Date: Sat, 1 Aug 2009 21:42:21 +0000 (GMT)
From: Sharon Pinder <pin121@yahoo.com>
Subject: Be Sure Your Sins Will Find You Out

Warning: This story is a work of fiction and contains descriptions of
explicit sexual acts between women.  If this type of content offends you or
you are under the age of 18 do not read it.

Author's Note: This story is the property of the author. It can be
downloaded for personal reading pleasure or sending to a friend, but if you
wish to re-post them at your own site, please contact the author for
permission.

Copyright 2008 Aug, All Rights Reserved.


Be Sure Your Sins Will Find You Out!

Chapter 1

OK it was wrong to have done what I had. Hell of course it was, after all I
was the vicar, a pillar of the community, and example to the world at
large! But haven't you ever been tempted to do something so out of
character? Just once to, forget the consequences, to break out of the
mould? Even if for just five minutes?  It gets so damned boring being Ms
Respectable, being the pillar of the community, the person people turn to
24/7 and plus it was a nice skirt, but way beyond that months mean. I
suppose that's where the thought first came from, and that gave me a buzz,
a touch of excitement. A dare, kicking the ruts damned walls! Yes I know
that's a feeble excuse, and yes I know vicars don't do such things, but I
had butterflies and felt alive, for once!

The shop, The Web, an odd name, had been easy to find, and was empty but
for me and one assistant. Julie must be have been a day of something.  The
sales woman was polite, and then left me to my own devices It was so easy
and the dress was secreted in the bottom of my bag as I smiled and gave a
friendly "bye".  I had felt a buzz, felt alive, even almost sexual. I could
imagine the head lines. 'Local Vicar shop lifts!

That was yesterday and the dress still looked as good on me in my own
bedroom, as it had in the changing rooms. I felt tinges of guilt, of shame,
and yes I knew I should go back and apologise, but it made me feel so
alive, so unvicary.


My life was the sheer essence of boredom at times. Simon, my hubby of 20
years, was a decent man, but so absorbed in his pupils. If he wasn't at the
college then he was ensconced deep in his study, preparing lessons for his
classes. We had two children Kylie and David, both in their teens and both
good kids. But god life could be so dull, so repetitive. One massive rut,
and at least yesterday I had kicked the damned ruts walls. Sharon had been
a bad girl, Now that was a turn on!

I made my way downstairs, admiring the fall of the skirts material, as I
walked. It looked and felt good. I scooped the the mail of the door mat and
walked into the kitchen. As the kettle boiled I sifted through the letters,
Bills, bills, circulars, bills and one unstamped letter. It was hand
written brown envelope addressed to The Reverend Mrs Denise Cawthorne,
urgent and confidential and was A3 in size. The hand writing and lack of
stamp threw me, and as the kettle clicked itself off, I slit the envelope
flap open. My had reached in and with drew a series of photos. Crude, a bit
blurred but they showed the content clearly enough. It was a series of
snaps that showed Mrs Denise Cawthorne, local Vicar, mother of two,
respectable pillar of the community,secreting a dress skirt her shopping
bag. Four photos that turned my buzz, my thrill into nausea.

How?  Who? Why? Three questions that ran through my mind. Why had I been so
stupid? I could feel my stomach turning as I realised what I had been
sent. That my little rebellion against life's rut, was known to someone
else. I looked into the envelope to see if there was an explanation and
caught in their was a small bottom was a typed note.  My hands shock as I
with drew it and read the words typed on it.

My dearest Vicar, you have been a such a naughty girl.  These are stills
are from a cam recording we have and thought it only fair to share them
with you. We hope you like them as much as we do, but naughty girls must
always pay a price. Imagine if the recording was on You Tube! A catchy
title maybe 'Vicar, Denise Cawthorne shop lifts'. Do you think that would
help your husbands headmaster or your flock find it? What would your Bishop
say? Maybe a series of stills on the church notice board? What do you
think? Don't worry, be a good girl and I think we can come to a deal.
Return the dress to the shop at 9.00 a.m tomorrow and we will have a chat.

Miss Sharon and Julie.

