Save Our Soul

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Sinner is redeemed by holy man
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When I'd first approached him, I wasn't sure that he could help me. I had been raised as a very strict catholic, and had never had sex with anyone except my husband, who I married three years ago. But I had begun to feel restless in the last 12 months. I had always imagined having sex with other men, but I had started wearing provocative clothes, both around the house and when I went out. I enjoyed sex with my husband, but I couldn't stop flirting with other men. I flirted with bus drivers, delivery men, even the kid in the supermarket. I paraded myself around my home naked, and left the curtains open.

I knew I was playing with fire. One day, the postman asked me to sign for a letter, and I answered the door wearing nothing but a tiny robe. The postman seemed in his early forties, with very short fair hair and he wasn't anything special. But the thought of screwing him used to make me hot and juicy. Maybe it was the uniform, I had a thing about them, or maybe it was his flirtatious, cheeky smile. He was staring at the hem of my robe, which just about covered by bare behind. I brazenly adjusted the tie in front of him, so that the opening moved and gave him a flash of my vagina. He put his hand inside my robe while I signed for the letter, and within minutes I was on my hands and knees in the hallway being fucked from behind by my randy postman.

That was it then, he came by most days. But it still wasn’t enough. I bought a secret store of sex toys, and loved to go shopping with a vibrator inside me. I used to suck off the kid in the supermarket, who was definitely no more than twenty. He'd take me to a storage area at the back of the shop, and I would let him play with my tits before taking his cock out and putting it hungrily in my mouth.

I loved being so bad, but I knew it was really wrong. My religious conscience nagged at me, even more so given the fact that it used to make my sexual encounters even more thrilling. My husband would be so hurt if he knew, and when I thought of the shame I would bring on my family who were all good church going people, I would get so upset.

But still it wasn't enough to stop me from getting my sick thrills from being looked at and having sex with men I hardly knew. One of my favourite things was to get undressed in front of my bedroom window. I knew the house that looked over the back of our home was occupied by a man who had lived alone since his wife had left him. Mr Carroll was in his fifties, and not even slightly attractive.

But it didn't stop me putting on a show for him. He'd spied on me for years, knowing that I got a shower around the same time every morning. I used to shut the curtains on him, but lately I had left them open, loving the idea of a dirty peeping tom wanking while he looked at me play with myself. I used to strip down to a see through bra and masturbate on the bed using my biggest vibrator. I loved to do it lying back, but my favourite was kneeling against the bed, side on from him, while I sucked on my finger. I even used to screw my horny postman on my bed in front of the window, or in the kitchen with the light on, knowing that my peeping tom would be watching us.

It was to be my undoing though. One day my front doorbell rang. It was about 10 minutes after the postman had left after ramming his hard cock up me against the wall in my bedroom after I had done a sexy striptease for him. I knew that that Mr Carroll could see us, and I had smiled at him while he watched me being fucked. But I was shocked when 10 minutes later, he was standing on my doorstep. I panicked, and tried to close the door, but he put his foot against it.

"Come on, I just want to see you in the flesh so to speak. I want a piece of what that lucky bastard got this morning."

I was appalled. His greasy hair was combed over his head to hide a bald patch, and his belly was pressing against the buttons of his shirt. Even though I got a real thrill from him spying on me, the thought of him touching me was nauseating. I refused and he threatened to tell Nick, my husband, what I got up to while he was out at work.

So I knew I had to stop what I was doing, and come clean. I told Nick that night, and although he was shocked and angry, I begged his forgiveness and he listened to me as I sobbed. He is a devout catholic, and I knew he wouldn't give up on our marriage. But he made me promise to stop and get some help. I was so grateful I agreed, determined to stop being such a slut. He decided that I must undergo counselling at the church if our marriage was to be saved. He telephoned Father O'Neill, who is our parish priest, and explained the situation to him.

I felt I was beyond help, and my recent actions were proof of the fact that I was out of control. I would pray with Father O'Neill, and confess my sins. But he helped me see that it wasn't me. He convinced me that I am basically a good person and that I am being tortured by a demonic spirit who was making me act like a slut. He told me how the devil especially loves to corrupt the souls of good people, those who know and feel the power of good. I was so grateful to him for not condemning me, and for trying to help me.

I knew he would save me and Nick and I readily agreed to an exorcism to rid me of the whore spirit. Father O'Neill explained that it would be a simple exercise, not at all as frightening as it was made out to be. And afterwards I would be healed and would be able to live normally and come to mass with a clear conscience. He told me that he would need to come to my house, and perform the exorcism in the same room where I had desecrated the marital bed. He has told me that I must do the rosary every night to prepare for the ordeal, and that I must be ready to do anything to help him in his mission.

