Bad Habits: A Dark Anthology - Yolanda Olson Page 0,95
to boom through the mic, bringing my attention back to him, but I keep my head bowed. Has he noticed my fidgeting? I can't chance a glance at him, but I want to find out why his voice has gone from smooth and sensual to angry and irritated.
Finally, I look.
"From the book of Timothy," he starts.
Really, of all the fucking books, he picks Timothy?
"If someone aspires to the office of overseer, he desires a good work. The overseer then must be above reproach, the man of one woman, temperate, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, an able teacher..."
The more he speaks, the more turned on I become. This isn't part of his homily, this is a promise to me. I know, at this moment, that he knows about my past, but how?
Mother Fucking Superior.
"...not a drunkard, not violent, but gentle, not contentious, free from the love of money. He must manage his own household well and keep his children in control without losing his dignity..."
He picked this verse because it's perfectly fitting, down to the Apostle's name! I tear my gaze away from him just long enough to notice that the parishioners are confused by the quick turn his homily has taken. Then, I focus my sight back on Father Stone.
"...but if someone does not know how to manage his own household, how will he care for the church of God? He must not be a recent convert, or he may become arrogant and fall into the punishment that the devil will exact…"
He wants my submissiveness. He wants me. This is so wrong, how can he, a man of God also be a Dominant and take part in a sexual relationship?
"And he must be well thought of by those outside the faith, so that he may not fall into disgrace and be caught by the devil's trap."
I can't stay here. I left the lifestyle the second that I testified against Tim. Its too dangerous for me to go back and how am I ever supposed to trust anyone anymore.
I run out of the pew and down the hall leading to the kitchen and front office. I don't know what to do. I can't think straight. I need to clear my head. I run to the bathroom just outside of Father Stone's office and lock myself in. I lift my dress place one foot on the toilet seat. I lick my fingers, coating them in saliva.
I cry out as I touch my sensitive clit. This is the only thing that will help me clear my head right now. I am too far gone for meditation and prayer, not that either of those have helped since coming here.
I push my fingers hard and move them over my clit fast. This isn't going to be slow and sensual. I need to come, now. All of a sudden, I hear banging on the door.
"Suri."
Fuck, it's Father Stone. Mass is not over, why the fuck is he here right now?
"Open the door. I know what you need and how you need it. I will take care of you."
He jiggles the doorhandle roughly, impatiently.
"I'm...almost… ahhhh"
"No, Suri! Hold it. Do not come until I see you."
"I can't!" I cry out. "I have to."
"Suri, I command you to stop and open this door, immediately, or so help me," he says, but it's too late.
His threatening tone should chill me to my bones. It should be like dousing me with ice-cold water, but it has the opposite effect. It throws me over the edge, and I come all over the toilet seat and the floor.
My hand doesn't stop. I need more, and in seconds another gush flows out of my pussy.
As I begin to come down from my high, I know how much trouble I am going to be in when I finally open that door. Part of me wants to bang my head against the wall and pray I lose consciousness, but the other part of me can't wait to open the door and receive my punishment.
I take a few deep breaths and flick the lock on the doorknob, disengaging it, and letting Father Stone know that I'm ready for him to open the door.
In seconds it flies open, and he locks the two of us inside the too-small space together.
He looks down at the evidence of my sin. I'm not talking about holy mistakes anymore. I'm talking about being a bad girl. Doing something that my Dom explicitly commanded me not to do.