The Rape of the Preacher's Wife

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I found religion early in my life, just about the time I hit puberty, and it was like God was testing me by suddenly giving me the body of a Jezebel! My breasts had quickly grown to a full D cup, my waist had shrunk to practically nothing, and my legs took on the shape and length of one of those harlot showgirls. Instead of darkening, my hair got more and more blonde as I got older. Since I was a kid, everyone had remarked on how pretty I was, but now boys and men would openly leer at me and make lewd remarks about my body. I would always cover up as best I could, wearing baggy blouses and sweaters two sizes too big for me and loose-fitting, ankle-length skirts in the drabbest colors. But they still stared. My lucky day came in May of my sixteenth year at a retreat in Maryland where I first met my husband-to-be, Matthew. He was leading evening prayer services and looked so serene and holy that I knew this was the man God a chosen for me to serve as a dutiful wife. I guess he felt the same way, because in June of that year, with my parent's blessing, we were married. We waited a little over a year to consummate our marriage, while we prayed and prayed to overcome the sin of lechery, and when we finally did make love it was modest and chaste. We never used sex "recreationally," as the fallen say, but only to produce our three lovely children. This summer, however, something happened to me that I still don't understand. Maybe I never will. Matthew was preaching a revival in Virginia over the weekend leaving me and our fifteen-year-old son, Matthew Junior, and our two young daughters, Prudence and Virtue, at home. I had gone to the store that afternoon to buy dinner. While walking up and down the aisles, I noticed two very large Negroes eyeing me, but I have become so used to men staring at me over the years that I simply ignored them. As I always do when I encounter lustful behavior in men, I resolved to pray for God to release them from the bonds of licentiousness when I got home. I admit I was a little apprehensive when I sensed that they were very obviously followed me to the checkout, and I certainly did not like the larger of the two watching me so intently as I wrote out a check for the groceries. It made me a little uncomfortable, but as I left the store, I thought nothing more of it. By the time I had picked up Matthew's suit from the cleaners and stopped by Sister Sara's to pray with her for her ailing mother, I had forgotten about it completely. When I got home, I called for Matt to come help with the groceries, but he didn't answer, which surprised me because he's always so dutiful. Then, as I entered the house, out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed something odd, and when I turned I saw to my horror Matt being held around the neck by one of the black men I had seen in the supermarket. I dropped the bag of groceries I had carried in and started to scream. Suddenly, a large hand clamped over my mouth from behind me. "Scream and we cut the kid, bitch," he said. I just froze. Kicking the door shut behind him, he relaxed his grip on my mouth, grabbed me by my hair, jerked my head back and said menacingly, "All we want to do is fuck you, bitch, fill yo' sweet pussy with something you ain't never had. So just do what we tell you and we don't touch the kid. You get youself a good nigger fucking, nobody don't get hurt, and ever'body be happy. I was stunned. "Please, please just take what you want and leave" was all I could stupidly say. He just laughed and reached for my breasts and began to squeeze them. I could have died of embarrassment when my nipples began to stiffen beneath his horrid black hands. And thank you, bitch, for writing out that check so nice and clear. Make it a lot easier to find you. Fact, I'm sayin' to Jamal, bitch must want us to find her, she writin' so big and clear, he started laughing, twisting my breasts painfully in his horrid black paws. My nipples remained embarrassingly hard and erect. My embarrassment quickly turned to fear, however, when the second man handed him his knife and he quickly snipped away the buttons to my blouse. I was nearly paralyzed by the time he cut my bra loose and my breasts tumbled into his filthy hands. "Look at the size of these fucking tits, Jamal," he said, grinning in anticipation. In an instant, he was mauling my breasts and tonguing my nipples. I froze in dread, and as I felt Jamal behind me slit my skirt and watched it fall to the ground at my feet, I desperately prayed for deliverance from this horror. My panties were gone an instant latter. I was suddenly completely nude, shaking in fright. Each time I tried to cover my breasts or vagina, one of them would jerk my hands away. The first man, Raheem, who was apparently Jamal's older cousin, ordered me to turn slowly around while they commented on every part of my body in the most lewd and awful language. They probed me and opened me. One massaged my clitoris, the other twisted my nipples. But what terrified me most came after they had finished their inspection of me. "Listen up, bitch," Raheem hissed, squeezing my breasts in his disgusting hands. "You