Lead Us Not Into Temptation [kckolbe and Madam Mim]

Bernard sighed sadly as Moira failed to delight in the news. He thought maybe she wasn't understanding the sign, or maybe her faith had simply been damaged more by Satan's minion than he had realized. Perhaps as the scars heal more she will understand.

"Yes, my child, we will fight as best we can." Deflated by her lack of excitement, but determined to see it through, he began with the large furrows on her ass. Last time he'd applied a crucifix to the wound, something he intended to do today as well, but having seen how well the anointing oil had worked on the wounds to her inner thighs, he made sure to apply it there as well, rubbing it in with his whole hand to save time.

He'd begun treating her inner thighs, which once again brought her sex more to line of sight and her allure more to the forefront of his mind. His thoughts were taking a darker, more wicked turn as she asked about her own wickedness. "No, my child. Mrs. Canton has spoken very well of you, and I believe in your goodwill. You feel wicked because Satan wishes to corrupt you, to twist the pure until it is no longer so. The closer you return to the safety of God's embrace, the less you will be plagued by such thoughts." And the less Satan's influence on you will affect me. He did not blame the girl for the corruption her body radiated, as that was Satan's doing, but he knew her body was affecting him in ways he hadn't felt.

His fingers slid deftly up and down her thighs, his pinkies nearly touching her exposed sex with every pass. "Yes...you would benefit from confession. Please forgive me for not suggesting sooner." He crawled on the bed next to her, a cloth in his hand dampened by holy water, and applied it between her shoulder blades. "I feel the crucifix was not applied long enough last time. Perhaps we can do the confession as it is applied today? Speaking of which, did you wish to stand on something as last time or had you considered something else?"

It was a comfort that Bernard--Father Bernard--didn't think her a wicked girl. When he told her that she would be plagued less by evil thoughts the more she returned to God Moira nodded and bit her lip when it quivered. Though she tried not to cry a tear still slid down her cheek and she sniffled.

"The demon told me things," she admitted. "It told me that it entered me because I'm a wicked girl...that I'm a wanton slut who deserved nothing more than a life on my knees, suck--" She blushed furiously and bit off the rest of her sentence. She had been ashamed of the aching in her loins when the demon had described to her how she ought to whore herself, to suck a stranger's cock and thank him for it when he spilled his seed across her breasts, how she ought to ride a man until she came screaming because that was the kind of wicked slut she was.

Instead she changed the subject and asked whether she could make her confession to him, then asked whether she had any ideas for her own treatment. "Well, I thought you might be able to sit on the bed, as it's more comfortable," she suggested slowly. "But the way we...well the way we embraced yesterday, I thought it was...efficient." She looked away from him, nearly purple with embarrassment. Once she had her blushing under control she sat up and pulled her bloomers on while she waited for Father Bernard to get comfortable.

Moira thought perhaps it would be less awkward if she looked him in the eyes and crossed herself as she moved to straddle him. It only made things worse. While biting her lip she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around the priest's middle and leaned her chin on his shoulder as she had the day before, giving him access to her back. Her breath was warm across his ear and neck as she murmured.

"Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It has been eight days since my last confession."

Bernard nodded in calm, kind understanding when Moira began telling him the demon's words. He had been prepared to hear vague accusations of wickedness. Humans were, after all, all possessed of original sin. Compared to God, all were wicked. Then she kept talking. A wanton slut. He did not have a prepared response for that. His mind flipped back and forth between attempting to formulate a response and imagining her as a wanton slut.

Fortunately for his awkwardness, and unfortunately for his curiosity, she changed the subject. "Yes," he agreed quickly, largely wanting to seem and/or feel professional again. "You..um, did seem to squirm last time, so it would be best were you held closely. And the bed does seem more comfortable, which is appreciated." He watched as she began pulling up her bloomers, catching himself before asking her not to. He'd wanted her to straddle him as she was, though naturally he'd not wished to admit that. Instead, he'd moved to the edge of the bed nearest her, as close as he could get to the briefly half-naked young girl.

He returned her gaze, looking over her body as she crossed herself. He instinctively ran his hand to her hip, guiding her onto his lap. Once she was settled, he dipped his hand into the anointing oil before realizing he had already done that. Clearing his throat, he justified "just making sure the bloomers didn't absorb it all. Please, my child, let me hear your confession."

