confessing your sins to priest!simon riley
"forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. it has been a week since my last confession."
a grunt sounds from the other side of the cage-like mesh that separates you from your church's priest. your thighs press together, and you chide yourself for the reaction it incites. you're disgusted with yourself at your sin, yet you cannot stop the thud beneath your ribcage that excites at the thrill.
"back so soon?" his words are merely teasing, condescending, unlikely for a priest, but simon tends to get off script. "what is it this time, kid? steal again?"
no. you shook your head despite the wall that separates you. the silence is deafening, save for the creak of the chair you're sat it, wood carved with delicate curves and ornate crosses.
"no, Father. forgive me for my lust and the actions I have committed."
"lust, you say?" he goes silent, save for the rustle of fabric on the other side. it makes you anxious, even more guilt-ridden than before. you swear you can feel his judgement through the wall that separates you. "go on."
a shaky sigh escapes you, your knuckles turning white with your clenched fists in your lap. "yes, Father, lust. I... viewed pornography."
red hot embarrassment coats your skin, much like the blood of those who died for your sin. you were a meek teenage girl, barely eighteen with insatiable urges and an inappropriate crush. you could only confess one of those sins, for the latter is the more shameful one of the two.
a sound of interest cuts the silence. "what was the pornography? a video? a photo?"
"yes." you admit shamefully, biting your lip. you still remembered how your dainty fingers circled your clit, riddled with disgust as you got yourself off on the religious display of porn. a priest and his devotee.
a satisfied hum comes from the other side, and you want to die of mortification. "describe the video."
"wh...what?" you blanched.
he surged onwards without a hint of awkwardness or shame. you couldn't begin to imagine the expression on his rugged face. "describe it. how many people were there?" he queried.
"there...was two people, Father. a man and a woman."
your face burned further. you almost didn't want to admit it, but silence was a greater sin than admittance and pleading for forgiveness. with a hushed mumble, you spoke into your chest. "a church."
"what was that?" he pushed. "speak up, kid. can't hear ya when yer mumblin'."
"a church." you hated how the words seemed to echo off the walls, lingering within the silence that consumed and gnawed at your conscience. like the whole world needed to hear your sin.
he hummed with interest. "is that so?"
silence stretched. it was unbearable, an uncomfortable itch settling beneath your skin that, along with your urges, you could scratch. he finally spoke, "who were they to the church?"
"you are ashamed." it was more statement than question because it was obvious from the way you stuttered, to how your words shook, to how you refused to go onwards. "'ts okay. best thin' y'can do is ask for forgiveness. get it off yer chest."
"yes, Father." you said, but it was a mere whisper. you didn't want to confess, for it would unveil the true nature of your indulgences—not just the fact you'd watched videos of people fucking but that they were of a priest and his devotee.
your fantasies were immoral and shameful, something to be deeply ashamed of, but your body couldn't help but react. it was wrong, you knew it, and indulged it anyways. rewarded your body with your fingers circling your swollen clit and plunged deep in your soaking pussy, replacing them in your mind with the thick, rough fingers of your priest. his hand strong, veined and capable of providing you with everything you craved and ached for.
but you couldn't admit it. couldn't admit your priest was the source of your sin, with his tall stature that towered over your meek in comparison frame. thick muscles that strained at the seams against his cassock and clerical collar—because there wasn't a size available to fit without constraint. you could only imagine how mouth watering his bare skin was—carved like marble to create a masterpiece. the epitome of sin. veins that flexed and rippled under his pale skin with his every word.
he cleared his throat, killing the silence. you had forgotten to continue, leaving you two in a deafening quiet until he reminded you. "talk to me, baby. who were they?"
your pussy fluttered at the pet name, forcing your thighs to clench together. the dampness in your panties was apparent, arousal sticking to the cotton and your skin. it shouldn't affect you this much, considering he called all the young kids at church some sweet endearment—sweetheart, honey, baby. it was innocent, but to your debauched conscience, it was anything but.
"it was..." you begin, the words catching on your tongue. with a shaky sigh, you forced it out. "a priest and someone from the church."
he didn't say anything, letting the creak in the wood speak for them. the harsh rustle of fabric whenever either of you moved an inch. you could never come back here, you decided. overran by your debauched immorality, you'd have to find a new church, forget about the brutish priest with sharp features and alluring eyes.
"hm." was the only sound he made for a while, letting you soak in the filth of your indulgences, brew in the depravity you couldn't help but live and breath in.
after an agonizing handful of minutes that felt like years, he finally spoke. "you wish to seek forgiveness?" the words caused a flutter, static rushing your ears. it drowned out the sound of a zipper and the soft clank of metal.
you breathed out in soft relief, nodding with an unmatched amount of desperation. "yes, Father. please."
a sharp slap of wood hitting wood filled the air, coming from beneath the lip of the confession booth. you peeked your head underneath, heart thudding so hard, you feared your ribs would break and allow your heart escape.
there was a small, circular hole that opened up to the other side. on the other side, a familiar, veiny hand strained around a thick, aching cock dripping with pre. it throbbed an angry red, and it twitched with every squeeze of his hand. you froze in shock, but couldn't help the way your mouth watered.
"get on your knees and pray for forgiveness then, baby."
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