Black silk slipped between her cupped fist top to bottom, rippling against the white button-lined cloth. “You look so..convincing this way.” Her other hand toyed with the tiny plastic circles concealing the torso beneath. “So pure.” Her mouth cocked at one corner as she tugged the tie toward herself. His neck and head were forced to follow suit.
He wanted control in that moment. He wanted to grab her, throw her down, strip her bare and take every repressed frustration from his former life out on her body. But he didn’t. The ultimate display of abstention. A good little Christian’s forte—self control. The disciplined student. He knew what she was doing, what she wanted. “I can’t believe you made me wear this.” Her bony under-surface dug into him uncomfortably, causing a slight ache in his left hip that matched the ache in his groin, but he didn’t flinch, he just laid there, savoring the mild irritation, relishing in the heat emitting from the apex between her thighs and the pressure of her body on top of him.
She felt him, the beginning of what she wanted growing and hardening below an obstruction of pants. “Why? Don’t you think it’s dirty?” Her hips pressed into him further until he couldn’t help but readjust, pushing his cock against her through his black slacks; the final touch for a devout uniform—his canonical costume—the modest vestments that robbed him of any exterior expression in youth.
“Yeah, it is, but it kind of takes me back to that place, and that’s not a place I like to be, you know?”
She let the tie fall from her hand and it flattened against him, smothering the buttons. “I do, yeah. But, that’s what I’m here for.” Her hands moved to her own body, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of a simple pleated navy skirt. They pinched at the collared top, not so unlike his own, and pulled the hem from its tucked confinements. She began at the bottom, freeing each button in succession until stomach and rib cage were exposed—a pale backdrop, lambent behind the white frame of her blouse, opening to the show waiting to commence.
“What do you mean?” A perfect combination of confusion and curiosity formed his expression as he observed her removing her shirt.
“To give you a different perspective, a different way to..cope, with how we were raised. I know it’s harder for you, it was way more extreme, more involved, it took longer, you were indoctrinated. All of those things. That’s exactly why I wanted to do this,” her hips worked into him a second time and again he shifted, “exactly why I wanted you dressed this way, why I dressed this way. I want to sour their little synagogue. Don’t you?” His discomfort was visible–she lifted up the smallest amount to relieve him.
“When you think about that oppressive, inflexible, castigating cult you came from, I want you to think about this. Think about what they would say if they could see you now—if they knew what you were about to do, what was about to happen to you.” She took his hands from his sides, knowing they felt idle, knowing they wanted to indulge and explore, fulfilling the good Devil’s work, and placed them on her body where her shirt remained sealed. “Undress me.” Her skin was on fire but when his fingertips brushed against her it felt like ice spreading across her and numbing her entirely, freezing her in place—it shivered up her spine and formed a cube inside of her, shattering her mind and melting into a pool of molten hot liquid in her cunt. “Fucking *touch* me.”
He undid the remaining closures, one by one, effortlessly like a master of his craft until her blouse was splayed open, uncovering the bantam mounds beneath that were still hidden by a thin layer of black lace. A corner slipped over her shoulder, dragging the other side with it where it bunched at her elbows and lower back. She shrugged it the rest of the way off and it fell behind her against his thighs before being tossed aside. It wouldn’t be of any use to her for quite a while. Her chest rose and fell in accelerated breaths while his hands roamed her body between hip and neck, covering the greatest amount of surface area with the smallest amount of effort. He hooked a finger over the top of her bra and ran it along the lining, feeling both the material and the softness of her skin simultaneously before pulling it downward, exposing the light pink breast underneath.
“And what’s about to happen to me?” His palm flattened and covered its surface, closing over it and squeezing it, his right hand moving up to free the other. He pinched at the metal running through each nipple, twisting them in circles, tugging them outward, up, down, back and forth, every which way he wanted until they were swollen and erect between his fingers. Her body writhed, grinding in little circles onto him, moaning lowly under panting sips of air.
