User:Wewrotethiscity/Making Holy Water



The stained glass windows cast a jewel-like pattern on the stone floor my little elven companion swept with an endearing urgency. The day was over, the daily church services were done and the rituals performed, yet in this stillness of the sacred sanctuary, she worked to make our holy place ready for tomorrow. This was little Tysia's own ritual, a necessary part of maintaining the sanctitude of the church.

"Tysia, slow down now," I softly admonished, watching from where I sat in the pew, quietly reading scriptures while she went about her tasks.

She didn't stop her incessant sweeping, but paused like a little girl who had been caught by a disapproving parent. Her purple eyes twinkled when they looked at me; like that of her woodland kin, Tysia's expression could be so serious for one so young—perhaps it was my imagination. "Master!" she blurted out, "I want to finish my duties quickly, because you promised today would make holy water."

"I promised?" I chuckled as I got up from the pew and took the broom from her. She nodded eagerly. "I suppose I did, then. Stand still, will you?"

She obeyed, even going further and assuming the traditional position for blessing—hands folded before her, head bowed. Ah, so cute; why do I like this little lass so much? Despite being a man of the cloth, it was her every action that brought out my... mischievous nature. When I'm alone with her, I tend to get a bit sacrilegious. And she's none the wiser.

"Master, if we're making holy water, shouldn't we go to the master's r—ahh!" She let out an innocent squeal of surprise, looking down at my hands reaching around from behind to cup her breasts. I quickly found her nipples and, with my fingertips, teased them into rigid points.

Her breathing was gradually becoming heavier; but the innocent altar girl she was, she tried her best to stay composed. In-between small gasps and pleasured whimpers, she looked like a plaintive child. "I-If I make holy water here, it'll spill on the floor," she said hoarsely, trying to reason with me while she squirmed at my touch—I didn't relent.

I gave her no response, instead intensifying my attention on the two peaks in front of me. She fought to keep herself still; and made progress for a little while until her body began to overcome its self-control. Her breathing became ragged, as her neck reddened. I continued to play with her nipples, causing her to moan pitifully. I pressed my thumbs over her hard buds, eliciting another gasp from her.

"You like this?" I whispered in her ear, causing her to jolt in shock. "Tell me."

"Yes," she managed through gritted teeth—but only because I'd loosened my grip, allowing her some relief. Her breath came faster now; a mixture of frustration and joy at being teased by one she had trusted so completely, it was a struggle not to ravage her right there on the stone floor.

"That's sinful, you know that, don't you?" I asked, flicking the pink tips with my fingers, still pinching them at the same time.

She gasped, "Y-yes, I do. I'm sorry, I..."

"The only purpose of this is to make holy water. Describe to me how your body reacts to the sensations; show me how it pleases you." I said sternly, Driving Tysia deeper into her current state with my ministrations. Oh, this is simply delicious, isn't it? The elven altar girl writhing below my hand like a cat in heat, showing her subservience to her master.

"I-I'm ashamed—shamed—" she stuttered, trying to regain some sense of composure as I tugged at her nipples again, making her redder than before; a bit of drool escaped her parted lips and crept down her chin. She looked away for a moment, returning to find me looking down at her from behind, with an almost predatory glint in my eye. "But I feel weird," she whispered, "it feels like my—my nethers are aching, my whole body needs something, someone. Master? Please?"

Finally, I released her nipples, which from under her attire had been standing at full attention since their recent stimulation. I inspected her over like an artist taking the finishing touch on a portrait: she trembled, legs fidgeting restlessly; her eyelids fluttered; her breathing labored heavily—even so, she was still shy about letting me see her desire. Did she not know what affect her innocent little body was having on me? How was I ever supposed to remain chaste when her fair face lay under my gaze like a sinful temptation?

I assumed a tone not unlike that of the church father's in his sermon, speaking with pompous solemnity, "Tysia, your lusts must be rooted out. I fear you may need a soul cleansing, if making holy water here has stirred such unrepentant desires."

"S-soul cleansing?" she stammered; and then there came a noticeable twitch between her thighs—her embarrassment finally melted away as she realized my true intent. Her breathing began to quicken; her voice breathless with desire. "Master, what must we do? You must save me from myself, tell me what to do! Master, master!" she hugged me tightly, throwing her arms around my neck. And though the gesture was one of sincerity, when we connected I felt her hips grind against mine in wanton abandon. "I can't wait any longer, please—please, I want to remain pure, only it's too wicked, I'm trying to resist, but you're too good, please, please—"

I grunted as her humping began; the petite altar girl was doing naughty things with her pelvis like no one else I'd met. She had no idea about "sex" or even why she felt these things, so her movements were completely instinctual. As was my response, my cock growing harder than granite at the sight. A fact made all the more obvious by the wet, sticky spot on her robes, wafting a distinct musky scent into the air; so sweet and enticing—the musk of Tysia's arousal.

