The Reverend And His Plaything

Chapter One. Mia pov.

The ride from the city to San Malerio was long and bumpy, but I didn't mind much. I was just glad to be getting away. My phone buzzed a few times in my pocket during the trip, but I ignored it. I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone-not after everything that happened to me. Getting cheated by my boyfriend because I refused to let him have my virginity.

When the car finally pulled up in front of Grandma's house, I felt this weird mix of relief and nerves. The place was huge, almost intimidating. A little too quiet, too still. Not like the noisy city I'd left behind.

"Here we are, ma'am," the driver said as he stepped out of the car.

I followed him, stretching my legs. He walked to the back and opened the trunk, then started hauling my suitcases out like they weighed nothing.

"Hope you can manage the rest from here."

"Yes, sir. I've got it. Thank you," I said quickly, grabbing one of the bags. I hated people fussing over me.

He nodded and got back in his car without another word. I stood there for a moment, looking at the front door, then at the bags. Great. Two hands, three suitcases.

Just as I bent to grab the second one, I heard it.

"Mia!"

I looked up, and there she was-Grandma. Walking fast for her age, arms already outstretched like she was going to crush me in a hug.

"Grandma!" I shouted back, dropping everything and running to her.

She pulled me into a tight hug, her hands patting my back, her perfume filling my nose. That scent hadn't changed. It smelled like home.

"I missed you so much," I mumbled into her shoulder, planting kisses on her cheek like I used to as a little girl.

"Silly girl," she said, tapping me on the arm.

"Ow! Grandma!" I winced, rubbing the spot with a pout. "Why'd you hit me?"

She narrowed her eyes, mock-annoyed. "If I didn't beg your parents to let you come, you'd never have bothered. And now you're here saying you missed me?" She scoffed and turned her head like she was offended.

I groaned. "I did miss you. You know how life gets. School, and stuff..."

"And when your grandfather died?" she snapped, hand on her hip. "Too busy then, too?"

I swallowed and looked down. That one stung a bit.

"Okay, fine," I said, lifting my hands in surrender. "I messed up. Can you forgive me, please?" I gave a dramatic bow, hoping to win her over.

She tried to keep a straight face but then burst out laughing.

"That's more like it," I said as she chuckled.

"Come on. Let me be your husband, your granddaughter, your everything, huh?"

I laughed, wrapping my arm around her as I pulled one of the suitcases behind me.

"Deal." she said sharply.

We walked into the house together. It felt surreal. Like stepping back into a memory. The smell of baked bread and old wood hit me first. The hallway still had that same faded wallpaper and the same picture of Grandpa above the side table.

"You didn't change anything," I said, glancing around.

"Nope," she replied simply. "I like it the way it is."

I know it's different from how it used to be when you were little," Grandma said, stepping into the room with me. "But you can take your time to arrange it the way you like."

I nodded, dragging my suitcase in. The silence between us stretched for a few seconds. It was comfortable, but something in my chest still felt heavy.

Then, Grandma spoke again. "I signed us both up for volunteer work at the church."

I blinked. "What?"

"I knew you were coming today, so I figured tomorrow's perfect. I'll take you there, and you can meet our new Reverend Father. He's so handsome, and young too. And do you know what..." she trailed off, smirking.

I tilted my head. "What?"

"If he wasn't a reverend, I'm sure half the young girls in town would be circling around him like bees," she giggled.

"And you, Grandma?" I asked, raising a brow. "Would you be circling too?"

"Crazy girl!" she hissed, narrowing her eyes and pretending to look offended.

I laughed, shaking my head.

"Anyway, the church work... it'll be good for you," she said, her tone turning serious. "Keep your mind busy."

I sighed. "Volunteering at a church wasn't exactly what I had in mind, Grandma."

She raised an eyebrow. "And what was in your mind? Sitting here crying over your boyfriend who cheated on you?"

That shut me up real quick.

I pointed a shaky finger at her. "Mother told you, didn't she?"

