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Chapter One
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2025-03-16 21:28:06Father forgive me for I have sinned. Absolve me of my sins and grant me the strength for today’s work. Thank you, Father. Amen.
Tuning out the small voice of doubt, he touches the cool metal crucifix to his heart and then to his lips, making the cross sign. Then he latches his eyes open.
His palms are sweaty, he notes as his heart drums a harsh staccato in the confinement of his ribcage. Sweatier than they usually are whenever he goes for an exorcism, and in this cursed little town of Hapeville, they never run out of citizens who are possessed by lackluster demons. So why is he on edge this particular Monday morning? Why can’t he be the usually calm and collected priest who brought peace to the corrupted souls of his church members? Why is he so nervous that he has to pinch the bridge of his nose to hold back his nausea?
Right.
It isn’t just anybody who got possessed. It’s … God. He whispers, swiping his tongue over his top teeth. Only Father Khatri can make the embodiment of everything holy sound so sinful and dirty. But it isn’t his fault. Just a single thought of Matthew McPherson, Father Khatri nearly ejaculates down the leg of his trouser, his cock forgetting every single vow he took before he was ordained as a priest.
Unable to help himself, he hugs his dick with his hand, the black cassock covering it doing jack-shit to protect his dark secret…his shame.
Oh by everything holy, when did this all start? Khatri wonders, almost in pain as his cock throbs harder. A year ago, he was confident that he defeated temptation and was above the enticement of bodily pleasure until it came in the form of Matthew McPherson. The gangly boy was all limbs and shyness that made Khatri’s next words stuck in his throat as he strolled into the church, plaid shirt sticking to lean muscles, dark khaki pants that made the priest’s fingers itch with the need to peel them off him. Jesus. Khatri was appalled by his own thoughts but they won’t stop flooding his head as he stood on the pulpit, his stiff collar suddenly too stiff for him to breathe.
Nothing so pure…so perfect has ever graced Hapeville, not to talk of the crumbling church. But there he was in the flesh, sitting in the front row, watching Khatri with curious blue eyes, head tilted to the side, bottom lip snagged between pearly white teeth. A maddening urge to tug on the boy’s plump lower lip with his own teeth slammed into him, knocking the breath away from his lungs as his loins tightened. That night, after the service, Khatri stumbled to his office, fell to his knees and begged for forgiveness, cried to the lord to wash away this grime trying to stain his soul. But five minutes into the prayer, Khatri found that behind his closed eyes, all he could see was the boy’s plump lips taking him down his throat.
Goddam! He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, hoping to stop any other images from invading his mind.
Jesus. What was it about the boy that pushed his tightly pressed buttons? Khatri hadn’t felt as horny as this since he was fifteen, in catholic school.
Sighing, he dropped his hands from his face. And when he opened his eyes, they landed on the bible beside him. He sat up, bringing the bible with him and opened the bible verse he had recommended to countless people to battle the demon of lust. This was just a test, a temptation, he said to himself, eyes eating up the content of the pages.
But just as suddenly as the first time, an image of the boy lapping up a bead of precum on the bruise-colored tip of his cock flashed in his mind and it throbbed in response.
It was so unexpected that the rest of his body stiffened. When the image replayed in his head, and his cock throbbed again, he could feel the heat creeping up his body, even though no one else was in the room to see his shame. Maybe except God himself.
Khatri ran a hand through his hair, almost in tears as his dick had hardened painfully behind his zipper. With shaky hands, he reached down to adjust himself and without knowing, he opened the fly, but it didn’t do anything to relieve the throbbing pressure.
For the first time in years, Khatri closed his eyes and squeezed his cock over the top of his boxer briefs, and the shot of lust that ran through him had his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head.
Holy … fuck.
As he allowed himself to fantasize more, he grew harder beneath his hands. His dick was utterly aware of someone he barely knew, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Moving his hand up and down his covered cock, he struggled to breathe as the realization hit him full force. He was harder than he’d ever been and even though he wanted to blame what he was doing on a demon possessing him, that voice in his head knew exactly what was going down. Guilt and embarrassment collided with the heavy dose of sexual desire coursing through his veins, and he halted his hand. His breath came out in heavy pants, his mind divided.
