Incubus - derived from Latin incubō "nightmare, what lies down on one whilst one sleeps" and further from incubāre "to lie upon."
You woke up with your entire body paralysed. You wanted to scream - for the abbot, the mother superior, anyone.
But you couldn't. You couldn't even move your tongue enough to swallow.
Your rapid breathing was the only sign you were awake at all. Your body lay limp as in sleep. Was this some curse? Had you sinned so horribly that this was your punishment?
It must certainly be the new priest's fault.
He was so handsome, so tall and soft spoken. Your mind had wandered into sin without meaning to. You had knelt at the altar all afternoon, begging for forgiveness from the Virgin Mother.
And yet you had indulged in lustful thoughts all the same. This nightmare was surely your punishment.
"Hush now, dear one."
A voice right next to your ear.
You wanted to scream, to run, to do anything. Who was in your bed? What manner of demon had come to punish you in your worst hour?
You could smell the faintest hint of incense and rosewood. It was the smell of the chapel, of rosaries and prayer. Why did this stranger smell like he belonged here?
A hand came to rest on your thigh.
"Be not afraid."
The man's hand slowly drifted upward, pushing your negligee aside and bearing your skin to the cold convent air.
"All sins must have their penance, sister. I have come to give you yours."
The voice had grown closer and now his lips brushed your cheek. His hand reached the top of your thigh and slowly began to move toward your sex.
Your legs were closed tight and curled towards you slightly, so all his probing fingers found was the barest hint of your slit. Still, it sent tingles all across your cunt when his fingers brushed your panties.
"Such devotion you have, sister. But your lust creeps through."
The stranger's voice was deep but quiet, and somehow familiar.
You thought he would stop at your panties but you were wrong. His hand continued upwards, pulling your negligee with it. He hummed softly to himself and scraped his nails across the skin of your belly.
"When you kneel at the the altar and think still of sin, is that not blasphemy?"
His nails felt far sharper and far thicker than any human's. Claw like almost.
He cupped your naked breast in his hand for a long moment before squeezing it gently. His fingers found your nipple and teased at it, pinching and rolling. How could a stranger's touch feel so good? How could it make you burn inside?
Surely this was no man, but a demon sent to torment you with lust.
His breath was growing ragged and he pressed himself closer against you. Something firm and long ground itself against your ass cheeks, demanding entrance.
His hand abandoned your aching nipple and came to rest against your throat. It was a terrible reminder - this man could cut off your breath with a single squeeze.
"It is God’s will that you should be sanctified."
His cock pushed at the apex of your thighs and slowly slid between them, your cunt lips rubbing along the length of him.
He groaned softly, his hand tightening around your throat. He slowly thrust himself between your thighs and the slick wetness of your pussy dripped onto him.
You felt your body growing warmer and warmer. The pit of your stomach ached in a way that could only be satisfied by his cock. And yet he continued to deny you - rubbing himself between your thighs and teasing your cunt with the friction.
No, you mustn't give in to your desire. This was undoubtedly some incubus, some demon.
And even knowing that, you want to be fucked by it. By him.
He was going faster now and the friction against your clit was unbearable. If you had a voice, you would have been whimpering.
He moaned, deep in his throat. His stubble grated against your cheek as he dipped his mouth toward your neck. He brushed his lips across your skin, tracing lower and lower, until his lips rested at the sensitive juncture between shoulder and neck.
"Shall I leave a mark, sister? So that you may look upon it and be reminded of your sin?"
He nipped at your skin and his teeth felt dangerously sharp.
"Shall I leave a mark? So that you may look upon it and know you have been cleansed?"
His hand still rested on your neck and he used it to pull you closer against him. You felt yourself choke and panic ripped through your body.
He chuckled, and it sounded strangely lecherous combined with his ragged breathing and the slick sound of his cock fucking your thighs. Thankfully he loosened his grip once he was satisfied with your closeness and you could breathe again.
"The dawn comes." He dropped his hand from your throat to your waist and held you flush against him. You could feel hard muscles that flexed with every thrust.
"I long to stay, sister. But doesn't th-the bible say to ask penance in the d-darkest hour?" He was struggling to keep his composure as his cock rammed itself between your legs.
He held you in place with his arm curled around you. Your thighs were warm and slick and almost as sweet as pussy. Oh, how he ached for you.
His breath was coming faster and he growled a little with every thrust. Your poor clit was aching from overstimulation but if he knew about it, he didn't care. His fingers dug painfully into your flesh and he pressed his face against your shoulder to stifle his moans.
You felt close to the edge yourself. Your nipples were burning to be touched and you felt your insides knotting up.
"You filthy fucking sinner," he growled and that was all it took.
You were still riding the waves of your orgasm when he bit your neck and snarled. His cock throbbed against your thighs and hot cum spilled across your slit and down your legs.
He breathed in slowly. When he spoke, he sounded almost mocking.
"Worry not for your sins, sister."
He pulled his cock out from between your thighs. His hands drifted over you, pulling your negligee and panties back into place. His finger scraped up some of the cum on your legs and touched it to your lips, smearing it across them like some perverse kiss.
"Afterall, purificati sumus per caritatem."
You felt the bed dip as he climbed off. Strangely, without his touch you felt yourself slowly falling back asleep. A single thought haunted you as his footsteps faded away.
'Purificati...' wasn't that the exact same phrase the young priest kept using in his sermon?
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Matthew 12 30 He that is not with me is against me; and he that gathereth not with me scattereth abroad. 31 Wherefore I say unto you, All manner of sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men: but the blasphemy against the Holy Ghost shall not be forgiven unto men. 32 And whosoever* speaketh a word against the Son of man, it shall be forgiven him: but whos…
