Elizabeth slipped on a bra and panties. She put on a light yellow sun dress that stopped at her mid-thigh. It was cool now, but as the service would progress, it would get steadily more heated. The fabric was light and felt like air against her body. Tiny pink roses dotted the soft fabric and made her look innocent—more innocent than she should. She slipped on simple white ballet flats and tugged her wet hair behind her into a braid that went down to her mid-back. She swiped a layer of strawberry-flavored chapstick over her lips and on a sigh headed out of her room.
She made her way quickly through the old stone hallways. The arches had suffered over the years and the natural decay in the outer layer of concrete only added to the appeal of the place. Her footsteps were silent. As she passed the center courtyard, the large fountain of running water muffled the voices of people starting to fill the church. The tinkling of liquid served to devour some of her anxiety as well.
Elizabeth knew one thing for sure.
Father Samuel was the devil. She didn’t know how she knew, just that the connection she felt to him was unmistakable. As much as she didn’t want to—she knew him. The same as he knew her.
Distracted by her thoughts, she entered the courtyard in a haze. She graciously nodded and smiled towards the familiar faces. Some tourists littered the crowd of people as she finally entered the church. The center alter had been replaced by a huge marble carving of the Virgin Mary. Her body was arched, her top exposing her breasts as tears that were chiseled into the hard marble decorated her face. She held Jesus’s crown of thorns in her hand and a large male-shaped hand settled over her bare belly. It was an odd sculpture, to say the least. Her face—smiling—belied the tears and her body looked as if it was arched in passion.
Elizabeth started to worry her hands in her lap as she took a seat—not in the front, but a few rows back. She wanted to remain unnoticed until she sorted everything out. From the corner of her eye, she spied Father Patrick. His handsome figure strode with such confidence to the doorway of the church to greet his flock. Her tongue flicked over her lips and she reached for the book of worship, finding the place she needed to be for that service. She started to mark and note the hymnal when the room went still.
Silence.
Goosebumps teased up her arms and she closed her eyes tight when the first moan crashed through the quiet room. It was followed by another. A whimper slashed over the moaning and it was then Elizabeth was sure. Father Samuel was her worst nightmare—and he had come for her.
Refusing to be trapped in a cage, she slowly rose to stand. Her eyelids suddenly felt as if they were full of lead as the scene came into view.
Bodies on top of bodies. Multiple forms in various stages of nudity rolled around her. She was bumped on her right side, and she couldn’t even look down. She just knew.
Anxiety tightened her chest. Her breath coming in ragged pants, she started to slip from the pew and make her way into the aisle. Elizabeth had to move past writhing bodies. The dream flashed through her mind and she felt the wetness coat over the swollen lips of her pussy and absorb into her panties. She ground her teeth together as her gaze fell on the handsome face of Father Samuel. Behind him, Mother Superior Theresa was tied to the huge cross that looked over the parishioners. She was naked. Her body was covered in light purple bruises and deep red slashes over her breasts, belly, and thighs. Her nipples were decorated in something silver and metal. As Elizabeth’s gaze traveled down her body, she locked her gaze on the apex of the woman’s thighs and the fingers fucking her slowly.
Elizabeth breathed in deep and instantly regretted it. The scent of sex, lust, and sulfur filled the room and she felt herself retch.
“Oh, come now, little one. You don’t think I really buy the whole disgusted act, do you? Not after last night.” The deep rumble of his voice brought her attention back to him. The smirk lit up his whole face. His dark eyes hypnotized her.
Slowly, she started to back away. One small step at a time, seeing as there were now bodies blocking her way of escape. She found Sister Margaret being railed by two men. One, Father Patrick, took her hard in the pussy and the other gagged her, it seemed, as she seemed to choke on each in-thrust.
Nearly to the door, Elizabeth felt a surge of strength as she passed over the bodies copulating at her feet. Hands would reach for her randomly and she felt a disturbing urge to fall into the pile and be taken—long and hard.
NO!
She took one more step.
“STOP!” the devil roared.
Nothing stopped but her backward retreat.
She found him at the front of the room now. This time his hands were gone from Sister Theresa. His fingers tugged on one of the nipple decorations as Theresa panted and begged him.