Selling Brielle, Part 6

Selling Brielle, Part 6

Story by All These Roadworks (2022).

Author's Note: Writing pays my bills and keeps the lights on - so if you enjoy this story, please consider supporting its creation with the purchase of an e-book or membership from AllTheseRoadworks.com. (Click here to view the store.)

Also - my kinks aren't my politics! I support respect, equity and positive, enthusiastic consent. (Click here to read more on my content policy.)

===

Brielle wanted Jillian to dress up for dinner.

“Just wear something… nice,” she said, pleadingly.

Jillian was wearing a loose blouse that she would have been happy to wear to any restaurant in town. “I *am* wearing something nice,” she protested.

“Like me,” clarified Brielle.

Brielle didn’t look “nice”. She looked *sexy*. She was wearing a tight grey one-piece dress that hugged her tits and hips and stopped halfway down her thighs. She could arguably have been said to look “elegant” - she would certainly not be out of place in an expensive bar or nightclub - but she also would not have been out of place in a harem of very expensive prostitutes.

“It’s just your homophobic pastor,” complained Jillian. “And - look, honestly, I haven’t met his wife, so I’m not going to call her a bitch, but if she’s married to that guy I don’t know how nice a person she can be.”

Brielle glared daggers at Jillian. “Stop it,” she hissed. “You agreed to this. My church is important to me. This *job* they’re offering is important to me. It should be important to you, too. I know our finances aren’t great.”

Brielle had no idea how bad their finances were, because she never wanted to talk about it. She didn’t know they’d been struggling to pay the rent for months. And she *certainly* didn’t know that Jillian had been secretly selling nude pictures of Brielle to her friend Joel to make up the difference.

But she was right. It would be good for them if Brielle got a real job - one with better pay and more reliable hours than her meagre shifts at the local supermarket.

“Fine,” said Jillian, unhappy. “I’ll be nice to Pastor George, and I won’t call his wife a bitch.”

“You’ll call her Tammy,” said Brielle. “Which is her name.” She paused. “And you’ll wear something nice.”

Jillian *did* end up wearing something nice - a little black dress that she might have chosen if she were trying to pick up women in a bar, that made her look (in Brielle’s own words, from a previous date night) “extremely fuckable”.

But she can’t help but think, as she wriggled into it, feeling it press tightly against her tits and ass, whether Joel would like her in it, and how he might show his approval if he did…

===

Pastor George and Tammy arrived in the early evening, and Brielle welcomed them into the house. Jillian noted with sour disapproval - and a little jealousy - that Brielle *hugged* her pastor, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her tits against his chest. Jillian herself settled for a cool handshake.

But when she saw the pastor’s wife, Tammy, she felt a sharp current of shock run through her.

Pastor George himself was a man in his late 40s, with a reasonably trim body, and neatly-cropped salt and pepper hair. But his wife, Tammy, couldn’t have been more than 22. She was gorgeous, with long blonde hair, rosy cheeks, and cute, pouting lips - and she was visibly pregnant.

More than that, Jillian *knew* Tammy. And not from church. She had a clear memory of seeing Tammy during her first year of university, right before she had met Brielle. She had seen Tammy at a lesbian bar. Jillian remembered staring at Tammy with lust and longing from across the bar, wanting to go up to her, to ask her out - until Tammy had turned towards another girl, apparently her girlfriend, and engaged her in a long, soulful kiss.

Was Tammy just bisexual? How had she come to be married - and pregnant - to a homophobic Christian pastor?

Tammy gave no sign that she recognised Jillian - and nor would she, as they had never spoken. She smiled a warm, beautiful smile, as she briefly shook Jillian’s hand, and floated gracefully towards the dining room of their house.

“I’m so glad you two girls have gotten over that silly ‘lesbian’ phase,” said Pastor George as he entered the dining room. “You must feel so relieved to have let go of all that nonsense.”

Jillian’s face twisted briefly in fury - but then she saw the warning glare from Brielle. They were supposed to be pretending that they were going straight, to play along with Brielle’s pathetic, demeaning lie.

“Yes,” said Jillian, through gritted teeth. “I feel so much happier now.”

The pastor laughed. “And have you found a good man yet?”

“Not yet,” said Jillian tersely. She guided the pastor and his wife to the dinner table. “Can I get you drinks?”

“I’ll have a coffee, honey,” said Brielle - and then jerked. “I mean, Jillian.” She laughed nervously. “It’s hard to get out of the habit, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” said the Pastor. “I’ll have some wine, please. And milk for Tammy - it’s good for the baby.”

Jillian smiled, and went into the kitchen.

Beneath the kitchen counter, she had a black box, and within it were several condoms, tied off at the end, filled with as much cum as she had been able to milk from Joel the previous night. She made up the requested drinks, and then tipped an entire condom full of cum into Brielle’s mug. Secretly feeding her girlfriend a man’s cum was how she was going to get through this demeaning experience.

After a moment’s thought, she squeezed the last of the cum from the condom into Tammy’s drink, on the basis that it appeared that Tammy was a traitor to the lesbian cause, and probably deserved it.

She brought the drinks back to the table, and watched with delight as both Brielle and Tammy drank from their respective drinks, and declared them to be delicious.

“Do you know that Tammy here used to think she was a lesbian?” asked Pastor George, as he sipped his wine.

Brielle gasped. Jillian tried to feign surprise.

“Oh, she had quite the rebellious period, being promiscuous with other girls,” said the Pastor. He looked at Tammy. Tammy was blushing bright red, clearly humiliated by this topic of discussion.

