📚 for-i-have-sinned Part 3 of 3
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ADULT BDSM

For I Have Sinned 3

For I Have Sinned 3

by yourwrongnumber
10 min read
4.54 (4700 views)
adultfiction
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"Bless me Father, for I have sinned."

The look on his face told me I took him by surprise. He had come back from saying hi to some friends to find me kneeling down a large, circular bed, my hands pressed together in prayer. At our local sex club on their monthly kink night, surrounded by friends, partners, and strangers in various stages of their evening, the bass of the music pulsing through the walls and the bodies of the space. And here I was, deep in prayer, on a bed made for an audience, with an eyebrow raised.

We had talked briefly about this kind of scene before, but had no plans to perform it tonight. My catholic upbringing, long since lapsed, had impacted me in ways that Father Duncan would most definitely not have approved of. It gave me a fixation on rite, on ritual, and on submitting to authority. But lately, it made me miss Confession. In the confessional, I could be honest about all of my deviant desires and wicked ways, and after a few Hail Marys and a promise to be better, I could walk out with a clean slate, light as a feather, and ready to get back to my depraved thoughts. I'm not sure that's exactly what the church had in mind, but I liked my version better. And while I'm long past my days of stepping foot in a Catholic church, I really missed that experience of confession and had talked with my partner about bringing that into our play at some point. And unbeknownst to either of us, that point was tonight.

So I knelt there, face forward, watching him out of the corner of my eye as he processed my proposal. We'd never planned this scene out specifically, but he's always been a great improviser, plus, we've been in a healthy, communicative partnership for a while now. I know him, and I trust he knows me, my wants, and my limits. I see the gears turning in his head, weighing our past conversations, our environment, our arsenal, as he formulates a plan. He closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and exhales slowly. He opened his eyes and shot me a wry smile that sent shivers up my spine: it's happening.

"Have you now?" he said, composed and intrigued. I closed my eyes to let his voice wash over me. "All things are forgivable through repentance, as you know." I felt him circling the bed as he spoke, surveying his domain, reading my body. I feel him sit down on the bed in front of me. "What sin is it you wish to confess?"

I open my eyes, staring straight into him, and I say with a smirk, "Lust."

He held his composure, staring me down, letting the word hang in the air. Finally, he said, "Lust comes in many forms. Lust for power, lust for wealth, lust for fame, lust for knowledge. What is your sinful lust?"

"A lust for pleasure" I said, my words making it manifest in my veins. "I yearn constantly to be touched, stroked, grabbed, held, pinned down and fucked. I fantasize about pleasuring strangers, licking and sucking every inch of them until they explode in ecstasy. I fantasize about them pleasuring me, their hands, their tongues, all of them, using every inch of me as they wish, until I'm a ball of sensations popping all over my body."

His fiery eyes betrayed his calm demeanor, I felt him getting hungry as I went on. He took a moment to steel himself, and said casually, "Thoughts are sinful, we all experience temptation at one time or another. The key is to not give into those temptations. Are you giving into those temptations?"

"I am", I said, failing to play into the shame I'm supposed to feel in this scene.

"Oh my, that is troubling," he said. He beckoned me, "please, continue, tell me of your sinful indulgences."

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I spotted a couple across the room rapt in their own passions, seemingly trying to merge their bodies into one. They were unaware of the room around them, unaware of their audience, unaware of me, only seeing and feeling each other, their passion and pleasure flowing between their bodies. I thought back to a night last week where I shared in that pleasure with them, where I felt that passion directed at me, where I reflected it back at them both. This would be my confession.

"Last week, I joined another couple in their bedroom. I wanted them both, and I let them both use me. I loved being pinned between them, feeling them both penetrate me, filling me. I loved running my hands all over every inch of their bodies. We engaged in endless sodomy, sucking and licking each other to ecstasy. My body was theirs for the taking, and I delighted in every sinful moment of it."

He looked over his shoulder to see what I stared at so hungrily. He turned back to me, saying "Do you want to sin with them again?"

"I do."

"Do you want to sin with them right now?"

"I do."

"And what is stopping you, what is keeping you here for your penance?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Just you."

He smiled, seeing the door I opened for him. He stood up and walked around the bed as I knelt, transfixed on the couple across the room. I heard him digging into the toy bag we brought tonight, then climbing onto the bed behind me. He spoke gently over my shoulder, "If you cannot be trusted to complete your penance, then it's my responsibility to help." He positioned himself in front of me and looked deep into my eyes. "Give me your leg", he commanded.

