Bell tower

Sara stood a little apart in the bell tower, following Lisa’s explicit instructions. Lisa had whispered quietly in her ear beforehand: “Keep the bride happy by ringing the bells for as long as possible. Make sure the bells don’t stop. No matter what.”

Sara was kneeling right in front of the young altar boy, her mouth wide open, sucking his hard, young cock deep and greedily. Her full lips slid up and down, her tongue swirling around the swollen head, sucking and swallowing, while the boy moaned and held her head. She had swallowed his cum before, but she didn’t stop—Lisa had ordered it, and Svenja was to be humiliated out there in front of everyone.

Lisa stood downstairs in front of the church door, cell phone in hand, grinning coldly. The reception in front of the church was almost over, and Svenja would be leaving any minute. She needed a couple of tough guys right now for what she had in mind. She walked a few steps down the street, away from the parked limousines and the fancy guests, straight to the small construction site on the corner, where three really rough-looking guys were standing around—construction workers in dirty overalls who were taking a break. One was a burly, bald guy with tattooed arms and a big beer belly; the second was a lanky, scruffy guy with long, greasy hair and a crooked grin; the third was a broad-shouldered, bearded guy with dirty boots and a look as if he hadn’t had a woman in days. All three were around thirty, sweaty, reeking of cigarettes, sweat, and cheap beer—exactly the kind of “guys off the street” Lisa had been looking for. And they were Black.

“Listen up, guys,” Lisa whispered softly but firmly, looking each of them in the eye in turn. “Up there in the tower, a horny slut named Sara is on her knees. She’s sucking off the little altar boy right now so the bells won’t stop. Every chime hammers a vibrator into her sister’s pussy—the bride down there. Svenja’s been coming for twenty minutes now with every hug. Sara knows that. And she wants it that way. If you go in now and say you’ve been sent by the priest to stop the bells immediately… then that stupid whore will do anything to stop you. Anything. A full hour. Use her however you want. Take photos with your phones. Show them around later if you feel like it. I don’t give a shit.”

The bell just boomed again—Bong! – and Sara was still kneeling there, her bridesmaid’s dress neatly hiked up, her mouth wrapped tightly around the young altar boy’s cock. Saliva glistened on her lips, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glassy with exertion. The boy moaned softly, having just cum in her mouth for the second time.

The bald man cleared his throat loudly. “Order from the priest. The bells are to be stopped now. The ceremony is over.”

The altar boy flinched, hastily pulled his cock out of Sara’s mouth, and shoved it back into his pants. Without a word, he grabbed his jacket and hurried down the stairs—he’d done his part and wanted nothing more to do with it.

Sara’s eyes widened. Panic flickered in her gaze. She hastily wiped her lips but remained on her knees. “No… please don’t! The bells have to keep ringing! You can’t turn them off! I… I’ll do anything you want. Please!” Her voice trembled, soft and ****. “My sister… she… it has to go on.”

The three guys exchanged a brief glance. The bald guy crossed his arms, eyeing her from head to toe. The bald guy took a step closer, eyeing Sara’s kneeling form from head to toe and grinning widely. “Everything? Well then, let’s negotiate, you little bell-slut.”

He slowly unzipped his pants, pulled out his thick, semi-erect cock, and weighed it in his hand. “The three of us are going to fuck you at the same time. One in your pussy, one in your ass, one in your throat. No condoms, of course. We’ll all cum on your face and tits so you’re really covered in it. We’ll film everything—with close-ups of your face—so later everyone can see exactly which bridesmaid here is playing the tower whore. And when we’re done, you’ll just let the mess run down under your dress. For an hour. After that, we’ll turn off the bells. Deal or no deal?”

Sara turned pale as a sheet. Her voice trembled with panic. “No… please not! Not all at once! And not in the face! My dress… my hair… nothing can get ruined! The guests downstairs can’t notice anything! Please… I’ll do anything, but not like this!”

The second one laughed lewdly and was already pulling the bell rope—Bong! The bald guy raised an eyebrow. “Not all at once? Then one after the other. But we’re still going to cum on your face and tits. And we’re filming with your face in it. That’s the least we can do, right? Otherwise, we might as well just go downstairs and turn off the bells.”

Sara shook her head frantically, tears of despair in her eyes. Her pussy throbbed with every chime, her juices already running warm down her thighs again. “Please… no faces in the pictures! And nothing on my dress or in my hair! I have to go back down soon… I have to look perfect! Please… just one after the other… bare… but everything just inside me… and you only film my body… please… I’ll do anything you want, but let me stay the way I am!”

The bald guy slowly slid his cock up and down in his hand, clearly enjoying her panic. He pretended to think it over, then finally nodded condescendingly. “Everything? Final offer: We’ll let the bells keep ringing for a full hour. But only on our terms. You’ll serve us one after the other. Each of us will fuck you as often as we can during that hour. No condoms. Bareback. We’ll film and take photos—but only your body, no face. You’ll take off your dress, and your hair will stay clean. No cum on it, nothing smeared. You’ll stay as presentable as you were when you came in. If you accept this, we’ll keep the bell ringing. Otherwise, it’s over.”

