Vanity is a sin. To love God completely, one must not be self-absorbed.
I turn toward the mirror, running my hands down from my slim neck, over my collar bones and down to my full, taut breasts. My skin is white, so translucent I can see my veins. I palm my breasts and pinch my hardened nipples the way Father Thomas likes me to, and I immediately feel heat spread across my cheeks, gathering between my legs. I should take no pleasure in this body, it belongs to God. I should be ashamed of desiring a man of God, for tempting him. But I don’t.
My dark and devious nature brought a good man to his knees. And so, I am on a journey of repentance. I must love God and do what is required of me, use my body honor His glory, the way it was intended.
I dress then lay on my bed, waiting. In a few hours I will be called on to do the Lord’s work. It is what I was chosen for. I place my bible on my chest, close my eyes, and I recite the repentance prayer over and over again until my mouth dries,
“Precious Father in Heaven, please help me to crucify the flesh with its passions and desires and live my life no longer for my lusts but for Your will.”
I rise at five minutes to midnight, opening my door slowly. The hallway is dark, but I know the route by memory. Each step fills me with anticipation as I make my way to the main church hall.
Moonlight streams in through the stained glass windows of the church. It provides a sufficient amount of light for me to make out the long pews that dominate most of the hall. A long aisle runs down the middle of the pews and ends at the stone altar at the front of the church. My skin breaks out in goosebumps from the chill in the air. I inhale the scent of incense.
“Celeste.” His voice sends tremors through my body.
“Father.” I say breathlessly.
I can’t see him, but I know he sees me. Sister Mary Concessa doesn’t know about this. It’s another secret I’ve kept from her. She will not understand. I doubt anyone would. Father Thomas steps out of the shadows, and walks toward the altar below the statue of the divine Holy Mother. His steps are slow and calculated.
The man tied to the altar is lean, his pale skin glistening under the skylight above the altar. My feet ache from the cold, but it won’t be for long. His lips quiver from the cold. He’s naked, and I clench my thighs at the sight of him. He paid Father Thomas a lot of money for this privilege.
“Come,” Father Thomas commands, his voice is husky. I remove my headpiece and strip out of my habit. My long raven hair falls free and kisses my ass. My rosary rests between my breasts. My eyes meet the priest's across the altar. He’s watching, his own atonement for touching me was to vow never to again. He hasn’t, and I’ve suffered in silence at his rejection.
I walk over to the man. I recognize him, his name is Phillip. He’s in his thirties, married with kids. He’s a teacher in a local school. I trace my hands over his skin while Father Thomas says a prayer then pours holy oil on his body. The man gasps when the chilly liquid touches his skin. I climb onto the altar and straddle his thighs.
Phillip's eyes are wide with lust and anticipation. Pretty blue eyes that look ghostly in the moonlight shining down on us. I run my hands down my body, pausing over my breasts, kneading them slowly, throwing my head back as I rock against him. He squirms under me. It’s sinful how alluring the forbidden is. Here, men come to confess their sins, act out their filthiest fantasies, or seek redemption in other ways. There is only one true penance for sin, though, and this man realizes that. I run a hand down his chest and abs, licking my lips when I reach the base of his cock. I wrap my fingers around it and start my slow torture. He closes his eyes, a moan falling from his lips, and when my movements pick up pace, he cries out, straining against his restraints.
“Shh.” I tell him.
“You’re a bad man, aren’t you, Phillip?” I ask. “You’re here to repent. Are you ready for me to help you?” His head bobs up and down.
Father Thomas nods, encouraging me to proceed. I hover over Phillip, the tip of his dick pressing into my opening. He gasps as I lower myself onto him, taking him farther into my body inch by inch. Father Thomas looks at me hungrily. My eyes roll back at the feel of Phillip inside me and in response to the desire in the eyes of the man who denies me his passion. I wrap a leather belt around the neck of the man beneath me, tightening it.
“Phillip Slater, it has been four weeks since your last confession.” I rock against him, tugging on the belt. Phillip’s face reddens, and he struggles to catch his breath. Each of my movements are slow, calculated, meant to please. He must feel all the pleasure before the pain.
“I firmly resolve, with the help of your grace, to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life…” He growls, lifting his hips.
“Are you willing to atone for your sins with your blood?” I rock faster against him, biting down on my lip to stop the surge of pleasure coursing through me.
Father Thomas watches us, his hand working his cock, growls leave his lips, and that spurs me on.
“Yes, yes. I am wiling.” Phillip’s voice is strained.
I raise the dagger from beside him and bring it down to his chest, letting the blade pierce the flesh there. I continue to rock my hips against him as I dig deeper into his flesh. Fresh droplets of blood push out of the wound and trickle down his chest. I feel an orgasm building, so I remove the dagger, still tugging on the leather belt. I press the blade down again, harder this time, struggling through skin and muscles. He must hurt for his sins. I climb off him before he has a chance to come and he howls in agony. This is his wish, to be released from what he’s done. For all the sinful, depraved acts of violence he’s inflicted against his students. Phillip Slater tries to struggle when he realizes the mistake he’s made. I tug at the belt one last time and close my eyes, listening to the sinner gasping, his eyes begging for me to stop, to release my hold on him. But I cannot. He came to cleanse his soul, and it has been done.
For the wages of sin is death, sayeth the Lord.
Father Thomas is glaring at me when I open my eyes. I wrap my arms around his neck and force my lips to his. I push my tongue into his mouth, and he finally gives in, pushing me onto the man whose lifeless eyes stare at us. Father Thomas spreads my legs and plunges a finger into me with such rage, I cry out. His palm rubs against my clit as a finger curls inside me.
“Oh, Father…forgive me,” I cry out an orgasm, writhing against the hard body of Phillip beneath me. I reach for Father Thomas's zipper, releasing the hard cock that had been straining against his pants.
“Celeste, no!” he growls, looking down at me in horror then pushing me away. Tears spring to my eyes, and I jump off the altar, gather my clothing, and walk briskly through the pews. Nothing I do gets through to him. Aren’t we sinning already? I swipe angrily at my tears. I’m startled at the sight of a man standing in the shadows. I can feel his gaze sweeping over my naked form. His eyes are everywhere all at once, making me feel even more exposed. I don’t bother to stop to find out who he is. Instead, I turn on my heel and disappear into the bowels of the convent.
When I reach my room, I shut the door and drop to my knees in a sorry mess of tears and heartache. The cold from the tiles seeps into my knees, yet I stay there. I hear the door open and shut behind me, his presence in the room sucking the very air from my lungs.