“You should at least knock.” I snap as Nathalia delivers the bucket of cleaning supplies to my bathroom.
“And you should at least be dressed. It’s eight o’clock.”
I don’t think she sleeps. She was scrubbing the floor outside the common room when I left last night at midnight after my last round of Zelda.
“I was up late.” I yawn, stretching my arms above my head as she gives a little side eye toward my new colorful bedding.
It’s not a lie. Martin kept his promise about the phone calls but said he would call again at 3 AM before he left for the airport. I barely slept, scared I would sleep through the alarm I set on the old school digital clock in my room.
He called again early this morning while he was waiting to board his flight.
“I miss you.” I whispered into the heavy black phone behind the closed door of the little office where I’ve taken every phone call since he left.
“Good girl. I’m taking care of things. I’ll tell you more when I can. You’re always on my mind little dove. So, have a good day. I’ll be home soon.”
The way he said that, ‘I’ll be home soon’ made my insides do ten kinds of cartwheels but what does it really mean?
The phone calls came on time, but our conversations were short. Simple. Soothing but not…I don’t know. There was no heat. More like a father than a lover.
He told me he had spoken to Hoover and my mother as well. Let them know I was doing fine and that I’d earn the privilege of a call soon. There was a pang of homesickness, more for my mom, but just also for the feeling of home which I haven’t had in a long time.
It also made me think of Baby and truth, I don’t care if I ever speak to Hoover again. Tears spring to my eyes at the thought of her soft purring, the way she used to knead my belly before she snuggled into my bed for the night.
Nathalia is sighing and huffing as she inspects my bathroom which I’m supposed to keep clean but, it’s not one of my strengths and keeping her disappointment masked is not one of hers.
“Such a mess.” She grouses and my heart is more achy as each minute passes.
The obstacles are looming stone walls and the doubts about what this really means feel like a backpack full of boulders strapped to my shoulders.
I thought about making a plan and just leaving. I could make a call to an Uber, but I don’t have any money. I could just start walking, but to where? Again, no money.
Besides, it’s pretty nice here. I’ve been puttering around in the chemistry lab, the dreams of being a doctor still twinkle in my dreams.
Then, there’s mom. And Hoover. That’s all still a mess and how to untie all the knots there is more than I want to take on right now.
But, Martin is still a priest and I’m his student. A moment of temptation does not a relationship make. Am I being romantically hysterical imagining either we could go on like we are, or that he would leave his calling?
Seems unlikely.
I know he’s back. I caught sight of the limo delivering him to the front doors of the rectory an hour ago before I hopped back in bed pretty much expecting a visit, but the only visit that happened was Nathalia and her cleaning bucket.
Desperate. I don’t want to seem desperate.
“…and when you speak to him he’s going to want to see that you—” Sister Nathalia glares at me. “Are you listening, Kitty?”
“Yes.”
“Then what did I just say?”
I shrug. “That my lessons with Father Martin will resume today.” I take a shot in the dark.
“And…?”
“And I’m to be on my best behavior.” I haven’t been listening and I don’t give a shit.
Knowing he’s back and didn’t come right to me makes me want to run. I want my phone. I want to call round all the shelters in Florida and ask them if they have my cat. And somehow find a way to get her back.
At least you kept your V card. You didn’t give him that…
Nathalia grunts like some farmyard animal. “That’s not what I said. Although you could afford to be better behaved around him. You know, he’s a good man, he does good things. The work he performs here is God’s work and he’s good at it. Young women like yourself,” she looks pointedly at me, “come here troubled, without direction, and he does his best to turn them around. I respect and admire Father Martin and you should too.”
It’s a good speech. I wonder what she’d say if I told her how I called him Daddy while he held a vibrator to my clit nearly in the prayer room, if she knew he almost fucked me in the boathouse then again as I held onto the altar as he told me to call him Daddy when he made me come.
“Where is he now?” I can’t help myself. I’m drowning.
“Taking confession from his parishioners, he never misses Monday morning confession. People count on him to be calm, constant in their lives. He’ll be there for the next hour at least. Have you been to confession before? Might serve you well.”
