Cricket

The cathedral walls surrounding you seemed to close in around you the closer you got to the confessional. It was well past sunset, and the moonless sky was not kind enough to offer light for your path, leaving you walking only in the flickering light of the lanterns adorning the walls. 

Normally, your busy schedule could always find the time for confessional during the offered times. In fact, you’d confessed a handful of times to thinking unkindly of those who could not leave time for the asking of grace, instead choosing to bother the priests during hours better spent. Shame gripped at you as you rounded a corner for falling to what you once looked down upon. I’ll confess to that, too.

Truth be told, you were there at the last confessional, but despite the grille separating you and the priest, you knew who was on the other side. You’d know his voice, the light, melodic tone he carried no matter the occasion, anywhere, and confessing the thoughts that plagued you to the subject of those thoughts somehow felt worse than not confessing at all. Still, you knew you needed to ask forgiveness for the lust that found you late at night, when your mind began to wander. You knew you needed to ask forgiveness for how tightly you clasped your hands in prayer to avoid them trailing down, down, where your need concentrated between your legs. You knew you needed to ask forgiveness for your awkward gait when leaving his lessons, your arousal slicking your thighs together with each step. 

You entered the confessional, facing the grille as, on instinct, your eyes strained to see beyond. You never realized how dark it was in here without light shining between the wood planks. Your fingers toyed with your veil anxiously, wringing it between your fingers as you tried to will yourself to relax. 

Father Jester is a busy man. He would not break his routine for a novice requesting confession during abnormal hours. Perhaps it is Father Bilheteiro, he does do what he can to leave Father Jester to the more authoritative manners. 

Truth be told, you didn’t care who was on the other side; so long as it wasn’t him. You squirmed in your seat for a few moments more before finally clearing your throat. Your voice came out high, shaky, the prayers you’d given beforehand doing nothing to strip you of the shame that filled you. “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” you choked out, touching your index and middle fingers to your forehead, sternum, left and right shoulders, just as you were taught. 

As expected, the priest on the other side stayed silent, giving you the smallest bit of relief. Even though it was improper, Father Jester would often greet you from his side of the grate, that feeling of feeling special not helping your lust. You took another deep breath before continuing. “These are my sins. I have found myself unable to control my lustful thoughts in relation to one of the members of the clergy. These thoughts have distracted me from my lessons in Scripture and Biblical History, and have led me to feel disconnected from the Lord My God,” you said, sighing once the words left your mouth. You hoped whichever priest was listening wouldn’t put together the connection between who taught those lessons and your thoughts. 

You let silence fall over the booth after you spoke, trying to cope with the weight of what you just confessed. After several quiet moments, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Admittance always made you feel better, knowing your troubles were in the Lord’s hands. 

Whatever peace you felt was interrupted as the priest spoke from the other side before you could continue. 

“Is that all you wish to confess, my dear novice?” came the teasing lilt that tormented your mind. Cold dread washed over you as you heard Father Jester’s voice ring from the other side of the confessional, and you were sure he wore a grin on his face watching you pale with terror. 

“I- um-” you stammered, fingers tangling once again in the white veil framing your face. You heard a soft huff of amusement leave Jester’s lips, and you found yourself fighting the urge to fix the soft tuft of your bangs peaking out of your veil to something more appealing. Instead, you forced whatever words you could find from your lips, anything to break the tension you were faced with. “I’m- I wasn’t talking about you,” you blurted, wincing as the words left you. Lying during confession…

“Of course not,” he purred out, making you grind your teeth together. Fuck. “I can tell you feel a great deal of shame surrounding these thoughts. Perhaps more detail will help you release that guilt?” he offered. 

You nodded before you could think not to, clearing your throat as you sat up just a bit straighter. “I find myself… daydreaming during, um, certain lectures,” you spoke, just barely above a whisper. “About things the Lord warns us about,” you explained. 

