Since the beginning of time, the fight between good and evil has been prevalent in the Catholic church. Most of it swept under the rug, well, until recent years. With the uncovering of molestation, the entire religion took a brutal hit from the believers and the non-believers—most of them taking a step back until the world moved on to its next conflict. The Catholic church is now under investigation for the sexual contact between Priests and young male parishioners. At Sacred Heart, that is only the tip of the iceberg where the abuse begins and ends.

Vanessa knew the moment she walked into the small chapel where the Nuns prayed she was in for the fight of her life. Someone opened the doors for the Devil and offered a soul to take. A young nun in exchange for a large amount of cash. What is one life when you have twenty more waiting to take her place?

As she entered the small foyer, the first thing Vanessa noticed was the aromatic scent of smoke. Not incense, but cigar smoke. It was pungent and burned her nose the moment she shut the oversized wooden door. There is no smoking allowed on the church grounds, and this was a place not accessible to anyone but the church staff. Heaven forbid, a Priest was not polluting himself with something as vile as smoking a cigar.

“Hello?” she called out. The doors to the main chapel opened only a crack. “You can’t smoke in here? It’s a church,” Vanessa added. As she stood frozen in place, the sound of a male clearing his throat came from the other side of the door. There was someone in there.

“Come in here, Sister,” the voice called out.

Vanessa stood for a moment. She knew the moment she opened the door, she would come face to face with the evilest being. Were the bowels of hell on the other side of the door and the scent she smelled flesh burning from the souls he stole? Or had someone made their way off the streets and ended up in the chapel? Was the voice the fear that she felt rushing through her veins, or was the male a temptation she could never resist? The questions boggled her mind with not only fear, but curiosity. To be lured to the other side of the wall is a test of faith and willpower. At 18, Vanessa was weak in both areas.

“Sister, you will do as I say,” he called out again. A soft tap of fingertips on the polished wood inside the chapel echoed out into the front of the building. The man is losing patience, and though unknown to the young nun, that is the last thing she wants to happen. An idle mind is the Devil’s playground, and though this man lives on the topside of the earth, his connections to hell run deep.

Vanessa slowly advanced, the tips of her fingers tapping on the doorknob. It’s something you do when you fear fire on the other side of the wall. Noticing it was cool, she slipped inside the room, not bothering to open the door any farther. Her petite frame allowed her to glide in without effort. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the change in light, but when they did, she noticed the man sitting at the front of the church. A billow of smoke rising from his lips. He sat there like a King without a crown.

“You can’t smoke in here. The Mother Superior strictly forbids anyone other than members of the church in this portion of the grounds. I can show you to the other church if you wish,” she spoke in a meek voice.

A loud burst of laughter radiated from the front of the church as the male ashed his cigar on the carpet of the old building. His eyes never diverted from the young nun who graced him with her presence. He knew she was attractive, but this girl had the face of an angel, and he was sure that under that bullshit the church forced her to wear, she was exquisite. He could almost taste the honey that poured from her core. Surely, he could smell her cunt through each layer of clothing.

“I can assure you that your Mother Superior has no reason to punish me for smoking here. She’s busy sucking the dick of the Bishop right now, so let’s leave her be, okay?” said the male. As he lifted his cigar to his lips again, she noticed the ring on his finger. Unable to make it out, Vanessa knew that was something special. Maybe this man was not the Devil after all, but then again, was he a wolf in sheep’s clothing? “Come forward and pray for me, sister. I am a sinner, and you need to ask God to forgive me for my indiscretions,” he laughed. Snapping his fingers to get her attention, he pointed to the ground in front of him where he sat.

“Down on your knees. You will take communion from me today,” he smirked.

Vanessa shook her head back and forth, her knees trembling as she advanced, “Please don’t ask this of me. I can’t do this.”

Sitting up, he pulled his zipper down, removing his flaccid cock from his pants. “Get on your fucking knees before I rip the back of your throat out with the head of my dick!”

Tears pouring down her cheeks, Vanessa advanced to kneel between the legs of the man, her eyes on his cock. She knew he intended to hurt her, and she feared the pain that came from within his soul. As Vanessa wrapped her hand tight with the rosary, the young nun moved in, her tongue slithering up the thick underbelly of his massive member. If he was this large at a soft stage, she knew when his erection raged on that she would taste blood in her mouth. Nothing about this man hinted at being loving and sensual.

Using the hand that held the cigar, he wrapped his fingers in the back of her veil. He slowly pushed her mouth down on his dick, not stopping until her warm oral cavity fully engulfed the semi-hard member. A soft growl and his hips pushed up to force the young nun to whimper for air. “Suck my cock, you fucking whore. Suck my dick for Jesus,” he laughed, releasing his hand only to ash the cigar in the middle of her back. His hand quickly went back to the veil she wore, holding it tight as his balls smacked her chin.

Gargles of saliva in her throat, Vanessa felt the tears pouring down her cheeks. She was gagging and choking when his cock reached the full erection, suddenly tasting the copper as it poured down her throat. He had no mercy on the young girl. As her nostrils flared, she fought for each breath she took, not knowing if that would be her last.

