Page 41 of Daddy's Sinner

Silence hangs heavy between us, so taut you could strum it, playing a melancholic melody. I can hear him holding his breath on the other side of the ornate lattice, hanging on my words as if they’re sacrilegious scripture.

“Have I shocked you, Father?” I whisper, my voice dripping with sin and satisfaction.

“Darling,” he pauses, his voice choked and strained. “These… These are dangerous words. We are in the house of our Lord. Little demon, are you sure this is what you want?”

“But I do, Father,” I interrupt him, a wicked grin playing on my lips. My heart throbs with anticipation, relishing the intoxicating blend of sin and devotion that laces our little game. “I need you, Matheo… I need the man, not the priest. I need to feel the warm, salty cum filling my mouth, not the wine that symbolizes His blood. To taste your true essence, not the wafer that represents His flesh. I have a hunger for you that no Holy Communion could ever satisfy.”

An agonized groan spills from Matheo, his resolve crumbling under the weight of my sinful desires. “Darling, beg… beg for me to fuck that sinful, wicked mouth of yours,” he says, his voice heavy with desire.

“Matheo,” I breathe, my voice barely discernible, a mere thread of sound strung between us like a lifeline. A slow smile spreads across my lips as I taste the sweet victory of his surrender. “I beg you, Father… take what you desire from me.”

His breath hitches, and I hear him undo his belt, the metallic sound echoing loud and clear in the quiet of the confessional. I hear the shuffling of fabric, a stifled moan, and suddenly, the confessional feels ten degrees warmer. “Kneel, little sinner, and open that pretty mouth for your God.” His voice, husky and filled with a powerful intensity, echoes through the space between us. I comply obediently, a soft sigh escaping my lips as I sink to my knees. My heart pounds fiercely in my chest, a symphony of desire and anticipation that consumes me.

“I am ready, Matheo…” I whisper as he opens the lattice, and I am engulfed in the warm, spicy scent of him. He draws a shuddering breath, his eyes dark with an insatiable longing that mirrors my own. His hand, rough from years of labor, reaches out to cradle my face, tracing my lips with a trembling thumb.

“Please your God, darling, choke on it.” He says, and I intend to. Sticking out my tongue out like a good girl, waiting for my reward. That’s when I feel his warm spit land on my tongue. I close my eyes savoring the taste of him. The raw, carnal act is a clear indication of his surrender. A surge of adrenaline courses through my veins, and I can’t help but revel in the power I hold over him, a man of God.

“Good girl,” he mutters before he fills my mouth with his thick, delicious cock. I whimper, taking him as deep as I can, my hands reaching up to clutch at his priestly robes. Both of my hands trace the contour of hiships, and the feeling of his stomach flexing under my touch sends a shiver down my spine. His taste fills my senses, intoxicating me as the sound of his contented moans fills the room. Matheo’s grip on my hair tightens as he guides me in an unholy rhythm. He fucks my mouth like the demon he is, hard and fast, unrestrained. The rhythm of his movement's echoes in my heartbeat, driving me to the edge of pleasure and just beyond. His hands tangle in my hair, pulling gently as he sets the foundation for a blasphemous dance that leaves me gasping for breath. My world narrows to the rhythmic pounding in my throat. I surrender completely to his sinful desires. My nails dig into the fabric of his robe, my hands gripping the material tightly as if it were my only lifeline. His pace picks up steadily, his breath coming in ragged pants mixed with strangled moans of pleasure.

His cock throbs in my mouth, and I moan as I slide my hands to that part of me that aches the most, and this time it’s not my chest but lower. “No… you’re not allowed to cum, not until I make you beg,” he groans as he shoves his cock so deep, I can feel it slide down my throat. I choke a muffled groan around him, my eyes rolling back in pleasure as he takes complete control. His words are a command, a rule I am bound to obey, and it strikes a chord within me, deep and primal. My fingers twitch against the damp heat building between my thighs but don’t move further. He pulls back just as my vision starts to blur, releasing me from the iron grip he has around my hair. Droplets of his arousal linger on my lips, and I’m quick to lick them up, a small smile playing on my lips at his sharp intake of breath. He’s panting heavily now. “Come ride me and this cock into damnation,” he rasps, his voice rough and filled with carnal lust.

I comply without a moment’s hesitation, rising from the cold wooden floor and walking over to his side of the confessional booth, where he waits with his exposed cock from his pants and his bare chest. I drink in the sight of him, his muscular form. The scars and all the religious tattoos that cover his chest and arms. But it’s the big gothic “sinner” tattoo across his chest that does me in.

His hands guide me, firm and unyielding, forcing me onto his lap. He positions himself at my entrance, and I let out a breathy gasp as he slips my panties to the side and fills me to the hilt.

My moan echoes off the church walls, bringing a wolfish smile to his lips. He stares into my eyes as he starts to move, slow and deep, every thrust sending ripples of pleasure coursing through my body. His touch is like a brand, searing into my flesh. Matheo’s hands wrap around my neck as he lifts us up and slams my back onto the wooden bench. His movements don’t falter; instead, they become more passionate. His hands tighten around my neck, and I see stars from the lack of oxygen, but I don’t care. The ecstasy he brings me is worth the fleeting discomfort. His eyes are a storm, filled with raw need and primal dominance. Yet underneath that, there’s a softness, a tender affection meant only for me.

