Chapter Text
The cold air of London was unforgiving during this time of year. The days had been dark and dreary, filled with silent prayers and whispers as he went about his day-to-day life. Dark clouds gave way to the winds that blew through his wool coat, chilling him down to his bones. He clenched his hands inside his pockets, exhaling, feeling his breath vaporize in front of him into a cloud of air. The ground was covered with sludge from the leftover snow, and with each step, as he made his way to his destination, he rotated a rosary inside the thick pockets, muttering silent prayers for his Lord up above.
Tom Riddle, an intelligent, gifted young man, had recently ventured into his career in the Priesthood. Upon entering his twenty-fourth year of life, he oversaw the operations of the cathedral where he worked. He had dedicated his entire life to worshipping the Lord, for reasons only he knew. He knew he was special – that he was unlike the rest of the Londoners.
His ability to sway and command the hall was almost hypnotic. When he spoke in a room, everyone would turn to face the blue-eyed man who stood at least a head above everyone else. His eyes would stare into yours and would make you want to confess your deepest sins, a quality that was considered to be good for a future priest. His deep but quiet voice would rattle the bones of the worshippers who stood on their knees at the altar. The Church clergy adored him, the people followed him, and the young boys looked up to him as if he were the idol they were worshipping instead.
Tom was exceptional, his dedication was unwavering. During his younger years, he would spend hours working beside the Priest, researching, studying, and gathering experience with hopes of one day taking his place. He had been working there since his early childhood, where he became an altar boy, and now, a man of twenty-four, he was more than prepared to become a vital part of the Catholic church.
To be important was Tom’s greatest desire in his life. He craved the recognition that he received when he would stand next to the clergy. His azure eyes would scan the room, dark eyelashes fluttering up slowly as he searched the crowd for the faces he had grown accustomed to. After each service, the worshippers would come up to him and kiss his robes to bless him for being such an incredible priest and leader to all of the sheep needing guidance.
Tom Riddle would cite Bible verses, charmingly speaking the way of God’s will upon troubled hearts and minds. He knew his Bible intimately, spending his entire adolescence with his nose to his book, studying each verse. The intimacy with which he knew the Bible was one of the many reasons why the churchgoers around him worshipped him so fervently; he never failed to comfort and guide them toward the light. He used the teachings of Christ to propel him forward, believing that he was blessed personally by the Lord to guide people to follow him. It was a righteous life living as a priest; after all, priests were our closest communicators to God.
On this gloomy Wednesday, Tom was not excited to head to church; he had woken up with a cold and felt exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot, his nose red, and the bone-chilling air had him feeling lightheaded. However, he knew his duties must continue, and that no matter how he felt, he had to show up for his church.
He inhaled a deep breath as he opened the large, brown oak doors to enter the cathedral. With a flick of his hand, he turned on the lights in the foyer and walked his way down to his office, where he spent most of his time. He looked at the black leather journal he kept on his desk and flipped it open to the page marked with today’s date. His eyes scanned the page, committing his agenda to memory. Surprisingly, today marked one of the days on which he had less stuff to do than normal. Regularly, his day was filled with multiple tasks such as visiting the sick, baptisms, and marriages as well as masses. However, it seemed that today there was an exception. Other than waiting for confessionals and his daily mass, he had nothing to do.
Tom muttered a small sigh of relief and coated it with a prayer of gratitude to the Lord for allowing him to rest easy during his illness. As he finished reviewing his agenda for the day and the remainder of the week, he rose from his chair to shut his office door. He made his way back to his desk and pulled out the brown rosary he kept on his person at all times, and began his daily prayers for God and Mary.
A knocking sound came from the end of the office, which disrupted his prayers. “Ahem,” the voice on the other side muttered as they cleared their throat.
Tom’s gaze broke from his hands as he looked up, his eyebrows furrowing as his brain racked who could have been there. The church was empty when he walked in; he even turned the lights on himself, so he was unsure when the person on the other side of the door had entered. He took another breath before exhaling and clearing his throat before responding. “Come in.”
The doorknob turned slowly, and soft footsteps entered his room. “Ah,” he sighed, “Sister Beatrice, I didn’t see you when I entered the church,” he said, smiling.
Beatrice nodded her head as a sign of respect before looking up to meet him in his eyes. “That is alright, Father. I arrived only a few minutes after your entry. Did I startle you?” She asked in her soft voice.
Tom shook his head, “No, Beatrice, I was just surprised to hear a knock that's all.”
Sister Beatrice was a woman in her late 60s who worked for the church alongside Tom. She was a kind woman with wrinkles around her eyes. She had a particular knack for working with children, leading Sunday school with authority but affection. Tom considered her a great friend and confidant. Sister Beatrice had raised Tom, she worked at the orphanage where he was raised and was his Sunday school teacher for as long as he could remember.
Beatrice had taken a liking to Tom, for reasons unknown to her. She found the boy to be strange but intelligent, containing depth to his knowledge that many of the schoolboys his age had lacked. She felt a sense of responsibility towards him, almost as if it was God’s calling for her. Thus, she kept a close eye on him throughout the years, eventually leading him to work for the church in his teens.
She smiled at him. “I apologize for interrupting, I came to announce that I had arrived and to ask you if you needed my assistance with anything.”
Tom nodded his head. “Thank you, Sister.” He moved his hand off from the desk and gestured towards the chair that sat in front of him, nodding his head once more to indicate her presence was welcome.
Beatrice shook her head softly, respectfully declining his invitation. “No, thank you, Father. I have to get to preparations for the mass.”
“That is alright,” he replied, “Are you having a good morning so far?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “I shall leave you to your prayers, Father. I apologize once again for disrupting you. I'll let the other nuns know that you are seeking some private time in your office, and for them not to disrupt.”
Tom’s chest rose as he looked and met her smile. “That is good, Sister, thank you.”
With that response, Sister Beatrice made her way out of the room and softly shut the office door behind her.
.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.
The day passed quietly with the Londoners coming into mass in the morning and worshipping the Lord under Tom’s guidance. He took lunch alone and spent the rest of the day praying and reading. As the sun began setting, Tom Riddle began wrapping up his tasks for the day; his confessionals were empty, and the hall of the church was barren from worshippers. The only sound that could be heard was the Nuns sweeping the ground, wiping chairs, and dusting the altar. .
Once the Nuns had departed, Tom prepared to take his leave when he noticed someone kneeling in one of the rows. Her hands were clasped as her face was twisted in stress, her pink lips were muttering rapidly, and she failed to notice the priest at the end of the hall who was looking at her.
Unlike the other patrons, Tom had never seen her before. It was not very common for young women to come to church by themselves; most normally had a parent or friend alongside them. He surveyed her quickly but felt his breath hitch when she crossed herself and looked up. Her eyes seemed to meet his, and he was immediately taken aback. She couldn’t have been older than her early twenties, with her youthful pale face and plump lips, she looked as if she could have been Tom’s age. Her veil covered her jet-black hair and shielded her face from him. Tom had not seen other women enter with a veil, it was uncustomary for his church.
Despite him swearing her eyes met his, it seemed as if the lights were playing tricks on him because she completely ignored him and continued with her prayer, treating Tom as if he were invisible.
After finishing her prayers, she didn’t notice Tom was standing at the end of the altar looking at her. She got up, briefly dusted her skirt, and exited the church without a second glance at him.
Chapter Text
Two weeks had gone by since the incident in the Church. Tom Riddle had gone about his day, plagued by the young woman who had briefly graced his presence with hers. Normally, when new people began attending the Church, they made it their mission to introduce themselves to Tom because they were going to be visiting frequently. However, this girl was unlike everyone else; she made that clear when she refused to acknowledge Tom.
Her demeanor was otherworldly too, with her veil covering her eyes and hair, her dark, long skirt flowing behind her, and her heels, which were fall too tall to click quietly on the ground. Her walk was catlike, she was entrancing, and she had taken up Tom’s thoughts for the next few weeks after her appearance.
Tom had taken the day off from his duties as the nuns were working with another priest who frequented the masses on days Tom needed to rest. It was unlike him to step away from the church, but he needed to spend a day researching and praying.
Tom rolled out of bed at noon, he was afraid he had slept in way longer than he intended. He couldn’t seem to rise, as he was lying on his back twirling the prayer beads in his hand as he stared hopelessly at the ceiling, hoping for God to manifest in his room. He knew it was no use, there was no saving him.
After what seemed like forever, he got up and went to his small kitchen. Tom lived in a small flat on the sixth floor of the building. His house was small, albeit cozy, but it was bigger than the room he was assigned at the orphanage, so it would do. The house was the most he was able to afford with his small salary and the money the church could scrape by from donations. His living conditions never bothered him, though; he was raised humble and found it odd to place importance on such measly things.
