Confession Duet Novels & Stories

I screamed into the air, my face slick with tears and sweat. He pounded harder, faster, the bed creaking under us. “Say it loud. Who’s my filthy fuck-hole forever?” “I’M YOUR FILTHY FUCK-HOLE FOREVER!” I yelled, my throat burning, my body shaking. And with every thrust, with every slam I was reminded over and over again of who I was now. Nothing more than his cum-rag. And this, this is my cum-stained confession. The END.

Someone pissed my mate off last night. I begin to circle the overly confident she-wolf, and she tries to keep her smug expression in its place. But with each circle, her confidence dips, and mine grows. I feel my rebirther powers wanting to escape, but I keep them reigned in. I have no idea what would happen if they weren't being used for changing wolves, but I bet it isn't good. Finally, I let my voice slice through the tense air. "Whatever plan you and your father have made with Kraven will fail. And whatever dream you have of ruling this pack will fail. Just like your attempt at seducing my mate," I whisper the last bit as I let my fingertips brush against her almost healed bruises.

The tapes still sat there, like sleeping monsters. And one of them… the newest one… had something scrawled on the label now in pen that hadn’t been there before. “June 6. Confession.” Her name wasn’t on it. But Damian’s was. And her blood turned to ice. Lydia’s fingers hovered over the spine of the tape labeled June 6 – Confession. Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat more deafening than the last. Behind her, Damian stirred in bed, murmuring something incoherent in his sleep.

As my words flowed, I felt a cathartic release, a torrent of emotions surging forth like a river breaking through a dam. My gaze never wavered, locking onto his eyes as though searching for an understanding that transcended words. "Can I truly bear the weight of your life hanging in the balance, the uncertainty gnawing at my every thought? The juxtaposition of my desires, conflicting yet intertwined – your safety and hers – it lays bare the vulnerability that gnaws at my core." The confession hung in the air, a confession not just to him, but to myself as well.

“I’m yours! Ahhh—fuck, Nate, I’m yours!” The dirty words spilled from my lips without a second of hesitation. I didn't care about Derek. I didn't care about my marriage, my reputation, or the consequences waiting for me tomorrow. All that existed in the entire universe was the wall behind the bed frame violently crashing against the drywall and the wet, slapping sound of our skin colliding, and the absolute destruction Nate was wreaking upon my body. He let out a deep, chest-rumbling groan at my confession, his pace turning fast, frantic, and completely lethal.

I whispered but made sure he heard. Just as we were about to leave, I heard his voice. “Wait, if I confess I will be saved?” Eduardo asked and I nodded vehemently. “Stupid! What do you take me for, a fool?” he asked angrily again. “You think I don't know of your plans? You just need me to confess so you will file a case. How will I be saved after confessing that I killed your family alongside Tristan,” Eduardo rambled angrily. “Thank you for confessing,” I said with a smirk as we walked out of the room. Eduardo hadn’t realized when he said those words, knowing how frustrated he was I decided to play my cards well and fortunately it worked.

mind: the secret glances, the whispered promises, the hidden touches. I recall the rush of adrenaline as we sneaked around, avoiding detection. But now, those memories taunt me, reminders of my failure. I glance around my room, the familiar comforts now feeling hollow. My icons, once reminders of my devotion, now seem like mocking echoes of my failure. The crucifix on my wall appears to judge me, Christ's eyes seeming to bore into my soul.I think of my congregation, trusting souls who look up to me for guidance. What would they say if they knew? Would they still listen to my words, or would they see the hypocrisy? My parents, devout Catholics who encouraged my vocation, would be heartbroken

His cock, still inside her, gave one last throb, releasing another drop of cum. “You are absolved… but only until tomorrow night. Tomorrow I want that ass again… and this time I’m going to record it. I want to film you on all fours on the altar, taking cock in both holes, screaming my name while you cum like the habit-wearing slut you are. And then I’ll watch it with you while I fuck you again.” Clara laughed softly, clenching her pussy around his cock and feeling the hot cum leak out. “Amen, Father… amen. I can hardly wait for the next confession.”

The only way to break the spell was if the confessor dies. The confessors referred to themselves as "sisters" and lived together and of course, they had a leader. Isabelle's sister was their leader. King Caesar - back then, when he was still a prince - had been on a long trip with some guards. When it was nightfall, they found a place to camp, but unknown to them, it was close to the camp of the confessors. While they were asleep, the confessors attacked them and confessed him - Caesar - alongside some of his men. He was confessed by Tabitha - Isabelle's blood sister and the leader of the confessors at that time.

That was why he confessed to cheating without restraint. I staggered out of the club and stood by the roadside for a long time. Once I finally came back to my senses, I wiped the tears from my face and called the person I trusted most. “I need to fake an accident and a death certificate to make my husband believe I’m dead.” Since he would use every method to keep me from divorcing him, I would die before him.