The Priest's Daughter

The Priest's Daughter

Hello everyone, this is Author K here, I know I haven't been posting much but I have been planning on making some of the stories I have posted as chapters into one book I can publish here. I have two books planned BUT in the meantime I wanted to give you guys something. A special thanks to PrestigeOctopus, they took their time to go over my book to edit it and I am very happy with this small project.

There are some TW: maybe missed grammar, we are only two people and Microsoft docs can only do so much so there is your one and only warning. Obviously if church is a sensitive topic to you, probably don't read this. There is a bit of defiling(I promise it's not gross), overstimulation, anal, and spanking. These are the warnings, without further ado, I present, The Priest's Daughter.-K

Stay tuned for updates regarding my other books, I post updates on my page.

Saturday

Renee

I stood frozen at the steps of the cathedral in hesitation. How long has it been since I have been here? The last time I walked through those doors was the weekend before I left for college. I was eighteen, young, naïve, sheltered by my father and the church.

Nine years. That's how long it's been since I stepped foot in a church, let alone back in my hometown. I gripped my purse, staring at the doors before making my way up the steps. I touched the door before pulling away. It opened, and a man glanced at me as he headed out. "Want me to hold the door for you?" He asked, I stared at him for a moment before shaking my head. "No, but thanks." I faked a smile, and he nodded, closing the door before leaving. I watched him walk away and turn back at the door, taking a deep breath.

I walked back down the steps and headed to the nearest motel, where I spent most of my money to stay for a week. After inspecting the room for any bed bugs or other unpleasant surprises, I dropped the bag that held all my possessions. I sat down on the bed and buried my head in my hands. I had no idea what to do. My dad was the first person I thought about, but I quickly dismissed that as a bad idea. My dad hated me since I chose to move out of his house and leave the church. Although, in retrospect, it was mostly the latter. Instead, I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to clear my mind.

Sunday

Renee

I stood at the church's door again for the Sunday service. I pinched my lips in a thin line before pulling open the door. Inside, people were talking to each other, preparing for the service. I noticed him standing by the altar in his robes, talking to his fellow priests. There was the man who had committed his life to the Lord. Except for one "moment of weakness and temptation," as he put it. That's when he met my mother. They were together for only one night before she vanished. Ten months later she came to the church and handed over a one-month-old baby. As he always said, she rid herself of the child to have fun and commit sins.

My father always called me his little blessing after that, the one gift God gave to him as a sign of forgiveness for his moment of weakness. After that, it had been only me, him, and the Church. He was the only role model in my life. I was raised to be Catholic and put in a Catholic school before I could walk. The word of God has been ingrained in me since I was a child. My father wasn't strict, per se; he just liked things a particular way.

I stared at him again.

Except for a wrinkle or two on his forehead and his now salt-and-pepper hair, my father looked almost exactly like he did when I left. He was still fit. Clearly, he kept himself in shape even if his career path didn't have a high bar for physical requirements. I chewed my bottom lip and stared at him.

Almost as if he could feel my gaze, he glanced around the crowd briefly before locking eyes with me. I froze, watching his lips pinch into a thin line. I watched as he turned back to pat the other man's back and smiled briefly before leaving the altar and walking toward me. I turned around and quickly left the room, heading for the bathroom. I locked myself in a stall and took a nervous breath. I hadn't expected the heat I felt when we locked eyes, the way my heart seemed to skip a beat. As much as my father hated me because I chose to leave him and the church, I committed an even worse sin that caused me to run.

I fell in love with my father.

It was wrong. I knew it was wrong, so I ran away from my feelings. I'm not exactly sure why I came back. I suppose part of me hoped my feelings had faded in the intervening years, but that didn't appear to be the case.

I waited until the service had started before slipping out of the bathroom and returning to the sanctuary. I sat in the last pew through the entire morning sermon. I watched my father searching the crowd, wondering if he was looking for me. I hoped it was for me. My heart longed to be in my father's arms again. After the sermon, I left the church, walking back to my motel room. God, how I missed that man in ways I shouldn't. His eyes didn't stare at me with confusion or desperation. They stared at me with such determination. Maybe to prove to himself that it was me after all these years, perhaps to ask me to leave. All I knew was that I still wanted him.

