The church in your little town was a veritable cathedral. It was the largest building around by a margin, with double doors as high as your home was. Inside, the great hall was lit red-gold with the stained glass windows filtering the solar glow from evening light. You always came in the evening, because it was when the fewest other people would be present. A page was at work on the large corner piano filling the great hall with gentle, but low octave music that rolled slow like waves on the shore. Every thud seemed to go right down your stomach into your cunt, because it knew what to expect.

Behind the great hall was a door, big and dark, set into the shadowed corner between the stained glass windows on the side walls, and the massive building sized tapestry on the rear wall. The door was black and labeled "Confessional" in golden letters. After knocking you had to wait, letting that rumble of the piano dig as deep into your brain as it did your crotch. Eventually, the door was opened and you were admitted. No one was waiting on the other side, but there was a small antechamber there, benches on either side covered in red velvet. Candles at the for corners lit the space and made it stifling and warm. This was a waiting room, but as you had come when you did, this wasn't necessary for you so you walked through the next door, also black, but much smaller.

Behind the second door was a hall going to the left and right. It was a dark place, lit by a few sit windows at either end which cast long beams along the grey stone tiles. There were at least a dozen confessional booths, but only one was obviously available thanks to the glow of the lantern hung just outside it. Once you walked in front of that came the ritual. First, your clothes. They had to be removed and slid through a slot where the priest was waiting. Without a word they were taken, to be given back when you were cleansed.

The next step was to enter your side of the confessional, taking the lantern in with you to mark the spot as occupied. There was a slot on the left wall of the small space to set the lantern in. It's heat would slowly make the small space where you now sat hot enough to sweat. The longer this took, the more uncomfortable it would, but the heat was the least of those discomforts.

You couldn't see but the hands folded placidly in the priests lap. There was a screen between the two of you at about stomach height, but it could be raised and currently it was raised just enough to give this view to you, and of course to him. He could see your bare thighs, and your hands folded over them shielding your crotch. This way he would know when you are ready, and you would be ready when you were about to cum.

Things would remain silent until then. You had to sit there, in the now absolute silence and fuck yourself. Your legs had just enough room to spread as you exposed yourself and rubbed your clit like some hunched over animal, reduced to your baser instincts, as you were when god made you. That wasn't the hard part though, the hard part was stopping just before you came, because if you came without absolution you would only fall deeper into sin.

If you stopped in time, leaving yourself throbbing but unsatisfied, the priest would finally speak. "God sees your need," he would say in a smooth, monotone. "Confess."

As you detailed every bad thing you'd done as of late, the priest would listen, hands still idly folded. After each sin he would stop you and give you a benediction. "Thirty seconds," he would respond, for a simple sin. Then he would count. "One... two... three," whereupon you were required to masturbate more until the time was finished. If you came before that time was finished, you would fall deep into sin.

This would continue, with small sins getting small times to work yourself, and worse ones requiring minutes of slow pumping. If you had committed something particularly heinous, like thieving of nonessential goods, the priest would reach over and work you himself through the slit, removing your control but still requiring you to hold back.

Finally, when you were finished confessing you would be ready to gain absolution, and release. "Repent, woman." At that point was your chance to earn your reward. The more frantically, the more feverishly you begged to be forgiven your crimes, if even it came to tears, the better would be your reward.

Depending on your sincerity, and on the temperament of your priest, you would then earn a chance to orgasm. "Back up here," this priest told you when you were finish, and the screen came up enough for you to plant your sizable rear right into the window. The screen space could be adjusted to account for just about any sized woman. And in this case, your absolution was to come orally. While you braced yourself, sweaty from the lantern and your exertions, hands on the walls and ceilings, ass in the window frame, the priest got behind you.

If needed, there was a second, eye level window, much smaller, above the first. It could be opened, allowing the priest to reach through and grab your hair to ensure you wouldn't move while he planted his face into your ass, bulging as it was through the narrow window, and began to eat you. The wet slurping sounding was echoing, bouncing off the stone around the confession booth as much as you moans. God was giving you this as forgiveness. It was as if God was sucking your clit, teasing it with his divine teeth or pumping into your cunt with a wet cock-like tongue that drooled to leave more of the stains that had to be scrubbed, unsuccessfully, by the pages, after dark.

And when you came, so too did your forgiveness. The priest released your hair, withdrew his tongue, and closed the barrier to a slit again and slid through your neatly folded clothes. "God forgives," he would then assure you, and allow you to at least leave.

As it happened, most men in town were able to volunteer as a confessional priest; it was even part of their religious education. So when you left you could walk through town the next day wondering... was it the baker's son, or the baker himself? Was it the coach driver, was it your own nephew or son? You couldn't know, to know would be a sin you would need be forgiven of.

I guess I'm on a kick of female masturbation lately? I dunno, but it makes for some interesting scenarios don't ya think? I figure this could go a number of ways, maybe you play multiple women coming through with different sins (and body types) getting different kinds of forgiveness. Maybe you play a woman who discovers who her favorite priest is and has to hide it, perhaps it even sparks an affair? I figure cheating, age gaps, and perhaps interracial themes could be used here (maybe only minority women must confess?).

Either way, those kinks are ideas, but I'm particularly fond of pussy licking (asses too), big butts, sweat/musk, semi-public action, and more. Of course it won't just be tongue that enters a sinful woman, depending how she repents or what she must repent for. What about limits? Well no blood, animals, violence/force (though non-con is fine), or anything generally illegal (save for incest).

Anyway, if this gave you ideas feel free to write me a direct response, even just a one off response or just write me your thoughts/interests. I have a large back-log of prompts now, most all of which are open in case you like my writing but not this particular prompt. Also, bonus points if you can name the inspiration for this prompt!