crying at 3 a.m.

Your hazy brain struggled to tell if it was because you were unable to see it from such a distance, or you had started to hallucinate after a treacherous journey, but you hadn’t expected to be greeted by such gorgeous surroundings.

The church from your window seemed so lonely, almost abandoned, if not for how you could catch occasional glimpses of candle light that made the tiny coloured windows glow so beautifully in the night. The little place always intrigued you, the way no one spoke of it and how easily its silhouette faded into the fog during the colder months, you half expected it to be haunted. But seemingly there was life here after all, as your eyes desperately strained to take in a garden that almost sparkled even in the limited moonlight. Despite it being shrouded in darkness, you couldn’t help but already feel comforted amongst the rich variety of different flowers and scents that drew you in closer. Gardens were hard to come by where you lived, and often you found yourself yearning to be amongst the hills, but never did you imagine such a reward for coming here.

After that moment of respite, the chapel itself finally caught your eye. Your heart thudded when you truly took in the height of the building, feeling so small standing in its unavoidable shadow that trapped you. The patterns in the stained glass were obscured by the darkness, as was every corner and crevice which made the building feel more daunting to wander into.

You knew such a beautiful garden wouldn't be able to thrive without a kind hand, but the small irrational part of your brain couldn't help but question if the garden was to lure people into what would otherwise be an imposing solitary church with no abbey in sight. The world must have urged you to not fall for your own fables, for the front door found you before you realised your feet had carried you there.

A flinch tensed your entire body when the giant door creaked, announcing your arrival much louder than you’d have liked, despite the hall being empty. With both feet inside, you sighed to yourself. Even without allowing yourself to indulge in taking in the old building, it was a little surreal to be inside the little church that always looked as if it had been forsaken, engulfed between the distant hills as if the world itself wanted to keep it from prying eyes.

To your relief, there was a small shimmer of what you presumed to be a candle lit inside the confession booth, illuminating what you’d escaped your little village for. That was the thing about living in a small community, voices are recognised and secrets are so easily spilled. Even so, people still somehow believed that their confessions were confided in with only with God and his chosen, but you weren’t willing to risk this. It felt like you had no choice but to seek out the distant church that no one seemed to have the energy to travel to. You felt included in that with how your feet ached to finally rest, but not once in your entire life had you seen anyone come here, it felt too perfect to not try.

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned,” you could hardly hear yourself over the meek way you slipped into your seat inside the booth. For a moment, you wondered if whoever on the other side heard you.

“And yet, you sound ashamed,” the man on the other side practically tutted. You hadn’t the brainpower to take in the odd tone of which he spoke, as you were entranced by the gravelly, yet deliciously deep voice that made you shudder slightly against your will. “Talk to me sibling, what is troubling you?”

You took a moment to breathe. Oddly his voice was quite fitting for a haunted castle, but it didn’t deter you. Something about his presence already felt welcoming, as if you didn’t need to feel guilty about pretending to be a sibling of this church just to get your words out.

“Well, I’ve been having these thoughts you see, thoughts that I can’t get out of my head. I can’t seem to repress them, the sin is getting in the way of my prayers at this point and I truly am ashamed, believe me.” Amongst your hurried breaths you could hear gentle shushing from the other side.

“Before I ask more of what’s on your mind, may I ask what we have taught here about troubling thoughts?”

“Yes, I know that we must find solace in prayer and confide in God, and have faith he will wash away the sin. But that alone hasn’t been helping and I feel like such a lost cause, believe me I’ve been trying.”

There was silence for a moment, followed by a “Hm.” Your heart thudded again, did you miss something out? Was he considering that you were truly lost?

“I don’t recall anyone new joining our church recently…” he mumbled in a low breath, likely to himself. You jolted. How it was that obvious you couldn't understand. If he didn't continue, you would have bolted out of there. “You will not find any shame here, you are quite safe from judgement within these halls, especially thoughts that are regarded as sinful.”

“I know we shouldn’t judge others no matter what,” your voice gave out a nervous chuckle, despite your relief of his reassurance. “Though I am here because I worry of what our Lord might have to say about this if I ever were to die soon.”

“You are sweet to worry, but my Lord would be very happy to welcome you if that were to happen.” You imagined a smile on his face through the way he carried his words, his tone could almost be mistaken for amusement, but it was nice how genuine it felt despite how wrong you knew he was.

“That is kind of you to say, but really I don’t think he’s happy with me right now.”

