Saying Prayers.

My hands were clasped together, my fingers intertwined with strands of evenly spaced hematite beads. Their glossy and gray surface easily reflected the soft candlelight in the cathedral. A simple crucifix dangled from the chain about 2 inches from the point at which the beaded strands joined. My gaze was averted from the sight of it. I did not touch it for surely the symbol of my holy father would burn itself into my palm.

My thumb grazed lovingly over a larger bead made from onyx. My prayers, said with each bead of my rosary, filled the silent air of the hall. My voice served as the only noise that resounded. It was undeservingly beautiful, even to my ears, and for a moment it seemed as if God himself was trying to carry me through these dark thoughts. Even as I prayed with the rosary beads sliding across my fingertips, I could only concentrate on failing images of life around me. I spoke in Latin, a vain effort to focus my mind on my prayer and yet it had done nothing to halt or lessen the burdens on my mind. The strain of living was becoming too great.

'Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum...' I started again, for the third time. My hands trembled where they clasped the beads, my grip tightening dangerously upon the fragile, beaded strands. My bowed my head deeper, gray streaked hair falling across my forehead, and began for a forth time. 'Pater noster, que es in caelis...' I broke again.

'Thy kingdom come, thy will be done...' A voice spoke from the back of the hall, and was punctuated by the soft sound as the heavy doors closed.

My hands shook even more violently, and the beads dug tightly into my skin before they suddenly went lax. I glanced down, unwinding the broken strands from my fingers and, making the sign of the cross, I rose. I tucked them away with a sense of foreboding, as if they had predicated a greater fall from grace. I turned to face the intruder and stopped.

'Hello, Father.' She stood there, a hesitant smile upon her mouth. 'I am sorry if I interrupted you - you seemed - to be struggling.' Her words were broken, reluctant. 'The doors were not locked, I had hoped you still remained awake.' I stared at her for a long moment and then smiled.

'Thank you, Maria.' I struggled to remember her name. 'I don't seem to be able to concentrate.' I felt the blood pulse thickly in my veins, my voice deepened a bit as I spoke, 'What...,' I coughed slightly, 'What can I help you with, my child?'

Her gaze met mine and then she glanced down coyly to her shoes - red heels. See seemed to be ready to go out this evening. I watched as she toed the carpet and her voice was so soft, I had to lean closer to hear her words. 'I need confession, Father.'

I closed my eyes briefly and sent a silent prayer for aid in getting through this. I could smell her perfume, it warmed me as a drug might. I nodded my head and walked with her through the pews to the confessionals. I opened the door, and gestured inside before moving to another door and sitting down. I hurriedly spoke a prayer and opened the divider between her compartment and my own.

She spoke before I could. 'Bless me father for I have sinned. It has been 1 day since my last confession.' She paused and I watch through the screen as she swallowed hard. I could not understand her nervousness. 'I have had impure thoughts about a man, Father, and these have left my body warm - hot even. I can't sleep at night, I think of nothing but him, his hands upon me, fucking me, touching me. I would do anything for him.'

I felt my flesh respond to her words. My cock, which normally obeyed my will, stirred under the robes I wore. I struggled to find speech again. 'Have you acted upon your thoughts?'

She shook her head then. 'No father, He does not know. He would scorn me.' She lowered her voice. 'Sometimes, I can't help but give in to my skin - It crawls for him to touch it. Nothing helps. Prayer - It doesn't help.' Her voice trailed off.

I felt for her then, I was experiencing some of the same unrequited desire. I adjusted myself and then shifted upon the bare wooden seat. 'No, Maria, physical lust cannot replace a spiritual connection. It is there to enhance it - between two married people bond - united, by God.' I wanted to help her, yet the words I spoke were false to my own ears. I had never been so detached from my religion. 'Perhaps you are wrong - maybe if you expressed an interest in him, you might consider a courtship, then marriage may come later.'

A tear rolled down her face. 'I have tried. He does not see.'

I thought then of the men of my congregation, there were some handsome young men her age. 'Is it Ricardo? Perhaps Matthew or Zachary.'

