Selling Brielle, Part 7

Selling Brielle, Part 7

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.)

===

“So, Jillian, have you met any nice boys yet?” asked Pastor George.

Sitting at the table, staring at her food, Jillian didn’t answer. She was still in a state of shock.

The pastor had sexually assaulted her in the kitchen. He had slipped a finger into her pussy. He had implied that he had non-consensually **** and enslaved his wife Tammy. He had laughed at her.

And she couldn’t say anything. The issue of her wife Brielle’s relationship with her homophobic church was so fraught between them that the merest criticism would result in an argument. If she accused the pastor of sexually assaulting her, Brielle would never believe her, and it would be the end of their relationship for sure.

Brielle nudged Jillian with an elbow. “Jillian?” she prompted. “Answer the pastor.”

Jillian jumped. She remembered that they were supposed to be pretending they were heterosexual now, backing up the offensive “white lie” Brielle had told about leaving behind their “lesbian phase”. They needed to pretend to be giving up lesbianism so Brielle could please her queer-hating pastor and get the job she wanted at the church.

“Oh,” she said. “I don’t know. I guess there’s one boy I’ve been seeing that’s kind of nice.”

She thought about Joel, and pictured kneeling at his feet and having her hair stroked, as she shared naked pictures of Brielle with him. She wished she was there now.

“Oh?” asked Brielle. “I haven’t heard about this. Tell us more.” Her eyes were full of amusement as she pressed for details of what she thought was a wholly fictional relationship.

Jillian watched as Brielle popped another piece of the roast pork into her mouth and savoured it, with no idea that the mushroom sauce on her meal had been made using Joel’s sperm.

“Oh, we just hang out sometimes,” said Jillian. “Watch videos. He’s sweet.”

Pastor George chuckled. “And does he… ahem… arouse any heterosexual instincts in you?”

Brielle swallowed her pork, and added, “The pastor is asking if he makes you wet, honey.” She was still smiling at what she thought was a joke between them.

Jillian closed her eyes. “He makes me very wet,” she said. And it was true.

“You should tell him to be rough with you,” said Pastor George. “In my experience, women identify as lesbians because of a certain level of psychological self-hatred. They want to punish themselves, you see. Often it takes a certain level of **** from a man - and even pain - to allow a so-called ‘lesbian’ to be fully satisfied in heterosexual intercourse.”

He looked across at his wife Tammy. “That was certainly your experience, wasn’t it, my love?”

Tammy blushed, and took a sip from her milk. Jillian thought about how she had added some of Joel’s cum to Tammy’s drink, and Tammy was even now unknowingly drinking semen.

Finally, Tammy spoke. “Yes,” she said. “Being **** helps me to enjoy my marital duties.”

Brielle giggled. “I’ll have to remember that advice,” she said.

To Brielle this was all a fun game, a fiction, because she wasn’t really heterosexual, and she would never need to fuck a man. But to everyone else at the table, the conversation carried a sinister and humiliating undertone.

“I can hardly wait for you to come to work in the church for us, Brielle,” said the pastor. “We have a lot of work to catch up on. There may be some late nights with just the two of us. I hope you can stand to spend so much time with your boring old pastor.”

Jillian’s face went red. The pastor’s implication was clear to her, if not to Brielle. He was taunting Jillian, basically admitting that he intended to **** Brielle exactly as he had molested Jillian - or worse.

And yet, Jillian could say nothing.

“Oh, no,” said Brielle. “Honestly, we need the money. And you’re not so bad!”

He *was* so bad. He was a homophobic ****. Why couldn’t Brielle see it?

But there was genial laughter from the pastor and his wife, and there was nothing Jillian could do.

She had to end this horrible dinner. She had to bring it to a close, or else she would scream, or hit someone, or accuse the pastor of **** right here and now.

She excused herself, got up, and went back to the kitchen, watching over her shoulder to ensure the pastor wouldn’t follow her again.

Once there, she poured wine for herself and Brielle. And then she opened the cupboard, and got out the tranquilisers that Brielle kept for the nights when one or both women just couldn’t sleep. She took two pills - a heavy dose - and stirred them into Brielle’s drink. Then she carried the glasses back to the table and put Brielle’s in front of her.

It worked like a charm. Brielle drank her wine, and then twenty minutes later she could barely keep her eyes open.

“I’m so sorry!” she said, in a slurred, sleepy voice. “I don’t know what happened. Maybe I’m coming down with a virus…”

“It’s quite all right,” said Pastor George. “It’s been a delicious meal. We’ll leave you to get a good night’s sleep - and see you in two days for your first day of work at the church.”

The guests stood to leave, and then offered Brielle and Jillian hugs. Brielle accepted, so Jillian could hardly say no - and, just as she had feared, when the Pastor hugged her, he discreetly slid a hand up under her skirt and caressed her panty-less pussy. Brielle was so **** she could barely see, so there was little danger of being caught.