Grunting with every thrust, the male pulled back, leaning down to spit on her saliva-covered face. “In the name of God, forgive this little fucking slut for taking the seed of someone other than her husband,” he growled, pushing her head back down in his dick. Three more thrusts and the cum spilled from the head of his dick, ropes of heat flooding her throat. He would not stop until his balls once again sagged with relief.

Pouring from her mouth and nose, the semen of from man stained Vanessa with unbearable heat. Falling back, the young Nun lay on the chapel floor, her eyes fixed at dilated on the stained glass of the ceiling. Were the figure etched in glass laughing at her, or praising her for a job well done?

The male stood and pushed his cock back into the confines of his tailored slacks. As he hovered over the young nun, he pinched the cigar to collect up some of the ash with one finger. Leaning down, he placed the cross on her head with the soot, smirking. “I’ll make my donation on the way out. It was a good prayer session, Sister.”

The post Young Sister Honors Ash Wednesday appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

So delicate he parted her lips, the moment the sweet nectar touches his fingers, all of humanity drains from his soul. Not man, but beast, his nails scar the walls that bind them, A fury unleashed at depths that can never be repaired.
His hand to her neck, he reminded her where she belonged. He had already carved his name deep in her slick walls, the pads of his nails still covered with the memories. Shoving his fingers down her throat, he fed her his addiction. As the beast feasted on her body, the soul drained of all it’s mercy and hope.

The post Feeding the beast appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

Vanessa was in a state of adulterated shock. Not only did the young novitiate masturbate, but she took her first communion by bathing in the cum of the Priests. Her body frozen in time, Vanessa did not hear the soft footsteps behind her, but she did feel a feminine hand brush through her hair. Knowing immediately who it was, she trembled slightly, fearing that she would face another round of punishment.

“Sister, do you now understand the rules? Were you told the moment you took possession of your new role that we never allow masturbation? It is a sin and a waste,” Mother Superior said. As the older woman brushed her fingers through Vanessa’s hair, she took a single strand to wrap around her finger. Giving the hair a gentle tug will be the only reminder on this subject. Mommy Dearest has nothing on Mother Superior.

“I’m sorry. I know that I broke the rule, but I was weak, and the Devil commanded me to touch myself,” Vanessa confessed.

“Satan has many forms of temptation, but if you are to survive here, you must fight them. Tonight was a glimpse of the damage that you can cause. Do not invite the beast back into the home of the Lord. Do you understand me?” Mother asked.

With a simple nod given, Vanessa understood that she would no longer dip into the waters of the Devil. If it was a sin to satisfy the needs of your body, why was it not a sin for the Priest to jack their cocks all over her face? She would not ask, but it lingered in her mind as she picked herself up from the floor. “I will clean this floor and then shower,” she whispered.

As Vanessa collected cleaning supplies, she stopped for a minute to listen to voices down the chapel corridor.

“Keep her a virgin as long as possible. The more who see her, the higher the donation to the church,” said the male voice.

“I will try, but the child is discovering her body on her own. I caught her tonight touching her pussy,” Mother Superior responded.

A grunt from the male, Vanessa could tell he was upset. What did they expect of her? First, her pussy’s touched for the first time by a doctor. After that Mother Superior came in her mouth, and well then, the Priests covered her with their seed. She might be a nun, but she was still a human being with hormones.

“Take her to the baptismal pool when she finishes cleaning. I will cleanse her, and then she will always sleep in the room with you,” he said.

“My room? Why would I allow that nosy little girl in my room? I have needs as well,” growled the older woman.

The last thing Vanessa heard was a slap to the skin, a whimper, and Mother Superior apologizing for her actions. Taking the cleaning supplies and retreating to the chapel to clean, she did not look up when the good Mother joined her.

“When done, strip off your clothes and join me in the baptismal pool. Father will cleanse, and your room will now be with me,” she said, walking away in a huff.

Vanessa’s eyes widened. All she had on was the robe she wore to the chapel earlier. It would be the second time tonight she removed that soft terry robe. Dropping the clothing to the ground, the young Nun turned, walking to the chapel’s smaller room. The church does total submersion baptisms, but usually, you wear a sheer white gown. The moment Vanessa walked into the room; she found the old Priest fully naked in the water.

“Oh, dear Lord,” she whimpered, her hand covering her mouth in shame. There are people in this world that you should never see naked. She knew that the good old Priest was one of them.

“Come, my child. Join me in the holy waters,” whispered the Priest. “Mother Superior, please join young Vanessa in the pool,” he added.

Both young and old Nun walked up the three steps, stepping into the calm waters of the baptismal pool. Vanessa was shivering the moment she submerged herself in the holy bath.

Father Johnathan held out his hands. One for each girl to accept. As they both walked forward, they knew to kneel before the holy man. As they knelt, he pushed his cock between the two, guiding their heads forward with the palm of his hands. “Take me in your mouths and take the blessings that the Lord has provided for you both,” he whispered.

“Yes, Father,” both women said in unison. They each took one side of the Father’s cock with open mouths, their tongues bathing the shaft in their saliva.

Moaning, Vanessa rolled her tongue up one side, meeting Mother Superior at the tip, both women flicking the pointed tips around the slit of his cock. Saliva poured from their mouths, floating in the blessed waters.

Panting, the good Father looked to the elder Nun, nodding for her to push Vanessa down on his cock, her throat taking the brunt of the depth. Gasping for air, Vanessa felt the first tears run down her cheeks.