She shook her head and her eyes lifted to mine. I saw her clearly then, the woman she was. I felt my breath leave me. 'No, Father.' She moistened her lips and leaned closer to the screen between us. 'What can I do to make you see?'

I leaned back from the screen and pushed open the door, stumbling out in some shock. She stepped from her own closet and I saw her in full. The black silk of her hair that swirled around her face and spilled over her shoulders and breasts, the way her dress hugged the smooth flat plane of her belly. My teeth gritted and the discomfort below grew steadily worse. She looked at me. 'I know you think it is not meant to be. I hoped perhaps, that you might find some comfort with me, also.'

I said nothing and just stared at her.

'Holy Father, please.' She fell to her knees before me and lifted the edge of my robes and placed a kiss to them. 'Help me. Love me.'

I stared down at her for a long moment and after a moment she leaned back on her heels, and lifted her tearful, dark gaze to my own. Her palms slid over her thighs, and up the seductive curves of her waist and breasts. She reached behind the fall of her hair and loosened the tie that held the dress in place, and rising, she dropped it slowly as she came to me, her breasts bare and hard nippled.

She slid her warm body against mine, pressing against me and I knew that she could feel my cock pressing against her belly. She rubbed her belly lightly over the distended mound under my robes and pressed her lips against my throat just above my collar. 'Let me help you too, Father.'

Her hand dropped down slowly and her parted lips slid across my cheek to my mouth. She lightly dusted feathery kisses against my cold mouth. Her hand found me in my robes and slowly started milking the shaft with her fingers.

I reached for her then. My mouth covering hers almost violently as my hands dug into the soft skin of her arms. The temptation she offered was great. I bit her mouth and savored the harsh sound of her cry and metallic taste of the blood that followed. My hips thrust against her attentive hands. My mind was assaulted by images of sex, the women I had had before my oath and yet, they seemed a distant and passionless experience next to her. She consumed me.

Her fingers explored and started gathering material in them. I felt air upon my legs as the material of my robes lifted and I pushed her away suddenly. It was if my palms burned, I could feel the eyes of the murals and statues burrowing into my back.

'Stay back, Maria.' I ignored her stunned and then plaintive stare. I made the sign of the cross and stepped back from her. 'Go. I will say a prayer for us both.'

She rose and her unsteady fingers trembled as she hid her breasts once again from my sight. I knew I would not forget how they felt. 'I have prayed,' she whispered, 'and you were my answer.'

I shook my head. 'You will pray again. And listen this time. See me when you understand this cannot happen.'

She left and once again I was alone. My gaze lifted to the murals around me, and met the condemning eyes of Saints and the great men that had come before me. I had told her a week. I doubted she would be safe then.

It was as if I had finally awoken.



I was restless and kept to seclusion for the next two weeks. I saw her again on Sunday when she knelt before me to receive communion. Her eyes sought my own and I was stunned to see the desire still there. I was weak and I nodded. She parted her lips and I pressed the chalice to her mouth. I laid my hand upon her head and whispered a time. She had no idea what she was getting herself into.

The day passed with the usual traditions of Sunday and soon I found myself glancing at the setting sun. I walked the halls of the church and closed the open doors and locked the entrances. The holy women and men of God had long since retired by the time I saw her again, standing so uncertainly at the wide doors of the entrance. I walked to her and nodded to her in greeting before I passed her and shut the doors with a finality that even startled me.

I had removed my priestly garments - their innocence would not be tainted by what I was about to do. I offered her my hand, and once she placed hers in my own, covered her hand with my other. She gave a tremendous sigh.

'I was worried.' She smiled at me with a trust that she should not have felt.

'You should still be.' Came my reply as I stared at her.

'I mean, I thought you would deny me. I prayed, Father, I prayed and still I am h....' She stopped as I lifted two fingers to silence her.

I released her hand and walked to the front of the hall. I had cleared the alter of its adornments and left it covered simply with a soft sheet of white. I sat in the chair, from which I had sheparded over the masses and asked her simply.

