Drenche
Posts: 3
Joined: 10/12/2010
Status: offline
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Seriously, don’t read this if you are sensitive about your religion. Ignorance is bliss, and both are just a mouse-click away.
I like the idea of mixing religion, guilt, and sex. It amazes me that the Catholic Church continues to promote a uniform for their young women that is so sexually suggestive it appears in every major fetish catalog. Notice no one wants to see strippers wearing the more functional Girl Scout outfits. I like to imagine a Priest with a wicked erection punishing a uniformed collegiate schoolgirl, supposedly for her own wanton ways.
Perhaps he's noticed her crush on him for a month of Sundays, and she often dallies after the others have left the morning Mass, smiling timidly and trying to impress him, sometimes asking how she can be more useful. She realizes today will be different when as soon as they are alone, he interrupts her candle snuffing by asking her to lock the doors of the church and return to her seat.
Confused, she locks the heavy doors and turns to walk slowly down the center aisle, her uneasiness growing with every step, until she sits down on the still warm front pew and looks up at him with trepidation. From the podium he begins asking her leading questions of a sexual nature, and by manipulating her confused answers he builds his case against her. Lending authority to his own words with frequent quotations of Scripture, he gravely accuses her of defiling her own body and even offending God Himself with the damp secretions of lust that he knows she tries to conceal "down there".
She only allows him to continue chastising her for perfectly natural desires because of the guilt she has been taught to feel about sex all her life. Sitting mortified on the very front pew with nothing to block his view of her, she feels helplessly exposed to the Priest's judgmental glare. She fidgets and flushes ever more, and her eyes fixate on the ground in unwitting acknowledgment of her masturbatory crimes.
Encouraged by her incriminated demeanor, he informs her matter-of-factly that he could actually smell the stench of her unclean desire scandalizing his church today, and so could anyone who passed near her. Furthermore, he can smell her nastiness as it profanes the very pew on which she now sits. Her eyes widen with disbelief at this claim, and her face turns red with humiliation. She can't help but sniff the air in front of her, but she can smell only the candles.
He asks if she understands why she must be punished for the vulgar indecency of her crass animalistic urges, and with downcast eyes filling with tears she nods slowly, knowing his accusations about her are true. He explains she is lucky that her kind Priest cares about all God's children just like Jesus did, even the filthy whores, because only he might save her unworthy soul from hellfire. Now, he asks, does she wish to remain a sinful hussy, an abomination before God, or does she wish to come forth and humble herself before the glory of God?
After a few moments of gut wrenching silence, during which she trembles and he stands austerely, she unsteadily rises to her feet. Clasping her hands nervously in front of her skirt, as if subconsciously trying to hide her crotch, she timidly walks forward. When she reaches him and sees the ruler in his hand, she realizes what is going to happen and hesitates. He simply takes her by the ear and pulls her down over his low podium.
Her plaid skirt is lifted, leaving her with only the protection of cotton panties. Her tender buttocks are no match for the thick wooden ruler. She opens her eyes halfway through the stinging ordeal, her entire rump blazing with pain, to behold the life size crucifixion sparkling divinely through her tear blurred vision. Christ's apparent endorsement of this beating lends credence in her mind to the righteousness of her Priest’s judgment.
She only dimly suspects the Priest's lustful intent when, after caressing the reddening flesh of her inflamed rear, his hand slips down to her nether region to confirm whether her filthy lust has dried up or if she is still “wet with sin like a Godless whore”. She cringes with embarrassment when he finds her soaking in her own vileness. Whispering exorcisms he caresses her there, while concealing his delight.
Finally he lets her up, and she turns toward him to begin stammering some weak excuse for her incorrigibly wet crotch, resulting only in a silencing slap across her face followed by an accusation of blasphemy. His renewed threats of damnation leave her with no choice but to submit to God, but given such blasphemy the Priest declares it necessary to exorcise and purify each of her dirty orifices.
When she beholds his erection for the first time she gasps in horror and begins to have her own revelation. While watching it throb she becomes fully aware of the hypocrisy of the Priest, punishing her instinctual sensuality with his own perverted depravities, and in that instant her world turns upside down. She knows she is being tricked and feels more degraded than ever, yet somehow her desire burns all the hotter. Before she can think about why, she finds herself obeying his order to kneel down before the glory of God.
