She went straight to bed, almost ignoring her sister and her own son, until the following day when Barbara had gone to the hospital and Erik was in school for the day.
Alone, Betty Sue found it was easier to wallow in her shame alone. She savored her sin for all it was worth, trying desperately to erase from her memory the worst of it – that secretly she had thoroughly enjoyed herself.
The doorbell rang. Betty Sue got slowly from her bed and pulled her faded old rose-colored pink housecoat tight around her waist, wondering who could be calling on her at that time of day.
And as she opened the door, the burden of her sins seemed to grow heavier than ever, threatening to crush her.
"Oh!" Betty Sue said, astonished to see him standing there, "I… uh, didn't expect you, Reverend Donaldson."
"My child," he said, his voice large and booming, filling her living room, "the Lord always knows when the time is ripe." And he just pushed his way right inside the room, leaving her closing the door in confusion.
To push his way inside a room was very easy for the Right Reverend Doctor Billy Dean Donaldson. He stood a full six feet tall and weighed almost two-hundred pounds. At thirty-five, he was one Hell of a big black man. His black suit, topped by the white clerical collar, made him appear just that much darker, more omnipresent and ominous, like and angel making an unexpected check of Hell and discovering the sinners still well into their sinning and the fires going a bit untended.
"You do have need for my services," he said, "I can see it in your eyes. Relax, my child, and fear not, for He is with us both, even now."
"Oh, God," Betty Sue said, almost under her breath, but he was still able to hear her and to put two and two together, coming up with a little infidelity. The Reverend Donaldson wasn't one to turn down a little infidelity, not while he was still able to get it up to it. "I didn't think it showed. He forced me, actually, and… and… I just."
"There, there, my child," the reverend said, raising his hands in prayer but letting them fall, instead, upon Betty's shoulders, pulling her right in front of him. "I know how you must feel, with your poor husband in the hospital and all. That's why I came around, to pay my respects in your hour of need. You can imagine my surprise at finding you more in need than I had originally supposed."
"No," she said weakly. "It's nothing, really. I'm sure I can…"
"Nothing is nothing, child," he said, his voice booming and filling the room again. "I insist, in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, that you tell me of your sinful ways. Perhaps there is still time to save you and bring you back around to the paths of righteousness."
"It wasn't my fault, really, Reverend Donaldson," she said, beginning slowly, and then the words seemed to rush right out of her mouth, until she had almost told him the whole thing. "I was alone, and helpless, and he forced himself on me, pushing me down flat and… and cutting away my panties."
"Cutting!" the reverend said, astonished, but thinking about how exciting it was as a variation. The glint of hard steel off the knife blade would surely add excitement to the situation, he figured.
"Well, yes, he had this knife, you see, and he just… cut them off until my… my bottom, was bare to him, and my legs were spread wide and open and…"
"My child, just tell me the worst," he said, looking very benevolent despite the lust that was beginning to cloud his vision. "Did you, actually, have intercourse with this man?"
"Yes," she said meekly. "Rather, he had intercourse with me. I didn't do it. I wasn't…"
"Oh, my child," he said. "We must pray. This is evidently far more serious than I had supposed. But there is yet another way to salvation. We must remove all traces of this man's foul deed, we must… as it were… undo the thing he did."
"How, oh, Reverend, just tell me how," Betty Sue said, her eyes radiating faintly of hope reborn.
"Quick, we must go to your bedroom," the reverend said, leading the way by guesswork alone. He had never been in the house before, but he was soon standing in the center of the master bedroom, glaring down at the rumpled bed.
Meekly, Betty Sue followed him and stood mute, waiting for his instructions.
"You must do exactly as I say, my child," he said, "or else all our prayers will have been said in vain."
"Yes, of course," she said, "anything at all." The Right Reverend Doctor Billy Dean Donaldson, his saintly black face lighting up with passion, a faint trace of respiration dotting his forehead, his crotch filling his black clerical suit and making it tent out in front, reached out for. Betty Sue Swensen.
"This is the laying on of the hands," he said, "guaranteed to exorcise any leftover demons in your body from the devil's embrace."
And before Betty Sue knew what had hit her, she was standing starkly naked right before the big black preacher man, and a tingling had begun inside her loins almost like what she had felt when Dr. Montgomery's fingers had first explored inside her gaping vulva, only this time, Betty Sue knew, it was all different. After all, the reverend was her very own pastor, guardian of the entire neighborhood flock.
"Now you must tell me exactly what he did to you, my child," Reverend Donaldson said, "so we can undo it."
"Well, he pushed me down flat and spread my arms and my legs out," Betty Sue said, deliberately omitting the part about strapping them down solidly, about raising her legs into the examination stirrups.
"Like this?" he said, pushing her flat down on the bed and spreading her arms wide, then moving her legs apart as far as he dared.
"Well, yes," Betty Sue said, "only it was more like this…" and she raised her hips up as high as she dared and spread her legs achingly wide, knowing that the delicate lips of her cuntal mouth were twisted and distorted and pulled wide open, the fragile inner folds flexing in moist display, her sensitive little clitoris peeking out at him irresistibly.
"Oh, Christ!" the reverend said, gazing right down into heaven without either passing Go or collecting his two-hundred dollars.
"And then he just took off all his clothes," Betty Sue said, her imagination taking over her morals, "and he forced me to watch him do it until… until his old thing was showing and stretching hard."
"Uh, like this, was it?" the Reverend Donaldson asked, quickly stripping off his coat and his shoes, lug collar and his socks, his funny-shaped shirt. He opened his belt, his fly, and letting his pants fall to the floor.
He stood there wearing only a pair of white boxer shorts, and the stark difference between his very dark brown skin and the very white shorts was staggering. The gaping fly of his, shorts was open and Betty Sue could see his coarse wirey pubic hair poking through the flap.
His prick was obviously quite engorged. His tumescent cock pushed hard at the leg of the boxer shorts, just the tip end of his cockhead protruding beneath the edge of one leg. He was huge, there was no doubt about that, and deliciously chocolate brown all over. His shoulders were broad and powerful, and his biceps and pectorals spoke of the man's great virile strength. There was no trace of hair across his muscle-plated chest nor down over his trim waistline to his dipped-in navel.
"Oh, Reverend," she said, "he took everything off and forced me to look at his… at his…"
"It's okay, my child," the reverend said, unsnapping his shorts and bending forward, pushing them down his legs, hiding his crotch from her view momentarily, "you can say cock."
And he straightened up. And she saw it – his cock.
"Jesus!" Betty Sue said, the exclamation escaping her involuntarily, because the Right Reverend had a Right Reverend cock indeed. It wasn't as long as her Johan's, but it was definitely fatter, and the burgeoning purple-brown cockhead looked like a doubled up fist, it was so huge and shining moistly with a damp glow all its own, the darker lips flexing gently. A pearly white drop of precum, startling atop the dark brown knob, oozed gently out of his cock lips.