Please note: All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.
Please keep in mind the difference between fantasy and reality.







Vanessa's Story
Written by Janus
Copyright 2006

My name is Vanessa and this is the story of how I was molested when I was nine years old. It was a long time ago, almost twenty years but I remember it quite well. The year was 1986.

My family belonged to a Catholic Church and the head priest was a pedophile. We didn't know this at the time but he was finally arrested last year. His M.O. was to have children sleep over each Friday at the parish home where he lived. The parents were none the wiser, because who would suspect a priest of wrongdoing? His name was Father Martin. In 1986, he was younger, probably in his early 30s, and he was still fit and trim back then. He had sandy hair that rested on his head like a mop and his eyes were dark and intense.

Each Friday, Father Martin would invite some kids to sleep over at his house. Both boys and girls were invited. When he was arrested, it was clear how clever he was in choosing the victims. There were usually seven or eight kids who were invited over. None of them would know each other, he insured that by making sure to choose kids from different school districts.

Of these kids, he would choose one or two to participate in a late-night "service" while the others would watch a movie or play games with the housekeeper.

I remember feeling elated when my parents told me Father Martin had invited me for the Friday sleepover. I thought it was some sort of privilege. I was even more excited that Friday night when Father Martin singled out me and this other girl, Andrea, to come participate in his service.

We followed him upstairs to his study. We actually did perform a short service but then Father Martin asked us to get ready for bed. Since there was a shortage of space, he told us, we would be sleeping in his bedroom that night. "Would that be a problem?" he asked innocently. Of course not, Father, we replied naively.

Andrea and I brushed our teeth together and then changed into our pajamas. When we came back to Father Martin's room, we expected to find our sleeping bags rolled out on the floor. Instead, we found Father Martin already in bed with the sheets pulled up to his chin. The sleeping bags were nowhere in sight. The room itself was terribly hot and dry, as if someone had turned the heat up to 90.

"Girls," he said, "I would be honored if you would share this bed with me. It's such a large bed and there's no reason for you to sleep on the floor with so much room on the bed."

Stupidly, we both nodded. We were about to get into the bed when Father Martin stopped us. "I'm not sure you'll need all those clothes tonight," he told us. "It's quite warm in here, don't you think? Why don't you both take off those pajamas and then get in bed."

We both hesitated. "You mean you want us to sleep in just our underpants?" Andrea asked finally.

"Nonsense," Father Martin said dismissively. "You should sleep naked. It's that way. You're both as innocent as Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. It's only natural to sleep naked."

After further coddling, Andrea and I both reluctantly stripped off our pajamas. We exchanged a nervous glance once we were in our underpants. I could see the look of dismay on her face as she tentatively hooked her thumbs underneath her waistband. Neither of us wanted to be there and we both would have given anything to go home.

"Come now, girls," Father Martin encouraged. "It's time for bed. Take off you underwear and get under the sheets."

Unenthusiastically, we took off our underpants. Andrea had the same body that I did, thin and slender, her ribs visible and her brown hair falling in ringlets to her shoulders. My hair was straight and blond but that was the only difference. Both our chests were flat as a boy's and our slits were completely bald.

"Come, come," Father Martin smiled as he checked us out. "Andrea, come over here... Vanessa, on this side..." He was directing us to either side of the bed so he would be in the middle. We slipped under the sheets, hoping to keep our distance from him, but he slipped an arm around each of us and pulled us tight.

That's when we got the final surprise. Father Martin himself was naked under the sheets. We both realized right away when our legs pressed against his hairy thighs and he drew us close to his chest. I immediately froze stiff as a board.

"You're both such pretty girls," Father Martin told us, stroking our hair. He positioned me so that my cheek rested against his chest, right next to his nipple. He did the same to Andrea on the other side and now we stared at each other miserably from across his hairy chest.

"Have you girls ever seen what a man looks like?" he asked us. Without waiting for a response, he kicked off the sheets, revealing his crotch. His flaccid cock rested on the bed of his dark pubic hair. I remember how it dangled like a snake across his lower belly.

"This is a man's penis," he told us, taking our unwilling hands and placing them on his cock. "It's only natural for girls your age to learn about male anatomy. Why, you're almost women yourselves, aren't you?" He kept up his patter of inane talk as he made us touch him. "Can you feel that girls? Can you feel my penis becoming hard under your hands? You can, can't you? It means I am filled with the seed of God. If I were a married man, it would be my duty to use this seed to create more children for God."

I could feel it becoming hard in my hand. I remember thinking it was strange for something to go from soft to hard like that. He was soon fully erect. It was big enough so that Andrea and I could both make a fist around it, me closer to the root and her holding the tip.

"Incredible, isn't it, girls?" he asked us. "Well done. Well done."

