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I don't know how to categorize this. It's a stroker, but it's also psychological? Very niche. Very fetish. Freud would have a field day with this one. Buttstuff. Buttstuff everywhere. But, also not?
Also, I very much want to clarify: This is in no way endorsing fucked up cult shit, and this is a very fucked up cult being portrayed, even though it's presented through the eyes of the indoctrinated. It definitely touches on non-consent, and that's part of the kink, so be forewarned.
The cult's just a vehicle for the fetish, nothing more. This should never be real life. And if it is, GTFO out. And that's not just a disclaimer of responsibility. I literally mean that. If you want to do this, just sidestep the cult and hire a very open minded sex worker.
Part One:
Oh my Lord, have mercy! For the last time, it's NOT a cult. It's a fellowship. And all these personal attacks are more telling of who YOU are as a person, of all your own personal biases, than a criticism of the Fellowship itself. I swear, even after nineteen years of marriage, nineteen years of Fellowship, you were never able to see through to the heart of it all. And really, Dear, it's such a small part of the doctrine, anyway. Truly, out of all the good, out of all the love and compassion present here, you laser in on such a minor piece of it, all the buttsex, that is.
--Mother to Father last Tuesday.
I was eighteen years, two months, and three days old. Finally a man, finally beholden to the doctrines. And at my first taste of responsibility, what'd I do? I mucked it all up.
Penance:
Mom rested her hands on my shoulders and led me into the living room. Please, don't. I looked behind me, and through the connected archway, back into the kitchen, I saw Maggie pursing her lips, reproachful eyes. She pushed a limp wedge of toast around her plate.
The corners of my eyes burned and drained into my sinuses. I sniffled.
Mom long nails grazed up and down my spine, relaxing me--and worse. "Mommy, tickle scratch!" I used to say that to her when I was little. I'd reach up, clamming my fingers together, and she'd set me on her knee. Relaxing.
But today it was worse. "Would you rather some privacy..." Mom indicated first to her bedroom. The door was half closed, and a crimson glow pulsed around the threshold. I knew it was her lava lamp bubbling on her nightstand, splashing color in an otherwise dark room. You know, in there, no one would see what would happen next. It really would be a private affair.
"Or?" Mom left that last question leading, and indicated to the stiff couch right at the heart of the living room, in full view of the painted glass windows, the main threshold, and even the kitchen, where my sister stabbed at her eggs, casting glances my way.
The couch was just the opposite: White walls and sun blaring through the bay windows overlooking the neighbor's front lawn and the rest of normal suburbia. It was blindingly bright on the couch. There, all would be revealed.
I stopped in the center of the living room, Dad's extra long pajamas, the pair I'd stolen, all bunched around my feet. The sudden halt bumped mother into my back, but she collected herself, tried to collect me, and began tickle-scratching the nape of my neck.
Dad's place was intimacy with Mom. Mine was...this was punishment. I'd forgotten my prayers, completely failed under God; as such, I pointed to the couch. In here was the truer penance. Right as I did so, I heard a sharp gasp from the kitchen, Maggie's, but tried to tune her out.
Mom squeezed my shoulder. "I'll get a blanket to cover the cushions." A quick peck on the head, and she added, "I'm proud of your decision," and with that, she was gliding off to the laundry room, no doubt to get the dingy and often abused nylon covers.
As soon as she left, I heard a fork clank back in the kitchen, and little footsteps padded into the living room, ending up right behind me. I forced myself to stare at a crack in the wall.
"So," Maggie, my twin, said, having crept up behind me, "my perfect brother finally screwed up, huh?"
Ignore her, ignore her.
...that drywall crack rose about two inches, then kinda cantered off to the left before jogging back to the right...
From the corner of my eye, I saw Maggie rise on the tips of her toes and peek around under my chin. "Are you ready? You know it's going to hurt."
Snap! Snap. She tried to get my attention. Then she sighed, "Uh, whatever," and left me with a final parting shot, "you know, when it goes in, make sure to clench up really tight!"
I gasp in this weird almost hiccup kind of thing.
She patted me on the back, "do lots of that, too. And moan. God likes that, they said."
Maggie tried to get one final rise out of me, "Oh, by the way, I think Mom's gonna have me be the one to do it. Yeah, huh, she said so."
I think that was the moment when reality swallowed my soul. I can't even recall staring at the crack in the wall. My eyes unfocused, but not in a blurry kind of way. Emek Escort The world was so bright, so sharp, so clear, and I slipped out of myself beyond it. All the tension melted from my neck, released its grip on my spine. I slouched, disconnected.
