The pastor admonishes Marigold.

Marigold wanted to die. How had Pastor Michael even found her here? A convention like this just wasn't his 'scene,' so why was he here? Had he been looking for Marigold? Had he somehow heard about what she had been doing all day? As she stared into the reverend's eyes, a thousand questions flittered through Marigold's head. She held her breath, waiting for him to say anything at all, horribly aware the whole time of how exposed she was in her costume and how obvious it was what was on her face.

Pastor Michael narrowed his eyes. The look of disgust that he had been wearing on his face has morphed into one that looked like hate to poor Mari. She was very nearly cowering under his gaze. Without breaking eye contact, Reverend Michael reached over to the elevator's control panel and turned the stop switch. The elevator groaned as it slowed to a halt partway up the shaft, isolating the two churchgoers from the main convention hall and the hotel.

"What are you wearing, young lady?" he said coldly. "And what is on your face?" That was the one question that Marigold hoped that she wouldn't have to answer to anyone, but now she was trapped in an elevator with a man she held in the highest esteem.

Marigold looked at the floor. She felt like a child being scolded by her parent. Unfortunately for her, looking down meant looking at her exposed cleavage, which was still dripping with Harry's cum, the small, slutty costume, and her bare legs. Before today, she never would have imagined being in an outfit like this. Before today, though, she never would have imagined letting a strange, lecherous man penetrate her with a vibrator-- so this day had to be one of many shameful firsts.

"Is that a man's seed on your face, Ms. Markov?" Pastor Michael had seen right through her, and he knew everything that she had done. How had she ever thought that she could get out of this situation with her dignity intact? "Are you some kind of common whore? You skipped church this week to come to this place of sin and whore yourself out to any man that asks."

Marigold wanted to speak up, to tell the Reverend that she had been manipulated and taken advantage of. But while that was true, the fact of the matter was that her legs were still weak from the multiple orgasms that she had given herself and that Harry had given her. Pastor Michael was right, she had become a whore.

"Yes," she murmured. "I'm sorry." She didn't look up at Michael, knowing that her life was already ruined by what she had done that day.

Pastor Michael looked down at the cum-splattered, scantily-clad church girl that stood before him. "That's good," he said. He still sounded angry. "But there's only one way for you to repent, child."