***Disclaimer: This story may offend some. Please do not read it if you are likely to take issue with Catholic priests having sex, I beg you. Also, please know that I respect faith and the diligence and devotion that a believer must have.***
She had come to pray. That was all. Now she was on her knees, gagging on Father O'Reilly's cock.
It was so thick. When he had brushed aside his robes, a hot, red slab of meat with bulging veins was revealed and pressed to her lips.
"I've been listening to you say your prayers. Why don't you say the Our Father, Ashley?" he asked, still pressing the head of his cock against her smooth lips.
Ashley thought her lips would scorch. Her experience with men was limited, growing up in a Catholic orphanage for girls with only nuns for company. Rarely did a priest visit except for an hour or two on Sunday to conduct mass. Ashley was afraid to refuse.
When she parted her lips to begin the sacred words, Father O'Reilly pushed his dick slowly but firmly into her mouth. He pushed further until he felt the head bump the back of her throat. He was deaf to her gags and blind to the sight of her narrow shoulders shuddering from the sensation.
That morning's breakfast kept threatening to spew, but she managed to keep it down. Her big black eyes were overflowing with tears of panic and humiliation. She suspected that Father was not supposed to do this, though matters of sex never came up in the girl's school.
But Ashley was all innocence. This was not her first encounter with Father O'Reilly, though her first ones had been even more strange than this. The first was a few months ago when she had come for confession. When she had told of how she had been shirking off duties at work, the middle-aged Father told her to come around to receive her punishment. What she found when she came around the curtain was Father standing with his hands demurely pressed together.
"Please kneel, child."
She did as she was told. Then she felt him coming closer and heard him tell her to open her mouth. Father peed in her mouth and demanded she swallow. It was the only way, he told her. She was lazy and deserved a punishment of filth because that was all her antics would get her. She accepted God's will.
Not long after that, the father had instructed her to come back late in the evening to receive her punishment for another transgression. She did not like her boss at work and had imagined the woman being fired. Ashley felt awful about this, so she accepted, again, God's will. This time she was to take off her clothes and allow Father O'Reilly to beat her bare flesh for her impertinent thoughts. Her chocolate-colored flesh smarted with welts and cuts and the next morning she awoke with dark bruises.
It began with him laying her rather delicately across his lap and thrashing her bottom. He had begun intoning holy words and he threw her off his lap and came at her with pure furor, slapping and kicking. From his hip, he pulled out some sort of whip that he used to beat her ass and breasts, which later he grabbed and painfully squeezed her nipples until she began to cry in earnest. Finally, before the punishment was done, Father spread her legs and inspected her body. He asked about her menstruation and after he had been satisfied with her answers, he told her to shave away what he called the proof of Eve -- her pubic hair.
Father O'Reilly received strange messages from God. Now as he looked down at her, he seemed unseeing, uncaring. His eyes were even darker than Ashley's -- veritable pools of blackness. And his hair was fire. His skin was alabaster with a dusting of light freckles. He was directly from Ireland and had moved to London to pursue his interest in the priesthood. He had been doing so well until he came across Ashley. She aroused every human instinct in him to protect and every animal instinct in him to devour.
All he could think, as he stood there with his dick pushed deep into her throat and those big eyes of hers staring up at him to wait for God's so-called punishment to end, was that she was probably an angel on earth. He should take care not to truly ruin her. He fervently hoped that Ashley did not understand what was happening. He knew the orphanage she had grown up in and while most girls left haunted by the wet kisses and sloppy hands of the sisters burned into their memories, a few left unharmed. The ones whose meekness and devotion to God and Christ were unnerving to the sisters: those, they left alone.
Her skin was amazingly smooth. Her lips amazingly soft. Her eyes amazingly honest. Her breasts amazingly ripe, her ass the same, her vagina... He left his thoughts there.
Without realizing, he had reached down to grip her head in his hands and was by now slamming his hips against her lips, silently. His cock was so swollen, it was a wonder that he had not spilled every ounce of his life's seed down her throat. In the ten years he had been a priest, he had adopted a discipline of iron. Perhaps that was it, he mused.
He pulled his cock from her mouth and told her to stand. Quick to obey, she was on her feet and when he commanded that she disrobe him, she did not hesitate. By now she must know, he thought.
And she did. Ashley knew what was happening but she had lived a virgin until now. She had kept her body a temple for God and in her mind it was just as well to offer her temple to a man of God here on earth. Father took her to the altar and she guessed he wasn't expecting anyone around this time.
She glanced at his manhood and noted how rigid it appeared. She knew it felt as hard as any rock she had experienced. At the altar, he pulled her shirt open, disregarding the buttons, a few of them popping off. She could hear them rattling across the floor. Next, he jerked up her bra to free her breasts. He sighed and closed his eyes, as if in pain. She reached out to comfort him but before she could touch his face, he slapped her hand away. His eyes opened and he pinned her with that gaze.
His hands lifted to her breasts. He tugged on the nipples, began to twist the nipples, was soon mashing her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. She kept her eyes on him, watching how his lips stretched into a grin of pleasure as her own twisted into a grimace of pain and soon salted with tears.
He hitched up the plain black skirt she wore around her waist and pushed her panties down so that they fell around her ankles before she could protest.
Aaron had heard her whimpered 'No, please' but he thought it was because she was understanding and not ready. Jesus looked down on them both as the father reached between the lips of her smooth cunt to test the hot liquid clinging to her flesh.