Somewhere along that time, Mom had come back into the room. She held me by the elbow and led me across the floor. "Huh?" I looked right through her as she sat me on the couch.
The texture of the cushions didn't feel like normal. Oh, that's right, Mom had draped some nylon sheets over the couch. Huh. I felt her hand on my chest. She pushed me onto my back, pulled my feet up onto the couch, slipped off my shoes, jerked off my socks, tossed them God knows where.
My mind drifted up toward the ceiling, and there, I began to count the popcorn fluffs hanging down. 1, 2, 3...
Fingertips, someone else's, fiddled with my belt buckle, gentle tuggings at my britches, knees got one hell of a draft all of a sudden. Popcorn fluffs, popcorn...39, 40, 41...The waistband of my undies snapped against my flesh...47, 48, 49, 50 popcorn fluffs...my undies were slid down, too, and I was almost bare...59, 60, 61, 62, Snap, Snap! Maggie's head drifted wholly into my vision. I wiggled to the side, trying to see back to my popcorn fluffs...63, 64...She leaned over farther, and her damn head blocked my escape again.
"Mom wants me to take off your shirt," she said--snap, snap--. "Hey! Mom wants me to take off your shirt." I tried to ignore her, but then the brat wailed, "Mo-om!"
Christ on a condom! That bitch shriek was enough to snap anyone's soul back into their body, and just like that, I was acutely aware that I was laying on the couch, on a stark white sheet of nylon, buck naked from the waist down. Sweat slopped about between my backside and the sterile white exam-room-esque cloth. On the front side, icy bursts of A/C wafted down on my body. My flacid little weiner tipped off to one side, resting its head on a pillow of dark pubes. Mom was kneeled down by my waist. She was the one who'd pulled off my bottom half, and she wasn't staring at my shame, instead, she was looking me right in the eyes, rubbing her thumb on my forearm. "There, there, it's alright, boo" was the impression I got from her.
Sister's face was blush red, and her expression was twisted, doing its damndest to appear indignant. Seeing me snap back to this reality, she tried to huff, to roll her eyes, but for a skosh, her pupils lingered right on my bare nethers, drafty as they were, and she clenched her jaw and huffed out her nose.
"Hey, boo, why don't you let your sister help you?" Mom asked. "Raise your arms." I did as she said. Her lips pursed into a smile. "Maggie." One word, that was her instruction to Sister, but immediately, I felt Sister's thumbs graze down along my happy trail, curl around the hem of my shirt, and I shuddered, frigid sopping sweat. As I did, my penis rolled over and rested its head on the other side of the pillow.
Surely, this was my demise. This was an experience of Hell.
I raised my arms high up over my head, involuntarily pointed my toes, clear up until both sides of me were slapped against either armrest of the couch, and fully stretched bare before my Mother, who kneeled over my bare waist, and Sister, who slid my shirt off my bare chest, sight lingering on, what should have been, my privates.
This was the first time probably either of them had seen me naked since I was five years old and splashing about in a bathtub. This was my whole shame.
My sinuses dribbled. I sniffled when my shirt was halfway up.
Right as she heard the sound of my sniffle, Maggie gasped, and hesitated stripping me naked. Her big brown eyes opened wide, tugging apart the freckles on her cheeks, wrinkling her button nose. I ripped my gaze from the popcorn ceiling and looked into her deep pupils. They contracted, cat-like.
I opened my mouth to speak, but all I did was rasp out a tiny eek.
Mom's thumb rubbed the inside of my thigh, far higher than a mother should touch. "It's okay, boo." Pat. Pat.
Suddenly, I felt a slender forefinger graze along the trench of my smooshed butt cheeks. I whimpered and sniffled back some tears once again. The backside of her nails scratched my trench on the downstroke. Mommy, mommy, tickle-scratch! She tickled my intimacies on up again, then back down. Up, down. Up, down. Comforting. Soothing. Then prodding. Pushing my cheeks apart with a wiggly worm. Her fingertip poked between my hills.
Sister leaned forward, eyes still locked on my own, her hands still clenched around the hem of my shirt that she'd pulled halfway up my chest. Her forehead rested against mine. She leaned up, kissed my nose. This was a soft Sister. She kissed my cheek, let her plump lips linger there as she nibbled, specks of saliva wet that union. This was a tender Sister.
I was confused. What happened to the brat? This wasn't the Maggie I knew.