"That mother of yours tells me everything," Grandma said, smirking. "That's why she's my daughter. And you? I expect the same from you, too."

I rolled my eyes but smiled a little.

"Just think of this as something new," she added gently. "A fresh start."

I nodded slowly. "Okay."

Fresh start. I wasn't sure if I believed in those anymore. But if anyone could pull me into one, it was her.

And maybe... maybe this old town still had something waiting for me.

Something-or someone-I wasn't ready for.

"Dear, quickly take your bath and come help me in the kitchen," Grandma said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"What? Ow!" I cried out playfully, dragging my feet" I was hoping I'd come out and smell food already cooking. You know-sit like the grown daughter I am and just... eat."

"Stop being silly, Mia. Unless you want me to find my big spoon," she warned, narrowing her eyes. "Your mother must've skipped telling you how disciplined I was with her."

"Grandma, you know how my mom is. She never stops talking about it," I said, grinning. "But, Grandma... this is the new generation. The 21st century. Nobody hits kids anymore."

"Well, watch me bring it back into style," she said with a chuckle.

She started to walk off, then paused and turned again.

"Oh-and pick out a nice dress, okay? Nothing too exposed. I don't want any church member looking at you like that."

She walked away before I could protest.

I groaned. "Damn it. Who even cares what anyone wears these days..."

‼️Warning...This chapter contains explicit content, graphic sexual scenes, and dark psychological themes. Reader discretion is strongly advised.‼️

Chapter 2. – Thorne's POV.

"Fuck... fuck... fuck me harder, Reverend... please..."

Her voice cracked as she cried out again, clawing at the wooden table like she was about to tear it apart. Her ass was up, back arched, her whole body trembling under me as I drove into her without mercy. My cock was buried so deep inside her pussy I could feel her walls choking me, clenching like her body couldn't decide whether to push me out or beg me deeper.

I grunted, teeth gritted, sweat dripping from my jaw as I pinned her down harder. "You want to cum that bad, huh?" I growled against her ear. "You crying now? You think that'll make me let you?"

She sobbed loud, desperate, wild. It wasn't tears of pain. No, it was the kind of cry that came from the gut. A woman who couldn't hold in the mess I made of her anymore.

"I want to fucking cum," she begged. "I....please, Reverend, I c-can't hold it..."

She sounded like she was dying. Shaking like she'd break into pieces if I pulled out. But I didn't. I slammed into her harder instead, her tight little hole swallowing me all over again like it was made for me.

"Don't you fucking cum," I growled in her ear, dragging her head back by her hair. I wanted her to look at me-see what the fuck she turned me into. "You cum without my permission and I'll leave you here dripping and aching till Sunday."

Her eyes found mine wet, blurred, barely open but she nodded like a good girl. Her mouth opened just enough to whimper, and that's when I spat right in her face.

"Dirty fucking girl," I muttered, watching the spit drip down her cheek. "You come to God's house with your tight little dress, thinking I won't notice? You think I didn't know what you were doing all along, Kameeli?"

She didn't answer. Couldn't.

Her moans came louder now, faster. Her hands were trembling on the table, her pussy clenching on my cock like it was fighting its own will. And God, she felt so fucking sweet. I couldn't stop myself I buried my face in her neck, still thrusting rough, fast, filthy.

"You're all the same," I muttered between thrusts. "Every last one of you. Pretend innocence. But your cunt gives you away. Every single time."

I yanked out of her with a wet, aching sound, and grabbed her by the wrist. "Get up!"

She obeyed fast..so fucking fast it pissed me off and turned me on at the same time. That desperate look in her eyes, the way she followed without question. She belonged to me now. She fucking knew it.

I dragged her to the leather chair near the window, the same chair I sat in every time I prepared for Sunday's sermon.

"Hands on the chair," I ordered, voice low and cold.

"Yes, please, Reverend..." she whispered, her voice cracking at the end.

