..her fingers were slick with her moisture and salty to his taste, he sucked the tips in through his lips as she sucked him in through her lips. The warmth of her mouth made his cock swell further, she teased the hole in the end with her tongue, swirling it around the head, lapping at the ridge around his sensitive helmet. He moaned again, twisting his fingers into her hair pulling her onto his stiffened member, pressing deeper into her throat, his hips starting to roll as she sucked him harder. His hands slipped to the side of her head and took a firm hold as he started to fuck her mouth, he was lost in his own wanton lust when the confessional door creaked slightly open, he looked up as he felt long talon like nails clawing into his buttocks, Sister Mary was vibrating her throat muscles as she kept the full length of the priest's cock in her mouth. Father Douleur felt her nails scrape across his abdomen, red tramlines appeared on his belly above his pubic area. Through the crack in the door he could see a large mirror, suddenly he stopped mid-thrust, Sister Mary had no reflection, he felt the vacuum building around the base of his cock, preventing him from pulling away, he was trapped by a demoness.
In a mixture of fear and panic he looked down at the top of the her head, his first thought was to push her away but the sucking, squeezing pleasure that he was experiencing was fighting off the feelings of revulsion, he was hers, she was in control. Slowing her movements down 'Sister Mary' kept the priest in her mouth, her long nailed fingers reached between his legs cupping his balls in the palm of her hand, rolling the orbs through her fingers, he moaned in delight as her rhythm increased. The twisting fingers keeping pace with her deep swallowing mouth, now she had him fully in between her lips the tip of his cock hovering at the back of her throat. Faster she sucked until she could feel him stiffen and the shaft swell, she crushed her face to his stomach taking his whole length in, the first jet of semen hit the back of her throat, she didn't gag but squeezed her hand tightly shut, his moans gave way to a scream as blood dripped through her clenched fingers, his cock was still ejaculating fiercely as he writhed to try to break her vice like grip. She drank his come as he emptied his aching balls into her greedy throat, it felt like she was physically crushing the last drops out of him. She released her grip on the priest and he fell back into the chair, as he lay there she fitted a harness of black leather around his cock and balls, pulling it tight she tugged at a leading rein, "Come on Father, my car is waiting outside and I have a special place set aside for you." Staggering to his feet she led him out into the church and, pulling at the lead, down the aisle.
Father Douleur followed his tormentor from the church seemingly unable to resist. She led him like a subdued puppy to a waiting Bentley, the faceless figure sat in the driver's seat didn't move as she guided her new pet into the rear of the large black saloon. Inside a heady mixture of scents filled the priests nostrils, the leather from the luxurious seats mixed with her perfume, a faint trace of sulphur added to the fragrance but he was aware of another aroma one that he couldn't recognise. The words of Madonna's 'Like a Prayer' drifted around the cabin, he tried to listen to the words:
When you call my name it's like a little prayer
I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there
In the midnight hour I can feel your power
Just like a prayer you know I'll take you there
I hear your voice, it's like an angel sighing
I have no choice, I hear your voice
Feels like flying
I close my eyes, Oh God I think I'm falling
Out of the sky, I close my eyes
Heaven help me
Sister Mary had climbed in next to him and was stroking her nails over his thighs and stomach, the strange scent was cloying to him almost sickly sweet. Sitting still as stone he felt, rather than saw, the turn of her shoulders as she moved towards him. A flash of scarlet lip gloss passed his vision before her mouth descended towards his. He remembered the soft moist press and the slow incursion of her tongue before he was overwhelmed and passed into a dark world of unconsciousness troubled by demonic visions of biblical proportions.
It was the pain in his shoulders that roused him from his stupor, a dark stone wall filled his field of vision, rough hewn blocks tinged with green producing no heat their mere appearance causing him to shiver. His arms were above his shoulders and as he lifted his head he saw the source of his discomfort, his hands were bound with rope and he was suspended by a meat-hook from a wooden beam. The priest cast his gaze down over his naked body to where his feet were dangling inches above a slab floor. He tried hard to focus on a memory, an incident, anything that would help him remember how he had got there, but it was the strange heady scent that kept returning to haunt him. Behind him he heard the creak of a door being opened and a rush of air rippled across his unprotected torso, slow even steps entered the room and paced out of sight.
