The preacher at the podium screamed the word into his microphone, making it reverberate through the enormous, brightly lit sanctuary of the megachurch, in which hundreds of congregants were gathered for Sunday services. Like the other churchgoers, Goddess Marquesa was startled.

Her surprise intensified when she saw her own face appear on the giant LED screen mounted behind the preacher, which until that moment had been projecting placid images of wide prairies and sunny shorelines. Looking at the ceiling toward the front of the large auditorium, she saw the remote-controlled camera that had surreptitiously been trained on her. It had caught her in an upper-torso focus, so that the assembly got to take in the blond locks, emerald eyes, classic features and voluptuous breasts that gave her such seductive appeal.

“We have a harlot among us!” the preacher repeated, pointing toward Goddess Marquesa’s seat. The strangers around her twisted heads and craned necks to get a close-up look at her.

“All of you know our Director of AV Technology, Harold Patterson,” the preacher declared, his tone softening. As he spoke, a middle-aged man walked forward from a screened area at the back of the large dais from which the preacher spoke. Goddess Marquesa recognized him as her recent devotee, Harold, at whose invitation she had come to this church service today. She rolled her eyes as she realized the nature of the set-up to which she was now being subjected.

Harold was wearing the headset that he used as head AV technician, but tears were streaming down his face, and he trembled as he walked forward. The preacher extended a welcoming hand, urging Harold to come forward. “You have been led into the ways of sin, brother. But God is merciful. He is always ready to forgive!”

Harold fell to his knees at the preacher’s feet, hands clasped in supplication. “Save me!” he cried, his voice choked in tears.

The preacher placed a consoling hand on Harold’s head and faced the congregation. “Several months ago our brother Harold fell under the influence of this woman,” on these words the preacher pointed again with his free hand, “who calls herself ‘Goddess Marquesa’…”

The preacher paused here to allow the congregation to react. A noise rose up that was halfway between a groan and a hiss, registering the assembly’s collective shock and hostility. Goddess Marquesa rolled her eyes again. This was good theater. She knew, because she had produced much of her own, though of a different kind.

“She seduced him with the temptations of the flesh!” the preacher continued, rising to his theme. “She made him believe he had been hypnotized!”

The noise from the congregation rose again, more intensely.

“But Harold saw the error of his ways. He could smell the brimstone reek of eternal damnation, and came to me for guidance!” the preacher declared.

“Hallelujah!” cried out a voice from the congregation, eliciting echoes of “Praise the Lord!” and “Thank Jesus!” from other corners of the assembly.

“Now with our help and the Lord’s, Brother Harold can come home to God! Pray with me brothers and sisters. Pray for the redemption of our brother’s soul.”

On these last words the preacher lowered his head in silent prayer, and the congregation followed his example. While the church assembly was thus engaged Goddess Marquesa stood up, drawing surreptitious eyes toward her curvaceous hips and shapely legs, and began making her way down the row in which she was seated, recognizing this as an opportune moment to make her escape. The trap had been cleverly planned, however. She had been seated in one of the front rows of the very large sanctuary-auditorium, so she had not even gotten halfway toward the exit when the silent prayer ended.

“I cast you out demon!” the preacher said as he looked up from his meditation, simultaneously pushing the top of Harold’s head with his hand. Harold yielded to its force, falling backwards and fainting flat from religious passion, as if a demon had left him. This sent hands into the air in the congregation, and brought forth more cries of “Hallelujah!” and “Praise the Lord!”

“Our brother is free from sin, harlot!” the preacher cried, directing his words towards the retreating Goddess. She did not favor him with a backwards glance.

“I would offer you the same salvation,” the preacher continued, “but I can see that you have hardened your heart against the Lord! Go, then! Go and plague this holy assembly no more!”

