To Service is Divine

She felt hurt by his remark. "No food please, my stomach is a bit upset. Look in the hall closet."

"Are you sure no one came to visit you today? Someone had to have been in my room, it's a mess. Also, there is a big wet spot on my chair. Mom, I need to tell you something else, so please don't get mad. You won't get angry will you?" he said nervously.

She was still reeling from the embarrassment at him mentioning the wet spot. Now he was questioning whether she would be angry for something. Is he going to confess about jerking off? Is this why he is asking if I'll be angry? Perhaps he is feeling guilt for doing something so- sinful as I had just done. Oh God, why did I do it?

Cindy replied in a motherly confident tone, "No son, I won't be angry. I'm sure whatever it is we can work it out. You won't be punished for any sinful, nasty, disgusting deed you may have done. I promise. God will forgive you."

He was a bit confused by her statement, but decided to continue, "Ah... OK mom. Do you remember the Bible that was on my desk? The one you gave me last Christmas? Well- ah- I- I found it next to my bed and...

"I'm really not sure what happened, but many of the pages were damp, wrinkled, and some were torn. I promise it wasn't me; I would never do such a thing. It wasn't just the pages. The spine looked like it was grind up it against something, because it's all wet and shredded. It looks like a dog rampaged through my room and mauled it."

She was unable to respond to what her son just said. The implications made her sick inside, both mentally and physically. She attempted to respond, but began to stutter, unable to come up with a rational answer.

"Mom, are you alright?" he asked as he jiggled the handle on the door.

She had to say something. She had to get him to leave, to stop asking questions. There was no way she was leaving her room tonight. Her humiliation and shame were too great to look at him after having committed such a horrible sin.

She needed to persuade him to go away. Her only solution was to lie and fake sleepiness. "I need to sleep son. I just keep nodding off. So tired (yawn). Friend? Yes. I had a friend from church visit and she had a dog. That must be what happened. It's just as you said. I just didn't pay attention to where her dog roamed in the house. That dog must have gotten his slobbery chops all over it. That's exactly what happened, just as you described. It would explain the smell and wet spot. I'm very sorry. I'll get you another one."

"Well, if you do that, can you also buy me a new remote for my TV? You know the big long one with the large buttons. That dog must have used my remote like a chew toy because some of the buttons are smashed in and there were trickles of watery stuff coming out of it. (No response) Mom? You still awake? Alright, I'll let ya go back to sleep. Love ya."

She felt sick to her stomach. Bible? Remote control? The sick stuff she remembered doing was bad enough, but using a Bible for sexual gratification would be a blasphemy and perversion of the lowest order. It was sacrilege that only a whore of the Devil would contemplate. Even the thought of sticking that large, thick remote up her vagina made her head reel. I must be mentally ill or really deliriously sick. I imagined the text, video, and loss if time. I have to be sick, it's the only explanation.

Her pussy contracted.

Oh my... Jesus, please save me.

What if all of it was real? What if I actually did do all those disgusting sexual things to myself? What if my incestuous masturbation was caught on video? What's to keep the blackmailer from harassing me further?

My god, I would be trapped in an unending nightmare. If I perpetrated those perverted deeds, then someone could blackmail me into doing anything they demanded. I would move Hell just to keep that video from the public. Oh God, what have I done? This has to be over. I did everything I was asked.

This day was a nightmare. Today's events were extremely disturbing. Cindy huddled in the corner near her bed, crying for hours until she could cry no more. She kept checking her phone and was grateful that it had returned to normal. Even the video of her son had been deleted as was promised by her tormentor.

Since she had time to think, she was becoming her old self. She had formulated a game plan for redemption. She would start by washing the sinful filth off her body. Tomorrow, she would start fresh, go to church as she normally did every morning and pray. Her faith would be her saving grace and it would be a guiding light to redemption.

As for her sins, she would make a strong attempt at forgetting what occurred this day. After all, she was manipulated into performing those deviant acts to herself, not by choice; it was a moment of weakness. It would be her past. She made a promise to God that it would never ever happen again. Time would lessen the blunt of the perverse debauchery she committed. Her deeds this day would be forgiven and forgotten. Tomorrow will be a new day.

