This is a work of fiction.  If you have trouble with the boundary between
fact and fantasy, don't read it.  If the story codes following the title
freak you out, don't read it.  If I mis-coded drop me a note through the
author email link at ASSTR.  Do not under any circumstances forward this
file to anyone that hasn't specifically requested it.  In case you haven't
figured it out yet this is intended as *adult* entertainment.  Do not allow
it to be accessed by minors.  If you have inadvertently downloaded it in a
jurisdiction where such material isn't legal please delete it immediately.
Do not re-post in whole or in part without this notice.  Do not repost on
any "for profit" site without my specific written permission.  Copyright
2012 by Lizard69.

   Twisted Sister (MF, rape, reluctant)

   Lizard69



   Sister Angelica shuddered as once again the perverts hands began to
gently explore her naked body.  She was young, in her middle twenties, and
had only recently taken her final vows.  Her order was one of the few that
still required them to wear a full habit, although hers hadn't received
much wear lately.  It remained neatly folded with her plain white
underclothes on the dresser across the room, right where she'd left it two
days before.  Without her religious garb, the only thing unusual about her
was the shortness of her fine black hair.  She was of mixed oriental and
hispanic ancestry leaving her flawless skin a smooth golden brown, unmarked
by tan lines.  Her small firm breasts were perfectly proportioned to her
slender five foot, four inch frame.  Her tiny waist accented the curves of
her hard little butt and slim, well muscled legs.

   How naive she'd been two days ago!  She'd gone home to visit her parents
and arrived too late to catch a city bus from the Greyhound depot.  The pay
phone in the bus station was vandalized, so she'd parked her bags in a
locker, and gone looking for a working phone.  She'd seen plenty of working
girls in the bombed out neighborhood near the terminal, but no working
phones.  They'd done a good job of ignoring her, (and vice versa), until
she spotted the little girl by the van.  The child couldn't have been much
more than twelve.  She had to stand on the running board to lean into the
van and haggle over the price of her shame.  They must have reached an
agreement, as she was getting into the van when Angelica pulled her away.
She'd had her back to the vans open door when the child whore pulled a
knife.  Backing up in sudden fear and shock, she'd tumbled into the van
just as the pervert took off.

   She pulled her act together as the van went a couple of blocks, then
parked again.  Thinking he intended to let her get out, it caught her
totally by surprise when he grabbed her from behind and pulled her into the
vans cargo area.  Her struggle was over almost before it started as she
felt a sharp jab in her shoulder.  The drug he injected never fully knocked
her out, but it seemed to turn all her muscles to jelly.  It was hardly
necessary to slap the final strip of duct tape across her mouth, when he
was done with her hands and feet.  She lost track of how long he drove
around, either to confuse her about where he was going, or because he
wasn't sure himself.  Finally, he parked in a dark alley, and throwing her
limp form over his shoulder, entered what looked like the back of an
abandoned warehouse.  They took a freight elevator up four floors, and he
carried her down a hall into a large room that had been remodeled into an
artists studio.

   The drug was wearing off, but she nearly passed out again when he used a
cloth soaked in ether to clean the glue from the tape off her face.  He
laughed as she staggered towards the door when he ordered her to undress,
and allowed her to fumble with the lock until it finally dawned on her that
a key was needed to open it.  She didn't fight him as he led her back to
the corner where a bed and dresser waited.  When he ordered her again to
undress, she slapped him as hard as she could.  In her present state, the
blow was so weak it amused him more than anything else.  She'd led a
sheltered middle class existence before entering the convent.  So sheltered
she didn't even have a clear idea of what he might do to her, but the
thought of finding out scared her spitless.  He smiled as he reached out
and she felt a sudden jolt to her middle.  He'd nailed her right in the
solar plexus with a tiny stun gun.  She lay jerking and gasping on the
floor for some endless time, trying desperately to breath.  Just as she was
having some success, he nailed her again.

   She was wavering on the edge of consciousness and knew that if he zapped
her again she would surely die.  In that moment she realized just how much
she loved life, and that she would do anything, anything at all, to get him
to let her live a little longer.  Unable to deal with buttons or zippers in
her present state, she clutched the skirt of her habit with shaking hands
and began pulling it up.  He backed off, and by the time her legs were
fully exposed, she'd recovered enough to remove her head dress, and pull
the habit over her head.  When she was down to her bra and panties she
stalled for a time by neatly folding the clothes she'd removed.  All to
soon though, her last scraps of clothing joined the rest and she stood
helpless before him, trying futilely to cover herself with her hands.  He
reached out to cup the back of her neck and forced her to look into his
eyes.  She felt like a bird facing a snake as he offered her a deal.

