#priest vestments
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One day you’re just getting your vestments tailored for a treat.
Four years later you’ve matured and everything is custom made to accommodate your massive presence.
#hierophilia#fat father flo#seminarians#bhm weight gain#make room#priest vestments#silk stockings#plump wide feet
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I have a horny concept, but I have no frame of reference for how niche certain knowledge is, so idk if it requires a history lesson first 🤔
Are we familiar with tudor era england's attitude towards catholicism, priest hunters, and what priest holes are?
... what if the priest got stuck halfway? Hunters after him and trying to shimmy into a tiny little hiding spot but oops! His hips wont fit and now he's been caught. But the hunters can see what a predicament he's in, and they'll spare his life... if he behaves while they take advantage of it.
#priest kink#hierophilia#heirophilia#father speaks#bonus points! if hes still wearing the vestments cause he didn't have time to take them off#queue#cnc tw
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Yeah. Spacecraft personification I'm doing ig
#WEBBY#jwst#space#james webb space telescope#astronomy#personification#gijinka#nasa#catholic priest#priest oc#religious imagery#priests#vestments#sketchdump
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I will have vestments from here someday. Silk. Brocade. Velvet. Cashmere. Decadence.
This is an #institution in #Roma #Gammarelli #🧦 #👘 (at Rome, Italy) https://www.instagram.com/p/CVLUOOCsQch/?utm_medium=tumblr
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who's dick do i gotta suck to see Shadowheart in a priest vestments?
#listen i knOW its hot#believe me i know#seeing a demon or a vampire#in priest vestments#but consider this:#shadowheart and her religious trauma#fits SO WELL#a god she reaches out to and is punished for#in her neat little collar and simple black vestments#bg3#shadowheart#i think it'd be very hot your honor
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Hello from one former altar server to another! 👋🏻😊
Hellloooo <3 XDDD It is nice to see another former server XDD
Of all the things being an altar server helped me with, I'd never imagine it would put me on the path to writing a homoerotic bishop/demon short story LOL.
#how did we all end up here#tbh#i have so many thoughts/memories abt altar serving and nawt all great - i hated most of the people who went to my church#but it made my grandmother happy so highkey that is the only thing that mattered <3#but like i mean it helps me remember the order of mass#it was interesting being there when the priests and deacons dressed up#and actually talking to them and having conversations#like casual shit while we were all putting on our albs/vestments#i remember going to my priest and asking him to 'get us the albs with hoods >:/ like they have at xyz church'#he said#'we don't have the money!!! XD'#tbh it was also the functionality too#because they cost a lot but also would we WEAR the hoods#anyway#will some of my old convos with my parish priests make it into my short stories#mayhaps
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A few group shots from Munich last week on the third Sunday of Advent
#fat father flo#hierophilia#bhm weight gain#priest vestments#college weight gain#make room#gaudete sunday
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Shoutout to the lady today who came to church in her space-unicorn pajamas. I hope you specifically have a great day.
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and lead us not into temptation...
father charlie mayhew x fem!reader
© caileeflavoured 2024, do not repost, modify or translate!
synopsis: During Confirmation, God the Holy Spirit comes upon the person, accompanied by God the Father and God the Son. Father Mayhew, too.
a/n: ahhh, how good it feels so channel my religious trauma into absolute filth again. I was never Catholic so idk how accurate the stuff I said is but I did research and tried my best (really no one cares about Catholic accuracies why are you even stressing about this girl)
warnings: 18+, SMUT, dubcon, little bit of a corruption kink, innocence kink, clueless little church mouse!reader, blasphemous shit tbh, virginity loss, unprotected sex, a priest absolutely abusing his position,
wc: 3.2k
MAIN MASTERLIST | GROTESQUERIE MASTERLIST
They told you that the Sacrament of Confirmation was the most important event of a young girl growing closer to God. They told you it was an honour to attend this spiritual ceremony, that it was the culmination of forming a bond with Christ. They told you that it was high time you were finally sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit.
