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The 'sacramental oil' scene from Sierra Simone's Preist novel.
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Details
The 'sacramental oil' scene from Sierra Simone's Preist novel.
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The 'sacramental oil' scene from Sierra Simone's Preist novel.
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People might judge me for the way that my breathing spread up, for the way that I palmed myself through my slacks, but the image of Poppy on her knees, eyes closed and mind filled with me, all while her fingers played with that beautiful cunt, was too much to resist. Poppy, I said, unbuckling my belt, tell me more. I knew she could hear the belt, I knew she could hear the zipper. Her breath shuddered in and shuddered out. I used one hand to touch my breast, she whispered, and the other to work my clit. I wanted your dick so much. Tyler, it was all I could think about, how it stretches me, how you make it hit that perfect spot every time. Still leaning back, I freed my cock from my boxer briefs and gripped it, moving my hand slowly up and down. What were you thinking about when you came? I asked. God, I wanted it to be dirty. I wanted it to be so fucking dirty. Poppy didn't disappoint. I thought about you taking my ass while you fingered me, about you pulling out to cum all over my back. Shit, I was hard before, but now, now I was practically concrete. Who was I kidding with this? I needed to fuck her again, and I was going to do it right here in the church in the middle of the day. My office, I said through gritted teeth. No. She scooted out of the booth that I followed, tucking myself in but not bothering to zip up. As soon as we were in the office, I shut the locked door and we rounded on her at the same time she rounded on me. We came together like two storm clouds in a crash of separate beings that immediately became one entity. We were hands and lips and teeth. We were nips and kisses and moans, and I guided her backwards, meaning to put her over my desk, but our legs tangled and we fell to the floor, my arms a cage around her. Are you okay? I asked, worried. Yes, she said impatiently, grabbing my collar to yank me back down to her lips. Her kisses drove me into a frenzy, the softness of her mouth echoing the silken heat below her skirt. I have to fuck you, I managed between kisses. It was a statement of fact, a warning. I slipped my hand down and found that once again, she was without underwear. Filthy, I said. Fucking filthy. She twisted under my touch, tilting her hips up to grab my fingers better access, and I kissed her neck as I jabbed two fingers inside her cunt. She was so wet already, and my rough treatment of her only seemed to arouse her more because her hands fisted in my shirt and she panted as I continued my assault. Awful words coming out of my mouth, cock tease, slut, you know you want it, you know you want it. She moaned, my words teasing her more than my fingers ever could, and part of me was ashamed at how much it aroused me to say these degrading things to her, and another part of me was telling that part to shut the fuck up and do it already. I sealed my mouth over hers as I yanked my boxers down far enough to free my cock, and then I mindlessly shoved my hips forward, burying myself in one rough stroke. She wrapped her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck, her scorching mouth everywhere, and it was like holding a live wire, the way that she moved and squirmed under me as I rammed into her, letting every doubt and jealousy and fear possess me. I would fuck her until she felt like she was mine. I would fuck her until she couldn't walk away. I would fuck her until I couldn't walk away. Every thrust brought me closer and closer, but one thought wouldn't let me go, and I pressed my body into her and ground down against her clit, feeling her writhe and coil around me. She was close. Let me put it in your ass, Poppy, I said. I ran the tip of my nose along her jawline, making her shiver. I wanted to fuck you there. Oh God, she whispered. Yes, please. There was no time to think the logistics through, no time to even consider relocating to a more prepared place. I had something only a few steps away that would work, and I wasn't going to waste any time looking for anything else. I pulled out my cock so hard it hurt and stood. Stay, I ordered, and I tucked myself back inside my boxers to make the short walk into the embery in the back of the sanctuary, the small cabinet where we kept our sacred oils. My hands shook as I opened the door. These were the oils that had been blessed during Holy Week by my bishop, oils only used for sacraments like baptism and confirmation and the anointing of the sick. I selected a glass vial of oil, the oil of chrism, and went back to Poppy, studiously avoiding the crucifix and tabernacle with my eyes when I did. She'd stayed on the floor, her skirt still bunched up around her waist, her cheeks flushed. After I'd locked the door again, I stood over her and pulled at my collar, trying to take it off. She said no. Her pupils large and dark, leave it on. My dick surged. Dirty girl, you're gonna kill me, and I told her as I kneeled down and flipped her onto her stomach so that her delicious ass faced up at me so I could see the rest of her head and her arms if she needed. I unstoppered the vial and drizzled