Confession

The pitter-patter of my ballet flats echoed quietly as I walked through the labyrinth of our church's basement. I was here to see Father Finnegan; I'd requested confession after the events that unfolded between me and my stepfather since my mother's passing a month ago. Father Finnegan suggested we meet in his personal office rather than the confessional chamber, and in my naïveté I didn't recognize the trap he was laying.

"Hello, Gracie," he soothed when I walked in the door. "Come, come, have a seat."

I tip-toed nervously to the bench against the wall on which Father Finnegan was sitting. I thought it odd that he wasn't in his usual chair, but figured he wanted us to both be on the bench so I would be comforted while confessing my sins. I smoothed the back of my short, pleated skirt before sitting, but the cold wood still chilled my bare thighs.

"Gracie, what a lovely girl you are."

Father Finnegan had been watching me intently since I'd stepped inside. As a 20-year-old, petite blonde, male attention wasn't anything new, but getting it from someone who had vowed chastity to God made me feel queasy. I was glad, though, that I'd come to see Father Finnegan rather than one of the geriatric clergymen like Father Callahan. In all honesty, some of my nerves probably came from my hidden attraction to our church's newest priest.

When Father Finnegan delivered his first sermon a year ago, you could almost smell the collective musk permeating from the horny snatches of our female church-goers. Many of the women thought that the handsome 35-year-old might finally usher our conservative church into the 21st century. Instead, he wowed all the men when he roared a fiery diatribe on bringing back tradition. Soon after his appointment, women were no longer allowed to wear pants during mass. Small changes followed as his sermons focused myopically on the roles of men and women, of which he held a Victorian standards.

"So I tell you men: keep your women home! Keep them under your watchful eye. You are their head, as Christ is yours!"

The various patriarchs sitting in the pews would nod and huff in agreement while their ladies shivered and shook.

"Thank you, Father Finnegan," I replied back. I'm sure my anxiety was palpable, but his warm smile lowered my guard.

"Of course, my girl. It's not every day I get to be in the presence of such a beauty."

He put his right hand on my exposed thigh and I pulled back slightly, but he left it there. I couldn't scoot to the side since the bench was against the wall, so I was forced to endure his grip.

"So tell me, Gracie, what's on your mind?"

His hand was now rubbing up and down just above my knee and it was hard for me to think straight. I was terribly uncomfortable with his inappropriate behavior, but also noticed a warmth spreading from my nether regions. I could barely look into his piercing eyes as I tried to explain my predicament.

"Umm, Father... well... you know my stepdad, right?" It was a silly question since my stepdad worked part-time as a deacon.

"Of course, of course. Mr. O'Neill is very respectable gentleman; one of the finest in our ministry. Why, just last week at our Patriarch's Assembly I was telling the others that he's a great example of the Godly men we'd like to see in this church. So devout and unmoving, garnering so much authority; as a man should. So what did you want to tell me about him, girl?"

I didn't realize Father Finnegan held my stepdad in such high regard; this wasn't going to be easy.

"Well... since my mother's passing..."

"I'm so sorry about that, Gracie," Father consoled.

"Thank you... but... since she passed, well, my stepdad's been acting... differently around me..."

"Well how do you mean, girl?"

"He's been doing... weird things..."

"Are you accusing one of my ecclesiastical brethren of behaving with impropriety?"

Father Finnegan's hand hadn't stopped rubbing my smooth thigh, and he'd turned his body slightly so I was even more trapped. He switched the hand that was on my leg to my arm, and replaced that one with his left. I was seriously nervous now, scooching further and further into the corner with no escape.

"No... Ummm... since Mom died my stepdad's sort of been making me do what she used to do. At first it was just cleaning up around the house and cooking meals..."

"Well that makes sense, don't you think? Did you expect Mr. O'Neill to come home from work to a messy home and no food?"

"No... it's just-"

"It's just what, girl? A man like your stepdad will not be subjected to women's work! With your mother out of the house the onus is on you keep your father's home tidy, and his belly full. It's the least you can do for him for still keeping you around."

The grip around my thin arm and leg tightened and was getting painful. His gentle smile turned to a grimace and his thick beard made him look like a beast. I was also sort of hurt that he'd brought up my stepdad leaving, which I guess he had the right to do since my Mom died. I'm an adult, and I'm not his daughter; he doesn't owe me anything...

