Sins Of Her Venom
Chapter 24: Priest

Chapter 24: Priest

-Kathrine Andrews: (Church by Chase Atlantic)

Sunday mornings usually felt slow and uneventful, but today was different.

I woke up earlier than usual, full of energy, so I decided to take my motorcycle to the gas station for a wash.

I usually do it every two weeks, but on days like this, when I wasn’t feeling lazy, I’d make the trip weekly.

It was peaceful—no school, no expectations, just me and my bike.

Before leaving, I scribbled a quick note for my mom, letting her know where I’d gone.

The roads were quiet as I rode toward the gas station, the wind cool against my face.

But just as I was passing the church, I noticed Glyndon stepping out of her car.

She was wearing a modest dress, her hair pulled back neatly—looking every bit the good girl she pretended to be.

Of course, she was going to church. Her family was the conservative type, the kind that cared about appearances.

I was about to keep riding when an idea struck me—a delicious, wicked idea I couldn’t shake.

A smirk spread across my face as I slowed my bike and parked it out of sight, around the corner of the church.

The thrill of what I was about to do sent a rush of adrenaline through me.

I slipped inside the church as quietly as possible, careful not to draw any attention.

The air inside was cool and heavy with the scent of incense. The soft murmurs of prayers and footsteps echoed faintly.

Sticking to the shadows, I moved deeper into the church, watching Glyndon from a distance. She stood near the stairs, talking to a nun.

They exchanged a few words before the nun guided her toward the confessionals... I think.

My family and I didn’t go to church or follow any religion.

We believed in something bigger, a force maybe, but we didn’t pray or let it dictate our lives. We lived without rules holding us back.

As Glyndon disappeared into one of the booths and the priest stepped into the other, I crept closer, my heart pounding with excitement.

I ducked behind a nearby column, straining to hear her voice.

She started speaking, her tone low and shaky, words spilling out like she was carrying the weight of the world.

I moved even closer, careful not to make a sound.

I crouched behind the confession room, my back against the wall, just out of sight but close enough to catch fragments of her words.

"I... I let her touch me... Sexually." her voice wavered, each word laced with shame.

"Kathrine. She cornered me in the showers. I stayed late after my boyfriend was done showering, thinking I was alone there, but she..."

Glyndon’s voice cracked.

Her words sent a thrill down my spine. I bit back a grin, keeping myself quiet as I leaned in further.

She was confessing to what happened in the showers. What I did to her.

"She didn’t force me, well kind of did, but I could have pushed her away or ask her stop, she would’ve stopped if I asked... But I didn’t..." She said quickly, that made me smirk in satisfaction.

That sounded amazing, I love how I’m consuming her.

"That’s what makes it worse. She made me feel pleasure that I have never felt with someone else. She touched me. And I didn’t stop her."

Her voice cracked, I could almost hear tears threatening to spill from her pretty eyes.

Hearing her say it out loud was intoxicating. The guilt in her voice, the way she stumbled over her words—it was delicious.

I could picture her face, flushed and trembling as she spoke, the vision sent a rush of lust to my clit.

"What did you feel in that moment, my child?" the priest asked gently.

"I... I felt wanted, I felt satisfied, addicted, obsessed, all I wanted was to do it all over again and never stop," She admitted, my eyes widened, and the smirk on my mouth vanished for a second before widening again.

This is way more fun than I thought.

"I’m cruel to her, always mocking her with my boyfriend for being gay and poor, but then... everything changed after that day. Tables turned."

The confessional grew heavier, my satisfaction sent giddy feelings to my chest and stomach.

"Sin is not only in action but in intention," he said softly. "Do you feel trapped by her or by your feelings?"

I was excited to hear her answer. "Both. She’s everywhere, Father. In my head, haunting me. She could ruin me if she wanted to. But I can’t stop thinking about her at night, at school, and I hate that."

Oh My God.

The priest’s voice was soft but firm, his words too quiet for me to make out clearly, but probably some bulllshit about how she should forgive herself and she is just human or whatever I don’t care.

Glyndon responded, her voice breaking, and the raw emotion in it sent a twisted kind of satisfaction through me.

