After the brutal gangbang that poor Jane had suffered at the hands of Charles and his friends, she was at a loss as to what to do next. She still very much wanted her marriage and relationship with her husband Peter to continue; but how could she hold down a marriage when she was constantly being fucked by very large, very powerful and uncompromising black men? And as a true slut, she loved every minute of it And now the sad fact was she needed black dick to satisfy her insatiable appetite for rough black sex. She knew that her husband could no longer satisfy her and it was the dominating masterful behaviour of black men that she desired more then anything. Possibly even more then her marriage, well that was the issue.
And on top of all that, there was her successful audition. Following her virtuoso performance as a slut when she was the main star of a vicious gangbang, she was now due to appear in a film, produced and directed by Randy and Jake, two of the men who had fucked her that day, where she would be acting the part of a frustrated housewife who becomes a stripper and is forced to perform for a bunch of thuggish black men. It did not take a genius to work out what would follow, both on and off film. And she was in no position to resist, given that she had become such a black cock loving whore.
It was this very dilemma that Jane wrestled with on the immediate Sunday following her gangbang. She and her husband were at church, Jane preying for forgiveness and guidance -- black cock or her husband? - and Peter was just preying for guidance -- he after all had witnessed two of her fuckings and had been on the phone to her whilst she was being double fucked. Both times Jane did not have a clue that her husband knew what a slut she was nor did she know that Peter had cum each time, thoroughly turned on by seeing and hearing his wife get a rough fucking.
As the priest babbled on about some sort of religious nonsense, an idea struck both Jane and Peter at almost exactly the same time. Maybe the answer to all their problems was starring them right in the face? Or starring them from the pew box, to be precise. There stood the priest, a nice looking old white man who both Peter and Jane knew well ever since they moved to New York. They were regular church goers and had made a real effort to get to know their priest. He was a kind wise man and maybe Father Jones was the answer. They would try and seek guidance from him and, since they were both Catholics, they could confess their sins to him, ask to be absolved and ask for guidance. As a man of God, surely a priest of all people could guide them through this moral maze?
As they were leaving, both checked to see what time confessional was open. 10am on Monday -- excellent thought Jane, she could go when Peter was at work -- and 7pm in the evening -- Peter too was content, he could go after work.
And so the next day at 9.55am there was the beautiful Jane in church waiting by the confessional box, all ready to confess her sins to the kind Father Jones. She was understandably nervous, she was about to tell this dear old man that rather than being a dutiful wife that the church and society demanded, she was actually a slut for black cock. It wasn't surprising therefore that she felt a little flushed. As such she took off her coat to cool herself down.
Underneath her coat, she was wearing a small pleated red Burberry dress which showed off her bottom to the full and with that she wore a tight white shirt and 4 inch knee high black boots. Underneath she had on black stockings, garters, garter belt and a g-string. She was not wearing a bra. In her tight shirt her 36-DD tits looked magnificent and when she sat down you could see glimpses of flesh above her stockings.
Although she was not seeing Charles today, for some reason she felt compelled to dress in a way that Charles had ordered. He had earlier ordered her to dress like a slut whenever she was going to be in his presence. And it would appear that even when Jane was not due to be with Charles, she felt obliged to dress in a way that she knew would please him. It was as if she always had to be dutiful to her ultimate black Master. Also, she had begun to enjoy the looks she got. She always did get appreciative looks from men since she was stunningly beautiful -- often confused for a blonde Natalie Portman. But now the stares were different, especially from the black men, they were one of pure unadulterated lust. They gave her looks like they were all wanted to fuck her there and then and to show her no mercy. Jane loved it. It was perhaps not the appropriate way to look when you were going to confess your sins to Father Jones but since her initiation into black cock, Jane loved looking like a whore, even in God's house.
At this time the church seemed completely empty. There was no one in the cue for the confessional box and she would be the first that morning. She entered, closed the door and sat down and waited for Father Jones.
The confessional box was large and surprisingly quite comfortable. Inside was a bench to sit on but there were also nice plush red cushions to make the parishioners, and the good Fathers comfortable during confession. Sometimes these things could last a while. There was a wooden partition with a small window at the top to allow the priest and his confessor to adequately communicate. Unlike other confessional booths, there was no realistic way for either party to see one another.
