Gracefully Aroused: The Best of K D Grace Read online

  Sadie couldn’t wait. Contritely tucked into her new bra, her bottom still stinging from the warden’s heavy hand, she was off to see the chaplain, content in knowing that the punishment was, indeed, worth the crime.

  Confessions

  Jilly pushed open the heavy wooden door and peeked inside. The pungent smell of incense and old candle wax brought on that familiar warm tingle just beneath her skin. In the subdued lighting of the vaulted nave, candles flickered on the altar. Her timing was perfect. Her research had paid off. No one prayed in the pews near the front. The few nuns who normally scurried about quietly had gone back to the convent, or wherever nuns went when they were done scurrying about. The only other person in the church would be the priest.

  She stepped inside and crossed herself. For a second she stood taking in the atmosphere of the place. It was late now. Her confession would be the last of the night, which was a good thing. She had a lot to confess. She loosened the black lace scarf that lay coiled around her neck and pulled it demurely up over her dark hair so that it settled like a hood about her head, shadowing the oval of her face in the soft light.

  She wore a full black skirt that swished low against the backs of her calves as she walked up the side aisle, her heels click-clicking on the stone floor. Her black silk blouse brushed softly against her skin. It was modestly buttoned to her throat, yet still it felt decadent in its very caress. The muscles low in her stomach contracted with nervous anticipation. Her pulse hammered against her throat as she drew near the confessional. Oh so much to confess, and she with nowhere else to be, nothing else to do but seek penance.

  Jilly stepped into the confessional and pulled the curtain shut carefully behind her. Then she dropped onto the kneeler and crossed herself. ‘Bless me, father, for I have sinned.’ She breathed in a layer cake scent of stale perfume and nervous sweat, the delicious remnant of so many people over so many years coming to confess so many sins. ‘It’s been a week since my last confession.’

  ‘Go on, my child.’

  Her pulse quickened at the sound of the priest’s voice. She could almost feel the weight of it against the nape of her neck.

  She lifted her skirt and sat back on the chair, wriggling her bare bottom against the cool wood. ‘I watched my neighbour have sex. She left the lights on, and the French doors were wide open.’

  There was silence, so she continued. ‘Her lover ripped her camisole off like it was paper. Do you have any idea what ripping silk sounds like, father?’ She laid her hand against her breasts and rocked. The chair creaked softly. ‘He sucked her nipples, and I sucked my fingertips pretending it was me at her breasts.

  ‘I watched him feel up inside her until she squirmed and begged. Then he ate her like she was ice cream melting on his tongue. Oh father, how I wanted to taste.

  ‘And he nearly split her in two, with his big cock pushing and pumping so hard her breasts juddered and bounced. The room was bright, like a stage, like she wanted me to see. Do you think she wanted me to see, father?’

  She heard rustling on the other side of the confessional. Had she made the priest’s cock hard? Her pussy tingled at the thought, and she rubbed herself against the chair.

  ‘Perhaps you should close your curtains. Perhaps you should pray.’

  ‘I do, father. I pray all the time.’ She pulled an onyx rosary from her pocket and stroked the smooth beads. Then she wriggled a hand inside her blouse to play with her titties. A little moan escaped her lips.

  ‘Is there more?’ the priest breathed.

  ‘I had sex with my roommate’s boyfriend. I didn’t plan it, father, really I didn’t. My roommate was out. At first we just masturbated together, but then I let him put it in me.’

  ‘Dear God.’ The priest’s breathing was nearly gale force.

  ‘Father, there’s more.’ She spread her legs wide and rubbed her juices over the hard wood of the chair wondering if the next penitent might get horny sitting in the scent of her arousal.

  ‘Yes?’ The priest’s voice sounded harsh, raspy.

  Jilly wriggled her hand under her skirt and shuddered as her slippery cunt yielded to her fingers. ‘Confession makes me come.’

  ‘What?’ His voice cracked.

  ‘I can’t help it. I always come at confession.’ For a second the only sound was heavy breathing. Then the priest spoke.

  ‘Did any of what you’ve confessed actually happen?’

  ‘Does it matter? As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he. Jesus said if we even look at someone in lust, we’ve committed adultery in our hearts. He said…’

  ‘I know what Jesus said.’