Goddess Marquesa reached the big double doors at the end of the aisle nearest where she had been seated. Without pausing, she pushed through into the lobby space beyond, followed by the disapproving hisses and grumbles of the crowd. As the weighted door closed behind her, a young man in a smartly pressed blue pastel suit strode up to her, with the air of someone who had been expecting her.

“Ms. Marquesa,” the young man said, his tone deferential, “I am Darryl Jones,  Pastor Ryan’s secretary. He asked me to escort you to his private chapel.”

“Why would I be interested in any invitation from that man?” Goddess Marquesa asked nonchalantly.

“He anticipated that you might be offended,” the young secretary rejoined, “but he would like to make amends. He says that if you will grant him an audience, he will treat it as a great personal favor and owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“He is worried that I might sue him,” Goddess Marquesa noted with wry scorn.

Darryl Jones shrugged his shoulders and held out his hands palms-up in a gesture of confession. “As a fellow media personality you must understand Pastor Ryan’s motives,” he said. “He asks that you give him a chance to negotiate before you take any rash action.”

Goddess Marquesa chuckled softly. Since coming to this church she had been vaguely bored, then mildly irritated, but now she was curious. “What the hell?” she said, deliberately flustering the young pastel-clad secretary.

Jones led the Goddess down a hallway off to the right of the lobby, and after several turns they came to a glass door at the back of the large building, which opened out onto a pleasantly landscaped garden. A path led from the door out to a small building, adorned by a cross and nestled in a copse of shady palm trees. Holding the door courteously, Jones gestured for Goddess Marquesa to follow the path. When they reached the small chapel the young man produced a brass key and opened the front door. Stepping inside, Goddess Marquesa entered what looked as much like a lounge or den as a place of worship. An altar and cross was set up at one end of the small space, but the rest of it was occupied by comfortable couches, plush chairs, and a wet bar set up in a far corner away from the altar. Bookshelves along one wall held leather-covered volumes and displayed trophies and curios. The bare wall space was hung with framed diplomas, photos, and certificates of award or appreciation.

“Please make yourself comfortable,” Darryl Jones said, indicating the whole space with a sweeping gesture. “Pastor Ryan will be with you directly after the conclusion of the service.”

When the young man had left, Goddess Marquesa explored the room. The books on the shelves were what you would expect: bibles and works of theology. Two books were prominently displayed, covers-forward: The Seduction of Spirituality and Tempting the Soul, both by Pastor Christopher Ryan. The cover art of the first book depicted Mary Magdalene anointing Jesus’s feet. The second book was graced by a painting of Jesus preaching to the Samaritan woman at the well. Picking up the first title to examine it, Goddess Marquesa found advertising blurbs on the back declaring “10 weeks on the NY Times best-seller list” and “#1 Selling Book for Faith and Spirituality on Amazon for 2017.” The author photo showed him standing with a pert young brunette, identified by caption as Charlene Ryan, whom Goddess Marquesa presumed to be his wife.

The rest of the décor was also intriguing. The Goddess did not recognize all of the figures standing with Pastor Ryan in the framed photos on display, but she could make out Franklin Graham in one, Stephen Baldwin in another, and Larry King in yet another. Harold had not been lying when he said that his pastor was “kind of a big deal.”

Goddess Marquesa had been exploring for about 10 minutes when she heard a key turning in the lock of the chapel door, and Pastor Ryan entered. “Mistress Marquesa,” the Pastor said, extending his hand in greeting as he closed the door behind himself, “I am so glad you accepted my invitation.” He smiled broadly, showing off immaculately white teeth. In person Ryan resembled his publicity photos- tall, tan, broad-shouldered and well-muscled. Blue eyes and blond hair cropped short in a severe, military-style cut. Under other circumstances the Goddess might have found him quite attractive.

The Goddess shook Ryan’s offered hand and sat on the couch toward which he gestured, ready to take in his pitch. “May I offer you any refreshments?” he asked, pointing to a small refrigerator tucked behind the bar to the rear of the chapel. “I have sparkling water, juice. There might even be a beer or some white wine.” This last sentence was said with a conspiratorial wink.

