But then I would miss out on the possibility that he, that he what? That he wants me?
Don't be foolish, Suri.
I need to know if he is a Dom or if he's just exerting his authority over me because he's a priest, and I am a nun.
The second Lector steps up to the podium and starts his reading. It talks about living your life for Christ, serving God, and keeping free of sin.
How generic.
I return my gaze to the rosary in my hand, and I pretend to know how to use it. I finger the different sized beads, and my depraved and unholy mind can't help but think of anal beads.
I need to snap out of it. My clit is still throbbing a little bit from Father Stone's ambush earlier, and this isn't helping me keep my mind off of him. I lift my head, and my eyes lock on his form. He sits in his chair to the right of the altar as if he's sitting on a throne.
I want to be up there, on my knees next to his leg.
As if he senses me thinking about him, he turns his attention to me. As our eyes lock, my cheeks grow hot with embarrassment, and I can see the corner of his mouth twitch. He knows I'm thinking about him. He can read me like a book, and it terrifies me.
Suddenly, he stands, and the congregation follows suit. I know I have to stand, but it doesn't feel right, with his eyes locked on me as they are. It would be defiant of me. But he continues to stare, almost like he is daring me to stay in the modified submissive position. He wants to see how affected I am by it in front of a crowd of people. I know that I've disappointed him when I stand, and his lips thin into a straight line. He tears his gaze from me and looks out over his actual parishioners.
"You may be seated," he says at the end of the final reading, and everyone complies.
His deep, alluring voice teases me as he begins to deliver his homily. I want to hear it close to me again like it was this morning. He works off of what the Lectors read and ties the readings to the real world that we live in today. I close my eyes and try and tune him out as much as possible, but fail miserably.
I notice his voice starts to boom through the mic, bringing my attention back to him, but I keep my head bowed. Has he noticed my fidgeting? I can't chance a glance at him, but I want to find out why his voice has gone from smooth and sensual to angry and irritated.
Finally, I look.
"From the book of Timothy," he starts.
Really, of all the fucking books, he picks Timothy?
"If someone aspires to the office of overseer, he desires a good work. The overseer then must be above reproach, the man of one woman, temperate, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, an able teacher..."
The more he speaks, the more turned on I become. This isn't part of his homily, this is a promise to me. I know, at this moment, that he knows about my past, but how?
Mother Fucking Superior.
"...not a drunkard, not violent, but gentle, not contentious, free from the love of money. He must manage his own household well and keep his children in control without losing his dignity..."
He picked this verse because it's perfectly fitting, down to the Apostle's name! I tear my gaze away from him just long enough to notice that the parishioners are confused by the quick turn his homily has taken. Then, I focus my sight back on Father Stone.
"...but if someone does not know how to manage his own household, how will he care for the church of God? He must not be a recent convert, or he may become arrogant and fall into the punishment that the devil will exact…"
He wants my submissiveness. He wants me. This is so wrong, how can he, a man of God also be a Dominant and take part in a sexual relationship?
"And he must be well thought of by those outside the faith, so that he may not fall into disgrace and be caught by the devil's trap."
I can't stay here. I left the lifestyle the second that I testified against Tim. Its too dangerous for me to go back and how am I ever supposed to trust anyone anymore.
I run out of the pew and down the hall leading to the kitchen and front office. I don't know what to do. I can't think straight. I need to clear my head. I run to the bathroom just outside of Father Stone's office and lock myself in. I lift my dress place one foot on the toilet seat. I lick my fingers, coating them in saliva.
I cry out as I touch my sensitive clit. This is the only thing that will help me clear my head right now. I am too far gone for meditation and prayer, not that either of those have helped since coming here.
I push my fingers hard and move them over my clit fast. This isn't going to be slow and sensual. I need to come, now. All of a sudden, I hear banging on the door.
"Suri."
Fuck, it's Father Stone. Mass is not over, why the fuck is he here right now?
"Open the door. I know what you need and how you need it. I will take care of you."
He jiggles the doorhandle roughly, impatiently.
"I'm...almost… ahhhh"
"No, Suri! Hold it. Do not come until I see you."
"I can't!" I cry out. "I have to."
"Suri, I command you to stop and open this door, immediately, or so help me," he says, but it's too late.
His threatening tone should chill me to my bones. It should be like dousing me with ice-cold water, but it has the opposite effect. It throws me over the edge, and I come all over the toilet seat and the floor.
My hand doesn't stop. I need more, and in seconds another gush flows out of my pussy.
As I begin to come down from my high, I know how much trouble I am going to be in when I finally open that door. Part of me wants to bang my head against the wall and pray I lose consciousness, but the other part of me can't wait to open the door and receive my punishment.
I take a few deep breaths and flick the lock on the doorknob, disengaging it, and letting Father Stone know that I'm ready for him to open the door.
