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Authors: Lisette Ashton
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her hand away and forced herself to remain still while the priest repeated his instructions, and listened as the penitent mumbled mortified agreement. The last thing she heard, before the grille was snapped closed, was the woman whispering, ‘ Oui, mon Père. Merci, mon Père .’
‘That was nicely vindictive,’ the priest chuckled.
Once again, his mouth was over Justine’s ear and his breath heated each word. She trembled against him, not sure why he triggered such a lecherous response and not wanting to rationalise her feelings. It was more satisfying simply to press into his embrace and relish the myriad delights he tormented from her body.
‘I think I might abuse her fully when the putain returns to show me her punished arse,’ the priest confided. ‘You really are a deviant.’
Justine wouldn’t let herself dwell on the picture of the priest forcing the penitent to submit to his will. It was heady enough surrendering herself to the man. The idea of him tormenting another innocent victim was too arousing for her to entertain without suffering another thrill of satisfaction. She wanted to deny the priest’s accusation that she was a deviant, but there was already the sound of someone else entering the confessional and she bit her lower lip in an attempt to stay silent.
‘ Père, pardonnez-moi car j’ai péché .’
The priest pushed his mouth close to Justine’s ear. She could detect the musk of her pussy on his breath when he spoke and the scent was maddeningly intoxicating. ‘What do you suggest I do with this one?’ he asked.
‘You don’t know what’s he’s done yet,’ she returned.
‘Does it matter?’
She caught her breath, enthralled by the idea of punishment without motive. Glancing toward the grille, intending to turn her thoughts to something truly twisted, she gasped when she saw the small window had been opened and a face was leering in at her.
The priest above her grinned and Justine instantly understood that he had been expecting this particular man. She glanced again at the newcomer’s porcine features and shrank from the lechery in his expression. He drew a dark pink tongue across thick over-ripe lips while appraising her heavily shadowed nudity. Without glancing in the direction of the priest he asked, ‘When can I use her?’
Justine shook her head and thought about protesting but she knew it would do no good. Squirming at the thought of what she might be expected to endure, she glanced helplessly at the priest and silently implored him to show mercy.
‘If you clear the church for me, Bishop, I shall bring the little slut out.’
Justine glanced from one to the other.
‘Consider it done,’ the bishop mumbled.
He broadened his grin as he appraised her body for a final time, and then drew his face away from the window. And, still cramped in the confines of the confessional, and growing more frightened than ever, Justine wondered what the pair would plan to do with her once they had her alone.
Four
The bishop opened the door to the confessional and pulled Justine into the church. He wasn’t dressed as she had expected: instead of wearing full ceremonial attire he simply wore a white collar, slacks and a sports jacket. His face was fat and piggish with beady eyes and a snout-like nose. The jacket was open to reveal a potbelly straining against the waist of his burgundy shirt. The lechery in his smile was disquieting.
‘Very good, Father.’ He flashed his grin at the priest behind Justine. ‘What do you want to do with her?’
The priest stepped out of the confessional and, dwarfed between the pair of them, Justine found herself growing more and more uneasy. They made a foreboding team and, because she was naked and standing in their church, she realised they had her at a definite disadvantage. Her hands began to tremble with fresh disquiet.
‘She wants to acquire La Coste ,’ the priest explained to his colleague. ‘Shall we see what she is prepared to
‘That was nicely vindictive,’ the priest chuckled.
Once again, his mouth was over Justine’s ear and his breath heated each word. She trembled against him, not sure why he triggered such a lecherous response and not wanting to rationalise her feelings. It was more satisfying simply to press into his embrace and relish the myriad delights he tormented from her body.
‘I think I might abuse her fully when the putain returns to show me her punished arse,’ the priest confided. ‘You really are a deviant.’
Justine wouldn’t let herself dwell on the picture of the priest forcing the penitent to submit to his will. It was heady enough surrendering herself to the man. The idea of him tormenting another innocent victim was too arousing for her to entertain without suffering another thrill of satisfaction. She wanted to deny the priest’s accusation that she was a deviant, but there was already the sound of someone else entering the confessional and she bit her lower lip in an attempt to stay silent.
‘ Père, pardonnez-moi car j’ai péché .’
The priest pushed his mouth close to Justine’s ear. She could detect the musk of her pussy on his breath when he spoke and the scent was maddeningly intoxicating. ‘What do you suggest I do with this one?’ he asked.
‘You don’t know what’s he’s done yet,’ she returned.
‘Does it matter?’
She caught her breath, enthralled by the idea of punishment without motive. Glancing toward the grille, intending to turn her thoughts to something truly twisted, she gasped when she saw the small window had been opened and a face was leering in at her.
The priest above her grinned and Justine instantly understood that he had been expecting this particular man. She glanced again at the newcomer’s porcine features and shrank from the lechery in his expression. He drew a dark pink tongue across thick over-ripe lips while appraising her heavily shadowed nudity. Without glancing in the direction of the priest he asked, ‘When can I use her?’
Justine shook her head and thought about protesting but she knew it would do no good. Squirming at the thought of what she might be expected to endure, she glanced helplessly at the priest and silently implored him to show mercy.
‘If you clear the church for me, Bishop, I shall bring the little slut out.’
Justine glanced from one to the other.
‘Consider it done,’ the bishop mumbled.
He broadened his grin as he appraised her body for a final time, and then drew his face away from the window. And, still cramped in the confines of the confessional, and growing more frightened than ever, Justine wondered what the pair would plan to do with her once they had her alone.
Four
The bishop opened the door to the confessional and pulled Justine into the church. He wasn’t dressed as she had expected: instead of wearing full ceremonial attire he simply wore a white collar, slacks and a sports jacket. His face was fat and piggish with beady eyes and a snout-like nose. The jacket was open to reveal a potbelly straining against the waist of his burgundy shirt. The lechery in his smile was disquieting.
‘Very good, Father.’ He flashed his grin at the priest behind Justine. ‘What do you want to do with her?’
The priest stepped out of the confessional and, dwarfed between the pair of them, Justine found herself growing more and more uneasy. They made a foreboding team and, because she was naked and standing in their church, she realised they had her at a definite disadvantage. Her hands began to tremble with fresh disquiet.
‘She wants to acquire La Coste ,’ the priest explained to his colleague. ‘Shall we see what she is prepared to
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