The torment of Casey

I

“This gathering shall now come to order,” the pastor roared into the microphone as stragglers hurried to fill the remaining seats in the gym. The pastor, a stern, bespectacled, gray-haired 45 year old sat behind a table, flanked by four church elders, two on each side.

“Let the Lord’s witnesses and record-keeper note the date and time. It is Saturday, September 7th and the time is 1400 hours,” he continued, as the gathering fell silent.

He cleared his throat, drank some water, and continued, “we are here to discuss the case of Casey Ann Rogers, 26, mother of 3, church daycare worker and part-time Sunday School teacher. Mrs. Rogers has been a member of this community since birth and is married to Mr. Thomas Rogers III.

“Mrs. Rogers is charged with violating the laws of nature and most importantly, the laws of God, along with the covenant of marriage. Witnesses have come forth with evidence of the following: sodomy, fornication, lesbianism, sado-masochism, masturbation, paganism and other unmentionable sins.”

Gasps broke out with the mention of each “sin”. Casey, for her part, sat quietly in the front row, alone in the middle of the aisle. Her husband and family sat in the back in stone cold silence. Her children were not in attendance.

Casey was dressed in a black pant suit and white blouse. Her long brown hair was neatly tied and a hairband kept stay locks from falling on her face. She sat with her hands folded on her lap.

The pastor, who she despised, continued, “Mrs. Rogers joined a group called “I love sodomy”, under the guise of a woman’s Bible study group. This group met twice a week on the edge of the county, where influences from other counties could not be avoided. At these meetings, members, and I would be remiss if I failed to mention that Mrs. Rogers isn’t the only member of our God-fearing community that was a member of this heinous organization, met to participate in unnatural activities.

“Ours is a loving community. We welcome everyone. We live by God’s rules. We work hard, pay our bills and yes, our taxes, and we follow out local ordnances, that you have voted to enact. Our streets are safe, our schools are top-notch, our residents are moral and loving and caring. Our youth is sheltered from the sins and ills of the world. They dress fashionably but are still wholesome. Sexual relations are limited to procreation by married couples only. There is no drinking, dancing or adultery here, and definitely none of the activities that Mrs. Rogers and her ilk have indulged.

“It has shocked the community that an upstanding member, with a seemingly happy and healthy life, would risk it all for some ungodly pleasure. That is why this commission has been formed, to bring Mrs. Rogers to account and hand down an appropriate punishment, one that will come from God above.

“At this point, I would ask the accused to rise and come to the microphone so that she can face the gathering and this commission.”

Casey got up and slowly walked to the microphone. Her side was to the audience. She was facing the commission from the edge of the table.

The pastor continued, “Mrs. Rogers, how do you plead to these charges?”

“I do not recognize the jurisdiction of this commission,” Casey said confidently, though her hands were trembling.

A loud roar emanated from the audience. Shouts of “whore”, “sodomite”, “may you burn in hell” were heard. The pastor slammed his hand down on his table and thundered into his microphone, “Silence! Or I will clear this room!” He was shaking. The church elder on his left patted him on his shoulder, asking him to relax. He sat down and addressed Casey.

“May I remind you that you answer to no one but God and this is God’s jurisdiction, God’s commission!”

“I have rights under the Constitution of this great nation. According to the laws of the country and the state, what I have done may be inexcusable from a personal, family standpoint, but is legal and you have no right to charge me. This matter can be resolved within my family.”

“The sheer gall of this woman,” the pastor sneered, “to think that some Constitution that’s been rewritten by sodomite secular activist judges applies to this Godly community. So if you went to civil court to defend yourself against a divorce petition, do you think the judge there will grant you custody of your children? Do you think he will let them visit you unsupervised? You are corrupt, you are a pervert, you have a filthy mind and a filthy body.”

“You cannot deny me the right to be a mother!”

“Oh yes we can. You are too young to remember Mrs. Clayborn. Her sins weren’t half as bad as yours but she was excommunicated by this church and her husband kicked her out of the house. She fled to California and became a prostitute. You might as well do the same. I know they’ll like your kind out there.

