Bless Me Father, For I Have Sinned

Sister Violet kneels at the wooden grate, voice shaking as she spills every filthy thought about her own fingers and the heat that floods between her thighs. Father Shadrack listens, then offers one path to mercy. He stands above her, silver cross raised, while he tells her to show exactly how she touches herself during those guilty nights. The dark cloth of her habit is pushed aside; her hand works fast and greedy, slick sound filling the quiet booth as the cross stays steady over her face. When her breath catches and her hips jerk, he drops the crucifix and takes her wrist, guiding her instead to the altar rail. There he bends her forward, habit yanked to her waist, and drives into her cunt in hard, punishing strokes. She gasps, knuckles white on the wood. He spreads her ass next, spits, and pushes inside that tighter ring, claiming it with the same ruthless rhythm until her legs buckle. Every thrust shoves her closer to the edge until she breaks open with a choked cry, shaking like the mercy she came for finally hit.