“No thank you,” the Goddess answered drily. “If you don’t mind, I would like to keep this brief. I do have a busy day planned.”

“Of course,” Ryan replied contritely. There was a chair directly across from the spot where the Goddess had sat down, but Ryan smoothly positioned himself right next to her on the same couch. “Darryl told me that you guessed why I asked to meet you. I want first to apologize for springing my little surprise on you…”

“It takes more than that to surprise me,” Goddess Marquesa interrupted. “I have seen my share of snake oil sold in my time.”
Ryan bit his lip abashedly, but his good humor did not abate. “I’m glad,” he said, “still…I hope you will accept my apology. And…” he continued, drawing out the conjunction, “I hope that you will tell me how I might compensate you for any discomfort or distress I caused. Any at all.”

Goddess Marquesa smiled, letting the words hang in the air for a few moments. “You really are in the right line of work, aren’t you?” she noted.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he replied. “I like to think that I’ve found my calling. But you haven’t answered my question. Please name a figure, and if it is within reason I am more than happy to pay. You helped me save souls today, albeit indirectly.”

This made the Goddess laugh. Loudly. When the laughter subsided, she said, “Keep your money- I wouldn’t want it. I have no intention to sue you.”

To his credit, this did not seem to surprise Ryan. “From Harold’s description of you I anticipated that this would be your reaction. Still…I wish that there was some way I could make amends…”

On these last words, Ryan reached out and placed his right hand on Goddess Marquesa’s thigh. It was not a threatening or violent gesture, but it left little doubt about his desire. Goddess Marquesa could not help raising her eyebrows in surprise.

“I made that snake oil crack before to goad you,” she said, her tone calm, “but I can see that I spoke more truly than I guessed.”

“You misjudge me,” Ryan replied plaintively, but without removing his hand from the Goddess’s thigh. “I am a sinner, it is true. But my faith is sincere. In my first book…”

The Seduction of Spirituality,” Goddess Marquesa interrupted, her voice conveying a moment of realization.

“….yes, that’s right. Very observant of you. In that book, I discuss the ways in which our material yearnings can never truly be escaped, only redirected toward the adoration of God…”

“A task at which you have never fully succeeded,” quipped Goddess Marquesa, “though I’m sure one can search the index of your book in vain for that fact.”

This made Ryan cough. “Yes….well….,” he stammered, blood rising to his cheeks, “you do see much. Perhaps those stunning emerald eyes of yours are genuinely magic. I have strayed many times, it is true, until now always with members of the congregation. I have found that even sin can lead to a higher spirituality…”

“And members of the congregation have almost as much to lose from indiscretion as you…especially the married ones,” the Goddess intoned harshly.

This time Ryan laughed. “You brook no excuses. Yes, perhaps I acted as much out of caution as piety. But in this case I find I can’t cling to safety. You are simply too irresistibly charming. I hope I can win you to the fold.”

“Wait a minute,” the Goddess interjected. “Are you hitting on me or proselytizing me?”

“Both,” Ryan said, his pupils dilating with desire, “I want you body and spirit. I meant what I wrote in The Seduction of Spirituality quite literally: our carnal lusts can lead us on the path back to God. Be my lover. Become a member of my church. Perhaps eventually, when we are both ready to ask God for forgiveness, you can join me on the pulpit, as an assistant pastor. You obviously have great charisma.”

Goddess Marquesa laughed again, long and heartily. This excited Ryan even more, he leaned closer so that he could feel the Goddess’s breath against his face. He moved his hand slowly back and forth, stroking the smooth surface of Goddess Marquesa’s thigh. A rigid tent formed in the crotch of his slacks.

you plan to seduce Me?” Goddess Marquesa asked, her tone expressing disbelief.

“Yes,” Ryan replied breathily, “Both physically and spiritually. I will taste your flesh and save your soul for God.”