“I think I can say for certain from the sound of it that he would be quite pleased with you.”

You wanted to argue further, but you decided to just let it go and get on with making sure you really were going to please him. Who were you to argue with one of his trusted Shepherds after all?

“It is just thoughts you are ashamed of, si?”

“Yes, thoughts I have tried so hard to suppress but they just will not go.”

“You poor thing, especially when you have tried so hard to serve…” You weren’t sure what was laced in his voice that made you squirm, but it raised the hairs on the back of your neck. “You’d think such a merciful God would release you from such troubles no?”

“Well... I- I’m here because I thought He’d want me to seek guidance and redemption.” It was hard to hold your tongue at how a priest could sound so scornful of the Lord, but it was not your place to tell him what to say. Perhaps he was just trying to relate to your feelings on the matter.

“Perhaps you’re right.” You heard the man on the other side shift in his seat, it was easy to forget, so lost the faceless voice that you were talking to a person. “I think he’s sent you to the right place, agnellino.”

There was a heavy silence between the two of you, your heart clenching at the lower tone of whatever Italian name he just called you. You felt you should start talking about what had taken over your thoughts all this time, but something inside you was determined to make sure you couldn’t utter a single word of it to this man. The swirl of emotions stirring within and catching your tongue perplexed you. Whether you were alarmed about him, or if it was the guilt of pretending you were from this church, right now you were sure that you were going to leave without trusting him with a single thing.

“You think I shouldn’t feel so ashamed?” The words stupidly stumbled out of your mouth. He hadn’t said as much clearly, but it felt obvious that he was angling towards that.

“You catch on quite well.” Your feet started to itch towards the door with a mind of their own. Concentrating, you forced yourself to stay still to soak in the praise that something inside your body wanted to reject so badly. “Most of my flock at some point have come to me feeling guilt about a thought, confessing how stressed they have been over such a natural thing. Like you, they feared something they hadn’t even done. Thoughts are just part of being a human being on this earth, even horrible ones, especially sinful ones, and you will find no solace in running away from your nature. You will never find peace without acceptance.”

“But…” Speechless. You had no idea how to navigate this. Never had you heard anything like this before, let alone from one of the heads of the church. “I thought that these thoughts came from the devil, that his temptations are tests and through prayer you’ll know peace, or you’ll let the thoughts corrupt you.”

“Believe me, the devil cares for your soul less than you think.” The way he said that made your chest clench, as if he was smiling fondly and the devil was an old friend of his. “He celebrates sin, but what is regarded as sin does not come from Him. If you rely on prayer and faith, you’ll only repress what is a part of you. It will never wash away, only be buried under the sand.”

You didn’t know if you wanted to tear up or throw up. It sounded like this man wasn’t going to let you repent for your sinful thoughts, that he thought you didn’t need to. You felt guilt even listening to such views, how could you turn you back on Him for the sake of embracing sin? You wanted nothing more than to run back to the comforts of your little town, where you could shroud yourself in the faith that would protect you from him. Your skin crawled, to think that despite it all, you could confess your darkest sins to this man. That his calm, alluring voice made you want to stay.

“Are you alright?”

You hadn’t finished your confession yet, what was plaguing you still on the tip of your tongue. Would he suddenly judge you or would he tell you to embrace it like everything else? Both potential responses terrified you to your very soul, and before you could register it you were on your feet.

“I think I must take my leave Father, I appreciate you hearing me.”

“Father is a title that I am not used to hearing.” The voice sounded amused once again, “I am referred to as Papa, I think you will find this church is quite different to what you have been used to.”

“I apologise, Papa.”

“It is alright, you are very new after all. But I’m sure you’ll catch on quite soon. You are sure you will not stay and confess what ails you?”

“I… I don’t think I can.” You didn’t think you should.

“I see. It takes time for some people, especially when it is your first time. You know where to come when you’re ready.”

Stumbling out of the confession booth, you could only nod as he bid you goodnight, despite him not being able to see you. Reflectively you squinted as your eyes adjusted to the new unexpected light. The moon had decided to welcome you out, kissing the stained glass and bringing the colours to life. For such a lost church, it was so beautiful, adorned in warm tones against the cold night that almost enticed you to stay even longer. To cloak yourself in the alluring warm light and spend your time in such a quiet church, it sounded almost perfect.

You’ve been waiting for her in the little black dress that makes her want to flip you over and spank you until you cry. Everything about you is just on the right side of innocent, so close that if she stretches out her hand she can pull you over the threshold to her world. It’s her reward, she thinks, for everything she did tonight. For everything she survived.