our ho now and you goin' do 'xactly what we say and just like we say it or the boy get his nuts cut off him. You hear?" Reaching down to my vagina, he twisted a clump of my pubic hair around his finger and pulled it tight. "First thing you do is go on in that bathroom and get youself all prettied up for us," he continued. "We want you shave that pussy till it's smooth as a baby's butt, like me and Jamal like it. We want to see our big black cocks fuckin' up your sweet little white pussy. If it ain't what we like, we'll take care of it for you." And with that, he gave a quick hard jerk and ripped the clump of pubic hair twined around his finger from my body. I nearly fainted from the shock and pain. I only dimly heard him continue his instructions. "When you get done fixing that pussy up real nice, you put on some makeup and somethin' real sexy like. You come out all sexy and slutty like, teasin' us, makin' us hot. Both these big black dicks better be hard ten seconds after you walk back in here or you be eating this boy's balls, bitch! You hear?" I nodded my head, but I don't know how I made it to the bathroom I was so frightened. I thought momentarily of trying to escape, but those horrid Negroes' threats and the terrified look on my son's face erased all such thoughts. I would obey them and pray that our torment would quickly pass. In the shower, my hand trembled almost uncontrollably. I just could not do what they wanted. But again, the terrified expression on my son's face appeared to me, and I took up the razor and began ruefully to do as they had commanded me. Once I had started, I took special care to do exactly as they said, making my private parts absolutely smooth. I did the same to my legs, even though I know the bible forbids that. Out of fear for my son, I took considerable care not to offend my tormenters in any way. The makeup was going to be more difficult, as I don't wear it at all except on special occasions. I did find some old lipstick and a nearly dry bit of eyeliner and did the best I could. And then, I guess the devil must have entered my soul. I am so, so ashamed. I fell victim to venal temptation. Pride overwhelmed my Christian soul. As I stood staring at my now utterly nude body, horrid vanity took hold of me. The woman I saw in the mirror was stunningly beautiful. My hair seemed radiantly blonde. The makeup accentuated my eyes, and my lips looked pouting and full, like the girls I see on magazine covers. My breasts, always large and firm, even though I'm nearly thirty-four now and the mother of three children, jutted proudly from my chest. There wasn't even the hint of sag. My waist looked wasp thin, especially against the fullness of my breasts, and accentuated the graceful curve of my hips. My legs seemed impossibly long and shapely. My bottom jutted out ever so provocatively. But what is still most shocking to me, what I adored most was the way I looked now that I was shaved and totally and clearly exposed. My body seemed to cry out for attention. It asked to be caressed. In my miserable, godless vanity, I doubted very much that it would take those men more than ten seconds to be aroused. Though I felt terribly ashamed for having such vain thoughts, I couldn't entirely blot out the growing pride in my own sexuality. What was wrong with me! I had nothing at all sexy to wear, of course. I'm a preacher's wife, after all. So I decided that the best thing I could do was simply wrap myself in a small bath towel that would allow most of my breasts to show, the lower part of my bottom, and of course all of my long, lithe legs. I hoped it would be enough to satisfy them. I had to protect my son from these ravening beasts, I again convinced myself. I guess it finally really didn't matter what I was wearing because Jamal had the towel off of me before I had taken two steps into the room. "Goddamn," they both said. "This bitch be lookin' fine." I hated it that they took the Lord's name in vain, but I hated it even more that their words gave me a slight tingle of pleasure. I fought the feeling with all my strength. Their hands and mouths were on me instantly, and I felt their genitals hardening well before the ten seconds were up. Then, with Raheem kneeling down and slowly beginning to lick the edges of my freshly shaved vagina and Jamal expertly tonguing my nipples, a shocking moan escaped my lips. I knew I was on the verge of falling into perdition. I thought I couldn't possibly be more embarrassed until I looked up and saw that my captures had tied Matt to a chair directly in front of me. He was staring intently at me. My own son was being forced to watch me being assaulted by these hideous animals. And I had just moaned in pleasure! I vowed to banish all impure feelings and be strong in my purity for my son. Jamal took me to a table, which he had placed right in front of Matt and pushed me down on my back so Matt was staring directly at my bare vagina. And then the real horror began. Jamal was the first to pull his penis from his pants. It was ghastly. It was jet black, as thick as my wrist, and it must have been at least nine or ten inches long. I believe it was the first male sexual organs I had ever seen. I had felt my husband's inside of