The Man Of Sin: The Series - Sex Stories

The Man Of Sin: The Series

... could get more information on the suicides. Behind her desk, a receptionist got a call through her intercom. “Father, he’ll see you know.” He nodded in gratitude and walked over to the closed office door, which had a window of blurred glass with the chief’s name and title. He stepped into the office, the walls lined with framed headlines from the magazine. Working at his computer was the chief, an overweight balding man. He stood up and shook Hauser’s hand. “Ah, Father Hauser, what can I do for you?” “Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Elan. I’m here because I wanted to ask you about the story you posted last week, about the three boys who killed themselves.” “Father, I’m sure you know I can’t give up my sources, even to a man of the church.” Hauser sighed. “Well then I was hoping you could tell me any other pieces of information you might have. I’m worried that there may be something going on with these deaths.” “Oh please, you think you’re the first? We weren’t the first paper to say they were doing Devil worship. Every media outlet is being hounded by zealots.” “Well what I’m curious about is the fact that they were coming from a hospital. Can you at least tell me what you know about that?” “Well from what we heard, they got assaulted that morning.” “Wait, do you know by who?” “Now I certainly can’t just give you that information. I do have–” “I hereby absolve you of all your sins.” “There we go. Supposedly it was a girl from Rosewood University.” “Come on O’Connor, try ...

... to keep up!” Regardless of the coach’s barking, Helena struggled to keep up with the other girls. It was gym class and she was swimming in the university pool. With the invisible ropes binding her, any kind of physical activity was a nightmare. She never realized how much she moved her torso when swimming, and every time she gasped for air, she felt her breath being halved from the tightness of the restraints. Then there was the humiliation she was feeling. Everything she had seen and experienced so far today told her that the ropes were invisible, but when wearing nothing but a school swimsuit, she felt like the whole world could see her in this shameful straightjacket. Then there were the lines, the black lines on her skin, as wide as her fingers and clear as day. Luckily, swimsuits at a Catholic school were as modest they could be. They were more like wetsuits but with the sleeves and pant legs cut off and covered her throat like a turtleneck, so her collar and the binds around her shoulders were covered. The class was supposed to do five laps, but by the time all the other girls were done, she had only accomplished to. She was more tired than any of them, feeling the ropes sap her strength. The sensation was different in the water. They felt almost like fingers brushing up against her flesh, like a full-body massage. It wasn’t nearly as blissful as a real massage, but the stimulation was just as potent. The tightness around her breasts like they were being fondled, the ...