Sarah Falls from Grace

This story has a tone of non-consent, or at least reluctance, which I had neither envisaged or intended when I began to write it; if that offends/is not to your taste, then I suggest that you skip it. Then again, it is a free country - well, here is anyway - so you can of course just read it anyway and complain in the comments section afterwards.

Even as a small child, my daughter Rachel was... difficult, her father, my husband Joseph, would explain away each episode as being 'Another of the Good Lord's tests'. Things got no better as Rachel grew into her teens, she rebelled against anything and everything Joseph stood for and held dear; though Rachel's rejection of our church was the biggest blow.

Beyond the personal disappointment of that rejection, with Joseph being our church's Pastor, it was a public slight too; doubly so as my own father, Rachel's grandfather had been our pastor before him. Joseph had been a committed member of our congregation and was elected one of the chaplains soon after we married; when my father passed a few years later, Joseph was the obvious candidate to step-up.

Things changed irrevocably on Rachel's eighteenth birthday; she came down the stairs that morning with a holdall in her hand, walked through the front door and never crossed our threshold again. We soon discovered that Rachel had moved in with a young man, a very unsuitable young man, but nothing we said could get her to return home.

But Rachel was no fool, something which always made her behaviour doubly frustrating; she remained in school, taking and passing her exams with flying colours a few months later. Rachel refused even financial help from Joseph and I, apparently funding herself through a part-time job; I always felt it might be best not to enquire too deeply into the nature of her employment.

On the back of those exam results Rachel gained a place at Exeter University; perhaps the furthest college from home that she could have chosen. On the upside, university did see Rachel separating from the vile man that she'd been living with; by then I'd discovered that he wasn't even 'young', but my entreaties on that score had been sharply rebuffed:

"Yes, I know mum, nine years older than me, disgusting isn't it... But remind me mum, how old was daddy when you married him at nineteen; was he thirty-three, or thirty-four by then?"

Rachel supported herself financially through university too, despite Joseph and I personally and the church too offering her our assistance. At the last we made our offers unconditional, dropping any requirement for Rachel to return to the church or her home, but even that offer was rejected. Instead Rachel got by on a bursary, student loans and more part-time jobs.

We gleaned through a third-party that Rachel had been equally successful with her university studies and that on their conclusion had gone overseas. Rachel apparently then went to work for various charitable organisations and travelled the world between postings; neither Joseph nor I had seen or heard from her since the day she caught the train to Exeter.

It was in 2022 that we literally bumped into each other in a local shopping centre. I was too flabbergasted to speak, I couldn't believe my eyes and wasn't even sure that it was Rachel until she spoke "Hi mum... Long time, no see." If Rachel hadn't dropped her own shopping bags to catch my arm, I suspect my legs would've buckled beneath me.

Having helped me to a nearby bench to recover my equilibrium, Rachel then led me to a nearby cafe for a restorative cup of tea and to fill me in, or at least provide a précis of the intervening years; nine of them! It seemed that Covid restrictions had put an end to her nomadic lifestyle, so she and her boyfriend had returned to England.

The two of them had set up a business refurbishing and extending houses; the boyfriend -- Jake -- sorted out the bricks and mortar side of things, while Rachel dealt with the interior design and decoration. The business had begun with them doing-up a place for a friend of Jake's during the lockdowns and grown from there; their services were apparently in high demand.

Rachel was... cordial rather than loving and divulged only that they lived 'not very far away', but she didn't give me their address or a phone number; Rachel did at least agree to meet me again, at the same café, four weeks hence. Only later did I learn that Rachel had been at the shopping mall that day to buy clothes for her wedding to Jake; that'd been on the following Saturday, Joseph and I were not invited.

Rachel kept our appointment and we continued to meet up once a month thereafter. I did eventually discover Rachel's address and her phone number too, though not directly from Rachel, so I never made use of either, nor did I divulge them to Joseph. Joseph joined me for just one of those meetings at the café; it didn't go well between Rachel and her father.