“Your marriage and your children’s births are not recorded anywhere outside this county. In fact, the State has no records. We can excommunicate you right now and you’ll have no rights whatsoever.”

Casey was silent. She fought back tears. She composed herself and spoke, her voice choking, “I love my children. I am in a loveless, dull marriage, like many women in this community. You and your ilk do everything to make our lives miserable. I sought escape but in no way did I put my children at risk. All I ask this sham commission is the right to remain a mother even if my rights as a wife are taken away.”

“So do you plead guilty?” the pastor asked, “for if you do, we can resolve this quickly.”

“I am guilty of nothing,” Casey was defiant.

“Let the Lord note that the accused has failed to plead guilty,” the pastor thundered. Murmurs of displeasure rippled through the gathering.

“Are there any character witnesses?” the pastor asked the gathering. No one came forward. “Very well, the accused had spoken for herself. My colleagues on this commission will now pass their verdicts to me. Please face the audience, Mrs. Rogers.”

Casey turned and looked at the audience. Nobody looked at her. The church elders scribbled on their forms and passed them to the pastor who read through them, writing on his own form. Then he spoke.

“This commission, and the audience appreciates the speed at which this case is being resolved. Had Mrs. Rogers pleaded guilty as charged, her parenting rights would have been restored after seven days of penance and counseling. Marital counseling would have followed. Since she chose not to plead guilty in defiance of God’s will, she will serve two hundred days of penance following which her case will be reviewed. If during this time, her husband chooses to sever the marital bond, his wish will be granted. However, her rights as a mother cannot be reviewed until after she has served her penance.

“This is the verdict of the Lord’s commission, on this day. Do you accept this verdict?”

Casey stepped back to the microphone, “Yes I do.”

“Very well. The accused will now be led to the Floor of Shame, where she will begin her penance. She will obey the rules or risk losing everything. Adjourned.”

Casey walked back to her chair and picked up her back. Two women approached her. One was her next door neighbor, a pleasant woman in her 50s. But now she was scowling. The other was a lady who worked in the supermarket. She was also very active in the church. “Please come with us,” she said to Casey.

As the gathering dispersed, the pastor shared a joke with two of the church elders. Casey followed the two ladies out of the side door and down a flight of stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, her neighbor punched in a code and a door buzzed open. She turned on a light and they proceeded to a room. She turned the light on in that room and took a seat behind a table. The supermarket lady sat next to her. Casey stood on the other side.

“Please kneel. Place your bag on the table,” the neighbor, whose name was Rose, said. Casey complied. She knelt on the hard floor.

“You are here by choice.  You know what will happen if you fail to serve your time. Here are rules are clear. In fact, there is only one rule, do as you are told,” the supermarket lady said.

“You are not the first to enter the Floor of Shame, and you won’t be the last. Though each time we wish that the latest sinner is the last one to sin in this community.

“There is no guidebook. The rules of penance have been passed down for generation, and were written by God. Every time you feel the need to lash out or question, think about why you are here and what awaits you after two hundred days.

“Penance will help cleanse your body, your mind, your soul. All impure thoughts and feelings will be banished from your mind. You will emerge clean and God-fearing, all will be forgiven but not forgotten. Here you forfeit any rights you think you had up above. You will have no self-respect, no privacy, no dignity, like you have any to begin with. Any questions before we start?”

Casey was silent for a moment. Then she asked, “is the pastor going to fuck me daily?”

The women said nothing. Casey asked again, “is he going to fuck me up the ass? Does he practice what he preaches? I doubt it!” Her voice rose and quivered.

Her neighbor leaned forward and said, “young lady, with that attitude, you will make life worse than hell over here. So zip it and if the pastor pays you a visit, it will be to help rehabilitate you. So shut up and do as we say!”

“Fine,” Casey snickered, “I bet you’re aching for it too.”

“May I warn you that this sort of recalcitrance may cause us to reconsider your punishment and have you banished from the community,” the supermarket lady said, “you remember what’s at stake?”

Casey was silent. Then she said, “fine, fuck me.”

