Chapter 4:

More

So uh... this chapter got a little out of control. My muse pulled this out of a very dark place. Triggers include dub-con, dom/sub, and uh... just shameful filth in general. Enjoy!

Saturday night, Emma was having the most incredible dream.

She was dancing. The room was beautiful. It had tall ceilings and ornate chandeliers showering golden light over the marble floor. She was wearing a red dress that made her feel more beautiful than she ever had, and in her arms was Father Jones.

He wasn't dressed like a priest. He wore a long coat of fine cloth, like a prince from a storybook. He was smiling at her from ear to ear. It made her feel warm and happy all over.

Then they were somewhere else. A hallway, dark and quiet, the muffled sound of music coming from the other side of the wall at her back.

"Emma, I need you." he said, and it was almost a whine.

"Here? she said breathlessly, his hands were gripping her so tight she could feel him through her corset.

"Yes. Here." he said firmly, kissing her hard.

She let him devour her, their mouths working in perfect sync until her lips were swollen and tender from the burn of his delicious stubble. "Hook..." she murmured and he kissed her neck, nibbling and licking and sucking her sensitive skin.

"Call me Killian." he said, "I want you to say my real name when you fall."

Suddenly, his hand was under her dress, prying her legs apart and lazily massaging her folds. When she was panting for him he entered her with two fingers, scissoring them hard making her bite her lip. He began to do the most incredible things. He bent his digits back and forth, rubbing so forcefully on her sweet spot she saw stars as her muscles began to spasm. "Killian..." she moaned helplessly, "Killian... Killian!"

"Shh..." he purred, "Have to be quiet, love, unless you want everyone at this ball to find out what a naughty, naughty princess you are."

She moaned softly at his words, letting them wash over her causing her clit to throb just as his thumb began to rub it in time with his fingers.

"Perhaps your father will catch us. Perhaps dear old Dave will get to see me defiling his precious daughter like a-"

"Don't say it!" she cried breathlessly, trying to ignore her own want.

He grinned wickedly and said into her ear, "Like a whore."

Her muscles spasmed suddenly and his eyes lit up.

"Oooh, you like that word, don't you? That's what I'll make you." he said cockily, riding his ego like a steed, "A submissive little whore fit for a pirate."

"Say it again." she whined, needing to hear the dirty words once more.

"You're my whore, Emma. My filthy, compliant whore."

"I shouldn't want it, but..."

His fingered started pumping into her, angling so they hit the spot like no one ever had. "But you're tired of being in control. You're tired of being the strong one. Let me be strong. Let me dominate you, Emma. Let me possess you like the treasure that you are. Succumb to me, darling. Let me watch you fall apart on my fingers."

Finally her body succumbed just as he'd demanded. The orgasm pulsed deep within her making tears fall from her eyes as the borderline excruciating waves wracked her body. She screamed but he covered her mouth firmly with his hand muffling the agonized wail, still pumping into her so that the sensation lasted so long she thought she might be coming twice.

When she came down she was shaking. Her legs were weak and her body felt limp in his arms. He kissed her lazily, easing her back to reality, then, when her breathing had steadied he whispered in her ear, "Get on your knees."

Emma woke with a start, as she had every morning for the past week. The dreams were never the same, but they were always about him. It seemed her penchant for pirates had turned her fantasies from priests to captains, leaving her wondering how she was going to manage never seeing Father Jones again.

The night in his office was all she could think about. She was so ashamed. The things she had said in the confessional, the way she had begged to be punished, to be spanked like a naughty child... It was all too much. It would take a lifetime of penance to atone for that transgression... and yet...

She wanted him still. She swore she could still feel what he had done to her ass. Every time she sat down she was assaulted with the memory of him ruthlessly doling out her punishment.

She quickly sat up and got out of bed, throwing on her clothes. There was only one place that could make her forget: her garden.

As she pruned her rose bushes the thoughts faded away. She always felt so safe surrounded by the beautiful pink flowers. Emma plucked a bloom and brought to her face, inhaling deeply.

