Exorcised By Sin(3) 🫦🍆💦

Chapter 11

Father Elias’ POV

Weeks later…

Sleep had turned into a battlefield for me since that night.

I dreamed of her every time I closed my eyes. Not gentle dreams or repentant ones but raw, recalled visions that left me hard and gasping for air before dawn.

In the dream, I was back at the altar, her legs locked around my waist as her nails dug deep into my shoulders. She whispered blasphemies into my mouth and ears as I fucked her senseless, each thrust pulling out black smoke right from her lungs as the chapel was filled with the smell of burning incense and sex. I came inside her again and again, watching my seed drip out of her like unholy oil, anointing her thighs, the stone and my trembling hands. Each time she came, the devil howled, then laughed. Like it had won.

I jolted awake, drenched in sweat, my sheets twisted around my legs with my cock throbbing painfully against my stomach. The room smelled of my own shame.

I hadn’t returned to the chapel since. I couldn’t. The thought of stepping through that creaking oak door made my pulse race with equal parts of dread and hunger.

Last night had been the worst yet. I had jerked off twice hoping sleep would come, but it didn’t work. The first time, I massaged it slow and guiltily, picturing her mouth around me as her head bopped up and down on it, her spit dripping down me. I fastened the pace as I imagined pinning her face down and taking her ass the way I’d promised myself I never would. When I finished the second time, CHM streaking down my stomach, I stared at the ceiling and whispered, “Forgive me.”

The words tasted like ash.

Few hours later, a message arrived.

I heard footsteps approaching before it slowly faded. A sealed note slipped under my door: The High Priest would be on his way to the grounds. He wishes to inspect the chapel and speak with you regarding the exorcism. Be present by noon.

The food I had eaten moments before which should’ve been digested by now went back up to my throat.

I moved stiffly, putting on my cassock, collar and rosary, each motion feeling like I was putting on an armor I no longer deserved.

The drive to the chapel was silent except for the rain drumming on the windshield. It had been raining frequently during these past few days even though it was getting closer to summer.

It was probably a sign from God trying to wash my sins away.

Or his judgment trying to drown me alongside my atrocities.

I parked at the far end of the church, walking into the rain with no cover, my heart hammering. I needed the baptism.

The door was unlocked.

Inside, the air was thick, the candles still half burned from last night. The altar cloth had been replaced, covering the altar fully but still leaving the stains of yesterday if I stared at it for too long.

Neither sister Mara nor The High Priest were in sight.

Just silence.

I moved closer to the back of the altar, my footsteps echoing. I moved past the confessional. Past the sacristy, then I heard it. Low voices, muffled, coming right from the narrow stairway that led to the upper gallery and the old storage room.

I climbed up quietly, trying to steady my steps as the stairs creaked softly.

At the top, staring into the room through the cracked door, I saw them.

The High Priest; Arch Bishop Lucien, silver haired, judging from his wrinkles, probably seventy, had sister Mara pressed against the stone wall. Her cassock had been moved up to her hips, the black fabric bunched in his fist. One of his hands was between her thighs while the other grabbed her by the throat, not hard enough to cause a bruise but firm enough to keep her still.

She wasn’t struggling. She was breathing fast, her lips parted with her eyelids half closed.

Even the highest men in Church had their own temptations.

Rage flared in my chest, something hot and possessive twisting deep inside my heart.

Without thinking, I made a deliberate sound; my boot sole scraping the stone.

Lucien froze. His head snapped towards the door. Panic flashed across his face as his forehead wrinkled together.

He released her so quickly, she stumbled, her clothing falling back to its place. Without giving her a glance, he straightened his robes and ran hurriedly without even noticing me and disappeared down the stairs.

His footsteps faded quickly, the outer door thudded shut.

I should’ve left too.

But I stepped inside.

