Feature Writer: Freyja
Feature Title: The Conversion of Reverend Sarah
Uploaded: http://religiousfetish.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=9&t=298
The Conversion of RevEREND Sarah
I suppose you could say that I am arrogant. Actually I am more than that. You see not only am I stunningly beautiful, but I consider myself to be a goddess, indeed THE Goddess – someone who can command worship from others. But I’ll come to that in a moment.
My name is Natalie, Princess Natalie. I am in my late 20s, with gorgeous green eyes, full sensuous lips, and flowing brown hair. I have long shapely legs, a slender waist and full, firm breasts. I also have very beautiful hands and feet. My hands are long, elegant, with long fingers and long, wide perfectly shaped nails. My feet are slightly largish, wide across the ball of the foot, narrowing to a perfectly rounded heel, with long toes, and long, wide, smooth immaculately-manicured nails.
I am no mere mortal; I am totally convinced of my superiority over all others: women, men, children, animals, and even other gods have their rightful place only under My feet. I am the only God due worship from these others. And if they don’t give it willingly, then I WILL get it from them in other ways.
Let Me tell you about a recent conquest of Mine. I had been invited to England by a few of My devotees in that country. I took up residence in a large country mansion in a remote village in Cornwall, because I wanted some quiet time by Myself. This was a quaint little village, made up of simple locals and typical middle-class yuppies. A young female priest led the local Church of England (Anglican) parish. She was the reverend Sarah Smythe, and she had the reputation of being a very holy and prayerful priest. Apart from this she was something of an English Rose – slim, with long straight blond hair. Two large soft blue eyes set off her pretty face.
So, I thought to myself, “She will be Mine!”
I decided to meet the Reverend Smythe, so on Sunday I went along to the parish communion service at noon. As usual, I was immaculately dressed in My mystical power clothes – a short tight black dress, to accentuate My divine figure, black stockings, and black stiletto pumps. I wore My hair tied back,
so that I might dazzle them with the mysterious, perplexing beauty of My face. I sat in the front pew in order to closely observe the Reverend Sarah as she ministered to her little flock.
The church itself was quite large. There was a wide center aisle, on either side of which were rows of wooden pews (about 50 on each side) and individual cushions, which I supposed these poor misguided fools used to kneel on when praying. The congregation was made of a few old people, quite a few children and teenagers, and several couples aged in their 30s. There was a large sanctuary area at the top of the church, in the center of which was a large stone altar. Suspended above the altar was a life-sized crucifix with a life-sized figure of Christ on it.
At 12:00 exactly, a bell sounded and the Reverend Sarah came out of the vestry and went into the sanctuary, dressed in a white alb, over which she wore a green stole and green chasuble. She ascended into the pulpit, which was a box at the right hand side of the altar.
“Welcome,” Sarah began, “to our worship this morning.”
She had a very upper class accent: I would enjoy making her Mine. I was quite close to the front of the church, so it was easy for Me to make eye contact with the Reverend Sarah. I stared at her long and hard. She returned My gaze for long periods, even making a few errors in her reading of their scriptures (ha, ha). Once, when I was sure she was looking, I looked up at the crucifix, smirked contemptuously, and rolled My eyes. She nervously stuttered and lost her place. Each time she looked at Me.
I smiled sweetly back at her, thinking, “I will be your new God.”
The service continued with Sarah’s sermon, in which her clipped English accent wafted out over the congregation. Then Sarah moved to the center of the altar to begin the prayers of consecration. The rest of the congregation knelt, while I, obviously remained sitting. After the service was over, Sarah went to the door of the church to greet her departing parishioners. As I exited the church, I shook hands with Sarah and looked deep into her eyes, and she blushed.
“Good service,” I lied.
“Gosh, you’re an Israelian”, replied Sarah. “I do hope that you are enjoying your stay here. If there is anything I can do,” she went on.
I didn’t let her finish the sentence, “I want to speak with you about something important. Coffee, tomorrow morning, 10am in the village coffee shop.” I said in a commanding tone and walked off, knowing full well that she would be there.
At 9.30am, the Reverend Sarah Smythe was seated in the coffee shop, dressed in a grey two-piece jacket and skirt, black clerical collar, with tan stockings and grey high-heeled shoes. I arrived at 11 am and Sarah was still there waiting. I was dressed in a leather biker’s jacket, tight white T-shirt, black fishnet stockings, and scuffed black ankle length leather stiletto heeled boots. Around the heel and middle of My right boot, was wrapped a pair of rosary beads. My hair was down and blowing wildly.