A shift of fabric from the other side echoed in your ears, then, “And what might those daydreams entail?” he asked, his tone coy, as if he was enjoying teasing you, despite how absurd you knew that sounded. 

“Sins of the flesh,” you stated simply, but from the silence that greeted you, you knew he wanted more information. 

For my salvation. 

“Y- this member of the clergy,” you quickly corrected, hoping he didn’t catch your almost-slip up. “He finds me late at night, in my mind. In these sinful thoughts, I find myself dwelling on how his hand ghosts across my waist when he walks by. I find myself wondering what… what that touch would feel like in other places.” You couldn’t help the slight airy tone in your voice, brain flooding with endorphins as you recalled your deepest fantasies. 

“I see,” Jester said. “And have you done anything to relieve yourself of the tension of these daydreams?” he asked. You nodded, choosing to ignore the breathy note hanging on to the edge of his words. 

“Of course,” you said quickly. “I always make sure to pray before I am overwhelmed by my sins. I wouldn’t want to be tempted to give in to these thoughts,” you said, almost proud of your self restraint. Sure, you sometimes have to hold your hands hostage to avoid giving in, but so far your track record was spotless. 

Your pride was interrupted by a soft huff from Father Jester. “That is not what I am referring to, dear,” he murmured. “Have you truly never tried to gratify these thoughts?”

You were speechless for a moment, before Jester’s voice rang out once more. “Lying is a sin, little one. Even more so during confessional,” he chided lightly. “Tell me, my sweet- has your hand ever wandered to your sweet, virgin cunt late at night?”

A whimper tore through your throat at how vulgar his language was. You tried so hard to convince yourself he was just worried for your soul, your eternal life, but you couldn’t miss the soft panting from beyond the grille no matter how hard you tried. You knew it was the workings of King Asmodeus whispering in your ear, telling you he might want this just as badly as you did, but no matter how hard you tried to shake the idea, his heavy breaths cut through the thick of your rationale. 

You shakily leaned forward, lips poised mere centimeters from the grille. “...Self gratification is a sin, Father Jester,” you said softly, though despite your innocent words, you made your voice that much more gentle on purpose, hoping, praying he was as affected as he sounded. Perfect, poised Father Jester, always one for quick quips and known for never losing his graceful image even in the depths of irritation. A man who was the spitting image of self control, unable to quiet his breathing hearing about your nightly fantasies about him, it was nearly too much for you to handle. 

“Father?”

“Are you untouched?” he asked. Your cheeks bloomed with warmth at the question. 

“Of course. I am saving myself for the Lord,” you assured. 

“Untouched, by even your own hand?” he challenged. You hesitated. 

You had gained self control in your studies of The Word, but, as embarrassing as it was, there were times before you proclaimed yourself a child of God. Times in which you didn’t feel the guilt you felt now letting one hand trail between your thighs, pooling as much friction as you could get against your most sensitive parts before your world exploded in streaks of color, leaving you panting, shaking in place. 

“Before my studies,” you admitted, leaning closer until your lips brushed the grille, straining to hear more of those sinful breaths from Father Jester. 

“Walk me through it,” he commanded. Sensing your hesitation, he continued. “It is nothing to be ashamed of, my dear novice. This is confession, correct?” he asked rhetorically. “Then confess.”

Now, you were the one panting, unabashedly against the grate. It was wrong, so wrong, but the thrill you felt from walking the object of your desires through your most intimate moments sent a shiver through you. “Before I came to stay in the novitiate, before I knew Christ as I now do, some nights my sin would get the best of me,” you started. “My hand would find its way to my sex without much thought, and my legs would close around it as I sought release,” you said. You weren’t familiar enough with the vulgar terms like the one Father Jester had used to trust yourself to use them correctly. Unbeknownst to you, your innocent language only made your priest that much harder. 

“And what would cross your mind during these bouts of sin?” he asked, his voice sounding further away, as if he was leaned back in his chair. You pouted a bit, realizing his composure had come back once more. You pouted more realizing you were the one who was affected, now. 

