Winner of Judge's Choice and Honorable Mention in the Taste of the Forbidden II contest from ... way back?
Enjoy, but read with caution. ;)
Take Up Thy Cross
"Yes! Fuck my pussy! Harder!" I screamed. My voice carried through the church, echoing off the vaulted ceiling and bouncing back to our ears in the rectory above. He pinched and rolled my nipples as he pushed his hard cock deeper into me.
"No cursing, Isabella," he whispered over my shoulder, scooping my hair into one of his hands and pulling it tightly.v I stilled in my movements. What?! Suddenly, a hard, solid slap on my rear end pulled me back to our thrusting. I tried to push myself to meet his pace, but he was going too fast for me to keep up.
"Do. Not. Curse. Isabella," he said between pounding my tender lower lips. He pulled my hair tighter and reached his other hand around to rub my swollen nub. My eyes rolled back; it was too much, too intense. I felt my body begin to surrender to orgasm. "Now, Bella!"v My body obeyed him, as I knew it would. The slick, warm walls of my pussy squeezed his cock—working him the way I knew he loved. His resounding groan only made my walls clamp tighter around him. With three more deep, slamming thrusts, he spilled into me.
"Oh, my Bella," he said moments later, slipping out of me and pulling me to lay beside him on the strewn choir robes. "I love you so much, baby."
I smiled against his chest, kissing his left pec sweetly. "I love you too."
Though I don't recall the exact moment or time or place, there came a point at which I stopped seeing him as my "Pastor." The closer we got to each other, the more blurred that line became.
But let's rewind a bit. I'll take you back to the beginning. Perhaps then, you will understand what I got myself into.
Five years earlier
"I pledge my innocence unto Christ, the Savior, until that day He sends my soul mate. I will not conform to this world and its fallen ways. By the grace of God, I will rise above. So here, to my parents, before this Church and our pastor, I take this oath of virginity until marriage."
The thunderous applause sounded throughout the chapel as we finished our vows and placed little ruby rings on our right ring fingers. I looked to Alice on my left and to Rosalie on my right, smiling at both of them. We'd done it. Each of us had been dreaming of this day since we had first learned about soul mates.
Every girl in the East Valley Christian Church knew where her destiny lie. From the ripe age of ten, we began rigorous training. We learned how to cook meals large enough to feed a family. We wore dresses and never dared to step into pants. Our days at home were spent reading the Bible and doing homeschool studies. The ultimate goal of each of our lives was to marry a man who loved the Lord; he would be our soul mate—the onewhom God chose just for us.
Those like myself, who were extra adventurous, would make it to Bible college (that was what we'd always referred to it as) and graduate with a degree in Ministry with a focus on either music or youth. That was usually the way to go. Some girls even managed to nab their MRS degree while away at college; those lucky girls who found a husband in school seldom ended up graduating, though.
For the past eight years, I had studied table settings, memorized verses and Bible trivia, and spent many hours planning our dream weddings at sleepovers with Alice and Rosalie. All of our hard work, such as avoiding boys at all costs, had paid off. Beyond these things, life did not exist.
I stepped off the stage and made my way toward my parents, my white dress and tiara casting an angelic glow around me. I glanced up toward the rectory, hoping to one day work in this very church after I'd received my degree. Pastor Weber took to the pulpit and we opened our hymnals, following the organist in the strains of "Amazing Grace."
T - T
"Bella!" I heard my mother calling out my name. The airport was especially crowded that day, most likely from all the college students returning home to their families.
I couldn't believe that four years had passed so quickly, but I had made it. Evangelism University had been a pleasant change for me the last four years. I managed to get my degree in youth ministry; I'd even worked with inner-city kids during the last year of my education.
College had been an eye-opening experience for me. Rules dominated my life. Each day, I attended chapel twice. We had Sunday rotations of working with the Music Pastor, Children's Ministries, Elderly Outreach, etc. The unwritten rules I grew up with had not changed either: I never wore pants, never danced, and my twenty-first birthday was spent at a Women's Ministry ice cream social. I was as pure as the driven-snow and I shone above many girls in my class. All the years of training had paid off.
