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. ​

​

 

[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. ​

 

[Pretty.Poison]

𝓚𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓐𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓮 A soft sigh floated up from her slightly parted lips as the grip of her father's hands gentled. Kaitlyn’s time outside the safety and warmth of the community she had been raised in was the first and only time she’d been faced with the possibility that there may have been something perverse about the practices of their religion. That notion had been tossed aside before she returned back to her place within the fold, back under the watchful eye and sheltering arm of her father. Even now, as she knelt on the floor, doubled over with her rear in the air, her father and her together holding her open as she offered herself up to him as was her duty… there was nothing vulgar about it in her mind. It wasn't sick or twisted… it certainly wasn't wrong… it was a show of faith, devotion, and pure love not for the man she was offering herself to, but to the ancient deities they both served. Her father didn't do this for the sake of sating his own lust, but because he was her spiritual guide, and a living vessel for those they worshiped. That first wet splash of his spit hitting her perfect pink rosebud made her twitch in response, it wasn't unpleasant, just surprising. The second was answered with a soft hitch of her breath, her tightly puckered hole pulsing, winking open and then quickly contracting. His saliva dribbled down the valley to her soft, puffy folds running down her slit and mixing with the first signs of her own wetness. Her body was gently trembling with anticipation, her hands slowly slipping away leaving her spread cheeks to her father to hold open so she could better support her weight. She knew what came next, but nothing could have prepared her for how it would actually feel. The first touch of his tongue had her tight little hole quivering, and a whimpery sigh escaped from her lips. Another little breathy mewling sound as he began probing the little bud, coaxing it to bloom open for him. And bloom it did, opening up a little more after every verse or prayer, allowing his tongue to delve deeper inside her. The words he spoke were a reminder that this was what she had been made for, this was how she served, but she hadn't needed his words… Her body knew, reacting on instinct, accepting the pleasure without needing to be reminded that it was pleasure. The part of her brain that hadn't been lost to worship couldn't fathom why others would need reminding to find pleasure in being cleansed. Devote thyself… This time there was no hesitation between the command ringing in her ears and her response. It was as if a switch had been flipped inside her. The timid uncertain virgin, with her soft meek whimpers seemed to disappear as she pushed her ass back, wiggling and grinding against her father's tongue. Her mild mewling cries became shamelessly wanton moans, “I pledge my body unto thee, Oh Father, for you to fill me with the spirit of our Lords. For you to grant me the gift of the Ancients to carry within me for all the days of my life as a faithful servant to our Gods, and to you Father who art their Earthly presence.” The words were cried out in utter ecstasy that only a true believer would be capable of achieving without her small frame ever missing a beat in the rhythm of her rocking as sweet, creamy nectar all but gushed from her virgin cunt. ​

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[Father Figure]

Thomas Armitage There was an unholy sanctity in the action of rimming a woman, a defilement of the spirit which came from committing such a deed and twisting it into a pleasurable one for both to indulge in. Such things were pleasing to the Lords that he served, ancient beings that found life in the crevices of mortal souls. His tongue swirled inside of her as she prayed, offering up her devotion, and even more beautifully she responded to his actions with a lust of her own. Wriggling, writhing, a beautiful whimpering mass of shameless cries of adulation. It encouraged him, his hands digging into the flesh of her backside harder as he smelled the sweet nectar of her arousal, and a low hungry sound of need tore its way from deep within his chest. When he rose from his feast her Father was no longer man, not that she could recognize that fact in, though there was a palpable change in the air. A coldness that seemed to seep in through the floors of the church proper, rising until she swore, she could see tendrils of water freezing and then snapping before falling once more to the floor as moisture coalesced on the surfaces of the room. What came next would drive her mad. His voice began to intone words into the chilly air, clouds of vapor puffing from his lips as he did so, though he did not seem bothered by such factors. The words though no longer were hidden prophecy, no longer were cryptic heresy, and no longer were under the guise of the religious practices that Kaitlyn had been raised in. No, these were far different from the ones that she had ever heard before, and each one seemed to claw deep and wrap round her heart. “Oh, ancient ones, whose whispers carve through the marrow of existence, I call upon thee. Hear me whose eyes see beyond the veil of mortal comprehension, whose breath stirs the ether of dreams and nightmares alike. Grant me passage through the labyrinth.” She heard him unzipping, one hand though took hold of her hair to keep her face pressed downwards, refusing to let her rise from the position he had placed her in, as his other hand freed his massive cock, the heavy weight swinging to slap at the taut backside of the young woman. Surely her Father was not so impressive in size! Surely, he was not that girthy, there was no possibility that the shaft she felt resting against her was human. “In the silence of this forsaken temple, I beseech your mercy Shub-Niggurath, Mother of a Thousand Young, entwine us in your roots of creation and decay. Nyarlathotep, harbinger of chaos, guide us through the realms of madness and clarity, where sanity is but a fleeting whisper. Azathoth, let your mindless song envelop us! Cthulhu, dreamer beneath the waves, grant us visions of the cosmos, where time and space fold into one!” And that was when her Father mounted her. “I offer this soul to you, fragile as it is, to your insatiable hunger. Let your darkness consume the frailties of her flesh. Imbue her with your eternal essence, so she may transcend!” Suddenly he was within her, that gargantuan head pushing against her anus, uncaring of resistance, the only lubrication the spit that he had charitably given her beforehand. It stretched her, opened her, and broke her physically just as the coming eldritch power broke her mind. ​