He made himself an early afternoon breakfast of toast with a side of butter and jam. His cabinets were near empty, he made a mental note to add the grocery store to his list of destinations.
Tom dressed in a pair of black slacks and a white dress shirt, carefully putting on a vest as well. As Tom was leaving his flat he shrugged on a coat, and prepared to make his way to his chores.
The first stop on Tom’s list was the bookstore down the street. It was almost a half-hour walk but he kept himself busy with his thoughts. The weather had cleared up since the unforgiving frost it was two weeks ago. London hadn’t seen rain or snow in two weeks, which was quite unlike it considering it was January. But as the clouds grew darker and the minutes passed, Tom realized it was any day now that rain would pour down from the skies.
Tom made his way out of the flat and began his walk. Truth be told Tom had not recovered since that incident in the church. He felt plagued by the young woman’s presence. Tom had never seen such a sight before, so it was unusual for churchgoers to come with veils. He realized she must have been from somewhere else. Due to this girl plaguing him, he had resorted to freverent prayers to the Lord to help him find her, forget her, get to know her, anything that would help quench the desire his mind had been quarreling with him for.
As Tom browsed the section of historical religious texts at the bookstore, he felt himself pouring into them. Tom yearned for literature, besides God his greatest love was to learn. Education was all he could pride himself on growing up without a family. His education made him feel powerful, smart, unlike anyone else. At age 8 he was already reading some of the greatest classics of all time, pouring into those tomes as if his soul relied on them.
Tom was standing by the door flipping through the pages of his book that described the different practices of Christianity, searching for one that might describe her. He knew she couldn’t have been a typical Catholic, considering her veil and the way she prayed. She even walked backwards out of the exit, which was uncommon for the other Catholic girls and churchgoers. He chose to check out the tome and headed out the store, ducking through the exit.
On his walk home he stopped by the small market by his house where he would frequently visit for groceries. During his trip to the bakery section, he noticed long wavy brown hair draped over the shoulder of a slim girl. She picked through the packaged loaves searching for one that seemed to be fresh. Tom immediately thought of how he also preferred his bread to be on the crispier side. She finally found the loaf she wanted and when she lifted up, her eyes met with Tom’s and she smiled.
His heart sank to his stomach, it was her. The same woman who had entered his church and left without so much a second glance at him. Her, who had been in his mind for weeks.
Up close he realized how beautiful she was. Her long shiny brown hair draped over her shoulders and framed her round face ethereally. Her eyes were blue, as blue as his own, creating a stark contrast between her hair and her eyes. Her complexion was pale, which rivaled his as well. As Tom let his eyes scan her face they immediately dropped to her lips. The same lips that were pursed muttering prayers while she stood on her knees at his altar.
She was breathtaking up close. He had never seen a woman like her. Tom was so distracted by her presence that he physically forced himself to smile at her. Suddenly, Tom decided it would be beneficial if he introduced himself to her. He walked up to her and spoke, “Hello, Miss, I’m Tom Riddle, I am a priest at the church infront of Wool’s orphanage. I just thought I would introduce myself and let you know that if you ever need anything, our doors are open. God is always willing to accept people into the light,” he said slyly.
He wanted to test her, get her reaction, see how she would respond to him. Would she admit to willingly ignoring him two weeks ago? Would she admit who she was and why she had stumbled upon his church? He was confused, plagued, he demanded answers.
The woman smiled at him, her blue eyes sparkling as she looked into his own. “Pleasure to meet you, Father Riddle. I recently moved here so it is nice to talk to someone who lives in the city,” she said looking at him.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss,” Tom replied
She smiled at him and bowed her head at his address, “Please, call me Tamar.”
Tom felt his eyebrows raise in surprise at her name. “Tamar,” he said, the name hot on his tongue. “Forgive me for asking, but where did you move from, Tamar?” Tom repeated her name; he was curious and almost enthralled. Her name was foreign on his tongue, almost like the girl himself.
Tamar’s smile did not fade as she continued speaking to him. “I am from Tbilisi, my father, an Englishman went to Georgia on a mission to expand his knowledge on the Orthodox Church. He fell for my mother, and alas, I was born.”
Tom looked at her before he spoke again, “Ah, I share your father’s desire to learn about religion as my job as a priest requires me to do extensive research on Christianity and the branch I had been researching recently was Orthodoxy,” Tom said with a slight smile.
“Delightful, Father. I hope you enjoy your research. It was very nice meeting you and I look forward to seeing you around,” Tamar smiled once again before bowing her head.
Tom nodded his head and stepped to the side so she could pass by him. He did not speak, but he smiled a sly smile. He did not inquire about what had brought her to England, he didn’t want to pry. Yet, he didn’t feel like the opportunity had passed him. Something told him he would see her again.
.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.
Finally meeting Tamar was not enough for him, he found that the woman still plagued his mind. She dug her way into his thoughts as if she cursed him. He was unsure why she came to England, let alone why she was now plaguing him. It was strange, and unlike Tom to feel this way.
No woman had ever caught his eye before, so much so that he considered taking a vow of celibacy prior to priesthood. However, he craved a wife, he craved to know what it felt like to be intimate. He never allowed himself to fall into the pleasures of the flesh.
Yet Tamar had tempted him, simply by looking up into his eyes with hers and with her tongue licking her big lips.
The day after their encounter he spent his day working and fell back into the routine of being a priest. Tom decided he wouldn’t let her plague him the way she had, it was blasphemous to allow someone else to control him. Especially her, a girl who he barely exchanged any words with.
His days in the month that followed had gone by slow, morning mass, confessionals, research, and prayers spent in solitude. The calm days were his favorite, he enjoyed the solemnity and the peace that came from them, especially when rain would be pouring outside the Church’s walls.
A knock sounded on his door and he got up to answer. He twisted the door knob and pulled open the door to find Sister Beatrice was standing in front of him. She smiled before she spoke.
“Father, I know you are preparing to make your leave but there is someone waiting in the confessional,” she said calmly.
Tom nodded, “Thank you, sister. I will be with them shortly.”
After Beatrice left, Tom made his way down to the room where he held his confessions. It was behind the altar, separated by a wall. He opened the curtain and sat down, and as he prepared to speak he heard a voice. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
Chapter Text
Tom’s breath hitched and he felt his body freeze… It couldn’t be her, it was impossible. He recognized her voice, he knew it was Tamar. He inhaled a deep breath before speaking, being careful to not give away that he is nervous. “May God help you to know your sins and trust in his mercy.” Tom barely got the words out, but his ears picked up on the breathy sigh that escaped her lips.
“Father, I…” Tamar was stuttering, her voice was shaky, and she could hardly get a word out. “I have never been to a confessional before, confessions are not common in my religion, it is rare for us to have them,” She said, wringing her hands nervously. “However, I recently moved to London and I haven’t been able to find a Georgian Orthodox Church and I desperately needed to speak to a Priest.” Tamar was rambling, her quick words spewing nervously out of her mouth.
Tom’s chest rose as he inhaled. He reviewed his next few words carefully and after a few seconds, he decided to continue. “You sound worried,” he said, keeping his composure. “Lay your troubles upon the Lord and let him guide you.”
Tamar took this as an invitation and proceeded to speak. “I feel so guilty being away from home, it has properly wrecked me, I have never felt so alone. All I can think are negative thoughts.”
Her confession had Tom’s head reeling. From the second he had met her, he had become intrigued. She sparked a light in him he didn’t know he had. It was concerning the way his chest constricted at the sight of her, or how her voice was so captivating and enticing that he felt his blood flow through his veins due to his heart pumping.
Tamar’s presence was a threat to him, she was temptation incarnate, a sin that begged him to give into the gluttonous and lustful desires of his soul. He had repented and prayed for forgiveness multiple times for lusting after this woman. He had barely even known her and yet he was intrigued, plagued almost.
Tom gathered his thoughts about him before he spoke. “Negative thoughts?” he asked, calmly. “What is plaguing you?”
The sound of her lungs expanding filled the small booth she was in. “Naughty thoughts,” she said. “About a man, I do not know.”
Heat crept up Tom’s neck as he felt himself turn red. A man? He couldn’t hide his surprise. He should have figured a beautiful woman like her would have her sights set on a man or be looking for a partner. However, he couldn’t hide the fact that he was disappointed in finding out she was not only thinking of a man but that she was experiencing lustful thoughts about him.
Tom waited for her to finish, but as she remained silent, he decided to fill the gap. “The Lord does not judge, for he is the way, the truth, and the light.”
