The Taming of the Shithead

We whooped and screamed while they panted and sweated, yelling, "Yeah, fuck me!" and "Gimme that big cock, Brother!" and things like that, or we'd call out to each other, like "Suck that big one, Casey!" or "Brother John wants a turn in your ass, Brenda!" But all this time the monks didn't make a single sound, besides the occasional grunt or groan. They were like other men that gangbang you, if you know what I mean: they slapped us, shoved us, pulled our hair, and passed us around, but they did it all in total silence.

It must have gone on for almost an hour, till my ass was raw, my nips were swollen, and, my tits and ass were red from slapping. Finally our two groups merged into one group of ten, and they laid me on the floor and put Casey on top of me, and they took turns coming in her ass. As each one thrust in, Casey counted them off: "One! Two!" And after each one came, he put himself in my mouth, and I sucked the slime off his shrinking cock. Then he stepped back a few feet, stood with his brothers in a neat line, and silently watched as the others came.

When Casey had called out "Ten!" she squatted above me, with her cute asshole gaping just above my mouth and her cheeks red from spanking, and she let the cum run into me: first just a trickle, and then her asshole widened and swelled, and she crapped it out all at once. Ten loads of cum glurped out of her, thick and white, till it filled my mouth full.

Casey got up, turned around, and stood over my head, smiling at me brightly. The monks stepped forward and stared solemnly as I opened my mouth as wide as I could to show them how full of cum I was. Then I closed my mouth and swallowed it all at once. It takes a lot of effort to swallow that much of anything so thick, and it's easiest if you do it in one big gulp.

I sputtered a little and almost choked, but I got it down. I sat up, looked at the brothers, and said "You've got nice wine here."

"They've got lots of delicious wines here, sweetie!" Casey giggled, ran to the table where the wine bottles were, and picked up one of them. She brought it to me with a wine glass, reading the label: "St. John's Pinot Noir"-ooh, yummy!

She showed me the bottle. "It's empty, Casey," I said.

"Brother Peter's the winemaker," she said, and carried the bottle over to him. Smiling brightly, he held the bottle low in front of him, took careful aim, and pissed into it, then passed it to the next brother, who also pissed. They passed the bottle around till five of them had pissed and it was full.

She brought the bottle back to me, poured a little into the wine glass, raised it to her nose, and sniffed.

"Very fresh," she said, then sipped. She wrinkled her nose. "Not my favorite vintage," she said, "but I think you'll like it."

She filled the glass about halfway and handed it to me. The piss was amber, and there was a little foam on top. I sniffed: it smelled like piss. I took a sip: it was warm, acrid, and wicked. One of the monks took his cock in his hand as he watched, and I felt his stare in my pussy. I got up on my knees, legs spread a little, and chugged the glass of piss: another one of the monks, an older man, was touching himself, and the first one was hard again.

Casey took my glass and refilled it.

"Casey!" I whispered. "I can't drink the whole thing!"

"Look at them!" she whispered back. "They're loving it!"

It was true. Half of them were jerking off, getting hard again: they were all staring at me glassy-eyed. I touched one of my nipples: it was hard and prominent.

I drained the second glass, rubbing my pussy as I drank. "Ah!" I said "That is so fucking fine!"

Casey filled the glass a third time, and I drank it down, letting a little run out of my mouth and down my chin. All but a couple of the brothers were jerking off now, and most of them were getting hard again.

She filled the glass a fourth time, and I sipped it. It was starting to feel heavy in my stomach, but I drank it all in one go. She held the bottle up to show me there wasn't much left. "One more, sweetie," she said, and poured.

It was only half as much as she'd poured before, but it looked huge. "I don't think I can do it," I whispered.

Casey held the glass under her and pissed into it. I watched, hypnotized, while the yellow piss jetted out of her pretty slit and into the glass till it was overflowing and making a puddle on the floor. It looked so fantastically good - I rubbed myself harder.

She held the glass up and said, "There! That's better," and handed it to me. I snatched it out of her hand and drank greedily, and meanwhile one of the brothers that hadn't peed into the bottle came over and aimed himself into my face. I wondered if he could do it with such a hard cock. It was dark and engorged, with a purplish head and thick veins. I so wanted to feel that hot gush in my mouth.

I finished my glass of piss, wetted my finger in my mouth, and reached between his legs. I slid my finger into his crack and worked it into his asshole, looking up at him. His face was lean and lined, with shining blue eyes: he looked like he was hardly there at all except for his cock and his lust.