He slid his oiled fingers beneath her bloomers, lightly massaging the oil into the cheeks of her butt.

Moira shivered at the chill touch of the oil on her skin, massaged in by the priest's warm, gentle hands. She shifted and felt that same bulge as before press insistently against her, although now it pressed against her tender twat just where the demon had showed her was most pleasurable. Another shiver, this time of sinful pleasure, ran through her as she moved over it, rolling her hips in small, subtle motions over Bernard's lap. Her aunt had with much embarrassment explained to her where babies come from after she'd reached a certain age, and the demon had whispered in her ear about the pleasures of the flesh that a man and a woman would experience together in the dark, so she had some vague notion of what exactly that bulge was...but couldn't imagine how it had come to be precisely that way. In either case, the thrill that ran through her body when she grinded against it was too pleasurable not to try again. She had, after all, never known the touch of another beyond the demon, and this was different. He was different.

"The demon was the serpent," she insisted when Bernard asked to hear her confession, still whispering into his ear with her breath warm on his skin. "I have tasted of the fruit of the tree of good and evil; it told me about the ways of men and women and it planted a seed of lust in my heart. I have lusted after men, Father Bernard...after a man in particular." She breathed in sharply when her hips rolled forward again, massaging her clit against his erection. "He's a good man, and I wouldn't for all the world want to lead him away from the path of the righteous and into sin. But I dream of him..." Her fists clenched, gathering bunches of his cassock in her hands as she continued to grind against him while he gripped and massaged her ass. Her lips brushed against his throat as she laid her head on his shoulder and whispered her sins into his ear. God but she was wet! It ached to want him this badly.

"I dream of him making love to me, and in my waking hours I imagine how he might claim my body. I imagine his breath on my skin, his lips on my breasts, his fingers tangled in my hair." She bit her lip, climbing to that delicious peak and only vaguely trying to be subtle about her grinding. "In recent weeks I've found nothing but lust in the Song of Solomon and I read it, imagining it as a love letter from my beloved shepherd. Father Bernard--" Moira paused and bit her lip, clenching her hands harder around the fabric to keep quiet as a small orgasm rippled through her. It wasn't what she craved, but it was enough to keep her contented for now. "Father Bernard I am a wicked slut, for the Gospel says that to have these thoughts are as sinful as to commit the deed itself. And this man...he's so much older, and untouchable by all laws of morality and society, but sometimes my lust consumes me. I sin against him and against God for it, and for the jealousy which engulfs my heart in its wicked flame when I see him speaking with another woman, one prettier or closer to his age than myself. And in this I also suffer from the sin of vanity, sometimes thinking myself beautiful enough to turn his eye or above God's law to turn his heart." Moira slid her hips back to press her ass into his hands as they gripped her.

"I'm so wracked with sin, Bern--Father Bernard. The demon has left so much more than these physical scars, but scars upon my soul. What am I to do?" She felt like crying again, but found comfort in Bernard's warm, strong yet gentle embrace. All he wanted was the best for her, healing for her body and her soul, and yet she couldn't bring herself to purge the lust from her heart.

Bernard could feel the movement of the young girl's center against his bulge, but considered that little more than the result of his hands moving her small body. He felt her shiver, which he interpreted as fear. "There is no need to be afraid, Moira." He started to say more but his breath caught with a roll of her hips, and instead his eyes briefly closed as he felt her against his sensitive shaft. Despite being a virgin, he had dabbled a bit in sins of the flesh before taking the cloth, and Moira's wasn't the first flesh he'd felt where a dress should have covered, though the last had been over a decade and a half ago.

When she began her confession, he nodded as solemnly as he could with his hands down the back of her bloomers. He listened, attempting to organize a response in his mind, his first impulse what could be a jealous impulse to ask about the man she'd lusted after, until the feel of her sex against his shaft pushed thoughts of...anything from his mind. His hands stopped rubbing in oil and simply clenched her ass as he experienced the sensation.

