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Bound for Glory, Part 1
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
From kaiwan.kaiwan.com!rahul.net!a2i!bug.rahul.net!a2i!infoseek.com!uunet!in1.uu.net!news.tele.fi!nes.csc.fi!news.eunet.fi!anon.penet.fi Sat Nov 18 23:40:01 1995
Message-ID: <[email protected]>
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: [email protected] (Phil Phantom)
X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories
Organization: Anonymous forwarding service
Reply-To: [email protected]
Date: Thu, 16 Nov 1995 01:47:35 UTC
Subject: NEW STORY "Bound for Glory" (fMMMMF)
Lines: 612
Xref: kaiwan.kaiwan.com alt.sex.stories:97247
WARNING!
The following story is an uncensored sexual fantasy
involving practices that are illegal, immoral, socially
unacceptable, and messy. Only mature adults with a
firm grasp on reality should venture further. This
story promotes nothing, and nothing in this story
should be taken seriously. Readers are cautioned not
to attempt any of these acts without professional
guidance and a net. If you are underage, stand,
move away from the console, and unplug the computer.
Reading stories like this can make you go blind.
If you are a servant of the Lord, looking for sinners
to convert, study this story and memorize it. This
will help you recognize sinners when you see them.
Good luck, and avoid mirrors!
Phil Phantom
"Bound for Glory" (Part one of six)
By Phil Phantom
Annabelle Maryweather pulled her daughter along the busy train
station platform, searching for car number nine. To her, the
Great Depression appeared to be a boon to train travel. Everyone
seemed to be going somewhere, and going by train. "My Lord, I've
never seen Clairmont Station so busy. There it is, Catherine,
hurry."
"Mother, we're not late. Please, stop pulling. I can't run in
these stupid shoes."
"I want to see you properly settled. This is a big step for a
young lady of fifteen, going all the way across the country by
herself. Someone will need to look after you, and the Lord will
provide. We have to give Him some time, though. I'm sure the
good Lord doesn't like being rushed anymore than you do."
"I don't see why I have to have someone looking after me. I can
look after myself. I'm not a child, Mother."
"You are a child until I say you're not, or until you have one,
and that won't happen until I say. Keep moving your feet, not
your mouth."
One minute later, they were inside car nine, looking for
compartment six. People crowded the aisle that ran along the
right side, going in and coming out of rooms that could
accommodate six passengers. Annabelle forced her way along,
dragging Catherine behind her. "Here we are." She opened the
door, looked in, and saw two men seated in the room. "Excuse
me."
She stopped the conductor and said, "I'm afraid there's been a
mistake. My fifteen-year-old daughter, Catherine Maryweather, is
traveling alone to Sacremento, California. I specifically
requested a women's berth. Number six is a man's compartment.
That simply won't do."
"Lady, we only have seats on this train. You bought a standard
fare ticket. We don't have men's or women's anything, not even
rest rooms. She'll be fine, don't worry."
"Well, I beg to differ. My daughter will not be sharing quarters
with men for three days. Surely you must have more suitable
accommodations for young ladies traveling alone over such
distances."
"Lady, number six is suitable. It's not a sleeper, but it does
have pull-down racks. We're pulling out in five minutes. I
don't have time right now to be shuffling passengers. After we
get underway, I'll help her find something better, but one's as
good as another if you ask me. People move in and move out all
along this line. I could put her with some nuns right now, but
they might get off in Pittsburg and the Dillinger gang might take
their place. Put her in six."
"Look, we are a good Christian family. You look like a fine
Christian man. Would you please take Catherine under you wing,
see that she is in good Christian company at all times, check on
her often. I'd be so grateful."
"I would, but I leave this line in Pittsburg. Wait, as I recall,
there's a reverend in car seven. He's on his way to China or
some place like it. He could see her to Sacramento. Try
compartment four or five in car seven."
Annabelle turned to Catherine with a smug smile, saying, "See,
Catherine, the Lord provides for his own." Turning to the
conductor, she said, "Thank you so much. I'll see that the
Norfolk & Western recognizes your service. Come, Catherine."
