Semmon stood stone still - but his eyes danced afire - as Anya began to sway; her motions were unmistakably sensual and he began to wonder if her profession were that of a dancer; perhaps more.<br/><br/>As she turned away from him only to thrust her hips out and glance over her shoulder, he gave her a nod, to show that he approved - quite emphatically. The priest stepped up close behind her, throwing a possessing hand down across one buttock. "How your body language speaks - and its words ring true. A purely pragmatic changing will not suffice at all for an occasion such as this, for a blonde beauty such as you. No...under the eyes of Sharess, more must be shown." He clasped her ear with both hands down, one palm cupping each cheek, first over her skirt - then, slipping up underneath, feeling the curves of the bare skin, and playing at her thong with a fingernail. "Yet tension from your trauma and capture remain. These must be worked out. You must be<em>loosened</em>- without and within. You must be made to forget the past, by being utterly claimed and lost in the present."<br/><br/>The priest pulled her panties down from under her skirt, even as one hand pulled back to undo his own rope belt and the cording at the crotch of his own loose cotton pants. Soon enough, though, he had drawn himself flush to her backside, such that his own abs kept her skirt held against the small of her back - leaving her bare beneath. Anya would soon enough be able to feel Semmon's own state; firm hips pressed against her buttocks, and, a far firmer phallus pressed into the cleft. Semmon began to rub himself along her, and soon Anya would feel the hardness pointing not downward through her cleft, but up.