“I’m going to fuck you. And then you’re going to fuck me. Our very own Gifts of the Spirit to one another in the proper attire.” Her hands moved to his, caging the tops and pressing them harder against her breasts in rotations that were equal to the rhythmic motion of her hips. “Every time you picture yourself living that existence in misery, hiding the nature of the erotic God that you are, for the glorification of another who wants to extinguish that exceptional sexuality of yours, you’re going to think of us, here, right now, at the beginning of what is to become a lifetime of intentional sin and pleasure. Two souls liberated from a life of spiritual supervision, now coupled in a perfect nefarious union. A blasphemous blending of bodies. Immorally intimate.”
Her hands moved back to his tie. It felt familiar now in her grasp and she easily loosened it, sliding it up over his head. She didn’t discard it though, but placed it over her own head, christening herself like a crown. It settled crookedly at the base of her neck, the length of it falling against the flat expanse between her tits. Her hands went to his shirt at the waistband. In one aggressive tug she yanked it free then began to unfasten five or six buttons, opening it, letting her fingertips trace the surface of skin around his naval. She stopped to unlatch his belt buckle, pulling it from the circumference of his waist and tossing it in the direction of her discarded top.
“Isn’t this what you want? To ruin their sanctity and reclaim what they took from you? To know you’re indulging in the ultimate fundamental human need they tried to make you ashamed of? Be a good little Witness and see how well I’m going to fuck you.” Her hands labored at the remaining buttons until his chest shown between the opening. She moved her palms over him, against his stomach, feeling it balk inwardly at the sensation. She ran them up his sides, again over his stomach tracing his naval once more, across his chest, feeling his own nipples hardening under them as hers did in the control of his fingers. She pressed the tips in, raking his skin gently with her nails and watching as it left red trails behind them. “Don’t you want to fuck me?”
For a moment he thought it cute, how genuinely concerned she seemed when asking that question, as if there were any real doubt that he wanted to fuck her. But that thought was clouded by her other words. It took him time to process the purpose behind them, to truly understand what she was saying. He’d spent so much time being angry, thinking his situation so unfair, and it was, but he was tired of lamenting his upbringing. That gave them the power over him still. With her he could reclaim strands of that absent ambition. They could lay waste to their clerical conditioning and celebrate their new agreement in a session of pure secular sensualism.
“You don’t know what I want to do to you.”
He focused on the sliver of fabric now around her neck, resting on her sternum. He thought about all of the mornings he’d spent putting it on, staring in the mirror at himself while he went through the motions—his daily ritual of putting on the mask. It looked much better on her he thought, as his right hand left her breast and went to the tie, entwining it in his grasp, not hesitating before tearing it downward and forward, taking her upper half with it. It allowed no time for reaction as her bare chest flattened into his, the metal and her nipples scraping across him, causing them both to harden further. He held her there, faces almost touching, the tie acting as both a collar and leash for the little pet dog that straddled him. She wanted nothing more than to put her mouth on him, to taste him, to consume his lips and suck them dry, eating past them, prying them open with her tongue which she would then use to coax his from its damp confinements to be teased and absorbed. He forced the tie down again and the image was now materializing before her, their lips sealed together in sloppy union.
In a matter of seconds time stood still, and she didn’t want to move. She just sat there, feeling the softness of his mouth against hers, appreciating the moment. All that broke the silence was their soft chorus of moans—the steady hum of pleasure that neither could suppress. Her tongue was in his mouth before she’d realized she put it there—invading him, coating the interior, restricting his in its own environment, dancing around it in circles before wrapping her lips around it and dragging it from its lair, peeling her mouth off of it, pulling back to leave it hanging out like a wanton animal, strings of drool still connecting them.
He looked so provocative in that minute—tongue lingering, uniform disheveled, pinned beneath her like a prisoner. A good Christian boy ready for his salivary baptism. She leaned down, suctioning his tongue once again into her mouth as more spit passed between them, aware of his hands moving along her body, up her sides, over her lower back to her shoulders and down. Groans slipped amid repeated kisses and her sentences came in hot, breathy whispers. “Then show me.”
