abby

"awww, look at her! she's still getting used to her new wings! look at her trying so hard to fly~"

"oh, she's just precious!"

The divine light ripped through Verity like hundreds of thousands of needles piercing straight through her tender skin, rending her open for all to see, exposing the true nature of her very being and leaving her barren. The totality of Her presence could not be overstated, She overwhelmed every single sense, filling you full of Her grace and leaving you incapable of thinking of anything but Her. It was intoxicating, this singularity of focus. Verity had once flinched from it, but she knew better now. she had gotten better.

Verity tried not to think of her life before her calling. Before she met God. Before she was perfect. God told her not to, and she trusted God. Sometimes she thinks must have liked it, because she remembers spending a long time in the seminary trying to resist God and Her prophets, seers, and revelators as they prepared her for her ascension, her transformation. Spending all that time and energy trying to fight as they took her apart piece by piece and rebuilt her into God’s image.

Verity had been a sinner before, God let her remember that, but She had forgiven Verity. She had forgiven verity for all her sins, her resistance, and the sins of her life before. Verity’s inability to take care of the people that depended on her, her inability to take care of herself, her inability to ever be enough for the people around her. She forgave Verity, and freed her from the crushing weight of expectations, fear, and disappointment. All she had to do was obey. Obeying was easy. You didn’t have to guess, or want when you obey. you didn’t have to think anymore. She took care of that for you.

She reaches her palm downwards, and Verity extends her neck so her chin is resting in God's hand, eager for the approval of Her touch. God's other hand lazily starts to trace the rim of Verity's halo, and pleasure arcs through her body, every single nerve ending lighting up as her mind is overwhelmed. Verity’s wing explode outward, pure white feathers quivering as the muscles underneath are pulled taught, almost snapping. A deep, animalistic groan escapes from her now open mouth, guttural and unflattering, every single muscle in her body tensing, locking her into a facsimile of piety. Hands in front of her, clenching each other tight, desperate for anything to hold on to, thighs shaking, sore from being forced so tightly together. Needing to fill the void in her gasping throat she bites into her interlocked hands, teeth sinking deep as her jaw presses harder and harder trying to do anything to relieve the building pressure.

God continues to run Her finger across the ring of gold above Verity's head, ignoring her desperate spasming. Her touch was light and deliberate, like one using the slightest pressure to test the edge of a freshly sharpened knife, sliding it along the tip of their finger, applying just enough force to feel the blade bite into the finger, but not break skin. It was a painfully slow motion, violently sending waves of the agonizing bliss through Verity with every revolution, bring her to total helplessness with the slightest contact

Verity remained completely locked in the throes of pleasure, muscles spasming. All control of her body had been lost, hips buckling desperate for anything sort of release, breath quick and shaky on the verge of hyperventilation. Tears were streaming down her face as her voice silently screamed, begging Her for nothing, a string of “ppplease please please please” forcing it’s way out of her mouth as if a mantra. A private prayer between her and her God, pleading for mercy from the endless pressure building within in her, the pleasure mounting with no sign of release bringing her to the edge of what she can stand until finally—

God stops.

Verity’s muscles collapse beneath her. Finally free from the painful bliss, she hits the ground in a heap, the cold floor shocking her sweaty tangle of overheating limb and body, and starts to weep. The relief bringing her more joy than the pleasure she had just experienced. Taking a few deep, shaky breaths, Verity begins to climb back onto her knees, hands once again clasped in prayer, thankful that God had shared Her touch with her. Verity looked up to her God, hands bruised from where she bit them, hair stuck to her forehead with sweat, muscles sore, and thanked Her.

So you listen and maybe you start wondering why someone would think these tunes match you so well... but you can kind of hear it, right?

So you give it another spin... and another... and start relating just a little bit more. Letting every track sink in a little more until these songs become the soundtrack of your soul.