The presbytery kitchen tiles were cold under my knees that fateful morning. I’d fainted, sprawled out like a sack of flour. Father HĂ©raut found me, his rough hands checking my pulse. Doctor came, saw the fresh welts crisscrossing my back. I hid them quick, but he knew. Sleep pills prescribed. Exhaustion from nights whipping myself raw, punishing the fire between my thighs for him.
Days blurred. I slaved on, cooking, cleaning, eyes stealing glances at his thick arms, his cigar smoke filling the air. Dinners together, his insistence. That night, good wine flowed. My head swam, tongue loose. He probed gently, then sharp: ‘Why the self-flagellation, Juliette? Bad thoughts?’ My cheeks burned. The devil in me stirred. ‘Desires,’ I sobbed. For him. His priestly body glimpsed naked in the bath, cock swinging heavy. I lashed my back bloody to kill the ache.
The Awakening in the Presbytery
Wine fueled fury. I screamed it: ‘You! I crave you!’ Pushed him down, fled to the church. Door ajar. Kneeling at Virgin’s chapel, back bare, tits out, martinet cracking flesh. Pain shot fire to my cunt, juices dripping. He burst in, wrestled the whip away. Held me tight. My fevered skin against his cassock. I lunged, bit his neck, grabbed his bulge. ‘Fuck me, Father. I need your cock.’ He signed the cross. I calmed, broken.
He led me back, gentle. Sat me on the couch. ‘We’re flesh, Juliette.’ Cleaned my wounds. Hands on my heavy tits, longer than needed. Nipples hardened under his thumbs. Electricity jolted my core. I begged for his mouth. Our lips crashed, tongues hungry. Kneeling, I mouthed his pants, pleading. ‘I’ve fingered myself dreaming of this fat priest dick.’ He unzipped. God, it sprang out, veiny, thick as my wrist.
Surrender and Ecstasy in the Shadows
I sucked clumsy, eager. Saliva dripping, gagging on his girth. He groaned, guided my head. Bedroom next. Stripped bare, my fat bush soaked. His tongue dove in, lapping my swollen clit. Waves built, crashing—first real orgasm from a man. Body shook, tits heaving. He mounted me missionary, slow thrust splitting me open. Filled me deep. Pumped steady, my walls clenching.
Flipped doggy. Slapped my ass red. ‘Dirty slut, love priest cock?’ ‘Yes, fuck your whore!’ He hammered, balls slapping. I came screaming, milking him. Hot seed flooded me. Collapsed, sweaty, sated. Morning blowjob, swallowing his load like communion.
We fucked daily, hidden. Church pews, altar shadows—anal too, his spit-lubed cock stretching my ass. Village whispered ‘curĂ©’s woman.’ Didn’t care. His rough hands, dirty growls: my heaven. Till cancer took him. I prayed his grave, our sin eternal. Thrill of the forbidden? Still throbs.