by Freya Kane
Another sharp smack across my left thigh.
“-adveniat regmun tuum-”
Over to my right thigh.
“fiat voluntas tua, sicut in coleo et in terra.”
Two quick slashes across the middle of my ass.
“Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie-”
I couldn’t hold back a whimper as the ruler slapped the fleshy curve of my ass.
“-et dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris.”
I tried to finish the prayer more quickly but my voice faltered and I stumbled over the words. I had no doubt he would make me start again if I made mistakes so I forced myself to slow down as the blows fell like rain across my body.
“Et ne nos inducas in tentationem sed libera nos a malo.”
The ruler slid between my thighs slapped upwards, stinging across my slick pussy as I finished the last word, “Amen!”
“That was very good.” I turned around to see him unfastening the buttons on his shirt and removing his collar. “Excellent pronunciation.” He dropped the shirt onto the ground and I was able to finally see his body.
Father Collins had a body that would have been wasted on any other priest. His chest looked like it was carved out of tanned marble, and perfect six pack abs were bisected by a line of golden hair that disappeared into his black pants. His hand cupped the swollen bulge that strained the zipper and he slowly stroked himself.
“Such a lustful little whore,” he said, inching the zipper down. He freed his cock and then continued that slow stroke. “There’s nothing you wouldn’t let me do to you right now, is there?” I shook my head, not trusting my voice. “No hole in your body where you wouldn’t let me put this. You’re absolutely dripping right now. I can smell it from here.”
He was right. Our combined juices from earlier covered my thighs and every stroke of those perfect hands on that perfect cock only made me wetter. An hour ago I was a virgin, and now I wanted nothing more than to feel Father Collins fuck me until I couldn’t walk.
“Turn back around,” he ordered, and I complied. The skirt went back up, and something about the two of us still being mostly dressed made this feel more illicit, if that was even possible. He ran his hands across the two globes of my ass, the feather light touches on my bruised flesh making me whimper in equal parts pain and pleasure. “Such a pretty shade of red.” He pulled his right hand back and brought the full force of his palm down. The loud smack nearly echoed in the quiet room. “Tomorrow it will be an even prettier shade of purple.”
“What about protection?” I stammered. “I don’t want to get pregnant.”
Father Collins’ gaze darkened, and another hard smack on my ass made me jump. “A bit late to be worrying about that now, isn’t it? My come is already inside you, and I have no doubt the seed will take hold. Think of what everyone will see when you come into church with a swollen belly. They’ll all know what a sinner you are.”
Without another word, he pushed his cock inside of my aching pussy. My sore passage was still unused to being fucked at all, let alone with this much vigor, but I was so wet and swollen and achingly close to orgasm that I didn't even notice the pain. Every stroke of his cock stretching my inner walls and his hips rubbing against my bruised ass just melted into a blur of pleasurepainpleasure.
He was holding my hips tightly as he pistoned in and out, and I knew I’d have finger shaped bruises on my hips to add to the collection I was building.
The pressure was mounting inside of me again. I had been trembling on the edge of orgasm since he first touched me, and I knew it would take very little to push me over that edge.
“Please, Father Collins,” I said. “Please let me come.”
In an instant he had pulled out of me and spun me around, pushing me to my knees before I understood what was happening.
“You haven’t earned it yet.” He tangled his fingers in my hair and pulled my head downward. I opened my mouth as wide as I was able, but I still struggled to take it all in. He began a merciless rhythm as he fucked my mouth. I choked and tears sprung to my eyes as I tried to breathe around the thick length in my mouth. The head was pressing into the back of my throat, and I fought back my gag reflex.
I pulled back slightly and his hold on my hair loosened. His cock slipped out of my mouth and I licked my way down the shaft until I reached his balls. Opening my mouth wide again I slipped one inside and hummed softly. His fingers tightened painfully in my hair as I switched to the other side, humming tunelessly before kissing and licking my way back up the shaft.
On my knees on an unforgiving stone floor, staring at the throbbing cock of an equally unforgiving priest, I decided to go for it all. Relaxing my throat as much as I could, I took him in and kept going until my nose was pressed against his body and his cock was adding invisible bruises to the back of my throat. I hummed again and he groaned and I tasted salt in my mouth as he came.
I pulled back so I wouldn't choke as he pulsed in my mouth, keeping my lips wrapped around the head until his tremors stopped. Father Collins’ hand slipped from my hair to cup my face, his thumb swiping across my abused lips and wiping away the white strands that had escaped my mouth.
“Take off your clothes,” he said, his voice sounding harsh and wild, a strange contrast to the man who had commented on my pronunciation not long ago. “Take everything off. I want to look at you.”
I slowly unfastened the buttons on the pale blue shirt I was wearing, lust making my fingers shaky and weak. I dropped it on the floor and stepped out of my plaid skirt, kicking off the sensible flats I wore in the same motion. I reached for the clasp on my bra only to hear, “Let me.”
