nickiscooool
04-03-2009, 8:24 AM
I read this some years back n after reading this I jus simply wanna meet GODDESS NATALIE N JUS wanna WORSHIP HER ALL DAY ALL NIGHT N WANNA B HER SLAVE FOREVER....
here da story goes ..... GODDESS TELLING IT HERSELF......
I suppose you could say that I am an arrogant sort of person. Actually I am
more than that. You see not only am I stunningly beautiful, but I consider
myself to be a Goddess, indeed the Goddess - someone who can command worship
from others. But I'll come to that in a moment.
First of all, my name is Natalie, Princess Natalie. I am in my late 20s,
with gorgeous green eyes, full sensuous lips, and flowing auburn hair. I
have long shapely legs, a slender waist and full, firm breasts. I also have
very beautiful hands and feet. My hands are long, elegant, with long fingers
and long, wide perfectly shaped nails. My feet are slightly largish, wideish
across the ball of the foot, narrowing to a perfectly rounded heel, with
long toes, and long, wide, smooth nails.
I am no mere mortal; I am totally convinced of my superiority over all
others: women, men, children, animals, and even other gods have their
rightful place only under my feet. I am the only Goddess due worship from
these others. And if they don't give it willingly, then I will get it from
them in other ways!!!
Let me tell you about a recent conquest of mine. I had been invited over to
England by a few of my devotees in that country. However, I had taken up
residence in a large country mansion in a village out in remotest Cornwall
because I wanted some quiet time by myself. This was a small village, made
up of local people and the usual middle class yuppies who get everywhere. A
young female priest led the Local Church of England (Anglican) parish in the
village. She was the reverend Sarah Smythe, and she had the reputation of
being a very holy and prayerful priest. Apart from this She was something of
an 'English Rose': she was slim, with long straight blond hair. Two large
soft blue eyes set off her pretty face. So, I thought to myself, "she will
be mine!"
I decided to meet the Reverend Sarah Smythe. So on the Sunday, I went along
to the parish Communion Service at 12 noon. As usual, I was dressed in my
mystical power clothes: a black short tight dress, to accentuate my divine
figure, black stockings, and black stiletto pumps. I wore my hair tied back,
so that I might dazzle them with the mysterious, perplexing beauty of my
face. I sat close to the front of the church in order to closely observe the
Reverend Sarah as she ministered to her flock.
The church itself was quite large. There was a wide centre aisle, on either
side of which were rows of wooden chairs (about 50 on each side) and
individual cushions, which I supposed these poor misguided fools used to
kneel on to pray. The congregation was made of a few old
people, quite a few children and teenagers, and several couples aged in
their 30s. There was a large sanctuary area at the top of the Church, in the
centre of this was a large stone altar. Suspended above the altar was a life
size crucifix with a life size figure of Christ on it.
At 12 noon exactly, a bell sounded and the Reverend Sarah came out of the
vestry and went into the sanctuary. She was dressed in a white alb, over
which she wore a green stole and green chasuble. She ascended into the
pulpit, which was a box at the right hand side of the altar. "Welcome",
Sarah began, "to our worship this morning".
She had a very upper class accent: I would enjoy making her mine. I was
quite close to the front of the church, so it was easy for me to make eye
contact with the Reverend Sarah. I stared at her long and hard. She returned
my gaze for long periods, even making a few errors in her reading of their
scriptures (ha, ha). Each time she looked at me, I smiled sweetly back at
her, thinking, "I will be your new god".
The service continued with Sarah's sermon, in which her clipped English
accent wafted out over the congregation. Then Sarah moved to the centre of
the altar to begin the prayers of consecration. The rest of the congregation
knelt, and I, obviously remained sitting. After the service was
over, Sarah went to the door of the church to greet her departing
parishioners. As I exited the church, I shook hands with Sarah and looked
deep into her eyes, and she blushed.
"Good service", I lied.
"Gosh, you're an israelian", replied Sarah. "I do hope that you are enjoying
your stay here. If there is anything I can do.", she went on. I didn't let
her finish the sentence, "I want to come and speak to you about something
important. Coffee, tomorrow morning, 10am in the village coffee shop", I
said in a commanding tone and walked off, knowing full well that she would
be there.