Suddenly, she was somewhere else, surrounding by the same flowers. Father Jones was on top of her, completely bare, rolling his hips into her slowly.

"Tell me you love me." he said, and though it was said like a command, she knew it wasn't.

Emma didn't speak. She was afraid.

"Say it, Emma. Please, love, let me hear it, just once."

"I..." the words stuck in her throat.

"It's alright. You can do it. I know that you do. I just want to hear it. I love hearing it. I won't ask again."

He was begging, and it broke her heart.

"Tell me you love me." he pleaded.

"I... I..."

"Mom?"

Emma jumped, pulled from her vision by a voice. She looked around, then she looked down. "Henry, what the hell are you doing here?!"

"The queen is at the store. I wanted to see how mass went."

Her cheeks went red. She stuttered, "It was... I... You shouldn't just walk into people's house, kid."

"You saw him, didn't you? You felt it?"

She tried to think of a reply. She wanted to say no. There was no way the young boy could have predicted what happened that night. And if he had... that thought made her skin grow even more flushed. "Henry, I don't know what you're talking about."

"The Priest! Father Jones! Did you recognize him?"

"No!" she shouted, too flustered to regulate her emotions, "Father Jones seems like a very nice man but I have never seen him before in my life so let it the fuck go, Henry!"

The boy blinked in surprise at her outburst.

She took a deep breath, "I'm sorry, kid, but whatever is going on with you it has nothing to do with me or Father Jones."

He looked frustrated, his brow furrowed deeply. "I think you're lying." He said petulantly, "I think you saw him and you felt something and you don't want to admit it."

"Henry, he's a priest!"

"No, he's not!" he shouted, stomping his foot, "He's a pirate! He's Captain Hook! I know that's hard to believe but-"

"Dammit, Henry, this is out of control! He is not-" she stopped, comprehending his words, "Wait... what did you say?"

"He's Captain Hook, from the story! You met him in the enchanted forest which is where all true love couples meet because that's where the happy ending are from! At first you didn't like him but..."

Emma couldn't hear what he was saying. Her mind was racing.

A submissive little whore fit for a pirate.

No. It couldn't be. It was crazy. Impossible.

Hook, she had moaned wantonly in his arms. She could still feel the word leaving her tongue.

"His ring!" Henry shouted, bringing her out of her feverish thoughts.

"W-what?" she said, dazed.

He grabbed her left hand, "This is his ring! He gave it to you! He took you out on his ship and asked you to marry him on the day the queen cast the curse. I know because he asked my permission before he did it."

"Oh, Henry, listen to me. I want to believe you, I do. I want to believe that I have a true love out there somewhere who's going to kiss me and wake me up from this life but that's just not how life works."

"Why are you so stubborn?! Why is it so hard for you believe?! I know you felt something, no matter what you say."

Emma stood up straight. It was time to put an end to this. "Henry, It's time for you to go, and please, don't come back."

With an angry huff, the furious child stomped out of the garden disappearing inside the house but before he was out of earshot he screamed back at her, "I guess you're gonna make me do this the hard way!"

She stood there for several minutes simultaneously trying to process what had just happened and not think too hard about the strange details. She tried to convince herself that her visions were just a coincidence, but doubt lingered in her heart which could still smell the fragrant blooms surrounding her as he said the hopeful words over and over in her ear.

Tell me you love me.

KEKEKEKEKEKEKE

Emma walked into the church like an inmate down death row. She didn't know how she would make it through, but she had to see him again. When he took to the pulpit he found her eyes immediately. She could see the fire in them as he gripped the blonde wood so tight she could see the whites of his knuckles.

When Jefferson lazily wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, she tried to get comfortable in his embrace. He kissed her forehead chastely, sweetly, and the look on Father Jones' face made her tremble where she sat. He looked like he might charge down the steps any moment and pound her boyfriend to a bloody pulp. She couldn't imagine that a priest would be capable of such a thing, and yet she knew that he was. She could read his expression as if it were an open book. He was furious. He was jealous. It made her feel hot and restless.

