Scarlett
December 25th, 2022
Things were growing worse with each passing week. They kept getting closer and closer, and today?
I guess this was their present.
What better way to celebrate the birth of their God than to feel their semen running down my thighs, over my butt, across my back. What better way to celebrate than to feel their scratchy, horrible hands scraping over my skin.
Thomas always hated when they covered me in that stuff, but he had been watching lately, as if his version of taking out his anger was watching them do this to me.
It always took them longer these days too. When I was younger, these…sessions, they only lasted 20 or 30 minutes, but now?
It didn’t matter how much I stretched, how much I prepared, standing in one position this long always left me sore. So sore that I could barely walk.
But better me.
It was better that it was me.
Last month, there had been an influx of children to the church. They had been so excited. Kids so small, I could see their beautiful little faces when they ran by. No younger than four. Such light in their eyes, such beauty.
I had thought it so exciting that we finally had some kids running around. It made the church seem less like Hell and more…warm, but then…
Two weeks ago, Thomas did not take me to the Back Hall, but I did see Pastor Masters talking to a small group of those children which had left me feeling worried and something else. It was like a burning in the pit of my stomach, this new feeling. It felt familiar and wholly new at the same time.
A few years ago, I never would have worried about whether or not they were taking kids into the Back Hall, but now? So many things were changing. I’d like to believe they would never do such a thing, but there was no way to know for sure anymore. Not unless they spoke of it, and they were being very careful with the words they now used.
Anger and hatred ran through these people like the plague, and it was getting harder and harder for them to hide it. As if the demons they read about in the Good Book were now infecting them.
I knew what would happen if they were paired with a bad Pillar. A bad Leader. I wanted them to have a good life, and they wouldn’t get that if they remained here, especially with what was happening. I didn’t want them infected with demons too. I wanted them to be happy, to never lose those smiles or that laughter. I wanted them to fly away like the hummingbird I saw on the poster in my changing room. They deserved to be like that hummingbird.
But how long would that little laughter last if they remained here?
When the last Leader was finally done, Thomas allowed them all to clean up and leave before he forced me to a stand, pain erupting in my thighs, in my stomach, my arms, and across my spine. I hated it.
Being a Favorite was bearable up until that church burned down. Ever since then…
He led me back across the hall, gave me a bucket and a cloth, and I was to clean myself up and make myself look as good as new before we left the Back Hall.
Better me, I kept telling myself. Better me than them. It would always be better me than them.
The water he gave me was always so cold and there was never enough. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I could never rid myself of the feeling of their semen on my skin.
But at least I was still pure.
That’s all that mattered now. My purity.
It took twenty minutes alone just to brush out my hair. I didn’t add a braid this time, it was pointless. Adding a braid, wearing red, it was all aimless. It didn’t matter whose Favorite I was, it would all end the same.
Them penetrating me over and over again. All of them. Their semen inside of me. Stealing away every ounce of purity I had, splitting it between them all, their penises going into me over and over and over again.
It made me want to throw up.
Three and a half years and all Azrael was to Pastor Masters was a transporter. As far as I knew, he never requested to go to the Back Hall. He never pushed, but I was long since okay with it now.
Why would I want him standing with the others around me pulling on his penis until he orgasmed? His noises getting mixed in with theirs.
This was for the best. The imagination was a terrible, horrible place. It’s where I needed to stay. It’s where I had to stay until my last days.
