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.”

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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.

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.

Warning: This contains subject matter that some would find offensive. Blasphemy included.

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 my soul said to be going to Hell. I don’t scare easy, and I have my dress picked out for my first dance with the Devil.

Sighing out, 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. Through the pages, I have written in the side notes, 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 traveling through the pages of ancient times. I got lost for a moment in my latest blasphemy fantasy.

“Sister Mary Catherine, what are you doing inside of there 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 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 Mary Catherine, 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. Losing t 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 to 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. 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 Mary Catherine 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 slide 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 bead 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 Mary Catherine had affected me that deep. Was my blasphemy fantasy taking my soul?

Fear is what I use 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?

The post Blasphemy Sunday Makes You Sin appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

Would it shock you to know that growing up I wanted to be a Nun? I guess some wouldn’t understand, but then again, either do I. It wasn’t for religious reasons, but more because I have a deviant mind. Pushing the limits seemed to be something that I had to do. Some will find this disturbing, but others might be able to relate to having an over active imagination.

Deviant: Departing from usual or accepted standards, especially in social or sexual behavior.

I started church at a young age. It was what upstanding people did. All week they live a sinful life and on Sunday let the Power Of Christ was away their deviant sins. I attended Holy Innocence Catholic Church with a friend of mine from school. She was what they now call non-binary, but back then I didn’t know what that mean. To me she was a tomboy. I guess I was a little bit of one too. I enjoyed playing in the mud and building forts as well. Barbies changed all that a few years later.

My deviant behavior started on day one. It was innocent enough. When that little basket came around to add the money for the church, I made a withdrawal. My parents didn’t send me with any cash and there was a little store on the way home. In my defense, they did pass it around and the money was just laying there. My friend watched but didn’t take anything. She knew better, but did enjoy the wealth after church when we bought candy. It was never a lot of money. Five bucks at the most, but my deviant mind didn’t stop there.

I admit, curiosity killed the cat when it comes to me. 

For years that’s all that it was, but then something happened. After graduation things took a turn for the better or worse? You decide. Suddenly the thought of church had a different effect on me. By then I learned that Nuns and Priests were forbidden from having sexual relationships. Honestly, not being able to cum would have killed me. I was a chronic masturbator and not a day went by that I didn’t cum. Not really too deviant, but I am sure God wouldn’t approve.

That’s when I really had to know. Do they enjoy the sins of the flesh, or are they really as uptight as they look. I found out the following Sunday that they were human after all. It was all by accident, but I call it divine intervention. It was Christmas Eve and I had already started working in the phone sex business. It was paying for college, so I thought God would forgive me.

My first call of the evening was from Canada. Nothing off there, but what did get my attention was the fact that he said he was a Priest and service would start soon. He wanted to cum before he welcomed the parishioners in for the evening. Honestly, I thought he was lying, but that wasn’t the case.

Is it bad that I made a Priest cum?

In a small room off of the main church this man whispered that he wanted me to give him JOI. That’s jack off instructions for anyone who doesn’t know. At first I hesitated, but then I grabbed my rosary rubbing the beads and told this man to stroke his filthy deviant cock. He did. I could hear it. Right as he was about to cum, I made him say the Lords Prayer and cum into his hand. When he asked what could he do with the seed, I knew right away. The church bells were ringing and the power I felt inside of me made me tremble.

“Go out to the entrance of the church and wash your hand off in the vessel of holy water!”

(By the way, this is a true story and it happened to me.)

The post Deviant Imagination Taken Down A Dark Path 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.

The post Blasphemy; How did you spend your Palm Sunday? appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

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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