“Very well,” the neighbor lady said, “Casey, we will lead you to your room where we will process you and inform you of your daily routine. Please follow us. Leave your bag here. You will get it back when you are done.”

Casey got up, dusted off her knees and walked in between the women. They came to a door down the corridor. The neighbor lady wrote on the whiteboard, “Casey Rogers, 200 days, start 9/7.”

They walked into the room. It was six feet by six feet, with a twelve feet high ceiling with a fluorescent dome light. There were no windows, just two vents near the ceiling.

A wooden plank was fixed to the floor near the left wall. It was six feet long and 18 inches wide. A Bible lay on it. Next to the plank was a stool. There was a small towel with a bar of soap, a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste on it. On the floor under the stool was a thick cotton pad with a cloth belt. Next to the stool was a plastic pitcher of water and a loaf of bread on top.  Over by the right wall was a low toilet bowl, about six feet high with no seat. A tap jutted from the wall and opened over the back of the bowl. The bowl was spotless. Casey shook her head.

The neighbor lady spoke, “Casey, this is your penance room. You will not leave this space for two hundred days. If you run out of supplies you will receive more. You will be watched constantly. The light will burn all the time.

“Penance requires that you be uncomfortable and embarrassed and humiliated. I ask that you hand over all your clothes now.”

Casey removed her jacket and threw it to the floor. She removed her blouse, her bra, her shoes, her pants, her panties, in that order. She stood before the ladies, naked. She removed her earrings and her necklace, as well as her wedding ring. She had a very nice, tight body. She was 5’6”, 120 pounds with firm breasts and a nice hairy pussy. Her body was otherwise shaved.

The supermarket lady spoke, “you are to read the Bible during your waking hours. You are to wash daily. Your water pitcher will be refilled every morning. You will get a fresh loaf of bread every other day. You will also receive one banana, one raw carrot and a hard-boiled egg each day, starting tomorrow.”

With those words, the women stepped out of the door and locked the door.

“I love sodomy,” Casey yelled out.

II

“I love sodomy, I love sodomy, I love sodomy,” Casey repeated over and over again as she leaned over the sofa while the masked man moved inside her anus. His size was perfect for her tight backside. He went deep enough, stretched her just the right amount and left a lasting impression on her. She reached down and fingered her throbbing wet pussy, sending her fingers deep inside her hairy snatch, letting the sticky juices coat them while the man kept moving inside her.

She eyed someone who was watching her. She loved to suck his dick which was small and flaccid at the moment. Casey tried to focus on the present as her orgasm was building. She buried her face into the couch as the man let out a scream, filling the condom while Casey moaned into the cushion and then lifted her head and let everyone in the room know that she had cum explosively. Cheers of “Yeah Casey!”, “Yeah Jesus chick” went out.

Casey was quite the showgirl. The star of every meeting. It was a miracle that she could walk straight after each meeting.

“Alright, who’s next?” she said with a giggle. She got up, licking her sticky fingers, walking over to her next target and kneeling before him as he sat on a chair.

“I love sodomy,” she said with a smile and began licking his flaccid cock.

“He sure does,” the man said, adjusting his mask and adjusting his posture as his cock grew in Casey’s mouth.

III

“I will say this one more time. Repeat after me, I hate sodomy,” the pastor said, standing over Casey, wearing a thick black robe.

“I love sodomy,” muttered Casey, her voice breaking. The pastor turned a wheel and the screws tightened. Casey screamed, “please stop!”

“I will if you say what I’ve been asking you to say for the past two hours,” the pastor said.

Streams of sweat ran across Casey’s forehead, getting into her eyes. Tears streamed down her face. She was defiant.

She lay on the thin metal table, her arms stretched above her and chained to a pulley. Her ankles the same. Her body was stretched out, not to any breaking point but just enough to make her very uncomfortable. You could count her ribs. Her chest fell rapidly from her heavy breathing. There were clamps on her nipples that tightened when the pastor turned the last wheel.

The pastor relaxed the pulleys and suddenly tightened them again, stretching Casey, who screamed as loud as she could.

“You love sodomy! I love sodomy!” she cried out, “I fucking hate you. You hypocrite!”