Father Charlie Mayhew was adamant that you’d finally receive this great gift, having discussed the possibility of a personal Confirmation with your parents after Sunday Mass.
“She’s at an age where it should already have happened,” he told them. “I assume you wish her to get married soon. She ought to finally be strengthened for service to the Body of Christ.”
Your parents trusted Father Mayhew blindly, believing he was a gift sent to earth by the Lord Himself, and quickly agreed. They wouldn’t want their precious daughter to fall into disgrace should a proper suitor be found sooner rather than later.
The priest nodded, visibly satisfied with their consent. “I can arrange it for next week’s Mass, but I would like for your daughter to come see me for a private confession. The Lord has spoken to me in my prayers, and has tasked me with properly preparing the confirmands. It’s a standard practice at my church.”
Only that it wasn’t.
Father Mayhew had spent many hours not praying, not studying the Scripture, not preparing new sermons since he first saw you in all your womanly glory at Mass. Instead, he often found himself in his office, his pants growing uncomfortably tight just at the thought of you attending Mass every Sunday like the faithful girl you are, hanging on his every word.
And when you’d get on your knees during the Eucharistic prayer…
His hand would always find its way to his throbbing length during a quiet moment after Mass, the grip on his cock nearly painful as he worked himself towards the highest of highs. And more often than not he would later find white stains on his liturgical vestments, having to go through several clerical outfits in the span of only a few days.
“Tell her to come see me on Wednesday after general confession hour.”
So your parents sent you on your way, Bible in hand, rosary wrapped around your wrist. You entered the empty church, standing between the pews as you clutched your Bible to your chest.
“Father Mayhew?” A timid call for him echoed through the large building, and soon he appeared.
His chest heaved as he appeared, his robe sitting weirdly on his shoulders as if he had pulled it over his head in a hurry. His hair messy, not slicked back like he usually wore it.
The appearance caught you off guard, to say the least, and made your blood pressure rise.
“Ah, my new confirmand!” He greeted you with an open-arm gesture, then clasped his hands together. “Happy to see you. What an exciting time it must be for you.”
He closed the distance between you, turning to your side and placing his hand on your back as he led you towards the back of the church. “Let’s go talk in my office,” he said.
“I thought I came to confess?” You asked in bewilderment. “Oughtn’t we sit down in the confessional booth for that?”
But he was quick to shut down your confusion. “No. No, no, no. Let’s not stick to such ancient traditions. I’ve come to learn, in my time as a servant of the Lord, that private confessions are best made in the comfort of a priest’s office. Shall we?”
He opened the door to his office, letting you enter first before closing the door behind his back and quickly turning the lock before you would notice.
“Take a seat,” he motioned towards the armchair on the opposite side of his desk as he sat down in his own chair.
He leaned back and observed you with relaxed eyes. His stoic gaze was intimidating to you, your heart thumping against your ribcage the longer he stared.
“Father?”
The sound of your voice ripped him out of his dirty fantasy, his focus returning to the there and then, which, admittedly, didn’t help much when his hard cock ached from the torturing restraint of his pants.
“Right,” he cleared his throat, bending forward hoping it would cover the growing bulge. “Now, I have to admit I wasn’t quite honest with your parents,” he chuckled smugly.
The picture of you furrowing your brows as you slightly cocked your head to the side in a confused gesture made him lose a couple drops of cum into his boxers. How could a young girl be so cluelessly devoted to God. To him. It made him lose his mind, and throw his holy vows overboard.
To hell with abstinence. Some girls just asked for it. And he knew you were one of them.
Gifted by the devil himself, a test of his faith and obedience — the bishop had warned him many years ago that the day would come when he would find himself face to face with temptation — and presented on a silver platter right there in his own church. To him, however, a young, ripe girl like you could only have found her way into his office so he could chase the feeling of his former life.
To remind himself how good it felt to lose himself in the warmth of a tight cunt.
