4. Lustful Comm
Chapter four
Lustful Communion
Cassian
That night. . .in my dream. . .I stood in the cathedral.
And Celeste was before me at the heart of the sanctuary—a seductive angel draped in sinful desire.
The stained glass glowed like fire. Shards of red and gold cast flickered shadows across the cathedral walls and caressed her brown skin.
Her dress was the deep crimson of freshly spilled communion wine and it clung to every curve as if it had been sculpted onto her. The fabric shimmered under the holy light, dipping daringly to reveal her lush cleavage, which was two ripe forbidden fruits peeking out…beckoning me to take a bite.
As Celeste approached, the murmur of the congregation hummed like a distant choir.
"Come to me.” I held the wafer between my fingers—the body of Christ.
“Yes, Father.” Celeste stopped in front of me and lifted her gaze to meet mine.
There was no pretense of piety between us.
No false veneer of sanctity.
It was only the raw, unspoken truths of flesh and want.
"Receive this," My voice grew husky with lust. "The body of Christ, which was broken for you."
She parted her lips and my soul heated.
With deliberate slowness, I placed the wafer not on her tongue, but brushed it against her lips, an invitation she accepted with a breathless sigh.
The communion was a sacred act transformed into an erotic covenant, the thin wafer dissolving between our mingled breaths.
Her lips closed over my fingers, lingering just a moment too long, the faintest touch sending a surge of more heat through my body—a holy fire that threatened to consume what little restraint I had left.
The congregation was already a sea of shadows, but now it faded into nothingness.
I picked up the gold chalice. Its surface was encrusted with rubies, sapphires, and emeralds that caught the flickering light like fire trapped in stone.
Celeste's breathing quickened.
I held her gaze as I brought the chalice to her lips and began to tilt it toward her.
Now my voice was thick with desire. “This. . .is the blood of Christ.”
The red wine glistened in the gold cup.
“This blood was shed for you.” I licked my lips. “Drink, Celeste, and let it fill you—not with redemption, but with the truth of what you are to me.”
She trembled as I further raised the chalice to her lips.
The rim touched her mouth and she eagerly sipped.
While a good bit journeyed down her throat, a lot of the rich red wine slipped past her lips and dripped down her chin, trailing along her neck like a lover’s caress before disappearing into the valley of her cleavage.
I licked my lips again.
The sight was vivid, obscene, and unraveled the last thread of my restraint.
A murmur rose from the shadowed congregation. It was a wave of whispers that grew louder and louder as the wine continued to spill, soaking into the forbidden curves of her body.
Wetting her dress.
My hand shook and I dropped the chalice.
The golden cup hit the marble floor with a resounding clang.
I couldn’t stop myself. “God, help me.”
I dove forward and my lips crashed against her brown skin. My tongue traced the path of red wine as it pooled between her breasts.
Dark groans left me.
The taste of her, mixed with the sweetness of the communion wine, was intoxicating.
It was salvation and damnation.
The shadowed congregation’s whispers erupted into gasps and cries, and the organist began to play a haunting melody.
Was it a hymn of judgment?
Or was it a symphony of liberation?
The organ notes swelled, chasing the reverberation of our sacrilege.
In fact, that melody poured over us and around us, weaving itself into a cloak of sinful but irrefutable truth.
"Celeste." I groaned and began to slip my hands over her curves with a newfound recklessness while my tongue claimed every drop of wine.
She grabbed at my hair, pulling me closer.
With every breath she took, her chest rose against my mouth.
The embers of the holy fire within me were now a raging devilish inferno, consuming all pretense of piety.
I was no longer a servant of God but a slave to my carnal desires for Celeste.
I reveled in this newfound freedom—the shackles of my religious devotion shattered by the intoxicating allure of her body.
Fast, I shoved the front of her dress down and those voluptuous breasts spilled out.
They were ripe and succulent, the nipples erect and eager for my mouth.
Starved, I cupped them both, feeling the weight of her desires against my palms, reveling in the warmth that radiated from her skin.
She let out a soft hiss of pleasure as I took one into my mouth, sucking and nipping at her.
The organ notes picked up their pace. Each note resonated with my thrumming pulse.
She arched into me. “Fuck me, Father. Please.”
