Admirable Faith

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*Author’s Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned.

This story does contain elements of drugging, nonconsent, as well as mild BDSM. Again, you have been forewarned.


The receptionist smiled and again offered Mercedes Scott coffee, water, or perhaps a soft drink. Mercedes was polite in refusing the coffee and the soda; her church frowned on the consumption of those beverages.

“And if I have water? I just know I’m going need tinkle and I’m already nervous enough,” Mercedes confided to the attractive woman.

“Now, what you got be nervous about, Sugar?” the woman smiled.

Before Mercedes could even think of a response, the telephone jangled. The receptionist punched a button.

Walters Security; how may I direct your call?” the woman chirped pleasantly.

The receptionist punched a button, spoke quietly into her mouthpiece, then nodded, as if the person on the other end could see her. She punched another button.

“Ms. Grady? He is on another call right now, but I can let him know you’re on hold. Or would you like to call back later?” the woman said.

“Yes ma’am,” the receptionist said and typed rapidly on her keyboard.

Mercedes knew she could type eighty five words a minute; Ms. Tripp at Lloyd M. Bensen High School in Sweet Oak, Texas had taught her well. But she was amazed at how fast the receptionist was typing.

“Yes ma’am,” the woman said and read back the information she’d been given. “Thank you, Ms. Grady and I’ll get this to him right now.”

She hit another button, then clacked rapidly on her keyboard. Mercedes smiled when the woman again made eye contact.

“How fast you type?” Mercedes asked.

“Hundred and five words a minute,” the woman smiled. “Was faster, but then they gave me this stupid ergonomic one. Kind of slowed me all down.”

Mercedes stood and approached the small desk the attractive receptionist sat behind. She peered at the split keyboard, with its beveled top and shook her head. She’d not seen that style of keyboard before.

“Supposed be better for your hands,” the woman explained, then suddenly punched a button on her telephone. “Yes sir?”

She smiled up at Mercedes. Mercedes was still examining the woman’s keyboard, leaning forward to do so. Her bodice gaped slightly and the receptionist could see the lacy top of Mercedes’s bra. She could just make out the tops of Mercedes’s pale breasts.

“Mr. Walters will see you now,” the woman said, pointing toward the hall. “Conference room one, first one on the left.”

“Thank you,” Mercedes said and tried to control her breathing. She had her resume, such as it was in a plastic binder and she forced herself to hold the plastic binder by a corner. She forced herself to refrain from clutching the binder to her chest. Whenever she did that, it wrinkled the paper terribly.

The resume was printed on an eggshell colored paper, with demi-gloss finish. It was just a little thicker than standard typing paper, but was not thick enough to be considered card stock. She’d selected the standard Times New Roman font, even though she liked the Sanserif font. But Times New Roman was a professional looking, clean font, especially in twelve point type.

Under ‘Education’ Mercedes had Lloyd M. Bensen High School, the school’s address and phone number and her GPA of 3.98. Under ‘Employment’ all she could put was her volunteer work with The Church Of Golgotha. She had the name of the church, the church’s address and telephone number, and the name and telephone number of Reverend James McCall.

“Come,” a deep male voice called out when Mercedes knocked on the door.

Mercedes again struggled to control her breathing and opened the door. A man she vaguely recognized was seated at the long table. His dark eyes looked at Mercedes, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Mr. Walters? Hi. I’m Mercedes Scott,” Mercedes said, entering the room.

William Walters gestured toward one of the chairs at the very end of the long conference table. Mercedes closed the door, then sat. She then pushed the plastic binder toward him. He looked at the binder.

“What’s this, Ms. Scott?” William asked, looking from the binder to the girl’s face.

“My uh, my resume, sir,” Mercedes said.

“Your resume?” he asked, picking the binder up.

“Uh, yes sir, I uh, when you called? You said to come in for an interview,” the girl said.

William smiled and opened the binder. He looked at the simple resume then looked at the young woman.

Mercedes Theresa Scott was a slightly chubby eighteen year old girl, with pale skin and carrot orange hair. Her pale face had only a few freckles; her mother was likewise a red head and had ingrained in her daughter the importance of slathering on a thick layer of sunblock every day.

Mercedes’s face was round, pretty, with intelligent hazel eyes, button nose, and Cupid’s bow lips. When she smiled, her Maltepe Escort teeth were small, even, white teeth.

Mercedes stood at five feet, one inch, and tipped the scales at one thirty one. Much of that weight was in her 32E chest and her bubble butt. Her legs were proportional to her height and weight.