 

[Pretty.Poison]

𝓚𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓐𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓮 Perhaps a part of her knew, had always known, that the lords they worshiped were not the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, but something older. Did that make her any less faithful? Any less devoted? Did she believe any less in her father and the messages he delivered from the pulpit? No, if anything she believed even more fervently. It would be impossible not to under the circumstances, unless her mind was truly broken and everything she was feeling, hearing, seeing were all delusions stemming from some pervading madness… Which, was also quite possible, that was what had happened to her mother, was it not? Maybe the same illness that had inflicted her mother was now manifesting in her. That was more terrifying than this all being real. Kaitlyn did not look back at her father, she was terrified that the face staring back at her would just be that of an ordinary man. Was it wrong to want to believe that some ancient deity had taken his body as its own vessel? That it was not just a sick man sating his personal lust with his daughter’s flesh, but old gods working through her father to fully initiate her into their service. Her mother had fought against these types of visions, refused to believe they were real, and it had destroyed her… Kaitlyn would believe, and hold firmly to it, letting them have their way with her mind and her body. The heavy slab of meat that smacked against her bared and spread open rear seemed inhumanly large. Curiosity was eating away at her, but about the time she had gathered the courage to turn and look, her father's hand was twisting into her hair, and holding her face firmly to the floor. Never before had she heard her father invoke the names of the ancient ones they prayed to. There had always been easily accepted generic replacements that no one had dared to question. Now, she heard him call their names, and as he did she could feel…something… almost akin to electricity, but not, working its way like tendrils, tingling, as they vined their way through her. There was such warmth despite the cold seeping through the floor she knelt on, all discomfort and pain seemed to disappear. Pleasure… bliss.. euphoria… ecstasy… that was what she felt as her father nearly split in her half, stretching her open beyond what should have been possible for her small body to take. She screamed in adulation as he drove into her, tears spilling from her eyes to roll down her cheeks. This was her purpose, her meaning, and the fulfillment of it was a joy unto itself, but then there was the pleasure… the all consuming pleasure that she was utterly lost in. ​

 

[Father Figure]

Thomas Armitage "May the Master pour on the love so it fills your life and splashes over on everyone around you." ​ (1 Thessalonians 3:12, The Message) ​ Would he bless her this day? Such an act of holy communion could only best be consummated with the spilling of his seed deep within the confines of her perfect body, but had she earned such a divine sensation with her devotion? The man behind her, if he could rightly be called a man, was quite aware of the sensation of fear that permeated the young devotee's very essence, the questioning and searching within herself even as he impaled deeply within the confines of her bowels, and in this case the word impalement was an understatement as the gargantuan slab of cock that her father wielded stretched her in ways that seemed unfathomable to the human mind. In any other reality help would have arrived to save her from the depredations being inflicted upon her, but this was their church and he, their leader. None of the congregation would come to save poor Kaitlyn. Perhaps what she imagined regarding her mother was correct, perhaps the madness that had afflicted the older woman was now found within her daughter. More likely though the only similarity between the two were echoes of her mother's unanswered cries. His words had dark intonations of nightmarish truth, yet within them she found the sound of satisfaction. Within the words were a chorus of approval signifying that her father was proud of her. No, not just her father, but her Father. The man at the pulpit, the preacher, the bringer of the Word. "I hear your cries, my child, and I welcome them. In the depths of torment, you lay your soul bare, and in your agony, you have found your purpose, you have discovered your devotion, and you are loved for it." Such a powerful word, love, to be used in a manner as treacherously horrifying as this. No love should be this way, beautiful and monstrous, but it was a seed to plain in the soil of his daughter's fertile soul. The language that he spoke now was the language of agony, and the hand in her hair jerked her back so that she was arched in a bow, taut and unrelenting as the strange cock within her pulsed with the promise of horrors yet to come. It was the tears that paused the man behind her, a pause that was exquisitely painful considering the placement of that erect prick deep within her. His hand came out to rest beneath her chin as it flowed down her face, pouring with pristine precision into his cupped palm. Eyes narrowed as he scowled at the slow accumulation and he pushed harder, finding a bit more depth to his penetration of Kaitlyn's writhing body. And only when he was satisfied with the resulting pool of tears in his hand did he stop, letting go of her hair, his free hand pressing between her shoulders to push her away so that they were no longer coupling. He brought the tears to his lips, closing his eyes, as he lovingly ingested the anguish of his own daughter. It was an offering unlike any other. And as his eyes opened to gaze down at the trembling doe still laying on the ground there was nothing but promise within them. This was not over for her. This was only the beginning. ​

