The author retains copyright to this story. Reproducing this story for distribution without the author's express permission is a violation of that copyright. Copyright 2002

The Crucible


Morgan Blackthorne

"Kneel and receive the communion of our lord." They were words I had heard since I was a child. Always I had knelt and drank from the golden goblet. Always had each sacrament infused my soul with boundless light.

The Order of Lingam, most people have not heard of it. We are open to all who are sincere in their search for God. One clear distinction between ours and all other churches, we believe God can be best worshiped and prayed to through the erect phallus.

Attendance of service is always in nakedness. You wear the suit God gave you without shame. In fact nowhere in the temple is clothing allowed save for a few places and times when a form of toga is worn.

The laws of the land we live in are socially and morally primitive. Still, we operate within the law for it is important to our lives that we respect the rules of the society within which we choose to live. (Even when those laws, morals and views are in opposition with the forces of love and spiritual beauty.)

The sacrament is afforded our services through the sacrifice of they who are known among us as crucibles. Unlike the normal understanding of a crucible, ours are living breathing flesh, chosen from the Brotherhood of the Rod.

It is an honor to be called by God to become a crucible. Of those who feel the calling, only a few are actually chosen. This tale is an introduction to my life and how I was to become a holy receptacle for God's spirit.

My father had joined the O.L. when I was 2 years old. My mother had been killed in a boating accident. This tragedy I came to understand as I grew older and the impact it had on my father and the decimation he had felt.

How do you transform a husband and father of a child, once secure in his own heterosexuality into a fervent and confirmed cocksucker?

The answer is, you don't. No one can make that happen without some form of rape involved. Thus, if the change is to be honest, like all change, it must come from within.

My father came to know God through the willing worship of other men's cocks. We actually call them Lingam in our church. If you will pardon my use of such vulgarities, I myself have often found there are times when you indeed see a "lingam" before you and other times when you just need a "cock" in your mouth.

I am known to use vulgar terms to describe often intimate and sacred acts. Such is my nature and I make no apology for it. It is simply part of who I am. Ultimately, and I say it with a proud grin, each of us is a cocksucker.

Rather than go into depth about my fathers life at this time, I feel it appropriate to point out that a son cannot participate in the Brotherhood of the Rod until he has reached sexual maturity. The brotherhood is an integral part of the Order of Lingam.

Boys inside the church and outside, all over the world, often grow up playing and experimenting with themselves and their friends and it was no different for me. I went to church on Sundays and participated in the meditations and testimony to God. Then it was off to Sunday school to learn about life, love, peace, and conflict resolution without violence. The topics were many and varied but all with a similar universal theme. All life is sacred.

Sacrament is passed out to all who wished to freely partake of it. In drinking from the chalice, one affirms their commitment to holding life sacred, to living with integrity and most important of all, to accepting the covenant of God.

Growing up, I never knew why the semen in the chalice consistently tasted so deliciously smoky-sweet. I had tasted my own seed, and that of my friends growing up. Later when I was older, I was able to partake directly of my fathers seed.

They all were imbued with a wide range of tastes. They ranged from salty, to slightly bitter, occasionally, smoky, and on rare occasion slightly sweet. The sacrament was and always has been a delightful nectar of male essence, that at times, I often took a greedy gulp of it rather than a sip as was expected.

This gulping behavior is not uncommon, but it does afford a possibility that some one wanting to receive the sacrament, might not be able to if the chalice was empty when they went to partake of it.

What I didn't know then, that I do know now, is that in our temple, I needn't have worried. The principle of not gulping more than your share was more to address the problems in the world of greed and gluttony.

I am sure in our churches past, there may have indeed been Sabbaths when supplies of sacrament were low and thus there was a need to sip, not gulp the sacrament. Those indiscretions however are now in my past as I write this.

The understandable greed that even the best of children can succumb to from time to time is perhaps the best explanation for my behavior though certainly not a complete one.

Often I saw the Deacons carry empty chalices back to the Sacred Father to receive new, full cups. This happened almost every Sunday and especially as our congregation grew. So I didn't feel as guilty as perhaps I should have when I happily gulped down larger quantities of sacrament than was the custom.

Once I reached the age of sexual maturity, I was able to fully participate in the Brotherhood. Often, side by side, I would kneel with my father, together we would be sucking and worshiping the offered cock of God together.

When I advanced through the ranks through teaching and instruction, I would divide my time between those moments when I worshiped and drew God into me through the firm, yet yielding splendor of his instrument.

Then at times, I would become for a short while, a conduit through which God passed. During those times, my entire essence and being was channeled and focused through my Lingam into the mouth of the worshiper.

