He had only seen demons through stained-glass windows or on a glossy page in some ancient manuscript. Now this face was inches from his own: black pupils and glowing red irises, hot fetid breath; he felt the faint tinge of sulfur. His whole life was spent believing, and yet the concept of Hell seemed impossible. But here it was. And Father Matthew Sullivan knew: "You're evil."

The red orbs sparkled and the demon grinned, and just then the most awful feeling overcame the priest. Fear, real fear, he thought. But no. It was more like a fear of doing something forbidden, helpless under the crushing weight of evil itself, sinning in its mere existence. Sin in all its glory.

The demon licked his lips. The long forked tongue rolled over its upper lip.

Before even seeing that creature, Matthew had dreamed about those very lips for three nights straight, of giving himself to a perfect being. On the third night, with only the light of the computer screen in his study to illuminate the words he wrote, he'd even experienced an orgasm in the very place his vows forbade.

Father White was his mentor during that exorcism. With shaking hands, Sullivan looked up some Latin incantations while White, his teacher, prepared the cross.

Father Sullivan trembled for two reasons: the words of his God said that he could never touch another man the way he touched himself on the third night; the word said the Devil would tempt him. The very presence of the demon reminded him of his shortcomings.

White dabbed Holy Water at the feet of the demon and commanded, "By God the Father Almighty I rebuke thee."

Sullivan joined with his voice, too. His mouth barely remembered the Latin words. And when he finished reciting his Bible passage, the demon flicked the water from his ankle.

"Naughty naughty."

Matthew nearly wept, and the demon could sense his weakness.

"Do not cry. Not yet, Matthew, dear," it crooned in that velvet voice, a voice he'd been dreaming of.

That smooth voice that kept speaking in his dreams, "This is just what you want." And at the end, always, "And God said let there be light..."

"Your faith will not be shaken by some silly test. Do not listen," said White, pointing the crucifix at the demon.

This is a test, he tried to remind himself.

The creature, therefore tied to a chair, broke through the ropes with a single gesture. It flew into the corner and crouched in it, rubbing its long tail against the stone floor like an exotic cat. It played with a rosary in its clawed fingertips.

Father White wiped away cold sweat when the demon turned to him.

With one more gesture, White was wiped away from the room, dragged by some invisible force to outside, and the door closed and bolted shut behind him.

A shudder wracked Matthew and the demon's head swiveled around at the movement, caught him staring. Those red eyes danced in a triumphant smile.

"Alone at last," the creature purred, its gaze lazily tracing the lines of the young priest.

White pounded on the door fiercely, shouting for Matthew not to listen to the demon.

Matthew's chest hitched, and the creature took a menacing step forward, but Matthew only shuffled back one in response. The back of his thighs pressed against the edge of the desk, trapping him. His fingers clutched the Bible in his sweaty palm, the only barrier between them.

Just as before, an invisible force seemed to follow the creature's fingers as it moved them upwards, and the priest's cassock slowly lifted as if someone was manually doing it. The cloth crept over his calves, his knees, up the front of his thighs. And no matter how the priest twisted or fidgeted, he couldn't put an inch of space between their bodies.

The demon's hand grabbed his throat and lifted the chain that hung around his neck, yanking it roughly, the delicate gold links catching, stretching... and the little golden cross was pulled, sent spinning off toward the corner with the force. Matthew could do nothing. A finger flicked upwards again, and his prayer beads came off just as easily, like they were nothing.

"Good boy," the demon cooed as if comforting him, but those talons continued crawling, grasping his collar and ripping his shirt apart. His cassock was pushed off of his shoulders. The thin linen shirt shredded before his eyes. Matthew thought he should be cold in his ruined clothes, but all he could feel was the heat.

There wasn't anything the priest could do but stare down as a dark stain formed just beneath the thickening bulge in his boxers. A claw slid over the spreading wet spot and a moment later, the pad of its thumb rubbed the head of the Priest's penis right through his clothing.

"I know what you dream about at night, Matthew," the demon growled in a hungry voice, "In those first days before the guilt of touching yourself becomes too much. Don't tell me you have forgotten the joy of your self-love? I know you have soiled your flesh with your seed three times now this week."

Matthew's mind became clouded. As if the demon had some sort of hypnotic hold over him, one that made him respond to its caress. His mouth filled with saliva as the memories of his nightly releases crashed over him and, simultaneously, the truth of his thoughts seemed laid bare for him, as if he had failed God and revealed these secrets to the enemy. The blood left the priest's face as he fought himself internally.

