Chapter 4

It did not wait.

I realised later that it could have taken me at any point. That everything until now was a curious game of consent—or perhaps something baser, like a play at humiliation. There was a vulnerability in asking for it, begging for it. The first time I had ever spoken the truth so willingly.

I knew immediately it would want me like that again. Pathetic and begging and praying until I was invoking it the way I would God.

The prince dropped my head and moved its hands to my waist. I sighed, eyes rolling closed. Those hands wrapped all the way around me, fingers nearly able to lace together. But it slowly pressed its claws into my abdomen, pressing so firmly the organs began to bulge around the demon’s fingers.

It will gut you, I thought. Bishop Jonah thought. It will gut you. It will fuck your insides. It will leave you to die.

I imagined briefly what that would be like. The vivisection, belly torn open, and organs exposed and steaming. I imagined pain giving way to a perverse pleasure, a cock slipping over the looping heat of my intestines, and I found myself wondering if it would keep my vessel holy. If this kind of desecration, where my ass remained unfucked, and my cock untouched, would still allow me to take God’s love and hold it firmly in my hands.

Heaven won’t touch you. Not when you want this so badly.

The prince could do whatever it wanted to me. I was helpless to stop it—a thrilling thought. I was prey, then; my mind slipped towards that instinct. With my heart thundering and my back growing slick with panicked sweat, I let my mind fall towards prey instinct.

The demon let go of my waist and dragged its hooked nails over my back. Fabric ripped as the vestments were shredded, and the skin beneath it flayed back, too. I startled forward with a hiss and was quickly yanked back into position.

“Stay still,” it told me. I stayed still.

One warm, roughly calloused hand pressed into the small of my back. The force pushed me down until both legs spread open. My hips strained with the angle, but I didn’t dare resist. I squeezed my eyes shut. The prince took the other hand and struck it across my ass.

It was not a kind strike. I remember howling—an embarrassing, ragged sound. Keeling forward through the shout, I rectified my position quickly, and the prince clicked its tongue. Two fingers ghosted across the sting, easing my shaking body. A strange kindness.

I wanted to know what it thought of me. Was I obviously eager? Willing? What would it do to make me into a begging slut?

You would beg for it right now. Nothing would need to be done to you.

God, I am sorry, but it was true. I would have begged. Pleaded. Instinctively, I arched my back for it. A heavy warmth grew from the base of my balls, and the throbbing heat of my cock was close to overwhelming. The seam of the vestments grazed against the sensitive head. The friction stung, almost, and yet I was grinding forward against the pressure of my own clothes.

The prince’s fingers glided over the tenting bulge in my pants. I exhaled harshly, rutting towards the fleeting pressure. Touch me, I thought. Touch me. I wanted to be crushed by it. I wanted more—more—immediately.

I arched with a muffled whine, shuddering, close to tears. Far harsher than I meant to, I screamed, “Just tear them off me! A—ah!”

My neck crunched as it was pulled back. Another fistful of my hair, another disappointed growl. I had to push myself up onto my forearms and lean back to stop the hair from being pulled from my scalp.

The demon cupped my left hip and leaned close to my ear again. That forked tongue flitted out, sucking at my ear lobe. “Shut the fuck up, you stupid slut.”

It shoved me down by the neck before I could say anything more. My cheek met the stone with a scrape, and I wriggled uselessly until I could get my hips up again. I arched. I said nothing else, not even an apology.

The demon said, “Good.”

I couldn’t say what I wanted, but at this point, my mind had grown fuzzy with a deep and desperate urge. I was supposed to be waiting for instructions. Doing what I was told. But the thought of prayer came to me. Filled me up with a purpose. Desperation and frustration came together and dulled my senses until I almost asked for divine intervention. God, I come to you as your pathetic child. Please have this demon touch me. Please let it fill me. Fuck me. Use me. Use me. Use me.

It reached around again, the monstrous hand brushing against the bulge in my pants. I moaned and thrust into it, but the demon’s grip on my left hip stopped the movement. I groaned in protest. I broke the rules.

“Please,” I moaned. The word took an entire breath to say, coated in a lustful ecstasy.

“Ah, ah,” it said. “You eager thing. Be patient. I want to see you squirm.”

I took a deep breath, the way I might before a service. I had wanted this for years. Far too long. But I wasn’t about to jeopardise this chance by being an overeager slut. I could be obedient. The life of a priest is true obedience.

I swallowed and waited for the demon. It moved painfully slowly. I heard the quiet laughter in its breath and knew I was being played with.

It’s laughing at you. Your wretchedness. Your eagerness. Look at you, splayed and wanting, legs spread to be fucked.

I gritted my teeth and stayed still, waiting. In one smooth motion, its fingers popped open the top button on my pants. Ever so slowly, it moved to the next one.

“Is this what you’ve wanted?” it asked. I could hear the smile in its voice. “Is this what you’ve lusted for? Dreamed of? Have you thought of this and touched yourself? Climaxed to it?”

I moaned at every question. The metallic taste of blood bloomed in my mouth, and I shuddered towards each slight touch the prince offered me.

“Tell me,” it said. “Have you fucked your own fingers before?”

I gasped. Shuddering, desperate, and eager, I told it, “Yes.”

But the moment shuddered to a stop, ruined, interrupted.

Someone screamed behind me.