'Do you still want this, Maria?'

'Yes, yes, I do. Very much.'

'Undress.' It came far easier than I had expected, selling my soul, yet still it seemed too small a price. Her soul would be offered for this as well.

She stared at me, stunned and walked forward. 'Father?'

I shook my head. 'My name is Daemon, address me as such.' I paused and when she made no move, my voice went sharp. 'Undress!'

She jumped then, startled, I suppose, at the change in me, yet she did obey. Her fingers loosened each button of her white blouse one by one and soon it was sliding from her arms to the floor in a fluff of white material. Her bra was next, the lacy material doing little to hide her breasts from me. I had seen them in my mind every night since the first. It fell to the floor. My cock began to swell and I felt a new sense of power, the holy man inside me yielded to the darker demons of lust.

Her fingers hesitated upon the button of her pants, but she removed them when I met her gaze again. I watched her struggle with embarrassment for a long moment as her fingers fluttered around the black lace of her panties. They were like nothing I had seen - as gossamer a fabric as I had ever seen. She hung her head.

'I thought this would be easier.' She whispered softly before her brows knitted together. 'Why won't you touch me like last time?'

I rose and walked to her, my hand sliding around her waist as I pulled her closer to me. Her breasts pressed against my black shirt and my head bowed to her neck to take in her scent. 'You make this choice of your own will?'

She hugged me closer then and nodded her head against my chest. My grip tightened upon her and my mouth opened against her pulse. My tongue laved the spot once and I heard her moan. She was captured. The beast rose inside me. I could smell the blood that lay pulsing under her skin. My eyes opened and I pulled back in her grasp to allow her to see to what she had surrendered herself. My black, soulless eyes watched her face as realization rose, quickly darting into terror as my incisors lengthened.

My nails, now almost claws dug into the flesh of her back as I jerked her to me once again and finally, after so many years, sank my teeth into the tempting pulse that fluttered at her neck. I growled as her blood spurt into my mouth. The vicious and pungent taste was my undoing. My nails shredded the lace of her panties and the defeated material fell away from her skin. I lifted my head finally, my chin and neck marked with rivers of her crimson liquid. The wound closed on its own and when her knees gave out, I lifted her easily and placed her almost as if in supplication upon the alter.

I could feel my body rejoycing in the liquid nurishment it sought. My eyes squeezed shut for a moment and when they opened once again, I saw everything as I once did, with my demonic eyes. I felt the rush as my body corrected what years of being without had done to me.

Her eyes blinked back slowly as if she were refocusing. Before her was a younger man. My hair, no longer tinted with gray, my eyes unwrinkled, and my appetite renewed. She tried to lift her head, but found her body unwilling. I pulled off my shirt slowly, watching her the entire time. Her eyes widened as she saw the cross that had been burned into my skin during the first crusade. It was an ugly reminder of what 'God's will' could do to even the most humble of followers. I turned my back to her, it was an ugly mark to bear, but I had long ago come to terms with it.

I missed the tear that escaped her eye and fell to the white sheet.

'Daemon. Demon. You are a demon.' She whispered softly. I wasn't certain if that was because she was lacking the energy to make it an curse.

I nodded. There was no denying it. I had been successful to this point in hiding among men, but standing there, with her blood upon my chin and lips, I knew I could never go back. She had, with a simple expressed desire, undone what I had built over centuries.

'Yes.' I hissed slightly, resenting the truth, even as I gloried in the power I had over her. I slid the belt from its loops.

She moistened her lips and looked at me. 'I set you free.'

'Yes.'

She struggled to sit up and placed a hand to her head. I arched a brow, thinking her intent was to escape, a humorless slant found my mouth as I watched her stumble off of the alter. She collapsed to her knees and struggled without help, back to her feet. She stood before me, weak, unsteady and spit in my face.