"Uh," he said. I opened my mouth and waited, wiggling my finger in his ass.

"Oooh!" Casey cooed, sounding like she'd never seen anything so exciting before.

"Ah," said the brother, and started to piss, a great hard stream that gurgled in my mouth and filled me in seconds. I gulped it down, piss splashing all over my face when I closed my mouth to swallow. Soon the others who hadn't pissed yet joined him, and they were all pissing into my mouth and on my face, way more than I could swallow. I rubbed it on my tits, and it ran over my belly and wetted my pussy, where I was still masturbating with one hand.

By the time they were done pissing, the brothers were all revved up again, and they fucked me and Casey, taking us every way they could. They didn't all manage to come a second time, but six or seven of them did, mostly on Casey's tummy and tits, and I got to lick it off. The last two of them came in Casey's mouth, and she kissed me and dribbled the cum into me.

The brothers gathered up their robes and filed out of the room silently, not looking backwards.

"You're such a fucking skank, Brenda!" Casey giggled.

"Do we go home now?" I asked.

"Not quite," said Prior Robert, who'd been out of the room during the gangbang. "Casey and I have a private appointment," he said. "And while we're meeting, the abbot would like a word with you."

"The abbot?" I repeated, puzzled.

"He's sort of the boss of the place," said Casey.

"Do you think I could like clean up first?" Actually, I was starting to feel like I really needed to pee. A wine bottle full of piss is a lot of liquid.

"The abbot won't mind," said Mr. Robert.

He led us down an impressive stone hallway to a big wooden door, which he knocked on. A muffled voice said, "Come in," and Mr. Robert opened the door and led us into a big office, where an impressive-looking monk with white hair and a bushy white beard sat behind a big desk.

"This is Abbott William," said Mr. Robert, "and this is the girl I told you about."

The abbot said, "You two go and have your meeting, and Brenda and I will talk."

He gestured me into a wooden chair where I sat nervously, dripping on the floor and very aware of my nakedness, while Brenda and Mr. Robert left. I wondered if the abbot was going to try and convert me.

He smiled reassuringly and said, "Welcome to the Monastery of St. John, Brenda. I hope you've enjoyed your visit with us."

"Very much," I said, squirming in the chair. Between me being all wet and needing to pee, I was really uncomfortable. Behind the abbot, on the wall, was a cross with Jesus literally on it, naked except for a loincloth and bleeding from his hands, feet and side. He looked sad and sexy. I imagined Jesus here with me, letting me kiss his bloody feet, and my pussy got hotter and there was this stab of pain, like my bladder was going to explode.

"Um, Mr. Abbot?" I said.

"Call me Father William," he said, smiling gently.

"Father sWilliam?"

"Yes, my child."

"I really need to pee. Could you like tell me where the ladies' is?"

He smiled wider. "This is an all-male establishment, Brenda. We only have men's rooms."

"Okay, Father William," I said, holding my legs tight together.

I gritted my teeth as he went on. "The brothers have dedicated their souls and bodies to God, but one doesn't stop being a man just because one has given oneself to God. We find it makes the life of hardship and poverty they've chosen for themselves much more supportable if they're able to get their rocks off now and then."

"I understand," I said. "Um, Father William?"

"Yes?"

"I don't think I can hold it much longer. Could I like use the men's room, maybe?" Jesus was on the cross a long time. I wondered if he peed himself. If I could have stood under him . . .

Father William's smile seemed a little like a grin. "We can't allow that, I'm afraid. It wouldn't be proper." He glanced at a big silver cup on his desk, hesitated a second, and then pushed it towards me.

"Here, use this," he said.

Well, it was his party. I scooted to the very edge of my chair, reached for the cup, held it under me, and pissed into it. I peed till it was half full, and then decided I was comfortable enough that I didn't have to go any more right now.

"Just set it back on the desk," said Father William.

I set the cup down and sat on my chair. Father William drew the cup towards him, peered inside, and wrinkled his nose. He didn't say anything, but went on staring at the cup. The silence was getting awkward.

At last I said, "Can you tell me about the cracker, Father William?"

"The cracker?" He looked at me, puzzled.

"I mean, there's this cracker, right? And some wine? And you guys say they're actually Jesus, and like how do you expect anybody to believe that?"

He smiled. "Do you believe in miracles, Brenda?"

"Of course I do!" I said.

"That miracles are possible because God can do anything He wants?" He pulled the cup closer to him and sniffed it.

