by Honey
“The head of my marketing team suggested that I sit for a photo shoot for our upcoming new membership campaign,” she said softly over his shoulder. “That was his favorite picture of me. Do you like it?”
“You look gorgeous,” Father Gregory whispered in awe with his eyes still on the picture. “May I have it?”
“Of course you may, but first you have to play a little game with me.”
“No more games, baby. You know what I want to do.” He placed the picture on the nightstand and rolled over onto his back and reintroduced Royce to his stiff penis. But she had an eyeful for him too. “Girl, what are you wearing and what are those . . . those things in your hands?”
Royce crawled onto the bed wearing a waist-high, black leather vest without buttons. Her firm breasts were in plain view, displaying her hardened nipples, which reminded him of a pair of Hershey’s kisses. There were tiny silver spikes splattered about the leather. The ends of the black chiffon scarf neatly tied around her neck swayed with each motion she made. Father Gregory was spellbound by the matching leather thong covered with smaller spikes and secured by a pair of bows, one tied at each of Royce’s curvy hips. He sat up and opened his arms to her.
“Get back, naughty boy!” She swung a short-handle whip and struck him on the wrist. “You’ve been bad, so you’ll have to be punished. I’m going to make you my prisoner,” Royce announced and grinned, holding up a pair of shiny handcuffs.
Father Gregory was totally oblivious to the type of game Royce had in mind, but the whip, handcuffs, and skimpy leather outfit had piqued his interest. His body went into adrenaline overload. He wanted to play along. “How bad have I been, and how long is my sentence?”
“You’ve been terrible. I’m going to lock you up for life.” Royce snatched the scarf from around her neck and waved it in the air high above her head. She straddled Father Gregory and leaned down to lick the side of his face. “I must blindfold you.” And she did with the scarf, securing it tightly over his eyes before dismounting him.
Father Gregory laughed as his heart raced at high speed. “What else are you going to do to me?”
Royce pulled both his hands in front of his body and bound them with the handcuffs. She pushed him, rolling him over onto his belly. She gave him a lash on his butt with the whip.
“Ouch! Royce, not so hard, baby.”
“Shut up! You will get no mercy from me. Take your spanking like a man.” She swung again and again. “Beg for mercy, you naughty boy.”
“I’ll be good. I promise, baby. I promise to be a good boy.”
Royce gave his body another push, reversing his position on the bed. She straddled him again. She leaned in and covered his lips with hers. He snaked his tongue inside her mouth, and she twirled hers around it. The kiss was hot and moist. It caused Father Gregory’s toes to curl and his dick to throb. He wiggled beneath Royce, hoping to maneuver his rigid member close to the opening of her sweet spot. He felt weak and helpless without the use of his hands.
He mumbled against her lips, “Baby, baby, I need you to—”
“No! You’re being punished.” Royce raised her body to her knees and then stood up on the bed, looking down at Father Gregory’s face.
“I’m in pain, baby. Look at me. I’m about to explode. Take the handcuffs off. Untie the blindfold, too.”
Royce laughed. She stuck two fingers inside her vagina and kneeled on the side of Father Gregory. “Taste me,” she whispered, rubbing her feminine juices over his lips. She dipped her fingers into his mouth, and he sucked them. She rubbed her entire hand between her legs and smeared her womanly moisture all over his face and lips. “Am I sweet?”
“You’re sweet, Royce. Now, take off the handcuffs so I can eat you, baby.”
“Beg me.”
“Please remove the cuffs and the blindfold. I’ll be better than good. Please, baby. I promise.”
Royce showed mercy to Father Gregory and freed him from the handcuffs. As she was untying the blindfold, he reached up and snatched it off quickly.
“Now, it’s my turn. I owe you a spanking.”
Royce screamed and giggled like crazy and tried to crawl away from him, but she was too slow. Within seconds, she was on her back, trapped in place. Father Gregory handcuffed her with her hands above her head. Then he took the scarf and secured it over her eyes. He searched the bed and found the whip.
