Master of Minds, Master of Me

I walk inside the greenhouse and see her sitting on the bench alone. I approach her, and once again, she doesn’t notice me. She is too focused on the flowers or maybe just lost in thought.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I ask when I’m close enough.

She turns her head to me, and I kind of hoped I would see some shift in her expression. But I don’t. She gets up, wears her faint noble smile, and bows.

“Greetings to the—”

“Relax. I think we are already past that official meeting phrase, don’t you think?” I interrupt her.

“You don’t want me to greet you properly?” she asks like a statue.

“Absolutely not. Please, just anything else than that.”

I sit on the bench and tap the place next to me, urging her to sit back down. And she does.

“Why are you here, Your Highness?”

Understandable question, since I told her that I see her on the weekend. But I just wanted to see her one more time before I sink myself into duties. This week is going to be rather busy, so I’m really not going to be able to see her while being myself at least. I can’t just wait until tomorrow morning to see her at church though.

“You dropped something yesterday, and I came to give it back.”

I take a handkerchief out of my pocket and hand it to her.

“Thank you, Your Highness. I didn’t even realize I dropped it.”

Well, you didn’t drop it. I, of course, stole it. So I could have an excuse to come see you. I took it when you were lost in my illusion of us in that pond. And damn, I was a little bit lost in her too at that time. Do you have any idea how my flower looked in that white dress, all wet? I could clearly see her bra underneath it. I wanted to touch her so badly. So I’m a little jealous of the illusion version of me, having the pleasure to glide his hands along her body.

“I found it floating on the pond when I went back to the garden. It must have dropped during our swimming session,” I say teasingly, hoping to see some reaction from her as she remembers what happened.

But once again, I get a big pile of nothing. She really is a tough nut to crack. I think she is actually a little colder than before. Suddenly, she gets up.

“I do appreciate you giving it back to me, Your Highness. I need to head back to my room now. I hope you have a pleasant week, Your Highness.”

She bows to me slightly and turns to leave. I'm a little stunned that she would just get up and leave already. We didn’t even have the chance to talk about anything yet. I wake up from my daze and dart up to grab her hand.

“Wait! You can’t just leave me here!”

She turns to look at me. “What do you mean, Your Highness?”

I grab both of her hands and hold them tightly in mine. I turn on my dramatic mode.

“To be honest, I have this terrible condition that if I don’t talk to a pretty lady at least one hour each day, I’m just going to die.”

“Your Highness.” Her expression is still unchanged. “There is no condition like that. And even if there were, I’m sure a person of your standing is able to find much prettier girls to talk to.”

I pull her closer to me by her hands. “But you're the prettiest of them all. And I won’t settle for any less.”

She falls silent for a while. Her expression doesn’t change, but I can sense from her mind that she is rather confused.

“Please, Your Highness. Could you let go of my hands?”

I lean closer to her face, smirking.

“Oh? Don’t you like me touching you?”

I flash her the image of my hands around her body by the pond. And that surely gets her. It’s not much, but I definitely see the shift in her gaze. Damn, my little flower is addictive. Just that tiny shift in her expression for a second is like a huge rush of dopamine.

She yanks her hands from my grasp.

“No, I don’t, Your Highness.”

I'm a little stunned by her honesty. Usually, she just says the most neutral and polite things. I can’t help but smile at her. I’m so freaking happy right now. Clearly, she is not so wary of me anymore if she has the courage to be so blunt. Not walking so much on eggshells. I put my hands in my pocket and tilt my head as I gaze into her eyes.

“I guess you just need to get used to it then.”

She just turns and heads outside from the greenhouse. Not even a goodbye? Oh, I so got her.

I exit too and watch her walking away, soon disappearing behind the trees. I really can’t wait to see her tomorrow morning.

---

I have no idea what time she is going to come to the church. I was so sloppy that I didn’t glance at the clock when I saw her through the window yesterday. Then I would at least know what time she went yesterday. But the parliament meeting started at 7 AM, so it can’t be before that. And, of course, there is a chance she comes earlier than yesterday.

So it’s 7 AM, and I’m already here. Ted wasn’t very pleased when I informed him yesterday that I’m going to start my workdays a little later from now on. But I’m his boss after all, so there really isn’t anything he can do about it. I take my time and stroll around the church, just trying to make time pass a little quicker.

I stop to stand in front of the statue of the God of Creation on the altar.

You know, God, could you just take off your claws from my pretty flower? It’s not very nice to just hog her to yourself like that. I could say that’s pretty selfish, actually. And God shouldn’t be selfish. Me, on the other hand? Very selfish person. So can’t you just give her to me? At least during the Selection? I know she doesn’t want to be a Queen, and of course I won’t force her to be that. I’m not that mean. And I know the Queen must be someone that the country benefits too. So I’m not thinking about making her my Queen. But is it just too much to ask to have a little fun with her while I can? Like a last fling before settling down?