He despised the youthful, married man he envisioned, the one for whom Moira felt such lust for. He shook his head ashamed of such jealous thoughts, and realized that his hands had never resumed their task. He felt moisture on his hip, something that had happened before thinking of her. Having been asked what she should do, he sheepishly returned to rubbing in the oil. "You mustn't speak of yourself so. The demon...serpent, if you prefer, has succeeded in confusing your emotions. You seek love and comfort...I can tell in how you embrace. But you've been whispered to and convinced to believe that it is sin of the flesh you desire. Only once you accept God's love and give yourself to Him purely, seeking only His light and mercy, then you shall feel his peace within you."

Sighing sadly, he withdrew his hands from beneath her bloomers. "It is time for the crucifix. I urge you to try to avoid your lustful thoughts. Focus on closeness and love, hold on tightly, opening yourself up to the Holy Spirit just as you did with your confession." He clutched the crucifix in his hand, the other pulling back on her bloomers, awaiting her confirmation before beginning.

"But I do seek His love, Father!" Moira pulled back to look at him, bright blue eyes meeting his earnestly. Without his hands on her she had slackened her grip on his cassock, and now moved her hands to cup the back of his neck and head. His hair was surprisingly soft... "What can I do when I've sought God's love and all that's returned to me is more sin?"

Bernard's answer was to instruct her to focus on love and avoid lustful thoughts while he applied the crucifix. Her lip trembled as she nodded, consenting to what she knew had to be done. Her hair fell around her face, past her shoulders, and the window behind her framed her head with a halo of light as, when he pressed the crucifix to her skin, Moira cried out and arched her back, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back as though in ecstasy.

In truth she wasn't sure how she felt about it. Just as it had on her back, the cross stung horribly and hurt...but horny as she was the pain felt strangely satisfying. She rolled her hips forward again and pressed her nubile young body to the priest's while she laced her fingers behind his neck and held onto him. Unable to keep her body so rigid for very long, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his.

"I give myself to Him," she panted, not breaking eye contact with Bernard. "I open myself to Him and I beg him to enter me that I may be free of sin. I love Him, Bernard, and beg Him with all of my being to come inside me, and to cleanse me of this demon's influence. I don't want to walk in this world of darkness anymore, not without Him in me, guiding me from the evil that has defiled me." Her hands moved into his hair and gently gripped it at his scalp as she rolled her hips again, learning to enjoy the cleansing pain. "I need Him with me, inside me, protecting me." Yes, she could definitely find perverse pleasure in this pain, and much to her frustration found herself wondering whether Bernard would do it to her again. Hoping he would, really.

When he finally removed the cross from her ass she took a deep breath, forehead still pressed against his, lips almost brushing his. "Didn't you say you would look at that burn today, too?" Moira asked softly, once again needy yet unsatisfied.

Bernard smiled sadly as she professed her search of God's light. He knew she believed it, but her earlier confession showed that her thoughts were occupied with thoughts of some other man. He explained it as well as he could, but some plans worked better on paper than in reality, and controlling the thoughts of a teenage girl, and one corrupted by a demon on top of that, was no easy task.

He clutched her close as she cried out, momentarily not thinking of how good she felt against his bulge. "Try not to think of the pain, my child. Think of the warmth, the love you seek. You need this, do not fear it." A soft "yes" escaped his lips as he felt her body roll into his.

He locked eyes with her, his gaze weak. He had prepared some words to say for this part of the treatment, but they were gone, lost as he looked in her eyes and felt her body against his, feeling his own body moving against hers. His free hand slid up from her back to grip at her scalp as well. There was no prayer from him, no stoic stillness, no quiet dignity. He was caught in lust, his body and eyes betraying that, in that moment, he cared nothing for her eternal soul.

It was with a sudden, sharp breath that he stopped, scooting himself back as well he could given the situation. His eyes closed forcefully and his hand slid down from her hair, and finally his other hand from within her bloomers. At her question, he only slightly nodded, too ashamed to look at her. "Yes," he said at last, as though regretfully.

He felt her weight shift away from him and he slid back on the bed, laying back on the bed on not caring how it looked. He needed a minute to gather himself. He didn't want to treat the burn on her thigh. He didn't want to touch her again. He had been weak, and he couldn't believe she could tolerate more of him. He brought his hands up to his face, rubbing his eyes.