  ‘Last week, I confessed at St. Mark’s. I nearly broke the kneeler. The priest thought I was crying, I was so contrite. I came again during my Hail Marys and Our Fathers at St Andrew’s. I think the priest came too.’

  ‘Our father, who art in heaven,’ the priest rasped.

  ‘Hallowed be thy name.’ She joined in, rocking in rhythm.

  ‘Thy kingdom come, thy will be done.’ The words came faster and faster.

  ‘Giveusthisdayourdailybread!’

  Her silk blouse was now wide open and her braless tits bounced sharply as she rocked. She slipped the rosary over her head and the onyx crucifix smack-smacked between her breasts. The scarf with which she had covered her head slipped off and her hair fell loose around her shoulders.

  ‘Forgiveusourtrespassesasweforgivethosewhotresspassagainstus!’ She came hard against the chair, stifling a heavy grunt.

  She was wiping her pussy with the scarf when the curtain flew open, and the dishevelled priest stood breathing like a thunderstorm, smelling like sex.

  He grabbed her scarf and stuffed it in his pocket, then he yanked her up. She was ready. She’d been thrown out of other churches. That too made her come. Instead, he dragged her to a private chapel just off the nave. There was a bare altar with a painting of Solomon and the Queen of Sheba above it. He shoved her to her knees, grabbed her hair, and forced her to look up at him. ‘You’ve made a mockery of the confessional,’ he roared.

  ‘Oh please, Father, I just can’t help myself. You have to give me penance.’

  ‘Am I supposed to believe you?’ He wound his fingers tighter in her hair and pulled her closer.

  She wrapped her arms around his legs and sobbed. ‘Please. You don’t know how hard it is.’

  His penis twitched against her cheek. She’d never sucked consecrated cock before. Eyes raised, so terribly repentant, she batted her lashes and nuzzled nearer with a soft whimper.

  He shifted his hips, almost imperceptibly. Then, rocking slowly, tightly against her face, he prayed. ‘Heavenly Father, forgive this child. Forgive her lust, forgive her lewd behaviour.’

  The longer he prayed, the harder he pressed her face against his erection.

  ‘Grant her purity in thought, word and deed.’

  As he rocked, ever so cautiously, she reached up and unbuttoned his trousers.

  He pretended not to notice as she eased down his zipper.

  ‘For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.’

  His grip tightened in her hair and he caught his breath with a gasp as she tugged his trousers over his hips along with his briefs. His cock practically leapt into her hand.

  ‘Please forgive… please forgive… urgh.’

  She took his erection in her mouth, deeper and deeper, until he moaned out loud and stopped pretending not to thrust.

  She was beginning to fear he had no more imagination than to simply stand there and ejaculate in her mouth, when he shoved away and yanked her to her feet. He pulled the rosary from her neck and, with a sharp thwack, slapped it across her tits, just hard enough to sting. ‘You’re a slut, and you need to repent.’ He smacked her again and she moaned as he shoved her blouse off onto the floor. Then he grabbed her tits, squeezing and kneading. The rosary wound around his hand pressed solicitously into the soft swell of her. She arched her back as he suckled and bit her nipples. Pain
translated to pleasure in her cunt.

  He bound her hands loosely behind her back with her scarf and bent her over the altar. ‘Our lives are to be a living sacrifice unto the Lord.’ He shoved her skirt up, exposing her arse to Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. He smacked each buttock in turn with the rosary, making her pussy clench.

  ‘Forgive me,’ she cried. ‘Lord, please forgive me.’ The beads came down again with a thwack.

  ‘This–’ he slapped her pussy with the flat of his hand ‘–is consecrated unto the Lord. This–’ he smacked her again ‘–is the sacred space from which life springs. It wasn’t created for lust.’

  ‘I’m so ashamed,’ she lied.

  He smacked her bottom again with the beads, then he began to pray for her in earnest, grunting with each thwack of the beads.

  ‘Father forgive this woman, purify her heart.’

  Thwack!

  She cried out and wriggled her stinging arse.

  ‘Purify her mind.’

  Thwack!

  She practically humped the edge of the altar with every smack. ‘Purify her body, so abused by her lust.’

  Thwack!

