She-Devil In Church Ch. 04

In the nine weeks after Martha was inseminated, Isabel found herself in terrible stress. She had not been able to reassert her sexual dominance over the men of the church.

Their obsession for her had been calmed. Like a spell broken, and it was obvious why, or so she thought. She blamed it on Martha, that little slut had taken her place!

She was their new fascination. She was all they talked about. Isabel knew they were fucking her every chance they could. Isabel was mad with jealously, not because they were fucking that Hell-bitch so much as because the little devil had somehow sapped Isabel's power.

Isabel had lost favor with Satan, and it drove her to consternation, malicious thoughts and nightmares.

The nightmares were strong and terrifying. Isabel kept falling into ambushes, pounced on by terrifying demons that clawed at her flesh, ripping into her skin as they fucked her.

And with each nightmare, the demon fucking lasted longer and longer. It took her longer to wake from the dreams.

The dreams were coming to her now as she lay helpless in a pool of her own stress-induced sweat, asleep in her bed, next to her husband.

Isabel woke each time cold inside and hot on her surface, choking on a scream, reaching out for her husband, who was always there to hug her and comfort her.

"Another bad dream, honey? Ohhh, it's okay baby, it was just a dream. God, you've been having them so regular lately. But they always go away, right? Okay? Better now?"

Isabel sobbed into her husband's chest, she had a renewed appreciation for her husband, who although not interested in spiritual matters and never having been a church-going man, still had a fundamental decency in him. Isabel would bite her tongue with regret, knowing she did not deserve him, knowing in her heart that her evil ways would sooner than later separate him from her.

He was a hardworking, simple man with a firm moral compass. He wasn't smart, and would never make much money, but he tried hard and he had within him the unswerving self-confidence of a blue collar man who found purpose in his trade and his place in the family.

Isabel had not appreciated him as she should have. In these trying times, he was the rock that held her together. He was her refuge from her dreams, from the torments Satan thrust upon her, from her own dissipated, dissolute conduct.

Isabel knew she had no moral compass without her husband. When he was not there to keep her at least pretending she had goodness in her. Without him, her wanton spirit dominated.

Isabel had lost a fundamental understanding of her own nature; she had invited into her demonic possession and she was no longer master of her own will.

She was lost without her spouse and less confident each day that she could hold her family together.

But her husband had to go to work and her children had to go to school. And Isabel was soon alone with her wicked heart. She sat alone, her hand sliding down to her thigh and over her pussy. She rubbed and thought to herself she needed a new conquest, someone to assert her authority over.

She smiled as she thought of Theo, that young, strong, handsome stud of a bricklayer.

She called Manuel to ask where she might find him and he directed her to a new subdivision that Theo was supposed to be working in. Isabel put on an orange peasant skirt with a canary yellow short sleeve blouse that buttoned up the front with a V-neck collar.

She didn't bother with panties or a bra, but she put on thigh-high stockings and a pair of dark brown high heels. She got in her car and drove.

Thiry-five minutes later, she finally came to the subdivision, nothing more than a row of skeletal house frames. In the distance, she saw a couple of houses that were nearly finished. That would be where she'd find Theo.

She pulled in front of a house that was having a brick facade erected in front and stepped out with a cold six-pack of Bohemia.

Theo was surprised to see her and stumbled over his hello, his radar was immediately on high alert. (She's a whore! he remembered).

She tried to invite herself inside, "Have a beer with me!?" she said in a bright, questioning voice that didn't seem to have the same confidence he'd seen in her before.

She had a hint of vulnerability about her that made her project a deceivingly normal, albeit provocative demeanor.

This appealed to his manhood, his cock twitched involuntarily and Theo felt stressed.

He declined her invitation, "I have to work." "What's the harm?," she persisted. "You, me, it's late morning. It's SO hot. I'm sure you're thirsty. Is your boss around? Maybe he'd like to join us?"

"No, I'm on my own here. I ... I don't need any help. I'm my own boss where this is concerned."

"Your own boss! Mmmmm. I guess you really know what you're doing then."

"Why are you here Mrs. Manchaca?" Theo said flatly, suspicion dripping from his tone.

He was putting Isabel on the defensive, but she wouldn't back off.

"I came to see YOU, Theo. Can't a woman enjoy your company? Can't I enjoy your company?"