"Yes," he said again, this time attempting to sound more under control. "How would you prefer to do this?"

He wanted her. Moira herself didn't consciously register it, but some evil beast which was coiled around her heart purred its wicked glee at the lust in Bernard's eyes. The girl only knew that it felt good to have the stinging pain against her flesh while he gripped her hair, pulling it slightly. She was disappointed when he finally let go and pulled away. With a frown she moved off of his lap and sat next to him on the bed.

"I don't know," she admitted, sitting on her feet. "I suppose for propriety's sake I had better stay dressed, but..." She stuck out her left leg and pulled up the leg of her bloomers. A long, brownish-red scar half an inch wide and ending in a point ran from her knee along the front of her thigh before curving inward to the inside of her thigh, where it disappeared beneath the bloomers. "It's gotten a little longer," she admitted, pulling the white cloth down again. It appeared wet near her crotch. "Maybe if I sat with my back against your chest you could put your hand..." Moira looked away and blushed fetchingly. "It...it would preserve my modesty, after all."

After a few moments she was able to look at him again. She put her hands on her knees and leaned forward, unaware that she had pressed her breasts together enticingly. "Did I do something wrong, Bernard?" she asked innocently.

With a sigh of resignation to both the circumstances and his need to look, Bernard gave in and removed his hands from his face, watching as she pulled up the leg of the bloomers. The feeling of anticipation surprised him. After all, earlier today he'd seen her without them, revealing far more than her legs. Though, revealing as that view had been, it had been from behind. She generally kept her front covered. The sight of the scar, which seemed to extend much further than yesterday, jolted him out of his inner musings on expectations. "It has gotten worse," he agreed, the admission deflating his spirit somewhat more.

He noted the dampness near her center, and once more his eyes closed in a prolongued flinch as he considered her proposal. What she had suggested would allow him to treat her without seeing that area of her body, but not seeing her meant having to operate by touch and likely making many mistakes. She may not have been aware of it yet, but it seemed that her confession had elicited a response from her body. At some point, his hand would feel that moisture, and she would feel it. Would she allow him to continue? He feared not.

When she leaned forward, he could see the faint scars on her breasts. He convinced himself that was why his gaze lingered. "No, you've done nothing wrong. I am simply worried that it might not be the most effective method. There would inevitably be...mistakes. Perhaps..." he began, then caught himself. Had he really been about to suggest that he leave this to her? "Forgive me, Moira." He cleared his throat. "I was thinking that perhaps if we draped the sheet over you as well, that would further preserve your modesty." He situated himself on the bed as though preparing for her to settle atop him.

Moira watched the priest on her bed, eyes scanning him from top to bottom then back again. She lingered on his erection, more for curiosity than for anything else, or so she told herself. The memory of it throbbing beneath her caused a thrill of lust to flash through her loins, up into her stomach, and though she immediately felt guilty for it she also liked the way it made her feel. Bernard seemed to be doing the same thing; he hadn't corrected her and insisted she call him Father, after all. But surely a man of the cloth would be less vulnerable to temptation and sin than a naive girl.

"Of course, you're right," Moira agreed when he finally spoke. "A sheet would be the best guard against such mistakes." What other mistakes could there be, after all?

She climbed into his lap again, sitting this time with her back against his chest, and pulled the sheet over her lap. Moira slowly spread her legs, unsure of how far she ought to and so waiting until he said stop or until she couldn't spread them any farther, whichever came first. She rested her head on his shoulder as she slowly slid her hands under the sheet, untying her bloomers to pull them open to allow Bernard easier access. She couldn't help herself: one finger slid across her clit as she withdrew her hands from the fabric. Touching herself while sitting on his lap felt...well obviously it was wrong, but she had never had a more exotic experience in her young life.

"Will it hurt?" she asked quietly, turning her face to murmur in Bernard's ear. Her lips just barely brushed the skin of his neck and her breath curled warmly around his ear as she waited, legs spread, knees apart, for him to begin the healing.

