Copyright 2021. All characters and religious institutions are fictional. All characters are over 18. Any resemblance to persons living or dead are coincidental.
After good but not stellar grades in high school, and two years of excellent grades in the community college back home, Eugenie had finally made it to The School of Design. Daddy had wanted her to stay in state, and look at Kent State or Cincinnati. The University of Southern California was out of the question, but when she got accepted to the oldest school of design, one of the most prestigious in the United States, Daddy couldn't tell her no, even though mom had groused about the distance and the cost.
Eugenie fell in love with Providence, Rhode Island immediately. The smell of salt air and the sound of seagulls was a world apart from the smell of fertilizer and the sound of crows back home. But she was still adjusting to the big, East coast town. She missed being the daughter of one of the most important and successful men in the country, and being able to get away with anything. Back home, she was well known for being a good, church going girl, daughter of a county judge and lay reader in their church. She was also known for giving amazing blowjobs, but no one who had the pleasure would ever talk about it after one guy did and was suspended from school for "spreading lies" about a good, church going girl whose family was so influential.
Eugenie loved the power giving head gave her over men. She relished being able to do things other girls could never get away with. The act itself was okay, no big deal. Having a man's penis in her mouth didn't do much for her. Hearing a guy's moans, and his begging for her to keep going, her ability to control what he got out of it was a lot sexier to her. When she was done, the salty, musky taste in her mouth kept that sense of power fresh in her mind when she went home and brought herself off.
Her real thrill was going to confession after sucking a young man's cock and describing for her confessor exactly what she did and how it made her feel. Her penances were getting harsher, but half the time she forgot them the moment she left confessional as she rushed home to stroke her pearl until she squeaked and trembled in climax. Every time her confessor blushed, she got that fluttery feeling behind her mons. Before she left for Providence, it had gotten to the point where he couldn't look her in the eye despite her warmly greeting him every Sunday before her father read the Gospel during the service. And his embarrassment made her wet.
Providence was a beautiful old town, but a little spooky. H.P. Lovecraft spent most of his life here, and his horror stories had been Eugenie's favorites growing up. Walking on streets Lovecraft had mentioned in his stories gave her a thrill, and inspired her to fantasize about Cthulhu and other nightmare creatures ravishing her. She would rub her clit to visions of ghouls taking her from behind, and work her fingers into her pussy imagining they were the tentacles of nameless horrors from strange dimensions. But she missed tormenting her confessor, and the powerful releases she would give herself after her detailed confessions.
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Father Alphonse, who always asked to be called "Father Al", loved his parishioners and his church. The Church of The Morning Star had stood in Providence since the late eighteenth century. It was one of the smallest churches in Providence with a modest steeple, topped with a stubby cross that was more like a plus sign than a traditional Christian cross. Father Al always declared that his congregation upheld their tradition of being the most passionate and happiest church goers in the town. When outsiders visited the church, Father Al would always go out of his way to accommodate their spiritual and temporal needs as best he could. When asked why he does so much for non-believers, he would smile knowingly and say "Our Lord bids us to emulate him, and be light bringers in the world."
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It was a dark and stormy New England autumn evening. Eugenie had debauched herself using her talent for fellatio several times through the week. While she had earned the slavish devotion of a number of grateful first year guys from the Ivy League school near The School of Design, she was aching for the release that came after her lascivious confessions. She was walking through the older part of Providence, a side street on Federal Hill, and noticed an ancient but well maintained little church that hadn't caught her eye before. On the sign out front, it declared itself to be "The Church of the Morning Star" and the name was flanked by a sort of cross she hadn't seen before; a "heavy cross" like a simple plus sign on top of an equilateral triangle. The cross was as tall as it was wide, and the triangle under it was about the same height.
A light was on in what looked like an office off the chapel, so Eugenie went in, in hopes of finding a new confessor. The nave and apse were dimly lit, but shone with polished copper instead of the gold or brass she was used to. The walls were a deep scarlet, and there was something not quite right about the designs in the stained glass windows. As she was taking it all in, a figure appeared at the door of the office with a light on. A tall slim man, with a halo from the light behind him, said "Good evening, young lady! Welcome to the Church of the Fallen- The Morning Star! We aren't holding services tonight-"
Eugenie cut him off. In her most contrite and humble voice she said "Father, please, I wish to confess my sins."
"Well, we don't usually practice confession, but-"
"Father," she pleaded, "I would feel so much better if you took my confession. It would do so much to lighten my burden of guilt."
At the word "lighten", he became attentive. "Well, my dear, I am Father Alphonse, but please, call me Father Al. And bringing light into the world is our purpose. If taking your confession will help-"
"Oh, it will, Father Al, it will."
