Page 6 of Forgive Me Father For I Have Sinned…7 Times

MIRIAM

Iwoke up feeling refreshed and sleeping on sheets so soft it felt like I was sleeping on a bed of the purest cotton. It was so soft and gentle against my skin, and I groaned quietly as I stretched and rolled over onto my stomach.

Wait.

Cotton? Bed?

How did I end up in a bed?

Last I remembered, I was in the confessional with Pastor James, confessing my sins. When I told Pastor James I suddenly felt sleepy, he strangely prompted me to give in.

Could it have been Pastor James? Did he do something to me?

Panic washed over me. If he did something to me, I didn’t feel it. There was a wall between us in the confessional, and before then, he had been on the second floor, watching me. He hadn’t been close enough to slip me anything or have me sniff something without my realising it.

But if Pastor James didn’t do something to me, then what happened?

How could I have fallen asleep and woken up here? Where even was here?

I shot up in bed, and my eyes widened as I stared back at myself. My reflection in the mirror. Except, I didn’t have a mirror opposite my bed.

I turned my head frantically, looking in every direction.

Mirrors, mirrors, and more mirrors.

The four walls of the room were covered in mirrors, and it felt like there were a million versions of me staring back at myself as I sat on the bed. Completely and utterly naked.

Naked?

Why was I naked?

Did Pastor James slip me something in the confessional and kidnap me to the house of mirrors?

“Where the fuck am I?” I cursed under my breath, threw the sheets off me and crawled out of the big bed. It was much bigger than my parents’ queen-sized bed, and it was a chore to crawl out of it. When my foot touched the floor, I yelped in surprise. The ground was freezing cold and when I looked down, I saw it was all mirror.

It wasn’t just the walls that were mirrors. The entire room–the walls, ceilings and entire floor–was one big mirror.

It was so strange to see myself from so many different angles. When I stared ahead, I saw my slender shoulders, perky boobs that were a little heavy for my otherwise petite frame with the slightest hint of curves, and my shaved mound. When I glanced to the left and right, the side angle of my boobs and ass looked great. My ass was on the smaller side, but I made up for it with all the short skirts in my wardrobe. When I glanced down, I could see up between my legs, and when I spread them, my clit slipped out from between my pussy lips to greet me.

I was hot, even if I did so myself.

With the bedsheet wrapped around me, I walked across the room, looking for a way out.

Nothing made sense right now, but hopefully, I would find some answers outside this room. If I ever made it out of this never-ending void of reflections, that was.

I paced the room several times, and when I glanced down, I could see the trail of my footprints showing my path. It looked and felt like I had covered every inch of the room, yet I still couldn’t find a way out.

“How the hell am I going to get out of here?” I huffed under my breath, squinting my eyes as I slowly looked around the room for the outline of a door or a protruding knob of a handle.

“Looking for a way out?” A deep, husky voice whispered in my ear, warm breath fanning across the back of my neck.

I jumped in surprise, but a pair of muscular arms wrapped around my waist from behind, pulling me back and flush against a hard, chiselled chest before I could attempt to escape.

My eyes moved up, and I stared at my captor in the mirror. His beautiful blonde hair fell in luscious waves, ending an inch or two above his shoulders. His green eyes were captivating, and his sharp jaw, button nose, and dark, fluffy brows made him look mesmerisingly angelic. The confident smirk offset it and added a rough edge to him which had my pussy clenching. I was below average in height at five-foot-three, but this man made me feel even shorter as the top of my head barely reached halfway up his chest.

I gulped at the mirth in his eyes as he smirked at me in the mirror. It was enough to send me reeling back to reality, and I gasped loudly. The seriousness of the situation–this strange yet drop-dead gorgeous man held me captive in a room full of mirrors–hit me, and I yelled for help and flailed about, trying to escape the arms of my kidnapper.

“Let go of me, you bastard!” I shrieked, digging my nails into his arms, but the man didn’t budge. He didn’t even cry out from the pain.

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