“You’ve been bad.” He swung the whip and landed a light lash on her thigh. “You’ve been really, really bad.”
“Spank me, baby. Spank me.”
Father Gregory hadn’t expected Royce to encourage him. He’d figured she would beg for mercy like he had. Shocked, he didn’t know what to do. This whole handcuff-and-whip drill was foreign to him. While he’d found it to be somewhat of a turn-on at first, it was a little too strange for his taste. He had finally learned the definition of the word “kinky.” He now also knew how good it felt to be in control. Power was a damn good thing.
Chapter Twenty-six
Father Gregory leaned down and kissed Royce’s soft lips. She purred and offered him her tongue. He sucked it gently before he kissed her chin and neck.
“Aren’t you going to spank me?”
“I don’t want to spank you, baby.”
“But I want you to. Come on. Spank me, Daddy. Spank me.”
Maybe at another time and in another place, he would’ve given Royce a spanking, but Father Gregory didn’t want to tonight. He reached over to the nightstand and opened the drawer. He refused to listen to another word about whips and lashes. The handcuffs and the blindfold he could handle, but not so much the spanking routine. He found the masking tape and tore a piece off. Royce continued begging for a spanking, but he silenced her by pressing a strip of masking tape over her mouth. She shook her head and moaned. The sultry sound was more pleasing to his ears than her kinky spanking nonsense. It had been fun for a while, but at the moment, all he wanted to do was satisfy his appetite for Royce by feasting on her body. And because of the tape covering her mouth, she was unable to protest. She couldn’t speak or see, and she wasn’t able to touch him in response. Something about her limitations stoked the sexual flames to an immeasurable degree of heat. The atmosphere was hotter than lava.
Father Gregory sucked and slithered his tongue over Royce’s chocolate-drop nipples repeatedly until her body went limp and her moans lowered to deep growls. He kissed a path down to her thighs, then on to her knees, and much lower to her toes. He took each of the ten manicured digits into his mouth and sucked them one by one. Royce’s quivering body shook the bed violently.
He retraced the wet path up her body and stopped at the leather and spiked triangle between her thighs. Slowly, he pulled the bow strings, one on each side of her hips, and pulled the leather forward as if he were removing wrapping paper from a Christmas gift. To his surprise, Royce had a fresh, custom-designed Brazilian wax. The remaining patch of fine, curly hair was neatly shaped into a diamond at the lips of her vagina.
Father Gregory licked the hair over and over again until Royce spread her legs apart, revealing her love bud, hard and glistening with her feminine honey. His tongue teased the very tip of the stiff and sensitive flesh, causing Royce to jerk and whimper. She writhed and attempted to talk against the tape covering her mouth. Father Gregory inserted two fingers inside of her wet depths, sliding them in and out while he licked her taut clit. He licked and suckled the moist and swollen bud until Royce bucked and hummed through an orgasm that lifted her body two inches off the bed and back.
Father Gregory reached for the row of condoms he’d found earlier in the nightstand drawer. He had never put one on before. Royce had done the honors the last time. He relieved her of the handcuffs, removed the blindfold, and snatched the masking tape from her mouth.
Royce smiled when their eyes met. She took the condoms from his hand. “No more risky business.”
Father Gregory relaxed on the bed while Royce opened the condom. He drew in a quick
breath of air as her closed palm stroked his stiff dick. “Please don’t tease me, baby. I can’t take it much longer.”
Royce rolled the condom over his penis and flipped over on her hands and knees. “Hit it from the back.”
It took a minute for her request to sink in, but the old saying was true: some things were just natural. Father Gregory positioned his body behind Royce’s. With his hand, he guided his dick to the entrance of her saturated vagina. He rubbed the tip against her moist lips, teasing her. Then without warning, he pushed deep inside of her and began to ease in and out slowly.
