Father Stone steps forward and places each hand next to my head, effectively boxing me in against the refrigerator. He looks me up and down with a feral stare. The scent of bergamot and cedar floods my nose, sending chills up my spine and moisture to my pussy. I can practically feel my eyes dilate with both fear and pleasure.
Taking me by surprise, my submissive nature has me dip my head, so I am no longer looking him in the eye.
Is Father Stone a Dom?
Is that why fantasies of him are plaguing me every day? Because the submissive in me recognizes the Dominant in him? Can he see it, too? I carefully sneak a glance. His expression is firm and gives nothing away, so I look back down at the floor. Then, he dips his head, so his mouth is right next to my ear.
"Hmm." I hear him say, but I don't respond.
"We need to talk. Immediately following morning mass. Understood?"
He places a finger beneath my chin, his touch sets my desire aflame. He brings my gaze to his, so his eyes can bore into mine. I temporarily forget how to speak, so I nod.
"Say it," he commands
"Sss--say what?" I breathe, barely able to make the words form.
"Say," he pauses. I didn't think his stare could become any more brutal than it already was, but I was mistaken. "Yes, Sir."
My eyes go wide as he confirms my earlier question.
"Ex--excuse me?" I didn't mean to talk back to him, but I couldn't contain my shock.
"Did I stutter, Suri?" he challenges.
I swallow nervously.
"No, Sir," I answer, and he can barely mask the look of pleasure that shoots across his face.
"Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir," I say reluctantly.
"The rectory," he gives this last command and quickly turns around, exiting the kitchen.
Holy hell! What just happened?
Once the paralysis that he caused wore away, I quickly felt the tingles down below that were there the other night when I got back to the Monastery. I briefly consider locking myself in the bathroom and handling it instead of attending morning mass, but I just got myself out of trouble with Mother Superior. I don't want to take any steps backward.
I take a deep breath and assure myself that the feeling will go away, knowing that it's a lie. Just as I am about to say screw it, Agnes comes into the kitchen.
"Let's go, Sister Suri. Father Stone has asked that we deliver the gifts during this morning's ceremony."
Of course, he did.
I've been trying my best to keep my head down and pretending to say my rosary during mass, but I can't help but steal glimpses of Father Stone. When I can tear my eyes from him, I catch myself staring at the altar. The image of him knelt down behind me that has been tormenting me for the past two weeks floods my imagination more than it has before.
The smell of him is cemented in my nose, and his voice dances through my head, taunting me. What awaits me at the end of this morning's mass? Why does he need me to meet him in the rectory? I have half a mind to walk back to the monastery when mass is over.
But then I would miss out on the possibility that he, that he what? That he wants me?
Don't be foolish, Suri.
I need to know if he is a Dom or if he's just exerting his authority over me because he's a priest, and I am a nun.
The second Lector steps up to the podium and starts his reading. It talks about living your life for Christ, serving God, and keeping free of sin.
How generic.
I return my gaze to the rosary in my hand, and I pretend to know how to use it. I finger the different sized beads, and my depraved and unholy mind can't help but think of anal beads.
I need to snap out of it. My clit is still throbbing a little bit from Father Stone's ambush earlier, and this isn't helping me keep my mind off of him. I lift my head, and my eyes lock on his form. He sits in his chair to the right of the altar as if he's sitting on a throne.
I want to be up there, on my knees next to his leg.
As if he senses me thinking about him, he turns his attention to me. As our eyes lock, my cheeks grow hot with embarrassment, and I can see the corner of his mouth twitch. He knows I'm thinking about him. He can read me like a book, and it terrifies me.
Suddenly, he stands, and the congregation follows suit. I know I have to stand, but it doesn't feel right, with his eyes locked on me as they are. It would be defiant of me. But he continues to stare, almost like he is daring me to stay in the modified submissive position. He wants to see how affected I am by it in front of a crowd of people. I know that I've disappointed him when I stand, and his lips thin into a straight line. He tears his gaze from me and looks out over his actual parishioners.
"You may be seated," he says at the end of the final reading, and everyone complies.
His deep, alluring voice teases me as he begins to deliver his homily. I want to hear it close to me again like it was this morning. He works off of what the Lectors read and ties the readings to the real world that we live in today. I close my eyes and try and tune him out as much as possible, but fail miserably.
I notice his voice starts to boom through the mic, bringing my attention back to him, but I keep my head bowed. Has he noticed my fidgeting? I can't chance a glance at him, but I want to find out why his voice has gone from smooth and sensual to angry and irritated.
Finally, I look.
"From the book of Timothy," he starts.
Really, of all the fucking books, he picks Timothy?
"If someone aspires to the office of overseer, he desires a good work. The overseer then must be above reproach, the man of one woman, temperate, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, an able teacher..."
The more he speaks, the more turned on I become. This isn't part of his homily, this is a promise to me. I know, at this moment, that he knows about my past, but how?
Mother Fucking Superior.
"...not a drunkard, not violent, but gentle, not contentious, free from the love of money. He must manage his own household well and keep his children in control without losing his dignity..."
He picked this verse because it's perfectly fitting, down to the Apostle's name! I tear my gaze away from him just long enough to notice that the parishioners are confused by the quick turn his homily has taken. Then, I focus my sight back on Father Stone.
"...but if someone does not know how to manage his own household, how will he care for the church of God? He must not be a recent convert, or he may become arrogant and fall into the punishment that the devil will exact…"
He wants my submissiveness. He wants me. This is so wrong, how can he, a man of God also be a Dominant and take part in a sexual relationship?
"And he must be well thought of by those outside the faith, so that he may not fall into disgrace and be caught by the devil's trap."
I can't stay here. I left the lifestyle the second that I testified against Tim. Its too dangerous for me to go back and how am I ever supposed to trust anyone anymore.
I run out of the pew and down the hall leading to the kitchen and front office. I don't know what to do. I can't think straight. I need to clear my head. I run to the bathroom just outside of Father Stone's office and lock myself in. I lift my dress place one foot on the toilet seat. I lick my fingers, coating them in saliva.
I cry out as I touch my sensitive clit. This is the only thing that will help me clear my head right now. I am too far gone for meditation and prayer, not that either of those have helped since coming here.