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I was Tied up and Fucked up my Arse
My Early days
‘Friday the 13th’, I wrote into my diary, today Lorraine took the blame for a crime I had done and she is now to face the punishment, that would normally have been meant for me. I was caned once, over my skirt, so it was more a dull thud feeling than anything that could be considered painful, ‘Humiliation’, was the word they used, but if you were a repeat offender, well then, it was the bare ass then, that was Lorraine’s field of speciality, she was into that sort of stuff and proudly bared her backside for all of us to see her stripes.
Catholic schooling usually means strictness and cruelty, last Sunday I confessed to the priest two sins I had not committed, one being masturbation and two, saying I was dreaming of him when I touched myself.
He falls silent as I peek through the pencil enlarged hole in the dark netting meant to shield us from each other. He is a popular priest with the girls like myself, we all confess to the same sin, and watch as he touches himself and we hear his deep breathing, before giving us hail Mary’s and a good eyeful of what inspires our confessions.
Being good Catholics we are not meant to dream of boys or men, only Jesus Christ, our Lord and savour, I am sure the origins of the the word ‘Lord’, are more to do with us being subservient and coupled with some of the practices, like humiliation, loved by the some of the Lesbian Nuns in here, who carry whip like canes up their habits sleeves, to whip behind the knees if your skirt is considered too high for respectability.
We all know of one who actually walks around in her black and white habit and wears sexy lingerie under it, the full kit, bought on the internet and shags one of the boys from the approved school 2 miles from our front gate.
I should say at this point, I am here by order of the courts, a girls reformatory, there are no virgins in here we all have been poked by i****tuous family members, or broken the law with our misdemeanours, so nobody really cares to come out here to check on our welfare, it’s assumed we are all being guided by the hand of the lord and if anybody does visit, he is usually a paedophile, looking for a warm young body to enjoy, I am f******n, so I am to old to warm the bed of such men.
As you might imagine, the glowing reports of our welfare and our hospitality are of the highest order, especially since everybody turns a blind eye to the abuses, which are redefined as ‘Treats for us girls.
It was just a few weeks ago there was a visiting delegation of men, supposedly to do with farming as our institution was considering leasing the field next door to grow our own vegetables, all the girls were assembled and marched down to the shower room, stripped off and stood quietly as the men walked in on us, and were left alone enjoying the view, the oldest girl was fifteen, all those men were in their fifties, and we numbered eighty bodies, all competing for their eyes to look at us, even I stuck my anorexic chest out as far as I could, but competing with seventy nine pairs of hard pink nipples was hard, either way there were smiles all around as they walked along the rows of naked girls deciding which of us to fuck.
The constitution got a brilliant deal on the machinery, and the girls chosen, apparently enjoyed the ensuing orgy that followed in the guests accommodation block, out of sight and shielded by high hedgerows, we sighed and cursed our bad luck for not internet casino being chosen, some of us turning to each other for solace and lesbian sex, something the nuns encouraged.
Two Years Prior
I wish I could start with a big happy family scenario, but I can’t. From eight onward’s, it was all about my mother and daddy’s friends. It was as if he cared not to know, the wild parties the open sex everywhere in the house, as he sat drinking and cracking jokes, never knowing one of them was always missing, having it away with mother, who begged for more of the same, not caring I was watching, ‘She needs to learn’, was her ready comment, adding pique to the fact she was getting fucked in her own house with her cuckold husband bringing men back to dump their semen into her, a bit on the side, extra warm pussy from a woman who was once considered too beautiful for any of them, and now, here she was a full blown nymphomaniac, begging to be shagged in any manner these crude men saw fit.
Drink and d**gs and an open house of debauchery, it was so bad I could smell it, the chlorinated stench of semen, permeated my dreams, which were of similar ilk, until I awoke and felt it run down my face, in my hair and in my mouth, by my tenth, there were fingers and shortly after that, men got into bed with me, and stopped caring and started to enjoy the freedoms I gave them.
Six months ago I had a miscarriage and as a consequence, ended up here, laughably along with all the other young girls who knew the score, of how to simply please a pervert into sticking their cocks into girls who said thank you, and never contacted concerned peoples, after all, why did their God give us a pussy and the associated pleasure when using it with men grateful for our presence?
I remember the day very well, from the hearing and the custodial order given for my own protection, really?
If that were the case, why was I put in restraints, my hands cuffed behind my back and left in a room with a Security Officer, a guy from a private organisation, who found it necessary to hold me tight enough to make me realise he had a hard-on pressing himself against my bum.
The cotton jump suit and knickers I wore were more of an incitement to sexual assault, no wonder he started acting strange the minute he was warned I might be a flight risk, and this coming from the female who was meant to be my guard, her wink was an OK to have some fun with a girl who knew a thing or two about sex, and would not be getting any for a few years to come.
Truth be known, I had my mothers genes and her urges, and the minute she closed the door on us, I was wet enough to lubricate a football team, so when he slipped his hand down the front of my knickers, he found me all warm and wet, even my arse was lubricated enough, which was his preference, ‘I don’t want to be giving you a bun in your oven again’, he groaned, as my bottoms fell to my shackled ankles and I bent forward to accommodate his cock up my arse, which he fucked until the point of cumming, that was slipped from me and put into my mouth, and any evidence was swallowed, cleaning the friendly assault weapon, I have to admit was something I rather quite enjoyed doing.
Following my immediate release
He was a parishioner without blemish, came highly recommended, well we all know that sort of person does. I was being considered for day time release, I had past my sixteenth and they decided I should attend the local canlı poker oyna grammar to try attain some school grades, to further my education, and let’s be honest, as much as my institutionalisation made me more compliant, my silence for the goings on, was release two years early into the care of a man, who was to be my probation officer and legal guardian.
