There’s no way now that I’ve felt her on my fingers and tasted her in my mouth that I can undo what I’ve done.
I’ve hated every moment since she disappeared into the building as I walked off in a blind rage, talking to the foreman about them digging through the main electrical line to the school. Half the classrooms will be dark for another week until they fucking fix it.
Why do I want this place again?
Since Kitty arrived, I’m not sure.
I can’t do this to her. What am I? Who am i? Certainly not a man that she deserves.
When I look at her I see all the hope and possibility that I’ve defined. This is my life now. It’s my commitment not only to the church, not only to God, it’s what keeps me sane.
She felt like truth. And tasted the same. But even if she wasn’t my new stepsister I would know there are some lines you just don’t cross. There are lines that even the worst of humanity knows not to cross.
The fucking construction workers are still banging and sawing and swearing and laughing outside the door to my quarters and no amount of their noise will distract me enough to make the pain in my chest go away.
It’s almost dinner time on Friday and the scent of frying fish drifts up through the kitchen vents and into my bedroom.
It used to be one of my favorite days, one of the small pleasures I had left that I would allow. She’s ruined that. No one, no drink, no whiskey will ever taste better than what I had an hour ago in the boathouse sucking her sweet flavor from my fingers.
“Father Martin?”
“What?” I bark, keeping my voice hard because I’m in no mood for unimportant parish duties.
“I’m sorry to bother you, father, but…” Nathalia always says that, but deep down she thrives on delivering sordid details of the charges that come here. “I found something in Ms. Tennant’s room while cleaning.” Sure, cleaning a.k.a. snooping. “I’ve confiscated it as I know you would want me to. I would like to turn it over to you. I do not want it in my possession.”
I push off from the wall by the window, my collar tightening around my throat. I changed into my black suit after dealing with the foreman.
I needed to root myself back into my position but changing clothes did nothing to spur all the wrongness in my heart.
I stomp to the door, swinging it open. There is Nathalia like the cat that caught the mouse with the purple buzzing monster wrapped half in a white towel in her hand.
“I’m sorry. These girls….” She says with that tight lipped disappointed frown she wears. “It was plugged in. She was going to…use it. Or, she has already.” She stammers, whispering the last words as my cock thickens thinking of my little dove pleasuring herself here under my roof. “I should just throw it away, I can take it to the dumpster, but I thought you should confront her with it. Have a session about the sins of the flesh.”
I’m trying to fight off that kind of session, Nathalia, I want to say. If anyone is going to use this purple people pleaser, it’s going to be me. On her. Or…
“It’s okay.” I nod to the desk to her left. “Leave it there. I’ll deal with it.”
“She was returning to her room as I left. I am sure by now she’s realized it’s gone.” Nathalia bows her head but before I can close the door, she adds, “There’s something about this student. How she looks at you. You are softer with her, is there something about her I should know? If you need me to take over more, I am here. The other teachers will not be back until after the renovations, but I chose to stay. Here with you, to help.” Her faded blue eyes shine with the true, if not misguided, loyalty she has to me and this place.
“It’s fine. Nothing different with her. I will make sure she has appropriate consequences for the violation of the rules.”
With that, she shuffles down the hall and I think of the standard list of rules every young woman receives when they come here to Saint Margaret’s.
I stare at the phallic shaped silicone on the white towel.
It’s all of six inches and probably an inch in circumference.
Barely a warmup compared to the blessings God bestowed on me and an idea born of the Devil’s own wickedness spins inside me. I tuck the vibrator into the back of my pants between my belt and the indent of my spine, leaving the towel behind.
There will be consequences for breaking the rules.
Instead of heading to her room where she should be, I take the small back staircase to the second floor on the opposite end of the building from Kitty’s room, where there is a small stone chapel where I spend time when I need quiet. I know I should talk myself down from what I want to do, so before I make a mistake I can’t take back, I gather my control and head to the prayer room.
