ᐯOIᗪ ᗩᑎᗪ ᖴOᖇᗰ [ᵖᵒⁱˢᵒⁿ & ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ] -ɴꜱꜰᴡ

[Pretty.Poison]

ᐯOIᗪ ᗩᑎᗪ ᖴOᖇᗰ ~There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin.~​

 

[Pretty.Poison]

𝓚𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓐𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓮 “We are made for pleasure. We live for pleasure. The pleasure of licking the last delicious crumbs off your fingers and feeling sunlight on your skin and massaging a loved one's shoulders. We're made to fill our bellies with delicious food, to nap in soft grass, to touch each other in joy and comfort.There is no shame or guilt in our bodies doing what they were made to do. And we are made for pleasure. As women it is our duty and our privilege to serve our men, to give them the pleasure their bodies need in order to fulfill their purposes. And, when we do this willingly, happily, and with joy in our hearts we will find that pleasure given back to us.” This was her first devotional since she had returned home, and her first as an adult. The subject matter had been… she wasn't sure what she had been expecting, it really shouldn't have surprised her, but maybe being out in the world had affected her more than she thought. She had understood from a young age what her role as a woman would be, what would be expected of her within the church that her father led. Her time outside his hallowed walls though, had been confusing… to say the least. The attitude towards sex, the pursuit of pleasure, and the nature of relationships in the outside world had been so foreign to her. For one, people didn't openly discuss sex even though everything in their daily lives seemed to revolve around. The pursuit of pleasure was deemed unhealthy, and rather they seemed to focus on obtaining money to afford things to give them pleasure but then keeping themselves so busy they couldn't actually enjoy them… like some sort of financial self-flagellation. And relationships… they were the most confusing of all… men were with men and women were with women, and sometimes men and women were together but seemed to actively despise one another. The two genders seemingly locked in contest with one another that neither side could ever actually win. She had been thankful to return home, and was ready to begin the process of becoming an initiate… and eventually a priestess, but… She was also nervous. While some girls would indulge during their journey, and lose their virginity… Kaitlyn had not. She had kept her virtue intact so that it wouldn't just be a symbol of her purity that she gave during her ceremony, but her actual purity. She didn't want to fake it in the altar like most did, she wanted it to truly mean something. She felt that was a stronger symbol of her faith, and as the daughter of their church leader… shouldn't her faith be that strong? It didn't hurt that her father's approval was as equally important to her as her faith, the two so deeply woven together that it was hard to decipher between the two. She worshiped her father as if he and their god were one in the same. In her mind they might as well have been. He was a larger than life figure that her world had revolved around for as long as she could remember. Her father eclipsed everyone else in her life, there was only room for him and their lord in her heart. She knelt with the other women, her head hung in prayer, reciting the words she knew by heart. After they were dismissed, each was sent to wait for their private faith counseling with one of the deacons, or if they were one of the lucky few… her father himself. Kaitlyn made her way to one of the pews to wait for her name to be called, hands smoothing over the skirt of the simple white dress she’d chosen to wear for the day. It was flattering for her petite figure, accentuating her small waist while making the most of her slight curves. Her long dark hair was worn in a braid that draped over one shoulder, her blue eyes lowered to read scriptures while she waited. ​

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[Father Figure]

