She-Devil In Church Ch. 02

The Saturday morning after Isabel's entrancing soul-to-soul talk with Martha, the she-devil was back in her neighborhood church. Deep purple silk shorts hugged her sloping latina ass. Her gray jersey pin-tucked shirt with the caftan neckline showed the full dip of her breasts. The hem of the shirt clung nicely to her hips, allowing most of her short shorts to be revealed. She walked around in bamboo flip-flops and wielded a heavy-duty push-broom, sweeping up dust and the dried tears of pointless confessions from the sanctuary's floor.

Imelda, Simon's mother, came up behind Isabel with the mop and bucket. Imelda, sad and serious, kept her distance, furtively looking Isabel's way when she wasn't keeping a guarded eye on the men.

She didn't feel safe. She knew this group was the worst of the wicked faction that now dominated a church that had once been such a wonderful and uplifting place, her refuge from a troubled world. But now trouble seemed everywhere.

Imelda had slept fairly well the night before. Friday nights were good nights because her son came home sexually spent from his encounter with Isabel and her husband would not touch her out of his own anticipation for sex games in the morning.

The men present were Imelda's husband Ricardo, Martha's father Jose, and Osvaldo's father Oscar. She could hear them making noise as they went about replacing rotted planks on the old wooden deck that led to the rear entrance of the church.

On the surface, it seemed like a pleasant Saturday. Industrious, church-going people, tending to the needs of an old sanctuary. But Imelda lamented in her mind at how decayed from within the church had become. Every passing month the sincere worshipers seemed more dispirited, discouraged at how long it was taking their God to bring cleansing, to punish the wicked. And Imelda found herself in deep crisis, fighting off the lustful advances of her own son. How could he be so disrespectful and so bold? It shocked her senses and left her thoughts tossing. like a leaf in a storm.

All Imelda had to do was look at that slut and she knew where all her anguish came from. That slut! Look at her, dressed to provoke. Imelda was in a long, loose-fitting off-white x-large t-shirt with a simple silk-screen print of a an armadillo with a cowboy hat. Her slacks covered her and kept her from looking in any way like a woman who would dare draw attention from whore-mongers.

Isabel, aware yet unconcerned with Imelda's views of her, swept steadily, enjoying the mild burn in her muscles. She perspired and her thoughts were self-absorbed, constantly conscious of her beauty. She ran an inner dialogue filled with vanity, thinking of the men as if they were horny drones, ever anxious to attach themselves to her.

Imelda grimaced at the sight of the temptress. And those shorts! There was no pantyline, Imelda observed. Of course not, she thought. Why would that whore wear panties? They're all going to fuck her as soon as I leave, anyway.

The women made their way through the sanctuary, cleaning the main hall, then the stage and the narrow hall in the back and the rear bathrooms. Then they went up front to the lobby, then up the stairs and there they make quick work of the nursery room, the Bible study classrooms - all five of them. They went into the media control room and then back downstairs to leave the cleaning implements in the storage closet.

Imelda and Isabel were both sweaty and they took a break, walking out of the church and across the parking lot. Isabel lifted her keys and opened the door to the social hall. She went in first and went to the refrigerator in the kitchen, took out two diet colas and passed one to Imelda.

"I want a regular cola," Imelda said.

Isabel looked Imelda over with a slight frown, as if to note her disagreement. Imelda clearly could stand to lose more than a few pounds.

"Of course, Imelda."

Isabel put back the diet cola and got a can of regular. As she was about to put it in Imelda's hand, she said, "I tell you what. Take the diet, instead, and I'll see to it your son doesn't lay a hand on you for two weeks."

Imelda's eyes popped and she blushed. A shiver of anger came up from the pit of her stomach, into her throat and made her jaw clench on edge. How did Isabel know?! Was there nothing her son didn't share with this bitch?

"I'm not interested in you, Imelda," the she-devil continued. "It would make life around her more pleasant if I could persuade you to have a more tolerant outlook."

Imelda's blush deepened and she struggled to find her voice. But she had two daughters younger than Simon, girls she desperately wanted to protect from all this insanity. She wanted to say, Go to Hell, you filthy whore. But since that was going to happen, anyway, Imelda dug deeper.

"You're not interested in me, but what about my daughters?"

Isabel smiled. Yes, now we're getting to the heart of Imelda's motivation.

"What about them?" Isabel said placidly. "What would you do for them, to protect them from those men."

Imelda sensed danger in the questions, but she blurted her honest feelings before giving it more thought. "I would do anything to protect them!"

