by Zoe Blake
Doubts, suspicions and guilt plagued him the entire night. Was he in a fight with one of Satan’s demons? Or was it fight within his own soul? A conflict between his true self and the ideal? If she was real, then he was merely a soldier in the constant battle of good and evil. If she was not, then he was fighting the battle within himself. A battle which had revealed a darker more sinister aspect of his character, one that perhaps he had always suspected existed. Did that mean his entire motivation for joining the priesthood was not a calling from God but rather him hiding from his true nature?
Either way, he was losing, and with every vision, every interaction, he surrendered another piece of his soul. There had to be a way to free him from this torment.
“Do you believe in demons, Father?” asked Samael as he placed the Vatican’s original work on rituals for priests and deacons aside. As Father Michael had assumed, he had been reading up on exorcisms.
“I think it depends on your definition of a demon, my son. Mental illness, addiction, a lack of faith in God, these could all be considered demons. Yet, would you say those were sent by Satan?” Father Michael shook his head no.
“So, you don’t believe Satan works among us?”
Father Michael put his hand on Samael’s shoulder. “My son, I believe we as humans do enough damage to ourselves and one another through our thoughts and deeds without Satan having to lift a finger.”
Father Michael walked over to the shelf to the right of the fireplace and chose a book. Turning back to a reflective Samael, he added, “I will say this. No matter whether you believe the demons are physical manifestations sent by Satan or a scapegoat for our own human nature, the Catholic faith remains firm on one thing.”
Samael looked at him with interest, somehow knowing Father Michael’s next words would reflect his own damnation.
“We still retain our free will. Even when possessed by a demon, whatever form that may take, deep down, we never lose the free will God gave us.”
Samael lowered his head, worried Father Michael would read the truth in his eyes.
Later that evening, he was contemplating his struggle when Lilith appeared.
The object of his obsession… and damnation.
She wrapped her lithe frame around the trunk of a large apple tree which stood in a corner of the garden. The metallic shimmer of her dress reflected the leaves and plants about her, giving it a bright green glow, which matched her eyes. Reaching up, she plucked one plump ripe apple from a gnarled branch. Sinking her sharp teeth into the crimson skin, she bit off a piece of the fruit’s pure white flesh.
Flicking her tongue out to capture a drop of juice which had slid along her lower lip, she laughed. “Look familiar, Father Samael?”
“You make a mockery of Eve?” he questioned as he rose to his full height. Despite her tall, slender frame, he was still taller, and the few extra inches of height gave him a small sense of power over her, even if only an illusion.
Taking another bite of the apple’s flesh, she chewed slowly, making him wait. Her eyes no longer held their usual mocking coldness. There was something in their viridian depths he could not read.
“Why shouldn’t I mock that submissive bitch?”
“For all her faults, Eve is the mother of humanity.”
“And a whore,” spit out Lilith. Throwing away the apple core, she walked toward him. Each step deliberate. Each sway of her hips. Each movement of her dark ebony waves. Deliberate.
“Do you honestly think that pitiful book has the answer for you?” she needled, gesturing to the copy of The Rituale Romanun which laid on the bench beside him.
Perhaps that is what he saw in her eyes, fear. He could never be certain with her, but he desperately wanted to be, wanted to see true emotion reflected there. Nothing manipulated or feigned.
Emboldened, Samael took a step toward the small chest, the contents of which he had been examining before she appeared. Reaching for a length of silken cord, he turned back to her.
Seeing what was in his hand, Lilith took a step back.
“I don’t think I feel like playing with your pathetic soul tonight.”
She turned but Samael was too quick. Grasping her by her long hair, he pulled her against his body.
“That is too bad, my beautiful demon, because I have plans for you,” he rasped hoarsely against her ear as he started to wrap the cord around her wrists. He then tossed it over a high, sturdy branch of the apple tree and pulled, wrenching her arms upward.
Lowering his arms, he cupped her jaw as he wiped the remnants of apple juice off her lips with his thumb. It was almost a caress. “What no mocking retort?” he asked.
Her eyes flashed. Turning her head, she sunk those same sharp teeth into the soft flesh of his wrist. Drawing blood.
Laughing, she licked his blood from her teeth.
“Do your worst… Priest!”
Going back to his chest, he withdrew a large metal flask with a cross emblazoned on it. Unscrewing the lid, he took a deep breath before shouting, “Vade retro Satana!” With his Latin command taken from the ancient scripts to drive Satan back, he splashed her body with the Holy Water.
Her liquid mercury dress slithered off her frame only to dissipate into the grass, leaving her naked and vulnerable. Her heavy breasts and lush curves were on display for him, the backdrop of the garden making the scene that much rawer and more primitive. Just the sight of her bare cunt had his cock filling with blood. There was no point in denying it any longer.
It was done. She had won. But he was going to make her pay and pay dearly for her wicked victory.
“Is that all you got, Priest?”
