Sinner
W e tried to start over. To forget about religion. To forget about our past. But the problem with evil is that it lingers in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. As much as we want to leave our history behind, it seems determined to follow us wherever we go. The quaint little town we chose as our new home soon reveals its dark underbelly, a twisted reflection of our own inner demons. No matter how hard we try to escape it, evil always finds a way to creep back in. And now, faced with this new threat, we have no choice but to confront it head-on.
Which leads us here, continuing our God’s work hand in hand.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” Sarah whispers. The dim light of the flickering candles casts strange shadows on her face, making her appear ghostly in the sacred space. There is no greater evil than the woman before me—the woman who preys on young men who are lost and vulnerable, twisting their minds and souls to her own wicked desires. Not even the cops know the true depth of her depravity, but I do. I’ve followed her, learning everything about her as I tracked the disappearance of those boys.
My heart races as I listen to her confession, the weight of her sins heavy in the air between us. I struggle to maintain my composure, to keep the mask of piety firmly in place. Sarah looks up at me with tears glistening in her eyes, seeking absolution for the horrors she has wrought upon those innocent souls. But deep down, I know that no amount of penance can erase the darkness that has consumed her.
No, demons like hers need to be exorcized, sent back to hell. A smile curls on my lips as I place a hand on her shoulder.
“Your sins are grave, but so is the mercy of our God,” I whisper, my voice low and steady.
Sarah’s eyes widen in surprise at my words, a flicker of hope dancing behind the fear that clouds them. I watch as relief washes over her features, momentarily softening the hardness that has taken root in her soul. But it’s all a lie. A farce.
“Do you truly believe that, Father?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
Of course, I don’t believe that. She needs to die—that’s the cost of her sins. Death. An eye for an eye. But I lie with a smile on my face and offer her comfort as I glance over my shoulder at the dark corner of the church where I’ve hidden the tools of my trade. The glint of metal catches my eye, a silent promise of justice waiting to be served.
I turn back to Sarah, my expression a mask of compassion as I guide her to her feet.
“I believe in second chances, my child,” I murmur, guiding her toward the confessional where she will pay for her sins with her life. As she kneels inside, unaware of the fate that awaits her, I close the heavy wooden door with a finality that echoes through the empty church.
It’s too late for mercy. Justice is all that remains now. My body trembles with excitement as I prepare to carry out my role as both priest and executioner. Sarah’s voice reaches me through the confessional, her words a desperate cry for forgiveness. But there will be no redemption today.
Just as I’m ready to deliver penance, the doors suddenly burst open, revealing Mrs. Taylor, the mother of one of the missing boys. She’s dressed in a simple gray gown, walking hand in hand with Sister Paloma. My little demon looks gorgeous as a nun.
“Father Michael,” Mrs. Taylor greets me warmly, “it’s good to see you. I was just telling Sister Paloma about the support group that meets here on Thursdays.”
Sister Paloma—or should I say my little demon—nods along, her eyes full of desire. Right now, I want nothing more than for the other women to be gone, and for my little sinner to be on all fours as I take her like the whore she is.
“Yes, indeed. It’s a lovely initiative that our church has taken to support families like yours,” I reply, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within me.
Mrs. Taylor smiles, her eyes red-rimmed from her endless search for her son. I can sense the hope in her gaze, the trust in my clerical robes as the protector of innocence. But they are oblivious to the fact that this priest has his own secret mission to complete. Marisol chimes in, her voice warm and maternal. “It’s truly heartwarming to see how our church helps those in need.”
Fuck, it makes me hard to see her in action, my little sinner masquerading as a sister. A woman of faith. Little do they know that her only God is me and her religion is the twisted ritual of sin and salvation that we have become entwined in.
I hear Sarah sneak out of the confessional and away from us. Smart devil but sneaking away won’t be enough to save her from us completing our duty. To complete divine justice. My little demon must have smelled the evil bitch. Her eyes dart to the door as it closes behind Sarah while she comforts Mrs. Taylor, placing her hand on her shoulder, offering her a kind word and a shoulder to cry on.