“I understand your parents are hoping to find you a husband soon,” Father Mayhew began. “But Confirmation isn’t the only thing necessary in preparation for marriage. You know, there are certain… other things a young woman must be prepared for before she can fulfil her duties of a devout wife.”
“Father, I don’t—”
His hand shot up, immediately shutting down any doubts or concerns you might try to raise. “Tell me… Have you ever touched yourself? After all, this is some kind of confession here, right? God needs you to be completely honest with me.”
He could sense the warmth rush to your cheeks, the way your breath hitched in your throat as your gaze shifted to the floor.
“A simple yes or no will suffice, sweetheart,” he pressed. “This is crucial for your preparation as a confirmand.” His eyes searched for yours. “You can even nod or shake your head if that’s easier.”
Then, finally, he got a reaction out of you. A timid… shake from left to right. “It’s a sin, Father.”
The change in his demeanour evaded you. The way his eyes turned into slits resembling those of a snake, the way he ever so slightly shifted in his seat as his hand carefully moved to his crotch.
A moment of silence passed in Father Charlie’s office as he let your words sink in. You had been even more clueless than he’d imagined. An enticing temptation, one that he had no choice but to succumb to.
“That is very admirable,” he praised you. “However,” he got up, “as part of this… preparation I need you to be… how should I say this… open to… sexual activities.”
He walked around his desk in a few long strides until he stood in front of you and leaned against the edge of the table, folding in hands in front of his crotch as he crossed his legs. He could feel his cock press against his palms through the fabric of his pants, begging to be freed.
“Why should—” You tried to ask, but his hand was quick to shoot up in a silencing gesture. That’s when you first noticed the bulge in his pants.
With your eyes glued to his crotch, Charlie could barely hold himself back from dragging you across his desk and shoving his cock right into your tight little cunt, no matter if you were ready for him or not.
“Get on your knees,” he said in a plain voice. You obeyed instantly.
He took the Bible and rosary from your hands and placed them on his desk before standing up right in front of you, your mouth so perfectly aligned with his length. A few quick movements got him rid of his pants and boxers just enough to pull out aching cock, tip glistening with drops of precum.
He watched your eyes go wild in shock, although he silently wished they would have gone wide from excitement and lust. He’d get you there soon enough…
“From now on, I need you to listen to me, sweetheart,” he instructed. “No more questions, no ifs and buts, alright?”
His eyes stayed focused on yours until you nodded, and he pinched your chin with his thumb and index finger as a gesture of approvement. A pleased look on his face and a satisfied smirk on his lips, he then let his thumb graze along your lower lip before pushing it in.
“Open up.” His voice turned rough, strained even, as he pulled your jaw down and forced your mouth open.
He could detect a sliver of fear glistening in your eyes as the tip of his cock met your lip, could sense your wanting to ask what he was doing, but was pleased to see you resist the urge to question his actions.
So he pushed it in. “Yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, feeling your lips instinctively close around him. “Careful with those teeth.”
His hand found the back of your head, his fingers tangled in your hair to get a good grip and properly guide your movements. He pulled back and pushed back in, this time all the way until he heard and felt you gag around him.
He stopped once he could feel the back of your throat, watching you struggle and start to panic, your hands moving up to the sides of his hips in an attempt to push him back. But, of course, he was too strong for you.
“Shh, shh,” he cooed. “You’re doing so well.”
He started to pick up a pace slow enough to relish the feeling of your mouth and not already waste his seed by shooting it into the back of your throat. After a few more thrusts, he pulled out, watching the string of spit connect his tip to your bottom lip with a grin.
“You see,” he started to explain, “in order to become a full-grown adult, which you will be after your Confirmation, you need to understand certain things. And, as the priest of your church, it is my duty to teach you the necessary lessons to let you go out into world with a clear conscience.”
He watched you intently, gauging your reaction to each and every word of his. You were still kneeling in front of him so he bent down, continuing to observe you at eye level. His breath came in slow, hot bursts as it repeatedly hit your face.
“You understand now why I have to do this, do you?” He asked.