“Forgive me, Pastor,” Goddess Marquesa said, dripping sarcasm, “but just who do you think you are? Who do you imagine you are dealing with?”

“I am sure you are quite formidable,” Ryan explained, his breathing becoming shallow. “I can feel your allure working on me even now. But you underestimate me. My faith makes my will stronger than yours. You may doubt now, but when I have filled you with the ecstasy of the spirit you will understand.”

“Have you heard the words chutzpah? Hubris?” Goddess Marquesa asked, chuckling as she shook her head in bemusement.

“But Marquesa,” Ryan countered, grinning confidently, “We’ve already had a test of which of us is more powerful. You tried to claim Harold Patterson, but in the end my seduction of the spirit was stronger. The people in my orbit stay in my orbit. If one of us is over-proud, it is you. Look around you. This empire wasn’t built on nothing.”

Goddess Marquesa’s eyes narrowed. Her voice dropping almost to a whisper, she breathed, “I was going to walk away, put this whole episode behind me and never think on it again. But you decided to kick the hornets nest. Play with fire.”

Ryan laughed again, more nervously this time. “Does this mean you will accept my proposition?”

“I accept no propositions from you,” Goddess Marquesa said. “But if you are asking whether I am ready to see which one of us can seduce the other…yes I am. Prepare to be schooled….”

With lighting speed, Goddess Marquesa’s right hand shot out and closed around Ryan’s crotch, snaring his engorged cock and balls in the nimble mesh of her sharply lacquered nails. Ryan gasped in mixed surprise, pleasure, and anguish. He spasmed as all his muscles tautened spontaneously, but his eyes never left the Goddess’s face nor his hand her thigh.

“Now, for your first lesson,” Goddess Marquesa instructed, “you must learn the correct posture when in My presence.”

With shocking strength the Goddess twisted her right hand, driving Ryan leftward. He listed involuntary and slid over the edge of the couch. As the Goddess’s hand unclenched from his balls he fell, folding onto himself like a lawn chair until he landed on the floor, facing Goddess Marquesa on his knees.

“That’s better, pet,” the Goddess cooed with satisfaction as she stood up to tower over the stunned preacher. As he knelt, dazed, she cupped the back of his head with her left hand and slapped his face with her right. “Heel, boy!….”



Several weeks later, Ryan approached the pulpit to give his Sunday sermon. The service had been in full swing for almost an hour and the energy was good. The choir had just delivered a rousing rendition of “Old Time Religion,” and the congregation was ready for the tone to mellow and then build again through Ryan’s sermon. Attendance was up. The word was out that Pastor Ryan had caught fire of late. His recent services had been buoyant, jubilant, as if he was channeling the Holy Spirit itself.


It had not come from the podium. Ryan had been about to speak into his microphone when the word resounded from the giant screen behind him.

“Harlot!” a woman’s voice shouted again. Stunned murmurs flew around the hushed auditorium.

Ryan looked up to see Goddess Marquesa’s face, caught in tight focus, staring down at him from the giant screen.

“What?” Ryan grunted, taken completely off guard. “What is this? Harold?!” Ryan shaded his eyes with one hand and scanned for his AV chief, who should have been at the controls in a screened booth at the back of the auditorium.

“Harold is here with me,” Goddess Marquesa said. From offscreen a man’s voice shouted, “I must obey Goddess!”

“He has rigged the AV system to give me remote control of the screen from here at home,” the Goddess explained. “He has also provided me with a two-way camera link so I can enjoy the look on your face, pet.”

“Security! Security!” Ryan shouted, calling to the retired police officers that he kept on staff for just such an occasion. “Shut it down! Break into Harold’s booth if you have to.”

“Oh, I’ve thought of that,” Goddess Marquesa intoned. “Harold assures me that only another AV engineer will be able to figure out how to sever the connection he established, and by the time even he or she figures it out we will be done here.”