Royce cooed and told him how much she loved him each time he entered and withdrew. He thrust inward, and she backed into his hips in perfect orchestration. Their tempo quickened and intensified. Father Gregory tightened his hold on Royce’s hips as he chanted her name rhythmically. He pushed forward with force and pulled back. She backed in and retreated while rolling her hips. Their bodies worked harmoniously as they climbed to higher sexual dimensions. Royce reached her peak first. Her walls squeezed him, pulling him in deeper.
“Ah, Nicholas.” His first name escaped from her lips in a smooth contralto note.
He responded with wild and bottomless strokes into her warmth before he collapsed fully on top of her soft, sweat-drenched body.
* * *
Royce swiped at what felt like a bug crawling across her forehead. She shook her head several times and drifted back to sleep. The crawling sensation returned, annoying the hell out of her. She slapped her forehead with her palm and opened her eyes.
The sun was shining brightly in the sky, casting light through the cracks of the Venetian blinds. Royce sat up in bed and discovered that it wasn’t a bug crawling on her after all. The heat vent blowing above her bed was causing the black chiffon scarf hanging from the headboard to wave back and forth over her face. And the rumbling noise that she’d heard throughout the night was snoring from her bed partner, who was still asleep with his mouth wide open.
Royce checked the clock on the nightstand and went into a panic. “Oh, no! Nicholas! Nicholas, wake up! It’s ten minutes after six.”
“Damn it! I’m going to be late for seven o’clock mass.” Father Gregory jumped up and grabbed his boxers from the floor. “There’s no way I can make it in time.”
“I’m sorry. I should’ve set my clock.”
He ran to the foot of the bed and found his sweater, jeans, and tennis shoes on the floor. He began to dress. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it. My jacket is in the den. Come downstairs and lock the door behind me. I don’t want you to fall asleep with the door unlocked.”
Royce nodded and followed Father Gregory down the stairs. She stood naked near the front door and waited for him to get his jacket from the den.
“I’ll call you after noonday mass is over,” he said, walking toward her. He kissed Royce softly on her lips before he opened the front door. “Get some rest. You need it.”
Royce secured the lock. Then she climbed the steps slowly and went straight to her room and returned to her warm bed.
* * *
“Here he comes,” Father Rivera announced in his thick Spanish accent. He closed the curtains in the parlor’s front window and ran to the foyer of the parsonage with his Bible in tow.
Father Schmidt was there waiting for him. He frowned and put his all-weather coat on over his snow-white alb. “He’s late! Mass will start in twenty-five minutes. He will never make it in time. Such behavior is unacceptable. God is not pleased.”
Father Gregory rushed into the house and came face-to-face with his two fellow priests and housemates. “Good morning.”
“Good morning to you. How was your ride, Father?”
“It . . . it was fine, Father Schmidt,” he stuttered, removing his jacket. He hung it on the coatrack. “I need to shower and get dressed. Excuse me.”
“Will you arrive at the church in time to deliver the homily, Father?”
“I’ll be there.”
The two priests watched his back as he hurried down the hall to his bedroom. The sound of his door slamming shut boomed throughout the house.
Father Schmidt sucked his teeth in disgust. “He lacks the righteousness and integrity of a priest. The man is a disgrace. Did you smell him?”
“I did,” the chubby priest said, grinning and nodding. “But he did not smell like vanilla to me. Tell me, Father Schmidt, what was that scent I smelled on Father Gregory?”
“It has been many, many years since I inhaled a scent of that kind, but I’d recognize it on my deathbed.”
“What is it? Please tell me.”
“The scent, my dear friend, is that of the most intimate part of a woman’s body. The vagina.”
* * *
Father Gregory slammed his office door behind him and unzipped his cassock. He snatched the holy garment from his body and flung it onto his desk. Nervously, he paced the floor in front of the bookshelf. Guilt and shame were gnawing a hole straight through his soul. There was a dull ache in his heart that just wouldn’t go away. It had been there since this morning when he looked into Father Schmidt’s accusing eyes the moment he returned to the parsonage. The smirk on the man’s face and the tone of his voice were clear signs of judgment. It was as if he knew exactly where Father Gregory had spent the night, the person he’d been with, and the sinful acts they’d committed.
