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Come on Your Knees before The Lord

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“You may be seated.”

We all mechanically, like a herd of obedient sheep, dropped to our creaking pews. Everyone in attendance settled in as comfortably as they could onto the wooden benches, preparing for the long sit through Pastor John’s sermon; that is, everyone but me.

I was riveted, perched on the edge of my seat. My eyes darted to the stairs leading to the stage where he would appear and pull the air straight from my lungs. His movements were always so graceful, strong, and self-assured that his entire congregation could not help but feel calmed and reassured just by his very presence.

Again, I must exclude myself.

Since the moment I hit puberty, Pastor John had the exact opposite effect on me; his self-assurance (which I now perceived as nothing less than raw masculinity) made me feel nervous and exposed. His steadfast stare always pinned me to the spot, and this morning was no exception.

I watched him climb the stairs leading to the pulpit, hulk over it, and meet my gaze once again. The air finally left my lungs after its painful imprisonment.

“Come broken before the Lord,” his strong voice rang out.

I shivered.

“For God does not want your pride or ego or independence.” He paused and I swear he looked at me, shaking at the edge of my seat

“He wants you on your knees.”

Fuck…

Pastor John continued his sermon on humbling yourself before God with his usual bravado and commanding presence while I sat back, nestled between my mother and father, and silently soaked my white panties.

Images of the well kempt, community beacon flashed through my head at every reference to kneeling and submitting before the almighty. Did the man (or anyone else in the congregation for that matter) not see the glaring implication? I looked out over the vacant faces of the service and assumed that I must be the only one fighting a strong urge to slip a hand under her lovely Sunday dress.

“And as you go into the world this week, know that the Lord gives you trials and tribulations not because he has abandoned you, no! But because he, in his infinite wisdom, knows what his servant needs. As we come to communion, find your way to your knees once again.”

People began to rise and make a line towards the front of the sanctuary to receive communion. I rose on my wobbly knees and straightened my dress, following behind my parents as we shuffled forward.

As I neared the front, I saw Pastor John place the body of Christ into each person’s mouth and silently prayed I would be able to keep my cool.

“This is the body of Christ, broken for you,” he said as he placed the cracker in father’s mouth. Father then moved onto the next station where Pastor John’s wife administered the wine to the congregants.

My turn.

I approached, head bowed, and when my doe eyes met Pastor John’s I thought I would faint. He neither smiled nor welcomed me like he had my mother and father.

“Open your mouth,” he instructed.

My mouth fell open in shock and obedience, my pink tongue peaking out above my full bottom lip.

“This is the body of Christ, broken for you.” Our eyes never broke as he placed the cracker in my mouth. Except there was something more. Something much more.

Pastor John had also placed one of his large, masculine fingers in my mouth. Almost on instinct I closed my mouth around the finger, for what else was I to do? My damp lips made a small ring around the phallic digit and I grew bold.

Do I dare?

I ran the tip of my tongue in a few circles around the tip of the finger, keeping my eyes on his for a reaction. Would he cast me out? Tell my parents? A wave of pleasure went through my body as I realized I had part of him inside of me.

His eyes darkened several shades as his finger pushed ever so slightly further into my mouth, but he neither smiled nor frowned as he towered over me. He then abruptly pulled his finger from my mouth and I involuntarily began to chew Kadıköy Esmer Escort the cracker and mumbled the old adage, “Thanks be to God.”

I shuffled to his oblivious wife at the next station and receive the blood of Christ. I then knelt at the alter for prayer, following the motion of years of repetition. Keeping my head bowed and eyes closed, I rocked gently to try and slow my breathing. I tried to think about anything else: school, puppies, state capitals, bones in the body…

Pastor John has a bone I’d like to see…

“Fuuuuck…” I whispered so quietly, rocking into my heals just a little harder. Even though the finger was probably just an accident, I felt the slightest glimmer of hope. Did he want me as much as I wanted him? Could he use my body like a proper patriarch? Would he punish me for my sins?

I bolted up and nearly sprinted to my seat.

As the service ended, people began filing out of the church. Two girls stopped to talk to me and I barely heard a word they said (something about not looking forward to finals next week?); I was too busy hoping my cum wouldn’t drip past the hemline of my dress…

Mother and father left for Sunday school and I made in the direction of the young adult class, but stopped on a bench in the hallway outside of the sanctuary. I sat there for ages, just waiting. Thinking. Self-flagellating.

Only when my legs started to go numb from the unyielding bench did I make my way back into the Sanctuary to wander around. I ran my hands down the wooden pew, the warm curves felt comforting and familiar.