But unbeknownst to her, I am plotting an altogether different type of comfort for this lost soul. “I’ve taken up much of your time, both of your time. I should get going. I still have Kylie to tend to.” Mrs. Taylor says Marisol smiles a sincere and caring smile that reaches her beautiful eyes.
“You are no bother to us; we are here to help. To comfort,” Marisol responds as she takes Mrs. Taylor’s hand.
“Like Sister Paloma said, you are no bother to us. The church is here to comfort you and the other parents. ”
A small smile curls on her lips as she nods, wiping away the tears that fall from her eyes. “Thank you both for being an anchor in our small community. But I do have to get going.”
I nod. “Continue to pray and have faith that God will answer. You will get news soon, God delivers.” And he will deliver using us as his vessel of justice and penance. Truth be told, given what I know and how long it's been since he disappeared, her child is more likely to be dead, but I don’t say that. People need faith, to believe in something. They need faith and hope like a fiend needs drugs. Marisol smiles, “I'll walk out with you,” she says to Mrs. Taylor as she guides her to the door.
I watch the two women walk away from me, and I can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. My little sinner and I have been waiting for this moment for a long time, and now the stage is set. There is no going back now. Tonight, penance will be delivered. Sarah will meet her end. We will reveal our true selves to her soon enough. We will make her face her sins and save a few more lost souls from her treacherous path. But for now, it is time to let our plan unfold and let evil do its work.
Despite being lost in thought, I can’t help but watch Marisol’s perfect ass swaying in her nun’s habit. The lust for her burns hot, but I push it down. With the church busy with praying parents, I know I can’t have her right now. The door closes behind them, and the room falls silent once again. I let out a heavy sigh and rub my forehead, my gaze falling on the empty confessional. So close… I could have given that demon penance just now. And though I lack real emotion, I grieve for the parents of those missing boys. But I can offer them justice, though they will never know it. Yet as I get closer to delivering God’s work, I’m only excited by the thrill—the need to kill, to deliver penance.
However, my true desire right now lies in fucking my little sinner . All I crave is to have her kneel before me, to use my cock to deprive her of oxygen as I fuck her throat. The mere thought makes me groan with pleasure. I can envision her on her knees, praying while I cover her skin with my seed, forming a kind of perverse rosary. But before we can indulge in my little demon, I need a confession from Sarah. I need confirmation that she truly is the devil I believe her to be.
But I saw the rot in her eyes—Marisol can sense it too. Thankfully, the cops are as incompetent as ever. With the case seemingly unsolvable, it fell on us to bring her justice. Penance . That’s where we excel. Marisol has a knack for gathering information, and it didn’t take long for us to uncover Sarah’s dark secrets. To the outside world, she appears to be your typical southern belle with her dazzling smile, sparkling blue eyes, and golden locks. But beneath that facade of perfection lies a rotten core. Despite her sunny disposition and acts of kindness, Sarah is just as ruthless as us. That, I am sure of.
As I wait for Marisol to return, I busy myself with altar duties—lighting incense, replacing the bread. The smell of frankincense permeates the air, my hands continuing their methodical movements.
My eyes drift to the looming cross above the altar, and a sly grin spreads across my face. How thrilling it would be to defile sweet Marisol beneath God’s watchful gaze.
And oh, how God provides.
The church doors creak open, and a velvet voice begins reciting words of divinity. “Then, after desire has taken root, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it fully matures, leads to death.” My movements don’t stop as I look up to find Marisol locking the church door and drop to all fours… crawling toward me. I love it when she plays.
“You almost brought peace to that demon without me. Such a naughty priest,” she purrs, her voice a delicate blend of satire and sultriness. Her eyes glint with mischief, yet behind the playful facade, I can see the lethal precision that has become her trademark. She is a lioness in lambskin, as intriguing as she is enigmatic— my deadly little sinner .
“I just wanted to hear a confession, little demon. Just words,” I reply, my hands shifting from the bread to my cock. The smirk on her beautiful face widens, making the beauty marks on her lips more pronounced.
Her gaze drops to my hands, then slowly travels up to meet my eyes again. There’s a challenge in her stare—an invitation. One I'm more than willing to accept.