“Take it, sister. You must take the blessing of Jesus down your throat. It will bless you after the sins of defiling yourself tonight,” Mother said.

Vanessa cried as she swallowed the cock, her throat stretching to take more inside. She wondered if she was wrong for touching herself. Why were the Priests from earlier not punished for soiling her face? Vanessa learned the hard way there is a hierarchy in the church, and she is at the bottom of the pool when it comes to having rights.

“All of it, Sister,” Father Johnathan said. “Do you take communion tonight?” he asked.

Gurgling, her head nodded back and forth as a warm flow of semen poured down the back of her throat. His cock spasmed, flooding the teen with an enormous amount of hot, creamy liquid.

“Do not spill it. Not a drop,” Mother Superior warned.

Guzzling cum, sister Vanessa swallowed as the elder Nun used her hand to pump the girl’s throat, feeding her the offering. Mother Superior milked the father into Vanessa’s throat until his balls hung empty and low.

As his fingers clutched the side of the pool, the older male cleared his throat, his voice husky, “Do you repent for your earlier actions? Do you want forgiveness?” he added.

As she pulled back, a thin line of saliva still connected them as one, “I do. Please, Father, I am guilty of sin and want the blessings of the Lord to cleanse my soul.”

The older Priest nodded, a smile creasing his lips, “So be it. Return to your room and do not repeat the actions.”

The post Young Novitiate Bathed For Her Sins appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

Everyone whether they want to admit it or not, has a fantasy that someone else would consider disgusting. Do I? Sure, but there is a difference between me and the normal person. I am not afraid of what people think of me. My life is an open book for the world to read. I’ve opened the doors to my dirty little secrets, so, are you ready to hear my fantasy?

His words penetrated her soul with a fever that no traditional medication could control. Wicked, his eyes boring holes into her frame as he sat across the room watching the young blonde undress. Each article of clothing tailored to fit, but she removed them as though they were thrift store quality. Money was never an object when he was involved. She would rip each thread from the silk in which it was sown if he demanded. She stopped at the panties, the red ones he sent to her the night before. Lace bikini cut with a small red bow on the band. They resembled the ones Victoria Secret used to entice men into the store. The difference with him though, was that these were the trophy from the last conquest. His bad habit was taking the panties from his victims.

“Leave them on. I don’t want to see your cunt, well, not yet at least,” he vocalized.

She moved across the floor like a cat stalking her prey, stopping only inches from his large frame. God dammit, why was he the drug she craved more than any other? Her lungs expanding with argumentative breath, she struggled with the intensity. Smirking, her crimson lips curling up, even the Cheshire cat would be jealous of her smile. A swift strike of her tongue over her bottom pillow, she moistened the stain with a saliva gloss. Yes, yes, he would like that. Her mouth wet for him. He never said a word, but she heard him inside of her head. He didn’t need to speak. She knew.

“May I?” she whispered.

“May you, what?” he laughed.

“Let you rape my throat with your cock,” uttered the young blonde.

His hand moved down to the jeans he wore, grabbing the crotch of his pants with a rough grip. He was taunting her, and she knew it.

“Are you a good girl?” he asked.

Her head shook from side to side as she smiled, “No, no I’m not. I am a cock craving whore.”

As a master would call his dog, his hand slowly tapped his pants to advance her to his lap. Sighing, his hands now on the side of the chair, he waited. She didn’t expect him to help, did she? Of course, not. A cock craving whore knows her place on the food chain.

“Thank you,” her body shook as she whispered.

Slowly taking the space between them away, her slender digits working down his zipper with ease. The button next, one slip of her hand and she released him from the confines of his pants. It was at the point, that she used the tip of her finger to push a strand of drool that escaped from the side of her mouth. Looping the saliva around her finger, she pushed it back into her warm mouth, pulling back with a soft suck. God, wait, there was no God present here. All she wanted was her throat to be ripped from her body and used as a cock sleeve for this man. He intoxicated her soul.

He pushed his body back in the chair, lifting a bit to allow the release. As he placed his hands behind his head and laced his fingers, he waited. She knew what to do. They all knew. A breath exhaled, he was tired of waiting, and she would know that before the night was over.

As though a serpent, her tongue perched between her lips, tasting the air around. Fuck, he was delicious, and she hadn’t yet tasted his nectar. Slithering up the underbelly of his cock, her tongue followed the thick vein from his sac to the head. A flicker back and forth, she painted his cock with an overabundance of saliva. Every stroke of her tongue caused her body to tingle with a wanton desire.

“Umf,” he muttered.

Both hands on the floor to brace herself, she wrapped those pretty lips around the head of his cock, engulfing to the rim. A slow roll of her tongue, she fucked the slit with the tip of her oral muscle, pulling back with a sudden pop. Eyes to his, her lips in a well-defined whistle as she blew on the damp mushroom. Inch by inch, she engulfed him, her crimson prints left around the base of his thick cock. As much as she tried, the gag reflex was too strong. Choking on the size, her mouth slowly retracted, saliva pouring the moment her lips released the meat.

“No!” his voice boomed like a clap of thunder.

H reached out, grabbing the back of her head and forced his cock against the seal of her lips. With force, his hand pushed down, the head of his cock threatening to break her teeth if she didn’t comply. Lacing his fingers in the soft strands of her hair, he didn’t stop until every inch of his dick stretched her mouth to capacity.

