She decides to confess to the rather forbidding priest in the old chapel, but Father Donovan has very old-fashioned ideas about discipline, and what constitutes a suitable penance. A harsh spanking across the altar is only the start of an encounter that will leave Kelly thoroughly chastised…and not at all chaste.
Warning: This story contains religious themes. Please don’t buy it if you’re likely to be offended by lecherous, blaspheming priests taking thorough and graphic advantage of naive but willing young college girls.
The way he said the word made it sound much more like a command than a question. His eyes glinted in the darkness, and the back of Kelly’s neck began to ache from keeping her head tilted to look up at him. She found herself nodding automatically. Something about the sheer presence of the man made it hard for her to even think about disobeying him.
“Donovan. Tell me, were you punished for your transgression?”
“No, Father. That’s the problem.”
Now she was telling the scary priest that she needed to be punished? As soon as she got out of here, Kelly decided she would simply staple her lips shut and have done with it, before her mouth got her into even more trouble.
Her answer seemed to spark something in Father Donovan’s eyes – a dangerous gleam that brought a sudden lump to Kelly’s throat, and made her heart skip a beat.
The priest gave a small, curt nod, his penetrating eyes never leaving hers.
He gestured towards the corner of the chapel. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the dimness, Kelly could see a single confessional with one of those yellow plastic signs in front of it, like supermarkets used to warn you about something spilled on the floor.
“Roof leaked. Haven’t got the funds yet to repair the damage. I’ll take your confession right here.”
Kelly’s head darted from side to side, surveying the silent chapel.
“Trust me,” he said, his small, grim smile the only sign Kelly had yet seen that this man even had anything like a sense of humor, “no one else is going to come in here. We’re completely alone.”
Kelly shivered. That wasn’t as reassuring as he might have meant it to be.
“OK. But I don’t think I can do it with you looking at me like that.”
He gave a small, vaguely affirmative grunt, then took a seat in the pew immediately behind hers. Kelly heard the wood creak as he settled his tall frame onto the bench.
Kelly turned sideways, her shoulders twisting to keep him in sight.
Kelly looked toward the front of the chapel. The stone altar in front of her was reassuringly solid, and she kept her eyes on it as she took a deep breath.
She would confess about the stealing – after all, that was the part which was bothering her. He didn’t have to know about any of the…other stuff.
Kelly suspected, OK she knew, that the ‘other stuff’ was in fact a sin – probably several. But, it was the stealing which truly weighed on her conscience. Confessing that should be safe enough. Perhaps it would even make her feel better.
He was right, after all. This was the way Kelly had been taught to deal with sin.
“B…bless me Father, for I have sinned.”
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About the Author
I write erotica, often with a BDSM kink.
I was born in Chicago in the 80s (no, I'm not telling you what year - a girl has to have some secrets).
I was always a bit of a wild child. My stories are mostly about good girls who end up submitting to dominant, older men. (Autobiographical? Who, me?)
I try to write my sex raunchy, and make the situations and characters believable. For me, if there's no build-up, or I read something and think, "But, she wouldn't do that!" then it kills the experience.
I write about encounters and situations that turn me on and get me hot. Some of them are (loosely) based on things that really happened, others are based on things I only wish had happened!