Church Witness, Revised
Editor's cut - more flowery with furries implemented. Still the original plot and scene. If you enjoy this, then you've got a couple problems and I suggest councelling. I'm available weekday afternoons free of charge ^^
The Church Witness, Revised
by: 'God'..don't question me.
The church was dim as usual, save for the occasional percussion of several varieties of old-style instruments. Everyone was neat and proper, finishing their prayers with amen and the like. Most of the people though were elderly... here to give their last respects to such an earthly realm in hopes of a better afterlife. The sinners - how they cheat through life and expect to skate through those pearly gates like their sins were fully repent. What a waste of time, some thought.. Some being mainly this singular body, a younger girl of wolven decent. Much younger. Her flesh was untouched, marred only by the wrestling she used to do with her father before the accident, and she wouldn't have said a foul word before she knelt down in prayer to her Lord. She was a slave to the Bible's holy word; moreover, she was highly gullible.
Meet Cerulia, the average fur with the unaverage will to her Lord and the overaverage proportions to herself. Boys noticed all the time, and as she sat there on her knees with her hands pressed palm to palm, the elderly ladies scoffed her just as she scoffed them. She may have dressed like a schoolgirl, but she still looked like a whore. She couldn't hide it. She seemed to have 'fuck me' stamped somewhere on her body in permanent ink and could never find it even if she did hope to remove it. Sometimes this girl even prayed to look uglier when she woke up, so that she could further dedicate herself to her Lord without any outside criticism. But she knew self-mutilation with such purposes in mind would only make others drool longer when they stared at her half-beaten pelt.
One thing Cerulia hated was time. Oh, how she was so unprepared for everything that sifted her way. And how spiteful she got when church let out. The doors had to be locked in this neighborhood, and that meant that she had to eventually go home, just like everyone else. Sometimes the Pastor got onto her about how often she left him calling his wife to tell her he'd be late getting home again. Why the wife didn't attend his church sessions was beyond most people, but business of very few. No one questioned the Pastor, hold for Cerulia. She wanted a key to the church, and with it the responsibility to lock it up tight every night, in respects to her Lord. In english, she wanted to stay there and struggle to keep awake, then be at the doors when the morning rush came. If she had been around a few more days, maybe the Pastor would've been convinced to give her what she desired; after all, she was such a responsible girl. Oh, but those few days never came for Cerulia.
Time.. so little time, Cerulia thought quietly as the pastor slammed his holy book shut irritated as usual.
"Okay, Cerulia. It's that time again," he started, a lecture he could present to a full Sunday audience at this point.
"Yes, of course Pastor Gary, sir," was the response Cerulia gave to this, as she had similarly done every day for the past two years since the church was opened and Pastor Gary got assigned to work there. "I'm finished.. just thinking now. I apologize for thinking about the Lord on your watch, Pastor." She stood up and reached off to her left to grab her backpack.
"Have a nice night Cerulia. Do you need a walk to your car? It's chilly tonight."
"No sir. I parked my father's car close to the church tonight."
"You know it's been almost seven months since your father passed away, Cerulia," the pastor tried to be as polite as possible, if not for the fact he was speaking to a girl who's been through a terrible tragedy, for the fact that he was in the house of God.
"You're right, Pastor Gary. My dead father's car." Gary could sense the venom from this spiteful girl's tongue in her words. He shouldn't have corrected her. She turned her back and walked to the doors, eager to tough out the snow and get home quick. She had an omnipresence to talk to.
"Awe, Lord I accept this harsh weather as your punishment for the closure of your house, but realize I have no control over my forced exit." She crosses her body from shoulder to shoulder, head to heart with her fingers and nods solemnly as if His presence lingered before her very form here and now in a physical state. She begins to turn to the quiet street, but remembers the single street light above the church, and how a couple nights ago it eerily flickered while she walked beneath it. With a moment's hesitation and lacking any second thought, she took a step aback and turned the opposite way. This way's closer, she told herself, hoisting her bag up on her back again and clutching both straps like a camper hiking through familiar woods.