“Move her to the hole,” he ordered the neighbor lady who was watching the proceedings, “three days!”

Casey was removed from the table. She fell to the floor, on her knees, rubbing her wrists and ankles, her nipples were hard and tender. The neighbor lady pulled her up and the supermarket lady came in to help. The two dragged her along the floor, her knees rubbing against the floor and threw her into a crawl space, no bigger than three feet wide and long and maybe four feet high. They slammed the metal door, leaving Casey in darkness and misery.

Finding a hole on one side of the floor, Casey relieved herself and then curled up on the floor and sobbed.

Some time later a slot opened under the door and a bowl was pushed in. There was a slice of break soaking in water. Casey wasn’t hungry but she knew she had to eat. She planned to be as defiant as possible and needed all the strength she could get. She gobbled the soggy bread and drank the water, licking every last drop. She knew the pastor would be involved. The pervert. She couldn’t believe they had a medieval torture room in the church basement. She had just been on the rack. What else were they hiding behind those curtains, she wondered. She wouldn’t mind finding out.

For now she was in a tiny dark space, naked and sweaty and dirty by her recent standards. At least her room had running water.

She managed to fall asleep only to be woken up by a hose of cold water. She struggled to catch her breath as the water hit her face and body and pussy. The water gushed out of the cell and drained in the corridor. They left her soaking wet.

IV

“I love sodomy,” she cried as she mounted the dildo and moved up and down as the others watched in glee. The dildo began to glisten in the dimly lit room as Casey let a trail of her juices on it. She held the armrests of the chair as she crouched over the dildo. She was in heaven. On cloud nine. With many witnesses to attest to that fact.

V

“I love sodomy,” she cried, gasping for air, coughing as water gushed out of her mouth and her nose. She blinked her eyes to get the water out. “I love,” she began as he flipped her chair and her head went back into the vat of water. She held her breath, unable to flail her bound arms and legs. After what seemed like ages during which she was convinced she would drown, Casey was brought back out. She coughed uncontrollably.

“I love sodomy and so do you,” she blurted out. The pastor left the room. Casey coughed up more water, her hair was dripping wet, her whole body was shaking, she was gasping for air. She wasn’t close to giving in. She would hold out for as long as possible, call their bluff every step of the way.

The two women, who were always there, who never seemed to have anything better to do with their lives, came around the curtain to unshackle Casey from the chair and escort her back to her room.

Twelve days down, one hundred and eighty-eight days to go. Casey grabbed her towel and dried her hair and face. She was hungry so she decided to eat the carrot and banana that had been sitting on the floor since morning. After that she squatted over the bowl, relieved herself, washed at the tap and returned to her plank to lie down. She closed her eyes.

VI

“What do you think you’re doing?” her husband screamed, sitting up in the bed and switching on the light.

“Quiet, you’ll wake the kids,” Casey said, “I thought we could…”

“We could what? Be sinful? Be sodomites?” her husband interrupted, climbing out of the bed and dropping to his knees to summon the heavens.

“Oh please, I bet you’d like to know what it’s like to get your cock sucked,” said Casey, getting out of bed herself. He was already in deep prayer. “Loser,” she muttered, going into the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

She looked at herself in the small shaving mirror. There were no full-length mirrors in this county. You must fear your naked body. You must never stare at it. What a crock, Casey though to herself as she lifted her ankle-length nightgown and sat on the toilet. You must sleep with your loins protected. Code for wear your undies to bed. Not a chance for Casey who loved breaking the rules. She hunched over and smiled. Her nightgown had long sleeves and was buttoned to the neck. It was made of thick cotton, kept her warm at night but it was the perfect nightgown for a prude, but a prude she was not.

The piss whirred out of her and hit the water below in a steady stream. When she finished she grabbed a few squares of toilet paper and dried herself, allowing herself a few extra swipes. It always felt good. She dropped the paper into the bowl and rubbed herself with her fingers. Meanwhile, in the bedroom, her husband was praying out loud. Moron, she muttered. She decided to cut short her pleasure and go to bed. She got up, flushed and washed her hands and returned to the bedroom.