The planked door squeaks on its hinges as I enter. The line of candles burning on the side table flickers light into the room with its stone floor and padded kneeling bench in front of the small altar.
There’s a thousand-year-old wooden cross brought here from a sister church in Europe that hangs on the wall, casting a long shadow onto the stone.
The only window in the room is a leaded glass octagon above the cross that lets in a dusty stream of daylight, enough to give the room a dim glow.
What am I doing?
I stare up at the cross, the pressure from the vibrator pressing into my spine as I push my fingertips into my forehead, then bring my palms together, bowing my head.
“Give me strength to make decisions worthy of your grace…” I start but the words stick in my throat as my cock thickens.
Never have I been at the mercy of a woman before. Not like this. No matter how wrong, desire erases any rational thought as I drop to my knees, staring up at the illuminated window and grab the vibrator, bringing it forward with one hand as I battle down the zipper on my pants, reaching in and tugging out my already hard cock.
Don’t. Do. This.
It’s too late.
I wrap my fingers around my throbbing cock. I’ll pray for forgiveness later, but right now I need relief and I need to mark her as mine even if it’s like this.
As wrong as it is, I bring the vibrator to my nose on a long inhale.
Her scent is seared into my memory from the boathouse and there is nothing here that tells me she’s baptized this plaything with her sweet juices. I could be wrong, things can be washed away but there’s a tick in my soul that tells me this device is new.
A parting gift from a friend.
I set the vibrator on the stone floor in front of where I’m kneeling as I run my hand up and down my dick, thinking of her wetness on my fingers. How with one touch, she became mine, wetting my palm with her desire. I move my hand in long, even strokes at first, trying to calm myself but I know it won’t work.
“Forgive me,” I mutter, her sweet face painted behind my lids, beckoning me with a crooked finger toward her spread legs. I imagine her hard nipples grazing my chest as I rut into her like a madman, her body crushed under mine as I take what I want, her soft lips kissing my neck as the scent of her pussy drifts in the air.
“Yes, Father, I want you, inside me. I want you to marry me, but, that’s not allowed. Will I be a secret forever?”
“No, my child.” My fantasy takes over. “The world will know you are mine soon.”
I beat off faster, looking at the vibrator in front of my swollen cock, the tip already dripping, ready to burst.
I stroke faster, harder, imagining her laying next to me at night, her soft naked body curled into mine as I stroke her hair, whispering how she will be with me forever, how I will give her everything she needs and make her sigh and laugh and make her my dirty little girl and destroy anyone that would try to harm her.
An exhale rips from my chest as my orgasm crests. I knew it wouldn’t take long, I’m on a hair trigger and now that’s she’s opened the floodgates, a stiff breeze could set me off.
The first hot spurt of cum has light and dark exchanging places in my vision. As the second spurt barrels up my shaft from my balls, I focus, making sure I hit the target.
White cream lands on the purple rubber, dripping down onto the stone below as I bathe the vibrator with my ejaculation.
I will have her. Wrong. Right. None of it makes sense when it comes to my stepsister and all the complications that I ignore as I spray the last of my orgasm home, my breathing ragged as the fantasy softens, but my dick doesn’t.
I palm the final drops of seed from the tip of my cock, stuffing it back into my pants with my other hand.
With shame and sweat dripping down the indent of my spine, I lift the cum-drenched vibrator from the floor, and spread myself over the entire length. I massage it in, I want it impossible to wash away.
What I’m doing is a sin of the kind I’ve never imagined before but, in my lunatic, obsessed brain, it all makes sense.
I grind the toe of my shoe into the remnants of my release on the stone, walking to the carved granite vessel filled with the blessed water as I move the drying vibrator into the inside pocket of my suit jacket.
I pull a handkerchief from my back pocket and soak the fabric, proceeding to wipe my hands clean, my head spinning.
What happens next, is either the answer to my prayers or, the devil delivering me unto evil.