“Bitch, do you choke?” he asked, yanking her head back, looking into her shocked eyes.

“No, no we don’t choke,” she whimpered.

He pushed her head down hard, the head of his cock pushing deep into her throat, holding tight to stop her from pulling away. It wasn’t about what she wanted, but about what he needed. Forcing his hand back with regret, no sooner did he give her a breath did he take it back away. There is giving head, and then there is this. Throat fucking with a jackhammer speed, the head of his cock causing her mouth to bleed from the size. One after another, his thrust causing him to lift from the seat to impale her on the length. No longer a concern as long as she kept her mouth open, he used it for his pleasure.

Gasping, her face turned blue from the lack of oxygen. Crying with each thrust, her eyes widened, the streaks of mascara running down her cheeks. Cheeks bulging, her lips burned from the stretch. Her pain was his pleasure, and the more she gagged, the closer to cumming he was. Her nostrils flare as his hand restrained her head, holding her throat to the point of collapsing around the bridge of his cock.

“Fuck, eat that fucking cum,” his voice raspy as he demanded.

She opened her eyes with the first hit of scalding fluid down her throat. His nuts resting on her chin, he dumped them down her greedy throat in waves of lava from the head of his dick. Her cheeks expanded, filling them to resemble a chipmunk stuffing nuts in for the winter. In her case, she was on a liquid diet. Pure protein.

He exhaled deep, leaning back as his hand released her hair, pushing her back from the oversensitive head of his cock.

“Go clean yourself up. You’ll do better next time,” he laughed, lighting the half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray.

The post Fantasy Or Reality – You Choose appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

Disclaimer. This is pure fantasy. Nothing here is real.

During my life as an Escort, I have done some things I have been proud of, and some I am ashamed of. This one lays right there in the middle of the road. I had a client who asked for something specific. He wanted me to be a Nun. I am not Catholic, so I don’t play by the rules of the church, but for the most part, I have some sort of morals. Well, I thought I did at least. If you’re easily offended, skip this bit of writing.

“You have an outfit you are to wear on the date. Just ask Janice for the box.”

Dave was very straight to the point and cold, but he was in this business to make money, not friends. He reminded me of that many times. Being the warm soul that I am, at times found this to be hard.

Standing in the foyer of the office, I lifted the lid to the outfit and burst out in a fit of laughter. It was a Nuns habit. He wanted me to be a Sister for him. Everything was once a first, and this right here was shocking. Inside the box was the black habit, some rosary beads, and crucifix, and a bible. Even just looking at this stuff made my stomach quiver. The note at the bottom made me shake though.

“You are to dress in the outfit and meet me at St. Paul’s cathedral. Be there at 9 pm for a confession. You will be using the 3rd confessional from the right. Do not be late.”

Holy fuck, he was going to make me attend church like this. What does a fake Nun do at a church? I don’t even know how to be a good, or bad, Catholic.

At 8:57 pm I arrived dressed in the habit, the bible in my hand, and the beads hanging from the belt. I googled the proper way to wear the outfit. The only thing off was that I did have makeup on, and I was wearing a very seductive perfume. I figured he would know it was me by my scent. I think real Nuns are forbidden from wearing anything that enhances their appearance. I am not a real Nun though.

My head kept its gaze to the floor, walking into the confessional that I was instructed to sit in. A little shock was that there was a prayer candle, a lighter, and some holy water inside. Something told me this was going to be a very deviant act. I will admit that I am worried about the afterlife now. I was about to be paid for something so deviant, so morally wrong, that I knew I would rot in hell for it.

A slide of the window and this voice spoke softly. He wasn’t the devil. He was a human being, but was he a Father? A Priest? God, what if I was about to speak filthy to a Man of the cloth.

“In the name of the Father, and the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was never.”

I heard the sigh from the other side. Maybe he wanted me to be Catholic. I’m not of any faith, so this would all be new to me. I went to church as a child, but never as an adult. I felt my life choices wouldn’t be accepted, and I never went back. I am sure my parents are not understanding that.

“I want you to take the rosary and insert the beads one at a time in your asshole. You will leave the cross to hang. You will feel it pressing against your flesh. Do it now!”

His voice changed a bit. When I think later, I will claim that Satan at this point entered his body and was commanding through him. I know this is not possible, but I honestly then felt I was sitting with the Devil himself.

Spitting on the beads, I pushed the first one in my asshole, each one felt rough to the touch, and as though it was ripping into my anal cavity. I was sure this was just my mind working overtime here. How could this man afford this? I was thinking the entire time that maybe he has stolen my fee from the collection basket. He was getting off with a whore and using the money that the church collected for the homeless, and the sick. I am a fucking sinner!

“Father, it’s in. All of the beads are in my ass and the cross is resting on my vagina.”

I just said vagina to a holy man. My mind was calling me every filthy name ever created.

“Take the prayer candle and slid it in your cunt. Fucking your sin slit with it. Now Sister.”

What the hell was wrong with this Man? He was making me fuck my whore pussy with something that had been blessed and placed there to resolve the sins of the lost. I did as I was told, and the moment that slender white pillar candle pushed through my tight slit, I felt a release. I came. How the fuck does one cum this way? Placing my hand to my mouth, I whimpered through to rush of sin that flooded my body, not wanting to alert anyone of my deviance. I could hear his jacking off in the other confessional. He was raping his cock with his hand, fucking himself to my sickness.