“What– Are you okay?” you ask, standing up from where you sat waiting on the floor.

She ignores you for now, opening the door to her room. It’s all well and good being seen by a lost girl who’s been helplessly following her for a week but she doesn’t have to risk another trip to a cell. That would only slow her down.

“It’s not mine,” she eventually says from the safety of her room. You’ve closed the door, leaning heavily against it. “Have you been here long?”

“An hour or so. What happened?”

Still no traces of disgust or fear in your eyes. Sister Imperator, as she calls herself now, is impressed. You’re collateral, really. She’s too open to distractions, there are far too many women and children in need of her. But you’re not like them. Not really. You’ve held yourself well.

“A little mishap,” Sister says, smirking as she removes her jacket. “Are you worried about me?”

“Would that be so bad?”

"You don't even know who I am."

"No, and I don't care."

The first time she fucked you was two hours after she killed your boyfriend. He tried to traffic two girls to the church of her wretched stepfather. Not that you’re aware of either, not to the full extent, anyway. It’s ironic in retrospect, the way she first made him scream in pain and then you in pleasure, his dried blood still stuck under her nails. When she told you about his accident the relief on your face was evidence enough and why, Sister did not have to ask.

She’s seen enough women with similar stories.

“Don’t stand there,” Sister says. “Or did you come here to chat?”

“No, I–”

“Don’t explain. It’ll ruin the scene.”

You close your mouth, as always eager to please. She doesn’t particularly want to be mean to you but you seem to like it when she orders you around and right now, with the adrenaline still flowing through her veins, all she wants is to get lost in the sensation of your body caving to hers. She needs it, that feeling of power, of control, the agency over her own self. It’s addictive, it’s safe.

“Get on the bed,” she orders, redoing her long blonde ponytail.

You eye her for a moment, following the bloody trail on her body from her hands to her boots and back up. It’s a caress more so than anything and Sister begins to understand. You’re not grossed out, you’re not flinching back, you don’t want to leave, no.

You’re aroused.

She alters her plans. When you sit down on the bed, knees pulled to your chest, she doesn’t leave to shower nor does she change as she had initially planned—to make you wait for her, starved girl, until you'd be begging for a single touch.

Instead, she reaches into her suitcase.

“Turn around,” she says, “and get on your knees for me. You're in luck tonight.”

“But–”

“You’ll address me with Sister if you have any complaints,” she snaps. “Then I might consider to listen. Understood?”

“Yes, Sister.”

With a heated, bashful face you turn around and she smiles to herself when she sees your ass up in the air, the short dress barely covering the soft flesh. She takes the harness from her suitcase and adjusts it over her black jeans, making sure it sits tight. She’d found it in California a few years back, marketed as a medical device for men, a pale, wearable dildo that she chose in the biggest available size.

It’s perfect for what she has in mind.

“What– what is this?” you ask, glancing back at the fake cock around her hips.

“I’m going to fuck you with it,” she says, unfazed. “That is, if you’re good and finally stop talking.”

Your eyes widen but you bite back another question. Sister approaches, pushes the cock between your legs and pulls your ass against her. You moan, the dildo pressed to your abdomen, and she ruts against you once more just to feel how docile you are. You'd let her do anything, there is no doubt about that.

“Do you want that, little lamb?” she asks with a deep inhale, that rush of arousal tearing through her lungs. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, Sister.”

With a satisfied grin, she pushes the fabric of your dress up until your ass is revealed to her, soft and completely unharmed, parted by the flimsy fabric of your soft pink underwear—the very image of innocence. Your panties are wet when her thumb brushes over your crotch, pressing in deep until you whine. Not so innocent, no. She wonders if your boyfriend ever got you to make such lewd, desperate sounds.

“You’re a filthy, depraved girl,” Sister teases, watching as your pussy flutters underneath the damp fabric. “So turned on by what I did and I think you know exactly what that means. Is that what they taught you in your church? What would they say if they saw you right now? Getting fucked by the woman who lives to destroy them? Aroused by their very own blood?”

“Please,” you whimper. “I’m not–”

Sister’s hand comes down hard, discolouring the soft flesh of your ass, the sound reverberating in the hollow motel room. You cry out, pushing back against her, but she won’t give you the satisfaction yet. Instead, she follows with a hard slap to the other cheek, watching as the tissue echoes the impact.

“Please what?” she says, her voice lowered.

