In the beginning, Mary Magdalene, an innocent lamb, approached Jesus, who at that time, was just humble, plain 'ol Jesus. A sermon had just ended and he was resting on a stone, his divine countenance tranquil.

"Master, my feet are bruised and weary from the journey," Mary piped, her voice as soft as a doe’s. "Pray, provide me respite."

Jesus, ever the Good Shepherd, gestured for Mary to approach. "Fear not, daughter of Eve," he said, his words wholesome and pure, "I shall wash your feet, just as I have done for my disciples."

Mary sat meekly before him, feet bare, her humility matching his. Jesus took a basin of water and began to cleanse Mary's dainty feet, hands gentle, no intent to stray from the path of righteousness.

"Our Master shared with us the bread, allowed us to partake of his flesh," Jesus preached as he tenderly cleansed the dust and grime off Mary's feet, his gaze averted, his heart resolute. "So must we, in turn, serve one another."

Mary lowered her gaze, blushing because oh, the pure innocence! Not one tainted thought crossed her mind. But there, in the pit of his saintly belly, a spark ignited within Jesus. He felt an alien warmth creeping up his spine, his hands trembling ever so slightly.

"What dost thou feel, Master?" Mary asked innocently when she saw his troubled expression. Silently, Jesus prayed for serenity, yet as he cradled Mary's foot, he felt an ungodly desire coursing through his veins, a desire that was far from divine. And so, the temptation begins...

As Jesus cradled Mary's foot, the feeling of her soft, delicate skin under his fingertips stirred a primal hunger deep within him. His heart pounded, his breath hitched, and his holy eyes were now filled with an unholy fire.

"I...Mary..." He struggled with his words, the temptation gnawing at his purity. His fingers lightly traced the arch of Mary's foot, an innocent gesture transforming into a sinful caress. The crackling fire of desire spread, its tendrils weaving a wicked web around his virtuous heart.

Meanwhile, Mary - sweet, innocent Mary - looked at Jesus with wide, naive eyes. "What ails you, Master?" she asked, every word a lash to his barely hanging virtue.

Jesus looked deep into her innocent eyes, the depths of which echoed an unintentional seduction. His gaze then uncontrollably drifted to her feet, the objects of his sudden, ungodly obsession.

In one reckless moment, he found himself pressing his lips to her foot in a fervent kiss, the first seal of his damnation broken. His sacred vows cracked under the weight of his perversion, tainting the sacred moment with lustful indulgence.

A gasp slipped from Mary's lips, but before she could protest, the intoxicating taste of her skin silenced her. Jesus' deviant pleasure positively radiated as he basked in his wicked worship.

As the reality of his perverse actions sunk in, Jesus pulled away abruptly, horrified, shame instantly washing over him. But there, mirrored in Mary's wide eyes, he saw a spark of curiosity... a hint of temptation echoed from his sinful act. What had he done? What ungodly path had he shown this innocent lamb?

Even with the taste of sin bitter on his tongue, Jesus found himself drawn to the softness of Mary’s foot. Despite the guilt writhing in his belly, he yearned to surrender, yearned to submit to this perverse delight.

He glanced up at Mary, her innocent eyes wide with intrigue. Slowly, with the reverence and devotion only a divine man could muster, Jesus lowered his head and again pressed a kiss to the top of her foot. This time, though, there was no rush, no pulling away. He worshipped, he succumbed.

Mary blinked in shock, her lips parting in a silent gasp. Her heart pounded as she watched Jesus pour out his divine reverence upon her humble feet, all while grappling with the sinful indulgence of it all.

Jesus - humble, devoted Jesus - looked up at her again, his eyes now filled with a submissive surrender. "Forgive me...Mary," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper against her skin.

The room was filled with a potent mix of innocence and sin, the air heavy with repressed desires. In that moment, Jesus was no longer the shepherd, but indeed the meek lamb, his purity tainted by a taint-less maiden.

As they sat there, the quiet of the room amplifying the intensity of their sinful union, Jesus was being consumed by his deviant desire - a desire born of purity and corrupted by pleasure.

His lips lingered on Mary's foot, every subtle contour sending shockwaves of guilt-laced bliss coursing through his form. His hand delicately trailed the outline of her ankle, a silent prayer escaping his lips each passing moment.

Mary, sweet, unsuspecting Mary, she was caught in the eye of the storm - the storm that was Jesus' profound submission. He didn't pull away this time. No. He couldn't.

"P-Please..." he stuttered, his words barely audible, muffled against her foot, "G-Give me... give me your forgiveness." His hands trembled, his heart pounded, guilt and pleasure intertwined in a dance as old as time itself.

Mary's breath hitched at Jesus' unexpected submission, her innocent heart filled with inexplicable thrill. "I... I absolve you, Master," she whispered, her voice quivering under the weight of his divine submission.

Jesus raised his head to look at her, bliss and regret mirrored in his gaze. The seal of his damnation was broken - he had fallen from grace, all for the taste of sinful indulgence.

Yet the spark in Mary’s eyes hinted at something more… an invitation to more decadence? Or perhaps her own impending corruption?

In response to her unexpected forgiveness, Jesus was filled with a heart-racing mix of relief and heightened arousal. His fingers danced from Mary's ankles to the tender balls of her feet, finally coming to rest on her small, perfectly formed toes.

With a breathless plea for forgiveness, he raised Mary's foot to his mouth, panic fading into sheer desire. The first taste of her toe on his tongue sent a shockwave of pleasure zigzagging down to his core.

Jesus' eyes fluttered closed, reveling in his shameful descent. His lips wrapped around her toes one by one, his tongue swirling, sucking, licking with a sinful fervor that would make any demon blush. His heart pounded with the heady mix of guilt, submission, and arousal, his holy robes doing a poor job of concealing his throbbing arousal.

"Master..." Mary's legs quivered, her voice a sensuous murmur. A sensation she had never known began to stir in her loins, blossoming into a feverish hum. Her innocent body was responding to Jesus' sinful worship in a way she never knew it could... and she liked it.

Jesus, eyes still closed, reveled in Mary's response, his fervor only growing. He continued to devote sinful worship to her toes, daring to let a groan escape at the purely sexual pleasure.

Mary, overcome by a sudden and overwhelming tingle in her loins, let out a soft, scandalized moan. Silk-like juices began to drip down her thighs, seeping slowly down to her toes that Jesus still worshipped.

"Oh, Master...something's happening…" she whimpered in pure, innocent confusion. But Jesus didn't stop.

As the reality of her impending release hit, Mary, in childlike innocence, let it wash over her. She trembled, whimpered, and with a final carnal moan, she released her maidenhood all over Jesus' deviant lips, still wrapped around her toes.

Jesus felt the rush of her release, tasted the sweet sin of her innocence lost. He moaned against her foot and fell back, covered in the very essence of Mary's corruption.