SIN-STURBATION: 50 Shades Of Explicitly Forbidden Stories.

Father Julian’s POV

“Father, forgive me, for I have sinned…”

I furrowed my brows in confusion, glancing at the wooden divider, even though the small holes in the screen were too narrow to offer a clear view of who sat on the other side.

“Is that how they usually begin?” the voice asked. It was high-pitched and sing-song, instantly drawing my attention. She giggled, a soft, airy sound. “I don’t know. I’ve never been to one of these things before…”

“Y-you haven’t been to a confession?” I blurted out.

Of course, dumbass, she just said that. I cursed internally. Realizing the slip, I quickly made the sign of the cross, muttering a prayer under my breath.

“You sound really young, Father.” She giggled again.

Chills traveled down my spine. I adjusted my collar, suddenly feeling hot despite the chill of the air conditioning in the booth.

“Do I have to always call you Father? I don’t know, it just feels weird. I can tell you’re young…”

There were rustling sounds, like she was shifting around, getting comfortable. A light chuckle followed. “I don’t know. Some of the men make me call them ‘daddy.’ They’re a lot older, and it’s weird, but I understand it, I guess. You, on the other hand, I get to call you daddy—”

“Father,” I cut in, clearing my throat sharply. “You call me Father. Not daddy. Just Father. What is your name?”

“Candy,” she answered.

“Your real name?”

“Candy is just fine,” she replied.

I adjusted myself on the hard seat. “Candy, seeing as it is your first time, I will tell you what to do. You make the sign of the cross and say: ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.’ Then you tell me the length of time since your last confession. In your case, it has been your whole lifetime.”

“Bless me, Father—” Another light giggle.

I swallowed hard. “What is it, Candy?” The irony of her name in this situation was not lost on me.

“I’m having naughty thoughts right now, calling you Father,” she whispered softly. “Do I have to confess those thoughts out loud to you? They are really, really naughty…”

My eyes widened as my jaw tensed. “Well—yes. Candy, can we focus on the prayers so I can hear your confession?”

“Okay, Father.” A light snicker. A long pause followed before she spoke again. “Father, forgive me, for I have sinned. And I have never done confession.”

“You are welcome, Sister—Candy,” I said with a slight hesitation. “Be encouraged that your Father in heaven is merciful and ready to receive you at all times with arms open wide.”

“Then what’s next?” There was a tinge of excitement in her voice.

“You confess your sins,” I said. I had no idea I was about to regret those words.

“Where do I begin, where do I begin…” she wondered. “This feels a lot like therapy, doesn’t it?”

“Sure, if you want to see it that way, Sister Candy.”

I shouldn’t have said that. I should have ended this sham from the onset. I should have known the moment the chills hit me, or when she mentioned the "naughty thoughts." I should have walked away, maybe booked myself a confession. Instead, I sat there, mesmerized by her voice.

“I think it would be easier confessing my sins from yesterday,” she started. “I was dancing. The dress they gave me... it barely fit. I'm busty, Father, and the fabric was so thin it barely covered my tits, you know... You should have heard the men. Hollering, reaching out, they were loud. One of them touched me here—”

“Candy, please,” I interrupted, my voice tight. “Just list the sins. You don't need to describe the scene.”

“But that's the sin, isn't it?” she continued, ignoring me. Her voice was an enchantment, weaving a picture in my head that I couldn't unsee. “The men touched me all over. Most of them weren’t allowed to, but they did it anyway. I didn't even like it that much, and yet... my body reacted. By the time I got off stage, my panties were soaking wet.”

I gripped my rosary beads so hard my knuckles turned white. My skin was slick with sweat. “Focus, Candy. List the acts. Do not elaborate.”

“Then the day before,” she went on, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “There was this girl. And a patron. The girl started kissing me, it was unplanned, Father. I was too stunned to speak. Her lips were so soft against mine; she tasted like wine, and he just watched us. She let her hands wander all over my...”

“Just list the sins, Sister Candy!” I strained to keep my voice from trembling.

“Where is the fun in that?”

“It’s not supposed to be fun,” I snapped, my heart hammering against my ribs. “You are supposed to be repentant. To change your ways.”

“And the other day, there were two men,” she whispered. There were rattling sounds as she leaned closer. I could smell her vanilla perfume. “I was on fire that night; I had a lot to drink before. You see, these men were special, VIP. They paid for me and I gave them a darn good show. I had on my favorite gold bikini set. It’s basically a strip of clothing; doesn’t cover anything—”

I squeezed my eyes shut, my thumb digging into a wooden bead. “Candy, please. This is not—”

“The lights in the VIP room were so dim I couldn’t see their faces,” she continued, ignoring me. Her voice was low. “But I could feel them. It was supposed to be a simple dance, and I am a darn good dancer. A dance to get their cocks hard, but it wasn’t enough for them. A hand found my waist; one of the men pulled me toward him with a force that tore my panties loose. The other man grabbed my tits. His palms were rough, Father. My breath hitched, and I just… I let him.”

“Stop,” I croaked. It was a pathetic plea.

“I let them fondle me in that room, their hands caressing every inch of my body. Even parts I didn’t think they would touch,” she breathed, the sound of her lips moving almost audible through the screen. “One of the men had slipped a finger into my asshole. At the end of it, I was crying out in pleasure, lying in a pool of my own cum. Does that make me a bad person? That I didn't pull away?” I could hear the mocking tone in her voice.

“You are here to seek penance,” I managed to say, though my heart was pounding in my chest. “Not to relive the sensation.”

“But the sensation is the sin, isn't it?” She giggled, that high, sing-song note returning to mock my composure. “The way my skin burned where he touched me. Tell me, Father... are you praying for me right now? Or are you just listening?”

Suddenly, I felt it, a sharp, betraying throb in my lap. My breath hitched. The blood was rushing south, creating a prominent bulge that made the fabric of my slacks tighter.

“That’s enough!” I hissed, my voice cracking. “End it. Now.”

“Oh,” she whispered, sounding almost surprised. “Am I finished?”

“Repeat after me,” I commanded, desperate to get her out of the booth before I lost my mind entirely. I dictated the final prayers, my voice strained. “Go and sin no more, Candy.”

“Oh, I will,” she chirped, the sing-song tone returning as she stood up. “I have a dance this Saturday night. So I’ll be back, Father. See you next Friday.”

The door to her side of the booth clicked shut.

I let out a huge, shuddering sigh of relief, slumping back against the wall. I looked down, staring at the unmistakable bulge in my pants with a mix of intense embarrassment and crushing shame. My hands were shaking as I wiped the sweat from my forehead.

I was a priest. This was a house of God. And yet, as I sat there in the dark, the shame couldn't quite drown out the one thought that terrified me most: I was already counting the days until Friday.