Mercedes was dressed as the Church Of Golgotha dictated a proper young woman should dress; dress that went from throat to ankle, from wrist to wrist. William deduced that the dress was probably Mercedes’s best and smiled; she’d been a little naughty, a little daring and had unbuttoned the top button of the dress’s bodice. Even in her loose dress, William could see that Mercedes’s breasts were substantial mounds of flesh.

“You ah, you may have misunderstood me, Ms. Scott,” William said, placing the plastic binder onto the polished table top.

William made sure the binder was placed so that the right side aligned perfectly with the edge of the table that the bottom edge of the binder aligned perfectly with the lip of the table. He then pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and placed it exactly three inches from the lip of the table.

“I uh, I mean, when you called, I did wonder what I’d be doing here?” Mercedes admitted. “I mean, I really don’t know nothing about security.”

Then she wrinkled her pretty little face. Her eyes looked at William, studying him.

Even sitting down, Mercedes could see that William Walters was a tall man, at least six feet. She could also see the expensive suit jacket bulged with muscles. His brown hair was cut short; she could see a few flecks of gray woven in the brown strands. His eyebrow was a heavy one, over both eyes. His nose was a strong nose, ‘Roman’ in appearance. His mouth was curled up in a bit of a smile and the smile did reach his deep brown eyes.

His face and his hands were tanned; he spent time outdoors. His hands were well groomed, but not groomed to the point of looking feminine. There were wisps of dark hair on his fingers and the backs of his hands.

Mercedes clamped her legs together; she’d heard someone, some girl say that a man that had hands with hair on their knuckles had hairy chests.

“Church!” Mercedes suddenly said. “You used go to the Church Of Golgotha!”

“Mm-hmm,” William agreed. “Until Reverend McCall tried to tell me how much my ten percent should be. You’re Yvette’s kid.”

“Yes sir,” Mercedes agreed. “Yvette Scott.”

William tapped a key on his cell phone. From behind Mercedes, a projector began projecting images onto a screen. Mercedes looked as the face of Brandon Ellis appeared on the screen directly in front of her.

“Brandon Gary Ellis. Walters does security for Gary Aaron Ellis, Brandon’s father,” William said, swiveling slightly in his seat to peer at the projected images on the screen. “You recently attended a little get-together that Brandon hosted. Out at their lake cabin.”

William looked over and studied Mercedes’s face as the projector continued to show images from the Ellis’s lake house.


Brandon Ellis and Chance Porter gave each other a high five. Then Brandon looked over at Paige Moore. The brunette beauty smiled, nodded her head, then turned to face Mercedes Scott.

“Hey, BMW,” Paige said.

“Paige, quit,” Mercedes frowned. “My name is Mercedes, not BMW. Why you always got be like that?”

“Because she knows it’ll get a reaction,” Wendy said. “Quit responding, stupid bitch will figure it out.”

“What? Who you calling…” Paige snapped.

“You. Got a problem with that?” Wendy asked, getting to her feet.

“Any. Way. Mercedes,” Paige said, keeping a wary eye on the six foot two inch Wendy Sharpe. “What you doing tonight?”

“Nothing,” Mercedes admitted.

“Well, Brandon’s got this cabin? It’s on this lake; want come?” Paige said.

“You’ll be there?” Mercedes asked.

“Well, yeah,” Paige said in a tone of voice that let Mercedes know she thought that Mercedes’s question had been a stupid one.

“And your parents know? And they approve?” Mercedes continued.

“Yeah,” Paige lied.

“I’ll check with my mother,” Mercedes smiled happily.

The red headed girl and her mother belonged to a very strict church. As a result, Mercedes had ankle length red hair; women were forbidden the cutting of their hair. She wore no makeup; women were forbidden to ‘paint’ themselves. Recently, the church had relaxed their stand against slacks and blouses, but even so, the woman’s flesh was to be covered. So, on the rare occasion that Mercedes did wear tops and slacks, they were unfashionable, did not draw attention to her ripe young body.

And, as a result, Mercedes did not have many friends at the school. Paige was the closest acquaintance that could be called a friend, and even Paige was somewhat mocking, somewhat cruel to Mercedes.

Paige Moore and her mother and father were also members of the church. Bill and Juanita were not as stringent in following the teachings of the Church Of Golgotha. They certainly were not as strict with Anadolu Yakası Escort Paige, their only child.

Yvette did not realize this when she gave Mercedes permission to go for an overnight stay with Paige Moore. Mercedes changed out of her school dress and put on a comfortable top and some slacks. She also pulled her long hair back and put it into a ponytail. Packing toothbrush, hairbrush, and change of clothing, as well as her flannel nightgown, Mercedes was ready to go.