In that short paragraph my entire world fell apart. I could suddenly see
how foolish I had become. How boredom had driven me to seek an adrenaline
rush. A short term fix!  Some people bungee jumped. Me? I shop lifted. God
what had I done and why? The shame seemed to fill me and I felt the tears
welling in my eyes. If Simon found out, I would die of humiliation! What if
the kids were told, or it became open knowledge what I had done? The tears
now broke free of my eyes lids and began to run down my cheeks. As they
ran, my humiliation became unbearable, and I slid down to the floor, tears
turning to crying and then sobbing as I saw my entire safe, respectable
life fall to shreds for a cheap thrill. I lay in a head on the floor, my
beautiful stolen dress now crumpled underneath me, forgotten as I succumbed
to the humiliation and cried as I hadn't since I was a little girl.

I had bundled Kylie and David off to school the next morning, both
grumbling at 'mum's foul' mood. I tried to act normal, but those four
images kept coming back to the forefront of my mind. Those pictures just
would not go away. The pieces of paper were torn to shreds and flushed away
down the toliet, but forgetting them and the loosing the fear was a luxury
my mind would not permit me. It knew that somewhere the master copies
existed and how easy digital was to copy in these hi-tech days.

Simon had been adsorbed in his work last night, and after dinner had
vanished of to his study. I had felt him later climb into bed as I had laid
there feigning sleep. I was safe from any 'demands', that was all but a
monthly event. This months 'seeing to' had come and gone. As I ushered the
kids out of the door, he vanished once more into his den, coffee and a
plate of toast in his hands. He would be gone for the morning.

The high street was only a ten minute walk as I set off at 8.45 a.m, still
unable to accept that this was happening to me. Would the police be there
waiting, or could I just pay for the damned dress?  The cause of my woes
lay buried once more at the bottom of my carrier bag, hidden away as I no
desire to ever see the thing again.

My mind was refusing to behave and despite my efforts, was treating me to a
replay of yesterdays stupidity. I passed the library and my attention was
miles away as I passed my church. The notice board stood next to the church
yards gate and housed sermon times or parish notices. I am not sure why my
eyes scanned it in passing but what I saw brought me to a halt. Four images
of the parishes vicar, showing a scenario of shop lifting. God how long had
been there? In seconds the images were ripped off the board, stuffed into
my bag and my eyes gave the board one more check before I moved on. This
time my feet moved faster, and my make up smeared from fresh tears now
running down my cheeks.

The shop was half way down the high street, and the door bore a closed sign
on it. I stood in the door way unsure what to do next? A light was visible
through the doors roller blind, so I tried to door. It was of course,
unlocked. Stepping in, I shut the door behind me and looked round at the
empty shop. The two exterior display windows were backed so it was not
possible to see into the shop from the outside and with the door blind, I
was safe inside. I was hidden from the outside and this would nightmare, if
my own making must surely soon be over.

"Hello" my voiced croaked out, but only silence answered my enquiry. I
stepped further into the store, but found only more silence. "Hello" I
called once more. This time, my voice managed to sound a little more sure
of itself. The curtain to the rear half of the shop opened and the tall
blonde assistant from yesterday stepped into the sales area. She smiled and
looked me up and down. I felt as if I had been weighed and found wanting in
those eyes, and as if I had been mentally undressed.

Her eyes scanned me once more, but this time slower and they lingered
longer. Their stare had me looking at the ground in shame. Salty tears
tricked down my stained cheeks as the feeling of humiliation became
overwhelming. The blonde stepped closer, "Your quite a treat on the eyes
and I couldn't believe my luck when you became a common thief." Her hand
cupped my chin and gently lifted it"and now finally your ours" The word
"ours" confused me, what did she mean by it and who was the other half of
"ours"?  Was this black mail, would I be paying this stunning blonde girl
off? How would I do it without Simon knowing? The questions ran through my
mind, but no answers came to the fore.

She smiled as she continued. "In a way your right, this is black mail, but
no money will be paid by you my pet" Pet? The word filled my mind as I
analysed what she had said. Pet? What did she mean? But I could draw no
conclusions from the word. No money? That had to be good, yes? She walked
past me and I heard the latch slide down on the door. "Now my pet, strip
for me." her soft spoken voice spoken directly into my ear, as she stood
behind me. She walked round me and once again looked my up and down.  I was
confused, strip?

