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The Only Rules That Matter: Exploration (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

Jenny couldn't help but smile and twist Father Michael's dark curls around her fingers as her other hand stroked his cock and he agreed that God forgives. His hands were still all over her, feeling her back and rear as he'd never felt a woman's flesh. A low chuckle escaped as he reminded more himself than her that he was a priest and circled her nipple with his tongue. Her thumb moved in small, gentle circles over the tip of his head, spreading his precum before sliding it lower. She made a small noise of want when she felt his head against her wet slit, but didn't do anything to him yet. She wanted to make sure he was the one who did it, that he couldn't claim anything other than giving in to temptation.

"I should stop," she whispered in agreement, sighing and biting her lip as his fingers began to stroke her. She could feel her juices slicking Father Michael's fingers though he hadn't completely given in yet "I shouldn't do this," Jenny agreed again, nodding with a seductive little pout. "But don't you want me to do this, Michael? Do you want me to stop?" She moaned softly as she moved her hips, grinding against his cock and moving against his fingers. "Did not Moses and Aaron work the miracles of God with a divine rod?" The pad of her thumb circled his tip again. "Do you not want to cleanse me of my sin and fill me with the grace of God?" Gently she pressed his lips to her breasts again. God but he was so close to giving in...
 
Father Michael shifted, slipping against her body as hecworshipped her breasts and throat. Finally he gripped her thighs and lifted, opening her wider and moaning as he felt his head slide between her lips. Between, and then within, and then suddenly his cock was engulfed in a paradise of hot, slick flesh as she slid down over him and took him completely. "Temotress," he groaned, his hips rising to meet hers as he thrust into her. "Jezebel. Scarlet... painted... harlot!"

Muscles in his thighs and back bunched as he rose and turned, burying himself deeper in her body as he pressed her into the wall of the confessional. "Dies not... the Lord say... do not withhold discipline?" His cock pistoned into her, the fingers supporting her weight digging in deep. "If... if you... punish them... with the... the rod... they will.... will not... die..."

He found her mouth, tongue forcing past her lips as he kissed her. "The lipss of... of a strange woman drop as... as an... honeycomb," he panted, biting her throat. "And her mouth is... is smoother than... than oil..." His nails dug in, leaving littke crescent marks. One stung, weeping a little blood. "But her... her end is... bitter as... as wormwood... sharp as a.. a.. a.. twoedged... sword..."

His breath was sharper, and he felt himself losing control. "Repent... harlot..." he gasped. "And... and... receive the... the gift of... of... the... Holy... Ghost..!" And with that, his cock pulsed and he bit down on her shoulder, slamming into her one last time as his orgasm took him and he flooded her womb with his cum.
 
Jenny sighed in delight and relief when finally he lifted her and she slid down on his hot, thick shaft. Even as he enjoyed her he called her a whore and she smiled.

"Ssshh," she whispered, putting a finger to his lips. "There are still parishioners out there, Michael. Wouldn't want them to hear my confession." Her hips rolled as she moved up and down his throbbing cock. "Was not Rahab an ancestor of the Christ?" she pointed out with a wicked little grin.

In response Father Michael rose and buried himself deep inside her as he pressed her to the wall of the confessional. She moaned and mewled as quietly as she could as he held her against the wall. "Punish me, Father," she whispered, not entirely certain whether she were talking to the priest or to God. He kissed her hard, entwining his tongue with hers before biting her throat as he quoted from proverbs. Jenny felt a drop of blood slide down her flank, but the pain felt good. It felt good to be punished for her multitude of sins; if he could drag his nails across her skin, leaving trails weeping blood, she might feel a little cleansed.

"Reward her...even...as she rewarded...you," she panted, biting his lip, for was she not as great a sinner as the Whore of Babylon? Did she not in her heart think I sit as a queen, and am no widow, and no mourning shall I ever see? She'd done her mourning centuries ago, and now this pain was finally making her feel something again. She was starting to get close. But Father Michael had other ideas, not heeding her own pleasure and instead biting her hard enough that she had to bite her lip to keep from yelling as he came inside her. Panting, Jenny slowly let her legs down and shook her head. "That's no way to treat a lady, Michael," she chided gently, bending down to pull her dress back up. "I'll have to come back, you know. I don't think I'll have truly received God's grace until you know how it feels to have a woman cum on your cock, milking you for all you're worth then begging for more." Leaning in she kissed him as she did up her last button. "Peace be with you, Father. Go with God." Jenny crossed herself before exiting the confessional and leaving.

