Faith in Miracles

Wilson didn’t put much stock in stuff like miracles, but his good fortune at meeting Heather was nearly enough to change his mind.

It was a beautiful morning in Iowa when their paths crossed. He was driving his truck down I-80, a route he’d gone up and down a million times before, and there she was, trying to hitchhike. He didn't usually stop for anyone, but he could make an exception for fuckable young women.

“Oh my, thank you so much, sir!” she said excitedly when he let her in. There was a sharp southern twang to her speech. “I was starting to think nobody was gonna stop! The name's Heather! Heather Matthews!”

“Mm hmm,” he replied, admiring the view. The twenty something girl had a smiling, innocent face, with a smattering of freckles near her nose and curly blonde hair that was so poofy it almost seemed to fill the cabin. It was only April, but her skin was already lightly tanned from the heat. She wore sneakers that seemed like they’d seen better days, a pair of faded jeans, and a ratty black t-shirt that was a bit too large for her, the baggy clothing leaving the top of her distractingly full breasts exposed.

Everything about her radiated softness, warmth, and kindness. If she’d claimed to be a hitchhiking angel, he would’ve been half tempted to believe her. As it was, his cock was painfully hard in his pants as he imagined just how soft, warm, and kind her cunt might be if he could manage it.

“Which way?” he asked, forcing himself to stop staring and directing his attention back to the road.

“Tennessee,” she said promptly as she settled into the passenger seat next to him. She was close enough that their arms rubbed against each other, but she seemed completely unbothered by the incidental contact. She smelled incredible, something light and flowery and feminine. “Gonna go and see my folks.” She waited, as if expecting him to ask another question, but he just pulled back onto the road and started driving.

"Has, um, has the traffic been good today?" she asked after a few seconds.

Wilson's only response was a noncommittal grunt. Maybe if he’d been younger and handsome and more charismatic, he would’ve tried talking his way into her pants. But he was a weathered old man in his late fifties who’d gone into trucking at least partially because it meant not having to talk to other people. If he was going to fuck her later - and he really, really wanted to fuck this cute little smiling slut - it wasn’t going to be consensual.

Luckily for him, that was just the way he liked it.

After a minute of awkward silence, Heather tried again. "The weather sure has been weird lately, huh? So much rain."

The silence stretched on much longer after that. Just when he began to hope she'd finally given up, she fidgeted and said, "I, uh, I used to be a nun."

That got his attention. He turned slightly to look at her, and she blushed at his gaze. "I... I ran away."

Wilson cleared his throat and turned back to the road. "Why?"

The simple question seemed to open a floodgate inside her. "N-not because I was bad or anything!" she hastened to assure him. "Or cause I stopped loving Jesus! I'm a good Christian girl, honest! I just.." She looked down at her hands. "I started thinking, one day. God made this big, beautiful planet for us to live on, and filled it with such grand, amazing things. He wouldn't want us to just spend our lives standing around telling him how great he is and how thankful we are. He'd want us to go out and experience that world for ourselves!"

"That’s what you're doing now?"

"Uh huh! Well..." she deflated slightly. "That's what I'm going to do. First I'm heading back home to surprise my folks. They're probably worried sick about me... I should've called them first, told them I was coming, but I know they're not going to approve of what I did, and I don't want to have an argument over the phone. Once I get there, I'll talk things over with them face to face, get them to understand."

From there, the conversation turned to her family. Wilson rarely responded with anything more than a grunt, but she didn't seem to notice or care. Over the next hour, she did her best to fill his ear with just about everything there was to know about his passenger. He learned that her father was a preacher at the local church, and how it had been his faith that had led her to joining the convent in the first place. He heard all about her mother the high school teacher, who had taught her about geography before she'd even learned to read, and her two younger sisters, who were either insufferable brats or adorable munchkins depending on the story, and so on.

The only bit that got him to actually speak up again was when she mentioned never having a boyfriend before. "Really?" he asked, genuinely surprised. "Never?"