 

[Pretty.Poison]

𝓚𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓐𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓮 Conversations regarding her mother had always been rather blunt, yet also vague… She had gone mad, yet no further explanation as to how or why, or what the cause was. Overall, Kaitlyn remembered very little about the woman who bore her, and knew even less. Of course at the moment there was little thought given to any of that as her father was currently rearranging her insides with the monstrous cock he’d buried deep within her petite body. There wasn't really much thought being given to much of anything, really, her mind was too overwhelmed by the sensations of it all. There wasn't even any mindfulness given to the other congregants that might be able to hear her, or what they may have thought… Kaitlyn wasn't begging and crying for their help, she didn't wish to be saved. Visions of these old gods came and went from her mind. Their nightmarishly inhuman forms watched in approval as her father took her in their name. The love her father spoke of, the pride she could hear in his words, the warmth flowing over and within her… not just that of the man that was stretching and filling her… but theirs… And her soul was just that, a fertile field waiting desperately for seed. “Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon me, that I should be called his child,” she murmured, the words nearly incoherent in her current state. Her back arched to a near impossible angle as he yanked on her hair causing her body to contort. Rather from agony or adulation… a mingling of both, her tears fell. This seemed to bring her father's movements to a stop, and then his hand was cupped beneath her chin before finding a new depth within her. The tears came with greater abundance and speed, filling his waiting palm. Freed, and disengaged from her father's body, she crumpled to the hard, wooden floor. A small puddle of her own nectar remained as she lay trembling, tears still rolling down her cheeks. She dared not move too much, the skirts of her dress still hiked up around her waist exposing her gaped hole and her quivering, drooling cunny just beneath it. "I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you." She fought to gain some sense of composure as she dared a glance up at her father.​

 

[Father Figure]

Thomas Armitage He stood like a god before her. Never had she seen him in such a light, as if the world itself had dimmed, and yet he remained the only thing not obscured by the veil of darkness that cloaked reality. Tall and austere, he was crystal clear, the clarity of personage only matched by high-definition televisions. He was her father, he was her preacher, and he was an abomination that supped upon her tears. The salty liquid touched his tongue as he swiped her sorrow from his palm, a libation that could not be matched by any other liquid this world had to offer. Sorrowful ambrosia. The words she intoned were powerful ones, ones of supplication and love, and they were not lost upon him. The kind of woman who could utter such profanity in holy benediction was the kind of woman who might lead their church to triumph over this forsaken world. Her father's eyes fluttered closed as he lapped at the last vestige of her offering, and then they opened to lock upon her, seeing her so perfectly poised upon the floor in a splay of broken and used flesh. She reeked with arousal, it oozed from her to drip along her thighs and to the floor, and there was approval in the features of the man she had always sought to implore for such an emotion. He had always refrained from granting it to her, always kept himself from providing the tiniest morsel of adoration, but now she had earned it. And she had earned something more. The room itself had grown grey with her father standing as a shining beacon in the midst of it, but she was capable of making it details that seemed to border on the periphery of her vision. The small room had become a sanctum of shadows, where the light of day dared not penetrate, and the congregation gathered in reverent silence. The air was thick with the scent of age and decay, tangible reminders of the ancients that lingered within the void. Behind her father stood the altar, draped in obsidian cloth and adorned with relics of forgotten aeons. And up and behinds him, the savior's cross in denial, upside down and shattered. Most of all in horrifying fashion was the sight of her Father's massive cock, thick and pulsing with his desire to finish, held in abeyance by sheer willpower though a strange iridescent liquid spattered from the tip to the floor. The hand he had just supped with was brought down in front of him, holding it like a chalice before his shaft, as his other hand took hold, and he began to stroke with furious intensity. "Behold, beloved. Partake in the sacrament that binds us, take of me my essence, and let it fill you." What exactly would it fill her with, this unholy rite in which she had participated? The answer would come in due time, in the stillness of the night when the stars shone their horrific melody, but for now all that mattered was the this, the offering, and the gods which defiled her through her Father's flesh. A profound quiet filled Kaitlyn's ears, like the rushing roar of an ocean, and all that could be ascertained was the deep breathing of the man before her and the sound of his hand sliding with vigorous focus on his cream covered shaft. And then, then he came. It rose from deep within, a tide of semen that splashed out and across his palm, quickly filling his palm before overflowing to splatter in a puddle near his feet. Copious amounts of luminescent cum. There was no need to tell her what she should do, his daughter would know, as did all congregants that lay before him. ​