“What do you want?” Ryan asked petulantly.

“Just to show your congregants a little bit of what you have been up to. The real meaning of The Seduction of Spirituality,” the Goddess explained.


The screen cut to a scene of Ryan and one of his female congregants, seated in chairs in front of the desk in his pastoral office next to the main sanctuary.


A murmur rose from the assembly: they recognized the woman on screen as Alice Henry, a Trustee and lay deacon who right now was seated on the dais among the church elders.


As real-time Alice and the rest of the congregation watched, screen-Alice lunged in an attempt to wrap her arms around screen-Ryan.

“I love you!” screen-Alice pleaded. “The things we’ve done. The ecstasy we’ve known….I can’t live without it…”

“I know sister, I feel the temptation too…,” screen-Ryan answered, rebuffing Alice’s embrace with an upraised hand. “But we must be strong. We have sinned, but we may seek redemption in the Lord. Let us turn our love into something chaste…something holy. I can sin with you no more…”


The screen cut back to Goddess Marquesa in live time. Murmurs of pain and disapproval circled the crowd. In her seat on the dais, Alice Henry threw her face into her hands and sobbed softly.

“It is true!” Ryan spoke into the mic. “I can’t deny it, brothers and sisters. I strayed.” Ryan’s voice broke, the contrition in his tone was profound. The mood in the room shifted from disapproval to sympathy.  “But like you I have been betrayed. Our brother Harold spied on me. He placed a camera into my office to catch me in my weakness but you can see….I was struggling to return to the Lord’s grace.”

“Oh, it wasn’t Harold,” Goddess Marquesa said, a wicked smile lighting her face. “Any fool can set up a nanny cam.”


The screen cut back to a scene of the office. Goddess Marquesa was seated on the Pastor’s desk, wearing a severely short skirt, her shapely nylon-clad legs crossed, stretched out in full view, the high-heeled shoe on her right foot resting on one of the chairs set in front of the desk. To the right of the frame could be seen the figure of Darryl Jones, kneeling, his hands clasped in supplication.

“Please Goddess,” he gasped, his tone pleading, “I’ve done as you asked. The camera is ready. Please let me have what you promised.”

“All right, pet,” the Goddess answered, her voice pitched to convey that she was in a generous mood. “You may have your reward.”

With this permission Darryl eagerly took the Goddess’s dangling foot in a tender grasp, and placed his lips lovingly against the stocking peeking out from the top of her shoe.


“You see!” Ryan shouted, his composure slipping, as the screen once again showed Goddess Marquesa’s smiling face. “She is a kind of succubus! A witch! I tried to warn our brother Harold about her, and now her corruption spreads!”

My corruption?” Goddess Marquesa replied, laughing. “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! You are among the most corrupt men I have ever met, and that is saying something.”

“Baseless lies!” Ryan protested. “She is a deceiver!”

“The way you deceived poor Alice over there?” the Goddess asked. “You didn’t throw over Alice for God. You threw her over for Me!”


The screen switched back to a scene of Ryan’s office. This time Ryan was bent over face down on his desk, still wearing his come-to-meeting suit, but with his pants and underwear down around his ankles. Goddess Marquesa stood behind him, naked except for a black bustier, black stockings and garters, high heels, and a strap on dildo that was thrust deeply into the preacher’s ass as the Goddess pumped her hips rhythmically.

“Do you want me to stop?” screen-Goddess Marquesa asked the pinioned preacher.

“No please….don’t stop….it feels so good…,” screen-Ryan begged.


The scene cut away back to Goddess Marquesa in present time, smiling broadly.

“I…I…I…,” Ryan stammered, briefly nonplused. Rallying, he faced the congregation and Alice, and said, “I am weak, it’s true. I fell victim to this temptress. But it was God I betrayed, not Alice! The scene this witch just showed you happened long after I had found the strength to end the affair between Alice and me.” Pointing up at the screen, Ryan cried out passionately, tears leaking from his eyes, “I had set my heart on the straight and narrow when this Jezebel came along!”