"You can either undress for me, or I can post a recording on You Tube.
Plus maybe send a copy to one of our local news desks, The choice is yours,
and when you have decided the sensible course of action, come through to
the back, but come naked, or don't, fucking, bother".  With that she walked
back past the curtain and I was once again alone in the shop.

Undress?  Strip? Naked? Those three words passed through my
mind. Realisation was dawning on me. This really wasn't about money and the
police weren't to be involved, This was about far worse. I turned to walk
away from this nightmare, to run through the door and flee. Maybe Simon
would understand? But even as these thoughts ran through my mind I knew
that was never going to happen.

I stood in that deserted sales area, my make up tear stained as my shaking
fingers slowly fumbled with the buttons to my blouse. I folded it and
placed it onto a chair by the counter. Was I killing time? Stalling? My
shoes and jeans were next as I placed them forming a neat pile. I was no
great shakes in the lingerie department and my hands reached behind me to
release the clasp to my plain white no frills bra. I was not well endowed,
but what I had were one of Simon s favourite parts of me. He didn't fucks
me often, but when he did, he would work on my erect nipples leaving them
red and sore.

I dropped the bra onto the pile and slid the panties down my legs. The blue
panties were wet, and for the first time I realised fear had made my
bladder leak a small stream. The thin cotton was damp from my piss, but
that barely registered, as I folded and placed them on top of the pile. I
stood there, naked, in the middle of the stores sales area!

(I wasn't in bad shape for my 45 years.) I felt my self shaking as I stood
there, from cold or fear, I couldn't tell.

"Are you coming?" a voice beckoned me from beyond the curtain? My feet took
stumbling steps forwards as Mrs Denise Cawthorne, Vicar, pillar of
community passed through the curtain and into a way of life she never
dreamt of or was capable of imagining.

The blonde was sat on the dining chair, her skirt pulled up, her panties
removed and her legs parted to reveal a smooth mound. Her right hand was
gently stoking her inflamed lips, her arousal evident by the wet sheen the
soft skin showed. My eyes were transfixed by the image of her playing with
herself. I stood as if a deer in head lights, my own nudity causing me to
redden, I could see her eyes look me over, and this caused me redness to
deepen and my humiliation to bring further tears back. My make up was
ruined beyond repair, but that was of no account as I willed my feet to
take me out of here. One hand was cupped over my mound, and the other
rested across my breasts, but that did nothing to make me feel less exposed
to those eyes.

She removed one finger from her wet pussy and sucked it, as if it was the
most delicious of lollies. As she sucked her own juices, she smiled at
me. Her other hand beckoned me over, and I obeyed with no notion of
disobedience. Dipping her finger once more into that swamp of her juices,
she stood and proffered the glistening finger to me. "Taste me" she
commanded. Her voice gentle, yet brooking no denial.

I stood transfixed, not moving, as her finger came closer to my mouth, I
breathed in her scent, her perfume of arousal filling my world from that
one finger. An odour that despite what I would have believed before this
moment, did not repulse me. Instead it seemed to stimulate me, and a reflex
action had me inhaling her scent deeper into me.

Her finger traced a line along my lips, before it pushed them apart and
slid into my mouth. My teeth parted to the tip of her finger and it entered
my deep into mouth. Now I could I could taste her from it. My body reacted
to the scent and I felt my tears cease, as new feelings filled
me. Butterflies filled my stomach, as I sucked the wet finger, taking her
odour deeper into my being. Simon had asked me to suck his cock, and I had
always refused his perverted requests. Yet here I was, naked as the day I
was born,sucking a total strangers fingers, and becoming aroused. I wasn't
so frigid that I couldn't recognise my own bodies betrayal, my arousal. I
tried to deny it, to scream the thought down in my mind, but I could feel
the first stirrings of my own wetness, my own desire coming to the fore.

Her finger was withdrawn, as it slowly slid out from my pussy mouth, and I
felt a sad loss as the blonde returned to her chair. She hitched her skirt
back up and her fingers once more stroked those swollen lips that glistened
with her pure honey juices. " You know if you refuse me anything, well you
know what will happen don't you?" she asked in a sweet soft voice. Her
words were accompanied by the sound of the sheer wetness of her pussy being
stirred by her finger.

