((This shit is loooong. Do not say you have not been warned.))

“You see Father, it’s my daughter, Cassandra.” The older woman spoke, lantern in hand as she led the handsome, middle aged Priest, and the physically immaculate handmaiden by his side down the cellar stairs of her small country home. Her name was Margot, a god fearing woman in her late 50’s, whose local Priest had reached out to this wandering holy-man after months of incessant begging from the woman. “She came of age 5 years ago and since then she has flaunted our teachings. She drinks to excess, she is out during the hour of the witch, she… she taunts me by invoking the name of the unholy one!”

“And so you believe her to be possessed?” The Priest replied softly, following the woman down the stone steps. His voice was soft and calming, but rumbled from his vocal chords like crackling logs in a hearth.

“Not believe, Father.” The woman replied, her voice breaking with the weight of her own conviction, “I know it. I have prayed on it nightly. The lord spoke to me… told me she was no longer the daughter I had raised.”

The party of three reached the bottom of the steps and stopped at a small 2x2m landing, devoid of anything except a hook to hang a lantern and a heavy wooden door which stood locked and bolted.

“She is in there?” The Priest asked.

“Aye.”

“For how long?”

“Four moons now.” The woman replied, no sense of shame or remorse in her voice, but instead pride that she had held steadfast in her judgement, despite the insults and threats and pleas and bargaining that had spilled from the other side of that door.

The Priest nodded, and then stepped past Margot so that he was in front of the door.

“I fear you may be right.” He said softly, “I sense great darkness emanating from this room.”

Margot clasped her hands together and began to pray, attempting to ward off the evil that she was now convinced was infecting her pure soul by even being in such proximity to whatever demonic presence had taken hold of her daughter.

“Can you save her, Father?” Margot asked, prayers halted for now but hands still firmly clasped.

“I can try.” He said, before placing tender hand on the shoulder of the beautiful handmaiden by his side. “Ava here was once just like your daughter. A lost lamb shackled and bound inside her own body. But I freed her from that prison, and brought her up and out into the light. Isn’t that right, Ava?”

“Yes Father.” The woman replied softly, head bowed and full, perfect lips barely moving as she spoke.

“We will enter the room, and you will lock this door behind us.” The Priest spoke once more to Margot. “The process could take hours… it could take days. There is no way to know. But the most important thing, and I cannot stress this enough, no matter what you hear… you must not unlock this door. You must not enter this room.”

*

“What the fuck is this!?” Cassandra screamed, watching in confused horror as the man who had introduced himself as a Priest stood statuesque and unmoving while the woman who he had entered the room with began to loosen his black robes and undress him without uttering so much as a word. There was, of course, no possession, no demon that required exorcising, no unholy evil residing inside Cassandra which needed to be purged. The only thing that there had ever been was Margot’s hatred for a daughter she had never wanted or understood, and the old crone’s warped perception of the world which had become more and more infected by her religious fanaticism. However, that’s not to say such things didn’t exist. The Priest himself could attest to that.

“You… you’re no priest! Mother!! Mother who is this!? You can’t leave me in here with…”

Her demands were cut short as the last of the Priests’s clothing was gently lifted over his head by Ava and tossed aside, revealing olive skin pulled tight over surprisingly dense musculature, and even more surprisingly, adorned from collarbone to shin with black, ancient, runic tattoos that seemed to glisten in the candlelight as if the ink were still fresh. However, perhaps most shocking was that… that thing between his legs. She hesitated to call it a penis, because no penis she had seen or heard of hung so low, or looked quite so thick even in this flaccid state.

The Priest nodded to his handmaiden, who quickly and dutifully dropped to her knees in front of the holy-man and took his impressive manhood into her grip. It took both her petite hands working in tandem to fully encircle his girth, and with practiced care, she began to work his full length from base to tip.

