Novelas y relatos de A Sinful Confession

Every horrible sin humanity ever committed pours into my head at once. A father describing how he crept into his daughter’s room night after night. A nun confessing she poisoned her entire convent so she could fuck the local bishop on their corpses. Kings boasting about wars started just to rape the conquered women. Priests detailing how they sold children for power. Mothers admitting they drowned unwanted babies while touching themselves. The voices overlap, scream, moan, laugh. Every depraved act, every betrayal, every sick desire floods me. I clap my hands over my ears. It does nothing. The sins sink further.

I managed to say, the lust evident in my voice even though I tried to hide it as I kept fucking myself, I waited for him to say something, I wanted to hear his voice again—needed to, but he didn’t say anything. “Fuck me, father, for I have sinned.” It wasn’t until the words left my mouth that I realized what I’d said. I swallowed my moan, and my eyes widened. I waited again, but he still didn’t say anything. “I meant, forgive me, father, for I have sinned.” I eventually corrected myself with my fingers knuckles deep in my cunt as I started confessing. Breathlessly and so dangerously close to orgasming, I told the priest that I had sinned with multiple men, and when he asked how, I gave him a

_*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> I've been saying those words every week for the past three months. Every Friday evening, I slip into the confessional at St. Augustine's, kneel on the worn velvet cushion, and whisper my sins through the latticed screen to Father Michael. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> At first, my confessions were ordinary. I lied to my mother. I took the Lord's name in vain. I had impure thoughts about my coworker.

For several seconds, he said nothing. Then he looked back at me. “Who sent this to you?” “You don't get to ask me questions right now Alexander. Answer my question. Did you kill him?” “Yes.” The single word knocked the breath out of me. I stared at him, hoping he would take it back, hoping he would tell me there was some explanation I hadn't considered, but he didn't. “You actually killed him.” “Yes.” “And you lied to me.” “I did.” My chest tightened. “How can you stand there and admit that so easily?”

I whispered, the microphone catching the hitch in my voice, "the only way to know mercy is to be completely consumed by the sin. To feel the fire until there is nothing left but total surrender and the name of the Lord on your lips." I abruptly closed the book. My face was flushed, my heart hammering. I could feel the throb in my lap, the familiar, shameful bulge against the silk of my robes. As the choir began the hymn, she didn't join in. She simply stood, adjusted the strap of her bag, and winked at me before slipping out the side door. She had heard my confession, and she knew I was far from cured. I was back in the confession booth the next Friday. Days of fasting and discipline went do

My chest tightened. “You’re just scared of what people would say.” I opened my mouth to deny it. But no words came out. Because yes. I was scared. Scared of how fast this was happening. Scared of wanting him this much. Scared that I was already losing control. Scared of what the world would say. I was scared of everything that has to do with this sinful desire burning in my veins. Sebastian stared at me for one long second before speaking again. “The next time you kiss me…”

Elijah stayed pressed to his back, forehead against the wood, still inside him, still breathing like he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. “God,” he whispered. Rum chuckled hoarsely, lips curling. “You think He’s still listening?” Silence. Then Elijah pulled out slowly, watching his cúm slide out of Rum’s ruined hole. Rum turned, eyes half-lidded, mascara smudged, face flushed. “I’d sin again for you,” he said softly. “I’d sin better.” And Elijah— Elijah was already hardening again. Because once you fuck a sinner in the confessional, you don’t stop. You preach with your cóck.

Anyways I should not dwell on that since I was not going to date anyone anyways. First of all my parents were twisted and would probably do something with the information to make my life more miserable and second of all I was broken, twisted so no one would probably try to date me. I didn’t trust anyone enough to date someone anyways. I finally reached my first class which is chemistry and sat down on my seat. “Oh look who it is, the one and only slut ” said a voice. A voice I sadly knew too well. It was Selena who spoke and her clique was right behind her of course.

I can't even understand what it is about him that is attracting me to him so fucking much, because apart from his dominant manly appearance and devilishly good look, which God, unfortunately, gave him, he is just one cold-blooded asshole. I'm pretty sure this man has no emotions, he's just a walking robot. But still, I can't stop fantasizing about how good his lips felt on mine or how bad I want his hands sliding down my body as he moans my name. I wanted to do things with him so forbidden, so unholy that it makes me question my fucking moral values. But I promised myself that these 3 days would be for me and me only. I won't let my mother or him ruin this.

“What a filthy little lamb you are. Touching yourself in the Lord’s house.” Shame burned my cheeks, but my body burned with heat. My knees slid onto the worn carpet automatically, head bowed. Francis stepped closer, the scent of incense and his cologne wrapping around me. “You come here to sing praises, yet you spread your legs like a harlot. Is this how you worship?” My breath caught. “I…I couldn’t help it. I'm sorry.” "Well, now you need to confess to me. As the priest isn't here. Confess your sins to me. Tell me exactly what you were doing when I caught you.”