The image of his face, his blue eyes staring into mine, woke something deep inside, a hunger that hadn't been active in a while. It was begging, almost aching to be touched. I relaxed in bed. My hand trailed down my body, softly brushed my tummy, and slowly kept going down. I grew needy. I wanted him; I wanted his hands touching me instead of my own. I could picture my clit grinding against his two fingers, soaking them.

I let out a soft moan as I rocked my hips back and forth, practically humping my fingers to the thought of my father--a priest. I felt naughty yet hot and excited about my father claiming me as his. I drew closer and closer, rubbing my fingers faster, pushing myself to a climax as I arched off the bed and let out a long moan that I didn't realize I'd been holding in. I lay there, catching my breath, staring back at the ceiling, riding my high.

I needed to see him again.

Augustus

I sat in my office before church, glancing at the picture of my little girl and me standing side by side in front of the church. Renee. She was eighteen in that photo, getting ready to graduate from high school and move on to college. She had a bright, excited smile on her face: the cutest but the smile of lies. For almost nine years, I called every day, hoping to get a response from my sweet angel. I should've taken the hint and accepted that she didn't want to talk to me anymore. She's grown now, almost 28 years old, and radio silence from me. I picked up my phone and dialed her number; it went to voicemail after a few rings.

"Hey sweetie, it's your dad... again. The voicemail box isn't full, so... I guess you're still getting these." I paused. "I just... want to hear your voice again. Please call me when you get the chance... If I had done something wrong, I want to fix it. Anyway, I am about to head into the sermon. Call me when you get the chance; love you." I hung up the phone, wiping the tears from my face before getting up and joining the rest of the church. I stood by my fellow priest, and he sparked up a conversation about the game last night. He made jokes that made me laugh and shake my head. I felt the urge to look around the room, and I did, glancing at the sea of people before I locked eyes with her. For a moment, it was only us in that room, my beautiful only daughter. She stood so far away but was trapped in my gaze, a blush formed on her pale skin as she chewed on her bottom rosy lip--a habit I'd had to spank out of her. No father should look at her the way I am.

Age has done well with her, like a fine wine. I quickly mentioned that I would be right back to the other priest and made my way down the steps of the stage toward her. She turned away. "No," I wanted to call out to her. I tried to brush past the people who greeted me. I responded to be polite, but my eyes never left her until she walked out of the main church. I left the room, only to be met with a sea of people and no sign of Renee anywhere. Was it a ghost? No. It couldn't have been. I swallowed back my tears, the disappointment I had felt once again, and walked back into the church to start.

Despite trying to convince myself that I had only seen the ghost of my daughter, I continued looking for her. Throughout the sermon and afterward, I called again to no avail. Had she come home? Why was she still avoiding me if she was here? God, I missed her in ways a father shouldn't have. When I got home, I walked straight to my daughter's room. It looked just as it did the day she left, sitting there like a broken memory. It's been so long since I had seen her, touched her, hugged her.

I sat on her bed, looking around the room--the image of her in the back of the sanctuary burned in my brain. I felt tortured, feeling things no father should feel. Yet I sat in my daughter's bed, entrapped in her faded scent that made me go feral. I never dared to think about her when she was only a kid. That was gross, not my cup of tea, and I would kill a guy who thought it was theirs. But the summer of her 18th year of life, I noticed it, noticed... her. Her body, the way she nervously stood by me, not because she was scared. I hope it wasn't, I would've never forgiven myself. I passed her room a few times when she thought I wasn't there. She touched herself, practically humping her own hand. I had to stop myself from interfering with her pleasure, but when she moaned my name, oh, I knew.