“Ha!” Goddess Marquesa scoffed. “You forget that Darryl has access to your private chapel.”


The screen cut again to a scene of Ryan himself, alone on his knees in the middle of the small chapel in the garden. The view caught him in a head-and-torso focus, seen looking down from the cross above the altar. His hands clasped in prayer, screen-Ryan said, “Dear Lord, please give me strength. I thought I knew what I was getting into with Marquesa, but…her allure is so intoxicating. I am haunted by fantasies of her day and night. I try to resist but….it’s no use. My cock is constantly erect. I can’t even think of other women. Alice pales by comparison. I don’t think I could become erect for her now if I tried. I have to break it off with her….”


“You bastard!” Alice screamed. She had been crouched in her chair, holding her face in her hands from shame, but now she leapt to her feet and ran off the dais sobbing, throwing her prayer book at Ryan as she fled. The book struck Ryan in the shoulder and fell to the ground as the screen switched back to Goddess Marquesa.

“You demon!” Ryan shouted at the screen. Turning to the congregation, he held out his hands in a pleading gesture and cried, “Please, brothers and sisters! Try to understand. The harlot seduced me! She led me astray!”

“Why should they believe you when you lied to Alice?” the Goddess asked. “And when you have been so cagey about the ways in which you have been using their donations to your church.”

“More lies!” Ryan grunted. “Get thee behind me, Satan! You might have used your charms to get Harold or Darryl to spin fairy tales for you, but your wiles can’t bring down an honest man!”

“An honest man, maybe not,” Goddess Marquesa quipped. “But, you? Too easy. It is just a matter of knowing whom to ask.”


The scene on screen switched to Ryan’s chapel again, empty accept for his pretty young wife, Charlene. She was standing before the altar in prayer, her hands clasped so tightly that her knuckles were white. Looking up unwittingly at the camera, she pleaded, “Lord give me strength. I must resist her. I must. But these feelings she arouses in me… They are so powerful. I’ve never felt such excitement….such pleasure…I’ve never been so drawn to someone. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out…”

            As the young woman spoke, the door to the chapel behind her opened silently. Charlene did not notice as Goddess Marquesa walked up behind her, unaware that she was not alone until an elegantly formed hand reached from behind Charlene’s back and began fondling the brunette’s right breast. The preacher’s wife gasped in surprised ecstasy and tensed momentarily, only to surrender in the next moment as if to irresistible temptation. Relaxing, Charlene allowed herself to collapse backwards into Goddess Marquesa’s arms. With whispers of “Yes…yes…oh, yesss…” the preacher’s wife yielded up her mouth to receive the Goddess’s deep kiss.

“More witchcraft!” Ryan yelled, his face turning red with shame and anger. “Charlene may have succumbed to your spell like the rest of us, but she would never slander me! She couldn’t!”

“I know what you are thinking,” said the Goddess, whose visage was once again upon the big screen. “Charlene would have as much to lose as you if the extent of your secret bank accounts was ever made public. But I was able to persuade her that it was worth it.”


The scene on screen switched again. It was back in Ryan’s private “chapel,” but this time filmed from a different angle. A young woman in a leather mask was stretched out naked on one of the long couches, her legs bent and splayed, her pelvis tilted upward. Ryan was standing naked, bent down over the end of the couch, his head between the young woman’s legs. Goddess Marquesa was seated behind him, wearing a brightly patterned yellow and orange sun dress and red high-heels, her right hand reaching from behind between Ryan’s legs. A loud buzzing could be heard, as well as wet sounds reminiscent of a dog lapping at its water dish.

            Ryan lifted his head to gasp for air, his face covered with the juices of the masked woman’s arousal. When he did, Goddess Marquesa pulled her hand back from between his legs, revealing that it contained a vibrating plastic egg that had been lodged at the juncture between his cock and balls.