~*~

She'd told John she was going to Church, and that wasn't a lie. Jenny hadn't gone to mass, sure, but she'd gone to church. She still hadn't told him how her confession went, though she'd told him that she felt better after. Secrets weren't her way, but they weren't secrets, were they? She was just waiting for the right time to tell him. When was the right time to tell him that she'd fucked a priest in a confessional, and that she'd been replaying it in her mind all week? Jenny ran her hands over a knotted flail which was amongst the other various priestly things in the sacristy where she waited for mass to be over. Her family hadn't believed in mortification of the flesh but now, hundreds of years later, she felt herself yearning for it. She had to be held accountable for the things she'd done, the things she'd allowed to be done to her, and there was nobody to hold her accountable except herself. Jenny had stopped praying long ago, when it felt like God had turned His back to her for living beyond her natural years and doing what she did. Maybe if she truly repented, He'd come back...

"Father!" Jenny turned with a smile when the Sacristy door opened then closed again. Her hand was still on the flail but she hadn't picked it up. "It was mass, so I thought it better that I wait here. I just...I couldn't stop thinking about everything you said to me the other day during confession." One hand absently toyed with the collar of her thin cotton sun dress. "I don't feel as though I've fully repented. Because you were right, I am a scarlet-painted harlot. God...He doesn't talk to me like he used to, but the other day I felt Him working through you. What I wouldn't give to feel His presence, His gifts, His grace again. Just one more time, Father." She pouted prettily, her hand moving from her collar to toy with one coppery curl.
 
Father Michael sat in stunned silence as she left. Long minutes passed, and then he heard the penitant's door open and close. His cock twitched at tge thought she might have returnedm but it was a rough masculine voice that spoke. "Bless me Father, for I have sinned..."

He responded by rote, barely aware of what he said. That evening he spent the night on his knees, tormented by guilty memories of pleasure and oraying fir forgiveness. At dawn, he knew he should go to his superior and confess. But he found excuse after excuse, and the days passed, and he found himself looking for his deceptively demire copper-haired harlot. His body ached fir her, craved her, and his nights were tormented by dream-succubi with pale skin and copper hair who took his cock between lios or thighs and woke him to the sensation of his seed spilling to stain his nightclothes.

Friday evening found him entering the Sacristy, stripping off his vestments with the same care he'd given the Mass he'd celebrated. That is, none. He'd done it by rote, memorized prayers and songs repeated without thought or intent, still lost in guilt and confusion. "Father."

Jennifer Sparrow. Seated on the chest that held the vestments. Clad in a thin, clinging dress that seemed almost worse than nudity. Her hand toyed with the scooped neckline, stroking the soft breasts that the fine cotton dudn't conceal. "You... you shouldn't be in here.x

Her response was to explain that she'd been ashamed to enter the chapel during mass, because he had been right. She was just a whore, desoerate for salvation. He knew he shiuld offer council, shoukd explain that nine were beyond repentence and redemption. But her lips were painted the colir of bloid, and her pout called attention to them, and blood surged in his cock as he imzgined them wrrapped around his shaft.

"Forgiveness," he said thickly, "requires more than words. There must be penance, and genuine contrition." He could see her, as he'd seen her in his dreams, kneeling before him and taking him in her mouth. "What penance, do you think, must you do for your whoredoms and your abominations before the Lord?"
 
Surely he wasn't that mercurial? He hadn't put his immortal soul in danger for a single quickie in the confessional? No...with the way he shifted his weight she could tell he hadn't slipped that easily from her grasp. Father Michael had been thinking about her just as surely as she'd been thinking about him. It was even possible that they had similar amounts of guilt and confusion over what had happened, but undeniable that they both wanted more. The forbidden nature of it only made it better.

"I don't know," Jenny answered honestly when he asked her what penance she thought she deserved. "I was hoping you could show me the way." Her free hand wrapped around the flail and offered it to him while she remained doe-eyed, still pouting.

"My punishment the other evening wasn't enough, Father Michael," she insisted gently. "I need to feel that again, to feel the agony I deserve before being filled with His grace. I thought..." She glanced at the door briefly to make sure it was closed all the way. "I thought perhaps we could be afforded more privacy for that here than in the confessional."
 
He took the flail slowly, startled by her words and its presence. The thing was old, surely, but... yes, it was an instrument of the church. Something hidden away in a closet somewhere and forgotten. And she sounded so sincere, even though he could see the hunger in her eyes. She wanted this! Wanted this as much as he wanted her, moaning beneath him as he used her lije the others. Used her like a...

"Whore!" he snarled, seizing her by the arm and dragging her to her feet. "You think you are worthy to sit within the house of the Lord?" Turning, he roughly shoved her against the stone wall of the sacristy and pushed down in her shoulder. "You belong in your knees! Beg the Lord for forgiveness!"

He knelt behind her, hands roaming her body and finding nothing beneath the thin cotton as he worked the buttons. One tore free, bouncing across the floor in his haste as he dragged the dress down around her hips. "Pray," he barked in her ear. "An Our Father, once for each time you've defiled your marriage bed with a man not your husband."