Ripping his white collar off, Samael began to slowly unbutton his shirt, exposing his tanned muscular chest. Pulling it free from his pants, he tossed the garment aside along with the collar. They were both just garments now, no longer the symbols of his devotion to God. Watching her expressive eyes closely, he slowly unbuckled his belt. Whipping it free, he clenched the heavy silver buckle against his palm and wrapped the thick leather around his fist.
“I’m not going to stop till you are begging me for forgiveness. I am your god now,” he growled.
Raising his arm, he lashed the heavy leather across her middle. Then again, striking her breasts. Again, and again he whipped the belt against her flesh. A fine sheen a sweat glistened on the hairs of his chest as he threw his entire weight into each strike of his belt.
But there was nothing. No marks. No screaming. Her flawless skin remained white and unblemished.
Her flashing eyes taunted him.
Taking a step back, he thought to the only instances he had ever managed to mark her luminous skin. The time he had gripped her by the throat and the time he placed the mark of his hand on her stomach.
Both times it was with his own hand. Skin to skin. A true touch.
Samael smiled. With measured movements, he methodically unwound the leather belt from around his fist and dropped it to the ground. Kicking off his shoes and socks, he unfastened his pants and let them fall to the ground. He now stood as naked as she.
A corrupt Adam and Eve.
As Samael took a step toward her, for the first time in their twisted acquaintance he finally achieved his goal. He saw fear spark in those deep emerald eyes.
Raising his arm high, he brought the flat of his palm down on the upper curve of her right breast.
Lilith cried out. A large splotch of cardinal red ruined the white perfection of her skin.
He had been right.
A true touch. Skin to skin.
With religious fervor, he began to swipe at her body. Hitting her breasts, stomach, ass and thighs.
Each time Lilith screamed and cried it was like a boon to his tortured soul. He fed on her pain. It was as if his soul was finally free of its cage of faith and devotion. Free to heed the call of his true nature.
Standing behind her, Samael grabbed one thigh and pulled it high, exposing her bare cunt.
“You’re mine now, Lilith,” he whispered ominously in her ear before spanking the vulnerable place between her legs with his open palm several times.
“Stop! Stop!” she screeched in agony.
Samael refused, striking the soft lips of her cunt over and over again. Finally, he paused for a moment, to lay his hand between her legs, relishing in the pounding pulse he felt over her swollen pussy lips.
Lilith hung limp and exhausted from her restraints. Her body now marked with his own special stigmata.
Walking over to his chest, he pulled out a second flask of Holy Water. Unscrewing the cap, he took a swig to quench his thirst, heedless of the sacrilege, before splashing the rest on her heated skin.
“Wake up, my beautiful demon. We are not finished yet.”
Forcing her legs open, he stepped between them. Wrapping her legs around his waist, he gloried in the punishment-heated feel of her skin.
“Say it,” he ordered.
A little of her defiance was returning. “Say… what?”
“You have always professed to know me better than I know myself. What do I want to hear?” His eyebrow quirked as he focused on her red lips, his cock hardening at the thought of what he planned to do to her mouth later.
Seeing his intent look, she licked her lips before hissing, “Fuck me hard, Priest!”
He drove his whole shaft into her hell-fire heat. Lilith threw her head back as he used her own weight to push as deep as he could go, burying the full nine inches of his hard length to the hilt. He could feel her body clench around him.
“That’s right, my beautiful demon. Fuck my cock.”
Shifting back, he violently pitched his hips forward, thrusting again and again.
No more was there the chant of sinner, sinner, sinner in his mind.
His dark soul had been freed.
Reaching one hand around her hips, he splayed it across her back, then moved it lower. Spearing his fingers between her cheeks, his fingertips caressed the soft ridges of her puckered asshole. Without giving any quarter, he drove two fingers inside her dark depths.
Lilith howled from the unexpected intrusion.
“This defiled hole is mine too. I’m going to fuck you raw and then make you suck my cock clean,” he panted against her ear.
Lilith groaned a weak yes in response.
Jesus Christ, it felt good to talk and feel this way, thought Samael. His true nature roared to life. She had finally managed to unleash the demon in him.
Pistoning his cock in and out of her tight pussy, he drove a third finger into her even tighter asshole. Pulling his fingers free, he used them to rub the plump fullness of her lower lip.
“Open your mouth.”
She just looked at him. Her eyes wide with excitement.
“Open your mouth,” growled Samael. “I want you to suck on my filthy fingers while I fill you with my unholy cum.”
Lilith obeyed, opening her red lips wide. Samael forced his fingers in past the second knuckle. The scrape of her teeth reminded him of the feel of those same sharp edges along the underside of his cock. Pushing her tongue down, he thrust his fingers in deep till she choked and gagged. Till he felt the soft tissue of the back of her throat, almost forcing his whole fist into her mouth.
Her body spasmed with each gagging, labored breath, sending waves of sensation to his cock. He drove into her several more times before the pressure along his shaft became too intense. The moment his release overcame him, Samael bit down on her left breast, the acrid taste of her blood filling his mouth as his cum filled her wicked, defiled hole.
Her own cries of release were filled with evil satisfaction.
Pulling on the knot of her binds, they both tumbled onto the grass. Sated.
