Corrupted by the Priest E-Book

Amélie Moigne

• Herausgeber: Ô Plaisir - INT
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 182

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Clara catches her boyfriend Alexandre in bed with her best friend. Refusing to let it break her, she accepts a teaching position in Montpellier at the private Nevers High School, where she meets Jonathan, the school's pastoral priest. It’s the beginning of an indecent dance of temptation and desire that will lead Clara to unexpected pleasures.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Amélie Moigne has no age—she is a free spirit, a writer of pleasures born from her thoughts. Her novels are the indecent scenarios she shares with delight with her readers... After her best-seller, “Submitting to Her Husband’s Assistant”, she now reveals a new addictive novel.

Leseprobe

Cover

Title page

Prologue

Before leaving for vacation, I was utterly drained. As a teacher, I often dream of slapping my students and telling them to shut up. But apparently, education is supposed to be kind and corporal punishment is no longer allowed. What a shame. Some slaps are truly wasted.

Between Sébastien, the class clown who will pull a thousand stunts to make his friends laugh; Yanis, who has decided he won’t lift a finger and will disrupt the lesson; or Mélanie, who shows up late and greets you with “Yo, Miss, sorry, I was with my boyfriend, you know… ”–I feel like screaming. Like letting out a primal cry from the depths of my gut and just ending them all. But these days, parents are always hovering, making sure the teacher isn’t bullying their precious little darlings. It’s exhausting! School has become nothing more than a daycare where parents dump their offspring for some peace and quiet. Am I negative? Oh no, just very realistic about the situation.

Anyway, I won’t keep complaining and should probably introduce myself.

My name is Clara Cazenave, and I teach history and geography at the Louise Michel Polyvalent High School in Narbonne. I’m about to turn 32. A while ago, my fiancé, Alexandre, convinced me to apply for a private high school in the city. He teaches there too. I’m not into the whole Catholic thing, let alone the religious lifestyle, and neither is my partner. He works there for slightly better pay and because discipline is much more respected. He’s sung the praises of the strict environment, the high standards, etc., etc., so many times that I finally gave in. For a long time, I was the idealistic teacher: wanting to help students, to be that teacher who sparks some kind of revelation or whatnot. But I’ve finally surrendered.

Beyond feeling unsupported by the national education system, I’ve lost my passion. So, I took the necessary steps to become a teacher in a private high school. I did everything by the book, and my next school year will begin at the religious institution where Alexandre works. Everything is perfect, and for now, my only task is to enjoy the rest of my vacation.

I spent a few days with my sister–it’s a tradition we’ve upheld for over ten years. After our parents passed away, we promised to spend at least one week of vacation together every year, going to the same campground we used to visit with them as kids. Every summer, depending on our schedules, we travel to the Basque Country, to the Soubelet Beach Campground in Saint-Jean-de-Luz, to spend time together. I must admit, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Beyond loving the time with my sister, these vacations feel new every year. Even though I know the place by heart, I always look forward to it.

It’s our family time. When we have kids, we’ll bring them along. For now, she’s single, and my partner couldn’t come. His mother is struggling to cope with her husband’s death, and he didn’t want to leave her side. I understand. He himself hasn’t been quite the same lately. He’s holding it together, I know, and he’s “fine, ” but he’s churning inside. We’ve talked about it; he’s opened up to me. His pain, his loneliness, the little things he misses. I’m in a good position to understand, having lost both my parents. However, today, he doesn’t know it yet, but I’m coming home. We were supposed to stay three weeks, but an unexpected issue called my sister back to work. She works for a large import-export company managing trucks across Europe. Her vacation replacement caught COVID. Apparently, the virus is surging again, and her stand-in has been hospitalized. Just when I thought we were done with all that… I hope we won’t have to go back to masks and all that chaos. It’s unbearable day-to-day.

Anyway, with no one to cover for her, she was called back. And I’m heading home because I don’t feel like spending a week alone at the campground. I caught the first train to Narbonne, picked up my car from the station parking lot, and headed home. I’m bringing Alexandre all the Basque specialties he loves–I hope it’ll make him happy.

This week, he sounded a bit off on the phone. I think seeing me will do him good. Me and my goodies…

I already miss the Basque Country, though. I love that place. One day, as I’ve always said, I’ll move back to my grandparents’ original village…

Chapter 1

As I enter the building, I hear the bells of the Saint-Just and Saint-Pasteur Cathedral ringing at noon. I hope lunch is ready. Considering how hungry I am, that would be ideal. On the way, I’ve been wondering what my little chef might have cooked up. Alexandre is a culinary wizard. Me? I’d say I manage, as long as it’s a frozen meal from Picard or something similar. It’s not that I can’t cook; I just don’t particularly enjoy it. And I’m not interested in it.

