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Father Augustine felt a rough, calloused hand clamp down on ..
🕑 Added 2024-08-13 14:00:13 +0000 UTC Father Augustine felt a rough, calloused hand clamp down on the back of his head, fingers digging into his scalp and making every uprooted follicle scream. He steadied himself, trying his best to adjust to the overwhelming, blinding light blocking his vision. "Good evening, brother," a disembodied voice rang out. The room sounded large, ancient, and in a moment of silence could hear the dripping of water. Was he underground? Under the church? The accusing voice cut through the thick air, its sharpness tinged with amusement. "You’ve been indulging in the sins of the flesh, haven’t you?" The voice said, his rough outline barely coming into view and pulling a phone out of his pocket, the white light of the screen clashing against the blinding orange in front of him. After a moment of adjustment he could see what was being shown to him - a profile, his own profile, on the gay hookup app he had just started to use a few months ago. A pang of guilt twisted in his stomach as he realized how public his private indulgences had become. "Bishop Thomlinson does not need to know about our little secret, does he?" The voice said after giving Augustine enough time to realize exactly what was going to happen. "I figured we could welcome you into the brotherhood and fulfill that desperate little fantasy of yours..." Father Augustine could feel a twisted sense of panic and excitement, horror and arousal, as another hand wrenched at his jaw, opening his mouth and readying it for what was coming. "...becoming our little cock whore."