Finally, I decided to fulfill her request: "I will cleanse your soul, worry not. Remove your underwear."

Her eyes widened like saucers when she heard the command, but still she didn't hesitate. She fished with both hands until they caught a side each of the white lacy undergarment under her robes; and shimmied them down her pale legs. When they appeared from underneath the robes, I noted how goopy and moist they were—my little Tysia was truly ready to be cleansed.

Now that it was time to act, I fell silent again, my effort put into positioning her, pulling up her robes, bending her over a small kneeling stool to bare her rear. It was mere moments before she was perfectly presented; like a gift to be unwrapped: the buttocks exposed, rounded and high; pink folds of pussy lips visible for my perusal as a line of moisture trickled from her nether region.

Her entire body was trembling now, but her expression was one of utter devotion—as if she had been waiting all her life to see this very moment happen. I couldn't see her face, but her words conveyed what she felt. "Save me from myself, master. Please, save me from myself."

I obliged, pressing my cock against the opening of her vagina; her lips were soaked with fluid, gliding easily over me like warm slime, teasing me with their sheer suppleness. In this moment, I thought to myself: I may have tricked this elf altar girl into sex, but the devil had made temptation so attractive—in fact, he'd led her towards me. It was me who encouraged her to sin, and not the other way around.

She continued to beg, but I cut her off with a giant thrust; breaking through the wet barrier like a knife into butter. There came an audible squeal of pure ecstasy at the sensation, before she bit her lip and quieted her voice, which from under my hand was coming out breathy and cooing in rapture. I gave her a few moments to recuperate, letting the thoughts of this act wash over her as she moaned in bliss—then began to rock her hips back and forth, building speed until we were fucking with a vengeance.

Her body felt divine, like an instrument crafted by gods; made to pleasure only me. The altar girl obscenely purred as my member bathed the entirety of her nether regions in friction, rubbing against sensitive spots of her innermost being—the sounds coming from her mouth resembled those of the bestial girls at the tavern on busy nights when the weather was warm. She howled as the "soul cleansing" truly began.

In the holiest place in town, we desecrated the sanctity of the church like never before; with the wet slaps of flesh to match our cries, and our blood pumping into the fabric of our garments—the earthy smell of lust permeating the air. "Holy water" or no, there was nothing pure about what was happening here. Just the raw, undilute essence of carnal desire.

Tysia cried out again, her body writhing on top of mine, spasming so hard it knocked me back and almost sent us both off balance. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as I felt her vaginal walls tense up around my cock; squeezing me like a vice. There was no escape, and a building climax raged from within—it wasn't enough that this elf wanted to be cleansed of her desires—now she wanted to drown me in them. Fine, if that's what she wanted.

I would've liked to hold out longer, but when you get caught in a mire of ecstasy you have no choice but to ride the waves for as long as they last; especially when they're washing over you like a waterfall. I prepared for one last thrust—a final orgasmic rampage to ensure this little fuckhole would be forever marked by my seed. My aim was true, and I plunged right as my balls let loose their last drop of seed—making contact with the deepest, most intimate part of her: Tysia's womb; and filling it to capacity with my cum.

As rope after rope of my seed gushed from my body, she screamed in agony, but not because of the pain of entry. No, Tysia's shriek was a product of another kind of pain—pure pleasure at being filled with my seed. I gave a few more moments, the last of my fluids leaving their mark on her womb, before finally withdrawing myself from Tysia's depths, nearly collapsing under the weight of our combined orgasms, panting heavily, barely able to support myself.

As my consciousness slowly returned to normal I looked down Tysia, seeing her hairless pussy glistening with a mixture of sweat and my cum; her lower lips swollen and bruised. For the first time in what felt like an eternity—though in reality it was just a few minutes—I made eye contact with her angelic face, which even now showed no sign of the ecstasy she had just gone through. Instead, her expression was blank, lacking all emotion—an empty void that belonged only to me.

I shuddered at the sight, the chill in the air adding to my cold sweat, realizing: I'd bestowed upon Tysia a new vocation; a new role in life, and that is what she was now: "The Sinner's Devotee."