You nodded, albeit hesitantly.
“And you also understand that this is to stay between me and you, and me and you only, right?”
He waited for another nod, and when it wouldn’t come, he raised an eyebrow, his hand gripping your jaw tightly.
“Do you understand?” He repeated with more force.
“Y-yes,” you mumbled.
He let go of your jaw, clicking his tongue in approval. “Good. Now I need you to take your clothes off.”
His patience was starting to run thin, especially with the way he couldn’t find any release from this achingly throbbing tension. “Listen, we don’t have much time, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of. This body of yours…”
This fucking body I need to desecrate. This body, this… tight virgin cunt.
“This body is a gift from God, wonderful and perfect like all His creations. And…” A mischievous smirk appeared on his face. “It’s not like I have never seen a woman’s body before.”
He watched your shy reaction, and your inhibitions crumble slowly. So he gave you one last push. “I’ll take my clothes off too,” he said, beginning to shed his clerical robes. “That way we’re even.”
Father Charlie watched you with satisfaction as you rid yourself of your clothes item by item. “Yeah, that’s a good girl.”
Once the last of his garments dropped on the ground, he told you to sit back down on the armchair, placing his hands on either side of you as he bent over you. His eyes travelled along your frame, wandering over the hills and valleys of your young, unsullied body.
“I need you to move your hand between your legs,” he said. “Touch yourself.”
This time you did what he said without hesitation. He could see your chest starting to heave, your breath visibly and audibly quickening as your hand slowly glided down your chest until it came into contact with your pure pussy for the first time.
“Fuck…” Charlie breathed, the grip on the armrest tightening as he fought the urge to fist his cock for at least some kind of relief. “Yes, just like that. Now push a finger in.”
You did.
“Does it feel wet? Does it slide in easily?” He asked as he observed how your lips parted at the initial sensation of pleasuring yourself.
You nodded.
“Try pushing in a second finger,” he commanded.
You did, your forehead creasing once it slipped all the way in.
“How does that feel? Tell me.”
“It feels…” You began, but couldn’t quite put it into words.
“Good?” He finished for you.
You nodded again.
“Try curling them upwards, like this,” he gestured a come hither movement with his own fingers for you to mimic.
And you did.
“But Father…” You gulped, “isn’t this… a sin?” You asked as you kept moving your hand.
He shook his head. “How can a natural urge be a sin? The Lord gave it to us.”
“I know, but—” His hand was back on your jaw, his digits pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks.
“No ifs and buts, remember?” he reminded you, his gaze sharp.
He quickly glanced at the clock. “You’ve been talking too much. Get up.”
You did as you were told while Charlie pushed the clutter off his desk, his movements rushed. He grabbed you by the back of your thighs, practically slamming you onto the desk and standing between your spread thighs.
So close to that heavenly cunt…
“The reason I’m doing this is because it is my duty as a priest,” he said leaning over you, his hand moving down your neck, over your collarbone, then closer and closer towards your chest.
“You need to know what it will be like to lay with your future husband,” he explained, his length pressing against your dripping core as his lips found your neck.
You reacted to his touches so organically, almost like second nature. Like this wasn’t your first time ever experiencing any kind of sexual activity.
Father Charlie knew he finally had you right where he wanted you. Where he needed you.
“It might hurt,” he mumbled against your neck as his hands cupped your tits, your nipples immediately trapped between his fingers as he pinched and pulled on them. “But that pain is gonna turn into something so much better. I promise.”
His lips travelled down your neck as he pushed you back onto the flat, cold surface of his desk, the temperature a stark contrast to your heated body. His tongue glided along your sternum, first to the left, around your now hardened nipple, then to the right, repeating the same process.
Charlie could hear your laboured breaths slowly but surely transform into hot gasps, soft moans falling from your lips whenever his tongue or fingers would graze the sensitive buds of your breasts. He knew he could take it further without much clueless confusion on your part.
He knew he could finally take you like he had wanted to for so long.