She nodded guilelessly. "Pa starting making plans for me going to the convent before I even hit puberty, so I knew I was never getting married. There were a lot of boys and… a lot of folks who were unhappy about it, but I didn't see the point in starting a relationship with someone if there was no chance it would last. Besides, I wanted to stay pure, and I knew what sort of sinful urges those boys had in mind." With a mixture of pride and self consciousness, she declared "I have never even been kissed."

If he hadn’t already decided that he needed to fuck this girl bloody, that alone would’ve been enough to convince Wilson. In his experience, all women were shameless liars, but he found himself believing this one. That aura of gentle innocence felt too genuine to doubt.

He licked his lips at the thought of being the one to crush her spirit into the dirt. "I suppose that'll change soon enough," he commented, trying to hide the raw hunger in his voice. "Now that you're no longer a nun, I mean."

Her cheeks colored slightly. "I... I guess you're right. I never really thought about that. I'm not gonna run off and hook up with somebody! I'm still going to wait for marriage and all, but... yeah. I can get married now. I could have a whole family, even."

She was quiet for a long while after that, staring blankly out the window while possibilities ran through her head. Without her constant patter, the conversation dried up, and Wilson returned to driving in blessed silence.

About two hours after he'd first picked her up, he pulled into a gas station to fill up. He came back with a couple bottles of water, and offered her one. "Thirsty?"

Heather accepted it with a grateful smile, taking a long pull, and then they got back onto the road. Within a few minutes, her head was resting against the window, eyes half open. She let out a drowsy yawn, shifted a little, and closed her eyes. She started to snore.

Wilson gave her a couple more minutes, then pulled over. What he'd slipped into her water wasn't anything like roofies or GHB, just some prescription strength sleeping pills. They'd keep her docile for a while.

He started by slipping a hand underneath her shirt to get a feel of those large, bouncy breasts that had been calling to him for the last two hours. He squeezed them between his fingers, careful not to wake her up, enjoying their firmness. He would definitely have to play with these later. “I’m going to fuck you and hurt you in ways you can’t even imagine, you stupid church slut,” he promised.

But for now, he had to get her secured. He laid her across her seat, on her stomach, so that her head rested in his lap. There wasn't enough room for her legs to stick out, so he bent them at the knees, her feet pointing up at the roof of the truck. There were two upright armrests on her seat, and he lowered the right one down as far as it would go, just above her butt.

Wilson pulled her legs down further, until her heels touched the top of the armrest, then secured her feet that way with the help of some duct tape from the glove compartment. He lowered the left armrest and pulled her arms behind her back and above her, taping them around it in a similar fashion. She was effectively hogtied to the two armrests now, unable to move or fight back even after she woke up.

He reached into the glove compartment again, deep into the back, and pulled out a spreader gag, a leash, and a collar. He'd kept them as a memento from a truck stop whore a couple years back who had claimed to be into bondage and willing to do anything for three hundred bucks and a hit of cocaine. She wasn't the first whore he'd hired to make bold claims like that, but thanks to tying herself up, she'd become the first who hadn't been able to run away after realizing exactly what “anything” could entail.

The gag was a simple looking thing, like a retainer with heavy metal blocks on the side. Once in place, the blocks prevented the wearer from closing their mouth more than about an inch and a half. Enough to suck, not enough to bite. Heather moaned slightly as he got it into her mouth, but otherwise remained dead to the world.

The collar was made of black leather and clearly designed for a dog, but it fit a human bitch’s neck, mostly. Heather’s neck was wider around than the whore’s had been, and the collar was so snug around her throat that her breath rasped slightly. She wouldn’t be lowering her chin any time soon either, not with that thick leather in the way. Wilson secured the collar with a small padlock and then, after a moment’s consideration, rolled down the window and tossed the key out.

Finally, he clipped one end of the leash to his belt and the other to her collar before unzipping his pants to let his cock stand freely. It was already rock hard from anticipation, and he knew exactly what to do with it. Wilson watched his cock disappear between Heather’s pretty lips with great satisfaction, and began humping her mouth softly, sliding himself across her tongue.