Annabelle peeked in compartment five of car seven and saw five
men. "Excuse me, gentlemen. I understand a servant of our Lord
Jesus may be in this compartment. Who might that be?"
John Stewart Masterson, alias Gabrial Honeycut, alias Slick
Stewart, alias Reverend John Cunnylicker was anything but a
servant of the Lord--a servant of the state of New York, Rhode
Island, and Texas, yes, if they could get their hands on him.
John had a list of charges that covered every offense from child
pandering to grand larceny. He stood, doffed his cap, and said,
"The Reverend John Cunnylicker, Madam, at your service." The
other men chuckled.
"How dare you affront me with that..."
"Madam, my name causes me more embarrassment than you, I assure
you. Unfortunately, it is my Christian given name, and the
cross I bear. In my family's fatherland, Austria, Cunnylicker is
a noble name meaning keepers of the sacrament. Only here is it a
profanity. I'm on my way to Asia where I can serve the heathen
masses without the snickers. How may I help you?"
"You don't look like a preacher to me."
"I'm traveling incognito. Got my Bible right here." John pulled
out a leather-bound King James Bible from his jacket and showed
Annabelle the front and back.
Annabelle was only slightly pacified, such an outrageous and
profane combination of words she'd never heard. Still, with the
conductor yelling, "All Aboard" she had little time for lectures
or for listening to family histories. She said, "Will you step
out here, please?"
John stepped out and saw Catherine. She looked a vision of
feminine loveliness and virgin purity in her finest Sunday dress
with fashionable lace-up high heeled ankle boots. Out of habit,
he surveyed her young body, liking the package. She looked
fourteen, but her body looked sixteen. She had the curves of a
voluptuous woman on a small scale--standing five two, in three-
inch heels. She had a child-like look, but large blue adult eyes
and full red lips without benefit of makeup. Her long, straight,
silky, blond hair was tied back with a ribbon matching the wide
satin belt on her dress. John tipped his cap to Catherine,
smiled, and said, "Reverend John Cunnylicker, servant of our Lord
Jesus Christ, at your service."
Catherine giggled. Annabelle wasn't amused. She was especially
upset by the way John ran his eyes over Catherine's breasts and
legs, even peering behind her to check out her ass. Annabelle
shot him an angry look about his visual exam, but said, "Must
you use your last name at every opportunity? Wouldn't Reverend
John be more appropriate when introducing yourself to a young
lady?"
"A Cunnylicker I was born, and a Cunnylicker I'll die. It's the
Lord's name for me, and I shan't hide in shame. I am a keeper of
the sacrament, and we Cunnylickers are a proud family."
"All Aboard!"
"Oh my! Look, this is my daughter, Catherine Maryweather. She's
only fifteen--a minor! She's on her way to Sacremento
California, Glory to be exact, traveling alone. We have kinfolk
in Glory, and she is to minister to the needy there. She needs
the protection of a Christian man, someone who will minister to
her needs--her spiritual needs. I beg you look after her, keep
her from harm, and guide her along the path of righteousness."
"Madam, I am honored. John Cunnylicker will answer the Lord's
call and guide this child as though she were my own. I will have
a flock of one, all the way to Glory."
Annabelle leaned in and whispered, "Will you please not say your
full name in her presence? I beg you. She may know what that
word means. Frankly, I don't think you're a preacher at all, but
I've little choice."
John spoke loud and firm, "Who and what I am is between me and my
maker. You may choose to believe or not believe. Frankly, I
don't give a twit. As a preacher or as a man, I can deliver this
child to her destination, but I will tolerate no disobedience. I
will gladly undertake that calling, but she'll mind me, or she'll
receive harsh and instant retribution. We Cunnylickers tolerate
no impudence from young girls. Spare the rod; spoil the child."
Annabelle scowled indignantly, "I'm certain Catherine will give
you no cause to discipline. She's been properly raised to mind
her elders and has never required corporal discipline. We do not
believe in beating our children."