I first approached the Sacred Father of our church and told him of the calling I felt. Though I knew not why, God had chosen me to become a crucible for the church.

Many months were spent talking and being questioned. Motives, thoughts, feelings, spirit, heart, head, all were all examined and tested in one way or another.

After 3 months, I was offered the chance to take the trials to see if I was indeed meant to become one of the sacred who provided sacramental seed for the congregation.

My father had asked me on many occasions if it is what I really wanted. Though he was proud of me, we had both become quite accustomed to sharing worship with each other during the week. I loved his cock, I loved sucking him, feeling him in my mouth, down my throat. There was a bond between us, that he did not want to change, I think he loved sucking my cock every bit as much as I loved his and in secret, some part of me wanted to stay the same as well.

My calling however was a stronger force within my own soul. After many nights where father and I had hugged, held each other, suckled and nursed seed from each others cocks, I decided in the end, that I could not ignore what God was saying to me.

The life of a crucible

Some men in our church do not understand it. Though all are appreciative and very grateful that there are crucibles, many just cannot understand the calling. The fact that from the moment you are fully made a crucible, your own phallus becomes the most sacred of instruments and for the duration of your service, it will not be placed in another's orifice, nor shared or touched in any intimate manner that may cause the premature casting forth of seed. This is what perplexes most who pontificate upon it. Why would any sane Lingam worshiper agree to in effect, stop getting head, fucking ass, even stop masturbating? The later was never a problem. I always had my father or a friend to hungrily suck down my seed and so had no need to masturbate. Still the choice did perplex men such as my father.

Our Lingam and seed become sacred to the extent that our duty to God and the congregation we serve forces us to deny sexual and spiritual joy through our own phallus save in that service to the congregation. In essence, we are the celibate chosen of the erect God, but not celibate as you might understand it.

You see, a Crucible's Lingam does not know or partake of the pleasure of a hand, mouth, anus or even vagina again, for as long as one remains a Crucible. In time, as Crucibles age, the calling slowly leaves them and over time and they retire to become elders of the church and once again function with the membership fully.

A crucible that is young and able to serve, can go mad if torn away from the calling too soon. With all things, time and God must determine when service is to draw to a close, not the individual.

The function of a Crucible is to provide the sacrament from which all drink. It is his duty therefore to go forth into the world. Week after week, collecting within himself, the holy seed of men everywhere. Through his mouth, into his belly, the seed of man is transubstantiated into the sacrament of God.

On Sunday, when the Sacred Father calls, each Crucible steps forward. With the sacred father pointing the Crucible's Lingam into a chalice, without stimulation, the Crucible proceeds to ejaculate a week of built up and collected semen.

The volume of holy seed a Crucible can produce is represented by the sheer number of men, who's own essence the Crucible has been able to collect and transform into sacrament. The amount of sacred ejaculate is truly staggering to witness.

Prior to the trials I would partake of to become one, I had been shown this process. The ecstasy and rapture of the crucible at that moment of pouring forth, was almost as stunning to see as the sheer volume of semen one would produce.

Were I to describe it to you who has not been to our services, let me just say, imagine a goblet that could contain the contents of a soda can and not be full. Then imagine one 30 minute long, continuous orgasm, without any assistance of any kind. Picture a man filling that goblet to the brim with semen and you may have an inkling of what it was like as I stood there and witnessed the process.

The glow radiating from the Crucible left me without a doubt that what he was experiencing was God on a plane I had previously dared not dream of.

After a Crucible had milked forth God's sacrament and no more would come out, the Crucible would fall into a deep, peaceful slumber. Carried off by loving deacons who would wash his body and softly care for and tend them while they floated in what I came to know as the sleep of God's embrace.

My first trial was so difficult, I cannot tell you to this day how I passed it. On the new moon, I was taken to a secret inner sanctum of the temple. I knelt before an alter and received my instructions from our sacred father.

I was to pray to God and on each down stroke of my head, I was to ask God to possess me and charge me. On each up stroke of my head, I was to thank God for the opportunity to serve him and worship him. If I was accepted by God and in order to begin the trials, God would reward me in the fullness of my downward stroke. Were God to reward me on an upstroke, I was to be thankful, but accepting that God had not chosen me to begin the trials.

I knelt there before the alter waiting and meditating for some time. Eventually, right before my eyes, emerged the largest uncut cock I had ever seen. Whether I was having a vision or it was a condition of the lighting, what I saw before me coming out of the alter was the most beautiful hooded shaft of God I had ever born witness to.

Immediately, and with reverent fervor, I began to worship and suckle the massive God before me. It stretched my jaws to the breaking point. My mouth pooled with saliva. The heart shaped head was slowly emerging from the sheath as it slipped inside my mouth and through the worship of my tongue.