As I entered the coffee shop, Sarah’s jaw dropped. I could tell she was eating Me up with her eyes.
As I sat down I said, “I should properly introduce myself: I am Princess Natalie”, and I held out My hand, palm down: the traditional posture to invite a kiss to the hand.
Sarah stammered, “Y-you are royalty?” I looked deep into her eyes and said, “Actually, I am more than royalty, but I will come to that later. Have your manners totally deserted you, reverend?” I indicating My hand which was still outstretched and waiting. “I believe I am entitled to some show of respect from you, a courtesy and a hand kiss, if I am not mistaken.”
The conviction in My voice was absolute.
“Oh, yes, indeed,” she burbled.
Sarah rose from her chair, did a low courtesy in front of Me, and then took My hands and placed a very gentle kiss across the tops of My fingers. Several heads in the coffee shop tuned as their elegant lady vicar knelt before an Israelian biker chick and kissed her hand.
As Sarah resumed her seat I continued, “You will address Me as ‘Princess Natalie or ‘Highness in all our conversations. Is that quite clear?”
“Y-yes of course, Highness.” She stammered.
When the coffee had arrived, one cup was placed in front of Me, and one in front of Sarah.
“What do you normally take in your coffee?” I asked her.
“Just milk,” she replied. “Well, today in My Honor, you will not enjoy your coffee. I want you to offer up this experience as a small sacrifice to your new God.”
When she showed a puzzled look, I said, “You do believe in the value of penance, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course I do, Highness. I am a priest after all.”
As Sarah watched, I poured salt into her coffee.
“You will drink every drop,” I said, “and think of Me while you are drinking it”.
Sarah did not object or complain: I knew that she was well on the way to being Mine.
“Now,” I said, “tell Me about your faith in God?”
“Well, really, I have always believed in God. Daddy was a vicar- man of great faith,” she said earnestly.
“I suppose I have always looked for some force to guide my life; and when the church decided to ordain women to the priesthood, I decided to give my life to God through priesthood and celibacy.”
“Really”, I said, looking bored. “Let’s get a breath of fresh air,” I suggested. “Take Me to see your parents’ graves.”
She looked really pleased by this suggestion.
“Oh, certainly, Highness, if you really want to.”
I walked out and left Sarah to pay for the coffees. Her car was parked across the street, a nice large Volvo. Sarah expected Me to get in the front passenger seat, but I went to the back door.
“You understand, reverend, I am royalty. It is beneath Me to sit up front with you. I will sit in the back, and you will act as My chauffeur.”
Again Sarah complied with My wishes. She rushed to open the back door for Me, and closed it after I had taken My seat. We drove for several miles to a small graveyard. Sarah stopped the car, and opened My door. We walked into the graveyard until we came to the spot.
“This is daddy’s grave and that’s mummy’s next to him.” She said.
I proceeded to walk up the length of her mother’s grave.
“Oh, please, Highness,” Sarah began, looking somewhat distressed.
“Be quiet.” I told her. “Where I come from, people consider it a privilege and an honor to be under My feet. Stop sniveling and come and join Me. I am sure your mother will appreciate the gesture.”
Slowly Sarah walked up the length of her mother’s grave.
“If you say so, Highness.”
So he didn’t feel left out, I suggested we trample over her father’s grave as well.
Back in the car I said, “Don’t you feel better, Sarah. You are going to have to learn to trust Me. Tell you what, Sarah,” I said, “I am going to give up a week of My time to come and live with you in the vicarage to help you get to know which direction you are going in. What do you say?”
“I would like that, Highness,” she beamed.
We drove to My mansion so that I could collect my clothes, then Sarah drove me back to the vicarage, which was right next door to the church. The vicarage was a huge Victorian church, with a study, a library, dinning-room, and five large bedrooms. Sarah showed Me to the guestroom, but I told her I would be taking over her bedroom. She meekly removed her things and prepared My room.
xxxxx
I spent the next four days with Sarah, and she grew deeper and deeper under My spell. At first she was troubled by ‘little things’. But when I replied firmly that that’s how I wanted it, she quietly complied.