That filthy plea rose in the cathedral, shuddering against the stained glass.
The blasphemy of it all sent shivers down my spine, electrifying every nerve in my body.
"Celeste." I growled.
The organ notes crescendoed in response, the melody becoming a frantic, pulsating rhythm that sent shockwaves through our bodies.
She gasped as I quickly tore off her dress, lifted her onto the altar, and spread her body out like an offering to God.
Her dress pooled on the floor.
Fast, I undid my cassock with trembling fingers and freed myself of the gold and black cloth.
It fell to the floor.
When we were fully naked and exposed under the watchful gaze of the condemning saints on the stained-glass windows, I felt no shame.
Because now I knew that instead of worshiping God. . .I would now, worship her.
"Celeste…" I murmured against her skin.
She writhed beneath me, deliciously bare and vulnerable on the cold stone altar.
Her breath hitched as I traced patterns over her curves with my fingers—a tribute to this newfound goddess. She was divine in every sense—her body an opulent temple that begged for exploration.
The organ notes carried our sins.
With a sigh, her fingers tangled in my hair, guiding me down to her pussy.
There, I took my time tasting her, as I used to savor communion wine.
The organ roared louder.
I found myself lost in her—my tongue exploring every inch of her sacred space.
That wet silky pussy.
Her soft moans mingled with the organ playing.
Her legs quivered around me as our bodies moved together on the holy altar.
“Mmmm.” I withdrew from her pussy and rested my forehead against her thigh. “Licking you has been more exhilarating than. . .the moment I gave my life to Christ.”
The taste of her still lingered on my tongue, sweet and sinful.
I breathed in deeply, savoring the scent of her arousal.
“I must have more.” Moving swiftly, I climbed over her body, positioning myself above Celeste.
Then, I locked my eyes onto hers, as if asking for permission to commit this final act of blasphemy.
Her lips curled into a devilish smile.
“Amen.” With one slow thrust, I entered her. The rush of heat enveloped me.
Her pussy was so tight, so warm.
I had never experienced anything like this in my life.
So blown away, I bit my lip as she gasped beneath me and widened her eyes.
“Oh, Father!” She dug her fingers into the muscles of my back, holding onto me as if her life depended on it.
The organ continued its symphony, setting the pace for our movements, slow and possessive.
On the altar, I thrust into her slipping my hard cock in and out of that wet pussy.
Sweat trickled down my brow, but I paid it no mind, lost in the rhythm of our bodies moving in perfect harmony.
"Celeste." Her name was a prayer on my lips, she responded by wrapping her legs tighter around my hips and meeting my thrusts.
Then, a scream pierced through the haze of lust, sharp and slicing like a whip cracking in the air.
“Satan!”
I froze mid-thrust.
The voice was shrill, venomous, and all too familiar. “Satan himself!”
I looked up.
Sister Margaretta stormed forward, and her habit flared like the wings of a vengeful angel.
Her face twisted in fury.
In her hand, a leather whip gleamed under the fractured light of the stained glass.
The sight of it sent a chill through me.
“You defile this altar, this sacred space!” Her voice rose. “You are no servant of God! You are the serpent, the deceiver, the great tempter!”
“No. No.” I pulled out of Celeste and scrambled back, suddenly aware of my nakedness, and the weight of my sin crashing down on me. “I am holy.”
Celeste remained sprawled on the altar with her chest heaving and her lips swollen and glistening from our shared blasphemy.
“You dare to desecrate the house of the Lord?” Sister Margaretta’s voice cracked with rage as she raised the whip. “You are not a man of God, Cassian! You are an abomination, a vessel for sin! A destroyer of souls!”
"No!”
She lashed out with the whip, hitting the tip of my cock.
Pain exploded within me.
And cum shot out too, spilling onto the altar.
Onto Celeste.
Onto even Sister Margaretta’s face.
“The wages of sin is death!” She wiped away some of the cum that had splattered on her face. “You have betrayed Him! You have betrayed us all!”
The whip cracked against my cock again.
More cum shot out, the horrendous sting made my knees buckle.
“Repent!” she screamed, advancing on me. “Repent and beg for mercy, for you are damned, Cassian! Damned!”
"I will! I will!”
“Repent!”
I screamed. “I will!!”
And then I woke up.
No!!!!