I also met Jake on a couple of occasions, when he and Rachel were apparently en-route to a business meeting afterwards. Jake seemed a pleasant enough chap, who I guessed to be much the same age as Rachel and while he wasn't within our, or indeed any church, he did seem to have curbed Rachel's wayward behaviour, which in itself was a Christian thing to do.

Things continued like that for more than a year and might still be continuing so now had Joseph not died unexpectedly from a heart attack. Unsure of the reaction I had a parishioner use the phone number I'd gleaned and got her to call Jake, leaving it to him to advise Rachel of her father's death and the funeral arrangements; neither she nor Jake attended.

Rachel did at least turn up for the café meeting we had arranged for the following week; she offered me her condolences, but seemed little effected, or even interested in Joseph's demise with regard to herself. When I mentioned this, the tone of Rachel's reply was vitriolic: "That man was never a father to me!" I didn't press Rachel further.

It was only a couple of days later that I discovered how my own circumstances had changed, though I may well not have raised the subject with Rachel anyway: With Joseph's death a new Pastor was elected and he, along with his family would be moving into our, or more precisely, the church's house; with no family of my own, tradition apparently dictated that I became a ward of the congregation.

This had not been an issue when my father had died as my own mother had died young, when I was only seventeen. It seemed I was to pack my bags and move in with one of the families and after a few months, weeks, or just days, depending upon their circumstances, I'd then be moved on to the next; I was to become a perpetual 'house-guest' for the remainder of my life.

That would be an uninviting prospect for anyone, but I was only forty-nine years old; I might easily be 'doing the rounds' for thirty years or more, my biblical namesake lived to be 127! I enquired with Social Services, but found they'd already been contacted by the new Pastor and advised of the church's offer; given the pressures they faced elsewhere, I wasn't close to being a priority.

It was a Friday afternoon, I was due to move in with the Kennedy family that evening, ahead of the Pastor's arrival on the Saturday. A large van drew up outside the house and minute later, the doorbell rang; it was Brian Kennedy and at his shoulder stood Jake. "I've just heard that your beloved church is kicking you out Sarah; you'd better come to live with us."

It was Jake's turn to catch me by the arm before I collapsed to the floor; I was every bit as astonished as I'd been that day at shopping centre. "How... Wha... What about Rachel; what does she say? Is Rachel OK with this? It won't be just for a few days, it might take months before I get to the top of the social housing list; longer still if I've moved in with Rachel and yourself."

"No matter; I've made my decision and Rachel will abide by it. We'll give her the good news when we get there. Now, let's pack-up what you need and we'll be on our way; Brian has assured me that everything you're taking will easily fit in my van."

Jake was right about that; with expectations of being forever transient I'd packed very little beyond my clothes. However, at Jake's insistence I gathered up a few more keepsakes and filled the boxes that he had brought with him. We talked as we packed -- the longest time I'd ever spent in his company -- and by the time that we'd driven back to their house, Jake had outlined his plan.

Their house seemed like a mansion compared to the pokey little house where I'd spent my whole life; their business was clearly doing even better than Rachel had inferred. My arrival wasn't a complete surprise to Rachel, Jake had telephoned her with the news as we'd been driving back; as ever, my daughter's reception was cordial but nothing more.

Having carried all my belongings into the largest and most palatial bedroom that I'd ever entered, Jake ordered a home-delivered Chinese meal and opened a bottle of fizzy wine; champagne? It was a night of firsts for me: Our church didn't proscribe alcohol, though I'd never before drunk it in the quantity we did that evening, nor had I ever tasted Chinese food; Joseph had favoured a simple diet.

Through the course of the evening Jake explained his plans to Rachel and indeed clarified the details for me: As Rachel was apparently 'always complaining' that on top work, the household chores and garden were too much for them both, I was to move in and take care of the domestic side of things, so allowing them more time to concentrate on the business.

I relished the idea, but ahead of hearing from Rachel, I tried not to let that show; I also hoped that in the fullness of time, my workload might be increased to include caring for grandchildren? Rachel was -- as ever -- cordially polite, but I got the impression that her answer was going to be 'No', until a look passed between she and Jake, whereupon Rachel smiled and agreed to 'see how it goes'.

