The Taming of the Shithead

I fell asleep during the Tonight Show, woke up at two, and crawled into bed.

3. Bible study with the Reverend Edwards

Saturday was worse than Friday. Dr. Rosenberg ignored me most of the day, and instead of fucking me, he went out for the night and didn't tell me where he was going. I heard him come in after midnight, slamming doors and cursing. He came up to my room where I was browsing Gawker, put his cock in my mouth, and pissed for a long time. I guess he'd had a fair amount to drink, and he'd been saving it up. After he was empty I sucked him till he was hard, but he wilted after a few minutes. He snorted in disgust, turned, and stomped out of the room.

At least I had my lesson with the Reverend Edwards to look forward to. He wasn't letting me attend services, since members of the congregation were threatening to withhold their offerings because of me, but he cared about my soul and gave me private Bible lessons every Sunday at one.

"I can't fuck you today," I said to the Reverend as I came into his office and sat in the chair on the other side of his big wooden desk. "Dr. Rosenberg says he owns me and I'm only allowed to have sex with him."

The Reverend stared at me for a second, startled, and then smiled and said, "That's fine, Brenda. The important thing is our Bible study, right?"

"That's right, Reverend," I said, relieved. I'd been afraid he'd be mad at me about it.

"Today is communion Sunday, Brenda," he said, getting up and rummaging in a cabinet behind his desk. "I want you to be able to participate." When he turned towards me, he was holding a plate with two tiny cups of grape juice on it and two big brownies. "Reverend," I said, "this isn't unleavened bread."

"I ran out of that," he said. "And there's no reason why the communion bread shouldn't be tasty. You do like chocolate, right?"

"I do," I said, realizing I'd forgotten to eat lunch and was really hungry.

"Communion needs to be done in a community, so I have one for me too," he said, picking up one of the cups and downing it. "We'll make a community of two. Bottoms up."

He picked up one of the brownies and took a bite, and I did the same. It was delicious, and I ate it quickly and washed it down with the grape juice.

"Do you understand what communion is about, Brenda?" asked the Reverend, chewing the last of his brownie and licking his fingers.

"It's the body and blood of Jesus, right?"

"Not literally," said the Reverend. "The Catholics believe the bread and wine are literally our Lord's body and blood, but that's dangerous nonsense. A cracker is just a cracker."

"Then what is it, Reverend?"

He pulled a chair up close to mine and sat down: He was a big, hairy man with a heavy five-o'clock shadow, and it was sexy having him so close.

"Close your eyes," he said.

I did that, and with him so close it was almost like being naked. He said, "We take communion in memory of Him, as He told us to do. When we do it, He's present with us spiritually. Can you feel His presence?"

I felt it - it was a warmth rising inside me, up my thighs, through my pussy and stomach and tits, up my neck and into my cheeks, which felt like they were turning pink.

"Oh, I do, Reverend. It's so beautiful!"

He stroked my cheek with a meaty hand. "Yes," he said in his rumbly voice, "there's nothing in the world quite like the feeling of God's love. Open your eyes."

I opened my eyes and looked at the Reverend. There was something different about him - like he was far away but close at the same time, like his face was changed, but I couldn't tell how, only that I suddenly liked him even better than I did before.

"You're so cute, Reverend," I giggled. Somehow it was very funny, me telling him this.

"So are you, Brenda," he intoned, tracing the outline of my lips with a thick fingertip. "You're shining with God's love. So am I. Can you see me shine?"

Now that he mentioned it, there seemed to be a glow around him - a lovely pink. "Yes, Reverend," I said, and giggled again. "It's the color of your cock. I mean the head of it."

He smiled a smile that seemed to have a thousand meanings. "That's nice, Brenda," he said, stroking my thigh.

"The way you said 'That's nice,' Reverend," I said, feeling just wonderful, looking at him and enjoying his hand on my thigh. "That was so nice." I giggled again. It was so funny, me saying it was nice that he said "That's nice."

His hand was under my dress now, stroking my pussy through my panties.

"I can feel your love for our Lord - down here," he said.

It was true. My panties were soaked, and his fingers felt so good.

"Do you . . . do you have any more brownies, Reverend?"

"That was the last of the batch, Brenda. But we can celebrate our faith with another kind of brownie."

He took off his minister's robe: he was big and beefy, with thick black hair on his chest and round stomach and all around his cock, which made me think of a pink bird in a big black nest. I giggled again: it was very funny looking.

