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You slipped past the curtain and took a seat on your side of the confession booth, sighing quietly to yourself. “Bless me, Papa,” you asked softly.
“Of course,” the deep voice responded. “Tell me what you need, child.”
His voice sounded different up close in a small space like this— the polar opposite of hearing him speak in the massive chapels; he was so close, just on the other side of the lattice, but even when you squinted and peeked into it all you could make out was the vague silhouette of him.
“I… I have disobeyed your teachings,” you admitted, “and the will of our great unholy ruler.”
“Mm,” was his only response, a hint of expectance to it.
“I have denied my lust,” you confessed softly. “I ache for someone, but I have done nothing— actually, I just try to ignore it…”
“Why would you ignore something so pure and precious as desire?”
“I’m afraid, Papa,” you whimpered. “Afraid I’m not good enough for him…”
“You know my church is no place for humility,” he scolded, “certainly not shame.”
“I know,” you sighed.
“If the one you desire rejects you, then that is their choice— but you can’t deny your own needs just because you think too little of yourself,” he explained.
“My needs?” you repeated nervously.
“Yes— you need to be pleasured, hm?” he assumed. You nodded shyly, before remembering that he couldn’t actually see you. “You need to be kissed and caressed, touched, filled—
fucked
.”
Your thighs pressed together tightly and you stifled a gasp. “Y-yes…”
“It’s only natural,” he said casually— like he hadn’t just sent a shock through your whole body with just his words. “Everyone here understands that… if it is someone in my church that you desire, I’m not sure what you have to be afraid of. What reason do you have to think that you would be spurned?”
“It’s just… I’m only a humble worshiper,” you explained as your heart started to race, “and he… he’s so important. He’s… he’s in one of the highest positions in the whole church…”
You swallowed thickly as a short, but heavy, pause filled the confines of the booth. “Is he?” Secondo finally pressed, but the depth of his voice gave away that he already knew.
“Yes, Papa,” you shakily relented, “and I try to listen and learn when he speaks, but I just— all I can think about is how badly I need him.”
“Mm,” he said again, annoyingly cryptic as per usual. “Your carnality is insatiable, my child. Very good.”
You gripped tighter onto the wooden bench beneath you, eyes fluttering shut; it only took a little stern praise from him to drive you wild, apparently.
“The one you desire isn’t so far away, is he?” Secondo teased. “You only need a little courage, and you will be given all you seek.”
The partition between the two halves of the booth slid open, and your eyes widened.
“Come here, pet,” he offered gently— he had that way about him, he could be so intense but so gentle and nurturing at the same time, if he wanted.
The booth wasn’t really designed to allow you to stand up fully, so you had to crouch slightly when you got up and moved to his half. It was quite dark in the booth, but enough light broke through the cracks in the curtain that you could see the shape of him: you could see the familiar dark stare, the sharpness of his painted face, his waiting expression with one eyebrow slightly raised.
And, maybe this was less important, but you could smell him: some kind of musky cologne, presumably, a sweeter scent than you would’ve imagined, but blessed Belial was it addicting.
He shifted his legs further apart, his robes draping between his knees and against the bench beneath him. “I will give you what you desire— but you must prove yourself to me first,” he explained. “Kneel before me.”
You shakily got down on your knees and looked up at him as you blinked quickly; you rarely got to be so close to him, it was making your heart beat faster already. His stare felt heavy and piercing as it ran over you, and all he had to do was slightly motion with his hand— turning it out in that
go ahead
movement— for you to nod and reach up under his robes carefully.
Honestly, you’d wondered before what the Papas wore under their robes, and in Secondo’s case, it apparently was nothing. You pushed the rich fabric out of the way only to come face to face with his erection growing against his thigh. “You see what your eagerness and desperation has done to me, child?” he scolded. “When I feel that hunger, I feed it, not flee from it— you know better.”
“Y-yes, Papa,” you mumbled weakly, feeling guilty for your misbehavior but knowing you were soon to be absolved.
“Now, earn your forgiveness,” he insisted, moving his hips forward slightly on the bench to make the angle a little easier, and you nodded before leaning in towards his lap with a quick gulp to suppress your nerves.
