The Chosen One

***Disclaimer***

As you'll see, this story contains aspects of erotic nature that require a suspension of disbelief. Originally written as a roleplay piece by two authors, The Chosen One has been edited to better suit the erotic-novella medium. I/we are always looking at ways of improving our literary skills, so leave a comment if you enjoy it - especially so, if you'd like us to begin work on Chapter 2. Enjoy!

Chapter 01: Genesis

Father Matthew sat in his study, reading through an old text, feeling a bit of anticipation. Nothing thrilled the young holy-man like his first encounter with a new devotee, and he had had his eye on Katie for quite some time now. He could only imagine what was running through her mind today, on her 18th birthday. He was confident her parents had followed his instructions, was sure of it, actually, so devoted were they. Each girl had taken it differently, but none without a certain level of shock and confusion. Of course, he always built a strong relationship of trust and caring with the youth of his flock, through youth ministry and religious retreats, none of which every hinted at the true nature of the religion.

Of course, his appearance helped with that as well. He was 35, but appeared a good 5 years young. Tall and fit, with kind brown eyes and wavy brown hair. He carried himself with the full authority of someone in his position, but in a warm, effortless way, always engendering trust with those around him so that he never had to raise his voice to get people to listen. He turned the page, continuing to read, dressed in his usual vestments. A green robe trimmed with gold, tied around his waist. Of course, unlike during services, there was not a stitch of clothing underneath it tonight. With his devotees, he rarely wore the robe, but it was always present the first time, in order to ease them into the new reality. After all, the generous gift between his thighs could cause fear if not introduced carefully.

Katie Belle had begun the week just like any other, with a host of varying tasks that tested mind, body and spirit. 'Animus cupit Corpus' were three words that had been drilled into the girl since birth - a latin expression, vaguely translated as 'Eager mind, eager body'. First, she and several of her sisters greeted the dawn with a lengthy session of Hatha yoga. This was a task done in absolute silence, no matter the physical difficulty of the directed movement. A fluid action was key, she knew, to properly take on the contortion-shapes with her arms and legs, and a clear mind was crucial to hold herself in them for as long as she was told.

From there, she had been separated from her 'siblings', to enter the classroom. Speech, elocution, and manners were the topics of the day. Often these would be interspersed with science, or history, but today her instructor was more concerned with her posture, and how she prostrated herself before the image of God. It was only during this lesson that something felt different... Whispering tongues carrying her name could be heard from the hallway. And there was something a little sterner in the way she was being directed; something hasty, and determined in the way of teaching.

A creeping of nervous tension had entered her belly, then, and continued to bubble away over the next couple of days. Until her intuition had proven correct. "You know how important you are, sweetheart." Katie's mother had said, her green eyes - the same green eyes passed down to her daughter - staring with such pride and affection. Her father had been there, too, trying to keep his emotions in check. "You've been chosen. Yes, you." He blubbered, fingering the parchment emblazoned with the religious seal. She snatched the document from his hands, scanning the text. '...selected from hundreds...' -- '...the perfect candidate...' '...Father Matthew wishes to express gratitude to her parents...'

There had been more said. More details shared. So much new information... Unexpected responsibilities. Unimaginable tasks ahead of her. More than once, twice, three times she had proclaimed her disbelief. But their zeal had been unshakeable; their pride resolute; their certainty of her destiny unquestioned. So, with legs of jelly, she had been dressed for the 'first night'. Gone was the usual, simple tan-coloured dresses - her 'uniform' - now replaced by loose satin leggings, fixed with a thick jewelled belt about her waist. Her flat, toned stomach left bare, with an bedazzled bra cupping her newly-formed, C-Cup breasts. Her dark hair was combed and twirled into spirals that cascaded down to her shoulders.

She was marched down corridors, past doorways which had been 'forbidden' to enter for as long as she could remember. Behind her, equally alarmed, were her sisters watching her go. She wanted to say goodbye, but found her voice trapped in her throat. Ahead a closed door.