KEKEKEKEKEKE

She had to see him. Emma had to tell him in no uncertain terms that there was nothing between them. That he was a priest and she was in a committed relationship and humoring this craziness would only destroy their lives both mortal and eternal.

She opened the door on Thursday night, long after the sun had set. He was up on the dais, practicing his sermon to an invisible crowd, speaking with sincerity and conviction. She stood in the back at first, just listening to his musical voice until finally she stepped out of the shadows and walked towards him with determined steps.

He didn't say a word as she approached, holding her gaze until she was standing before him in front of the sacred alter.

"Emma-"

"Don't." she said firmly, "Just let me speak."

He closed his mouth and gave a slight nod indicating his compliance.

"There is nothing between us, Father. I know what happened was..." she blushed, remember pleasure pain that had accompanied every strike of his hand, "intense," she finished, "but it cannot happen again. It was wrong and sinful, and we both deserve-"

"What is it that you think you, deserve, Miss Swan?" the way he said her name made her stomach drop. It was spiteful and full of loathing that she didn't want to hear. He continued, speaking harshly while circling her like a predator. "Is it that rich ponce who you let put his hands all bloody over you?"

She became angry. He had no right. "Jefferson is my boyfriend. He's allowed to put his hands on me whenever he wants."

Emma could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears. His mouth was a straight line, his eyes wild with jealousy. He took a step towards her, and another, backing her up until her legs hit the alter. "Does he know that you like to be spanked? Hm?" she shivered, but refused to answer. He put his hands on her, feeling the curves of her body like a blind man. When he spoke again it was soft and low, sending lightning bolts into her stomach, "Does he know that you can't stop thinking about me."

"W-what? I- N-no, no I-I... I don't-" Emma cleared her throat nervously. He was standing flush with her now, pressing her into the heavy wooden tabled. She reached back and could feel the intricate designs carved into its surface. Holy words and symbols meant to make it a sacred object, purified for ritual. "I don't think about you."

"You're lying."

"I'm not, I-"

He cut her off with his mouth, dragging her headfirst into a heated kissed that set her body on fire. He growled as their tongues met, pulling her deeper until she was putty in his arms. Then, before she could react he hoisted her up onto the alter and laid her back, crushing her with his chest. She tried to push him off but he was strong and her efforts were half-hearted at best. Her body wanted him, that she couldn't deny, but as his hand reached under her black cotton dress and ripped her panties off of her with a loud tearing sound she cried out, "No, not here! It's wrong!"

He panted heavily above her, his forehead resting on hers, "I have to have you." he growled.

"But," she said desperately as he removed his pants without giving her any room to escape, "You took a vow."

He was already throwing his shirt and collar across the room as he replied, "Fuck those bloody vows." He lifted her with surprising strength and pulled her dress off her body, followed quickly by her bra. "Excommunication, ostracism, damnation... Whatever price there is to pay for this, I will gladly pay it. In this life, or the next."

She could feel him hard against her thigh, already nudging at her entrance. "Please, Father, we'll be damned forever!"

"You are mine, Miss Swan, and I'll take you whenever and however I like."

"Please," she moaned even as her legs wrapped around him, urging him inside, "It's so wrong."

"And you want it," he purred, "you want to be fucked in this holy place." He slid home easily as her body was more than willing even though her mind was screaming at her to resist.

When he started to thrust her moans echoed through the large space, filling the place with the sound of their debauchery. The slapping of skin, the slurping of their sloppy kisses, her keening cries that were the epitome of lust. She felt him bite down on her neck as he hit bottom making her see stars. "There!" she shouted, "Right there!" then she came to her senses. It wasn't right to commit this act where they were. She couldn't let herself feel pleasure from such a thing. It was too wrong. Too sinful. And it would make it real. So she fought her body's natural responses to the large head of his cock rubbing against her favorite spot. She resisted the pulsing that was starting deep within her, trying to hold on to what little control she had.

