Excerpt for The Confessor - Chapter 1 of "The Devil's Work" by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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Fallon O’Shea

WARNING - this book contains sexually explicit scenes for readers 18+. If you are offended by acts of sexual pleasure/pain (inc. BDSM), the besmirching of religion, the defiling of sexy priests, or the occult and their practices, do not enter here, for this is The Devil's Work and it has only just begun...

Copyright © 2018 FALLON O’SHEA

All rights reserved.

This book and any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, writing under the pen name Fallon O’Shea, except in the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction – names, characters, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events, is purely coincidental and only intended to titillate.


The Confessor

Jacob O’Malley had heard the excuses before and no amount of prayers would save some of these people from themselves. It was the same with any congregation – there would be those who truly repented their sins, and then there were those who were destined to repeat their behaviour, the ones who sought absolution, only to do it all over again.

Twenty-first century Catholicism went light on its sinners, and he quietly wondered how they would be dealt with five hundred years ago when torture was common place.

‘You have to forgive me, father, I feel so guilty,’ said the lady from behind the confessional window lattice who he guessed to be Linda O’Neill from her voice, the local busy body.

‘Seven hail Mary’s, may the lord go with you,’ he replied, in a monotone voice.

‘Thank you, Father.’

He heard the confessional door open and close, then let out an exhausted sigh. Ten years ago, when he was a young man in the Irish countryside, he was so sure this was what he wanted – to be a servant of Christ in the Catholic church and to have his own congregation. Now at age thirty-two, he was beginning to doubt himself and the choice he had made because life had become so boring.

It had been three weeks since he arrived at the small countryside church of Saint Marys in Kinmore, in the Galway County, and already he felt restless, as it was a small agricultural village and he felt certain the Abbott had sent him here to teach him a lesson. He just hadn’t figured out what that lesson was yet but surely it would reveal itself eventually.

‘What’s wrong with me today?’ he asked himself, and shook his head, unimpressed with his lack of focus.

He shook off the restless sensation burning in his heart and took a deep breath. It had been a long day and he had heard too many hum-drum confessions, that’s all it was.

He glanced at his watch – it was almost six in the evening. He made to stand up, with a mind to head back to the cottage to take a shower, when he heard the creak of the confessional booth door.

He unlatched the window to expose the lattice, and on the other side, he could see the shadow of a person kneeling at the window.

‘Bless me father, for I have sinned,’ sung the melodic voice of a woman.

Jacob sat up straighter, suddenly feeling wide awake and focused. The scent of jasmine wafted to his nose and he involuntarily inhaled her delightful scent.

‘It’s been three years since my last confession.’

‘Welcome home, child of God,’ Jacob said, tentatively.

The woman was silent for a moment and Jacob listened intently to the soft sound of her breath.

‘Thank you, Father,’ she whispered.

‘Why have you come today, child?’ he asked, though his tone was more curious than usual. There was a lilt in her voice he found utterly captivating.

‘I’ve had some feelings, some stirrings if you will.’

‘Oh,’ he said, and leant closer to the window, as though she drew him in.

‘I’ve had sinful thoughts of a man I can’t have but I just can’t stop. I think about his lips and how I want to kiss them, and I’ve had… carnal thoughts about his body and what he might do to mine.’

Jacob held his breath and listened to every beautifully formed word that fell from her lips like the singing of an angel even though her words were filled with sin.

He cleared his throat, ‘have you had thoughts like this before?’

‘Only for the past three weeks.’

‘And have you acted on them?’ he asked, hesitantly – he had arrived three weeks ago and thought that odd.

‘I have pleasured myself with my own hands with the thought of him doing things, wicked things to my body.’

The thought of a slender manicured hand slipping beneath the folds of a dress appeared in Jacob’s mind and heat rushed to his groin. He let out a steadying breath to calm himself. It was not the first time he had heard confessions of a sexual nature but it was the first time he had been aroused by them.

She pressed against the lattice separating them and Jacob caught sight of her full red lips glistening in the small sliver of light streaming through the air vents above his head.

‘Do you think I’m going to hell for my burning desire?’ she breathed through the window. ‘Will I be condemned for wanting him to tie me up and run his tongue over every inch of my flesh?’

Blood rushed to his crotch and he swallowed hard. He placed his hands on his lap and felt the hardness between his legs while he fingered his rosary beads nervously. Ashamed of the throbbing shaft beneath his hands, he fought against his swelling desire and thought of his God and saviour.

Through the shame gripping him, he stammered, ‘of course, not. Not if you are truly repentant. God forgives even the most wicked of thoughts if one is truly remorseful.’

She inhaled slowly as though she were savouring the moment. His eyes darted to her quivering bottom lip.

His erection twitched. He begged his lord for forgiveness.

He looked away, ashamed of himself for his unexpected arousal at the lips of this confessor.

She placed her creamy slender hand on the lattice that separated them.

‘I’m not sorry, it feels so good,’ she whispered.

He furrowed his brow, confused, ‘then why are you here?’

She bit her lip and smiled, ‘because you’ve led me to temptation, Jacob O’Malley. A priest should not look as tasty as you, what’s a woman to do but desire you?’

His dick throbbed and he opened his mouth in shock.

The confessional door opened and closed and he heard her hurried footsteps race through the church. The closing door echoed across the vaulted ceiling.