Thomas Armitage Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked or stand in the way that sinners take or sit in the company of mockers, but whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and who meditates on his law day and night. That person is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither—whatever they do prospers. What kind of man was he? What kind of man was Thomas Armitage that he could not just be born into a cult, but rise within its ranks, ascend to become not just the pillar of the community at large, but an integral factor in the lives of all in his congregation. Thomas was simply the kind of man that came once in a generation, lacking for nothing when it came to the virtues that had been bestowed upon him. An innate strength of personality and physique, charismatic, intelligent, and talented. Thomas could have written his own ticket in collegiate sports, found his way into doctoral programs, or been an effective politician. But such things had not been in the cards for Thomas Armitage, not that they could not have been, but that his life took a drastic turn when he had been initiated into the deeper secrets of his family's religious sect. Revelation had fallen upon him. Or as the old faith would have put it, the scales upon his sight had fallen away, his eyes had been opened to the true nature of reality. Modern clinicians would have simply stated that Thomas Armitage was certifiably insane. And now he was the head of something beautiful, something horrific, and there was none in their small little hometown that could gainsay what the Preacher said. Not that he would ever have a need to enforce his will on another, for their obedience was given readily and with great fervor. For theirs was a religion where the gods were real, and theirs was a faith in which their gods answered their call. There was not a man, woman, or child that had not seen miracles on a Sunday morning, nor an adult that had not seen horrors on a Sunday night. And today's sermon had been a moving one for those that attended, a reminder of that deep truth that all had taken into their bosom heart, but effectively a reminder for his daughter. Returned to the fold, recognizing her path was to walk arm and arm with her fellow sisters into the baptismal of madness which was their calling. It gladdened him to see her, though from the very moment she had arrived he could tell that there was a measured doubt within her spirit. It was an unacceptable flaw, and one that he would repair. Now their devotional had been completed, guided by the matrons of the order, and each of the young women were dismissed to attend their private counseling. It was a customary practice, where the women folk mentored the group of initiates, before the initiates were mentored in one-on-one sessions with a male elder. Typically, a familial relation. And thus it came to pass that Kaitlyn was eventually called to a small study, one of numerous cells in which private worship was conducted, and soon enough she heard the footsteps of her father approaching, the steady gait as each one was planted with purpose, stepping into the room in his simple dignified dark trousers and white shirt, a complimentary aesthetic to her own. His voice was quiet, thoughtful, as he spoke with that confident air, addressing her first as one of his flock before ever speaking to her as his child. "Pray with me, beloved. Pray and confess your heart this day. For it is time." Time for what exactly? But they both know intuitively what he meant. Time for a reckoning. A reckoning with her future.​

 

[Pretty.Poison]

𝓚𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓐𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓮 And their daughters they took to themselves for wives… How many times had she heard those steps? Enough to memorize the rhythm and timing of his gait. Down the aisle at church, up the front steps at home, outside her bedroom door at night… She knew he could sense the change in her from her time spent out from under his watchful gaze. He could sense that confusion and hesitation that lingered despite her decision to return to the fold. As firmly as she held to her faith, to her father, to her belief in the word he preached… she couldn't help but wonder if it was real. Nothing in the outside world spoke of their religion, their beliefs, their gods.. it was as if they didn't exist… had never existed. The closest she’d come were works of fantasy where the believers were painted as crazed fanatics, and she experienced doubt for the first time in her small, boring life. The sound of her father's voice sent a shiver running through her and made her pulse race… and thighs clench. She lowered herself onto her knees before him, her head lowered in deference, and hands folded in front of her. "Bless me Father, for I have sinned against thee and our Lords. I have let my time outside these holy lands taint my mind and sow doubt in my heart.” Tears stung the corners of her eyes as she made her confession at his feet, embarrassed and fearful that he would turn from her in disappointment. "I recognize this sin as being bred by falsehoods plied upon me by ignorant wretches. I would cast them aside and atone for my sin in whatever way is deemed fit so as I may rejoin the flock of believers and once more worship at the altar of our Lords.” Kaitlyn doubled over, laying her forehead on the backs of her hands between her father's feet as she had seen accused heretics do when they begged for salvation. Her sin was not so great as that, she would never dare to blaspheme her father or the church, but she wanted to prove that she was truly repenting, and that she was sincere in her wish to return to the fold… his fold. Kaitlyn had always been her father's daughter… a daddy's girl, one might say. Even if he had always placed obligation and duty to the congregation before his role as her father. She understood the need for this, that as the leader of their church he was, in essence, a father to them all. There were times when she did experience jealousy, resentment at having to share him with so many, but she had done her best not to show it. Now, as an adult and returned from the outside world, she could devote herself to the church just as fervently… even if the thought scared her a bit. ​

 

[Father Figure]