“You came, whore? You came all over the Father?”

I admitted to my sin, and that’s when it went silent for a moment. My door opened quietly and this Priest stood before me. Pushing my head back, looking down into my face, his cock was placed right on my lips. He was hard as a rock and his face. Oh god, his face was evil. It was pure evil.

Opening my mouth, he shot his cum right there on my tongue. It was scalding hot and tasted horrid. I never had tasted anything like it in the past. I hope to never taste it again.

“I absolve you of all your sins, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen”

Leaning down, he lit the candle that was still inside of my pussy, and he was gone. I don’t know if I did this with a real Priest, but I feel as though something unholy went through my body that night. Something so dreadful that I will forever burn in hell. Funny thing is, I never came like that in the past. Never had I felt like I was completely on fire.

The post Blasphemy At It’s Finest appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

Settled down for the night, the coolness of the early fall air brought out the big blankets. Living by the beach was ten to twenty degrees cooler than inland, but tonight a layer of fog added to it. There is a place where you’re not quite awake, but sleep hasn’t consumed you yet. When the loud sound of the door opened, I knew this was just another night terror. As much as I would try to work my way out, there was always something dragging me deeper.

I was startled, sitting up and looking through the smoke that now filled my bedroom, leaving me confused and bewildered. Standing in the frame of the door was the most ungodly sight. Eight feet tall, the man’s skin not human it looked as though there were scales like a dragon instead of flesh.

“Get out,” I screamed.

“Not yet,” he said, grabbing my ankles, yanking me from the bed, “You’ll need to come with me. I have a bet to settle.”

Screaming, my heart raced like a freight train coming down the tracks. I wanted out of this dream before something terrible happened. “What the fuck are you doing? Leave me alone,” I screamed as my ass hit the floor, and I was drug through the open door. Nail marks would be the breadcrumbs left on the floor. I dug so deep that I knew I would never get those scratches out of the wood. Why was I even worried when for all I knew, I would never come back? When the Devil comes knocking at your door, you better believe that’s your final moving day.

It was the smell of fire that hit me first. Well, that, and his hands. His digits long and slender, they clawed into my flesh with a vice-like grip. Even if I tried to break free, there was no way I would be able to get out of his clutches. He was hundreds of pounds heavier, and his strength that of ten men.

The descent into hell seemed as though it took a lifetime, every horrible thing I had ever done passing before my eyes. I never wanted to remember some of the memories, but this wasn’t for me. It was a bet, but between who, and why me? All I wanted to do was get a good night’s sleep, and this happened.

Screaming skulls staked to the wall, the rancid arms reaching out to grab me as I fell. God help me, please let this be a dream. If I’m dead, incinerate me rather than send me to the bowels of the earth. I don’t care what the bet was. There was no way this was a good thing for me.

I hit the ground hard, my ass plopping down on a bed of rocks, each one piercing into my soft ivory flesh. Crying, it took me a minute to realize it was me who was calling out to God to have mercy on my soul. The laughter of others echoed through the dark cavern. All the inhabitants amused that I still had hope that a God even existed.

“Get up,” a female whispered. The woman’s hand in my hair, she yanked me up, pointing me in the male’s direction who stole me from my bed. He now sat on a red crushed velvet throne. The legs of the chair human hands that bled out each time he adjusted himself in the seat. The chair seemed to be alive, but at this point, I questioned nothing. We learned in church that some would find themselves in their own private hell in the end. I could only imagine what the man did who was now an elaborate seat for the demon dweller.

I teetered on falling. I stood at the base of the rocks, looking up at the man, my mind still wondering what this bet was, and why me. There were no words from me when another male appeared at his side, his body stripped of all its clothing. The first thing I noticed was the enormous cock that hung between his muscular legs. Sure, cock wasn’t a new sight to me, but I had never seen anything like this. Nor did I ever want to. The veins on his manhood almost pulsating the moment he saw me standing before him. God help me, what was this bet?

As he would later tell me, the Devil bet this man that there was no way I could deep throat his cock. The man was sure that I could, and if I did, he would get a second chance at life. Is this how this shit works? They always say never to make a deal with the Devil, but I guess no one ever told him what happens if you lost.

“You WHAT?” I screamed. My eyes never on his face, stared directly at the beast between his legs, pray that I woke from this dream soon.

“If anyone can do it, you can. The guys down here talk about you when they beat off at night. Everyone says for the best little cocksucker in Los Angeles, to look you up,” he laughed. With his hand on his cock, stroking it, all I could think was this had to be hell if he made it any bigger? If the man impaled me on that cock he would penetrate my stomach through my mouth.

I blinked, shaking my head from side to side, “No fucking way. That thing will kill me. I pointed, my finger drew an outline of his cock, gasping when I realized it had to be a foot long.

The Devil threw his head back, roaring in laughter, as did all his minions that rested by his side. They followed the leader, knowing better than to dismiss anything he said.

“You don’t think I can do it?” I glared. What the fuck was wrong with me. I argued over whether or not I could deep throat this son of a bitch. Whose bet was this anyway?