His

door. She swallowed with a

gulp

, taking one step forwards, then another, then another. Before she knew it, her fingers were twisting the knob, pushing. God himself, surely, was guiding her, for she had neither the will nor the confidence to act, herself. There he was. Sitting. Waiting. More out of habit than politeness, she offered a simple curtsy and bow of her head.

Father Matthew read patiently, until a soft ringing from the bell tower alerted him that she was now being brought to him. He set his book aside, taking a deep breath, centering himself. This was the holiest of all rituals in his church, and he drew upon all of his experience, his compassion, his knowledge and experience, knowing he had to be a loving, and sometimes firm, guiding hand. His eyes set upon the door as he heard the knob began to turn, and when she entered, that warm, loving smile was on his face. Full of compassion and beneficence, that old friend and mentor that had helped guide her from childhood to this very moment. He smiled as she curtsied, able to see the nerves and confusion on her face. He of course didn't miss how perfect that young, tight body looked in the attire she had been given, the way her silky dark hair cascaded in twirls to frame her gorgeous face. Finally, he spoke.

"Congratulations Katie," he said, his voice deep and magnanimous, yet oddly gentle, with the practice of years in his delivery. "You have no idea how proud I am of you. How proud we all are." He had spoken such words to her before, always loving the approval she took in being congratulated on high marks in class or her efforts in her religious studies. Father Matthew was generous with his praise when it was earned. "Close the door. Come, join me," he said, leaving his instructions vague to begin, bringing her along gently, slowly. "You must have so many questions for me. I trust your parents have fully explained the honor that has been bestowed on you?"

Katie hadn't known quite what to expect upon entering his private quarters. They had been a source of mystery of all youthful sisters raised in the Church. What was hidden behind the solid, oak door? Did heaven reside there? Or was it more a gateway, a portal where Father Matter could commune with the Holy Ghost? It must be a beautiful residence; they had long assumed. At least that singular fact proved correct. No, there wasn't the visage of God there to greet her. Only the same, familiar, kind face of their religious leader smiling supportively, and warmly. Had she truly expected anything different? "Your Grace..." She whispered, again habits driving any response of true spontaneity. Words failed her; nothing felt appropriate to utter, under the circumstances. After everything her parents had said... After all the details of her new responsibility had been laid bare...

With a

*clunk*

of finality, the door closed behind her. Katie moved closer, as she was bidden. "They... They told me some things..." She nodded. To say they 'fully explained what had been bestowed' would be, in effect, to confirm beyond any doubt what was now expected of her. She wasn't quite ready for that kind of certainty. Maybe, somehow, they had been mistaken. "I'm honoured, beyond measure, to have been chosen..."

He watched her carefully, his expression never faltering, never becoming cross or stern. He was the ever-understanding guide and leader he had always been, though under extremely new circumstances. But he had taken enough devotees to recognize what he saw in her face, behind her eyes. There was that tiny bit of denial, that somehow, what was happening wasn't quite real, wasn't what she was told it was to be. At her response, he smiled wider, nodding in understanding. "I know it must be a lot to take in. If it were possible, we'd have shared with all of you the deepest parts of our beliefs." He sounded forthright, an honesty behind his tone to build upon that long-built trust. "But this is a sacred thing, and we all need to prove ourselves before we can partake of the greatest sacraments."

He continued. "You should be honoured," he said, "but also know that you have earned it through your hard work and devotion. This is not a gift we give lightly. You have shown through your service that you are devout beyond the level of your peers. 'Animus cupit Corpus'. No one embodies those words more than you do Katie." He relied on his experience to be reassuring, though knew it could only do so much. But he was patient, and he was tender, and his devotees were always grateful. "Come dear, kneel for me," he said as his knees parted in welcome. She might notice at this moment that his usual slacks were not under his robe, that all that was happening was all too real.

She tried her best to hide the confluence of emotional turmoil that gripped her chest. She was conscious of her breathing, remembering the calming exercises drilled into her from an early age. Had it all been for this? Had her entire life, and each element of her training, been leading up to this point? Had Father Matthew been watching, all that time...? What had he seen in her alone to give such surety to this blessing? So many questions, and more, that threatened to pass her plump, pinkish-red lips in a torrent of never-ending query. As ever, though, in His Grace's presence, she was careful to stay quiet. Calm. Attentive. Just as she had been taught; just as she had learned through 'hard work and devotion'.