Mom scissored her finger between my thighs, just not quite there yet, until, Emek Escort Bayan I felt the tip of her finger graze over my clenching bud. Mother felt me. She knows what that part of me feels like now.
I gasped! Lurched my back.
This caught Sister off guard, and she glanced down below, down to see exactly what violation had occurred.
I mouthed words. My lips stuck together, chapped. Only gasping air rasped out between them. "Don't...don't..." I eventually was able to say.
"Huh?" Hearing my words, Sister looked back up at me, looked me in the eyes.
"...don't look...don't look...don't look..." That was what I told her.
Her gaze did linger back down to Mother's violations, but I begged her at the end, "Please."
Maggie swallowed. Her head gently nodded, and once again her forehead pressed against mine, so close, her breath rolled across my lips, into my nose as I inhaled. She pressed down tighter, wiggled her own nose and gave me an Eskimo kiss.
Mother's finger covered my hole entirely. She rubbed it around and around, pure friction pulling me left, right, up, down. I clenched and released from the sensation. On release, the tip of her finger poked inside just enough for me to clench around her, and she used that grip to pull me around even farther.
I caught my breath and clenched so tight.
"...don't look...don't look...don't look..." I begged Maggie.
She shook her head just a touch. Her hand pulled my chin down, opening my mouth, and held it there. She rested her lips on my own. It wasn't a kiss, instead she whispered a single word inside me: "Hump."
Her breath filled my mouth, and despite her proximity, it didn't feel sensual. She smelled so normal: Minted Colgate, buttery toast, and a bite of some sharpness. This was my usual sister.
"Hump." She bit the top of my lip. "Hump. Hump. Hump."
I did. My hips rocked against Mother's proddings. She felt in deeper until it burned, but she never stretched, never wholly entered, just tested me.
I bucked my body back and forth. Sister panted into me. I felt her small hand slide across my chest. She flicked one of my nipples. Any other time, this would be the kind of thing we'd laugh about, but she was perfectly serious. This was my normal sister doing abnormal things
I breathed her in. She rubbed my nipple until it hardened, panted into me. Mother prodded. I humped. We were all getting into a rhythm, and then, it stopped.
Mother pulled her finger out of me. Her soft meek voice was tinged with a hint of huskiness as she asked me, "Are you ready to begin the penance?"
"...yes," I rasp, but that was only into Sister's open mouth.
Maggie wiggled her nose against mine, but she never smiled, even though it felt awkward that she didn't. The current her was trying to be a tender comfort, at least, in her own way.
Sister pulled her face away from mine, and that revealed Mother's to me. Mom leaned over, praying hands before her, and Christ, she did smile, just like the Virgin Mary. She grabbed Sister's small hand, held it between her praying hands, and said, "I know you won't be able to understand it right now, but it is important that your sister performs this upon you. Can you trust me on that, Boo?"
Shit. Maggie wasn't lying about that earlier. She stared right into my eyes, not blinking, face completely serious. She was clearly forcing this facade, and I wished she wouldn't. I wished she'd giggle and laugh and make fun of me. But she didn't for some reason.
Maggie put her finger under my lips. "Spit."
This was absurd! And she was so damn serious, too! So I did what she said. I spit a big glob onto the tip of her finger. Still making eye contact, she brought that same finger under to own lips and spit right on top of my own glob. Then under Mother's and Mom did the same.
Mom grabbed the balls of my feet. "Pick your legs up, Boo." And raised my legs straight up into the air, until my toes were pointed at the ceiling. It felt like I was an infant once again. She did it with such practice, too. This was surely the exact same position that she'd changed my diaper in so many times before when I was a baby, not that I'd remember, but this damn sure will be burned into my brain from now on.
Sister, holding her spit covered finger up like some holy thing, began to shift on back, away from my chest, and on down behind my upturned legs.
And I...
I know it was a sin, but Goddamn, I just could take the shame, and I yelled out, "Wait!"
Sister, Mother, both froze. Probably shamed and shocked at my outburst.
"Please." I sniffled, the corners of my eyes heated up and tingled, a wet trail leaked down my cheek, and I know how shameful it was, but I looked right at Sister; I'd stopped her before she saw, and I said to her, "Please, don't look. I don't know what I'd do if you saw I..." And I whimpered off into a pathetic blubbering mess.
Right then, Maggie huffed and shook her head. She laughed at me, too.
Just kill me now, God.
I Escort Emek closed my eyes and prayed for that lighting bolt. When that didn't work right away, I even took the Lord's name in every blasphemy I could think of.