With that, Tamar decided to confess. “Father, forgive me for being lustful. I have been so alone that my isolation has led me to fall into the temptations of the flesh,” Tamar said as she wrung her hands. Tom could not see her but he could feel the heat from her confession begin to affect him. Tom’s hands went up to his neck and he tugged the thick black and white collar around. It was constricting his airflow and causing him to overheat.
He was confused, shocked even. Didn’t Tamar know that he was the priest who worked at this church? That the man whom she was confessing to was a mere stranger she smiled and introduced herself to at the supermarket merely a month ago? He had smiled and told her the location of the church and she had not shown up a single time since the first time he saw her.
This made no sense to Tom, he could not understand it. How could she feel comfortable enough as an Orthodox woman to come to a church she only visited once to confess to a priest who she had only ever conversed with outside of the church walls? The same priest whose sermons she had never attended. The same priest who had requested her to join during mass.
Tamar’s presence caused Tom’s vision to blur, and it was combined with the pressure of continuing the confession. He knew he had to compose himself, lest he wanted her to continue speaking to him. As a priest, he was used to hearing sinful thoughts and actions ranging from mild to horrific. The churchgoers loved Tom and felt no shame in confessing their deepest secrets to him. Lust was one of the sins Tom was so used to hearing about that he never lost his composure. Tom had never felt his cock stir at a confession, unlike him now. He understood that human bodies were programmed with the need to procreate, albeit the personal need to act upon it, because their body commanded them to.
Yet a confession from the good Christian girl he had seemingly met one month ago was not on his to-do list. Nowhere in his leather journal had he written that Tamar would show up at his church and talk about her temptations. Even if she had, Tom supposed that it still wouldn’t have been enough to prepare him.
Tamar’s confession had him teetering off the rails of sanity. He knew he couldn’t remain quiet longer and he carefully opened his mouth to allow his sentence to escape, “The Lord forgives all of our sins, even the deadly ones. Temptations of the flesh are difficult to ignore, however, our Lord gives us strength to overcome.”
“Oh, Father,” Tamar sighed, “It is so unbearable, I…”
Tom noticed she was stuttering and having difficulty speaking. “Speak your truth, the Lord will forgive you if you are honest.”
Tom heard her take in a deep breath before she began. The remorse heavy in her voice caused him to feel his own breathing hitch. “I moved here from Tbilisi a few months prior and left my life behind. I found it difficult to make friends here as English was my secondary language and my whole life I was raised amongst people who I shared my culture with,”
Not keen to interrupt, Tom remained silent, allowing her to express her dismay.
“Yet, I come here and I am alone, and I begin feeling these sensations,” she said. “It is almost like the devil has burrowed himself into my skin and is taking me whole. I cannot escape until I–”
Her voice hitched and she went silent. Tom, eager to know what she was going to say, decided to speak. “Until you do what?”
Tamar inhaled again before speaking, she said the next words so quietly Tom had to hold his breath to hear them. “Until I touch myself, Father.”
Tom let out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding. All the blood rushed from his head to his cock as he felt it harden in his trousers. He was aroused and his pants were getting achingly tighter by the minute squeezing the hardness between his legs.
His hand ran rapidly through his dark waves tousling it from stress as he attempted to contain himself, his left hand began trailing down to the hardness between his legs. Palming the tightness of his trousers. “Do you touch yourself, often?”
“No, Father, I am usually good at resisting temptation. However, I have not been able to overcome it in recent months.”
Tom Riddle had a choice, he could completely blow his respectability as a priest and proceed to ask Tamar very inappropriate questions or he could pray for strength and proceed to help guide her towards the light and path of redemption. The lack of blood in his brain was causing him to falter. He felt lost, but as he continued palming himself he couldn’t hold onto the lack of friction much longer. “What do you do when you feel the urge?” he asked her.
“Pardon?” She asked, her voice raising an octave as she felt herself confused by his question.
Tom took another breath, “How do you overcome the urge to touch yourself? ”
Tamar sighed, clutching her head between her hands. “I don’t,” she said. “I pray for forgiveness before my hand slips between my legs.”
He didn’t need another confession from her as his hand began touching his belt. His nimble fingers worked slowly, being careful to not make noise as he undid it. Slowly, teasingly, he slipped his hand under his waistband and he took hold of his cock, running his fingers along the sensitive tip which was leaking. He needed to relieve himself of the friction his pants were causing him.
His lips trembled as he let out a soft groan. “What else do you do? Tell me, I need to know the gravity of the situation so I can ask for forgiveness of the sins you have committed.”
Her breath hitched, she seemed hesitant to continue. Yet Tom needed her to continue, his dick needed to be relieved of the hardness she had caused him to feel. He began stroking himself slowly, teasing himself as if daring himself to continue reeling into his pleasure. “I pull my panties to the side as I rub my clitoris slowly. It makes me feel so guilty, Father, but I can’t resist. The mere thought of me pleasuring myself makes me so wet, I feel like I’ve committed the biggest sin against my Lord.”
Tom slapped a hand across his mouth struggling to hold down his moans as his hand pumped himself. He imagined her laying on her back feeling the same pleasure he was letting himself feel. Her hands rubbing herself slowly, her eyes rolling back as she inched closure to the feeling he was desperately seeking.
“Oh my, well that is not good is it,” he said cautiously as his voice darkened with lust. His hand was now stroking himself faster as he chased the feeling of pleasure. “Do you allow yourself to feel pleasure? Do you stop when you feel yourself getting wet?”
“Oh no, Father. I keep going, I feel myself get needier and needier as my fingers begin teasing my hole.
He couldn’t take the lewdness of her confession. His veins on his hands were getting more visible by the minute as he pumped himself rapidly. Tom’s thumb was working quicker as he gripped underneath the tip of his penis, rubbing his tip as his hands moved up and down.
“You seem to be quite skilled in the art of self pleasure” he purred. “I’m sure you feel quite guilty for committing such a sin.”
Tom couldn’t believe the words that came from Tamar next. She almost sounded as if she wasn’t guilty, that she enjoyed being a sinner. Her actions were tempting him, and he couldn’t help believing that she had come here to be innocent. She knew what she was doing, she had to. “I do feel guilty,” she said. “But I can’t stop. It feels so good to feel myself get closer to my climax.”
He felt his own orgasm nearing, tempting him to commit the final sin and explode. “You mentioned that the thought of masturbation makes your body react. Are there other thoughts you find swarming your mind as you pleasure yourself?”
The lack of blood in his brain would have made him miss the next words that escaped her lips, had he not been aching to hear more on her confession. “I find myself thinking of a man,” she said. “A man whom I barely know. He was so kind to me, and when his blue eyes were looking so deep into mine I felt an immediate attraction.” Her breath hitched but she willed herself to continue, “He is all I can think about. How his hands would feel on my body, replacing my own. How it would feel to run my hands through his black sable waves that fall over his face. I am a woman possessed, and I can’t do anything about it. I can only help once I finish all over my fingers, leaving me a sputtering mess as I yearn for the Lord’s forgiveness.”
It couldn’t be. Was Tamar thinking of him? Had Tom been the man who had caused the poor woman to resist pleasuring herself? His thoughts raced rapidly, just as his hand did. He clutched the bench he was sitting on, his cock threatening to spurt.
“We must pray together, my child. “In times like this we must pray to our Lord and ask him for strength to help us persevere,” he said. “Join me as we ask for forgiveness.”
However, despite these words, Tom didn’t indulge in what he was saying. He continued pumping as he prayed, “Let me guide you in a prayer as we ask the Lord for forgiveness.” Tom closed his eyes and began. “Dear Lord, I am heartily sorry for having offended you, and I detest all my sins because of your just punishments, but most of all because they offend you, my God, who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of your grace, to sin no more and to avoid the near occasions of sin. Amen.”
Tamar’s voice followed suit, continuing to follow Tom as he led her. She let out a sigh of relief as Tom finished the prayer. “Father, thank you. I shall refrain from pleasuring myself, longer. I feel so much stronger after your help.” Tom was barely holding on, his hand was clamped over his mouth tightly, squeezing so hard he felt himself ache.
“Of course, our Lord always listens,” he said breathily.
Her voice was sultry as she thanked him once more. “Thank you again, Father. I shall sleep soundly at night knowing my sins were forgiven.” He didn’t miss the way her voice was being seductive. He knew he wasn’t going crazy. Tom felt it in his bones that she was attempting to tempt him, and at last upon the sound of her heels clicking down the hall he squeezed his cock tighter and came all over his hands. He loosened his hand that was wrapped around his lips as he let out the moan. Tom felt his cock twitching as he orgasmed, feeling the sweet pleasure of release taking over his body.