"Come for me, Emma." he demanded, "Come all over this bloody alter so that I can spend eternity in hell with my blasphemous little whore."

"I shouldn't!" she cried desperately, her limbs shaking with the effort of holding back the tidal wave, "It's wrong, it's so wrong!"

"Come for me!" he ordered, driving into her faster and deeper, making her sob. Her body was begging her to let go, but the guilt was too much.

"No." she gasped, "I won't let myself."

He sucked hard on her neck, biting down until she begged him to be merciful, then he said in a dark and sinister voice, "Then I'll have to make you." He stood up straight, looking down at her with his piercing blue eyes, and grabbed her firmly by the waist.

He began slamming her onto his cock like he was trying to fuck the life out of her. She felt the pulsing began. There was no way se could contain it. He was so large and it felt so incredibly good. She pleaded with him, "Please, no! I want to be a good girl."

"Oh but you're not a good girl. You are a lustful woman. You have damned my soul, Emma. You have enslaved my mind and so now I will make your body my slave. When I tell you to come undone on my cock you will do it whether you want to or not.

"I can't come on my priest's cock." she sobbed, "I'll feel so filthy."

"When you come I want you to confess to me that you are a dirty blasphemous whore who comes when she's told to. If you don't I will make you come again, and again, and again until your beautiful cunt is destroyed and you are begging me to stop because your body can't take anymore. And then I'll make you come one more time, just to teach you a lesson."

Her body began to tremble, the warmth creeping from her core. "Please, Father!" she begged pathetically but she was already clenching hard around him, giving into the euphoria that overtook her.

"There it is!" he shouted with glee as he continued to thrust violently into her, "That's my obedient slave. Come on, Emma," he cheered, "Confess to me!"

The guilt washed over her and the intense, mind numbing pleasure made her cry out, "God, please forgive me, I'm a dirty blasphemous whore who comes when she's told and I love getting fucked by my priest!"

He spilled himself inside her as she made her sinful confession. She could feel his hot seed shoot straight into her core as the aftershocks of her release warmed her skin and left her boneless on the alter.

After a moment, the priest picked her up and pulled her to the floor, laying her out and kissing her like he was dying of thirst and she was a mountain spring. When he pulled away she noticed something that made her mouth go dry.

"What is that?" she asked, pointing to his chest.

"Oh, I've had this thing for as long as I can remember." he replied, looking down at the pink rose tattooed on his chest, above his heart.

"What does it mean?" she asked quietly, running her fingers over the colored skin. The flower looked exactly like the ones in her garden.

"I uh..." he laughed, scratching shyly behind his ear, "Truthfully, I don't know. I don't even remember getting it."

Emma giggled, "A rake and a drunk."

"Rake?!" he exclaimed, playfully squeezing her bare ass, "I'll have you know that I have only been with one woman."

He kissed her but she pulled away, her brow furrowed, "What?" she said, "No. That's not possible."

He smirked at her, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger, "It's true."

"I don't believe that."

"Why not?"

"Because how do you know how to..." she searched for the words, "...do all of that."

He shrugged and threw out cockily, "I suppose I'm a natural."

Emma sent him a doubtful look. There was no way that could be true, but she let him have his lie.

"Sleep in my bed tonight." he said, his voice broken with emotion as he trailed kissed along the contours of her face.

She closed her eyes and reveled in the soft brushes of his lips against her skin, "I shouldn't..."

"Please," he begged, "please, I want to hold you as I fall asleep."

Emma sighed heavily, giving in. "Just this once." He pulled back to smile at her, then pulled her up and swept her off her feet. "What about my clothes?" she laughed, not really caring.

"No one will find them, I promise, and as long as we're alone you are to be completely bare at all times, do you understand?"

He was laughing to and as they walked towards the hall that led to his residence she snuggled into his neck inhaling the familiar scent of rum and musk. "Yes, Father."

Thanks for reading! Reviews are awesome and the response I get will determine the length of this piece.