Her fingers gripped the top of the chair like it was all she had left. I took a step back, eyes devouring her naked frame. Her skin was red where I'd held her down. Her thighs were still glistening.

I lifted one of her legs and placed her foot up on the cushion. The other leg I kicked wider, spreading her open until I could see every bit of her slick, needy pussy.

"Keep them open," I snapped.

She nodded fast, hands trembling, body shaking. She was still trying to hold her orgasm. Good fucking girl.

I knelt in front of her, eyes locked on that soaked pussy. "Look at this," I muttered, dragging two fingers between her folds. "Dripping like a fucking whore."

Her head dropped back with a loud whimper, her body jerking at the touch.

"You wanna cum so bad you can't breathe, huh?" I asked, slowly circling her clit. "Say it."

"Yes," she cried. "Please... I'll do anything, Reverend."

That did something to me. The way she said it. The way she looked like she meant it. Like I was the only man left in her world.

I stood back up and shoved my cock back inside her, one brutal thrust.

She screamed. Loud. Real. Her head dropped, her hands slipping on the chair.

I grabbed her throat. "Don't fall."

She whimpered something I couldn't hear. I didn't care. I just kept moving. Hard, deep, ruthless strokes. My grip on her neck tightened-not enough to stop her breath, just enough to remind her who the fuck she was giving herself to.

I was close. Too close.

"Say my name," I hissed into her mouth, panting. "Say it while I ruin you."

"Thorne..." she sobbed. "Please..."

"FUCK Me HARDER. HARDER! HARDER PLEASE... fuck you're so fucking thick! You're fucking splitting me apart... goshhh!"

I didn't say anything. Just watched her fall apart in front of me, still shaking, still trying not to cum.

She was beautiful. Broken, twisted, drowning in guilt, but beautiful. They all were. That's why I picked them.

But Kameeli?

She's fucking married. A whole damn husband somewhere out there, probably thinking his sweet little wife's at choir practice. What a joke. Most of them were married. Dirty, lying, unfaithful holes. Spreading their legs for salvation and moaning like they're being baptized.

"Fuck... shit... goddamn it," I growled, holding her waist tight, grinding deeper into her soaked pussy. I wasn't letting this go. Not yet. Not until I emptied every ounce of myself inside her.

"Reverend... fuck... you're fucking huge... shit, I could fucking feel you in my stomach... " she cried, voice hoarse and raw, her face buried into the chair cushion.

That's when I shoved a finger deep into her ass-slow at first, then rougher. My cock was still thrusting into her drenched pussy, but now her whole body jerked with every movement.

She screamed. Loud. Real.

Her ass was placed high... as my cock slammed into her harder. My finger curled deep in her tight back hole. The chair legs scraped against the floor from the force.

I didn't stop. Not even when she started shaking.

I grabbed her by the arms, yanked her up, and kicked the chair aside like it offended me. "On the floor. Now. Spread those fucking legs."

She dropped fast-like she was made to obey. Her knees hit the cold tiles, then her back. She opened those thighs wide, her pussy glistening and twitching. My cock was still dripping, hard, angry.

I stood over her for a second, staring down. My chest heaved.

Then I dropped to my knees between her legs and leaned over her mouth.

Her eyes widened the second she saw my cock-veins thick, precum already leaking from the tip. Her lips parted like instinct.

"You want this?" I asked low, dark, breathless.

"Yes... yes... yes, please..." she cracked out, her voice already broken.

I didn't wait.

I grabbed her chin, tilted her head back, and rubbed the head of my cock all over her flushed face-across her cheeks, her lips, her nose. She was soaked in it. My scent. Her sin. My precum. I wanted her to taste it. Smell it. Remember who ruined her.

Then I pushed into her mouth-slow at first, letting her gag on the stretch, her lips parting around me.

She gagged. Coughed. Choked.

But she didn't stop.

I held her head tight and started thrusting back and forth, in and out. Her hands clawed at my thighs, her cries muffled around my cock. Her eyes teared up, mascara smeared, spit pooling at the corners of her lips.

