Time To Confess My Sins {sexual torture}
From my shame. From my punishment. From my penance.
At night everything is removed from me, and my arms are strapped to my bed along with my feet.
In the mornings I am cleaned and allowed to use the bathroom before I am outfitted for my crimes.
I labor through my chores with a companion. I am never alone. They know that my flesh is weak and trust isn’t possible. I am watched even as I relieve myself in the bathroom.
I am shown some mercies. During meals everything that can be turned off is. For confessions, I am the last one in the church beside my superior. He sits behind the veil and hears me as I moan from my tortured bodily cage. As I read from a book of sins that I continue to fantasize about.
He never interrupts me. He doesn’t ask for details and doesn’t have to. I give them freely to enhance my confession. To fulfill my bliss.
Yes! Bliss! Fucking Christ Bliss! He grunts in agreement as he comes on the other side and his panting was the oil on my flame. I bear my breasts and open legs. I start to read again, and the vision fills my mind.
"I am strapped to a table, nude as the day I was found in the woods. Men with big hands were touching, pulling and pushing at all my parts. An old woman makes her way through the crowd and pokes her fingers in and around my vagina.
She declares to the men around me, that had gone silent during her inspection, that I was not a virgin, but I wasn’t well used either. After she pulls her hand free, she announced that I was eager and lifted her wet fingers above her head as proof.
The roar of men came back louder before until there was a loud tapping on the wall above my head.
“You will all get a turn,” the man said. “But who has enough money to be the first?” was his question. I missed how much first place paid to open me up for the others, but not even the noise of the other men who were picking lots to see who would be next could distract me from the feel of his cock as he worked himself deep into my depths.
The old lady lied without knowing it. I was a virgin. No man had touched me before that moment. I had done it to myself. I used a statue of Pan that Lilly showed me years ago. She said that before a woman was married, she would use that statue so her wedding night would be more enjoyable for her.
I wasn’t getting married, but I wanted to use it anyway. And I did. Once a month for three months. It was my third trip there when I overdid it and fell asleep in the woods without bothering to get dressed because the sun felt so good on my skin.
Now I was feeling the real thing. I felt another body pressing into mine. Hot and wet. I wanted this more. I wanted more."
I moaned louder as the book fell from my hand. Someone had turned up the force of the eggs. My knees pressed against the walls of this new cell. This booth. It kept me from the man on the other side. From the cock that I heard being worked over with a fast hand.
My body shook. My cum gushed out of me as I came. I pressed my body into the wall and my seat as I shouted for the last time.
“FUCCCKKK MEEEEE!”
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Am I poking a little fun at religion here?
Yes and no.
I'm poking sexual fun at Catholicism. Almost all of my religious sex stories and such are catholic flavored.
One, it already was when I picked up the photo/drawing to make the story.
Two, who else has all these visual marks making it such an easy target? Also, everyone knows that the church's stand on no sex is BS.
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