After Father Mathias' admission of love, Brooklyn couldn't justify seeing Stephen and hated how much she disliked the idea of cutting him off. They had texted over the past week, but he hadn't pushed to see her and she knew it was because one more date could lead to something she wanted and didn't want to happen. His thoughtfulness made her like him that much more.
Nothing to could stop her from seeing him at work. The polite texts she could handle, but seeing him, was a whole other story. And they exchanged longing looks whenever he went in. Of course Gregory noticed and he shook his head every time.
Stephen: Let's do something tonight.
He texted shortly after a coffee break.
Brooklyn: I can't.
Stephen: Why not?
Brooklyn: Things got more complicated between me and him.
Stephen: I see...
Brooklyn: I need space.
And time.
Biting her lip, she waited for his reply.
I'm sorry.
Stephen: Sounds like you've made a choice.
Brooklyn: I haven't. I just don't feel good about the back and forth.
Stephen: I respect that. Well, good luck.
I guess.
Brooklyn felt terrible when Stephen didn't go to the cafe the next day. Or the following day. She darkly mused that that was probably why most companies frowned upon employees dating customers.
Monday finally came and she went to her Priest, floating. She waited for him, naked and praying, all of her doubts gone. At least for the moment.
"I have a gift for you. Stand up and turn," he said when he came in.
Brooklyn got up and her eyes were drawn to the little box wrapped in shiny, silver gift paper. He handed it to her.
"You may open it," he said, clearly pleased that she had waited for his permission.
Brooklyn carefully unwrapped the box and opened it. "Rosary beads?"
"Not just any. These were custom made. Look at the bead above the cross."
The bead he was referring to was one of two larger ones. She looked at it closely and noticed something engraved in the middle of it.
"It's the triskelion, the symbol for BDSM. This rosary is also reinforced so that I can do something like... this..." He took the beads out of the box and quickly wrapped them around her neck and squeezed.
Brooklyn gasped for air and he loosened his grip.
"Or this..." He turned her around and hit her backside once, earning himself a sweet yelp from Brooklyn. "Stings, doesn't it?" he said, rubbing the spot he had hit.
He handed the rosary beads back to her and she took them with renewed interest. "Thank you, Father."
"I suspect you're skin will grow to love them very much," he said with subtle promise.
Brooklyn smiled and looked down shyly.
Father Mathias chuckled. "You've come all this way and you're still blushing." He took the beads back and hung them around her neck. "I want you to always wear them."
"I will, Father."
***
With Stephen mostly out of the picture, Brooklyn feared this would be her life now; where she existed only in the instances she was with Father Mathias. When she wasn't with him, she drifted. Her days would be productive by something short of a miracle. When she was with him, she was alive. Every nerve ending that had gone dormant in his absence came back to life in his presence with the full intention of making up for lost time.
Week after week they saw each other and the more time that passed, the harder it was for her to ask him the ultimate question: Where did she stand in his life? And it was one she needed to ask before she could make any decision about leaving or staying. Not even during her confessions, that she began doing every Sunday after mass, was she able to bring up the topic.
Then, she finally decided that she would. Mass ended and she left with everyone, only to return to the confessional shortly after. Brooklyn sat and waited, anxious to get it over with. As she waited, she quickly started to lose her nerve. Father Mathias was always on time. She peeked out into the nave and found it empty. A few more minutes passed and Brooklyn went to look for him in his office.
"I don't understand where anyone got these ideas from," she heard her Priest say through his office door.
"There is no proof, Father Mathias, but there has been a lot of concern about your conduct with one of the parishioners."
"This is absurd!"
"Father, you have an upstanding reputation and have bettered many churches during your service. We'd hate for that to be tarnished by rumors and believe maybe it's best to relocate."
Brooklyn covered her mouth to hide her gasp.
"But I have just settled in here."
"I know this is unfavorable, but it is for your own good."
"I will think about it."
The man cleared his throat. "Father Mathias, if I may, many of us have made mistakes. We may be men of the cloth, but we are not impervious to the lure of a beautiful woman. I recommend you end your affair before proof of it arises, or leave. But I strongly suggest you leave if there is love involved." The man lowered his voice. "Between you and me, I have fallen victim to the devil's temptations myself. But God forgives. Still, before you can receive his forgiveness, you must correct your failure."
Brooklyn sagged against the wall next to the door. If there's love? She almost wished she hadn't implored Father Mathias to admit his feelings and was afraid that he'd take this man's advice.
"Is that all?" said Father Mathias.
"Yes. I'll wait for your answer."
Brooklyn stepped back from the door when it opened. The man that had spoken to Father Mathias saw her and seemed to know exactly who she was, because he shook his head before passing her.
He stopped. "Young lady?"
"Yes?" she said meekly.
"If you love him, you will let him be. He has a bright future ahead of him. Do not ruin him any further with your advances." He continued on, not giving her a chance to lie, and she was grateful for it.
"Father?" Brooklyn knocked on the door that had been left ajar and stepped inside the office. She found her Priest with his face buried in his hands.
"Good afternoon, my child," he said without looking up.
"What are you going to do?" she asked, not hiding the fact she had listened in on his conversation.
He shook his head. "I do not know."
This was her chance to find out how important she was to him. Instead, Brooklyn's face grew hot with fear and the room felt like it was ready to close in on her. "Please don't leave me." She wanted to kick herself for her weakness.
He looked up at her then and looked at her as if it was the first time seeing her. His eyes were red. "I love you." He choked over the words.
He loved her. He had said it for the first time without any prompt. He loves me! Brooklyn said to herself before shaking her head. No. No, weakness. "And what does that mean with all of this?" she gestured towards the walls.