She raises one eyebrow, points to the bucket of cleaning supplies in the bathroom, then turns and leaves and I flop down on my pillow, spread eagle with a dramatic sigh.
Confession. Perhaps Father Martin should confess a few things himself.
I should stay away. I should. For all her faults, Sister Nathalia is right, Father Martin is a good man, and I am…well, me. Clearly not on the high road. Even here at Saint Margarets. I’m destroying a good man.
I should stay away.
I stare at the smooth plaster ceiling feeling Jesus’s eyes on me from the little framed print on the wall.
“Stop.” I tell him. “All sins are forgiven right? I mean, that’s the deal.” I say to the stoic Mona Lisa looking Jesus then huff and kick my heels into the mattress.
Rational thought has left the station I’m afraid. Love does crazy things to a person and before I can talk myself down, I’m in and out of the shower, mussing my wet hair, teeth brushed with a swipe of cherry lips balm on my lips.
I’m out of my room fast walking down the hall to the back stairway hoping to avoid a chance encounter with Nathalia who will certain side eye my barely there black mini skirt and a too tight Legend of Zelda t-shirt.
It’s an odd pairing, but I’m getting low on matching outfits and down to zero on clean panties but, I took that as a sign.
I know where the confessional box is, or whatever it’s called, and my skin tingles and the cool air of the hallway brushes on my heated bare lady bits as I move silently through the hallways that wind around to the chapel.
AS I approach, a stooped over women with curled and teased white hair and a lavender wool coat exits the box, making the sign of the cross and muttering something over her shoulder toward the open door of the confessional before meeting my eyes.
I’m not sure what I expect, but she smiles, and I smile back. I have no idea what to do.
Is he in there? On the other side? Do I wait to be called like in the doctor’s office?
Miss Tennant? The doctor will see you now…
I remember the little Latin inscription on the front door of the dormitory that I translated with an ancient Latin to English textbook I found in the library.
Per has iportas salus exspectat.
Through these doors, salvation awaits.
I head into the box and sit.
I’m not even Catholic. At least, I don’t think so. I’m not really sure if I have any religion, or any faith. But here I am. And I have no idea what I’m about to say.
“Bless you, my child.” Father Martin’s voice is unmistakable through the grating and my heart takes flight as wiggle my bare butt on the wooden seat.
Does he say that to all the parishioners? My child? He must be less than half their age.
“Um, hi,” I say.
A pause. That’s not the right thing to say, but I’m not sure what is.
“Kitty?”
“Hi,” I say again. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I’ll go.” The air is charged even with the wall between us. There’s a screen sort of deal with a filigree wooden carving that blocks his face.
“No, stay. You came here for a reason. God won’t turn you away and neither will I.”
“That’s the thing, I’m not sure I believe in God though. I shouldn’t be wasting your time.” I’m not sure if I’m talking about confession or something else.
“You could never waste my time.” His voice has that sexy dragging through gravel sound and I feel myself melting. My flesh is turning slick and my heart is beating between my thighs. And I really do want to stay. “Tell me whatever you want little dove. I’m sorry I had to leave. I had… a few things to do. Things I had to make right.”
“Because of me?”
“No. Not because of you.” He hesitates. “Because of me. Deals I made a long time ago. Things I’ve had to follow through on.” He sounds distant, like he’s not telling me everything. Like maybe, he’s having second thoughts and how could he not?
“Do you hate me?” I blurt out. It’s not really what I want to ask, but it’s the little girl in me, feeling that rejection and wanting it to go away no matter what. Wanting to test him.
Another pause, and my heart thunders. This is the moment, another pineapple on pizza moment but way, way bigger.
“No, Kitty, I could never hate you. What we did was—”
“It was good, Martin,” I blurt, using his first name, needing the playing field a bit more level right now. “I wanted you. Did you want me?”
“Yes, but I want to do this right.”
“So, are you saying what we did was wrong?” My chest collapses, is this it? He’s letting me down easy?
“Yes, but—no–” There’s a low grunt, a mumble, “Kitty, right and wrong…it’s not that simple.”
“We can’t be together, can we?” The impending sob tightens around my windpipe as I struggle for breath.
“It’s not as simple as that. I made vows, Kitty.” He groans, and I hear him whispering.