  When her orgasm hit, she squealed and bucked and practically kicked the priest in the balls.

  He jammed the rosary into his pocket and fumbled and grunted in an effort to press his cock into her pout.

  ‘No so fast, father.’ She pushed him away and half fell off the altar, wriggling her hands free of the scarf. ‘I think it’s about time you confessed.’ She shoved him against the wall.

  ‘Take off your shirt.’ She was already at work on his buttons. ‘Take that off too.’ She nodded to the collar.

  Panting hard, he obeyed.

  She slipped into his black shirt, buttoning a single button across the fullness of her breasts. ‘Help me with the collar.’

  He did as he was told.

  When it was securely in place, she scooped up her blouse, then looped the scarf around his neck and tugged.

  Holding up his trousers with one hand, while his cock bounced at full attention, he followed her into the confessional.

  ‘Kneel.’

  He obeyed.

  ‘You’ve been a very naughty priest.’ She slipped off her skirt and stood in nothing but his black shirt and priest’s collar and her fuck-me stilettos, then she took his hand and guided it between her legs.

  His other hand reached for his cock. She slapped it away. ‘I want to hear your confession.’

  He took his hand from her pussy and crossed himself. ‘Bless me, father, for I have sinned. It’s been…’

  She slapped his face with a resounding smack, and his penis surged in response. ‘I’m not your father. Now do it again.’

  He stroked his cheek, which now bore her hand print.

  ‘Do it.’

  He crossed himself and started over. ‘Bless me… lady? For I have sinned. It’s been 12 hours since my last confession.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I maa… I masturbated during the confession of a penitent.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Did you touch yourself through your trousers or did you pull your cock out while this poor girl unburdened her soul to you. Well?’

  ‘I… I had my penis out.’

  ‘Show me.’

  ‘Please, I was wrong to…’

  ‘I said show me.’

  He blushed mightily, but once his hand was on the meat all shame vanished. He thrust his hips back and forth and stroked like he was rolling dice, his breath coming in hungry gasps.

  ‘What did this sinner confess, father, that so turned you on?’

  ‘That she watched other people do it.’ He strained against his hand, his buttock muscles clenching with each thrust. ‘That she fornicated, that she…’

  ‘That she what?’

  ‘That she masturbated at confession.’ His voice was as clenched as his buttocks.

  She slapped his hand away from his cock again. ‘What else?’

  He looked up at her dumbly.

  ‘Your confession. What else?’

  ‘I… I ejaculated.’

  ‘Mmm. I can smell,’ she said. ‘But you’re not supposed to do such things.’

  ‘She tricked me.’

  ‘Then you must have kicked her out of the church?’

  He shook his head, squirming on the kneeler.

  ‘What then?’

  ‘I let her suck me, then I spanked her.’

  ‘No doubt she deserved it. What else?’

  ‘Nothing else.’

  She slapped him again. ‘As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.’

  ‘I wanted to– to have sex with her.’

  ‘You’re as sinful as she is.’ She grabbed the scarf and yanked him back into the chair. ‘I think it’s time for your penance. There’ll be no Our Fathers, no Hail Marys. I have a better use for your tongue.’

  She turned in front of him and bent over until her arse was in his face, then she tugged the scarf, guiding his mouth to her slit. He suckled and nibbled, holding her to him, cupping and spreading her buttocks, licking and stroking until his fingers explored their way, first to her cunt, then, slowly, almost shyly, he slipped his middle finger into her anus.

  It felt good, but she wouldn’t let him off so easily. She pulled him to his feet and wiped his face on the scarf. Then she kissed him, tasting her pussy on his accommodating tongue. ‘Celibacy doesn’t look so good right now, does it, father? But you’re not allowed to come until you choose the method.’

  ‘Choose the method?’

  ‘I’m asking you how do you want to come? It’s not a difficult question.’ Facing him, she guided his penis between her legs, clamped down, and began to dry hump him. ‘Do you like this? Would you like to shoot your wad this way? Or would you prefer to come in my hand, maybe in your hand? Perhaps my mouth would do it for you?’ She pressed down hard so his cock rubbed between her labia each time he humped. ‘Or you can take your chances with the wrath of God and have some real pussy.’ She leant close to lick his earlobe. ‘Personally, if there is a god, I think she has bigger concerns than where you spurt your jizz.’