The horrified young captive shuffled backwards, bare feet digging into rough slabs of stone as she fought desperately to put distance between herself and the act of lustful worship occurring mere feet in front of her. The Priest’s eyes had closed, and his broad, tattooed chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and as impossible as the thought was, Cassandra could swear that the room was growing colder with each breath he took, as if he was sucking the life and warmth from the surrounding air to nourish himself. Almost as confirmation, a tearful sob escaped Cassandra’s lips, and she watched in horror as her breath fogged up before her very eyes. Her skin erupted in gooseflesh, and shameful as it was, she couldn’t help but feel the bite of sinful pleasure as her now fully erect nipples poked dangerously against the meagre shawl that covered her ripe, young body.

“Please… Oh Gods… what is happening?” Cassandra sobbed the words out, voice trembling and eyes filling with tears, until she seemed to find her strength once more and raised her volume to a piercing scream. “Mother! I… I’m sorry! Just let me out!! I’ll be good!”

But neither the Priest, his handmaiden, or the girl’s mother responded. The Priest had begun to mutter. His voice barely above a whisper. A lost form of ancient Latin rumbled like the purr of a cat from his dark, rich baritone, and with each word the handmaiden kneeling penitently between his feet worked her master’s cock with increasing care and vigour. Her hands slid soft and purposeful over inch after inch after seemingly never-ending inch of turgid flesh; corkscrewing rhythmically to ensure every vein-rippled cord of thick, dense muscle received the care and worship it deserved. That plump, swollen glans the colour of expensive plum wine throbbed and swelled with each pump of the Priest’s heart, and a piss-slit large enough to slide a pinky finger into slowly winked open like the gates of hell themselves. The servant’s hands moved faster, more excitedly, her eyes cast up at the monolithic structure of flesh that loomed above her. Then, like a gift of ambrosia from on high, the Priest began to drip.

A marble-sized droplet of clear nectar formed at the tip of his glans first, growing in size until gravity took over, and his warm pre-cum began to leak onto the forehead of his dutiful follower. The moment that gift of pre-seed touched her unblemished skin, the woman moaned long and low, and tears of rapturous joy welled in her eyes and began to flow freely down her perfect, high cheekbones. She accepted her blessing as if it were the Eucharist; a baptism of blessed sperm in place of holy water. Simultaneously, she began to mutter, quickly and quietly, a personal prayer in honour of the man she had pledged herself to.

“Bless me father for I am weak bless me father for I am unworthy bless me father lest I strayfatherblessmefatherleadyourlambfromthisworldfatherguidemeonhighfatherbless…” The handmaiden’s words came so fast and with such conviction that Cassandra could barely make them out… not that she particularly wanted to.

The innocent young woman had backed herself into the far side of the wall by this point, and slid down it until she was huddled up where floor met wall, knees drawn up to her chest as her meagre bust pushed against her thighs and she rocked back and forth without realising it. The back of her head repeatedly thudded dully against the stone wall behind her as if it might wake her from this nightmare. She had never subscribed to the teachings and holy scripture that her Mother had tried to both literally and metaphorically beat into her over the years, but suddenly she found herself wishing that she had. Oh to have some veil of divine protection between herself and… and… and whatever unholy covenant she was witnessing.

She felt she must have been losing her mind, because not only was the room cold as the peak of a mountain now, but an inky blackness seemed to have crept into the locked space, as if her peripheral vision had closed in like the walls of a tunnel, focussing all her attention on that gorgeous and terrible man, and the equally gorgeous and rapturous maiden knelt at his feet; stroking, milking, worshipping that mind-shatteringly perfect cock.

Then… without warning or pretence, the Priest raised one hand and time seemed to stand still. The handmaiden stopped her stroking and let her hands fall to her side, bowing her head in penitence. Cassandra didn’t dare breathe or make a sound, hoping in vein that perhaps her role in this sick ritual would remain ancillary. The Priest’s eyes remained closed, just as they had since the moment that thorough handjob had begun.

“Now, my child.” He spoke, and the voice that echoed from those lips sent a fresh downpour of silent, terrified tears cascading down Cassandra’s cheeks. That deep, masculine, gravelly voice that had introduced itself to her was now amplified and underpinned by a second, inhuman voice which provided a discordant harmonisation as the Priest spoke. “Let us begin.”