Thomas Armitage He gazed at her with speculative eyes. Most men would have already been deep into the lewd thoughts that addled the mind of those that were power mad. But not him. Perversion was not the act of a man of fervor and true devotion, even though at times the behaviors might be similar in nature. No, what he had done with those women who worshipped in the name of their ancient deities was simply the purest form of devotion he could give, an act of service in the great cause. And so, while others would have looked upon the supplication of his young daughter with the debauchery of a spirit long given over to the hungers of flesh, her father gazed upon her as a guide that would provide mentoring and relief to the tortured spirit of one who had come before him. If that mentoring should require pleasure, or pain, from her mortal form then so much the better. Her cries would be heard and welcomed by void beyond. His next words were a rebuke, but was it a rebuke of her and her actions or of the world itself? “Do not love the world nor the things in the world, child. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in them. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the boastful pride of life, is not from the Father, but is from the world. The world is passing away, and also its lusts; but the one who does the will of God lives forever.” Such words are straightforward in their implications, but not so for Kaitlyn and the life that her family had led. There were deeper meanings to be found in the scripture of the Lord, hidden definitions that held a doubling of interpretation. In this moment, the implication could simply be that he was guiding her away from the path she had fallen prey to, a life that was meaningless. But there was a corollary that was insinuated, and it was that of the Father. Her Father. Every time he said the word, every invoking of his name was a reminder that her path had not just strayed from their cult, strayed from its teaching, but that she had strayed from him. And in doing so she had strayed from the sight of God. Yet he could not ignore the repentance in her voice, the humility in her tone, and as such there was a measure of forgiveness towards the end. Of acceptance that she heard within his smooth voice as he spoke once more. “Vestrae puritatis.” And scripture was not the only thing in her life that had a mysterious truth that others were not privy to understanding. The words he said in Latin were simply translated. Show Your Purity. But the very act of speaking them was like a clarion call, tugging at the very mind of the young woman, an embedded phrase from years of mental domination and hypnotic suggestions. She would understand what to do.​

 

[Pretty.Poison]

𝓚𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓐𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓮 There was no need to look up at him to know his eyes were on her. They had always been able to see through her to the very depths of her being, to know the truth of her soul. She could feel them now, boring into her, to test the conviction of her words. She continued to kneel at his feet, her face to the floor as he rebuked the world at large, and her for the doubt she let into her heart and mind. His words twisted in her mind, taking on dual meanings, much like most of the scriptures she’d grown up hearing had. Not that she understood that was the case. She truly believed that the interpretations drilled into her were the one and true understanding of the word of their Lords. Just like how her perception of her father was that of a living vessel for their Gods. “You are my Father; I am the clay, and you are my potter; I am the work of your hand.” The words came out as a soft murmur, nearly a whisper, as she placed herself in his hands to be molded into a worthy servant of the Lords. Vestrae puritatis... The time spent away only slowed her reaction to the phrase by mere seconds, her brain needing only a little longer to process the latin. Still she could feel the words echoing through her mind urging her body to react as it had been trained to do. She pushed herself up onto all fours and turned in a circle before once more lowering her head. She grabbed the hem of her dress, gathering up the skirt, and pulled it up around her waist as she pushed her pert little bottom into the air. As was the custom of the women in their church, she wore no undergarments beneath her modest attire. With her back arched she reached her hands back, placing them on her rounded cheeks, spreading herself open in a way that not only showed the tightly puckered pink rosebud, but also spread the plump, silken folds to reveal the unused entrance of her virgin cunt. ​

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[Father Figure]

Thomas Armitage Such acts were as commonplace as a stern word among the flock, and yet even the commonplace could be beautiful. As his lovely daughter bent to offer herself upwards in supplication, searching for his benediction and forgiveness, he was reminded that Kaitlyn had often always been the most attractive of young women in the community. This had not come with a sense of pride for her father, no, in fact it had led to him contemplating repeatedly the draw of sin and the implication of dark forces that might work their temptation upon his daughter and draw her further from the truth of her life. Such uncertainty in her future had led him to be quite charitable with a reprimanding hand, an unforgiving demand upon her that others did not often endure. Where another might receive recognition, he gave none to Kaitlyn. Where another might be given grace, punishment fell upon her. Yet, here with her having returned there was a realization that she was meant for something greater, a humbling feeling washing over the older man, and he knew beyond any doubt that Kaitlyn would not just join the sisterhood and be initiated into their secrets. But that one day she might assume a role in their community just as great as his own and guide their congregation into the embrace of shimmering darkness. And thusly he knelt to pray, knowing his daughter would understand to follow along in the simple and pleasing echo of his words, his voice a foundation for the following of her own, the lovely sound an accent to his deep resonance. "Lord, thank you for the desire you've put in our hearts to impact the lives of those we touch. You have planted me in family, community, and place in this world as an ambassador of your good works. May I accept both my location and circumstances as part of your perfect plan to use me your way." The hands that he had clasped before him came out to touch her perfect bottom, gripping the flesh of her young ass, and in the doing covering her own hands as well. The familiar touch of a loved one. His head lowered, eyes closing, but even with his eyes closed he could still see the shimmering sight of her untouched holes. "God, I long to give those around me – in my family and beyond – your hope and the promises found in your Word. I want them to learn how to live as you would wish, but God, I know, however that it starts with me." His hands squeezed her rear hard, painfully so at the end, a murmured Amen following, and his voice grew just as hard as his grip upon her. "And you do know it starts with you, don't you, Kaitlyn? Do you remember how many times you have offered yourself in this way? How many times you have flexed and opened your holes for my inspection? And how I have never partaken. But you know one day I shall, do you not? Do you want it to be this day?"​