"Anything?" Isabel said, and now again thrusting the cold can forward, this time between Imelda's breasts.

Imelda took the can. And nodded a yes as tears welled up in her eyes. She was 41 years old, past what she thought of as her prime. And no longer fresh and pretty, but still pleasantly plump.

"There is something you can do for me," Isabel said. "Something simple enough. And if you do this, I will protect you from your son and no one in this church will bother your girls."

Imelda felt a dread and wondered who she would have to fuck. Perhaps all of them? But that was not Isabel's plan.

"Martha is falling, she is coming to us," Isabel said.

Imelda felt a sickness in her stomach at the news. She suspected as much, but it hurt nonetheless to have the suspicion confirmed.

"I want any blame that comes from this to fall on you," Isabel said.

Imelda was shocked. How could anyway possibly think it would be anyone other than Isabel that corrupted a good girl?

But Isabel was worried about her father's promise. She wanted a way to deflect his anger. He was difficult enough to deal with.

"Martha will be spending time with you. Change your wardrobe. Go to the gym with Martha, lose some weight and let the other women think you've gone over to my side. They don't have to know you're not fucking anybody. Just let them think you are, and let them think Martha has come under your influence."

Imelda shook her head no. She frowned and protested, "No one will believe anything to do with her is coming from me. Why me? You don't need me for that. Since when do you care what people think of you? I ... I don't want to hurt Martha."

"She's going to fall anyway. She already has. The little whore is fucking her father!"

That jolted Imelda. She gasped. If the girl is so far gone she would do that, oh Lord!

There was a silence and Isabel smirked, then patted Imelda gently on the wrist, "Think about it. You have time to think about it."

Isabel left Imelda alone with her thoughts in the social hall and sauntered out to go visit the men repairing the back porch. She was chatting with them for several minutes about the back porch, the weather and other mundane subjects, up until the moment Imelda emerged from the social hall, went to her car and got into the driver's seat. Imelda looked down the corner and looked at Isabel. Isabel smiled back and waved bye bye.

Imelda started the engine, pulled out and as she was leaving, her husband Ricardo grabbed Isabel's ass and squeezed. Isabel spanked his forearm, "Stop it, not yet."

He pulled away and Isabel walked around him and sat on the top step of the porch. Isabel looked at Jose, "How did it go with Martha?"

The other men looked at Oscar and he grinned. He had already told Ricardo and Oscar. He grabbed his crotch, squeezed on his throbbing snake and said, "Little bitch opened her legs and begged for it, just like you said she would."

"Good! Very good," Isabel said, a self-satisfied and prideful smiling betraying her wicked intent. Then she looked at Ricardo.

"Richie, tell you son to stop bothering his mom. No more touching. The little perv needs to back off."

Ricardo took that in with some surprise. "Why? I thought you loved that shit from him. I know I do, ha ha haaa!"

The others laughed with him, but Isabel wasn't moved. "I mean it. Tell him to back off. He's getting plenty of action without having to do that. Besides, I need her."

"You need that fat cow? For what," Ricardo asked.

"She's going to take the blame when we do to Martha what we did to Naomi," Isabel said. "And I need her for that. There is enough anger at me already. I don't need anymore."

"Shit, how is she going to catch the blame," Oscar asked.

"I'm working on it," Isabel said. "It will all work out, but Imelda needed some incentive to cooperate, so we're leaving her alone and we're leaving your daughters alone, Ricardo. You should be grateful."

Ricardo shrugged, not so sure that he was grateful, but he nodded a yes and said, "Okay, I'll tell the peckerwood to lay off the old bitch."

Ricardo sat down on the porch next to Isabel, bringing his arm around her back and squeezing the flesh of her waist, "Baby, I'm horny. Let's get busy."

Isabel twisted into him and kissed Ricardo full on the mouth, enjoying his tongue as he enjoyed her's. Oscar knelt down in front of her and reaching between her thick, firm thighs he scratched at the camel toe of her cunt in purple slick shorts. She enjoyed their attentions, kissing as she was fondled.

The back porch at the corner of the building was hidden enough from traffic that she was unconcerned about anyone seeing them. Jose unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, stroking it with his right hand, and harrumphing, "What about me. I just fucked my own daughter. I should get special treatment."

"Mmmm," Isabel broke the kiss, looked at Jose and smile. "Yes, daddy. Nasty daddy! Yes you should get some special treatment."