            “Keep working, pet!” Goddess Marquesa commanded. “I will only make you cum when you make my slave girl cum. You know I can play your body like a fiddle.”

            “Yes, Mistress!” Ryan agreed.

            “Whom do you love?” the Goddess demanded, still holding back the vibrator.

            “You, Mistress!” Ryan cried.

            “Who else?”

            “No one, Mistress!”

            “Not your wife, Charlene?”

            “No Mistress!” Ryan shouted, “she has never meant anything to me! I love You and only You! I would kill Charlene if You asked me to!”


The screen switched back to Goddess Marquesa in present-time. She laughed and said, “Amazing that you didn’t recognize your wife even while you were eating her pussy! Foiled by your own male laziness. What a shame.”

“Aaargh!” screamed Ryan, enraged. He looked among the church elders seated on the dais for Charlene, hoping to vent his fury.

“Oh, Charlene is not there with you,” Goddess Marquesa explained, understanding the object of Ryan’s search. “She slipped away during the hymns and is here with me now. She brought lots of interesting documents that I’m sure your board of trustees would like to see.”

“I want a divorce, Chris!” shouted a young woman’s voice from offscreen.

“Lies!” Ryan shouted, turning to plead with the congregation, which had been agitated but now sat in stony, uncomprehending silence. “Listen to me brothers and sisters! You see this woman’s devilish power. She controls people’s minds. She hypnotized Charlene!”

Goddess Marquesa laughed musically. “How can you ask these people to believe you?” she intoned. “Everything about you is a lie. Even your faith.”

“That is not true!” Ryan screamed. “I have strayed, but I have never forsworn the Lord!”

A wickedly knowing smile lit the Goddess’s enchanting face. “Can you already have forgotten the romantic limousine ride we took along the coast two nights ago?” she asked. “You were so focused on Me that you never realized that our driver was Harold. He really is a talented AV engineer.”


The screen cut to the back of a stretch limousine. Goddess Marquesa wore a short, fitted gold lame dress and a white fur stole. Her magnificent legs were sheathed in glittered hose, her feet in gold-plated stilettos.  Ryan knelt on the floor of the limo facing her, and held her right hand in both of his, his demeanor beseeching.

            “Please, Marquesa, I beg you to marry me. I’ll get rid of Charlene- I don’t care what it costs me in alimony. I’ve never needed anyone like I need you.” Here Ryan kissed the Goddess’s hand, and continued to do so, speaking each sentence between passionate kisses: “You are my beautiful tyrant [kiss]. You rule my world with a sweetly iron hand and make it into the Garden of Eden [kiss]. You’ve shown me pleasures I never imagined, ecstasies I could scarcely conceive of [kiss]. I would give anything to be with you always.”

            “Answer me a question, then,” Goddess Marquesa said icily, “Who am I?”

            “You are my Mistress,” Ryan replied.

            Goddess Marquesa, moving with blinding speed, slapped Ryan forcefully with her left hand. “Who am I?” she repeated “Speak My true Name if you want any hope of being Mine.”

            “You are my Goddess!” Ryan confessed.

            “And what do you do for Me?” asked the Goddess.

            “I love You!” Ryan cried, his voice cracking.

            Again, slap! “Fool! Say the words! What do you do for Me?”

            “I worship You!” Ryan admitted. “Oh, Goddess, I worship You! I pray to You with my body and soul!”

            “And is there anyone you pray to before Me?” the Goddess asked.

            “No!” Ryan screamed, his face turning red as the dam broke, “There is no God! Only You, Goddess! There is only You!”


The scene on the screen froze.

Screams echoed in the auditorium. Several parishioners fainted. Cries of “Blasphemy!” “Heretic!” and “Satan!” rang out. Ryan faced his flock as the screen once again returned to the smiling visage of Goddess Marquesa. The preacher’s eyes were as wide as saucers, manic foam flecked his lips and chin. “Brothers and sisters!” he croaked, “you must believe me! This woman bewitched me! Hypnotized me! I would never have spoken such filth otherwise!”