   She could submit, totally and without reservation, while he used her to
play out his kinkiest fantasies, or she could resist.  Surrender would
allow her to have some voice, a small one, in what was done to her.  She
might even be able to talk him out of one act, by offering to become an
active participant in something she'd find less intolerable.  Physically at
least, she'd be in fairly good shape when he turned her loose.  Resistance
would only ensure that he used physical force to get what he wanted. 
Depending on how much of a fight she put up, she might not live long enough
for him to free her, or be so busted up she'd die where ever he dumped her,
before she could get to a doctor.  His voice softened and she almost
thought she saw a flicker of compassion in his eyes as he told her that if
she decided to submit, and later found him demanding more from her than she
could give, she could always change her mind.  If she fought until she was
so hurt she was unable or unwilling to resist anymore, submitting wouldn't
make her stop hurting.

   His hands had been so gentle when he grasped her wrists, that it was
only a moment before she gave in, allowing him to move her arms behind her,
and obeying his order to lace her fingers together.  She'd fooled around a
little with the boys she'd dated, but nothing heavy.  Now for the first
time in her life she stood fully, nakedly, exposed to a man.  She dropped
her gaze to the floor and began to blush as his eyes drank in the sight of
her.  She couldn't help clamping her knees tightly together as his hands
began to lightly caress her nakedness.  She closed her eyes to avoid
watching what his hands did to her, and found herself involuntarily
focusing on the sensations of being molested.  Soon her thighs were
cramping from the strain and aching so much she hardly noticed her nipples
hardening under his touch.  She must have blushed maroon when he quit
nibbling her ear long enough to order her to spread her legs, but she soon
had her trembling knees nearly a foot apart.

   That didn't keep them from clamping closed the moment his fingers
brushed her inner thighs.  He sighed, and told her that he didn't expect
her to throw off a lifetime of training in a matter of minutes, but if she
didn't find some way to show him that she was really *trying* to cooperate,
she was going to start hurting.  Glancing frantically around, she was
struck by an inspiration.  She snatched a pillow off of the bed, rolled it
into a thick cylinder, and wedged it between her knees.  She'd rigged it so
that no matter how hard she clamped down, his fingers could easily reach
her privates.  As a fingertip lightly parted her lower lips, she recalled
that only once had she allowed a boyfriend to touch her there.  The strange
sensation it had caused frightened her enough to make him stop.

   She was in no position to make this man leave her alone, she couldn't
fight him, pleading with him was useless.  She didn't know that the
exquisitely sensitive bud his searching finger touched was called a
clitorus.  She realized though that was what he was searching for when he
felt her jump, and zeroed in on the spot that had caused it.  The funny,
fluttery feeling that had frightened her before was even stronger now. 
Along with it was a tension, almost like a physical sort of anticipation, a
very eager sort of anticipation.  She found she was arching herself towards
him, and tried to pull back, only to feel his free hand slide down to her
ass.  She told herself it was his light slap and threat to spank her, that
made her thrust her privates shamelessly towards him, but deep down she
knew he'd just given her an excuse to do what she wanted to do anyway.

   She'd started out praying to be delivered from this degradation, then
shifted to praying for the strength to endure it.  Now she was reduced to a
steady chorus of "oh God", as sensations she'd never imagined surged
through her.  The tension finally broke over into a gut wrenching orgasm
that left her so wiped out, she was only vaguely aware of him carrying her
to the bed.  She began to blush again as she watched him undress,
embarrassed not so much by his nakedness, as by her hunger for the sight of
a naked man.  He noticed the way she looked at him, and smiled as he shed
his jockey shorts before lying down next to her.  He told her that before
turning her loose, he intended to have her in every manner imaginable, but
there was no hurry.  He invited her to look at every inch of him as closely
as she liked, to smell, touch, even taste him if she felt like it.  He
finally made it an order, allowing her to do what she wanted to without
feeling guilty about it.

   She'd been involved in back seat grope sessions with boys back in high
school.  She'd even given a couple of hand jobs, though it had hardly been
necessary.  The boy involved had been so turned on he came almost before
his fly was unzipped.  This was completely different.  She could see the
effect her hands had on him as she hesitantly followed his instructions. 
Also, this time she knew that what she was doing was foreplay.  His cock
was growing stiffly erect under her gentle touch and she knew there was
nothing she could do to stop him from forcing it into her virgin muff
anytime he chose.  Even if she stroked him until he shot his load, she
would still get raped, it would just delay the inevitable.

