The Vampire Kiss Chapter Four Slut on the Altar
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The Vampire's KissChapter 4: Slut On The Altar free porn video
The metal door boomed shut behind Abigail D'Angelo. The room was pitch-black. Her naked feet flexed on the cold concrete. She didn't mind the cold or the dark. She could see. Everything was painted in hues of blue in the absent of light.
This was her room now. Her Sire's orders.
Abigail felt the oppression of the sun outside the room and the walls of Faust Tower in downtown Chicago. She curled down naked on the floor, her clothing having been stripped away by Faust, the vampire who Sired her, the moment she arrived before she was shoved into here. She curled up on her side, her arm acting as a pillow.
And closed her eyes.
Damien's face filled her mind as she sank into sleep. I let him die. There was no way for him to get the keys.
That saddened her. It was her Sire's will for Damien to die by sunlight, but the human part of Abigail loved her husband. If she was still human, guilt would have clouded her mind and kept sleep away.
She plunged into her dreams.
Abigail watched herself stalking through the cafeteria, moving on the balls of her feet, crossbow in hand. It was ... surreal to the vampiress. She sat on one of the cafeteria tables. Her Sire, Faust, watched in the shadows behind the Dream-Abigail as the still-human hunter scanned the darkened room for the vampire.
An exhilaration stirred through Abigail as she watched Faust stalk her dream self. Abigail squeezed her thighs together. Metal chains clinked. They were wrapped around her naked body, made of black iron pitted with blood and rust.
Faust moved, shadow-walking as he crept up on Dream-Abigail. It was his vampire gift. Abigail hadn't learned what hers was yet. Every vampire had one. Shadow-walking was a powerful ability. Faust would melt into the shadows and then step out of another one.
He grew closer to the oblivious Dream-Abigail. The real Abigail watched, remembering how tense she was as she stalked through the cafeteria. Then Faust appeared before Dream-Abigail. She fired her crossbow bolt, but he vanished back into the shadows and appeared behind her. The real Abigail's heart beat faster as she watched her dream self fight.
"I am good," Abigail purred. Faust constantly was forced to dive into the shadows by her dream self's attacks. "Not better than Sire, but I was amazing."
Abigail remembered the exhilarating terror of the fight mixed with the slow realization that this vampire wasn't newly turned but experienced. Faust wasn't a vampire for Abigail to tackle without Damien for back up.
Vials of holy water smashed on tables. Crossbow bolts twanged through the dark. Faust danced through the shadows, moving with the grace of a vampire. The real Abigail licked her lips, her nipples aching as the climax of the fight drew closer.
Any moment.
Faust ripped the crossbow from Dream-Abigail's hand before seizing her throat. Abigail's own throat tightened, remembering her Sire's crushing grip choking off her air. The vampiress smiled as the dream version of herself ripped out a silver knife and stabbed it into her Sire's thigh.
"I shouldn't be happy about hurting Sire," Abigail whispered. "Even if the knife hadn't done anything permanent."
"You should be proud," a cold, sultry voice hissed.
A third Abigail appeared, naked and predatory. Her face had a shadowed cast, her lips bright-red with blood. More blood splattered her naked body, the coppery scent exciting the real Abigail. Hunger burned in Vampiress-Abigail's eyes.
She was a true hunter, far beyond the human version that was slammed to the ground by Faust, pinned by his strong grip.
"No," Dream-Abigail croaked as she struggled for life.
That's when I knew I was dead. That I was too weak to stop Sire.
Vampiress-Abigail strolled around Faust and Dream-Abigail struggling on the ground. Clothing tore. Dream-Abigail was flipped onto her stomach, the cement cold on her tits. Her jeans were ripped off, baring a curvy ass prodded by Faust's hard cock.
"This is where he made us weak," Vampiress-Abigail hissed. "We were strong before."
"We lost," the real Abigail pointed out.
Faust thrust into Dream-Abigail's asshole as his teeth buried into her neck. The real Abigail shuddered, her body remembering the moment of duel penetration—hot cock reaming her asshole, sharp teeth piercing her neck.
