God was six days sober
On the night that she was born
To the glistening star of a bible class
An icon now in religious porn
She was Alice through the glory hole
An ejaculate misconception
Disney-esque, the high priestess
Of greed and deepest dark deception
Verse from “Libertina Grimm” from the album “Thornography” by Cradle of Filth
Cum dripped down the latticed partition, making a network of sticky webs in the tiny crosses that had been carved from the wood. Libertina heard the sharp rip of a zip-fly, an embarrassed laugh, the scrape of curtain rings on a rusted metal pole. Low mumbles, soft laughing, back slapping.
Through her screen and the gap in the open curtain, she could just make out a cluster of bodies. So many had already paid penance right there in her booth, and there were still so many left to come.
She licked her lips, tasting salt, the movement knocking a white blob off her chin. It landed on her right breast. With the tip of a sharp black fingernail, she scraped it off, slipped her finger into her mouth, and sucked.
Darkness fell over her as someone shuffled into the tiny space on the other side of the divider. He smelled of motor oil, sweat, and anxiety. Libertina knew her eyes had narrowed to lust heavy slits. This was the kind of penitent who would have secrets that would make the devil blush. The kind of secrets that made her clit swell and her cunt throb.
Turning to the side, leaning forward until her nipples brushed the dirty wood, hoping that he would see, not caring if he didn’t, she listened to him breathing. Heavy breaths that started to rattle with edginess, with anticipation. Impatience.
As soon as she heard the five pops that signalled the opening of button-fly jeans, her hips began to move. The wooden cock she was impaled on sank deeper into her, and she rode it, staring at the purple head that was being pushed through the jagged hole in the partition. She just kept on staring, watching the veiny cock twitch, stifling a moan when a bead of pre-cum blossomed at its very tip.
She wanted him to want it. Wanted to make him wait to see if he would be daring, stupid enough to beg for it. If he opened his mouth before she invited him to he’d be sorry, alright. There would be no absolution in Libertina’s confessional for him.
When his groin bucked off the partition, making it shake almost as quietly as he had moaned, Libertina smothered a laugh. He wanted it, and because he hadn’t spoken one word, she decided to let him pay penance. She lifted her face, tongue protruding from between her red stained lips, and gathered up that glistening bead with a long, slow lick.
Lowering her honey spiked voice to a whisper, she uttered the words she knew he was waiting for. “Do you have anything to confess?”