He rubbed his hand over his face and immediately smelled Royce’s feminine scent on his fingertips. There wasn’t enough time for him to shower before he dressed for mass. Time had been his enemy. He’d brushed his teeth, gargled with mouthwash, wiped the crust from the corners of his eyes, and dressed in record time. It was a miracle that he hadn’t crashed or gotten pulled over by the police on his high-speed drive to the church. God’s merciful angels had protected him indeed. Thankfully, he had delivered a great sermon without blunder or mishap.
He had been his worst critic because of guilt. From the looks on the faces of the members of his congregation, he guessed the homily had fallen on receptive ears. It was a shame that it had come from the lips of a hypocrite. Once again, God had shown him favor. If only he could be as faithful to God as He was to him. Father Gregory wasn’t just a filthy fornicator. He was also a liar. And he had become very comfortable and careless in his double life. His love affair with Royce had become his top priority. She now was the center of his universe, not God or the Catholic Church. It had never been his intention to fall in love and enter into a secret relationship, yet there he was.
Father Gregory rounded his desk and plopped down in the chair, troubled and spiritually crushed. There was only one way for him to attain the peace he desired. He needed to confess his sins and ask for forgiveness, but he didn’t want to. Stubbornness had settled in his broken spirit, and he was ashamed. Father Kyle had warned him that he would fall into temptation and fornicate with Royce again if he did not leave her, but he had refused to take heed. And because he’d decided not to follow the older priest’s spiritual advice, he had sunk deeper into sin.
Chapter Twenty-seven
“My parents are driving up here from Thomasville Friday to pick up Tyler. He’s going to spend his entire spring break with them. I hope I’ll see you often while he’s away. These past few weeks have been torture. I was surprised when you called today and asked me to meet you here.”
“I’m sorry we haven’t spent very much time together lately, but I felt we had to cool things down for a while. That Sunday morning I overslept and almost missed mass was my wake-up call.”
Royce kissed Father Gregory’s bare chest and rubbed his flat belly. She lowered her hand to his crotch and gently took hold of his penis. It hardened instantly under her touch. She began to stroke him. “So, now we’re hiding out in hotel rooms in the middle of the day. You better be glad I’m the boss at my job. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to drop everything at once and meet you whenever you call.”
“Thank you for being so cooperative and un
derstanding, Royce. My schedule and my situation make it hard for us to hook up sometimes. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. We’re together now, and that’s all that matters. How much time do we have?”
“Two hours.”
“Let’s make the most of it.”
* * *
Father Kyle gave up on completing his sermon. He would start afresh in the morning. He placed his pen on top of his notebook and allowed his thoughts to go adrift. More than a month had passed since his last meeting with the mysterious young man in black. Father Kyle had thought of him often, praying that he had taken the woman he loved as his wife. It was clear that he had no plans of dissolving his relationship with his lover. Therefore, Father Kyle could only hope that they were now living happily together as husband and wife. If that wasn’t the case, then the troubled fellow must’ve given in to his flesh and was deeply involved in a sexual affair. Of course, the elder, very concerned priest had no way of knowing for sure. Only God knew the young man’s present circumstances, and He alone had the power to save his soul.
Father Kyle’s heart went out to the unidentified man. He felt a strong connection to him because many years ago he had faced a very similar dilemma, but it was much more complicated. Days after completing his studies at Notre Dame Seminary in New Orleans, Louisiana and weeks before his vow of celibacy, Father Kyle met a beautiful woman. Priscilla Lee, a Tulane University graduate student, had declared it her mission to rid the world of hunger. Her chance meeting with the would-be priest took place at a picnic at her school one late spring afternoon. It was instant love for the young aspiring priest. At the time, he was scheduled to begin his first order at a church in Spokane, Washington that upcoming summer. Priscilla’s kindness and good looks caused him to question the calling he believed God had on his life. He had begun to have second thoughts about taking the oath of celibacy and joining the priesthood too.
