The Padres & the Tongva Priestess

THE PADRES & THE TONGVA PRIESTESS

by ContinentalPsyOp

She is brown and beautiful in the afternoon sun. Wild, fierce.

Her breasts bounce and twist as she runs and jumps and tumbles, looking for a way to get away. She is nude, barefoot, dark hair rich between her thighs, a dark trail leading down from her navel, and a fierce dark mane atop her head as well.

She is a Priestess of her people, the adult daughter of a long line of Priestesses.

For the past three days, the Padres and the Soldiers at the Mission have been fucking her brains out. She has barely had any time to sleep, and when she makes her water she is always being watched, her watcher stroking his stranger penis, for as soon as she has made her pee, she is to be enjoyed some more.

She is Toypurina of the Tongva. It is the winter of 1786 and she has already been convicted of rebellion, for trying to massacre the Mission that previous October. Word of the Verdict is on its way to Mexico City, and word of her Sentence shall return.

And this weekend, the Christian charity of her captors finally ran out.

But, finally, the chance to run presents itself, and soon she is out of the dark Mission building where she has been the main entertainment, then she is across a courtyard and then she is over a fence, under another, but then--

"Hey!"

"There she goes!"

The sound of their horses, the loud neighs they make. The sound of their foreign Spanish, which she could not help to learn these past years as the Mission grew.

She feels the prepared dirt under her feet. She tries to get her bearings, her eyes still adjusting to the afternoon sun after so long in doors, in darkness, in the acts of lusting love. She shades her eyes.

She has jumped the fence into the horse ring the Soldiers made. And as the horse noises get louder, terrifying her with their foreignness, she sees two of the Soldiers on horseback, jumping into the horse ring and approaching her. Her body is naked, barefoot, brown.

The midday sun has caught her bright and she sees the men's leering smiles, taking their time, looking her up and down.

Coarse rope lassos twisting.

Toypurina flees one way, hears the men call out something, something funny from their tone, something about her naked body, something about how she looks even better in the light and maybe they should start fucking her outside to enjoy it more.

But then a big horse is in her way, she flees the other way, soft dirt under her feet, slowing her down, her hair whipping behind her, her nipples hard in the air, and then the lasso loops around her, squeezing her arms to her body.

"Ooooofffff!" she cries, feeling the lasso cinch around her and cinch her tight, causing her to stumble in the soft dirt.

She would have fallen, if the other Soldier's lasso had not wound round her from the other direction, burning against her skin as it tightened and pulled her, and soon the naked women felt herself pulled sharply in two different, opposite directions at once.

"Don't split her in two that way!" one calls out to the other, dismounting his horse while his buddy did the same.

"Yeah, that's what my pinja is for!"

"We gotta keep her alive until we hear from Mexico City!"

"Alive is fine! Let yours go, let's tenderize her some more."

"Right here? Some of the other Gabrielinos might see! She's their Medicine Woman."

"She? What is she, twenty?"

"They made her young, it's her family business. They let the women call the game here."

"I'll call her game," the other one said, taking out his pinja from his breeches as her lowered Toypurina to the dirt. She was good and well-tied, and like a captured animal, knew when to be docile and patient and wait.

She felt the soldier's hardness enter her, recognizing him now by feel, as she could all the men who had been keeping her busy in that Mission, their great hut of wood and stone where they slept and feasted and prayed to their one God in three parts.

She had been told all her life that her beauty and her grace would inspire the hardness of men, would inspire the stiffness of their penises. When she and her sisters were of age, she had gone with her cousins and the women of other tribes to the river, to bathe, where the young men of other tribes knew to come, to bring gifts and to bathe with the excited, willing young women.

She thought of those young men of Tongva and Chumash blood, her blood, and their sweet, small penises entering her on warm Spring nights by the river. She felt her body being pushed deeper into the horse-ring dirt, felt herself being fucked into the very ground, dirt warm and soft like a marital bed and these pale-skinned stranger-men fucked their hard thick cocks into her and called her their whore and Toypurina was far away in her mind, by the river, the sweet river, being loved in the moonlight.

