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Prayer is a powerful thing. It has the power to lift civilizations out from darkness and push forward to a new dawn, no matter the religion it took form in. Sister Icetalon found herself lost in this power during her morning solitude in the church, but rather than pray for something beneficial for others, she hoped the Lord would answer a call of a selfish endeavor.

She wanted to get off.

The life of a nun was one of strict chastity and sacrifice. Sister Icetalon knew this when she joined her coven, and she had expected to suppress her earthly desires easier as time went on. But the opposite had come to pass. They boiled up inside her, steaming until her veil and robe grew unbearable as though she'd run a mile during a boiling summer. Sacrilege poisoned her mind when even the holy man on the cross, the lord's son who sacrificed himself for her and everyone's sin save the one original sin, looked like an appetizing bedside partner in her dreams.

And so, she prayed. Not to have the good lord remove this desire from her, as like any other sister would. No, Sister Icetalon prayed for a sign, a symbol to say that she could give into the carnal desires of flesh. For him to send someone down to quench her suffering, like an angel who witnessed the writing of the Kamasutra. Day in and out she prayed, but no answer came.

A knock on the front door broke her focus. Rolling back her eyes and suppressing the urge to sigh, Sister Icetalon put on the good lord's smile and whisked herself to the front door. An icy chill brushed past her when she opened it, the frigid nature of winter taking its toll on her, and her lack of sense to wear anything underneath her robe today. "The Church is closed."

"Churches close?" A voice asked. She looked up to see a tall Cheshire furred draft shire stallion standing in the doorway, wearing a black parka jacket and tight jeans. His smile carried a smug sense of superiority that, by all accounts, should have made her brow furrow. Instead, her legs felt weak.

"Y-yes," She stammered with a nod. "Can't always keep it open."

The stallion folded his hands into his pockets, shook his head, and scoffed. "And you people call yourselves a shelter for the meek."

"Are you meek?"

"No, but I am burdened." His smile said otherwise. "May I come in, sister..."

"Icetalon."

"Lovely name. May I come in, Sister Icetalon?" She knew she shouldn't let him in. But something had her open the door and wave the stallion inside. Perhaps it was the way the sun shined out his outline. Or maybe it was something else. "Thank you." He looked over her, eyes scrolling over her body like a scanner. "I didn't know they made nuns so beautiful. Figured you'd be more...homely. To attract less sin."

Was that even a compliment? The owl balled her fists at it, but something about his presence made it hard to stay committed. "What...what is it that you've come to the church for, Mr..." She lost track of her words the moment her eyes looked over him. Slipping from his parka, the stallion revealed his broad chest hidden behind a tight black long-sleeve shirt, its color low enough to view a hint of his ample pecs. Trailing down, Sister Icetalon traced every ounce of physique in his form, as if he'd just walked off a film set like some sort of hunky movie star.

Or a different kind of set, given the outline in his jeans. Was the warmth from the church having it rise? At half mast it already grew beyond what she'd dreamed in her wildest fantasies. How would it feel in her hands, or even inside her? The owl's feathers bristled at the thought.

The stallion smiled. "Something catch your tongue, Sister?" He asked. Without letting her recover, he leaned above the owl, pressing her back against the door with his presence alone. "Or is it your eye that are hooked? I doubt the redness in your face is from the chill outdoors."

"I'm...I'm fine," She lied with a huff, feeling her nipples tighten underneath her robe. His brown eyes wandered down, lips curling into a grin at the sight of her chest. "Sir, if you'll please tell me your name."

"Sir is fine." He slipped a finger through her veil, softly scratching against her scalp. "As for why I'm here, I've come to release a weight off myself. Can you bear that weight, dear Sister?"

A confessional? She nodded, "Yes, yes I can do that." She found it hard to breathe as she pointed to the booth. "If you'll follow me, Sir."

"So," His finger braced her chin, "I don't think I will. You'll follow me."

She tried to laugh, to brush off such a suggestion. But it wasn't one. It was a command that rippled down her spine and stuck her in place. The stallion's finger traced down her chest, stopping and circling around her nipple. "Do all nuns forgo underwear, or just the sluts?"

"S-Sir, you mustn't-"

"Don't act like you're not enjoying this, Sister." His hand pressed against her chest, squeezing around her ample breast. "I can see it in your eyes. The months of chastity are growing on you. It was clear the moment you opened the door how much you wanted a fuck." His warm breath cascaded down her face, hand twisting slow with brutal teasing tedium. "I can smell your desire, Sister. Have you been touching yourself under the Lord's watchful eye? Debasing yourself to the sin of flesh and crying, no, begging for someone to answer your call?"

Icetalon's legs turned to jelly yet she still stood, bracing the door for balance. Every word felt like a noose tied around her neck, her breath hot and delirious with desire. "Who...who are you, sir?" She asked, staring into his earthly brown gaze.

He smiled, releasing her breast only to shut her beak between his fingers. "I'm your answer, slut. But I won't say who was listening. Now do me a favor and take off that robe of yours."

"B-But the Church."

"This will be the least of your sins, Sister." He laughed, "Now strip."

Whether it be by his command or her own lusts, Sister Icetalon slowly cast off her robe inside the holy walls of her church. His sneer filled her with shame, with the cold chill by the door shivering up her spine. If asked, she'd swear that was why her nipples were tight, but she knew the real reason.

