“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.”

“How long has it been since your last confession, my child?”

Kelly clenched a little at hearing Father Ambrose call her his child. Of all the priests in the parish, he was the one she least wanted to disappoint. Tall and thin with gray eyes, he presided over every conversation with a sort of piercing severity that made her unsteady. His low, gravel voice was unmistakable through the confessional screen.

“I— I don’t. I have desecrated myself. I’m just— dirty.”

“It’s okay, child. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Tell me what you’ve done.”

“I’ve— I have— I like someone, Father.”

“Liking someone isn’t a sin.”

“But I— we have— our relationship is forbidden. Please don’t make me tell everything.”

“Your soul will bear the stain until you let me clean you, child.”

Kelly shivered a little at the words “let me clean you,” breathed deep and began. 

“Well, I’ve noticed this…person for a long time. He’s my age— Um— mid-thirties, with the softest brown eyes and dimples when he smiles at me. I’ve always felt— that is, since he came to our— community, I’ve felt that he’s a person I can confide in.”

“You know him from work?”

“From church, Father.”

“I see.”

“When my grandmother died last year, he was very helpful. He checked on me. And besides his gentleness, I was also drawn to— I was attracted to him. Physically. His arms under his shirt and his broad shoulders and neck under his collar. I mean— I just mean he’s in good shape and I— I noticed.”

“There’s nothing wrong with noticing. You’re healthy, attractive young people.”

For the first time since she sat down in the dim confessional, Kelly peered through the screen. Had Father Ambrose just called her attractive?

“Yes...um…but it’s more than that. I noticed his...his body.”

“Child, if I am to understand the condition of your heart, you’ll have to be frank. Talk to me like a peer. I’m just here to—”

“His cock. I noticed his cock.” Kelly squeezed her eyes shut as if wincing in pain.

“You saw him naked?”

“No. Well, not when...I noticed his crotch when he served me.”

“He’s a server? Like at a restaurant?”

“No, Father. At church. He was helping prepare the Eucharist and when he stood in front of me at the rail, I saw the shape of his manhood in his pants. It was long and thick and it reached down his pant leg. I’m not sure he was wearing underwear.”

Father Ambrose seemed to shift in his seat.

“He’s a good man, Father. And very learned. And I’m an eager learner. You know, if I were a man, I would have wanted to study for the priesthood. And he said he would show me things. 

“He assigned reading. Really difficult but fascinating reading from Augustine and Anselm and John Paul. We met often at a coffee shop where there’s a table in the corner. We spread out our books and stayed for hours. 

“He’s a brilliant thinker. His mind is intoxicating. And he’s a patient teacher. He hardly ever scolds. Only when I truly need it.

“I’m— I’m saying that I’m attracted to his mind and his soul, and not just his body, Father. I hope that counts for something.”

Father Ambrose seemed to be leaning toward the screen. All he said was, “Continue.”

“We started to meet every day, leaning over books together, his heavy shoulder against my slender one. He put his hand on my hand, guiding me to the truth. And he patted my shoulder when I read ahead or did extra work. The pats on my shoulder became rubs on the back, or on my knee. It gave me such a feeling— like a blessing. 

“I became a seductress. I wore more makeup to call attention to my green eyes. I did my red hair in big loops that fell over my chest. I wore shorter skirts. Tops that showed my curves. And I stopped wearing bras and panties.

“And then one day we were studying a long, meaty passage from Ignatius of Antioch when, for the first time, he seemed to lose interest in theology and his hand moved from my knee up my thigh. 

“My heart shot forward in an acceleration that felt dangerous, like a seizure of intense desire. I closed my eyes and whispered, ‘Yes’ and felt him arrive at my inmost being. 

“When I opened my eyes he was looking softly at my face, a look of admiration. His fingers danced under my skirt, caressing and exploring me. 

“I looked around to see if anyone had noticed. The coffee shop was half full of customers, but no one seemed to realize the holy moment happening at the corner table. I touched his face and told him I wanted to kiss him. ‘We can’t’ he said and penetrated me deeper. I closed my eyes and gasped and my hand dropped from his chin and caught on his collar and pulled it off.”

“His…collar came off?”

“The white part you tuck in. Yes.”

“It’s a priest then.” Father Ambrose didn’t seem surprised. “Mid-thirties, fit, with brown eyes.” There was only one young priest who fit that description.

“Yes, Father. But don’t think less of him. He has blessed me. I’m the one who should not have tempted him. I’m a Jezebel.”

“Did it go farther?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Tell me.”

There was a soft sound from the priest’s side of the screen. Fabric moving.

“Christmas Eve. I had intended to come to midnight mass but fell asleep. By the time I got to the church, the last few people were filing out. I approached as the last old lady to leave smiled at him and touched his face in a grandmotherly way and told him he was handsome. I bit my lip. 

“He smiled at me, blushed and kept collecting the elements to put away. I could see his duty waging war with his desire. It was his desire that made him look at my body — the curves of my breasts, the arc of my waist, the hem of my skirt much too short for a cold night. 

