Haunted by the Darkness

*All parties are consenting and above 18!*

I was raised a catholic, my parents and I attended church twice a week. Sunday of course, but also Wednesday. Everything I did had to be depicted of how it represented my church, how it affected my parents. I learned how to be the perfect Catholic child. I probably would have thrived if it had been the nineteen fifties but instead I was the nineties, my childhood in early two thousands where Christins’ hips didn’t like. So as you can imagine, I wasn’t very popular. I really truly didn’t have any friend. Not even friends from church, my parents thought a lot of them to not actually believe in the faith but instead only attend because of their parents, and of course those types of kids would not be allowed to impact me in the slightest. Meaning when I was fourteen, no friends, and a complete social pariah, it wasn’t a bit surprise. What was a surprise though was when Stacy invited me to her fifteenth birthday party. I remember it clear as day. How excited I felt to know that I was going to attend a sleep over. yet it wasn’t all a trick. They just wanted the church freak there while they used an Ouija board to communicate with the dead. They thought it would be funny that they made me test my faith, that they made me sit there as they ridiculed me as something answered.
Although what happened next they didn’t think it was funny. Whatever answered was something that those girls could never fathom. It picked Stacy clear up off the floor by her throat before tossing her across the room. Our screams bringing in her parents as the board was hidden away quickly so no one saw. Stacy crying and screaming about a black figure with red eyes.

That was the beginning, and that was over ten years ago. Whatever it was followed me home back then.

I felt like I was never alone, like there was a pair of eyes on me every second of the day. I would see things out of the corners of my eyes, shadows that moved and looked to be a huge figure, with wings stalked me down the hall. when I told my parents, at first they didn’t believe me. Until strange things started happening.

The noises, the smells, the flys. It went on for so long, they eventually turned against me. Claiming I had welcomed the devil into their home. I was the one who shunned our beloved lord while worshipping the demon. My father took to beating as my mother read me scripture. Their own at home exorcism that was supposed to expel the demon that was not even in my body. That is the only time I ever saw it. By that time I was nineteen. I had endeared the torment for almost five years, between the demon stalking me, my church shunning me, and my parents beatings. I was finally at my breaking point, I think that’s is why I finally saw him. I always assumed it was a him, really but I finally got my confirmation. My beatings typically happened in the basement, my arms tied above my head as my father used his belt to whip me. I cannot remember how long I had been strung up, only that my legs had given out aged ago. My shoulder’s long past the point of pain was blissfully numb. I know my mind was going next. Each snap of the whip was paired with a blinding light before my vision tumbled into darkness. A place I found solace in now, it was somewhere I could be alone, I could be free of the torment.

I remember cracking my eyes open just enough to see my father, standing before me. My mother out of my vision reading our beloved bible verses. The light of the basement dim, as it struggled to fill the dark damp room. I shouldn’t have seen him. He was as dark as the shadows as he filled the space beneath the stairs. His skin as dark as night, with tight wings tucked in close to his body. He was huge, in every sense of the word. His top half was that of a huge man, except his fingers though elongated into sharp points instead of finger tips. His legs though were that of a werewolf, giving him the ability to either walk on two legs or four. His dark eyes glaring at me, I tried to warn my father, to show him that it wasn’t inside me but instead behind him. That he didn’t need to do this, but all that came out was a whimper.

I think that is what set it off.
The thing was a demon, so I think that the pain that my father was bringing upon me was giving it pleasure. That night it attacked my father, my mother, and I. My father didn’t survive, I still bare the scars of the slashes across my thighs as the figure brought it claws across my skin. The next morning my mother made plans for me to go to a convent. I have been here ever since.
I was older now, twenty five to be exact.

Today was my birthday, and the other nuns had surprised me with cake. Father Malcom joined us, and it was absolutely splendid. Except, that it took away a huge time chunk of work that had to be done. I was drowning in paperwork, Father Malcom and Sister Rose were wonderful, but also a bit older. While I appreciate the value of having a hard copy of transactions, when the church takes donations I scramble to find what we actually need. That is why I am moving things mostly digital. Sister Rose loved the idea, Father Malcom not so much. I just wanted to make sure to do a good job so he could see the benefit of bringing the convent into the twenty first century. Next I would convince him that us nuns did not need to wear a habit everywhere we go.