Sister Mara turned slowly, her face flushed heavily like a little child caught stealing with her lips swollen. She smoothed her cloth with shaking hands but didn’t bother fixing the tear at the shoulder that exposed her curved breast.

She cleared her throat awkwardly, “thanks for helping me, Father,” she said softly.

I swallowed. “I…It was nothing,” my voice was on the verge of betraying me.

She tilted her head. A small, dangerous smile curved her mouth.

“Who told you I needed help, Father?”

The words landed like I had been slapped and bathed with cold water. I stood there, shocked.

She really enjoyed what the Priest was doing to her? That same unknown feeling built in my chest.

She stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell her; the warmth of her skin, the incense and the ghost of arousal.

“Just admit it,” she whispered. “You couldn’t forget about last week. Every time you close your eyes, you see me spread on that altar. You feel me clutching around you. You taste me on your tongue and end up regretting how much you want it, me over again.”

My hands jerked at my sides. “Sister Mara–”

“Shh.” She reached up, her fingers brushing against my collar. “You saved me once, but you forgot about saving yourself.”

I caught her wrist, holding it tightly.

“Don’t.”

She didn’t pull away. Instead, she pressed her body closer, her body resting softly against mine. “You’re shaking Elias. Let me feel how hard you are.”

I shoved her back against the wall roughly. Her breath hitched, sparkles of excitement floating in her eyes.

I rammed my mouth into hers like I was punishing us both, my teeth crashing, tongue claiming her. She moaned into my mouth, her hands tearing at my cassock rummaging for my dick.

The buttons popped, the fabric parting to reveal my underwear .

I spun her around and pressed her against the cold stone wall, yanking her cloth up over her hips. No she had no undergarments on again, just bare skin, already wet and glistening in the dim light from the narrow window.

I brought my hand down, landing a sharp, fast strike across her ass.

She gasped, arching backward.

“More Father,” she said as I continued, the sound cracking through the room as her ass turned red.

“Count,” I growled.

“One…two…three…”

By five, she was trembling, her thighs already slick with her wetness. By eight, she was already whimpering, pushing back for more.

I stopped only when my palm stung.

I spread her open, tracing the tight ring of her ass with one finger, then two.

Growing impatient, she moaned, rocking her ass back onto my hand.

“Elias…please…”

I slicked myself with her own wetness as I dragged the head of my cock along her slit, then higher pressing it against her ass.

She tensed. Then relaxed on a shaky breath.

“Do it. Take it all.”

I pushed in, slow at first, then deeper relentlessly. She cried out, her fingers scrabbling on the wall. I gripped her hips, holding her still as I buried myself into her.

The heat, the tightness. It was unreal.

I fucked her like that, hard with punishing strokes as she moaned my name like she’d unlocked another realm. I slid one hand to her clit, rubbing faster as I pulled out and slammed back into her ass.

She shattered quickly, her body convulsing as her ass clenched around me in waves that nearly dragged me over the edge.

I pulled out only long enough to spin her again. I pushed her back against the window, carrying both her legs as she faced me panting heavily.

I opened her thigh, hooked it over my hips, and plunged into her pussy, deep and brutal. She screamed softly, her head falling back.

Her eyes rolled towards the back of her head.

And that was when I saw it.

In the reflection of the window, her face flushed and wrecked, her eyes flickered for just a second. Black. Crimson. Then gone.

It dawned on me.

The spirit hadn’t fully left.

It was still inside her.

And I was still inside her.

Deep in this sin, no amount of confession could wash it away. No prayer could undo it.

I fucked her harder, chasing oblivion and damnation. She came again, her nails digging deep into my hair, whispering, “Don’t stop… never stop…”

I buried myself deep and let go, hot pulses filling her, spilling out, marking her as mine in the most possible way left.

When it was over we slid to the floor together. Her head was placed on my chest. I wrapped my hands around her like I could protect her from what we’d become.

But deep down, I knew.

There was no way out.

Not for me at least.

Not anymore.