"I'm sorry, Father..."

"You should be, girl. Complaining about your duty as a woman when you're lucky enough to have a man like your stepfather take care of you. It's disgraceful!"

"But, Father! It's not just that!"

I quickly covered my mouth after, realizing that I'd now have to tell my darkest secret. Father Finnegan's grip lightened and he gave me another sympathetic look. It was exhausting trying to keep up with his mercurial swings.

"It's just that well... a few weeks after mom died, he started coming up to me around the house and getting really close. He'd walk behind me when I was washing dishes and just stand there. He didn't stop, and after a day or two he stood even closer. He'd push his back up against my body and trap me against the sink. I asked him what he was doing but he just told me to be quiet and keep working. He stood there huffing and breathing over me and it was so hard to concentrate..."

"Well what were you wearing, Gracie?" Father Finnegan interjected. I wasn't sure why that mattered.

"My stepdad always makes me wear my 'house skirt' when I'm home. It's just a little pink thing that doesn't cover much. He also makes me wear a tight white T shirt, and frilly apron when I'm cleaning up. He thinks I need to dress the part as his maid since I clean up his house..."

"Gracie, Gracie..." Father's was now holding one of my hands in both of his. "Now you know you're a beautiful woman, right?"

I nodded shyly.

"So when you're walking around your stepdad's house in a little skirt and shirt, are you really surprised that he's distracted by your body?"

"No, but... he makes me wear those clothes! He tells me you said that's what a girl should wear!"

"And he's right, Gracie, but that's besides the point. When your stepdad sees you standing at his sink like a harlot in your little skirt, are you really surprised that he gets excited? I mean, you're practically showing off for him, no, asking him to stand behind you. What man wouldn't keep his eyes all over your young, smooth flesh?"

His strong hands were back on my legs and he was slowly spreading them. I felt myself open and was too petrified to try to push them back together. I let him feel my inner thighs as my lacy panties moistened from his deepening massage.

"Oh, but Father Finnegan," I nearly gasped out. The stimulation was getting to me. "It's not just that! After he'd stood behind me for a few more days he started doing really bad things! He... he... he put his hands down to my skirt and lifted it... then started feeling all around my bum!"

Father Finnegan hissed when I said this. My brain was still short-circuiting from the current assault, and I was glad to be on the bench so he wouldn't have access to this body part, as well.

"Do you blame him, dear? I can only imagine the pert little cheeks under those tiny pleats," he drooled.

"But! But! Once he'd touched my bum for a minute, he started to slip his finger... inside of me..." I started crying when I recalled this event to Father Finnegan.

///

My stepdad was holding me from behind at the sink and had pushed aside my panties. His fingers were rubbing all along my vagina. I knew it was sinful to touch there so I couldn't understand why Daddy was doing it. I also didn't understand why it felt so good! His circling fingers made my pussy simmer, similar to how it felt when I looked at men like Father Finnegan... and to be honest, my Daddy.

I thought my stepdad was handsome, so when he started giving me more attention after mom's death I actually liked it at first. It wasn't until he started copping feels that I realized his true motives.

"You're so pretty, Gracie. So much like your momma," he whispered with his middle finger lodged inside me.

I froze up and kept washing the plate I had in my hand. I couldn't reply but he didn't mind, he just kept fingering me.

"So pretty... and such a good girl. You like listening to me, huh, Gracie? You like doing your chores for me like a good girl?"

I nodded slowly, not wanting to upset him by giving the wrong answer. I'm not sure if it was correct, but either way he started sliding a second finger in me and I was up on my toes. My legs were shaking and it was difficult to discern if this was pleasureful or not.

"I know you do, my girl. I know how much you love me."

I heard something unzip and tried to turn around but Daddy kept me facing forward. He slowly started bending me over the sink then flipped my skirt up. I soon felt my panties being ripped down and I screamed, but Daddy quickly covered my mouth.

"No talking now, baby. Daddy's just gonna take what's his, then you can get back to your cleaning. Okay?"