I lick my lips. He’s praying. For what though?
Forgiveness or a sign?
No risk. No reward.
“I’m sorry, Daddy, I’ve been a very bad girl,” I whisper, clawing at the barrier between us.
“Kitty—”
“Are you going to spank me again?”
I can almost hear him gulp in the silence.
And there’s no stopping me now. I put my fingers through the metal grating on the confessional box. I pull myself closer.
“I’m not wearing any panties, that has to be a sin.”
“Oh, God…” I hear his heavy breaths from the other side and fuck it. I’m a good girl but I know how to be bad.
I unlatch the door and skitter around to the other side barely giving a glance at the chapel to make sure it’s empty.
I twist the knob on the door where he’s at and swing it open, practically flinging myself inside and closing it behind me.
God, he smells so good. The tiny space is warm, hot even and even in the darkness, his eyes shine with that look that tells me he’s fighting his own demons.
“Kitty, I’m your steward. You’re headmaster. Teacher.” He says as I wiggle my way between his knees and the wall, standing in front of him. “Fuck, you’re fucking breaking me.” His voice cracks as his gaze feasts on me in the confined space.
“I can just stay here with you. Tell my parents I did so well, you offered me a job. A position. I know Hoover will be thrilled I’m not coming back.” There’s a clutch in my belly as I consider my mom might be just as happy to get on with her new life. And, with Baby gone, what is there to go back to?
My friends?
No. A few days away and sober, things get cleared up pretty fast. They aren’t my friends, they were just a place holder and one that has been replaced.
By Father Martin.
“That’s not possible.” He answers, his words pushing me away as his hands slide onto my hips, fingers splayed as his thumbs rub up and down over the fabric of my skirt. “This is no life for you.”
“But, it is. I mean, we have each other, this whole place, we have science together. We could make our own lab, you could teach me everything you know. WE could…” I wind my fingers into his hair as he lets out another groan. “Blow shit up.”
He tugs me my hips forward, my back arching. “You are blowing everything up.”
My cheeks heat as he tugs me forward, his knees pushing between mine as he holds me steady.
One hand leave my hip, traversing up my side, this thumb grazing the side of my breast as my nipples sends a zap of arousal down to my already slick entrance, my body preparing for what its been craving since that first day in the bck of the limo.
His thumb and forefinger find my chin, pinching, drawing my jaw lower as he drags my mouth to his, his tongue invading, pushing, spinning. His mouth is warm and welcoming as my muscles go slack and our mouths move together.
“Mine.” He hisses on a quick breath and I whimper at the possessiveness in that word. “You belong to Daddy. I’m going to seal it with another kiss baby. I want to kiss you here.”
His other hand drifts down from my hip, moving under the hem of my skirt hiting my exposed womanhood.
His fingers dip into the slick, warmth and I moan shamelessly.
Mine, mine, mine. I hear his voice in my head as I look into the ark eyes that are pinned on my face. Searching for something and I want to give him everything I am.
“Tell Daddy how good it feels when he plays with you.”
Oh God. My obsession with this dark fantasy takes me to places I didn’t know I could go. I want him in ways that arne’t just…this. Aren’t just sex. But they feed off each other needing each other to make the parts into a whole.
“Daddy.” I manage as his deft fingers dance and tease. “It feels so good.”
“Good girl. It should. I want you to feel good when I touch you. Pleases me.”
His lips are on mine again, harder this time, lips crushing on mine, the scrape of his short beard warming my chin and cheeks as he slips a single finger inside me making my body concave, the pressure already building.
“Uh, uh. Not yet. All that beautiful wetness you drenched my hand with yesterday is going in my mouth today.”
I’ve lost the capacity for speech as I stare gap mouthed as he brings his wet fingers to my lips. “I want this pussy dragging all over my face. You like my kisses don’t you little dove?”
I nod as he drags his fingers in and out between my lips.
“Good. Because I’m going to kiss you down here now. I want you to squirt all over my face. Baptize me with you.”
“God.” I say on a broken whimper as his hands work their way down and for a brief, lucid moment, I ponder the logistics of what he wants to do. “How—”
He presses his arousal coated fingers to my lips. “Do as I say, trust me, remember?”