It took him ten minutes to regain his composure. He had never felt the way he did upon hearing her confession. Nobody, no woman had ever made him feel this tense.
She had waltzed into that church one month prior and had completely disrupted the rhythm of Tom’s life. No matter how much time and effort he spent in trying to forget her, it was like God desired to punish him by allowing her to plague his mind. Furthermore, felt that God was testing him, his resistance to sins, and most importantly, a test of faith.
Tom’s trust in the lord was unlike anything else. He trusted the Lord and considered himself to be his humble servant. However, after Tamar’s arrival, he began to feel like a sinner. He had not only sullied himself but had sullied the sacred walls of the confessional as the first jet of cum had splashed, escaping his hands. His devotion to his Lord had begun to falter, and he knew who to attribute this to.
Tamar. She may have been religious, but she was sent by the devil himself. Tom was certain. He would refuse to succumb to Satan and his eager temptations to trick him into betraying the Lord.
So as Tom sat with his hands in his lap, he vowed to avenge the Lord. He would bring Tamar to her knees and punish her for tempting him and for leading him and his thoughts astray.
Chapter Text
In the following weeks after his vow, Tom had devised a plan to yield control over Tamar. He would punish her, punish her hard and rough for all the sins her mere presence had caused him to commit. He would make her bend the knee to him and bring her eye-to-eye with the Lord. The Lord may have been forgiving, but Tom Riddle was not.
He stood in his study, staring at the large bookshelf at the back of his desk. His hands were in his pockets, and his back was straight, emanating the allure of a calm, collected man. Tom Riddle’s demeanor was terrifying; his icy cold glare combined with his body could leave people quivering at his mere gaze. His charm was otherworldly, and he knew that she would eventually succumb to him like everyone else had.
His blue eyes searched the shelves for a book he desired to find. It was not his regular choice of literature, but for the sake of his cause, he had to commit to reading it. Tom was well-read and educated. His memory would go as far as remembering the books he read as a child, holding onto the memories of the characters' adventures. He found his remarkable memory to be the reason why he found so much comfort in God.
Tom had spent countless years studying the Bible, he practically dedicated his whole life to the cause of the Lord. There wasn’t a verse in the New Testament that he hadn’t committed to memory. It was one of the things his followers admired about him, he always knew the right words to say to them during their time of distress. Nevertheless, Tom was not worried about his situation with Tamar. He knew he would succeed in his task.
His eyes led up to the top of the shelf, looking up to the cubby he kept out of reach from everybody. Despite standing six foot four, he needed to grab a stepping stool to reach up to the shelf. He stood and grabbed the book he was looking for, an old novel regarding sexual punishments.
He would never admit this to anyone, but Tom Riddle was fascinated with the art of sexual punishment. He had never allowed himself to get close to exploring those desires, those urges but yet, he craved it. He craved to be in control. He desired to see someone in their weakest, most vulnerable state as he punished them, fucking them until their eyes were hazy with pleasure.
In that top cubby lay old, scandalous novels about the art of sexual pleasure and domination. He would keep the information hidden within those books buried in his brain, never allowing anyone to come close to the scandals he read about.
He pulled the book down and opened it, his long pale fingers dragging across the cover, as he sat down on his chair. His eyes scanned the pages of the sexual encounters of the main character and found himself getting aroused at the thought of doing these atrocities to Tamar. Punishing her was the only way he would be able to forgive her for the ways she had penetrated his mind.
Tamar. Tamar. Tamar. All he could think about was Tamar. Her long black hair and her beautiful blue eyes had encapsulated him at first glance. All he wanted was to wrap his hands through her locks and pull her down to see her face as he fucked her mercilessly.
A soft groan came out from his throat as his mind raced through the scenes he had imagined. He wouldn’t have let himself go through with his actions had she not admitted to lusting after him. Yet, wasn’t it Tamar who made the first move? Wasn’t it she who had come into the confessional and asked him to forgive her for her sins? Yes, he sighed, it was.
He wasn’t deluding himself into thinking she didn’t feel the same way towards him. He knew she did, he could practically feel how desperate she sounded in that confessional.
Tom felt his hand drift down to where his bulge was, already rock hard at the thought of how she mentioned she was touching herself to the thought of him. No. He wouldn’t indulge, not this way, not until he had her begging on her knees in front of him. Praying at his altar to worship her, the way she so desperately needed.
After spending an hour reading he realized it had been time to go to his daily mass. Tom stood up, dusted himself off, and twisted the lock on his desk. He put the book inside and closed it, locking it to make sure the Nuns would not come snooping.
.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.
Tom greeted his churchgoers as he walked towards his podium. His eyes were scanning across the room until he came across the familiar pair of blue eyes. The veil hid her hair, but it didn't hide the smile that was etched upon her lips. There Tamar stood, smiling at him.
His breath caught but he composed himself. Tom wouldn’t let himself smile back at her, he had to keep his composure in front of the church.
He joined his fingers and crossed himself, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” he said watching the goers cross themselves too.
Tom led the followers into their typical routine of mass, allowing them to pray for forgiveness and worship the Lord.
His mind drifted to the thoughts of what Tamar was thinking, She was a sinner, one of the most shameless ones he had ever encountered. How dare she show her face after what she had done to him, the sins she had burdened upon him.
She looked so perfect praying for him, praying on her knees to the Lord, it almost made him desperate to see how she would look for him that way.
As his mass approached a conclusion, he crossed the crowd and watched them cross themselves. “May almighty God bless you, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen. Go in the peace of Christ.”
The worshippers made their way out of the church, while Tom tucked himself behind the room. After the crowd had dissipated, Tom made his way out and found that the hall was empty beside Tamar who stood there waiting for him.
“Hello, Father,” she said smiling at him.
Tom met her smile with one of his own. “Ah, Miss Tamar,” he said. “How are you?”
“I am good, praise the Lord, Father Riddle. How do you find yourself?” she responded.
What could she be possibly doing? What in the devil were her plans? “I am good Miss, How may I help you today?”
Her smile did not falter and neither did her confidence as she replied, “Nothing in particular, I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed your service.”
Tom didn’t miss the way her mouth emphasized the word “enjoyed”, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she was talking about mass or the events that had conspired in the confessional. He chose his next words carefully, being impassive to her advances. “Thank you, I am glad that my love for the Lord has allowed you to pray and connect with him the way I do.”
“Oh yes,” she said, stepping closer to Tom. “I feel cleansed and closer to the Lord than ever,”
Tom’s eyes raked over her body feeling himself get flustered by the way she was speaking to him. Tamar would be the death of him, the thing that commanded his soul into damnation. His soul would burn, but not before hers burned too. “The Lord does help us to realize our sins and repent,” he said. “Have you repented recently?” He asked her as his eyes trailed back up to hers.
She took a step forward, her perfume flooded his senses making his head feel full. She leaned in closer to his ear, “Oh yes, Father. I have repented on my knees every night since you led me to repent that day in the confessional.”
His cock grew hard immediately. She did it on purpose, she came into the confessional and confessed her sins on purpose. His hips etched into a seductive smile as his eyes scanned the room to make sure they were alone. “On your knees, you say? Well,” he let out a breath his eyes dropping to her lips. His hand moved forward, entangling in her hair at the back of her neck as he gripped and brought her closer. “Bad girls like you deserve to be punished, Miss Tamar.”
Her eyes widened in shock, a faint flush creeping up to her cheeks. She surveyed Tom carefully before speaking. “How do you plan on punishing me then, Tom?”
His hold tightened, and his azure eyes darkened with lust as he squeezed her neck. “Through lessons, Tamar. You have been very bad indeed and the Lord does not tolerate blasphemy or sinners,” he said. He brought her face close to his, his lips hovering above hers. He took his fingers and lifted her chin to meet her defiant eyes. His thumb trailed across her pink, full lips. “From now on, Tamar, you will refer to me as ‘my Lord’ and you shall be led into a series of repentance exercises in which you will repent to me and the Lord above.” His thumb pressed on her lips, watching how her own eyes were darkened, the ocean blue turned dark, murky, as she let out a sigh.
She looked so desperate, so willing to succumb – so willing to lean into his touch and press her lips on his. He noticed her chest rising slowly, her heart was beating so rapidly she felt like it would explode out of her chest. Tamar’s eyes fluttered shut, leaning into the hand that was pressed against her neck.
Tom licked his lips before dropping his head down and engulfing her mouth with his. The kiss was gentle, the brush of his lips against hers marking a promise. A promise that he would ruin her the way she had ruined him. He pulled away and brought his thumb across her cheek smirking at her. “You have been a very bad girl, Tamar,” he spoke. “Are you ready to be punished like the naughty girl you are?”