Sara exhaled shakily. Relief and shame battled in her gaze. “Yes… yes, I agree,” she whispered hoarsely. “One after the other. Naked, bareback. Only inside me. No face in the pictures. Dress and hair stay clean. Please… start. The bells… they have to keep ringing.”

The bald man grinned contentedly after Sara had whispered “Yes… agreed” in a trembling voice. The three black construction workers from the street—all three tall, muscular, with dark skin that glistened in the tower’s dim light—exchanged brief glances. “Good. Then get undressed, slut,” the bald man ordered quietly. “So your fucking pristine dress really doesn’t get a single stain on it. Lay everything neatly on the chair over there. You’re much more practical for us when you’re naked.”

Sara hesitated for just a second. Then she stood up, unzipped her bridesmaid’s dress, let it slide carefully to the floor, and folded it meticulously. Bra, thong, and stockings followed. Naked, she knelt down again—her full, heavy tits hung freely, her smooth-shaven pussy already glistening with wetness, her ass round and inviting. The dress and her hair remained immaculate on the chair.

At that very moment, just as the door had slammed shut behind the three men, Svenja drove off downstairs with Florian in the white limousine. The wedding guests waved them off. Svenja sat in the back seat, exhausted but relieved, her legs still trembling from hours of vibration. She could no longer hear the bells—the limousine was already turning the corner, the tower disappearing behind the houses. The bells continued to ring. But Svenja was gone. Upstairs, Sara didn’t know that.

The bald man stepped forward first. He pulled down his dirty work pants. His thick, black cock sprang out—long, thickly veined, the glans already glistening with precum. “Stay on all fours. Butt up. One of us will keep ringing the bell while we fuck you.” The Ghanaian grabbed the rope and pulled hard—Bong!—while the Cameroonian pulled out his cell phone and filmed only Sara’s naked body: not a single shot without her face. It was always clearly visible.

The bald man knelt behind Sara, spat once on his black cock, and pressed the bare glans against her wet cunt. With a long, brutal thrust, he penetrated her deeply—skin-tight, without a condom, hot and bare. Sara moaned loudly, her walls clamping down on the strange, dark cock. He fucked her slowly and deeply; every thrust made her tits sway heavily, her pussy smacking loudly and wetly.

“Can you feel that, you white Glocken whore?” he growled misogynistically.

Jan spoke to Lisa. “Look at that black-cock whore, giving her body away… while her sister’s just passed out and doesn’t notice a thing. She’s spreading her legs here for nothing and nothing at all. Just so we can use her as a naked cum slut.”

The guy picked up the pace, holding her only by the hips, without touching her hair. After a few minutes, he grunted deeply and pumped his thick, hot cum straight into her womb—thrust after thrust, deep and plenty. When he pulled out, a thin white string ran from her gaping cunt, dripping onto the stone floor. The Ghanaian took over immediately. He turned Sara onto her back, spread her legs wide, and shoved his even longer, black cock into her already cum-filled cunt. The Cameroonian kept pulling on the rope—Bong! Bong! – while he filmed the dark cock thrusting into Sara’s glistening slit, her labia stretching around it, her clit throbbing hard and swollen. The Ghanaian fucked her hard and fast, slapping his balls against her ass until Sara trembled and whimpered softly.

He had looked out the window and seen that his sister was already gone, and thought: “Look at yourself… naked and fucked by three black street cocks. Your sister is gone, and you’re still letting yourself be used like a cheap hooker. Pathetic.” He came with a deep groan, shooting his load deep inside her as well. Then it was the Cameroonian’s turn. He sat Sara on the edge of an old wooden chair, lifted her legs up, and rammed his thick, black cock into her ass—without warning, using only a little spit. Sara let out a quiet scream, but she remained obedient, her knees spread wide. He fucked her tight ass deep and mercilessly, while the bald guy now pulled on the rope and let the bells keep ringing.

Inside, he laughed: “You’re just a hole, white slut. Three black cocks in your pussy and your ass, and you swallow it all, just so the ringing doesn’t stop—even though your sister’s been gone for a long time.”

For a full hour, they took turns like this. One after another. Each fucked Sara’s pussy and ass bareback, deep and thoroughly. They just came inside her—thick, warm loads in her pussy, in her ass; sometimes she let them squeeze the leftovers out with their fingers and lick them up, so nothing dripped onto the floor or her dress. The cell phones filmed only her naked, trembling body: her bouncing tits, her wide-open pussy, the gleaming black cocks thrusting into her, the little strands of cum running out of her. And especially her face.

In the end, Sara stood up, her legs trembling, her pussy and ass full of the warm cum of the three black men. She slowly got dressed again—the dress slid flawlessly over her body, her hair was perfectly styled. Nothing betrayed what had just happened. The three grinned, put their phones away, and walked down the stairs.

“It was our pleasure, Bell Whore.”