You thought back to those nights. The thoughts weren’t foreign to you in recent weeks, but you often managed to filter them out through a chorus of Hail Mary’s before they got much further than simple petting. Still, fantasies of days past rang in your mind in a familiar manner. “Thoughts of my wedding night, what it might look like…” you took a breath to steady yourself, bringing your gaze to where you thought Jester’s might be beyond the grate. “Whoever my husband might be, pushing himself into me, as he tells me how good it feels for our souls to be united as one.” 

The thought alone was so debauched to you, Jester almost laughed thinking about the depravity he had imagined you in. On your knees, begging for his cock down your throat, or begging for his cum to flood your virgin cunt, chastity be damned. How many times he found himself idly dreaming about you pleading for him to ruin your innocence, to pledge your eternal soul to him instead of some flimsy deity above, would surely appall you. 

Jester watched with hungry eyes as your thighs squeezed tightly under your habit, accentuating the swell of your hips that was already so deliciously visible thanks to the tie around your waist. Your hand shook as it trailed down the edge of your habit, pressing against the seam of your thighs, just barely tipping the edge of obscenity. “First Corinthians. Chapter six, verse eighteen.” His voice cut through the tension in the booth, halting your thoughts as you remember exactly where you were. “I-I’m sorry?” you stammered, the realization of your behavior slamming into you. Gosh, you’d never felt so humiliated in your life. 

“Despite your claims of a wandering mind, you are in fact my best novice in Scripture. Recite for me, little one, First Corinthians, 6:18.”

You swallowed as you recalled the verse, pulling away from the grille, failing to hide your pitiful display of lust. “1 Corinthians, 6:18. F-flee… sexual immorality. Every other sin that a p-person commits is outside- outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body,” you quoted, the words feeling sinful thanks to the slick pooling under your habit, threatening to soak through the light fabric and stain the chair below. “Once more, novice, and without the stuttering this time,” he commanded. You nodded, your heart racing wildly in your chest. You clenched your hands into fists, bracing yourself. “1 Corinthians, 6:18. Flee sexual immorality. Every other sin that a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body,” you said, speaking slowly in an attempt to keep your voice steady. Silence greeted you when you were done, Father Jester no doubt deciding whether you appeased his request or not. 

“I will accept it,” he finally decided. You heard the creak of wood from his side as he leaned forward. “Now, is that all of your sin you are to confess?” he asked. 

You blinked, everything having moved so quickly. Did he, too, stumble into lust during your admittance? Were you going to Hell for causing a priest to stumble?

“Yes sir,” you responded quietly. “Good,” he responded. “Now, after we pray for Contrition, be a good disciple and take yourself to bed. I do hope you can manage it without sin, this time,” he said. 

Gosh, you’d never been so humiliated in your life. You’d never been so turned on before, either. 

…

You thought confession would make you feel better. You thought the absolvement of your sins would make it easier to avoid your wandering hands. But, as you sat at the foot of the cross in the empty sanctuary, having had to flee your room to escape your greedy hands, you realized that confessing only made you feel worse. 

The footsteps falling behind you didn’t register in your mind until they stopped just behind you, dread running up your spine. 

“Having trouble, my sweet?” Father Jester purred. You didn’t open your eyes, instead clutching your rosary harder, until the metal links between the beads dug into the flesh of your fingers. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” you answered, your voice shaky, uncertain. You heard his footsteps round you, then, a shift of fabric, You peeked an eye open to see him sitting on the pedestal in front of you, just under the cross. 

“Oh, well, we can’t have that, now can we? You need to be well rested to serve the Lord,” he cooed. His hand cupped your cheek as he tilted your head up, forcing you to look up at him. Both eyes opened as you stared at him, a deer in headlights look on your face. “Mmm, such pretty eyes, darling. I think I quite enjoy them focused on me,” he purred, his thumb tracing your cheekbone in a way that was almost hypnotic. 

“I must finish prayer,” you said, nearly whining, pleading silently for mercy. 

