Chapter Five
ENYA
I’m alone in the church, standing by the confessional booth. It’s oddly eerie in here with no one else around. My steps echo against the hardwood floor. The temperature is colder than I remember. Even the pulpit and altar have a ghostly horror-show vibe about them.
I won’t be alone for long.
A large, golden bell with a wooden handle rests on a table.
A note with the words RING FOR FATHER CAIN is laminated and sellotaped to the table.
Cain’s probably out in the fields, tending to his cattle, or in his house behind the church.
One ring and he’ll think I’m here to confess my sins.
In a way, I suppose I am. Cain’s the only person who can absolve me of my sins.
He’s also the only person who can satiate my lust.
I tried waiting for Mass, to see Cain again.
Giving him time after my display on Sunday night would do him good.
At least, it should make him more interested in me.
But the mortified look on his face after watching me through the window only made the wait harder.
I’m so close to claiming my Priest that the most I can go is three days.
I grab the wooden handle of the bell and give it three hard swings.
The metallic clang echoes through the empty church, ringing on longer than I thought it would.
I enter the confessional booth, ensuring the slat is shut.
Then I wait patiently, as a good girl should; stripping down to nothing but my panties and dropping to my knees.
Cain enters the church humming a song. Heavyset footsteps echo against the wooden floor, and stop at the booth.
“Good morning, child,” Cain says, taking a seat. The thin, plywood construction rumbles with the motion.
“Good morning, Father.”
A choked cough escapes Cain at the sound of my voice.
I make a cross in front of me, up, down, left, right.
“H… How can I help you?” Cain struggles to get the words out.
“I want to confess my sins,” a smile tugs on my lips.
“Go on,” Cain says.
“Forgive me, Daddy, for I have sinned,–” Cain murmurs fuck under his breath. No mention of me calling him Daddy? A good sign.
“Actually, that’s not true. I haven’t sinned at all since my last confession. I’ve been a good girl,” I say.
“Then why are you here?” Cain asks.
“It’s not for the sins I have committed. It’s for what I’m going to do.”
Cain murmurs something inaudible. A prayer, perhaps, to get through this.
“What are you going to do?” he asks.
The dividing wall thuds with Cain leaning into it.
The grill is barely enough for him to hear through so will he see me if he decides to look?
But will he look? My garden isn’t a house of God.
But this confessional booth? The holiest of places, where it’s only the three of us? Dare he break the rules?
“I’m going to touch myself, Daddy. I’m going to do it for you. I want you to watch, I want you to join in. I want to feel your fingers stretching me apart and I want to feel your cock in the back of my throat.”
I lean back, spreading my knees. The slat remains closed, but Cain’s nervous shuffling makes me wonder how long he’ll be able to keep away.
“I ca—”
“No, don’t speak,” I cut him off. “Just do.”
I shove my hand into my panties. If Cain opens the slat, he’ll get a full view of my thighs all the way up to my face. I cup my breasts, squeezing them together, and palming my nipples.
“I saw you at my window the other night. Watching me with those storm-cloud eyes of yours.” I bite my bottom lip. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you ever since.”
Keeping one breast cupped, I snake my fingers down my belly.
A guttural grunt bellows from Cain. I let my fingers find my most tender spots, running through the slick folds.
“I’ve got an aching inside me. An itch I can’t scratch. I bet you will hit all the right spots.”
Cain doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He’s probably in that booth, contemplating my words. His body’s begging for a yes, while his mind reasons against this devious act. I pull my panties to my knees. If that slat opens, I want Cain to see me bare. Nothing between him and me.
“Is it wrong, if you’re helping me? If you’re casting the demons of lust from my innocent body?” I whisper. “Is it wrong if I help you do the same?”
“Maybe not.” Cain presses his hand against the slat but doesn’t open it.
“What’s running through your mind? How you want to see me now? Naked on the floor, ready and waiting for your command? Or do you want to touch me? Taste my forbidden fruit? Because I want to taste yours.”
I can’t suppress the groan, try as I might.
I haven’t been able to get all the nasty thoughts of Cain out of my head since Sunday.
The thought of his cock pumping his seed into me has been a source of my most pleasurable climaxes.
Even those have already stopped. My imagination isn’t enough to satiate my need. I need him inside me.
“Will you let me suck your cock, Daddy Cain?”
There’s barely a pause between my words and the slat flying open. Cain’s eyes settle over me, unable to find a place to rest between my breasts and pussy.
“Enya.” Cain’s attempt at saying my name with conviction falters. He’s weak for me and I fucking love it.
“Shush,” I reply, raising my hand out to Cain. “Your healing touch can send the devil out of me.”
Cain doesn’t speak, instead he shoves a hand through the slat. I take his hand with my soaked fingers and guide it lower. He strains, having to hunch over to meet our destination.
“I’ve never done this before,” Cain admits, embarrassed.
“I’ll teach you, Daddy,” I whisper.
“I’ve never done any of…” He pauses, as I push his hand against my pussy. “You’re so wet.”
“I am and it’s all… your… fault.”
Cain’s hand rests easy against my slit. He’s nervous to make a move, and who could blame him? A man of celibacy against me? I pump my hips off the ground and into his hand. His touch, expert or not, makes my legs turn to jelly, shaking uncontrollably.
“I want you to slide a finger inside of me,” I say. Cain follows my instructions sending his ring finger into my wetness. He only manages the tip at first.