After the wine and rich food I was rather squiffy by the time we all went to bed; almost eleven o'clock, outrageously late for me. Nevertheless, before climbing into bed I knelt and prayed to the Good Lord as always; taking care only to thank him for his gifts and to ask him to bless Jake and Rachel, after today's events I couldn't ask him for anything more.

Being the weekend allowed us the time to begin learning to share the house and while I was designated chief cook and bottle washer, I quickly realised that I'd much to learn. I'd never used a coffee-maker or a dishwashing machine in my life and the meals that I'd prepared for Joseph were not going to cut the mustard in Jake's household.

As I'd discovered the evening before, Jake and Rachel would not be joining me in saying grace before meals, though they did -- provided that I didn't take too long about it -- allow me the courtesy of silence while I prayed. Similarly, Jake lent me his car on Sunday -- and soon after bought me one of my own -- to attend the services at our church; I didn't ever suggest that they might join me.

As the weeks progressed we all became... easier and more relaxed around each other; Rachel certainly became warmer toward me, though we didn't achieve what I'd call a true mother/daughter relationship. I soon learnt how to use those household appliances and got on top of the garden too; a man visited once each week to do the most physical jobs.

I also developed a whole new repertoire of recipes and was invariably surprised to discover that I enjoyed them too. I've always been a good cook, perhaps by dint of my mother's early death? While they called for different ingredients and methods, the principals remained the same, it was still just putting food on the family's table.

After a while I was co-opted into assisting with the clerical side of Jake and Rachel's business too, but still found time -- in part thanks to that car which Jake had bought for me -- to support our church's social and charitable works too. I never involved, or even mentioned those to Jake and Rachel, content that they were both Christian in their actions, if not their beliefs.

I can recall thinking that this was perhaps the most wonderful period of my whole life, but events proved me wrong. The first of those events occurred when I'd been living with Jake and Rachel for about three months, on what I'd thought to be an ordinary Thursday night; in hindsight, our conversation had perhaps been a little stilted at dinner, but nothing that really registered.

I cleared away after the meal before joining Rachel and Jake over another glass of wine while watching TV until nine o'clock. As usual, unless something in the news headlines caught my attention, I then retired to my room; I don't enjoy many of the TV programmes that are broadcast in the late evening and even when I do, I often find myself... uncomfortable in watching them with Jake and Rachel.

I'd visited the bathroom for my nightly ablutions and was knelt beside the bed saying my evening prayers when I heard the door opening. I assumed it would be Rachel, but I didn't allow her arrival to distract me from my prayer. My father had taught me the folly of that offence with Joseph on occasion re-iterating the lesson; they'd stripped me naked and thrashed me.

When I lowered my hands and opened my eyes, I was surprised to discover that it was Jake standing beside me; a moment later that surprise turned to astonishment, when I realised that he was naked. I moved to stand up, but was checked by Jake's hand on my shoulder as he stepped in front of me and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"No Sarah, you're fine just where you are... In fact you couldn't be better positioned for sucking my cock."

I didn't move or make a sound, unless you count the plaintive whimper and my beginning to tremble. I remained on my knees, open mouthed in astonishment; I wonder if my losing the power of speech contributed to what happened next? Jake's cock sliding between my lips, then provided more than adequate reason for my ongoing silence.

Jake's hand had transferred from my shoulder to my head, but I'm not sure that he needed to apply much motive force to have my head roll forward to engulf the already semi-erect shaft that he held in his other hand. This wasn't the first time I'd had a man's penis in my mouth, far from it, but it was the first time in what was perhaps five years.

Early in our marriage fellatio had been Joseph's favourite precursor to sex and later, when he was no longer quite so firm, he would still take some pleasure with my mouth. Joseph hadn't my first either, as in all things, that had been daddy; cooking and cleaning had not been the only tasks which I'd been obliged to undertake after mummy died.

While Jake didn't physically coerce me to pleasure his rod, I was given plenty of verbal encouragement and in language the like of which I'd never heard him use before. Lewd, crude and on occasion even blasphemous; the latter most especially made me shudder, but given the way in which I was trembling already, I doubt Jake even noticed.

