How silly of me... Bob, there they are. That's Sister Melody's Ford with the windows all fogged."

Greg shouted, "Wow, and look at it go--rock 'n roll!"

Alan, the kid at the front passenger window, now holding onto Karen's right leg, pulling it high into his lap, turning a lady's crotch into a whore's beaver, said, "Man oh man, it looks like all three are fucking her at once."

Bob stopped well back of the Ford and to its rear with no other cars around and little traffic on the highway. They had crept up, so those in the Ford could not have guessed they had company. In the Lincoln, everyone sat mesmerized, and most had hold of some part of Karen's body as she laid low in the seat with her legs pulled out in opposite directions--the left leg being bent double in order to fit. With her right foot on the passenger door and her left knee pressed to the driver's door, Karen's naked cunt was up there and out there, a popular place for young hands and naughty fingers.

This humiliating and vulnerable position was not Karen's idea for it fully opened her sex and made it easy for the boys in back to reach everything. Buddy, Alan, and Bob had other ideas, therefor, Karen had everything out there for everyone to fondle and had difficulty seeing over the dashboard. She had no trouble seeing into her crotch, curled in the seat as she was. Nonetheless, she strained up while saying, "Damn, Bob, how can three grown men treat a fourteen-year-old girl that way? I mean, they just got her. Even in a molesting, isn't there some kind of warm-up?"

Watching the van rock so hard was as hard on Bob as it was on Karen. That, or she was disturbed by having the fingers of two sons fingering her birth canal. He decided it would be best for the boys chances of going further than copping feels if they got away from the van, so he said, "Apparently not. We should move along unless you want to reconsider our membership in this church?"

Karen married into the church, but Bob--though new to the L.A. congregation--spent his entire life as a member with a long family history that went back to the Mormon leader and founder, Joseph Smith. Their sect split off after Smith's death. The Mormons went one way; the Church of One God Faith in Christ went another. For a while, until bigamy was outlawed, the Mormons were even more sexually liberal than the COGs. Time has a way of reversing all things, and the COGs of the later twentieth century were certainly a breed apart--the L.A. group, especially.