It’s no mystery that I find the subject of blasphemy to be erotic. Not just for the fact that it’s taboo, but because it’s filthy. There is a part of me that knows just writing it will send me to hell, but I don’t fear that anymore. In fact, I’ve been told all the best people will be waiting for me. I guess I embrace my darkness more than I should.
Sunday morning mass is where all good little Catholic girls should be, but there was something inside of me today that felt like an itch. A full body itch. I knew it was coming at that very moment.
“Dave, I need a few hours this morning for church. Don’t schedule me anything, please”
Of course, he looked as though I had just slapped him across the face when I said church, but he could use some of it himself. Pimping out women night and day won’t get you through the pearly gates of heaven. Not that he would be headed that way in the first place.
The mirror holds all your truths and will not lie to you. When I stood in front of that full-length mirror in my room, I knew I was not dressed like I should have been. Shirt black skirt, silk red blouse, black stockings that were held up by a hope and prayer, and 5 inch heels. I should have stuck with the 4 inches, but I was feeling frisky. My hair would be pulled back into a bun, and make-up was a little darker than usual. Like I said, I have an itch.
The ride to the church didn’t take that long. I called a cab instead of driving myself today. When I am agitated. It’s best for me to not catch a case of road rage as well. 15 minutes after the ride began, I stood in front of St. John Catholic Church, and stared the building down as though it was the gates to hell. Shivering from the chill in the air, I entered holy ground like a serpent on a mission.
Linger back till the last minute, I dipped my fingers in the holy water font, my slender digits dripping with that sacred liquid.
“Father, son, holy spirit, amen.”
Bringing my fingers to my lips, kissing the tips, I followed the last person into that old church. Built at the turn of the century, the walls showed wear, but it was beautiful. Light poured in through the stained-glass windows illuminating the entire church. If you looked up, it was as though particles of souls lingered in the air. Of course, it was dust, but at times, I wondered. Were the souls of the lost littered in the ceiling of these hallowed halls, or was this an optical illusion to make those scared, think twice about their actions.
A seat on the end of the last aisle was the only available. Slipping in, my gaze still down, I placed the tatter bible the church hand on hand in my lap. Running my fingers over the leather bindings, I wondered how many held this before me. How many women sat in the same spot as I did, and felt the same itch I was being tormented by? A shiver of the souls before me ran down my spine. Many, I assumed had been tormented by the Devil. According the good book he was once an Angel who fell from grace. I believe in each soul there is good and evil, and the battle for power is our greatest war.
The hymns echoed from one wall to the next, the sounds of those word rocked me to the core. I was here for such deviant needs, and God was trying hard to wage a war inside the demons that dwelled inside of my body. Clenching my thighs, the core of my lust seeped to my silky red panties. Was I turned on by this music. For me, it was a symphony of porn being sung by Whores, Degenerates, Sinners, and Saints.
Progressing through this service, the time came for the communion. Lines of people stood in the aisles, all waiting to reach the front and accept the blessing. The Priest stood there in his robe, his words repeated over and over as he placed the small cracker particle on the tongues of his parishioners. As I stood at the end, I wondered what he thought of them. Did he laugh inside at a few?
“You won’t be saved.”
“God see those marks on your arms and the bruised on your face.”
My attention span always did drift off when I was bored. My Mother claimed it to be ADHD, but the Doctors wouldn’t medicate me for it. They said I was a normal child and would outgrow it all. I never did. I still have an overactive imagination. Hence, the reason for my visit to church today.
Finally, my turn, I was the last one, and this not being my home church, I wanted to see what would happen if I pushed my limits. Holding the offering over me, he asked me the question, and though I should have just said Amen, opened my mouth and accepted, I couldn’t do it. A voice I didn’t know erupted from my lips, degrading this poor Man.
“I want to suck your cock and have the juice of Jesus forced down my throat!”
I said it. His face fell to an ashen color, looking as though he was staring into the face of the Devil herself. Was I? I often thought of myself as Lilith. A succubus who lives to mate with men and kill them in return. Though I have no desire to kill, I did want to feel this Man inside of me. Not in the spiritual way, but the physical. Dismissing me after the offering was in my mouth, I didn’t stop to think till I sat in the last row again. Wondering what he though, I knew the moment he spoke. With a quivering tone, the Father excused himself and the choir finished out the service. I was half way out the door when a firm hand on my shoulder stopped me.