Words cannot describe the joy and rapture of that moment. A pulse of God's shaft and my mouth was bathed in a sea of heavenly God flavor. Sweet, clear nectar to lubricate my mouth and throat came fourth in abundance. Greedily I swallowed God's offering, making sure to coat my throat thoroughly along the way.

It took me time. Each cock is its own God and one should always treat them as individuals. Some like a slight scraping of teeth. Others become angry with the slightest hint of scraping.

Learning a new God is in its self a religious experience. Tracing each vein down the shaft and committing it to memory. Learning the head and how to use your tongue to provide the greatest pleasure to God.

Each cock that has ever gone into my mouth has had the full devotion of my worship and care in learning its pleasure.

The God I now held sacred in my mouth was hard as any steel, yet soft and yielding to the pressure of my tongue. Massive in its length and girth so that from the moment I started, my jaws ached with a stretching they had never endured before.

Please believe me my brothers, I have worshiped some massive cocks in my life. I had learned and eventually mastered them all. None of them could have prepared me for this one.

On an on I worshiped. Inch by agonizing inch, I slowly worked more and more of this divine being into my mouth and down my throat. My aching jaws needed to learn this new God. They needed to stretch further than they had to before without fail.

My own cock throbbed in an almost painfully hard splendor. Untouched and ready, each throb of my own considerable lingam paid homage to the lord I was now host to.

The pre-nectar that flowed from this God was like soft warm milk that had been ever so lightly sweetened. It lubricated my throat, mixed with the huge amounts of saliva I was producing and happily made its way into my stomach.

Praying to God, I was filled with an image of my stomach. Were I to pass the trials, my stomach would be transformed into a holy carrier for God's will.

My throat was the next part of my body to complain. It ached and stretched to accommodate the girth of my God. Far from finished, more than half of God's shaft still lay outside my mouth, throbbing and bidding me to welcome all of him.

I focused on my prayers. Telling my jaws and throat to stretch and learn. Imagining my belly becoming a sacred bowl where God's nectar would begin its process.

More and more of the mighty God slipped into my throat. Soft tears of joy seeped from my eyes as inch by inch, God's will was fed into my being.

Surely, my throat was stretched to obscene proportions. I imagined that if one were to look, the mighty head of God's cock could clearly be seen outlined in my throat. Undeterred, I remembered my breathing exercises and continued my decent onto God's hard yet supple love.

It is a difficult feeling to describe to those who have not felt it. However, once you have had a truly thick and long cock completely down your throat. Buried to the balls in your mouth. There can for some come the sensation of true possession.

Possession happens when the cock in your already stretched throat flexes hard enough to force your throat to expand even more.

It is a pulse of the shaft and head so strong, that despite your own limitations, your throat is forced to expand even further to accommodate.

It is as these times that one surrenders self to God and possession takes place. Nothing exists in the world any more save for the God that is in your throat, willing your body to accommodate cock without thought. Cock without question. Cock without will save for the overriding and all encompassing desire to service that cock which now holds possession of your mind, body and spirit.

In a gentle moment, I was taken to a higher place. The pain in my mouth and throat no longer mattered. Only the pleasure of God mattered. With a soft whimper of devoted servitude, my body unabated yet in concert with my own will, started worshiping God's cock.

It is not like being a passenger in your own body. True possession is not like that. What happens is that God's will and your will merge into one will. Yes, you will do anything at that moment that God tells you to do, but strangely, it is in complete and total harmony with the will of the self.

My nostrils flared and air was forced into my lungs. The mighty God in my throat would flex hard, stretching me and then abate. My throat began to swallow and massage God during the moments of firm rest. So thus, was a rhythm developed.

God would stretch my throat, then when that pulse had passed, my throat would massage God's head and shaft. In between my nostrils flared and air was forced into my lungs.

Brothers, I do not know how all of this worked. I can only tell you that it happened this way. My body became the servant of God. It no longer performed to my will, but God's will. A will that was in complete concert with my being. A will that was then, now, and forever more, born to serve.

On and on my mouth and throat milked God's mighty cock. On and on, God's cock stretched out in my throat, establishing without doubt, its mastery of my soul with each throbbing pulse. Infinity and the universe poured out of me and through me and I became one as I suckled and worshiped the mighty God that was now alive inside of me.

My tongue was working shaft and balls when it could reach them. My head was moving of its own accord, bobbing up and down, pulsing and milking with every stroke.