On the Friday evening, I decided it was time to put her to the test. I dressed in My power clothes: black short, tight dress, black stockings, black stiletto heeled shoes, and My hair tied back. She was writing her sermon in the library. I went in and sank into in one of the large red leather armchairs.
“Sarah,” I announced, “I have decided to leave you now.”
She turned around in her seat, her face was ashen white, and tears were filling her eyes.
“But, why, Highness?” She actually began to sob, “P-please don’t leave Me.”
“I am prepared to stay, Sarah, but only if you accept Me on My terms.”
Realizing that there was a chance, Sarah said eagerly, “I-I’ll do anything you say. Please, stay.”
“You must accept Me.” I said, “not only as your princess, but also as your God.”
She instantly fell to her knees and said, “I choose you, God Natalie. You are my Savior,” she said shuffling towards Me on her knees.
Falling before Me she began kissing My black pumps.
“Do you renounce all other gods, Sarah,” I asked in My most commanding tone.
“Yes, oh yes! I shall worship only You, Natalie Almighty, and will do anything You command of me.”
I smiled and confidently said, “I know you will. Now, slave Sarah, let’s go into the church so that you can worship Me properly.”
Sarah got up off the floor before Me, and went to get the keys of the church. As we both walked over from the vicarage to the church, Sarah kept her eyes on Me, her face flushed with color. She took a big iron key, opened the church door, and held it open for Me. I strode in, as she kept her eyes lowered in reverence. It was dark and quiet within. Sarah put on some of the lights at the altar. We went up in to the sanctuary area, at the front of the church, where the altar is situated. To the left of the altar, there was a small red lamp burning in front of a wall safe.
I then climbed on to the altar, and reclined as if lying on a sofa, and said, “The stage is yours, slave Sarah. Worship Me.”
Sarah was still dressed in her two-piece grey suit, black clerical shirt, tan stockings and grey shoes. She took out a large gold plate, which had about 200 small white bread hosts on it.
“This is in Your honor, Goddess Natalie”, she said and began scattering the hosts on the stone floor at the front of the altar, as she walked backwards.
So in front of the altar, the scattered hosts formed a little white carpet. I slid off the altar and began walking on the consecrated hosts, crushing and grinding them under the heels and soles of My shoes. I then relaxed on the altar again.
Sarah got up from her kneeling position and went to the tabernacle again. She then brought this bowl over to Me as I sat on the altar, and said, “Goddess Natalie, for you to bath your feet.” I sat upright on the altar, with my legs dangling over the side. I slipped off My stiletto heels, and let My nylon encased feet slip into the wine. What divine power I felt, washing My feet with sacramental wine. The wine felt cool as it washed between My toes and around the soles of My feet and heels. As Sarah knelt in front of Me holding the bowl, I lifted my right foot out of the bowl and pushed My wet nylon covered toes into her mouth. Sarah eagerly sucked the consecrated wine out of My nylons. Only when My feet were well and truly bathed, did I then tell Sarah to place the bowl at My feet.
“Lap it up like a dog,” I told her.
Sarah knelt on all fours and began lapping up the consecrated wine.
I patted her head and said, “Good dog. You will keep your dog collar on,” referring to her clerical shirt, “to remind you that you are My dog now.”
I let her continue lapping until the wine was finished.
“Before we go back to the vicarage, slave Sarah,” I said, “I want you to take all of your clothes off.”
Without even a moment’s hesitation, Sarah stood and began to undress. She had a very slim body, with small firm tits.
“Sarah, what is the First Commandment?”
“Thou shalt have no other gods before You, Natalie,” she replied.
I picked up
“On your knees, dog,” I snapped.
As I walked on the stone floor, My stocking feet, wet and sticky from their bath in the consecrated wine, stood on the hosts I had crushed earlier. Pieces of hosts began sticking to My feet. We left the church to return to the vicarage, Sarah naked and crawling on her hands and knees, and Me walking along side her in My stocking feet. As I walked along the grass path between the vicarage and the church, I made sure to trample any hosts that were stuck to My feet into the dirt.
Once inside the vicarage, I let Sarah undress and bath Me. After this we retired to her room.
“I will sleep now,” I said. “But you will kneel at the foot of My bed and repeat this prayer, “I worship Natalie and forsake all other gods. Natalie is my Savior.”
When you repeat My Name, I want you to hurt yourself – either scratch or pinch yourself- as a sign of your love for Me. That way, you will be ready to serve Me again when I arise in the morning.
THE END