With her bare knees on the stone floor she accepts the “body of Christ” into her befouled and blasphemous mouth. His salty taste and musky smell overwhelm her senses as he controls her motion by gripping handfuls of her hair.
Then by his divinely ordained command she removes her sin-stained panties and climbs atop a sturdy wooden table to lay on her back, where her face flushes with new shame as the Priest takes hold of her legs and spreads them wide to expose her most unclean parts to the callous eyes of Jesus, who watches every indignation with total indifference from his crucifix a few feet away.
He explains that her redemption requires she use her delicate fingers to spread and hold her dirty hole wide open before Christ, so that the Lord might feel the heat of her depravity, and smell the ripe stench of her lust. While she holds this vulnerable position, the Priest coaxes out of her a verbal confession to being a sinner, a fornicator, and a whore in the eyes of God. He makes the sign of the cross on his chest as though to protect himself before penetrating the source of her sin.
He rapes her for what is perhaps ten minutes, but it seems to her like only two, and at times her body heaves and her sin gushes forth to darken the unfinished wood of the tabletop in a circular puddle with thin streaks dripping down the side. He yanks open her white top, sending little buttons flying everywhere. The rough feeling of his hands on her bare breast brings her a fleeting shameful memory of removing her brazier in the ladies room after Mass in hopes of attracting this man whose sweat now drips from his face onto the bare skin of her belly. "Surely I must truly be a whore," she decides, before waves of pleasure overwhelm her again.
Finally he lifts her back up to her feet and forcefully turns her away from him, then pushes her back down over the table until her nipples graze the rough tabletop. Immediately she feels his pressure at her last bastion of potential sin, and for the first time she struggles wildly. The Priest catches hold of one wrist, then the other, and pins them both behind her back.
She screams and cries out, how it hurts her when he first carefully violates her virgin rectum, but he reminds her that this is punishment for her promiscuity, and it is meant to hurt. "Salvation can only be attained through suffering. Jesus died to teach us this. He died suffering, much like you are suffering now."
And with that thought, for just a moment so fleeting that he doesn’t even acknowledge it afterward, the Priest actually imagines Jesus suffering in her place, and the brief vision of his own manhood buried between the Savior’s bony cheeks is what finally triggers his orgasm. She feels her colon flood with his warm semen, while he watches Jesus Christ fade back into a young woman in a disheveled uniform.
Except for her labored breath she lies quietly now, overwhelmed by the emotions inside her, and completely unsure what to expect next. He looks down below his hand which still holds both her wrists behind her back, and sees his purity leaking from her stretched anus, oozing down past her red, swollen sex. As he watches, a pocket of air that his passion had forced inside her finds its way out and breaks the near silence with a wet flatulent burst, splattering droplets white semen onto his black shirt. She is mortified by the obscene sound, and certain that this final indecency has disgusted her Priest, dooming her to failure even though she’s tried so desperately to please him. Losing all hope, she begins to sob in anticipation of his damnation and rejection, now seemingly inevitable.
Lifting her up and turning her toward him, he wraps his strong arms around her and holds her close. She presses her teary face into his armpit and sobs in humiliation, a drop of warm semen oozing down her inner thigh. He announces her cleansed, purified, sanctified, and holds her tightly while reassuring her in soft tones that she is saved and will be admitted into heaven after all. She realizes in these moments that suddenly she doesn’t even care, so long as she is able to get back to the heaven she'd just been too.
That very evening, under cover of darkness, she sneaks from her dormitory and meets him again in the church. Before the night is over, he superimposes her willing body over that of his Savior on the life-size crucifix, and ties her securely there with Jesus pressing uncomfortably into her back. The stone walls effectively muffle her screams as white candle wax drips down her exposed breasts, which were again found under her starched shirt without a brazier.
Each day, rows of plaid-skirted Catholic girls hear the phrase, "Dear child, accept this, the body of Christ, into your mouth," while down on their knees, their pretty lips parted and ready to receive this "gift". Ever wonder why we have to kneel before statues of this scantily clad submissive-on-a-cross, our mouths and eyes level with the bulge under his torn loincloth? Is it even worse that Muslims have to bend over and face Mecca?
_____________________________
Free your mind and your ass will follow.
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WARNING: BLASPHEMY - 
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