"Yes."

"Then God can be present anywhere He pleases," he said, dipping a finger into the cup and putting it in his mouth. "In His own flesh, in a cup of wine, in a little piece of bread."

"I guess," I said.

He made the sign of the cross over the cup, lifted it to his lips, and sipped. He coughed, pursed his lips, set the cup down, and stared at it for a few seconds. "In fact," he continued as if talking to the cup, "He can be present in anything you eat or drink, if you have faith and you believe completely in His power."

"But Father," I began, and then stopped as he suddenly picked the cup up and drained it in a few seconds.

He made a noise that sounded like a cross between a cough and a fart, drew the back of his hand across his mouth, and rose grandly from his chair. He pulled his robe off and dropped it on the floor, where it made a big brown puddle. Naked, he picked up the silver cup and brought it to me. "And if you believe," he continued, "Christ will be present in those things, and you will be blessed."

I stared at his cock: it seemed to be surrounded by a lovely light - a kind of halo.

"Oh, Father William," I sighed, "that's such a beautiful thought."

"Only believe," he said, pissing in the cup, "and you will receive God's blessing. Kneel, my child."

I knelt as he pissed into the cup till it was full. He held it out to me, and I reached for it, but he said, "No, no! Don't touch - drink the blood of Christ."

I let him hold the cup to my lips, and I swallowed mouthful after mouthful of his strong yellow piss till it was gone. Then he set the cup down on his desk.

I was incredibly turned on, but troubled too. "Oh, Reverend," I sighed, "I'm not a Catholic."

He grabbed a handful of my hair and forced my head back. He said, "You don't have to be a Catholic to believe in the omnipotence of God - that He can be anywhere, everywhere - that wine, or piss, or anything at all, can be His blood if He wills it."

"Oh, yes, Father!" I felt like his piss was alive inside me, warming me and filling me with the Spirit.

He turned back to his desk, picked up a little silver plate that I hadn't noticed before, and set it on the floor. Squatting over it, he said, "And anything can be His body. Bread, a cut of lamb, anything."

"Yes, Father William," I cried, watching as he strained and shitted one long, golden tan turd onto the plate, which he picked up and brought to me. I knew better than to reach for it this time, but watched as he intoned "Receive the body of Christ!" and broke off a piece of the turd about an inch long. I opened my mouth, and he neatly placed it on my tongue.

I closed my mouth and chewed. The body of our Lord was bitter and mushy, but at that moment I wouldn't have traded it for ice cream or cake. He fed me from the plate, and his eyes gleamed and his cock got hard as he watched me slowly chew his shit and swallow it.

When it was all gone, he made the sign of the cross over my face, said "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit," and pulled me to him, ramming that hard cock into my mouth. Holding my head in both hands, he fucked my throat while my stomach churned and I rubbed myself, and I was so filled with the love of God that I came just as he was spurting into me. I held his cum on my tongue as he stood back and watched, smiling. It tasted holy somehow, and I felt blessed when I swallowed it.

There was a bathroom I could use after all - Father William had just been kidding about that - and he let me clean up there. A little while later, Prior Robert was ushering me and Casey along the hall towards the front door.

"We'll be having another wine tasting next month, girls," he said.

"I'm so going to be here," said Casey, but I didn't say anything.

"We'll be in touch about the exact date and time," he said, opening the door.

A figure was crossing the driveway towards us. He stopped, half in the shadows.

I stared. "Oh my God! Jeremiah?"

"Um, hi Brenda!" he said.

I ran to him and gave him a hug and a kiss. "What are you doing here, Jeremiah?"

"Um, I've, uh, got an uncle that lives here. I'm, like, just visiting him."

"That's awesome, Jeremiah. Call me up soon? I've missed you!"

"Um, sure," he said, glancing nervously towards Prior Robert, who was waiting patiently in the doorway.

We got into my car, and I pulled out onto the street.

Casey said, "Visiting his uncle!" and giggled.

"What do you mean?"

"It's so fucking rich! It like totally cracks me up!"

"I don't get it, Casey."

"Didn't you know like half the monks are gay?"

"No, I didn't. But so what?"

"Jeremiah's a whore, sweetie! Everybody in the life knows about him! He's going to get gangbanged there, just like we were."

5. Jeremiah's leap

"Come spend the night with me," I said.

"Can't, sweetie," said Casey. "I've got to meet with the school board tomorrow morning."

"You have a kid in school?"

"Don't be silly, honey - it's a date, of course!"