And with that, and with Theo watching, she straightened the front of her skirt, her hand, palm against her belly, pushing in and down and cupped her pussy with the skirt fabric pressing into her fleshy mound.

She released her hand, revealing what had been touched for a second before the weight of the fabric fell away from her obviously-offered pussy.

Theo had fantasized about having her, but had not seriously considered an encounter. He felt his blood rush, preparing to take her even though he had the presence of mind to focus on his beloved wife. I am married, he yelled to himself inside the chambers of his mind.

Theo felt his cock's twitch stronger, It was swelling with hot blood.

His sweaty, stinking cock. And dammit, what woman would want to fuck a man who was already stinking from such hard labor?

It outraged him and excited him simultaneously. Fucking whore is right, he thought.

Isabel pretended to lose interest in him. She looked around, walked over the yard as if surveying it with it bare ground. The grass sod squares had not yet been laid.

"These houses look so barren without any grass or people or furniture or kids running in the street. Don't you think?" she said.

Her back to him, she arched her spine and pushed out her big ass while she gently made the six-pack swing back and forth in her hand, a wet cold bottle striking her hip and making that one ass cheek bounce from the indentations; swing-bump-ass shake, swing-bump-ass shake.

"Mrs. Manchaca, I think you should leave," Theo said, (hissing 'fucking whore' under his breath), but he was aroused and betraying a nervous quiver in his voice.

Isabel detected that quiver, and smiled to herself with her back to him. Her confidence recharged.

Isabel turned on the ball of her right foot and stepped sideways into a wide straddle, like a gunslinger getting ready to draw his pistol.

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere. THEO! And I don't think you really want me to."

She walked toward him, stood beside him, leaned into him and Theo recoiled as she apparently tried to kiss him. Her kiss landed on his shoulder.

She stood up straight and smiled. "I'll be inside. It's too hot out here!" She lifted the six pack and pulled up one glass bottle. "I think I'll start without you."

She walked inside with a saunter and Theo, against his better judgment, watched her ass sway and strut and bounce.

She disappeared and Theo went back to work for all of five minutes. Then he threw down his trowel and stepped away from brick and the bucket of wet mortar. The bucket was almost empty of mortar now and he'd have to make a new batch.

"Fuck!" Theo cursed. "Fuck, fuck!"

He looked at the door and walked toward it. He stepped inside. Isabel was sitting on the floor. Sitting on her butt in the dust, her skirt pulled up so far that the entirety of a tan ass cheek was radiantly exposed in all its slutty glory.

She smiled and lifted her beer in salute. Theo approached her. Isabel lifted her beer over her head and poured it from a distance into her mouth. The stream landed with a sloppy splash, some of it into her mouth and the rest down her neck to her chest and shirt.

"Glad you could make it," she said.

Theo let out a hard sigh and sat next to her, quivering all over. She handed him a beer. He chugged it down in 10 seconds and she said, "I'm impressed!"

Then she took a beer, pulled off the cap and poured it all over her shirt and belly rolls, soaking herself.

"You're one crazy bitch," Theo said.

"Mmmmmm!" Isabel moaned with delight. "You think?"

And she crawled around in front of Theo, undid his pants. He watched with dread as he gave in to adultery, having another woman expertly handle his cock.

She held his organ so confidently, just the right pressure. He sneered at her, his eyes betraying his angst. This kind of darkness wasn't a part of his nature.

She kissed his sweaty cock. Isabel took long slow licks as she carefully observed his reaction. He wouldn't smile.

She took him inside my mouth and kept him hard in her mouth for over ten minutes. Never going so fast as to draw out his cum too soon.

Then she released his cock and sat back, watching her work. His organ stood up straight and bobbed, as if begging for more attention. She smiled as he watched her smug, slutty facial expression. Isabel straightened up, stood up and pulled up her skirt to reveal her utter lack of an undergarment.

"You slut!" Theo exclaimed. No longer able to contain his lust. "Are you going to fuck on my cock?"

She laughed and straddled him. Riding his cock, watching him pant and grunt and moan. He was bewitched, he was helpless, letting her have her way with him.

She pulled his face into her chest, "Suck my tit!"

Theo resisted. He didn't want to show that much desire for her. Isabel played with her full, aromatic, round right tit, rubbing the big hard nippled on his mouth, "Suck it!"