In seconds it flies open, and he locks the two of us inside the too-small space together.
He looks down at the evidence of my sin. I'm not talking about holy mistakes anymore. I'm talking about being a bad girl. Doing something that my Dom explicitly commanded me not to do.
After what feels like an hour of waiting for him to say something, to yell, to hit me, he looks at me calmly, but very seriously.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, Sir," I answer him with my head bowed toward the floor.
"You're going to clean up your mess and meet me in my office when you're finished. After that, you and I still have an appointment in the rectory, and we're going to keep it."
"Yes, Sir."
"Suri," he places his finger under my chin and lifts my face. "You need a lesson in patience, very badly."
I swallow but don't respond.
"As soon as we get to the rectory, your lesson will begin, understood?"
My eyes go wide as my pupils dilate and my nose flares with desire.
"Yes, Sir."
THE END… FOR NOW
STAY TUNED FOR MORE OF FATHER RYAN AND SISTER SURI!
About Murphy
Murphy Wallace is an International Bestselling Author with works in several different genres, but most of her work as been in Dark Romantic Suspense.
She currently resides in a small Eastern Florida town with her husband, who doubles as her best friend, and their two boys.
When she's not getting in touch with her inner child at Disney World, or enjoying everything that Florida has to offer with her family, she enjoys writing and watching true crime documentaries.
She has a cat named Maisy who is her constant writing partner.
Also by Murphy wallace
The Wildheart Duet
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Impudence
Emery LeeAnn
Humility
An outward expression of an appropriate inner, or self regard.
Blurb
Father O’Rourke expects me to hu
mble myself before him just like he “humbles” himself all over me and the rectory on a daily basis.
Father Clarence, well he is an altogether different sort of redeemer.
Blasphemy is all this church knows but, without it, what would Mother Superior do?
My vow of silence is almost at an end, and to all who have stained these walls with ungodly acts I warn: Watch out.
Absolution comes at a price and when I’m done paying my penance, the ones who hurt me in the silence will find out the true meaning of humility.
Prologue
The smell of Murphy’s Oil Soap permeates my senses as my prayers came to an end. Opening my eyes, looking up at the altar from my kneeling position, it always seems like I should be on my knees in an inch of dust and dirt, with maggots and worms crawling over our blessed Lady.
But then I get slammed in the senses with artificial lemon scent to let me know, I am back in this house of worship that boasts godliness. You can wax every inch of this so called holy place, every minute of every day, but that won’t clean all the sins away.
Chapter 1
Sister Purity
Sister Mary Margaret, the Mother Superior of Our Lady of Heavenly Hope Convent looks at me with condemnation as she passes me in the darkened hallways.
I’m sure it’s because she can smell the scent of Father O’Rourke on me, like I have an option when he pushes me down in front of him. She nods me on with the thin line yielding the thin lips on her face, knowing there is no need to speak me. I’m nearing the end of my vow of silence. She will have to converse with me soon enough. I’m sure she is glad it is not right now.
They should all be glad. The whole lot of them. Between the Fathers who adore us on our knees, to the sinful ladies I live with that I call sisters.
I prefer to stay silent. Most of the others do not wish to go that route. I find I learn more when I am not speaking. People tend to forget I am here and will discuss everything around me.
Father Clarence, when approving my vow of silence, said it would do me well with being humble. He felt like humility was lost on me when I first entered the convent. Between the two, Father Clarence and Father O’Rourke, they had set up a rigorous work program for me that included my normal prayer times, two meal times alone, and paying penance for them to absolve my worldly sins. My penance would be harsh and cruel, but I needed to know how it felt to have my sins beaten out of me.
When this was first agreed, I had heard Mother Superior vehemently argue my training with them, but as par for the course, the men overruled her. I think she honestly, in her own way, tried to save me. But now, since I’ve been desecrated, though she has no proof, she only looks at me with disdain. I’m not sure if it’s because they passed her up, or because she actually is that pious.
In this place – it’s hard to tell.
5 Years Ago
“Marchfield, get your ass over here in line.”
I sat up groggy on my cot as the house mother yelled my name for morning count. Being in the foster system sucked. You had absolutely no say in what happened with your life. I always laughed at the movies they showed us in school that said as teenagers we could be our own individuals.
We were robots, unable to have our own thoughts or make our own choices. We did what they said, when they said it, and how they said it. They told us when to eat, sleep, piss, and breathe. I couldn’t wait until the day I turned eighteen so I could skip out of this place and be my own person.
Five more long years, and I would be on my own.
Chapter 2
Father O’Rourke
Purity was a vision in that habit. How we lucked out having her walk right through our doors, and being so submissive, it was truly God’s plan.
Now was the moment of truth as she walked over toward me after her morning prayer and meal. I was secretly hoping she would’ve disobeyed me. The thought of spanking her smooth ass made the front of my trousers tighten.