As he grew more aroused, he started going deeper, banging against the entrance to her throat, and that turned out to be the last straw. Heather gagged loudly, then made a sleepy, confused noise, and the armrests ratted slightly as she tried unsuccessfully to get up. Her eyes fluttered open, half lidded and she stared blankly down at the shaft pumping in and out of her mouth.

Confusion changed to horror and outrage as the truth of her situation reached her. She squealed, straining against her bonds, but they held firm. Wilson chuckled and pushed her head deeper onto him, forcing his way into her gullet. "Welcome to the real world, fuckmeat," he told her, as her cries turned into wet gurgling. "You’re going to love it here."

Heather's eyes rolled up to look at him, wordlessly begging. "Enjoying your first kiss?" he asked her, grinning, and saw the pain in her eyes as she registered his words. Her throat was tight, and it fought him every step of the way, but he pushed her head down and kept the pressure up through every gurgling, gasping millimeter of progress. “You like that taste? I figured out years ago that it’s cheaper to sleep in the truck than waste money on a motel every night, but that don’t leave me a lot of opportunities for a shower. That’s at least four or five months worth of road crud and smegma you’re savoring right now.” The blonde slut retched slightly at that, but managed to keep her stomach down.

After several long and pleasant minutes, his entire cock was rooted in her mouth, her pathetic little tears bathing his pubes, but he wasn't satisfied yet. He hooked a finger in her mouth and tugged on her cheeks, spreading them so wide that her upper lip split and began to bleed freely. He nearly had to dislocate her jaw to do it, but in the end he managed to squeeze his balls in, her cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk around him. Then he pulled the leash tight, removing all remaining slack and locking him in her mouth.

The moment he let go of her, she tried to yank her head away from him, but thanks to her leash she barely twitched. She couldn’t even move enough to get his balls past her lips, let alone the cock that was halfway to her stomach. The soft flesh of her throat pulsed around his shaft as she gave up on escape and fought just to breathe, her flared nostrils managing only a thin trickle of oxygen.

Wilson turned the truck back on, and started to ease back into traffic. “I’m gonna give you a little piece of advice, fuckmeat,” he told her, “and this is probably the nicest thing I’ll ever do for you. Smart thing to do right now is start thinking of ways to make me cum like this. Massage my balls with your tongue, hum me a fucking song, whatever. I don’t care how you do it. But you’ve got about eleven hours like this before we stop for the night, and once we do, you won’t be sleeping until you’ve drained me dry. So if you’re a smart bitch, you’d do your damndest to get a headstart.”

Heather wasn’t a smart bitch. She just kept sobbing, like he’d expected, but it still took less than five minutes for the tightness of her throat and the warm wetness of her tongue pressed against his shaft to push him over the edge. “Drink it all down, you dirty slut,” he breathed as he clutched at her hair with one hand, emptying himself down her throat. “This is gonna be your breakfast, lunch, and dinner from now on. “ She made a small, sad whining sound through her nose as the semen slowed to a dribble. "Not enough? Need something to wash down that sticky jizz?" He relaxed his bladder, and heard her whine again as his piss flowed down her throat to join the sperm in her stomach. “Don’t know how long a bitch can survive on just piss and cum, but we’re gonna find out together, slut.”

Once he was done pissing, Wilson reached over to the glove compartment and fished out a few unmarked white pills, which he swallowed dry. They were some extra strength knock off Viagra shit that he’d hauled a couple years back, and nobody had noticed him swiping a couple boxes for himself. He knew from experience, and the misery of more than a few whores by now, that these little babies could keep him going all night long. Just the thing to make sure this slut didn’t get bored anytime soon.

Maybe it was the placebo effect, but he could already feel them working, and Heather whimpered as his cock began to swell up in her mouth again. Wilson patted her head with something almost like affection. God, he was going to love fucking her to death.

*

Eleven hours and change later.

“Well, now, don't you look tasty,” Wilson breathed as he looked at Heather. The young woman hung face up in the air, roughly parallel to the floor. She was suspended there by the handcuff chains that now bound her wrists and ankles, both chains running through hooks in the ceiling. Her curly hair was matted with sweat, and her eyes red from crying. She was more beautiful than ever.

