2.5k words <3 You’re a women of faith. What happens when someone comes along and confirms the cracks you’ve always felt? Assists in your silent rebellion? Toppling down all that you knew with the touch of her hand…
Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, rough sex. Begging. Age gap but you’re in your 20s and Yelena in her 30s nothing crazy. Virgin reader but not for long. Not a bunch of religious stress about going to hell for having sesbian lex cause I didn’t feel like adding that. Dirty talk. Dom Yelena sub fem reader. Disrespect lowkey. Very slight mentions of child abuse. light teacher student dynamic. Basement sex so kinda semi public ig? Use of names like sir in a sexual manner + pet names like good girl, slut, sweetheart, stuff like that. L bomb at the end because I’m a romantic. AGAIN absolutely nothing specified like height weight skin color or hair texture for reader. This is for everyone!!! Not really beta read this was kinda conjured up by a horny haze. Let me know if I missed anything <3
You know, it really was interesting how you two of you met. Two souls that never should have touched brought together by strange circumstances and sinful curiosity. Nothing, not even the hand of God, would ever stop the yearning and colliding. Yelena was the pianist at your church. Tall, broad, and all-encompassing. Commanding the notes with the most ethereal, powerful hands. Even knowing she had caught your stare multiple times, you still couldn’t help yourself. The gaze you held was so obvious even your mother picked up on it, of course missing the truth hidden beneath. After service one day, she guided you over by the shoulder, ignoring your reluctance. The hand on your shoulder did not help the thoughts. Wondering what Yelena’s hand would feel like on your shoulder. Would it be cold or warm? Touch heavy or light? “Miss Yelena, my daughter here would like to speak with you. She’s interested in piano lessons if you offer them.” Your mother’s voice was weak, body frail, a woman truly devoted to all things Godly. When Yelena took a beat to respond, your mother offered a tight-lipped smile, mouth painted a monotonous shade of boring, trying to encourage the conversation. “No, I do not.”
The blunt reply perturbs your mother. As always, she pushes and tries again. “Oh, don’t be so humble! Y/n here is a good girl. She listens well and learns quick. Please give her a chance.” Yelena had already begun to turn away, aiming to reply with another firm no. That was until you spoke up. “Please, miss, I’m very interested.” Yelena allows a moment to drink in your appearance. You’re younger, but not alarmingly so, and wearing a collared purple dress. One too many buttons undone to be truly modest. Bracelets adorned each wrist; your lips are a shade of pink that’s toeing the line between a nice girl and a hussy. Your eyes strike her as different too, and you appreciate Yelena’s paying attention to them. If someone had caught you, your mother would have probably beaten you for stealing the pink and green tube of mascara during a trip to the mini-mart. Only wearing a single coat, but you know it’s enough to make your eyes sparkle.
Yelena recognizes the look in your eye, which contrasts with the shy tone of voice you use. Intriguing. Wanting to match your tone, she decides to accept. “Alright, tomorrow evening at six sharp. I will write my address down for you. Give me a moment.” You await hearing back, fidgety and sweating. Then, the rest is history. The evenings shared were innocent enough at first. Not being religious herself and only seeing what she does at the church as just a job, you rekindle a passion in her. Teaching you techniques and tricks is like magic, bringing back something Yelena’s soul had lost. Your mother was right; you are a fast learner.
The night things changed started out like any other, ringing Yelena’s doorbell at 6:05 PM. You’re late. It wouldn’t have been a big deal, but the resounding energy is off. Yelena sits much too close, causing your mind to wander. Does she always sit this close? Are you the one making things weird? And oh, her fingers. Delicate and experienced, unlike your own, making near constant mistakes. Her hands, they hold the power to break you right open, play you like music. “You’re distracted tonight. What is it?” She asks, voice deep. Word vomit spilling from you leads to personal questions from her.
have you ever touched a woman?
have you ever been touched at all?
Yelena breaks you quickly, resolve weaker than either of you expected. Years of repression have done nothing to quell the hellfire inside. Questions turn to pleas, pleas turn to cries of her name mixed with delicious whines and moans. Voice up a pitch, a siren song prayer for more more more. You don’t even know what you’re asking for. It’s tempting. Yelena leans back to gaze at you while unbuttoning your blouse. It’s too much. Pink lipstick smudged around your mouth, no doubt spread to Yelena’s as well. Mascara prints around your eyes, tears stream down your face, and your breath is heavy like you’ve run a marathon. It’s too much. Yelena removes her hands from your clothes, smoothing down her hair and pants awkwardly. “This isn’t right, you’re not- this is- We have to stop.” Her words are heavy, lustful and yearning in a way you didn’t expect; you won’t stand for this. It’s time to finish what she started. “No, Yelena, please!” You climb on top of her, arms wrapped around her neck, legs in between her own. Clinging. Her hands come up to rub your back, soothing in a way you don’t want. You want her to set you ablaze. “Yelena touch me! Please! I wanna know what it feels like to- “ An enormous hand comes to your face, effortlessly covering your mouth along with your nose. Making it a little hard to breathe. “Hush. Next time.”