She rejoined Paige and her mother as the two chatted in the living room. With a hug to her mother, Mercedes followed Paige out of the house.

While Mercedes and Paige walked to the Moore trailer so that Paige could pack her overnight bag, Chance and Brandon were at the Burns & Burns Supermarket, buying a two liter bottle of fruit punch and a two liter bottle of Coca-Cola. They also purchased several snack foods.

“Fruit punch? Dude, FRUIT PUNCH?” Chance laughed.

“Yeah, Paige says their fucked up church won’t let them drink Coke,” Brandon chuckled.

“But it’ll let them suck dick?” Chance giggled.

“Uh huh,” Brandon smiled.

After paying for their items, the two young men walked across the parking lot to Brandon’s pickup truck. Troy Dempest, a Connelly College student waited, smiling.

“Gentlemen,” Troy said, nodding.

“Dude, you the man, you the man,” Chance said, nodding approval at the sight of the fifth of whiskey Troy had managed to buy for them.

“I uh, I’m not sure they say that shit anymore,” Troy smirked as Brandon paid him for the whiskey.

After packing her own overnight bag, Paige pulled Mercedes to the mouth of the clam shell parking lot of her trailer park. A moment later, Brandon pulled up in his pickup truck. Chance got out and opened the rear door for Mercedes and Paige.

“Yeah, you heard of Ellis Island?” Brandon laughed as they drove out of Sweet Oak, Texas, toward unincorporated Oakleaf. “This is Ellis Lake.”

“God, I got to hear that stupid joke every time?” Chance asked.

“Hey, BMW’s never heard it before,” Brandon defended.

“Mercedes,” Paige defended.

Mercedes smiled and reached out to clasp Paige’s hand. Paige smiled and clasped onto Mercedes’s hand tightly.

Mercedes was startled; Paige had the back of Mercedes’s hand tightly clasped against her right Brest. Mercedes could feel Paige’s lace bra through the material of the blouse, could feel Paige’s firm breast, could even feel the nub of Paige’s nipple against the back of her hand.

Paige held onto Mercedes’s hand for another moment, relishing the feeling of the girl’s hand against her breast. Then, she gave Mercedes’s hand a tight squeeze and released her hand.

They were now driving through a dense forest of pine trees. Mercedes looked around; she’d not been this far out of Sweet Oak before. In the late spring/early summer season, the trees were a vibrant color. The road had a light dusting of sand and clay; there had not been any rain for several days so they were creating a cloud of dust as they drove.

Finally, Brandon slowed and turned onto a gravel road. Mercedes looked all around as the asphalt highway disappeared from view.

After one more turn, Brandon stopped. Mercedes could see a tall chain link fence. Brandon lowered his window, reached out and punched a code into a box that stood on a post. The chain link fence slid open and they drove through. Then Brandon stopped again and punched a code into a second box. Mercedes watched through the rear window of the pickup truck as the fence slid shut again behind them.

The lake house was a square structure on top of several creosote coated posts. Each post had an aluminum collar roughly halfway between ground and building.

“Keeps snakes and rats from climbing up them,” Paige answered Mercedes’s unasked question.

“Snakes?” Mercedes shrilled.

“Haven’t seen any out here in years,” Brandon assured Mercedes as he opened the driver’s door.

Chance opened the passenger door and helped Mercedes out. He turned to help Brandon with the ice chest in the bed of the pickup truck.

“Uh, ahem? Going help her out, but uh, forget me?” Paige asked.

“Legs ain’t broke,” Chance teased, but did help Paige down.

“Butt hole,” Paige giggled and kissed Chance on his lips.

“Uh, ahem? Don’t need be kissing on him there,” Brandon said.

“Oh, shut up,” Paige laughed.

Brandon and Chance lugged the ice chest over to a concrete pad. Mercedes wondered how they were going to get into the house; it was at least ten feet from ground to floor.

Brandon pulled on a rope that dangled just at eye level and a metal staircase gave a squeak and groan, then lowered to the ground.

Brandon and Chance went first, lugging the heavy ice chest. Paige bade Mercedes to go next, then she brought up the rear.

Walking behind, Paige watched Mercedes’s plump buttocks flex and strain in her khakis. Paige could see the panty lines and felt her pussy get wet as she envisioned herself pulling those panties down, İstanbul Escort exposing Mercedes’s pretty pussy. She imagined gently biting down on Mercedes’s beautiful buttocks, even leaving a hickey on one of Mercedes’s full buttocks.

