Monsterfucker Tapes - Demon Edition

Trans incubus sex magic! Orgy in a church! Demon seducing a virgin priest! Cocks and cunts and tits and cum!

The transcubus' genitals are referred to with words like cunt and pussy; enthusiastically.

While there is dub-con elements (on account of the Incubus of it all), there is no physical violence, but it is implied that the presence of the incubus is an aphrodisiac.

Finally, the incubus' target is a priest and is frequently referred to as 'Father'- there is no incest in here, the congregation are entirely unrelated, but the word is there.

Also if the notion of an incubus in league with Satan corrupting an entire church with sex isn't a turn on, I'd skip this one.

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Forgive yourself, Father, for you will sin.

I watch you on the pulpit, in your robes and vestments, and I think of how easy it will be to make you fall.

I listen to you preach about resisting the agents of Satan, oblivious to one sat front and centre every Sunday, muscles in my core clenching and releasing my way to a quiet edge to your fervour, your misplaced belief that God will protect you from Evil.

You haven't noticed me in all these months I've been waiting. Oozing lust out into your flock- Have you noticed how many of them confess their sexual desire? Swapping their spouses, or wasting their Sunday evenings on the self pleasure they imagine while you preach the word of God itself.

Can you see them fidget? Can you see the furtive glances, the downcast eyes, the hands lingering a little too high up the thigh next to them? I can. I can see the desires blooming inside their pathetic human heads, too horny to wonder why.

It must be hard for you to pretend not to notice the pair in the back row, lit as they are under stained glass sunlight, a woman breathing deeply and rapidly while her companion's hand disappears up her skirt; You must have thought it was far too short for service when you were greeting them, did you think about her wet cunt kissing the wood of the pew as she tries not to moan?

I have to say, Father, your flock have been so easy to turn from the restraint of God, surprisingly so- Is it a reflection of what you're keeping locked inside? Do you yearn to press your lips to cunt and cock? To feel hands roam over your poor, touch-starved body?

Would you ever have thought that your Vow of Celibacy came from the mind of Satan? It makes it so much easier to slip our tendrils into your mind, around your soul.

The Priests who take themselves in their own hands, desperate gasping in the darkness while they draw the cum from their balls to drip down those Holy Cocks, they're harder to get to, would you believe it? I'm sure you think it would be the opposite- Giving themselves to sin such as that would make it so easy for one like me to straddle their waist and plunge my dripping demon cunt down around their desperation.

Not so, unfortunately for you, Father. I can tell, the tension in your posture, a demon knows when the shepherd of the flock hasn't even touched himself, let alone another. It draws us, makes us hunger for the untamed beast inside you that just wants to fuck.

The couple in the back are brazen now, I can hear her moaning oaths to her God- where is He now, mortals, when you would need Him most? Can you hear the wet sounds her body makes? The slapping of skin on skin?

The rest of the flock can- Some are staring, bitten lips and quickened breath. Others openly touching themselves, gazing at the first to fall with heavy eyes and sin in their hearts. Oh, Father, it looks so good to let go, doesn't it? To finally forsake He who has withheld this pure, earthly sensation from you; I stand, and walk the aisle to the heavy doors.

I hear your voice shake as you continue with your sermon, I wonder if you think I'll walk out, snapping your congregation out of their lustful trance; but as I walk past each row, your parishioners moan in ecstasy, turning to friend and foe to fall to me; an Incubus of an unspoken order of power.

I close the doors, a touch of my finger upon the locks enough to prevent anyone from disturbing this Unholy Orgy, a feast for any of my kind. I feel the first orgasm in the room spark, and the spiritual residue languidly rolls into my aura- it's what's making your cock strain underneath your robes, Father. But it's your own desires that make it drip pre-cum from its tip.

You'll be alright, Father, I pick my targets specifically. I can tell you never wanted to be a Priest, never wanted the pomp, the chastity- but you honoured it. It's time to honour thyself, Father, to honour the body and not the soul- I'll look after the rest, don't worry.

As I walk back down the aisle, your voice breaking on your sermon like a ship on rocks without a lighthouse, I shed the mortal form I've been wearing. Gone is the entirely average man, my pale grey skin, the red glow in my eyes, the soft, muscular chest leading down to my perfect cunt- I saw this in your dreams, Father, I know what your body wants, the form it pulls unwilling orgasms from your sleeping body to. Honestly, Father, it's more common than you think- Men with cunts have always been in fashion, and I'm sure we always will be.