I had instructed her to wear nothing under her habit today. There would be no way to hide it from the others if they saw her because it would show a sliver of skin at the very top. I knew the humiliation of that alone would transcend on her soul, that they knew she was nothing more than a common dirty girl. I had more instructions for her after our lesson for her next study course with Clarence.
I ran my finger across her bare sliver of skin, feeling the goosebumps pop up all over her body. I smiled broadly to let her know I was proud, I twirled my index finger instructing she should disrobe. Dropping her loose clothes to the ground, she looked at me demurely.
The dark, smattering bush that encircled the vee in her legs, was mine for the taking. As much as I wanted to shove her mouth full of my cock, I needed to taste her. It was that sweet scent that I craved more than anything else.
I pointed to my desk. She walked over, hoisting herself up. By now she knew what was expected, what I desired. This had happened several times and she got to know me as well as I knew her. Being on a vow of silence meant part of her lesson with me was that she needed to learn to do everything without vocal instructions.
She laid back as her legs fell naturally apart. Raising an eyebrow at her, she saw what I was expecting. She immediately lifted her legs up on the desk, spreading them open for easier access. Her pussy was soaked and waiting. She could act like this was a chore all she wanted, but when my mouth touched her slit and her muscles clenched around my tongue, she wasn’t fooling anyone but herself.
I scooted her bottom to the edge of desk, so it was just hanging over. Pulling her lips apart, I dove into her sweet taste, a forbidden ecstasy that, in that moment, I was allowing myself to have. She writhed and squirmed under me, but never made a sound. Putting my thumb on her engorged clit, I pressed down as I thrust my tongue in and out tasting her release. It was the most beautiful sight whenever she came, knowing that I was the one that made it happen.
My pants came down, my rigid cock went straight into her ass. This was penance; punishment was expected. Because she needed to repent there was no lubrication that would ease the pain. Faster and faster, her cheeks bounced on my desk as I recited the scripture to her about the whore of Babylon. Her mouth opened in silent scream as I emptied my load.
“Bend over.” I instructed, making sure she knew she still needed to be punished for making me be sinful. She offered her body so willingly, how was I supposed to refrain, even as a man of the cloth? She was so delicious looking; waiting on her knees, ass in the air as I cracked her with the paddle once, twice, three times.
That gorgeous rosy glow I had left in her ass was making me hard again. Good thing I worked in a convent, I mused, lots of female subordinates, all willing to do what I wanted. I rubbed her stinging skin softly. Easing her to her feet, it took everything I had not to lick the tears off her face as I pulled her off my desk. The puddle on the floor was my proof she enjoyed paying penance. Her face turned as scarlet as her ass when she saw it.
I looked at her pointedly. She would suffer far worse if I had to say it out loud. Stiffly, she bent, scooping up her juices mixed with whatever secretions of mine came out with her tongue, swallowing it down.
“Put these on for your time with Father Clarence.” I smiled deviously, knowing she would hate it, but do it anyway. It was uncanny how well it was ingrained in her to follow my orders.
The stockings he had sent to put her in, had satin sashes hanging from them which would be used as an aid to tie her wrists together later.
Without question, she pulled the sheer leg wear on, one at a time. She had learned really early on not to disobey us. She sported scars on her breasts from him, and my brand on her belly, right above her pelvis.
The first time she had neglected my orders, she met the scorching hot steel, a brand I was not afraid to use on her body. I brought the metal poker that was custom made for me before I was assigned to this convent. It had a Gaelic cross on the end. I had scored logs in my fireplace for ornamental reasons but found it was a per
fect way to mark her and make her understand the significance of obeying, and the horrible repercussions of not following instructions.
When I saw her bite down on my belt, as the smell of her burnt, singed skin came through my senses, I honestly believed it was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. Yet, she never uttered a sound. She shed an insane number of tears, but there was no scream of pain. I knew then – I was her God, her Redeemer, her Savior. I could do as I pleased and I would find no resistance.
Shaking myself out of my memory, I realized she was in position, kneeling in front of me, ready to say goodbye. I put my hand on her head, quoted a scripture, then gave her my left hand so she could kiss my holy ring. Normally, I would not ask for that kind of papal respect, but from her, my pet, I would ask that, and she would give me so much more.
Chapter 3
Purity
I left his nasty room feeling dirtier than when I went in. He had a creepy way of making someone feel like they were in a lecherous relationship with their parents or close relative. Rushing to the lavatory, so I could use the facilities before anyone else was finished with their prayer time, I went into the very end stall so I could stick my finger down my throat and clean myself up as much as possible.
Being with Father O'Rourke took extra time, so I needed to hurry. When the others were done with their prayer time, it was time for me to go in alone and pray for my sins. I was sequestered from the rest of the sisters so I wouldn’t contaminate them until the time Mother Superior deemed me fit to join them again.
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