Theo groaned and opened his mouth. He sucked with sudden hunger. Her pussy was maddening! Giving his cock so much pleasure, his cum boiling up. It was only after Theo ejaculated into her that he thought to say, "I'm married!"

Isabel grinned and looked straight into his eyes. "You think you're telling me something I don't know? Ha! I don't give a damn."

She lifted herself, getting back into a squat, then letting his cock slip out of her. She hovered and let his cum drip out of her cunt at a distance of six inches above his still hard cock.

Theo's eyes watered with post-sex regret and shame. He had cheated on his wife! "You're a fucking whore," he said, but his voice was so shaky and the pronouncement so impotent. He felt like a punk.

Isabel let out a soft chuckle and stepped to one side, she patted Theo on the head, "I'll be back soon, baby."

She stepped into her shoes and sauntered out, her shoes tapping into the dusty floor. Theo lay dazed, watching his sticky cock. It wanted more of that woman, it was already looking forward to the next time.

* * * * In the weeks that followed Martha's defilement, Imelda did as she was instructed. With the promise that her son would stop molesting her, and nothing would happen to her own daughters, Imelda associated with Martha. Imelda knew her cover for the girl had to be convincing. slightly overweight, and 41 years old, and totally out of character for her, Imelda began wearing miniskirts and makeup and she was being seen in public with Martha.

Tongues wagged and the other women began separating themselves from Imelda. It hurt her deeply to have her friends, her sisters in the church think that she had succumbed to the lusts of that evil clique of men that so disturbed the spiritual atmosphere the good ones demanded.

Imelda smiled and spoke to the men known to have brought a Satanic influence into the church. For this, for her association with a girl gone bad, for her dress and apparent resistance to repentance, Imelda was shunned.

Her actions had the unintended influence of corrupting her daughters. Despite Imelda's admonitions that they should do as she said and not as she acted, her daughters took their mom for a hypocrite and began flirting with boys at school.

But no one in the church bothered her daughters and her son stopped bothering her and the bad men only pretended interest in her. Imelda credited Isabel for that small measure of peace of mind, but the credit was misplaced.

The wicked men, that small horrid clique whose malevolent influence seemed stronger than ever, were using her for cover on their own. They were no longer listening to Isabel and Imelda didn't catch that distinction.

Weeks passed and Marta's belly grew. And with each passing day Marta seemed stronger. She was loving her pregnancy and was incredibly shameless about carrying a child in her womb out of wedlock. In associating with her, Imelda was shocked at the transformation.

"What happened to you," Marta asked more than once. "You were such a sweet girl, so decent. Your parents must be dying of shame. I know they are. Can't you feel their pain? Don't you care?" Imelda asked.

But Marta was death to this nonsense, this babble from an old bitch who didn't understand how the spiritual world really worked. "Shut up, Imelda. Look at you, trying to be a slut and nobody wants to fuck your ragged ass!"

But Imelda endured this. She endured everything. She was getting something in exchanged. She may look slutty, she may be having her good name trashed, but she knew the truth. She was still a good woman and her body had only ever been with one man.

"I am woman with honor," Imelda told herself. She could only feel sorry for Martha, who was so clearly under the Devil's influence.

Imelda could not comprehend the danger she was in. Her sense of security was about to be destroyed. In the sixth month and fifth day of Martha's pregnancy, she invited herself to breakfast. She would be at Martha's house the following morning at 6 am.

"So early?" Imelda said into her cell phone. But she agreed without giving it further thought as the pregnant slut had already had many meals now in Imelda's home, although Imelda didn't appreciate the mischievous and conspiratorial conversations that Marta engaged in with her impressionable daughters.

The following morning, Imelda lay in bed immobile. She awoke and found herself unable to move. The room was empty but she could tell by the light that 6 a.m. of the day of the sixth month and sixth day of Marta's pregnancy was minutes away.

"Why can't I move?" Imelda asked herself. She room was empty and she heard voices, too many voices. More than her husband and her son, more than Marta who was giggling somewhere on the other side of Imelda's bedroom door.

"Why can't I move?" Imelda asked again, now in a growing panic. She tried to rise. She could not.

She lay naked in her bed, the sheets pulled away. "Why can't I move!!!!"

