06 April 2015

Confession Time - Demon's Embrace [Excerpt 4]

Demon hunter Veronica Hudson receives her assignments cloak-and-dagger style because the Church doesn't want the world to know corporeal demons walk the earth, and they don't want to be seen to associate with her (they don't like her very much). Veronica shows up to confession to secretly receive her payment and new assignment. When she decides to join the priest on his side of the confession booth, things start to go a little crazy.


He jumps when I open the door to his side. From the light shining in I see he’s made a little tent in his robes. I should just take the package from him and leave.

But I don’t.

I hike up my skirt and put a high heel on the bench so he can get a good view of my panties.  Oh, wait, I forgot to put on panties. I knew I’d forgotten something!

Silly me.

He looks like he just got injected with a drug. Smiling, I close the wood panel door behind me so we’re now in the dark.

The envelope with my money in it disappears into my handbag. Now that his hands are free, I grab them and place them on my breasts, a sensation I doubt he has felt for a long time, if ever. The sigh that escapes from him puts a wicked grin on my face.

A few more buttons of my blouse come undone and I’m feeding him, holding him by the back of his head. His hands find my home and stumble against the door, but I don’t mind. I know he’s inexperienced. It’s not his technique (or lack) that turns me on, but his eagerness to sin, and sin so egregiously, so readily, to leap into the taboo without a second thought. I reward his unpracticed eagerness with my own, more experienced hand.

Suddenly a penitent enters the other side.

Father freezes, but I don’t.

A breathy girl’s voice from the other side whispers, “Forgive me father for I have sinned.”

“How long since your last confession?” He manages to not sound too flustered.

“A week.”

“What do you wish to confess?”

“Lately I’ve been having these crazy urges to... to touch myself. Inappropriately. Especially in front of other people. I stop right before they see anything, but when they look away I touch myself some more, you know... down there.

"But that’s not the worst thing.”

“No? What is the worst thing, my dear?

“The feeling builds up until I can’t stop it anymore and then all this liquid shoots out. At first, I thought it was pee, but it doesn’t smell like pee.”

I put my mouth on the priest’s ear so he can feel my lips moving against him and whisper oh, so quietly.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand what you’re saying, why don’t you do it for me, now, while you’re safe in here.”

“What? Oh I don’t know...”

I breathe a few more words into the holy father’s ear.

“If you do it for me, now, here, it won’t be a sin.”


“Yes, child,  truly.”

“Oh... okay.”

I hear the sound of rustling clothing.

“I’m doing it, Father.”

“Doing what, my dear?”

“Touching myself. Down there.”

“I don’t hear anything. I don’t think you’re trying hard enough.”

“I’ll try harder,” she breathes, and I hear delicious  little wet sounds through the grate. Little noises escape her mouth, cute hitches of breath, stifled moans.

“Do you like knowing I can hear you? Do you like doing that right next to me so that I know you’re doing it?”

“Oh, yes, Father.” More slippery slick sounds, her breathing is speeding up.

“How much do you like it?”

“More than anything!”

I’m not telling the priest what to say, anymore. He’s getting into the spirit of my wicked little game quite nicely all on his own. I give him a kiss on his neck below his ear, then lift up his robes and kneel before him in the tiny booth. Funny how there’s enough room for the two of us to be in this position. Almost as if the confessional were designed this way. He’s not as big as demon girl-cock, but then again, who is?

“Father it’s going to happen, what do I do?” she hisses in a panicked voice.

“Let it happen, child!”

“Uh... uh... Oh, God,  I can’t stop, I can’t stop, oh no!

I hear her  juice spraying against the panel with a hiss. It makes an almost musical drumming sound against the thin wood. She’s squealing with her hand over her mouth by the sound of it. As she sprays the inside of the confession booth, the holy father erupts and sprays the back of my mouth. He’s trying to buck against my mouth but I’m holding him down with my forearms on his thighs. I rise. In the dim light of the dark booth he can see my finger pointing at the grate.

“Well done, my child,” he says, a little out of breath himself, “Say five Hail Mary’s, go forth and sin no more.”

I hook a thumb into his mouth to hold his jaw open and drool everything I have from him onto his own tongue. He swallows it all and says, "I'm not sure exactly what side you're on, Miss Hudson."

Learn more about the Erotic Apocalypse, which features smoking hot futanari demons and angels involved in a plot to prevent (or begin) the Apocalypse. But you can't stop the Erotic Apocalypse! If you love power-mad, sex-hungry bisexual women from the 1940s (or is that sex-mad and power-hungry?) hungering after giant demon girlcocks and spewing enough sexual fluids to take a bath in, you won't find a hotter, more sacrilegious tale.

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