The Devil and Angel Em

Job composed himself, but couldn't meet her eye. "I'm supposed to... oh God, this will sound terrible, I know... I was made a new offer. Cozbi promised to cure my tumor and allow me to keep my soul, in exchange for... seducing you."

The silence was deafening. When he finally managed to meet her gaze, he found, not horror or disgust, but sympathy.

"I'm so sorry, Sister," Job croaked, again close to tears. "I'm a horrible person for even considering such a thing, let alone agreeing to it. But I didn't know what else to do."

"I understand." Her compassionate smile melted his heart. "Now, I suppose, you need to hear my story."

Sister Emily stood, again moving in front of the altar. Her face tilted upwards, taking in the ornate cross above, the crucified Jesus hanging from it appearing to stare back at her.

"Forgive me, Lord." Again, she crossed herself.

Turning back to Job, she began her tale.

"I was raised Catholic by my parents. My faith was always strong, even well into my teens, when we all face, well, the usual temptations of the flesh.

"My resolve to remain pure was strong though, even throughout high school. I even resisted the sin of... self pleasure, although that became far more difficult as time went on.

"It wasn't until my freshman year of college that I was faced with my first true temptation. My roommate, Randi.

"We started as nothing more than friends, but the more time I spent with her, the more I found myself... attracted.

"I was an only child, so I wasn't used to sharing a room with someone else. I was shocked by her casual nature, often walking around our dorm room in nothing but bra and panties or worse, fully nude.

"I'd been attracted to men, of course, but that was much easier to resist, as I'd never even dated, let alone put myself in a situation where I was alone with one. Well, except this one time, and it ended... badly.

"But now I was living with a beautiful young woman, becoming close, becoming friends, and yet also finding myself lusting after her.

"Then one night, we were just hanging out, unwinding after our finals. Randi had broken out a bottle of wine to celebrate, and while I was never a big drinker, I joined her in having a few glasses.

"Next thing you know, we were kissing. I don't remember who started it. I only remember.... enjoying it. Far too much.

"I had to force myself to stop. Randi, of course, felt hurt. She wanted to continue. But I couldn't, even when she confessed her love for me. It was... too much. Because I... I loved her, too.

"It's one thing to succumb to the desires of the flesh, but to fall prey to the sin of homosexuality? I just couldn't."

Sister Emily hung her head in shame. "I panicked; fled our room. I slept on the student common room couch and had my parents pick me up the next morning. I told them I'd cracked from the pressures of finals and simply couldn't handle it anymore.

"I never went back. I dropped out of college that year, and soon after, joined the Sisterhood. Dedicating my life to God was the only way I could avoid falling into a life of debauchery and sin."

She sighed. "Or at least, so I thought. I struggled to control my thoughts, my... desires. No matter how fervently I prayed, I would find myself lying awake at night with a desperate ache, a need almost primal with its insistence to be met.

"It started simply enough. Touching myself. Exploring how to give myself pleasure, to satisfy that urge. I excused it by believing it would keep me from going further.

"Then I started watching porn. I wasn't supposed to have access to it, but my parents had given me a phone to keep in touch, and eventually I gave into the temptation to seek it out. Again my excuse was that at least it was only fantasy, and I wasn't actually going out and acting on my desires.

"I prayed for forgiveness after every orgasm, of course. And yet, after a while, I began to question why. Why would God create us with the ability to experience such pleasure, yet deny us the right to?"

Sister Emily's face was flushed, both embarrassed by her confessions, and excited by them. "Anyway, to get to the point of it; I've been questioning my faith these past few years, and whether I've made the right choice with my life. And so last night, I prayed to God for a sign, any sign, that would help me to decide what to do.

"And then YOU walked in the door. Yes, I recognized you. I discovered your movies about a year ago. And I found myself... drawn to them. To you."

Noting the look on Job's face, she laughed softly. "I know, shocking, right? The idea of this sweet, innocent looking nun watching your films, masturbating to them? Fantasizing about being the woman you were... pleasing?

"I found you attractive of course, but it wasn't just your physical looks, or the size of your cock."

She crossed herself instinctively as the vulgarity slipped from her lips, then continued. "It was the way the women you... oh, fuck it, I'm well beyond being worried about my language at this point... the way they looked as you fucked them. I'd watched a lot of porn by then, and could always spot the fakers.