 

[Pretty.Poison]

𝓚𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓐𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓮 Turning to look at her father she had to squint her eyes against the brightness that shone around him… from him. It was almost blinding, the stark contrast between him and the darkness that surrounded them. She watched, intently, as his tongue lapped her tears from his palm, the act itself erotic in a sense she couldn't quite express. It did make her want to cry more, if that is what he wanted from her, she would gladly give more… whatever he required of her to prove her devotion l, she would happily give and be grateful for the privilege to do so. It may have been sick, twisted, perverse, but she would never be convinced of such, her faith ran far too deep. She slowly turned to face him as he continued to lick the last vestiges of her offering from his palm. Sitting up on her knees she would slowly begin working at the buttons that ran down the front of her dress. The chill air of the room kissed porcelain skin as it was bared, not just for her father but the congregants of the room. While it was very dark, her eyes could make out small details, and the scent that permeated the atmosphere was a constant reminder of their presence. There was a hitch in her breathing as her eyes found their way back to her father, trailing down to drink in the sight of the beastly cock that had been buried inside her. It made her thighs clench, and her clit throb… she knew enough to know the signs of arousal, of desire… and she knew that was what she was feeling now…. For her father. To someone else that would have been disturbing, this entire situation would have been horrifying, but that was not at all what Kaitlyn was feeling. What did that say about her? Her eyes lingered on the monstrous cock, angry and pulsing, and the strange, lustrous fluid that dripped from its tip. Her eyes fell to rest on the spot where it was dripping to the floor before drifting back up to watch him take his cock in hand, the other cupped beneath his leaking tip. She shrugged out of her dress, letting the garment fall away to the floor, leaving her naked. Then she was back on all fours, crawling towards him while he stroked himself, stopping just before him. Once more lowered her to the floor in supplication, her rear pushed high in the air, her tongue darting out to lap out the small puddle on the floor. Her head tilted so she could look up at her father, watching as he brought himself to completion. As he came he quickly overflowed his hand, more of the precious fluid spilled over, while some hit the floor most splattered onto her face. She rushed to lick up what she could from the floor, and from her face, before using her fingers to try and scoop it up, sucking it from her digits. Only then did she push back up to sit on her knees, leaning in closer to reach the chalice of his palm. There were the softest little whimpery moans as she began flicking her little pink tongue through the viscous liquid filling her father's hand. She had been trained her whole life to be demure, to be a lady, but the hunger inside was growing, and before long she was slurping and sucking the cum he held out for her, all but guzzling it down her throat as she lapped hungrily at his palm to get every last drop. ​

​

 

[Father Figure]