So he pushed into you in one rough motion, not stopping until he could feel the soft tissue of your hymen collapse under the pressure of his cock.
You cried out, your hands instinctively gripping his strong arms, but he was quick to collect both your wrists in one hand and pin them above your head as he grabbed your thigh with the other.
“Shh, shh,” he shut you up as he pulled your leg up and around his waist, allowing himself to fuck you from a different angle that would make it easier for him to fully thrust into your virgin cunt.
And, Lord, what a tight little cunt you had.
His breaths escaped his lungs in ragged grunts as he pushed into you again and again, feeling your tight walls give in more and more to make him fit the longer he kept ramming his cock into you. The desk creaked under the pressure of his body colliding with yours, the wood bending with each new thrust that would allow him to slip further into your silky core.
“Father—” You pleaded, arms unsuccessfully straining against his grip. “It… hurts.”
“Told you. But not much longer,” he said, his voice ragged as he ignored your attempts to make him stop. “Trust me.”
He could feel himself getting there, could feel how difficult it became to keep a steady rhythm. You were squeezing him in the best way possible, and he couldn’t even begin to think about how it would feel to have you milk his every last drop.
His moans echoed off the walls of his small office when he felt you start to relax around him. “Yeah, that’s right,” he grunted, his voice nearly failing him. “Let me hear you.”
His thumb pulled your bottom lip down so your mouth would fall open, letting those sweet, clueless whines escape your throat freely. That was all he took as a confirmation of your starting to enjoy the way he was fucking you.
And that was all he needed to find his most earth shattering release so far. He pulled out quickly, finishing off with a couple more strokes before he shot hot spurts of his cum right onto your newly stretched and glistening cunt.
“Look at me,” he groaned as he rode out his high, his eyes fixed on you, your heaving chest, your skin covered in a slight sheen of sweat, your cunt defiled and disgraced by your priest’s cum.
“Now you’re all set for Confirmation,” he said as he helped you up, then handed you a towel. “Make sure you’re clean before you come back for Sunday Mass. And remember, don’t tell your parents. If you can do that for me, I’ll show you much more if you want me to.”
They told you that during Confirmation, God the Holy Spirit comes upon the person, accompanied by God the Father and God the Son. They didn’t tell you Father Mayhew did, too.
#nicholas alexander chavez#father charlie mayhew#nicholas alexander chavez x reader#father charlie mayhew x reader#father charlie x reader#grotesquerie#father charlie
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OOC: depending on the church, you can sometimes walk around. If they're not doing a service. You can sometimes call and ask if they have like "open" hours so to speak. You can just lie and say you want a space for prayer/thought and someone might be able to open the doors for you if they're not already unlocked
Ive visited bigger churches before, but the basilicas and cathedrals feel easier to walk around in as someone who's not religious because its more of a tourist destination for the architecture. The local catholic church is very pretty from the outside but its smaller and way easier to be noticed by someone who works there, and of course my anxiety has me convinced that they'll know im not catholic and run me off 😅
I might try the episcopal church first, they seem more chill than the catholics 🤔
#thank you!#ask#running into the priest himself is thee nightmare scenario tbh 😅#i went to a church around new years on vacation and forgot that they have feast days on the first#so mass had just let out#and the priest was still there in vestments and everything#if my friend wasn't right behind me i would've turned around and left then and there 🫣
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Just woke up from a dream where Gene was dressed as a parody of some robe worn by the Queen of England but it the text and symbolism was changed to “Queen of Freedom” as s protest against anti-drag laws
#Not based on any real life garment it was some purple and pink thing that looked more like an Anglican/Episcopalian priest vestment#(Because dreams are stupid and get things wrong)#I thought it was a great funny protest in-dream though
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Me: Hm. I hate reading the shit Catholics write but I’d better do a google search to check how cassocks are meant to be put on, just to make sure the details in my priest kink novel are correct.