"That may be, but when young girls with sexual hormones flooding
their veins get away from strict parental rule, they tend to go
wild. I must have your authority to discipline Catherine as I
see fit. I do believe in corporal discipline. I believe
strongly in it, even for the most minor and seemingly innocent
transgressions; and, for young ladies, that discipline should be
liberally applied to their naked skin with the hand or a belt as
the offense warrants."
"Good Lord, what kind of preacher are you?"
John pulled Catherine's back to his front and held her firmly by
the shoulders, pinning her arms tightly to her sides with his
knuckles digging into each boob, saying, "I am a preacher who
knows how to control young girls like your Catherine. She'll toe
a very thin line with me, Mrs. Maryweather. You may rest easy on
that score."
"You will not lay one finger on my daughter. Do you understand
me? Not one finger!"
"Suit yourself, but she'll be on her own. Now, if you'll excuse
me."
"Wait!" Annabelle placed her hand on John's shoulder, gently
turning him back. John followed the pull in such a way that
Annabelle appeared to be bringing him back to Catherine. She
quickly drew her hand away, as though John's shoulder burned her.
John slid his hands down Catherine's front to her pelvic bones,
stooped to bring Catherine's ass tightly to his groin.
Annabelle's distraught eyes followed the man's hands as she
implored, "Reverend, please. I beg you in God's name. You are
my only hope, unfortunately."
"I must insist you grant me the right to discipline without
restrictions or limitations."
"All Aboard. Last call. All visitors must leave the train."
Annabelle's eyes dropped to see the reverend's loins slowly
undulating in an obscene grind against her daughter's ass.
"Reverend...I..." Annabelle took in the outrageous sight of
adult male fingers fanned over Catherine's lower belly, all
pointing to her crotch, pulling hard against his own.
"I insist. Unrestricted authority from your lips to her ears."
The train gave a lurch. "Well..." said the reverend,
Annabelle stared hard at Catherine's lower belly, then said, "Oh
my." She continued to stare as his fingers massaged their way
closer to her daughter's pubic mound, made apparent by the
tightly stretched material of her dress. Slowly, with her face
burning red, Annabelle's eyes came up to Catherine's eyes. She
said, "Catherine, he has my complete trust and authority to
administer discipline as he sees fit. Mind him, Catherine."
The Reverend put a harder grind into his pelvic press and said,
"On her naked skin."
Annabelle immediately looked down and saw that the reverend's
finger tips had moved lower, making the turn over the mound,
bunching the material between Catherine's legs. "Oh dear! Oh,
all right."
"Tell her! Make it clear to her that I may strip her naked if I
think her punishment warrants that."
"Catherine, he has total and unrestricted authority to guide and
discipline as he sees fit, even on your naked skin. He may even
strip you totally naked for your punishments, so do not give him
cause, or I will hold you accountable. Reverend, I will also
hold you accountable should there be no cause."
John's right hand firmly cupped Catherine's crotch. His left
went up and grasped the surprised girl's right breast, squeezing
the firm mound into distortion. Annabelle's jaw dropped as John
said, "As you can see, your virgin daughter is in capable hands.
I can feel a devil hiding between her legs, but I can beat that
devil out of her. Hurry, Annabelle, you're running out of
platform."
Annabelle turned to see the station moving. She moved forward,
mindless of the two hands still groping her daughter, and said,
"Do as he says, Catherine. Any sin will be his. Just pray."
She kissed Catherine on the cheek, then rushed to the open door.
She hesitated, then jumped awkwardly, missing the end of the
platform by inches, falling in a very unladylike end-over tumble
in grass and sand. John peered out the window with Catherine and
said, "Nice knickers."
Catherine suppressed a giggle, but a stifled gig escaped. She
turned to face John when he eased off the firm but exciting hold.
She eyed the mysterious man with the mischievous gleam in his eye
and decided he was no preacher. She also decided he was quite
handsome--tall, dark, rugged, but with nice white teeth that
could form a devilish smile, and best of all, he had a very big
cock.
She loved the way he stood up to and humiliated her mother. For
that, alone, she had warm feelings for him. She liked the way he
took control. He examined her like a piece of property, staring
at the parts the men back home avoided looking at. She
especially liked being firmly touched, molded, squeezed and
turned this way and that. She wanted her trip to be an
adventure, and the journey was looking good at the start.