The surprise of it startled me and my hand moved of its own accord to find her face. Her head snapped back and she fell back on her ass. I reached down and grasped her hair, giving it a violent twist, until the strands started to snap from her scalp. I pulled her up, but faced her away from me and shoved her back towards the alter. I forced her head down to the alter and then used her hair to wipe the spittle away from my skin.

The heels of her hands pushed against the alter as she struggled, but it was not enough. I held her thus and with a single finger slowly traced it down the line of her back. She moved her hips and I growled softly as it forced her bottom against my shaft, which was already screaming at me in lust. The single digit followed her back to her bottom where it traced lightly over her ass cheeks to the slit which was glittering with moisture. I lightly traced the seam of her cunt and then, using two fingers, shoved them into her hole.

My other hand was still tightly wound into her hair, so when she reared up, she met the resistance of my hand. I shoved her back down and pushed my fingers deeper into her body. I could feel the muscles of her cunt working - to repel me? To embrace me? I did not care, she was mine. I glanced up at the condemning eyes of the Apostles and felt no remorse, no guilt.

I worked my fingers lightly inside her and then withdrew them only to force her back open again. Her struggles seemed to lessen by the moment and I felt the breath leave her as I lightly ran a digit over her clit. The moisture was increasing below, easing the stroke of my fingers so that a wet sound whispered with each movement of my hand. Her jagged breaths were caught with each thrust of my hand and soon, her hips began to move of their own accord.

Her palms gathered the fabric and curled around her face, I could almost taste the shame she felt as her body denied what her mind wanted. I leaned over her and pulled my fingers from her gripping cunt. Tracing the moisture over her exposed cheek, I made the sign of the cross of her face. She let out a cry and I released her briefly to loosen my pants, dropping the fabric and allowing my cock to jump free. My fingers dug into her skin as I pushed my cockhead towards her moist opening.

'Remember, you wanted this. You gave yourself to me.' She cried out as I pushed in slowly into her cunt. I could feel the walls of her cunt yield to my stiff cock and let out a low rumbling sound. I was not eager to rush. My lips twisted into a sinister smile as I looked directly at the crucifix upon the wall just as my cock hit a thin barrier. A virgin. It was a sinister crime. I pushed past it and sunk home. I heard her moan. Her cunt squeezed my cock almost painfully as I stood there. Sensation poured over me like a flame. My nostrils flared and I pulled back only to drive back home forcefully. My hips slapped against her ass. My fingers curled deeper into her flesh, blood sprouted where the nails dug too deeply.

She whimpered, and giving up pretense, pushed back against me to meet the second thrust. My arms wrapped around her from behind and the speed increased. We were mating like beasts, under the eyes of the human church. I threw back my head, my hands drifted to her shoulders to pull her back as I would thrust into her. Our bodies would jar with each contact. My cock swelled inside her spongy walls and I raked my nails down her back, splitting her skin open. She screamed in pain. Fresh blood spilled from her skin and I bathed my hands in it.

The metallic smell of blood blended with the musky scent of sex. I felt her walls tighten around me and reached a bloody digit around to tease the swollen nub of her clit. Once, Twice. She screamed out, an unholy sound of fulfillment that shook me. I felt the wave of heat that came with the rush of liquid and pulled from her body. She moaned, her knees shaky as I turned her around. My cock stood arrow straight and upon resting my hand on her shoulder, she sank to her knees.

I sat in my chair and parted my legs. She came between them, her eyes glazed from sex. Her lips found the twitching meat of my cock and I moaned loudly. My gaze grew more intense, almost burning red as her lips slowly surrounded my cock head and inch after inch disappeared into her orifice. My hands went to her head. I thrust my cock into her mouth. She drew back, inexperienced and started again. One hand rested upon my thigh, the other went to cup my balls. They were her rosary. Her mouth suckled, drew upon my shaft. Her tongue laved the slit that oozed evidence of my pending orgasm. I threw my head back. The muscles in my neck strained as I stared sightless towards the ornate ceiling. My bloody hands clenched the wooden arms of the chair.

Her mouth left me. I glanced down and she crooked her finger at me, and laying upon her bloody back, she invited me.