Such a naughty girl, my naughty girl. But then she left for college before I could say anything, and she ghosted me. Nothing could describe the heartbreak I had felt, but the guilt ate at me silently. Was I heartbroken because she left or was I heartbroken at the idea of what could've been? Either way, I knew I needed her here right now and this point, I was rock hard. I undid the zipper of my slacks and practically shoved them off along with my briefs. My dick was throbbing at this point. Sitting in my daughter's bed, trapped in my forbidden temptation, my hand lightly trailed down, sending a shiver down my spine. I began to tug my cock, letting out moans as I stroked to the thought of my daughter biting that lip of hers. I could picture those rosy lips wrapped around my thick cock.

I would fuck her face first and wipe the tears that formed as she took my cock into her mouth like the good girl she was. I needed her to know she was mine, a possession I knew was wrong but had long forgotten about. I stroked faster, groaning out fuck.... My cum shot out desperately and quickly, hitting my stomach as I stared at the ceiling.

Wednesday

Renee

Wednesday. I'd spent the last two days job hunting. It was a small town, but how hard could it be? Famous last words given the questions that arose when people saw someone with the same last name as the town's priest. Many deniable questions, yet I knew the town would talk. How could they now? I looked like the woman he fucked almost 28 years ago. In the end, I found a job waitressing at the diner.

However, I found myself at the church doors, deciding again to go inside. I sat in one of the pews, staring at the confessional, watching a man emerge and silently leave the church. I decided and walked over, stepping inside, and sitting on the hard wooden chair. It had been a long time since I had done this.

"Hello?" My voice was soft; the man on the other side stiffened as he heard my voice. "I'm sorry, you'll have to forgive me. It has been a long time since I've been here." I whispered, "And a very long time since I confessed." I heard a soft chuckle.

"That is fine; it is normal. I am meant to walk you through this," he said. His voice was low, almost sexy. I swallowed my spit and twiddled my thumbs.

"How does this start again? I only remember the whole 'Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,' which was honestly through the TV shows I watched before coming here," I rambled. He let out a soft laugh. It was cute and brought a smile to my nervous face.

"Well, that is part of it." He hummed, "The other part is 'My last confession is...'" He trailed off, waiting for me to finish the sentence.

"Too long ago to remember," I responded. He laughed again, "I was a kid trying to get out of trouble with my father. It worked, by the way."

"Okay, tell me, what sins do you need to confess?" he asked. The atmosphere around me tensed as I found myself shifting nervously again.

"Well, I did something wrong, really wrong, and...." I hesitated. "I don't know how to come back from it," I whispered guilty, staring down at my hands as the sound of my heartbeat filled my eardrums.

Augustus

Wednesday. It was a dull day in the middle of the week. My only obligation is to sit in the confessional for the better part of the morning, and then the rest of the day is mine. Throughout the morning, my thoughts kept straying to Renee. My feelings of sadness and lust turned to anger and frustration. Why did she leave? Did she think I would've judged her? I loved her so much.

The sound of the confessional door opening beside me pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Hello...?"

I knew that angelic voice, my baby, my angel, Renee!

I heard her shuffle nervously. "I'm sorry, you'll have to forgive me. It has been a long time since I been here and a very long time since I confessed."

I chuckled. She got that right. My poor eleven-year-old daughter was confessing that she had failed her test. Too afraid I would get angry, I was more amused that she confided in me by using the confessional instead of talking to me directly.

"That is fine, my child. I am meant to walk you through this." My voice was hoarse, and I could hear her swallowing.

"How does this start again? I only remember the whole, 'bless me, Father, for I have sinned,' and that was honestly through TV shows I watched before coming here." She rambled, I laughed before covering my mouth; oh Renee, I would've hoped I engrained that in you.

"Well, that is part of it." I chuckled, "The other part is, 'my last confession was..." I trailed off waiting for her to continue.

"Too long ago to remember." She responded, I laughed again, "I was a kid, trying to get out of trouble from my father; it worked by the way." I shook my head silently, it did work, I couldn't stay upset with her long.

"Okay, tell me, what sins do you need to confess?" I asked her. The atmosphere around us changed from playful to a serious, tense feeling in the air.

"Well, I did something wrong, really wrong, and.." She hesitated, "I don't know how to come back from it." She whispered, I sat there silently, waiting for her to continue, "A few years ago, I left behind the church and honestly... my father... I just... ghosted him after I left for college, and I know he hates me for straying from the path of God."