Mistakes were still very much on Bernard's mind, despite Moira's cheerful optimism that the sheet would seemingly render them impossible. Should he risk deflating what little spirit she had for continuing by apprising her of the possibility of mistakes? "I simply thought the sheet would leave you less exposed to both gaze and the cool air. Little enough of this process lends itself to comfort, but particularly after the ordeal of the crucifix, some small kindness would be welcome."

He sat still, some labored breathing aside, as she lowered herself onto him. He felt his bulge nestle between her cheeks, even through his robes and her bloomers. With the jar in his left hand, he slid both hands underneath the sheet, resting his left wrist on her thigh as she spread her legs. Then he paused for a quick, silent prayer of restraint, unaware of the fact that she was touching herself.

"No, it won't hurt." It wasn't often he'd had the opportunity to give her good news. "The salve should feel cool against your skin." He dipped a finger into the jar and carefully lifted up the waistline of her bloomers, sliding his hand along the top of the fabric to avoid unnecessary contact. He placed his hand down at last on her lower thigh, carefully running a finger along her burn but making a concerted effort to keep his hand well away from her more intimate area.

Moira breathed in sharply at the cool salve on her skin. It burned a little, but only where the burn had scarred her milky thigh. She supposed that was the evil in her recoiling from the glory of God. She chewed the inside of her lip gently and leaned more heavily against the priest. The scar was slightly raised, leaving a contrast to her unmarred skin, and as Bernard slid his hand further up her thigh he would find that the burn ran nearly to her virgin sex. Moira clenched the sheet in her hands as his finger slid farther up.

"I want to thank you, Father," she said quietly, "for being so devoted to your lost sheep. I try...so hard. But sometimes it feels like the demon is still sitting on my shoulder, whispering to me. I fear it is my own sinfulness, that it ruined me and turned a part of my soul black. It gives me joy to know that you don't think I'm beyond salvation."

Bernard kept his hand far down her thigh, massaging the salve into that part of the burn and keeping his hand well away from her sex. His left hand held up the waistline of her bloomers so he could easily bring more of the salve beneath the cloth.

"You have no need to thank me, Moira. Your trials have been great already, and the treatment, I fear, has been more trying than, perhaps, the possession was. The pain of the crucifix, the forced immodesty...Satan has forced you to give much of yourself, and yet you have shown me nothing but kindness. Do not fault yourself so. All can be tempted if they are not careful, and you have simply been weakened. I almost worry more about pushing you too hard, and pushing you away from salvation."

Moira shook her head as the priest massaged her thigh. "You can't push too hard, Father," she assured him, clenching the sheets in her fists. "I crave the light of salvation; there's nothing that can pull me away from it."

Something deep inside her knew that with each tender touch she was, in fact, being pushed farther and farther from salvation. It knew that Bernard's touch was not an innocent one, and that her hot, wet need wasn't simply an accident of biology. It knew that if she propositioned him right here, right now, the odds were 50/50 that he'd take her and they would somehow justify themselves of the sanctity of the act. That was a deep, hidden part which curled around her soul and squeezed, slowly suffocating the light. To her conscious mind Moira was entirely earnest, seeking out the glory of God with every inch Bernard's hand massaged.

He pulled his hand away for more of the salve as she reassured him. "Truly?" Some of the treatment requires rather...abnormal closeness and access. Isn't that uncomfortable to you? Don't you dread these ordeals?" He moved his hand back to her thigh, moving slightly closer to her center as he continued applying the salve.

"You can speak freely, Moira. I remember how you flinched in the sacristy, how you covered yourself with your hand."

"Father, you've said yourself that I've been right to cast aside society's ideals of modesty for the sake of seeking God," Moira said as Bernard's hands slid back under the cloth. She spread her legs wider to give him better access, and now her inner thighs rested on the outsides of his, her knees on the outside of his legs pressing against his own as her feet slid down and hooked around is calves to keep her thighs spread wide. "I covered myself for modesty's sake. I don't dread these ordeals, but I look forward to them."

Moira's palms lay flat on the bed to steady herself, but with her legs spread so wide she found the need to grip Bernard's hips to keep herself from wobbling or falling out of his lap. She adjusted herself, moving her rear against the bulge which pressed insistently on her. A thrill of lust shivered through her and she bit her lip, leaning against his chest.