At 9.30am, the reverend Sarah Smythe was seated in the coffee shop, dressed
in a grey two piece jacket and skirt, black clerical collar, with tan
stockings and grey high-heeled shoes. I arrived at 11 am and Sarah was still
there waiting. I was dressed in a leather biker's jacket, tight white
T-shirt, black fishnet stockings, and scuffed black ankle length leather
stiletto heeled boots. Around the heel and middle of my right boot, was
wrapped a pair of rosary beads. My hair was down and blowing wild.
As I entered the coffee shop, Sarah's jaw dropped. I could tell she was
eating me up with her eyes. As I sat down I said, "I should properly
introduce myself: I am Princess Natalie", and I held out my hand, palm down:
the traditional posture to invite a kiss to the hand.
Sarah stammered, "Y-you are royalty?" I looked deep into her eyes and said,
"Actually, I am more than royalty, but I will come to that later. Have your
manners totally deserted you, reverend?, I said, indicating my hand which
was still outstretched and waiting. "I believe I am entitled to some show of
respect from you, a courtsey and a handkiss, if I am not mistaken". The
conviction in my voice was absolute. "Oh, yes, indeed", she burbled. Sarah
rose from hr chair, did a low courtsey in front of me, and then took my
hands and placed a very gentle kiss across the tops of my fingers. Several
heads in the coffee shop tuned as their elegant lady vicar knelt before an
israelian biker chick and kissed her hand.
As Sarah resumed her seat I continued, "You will address me as 'Princess
Natalie' or 'highness' in all our conversations. Is that quite clear?"
"Y-yes of course, highness", she stammered. When the coffee had arrived, one
cup was placed in front of me, and one in front of Sarah. "What do you
normally take in your coffee?", I asked her.
"Just milk", she replied. "Well, today in my honour, you will not enjoy your
coffee. I want you to offer up the experience as a small sacrifice to your
new god." When she showed a puzzled look, I said, "You do believe in the
value of penance, don't you?"
"Yes, of course I do, highness. I am a priest after all". As Sarah watched,
I poured salt into her coffee. "You will drink every drop", I said, "and
think of me while you are drinking it". Sarah did not object or complain: I
knew that she was well on the way to being mine.
"Now", I said, "tell me about your faith in god?" "Well, really, I have
always believed in God. Daddy was a vicar- man of great faith", she said
earnestly. "I suppose I have always looked for some force to guide my life;
and when the church decided to ordain women to the priesthood, I decided to
give my life to god through priesthood and celibacy."
"Really", I said, looking bored. "Let's get a breath of fresh air", I
suggested. "Take me to see your parents graves".
She looked really pleased by this suggestion. "Oh, certainly, highness, if
you really want to."
I walked out and left Sarah to pay for the coffees. Her car was parked
across the street, a nice large volvo. Sarah expected me to get in the front
passenger seat, but I went to the back door. "You understand, reverend, I am
royalty. It is beneath me to sit up front with you. I will sit in the back,
and you will act as my chauffeur".
Again Sarah complied with my wishes. She rushed to open the back door for
me, and closed it after I had taken my seat. We drove for several miles to a
small graveyard. Sarah stopped the car, and opened my door. We walked into
the graveyard until we came to the spot. "This is daddy's grave and that's
mummy's next to him", she said.
I proceeded to walk up the length of her mother's grave. "Oh, please,
highness", Sarah began, looking somewhat distressed.
"Be quiet", I told her. "Where I come from, people consider it a privilege
and an honour to be under my feet. Stop snivelling and come and join me. I
am sure your mother will appreciate the gesture".
Slowly Sarah walked up the length of her mother's grave. "If you say so,
highness".
So he didn't feel left out, I suggested we trample over her father's grave
as well.
Back in the car I said, "Don't you feel better, Sarah. You are going to have
to learn to trust me. Tell you what, Sarah", I said, "I am going to give up
a week of my time to come and live with you in the vicarage to help you get
to know which direction you are going in. What do you say?" "I would like
that, highness", she beamed.
We drove to my mansion hide-away so that I could collect my clothes, then
Sarah drove me back to the vicarage, which was right next door to the
church. The vicarage was a huge Victorian church, with a study, a library,
dinning-room, and five large bedrooms. Sarah showed me to the guestroom, but
I told her I would be taking over her bedroom.