They were in the sleeper cabin behind the seats, parked in an isolated area of the rest stop. Heather had put up a fight when he first pulled off the tape keeping her in her seat, but he'd had no trouble replacing them with the cuffs, then carrying her in.

“Please, sir,” she begged, her words still muffled by the spreader gag. “Please don't do this. If you let me go now, I won’t tell anybody about any of this, promise!” He was pretty sure she’d been spouting crap like that all day, but she’d been a little hard to understand with a cock wedged down her throat.

“That's up to you now,” he told her. “How many times did I shoot my load into your stomach today? Eight?” He’d spent the day pissing like a racehorse too, going through bottle after bottle of water. The little miserable noises she made every time he emptied his bladder down her throat were just too irresistible. “All I want tonight is to cum, let's say three more times. That could mean your sweet pussy, or we could... talk options. There some other way you'd like to make your new owner cum?” He had no intention of calling it a night without leaving her virgin cunt plastered with his seed, but it was fun to let her believe otherwise.

“Please sir, I know you don’t really want to do this!” Heather tried. “I know, I know we all have urges, but we all have love in our hearts too! You think you have to hurt me to be happy, sir, but you don’t, I promise! The Lord loves you no matter what you’ve done! It’s never too late to-“

Wilson cut her off with a sharp slap to the face. “Quit with the religious bullshit, fuckmeat. Already heard more than enough of that garbage this morning. And it sounds like I’m leaving three thick loads in your twat tonight.”

The blonde gulped. “Please, not that, sir! If, if you really think you have to, have to, I… I could use my mouth some more!” Her thighs were rubbing together, as though she was trying to guard her cunt from him. Or maybe she just needed to piss again; the bitch had wet herself a couple times already on the road. “Please! You, you liked that!”

“Out in the real world for less than a day, and already begging for the chance to gag on cock.” He stood directly in front of her, crotch by her head. She still had all her clothes on, but he'd stripped his own off after getting her hung up, and his dick was once again hard and throbbing. He laid the shaft against her upturned face. “Is that what you want? To suck some delicious sperm out of me?” She nodded her head quickly. “Then open wide, slut.” She tried, but the spreader gag that stretched her lips to the side also kept her from opening her mouth very far. He pushed into familiar territory, making her gag as he bumped the entrance to her throat again.

Despite spending all day stuffed down her throat, his cock had undergone very little cleaning. Her tongue hadn’t been moving, and neither had he. If anything, he was filthier than he had been this morning thanks to all the dried snot and sperm that had been added. “You had it easy on the road,” he warned her. “Could just relax and enjoy the ride. Time to show some fucking effort, bitch, starting with cleaning me up. Lick!” He barked out the last word and she jumped, then fearfully stuck her tongue out, the tip brushing against his cockhead. She shuddered in revulsion as her tastebuds registered what she was licking, but the slut must have really cared about keeping that cunt of hers intact, because she closed her eyes and gamely began lapping at him.

As she worked, spit began to pool at the roof of her mouth. She pursed her lips as best she could to try and stop it from spilling out, then squeaked like a mouse when he gave her a hard slap across the face that left her cheek red. “I told you to open wide, idiot,” he growled. “Never told you to stop.” Cringing, Heather meekly opened her mouth wider than ever and continued licking as drool began running down her face. “That’s right,” he told her. “A wet, messy blowjob from the sluttiest big titty nun around. And keep those fucking eyes open while you’re at it, unless you want to lose one.” He brought one of his jagged, dirty fingernails up to her left eye, holding it bare millimeters away in case the dumb slut thought he was bluffing. She stared at it in horror, eyelids twitching as she tried to not even blink.

His cock was so hard it hurt by now, and a part of him longed to shove it into her - cunt, throat, ass, any hole would do - but he resisted. He’d left plenty of whores fucked bloody and sobbing their eyes out in one place or another, but this slut was different. She was going to be his, and he was going to mold her into something special. “There's something you need to learn tonight,” he told her while he watched her reluctantly tongue wash him. “You aren’t a human anymore, and you sure as fuck ain’t a woman. You’re not even a goddamn animal. You're just a warm pile of flesh that feels good around my cock. The sooner you accept that, the easier all this will be. You understand, fuckmeat?”