Somewhere I had the presence of mind to remember my prayers and in so saying them, a pattern, almost geometrical, developed and unfolded before me. Music and rhythm beat a tune through the cosmos, a tune set forth by the drumming of my own heartbeat in time with all of creation.

God's nectar continued to lubricate and pour forth into my hungry belly. Slowly the pattern merged and changed, once seemingly within my control, it begun to whirl and swirl, faster and faster. Up and down, in and out. The master played and my body danced his tune.

How long I worshiped God that night, I truly could not say. I remember sucking cock, worshiping God, dancing amongst the cosmos and all of it seemed to be for an ecstatic eternity.

What I do know is this. When I awoke, it was like coming out of a fog. Two brothers, deacons I believe were attending to my body. As I heard them whispering, they were concerned that my mouth would not seem to close. I knew at that point on some level I was no longer on the alter, I swear I could still feel God's cock inside me, deep in my throat. Buried in my body and soul, commanding me to obey and to serve him.

My jaws no longer ached, but felt liberated. Testing them, I did indeed find it difficult if not impossible to close my mouth. Softly I whimpered and it was then that the brothers knew I was coming around.

I must have looked comical laying there with my mouth open and gaping like a fish. My throat was still swallowing, over and over again the cock that it still felt in its tissues.

Slowly I looked down my furred tummy. It seemed swollen ever so slightly and I was full. Full unlike I had ever been full in my life. In all honesty, I swear for a moment, if only for a moment, I felt pregnant with God's child. I knew then, that his seed had filled my belly.

My voice was raspy when my jaws finally started working. I tried to form words, but all that came out were gasps and whimpers. Raw and ravaged, I wondered if my voice would ever recover. Of it's own accord, my mouth kept opening wide, as if to tell the world, "I'm ready, insert cock here!" It became rather embarrassing as I had to remind myself for the next three days to literally, keep my mouth shut.

I had been told that in the first trial I had been a success. The next would be even more difficult. Until the next new moon, I was not to ejaculate in any manner, sleeping or awake. Nor was I to touch my own Lingam in any way save for those times when I needed to urinate.

This did not make sense to me and had I not been so sure then that this is what I was meant for, I surely would have stopped the trials right then and there.

Control and mastery of my own body and its functions was the focus of the next thirty days. I was expected to learn how to listen to my body and then work with it until its functions obeyed my conscious will.

I cannot describe how difficult this test is. Truly I can see why so many fail. You see, it is not like you are left alone to meditate and focus on not having an orgasm or putting it from your mind.

I was to become, for lack of a better word, a temple slut during my time in the trials of God's will.

For thirty days I was fucked in mouth and ass. Day and night, men, many who I had never even met before, came and pumped my mouth and ass full of their cum. I became a conduit of lust and male desire. I knew only the need to be filled, by mouth, by anus, I became a hungry, fuck hole who's only purpose in life was to take the cock of any man who wanted to put it in me.

I think the fucking was most difficult for me to endure the trial of not cumming, for my prostate sang out in joy every time a cock slid across it. The men in my ass played my body like an instrument made only for this symphony. Their cocks were the bow on the violin which was my body, and I sang to each and every one of those men with moans of pleasure and joy to their ministrations.

If you think you could stand to be so loved and not cum for thirty days. Think again. It is in this trial that most who wish to become a crucible fail.

One squirt of your own seed and the trial is over. Some men even try to stroke your own lingam while they make love to you. Firm yet loving vigilance is the only way to keep them from touching your swollen and aching cock.

Denial of release for thirty days is no picnic. Under the circumstances I now found myself, it truly seemed impossible.

Worse, if I recalled even a minute part of the first trial and the massive God I had worshiped with my mouth, I came frighteningly close to shooting my seed. By the second week, I was begging to cum at times and yet firm in my desire to master my own body.

Insanity crept in an out of my mind and I was sure madness was winning out. Some time during the third week, I came to realize why I was there and why I was doing this, to serve men and to serve God. When I focused on service to God and man, it became easier to control my passion and will. Perhaps not control, but focus and direct my energy.

My body became a living conduit of service to God. Through it, I would pass on God's message. Again I found myself at times floating amongst the stars, the song of the universe in tune with the beating of my own heart, the pulsing in my own balls and the throbbing of my own cock. The beat of other men's hearts as their cocks pounded the rhythm of my soul.

During the forth week, I went through bouts of sheer madness. I started speaking in tongues and my head would often thrash about. At these times, some of the brothers would gently stroke my body. Like a fine pelt of softest fur, they would gently stroke my fevered flesh and hum hymns to gently sooth my madness and trance induced spirit.

I am not sure how the timing worked out, but it was on the next new moon that the presence of a new God filled me once again.