“The Father wants you in his office, NOW!”
A Nun stood there, her face the victim of years, she gave me the impression that if I didn’t do it, she would force me to. Being the good Catholic I am, I followed her down that long dark wood halls. Have you ever noticed that churches have a certain smell to them? Incense filling my nostrils with a pungent odor of Frankincense, the last door would be my destination.
“Father Damien, the woman, she’s here.”
Her voice was stern, but she left the moment I was introduced. Motioning with one hand, the Man whom I insulted called me into his small office. It was maybe 14×14, but that was normal for most office spaces. With no words, he motioned for me to sit in the solid oak chair across from him, I won’t lie. In was a little scared. I had stuck my foot in my mouth out there, and not he was going to scold me for it. I don’t know how long I sat in silence, but it felt as though an eternity had passed me by.
“Do you still feel comfortable with those words you spoke out there? Or now, do you feel as though the walls can’t protect you?”
Standing, he walked around and perched his ass on the edge of the desk. His robe was now open, and I could see he was aroused. I am a fucking idiot, or am I the very one who would find out what his cock tasted like? Maybe a little of both if were being honest here. Biting down on my bottom lip, I tugged the little pillow into my teeth, chewing on it till the copper taste filled my mouth. I knew what I wanted. I had this horrible itch that demanded relief.
“I’m not scared of you. I said it there, and I will say it now. I want to feel the juice of Jesus down my throat.”
Shaking his head, his hand went to the front of his slacks, the zipped inching down one tooth at a time. Not one to waste time, I slipped from the chair, my hands in my lap, and resting on my legs waiting. I was going to suck this Priests cock while the sound of church being released was a faint reminder of where I was.
“May I Father?”
Asking, I was going to do it anyway, but his hand to the back of my head, pushing that thick head across my tongue showed me he approved. Forcing my mouth down to his groin, gagging was initiated half way. Father Damien was a man after all. He wouldn’t be able to resist the new Mary Magdalene who tempted him. Wrapping my supple lips around the head, the tip of my tongue flicked back and forth over the thick mushroom head of his cock. He tasted good, but I felt as though there was someone watching me. It could have been all those crosses hanging on the wall that bore holes in my spine.
A firm yank back on my head, and we remained connected through a thin line of saliva. He watched my face like I was shit on his shoes, but that didn’t stop him from forcing his cock right back down my throat. Greed, lust, and envy, I am sure he was breaking more sins, but those were the first I thought of. My nostrils flaring each time he pushed down harder on my head, I forced tears to run down my cheeks in horror of choking.
“Suck my fucking cock your diabolical little whore. Fucking bitch coming into the lord’s house and begging for his seed. You shall rot in the pits of hell.”
Harsh words coming from a Man of the cloth had me reaching for the floor, digging my nails into the hard wood, and moaning out in fear. What is the flooring opened and minions of Satan pulled me down to the fire pit below me? I feared that. I knew it would be placed in the hands of fate, but I feared that more than anything else in the world.
Tangling his slender digits in my hair, ripping a few strands from the roots, I screamed out, but my cries were muffled by his cock. Vibrations from my throat against the head sent this man of a spiraling journey that ended with a shot of cum pouring into my stomach. It tasted so foul. So, repulsive. It even smelled unpleasant when he shot the heavy, sperm laden stream into my throat. Fire and brimstone was the first thing I thought of. Weird things go through your mind when you know you’re playing advocate to the Devil.
“Drink that shit, you’re a filthy slut. Drink it all.”
Though it made my stomach retch, I did as I was told. I drank down his cum, regretting this itch that brought be here. No sooner had he came then he zipped and walked around to the other side of his desk to take a seat. Flipping through his date book, he arranged for a baptism for me. He said that he would contact all the local Priests and have them come to witness, and to deliver their own word of the lord. I think he is Father Darkness and I have just been recruited as the Devils whore.
Evil eyes upon me, I shook my head, took a note card with instructions on when to return, and ran from that church like a whore that had been caught. I’m scared to say the least, but there is no way I can back down now, He already marked me with him brand. The cum that sickened my stomach, but forcing myself to vomit did not rid me of the curse. I would carry his mark till he was done with me. I can only pray it will be soon.©