Jane made herself comfortable but as she sat back her small dress rose up to display her lovely white flesh above her black stockings. Her black garters were also on display. Jane began to regret dressing like a slut for her confession, she tried to push her skirt down but to no avail. Giving up, she crossed her legs and allowed her skirt to rise up to her waist, this allowed pretty much all of her lovely legs to be on display.
A few minutes later, she should could hear, but not see, someone enter into the booth next to her. After giving the Father a few seconds she began:
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession..."
"Go on, my child?"
Jane froze. This was not the kind voice of Father Jones that she was so familiar with, this was rather a harsh deep voice, the deep voice of Father Ambrose, the black priest of the district...
Father Ambrose was a black priest in his late 40s. He had become a priest relatively late in life, just 5 years ago at the grand old age of 45. He had previously been a drug dealer but after he has seen his partner, his brother, gunned down after a feud with another dealer, Ambrose decided to turn to God for forgiveness. And indeed Father Ambrose was a sort of mini celebratory, he had helped a lot of kids off drugs and encouraged them to focus on education rather than mix in the drug culture that was prevalent in parts of New York. When he started out he had the best intentions also to be a celibate priest. However after a few months, he realised this was impossible. However, rather than turn his back on the good work he was doing, he decided combine his penchant for perverted sex with help for the community (the two were not always necessarily mutually exclusive!).
Father Ambrose was a tall black man, last time he measured himself he was 6ft 4. He was built like your stereotypical TV drug dealer, massive chest, shoulders and forearms. Not particularly good looking, he was now bald, slim face, big lips and an ugly out of shape nose, it had been broken many times.
His first foray into what was now forbidden pussy, was only 3 months after he had taken the sacred vows to become a priest. He had taken confession from a young schoolgirl, aged 18, who had confessed to giving her boyfriend a blow job. She was a delightful little thing, the image of Britney in her prime. The good Father could not resist and it was not long before he had instructed her to allow him to come to her house for some private counselling. Naturally her parents were not at home.
It did not take long for the little bitch to be tied up to her bed, her school blouse ripped open, her lovely small tits heaving up and down. Her school tie, which she still wore lay between the valley of her breasts and was a constant reminder that the old priest was fucking a young schoolgirl. Her pleated skirt had been flipped up to display her naked pussy (Father Ambrose had taken the liberty to rip of her knickers).
It had been a little bit of a struggle to get the delightful girl into this position, but once achieved Father Ambrose wasted little time in inserting his monstrous 13 inch dick into her virgin tender pussy. Oh how she had screamed when he had broken through. There were the inevitable cries of rape but her pussy soon told a different story. Once she had got used to its immense size and power, the bitch came again and again. That afternoon Father Ambrose must have fucked her at least five times and in every hole. Each time she came like a whore. He had ended proceedings by ordering her to kneel on all fours, just in her flat shoes, white ankle socks and school tie, and then proceeded to take a belt to her arse until it was a bright shade of red. He had then cruelly fucked her arse. It was a delightful scene.
Father Ambrose had come back to the house may times to fuck the young schoolgirl and it was not long before he had managed to fuck her mother. He had met her by mistake after one of their vigorous fuck sessions. He had just finished receiving a blow job after his dick had been up the young girl's arse, when her mother unexpectedly returned home. Luckily they had not been caught and he was able to pretend he was there on official church business. It was apparent that the mother had been very young when she had given birth, a teenage pregnancy she was only 30 years old and an older version of her beautiful daughter.
After persuading her to come to confession, where she confessed to secretly harbouring fantasies of sleeping with her husband's brother, the good Father soon had her in his vestry, over his knee and she received a sound spanking for having such wicked thoughts. The inevitable arse whipping and fucking followed shortly thereafter.
It was a quite a story and one that may be told in full another day...
Back to the present day, Jane was shocked to hear the deep commanding voice of Father Ambrose. She had hoped to confess to the more gentle, kinder Father Jones. She was about to make her excuses and leave when she decided that maybe confessing to a black priest was the way forward, after all, he would understand her predicament and situation better than most, and the advice and action suggested may be more helpful then Father Jones's inevitable kind words of forgiveness.
