Forbidden Reading by Lisette Ashton Page B

along the fingers embedded in her cleft. The priest’s tongue remained a warm wet balm against the split of her labia and his penetrative kisses inspired flurries of wicked and wanton responses. Justine struggled to remain silent beneath his tongue and bit back every gratified sob that rose to the back of her throat.
    The priest raised his head from between her legs and glared at the grille. Momentarily his fingers stopped squirming in Justine’s sex as he lifted his face to hers. He was panting with arousal and, when he placed his mouth against her ear, Justine could feel that the wetness of her sex had dampened his lips, chin and cheek. The intimacy of that sensation made her excitement grow more profound.
    ‘This worthless putain is fucking her sister’s husband,’ he explained.
    Justine nodded, realising she had understood that small part of the penitent’s confession. Her concern for the woman’s sin was barely negligible. In her heightened state of arousal Justine thought the penitent could have fucked her way through the entire village and she would have cared less. She was more focused on having the priest satisfy those needs that lingered in the fetid warmth of her loins. Nevertheless she forced herself to listen to him when he pushed his mouth closer to her ear.
    ‘I do not want to absolve her of her sins,’ he breathed. ‘There are not enough penances to atone for such deviance. I want to punish this putain the way I would punish you. What do you suggest?’
    She hesitated before trying to think of a response. It was clear that the priest genuinely did want her input and she surmised this was another aspect of the test she was undergoing. Racking her brains for the right way to reply, trying to think of an answer that would show him she was worthy of acquiring La Coste , Justine was delighted when inspiration finally struck.
    Pushing her mouth over the priest’s ear, cupping a hand against the side of his head so there was no danger of her voice escaping, she whispered, ‘Tell her to show you her bare backside.’
    The priest pulled away from her for a moment, and then raised an eyebrow.
    Justine pushed her mouth over his ear and urgently whispered the remainder of her plan. All the time she was talking she was painfully aware of the priest’s body pressing against hers. He still wore his vestments, the pectoral cross continued to stick painfully into one of her breasts, but his nearness was as sexually stimulating as the two fingers he continued to wriggle inside her pussy. His chest was broad and manly and it crushed heavily against her breasts. Stiffness had returned to his length and she could feel the pulse of his eager shaft through the coarse fabric of his cassock. Their half of the confessional booth was sultry with the heat from their passion and the scents of her arousal tinged every breath. Equally exciting was the daring of her plan to punish and subjugate the woman on the other side of the confessional’s grille. She didn’t know if the priest would follow her suggestions but she couldn’t deny that there was a thrill in dictating a penitent’s fate.
    The priest pulled himself away from Justine’s mouth. His dark smile glinted in the confessional’s gloom. Turning to the grille, he barked a series of gruff instructions through the small window. Justine could hear shock and incredulity in the woman’s responses but she had heard the note of acquiescence in her tone long before she saw the buttocks being pressed against the open grille.
    The penitent’s backside was bare. The split of her sex was pushed up against the small opening and, when the priest slid the grille aside, Justine was shocked to find herself staring at a stranger’s pussy. Although her idea for punishment had been exciting, and seemed appropriate at the time, she hadn’t expected the priest to really use one of his parishioners in such a perverted manner. But the thoughts of her own depravity were quickly brushed