At last, I had made it home and I was eager to begin my work in the church I grew up in. I was very excited to see Rose and Alice again. We had each attended different schools, though we all managed to meet in the middle for spring break; spending our time working at an orphanage in Mexico City was extremely rewarding.
"I've arranged a meeting for you at the church tomorrow after services, Bells," Daddy announced over a scrumptious dinner of my mother's homemade pot roast.
I smiled in gratitude. Forks' Police Chief, Charlie Swan, had always been more than happy to lead my life and point me in the right direction. "Thank you, Daddy."
Mother patted Daddy's back as she walked behind him, dishing scoops of banana pudding into our bowls. "Do you still have Nilla Wafers in the pantry, Mother?" I asked, scooting my chair out and genteelly placing my napkin on the table. She nodded and I excused myself to get some.
After I gathered the cookies from the pantry and closed the door, I began to head back toward the dining room. Something caught my eye from the kitchen window, so I paused to investigate. Over the fence, in the kitchen window of the parsonage, the most handsome man I had ever seen was washing dishes.
Who in the world was he? I'd never seen him before. He must have been new to town; the pastor often had new families over for supper. But, why is he doing the dishes?
His mossy green eyes suddenly flashed to mine. His hair was a fascinating auburn, neither brown nor red, and it stuck out in all directions, as though someone had just run their fingers through it. Neither of us blinked; neither of us moved. The most foreign feelings were flooding my body. He stared into me, as though he could see all the sinful thoughts flowing through my mind.
"Bella?" my mother questioned, entering through the kitchen door. "Did you find them all right, honey?"
"Hmm?" I tore my eyes away from the haunting man next door and focused on my mother. She stood beside me and hugged my shoulders in that perfect, motherly way.
"What has you so distracted, dear?" she asked me. I lifted my gaze back toward the parsonage, but the man was nowhere to be seen. How odd.
"Um... Nothing, Mother," I said, turning toward the dining room. "Let's go finish our dessert, shall we?"
Later that night, I watched in the mirror as I brushed out my long, brown curls. I made sure to keep count of the one hundred strokes, as I'd always been instructed. I had never bothered with makeup, allowing my fair skin and dark brown eyes to speak for themselves. God had given me natural beauty, and "makeup products were like a slap in the face of the Almighty," mother always said.
After I slipped into my long nightgown, I pulled out my Bible and sat on my blue-checkered window seat. This had been my nightly ritual for many years, and I had missed it when I was away at school.
My room was directly above the kitchen, overlooking the entire house and yard. Lit only by the gentle glow of an oil lamp, a man sat on the parsonage porch swing, reading his Bible. The light flickered off the gold-leafed pages, so there was no mistaking the book. From the thickness of the pages, I easily concluded he was reading from the Old Testament—somewhere in Psalms, perhaps.
I watched him for a few moments; the way he studied the pages with such intensity was fascinating. I leaned further out of my window, trying to get a better look at him. My palm caught the rim of one of the flowerpots in the little window planter, and it crashed to the lawn below.
Quickly, I pulled myself back into the room—but I wasn't quick enough. His head snapped up instantly, his eyes seeking the source of the interruption. He sidled up to the fence and looked over. When he noticed the shattered pot, his eyes traveled up the house and landed on my windowsill. I crouched as low as I could to the floor, praying he hadn't seen me.
After several minutes of waiting, I slowly lifted myself up to peek out the window once more. Relief swept over me when I saw that he was no longer standing at the fence. I brushed off my legs, adjusted the top of my nightgown, and tossed my hair back over my shoulder.
There was movement in the darkness, so I was safe. Suddenly, the oil lamp across the yard blazed once more. He sat and watched my every movement. From across the expanse, his eyes looked eerie and black. A slow smile crept over his face and he licked his lips. Gasping, I wrenched the curtains closed and raced to my bed, throwing myself onto it.
It took ages for my heart rate to steady and even out; I knew he was still out there. The squeaking of his porch swing kept me firmly rooted to my mattress.
T - T