"Father, you are too gracious..." She murmured, voice crackling with underlying angst. Her respect for his holy station was absolute, and without question. Yet there lingered uncertainty. Natural, human uncertainty for something she had never seen coming. A responsibility never foreseen in her chaste future. "I..." She hesitated; chin pressed against chest in downcast look. Fingers fidgeting nervously against her bare, toned stomach. "F-Forgive me... I... I must ask... I must

know

the secret. Why... Why am I here?" Her parents had told the truth - their version of the truth. But she needed to hear it for herself, from the mouth that spoke God's voice.

He was patient, able to practically read her thoughts on her face. He had seen it so many times, after all. He could her the quiver in her voice, the confusion and angst that roiled her thoughts. When she spoke instead of obeying, he only smiled, warm and understanding, his eyes filled with knowing, not judging in the least. He listened to her question, nodding as she asked it, showing he was not upset at her questioning, at her innate

need

to know.

"Katie," he said gently. "You are here to learn. To serve, and through service, discover pleasure and bliss you have never imagined." He was honest, but not blunt, working toward the ultimate explanation slowly. It was a truth she already knew, after all, and he was careful to guide her slowly. "You have learned so well in your life. You have shown pure devotion and dedication in improving yourself, in achieving joy and happiness in your mind, in your soul, and in your spirit."

He paused a moment, smiling lovingly into her eyes. "You have earned the ultimate reward, to see that such joys and pleasure extend to the body as well. But only for those who have proven themselves, which you have. And I will guide you, teach you, answer all of your questions. And together, we will help you discover what true ecstasy is."

She listened to his words, remaining quiet, her gaze remaining fixed low as if carefully examining an invisible blemish on the lush carpet. Much like her parents, she noted how he danced around the specifics of what exactly was to be her new responsibility. There was the same innuendo without direct revelation, the same hinting suggestion bereft of true insight. So, too, as when her mother and father had sat her down, there was the same crimson blush warming her cheeks. In many ways, Father Matthew's tone reminded her of one of the many Sunday Sermons he had given to the entire congregation, in which he had bestowed blessing and hellfire alike upon his flock. Despite her unease, she was filled with a sense of honor at receiving this face-to-face, one-on-one meeting with someone she had long admired. And in that feeling, too, was pride, and a desire not to disappoint.

"T-True... Ecstasy..." She repeated the words slowly, her chaste life up 'till this point affording her little experience of such a concept. "Together... I will...be your pupil..." That, at least, was a concept she was familiar with. He had always been a teacher to her. Except now that role was set to...evolve. Lifting her shining, emerald eyes once more, she stared across the room at the holy Father. "...with God at my side, I will not fail you. I am blessed to have been chosen." Her voice threatened to quake, but she managed to speak with an apparent firmness. Apparent resoluteness. She stepped forward, one foot in front of the other, until the space between them had melted away. Then, as he had bidden, she sank to her knees.

He sat and waited patiently, truly listening to her as she processed his words, as she repeated parts of it back to him. He nodded as she steeled herself, as she spoke strength into herself. He nodded with her, his understanding face imparting strength on her, confirming everything she was saying to him, and to herself. And as she finally looked up to him, he smiled warmly, an inviting look. He felt a shiver run up his spine as she began to step forward, and his thighs parted her in invitation and welcoming. "Very good Katie," he said as she stood between them, slowly sinking to her knees.

He was dressed in only that robe, the fabric draped on his fit form. It covered his lap loosely, giving no hint as to the beast that laying underneath. He was limp, but even in that state sported a half-foot of thick, heavy meat, draped over equally impressive fruit-sized balls. The devotion in his eyes prickled his excitement, but he gave her a gentle, knowing smile. "Place your hands on my knees Katie," he said, his command delivered tenderly. The robe ended just above said knees, and that would give her the first true touch of his body she had experienced. "I want you to close your eyes, to remember your mantra," he continued, once more recalling that Latin phrase that had been drilled into her throughout her education here. "Remember it, draw strength from it, and let it guide your hands."

