Confession Novels & Stories

Although I was hidden, I knew he would recognise my voice straight away. "Bless me, Father," I whispered nervously, "It has been eight months since my last confession." He spoke from the bible and made the sign of the cross before continuing. "What would you like to confess, my child?" He asked. Oh god, please forgive me. "I have been indulgent in... lust." I admitted. I was expecting a gasp or some judgement, but honestly, I had no idea what other people spoke of in these confessions. "Do not be afraid," Father Daniels spoke. "This is a safe place. It is just you, me and God."

"None of your family, or anyone else, will know about your confessions." "What should I do?" I asked. "What if I can't stop myself from letting my lust control me again?" "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself," He told me. "As long as you are safe and aware of what you are doing, then you will be okay in the eyes of God. And I am always here to help with your confessions." A weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and with that... my pussy twitched. I had been so overwhelmed by this guilt lately, but now, it was gone.

His voice through the lattice is quieter, closer, intimate in the way that small dark spaces make everything intimate. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” I say. “It has been ten years since my last confession.” “Tell me your sins.” I take a breath. The confessional smells like a hundred years of whispered secrets. His breathing is audible through the screen, and I can hear him controlling it, performing calm. “I’ve been having impure thoughts.” A pause. “What kind of impure thoughts?” “Sexual thoughts. About a man.” “This is not uncommon. The flesh is –”

He said the crucifix was made out of the cross Jesus Christ was crucified on and that it is sure to ward off demonic attacks and possessions as long as she has it on her always. .................................. ✍🏾 Jessica goes to St Paul’s Parish to have a confession, she walks into the church with a veil over her face and goes into the confession box and removes the veil. “Bless me Father for I have sinned. It has been far too long since my last confession,” she says. “No sin is too great for God to forgive, my child,” he says. “What if I said I didn’t come to confess my sins?” “Then what are

Tj repeats “Well now we confess” “That’s not how-“ Before Cole could have a valid crash out at Tj the small window seated between the booths open up and someone speaks. “Confession” a voice says from the other side, smooth and bored “State your sins” Tj doesn’t miss a beat and says “Bless me Father, for I’m about to sin” There’s a pause. Then a quiet chuckle. “Bold” the voice says “Proceed” Something clicks beneath the bench, the wooden wall behind us shifts- opening as cold air blows from the candle lit stairs going down.

she said calmly, “it will be revealed, and you will remain exiled. But if you speak the truth, the moon will reveal that as well.” I stared out at the sea and looked into the waters to see my distorted reflection. For a moment I felt fear, not fear of the truth, but fear of being judged. That maybe everything I would say was not going to be honest. But then I inhaled deeply. “I acknowledge my past,” I began, my voice steady. “I was exiled under false judgment, punished for a crime I did not commit. I stand before the sea and the moon and confess that I had no hand in the attack of Damien Blackthorne. I did not harm him. I did not conspire against him. I did not wish him death.”

Ruth repeatedly played the recording. Each time, Esmerelda's voice filled the air again. The hospital room was eerily silent, except for the recording playing on repeat. Minutes dragged by until, all of a sudden, Ruth hurled the phone against the wall. She then turned her cold eyes on Esmerelda. "Do you have anything left to say?" Esmerelda frantically shook her head. This time, her tears were real. "Mom, I was wrong. I was joking. I didn't think Clara would take it seriously… I really didn't mean it…"

I took a sip of my drink and replied, "It's water," trying to maintain my facade. Triston seemed puzzled by my response, but I didn't bother explaining further. ----------------------------------- Some time had passed by, as I was ignoring the man at my side. He was going on about something- probably the fact that I’ve had four more what he believed to be waters and have finally begun to feel numb at his words. Music began playing in the ballroom again, and I felt like dancing. I was handed one more drink that I happily took.

The dried wax that clung to the edge of my ribs. And the collar. I ran my fingers across it feeling not restrained, but claimed. Underneath the pillow, I found another card. Rest. Breathe. You're not broken. You're opened. When you're ready, write your next confession. There were no flowers. No demands. Just space. And the echo of everything we’d shared. Somewhere between heat and silence, I smiled. Because I wasn’t just a submissive anymore. I was a story unfolding. One confession at a time.

“You’re all I need, Aiden.” “But you’re shaking,” He said worriedly. I bit my lower lip. Despite the little flames crawling inside my body, burning me whole, I was shaking. I gripped harder on his shoulders, perhaps blushing as my lips curved into a sheepish smile. “I have a confession to make.” I swallowed hard; my core was wet as I felt his hard manhood. “Confession…” He grinned, lowering his head and hovering his lips on my ear. “Better confess everything, Baby, because I’ll surely punish you today if I find out you misbehave.”