Some priest writing about cassocks in 1897, drenched in sweat, hands shaking: vestments are lingerie we wear for god. my cass;ock makes me a little s issy bitch. I am NOT turned on by this
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What else do people think the priestly collar came from? Servants to God and to the people, bayBEE. 😎
Gerard Donelan
#gerard donelan#leather#leather daddy church#kink theology#queer theology#theology#funny#vestments#pride#pride month#servant of god#a leather priest collar would be so much fun
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CRY FOR ABSOLUTION - LEON S. KENNEDY
ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader
a/n: heyyy :3 had to make the priest collar edit on picsart so don't look at it too close... um... title from 'absolution' by ghost. thank you @ottermarbles for beta reading !! been working on this slowly while writing commissions... finally here !! rbs and feedback appreciated as always <3
cw: 18+ content, priest!leon, non-religious!reader, dead dove, non-con to dub-con to non-con, victim turned perpetrator, forced breeding, mentions of forcing marriage, religious themes, p in v, creampie, degradation, name calling, breath play
word count: 1.6k words
Leon can sense your presence in the church before he sees you. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, his whole body going rigid. He starts murmuring under his breath, eyes shut as he recites the prayer. He’d tried countless times to pray to the Virgin Mary, to strengthen his faith in God so he may resist your advances. To Saint Mary Magdalene, to guide you away from your life of sin. To God Himself to plead that you would leave him alone.
He was sure you were the Devil. Almost certain that you were some cruel test that God had bestowed on him.
He grips the rosary dangling around his neck as your footsteps get closer, whispering one final prayer to God, a desperate plea to give him strength before he faces you, hands trembling as his eyes open to meet yours. Leon couldn’t quite understand how you always managed to avoid the crowds, to worm your way into the Church between services, narrowly avoiding the other priests. You did not care for them, for your faith. You had your eyes set on Leon, a succubus in the flesh that had targeted him so callously.
”While I appreciate your dedication to the Church, I’m afraid the service has already drawn to a close, and there is a lot of work for me to get through before tonight’s service. Perhaps if you return later with the other parishioners, we can s-“
”Father, I hoped to speak to you before the service.” You say as you stalk closer, your heated gaze trailing him. He almost doesn’t hear you speak, the ringing in his ears dampening the sound around him, making your voice nothing more than a faint echo. He’s looking at you, but he’s not seeing you. His gaze is far away as he tries to think of something, anything else. A lump forms in his throat that he cannot dislodge no matter how hard he tries, swallowing to attempt to clear the passage enough so that he felt he could breathe, but with no success. His vision blurs, and he vaguely registers the tears forming in his eyes as you coo, cupping his cheek to wipe the few that fall.
”Please,” he whispers, voice cracking as he gazes at you fully, your face slowly coming into focus. What did he do to deserve this? He was a good man, wasn’t he? He’d tried his best to help the less fortunate, to be kind to everyone he spoke with. Had he committed some sin without realising it? Some blight against God that meant he deserved this? "Please, I don’t want this. You’re misguided, that's all. I can help you. You don’t have to do this.”
As always, his protests fall on deaf ears. He feels the steady stream of tears running down his face, brows pinching together as you back him up into the confessional. His chest continues to grow tighter and tighter until his lungs constrict painfully with each breath. The air gets caught in his throat and makes him choke, his brain shutting down as he just lets you free him from his vestments and tug down his trousers. He's glad to be rid of the collar, at the very least. It feels less like God was bearing down on his throat to drag him to Hell for letting this happen.
The first sob forces its way from his chest as your lips wrap around his cock. He wishes that he could hate the way it felt. It makes him nauseous - makes his head spin, but it feels good. He's at war with himself as to what this means, if enjoying the wet warmth wrapped around him means he's no better than you. He closes his eyes and clenches his fists as he tries to distance himself from your touch.
You pull yourself off of his cock with a pop, rustling around for something in your pocket. The crinkle of a packet has his eyes snapping open again, his eyes honing in on the foil you're holding up between two fingers. Panic seeps into his very core, his breath coming out in harsh puffs. “Thought we could try something new.” You say with a giggle, like it's the most normal thing in the world.