I spent the next four days with Sarah, and she grew deeper and deeper under
my spell. At first she was troubled by 'little things'. But I replied
firmly that that's where I wanted it to be. She accepted this.
On the Friday evening, I decided it was time to put her to the test. I
dressed in my power clothes: black short, tight dress, black stockings,
black stiletto heeled shoes, and my hair tied back. She was writing her
sermon in the library. I went in and sat in one of the large red leather
armchairs.
"Sarah", I announced, "I have decided to leave you now". She turned around
in her seat, her face was ashen white, and tears were filling her eyes.
"But, why, highness?" She actually began to sob, "P-please don't leave me"
"I am prepared to stay, Sarah, but only if you accept me on my terms".
Realising that there was a chance, Sarah said eagerly, "I-I'll do anything
you say. Please, stay."
You must accept me", I said, "not only as your princess, but also as your
goddess.
Falling to her knees, Sarah said, "I choose you Goddess Natalie. You are my
saviour", she said shuffling towards me on her knees. Falling before me she
began licking my black pumps. "Now, slave Sarah, let's go into the church so
that you can worship me properly.
Sarah got up off the floor before me, and went to get the keys of the
church. As we both walked over from the vicarage to the church, Sarah kept
her eyes on me. She took a big iron key and opened the church door, and we
went inside. It was dark and quiet within. Sarah put on some of the lights
at the altar.
We went up in to the sanctuary area, at the front of the church, where the
altar is situated. To the left of the altar, there was a small red lamp
burning in front of a wall safe.
I then climbed on to the altar, and reclined as if lying on a sofa, and
said, "The stage is yours, slave Sarah. Worship me." Sarah was still dressed
in her two piece grey suit, black clerical shirt, tan stockings and grey
shoes. She took out a large gold plate, which had about 200 small white
bread hosts on it.
"This is in your honour, Goddess Natalie", she said and began scattering the
hosts on the stone floor at the front of the altar, as she walked backwards.
So in front of the altar, the scattered hosts formed a little white carpet.
I slid off the altar and began walking on the hosts, crushing and grinding
them under the heels and soles of my shoes. I then sat on the altar again.
Sarah got up from her kneeling position and went to the tabernacle again.
She then brought this bowl over to me as I sat on the altar, and said,
"Goddess Natalie, for you to bath your feet." I sat upright on the altar,
with my legs dangling over the side. I slipped off my stiletto heels, and
let my hot, sweaty nylon encased feet slip into the wine. What power I felt,
washing my feet with wine. The wine felt cool as it washed between
my toes and around the soles of my feet and heels. As Sarah knelt in front
of me holding the bowl, I lifted my right foot out of the bowl and pushed my
wet nylon covered toes into her mouth. Sarah eagerly sucked the consecrated
wine out of my nylons. Only when my feet were well and truly bathed, did I
then tell Sarah to put the bowl on the floor.
"Lap it up like a dog", I told her. Sarah knelt on all fours and began
lapping up the consecrated wine. I patted her head and said, "Good dog. You
will keep your dog collar on", I said, referring to her clerical shirt, "to
remind you that you are my dog now." I let her continuing lapping until the
wine was finished. "Before we go back to the vicarage, slave Sarah", I said,
"I want you to take all your clothes off."
Without even a moment's hesitation, Sarah stood and began to undress. She
had a very slim body, with small firm tits. "On your knees, dog", I snapped.
As I walked on the stone floor, my stockinged feet, wet and sticky from
their bath in the consecrated wine, stood on the hosts I had crushed
earlier. Pieces of hosts began sticking to my feet.
We left the church to return to the vicarage, Sarah naked and crawling on
her hands and knees, and me walking along side her in my stockinged feet. As
I walked along the grass path between the vicarage and the church, I made
sure to trample any hosts that were stuck to my feet into the dirt.
Once inside the vicarage, I let Sarah undress and bath me. After this we
retired to her room. "I will sleep now", I said. "But you will kneel at the
foot of my bed and repeat the prayer, 'Natalie is my saviour' until the
dawn. When you repeat my name, I want you to hurt yourself - either scratch
or pinch yourself- as a sign of your love for me. That way, you will be
ready to serve me again when I arise in the morning
here da story goes ..... GODDESS TELLING IT HERSELF......
