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Content warning: This is a fetish story that contains some very graphic descriptions of vomiting. Hit that back button now it this ain’t your thing. Otherwise, please do enjoy!
***
The world spun around Father Kelly as he tried to steady himself against the cool wooden panel of the confessional. He felt as if his stomach was full of hot coals, and with each passing second, it seemed to grow more unbearable. His breath came out in short, ragged gasps as he closed his eyes, willing the sensation to pass. It had been this way all day, this relentless, punishing nausea that left him weak and drained. He wondered what the hell he’d eaten that had upset his gut like this. Or maybe it was God’s way of punishing him for the sins of the flesh he’d been enjoying…
With a moan, he massaged his bloated abdomen and unfastened a few buttons of his cassock. He was getting the urge to part with his stomach contents. He’d hoped he’d eventually shake off the nausea, but whatever he’d eaten, or whatever illness he’d contracted, wasn’t going to let him off lightly.
He heard the soft click of the confessional door opening, and then the gentle footsteps of someone approaching. He didn’t bother to open his eyes, knowing instinctively who it was. “My dear Father,” came the soothing voice of Sister Catherine, his favourite nun and secret lover. Aged about thirty, she was pretty, thoughtful and under that shy exterior, was a deeply passionate woman who thrilled him like nothing else on Earth.
“I brought you some water. I thought it might help with your…condition.” There was a brief pause, and then she added, timidly, “If you’d like.”
Father Kelly forced a weak smile, and staggered to his feet, his heart swelling with gratitude for her concern. “That’s very kind of you, Sister,” he managed to say between gasps. He felt her hands on his shoulders, gently guiding him down onto the bench as she placed the cool glass into his trembling hands. He took a sip, grateful for the cold, refreshing liquid as it slid down his throat. But it did little to quell the fire in his gut.
“Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do, Father?” Sister Catherine asked, her voice laced with concern.
He hesitated for a moment, his görükle escort gaze fixed on the floor between them. “There is one thing,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper, as he started heaving. “My stomach’s churning. I-I’m…going to be sick…please can you me fetch something I can use? I’m so sorry…I…won’t make it to the toilet in time.”
Sister Catherine’s face flushed, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she knelt down beside him, gently placing a cool, soft cloth against his forehead. “Of course, Father,” she murmured. “I had a feeling earlier that you were going to. So I brought you this.” She lifted up a large bowl and placed it in his lap.
“Thank you. You’re so good to me,” he mumbled. “Uh…this won’t be pleasant for you to see, Sister. I understand completely if you wish to leave. Puking…is such a horrid thing.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Father. I’m not leaving you to suffer all alone. I’ve done work in hospitals in the past. I’ve seen many a person throw up. And don’t feel embarrassed. You’ll feel so much better once you’ve been sick. For whatever reasons, your stomach just can’t deal with something you’ve eaten or you’ve got a bit of norovirus. Anyways it needs what’s in there, gone.”
He nodded, heaving intensifying, his face ashen, sweat running down his forehead and saliva filling his mouth.
Truth be told, Sister Catherine really wanted to witness the priest vomiting. Looking at Father Kelly now, she recognised all the signs. He was desperate for digestive relief, and she figured he had a lot to bring up. Watching him fill the bowl with his puke would be a treat. Why this aroused her so much, she had no idea. She’d never been remotely interested in seeing anyone else vomit. She wasn’t repulsed, just indifferent. But the thought of Father Kelly in such a vulnerable state caused that familiar tingling between her thighs, the tingling she felt every time he kissed her and she felt his hard cock pressing through his cassock. Maybe because he was always such a robust and forceful man…not just in the way he made love to her, but in his everyday manner. This was the first time she’d seen him ill. Father Kelly was a tall, stout man, with nilüfer escort a thick head of silvery hair. She’d heard some of the other nuns whisper that in his youth, he must’ve had movie star looks. For Sister Catherine, he was more attractive now he was middle-aged, given that she’d always been attracted to older men in positions of power.
