A priest whose thoughts are straying too far, pent up, eyes lingering on his parishioners longer than they should. So God sends an angel to fill his needs. A pure thing, so nothing he does to it can be sin, but he can get out all those sinful urges...
Little does the angel know just how deep and intense those urges are, having built up for so long. The priest who sees this perfect, pure being and it all bubbles to the surface at once.
In the day, he's the picture of innocence, smiling gently to his flock, voice steady as he guides them. But the moment he is alone, he pulls out the angel, tugging it by the halo, from where he keeps it in his private chambers. His gift from God, pet and plaything, covered in marks and bruises, always on its knees ready to take on the priests desires, whatever they may be. Feathers tugged from its fluffy wings as the priest yanks on them, fucking into it like its nothing but a toy, and it is. Nothing more than a toy to help him relax, to stop his thoughts straying. It exists to serve him under the command of God, and it wants for nothing more, its little whines and moans slipping out as it delights in its service.