Divine Intoxication

(Part 1 from 4)

Note : This story is completely fictional!

One of the girls at the publishing company where I work asked me if I would like to go to church with her. Tonya had been attending what she referred to as Sacred Name Chapel for several months and raved about the ‘spiritual awakening’ she received at each service.

I don’t like to walk in a church cold, not knowing anything about the doctrine or statement of faith. So I did a little research. I didn’t find out much about the church but I did come across the name of the pastor, Dr. Franklin Montgomery, on the internet.

Dr. Montgomery turned out to be one interesting character. Once a practicing psychiatrist. He authored several books on hypnotism. He professed to be an expert on the Binet and Fere Method of Fascination. The patient could be induced into a complete state of automatism under which the subject’s personality and short term memory were completely suppressed. This method had been, according to him, clinically proved to be most successful with insane and mentally incapacitated patients where all else had failed.

I also found some references that indicated that Dr. Montgomery had once worked for the CIA, involved in mind control research. Brainwashing, narco-hypnosis, electro-convulsive therapy, neuro-linguistics programming, astral projection, and that sort of thing. And now he was a minister. Somewhat unusual I thought.

Tonya continued to badger me to go with her. She is a very attractive and intelligent young woman in her early twenties who had just graduated from a Christian college this spring.

I finally relented and agreed to go one Sunday. Strangely, all of the congregation consisted of young women. I whispered to Tonya, “Why are the only ones here girls like us?” 

She whispered back, “You have to be invited by a member of the church. I’m a member.”

“How do you become a member of the church?”

“You’ll see. Some new members will be anointed and baptized today.”

The organist stopped playing and Dr. Montgomery walked out in a white linen robe. I recognized him from a picture I saw on the internet. Then twelve men dressed in black robes joined him.

“Who are the men in black?” I asked Tonya.

“The twelve disciples.”

“Good morning, my children,” Dr. Montgomery began.

“Good morning, our supreme higher power,” most of the women responded. I think all but me.

“We will begin our service as usual with the table of the lord,” he continued. “Everyone is invited to come forward and participate.” I thought that was odd. Usually that came near the end of the service. At the churches I had attended anyway.

The pews emptied and most of the young women walked up to be served the bread and wine to represent the body and the blood.

Dr. Montgomery then preached his sermon. All about homosexuality. He quoted Romans 1, verses 26 and 27. “For the women exchanged the natural function for that which is unnatural, and in the same way also the men abandoned the natural function of the women and burned in their desire toward one another.”

“Lesbianism!” The preacher pounded the pulpit. “Lesbianism caused men to turn to one another for sexual gratification. Repent you harlots!” he screamed.

I cringed. And thought about Victoria, the older woman who seduced me. It was wonderful. I thought about my best friend, Jenny, and how we got naughty and naked for National Nude Day and thrilled the patrons of that bar by giving each other a buddy suck on the pool table. I thought about my cousin, Britney, and how I helped her have her first orgasms. First with her own fingers, then with my tongue, and ultimately with a man.

Reverend Montgomery was incredibly impressive and charismatic. He commanded undivided attention to his words as he paced and flung his hands as he spoke. He kept pointing his finger at the crowd with every “you” and played on their fear and guilt. Funny, I didn’t feel guilty. I almost burst out laughing.

Rhythmic music unfamiliar to me played softly in the background and the volume was turned up every time the prancing preacher paused to sip from a glass of water. I did feel a little electrified. Charged with an exhilarating psychic experience it almost seemed. My heart raced and I felt tingling sensations along my spine. I turned to glance at Tonya. She appeared to be in some sort of transfixed hypnotic stupor as did many of the others in the congregation.

Several girls stood and went to the aisles. They began to utter sounds that I could not recognize as any language I was familiar with. Just mumbo-jumbo I thought. A radiance of incandescent light appeared around their bodies. It seemed artificial but I could not discover the source of the light. Their eyes were aglow. They began to shed their clothing. 

Two girls brought out some black wreathes. They looked something like wreathes.

“What are those things?” I asked Tonya, as the men put them on their heads.

“This is the black crown ceremony. Those are crowns of thorns. These holy men wear them to generate the psychic ability necessary to bring them to spiritual and physical nirvana. Nirvana, the state of perfect blessedness achieved by the absorption of the soul into the supreme spirit. When they attain nirvana it can be transferred to other believers via the sacred service. Think of it as communion with the higher power and his disciples.”

“Oh.” I wondered what the ‘sacred service’ might be but didn’t ask. Apparently I would soon find out. This was getting a little too weird, even for me. And Tonya looked stoned.

Now there were twelve girls in the aisles. They all had shed their clothing and jumped up and down naked, singing, dancing, and chanting in incoherent tongues. They worked themselves into a frantic frenzy.

After about ten minutes of this, Dr. Montgomery raised his hands upwards. Silence prevailed. The 18 young women who had been carrying on naked approached the twelve disciples who stood at the altar.

The girls got down on their knees. The men opened their robes. Nothing underneath.

I couldn’t help but notice. “Tonya, all these guys have very large penises.”

“Yes, they do. That’s one of the prerequisites to become a disciple. It has to be big enough to be tattooed with the sacred name.

“Oh,” was all I could mutter.

“I command you, harlots,” Dr. Montgomery roared, “to perform sacred service! Repent! The acceptance of the holy seed of my disciples will bring you remission of sin and a special communion with the supreme higher power.”

One by one the women brought the men to orgasm with their mouths and accepted the holy seed. The disciples soundlessly shot their loads down the girls’ throats and all over their faces and breasts.

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