Turning a corner, Cerulia almost saw her car in the back entrance to the alley until a noise made her abort her course of action and about-face to see a cat fall off the unsteady lid of a garbage can. The lid's shift over the rusted lip of the trashcan is what made the noise, but what on earth startled the cat to begin with? It couldn't have been her passing through. Maybe it slipped. Ice and snow, right? she thought, holding back any doubt to her theories. She was always correct. If she wasn't she tried to think she was and prayed she wasn't sinning in her egotistical decree.
The girl continues on to the exit, when a splatter was heard. This time Cerulia freezes in her steps, worried now. A smart girl would have gone to her car and tried to forget it, but a curious God-protected catholic would about-face again. Of course Cerulia had to look. She turns to see in dim lighting the horrid corpse of a splayed animal, slashed from neck to groin across the belly, and instantly ceased of its life before her very eyes. Cerulia chokes down a scream as the tail of the cat still twitches in panic, nerve endings struggling to stay in contact with the dying brain of the poor animal. Seconds later her choked silence is interrupted with the dropping of something metallic. The murder weapon, she thought, forcing her body to regain movement and flee from the alley.
In her turn to the parking lot, a creak was heard. She was too deafened by fear to have heard it, but it followed with the fall of an emergency ladder, obviously loosened by the weight of the snow, and thus silenced upon the ground by such - only, on its way to clash with soft snow, it strikes a very thick skull and Cerulia falls gashed and bleeding to the ground, where she struggles to maintain consciousness. She had to get up. She had to run while she still could. She didn't even recognize it was the ladder yet, or aware that the building it belonged to wasn't of the church; her panicked state feared the killer had nabbed her. I'm doomed! was all the girl could think, her thick-furred tail coyly cupping her backside.
"Lucky strike," a dark, raspy voice echoed in the narrow walls of the sub-alley. A dark figure passed in front of the slain feline and kicked the blood-stained knife he used to gut it across the snow-covered cement. A soft scrape was heard as it shifted over the snow. Though it may have been muffled, the weight of the blade still carried some amount of sound as the razor sharp edge stroked the cement beneath it. The man was holding in black gloved hands a playing card: the Ace of Hearts, of which he gradually drew his tongue across, audibly creating a soft moan of sick pleasure in seeing the girl's fall, right into a perfect trap, set by God's Nature. "Your King must favor the darker half of society just as equally as those of a lighter nature." The shadowed man laughed under his breath, and flicked the card behind him. A soft splat heard as it landed on the bleeding entrails of the defiled cat poised atop the garbage can.
Cerulia whimpers in disbelief and struggles to get to her feet, hoping this criminal is like the sick killers in the horror movies, and allows her time to make a run to her car and perform the dropping of her keys in some panic-stricken worry during her attempt to unlock the door. "Please leave me alone," she manages to cry, almost in tears now.
The man grins wryly and stands deathly still over the fallen female. He tilts his head off to one side, resonating several small cracks, each symbolizing a single vertebrae snapping in his wicked column of a neck. The killer wasn't built as you'd imagine a predator to be built. He wasn't some ex-convict you'd expect to have busted out of the joint after two years of pumping iron. No, this predator was more unique; it preyed on the weaker ones due to his lack of ability in taking down stronger quarry. By his build it was evident he probably better enjoyed men, or even little boys, anyway.
Cerulia manages to flip over and stare the man in the face for the first time, and notices him reaching into his coat pocket. Another knife? A gun? An uzi!? He's gonna do me like he did that cat! she tries not to make so much as a peep, muzzle clamped shut tight for fear of a trigger being squeezed and making her rendezvous with God to be sooner than expected. After all that worry, her heart is lightened as the man reveals a pack of smokes.