Bang!

The side door to the Sanctuary opened and I turned with a gasp to see Pastor John walking in quickly towards the pulpit; he didn’t see me. He reached and grabbed what appeared to be some forgotten notes and turned to see me staring from the back of the church like a deer in the headlights. Again, he didn’t smile at me like he did most of the congregation.

“Miss Covington,” his deep voice rumbled as he sauntered towards me. Goosebumps rose on my arms at the utterance of my name. “The service is over. Shouldn’t you be in Sunday school?”

I stared for a moment, not sure what to say. “I didn’t really feel like going to Sunday school today,” I said looking down at my feet as I shuffled them. When I looked up Pastor John was only a few feet away.

He glared down at me, “You know the Sabbath is a sacred time reserved for the Lord. No time for idle wandering. I know your parents taught you better, plus you’ve been at this church for 19 years, have you not?” He was just inches from me now. I stared up at his imposing frame, masculine scent overtaking me. He placed a large warm hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently and I couldn’t help the shiver that overtook my body. My eyes involuntarily drifted closed.

He noticed my reaction.

“You know the Lord would want me to punish you for this transgression,” his voice had lowered to a rumble.

My eyes snapped to his face, just in time to see him begin to unbutton his sleeves in order to roll them to his elbows.

“Yes sir,” I had never been so sure of anything.

His reaction was palpable: a mask of dominance covered his normally pleasant, friendly features as he cocked his head to one side to assess my womanly body covered in my austere Sunday best.

He moved his mouth inches from my ear, “Bend over,” he commanded almost inaudibly.

The pew creaked as I obeyed immediately, drawn instantly by his commanding tone. Bent at the waist, hand gripping the back of the pew, I felt my dress being lifted slowly to reveal my stark white panties. My skin buzzed and hummed as my entire ass was revealed.

A strong hand pressed between my shoulder blades, causing my ass to rise even higher and my lips to spread ever so slightly…

Pastor John lifted a hand and smarted it across my backside with a loud smack that echoed through the empty sanctuary. I think he liked the sound because he Kadıköy Eve Gelen Escort did it again and again until he had thoroughly blistered each cheek. I kept as quiet as I could for Pastor, but I couldn’t stop the wetness soaking my panties.

I looked back when he slowed and I could hear him breathing heavier. He looked at me and, for the first time, ran a hand over in between my cheeks to the white cotton soaked in my shameful secret.

The Pastor spoke, his voice much more gravely, “Well well, Miss Covington. Lust is a deadly sin that will land you in the very pit of hell. We must purge you of these desires, don’t you agree?” He stroked the wet spot on my panties as he spoke and I feared my legs would fail me.

“Yes sir. Please help me sir. My thoughts have been so…” I trailed off, lip trembling.

“So what, Miss Covington?”

“Sinful…”

He shifted were he stood, appearing to adjust something in his pants. “And are you having these thoughts during the service?” he said as he slid a hand under my panties, sliding one single finger up and down my soaking slit.

I bit my lip to stifle a moan. Then his finger slid into me, just a few inches. This time I couldn’t help it and I moaned like a slut. “Hmmm?” he prodded as he probed.

“Only during your sermons, sir,” I got out. The response earned me several more slaps to the bottom.

“What a bad girl you’ve been Miss Covington. It seems you require a thorough lesson in the dangers of indulging in the desires of the flesh. Stand up and remove all of your clothes.”

I stood and began stripping while Pastor John took off with a ring of keys, locking both Sanctuary entrances. The click of the locks suddenly made everything real and nerves started to penetrate my fuzzy thoughts. Would he approve of my body? I knew my breasts and ass were larger than most of the girls at church and I had to severely limit my wardrobe so as not to get deemed the church slut.

When he made it back to me, I was in only my white panties and as I hooked my thumbs to shimmy them off as well, he stopped me, “Not those.”

Not one bit of humor reached his face. He stared at me openly and with the self-assurance that only a man of his power can. He looked hungry as he pulled his tie off.

Spinning me around, my hands were quickly and expertly lashed together behind my back; I loved the feel of the satin fabric that normally gave our dear Pastor such a polished appearance.

“On your knees. Now.”

I gingerly lowered myself to the floor, taking care with my new bindings. I could hardly breath with excitement.

Only taking a moment to admire my new position on the floor Pastor John opened his belt and fly with lightning speed and produced a huge, veiny cock that he let rest momentarily on my lips.

“Open up,” he commanded.

