Confession, The First

Copyright 2021. All characters and religious institutions are fictional. All characters are over 18. Any resemblance to persons living or dead are coincidental.

After good but not stellar grades in high school, and two years of excellent grades in the community college back home, Eugenie had finally made it to The School of Design. Daddy had wanted her to stay in state, and look at Kent State or Cincinnati. The University of Southern California was out of the question, but when she got accepted to the oldest school of design, one of the most prestigious in the United States, Daddy couldn't tell her no, even though mom had groused about the distance and the cost.

Eugenie fell in love with Providence, Rhode Island immediately. The smell of salt air and the sound of seagulls was a world apart from the smell of fertilizer and the sound of crows back home. But she was still adjusting to the big, East coast town. She missed being the daughter of one of the most important and successful men in the country, and being able to get away with anything. Back home, she was well known for being a good, church going girl, daughter of a county judge and lay reader in their church. She was also known for giving amazing blowjobs, but no one who had the pleasure would ever talk about it after one guy did and was suspended from school for "spreading lies" about a good, church going girl whose family was so influential.

Eugenie loved the power giving head gave her over men. She relished being able to do things other girls could never get away with. The act itself was okay, no big deal. Having a man's penis in her mouth didn't do much for her. Hearing a guy's moans, and his begging for her to keep going, her ability to control what he got out of it was a lot sexier to her. When she was done, the salty, musky taste in her mouth kept that sense of power fresh in her mind when she went home and brought herself off.

Her real thrill was going to confession after sucking a young man's cock and describing for her confessor exactly what she did and how it made her feel. Her penances were getting harsher, but half the time she forgot them the moment she left confessional as she rushed home to stroke her pearl until she squeaked and trembled in climax. Every time her confessor blushed, she got that fluttery feeling behind her mons. Before she left for Providence, it had gotten to the point where he couldn't look her in the eye despite her warmly greeting him every Sunday before her father read the Gospel during the service. And his embarrassment made her wet.

Providence was a beautiful old town, but a little spooky. H.P. Lovecraft spent most of his life here, and his horror stories had been Eugenie's favorites growing up. Walking on streets Lovecraft had mentioned in his stories gave her a thrill, and inspired her to fantasize about Cthulhu and other nightmare creatures ravishing her. She would rub her clit to visions of ghouls taking her from behind, and work her fingers into her pussy imagining they were the tentacles of nameless horrors from strange dimensions. But she missed tormenting her confessor, and the powerful releases she would give herself after her detailed confessions.

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Father Alphonse, who always asked to be called "Father Al", loved his parishioners and his church. The Church of The Morning Star had stood in Providence since the late eighteenth century. It was one of the smallest churches in Providence with a modest steeple, topped with a stubby cross that was more like a plus sign than a traditional Christian cross. Father Al always declared that his congregation upheld their tradition of being the most passionate and happiest church goers in the town. When outsiders visited the church, Father Al would always go out of his way to accommodate their spiritual and temporal needs as best he could. When asked why he does so much for non-believers, he would smile knowingly and say "Our Lord bids us to emulate him, and be light bringers in the world."

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It was a dark and stormy New England autumn evening. Eugenie had debauched herself using her talent for fellatio several times through the week. While she had earned the slavish devotion of a number of grateful first year guys from the Ivy League school near The School of Design, she was aching for the release that came after her lascivious confessions. She was walking through the older part of Providence, a side street on Federal Hill, and noticed an ancient but well maintained little church that hadn't caught her eye before. On the sign out front, it declared itself to be "The Church of the Morning Star" and the name was flanked by a sort of cross she hadn't seen before; a "heavy cross" like a simple plus sign on top of an equilateral triangle. The cross was as tall as it was wide, and the triangle under it was about the same height.

A light was on in what looked like an office off the chapel, so Eugenie went in, in hopes of finding a new confessor. The nave and apse were dimly lit, but shone with polished copper instead of the gold or brass she was used to. The walls were a deep scarlet, and there was something not quite right about the designs in the stained glass windows. As she was taking it all in, a figure appeared at the door of the office with a light on. A tall slim man, with a halo from the light behind him, said "Good evening, young lady! Welcome to the Church of the Fallen- The Morning Star! We aren't holding services tonight-"

Eugenie cut him off. In her most contrite and humble voice she said "Father, please, I wish to confess my sins."

"Well, we don't usually practice confession, but-"

"Father," she pleaded, "I would feel so much better if you took my confession. It would do so much to lighten my burden of guilt."

At the word "lighten", he became attentive. "Well, my dear, I am Father Alphonse, but please, call me Father Al. And bringing light into the world is our purpose. If taking your confession will help-"

"Oh, it will, Father Al, it will."

Father Al ushered her through the sacristy, into his office, closed the door and curtains and gestured to two chairs in a corner. "What is your name, my child?"

"Eugenie, sir."

Once they sat, Father Al invited Eugenie to share a moment of silent reflection on the meaning of penance and confession before they began.

Looking at Father Al, she decided she had come to the right church. He was tall, six feet or so, and slim, with a calm, kind, clean shaven face, and a full head of sandy hair shot with grey. He was wearing one of those clerical shirts with the little square at the collar, but it was an iridescent crimson. Eugenie was a little confused as this wasn't like the little booth at the church in her hometown, and Father Al wasn't following the ritual she was accustomed to, but she was here, and he was a lot more attractive than her confessor back in Ohio.

