Margaret moaned in delight as her Lord unleashed his lust. His zipper slid down on its own and her hand slipped inside, pulling out the devil’s cock.
“Oh yes, God loves dick. Stroke it, put it in your mouth.”
Margaret did as she was told, fucking her priest while sucking her lord.
The devil had no ordinary phallus. It was huge and ridged with a swollen crown even males would envy. Margaret served him well, taking it almost whole down her throat.
“Your body desires lust, Elizabeth.” He could feel it, as if they were one, linked together by centuries of long-dead souls. He wanted her, just as he had wanted her female ancestors before her, but he wanted her more. Elizabeth had tremendous desire but what really tempted him was her true nature, her strong will, the need to fight him and win, to be free. Turning to look at her, he saw that her eyes were filled with disgust, yet her body needed every ounce of the sexual tang that filled the great hall. He reached and touched her hair. Soft like silk, it had a tinge of dampness as the sweat caressed her brow and spread through the tender locks.
“Look at me, Elizabeth. See how Margaret sucks on my dick. You can’t deny how your body reacts. You want it, and you crave it. You want to taste, to suck it, to feel the hard blood-filled flesh against your lips and throat. Your pussy clenches at the very idea of it between your thighs, rubbing along the ridge of your swollen mounds, before I ease it in that sweet crevice, deep in your pink slit. You want to feel it stretch you as my hands slide over your skin and grip you. You crave me, my hard shaft sliding deep inside you, pounding and pumping you until I shoot my devil’s seed into your needy womb.”
Laughter and sex-derived moans filled the halls as he felt Elizabeth’s struggle with his demonic grip. She fell away, her fist clenched at her sides as she found her body hers once more. Asmodeus winked at her as she ran.
Chapter Three
Panic.
It thrummed through her body like a living thing. Elizabeth’s heart punched at her chest to the point of aching. Everything she thought she believed was a lie. She released a violent sob as she rounded a corner and slammed into Mother Superior Theresa.
“My dear, good gracious, what is happening? Why are you sweating and running?” The sister reached for Elizabeth and she released a squeal and tried to run back.
Strong arms grabbed onto her wrist. Elizabeth turned around quickly and tried to shove away from the woman. The heat of her salty tears made her cheeks itch only intensifying the panic.
“Please,” she pleaded with the woman on a sob. “He’s come for me. He is here. Oh, God, I thought I was safe. Oh, my God.”
Elizabeth scrubbed a hand over her face. She shook her head, attempting to clear the foggy thoughts that collided together.
Satan.
Here.
Not safe.
Must run.
She rounded on the woman and shoved the sister against the stone walls. The beautiful face looked back at her with wide, frightened eyes.
“Of all the blessed beings, Ms. Cromwell, please, you must calm. I cannot help you if you do not calm for me.”
Trying to make a firm attempt at calming her frayed nerves, Elizabeth pressed her palm against her stomach. Now that she had time to reflect on the moment, her swollen sex seemed to itch and she pressed her legs together tight. She felt bile rise to the surface and she heaved as she bent at the waist and let out the contents of her stomach in the corner of the convent hallway. A pink blush flushed her facial features as she turned back to the pretty Mother Superior.
They are all good looking. Every single fucking one of them look like fucking models.
Something isn’t right here.
The sister reached for her again.
She jerked her hand away.
“Don’t touch me,” Elizabeth hissed.
Theresa righted her posture and gazed down at Elizabeth with a scolding expression.
“Really, child, all in a huff, vomiting in the halls, sweat all over your body—I need you to tell me what has happened.”
“Satan, the man, the one you are supposed to be keeping me safe from? He’s here. He has come for me!”
Elizabeth, trying to display a sudden posture of bravery she didn’t quite feel, moved in on the sister.
“How is that even possible? This is supposed to be a house of God. How the hell did he get in here?”
“Language, Ms. Cromwell!” Theresa scolded. “You watch your mouth in these halls. Now, if you would calm down and come with me, I will show you that nothing is amiss in this house of God.”
The panic started to return. Elizabeth’s anxiety spiked and she felt a very raw survival instinct that sank all the way down to her toes. The arousal all but forgotten, she was ready to fight now. She would fight. For every woman that wasn’t strong enough before—she wouldn’t be taken and she would end this bullshit.