Gathering yourself as quickly as possible, you prepare to leave. Gazing at yourself in the bathroom mirror, you’re unrecognizable. A slut with her face soiled, right along with her panties too. Wiping yourself from top and bottom, you rinse your face in the sink, hoping the cool water will bring you back to reality. Regardless of whether or not the water helped, moments with Yelena continue to supersede reality. Over the next coming weeks, she not only took your virginity, but went all the way with you routinely on the couch in her living room. Piano lessons be damned. Not that your quick wit really helped retain much. No, that was reserved for learning Yelena’s lustful tips and tricks. The purity ring you were gifted years ago still sits sits upon your finger, mendacious. A taunting reminder of the controversial relationship. Although society probably wouldn’t even call what you share ‘real sex’ since your partner is a woman. However, no one else will ever touch you other than her. Especially not a man. That would be an actual sin.
Things eventually progressed from just touching to fucking. Yelena grew rougher and more intense with time and witnessing just how much you can take. That’s how you ended up in this current situation. Despite that fact, Yelena does have a softer side. One that comes late at night. Periodically, a soft tapping on your window will awaken you; you never bother asking how she found your home, let alone knew which room was yours. The mystique fits perfectly. Those were a midnight mass of their own breed. Cold in your pajamas, barefoot, she leads you through the woods. It’s a familiar route followed many times throughout your childhood, but visiting it with your lover transformed the experience. She guides you to the church graveyard, sacrilege hanging heavily over what you’re about to share. Yelena is so much more doting during these dead hours of night. Making love to you, gifting you with as many orgasms as you wish. Holding you close when you’re spent, firm body warming you despite the damp grass kissing your bare skin. Illusions of something more shining brighter than the moon.
But when she pulls you aside in private moments like this, she can be practically evil. Demeaning words so filthy they make you hope she prays after, and considers washing her mouth out with soap. The task for the two of you was to bring extra chairs from the basement, because the yearly potluck dinner would happen later in the evening. The second your shoes hit the floor at the bottom, she’s on top of you. Not even gracing you with a kiss before beginning the attack. “Get down on the floor.” Yelena’s deep voice rings through the musty room. “What? It’s dirty. I can’t-“ Commanding hands come to grip your collar. Hard. In an instant, you are on your knees, landing with enough force to tear your stockings. Another tug has you sliding, scraping the soft flesh of your legs against the pavement. Cutting you up good, grinding blood and dirt into the wounds and surrounding fabric. Then, with a final push from her hands, you land hard on your hip, effectively soiling your skirt. “Uh oh, don’t let your momma see that. She might catch on to what a disgusting little woman you are.” Reflecting back, those nights in the cemetery contrast greatly with the way she’s violating you right now. In those moments, she praises you. Worships you. Treats you like your body is the altar, and your pussy the portal to the veritable goddess. But for now, she’s going to treat you like a disobedient dog in need of punishment. And you love it.
Ruthless as ever, she doesn’t give you time to comply, only leans down to force the rest of your upper body flat. “I said, lay down.” You don’t dare move a muscle despite your knees shaking involuntarily with anticipation. Your mind wanders as she crouches down and unclothes your bottom half. First go your shoes, thrown into the darkness beyond. Then your tights, the airy material is pulled off roughly, then stashed away into Yelena’s pocket. Well, it’s not like you’ll need them anymore. Last to go is your skirt. Aiding her by lifting your hips, she pulls it off, leaving you in just your top and panties. “Oh sweetheart, you’re wearing the ones I bought for you.” Her hands rub up and down your thighs, the perfect amount of pressure to get you excited and twitchy. The underwear is black and full lace, something from a proper lingerie shop, not the cotton ones you’re used to.
