For I Have Sinned

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been...a long time since my last confession."

"Be specific, my child. How long has it been?"

Theresa glanced away for a moment, furrowing her brows.

"My last confession was maybe...a week before my eighteenth birthday. So...a few months ago."

James nodded in understanding.

"And what sins do you have to confess?"

"Well...I've taken the Lord's name in vain. A lot, actually. I've disrespected my parents and siblings. I've...lied to some people. Nothing big, just little lies, but they're lies anyway."

He nodded again, this time encouragingly.

"Uh...I've also been mean to people, and unkind, and uncharitable. Didn't share things I should've or could've shared. Talked behind people's backs. Gossiping a little bit, stuff like that. I try not to but it's super easy sometimes."

He stroked his chin contemplatively. After a deep breath, she pressed on.

"Um...I've had some...impure thoughts, you know, about boys, about doing things with them..."

Those confessions provoked embarrassment. A heat crept up her neck, accompanied by a slight blush. She started to squirm, her mind moving to those thoughts she had just confessed to. Across the desk, his eyes flickered from her face to her legs. Her own peek down showed her skirt riding up, showing off more of her thighs, the pale flesh available for ogling. When she looked back up, he had managed to do the same, their gazes meeting, both aware of what he had been looking at but neither deigning to acknowledge it.

"Any more sins to confess?" he managed to ask.

She bit her lip, the heat reaching her cheeks, the blush deepening.

"I've...touched myself. Often. Is...is that a sin?"

His eyes did not move from hers. She forced herself to keep up her gaze as well.

"That would depend. On the context."

"Context?"

He nodded.

"It would depend on why you were touching yourself, perhaps where you were when you did. What you were thinking about. Had you been thinking, for example, about a married man, that would be a sin. Coveting a neighbor's spouse."

She bit her lip again, the blush by now reigning over her face.

"What about if I had been thinking about a priest?"

His eyes widened but he recovered quickly.

"That could be considered a sin. Although it would depend further on if you have plans to act on the thought."

She shifted in the chair, her thighs rubbing together, arousal following the blush.

"Any more sins to confess?"

She thought for a second, and then shook her head.

"No, Father."

"Very well then. For your penance, say seven 'Hail Mary's, seven 'Our Father's, and six 'Glory Be's. Twenty prayers in all."

"And...is that all?"

He leaned back in his chair, keeping his eyes on her, those dark brown orbs difficult to read.

"That depends as well."

His eyes flickered once again to her legs. She found herself wanting to spread them just a little, to reward that daring. But she did not, only blushing a bit hotter, more arousal surfacing amid the heat.

"On what?"

His eyes returned to hers, a certain strange interest appearing in them.

"Are you truly sorry for what you've confessed?"

She frowned.

"I am."

"Remember now: confession only works if you're truly sorry. If you hope, and will try, to not repeat the same sin."

"I am, I'm truly sorry."

His eyes did not leave hers. A steeliness joined the strange interest.

"Sometimes we confess sins we're not truly sorry for, because we think the act of confessing is what cleanses us. It's not. Only by the grace of God can we be cleansed."

She nodded.

"And some people confess sins but in their hearts accept that they will commit those same sins soon."

She nodded again.

"For example, sins of lust are often confessed, but then committed again. You just confessed to having impure thoughts about a priest. Of course, they might arise unbidden, or you might choose to summon them. If it's the latter...do you imagine you will do so again anytime soon?"

The arousal spread steadily, her body aflame. She swallowed nervously.

"I...don't know."

His eyes narrowed.

"If you're not able to answer more confidently, then perhaps you weren't truly sorry to begin with."

"I am, Father, I'm sorry, I swear it."

He did not answer, only looking back at her, eyes still narrowed.

A brief silence fell in his office, the uncertainty of the moment making her squirm more.

And then a dangerous gleam arose in his eyes.

"Perhaps in this case...more is required than penitential prayers."

She frowned, still uncertain of his intentions. The blush on her face refused to calm.

"Come here," the priest said firmly, beckoning her over with a crooked finger.

She stood, immediately conscious of his eyes flickering to her legs as her skirt rustled to her movements. His eyes returned to her face, but took their time moseying along her figure, adding to her arousal. She padded around the desk, stopping next to his chair. A small smile tugged at his mouth. He eased his chair back and gestured for her to step into the space between it and the desk.