A whimper escaped her throat as she slowly nodded her head and if Tom could have swallowed the sound that escaped from her he would have. “Yes, my Lord.”
His voice dropped, so quiet that only she could hear as he leaned down to her ear. “Good fucking girl.” He roughly removed his hand from her neck and face as he took a step back. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, the lust that had once taken hold of him had vanished. “I’ll see you on Wednesday for your first lesson,” he said. He bowed his head and walked out of the room into the hallway that led to his office. For once, leaving her to ponder with the after-effects of his absence.
Chapter Text
Lesson 1
Wednesday came quicker than Tom had prepared himself. Normally, he felt his days drag on while he went to church. He loved his job, yet most days he struggled to get out of bed, especially after meeting Tamar.
He found that all his mind wanted to do was to think about her. His brain ran rampant with images of her, her black hair and full, plump lips looking up at him. He desired to lift her long skirt and run his hands along her thighs. How she would look with her sultry smile as he pushed her head down around his cock, watching her gag and choke on him as he fucked her throat.
He was going to punish her for everything she had done to him, and it started today. He was prepared to bring her down and make her suffer as a form of retribution. His excitement was so sweet he could practically taste it on his tongue.
Tom stretched as he rose from his bed, his muscles on his back flexing, looking no short of a Greek god. He grabbed the carafe from next to his bed and poured himself a glass of water. He drank with a sigh as he ran his left hand through his sable locks.
Upon pondering what he planned to do to her today, Tom drew himself a bath and sank into the warm water, letting the steam envelop his senses the way Tamar had.
He had woken up rock hard, and at this, he felt ashamed. He felt like he had when he was 13 and experiencing a change in emotions and feeling his first ever instances of sexual desire. How dare she make him feel so juvenile, so embarrassed?
His hard-on wouldn’t go away, and the excitement of what he planned to do to her was only making it worse. Tom began trailing his hand down his navel, reaching his hard, thick cock, as he gripped his penis in his hand. His hand traced up and down slowly, teasing the leaking tip. The thought of her bent over on a table for him had his cock weeping.
More thoughts ran through his mind. Images of her cunt, how pretty it would look wrapped around him. His hand began going up and down rapidly.
“Oh, Tamar,” he groaned as he pumped himself, cumming quickly. He opened his eyes to find himself sitting in the aftermath. Pathetic. He scrubbed himself raw with the washcloth he kept next to his bathtub, ensuring he got clean.
After bathing, he leaned in front of the small, poorly lit bathroom mirror and grabbed his straight razor. He shaved quickly, admiring himself in the mirror once he was done. He had to prepare himself for her today. She had always made herself look so perfect that he wondered how she would look unraveled for him.
On his walk to the church, Tom kept his head down, wanting to avoid eye contact with anyone. He wanted to be left alone as he planned how he would greet Tamar today. He wanted to make it symbolic, showing her that he knew it was her who had come those weeks ago, talking about masturbating to a man.
He’d take her into the confessional and punish her. Yes, he thought, this would be symbolic enough.
He approached the red brick stairs and began his ascent. He walked slowly, taking his time to savor the thoughts he had about Tamar. Tom would never admit this to her, but he found himself excited to punish her. The idea of sexual punishments turned him on, and he looked forward to punishing Tamar sexually.
.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.
He held his morning mass as usual, leading the churchgoers into prayer and helping them prepare for their day. Tom preferred the evening sermons more than the morning ones. Seeing the sunset outside the church and praying in the dim, candle-lit room would bring him comfort and ease his mind.
The slowest hours of the church were during the afternoon when most people would be working. Morning was busy because of the sermons, but evenings were the busiest of the three when people would attend after work before bedtime.
He had told Tamar to come during the afternoon when he would be guaranteed silence. Plus, even if people were going back and forth throughout the church, it wouldn’t bother him. He would make sure Tamar would keep extra quiet.
Tom was standing at his altar, cleaning around it, when he heard the doors open. He turned his head toward the light that had entered the building and found Tamar standing there. Her hair was swept up into a low bun, and her hands were clasped around a purse that she held in front of her. She was dressed in a knee-length, satin pink skirt with a matching satin blouse that had ruffled sleeves. Tamar looked stunning, Tom couldn’t help but realize.
She smiled slightly, a mysterious gleam in her eye as she walked past him and headed to the confessional room. Her perfume was trailing behind her in a cloud, and Tom felt himself being intoxicated by her scent.
Suddenly, Sister Beatrice entered the room and bowed her head towards Tom. “Beatrice,” he said as he took note of her. “I need you and the other nuns to come up with a list of songs for Sunday school. Please use the back office and put up the sign in front of the church that services other than the main room are temporarily closed.”
Sister Beatrice nodded her head and took her leave. Once Tom had heard the door shut behind her, he made his way into the confessional where Tamar sat waiting.
His hand immediately went to cover her mouth as he whispered to shush her. “Shh,” he said, “You don’t want the nuns to hear you. I have them working on an assignment, but if they hear any voices, then they will come down to investigate.” He removed his hand from her mouth and left a finger on her plump lips, slowly tracing the soft pink pillow. “You don’t want to get us in trouble, do you, Tamar?”
Her eyelids seemed heavy as she slowly blinked. She shook her head to tell him that she would stay quiet. “No, sir,” she whispered.
Tom took his hands and put them around her head, and he brought her closer to him. He pressed a chaste kiss on her forehead. Tom pulled away as he spoke, “Good girl.” Tamar looked at him, eager to please and not to make a sound, how unlike her.
Tom held Tamar in the small booth, towering over the girl who was sitting in front of him as he devised what he would do to her. “Tamar,” he whispered, “You have been very, very bad. Just this morning you caused me to sin,” he said as he leaned in closer to her ear. “I could almost feel your hands wrapped around me as I pumped myself dry.”
He was so close to her that his breath fanned down to her neck, causing the sensitive flesh to pebble. His eyes immediately drifted down to her pulse point. Tom licked his lips and dipped his head down to where her heart was hammering in her neck. His lips carefully reached the spot and sucked her pulse point between his teeth. Tamar let out a whimper, and her eyes fluttered shut.
Tom began humming as he licked and suckled at the sensitive spot. His hands began sliding down her shirt, grabbing her breasts. He gripped harshly before saying, “There is so much I want to do to you, you have no idea.” Tom yanked her blouse down and adjusted himself to grip her thigh as he tugged her bra. His head wasted no time in finding her pink nipple and biting. Tamar moaned at the contact, which aroused a hiss out of Tom. “Shhh,” he whispered as he continued lapping around her breast. “You have to be quiet if you want to get punished. Punishment means reward, you do want to be rewarded, don’t you?”
Tamar bit her lip, and Tom looked up at her, his blue eyes meeting hers. “Yes, sir.”
Tom’s reply came in actions instead of words as he slowly drifted down to her knees. “Open,” he demanded.
Tamar’s legs began shaking as she opened her legs for him. “Look at how good you behave for me,” he said with a sly smile. He lifted her skirt as he dove between her legs, his fingers tracing her sensitive clit. Tamar found herself slightly embarrassed to feel how his finger was sliding over the thin fabric. Her wetness was pooling between her thighs like she had never been touched before. Her breath hitched as his thumbs locked onto the waistband and began pulling her briefs down. He stopped and inhaled her in, inhaled the scent of her wetness and how his actions had made her react.
Tom knew the punishments he was going to deliver would cause her to feel the humiliation he felt. No matter how good it would feel for her to have him touch her or lick her, she would feel desperate. He kissed between her thighs and traced his lips up to her clit. His tongue gave one teasing stripe from bottom to top. Tamar let out a quiet moan.
Using her sound as encouragement, Tom began feasting. His tongue licked and sucked her clit, causing her to thrash as he played with her sensitive bud. She had never felt anything remotely good as this. Tom was being greedy, sucking and letting her fuck his tongue like never before.
Tom lifted his head from under her skirts as he took her in. Her breasts out of her bra, hair disheveled, and chest panting with her eyes closed. “Look at me,” he said. She couldn’t move; her body felt like it was lit aflame. Tom pinched her thigh lightly to grab her attention. She winced and opened her eyes to find his blue eyes looking black in the dimly lit confessional. “Your cunt tastes like heaven. It is the sin that has been forbidden to me, and I to you.”
He didn’t wait for a response as he dove back in and began lapping at her like never before. His fingers traced her entrance and edged their way in, thrusting to the spot inside her that had her toes curling in her shoes. She couldn’t keep her composure, and her sighs were getting breathier by the second. If Tom didn’t know better, he would assume she was going to come soon, and she was going to come on his tongue, letting him taste how he made her feel.
