Joan of Snar

Joan could hear the shuffling of feet. No, not feet. Hooves. She heard the distinct sound of an animal's hooves scuffing and trotting along a hard surface. Where was she? What had happened, she wondered to herself. She was completely disoriented.

Then she remembered her dream about the goat. The dark grey goat with the white patch of fur on it's neck. The goat, which had ran her off a cliff in her nightmare. Was it happening again? Was she having a recurring dream?

She felt something sharply grab at her shoulder. Was the goat biting her?

"Joan, wake up," she heard a familiar voice speak.

Joan opened her eyes and saw Father Ben staring down at her.

"Sorry Father. I was having a strange dream. How long was I out for?"

"Not long." He smiled at her smugly.

Joan could feel a draft cooling the lower half of her body. She looked down and blushed. Seeing her naked hips and legs, she was reminded that she was not wearing any underwear and her skirt was hiked up above her waist. Red faced, she pulled her skirt back down and quickly sat up.

"So Father, is the exorcism finished?" she asked.

"Almost. There's one last thing we need to do." Father Ben lowered his hands to his belt.

"What more could we possibly do?" Joan asked nervously.

"Well, I performed your exorcism. But the thing is Joan, I don't do pro-bono work."

"But you're a priest. Isn't that part of your job?" Joan looked at him in confusion.

"It can be part of the job ... for certain priests. But I've already told you, I'm not that sort of a priest. You asked me to perform a ritual that's not on the list of my usual duties," he explained. "Conducting an exorcism isn't exactly like presiding over Sunday mass."

"Oh ..."

"And besides, any priest is supposed to get paid extra for officiating weddings and performing baptisms. I don't see why carrying out an exorcism would be any different," he shrugged.

"Can't you deduct the cost from my pay that I earn here at the rectory?" Joan suggested.

"But you don't work here anymore," he reminded her. "You quit your part-time job."

"Maybe you could hire me back? If you could give me a bit of time, I'll get you the money," she promised. "How much do I owe you?"

Father Ben chuckled as he stepped nearer. "I think I'd rather be paid through non-monetary means." He undid his buckle and began sliding his pants down.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked breathlessly.

"Do you remember that dream you had about the snake crawling into your mouth and down your throat?"

Joan looked up at him with wide frightened eyes.

"Well, this might be a little similar to that," he grinned as he reached into his pants and pulled out a long thick erection.

"Father," Joan whispered, "I don't think we're supposed to be doing this. I mean, isn't this a sin?"

"Shh, don't worry. I'm the priest. It's my job to give you spiritual guidance. Just follow my instructions and everything will be fine." His words brought her little comfort. "Now open your mouth.

Joan began to protest, "Father I don't ..."

However, the clever clergyman used that as a opportunity to shove his member between Joan's parted lips. The moist head slid over her tongue and towards the back of her mouth.

"Just remember Joan, it is better to give than to receive," he pontificated as he quoted the old Christian proverb.

Joan did not know what to do. She sat on the coffee table, stiff and motionless as Father Ben thrust his hips back and forth, pumping himself deeper into her mouth. The saltiness of the precum dripping from the head of his cock coated her tongue. Joan did not necessarily dislike the taste. But it was strange and unfamiliar to her.

"That's it," he panted as he gripped the sides of her head. He laced his fingers through her hair. "Just like a good little Catholic school girl. Obedient. Compliant. Doing what you're told."

Joan bristled somewhat at this comment. She had never considered herself to be "a bad girl." But she certainly never thought of herself as "obedient" or "compliant." She was much to strong willed to be described in such terms. And being an atheist, she certainly was not "a good little Catholic school girl." She did not even go to a Catholic school.

If Father Ben wanted a blow job, she was not going to just sit there passively as he fucked her face. She was going to show him what she was actually capable of. Joan reached around with both hands and grabbed onto Father Ben's buttocks. She sank her fingers into his flesh.

"Mmm ..." he purred as he stroked her hair. "Now you're getting the idea of how I want to be repaid for my services."

Joan bobbed her head back and forth in time with the thrusting of his pelvis. As his rod grazed the back of her throat, she dry heaved. But she refused to stop - she was on a mission. She had been so overwhelmed by the the ministrations of Father Ben's mouth and the pleasure it brought her. She wanted to try her best to impress him with her own oral abilities.

"You're really committed to paying what you owe me," he laughed as Joan tried her best to stifle her gagging.

Father Ben sped up the pumping of his hips as he began to urgently grunt. He was close. Joan knew it. Soon her debt would be repaid.

"That's it," he growled. "Take me deeper into you." Joan could feel his shaft on her tongue and the head of his cock invading her throat. "Let me in and drink my seed."

Drink his seed, Joan wondered. It was then she realized that he wanted her to swallow his cum. He wanted her to ingest his seamen. She had never done that before. And she was not particularly keen to try it. But she did not want to disappoint Father Ben. Especially not when she was so close to bringing him to orgasm.

Suddenly Father Ben began talking in a low voice. A much deeper voice than she had ever heard him speak with. And similar to the chanting at the beginning of the exorcism, he was speaking in a language that she did not recognize.