I suppose you could say that I am an arrogant sort of person. Actually I am
more than that. You see not only am I stunningly beautiful, but I consider
myself to be a Goddess, indeed the Goddess - someone who can command worship
from others. But I'll come to that in a moment.
First of all, my name is Natalie, Princess Natalie. I am in my late 20s,
with gorgeous green eyes, full sensuous lips, and flowing auburn hair. I
have long shapely legs, a slender waist and full, firm breasts. I also have
very beautiful hands and feet. My hands are long, elegant, with long fingers
and long, wide perfectly shaped nails. My feet are slightly largish, wideish
across the ball of the foot, narrowing to a perfectly rounded heel, with
long toes, and long, wide, smooth nails.
I am no mere mortal; I am totally convinced of my superiority over all
others: women, men, children, animals, and even other gods have their
rightful place only under my feet. I am the only Goddess due worship from
these others. And if they don't give it willingly, then I will get it from
them in other ways!!!
Let me tell you about a recent conquest of mine. I had been invited over to
England by a few of my devotees in that country. However, I had taken up
residence in a large country mansion in a village out in remotest Cornwall
because I wanted some quiet time by myself. This was a small village, made
up of local people and the usual middle class yuppies who get everywhere. A
young female priest led the Local Church of England (Anglican) parish in the
village. She was the reverend Sarah Smythe, and she had the reputation of
being a very holy and prayerful priest. Apart from this She was something of
an 'English Rose': she was slim, with long straight blond hair. Two large
soft blue eyes set off her pretty face. So, I thought to myself, "she will
be mine!"
I decided to meet the Reverend Sarah Smythe. So on the Sunday, I went along
to the parish Communion Service at 12 noon. As usual, I was dressed in my
mystical power clothes: a black short tight dress, to accentuate my divine
figure, black stockings, and black stiletto pumps. I wore my hair tied back,
so that I might dazzle them with the mysterious, perplexing beauty of my
face. I sat close to the front of the church in order to closely observe the
Reverend Sarah as she ministered to her flock.
The church itself was quite large. There was a wide centre aisle, on either
side of which were rows of wooden chairs (about 50 on each side) and
individual cushions, which I supposed these poor misguided fools used to
kneel on to pray. The congregation was made of a few old
people, quite a few children and teenagers, and several couples aged in
their 30s. There was a large sanctuary area at the top of the Church, in the
centre of this was a large stone altar. Suspended above the altar was a life
size crucifix with a life size figure of Christ on it.
At 12 noon exactly, a bell sounded and the Reverend Sarah came out of the
vestry and went into the sanctuary. She was dressed in a white alb, over
which she wore a green stole and green chasuble. She ascended into the
pulpit, which was a box at the right hand side of the altar. "Welcome",
Sarah began, "to our worship this morning".
She had a very upper class accent: I would enjoy making her mine. I was
quite close to the front of the church, so it was easy for me to make eye
contact with the Reverend Sarah. I stared at her long and hard. She returned
my gaze for long periods, even making a few errors in her reading of their
scriptures (ha, ha). Each time she looked at me, I smiled sweetly back at
her, thinking, "I will be your new god".
The service continued with Sarah's sermon, in which her clipped English
accent wafted out over the congregation. Then Sarah moved to the centre of
the altar to begin the prayers of consecration. The rest of the congregation
knelt, and I, obviously remained sitting. After the service was
over, Sarah went to the door of the church to greet her departing
parishioners. As I exited the church, I shook hands with Sarah and looked
deep into her eyes, and she blushed.
"Good service", I lied.
"Gosh, you're an israelian", replied Sarah. "I do hope that you are enjoying
your stay here. If there is anything I can do.", she went on. I didn't let
her finish the sentence, "I want to come and speak to you about something
important. Coffee, tomorrow morning, 10am in the village coffee shop", I
said in a commanding tone and walked off, knowing full well that she would
be there.