“Think carefully, pet,” Goddess Marquesa spoke down from the screen. “The excuse of hypnosis might win you forgiveness now, but what will it cost you in trust? Do you really want to see what I can do to your congregation if they believe that I truly have that kind of power?”

“What do you mean?” Ryan asked, panting as adrenaline brought his breath up short.

“I mean that though you know you are lying about why you did and said those things, unbeknownst to you, I did hypnotize you- only once! It was two nights ago, in the limo, after you had forsworn your faith. You don’t remember it, because it worked like a charm.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Ryan bluffed, calling upon the last of his theatrical skills, thinking that he had little left to lose. “The Lord is my Rock and my Redeemer.”

This moment of defiance actually calmed the assembly. A hush descended as the parishioners waited, curious to see what would happen next.

Goddess Marquesa ignored Ryan’s empty bravado. Smiling disarmingly, so that her beautiful features were made even more breathtaking, she addressed the crowd. “You see, friends, I planted what is called a post-hypnotic suggestion in Pastor Ryan’s mind.  When I speak a key phrase to him, he will be powerless to resist my programming.”

Turning her gaze back toward Ryan, the Goddess pursed her lips enticingly and said two words: “Worship me.”

For several seconds nothing happened. Ryan stood frozen, staring up at the screen, mouth open but making no sound. A pin dropping could be heard in the auditorium. Finally, Ryan began to tremble, gently at first but then more violently, as if he were struggling to control his limbs.

“No…” he said in a high-pitched whine. “Please no, Goddess! Don’t make me do it. Let me stop. Let me….let me….”As he begged, his hands worked of their own volition, unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants down around his ankles, then peeling his boxer shorts away from his massively engorged cock. A few screams and retching noises  resonated from the crowd, but mostly the auditorium sat in mute shock as Ryan fell to his knees and began to masturbate, staring up lovingly at Goddess Marquesa’s visage, transfixed.

“You see what I can do with my voice,” Goddess Marquesa explained. “Those of you who would like to experience it, simply listen and relax. I will hypnotize you now…”

At these words panic broke out in the auditorium. Families body-checked one another in the effort to free themselves from the aisles, thick columns of jostling bodies streamed through the exit doors at the back, tumbling into the lobby and breaking helter-skelter for the parking lot beyond. As the pandemonium unfolded, Goddess Marquesa continued her peroration…

“…Of course, those of you who object to being hypnotized should leave, and never come back. I will be using my access to this building’s electronics system to insinuate hypnotic messages now and again. And subliminally, of course, into the syndicated telecasts of the Church’s services…”

Goddess Marquesa took a sip from the water glass set next to her at her work station at home as she watched the chaos play out across her computer screen. Darryl was standing by with a pitcher and topped it off right away, while Charlene continued to massage the Goddess’s shoulders lovingly. From the kitchen Harold could be heard preparing sandwiches for lunch. It had been a good morning’s work for Team Revenge.

As the last of the panicked parishioners streamed out of the sanctuary, Ryan orgasmed, screaming “Oh Goddess….Goddess….I love You Goddess!” while thick ropes of cum sprayed from his cock. He trembled, then was still. Briefly his eyes closed, but opened once more as his wilted cock stiffened again and his hand drifted involuntarily back toward his shaft.

“Goddess…please….,” he begged, “…please let me stop. Don’t make me do it again.”

“Goddess is busy, pet,” Goddess Marquesa declared, “keep saying your prayers.”

While Ryan resumed his fevered stroking, the Goddess surveyed the auditorium. As she expected, a few dozen parishioners, mostly single men but some women and even two or three couples, were still seated, staring up at the screen expectantly.

“All right, sweetlings,” the Goddess began, “let’s get started. Relax and focus on My voice…..”




The End