Still giggling, I said, "I'm not supposed to do this, Reverend."

"Jesus is here with us," he rumbled, lifting me up off my chair and pulling my dress over my head: it came off so easy, like a glove, it made me laugh. "Doing His will is more important than anything."

It was true: my body was on fire with Jesus, my pussy flooded with His love. How could I not obey Him?

"Any" (another giggle) "more juice" (giggle), "Reverend?"

"Of course, my child," he said. He got me to kneel on the floor with my elbows on the chair, and he produced a tube of lubricant from somewhere (like magic!), lubricated my asshole, and pressed in. It felt so cool! I'd never noticed before how much it was like taking a shit, but the other way. The thought cracked me up.

He fucked me slowly as I giggled, "Oh, Reverend, it's so sweet, your cock!" and he laughed too, a low chuckle as he thrust in and out and in and out. I lost track of the time - it seemed to be going slow and fast all at once.

I was just thinking maybe I should start counting his strokes when he paused, and I felt a kind of warm fullness in my ass. "What are you doing, Reverend?" I tittered.

"Giving you more juice, Brenda," he said.

It was exactly like getting an enema, except the thing you put in your ass for an enema isn't nearly as big as the Reverend's cock, which was the second biggest I'd ever seen (the first belonging to Jeremiah, the guy from the cable store, who wanted to marry me).

"Reverend!" I said, choking on my laughter, "that was the biggest enema I ever had!"

"Do you like enemas, Brenda?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, Reverend! They feel so fucking good!"

"I like them too. Let me know when you need to go."

"Go poo, Reverend?" I giggled. The word "poo" sounded so funny!

"Yes," he said. "Go poo."

"Pound my ass, Reverend, and I'll let you know."

He fucked me hard, and I tried to keep count of his thrusts this time, but I got distracted by his heavy breathing somewhere around eight, and what was the point, anyway? I was having a grand time, and I didn't care how long it went on.

It's hard to tell you've got to take a shit when somebody's fucking your ass. The sensation of a cock in your backdoor just interferes with those other sensations. So I had to guess when the feeling of having to shit got more intense than his cock. I sang, "I'm gonna go poo, Reverend!"

I didn't quite expect what happened next. The Reverend growled, "Oh, yeah, babe!" pulled out of me, got down behind me, and started to suck my ass noisily.

Now that he wasn't pounding me with his big cock any more, I realized I really did have to shit, but I wasn't sure I was supposed to, you know, squirt piss and shit into the Reverend's face. I mean, he was like a man of God!

But he was so cute, and his whiskers were so scratchy, and his wet tongue and eager lips felt so good on my sore asshole, and he was groaning, and my stomach was rumbling and it was getting really hard to hold it in. So finally I breathed a sigh, and relaxed my body, and it was like the world shifted into slow motion, and I felt every little thing: the delicious squirting of warm fluid, the slippery lumps that shot out in the stream, stretching my asshole as my body shot them out, the way my stomach tingled, the Reverend Edwards's groans of pleasure, the pissy smell.

I took a deep breath and felt my bowels move again, and I squirted out more piss and shit and heard the Reverend slurping and chomping and felt his warm lips in my crack and his beard tickling my lips. I pushed and squirted again, and he spluttered and gagged behind me, gasped, taking great gulps of air to keep himself under control, and finally was quiet.

I rolled onto the floor on my back and looked between my knees at the Reverend, who had sat back on his heels. His face was wet and flecked with shiny brown globs. His mouth was full, and he was chewing with his lips twisted into an ick shape. He didn't look happy.

I sat up and said, "Reverend Edwards, you look like . . . you look just like you're eating shit!" I giggled, then started to laugh uncontrollably. He smiled a little, then grinned, and started to chuckle, more and more till he had to spit his mouthful of shit onto the floor. He guffawed then, holding his stomach.

I don't know when I've ever felt as silly as I did that afternoon. I think maybe it had something to do with having sex right after taking communion: you know, like Jesus was really there, and His presence made everything sexier and funnier. I don't know how else to account for it: it's not like there was something in the brownie.