“Oh, and Paige? Got you that fruit punch you like,” Brandon said as he unlocked the door to the cabin. “BM, Mercedes? You like fruit punch?”

“Yes, thank you,” Mercedes agreed.

“Going love this one,” Chance giggled.

A murderous glare from Brandon silenced the giggle. Paige even gave Chance a light slap on his arm as she passed by.

“You did get it?” Paige whispered to Brandon as she got the two liter bottle out of the plastic bag.

“Uh huh,” Brandon agreed and showed Paige the vial.

“Mercedes? Want some punch?” Paige called out as Mercedes looked around the cabin.

The cabin itself was twenty by twenty. The door entered into the kitchenette and dining area. Just past the linoleum flooring that indicated the end of the kitchenette and dining area was an industrial carpet which indicated the beginning of the living room/bedroom. Directly across from the front door was a sliding glass door that looked out on the small lake and surrounding pine forest.

The living room/bedroom consisted of four couches, two on north and south walls.

Next to the first couch on the north wall was a small door. Paige pointed out that this was the bathroom.

“Always, always, always look before you sit,” Paige said. “Brandon and Chance? Have never heard of putting a seat down.”

“Putting a seat down?” Chance asked. “What’s that?”

Paige handed Mercedes a plastic cup filled with ice and red fruit punch.


William hit a button on the cell phone. He looked at Mercedes. The red head stared at the wall, at the frozen image of herself taking the cup of punch from her friend.

“I’m sure you didn’t see that, so let me back that up,” William said.

Mercedes looked from the frozen image to the handsome man as he tapped another button. He watched the screen, then stopped the replay. He hit a button, then hit it again, then hit it a third time. The image of Brandon and Paige got larger, then too large for Mercedes to see their faces, then so large that she could only see Brandon’s hand.

“And…” William said, hitting a button.

The video started again and showed a vial in Brandon’s hand. The vial was unscrewed. Then the video showed Paige’s hand, holding a plastic cup.

William zoomed out again and the video showed Paige putting ice and fruit punch into the cup.

“Nasty little cocktail they had there,” William murmured.

Mercedes sat, frozen in shock as she again watched Paige, her friend, giving her a doctored drink. She watched herself taking the fruit punch, taking a large sip of the far too sugary drink.


Paige also made herself a fruit punch, without Brandon’s drugs. Brandon and Chance turned their backs and poured themselves some cola and whiskey into their own plastic cups.

Paige watched Mercedes as the girl sipped the punch. After a span of about five minutes, Mercedes had drank more than half of her punch.

Brandon and Chance fixed a bowl of cheesy jalapeno popcorn, knowing it would make Mercedes quite thirsty. A thirsty Mercedes would drink more of the doctored punch.

“Oh, I love jalapeno,” Mercedes enthused and did accept the popcorn.

“Got four bags, eat all you want,” Brandon encouraged.

“Hey, Mercedes?” Paige called out. “Let’s see your tongue?”

Mercedes giggled as she stuck out her tongue. She knew that her tongue was now a vivid red in color. She then stuffed another handful of popcorn into her mouth.

That playful little giggle and saucy display of her tongue let Paige know Mercedes was already beginning to feel the effects of the drugs. Paige turned and kissed Brandon passionately.

While Paige and Brandon were sucking on each other’s tongues, Paige was reaching behind her, stroking Chance’s hard cock through his jeans. Chance reached around and fondled Paige’s 34C breasts through blouse and bra.


Mercedes gasped, scandalized, horrified at the blatant wantonness of her friend. She knew that Paige and Brandon had dated a few times. Paige had even confided that she and Brandon had kissed, using their tongues.

But to see that Paige had displayed such lewd behavior, right in front of her was just scandalous. Mercedes did not understand why she had not reacted to this display; it had happened only a few feet away from her, on the couch right across from the one she sat on. Surely she had seen this; it was in plain sight.

“Oh, it gets worse,” William chuckled drily, looking at Mercedes’s face.

“I didn’t even see that? Right in front of me?” Mercedes whispered, face flushed hotly.

“The drugs. But, like I said, Ms. Scott, it gets worse,” William said.

“I uh, please, call me Mercedes,” Mercedes asked, turning her attention from the sight of Brandon unbuttoning Paige’s blouse.

“Okay,” William smiled. “Call me William.”

“Yes sir,” Mercedes agreed, fighting against the smile.

Mercedes then turned to glance at the projected images and lost the smile as she could see that Paige Moore was topless, that Chance and Brandon were alternating between kissing Paige and sucking on Paige’s breasts and nipples.

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