Whore In Church Ch 02

It felt like hours as the moments ticked by while she secretly sat in the confessional. The mix of fear and excitement was heady, and her hand travelled down beneath her coat. She ran her fingers lightly up the inside of her smoothly shaven thigh. She was sweating between her legs. No longer were there goosebumps. Suddenly this enclosed space seemed to feel very, very hot.

Her fingers lightly traced the outside of her pussy lips, and she nearly moaned out loud at the pleasure. She was shaved smooth here too. Her pussy was practically coating her two fingers, and she hadn't even reached into her molten center. She smoothed her juices around her swollen outer lips slowly, savoring the way her cunt felt. Then she shook her head and smiled. The thought, "her cunt" was no longer apt. This dripping wet sex pot was no longer her cunt, it was His. Her body, even her soul perhaps, belonged wholly to her master.

Make no mistake, however was not a sex slave. She didn't spend her days chained up in some mansion, parading around wearing chains and leather. By all outward appearances, she was an average woman, in her mid-thirties. Cosmo might say she was at her sexual peak. The writers at Cosmo didn't know a damn thing about her relationship with her Sir, but they were dead on that she was experiencing a sexual blossoming like nothing she had even imagined previously.

Sir was her senior by 20 years, but he fucked better than any man she'd ever had. Apparently, his years brought a wealth of knowledge on how to please a woman. And please her he did. He satisfied her sexual needs in ways she hadn't even known she needed. Somehow, it was as if he knew her better than she knew herself-especially her sexuality. He told her, in the beginning, it was his supreme goal to make a woman live out her most intimate fantasies, to make them cum over and over, and like never before.

Yes, He was her master, and they did have the dom/sub relationship, but his goal was always to push her to the edge of her boundaries and perhaps just beyond. He was her professor. The subject was pleasure, and she had always been an eager student. She would give him free reign, and follow his directions explicitly, and he took her to ecstasy again and again.

She couldn't have imagined this relationship a few years ago. Now, she couldn't imagine being without him. He was a centering force for her. He knew how to calm her, when she became emotional, whether with tenderness, or punishment. Because she did need punishment, she got edgy when she hadn't had a session with him where he mixed the pain with pleasure.

She had always been aroused by S & M fantasies, from her earliest pubescent fumblings with boys in back seats. She would shyly suggest handcuffs or that a boyfriend would spank her. One time in college, she even went into a sex shop, and bought a riding crop with her partner. They had played with the crop only once. He hesitantly spanked her ass with it, trying it out, more than bringing her pain. She was left disappointed with his lack of performance, though she had gotten off on the experience of being spanked with a crop. Thereafter, he playfully threatened to spank her once in a while, and she always looked forward to it, but he never seemed to follow through.

It had been the same way with other men. No matter the partner she was with, they never seemed comfortable with striking her, with bringing her pleasure through pain. They couldn't understand how deeply she needed someone to bend her over and spank her, to clamp her nipples, to slap her skin with an open hand, a belt, a crop. Just the thought of that exquisite pain made her pussy a puddle of sex juice. But her previous boyfriends simply weren't up to the task of rough sex. They worried they would break her somehow, or perhaps leave her with bruises. Now, with her master, if their sex left bruises, she wore his markings as a badge of honor.

So, for her entire adult life, she had fingered and vibrated herself to orgasm reading erotica and watching porn filled with the punishment, the pain, the anticipation, the absolute abandonment she so desperately wanted for herself. Until one day, online, and quite by accident, she had stumbled onto his account and was instantly attracted to him. The images he posted were incredibly erotic, depicting S & M scenes. She was instantly wet, and she clicked on one of the pictures he posted.

Almost immediately, he responded, asking about her interest in the subject. She remembered flushing with embarrassment, and feeling excitement at the same time. Their flirtatious communications began from there, and she started telling him things that she hadn't told anyone else. She told him her fantasies, the way that S & M made her feel, though she had never had an acceptable partner with whom to truly explore this side of her sexuality.

Through the weeks and months, they talked more and more, and she began to trust him with intimate parts of herself, surrendering her body and mind to him, and he showed her just how adept he was at making her fantasies become reality.

Now, months later, here she was, in this confessional, rubbing her pussy, waiting for her master to carry out whatever devilish plan he had for her tonight. And dear god she was wet!

Just then, lost in her thoughts and sensations, she heard someone enter the booth next to her, and she froze with fear. Holy shit! she thought. Just great! I'm going to be caught here by a priest and I'll die of mortification as they toss me out of this sanctimonious place. The tiny window between the partition slid open, and she heard a familiar voice.

She could almost hear the smirk when He said in a lowered tone, "How are you doing in here, Angel?"

She sagged against the wall with relief. He was toying with her. He had her in here edging herself, and he had joined her, so close and yet she had no way to be with him. She could smell his clean scent. He smelled like raw male animal sex to her, every time she was with him. She craved that scent. It triggered memories and made her vaginal walls clench. He could smell her arousal as well. Could nearly taste her on his tongue. His raging erection pressed hard against his black slacks.

"I'm doing quite well, Sir" she whispered to him. "Though you gave me a quite a scare there."

"Oh?" he asked in feigned surprise. "Were you worried you'd be found out as my cock hungry slut?"

"Yes Sir" she admitted.

"Well, we'll only be waiting her a few more moments, and then the final clergy members should be gone. Then we'll have the place to ourselves. I made sure that the priest knew that I was the last one here, then I left out the door. He didn't see me, when I quickly let myself back in, to come join you. We'll wait a while longer though, to be sure."

"Yes Sir" was all she managed to say, but her mind was racing. She was going to be alone here in this church with him. She had expected that he might visit her in the confessional, might even fuck her there, while she had to remain quiet, so as not to give them away. She had no idea his plans included being alone in the church with him. Simply by themselves, with nobody around. It made sense that there was likely little need for security at a place like this. However, the thought that they would remain undiscovered seemed perhaps a bit implausible to her.

"Meanwhile, you may begin dipping your fingers into that hot little cunt now, my dirty whore." His tone was deep and low. Nearly a growl from his throat. He sounded like a beast. He was her beast, and he took her like one on many occasions, feral and wild, racking her body with orgasm after orgasm as he fucked her mercilessly.

She slid two of her fingers into her hot core, and she could physically feel the anal plug from inside her. She massaged herself inside, and nearly came from the pent up sensations. He could hear her panting from the other side of the partition. He knew she was close. His cock was hard as steel. His fingers tingled at the thought of touching her. He pressed his palms to his thighs as he watched through the screened window.

"Yessss, my slut," he whispered. "You may cum now, but remember we're not yet alone." He began rubbing his cock through his trousers. Precum was making a stain on the front. She looked so hot, fingering herself to orgasm. He knew she would have trouble keeping quiet while she came. She had never been quiet when she orgasmed, and he often toyed with this weakness when they were in public. She wanted desperately to cum, but also feared that she would lose control and make a sound. What a wicked man he was! Deliciously wicked in every way.

She pushed her fingers deeper and faster, moving her hips greedily to meet her hand, the butt of her palm crashing into her clit as she unleashed her orgasm and drew in a massive breath. Immediately, her free hand flew to her mouth, and she bit her clenched fist as she rode the waves of ecstasy, and her own palm, like a dog humping a leg. He could hear her struggling not to moan, hear her breathing hot and heavy. He was very pleased with his fuckslut. A huge grin was on his face, and he had pulled his own cock out of his pants to stroke it. He would not cum yet. He had much bigger plans. He would have so much fun with her this evening, toying with his little slut, his bitch in heat, his whore in church.