When she nodded, he slapped her again, and spittle showered the floor. “Answer me when I fucking talk to you,” he snarled.

“Yehh err,” she mumbled, and he didn’t miss the fact that she kept her mouth stretched open while she talked. Yeah, this submissive little slut was just begging to be trained.

The next few minutes of cock cleaning were torture for them both. For him, it was a test of willpower. Her tongue felt so good on his cock, and she looked so sexy right now, tied up and weeping and humiliated, that he could have easily came right there on the spot. And for Heather… her face was a sticky mess of spit and precum by now, and plenty of it had pooled in her eye sockets, making her blink furiously as she struggled to obey his order not to close her eyes. His cock was growing cleaner by the second, and in exchange her lips and tongue had both grown slimy and discolored. He couldn’t even begin to guess at how foul all of it tasted, but from the way she kept gagging and retching even with his cock nowhere near her throat yet, it had to be incredible.

Eventually things reached a point where his cock was cleaner than her tongue, and her every lick spread gray unidentifiable smears across his shaft. That was as good as it was going to get. “Here goes, fuckmeat,” he told her. “It's finally time for you and my dick to get properly introduced.” He took hold of her ears and pulled. She was narrow, but he was rock hard and not taking no for an answer. She gave a choking cry as he sank back into her throat, into the warm passage that had spent all day teasing him.

Wilson stayed like that for a few seconds, then pulled back, head coming out with a pop and splattering fresh drool on Heather's face as she retched and sucked in air. He’d triggered her gag reflex on the road too, but since he hadn’t been moving then, it had only been an occasional torment. Not this time. He dipped into her throat again, and was rewarded with another retch. The third time he entered her throat, he pushed in deeper and stayed longer, while her hands and feet twitched in desperation. “Throw up for me, fuckmeat” he urged. “Show me all that innocent Christian saint shit is a lie, and inside you're just another filthy whore.” The fourth time in was deeper and longer still, and he saw her eyes cross as she struggled to keep her stomach down.

Heather held out until the seventh entry. Then she finally vomited, bile bubbling out around the corners of her mouth to run down her face. Most of it was runny, which was no surprise after the liquid diet she’d been on all day. He laughed, smearing it around her face with his shaft. “Disgusting puke face bitch. I knew it was all an act. You deserve everything I'm doing to you.” This time, he didn't stop until his entire cock was lodged in her throat. She gagged on him, slowly suffocating. He held her in place until she had nearly passed out, then pulled back only long enough to let her take a quick breath, and plunged back in.

After about three minutes of this, she threw up again, vomit spilling out around his dick when he pulled back. He pushed thick chunks of it back down her throat with his cock, the slimy liquid lubricating the passage. “You have to go to some dark corners of the internet to find whores pathetic enough to let themselves get puke fucked,” he told her. “And here you are, doing it for free just to protect your precious virgin cunt. You’ve got to be one of the most worthless sluts in the world by now, and we’re barely even getting started.”

Heather was trying to say something. Between the gag, his cock, and her distress, the words were almost complete gibberish, but the general meaning of it came through. She wanted him to know that she would be very, very happy to go back to licking his prick clean. She’d even suck him off with a smile if that’s what he wanted, or do her best to swallow him all on her own. She’d be a perfectly behaved throat slut if only he would show her the tiniest bit of mercy and stop trying to make her vomit. “Shut up, puke face,” he told her, chuckling. “Your breath reeks. You want this to end? Then lick and suck like the whore you were meant to be.”

The slut tried. She wasn’t very good at it - hell, she was fucking terrible at it. But she tried. Open mouthed and gagging, her tongue kept going after his cock like it was fucking magnetic, darting this way and that in its attempts to stay on him. And when she sucked, she went at it like game of tug-of-war, trying not to let him pop free of her. For about fifteen minutes, he repeatedly pummeled her gag reflex while she clumsily tried to give him the best throatfuck of his life. Bitch needed to learn that her throat was nothing but a fuckhole and a urinal, and he knew no better way to teach her.