I nodded, my feelings of humiliation coming to the fore once again, but my
eyes also transfixed by the wet flesh before me. "Good" She smiled. "You
have tasted my nectar from my finger, now I want you to kneel and drink
from the source". Had she really said that, and was I really lowing myself
to my knees? Was I really closer to her that wet pool of juices, and was my
senses swamped by the scent of her arousal.

Her finger withdrew, so I could see her for the first time close up. Her
mound was shaven, but I could see the smallest traces of blonde
stubble. But it was those wet, glistening lips that mesmerised me. I felt
her hand gently cup the back of my head and guide it towards it.  The scent
grew even stronger and my vision was filled by that wet flesh.

My tongue snaked out, almost eager to taste her. I had never sucked Simon's
cock, and the light on was as kinky as I had ever got. Yet here I was, a
wet haven before me, my tongue reaching out to touch it, to dine on
it. Almost eager? The tip touched her soft flesh and I drew her odour deep
into my lungs. My own body had become aroused by the situation I was in,
and I no longer baulked at the wetness my tongue tasted.

Chapter 2

She was taking to this as a duck to water. Water, that was funny
considering how wet she was making me. This had been such a beautiful set
up from day one. Plus it was going to get so much sweeter, my partner,
Julie, was making some rather nice recordings of these events with her
trusted camcorder.

We had both spotted the vicars wife a few weeks back when she was in the
local library. We find that library's make a good place to trawl for
respectable straight frustrated married women. Such wonderful creatures,
you can take them, entrap them and then totally corrupt them. You tend to
get all of life's respectable folk passing through those doors at some
stage during the week, and we would take turns to sit there, and watch the
fish swim into our net. The majority were not worth keeping and they just
swam on with their mundane life's.  But ever now and then, one worthy of
becoming a trophy would come into the area we had cast our net.

Denise was such a vision. She would turn any head, and as she walked
through the library, male heads would turn and study her figure. She was
stunning, something she had no notion of, and so so respectable. That made
her all the more desirable to us.

It was me who spotted her and brought the lovely vicar to Julie's
attention. But it was to Julie the task of drawing her further in would
fall. My darling Julie attended church the next week, and no the walls
didn't come tumbling in! The Vicar welcomed her to the flock and to her
husband. Julie looked so respectable, a nice two piece suit, perfect make
up, not to much, not to plain.

She had prepared for church while I watched from bed, and as she turned
from my lover into the image for pure respectability, well lets say she was
almost late for church and had a grin on her face as she left our flat
above the shop.

Julie had chatted away to Denise and Simon sensing a bout of 'girlie chat'
had made his excuses. Denise had whittled away about the usual banal girlie
stuff, things that comprised her universe, and we so dull to Julie. But my
lover had feigned interest, as a huntress should and explained that her
husband ( as if, its been many a year since my darling had ever let a cock
near her sweetness!) was away on business overseas. She had brought a
business in the local area and he would be joining her soon. The mention of
the clothes shop Julie owned brought the chat round to clothes. A feigned
shared interest, and a promise by Denise to pay a visit soon.

Julie made sure they 'clicked' and she knew that her web would soon seen
the delicious morsel of Denise enticed into it.  Julie also gathered an out
line as to Denise's family, her husband, his tastes, as well as her two
teenagers. All of which she knew would be of great service as the vicar
became ensnared.

The first step was always hard to foresee, and 9 out of 10 times was
unexpected. Denise had not let them down, the shop lifting had been a
delightful early treat. We had sometimes to wait a few months for a nice
juicy blackmail tit bit, but she had treated us to a bonus on her first
visit. Shopping lifting from a member of her own congregation. The naughty
girl! Catching her had not been luck. After all why would we not have cams
in our changing room. That way when things were quiet, we could watch our
clientèle undress and reveal their tastes in lingerie and admire them. We
even contemplated a web site sharing the best images, how delicious would
that be?