2. Toypurina

She had heard the stories her entire life. Especially, on the steep slopes of her village, in the one edge clearing that looks straight down the valley, and was the perfect place to sit around a fire and hear the stories from the Grandfathers and the Grandmothers.

How long, long ago, in the time of the grandfather of this grandfather's grandfather, whomever was telling the story, of how the Great Gods sailed along the coast. Some said they sailed from the island where the Chumash said the world had come from, but none of the Tongva had seen that and no Tongva would take the word of a Chumash alone on matters of such importance.

But the Tongva along the Coast from Top'anga to Lopuukna had seen them, and called to their cousins in Tuhunga and Kuukamamonga who came to the coast to see the Gods for themselves and there they were.

In the largest canoe anyone had ever seen, held up by the wings of giant birds, so that the Gods could fly across the waves and inspect their creation at the shore.

All were too respectful to dare take to sea with the Gods flying across the waves.

But they could see the faces of the Gods aboard their craft: hairy, angry and looking for any Tongva not doing what they should!

She heard these stories all of her life, and now Toypurina, twenty-five summers behind her and medicine woman to her village of Japchivit high in the mountains the Gods now called San Gabriel, like they named the wide, rolling hills and plains where she and her sisters picked acorns all autumn long, now Toypurina was in the prison of those same Gods.

Those Gods who were now no longer mere fireside fables to thrill and to scare generation after generation of Tongva and Chumash.

Those Gods, Toypurina knew, were quite real.

Plus, she didn't think they were Gods at all anymore. She was quite sure that these were simply men.

3. Prisoner

When first she was taken prisoner, after the rebellion failed, she was given her own private cell and a woman was hired from the Pueblo of Los Angeles nearby to be her jailer and her lady's maid.

The first difficulty they had was when Toypurina pulled down the simple shift she was issued, revealing her breasts, almost instantly. That was how she was used to dressing, a grass skirt and her chest bare, nearly every day of the year in these California lands.

Toypurina was wise and crafty. Her jailer knew she could understand Spanish, but just to spite her, her jailed learned a primitive Tongva--the only language Toypurina would speak, as a way to communicate the basic essentials to her.

But the jailer woman's harangues about how a woman must be modest and cover her body, how these were essential commandments from God Himself, the woman could only offer in Spanish, which she did, knowing that her charge was probably hearing and understanding every word.

Toypurina rolled her eyes at the woman, but since she depended upon the woman for her daily care, she did so only when her back was turned.

Eventually, Toypurina's dignity and grace, the natural way she confronted her body's excretions and menstruations, inspired her jailer, who saw that Toypurina, while heathen and refusing the Eucharist and its Salvation, was no less clean and no less mindful of herself than she was. In fact, perhaps more so, since no one had ever taught Toypurina anything about her body being evil.

Toypurina realized from the way the clothes fit, she was being forced to wear her jailer's old garments. The jailer was larger in every way than Toypurina, but with the body of a woman whose life was still hand-to-mouth and empty of luxuries.

Toypurina was allowed the ceramics she needed to make acorn mash for herself, and her jailer never felt bad for her charge, since this was what she would be eating anyway had she been free as a bird.

But, Toypurina remained a dangerous rebel, and had to be confined pending judgment from Mexico City.

4. Japchivit

Years ago when the Gods from the South first came, the women of Toypurina's town of Japchivit, and of the neighboring Tongva towns, came down to the river where the Gods were bathing themselves, and saw that despite their skin, they had the same bodies of the Tongva men whom the Tongva women knew well. The women promoted peace through the regular draining of Tongva testicles and the regular satisfaction of Tongva penises. And so these new testicles and penises of these new men from the South were most welcomed by the Tongva women by the river.

And so the Gods named the river as the River of the Queen of the Angels, in honor of the Tongva elder woman who brought all her younger Tongva women down to the river to meet these Gods in the shape of men.