"But the women you were with always seemed to genuinely be enjoying themselves, no matter how wild and crazy it got. They were having true, REAL orgasms. Every time. And I could see their appreciation of you in their eyes."

"Oh, don't worry," she smiled, noting his reaction, "I didn't fall 'in love' with you or something. But I definitely became... infatuated."

"Look, Sister, you..."

"Emily," she interrupted. "I think I'd prefer if you dropped the 'Sister' at this point."

"Fine. Look, Emily, you have to understand that porn isn't reality, right? A lot of that stuff isn't nearly as..."

"I know," she cut in, irritated. "I'm not completely naive. Or sheltered. Doesn't matter. What matters is; I prayed for a sign, and the guy I've been obsessing over while masturbating walks in my door, telling me he needs to fuck me to save his soul. How am I supposed to take that?"

"I dunno," Job laughed nervously. "If it was me? I'd say that's one fucked up message from God."

"Yeah, my thoughts too. I've always been told 'God works in mysterious ways,' but this is just downright crazy."

At her sweet, lilting laugh, Job felt remorse stab him in the gut like a pitchfork. They were here because of his selfishness, his own shallow desires. Sister Emily didn't deserve to be dragged into this.

Job stood, finally finding his courage. "Look, Sis... Emily, I should go. This is my mess, not yours. I dug my own grave here. I'll have to deal with the consequences."

Her soft voice stopped him short of the door. "Dirk, please, don't go."

Job turned to find Emily now sitting on the altar. Her face was radiant, her eyes determined.

Wordlessly she pulled off her veil, tossing it aside with casual abandon. Her long, wavy blonde hair spilled out to cascade over her shoulders, framing her lovely oval face.

"The consequences of your actions brought you here, true," her voice was low, almost throaty, "but I also believe God sent you to me for a reason. The Bible says that 'looking with lust in my heart' is just as much a sin as acting on that lust. And if that's the case, I'm already damned, because, being frank, I'm not repentant for it.

"But I believe you're here, now, to set me on another path. And saving your soul, even at the possible cost of my own, is the start of that journey."

Emily reached down and pulled up her long, black skirt. Job's eyes went wide with the realization she wore no panties beneath it.

Her pussy was as petite as the rest of her, tiny labia barely peeking out from her plump vulva, already glistening with a light sheen of arousal.

Emily noted his gaze and blushed. "I took them off after you left earlier. They were soaked. Never bothered with another pair."

Job had to tear his eyes from it to find her face. He saw no fear there, no apprehension, no doubt.

Her smile was warm, confident, and alluring.

"Job," he finally managed to speak.

"What?"

"That's my real name. Job."

Emily laughed. "Like the Bible Job? I suppose that shouldn't surprise me. Well, nice to meet you, Job. Now, get over here and save your soul."

Job moved towards her. His first step was tentative. His second, less so. Then he was practically running.

Her legs parted wider as he closed the short distance, moving between them.

She gasped, not in fear, but relief, as his strong hands found her body, embracing her, pulling her to him, instantly returning the passionate kiss he offered.

Her heart raced as he yanked her blouse free from the confines of her skirt, his hands immediately finding their way under it to caress her smooth, soft skin.

He worked at the buttons, struggling to undo them without ripping her garment.

She helped by pulling at the blouse herself, tearing it open, buttons flying in random directions, clattering to the hardwood floor.

Job broke from their kiss to admire her pert breasts and puffy areola, not the least bit surprised this time to discover she wore no bra.

Their eyes met again and still he saw no fear in her. Yet he offered, "Are you sure? If you change your mind, just..."

Emily silenced him by grabbing his head and pulling him to her breasts. His lips found her already swollen nipples and sucked at them hungrily. Her breasts were small, much smaller than many of the women he'd worked with over the past year, but unlike so many of them, Emily's were natural, a welcome change.

Emily could feel the heat building between her legs as Job continued to suckle at her breasts, a fire begging to be quenched.

A plea she could no longer deny. Grabbing his head, she pushed him lower, her desire unmistakable.

Job kissed his way down her firm, flat belly, enjoying the taste of the light sweat of her skin. He reached for the waistband of her skirt and pulled it down and off in one swift move.

The unmistakable scent of her arousal wafted to his nose as he kissed his way along her padded pubic mound. She was smooth, hairless; yet another surprise.

Her hands continued to push at him, urging him lower. "Please," she managed between rapid breaths.