He did not grant you mercy. 

“What prayer were you reciting?” he asked curiously. You bit your lip. 

“Gloria,” you murmured. Father Jester’s grin sharpened. 

“Start over for me, since I dared to interrupt you,” he commanded. You swallowed nervously, letting your eyes slip shut as you bowed your head once again. You were interrupted by his thumb tapping your cheek, bringing your gaze to him once again. “Eyes on me, darling. I want to see the devotion written on your face.”

You weren’t entirely sure he was referring to the Lord at that moment. 

The prayer wasn’t terribly long, so starting over wasn’t the worst thing he could have asked you to do. Maintaining eye contact as per Father Jester’s instructions, you let the prayer slip past your lips. “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to people of good will. We praise you, we bless you, we adore you, we glorify you.” Jester’s hand slipped from your face to cross over his lap. He never once broke your gaze, greedily drinking up your praise, as if your devotion was to him instead of the Lord. “We give you thanks for your great glory, Lord God, heavenly King...” You watched in your peripheral as he shifted his foot meeting the ground before slowly sliding forward. You jumped, your voice trailing off into nothing as the leather of his dress shoe pressed into your center. You found yourself pressing against it without thinking, a moan finding its way past your lips at the sheer relief you felt. 

“Continue,” he said lowly, looking down at you through his lashes. 

“O God, almighty Father. Lord Jesus Christ, Only Begotten Son,” the words came out high pitched as you struggled to keep from mewling. You fought as best you could to not hump the leather between your thighs, the nightgown you were glad in giving him more access than your habit would, but even so, you were helpless against the small bounces that sneaked past your defenses, pressing your clit rhythmically against the leather. “Lord God, Lamb of God, Son of the Father, you take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us- on me.”

You felt shame for how you looked up at Jester with such wide eyes, but that shame quickly melted away in favor of something more carnal as he rocked his shoe up against your clit, giving steady friction to your most sensitive area. You whined, biting your lip as your hips humped against him involuntarily. “Please…” “Oh, my sweet,” he sighed out. “Such a sinful little thing. What ever will you say at the next confessional?” he cooed, pouting down at you mockingly. You whined, opening your mouth to respond, only to be cut off by Father Jester. “If you don’t want to restart your prayer, I’d suggest you continue,” he ordered. You bit your lip, nodding as another whimper slipped through. 

“Y-you take away the, ngh~ s-sins of the world, receive our prayer,” Jester quickened hit pace against your cunt, and you gasped hearing the slick noises coming from between your thighs, no doubt having soaked through your flimsy nightwear and staining his leather. 

“Such filth,” he sneered, the disapproval in his voice making your walls bear down against nothing. “Do you get this wet during your little nightly distractions?

You whimpered, looking away before nodding, clutching your rosary tighter in your hands, hoping, praying it would ground you against the waves of pleasure that threatened to drag you under. Jester tutted, reaching a hand out and tugging your rosary, your gaze snapping back to his. “I won’t tell you again, novice. Don’t look away,” he hissed out quietly, using the tone he reserved only for corrections of more grave offenses. You’d only been on the receiving end of that tone once before, having said an instinctive goddamn when stubbing your toe. Back then, it terrified you. Now, it only made you feel more needy. “You’re almost there, darling. Keep going,” he said. His instruction was vague enough, you weren’t sure exactly what you were meant to finish, but you continued on with the prayer, even as the pressure between your thighs threatened to burst. 

“You are seated at the- the right hand of the F-Father,” you paused, taking a deep breath, “have mercy on me.” Your eyes fluttered as you shuddered, fighting to bring your gaze back to his. Father Jester grinned as you looked at him unsteadily, pleasure written on your every feature. He was enjoying your struggle, and he made no attempt to hide it. “For- for you alone are the Holy One- hahh~!” a breathy moan interrupted you, your thighs trembling as release toyed at the edge of your senses. 