After he released her and stepped back, Catherine smiled
demurely. The reverend said, "Sorry, kid, I tried to help you
out. You didn't appear to want to go on this trip, but your
mother obviously was intent of getting rid of you."
"Well, you needn't worry about taking care of me. I can take
care of myself."
"I doubt that. This train is full of horny men with nothing to
lose. Your naked and abused body would be lying alongside the
tracks before this train hit the continental divide. No, your
mother left me in charge, and I accepted that responsibility.
You're not much better off with me, but I will deliver you in one
piece, somewhere. In the mean time, we will try to make this
journey as pleasant as possible unless you give me any shit."
"I promise, I won't be any trouble. I certainly won't give you
any shit. I will do whatever you say, Reverend John
Cunnylicker." The word Cunnylicker rolled off smiling lips.
His smile broadened. "You'd better, or your cute fanny will pay
dearly. Is it true you have never had a bare bottom spanking?"
Catherine assumed an affected childlike innocence, and with a
mischievous twinkle in her eyes, said, "Good heavens, no. That
would be horrid. Would you actually bare my bottom and spank me
for the most minor and seemingly innocent transgressions?"
"I would, and if I thought you might profit from it, I might bare
all of you. Sometimes baring the bottom isn't enough. What do
you think of that?"
"I think I shall be very good and do exactly as you say, but
innocent transgressions may be my undoing."
"I asked what you thought of that--of baring yourself publicly."
Her expression became serious and critical as she said,
"Publicly?"
"Yes, publicly. Humiliation is a key factor in the discipline of
young ladies. Females can bear pain much better than males."
"I don't know about that, but I do know about humiliation. Look
what I have to wear."
"Catherine, you are evading my question."
"I'm sorry. I think baring myself in public for a beating will
be very humiliating, but what choice would I have? My mother
gave you the right strip me naked. You must decide where and
when. I'm just a little girl who does what she's told, Reverend
Cunnylicker."
The train was now well underway, and no one would be getting off.
He knew the passageway would be quiet for a while as passengers
settled and the conductor checked tickets. John's smile grew
more devilish. He said, "What are you wearing under that dress?"
"Petticoats, panties, a bra, stockings, and a slip."
"There's a rest room at the end of the car. Take them off. This
train gets hot. Take those boots off, too. You can go bare
foot. You'll be more comfortable."
"But, Reverend, this dress can't be worn without under clothes.
The material is too sheer. I can put on other clothes. I didn't
want to dress up, but mother wanted to make a good first
impression."
John took a handful of the hem and examined his fingers through
the gauze-like material, satisfied that he could make out his
fingerprints. "I said wear the dress, only the dress. Remove
the sash, too, then return to the compartment."
"I will do as you say, Reverend, but I will be as good as naked."
"That won't offend anyone in our compartment, and you'll be cool
and comfortable. Do as I say, Catherine, or I might bare your
cunny and spank it before our fellow passengers just for the
entertainment value. A girl like you needs her cunny spanked
once in a while, just for good measure. You do know what your
cunny is, don't you?"
Catherine blushed. "Yes."
"Show me where your cunny is."
Catherine looked around, then pointed between her legs. "Here."
"I said show me, not point."
"I don't understand."
"You don't understand, show me your cunny. What word don't you
understand, Catherine? Are you being impudent with me?"
"You want me to show it to you out here? Someone might come
along."
"You are trying my patience, young lady."
Catherine looked both ways, then, with resignation, hiked her
skirts and petticoats. She then pulled out her panties so that
he could see down them. John looked, but angrily said, "All I
see is a hairy crack. I said show me your cunny."
Catherine took a deep breath, then pushed the panties down and
stepped free. She lifted her skirts high and jutted out her bare
loins."
"You are trying my patience, young lady."
Taking no chances, she sat at John's feet, rolled back, and
spread her legs as wide as the cramped space allowed. John got
down on one knee and peered between her legs. "Now, use your
finger to outline your cunny so that I know that you know exactly
where it is."