"Take it," I hissed, fucking her mouth with ruthless strokes. "Don't you dare pull away."

She squirmed under me, gasping through her nose, eyes locked on mine like she knew she was owned.

And then I came.

Hot. Thick. Full.

I didn't pull out. I held her there, my cock pulsing inside her throat, emptying everything I had down her throat.

She swallowed all of it.

When I finally let go, she gasped for air, chest heaving, tears running down her face..but her mouth stayed open, waiting for more.

I looked at her.

This wasn't just lust.

And I fucking wasn't done. Immediately I stood up and went back to the chair. Sat down, my legs stretched widely.. my cock still hard but I had to stop.

"Come on. Get up," I commanded.

"Oh why, Father? I thought we'd be staying a little longer..." she pouted.

"Not today, Kameeli. I have night mass. There's no way I'll be fucking you till then. Now get dressed."

She stood immediately, slipping back into her clothes without saying a word. Then she walked over to me-slow, deliberate. She leaned down, her face just inches from mine.

"Will I be getting more of your cock later...?" she whispered, teasing.

"We'll see about that," I said coldly..

She smirked and walked out, hips swaying like she knew exactly what she'd left me thinking about.

Chapter 3 – Thorne's POV.

The Next Day

The morning sunlight creeping through the stained glass windows didn't feel holy-it burned. Like judgment. Like God Himself was watching and keeping count.

But I knew better.

God stopped watching me a long time ago.

I sat in the wooden chair behind my desk, shirt still half-buttoned, collar open. My hands rested on the arms of the chair like a king overseeing his own ruin.

The church was quiet now. Clean. Holy.

Just how they liked it.

They had no idea what this altar had seen. What these pews had heard. What my office had swallowed whole.

San Malerio. A quiet town on the edge of the Italian countryside. Small. Closed off. Old souls and young married bodies with nowhere else to pour their boredom but into the arms of God-or into the hands of the man they thought spoke for Him.

Me.

They called me Father Thorne Maddox. Reverend. Shepherd. Servant of the Word.

But I was far from holy.

I'd been transferred here a few months ago-on paper, it was a promotion. A gift. But we all knew the Church doesn't give gifts. They move problems.

They didn't say it, but they knew what I was.

And this place?

This place welcomed me with open legs.

The church was full every Sunday. The old came for routine. The young came for curiosity. The rich showed up when their conscience got heavy. The poor came to beg for miracles.

And the women?

The women came for more than prayers.

I'd conducted weddings here. I'd held newborns in my arms during baptism, even as I fucked their mothers behind closed doors weeks later. Some of them came willingly. Most did. Seduced by the collar, the charm, the quiet strength I never needed to fake. The rest? Just too eager to repent.

Confession became our foreplay.

Penance turned into passion.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," they'd whisper.

And I'd forgive them-with my cock in their mouth or their thighs spread over the edge of the pew, legs shaking, breathless for mercy.

One begged for a second round while clutching her rosary. Said her husband never made her cum. I told her I wasn't her husband.

She called it salvation.

And I let her.

They believed whatever I told them. Because I wore black. Because I stood at the pulpit. Because I held a Bible and wore a collar and spoke of Heaven while I dragged them into Hell.

None of them were innocent.

They moaned louder than they prayed.

They called my name more than they called God's.

And I let it all happen.

Because I could.

Because somewhere along the line, I stopped giving a fuck about redemption. My sins weren't accidents. They were choices.

Intentional.

Sharp.

Pleasurable.

I wasn't a man of God anymore.

I was a man of power.

But that morning... something felt different. I couldn't explain it. Like something was coming. A shift. A warning I couldn't see yet.

I leaned back in the chair, eyes fixed on the old wooden cross nailed above the doorway. It was crooked-always had been.

So was I.

Just then, the door opened.