What Cindy didn't know was that tomorrow really would be a new day.

DAY THREE: Cindy Chesterfield - A New Day:

Cindy woke refreshed as she crawled out of bed completely nude. She had never slept in the nude, not even when she was married. Several nightgowns lay on the floor where she had tossed them last night. Each one she tried to wear either felt itchy, uncomfortable or constraining. After what she had endured yesterday, she wanted to feel relaxed and it just felt right to for some strange reason.

She did remember tossing and turning all night with worry and guilt, but oddly she felt energized as if she had slept a refreshing night.

Contrary to her refreshing morning on this new day, a nightmare had invaded her subconscious as she slept. This dream consisted of people committing all sorts of disgusting acts of sexual fornication and self degradation that she had never knew existed. It was like being dropped into Hell and forced by Satan to watch lurid shows filled with every manner of disgusting sinful perversion. This was not the fire and brimstone version of Hell. This Devil carried a pitchfork with three large cocks in the place of prongs.

In the end, God had saved her. God had pulled her from that pit of depravity. God had told her that she was selected and that she was obligated to service. He had told her that her body was a temple for which all men must worship in. God is your salvation and to service men is to serve God.

When she awoke this morning, the dream was forgotten, replaced with exhilaration and thoughts of redemption.

As she stood before the mirror, admiring her perfect female form, she couldn't help but notice her baby smooth crotch and the clearly defined crevice between her thighs. Placing a hand under each bosom, she raised them up slightly towards the mirror admiring each hard thick nipple and large dark areola. She smiled at how sexy her boobs looked at middle age. Her body really was God's temple, she thought. God would be proud that she took good care of it.

Last night before she showered, she made a point to meticulously shave her nether region. It felt good to clean the filth, including the dark patch of pubic hair that had been caked with her sinful juices. She wanted nothing left to remind her of that moment of depraved weakness. It was filthy, a reminder of her sin.

Cleanliness was next to Godliness after all. However, the honest truth was a line from scripture that kept tickling the back of her mind. She couldn't recollect the exact section in the Bible, but it persistently nagged her. She remembered it saying, 'A woman must have her cunt bare to be reborn before the eyes of God'. At the time, it sounded Godly to her. For her to receive redemption, the scripture practically demanded that she shave her cunt bare like a newborn and be reborn before the eyes of God. She needed redemption; she needed to be reborn in the eyes of God, so with carefulness and precision her cunt became bare like a newborn babe.

She looked at the clock and realized she had overslept and missed making breakfast for her son. She always made breakfast for her son every morning. It provided energy and stamina for them to make it through the day. He will forgive me; after all, I was sick.

Overall, it was just as well, she would have felt uncomfortable being in the same room with him. He would have quite easily have picked up on the fact that she was avoiding his gaze. He would have then questioned if something was wrong. How could she answer that question without breaking down emotionally or possibly worse? She needed more time to allow yesterday to be forgotten. Time would cleanse both of their filthy acts of depravity from her mind.

She was going to church this morning. Her fresh start would begin there. Today was her new day at redemption. She had a consuming need to look her very best.

With a bounce in her step, she merrily sang gospel while she looked for something to wear. She shook her head side to side as she began pulling dress after dress and discarding them in a pile upon the floor. Nothing appealed to her. Her closet was full of drab ankle length dresses. These dresses were her normal wear for morning church service, but now none of them seem appropriate.

A glint of confusion marked her expression as she stared at the pile of dresses on the floor. What am I doing? Why do I keep referring to my body as a temple?

The bewildered thought at that question led to the answer. The confused glint dissipated and a grand smile formed on her face. That's because my body's a temple dedicated to God and it needs to be displayed for men to worship in- me- no- in God's righteous glory.

A neutral line cracked her mouth as she tried to comprehend what she had just thought. Don't I need to look my best in the eyes of the Lord so that I may draw men's eyes to his teachings? To serve God I must spread my- Cindy shook her head. No- spread his word.

I need something different than my normal wear. God would expect me to serve him best by wearing something more appropriate within his house of worship.

Memories of herself when she was younger, before she had found her righteous path to God had given her a clue as to what would be appropriate. These memories brought back a time she was more open and less prudish, young and flighty in mind and spirit. It was a time before her husband had left her for another woman because she no longer satisfied his sinful lusts.

Reaching the back of her closet, she dug out a storage box that had been buried long ago. She smiled at having found an old treasure, long discarded as a remnant of her past.

She held up the dress before her and said, "Perfect."

It was a struggle, but she managed to manhandle the tight, knee high, red dress over her robust body with determination. There was no doubt in her mind that she had gained a little weight. However, it had never occurred to her that her breasts and hips were much fuller in maturity than they were in youth.

Standing before the mirror, she strenuously worked at adjusting the cups to cover her well rounded boobs which left less material to cover the cavernous cleavage between them. Smiling at herself in the mirror, she felt confident that the dress fit her well. After all, she wanted to make sure her nipples didn't present themselves for public viewing. If it was yesterday, she would have been disgusted with herself for even thinking that, but instead she only giggled slightly at that thought.

Cindy had always worn her hair in a bun every day since joining the Church of the Righteous. It was their requirement that the ladies raise their hair to the Lord so that they may bask in his glory. Since going to church, there had never been a time that she was caught with her hair down. However, when she reached for the pins and braids, her hand stopped.

Gazing at her long, thick, blonde hair, she had to admit that it looked really good with the red dress. With her decision made, her hand diverted to pick up the hairbrush instead.

With each stroke of the brush through her hair, she felt grateful for her decision about changing the color from brunette to blonde. She had to admit that changing her hair color made her look different, almost unrecognizable.

Something was missing. Her face was just too plain. Wouldn't God want her to glow, to stand within his house and draw his praise to a face painted with bright colors? God's temple should be painted to draw attention to his righteous doors. It just didn't seem right to wear a new dress and hair color without adding makeup. Digging into the old box, she found the cosmetics that lay lost and forgotten.

She was excited and anxious to meet with her friends at church. The ladies will definitely be chatty about her new look.

Cindy exited her home wearing the very tight, knee high, red dress with matching red heels.

-

The morning service had already commenced when she walked through the double doors at the church. Reverend Jarvis was at his podium preaching his sermon of 'Hell and Damnation'.

Just great, she thought, that's just what I need to hear this morning. I came to church to pray for forgiveness and now I have to listen to a 45 minute sermon, describing where I will end up and what will happen to me for sinning. Perhaps I made a mistake coming this morning.

Cindy smiled and her heart filled with joy upon seeing her friends all seated in the front row. They would be pleased that I'm honoring the Lord by wearing a new dress. She was striding towards them, anxious to sit and gossip. Counting heads, she realized that Helen and Francis were not among them. Strangely, neither of them ever missed morning service unless they were sick.

She reacted immediately and slowed her pace when Reverend Jarvis stopped his sermon midsentence and glared at her. She was confused by his behavior. For a Holy man, he looked at her like he wanted to crucify her to a cross. The Reverend's action had prompted her friends and many others in the congregation to turn their heads.

In shocked condemnation, the women began whispering among themselves. Cindy could hear the words resound from the silence. 'Whore', 'Slut', 'Jezebel', 'Harlot' were some of the words they spewed in vile tones directed towards her. She felt like running and hiding in a hole, unable to comprehend their reaction.

Did they not recognize me as one of their own?

Reverend Jarvis realized he had lost the attention of his flock and needed to do something before his flock became wolves and descended upon the whore. Regardless of who entered the domain of God, he firmly believed it should be a sanctuary of peace.

He simply resumed his sermon where he left off. The condemning assemblage's loud whispering was drowned out by the Reverend's deep reverberating voice. His dramatic display of theatrics and forceful sermon grabbed the congregation's attention.

"...and the Devil will own your soul! He will force you to do unspeakable acts of sin! Once you've tasted his lies, committed his sinful commands, you will be his to play with as he chooses! You become his whore. Do you want to be the Devil's plaything?" the Reverend bellowed.

The congregation replied with fervor, "No!"

Cindy was ashamed by the Reverend's words. The condemning responses shown by the congregation made her aware that she was being observed as an outsider. She quickly slid into an empty pew and tilted her head down to hide her face, her long hair hanging. There was great relief that no one recognized her.

An awareness of her naked legs and noticeable cleavage captivated her as she looked down. An awful feeling of queasiness overtook at the sight of her hard thick nipples poking through the thin material of her tight dress. It was quite apparent why everyone reacted as they did.

How in my right mind did I think that this was appropriate attire for church or even in public for that matter?

"Oh my God," she whispered to herself in alarm.

Grabbing the front of her dress with both hands where it separated at the cleavage, she pulled it out slightly to look inside her dress. Her eyes widened with the realization that she wasn't wearing any undergarments.

"I'm insane."

Insanity is the only explanation for my demented behavior.

Why in my right mind, would I intentionally come to church dressed as a whore?

A doctor; I need to see one immediately for an appointment. This isn't me; I don't do things like this.

There was a sudden noise, a clanking of unknown horror that startled her. It was her phone vibrating and rattling against the keys in her purse. It was a creepy coincidence that bordered on the supernatural. Coincidence or was it the Devil calling?

"I did not set it to vibrant."

It was eerie, that sound, like bells from the netherworld, it was a foreboding trumpet urging her to answer. It was calling to her, beckoning her to reach within the dark pit of her purse. She felt wary and frightened at the idea of looking down into the dark cavity; a little devil might be looking back up.

With reluctant dread, she fearfully reached into her purse.

There it was on the screen. 'Will you service?' the text read. There was neither a timer nor explanation as to what she was to agree or disagree with. Only two buttons showed brightly in yellow. 'Yes or No'. That question made absolutely no sense. She substituted the word 'service' with the word 'comply'.

Her imagination ran wild at what would happen if she pressed 'No'.

She envisioned phones broadcasting their annoying ringtones throughout the church. As one, the flock would raise their screens to the heavens. A video would automatically pop-up and begin to play. She knew what video would be playing. It would be an infusion of five hours of her perverted debauchery from yesterday condensed into a few minutes of sexually deviant porno starring her. Their righteous heads would turn her direction.

Her nerves were on edge and her hand was shaking when she reluctantly pressed 'Yes'.

The phone began vibrating wildly in her hand. She waited for text to appear, but it remained blank. Cindy stared with confusion at the blank vibrating phone.

What am I to do? What did I comply to do? Will I service what? I don't understand.

Her phone continued to vibrate. She tried to turn it off, but it wouldn't respond.

She needed direction, a hint to guide her, so in desperation she said, "I don't understand. What do you want me to do?"

Holding the vibrating phone in hand, she stared at it, unable to comprehend. Its vibration continued to rattle her hand, unending, forever teasing her with dead answers.

The Devil continued to shake her hand. With a gasp, the answer came to her from the rolling motor beckoning from between her tightly gripped fingers, the thunderous realization of its intended purpose.

"Oh God, Oh Jesus, you can't mean for me... Not here. Not within this Holy shrine."

Her face flushed pale, drained from the comprehension of her task. It became quite apparent that she was to service herself.

For her to perform the Devil's task within these walls, it would be a sacrilege, a blasphemous act performed only by a whore. She whispered into the phone, hoping the Devil was listening, "This isn't right; you know I can't do what you ask. Not here, not now." Her hands shook from the nervous fear at his response.

Would the Devil care, if he was the one holding the puppet's strings?

"I know I agreed, but-"

The phone suddenly began modulating with vibrations at different levels of strength. She interpreted the sudden modulation as a warning.

She felt shame, humiliation and regret for what she was about to do. Like the Reverend's sermon, she would be dammed, the Devil's whore fulfilling his demands, all for self-preservation and her righteous reputation. A muffled wail stuttered out in broken pitch, the harbinger voicing her anguish at her loss of redemption. Redemption that could never be reclaimed due the act she was about to commit.