Don’t worry. He’s not here. No one will ever know…
As if the devil was whispering in his ears, Khatri stopped thinking. Shoving his boxers down, he freed his cock and wrapped a hand around the hard length. He stroked down and then up, spreading the pre-cum from the head of his dick down his erection, giving him a smoother slide as he revisited his fantasy. In his mind, the boy looked straight into his eyes and licked his full red lips made for sucking cock and Khatri moaned out loud, his hips jerking up.
God, he never looked at any of his congregation’s mouth before but now all he could think of was how the boy’s lips would feel against his.
He imagined the boy’s voice, raspy and soft as he leaned in, jerking his cock. Then he’d whisper, “Fuck me, Father, For I had been a bad boy.”
That was all it took for his orgasm to come barreling to the surface, spilling over every surface in his room, the opened page of the bible, his chest, as his hand—the boy’s hand—milked every bit of cum out of him until he couldn’t open his eyes anymore.
That was the start of his obsession.
Khatri soon discovered that the boy’s family, consisting of a mother and an older sister, had just moved into town, shacking up in one of the houses on the outskirts. It made Khatri’s obsession easier. Every day, he found an excuse to pass by their front door, just to catch a glimpse of the boy that could be his downfall. A downfall that became more and more dangerously appealing with every passing day. Need him. I need him.
“Should I come with you, Father?” the assistant priest’s timid voice cuts into his thoughts and Khatri jolts upright with so much force as if he was in a trance.
“What?” he gasps, his brain trying to process where he is and what’s going on.
“I said," Should I come with you? " To the exorcism?”
Father Khatri blinks hard and then glances at his wristwatch and realizes the boy’s family is waiting for him.
Picking his bible, he shakes his head. “No, I’ve got this.”
As he leaves the church, Khatri knows he’s not returning home the same man.
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Khatri arrives at the Mchpherson house two hours after he left the church. The sun is already making a descent, painting the skies in beautiful hues of orange and pink. He could have arrived earlier if he had hitched a ride from any of the Bible-thumping followers of Christ who confess at the church every day and dive right into their sinuous ways, convinced God will always take them back with open arms.But he needs the walk and fresh air to keep his fraying self-control in some semblance of order. As he steps on the porch, a creak bounces off the peeling walls, loud enough to make him cringe as he’d wanted a few more minutes to mask his expressions and emotions. Yes, Khatri has to maintain his air of intrigue and detachment so nobody knows he’s been here, on this same spot too many times to count. Nights spent skulking in the shadows, mapping every creak of the floorboards, every turn of the hall that leads to him. His Matthew. That sharp guilt twists a hot knife deep into his che
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Shocked beyond words, Khatri staggers back, the crucifix slipping in his sweaty grip. “You what?” his voice cracks, faith now teetering on a precipice. Matthew's sobs grow even louder, tears streaking those flushed cheeks, trailing over that plump lower lip–the same lip Khatri had fantasized about for months. his hips kept bucking, grinding in the air against nothing. The boy is a vision and Khatri’s cock pulses, a traitor begging to be freed. but he shakes his head, trying to fucking fight it.“Please, Father…I can’t stop thinking about you—your hands, your mouth—every night, I touch myself while imagining it's you. And don’t think I don’t see you when you creep around our house every night too. You stand in that same spot but in my room, watching me while you think I’m asleep, jerking your cock over your cassock. Every night I hoped you’d peel back the covers I threw over myself and see for yourself that I’m awake and I need you just as badly as you need me. but you never do. So I
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Seeing that tight untouched dusky pink hole sends a zap of lust through Khatri and he can’t stop himself even if there’s a gun held to his head. He swipes his tongue over the sensitive patch of skin, once, twice, and fuck, the taste, it’s like a revelation. warm, musky, a sharp tang of sweat and skin that’s all Matthew, dark and forbidden, like licking the edge of damnation itself. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that…” Matthew gasps, rocking back into Khatri’s tongue as it plunges into his hole, fucking him with a slow, greedy thrust. That’s the sign Khatri needs to stop eating his boy’s ass because he needs to be buried deep inside him before either of them cums.Reluctantly, Khatri pulls away, giving it a few more licks before reaching blindly into his briefcase where he grabs the bottle of anointing oil. The irony isn’t lost on him as he pours it over his fingers, slicking them over Matthew’s ass before working a finger into him. The boy mewls, clenching around his fing
