He kind of chuckled as if reading my mind. “You don’t actually think I always wear a collar do you?”
I shook my head and stepped out of the way so he could come into my small apartment. “I’m just not used to seeing you in street clothes.”
He immediately took the wine to the kitchen counter and set it there, then took off his coat, draping it over the back of a chair at the dining table. “I wasn’t always a priest you know.”
“About that, we need to talk,” I said, taking a deep breath. I closed the apartment door and locked it out of habit. “I’m afraid we’re doing something we’re both going to regret. Or one of us is going to get hurt.”
He came up alongside me and pulled me into his arms. “I know. I tried to stop myself the first day, but I couldn’t. I’ve been watching you for months now. I’d be lying if I told you my thoughts about you were always pure.”
I hugged him back, burying my head in his chest, feeling warmed by his confession. “What are we going to do? You’ll be fired and excommunicated or told to repent and never see me again, at which point they’ll transfer you to some far off place, and I’ll be excommunicated and my whole family will know I seduced a priest.”
He started laughing then. “No one knows what we’ve been doing except you and me, Megan.”
I pulled back from him slightly and lifted a wary brow. “Are you sure? I have been spending a lot of time in your office. I think old Mrs. Darston has started to notice.”
“She’s like seventy or something. They probably think you’re helping me with paperwork or something. It’s not like you’ve just recently started helping out around there. Look, Megan, I can leave the priesthood at any time. I’m beginning to think I went into the seminary for all the wrong reasons. You only proved my existing suspicions were correct.”
I gasped. “You’re going to quit? Oh God. What did I do?”
He looked me square in the eye. “You didn’t do anything. If anything I took advantage.”
I shook my head. “No, I was the one who told you I was fantasizing about you.”
He chuckled. “Actually, you just told me you were lusting after a man you couldn’t have. I had no idea it was about me, not at first.”
I sighed but didn’t argue.
He took my hand, led me to the couch and we sat down. “I entered the seminary ten years ago after my fiancé died,” he said in a somber tone. “She was in a car accident.”
“Wow. I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” I looked down at my hands, not sure what else to say. I swallowed, hard.
“I was raised a Catholic, but I didn’t live the lifestyle. Instead, I was into an alternative sexual lifestyle. So when Cathy died I actually believed God was punishing me for what she and I were doing. So to atone for my sins, I went into the seminary because I was running. I thought I would never care about another woman again. I didn’t want to have to care about anyone else again. Not like that. All I could think about was serving God in hopes I could redeem us both and join Cathy is the hereafter when I died.” He shook his head. “It was so stupid. Then I started finding myself aroused by women again, having those same thoughts and alternative desires, then you came along.”
“What do you mean alternative?” I asked.
He took a deep breath. “Me and Cathy practiced bdsm. Not publicly or anything like that. We just learned that she enjoyed being submissive to me and I enjoyed dominating her.” He must have noticed my eyes had gone wide because he said, “Don’t get me wrong, we loved each other very much. I would never have hurt her. You have to understand my need to dominate is about protecting and pleasing the woman I care about as much as it is taking control. It’s not just about sex or restraints or whips.”
That’s when it struck me. After all, I wasn’t completely naïve. “That’s what the whole red thing was about.”
He nodded. “A safe word used during a session or play to make sure things only go as far as the sub can handle.”
“Sub?” I admit it; the conversation was making me nervous. My hands were sweating.
“You’re about as submissive as they come,” he said, smiling at me knowingly. “I can spot a submissive a mile off. And my desire to protect and guide you is just as strong as your desire to allow me that type of control. To want to please me as much as I desire to please you.”
His ability to read me astounded me. I fought for words for a moment, gathering my thoughts. “And I pushed you over the edge because I was so needy.”
My mother was probably rolling over in her grave about now.
“No, Megan. I admit, at first it was just lust, but I feel stirrings of something more with you. I want to keep seeing you after I leave the church. This past week I’ve been waking up with a reason to keep going. To see you. To be with you. To take care of you. I need to take care of you. Do you understand that?”
I was stunned to silence, not knowing how to respond. The reality was I wanted him to be with me and to take care of me. There was no way we could run from this. We had to deal with it. “So what do we do?”
“I leave the church and you and I see where this goes,” he said confidently, like he had it all figured out.
Could it really be that simple? I looked up into his eyes. “How does the bdsm thing work? I mean, do I have to always call you Lord or something?”
“We can reserve that for the bedroom. Or, even bring it into our private life if that’s what you wanted.” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead.
“We’d have to move away from here, to another city where no one knows us,” I said. There was a hint of panic in my voice. This was a small town. It would be a little obvious if the priest of the Catholic Church quit his post and began shacking up with a single woman who had been a member of his flock.
He grasped my hand, kissed it, and nodded. “I know. I have friends in Illinois who knew me before I became a priest. I’ve talked to one of them and he has a house we can rent until we decide what to do.”
He’d clearly thought this through a great deal. “What will you do for work?” A flood of worries filled my head.
His finger came down over my lips. “Shhh. Let me worry about that. I do have marketable skills you know. Not to mention I have some money stashed away just in case something like this happened. I wasn’t completely delusional when I joined the priesthood. Just buried in grief. I know we’ve only known each other for a few months, and only known each other biblically for a few days. It’s going to be a lot of work moving our lives to another city. It’s a huge change, but I’m willing to give it a go. The question is, are you with me?”
I felt a lump in my throat. A fresh start wouldn’t be such a bad idea. I’d kind of been in a rut myself, since my mom died. “I’m willing to try,” I whispered with a nod.
He hugged me closer to him and brushed my lips with his. “Good, I’m very happy to hear that my beautiful, Megan. Now strip.”
A rush of excitement ran through me and I jumped up, eager to please him. I began stripping. It was true, Father Michaels was mine. Then I stopped short, a brief look of confusion passing over my face.
“What’s wrong, Love?” he asked.
“I’m so used to calling you Father Michaels, I kind of liked it. What should I call you now? Just Kevin?”
A slow grin spread over his lips. “For now you can call me Sir during our sessions. Or you can call me Master, which I’d prefer, but we can work up to that if we need to. Otherwise Kevin is fine.”
I felt myself get wet at the thought. “No need, Master,” I said with a smile as the last bit of my clothing fell to the floor and I dropped into position on my knees, hands behind my back, legs spread. ●
More BDSM Erotica by
Anne O’Connell
Training Amy (coming in November/December 2010)
When Amy starts her new job at a book shop she has no idea what kind of merchandise her two bosses have stored in a private back room for select customers. She's never been allowed back th
ere. There's also another locked door in the back that she's not allowed through. One night, when she's closing shop alone she decides to take a look. Big mistake. Brad and Eric (her bosses) catch her snooping around. They don't tolerate rule-breakers and Amy must be punished. But is it really a punishment or a fulfillment of all her most secret desires?
Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: BDSM theme and content includes: dubious consent, bondage, spanking, toys, anal play, and ménage m/f/m.
Also coming soon by Anne O’Connell in 2011
Her Demon Lover
My Neighbor Enslaved
About the Author
Anne O'Connell lives in Illinois with her husband and numerous animal companions. She enjoys the taboo, the profound, the surreal, and the macabre. When she isn't writing erotic bdsm fiction (not for the faint of heart) she enjoys long walks in the park, watching the sunset, drinking coffee as the sun rises, and romantic nights out. Anne is the author of Midnight Fantasy Press titles SINcerely, Megan, Nice Girls Don't, Weekend Captive, and the forthcoming Training Amy. Find her fan page on Facebook to keep up with current and upcoming releases!
SINcerely, Megan Page 3