Tom’s fingers began pumping as he flattened his tongue and began moving his head up and down. Tamar slapped a hand against her mouth as the other grabbed at his head, fingers slipping due to the slippery fabric of her satin skirt.
Tamar’s eyes rolled back as Tom once more hit the spot inside of her, and she began seeing stars. “I’m…” She couldn’t even get her words out.
“Speak, Tamar,” Tom said muffled.
“Tom,” she sighed, “I think something is happening, I’m about to…”
Tom withdrew his tongue from her, but kept his fingers inside as he spoke. “Finish on my tongue, Tamar. But stay silent, God should not be hearing your pleasure.”
His tongue went back onto her clit and suckled it into his mouth, drawing little gasps from her mouth as her thighs tightened around his head and squeezed as she came. It was a perversion like no other to feel this much joy at her pleasure. Tom’s hand was absentmindedly palming himself through his pants, desperate for friction. Tamar’s punishment felt more like a blessing for him than something meant to contain her.
Tom couldn’t fathom why something so forbidden could feel this good for him, and as he licked up the juices flowing from her cunt, he felt like he was kneeling at a river of holy water. He had never tasted anything so good; he was possessed.
Tom understood then that her punishments could not end this way; he had to degrade her more, cause more havoc. He could not stay away.
He pulled away slowly, kissing her thighs as he exited between her legs. With smooth hands, he lifted the skirt over his head and looked at her. He found her looking as well, a slight blush coating her round face.
“Look at how bad of a girl you are,” Tom said. “You let me defile you with my tongue in a sacred spot, and yet were rewarded with finding your pleasure on my tongue. Do you see how God works, Tamar? Do you see how it is for me when my hand drifts down my pants in the middle of the day? When I look up to the sky, and feel myself betraying my Lord, and yet find completion. No other woman has done what you just did. How does that make you feel, my pet?”
Tamar’s brows furrowed, and Tom realized she must have begun feeling guilty. “Bad, Father Riddle.”
Tom’s lips etched slightly upward. “Bad, but you must feel good too, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Our Lord works in mysterious ways, and you must acknowledge that if you want to get better. Your punishments have only begun and will have you reformed. I will reform you so that you understand how terrible temptation is. So you can stop walking around with that stare that had me bewitched from the moment I saw you.” He hissed.
Tom slowly rose to his knees, rolling his head side to side. “Gather yourself, and leave. But not before you have prayed. Pray for repentance. Our Lord is kind; if you are truly sorry, he will forgive.”
With that statement, Tom ducked out of the room. He glanced down at his two fingers, which were still covered in her slick. He brought them to his lips, licking them, savoring the taste. He heard her near-silent Hail Marys as he crossed himself and left.
Chapter Text
Lesson 2
The following day, Tom was sitting in his office when he heard a knock on the door. It was a quarter past 1, and the church clergy would be having lunch soon. Tom cleared his voice to speak, finding it hoarse from the few hours he spent in silence. “Come in,” he said.
The door creaked open slowly, and Sister Beatrice entered his office. Tom sighed and forced his lips into a smile. “Hello, Sister Beatrice. How may I be of service?”
Sister Beatrice smiled softly. “Hello, Father Riddle. May I please sit down?”
Tom nodded his head and gestured toward the seat in front of his desk. “Yes, Sister. Come in, sit down.”
Beatrice walked in slowly, taking her time between shutting the door and walking to the brown chair facing his desk. She sat down, clenching her knees together. She looked nervous, as if she was afraid to be sitting ahead of the priest. Tom noticed her nerves immediately and decided to speak. “Is everything okay, Sister? Is there something troubling you? Lay your troubles onto the Lord and find that he will answer your prayers.”
In her lap, she was twisting her hands nervously, her eyes not leaving the skin she was currently picking off. However, at this statement, she looked up and let out a sigh before she slowly nodded her head. “Yes, Father. I came in to talk to you about something rather odd that I have noticed.”
Tom nodded his head at her words, “Yes, Sister, please let me carry your burdens as you speak.”
Beatrice sighed once more and looked up at Tom. Her face changed immediately from the shy demeanor she once had, and she gained a seriousness Tom had never seen from her before. “Father, excuse me for being direct, but is there something going on between you and one of our devotees?”
At her words, Tom’s eyebrows lifted to his forehead as he couldn’t contain his surprise. He was so surprised that he couldn’t fathom what she was going to lead with next. Before speaking, he let out a cough and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry?”
“Father, forgive me, but I have noticed a change in your behavior. Specifically, when a certain girl comes to church,” She said hesitantly. “She goes by the name Tamar. I do not want to pretend like you don’t know who I am talking about. I have noticed your glances at her during mass and other services, and it has become concerning for me and the sisters.”
Tom sighed and ran his hands through his hair. Had he been caught? He was certain he had been very calculated with his interactions with her. “Sister, I don’t mean to play the fool, but certainly you must be mistaken,” he said nervously.
Beatrice shook her head. “Father, I am not judging you. By no means will I judge someone who has been as faithful, patient, and giving as you,” She said breathily. “However, it is in my duty to warn you that others may not be so forgiving. It is essential for you, as a priest, to uphold the church to certain standards. Those standards include yourself,” she said, releasing a breath.
The role Tom had played in their church had been influential for the town. Families would thank him and the nuns for conducting such beautiful services every day, especially their Sunday communions. To say that Tom was respected would be an understatement. Tom held the community together, and if people began suspecting him of fornicating with a fellow churchgoer, the church’s, Tom’s, and the nun's reputations would be up in flames.
“Well, Sister,” Tom sighed. “I appreciate your concern; however, I must insist I have not acted upon what you have observed in any way. I take the church and our reputations very seriously, and how hypocritical of me would it be to disregard the gospel and spread hedonistic pleasures?”
Upon hearing Tom’s statement, Sister Beatrice seemed to relax, unbeknownst to her that Tom was lying through her teeth. However, her devotion to Tom lay strong. Its foundations are similar to those that led her to worship God. Tom relaxed as well, a small smirk attempting to creep upon his full lips in triumph.
She nodded her head. “Forgive me, Father.”
Tom waved a hand in dismissal. “Don’t mention it, Sister.” Sister Beatrice got up and pushed her chair as she began her walk towards Tom’s office door. He interrupted her. “Sister, please leave my door ajar. I have scheduled meetings with various people throughout the day.”
Per his request, Sister Beatrice left the door open and flipped the sign on it that allowed churchgoers to know that this was Father Tom’s office. She turned around, bowed her head, and walked out, the sound of her footsteps echoing down the hall.
Tom could overhear Sister Beatrice speaking with someone in the hallway. His breath hitched in his lungs, suspecting he knew who she was talking to. His suspicions were confirmed when the heels clacked towards his office door. A soft knock could be heard before a soft, feminine voice spoke. “May I come in, Father?”
Tom cleared his throat before he spoke. “Yes. Enter.”
In walked Tamar, looking like she always did, looking like the last piece of dessert that would tempt you to eat it. Tom took it that she was here for another lesson. “Was I interrupting something?” she said. “I noticed Sister Beatrice was leaving your office and was unsure whether I was welcome.”
“Nonsense, Tamar. You are always welcome here. In fact, you are right on time for your next lesson.”
Tamar had walked in and sat down in the chair that Sister Beatrice had sat in prior to her exit. Unconsciously, Tamar clenched her legs together with her knees tight. “What do you have prepared for me, Father?”
Tom got up from his desk and smoothly walked to the door. His long legs allowed him to reach the distance within three strides. He shut the door calmly, before locking it and walking to the great window he had across his desk. He pulled the blinds shut and turned to face Tamar. A mischievous glint lit up his eyes as he said, “Strip down to your underthings.”
It wasn’t a request; it was a demand, and Tamar had no choice but to obey. However, he noticed that she was hesitant, her hands shaking as she reached for the buttons on her blouse. Tom couldn’t help but wonder whether his lesson had worked. She was already showing restraint when it came to tempting him; surely his punishment had affected her.
She slowly unbuttoned her white blouse, looking into Riddle’s eyes as she did so. Tom held her gaze with utmost solemnity, refusing to give her even a smile. He would not let her see into him and see how he still hadn’t recovered from their last lesson.
Tom’s eyebrows raised slightly as she shrugged her shirt off and put her hands into her lap. “When I said strip, I meant your skirt comes off too.”
Tamar’s lip quivered, and she pulled down her skirt, watching it pool between her ankles. She carefully stepped over the silky fabric and stood in front of Tom—her breasts at eye level for him to witness everything.
