Final Intimacy

Did you know she was a nun?

When you stare into her eyes you can almost feel the smoldering embers of her most hidden libertine fantasies , those raw smoldering flames of pent up lust threatening to consume her few remaining vestiges of self-control.

Now she is but a shell of carnal need, dripping savagely onto the tiles. Whatever moralistic inhibitions that might have once constrained her are gone, burned away in the searing heat of her inferno passion.

Tonight the heat of her wet longing belongs only to the Grand Inquisitor.

Stepping out of her "sensible" habit, the Sister felt the cold hardness of the dungeon floor against the soles of her feet. Pausing she turns to gaze up the fingers around her blonde hair that yanks her forward. The Grand Inquisitor makes no sound as he leads her hair, watching her crawl a few feet before the reeking headsman's block. Then without warning rams a wooden statue of the Lord into her dripping womanhood.

Her blue eyes flash wildly and she let out a ringing gasp. She turns back frantically, seeing the small wooden figurine curl into her hole, plunging deep until her eyes stung, the figurine of her Savior, and the first "man" to inspire her divine ecstasy when she was a little girl. A breath was yanked out of her throat as the Inquisitor clenches her blonde mop and pulls her toward the execution block.

She wants to resist, wants to push back the invading "Christ," but her womanhood speak for her and her creaming walls eggs the statue deeper toward her core. She suppresses a groan, feeling disgusted at the briefest glimmer of pleasure she feels from the molestation. And for a handful of excruciating seconds, the Sister’s heart forgot how to beat. Reluctantly, it stutters back into rhythm.

It is her moment of truth. Deep down she couldn't believe that she’d let someone do this to her, her hips spasm as she suddenly glistens with her unwanted arousal, a gurgling flood burst out, spinning a web between her cunt and the tiles, yet she still feels her slit growing wetter with each twisted vibration, sending shocks of pleasure through her body.

Feeling ashamed at her buckling legs, she shifts madly, trying to disgorge the burning Christ. Her face grow warm as she blushed, bearing down upon the crashing urge to let loose her second and third orgasms.

He watches her face contort, her jaw clenching firmly, trying to contain a smile. Watching as his rough hand lowers her head around the block's rotting grove, the Christ deep within her intimate depths shifted with the slightest movement.

She tries to turn away, she tries to focus on the dreadful heaps of heads beneath the block. She tries to remind herself the blood that lashes from the gnarled neck stump of her heretical Sisters that have been deemed "possessed." Their nude, headless bodies burns in the nearby dungeon, she had seen these "witch's'" corpses. Flame erupting from veins that became a web of blisters, then their charcoal skin hiss as the fire from within seems to consume them, like Satan stripping their nude flesh off the bones. She remembers seeing their twisted black frames shatter upon the cherry red stone, and a boy of no more that ten hurl their once gorgeous faces into the dying flames as if into hell itself.

Struggling to keep her overwhelmed libido in check she feels the last vestiges of her self-control slipping away. She put her hands on her hips as if praying the flood would never come, then she feels her mind tear and her eyes roll deep behind their sockets, feeling whatever devotion she had toward Christ leaving her along with her rumbling cunt. At her moment of truth she wanted only to come and come until she is no more.

She barely hears the scrape of something heavy against the carpeting,

He brings his free hand around to grope her toned buttocks briefly before yanking out the statue.

Without warning the Sister squirts jets of her last cum savagely across the room as the axe disappear into her silky neck.