33. Res
33
Res
B eing back at Loving Eden after so long has done something to me. It’s different than the limited contact I have with them through One Humanity’s events.
Seeing so many faces I haven’t seen in a decade. Talking to these people. People who ultimately think I just threw a huge temper tantrum over something that was my fault and that I should have gotten over myself, taken my punishment, and got back in line instead of throwing away my salvation over one incident.
There’s Mrs. Trina-Mae, who I worked with in the kitchen for dinner fundraisers and other church events. Her husband was abusive, but she always managed to keep a smile on her face and welcomed me when I was bored and needed something to do as a preteen. Her husband died, and she’s married to a new man. Not a member of Loving Eden, but he appears to adore her and treat her right in a way her last husband didn’t.
Her daughter, Gretta who was my age, got married a year or so after I left, has four kids with her husband now, and is a teacher. Then there’s Malcolm, who I used to work alongside in the finance department. He’s practically an apprentice to the current Deacon of Finance and married now too. To the same girl I got into a fight with over calling our pregnant peer a whore. Sarah T. We both had a good laugh over the incident when I saw her earlier, pushing a stroller with her three-year-old daughter and newborn.
It went like this all night. A bunch of old faces along with some new ones and seeing where they are now compared to ten years ago when I left. Seeing them moving on in life. Some married. Some with kids. Some having traveled all over the world. All while still being at Loving Eden. All while it seems like I’m stuck in the same place I was when I left a decade ago.
I know it’s my old programming talking. The programming of Loving Eden and its conservative values. I know I can’t compare my life to my peers who stayed at Loving Eden because we have different definitions of progress and accomplishment.
Still, it all makes me feel so vulnerable. So… unsure. Makes a voice in the back of my head wonder if I made the right choice despite knowing that I did. Despite knowing that I wasn’t being dramatic or throwing a tantrum by standing up for myself and refusing to take their treatment.
It was a relief when I finally ran into Shelly, and she dragged me around to stuff myself on drinks and food. It was even more of a relief when Jaxson showed up. When he grabbed my hand and insisted I give him a tour. When he listened to me ramble about all the things, good and bad that happened here. That shaped me. That reminded me why I left in the first place. I… I needed that. Even if he didn’t know it .
My emotional rawness and distraction tonight is the excuse I allow myself for why I didn’t sense that he might have had other motives for coming here tonight besides me asking. That I didn’t suspect he was up to something as soon as he asked me to show him the place I grew up.
“We’re going to make an offering together,” he says to me after forcing a kiss on me in the chapel. Under the very altar where I told my church congregation to fuck themselves before stomping out.
Jaxson’s hard cock digging into me tells me exactly what he plans to offer under this altar tonight. At least, that’s what he calls it. What it really would be is a desecration.
“Jaxson. No. We—” I shake my head. There is no we about this. “You can’t. Not here.”
“Why not?”
“It’s… Someone might come in. People come and pray to this altar all night on Christmas Eve,” I argue despite the fact that this is the same man who finger fucked me in the back of an open truck with people milling around it.
“They’ll just have to wait until we’re done,” he says, backing me into the marble table.
“Jaxson,” I begin to protest, but is there really any use?
He picked this time on purpose. When everyone would be in the sanctuary, where even if there was someone nearby to hear what was happening, the noise of the choir on the speakers in the halls would drown it out. Besides, he’s never been afraid to take what he wanted from me by force. What would be different now? And besides that… I can’t say… I can’t say that part of me doesn’t want this. That part of me wants to yell, “yes, yes, yes.” Just not all of me. And that’s enough for me to open my mouth to keep protesting.
“I—”
Jaxson covers my mouth with his again, swallowing any words of protests as he kisses me again. And despite my uncertainty, despite wanting to say yes but also wanting to say no, my body agrees with the part of me that wants to say yes and instantly lights with the fire of arousal and desire.
I don’t understand why. After everything Jaxson has done to me, I’d have thought that some psychological reaction would have shut that kind of reaction down by now. Would have recognized any advances from Jaxson as danger. As life-threatening. But apparently the primal biological mechanisms that tell me Jaxson is a big strong man who can make big strong babies with me and protect them override and suppress the memories of the psychological terror he's put me through.