I had pretty neutral feelings about my marriage of convenience. To get engaged only based on benefits, not because of feelings. But now, suddenly, the whole thought feels sour in my mouth. I will of course do it. It’s my duty as a Crown Prince. So I really need this one last time to just act purely on feelings. Live a little more normally while I still can.

I turn around and spot my flower sitting on the front row. How didn’t I hear her coming in?

“Good morning, Lady Lorelia. You should have said something when you came in.”

I walk to sit next to her.

“Good morning, Father Owen. You looked so deep in prayer, so I wouldn’t dare to interrupt.”

Well, you could have called it a prayer. I was praying to have you, my pretty flower. Let’s just hope God will help me with my endeavors.

“So how have you been?” I ask, keeping my eyes on her.

She falls silent for a while, probably thinking about what to tell me.

“I have been faring well.”

“Why do I sense hesitation in your voice?” I probe. I actually don’t sense it in her voice. But I sense it in her mind.

A faint smile curls at the corner of her lips. “Was I that unconvincing?”

“I think you know that you can’t hide your true emotions from God.”

I think I’m pretty much nailing this whole priest act. I should get a medal or something.

“I know. Sometimes I just hope willpower is stronger than feelings.”

Trying that hard to deny your growing lust? Not on my watch.

“We should never try to deny our feelings, they are there for a reason. We should only try to understand them, accept them.”

She doesn’t answer. She is lost in her thoughts. I try to sit there patiently and wait. But apparently, I’m not a patient man, so I push her to talk.

“Am I right to presume that washing away your thoughts didn’t work?”

She furrows her brows, staying silent.

“If you feel awkward talking about it here, would you like to do the confession again? I know talking about things we don’t enjoy is easier when you don’t see the other party. That’s the whole point of confession. So it’s easier to open up. Only you, your thoughts and God. Nothing more.”

Please, please agree to make a confession. I really want to hear your sweet voice more. And your thoughts about everything. She stays silent for a long time and gives a slight nod. I feel my smile pushing out, but I contain it, keeping my face more neutral, only giving her a slight encouraging smile when I stand up and walk toward the booth. I settle down on my side and listen to her slide into hers.

I wish I could actually see her. I’m not sure if she lets her face show more emotions when she is alone.

“Whenever you are ready,” I say.

She stays silent, and I really have to press down my urge to push her to talk. I know priests probably wouldn’t do that. So I just try to contain myself and remain silent. When she finally speaks up, her voice is low, more like a whisper.

“Do you think that the Devil exists?”

Well, I surely didn’t expect that one. The Devil? I actually haven’t really thought much about the existence of a Devil before.

“I can’t give you a definite answer to that. The Devil and God are vastly different beings. The existence of God is proven, undeniable. Even non-religious people can’t deny that. But the Devil? There is no proof of that. The majority of people do believe in the Devil, thinking black magic comes from him, that he is here to torment us, to lure us.”

“But what do you think?”

“I think that somewhere in the far past, there might have been someone like him. Someone bad and powerful enough to make people believe that he is the Devil. Someone who made the story live in the first place. And it just stuck. Over time, the Devil became just a way for parents to scare their children, to make them believe the Devil will collect their soul if they don’t behave. Or the Devil is just an excuse to deny your own mistakes. It’s easier to blame the Devil than admit that you yourself did something wrong.”

She stays silent for a long time.

Wai, wait, wait.

Does she think that the Devil caused those illusions? That the Devil is behind it all? Oh, my pretty flower. It’s not the Devil. Just a horny Crown Prince.

''Do you believe in the Devil?'' I ask her.

''Yes.''

''Is there a specific reason for that?''

''Yes, but that is something I don't want to share.''

We both fall silent. I'm not sure what to think about that. Does she think that the Devil exists only because of my illusions, or is there something else behind it?

''I saw something again,” she finally speaks.

Oh, we are finally getting to the good part.

“Something concerning the man you talked about previously?”

“Yes. But this time he was touching me in the vision.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

Again, the silence. I knew I wasn’t a patient man, but damn, she is stretching my patience so much.

“Wrong.”

“Wrong? So you didn’t feel attracted to the man?” I was kind of hoping for horny or something like that. Not wrong.

“I did.”

I almost jumped in my seat with excitement. Goddammit, hearing that makes me happy. Resistable Felix strikes again. But I gather myself and try to remain calm, like a proper priest.

“And why do you think that is wrong?”

“Because that is not something I want to feel. I don’t want anyone to take my focus from the thing that matters most to me.”

“Can I ask you something private?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever experienced anything intimate or physical with a man?”

“No.”