Breathing heavily, Catherine used her right index finger to trace
around her cunt lips, going below the hole and above her clit.
"Now show me the clit." She did so by pulling her lips apart and
touching the excited nub with her right middle finger. "And show
me where a man puts his cock when fucking a cunny?" She pointed
to her hole. "Show me where it goes, don't point." She inserted
her fingertip and ran it around the inside of her slick hole.
John stood with a smile and said, "Only a wicked girl would know
those things, Catherine, but I will drive that wickedness from
you before we reach Glory, rest assured. Put your dress down and
close your legs, you nasty child. Have you no shame? Run along
now. Don't dally."
Catherine blushed and struggled to her feet. She picked up her
panties, then ran down the length of the car. She had difficulty
undressing in the tight quarters, but eventually stood naked
before the floor-length mirror, examining her form. She cupped
her full mounds and squeezed, puckering the conical pink nipples.
Her right hand stole to her crotch. She ruffled the light
covering of pubic curls, then slipped her index finger into the
groove, saying, "Miss Cunny, I think you're in for a rough trip.
Reverend Cunnylicker just might live up to his name, and his real
name might be John Cuntsmacker. I know that doesn't bother you,
you shameless hussy, but I'm not sure I'll be leaving this train
a virgin. Mother did say we had to do whatever he said, though.
We must mind our elders."
She slipped the dress on and studied her reflection. As she
figured, her breasts showed through, the dark pink nipples,
especially. She pressed the material to her thighs and peered
down. "Oh my, they can see you as well, Miss Cunny. Damn, it is
true. I may as well be naked. How can he expect me to ride this
train with people who can see everything I have? He'll drive
them crazy. He'll drive you crazy too, won't he? Don't you
drive me crazy. I'm supposed to be an innocent church girl. I'm
sure the reverend would rather molest an innocent church girl
than a hot-cunted hussy."
She stood and turned to view herself from the rear. "Does he
expect me to hide my private parts? Or does he want me to show
them off? I would think he wants me to show them off, otherwise
why would he order me to wear the dress alone. He knows how thin
it is. I think no matter what I do, he'll find fault just so he
can discipline me. He sure seemed eager to get me naked. Mother
saw that. I'll bet she's fretting now. Serves her right."
She faced front and smoothed the dress to better see her cunt.
"I hope he fucks me. Yes, I said fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I
hope they all fuck me, and I hope they leave me with child.
Would you like some company in there Miss Cunny, besides my
fingers, that is. You want a real man's cock, don't you, hussy?
I know you. You were hoping someone would come along that
passage way while I had you out. You like getting out, don't
you? I think you'll be getting out a lot more by the looks of
things. Who cares? We don't know any of these people, and it's
a sure bet none are going to that desolate hole in the wall,
Glory. Well, here goes."
John returned to the four men in compartment five, took his seat,
and announced, "Gentlemen, fortune has smiled upon us. The good
Lord has come through and answered our prayers. We are about to
be joined by a vision of loveliness the likes of which you've
never seen. She's fifteen, alone in my charge, on her way to
Glory, and so are we."
Marve Porter, a middle-aged dry goods clerk on his way to Saint
Louis said, "What gives, Reverend?"
"You'll see, but to make this journey interesting, you gentlemen
follow my lead. Do any of you have qualms about tickling the
fancy of a minor?"
Harvey Greenglass, a reporter going west, sat forward and said,
"Not one damn bit, Reverend. You lead, I'll follow."
Blake Edwards, an attorney returning to Indianapolis, said, "Have
you been given guardianship?"
"Absolute and unrestricted authorization to guide and discipline
as I see fit. The child will verify that."
"If she does, I will support you--in court if need be. I am
curious, though, her mother didn't seem the type to grant you the
type of liberties you are alluding to."
"Yeah, well her mother has her own kinks. I practically molested
the kid right in front of her. She didn't say a word about that,
and I dare say I could have slipped the kid some pork and she
would have still remained quiet. That bitch is one big bundle of
repressed sexuality, just waiting to blow. It's just too bad she
didn't come along. I guarantee, this train ride would have
proved most interesting."
