Getting ready for the Christmas Eve service, I had decided to wear the same forest-green dress I’d bought last year; back then, it fit me perfectly. Underneath, I opted for a red lacy bra and a matching thong. As I pulled the dress on, I struggled to get it zipped and had to ask Mom for help.

In the year since I'd last worn it, my boobs had grown, resulting in a dangerously tight fit. It took some maneuvering, but Mom finally managed to zip it up. 

I gave myself a final look in the mirror, touched up my hair and makeup, and stepped into a pair of strappy heels. Mom liked to arrive early, and since she was a greeter for the service, she wanted to be there even sooner. 

Once we arrived, Mom busied herself with her greeting duties, letting me slip away toward the Father’s office. I knocked and peeked inside. "Elly! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. Come in, come in," he said, a big smile on his face.

He stepped forward and gave me a hug, as he always did. But when he pulled back, his expression turned slightly concerned. "Is that dress... appropriate for church?" he asked, his eyes lingering on my chest.

"It’s the same dress I wore for last year’s Christmas Eve service," I replied innocently. "Oh yes, I remember it now. It just wasn't quite as... full... as it is today."

I smiled and twisted my shoulders, rocking back and forth as his eyes dropped to my legs. Smiling again when he finally made eye contact with me.

"When were you last at confession?" he asked, his voice a bit more strained than before.

"Just before school started. So, about three months ago," I said, grinning.

He sat back at his desk, his expression hardening. "Don't you think you should confess your sins?"

I walked toward the front of his desk and leaned down, bracing my forearms on the polished wood, giving him a perfect, unobstructed view of my cleavage spilling out of my dress. "I’m sorry, Daddy," I said with a naughty smile. "I’ve been a very bad girl."

With a stern, almost reproving look on his face, he stood from his chair. I started to stand, but he gestured for me to stop. "Stay there. Like you were."

He picked up a wooden cross and stood beside me. Without another word, he lifted my dress, exposing my ass and red lace thong. "For the last time, Elly, it’s: 'Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.'" He hauled back and cracked me across the backside with the cross.

The sharp sting made me jump and let out a little yip.

"I see you aren't wearing very sensible panties to church," he noted before following up with another crack against my other butt cheek.

"Daddy, that stings," I whimpered, the pain mixing into pleasure.

"Are you going to confess your sins to me, Elly? Or are you going to continue to sass me?"

As he began to rub the smooth wooden cross over my reddening butt, my confessions began to spill out. I told him about everything I’d been doing over the past few weeks—the girls, the guys, the groups, and everything in between.

"What am I to do with you, Miss Elly? You seem to be filled with Satan’s thoughts. He has quite a grip on you." His hand replaced the cross, rubbing my warm, aching cheeks.

"I’ve been filled with more than just thoughts," I replied in a mocking, breathless tone.

His hand slid up my back and across my neck, suddenly tightening, taking a firm handful of my hair. He pulled me up to a standing position and turned me around to face him. "Now, Miss Elly, your penance. Kneel."

Without a word, I dropped to my knees. My butt rested on my heels, my hands were in my lap, and my back was straight. He stepped up in front of me and lifted his robe. There he hung in all his glory—his cock was long and thick, with large, low-hanging balls. It was a beautiful sight.

He stepped forward, just inches from my nose. I reached up, lightly taking his cock in my hand. I guided him to my mouth and wrapped my lips around the head. The head felt like velvet, smooth and delicious. I moved my head slowly, sliding him past my lips.

His cock grew steadily in my mouth, becoming longer and thicker with every passing second as I continued my "penance."

As he grew to his full size, the head of his cock began to press against the back of my mouth. I knew from experience that he would want me to take him deeper, and it wasn't long before he placed his "holy" hands on the sides of my head, his fingers wrapping firmly around the back.

He began to pull me toward him. I consciously lowered the back of my tongue, relaxing my throat to allow the head to slide past and deep into my gullet. He was fully erect. He took complete control, guiding the rhythm of my head with a firm, steady pressure.

Each time he pulled me tight against him, his cock filled my throat before sliding back out to my lips. He was feeding me his cock as if it were the only cure for my many sins, and I knelt there, a willing participant in his version of healing. The silence of the office was broken only by the muffled sound of the choir beginning their warm-ups in the distance.

The contrast was intoxicating—the sacred music drifting through the walls while I performed the most profane penance imaginable at the feet of the man supposed to lead my soul to salvation. He let out a low, guttural groan, his grip on my hair tightening as the pace of his hips increased.

Soon, he pulled back, sliding his large, hard cock from my lips. "Now, Miss Elly," he commanded, "bend over my desk as you were before."

I turned around and rested my weight on my forearms against the cool, polished wood of his desk. He lifted my dress once again and deftly removed my red lace panties. He dropped them into a desk drawer and shut it with a click, murmuring, "You have no need for these."

Moving in behind me, I felt the head of his cock slowly slide down the crack of my ass and then across my pussy. He teased me, moving up and down against my wanting and willing entrance. When he finally started to push his "holy" cock inside of me, my knees almost gave out from the sheer intensity. It felt amazing. He worked himself in deeper and deeper until his entire cock was fully enveloped by my body, and then he began a firm, steady pace, rhythmically fucking me against the edge of his desk.

The sound of his breathing filled the small office, occasionally punctuated by the slap of his body against mine. Every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through me, the friction of his cock against my walls making me arch my back and moan into the mahogany surface. He leaned over me, his chest pressing against my back, his hands gripping the edge of the desk for leverage as he drove himself into me with increasing fervor.

The haunting chant flowed from behind me, a low vibration that I felt through my spine as he pressed his chest firmly against my back. His voice was a guttural murmur, the Latin words sounding like an ancient incantation as he drove himself into me.

"Sub nocte tacita, ignis surgit.

Spiritus tremit, caro respondet.
Una caro, unus ignis.

Vox mea te vocat,
calor meus te trahit.
Tango, cedis, aperis.

Coniunge nos.
Solve me.
Mane."

With every rhythmic word, his thrusts became more primal. The air in the office grew thick, charged with the weight of the "penance" he was extracting. He wasn't just a priest anymore; he was a man possessed by the very "fire" he was chanting about.  

With a deep push and a long, guttural groan, his soul-saving seed poured out of his body and into mine. I felt the heavy warmth of him filling me, a silent and profound contrast to the sacred bells that were now tolling loudly just outside the office door. He held me there for a heartbeat longer, his forehead pressed against the back of my neck and his fingers digging into my hips, before he finally began to pull away.  

He reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a small, white linen cloth, and handed it to me without a word. I did my best to clean myself up while he smoothed his heavy robes back into place.

He looked at me one last time. "Go sit with your mother, Elly," he whispered, his voice returning to its calm, priestly tone. "And remember the weight of your penance."