“Deeper,” I demand. This time, half his finger penetrates me.
A howling moan leaves me through gritted teeth.
“Deeper,” I try saying it with the same confidence as before.
But, Cain’s thick finger is more than I expected.
Without warning, Cain plunges his finger down to the knuckle.
I shut my mouth with my free hand, unable to control the noise.
“No, I want to hear every sound that pretty little mouth of yours makes.” Cain orders. He’s taking control? Good.
Without further instruction, Cain starts moving his hand back and forth.
He brings it right up to the tip, before slamming himself back into me.
His fingers graze against that uncontrollable itch that’s consumed me since Sunday night.
Every thrust drives me wild, sending my body into a spasming fit of groaning, twitching, and desperation for more.
“Another finger.” Meek words from my weak lips.
Cain joins his ring finger with the middle one, filling me to the brim. Clutching his arm for support, I pull myself into his back and forth wrist motion.
“You feel so perfect,” I sputter.
Cain drills me with dedication. His frantic grunting is audible through the slat. Fingers slam into me with a focused ferocity. Every muscle in my body contracts against his motions, my fingernails burying themselves into his thick forearm.
“Don’t stop. Keep fucking my tight little hole,” I cry out.
Cain groans. It sounds devious. Naughty. Instead of carrying on as I asked, he slides another finger inside me. I can’t hold back the screaming. It’s raw, clawing up from the back of my throat, and it tears through me. My body molds to Cain’s motion, accepting every inch of him.
“I’m so close,” I murmur. My brain shuts off, and a sudden shockwave of electric pleasure claps through my core. I hold on for dear life while I reach my climax against Cain’s fingers. He doesn’t stop, not while I spasm out of control against him.
Cain releases me when my body crumbles to the ground. I immediately feel empty without his hand buried inside me.
“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” I ask, trying to catch my breath. Cain responds with a chuckle. He gets back onto his haunches, eyeing me through the slat.
“Why are you getting down?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” Cain responds with a crooked brow.
“Get on your feet.” I point at him, accusingly. He stands up as requested. I pull myself onto my knees, peering up at him through the slat.
“Enya, you don’t have to do this,” Cain sounds nervous.
“I know, but I really want to,” I reply, shoving a hand through the slat. Cain’s erection is visible through the fabric of his pants. I reach out and touch it with the tips of my fingers. His legs turn to jelly at my touch. “I want to see it.”
“Enya, I’ve—”
“I wanna see it,” I whine, like a spoiled little brat, jamming my fingers into Cain’s waistband and pulling him closer. He slams into the divider and it vibrates against his enormous frame.
“I can’t stop you, can I?” Cain replies. I expected him to sound dismayed, but there’s a hint of excitement in those words.
“No. You can’t. I always get what I want, Daddy,” I reply.
“Fuck,” Cain grumbles. “I like it when you call me that.”
“I know,” I reply with a wink, even though Cain can’t see it. “Are you ready?”
“I really haven’t done any of this before,” Cain admits again.
“Then you’re lucky I’m your first time,” I say.
“I’m ready,” he says.
I work at his button before lowering the zipper. His loose pants hang against his firm hips. Cain’s breathing gets more staggered the closer I get to freeing him. I slot my hand into his waistband, both pants, and boxers, and with one hard tug, they pool at his feet.
Cain’s cock springs to life in front of my eyes, veiny, thick, and long.
“You’re huge.”
Cain doesn’t respond, not until I wrap my hand around his shaft and give it a tug. And then, it’s only a quivering grunt.
“It’s so big. You’ll tear me in half.” I pull him gently by the shaft, closer to the slat. He’s silent. Nervous for his first time.
“I want you to stick it through the hole,” I whisper. “It’s practice.”
“Practice?”
“For when you fuck me,” I reply.
Cain slams a flat palm against the plywood divider.
“Do you like that idea, Daddy? Do you like thinking about drilling my pussy?” I ask, guiding Cain’s cock through the hole in the wall.
“I do,” he replies in a whisper. “More than you could ever imagine.”
“Good,” I narrow my eyes at the head of his cock from this close.
I start tugging his girth back and forth, licking the tip. A fierce moan rips through Cain at my touch. He’s been on this earth too long, not to have had any sexual attention. I’m the luckiest girl in the world to be the one showing him.
“Does that feel good?” I ask, settling my lips over his head.
“It’s amazing,” Cain replies. His body shakes and rumbles against the divider.
I clutch him at the base, driving my head forward on his cock. It hits my throat midway, unable to go any further without force. From my position, I bob my head back and forth over him.
“Fuck, Enya, I need you to slow down,” Cain whimpers.
I don’t listen to him. I continue thrusting his cock into my mouth, sliding and twisting my fist around his shaft simultaneously. Cain’s body reacts accordingly, buckling and shuddering with every motion.
“Are you going to come for me, Daddy?” I ask, pulling away to get oxygen in my lungs before plunging him into my mouth again.
Cain can’t speak. His body shakes and without warning, an explosion of seed shoots into my mouth and down my throat. Cain’s roaring his moans, while I suck him clean. He falls backward into the little wooden stool in the booth. He’s puffing and panting, fumbling with his pants on the ground.
I just lie on the floor, my brain and body in a mess, from the wild ecstasy Cain Jameson has put me through.