some of the oil on my fingertips, which then I used to paint a slick circle around the tight rosebud of her ass. She quivered under my caress, involuntarily tensing every time my touch grazed her there, but her pussy clenched too, and I could see how she was starting to press her hips into the floor, trying to alleviate some of the ache building in her clit. I added more oil to my fingers and started teasing and testing the rim, massaging her, loosening her. The smell of balsam, an ancient churchy smell, filled the room. Do you know what this is, Poppy? I asked. She shook her head against her arms. It's sacramental oil. It's used for baptisms, and ordinations. It's even used to anoint the walls of the church when it's built. I ran a hand down the smooth, firm slope of her back, feeling her sigh against my touch, and at that moment, sliding a finger inside, she gasped. I'm anointing you now, I informed her. I'm sanctifying you from the inside out. You feel that? That's my finger fucking your ass, and in just a minute, it'll be my cock. It'll be my cock consecrating you. No, don't touch yourself, sweetheart. We're going to get there together. I took her hand, which had been sliding underneath her stomach, and put it up, way up by her head, all while I kept working her ass with the oil in my finger. Her channel was so damn snug, and knowing my dick would take its place in a matter of moments was enough to make me into a wild man. I couldn't wait any longer. I poured a healthy amount of oil on my palm and then fisted my cock, the view in front of me and the old, slick, strong hand pushing me close to the edge. Tyler, Poppy said, looking back at me. I've done this before, but never with someone your size. She looked a little worried, but she was also still grinding herself against the floor, desperate to be fucked. I wanted to tell her I'd be gentle with her ass, but I also didn't want to make a promise I knew I couldn't keep, because fuck, I could barely hold it together just looking at it. Instead, I told her, you tell me when to stop, and I'll stop at that very instant, okay? She nodded and laid her head down, canting her hips up to meet me. I leaned down, one hand guiding my cock into her entrance and the other reaching for the oil, pouring more over her ass and over my dick until we were both slippery as fuck. I set down the vial and then started caressing her back as I pushed against her tightness, feeling her open gradually to me, slowly welcoming me in. The head of my dick pushed and pushed and finally eased past the initial resistance, and all of a sudden, I was inside, and her ass was gripping me in the tight heat unlike anything I've felt before. Even with the other girlfriends I've done this with, I've had to hang my head and take several deep breaths, counting to ten, before I could even be sure I wasn't going to lose it too early to savor her properly. I pushed in a little more. Oh, lamb, this is going to be a tight fit, I warned. And it was. The moment I sank all the way home, I paused, giving her a moment to adjust to my size. She breathed in and out, and then sucked in a sharp, needy inhale as I found her clit and began working it. I didn't move for several long moments, simply let her feel the fullness of me while I exploited all that tension I'd built up in her, leading her to the precipice so we could jump off together. I wanted to ask her if she was ready for more, but I knew how frustrated she got with good guy Tyler, was always asking permission. So instead, I moved slowly, waiting at every moment for her to signal that she needed a time or that she needed to stop. I lifted her hips, guiding her to rest on all fours. Pause. I strained my own body as I kept rubbing her clit. Pause. I withdrew just an inch and then pushed in just an inch. Pause. And bit by bit, we went from adjusting to wanting, pushing back into me like the greedy kitten she was, whimpering in protest whenever my hand left her clit. And I gave her slightly more and more until I was pulling out to the tip and gliding back in, still unhurriedly, calmly even, but building steam now. The whole time I stroked her legs and back and rubbed her clit and told her what a good little girl she was. But a good little slut for letting me fuck her sweet ass. My own obedient little slut, and she belonged to me, wasn't that right? She only wanted me inside her. She only wanted my cock, my fingers, and my mouth. She nodded at my words, all of them, and she was trembling as I fucked her, covered in sweat and shivering like she had a fever. I'd meant to hold back until the very end, but seeing her like this made me primal, obsessed with the thought of her coming while I was in her ass. And so I finally settled on her clit in earnest, pressing the pad of my middle fender against it while circling her in the hard, fast way that she liked. Within seconds, she was crying out, pressing her ass against my hips so that it was buried to my balls, her fingers scabbling at the carpet and wordless grunts tearing from her throat. I watched her come apart. The carefully coiffed and sculpted pieces of poppy died forth, falling away like scaffolding, leaving behind a shuddering, incoherent creature of want. And then she ground out one word, and that was it. I was lost, lost to my control, to my vows, to any other thing. The need to mark this woman in the most primitive and basest way possible. One word. Yours.