When she slipped into that space, facing away from him, she heard the chair slide back further. Footsteps clicked on the floor, and then he sidled up next to her. His eyes were on her again. She shuddered at the way he studied her, those dark brown orbs boring perceptively into her.

"I've come to learn," he began, speaking softer now, almost seductively, "that not every member of my flock is the same. What works for one might not for another. It's an important lesson for any priest to learn. This, I believe, is one of those cases. Given what you've told me, something special might be in order to make sure you truly repent."

She bit her lip.

"Like what?"

He nodded to the desk.

"Bend over."

Her eyes widened.

"But, Father..."

"Sometimes strange measures are required for the truly obscene among us, my child. Now...bend over."

The last two words jettisoned the softer, gentler tones of the rest of the sentences, displaying a stern sharpness that did not brook even the slightest defiance. She bent over quickly, feeling her arousal mount higher as her skirt rode up, showing off more of her thighs. Her cheek came to rest on the wood of the desk, that coolness contrasting with the heat overwhelming her body. She let her arms stretch out, her fingers curling around the forward edge of the desk.

A hand landed on the small of her back.

"Good girl."

She cooed at the praise despite her embarrassment and uncertainty.

Another hand began to tug her skirt up.

"Wait!" she squealed, jerking in surprise. "What're you doing?"

The hand on the small of her back pressed down pointedly.

"I think it's better to take an alternative tack with you. Trust me."

She shook her head but otherwise stayed still. Her arousal increased dangerously as her skirt was tugged up further, revealing not just the pale swathes of her upper thighs, but also her panties, the red fabric the only defense between her swiftly slickening sex and his attention.

"This doesn't seem very...priestly."

He did not answer. Although she could not see him, she was aware of his gaze on her, specifically on her ass, the pert cheeks on display.

"Twenty prayers," he said simply.

She nodded, a shudder washing over her.

"And twenty spanks."

She mewled, a stronger shudder following.

"Twenty?"

"Yes. Twenty."

She did not move, keeping herself bent over before him, trembling at the promise of oncoming punishment.

"Count them out."

His voice had switched again from soft to firm.

"Yes, Father."

There was silence behind her for a few seconds.

The first smack landed hard, echoing loudly in the quiet office.

Her squeal bled into a word.

"One!"

His other hand stroked at the small of her back, providing a soothing counterpoint to the sudden burn.

The second smack came just as hard, striking the other cheek.

"Two!"

Three more followed in quick succession, her squeals counting them out. The other hand rubbed in circles. The last squeal trailed into a sob, the burn at her ass adding to the misery in that sound.

"Good girl," he praised her again, squeezing her ass.

Her thighs rubbed together, wetness gathered between them. She peered over her shoulder, and moaned at his gaze, those dark eyes staring at her ass, admiring its lush plumpness. His hand was up in the air, waiting to strike.

It descended swiftly.

"Six!"

Three more strikes landed, his rhythm keeping her off balance. Her voice rang out in his office, unsteadily keeping count, filled with a mix of pain and pleasure. She squirmed, setting her ass cheeks to a light jiggling she knew he had his eyes on, more wetness slicking her sex.

The tenth strike slapped down.

"Ten!"

Her cry bled into a whine, and she bucked mindlessly.

"Good girl," he murmured, rubbing over her ass and lower back, his other hand underneath her blouse, directly on her skin.

A brief silence fell in the office. Her squirming continued under his watchful gaze.

"Halfway there."

She nodded meekly, peeking over her shoulder again. His eyes met hers, a brow quirking up as if expecting her to speak.

"Does it hurt?" he asked instead.

She nodded again, the burn a delightful throb.

"I can take it."

He nodded back in approval. His hands continued to rub and caress.

She rested her cheek on the cool wood, stretching out to grab the far edge of the desk. A shiver of anticipation ran along her.

The anticipation lasted a few long seconds.

A quick spank came, slapping down onto her ass.

"Eleven," she moaned, her hips grinding into the desk, mindlessly seeking stimulation.

More seconds ticked by, adding anticipation to the building agony.

A harder, sharper spank followed.

"Twelve!"

"Stay still," he scolded, squeezing after the spank.

"Yes, Father, I'm sorry..."