“You should pray too,” her husband said, “getting off the floor.”

“I’m sleepy,” Casey smirked. I’m calling her tomorrow, she thought to herself. “I’m joining a Bible Study group tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll approve.” He didn’t say a word, instead he turned out the light.

VII

“I love sodomy,” muttered Casey, glaring at the pastor who drummed his fingers on the table.

“You have read about the Spanish Inquisition, right?” he asked her, “the sins, the punishments. Too bad we can’t return to those days. We’d have you and your fellow sodomites burned at the stake. Or maybe crucified. You’d die for your sins. That would be the only way to save you and this community.”

“Do what you have to. You know you are weak. A hypocrite. You’ll give in before I do. You’ll be begging for a blow job before I repent anything,” Casey said in complete defiance, her predicament notwithstanding.

“Pastor, you must,” the neighbor lady began before he raised his hand to stop her.

“Hush, you must not,” he said politely to her.

Casey was in pain. Her upper arms were going numb, her shoulders were very sore. Her arms had been tied at the wrists, pulled behind her and tied to a pulley that was attached to the ceiling. The pastor had turned the pulley enough to tighten her arms. She was hunched forwards, her legs spread three feet wide and held in place by a solid steel spreader bar that was locked to the floor. She had been this way for close to an hour.

“If you repent now we will commute your sentence and send you to recovery for a few days before returning you to the surface,” the pastor said, anxious to cut a deal.

“And end your fun? Come on,” Casey said, “you want to prolong this and so do these hags.”

“You will not,” began the supermarket lady before the neighbor lady grabbed her arm.

“Yeah, stifle her,” said Casey, “tell me, ladies, how often do you slide under the covers to suck your husband’s cock? And how often do you roll onto your bellies to let them enter you form behind or in the behind?”

“QUIET!” screamed the pastor, getting up and walking over to Casey. He slapped her across each cheek. Casey felt her face burn up. Tears welled up in her eyes. She tasted blood in her mouth. “You continue this behavior and we’ll make the Inquisition look like a summer picnic!” he continued to scream, “we’ll make sure you leave here with no sense of who you are. Maybe we’ll just sent you to the psych hospital, say you’re insane. You know what they do to insane people there? Those horny burly Pagan guards. You’ll get your fill there. Maybe I should make a few calls. A diagnosis will be easy to get.” He backed away and sat down again.

“Now, Casey, my dear, please don’t waste any more of our time. We never intended to keep you here for two hundred days. People break within a week. I was hoping to reintroduce you to the community at last week’s service,” the pastor said with an air of resignation in his voice.

Casey took a deep breath, “I don’t think so. I love sodomy and so do you.” She smiled even though tears ran down her face.

The pastor turned the handle and the binds tightened further. Casey screamed out in pain. The women looked away as Casey’s arms were pulled further behind her. “REPENT!” the pastor screamed as the handle locked. “REPENT!”

Casey was panting, “Ahhhh, no.” She drew a deep breath, the pain was unbearable. “I love sodomy and so do you,” her voice trailed off as she was close to passing out. The pastor released the handle and the pulley released her arms which flopped down to her back.

“Let’s give her some time to think about it and start over,” he said to the women.

The neighbor lady untied Casey’s arms while the other woman asked the pastor, “where to now?”

The pastor thought for a moment. “Put her in the dry box. Feed her the same.”

The dry box was another name for a room half the size as Casey’s current room but with zero amenities, except for a light. A deep hole served as a toilet. Daily rations constituted of the same amount of water and food as before along with four squares of toilet paper with a wad of toothpaste on one corner. If that wasn’t enough there was the banana peel. Any water brought to her was to be consumed immediately. And every other day, she was given a wet washcloth to wipe her hands and face so she could kneel and read a long passage from the Bible. Casey didn’t mind doing that.

Casey remained there until her period arrived, which was eight days into her dry box stint. Then they returned her to her room and shunned her for five days. She welcomed the running water, the ability to wash herself. But once her period was done she was returned to the dry box for two more weeks. The pastor never paid a visit during this 27 day stretch.

