Reluctantly Deflowered by Pastor Graham Read online

  It wasn't working.

  “So, Maggie,” he said, turning his gaze on me. I feared that he would see right through me, straight into the depths of my depravity. “Your mother tells me you're quite the seamstress.”

  I blushed. There was truth to it, I was at least as good as Mother, but I never really thought of it as anything to be proud of. My mother made money at it, because she was the best for miles around, and few people were as good at fitting dresses and formal wear as she was.

  “I'm okay,” I said.

  “Hush, child,” Mother said. “You'll be joining me in the business. You and Danny will need the extra money for when the children come along.”

  I choked on a piece of ham. Children? I really didn't want to be reminded about children. Danny was red faced, as well, although he wasn't choking. Pastor Graham drew his hand back, and, for a split second, I thought he was going to strike me for being brazen. Instead, he hit me on the back with his open palm and I coughed up the bit of ham.

  “Sorry,” I said, my voice raw and squeaking.

  “Its all right,” Pastor Graham said, he rubbed my back. It was a gentle, absent touch, really, but it only served to stoke the fires of lust within me. I panicked, unable to contain the fierce burning inside of me, but deathly afraid of confronting it.

  “I don't feel so well,” I said, hoping that the distress on my face sold it. “Mother, may I go upstairs and lie down?”

  Mother frowned at me, but she was in a delicate spot. Pastor Graham didn't know just how much yelling, screaming, and outright abuse she subjected me to on a daily basis. I was counting on her not wanting to upset him, knowing full well that I'd pay for it later.

  “Of course dear,” she said. “I'll tidy up.”

  I wiped my mouth, dropped the napkin on my plate, and apologized profusely to Pastor Graham and Danny as I headed for the stairs. I could feel his eyes upon me the whole time, watching, judging.

  I curled up in my bed, trying to purge my mind of the unclean thoughts. I didn't want to be a sinner, and I had no idea why this was happening to me. It was an hour before I heard the creaking stairs that signaled Mother's approach. My door flew open, but I remained in a fetal position.

  “What were you thinking?” Mother said, her voice filling the house with spite. “How dare you make a scene like that.”

  “I wasn't feeling well,” I said. I knew better than to yell back. I still had stripes on my back from the first and only time I'd tried it.

  “Well, you better straighten out whatever it is before next weekend. You are getting married, and you will not ruin this for me.” The door slammed shut, leaving me in the darkness once more.

  I wrestled with my demons, but could not overcome them. My desire was too strong and I could not contain it. I cried, sobbing violently in my despair. I could see no way out of my predicament, no way to erase my sins. A thought occurred to me, then, as tears stained my cheeks and soaked into my pillow. There was someone who could help me, and I needed to see him. Pastor Graham. I fell asleep, wrapped in the hope that he would know what to do, how to fix me. I resolved to see him in the morning, after Mother had gone to her sewing shop.

  ***

  I cracked open my eyes and watched the first rays of sunlight enter my room through the window. Sleep had done wonders for my disposition, and, with a firm plan in my head, I got out of bed and started the long process of putting myself together. It happened slowly. Mother was already out. She was an early riser and diligent worker. She wouldn't be home until dusk, more than likely. That gave me plenty of time to enact my scheme.

  I showered, and the hot water helped me sluice all of the fear, anger, and despair of yesterday away, like so much dirt and grime. I stayed in for a bit longer than normal, relaxing as much as possible before I confronted the pastor. I was nervous, but determined. If I was ever going to straighten out my life and become Godly again, I'd need his help. I was sure of it.

  I skipped breakfast. My stomach roiled with guilt and unease, and I feared even dry toast would come back up on me. I contented myself with a cup of tea, sipping the hot liquid slowly as I gathered my courage. It was eight in the morning, by the clock, and Pastor Graham would be at the church soon. I wore a simple gray skirt and blue blouse. I didn't want to appear wanton in front of the pastor, even if I was. The familiar stirring started again, but I held it down as I finished my tea, rinsed out the cup, and left it to dry. I grabbed my keys, opened the door, and stepped out onto the walkway.