I’m so hungry I could eat a horse! My stomach growls softly as I step into the lobby. We live in an old building. The hallway smells a bit musty, with dampness seeping up from the cellars. Yet, I can clearly detect the scent of bleach and lavender from the cleaning products the janitor uses. She must have cleaned recently; the smell will fade quickly, as always.

Out of habit, I check the mailbox. The mailman has been by, but there’s nothing interesting inside. Some car dealership flyers, one or two bills–nothing worth noting.

As I lift my head, I meet the gaze of Agnès Bettina. I smile and greet her.

“Ah, I thought you might be back… ”

I furrow my brow as she gives me a mischievous little look. The old woman is nearly ninety and has a bit of a Betty White vibe. It often makes me smile. I find her full of life and radiant. Honestly, just running into her is enough to lift my spirits.

That said, I decide not to dwell on her comment and head up to the fifth floor, taking the elevator. It’s too hot for cardio…

Outside, it’s a heatwave. No surprise–it’s late July. My short, lightweight dress doesn’t stop me from sweating like crazy.

Enclosed in the small metal cabin, the reflection in the elevator’s glass is unflattering. My black hair falls in waves around my face, sticking to my neck, and while the subtle makeup around my brown almond-shaped eyes hasn’t run, it’s no longer fresh. I notice the top of my tunic is a bit sheer–I’m not wearing a bra, and I can see the dark outline of my nipples through the white fabric with blue flowers. Well, maybe it’s just the harsh lighting in the metal cabin. Worst case, it’s just a pair of breasts. It’s not like I have the biggest chest in the world anyway…

Reflexively, I turn to check if my thong is visible. But the nude color saves me; you can’t really make out my butt…

I end up shrugging. I’m not an exhibitionist, but I’m not going to stress over something so trivial. I haven’t drawn any excessive attention, and even if I had, I’m not overly modest. I believe people get worked up about nudity and such far too easily. I don’t understand it. The more fuss you make, the bigger a deal it becomes! Not caring helps put things into perspective and avoid unnecessary worry.

I step out of the elevator and quietly enter my apartment. I plan to surprise Alexandre all the way through, certain it’ll do him good. My poor sweetheart needs a little sparkle in his life. I’m not saying I’m the light at the end of his tunnel, but I know he’ll be happy. A big reunion hug, a little sticky moment thanks to the heatwave–it’ll be perfect!

I leave my shoes and suitcase in the entryway and sneak through the apartment to find him. As I slip down the hallway, the delicious smell of food hits me. Everything’s ready. I fight the hunger clawing at me as the aroma of chicken fills the air and continue my search.

Strange, he’s not in the living room. Or the kitchen. I didn’t see him as I passed by. Did he go out? Leaving food cooking? That’s not like him–he’s not that careless.

He must be in the bathroom. I’ll surprise him. I head toward the bathroom door, but muffled noises coming from the bedroom make me pause.

A smile spreads across my lips. I can’t believe he’s watching porn! Then again, it’s understandable. I think we all have our little secrets, and our bodies are our own. Maybe he suddenly felt the urge and decided to take care of it.

A little solo session never hurt anyone. Of course, I want to tease him, so I abandon my stealthy approach and walk boldly toward the bedroom. Stifling a laugh, I fling the door open.

What a sight…

I thought I’d find Alexandre with his phone in one hand and his… well, you know, in the other. I thought… I don’t even know what I thought. No sound escapes my lips–there’s nothing to say…

He’s facing me, but he’s not alone. My heart pounds in my chest, creating a deafening noise. I want to say something, but nothing comes. His cock is buried in the pussy of a girl whose face is twisted in pleasure. My body is frozen, my stomach churns, and my hunger vanishes. He’s gripping her hips, dripping with sweat, his slight belly pressed against her ass. They both stare at me with dumbfounded expressions, realizing I’m standing there, right in front of them.

My vision blurs, and I don’t know what to do.

“Cla… Clara… it’s… it’s not what you think.”

My best friend squeaks out these words, trying to cover her sagging breasts, which sway under gravity. Her heavy nipples bounce every which way. I step back. I don’t want to see this; I don’t want to face this. My legs tremble–if I fall, I won’t get back up, and yet I refuse to stay here. So, I take off running–fast–only realizing when I’m already outside that I’m barefoot, sprinting down the street, as far, far away from this mess as I can get!