And by the way, when he sang that he is
the one who comes richly endowed
? That wasn’t just a lyric thrown in there because it flowed nicely: it was entirely literal and accurate. You swallowed thickly as you wrapped your fingers around it, trying not to be scared of how thick his cock was… fitting it in your mouth was going to be enough of a struggle, let alone anywhere else if he was so generous.
Giving the silky skin of his cock a few gentle strokes, you leaned in and gently ran your tongue along the underside of the head.
You kept looking up at him expectantly, wishing you could catch a reaction on his face— but for the most part, he was irritatingly stoic as he watched you lick and kiss all over his cock. You found yourself getting desperate for a response, trying to be better until he gave you some kind of encouragement: you moaned around him, you ran your tongue everywhere you could reach, you batted your eyes up at him.
The only thing that ever got a response was when the tip of your tongue flicked over his slit; for just a second, his nostrils flared, and you beamed excitedly. “Am I doing well, Papa?” you asked eagerly.
“Keep going,” he ordered firmly, not necessarily answering your question— but it was a good sign. You did it again before wrapping your lips around his fat tip, suckling carefully and humming at how oddly comforting it felt to have him in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around slowly, tasting the slightest saltiness leak from his cock, and you purred happily.
It was the slightest movements at first, hardly giving him much friction and focusing instead on getting used to what you had, but you did begin to drop lower down, if only by centimeters at a time.
It took opening your mouth nearly as wide as it would go to get him any deeper, but you pressed on, never willing to disappoint your Papa. It paid off, since the next bob of your head finally made him groan a little— a small reaction, but it made your body hum with joy. You moved faster to try to make him do it again; instead, you felt one of his hands rest on your shoulder, which honestly was even better.
Your lips probably weren’t even halfway down his length when the tip of him bumped into your throat— and you didn’t let it affect you at first, instead just keeping your movements steady, but at a certain point you couldn’t ignore it anymore: you gagged around him, but managed to keep it quiet.
His grip on your shoulder tightened slightly and you heard him moan in the back of his throat, however softly. Your chest was already burning with pride, and between your legs— well, needless to say you were having a strong reaction there, too. In fact, it was taking quite a bit of willpower to keep yourself from trying to rub against your own leg or something as you knelt; thankfully, pleasing your Papa was your main focus at the moment.
The next time you gagged, it was a little louder and harder, and you had to pull back slightly as your eyes began to water. Thankfully he seemed far from disappointed; he groaned encouragingly once again as you drooled over him and your hand smoothed it out, stroking the (significant) portion of him that your mouth couldn’t reach.
His head tilted back until it rested against the wooden wall of the booth behind him— you loved how he looked in that moment, with his eyes shut and his mouth slightly parted: he looked relaxed, in a way that made you realize he normally carried a lot of tension.
Your eyes shut as well and you really focused on your work, moaning louder even though it was muffled with your mouth full. Again you could feel his cock leaking precum onto your tongue and you gratefully swallowed it down before venturing down to let him reach your throat again. You choked slightly with each bob of your head, but it didn’t slow you down one bit— you were chasing after those little groans he let out when you did it, feeling your inner walls clench almost in time with your throat.
His hand slid up your neck, then ran over your hair and pushed your head slightly as he exhaled sharply through his nose; for a moment, you felt his nails scratch your scalp. He kept you from pulling too far back up off of him, but you weren’t a flight risk— each movement allowed you to take him just a little bit deeper, it seemed, and you loved the feeling of him filling your throat.
You worried you’d done something wrong when he gently pushed you back, but his proud groan as he looked down at you made you less concerned. “You certainly know how to give pleasure, little one,” he praised. “But let me show you how to receive it, hm? Get up and sit in Papa’s lap.”
You hopped up so quickly that you almost hit your head on the top of the confession booth, but thankfully you avoided injury and straddled his legs happily. “Like this?” you asked excitedly.
“Yes, very good,” he nodded, already starting to reach up for your dress. “Help me take this off, we won’t need that.”
You reached back behind yourself to open the dress as he slid the sleeves down your arms— the leather of his gloves tickled over your skin and you squirmed a little. With your dress gone, all that was left was your pair of white panties, which you were almost self-conscious about as he examined them and pinched the waistband between his finger and thumb.
“How cute,” he cooed; that wasn’t really a word you ever expected to hear him say, but it made you bite your lip absent-mindedly. “I think I’ll have to take these.”