The door opened and she recognized her son, his naked body. "No!" she thought and she tried to speak but nothing came out. She knew the son by his body but his face was hidden by a Halloween Jason mask. "No!" she screamed in her head but only managing a soft terrified grunt.

He sat beside her on the mattress and his finger circled around her right nipple, then her left nipple. He traced his finger down between her full breasts, down the middle of her stomach. He tapped a fingernail into Imelda's belly button and a sudden surge of erotic heat flowed and zinged up and down her body in a way she couldn't understand, how could she feel that kind of lust from such a touch?

Her son scraped three fingertips down her abdomen and finally reached her clit. Imelda tried again to move. "No! Roll away, uh! Why can't I roll away from him?"

His hand expertly worked her clit. He teased her pussy to secrete its juices, then he formed a spear with his hand and thrust it into her. "Ohhhhhhhh, God help me!" Imelda cried, but only in her mind, her ears only heard her muffled groans.

Imelda was on the verge of cumming within eight minutes. In the ninth minute, her old cunt released, exploding in an orgasm that seemed to have no end. She came and came and came again. And her son fisted her mercilessly.

Simon, her son, then stood and pressed his hands against her hip and rib cage just under the armpit, he rolled her onto her side and unseen to her, he removed five pins that had been placed in her spine while she was in a drug-induced sleep.

Imelda felt mobility return, but slowly. She was in slow motion, trying to roll across the bed away from her son.

"No you don't!" he said. "I'm not finished with you."

She pulled herself to her knees and hands and managed to get one leg next toward the floor, but that was as far as she got. He pounced behind her, the bed shook and he gripped her hips and drove forward his body, pushing her face into her husband's pillow.

"I did what I was told!" she cried. "I was promised immunity!"

"The one who made the promise," he said as he found his spear at the slit, "has been broken, and with her the promise is dead!"

He thrust and she who brought him into the world gasped at the feel of his sex organ, plunged deep into her. "Ohhhhhh!" she cried with a shudder.

"Ohhh yessssss," he cried with a shudder.

He held her fast. He held her in a struggle she was losing with each and every thrust. He held her with hands like claws, locked down, nails plunged into her thick flesh. He held her as the dominant and she found her submissive spirit too weak to resist.

The door opened. Imelda felt herself fucked and fucking. The young and wicked Martha appeared at Imelda's side and Imelda looked and she blushed with shame for she was enjoying her son's cock and Martha was witness!

"Don't look at me!" Imelda cried.

Martha lifted a hand and swung her arm and slapped Imelda's face and the shock of the violence so startled Imelda she was put into a state of total confusion. What is happening, she yelled into her mind and up to her God.

Simon gripped his mother's hair and jerked up her head and lifted her body into a 45 degree angle up from the bed, plunging his cock into her as Martha undressed and slid between Imelda and the bed's headboard, sitting her pregnant ass on the pillow of Imelda's husband.

"Where is my husband!" Imelda cried. "Why are you not here to protect your wife, Ricardo! ... Ricardo!"

"Like he still cares about you!" Martha snapped, and the young Devil-bitch grabbed Imelda's face and pushed it to her pussy. "Eat me, you old pig!"

Imelda was reduced to a gasping, cumming, confused wretch. She struggled for air. She lapped like a dog. Her ears burned with the foul words the young pair rained on her. She moved her ass faster when spanked and commanded. Imelda squirted and groaned.

She was frightened by the carnal power of this threesome, this forbidden sexual encounter so far beyond any kind of sexual exercise she had ever dared submit to.

Her hands resting and balanced against the womb, Imelda felt the baby move inside the slut whose pussy she ate and how she ate and licked and slurped, driven forward into the tender pink and slick flesh of a young spirit-filled woman, but spirit filled with a darkness so deep Imelda could only shiver in fear.

Imelda felt her thighs wet to her knees in the sheets, that wicked young man feeling his way inside her dishonored vaginal cavity, her ears burning as his piggish grunts and curses of "Take it you fucking whore take my fucking cock goddamn you!"

And Imelda's eyes filled with tears for she had been defeated, God had abandoned her, surely. Something had gone terribly wrong. "God has abandoned me!"

* * *

Hours later, Imelda lay in the bathtub, shivering under the spray of a cold shower, hugging her shoulders, trying to comprehend what had happened. How could such evil take over her house, her community, her body?