"Please," he whispered, his cock now leaking against his stomach.
"Tell me what you want," I murmured against his skin. "Say it clearly. Confess to me."
"I want you to touch me," he said, voice trembling. "I want you inside me. I want... everything."
"Good boy," I praised, the words sending visible pleasure through him. "So honest. So brave. Do you remember the prayers your grandmother taught you?" I asked as one hand slid down to grasp his cock firmly, squeezing just enough to make him gasp.
His eyes, which had been heavy-lidded with pleasure, flew open. "What?"
"The prayers," I repeated, stroking him slowly. "Recite one for me."
His breath caught, his eyes widening. I was asking him to blaspheme, to merge his religious conditioning with the carnal acts we performed. To destroy the last barrier between sacred and profane in his mind.
"Our Father," he began shakily as my hand continued its motion, "who art in heaven..."
The other hand reached for the oil I'd placed nearby, an ancient blend of sacred oils once used to anoint kings now repurposed for unholy communion. Frankincense and myrrh filled the air as my slicked fingers circled his entrance.
"Hallowed be thy name," he continued, his voice breaking as my finger pressed inside him. He tensed, then relaxed as I found his prostate.
"Thy kingdom come," he gasped, hips rising to meet my hand. "Thy will be done..."
"On earth as it is in heaven," I finished for him when he lost the thread, adding a second finger inside him. "My will be done, Micah. My kingdom come."
Something broke within him at that moment. His final resistance collapsed—accepting me as god, father, lover in one. His eyes glazed in the same way they had during our first painting session.
"Daddy," he whispered, the word carrying layers of meaning that transcended mere sexual roleplay. "Please..."
"Sacrilege becomes sacrament in the right hands," I whispered against his ear as I added a third finger inside him. "Your body is now my altar, your pleasure my worship."
I worked him open methodically, watching with satisfaction as he surrendered completely. His cock jerked when I brushed his prostate, eyes half-closed. The power dynamics between us intensified with each movement of my fingers, his submission deepening with every gasp I drew from his lips.
I stood, maintaining eye contact as I unbuckled my belt. His gaze dropped to my hands, then back to my face, uncertainty and desire battling across his features. My zipper echoed in the silence. As I pushed down my pants and underwear, his eyes widened.
I stroked my cock slowly, proudly, watching his expression shift from uncertainty to awe. His lips parted, breath quickening as I showed him exactly what would soon claim him. The head glistened with pre-cum, catching the light as I stroked again.
"This feels different," he said, his voice soft with anticipation, his eyes never leaving my cock.
"It is different," I answered, slicking my cock with oil. "But pain is the price of transcendence. You know this already, don't you? Your grandmother taught you that suffering leads to salvation."
He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine as I knelt between his thighs.
As I pushed forward, his mouth fell open in a silent gasp. The tight heat of his body gripped me like a vise, and it took every ounce of my control not to thrust fully inside him in one brutal motion.
His back arched. Tears welled in his eyes. His fingers clutched at my shoulders, nails digging into my skin. A sound escaped his throat, something between a sob and a moan. His body tensed around my cock, then gradually relaxed as I pushed deeper.Micah’s legs wrapped around my waist, his arms around my neck, clinging to me like a drowning man to salvation.
"Look at me," I commanded again when he tried to close his eyes, stilling.
He forced his eyes open.
"You're perfect," I murmured, then withdrew almost completely before pushing back in. His mouth fell open, jaw quivering. I found a steady rhythm, hard and fast, just short of punishing. The tight heat around my cock was exquisite.
I angled my hips to hit his prostate, rewarded by his sharp intake of breath each time I found the spot. "So perfect for me. Your ass was made for my cock, just like your mind was made for my guidance, your soul for my keeping."
The praise unravelled him. He moved with me, taking me deeper, our rhythm both primal and precise. The shadow inside him emerged fully, meeting my darkness without reservation, twining with it until separation seemed impossible.
"Say it," I demanded as I thrust deeper. "Who am I to you? What am I to you?"
"My god," he gasped, the blasphemy tumbling from his lips without hesitation now. "My Daddy. My everything."