Jose stepped in as the others made room, bitch-slapped Isabel's face with throbbing cock and made her swing her face around to catch the bobbing cock so she could suck it. Slurping on his erect cock, painted lips streaking maroon red on the pulsing prick, sucking, sucking, sucking, her full lips a perfectly shaped O-ring, providing wet friction, the soft slup sound of a cocksucker, neck muscles exercising, a whore's tongue curled with point up, the tip of her tongue constantly pressed against the big vein and tapping and tapping into the underside of Jose's uncircumsized, 39-year-old sex organ.

The others got excited and stroked as they watched. Ricardo and Oscar each pulled out a tit and pulled at her nipples. Oscar began a chant: "Altar fuck, altar fuck, altar fuck!"

The she-devil moaned and smiled with her mouth full, pulled her head back quick, making her hair bounce more than usual and smacked her lips of the head and said, "Yesssssss!"

The four wicked hearts stood and walked into the sanctuary, locking the door behind them. Ricardo hurried up to the media room and pulled out a hidden CD of a Satanic metal band from a drawer and put on one of their favorite songs. As the music began, he trotted out and down the stairs to find Isabel already naked at the altar, her clothes having formed a clump on the tile next to her. Oscar and Jose had also stripped naked.

"A demon dogs domain, laughing at the holy cross and chanting Satan's name," the singer wailed, "plundering a virgin's cunt and ripping out her

guts. Another whore of evil made ... "

The men, all three, jumped in and sang, "We call Satanic Slut, Satanic Slut!"

The Bible was closed and removed from atop the altar and in its place Isabel rested her full, sweaty, slutty tits and Jose took his place behind her bent over naked body, cock in hand, he plunged in and joyously, wickedly sang as he thrusted himself into the collective's brazen whore.

"A sexual need is fed," he sang, "She begins to writhe! Her smile full of lust, you're condemned to Hell."

Now unbridled and inflamed, the men became jackals, slapping her ass cheeks to watch them bounce and turn red, scratching her back and thighs, jerking her hair and swatting her face. "Fuck that cock, whore!" Ricardo barked.

Isabel let out an "aahhh!" with an open-mouthed, trembling grin. She jerked her hips and put her ass in overdrive, fucking back on Jose's enraged and stabbing cock.

Oscar used the edge of the stage to raise himself and get between the pulpit and the altar and thrust forward his hips and direct his cock to her lips. With eyes wide and her face in a horny snarl, Isabel opened her filthy lips and swallowed the head of his prick, moaning into her suckfest, "Uhmmmmm, mmmm!"

"The bitch of hell starts to grin, she can turn a holy man to a world of sin," the lyrics filled the air and defiled the House of Worship.

Jose reveled in thrusting, releasing her hair so she could suck properly, his hands crept around her waist and he found a swollen clit to torment as she "mmmmphed" on cock and jacks her dirty ass back to milk his wet daughter-fucking pole.

His bloodstream spiked with Viagra, Jose hammered into Isabel for over an hour, forcing her into one orgasm after another. Her whore cunt squirted and drooled slut juice and cum down her thighs and calves. She stood in the juices of their sex as Ricardo and Oscar took turns gag-fucking her throat and doing their best to exhaust her and tame her high-powered spirit. But nothing they did could make her beg them to stop.

Her face a mess of spit, cum and sweat, smeared lipstick and smudged mascara, Isabel panted and slurped and drained one cock after another, even while she suffered cramping orgasm. Her sturdy thighs trembled but she moved relentlessly, daring them to go on. They cursed and fucked themselves into collapse. Each man slumping away to rest.

When they were done, Isabel let her head hang over the edge of the altar. Her neck was sore. Sweat poured from every pore. She had done what she needed to do to keep them her's, and to keep them in line. Sitting two yards behind her, Ricardo looked at the puffy, wet cunt, still exposed and always inviting. He watched her snatch glisten with Jose's fresh cum, watching as more cum leaked from her filthy hole.

Summoning her strength, Isabel pushed up and stood. She looked around at the men, all of them sitting on the two front pews. They were dazed and satisfied and so was she. The music had long ago stopped. The silence was the only witness to their sins, or so it seemed to them. But Satan had been invited into the House and Isabel felt Him. The fingertips of a hot invisible hand caressed, first at her neck, then down her spine. She shivered out of fear, and despite the heat, suddenly felt a coldness in her womb. She shivered and the men asked if something was wrong.

