Page 40 of Of Heathens & Havoc

And maybe, in some way, it’s to atone for my own sins—my own form of self-flagellation for the commandments I’ve broken.

Thou shalt not kill.

Honor thy father and thy mother.

Thou shalt not covet…

I tear my eyes from her legs, primly crossed at the ankles, her skirt pulled down over her knees, which only makes me want to push it up and reveal what’s hidden—

Forgive me my sins.

I stride to the front of the room and hit the button on the controller, moving to the next slide in my lecture. I don’t look at her legs again, her delicate fingers and slender wrists, the red marks on them peeking out from under her sleaves.

This is the reason I’ve taken the vow. I’m around impressionable, attractive young men and women all day. The only women besides students are the sisters, and it’s no different with them. I wouldn’t want to be blinded by my own desires and inadvertently use my power as a priest to influence someone’sdecision, whether it was a nun or a student. Any relationship inside this school, this parish, would be highly inappropriate.

I know that, and yet…

Unbidden images invade my thoughts as I pace the room, speaking to my students, my flock. One little lamb stands out.

Long, ginger-gold hair falling around her shoulders today. Eyes like the sky over the Garden of Eden, like Eve’s before the fall. The trusting eyes of my little lamb. Long, muscular thighs and calves, their alluring shape only hinted at through her opaque white socks that end just at the knee. That edge is bared when she stands, the cloaking garment begging to be slid down to her slender ankles, baring their ivory skin to be kissed, bitten, until they bloom with tender red bruises.

I’m relieved when class ends and the students file out. I need some time alone to pray.

Only when they’re gone do I remember I asked her to stay after class.

Under my breath, I curse myself for that moment of weakness. A moment when I was no doubt picturing her on her knees besides my desk, her sweet bare feet tucked under her and her little ass resting on them as she looked up at me while those big, blue eyes, as innocent as a lamb.

Not something I should be thinking about any student, let alone this one.

I clear my throat and sit down behind my heavy walnut desk, deciding it’s safer than facing her with nothing between us but a few paces, a few layers of clothing too easily shed…

My lamb sits in her own desk, fiddling with the colored pens that she always lays out in a row beside her notebook, taking notes the old-fashioned way instead of on her laptop. Just one more mystery about this student I shouldn’t want to unravel, to uncover the way I want to push her skirt up her thighs, uncovering her little white panties…

“You… Wanted to see me, Father?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say, adjusting myself discretely under the desk before straightening. “I notice you’re wearing your hair down today.”

“Yes, Father,” she says, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Is—is that against dress code?”

I give her a reassuring smile. “No, Miss Soules. It’s not.”

She licks her lips nervously, and it’s all I can do not to close my eyes and picture that little pink tongue flicking over the tip of my engorged cock, those naturally red lips stretched wide as she takes my girth, her eyes bulging and tears trickling down her cheeks. I could teach my lamb a different kind of lesson, one she’d never forget. A lesson in sin and corruption, on how to take a man deep, swallow his seed like an obedient servant of God.

Except I don’t want her to serve another, not even God. I want her to serve me alone.

On her knees every night, on her back with her creamy thighs open, her slick red cunt sucking me in greedily as I own every inch of my little lamb.

I realize I’ve been staring too long, the way I’ve wanted to for weeks, drinking her in for minutes at a time instead of letting my eyes skim over her like she’s any other student. Since the first day of classes, when I recognized that sweet, soft voice from the girl in the booth, who confessed her wanton desires in the tremulous, faltering manner of a novice.

“Can I ask why?” I venture, when the tension in the air is crackling almost audibly as we stare at each other.

“I…”

Her cheeks flush darker.

“Come here, lamb,” I say, my voice dropping an octave without intent.

She swallows and slides from her desk, dread evident in every step as she approaches. She stops in front of the desk,pressing her hands to the outside of her thighs the way she did climbing the stairs before class. I think I blacked out for a moment climbing them after her, seeing the irresistible tease of her skirt rising to show a peek of her bare knees rubbing together with each step. That’s the only explanation for why I have no memory of why I asked her to stay.

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