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Matthew has been smiling since he crawled out of bed and came to join his folks in the common room. Even as his mother shared the chores between him and his older sister, that smile on his face couldn’t be wiped out. And why should it?After all, last night was the fifth night in a row that his priest came for him and watched the show he put on. Even if he couldn’t see the priest’s expression, he’d felt the other man’s desire as though it was his and that’s why a satisfied grin tugged at his lips as he rinsed a plate under the pump.The cool water slipping through his fingers reminds him of him spilling over his own hands the other night as Khatri watched him. God, he couldn’t wait to do it again. Will the priest come inside his room after the world has gone to sleep or will he wait outside in the fields, by Matthew’s window? Matthew didn’t know which prospect excited him more. As his thoughts distract him even more, the plate he’s scrubbing slips from his and clatters onto the floor.
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Rebecca watches her brother as if she’s seeing him for the first time and she can tell something is wrong.Matthew has always been different; soft whereas other boys were rowdy and loud. Lost in his head where they brawled and lofted skirts. She never told anyone about the times she caught him sneaking her pink hair bows, tying them into his dark curls before running off to school. Or the night she woke up to the sound of him moaning in his sleep, and it was a boy’s name that slipped from his lips, his sheets kicked halfway off his bed, exposing that he’d been having a wet dream.She had kept that secret with her, vowing to take it to her grave because she hoped it was just a phase, and her brother would harden sooner or later into a 'normal' man.But it never happened. And this...this thing he had going on with Father Khatri. It was different...dangerous even.She had seen the way that priest looked at her brother. Father Khatri, a very handsome man with blonde hair and grey eyes tha
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Khatri feels like there’s a noose around his throat, where he stands before his congregation, the weight of their expectant gazes pressing in on him. The church is fuller than usual, every pew packed with faces familiar and some not, but all of them are anticipating one thing. His first baptism in three years of being the priest of this parish church. In bigger towns, baptisms weren’t such a big deal but in small towns like Hapeville, this might as well measure up to a world-stopping event like manna falling from heaven. They were all here to witness the cleansing and rebirth of lost souls, bringing them to Christ. Khatri can only imagine how scandalous it’ll be if they learn that their priest, just last night had fucked his boy on one of those pews, his cum streaking the shiny wood.He grips his bible so tightly his knuckles turn white while his other hand fiddles absently with the crucifix at his throat. He honestly wishes he didn’t have to do the baptism. Hell, he wishes he could a
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Every single person in the chapel turned their heads once the doors creaked open. Their eyes widened, and their knees pressed together, breaths hitched as if the holy spirit itself had brushed past their spine. but it wasn’t the lord who stepped in. It was Matthew.Sunlight pooled behind him like a spotlight from the heavens, but there was nothing divine about the way he looked. The pale lavender robe, nearly translucent under the morning light clung to his chest, defining the slight curves of his thighs and slim hips meant to be idolized. Even the golden crucifix around his neck nestled in the hollow of his throat in such a blasphemous manner.He was everything every single male in the congregation feared and secretly desired. Sexy, sinful, and somehow still unbearably pure. The choir faltered mid-hymn, and every male gaze in the pews, including the husbands of women who never missed bible study, gulped, and the stench of their arousal and sweat filled the air. Their wives noticed,
