Priests Gone Wild
Copyright© 2026 by Ring of Seed
Chapter 8: Begging for the Crown
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 8: Begging for the Crown - A quiet ecumenical synod. Five older priests arrive expecting doctrinal debate. They leave leaking. A young liaison with a clipboard turns the gathering into a week-long competition of who can: take the most; hold the longest; beg the loudest; leak the least. Blindfolds, guessing games, holy items as plugs, arses presented like competing portals. They pout, sabotage, crowning themselves “biggest slut” while the twink narrator owns them all. No redemption. No moral comfort.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Ma Mult Consensual Reluctant Gay Fiction Group Sex Anal Sex Analingus Cream Pie Double Penetration First Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Voyeurism
The refectory still smelled of toast and weak tea. Cups sat cooling on the long oak table. Sunlight had strengthened through the high windows, now slanting across the flagstones in pale bars. The five priests drifted in one by one. No one spoke the word “debrief”. They simply arrived. Cassocks still faintly damp at the hems. Faces flushed from the morning’s game. Holes clenching. Loads shifting with every careful step.
I waited at the head of the small vestry room. Door latched. Chairs arranged in a loose semicircle. High window letting in thin light. Radiator hissed softly behind the panelling. A faint metallic bite of candle soot lingered in the air. They sat. Slowly. Gingerly. Malcolm first, wrists still marked red from the wooden cross chain. Then Lionel, pectoral cross catching light against sweat-damp fur. Giovanni next, zucchetto slightly askew, red silk darkened in one spot. Sergei lumbered in last, broad frame filling the doorway, beard still matted in places. Angus closed the circle. Geneva Bible resting unopened on his lap.
I remained standing. Voice low. Calm.
“Speak freely. No ranks. Just truth. What happened this morning changed you. Tell me what it felt like.”
Silence first. Then Malcolm cracked. Voice small. Still smarting.
“I watched. I came untouched. From nothing. Just the sounds. Just the smell. Just seeing you fill them one after another. I finished first. That’s ... that’s devotion. Isn’t it?”
Lionel exhaled. Sharp. Cross tapped once against his chest hair.
“Devotion? You leaked on the prie-dieu like a boy. I held deeper. Clenched tighter. My gate stayed sealed longer than any of theirs. I took him raw in the chapel while you were still fumbling with your cross. You think untouched makes you special? It makes you the weakest link.”
Giovanni laughed. Soft. Filthy. Triumphant.
“Weakest? Darling bishop, you whimpered when I kissed you. Thought it was him. I took every wrong guess. Every finger. Every shallow thrust. And still begged louder. I’m the biggest slut. I earned it. My hole swallowed like it was born for it. Yours just ... hoped no one heard.”
Sergei growled. Low. Bearish.
“Born for it? You begged like a novice. I took it all without whining. My retention was best. My arse held through vespers. Yours leaked during plenary. I’m still full. Still heavy. You’re the loudest beggar. Not the deepest vessel.”
Angus’s fingers flexed on the Bible cover. Voice steady but cracking at the edges.
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