Three more spanks followed, with varying times in between them, keeping her off-balance. She yelped in between counting them out. Her ass cheeks burned, both taking their fair share of the punishment. Her wetness was merciless between her thighs.

Two more spanks came sharply, one on each cheek. Her voice rang out again, tinged with discomfort, evidencing the building burn.

"Good girl," he encouraged, squeezing and stroking at her body, soothing that burn.

She moaned mindlessly at the praise, at the assertive yet tender treatment, at the arousal gripping her.

"Almost done."

She nodded, forcing herself to stay still, remaining vulnerable for the final strikes.

The next two were harder, drawing yelps from her before she was able to calm herself enough to keep count. Another mindless moan spilled out, her skin throbbing even as her sex twitched with need.

The final strike came hard again, his palm slapping down harshly.

"Twenty!" she shrieked, her voice strained.

She trembled on the desk, her ass cheeks hot from the repeated strikes, her panties damp from the delight. His hands rubbed carefully. A peek over her shoulder showed his eyes fixed on her ass.

"Is -- is that all, Father?" she asked.

His hand dipped between her thighs, making her buck in surprise.

"You're wet," he commented, his voice again soft and seductive.

"I...can't help it."

"It's alright, my child."

His hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it.

"What're you doing?" she asked, swallowing nervously.

"As I said earlier...sometimes strange measures are required for the truly obscene."

"Am I...am I truly obscene?"

He nodded.

"It's alright. Just relax. I'm here to guide you and help you."

She nodded back and rested her head against the cool wood again.

Her squirming started back up when he dragged her panties down. The red fabric pooled around her ankles, and she stepped out of them, the movement adding to the burn ruling her ass. Along with it came the blazing arousal, hiked higher with the slick petals of her sex bared to his gaze.

A hard heat nudged against them, drawing a gasp from her.

"Father..."

A hand settled on her lower back, caressing idly.

"It's alright, don't worry..."

A push sent that hard heat inside her. She moaned, her voice quieter now but no less lewd. Her sex clutched restlessly, welcoming the invasion, craving more. Her moan was followed by his growl, a sound that sent shivers down her spine.

The push continued, his cock slipping deeper inside her, meeting the generous flow of her juices. She bit her lip, her body opening up to his advances, the heightened arousal translating quickly into pleasure. Her nipples were stiff inside her bra, her blouse rustling against the desk from her squirming.

He paused, halfway inside her. Another peek over her shoulder showed his head canted back, eyes closed.

"Does it feel good?" she asked innocently.

"Yes," came his simple, strained response. "Very good."

She rested her cheek on the desk, purring at his reply.

The push resumed, sending more inches inside her. The burn at her ass cheeks was ever-present, but the pleasure began to overshadow it, the decadent sensation of his cock pushing deeper providing the perfect counterpoint.

Inch after inch slotted through her slit, a gradual, steady advance. She did her best to stay still to leave herself vulnerable to that advance. His hands moved now, both to her hips, taking hold there, the slight press of his fingers into her skin another decadent sensation.

Soon, he was fully sheathed inside her. A strong throb ran along the length of his cock.

Another pause followed. Silence reigned in his office, broken only by his heavy breaths and her soft purrs. The pleasure rose higher.

One of his hands moved again, stealing under her blouse, trailing along her belly, finding her bra-clad breasts. A firm grope at them drew another purr from her.

His hips drew back, his cock sliding through her channel, the confines reacting with a desperate need. The increasing emptiness turned her next purr into a whimper. The burning at her ass cheeks throbbed still but was squarely overshadowed by the pleasure.

"It feels good for me too," she spoke up meekly.

The remaining hand on her hip left it to deliver stinging swats to one cheek and then the other. She squealed in surprise, the throbbing flaring back to prominence, her channel clutching around the first inch of him.

Two more spanks came, making her squeal again, and then he thrust hard, rudely filling her up. The impact jostled her, rocking the desk, knocking over a few items.

"Father!"

Her cry was met with more spanks. She whimpered again, the thrill of such treatment swirling with the rush from the naughtiness of the taboo situation.

His cock drew back, and shoved forward, plunging into her slick depths.

"Father..."

"Does it hurt, my child?" he asked gruffly, the hand at her breasts squeezing.

"N-no, Father..."

A trio of spanks landed, turning the answer into a string of yelps.