Oh, I’m so going to steal your kissvirginity, pretty flower. And a little more than that too.

“Have you ever wanted to?”

“Never. And I will never want that.”

That’s rather odd. Never? So she doesn’t want a family or anything like that? At all?

“Don’t you think there is a possibility that you can still stay totally devoted to God, even with physical attraction? Do you think that priests with families are somehow less devoted?”

“No, I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that my situation is different. In my situation, I really can’t have distractions. Not a single one.”

I’m really struggling to understand her here. What is so different in her situation?

“And you feel that this attraction is really a distraction?”

“Yes. It even tormented me last night.”

Woah, woah, woah. Last night? Please say she had a naughty dream about me. Please, please, please.

“Last night?” I ask, as calmly as possible.

“I had a dream about him.”

Jackpot! Oh, I so want to know what kind of dream she had.

“What was it like?”

“It was similar to what I saw during the day, about him touching me. But it went farther than that.”

Farther than that? Oh, you dirty girl. She continues telling the dream. I can feel the embarrassment in her mind as she speaks.

“I was touching him in it too.”

She did? Oh, pretty flower, you are free to touch me whenever you want. All you need to do is ask. Since she clearly wants to paint the picture in my head, I return the favor. I give her the image of us on the pond.

“What happened then?” I push her to continue.

“I opened his shirt, wanting to see his chest like in the first vision I had.”

I follow her orders, guiding her fingers to open the buttons one by one, while I make my hands slide against her wet body.

“I just touched his bare chest while his hands glided to my breasts.”

Again, I follow the story, getting jealous of the vision version of me once again. But only the sight of my hands gliding to her breasts makes my cock twitch inside my pants.

Then I hear it. A slight, silent sigh from her lips.

And holy God, just that tiny voice makes my dick solid hard in a second. Fuck, how can this woman drive me this crazy from just a tiny sound? Just imagining her on the other side of that thin wood separating us, lost in the feeling of me caressing her, makes me want to take her. And not just have fun with her like I have done with other women, but really take her. All the way.

She falls silent, probably just watching the scene unfold. So I decide to add my little extra there. I make her feel my hard erection under her, just wanting to make sure she knows how much I want her. And that surely makes her snap out of it.

I hear her shift a little in her seat before speaking.

“And after that, I woke up.”

“Did you feel guilty after it?”

“Extremely.”

“It was just a dream. Nothing to feel bad about. Our subconscious is something we don’t have control over. So even though you want to resist during the daytime, there is nothing you can do about what happens during your dreams. And even God knows that. She is the one who created us, after all. So she would never judge you based on what you dream of.”

“I guess you are right. That makes me a little bit more at ease.”

“So do you still want to fight against the attraction during the day?”

“Yes. What happened yesterday made it even clearer. I know God doesn’t forbid us from having physical connections, but I forbid it myself. I have a single goal in life. And achieving that is much easier when there are no distractions.”

“What is your goal?”

“I’m sorry. That is not something I can tell.”

Well, that’s a bummer. I really can’t come up with a single life goal where having physical connections would be in the way. But it’s understandable that she doesn’t want to share everything right away. Maybe during these weeks, she grows closer to priest me and opens up even more.

“I understand.”

“Do you think God can help me resist?”

“Usually, God helps people resist something that God also thinks is wrong. So your case is a little different in that part. It will rely more on your own willpower. But God will live by our side, whatever we choose to do. The God of Creation always blesses us with water, whether it’s a baby just born or land to be blessed. Water is God’s element. So you can always seek aid from it.”

I really am a damn good priest. Maybe I should think about a career change.

“Thank you, Father. Even though God might not help me, just talking about it makes me feel more at peace with it.”

“I’m here to listen, whatever worries you.”

“Will you be here tomorrow morning too?”

“Of course.”

“See you tomorrow then, Father Owen. I hope God blesses your day.”

“God’s blessings for you too, my child.”

I hear her leaving the booth, but I stay inside for a while, since my stubborn boner just doesn’t want to settle down. Masturbating in a confession booth isn’t something I’m too eager to do.

But I’m so excited to hear her talk every morning. When she is with the real me, she usually just listens to me rambling. Just watches, observes. Her voice is so sweet it melts my soul. I’m just glad I can still have the opportunity to listen to her speak every day.

I hope she will confess every dirty dream in the future too. I gladly listen to what she desires. That low sigh of hers is drilled into my memory. I can’t wait to hear more from her. How does her voice sound when she moans? Or when she comes?

I feel my cock hardening even more.

Okay, that was totally on me. I should not have thought about her like that if I want to get up at some point. Of course, I can always use my magic to make people unsee my boner, but it would still be too awkward for me. So let’s just stay here and think about something not so arousing. Like… umm… tax reports?

Yeah, let’s do that.