“Do not. Not until you’ve finished prayer,” Jester instructed firmly. You whined, shaking your head as your eyes rolled back. 

“I can’t- I can’t,” you said, your tone pleading with him for mercy, of which Jester offered none. 

“You can, and you will.” He watched as you groaned, a shudder wracking your frame. “C’mon, keep going. The faster you go, the easier it’ll  be,” he said. 

That was who Father Jester was. He was firm, cold to some, but even amidst nearly impossible tasks, he still did his best to guide you to succeed. Thats what you chose to tell yourself, at least. Maybe this was a test? Yes, a test! Of my resolve, my temperance!

You felt silly, for thinking of this with such dirty thoughts. Your beloved priest would never lead you astray. He simply wanted you prepared to commit yourself to the Lord. 

“You alone are the L- the Lord, you alone are the Most High,” you continued. You no longer tried to fight the shake in your voice, no longer tried to hide the warmth in your cheeks, your attention devoted to holding your peak back long enough to appease Jester. You held eye contact as best you could, even as the edges of your vision twinkled with stars, your orgasm inevitable. “Jesus Christ, with the Holy Spirit…” your brow furrowed. “Jesus Ch-Christ, with the Hhh- Holy Spirit…”

Jester grinned as your mind slipped from you, the prayer falling silent as you struggled to remember the last final words. “Please.”

“Come on my sweet, you’re so close for me,” he purred out. You nodded, looking up at him pleadingly. “Just a little more, and then you can cum. Go on,” he cooed, coaxing you closer to your orgasm. He kept up the constant friction against your clit, not helping your mind focus any. Goosebumps spread across your skin as you felt a bead of sweat form on your forehead. Your thighs trembled as your rosary glinted in the light as it swung thanks to your shaking hands. 

“I-I’m-”

“Not until you finish,” he reminded. You groaned, nearly doubling over with the effort it took to not cum. Your eyes squeezed shut as your desperate mind finally managed to come up with the missing words. 

“InthegloryoftheFatherAmen~!” you squealed, your orgasm crashing into you. Liquid gushed from your cunt as the ground disappeared from around you, the metal links of the rosary fading from your palms. The only things in that moment were you, Father Jester, and the waves of pleasure crashing into your helpless form, leaving you shuddering, shaking over Jester’s shoe. 

Father Jester watched as you fell apart, a grin on his lips seeing you so helpless against such simple stimulation. At this rate, he wasn’t sure you could even take what he had planned for you. 

Your orgasm faded, leaving you soaking wet against the leather between your thighs. Jester pulled back, the cold air of the room hitting the sopping mess between your legs. Realization of what just happened, what you did slammed into you as your arousal faded, making you wrap your arms tightly around yourself in shame. 

“No, no, my sweet. You did so good, such a smart little novice for me,” Father Jester assured. You looked up at him shyly, biting your lip. 

“That- that was indecent,” you insisted. Jester tutted. 

“How so? You did not commit sodomy, nor adultery.” He leaned forward, grabbing hold of your rosary once again, bringing your arms towards him. Your skin never touched, the only connection he allowed between you two being the glinting metal you clutched so tightly. “As a member of the clergy, I would never lead you astray, my sweet. You have a bright future in the monastery here. Everything I do is to drive you closer to that goal.” He paused, looking between your eyes with a sincerity you were sure couldn’t be faked. “There was no sin committed here, my dear novice,” he assured. 

Though guilt still plagued you, you felt some of the pressure released at your words. You couldn’t help but trust him- he’d given you no reason not to. 

“Yes, Father Jester,” you nodded, smiling shyly at him. 

“Go wash up and get to bed- it’s far too late for you. I’ll see you in the morning," he said. You nodded, standing up on shaky legs. He released your rosary to let you walk away. You got to the doors of the sanctuary before you turned around, smiling. 

“Thank you, Father Jester. You truly bring me closer to the Lord,” you said, your tone genuine. 

“Of course, sweet novice,” he grinned. You turned, walking away towards the novitiate.