  It was a beautiful day, already. The sun lit our small, country lane and I could smell the scent of fresh cut grass and wildflowers on the air. The cheery atmosphere buoyed my spirits and lent me strength as I walked down the dusty road toward the church. Surely, God was looking out for me and wanted me to know that he approved. He wanted me to make myself clean again, I just knew it.

  It was about two miles to the church and I covered it in about half an hour. Danny would be at the mine, so his father would be alone. Monday was Grace's day off, and she was the only other person that worked for the church. I stopped in the parking lot and looked up at the simple, wooden building. A grant from the coal mining company had allowed us to build a fine church, but, in our hearts, we knew that simple was better.

  What it did have was ample office space for the pastor, as well as a small kitchen and numerous rooms for bible study and daycare for small children while their parents were in services. There was a bell, and a steeple topped with a plain, white cross. It felt holy and right in a way that I couldn't completely describe.

  I walked up to the entrance and opened one of the doors. They were rarely locked during the day, and, very rarely, folks came and sat in one of the pews and had words with God. No one ever discussed it, it was just a necessary thing for some people. Inside was cool and inviting, but I was warm and growing hot. Now that I was here, I wasn't entirely sure of my idea. The thought of being alone with Pastor Graham sent me into a panic. Lust rose, unbidden, and I turned to leave.

  “Maggie,” he said, approaching from behind me. “What brings you here this morning?”

  Lost, I turned and faced him. He was my unwitting tormentor, but I couldn't tell him that. “Pastor,” I said, pausing for a few breaths. I fought down my lust, but couldn't meet his gaze. “I just need to talk.”

  He smiled at me, unaware of the beast he was prodding. “Jitters?” he said. “Happens to everyone. Come, we'll talk in my office.”

  I followed, meekly, but nearly jumped out of my skin when he put a hand on the small of my back. Unclean images forced their way into my head, and I just wanted to break down into tears, right there in the church hallway. I was ready for this torture to end. He led me into his chamber, a small office with the same red carpet as the rest of the church. It housed an old desk, some chairs in various states of disrepair, and a bookshelf loaded with bibles and religious texts of all kinds.

  “Sit,” Pastor Graham said, motioning to the chair in front of his desk. I lowered myself into its red, vinyl coated seat, and it squeaked in protest. The Pastor sat in his customary position, across the desk from me. I'd been here before, both as a girl and as a young woman. Once I'd taken the Lord's name in vain in daycare, and the other was just after my father had died.

  “Now,” he said, and I was taken by the way he looked at me. There was concern in his eyes, but also something harder, more predatory. I couldn't place it, but it made me nervous and excited all at the same time. “What's the problem, Maggie?”

  “Well,” I said, my courage fading rapidly. “I guess I'm just having second thoughts, is all. A lifetime is a long time to spend with someone, and, well,”

  “Danny is a quiet, introspective young man. Hard to get to know.”

  “Yes, that's a good part of it,” I said, looking for an out that wouldn't lead to my eternal embarrassment, or worse.

  “And what's the other part?”

  “That's, that's kind of personal.”

  “And it's causing you to n
ot want to marry my son, correct?”

  “Uh.”

  “Is it another boy?”

  “No,” I said. He was getting far too close to the truth for my comfort and it must have shown in some way. Maybe on my face, maybe a nervous tick. Above all, I couldn't stop myself from thinking about him, his arms, his broad chest. I had made a mistake in coming to the object of my desires for assistance. “Not exactly.”

  “Then what is it?” He scowled at me and stood up. The effect was brutally efficient, as he loomed over me with a presence I'd never seen in anyone, ever, not even my father. I sniffled as I fought back tears.

  “Thoughts,” I said. “Unclean thoughts. Sexual thoughts.” There, it was out, to my unending shame.

  His visage changed. The scowl remained, but the predatory look I'd seen earlier returned, and it was focused wholly on me. He rounded the desk and stood in front of me. I couldn't bear to look him in the eye, so I took a page from Danny and stared at my shoes.

  “I see,” he said. “It's not unnatural to have these kinds of thoughts, Maggie. Everyone does.”