"I don't think he hates you for that." It was true, I didn't hate her, I would never hate her for anything, even if she strayed from the past.

"But he does, I know he does, God... this religion and life is everything too him, I was a part of his everything, and I just left." She whispered, oh my sweet angel, how could I stay mad at you for that? I just wanted to know why... That was what I wanted to say, but I chose not to.

"Dear... it is not a sin to choose to leave your father. Growing up is a part of life," I answered her instead. I could hear her hesitance from here before she spoke again.

"I told you why I think my father hates me... but I didn't tell you why he would," she whispered before taking a shaken, deep breath. "I think I fell in love with him." I felt my heart sink to my stomach. She was in love with me.

"Like how a daughter should love a father?" I asked for clarification.

"No..."She trailed off, "I mean, in a way that a daughter shouldn't." She admitted, "I realized it on my eighteenth birthday." She explained, "He was furious I snuck out with friends, angrier than usual. He bent me over his knee and spanked me." I remembered that night. Not even a full day since she turned to a legal adult. She snuck out without talking to me and went to a party. She came home slightly drunk, not blackout wasted, but had clearly been drinking for the night. She wore a short, bright pink skirt and a white crop top. I pulled her over my knee that night and just spanked her. I remember her crying out. But now that I think about it, it was more out of pleasure than pain. She practically ground into my knee as I spanked her, and I remember seeing a wet patch in her panties and just staring at her ass. I couldn't risk it, I lifted her off of me and took her to bed.

"I don't know. After that, I just got so turned on by him," she continued, pulling me out of my thoughts. "I would hump my hand to get off, some relief. It was never enough. I wanted him." I knew the feeling, especially at this precise moment. My dick was once again rock hard, ready for some release. "I even spied on him in the shower. I would watch him jerk himself off and cum. It was such a hot scene," she admitted. Jesus Christ, naughty Renee, my cock practically pounced. "I mean... even now, I get horny thinking about it, about him." She whispered, "For a while, I would imagine, him tying me up, using me, defiling me, claiming me as only his." I gulped, "I wanted him to fuck my face, then fuck me, and sometimes I imagine him bending me over and spanking me like I was his whore." Oh, that was it.

I got up, left the confessional, and opened the door to her side. Her eyes widened, staring up at me as I stood over her.

"D-dad..." she whispered.

"Office now," I said through gritted teeth. She didn't try to counter me, getting up and heading into the back rooms towards the office. I took a deep breath, watched her leave the room and walked back to lock the church doors. I made my way back to my office. My daughter stood in the room, pacing. It took me only a moment to notice the familiar short pink skirt. Jesus, was she trying to seduce me here? I closed the door behind me, locking the door immediately.

"Daddy, hear me out." I raised a hand. She quickly closed her pretty lips, I took a step toward her. She took a step back.

"I called every day for nine years. Texted every day for nine years." My voice was low, dark, and filled with anger. "Confused about what I had done as your parent, spent years combing through our past trying to see if I had mistreated or hurt you." I trapped her against the wall between my arms. "And this is why?" I asked. "Not because I hurt you, but because you didn't talk to me?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered meekly.

"Are you? Because if you were, you would've done something sooner."

She gulped again, staring deep into my eyes. I grabbed her arm, pulled her back towards my desk, and bent her over it. Pink panties. My hand trailed across her ass as I sat in my chair. Her ass was still lovely and plump.

"Why are you here now?" I asked her,

"Because... I needed to come home."

"But why the church? Why come to the confessional wearing this... short skirt?"

She hesitated. "I don't know; I just felt like I had to."

I gave her ass a quick slap. She jumped and gasped, but I smacked her other cheek and gently caressed her as I felt her push back against my hand. I glanced up, watching her hold the end of the table. I smirked, slapping her ass again and again. She was panting, moaning, and pushing her ass back against my hand, almost begging for more. I pulled her ass to the edge of the desk, staring at the wet patch of her panties. My hands hooked onto her panties and paused. To say nothing of the law itself, I was crossing the line of my vows.