But that wasn't sufficient to deter me and when Jake called for me to "Use your tongue like the God-bothering slut you are... I want to see my whole cock disappear inside that pious mouth of yours." I tried my very best to oblige. I didn't manage it; I was long out of practice and Jake's rod felt longer and fatter than either daddy's or more especially Joseph's had been.

I tried my best fulfil Jakes ongoing instructions and demands and the longer Jake's cock remained inside me, the easier it became. In addition, several of the tricks and treats that daddy had taught me returned to mind, my voluntarily throwing those into the mix seemed to especially excite Jake. There was nothing 'semi' about Jake's erection by then, he was as rigid as an iron bar.

It wasn't so much the hands on my shoulders which brought me up short, nor even the accompanying words: "You look to be enjoying that"; it was the voice which had delivered them... that was Rachel's. It checked me in mid stroke and I made to pull free of Jake's shaft, but the pressure on my shoulders increased as Rachel crooned: "You can't stop now mum... Jake hasn't come yet."

Jake wordlessly confirmed that instruction; his hand caught me by the hair and he pressed his shaft back into my mouth, while Rachel's grip eased and her hands slipped forward and down. Rachel's fingers soon began working at the buttons of my nightdress whilst I made the only protest available to me, a mewling wail around the thick shaft inside my mouth.

It was bare seconds until Rachel's hands were back at my shoulders, slipping the soft fabric free of them; when she continued to slide the garment downward I didn't resist, I even gave my hands and wrists a shake to ease its progress. As my breasts were revealed Jake released a, bestial growl and gently grasped my left breast.

A moment later and Rachel's hand encompassed the right one; her grip was firmer, tightening further still as she commented: "Didn't I promise you that mum had gorgeous tits... And she's like me, she enjoys it when you're rough with them." In emphasis, or perhaps confirmation -- it was now my turn to emit a bestial growl -- Rachel twisted the nipple between her finger and thumb.

Jake followed suit, then pushed Rachel's hand aside to take possession of both my breasts, while her hands dropped to the hem of my nightgown and pulled it up. That was so wrong and had it just been Rachel, I would've struggled like the devil; but Jake was there too... His words were approving, in fact encouraging, so what choice had I but to acquiesce?

When that nightgown reached my hips, the touch of cooler air raised goose-bumps on my thighs and a lot more were raised a second or two later as my panties were jerked unceremoniously down to my knees. With Jake's cock still between my lips, my only response was a muted squeal and I began to shiver; those shivers weren't only due to the night air.

As Rachel's hands slid back north, I felt her nails scraping along the insides of my thighs and those shivers grew into an outright trembling. Rachel couldn't... Jake surely wouldn't allow her... It would be a sinful violation if any woman... but my own daughter! Jake provided his answer in the moment Rachel's hands reached their destination: "Is she wet enough?"

Rachel's right hand didn't stop; she pressed three, perhaps all four of her fingers deep inside me and growled "Absolutely fucking dripping... I told you that she would be... That church turns them all into submissive whores..." The obstruction of Jake's cock couldn't quell the powerful wail I voiced as Rachel penetrated, but even to my own ears, it didn't speak of protest.

Jake laughed and his assault on my breasts intensified as Rachel drove and twisted her fingers deep inside me again and added "She feels wet and sounds willing, you need to get in here while you can still touch the sides. Jake pushed me off his cock and rose from the bed; I sensed Rachel moving away as Jake disappeared from my eye-line.

Seconds later I felt Jake nestle in behind me and heard his grunt of frustration when those knickers about my knees prevented him from spreading them wider. They didn't inconvenience Jake for long; there was a momentary pain as their fabric bit into my thighs and an instant later he'd torn them away. My shriek as Jake did so was two-fold:

The pain to my legs -- particularly the right one - and the sight of Rachel as she plonked herself down onto the bed where Jake had been sitting. Rachel's appearance would in itself have been disconcerting, but more shocking was the fact that she too was as naked as the day she'd been born! That analogy being emphasised when Rachel parted her legs... she was shaved smooth.