So, here I am, after some weeks of prayers and confessions, alone in my bedroom with Father O'Neill. It is early evening and Nick is at mass, praying for my soul. I know that I am really in need of Father O'Neill's help, and that I must be prepared for whatever happens. I trust him completely; he’s a good priest.

Father O’Neill starts by praying, and we pray together. He places his hand on my head and kisses my forehead. He smiles reassuringly, puts his hands on my breasts and feels the devil in my heart. He tells me the badness is there and he is going to make it go away. He asks me to open my blouse and rips apart my bra with surprisingly rough hands. He sprinkles cold holy water on my breasts and is looking at me, waiting for me to confess my sins. But I am too shy to speak yet.

He is obviously determined to cast out my demon. He reaches out and circles my breasts with his fingertips while praying in Latin. He is very intense and serious, which has always attracted me to him. His obvious devotion to his vocation is somehow belied by the fact that he is dark and sensual looking. He gives the impression of being slightly hairy. Not overly so, but enough to remind his female parishioners that he is very much a man. He is balding slightly and this only adds to the impression of virility I have always had of him. I have often wondered what it must be like for someone who looks so sexual to have to live a celibate life.

He is caressing my bare breasts with his hands, which are large, and he is making me tingle. I am scared to look at him, but when I do he is looking at my tits, still speaking softly in Latin. He smiles at me reassuringly, and then moves his head so that his breath is on my wet skin as he prays. I feel shivers up my spine, and he kisses my nipples tenderly.

“I am going to draw this evil out. It is a sex demon, and there is only one way to handle this. You must place your trust in me completely. Only then will I be able to free you from it.”

He starts to suck on my tits, and the sensation is so shockingly horny, that my legs give way, and I sink to my knees in front of him. He follows me to the floor, so that he can continue touching me. It seems so sinful, to have Father O’Neill touch me like this. I know that he is helping me, but the demon is making me feel sexy and bad. And it feels so delicious; he is holding my breasts while his lips and tongue softly move all over them. I am ashamed that my nipples are hard it makes me feel dirty and bad in front of Father O’Neill.

The tightness inside me is pulling on my senses and thoughts, and I am hot and wet. It is driving me crazy and I want to touch him back. But I can’t bring myself to show him how bad I really am.

“I need to see if the demon is there, if it is ready to show itself to me.” His voice is so gentle and deep it makes me shiver, and I nod. We are still kneeling, close enough to feel the heat from each other. He moves his hand slowly up my skirt, caressing up my thigh like a lick of fire, until he reaches my panties. He slips his hand inside and I moan as he touches my pussy. I can’t stop myself from moving against his hand.

“Yes, it’s there. I can feel it.” He slides a finger into me and the sensation of Father O’Neil gently finger fucking me makes me bite my lip to stop from crying out. I bury my head into his black robe, and he smells like a mixture of male skin and church. His finger is still fucking me and I can hardly stand it. I want more and more. I start to moan and gasp, and his finger starts fucking me harder.

“Let it come. That’s it, yes…you need to come don’t you?”

He takes hold of my breast with his other hand and rubs his thumb imperceptibly over my nipple. I can hear myself begging him to finger me harder, and calling him bad names. I sound like a dirty slut, calling him a horny bastard and telling him I want to taste his cock. I rock against his hand as an orgasm takes over me and I cry out. It subsides slowly, and I feel like I want to cry and I turn my head away from him, ashamed.

“Is that it, Father? Has it gone?” I ask.

“No my child. I have to do more – it is weakened, but I can still feel the badness inside you. Are you ready to help me?

“Yes, Father. I'll do anything you ask me to.” His deep, warm Irish whisper excites me and makes me realise I am still possessed by the horny spirit.

I push myself against his body, and am shocked and thrilled to feel a bulging erection, apparent even through his stiff black robe and my tight skirt. I can feel the demon acting inside me, making me wriggle against it. Father O’Neill closes his eyes and puts his hands on my bottom to steady himself. I move against his hands and the silky lining of the skirt teases my skin. I can feel his unsteady breath, hot against my ear as he spoke,

“Take this off… take it off. I must feel the evil in you. “

My hands move to the zip at the back of my skirt. This pushes my breasts up against his stiff robe, and the sensation makes me even wetter. I feel bold, and open some buttons at the front of his robe. His big chest, lightly covered with hair feels rough and warm against my palms. I unzip my skirt and he gently bites my bottom lip and slides it down over my hips.