At 9.30am, the reverend Sarah Smythe was seated in the coffee shop, dressed
in a grey two piece jacket and skirt, black clerical collar, with tan
stockings and grey high-heeled shoes. I arrived at 11 am and Sarah was still
there waiting. I was dressed in a leather biker's jacket, tight white
T-shirt, black fishnet stockings, and scuffed black ankle length leather
stiletto heeled boots. Around the heel and middle of my right boot, was
wrapped a pair of rosary beads. My hair was down and blowing wild.
As I entered the coffee shop, Sarah's jaw dropped. I could tell she was
eating me up with her eyes. As I sat down I said, "I should properly
introduce myself: I am Princess Natalie", and I held out my hand, palm down:
the traditional posture to invite a kiss to the hand.
Sarah stammered, "Y-you are royalty?" I looked deep into her eyes and said,
"Actually, I am more than royalty, but I will come to that later. Have your
manners totally deserted you, reverend?, I said, indicating my hand which
was still outstretched and waiting. "I believe I am entitled to some show of
respect from you, a courtsey and a handkiss, if I am not mistaken". The
conviction in my voice was absolute. "Oh, yes, indeed", she burbled. Sarah
rose from hr chair, did a low courtsey in front of me, and then took my
hands and placed a very gentle kiss across the tops of my fingers. Several
heads in the coffee shop tuned as their elegant lady vicar knelt before an
israelian biker chick and kissed her hand.
As Sarah resumed her seat I continued, "You will address me as 'Princess
Natalie' or 'highness' in all our conversations. Is that quite clear?"
"Y-yes of course, highness", she stammered. When the coffee had arrived, one
cup was placed in front of me, and one in front of Sarah. "What do you
normally take in your coffee?", I asked her.
"Just milk", she replied. "Well, today in my honour, you will not enjoy your
coffee. I want you to offer up the experience as a small sacrifice to your
new god." When she showed a puzzled look, I said, "You do believe in the
value of penance, don't you?"
"Yes, of course I do, highness. I am a priest after all". As Sarah watched,
I poured salt into her coffee. "You will drink every drop", I said, "and
think of me while you are drinking it". Sarah did not object or complain: I
knew that she was well on the way to being mine.
"Now", I said, "tell me about your faith in god?" "Well, really, I have
always believed in God. Daddy was a vicar- man of great faith", she said
earnestly. "I suppose I have always looked for some force to guide my life;
and when the church decided to ordain women to the priesthood, I decided to
give my life to god through priesthood and celibacy."
"Really", I said, looking bored. "Let's get a breath of fresh air", I
suggested. "Take me to see your parents graves".
She looked really pleased by this suggestion. "Oh, certainly, highness, if
you really want to."
I walked out and left Sarah to pay for the coffees. Her car was parked
across the street, a nice large volvo. Sarah expected me to get in the front
passenger seat, but I went to the back door. "You understand, reverend, I am
royalty. It is beneath me to sit up front with you. I will sit in the back,
and you will act as my chauffeur".
Again Sarah complied with my wishes. She rushed to open the back door for
me, and closed it after I had taken my seat. We drove for several miles to a
small graveyard. Sarah stopped the car, and opened my door. We walked into
the graveyard until we came to the spot. "This is daddy's grave and that's
mummy's next to him", she said.
I proceeded to walk up the length of her mother's grave. "Oh, please,
highness", Sarah began, looking somewhat distressed.
"Be quiet", I told her. "Where I come from, people consider it a privilege
and an honour to be under my feet. Stop snivelling and come and join me. I
am sure your mother will appreciate the gesture".
Slowly Sarah walked up the length of her mother's grave. "If you say so,
highness".
So he didn't feel left out, I suggested we trample over her father's grave
as well.
Back in the car I said, "Don't you feel better, Sarah. You are going to have
to learn to trust me. Tell you what, Sarah", I said, "I am going to give up
a week of my time to come and live with you in the vicarage to help you get
to know which direction you are going in. What do you say?" "I would like
that, highness", she beamed.
We drove to my mansion hide-away so that I could collect my clothes, then
Sarah drove me back to the vicarage, which was right next door to the
church. The vicarage was a huge Victorian church, with a study, a library,
dinning-room, and five large bedrooms. Sarah showed me to the guestroom, but
I told her I would be taking over her bedroom.
