Her head spun dizzily as a sweat broke out on her face and she felt herself flushing all over. This was what she wanted, she knew that, and yet she felt so fearful. She just did not know what to think. She was terrified! She took one frightened glance through the grill, caught a brief glimpse of Father Thomas's flashing teeth, then jumped up and ran out of the church crying and horrified.
When she got home she threw herself down on her bed and sobbed relentlessly. She stayed in her room for three days, weeping and saying prayers. And that had been the last time she had entered this place. That was six years ago…
Now, new feelings of guilt were spilling out and she needed someone to lap them up and guide her to repentance and salvation. It had been six years of an ever-growing need for forgiveness, six years of remorse for refusing her punishment from Father Thomas. There had not been a day that she had not felt guilty for running out of the confession booth all those years ago.
She glanced through the grill and saw the priest's thin fingers stroking his pointed beard and his eyes flashing as he raised his head. She turned away fearfully, shrunk back into the darkness and pushed herself hard against the cold stone wall of the church.
"Father, I need to confess," she said nervously, "I need to confess so much."
There was a pause. Maria anxiously looked through the grill again and saw Father Thomas' white teeth shining between his thin lips. He still reminded her of a wolf. For a second she imagined him slavering at her neck before sinking his teeth deeply into her throat. For a moment she was enthralled by the thought of him sucking her blood and drying her to a husk.
"Begin then, my child."
She turned away and stared down between her legs; her knees had fallen slightly open and she quickly drew them back together again. She pressed the palms of her hands against the tops of her smooth thighs as they stretched out from beneath the hem of her black skirt. She took a deep breath.
"Oh Father, I have been so wicked, I just don't know where to start."
"Start at the beginning," he said.
CHAPTER 2
"It began this morning -"
"Every detail," urged Father Thomas. "Every little detail, don't miss anything out, I need every little detail. Where do you live?"
"I live in a small ground floor flat, actually it's just across the road from here, facing the church. I woke up late this morning, I don't have to go to work -"
"What were you wearing, my child?" he interrupted.
"I was wearing a pyjama top."
"Was it buttoned up?"
"Yes, no, well it had been, but in the night it had come undone. The two sides had pulled wide apart and exposed -"
"What? Had exposed what?"
"My, my breasts, Father, it had come undone and exposed my breasts."
"What are they like, your breasts?"
Maria did not reply straight away, then she realised that this was her only way to be saved, confessing was her only hope, she had to be totally honest and tell Father Thomas everything.
"They are quite small actually, but firm. Sometimes, when I lie on my bed I enjoy rubbing my hands around them. My nipples are small as well, and pink, they stand out from the darker, pink circles around them."
"Did the sides of your pyjama top pull at your breasts? Did they poke out through the gap? Did you feel the tightness of the material against them? Tell me, it's important."
"Yes, Father it did pull at them, and yes, they did poke out as I went to take my shower."
"Did you wash all over?"
"Yes. I washed myself slowly. I splashed shower gel across my breasts and rubbed the foam all around them. The bubbles dribbled down my body, down my legs and off the ends of my toes. I like the way they tickle. Then I splashed more gel onto my hair and ran my hands through it, rubbing it and drawing it out in long strands. A shower always makes me feel sort of glowing and warm. I really do enjoy massaging myself in the shower. Then I dressed in my black suit, the one I've got on now."
"I need the details," said Father Thomas. He was smiling like a wolf again. "What did you put on to start with? Tell me, and then tell me exactly how you put them on."
"I put out a white embroidered bra and a white silky suspender belt with shiny metal clasps, oh, and some flesh-pink stockings. I sat on the edge of the bed, pulled the suspender belt around my waist and did up the two small metal clasps at the back. Then I pulled down the suspenders and pressed the ones at the front flat against my thighs. Then I picked up the white bra and put that on."
"How did your breasts, your beautiful small breasts, fit into it?"
"They fitted well, I like pulling the straps tightly over my shoulders and feeling my breasts press into the soft material of the bra cups. My nipples were quite soft and they didn't stick out, but you can just see their darkness through this bra, it's so thin and silky… then I went to make a cup of tea."
"Was that all you were wearing? Just your bra and suspender belt and stockings?"
"Yes, that's all I was wearing when I went to the kitchen. I looked over to the church. It was so grey and foreboding. Oh Father, every day I see it, it tortures me, just thinking of this confession booth… well, when I looked out of the kitchen window I saw a hole in the road! I could hardly believe my eyes. It was only a few yards away from the hole that I had to run past during that terrible summer when I was thirteen, and the head of a young workman peered out over the rim…
"I went back and looked at myself in the mirror. I stretched my arms up and looked at myself and it made me excited. I pressed my hands across the front of the suspender belt and pressed my stomach out against them. The mound at the base of my stomach, with my hairs, stuck out from beneath the silky material that was pulled tightly around my waist. I felt a bit wicked and sinful when I stretched my thumbs against the inside edges of my hips. It made me sigh, you know, to think of my thumbs working their way slowly inwards across the base of my stomach. But I stopped myself, I really did Father, I stopped myself. Then I heard the kettle crackling like mad because it hadn't got any water in it! I rushed to it and when I lifted the lid, steam gushed from it and burned my hand. It made me yelp. I dropped the lid behind the refrigerator. Look, my hand was burned rather badly."
She offered her hand up to the lattice-work grill then realised he could not see it.
"I had to screw up my face to bear the pain and it made me bite my bottom lip. I leant onto the top of the refrigerator to look at the scald. The metal top felt cool against my skin, it was nice, so I bent further forward and let my breasts flatten out against the cool metal. I stretched right over to see if I could reach the kettle top but couldn't. The refrigerator is in a small alcove and the wall comes out around it and I couldn't get round the sides either. I leant further over the top of the refrigerator, stretching my arm as much as I could. In the end, I stood on tiptoe but it was hopeless."
"Yes, yes, and you had not got any panties on!"
"No, that was the thing, I felt really bad, my bottom sticking up like that, and the more I leant over the more tightly the two front clasps on my suspender belt jammed against the top of the refrigerator. They pulled really tight and dug into my waist at the back, it really hurt."
"Did you like that? Did you like the pain?"
"Well, yes, in a way I suppose I did."
"Go on then. How did you feel lying across the refrigerator?"
"Oh Father, I felt really exposed and it made me feel odd, you know, guilty in a way, and yes, it hurt but the pain seemed to make me feel excited. Oh Father I'm so terrible! My bottom was sticking right up, naked, it excited me so much, I could feel the cool air touching the insides of my open thighs and, and it caused me to open them even more. I spread them wider and wider, just to reveal, oh Father, have I got to say? Have I got to say?"