by Richard
Welcome back for some more Kinktober! Today I have a story for the prompt Worship.
Day 12
Richard – Worship
I took a deep breath before dropping my robes. A half dozen other priestess slaves surrounded me. Mirrors lined the walls, ceiling, and floor, giving them a view of me from every angle in the harsh, sterile light. None of them said anything; only one could, the others were all wearing ball gags as they inspected me. I’d already shaved carefully and showered, but it was the high priestess and her acolyte’s job to make sure she was perfect (or as close to perfect as a slave-cunt could be) before I was offered to our God. I hissed softly as they grabbed my arms, legs, and head, twisting them this way and that, checking me from every angle. One of the acolytes slid a straight razor from her robe, the light flashing across the blade as she opened it and sliced a stray hair from the back of my thigh.
Satisfied, a few of the girls started rubbing warm lavender oil across my skin while the others slowly brushed out my hair. The head priestess applied a heavy coat of bright red lipstick to my lips for a final touch. It was important for him to see, as well as feel, how deep we could go. The other girls lined the path to a door on the opposite side of the room, and she opened it, waving me through.
I stepped out into the temple’s inner sanctum. There, bathed in holy light, was our Lord. He sat on the throne, completely naked. I’d never seen him like that before. I’d imagined it plenty of times, but to see it…
He looked over at me. My breath caught, knees buckled, and cunt dripped. I dropped down onto my knees and bowed my head, waiting for his order.
“Crawl,” he said. It was probably my imagination, but it felt like his voice echoed right between my legs.
I did as I was told, slowly approaching the throne until I was staring at his feet.
“You may stand,” he said. “Let me take a look at you. Some of my recent offerings have proven… unsatisfactory.
I swallowed hard and stood, “Yes, Master. I hope you find me pleasing.”
“Turn. Slowly.”
I did, flushing as I felt him eye-fucking me.
When I turned back, he was nodding, one hand lightly fondling his cock. I tried not to look at it, knowing if I did, there was no way I’d be able to pull my eyes away.
“Adequate,” he said. “What manner of service are you here to offer me, slave-girl?”
“Any you desire, Sir. Though I’ve been told I work best with my mouth.”
He smiled hungrily, sending a shiver up my spine. “Back on your knees then. You can work your way up.”
I did as I was told, kissing his toes a few times before sucking on the largest. I’d never had a foot fetish, but with Him, it made my pussy clench.
“The problem with having a nasty slut like you clean me is I wind up dirtier than when I started.”
I moaned in apology and agreement before letting my tongue slip out to tease between his toes. He raised his foot, and I trailed kisses down the sole, then dragged my tongue back up. I repeated the process on his other foot, then slowly worked my way up his leg. I clung on, working my hands, breasts, and mouth over him, the coarse feel of his hair scraping my skin just enough.
As I neared his thighs, I spotted the trail of red lip marks I’d left. Normally, He marked us. Doing it to him felt scandalous, though I loved seeing my mark on him. He shifted his legs open a bit wider, leaving me easy access to his balls.
“May I, Master?” I asked, lightly rolling them in one hand.
He rose up a bit higher, exposing the pucker of his asshole to me. “You have to earn it, whore.”
I nodded, diving in and tonguing him with a groan of excitement. Even back here, I felt like he was cleaner than me, and I licked and sucked with gusto. Pressing hard, I swirled my tongue around his hole. This was a greater honor than most slaves would have in their entire lives. I’d imagined this day hundreds of times, even waking up drenched this morning to the thought of it. The dreams were nothing compared to the reality.
I heard him moaning above me, and his breathing quickened slightly. I shifted my head, and my cheek brushed his shaft. I felt a warm, sticky bead rolling down there. With another moan, I slid away from his asshole and kissed the drop of precum. I let it sit on my tongue, savoring the flavor.
“Go ahead,” he said, nodding to me.
I slipped back down to his balls, taking a deep whiff of his clean, masculine scent, before slowly working my way up, kissing over every inch. I followed the thick vein on the underside of his curve, feeling it pulse as I got closer and closer to the head. I carefully put a ring of kisses all around it before teasing the tip of my tongue against the tip of his cock.
He groaned again, hips bucking slightly, putting just the tip past my lips. I reached down, lightly squeezing his full balls in one hand while the other stroked the base of his shaft and held him steady. I started bobbing my head in time, taking him a bit deeper on each stroke. I’d practiced this dozens of times, every slave owned at least one dildo molded after our Owner. But the flavor, and the hot, living pulse, of the real thing was like nothing I’d ever experienced—the rich, mellow taste of flesh, seasoned with the salty flair of precum. As I sank lower and lower, he put one hand on the back of my head, guiding me to speed up my pace. I gagged a little when he hit the back of my throat but kept going. Eventually, the hand tangled itself in my hair, and he forced me down to the root of his cock. He held me there as my throat convulsed around his cock, tears streaming from my eyes.
“If you’re as good with your mouth as you say you are, you’ll be able to make out with my balls while you deep throat my cock,” he said. He let me back up, not quite all the way, but enough to take a deep breath, then plunged me down again.
I let out a wet GLURK as he penetrated my throat, but I focused on his order. Eyes half-closed, I tried to stare up into his as my tongue peeked out from my lips, teasing his ball sack.
“Good girl,” he said, letting me up again, giving me a moment’s reprieve as a reward.
“Thank you, Master,” I panted. “I live to serve.”
J R Vincente 