I nodded again because there was nothing else I could do, then a large, round object pressed up against me. I wasn't stupid and knew what was about to happen. I was about to have my virginity stolen by my own Stepfather and there was nothing I could do to stop him. He pushed us both forward and my taut tummy squished against the counter. The head of his cock was slowly making its way into my hole, and the copious juices I'd trickled out during his foreplay made the task very easy.

"So much tighter than your Momma," he sighed while pushing in a little more.

"MMRRRPPPHH!" I squealed into his hand as my walls stretched open, but I knew it was futile. He wasn't going to stop.

He kept going until he no longer had to assist his cock, then moved that hand around my waist. He was holding me from behind and as he lifted me up I involuntarily slid further down his dick.

"Your Daddy's a real man, sweetheart, and he's got a real man's cock. You're gonna be taking this thing to the hilt and I don't want to hear any complaints. Okay?"

I nodded fearfully again as he looked into my eyes before slamming his cock all the way in. I felt immense fullness as his pubes scratched my smooth bum and tried to squirm away but the countertop blocked me. He pulled out entirely then slammed back home.

"AAAHHHH!" I yelped into his hand but Daddy squeezed my face and told me to shut up.

"I said no talking, girl!"

He gave me a particularly deep hump as punishment then went back to his brutal rhythm. I was trying so hard not to make any noise but the pain from his dick slamming in and out was a lot. As I lay there dumbly with nothing to do, I realized that some of the initial pain had morphed into pleasure, and the slick impaling felt better each time he did it. He moved his hand from my waist down to my pussy and felt around under the skirt.

"I knew you liked this you little whore! Look at how wet you are for your Daddy!"

He sloshed and slid his fingers through my soaking kitty and I was mortified at its drenched state. Why was I getting turned on??

"No! No! I don't!" I tried to get out but Daddy was still covering my mouth.

He laughed back, "you can pretend all you want, girl, but that pussy doesn't lie. I know you like this."

He grabbed my hands from the sink and I broke the plate in the process; I still hadn't let it go. He held my wrists behind my back with one hand and started smacking my ass with the other. It was painful and humiliating.

"You little whore... my little whore..." he grumbled and puffed while slamming in and out.

Daddy stopped spanking and placed his fingertips at the top of my vagina on the little bud. I'd touched this part a few times before, but the pleasure it brought was far too much for me to handle then. When Daddy did it mid-coitus I just about burst right there. I started screaming and yelling but Daddy just laughed and kept spanking my ass telling me what a good bitch I was. He drove his cock in one last time and it made me break down in my first orgasm. I undulated in his arms while he burst his warm semen inside me.

Daddy lay on me for a moment after, then pulled out and shoved his cock back in his pants. He zipped up and I was still bent over the sink. I was in shock but needed to say something.

"But... but... Daddy...!" I cried out, still unable to turn and face him. "You took my virginity... now I can't give it to my husband!"

I had saved my virginity for 20 years so that I could give it to a man I loved, and now my bastard Stepfather had just stolen from me.

"Ha!" He laughed. "You've been cooking and cleaning for me since your Momma died. I am your Husband, woman, so get used to it. Now clean up this kitchen, and don't even think about leaving til it's spotless!"

He spanked my ass one more time then left. I stay bent over the sink with my skirt flipped up, bum cheeks splattered with red hand prints, pussy sore from forced sex, and mind in tatters from the guilt of not totally hating the experience. Of course I'd wished it was consensual, and probably that it wasn't my stepdad, but I really was attracted to him, and his body made mine feel so good. He was so huge over me and I felt a primal submission under him. I wanted to yield to him. All of these emotions made it hard to clean, but I didn't dare upset Daddy after that; who knew what else he would do.

I tidied the kitchen then went to clean myself up. I slinked upstairs to the bathroom so Daddy wouldn't see me and assessed the damage. My tits had some small bruises from where he'd squeezed them through my shirt during the assault, but the real damage was to my butt. Hand prints were painted across, and it embarrassed me so much that his marks were still on my skin. I felt like he owned me.

I looked down to my thighs and noticed dried fluids sticking to them. I saw a few spots of blood but it was nothing to worry about; probably just from my hymen. Which reminded me that I was no longer a virgin... I cried quietly again while thinking about my lost innocence. I also thought about Daddy saying he's my 'husband'. I didn't understand why he said that, we're not married! But he's right, I do his chores for him like a wife, and he just fucked me like a wife, too. Maybe it's like we are married... Would I want that...?