Giddy with excitement, the man could barely wait for the Devil to give him the go-ahead. The minute he did, I regretted it. It seems that it’s been four-hundred years since this man had sex. In hell, they use the earth for their porn. Each of them watching couples fuck while they jack off. The only one allowed to have physical sex is the Devil himself.

Grabbed from behind, I fell to my knees, looking right at the monster cock, almost salivating for a taste. I didn’t want this cock. Why the fuck was my mouth watering for a drink from the man’s dick? My head yanked back. He slapped this thick bulbous head on my lips. A smear of pre-cum glossing my soft pillows, I opened for him without even being asked. A slither of his cock across my tongue, and he pulled back, laughing at the Devil. This man knew that I could take it. If there is one thing I know how to do, it’s take a cock down my throat.

“Feed me,” I growled. I meant it. There was a craving inside of my stomach that tightened just knowing I would soon gag with every inch the male forced inside of my gulping throat.

His hand knotted in my strands of silken locks as he pushed into my mouth, letting the head slide slowly over my tongue. I could already taste his fluids. Not sweet, but as hot as the fires of hell. They scorched the flesh on my tongue, causing a whimper to vibrate against the shaft. God, help me. I wanted to take all of him deeper. To have my throat torn from my body and used as a masturbation sleeve for his cock. My eyes sealed shut, tears running down my face, his cock reached the back of my throat. A deep guttural grunt from the man, and he shoved every inch in until his balls rested on my chin. I was choking from lack of air, but none of this concerned the male. He wanted bragging rights and to walk the earth again.

Yanked from his cock, I moved to the table of sacrifice, my body stretched out as my head dangled from the metal surface. It was not cold like I expected. No, it was burning hot, and the smell of my clothing burning repulsed me. Once again, his cock plunged into my throat. One thrust and he was fully engulfed inside of my oral cavity. This time his hand went to my throat, jacking himself off from the outside in.

“You son of a bitch, she did it,” the Devil screamed.

Sitting straight up in bed, my hands on my throat as I choked, I don’t know if this was a dream or not, but my clothing smells of burning flesh, and the scratches across my floor will never be repaired.

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Sunday morning, Palm Sunday to be exact. As a young and naïve girl, I sat in the front with the other soon-to-be sisters, rubbing the cross that hung around my neck as a symbol of faith. The pads of my fingers caressing the fine gold, pressing hard into the figure that rested on the cross. Some would say this was blasphemy to wear a symbol that represented the death of Christ, but as a young novitiate, I knew my calling was more important than the views of nonbelievers. God placed me in the arms of Jesus because I would be a faithful wife for his only son, but would I be the best choice for a man such as Jesus Christ? Until recently, I would have responded to that with a yes. I will still take my vows with an open mind and heart, but inside of me, there is a fire that burns hotter than the pits of hell—an awakening.

“Bow your head for prayer,” he said. The Archbishop giving the service this morning, I could listen to his voice forever. In a soothing tone, he always could take me to a new level of peace. If my body were fighting a war, he would wave the white flag with his words. God works in mysterious ways, and this man was a disciple of the Lord. Why was my heart pounding, though? I never fear the commitment or the words, but right now, he spoke of Resurrection Sunday. That is the day I will marry for the first and last time. The day that Jesus places on my finger his ring of everlasting love and dedication. Heaven help me. Why was my heart beating so hard?

“You will be asked if you take your vows of commitment, chastity, and poverty? Can each one of you with an open heart respond to that question with truth and honesty?” he asked.

I felt his eyes on me, or was that a play by the Devil to pull me back from the altar? A sudden warmth flooding my body, my veins pouring molten lust into my heart as I remember the night before. God help me. I remembered it so vividly.

Alone in my room, or what would be my room for one more week, the walls seemed so bare. Only a crucifix over the bed, I missed my bedroom in my parent’s home. Colorful and full of life, the walls adorned with paintings and family portraits. It was so unlike this room. As my eyes closed, my mind came alive with thoughts that should never enter the mind of a Nun. A feeling of warmth beneath the thin white blanket that covered my body, I was not alone. Something, someone, crept from under the bed, his body slithered like a serpent between my slender thighs. All that I could think was, “I can’t look. I can’t do it.”

“Please stop. Please,” I whispered, not wanting to wake the others. Though I have my own room, the walls are as thin as a sheet of paper. Even if someone rolls over in their bed, everyone can hear the squeak.

“Shhh, be still, child. I won’t hurt you,” he said in a low whisper. He? Who was he? Was this Jesus? Or was this, God help me now. His heavy breathing sent waves of warmth through the room.

Tongue to the flesh, his lips moved up my inner thigh, stopping only to rip the thin white panties baring his way to the core of my heat. Long slithering laps of his skilled oral muscle against my chaste pink lips, the warmth of his breath kissed over the pathway to a tiny bundle of sin. A swirl around the flesh, he avoided that button that he knew would send my voice ringing through the corridor. Instead, his mouth fell to the sealed barrier that kept my innocents intact. Only the outer lips tasted. I nourished his thirst with the sweetest nectar known to man. Pure honey dripping down my ass in a thin line, not a drop wasted. He collected it all on the tip of his tongue, sliding up my body to feed me straight from the hive. He hovered over my mouth, dribbling the cream upon my lips. Though I tried not to taste it, my self-control failed me once again.