"Now Eugenie, what sins darken your soul?"

Said like that, it was a little more intimidating than the confession she was used to, but she began. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been seven weeks since my last confession. I love playing the slut, Father." She looked at her hands in her lap, letting herself get into the role of the contrite and ashamed little slut.

"Go on, Eugenie. What do you do when you play the slut?"

"I like to suck cock. I have sucked three cocks since my last confession."

"Is that your only sin, my daughter?"

"I touch myself, Father. I think of my confessor, and put my hand between my thighs, and I play with my pussy while I think of him. I touch myself after sucking cock, too." Eugenie felt that tingle deep in her tummy, and shifted in her seat as she started to feel moist down there.

Father Al sat calmly, listening to Eugenie, but he could feel his manhood swelling as he listened to her confess her sins. He could also see in the tilt of her head, and the hasty glances at him, that she was enjoying herself as she shared her sexual adventures. He understood the attraction of the forbidden, and decided not to completely enlighten her just yet, but allow her this fantasy. It would bring light into both their lives, as the Lord bids us too.

"Go on, Eugenie."

"I suck the boys' cocks, and make them promise not to tell anyone if they want me to see them again. I take the tip of their cocks in my mouth and lick the underside of their hard-on while jerking them off. Hearing them moan while their cock is in my mouth."

"Yes, please continue."

"And when they cum, I kiss them, and smear their cum on their faces, and tell them they have to do as I tell them if they want their dick sucked again. Then, I go home and bring myself off."

"Show me these sins you have committed, my child."

Eugenie was horny and into the moment enough that she didn't really think as she knelt in front of Father Al and started fumbling with his belt and trousers. Father Al admired her passion and desire to respect her confessor. He stroked her hair as she kissed the tip of his scepter when it came into her view. "The Spirit of the Divine is between my legs, Eugenie. Praise it. Adore it."

Eugenie whispered "Oh yes, Father! I want to taste the Spirit of the Divine!" His cock was long, slim, and rock hard with a bulbous head and a tiny crystalline droplet of his excitement leaked from the tip. She lowered her mouth to his erection, as his hand stroked her hair and made her feel safe and cherished. It was a bit weird for her that the guy whose dick she was sucking was so gentle and calm as she began to apply herself to pleasuring him.

Father Al relaxed and reveled in Eugenie's tender ministrations. His cock throbbed as she took the head of it in her mouth and began to slowly milk his shaft with her hand. Her tongue was finding his most sensitive spots as he caressed her hair. "That's it, little one, taste the clear fluid of His blessings. Lick, and do not waste any."

"Oh yes, Father," she murmured around his engorged shaft. "I want his blessings in me."

"Use your hand on the Spirit, and cup the divine sac, my child. The most devout praise is rewarded by the Spirit spilling its blessings."

"I want to suck your balls too, Father. One at a time while I stroke your taint and ass."

Father Al moaned as Eugenie's fingers touched him, and her tongue flicked the tip of his rod. Eugenie shivered in sympathy with his body's responses and felt her thong get wet. She squeezed her thighs together in an effort to stimulate her cunny. She could feel her clit swelling and tingling with this meager pressure.

"You may reach between your thighs and touch the divine pearl while you worship the Spirit, you sinful girl." There were catches in Father Al's breath as he urged Eugenie on. "The louder your praise, the more your sacred juices flow, the greater your divine reward."

Eugenie relinquished Father Al's flesh aspergillum and trembled as she unzipped her jeans, worked them down below her knees and kicked them off one ankle. She moaned in frustration and desire. Kneeling again with her knees spread, she pulled the crotch of her thong to one side of her vulva and stroked her swollen, throbbing clit. With her other hand, she went back to stroking his cock, and her lips caught the clear droplet of divine blessing that leaked from Father Al's hard-on.

"If you are truly worthy, the Spirit will release its pearly essence for you," he gasped. His balls tightened, and he could feel his thighs tense as his climax approached. Eugenie was trembling and gasping around his cock as her orgasm hit her. "The Spirit is close to granting you its essence, my child. Take the Spirit in your mouth, and treasure its essence."

Eugenie squealed in pleasure, and as she twitched, Father Al came. A torrent of his sperm filling her mouth. She panted around his throbbing cock and tried to swallow his hot, salty load. She collapsed, leaning against his knees and gently massaging his cock as it softened.

"Your devotion and reverence is commendable, my child. The essence of the Spirit flows freely, and Lucifer welcomes your prayers and will reward your holy passion."

Father Al sat back, legs straight out, eyes closed as he caught his breath after an amazing blowjob. Eugenie, however, took a moment to grasp what he just said. It hit her. She froze for a second as the meaning of what Father Al had said dawned on her. As she panicked, struggling to get her jeans back on and grab her shoes, she was stumbling for the door.

"Oh Sweet Jesus! I came in the wrong church!"

As she fled into the street, Father Al pulled on his trousers and followed her to the door. "Wait," he called after her. "Where are you going? I was going to make espresso."

That was a lot of fun to write. I may have over-researched this one a bit. There are Easter eggs in here for the readers. If you have not read H.P. Lovecraft's body of work, it has been an inspiration for most American horror writers since the 1930s. I am not defending or condoning the controversial aspects of Lovecraft and his works, but his vision and influence are undeniable.

There is definitely space for a sequel or two here.