Thomas Armitage "There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and to die, to plant and to uproot, to kill and to heal, to tear down and to build, to weep and to laugh, to mourn and to dance, to scatter stones and to gather them, to embrace and to refrain from embracing, to search and to give up, to keep and to throw away, to tear and to mend, to be silent and to speak, to love and to hate, and a time for war and for peace."​ Ecclesiastes 3:1-8​ And the time of Kaitlyn's training had begun. And thus, she was sent into the wilderness with nothing but a belly full of her Father's delicious, and strangely addictive, seed. It had happened so suddenly as she supped, one minute her tongue lapping away the last vestiges of climax and then the next hands roughly grabbed her arms and dragged her from the temple proper to be pulled into the woods. It was not surprising though, Kaitlyn had been raised in this world, and she knew what it meant. Being sent into the wild was often a requirement of all holy men by the ancient gods of old, for only through such desolation could the former self be stripped away, and they were ready to receive the visions to come. She knew at the appointed time she would find the next path in her teachings. For days she wandered, consuming nothing but water infused with a bitter root provided by her father. Hunger gnawed at her insides, and the relentless sun scorched her skin, but she pressed onwards, driven by the dark purpose that now guided her every step. On the seventh day, weakened and delirious, she stumbled upon a cave mouth hidden behind a tangle of dead trees. The air within was cool and thick with the scent of earth and decay, and Kaitlyn entered, her steps echoing in the oppressive silence. The cave walls were covered in glowing glyphs, painted in phosphorescent ink that pulsed with a life of its own. She touched one, and her mind was flooded with whispers in a language she could not understand but felt deep within her bones. In the dark stillness, her body weakened, she heard the drip of water further ahead. An echo of a larger space, and her hand reached to steady herself along the wall as she walked deeper, her willpower the only thing holding her together. Each glyph she passed seemed to whisper secrets, hinting at forbidden knowledge that her mortal mind strained to comprehend. And then she stepped into the forgotten temple. The obsidian altar, an altar she had seen before in the church, gleamed malevolently, its surface etched with writhing hieroglyphs. A dark, viscous liquid filled the stone basin at the altar's center, its surface glimmering with an eerie, bioluminescent glow. The priest, a tall figure draped in tattered robes, approached her. Her father, his eyes dark and bottomless, bore into hers with a gaze that seemed to strip away the layers of her soul. With a voice like rustling ancient leaves, he intoned. "Beloved Kaitlyn, you stand at the threshold of rebirth. In this sacred liquid you shall be baptized, in both pleasure and pain until they are indistinguishable. Are you prepared to embrace the darkness and let it consume you?" Was he proud of her, her Father? Was he pleased with the woman that stood before him, bedraggled and mind numbed. It was impossible to know, those stern features revealed nothing, nothing at all but the eons stretching away and into oblivion. ​

 

[Pretty.Poison]

𝓚𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓐𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓮 There was little concept of time passed, she knew it had been days, but as to how many… she couldn't say. Between the hunger and delirium she wasn't even sure the cave was real when she came upon it. The glowing glyphs and whispers didn't help her to reassure her, for all she knew this was all part of some grand hallucination. Still, if that were the case, this was likely better than whatever reality she was facing. She pushed herself forward, using the cave walls to support her weakened body, her steps slow and uneven. The voices whispering to her urged her forward as did the sound of dripping water deeper within the thick stone walls. She couldn't understand the words they spoke, but she could feel the meaning… the intent… behind them, the will for her to reach the inner sanctum, to succeed in her ascent. She reached a larger open area, a temple long forgotten by time, and instantly she knew there was where she was meant to be. She was vaguely aware of the altar and the vessel that sat atop it, but it was the lone figure that she focused on. Even robed in strange garb she could easily recognize the priest as her father. Kaitlyn fell to her knees, so overcome with emotions that the pain didn't even register. She crawled towards him, stopping at his feet where she sat up so she could press her face into his tattered robes. He was as cold and distant as he had ever been, but that was strangely comforting… providing a sense of normalcy in a situation that was anything but. Kaitlyn's head tipped back, her unfocused gaze finding the dark pools of her father's eyes as they burned into her. The sound of his voice sent a shiver through her, the tone of his voice unnaturally resonating with power as he spoke of what was coming next… should she accept. There was not a single moment of hesitation, “I offer myself up to the subjugation of your will, Father, as I am here in the world to serve the Gods of old through serving you,” she replied as she pressed her cheek against his thigh. “I am ready.”​

​

 

[Father Figure]