VIII

Casey’s confinement had changed her body. Her underarms had sprouted lots of hair, and a light coating of brown hair covered her legs. Her feet were caked with dirt. Her body was dusty in general. Whenever possible she wouldn’t swallow all the water they made her drink so that when they would leave she would spit the water into her cupped hand and rub it on her pussy, washing off the filth. She was more determined than ever to hold firm. After all, it couldn’t be giving them much pleasure to keep her like this. Plus, the pastor would need his fill soon.

On the morning of the 28th day, after Casey had had a chance to eat and relieve herself, she was taken from the dry box to the interrogation room. Awaiting her was a polished wooden plank, narrow side up, about one inch wide, that was placed on two wooden crosses that were resting on the ground. Casey was made to climb on top of the plank, her feet barely touched the ground as the narrow plank pressed against her pussy. She was made to lie back and her hands were cuffed below the plank. A belt was used to secure her forehead to the plank. The plank pressed hard against the back of her head. Her back was arched so that her feet dangled from the sides. Her feet were folded at the knees and secured at the ankles to two rings that were fixed to the underside of the plank. This ensured that the plank rested in Casey’s butt crack and her slightest movement caused the wood to rub against her pussy. This was a very uncomfortable position to be in. Casey was panting. Her heart was pounding. Beads of sweat formed on her face. Her arms had been stretched out so that they were secured to the cross behind her head.

After what seemed like ages, the pastor entered.

“I see they’ve brought you out from the squalor of the dry box. A filthy mind deserves a filthy body,” he quipped.

“I love sodomy. Long time, no see,” Casey said with contempt dripping from her voice.

“What a shame,” the pastor said, pulling up a chair and sitting next to Casey, whose every squirm sent her juices rushing between her legs. “I see this might be a more pleasurable setting for you,” he continued.

“Now, we have work to do. The deal still stands. Repent now and this will all come to a close. Resist and we will make life harder for you. If you think that it can’t get any worse, you are badly mistaken.

“Since you love to pleasure body parts meant for other unpleasurable purposes, it’s time we let you get a sense of how dirty those body parts can be. You like someone’s tongue to caress the parts that deliver waster. You like to use your tongue for the same purpose. Your fingers too. You like to have objects inserted into you. You prefer the manhood to penetrate your waste orifice. I could go on.

“Nothing more than bread and water, for days on end. A tiny, dark box into which you will be curled up. No room to stand or lie down. A small hole to relieve yourself, or maybe not. You’ll just have to co-exist with your waste. Let it soak the floor, let it pile up. Let the stench burn your nostrils. Let your skin be covered in filth. Let you turn into something worse than an animal, because that’s what you are, a whore, a sodomite, the worst of the lot. Maybe we can put you on display as an example.

“Now, be a good girl and repeat after me. I, Casey Ann Rogers, am a sinner and hereby repent with all my heart and beg the Lord for forgiveness.”

Casey was silent for a moment. Then she spoke softly.

“I, Casey Ann Rogers, am not a sinner and hereby declare that I love sodomy and so does the pastor.”

The pastor got up and left.

The next time Casey heard his voice was when he opened the slot to her box, letting in the dim glow of the light. He said in a firm voice, “today is day one hundred of your penance. Do you wish to repent now?”

“I love sodomy,” said Casey with a sneer, picking up a hard ball of poop and flinging it at him.

He closed the slot, turning the lock. He got up and turned to the neighbor lady. “How much are you feeding her?”

“Three slices of bread and a jug of water each day,” she replied.

“Make that two slices,” he ordered her, storming off.

In reality, the women were being far kinder to Casey than they had been instructed to. They continued giving her a banana and a carrot. And even the four squares of toilet paper and a dollop of toothpaste. They couldn’t get her out of the box as the pastor had the key but they would sometimes slip her a wet washcloth. They even helped her clean the floor of the box.

Until the pastor found out and relieved them of the responsibilities.

IX

When the pastor opened the door fourteen days later, on day 114 of her penance, Casey was sitting against one corner, her knees pulled to her chest, her arms tightly gripping her ankles.

