Sexual Magic #1: The Priest's Virgin Concubine

By Alana Church

The new priest doesn't realize that his parish has a secret. In order to keep Fertile Valley happy, healthy, and prosperous, at Midsummer they sacrifice the virginity of a young woman. When Father Justin discovers the truth, and learns that he is expected to be the one to deflower sexy young Brittany, will he accept it? Or will he reject the offer of "The Priest's Virgin Concubine?"

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

“What did you do?” Brittany demanded, when they went up to the house to wash up and clean the fish.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Her best friend smirked as they stood together at the sink.

“Haley! Tell me!”

“Not all of it. Not even to you, FBFF.” The expression on her face gentled, becoming almost tender. “Doug wanted to talk. Just the two of us.

“So we talked. And talking led to...other things. Nice things.”

“How nice?”

“Very nice.” The smile widened wickedly. “Now I know why your brother is so good with his...tools.”

“Did you...”

“No. But oh, God, Britt. I wanted to, so bad. I know he’s your brother, but...” Her eyes went soft and dreamy. “He’s got great hands. And great...other things. I made him happy. And he made me very happy. But I still haven’t let any visitors through my front door.”

“Oh. Good.”

Though, to be honest, Brittany felt just the tiniest bit disappointed that her best friend hadn’t given in to temptation. If she and Doug got together, well, she would be happy for both of them. But if they were together together, then maybe one of her rivals for Father Justin’s attention would be out of the running.

It really wasn’t nice of her to think that way, and part of her squirmed guiltily. But another part of her remembered what it had been like a couple of weeks ago, when she had sat in the chair in Father Justin’s office, her hands on her breasts and her body absolutely on fire as she told the wide-eyed priest about her sexy, naughty dreams. Her fingers had stroked her body, and she didn’t think Justin had noticed the way she had rubbed her virginal thighs together until she exploded in one of the hottest climaxes of her entire life.

“Good?” Haley interrupted her reverie. “I’m making out with your brother, and that’s all you have to say?” Her eyes fell to her chest. “God, you’re thinking about Justin right now, aren’t you? Look at your nips.”

Unbidden, her glance strayed out the window above the sink, where Doug and Justin were cleaning the fish. Several of the half-wild barn cats had gathered around. The tips of their tails twitched at the prospect of a free meal.

“He’ll pick you,” she heard herself say. “You’re prettier.”

“Maybe.” Haley rounded her eyes at her teasingly. “But you’ve got better titties.”

“And you’ve got better legs.”

“And you’ve got a better butt.”

“You think?” Brittany craned her neck around, trying to get a good look. “I always thought it was a little too big.”

“It’s not fat. It’s just...bouncy.” Haley smacked her rear with the palm of her hand, making her jump. “I’ll make you a bet. And it’s the best kind. The kind where no matter who is right, we both win.”

“What?” she asked suspiciously.

Her best friend smiled lazily and put her hands on her waist, drawing her close. “If I win, you know that he’ll pick you at Samhain. And after that, I’ll try to convince him to let us share him. At least once.”

Her heart pounded. “And?”

“And if he picks you at the bonfire, you do the same thing for me.” Haley drew a finger up and down her arm, making her skin rise up in gooseflesh, despite the heat of the room. “Can you imagine it? All three of us?”

Caught in the web of her voice, Brittney nodded.

“Deal.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boruma Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Jul 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005879075

Alana Church

Born and raised in Illinois, Alana attended the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, graduating with a degree in Education in 1994. She soon found out that the teaching life was not for her, and after a series of adventures has settled down in the Chicago suburbs, where she works for a telecommunications company.Alana lives alone, surrounded by books, pictures, a pile of story ideas, and a turtle named Pedro.

Book preview

The Priest’s Virgin Concubine

By Alana Church

Artwork by Moira Nelligar

Copyright 2020 Alana Church

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~~ All characters in this book are over 18. ~~

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Chapter 1: Help Wanted

Ah, Father Kelly. The wrinkled face of the secretary peered around the corner and into the waiting room. Come in. Bishop Whitford will see you now.

It really wasn’t fair, Justin Kelly thought, as he stood and made his way into the office of the Catholic Bishop of Peoria, that after four years of college and another four of seminary school, a priest still had to go through the process of applying for a position, the same as any other college graduate who left college with a diploma clutched in one fist and a pile of student loans in another.

You would think, he thought wryly, that after two thousand years the Church would have figured out a better way of doing things.

Father Kelly, My Lord. The secretary gave him a stern look, as if he were a child who couldn’t be trusted not to be rude, and closed the door behind her.

Kelly, yes. The gray-haired man behind the desk waved a hand. Sit, please.

Thank you, he hesitated. My Lord.

Bishop Whitford snorted softly. Melissa thinks that she has to remind everyone who comes in here of my exalted rank. Please. Sir will do. Bishop, if you must. Faded blue eyes twinkled. Or you could just call me John.

Yes, sir.

Good enough. He picked up a piece of paper. You come to us from Mundelein, eh?

Yes, sir.

Like it?

Very much, yes, sir.

Bishop Whitford looked at him over the rims of his glasses. His face was suddenly intent. And why do you want to be a priest, Father Kelly? Why should I put the souls which are my charge in your care?