My edging has prepared my body beyond its natural state, my tcock straining out from my body- That's what you like to call them, isn't it, Father? When you dream of being on your knees and worshipping my body, you think of my hard tcock between your lips, did you think it was possible? Did your upbringing make you think you'd never be able to fuck another man's pussy?

Unfortunate if it did, Father- you could have found a human man, left your soul untarnished by the breaking of your vows. Oh, I know you haven't broken them, Father. Not yet.

I step onto the dais, and point at the floor. You know what I want. You know it in your soul, your aching cock, because it's what you want. You step out from behind the pulpit, and remove your robes in a clumsy rush-

"Don't worry, Father," I purr, "I'm not going to disappear. Not until I'm done," This is the first time I've spoken aloud in your Church, Father, and at the sound of my voice, the orgy below us flairs into fresh life, clothes shoved to the side, faces buried in cunts, cocks stroked by hands, clits rubbing against clits, cocks thrusting together in clasped hands. This Church is a Church of Lust now, Father, of pleasure. Don't worry, Father, no cock will enter any hole until yours is in mine- No orgasm will spill forth until yours empties into me.

Your clothes fall to the floor, and I finally get to gaze at your hard cock- I kneel before you, lean forward, and kiss the slick tip. Your moan is a desperate chorus that spreads throughout the hall, for a breath everyone feels each touch like their first.

I can tell you're too close to climax, Father, and I've been circling you for too long- I feel the desire as a hunger, I will not wait any longer.

"Lie back. You've earned your salvation." I command, lust dripping from every syllable and seeping into your brain.

You do, of course, you knew you would the second the first drop of pre-cum slipped up and out of your throbbing cock when you could see your parishioner being fingered in that golden light under the stained glass. You knew you'd give your soul to me, you knew I'd look after it.

I stand above you, my own desire leaking from my cunt, and you gaze up at it, pleading, needing to see me lower my body carefully down.

I sink down, pressing my dick against yours, feeling your cock throb against me, and slide my hips forward until your tip is kissing my entrance.

You can't move, of course, it would be over too quickly then, your poor cock hasn't felt the touch of your own hand, let alone demonic cunt- If you could move, could thrust desperately into me, you'd cum too fast, Father, it simply wouldn't do.

So feel me grind, and slide, and twitch against you, until I decide you've begged enough, until your voice is raw, and your flock are a writhing mass desperately trying to throw themselves off the edge of orgasm and into my lustful abyss, and I raise my hips up, letting the cold air hurt you for just a moment before I slowly, tortuously slide my cunt down over your virgin cock.

It's nothing spiritually special, a virgin cock, but fuck does it feel good to know that your best fuck was your first, that you'll never be able to feel pleasure as good as this. Do you think you'll ever cum anywhere else? Do you think that every cunt after mine will leave you frustrated and throbbing, but unable to finish?

Your cock sinks into me, harder than you've ever been in your life, and I start to ride you, I'm milking your cock with my cunt, and I let you raise your hand to jerk my tdick off as I fuck you-

"I think I'll let you cum soon, Father, but when you do? When you cum, deep, deep inside, your soul belongs to me. It will empty out of your heavy, full balls and into my demon cunt. Is it worth it? Is the price of admission worth pumping a demon full of your cum?"

You try to moan out, cry out yes, please, dear g- but you stop, a wordless moan caught in your throat.

"Good boy, God's not listening any more. Beg the other one. Beg Lucifer for your orgasm, Mortal,"

And you do.

You Praise Him, you beg him, each thrust of my cunt down onto your cock you cry out His name, and soon your flock joins in, all of them begging me and the Unholy Lucifer for the best orgasm of their lives.

"Cum for Satan, mortal, cum deep in this demon cunt for your new God!" I command, cunt milking your cock with my own orgasm, and I feel it. I feel your cum flow into me, rope after rope of pent-up cum painting my insides, and as I am cumming and you are cumming, I let the congregation cum- this Orgiastic Rite of Satan desecrating the very land we fuck on.

"Forgive yourself, Father, for you have sinned." I raise myself off your still-twitching cock, and step forward.

"And you'll only get better at it," I grin, and lower my cum-filled cunt down onto your face.