He wrenches my head back and away from his lips, kissing down my neck until it meets the collar of my jacket.
“A jacket and a sweater,” he teases as he grabs the hem of my sweater and the edges of my jacket. “It’s not even that cold out.”
“We southerners aren’t as coldblooded as you northern folk. Besides, you wouldn’t last one summer in Georgia without getting a heatstroke, I bet,” I say, trying not to sound as terrified as I am while he lifts the items over my head and drops them on the floor.
“Good thing it’s not summer. And good thing what I’m about to do to you will keep you warm,” he says as he gets rid of my undershirt next .
My body shakes with nerves as I keep looking at the door, and I hear the sounds of the choir drifting from the hall through the speakers and into the room.
By the time I’m present again, Jaxson is working on getting my bra off, and I find the ability to protest again.
“Jaxson. This is wrong. We can’t…”
“Why can’t we?” he ask, throwing my bra on the floor.
“Because,” I manage to say while fighting down my blush as Jaxson takes his time to gaze at my naked torso, despite the fact that he’s seen me naked before. Being out in the open like this, where anyone can come in and see, makes me feel so much more exposed. “Because it’s an altar. This isn’t an offering. This is a desecration.”
Jaxson ignores me, as he undoes my jeans and slides them and my panties down my legs. He only pauses to remove the ankle boots and socks I chose for the evening before getting rid of the remainder of my clothes, leaving me completely naked before him under the statute of the crucified Jesus’s gaze.
“Jaxson,” I say, trying to find some place to look that isn’t the statute above me or him.
Jaxson laughs, putting his hand in my hair and craning my head back to look at him.
“You only think this is wrong because someone told you that this altar made this place consecrated grounds. Because a bunch of people gathered under a statute, probably made through slave labor overseas, and prayed and claimed it to be sacred because someone told them it was, so they’d drop a few dollars in a locked box to put them in the black for the year. There’s nothing sacred about this altar. If there is, what better offering is there than the pleasure I’m about to give a beautiful goddess like yourself,” he says to me.
He gives me an open-mouthed kiss. When he pulls away, a trail of spit stretches between us. He slurps it back up into his mouth before saying, “And so what if it is wrong? They were going to make you wrongly admit to a sin you didn’t commit. So I’m sure no one would mind one more wrong thing.”
I did commit the sin they accused me of, though, regardless of whether or not I think it was a sin or not. Before I can point that out though, Jaxson put his hands behind my knees, pushes them to my chest and spreads my legs, gazing down at my glistening cunt. He reaches down and spreads my pussy lips, and I feel myself heat up even more in embarrassment. The only thing that keeps me from wanting the ground to open and swallow me is that if someone walks in, Jaxson will just torture them to silence or kill them.
As though knowing what I was about to say, though, Jaxson says, “The only sin you committed, was not knowing that I was on my way to be your savior and that you should save this pretty glistening cunt of yours for me. But you can’t be blamed for that. You, Snow White, are sinless. Anyone that tries to tell you otherwise is insignificant, and the people of Loving Eden should be glad that you’re about to bless their altar more than a hundred years of hallelujah racket ever did.”
Jaxson removes his hand from my pussy lips, returning it to keep my other knee pushed back and my legs spread before diving his head between my legs .
He’s eaten my cunt before. The last time. When a man died every time I had an orgasm. But by that time, I couldn’t feel it. Not really. Back then, everything was pain and pleasure and a million other sensations from a thousand different things that I felt numb and my body just reacted as it was biologically made to. I couldn’t focus on what Jaxson was actually doing with his tongue. Whether it was really good or not.
Now, I can confidently say he knows what he’s doing with his tongue.
My body immediately quivers with pleasure when I feel the first licks of his tongue on my cunt. Moans build up in my chest that I refuse to let escape, fearing someone might hear. It’s both an irrational and rational fear. Irrational because there’s no way someone can hear me over the sound of the music over the speakers. Rational because anyone could wander past the chapel doors, closed as they are and hear and decide to come in and—
My anxiety of possibly getting caught surfs away on a wave of pleasure that thrums through me. Suddenly I’m unable to keep the moans in.