He rose, twitching the mass of notted cords as he stared at her bare back. Unsatisfied, he pushed her forward onto hands and knees. "Abase yourself before your God, whore, and beg His mercy." He pulled the dress lower, exposing her shapely rear and displaying the healing purple marks he'd left on her skin. "Naked before your God, oray," he husked, bringing the knotted cords down in her ass. "A Hail Mary, for each time you have defiked yourself by lying with a woman." He struck again, the cords leaving thin red lines across her back.

"Pray, whore," he ordered, cock twitching in anticipation. "Beg to feel the Rod of the Lord's judgement, filling you with His glory!"
 
Slowly Father Michael took the flail, looking almost disbelieving that she would want this. Jenny had turned whips and belts and all manner of other means of flagellation against many men and women over the years, but she'd never taken it herself. Sure, she'd let herself get slapped around a few times, spanked, but never actually hit. She'd been too afraid of the pain. Then the priest had gotten rough with her and in the intervening days she'd made a decision to try it. It had felt...cleansing.

Jenny yelped in genuine surprise when Father Michael suddenly gripped her arm and dragged her to her feet. She grunted as he shoved her against the wall but slid obediently to her knees. "Mercy, o God!" she cried out, reaching up to the crucifix hanging over her on the wall. Father Michael took advantage of this position to kneel behind her and let his hands roam freely. "Visit your divine forgiveness on a poor sinner such as I!"

But when he instructed her to pray she shook her head. "Father...we'd be here for hours if--" Father Michael pushed her forwards so she was prostrate on her hands and knees between him and the cross. "Have mercy on me, Lord," she begged obediently, "and through your servant visit upon me your holy justice." It was a twisted mockery of penance and she knew it, but part of her hoped the Lord had heard her and would cleanse her wrecked soul through whatever Michael was about to do to her. Jenny jumped a little as the cords came down unexpectedly on her. Well that hadn't been too bad... "Father I've lain with hundreds of women," she admitted. If it wouldn't have taken hours she would have recited every prayer he told her to. Instead the flail came down on her back and she yelped. That had hurt more, but damned if it hadn't been hot.

"Please my Lord God!" Jenny called out plaintively. "Let Your servant Michael fill me with Your glory and grace! Let him visit Your divine wrath upon my flesh! Let him not spare me the rod and through him cleanse my twisted soul!" She spread her knees a little on the hard marble floor, enough for Father Michael to see her inner thighs glistening as their blasphemy made her cunt ache in need for him. "Punish me, Michael," she pleaded from her place on the floor. "Naked and sinful before our Lord punish me for His sake!"
 
Father Michael tugged at his slacks, struggling to get the zipper open as he knelt behind her. "You think you've earned a measure of his grace, you scarlet whore!" His cock rubbed against thighs and ass before he finally found her bare slit, and he gasped as he thrust himself into her! "Then receive the Lord, and seek his forgiveness!"

Still wearing most of his vestments he began plowing into her, gripping her long red hair with his left hand as an anchor. He pulled back, forcing her to look up at the image of the crucified savior. The whip struck, lashes snaking over her shoulder and across her braset. "Pray!" he barked, lashing her again. "Beg God the infinite, God the merciful, that He pour out His grace and grant you the glory of forgiveness!" Again the lash, this time across her belly and thighs, his cock driving deep into her again and again. "Beg!"
 
"I could never hope to earn His grace," Jenny admitted, "but only hope He might have the mercy to visit it upon an undeserving whore." She gasped when Michael thrust into her, finding it a little difficult to brace herself on the hard, smooth marble.

"Then receive the Lord, and seek his forgiveness!"

She breathed in with a hiss as he unexpectedly anchored himself by closing his fist around her hair. It tore painfully at her scalp, but she found herself not caring even if he pulled out fistfuls of the hair which had long been her one point of personal vanity. Father Michael forced her to look up at the large golden crucifix and she yelped as the whip struck her breast. Jenny braced herself with her hands against the wall, crying out each time he lashed her.

"O Lord, Jesus Christ," she cried out, "Redeemer and Saviour, forgive my sins. Count not my transgressions, but, rather, my tears of repentance. Remember not my iniquities, but, more especially, my sorrow for the offenses I have committed against You. I pray that You will love me and come to make Your dwelling place within me." Tears streaked down her face as Father Michael whipped her harder and harder. "Please Lord I beg that You come inside me and fill me with Your goodness and Your grace. Amen." Jenny took one hand from the wall and let it slide down to stroke her clit as Father Michael plowed her.