Thomas Armitage "The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me."​ Psalm 23:1-4​ Other men would have taken the moment as evocative, as a prelude to affection and indulgence. Kaitlyn was quite literally kneeling before her Father, grasping onto his robes in an attempt to placate and offer herself in service of their ancient gods, and any normal man might have felt themselves stirring towards arousal regardless of her disheveled state and maddened appearance. What's more, that crazy look that walked the line somewhere near insanity that had crept its way into his lovely daughter's visage only made her moreso, not less. A hand came down in benediction to rest upon the top of her head, listening as she pressed close as if he were a lifeline in the middle of the raging ocean, the torrent nearly drowning the poor girl, and that hand provided succor. It gave her an anchor to pull her back from the storm that had settled not her mind. Fingers caressed through the strands, petting her like she was a wayward child in need of consolation, and in a manner of speaking that was the simple truth. Out there in the wilderness she had been left to survive, been left to simply exist, and the emptiness had clawed its way into her soul. Here, in this inner sanctum to ancient and forgotten gods, his Kaitlyn was as welcome as the sheep returning to the flock. And comfort did come as his hands continued down and took hold of her shoulders, gripping her and easing her to stand on unsteady feet, and then he leaned down to bring his arm underneath her legs. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing, the strength in his form seeming unearthly in some strange manner, though there was nothing to hint as to its nature. Her Father had always been a strong man, but the way he picked her up and carried her was as if she were a mere feather in his arms. With but a few steps he moved towards the edge of the altar, leaning over the obsidian stone to lower her nude form into the strange liquid. The fluid was shocking cold, far colder than it had any right to be. It was not just a physical cold, it was a cold that seeped into her very bones, a cold that seemed to belong to a different realm entirely. It sloshed as her Father lowered her deeper, seeming unconcerned as to the sensation of the water. It pressed against her with an almost malevolent intent. It vibrated as it climbed higher until only her face remained free, and her father whispered soft words that seemed almost gentle in this moment of unease. "My daughter, my little angel," he said, his eyes showing a small measure of the pride he would allow himself. "Here in these sacred waters, we welcome you with open arms into a new life, a family bound by purposes and devotion. May this moment cleanse you of past burdens and fill your heart with joy. You are no longer alone; you are one with us, guided by the wisdom that unites us all. Embrace this new beginning, my child, for you are cherished, and your journey has only just begun." And with those words he leaned down to kiss her forehead, his lips brushing softly. And then each of her cheeks, and finally her mouth. And there he stayed, there her father kept his lips, opening her to a deep kiss. His tongue entwined with hers as he leaned over the altar proper, his arms holding her still beneath the water's surface, and then darkness as both their faces disappeared beneath the surface.​

 

[Pretty.Poison]

𝓚𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓐𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓮 “You shall have no other gods before me.” “You shall not bow down to them or serve them, for I the Lord your God am a jealous God…” Exodus 20:3 & Exodus 20:5​ Somewhere in the back of her mind, grasping at the last threads of her sanity, it occurred to Kaitlyn that even when she'd thought her father served the Christian god… Her faith had not been in Jesus, but in her father. It was the man she now clung to that she had worshiped, that she prayed to, that she so readily devoted herself to. Perhaps it was because the Christian beliefs and moral codes had never really felt right to her. It had been like wearing a garment that was just a bit too tight, made of itchy fabric, that she just couldn't wait to peel off. If not, she doubted it would have been so easy to accept the truth of the Ancient Gods her father truly served… But she had. She'd accepted these old ones and the truth of her father into her heart easily and without question because of her total devotion and love for him… not just as her father or her spiritual leader, but as the man she loved above all others. Even now, with hunger clawing at her insides, lips chapped and mouth dry from dehydration, and on the brink of madness… all at his hands… she clung to him knowing the only reason she'd made it these past days was this. This moment. Kaitlyn’s need for her father's approval, affection, and love had driven her for her entire life. These past several days, as she roamed the wilderness with nothing… not even clothes, there was more than that pushing her along. Those same needs were still very present, especially after getting a glimpse of what it was like to bask in his light. Still, she’d gotten a taste of more than just his affection… she’d tasted him… felt him inside her… and the need to have him again only fueled the fire that had always existed within her. She leaned into his hand as he petted her, it was such a simple little thing, but it meant everything to her. Her legs were weak, her feet unsteady as he gently pulled her up. If made to, she likely could have stood on her own… could have made her way to the altar… she would have forced herself to do so, had it been required of her. Thankfully, it hadn't. Instinctively, her arms curled loosely around her father's shoulders as he lifted her into his arms. She didn't weigh much, but the way he did it, so effortlessly, seemed superhuman. She didn't question it, not after everything else she'd experienced. It was too short a time, in her opinion, before he was lowering her into the strange, dark liquid filling the baptismal font. She didn't resist, though, even as the unnatural chill of it reached all the way to her core. It was more than just cold, there was something about the viscous fluid surrounding her, as the substance itself wanted to swallow her whole. Her father seemed unbothered, which helped keep Kaitlyn calm even as the liquid rose around her until all but her was submerged. "My daughter, my little angel…” There was no denying how her heart leapt as her father whispered those words to her, and that brief flash of pride she saw in his face made the bone deep chill easier to endure. Her eyes drifted closed as his lips brushed against her forehead, and then each cheek, before meeting her own. There they remained, coaxing hers to part which they did… eagerly… their tongues tangling together. She melted in his embrace, losing herself in him, so much so that she didn't even notice the sacred waters closing in around her face, fully submerging her beneath its surface. ​

 

[Father Figure]