"I'm giving that little fall my lucky." Even he was surprised of the wonderful timing. He didn't have to chase anyone this time. He stands over her, peeling off his leather gloves and pulling out a lucky cigarette and flipping it the way it was supposed to be packaged, sparking a lighter and enjoying a quick puff. The soft luminous glow of the lighter upon the singe'd tip of the cigarette brought certain rat-like features of his face into visibility. He kept a scarred, seemingly useless eye on her in hopes she'd still be too stunned and frozen with fear to run off while she still had a decent opportunity.
His luck held out, it seemed. Cerulia could do nothing but ponder what TO do at a time like this. She watched him take another drag, before blinking as he removed the cigarette and kneeled down before her. A long, rope-like tail passes over the ground off to the side of his body his cigarette was held in. It twitched slowly in expectation of her full cooperation with him. "Smoke?" was all she could hear the man say to her, and her mind was too dazed to comply. She simply shook her head a half-turn and breathed deeply, her heart racing in her throat.
The man pushed the cigarette up in her face, and at first Cerulia was worried about him forcing it in her mouth like he may do with other things, but even she couldn't think so cruel as to know his true intentions. He presses the hot ash up against her neck, right below her jawbone on her right side with his left hand, putting the cigarette out against the now-bare skin covering that portion of her throat.
Cerulia kicked and screamed, trying to pull away but only ending up backed against the ladder's cold bars. She finds a warm, sweaty brown hand instantly clamping over her mouth to silence her, and winces with each rotation of the man's fingers as he twists the cigarette back and forth into her flesh until it was entirely put out. Tears stream her cheeks as she closes her eyes, trying her best to choke down screams before she got tortured even more for her noise-making.
The man drops the half-smoked square to the ground by her side, and removes his palm from her mouth, stealing a kiss from her and molesting her tongue with his own. He quickly rips her blouse from her chest, breaking her bra in the process which leaves her teenage canid breasts, developed as they were and covered with warm, white fur, exposed for his amusement. He reaches over near the trash can and manages to grab an old phone cord, disconnected from its phone and phone mount. Wrapping the cord tightly around the young girl's neck, he takes a sadistic pleasure in tormenting her, choking her lightly and pulling it until she follows his simple tug as he lifts herself closer to his body. As she reaches up to grab his makeshift leash, he slaps her across the face, forcing another stifled cry from her mouth. "No no.. You'll obey," he says toothily, ordering her to submit to his will here and now. He stands up, hunched over and tugging on the asphyxiating phone cord until she follows him back to her feet.
While Cerulia knew she was in extreme danger, it was a slight relief to her to be vertical once again. She glances down at his feet noticing the knife in the snow, glad he was disarmed at least. She felt slightly safer than her situation in the snow. "What do you want with me?" she asks, trembling with fear, almost as if she had spoken without permission and was worried about receiving a beating. She wasn't a very dominant girl; her will was easily broken under such harsh conditions and she came quick to obey any 'master' that captivated her, religious or otherwise. God couldn't help her now, no matter how much she prayed. She shouldn't have been so lazy as to take the easy and unsafe way to her vehicle. "I deserve this," she murmurs to herself inaudibly, tears swelling up in her eyes.
"I want you to follow me; it's too cold out here," he responds, very soothingly compared to his past spoken words to this child. ...But too cold for what? He tugs her, expecting her responses to be much faster now that she knew how to act when dragged in any given direction. If her reactions were lacking in any way, she'd suffer the consequence of the 'noose' tightening around her neck even more. If she wanted to stay alive, she'd obey - but right now life seemed too bleak to want much more.
The man takes his posession into a shadowed indention in the corner of the church building - the same corner she passed without paying much attention to on her way to her car. Twisting what seemed like a sealed lock, he showed his captive that the lock put on this door wasn't firmly clasped, and could twist easily to allow access at any time. Someone forgot to lock it firmly enough, though it was probably too rusty to stay locked even if one tried. He unhooks the worthless lock and sets it on a crate next to the doorway. The door opens outward, and he guides her through the back entrance first, following closely and shutting the door behind him.