I sat up and said, "Reverend, you look so sexy with shit on your face!" I picked up the shit he'd spat out and rubbed it all around his mouth and on his nose and cheeks - the whole room stank by this time. Cackling crazily, I pushed him onto his back - he was just like a doll, letting me move him around how I wanted - and squatted above his head. In that position I could squeeze out the last of the mess in my ass: it was so great the way he made these wet choking sounds as I crapped brown liquid into him. And then, since I was squatting anyway, it occurred to me that it would be really fun to piss.

"Open up, Reverend," I giggled, leaned forward, put my hands on his tummy, and looked between my legs. He was so silly, his big face all bristly and smutty, his mouth wide open. I pissed on his face, and it was terrific, watching the stream splash right on his chin. Laughing, I moved around, getting some in his mouth, some on his eyes, some on his nose, which I thought was extra funny and laughed even harder.

The last of my pee dribbled into his mouth. "Down the hatch, Reverend!" I sang, and watched his face screw up while he forced down my piss.

"Oh, Reverend, you are so cute!" I said, and sat down on his face. I know you're not supposed to sit down in shit - you could get it in your vag and get an infection - but fuck it felt good! And I think he liked it too - he was jerking off, anyway, and he didn't seem to care he was getting shit all over his cock.

I rode him till I had a huge orgasm that went on and on, and then I decided it would be cruel to let him finish himself off with his hand, and I went down on him, letting him lick my pussy while I did it.

I can't say I've ever loved the taste of shit, but it was wicked sexy sucking his shitty cock with him eating me out down below, getting dirty on both ends till he came in my mouth and I got to swallow the mixed shit and cum, all slimy and bitter.

Me and the Reverend showered together, and before I left I made him give me five hundred dollars. Casey says men love paying for sex, and the Reverend is always cheerful when he pays me out of the big stash he keeps in his desk drawer, out of sight of his wife and the IRS.

By the time I got back to Dr. Rosenberg's house, the world seemed a little less funny. He was sitting in his big living room reading something on his iPad. "You didn't fuck that Edwards guy, did you?" he growled.

"Dr. Rosenberg," I laughed, "he's a Reverend!" And that was perfectly true. I try very hard to lie as little as I can get away with, because that's a sin.

"Well," he said, putting the iPad aside, "come here and suck my cock."

Kneeling between his legs and undoing his zipper, I cooed, "I'm your good little girl, Dr. Rosenberg."

As I sucked him I thought, well, that was sort of true. I was being as good as I knew how, anyway. His cock was hard, but it didn't pulsate with rage the way it usually did. He got off, but he didn't rough me up and defile me. Sex with Dr. Rosenberg was starting to get boring.

That night Dr. Rosenberg went out again, and I heard him come back in at one. He banged doors and cabinets, just like before, and once he shouted "Fucking stuck up bitches!" It was really exciting hearing him so pissed off, and I decided to go down and try to get him to fuck me.

I found him in his fancy media room, drinking a scotch and staring at some old movie on the TV.

"Dr. Rosenberg?" I said.

"What are you doing up?" he growled.

"I'm horny. Fuck me?"

"Go back to bed," he said, and took a sip of his drink.

4. The silent brothers

Life got more and more dreary day by day. Dr. Rosenberg didn't bother to fuck me at the office, and at home he fucked me on Tuesday and that was it - the sex was quick and vanilla.

I spent a lot of time in my little upstairs room watching TV or talking to Casey on the phone. "I'm going out of my fucking mind," I complained.

"It's totally not fair, sweetie," she said. "We've got to think of something."

"Yeah, but what?"

When Thursday came around again, my day off, Dr. Rosenberg said to me, "Are you going to be good today?"

"I promise, Dr. Rosenberg," I said, very earnestly. "I am totally yours."

"Very good, Brenda," he said complacently, and I went off to meet Casey for coffee.

"I've got this cool thing for us to do today," she said. "You know the monastery of St. John, up north of the city?"

"You mean the guys that make the wine?"

"Yeah. They're having a wine tasting today."

"I don't know, Casey," I said. "I'm sort of a beer person."

"Oh, come on!" she said. "It'll be fun!"

"Aren't they Catholics?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"Well, Reverend Edwards says they're like these really dangerous people. You know what they say about holy communion? They give you like this cracker? And say it's really Jesus? But anybody can look at it and tell it's just a cracker!"

"Brenda," she sighed, rolling her eyes, "We're not going to talk to the monks about religion; we're just going to taste their wine."

"Well, I guess it's okay," I said without much enthusiasm.

