To make matters worse, I know that all I need to do is look into Clarise’s eyes for her to come after me. And, from there, it’s only a matter of time until I pin her against the wall and rip the clothes off her body. Her delicious, sweet, body. Everything in her seems to have been designed by God’s hand itself—her perky breasts, her rosy nipples, the delicious mound between her thighs… Just thinking of that is enough to make me rock hard.
Jesus, I’m so lost that I --
I stop thinking when I see a shadow moving on the other side of the confessionary. There’s a wooden panel separating the confessee from the confessor, and so I can’t see who has just sat down on the other side; all is can see is … her shadow.
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," I hear Clarise’s voice coming from the other side, and my heart jumps inside my chest so hard that I can almost feel it beating in my throat.
"Clarise, what are you doing?" I hiss, raising my head and looking straight at the panel separating us.
"What does it look like? Confessing my sins, of course," she whispers, and the sweet sound of her voice makes me run my tongue between my lips with anticipation.
"I’m not a priest, Clarise, I can’t --"
"You don’t need to be a priest. God will forgive me, or not. All I want is for someone to hear my confession," she continues and, even though I know it must be a trap, I simply can’t make my body respond to the frightened commands of my brain. As such, I keep my knees on the padded support underneath me, swallowing hard as I feel a feverish warmness taking over my body.
"Confess then," I find myself saying, straining to get the words out.
"I’ve met a man…" she starts, her words coming out more like a purr than a whisper. "And I’ve sinned with that man. I’ve offered him my body and he took it…"
"You shouldn’t have done it," I tell her, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears. I’m not sure what kind of game we’re playing right now, but one thing I know: it’s not going to end well.
"But I wanted to… My mind wanted it, my body wanted it. And, even though he said he didn’t want it, he did." Even though I can’t see her face right now, I can tell that there’s a grin on her face. She’s enjoying this. She knows that she’s teasing me, and she’s enjoying every single second of it.
"How did you know he wanted it?"
"Because… A man might be able to lie with his mouth, but he can’t lie with his cock." The word cock feels so out of place in the chapel that I almost wince at the sound of it; but, at the same time, I feel warm blood rushing down between my thighs, making my cock twitch inside my boxer briefs.
"And that cock…" she continues, "oh, I’ve sinned in all manners with it. I’ve had it in my mouth, I’ve had it in my pussy… and every time I did it, I felt more alive than I've ever felt. I can’t think of anything else, Father. I dream of it every night, and I ache for that man to be by my side when I wake up."
My cock has already graduated from twitching, now it’s hardening with each and every word that comes out of Clarise’s mouth. It strains hard against my pants and, if she doesn’t shut up real quick, it might rip its way out.
"You should try to let go of all that," I tell her, but deep down I don’t want her to listen to me. No, I want her to keep chasing and lusting after me… And I want to think of her waking up in her bed, her pussy so wet that her panties stick to her body.
"What if I can’t let go?" she asks me and by now my cock is already as hard as concrete. I can’t even think straight.
Clarise’s right; a man might lie with his words, but he can’t do it with his cock. And, right now, my cock is being as truthful as it has ever been.
"If you can’t let go … you’ll have to pay your penance."
25
Clarise
"And what’s my penance going to be?" I ask him through the wooden panel, and I can almost feel him grin.
"Why don’t you come here and find out?" he whispers and, before I even know what I’m doing, I’ve already gone up to my feet. Feeling dizzy and out of myself, I let my feet carry me to the other side of the confessionary.
Connor’s already standing up when I get there, and he moves so fast that all I see is a blur. Grabbing me hard, he then pushes me and presses me back against the wall. Grabbing my arms, he forces me to raise them over my head and pins them there; leaning into me, he crushes his mouth against mine, kissing me in sweet abandonment.
"You’ll be my fucking ruin," he breathes out, slowly pulling his lips out from mine.
"Only if you let me be yours," I shoot right back at him, desire welling up inside my chest and making my heart beat anxiously.
Gritting his teeth while he looks into my eyes, he finally lets go of my arms and takes one step back. "Take off your dress," he tells me firmly, the commanding tone of his voice sending a shiver up my spine.
"Is this my penance…? To obey? To be used?" I tease him, but he doesn’t even crack a smile.
"Do what I tell you to," he commands me, and I have no other option but to do it. Obediently, I take my fingers to my shoulders and start pulling down the straps of my dress, letting them slide down my arms. I keep on tugging at my dress until it’s all bunched up around my waist, and then I sway my hips from side to side, allowing the fabric to slide down my arms and pool around my ankles.