Forgive Me, father III

I came back.

Of course, I did.

How could I not?

I was still sore from yesterday. Still leaking his cum. Still marked by the way his hands bruised my thighs and his cock made me scream into the altar.

But I wanted more.

I needed it.

This time, I didn’t sneak in. I walked through the heavy church doors like I belonged there. My heels echoed across the marble floor. No panties. Just a loose sundress—soft enough to slide up with one tug.

He was already waiting by the altar.

Black shirt.

No collar.

Eyes dark with need.

“You came back,” he murmured.

I walked straight to him. “You told me to.”

He pulled me in by the waist and kissed me like he was claiming every part of me all over again. His tongue tangled with mine, his hands slipping down to cup my ass, lifting my dress.

I moaned into his mouth as I felt him harden against me.

But then—

The sound of a door creaking open behind us.

I froze.

He didn’t.

He kept kissing me, slower now, like nothing mattered.

Then a voice.

Deep. Calm.

Not him.

“Well, well. This is what you’ve been hiding in here, Brother Elijah?”

My eyes snapped toward the entrance.

Another man.

Another priest.

Taller, older, rougher. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, revealing inked scripture crawling up his skin. His dark eyes burned holes through my body.

I panicked. Tried to pull away.

But Elijah gripped me tighter.

“She’s here to confess,” he said, voice thick. “I was about to help her… repent.”

The other man stepped closer. “Is that so?”

I swallowed. “I—I should go—”

“No,” Elijah said. “Stay.”

His voice was final.

The second priest approached, eyes dragging down the front of my dress to where Elijah’s hands still held me up.

“She’s beautiful,” he said.

Elijah smirked. “She’s worse than that.”

Then, to me: “You want to prove how filthy you are?”

My heart slammed against my ribs. “What… what do you mean?”

The second priest stepped behind me, his breath brushing my neck. “I mean… let both of us hear your confession.”

Two pairs of hands were on me now.

Elijah in front.

The second priest—Father Gabriel—behind.

They didn’t wait for permission.

Gabriel lifted my dress from behind, revealing my bare ass.

Elijah slid his hands down my front, pushing the fabric aside to bare my tits.

I was sandwiched between two men of God, exposed in every direction, gasping as their hands roamed freely.

“You’re dripping already,” Gabriel muttered, fingers teasing my folds from behind. “She’s such a good little sinner.”

“She takes it well,” Elijah said. “But she hasn’t learned how to obey.”

“Then we’ll teach her.”

Before I could beg or breathe, Gabriel pressed his cock against my ass—bare and thick—and Elijah dropped to his knees in front of me.

One priest tongue-fucking me from the front.

The other stroking himself behind me, groaning as he watched me squirm.

I was nothing but a body between them. An offering. A toy.

Elijah’s tongue licked me open while Gabriel pulled my hair back and whispered, “You like being passed between priests, don’t you?”

I moaned.

“Say it.”

“I… I like it.”

“Louder.”

“I like being used,” I gasped. “I want to be filled.”

Gabriel chuckled. “You will be.”

Then Elijah rose, wiped his mouth, and kissed me hard before turning me toward the altar.

“Bend over,” he ordered.

I obeyed.

Hands on the altar.

Ass up.

Heart racing.

And then.

Gabriel grabbed my hips.

Elijah grabbed my mouth.

Two priests.

One sinner.

Ready to be blessed.

And broken.

I didn’t know what I expected when I walked in the next day. Guilt? Shame? Maybe even closure?

But no. Just him. Sitting casually in the pew, in his priest robe—legs spread slightly, eyes dragging up and down my body like he already owned it.

I didn’t say anything. I walked past him, directly to the confessional booth. My legs ached from everything we did yesterday, but I was soaked all over again.

I sat in the darkness and whispered, “Forgive me, Father, for I’m about to sin again.”

The door creaked open. But instead of him sitting behind the screen, he stepped into my side.

Locked the door.

And pushed me hard against the wall.

“Today,” he growled, “I’m not listening to your confessions. I’m going to wring the sin out of you.”

His hand shot between my thighs, spreading me wide before I could even respond.

No games today. No teasing.

Just raw, hard, sinful fucking.

He ripped my panties in half, grabbed both my wrists, and pinned them above my head with one hand. The other grabbed my throat, his thumb brushing my jaw as he whispered, “Open your mouth.”

I did.

He spat on my tongue. Dirty. Disgusting. And so hot I moaned before he even touched me again.

He turned me around, bent me over the small wooden seat, and kicked my legs open.

“Count,” he ordered.

I barely got out a “One—ah!” before the first slap landed on my pussy.

A second. A third. My thighs were trembling, but I didn’t want him to stop.

“Beg,” he whispered.

“Please, Father… fuck me.”

He shoved inside with one brutal thrust. No warning. No easing in.

I nearly screamed, but he clamped his hand over my mouth. “You want to wake the whole church? Be a good little sinner and take it quietly.”

I nodded, muffled.

Each thrust was brutal. Deep. Unforgiving. The sound of skin on skin echoed in the tiny booth, mixed with the wetness between my thighs and the heavy panting of us both.

“You were made for this,” he snarled. “To be fucked. Used. Defiled.”

I came before I could stop myself. Shaking. Biting into his hand. Eyes rolled back.

But he didn’t stop.

He pulled out, flipped me over, and dropped to his knees in his robe, tongue lapping up my slick like he was starving.

“My communion,” he groaned. “You taste like salvation.”

He stood again, lifted my legs, and buried himself deeper this time. The angle hit everything. My mind blanked out.

“You came to confess,” he growled, “but you’re going to leave carrying my sin.”

“Do it,” I begged. “Come inside me. Mark me. Ruin me.”

He did.

One final thrust. A deep groan. And I felt every pulse of him filling me.

When he finally pulled out, his cum leaked down my thighs.

He kissed my forehead like a blessing.

And whispered, “Come again tomorrow, little sinner.”