Acolyte

She is an acolyte of her deity. She is dedicated to serving him. Through doing so, she finds meaning and purpose. In this church, the body of the acolyte is a vessel, a tool through which devotion is physically demonstrated, and a tool through which inner peace may also be found.

The acolyte must be fit in body and mind to serve her god. Her small, lithe frame, muscular abs clearly visible, is maintained in this state through regular exercise, to serve him. When she knows she'll be with her god, she makes sure to dress for his pleasure. But for the acolyte, religious devotion is often an unclothed affair.

He begins to undress, which she adeptly judges to be a possible opportunity for her to supplicate and exalt. He lays down naked on the bed on his back, and now she knows for sure. She removes her clothes, one article at a time, until she's wearing nothing but a collar.

If she is instructed to do anything differently, she's ready to improvise, but left to her own devices, the acolyte always falls back on her devotional training.

First, she looks him in eye.

"I love my god, and my body is a vessel for my devotion to him," she says to him, before she dons a broad mask that completely covers her eyes, leaving her in darkness.

She feels her god's face beneath her, and guides her face towards his. Blindfolded, she finds his ears and gently whispers into each one again, "I love my god, and my body is a vessel for my devotion to him."

She feels a bit more alive with each opportunity to caress his body, as she feels her way slowly towards his penis. Kneeling beside him, she presses her god's penis to her forehead as she briefly prays again ("I love my god") before she moves on to a ritual form of worship known as fellatio.

Barring further instruction, the acolyte would likely continue with the sacrament of fellatio, until receiving the blessing of her god's cum in her mouth. But this time she receives a message from her god, in the form of a gentle tug on the shoulder, indicating that she should rise.

She lifts her head and moves towards his. He guides her supple body over his, so her legs are spread on either side of her god, with her above him. He drops his hands to his sides on the bed, confident that his acolyte requires no further guidance in order to know which form of devotion follows.

She gently works his penis into her vagina, making sure it's in all the way before she begins to rise and fall with all of her weight. Her god's penis must be inside her as fully as possible, every millimeter of shaft that can be gathered. At the deepest point, in some positions more than others, this hurts her. Each time she feels the pain of the jab of her god's penis coming to the end of her vaginal tunnel, hitting her cervix or her bladder or other things, she feels more alive. She knows that each time his penis reaches the end of her tunnel, this is a sacrament.

It is a sacrament that naturally leads to other sacraments. As the acolyte becomes increasingly aroused by the sacrament of deep intercourse with her god, she feels the waves of orgasmic energy building up within her, until they are pushing to break free. Soon the waves are crashing too hard to resist, if she keeps provoking them by moving.

At the last moment, she stops. Her stomach tightens, forming a barrier. Silently, she gives this sacrament to her god. She knows devotion requires daily sacrifice, and that the bruises inside her from taking him in so deeply are nothing compared with the sacrament of the hard edge.

This time she hits it, as with every time, there is the momentary crisis of faith. Within the space of a microsecond that seems far longer, the acolyte questions why devotion involves such sacrifice. She can easily imagine -- almost feel -- the orgasm she's not having, the pleasure she's denying herself. For what, she wonders, as she holds herself perfectly still, stomach muscles taut as rope. Gradually, she feels the crashing waves subside, replaced by a sense of emptiness.

She knows what comes next.

"I love my god, and my body is a vessel for my devotion to him," she repeats her mantra.

The empty feeling is quickly replaced, almost unexpectedly, by the waves again. She provokes the waves by moving -- one more thrust, bringing them crashing much harder. She briefly wonders if she went too far with that thrust. She momentarily thinks maybe that's OK.

The momentary thought that perhaps she should just let the orgasm happen scares her, and she tightens her stomach and stops moving again. Another hard edge for her god, so soon after the last one.

Now the acolyte's pussy is as taut as her stomach, and her legs are also aching from holding herself up in that position. She makes a mental note that she should do other exercises, that might help strengthen those muscles, so that she might be a better acolyte in the future. But she knows that now it's time to move back to other forms of devotion for a while, and she gracefully slips her pussy off of her god's penis. Within a few seconds, it's in her mouth.

As she engorged her mouth with her god's penis, she noticed a sense of contentment that pervaded her whole upper body. She felt a contrasting sense of longing and emptiness between her legs, which in turn filled her with a sense of the depth of her religious devotion, and the degree to which she had abandoned earthly pleasures in favor of the higher calling, of serving god.

As she felt these feelings and ate her god with deep enthusiasm, she sensed a sort of calm returning to her pussy, and as she was eating him, she began to stimulate her clit. It felt good. She pretended she might let herself keep going with this. The pretense was good, because it was nice to imagine, and also because it was a very arousing thought. She felt the waves coming quickly. They always came more quickly, after they had been provoked a couple times.

She disengorged herself from her god's penis to utter the devotional phrase, "I love my god, and my body is a vessel for my devotion to him" after she had successfully stopped the impending waves again, by ceasing the stimulation. She felt the kind of static, and the throb, that often permeated her inner thighs, and everywhere, after such moments.

Her god, on the other hand, was exalting in pleasure from the combination of the acolyte's expert fellatio, interspersed with occasional devotional declarations when another hard edge was reached, each of which aroused him a little more. And then he came in her mouth.

"I love my god, and my body is a vessel for my devotion to him," said the acolyte, after she had finished swallowing.

He turned out the light, and she took the mask off of her eyes.