"Yes," sighed Dream-Abigail as Faust's vampire venom drugged her body. "Oh, yes."
The real Abigail's eyes fluttered. It had been ecstasy when her Sire fucked her ass and drank her blood. The pleasure had been so intense as she grew weaker and weaker. Her vision had fuzzed. The pleasure had only increased as he sucked out her blood.
Her asshole had gripped Faust's cock. Burning, painful pleasure radiated from her bowels, mixing with the ecstasy of his bite. As her blood pumped out of her body, her orgasm had built and built until it exploded through her. Her asshole had writhed about Faust's thrusting dick.
"So good," moaned Dream-Abigail as her body shuddered its last convulses while Faust flooded her asshole with his cum, beginning the process of turning her into a vampiress.
My rebirth.
"Whore," Faust growled then spat on Dream-Abigail's face.
"He made us his," Abigail moaned, her hand touching her cheek. Her Sire rose from Dream-Abigail's corpse, his cum leaking out of her asshole. "He gifted us with immortality."
"He made us his slave," spat Vampiress-Abigail as she scrubbed at her cheek. Then she seized the chains wrapped tight about the real Abigail's naked body. "Pathetic. You submitted."
"He's my Sire."
"He's our enemy." Vampiress-Abigail straddled the real Abigail's waist, their naked breasts pressing together. The blood splattering Vampiress-Abigail's body smeared on the real Abigail. "You need to break free."
"Why would I want to?"
"Revenge." Vampiress-Abigail savored the word. "For our murder. For our enslavement. For our love."
Vampiress-Abigail kissed the real Abigail. She moaned into the kiss, savoring the coppery blood on Vampiress-Abigail's lips.
Damien's blood.
For a single moment, Abigail tried to break out of her iron chains. But they were too strong, crushing her, driving her back into submission. Vampiress-Abigail hissed in frustration and slid off the real Abigail.
"Stop being weak, bitch. Be strong."
Abigail looked down at her chains. "No one's strong enough to break these chains." Vampiress-Abigail sneered. "You were strong before. Remember the strength that drove you into your High School at eighteen to face your first vampire."
Jezebel the demon floated through the Ether, the reality that separated Life from Beyond. From here, demons and angels could affect the lives of mortals. She hovered around Father Augustine, the chaplain to a pair of vampire hunters.
Father Augustine was important. He would protect a valuable client. The demon merely had to finish corrupting him.
He was a priest, a shaman. He had sworn the sacred oaths, giving him power over monsters and the undead. His prayers helped to armor Damien and Abigail D'Angelo, the Knights Venator that hunted vampires with Father Augustine. His power was so attractive to Jezebel, and if she could corrupt him in the sanctum of his church, his soul would crack.
And she would fill it.
The priest pulled his parish van into Our Lady of Heaven, the Catholic church for the small town of Pingree Grove outside of Chicago. He had driven from Santa Fe with the weapons and equipment stored in the back.
He wasn't alone. The weapon of Jezebel's corruption—a runaway girl, barely eighteen, named Joy—was with him. She was the priest's slut. He had dominated her and claimed her fully as his thanks to a few interventions from Jezebel.
"So this is it?" Joy asked. "Where you will teach me to fight evil?"
"Yes," the priest grinned as he stared at her lush thighs revealed by her small shorts. "And you will repay me."
"I will, Father," she nodded, her nipples hard.
Jezebel smiled as the final instrument of her plan walked up, a tartan skirt swirling about her naked thighs—Mary Daniels. A young woman so corrupted by sin, Jezebel didn't even have to nudge her on this path.
"Hi, Father," a voice purred as Father Hyrum Augustine climbed out of the van, tired after the long drive. "I'm glad you're here. I was so naughty last night. I need to confess all. My. Sins." Her last three words were punctuated by her breathy passion.