Thomas Armitage "Then the Lord said to Moses, 'Stretch out your hand toward the sky so that darkness spreads over Egypt—darkness that can be felt.'"​ Exodus 10:21​ Beneath the surface, the world above was lost to them, replaced by an all-encompassing silence that pressed in from every direction. The cold of the fluid was unrelenting, seeping into their bones as they sank deeper into the abyss. The liquid, thick and unyielding, clung to their bodies like a second skin, pulling them down into the void where all sense of direction and time was obliterated. The darkness was absolute, a tangible force that wrapped around them, erasing the boundaries of their bodies until they were little more than shadows in the vast, empty expanse. As they descended further into the depths, the last traces of light and warmth were consumed, leaving only the crushing weight of the void. In this space, nothing existed but the cold, the dark, and the distant, almost imperceptible pulse of the abyss itself. The fluid around them seemed to hum with an ancient, unfathomable power, as if the darkness itself was alive, absorbing them into its eternal, silent embrace. All thoughts, all memories, all remnants of the world they once knew were stripped away, leaving them suspended in the blackness, mere echoes in infinite oblivion. Throughout the entirety of the submersion there was no moment that her Father's lips were not upon hers, sharing in the mingling of their tongues, and the absence of all other sensory input honed their attention to that one single point of entanglement. As they drifted deeper into the void, the liquid began its silent work, its touch both gentle and relentless. The fabric of their clothing, once clinging to their bodies, now seemed to unravel, the threads dissolving into the dark fluid as if they had never existed. Jewelry, once gleaming with the light of the world above, was stripped away effortlessly, the metal corroding into nothingness in the cold, unforgiving embrace of the abyss. Every material possession was undone, dissolved into the liquid that surrounded them, leaving only the bare, vulnerable essence of their beings. With each passing moment, the remnants of the physical world were consumed by the darkness, until all that remained was the person themselves. Stripped of every adornment, every layer of identity they had once known. They floated, suspended in the thick, timeless eddies, untouched by anything but the cold, all-encompassing liquid that held them. In this state, they were no longer bound by the trappings of the mortal world, their very essence laid bare to the infinite darkness, alone yet deeply connected to the void that had swallowed everything else. They could simply be. In that liminal space her father spread her wide, opening Kaitlyn to his demand, though she was welcoming to the intention. There was no panic in the actions of the man touching her, as if he would be accepting should the connection between them be lost, but surely his daughter did not feel the same. He was now the only thing in her existence, in the most literal of meanings. In a universe of nothingness, her Father might as well be her God, for he was the only thing that mattered. Those hands guided her against him, his body rough and muscular, a hewn beast that she could feel pressing closer, and in one sweet thrust he breached deep within. This was unlike before though, for there was no cruelty in the action. This was a mark of succor, a deed of adoration, a welcoming into rebirth. This was the consummation of something unearthly, but very much tied to the mortal realm, for was that not the transcendent state of heightened ecstasy? A dichotomy of physical lust that could take a person into the realms of divinity. This was the act inflicted upon her by the man she called Father, an action of love done in the name of horror, whose penultimate expression was the deep thrust of his cock until he was completely within her. They were whole now.​

 

[Pretty.Poison]

𝓚𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓐𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓮 Darkness. Emptiness. Nothingness. Except, it wasn't nothing. Nothing didn't cling to your skin. It didn't hum and pulse with a life of its own. It wasn't a tangible, palpable, visceral thing that could swallow you beneath its crushing weight. Whatever this abyss… this void… was, it wasn't nothing. It was everything. The cold that seeped in down to her bones was a constant, but here in this space it wasn't unbearable. Of course maybe it was because she was too focused on the feel of her father's lips pressed to hers, on the way he tasted, and the way his tongue tangled with hers. She clung to him almost as tightly as the fluid did to their bodies, her only anchor in this vast darkness. His tattered robes seemed to melt away, dissolving into the blackness around them, leaving nothing between them. Skin on skin. The now meaningless cross that had dangled around her slender neck… dissipated into the void. Everything stripped away until it was just the two of them… suspended together in this dark expanse. There was no right or wrong, no societal ideals, ethics, morals or laws… none of that mattered here… here they could just be. To say that Kaitlyn was eager when her father spread her open was an understatement. She understood now that this was her purpose, that it had been all along. Here in this darkness was the beginning, the birth… her true birth… as the Eve to his Adam. Together they would usher forth a new Eden, and populate it with those made in their own images… a new paradise… and they would lead their congregation in worship of the old ones. It all seemed so clear to her now… she had been made for him. Those years of striving to please him, to make him proud only to be met with cold apathy… it had all been to form her, mold her into what he needed her to be. And now… now… they would become one. At least that was Kaitlyn’s interpretation, of course maybe it was all madness… It didn't matter, all that truly mattered was the man she clung to… the man that held her… the large, strong hands that pulled her against him. She wanted this… maybe she had always wanted this… In stark contrast to the other night when he’d taken her anally in the church, this was… loving, almost gentle… as gentle as her father was capable of being. Her arms curled around his shoulders, her legs hooked over his hips, holding onto him as if her life depended on it. His first thrust split her open. No matter how loving the act was, his size and her tightness mean there was going to be pain, it was inevitable. She tightened her hold on him, tears burning the corners of her eyes. “Daddy… it hurts…” she whimpered, unsure if the words would even produce sound in the abyss that surrounded them. She clawed at his shoulders as he drove deeper still, a pained cry leaving her lips before she buried her face against his neck. She trembled in his embrace, not from the cold alone but from the overwhelming sensations from it all. Another deep thrust had him buried inside her, a scream tearing from her throat, it felt as if she was being torn in half around his cock. Time was immeasurable, she had no concept of how long they stayed that way, with him buried inside her. Her body adjusted, conforming to be the perfect fit around him, as if that's exactly what she’d been made to do. The pain faded, and what was left behind was ecstasy, peace, a sense of being complete. There was no doubt of her place in her father's heart, there was no concern on whether her faith was devout, there was no wondering as to her true calling… She was his, and that made her whole. ​