"This is meant to be punishment, not pleasure."

"Yes, Father, I'm sorry..."

She peeked over her shoulder again, catching the desire written across his face. The ever-present blush kept her skin flushed, along with the burn at her ass. Her cheek returned to the cool wood.

A few more thrusts stirred up more juices. She fought the urge to grind back onto them, letting him pump away.

"Good girl," he murmured, acknowledging that effort, adding another grope at her breasts.

The next thrusts were stronger and more forceful, juddering her. She tightened her grip on the far edge of the desk. His hands continued to grope. He groaned loudly, audibly savoring the sensation of her channel stretching out around him. More thrusts pumped steadily into her, the desk rocking slightly.

"Thank you," she spoke up, her voice halting, broken up by his vigorous rhythm. "For teaching me...how to be a good girl."

Another trio of spanks landed. She squealed, her hips bucking at each strike, her channel following with needy spasms. The thrusts did not stop for the spanks, the combination sending her pleasure higher. Her upper body rested on the desk, her lower half trembling, knees shaking, feet unsteady on their tiptoes, toes curling inside her flats.

"Thank you," she repeated, feeling the pleasure approach a peak.

He grunted wordlessly, pumping away, leaving her moaning in ragged gasps. The hand at her breasts took another liberty, slipping inside her bra to squeeze a pert swell, the skin-on-skin contact an undeniable delight. Her stiff nipple sang against his palm.

A sharp spank landed just before she reached that peak. She yelped in surprise, the spark of pain briefly warding off the orgasm. The thrusts did not stop, pushing her finally to that climactic moment. Her channel spasmed, driven by the rush of ecstasy, soaking his length in yet more juices.

The spasms pushed him in turn into his own orgasm. He swore through gritted teeth, giving her a few harder pumps. The desk shook, items clattering to the floor. She held on tight, trapped between the desk and his lust. His hand squeezed at her breast, and then he drove deep, holding himself steady, fully sheathed inside her.

Warm bursts fired out, bathing her channel, sending lewd shivers over her. She squirmed on the desk, luxuriating in the ecstasy and the way his hands gripped and groped at her. His body was right on hers, that proximity another delight. He leaned over to kiss at her neck, his cock still erupting, the final spurts finishing the job of filling her thoroughly.

The couple came down from the ecstasy together, breathing heavily.

He moved first, easing off her, slipping out. His arms wrapped around her, bringing her backwards along with him. She purred, letting him ease her onto his lap as he sat down. Aches throbbed at her ass cheeks, making her perch somewhat uncomfortable, but she did not mind, resting her head on his shoulder. His hands settled on her thighs.

"Was that a sin?" she spoke up soon.

He made a thoughtful sound before answering.

"Some might say it is."

"But what do you say? You used to be a priest, after all."

"That doesn't necessarily make me an expert on sin."

She twisted around slightly to fix him with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm curious. Like, what would the Pope say?"

"Probably something in Spanish."

"I'm serious!" she told him, unable to stop herself from giggling.

"I know, I know," he said, kissing her shoulder.

"So? Is it a sin?"

He frowned.

"Well, the Pope and plenty of other people would say yes, it's a sin, because fantasizing about a sin is a sin in itself. And a priest spanking and having sex with a parishioner is definitely a sin."

"I know it's a sin for me to fantasize about a priest, but we're married. Plus, no one's going to know what we did and no one's going to be hurt."

He shrugged.

"Sins don't have to hurt other people to be sinful."

"True. And I guess me being on birth control is a sin too, come to think of it."

He nodded.

"And what do you think?" she continued.

"I thought you wanted to know what the Pope would say."

"Yeah, but I'm curious what you personally think. Do you see it as a sin?"

He paused, adopting a thoughtful look.

"I don't. Because like you said, it's something between us. You're not about to go out and actually have sex with a priest."

"Right. We know the fantasy would be wrong in real life."

"Exactly."

"It didn't feel like a sin."

He shrugged again.

"Many sins don't."

"Yeah, but I used to feel guilty after I'd fantasize about Father Mahoney. I don't feel guilty now."

"Not all sins are created equal. Murder, for an extreme example, is worse than your teenaged fantasies about a parish priest. And one could argue that those fantasies are worse than what we just did."

"Did it feel like a sin to you?"