One of his hands trails down my body, tracing the curves of my ass. He uses the wetness of my cunt to lubricate his wandering fingers as they explore each crevice. His touch is rough but reverent, like he’s worshiping a holy relic. My body trembles against him, the sensation of his fingers combined with the thick girth of him stretching me open almost too much to bear. His hands tighten even more as his fingers play with my back hole. I am filled with him, and it feels as if I am on the brink of bursting from the fullness of his touch—a sacred, intimate connection that has my body screaming for more.

“You needy little demon,” he moans as he slows his pace and crashes his lips onto mine, robbing me of oxygen. I think I’m dying.

But he pulls away just in time, allowing me to gasp for breath before claiming my lips once more. My hands claw at his muscular back, and I picture each swipe leaving a trail of red lines on his tanned skin. I revel in the sting of his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of my neck, where he leaves a mark. I’m sure the Prophet will not take this well, but I don’t care at the moment, lost as I am in the pleasure and pain that only Matheo can give me.

The muscles in my inner thighs burn from holding him so tightly, but it’s nothing compared to the heat igniting within me, stoked by every torturous thrust he makes.

The pleasure that courses through me is divine, sinful, and deliciously decadent, a sensation that wraps around my body like a heated blanket of euphoria. I don’t want it to end. His thrusts grow more erratic, each one driving deeper, his breathing hot and ragged in my ear. The friction of his skin against mine sends sparks of electric heat through my veins, and I can feel his heart pounding wildly against my chest, a desperate, urgent rhythm that mirrors the frantic beat of my own.

His voice, strained and thick with desire, breaks through the haze of pleasure. “What have you done to me?” He groans, his words laced with both awe and desperation as he stills inside me. The sensation of fullness is overwhelming, the way he fills me completely almost too much to bear. We stay locked in place, our eyes on each other’s, a silent conversation passing between us—a connection that goes beyond the physical, seeping into something deeper, more primal.

My body trembles as the tension builds, winding tighter and tighter until it’s ready to snap. His muscles tense, his hands grip my hips with a possessive force, and suddenly, I feel a flood of warmth and release—a rush of ecstasy that starts low in my belly and radiates outward, crashing over me like a tidal wave. My toes curl, my back arches, and a low, guttural moan escapes my lips as the orgasm tears through me, intense and all-consuming.

The feeling is mutual, I can tell—his grip tightens even more, and his breath catches as he lets out a deep, primal growl. He’s coming undone inside me, releasing everything with a powerful, shuddering force. The sensation of him pulsing inside me, combined with the raw, intimate connection between us, pushes me to the edge and beyond.

Something snaps into place inside me, a feeling of completeness, as if this moment has awakened a part of me I never knew existed. An unfamiliar warmth spreads through my chest, mingling with theaftershocks of pleasure still rippling through my body. We both reach that peak together, and it’s nothing short of fucking divine—our bodies trembling, hearts racing, as we ride out the waves of our mutual climax. We’re lost in each other, in the sheer, blissful satisfaction of it all.

I feel his lips move against my neck. “You are driving me mad, darling,” he whispers, making me smile as I wrap my arms around his neck and bring him closer. The act is so unfamiliar but welcoming. “I’m yours, so let me continue to drive you mad. You can learn all about me.”

With a hearty laugh, he pulls himself up from my body, his muscular frame towering over me. His dark eyes are alight with something I can’t quite discern, but it makes my heart pound in my chest. “Mine. I like the sound of that. Of everything. I want to learn everything about you little demon,” he says in a husky voice that vibrates deliciously through him.

Sinner

Iwatch her pretty brown eyes light up as we walk through the woods, sneaking around prying eyes just to steal a few more moments together. I want to learn everything I can about her, but mostly, I want to know if she’s worth saving. Is her soul untainted by the devil’s word? And I won’t lie—I want to take my time ravaging her. Given that she came to me and isn’t rushing to leave, I can assume my time is up. My beautiful angel of death is luring me to my certain end, but this is the real test.

And mine. Failing means death for me, so I have to trust that I’ve become adept enough to discern the truth from the false, the innocent from the guilty. Am I wise enough to see beyond her angelic facade and into the depths of her soul? Can I keep myself from falling victim to her enchanting trap? Or am I already too ensnared—ensnared by the way her lips move on my cock, the silky smooth feel of her caramel skin against my rough, calloused hands, the intoxicating scent of her lingering on my clothes, in my church, within me? Each interaction feels like a dance, a deadly pas de deux between the spider and the fly.

But the more time we spend together, the more I realize my existence is becoming her reflection. The mere thought of releasing myself from her grasp feels like losing a part of me. She tugs me along towards the sound of running water. “Here.” Marisol stops in front of the stream and turns to me. “This is the spot I run to when I want to paint or read. Or escape.” She inhales deeply as she looks at the water. Fuck, is she beautiful. “This spot is close enough to my house that I can sneak away without raising any alarm,” she whispers.

She sits down on a mossy stone, her dress pooling around her as she dips her fingers in the clear, cool water. I join her, taking in the sight of her as she gazes across the shimmering surface, her dark curls falling around her. “It’s beautiful… peaceful.”

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