  “Really?” I said, not quite believing that he wasn't furious with me. “But,”

  “Have you acted on them?”

  “Sometimes,” I said. “When I'm alone.”

  “But you haven't had relations with the object of these thoughts, correct?”

  “Yes, I mean, no, I haven't.”

  “Then you haven't sinned, Maggie,” he said, and my heart lifted. “You are guilty of being a curious young lady.”

  I could have left it at that, could have walked away, and I would probably have been fine. Instead, I blurted out, “But its you I have these thoughts about, Pastor.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, I, I,” I said, bursting into a fresh round of tears.

  He squatted down and cupped my face with his hand. It was rough, callused from hard work, but it felt like silk against my skin. The beast rose up within me, fueled by his touch and my sinful lust. Our eyes met and I saw naked, raw hunger in his, and I knew that I was lost.

  “We'll have to do something about that, Maggie,” he said, his free hand on my knee. “And Danny can never know.”

  “What?”

  “There's only one way to exorcise these demons, Maggie,” he said, rising to his full height in front of me. He was beautiful, but I couldn't do this. In church?

  He didn't answer me, instead, he walked to the door and locked it. My mind was a flurry of fear and shame. I couldn't sin in church, not like this, but I was caught in the throes of desire. This was what I wanted, for this man of God to take me and use me and show me the ways of the flesh.

  He approached the back of my chair and placed his hands on my shoulders. I flinched at his touch, but still he was silent. He reached further down, to the top button of my blouse and unfastened it. Then, slowly, agonizingly, he repeated the process, until my blouse was undone. I shivered, exposed to a man for the first time.

  He took the blouse off and pushed me forward. I was in such a state of shock that I didn't put up a fight. Pastor Graham unhooked my bra and took it off. Horrified, I covered my naked breasts as he spun me around in the chair to face him.

  “Put your hands down, Maggie,” he said. Such was the force of his voice that I did it without question. My pussy was wet with desire, already, and growing wetter with each passing moment.

  He knelt in front of me, a penitent man at worship. I tried to protest, to deny him, to deny what I was feeling, but he took my nipple in his mouth and sucked at it. I moaned, consumed by pleasure. I grabbed the back of his head and wove my fingers into his thick, dark hair as he nibbled and suckled on my tits. It was everything I'd fantasized about, only better.

  He hiked up my skirt, revealing the wanton slut within me as I twisted and squirmed in the chair. It felt like I was on fire, my nipples wet with his saliva as he alternated between them, teasing them until they were rock hard. His hand found my panties, soaked in the juices of my shame, my arousal, and I whimpered. His touch was electric, and, when he caressed my clit with his finger, I arched my back in response.

  He backed off, grabbed my skirt in both hands and tore it from me. I was shocked, nearly naked and spread out like a whore for Pastor Graham. He said nothing, fixing me with his eyes as he grabbed the waistband of my panties.

  “Oh, Pastor Graham,” I said. “No, we can't do this.”

  “We can, Maggie,” he said and pulled. I opened my mouth to protest again, but he covered it with one mammoth hand as his own mouth descended on my virgin pussy. My eyes widened as the tip of his tongue traced a trail between my folds. It was sweet and agonizing, a teasing hint of unending pleasure. He removed his hand and pulled me forward, granting himself full access to my dripping snatch.

  And I was powerless in his grasp. His mouth was a wild, wonderful thing, sucking at my clit as his tongue flogged it. I mewled and twisted, grinding my hips up into that magic orifice as he ate me. The pressure built within me, furious and ready to be unleashed. He could sense it, and he attacked my swollen clit with his tongue, pressing, swirling, and massaging it as I skittered toward oblivion.

  It hit me hard. I grabbed his head once more and pulled him toward me as my body shook and shimmied in the throes of my thunderous orgasm. It was better than anything I'd ever felt.

  “Oh, God!” I cried. I could no longer fight my sinful nature. It had taken me over and I wanted more, much more.

  He rose, his mouth wet with my desire.

  “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord in vain, Maggie,” he said, and I blanched. What was he going to do to me? “I guess you'll have to do penance.”