"No blow is hard enough to cleanse me of my sins," she encouraged, crying out as the whip curled around to strike her ribs and breasts before he brought it down on her back. "Let me cum, Father," Jenny begged. "Let me experience the glory of the Lord before receiving Him in me!"
 
She was touching herself! The slattern was touching herself, while she begged for forgiveness. He cracked the whio across her shoulders, and this time a thin trickle if blood dripped down her back. "Cum?" he snarled, tightening his grip on her hair until her bare back pressed against his vestments. He kissed her roughly, letting the thongs of the whip trail over her breasts abd down her belly, then twusted her head to stare at the crucifix once mire. "It's not pleasure you seek, whore. You must deny your lusts, and take up His cross, and follow him!"

He pushed her forward now, gripping both hips as she sprawled, and drove himself mercilessly into her body. "Kyrie... eleison..." he gasped in time with his thrusts. "Kyrie... eleison..." One hand groped and found the whip, striking her back once more. "Sing! Sing, and seek the release from bondage granted by th Lord God!" His cick speared deep again and again. "Lord... have... mercy. Christ... have... mercy..." And then he could hold back no longer as his seed gushed deep into her whore's cunt, dripping down her thighs and staining his vestments as he came.

The entire timem the eyes of Christ Crucifued stared diwn at him.

Finally, he pulled out and staggered to his feet. "Clean yoursef," he grunted, throwing her a rag. "Clean yiurself, and say the Our Fathers and Hail Marys. When you are done, come back to receive absolution."
 
Jenny cried out as the whip came down over her shoulders, her cunt tightening around him even as it did so. That may have actually broken the skin. She begged to be allowed to cum ad though he pulled her hair deliciously and kissed her roughly it was clear that he was starting to buy his own con now; not good. Jenny would have to show him exactly who was in charge here. It certainly wasn't God. She was returned to her hands and knees and he fucked her mercilessly.

"Lord...have...mercy, Father Michael panted.

"Lord have mercy," Jenny echoed, looking up at the cross and almost feeling as though she might be genuine.

"Christ...have...mercy."

"Christ have mercy!"

She gasped as he came suddenly and without warning, and before she knew it he was on his feet and throwing her a rag. Jenny took it and cleaned herself up, but didn't leave. If she really did say the Our Fathers and Hail Marys he'd instructed her to they'd be there all day. She'd been with thousands of men and women, though he couldn't possibly know that. Instead she spread herself on the floor, legs straight out and her arms to the sides in a mockery of the Crucifixion. If she could die then she was going to Hell anyway--if not for doing the work of a heathen God then for everything she'd done since--so might as well enjoy the ride down.

"Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name," she purred, watching Father Michael. "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation," one hand slid down her body to her clit where her fingers began to work slowly, "but deliver us from evil. For the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory are Yours now and forever. Amen." She spread her legs and bent her knees to afford Father Michael a better view.

"That's twice now you've cum without me," she pointed out. "But you're--were--a virgin, I suppose you don't know any better. You don't know how good it feels when a woman cums around your cock. The way she squeezes, clenches...the way she screams and calls out your name to Heaven. God how I wish you'd let me cum on your cock, Father." Jenny sighed and let her other hand slide down to slip two fingers inside of her while the other hand rubbed her clit. "But I guess I'll just have to settle on you watching, if you won't let me. You know, they say feeling a woman cum is the closest to Heaven a man gets without dying..."
 
Father Michael stared down at her, striped with the welts of her penance and dripping with his seed as she plunged her fingers in and out of her slick whore's cunt. "You may touch yourself," he said, going to his knees before her, "but do not let yourself cum. Self-abuse is a sin, after all. The sin of Onanism." He gripped his cock in his hand, feeling the semi-hard length slick and stick with her juices and his cum, and began stroking it in time with the motion of her fingers. "You will tell me when you are close," he ordered, feeling his dick begin to harden as she spread herself for his view and arched her hips into her hand. "But you do not cum, do you understand?"

She didn't respond, and he struck her across the breasts with the thongs. It was a light, off-handed blow that did more to caress than to sting. "Do you understand!" he barked. "If it is like unto Heaven, then it is not given to an unabsolved sinner to enter therein. But guided by a priest..." He scooted closer, letting her feel the hot head of his cock against her fingers as she played with herself. The friction made him groan a little, longing to bury his aching shaft in her body once more. "Guided by a priest, " he repeated, "a sinner may taste of the mercies and glories of Heaven in a small measure, and seek redemption."

He caressed her breasts and stomach with the thongs of the whip once more, then pinched a stiff nipple and tugged. "Are you close, Jezebel? Does your whore's cunt quiver at the thought of receiving the Lord's grace once more?" He twisted his fingers in her hair, kissing her roughly as she moved upon her fingers. His hand moved on his cock harder and faster, his head rubbing over her hand and stomach. "Open to me," he demanded. "Receive the Lord, and be comforted thereby."
 