As many of these men were religious pioneers, they could not truthfully record the dozens of pairs of breasts; the willing, wiggling hips wading in the water; they could not tell the truth about the hairy, manic cunts that fucked down atop the men as they reclined along the riverside.

But it had truly been a miracle. The summer of '69 had been a hot one, and the trip north across the Sonoran desert and then the Mojave desert had been an exceptionally dry one. When those Padres found that small yet fine river, they prayed and gave thanks.

But then those wonderful, wild brown native women came out of the hills above the river's bend. In grass skirts with brown breasts and dark-nipples proudly bared, they came down to the river. Friendly, unafraid, unashamed, filling the air with the holy, high-pitched sounds of women's voices, women playing in the water, women speaking the language of the people in this fertile land of oaks, acorns and deer, it was to those men of Holy Orders, as if the Angels had been sent down to bathe with them.

And with them, was their matron, who set the standard as the first one to disrobe and enter the water with the Padres, the first one to touch the Padres and to begin a kiss Holy, and then most Holy indeed.

Twas a Holy day indeed when the brown-skinned Queen of the Angels began sucking Padre cock in the middle of the River they would called the Rio de Nuestra Señora, Reina de Los Angeles.

Soon all of the younger women were riding the cocks of the Spanish priests in a positively Roman debauch.

They fucked with pure confidence and naturalness. Unhesitating to touch these Godly men and to open themselves up to the most cunning intimacies. These women were welcome and adventurous cocksuckers, light Spanish cocks disappearing between the dark lips and dark faces of these beautiful women, God's first people.

A devilish, sinful seduction? Impossible, when these women were clearly angels, so sweet, so ready, so knowing.

Hence they named this modest river for both the modest shrine it reminded them of, holiest in their Order, and for the fine Angels who ended a thirst drier and more parched than any thirst for water had been.

The orgy did not stop until the matron had made sure that each of the women in her charge had been fucked and filled by at least two men each. More was encouraged, as the women used this site from time immemorial to meet and to love men from foreign tribes, a blessed way to ensure genetic health and diversity in their small populations, and which these people did naturally, without any scientific knowledge whatsoever.

Natural selection at work, in the wild.

Toypurina was not born from one of these unions, she had already been born a few years earlier, but her older cousins had taken part in the lovemaking on those days with the pale strange men from far away. She knew several children who had come "from The Great Spirit," being born to women who did not have regular male lovers and partners, and she had thought nothing ill of it.

As Toypruina came of age, she had even come into the strangers' rituals at their big Mission. She had already loved with men from her town whom she fancied, she had heard there were some fine, handsome men who rode the horses in the camp.

It was true, they were fine and they were fetching, and they did take to Toypurina's come hither looks of shameless, confident innocence, and in their stables, near their horses, they unsheathed their cocks and they entered Toyprurina's wet, waiting cunt of eighteen summers, so wet and in season that she knew that the Great Spirit would want her to take the long, stiff cocks of theirs, to please them and soothe them with her irresistible beauty and womanness. And she knew it was good for a woman to grow her oak from the man's acorn seed, and the stranger the man was to her, the more beautiful her child was sure to be, such was the wisdom passed down from woman to woman, mother to daughter, in her family from time immemorial.

But Toypurina did not grow heavy with child, no matter how much love she made, no matter how many late nights in the grove by the river she spent, watching falling stars while young warriors reached the highest heights inside of her.

Without the small ones to look after, she looked after her people, and plotted and planned the uprising in the October of '85. But then she was betrayed, and then she was caught.

And she was tried. And convicted.

And finally, what she had been waiting for, happened.

5. Feast

She was taken from her cell where she had been kept, to the quarters of the Padres in the Mission. She was given food and ate cautiously. She relented in her obstinacy, and allowed herself to participate in their ceremony. She was given their ritual rite, her sins were purified. She ate the bread she was given and said the words she was told to say, for she was smart and had learned their language along with hers, though the words they had her speak were in another language altogether.

She drank deep of the drink she was given to drink, and flush and joy and laughter followed.

