Page 18 of Spies Like Us

“Why don’t you tell me about the last thing you did you were ashamed of?” I kind of want to gag about how creepy this is, but I don’t know if he can see me. I start to chew on one of my nails instead.

“Well, um, I kind of let my history teacher bend me over his desk and fuck me. I also got down on my knees and sucked the bartender’s dick at the Life Lounge so I could get a job.”

There’s an awkward silence. “Anything else?” the pastor presses, and I fidget a little before sticking my hands under my thighs and sitting on them, kicking my feet back and forth.

“Um, I had a foursome with three of the guys from my school at a party that I went to. I snuck out from my foster home.” I hope this doesn’t blow up in my face and he tells Martha I’ve been sneaking out.

“Oh, and what kind of things did you do during the foursome?” The pastor is breathing a little harder, and I can see movement through the mesh of the confessional. Although I can’t make out features, I can see the shadow of his actions, and it looks like he’s stroking his cock. Gross.

“Well, I let them fuck my pussy and my ass while I sucked the last one’s cock,” I tell him in a fake whisper.

“And did you let them fill you with their seed?” he asks, and I nod.

“Yes, I was dripping at the end.” If there’s something I know how to do, it’s getting dirty old men riled up.

“And how did it make you feel?” he asks, and I shrug.

“I liked it. I like sex if I get orgasms, and they made sure I had them. Is that a sin, Father?” I ask, and I hear an exhalation of air.

“Well, I should probably ask a couple more questions so I can establish this correctly.” Fuck me, he must have some idiot parishioners. I can’t believe he thinks I’m that dumb, but I am a foster kid, so maybe he thinks we’re all dumb and needy. “Do you touch yourself?”

“Yeah, I do. It feels good, so why shouldn’t I?”

“Well, you should be saving yourself for your future husband. Maybe if you showed me how you touch yourself, I could tell you if it’s a sin or not.”

Fucking hell, it’s all I can do not to screw up my nose. What a fucking creep. I really don’t want to touch myself in here. I bet there’s a camera. “Can you see me?” I ask, looking around the booth for a camera, and sure enough, up in the corner, a red light flashes. I’ll have to get Lathan to erase all the footage once we break this ring.

“God can see you, and he will be judging,” is his response.

Fuck! I reach my hand under my dress and pretend like I’m touching myself, sliding my other hand up to caress my breast.

“God can’t see through material,” the pastor says huskily, his breathing heavier.

Ugh. I drop my hand from my breast and lift the hem of my dress, drawing it back, and at the same time, I shove my hand into my panties, and continue miming touching myself.

“Remove your panties so God can fully see your sins.”

I shake my head and start to remove my hand. “I don’t know about this,” I start, but the pastor interrupts me.

“Do you want to go to hell, Mackenzie?” So much for anonymous confession. “Shall I tell Martha about everything you’ve been doing so she can ensure you can’t leave the house to commit more sins?” he snaps.

“No, please don’t, I need the money from my job,” I beg, forcing tears into my voice when all I want to do is choke the life out of this pervert.

“Well then, I suggest you show God how you touch yourself. Take your panties off, pull that dress up, and make sure your legs are fully spread.”

If this pastor isn’t involved in the sex trafficking ring, I will retire from MITHOS altogether. Shaking with fury, which I hope he thinks is fright, I slide my panties down my thighs and calves, kicking them off when they get to my boots. I spread my legs and lick my finger before running it over my clit, playing with the little ring in the hood a bit. I am not turned on in the least, so the spit is going to have to give me a bit of lube while I fake my way through this.

I close my eyes and rest my head back, and I can hear the pastor’s breathing increase. I’m almost positive he’s jacking himself off in there.

Before I can start to ramp up my act, I hear a little knock. It’s on the pastor’s side of the confessional. “Daniel, honey. The Turner boys have just reported one of their friends missing. They could probably use some divine support right now.”

“Fucking interfering bitch,” I hear him curse quietly under his breath. Louder, he calls, “I’ll be there in a moment, honey.”

“I’ll wait for you,” I hear her say, and I smother the smile that wants to cross my lips. I have a feeling maybe Melissa isn’t as naïve about what happens in these confessionals as Daniel thinks.

There’s a rustling sound like he just stuffed himself back into his pants before he says,

“Ah, um, we will have to continue this at next week’s church meeting. In the meantime, you should pray hard to God and ask him for his divine forgiveness for your wicked thoughts and deeds. You are a sinner, child, and I am not sure that there’s anything good to come of your life. I believe you belong to the devil now, but maybe if you pray, God will hear your prayers and send you guidance.” I hear him exit the booth.

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