“Mmm, feed me more,” I whispered.

“Sister, are you paying attention,” Mother Superior demanded. As the older woman stood there, her eyes knew the truth.

“Yes, Ma’am. I am sorry, Ma’am. I slept poorly last night,” I whispered.

Shaking her head, “We all know. We heard the nightmare that came from your bedroom.”

As I sat in disbelief, I prayed not for my sins but that he would come again and quench my newfound thirst.

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A blasphemy fantasy might scare some, but I am the kind of girl who finds the spiritual side of life taboo. Growing up, having my knuckles whacked with a ruler, and told my soul was going to Hell. I don’t scare easily, and I have my dress picked out for my first dance with the Devil.

Sighing out loud, it was Sunday morning, and I had missed Mass again. It was becoming a sad routine for me. I had even laid out a dress, heels, and stockings on the chair by the bed. Of course, my bible rested on the top of that pile. I never go to church without it. I have written in the side notes through the pages, but I added pictures to go along with the verses I love.

A temptress can lead a Man to temptation. One look into her eyes and she will force you from grace and be your guide to Hell. My notes in this area come with pictures that show acts of blasphemy and whispers of how the Devil’s temptations taunt us.

As I sat on the edge of the bed, my long red nails traveled through the pages of ancient times. I got lost for a moment in my latest blasphemy fantasy.

“Sister Gypsy, what have you been doing inside for so long?”

The young Nun had been in the confessional for an hour now, the line outside growing. On the cusp of the holy season. The church had been preparing for the influx of parishioners.

Settled back in the tiny wooden room, the prayer candle now worked in and out of her holy hole. On the other hand, Father Jacob had blown four loads inside the small confines of the booth. What would happen if found?

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been a day since my last confession, and last night, I did something horrible. I am ashamed and need forgiveness for my sins.”

Father Jacob had since pulled his dick from beneath the robe. The bible is now on the floor and collecting drops of his precum on the pages. Fluid leaked as he stroked and listened to the new Nun tell her about her miss deeds and failures.

“I left my room at 3 am to get a drink of water from the kitchen. Walking by Father Michael’s room, I heard the sounds of lust. He was calling out for women. Vile words came from his room, and I thought I could help him. Help him sleep through the suffering.”

She went on to tell of how she entered the room and found him pounding away at his fist. He was jerking off and calling out all the names of the Nuns in the parish. Her hand was now rubbing her clit hard, soaking her fingers to the knuckles.

“Sister Gypsy, please! People are waiting for this room!”

The Mother Superior was getting quite agitated with her. She needed to confess what she had done with the Father and how she had lived out her blasphemy fantasy.

“Father, he was in so much pain. His penis engorged with fluids. I tried to help by stroking him. My fingers were wrapping around the thick, elongated shaft. The more I pumped, the harder he got. That’s when he suggested I place him in my mouth and take communion from him.”

The Father was now stroking harder as the Nun explained the events of her first blow job how she tried so hard but couldn’t get him to blow a load.

“At first, I licked him. Long strokes up and down his cock. Then he suggested that I take him deep into my mouth. I almost cried when his hand forced my head down. He was so hard and beastly. His member was raging.”

She massaged over her wetness, forcing the candle in and out of her pussy. She was supposed to be a virgin, but the night before had taken that. She lost her virginity to the Father, who she tried to help the night before. The white pillar candle that she now used still had traces of red staining.

As I sat on the bed writing this, I knew that I would be going to Hell in the afterlife. How could I not? Everything about this was wrong, but I could see it all in my mind while writing it.

“Father Michael was in horrible pain. He asked me to place him inside of my womanhood. To allow his cock to break my bindings with God. I wore my wedding ring as I grabbed his cock. When I wrapped my fingers around him and inserted him in the seal, I felt my finger burning. I know that God was watching me and casting stones on me. Oh, God, Father Jacob, I allowed him inside of me fully!”

The Father in the booth coaxed her to go on. She knew he was jerking off. She could hear his hand rubbing over his dick. He was bringing himself to orgasm after orgasm with her dirty words.

“I’m scared, though, Father. He pushed all the way in and relieved himself. He told me I would be carrying his baby now. A child would be inside of me, and I would have to hide it from the others. How, Father, how can I hide his child? I can’t do this. I wanted to help him, and he gave me a baby.”

Her words stopped as she finally came. She knew she was pregnant with his child and that blasphemy fantasy made her pussy squirt. Sister Gypsy had come where there should never be filth.”

Replacing the candle on the wall and pulling her robe down, the young Nun, still flush-faced and ran from the room. She told them she was ill and had fallen asleep in the arms of the lord. Of course, no one can fault her for that. Jesus is where she should feel safe.

Exhaling deep, my hand slid into the dresser to my right. My favorite dildo now in my hands. If I couldn’t go to church, I would pray at home. Taking the rosary beads from the nightstand, I dipped them in lube and bead, by bead, I slid them into my asshole. Only the cross was showing when done. It rested on my asshole and tickled a little.

The bible laying now on my stomach, I shivered from the power behind it. I know the words hold so much to them that instead of watching porn, I held the book up and read. Hell is where I was going when I slid that dick inside of me. That fake one that felt like a dagger plunging into my core. How deviant can one fall before worried? I will let you know when I find out.

