Good Little Catholic Girl

He may have claimed to be a godly man but I could see the devil in his eyes.

I grew up in mid San Francisco, Laurel Heights area where you, your neighbor and everyone you knew came from affluent catholic families. We were all named from the bible or from a saint. My brothers were named Isaac, John and Kilian and me as the only girl was named after the Saint Martyr Sarah. Like every kid, me and my three brothers went to private catholic schools. The boys would go down the road to the all boys school and I’d walk the extra few blocks to go to the all girl school.

If you’ve never been to a Catholic school I’ll give you a little insight. Our teachers are priests and nuns. Most of the Nuns, the Sisters are notorious for being broody and all around mean. One time I spoke out of turn and Sister Marie beat my knuckles so hard with her ruler my hand was swollen for a week. Our Fathers, our priest teachers tend to be blase and uninterested. Truly boring and usually so old. It’s very rare for teachers to change as well. My music teacher probably taught my mom music and even her mom. Catholic teachers stay for life and we rarely get a new one. Which is why going when we heard the rumor the summer before seventh year started that we would be getting a new mathematics teacher we were thrilled.

New teacher tended to mean a young teacher, probably right out of school and notorious for being nicer and more interesting then our old Fathers and Sisters. So of course we were excited and as the first few weeks of school started our excitement was well placed. Our new teacher, Father Patrick who said we can call him Pat, which to our twelve year old selves was so cool, was young for a priest probably in his mid to late thirties. He had such an exuberance and drive for teaching us he made it fun. We would play math games and he would teach us songs to help remember PEMDAS. Math was starting to become our favorite class.

Well school was going fine but then some turmoil started in my family. My mother and father fought all the time and soon she moved out and took only my youngest brother Kilian, leaving me and my two teen aged brothers living with my dad. If you know catholic families you know we don’t divorce, so mom had just moved to live separately which was a big gossip topic at church and within our community. My grades started to fall and my friends started to withdraw, not wanting to be pulled in the gossip mill which was my family at that point.

I was alone and because of which I was not doing well in school. Not only did I have no interest but also with my mother gone and my father working and taking care of us three, I had no support at home.

I remember the day Father Patrick asked me to stay after class. The day itself had started off hectic. My father had woken us up in a rush and I barely had time to pull on my uniform. My button up white shirt, plaid tie and matching plaid skirt. The skirt sat mid calf length but the moment me and my friends were far away enough from our houses we would roll up the hem so the skirt sat mid thigh. Such a young twelve year girl thing to do. Thinking the higher skirts would make us “trendier” and “cuter”. I didn’t have time to brush my long blonde hair so as I walked to school I braided it to get it out of my face. My friend let me borrow some mascara which was the most we could get away with at school when it came to make up.

By the time math rolled around it was the end of the day and I was tired and honestly not listening. The bell rang and I automatically started to pack up my things. “Ms. Quinn?…” My mind was elsewhere as I stifled a yawn. “Ms. Quin?…Sarah.” I looked up with surprise as Father Patrick’s large hand enveloped my shoulder. “Would you mind staying a little after class?” He asked. I nodded some as he walked back over to his desk and sat a top of it. Father Patrick was a tall man and he filled out his vestment well. Broad shoulders and a wide chest showing that he most likely worked out at home. He had short brown hair that was pushed back and dark eyes that were usually lit up with delight as he taught.

This time his eyes were dark. Something sat behind them that I couldn’t put my finger on. “I’ve noticed you’ve been falling behind in class.” He stated and I shrugged, an average pre-teen response when speaking about uncomfortable topics. “It has seemed difficult for you to focus and I’m worried. ” Father Patrick peered down at me as I sat in my desk, giving yet again another half-hearted shrug. “Sarah, if you don’t give me something I’m going to assume there’s no other reason besides you just not wanting to, and if that’s the case there will be a punishment.” He went silent again, giving me a last chance to save myself but me being the stubborn kid I was I just grunted, averting my gaze.

That’s when the atmosphere changed, it went cold in the room and I looked up as Father Pat was locking the door to our classroom and pulling the curtains closed so someone in the hallway couldn’t see in. This honestly didn’t raise any red flags, I was assuming he was about to smack my knuckles till they bled, so long cool Father Patrick. That was what I thought till he motioned for me to come to him.

I stood up and inched closer, my lips tilted down in a frown, not wanting to be hit but knowing it would probably be quick then we’d be done. “Across my knee, Sarah.” he commanded. My eyebrows knitted together in confusion, this was a punishment usually reserved for elementary school kids. But I suppose I was acting a little juvenile. “Pat…” I whined lightly but he tsked me quickly. “If you don’t have enough respect for me to tell me what’s wrong you’ll refer to me as Father.” He snapped and I nodded, head lowering in soft shame. “Make it quick…please Father.” I murmured. I only got a grunt in response as he grabbed my waist and pulled me over his black clad thighs.