Not quite sure what he meant at first, you yelped softly when his gloved hands took a tight grip of them just to rip them open at the seams with a snap; the show of strength already made your heart flutter, but him shoving the torn garment into a pocket inside his robes was even more arousing. Already, your mind was racing with ideas of what he would do with them.
“A little gift for Papa, eh?” he suggested with a half-smile— you’d never seen him smile at
all
before, and it did absolutely nothing to make him look less menacing.
With you totally exposed for him, he took the opportunity to run his fingers over your pussy, teasing you with just one brief brush of that firm leather over your clit. “O-oh, Papa,” you shuddered, wishing he would do it again, but he moved on quickly.
“What a precious thing you are,” he praised softly, reverently. Gloved hands traced over your frame, briefly teasing your hardened nipples and petting your quivering thighs.
When he grabbed a hold of your ass, you whimpered a little but let him guide you to sit up more, until you were hovering over his hard cock— he wrapped a hand around it and moved it closer to you, sliding his tip through your soaked lips.
“Oh, pet,” he sighed, “you’ve drenched yourself, poor thing… I’m going to make all that frustration go away.”
But you couldn’t help but tense up when he even just barely pushed the head against your hole. “Papa, are you sure…?” you trailed off nervously.
“Do you fear it will hurt you, little one?” he asked, and you nodded. “If it did, that wouldn’t stop you, would it?”
His condescending tone made you clench inside. “N-no, Papa,” you whimpered.
“Go ahead, child— slowly, we have all the time we need.”
Apparently he didn’t mind keeping all the other people in line for confession waiting. Knowing they were all just outside, surely well aware of what was happening in the booth, somehow only egged you on more even if it made your face feel terribly hot.
You sank down slowly, already needing to stop before even the ridge of his head was inside— see, when you were holding yourself up like this, you couldn’t exactly relax your muscles because you were using them. It made him an even tighter fit, and you winced through your teeth as you started to feel him stretch you open. “
Good
,” he praised darkly, his satisfaction egging you on.
Lowering yourself more, you heard a deep moan jump from your throat. The friction and stretch was always just a little too much right at first, only to fade into perfection after a moment. Your hands held onto his shoulders, and not just for balance— you loved how strong he felt, how solid. His grip on you was bruisingly tight, but it made you feel safe.
He seemed to get even thicker the closer you got to the base of him, and before you'd reached the end it was also too much, too sharp of a sting inside you. You choked on a whimper and he reached up to cradle your head, stroking your temple with his thumb. “Shh, shh,” he soothed, “be gentle, little lamb, you’re a very delicate thing.”
You slowed down a bit, even though your legs were starting to shake, and held tighter onto his shoulders. “P-Papa,” you stammered.
“You're doing very well,” he assured, “I know you can take all of me, I know that you
need
it. Go on, little one, Papa's got you.”
Shuddering as you slid the rest of the way down, you shut your eyes tight with a wince of anticipation before quickly sinking those last few inches.
You both sighed with relief when your lap settled into his; he was whispering praises to you but the words were lost in your delirious mind— all you heard was the general sentiment that you were doing well for Papa, and that was all you needed.
You rocked your hips, patiently at first, and moaned lowly at the tense friction. When you moved like that, the tip of him rubbed against something so far inside you— a dull yet throbbing feeling that made your eyes roll back.
“Good,” he purred again, “don't you see how
right
it is? How your body was meant to take mine?”
You were too lost in the feeling to actually answer, just moaning in response instead. As your moans grew louder with each motion, you heard your own noises echo against the booth’s walls and quickly bit your lip to keep quiet.
“Don’t be shy, pet— don’t try to hide how good it feels,” he growled. “Take pride in it, it’s a precious gift. And what do you say when you receive a gift?”
“Thank you,” you panted quickly. “Th-thank you, Papa.”
“Tell me,” he commanded. “Tell me everything.”
“I-I wanted you for so long, Papa,” you whined. “I wanted to please and serve you— I wanted you to touch me a-and whisper to me…”
“About what?” he wondered.
