She's Possessed

The sound was wrong, high and girlish, nothing like the calm, measured voice that had been leading the ceremony minutes ago. She lowered her hands slowly. Her eyes were glowing the same deep red as the sigil had been. When she turned to Evie, the giggle turned into a slow, mocking smile.

Before Evie could react, Maria’s hand shot out and yanked the front of Evie’s gown down hard. The lace and silk gave way with a soft rip. Evie’s breasts spilled free, full, pale, nipples already tightening in the cool air of the church. Evie shrieked and fell back onto her ass, the impact making her tits bounce.

“Ooooh,” she purred, voice overlapping with something deeper, something that echoed just under her own like a second speaker in the same throat. “Now that I’ve seen your pretty boobies, I’m all good, dear.”

The congregation didn’t gasp. Didn’t scream. They just watched, calm, placid, like this was part of the program.

Maria motioned with one finger, lazy and commanding. Evie’s body jerked upright on its own, legs straightening, hands pinned uselessly at her sides. She couldn’t cover herself. Couldn’t even try. She stood there trembling, exposed, tears starting to well in her eyes as she stared at her aunt.

Maria rose smoothly to her feet. She reached up and tore the wimple and veil from her head in one motion. Jet-black hair tumbled free. It shifted as it fell, darkening to a fiery, almost glowing fire red that seemed to drink in the light and throw it back hotter. She grabbed the front of her habit next and ripped it open like it was paper. The black fabric shredded away, revealing a skin-tight leather bodysuit underneath, black, glossy, cut low enough to show deep cleavage, hugging every curve of her body like it had been painted on. Full breasts, narrow waist, hips that flared wide. She looked nothing like the nun who’d been smiling at them ten minutes ago.

She rolled her neck once, the crack loud in the silence. Then she stretched, arms crossing over her head, back arching so the leather creaked faintly. When she lowered her arms, she turned to Damian with a slow, satisfied smile.

“Out of all the ones you’ve given me so far, boy,” she said, that double voice still threading through her words, “this one I like the most.”

Damian inclined his head in a small, theatrical bow.

“I give you three more days in exchange,” she said.

“Your servant is pleased, my lord,” Damian replied, dipping into a shallow curtsy that somehow managed to look both mocking and reverent at the same time.

Ben stood frozen, throat still locked, heart slamming against his ribs. Evie was shaking beside him, arms rigid at her sides, breasts still bare. The church remained eerily quiet. No one moved. No one spoke. They just sat there, calm and waiting, like they’d been told this was exactly how weddings were supposed to go.

Damian straightened, eyes sliding back to Evie.

Sister Maria spoke again, like two people talking at once from the same mouth. “Boy, I know you have plans for your toys here, but I can’t be bothered to wait around. Lend me one of them and I’ll leave you to it.”

“Understood, my lord,” Damian replied, dipping his head with genuine reverence this time. “Let me find you a suitable ****.”

He turned slowly, scanning the pews, rubbing his chin like he was picking out wine at a restaurant. The church stayed quiet, everyone still under that blanket calm he’d draped over them earlier. No one fidgeted. No one whispered. They just watched.

Then his eyes lit up. An idea had hit.