“I apologized for missing mass and asked him if he would serve the host to me — my own private communion. He took a deep breath, still looking at my breasts. Then he said, ‘Kneel.’

“I knelt there on the altar in front of him, looking up at him devotedly. Then—”

Kelly broke off. She heard another shuffling sound from Father Ambrose. She waited. 

“Continue, child.”

“It’s lewd, Father. Sordid. Must I tell you?”

“Every detail.” Father Ambrose sounded slightly out of breath.

“He reached down and put one hand on my jaw, admiring my pleading green eyes and my ardent heart. 

“Then he quickly pulled aside his vestments and unzipped his pants. His manhood was just as long and shapely as I had imagined it. I looked up at him. He was so broad and imposing, yet so caring and shepherding. His shape obscured the golden crucifix shining on the wall behind him. He said, ‘Receive my body.’

“I opened my mouth and he placed his member on my tongue. It was like honey — smooth and sweet and perfect. I caressed him, kissed him, bowed my head over and over as I felt his ardor growing. 

“I wanted all of him inside me. Deep in my body. In every opening. I knew I was giving myself over to evil, but I didn’t care.

“As I made my unholy offering, he gasped and shuddered. I sucked him faster. I wanted his righteous seed. I could taste it in the back of my throat. 

“And then he threw back his head in ecstatic utterance and released the oil of blessing. He spurted again and again and I slurped and sucked and licked, not wanting to let a single drop escape. 

“When he had finished, I looked up at him, with his semen on my chin, and licked my lips. 

“He made the sign of the cross over my cum-soaked face and then hid himself.”

Kelly heard more shuffling and what sounded like a sigh from the other side of the screen. The silhouette of Father Ambrose’s head was shaking. 

“Father? I am very sorry, Father. I have corrupted a priest.”

“That’s— ahem— What you have confessed is a serious sin.”

“I know, Father.”

“You must purify yourself.”

Kelly hesitated. “How?”

“Take off your panties.”

“Father?”

“Trust me. This is deep and intimate penance for deep and intimate sin.”

Kelly did as she was told, slipping her lacy panties out from under her pleated skirt. She felt the hard wood of the confessional bench on her bare bottom.

“Your feminine desires come from your feminine body. I must touch— ahem— you must touch the most feminine parts of yourself.”

“You want me to touch my pussy, Father?”

“Yes. I want that very much.”

Kelly’s breath caught. She had suspected his arousal - had fed it with the detailed description of her sexual experiences - but now Father Ambrose seemed to have abandoned all pretense. 

“Yes Father. My finger is in my pussy now.” She gave a little gasp. “It feels good.”

“Now rub your clit.”

It was dizzying to hear Father Ambrose use the word clit. She whispered, “Yes, Father,” and touched her most tender place.

“How do you feel?”

“Fuck, it feels so good. Is this what you want, Father? Is this my penance?”

There was a pause and then… “Do you have a rosary?”

“Yes,” Kelly slowed her rubbing, confused.

“Put two beads inside you.”

“Father, are you sure?”

“Do as I say.”

The beads slid in easily and Kelly kept rubbing her clit. It felt depraved and satisfying to be filled this way. Like it felt to be filled with a priest’s finger in a coffee shop, or a priest’s cock at the altar. 

Kelly’s nerves seemed to stand on end. She felt dizzy and enveloped in warmth, the confessional now choked with her vice. 

“Two more beads.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Two more.”

“Yes, Father.”

At her confessor’s command, Kelly stuffed her sinful gash with half a rosary. The rest dangled out of her, swinging below the little bench and tapping against it as she pleasured herself. Her heart raced. Her toes curled. And her juices dripped down the rosary. 

“Oh Father!”

“You must bathe the beads in your desire. Give over to it.”

“I’m— Oh Father!” She was no longer whispering. She was squeaking. Gasping. Her legs shook. The rosary swung beneath her, its weight pulling fluid and sin out of her craven cunt. “I’m cumming!”

“Cum, my child.”

Father Ambrose’s masculine whisper vaulted Kelly into a sort of orgasmic transfiguration. Her womb glowed with energy and light. She seemed to levitate off the confessional bench and she shrieked in angelic ecstasy. She came hard and the rosary slipped free and fell to the floor in a puddle of her juices and she heaved a deep sigh of satisfaction. 

Through the screen, she heard a parallel sigh. She smiled and gently traced a finger over her pubic mound. 

“Am I forgiven?”

“You have done well, child.”

“But what if I continue to have these desires, Father?”

“Each time you fall, you must come back to me. I’m here to help.”

“Yes, Father.”

When Kelly emerged from the confessional, after cleaning up as best she could, she saw a middle-aged woman seated in a pew near the back of the church. The woman looked at her with stern surprise.

Father Ambrose emerged from his side of the booth. He looked serene, holy and masculine. The woman stood and approached the booth. 

“Hello Maggie,” the priest said, without any hint of concern. “We’ve just had an exorcism, you’ll be happy to know.”

The woman’s shock turned to pity as she looked at Kelly, then back to Ambrose. “Bless you Father. You take such good care of our flock.”