Father Kelly could feel it again, gearing up like a roller coaster climbing a hill, ready to plunge suddenly down at any moment. He swallowed continuously as it built, hoping to dispel the rapidly growing tension in his gut. A loud sour belch erupted forth, and finally pushed him over the edge. He’d done everything in his power to keep his stomach contents down, but it was time to admit defeat.
“Father, I’m here.” Sister Catherine gently rubbed his shoulder. “Don’t try to fight it. Just let it all come out.”
Unable to speak, he uttered a pained moan, and held her hand, whilst gripping the bowl with his other.
The priest had a split-second to think that this was going to be deeply revolting, before he began heaving more violently than he ever had in his life. Suddenly, he jerked forward and vomited.
“Urrugghh–hrrruuuuuk~!!”
Brown lumpiness spewed forth and splattered into the bowl.
My God, Sister Catherine gasped. It was so much, so…impressive. The sour stench of stomach acid filled the confessional at once.
“That’s it. Keep going!” Her voice was trembling with excitement.
And as the pains and heaves continued to come right on top of one another, Father Kelly wondered frantically how long this punishment would continue. He let loose another massive load, with a loud “urrr….ummmfff!”
Sister Catherine bit her lip as she felt herself nearing orgasm. She longed to rub her clit through her clothing but with one hand in Father Kelly’s and the other steadying the bowl in his lap, it wasn’t possible.
Another mouthful of chunky vomit from the priest sent her over the edge, imagining all of his lovely warm puke splattering on her naked body…
I truly am a Daughter of Sin, she thought, and she watched intently as Father Kelly vomited again.
The priest groaned. Oh sweet bursa sınırsız escort Jesus, why couldn’t it stop? He just wanted it to be over but puke kept filling his mouth, splashing into the bowl and now he could feel his bowels cramping, and every time he heaved he could feel the pressure in his rectum building. The force of it was enough that he could feel a soft mass of faeces beginning to move out of his hole and press against his underpants.
And then it was sliding out of him faster as his stomach muscles convulsed again.
A final heave and a few pale chunks, and his stomach had at last rid itself of its foul load. His muscles were no longer forcing him to empty his bowels, but at this point it was impossible to stop so he relaxed and filled his underwear with his warm faeces. It felt quite nice actually; oddly pleasurable.
Better out than in.
Sister Catherine remained steady, her hand never leaving his back as she helped him through. Now it had finally subsided, she gently dabbed his mouth with a tissue, wiping away the last of his vomit. “There, now,” she said, her voice soothing. “That’s much better. It’s probably just a stomach bug,” the nun smiled, her voice reassuring. “These things happen. But I’m here for you, Father, no matter what.” She placed a hand on his knee.
Father Kelly felt drained but wonderfully relieved. “Thank you, Sister,” he managed to say between ragged breaths. “I don’t know what came over me…” His voice trailed off, and for a moment, they sat in silence, until another overpowering smell filled the confessional.
“Um, I think I’ve…uh had a bit of an accident,” he mumbled.
“I know,” she said, with patient understanding. “And I’ll help clean you up, my sweet Father.” She kissed his lips and he raised his hand to pull her closer, and they shared a second, more lingering kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth. She could smell and taste the aftermath of his pukery, as she termed it.
“Mmmm…”
Sister Catherine lifted the puke-filled bowl off his lap. He’d thrown up so much, more than she’d ever imagined. He surely felt so much better. She’d enjoyed watching him vomit way more than she’d ever imagined too, and wondered if God would damn her soul for indulging in such a repulsive fetish?
No, it wasn’t repulsive. Just my beloved priest at his most vulnerable, ridding his gorgeous body of a troublesome demon. And I was there to help him cast it out. She smiled as she helped Father Kelly to the toilet.
She looked forward to damning her soul even further.
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