Faith and Temptation: Chapter Two

Her heels clicked softly as Allison Hayes walked past a small playground, crowded with laughing children and chatty, inattentive mothers. She glanced around, feeling eyes on her as she moved along the paved path, but it was just the usual suspects: several families, an elderly couple feeding the ducks, a young woman in headphones sitting on a bench. Nobody suspicious, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling.

Her long, modest skirt fluttered in the warm breeze, and she clutched her purse tighter against the simple cotton of her plain blouse. The man was gone, the one she’d noticed watching her earlier, but the sensation lingered. She knew it was God, seeing her shameful thoughts. He’d been watching, too.

“Men are vile,” she thought to herself, but the thought turned in her mind like a fallen leaf. “I’m vile,” it concluded, and she hated herself a little bit more.

A blonde strand of hair slipped from her ponytail and tickled her cheek as she walked. She was a good Christian girl. Or she was supposed to be. She would get there if she just tried hard enough, prayed hard enough, resisted hard enough. That was why she was at the park, why she was spending the afternoon alone and talking to God.

She’d spent enough time with other people. With men. Enough time letting them lead her astray and make her believe it was her own fault. Allison needed time to think, and maybe this time, she wouldn’t succumb to her body’s traitorous urges. Maybe this time, she’d walk past them without thinking.

Maybe, she’d even made it that far already. Maybe he was gone. Her faith wasn’t the only thing he was testing. “Thank you, Jesus,” she said under her breath, a whispered prayer. She turned to check the bench, just to be sure, just to assure herself she was safe.

And that was when she saw him.

A big, stocky man, wearing a hoodie and torn jeans. He had to be at least thirty-five. Maybe older. Allison didn’t get a good look, didn’t want to, but she felt his eyes linger on her body as she passed.

“Oh God, please,” she thought, but she wasn’t sure if it was a prayer to save her from his attention or a plea to receive it. She turned her head quickly away, pretending she hadn’t noticed him, pretending she hadn’t seen the desire in his gaze or the dark stubble shadowing his hard jaw. Her pulse quickened, and she cursed herself for her own weakness.

“Men are vile,” she thought again. “And I’m just as vile for wanting them.”

She needed to get away, get away from him before she did something stupid, something that proved her self-loathing right. Allison walked faster, quickening her pace as her sensible shoes clicked against the paved path.

She felt the chill of panic despite the warm spring sun on her bare arms, felt her face burn with something else. The man was behind her, close enough to grab her. Close enough to touch her. Close enough to see her weakness. She glanced around, but there were still too many people, too many children and young mothers. She couldn’t make a scene. Couldn’t let them see her shame.

So Allison kept walking. Her small hands clutched her purse tightly against the ruffles of her modest, blue blouse. She could feel the fabric dampen beneath her arm, feel her breathing grow shallow and urgent. The way it grew whenever she knew she was going to lose.

Allison turned down another path, heading away from the playground and further into the park. She was trapped. She was liberated. She’d finally been spotted by someone, and he was following her. His heavy steps echoed on the concrete, then grew louder as they shifted to the gravel of a tree-lined path. She could hear him, knew he was getting closer. Knew that if she turned to look, her knees would weaken and her faith would crumble.

Maybe she wanted it to.

“Oh God,” she thought, “Please don’t let him.”

But what was she asking for? What was she really asking? Her heart pounded as she walked faster, faster, finally running. His steps behind her quickened. She knew she couldn’t run from this. Not forever. She’d tried, and God had seen the whore inside her.

The path curved and opened up again, the bright sun blinding her for an instant, and she was sure that he was gone. That she was safe. Her pulse was a roar inside her head, a roar of relief. A roar of disappointment.

But it stopped short as a heavy hand grabbed her from behind, grabbed her ass, squeezing it through her thin skirt and shoving her forward. Her bag flew from her hand.

“Nice ass, slut,” she heard him growl.