His hands glided down each side of her back in succession, cupping at the curve of her hip, compressing and caressing her there before dropping down further to her ass where he did the same, gripping at the firmness evident through the material of her skirt, tenderizing her like a butcher softens his fares before devouring them.
He knew what she wanted, the fiery little beast before him, pinning him down, butting him with her horns, testing him. He knew what she was saying. He wanted it too. He was no longer arrested by religion. He’d set himself free long ago and was now happy to revile their former denominations any way he could. And what better way than their skewed form of adultery in the style of their rites. Him in his suit, his holy attire appropriate for service, and her in the uniform assigned by the deistic, malevolent institution that equally tried to condition her. His dominant hand slipped beneath the hem of her skirt and made contact with her outer thigh. He pressed the tips of his fingers into the soft skin there, massaging her, working his way up and over the top where he walked them cooly down the inside as his left hand still occupied her hip and ass.
She didn’t feel when his hand was cupping the mound of her cunt over her panties right away, she only knew she was suddenly on fire from the inside between her thighs. The sense of touch soon caught up and she involuntarily whimpered a moan into his mouth, vibrating his lips, forcing the evidence of his handiwork directly back into him. He breathed in her moans as if they were the last puffs of oxygen in the vast sea of emotions he was suddenly drowning in. It was all he ever wanted and all he ever feared in some challenging yet gratifying merger, and after countless hours of internal controversy, questioning his ethics, his morals, his own worth, he was confident in what he wanted. He wanted an equal. His female counterpart. An ally. A comrade sent from the cosmos that understood him in every way. More than that though. He wanted a physical companion. A bestial brother in arms. A lascivious lab partner. Someone to experiment and experience with unconditionally. He was ready for her. Ready to consummate their kindredship. Ready for sin.
His hand was already behind her, twisting into her, gripping curls of blonde and retracting her head downward, breaking their connection until her chin pointed upward. His body lifted halfway so that his mouth sat at the base of her neck. He observed the tract up to her mouth, pale and long, and began at the bottom, his tongue an exploratory instrument advancing in a perfect line to the underside of her chin, his lips following up with affectionate kisses in between, retreating back down to the collarbone, covering every inch until he had taken the path back up. “No.” He continued his combination of alternating licks and kisses on the same course, deviating to the sides of her neck and jawline. His fingers floated over the exterior of her panties fluidly, the extent of her arousal evident by the tacky moisture seeping from the cloth covering her pussy. He curled two under the rim, forcing the material aside where they slid effortlessly across her swollen lower lips, greasing themselves before slipping in, demanding verification of his doing.
He pulled his fingers from one entrance and inserted them into another, swirling them against her tongue, depositing her pre-cum back into the bodily source of its production.
Some sound came out of her—some mixture of pleasure and profanity mumbled from behind the two digits occupying her mouth. She circled them with her tongue, lapping them clean, sucking them, appreciating them, and once he was satisfied he withdrew. His voice, husky and casual, was suddenly in her ear.
“Be a good girl and earn it.”
He knew what she wanted—she wanted it too.
She pushed herself backward with her arms on either side of him until she was nestled between his thighs with her mouth at his crotch, ready for worship. With the belt already gone, she had the button undone and zipper down with little effort. The bulge beneath now more visible with its allotted freedom. She peeled the zipper down more, inch at a time, eyes fixated on the surprise she was about to receive. The waistband of his slacks were sliding down his thighs before he realized it was happening and he felt them stop at his knees. The thumb and index finger of her right hand slipped into the opening of his briefs until they was pinching at the protrusion. Her lips pursed and she planted a kiss directly on top of the thin material separating flesh from flesh.
If heaven did exist, they were in it. He was the Almighty, and she the angel sent to serve him.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/vqp1ch/rites_of_passage_mf