“Jaxson,” I moan. “Oh. Oh. Please. Don’t—” A moan chokes off the word. Then, “Don’t stop. Please,” I beg.
The part of me that wants this completely drowns out the small part of me that doesn’t. The part that still wants to resist against Jaxson’s conditioning. But I’m helpless against it. I’m helpless to stop it. I’m helpless to restrain myself. No when it’s so good. Not when I need it so badly tonight.
Jaxson stops licking and begins to suck as hard as he can. Suck like my favorite clit suction toy.
“Jaxson. I’m—”
Before I can come, the sucking stops as Jaxson takes his mouth off my cunt. He lifts his head from between my legs and kisses back up my body, ignoring my pitiful whines of disappointment.
“You asshole,” I manage breathily.
Jaxson chuckles and kisses my lips. “You need to learn patience, Snow White. Don’t worry. You’re going to come. It’s just going to be on my cock tonight.”
My breath hitches in surprise as Jaxson backs away from me and begins to shamelessly strip. My heartbeat stutters in my chest. Not only has he never fucked me with his cock before, but I’ve also never seen him completely naked.
Jaxson’s body is a sight to behold. Not that I ever thought it wouldn’t be seeing as the Sovereignty puts so much emphasis on living up to a very particular standard of physical maintenance. It’s strict, unattainable and unrealistic for most, but if anyone could manage to find a way to live up to it, Jaxson could. The man who prides himself on his control, discipline, and will to do whatever it takes within his power to attain his goals. His body is a muscular and lean machine. Its only limits are the limits that Jaxson allows himself to have. That is to say he has none.
It's only his smirk that makes me realize that I’m ogling him, and also reminds me that we’re both naked in a chapel, under an altar where he’s about to fuck me .
I’m tense as he settles between my legs. As he puts my legs over his shoulders. As he lines his huge cock up with my cunt. The cock I could barely get my hand around on Halloween.
I can’t help looking toward the door, making sure no one has accidently come upon us. To see me spread and exposed with Jaxson inching his cock into me. Shit. What if my mother comes looking for me if she searches the balcony, doesn’t see me, and doesn’t assume—
Jaxson wrenches my head back by my hair.
“Eyes on me, Snow White,” he says. “Look at me while I put my cock in you.”
He continues to inch his cock in me, and I squirm because of his intense gaze. Because of the uncomfortable stretch of him entering me. My breaths grow shallow. My toes curl. My hands search for purpose. My nerves tingle. Until he’s fully sheathed in me, pulls out and slams back in.
I mewl, trying and failing to throw my head back because of Jaxson’s grip on my hair as he forces me to keep my eyes on him. As he takes in every minute detail of my expression while I moan, whine, and whimper with every thrust. I’m growing hot. With arousal. With desire. With embarrassment that Jaxson is forcing me to let him see me like this and that I can’t ignore it. But I can’t be concerned about any of it. I’m only concerned with every thrust of his cock creating friction and heat against my sensitive walls. The way I feel his cock in my stomach. In my mouth. On my legs. My arms. My breasts. My entire body .
“Jaxson. Please. I—”
Pleasure chokes my words, but for once that’s okay. I’m not trying to ask him to stop.
I hold myself up with one hand on the altar under me and brace myself on the statute of the crucifixion behind me. Despite Jaxson still holding my head in place, the way he has me folded in half lets me get an obscene view of his cock gliding in and out of me. Of the wet sticky mess we’ve already made on the marble altar table. Our bodies meeting together as one to create something divine. A transcendent experience. But somehow, also a defilement.
“Fuck,” I squeal as the pressure of an impending orgasm builds in me. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Jaxson slows his pace some, though his thrusts are no less relentless as he slams into me so hard I hit the statue behind me.
“That’s right,” Jaxson says to me, still forcing me to look at him. “Curse the heavens for allowing the judgment of you that took place here. Curse that god to his face. Curse the god who was willing to make an example of his only son. Like your parents, your family, your friends were willing to make an example out of one of Loving Eden’s daughters.”