Katie found the utterance of his steady, familiar voice an undeniable comfort. This was more surprising than perhaps it should've been, after all he had been a present figure in her life since before she could remember. Yet, always there had been a distance. A separation. She, a member of his flock, perched in watchful attention amidst the crowd of the faithful. And he, their sacred guide, voice of God, augur of divine sacrament. There could surely be no surprise nor blame assigned to her nervous energy, now to be brought so close... Close enough that he needed to part his legs to afford her adequate space. But his smooth, reassuring words betrayed no hesitancy, no aversion on his part. Quite the contrary.

The plush, expensive-looking carpet afforded a soft resting-place on her knees. Out of a lifetime's habit Katie lowered her head for a moment, crossing her chest and whispering to personal Ave Maria to herself. How many countless times in her life had she knelt in prayer? Hundreds... Thousands... Every night before bed, no less. Little surprise then in this, too, that the 18 year old felt a semblance more comfort in prostrating herself than standing while he sat. As with God, her 'lower' position again reflected her true reverence to Father Matthew's blessed role.

She looked up at him. Her eyes a sea of emerald peering obsequiously, masking the quaking angst inside that was a mixture of nausea and excitement. Lips slightly parted, a barely perceptible nod, she brought her palms up to rest on his his knees. Her lips slightly parted in silent gasp. Physical connection had been made... With one no fellow mortal was meant to touch... "...A-Animus cupit Corpus..." Katie whispered once, in a trembling tone. Then she closed her eyes, as he had bidden, and whispered again. "...animus cupit corpus... Animus cupit corpus..." She focused on the words, letting their meaning fill her.

'Eager mind, eager body'

"...Animus cupit Corpus..."

Eager mind, eager body'

"...Animus cupit Corpus..."

'Eager mind, eager body'

Father Matthew waited for her, but never showed any sign of impatience or shortness. He was ever the understanding teacher, the steady hand that had guided her through childhood and adolescence, and to this very point. He couldn't help but admire how beautiful she looked kneeling between his legs. She had grown into a lovely young woman, and her allure was only accentuated by how she had been prepared for this moment, her attire accentuating the tight, curvy body, her curled locks framing that beautiful face.

Another lovely shiver ran up his spine when her delicate hands rested on his knees, feeling their silky, trembling touch. Her nerves quite clear and evident, as he knew they would be. But that was why he had called upon her mantra, and as her eyes closed and she began to repeat it, he shivered again. Those words finally taking on their true meaning, and she might feel his flesh goosebump under her slender fingers.

"Yes Katie," he said, in almost a low growl. The pleasure in his voice reinforcing the slowly rising heat in his flesh as her hands rested upon him. "'Animus cupit Corpus,'" he said with her. "Let your instincts guide your hands. So many questions you must have. So much you must be curious about. Let them guide your hands, let me be your guide in all those thoughts and desires you've dare not spoke." He was subtly poking at those inevitable teenage desires and urges, and yet making them seem not only normal, but the natural culmination of all her effort and work these years. "I will guide you, for you have earned it."

Katie breathed in through flaring nostrils in a slow, lung-filling gulp of air. "...Animus cupit Corpus..." And out, releasing that oxygen back out just as gradually. Over, and over, like some kind of spell - if such thoughts of 'magicks' weren't expressly forbidden by the church. Such was the repetition, that the mantra soon started to lose their meaning, instead her voice lowering into something akin to a tuneful, lilting purr. Her mind, clearly, was eager. She'd proven that with a fierce intellect and desire to learn, consistently topping her classes in religious expression and more traditional modes of learning. Her body...? 'Eager'? Such a thought had only ever been considered by Katie and her sisters alike as a metaphor of something greater; their 'eagerness' for physical prostration before God assumed to be the hidden meaning. She had kept that vow. Her body thus remaining untouched & un-thought-of through her teenage years as nothing more than a vessel for purity and chastity. Save, except, for a singular moment of temptation... A fleeting experience with another boy... An innocent escapade of exploration, the guilt from which she had lived with ever since...