A smirk painted Tom’s face. “Good,” he said, seeming happy with her obedience. “Tamar, would you please take off my belt for me?” The request Tom made had Tamar questioning what he planned to do to her today. Despite the ‘please’ he had thrown into his question, there was nothing kind about the way he was staring at her. Tom felt enthralled to see Tamar showing signs of fear. She felt so confident when he first met her, ready to seduce him, and yet now, she was slow in her movements, unsure about how to proceed with him.
Tamar looked up into his blue eyes and nodded her head as her nimble fingers reached for the belt. She stumbled with it, and the sound of metal clanging was heard softly throughout the room. She succeeded in her task, and as she went to hand it to him, his hand grabbed her wrist.
“Hold out your wrists for me, Tamar.”
Tom loosened his grip on her wrist, and she brought her other one up to lay out in front of him. He took the belt and looped it around her wrists, binding them together. Her pupils widened, darkening her eyes as she took in what was about to happen to her.
He was excited to deliver today's punishment; he had already planned out future lessons, but he needed to conduct this one today, so by the time next week came around, she would be ready for him.
Tom looked at her and opened his arms toward his table, “Bend over the desk, putting your arms ahead of your chest. I want to see your tits touching the table and your ass in the air for me,” he instructed.
Tamar walked a step to assume the position he had requested of her, and by the grace of the Lord, Tom had never seen something so exquisite. He would have preferred her to be fully naked, but if they were interrupted, it would have been too much hassle to find her brassier and her panties. Part of him also didn’t want to fully take away her dignity. His lesson would be slightly enough to where she got the message without being fully nude.
Tamar watched as Tom went around to where his cabinets were and pulled out a wooden paddle. The slight glimmer in her eye meant she knew what was coming, and she couldn’t stop it. Tom’s cock grew hard at the thought of it.
He walked up to her slowly, like a predator stalking its prey, and began rubbing the smooth, porcelain skin that was her behind. “Look at how beautiful you are bent over for me,” he murmured. “Your skin is going to look so good once I turn it all red.”
Tamar didn’t say a word as he reached out and slapped her buttocks softly, not hard enough to hurt but light enough that she felt a small tickle. Her mouth remained closed, and neither a word nor a moan came out of her mouth.
“You’re so quiet, hmm? You’re not going to be for much longer.” Tom took off his tie and walked towards the wall where Tamar was facing. “Open your mouth for me, Tamar.” Tamar looked up into Tom’s cold eyes and slightly parted her lips. “I am going to gag you, because your punishment is going to cause you to make noises that can only be heard by me. If at any point your moans become too loud, I am going to have to spank you harder and longer. Is that clear?”
Tamar slowly nodded her head, afraid to say anything. Tom took the tie and put it in her mouth, wrapping it around her head and tying it in the back. He resumed his position behind her and began caressing her soft skin. Her creamy skin was soft under his touch. He groped the skin of her behind, feeling it dimple to his fingers. Tom then lowered the paddle onto her skin, and the crack of it could be heard throughout the room. Tamar clenched herself against the hardwood of the table.
“That is one, for the first time I saw you, kneeling in the hall of my church.” A muffled whimper barely escaped her lips. The paddle reached her ass again, hitting the same cheek with further intensity. “Two, for how you looked in my direction and didn’t even acknowledge me.”
A sigh could be heard escaping Tamar’s mouth; she had taken Riddle’s instructions seriously, as she was keeping quiet. Another smack reverberated across the room; her ass was turning pink quickly. “Three, for how you walked right out of my church, leaving me to wonder if you were ever even there.”
By the fifth one, her left buttock had turned ruby red, and Tamar’s cries had been growing slightly louder with each smack. “Five, for how the thought of your presence had me stuffing my hand down my pants like a juvenile.”
Tom moved onto her right ass cheek and caressed it lightly, as a feather, preparing her for the punishment. His left hand had begun trailing its way down to where her clothed vulva was, circling her inner thighs predatorily. He laced a finger in the thin lace of her panties and kept it there while the paddle struck true.
Tamar’s ass was stinging, and her eyes were brimming with tears, but she was strong, Tom noticed. However, from her muffled cries and her actions, it was clear his punishment was working. Tom’s fingers gripped the scrappy lace and pulled it down to where her knees were. His fingers began tracing her clit, feeling his fingers slide from her wetness. “You’ve been a naughty girl, Tamar,” he said. “You’ve soaked through your panties from how hard Daddy has been spanking you.”
Tamar could hardly get out a muffled cry as Tom quickly sank his fingers inside her, not allowing her enough time to adjust to the long length. He began moving his fingers inside of her, curling them to read a spot that had her eyes rolling to the back of her head. “Eight,” he spanked again. “Eight, for being such a dirty whore that you get wet when I spank you.”
Tamar was struggling to resist the pleasure, as her hands were bound below her stomach and she couldn’t claw at anything. Her legs were shaking as her nipples grinded into the table, the sensation furthering the wetness between her legs. Tom took a break from spanking her, slapping her butt occasionally as he fingered her.
Her wetness was soaking his fingers, and Tom had to restrain himself from getting a taste. Her muffled cries were getting louder, and Tom was sure that if Sister Beatrice or one of the nuns walked past his office door, they would hear and would know exactly what was going on in his room.
He slapped her ass hard. “Quiet down! Don’t be a naughty girl, naughty girls get punished.”
Tamar instantly went quiet after that and nodded her head. Tom was surprised by how easy it was to make her obey, considering how tempting she had been in the beginning.
“Nine, for soaking through your panties.” Tamar’s breath had become rapid; she was struggling to hold onto the edge he had brought her to. Her orgasm had begun building in her belly because of how skilled Tom was with his fingers.
The spanks issued by Tom seemed to only be encouraging her further, causing her to reach her climax quicker. It was a shame she never learned how to properly obey Tom. As long as this behavior went on, her lessons would go on.
The final slap reverberated throughout the room as the wooden paddle reached down and made contact with her ass. “Ten, for being such a good girl that you’re going to finish on my fingers. While also being such a naughty girl that my spanking didn’t seem to teach you a lesson.”
Tamar tried to speak, muffling a word that sounded like “Please.” Tom was unsure whether she meant that the spanking had gotten too hard or whether she wanted to come.
His fingers continued curling and moving in and out of her while her cries became breathless, moans. Tom’s cock was leaking at the beautiful sight ahead of him, but he refused to give her the satisfaction of watching him crumble. Instead, his free had found its way to her clit and began rubbing it rapidly.
Tamar let out a loud moan and began rocking back onto his fingers as she climaxed all over him. Her juices began running down her legs as she squirted on him. The sounds of wet squelching echoed throughout the office. “That's it,” Tom encouraged her. “Come for me like the naughty slut you are.”
He drew out her climax, allowing her to have this liberation. He slapped her ass a final time before withdrawing his fingers from her and reaching toward the tie to untie it. She got up from the table, looking slightly humiliated.
“Look at me,” Tom demanded. Tamar met his eyes. He took note of how her cheeks were painted with a slight blush and how one side had turned red from being pushed up against his desk. Tom’s fingers traced her full lips. “Open.”
She opened her mouth for him, and he stuck his wet fingers inside. Tom smiled as her tongue swirled around the digits. “Do you see how good you taste? All of this just for me.”
Tamar nodded and spoke. “Only for you, Father.”
Chapter Text
Lesson 3
“On your knees, now,” He demanded, yanking Tamar by her hair. Tamar looked at Tom with an undecipherable expression. She looked unsure of what to do. Her head darted back to the entrance of the church – they were in the main room, and the altar was behind them.
“You can’t be serious,” Tamar replied. In the time that they had known each other, Tamar hadn’t disobeyed Tom’s orders. And yet Tom had a suspicion that she was afraid of how he would react; she feared he would retaliate badly, increasing the severity of her punishments. That much was present in her eyes.
Tom rolled his eyes and swiped his foot to the back of her knees, knocking her down. The sound of her knees hitting the ground made a soft thump. “Haven’t I told you? On your knees now, and get that pretty mouth open for me,” he said as his thumb trailed her lips and she looked up at him through her thick lashes.
The punishment had gone further than it had before; there was no more room for repentance as he began unbuckling his belt. The clicks made her nervous as she looked into his eyes and back down to the growing bulge in his pants.
Tom had failed to master his self-control over her. His lessons for her had backfired onto him, he supposed, because he had lost his patience and was driven to commit an act of heresy. He hadn’t viewed his punishments as sinful; he thought of them as retribution, but now, standing in the middle of the altar with the Lord watching over him and Tamar on her knees, he was quite unsure where he stood.
