Good Submissive Slut Knows Sunday’s are for Worship

Sundays are for worship:

Good submissive slut always knows Sunday’s are for worship. I never usually linger in church after the service, always darting out the door the moment the last hymn ended. Sunday mornings had been more routine than refuge, a weekly obligation passed down from my parents. But that day, something held me back. Or, rather, someone did….

Father Elijah stood near the altar, his back to me as he spoke with a few parishioners. There was a calm strength to him, a sexy confidence I found impossible to ignore. Like a good submissive slut I noticed the dominance in him. It trickled out in the steady cadence of his voice, the way his words seemed to sink into the souls of those who came seeking comfort while they confessed their darkest sins. Somehow, they always seemed to sink into me, too. In a much different way.

A good submissive slut just knows.

I was about to leave when he looked up, his gaze meeting mine with such startling directness that I felt rooted to the spot. The quick panic of fear flashed through my eyes. It came from deep within my core radiating from between my legs like a good submissive slut.  A faint smirk creeped up his lips, the kind that felt both predatory and knowing where it grew from. His eyes ran over me from head to toe nodded toward me, as if “good submissive slut” was written all over my face.

“Skylar,” he called, and hearing my name made my heart do a strange little leap, like a good submissive slut. “Stay for a moment.” Not even a question, just an order. I glanced toward the door, then back at him. I felt a pull I couldn’t explain, an urge to say yes even as my common sense begged me to go. But I nodded, finding myself walking up the aisle, my footsteps echoing in the silence.

He gestured for me to follow him to the confessional like a good submissive slut.

I was close enough to him that I could smell the faint, earthy cologne he wore. My cheeks burned as I sat, hands clutched tightly in my lap like a good submissive slut. He settled on the other side of the screen, just close enough that I could feel his presence—a heat that made me acutely aware of how alone we now were in the vast, empty church. “I’ve noticed you seem… tense,” he said, his voice soft but somehow piercing.

I swallowed, feeling the words sit heavy in my throat. He was right, of course. I had been feeling lost, adrift in ways I didn’t know how to explain. But somehow, under his gaze, the truth felt dangerously close to spilling out. “I don’t know,” I whispered, keeping my eyes down as a good submissive slut should. “I’ve learned some things about myself lately that I guess I’m still trying to process…”
For a long moment, he didn’t speak. Then, his eyes drifted toward mine, his fingers brushing gently against his rosary beads. Focusing on one bead in particular, he rubbed it in slow circles. “Sometimes,” he murmured, his voice thick and soft, “we search in places we’d never have imagined for release.”

I lifted my gaze, meeting his eyes.

They were warm, but there was something dark there, too—Hunger. His eyes lingered over mine, and I felt my pulse quicken, my heart pounding in my chest. Every rational part of me knew I should leave, should say something to break the tension humming between us. But I stayed, caught up in his gaze, in that unspoken pull that neither of us seemed able to resist. “Father…” I whispered, not even knowing what I wanted to say, only that I didn’t want this moment to end. “I’m here to help you find that release, Skylar. I just need you to obey like the good submissive slut you are.” He managed to say in a low sexy growl. “I want to see you unburdened. Confess your sins.”  My eyes couldn’t stop focusing on those slow circles as words escaped me.

“Would you prefer an act of contrition if you can’t find the words?” My legs clenched together involuntarily and I leaned forward looking for that pressure on my pussy that the bench could provide.
“Yes, Father… what would you have me do?” I saw the grin reappear as his resolve broke.
“Obey every word…” His robes shifted and I saw just how hard he had become in the short time we had been talking. “Slide down your panties, get on your knees, pray for me. We are both going to have a few more things to confess by the time I’m done with you…”

Do I ever find the release I so desperately need? Do I obey like the good submissive slut I am? Call me see what dirty secrets I confessed.

Call Skylar 1-888-856-5921