A small thumb pulled down my chin. My mouth opened, and this time, I felt plump, slightly damp lips clamp around my upper one. It was a gentle peck. A forehead rested back against my own, and I felt the breath of Sister as she whispered into my mouth once more, quiet and out of earshot of Mother. "You don't get it. You've never had to do penance. You're just like Dad was."
I flinched as she mentioned his name.
She carried on. "I'm not here to shame you." She spoke, louder, "Mother, guide me." As she said that, her face remained here with me, and she continued to whisper, only to me, "I know I'm stupid. I know I don't have the words to make it make sense, but Mother knows what she's doing, and I--" She collected herself. "---I've had this done to me, and now that Dad's gone, I'm going to do it to you...if that makes sense?"
"...please just don't look..." It was all I could beg between the shudders and pathetic whimpers.
Sister's fat lips clamped around my upper one, and she sucked it in, long and deep. There was a wet smack as she released it, then gentle sucklings as she caressed it. "It was never about shame." And then she whispered much softer. "This is love." Her slender finger entered me.
I arched and moaned, and she stayed right there with me, suckling my lip, gaze locked on my eyes. I clenched. Her finger paused. The wet dripping of all our saliva's--mine, Sister's, Mother's--soaked into my burning skin. Sister suckled. I unclenched. She pressed herself deeper, and right then, I realized I felt another hand on her own: Mother's. Mother's hand was gripped around Sister's fingers, pressing her inside me, guiding her on in.
Mother was watching. She saw my everything bare before her, her baby boy, and shoved Sister's finger clear up to the knuckle.
Fully inside, Sister curled her finger around. The sensation was muted, but I felt her scrape some kind of bulb in there. It rocked my cock. Wet dribblings leaked out, moisted my gut, and all I could say to her was "don't look."
"I won't. Promise." Her breath filled me as did her prodding, and right then, I was wholly Sister's.
Her finger pulled out. I heard the clicking of a bottle cap. Cold moisture leaked onto my upturned ass cheeks. A bigger hand rubbed, what I just realized was, lotion in: Mother's touch, once again.
She brought the slop down. I felt her work it around my hole, around Sister's finger, and Sister punched in again, this time, without friction. I realized Mother no longer hand a hold on Sister's hand. Everything that happened from here on out was entirely my little sister's doing.
She buried herself down all the way, until her palm cupped my cheeks. My hole stretched as another finger pushed inside. "Accept it," Sister said, completely serious.
I clenched. She pulled out, pushed back in. "Accept it," she said again, harsher tone.
I couldn't. She pulled out, shoved back in, "Accept it!" And this time, she didn't wait for me to relax, she forced her second finger straight through my tenderness.
I cried out. She pulled out. "Accept it!" A third finger shoved in. White hot pain convulsed my pelvis. I screamed. She screamed. "Accept it!" And slammed all three fingers into me, stretching more than I could take. They all curled upwards, rubbing that bulb on the inside of me, and it sent a thousand watt current straight to my dick.
Then, the humiliation began.
Sister didn't just work her hand in and out. She straight up started fapping my ass. Nasty wet slops of lotion. Pain dulled into a harsh burning. Electricity pumped my cock. A spurt of watery semen shot out. "Accept it! Accept it! Accept it!" Sister's wail was carnal and frantic. She screamed into my lips. I moaned into hers.
A gentle slice cut through all that pandemonium. Mother's nails tickled scratched the insides of my thighs, brushing against my testicles, matting down the hair occasionally. "Easy, Boo. I love you. Easy, Boo. I love you..."
As hard as Sister fapped my ass, Mother gently repeated those words, surely watching as I was stretched bare right in front of her.
Just as I began to open to all three of Sister's fingers, she spread her fingers apart while deep inside, stretching me wider, and the grossest thing happened: There was a sloppy wet lotiony fart. It rumbled and belched between her fingers. I felt my hole flap, and she didn't even pause a beat, ever screaming down my throat, pumping me, massaging my insides, that electric bulb.
I felt like the scum of the Earth right then. Truly, this was penance.
And I began to bawl, blubbery and wholly without restraint. I was junk.
Even still, my cock responded, my hips bucked. My toes tingled. My throat swelled around a guttural moan. Stars filled my vision. And a whole body spasm overtook my sanity. I shot watery strings of semen all over myself. Powerful shots drenched me, never ending. My balls emptied before my family. Sister's head lurched. A bead dripped off her brow, and she continued to pump me, milking every last glob from my body.