#nsfwe #gore #religiouskinks #ramblings #honestlyjuststraightsmutwriting #canyoublameme??? devotion and worship . . . an interesting combination, but devoted and devotee often go hand in hand. consider this . . . the sinner and the pious, the pious can carve his words into the sinner, slice them into his very being if that’s what it takes, but the it’s all to the sinner’s delight use your claws to slice your words into the sinner’s flesh, but it doesn’t matter for the sinner takes every new rule as not something to break, rather something to *corrupt* to the very core values you teach a sinner of penance and the sinner learns gluttony in punishment you teach a sinner of innocence, and he instead learns of new ways to draw you further and further in you try to teach retribution, but you learn the thrill of control . . . each new mark of teaching is a new form of excitement for the pious ingraining your beliefs into another has become power power that the sinner feeds you knowingly . . . each bite makes you think you’re more in control until the sinner is on top of you until the sinner sneers down at you like you’re beneath him and tells you to say please you’ve found your lust for power has turned into a lust for the flesh you want to not just be inside, but to claim ownership in every way so in your desperation, you let out a plea and that’s all it takes for the sinner to know he’s corrupted you he pets your face, a gentle gesture as he takes in the start of a dimmed light he’s planted the seed, now he just needs to nourish as his influence takes root and snakes between your organs his petting goes to your hair and grips, forcing the gaze you didn’t realize moved to his nook hovering over your bulge to meet his ganders a cold, flat, and innocent face turned into the manic high from the win “you’re begging for this wretched being, tainted as i am, to ride you? what does that make you?” the sinner has you in his grasp, making you aware of how he’s dragged you down to his level with just a few words he lowers his hips over your bulge, feeling you start to spread him in its desperate thrash, but it doesn’t matter, the depth is in complete control of the sinner above “as if you’d ever find salvation after this, no amount of penance could save a disturbing *wretch* like you from damnation.” he doesn’t break eye contact with you, staying torturously slow until his hips meet yours his mouth would be dripping venom if it could “beg whatever it is you worship, but this transgression will never be washed away . . . ” and you find those words *hurt* just as much as hearing them from your messiahs or god(s) . . . i, the sinner, smile down at you