The Padres became more attentive. Kissing her and passing her on to the next one. Who kissed her and passed her on to the next. And then to the next. And then kissing her and groping her and passing her on to the next.

She thought to protest at first, but the wine and the deprivation made it feel so good to have hands on her breasts again. The calloused, rough hands of men, handling her sweetly but clumsily, getting under her modest clothes and feeling her modest breasts and squeezing, squeezing hard like she liked, and tweaking her nipples like she loved to feel a man doing to her.

Soon, eight hands were on her at once. Four mouths were tasting hers in turn, and then stripping her naked so their hands and mouths could explore her even further.

She was willing but still they held her thin thighs wide apart, to open up her center for their inspection. Talking amongst themselves about her body, comparing her brown lips and pink interior to the whores they all knew in Mexico City, to the women some of them knew back in Spain.

They pronounced her as indistinguishable from the finest Spanish whore in Barcelona.

And to the annoyance of three, one insists on tasting her pinkness before they defile her further. His lips and tongue on her brown twat is met with great surprise and joy from Toypurina. Among her people, this kiss is practiced most among women for each other, but this strange Padre is not half bad! She moans and yields into him, opening up further and feeling the men holding her legs but pushing herself into the face of this licking, sucking man, riding his face to the first of her many orgasms that weekend.

The men talk about how wanton she is, since she can experience her little death like this, using the current term so en vogue in '86 for the orgasm. It stiffens their cocks further, thinking she is a slut who can be fucked as hard and fast as they can give it to her. That she is open and blessed for their pleasure. She has rejected their Faith, she does not have the rights as a proper, moral, Christian woman. She has no right to say no.

But what burns them even more, is that she has no desire to say no. She has no shame to be touched, to touch, to love. They put their hard cocks in her hands and she strokes them, without shame and without hesitation.

They have run out of patience for their cunning linguist colleague. Their cocks will wait no more, there is no more need to think of her and her pleasure. It is time for each man for himself. For each man to put his pleasure first. She is a heathen. God made her for their pleasure. She cannot be saved, so she can absorb and carry their sin. The way her skin and her cunt and her belly can absorb their seed.

Spilling it on the native woman, inside her native body, was not wasting it, for fallen heathen beauties such as Toypurina were intended for the seed of Holy, Godly men. Such was their certain Faith, such was everything they had ever been taught in their lives.

To Toypurina, the cocks in her hands were a precursor to what she knew she was about to feel. But when she did, she was surprised at how big and thick it was, stretching her wet, sopping cunt open. She was not surprised by how insistent it was, for the sounds this man was making, she knew he was utterly charmed by her and her center, utterly entranced and needed to rut her hard and fast like a fierce animal in Spring.

But her native twat took his Spanish cock and stretched around him, stretching fast to ease her pain and discomfort from his size and the battering way he used that size on the petite Tongva medicine woman.

The other men were laughing at how her body was responding to the quick pounding it was receiving, but then the Padre who had licked at her between her thighs so sweetly, stuffed his cock into her mouth and throat as fast and insistently as his colleague was fucking her cunt.

Holding on to the cocks in her hands, Toypurina closed her eyes and took the first spit-roast of her life, her eyes tearing up as the cock in her mouth opened her throat for himself, feeling herself become a repository and respite for these men's cocks, feeling herself only in the ways that she was interacting with penises, four at once. The first spit-roast of her life, and only the first spit-roast of that wild weekend.

The Padres that first day, left no combination unattempted, from that first season with her, that first train she pulled of her captivity. They quickly found some butter from the kitchen, and made it easier for them to spare her cunt for a turn, and instead to spear themselves into her tight, native asshole, fucking the captive young medicine woman in a way she clearly was not accustomed to.

But which by the second day, when the Soldiers were given her so as to have their turns with her, Toypurina was most accustomed to the sodomy of the anal penetration she received, often while her mouth or her cunt was simultaneously occupied by some thrusting, horny Spaniard. Such that by the third day, she was even eager for it, since they often used that butter to make them slide into her more easily, and when they wanted her cunt, used only spit, if anything.