Filthy Confessional

The heavy wooden door of the confessional creaked shut behind me, sealing us inside the small, dimly lit booth. Only a thin latticed screen separated my trembling body from Father Elias. My pussy still ached and leaked his cum from the altar the night before. I had barely slept, fingers slipping between my thighs every time I remembered how he had ruined me on sacred marble.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” I whispered, voice already hoarse with need.

A low, dangerous chuckle came from the other side. “You’re back so soon, little lamb. Couldn’t stay away from your priest’s cock?”

I bit my lip, pressing my thighs together. The thin sundress I wore again rode up my legs. No panties. Again. “I… I touched myself thinking about you all day. I couldn’t stop.”

“Show me,” he commanded, voice rough like gravel. “Lift your dress and spread your legs. Let me see what belongs to me now.”

My hands shook as I obeyed, bunching the fabric around my waist. Cool air kissed my bare, swollen pussy. I could feel his eyes on me through the lattice, devouring the sight of my slick folds still puffy from last night’s pounding.

“Already dripping again,” he growled. “Look at that greedy cunt leaking my cum. You really are a filthy little sinner.”

I heard the rustle of his cassock, then the unmistakable sound of his zipper. My breath hitched.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered. “Two fingers. Slow circles on your clit. Tell me exactly what you imagined while you were alone in your bed.”

I slid my fingers down, gasping as they met my sensitive clit. “I imagined you pulling me into the confessional… forcing me to my knees… shoving your thick cock down my throat until I gagged.”

Father Elias groaned. I could see the shadow of his hand stroking his massive erection through the screen. “Keep going. Did you finger that tight hole while you thought about choking on me?”

“Yes, Father,” I moaned, slipping two fingers inside myself. The wet squelching sound filled the tiny booth. “I fucked myself hard, pretending it was you. But my fingers aren’t enough. I need your cock. Please…”

“Beg properly,” he snarled.

“Please, Father… use my mouth. Use my throat. Make me your confessional whore.”

The screen door between us suddenly opened. Father Elias filled the narrow space, cassock open, his thick, veined cock jutting out, angry and leaking precum. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me forward.

“Open wide, little lamb. Time for your real penance.”

I barely had time to breathe before he shoved the fat head past my lips. He was huge—stretching my jaw painfully wide. Salty precum coated my tongue as he pushed deeper, hitting the back of my throat.

“Relax your throat,” he growled, hips flexing. “You’re going to take every inch like a good girl.”

Tears pricked my eyes as he forced more of his length down my throat. I gagged hard, spit dripping down my chin onto my tits, but he didn’t pull back. Instead, he held my head in place, buried to the hilt, my nose pressed against his dark pubic hair.

“That’s it… choke on your priest’s cock. This is what you came for.”

He began to fuck my face in earnest—long, deep strokes that made obscene wet sounds every time he hit the back of my throat. My mascara ran in black streaks down my cheeks. Drool poured from the corners of my mouth, soaking the front of my dress.

Father Elias pulled out suddenly, strings of spit connecting my swollen lips to his glistening cock. He slapped the heavy shaft against my face, once, twice, leaving wet marks on my skin.

“Stand up. Turn around. Hands on the wall.”

I scrambled to obey, pressing my palms against the wooden panel. He kicked my feet apart, yanking my dress up over my ass. Two thick fingers plunged straight into my soaked pussy, pumping roughly.

“So fucking wet from sucking cock in church,” he mocked. “Your cunt is clenching like it wants to be bred again.”

He added a third finger, stretching me open, curling them against my G-spot until my legs shook. His thumb pressed against my tight asshole, circling the puckered ring.

“Not tonight,” he said darkly. “But soon I’ll take this virgin ass too. Every hole will belong to me.”

Without warning, he replaced his fingers with the blunt head of his cock. One brutal thrust and he buried himself balls-deep inside me. I cried out, the sound echoing in the confessional. He was even deeper from this angle, the head of his cock kissing my cervix with every savage stroke.

“Quiet,” he hissed, one hand clamping over my mouth while the other gripped my hip hard enough to bruise. “Unless you want the whole parish to hear what a slut their sweet girl is.”

He fucked me mercilessly, hips slamming against my ass, the wet slap of skin on skin loud in the small space. My tits bounced inside the thin dress with every thrust. Each time he bottomed out, a fresh gush of my juices ran down my thighs.

“Fuck… this pussy was made for sin,” he groaned. “So tight. So greedy. Milking my cock like you were born to be my whore.”

I moaned against his palm, pushing back to meet his thrusts. Pleasure coiled tight in my belly, building fast.

Father Elias reached around and found my swollen clit, rubbing tight, rough circles. “Come for me. Come on your priest’s cock while you’re confessing your sins.”

The orgasm hit me like lightning. My walls spasmed violently around his thick shaft, squirting clear fluid down my legs as I screamed into his hand. My vision whited out. I would have collapsed if he wasn’t holding me up.

He didn’t stop. He fucked me through it, harder, chasing his own release.

“Where do you want it?” he rasped, voice strained. “Tell me, little lamb.”

“Inside,” I gasped the moment he lifted his hand from my mouth. “Please, Father… fill me again. Breed your sinful girl.”

With a guttural roar, Father Elias slammed into me one final time and exploded. Hot, thick ropes of cum flooded my pussy, pulse after pulse, so much that it overflowed immediately, dripping down my thighs in creamy rivulets. He kept grinding deep, making sure every drop stayed as deep as possible.

When he finally pulled out, a obscene gush of his seed spilled from my ruined hole onto the confessional floor. He spun me around, kissing me brutally, tasting my tears and spit.

“Look at the mess you made,” he murmured against my lips, fingers scooping up some of the leaking cum and pushing it back inside me. “You’ll walk out of here with my cum running down your legs. Everyone will wonder why the good girl is limping.”

He wiped his fingers on my lips, forcing me to taste our combined juices.

“Tomorrow night,” he said, eyes dark with promise, “we move to the rectory. And I’m not stopping until you can’t walk for days.”

I nodded weakly, legs still shaking, pussy throbbing and full.

“Yes, Father.”

As I slipped out of the confessional on unsteady legs, cum trickling down my inner thighs, I knew one thing for certain.

There was no salvation left for me.

Only eighty-three more nights of delicious, filthy surrender.