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SIENNA’S POV
Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned… and my p***y is already f*****g soaked.
I stepped into the old wooden confessional booth with my heart hammering so hard I could feel it between my legs. The heavy velvet curtain fell shut behind me, trapping the scent of polished oak, candle wax, and something darker—incense mixed with pure, forbidden lust.
The grate in front of me was thin, carved with tiny crosses. On the other side, I heard the soft rustle of fabric and then his voice—low, smooth, and so deep it slid straight down my spine like warm oil.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” I whispered, my thighs already pressing together under my short sundress. “It has been… one year since my last confession.”
A pause. Then that velvet-gravel voice answered, calm but comma