Her eyes rolled up in her head and invisible hands palmed her ass cheeks. She moaned and felt compelled to open her stance, and when she did a Satanic hand slithered down the crack of her ass and under and parted her pussy. The cunt of the whore was suddenly fisted and she cried, "Aahhhhh! Nnnnnn, He is here!"

The men reached for their cocks and stroked excitedly, for they could see the motions of a cunt that was clearly being stretched and violently disturbed, even though was no visible sign of an object causing it. As she moaned, now hysterically, they grunted, "Yes! Yes! Yes! Take the whore! Fuck! Fuck that whore!"

A troop of she-demons, like dark shadows, gathered around the men, whispering and seducing them.

Isabel should have fallen over, but a claw-like cold invisible hand gripped her throat. The men watched, hardly interested in coming to her aid. She cried, now terrified, "Help nnnn me!"

"Fuck her, Fuck her!" the men chanted. Crazed by demonic assault, their minds clouded with all-consuming lust, they could have let her die right then. And their total lack of concern frightened Isabel to tears and a terror beyond her experience.

Isabel told the men of this. It had happened to her twice before. But both times were in her bed, in the night, without witnesses. All alone she had been attacked. She had told them, but they did not believe. Not it was happening before their very eyes.

Neck squeezed and cunt fisted, a hot tongue slithered around her tits and she smelled a foul odor, as if from the mouth of a beast, then the mouth captured a nipple and sucked so hard the men saw it balloon and turn purple. They was dumbstruck, then howling like dogs.

"Oh, Oh! Did you see that? Fuck! Fuck her! Fuck her! Fuck her! Yeaaaa! Oh fuck yeaaa!"

With supernatural fist inside, perfectly teasing her sex, probing misshapen digits acidly heating, painfully heating her sensitive tissues, something impossibly protruding up into her cervix, Isabel came so hard she screamed at the top of her lungs and her toes turned in and her feet kicked. Suddenly she was lifted inches off the floor, as if floating, as she kicked and trembled and tried to beg for help. What squirted out of her could have filled a tumbler, she lost so much fluid. An bizarre mix of clear, pink and green liquids filled her, then spilled, slimy liquids oozed down her thighs to her feet, dripping off her painted toes to the floor.

And just as she came, she was released and the supernatural malevolent force the abused her retreated. She fell, scraping both knees and without the strength to break her fall, her face fell into the floor. She rolled onto her back, writhing and shuddering, a red welt forming on her forehead.

But in the next moment, smoking translucent hands gripped and lifted her ass.She felt the hairy silky thighs of that which is unspeakable slap into the backs of her thighs. Her eyes burst open in shock and she cried, "Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnaaaaaahhh!"

A ghostly red cock, visible now to the entranced men, lunged into her. Long and steaming, driving in and out faster than any human could possible move. Her sex partners sat in trances, their eyes glaze with lust as she-devil spirits licked their upright cocks, making them hard as steel. Isabel was speechless, wanting to shout but the pain was beyond her ability to will her lungs into engaging her vocal chords. A beastly cock streaking in and out of her like hot lightning.

And finally from her throat came a ghastly, mangled, "errr rrrrr rrrr nK!"

But a soldier of Lucifer had his way with her, released from his realm. She had brought on herself an fearsome invitation. Fucked by an alien being that fed on the lust of humans, it was his time to seal her fate and erase from her will any thought of being anything other than an unquestioning slave to his master. Cum as thick as whipped cream filled her and in the frothing hot fuck of her life, it spilled out of her hole like bubbling meringue.

It seemed like ages, but the unholy spirit was in her for barely a minute. Then the translucent forms dissipated and there was silence. Isabel slumped to the floor and writhed in place, spasms contorting her body like an epileptic.

The men sat silent, then stood almost in unison. Overwhelmed with renewed lust, they lifted her momentarily unconscious body and positioned her for a double penetration. Ricardo and Oscar did the honors while Jose slapped her awake.

When she came to, Jose smiled into her face and said, "Looked like your Lord and Master just reminded you who's boss, bitch!" And he worked his cock back into her throat.

Amazed at the renewed hardness of their cocks, the men stabbed into her orifices, hurting the she-devil that before seemed so invincible. Suddenly, she was human, less than human, a soft, bleeding, moaning, sweating, shuddering, cock-whipped, sobbing mess of a three-way cunt. A whimpering bitch. And they loved it. They loved finding power over her they had not had before. Some kind of incredible force had finally subjugated this damn slut. She was actually struggling to be free! When her throat cleared, she moaned for mercy.