By the time he came, she was hanging limply in her bonds, breath rasping, and she'd vomited six times, though the last two were barely more than dry heaves. “Don’t swallow until I say so,” he warned her just before ejaculating into her mouth. “Not a single fucking drop.” His jizz painted her tongue, the insides of her cheeks, her teeth, splattering her entire mouth in creamy white before the last of it dribbled out.

“Roll it around in your mouth,” he ordered. “You didn’t get to taste my other loads, so you need to really savor this one. Does it taste good?” She nodded. Wilson sighed, then reared back and punched her square in the nose. He didn’t break it, but blood was leaking from her upturned nostrils as she stared at him in wide eyed terror. “Don’t you ever fucking lie to me, slut,” he warned. “Does it taste good?” She shook her head quickly. “Thought so. It’s disgusting, isn’t it? Sticky and slimy and foul?” She nodded reluctantly.

“Well, guess what, slut?” he told her. “That filthy white goo is the most important substance in the world to you from now on. You’re gonna guzzle it every day for the rest of your short and miserable life, and most days it’s going to be the closest you get to solid food. The entire reason you’re here with me is because I think you’re going to be fantastic at making more, and we’re going to spend every day proving me right. I’m going to hurt you, I’m going to humiliate you, I’m going to utterly fucking ruin you, you pretty little fucktoy of a nun, and I don’t want you to ever forget that all of it is just for this. Just for the sake of getting more jizz to spurt out of my cock. And when you’re too used up to be fun anymore, when you’re no longer sexy enough to make me want to drown you in cum…” He drew a finger across his throat. “I’ll just chuck your cumsoaked corpse into a dumpster somewhere, and I’ll be a thousand miles down the road before anyone notices you’re there, if they ever do. Understand?”

Heather was sobbing at this point, big fat lovely tears rolling down her eyes at the knowledge of her impending future, but she wasn’t too far gone to forget her manners. “Yehh err,” she burbled around her mouthful of dick snot.

“Good,” he said. “Now swallow your dinner, whore.” She did.

“That's one,” he told her. “Now you get to make a choice. I can fuck that throat again, and see if there's any more puke hiding in you, or we can take that shirt of yours off and have some fun with your titties instead.”

“Please, not that again, sir,” she begged. “Please, please, you'll kill me...”

“So you'd rather I fuck your titties?” She nodded.

Wilson took hold of her t-shirt and easily ripped a hole in the middle, exposing her chest to the open air. He'd gotten to feel them up earlier, but this was his first time getting to really see them. They were ripe and full, with dark nipples. They would be fun to hurt. He groped them, feeling the smooth flesh contort beneath his fingers. “Calling yourself a nun while you walked around with these huge slutty fun bags beneath your clothes! Let me show you how these are meant to be treated.”

He took a pair of zip ties out, and wrapped one around the base of each breast. Heather groaned as he began to tighten them, pushing her tit meat out. He didn't let up until they were as tight as he could manage and her breasts were turning dark red. He touched one experimentally, and even that light contact made her wince.

Wilson grinned and began slapping her breasts playfully, batting them back and forth. “Now they've got some real perk. See how the bondage separates and pulls them away from each other? Most women, their chest is too small. You do this to it, and their tits end up too far away to fuck. But not you, fuckmeat.” He confirmed for himself, pushing her breasts together with his hands. “You've got titties that were meant to be abused. Now to warm them up.”

Heather started to thrash the moment she saw the riding crop in his hand. When it came down hard on her left breast, it left behind a bright welt, and that made her really start moving. The second strike hit her right nipple square on, and she let out a sound that didn't even seem human.

“You want more proof that this is where you were meant to end up? If God didn't put you on this planet to suffer, fuckmeat, why'd he make your titties so much fun to hurt? Answer me that, huh?” Heather just wailed through the gag, in too much pain to form words.