"Truly I desire this," she promised. "I crave the light of God more than I fear censure for immodesty. It was the demon who forced me to be so, but I take comfort in your every touch which brings me closer to God, back into his flock." Her thighs quivered as his hands moved closer to her sex. "That which I ought to take shame in is covered from your view, so I see nothing to fear from this ordeal. Whatever the treatment requires I will do it faithfully and without question, I swear to you." As Moira leaned back against his chest, she gently rested her head against his cheek and slightly tightened her grip on his hips to keep her balance.

"You look forward to them?" Bernard could not mask the surprise in his voice. "I would not have thought that at all." He fell silent after that, paused in thought and motion as she situated herself closer against him. He thought of her warm center, the wet spot he'd seen on her bloomers more than once. He tried to shake the thought away, with little success.

After she continued her reassurance, he spoke again. "You need not fear censure from me, my child. I am well aware of the importance of these tasks, and your assistance and willingness to aid my efforts is for nothing less than your very soul. And you have handled such realities with all that can be expected. Even now, I have noticed how you've adjusted to assist me and make this less uncomfortable for me, and I am warmed by it. You have shown nothing but bravery and thoughtfulness, Moira, and I am...humbled by it. But I have felt your fear. The way you flinched in the sacristy and even the way you trembled earlier. You need not feel ashamed of it. In truth, I have been afraid as well, with each pass of my hand I worry I might make contact with you somewhere that will...more than startle you."

Moira nodded. "I look forward to the feeling of being cleansed," she clarified. "To the feeling of being one step farther from damnation, one step closer to God." His hand rested on her thigh as she resituated herself. She chewed on the inside of her lip and tried not to focus on how that hand felt, on how close it was to what she really wanted but was afraid to admit she wanted.

Yes, she was assisting him to make him less comfortable. She was brave and thoughtful. Bernard helped to calm her pounding heart even as he admitted that he worried that he might touch her somewhere that might startle her. A blush rose to Moira's cheeks and she was glad she wasn't facing him. "I um..." She took another deep breath. "Your strength helps me," she said after gathering her thoughts, "and with it I am not afraid. I'm prepared to do whatever it takes to cleanse myself of this evil. Whatever you ask of me I'll do without question and without fear, I promise."

At her response, Bernard closed his eyes, feeling a combination of guilt and excitement. She would do anything. She would let anything be done. Part of him had wished that she were more uncomfortable, less trusting, less desperate to rid herself of unholy influence. Were she, he would be able to resist making his next suggestion, to spare her more discomfort. It would be weakness, yes, but he was unsure enough of his motivations to seek an excuse to avoid them. Instead...

"Moira..." he began unsteadily, "I would like nothing more than to give you that, to make you feel what you desire." He inched his hand closer to her center. "You described how the beast touched you...where he touched you. We haven't addressed that, but if you truly wish to do everything we are able..." he trailed off, trusting her to figure out the rest.

Something wicked deep inside her cackled to feel his heart pounding against her back, hearing his breath catch, knowing what he must be struggling with. But Moira was unaware, consciously at least, of that wickedness. All she was aware of was Bernard's promise to make her feel what she desired...but oh God how sinful her desires were! She wasn't entirely certain of what he was suggesting when he trailed off, but she made her best guess. The idea made her insides clench with want, made her center slick even as his hand moved closer. She wanted to take his hand, to guide him to her center to touch her...but that would have been sin of the highest order. Instead she would wait on her shepherd to guide her.

"Whatever you think is necessary for my purification," she said softly, leaning back a little to put slightly more of her weight against his chest and push her hips ever-so-slightly forward. "If you have to anoint every inch of my flesh which was defiled by the demon, I'll obey and I'll welcome your healing touch. Is...is there anything I can do? For you, I mean...to make it easier or to help you in any way?"

Whatever was necessary. Every inch of her flesh. Moira hadn't specifically stated she wished him to cleanse that area, but whatever he felt was necessary. "Very well, then. I will do as best I can." Taking deep breaths, Bernard dipped his fingers in a nearby bowl and slid his hand back under the blanket, then under her bloomers, the occasional drop of water splashing on her bare skin. His hand froze just before descending, hovering just above her center. "As far as your offer, I do have some...requests to make of you." He lowered his hand down, the heel of his palm resting on her mound. "Please say if you are too uncomfortable to continue. I could not forgive myself were I to drive you away from God's salvation."

