Priest Spicy Chapters List Novels & Stories

4 ~ My Priest, My Damnation. JOSEPH’s POV The vespers service ended with the choir's voices fading into solemn chants, the last notes hanging like smoke in the dimming light. I sat in the front pew, my hands clasped too tightly in prayer, but my mind was a whirlwind of anticipation and guilt. Father Matteo stood at the altar, his silhouette framed by flickering candles and the massive crucifix looming overhead. His homily had been on temptation and the flesh's weakness, words that felt aimed straight at me, each syllable stoking the fire low in my belly.

My pleas were swallowed by the chanting, unheard, unwanted. Holy water hit my skin, a searing burn, and sizzled, like drops of acid. Smoke, acrid and metallic, rose from my arms, a horrifying testament to the corruption they claimed I harbored. "Possessed," the priest muttered, his eyes narrowed, filled with a righteous disgust. "She opens her legs and spreads evil."

Hands on my breasts, lifting them, weighing them, pinching the nipples. I no longer know where they are, these hands. I no longer know how many there are. They are everywhere at once, on every centimeter of my skin, covering me, uncovering me, exploring me. Some rough, others soft. Some hesitant, almost timid, others sure of themselves, almost brutal. Some caress, others pinch, press, scratch lightly. "Open your eyes," says the High Priest's voice. I obey. He is leaning over me, his face very close, a few centimeters from mine. His light eyes plunge into mine, holding me, restraining me.

Trigger Warnings: Taboo themes (religious sacrilege), power imbalance, rough sexual play, choking, spanking, facial abuse, and explicit language. Selene The air in the Cedar Creek Chapel was thick with the scent of floor wax and old hymnals, a smell that had defined the nineteen years of my life. My father, Preacher Miller, saw this place as a sanctuary. I saw it as a cage. Every Sunday, I stood on the altar in my white lace dresses, the living embodiment of "purity" for the congregation to admire. But as the summer sun beat down on the stained glass, casting long, crimson shadows across the pews, I knew my holiness was a hollow shell.

The Priest’s Virgin Whore **Chapter 1** The old church smelled of burning candles and polished wood. Late afternoon light came through the stained glass windows and painted soft colors across the stone floor. I sat in the front pew wearing my white Sunday dress that reached just below my knees. My hands rested in my lap but my mind would not stay still.

“Suck the head first, roll your tongue all around it like you are praying with your mouth. Yes, just like that good girl. Now take more slide those pretty lips down the shaft.” I bobbed my head taking him deeper until he hit the back of my throat and I gagged a little but I didn’t pull away. Spit ran down my chin dripping onto my exposed tits and mixing with the wetness still leaking from my nipples. My cross necklace swayed with every movement of my head catching the light while I sucked him harder hollowing my cheeks. “Look at you,” he groaned, his hips rocking slowly, feeding me more of his thick cock. “Sucking a priest’s dick with your holy cross still around your neck. Your faith and yo

“…You…! To think you’d still behave so presumptuously even though you’re about to be done for!” growled the priest in anger. Before he could say anything else, however, the priest momentarily froze. Now staring-wide eyed at Gerald, the priest was able to somehow see flames reflected in Gerald’s eyes. He couldn’t look away, and shortly after, the priest began feeling a burning sensation on the soles of his feet… Following that, the priest screamed miserably before turning into nothing but dust in less than a second!

He whispers. “The seven deadly sins.” Knowing, but more like anticipating after seeing the truth and the half of the future where everyone in this game of the hell-like world is running into. He flips the pages of the books and fast, like commanding it to heed to his wishes, it ends in the particular chapter by which he reads with confidence, excitement, and ease. “Greed and Glutton.”

Placing my laptop on his desk, I slide my fingers through my hair and gaze out his window. It’s not until a few minutes later that I feel the heat of a male presence behind me. Priest inhales deeply before he says a word. However, what he says next makes my world turn on its axis. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Are you fucking Tariq now?” My face flames at his heated words. Feeling anger rush through my veins, I push at his chest and growl out. “Go to hell, Priest! Who I fuck or don’t fuck is none of your goddamn business!”

Alaric nodded slightly as I took up position again at his side. The priest lifted his hands again, beginning to chant in the old tongue. The pull of the bond glowed a richer gold, responding to the holy call. I fought to breathe as usual, fought not to feel the burden of all the things that pressed upon me—my past, my lies, my terror. And the priest stopped. His voice was trapped in his throat, the chant broken. The energy within the room stopped. He blinked, his eyes sharpening on me as if he saw something I did not.