“Please, don’t,” Allison gasped, but she knew it was useless. Her face flushed crimson, and her mind fogged as the familiar, terrifying, vile feeling spread through her. The feeling of not having to fight anymore, the feeling of her body knowing what it needed even as her brain screamed, “No.” Her skin felt electric where he touched her, and the pulsing sensation deep inside her spread like wildfire through her belly. Her pussy felt hot, wet. Her jaw went slack.

Allison’s breathing quickened with the dampening heat between her legs. Her knees weakened. The stranger’s breath was warm against her ear as he pawed her harder, pressing his entire body against hers now. His cock was like iron, an insistent presence even through his jeans and her cotton panties. She knew it would be different soon.

“Oh God,” she thought, “I want this.” She knew she was going to hell.

The man’s hands moved up her sides and then back down, pulling her against him as he grunted with each movement. She struggled, but she wasn’t trying hard enough. Wasn’t trying at all. She moaned instead, even though she didn’t want to. Even though she shouldn’t.

“Get off me,” Allison said, but her voice trembled, thin and unconvincing.

She pushed against him, hating herself for not pushing harder, but he was stronger. She needed him to be. Needed him to be as vile as she was. Her strength ebbed as her arousal took over, as his grip on her tightened. She was a ragdoll, limp in his cruel arms, even as she kicked feebly at him.

“I knew it,” he said, “Knew you wanted it.”

“No,” Allison moaned. “Yes.”

Her entire body shuddered, anticipation making her soft. “Please stop,” she told him. “Please, God, don’t.”

She felt her surrender as he pushed his hips forward, the hard promise of his thick cock pressing between her cheeks. The touch of it drove away all her resistance, all her piety, all her ability to fight. The world was slipping away, and she was finally, utterly free.

The bench appeared in front of her as he spun her, twisting the straps of her purse as it lay on the path.

She stumbled forward, her knees hitting the seat, then a large, rough hand planted itself between her shoulder blades, holding her in place. Her skirt flipped up as the man moved behind her. She could feel everything now, the warmth of the sun on her back, the obscene wetness of her pussy. She was lost.

Allison was a slut, and she loved it.

***

“Don’t stop, please,” she heard herself say. “Please don’t stop.”

The world spun as he bent her over a park bench. Allison knew she was lost. She was a whore. She was a slut. She was the vile thing she most feared, and the wetness between her legs proved it. Her faith was just a memory now, a passing thought.

“No,” she said, but the words barely escaped her lips. “Yes,” she moaned, feeling the surrender burn inside her.

The man shoved her down hard and forced her legs apart. His hands felt like magic on her skin. Rough, demanding magic. She didn’t want it to end, and the dampening heat between her legs told her it wouldn’t. Not soon. She would have this thick cock before she was finished. The stranger would fuck her, and she would love it.

Allison felt her pulse beat out of control, felt her breath catch in her throat as she spread herself wide, her fingers tight around the edge of the wooden seat. Her soaked panties betrayed her better than her words did, and he knew. They both knew. He’d have his way with her, and that was exactly what she wanted. What she needed.

He pulled her skirt up higher, tucking it into the back of her blouse, his grip sure and strong on her petite, writhing body. She whimpered as her exposed skin felt the sunlight, the sudden rush of freedom, the shame of having it all on display. The shame made it hotter, and she knew she wouldn’t have to fight much longer.

His strong hands roamed her small frame, feeling her yield beneath him, letting her know he was the one in control. Her cries of “No” were only a veneer over her desire, as thin as the cotton panties that clung to her and showed him how desperate she was, how filthy she was, how she was only resisting to make it hotter, to make it more sinful. They were nothing more than a soaked pretense. He tugged them down, a sudden, rough motion that left her damp and exposed. That left her ready.

Allison gasped as the cool air hit her pussy, gasped louder as she felt him spit on his fingers. He grabbed her hips, hard and demanding, and she shivered at his touch. Her body melted. Her mind didn’t matter anymore.