It felt good.

The pleasure was immediate.

That single point of contact through the thin material, the ridges of its sharp claws, it felt amazing. Matthew could not contain his voice as he released a harsh exhale and shifted his legs further apart, already seeking a second rub.

A flash of panic seized him; the shock of knowing, but his own reactions, the instinct to make more contact... whatever clouded his mind wasn't working in his favor, as if the demon had put a spell over him, forcing him to betray everything he was. To become so incredibly horny that his self-control was diminished to the point of pain. He couldn't stop, couldn't ignore it.

Matthew pressed his shaft firmly against its palm. A wet stain spread beneath the tight black cloth, the head of his cock slippery, leaving a slick of moisture that guided the ridges of the creature's palm smoothly, satisfyingly.

He was horrified by the pleasure of the sin. Matthew squeezed his eyes shut, unable to control his response to that touch.

The demon grasped his erection. It stroked his length from root to tip. Matthew's hips followed its motion against his will, controlled by that invisible force that had power over his whole body.

"You can't deny this is what you truly wanted," the demon whispered in his ear, "What you secretly dreamt of."

His boxers were pulled down his thighs, letting his cock pop up, jerking in the air. His cock glistened with pre-ejaculate. It oozed steadily from the tiny opening. He could do nothing to hide.

Those long fingers curled around him, his length snugly cocooned. When the beast gave him a full pull, the rough underside of his palm met the tip of his head with a perfect amount of friction.

His stomach lurched in pleasure. He rocked into it. His heartbeat drummed against his eardrums. His pulse, every breath, the pumping blood, Matthew became so keenly aware of his physical body, each little sensation magnified with pleasure, and the guilt swelled within him. He couldn't possibly last.

It squeezed him a little, and with the slickness his foreskin was sliding.

"Now, you'll lay down and open your legs like a good faithful boy."

The Priest had the bizarre sensation of the room spinning, even though he didn't move. His stomach flipped. It didn't make any sense, but somehow he obeyed; he lied down and his legs opened, and, even worse, a part of him welcomed it.

Then it lowered its body over Matthew's and spread the priest's buttocks, making him feel more exposed than he'd ever been in his whole life. That wet, rough tongue pushed the priest's cheeks further apart. Hot spit trailed over his crack and onto his hole.

The creature swiped the slimy tongue right over Matthew's pucker, rubbing, flicking the wrinkled flesh before dipping the pointed tip in the opening of his anus and curling within. It was filthy. Dirty, unclean, a hole that should be out of bounds, never to be touched, and it was. But when that tongue darted back in his tight passage, twisting inside his muscles, those feelings were all too real, making his neglected cock leak without a hint of remorse.

As if it knew exactly how the priest felt, it started wriggling its tongue in him more fiercely, teasing Matthew into pushing himself onto that slimy thing, as if trying to fit it deeper in him, seeking the relief of release that tongue could offer.

Matthew whimpered, "Oh fuck. Oh fuck..." His tone sounded so needy as he rocked against its tongue.

The creature worked thoroughly until he finally let his throat free to let the noises come out. They poured out of him; moans, whimpers, whines, and Matthew felt no shame for once.

A thin string of spittle trailed over the monster's chin and connected its mouth with his anus before the creature finally withdrew. The priest felt his hole spasm in an effort to find that sensation again.

It felt strangely hollow in its wake.

"Filthy boy. Just as I suspected," the demon chuckled.

Without meaning to, without even knowing it, Matthew shifted his hips and his cock bobbed in the air. Desire screamed inside his veins for attention to his pulsing shaft.

Whatever trick this demon was playing was getting the better of him, making him spread himself, part his legs and expose his arousal, showing the evidence of his lust. He might as well be offering himself.

The demon licked its lips and smiled at the sight, its crimson orbs traveling over him with purpose. It advanced forward.

Its taloned fingertips held Matthew's hips, lifting his ass higher to make his anus protrude. And the pressure of that beast's engorged dick pushed into Matthew's tight ring.

"You like my dick filling that slutty hole, don't you, Father?"

Its dick throbbed in his ass, pushing him wide apart, stretching him.

Matthew struggled with words. "That's not—Please..." His thighs shook uncontrollably, his muscles not just strained from the position, but trying to stretch to accommodate it.

