The sweet smell of her innocence still stained his fingers. Her skin like silk, he had to touch her even though he felt the list of sins growing. She wasn’t his prize to take, but god dammit, he would have every inch of her body marked with his filth before he was done. Pure as new fallen snow, he would taint her body with layers of shame.

The moment her curves formed they sent her away to the safest place possible. The church had small dorm rooms for girls that secluded them from the Priests for the safety of both. Whispers in the halls told of a shame that scalded the church with secrets that no one dared to speak of. If they did, Satan himself would unleash his fury on the inhabitants of the holy house.

“Why did they send you away, my child,” he asked.

Tears flooding down her cheeks, she honestly was confused. She had done nothing different. Worn all the same clothing, though it now fit much too tight. Her breasts striking, hips round, and that face. Once you drank in her beauty, every carnal need would heighten to a enraged need to devour her. Own her in ways that a man of the cloth should never think of. She would be safe there. Or would she?

“My mother said it was time. That’s all I know,” her voice cracked as she spoke.

Underneath the robe of the priest, the emotions grew. Her being as naive as she was made his manhood twitch in ways that it shouldn’t. His pulse quickened, but he needed to remain calm, for now at least. He didn’t want to frighten her, but surely she had to know the power she held over men. He was a man of the cloth and even he was having a hard time stopping the urge to take this little succubus right there in the middle of the church.

Reaching for her hand, reassuring the young woman would build her confidence. He would get what he wanted, but it would be so much easier if she spread those thighs open on her own free will.

“You were sent because you’ve developed into a beautiful young woman. The curve of your breasts, hips, and even the color of your skin. They could see that a woman such as yourself could lure even the holy father into a life of sin,” he confessed.

Shocked, she moved her hands down her body, feeling the changes that she hadn’t noticed. Was he right? Was she so bad that even God would risk meeting the Devil because of her? It was at that moment that she felt both filthy and powerful. Something he hadn’t predicted was the smile that creased her lips. Not one of embarrassment, but one of hunger.

Dismissed for the night, the seed now planted in her mind, her core ached from the raging fire building within. She needed to be alone in her room, and quickly. The urge to touch herself now dripping down her silky flesh.

The room was small. Just a bed and a dresser. Still, it was better than the one she had at home. If she touched herself, would she burn in hell forever? It was a risk she was willing to take. The hunger stronger than it had ever been before.

Slipping from her clothing, she folded each article and placed it on the dresser. A simple stark white gown is what she would sleep in. Pure as she was, the gown fully covered her starving body. Not for food, but for touch. The cross on the wall seemed to loom over her the moment she slipped under the blankets. It felt as though the eyes of Jesus watched her as he hung on that beautiful cross. It was then that she felt what the Priest spoke of. Her hands moving down, tracing over the curves, she felt like a dirty girl. No, a filthy one. The heat beneath the blanket scalding her flesh as she pushed the gown up, tracing a single finger over her swollen nipple.

“Mmm god,” she whispered.

The soft mound rising to peeks, her hands cupped her breasts, the entire thing filling her hand. They were right. She was growing bigger than most. Her lip now clenched tight between her teeth, she moved a hand down between her legs, dampness now soaking the white panties she wore. If anyone seen them surely she would be in trouble, but she couldn’t stop. Tapping on the band around her waist, she watched the cross on the wall and her fingers slipped beneath the fabric. Would the bowels of hell open up and swallow her if she went lower. Something was pulling her hand and there was no way to control the fury within.

LOWER!

The crucifix of seemed to guide her. Fingers now parting her swollen lips, she had to cover her mouth to silence the shame. Soft and new flesh, and drenched, a single digit traced up and down the inner lips. Her core clenching the moment the small bundle of nerves touched. Pulsating beneath her fingers, she couldn’t stop. Rubbing in small circles, she used her other hand to pull the blanket back. She would show him how filthy she was. The erotic dance of her finger over her dark flesh left trickles of shame to coat the sheets below. She didn’t care. Not now that she found her own essence.

DO IT. TASTE IT.

Pulling her hand to her mouth, she suckled on the dew for the first time. Her body as sweet as spun sugar, she couldn’t stop the ravenous need to feed. Each delicate finger now clean, she moved back down to collect more for her starving body. Arching her back, the flood of warmth couldn’t be stopped. Her body gave into the pleasure that no man had ever given her. It was the awakening that transformed her into the sexual vixen she is today. As for the Priest. Wait until part 2. Shocking things ahead. 

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Let’s face it an orgasm makes everyone feel better. Even a bad one is a good one. I’ll let you in on a little secret. Every night, even if I have fucked, I masturbate myself to sleep. For me it’s natural melatonin and I can rest all night. Weird, right? Not when you are an over thinker and can’t turn off your brain. A good orgasm shuts that right off.

I often get asked about what I think about when I masturbate. If I told you that, you would be shocked. It’s not what anyone would think about me, but for me, it does the job. What about you? When you set that scene up in your head, what trips the switch? I would love to know what gets people off when they fly solo.

Have you ever thought that maybe masturbation is better than real sex? Think about it. The only person that you need to give an orgasm is yourself. It’s a selfish concept, but one that I often wonder about. I cum hard all by myself. Sometimes better than when I have to worry about pleasing a partner. Not that I can’t, but I’m greedy. I want all the orgasms for myself.

Don’t deny yourself an orgasm.

So, here’s the challenge. I want to know what you think about when you jack off. Send me all the details of your favorite little kink. The writer in me is interested, but the highly sexual Goddess really wants to know. For me it’s about making all the dreams a reality, if only for a short period of time. Maybe I will tell your story in my next book, but don’t worry, all names will be changed to protect the deviant. I believe that we all have a story to tell, so how about yours? I want all the orgasm details.

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