It was a good forty-five minute drive to the monastery, and Casey spent a lot of the time patiently listening to me complaining about my life with Dr. Rosenberg. "He's not fucking me," I said, "and he won't let anybody else either."

"You don't have to stay with him," she said. "You know what I think about lovers."

"He wasn't supposed to be like a lover," I said; "he was just supposed to be able to fuck me whenever he wanted."

Casey snorted. "You're being naïve, Brenda. Men always want to own you if they can."

"Whatever," I said. "And meanwhile he's going out all the time. I sit home being good, and he's getting laid every night!"

"Maybe," Casey giggled, and smirked, and then shut her mouth - which she hardly ever did - and I couldn't get another word out of her on that subject till we pulled up in front of a big stone building with a heavy wooden door. There were no other cars out front.

"Casey," I said, "if there's a wine tasting, shouldn't there be like a sign or something?"

"This one's by invitation only," she said. "C'mon!"

She got out of the car, and I trailed her to the door, where she pushed a bell. Soon the door was opened by a man in a long monk's robe, complete with one of those belts made of rope. He glanced right and left and then whispered, "Come in quickly."

As soon as he closed the door behind us, Casey squeaked "Prior Robert!" flung herself into his arms, and kissed him energetically.

He put a hand on her crotch as he returned her kiss, then looked at me curiously.

"This is my friend Brenda," said Casey. "She's come for the wine tasting."

"Hi, Mr. Robert," I said politely.

He looked confused for a moment and then said, "Ah, yes, welcome to the wine tasting, Brenda."

"Got any new varieties, Prior?" Casey cooed.

"Just the old standards, I'm afraid," said Prior Robert.

"Oh, but I do love those old standards!" she chirped.

"This way, then," he said. "The wines are in the refectory, all ready for sampling."

"Come, Brenda," said Casey. She took my hand and almost skipped as we followed Prior Robert through a hallway to a big long room with a stone floor. The ceiling was arched and there were stained glass windows along each side of the room. It was pretty, like a really old church, and it filled me with the spirit and made me wet and hot.

A lot of tables had been pushed back against the walls, leaving a big space in the middle of the floor. At the far end of the room, ten men in monks' robes stood in a neat semicircle. Oddly, there was no wine anywhere, just a few empty bottles and glasses on one of the tables.

"Oh!" Casey squealed in excitement, running towards the man on the left, who grinned at her. "Brother Emmanuel! It's been so long!" She threw her arms around him and kissed him, then turned to the next man. "Brother Xavier! I'm still sore from the last time we met!"

He smiled and nodded but said nothing.

She worked her way down the line, greeting each of the men by name: Brother Francis, Brother Paul, Brother John, and more. They all smiled and kissed her, but said not a single word.

"And this is my friend Brenda!" she sang when she'd greeted all the men. "She's a terrific gangbang slut and a whole lot of fun! C'mon, let's get naked!"

She pulled her tiny fuck-me dress over her head, and the monks all opened their robes - none of them had anything on underneath.

"Casey!" I whispered urgently.

She came to me and said, "What is it, honey?"

"I'm not allowed to fuck!"

"Have you noticed that none of these guys have said a single word? They've all taken a vow of silence. They won't say anything!"

I looked at them. They ranged in age from the twenties up into the sixties. The youngest was handsome and trim, with a dark bushy beard, and the oldest was gray-haired and heavy. They all held their stiff cocks in their hands - some big, some little, some standing straight out, and some turned upwards. I imagined all those cocks spurting thick loads into my throat and I flushed all over.

"They're fucking gorgeous," I said, and pulled my dress off.

"You start on the left, and I'll take the right," she said, and set a course for the monk on the right. "Oooh, Brother Peter," she sighed, taking his cock in her hand. "I remember this sweet pecker." She got to her knees on the stone floor and sucked his cock. I went to Brother Emmanuel on the left, said "Hi, Emmanuel," and went down on him.

Soon me and Casey each had five guys pressing in around us, wanting to be sucked, and we gave them all turns with us till they were worked up and sort of took over, the way men usually do, even monks. They threw us down on the floor and stuck like two or three cocks at a time into us till we were both shrieking for the huge stimulation. They hauled us this way and that, sometimes laying us on our backs on top of one of them who'd fuck our asses while the others penetrated from above, and sometimes having us ride one of them cowgirl while the others took us in front and behind.