Confession 44

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was 8 weeks ago."

"And what has been the nature of your sins, my child?"

"I have been having indecent and vulgar thoughts, that distract me from my work."

"What manner of thoughts?"

"They are of a sexual nature, Father."

"Thoughts of a sexual nature are a part of life, but you should not give yourself over to them, and let them impact on your duties."

"I do try to resist, Father, but they come back stronger, and with such violent and vivid imagery - I feel as though they are compelling me to act, and to debase myself."

"Would it help you to speak these thoughts? I am no stranger to thoughts of a base nature, and it may reassure you if I can confirm that your lusts are nothing out of the ordinary."

"That may help, yes, but I am certain that I will shock you."

"You may try. Begin"

"I imagine myself performing sexual acts with strangers."

"This is not so unusual a theme..."

"I take many of them, all at once, in all manner of ways."

"Please elaborate."

"I beg them to use me as they want, and use foul language, as it arouses me."

"For instance...?"

"I tell them I'm a filthy horny slut, and I'm desperate for their cum... I expose myself to a crowd in a public place - without knickers on I spread myself wide, and tell them, 'Look at my dripping wet cunt. Please fuck it sloppy'."

"I begin to understand..."

"Sometimes I imagine that I beg a crowd of men, kneeling and grovelling hungrily for their cocks, and pleading to be used. But other times, I picture being taken by force - fighting and screaming as they rip off my tights and fuck my cunt and arse up against a wall."

"And these thoughts trouble you?"

"It troubles me that they excite me so, and they seem uncontrollable: They won't leave until I touch myself and climax."

"Is this often?"

"Every day, Father. Sometimes several times."

"And have you acted on these thoughts?"

"They have driven me to indecent acts, yes...Today I came on the bus."

"And?"

"No, I mean I fingered myself on the bus, surrounded by strangers, until I came. I left a wet patch on the seat."

"I see.."

"I imagined the passengers would notice, although I was discreet. But I wanted them to know. I wanted them to smell my horny cunt. I pictured myself on all fours on the dirty bus floor with my wet knickers stuffed in my mouth, while they took it in turns to use my holes."

"Well, you certainly have an active imagination. But tell me, do you picture yourself causing anyone pain?"

"Physical pain? No, but there are many types of pain... I imagine sloppily sucking husbands in front of their wives and smiling as I spit their cum down myself. Or seducing a father in front of his daughters - letting them watch me cream nastily on their dad's big cock."

"But in terms of physical pain, I only imagine being the victim... The biting sting of a bamboo cane or a rough calloused hand gripping my throat and wrists - those thoughts make my cunt throb. I imagine tending to grip bruises and handprints and bathing my sore pussy and tender arsehole the day after being gang fucked in a prison."

"It is concerning that such violent scenes excite you."

"I know. I told you I would shock you, Father. But it gets me so wet, especially to say it out loud, and if am honest, to speak filth in your confessional is bringing me close to the edge. I've got two fingers in my sopping wet cunt right now - can you hear?" (A quiet paddling sound accompanies her uneven breathing)

"I can both hear and smell your behaviour, in fact."

"It's dripping onto the hard wooden bench"

"I believe you were mid flow..."

"Yes. Sometimes I picture you there too, chastising me harshly. "

"How?"

"At first you watch and judge, as I grunt, shudder and squirt. You look down in silence at my behaviour. Then you say 'This slut needs punishing' and make me open my mouth. You insert your rosary beads until no more will fit and wrap the remaining string of beads around my neck, holding onto one end like a leash."

"That's no way for a priest to behave..."

"You're right. Pretty soon you'll be mopping my cum off your bench too."

( The wet lapping sound increases)

"Anyway, you tug on those beads and chastise me with filth as I finger my cunt while a large man fucks me up the arse. You say:

'You nasty little girl. What appalling behaviour, to let them fuck you where you shit from. How you love that fat prick shoved up your dirty arsehole. Look at you squirting your cum in a puddle on the fucking ground you filthy bitch. Take the whole thing like you need it. You can't wait to taste it..' And you shout at the man too - 'Fuck her properly you lazy wanker. Pound it up that arse until she screams. If you pull that out clean there will be trouble, young man... Fuck it deeper, I want to see her belly moving...' Uungh.. Aaah fuck... There... "

"What is it?"

"Sorry Father... I came. It's a mess in here. I'm mopping it up with my knickers and I think I'll leave them here and go back without any."

She pushes her slippery fingers through the wooden grill beside her. In the dark silence she hears an intake of breath and then feels his mouth close around them, and his tongue gently caress them, cleaning the slick of cum from her fingertips.

"What is to be my penance?"

"You may not now touch the offending article for the entire time until your next confession. All manner of touching is forbidden, only contact via running water is permitted and only briefly. You will say a Hail Mary every time you think an unsavoury thought. You will then return to this bench and we will assess your progress ."

"Thank you for your counsel, Father."