"Perhaps I wouldn't have to abuse myself if my abuse were done properly," Jenny countered cheekily as Father Michael chided her, smirking. She moaned and shifted her hips as her fingers slid over her clit while she watched him stroke himself. After nearly thirty years beating off the priest seemed to have some stamina, after all. Deciding to get uppity she chose not to answer when he instructed her the first time not to let herself cum.

"Yes, Father," she answered breathily when he struck her across the breasts. They moaned as one as he rubbed the head of his shaft against her fingers and she parted them so that her fingers caressed either side of his head while she played with herself.

"Are you close, Jezebel? Does your whore's cunt quiver at the thought of receiving the Lord's grace once more?"

"God yes!" Jenny gasped before moaning against his lips when he kissed her roughly. Obediently she slid her fingers from her dripping cunt and moaned loudly as Father Michael slid inside her once more. Taking his hand she guided his fingers to her clit before grabbing his hips with both hands. "Bless me with the glories of Heaven, Father," she pleaded, arching her back and squirming as he rubbed her clit. "Bless me with the Grace of the Lord!"
 
Slick as she was, lubricated by both their bodies, he barely felt himself enter her. But he very much felt her around him, soft slick folds surrounding him as she arched her hips up to meet his. Her fingers, defiled by her self-abuse, gripped at his hips. So he caught her wrists, pulling her arms away and pinning them to the floor as he forced her bare back against the chill stone. "Harlot!" he snapped, biting at her throat. "Unclean hands do not touch the vestments if the Lord's servant!"

The feel of her body, her soft breasts and firm belly, was maddening through the clothes he wore. He levered himself up, cock driving deeper into her as he rose, and dragged his cassock over his head with shaking, clawed fingers. He was back on her before the cloth landed, the feel of her bare body against his own electric. Like a starving man finding meat he filled his hands with her, palms sliding iver thighs and flanks and breasts, and her flavor filled him as he licked and kissed and bit.

"Cum," he demanded, his cock pounding deep into her dripping, pulsing slit. "Behold paradise, as you get fucked like the whore you are!"
 
Jenny only had mere moments to feel his hips pistoning beneath her hands before he pulled them away and pinned them to the floor. She gasped at the cold of the stone and simultaneous teeth at her throat. When he reprimanded her for touching his vestments with her cum-slicked fingers she couldn't help but laugh. It felt like someone else laughing even as the sound reached her own ears, but she could feel herself grinning.

"Then take them off," she demanded, putting up only a token struggle against his grip. When Michael drove his cock deeper into her Jenny cried out, arching her back and balling her hands into fists. He dragged his cassock off and before the fabric touched the floor they'd fallen into one another's embrace. She wrapped her arms around him, fingers finding the details of a muscular back and fine, tight ass before she pressed her nails into his skin and dragged them up from his hips to his shoulders, trading kiss for kiss and bite for bite.

"Cum," he demanded, his cock pounding deep into her dripping, pulsing slit. "Behold paradise, as you get fucked like the whore you are!"

"Yes!" Jenny cried out, arching her back and digging her nails into his flesh once more. "Oh God Michael! Michael!" Her voice rose to a scream with his name falling easily off of her tongue as her tight cunt pulsed around his hard shaft, milking him, begging him to cum inside her again. "Fuck...Michael..." she panted as she came down from her orgasm, clinging tightly to him, pressing kisses up and down his neck. "Mmm...Fuck me again," she murmured, letting herself fall back onto the stone but keeping her legs wrapped around his hips, knees pressed against his sides. One finger slid down the line between his pectorals. "Chest and back like yours...I need all the grace God will give me, and I can't receive it alone."
 
"God!" Michael gasped, as Jenny screamed his name and came around him. She was right. The feel of her pleasure milking his dick was glorious, a taste of heaven on Earth. But as she writhed and bucked beneath him, then begged to be fucked again, he realized something. He was still thick and hard within her. He hadn't cum. Probably, he realized because he had cum once already.

"Fuck you again?" he murmured, voice hungry. He caressed her cheek, kissing her and tasting the inside of her mouth. "Beg me." As he said the words and felt her response he began to move within her, a gentle roll of the hips that pushed his cock deep into her body. "Beg me to fuck you, Jennifer Sparrow."

His thrusts became harder. Soon he was braced on hands and knees, watching her body bounce and quiver with each thrust. "Beg me!" he demanded, biting at one full breast. "Call on the name of the Lord! Seek His forgiveness, and make yourself ready to receive His blessings!" He was so close to cumming again, but he would hold out. This time, when he filled her sweet whore's cunt, ir would be with her pleasure milking his cum from him. "Beg me!"
 