 

[Pretty.Poison]

𝓚𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓐𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓮 Kaitlyn would maintain the position for as long as her father deemed necessary. She had done this so many times over the years, and he had never touched her. He would conduct his inspection from where he stood, recite the prayer, and then it would be over. Something about today felt different… maybe it was that she had returned or because she was finally of age… becoming an initiate… but it meant that she wasn't entirely surprised when she heard her father lower himself to his knees behind her. She couldn't help the way her body reacted to how close he was, she could feel her vaginal walls twitching, and warmth spread through her body as her skin flushed, her fair complexion turning a pleasant pink tone. She knew the words by heart, her soft and airy tone echoing his own deeper voice. "Lord, thank you for the desire you've put in our hearts to impact the lives of those we touch. You have planted me in family, community, and place in this world as an ambassador of your good works. May I accept both my location and circumstances as part of your perfect plan to use me your way." His hands on her body, however, were a surprise though they didn't drift from where they landed, covering her own. For a moment she thought he might be doing a more thorough inspection since she had just returned though, even if he had he would find her fully intact… strange as might be for a young woman her age, even her hymen remained unbroken. She continued to pray with him, his grip turning painful and the tears returning to her eyes. "God, I long to give those around me – in my family and beyond – your hope and the promises found in your Word. I want them to learn how to live as you would wish, but God, I know, however, that it starts with me." His hands squeezed even harder, the last few words spoken through clenched teeth as she tried desperately to keep from crying out. “Amen…” It left her lips as a soft whine, but she didn't dare to move or even chance a glance back at him. “Yes, Father… many times…” she answered in her meek, almost timid voice. She had no idea exactly how many times she had taken up this position, but she had obediently done so each and every time the command was given. “I do know, Father, as is your duty and your right,” she replied her knees hurt and her muscles were starting to ache from maintaining the pose, and she most assuredly would have bruises from how hard he gripped her. Still, there was not a moment of hesitation in her answer, “If it is the will of our Lord, and the will of my Father, then yes… for it is my privilege to serve, and to do so in pleasure is the purest form of devotion.” ​

 

[Father Figure]

Thomas Armitage The offering was given, but would it be taken? Her very own father held her open as she bent over before him, offering her holes as if they were the holy sacrament, but that was the nature of their lives. While another might have recognized the horrific truth of degradation involved in the relationship, he was more than just her father in this act. He was her spiritual guide, her designated intercessor between the world of flesh and the world of the soul. This was not some sickness that pervaded them, but a holy communion that would allow her to rise to greater heights, not fall. Yet there was still the preparation of her mind, the readiness that would come with time, and that was the reason her father was truly there. His entire life had been spent providing her with the tools necessary to grow, all that remained now was to take those tools and show her how to use them. The hands upon her rear gentled, easing in their cruelty, as if the words that she had spoken had been a balm to the man and he now turned this deed from a test into a testament of their faith. “This is My body, given for you; do this in remembrance of Me.” Spittle dribbled down from his lips. It fell to spatter across the rosebud of her anus, pooling and then dribbling down the crack and along the smooth folds of her labia. Again, he let spit fall, watching as the holy oil of his saliva coated her skin and he smiled with dark delight. Never had he tasted his young daughter’s flesh, never had he ever pushed her so far, and he lowered his head. He knew Kaitlynn kept herself meticulously clean, as did all who served in the church and sought to pursue cleaning of the flesh in service of their gods. And cleanse was what he would now provide, his tongue coming to rest against her anus as his eyes closed and he pressed in close to her perfect derriere. There was no need for her to hold herself open any longer, her father was more than willing to do so as he began to rim her, dipping his tongue in and out of her young hole. Probing every so often to see how far he could get his tongue inside of her before leaning back to speak words designed to consecrate her beautiful body, while desecrating her mind. “Eternal ones, we ask you, to bless and sanctify this supplicant. That she may be feasted upon in remembrance of the body, and witness to you, O Gods. That she is willing to take upon herself the name of the Ancients, and always remember Them, and keep the commandments which They have given her. That she may have their spirits be within her. Amen.” “Devote thyself,” he said. Once more the tone frightening with power, resonating in her thoughts, another hidden command as his tongue rammed back inside of her waiting ass. ​