“Words can be more powerful than actions when delivered by the right person, Father,” she teases. I step away from the altar and take a seat on the step, watching as my little nun crawls toward my aching dick. The rings of light from the stained-glass windows dapple her form, creating a halo around her as she moves closer. The sight is intoxicating, a perfect representation of the sinful nature that lurks beneath layers of purity. Yet all I want to do is defile it.
And the look on her face tells me she’s counting on it. Her hands crawl up my pants, unbuttoning the fabric barrier with a deliberate slowness that’s maddening. Her fingers, delicate and precise, dance along the length of my arousal. The velvet of her gaze never leaves mine, provoking an inferno that thunders in my veins. I lean back on the steps, allowing the burning anticipation to build within me.
“Forgive me, Father… for I’m about to sin,” she whispers before licking the length of my shaft in a slow, languorous motion. Her tongue is hot and wet, and the sensation makes me shudder, a strangled gasp escaping my lips.
“God help me,” I murmur under my breath, my fingers digging into her scalp.
“God’s too busy watching,” she replies with a wicked grin. A smirk spreads across my face as I watch the sinful flicker in her eyes turn into the insatiable hunger that mirrors my own.
“Then you better give Him a show, Sister Paloma,” I say, slapping her face lightly .
Marisol chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that I fucking love. A sound that has become my favorite. “I always give a good show, Father Matheo,” she retorts before licking the precum that beads at the tip of my arousal. Her chocolate eyes never leave mine as she swirls her tongue around the crown. The sight of her veiled head bobbing over my cock is a blasphemy that would damn us to hell if we weren’t already there. I lean back to my side, using my elbow to rest on, as my free hand runs down her head.
“You’re so fucking beautiful sucking cock.” Her eyes flutter shut, a soft moan vibrating deep within her—I swear I feel it against me.
“You should see how beautiful I am taking dick,” she murmurs, her voice thick with lust. I laugh, something that comes so easily with her—one of the many reasons why I love her in my own twisted way. But love, nonetheless.
Yanking the veil off her head, her coils cascade down her waist. I fist her hair, pulling her close, helping her straddle me as I crash my lips into hers. A soft sigh escapes her as my tongue finds hers. My hands work to hike her habit up to her waist, her hand guiding me to her entrance. I deepen the kiss as I feel her cunt swallow me in. Slowly, she impales herself, breaking away from our kiss, her head falling back. Her hips rotate to ease me deeper—the sensation of her around me is divine.
“Matheo,” she gasps as my hips move in sync with hers, each thrust driving me deeper.
“Marisol,” I breathe in return, my hands roaming over the curve of her waist, feeling the fabric of her habit brush against my fingers. Her breathy moans are like a siren call, urging me on. My grip tightens as I watch the divine pleasure cross her face. The small vein on her forehead is visible under the flickering glow of the candles. The sight is beautiful, sinful, forbidden—and I love every second of it .
She closes her eyes, lost in the sensation. I watch as she bites her lower lip, stifling a moan. It’s a sight that sends a jolt straight to my core. We won’t last long, not when it’s like this. Slow. Passionate. Here.
God made our paths cross for a reason. Whether it’s damnation or salvation, it’s all the same to me. She saved me, and at the same time, she damned me. Yet I welcome it with open arms if it means I get to keep her. Leaning forward, I capture her lips again, my hand moving down to grip her ass. I lift her up and down on my length, driving her crazy. Her moans echo throughout the empty church as my lips leave hers, traveling down her throat. Fuck, she’s wearing too much clothing still—not that it matters right now, but I want more. I’ll always want more.
“Follow me, Matheo. Come with me,” she breathes.
“Lead the way, little demon. I’ll follow.” And that’s when her hips really start to move. There’s no more slow passion; it's a raw, hungry need.
I lean back now, watching her as she takes what’s hers. She takes control of our pleasure, driving us both straight over the edge, plummeting us into a sinful climax.
I can’t tear my eyes from the sight of her—beautiful, sacred, untamed. “Now let’s go deliver penance, Matheo.”