"So polite," the demon crooned. Matthew swore its size grew a fraction more.

Then it gave him a short, slow drag, the wet length pushing inside him, but with barely enough motion. It was torturous pleasure. His muscles clenched. His nerves sang.

"Please what, dear?"

This is just what you want—that traitorous, foolish whisper flitted in Matthew's mind, so smooth and strong, the same voice that had accompanied his every thought for the last several nights... and it was so tempting.

One more hypnotic spell fell over him as he met the fiery red eyes of the demon that hovered over his body. And then, it took full command over him: his body jerked sharply and started to fuck itself on that monstrous member. It was deep. All he could think about was how deep inside he felt that thrust, forcing him open.

A startled moan left him when he realized what he was doing. The next instant, the demon had braced its forearms under his knees, spread him and held him to be taken.

His body betrayed him. It trembled with excitement, but still his soul refused to admit what he truly wanted, but this creature knew. Somehow, this demon could read his secret desires. Its voice dripped into his mind, "Say it."

That devil penetrated deeper, sending waves of electric sensation from his center all the way to his toes, fingers, the tips of his ears. It filled him to the limit, stretched him beyond capacity. Each slow thrust the beast took had his asshole burning and his own dick spitting thick precum onto his belly.

"Say it. I want to hear it," the beast commanded.

In that moment, a dozen erotic images flashed through his mind. He was aware, fully aware, that it was the Devil inside of him, and it was trying to take him.

"Yes," the priest finally breathed, and as his dark fantasies went off in his brain like fireworks. "Fuck me," he murmured, and was immediately and painfully aware that there was no turning back now, even if he didn't actually speak the words. This demon had made him.

The demon withdrew its rigid meat from his aching hole, dragging his foreskin along with him.

"Good boy," the demon groaned and impaled the priest again.

Matthew let out a sigh. It hurt but a second later the pain transformed into ecstasy. That delicious prick pushed further. His cock leaked heavily over his groin with excitement, drenching him in fluids.

His passage tightened, causing the creature to wrench and shake, its claws scratching the floor next to Matthew's shoulders. It bucked him hard, shoving deeper, and his asshole swallowed the rest of the demon. Matthew's vision dimmed. The throb was amazing.

With long powerful thrusts, it started plowing his virgin channel. Soon enough, his inner muscles were slack, accepting the demon in, wanting him to come deeper inside. His own cock bobbed and spurted, his whole pelvis rocking with the intensity.

His eyes were rolling, unfocused, as pleasure streaked from his ass outward and through the rest of his body, coalescing in his gut and groin and exploding everywhere else, his nipples peaking and hardening, his balls rising.

A splatter of cream painted his chest with a big gob. Another, then another. He was coming, climaxing so intensely, so easily. The last jets spilling in a sticky white line down his dick.

"Cumming while you're getting fucked for the first time, are you enjoying this as much as you wanted? You see, there's no reason for you to deny what you truly are," the demon said, his lips spreading over sharp teeth in a twisted grin.

Matthew shivered and, in response, his rectal tunnel clutched and clutched, contracting, squeezing every ounce of semen from the demon's massive, bloating prick.

"Tell me what you are," the creature growled.

Matthew was gasping for breath. It was like something took possession of him and he blurted the words without thinking:

"I'm a good boy."

"Good," the demon rewarded Matthew with a twitch in his prostate. It gave him one more look over and patted him on the head, flooding him with a large batch.

The man felt the seeping warmth fill him deep inside, coating his anal walls and sloshing out between them with the tight, turgid flesh. He felt used, relieved, and humiliated.

And when the demon took its big dick out, a fat glop spilled from his wide-gaping orifice. The thick seed trickled down his crack and was immediately followed with a short squirt.

Matthew blushed hot, ashamed, the color reddening his cheeks as the man took a peek down his front, seeing the damage he had made on his clothes and skin. His torn cassock and underwear were smudged with spunk stains.

The door unlocked with a soft click a second after the demon vanished in the air. Father White's tall form stood at the entrance, and the young priest glanced up at his superior.

He was prepared for the outrage, the utter disappointment he would find, but the man stood stoically, silent.

Then, the man spoke in the same monotone voice he used during rituals. It sent chills down Matthew's spine.

"Did you succeed?"

The young man swallowed and nodded weakly.