Bruno liked the sound his jackboots made as he walked across the floor of the cathedral. The solid click of hobnails against marble echoed through the church, drowning out the sound of quiet prayer coming from the few people still present. One man looked up to see Bruno standing nearby before crossing himself and quickly leaving. Bruno smiled. He liked the idea of his presence overwhelming this holy space and he took extra time to ensure that the noises he made reached the ceiling. He and a few of his men intentionally attended today’s service in full uniform, complete with armbands and pistols hanging from their belts. As more and more priests withheld Communion from those who served Germany, the message the Gestapo hoped to send was clear – “we did not arrest you, but we did not forget you.”
No, Bruno did not forget. He could not forget the face of Father Benedikt Veidt, one of the priests who stood at the altar and offered him the plain wafer towards the end of the service. Father Veidt locked eyes with Bruno and uttered something in Latin. Bruno did not understand, but perhaps his body did. His chest felt tight, as if it was full of air that had to escape through Bruno’s slackened jaw. Father Veidt placed the bread in Bruno’s mouth and for a moment, Bruno thought he could feel those fingertips pressing against his tongue, leaving a slight sweaty tang that he wanted to keep inside him. The taste – or perhaps it was a hallucination – vanished when Bruno was offered the wine and another round of words he could not understand. He wanted to stare more into Father Veidt’s hazel eyes, but he was pulled along by another officer, who grumbled about Bruno’s presence at the altar – he said that the other men should have held back, that non-Catholics were not supposed to be there, especially men with no religion at all. Perhaps the priests did not know how to spot an atheist because Father Veidt gave Bruno bread and wine, regardless of his spiritual beliefs (or his uniform.)
Bruno looked at the confession booth. Father Veidt had entered one side and drawn the curtain over himself. He’d been there ever since, waiting for people to enter the other side of the booth. Bruno had heard stories about what happened inside such places. The Catholics in the SS made confession seem easy – you said all the bad things you had done, the priest told you to do something, and you left. That’s what Father Veidt was waiting for, wasn’t it? He wanted to hear all the things that ran around Bruno’s head. The thought of it excited him.
Bruno entered the other side of the booth. The inside was dark, except for a thin ray of light that came through a crack in the curtain. Bruno sat on the bench against the back and rested his boots on the kneeler below the wooden wall and mesh window that separated him and Father Veidt. He could barely make out the priest’s features – the long, slightly upturned nose and a few strands of light brown hair were the only things Bruno could see clearly.
“Uh… hello.” Bruno’s mind went blank. He tried to conjure up what he’d read about how such things were done – there were words, weren’t there? Something he said to get Father Veidt to speak to him.
“Have you come seeking forgiveness, my child?” Father Veidt asked. His voice was melodious – a dramatic tenor who seemed to sing each word.
“Oh, yes. Sorry, it’s been a long time since I did confession.” Bruno lied. “I don’t remember it well.”
“That’s alright. God welcomes all children who return to him.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Confess your sins, my son.”
The sound of Father Veidt’s voice and the lingering taste of his fingertips made Bruno’s cock harden.
“Yes, Father.” Bruno looked down at his lap. “I… I’ve lied recently to others at my office.”
“Lied about what?”
“I told them that I was busy with something and couldn’t go out with them. I had other plans, which I could have told them, yeah, but I didn’t, only because I didn’t want to go.”
It was a half-truth. Bruno had told the men that he was heading home after the service, but he had simply walked around the church and re-entered once he was sure they had all left. It wasn’t in the spirit of confession, no, but if Father Veidt could not tell an atheist from a Catholic, he could not tell a liar from a truly penitent man.
“I see. It was not such a bad lie. You’re not obligated to spend every moment with your coworkers.”
“You’ll forgive me, though, right?”
“I do not forgive sins.” Father Veidt sounded slightly perturbed. “You are naming your sins before God and He will forgive you. I am here to listen on His behalf.”
“Yes, sorry.”
“It has been a very long time, hasn’t it, son?”
“Yeah.”
Father Veidt would listen to him. He would listen and respond to anything Bruno said. What a wonderful God this was. Bruno’s dick throbbed.
“I’m cheating on my wife, Father. I’m cheating on her all the time.”
“Who is drawing your attention away from your wife?”
“Men, Father. I’m always thinking about men.”
Another half-truth. There was no wife, but there were men. It was a secret Bruno kept inside himself for many, many years. Finally admitting it to someone felt good. A pleasurable tingle ran up Bruno’s cock and his hips bucked unintentionally.
”Are you sure it’s only your thoughts?” Father Veidt asked.
“Which is worse, Father? Thinking about men or being with men?”
Father Veidt paused.
“Do you-“
"Which is worse?"
Father Veidt paused again.
"Thoughts are not the same as actions-"
“I sodomize them, Father. I find them in the park after work and I sodomize them.”
Yet another half-truth, but Bruno didn’t care. He undid his pants and stroked his cock. His eyes stayed locked on the faint light on Father Veidt’s side of the confessional. Bruno could not make out Father Veidt’s expression, nor did he care what it might be. Father Veidt would stay there. Listening to him. Every dirty thing Bruno wanted, had ever wanted and done, now had a captive audience that would listen and wait and keep inside himself. A pervert listening to the dirty thoughts of any man who needed his company. Bruno stifled a moan.
”How often do you sleep with men?” Father Veidt asked. He sounded concerned.
”As often as I can. Sometimes twice a night.”
“Do you intend to stop cheating on your wife?”
“I don’t know if I could.” Bruno grunted. “It feels good to be with men. Men have strong hands, they know how to touch and fondle another man properly.”
“Forgiveness is useless unless you intend to stop sinning. It’s not enough to confess.”
“Why did God make me like this?” Bruno’s voice cracked as he begged. “Why would God make my cock stand up when I hear a man cry out in pain?”
Bruno stroked his cock faster. The pleasure building up inside him was so strong that he nearly doubled over. His other hand reached down and stroked his balls, which were still tucked inside his underwear. They were tightening in anticipation.
“You-“
“I fuck men and I want to fuck men. I don’t want to make children, I want to laugh at my barren wife, I want to waste myself on a crying man’s face. I hope it seeps into his eyes and blinds him before I rape his mouth, choke him to death…”
Bruno came, thick globs that spurted up and ran over his fingers. He did his best to squeeze every drop out. He wanted the pleasure of confessing to these thoughts to continue forever, even as his dick became oversensitive. The only sound he heard was his own slight pant – he couldn’t even hear Father Veidt’s breath.
“My son, this a serious offense.” Father Veidt said at last. “Is that everything you came to tell me?"
“That’s all. I am sorry for these and all my sins.” Bruno lied.
“It does not matter if you are sorry. What matters is that you will stop.”
“I will. I had to tell someone so I could feel strong enough to stop.”
Again, a half-truth. Father Veidt sighed as Bruno tucked away his cock and adjusted his pants to hide the cum stains.
“Tell your wife about your infidelity and do ten full rosaries to remind yourself of how you should be dedicated to God. Then never go near the park again.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Do you remember the Act of Contrition?”
“No, Father.”
“Repeat after me: O My God, I am heartily sorry-“
Bruno didn’t stay any longer. He wiped his cum off on the mesh between them. It dripped down the side as he pulled back the curtain and left quickly, making sure to stomp on the floor as he left. He wanted the echo of his boots to reverberate through the sanctuary for hours after he was gone.
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