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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You’re not my family, so why do I call you daddy?

Daddy, Papi, Father, why? Why call a man these names if he’s not related to you? For many people, it is a term of endearment when speaking to an older man. For others, though, it rolls off the tongue in a river of taboo secrets.

The daddy kink’s often not understood. When I call a lover “Daddy”, I am not referring to my biological father. For some, me included, the term refers to a dominate older man. I have always considered myself a submissive female, and in many of my relationships, that has worked. For others, they just don’t understand that I am not being incestual when calling them by that name. Sadly, that is why many people today wait until they are behind the security of a closed door to let their inner daddy’s little girl out to play.

On the other end of the spectrum, there is another group of people who indulge in the fetish of dd/dlg. For those that don’t know what that means, Daddy’s daughter/ Daddy’s little girl. That one opens another can of worms by introducing ageplay into the taboo game. There is something so filthy about an adult regressing back into the days of innocent. Promise not to tell? I love this little roleplay game. Giving yourself to a Domme Daddy has always interested me. It might be where my Submissive Kitten fetish started.

We’ve only touched on a few of the reasons the term Daddy’s used. I will go deeper into the fetishes in the coming blogs, but remember one thing, just because you don’t understand, doesn’t mean it’s wrong. It’s just different. Never judge a book by the cover if you’re not allowing anyone to read your own personal chapters.

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