The Way To Confess Novels & Stories

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

"Go in search of the confessor. I want her found by all means. "No matter what, make sure she doesn't die. I want her alive". He paused and took in a deep breath. "I have so many plans in store for her". Silence. "Yes, My King" the guards bowed and left. * * Her name is Isabelle. And the story of how she became the last confessor.... The confessors were females with special powers of compulsion. They compare someone by forcing them to look into their eyes, then the power takes over. The person becomes their slaves for as long as they live and do every single thing they say. The only way to break the spell was if the confessor dies.

In God. As he walked past, I spoke up politely. “Please, is this where Priest Paul Silas priests over?” “Yes,” he answered with a nod. “He’s right in there.” He pointed at the confessional. Of course. That’s exactly where he should be. No mass, no sermon, but the confessional is always open. For those burdened by sin. For those who need to speak and to be heard. I walked toward it slowly, my footsteps echoing in the vast space. If I wanted to speak to Stitch, Paul, then maybe this was the only way. Not as someone who used to know him. But as another lost soul, needing to be heard.

Still, it was probably not a good idea to just whip out his cock. Instead he placed a hand on the soft blonde head, imagining pulling it into his crotch. She looked up at him with watery eyes. "Be at peace, my child," He said. "I can help you to find the forgiveness of God." "Yes! Yes please help me Father." She grabbed his legs in desperation. "You will need to confess your sins to me." He said, waving towards the new confessional in the far corner of the room. "Oh, of course, of course." She said, already smiling in relief.

“Sit down.” I did. My hands trembled in my lap as I struggled to find the right words. How do you confess something like this to a man who had never once pressured you, never once crossed your boundaries? “I didn’t plan this,” I said quickly. “I never meant for things to get complicated.” Theo didn’t interrupt. He just listened... like he always did. “I’m confused,” I admitted. “I’m angry. I’m still healing. And I made a mistake.”

Rebecca gathered it with two fingers and pushed it back into her pussy, slow and deliberate, while Daniel watched. They collapsed onto the bed together, Sienna between them, wrecked and glowing. Daniel’s heavy arm draped over her waist. Rebecca’s leg slid between hers. For a while the only sound was their breathing and the distant lap of water against the dock. Eventually Daniel spoke, voice quieter. “Claire can never know.” “I know,” Sienna whispered. Rebecca turned Sienna’s face toward her and kissed her once—slower this time, almost tender. Daniel pressed a matching kiss to the back of her shoulder.

“The truth straight from the source.” I blinked, realizing what they needed, and immediately understanding how difficult it would be to get. I said, “We need a confession.”

Then all eyes turn to me. “You may speak, my son.” The Father’s voice makes my breath cease. Unlinking my fingers, I fist them at my sides, gathering all the courage I can muster. “I-I’ve killed, stolen, and am guilty of the seven deadly sins. But I don’t want to be free from them, except one… Lust.” The silence is jarring. Nothing moves. What are they thinking? They better not judge me. Confession Tuesdays are highly confidential. It better stay that way.

"There are not many who could resist such temptations, but don't worry, my child. Speak your truths." "Okay, I can do this," I said to myself and took in a heavy breath. "I have laid with people out of wedlock." Then, I heard Father Daniels attempt to stifle a laugh. "Do you mind me speaking freely?" Father Daniels asked. "Of course, Father." I told him. "Zara," He said, confirming that he knew it was me, "You are a young woman. God will not judge you for giving in to your needs. I have heard many stories in confession, I'm sure they will make your acts seem less severe."

She was just like the old me, wasn't she? No matter how coldly she had been treated, she would still run after him like a hopeful puppy. The only difference was that I had confessed to him 143 times over the course of five years. As I carried my belongings into the cab, I received a text message from Aldric. "Let's have your 144th declaration tomorrow. I'll be waiting for you with the decorated car." I laughed before removing my SIM card and tossing it away. My luggage had been packed, and a one-way ticket to Eastmere had been booked.