He pushed himself all the way down her throat. Grabbing onto the back of her head, he yanked her face towards him. Her nose was buried in the course dark hair, which covered him between his legs. She could feel his organ swell. It seemed to grow even wider and longer as it filled her throat and blocked her air way. Joan began to panic. She placed her hands on the front of his thighs and tried to push him away. But he would not relinquish his grip on the back of her head.

"Not yet, young lady," he snarled. "We're not quite finished."

How much bigger could his cock possibly get? The shear girth of his staff was pressing against the inside walls of her esophagus. Joan feared that she would pass out from the lack of oxygen.

Father Ben continued to chant in the strange language. As his incantations became louder and faster, he seemed to reach some sort of a crescendo. Suddenly his member began to pulsate.

Joan could feel a sharp burning in her throat as something spurted out of the tip of his phallus. The fluid made it's way down to her esophagus and into stomach where Joan could feel a fiery heat in her belly. As Father Ben's member continued to release searing hot liquid, Joan wondered if all men's seamen was this hot. She had certainly expected it to be warm. But she did not think that it would actually burn. As the clergyman continued to cum, Joan wondered if it was typical for a man to produce so much seminal fluid when ejaculating. As it drained down into her stomach, her belly rumbled from the introduction of such an unfamiliar liquid. She was worried that she might be sick.

Finally he let out a loud heavy groan. And the pulsing of his organ lessened and eventually ceased. As he exhaled, he seemed to whisper something. Joan could not quite make it out. It sounded similar to, "Ave Maria." But that was not exactly it. The second word he uttered began with an "S."

As he withdrew from her mouth, the head of his cock was dragged across her tongue and a streak of seamen was wiped against its surface. "AH!" Joan shrieked. It tasted like a combination of unbearably strong spices. It was as though jalapeno juice and black pepper had been rubbed all over her tongue. "Why is it so hot?"

"What? My cum? It's just come out of me," Father Ben explained as if Joan were daft. "It's warm because of my body heat."

"It's not warm," Joan countered. "It's hot."

"The friction of your mouth made it hot."

"That doesn't make any sense." Joan looked up at him with a troubled expression of her face.

"Have you ever performed fellatio on anyone before?" Father Ben asked.

"No," Joan replied.

"Have you ever had anyone cum in your mouth before?"

"No, of course not."

"And have you ever touched seamen before?"

"Well, no ... "

"Then how would your presume to know what it should feel like?" the clergyman pointed out to the baffled teen.

"Well ... I ... it's just ... it burns." Joan stuck her tongue out of her mouth in an attempt to cool off her mouth.

"The bathroom's right there." Father Ben pointed down the hall. "You can rinse your mouth out or drink some cold water if you like."

"Yeah, I think I'll do that," Joan hesitantly agreed, arising from the coffee table.

As she headed off down the hallway, Father Ben suggestively said, "And when you get back, maybe there's more we could do."

Joan stopped walking for a moment and stood frozen in place. She could feel her stomach flip flop. Was Father Ben suggesting what she thought he was suggesting? Did he want to fuck her? Was she finally going to lose her virginity?

"Maybe ..." she responded right before she stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Joan swiftly turned on the cold water tap and grabbed a plastic cup, which was situated on the counter next to the sink. She briefly rinsed it out and then filled it half way with cool water. She brought it to her mouth, gargled and spat. That helped to reduce the burning feeling on her tongue.

She then refilled the cup with more water. She quickly gulped it down in an attempt to cool down the flaming sensation in her stomach. However, her insides still felt like they were filled with a spicy hot stew.

Joan looked in the mirror. What was happening? Ever since she had met Father Ben, everything in her life seemed to be thrown off kilter. Why did he not behave like a priest? Why was he not abstinent?

Not that Joan cared. If he did break his vows of celibacy, it was not her problem. And she did find him to be almost irresistibly attractive. The thought of sleeping with him was certainly tempting. But still, his cavalier and flagrant behavior disturbed her. Given his proclivities and lifestyle, why on earth did Father Ben choose to become a priest? It just did not make any sense.

As Joan peered at her own reflection in the mirror above the sink, something shiny caught her eye. The glare of the bathroom light was being reflected off of the necklace, which Father Ben had placed around her neck at the start of the exorcism. The Star of David. Because, as Father Ben had explained, Jesus had been Jewish. And there were mentions of demons in The Old Testament.

She fingered the pendant that rested against her chest, just above her small pert breasts. The Star of David. A five pointed star encircled by a metal ring. A five pointed star. Five points. Five points?

Suddenly Joan began to get a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. And this time it was not Father Ben's seamen that was making her ill. As Joan stared at the necklace in the mirror, something dawned on her. Father Ben had not given her a pendant of The Star of David. It was a pentacle. The star of Satan.

As this realization sank in, Joan's mind began to race. She thought about Father Ben's strange chanting in the cryptic unknown language. The fact that his seminal fluid was burning hot. His refusal to follow the rules of the Catholic Church. His lecherous attitude and actions. And he had given her a pentacle to wear.

Oh my god, Joan thought to herself. Not only was Father Ben not a real priest. He was something else entirely. Something much worse. Joan was not completely sure who she was dealing with. All she knew was that she needed to get out of the rectory. And she needed to get out right away.