'Fuck me, Father Daemon.'

I was lost from that moment on. I fell upon her and stretched her open with one move. Her back arched off of the floor, my hands dug into the fleshy curve of her ass to have her met my thrusts. I was savage. My mouth bit at her skin, marking her. My fingers bruised her, my nails cut her. I was ensnared by her offer.

My thrusts began to come quicker, short jabbing movements of body, muscle and skin. I rose up from her body, my hips still thrusting my cock steadily into her and looked down at her.

The words were torn from me. 'You are mine.'

And the near pain exploded into a wave of pleasure as I was welcomed deeper into her womb. My seed spilled into her belly and I let out a satisfied roar which was met by hers, my cock still thrusting into her wet and yielding hole. I fell forward upon her. My body still moving upon hers. I could feel the cum that oozed from her hole surrounding my cock.

I nuzzled her neck and let out a breath. My mouth found the sticky trail of drying blood and I licked it from her skin. I with drew from her and sat back next to her on the floor. She curled next to me. I could feel the weariness that marked her small movements. I had drained her completely.

I sat up and walked to the wall and opened the safe which guarded the chalice. Returning to her, I pulled her up against me and sat down next to her. I split the skin of my wrist with my teeth and poured it into the cup. Her eyes were closed as I placed the cup to her mouth and tilted it so that the blood spilled into her mouth. She gagged. Yet I made her drink until it was done. Her body was tired.

I lay her there and covered her with the white sheet until I heard the soft rhythmic breathing that indicated her sleep. I stood and walked, naked over to the cross that sat on the floor - cleared away earlier to make room for our debauchery. I reached for it and felt heat radiating from the metal. I tore a strip of my shirt and wrapped it around my hand and grabbed it once again. I could feel the heat of the metal trying to scar my skin, but ignored it. I nearly dropped the cross before I placed it on the ground next to her.

I shifted her slightly and then rolled her onto her belly. In her healing, mindless sleep she did not notice. That would change. I brought the cross to her skin and placed the metal against her scored back. I waited for the inevitable sizzle indicating she was cursed. It did not come.

Instead a white glow began to fill the room around her, and her back, so previously marked, healed itself in moments. I saw the cum that marked her thighs and cunt disappear, the bloody prints of my palms leave her skin. I watched her hair restored to its untouched beauty and stared, amazed.

I sat in the chair and watched the beauty of her face restore. When her eyes eventually opened minutes later, they were not laced with hatred. She smiled at me lightly and sat up. Her fingers went to her neck, now unmarked by my kiss. She stood and looked at me, sitting in my chair. My soul was filled with loathing. I had defiled an angel...laid claim to her. Surely there was not a hell that would be deep enough for me.

She watched me for a moment and then kneeled at my feet. Her face turned up to mine and she smiled again.

'Pass your judgment, witch, so that I can begin what will certainly be a new eternity.' I cursed myself. I had allowed myself so low.

'I was the messenger, Daemon. I asked to help you - and I did.' She replied softly.

I stared at her, so unlike any angel I had ever come across. 'I don't understand.'

'He thinks you have suffered long enough. He has sent me to you. ' she looked down at her hands then. 'and I... I asked to go.'

She gave me a big smile then and touched my forehead lightly before reaching for her pants. She pulled out a small black bag. Loosening the string, she looked at me. 'He has a gift for you.'

'Other than this?' I asked, my mind in turmoil as I struggled to find the right words.

She nodded and pulled out my rosary, restored beautifully. The beads almost glowing with the attention that had been paid to each one. I reached for it carefully, avoiding the cross that dangled. 'Thank you.'

'That isn't the gift, Daemon.' She reached for the cross and pressed it into my palm and held my fingers closed around it. I waited for the pain. It didn't come.

My eyes widened slightly and I swallowed. She nodded then, 'That, is the present.'

I let out a soft bark of laughter. 'Anything else you are going to surprise me with?'

She glanced sideways. 'Well, my name isn't Maria.....'