“Crawl out of there,” he ordered her. Casey slowly leaned forward and crawled out of the box on all fours. She looked her worst. She had lost weight, her hair was all matted and stringy. She followed him, her breasts dangling below her as she crawled down the dimly lit corridor. They stopped at the entrance to the torture chamber.

“What is it going to be?” the pastor asked her.

Casey lifted herself up, straightening her back, still on her knees. She looked the pastor in the eye and said, “Jesus.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Jesus,” she repeated, “I love sodomy and so do you.”

The pastor dropped to his knees and grabbed Casey by the chin. Pressing hard he looked her in the eye and said, “listen you filthy whore, you slut, you sodomite. How does one slice of bread and one glass of water per day sound? Or maybe a cracker and a small cup of water? What is it going to take to end this charade?”

He let go of Casey’s chin to let her reply. She forced a smile and said, “fuck me. Fuck me up the ass like you so badly want to do to your wife.

He didn’t do that but he took her into the room, hung her by the wrists from the ceiling and whipped her for the first time. He used a special whip that left no marks on her skin. He lashed her front and back, landing more blows on her breasts and ass. Casey passed out on multiple occasions. Her screams grew fainter each time she came around. The pastor tired and took a break and came back and whipped her some more. When he dropped to the ground, stripped to his underwear, drenched in sweat, exhausted, Casey muttered, “I love sodomy and so do you.”

The pastor got up and picked up his clothes and walked out of the room. Casey, barely conscious and writhing in agony caught a glimpse of the obvious sign that the pastor was well and truly aroused by all of this.

X

“Here you go, drink some more, it’ll help you get your strength back,” the middle-aged lady said to Casey, who was sitting up on a firm mattress.  She sipped the warm, sweet drink. The lady had been bringing her the same drink several times a day.

Casey was still sore from the lengthy confinement and prolonged whipping. On the pastor’s orders she had been left to dangle for another four hours before she was taken down and revived with a jet of cold water. Dripping wet but very weak, she had been dragged to a washroom where she was scrubbed clean by three women, the two who had tormented her for so many days, plus this lady whom she had never seen before. Together they soaped, scrubbed and shampooed her, cleaning all the sweat, dirt and filth off her body. Casey enjoyed all the attention but she was too weak and tired to even smile. When they finished a process that took close to three hours, she was strapped to a gurney and rolled into another room, where under bright lights she was sedated and remained that way for close to a week, during which she was flushed with fluids via two IV lines and thoroughly drained. When the sedation wore off, she was helped to her feet and made to walk around the room several times a day. Then she was hosed from head to toe and escorted to a room which had a mattress and a hole toilet.

The lady stood by the door and spoke as Casey drank, “now dear, why are you being so difficult? We are only trying to help you and save you from what torments you. The pastor means well, we all mean well.”

Casey stopped drinking and looked the woman in the eye, “you have kept me naked for months now. Is that a Christian thing to do? You locked me in a small box for weeks. Do you know what it’s like in there? I bet you’d love to find out. Or maybe you once did.”

The lady looked annoyed, “unfortunately we cannot make all the laws in this community, else we’d have you tied to a cross and put on display in the town square for all to egg you and spit on you. That’s what whores and sodomites deserve. And we’d get the lowest life forms in the human race to violate you constantly. You think you are unrecognizable now, just think how you’d look and feel if we truly punished like a Christian.”

“Sure. Bring it on. I love sodomy. And I bet you do too,” Casey sneered, spreading her legs and rubbing her pussy with one hand, in full view of the lady who looked away.

“Come on, want to taste,” she dared her. The lady stepped forward and grabbed the empty cup, “sick whore,” she yelled, storming out of the room.

“What are you afraid of,” Casey yelled after her, as the door slammed shut, “what’s a little pussy between friends?” Casey slowly crawled off the mattress. She crawled the few steps to the hole and knelt over it, she rested her butt on her heels and peed. She was amazed at how often she had to pee and how much came out each time. Must be those drinks, she thought to herself. When she finished she crawled back to the mattress, wet between the legs. She lay down and pressed her legs tightly together, rubbing her thighs so that she aroused herself. But her strength got her so far. She stopped and rolled onto her side and closed her eyes.

