Unfortunately, that will never happen.
I won't run because Tim would find me, there's no doubt about that. I'm shocked he hasn't yet. The terror I had to relive while I in the courtroom for days on end was all for nothing. Tim ended up getting off on a fucking technicality because the idiot judge failed to tell the jury about a lesser charge that they could rule on. Therefore, the court had no choice but to overturn the conviction. The criminal justice system in this country is unreal. I can't fathom how some of these criminals get away with the terrible pain and horror that they inflict on other people.
So, that led me here. Other than Detective Robbins and Mother Superior, no one knows why I'm here. Mother didn't want to let me in, but Robbins has been a faithful member of Our Lady since he was a little boy, and he promised her it would only be for a brief period. She finally agreed and told him that I would be safe. That was six months ago, and I don't know who is more anxious about my departure, me or her. She never told him that she would act like a complete and utter cunt bag. I'm pretty sure that has to be in one of the Ten Commandments somewhere. She's had it out for me since the moment I set foot in the door.
I grew up Catholic, but I haven't been a religious person for a very long time. As if that wasn't enough, I am putting everyone in danger by being here. She doesn't understand how much that affects me. It's bad enough knowing that I'm not safe no matter where I go, but the fact that others can and will be affected should he find me, that's not something that I want on my conscience.
Suri
It's been three days since Agnes told me she was going to Father Stone about my language. I don't think she's said anything, though, because I haven't gotten called into his office yet. I don't know what has been happening in the past few days. Maybe it was the fear of getting into trouble that's been messing with me, but I've been hornier than I can ever remember being. At least since before things went south with Tim.
I can't stop thinking about Father Stone. As soon as the idea of getting into trouble crossed my mind, I started having flashes of him and me together. Me, bent over the altar, him behind me on his knees, his tongue inside of me, his hands are kneading my thighs and ass.
I am broken from my cloud of lusty thoughts when the tiny bell on the door chimes, letting me know someone's entered the office. When I look up, I lock eyes with a woman who looks strikingly familiar, but I can't place from exactly where. She's gorgeous, dressed in designer clothing with full hair and makeup. She could have been me if it were four years ago. She definitely looks out of place here, though, that's for sure.
"Hello, how may I help you?" I ask her.
She stands there staring, taking in my form as if she's puzzled by my being here.
"Father Stone. Where can I find him?" she asks, looking down her nose at me.
"He's out to lunch, is there something I can help you with?"
"When is he due back?" she sneers at me with visible annoyance.
She could have been me if she weren't such a cunt.
"Hard to say," I respond, flashing her a bitchy grin. "Can I tell Father Stone that you stopped by?"
She didn't respond. She just turned and walked out of the church.
"Sister Suri," I hear Agnes ask.
I look up and offer her a smile.
"Can you please take this box over to the Rectory? I would, but you know I've got a bad hip."
"Sure, Ms. Agnes. I'd be happy to," I flash her my best shit-eating grin.
Bad hip? What a liar. Good Catholics aren't supposed to lie, Ms. Agnes. She's been making me do everything for her ever since she heard me taking the lord's name in vain the other day. Maybe she didn't tell Father Stone, and she is giving me my penance this way? Who knows, but I don't care—anything to get out from behind this damn desk.
"Thank you, dear. You don't have to knock, just go right in and leave it on the table in the entryway.
"Great, thank you," I offer her another slight smile and grab the package from her desk.
When I reach the front door of the Rectory, I contemplate knocking. It doesn't feel right, just barging into someone's home like this, permission or not. But one of the Father's might be in meditation. I don't want to disturb them, so I open the door cautiously and walk inside.
Soundlessly, I walk across the parquet floors and place the box on the table next to the stairs. When I reach the staircase, I can hear a rhythmic noise coming from the second floor, followed by a slight moan.
My eyes shoot open with shock.
No. It can't be, but it certainly sounds an awful lot like a guy jerking off up there. That's ludicrous, though. Priests live here.
Father Stone lives here.
My thoughts intrigue me, and as hard as I try to keep them from getting me into trouble, I fail. Before I know it, I am climbing the steps slowly, careful not to make a sound. I hear another, slightly deeper moan as I begin to ascend the staircase. I walk to the second floor and twist my body around the corner toward the source of the captivating sound.
Gazing into the only room on this end of the hallway, I see him.
Father Stone.
He is sitting on the edge of his bed with his back to the door. He is shirtless, and I get to see part of his magnificent body for the first time. Sexy wouldn't be the word that I would use; it's not strong enough. It doesn't fully encapsulate exactly how exquisite he is.
I can't see his dick from here, not even in the reflection of the mirror he's sitting in front of him. But there's no question about what he's doing. I can, however, see his muscular back and chest, and that's good enough.
The longer I stand here, the more the moisture builds between my legs. I need to get out of here, either before I get caught or before I get undressed and join him! No matter how hard I try, I can't make my body move. I imagine him seeing me in the mirror and getting angry at me for my blatant voyeurism.
He commands me to strip out of my clothing and crawl to him on all fours. I stop when I get to his feet and assume the perfect submissive position. He tells me that won't stop the punishment that he has in store, but he'll consider letting me come at the end of it now.
STOP it, Suri.
I clear my head. Fuck. I need to get out of here. Just as I begin to turn back and leave, I notice something I didn't see before. As I look closer, I can see lines running across his back, all in different directions.
They look like whip marks.
Holy hell, what happened to you, Father?
FATHER STONE
My aching need for a session with the Monsignor roars like an inferno inside of me. I refuse to go to him, though. I can feel myself cracking, but I refuse to break. I've been doing so well controlling myself for a long time; until she came along.
I can't think about her. Especially not now.
Don't kid yourself; she's the reason you're up here palming your dick right now. If this isn't you breaking, I don't know what is.
I sincerely hate you sometimes.
I hold my breath as my balls clench, preparing to expel the evidence of my sin all over the hand towel that I'm using. Just as I am about to come, I picture her.
Sister Suri.