“Fuck, anything!” you yelped. “Your voice does things to me… things I don’t understand, things I’ve never felt before…”
He chuckled deeply, making you feel even more foolish in an addictive sort of way. “You’re no stranger to lust, child,” he purred, “it must be really something, if
you
can’t explain it. How could I have such an effect on you when you hardly know me at all?”
But he didn’t seem all that surprised— he knew what he had been doing to you, and he clearly reveled in it. “I couldn't help it, I-I just couldn't stop thinking about you,” you whined.
That whine became even more desperate when one of his hands slipped around you to grab a nice greedy handful of your ass, guiding your movements and kneading your delicate skin. “And this is what you wanted?” he taunted. “To ride my cock like a desperate little whore?”
Your throat caught on your words so you just nodded instead, finding a tight grip on the neckline of his robes while you moved.
You stopped rocking your hips and started properly bouncing on his lap, both of you moaning at the more intense feeling. The sound of skin on skin echoed in the enclosed space; you loved how raunchy it sounded, unhinged and unrestrained pleasure after all that time you’d spent trying to suppress yourself. Sometimes it had seemed like you were summoning all your willpower just to keep your hands from going between your legs during Mass— and that was, of course, the first place they ended up once you found a chance to be alone after watching him. But you sort of figured you weren’t the only person in the congregation with that problem.
But how many of them ended up
here,
with an opportunity like this? Even if he was known to be pretty generous with his cock, this still felt pretty rare, and special— you felt a grin fill your face as you wondered how many people outside the booth were jealous of you right then.
That smile couldn’t last long when you felt that spot inside you getting even more friction; you had to gasp and let your eyes fall shut. One of his hands ran up your side encouragingly, groping at your chest as it bounced with each of your motions. He hummed approvingly, even hissed a little when he pinched your nipple because of the flex inside you that it caused.
“Pretty little pet,” he cooed sweetly. “Your body is so obedient to me already, hm? So responsive to just the slightest touch.”
“J-just for you, Papa,” you whimpered.
“Oh, you aren’t usually so sensitive?”
You shook your head a little, whimpering again when he kneaded at your breast, carefully toying with your nipple between his finger and thumb. He purred approvingly, his other hand grabbing tight onto your hip and pulling you down onto him— making you take his cock a little deeper and a lot more forcefully. You cried out instantly, and he smirked at you condescendingly.
“It’s not too much for you, is it, child?” he teased. “You can take all of me, yes?”
“Yes, Papa, it’s just— y-you’re so deep in me,” you moaned. “I feel so full…”
“You like how it feels, to be filled completely?”
“I love it,” you gasped. “Papa, I love how you feel inside me.”
“Mm,” he purred proudly, “so grateful— you’re learning quickly, little one.”
You bit down on your lip to fight back another needy moan from his praise.
“Let them all hear you, little lamb,” he praised darkly. “You have nothing to hide from them.”
“O-oh, Papa!” you cried, your head falling back as you sped up your riding.
“
Yes
,” he hissed encouragingly, gloved fingers digging into your hips to guide you.
When he started to buck up into you, pushing his cock just
that
much deeper each time you crashed together, you nearly screamed; your hands flew off of his shoulders and slammed against either side of the booth around you, just searching for something to keep you steady. “Fuckfuckfuck,” you rushed, “Papa, yes!”
He was baring his teeth as he slammed up into you, and soon you weren't even really riding him anymore, you were just holding on for dear life as he railed you.
Your head tilted back and your moans seemed to get deeper— and they were louder, too, but part of that was just the way they echoed off the wall of the booth right above your face. At this point, it wouldn’t just be those waiting for their turn to confess that could hear you: you felt like everyone in the whole church would know what was happening to you. But you were too far gone to be self-conscious about it, if anything you felt more proud than ever.
“What a good fucking whore,” he growled through his teeth. “You take cock too well to act so shy— I should’ve known what you needed from me, I should’ve known you were desperate to be fucked, you weren’t exactly subtle about it, were you? I felt your eyes on me every Mass.”
One of his hands slid up your thigh, and a leather-covered thumb pressed against your bud just above where his body entered yours. He barely had to touch it, barely had to move his finger at all; he knew just how to play your body like his instrument, and
oh
the music you made. “Yes,
fuck
, yes, please— Papa, just like that, please keep touching me,” you begged.
He groaned proudly. “You sound so sweet, little one— you want to cum, yes?”