No. No, this couldn't happen to him. He's a priest - he's meant to stay far, far away from the pleasures of the flesh. He had to do something, anything to stop you. He swallows hard, eyes flickering around the confessional, trying to figure a way out of this before you lead him down a path of sin.
Leon isn't sure what happened. One minute, you were tearing open the condom with your teeth, and the next minute, he pounced. His hand gripped your throat to pin you down in the confessional, squeezing tight. His eyes are wide, almost feral as they meet yours, his free hand yanking your underwear down. His movements are clumsy as he prods as your cunt, trying to push his way in. After a few attempts, he manages to hook the tip on your entrance, and he slides home in one thrust.
“Oh.” He breathes out, eyes squeezing shut again. Maybe God wasn't testing him. Maybe this was his reward for being a good follower - all he had to do was breed this pussy full and wed you, and he'd be able to do this as many times as he pleased.
No. This was a test. He must have passed. He succeeded, and this was his reward. A pretty housewife for him to keep bred and safe in his grasp. A woman to cure his cold, lonely nights. He could finally have the family he always wanted. He was angry at you now, yes, but he would forgive you when you accepted his proposal and his seed.
“Temptress.” He hisses between gritted teeth, the hand on your throat tightening. The pressure against your windpipe is bruising, leaving you desperately trying to gasp in breaths through too tight of a passage. “Indecent whore. This is what you wanted, wasn't it? You didn't care when I told you ‘no’, did you? No? Then take it.”
He scoffs as you plead for him to stop again, his brows narrowing in frustration. He didn't want to do this. Leon was a good man. He was a holy man. He couldn't let you ruin him. What if the word of this got out?
“You wanted to ruin me, didn't you? You thought you couldn't take what you wanted from me without consequences? That… fuck… that God wouldn't punish your sins? I'm going to make you take my seed. You're going to be my pretty little wife, and no one will hear about this.”
He thrusts forward particularly violently after his words, his grip on your throat tightening enough that you start thrashing, cunt clenching around his cock enough that he has to halt his movements to stop himself from cumming too soon.
“If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will drag you down into the deepest depths of Hell with me. I swear it on the Lord Himself.” He grits out, finally releasing his hold on your throat.
He ignores your protests, a muddy mix of guilt and anger swirling in his chest with each plea that falls from your lips. You had shown him no mercy, and yet you expect him to spare you? You were nothing more than a Godless nymph. He would show you the light.
“Do you know your prayers, hmm?” He coos, gripping your chin. The pads of his fingers dig into your cheeks harshly, drawing a pained moan from you. He starts fucking into you again now that his orgasm has fully subsided, letting out a shaky breath at the drag of his length against your gummy walls. “No, of course. You have no respect for the house of the Lord - you just wish to defile it.”
He lets go of your face to hitch your legs over his waist, breaths coming out in heavy pants as he pistons his hips into you, sweat beading against his skin from exertion, bangs stuck flat against his forehead. “Repeat after me.”
‘Lord God, in your goodness have mercy on me:’
The words fall past your lips in a daze as you repeat them, his hand reaching up to your throat again, but not squeezing. A warning to continue as he speaks the next line.
‘Do not look on my sins, but take away all my guilt.’
He's close now, barely able to hold back as he ruts into you helplessly, reduced to nothing more than a dog in heat as you clench around his cock.
‘Create in me a clean heart and renew within me an upright spirit.’
His hips stutter as you repeat the last words of Contrition back to him, his head dropping to the crook of your shoulder as he gasps out sharp breaths. His cock jumps as he orgasms, stuffing you full of his cum with a noise more akin to a whimper than a moan.
He leans back, eyes taking in your appearance. There was some kind of sick satisfaction seeing you broken like this, knowing God had allowed him to take back the part of him you had aimed to destroy.
You would be his. He would keep you as his wife, his prize. He was given a chance to relinquish the sins you had bestowed upon him.
He would not let the opportunity pass.
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