I tried falling asleep but it was impossible. I kept replaying the events in my mind, and for some reason I got hornier as I did it. I thought about myself bent over and helpless for my Daddy, him using me how he pleased and spanking my ass to mark me, and got wetter and wetter. I moaned as I slid my hand down to my panties.

"Mmmmmm," I let out as I once again touched that nub.

I nervously continued rubbing with the fear that God was watching me on the front of my mind. I figured I'd already been deflowered, though, so I decided to try sinning for a change. I ran my fingers over my lips to take note of any pain. Surprisingly it actually felt fine. In fact, as I rubbed more it started to get wet, like when Daddy did it. I mimicked him and sent one finger then another inside, dipping them in and out to coax more fluids. I was getting close to that bubbling feeling again and was trying to get there when I heard my door creak open. I quickly pulled my hands out of my panties and pretended to be asleep.

I peeked an eye open and saw Daddy standing over me in just his boxers. I was in my nightie and panties and felt extremely exposed. He started getting into bed then pulled me back into his huge, hairy body.

"I love the feeling of a silky nightdress," he whispered while cupping one of my breasts and slipping his other hand under my crotch.

"Daddy... no..." I pleaded lightly.

This angered him and he grabbed my tit and pussy hard. "You don't say no to me, woman! You're my wife now, and wives have duties! So quiet down and let Daddy take you. Besides, I can see you were thinking about me," he chuckled as he felt my wetness.

He covered my mouth again and sodomized me while spooning. I realized he was trying to get me slick so his dick would slide in easily, and I was actually grateful for this. I was disgusted with myself for thanking this man in my head when he was about to abuse me, yet I still felt that way.

"You like Daddy's hands, don't you, baby? You just get so wet for me, little girl. Just soaking. Tell me how much you like me, baby."

His probing fingers were still up to no good and I found myself moaning and groaning against him. I was even rubbing back on his crotch like a slut! This really did feel good!

"Umm... yes..." I whispered.

Daddy didn't make me say more but we both knew I was starting to like it. I once again felt that rounded knob pushing up against me while Daddy pulled my leg up to give him better access. He slipped the tip in then covered my mouth again, and at this point I was used to him having his hand there. I accidentally kissed it once.

He pulled me back onto him and impaled fully in one thrust. I cried out but he didn't stop until pussy juice was gushing out of me. He brought me to another orgasm, but this time didn't stop fucking. I squealed and tried to get away but he continued until I found myself back in that blissful state. When he sent his last humps I somehow came again while wrapped around his rod. How did this man make my body feel so good?!!

"After a man gives his woman what she needs, she thanks him." Daddy said sternly before he pulled out.

"Thank you..."

It nearly made me cry to say it, thanking the man who'd just raped me twice, but I knew I didn't have a choice. He held my leg up for a while, tweaking my pink nipples and fingering my sore pussy. I wasn't sure why he hadn't left yet, but he whispered something about making sure his 'seed' stayed deep inside me...

When he finally exited I got up to rinse. I peed, then even tried to push some of his semen out with my vaginal muscles. He had lodged himself so deep inside, though, and kept my leg up for so long that it seemed to have all absorbed into me. I hadn't thought about it until now, but I was terrified of getting pregnant.

The next morning I limped down to cook Daddy's breakfast. He'd been making me get up at 6AM so he could have a full meal before work, and I never dared complain. I was at the counter in my nightie buttering his toast when I heard him lumbering down the stairs. I panicked and dropped the knife, sending butter across the counter. This made me panic even more because Daddy hated a messy kitchen. I quickly tried cleaning up it with a sponge when I felt two hands on top of mine, and a bear behind me.

"Morning, Gracie, you up early to make Daddy's breakfast?"

I nodded as he took one of his hands and slid it up my nightie. A gasp came out but I knew better than to make noise, so I stood still as I waited to be filled again. To my dismay, my pussy had started to wet itself the second I heard Daddy walking down the stairs; by now it was dripping. He slipped the head of his cock up and down my tight slit before easing it back inside me for the 3rd time in 12 hours. I wasn't sure I could handle anymore.