I'm leaning against the makeshift alter, my ass tilted high towards my lover. I'm flipping through the Oxford English dictionary, as directed by the man behind me. Owen is my priest, this book is my bible.

He's sliding his thick cock in and out of my sodden slit, his thrusts hindering my research. He's forcing me to search for definitions in this gargantuan book. I'm holding a small magnifying glass in a desperate attempt to find the word "martyrdom."

We both know what it means but he insists I locate and read the definition. I'm struggling to find this gooddamed word and our movements become out of sync. I know what's coming and I wince in anticipation. The sound of the slap resonates in the room, bounces off the walls and flows out of the crack in the window.

The sting seeps slowly from my ass cheek and finally registers in my brain and a tear streams down my face. The tear is catharsis, a complete purging of our sins.

"Find martyrdom," My priest demands as he wiggles his cock into my ass.

I wince again. I listen as he offers today's sermon. I, with Owen's dick firmly planted in my ass, lick my trembling forefinger and turn the page over. He strikes my ass cheek again and shoves hard to reach the depths of my previously puckered hole. I feel my stomach tighten as I desperately flip pages. The sting subsides.

"Find it," he orders.

I flip faster then pinpoint it. Martyrdom.

"I refuse to read it, Father." I yell desperately.

I feel his body tighten and feel him cum deep into my ass. As he cums, he cries. Just like every time we fuck.

We nap and I dream. I am a plethora of contradictions all balled into female form with the lust and drive of a well hung, careless male. Poor me. I hear the echoes of a familiar tune in the midst of my multicolored vision. I feel invincible and incorrigible and I want to fuck. I don't mean your everyday average he's on top, plowing away to the not so subtle end. I mean force me to attention with a slap, bare hand on bare ass. Push me forward, so far in and down against the dictionary that I cannot breathe. I drool against its pages as I am smothering and when my head is lifted, pieces of the pages are stuck to the sides of my mouth.

Slide yourself in my pussy, whether I'm wet or not. Force me to be your lover, force me to know what you know. Make me learn, let me help you.

Cram yourself as far and as hard as you can inside me, grab hold to my hair and twirl it in your hands. I'm sucking in air as you pull my head back, far until I am uncomfortable, until one cannot tell where I begin and you end. You and I entwined, angry and eager. I feel your hands pawing at my breasts, pinching my nipples until tears well in my eyes. You like to see me cry, as you bite my neck, your tiny teeth sharp and mean against my tender skin.

You release my hair and head and I flop rag dollish back into my "dog fuck" position. You slip yourself out and find a new territory, cramming yourself in and I feel the sting. It eases away with every monstrous stroke, your hands heavy on my shoulders now pushing me towards you. You've tired of that place and dive back into what is natural. Is this natural? Why am I being fucked by God? My nipples pulsate in pain, throbbing in unison with my heartbeat. I lick the sides of my lips and chew the pieces of dictionary pages like bubblegum. I begin to eat my own flesh. I watch myself hang naked and inverted on the cross. A demon laps at my face and forces its forked tongue between my chapped, split lips. I am wet.

I am released from my sins.

The scent of sour breath wakes me.