Then his fingers were inside her, wet and rough. He prepared her with swift, urgent motions that made her legs go weak, that sent shockwaves through her body. That made her press herself back against him, feeling how warm and wet she was. How sinful she was. She pushed harder against his hand, arching her back and feeling her blouse strain against her breasts. She’d given up. She’d surrendered. She’d won the thing she wanted most, the thing she wanted to be given. Taken. Her whole body vibrated as the first small orgasm rocked through her.

He felt it. She knew he felt it. “Tight little ass,” he grunted, “I’m gonna fuck it hard.”

“Please,” she moaned, “Please, oh God, please.”

The words hit her harder than his hands did. The shame and desire took her in the same moment, took her together, and she loved it more than anything. Allison’s cries grew louder, grew urgent and hoarse, the words barely more than a breath.

The man’s cock throbbed against her, pressed between her cheeks as he tore her open with his fingers.

“Fuck it hard,” she begged. “Please fuck it hard.”

Then he did.

Allison Hayes felt her body split in two, felt her mind melt away as the man rammed himself into her. The pain was sharp, exquisite. The pressure, brutal. The thickness of his length made her pussy throb, made her entire being stretch to accommodate it, made her vision blur.

It was everything she needed. Everything she was. The wet sound of his cock pounding inside her filled her ears, filled her world. She didn’t have to think, didn’t have to feel, didn’t have to be anything other than pure sensation. Pure, filthy sensation. She wanted to die, and it would have been perfect.

He held her hips as he rammed into her again, harder this time, faster this time, the first orgasm building. Then the second. It was better than her fantasies, better than she deserved. Allison cried out, loud enough for everyone in the park to hear, but there was nobody. Nobody but the stranger, and he knew how much she loved it. Knew she was just a slutty girl who needed a rough fuck. She was a Christian in name only, in thought only, and her thoughts were nothing. Her body was everything.

“Oh God,” she moaned, “Oh God, it hurts.” But she didn’t want him to stop. Didn’t want him to leave her the way the others did.

The thrusting length inside her proved he wouldn’t, proved that it wasn’t just the empty promise of her faith. She was crying. The tears in her eyes became tears of ecstasy. Tears of submission. The mix of pain and pleasure surged through her as she took him deeper. Her whole body trembled as she pressed her face against the wooden bench, her mouth open, her whimpers trailing off into a low, shaking moan.

The world was white-hot.

Gone.

The stranger pushed her legs apart, further apart, as he thrust in, as he drove her ass raw. The pleasure was so intense that she didn’t even have to move, didn’t even have to beg anymore. But she did. She did because she loved it, because the begging made it hotter, because the begging was all she could do. Her knuckles were white against the bench as he slammed into her.

“More,” she heard herself moan, “More, please.”

It came from somewhere deep inside her, some awful, vile place she didn’t want to admit was there. It came with the orgasms, one after another, faster, harder, until she lost count, until it didn’t matter. Until the only thing that mattered was his thick cock driving in and out of her.

The whole world melted away, and there was nothing but the brutal sensation of him fucking her ass, nothing but her muscles tightening as she came and came, nothing but the shameful need overtaking her. She heard his breathing grow faster, the man’s grunts becoming ragged. Her gasps and moans were barely human. She was pure pleasure now, pure animal need. Her hands ached from gripping the bench. Her voice was raw, hoarse, a low, wordless sound. “Oh God,” she moaned, “Oh God.”

Allison’s mind was empty.

She was nothing but submission.

She was nothing but sensation.

And then she was nothing at all.

The vile thing inside her burst as he fucked her harder. Harder. Harder. And then his cock exploded, filling her as his whole body shook. The stranger groaned, a deep, guttural sound as he came inside her, as he emptied himself into her stretched, quivering, welcoming hole.

He stayed inside her until the last violent thrust, and she moaned one final, breathless, “Oh God,” as the cum leaked down her thighs.

***

The vile thing inside her burst, and she felt the stranger cumming as hard as she was. She was a filthy girl, and she loved it more than anything. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. Her mind spun and faded to black as the man finished. He pulled himself from her sore, spent hole, his grip loosening on her as she slumped forward, her chest heaving. Allison stayed bent over the bench for what felt like an eternity. What felt like the best thing in the world.