"Wow..." He looked her over, giving her ample room to view his extending crotch as the stallion trailed a finger between her breasts. "Quite the impressive rack for a nun. Too bad you're so keen on hiding it. Well," He chuckled dismissively, "Almost, given the lack of a bra." Whistling to himself, the stallion took her robes and tied them to a noose. Slinging it around her neck, he pulled her close and whispered. "Do you hate this, Sister?"

Her mind screamed yes but her body's reaction said otherwise, keeping her silent. "I asked you a question, Sister." The stallion pinched her nipple, gently pulling and twisting for her to squeal. He held her up by the impromptu leash, unrelenting in his torment.

"Y-Yes." She quivered, "I hate this."

That earned her a quick slap across her fat breasts, "You lie in the house of god?" The stallion huffed, gliding his hand down her shaking chest until reaching her moist cunt. "You're too wet to be hating this, slut. No, you enjoy this. You want this."

"Y-You can't prove that, sir."

"Oh?" His grin sparked a fire in her chest. "Let's just see about that. Time for a confession." Tugging by the leash made from her robe, he pulled her down the aisle before the light of their lord, stopping and pushing her inside one end of the confessional. "Well ain't that interesting," He chuckled from the other end, poking his finger through the confessional hole. "Lower than your normal booth. And only with a curtain? Almost like it was meant for this."

"F-For what?"

His answer came with the fat flat-headed brown horsecock jutting through the hole. Its smell hit her like a wet blanket, the masculine scent overpowering. "This, dear sister." Sir's cock twitched in her presence. "Go on. Touch it. I know that's what you wanted. A nice, big, and meaty cock in your hands."

She could leave. Nothing barred her door. Sister Icetalon could just sprint out and call for help. But she didn't. No, the owl found her feathery hands taking hold of the steaming hot cock before her, so big it required both to properly pump along the shaft. The stallion's soft laugh barely registered to her. "So much for the chaste and holy."

Sister Icetalon couldn't deny it. Her hands crawled in opposite directions, one massaging the heavy orbs underneath his cock, the other dragging a thumb over the flat head. She wanted, no, needed it inside her. Destroying her from the inside and out. It took a moment to realize how heavily she was breathing. Leaning in, Icetalon let her tongue wander and taste the glorious piece of meat before her.

"Ah, ah, ah." Icetalon froze in place at the stallion's chiding, as though an invisible leash kept her steady. "I said you can touch, you sacrilegious slut, but you don't get to taste. Not yet." A whine escaped her beak before she knew it. She didn't even try to take it back, her body becoming like jelly at his soft insulting laughter. "Oh, but you want it, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir." She spoke as though out of breath, fingers curling around the shaft and pumping with care.

"Tell me how much you want my cock, whore," The stallion ordered. "Say everything you want me to do to you."

Any shame she had vanished with her next words. "I want it in me, Sir." Her thighs rubbed against each other as if it could hold back her lusts. "I want you to take me and ram this idol between my legs, shattering my vows with one thrust, and making me yours with several more."

"You're already mine, bitch. Else you wouldn't be doing this." His breath stunted. Was he close? She continued to pump, to push her new master along the edge of bliss. In her weakness, she let one hand go and slipped it between her nethers. "Both hands, cunt." She whined but obeyed, leaving her moist pussy absent from touch to focus on the stallion's pleasure.

He was close. As lacking as her experience was, even she could tell by the grunts and short haggard breaths escaping his lips. She wondered what they tasted like, how it would feel for his tongue to wrestle her own into submission before railing her until she screamed. Could she even take such a monster inside? The heretical nun was anxious to find out.

With a shudder and a heavy pulse from his rod, the glorious white seed shot out at her. The owl's hands, her veil, even her face carried the remains of his sin, covering her in the mark of a harlot. Yet she didn't stop, pumping and edging his cock along until he commanded her to let go.

No more could she hold it in. As his cock pulled away, she sat back against the bench inside and spread her legs wide, her fingers keeping her pussy wide and open. Icetalon wanted him to see her quivering moist cunt first and foremost, to take her here and now underneath the sight of her lord. She had sinned, and it was good.

Her heart skipped at the squeak of the door's hinges. The light from the stained glass windows enveloped him in an almost divine sense. Yes, she realized, he was the answer to her prayers. "Take me, Sir," Icetalon pleaded, her juices dripping onto the carpeted floor of the confessional. "Please, I am yours."

"Of course you are, it's my seed you're wearing." The stallion laughed and pulled his pants up, once against hiding that delicious cock behind the tight polyester of his jeans. "But no, I got what I wanted. If you want more, you'll need to earn it."

Earn it? Her heart sank. Had she not done that just now? Debased herself in the very church for his desires. As he turned away, Icetalon fell to her knees and crawled after him. "Sir, please. I need it. I'll do anything for it, anything!"

"They always say anything." The stallion pulled out a card from his coat pocket, stuffing it in her hands. "If you really want it, come here tonight." He left without another word. Sister, no she could not call herself that anymore. Icetalon stared at the front doors of the church for a good minute after he left before seeing the card. It had a single address on it.

She gulped, and crumpled herself up into a ball, tears matting her chin as her desires piled around her.