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Every single person in the chapel turned their heads once the doors creaked open. Their eyes widened, and their knees pressed together, breaths hitched as if the holy spirit itself had brushed past their spine. but it wasn’t the lord who stepped in. It was Matthew.Sunlight pooled behind him like a spotlight from the heavens, but there was nothing divine about the way he looked. The pale lavender robe, nearly translucent under the morning light clung to his chest, defining the slight curves of his thighs and slim hips meant to be idolized. Even the golden crucifix around his neck nestled in the hollow of his throat in such a blasphemous manner.He was everything every single male in the congregation feared and secretly desired. Sexy, sinful, and somehow still unbearably pure. The choir faltered mid-hymn, and every male gaze in the pews, including the husbands of women who never missed bible study, gulped, and the stench of their arousal and sweat filled the air. Their wives noticed,
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Sin That Binds Chapter Five
Three days have passed since the ‘exorcism’ and Matthew McPherson is finally free from that dank basement, back in the creaky little house on Hapeville’s edge. His mother is now convinced that he’s been ‘healed,’ and so she let him come back up.right now, the sun is dipping low, casting a faint glow through the dusty windows as he sweeps the floor alongside his older sister, Rebecca. She’s twenty years old, but looks so gaunt and hollowed-out from hunger she could have passed for a weird, wiry teenager. Her bony hands grip the broom like it’s all that’s holding her together and Matthew’s chest tightens with a familiar pang. Just two years back, their dad had smashed himself to pieces in a road accident, and their family lost everything from the fallout, including their Mother’s smile. She couldn’t pull two coins together after that, so they dragged what was left to this sleepy nowhere, chasing whispers of cheap land and quieter days.Matthew’s broom slows, dust swirling around his ba
Sin That Binds Chapter Four
Seeing that tight untouched dusky pink hole sends a zap of lust through Khatri and he can’t stop himself even if there’s a gun held to his head. He swipes his tongue over the sensitive patch of skin, once, twice, and fuck, the taste, it’s like a revelation. warm, musky, a sharp tang of sweat and skin that’s all Matthew, dark and forbidden, like licking the edge of damnation itself. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that…” Matthew gasps, rocking back into Khatri’s tongue as it plunges into his hole, fucking him with a slow, greedy thrust. That’s the sign Khatri needs to stop eating his boy’s ass because he needs to be buried deep inside him before either of them cums.Reluctantly, Khatri pulls away, giving it a few more licks before reaching blindly into his briefcase where he grabs the bottle of anointing oil. The irony isn’t lost on him as he pours it over his fingers, slicking them over Matthew’s ass before working a finger into him. The boy mewls, clenching around his fing
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Shocked beyond words, Khatri staggers back, the crucifix slipping in his sweaty grip. “You what?” his voice cracks, faith now teetering on a precipice. Matthew's sobs grow even louder, tears streaking those flushed cheeks, trailing over that plump lower lip–the same lip Khatri had fantasized about for months. his hips kept bucking, grinding in the air against nothing. The boy is a vision and Khatri’s cock pulses, a traitor begging to be freed. but he shakes his head, trying to fucking fight it.“Please, Father…I can’t stop thinking about you—your hands, your mouth—every night, I touch myself while imagining it's you. And don’t think I don’t see you when you creep around our house every night too. You stand in that same spot but in my room, watching me while you think I’m asleep, jerking your cock over your cassock. Every night I hoped you’d peel back the covers I threw over myself and see for yourself that I’m awake and I need you just as badly as you need me. but you never do. So I
Sin That Binds Chapter Two
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Sin That Binds Chapter One
Father forgive me for I have sinned. Absolve me of my sins and grant me the strength for today’s work. Thank you, Father. Amen.Tuning out the small voice of doubt, he touches the cool metal crucifix to his heart and then to his lips, making the cross sign. Then he latches his eyes open. His palms are sweaty, he notes as his heart drums a harsh staccato in the confinement of his ribcage. Sweatier than they usually are whenever he goes for an exorcism, and in this cursed little town of Hapeville, they never run out of citizens who are possessed by lackluster demons. So why is he on edge this particular Monday morning? Why can’t he be the usually calm and collected priest who brought peace to the corrupted souls of his church members? Why is he so nervous that he has to pinch the bridge of his nose to hold back his nausea? Right. It isn’t just anybody who got possessed. It’s … God. He whispers, swiping his tongue over his top teeth. Only Father Khatri can make the embodiment of every
