I push my fingers hard and move them over my clit fast. This isn't going to be slow and sensual. I need to come, now. All of a sudden, I hear banging on the door.
"Suri."
Fuck, it's Father Stone. Mass is not over, why the fuck is he here right now?
"Open the door. I know what you need and how you need it. I will take care of you."
He jiggles the doorhandle roughly, impatiently.
"I'm...almost… ahhhh"
"No, Suri! Hold it. Do not come until I see you."
"I can't!" I cry out. "I have to."
"Suri, I command you to stop and open this door, immediately, or so help me," he says, but it's too late.
His threatening tone should chill me to my bones. It should be like dousing me with ice-cold water, but it has the opposite effect. It throws me over the edge, and I come all over the toilet seat and the floor.
My hand doesn't stop. I need more, and in seconds another gush flows out of my pussy.
As I begin to come down from my high, I know how much trouble I am going to be in when I finally open that door. Part of me wants to bang my head against the wall and pray I lose consciousness, but the other part of me can't wait to open the door and receive my punishment.
I take a few deep breaths and flick the lock on the doorknob, disengaging it, and letting Father Stone know that I'm ready for him to open the door.
In seconds it flies open, and he locks the two of us inside the too-small space together.
He looks down at the evidence of my sin. I'm not talking about holy mistakes anymore. I'm talking about being a bad girl. Doing something that my Dom explicitly commanded me not to do.
After what feels like an hour of waiting for him to say something, to yell, to hit me, he looks at me calmly, but very seriously.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, Sir," I answer him with my head bowed toward the floor.
"You're going to clean up your mess and meet me in my office when you're finished. After that, you and I still have an appointment in the rectory, and we're going to keep it."
"Yes, Sir."
"Suri," he places his finger under my chin and lifts my face. "You need a lesson in patience, very badly."
I swallow but don't respond.
"As soon as we get to the rectory, your lesson will begin, understood?"
My eyes go wide as my pupils dilate and my nose flares with desire.
"Yes, Sir."
THE END… FOR NOW
STAY TUNED FOR MORE OF FATHER RYAN AND SISTER SURI!
About Murphy
Murphy Wallace is an International Bestselling Author with works in several different genres, but most of her work as been in Dark Romantic Suspense.
She currently resides in a small Eastern Florida town with her husband, who doubles as her best friend, and their two boys.
When she's not getting in touch with her inner child at Disney World, or enjoying everything that Florida has to offer with her family, she enjoys writing and watching true crime documentaries.
She has a cat named Maisy who is her constant writing partner.
Also by Murphy wallace
The Wildheart Duet
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Impudence
Emery LeeAnn
Humility
An outward expression of an appropriate inner, or self regard.
Blurb
Father O’Rourke expects me to humble myself before him just like he “humbles” himself all over me and the rectory on a daily basis.
Father Clarence, well he is an altogether different sort of redeemer.
Blasphemy is all this church knows but, without it, what would Mother Superior do?
My vow of silence is almost at an end, and to all who have stained these walls with ungodly acts I warn: Watch out.
Absolution comes at a price and when I’m done paying my penance, the ones who hurt me in the silence will find out the true meaning of humility.
Prologue
The smell of Murphy’s Oil Soap permeates my senses as my prayers came to an end. Opening my eyes, looking up at the altar from my kneeling position, it always seems like I should be on my knees in an inch of dust and dirt, with maggots and worms crawling over our blessed Lady.
But then I get slammed in the senses with artificial lemon scent to let me know, I am back in this house of worship that boasts godliness. You can wax every inch of this so called holy place, every minute of every day, but that won’t clean all the sins away.
Chapter 1
Sister Purity
Sister Mary Margaret, the Mother Superior of Our Lady of Heavenly Hope Convent looks at me with condemnation as she passes me in the darkened hallways.
I’m sure it’s because she can smell the scent of Father O’Rourke on me, like I have an option when he pushes me down in front of him. She nods me on with the thin line yielding the thin lips on her face, knowing there is no need to speak me. I’m nearing the end of my vow of silence. She will have to converse with me soon enough. I’m sure she is glad it is not right now.
They should all be glad. The whole lot of them. Between the Fathers who adore us on our knees, to the sinful ladies I live with that I call sisters.
I prefer to stay silent. Most of the others do not wish to go that route. I find I learn more when I am not speaking. People tend to forget I am here and will discuss everything around me.
Father Clarence, when approving my vow of silence, said it would do me well with being humble. He felt like humility was lost on me when I first entered the convent. Between the two, Father Clarence and Father O’Rourke, they had set up a rigorous work program for me that included my normal prayer times, two meal times alone, and paying penance for them to absolve my worldly sins. My penance would be harsh and cruel, but I needed to know how it felt to have my sins beaten out of me.
When this was first agreed, I had heard Mother Superior vehemently argue my training with them, but as par for the course, the men overruled her. I think she honestly, in her own way, tried to save me. But now, since I’ve been desecrated, though she has no proof, she only looks at me with disdain. I’m not sure if it’s because they passed her up, or because she actually is that pious.
In this place – it’s hard to tell.
5 Years Ago
“Marchfield, get your ass over here in line.”
I sat up groggy on my cot as the house mother yelled my name for morning count. Being in the foster system sucked. You had absolutely no say in what happened with your life. I always laughed at the movies they showed us in school that said as teenagers we could be our own individuals.
We were robots, unable to have our own thoughts or make our own choices. We did what they said, when they said it, and how they said it. They told us when to eat, sleep, piss, and breathe. I couldn’t wait until the day I turned eighteen so I could skip out of this place and be my own person.