I don’t so much as agree, but I let him move my body as he wishes, I’m teetering and unbalanced for a moment, then I’m lifted on a gasp, my feet on the bench straddling his hips as he eases my shoulders back against the wall, my center ending up at his mouth, which, by design is what he wanted.
“Seems the confessional was build for sin.” He growls as he flips up my skirt exposing my bare pussy. “Pretty little girl cunt. Coming in here without panties, you knew what would happen. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted to drive Daddy crazy, make him kiss you down here.”
I nod like a crazy person as the idea that this man will never cause me shame crashes in around me.
Wow. That vibrator needs to take some lessons from Father Martin’s tongue.
He’s too licks in and I’m already a quivering, squealing mess as his tongue dancing on my little nub making me wince and shake.
“My God, you are heaven.” He groans into my folds as his fingers dig into the still tender flesh of my ass, holding me against his invading mouth. “You’re breaking me little dove. Breaking me.”
A moment of panic fills my chest as the realization once again that a priest is the object of my sexual awakening and is quicky on the way to becoming my obsession.
He licks away those thoughts with the jiggling of his tongue on my clit making me shudder and slap my hands to the walls on either side of my head, holding on for dear life as my chin falls to my chest and my knees start to give way.
How sex was such a mystery to me only a few days ago is baffling. I want this feeling to never end, but I only want it with him. As he words the nub of flesh my mind goes blank, waves of pleasure soak me from eery direction as a fever grows in my center.
“So good. Like honey. I can’t wait to fuck the sweetness out of you my child.”
God, that mouth of his. It’s perfection and how he’s given to me every time and never once pushed himself on me. Never been greedy and I realize now how much I want him.
I want to see him, touch him, taste him the way he’s done with me.
The thoughts must transmit through my pussy because he pauses, looking up as I stare down at this gorgeous man between my legs. “Soon I’ll teach you how to please me baby. You want that don’t you?”
“Uh huh.” I mumble on a nod and a swallow. “I want to see you.”
He smiles, his face glistening with wetness. “I know you do, but all good things my child. All good things.”
He dives back in and I imagine his huge body rocking into me. How much will it hurt I wonder? But that thought is banished as my orgasm builds. His focus on my clit, then lapping at my folds, then clit, hands still on my ass grinding my sex to his face as he releases feral growling sounds, then, his tongue is inside me, fucking, in and out, in and out as my voice turns to that of a injured animal.
Any thoughts that there could be other parishoners waiting their turn doesn’t seem to matter to Father Martin. His priestly focus is between my legs and I praise the Lord for his devotion.
I’m a babbling, whining, twisting, primal beast as my climax takes root. Whizzing up from somewhere down low and wrapping around my center then flinging me out into space. I bang my hands on the wooden walls as I scream, the sounds muffled in the small space as his lips pinch my clit, drawing it out and then holding it there, his tongue sucking and looping around until I come undone.
“Daddy!” I purr and that words seems to give him a moment of pause as my climax crests and my thighs shake in delirious, wonderful torture.
He tilts his head back and forth, my long clit still the focus on his mouth as he sucks it in and out, flicking it until I’m rocking my hips onto his face, sobbing and letting go of the tension that’s burrowed itself deep inside me.
“Oh Fuck yes.” He mouths onto my clit as the gush of my peak flows from my body. I’m too delirious to care if it’s normal to have such a dousing reaction to the pleasure but he seems to be in hog heaven so what else matters?
The dry cleaning bill might matter, and I just hope he has a closet full of his robes and black suits because I’m taking them out like Zelda queen of the squirting orgasms.
“You were born for me.” Father Martin mumbles as he eases me down into his lap, th frong of his robe is soaked and I taste my arousal again as he presses our lips together, sweeping his tongue into my mouth as I shudder and shake and come down, eyes unfocused and I wonder if everyone’s orgasms are this…life changing.
Or, if it’s the element of taboo.
“I’ve never given in to any girl that’s come here before Kitty. You should know. You are special. So very special to me.”
“Daddy.” I whisper as he curls me into his chest. “Your mouth is pretty special too.”
His chest rumbles with a chuckle as his heart thuds against my temple.
