Page 55 of Daddy's Sinner

Just as I’m ready to deliver penance, the doors suddenly burst open, revealing Mrs. Taylor, the mother of one of the missing boys. She’s dressed in a simple gray gown, walking hand in hand with Sister Paloma. My little demon looks gorgeous as a nun.

“Father Michael,” Mrs. Taylor greets me warmly, “it’s good to see you. I was just telling Sister Paloma about the support group that meets here on Thursdays.”

Sister Paloma—or should I say my little demon—nods along, her eyes full of desire.Right now, I want nothing more than for the other women tobe gone, and for my little sinner to be on all fours as I take her like the whore she is.

“Yes, indeed. It’s a lovely initiative that our church has taken to support families like yours,” I reply, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within me.

Mrs. Taylor smiles, her eyes red-rimmed from her endless search for her son. I can sense the hope in her gaze, the trust in my clerical robes as the protector of innocence. But they are oblivious to the fact that this priest has his own secret mission to complete. Marisol chimes in, her voice warm and maternal. “It’s truly heartwarming to see how our church helps those in need.”

Fuck, it makes me hard to see her in action, my little sinner masquerading as a sister. A woman of faith. Little do they know that her only God is me and her religion is the twisted ritual of sin and salvation that we have become entwined in.

I hear Sarah sneak out of the confessional and away from us. Smart devil but sneaking away won’t be enough to save her from us completing our duty. To complete divine justice. My little demon must have smelled the evil bitch. Her eyes dart to the door as it closes behind Sarah while she comforts Mrs. Taylor, placing her hand on her shoulder, offering her a kind word and a shoulder to cry on.

But unbeknownst to her, I am plotting an altogether different type of comfort for this lost soul. “I’ve taken up much of your time, both of your time. I should get going. I still have Kylie to tend to.” Mrs. Taylor says Marisol smiles a sincere and caring smile that reaches her beautiful eyes.

“You are no bother to us; we are here to help. To comfort,” Marisol responds as she takes Mrs. Taylor’s hand.

“Like Sister Paloma said, you are no bother to us. The church is here to comfort you and the other parents.”

A small smile curls on her lips as she nods, wiping away the tears that fall from her eyes. “Thank you both for being an anchor in our small community. But I do have to get going.”

I nod. “Continue to pray and have faith that God will answer. You will get news soon, God delivers.” And he will deliver using us as his vessel of justice and penance. Truth be told, given what I know and how long it's been since he disappeared, her child is more likely to be dead, but I don’t say that. People need faith, to believe in something. They need faith and hope like a fiend needs drugs. Marisol smiles, “I'll walk out with you,” she says to Mrs. Taylor as she guides her to the door.

I watch the two women walk away from me, and I can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. My little sinner and I have been waiting for this moment for a long time, and now the stage is set. There is no going back now. Tonight, penance will be delivered. Sarah will meet her end. We will reveal our true selves to her soon enough. We will make her face her sins and save a few more lost souls from her treacherous path. But for now, it is time to let our plan unfold and let evil do its work.

Despite being lost in thought, I can’t help but watch Marisol’s perfect ass swaying in her nun’s habit. The lust for her burns hot, but I push it down. With the church busy with praying parents, I know I can’t have her right now. The door closes behind them, and the room falls silent once again. I let out a heavy sigh and rub my forehead, my gaze falling on the empty confessional.So close…I could have given that demon penance just now. And though I lack real emotion, I grieve for the parents of those missing boys. But I can offer them justice, though they will never know it. Yet as I get closer to delivering God’s work, I’m only excited by the thrill—the need to kill, to deliver penance.

However, my true desire right now lies in fucking my little sinner.All I crave is to have her kneel before me, to use my cock to deprive her of oxygen as I fuck her throat. The mere thought makes me groan with pleasure. I can envision her on her knees, praying while I cover her skin with my seed, forming a kind of perverse rosary. But before we canindulge in my little demon, I need a confession from Sarah. I need confirmation that she truly is the devil I believe her to be.

But I saw the rot in her eyes—Marisol can sense it too. Thankfully, the cops are as incompetent as ever. With the case seemingly unsolvable, it fell on us to bring her justice.Penance. That’s where we excel. Marisol has a knack for gathering information, and it didn’t take long for us to uncover Sarah’s dark secrets. To the outside world, she appears to be your typical southern belle with her dazzling smile, sparkling blue eyes, and golden locks. But beneath that facade of perfection lies a rotten core. Despite her sunny disposition and acts of kindness, Sarah is just as ruthless as us. That, I am sure of.

As I wait for Marisol to return, I busy myself with altar duties—lighting incense, replacing the bread. The smell of frankincense permeates the air, my hands continuing their methodical movements.

My eyes drift to the looming cross above the altar, and a sly grin spreads across my face. How thrilling it would be to defile sweet Marisol beneath God’s watchful gaze.

And oh, how God provides.

The church doors creak open, and a velvet voice begins reciting words of divinity. “Then, after desire has taken root, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it fully matures, leads to death.” My movements don’t stop as I look up to find Marisol locking the church door and drop to all fours… crawling toward me.I love it when she plays.

“You almost brought peace to that demon without me. Such a naughty priest,” she purrs, her voice a delicate blend of satire and sultriness. Her eyes glint with mischief, yet behind the playful facade, I can see the lethal precision that has become her trademark. She is a lioness in lambskin, as intriguing as she is enigmatic—my deadly little sinner.

“I just wanted to hear a confession, little demon. Just words,” I reply, my hands shifting from the bread to my cock. The smirk on her beautiful face widens, making the beauty marks on her lips more pronounced.

Her gaze drops to my hands, then slowly travels up to meet my eyes again. There’s a challenge in her stare—an invitation. One I'm more than willing to accept.

“Words can be more powerful than actions when delivered by the right person, Father,” she teases. I step away from the altar and take a seat on the step, watching as my little nun crawls toward my aching dick. The rings of light from the stained-glass windows dapple her form, creating a halo around her as she moves closer. The sight is intoxicating, a perfect representation of the sinful nature that lurks beneath layers of purity. Yet all I want to do is defile it.

And the look on her face tells me she’s counting on it. Her hands crawl up my pants, unbuttoning the fabric barrier with a deliberate slowness that’s maddening. Her fingers, delicate and precise, dance along the length of my arousal. The velvet of her gaze never leaves mine, provoking an inferno that thunders in my veins. I lean back on the steps, allowing the burning anticipation to build within me.

“Forgive me, Father… for I’m about to sin,” she whispers before licking the length of my shaft in a slow, languorous motion. Her tongue is hot and wet, and the sensation makes me shudder, a strangled gasp escaping my lips.

“God help me,” I murmur under my breath, my fingers digging into her scalp.

“God’s too busy watching,” she replies with a wicked grin. A smirk spreads across my face as I watch the sinful flicker in her eyes turn into the insatiable hunger that mirrors my own.

“Then you better give Him a show, Sister Paloma,” I say, slapping her face lightly.

Marisol chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that I fucking love. A sound that has become my favorite. “I always give a good show, Father Matheo,” she retorts before licking the precum that beads at the tip of my arousal. Her chocolate eyes never leave mine as she swirls her tongue around the crown. The sight of her veiled head bobbing over my cock is a blasphemy that would damn us to hell if we weren’t already there. I lean back to my side, using my elbow to rest on, as my free hand runs down her head.

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