His hands brushed mine as he made quick work of the white cotton bra, dropping it onto the pile of clothes on the floor. His pants quickly followed.
“I’ve watched you in church,” he said, fingers pinching my nipples until they both stood at attention. “You can’t imagine what it’s like standing at the pulpit, speaking about sin and seeing you sitting in the front row.” Feeling bold, I let my own hands wander across his hips to grip that perfect, tight ass. It was a shame that a body like this had to be hidden behind those black clothes constantly.
“I always thought you were handsome,” I confessed.
“What other nasty things did you think of?” he asked. “When you were alone in your bed at night and your fingers went down under the covers, were you thinking of that boy’s cock or mine?”
“It was yours,” I admitted.
"I know I spent a great many hours thinking about the tight little virgin pussy you hid under all those pleated skirts." His cocked twitched against my thigh, and he lifted me up and laid me down on the bare surface of the desk with a surprising gentleness. Even so, I hissed as the inflamed flesh of my ass touched the cool wood.
“You’ve been a good girl, and I think you’ve been suitably punished.” He settled down in the leather desk chair, looking relaxed and comfortable as though every day involved a nude girl spread eagle on his desk.
I arched off the desk and stifled a shriek when his tongue lapped at my lips. My senses were so overloaded with the sensation that I was almost hyperventilating. His tongue moved in smaller and smaller circles until it was pressed inside me. Ever so briefly I wondered how he could breathe until I stopped caring as his tongue darted in and out of my pussy.
“Father- Collins,” I gasped, trying desperately to pull in enough air to speak, “May I come?”
He pulled back just enough to utter, "Yes" before flattening his tongue and pressing it against my clit. It was too much and I screamed as the long-delayed release slammed through me. Every muscle in my body was shaking as the most intense orgasm of my life steamrolled over me. My nerves gave up, and I slipped into blackness.
***
I woke up alone, bruised and sore on a hard desk. He walked away and left me naked in his office, drunk and exhausted from pleasure. I wasn’t angry.
I ha
d a plan.
***
The weeks dragged by. My breasts grew swollen and tender and I began feeling sick in the morning. Father Collins was right. The seed did take hold. I was pregnant. As time passed, my body blossomed. My nipples began to darken and my breasts grew larger. My belly had swollen to the point that my skirts could barely button and my newly ample breasts overflowed the cups of my bra.
Still, I stayed away from the church. Baggier clothes let me conceal my condition for a long while. Before I realized it, I was eight months along. My stomach was huge and swollen with the priest's child, and my breasts were engorged with the milk that would feed the baby.
Above all though, I was horny, constantly, insatiably horny. I spent my nights with my hands between my legs, pumping my fingers in and out of my swollen pussy, trying to recapture the feeling of Father Collins’ cock and tongue buried inside me. My fingers were a poor substitute.
I was eight months pregnant and definitely at the point where hiding my condition was no longer an option when I returned to church.
Father Collins stood at the pulpit. I sat quietly, feeling a twinge from between my legs each time I shifted in my seat.
We rose when he entered, and I was proud that I kept my face impassive when I sat back down. A surprised smile crossed his lips when he saw me. The sermon began, and he was all business. His words flowed over me, the slow drone of Latin melding into the reading in English and his sermons on sin and the Devil and how to resist both.
I had been sitting still, my back ruler straight and my knees together. Ever so slowly I opened them until they were wide enough that he could see what I was hiding under the pleated skirt this time, and what I wasn’t hiding.
His eyes widened as the flash of bare flesh under my skirt caught his eye. I knew I would be punished for this behavior later.
I couldn’t wait.
***
I snuck into his office while Father Collins was doing his required post services mingling. I relished how insane it had to be driving him to be forced to make small talk with old ladies when he had tight, not so virgin pussy waiting in his office.
The door slammed against the back wall when he kicked it open, and he was on me in an instant, pressing me against the wall as his tongue battled with mine, the first time we had actually kissed.
He grabbed my wrist roughly and dragged it downward, placing it on top of the bulge in his crotch. “Do you know what that was like?” he demanded. “Looking down and seeing you with your legs apart like that?”
I took his hand in mine and brought it under my skirt. “I do. You can feel that I liked it as much as you did,” I moaned as his fingers pushed into me. I was already slick and ready for him. “How do you want me, Father?” I asked obediently.
His hand traveled upwards to feel my swollen belly. "I believe I already have you how I want you," he said. "Pregnant and begging for a cock, aren't you?"
He pumped his fingers in and out of me a few times without answering my question before sliding them along the cleft of my ass. “There is virginity I still want, my little slut,” he said, pushing one slippery finger inside my ass.
He slowly worked that one finger in and out of my ass, loosening the tight muscles until he could add a second finger. My knees buckled at the sensations, and he pulled away. “Don’t stop!” I begged.