“Since when does it matter what you think?” Tom decided to goad her. “You have had no issue disobeying me and the church from the second you walked in here, and now is the time you decide to act all pious?”
Tamar’s lips, which were currently open, closed immediately. She took a breath before speaking. “I’m sorry, Father.”
Tom’s voice dropped to a growl. “Sorry isn’t enough. Pull my cock out of my pants and suck it.”
Tamar’s hands fumbled, but she reached down into Tom’s waistband. Suddenly, her actions were halted because of his voice. “You’re too slow,” Tom complained. With that, he pulled his cock out and brought it close to her lips. She already knew what to do, it seemed, because she stuck her tongue out and looked at him like she had never wanted anything more in her entire life than to wrap her lips around him and taste what his cock tasted like.
“Look at you,” he said sweetly, as he ran his fingers below her chin and lifted it to meet his gaze. “You look so perfect waiting for Daddy to give you his cock. Aren’t you stunning, my naughty little girl?” Tom was muttering, almost to himself.
Tamar just slowly nodded her head, her eyes sparkling with desire. He could bet that if he stuck his hand down her panties right now, he would have found them soaking wet, despite her earlier protests. That is what would happen to good cocksluts who wanted to please their master. He had gathered that much.
Tom fisted his thick length in his hands and brought it closer to her mouth. He began slapping his cock on her tongue, his eyes rolling back from the pleasure of her running her tongue on the underside of his tip.
He ran his hand through her hair and pulled her head closer, forcing her to swallow him. He bit his lip, feeling the pleasure of her warm mouth around him. A quick, “Fuck,” escaped his lips.
Her eyes bulged as she attempted to accommodate his length in her mouth; the sounds of her breathing through her nose filled the room as she tried not to gag. Tom’s interactions with Tamar had always made him feel taken by her. He kept telling himself he had never seen anything more beautiful, but that was before he had her on her knees, sucking his soul out of him.
Tom’s chest was rising and falling as the girl in front of him wrapped her lips around him and began moving. She hollowed out her cheeks and added a hand at the base to help cover the length her mouth couldn’t reach. He had to admit it to himself, Tamar was proficient with her sexual acts. She had taken his tongue and fingers so well that he wasn’t surprised she would know how to suck a man off very well, either.
Tamar’s head bobbed up and down slowly, causing Tom’s eyes to roll back to the back of his head. She was taking too long with her movements. It almost seemed like she wanted to torture him and instead make him beg for it. He knew this behavior wouldn’t do.
Tom was struggling to hold himself back and decided that if Tamar didn’t pick up the pace, he would force her to. Though her slow movements pleased him, it wasn’t enough. He needed her tears streaming down her face and her makeup to become ruined, allowing the true nature of his punishment to show.
He grabbed her head and pushed it down abruptly, causing Tamar to halt. A soft cry escaped her throat, and he noticed her eyes bulging as she choked on him. His cock was buried completely down her throat now, and she was struggling to hold back a gag.
“You’re such a good little slut,” Tom said as he ran a hand lazily through her hair, encouraging her to keep swallowing him. His eyes turned dark and lustful. “I want you to move your head up and down, or I will do it for you.”
Tamar’s blue eyes looked up at his face, and she blinked at him, acknowledging his demand. However, as she began moving her head quickly, Tom laughed and slapped her across her face. Tamar rapidly pulled away with a hiss.
She could barely get a word out because of how unexpected his slap was, but she remained silent, a hand softly finding its way to her red cheek.
Tom had slapped her to get her off him. He reached over to the altar beside him and grabbed a rosary. One of the nuns must have left it by mistake. Tom abruptly grabbed her arm and yanked her forward, causing her to get down on all fours. She looked like a dog begging at the feet of her master. He smiled as he put the red rosary around her neck. The cross hung between her breasts. He reached down and pulled open the buttons of her blouse, and began groping her tits as he slapped his cock across her face.
Tom ran a lazy finger across her nipples, pulling and pinching softly, causing Tamar to moan. He let go of his cock and slapped her again. “Who told you that you can moan?” He asked angrily and shoved his cock down her throat again.
Tamar seemed to be enjoying this; her face was already red from the slaps, but last time he spanked her, she was soaking wet. He knew that she would feel that way right now. Besides, it was her first time tasting him; why wouldn’t she feel that way?
She should feel honored to have his cock in her mouth; she came to please her master and learn her lesson. These lessons couldn’t only allow her to feel good, but they must allow Tom some pleasure as well. Which is why he began fucking her mouth viciously as he chased his pleasure.
Tamar’s throat spasming and constricting around him while she was struggling to hold in a gag had soft groans escaping from his own mouth. Her red lipstick was smudged all over her mouth and chin, and her saliva was dripping down her throat, covering her nipples with the sticky liquid. His fingers traced and smeared her saliva further, covering her breasts with it. The enhanced lubrication as he touched her nipples made her moan once again around his cock.
Deciding that having her moan for him was not how he intended this punishment to go, Tom’s hand wrapped around the rosary, tugging it. Tamar’s suction of him began getting breathy as he pulled. Her neck was turning red, as her face and his free hand had begun tapping her cheek. She regained her balance from before and put her hands around his thick thighs, gripping them violently as he fucked her face.
Tom was getting close to his orgasm, and the movements of his hips, thrusting into her mouth, had also begun getting choppy. Tamar’s mouth was making loud wet noises as she moved it across his cock. Her tongue was slurping and moving rapidly around the tip of his penis, simultaneously, as she was expanding her mouth to accommodate his size. The sounds were echoing throughout the empty church as she sat on her knees at the altar worshipping his cock.
Tom decided he wanted to make her feel ashamed for what she was doing. He grabbed her head between his hands and began roughly forcing his cock down her throat. Tamar was crying; his goal of making her makeup smudge had worked. There were now black tears streaming down her face, and her nails were digging through his trousers.
Tom’s final thrusts were hard, as his cock hit the back of her throat. Her discomfort brought him to his messy orgasm as he spilled his seed down her throat. Tamar’s cheeks filled to the brim with the salty liquid combined with her saliva. Her face had expanded, and her mouth was so full of both his cock and his seed. She looked up at him, seeking permission to spit it out.
“Don’t you dare spit it out, you dirty slut. Swallow it all,” Tom said angrily.
With that, Tamar’s eyebrows furrowed and her eyes closed as she swallowed. She swallowed every single drop like a good girl, though her face twisted as she cringed. If she was not enjoying this, she made it really hard for Tom to realize because the way she looked at him after he finished made him believe that she wanted more. That the orgasm he just had wasn’t enough for her and that she needed to feel his cock pulsing in her mouth again.
Tamar looked like a disaster. Her once perfectly styled hair was now ruined, and her makeup was all over the place. Her breasts were still wet with her saliva and the remnants of his cum that she couldn’t swallow. She sat there on her knees, looking at him, waiting for him to clean her up.
Tom reached over to the altar and grabbed a rag and a small bottle of holy water. He splashed the water on her breasts and her face, and then took the rag and began wiping up the mess she had made. The rag moved softly across her face, swooping under her eyes gently and cleaning up the smudged black tears and makeup. He was also careful when he dragged the rag on her breasts, making sure not to tease her sore nipples any further.
The silence between them was broken by Tamar, who decided to speak. “What are you doing?”
“I’m cleaning you up,” he said. “I can’t have you walking out of the church looking like this.”
She nodded her head. “Thank you, sir.”
He finished cleaning her up, neatly folding the rag and putting it back on the altar. His hand reached down to grab Tamar’s and lifted her off the ground. Tom’s nimble fingers also began buttoning her blouse, starting from the bottom and trailing up gently toward her neck. When he was finished, his hand reached up to her hair and began running through it so softly, it was hard to discern the Tom who was standing before her from the Tom who had been commanding her to swallow all of him.
For once more, Tamar’s expression was unreadable. He couldn’t tell what was swarming through her head. Tom decided that this was a good sign and that this lesson had brought Tamar closer to her repentance.
Tom cleared his throat and looked over Tamar’s shoulder to the door at the end of the hall. “You may leave,” he said.
Tamar looked behind her before turning her head back toward him. Her lip had the slightest quiver. “Father, won’t the nuns see me? Surely they heard what was going on.”
Tom laughed cruelly, his palm reaching up to cup her cheek and running his thumb over it. “There is no one in this church besides me and you.”
The look that crossed Tamar’s face looked like betrayal. However, she quickly schooled her emotions, nodded her head, and made her way out of the church. Her hands were rapidly dusting her skirt off. She did not cross herself as she left.