  “No, Pastor Graham,” I said, watching in horror as he unzipped his fly. His member was stiff and thick, and, God help me, I wanted it, but I was sure that my inexperience would only make him angry.

  “You let me worry about that,” he said, grabbing my head and pulling me toward him. “You worry about wrapping your lips around my cock.”

  I flushed beet red at the mention of the word. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I can't. I never,”

  “You'll learn, girl. Now do as I say,” he said.

  I opened my mouth and he guided it to his engorged dick. The chair creaked as it leaned forward under my weight. The tip slip past my lips and into my wet and waiting mouth. I sucked at it, softly at first, but harder as I heard the Pastor's groans. It became a game. I took him deeper, licking the underside of his shaft as his dick grew in my mouth. I bobbed up and down, covering his shaft with my saliva and thoroughly enjoying his reaction.

  He grabbed my hair, twisting it up in his strong fingers and bringing tears to my eyes. I looked up at him, and the desire in his eyes mirrored my own. He took control from me, thrusting his cock into my mouth in rapid strokes, each one a little deeper than the last. It should have horrified me, but I was so entrenched in my sin that it made me even hotter. He plunged further, the head of his dick brushing the back of my throat.

  I gagged.

  He held it there, cutting off my air supply as I struggled to control my reflexes. I grew lightheaded and my vision started to fade. He pulled back, taking his cock from my mouth as I sputtered and gasped for oxygen. His cock quivered in front of my face, glistening with my saliva. I wanted it inside me.

  “Very, very good,” he said, unbuckling his pants and letting them drop to the floor. I stayed in the chair, gulping down air as he stripped off his shoes and underwear. “Danny is a lucky boy.”

  His legs were taut and well muscled and I remembered that he had once been a logger, a profession once common in the area until the timber companies over cut. He picked me up by my hair, fully in control as he pulled me over to his desk. A jumble of thoughts ran through my head, and I was unsure about the act we were going to perform.

  “Pastor,” I said. “I don't think I can. I mean,”

  “Can what, Maggie?”

  “Do this.”

  “Of course you can,” he said.
The wood was cool against my bare breasts, and Pastor Graham's hand moved down to the small of my back, pressing me down onto the hard, unyielding surface. “And once you do, your demons will be gone.”

  He forced me to splay my legs out, his hand pressing against the inside of my thigh and drawing a moan from me. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was a sin. But I had to have this man's cock inside of me. It was driving me crazy.

  “Relax,” he said. I felt his hard rod against my thigh as he positioned himself. The head parted the wet folds of my snatch and I clawed at the desk, ravenous and longing to be fucked. It pressed against the entrance to my tight, little hole and I wiggled my hips in an attempt to force it into me. Then he took it away.

  I lost my mind for a moment and pounded on the desk in frustration. My frustration turned to pain as Pastor Graham's hand came down on my ass, hard. It reminded me of another time he had punished me. That was about the time I'd become obsessed with the man. I cried out with each slap, the sound of his hand on my fleshy buttocks echoed off of the walls of the small office and rang in my ears. The pain and the denial made me even more wanton.

  “Penance,” Pastor Graham said. “For taking the Lord's name in vain. For cheating on your husband to be.” Each phrase was punctuated by a smack. I felt dirty, loathsome. It should have made me ashamed, but it only made me want his cock more.

  “Now that we've taken care of that,” Pastor Graham said. His cock pressed ahead again, torturing me with its proximity to my thoroughly soaked snatch. “We can exorcise your demons properly.”

  “Look at how wet you are,” Pastor Graham said. I started to reply, but the head of his dick entered my pussy and my reply turned into a keening moan. It hurt, just a little, but it felt so good that I could barely contain myself. He held it there, stretching my poor little pussy out as I squirmed under his hand, lewdly impaled by his thick cock.

  “There we go,” he said, pressing forward. The shaft was a little smaller than the head, so my cunt closed around it as he worked his way deeper into me. My fingernails dug into the wood of the desk, but Pastor Graham paid it no mind. I felt a sharp pinch as he pushed forward, and then it was gone. My derriere still throbbed, but it was just background noise to the new sensations he subjected me to.