So saying, I felt him reach past my butt with his hand. His fingers ran along my crack for a moment before he slipped them between my thighs. I realized he wanted me to spread my legs. I complied reluctantly. I could see Andrea parting her legs as well.

He began fondling us. No one had ever touched me before down there. From the look on Andrea's face, no one had done this to her before either. Her expression was one of pure shock and dread. She was clearly uncomfortable and wanted him to stop. I would have liked to get up but his arm was pressing me tightly against his side as he molested me.

"Hold my penis tightly," he directed us. "Don't let go..." He was forcing us to hold his cock while he fondled us. Despite my discomfort, my body reacted naturally. I remember feeling confused by the feelings coursing through my young body. His touching was eliciting undeniably pleasurable sensations but I knew it was wrong of him to touch me. It was embarrassing enough of that Father Martin was touching me down there but it felt odder still to be staring at Andrea's face as he manipulated me. Her expression was blank now and I could tell she was processing the same thoughts as me.

My feelings of arousal grew stronger and stronger. I remember glancing at his penis and feeling a surge of unexplainable... excitement. It was a combination of the sexual naivety of my youth, the curious mystery of male anatomy, and Father Martin's fingers dancing in my hairless valley. I could feel his hot blood pulsing in his cock as I gripped it for dear life.

Looking back, I'm sure Father Martin had done this very often over the years, possibly to dozens of innocent little girls. I know because of the way he touched me. Even in my adult years, I've never been so expertly brought off by a man (or a woman). It didn't matter that it was non-consensual, it was almost like ESP the way he anticipated the needs of my body. His fingers were delicate but insistent, thrumming gently between my legs before retreating to leave me unfulfilled, my hips involuntarily thrusting forward in search for more. I remembering feeling the gigantic wave build and build until I was terrified of what would happen once it broke.

But break it did. My first orgasm slammed into me without mercy, combining fear and pleasure and relief all at once. I remember shuddering uncontrollably as my fist closed tight around his meaty cock. I hate him for being so clever into manipulating us. I know it must have been a fantastic turn-on for him to have this nine-year old girl clench his cock as she had her first orgasm.

When I finally came down, I opened my eyes and saw Andrea staring at me. I suddenly felt embarrassed. But turnabout is fair play. I watched as Andrea's face tightened and her eyes closed. I didn't remembering making any noise but now I could hear Andrea's breathing become harsh and uneven, like she was running in gym class. Being so young, neither of us knew the appropriate sounds yet. There was no animal grunting as Father Martin brought Andrea closer and closer to the edge.

Suddenly, Andrea's legs kicked violently as her muscles spasmed. She made a soundless O with her mouth, her face a picture of reluctant ecstasy. I realized how I must have looked as I watched Andrea experience her first orgasm. I saw her fingers turn white as she squeezed Father Martin's cock.

Then it was over. She opened her eyes, saw me looking at her, and her expression turned sheepish. "Good girls, good girls," Father Martin whispered, praising us. "Now you can do the same for me." He reached over to his bedside stand and pulled out a bottle of lubricant. He had us hold out our hands as he squeezed the cold K-Y into our palms. And then he directed us to return to his throbbing cock, instructing us on the proper motions.

We jacked him off together, me working the few inches near the root and Andrea handling his remaining flesh. His hands returned to stroke my hair, unmindful of my sticky secretions on his fingers. He held us tightly, our cheeks resting on his chest as we were forced to stare at his erection. Unlike us, Father Martin was vocal in his pleasure and he moaned loudly as our fists worked his cock.

"Yes, yes," he hissed. "Make me come, girls... Yes... Oh yes..." Father Martin threw his head back as he climaxed. Both being amateurs, Andrea and I were surprised to see his milky white fluid erupt from his cock, landing hot on our wrists and fingers. If he hadn't pleasure me first, I would have mistaken his moans for pain but I knew what he was feeling. Finally, his cock stopped pulsing and we were instructed to stop. I remember not knowing what to do as I let go of his cock, a sticky mess on me.

Father Martin was prepared, of course. He picked up a towel that waited on his nightstand for this moment and cleaned us both off. I wanted to go wash my hands but Father Martin turned off the light as soon as he tossed the towel onto the floor. Before pulling the sheets up, however, he gave us our final instruction for the night. Andrea was in charge of holding his deflating penis and I was told to cup his balls. I remember how they felt like spongy golf balls and how his scrotum was cool to the touch.

His male anatomy thus cradled by two young girls, Father Martin yawned as he stretched his arms. He sighed contentedly and we were soon listening to his gentle snoring. I imagine that, like me, Andrea too was staring into the darkness, feeling confused and frightened as she held his sleeping manhood. It would be a long time before either of us fell asleep.






Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions?
Enter your feedback here:

Please enter your name or email, if you want a response (optional):

Please enter your comments or suggestions: