The Priests' Whore II

Elara’s POV

I woke up slick and aching, my thighs sticky from a dream where Elias and Thorne had worshipped me on the altar, Elias's tongue delving into my sacred places with reverent strokes, Thorne's cock plunging deep while he chanted litanies. 

I dressed in my white gown, the fabric hugging my bare skin making my nipples pebble at the friction. I still didn't wear any underwear.

Breakfast was torture, I was informed that I was to have breakfast with Father Elias and Thorne. They sat across from me, Elias with his composed demeanor, but I caught his eyes darting to my throat.

But what set my skin on fire was the foot sliding up my calf under the table in a slow deliberate massage.

Father Thorne's, no doubt. I bit my lip to stifle a moan, spreading my legs just enough to invite more. The cool air kissed my exposed pussy. He withdrew when a sister passed, and I shamelessly mourned the loss of his touch.

After, father Elias took me to the library for “meditation on scripture.” The room was a labyrinth of shelves. 

He selected a thick brown book  his fingers brushing mine as he handed it over and I could have sworn that it was intentional.

“Read aloud,” he instructed, settling into a chair that was way too close, his knee touching mine.

My voice trembled through the verses, each word a caress building the heat between us.

Elias shifted, then my eyes caught the tent in his habit, the outline of his thick length straining against the fabric. I faltered on a line about breasts like clusters of grapes and he leaned forward, hand on my thigh, his fingers digging just enough to leave a mark. “Continue," he growled, but his touch did not fade, he parted my knees, finding the hem of my dress.

I did, voice husky as his fingers slipped beneath, tracing the soft inner skin, inching toward my core. This was wrong, I knew it, but fuck if it didn't feel so right.

He paused at the edge, restraint flickering in his eyes. No, he can't stop now, or else I might actually self-destruct. I arched into him, whispering, “Father, please.” 

Then in one go, two fingers plunged into my wetness, thick and curling, stroking my walls with a precision that made me see stars. I gasped, the book tumbling from my hands as he pumped slowly, thumb circling my clit in maddening loops.

You're soaked for me, sister,” he murmured, voice rough with lust. His free hand cupped my breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger until I arched and whimpered.

He mumbled something about how wrong this was, then his thrusts quickened, scissoring inside me and hitting that spot that made me see stars. I came with a muffled cry, clenching around him, my juices coating his hand as he withdrew, bringing his fingers to his lips and sucking them clean with a groan.

But he didn't stop there. Rising, he pulled me to my feet, pressing me against the shelves, books digging into my back as his mouth claimed mine. It wasn't gentle, he was devouring me, his tongue thrusting in time with what his fingers had done. His erection ground against my belly, hot and insistent and I reached down, palming him through the fabric, feeling the veined length. 

“Elias,” I breathed, and he shuddered, breaking the kiss to trail bites down my neck, sucking marks that would turn red.

We might have gone further, but footsteps sounded outside, and he stepped back, adjusting himself. “Later,” he promised, eyes dark. “In confession." 

In the afternoon, I saw Thorne in the gardens. I must admit, I was unconsciously looking around for him. He led me to a secluded arbor, overgrown with vines. 

“We have herbs for the infirmary," he said, but his hands were on me before I could form a sentence. Thorns pricked against my skin through the dress, but all I could think of was the mouth on mine, fiercer than Elias's, his teeth nipping my lip until he drew a bead of blood that he licked away. 

“You're a temptation, Sister. Is that being done on purpose?” he rasped.

I shook my head, unable to come up with a sentence. 

His hands roamed up my sides, cupping my breasts, his thumb flicking my nipples until they ached. He dropped to his knees, bunching my dress to my waist, exposing me to the open air..

Look at you, bare and dripping for me.” His breath fanned my folds and I nodded. I was wet for him, for both of them.

I threaded my fingers in his hair, guiding him closer.

He inhaled deeply, then dove in, his tongue flat and broad, lapping from entrance to clit in one long stroke that made my knees buckle.

I cried out, clutching the vines as he devoured me, sucking my clit like a starved man. Two fingers joined his tongue to fuck me deep and hard. Wet sounds filled the garden, mingling with my moans and his growls of appreciation.

“You taste like sin,” he mumbled against me, nipping my inner thigh then soothing it with kisses. "My sin.”

"Thorne, Oh God, yes" I babbled, hips grinding against his face, chasing the edge. His free hand slithered to my ass, his thumb circling the tiny hole, a shocking intrusion that made me clench around his finger in my pussy. Then my orgasm hit like a thunderbolt, my walls spasming and gushing over his hand and mouth in hot spurts. He lapped at my juices greedily.

“Fuck you taste like an aphrodisiac”

He rose and freed his cock. Like I imagined, he was girthy, the head leaked with precum. 

He gripped my hair, tilting my head back.

“Your turn, Sister.” he rasped, feeding it past my lips, inch by inch. I gagged as the head hit my throat, my eyes watering. But I wanted more, I craved more. I hollowed my cheeks to suck, and used my tongue to trace the underside vein that pulsed wildly. He thrust deep, his balls tapping my chin. 

Drool spilled from my mouth, mixing with precum. My throat convulsed around him in wet choking glurks that made him curse, “Fucking hell, your mouth is perfect, Sister. Take it, swallow me whole." 

One hand braced the vine above my head, the other guided my rhythm, fucking my face with increasing ferocity, the slap of skin and my muffled gags filling the arbor.

I reached up, nails digging into his thigh, then lower, cupping his balls to rub gently, rolling them as they drew up tight. He swelled and groaned then he erupted, ropes of cum blasting down my throat. I gulped it all down, milking him with swallows until he shuddered and pulled out to paint my lips with the last spurts, his thumb smearing it across my mouth.

He helped me to his and father Elias's cell and cleaned me with a damp cloth. 

“Rest here tonight," he whispered, curling behind me, arm draped possessively over my waist and his cock soft against my ass.

“Elias will join soon. You're ours now, Elara. No turning back." 

Sleep came in fits, but even within my hazy thoughts, I imagined them both on me. In me.

Truly, I was theirs, body and soul.