But the Pastor acted oblivious. “But inside every so-called lesbian is just a sex addicted silly little slut,” he continued. “Apparently Tammy here was fucking all sorts of men around town too. And when she inevitably got pregnant, she didn’t even know who the father was. Did you, Tammy?”

“No,” said Tammy in a small, humiliated voice.

“Well, she couldn’t continue with her studies in law with a baby inside her,” said the Pastor. “Nor could she work. She was facing a life on the street - possibly a life of prostitution. But luckily God brought Tammy to me, and I saw the true heterosexual angel within her. I offered to take her as my wife, and make a straight woman of her, and be a father to her child, and to my delight, Tammy said yes.”

Tammy was just looking straight down and blushing. She didn’t look happy. She looked a little confused, and sick, to be honest.

Jillian stared at Tammy. Something was wrong here. Tammy didn’t look delighted to be married to the pastor. She looked more scared than anything else.

Then she looked at Brielle. Brielle’s eyes were shining with admiration, taking in every homophobic word that dropped from the Pastor’s lips as though it were gold. Jillian knew that anything she said on this topic would start an argument - and a very public one at that.

“I’m just going to leave you to chat,” she announced, “while I finish preparing our dinner for tonight. It’s almost done, and I should have it with you soon. Please excuse me.”

And, smiling her fakest smile, she retreated through the door into the kitchen.

The dinner was to be pork, and she had been roasting the pork all day long. It would be topped with a mushroom sauce - but she had made a special sauce just for Brielle, which contained three condoms of Joel’s sperm. She withdrew the pork from the oven, and began slicing off meat for each of the guests.

The door banged behind her, and she turned to see that Pastor George had entered the kitchen.

“Don’t mind me,” he said. “Just re-filling my wine.”

She was only too happy to ignore him and concentrate on the meal.

But a moment later, she jumped. The Pastor’s hand was on her ass! More than that, it was working its way under the hem of her dress, up her inner thigh, touching her between her legs!

She tried to spin around, but the Pastor put a firm hand on her shoulder, holding her in position, facing the kitchen bench.

“Sssh,” he said. “I don’t think things are going very well with you and your girlfriend, are they? I think if you accused me of anything inappropriate, there would be an argument, wouldn’t there?”

Jillian’s face was bright red. He was right - she knew he was right. But did he seriously just expect her to stand here and let him **** her?

Apparently he did. She felt his hand press against her perineum, then creep up between her legs, and rub at her pussy through her underwear.

She tried to squeeze her legs together.

“Now, now, there’s no need for that,” said the Pastor. He put a foot between her legs, then **** his knee between them, and kicked them apart. At the same time, he pinched the crotch of her underwear between his fingers and pulled. The panties came loose from her waist, and immediately slid down her thighs to rest on top of the Pastor’s knee.

“You know, Tammy struggled at first, too,” said the Pastor. His mouth was close to her ear, his chest pressed against her back. He was whispering. “She fought and resisted, and kicked and bit, but she understood her destiny deep down, and she was wet for it, when I finally got inside her. And over time she learned that just because she was crying, it didn’t mean she couldn’t cum as well.”

His hand went back to her pussy - now bare - and parted her pussy lips, tracing the cleft of her cunt from her fuckhole to her clitoris.

“You be a good girl and stay quiet,” he said, “and no one will need to know that you were wet when I did it.”

And she *was* wet. She hated herself. She didn’t want this, and she *definitely* hated the Pastor’s guts - but her cunt had decided to be traitorously damp to his touch. And her nipples were hard, too, she realised, and her face flushed. What kind of slut was she, to juice up to the touch of a molester?

The pastor slipped a finger up her fuckhole, and she felt her body quiver. She gasped involuntarily.

“Say you want to be ****,” whispered the Pastor. “Say it, and I won’t do it. If you ask, I’ll spare you. So that if you don’t say it, it must mean that you actually want it.”

She found it hard to think straight. What he was saying was nonsense. But - no matter how wet her cunt was - she didn’t want to be ****. Not by a man. Not by *this* man.

“Say it,” whispered the Pastor. He slid a second finger into her pussy and began to pump.

Jillian felt her hips bucking against the fingers involuntarily, and each buck pressed her ass backwards against the pastor’s crotch. She could feel the hardness of his cock through his pants.

“Say it.”

“Please, **** me,” moaned Jillian softly. “Please, Pastor, **** me.”

The Pastor laughed - and then stepped away. His fingers came out of her pussy. His hand came off her shoulder. He let her straighten, and turn.

As she turned, her panties slipped the rest of the way down to her feet, and without thinking, she stepped out of them, wanting to have her legs free to run, or kick.

Without missing a beat, the Pastor stooped, picked up her panties, and tucked them into one of his pockets with a smile. Then he reached out and wiped his other hand - the one that had been in her cunt - clean on her face, leaving a smear of her own cunt juices across her cheek.

“You’re not a lesbian, Jillian,” said the Pastor. “You’re just a slut, who won’t admit how much she needs cock. But you will, in time. Just like your girlfriend will. And if only you’d be a part of the church, we could make that happen for you that much sooner.”

And with that, he turned and returned to the dining room, somehow having managed to pour a fresh glass of wine in the process of sexually molesting Jillian.

Jillian stared after him with shocked, violated eyes. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. What had just been done to her. What the Pastor had implied, about his relationship with Tammy, and about his plans for Brielle.

And then she could deny what she needed no longer. Her hand went down to her pussy, desperately spreading her lips, finding her clitoris, stroking it, *pinching* it…

It took her less than a minute to make herself orgasm.

But the guilt of knowing she had needed it would take much longer to fade.

(TO BE CONTINUED)