He’s got two fingers inside me now, pumping slow and deep, oil squelching loud in the quiet sacristy. My wrists are still bound with his stole. My t**s are red from the rosary beads slapping them. Every time he twists his fingers I feel it in my soul.
“Am I going to hell for this?” I whimper.
He laughs low. “You’re already there, baby girl. And you love it.”
He adds more oil, three fingers now, stretching my tight virgin hole wider. The burn is so good I’m drooling. His thumb finally presses my c**t proper, rubbing fast slippery circles. My legs shake. I’m right there.
“Please Daddy… let me c*m… I’ll do anything…”
He stops. Pulls his fingers out completely. I sob at the emptiness, p***y clenching on nothing.
“Not until you’re on the altar where you belong.”
He lifts me like I’m noth