I had just finished servicing a beautiful God with my ass when a vision of a young man entered my spirit and became one with me. I was now whole and complete.

I stood up at that moment on legs of strength I did not think I still possessed and understood. I was a crucible. It was now time to end the trials. I would now serve the people and through serving them, God's will would be worked. As a man approached me to put his lingam into me, I held up my hand. There was gentle firmness in my voice as I informed the brother that the trials were over and I had a duty to perform.

The making of a crucible culminates in the gathering of all the crucibles of the temple. There, naked and erect I was stroked and welcomed by my new brothers. Each of them was careful to hold me and welcome me without touching my lingam, which surely would have fired off it's pent up load at the slightest caress.

When I had come to know each brother crucible intimately, the rite of bonding began. The crucibles formed a circle around me, kneeled and began to pray and chant.

"You are the lord our God. We are the servants of creation. Seed is the spark that breathes life into existence."

One by one, I went around the circle. The words they chanted were known to me, though no one had told me of them.

With each brother, I would take his hair in my right hand and gently, yet with firmness that demanded obedience, pulled their heads back thus exposing their throats and opening their mouths.

"I am the light and the life. Accept my gift as you receive my spirit."

One by one, I angled their heads so that their open mouths lined up with my cock. Something inside of me gave way and unassisted, my seed burst forth into their mouths, hitting the back of their throats with three loud splats.

This process was repeated, brother after brother, each one falling backwards after receiving three massive splats in their mouths of my holy seed. Their bodies would shake uncontrollably with the power of God that was running through them.

There were 20 crucibles that day and when I was finished, all of them were laid out on the soft pillows around me. Shaking with God's power, their penises throbbing and erect in obeisance to God's will. The Deacons attended them as they fell into this state.

There was one last service to be performed. Again, I knew it without knowing how or why. I looked over at the sanctum guardian and bade him summon the Sacred Father.

Naked, kneeling before me was the holy, sacred father of our temple. This man who knelt in complete humility and subjugation, this man who had filled me with such awe and wonder. He now would receive the bulk of God's message and through that communion, he would know in which directions to lead the church. God was now speaking through me and in that moment, all would obey.

I stepped up to him and pulled his head back like all the others. I looked down on him with kind love that a father knows for a son and I spoke. "Serve me always and serve my people. Let no man know sorrow who seeks joy through my being. Let all men who wish, feel the love of God."

With those words, my Lingam, swollen and massive as never before, began spurting forth seed in a quantity that seemed all at once overwhelming if not freakishly huge.

The Sacred Father did not miss a drop of seed as it squirted and made a loud "splat" in his mouth. Failure to imbibe all of God's will was blasphemy. I filled his mouth, over and over again with huge wads of Godseed that made the Sacred Father's body quake and tremble with each mighty glob.

Fervently, our Sacred Father gulped and swallowed, over and over again. Not daring once to slow or pause for thought, lest the onslaught of my semen overcome the physical limitations of his mouth.

I am not sure how long I stood there hosing mine and God's essence into the Sacred Father's mouth. It felt like hours, yet I never tired nor seemed to run out of seed.

Slowly, I became aware of myself once again and I noted that it corresponded with the slowing of my ejaculation.

When at long last, the remaining drops of seed had fallen from my cock, of their own free will and into the Sacred Fathers mouth, I slowly began to fade. The last act of my own new will was to kiss the sacred father thrice and then I slipped into a blissful oblivion.

When I awoke, I was myself and yet not myself for I was now a crucible. Now I spend my weeks in glory holes, bath houses and anywhere there are men in need of release. Through my body, I collect their essence with fervent application of my devoted cocksucking mouth and anus.

Whenever possible, my father is always my first cock of the day. I see it in his eyes and sense it in his spirit that he misses feeding from my own rod directly, but I also see how proud he is of me and how happy he is that I am fulfilling my destiny.

My father has recently been approached by one member of the congregation to take on a foster son and I have encouraged him to accept this new responsibility and joy.

He did a wonderful job of raising me and though I am often in the "sleep of God's embrace" during Sunday worship, I smile inside knowing all, including my father are partaking of my life's work. You see, now, when I smile, the universe smiles with me.

This ends the accounting of my life as a Crucible for now. There is more I could tell, but it is enough for now to share what I have given already. To be sure there are many more functions of worship within our temple. Perhaps others will be inspired to write of them and tell you of their duties and service.

Ultimately, simply being an adult member of our church is story enough to fill volumes of books yet written. So now, I leave you my brothers in love and peace with the following prayer." May each of you who read this story and are moved by it, come to know God through the cocks of other men."

Copyright 2002 Morgan Blackthorne

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