Those cheap kinds that come from the general store. Yelena’s serpentine hands come to a halt at the waistband. Spade-like fingers cut into your skin and yank the fabric away. It’s fast enough to leave trails of irritation at the biting friction. “How precious.” Her words are spoken bitterly, despite how they might seem. Readjusting, she pulls your legs apart and settles in, lying down between them. Grateful, she wore a grey button-up instead of her usual white one. The dirty marks from the floor will be concealed perfectly. Kisses mark up and down your inner thighs, some light and sweet, others hot and open-mouthed. Each one brings a pretty huff from your lips. “Such a pretty girl, my good girl.” Yelena says, voice dropping deep and husky. She spreads you open a bit with her fingers, bringing out another high-pitched sound from your throat. Yelena lets out a sinful groan, absolutely aching to lick you up like ice cream. When she kisses your clit, you jolt, reacting similarly when she places another kiss on your hole. Your hips shake back and forth, wanting her to hurry. Rapacious hands push you back to the floor, lapping tongue establishing a fast pace.
The muscle presses all your favorite spots, like the flesh below your clit. She even goes so far as to push inside a few times. It’s rapture, being allowed such intense pleasure after being exploited. “Yelena mmmm ah~” Body moving in time with her, combining into one pulsing energy. The sensation is too much, so you try pushing away with both feet and hands. Yelena doesn’t want that, so she pulls you roughly back into her face. The pull has your top riding up, sensitive skin on your back meeting the sandpaper floor. Wanting to let her know you’re close, you stutter out, “Oh, I’m almost there, please don’t stop.” Yelena pushes you further, keeping the same solid pace, each stroke walking you a step further towards the edge. Feeling the outer muscles contract and release knowing what that means, she pulls away. “No! What? Why did you stop?” Your voice comes out cracked. Pushing up with your feet, raising your hips up from the floor, attempting to get close again. You sob pathetically, realizing convincing her will take effort. “Beg for it.” Her voice is low, taunting. Trying to honor the embarrassing request, you whine, “P-please, Yelena, let me… um, let me finish please I want it.” That’s it?
“Horrible. Try again. Say it dirty this time, use the proper words. The ones I taught you… pussy, fuck, sir, cum.” Good God. “Yelena please! Please let me cum!” She pulls away fully from your body, making you reach out for her, trying to kick at her with your legs. She rests on her knees, palms flat against her thighs. Disappointed. “You don’t mean it. Say it like you need me, like a prayer. Push me over the edge with your urgency, make it so I can’t keep away from you.” Edged past the point of restraint, you really give it to her this time. “Fuck! Sir, please! Fuck me till I cum! I need it! Please please please! Use me how you want, do anything to me. I can take it as long as I get to cum, I- fuck-!” Pulling you up by your stretched collar, the world shifts to a sitting-up posture. Your knees stay open wide like a mouth ready for communion. Wishing for the blood and body of Christ to be gifted by the priest, and you get exactly what you want. Her fingers nudge around for a moment, rubbing back and forth between your folds, coating them in slick. And then, in two of them go. She doesn’t push them in and out fully but focuses on rocking back and forth solely on your spongy g-spot. Now that’s got you tumbling towards the edge. “Oh, my God.” The words come out breathless. Yelena copies with a mocking tone, punctuated by a mean laugh. “What would God think of you now? Huh? Better yet, what would Mommy think of you? If she came down here, saw you split open on my fingers like this, hmm?” The dirty words don’t help your situation. Having been so close last time, it won’t be long before you’re done for “Ughhh I’m close again please, please let me cum.”
“No.” She speeds up, wicked. “Sir! I want it! Now, please.” Your voice trailed off, words replaced by guttural sounds, mind fucked out. A bit of drool forms at the corner of your mouth, eyes half lidded and your gaze is empty. Yelena feels your plush walls contracting hard, deciding you’ve done well enough she commands, “Okay, go ahead. Be a filthy slut and cum for me.” The only thing you’re capable of doing is gripping onto her wrist, digging your nails in and cumming so hard you have to cover your own mouth not to be heard. That was the last thing you needed. To be outed by your stupid cries. Body tense, she slows but doesn’t stop. Wanting you to feel every single moment of your orgasm. Once it’s over, your stomach shakes, overstimulated. She catches on not wanting to force you anymore, feeling proud of herself.
Yelena holds you until you come down whispering reminders of how good of a girl you are, how well you take it and various things of that nature. Then, helps fasten your clothing after searching through the dark for your right and left shoes. She’s down on her knees again, tying your laces as if you’re a child. Catching a glimpse of the abrasions adorning each knee, and feeling the shakiness of your legs, she feels remorseful. Overcome with affection, her arms wrap around your lower half, head resting at your hips. “Are you okay, Yelena?” Shouldn’t she be asking you that? Big eyes lift to meet your own; you could swear they are damp with tears. “You are my absolution, y/n. I can’t be without you.”
Petting her thick blonde hair, unsure of what to say other than the truth, you spit it out. “I love you too, Yelena.”
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