Cerulia was amazed that a stranger knew something about the church she's frequented for the past two years that even she had no clue about. It lead to a storage facility that looked like a keggery. There were a few empty barrels shelved on the back wall that had obviously not been used for quite some time. "Where are you taking me?" she asks, growing a little more accustomed to the idea he'd answer her questions quickly. She tried her best not to sound demanding with her words.
He fails to answer her and tugs the self-designed leash harder. She is easily pulled to him, and stumbles against his chest as he pauses for a second, catching her and wrapping his arms around her half-bare figure. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Keep quiet or I'll slit your throat and fuck the wound." He reaches over her shoulder and nudges what looked like a crease in the wall. The back panel opens, and the brightly painted church was shown. Cerulia was so aghast at everything she was learning in these fast few moments. She felt so insecure that anyone could break in and cause chaos in this sanctuary. The man grins and walks her to the alter, pushing her down over it. She winces as she was thrown over it, spreading her legs a bit to balance herself, her tail hiked in the air slightly, though quickly noticing how her odd position might catch certain unwanted interests from her captor.
Cerulia struggles to reposition herself, turning to face him and trying to squeeze her thighs shut again and blame it on the shivering she was experiencing through the temperature change, but as she makes her move to shift her legs, the man grabs her thigh and holds them spread. He steals another kiss, of which Cerulia gags upon, trying to force him off through her disinterest but to no avail. In the blink of an eye she feels him slip his hand up her skirt and rip her panties straight off her waistline, hoisting the rest of her garments up out of his way to expose that gorgeous virgin snatch she has been hiding. Fear strikes Cerulia again as she sees where this is leading, and she reaches up to grab the binds around her neck, but freezes mid-grasp remembering how he slapped her last time she tugged the cord from him. She stumbles again and grabs the corners of the alter to support herself, leaning back over it in an attempt to seek shelter from these actions in God's alter.
The stalker removed his overcoat, slowly loosening his belt buckle and working his clothing off just enough to expose his swollen cock and balls. It takes only seconds for him to convince himself that this was a good idea, and in an instant he pushes himself inside his bow-legged virgin toy. A scream resonates from her lips and he reaches up to grab a lock of her hair and pull it tightly. "Moan for me, Slut," he orders, pushing his thick, turgid manhood into her tight vulva. He jerks her head back more to expose her throat, and the cigarette wound he left, lowering his face to it and torturing the sore spot with the tip of his tongue, just for the pleasure of feeling her tremble around his cock in discomfort. His wiskers tickle the tender, burnt flesh as he pulls his head away from her.
Cerulia could barely pay attention to his words, much less carry out his request. Her lack of moaning must have made her rapist move to other methods of self-gratification. The cord got tighter and tighter around her neck. Now she couldn't help but slap her hands against the wooden alter, scratching her fingernails into it as she tries her best to follow through with his requests and get this finished as fast as possible. She cried deeply, staring up at the cross shown behind the impaling rapist as he had his way with her body. She wanted to pray, but she could hardly breathe. The more her body was used, the limper it became. Cerulia couldn't help but give in to sin for the very first time: through rape in the house of God.
Moments passed, and the creaking of the alter beneath her raped body was all she could hear. Even its sound was muffled. She wanted to choke, as her body tried to force more air into her hyperventilative lungs. The more she struggled, the weaker she became. Soon she could no longer see her rapist's face or the glistening cross above. She felt a hot cream gush deep inside her body, and her eyes fluttered closed as she murmured, "God..Yess..." Soon she lost all feeling in her body as the rat stripped off the rest of his clothing and tightened the cord all the way, ending his victim's life and taking her again before she cooled.
END
Now that we've determined we're dealing with a wolf and a rat, imagine what the rapist does to the body when he's finished and he wants a bite to eat. ;)
Email: [email protected] with any questions. If you'd like to see more of this, or more of different sexual-related work, don't hesitate to throw me some suggestions. I'll see what I can put together for ya.