Page 20 of Praise Me: Priest

Now, Monsignor Hannibal has fallen asleep, his snores filling the small bedroom and there is nothing that can stop me from taking her. Not the prospect of being defrocked. Not my determination to be a good, pious man. Nothing stands up to the velvet dampness of her pussy, so ready for a man’s seed. When I woke up two mornings ago, I was born to serve the lord. Here in the near darkness, my sole mission is plying my tight girl with sperm.

Fuck her.

Sweat breaks out along my hairline, my willpower attempting to wrestle back control, but then she shifts an inch against my dripping prick, and I moan silently into the air above her head. She is tempting me. She is breaking me. And in the demented heat of extreme arousal, I forget she’s a delicate, vulnerable girl. I forget that I’m supposed to be the one who treats her better than everyone else. The chains glint in the firelight and she becomes a vessel of relief for my pain. An offering for the gnashing beast that has been subdued for far too long inside of me.

Fuck her.

My left hand moves on its own, molding the front of her throat. Her surprised intake of breath only excites me more, God help me. My right hand slides beneath her hip, further around the front to her drenched cunt, squeezing two fingers into her damnably tight slit, pushing, pushing until I’ve filled her and she’s pulsing around my knuckles.

Oh, sweet Jesus. No wonder sins of the flesh exist. Men are doomed. Especially me, because I have the greatest gift of all. A beautiful, horny redhead trapped in my bed, her desire evident in my palm. Her need on full display.

“He does make a good point,” I manage, slipping my fingers free of her sex and lightly teasing her swollen bud with my middle finger, circling it until she starts to sob and squirm, smearing her wetness in my lap. “Idowant to breed a chained-up virgin,” I admit, my tone gravelly. I slap that part of her that teases me to the edge. I slap and slap and slap her bratty cunt out of punishment, then twist it in my grip. “This one.”

“Y-you’re going to breed me?” she whispers.

Her question shouldn’t anger me, but I’m not myself. The overcome man I am right now in the darkness is only incited. A bull being shown a red flag. “You soak my dick for an hour in sticky temptation, then act surprised when I prepare to use it?”

I sense her shiver is from excitement, not fear. “N-no, I just…”

My fingers push deeper into the tight recesses of her, a low rumble compelled from inside me when I find the deeper I go, the snugger she gets. “This is at my service now.”

She takes two whimpering breaths. “Yes it is, Daddy.”

That title is a flame being thrown into a trunk of explosives. Yet somehow, I maintain the wherewithal to remember we’re not alone. The monsignor is asleep in front of the fire, his head tipped back, mouth open and snoring.

“Turn over on your back,” I say in a low voice, keeping one eye trained on the other man. “You’re going to hold still and stay very quiet while I rut you.”

Farrah whispers a soft yes and rolls over, my heart tugging hard when I see her angelic face in the dying firelight, her eyes wide and innocent, wrists wrapped in chains over her head. That imagine should be enough to rouse my decency, but it doesn’t. My baser urges are in control now and itlikeshaving a captive.

A young body to ravage.

And she arches her back while I look, teeth leaving dents on her bottom lip.

She wants to be filled. She wants to be conquered.

That’s what my gut tells me, and I have no choice but to listen, because my balls are on the verge of an exodus as I position myself between her legs, my cock arrowed toward that shiny place of no return, the red hair at her juncture wet and plastered to her mound, her wet flesh twinkling in the firelight. Beckoning me closer…and I go with a prolonged grunt of agony. I flatten her, my eagerness causing the chains to rattle lightly, one hand between my thighs to guide my painfully engorged shaft to her entrance, wincing in horrible ecstasy as I rub it there, coating my tip in her juices.

“Remember. Hold still and keep your mouth shut.”

She nods like a good girl, opening her thighs another degree.

Oh God.

Who sent this girl to break me?

I press my sex into the breach and thrust my hips forward, the bed creaking loudly, so loudly, beneath me. I shout a silent curse up at the ceiling, half enraged by the bed’s traitorous nature, half in shock by the sensation of her virgin cunt accepting me with only a thin tear of resistance, drawing me in and rippling around me, sending warm shockwaves to my balls. Farrah looks up at me in glazed wonder, flexing herself, reveling in the feel of me inside of her, her delicious body writhing, reveling, mouth open on a silent moan.

I release the bunched muscles of my ass, drawing my cock out.

Both of us watching the steel trunk of me exit her body, carrying with it a tint of blood, before pounding back in, her eyes shooting satisfyingly wide, her cunt making a wet squish sound—

That is only slightly drowned out by the squeak of the faulty bedspring.

“Goddammit,” I grit through my teeth, needing badly to fuck her brains out without any interference or distractions. Or obstacles that might wake the sleeping monsignor. There’s no stopping, though. Lord knows there’s no stopping when she’s this hot, this horny, her thighs spread in welcome. In need of my length and the seed it will provide her. Soon. Too soon, if my twisting spine is any indication. This might be my first time inside of my woman, but I find it hard to believe a man could last long in something so perfect.

I find that if I move only my hips in quick, short pumps, the bed doesn’t squeak quite as much, so I do that. I squeeze out and rejoin with her body with quick flexes of my hips—and her wrists pulling the chains taut, her knees jerking wildly, tells me she likes that.

“Please,” she whispers. “Don’t stop.”

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