Her gasps became squeals of unbridled joy as his lips moved over her soft, wet cleft, and when his tongue darted out to glide its way between her swollen labia, she fell to her back, trembling uncontrollably.

Her hands still clung to his head, pulling at his hair, as if hanging on for dear life.

Job followed the subtle guidance of both her hands and hips, directing him exactly where she wanted him to focus his efforts: her tiny, rock hard clit.

Job worked her expertly, his tongue a buzzing honeybee, fluttering and flickering and gathering her sweet nectar as it flowed from her delicate petals.

Emily's grip on him tightened, almost painfully, her squeaks echoing in the tiny chapel as her orgasm approached.

Job held her shaking legs with both hands as she bucked wildly, crying out over and over again in ecstasy.

Emily wept in happiness. She'd waited far too long to allow herself this pleasure.

And she wasn't even close to being sated yet.

Sitting up, Emily pulled Job from his knees, where he'd been worshiping at the altar of her virgin sex.

Her face was flushed, urgent. She was already working at his jeans. "Fuck me."

Job helped her remove his pants and quickly ditched his shirt as well.

Emily had seen his cock before, and others like it, in videos, countless times now. Still, she wasn't quite prepared for just how ALIVE it looked, bobbing, twitching and throbbing with an all too obvious desire to delve into her unexplored depths.

Leaning forward, she wrapped her dainty hands around it, thrilled to finally feel it pulsing within her grasp. "It's beautiful," she whispered.

She found his lips, her kiss desperate and needy. Laying back on the altar, dragging him with her, she opened herself to him. "Fuck me, Job. I need you inside me, right now!"

Job reached between his legs, rolling back his foreskin before placing the tip of his throbbing cock against her soft folds.

Again, he hesitated. "This... this might hurt. I'll try to be gentle, but..."

Emily couldn't help but laugh. "You think I don't know that? Don't expect that? I'm no stranger to pain, Job. Don't worry about me."

To emphasize her point, Emily reached out and grabbed one of the still lit prayer candles, removing it from its holder.

With a wicked grin, she moved the candle over her breasts. Hot wax dripped from it onto her nipple as she tilted it, running down her breast, congealing quickly on her skin.

Emily pointed the candle over her other breast and repeated the move, showing no signs of discomfort at all.

"I've been preparing myself for this, Job, even if I didn't know it at the time," she smirked. "I want the pain, I ache for it. Because the pain will mean I'm finally free."

Emily took his hips, desperately pulling him towards her. She inhaled, a long, deep breath, as his cock head again pressed up against her needy sex, slipping past the protective folds.

She let the air out slowly as he inched his way into her, gasping only slightly as he pushed against, then past, her hymen.

A sharp but fleeting burst of pain struck her, followed by the feeling of fullness as his thick member stretched her tight, slippery tunnel.

And then he was inside her. "Oh, fuck, that's deep."

Despite her assurances, Job took a moment to make sure she was okay. And to enjoy the pure, blissful feeling of her warm embrace.

Then he began to pump.

Emily lay back on the altar, looking up at the cross hanging above her. She'd always hated that cross; the eyes of the crucified Jesus seemed to follow her everywhere and now, even at this angle, it appeared to be watching her as she sacrificed her chastity.

The brief irritation of her hymen being torn away by Job's massive intrusion now faded, Emily could feel every ridge, every thick, engorged vein of his organ as he slowly slid in and out.

Too slowly.

Emily sat up, frustrated. "You're still treating me like some delicate flower. If you're gonna fuck me! Fuck me like you did Suki Starr."

Job stopped his movements. Suki Starr was a beautiful young woman of Japanese / American mix; the same general height and body type as Emily. Although of course her hair was a dark black as opposed to Emily's blonde.

Suki was famous for two things; her stunning deepthroat capabilities, and her absolute love of wild, rough, often nasty sex.

"Are you sure that's what you really want?"

Emily almost growled in frustration. "If you ask me if I'm sure one more time, I'm seriously going to regret not letting you burn in Hell."

Job had to laugh. "Okay, fine. But we're gonna need a Safe Word. You know, something you say as a signal that I need to stop whatever I'm doing immediately. Because..."

"I know what a Safe Word is, hun," Emily smirked. "How about... 'prohibere?' It's Latin for 'stop.'"

"Works for me."