“Please, Sister,” you whimper. “Please, please fuck me. I’m not one of them.”

“Oh, you’re not?” She strokes over the pretty marks on your ass, watching her hands as they leave bloody trails, dried blood melting into sweat. “Is that why you’re here?”

You nod, pushing back, and she punishes you with another blow, your cunt spasming against her fingers. It’s almost too easy. You yearn for it, the freedom she promises, the absolution of shame, and she can’t blame you for wanting to lose yourself in the process. Better with her, she thinks, than with some other man she’d have to kill.

Sister pulls back and spits into her hand, spreading the wetness over the dildo in a soft pink trail. The illusion is enough, for tonight. The rush of power, usually reserved for men, is now hers. She’s claiming it, making it her own, knowing that she’s the one to wield it with mercy.

From the corner of her eye she sees you biting your lip, glancing at her over your shoulder with an anticipation that is almost endearing. She pulls your panties aside and drags her cock back and forth, slicking it until it glides smoothly. When it catches at your clit your legs shake, the most pathetic little mewls falling from your lips. She has to rein herself in not to go too fast, her own body pulsing with the need to fuck you, to release the last traces of adrenaline. When she places the tip against your entrance there’s not much resistance. The muscle opens and closes, beckoning her in.

“You’re going to take me so well, aren’t you, lamb?” she asks. “You’ve been waiting for this your whole life. Freedom and pleasure, all of your secret desires revealed to someone who can give you exactly what you want.”

She slowly pushes in, just to see if you need more preparation. A thrill goes through her when she sees her cock sinking into your cunt. You’re so wet, so desperate already, and she’s hardly touched you, hasn’t even undressed. She knows she could subjugate you, have you sink to your knees and worship her instead of her step-father’s false God. There are so many ways in which you could be useful to her, even beyond the warmth between your legs.

Power is a dangerous thing, she thinks, and then she pushes her hips forward.

You moan, your muscles clenching as she sinks in deep. Your face contorts in pain and pleasure and your hips meet her movement, as if you can’t get enough. Sister smirks and begins to thrust forward, watching in fascination as the pale cock disappears inside of you and more and more of your arousal pearls onto her length. When it’s evident you can’t keep still she smacks your ass again, sees how you’re cunt clenches around the cock as she hits you again and again.

“You’re a slut,” she says. “Look at you fucking yourself on my cock.”

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Fuck, please– Sister– I’m c-close.”

She reaches forward, a hand between your shoulder blades, and with her next thrust she pushes until your elbows give out and your upper body collapses into the sheets. You squeak like a mouse as she bends herself over you, using the momentum to fuck you harder.

“If they could see you now,” she whispers against your ear, “their sweet little lamb turned into a filthy whore, making a mess of herself all over my cock.”

You whimper and as your mouth opens she pushes her bloody fingers between your lips, makes you suck them off while she continues to shove her cock into you. She can see you trembling now, your eyes closing, teeth scraping her fingers at the force with which she fucks into you. It’s addicting, to have you at her mercy, to see you falling apart.

“Are you going to come for me, little lamb?” she whispers.

You nod, dazed, and she presses down on your tongue until you gag.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to hide your pleasure anymore.”

Her free hand moves between your legs, shoves underneath the fabric until she finds your clit and pinches. You come with a scream, shuddering against her, and she rides it out with a few more sloppy rotations of her hips. Her own body is beginning to protest under the strain, the harness pressing on newly-formed bruises, and you collapse together in a heap on the bed.

Sister makes sure you feel her withdrawing the dildo before she removes it and tosses it aside. She’d have you suck it clean but everything hurts, the fight catching up with her. She's aching all over, now that the rush slowly ebbs away. It’s been a long day, she thinks, and then she feels your arms wrap around her in a semblance of comfort she's reluctant to accept. A few errant tears coat your cheeks but they’re warm when she reaches out, your whole face mellow.

“Is this your last night here?” you ask, glancing at the packed suitcase beside the bed.

Sister huffs a laugh. “For now. I have a lead I must follow.”

“But what if I don’t want you to leave?” you ask, a blond curl wrapped around your finger. Your other hand slowly snakes down her front, toying with the button of her jeans before it boldly slips in.

“You know, little lamb,” she whispers, a sharp, blood-crusted fingernail tracing your cheek, “I might just take you with me.”

thank you for reading <3 likes, kudos, comments and reblogs are appreciated but most of all i hope you had fun reading this story!