I could tell the demon was weaker on scared ground. It had been since the day I arrived. I could feel it slowly fading away, present less and less. Paired with the bi-weekly prayer session and holy water the Father Malcom performed my contact with the demon was limited. Except this past year something shifted, although the demon was significantly weaker, but I could still feel it sometime’s. Where it used to pull my hair, scratch me on my back, or even push me.

Now it was doing other things, things that honestly confused me but brought my body alive in a way I didn’t understand. It would drag its claws down the inside of my thighs during Sunday mass, making me stifle moans as it moved closer and closer to my core. It would pinch my nipples, pulling it through my shirt as I sat in confessional. Teasing me as I tried to breathe through my dripping need. Another time, something that only happened once in the middle of the night not long ago, I swear I felt something wet in my slit. I woke up on my stomach ass in the air with my nightgown pooled around my middle, my vagina wet as something long, wet, and hot swiped through my vagina, working its way completely through my crack before doing it again… and again. I am ashamed, my body was so tight and on the brink of something. What? I do not know, but I do know that the feeling of being on a cliff and just about to fall off when the sensation disappeared. Shame and guilt exploding inside of me as I tried to push the thought of what just happened away. Pushing the desire for it to return away as well. I gave my body to God, I gave my soul to God.

What did this mean? It meant I needed to avoid the darkness. That the Demon wasn’t as weak as I thought and I needed to ask Father Malcom for more prayer sessions.
I was doing amazing, avoiding being alone or being out in the dark. Until the day of my birthday. I stayed later in the church taking inventory of everything, typing them into the online system one by one. I didn’t even notice the time… it was dark.. the overhead lights in the church hummed as they struggled to keep the area light.

The hair on the back of my neck rose, he was here. I could feel him. The once-comforting walls of my beloved church now felt like a cage, the shadows dancing with a darkness that seemed to whisper my name.
I had no choice but to secure the church alone, the party had eaten up most of my day. The other sisters had already departed with Father Malcom, the silence of the church almost swallowing me as a creepy cold chill snuck up my spine. Quickly shutting the laptop and setting it to the side. Deciding that I would just be back for it tomorrow, I needed to lock up and leave… now.

After closing down the supply room. I found myself in the dimly lit nave, the flickering candles casting long shadows that seemed to twist and writhe like living things. My heart pounded in my chest as I began my rounds, locking the heavy wooden doors and ensuring the windows were secure.
As I moved through the corridors, the silence pressed in around me, the feeling of the Demon suffocatingly eriee, enhanced because the only sound was the soft scrape of my flats against the stone floor. My fingers trembled as I fumbled with my keys, my mind racing with thoughts of the Demon that was hiding under the stairs, the Demon that killed my father, but also the feel of that tongue on my vagina. How good it felt slipping through my wet folds.

I felt an icy chill creep up my spine, as whatever it was moved closer. My breath quickened, and I whispered a silent prayer, my voice barely audible in the oppressive quiet.

Suddenly, the air grew heavy, the temperature dropping sharply. I froze, my eyes darting around the dimly lit hall searching for the Demon I knew would be there. The shadows seemed to shift, taking the form before my very eyes. The monstrous figure materialized that has terrorized me for years, its presence so overwhelming that I felt her knees weaken. It was the demon, it looked the same, it’s form as black as the void, with elongated, razor-sharp fingers and a hulking, muscular body that seemed to defy the laws of nature. My eyes drifted down to its groin, the smooth black crotch showing nothing. My mind traveled back to the feel of its tongue between my legs. As if reading my mind, its eyes glowed with an otherworldly malevolence and promise, piercing through my soul as it lunged at me with a speed that shouldn’t be possible at its size.

I let out a scream as I turned to run down the hall, trying to flee. My voice echoing through the empty church, but it was too late. The demon was on me, shoving me down onto the floor as his large body covered me. I felt its twisted, gnarled cock throbbing with an energy that felt both alien and intoxicating. Shame filling me as I felt my core wetting at the feel of the impossibly large member pressing again my ass.

As if smelling my arousal the demon’s sharp claws ripped at my dress, leaving me almost completely nude except for my habit. I let out a whimper as the cool church air rushed around my budding nipples. Ashamed that my body was responding to this monstrosity behind me.

The feel of the weird shaped cock now pressed into the exposed skin of my ass. I fought the urge to push into it, for some reason my pussy was soaked as I felt the head of the fat cock pushed against my cheeks. I grabbed my rosary tightly between my hands, as the long sharp fingers grabbed my thick thighs and spread my legs out, completely and utterly spreading me displaying my virgin pussy and ass to him….

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