Mercy [Completed]

Chapter 4: You Will Pray

When Brooklyn arrived at church the next day, she found Father Mathias standing at the lectern. She slowly walked down the aisle. Her eyes darted from him, to his eyes, to anywhere but him. She stopped when she reached the end and waited with her hands clasped in front of her. He didn't say anything and just watched her. After yesterday, things felt different, almost as if a switch had been flipped. She wiped her sweaty palms down the front of her skirt, something she had put on in an attempt to make an effort with her appearance. For him.

"What is your greatest fear, child?" Father Mathias stood tall and looked down at her. His posture asserted his position above her, yet it didn't make her feel inferior as one would imagine it to.

Brooklyn peered up at him, stunned by the sound of his voice breaking the church's pious silence. "That I have no place in this world, Father," she answered quickly, speaking the first thing that came to mind.

He closed his eyes and took slow, deep breaths. When he opened them, she was faced with someone different, as if her admission had awakened a beast within. A beast with a little less tact, a little less self-control.

"You astound me, child. Your perfection touches me deeply. I do not want to just train you, but I want to own you so completely..." His fingers griped the wood of the lectern and he took another deep breath. His gaze burned her alive. It spoke volumes of sentiments, wants, and needs that she had yet to learn of and to understand.

"How am I perfect? I don't listen to you."

"You are untrained. And yes, you do not listen," he said with a chuckle. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "For example, you chose to disobey me and to not pray before leaving yesterday."

Brooklyn opened her mouth to say something but stopped. "I didn't. Father."

"Come with me." He led her upstairs to the balcony where the choir sang from, and bent her over the railing. "Look straight forward and do not look back."

"Yes, Father." She concentrated on the giant crucifix. From that vantage point, she could make out details she hadn't noticed before. Like how Jesus' eyes gazed straight forward and not upward like most do. It was as if he was looking directly at her.

She squirmed when she felt the priest lifting her skirt. He gathered the material neatly around her waist, but not once did his hand make contact with her skin.

"Do not, move."

She stood still but her panties were already getting wet just from the ideas of what was to come, racing through her mind. It mortified her and Brooklyn hid her reddening face between her forearms.

Father Mathias leaned over her and pressed his lips against her ear. "I can smell your arousal, child."

She gasped from the tantalizing feel of his warm breath against her ear.

"Do you pleasure yourself often?"

"Yes, Father," she answered quickly.

"When was the last time?"

"Last night." Her voice was small.

"From now on, you cannot engage in those types of activities without my permission. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father, but..."

"Quiet." He lightly placed his hand on her waist. "Do not be so self indulgent, child."

"Yes, Father."

"Do you want me to touch you?"

"Yes, please, Father." The words came out as moans. It was as if the little beast within her had been goaded and had come to life to play with his. Shame had been instantly shoved back to a far corner in the recesses of her mind.