Wilson struck again and again, raining blows across her jiggling breasts. “Don’t forget, slut!” he said happily, having to shout over her constant cries. “All this pain is just to encourage my balls to cook up more slimy spunk! I want you to remember that when the time comes! When I shoot my load all over these fat titties, I want you to look at it and think real hard about how the greasy spunk running down your skin is all the reason I need to treat you like a punching bag!”

By the time he stopped, there wasn't an inch of unmarked skin left on her chest. Welts lay over welts, some bleeding slightly, all of them looking swollen and ugly. “Now that's a pair of proper fuckmeat titties! Only one more step before they're ready to fuck.” He pinched her left nipple between his fingers, then dug into his pocket with his other hand and produced an unfolded paper clip. Heather shrieked as he jabbed it into the nipple. Droplets of blood leaked out as he dug in to the tender flesh.

Once the clip had gone all the way through, he pulled it out, eliciting a deep moan, and repeated the process on the other breast. Then, by pressing both breasts close together, he managed to slide the strip of metal through both pierced nipples, and bend the ends to seal it in. Heather's breasts, now a patchwork of purples and blacks and reds, were locked in place, pushed grotesquely close together.

His cock more than stiff at the sight, he worked it into the tight valley of swollen, bruised flesh. Heather groaned at the contact, then howled as he took two big handfuls and crushed them in his grip. Her body jolted up and down as he swung her back and forth by the tits, scrubbing her tortured breasts against his shaft. The fucktunnel he'd created was so tight, it felt like it would rip his dick off. He could feel every last welt as he pushed his way in and out, the heat of her making his blood boil.

“They teach you about titfucking back in the convent?” he mocked. “This ain’t even sex anymore, not really. I’m just using these pierced fun bags to masturbate. So what does that say about you, huh? What does it say that you’ve got a body that’s so fucking slutty that it makes a great masturbation aid? Because if you ask me, it say that you’re exactly where you belong, slut. God has a plan, and your role in it is to be a sexy little bitch who gets fucked to death in a stranger’s truck.”

All too soon, he reached his limit, and Wilson pulled back to spray his cum all over her bloody and bruised tits. He savored the look in her eyes as she stared at her spunk spattered breasts, the way fresh tears welled up. “That’s right, slut. You did it all for that.”

He left the zip ties and the paper clip on her chest while he took a quick break to drink some water and let his dick recover. He had no intention of ever taking either off, actually. Why bother? He knew they would probably cause some kind of permanent damage or something, and he also knew that he couldn’t care less. She looked sexy zip tied and paper clipped, and that was all that mattered.

The sound of her soft sobs as she hung in the air had him stiff again by the time he was done with the water. “Does the fuckmeat want me to play with her titties some more?” Wilson asked, mock sweetly.

Heather seemed barely conscious by now, her voice raw from screaming. “...please... no...”

“If I'm not fucking your throat, and I'm not fucking your tits, that leaves virgin cunt, or virgin asshole. Which will it be, fuckmeat?”

She was silent for a long time. Impatient, he slapped her breasts again, this time getting only a quiet pained exhale. “I can see you're dead set on saving yourself for marriage,” he said eventually. “That's fine by me. Let's see how far we can get your anus to stretch instead.”

Heather shook in her bonds. “...no... please... not there...”

“Gotta save that virginity, right? While I'm stuffing my dick up your shitter, you can console yourself by thinking about how proud God must be of you!”

“...no... you can't... just... please... my vagina...”

Wilson gave her a little push, making her swing. “Need you to speak up, fuckmeat. What hole do you want your owner’s dick in? Be quick, or I'll decide for you.”

“...Please... put in... my vagina...”

“Wrong. Only women get vaginas. What fuckmeats have between their legs is a cunt. Try again.”

“In... in my... cunt... please...”

“Your virgin cunt?”

“Yes... my... my virgin...cunt...”

“Tell me that having my cock in you is more important than your faith.”

“Your... your cock... in my vir... virgin cunt... is more... important than... than...” Heather had already been crying, but now the big sloppy tears were pouring out. “Than my faith.”