“
Yes!
” you all but screamed. “Yes, Papa, please, please…”
“Just keep begging for me, sweet child, I’ll give you what you need,” he promised.
“Papa, Papa,” you chanted thoughtlessly, “i-it’s so good, it feels so good— fuck! I’m going to cum, Papa—”
“Good,” he praised darkly, hissing in a breath through his teeth.
Your moans were like sobs by that point, your body quivering but refusing to slow down as you chased your high. He didn’t slow down either, thank Satan, and you loved how it felt to keep rocking down towards him with each motion— it was more control over this than you’d honestly expected.
“It's almost time, isn't it, pet? Your pretty little cunt is squeezing my cock…”
You nodded quickly, biting on your lip to cope with the overwhelming intensity that was about to crash into you.
“Do it,” he demanded, “come for me. Scream for your Papa.”
You figured you did, but it was hard to tell when your ears were ringing like that. It was that beautiful, blinding black light of ecstasy, and it was
so
much better than when you brought yourself to the peak in your bed late at night to memories of him. The feeling went so much higher, so much deeper, so much harder; he was right, of course, that you should’ve pursued your desire instead of trying to satiate it alone. Nothing could compare to this— there was no substitution for what he could make you feel.
He kept rapidly thrusting up into you, even when you went almost entirely limp above him, even grabbing hold of one of your shoulders to make sure you took the full length of every thrust. It was a little overstimulating, but you couldn't pretend you didn't love how it felt to be used by him for a few moments.
He stopped suddenly, pulling your hips down and keeping himself completely inside as his head fell back and he grunted roughly.
You smiled— bliss, contentment, a soft sort of pride— as you felt him flexing inside you: his cum inside you was your reward for a job well done, as was his long sigh of relief as he relaxed a bit onto the bench.
His hand moved away from your swollen bud (thank Satan, you wouldn’t have been able to take much more stimulation there) and pet the side of your face in an oddly tender way. “You’ve done well, my little lamb,” he praised, something especially seductive in his voice when it was heavy with exhaustion and ecstasy like that.
Still trying to catch your breath, you slid your hands down from where they’d pressed against the walls of the booth— your arms were quite sore, and you only noticed once you moved them— and rested them gently on his arms as he loosely held your thighs.
“If you should desire me again, you need only find me in my chambers,” he encouraged. “There’s no need to fear or avoid your carnal needs— you trust Papa to take care of you, yes?”
You nodded happily. “Thank you, Papa.”
“Now, redress yourself and go and say your prayers,” he instructed, taking his hands off of you. “Thank our infernal master for his gift of lust.”
You blinked quickly, realizing a part of you had yet to come back to reality until then— you were still in confession, and you couldn’t just stay here and bask in the sticky, heady warmth.
You didn't rush through getting off his lap, you would've hurt yourself if you did; you both hissed a little as you carefully let his cock slip out.
All he had to do was drape his robes back over himself… you had a harder job, trying to turn your dress right side out again and put it back on. He didn't offer any assistance, only that trademark dark stare; how could he look so unaffected after all that, basically the exact same as he had before? The only difference you could spot was that his chest was rising and falling a little bit faster as he caught his breath.
For a second, you hesitated— just in case he said something else— before slipping back out through the curtain and into the grand hall of the church. You heard the partition between the two halves slide shut once again behind you, and you avoided the gazes of everyone waiting to confess as the next person stepped into the booth.
You weren’t exactly limping, but you were walking awkwardly on account of the soreness in your hips and the thick, hot substance oozing down your thighs. You passed the line of waiting worshippers, flushing a little as heads turned to watch you. No one would judge you— in fact, they mostly looked proud and impressed— but it still felt strange knowing they'd heard it all. Some of your bravery, it seemed, had faded once your desire was satisfied.
Already the trail of his seed was running down to almost your knees, and your dress wasn’t long enough to cover it; you figured by the time you made it back to your bed, everyone that you passed by would have some idea how you’d spent your morning.
But still, a smile was filling your face; you couldn’t stop thinking about one of the last things he’d said— to find him in his chambers at night if you wanted him again.
Even though you were still sore and exhausted, still leaking out his load, you knew you’d be taking him up on that offer sooner rather than later.