Chapter 2

My mother-in-law told me:

“It’s his father’s death–it shook him up. He made a mistake; he wasn’t himself… ”

That sentence keeps replaying in my mind as I drive the small rental truck toward my new home. I can’t forgive him. Some people think I’m difficult, that I should be more understanding. But I have no desire to understand.

I can’t accept being betrayed like that. He was screwing my best friend, and from what I’ve gathered–thanks to my neighbor–it wasn’t a one-time thing.

My friends lowered their eyes when I told them what happened. That’s when I realized they knew. So, I moved in with my sister. At first, she acted as a go-between to protect me. But I quickly took control. Yes, I was cheated on, but I’m not incapable of handling things. I’m not a child, and I never will be. I want to believe this is just another mess I can face.

As I overtake a red car on the highway, I feel calm. Things have been chaotic; everything changed so quickly. But an opportunity came my way, and I seized it. Initially, I was supposed to join Alexandre’s school in the fall. Talk about anxiety. Working with him, being around him–I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. But the principal of the Nevers private school contacted me with an offer.

After the untimely death of a beloved teacher at his school, he needed someone to replace him. I said yes without hesitation.

I listened as he spoke about his school and the teacher. His sorrowful tone moved me–I’m not made of stone. He warned me that my first days would be in a somber back-to-school atmosphere, as some students were deeply affected by the teacher’s passing. Mr. Briche, the deceased, was heavily involved in the school. His funeral was attended by many teenagers. Clearly, these aren’t my former students. They would’ve only shown up hoping to make the best TikTok video!

His death allows me to start fresh. I wouldn’t say I’m grateful to him, but in a way, I am. Still, I would’ve preferred to begin in a lighter atmosphere, but no matter. I retrieved some belongings from my place, going when Alexandre wasn’t home. I filled the rental truck with the help of some of my sister’s friends, updated my address, and prepared for my new chapter. There’s no point in wallowing in life…

After ten years together and seven years living under the same roof, starting over alone isn’t easy, but I’m handling it well. I’d rather be alone than poorly accompanied. I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt. Honestly, my heart is broken, but it wasn’t as painful as losing my parents! He’s still alive; I could see him again. He’s simply exiting my life because our paths no longer align.

So, I swallowed my pain and digested it. Maybe a bit too quickly, but it’s for the best! Even if I’m slightly fooling myself, I’m convinced this is the right approach. What else could I do, anyway? Dwell on it? Cry? Drown my sorrows in tubs of ice cream? No, that’s not my style.

Today, I’m moving into my new apartment. I’m not doing it alone. My sister is here, singing loudly in the passenger seat and belting out a Céline Dion song. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, amused. At least she has the knack for making me smile.

We look alike without being identical–tall and brunette, with slightly square chins and large, well-shaped mouths. When we smile, we could charm the devil himself. I inherited our father’s brown eyes, while she has our mother’s azure blue ones. Sometimes I’m jealous, but only superficially. We’re both beautiful women…

She hands me her imaginary “microphone, ” expecting me to join her in singing Where You Lead. Giving in to this kind of silliness often leads to us singing at the top of our lungs. It might bring the rain, but oh well, I give in, and soon we’re performing an impromptu, heartfelt duet. It feels so good, damn it!

My sister is my rock, just as I am hers. I love her. Together, we’re nearly invincible, and I’m sad to be moving away from her. Thankfully, she’s promised to visit whenever she feels like it, and I know she will! Now that I’m single, she won’t bother calling before showing up. Far from being intrusive, she knows she can do whatever she wants now. That’s fine by me, and it’s fine by her…

We finally arrive at my new place. Since the school hired me on short notice, they offered me an apartment in the old convent buildings. The school belongs to a religious group, and the site used to be a convent. Its renovation preserved many of the original features. They built something new around the old.

My apartment is a bit outdated but perfectly livable. I didn’t turn down the offer, especially since the rent is more than affordable, and it’s only temporary. The school is enormous; the principal gave me a brief tour a few days ago. It’s beautiful, clean, and equipped with many modern, impeccable facilities. It’s a dream to work somewhere without needing to stock up on chalk! And I’m only slightly exaggerating. Most of the classrooms are equipped with digital boards. I’m going to love it here.

The apartment overlooks an older section with its own entrance. The building houses administrative offices and other apartments, including one for the priest in charge of pastoral care, Jonathan Etcheverry.

I believe there are still a few elderly nuns living in a small part of the old cloister. They teach catechism classes, from what I understand. It doesn’t bother me as long as I’m not forced to play the devout believer. I’m not particularly religious. I suppose I’ll have to pretend a little. After all, I did answer “yes” to the question: Are you a practicing Catholic?