As I leaned back off my knees to prop my right leg up, I saw him begin to loose a length of rope. He firmly grabbed me by the ankle, pulling himself closer. Without breaking eye contact, he coiled the rope above my ankle, slid the bight under the coil, and tied it off in one smooth motion. He moved even closer as he pulled my heel to my thigh and began tightly wrapping the rope around my leg. I felt it dig into my thigh, my options becoming limited as each coil binds me tighter. As he hitched off the rope, he calmly ordered, "the other." He repeated the process until both my legs were firmly immobilized beneath me, where he gently guided me back to my kneeling position.

"Bring your hands together," he ordered, and I pressed my palms together. He grabbed another rope and began wrapping it around my hands, holding them in this position. After he tied off the first knot, he coiled it down my forearms, forcing my elbows together. After my forearms were completely covered in the coil, he hitched the rope off and backed off, admiring me helplessly trapped in prayer. He then gently lifted up one of my legs to slide a soft pillow below my crotch, followed by a dormant vibrator pinned between myself and the pillow. I gently rocked my hips back and forth, trying to draw as much physical pleasure as I could from this new opportunity, but I was left hopelessly wanting.

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"And now for your penance," he stated, "we'll start by reciting the Hail Mary." I shot him a wary look, but he was unfazed, silently insistent. I returned to words I've not spoken since childhood, whose meanings had been long disregarded in favor of rote memorization. I recited it phonetically, as I did a lifetime ago, and imagined what this moment must look like from the outside as I'm bound and in prayer, draped in the dim light of this sex club. "Now and at the hour of our death. Amen." I conclude, as I open my eyes.

"Good," he tells me. "Again."

As I began my second intonation, I felt the vibrator gently whir to life beneath my crotch. The surprise elicited a sharp inhale from me, breaking my incantation. He quickly placed his hand on my shoulder and said "Stop." I obeyed. "Again." I obeyed.

I tried to ignore the pleasure building up beneath me as I focused on the prayer, trying to maintain an even enunciation to please him. After making it through my second attempt, he asked for another. The vibration began growing stronger, and my focus drifted until I let out a low moan. My moment of pleasure was interrupted by his hand under my chin, his voice again commanding me to stop. I suppressed the rest of my moan, which did nothing to release the pressure growing inside me. I grinded my hips on the vibrator, feeling it slide over the moist, sensitive regions as I positioned it properly. I tried in vain to calm myself and begin another Hail Mary through gritted teeth.

With each successful attempt, the vibration grew stronger, and my concentration grew weaker. With each failed attempt, his voice became sharper, his commands cut deeper. I felt my legs tremble against the ropes, and I collapsed forward onto my praying hands, continuing my prayer into the mattress, unabated. I began praying louder, as the Hail Mary became my expression of ecstasy. I felt his hand slide to my chest and push me upright again, and his fingers crawl through the roots of my hair. He calmly watched for any falter in my speech as I just tried not to explode.

In an instant, my orgasm overwhelmed me and I began shouting in pleasure. My arms and legs trembled against my restraints, and hips bucked onto the vibrator, trying to grind out every ounce of pleasure it has to offer. But the moment I faltered from my prayer, I felt his fingers tighten on the roots of my hair, tugging me back to my duty. I did my best to regain composure, but it's no use. My whole body trembled as waves crested over inside me. I arched my back, pushing my head into his hand, and exploded in pleasure.

As my orgasm began to wane, I felt the vibration continuing to grow. More and more pressure built faster than I could release it no matter how hard I moaned or how violently I shook. I opened my eyes and looked pleadingly at him, only to see him unfazed and expectant. I panted, unable to catch my breath, barely able to speak. I used all the concentration I had to tremble out a single, breathy word: "Red."

In that moment, the vibration stopped, and my body began to release all of the pent-up pleasure. His grip on my hair loosened into a cradle for my head as I fell back in exhaustion. I opened my eyes to see him still intensely focused on me, but with much softer eyes now.

"It's okay, I've got you," he cooed. "Does anything hurt?" he asked, grabbing his safety shears.

"No, no, no, I'm fine," I panted, finally feeling my brain re-congeal. "Everything's fine, I just couldn't..."

He pulled my head into his chest, my ear pressed against his beating heart. I heard his slow, steady breathing, and the calm passed onto me. With his free hand, he loosened the hitch by my elbows and began slowly uncoiling the rope from my arms. The coarse fibers rubbed against the tingling of my skin and they dropped to the bed. Once my wrists were free, I slid my hands out and immediately wrapped my arms around him, holding him with all my might.

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