me, of course, but I don't believe that I had ever touched it or looked directly at it. I knew, though, that it couldn't look anything like this monstrous weapon. Then Raheem showed himself. If anything, his was even more frightening -- perhaps a little thicker and certainly longer. He had a massive head at the end that thickened to a base that looked like a tree trunk. I knew that they would rend me if they tried to have sex with me. I feared it would be fatal. Jamal grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head to the edge of the table, letting it dangle over the edge. "Open wide, ho," he grunted. "You about to get yo' face fucked good," he groaned. Almost literally scared to death, I closed my eyes and timidly opened my mouth. I felt his enormous shaft press against my lips and force its way into my mouth, and then suddenly he pulled out. Instantly I was seeing stars from the force of four hard, vicious slaps across my face. "Two things, bitch. You keep yo' eyes open and yo' teeth off my cock. Now suck it!" Before I could say anything, he reentered my mouth, pushing hard at the back of my throat. I was gagging and having a hard time breathing when suddenly my attention was diverted to the other end of the table. Raheem's gigantic tool was starting to probe my vulva, and as I felt my labia being pried open and the first few inches of Raheem's mammoth shaft invading my unsullied vagina, I tried to cry out "No! No!" but with Jamal deep in my mouth, I guess it sounded more like a moan of pleasure. Both of them commented on how quickly I was getting turned on. I feared Matt would think the same thing. When Jamal pulled out of my mouth to watch Raheem begin to rape me, I begged them both to please be satisfied with my mouth. I was ovulating, I told them, and pleaded and pleaded with Raheem not to ejaculate inside me. I would gladly let them do anything else to me, I told them. He just laughed and lifted my legs to his shoulders and repositioned me so that he could have better access to my fertile womb. As his first hard thrust tore into me, the thickness of his genitals seemed to drive my clitoris half way back into my belly. I had never felt anything in the world remotely like that. I first realized how enormous he really was when I felt him quickly surpass the depth my husband had ever penetrated me and realized he wasn't even a quarter of the way in inside me. Much worse, to my complete humiliation, I instantly responded. I was dripping wet in a second. Each hard trust drove more and more of his massive instrument deeper and deeper into areas of my body that had never been touched. And then two particularly vicious, long, hard thrusts suddenly found him banging hard up against my cervix. Looking down, I realized to my shock that he still wasn't all the way inside me. He had more cock than I could hold, I discovered. Oddly enough, I felt ashamed of my inability, like I wasn't really woman enough. "That all the pussy you got, cunt?" Raheem said coldly. "That's the only trouble with white pussy, ain't it, Jamal baby. Every time we rape some white cunt we got to rip her open to get a decent fuck. I still got four more inches to go, bitch. Where you want me to put 'em?" I was in such a curious state. The pain of his literally tearing into my vagina and his relentless assault on my cervix was nearly unbearable, but at the same time I had begun to feel deep, deep inside a mound of pleasure that was growing to what I knew as going to be an intense explosion. And horribly, to my complete sorrow and humiliation, and surely to my eternal damnation, I discovered that I wanted so much to experience it, just once. I had never experienced a climax, though I had heard much about them. And here inside me was a feeling that I knew would result in that dramatic experience if I let it. Even worse, and I just can't explain this, I was ashamed of not performing to Raheem's satisfaction. Insanely, I wanted my rapist to think I was a complete woman. To this day, I can not explain what was happening to me. Each time he slammed into my vulva, both the pain and the pleasure grew exponentially. I was almost literally beside myself, hearing this strange woman I had become moaning out "Oh, my God, Oh, my God," and thrashing about like the whore of Babylon. The pleasure of my first real sexual experience was overwhelming. I was being fucked by a black god. I never wanted it to stop. These appalling black pagans had exposed the wanton woman inside me. God forgive me. But suddenly, he did stop and pulled his massive tool out my sopping wet and bleeding belly. I went completely nuts. I was totally lost now, completely abandoned. I had become the devil's child. The whore I had become started moaning, "Oh, no. Don't stop. Oh, God. Please. Come back in me. Now. Fuck me, please, please, Raheem. Fuck me," I was moaning like a common slut-whore. I have no idea where that kind of language came from, but I knew I was at the edge of a spectacular climax. I desperately wanted to be pushed over. It was surely the devil talking through me. "Are you begging me, bitch?" Raheem laughed. "Oh God yes. Yes, yes, yes. I'm begging you. Please, Raheem." "You want me to cum in you, bitch" "Oh no. Please, no