When I met him there was something about him I felt I could control, so I agreed to their strict demands and turned myself over to this man, I thought just wanted a little doll to play with in his bed, as it turned out, he did, but his sadistic streak, had me begging for more, some men know how to tie a knot and make it feel sexy, even today many years later, you can still see the rope burns against my wrists and ankles, pain and pleasure, orgasms and asphyxia, you have not lived until you have died.
The man was a sadist and I was about to experience his perverted wrath.
A long time before I was born he had been considering the priesthood before discovering a clandestine dalliance with a local schoolgirl had fallen pregnant. They both were encouraged to leave the town and move to the city, where she gave birth to a daughter. Two years later she gave birth a second daughter and he gave up all hope of following his God and settled down as a couple.
Nearly twenty years had passed when the truth of his daughters became known to him, they both had different fathers, they were not his and he took his vengeance, by systematically fucking them in their heads and their bodies and in the end all three fled him and hid.
He moved to his current abode and settled down, still burning with hatred for women, but masked everything with good deeds for the church, which gave him girls like me, to vent his bile and fill our bodies with his seed, as the very first night was to show me.
The first night
I had no idea as I followed him into the big house which lay on the outskirts of town, surrounded by forest and nature, he looked the sort to be at home in such a house.
My bedroom was spacious and nicely decorated, his demeanour was almost apologetic and gave me confidence that I was going to have it easy here.
I left what small possessions I had on the floor beside the bed and continued the grand tour, which finished by going down into a cellar, in the bowels of the house.
There was a stark white room with a table a chair and large brown leather couch and as I stood, my eyes stuck to a clock on the wall that read almost 5pm, he said, ‘This is where you are disciplined for breaking my laws’.
I blinked a few times in disbelief, as he turned and went back to the door, closed it and locked it, putting the key into his pocket.
‘Take off your clothes and lay down on the couch, face down’. I felt a cold shiver run down my back, his voice had changed to a seriousness that made me want to piss myself, and when he shouted out really loud, ‘Now’, I did.
I lay shivering as he approached with a length of rope, ‘Put your hands in front of you’, he asked softly, as if to reassure me it was not going to be a serious thing, and indeed as he took hold of my hand, he gently slipped the noose over it and pulled it taut onto my wrist, ‘There, see’, he murmured softly, and he bent down slightly to throw the rope under the couch and made his way to my feet to retrieve the end of the rope.
I felt his powerful hands on my ankles as he tugged me down the couch a little, to centre my body, canlı bahis then without warning, he spread my legs and wrapped the rope around my opposite thigh, just above my knee and began a series of wraps until he reached my ankle, and secured it tightly.
He did the same with another piece of the same type of rope, until I was secured hands to feet, my ankles spread a good meter, there was nothing to hide from his eyes, as he ran his hand up my inner thigh until he touched my moistening pussy, ‘You like being tied’, he answered his own question, his inserted finger feeling just the warm wetness of my yielding cunt, how could I say otherwise?
He went to the drawer and produced his weapon, a taut rope plaited as they do on the boats, but with three mean looking lengths of slim rope, each tipped with lead.
I knew instinctively what this was meant for and I heaved and squirmed, ‘Please I begged’, my arse cheeks quivering and clenching in vile acknowledgement I was going to be thrashed and cut with this thing of torture.
I was crying and sobbing even before he raised it high, ‘You little cunt, you fucking little cunt’, he hissed, and when it landed on the soft smooth skin of my arse, I screamed. I felt the trickle of blood run down from the dead feeling in the area it had landed, as I tore helplessly at my bindings, this seemed to drive him crazy, as the second one landed more intimately, cutting my labia and stinging my clitoris, my open thighs gave no protection to my vulnerable pussy and the sight of my bleeding, drove him on.
The stinging subdued after a short time, and I found myself in a high state of sexual excitement, he either knew it from experience, sensed it, or smelled it, either way he undressed until he stood naked from the waist down.
I gasped, I never knew men could be that large, and as he approached my naked torn body, it bobbed up and down as if it had a life of its own.
He sat on the edge of the couch and stroked my battered and bruised body, his fingers touching me wherever he wanted, like a farmer at a market inspecting a b**st for sale, I was his to do as he pleased, and somehow this added to my warped sense of pleasure.
‘I’m going to fuck you up the arse’, he said matter of factually, and as I feared being torn asunder by his massive cock he reassured me I would be able to take it, his youngest daughter could take it, and she was just half my age when he buggered her.
I waited as he fingered my wetness, drawing it up onto my puckered pink orifice, occasionally pushing a finger in deep to oil the small opening thoroughly with my own vaginal secretions, after which he mounted me, lying fully atop of my prostrated body, feeling down between my arse cheeks and started to penetrate, until I felt uncomfortable, as if I needed to use the toilet, only the grunting noises he mad as he humped my arse and buggered away without conviction, strange to say, when he stopped to gather his breathing, I found myself actually moving to keep the bloody thing going, he was pressing into my ‘G-spot’, through the thin membrane that separates both my holes.
I suspected I would be huge when he finished using my arse, but when he untied my bindings, I got up, albeit weak kneed, I studied my rear in the mirror, yes there was blood and welts which were raised, black and red and tinged with blue, but there was a warmth I felt, I had been subjected to a severe cruelty, and orgasmed anally, this was a profound moment for me as a girl and for the next two years under his supervision, I was his disciple, sometimes, just as in the start of my story, I would confess to sins I did not commit, to be bound tightly and lashed until I bled and then fucked up my arse.
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Telefon Numaram: 00353 515 73 20