I braced my arms against the edge of the desk but Father Patrick reached down and pulled them back behind my back. With one hand he held them firmly behind my back and the other rested on my thigh. I squirmed with slight discomfort but stopped as he gave my bare thigh a warning slap. “No squirming.” He all but growled. I gulped as my anxiety peaked, he did not sound happy at all. I felt his warm hand come to rest on where he had hit my thigh by the hem of my skirt and rub it softly. I took a deep breath in as his hand slid up, pushing my plaid skirt up over my ass. My face flushed as embarrassment flooded my body. He was looking at my undies!

I could swear I felt his eyes gazing across my taut behind, covered in white silk panties. Nothing too extra or my father would have called me a whore. I was a good catholic girl.

Father Patrick’s hand slid up under the edge of my panties and I stiffened. I was pretty sure we were not supposed to be touched on our bare skin there. “F-father?” I stuttered giving a tug of my wrists in his iron grip. He didn’t say anything but gave one of my butt cheeks a sharp pinch making me yelp. “No moving.” He reiterated.

His fingers then grabbed the upper hem of my panties and tugged them down. I felt them slid down my ass and down my legs. He crumpled them up in his hand and cleared his throat. “you’ve been a very bad girl Sarah. I’m going to punish you now. But I don’t want you disturbing the other teachers. So open your mouth.” Father Pat stated and I did as I was told, not expecting the panties to be shoved roughly into my small mouth. I coughed some around it and tried to say stop but with his hold he had on my wrists and how forcefully he pushed it into my mouth I couldn’t do anything.

I could smell the fragrance of my own bits in my mouth, could taste the slight saltiness from some drips of pee after not wiping enough. That’s when my eyes started to water as I realized I had no separation from Father Pat and my no no bits. I was scared, my wrists hurt and my mouth tasted bad. I tried to say “Please no!” but with my panties in my mouth it came out as muffled cries.

I swear I heard him snort in humor as his hand started to come down in painful smacks on my pre-pubescent behind. I let out soft cries and whimpers as my ass reddened with each slap and it grew more and more painful. At a certain point I started to squirm, trying to get away and that’s when the slaps stopped. “I said no moving…if you won’t listen I’ll have to make you listen. Make you behave.” He grunted. My fear spiked. Make me listen? He had already spanked me so hard I was choke sobbing on my own panties. I just wanted to go home, I felt my lesson was learned.

His warm hand rubbed on my red ass, not stopping my soft sobs. That’s when I felt something hard poking at my belly. As a catholic we didn’t get any sex education besides “Don’t do it” but I at least knew the difference between a girl and a boy’s no no space. At that age I didn’t know about the birds and the bees but I had definitely seen my brothers stuff after a shower once on accident and one time my father had ran out of his room naked to use the belt on my brother for being too loud on a work night. I didn’t know at that point they got hard and what that even meant.

I wiggled as the hard thing was still sticking up against my belly and Father Patrick grunted in soft pleasure. “You’re a bad girl aren’t you? A dirty little whore.” He leaned down to whisper in my ear. I shook my head frantically, muffled cries coming from my panty filled mouth. I had heard dad calling my mother that before she moved out and I knew it was a no good word. He tsked, sounding disappointed and his hand went to my neck, pulling off my tie then he went in for my shirt. He released my wrists for a quick minute to start to unbutton my shirt.

I saw the opening and yanked the panties from my mouth, darting out from his grasp. My shirt was more than half way open, my small trainer bra showing and my skirt was tucked up in the hem so my bits were all out. I wiped my face of tears and stumbled for moment, thinking to run for the door but just that moment of hesitation brought large hands over my mouth. Swiftly my shirt was yanked up and used to tie my hands behind my back. I went to yell out by a strong slap came clad down on my cheek. “Slut’s don’t speak until told so.” He gripped my chin and turned my head towards his. My eyes were wide and wet, my breathing hard and mixed with soft whimpers. When I looked up into his eyes I saw more than I should.

He may have claimed to be a godly man but you could see the devil in his eyes. Like a predator looking upon his prey he had an ultimate calmness about him as he slid his thumb in between my trembling lips. “Now look at me. You are a bad, dirty little girl. God doesn’t love bad girls. You know that right?” He asked and I gave a shaky nod. “Do you want God to love you?” Father Patrick asked and I felt my legs start to shake, of course I wanted God to love me. I was what I thought was a good Catholic girl but Father Patrick was a priest, and the ultimate connection to God besides the pope. If my priest said I was a bad I must have been? I had to do what he said, to be a good girl for god. “Good. And God likes it when women save their bodies for him, right?” He asked again and despite my fear I nodded. Because that’s what we were taught. Abstinence till marriage. Your body is for God and God only.

