Hero

28 Cataline

When I kneel, it’s not in worship or gratitude. It isn’t to unload my sins and ask for absolution. It’s only under the guise of these things. In my heart, it comforts me to be in the Lord’s presence. It’s a selfish time for me, to ask for healing and to be brought back to my parents. I kneel in supplication.

The glow is not simply from the lit candles at the base of the statue of the Virgin Mary. It’s from a feeling of warmth and security that exists only in the sanctity of this room in a dark mansion. I ask for help, greedily, for relief, for guidance. It’s only my second time in the mansion’s chapel. It feels wrong to be in here after these past months, after the shameful things I’ve done.

My forehead touches my knuckles, my hair long and loose over my shoulders. Because everything in my closet is fitted, short, or sexy in some manner, Rosa has lent me a white, long-sleeved, shapeless dress. I am relatively calmer hidden beneath it with my sins. Deep in the recesses of my thoughts, I don’t hear Calvin enter. It’s the creak of the pew directly behind me that draws me from my prayer. His presence is strong at my back. Through the cotton of my gown, his hand cups my bottom, his fingers curling under but not quite reaching their target.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

His hand moves, rubbing me as my body devolves into pure panic. My heart stutters and stammers against my chest as his fingers move deeper toward my clit with each slide.

“Y-you can’t do this,” I stammer. “Not here.”

“I can do whatever I like to you because you’re my possession. I own you.”

“No, you don’t,” I say in hushed fury.

“I don’t?”

“No.”

The wood groans again, and his heat envelops me, his mouth moving to my ear. “You keep denying that you’re mine. Do you belong to someone else?”

“I belong to no one.”

“I’m glad you think so. I have a debt that can’t be paid with money. Since you don’t feel obligated to me, I think I’ll have you repay it on my behalf.”

“What are you talking about?” His massaging is harder now, my body warming against my every instinct. I fight it entirely, but his fingers are too skilled. When his other hand closes around my breast, my body convulses slightly.

“You’ll fuck my friend because I say so. Because you aren’t mine. Perhaps I’ll watch, or even record it so we can watch it together.”

My loud words echo in the small room. “No. You’re psychotic.”

He moans hot breath against my ear. My knuckles shake as I crush my intertwined fingers together. “Then tell me this is mine,” he says, squeezing between my legs with a firm grip. “That’s all I ask.”

“Never,” I whisper.

He gathers up the dress behind me and slips his hand underneath, caressing up the inside of one thigh. “My stubborn sparrow. Your pride will only hurt you.”

One finger pushes into me, and my vision blurs. It delves deeply into my heat, and I know when he removes it, it’s wet. It returns with a second finger, driving up again until he can’t push any deeper. “How many fingers do you think I can fit inside you before you come?”

My shoulders shudder with a sob. His hand on my breast slides up around my neck and under my chin, forcing my head up. “Keep your eyes open,” he says. The Virgin Mary looks down on us impassively, and I’m forced to watch her as his fingers curve inside me and massage, causing my body to tighten up. “Not yet,” he says. “Two is nothing.”

A third finger presses inside, and I’m full with him.

“Tell Him,” he says. “Confess how naughty you’ve been.”

I shake my head in his grasp.

“Confess,” he hisses. “I know you touch yourself at night and think of me.”

My denial is garbled by the lump in my throat.

“You liked when I fucked you, and you want me to do it again. Say it.”

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

He groans, and his erection jabs into my ass cheek.

“I’ve had impure thoughts and committed impure acts.”

“Did you touch yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Did you wish it was me?”

“Yes,” I say as tears roll down my cheeks. “And I wished you would do it again.”

His fingers spread inside me to welcome a fourth. I groan loudly and attempt to squirm away. His movements are fast and hard now, and his thumb presses against my anus.

“You’re dripping all over my hand. I wonder if you’ll come this way, or if you need more.”

I gasp. “More?”

“I have ten fingers, don’t I? A fist?”

“Oh my God.”

He chuckles in my ear. “Thou shalt not take the Lord’s name in vain.”

I’m too afraid to come and too afraid not to. I’m dissolving into nothing but tears that stream from the corners of my eyes as my head is tilted up. His fingers still, and his other hand releases my throat to pet my hair. My head drops, but I incline slightly into his gentle touch. His thrusting starts again, this time soft but deliberate.

“There, there,” he whispers. “It’s okay. I’ll make you come this way.”

True to his word, he removes the pressure from my anus and swivels his hand to replace his thumb on my clit. His rhythm goes unbroken as he pushes me to the edge, whispering nothings into my ear, and stroking my hair. My orgasm crests, and I reach back to grip his hand in my hair, squeezing it as my thighs tremble and my pussy constricts around his fingers.

My body wholly unclenches, and I melt against the pew in front of me. He removes his hand and pulls my dress down, smoothing it over my backside with a saint’s touch.

Behind me he moans with a sucking noise, and says, “So sweet.” His breath is hot on the back of my neck as he kisses me once on my hair. He leaves without another word.