Luckily, his seminary training had left him ready for this question. The priests at the University of St. Mary of the Lake, commonly known as Mundelein Seminary, didn’t let anyone graduate who didn’t have a vocation stronger than steel. And they spent many of their waking hours rooting out those who thought being a priest was a road to an easy life where the hardest thing you had to do was say mass every morning.

He leaned forward, trusting that his face would betray none of his inner nervousness. "I come from a family that has sent many men into the priesthood, sir. My own grand-uncle was our parish priest back home, before he passed away.

I first thought that I might have a calling when I was in middle school. By the time I was in high school, I was sure of it. It wasn’t a sudden revelation. I simply knew. That I was needed. That a life of service to God also meant a life of sacrifice, but that I was ready to lay my life down on His altar.

And what did your family have to say about this?

At first they thought it was just a phase. Something that I would grow out of, the same way young girls grow out of their fascination with boy bands as they grow older. He smiled in wry remembrance. "Even when I was in college, my mother kept asking me if I had met a nice girl yet, and I kept telling her that no, I hadn’t, because I was going to be a priest, Mom. He snorted. Sometimes I think she suspected that I was gay, and that wanting to be a priest was a cover-up."

Are you? Bishop Whitford asked mildly.

No. A single, flat word.

Whitford studied him, then nodded once. Good. I’m not saying being homosexual makes a man a child-molester. But some people can’t seem to distinguish between the two. And the good Lord knows we’ve had enough trouble where that’s concerned. I’d rather not have to deal with the fallout from that sort of thing, thank you very much.

I would think the better idea would be to get rid of the pedophiles who think that being a priest gives them an easy way to prey on the weak, Justin said.

Yes, yes. The bishop waved a hand vaguely. Unfortunately, they don’t come in here with ‘pervert’ flashing over their heads in bright red letters, son. His mouth set. So maybe you let me do my job, all right?

Justin took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, hiding his irritation. If the bishop noticed, he ignored it. Hmmm. Well and so. Your instructors at Mundelein speak well of you, true enough. ‘An agile and flexible mind,’ Professor Taub says. ‘A man who isn’t afraid to think for himself, or to say what he thinks.’ He grinned. Got into a few sparring matches with the old goat, did you?

Justin flushed, though part of it was pride. Professor Taub had been one of his professors in theology, and one who delighted in playing devil’s advocate, taking up contrary, sometimes even heretical positions, in order to sharpen his student’s skills. His sharp mind and acid wit made debating him a hazardous practice. But Justin had managed to pin him down a time or two. If every professor had been of his quality, sir, my time at Mundelein would have seemed much shorter.

"Or actually been much shorter, the bishop said with a laugh. God knows he doesn’t suffer fools gladly. Or at all. One of him is enough. Many more, and the dropout rate would triple overnight."

You know him, sir?

We went to graduate school together, when we were both a lot younger. He decided to stay on the academic path, while I went into administration. Pity, really. With a mind like his, he’d probably be an archbishop now. Maybe even a cardinal. Of course, he said, "maybe it’s for the best. Brian always hated the political side of things. All he wanted was to study and learn, and to pass what he learned on to others.

Well. The shrewd eyes studied him. We can definitely use you, Father Kelly. You probably know that it’s standard practice for a new priest to be sent to a larger parish. Preferably one with several other priests who can help him get his feet wet before he is given a parish of his own.

Justin nodded.

But I’ve got a bit of a problem on my hands. Whitford steepled his fingers. Tell me, young man. Have you ever heard of Fertile Valley?

His brows knitted. Fertile Valley? Illinois? No. It seemed a strange name for a town in a state that wasn’t exactly renowned for its high mountain peaks and lush valleys.

"Yes, Illinois. It’s a small town, well south of here, down near the rivers. Not a big place. Twenty-five hundred, maybe three thousand people. Farm town, you know? Set in their ways, don’t like change. Your people would mostly be German and Irish Catholics who came over from the old country two hundred years ago and haven’t moved since, with a few Swedes and Norwegians pitched in. They had the same parish priest for nearly forty years. But Father Snodgrass retired last fall and moved out to New Mexico.

Since then, I’ve sent three priests there. None of them lasted more than six weeks. He shook his head. "You get that, sometimes. A town just doesn’t take to the stranger, and I’m not going to make a man stay in a place where he’s not wanted. No one is happy, and before you know it, half the church has walked away and found someplace else to worship. Or decided that it would be a lot nicer to sleep late in Sundays.

Last week, after Father Cobden requested a transfer, I received a letter from the head of the Woman’s Auxiliary. Very polite it was, too, but it didn’t take too much to read between the lines. They want new blood, not an old priest who has bounced around half the country and isn’t good enough to settle anywhere. Someone, he lifted a piece of paper, and read, squinting, ‘someone who is not so set in his ways that it would take a forklift to get him out.’ He smiled mildly and put the paper down again.

Justin blinked. And you chose…me?

"Why not? You’re young, just out of the seminary, and you even have a talent for preaching a decent homily, if what I hear is true. I know it’s not a place where a young man with a lot of ambition goes, but there’s nothing that says you can’t request a transfer in a couple of years.

The older man leaned forward. "I’ll be honest, Justin. You’d be doing me a favor if you took this position. St. Catherine’s isn’t a troublesome parish. They’re good, hardworking people who don’t cause a lot of bother. Not like some parishes, where everyone starts screaming bloody murder every time a gay couple gets married. I just need someone who can mind the house for a