“Such a lovely evening,” whispered the pastor in Jillian’s ear as he parted her pussy lips and ran a finger over her clitoris. “I look forward to many more.”

And then, blessedly, the pastor and his wife left.

Brielle was basically ****, so Jillian took her to bed. But she had no intention of sleeping next to her wife.

She knew where she wanted to go.

===

She had to bang on Joel’s door for five minutes before he answered, and when he did, he looked dishevelled and hastily dressed.

“I’m sorry,” said Jillian. “Did I disturb something?”

“Ah…” said Joel, embarrassed. “I wasn’t expecting you, and…”

Jillian looked further down, and saw that Joel’s cock was creating an enormous tent in the crotch of his pants.

“Oh my god,” she laughed. “Were you… masturbating?”

“I was enjoying some private time,” replied Joel, blushing - but smiling. “A man’s allowed to enjoy himself.”

She bit her lip, and slyly asked, “Were you looking at Brielle?” She found she quite liked the thought that Joel had been masturbating over the secret nude photos of Jillian’s wife even as Brielle had been humiliating them both at dinner.

“Actually, it was the one of both of you,” said Joel. “Look, did you want to come in or not?”

She did, so she allowed him to show her to the lounge. Joel sat on the couch, and Jillian took her customary place at his feet.

Her eyes fixed on his crotch again. “Did you… finish?” she asked.

“Not quite,” said Joel, clearly a little frustrated. “But ignore me. What happened at the dinner? You look distressed.”

She was actually feeling a lot calmer than when she had left the house. The sexy feeling of knowing that Joel had been masturbating - and masturbating over *her* - was wiping away much of her panic and humiliation.

“Let me help,” she said, and reached out and unzipped his pants, then extracted his cock from his underwear. It bounced to attention, pre-cum drooling from the tip.

Joel pushed her hand away. “Jillian, please,” he said. “I’m worried about you. Did something happen?”

She couldn’t look away from his cock. Its aroused state was concrete evidence of how much Joel was attracted to both Jillian and her wife. His erection was like a compliment - one that couldn’t be faked.

“I’ll tell you what happened, if you let me help you finish,” she said, looking up at him with what she hoped were irresistible puppy-dog eyes. And she took his cock in one hand.

Joel moaned, and his eyes rolled back in his head. He slumped down in the chair slightly, to give her better access to his cock. “Fine,” he said, in a voice that was clearly intended to sound ****, but which was thick with lust.

And so she told him about the dinner - and her own molestation - while slowly pumping his cock. At one point he stopped her to suggest that she put a condom on him, but she ignored him, talking over the top, hypnotised by the glisten of pre-cum on his foreskin and glans.

She thought that it should have felt wrong to talk about being sexually molested while giving a man a handjob. But it actually made her feel better about it. When she got to the pastor pulling down her panties and fingering her, she felt Joel’s cock harden and twitch in her hand, and she knew that he was aroused by her violation. And *that* should have felt wrong as well, but it didn’t. The fact that her humiliating encounter aroused Joel made it better, like it had served a purpose, rather than just being a degradation she had been helpless against. If her molestation gave her a sexy story to share with Joel, there was at least a silver lining to it.

When the pastor took and kept Jillian’s panties, Joel asked her if she was still bare-cunted now, and Jillian admitted that she was. Joel like that, too - or at least his cock did.

She blushed as she talked about using Joel as her “imaginary boyfriend”, and blushed further as she repeated her line about how he made her wet. She knew she shouldn’t say that - that it was admitting to more than she wanted - but she wanted to see what it would do to Joel’s cock, and to her satisfaction she felt him twitch in her hand, and more pre-cum leak over her fingers, as Joel groaned and bucked his hips.

And then she talked about what she had done after the pastor left. How she had undressed the **** Brielle, and lain her down in bed - and then photographed her from every angle for Joel.

“And I fucked her while she slept,” added Jillian. “Or at least I licked her pussy. Which I guess is technically ****, but she deserves it. Because if she wants to be **** by that fucking pastor so bad, at least I should get a turn first, right?”

Joel was bucking hard against her hand now, visibly approaching orgasm.

So Jillian shared her final secret.

“And then, just before I left to come visit you, I took your last condom of sperm, and I pushed it up Brielle’s pussy,” she confessed. “She won’t let us use birth control, because she says we don’t need it if we’re never going to fuck a man. So maybe she’s pregnant now.” She looked Joel directly in the eyes. “How do you feel, non-consensually getting a lesbian pregnant?”

He gasped, and bucked - and, without letting herself stop to think, Jillian leaned down and took his cock in her mouth. Immediately, Joel began to cum, and Jillian felt his hot semen pumping into her eager mouth. She had never wanted anything so much as she wanted to swallow his cum - because it would please him, and she wanted to please Joel very badly.

And it did please him. But as Jillian swallowed his hot, salty cum, looking up with adoration at Joel’s face as he drained his balls into her mouth, she was surprised to realise how much it also pleased her.

(TO BE CONTINED)