I know, lying isn’t great, but I needed this job and didn’t want to risk it over something so minor.

As we unload the truck, my sister whistles appreciatively–the place is genuinely nice, and her reaction confirms it. I’m still a bit awestruck at the idea of living on school grounds, but I see it as temporary. They’ve been generous; the principal assured me I wouldn’t be asked to leave until I found something else. If I have to stay here all year, so be it. It’s nice, but I’ll still look for another place. I don’t like the idea of taking advantage of this. Even though I’m paying rent, I feel it’s a small privilege I don’t want to overuse.

My phone buzzes as I open the truck doors. I glance at the message. My face hardens, and my mood darkens.

“Ugh, this is so annoying.”

“What’s wrong? ”

I hand my phone to my sister, letting her read the text from Agathe, my former mother-in-law. She wishes me a good move, congratulates me on the new job, and asks if I’ve really thought everything through. Alexandre isn’t doing well; she’s trying to guilt-trip me, saying he’s struggling and I should understand. She piles on with mentions of her husband’s death, accusing me of being too harsh. It’s exhausting. I’ve always prided myself on being a woman of principle. He cheated on me throughout my vacation–I wouldn’t call that a spur-of-the-moment mistake. To me, he wanted to do it, and he did. I couldn’t figure out how long it had been going on. I asked, but I got no answers. I believe that bitch Sarah took advantage of the situation, just as he didn’t hold himself to any moral standard. Even the best can be fooled, and that’s what happened to me.

I think I’ll never truly know the full truth. Who would dare tell me, anyway? So, I don’t let it eat away at me, and I don’t dig deeper. It happened, end of story.

“She’s so annoying. I don’t see why you should forgive him.”

“Exactly. He knows me.”

“And they slept together more than once… ”

“From what the old lady upstairs told me, yes, clearly.”

“I bet Agnès is giving him one of her looks… ”

I chuckle at the thought. I’ll miss my little neighbor; she often texts me to ask how I’m doing. She doesn’t mention Alexandre–she just checks in on me, and I do the same. She even gave me a beautiful potted plant, artificial but so realistic you’d be fooled.

“Oh, you’re not great with plants, you told me, but you love them, so… ”

I was touched. Her birthday is coming up soon, and I’ll send her a little gift: two concert tickets for Matt Pokora. She’s crazy about him, and I know she’ll be thrilled.

“She said she’d wear heels just to annoy him.”

My sister laughs, and I join in as I grab a box. It’s time to move into my new home and settle in.

Chapter 3

My new home is a charming two-bedroom apartment, formerly offices that have been repurposed. It’s not modern at all. The floors are covered in slightly outdated tiles, and the wallpaper is from another era, but I appreciate the vintage vibe. I’m not going to be picky–when you’re given a gift horse, you don’t look it in the mouth.

I’m fond of this little place. Some furniture was already here, which complements my own pieces nicely. It’s ideal since I haven’t replaced everything yet.

The living room has a modern TV and a slightly stiff, worn-out burgundy sofa from the 1950s. I like it. It has character and reminds me of my grandparents’ old couch. I think I’ll keep it instead of bringing in something modern, just for that reason.

My large bookshelf fits in easily, which is a relief because I have so many books. Organizing it was one of the first things I did.

I feel good here, with the large windows overlooking the courtyard.

I’ve hung curtains to block the view. The windows are reflective from the outside, but I prefer having sheer curtains–it’s a psychological thing.

The kitchen is a long room with a city gas stove and a separate oven. There’s a small fridge and plenty of cabinets, which is more than enough for one person. Anyway, I’m not much of a cook, so I don’t need state-of-the-art equipment. My old friend, the microwave, is the only crucial addition I’ve made. Without it, how would I heat up my delicious frozen meals?

I have a lovely bathroom with a rectangular pastel pink porcelain bathtub. It’s quite kitschy, and let’s not even talk about the bidet! I don’t think I’ve seen one in years!

Two large bedrooms complete the space, one of which I’ve turned into my office. I set up my Ikea desk and installed the super-comfy chair that goes with it. As a teacher, this room will be my refuge, my fortress of solitude, an ESSENTIAL part of my daily life.

In my bedroom, I’ve kept things very basic: just a mattress on the floor. Yes, I need to take the time to order a bed and assemble it, but as long as I have a mattress, the rest is secondary. Thankfully, a massive closet takes up an entire wall, so I don’t need to buy a wardrobe!

There’s also a little storage room near the entrance that’s already a mess, but that’s normal–it’s the kind of space meant for chaos!