  ‘What about here?’ He slipped his middle finger back in her anus so quickly that her breath caught in her throat.

  She laughed softly, then she grabbed him by the scarf and forced him to kneel. ‘Confess that you want to fuck my arsehole, father, I want to hear your confession.’

  ‘Bless me, lady, for I have sinned. I want to fu…’

  ‘Say it.’

  ‘I want to fuck your arsehole.’

  ‘There, that wasn’t so hard now, was it? I grant you absolution.’ Then she turned and bent over the chair.

  In the tight space, he manoeuvred until her arse was right in his face. He wasn’t squeamish. He parted her cheeks, and circled her pucker hole with his tongue, pushing in solicitously. She moaned and squirmed as he inserted a wet finger, then another, moving them back and forth inside to stretch her, stimulating her until he had room for a third.

  She groaned at the exquisite pressure and forced her bottom closer to his mouth. Her stretched anus felt like it was on fire. With one hand Jilly finger-fucked her pout while bracing herself against the chair with the other.

  At last, when her slit thrummed from the stimulation of her backside, he removed his fingers. She heard him spit and felt his warm saliva in her crack. Then, with a little gasp, he pressed the head of his cock into her hole. Finally, with a grunt and a shove, he was in, pushing her face hard against the chair that smelled like her cunt.

  Then, to her surprise, he began to stuff the rosary beads into her pussy with each thrust until only the crucifix dangled from her vulva. The fullness of her cunt and her arsehole, combined with the movement of the beads with each thrust, was beyond maddening. The priest humped harder and faster. His balls slapped against her bottom. With each thrust, he grunted breathlessly, ‘Oh God, oh God!’

  She joined the chant
. ‘Oh God, oh God!’

  With a thrust that she feared would split her in two, he exploded inside her. At the same instant, he grabbed the crucifix like the pin of a hand grenade and yanked the beads from her pussy. The explosion nearly knocked the confessional over.

  When they were dressed again, he kissed the rosary and placed it over her head. ‘I can’t grant you absolution when I know you’re not repentant.’

  She chuckled softly. ‘I came for the confession, not the absolution.’ She wrapped her pussy-stained scarf around his neck and drew him into a kiss.

  ‘Will I see you next week?’ he breathed when she pulled away.

  ‘Afraid not, padre. There’s a church across town I’ve got my eye on. I hear the priest there believes in heavy penance for sinners like me, and thanks to you, I have so much more to confess.’ She sighed and laid her hand against her breasts. ‘Heavens. I don’t know if I can wait till next week. She turned and walked out of the deserted church.

  Excavations

  ‘Go on, Gina,’ Mike said, nodding to the small stand of oak and beech trees where the Professor stood having what he no doubt thought was a private moment. ‘I dare you.’

  ‘Shut up,’ I hissed. ‘He’ll hear us.’

  ‘If you can’t heat up the Ice Man, who can? I know you want to.’ Mike gave me a playful shove in the Professor’s direction, and I responded with an elbow in his ribs resulting in a low grunt. I couldn’t take my eyes off the man in the trees giving himself a good grope. He’d asked us to call him Ed, but since I was only a lowly volunteer who never got close enough to have a real conversation with him, I still thought of him as the Professor. Seeing him this way was like a fantasy come true. Possibly he had stepped into the trees for a pee, but he certainly wasn’t anxious to zip up and get back to work. I wasn’t sure he could even if he’d wanted to. He leant back against a tree. His eyes were closed, his fly was open. His cock was at full attention in one hand. The other scooped in his pants to ease his balls from their constraint. For ages he stood there motionless, chest rising and falling in deep breaths, just holding himself.

  He was unshaven, hair slightly mussed, like he’d just got out of bed. He always looked that way, and I fantasised that it was my bed he’d just gotten out of. His T-shirt was pushed up to reveal the hard slope of his belly and the inviting path of dark hair that led down from his navel to his cock. The ache in my pussy had me shifting from foot to foot, and in sudden danger of hyperventilating. I wouldn’t have given Mike a second glance if I’d had any indication that the Professor was even slightly interested in me.