Wilson could see that his prize was completely exhausted by now. Despite her reluctance, given how tired she was and how much pain she'd already experienced, a bit of vaginal penetration would barely faze her at this point, even as a virgin. He'd have to do something about that.

Rather than mess about trying to pull off her jeans, Wilson simply took a knife and cut them off her, leaving her in just her panties, and then completely naked. He began to play with her slit, running his fingers over the folds, pulling them apart to examine her insides. She was sweaty after all the exercise, but otherwise clean and healthy. Heather moaned at the contact, too tired for any other reaction.

He looked down between her raised legs, admiring her prone form. Her face was now a dried mask of body fluids. Her clipped and zipped tits were turning purple beneath all the cum, and streaks of blood lay all across her stomach. She looked nearly comatose.

The first staple changed that.

Heather bucked in pain, not understanding what had happened to her yet. The movement threatened to rip the staple out, so Wilson quickly added five more, causing more jolts throughout her whole body. It took several minutes for her to tire herself out and lay back in her bonds, where she saw the mutilation for the first time.

“Always been a problem,” he mused conversationally. “The girl's hands are out of commission, and my hands are busy with the tits, so who's gonna hold the pussy open for me?” Her left external labia was now splayed out, stretched as wide as it could go, and pinned to her inner thigh by six thick staples. Wilson waved the staple gun at her. “Halfway there!”

The other six staples caused similar, though smaller, reactions, her body spasming and shaking. He didn't wait for her to calm down after the last one, just grabbed hold of her fat bruised tits for leverage and pushed in.

His hard cock smashed through her hymen easily, and he bottomed out, feeling her cervix against his head. Heather's eyes were wide and unseeing, her mind unable to process anything but pain. He pounded her furiously, tearing into her virgin hole with a vengeance. A dumb bitch this sexy should’ve been getting fucked silly for years now. All he could do was make up for lost time.

“This is where you belong, fuckmeat,” he told her. “On my shaft. Spread open and fucked hard.”

“I wanna go hooooome,” she pleaded, distress giving her energy. “Please! I wanna go hoooooome!”

“You are home, fuckmeat. Wherever my dick is, that's home, from now until the day I toss your corpse away.”

The feeling of her warm, bloody tits between his fingers and her hot tunnel wrapped around him was just too much. He wanted to hold out longer, but her cunt was all but sucking the semen right out of him.

“Almost there, fuckmeat! Almost ready to fill your virgin pussy with sperm.”

“Noooo,” she begged. “Not in me! Please, sir, anything but that!”

“Mmm, I can't wait until you're a few months along, with that tight, swollen belly, and nice saggy tits full of milk! Gonna keep you preggers all the time, one after the other! Don't you fret about all them babies either. They’re even easier to toss into a dumpster than you.”

“Nooooo,” she wailed. “Please, Lord! Please save me!”

The only response was Wilson's satisfied groan as he began to cum inside her. Every spurt felt better than the last, and he shuddered with pleasure imagining her womb drenched in his seed. Heather was shuddering too, the stupid bitch probably imagining the same thing.

He pumped her until his dick had gone completely soft, and then pulled out with a quiet plop. “One last choice to make, fuckmeat. I can leave you like this overnight, or I can take out that gag and you can lick the mess off my dick. What's it gonna be?”

Heather didn't bother finding the words to respond. She just opened her mouth wide, tongue hanging out. Wilson grunted, pleased, and pulled the gag out. Her tongue was tired and slow, but still wet and warm as she obediently licked the cum, blood, and vomit off of him.

True to his word, he freed her from the suspension afterward. He left the manacles on her ankles and wrists as he carried her over to a large empty cooler and set her inside. “You sleep tight now,” he said. “I'll wake you in the morning when it's time for more road head.”

“S-sir…?” she mumbled as he began to close the lid.

“What?” he asked, genuinely curious about what the thoroughly fucked slut had to say.

Heather swallowed, her voice sticky and hoarse. “J-Jesus still loves you, sir… it, it’s not too late…”

Wilson stared at her in disbelief for several silent seconds. Then he burst out laughing before closing the cooler and locking her in for the night.