If my entire body weren’t seizing, if my mind weren’t singularly focused on the need to come, I’d be able to spit out a witty comeback about it being unbecoming of a woman to use vulgar and obscene language. But there’s nothing that came be more vulgar or obscene than Jaxson fucking me under a religious altar.
Something is building up in my chest, begging for release from my throat. But it’s also suppressed as the coil of pressure and tension that is my orgasm building reaches its peak and steals my voice and breath away. Like the force that felt like it was pressing against my chest a decade ago, when I stood right here to be judged and express regret for my sins. That feeling of something reaching into my chest and holding my lungs before I finally exploded.
It’s just as overwhelming and all-consuming a feeling then as it is now with Jaxson trying to coax my release from me. Trying to hold it back because my indoctrination tells me that what I feel is wrong. Trying to bury the instincts screaming at me to let it out. Consequences be damned.
The pressure begins to leak out of my mouth in choked off whimpers. Begins to leak from my cunt with slick fluid that coats Jaxson’s cock even more and makes him fucking me all the more sweeter.
“Don’t hold back, Snow White. Curse the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and present to them your offering.”
I damn the consequences.
My orgasm explodes in me. Squirts out of me, making even more of a mess of our bodies and the altar. I pitch my head backward and see white as I let out a scream in time with the crescendo of the choir I hear as white noise while the clock strikes midnight on Christmas.
As usual, Jaxson doesn’t stop. He just fucks me. Harder and harder until another orgasmic wave ripples through me. He grunts loudly in my ear, stiffens against me, and unloads hot come into me with his own orgasm.
Even Jaxson has to take a moment to recover from the exertion of our union. But he still recovers faster than I do, giving me one final kiss and then pulling his clothes back on. Somehow, he manages to not look like he just got through having sex by the time he pulls his clothes on. I, on the other hand, do look like I was just fucked. My legs are trembling. My thighs are wet and sticky with come and fluid. I’m sweaty. My hair is a mess, and as I struggle to pull up jeans over sticky thighs, I curse that I didn’t decide to wear a dress tonight.
I wrap my jacket around my waist to hide the stain of fluid on the inside of my jeans. Gather my hair and braid it to hide how mused it is. Wipe my mouth on my sleeve. I feel like it’s still obvious what we did, but I have no time to fix that because I can hear the halls filling as the sanctuary lets out.
Jaxson grabs my hand to pull me outside.
“We’re just going to leave it… like that,” I say referring to the mess we left on the altar.
Jaxson chuckles as he says, “That’s what you do with an offering. Isn’t it?”
That’s not the only thing we’d be leaving. The smell of us permeates the air. Not just the sex. But his smell of spicy, smoked cinnamon. My smell of cherry and rain, a smell I hadn’t ever been able to pick out from myself even when past lovers pointed it out, but that I can smell now because it’s separate from Jaxson’s scent. Anyone intimately familiar with us would know we were here as soon as they walked in.
Somehow, we get out of Loving Eden with everyone being none the wiser about the sacrilege Jaxson and I just committed. And if they aren’t, they’re too polite to say anything about it. We even manage to get past my mother again, along with my father, and brother, who are standing next to her. My brother’s wife, Abigail, too, is present, looking as waif as ever. Seeing her with him is enough for the familiar irritation I always have at my brother to rear its head, but Jaxson pulls me away before I can unleash it.
When we’re back in the parking lot, rather than walking me to my car, Jaxson pulls me in the direction I assume is his own car.
“Jaxson. I can walk to my car. You don’t have to drive me to it. It’s probably closer than yours,” I say.
He laughs, pulling my front flush against his own. “You don’t think I’m letting you go home tonight, do you, Snow White?”
I’ve never blushed so much until I met Jaxson. I swear.
“You’re coming home with me tonight,” he continues.
I scowl. “Just because you fucked me doesn’t mean you own me now.”
“I owned you before that, Snow White. Now come, so we can get home, and I can get you out those clothes and my cock in you again.”