Handbook To Prayer Novels & Stories

Sunbathing in my imagination. Temptation, get behind me! Please! Please, get behind me! Okay, wait. I closed my eyes again, whispering the familiar words, clinging to them like a lifeline. Making the sign of the cross, tracing the familiar pattern against my chest. Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.

Our hands are linked, heads bowed, legs folded beneath us like children at prayer. I’d never been to one of these before. When I was a priest, I heard confessions in the box. Private. Anonymous. Safe. This is exposure. Vulnerability. Exactly what I need to break this addiction. Fourteen days since I’d last touched Bunny. Three hundred and thirty-six hours trying to purge him from my system. And still, just thinking his name made my cock hard. The holy spirit ought to be at work by now. What’s happening? “This is a place of mercy. Everyone is equal in the eyes of God. Speak and be heard.” The Father affirms in that numb, monotonous tone. His eyes land on a middle-aged brunette wearing glasses

“Louder. Let God hear how you sin while your priest touches this needy little cunt for the first time.” Uhmm,I moaned softly, pressing my forehead against the wooden screen. “Now and at the hour of our death. Amen.” His finger circled my clit with perfect, torturous pressure while another teased my entrance. “Again. Full prayer. And confess what you thought about today while I finger you.” As I started the prayer once more, he pushed one thick finger slowly inside me. I was so wet it slid in easily, stretching my virgin walls. A second finger joined, filling me, curling against a spot that made sparks explode behind my eyes.

My voice, soft, carries my heart's deepest wish. "Sweetheart," I murmur, "Let's pray for papa, okay?" He nods, his small hands clasping together near his chest. He closes his eyes and bows his head, and I follow suit. Together, we send our silent prayers out into the universe, seeking strength, hope, and healing.

Almost. "Now if I can please have your attention again." Armando says, grumbling a bit. "Yes of course, continue High Priest." Kian says, a slight hint of sarcasm in his voice and he squeezes my hand, hard. I nod, stifling a chuckle and pay attention to the Priest again. Armando takes the bowl and sprinkles some herbs in it, chanting a prayer in that same foreign language he used earlier. The entire ceremonial hall falls silent, everyone paying attention to the Priest and whatever he is saying.

She holds it in both hands, praying softly. "Receive this cross, my child. Bear it with love. Let it remind you that you now walk the road to Calvary with Him My hands are shaky as I reach for it. The cap of the dildo presses into my thighs and sticks right at the entrance of my pussy… daring me to defile my worldly service for the convent.

Her journey inspired them to embrace the power of prayer as a transformative tool, offering them a pathway to deepen their own spiritual connection and invite divine intervention into their lives. With Chapter Twenty-Four, Rita's tale neared its conclusion, leaving readers with a profound understanding—that prayer was not a ritualistic practice but a sacred dance of the heart, an invitation to surrender, to co-create, and to commune with the divine. It was a reminder of the infinite power that resided within and the boundless love that flowed through the act of prayer.

I clasp my hands and internally begin my prayers. I always start with the lord’s prayer. It’s how I was raised, and I am not prepared to give up on a lifetime of teaching. “I give thanks for the positive elements in my life, the roof over my head, and for the food in my belly. I am grateful to be surrounded by people who love and care for me. In Jesus’s name, Amen.” I take a breath, lowering my hands to my lap. I compose myself for what’s next. The hard part.

Once we were all together, Dad signaled for me to lead the prayer. I took a deep breath and nodded, realizing that this was something I could do. As we gathered in the living room, I closed my eyes and began to speak, my voice trembling. "Lord our God, You are great and almighty. We come to You with humble hearts, pleading for Your mercy. Please keep Poppy safe from all harm and bring her back to us safely. We're lost without her. She's the light of my life, and I can't imagine a world without her. Give her strength, wherever she is. And give us the strength to keep hoping, to keep believing that she'll come back to us.”

I sit straight, and smile to the working placing a new set of viand in the center aisle. My glance reaches to the crowd lining up in silence as each of them is getting inside the mess hall. These must be students having their retreats here. Then, a facilitator with a cross necklace stands in front and starts to instruct the retreatants to rise as prayer for the meal will be graced. “In the name of the Father, and of the son, and of the Holy Spirit,” he motions his gesture, and recites the prayer, eyes closed.