XI

“With all due respect, Pastor, do you think this is working?” one of the elders who was at Casey’s trial asked.

The Pastor glared at him, “give it time. These are proven methods.”

“Yes, but you have pushed every limit and she is still defiant.”

“Maybe it’s time to fight fire with fire.”

“You mean, commit sins to cure the sinner?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know about that,” another elder chimed in, “I wish we could publicly humiliate and degrade her but that won’t work but I’m sure we can reason with her, maybe through respect. Perhaps we can clothe her and house her better. Show that we are compassionate and willing to forgive. Turn the tables on her a bit.”

“Nonsense,” the Pastor thundered, startling everyone, “she deserves no better until she repents! She must repent first! A sodomite like her cannot be treated the same way we treat each other! She must remain naked! I wish I could put her back in the box! A filthy mind must have a filthy body! But no, you got your way this one,” he got up, “just this once. Never again. She will repent before me, then we’ll see about the clothes and the comforts!”

The Pastor stormed out of his office and descended the stairs to the cellar.

XII

Casey was stretched on the rack, her ribs prominent and almost protruding. She was 107 pounds at her most recent check-up. She was sweating. Her heart was racing. Her body wasn’t at any breaking point but she was uncomfortable. She couldn’t turn her head and she was gagged with a piece of cloth.

The Pastor held a candle above her as he spoke, “you see Casey, your friends upstairs want me to clothe you and feed you gourmet dinners. They want you to have a nice comfortable bed, even a proper toilet and a daily shower with unlimited water. I bet you want that too. Now I know what you are going to say but it won’t come out, and neither will your screams.” He tilted the candle and a drop of hot, molten wax fell onto Casey’s stomach, just above her belly button. Casey grimaced as the wax cooled on her skin.

“How about I make a pattern, a ring around your nipples?” the Pastor asked, bringing the candle close to Casey’s left breast, “isn’t this what you sodomites like to call BDSM? Bondage, domination and sado-masochism? Pleasure through pain, sometimes intense pain.” He tilted the candle and a drop landed just below Casey’s nipple. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a stifled scream. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“Think about it. I have lots of candles. I can make lovely patterns. I was good at graphic design in my youth. I can use your body as a canvas.” Another drop of wax, this time under her right nipple. He continued to pattern a ring around each nipple and her belly button. Casey continued to withstand the torment, hoping it would end with three patterns and not more.

The Pastor stepped away for a little while. When he returned her relaxed the pulleys and allowed Casey’s body to relax. He removed that gag and peeled the dry wax off the spots on her body, leaving white marks on her skin. “Beautiful,” he said.

“I know what you’d like to say, just save it,” he continued, removing her shackles. “Drop to your knees”, he ordered her. Casey climbed off the table and fell to her knees. The two women who had been through this process with Casey for so long came inside and stood on either side of her.

“Fight fire with fire. That’s the Lord’s orders to me. Perhaps after today, you will repent,” the Pastor said, opening his fly and pulling out his semi-erect penis. The two women looked away, but kept their hands on Casey’s shoulders.

“I knew it,” Casey said, “you’re just like us, a regular person, repressed through his own hypocrisy.” The Pastor’s cock grew before her face. She looked up to him and said, “never.”

The women dropped to their knees and grabbed Casey’s arms, holding them behind her and then gripping her around the front. Casey put up a struggle, twisting her neck away from the Pastor’s cock which was a mere inch from her mouth. “I’ll bite it off,” she screamed, “I don’t do faggots!”

The Pastor rubbed his cock as Casey kept turning her head from side to side, refusing to take it in, “I love sodomy,” she’d scream over and over again, until several squirts of cum lashed face, even entering her mouth. The women threw her to the floor and pinned her down. Casey’s face was covered with cum.

“This will wash it off,” the Pastor said, aiming his flaccid cock at her face and peeing all over it. One of the women had managed to hold her mouth open. Casey gagged and gurgled , spitting out as much as she could.

“Hose her down and throw her in the concrete cell!” the Pastor roared, zipping up his pants and storming out of the room.