   She didn't have long to wait.  He ordered her to spread her legs, then
lift up so he could slide a pillow under her ass.  Only afterwards did she
think about how she must have looked arching her pelvis eagerly towards
him. Her pussy was still wet from her orgasm, but she felt him spreading a
large dollop of K-Y Jelly into her slit anyway.  She braced herself for an
assault that never came, as the thick head of his cock parted her lower
lips.  He put just a moderate preasure behind his thrust, nothing painful,
or even that uncomfortable, but every time she moved even a tiny bit, he
sank a little deeper into her.  She tried to remain as motionless as a
corpse, and felt him entering her with almost glacial slowness.

   Turning her face away as he buried himself in her to the hilt, she felt
the tip of his tongue tracing the shell of her ear.  She felt his weight on
her, and the hairy muscled *maleness* of him was overwhelming.  It occurred
to her that the child/whore she'd been trying to protect did this several
times a night, and she knew herself to be a fool.  While emotionally it was
scary and embarrassing to lose her virginity this way, her body was already
growing accustomed to the new sensations.  Her nipples were swelling
stiffly erect against his hairy chest, and her hips arching to meet his
long slow thrusts.  Her second orgasm arrived even quicker than the first,
as though her body was learning to expect such intense pleasure from the
things he did to her.

   Over the next two days she'd felt every opening of her body that could
stretch that far invaded by his hard cock.  She now knew the taste of a
man, clean, or covered with her own musky juices.  She'd learned the subtle
differences between d&s, S&M, and bondage.  She'd also discovered how much
of sex takes place between the ears instead of the legs.  The rape of her
body was a small thing compared to what he'd done to her mind.  After all,
he could only physically violate her for a short time before needing time
to recover.  The mental pressure never totally let up, making everything
he'd done into one long sex act.  He'd forced her to become dependent on
him.  In the first moment she'd fumbled to raise her skirts, she'd needed
his approval just to continue breathing.  From there on, she'd been buying
her freedom from this kidnapper, paying installments on her ransom in the
only coin he'd accept.  She'd needed his approval to know she was making
progress towards her release.

   She shuddered again as he gently played with her, and wondered just when
things had changed.  Freedom no longer mattered much to her.  She could go
back to the convent, or spend the rest of her life as this perverts whore.
What mattered was that he approved of her choice.  She captured one of his
roaming hands and watched him smile as she brought it to her mouth, licking
and sucking his fingers.  She smiled as seductively as she could while
guiding his hand to the swollen, puffy lips of her pussy.  She couldn't
help a few whimpers and moans as he slowly worked two fingers into her. 
She surprised him then by tightly crossing her legs, trapping his fingers
within her, and rolling to face away from him.  Reaching out to the night
stand, she grabbed a tube of K-Y jelly, and began working the slippery goop
into her ass hole.  He'd used plenty of lube when he'd raped her ass the
other times, but the way his cock had stretched her left her tender there
as well.

   She gasped as his stiff prick filled her ass again, then pushed his free
hand away from her breasts as he buried himself in her to the hilt.  He
held her tightly as he looked over her shoulder at her firm round tits. 
Her nipples were already tender from his abuse.  Now, while he watched, she
began twisting, pinching, and pulling on them until she couldn't bear to
touch them anymore.  Only then did she guide his free hand with both of
hers, gasping as his palm lightly brushed the swollen points, and the
fingers at her slit caused her hips to begin an instinctive rocking motion.
Her keening cry as another orgasm kindled within her turned into a screech
of brakes as the Greyhound pulled into the depot, and the lights came on in
the nearly empty bus.  She hoped no one noticed the way she blushed as she
grabbed her bag and stumbled through the station, humiliated by the content
of her vivid dream.  She saw the phone was vandalized and pushed aside a
vague uneasiness as she stashed her bag in a coin-op locker.  She was still
in a daze, when she wandered out into the night, wondering where such a
horrifying and erotic nightmare could have come from.  Not until she was
pulling the child off of the vans running board did she realize exactly
what was happening.

   The child whore was both annoyed and puzzled as she began trying to
solicit another trick.  That goofy do gooder nun had worn the *strangest*
smile as she tumbled backwards into the van.  