I opened my mouth, much like I had earlier to receive the body of Christ during communion, my little pink tongue protruding slightly over my full lip. We locked eyes as his dick grazed my lips and teeth.

“Wider, whore.”

I obliged, tongue slipping further out, desperate to touch the velvet head. If only I had known what was in store…

Pastor John jammed his cock all the way into the back of my throat. And I mean all. The. Way. Back. If I’d had use of my hands, I would have involuntarily reached out to push his hips away.

Before I could catch my first breath, he’d pumped his cock five times into the back of my throat. When he did eventually pull back, I gasped and a single tear slid from the corner of my eye and I licked my swollen lips. I think Pastor John liked what he saw.

Pressing down at the base with his thumb, Pastor John slapped my lips and cheeks with his thick cock and teased, “Miss Covington, who does this mouth belong to?” Before I could even get a word out he jammed his cock back into my mouth and throat fucked me until I was gagging and salivating all over his pole. He finally pulled Kadıköy Evi Olan Escort it out and I gasped again, he then pushed it into my cheek, stretching my mouth wide.

“You, sir?” I stammered when he popped it out again.

God, I wanted it to be his. All his. For his use only. Any time. Any place. Especially within these sacred walls where my thoughts ruminated on the impure.

Shit, maybe I was just a hell-bound whore…

He had been running his cock over my mouth and face and I decided to show him who my mouth really belonged to. I started lick and kissing his dick as sweetly and sensually as I could even with my lack of experience. He let go of his dick and tilted his head back, enjoying the reverent worship of his cock. I popped the head into my mouth and began swirling my tongue like I had his finger earlier that morning.

“No,” his voice rang out as he pulled the cock from my mouth.

“No, Miss Covington. Your body is a temple that belongs to God and God alone. It seems you still need to be taught,” he shoved his cock back into my throat and grunted, “about the dangers of passions of the flesh.”

As his dick continued assaulting my throat and mouth I twisted in my restraints, wanting nothing more than to just graze one finger over my pussy. I was so wet and aching I thought I might die…

“It appears I must fully mortify your flesh for you to understand.” With that Pastor John pulled me to a standing position and pushed me towards the pew. Again, my body was bent in half, except I could barely keep my balance without my hands.

Pastor John took mercy and untied my hands (I think he knew I would need them to hold myself upright during whatever he was about to do to me…). He then placed my hands on the back of the pew in front of me and instructed, “Don’t move your hands.”

“Yes sir,” I chimed, glad just to be free.

He then dropped to a crouching position behind me and I could feel his warm breath on my naked, soaking pussy. I shivered and moaned. Was he finally going to touch me where I so desperately needed it?

I was disappointed when I felt him tying my feet together instead. All I could think was, “Please touch me. Please touch me…” Once my ankles were lashed he began to rise back to a standing position, stopping with his mouth just inches from my entrance…

He blew lightly on my exposed, delicate flesh.

“Fuuuuck…” I moaned. His nose grazed my lips so lightly it could have been a butterfly’s wing.

“Please, Pastor John…” I whined. I think that was all he needed to hear because he immediately stood and rested his heavy cock on my ass cheek.

“Is this what you want?” he teased, stroking the head up and down my lips. “You need to be filed up like the whore you are?” I was completely non-verbal at this point, pressing my ass backwards, trying greedily to consume him.

He popped a few inches into my soaking entrance and my shout could be heard echoing off the pipe organ. I think Pastor liked the sound because he then treated me to the rest of his cock, which he buried into me like a battering ram.

As he pulled back, I could feel my pussy gripping his cock like a glove, soft pink lips dragging down the sides of his dick, trying desperately to keep him inside.

Pastor grunted, “Jesus,” thrust, “Christ,” thrust. He picked up the pace and began pounding into me. I could feel my orgasm right on the brink and my pussy somehow tightened even more.

The surprise in Pastor John’s voice almost sent me over the edge. “Is my little slut about to come?” he asked full of wonder.

“Yes sir!” I whined in a breathy shout. My breathing was now totally erratic as I felt my belly clinch and pleasure over take my entire body like a burning hot tidal wave.

“Come for me then,” he demanded. And I obeyed. I’m not sure if it was his name or a string of expletives I unleashed upon Pastor John during my orgasm, but I do know that either way he liked it. He pulled out, spun me around like a top, and pushed me back to my knees.

“Come to the Lord on your knees, Miss Covington,” he grunted as he jerked his pulsing cock into my mouth, “and he will bless you.” Ropes of warm cum poured into my mouth as the good Pastor emptied himself, purging us both of our sins.

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