As my mind drifted over past events, I could feel the vicars tongue running
its tip along my wet inflamed lips, and could feel her breath on my
skin. God she was turning me to jelly, but then a straight girl tasting her
first pussy was my big thing. I looked down at the head between my thighs
and placed my hands on her the crown, forcing her deeper face deeper into
my wetness. I wanted all her senses to be of my scent and taste, I wanted
her to drown in it, to have it fill her universe.

I looked towards the curtains at the rear and even thought I could not see
its lens I knew Julie had been there since the start. Since the naked
victim had stepped into our lair.

The curtains parted and Julie stepped into the room, camcorder pressed to
her right eye, and still recording the scene before it

We had been together since our days at college, when we had discovered the
pleasures to be had in both our own bodies, as well as having others serve
us. We had shared both willing and the even sweeter nectar of the
unwilling. There was such a special joy to be had in a straight girl, to
see the tears course down her cheeks, to see her obey and watch as she
drank for the first time from the wetness of our pussies.

Julie's body had never lost its appeal for me, and the sight of her
matching black panties and bra, as well as hold ups and high heals, made me
want more and to press my vicar harder into my flesh. I could hear muffled
protests from her, but I just wanted to please my girl friend. But even
better parts lay ahead, I smiled at Julie and she returned the smile, both
knowing what now was possible.

Chapter 3

I had some lovely recordings of our much beloved vicar, her head deep
between my Sharon's thighs. I could only imagine what her parishioners
would say if they could see her now. Sharon smiled at me, as her light hold
on Denise's hair became harder ,twisting the long strands between her
finger to gain a firmer grip. There was a muffled yelp, as the vicars head
was pulled clear of that sodden pussy.  I could see the gleam of my lover
juices smeared all over that innocent, yet ruined face. Her eye make up ran
in river-lets down her checks, her mouth and nostrils were stained in their
first sampling of her own sexes juices.

Recognition crossed Denise's face as her eyes registered my presence, then
horror as she focused in on the camcorder. I looked from the stained face,
down towards those magnificent tittes. Maybe not pert any longer but still
things of joy to behold. Then down further, to where her thighs met. I
could just see the long strands of her unkempt pubic hair peeked out from
between those pressed thighs. We had some work to do, but a start had been
made!

"Hello vicar" I smiled, revealing in the recognition and humiliation that
filled that stained face. She said nothing, seeming stunned into a dumb
state. "Enjoying your brunch" I added, laughter forming the back ground to
my words. I adjusted the camcorder and set it onto a small tripod that had
sat unobserved on the desk. As I checked that its lens captured the scene
before it, Sharon twisted our new pets hair again, turning the look of
shock into a scream as I could imagine the strands straining not to be
pulled from from her scalp.

I walked towards our new pet, her eyes on having dropped from my face to
the black panties that drew closer. She tried to look away, but Sharon held
her firmly in place. Leaning closer she whispered into the vicars ears, "we
have such lovely pictures of you, my sweet pussy eating vicar, now be a
good pet and do as we require." Sharon smiled at me then added "I am sure
you have worked out the price of disobedience you would have to pay".  No
matter how many times we reached this stage in our games, it never failed
to turn me on, to a level that only my darling Sharon could raise me
beyond.

"Now show Mistress Julie what a good pussy eater you have become" Sharon
commanded our new pet and she stood, relinquishing her seat for me to
use. I parted my legs and Sharon lent down to kiss me, knowing how turned
on I would be. Her tongue slid into my mouth and for a long minute we
kissed, knowing Vicars eyes would be on us. As we melted into our kiss, I
parted my legs so the wet crutch of my panties was visible to the
vicar. "Now show me" I repeated the command as Sharon broke free of my
kiss, and make it good, your on candid camera" I laughed as I knew the
surprise and further humiliation that awaited her. Mistress Sharon's pussy
had been succulent and wet, mine was just as wet to, but not with the
honeyed juices she would expect. The curse was on me, and I could not wait
to see her face freshly smeared. To know it was captured on digital, and
that the next few hours would be the portal to a families degradation. What
was the Cawthorne family comprised of ? Teenage daughter, son and a
husband. The humiliation I knew had only begun and breaking mummy was only
the beginning.


A new series maybe? Feed back, as ever welcome.

Sharon x