This was a short story I wrote about ten years ago, maybe more. It's hard to put what I did here into words. There is a little bit of everything here: a little bondage, a little public play, a little knife play, a bit of bloodletting, a good deal of sacrilege, and a dose of horror. Warnings for scenes of gore/body horror, brief emetic mention, and dub-con/non-con elements as it goes on.
Aside from all that, I hope you enjoy it. And go easy on a girl, will ya? It's my first time. 😊
Author's Note:
The following story contains graphic violence and sexual content, as well as descriptions of disturbing imagery. You've been warned.
1
Wednesday Evening Service
The evening sermon is hard to focus on. Not because it's boring or droning. In which case, I'd be on the edge of lethargy by now.
Our church welcomed a new priest just days ago, and tonight is his first full address to the congregation. He's the youngest I've seen, probably close to my age. Dark hair, blue eyes clear as the morning, a beard that looked well-groomed and soft, a certain boyish charm, and -
sweet baby Jesus in a onesie
- a pairing of timbre and accent that made old women blush and little girls giggle when he spoke.
I don't need to tell you what it does to the other women. And perhaps even a few of the men, whether they would admit it or not.
They're probably thinking it right now. Hard not to when the sermon is on the infamous Song of Songs, poetic expressions of love and sex that were exchanged between Solomon and his lover. Although many preferred to teach that it was all just flowery allegory for God speaking to his beloved church. Father Finn was basically explaining that both views were right, and there was nothing wrong with how we chose to interpret it, for both were true in His eyes.
But I couldn't focus entirely on the message. Because the way those verses poured from his mouth filled my ears with all manner of sin.
"My beloved spoke and said to me, '
Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, come with me
.' See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone..."
As he read the passage, his voice flowed like dark chocolate over ripe cherries - bold but not overwhelming in its sweetness, with a hint of bitters and incense smoke.
"Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me."
If he kept saying it that way, I just might.
No! No no no...
No, I shouldn't think that about
a priest
! Least of all, Father Finn.
Especially
not Father Finn.
I shouldn't think about gripping those broad shoulders, or those large hands gripping my waist as he takes me against the altar and whispers litanies of dirty thoughts in my ear and...
Shit. He's looking right at me. Wait...he's looking at
me
?!
"...'
show me your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.'
"
I'd never blushed so hard in my life.
Yup. One-way ticket to Hell in a gasoline Snuggie for me, thanks.
_ _ _
Last in the short line to the confessional booth, and the majority had left long ago.
I sat on the wooden bench in the dark room, waiting for Father Murphy to appear. He never failed to show up for confession, and was quite kind and comforting.
"Welcome, my child."
Oh.
Oh
. Oh no.
That
voice
.
"Uh...Um... Father Finn! I, uh, I..."
A rich chuckle came from the other side of the screen. "Sounds like you're a bit tongue-tied tonight. Are you alright?"
"Um, ah...yes, Father! Just, uh... I thought Father Murphy conducted confession after the evening mass."
"Oh, of course! He had a family event to get to, so he asked me to take over for him. If you're more comfortable with him, I understand-"
"No, no! Well... yes, but... it's fine, Father. I can confess to you."
"Take all the time you need, my child."
I took a shaky breath to steady myself. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been eight days since my last confession."
His voice was decadent, generous in its patience. "How have you sinned?"
Shit.
How do I say this without letting on the role he played in my sin? "I...I had lustful thoughts about a man during mass tonight. They came suddenly, and I tried to block them out, but they were... distracting."
"Mm-hmm. And these thoughts...were they of a graphic, possibly disrespectful nature?"
"Y-yes, Father. And the man, well...He isn't married, that I do know but...he's someone I've never really spoken to, in fact. Not at length. So I don't know him well. And I know I have no chance, but...but the thoughts I have are still there."
None of that made sense. I was babbling, I knew. I couldn't stop myself.
He just chuckled warmly. "Having those kinds of thoughts are not a sin in themselves unless they are expressed outward and violate an existing bond - say, that of marriage. Yes, God calls upon us to be holy and pure in both thought and in deed, but in tonight's message, I stressed that those feelings are part of our humanity. We will struggle often, but only because we have yet to meet one who echoes those feelings. Your thoughts harm no one as long as you keep them under control. At least until you know how they feel."
I hadn't thought about it that way before. This church really was becoming more progressive.
He had me recite two Hail Marys. I was contrite (as much as I could be, anyway) and he prayed absolution over me.
"The Lord has forgiven you. Go in peace."
"Thanks be to God." I added quietly as we stepped out of the booth, "Thank you for listening, Father Finn."
"My pleasure." With a soft smile, he wrapped me in a firm embrace. His scent was soothing, his beard actually was soft and, sweet baby Jesus, this really wasn't helping my resolve but his strong arms around me felt wonderful. As I drew back and turned to take my leave, I heard him call my name.
When I looked back, he said, "Hope I'll be seeing you here on Sunday morning." A glint in his eye and a knowing smile on his lips, he turned toward the altar.
I couldn't take my eyes off him. I couldn't breathe.
Oh God...did he know?
What did he mean about Sunday morning?
And how did he know my name?
2
A Brief Interlude to Sunday Morning
Sliding idly up my leg, I could feel the heat of calloused fingertips. The kisses that traveled along the same path sent tiny ripples with each landing.
Incense. Mingling with the metal of the thurible and the salt, musk, and holy oil on his skin, filling my nose with the sacred and choking me on the forbidden.
But his mouth to mine breathed life and fire. The tongue that pressed past my lips carried blessings and curses, bitter and sweet.
The hematite beads he'd placed upon my neck dug into the skin as he tightened his grip. The cross that dangled from his fist glinted in the beams of moonlight, black as the night sky.
Black as his eyes.
He drove deep within me, growling as the rosary's grip held firm in dizzying ecstasy. In my ear he whispered the prayers of the profane. Even after this last (Third? Fourth?) orgasm, he was relentless. I silently damned his control as my body sang hymns of his glorious onslaught.
Close again. So close. I can't...
But I would. He would see to it that I did.
The next kiss he gave me filled my mouth with hot blood, driving me to the edge...
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BE-
My hand slammed on the snooze button so harshly, I was sure I'd broken it this time. Not that it would have been the worst thing in the world.
I licked my lips. No blood. No trace of his kiss.
So why did my skin still feel so heated?
Shit. Three nights of this, and it's only gotten worse. And it's Sunday morning.
How am I going to face Father Finn like this?
3
Communion
Stifling the rushed panting of someone who rested their eyes for a moment only to find they had overdone it, I slipped through the door during Father Finn's message and slid quietly into the nearest open seat at the end of a pew. I nodded in greeting to Father Murphy as he brought a large tray of grape juice to the altar.
Right. First Sunday. Communion.
Father Finn's charismatic delivery had not waned. His eyes were still that striking glacial blue and he surveyed the congregation with an odd balance of kindness and command.
"The Lord is calling upon us to be vigilant, be clever, be wise. But to also be kind, be compassionate, be blameless. Remember His words as you leave this cathedral today: Behold, I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore be as shrewd as snakes..."
My breath caught in my throat, and I froze in place. For somehow, even in the very last pew, his eyes locked onto mine.
A smirk played upon his lips before he finished the verse: "...and as innocent as doves."
Was...was that a
wink
?
My skin felt hot and uncomfortable.
Kyrie eleison
, indeed.
*
Father Murphy intoned, "Behold the Lamb of God, behold him who takes away the sins of the world. Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb."
The church replied, "Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed."