“And since your body is for God only, and I am God’s servant. A direct connection to God then your body is for me too. Since God speaks through me, I would know what he wants. Right?” His voice had calmed down some, like he was trying to talk it through with me as I stood their half nude with his thumb in my mouth. It did make sense though. Priest’s were the highest Catholic authority in the school and close to God.

At me agreeing he smirked some and steered me back to his desk which I fumbled towards as well, his hands now gripping my tied up arms. I wasn’t sure what to do but his logic was solid. He was right, I wanted God to love me.

Father Patrick picked my panties back up and stuck them in his pocket. “Now God loves a good little slut. Tell me you’re a good slut.” He stated, putting his hands on my shoulders and pushing me down to my knees. “Say it.” My bottom lip trembled some, not liking to say bad words but Father Pat was telling me so. “I’m a good s-slut.” I trembled over the words and he grinned but not in a happy type of way. I looked up at him as he moved his hips towards me and ground his hard on into my cheek through his pants. I looked uncomfortable but his hand grabbed my braids and held my head close.

He reached down with his free hand and yanked my trainer bra up above my breasts, showing off the soft pink budding mounds there. “Now open your mouth and ask me to please share my seed with you.” He looked down at me with humor present. I nipped my bottom lip but did as I was told. “Please F-father, would you share your seed with me?” I murmured then opened my mouth and stuck my tongue out, not sure what was about to happen.

Father Patrick released my hair and tugged down his pants to reveal a large thick cock. At that time I had no idea what was happening or what his erect penis meant but it stood there, some pre-cum dripping down it. I barely had a moment to register as he re-gripped my braids and shoved that large cock into my mouth.

My mouth felt like it couldn’t open wide enough, my jaw aching. He didn’t even wait for me to do anything, instead he pushed till I gagged and his cock pushed down into my small throat. A guttural groan came from Father Pat as his cock bulged in my elementary girl throat. I started to struggle as I choked, his cock cutting off my airway so I couldn’t even breath through my nose. With my wrists tied I could only struggle as he started to pull back and then thrust into my throat over and over.

“Fucking dirty little slut.” He huffed, starting to sound breathless as I struggled to pull back but he double fisted my hair, using my mouth and throat thoroughly. My vision started to go blurry from lack of oxygen, my instincts kicked in as my body tensed and loosened and tensed again as I struggled to breathe. Father Patrick moaned and then held my face tightly against his waist, his cock buried deep in my throat. I could feel his hairy balls against my chin as he pumped his cum down my throat. “Fuck, your throat is tight.” He hissed as my eyes started to close.

The last moment before I blacked out he pulled out of my throat and released my hair. I bent over coughing, having swallowed most of his seed but the rest dripped down my face and onto the floor as I coughed and breathed deeply, tears trickling out of my eyes.

“Did the little whore like that?” He asked as he put himself away. I could only respond with a soft cry which seemed to irritate him. Father Patrick grunted and grabbed my hair and shoved my face down and against his seed that I had coughed onto the floor. “Lick it up! Don’t you dare waste God’s gift!” He snapped. I cried softly and slowly licked up the remaining cum, gagging softly as I swallowed.

Father Patrick chuckled and let go of my hair. With that freedom I collapsed to the ground, limp as I cried. I felt his warm seed in my belly. I didn’t move as he removed my trainer bra and buttoned up my shirt and tugged down my skirt. “After I use you for God you’ll thank me. Remember this Sarah, you little whore. After I do what I want with you I want you to kneel with your arms behind your back and say “Thank you for letting me be your whore, Father.” He commanded. I heard him and tried to curl into a ball but he slapped my already bruised ass and I cried out, uncurling to slowly go on my knees. “Thank you for letting me be your w-whore, Father.” I whimpered and he ran his thumb across his cheek. “You’re welcome. Now go home and if you say a thing, you’ll go to hell, understand?” He asked. I nodded and stood up, shuffling to grab my things. I felt used and disgusting and my shirt kept rubbing against my nipples with no trainer bra, making them hard and visible through my white shirt.

I looked around for my undies and trainer bra but remembered Father Pat took them and I wasn’t going to ask him for them back. “See you tomorrow Sarah.” He stated as I all but ran out of the room. What had just happened? My throat hurt so bad and my tummy was full. I felt dirty and scared but I wanted god to love me. I wouldn’t say anything. I’d just go home, shower and go to bed. Hopefully wouldn’t see my dad, how would I be able to face him after seeing what was in a man’s pants and what it could do.

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