"Mmmm fuck me," Jenny complied readily, writhing beneath the priest. "Fuck me, Father, for I've sinned. Oh God please...!"

Father Michael kissed her hard and fucked her harder. He leaned over her body, his thrusts making her breasts bounce with each thrust. She cried out as his teeth bit into one of her breasts, but one hand only flew to his hair and gripped it hard. "Lord God forgive me!" she cried out, feeling her body begin to tighten again. "Forgive me through Your servant Michael and through him fill me with Your grace." Jenny's back arched. "Fuck me Michael! Harder!"

Without warning Jenny's cunt clenched around his throbbing shaft again and she cried out something inarticulate. She pulled Father Michael's body against hers, nails biting into the flesh of his ribs as she leaned her forehead against his, panting hard. At last she felt sated and spent, and was more disturbed by the fact that the presence of Christ crucified hadn't disturbed her than by the cross itself. What was happening to her?
 
Later...

"I'm worried about you, Jenny."

Jack rose from the bed, eyes widening a littke as she stripped off her dress. He knew she'd developed a taste for rougher sex, particularly in the last three years. After she'd been raped - something she'd only told him in the last year, long after it was too late to make the bastard really suffer. He'd tried to join in to please her, but he didn't care for the extremes she could take it. A little bondage, a little biting and spanking? Sure, he was fine with that. But hard sadism and msochism was a downright turn-off for him.

Jack started to stroke one of the welts that crossed her body, then stopped. "This... Jenny." There was concern in his voice as he turned to get his first aid kit. Infestions wouldn't kill either of them, but proper treatment still made things heal faster and cleaner. "This is a little far, Jenny. Welts? Bleeding?"

She winced as he applied the antiseptics, and he shook his head. "I mean, I know you say that some pain makes the pkeasure greater, but you shouldn't get injured." He finished up, and bandaged the two welts that had spkit and bked. "We'll be dine here in fwo days, love. Please... promise me you won't go back to these peopke again." He kissed her, gently at first but with increasing hunger as she returned the gesture. "Really, please don't. I... I don't want anything to happen to you." Again, he thought but didn't say.
 
"Worried?" Jenny scoffed, slipping off her dress. "Whatever for?" She winced a little as the fabric slipped over her skin before kicking it toward the small pile of dirty clothes in the corner. Her husband apparently had a problem with the welts and cuts criss-crossing her back and wrapping around her sides. "You should see the other guy," she joked grimly.

John's concern was touching, but there was something about it which made her resentful. Where had he been, after all, when she'd been raped? Why was using herself as rapist bait apparently okay but consenting to being whipped wasn't? Who was he to decide how far she was allowed to take it? She had sovereignty over her own body, after all. It was her choice! Jenny suppressed the anger his concern had raised in her and bit her lip.

"Fine," she finally said, returning the kiss. "Nothing's gonna happen to me, but fine. I won't."

~*~

The next evening

"Do you ever see Heaven, Father?"

The church was empty. It was nearly ten at night and Jenny had stayed away all day, going about her job before showing up here. It was almost immediately obvious that she was high off her gourd, but only God knew from what. She sat on the altar, leaning back on her hands as she watched Father Michael walk down the aisle.

"Do you see Heaven or God whenever you fuck me? Whenever you feel that release building in your loins then blinding you to everything but pleasure?" She let her head hang back and stared upside-down at the golden crucifix hanging over the altar. "I think I might, sometimes. If it's really good. It's not really good with you, of course; you're a virgin and while you're not terrible at fucking you obviously don't know what you're doing. But that whip though..." Jenny's head felt heavy as she pulled it back up to look at him.

"I'm leaving in the morning," she said suddenly before holding out a Polaroid camera to him. "Thought you might want something to remember me by. You can tack it up in the confessional and jack off whenever you get bored of listening to unoriginal sins." Jenny posed for him on the altar while waiting for him to take the camera. Her legs were crossed, hiding that treasure between them, and although she was clad only in his stole--stolen from the sacristy--it covered her breasts teasingly. She could have been a pin-up in some blasphemous Playboy issue, only teasing at what pleasures she might be willing to share.
 
Father Michael had been drinking. Just a little, really. Finishing the consecrated sacramental wine, so that the blood of Christ wouldn't be polluted by being poured out on the earth. As if it wasn't being polluted by his sinful ways. His whoredoms and abominations. Which had led him to drink more, seeking to escape his doubts and guilt.

It had worked, to a degree. But it meant that he was a little unsteady as he crossed the chapel to begin the service on the altar. Which was orobably the reason that he didn't see her right away, because no other explanation made sense. Not with her bared body brazenly displayed in mockery of the Host. And Gid help him, he wanted her. Terribly.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, appalled. It was bad enough that the whore had seduced him in the sacristy. Must she tempt him in the very sanctuary?