Jacob sat in the confessional box for some time, trying to understand what had happened and praying to God for forgiveness. When his erection settled, he locked the church doors and headed through the garden to his cottage at the rear of the church grounds. It was a pleasant walk under the falling light of day and he breathed deeply the scent of the spring flowers along the pathway. The thought of his hot tongue sliding over the confessor’s creamy flesh flashed into his mind.

‘No,’ he said through gritted teeth and pushed the tempting thoughts away.

He walked faster, as though he might be able to out run his rising desires, and when he stepped onto the porch of the cottage, he said a quick prayer. His first thought was of dinner when he entered the foyer and the aroma of a roast greeted him.

His housekeeper, Mrs Kilroy, poked her head out the kitchen door, ‘how was your day, Father O’Malley?’

You led me to temptation, the wet red lips of the confessor spoke the words to his mind.

‘Fine, fine, another fine day in Kinmore. Something smells delicious.’

‘Roast chicken, hope that’s to your liking.’


‘It’ll be another half hour, though.’

‘Alright, I’ll go wash up.’

He made his way up the narrow cottage stairway to the first floor and headed to the bathroom. He undressed and stared at himself in the mirror. He was in fine shape. His well-defined and broad shoulders complimented his taught six foot one frame. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and leant closer to the mirror.

He stared into his pale blue eyes. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, Jacob O’Malley, you’re a servant of God and she’s a lost soul in need of guidance.’

The hot water steamed and ran over his shoulders and back, relaxing his muscles. Jacob let out a long sigh. He squirted shower gel on his palm and rubbed it over his chest and belly enjoying the fresh fragrance. However much he fought it, his mind kept turning back to the confessors slender hands and her ruby red lips glistening as she confessed her sin to him. He wondered what would possess a woman to approach a man of God in such a provocative way.

His hand moved over his belly to his pubic hair and his pelvic muscles tightened. He inhaled sharply when his slippery hand touched his penis. It had been a long time since his last release and tingling desire rushed to his groin. He closed his eyes and his thoughts drifted.

The confessor lay upon sheets of crisp white. A large golden crucifix hung over the bed, looming over the woman’s supple half naked body. Her hands caressed her fleshy breasts, softly running her fingers around the curves of each one. She pinched a pink nipple and inhaled. Her hand crept over her stomach and she bit her lip when it slipped beneath her underwear.

Lead me to temptation, Jacob,’ she breathed, desperately. He could see the moist patch of her arousal on her white panties when she parted her legs.

His lubricated hand moved down his hardening shaft and he moaned softly. The rushing water played over his skin.

He stood at the foot of the bed watching her hand move back and forth over her mound. He knelt before her, ready to pray at the temple of her divine womanhood. He slipped her underwear off, revealing her clean shaven mound. He gripped her ankles and spread her legs. His cock throbbed at the sight of her tight pink slit that beckoned him to devote his life to its pleasure.

He gripped his hard cock and stroked it rhythmically. The water gushed over his tingling skin.

Her middle finger slipped over her clitoris and penetrated her slit. He bit his bottom lip in anticipation of tasting her juices. Her finger slipped in and out of her pussy and she moaned. Her fingers circled her clit and she rubbed it hard.

He kissed her inner thighs and she groaned. He nibbled her flesh and felt the heat rising from between her legs.

He squirted more shower gel on his hand and slid it over his shaft and squeezed the head of his cock. He stroked and pulled at his tightening balls.

His mouth found her clit – it was engorged and throbbing. His strong tongue flicked the bud repeatedly and she writhed on the bed. He slipped his middle finger into her pussy. She eagerly received him and it slid with ease into her wetness.

His finger slid back and forth. He sucked her clit and his keen tongue flicked the swelled bud.

Lead me to temptation, Jacob,’ she moaned.

He pushed three fingers inside her and she cried out with pleasure. He slammed his fingers in and out of her pussy while his tongue worked furiously on her clit.

Yes, Jacob, YES!’

He pumped his cock harder and faster, his slippery hand taking the full length of his hardness. ‘Oh, god, yeah, cum on my face.’ He tightened his grip and worked the shaft and head of his throbbing cock, and his pleasure rose.

At his command, her body convulsed and her pussy muscles tightened around his fingers. The crucifix above the bed erupted in flames. She cried out and arched her back when the orgasm gripped her.

Jacob let out a strangled cry and pumped his cock harder and faster.

‘Ah, god, ah, god,’ he grunted, repeatedly, when the rising sensation overcame him. An intense orgasm washed over him and his body buckled. His ejaculation squirted against the shower tiles and his body jerked with each stroke of his hand. He leant against the shower tiles, caressing his cock gently, and panted hard. He squeezed each drop of cum from his cock, savouring the forbidden pleasure of the flesh he denied himself.

When he towelled himself off, he wiped the fog off the mirror to examine himself again.

‘What were you thinking?’ he said to himself, pained. He was a man of God and had sinfully pleasured himself with thought of a confessor.

In the mirror behind him, he imagined a world of fire swallowing him and the moaning of sinful souls filled his mind.

‘God, forgive my sins. I’m a terrible weak man.’

He wrapped the towel around his waist and went to his bedroom wardrobe. From the top shelf he grabbed a thin stick of birch wood. It had been a long time since he needed this. Not since his days at university had he the need to punish himself for his sinful desires for the flesh of women. Truly they were the work of the devil, tempting even the purest hearts to commit wicked acts. He flexed the birch wood and it bowed.

He raised the birch and struck down on his back – hard. He winced. The stinging whip of the birch wood would redeem him in the eyes of God.

He struck harder. ‘Bless me, father, for I have sinned.’

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