"Harvey said, "That bitch was finer than frog hair."
John said, "Yeah, and nothing winds my crank like a pious bitch
when she cuts loose."
The quiet older man in the black suit said, "I am Judge Krammer
of the third district in Denver. I have known women like that;
I've had them in my court. I do not doubt that what he says is
true. The reverend made his intent clear to the woman. Her
silent acceptance was as good as her blessing. I can't afford a
scandal, but I support what you gentlemen are up to if I read you
correctly. If we all take a solemn vow to support one another, I
don't see how anything negative can befall us."
John took out his Bible, held it out, and each man placed a hand
on it. "Each of us here swears to abide by my authority over
Miss Catherine Maryweather, and will support me in the direction
I choose to mold and guide her character. Say amen." They all
said, "Amen", then John opened the bible, took out a silver
flask, and said, "Now, we seal our oath with a shot of bootleg
bourbon whiskey."
The men had a good laugh and a good shot. Shortly afterwards,
the door opened slowly, and young Catherine Maryweather entered
with her two bags. The men sucked in their collective breaths.
John took her ticket from her, stuffed the bags under his seat,
then introduced her traveling companions. While she offered her
hand, they took liberties with their eyes. John sat, leaving
Catherine standing uncomfortably in the center of the small room
with her back to the window.
The space between John and the judge was empty, but Catherine
waited for John to offer the seat to her. She fought the urge to
hold her hands over her crotch, and kept the white knuckled fists
stiffly at her sides.
John let his friends study her body, delighted that the mid-shin
length dress hid little. Her bare feet were a nice touch as
well. He liked the fact that she did not presume she could sit.
Her subservient demeanor, standing erect but with eyes downcast,
putting her body on display as was clearly his intention, told
John he had a kindred spirit in Catherine Maryweather, one with
considerable acting ability, a bold and adventuresome spirit, and
a mind in tune with his own.
He thought a bold demonstration was in order, but first, there
was the matter brought up by the attorney. John said, "A
question was raised as to the scope of my authority over you,
Catherine. Tell these gentlemen what your mother said before
leaving you in my charge."
Catherine appeared reluctant, but softly said, "My mother said
that the Reverend Cunnylicker had total authority over me. She
said that I was to do anything he said, or I would suffer any
discipline he might choose."
Blake Edwards said, "Gentlemen, I suggest we write her statement
down, have her sign it, then get each man to sign as witness. I
think we should each have a copy to protect ourselves."
Judge Krammer said, "I agree. You never know what outlandish
things this child might say about our conduct. People might
believe one small girl against five grown men."
Blake took out a pad and pencil, handed them to Catherine, and
asked that she write what she said. Catherine did so, then Blake
made five copies that each man signed in witness. When that
lengthy formality was done, and all were sitting back, admiring
Catherine's body, the door opened and the conductor entered,
saying, "Tickets."
He took one look at Catherine, then looked to John. The two men
exchanged wry smiles. The conductor addressed Catherine, while
punching their tickets, "I see your mother found you a suitable
chaperon to see you safely and soundly to your destination." He
looked around the small room. "You appear to be in excellent
hands, so I see no need to be checking on you as your mother
requested. It is customary for passengers who don't wish to be
disturbed to offer a gratuity. I wasn't sure you gentlemen knew
that custom."
John said, "I'm quite familiar with it. Five dollars should
cover it."
"Ten."
"Seven-fifty."
The Judge interceded, "Gentlemen, let's not quibble. I'll cover
the difference. Everyone pitch in a buck, and I'll put six."
The conductor took the money, then went up to Catherine, reached
under her dress, cupped her sex, and said, "You have a pleasant
journey, sweetlips."
His finger slipped inside her wet pussy, then rode out through
her cleft as he departed. The bold contact with her cunt was her
first by a foreign finger, and she never felt anything so
wickedly delightful. Her mother was obsessive about modesty, and
kept her under tight wraps and close scrutiny, being most
suspicious of Catherine's own father, a respected elder in the
church. The men gawking at her body were the first male eyes to
see her intimate flesh, as the conductor raised her dress high in
parting.
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