Cassandra stared for a moment in abject horror as the Priest’s eyes opened, before the last remaining threads of her sanity frayed and snapped, and the young lady began to scream with a genuine, bloodcurdling terror that breathed wicked life into the Priest and his female companion. For what had been staring back at Cassandra had not been the eyes of a man, but solid black orbs which had swallowed the irises and whites of the Father’s once steely blues.

She screamed, and she screamed, and the Priest began to advance – not with footsteps, but floating toward her, his bare feet dangling mere inches off the ground as that calm face and those black, demonic eyes never changed expression, and that massive, turgid cock throbbed and dripped in anticipation as it closed in on its next victim.

*

“I am sorry, my child.” The Priest said, now clothed again in his loose black robes and his face returned once more to the perfect image of serenity and pious faith; nothing abnormal or inhuman to be seen. He placed a reassuring hand on Margot’s shoulder, who seemed more concerned with her proximity to this handsome Priest than she did the results of her daughter’s ‘exorcism.’ “But your daughter succumbed to the rigours of the process.”

“What do you mean, Father?” Margot replied, doing her best to sound concerned about a daughter whom she’d never truly concerned herself with.

“I expelled the darkness within her, but the ordeal has left her… broken.” The Priest slowly opened the door he had exited moments earlier to reveal Cassandra’s splayed out figure. Margot gasped at the sight of her daughter, pale as a ghost, nude, and rolling side to side on her back as her nails clawed and scratched at the stone floor, leaving bloodied streaks as she ripped skin from flesh.

“Bless me Father for I am but a vessel. Bless me father for I am but a vessel...” Cassandra repeated the mantra over and over again in a cracked whisper, her expression blank and her eyes fixated on the ceiling above her. What couldn’t be seen was the war being waged within her womb and stomach, where unholy seed burned and churned, spreading corruption and darkness that clouded her mind with horrors the likes of which no human could truly comprehend.

“As you can see, her mind is lost to us.” The Priest said, closing the door once more. “Keep her in your prayers, and perhaps the All-Father will bring her back from the dark.”

Margot clasped her hands in prayer and dropped to her knees before the Priest.

“Please, take her with you Father. Her sin will infect this house, rot it from the inside, I just know it.” Margot begged, less concerned with her daughter’s plight and more concerned with her own salvation. But the Priest paid her no mind, already he was bowing his head in apology and gestured to the woman by his side that it was time for them to leave.

“I’m sorry, but no.” He replied, stepping around the kneeling figure and making his way for the stairs that would lead them up and away from this underground cellar. “My path is long… and only the most worthy will be chosen to walk it with me.”

Told you it was long! Anyway, if you managed to actually read through all that verbal diarrhea then I applaud and love you. If not, allow me to summarise:

Be me, a once pious and respected Priest who fucked around with a demonic presence and found out; now he walks the lands from town to town, performing ‘blessings’ on the townsfolk (and by blessings, I of course mean he fucks their body and mind with his demonic cock and chooses the most perfect and loyal of the women to join his growing cult of dutiful followers).

Be you, one or many of the women who come into contact with this priest, leaving the experience as a broken husk of your former self, or as an ascended follower made more perfect, beautiful and cruel for the low, low price of that whole useless soul thing (I mean, come on, were you really using it anyway?).

I don’t want to use a pre-established religion for this, but rather pull imagery and iconography from all of them as we please. I’m not going to be fact checking scripture or gospel or whatever, just make it sound semi-believable and make it sexy. Hips and nips, y’know? Happy to play this in any era or setting; medieval, modern, high-fantasy, steampunk, whatever. Hit me up with your ideas and preferences. I’m not expecting a novel length reply that waffles on like my posts do, but please be comfortable putting effort into the writing portion of your replies, and delivering at least 3 paragraphs per reply.

Reddit PM’s only, no chat/discord/etc.

Kinks: Corruption, Non-con quickly turned into rapturous fucking, worship, perverting religious iconography, large cocks, rough/violent fucking, breeding.

Limits: Underage roles, scat, vomit, feet, celebrities/face-claims, bad smells, low-effort messages.

Hope to hear from some of you!