“Yes…” he groans against my mouth as my tongue touches his. I move my hand down and touch his hard cock, which he thrusts against my hand. He grabs hold of my arms and pushes me to the floor. Thinking he is trying to prevent me from touching him I look up at him, ashamed and dirty,

“Father. I’m so sorry – I can’t help it.”

He doesn’t speak, he just pulls my skirt roughly down my legs and flings it to the other side of the room. He leans over me, his hard cock sticking out of his robe. He is breathing heavily, and rips my knickers right off me. I stare at him, frightened to move. He is dressed and I am lying naked on the floor exposed in front of him. I feel ashamed and dirty but the demon in me loves it.

“Be still. I must see”

As he speaks his hands move over my thighs, and he is praying in Latin again. My face is flushed with excitement and shame. He nudges my thigh with his leg and my legs are forced open slightly. He stares at me, and I moan, longing for him to touch me. Without thinking, I open my legs wider to show him how much I want him to fill me up.

“Show me what it makes you do”.

“Father?”

“When you are by yourself – tell me what the demon makes you think of? Make it show itself. Now. “

He wants me to masturbate in front of him. Part of me was sick with shame, but the bad part loves the wantonness of it, relishing the chance to make this priest fuck me. I lie back and move my hand slowly across my stomach.

“It makes me think about you Father. I imagine going to confession on a Saturday, and telling you about all the times I abuse myself. I put my big vibrator inside me Father while I am talking to you. I imagine you watching me do it, and then forcing me to take your cock in my mouth while I fuck myself with the vibrator. While I am telling you this in confession, you pull the curtain back. I am amazed to see you are masturbating and that your cock is so big and hard. It makes me wet to look at it. “

I slowly circle my hot clitoris with my finger as I spoke. I am teasing myself as much as him, and anticipate a strong, hot orgasm that will make me scream. Father O'Neill is praying, and as he kneels in front of me he puts his hand over his cock and starts to rub himself. It is so horny, I feel I could come just by masturbating in front of him while I tell him how I fantasise about him.

I start to slide my finger in and out of my wet hole, resting my hand over my pulsing clitoris, with just enough pressure so that when I move it sends shivers through me.

“You tell me to kiss your dick Father because I’m a dirty bitch and it’s all I’m good for. I do as I’m told, but I like it so much that I come on my vibrator while I suck on you. You tell me I am going to hell for being such a wicked harlot. You grab hold of my hair and wind it round your hand, and it hurts a bit. “

Father O’Neill tells me I am doing well, and that he can see how the beast has tortured me. His cock is only inches from my thigh, and I long for him to thrust it into me. We are both masturbating and watching each other masturbate as we do it, and he asks me if the demon is nearly ready. I tell him yes, it’s coming. I beg him to help me.

He grabs my arm and turns me so I am facing away from him, half leaning on the bed. His hands squeeze my tits and his hard cock brushes against my sensitised arse cheeks. I feel him move back slightly and close my eyes in anticipation of his first thrust inside me.

"Redemption is only given to those who really want goodness inside them. "

He is rubbing his fat, priest's cock against me, moaning and muttering something I can’t understand. I am so desperate to be fucked that I push myself back against him.

“You must beg me for it.

“ Oh Yes. Father O’Neill, please stick your dick in me, please. I will die if you don’t fuck me now. I’m begging you. Please!”

I am almost crying in desperation when I feel his cock thrust into me savagely from behind. It feels so wonderful, I nearly faint. He fucks me madly, his hands covering my bouncing tits. We are rutting like animals against the bed, and when I feel myself ready to climax, I beg him to fuck me deeper to drive the demon out. I can hear him, through our groans, telling me he has nearly fucked the evil bitch out of me. It is too much, and I have to bite the edge of the blanket on the bed to stop from screaming. My orgasm is shattering and I am still shaking as Father O’Neill shouts "Evil slut! I'm filling you now, God…I'm driving you out with my holy elixir." He is holding my hips as he comes inside me.

“That’s it,” he gasps.

He slowly withdraws, and kisses my shoulder as he helps me up to sit on the bed next to him.

"You are healed my child… if you ever feel the badness come back, you must tell me. Save your beautiful soul for God".

"Thank you Father", I cry. I look up and see Mr Carroll's curtains twitch. I close my eyes, and know that he has seen Father O'Neill and me.

I realise I will be forced to give him whatever he wants, or we will be ruined….

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