He chuckled darkly. “I have no intentions of stopping. I want a bed for this.” He lead me through a door tucked in the corner that I had failed to notice before. Inside was a room with a large canopy bed, and even more books lining the walls. I was stripped of my clothes and on my back on a soft feather bed before I could take in any more of the room.
Those amazing fingers were back and a third had joined, scissoring in and out, stretching me to make room for more. I hadn't even noticed him undress or realized my eyes had fallen closed at the pleasurable sensations in my ass until I felt his cock slide into my pussy. He thrust a few times, just enough to get his cock good and slippery. He pulled his fingers out of me and before I could register the emptiness I was filled again, this time with his cock.
There was pain without a doubt as the muscles stretched in unfamiliar ways. He held still for a long moment, letting my body adjust to his invasion before he started moving in short, sharp thrusts.
“Who do you belong to Bridget?” he grunted each word as he pounded into me.
“I belong to Father Collins!” He pressed his hand between us, pinching my clit between his fingers, just hard enough that I yelped and tightened around him. His hips stuttered and then his thrusts grew deeper and harder, almost lifting me off the bed with the force before he came with a yell. I felt his cock pulse as he emptied himself in my ass.
He collapsed on top of me, breathing as though he’d run a marathon. We laid there together for a long moment, sweaty and sated until he sat back and pulled out of me.
“You have no idea how you look right now,” he said, staring at me with something like awe in his eyes. “Naked and pregnant, and knowing that I’ve taken you every which way. I just want to bury my face between those thighs and never come out.”
I smiled. My whole body felt raw and used and I had never felt more incredible in my life.
Father Collins hands stroked my belly and the swelling there before moving upwards to my breasts. He lowered his head to suckle one in his mouth. He sucked on my nipple with vigor, squeezing my breast until I felt the unfamiliar sensation of milk oozing out of my nipples. I shivered, the pleasurable sensations of Father Collins’ attentions to my breasts making my pussy stir, even though I had just had an orgasm.
My hand reached between the two of us to find Father Collins’ softened cock, and I began stroking it, feeling it start to thicken and harden under my fingers.
Father Collins’ switched breasts and began drinking the milk from my other nipple, giving it equal amounts of attention, and I continued to work his cock, drawing him up to full hardness.
Father Collins rolled over onto his back and pulled me on top of him, guiding his cock into my wet and welcoming hole. I was too big to bounce on his cock the way I wanted to, so I began slowly rocking on him instead, the motion giving a delicious pressure on my clit.
My giant pregnant belly was between us, and my milk engorged breasts bounced with every rocking thrust. Father Collins’ hips bucked upwards, lifting me up off the bed with the force of his thrusts. My inner muscles clenched around his cock, squeezing his thick staff as I enjoyed the incredible pleasure of being filled for the first time in months.
I felt my orgasm begin to roll through me, and I threw my head back, and cried out, “Father Collins!” as my hungry pussy milked his cock. Father Collins groaned and emptied himself into me before we both collapsed back onto the bed, finally satiated.
***
I woke up a few hours later. The sun was setting, but there was still enough light to see the colors of the stained glass windows high on the wall. Trees and apples and snakes, all entwined in colored glass.
I dressed quietly while Father Collins slept. Even now, I couldn’t think of his as anything other than Father. I smoothed down my shirt over my pregnant belly and felt a kick. I walked towards the door slowly, not wanting to leave this sanctuary but knowing the real world beckoned. My hand had just touched the door handle when his voice rang out in the silent room.
“Remember, my child. God is watching you.”
Pregnant By The Artist
by
Freya Kane
It was raining when I met him.
I stepped into the slick streets after spending another day slogging through piles of drivel masquerading as novels in search of the elusive gem. My eyes ached, and I just wanted to stumble home and curl up with a book that actually was good.
He had other ideas.
I wasn’t looking for love or lust that day, or most days. I was focused on my career, so my physical needs were all but ignored. Food was whatever I could eat at my desk, and even my own sexu
al needs were dealt with using nothing more romantic than ten minutes with a vibrator. I was cold, wet, and trying to think of why I thought working at a publishing house would be fun only made my head hurt more. I didn’t look like I stepped out of a music video and into the arms of the Magic Man. I was up to my ankles in oily water, and my hair made the sewer rats look like the cutting edge of style.
Lia was not having a good day.
Like a knight in waterlogged denim, he strode towards me. His eyes were hidden by black sunglasses, and, considering the entire lack of sun that day, I instantly pegged him as a stoner or someone trying way too hard to look cool. Then, like a climactic scene in a billion dollar action film, time slowed to a crawl. In one fluid motion, he peeled off the sunglasses to reveal mahogany eyes and lashes that would make drag queens scream with envy. Rivulets of water ran down his face, and my eyes followed one drop from his forehead to his lips. Already moistened by the raindrop’s departed brethren, his lips were wet pillows that I wanted to sink into and never rise.