Yes, it seemed, she must. He found himself numbky taking a few pictures, the camera snapping and hissing as she struck one lascivious pose after another. "Leaving? You're... leaving?"

The camera fell to the floor as he grabbed her, one hand pawing roughly at a naked breast as he pushed her back into the alrar. His mouth was hot and desperate on hers, his cock an iron rod as he tried to push between her thighs. "I'll have one last thing," he gasped, biting at her. "One last memory..."
 
Father Michael took the camera all but wordlessly. Picture after picture fell from the camera to the floor, developing there in the dim light behind the altar. Jenny struck pose after pose: looking coy with her legs crossed; knees spread but leaning forward so that the stole covered what Michael so badly wanted; on her knees on the altar, palms together in front of her as though in prayer if it weren't for the come-hither look on her face; standing in front of the altar, slightly bent at the waist with only her flank, back, and the side of her breast visible as she looked playfully over her shoulder. It was after this last one that her revelation seemed to strike the priest. The camera clattered to the floor along with the pictures.

Michael pushed her back, pawing at her, and Jenny winced as even through the numbness of her high she felt her hip pushed painfully against the white marble. Everything was a confusing blur as he grabbed her and pressed against her, trying to pry open her thighs and bite at her neck and shoulder. She cried out more in surprise than in pain--the pain she would be feeling in the morning--and clumsily tried to push him away. She wasn't exactly weak, but he seemed so much stronger than before.

"No, no," she protested, attempting to sound coy as she finally got free. "I said look, don't touch. I made a promise."

Truth be told, Jenny was in the mood for a little self-punishment. She wanted him to use her, then tie her to the cross with barbed wire and whip her until she bled. Maybe even crucify her upside-down like Peter, since she knew she wasn't worthy of anything remotely akin to the Christ of her childhood (as she internally called her first life), and make her suck his dick while he punished her. She could probably get off on that. But she had made a promise to John and she didn't intend to break it. She would take pictures for Michael and leave.

"Pick up the camera," she instructed, trying to readjust the stole over her breasts in as dignified away as possible.
 
Michael was confused at the protests she offered, and he stared down at the camera blankly. No? What did she mean, no? He wanted her, and he was sure she wanted him. Why else would she be here, brazenly displaying herself for him? He stared at her as she posed against the altar, blinking stupidly. Then a slow, predatory smile spread on his face. He knew what she wanted.

"Whore!" he snarled, stepping close and backhanding her. She cried out at the blow, making his aching cock twitch at the sound. "Slut!" He hit her again, remembering how much she enjoyed the taste of the lash. "You would refuse the Lord's representative, in His house?" He shoved her into the altar, kissing her roughly. She writhed lasciviously against him, inflaming his lust further, and then she shoved him away harder.

He growled hungrily, striking her again. The force if the blow half turned her and he grabbed her, forcing her belly and breasts down in the altar. "What dies a whore know of promises?" he snapped, using her hair as a handle to force her to look up at Christ on his cross. "You've broken every promise, every sacred vow made before Him!" He fumbled at his pants with his free hand, freeing his cock as she writhed against him. "But you can still receive the Lord's mercy!"

He drove into her roughly, feeling her convulse and hearing her cry out as he did. Fuck, but she'd been right. This was the closest a man could get to paradise on earth, feeling a woman clench around your hard length - tighter, even, than she'd been last night! "Beg for it!" he demanded, pounding into her. She felt differet, somehow, than she had the last time. But still glorious. "Beg to receive his grace!"
 
The priest seemed hesitant as he stared at the camera in his hands, then at her as she waited. She'd give him another minute or two then she'd--

Pain erupted across her face and Jenny cried out in pain and alarm. The camera was on the floor and Father Michael was far too close, hitting her again before grabbing her and shoving her against the altar. Through her haze the small of her back ached from being shoved and arched over the marble edge, and she couldn't feel her lips but was almost certain he was biting them too hard. He didn't know the rules of the game she'd taught him and didn't seem to care about her discomfort. Jenny struggled against him before managing to get her hands between them and shoved him hard.

"I said stop it!" Her voice was shriller than she'd hoped as it echoed in the sanctuary. She pushed her hair out of her face clumsily. "I-I made a promise. I don't break promises."

Michael struck her again and she lost her balance, her feet tangling around each other, but he grabbed her before she could fall entirely. The marble was cold on her breasts and stomach. Jenny struggled as he made her look up at the cross and shook her head when he claimed that she'd broken every promise she'd ever made. There was one she hadn't broken, and he was waiting for her. Why had she come here? Jenny brought her elbow up in an attempt to catch the priest in the face, but it was slow and clumsy and he easily caught her wrist. As she struggled she could feel him fumbling with his pats and tried with the other arm, but that was caught too and he spread her out, pinning her wrists to the altar in a perverse mockery of the cross before them.

