Blasphemy with Tabitha: Witch Phone Sex Turns Priests into My Devoted Fuck Slaves

Blasphemy has always been my favorite sin, especially when I get to corrupt the holy and make them kneel before a real goddess. The priests at the old church down the street had been harassing me for weeks — sending letters, knocking on my door, trying to “save my soul.” So I decided it was time to show them who truly deserved worship.

Under the light of a full moon I cast my spell, whispering ancient words laced with witch phone sex power. The next morning three of them showed up at my door, eyes glassy, cocks already straining against their black robes. “We’re here to serve you,” they whispered, voices trembling with new, unholy lust.

I led them into my ritual room, candles flickering, incense thick in the air. “On your knees,” I commanded. They dropped instantly, forgetting every prayer they’d ever learned. I lifted my long black skirt and revealed my smooth, dripping pussy. “This is your new altar. Worship it.” Their tongues attacked me with desperate reverence — licking, sucking, moaning prayers of blasphemy into my cunt while I laughed and ground against their faces.

I crowned myself Queen with a silver circlet and made them repeat it: “Tabitha is our Goddess. Fuck God — we serve only Her.” Their cocks grew thicker and longer with every word I spoke, magic swelling them until they were monstrous, veiny, and throbbing. I stroked them slowly, teasing the swollen heads while they whimpered.

“You will fuck your Queen until I’m satisfied,” I told them, bending over my altar. “But you are never allowed to cum. Your orgasms now belong to me.” The first priest slammed into my tight pussy, stretching me open with his newly enlarged cock. I moaned in ecstasy as he pounded me deep and hard, his hands gripping my hips like a man possessed. Another knelt in front and fed me his massive shaft, choking me with blasphemous devotion while I sucked him greedily.

They took turns worshipping every hole. One would fuck my dripping cunt while another claimed my ass, their huge cocks filling me completely. I came over and over, screaming spells of pleasure as my body shook with orgasm after orgasm. Their faces were soaked with my juices, eyes rolled back in religious ecstasy turned carnal. I made them chant my name while they fucked me senseless on the floor, against the wall, and bent over my ritual table.

Hours passed. I rode them one by one, my tits bouncing as I used their swollen cocks like living toys. “Beg me not to let you cum,” I laughed. They did — sobbing, pleading, promising eternal service if I would only keep edging their aching, denied shafts. Pre-cum poured from them in rivers while I climaxed again and again, my witch phone sex power keeping them painfully hard and obedient.

When I was finally satisfied, I left them kneeling, cocks purple and throbbing, covered in my scent and juices. “Go back to your church and remember who your true Goddess is,” I whispered. They crawled away broken and reborn, forever addicted to the blasphemy they now craved.

These are the kinds of filthy stories I love sharing during my late-night phone sex calls. Nothing makes callers harder than hearing how I turn the righteous into my personal fuck priests.