A twisted Adam and Eve, forever thrown out of the Garden of Eden.
Chapter 5
From the moment he invited her wickedness into his soul, he was lost.
Devotion takes sacrifice, hard work and focus.
Wickedness is effortless.
With each passing encounter, he followed Lilith further and further down the path of damnation.
Dressed in his full regalia, Samael surveyed the faces of his congregation.
There was a ripple of energy which slithered through the crowd as he raised his hands and said, “Take this, all of you, and eat of it for this is my body.”
Samael was under no delusions that the congregation was experiencing the religious fervor and awe which is supposed to come at this pivotal point of the Mass. He watched from his position at the altar as they started to put on their coats and gather their things. The energy was not for Christ but for the fact the Mass was almost over. He knew more than half of these so-called devoted people would receive the body of Christ and walk straight out the door to rush to get a good table at the local breakfast diner or catch kickoff. The lessons of the Mass quickly forgotten.
For this, he almost suffered a boring and devotional life filled with sacrifice and restraint?
For this, he almost denied himself the glorious sins of the flesh?
Samael raised his chalice high. “Take this, all of you, and drink from it.”
There was a deep-throated chuckle.
Samael looked down to see Lilith’s naked form stretched out over the altar. The sacrilegious sight would have appalled his former self. Now he just gave a wry smile.
“How about you drink of this body?” she asked suggestively as she tilted her hips upward, offering her sweet cunt to him.
Knowing from countless encounters that by some demon providence no one could see or hear his actions while she was near, Samael obliged.
Tilting the chalice filled with sacrificial wine, he poured the crimson liquid over her prone body, covering her breasts and navel.
Leaning down, he licked the ruby drops from her nipples before slipping his tongue into her belly button. Swiveling her body till her head fell over the altar to look upon the still, unseeing congregation, he raised her legs into the air on either side of his shoulders. Taking the chalice, he poured the remaining wine onto her cunt and with a wicked grin, sipped from her shameless heat.
“Fuck me, Priest. Fuck me on this altar. Let me be your sacrifice,” she mewed as her hips rose in invitation.
“Pushing his chasuble aside, Samael freed his engorged cock. Placing the head at her entrance, he leaned over to suck her nipple between his sharp teeth, biting down the moment he thrust in to the hilt.
Lilith’s arms flew wide as her back arched. Her screams echoed around the nave of the church.
Spanning her hips with his wide hands, Samael drove in harder, relishing in his power over her now. He had turned the tables, proved man’s dominance over woman.
He was in charge now. He had beaten his beautiful demon at her own game.
“We are so pleased to have you be the one to baptize our son, Father Samael,” cooed the mother as she cradled her son, swaddled in layer upon layer of white cloth to her breast.
“It is my honor, Mrs. Ridge,” responded Samael with his practiced smile.
As he took the baby from her arms, he held the child over the baptismal font. The reflection of the water began to ripple and steam. Looking over his shoulder, he spied Lilith.
She wrapped her hands around his middle and leaned up to whisper suggestively in his ear, “Drown the child.”
Samael turned to her in confusion, unsure he had heard her correctly.
“Drown the child,” she repeated with a vicious slant to her red mouth.
They had done every sexually perverse and debauched thing their wicked minds could imagine but this… this was taking it a step too far.
“The only thing more exciting than taking a life is taking the life of an innocent,” she explained casually as she circled around the baptismal font, her red nails scraping along the stone.
Samael looked down at the chubby face of the baby he held in his arms. An innocent.
“Samael, haven’t I proven to you there is no s
uch thing as god? What care you for his supposed commandments? Besides, there are no consequences. The moment I leave, everything will go back as it was before. Silly fools, they are never the wiser.”
Her words twisted and snaked around his mind.
The thrill of taking a life. An innocent life.
His stomach tightened with excitement. Feeding off her own eagerness, Samael slowly lowered the baby into the waters of the font, watching as the white cloth became heavy with liquid. Then placing his hand on the baby’s chest, he pushed down till the small face was fully submerged.
It was almost too easy. There was no struggle. Just a few tiny bubbles from his little mouth.
It was then Samael heard the screams.
The mother was screeching in terror. The father had leapt around the baptismal font to pull back on his shoulders. Water splashed over the stone edge to soak his Bible as the baby was pulled free from the font’s shallow yet deadly depths.
Cries of ‘call the police’ and ‘he’s gone mad’ rang in his ears. Hands restrained him as the entire room broke into hysterical chaos.
Everything moved as if in slow motion as he caught sight of Lilith, sitting naked on the altar.
“You reap what you sow, Samael. No one scorns me and gets away with it,” she hissed. Her green eyes flashed with the same cold malice he despised.
In that moment, he realized he had fallen for her twisted tricks and deceptions.
Struggling against the restraining hands, Samael began to shout, “You bitch! Satan’s whore. I’ll get you for this.”
“Look at him! He shouts at nothing,” said Mr. Ridge as he stared from the raving priest to the empty altar.
“He’s gone mad!” cried Mrs. Ridge as she clutched her soaked and crying child to her breast.