I leaned my head back against the wall, a smug grin playing on my lips.

Poor little Glyndon, confessing her sins, trying to wash away the memory of me.

But she wouldn’t.

No amount of prayer would erase what I did to her.

The priest left the confession room.

I couldn’t stop myself. The temptation was too strong, the thrill too intoxicating.

I stepped out from behind the confessional, my boots barely making a sound on the cold, tiled floor.

The air was heavy, charged with an almost forbidden tension as I approached the curtain hiding Glyndon.

With a deliberate flick of my wrist, I grabbed it and slid it aside, revealing her.

There she was—kneeling, vulnerable, utterly wrecked.

Her tear-streaked face snapped up to meet mine, her eyes widening in sheer disbelief.

The blush on her cheeks deepened, and her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

The sight of her like this—broken, trembling—sent a wicked thrill through me.

I leaned casually against the wooden frame, letting a slow smirk curl my lips.

My voice dropped, smooth and teasing as I said, "I didn’t know you liked it that much, little devil."

Her reaction was immediate. Her body froze, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.

Her hands twitched, gripping the hem of her skirt tightly as if it could somehow shield her from me.

A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, and her gaze darted around the room, looking for an escape she knew didn’t exist.

I didn’t give her a chance to recover. Stepping forward, I bent down until our faces were just inches apart and she was on her knees, the tension thick between us.

My hand moved, deliberately slow, and I wrapped my fingers lightly around her throat, feeling the rapid pulse beneath her skin.

Her breath hitched audibly, her body trembling under my touch.

"A collar would look so good around this pretty throat of yours," I murmured, my voice a husky whisper, letting the words linger in the charged silence.

Her reaction was delicious. Her eyes squeezed shut as though she could block me out, but her body betrayed her.

The tremor in her legs, the sharp intake of breath, the faint shiver that coursed through her—it was all too telling.

She was trying so hard to appear strong, but panic and vulnerability were written all over her.

"W-what are doing here?" she finally stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, cracking under the weight of her fear and shock.

I tilted my head, brushing a thumb lightly against the column of her throat, savoring the way her breath hitched again, and how she gulped.

"Oh, Glyndon," I murmured, my smirk deepening, " I think you already know."

The moment the words left my mouth, Glyndon panicked.

She scrambled to her feet, her wide eyes darting around the church as though she was afraid someone might have seen me there.

Her fear was palpable, far more powerful than any flicker of anger she might have felt.

When her gaze snapped back to me, her voice came out trembling.

"Please, get out. Leave. Why are you even here?"

Her hands pressed against my abdomen, trying to push me away, but her efforts were weak and hesitant.

If she wanted to, I knew she could shove me back—she was stronger than this. But she wasn’t trying hard enough.

Her palms rested on my stomach, her fingers trembling as she tried to create distance, yet at the same time, she was pulling me closer.

It was a contradiction I could feel in every hesitant touch.

I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t resist the temptation.

The fear in her eyes, the way her body was betraying her—it was intoxicating.

My smirk deepened as I stepped fully into the confessional, letting the curtain fall closed behind me.

That small movement was enough to make her panic spike. "No, no, no," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper as her body pressed back against the wall.

Her hands stayed on me, but now she was shaking, trembling under the weight of her fear.

I leaned in, cornering her completely. The small, intimate space of the confessional felt stifling, the air heavy with unspoken tension.

Glyndon’s neck arched instinctively, her wide eyes meeting mine as she tried to look up at me.

"Please," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Please, please... just leave."Her tiny body felt so good pressed against mine.

Her shaking head, the tremor in her voice, the way she clung to me as much as she tried to push me away—it was maddening. " This is wrong. So wrong."

She was a tangled mess of panic and something deeper, something raw and primal she refused to acknowledge.

I smirked, watching how fucked up she looked and sounded as I leaned closer to her ear whispering " How about we play Priest?"

I hummed and looked at her shocked face as I continued " I will make you orgasm and you confess to me how good I’m making you feel."

I didn’t give her much time to talk, I pushed my hands under her long modest skirt.