Grabbing her legs, Job threw them up over his shoulders, then bent forward, pinning her slight frame down by her arms. He no longer restrained his efforts as he began again, pounding her relentlessly with his full length, their flesh slapping loudly.

"Oh, fuck YES!" Emily's back arched over the altar that shook noisily beneath them, threatening to topple over with their efforts. "Take me! Fuck me! Make me your slut!"

Their coupling was raw, unbridled. And Emily thrilled to every second of it, releasing years of repression with loud cries and bellowed obscenities, egging him on, begging, pleading, demanding.

She'd become accustomed to giving herself orgasms by this point, but was not used to being at someone's mercy for her pleasure.

With Job's strong arms holding her down, she was unable to do more than squirm beneath him, trying to meet his thrusts, to somehow open herself up wider to accommodate his massive member. She'd experimented with the candles a few times, but never too deep, and they certainly weren't as thick as the living, pulsing phallus currently stretching her vaginal muscles to unaccustomed limits.

Her orgasm started deep within her belly, the waves spreading quickly through her abdomen, up through her breasts and chest, down through her trembling legs and curled, clenched toes.

Her aching pussy erupted in spasms around his shaft, juices flowing freely, the air in the small, enclosed space now thick with her scent.

Job never slowed or eased his pace, even as her eyes rolled back and a guttural wail escaped her lips.

Up until that point, he'd been running on pure instinct. Seeing her lay below him, flushed, sweaty and trembling with orgasmic aftershocks, he no longer held himself back.

He pulled his slick, cream covered cock from her just in time for his first blast of cum to shoot across her tiny body, leaving a long, thick trail from tits to navel.

Still more landed on her glistening pussy, mixing with the sticky mess of her own juices.

Letting go of her arm, he took his cock in hand and quickly stroked out the rest of his seed, shaking it over her, splattering her skin in translucent white droplets.

Emily smeared the sticky mess into her skin.

Job smacked her hand away. Gathering a glob of spunk on his fingers, he shoved them into her mouth. Emily sucked at them greedily, savoring her first taste of cum.

Her pale blue eyes met his, a mix of innocence and harlot. "I want more," she whispered.

"Good girl."

Grabbing her hair, Job pulled her up from the altar. She didn't fight him as he guided her firmly to a kneeling position on the floor.

His cock was, of course, still rock hard, glistening with her juices. Emily eyed it hungrily. Her tiny hand reached for it eagerly.

Job again smacked it away. "No! Wait here, don't move."

He quickly retrieved his pants and pulled the leather belt from them. Dropping behind her, he bound her arms behind her back. Emily winced but didn't complain as he cinched the loop tightly around her wrists.

Moving again in front of her, he grabbed a fistful of her disheveled blonde hair and guided her face towards his cock, placing the swollen glans against her lips. "Lick it clean," he commanded, slapping her cheek firmly with his free hand.

Emily's tongue darted out from between her lips, flicking the underside of the tip before extending fully to lick along the length of him, from tip to base and back.

Job gasped in pleasure as her tongue danced in circles over his shaft, lapping up the sticky mess that coated him, mewling in pleasure as she tasted herself on it.

"Don't forget the balls, angel," he directed. Emily complied immediately, her lips and tongue slurping noisily at his scrotum.

Satisfied with her tongue bath, he again pulled at her hair, tilting her oval face up towards him. He slapped his cock across her cheek three times in rapid succession. "You ready to suck your first cock, angel?"

"Yes, Daddy," she responded softly.

He slapped her face with his hand this time. "I didn't hear you. Say it louder!"

"Yes, Daddy!"

Another smack. "Louder! Beg me for it, angel."

"Daddy, please! Please let me suck your cock!"

"Good girl." Job pulled her in, her mouth opening to accept him.

Emily took the first four inches easily, but found herself gagging on the fifth. Job's grip on her hair was insistent, pushing her deeper despite her struggles.

Her gag reflex engaged again and her eyes bulged widely as she fought to control her retching.

"PHHHFFFMMMUM!"

Job pulled his cock from her mouth, strands of saliva drooling from her lips. "What?"

"Prohibere!" Emily cried, struggling for air.

"Oh! Shit, sorry! I guess we didn't really work out a signal for when you couldn't speak."

"It's... okay," Emily said, finally catching her breath and getting her gorge back under control. "It's just... I've only ever practiced on, well, vegetables. I thought I could take more, but..." Her freckled face flushed with embarrassment.