Semua Bab Wet Desires: Bab 141 - Bab 150

Chapter 3: Bound and BredHis words hang in the air like a threat wrapped in velvet, and I feel my body betray me again, a fresh wave of slickness gathering between my thighs despite the ache from earlier. Derek's arm is heavy around my waist, his cum still lingering on my tongue, bitter and thick. I want to shove him away, scream for help, but the way he looks at me—predatory, possessive—roots me in place. "Round two," he murmurs, fingers tracing lazy circles on my hip. "But this time, we're playing by my rules. Real rules."Before I can protest, he rolls off the bed, his cock already twitching back to life, glistening from my mouth. He rummages in the nightstand drawer, pulling out coils of soft black rope, a leather paddle, and what looks like nipple clamps attached to a chain. My heart hammers. BDSM shit. I've seen it online, fantasized in secret, but this? With him? No fucking way. "What the hell is that? Let me go, Derek. This is assault."He chuckles, low and dark, advancing li

Chapter 2: The Altar ClothThe next evening she came earlier than commanded.I heard the knock at eight-twenty-three—seven minutes before the hour I had set. A small defiance, or perhaps eagerness dressed as mistake. Either way, it stirred something low in my gut.I let her wait.Three minutes. Four. The corridor outside my quarters was silent except for the faint creak of old beams settling in the night chill. I pictured her there: black habit, white coif, hands folded, breathing shallow, wondering if I would punish the early arrival or ignore it.At eight-twenty-eight I spoke.“Enter.”The latch clicked. She slipped inside like smoke, closed the door without sound, and immediately sank to her knees in the centre of the room. Head bowed. Rosary dangling between trembling fingers. The candle on my desk threw long shadows across her back.I remained seated, breviary open but unread.“You are early, Sister Chiara.”Her shoulders tensed. “Forgive me, Father. I… I could not wait.”The adm

I stepped into the dimly lit guest room of the convent, the air thick with the scent of polished wood and faint incense. As a visiting priest from the diocese, I'd been sent here to assist with the upcoming retreat, but already the isolation of this place gnawed at me. The stone walls seemed to close in, amplifying every creak and whisper. I was handsome, or so the parishioners back home whispered—tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features and dark hair that curled just enough to look roguish under my collar. But here, among these veiled women, I felt the weight of my vows more acutely than ever.The door clicked shut behind me, and I exhaled, loosening my cassock. The journey had been long, and the habit of celibacy chafed worse than the stiff fabric against my skin. I needed to change into something lighter for the evening prayers. My fingers worked the buttons, peeling the black cloth from my shoulders until it pooled at my feet. Standing there in just my undershirt and trousers,

Chapter 3: Sacrilegious SurrenderThe weight of our escalating sins pressed upon me like the stone walls of the convent, unyielding and cold. Each dawn brought the tolling bells, calling us to prayer, but my devotions had twisted into something profane. From the pulpit, I spoke of redemption, yet my gaze lingered on Elena during mass, her form shrouded in black but her posture betraying the subtle shifts—thighs pressing together, cheeks heating under the veil. She was unraveling, her faith fracturing under the onslaught of desire, and I reveled in it. The priest in me recoiled, whispering of damnation, but the man—the dominant force she'd awakened—yearned to push further, to bind her not just in body but in soul, to profane the holy with our lust.Nights had become our ritual of ruin. She'd slip into my quarters after the sisters had retired, her knocks growing bolder, her pleas more desperate. But tonight, as the clock struck midnight and thunder rumbled outside, shaking the ancient

His pleas echoed in the confessional, raw and desperate, as Maria and I dismounted his slick face, our thighs glistening with his tears and our own arousal. Father Elias lay there, chest heaving, his virgin cock still semi-hard and twitching from the aftershocks of his second release. Cum streaked his cassock, mixing with the sweat beading on his pale skin, and his lips shone with our juices, swollen from the relentless grinding. The air hung thick with the musky scent of sex—salty semen, tangy pussy, and the faint incense from the altar beyond.I slid down his body, feeling the heat radiating from his feverish skin through the thin fabric. 'Look at you, Father,' I whispered, my breath hot against his ear, nipping the lobe until he shivered. 'All broken and begging like a whore in heat. But you want more, don't you? You want to bury that holy cock inside us.' Maria knelt beside him, her fingers tracing lazy circles around his navel, dipping lower to tease the sensitive head of his dic