Chapter 76 A sexy priest : Confession time
(Clearly fictional and religious…skip if you're easily triggered)
The confessional smelled of old wood and candle wax, the air thick with the weight of sins yet to be spoken.
Father Elias sat behind the latticed screen, his black cassock pooling around him like spilled ink.
Twenty years in this parish and he still felt the same jolt every time a new voice trembled through the grate, especially the young ones.
Tonight the voice belonged to Sophia.
She was nineteen, home from college for the weekend, wearing the same plaid skirt from St. Catherine’s Academy she had outgrown two years ago.
It barely skimmed the tops of her thighs when she knelt.
Elias had watched her walk up the aisle, candlelight flickering across the soft skin and nervous eyes.
He had felt the familiar tightening low in his belly, the one he told himself was only hunger.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” she began, voice small. “It’s been three months since my last confession.”
He let the silence stretch until she shifted on the kneeler. “Tell me, child.”
The list spilled out, lying to her mother, drinking at a party, letting a boy touch her under her clothes in the back of his car.
With every word her breath hitched higher, sweet and ashamed.
When she finished, Elias leaned closer to the screen.
“These are grave matters, Sophia. Impure thoughts, impure actions. Your body has become a battlefield.”
“I’m sorry, Father. I try to be good.”
“You want to be cleansed?”
“Yes. Please.”
He rose quietly and slid the panel aside. Moonlight from the stained-glass window painted her face in blues and reds.
She looked up at him, wide-eyed, lips parted.
“God has shown me a special penance for you tonight,” he said, voice low.
“One that will burn the sin from your flesh and leave you pure again.”
Sophia’s fingers tightened on the edge of the kneeler. “What kind of penance?”
He stepped into her side of the confessional and closed the door behind him.
The space was barely big enough for two. His shadow swallowed her.
“Stand up.”
She obeyed, back pressed to the wooden wall.
Elias towered over her, the white square of his collar stark against black cloth.
Slowly, deliberately, he raised one hand and laid it over her heart.
The thin cotton of her blouse did nothing to hide how fast it was beating.
“God wants to feel your repentance here,” he murmured. His palm slid lower, cupping the soft weight of her breast. Sophia gasped, but didn’t pull away.
“Father…”
“Shh. This is sacred.” His thumb brushed across her nipple; it stiffened instantly under the fabric.
“See how your body already knows what it needs? It hungers for absolution.”
He squeezed gently, then harder, rolling the peak between finger and thumb until she whimpered.
Heat surged through him, dark and victorious.
With his other hand he gathered her wrists and pinned them above her head against the wall.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
Her eyes were huge, pupils blown wide. Tears glistened but didn’t fall.
“You let a boy touch these, didn’t you?” He pinched her nipple sharply. She cried out. “Answer me.”
“Y-yes, Father.”
“And did it feel like this?”
“No,” she whispered. “Never like this.”
He smiled, slow and wolfish. “Because he was a boy. I am God’s instrument.”
He released her wrists only to yank her blouse open.
Buttons pinged against the wood. Her simple white bra cupped full, perfect breasts; he dragged it down impatiently, baring pink nipples to the cool air.
They tightened further under his stare.
Sophia’s breath came in shallow pants. “We’ll go to hell for this.”
“No, darling. I’m going to fuck the hell out of you. That’s the difference.”
The crude word from his mouth made her flinch, then moan.
He bent and took one nipple between his teeth, biting just hard enough to mark before soothing it with his tongue.
Her hands flew to his hair, clutching the short strands as if she could anchor herself against the storm.
While his mouth worked one breast, his hand shoved her skirt up to her waist.
Lace panties, damp already. He pressed two fingers against the soaked fabric and rubbed in slow circles.
“So wet from confessing your sins,” he crooned against her skin. “Your little cunt is begging for forgiveness.”
She sobbed his title, half plea, half prayer.
He hooked his fingers in the lace and ripped.
The panties tore away easily; he stuffed the ruined scrap into his pocket like a trophy.
Then he sank to his knees in the narrow space, cassock pooling around him like a dark sea, and pushed her thighs apart.
The scent of her arousal flooded his senses.
He dragged his tongue up her slit in one long, possessive lick.
Sophia’s knees buckled; he held her up by the hips and devoured her.
Every flick, every suck was deliberate, designed to unravel her completely.
When he speared his tongue inside her, she cried out so loudly he clamped a hand over her mouth.
“Not a sound,” he growled. “Or I stop.”
She nodded frantically, tears finally spilling over.
He returned to his feast, sliding two fingers into her tight heat while he sucked her clit.
Her walls fluttered around him in seconds; he felt her orgasm building and cruelly pulled away just before it crested.
“No…” she keened behind his palm.
“Not yet. You come when God says you come.”
He stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
His cock ached against the confines of his trousers, thick, desperate.
He unfastened his trousers and freed himself.
Sophia’s eyes dropped and widened at the sight of him, flushed and heavy in his fist.
“On your knees,” he said.
She sank down instantly. The kneeler was hard wood, but she didn’t hesitate. He guided himself to her lips.
“Open.”
She did, trembling. He pushed in slowly, savoring the wet heat of her mouth, the way her tongue flattened against the underside of his shaft.
When he hit the back of her throat she gagged; he held there for a heartbeat, then pulled back and began to fuck her mouth in earnest.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, mascara running black.