25 | Confessional

**SIENNA**


Self-preservation was known to be the law of nature, and around this man—this formidable priest—I felt it to the marrow of my bones.
Whenever I was around Gabriel, I found my gaze drawn to him and skimmed my eyes over his perfect body form. His shaped torso, the broad shoulders, and the strong column of his neck. Even though the unmistakable collar sat affixed there, it did nothing but make me want him more.
I did not understand this feeling.
He was thirteen years older than me, and yet I was enamoured. He intrigued and fascinated me more than any gorgeous men of the New York City that I have come across. And having the last name Emerson made them flatter me all the more.
But I was not the only one who was enthralled by Gabriel’s charm because he was equally captivated by me. His eyes were smoky in lust, a hunger so deep that it could consume me as a whole. And that unexpected knowledge filled me with a surge of power. It made me feel indomitable against this man I should fear. And yet, I felt none.
The biggest of the revelation would be his manhood poking my belly. It was a glaring testament of his arousal when he was spanking me in earnest.
By the time I had returned to my dorm, heady and bemused, it was already late. My ass throbbed, setting a constant reminder of his spanking and his touch. For a moment, I thought he would just give in and touch me, but he did not. His palm lingered, the warmth spreading through my skin over the fabric of my skirt and stimulated. But nothing had materialised.
However, there was also something I felt that I haven’t in the longest of time.
It was peace.
Lying there on his lap, a little helpless and confused, every smack from his hand silenced the chaos inside my head. There were no snarky classmates, no Zak Abbott filtering into my head, no regret over the past…nothing. It was as if someone waved a wand and erased all the bad memories, leaving behind a wealth of serenity.
How did this happen? How did Gabriel meld the pain and pleasure so beautifully to the point I could not separate the two? And most importantly, did I want the pain or pleasure?
I breathed in a jerky sigh at the thought and fell asleep against the pillows. Surprisingly, it was one of the deepest nights of my life. I slept as soundly as the night he had made me run laps in the middle of the night because he had caught me lurking around the compound.
I only woke up in the wee hours of the morning the next day with a vivid dream of a man fucking me like a caveman. He had a dangerous glint in his eyes, strong corded hands that held me down beneath him and wore a black frock.
When my eyes flashed opened and my skin beaded with drops of sweat, I knew who that man was even though I did not see his face in my dream. But the cues were more than enough for me to grow slick between my legs.
I immediately sat up and dug my fingers into my dishevelled hair, trying to calm my erratic breathing. For a moment, I had considered knocking on Gabriel’s door, just to know whether he was feeling as restless as I was.
But I was sure of one thing when I left his rectory last evening: he was as affected in some ways that I did not want to admit.

************

The next day at school was uneventful. Classes went on for hours with the exception of lunch breaks or any other activities according to the timetable, and there was no sign of Gabriel.
Even the classes he was assigned were taken up by some other teachers, which frustrated me because I did not understand his disappearance. This went on for three days.
I have only seen Gabriel at the church during the morning Mass, and given the way he’d avert his eyes, it led me to believe that he was avoiding me. But why?
Did he feel guilty for what he did? Whatever happened between us was purely non-sexual.
It was still fucking wrong: my mind screamed.
Maybe. Between his arousal and mine, Gabriel and I had crossed a line that we both did not mind.
Several unanswered questions and doubts vexed me for the past few days, and I was tired of looking for answers alone. So, when I had overheard a bunch of giggling sophomore girls that he would be taking the confessional duty instead of Father Lucas, I decided to confront him.
As soon as the school got over, I rushed towards the booth and waited around for the handful of girls to dissipate. And all the while, anticipation gnawed at my guts.
Firstly, I have never been inside a confessional, even though the tedious religious aspects were being taken care of after I had joined Mount Carmel.
And secondly, if Gabriel—Father Sullivan—would be sitting inside at all, what would I exactly confess?
Finally, when there was not a soul lurking around, I reached for the door with sweaty, trembling fingers and stepped inside. The compartment was spacious for a single person with a small, latticed opening and a bench. I tried to see the person sitting on the other side, but it was a little too dark to comprehend.
I squirmed a little, rubbing my palm against the skirt and cleared my throat. “It’s weird,” I commenced shakily. “Should I start with something like…Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned?”
There was a heavy silence for a long beat before I heard his voice.
“Usually, yes. That’s the norm.”
“Oh, thank God, it’s you.” I blew out a breath that I did not realise I was holding back for so long. “I overheard the girls saying that you are taking the confessional duty instead of Father Lucas.”
“Yes, he is unwell.”
“I have heard. I hope he recovers soon, but I am also glad that you are behind the screen.”
He took another pregnant pause. “What is your confession?” he asked in a manner he must have learnt in the seminary.
It almost made me laugh a little. “Umm…you don’t beat around the bush, do you? Right, my confession,” I drawled and hauled in a long breath for what I was about to say.
Initially, I had no idea. But suddenly, I wanted to speak up my mind without giving a damn to the consequences that could follow.
“I had a dream last night,” I revealed. “It was pretty vivid and vibrant, something along the lines of forbidden sex and rough foreplay.”
The silence that settled inside the confessional booth was so fraught that I could hear that heavy intake of his inhale and exhale.
I waited. One heartbeat, then two and three…
“You can start your penance with—”
“I am not done yet,” I cut in with my reasons. “The dream was involuntary, meaning I had no control over my subconscious brain when I was sleeping, but it was just a prelude to everything that followed next.”
“And what exactly followed next?” Gabriel encouraged from the other side.
“I touched myself,” I blurted out without a shred of guilt or remorse in my body. It was more of a revelation than a confession for me. 
“Like I said, the dream was just a prelude, and I craved more. So I imagined what could have happened that night and made myself come. And I came imagining your fingers inside my pussy.”
“You are not the first penitent who sinned with flesh. Our body is wired to seek pleasure. So, feelings and desires grow once you are of age,” he said almost in a mechanical tone that almost made my blood boil.
It took me every ounce of courage to come in here and speak my mind, and he was delivering me some made-up shit. I almost wanted to go to the other side and smack his face but resisted.
“That is all you have to say, Gabriel?”
His shadow darkened through the lattice. “What else do you want to hear, *sinner*?”