Page 14 of Hell and Its Pleasures

but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, Who art all good and deserving of all my love.

I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace,

to confess my sins,

to do penance

and to amend my life.

Amen

And then, because I was beginning to enjoy this, because my body was edging ever closer, I slowed my movements, pulling down the foreskin to expose the glands to the warm air, staring at the precum leaking from the top. “Absolve me, Bishop Jonah,” I said pleadingly. “Let me come.”

The bishop was close, too. I saw it in his eyes, in the way his lids drooped and that faraway gaze gaining lucidity as the pleasure made him focus

“If I am a holy man, then so, too, is my seed holy. I will spill it on you. Bless your mortal form. Do you want that, Alessandro?” His voice sounded low and heavy and I flushed thinking about his cum, thinking about him spilling it over my face. How degraded I would be—he was my bishop. I hadseen him worship so thoroughly, so full of grace. Now, he wanted to come on me—now he was calling it a holy act.

God. And then, correcting myself:Asmodeus. I want?—

“Yes,” I breathed out. “Yes, please, I want it. I want you to?—”

He grunted loudly, until the only sounds around us were of our wet panting and the slick noises of our cocks in our hands.

“Close,” he muttered, face again contorting, and then he dropped his cane and stumbled forward, left hand wrenching back my head so hard I made an involuntary noise of pain, and something about my expression pushed him over the edge. “God, Holy Father?—”

He came in warm stripes onto me. I closed my eyes just as the first splatter of cum hit my cheek. I kept my mouth open and panting like a dog to take his holy water onto my tongue, to take that absolution into me, and in this divine way I came, too.

Shuddering forward, I let myself go in the dirt. Holy ecstasy blinded me, and the bishop was on his knees suddenly, gripping my cheek. I waited for him to say the words that would conclude our confession.In nomine Patris, et filli et spiritus sancti. . .I waited for theAmen.

He did not give it to me.

“Whore,” he spat. And then he laughed, and in laughing the façade stripped away. Bishop Jonah was no longer before me, but some other demonic creature. Distended limbs, skin mottled between red and green hues, and with horns so long and heavy they curled like old toenails, weighted in such a way they pulled and extended the width of its face; it was nothing like Asmodeus. Patchy, thick white hair sprung from its chin and mottled body, and its thin tail whipped at me. Still giggling, the foggy clouds around us parted. I could taste its semen—thick, coagulated—dripping in my mouth, but eventhat couldn’t make me gag. Its cock hung spent and dripping between its legs, thick and ridged.

“Go on, you whore,” it cried out. Its voice was scratchy and high, and every word was interspersed with a giggle. “Begin your pilgrimage. Go! Go!”

I rolled in the dust, cheeks flushed with renewed shame. My breeches were still gathered at my legs and I had to shimmy out of them with it staring over me, laughing. I tried to stand, but its tail struck the back of my legs, and I sprawled forward again. Bruises and cuts stung over my knees.

“Crawl,” it laughed. “Or you’ll never find your way to Asmodeus.”

I looked back at it over my shoulder. It watched me with a wild smile, shameless in its lust, and I imagined how I must have looked, cock hanging between my legs, balls rolling over one another with every heavy twist to my hip as each leg scraped over the sand. Helpless and pathetic, just like how Asmodeus had made me. But this creature, wearing the face of an old mentor. . .How could I have fallen for. . .how could I have thought Bishop Jonah was in Hell?

Because he made your life one.

Would I have still done all that for a creature as fetid and ugly as this?

You did do it. You had that cock in your mouth.

I wanted the answer to be no. That I had some line I wouldn’t cross. I could excuse losing my sacred virginity to the Prince of Lust, lying about the summoning of Asmodeus, and the murder of Bishop Fazio, but to whore myself out to even a lesser demon? Some putrid creature with no name, and no mention in human texts?

“Bottom of the barrel filth,” it called out, like it could read my mind. “That’s right. EvenIhad my way with you. What are you now, dear little priest, except meat to be fuckedand filled?”

I turned away and started crawling. A heaviness sat in my chest, something close to guilt, and something else: a bloom of private pleasure that was becoming impossible to maintain. Why was I so desperate to hold onto a shred of my dignity, even now, after all that?

The demon whipped forward with its tail and struck against my exposed ass cheeks. That cane-like whack had pain rippling over me, and I arched back with a groan.

“What are you stopping for?” it said. “You have a prince to see. Go on! Hurry!”

It struck me again, and then again when I didn’t move quick enough. Rolls of skin bunched at my hips but sweat had made my body slick; the movement lubricated became easier, but it was my knees that held me back. Every motion had grit digging into the skin around the kneecap. After a handful of minutes, a tenderness throbbed in the nerves clustering the bone of my kneecap.

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