I spent the next four days with Sarah, and she grew deeper and deeper under
my spell. At first she was troubled by 'little things'. But I replied
firmly that that's where I wanted it to be. She accepted this.
On the Friday evening, I decided it was time to put her to the test. I
dressed in my power clothes: black short, tight dress, black stockings,
black stiletto heeled shoes, and my hair tied back. She was writing her
sermon in the library. I went in and sat in one of the large red leather
armchairs.
"Sarah", I announced, "I have decided to leave you now". She turned around
in her seat, her face was ashen white, and tears were filling her eyes.
"But, why, highness?" She actually began to sob, "P-please don't leave me"
"I am prepared to stay, Sarah, but only if you accept me on my terms".
Realising that there was a chance, Sarah said eagerly, "I-I'll do anything
you say. Please, stay."
You must accept me", I said, "not only as your princess, but also as your
goddess.
Falling to her knees, Sarah said, "I choose you Goddess Natalie. You are my
saviour", she said shuffling towards me on her knees. Falling before me she
began licking my black pumps. "Now, slave Sarah, let's go into the church so
that you can worship me properly.
Sarah got up off the floor before me, and went to get the keys of the
church. As we both walked over from the vicarage to the church, Sarah kept
her eyes on me. She took a big iron key and opened the church door, and we
went inside. It was dark and quiet within. Sarah put on some of the lights
at the altar.
We went up in to the sanctuary area, at the front of the church, where the
altar is situated. To the left of the altar, there was a small red lamp
burning in front of a wall safe.
I then climbed on to the altar, and reclined as if lying on a sofa, and
said, "The stage is yours, slave Sarah. Worship me." Sarah was still dressed
in her two piece grey suit, black clerical shirt, tan stockings and grey
shoes. She took out a large gold plate, which had about 200 small white
bread hosts on it.
"This is in your honour, Goddess Natalie", she said and began scattering the
hosts on the stone floor at the front of the altar, as she walked backwards.
So in front of the altar, the scattered hosts formed a little white carpet.
I slid off the altar and began walking on the hosts, crushing and grinding
them under the heels and soles of my shoes. I then sat on the altar again.
Sarah got up from her kneeling position and went to the tabernacle again.
She then brought this bowl over to me as I sat on the altar, and said,
"Goddess Natalie, for you to bath your feet." I sat upright on the altar,
with my legs dangling over the side. I slipped off my stiletto heels, and
let my hot, sweaty nylon encased feet slip into the wine. What power I felt,
washing my feet with wine. The wine felt cool as it washed between
my toes and around the soles of my feet and heels. As Sarah knelt in front
of me holding the bowl, I lifted my right foot out of the bowl and pushed my
wet nylon covered toes into her mouth. Sarah eagerly sucked the consecrated
wine out of my nylons. Only when my feet were well and truly bathed, did I
then tell Sarah to put the bowl on the floor.
"Lap it up like a dog", I told her. Sarah knelt on all fours and began
lapping up the consecrated wine. I patted her head and said, "Good dog. You
will keep your dog collar on", I said, referring to her clerical shirt, "to
remind you that you are my dog now." I let her continuing lapping until the
wine was finished. "Before we go back to the vicarage, slave Sarah", I said,
"I want you to take all your clothes off."
Without even a moment's hesitation, Sarah stood and began to undress. She
had a very slim body, with small firm tits. "On your knees, dog", I snapped.
As I walked on the stone floor, my stockinged feet, wet and sticky from
their bath in the consecrated wine, stood on the hosts I had crushed
earlier. Pieces of hosts began sticking to my feet.
We left the church to return to the vicarage, Sarah naked and crawling on
her hands and knees, and me walking along side her in my stockinged feet. As
I walked along the grass path between the vicarage and the church, I made
sure to trample any hosts that were stuck to my feet into the dirt.
Once inside the vicarage, I let Sarah undress and bath me. After this we
retired to her room. "I will sleep now", I said. "But you will kneel at the
foot of my bed and repeat the prayer, 'Natalie is my saviour' until the
dawn. When you repeat my name, I want you to hurt yourself - either scratch
or pinch yourself- as a sign of your love for me. That way, you will be
ready to serve me again when I arise in the morning