She thought of nothing, just the beautiful, obliterating blankness of her submission, the nothing she loved more than anything. Finally, she straightened up, her muscles weak and aching. Her hands shook as she pulled up her panties, cum leaking from her ass and down her legs. Tears leaked from her eyes and down her cheeks.

The soreness inside her made her wince, but she didn’t mind. She hated herself for not minding, hated how much she loved feeling sore, used, broken. The stranger left her like the others had, left her alone and empty and hollow. She loved that, too. The stocky man was gone, but his cum leaked from her ass and down her legs, sticky and wet and perfect. A reminder of the only thing she really was. A slut. A whore.

And she was.

Allison didn’t try to deny it this time. Didn’t try to resist the feeling of the vile girl inside her. The Christian girl was just an act. A shitty, stupid act, and she’d been a fool to believe it. The world would see her for what she really was, and it wouldn’t care. The only one who cared was God, and even he had abandoned her, leaving her to face her sinful urges alone.

Alone was better. Alone was the best.

She slumped against the bench, barely able to keep herself upright. She couldn’t believe how much she loved this, how good it felt to give in. How right it was to have everything stripped away, to have the only thing left be her throbbing, fucked raw body.

A broken, perfect mess.

She thought of nothing for a long time. Felt nothing but the ache inside her, the leaking, shameful wetness between her legs. She’d lost it all, and she loved that. She was the worst, most depraved version of herself, and she’d never been happier.

Finally, she stood.

It felt like the hardest thing she’d ever done, her entire body sore and shaky. She barely made it to her feet before she collapsed back onto the bench, gasping for breath and moaning softly at the pain. The blissful, horrible pain.

She could still feel the stranger’s cock inside her. Could still feel him tearing her faith away, pounding her mind blank, leaving her nothing but wet and spent and ruined. That was what she was, what she’d always be. The pretending was finally over.

She told herself it was over, and she knew it was a lie.

Allison pulled up her panties, pulling hard against the soreness inside her. Her breath was ragged, her heart pounding. The cum leaked around the white cotton as she straightened her skirt, as she smoothed the wrinkles in her plain blouse. She felt herself weaken as she stood again.

As she realized she couldn’t hate it.

Her eyes were wet. Her cheeks were wet. She couldn’t tell which was which, but it didn’t matter. The man had given her a lot more than his cum, a lot more than the soreness between her legs. He’d given her what she was.

She was alone now.

He was gone.

She was going to hell.

She knew she was. She couldn’t stop herself from knowing. She tried, but it was no use. Allison Hayes knew herself too well, knew the sinful urges that would always consume her, no matter how much she pretended. No matter how much she prayed.

The realization hit her harder than anything else.

Harder than his cock.

Her knees trembled as she straightened her clothing, as she pulled her skirt down and wiped her eyes. As she brushed her long, blonde hair back into its innocent ponytail. She couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop loving the way her body felt, couldn’t stop hating herself for that.

She whispered, “Jesus, forgive me,” but the words meant nothing. Not anymore.

She wanted them to.

Her hands were unsteady as she picked up her purse from the ground, the straps twisted where the man had flung it. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything, and it was perfect.

Her body felt cold now.

The cool air against her wet skin made her shiver, made her want more, made her want the stranger to come back. To finish what he started. To break her the rest of the way.

But he was gone.

She was empty.

Her steps were unsteady as she walked away, cum leaking down her legs and the soreness inside her reminding her of the pleasure she’d taken, of the girl she was now. Of the girl she’d always been.

She checked for witnesses, expecting to see pointing fingers, expecting to see God.

But there was nobody. Nobody had seen her disgrace, her violation, her orgasm. She was alone, and it was the loneliest thing she’d ever known.

She hated being alone.

Allison left the park with a mess between her legs and a bigger mess in her heart.

Her body wanted more.