He took a deep breath. "We must be more careful. We can't change much because that would confirm their suspicions. You will continue to come to Sunday mass and confess afterwards. But when you come to me at night, we must find a way to make sure no one sees. That's the only time I could imagine someone would have seen anything suspicious," he spoke more to himself than to her.
"That doesn't answer my question."
"Come to me." He held out his hand.
"No. Not until you answer my question. What does loving me mean?"
He pleaded with his eyes. "It means I will do everything I can to make this work."
"But you won't put me first. I'll always be second to the church. Right?"
"Child, please. Now is not the time to discuss this. Have faith." His voice faltered on the last word.
"How can I? When clearly, you're losing yours, Father."
Her words struck a cord and for the first time, she saw Father Mathias' resolve crack and she knew it was no ordinary crack. It was one in a dam with unbelievable amounts of pressure behind it. What would spill out when the damn gave way, was the question. Would it be his faith in the church? Or his faith in his call to dominate a divine creature such as herself?
"I'll see you tomorrow night," he eventually said, ignoring her comment.
Brooklyn bit her tongue. "Yes, Father."
Even with the new speculations, Father Mathias expected her to still show for their weekly Monday visit, and instructed her to go through the back service door. Maybe it was her mild dramatic air, but Brooklyn thought it would be best to dress in black too. It took her a bit to find her way going in through the back, but she ended up in the right hallways and waited for him in his room, naked and praying.
"I am a fool," he murmured when he came in.
Brooklyn didn't reply.
"I sit here and think I could go on like this but..."
"Father I think it's better if we stop this." Brooklyn spoke, keeping her head down.
Father Mathias was silent.
"I..." she started.
"No. Stand up."
Brooklyn ground her teeth and obeyed.
"No," he said again.
One more time. She would enjoy one more night with him and then end things. He led her to the middle of the room and made her stand under a beam. She looked up and saw silver loops. When she looked back at him she found him with cuffs in his hand and instinctively held out her hands. He secured them onto her wrists then attached them to the clips above her and stepped back. He groaned when he saw her like that, in all her naked glory. Brooklyn pressed her thighs together, aroused by his open appraisal.
He left and returned with various implements and laid them out on the sofa next to her. He picked up a leather strap first and ran it across her breasts. She shivered from the cold leather against her nipples. He circled around her like a predator stalking its prey; his hunger for her flesh evident in his blue eyes.
"You have experienced much pain at my hand, child. Tonight, I crave for much more. Are you prepared?"
"Yes, Father," whispered Brooklyn. She was already wet with anticipation.
The priest could smell her arousal and he groaned with approval. "With all that has gone on, I had forgotten what a beautiful masochist you've become," he said.
Brooklyn whimpered when she saw his hunger grow. They fed into each other so well. Her willingness and his appetite a never ending vortex of pain and pleasure. He stood behind her and tapped the strap lightly on her bottom, gradually increasing the strength to where he would illicit a soft whimper. Brooklyn knew this was her warm up and she looked forward to the blinding pain that was to come. But he continued on with the gentle hits and that's when she realized, the long warm-up promised for much greater pain.
On and on he went until finally, he hit her with incredible force and her knees buckled. She cried out but the cry was quickly followed by a moan. He hit her again, stopping only to push back the hair from his eye before landing another strike. He was quick when he changed out the implement, the new one hurting more than the last. He worked his way up to his prized toy, Rapture. But he stopped, picking up a flogger instead. He moved to stand in front of her and looked at her breasts, deep in thought.
He traced their curve with his finger. "I've yet to leave marks on these."
Brooklyn looked at him with fear. She couldn't imagine her breasts receiving punishment. They seemed so fragile and sensitive.
He hit her left breast with the flogger. It felt nice. Not painful at all. Then he hit the right one. And like he did with her bottom, he gradually increased the intensity, revelling in her facial expressions. He put down the flogger and slapped her chest, and it hurt much more.
Brooklyn shook her head, wanting to ask him to stop but wanting it to continue at the same time. She pressed her lips tightly together to keep them from betraying her.
"Mmm, yes, they are beautiful like this," said the priest.
Brooklyn looked down and her breasts were a beautiful shade of magenta. She could already picture the purple that would bloom by tomorrow.
Father Mathias picked up the Rapture and returned to her bottom. The first hit made her scream like she had never screamed before with him.
"Yes, my child," he growled. "Show me how you suffer at my will." He hit her again. She was crying now, but she didn't flinch or move away, waiting for the next hit. She heard another groan of approval from the priest. "Tell me what you want."
"I want you to hurt me, Father...please."
"More than I have now."
"As much as you want?"
She was dizzy with the onslaught of impacts he rained down on her. What made this more painful than any of the other times, was the pace. He gave her no time to recover. It was one hit after the other for what seemed like for ever. Nothing else existed outside of him, her, and pain. Brooklyn saw flashes of white and wished she had been bent over because she couldn't come from the pain while standing. Her legs trembled violently and they gave out. It was then that Father Mathias stopped and took her down from her restraints. She collapsed in his arms and they fell to the floor together.
He brushed her hair away from her eyes. "I will always crave for this sight, your face stained with tears, your lips swollen from crying. You are divine."
"Thank you, Father."
He stood up and pulled her with him to carry her to his bed. Laying her down, he motioned for her to roll onto her stomach and groaned when her saw her backside and ran his fingers across her welts.
"I will tend to your bruises."
"No thank you, Father. If it's okay, I'd rather not do anything that would speed up the healing." She look over her shoulder and up at him through her lashes.
He nodded and laid next to her instead, pulling her into his arms. He held her close, playing with her hair while whispering sweet nothings into her ear. "I should get you something to eat."
Brooklyn wanted to protest but as if in its own protest, her body began to tremble and she felt tired and cold. The priest covered her with a blanket and left, returning with some cut up fruit.
"Eat," he commanded.
And she did.