“Our Father, thou art in heaven.”

She moaned out. The words never held a lot of meaning until now. I was soaking wet from this. I was saturated so much that the tiny replica of Jesus that hung out of my ass made wet slaps. Would God forgive me for this one? Would he chalk it all up to a blasphemy fantasy? Or would he shove me down to the fire pits of Hell and let me rot?

Clenching my cheeks around the threaded beads, my cunt exploded into a river of lust. Not before I placed the bible between my legs and caught all the splattering juices. I have never in my life came with that intensity or power. All I needed was for the control of Christ to compel me. Shaking as I laid in the bed of body fluids, lust, and sin, I couldn’t quite understand how I came that intense and how Sister Gypsy had affected me that deep. Was my blasphemy fantasy taking my soul?

Fear is what I used to feel from a blasphemy fantasy, but something inside of me changed. I now feel as though it is the one thing that makes me feel the most alive. Realizing that I have already sealed my fate could be the reason. My spot on the throne of Hell is waiting for me. No longer will I fear what controls me. I will embrace it. I know that I am never going to heaven, so why fight it?

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When did I fall from grace? I am not sure there was an exact moment, but when it happened, I couldn’t go back. I knew that the like of sin was the one for me. First off, let me begin by saying I have always been a good Catholic. Private girls school, catechism classes, and my life given to God in a huge ceremony. My family went all out for the party afterwards, but something shut off inside of me that day. The light inside of me suddenly went dim and dark. Maybe it was walking in on the family Priest and one of the altar boys, or that I found porn hidden under the family bible. Either way, I think all of it added up to who and what I am today.

One of my first diabolical acts was so bad that I might have sealed my passage into hell. If not, I am damn close to ending up in the hottest place on earth. Closing my eyes, I can still remember it all.

Sunday morning was always a dreaded day for me. Who wants to get up when they don’t have to and sit through mass? Not me. I would rather be laying on the beach drinking a margarita. The night before I had pulled out a short pink skirt, white blouse, and some stockings. You know, the ones with the lacy elastic band around the thighs. Sitting on top of the perfectly folded clothing was my rosary. I had gotten that very one when I was still a child. A gift from my parents for getting straight A’s. God forbid they just give me money like everyone else’s parents did.

It was at that very moment when I knew today would be different. Slipping on the outfit, I made sure there was not a wrinkle to be seen. Another pet peeve of my mothers is wrinkled clothing. That woman even irons her undies. Other than the rosary, the last thing was my 5 inch spiked stiletto heels. I love the way they make my legs look. I sat on the edge of the bed in front of a full length mirror and spread my legs. Did I mention that I forgot the panties? Well, I did. Rolling the beaded part of the rosary up, I pushed them in my tight bald pussy and left the cross to dangle out. Perfect accessory for that outfit. Pushing it back and forth over my lips, I felt a tingle deep inside. I was getting wet just from the thought of going to church this way.

Holy Innocents Catholic Church was the one I chose. It’s not my home church, but I thought better of going there. My parents would attend and well, nothing good could happen if they did. I would never do something like I had planned with them around. The moment I walked into the building, my nose burned from the pungent aroma of incense. Rubbing my fingers under each nostril, it was impossible to fight that odor. For fuck sakes, it was so strong that I would be shocked if some old person didn’t have an asthma attack. I have perfect lungs and still found it hard to breathe.

Stopping only to apply holy water, I did a second dip, but this time not for my forehead. One glance around and my nimble little fingers slipped to my lower lips, blessing the cross that dangled from my pussy. I knew it wasn’t possible, but a spark of electricity raced through my pulsating veins. I had never in my life felt so alive as I did at that moment.

Pushing forward, the only seat I wanted was in the front row. Nothing else would give me the satisfaction that I needed. Thankfully for me, the front row was completely empty, and the moment I sat on that well polished bench, a little clink from the rosary on the wood made me giggle. As my eyes scanned the room, I noticed the small table in front. Shit, it’s communion Sunday. I completely forgot about the date. Oh well, that might make this entire trip a little more fun.

Father Samuel Martinez was doing the service. I had met him one time in the past, but I was just a child and looked a lot different than I do now. He was middle aged when I met him before, but now, this man was closer to death than anyone I had ever known. Father Sam dressed in the traditional Priest garb, but then again, that’s what I wanted today. As he stood in front of the congregation spewing his words of how God gave his only son for our sins I decided to find out just how much is forgiven.

A glance to the right, then to the left, I moved in my seat, opening my legs enough to give the old man a clear view of my cross adorned pussy. Holding a bible in my hands, I whispered the verse he was quoting, but my legs stayed open. Peeking over the top of the tattered old book, there was no doubt that he saw my pussy. Adjusting the collar of his gown, the poor old man began to sweat. Dribbles of perspiration poured from his forehead as a smirk creased my lips. Knowing full well I had his attention, I pushed a hand between my legs and slowly pulled the rosary from my tight bald pussy. Bringing the cross to my lips nonchalantly, I kissed the crucifix, tasting my pussy for the first time. Sweet as honey, I sucked the little trophy between my lips, holding it there for a moment. It was at that moment that I might have gone a little too far.

Father Samuel clutched his chest, pointing to me as he fell from the altar. The funeral is next week. Should I wear black?

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