Then there was pain. It wasn't the good kind of pain, the sort of pain that would make her writhe beneath him and beg for more. It was a searing pain that shot from her loins to her stomach and closed her throat. She tried to scream but in her pain it came out a strangled cry and tears sprang to her eyes. His shaft burned and throbbed painfully as he pounded into her. When he demanded that she beg for God's grace she shook her head weakly.

"Please," she sobbed, struggling against him. She tried to say "stop," but it came out only a squeaky whisper. Forced to look up at the cross Jenny prayed for it to be over soon. She knew that this was what she deserved, to be raped like some dockside whore after all she'd done, but did it have to last so long? Hadn't she always believed that God has mercy on the fallen, and she was about as fallen as they come? So where was God now?

Through Michael's grunting and snarling Jenny suddenly thought of something she hadn't for a long while: her family. Her parents, her brothers, her children, all dust long, long ago. But they said that loved ones look down on you from Heaven. Oh God...what would they think? What would they say? In a wave of shame and guilt tears poured down her face and Jenny sobbed as Michael pounded into her. Making her cry harder was that familiar feeling deep inside, and she lost the strength to look at the cross anymore.

"No," she whispered as she rested her head on the cold marble. "Please, no. Lord God please..." But her body betrayed her as her inner walls clenched and tightened around the priest's cock. She cried out, her voice strangled and she choked on her own tears, as she came entirely against her will. Sniffling, she rested one cheek against the altar, her eyes blank and glassy as she waited for him to finish, waited for this to finally be over. She knew she deserved this, but wasn't God supposed to be merciful? Wasn't He supposed to have died to save them from this sort of punishment? Or from falling in the first place? She had been a good woman, devout all her childhood. She had raised her children in the light of the Lord. But at every turn, both then and in this life, He'd abandoned her. He'd taken her daughter before she was even twelve; He hadn't brought her husband home despite their marriage nearly being destroyed; He hadn't kept her son from the same life his father had led; when she'd died and been conscripted into service He hadn't helped her stay on the path; and now here she felt His absence even in His own house. Jenny could almost feel her heart harden in that moment. This was no man of God, and maybe there wasn't even a God either. If there was, it certainly wasn't the God she'd always claimed to know.
 
Michael gasped as she came on his cock, then stiffened as he drove himself into her one last time. With a strangled cry his own orgasm took him, and he groaned as his seed pumped into her pulsing cunt. Finally, spent, he pulled out and grabbed the camera. Light flashed and the camera whirred and hissed, spitting out a picture of her bent iver the altar, his seed dripping frim her cunt and down one thigh.

Sudden loathing washed over him. Loathing for himself, and for her. "Get out," he said, gathering the photigraphs and tissing the camera at her feet. It bounced and clattered, shickingly loud in the silent, empty church. "An unrepentant sinner like you has no place in the house of God." He could still feel her on his soft, wet dick. "Forsake your whoredoms, Jennifer Sparrow, and one day you may still find forgiveness."

Turning his back on her, he walked away. As the door to the sacristy closed behind him, he could hear her sobbing.
 
"Instruments of Revenge"
Oia, Santorini, Greece 1909

"It was absolutely awful," Jenny was saying, crinkling her nose in disgust before taking another bite of her breakfast. The cafe hummed with quiet conversation so she kept her voice low as she recounted how her night had gone the previous evening. "I mean, you know I'm not picky about size, but there's only so much a woman can work with. Didn't feel a goddamned thing! Just sweating and grunting while he just sort of...pushed against me. He wasn't even adventurous to make up for it. I had to just lay there under him, waiting for him to be done. I made a grocery list in my head while he was at it, I got so bored. He didn't even ask if I'd finished! I didn't even come close, by the way!" Another mouthful of food stopped her ranting, but she still shook her head in disgust. "And hairy!" she added once she'd swallowed. "Not even in the good way, either. And--oh my God..."

Jenny's eyes focused on something over John's shoulder for a moment before she turned her face to the window. "He just walked in," she hissed. "I don't want to have to explain everything that's wrong with him--I don't even know where to start--and I don't want him to see me and start bragging. So let's just finish up quickly and go."

Behind John a tall, barrel-chested man had stepped into the cafe. On his arm was a handsome middle-aged woman who looked appropriate to be his wife. Behind them, however, trailed two twenty-something brunettes. Once they had found a table the man all but ignored his wife, instead pulling one of the younger women into his lap. She giggled as he kissed her neck and pawed at her breasts through her blouse, and the wife seemed to sit in resigned defeat while they waited for a waiter.
 
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