 

[Father Figure]

Thomas Armitage ​ "And the dragon stood on the shore of the sea. And I saw a beast coming out of the sea. He had ten horns and seven heads, with ten crowns on his horns, and on each head a blasphemous name." Revelation 13:1​ Time no longer existed here, only the endless, suspended dark. In the void, Kaitlyn's awareness had drifted, consciousness bleeding into nothingness, until there was no past, no future, only this endless present. Her body was a weightless form, wrapped around him, held in an intimate stillness, so perfect that she had forgotten where she ended, and he began. The cold, heavy silence of the abyss cradled them both, their forms melding as if they had always belonged here, sculpted by some unspoken will. The agony of separation had vanished, leaving only a deep, primal peace, a bliss beyond thought or sensation. She was whole, perfectly connected, as if this union had been carved into the very bones of her existence. But then, the stillness shifted. It began as a faint tremor in the void, a ripple in the fabric of reality, subtle at first, like the quiet murmur of something vast, stirring at the edge of perception. Then it grew. The darkness warped, its cold, indifferent silence shattered by a presence, something vast and unutterable, moving through the emptiness. It was not seen, not fully (no eye could comprehend its form) but its arrival was undeniable. The liquid surrounding them grew heavier, as if responding to this being's impossible gravity. The abyss recoiled and reformed, bending and twisting, reshaping itself as the very essence of the universe trembled beneath the weight of the incomprehensible. A massive, shifting thing, with limbs and shapes that defy conventional geometry. Its form was fluid, ever-changing, pulsing with a rhythm that did not belong to linear thought. Space itself contorted around it, collapsing and expanding in unnatural ways. The void that had once held her so completely now trembled in servitude; its dark pulse synchronized to this entity's chaotic will. There were glimpses of tentacles that writhed through dimensions, mouths that never opened yet devoured stars, and eyes. Oh God too many eyes! Eyes that blinked in and out of reality, watching, not with malice, but with a cold, infinite indifference. Understanding remained out of reach, but enough slipped through the senses of the mortal coil to crack her thoughts apart like fragile glass. A fragment of consciousness adrift in this alien landscape. The universe was no longer empty but filled with unbearable realization. It was alive, a breathing, writhing expanse of oblivion, bending to the will of something so ancient and incomprehensible that the young girl's psyche splintered under the mere suggestion of attention. Echoes of screams filled the silence, unearthly, all of them tainted with the flavor of her voice even though she never opened her mouth. And what of her father, the man that she had offered herself to. What had become of him? Her father, once a man of flesh and blood, now was something far beyond human. The mortal shell remained but his skin stretched taut over muscle and bone; his face familiar yet disquietingly wrong. His eyes were hollow pits of blackness, depthless and cold. Beneath his skin, something moved. His flesh quivered with a barely suppressed violence, as if the god itself was trapped inside clawing at the fragile prison of mortality. Bursting free. The cosmos struggled as it writhed within. And terrifyingly he was still within her, penetrating her, both with tongue and cock, though such things no longer resembled their physical appendages. They elongated, they engorged, they grew slender when confines were tight. They pushed, prodded, and pressed their way deep inside Kaitlyn's body. Stretching her abnormally, deeper than anything she could have ever possibly imagined. Defiled, corrupted, and sanctified as the eldritch powers began to fuck her not just to the point of madness, but through it. What beautiful horror.​