I went to my place, showered, went to bed, and slept soundly till I was woken up by somebody pounding on the door. I looked at my alarm clock: it was not quite four-thirty. I stumbled out of bed, pulled on my robe, and went out to the living room.

"Who is it?" I called through the door.

"It's Jeremiah. Open up, babe."

I opened the door. He was as clean cut and neatly pressed as ever, even though he was looking tired, with dark circles under his eyes.

"I'm sorry about the time," he said. "I just like had to see you."

"Come in, Jeremiah! You look like you've had a workout."

He sloped into the room. "I'm okay," he said, looking at me sternly. "I got to talk to you about reforming your lifestyle. I know what you were doing at the monastery tonight - it's not Christian, and it's not good for you."

"Fine one you are to talk, Jeremiah," I said. "Visiting your uncle! You were there getting gangbanged, just like Casey and I."

He sank wearily onto my sofa. "I do have an uncle there," he said. "The abbot."

"Father William? He's super kinky!"

"Yeah, Uncle Will."

"But you did get gangbanged, Jeremiah. I know you did."

"It's hard to make ends meet, working retail, you know."

"You told me you were going places in cable. You were a man with a future."

"I totally am, babe. I'm gonna be an entrepreneur. But it takes time to get something like that going. Meanwhile, gay men tend to think I'm kind of cute."

"You're not gay yourself?"

"Absolutely not!" he said indignantly. "Homosexuality is sinful. Though I've got to admit it's nice to suck a a few cocks and get my ass drilled every now and then. They were doing it two at a time, though. Fuck, I'm sore!"

"Poor baby," I said. "I know just how it feels." Him and his boss had introduced me to double anal penetration just the week before.

"They fucked me like half the night, and I never had an orgasm," he said, unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock. "C'm'ere and gimme a suck."

"I can't, Jeremiah. I promised Dr. Rosenberg I wouldn't fuck around." He was jerking off, making himself hard. His cock was a wonder, long as my forearm. I couldn't help staring.

"C'mon babe, it's bad enough you're living with a Jew . . ."

"I'm gonna convert him, Jeremiah, you'll see."

". . . but making promises, being like faithful? You can only be faithful to a Christian."

"That doesn't make any sense, Jeremiah."

"Anyway, what were you doing fucking my uncle, if you're being faithful to the Jew?"

"Casey told me we were going to a wine tasting, Jeremiah. I was blindsided."

"Babe, I've really got to fuck you!"

He looked in a sad state. He had this expression on his face like he was really in pain, and his cock was so big it looked swollen. And he was so nice, and he did love Jesus, just like me, so we had a special bond there.

Staring at the head of his cock, pre-cum dribbling out of the slit, I said, "You'd have to like force me, Jeremiah."

He frowned and said, "I'm not a rapist, Brenda."

"But if you were desperate enough, you might not be able to stop yourself. You'd like drag me into my bedroom, you know, by the hair? You'd rip my robe off and tie me up, you know, on my back with my head hanging off the edge? You'd just like ignore my struggling and yelling. You'd fuck my face, really deep, so I gagged . . ."

"Oh, God," Jeremiah groaned.

". . . and threw up." I massaged a breast through my robe and squirmed in my seat. "You'd fuck my ass then - it's still stretched from the monks, and oh, so sore! I'd scream and scream, because your cock is so huge and wicked! Then you'd fuck my face again . . ."

"Ass to mouth," he murmured, jerking himself off.

"Yeah," I said, "but you wouldn't care what was on your cock, you know? That wouldn't be your problem. And you'd just abuse my body as long as you wanted, and there's not a fucking thing I could do about it."

"You got some rope?"

I thought about that. I couldn't think of any - this seemed like a flaw in my plan. "I don't think so, Jeremiah."

He sagged a little on the sofa.

"Oh wait!" I said. I jumped up, went to my bedroom closet, rummaged a little, and came back with a ball of red yarn. "I was going to learn to knit, but I never got around to it."

I dropped the yarn in his lap, went back to my chair, and sat down.

"You should learn to knit, Brenda," he said. "It's a useful skill for a Christian wife."

"Maybe someday. But you wouldn't force me, would you, Jeremiah? 'Cause you're a good man, and not a rapist." I slouched back in my chair, opened my robe and cupped my left tit with my hand. "So I guess neither of us is going to get fucked tonight." I put my feet up on the chair, opened my legs wide, and shoved two fingers of my right hand into my ass. "It's so fucking sad."