Down his spine he could feel something rough yet pliable being dragged across each vertebrae, it slowed into the small of his back before tracing the curve of each buttock. He felt it dip under his ass and stroke between the top of his thighs just grazing the sensitive underside of his scrotum. His tormentor remained out of sight as he attempted to twist and turn around. The instrument of irritation moved forward around the top of his thigh, he looked down to see the coil of a leather whip circling the quadricep on his leg, as he watched the handle came into view, it's plaited grip held firmly by long fingers crowned with red painted nails almost like the talons of a bird of prey grasping it's quarry. His helpless body started to sway slightly as the pressure of the touch pushed against him, the owner of the hand stalked into his vision, for a second he didn't recognise her.
She was wearing a long black trench coat, tied loosely at the waist, her legs, which showed through the open front of the coat each time she paced, were encased in long black boots with a high narrow heel, her dark auburn hair flowed onto the collar of the coat and framed her face, full red lips, glossed and glistening, the pink tip of her tongue moistening their surface before she spoke.
"Welcome to MY church" There was irony in her voice as she stood looking up at his face. It was then the priest realised this was the same woman from the confessional, Sister Mary, but nun's weren't supposed to behave like this.
"Who are you?" he asked quietly.
Her face turned to him and a smile spread the scarlet mouth
"I am the first wife of Adam, the mother of all demons"
The belt of the coat loosened as she spoke and the coat fell open, the black gaping wide enough to expose a full cleavage of ivory coloured breasts and an inverted triangle of dark pubic curls. Father Douleur's eyes were drawn to her, they devoured her body, flashing up her legs and over her stomach passing her chest to her throat then back down. As he looked he felt his cock stiffening, he tried to take his mind off her but she captivated him, drawing him deeper into her web of desire.
She came forward to him and ran the whip over his stiffening member, raking a solitary nail along the underside of his swollen shaft making it twitch and jump. The priests eyes closed as she took a firm hold around the base of his now full erection. Suddenly he felt a constriction, she was refitting the harness that she had used to pull him from the church and she was tightening it…
The harness bit into his cock, he winced as it's noose gripped harder, when she was satisfied she took the lead in her hand and pulled, he swung easily on his arms bringing his cock level with her tits. Keeping the leash taut she opened the coat exposing the stiff red nipples that were protruding from the paler skin of her breasts, she moved closer rubbing the peaks across his groin, pressing her softness to his hardness. She kept up a slow grinding rhythm like a cat rubbing itself on a post, the friction of skin on skin was building a heat at the top of his thighs that was mirrored by the rise in his lust, as she moved over him her lips travelled to his stomach kissing the muscles through his skin, her teeth nibbled and bit around his navel, she was keeping him on the edge, between pleasure and pain.
One hand slipped between his legs searching for the soft globes hidden in their own sac, she manipulated the balls squeezing them and rolling them through the fingers of her hand. All the while she was playing with his testicles her lips were getting closer to his stalk, suspended he could feel her hot breath on the end of his throbbing penis, the strap constricting the blood flow adding to the heightened sensations of desire. Her broad flat tongue uncurled from her scarlet lips, flickering momentarily against the plum coloured head of his cock before she slowly ran it's rough surface over the shaft's straining skin, as she licked lower she brought his balls in between her hungry lips, her teeth grazing the loose skin as she sucked on the orbs, his odour heavy in her nostrils, wiry hair tickling her cheeks.
She pulled the leash again making the noose smaller, the strap tighter, his erection harder, his pain sharper, her control firmer, her pleasure deeper. A long low groan crept up from the pit of his stomach and echoed from his vocal chords as he felt the warm moist cavity of her mouth engulf him, she swallowed deeply easing him into her throat as her lips passed down his length to meet the strap at it's base. Rising back up she dragged her teeth along every inch of the purple stem, until she reached the ridge of the helmet where she clamped her lips around it like she was sucking a large strawberry, her tongue worked furiously inside her mouth swirling around the tip dipping into the hole at the extreme end. Again and again she repeated the routine, consuming him totally then easing back to the lightest touch, each time getting faster then faster.
Father Douleur was experiencing so many emotions; his head was swimming, his guilt and yearning conflicting in his mind, his pain and pleasure clashing yet converging at the same time. Lights were flashing behind his eyes and electric shocks ran through his muscles as he started an ejaculatory spasm, he could feel his scrotum contracting within her grip the stored fluid boiling and ready to issue. Her head bobbed with increased speed as he began to come, his body shuddered as tremors consumed his legs, he quivered like a puppet but the climax of his release was held in abeyance by the strap. Sensing his closeness his tormentor wrapped her other hand around him and rubbed vigorously, pulling and tugging at the same time roughly massaging his balls. With a strangled cry he came hard, the strap kept his semen trapped as his cock jerked and twitched in her fast moving fist.
"FUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK" he screamed as he went through a series of dry orgasms. Her hand kept milking him until she felt it cease twitching, she slowed down and looked at his cock, rubbed almost raw it still stood stiffly in front of her, a single translucent drop of come, like a pearl, glistened on the tip before she flicked out the tip of her tongue to lap up the bead. His head fell forward onto his heaving chest as she stepped back from him, like Adam before him the priest had succumbed to her power, now as he drifted into restless sleep, surrounded by her soporific scent, she prepared to harvest his seed.
Again he stirred from a restless stupor, depraved images ensuring that his slumber was not to be a restful one. He looked around him, familiar surroundings, his heart leapt...it had all been a dream, he was back in his church. In fact he was lying on his altar, he could see the trappings of religion; crucifixes, chalice, candles, all where they should be. The sudden searing pain across his chest brought him back to reality, his vision focused on a pair of scarlet lips moulded into a cruel smile. "Wakey, Wakey Father" her teasing words confirmed that he was not a victim of an overactive imagination. The pain had been inflicted by her nails scouring welts into his flesh, fresh blood was trickling over his chest and, from her position perched over his hips, she traced patterns in it with her fingers.
"Leave me alone...please" Father Douleur pleaded with her.
"I can never leave you" she smiled "I'll be with you forever"
For this part of the temptation the demoness had changed into a plain, virginal white, shift dress of soft cotton. The light of the candles gave the dress a translucent quality that accentuated the curves of her waist, hips and breasts, the deep brown of her nipples clearly visible as they pressed through the fabric. She lowered herself over his thighs, the white material cascading over his legs and hips and falling across the heavy damask altar cloth. He tried to rise but his limbs were bound with ropes that disappeared over the edge of the altar sides.
A grasping hand was moving through the folds of cotton towards his groin, it sought out his penis, caressing and rubbing the tired flesh. He closed his eyes, mentally resisting her attentions, he wanted to be strong to fight her but it felt so good, she had him under her control. She gently played with his flaccid shaft, gradually making it firmer, enticing the blood to flow along it's length, filling the vessels, making it swell and stiffen. She slid forward, her pussy hovering over where her hand gripped his stiff stalk, slowly she settled onto his cock. She let out a long sigh as she pressed down, letting the cock fill her. The priest was unable to do anything to prevent her movement, rising and falling rhythmically, squeezing her buttocks together to lift her up his shaft before dropping down it again. He tried to block out the image of her intensifying her pace by clasping his eyes tightly closed. More pain,
"Don't you like what you see?" again the cruel smile, she was holding a large candle over him, dripping the molten wax into the cuts she had inflicted on him earlier. Her hips were moving faster and her breasts bounced inside the dress, the friction between skin and cotton making her nipples stand proud of her swaying globes drawing his eyes hypnotically to them. Faster and faster she bucked on him, her vaginal muscles rippling and gripping his cock with each thrust. She could feel his cock growing harder and knew that he was near coming, her pelvis thrust back and forth as she fucked him harder and harder. Her hands gripped the hem of her dress rucking it up into a ball on her stomach, exposing the junction of their coupling to the cool air of the church and his sight. He watched with a mixture of revulsion and fascination as his cock slid rapidly between her pussy lips time and time again. Finally he could hold back no longer and his hips rose to meet her, thrusting himself against her as he ejaculated.
'Sister Mary' flung the candle to the floor and dug her nails into his chest as she went into her own spasming climax. Her slick wet pussy was swallowing every thick spurt of cum that shot from his inflamed cock. Father Douleur shuddered as she drained more and more semen from his exhausted body. She lifted herself from him and descended from the altar, she pressed the palms of her hands into his chest, smearing his blood as she rubbed her hands over him. "I'll be with you forever" she whispered into his ear. 'Sister Mary' turned and glided down the aisle to the door, a new generation forming within her. Another, like her, to prey on the weakness of Man.
Father Douleur would be found the next morning, a broken, rambling shell. He would be taken to the local hospital, here his bishop would visit him and listen to his story. The diocesan council would decide the priest had had a breakdown and place him in a shelter for retired clerics. After the Cardinal visited and listened to the priests nightmare he is placed in a secure home 'for his own safety'. In this place each room is occupied by a priest who quietly sees out his days in isolation but all the residents hear the whisper in the corridors "I'll be with you forever"
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