Slowly, he brought his fingers down, one outstretched to stroke her lower lips in exploration. "Is this all right, Moira?" He repeated the motion, making a note of how she felt, his finger moving very slowly as he tried to memorize this part of her. It was not a part of women he knew well. Gently, he pushed inward, feeling the tip of his finger slide past her lips.

Moira's heart thundered in her chest, and when Bernard asked her to grant a request and she nodded. "Anything for you, Bernard," she promised, once again forgetting to address him as "Father." He asked her to say whether she was uncomfortable and she nodded. "Nothing could drive me from God," she promised, "but I'll tell you if it's too much."

His hand was cool but not cold as the heel of his hand rested against her mound, and she trembled in anticipation. She could only hope that it didn't seem like she was hesitant or afraid. The demon had told her to trim herself of excess hair, to make herself other than God had made her so that she would be more appealing to the men who would want her--and many men would, it had promised. In her sinfulness that was something she had admitted to it that she had wanted, to be admired and desired, and in her pride although the demon was gone from her mind she had still done as it had told her. Her lower lips were bare and slick, therefore, when he touched her slowly.

"It's alright," she assured Bernard as he touched her tentatively. Gently he pushed his finger between her lips, sliding it against her slick want. Moira fought to control her breath as she tilted her hips forward ever-so-slightly. "Like that," she confirmed quietly, bunching his cassock in her fist. "A little higher. It...it touched me a little higher. And...inside..." Her face burned again at the admission, but if he didn't know exactly how the beast had violated her, he couldn't help her as effectively.

So preoccupied was Bernard with the discoveries beneath and then surrounding his finger that he didn't even register Moira's lack of honorific. "I know, Moira. You have such a strong soul, and I would not drive you away if I could. I only wish to bring you closer."

Bernard was surprised at the feel of her. He had expected more hair, or, at least some hair. He wasn't entirely sure how long ago it should have come in, but certainly before her current age. Given that, and his desire to portray himself as someone not completely engrossed in touching a young girl, he attempted to use it as idle conversation. "Moira," he asked quietly, aware that he would not want the question heard by anyone other than her, "have you not...grown anything down there?" As he asked, his finger trailed upward and began exploring the top of her mound and absorbing the unexpected sensation, the wetness from his finger's earlier travels deposited atop her.

Remembering his "task," Bernard slid back down to her lips, moving inside faster as she met him with her hips, and pushing deeper as she encouraged him. He followed her instructions as best he could, trying and failing to block out seeing her fists bunch up his cassock. "Here?"

Moira chewed on the inside of her cheek, concentrating on not moaning in pleasure as he cleansed her of her sin. He asked whether she had grown any hair, she nodded. "I have, but...the demon made me shave it," she said reluctantly. "It said that would make me more desirable, and it took more pleasure in it itself. It touched me and told me how much it enjoyed stroking my bare flesh as it whispered wicked, sinful things in my ear."

Her hips rose to meet him as the priest's fingers slid deeper and moved faster, moving inside her after exploring her clit. She braced her hands on Bernard's thighs as she moved her hips on his fingers. "There," she confirmed with a soft sigh. "It was...was deep inside me, Bernard, and the way it touched me...maybe if you curled your fingers?" As she moved her hips she closed her eyes and let her head rest on the priest's shoulder. Should she tell him...? She probably ought to. It was in both of their interests, after all, for him to know what the demon had told her so that he could better help her.

"It told me that it loved how tight I was," she murmured, her inner walls clenching gently around his fingers, "and how fast I could make a man cum. It told me it would teach me how to..." she hesitated, nervous, but decided that the original wording would be best for the sake of getting the proper help. "How to suck cock and swallow whatever a man could give me. How to ride him until he begged me. It taught me how to touch myself and told me it would teach me how to touch a man. I was so sinful, Bernard..." His name fell off of Moira's tongue like a gentle moan. If this was how his fingers felt moving inside her, how would...?

No. She mustn't think like that. But God how badly she wanted to! His body felt hard and firm beneath his cassock and she wanted to know...