"Father Maddox," came Sister Annalisa's voice, calm and proper. She stood in the doorway with a small smile and a paper in her hand. "We have a new volunteer joining us today."

"Another saint-to-be?" I asked, lazily.

She smiled politely. "A young woman. Mia, Just moved here with her Grandmother Said she wanted to help around the church."

Mia.

I hadn't met her yet.

But I felt it in my gut.

Whoever she was, she wasn't here for the same reasons the others came, or not.

And I'd find out soon enough.

"Okay... you can ask her to go ahead," I said with a slow smile. "I'll come shortly... to check her out."

Sister Annalisa gave a nod and a polite smile. "Yes, Father." She slipped out quietly, closing the door behind her.

Check her out. Or rather, check if she's someone I could use. Someone to wash the altar clean... to make it holy again with her knees bruised and lips shaking.

Mia.

The name alone dripped temptation. Sacred and sinful all at once. I didn't need to see her to know she would be the kind of girl men begged to corrupt.

I rose from the chair, adjusted my collar, and walked out of my office into the church hall. My shoes tapped softly against the ancient stone floors, echoing like whispers from the confessional.

My black cassock, a long flowing robe, a symbol of purity and discipline billowed quietly with every step. If only they knew what it truly concealed.

The church was still alive with movement. Old parishioners, familiar faces, moved about dusting the statues, replacing candles, straightening hymn books. Devoted. Loyal. Blind.

But I wasn't looking at them.

My eyes locked on her the moment I stepped further in.

I didn't need an introduction.

She was bent forward, her slender back arched ever so slightly as she wiped down the wooden pews. That movement-innocent to anyone else-felt like an invitation to me.

If only those delicate hands could wipe the remains of my lust off my cock the same way she scrubbed dust off that seat.

Her hair was golden. Not the dirty kind. Real blonde...long, thick, and falling softly over her shoulders. Her gown was modest. Too modest. Covered from neck to ankle, not a sliver of skin showing.

Which meant she was either truly devout-or pretending.

And I'd seen too many pretending saints turn into eager sinners under my touch.

I was walking toward her, already playing out a dozen scenarios in my head, when a voice stopped me.

"Father!"

I turned, forcing my expression into one of warm surprise. "Oh my... Mrs. Voss," I greeted, smiling big and sweet, like a damn saint.

She came hobbling toward me with that familiar pride in her step. One of the oldest members here. She believed in me, trusted me. She thought I was her saving grace.

We hugged like good church folk do. Brief. Pure on the outside.

"What a pleasure to see you here," she beamed. "I thought I might have to come to your office."

"Something wrong?" I asked, furrowing my brows in a show of concern.

"Oh no, no. Nothing like that," she said, waving her hand. "I brought my granddaughter today... to volunteer. Didn't the sister tell you?"

I blinked, pretending surprise. "She did? Wait... The girl Mia, is your granddaughter?"

"Yes, yes!" she smiled wide, her voice catching like she might cry. "She just returned from the city. She'll be staying with me now. I'm too old to be alone in that big house, especially since my husband passed..."

I rested my hand on her shoulder with practiced care. "Of course, Mrs. Voss. After your husband's death, it's only right. You need support... and comfort."

She smiled, eyes misty. "Thank you, Father. You've been such a comfort already... your presence here has been a blessing to us. I'm sure God will reward your service."

If only she knew what kind of service I was really offering.

"Let me introduce you to her properly," she said, motioning toward the seats in the church. "Come."

But when we turned, she froze.

The spot where Mia had been cleaning moments ago-was empty.

"She was just here..." Mrs. Voss frowned, pointing shakily at the vacant walkway. "She was right there, I swear..."

I said nothing, lips parting slightly.

My eyes scanned the pews. The altar. The side doors. Not a single trace of that blonde head. No sound. No movement. She'd vanished.

Where the hell did she go?

My curiosity flared-hot and hungry.

And suddenly, Mia wasn't just another girl to tempt.

She was a mystery.

And I always unwrapped my mysteries.