บททั้งหมดของ Private Sins : A Collection Of Steamy stories (Erotica): บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

Jonah had not planned to say anything true. That was the safest way to walk into a confessional: carry a few ordinary sins, keep your voice even, leave the rest buried where it belonged. He was twenty-two. Old enough to know better. Old enough to sit across from Father Elias and still feel the man’s attention like heat through the screen. The church was quiet in the late afternoon. Outside, traffic moved faintly beyond the stone walls. Inside, incense and polished wood and the soft, enclosed privacy of the booth made every breath feel louder than it should. Jonah slid the curtain aside and knelt. For a moment there was only silence on the other side. Then Elias spoke, voice low and controlled, the same voice that carried through Sunday sermons without needing force. “Go ahead when you’re ready.” Jonah’s palms were damp. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” A pause. “How long since your last confession?” “A few months.” “I’m listening.” Jonah stared at the lattice between

Three days passed before Jonah used the invitation.He told himself he was waiting for a clean window, for the right quiet hour, but the truth was simpler and uglier: he was testing how long he could last without it. The memory of Elias’s cock buried inside him in his mother’s hallway had not faded. It sat under his skin like a second pulse. Every time he closed his eyes he felt the stretch again, heard the broken way the priest had breathed *God forgive me* while he kept thrusting.On the fourth evening he left the house after dark with a thin excuse about walking off a headache. The rectory sat behind the church, separated by a short stretch of gravel and the shadow of the old yew trees. A single lamp burned in a downstairs window. Jonah cut across the grass instead of using the path, heart knocking hard enough that he could feel it in his throat.The side door was unlocked.He stepped into a narrow hallway that smelled of old wood, beeswax, and the faint residual incense that clung

The parish carnival turned the church grounds into something almost unrecognisable.Strings of lights hung between the old yew trees. Folding tables groaned under trays of baked goods and paper plates of barbecue. Children ran between the game stalls with painted faces and sticky fingers. Music from a portable speaker mixed with laughter and the occasional shout from the ring-toss. The whole place smelled of sugar, grilled meat, and cut grass. Father Elias moved through it in full clerical black, collar bright under the late-afternoon sun, smiling at parishioners, accepting thanks, blessing the occasional toddler when asked. He looked exactly as he was supposed to look: steady, kind, untouchable.Jonah watched him from the edge of the crowd for almost twenty minutes before he received the message.*Sacristy. Now. Side door. Five minutes.*He did not answer. He simply set down the half-finished cup of lemonade he had been holding for appearance’s sake and walked away from the noise.Th

Lena wrote the official note the next morning with a steady hand and a ruined conscience.*Patient demonstrated increased engagement. No violent incident. Recommend continued clinical contact under standard dual-officer protocol.*She read it twice, then submitted it before she could add the truth in the margins:*I let the most dangerous inmate in the facility fuck me against a wall and then walked back to my desk like the wetness in my underwear was irrelevant.*The building did not care. The system only wanted measurable compliance. Silas Kane had remained seated in formal session. He had answered questions. He had not attacked staff. On paper, that was progress.In her body, it was something else entirely.By the time the second formal session came around, Lena had changed her tights twice before leaving home and still felt exposed. She told herself she would keep the desk between them. She told herself the side-room collapse had been a temporary insanity caused by adrenaline and

Lena requested the session change in writing.Not a side-room gap this time. Not a transfer delay. A formal request for extended clinical contact based on “continued engagement and emerging insight markers.” She used every clean phrase the system rewarded. Calder approved it in under an hour because the charts looked good and dangerous men who stayed seated made supervisors generous.She walked into the interview room knowing exactly what she had done.Silas knew too.They sat him down under dual-officer watch, cuffs locked, chain neat, and he looked at her with a private amusement so sharp it felt like a hand on the back of her neck.“Extended session,” he said. “Congratulations, Doc. You learned how to forge progress.”“We’re reviewing accountability and future risk reduction.”Silas smiled. “No. We’re reviewing how many times you’re willing to lie on official paper to keep getting fucked.”“Kane,” one officer warned.Lena’s stomach tightened. “If you can’t remain clinical, this end