A shudder ran through the priest—Mary Daniels, the source of all his temptations. The first time he fucked Joy, it was the bleached-blonde creature strutting before him he had imagined. Mary was a coquettish eighteen-year-old, far too aware how her tight, youthful body made men ache. Her breasts were small points in her tight boob tube and her short, pink-and-black tartan skirt swirled about her bare thighs.
They were tan and perfect.
The little whore tempts me with sin. Father Augustine's cock swelled to a full mast beneath his black cassock.
"I just returned from a long trip," Father Augustine said, trying to fight his sin. Women always tempt men with their filthy bodies. She is just as much a whore as Joy.
"But ... what if I were to die without confessing all my dirty, wicked sins." Mary's nipples were hard against her boob tube.
The little strumpet tempts me. Her wickedness knows no bounds. I should bend her over the altar and fuck her.
"Father?" Joy said, walking around the van holding his duffel bag and her backpack. "Where would you like this?"
Mary blinked.
"She's a ... volunteer," Father Augustine quickly said. "She'll be helping out around the church in exchange for a roof and food. She is ... most unfortunate."
"How wonderfully generous of you, Father," Mary purred, her blue eyes twinkling. "Why don't you unlock the church, and I'll wait in the confession box for you."
Wicked harlot. She wants to make me hard again and leave the church without satiating what she aroused. The priest glanced at Joy. An idea crossed his mind.
"Very well, child," Father Augustine said, pulling out his keys from a pocket. He walked to the church's side door and unlocked it. "Wait inside. I'll be there in a few minutes."
"Thank you, Father," grinned Mary.
She spun, her skirt flaring up, flashing the bottoms of her asscheeks and a hint of pink, frilly panties before she marched in. Father Augustine's cock ached harder. Sweat broke out across his forehead as he watched her hips sway.
"Wow," Joy whispered. "What a whore."
"She's just like you," Father Augustine growled. He turned and pinched Joy's hard nipple through her blouse. "You'll be quiet when you follow me into the confessional booth. You will kneel and you will suck my cock while I listen to her filthy sins."
"Yes, Father," gasped Joy, her eyes wide, her lips oh, so moist.
"Good, my cottage is back here. You will be sleeping in there from now on."
Joy nodded and he let go of her nipple. Her thighs squeezed tight together. The little whore was wet, eager to give into her sins and tempt him into fornication. The memory of her hot, silky, wet flesh wrapped about his cock shuddered through the priest.
Father Augustine led the whore to his cottage while thoughts of Mary danced in his head. She was bent over the altar, her skirt sliding up and exposing her naked pussy. For once, the little whore would pay for leading the Father into sin.
For a moment, Father Augustine thought he heard a wicked laugh drift through his ears.
After deposing his duffel bag and Joy's backpack in his small, austere bedroom—a small bed, white comforter, nightstand, crucifix on the wall, and a single photo of his dead sister—the priest strode back to his church. His dick ached. He fought the urge to squeeze himself.
"To be a hunter of evil," Father Augustine said, "you must be aware of your surroundings and know how to move undetected."
"Yes, Father," Joy said. "I will do my best to follow after you in silence and relieve the sinful desires that whore stirred in you."
Father Augustine smiled. "Exactly. For what is woman's place?"
"On her knees, Father," Joy answered.
"Sweet child," he groaned.
The side door led into the worship hall of Our Lady of Heaven. It was ornate, covered in stained glass windows and dark-stained pews. A statue of the Virgin Mary cradling the infant Savior dominated the wall behind the altar.
He gazed at her. The only woman who wasn't a whore in the history of mankind.
Father Augustine crossed himself—Joy clumsy copied. Then, his heart thudding, he marched to the back where the confessionals were. One had the curtain drawn, the sandal-clad feet of Mary pocking out the bottom. Her toes were painted bright pink, attracting his attention in the gloom.
Joy padded quietly behind Father Augustine while his steps boomed through the empty hall and echoed back and forth. Mary's toes curled and then shifted as he approached. The priest pictured her in there squirming, her panties wet with her sinful juices as she knelt on the bench and feigned penitence.
No woman is ever penitent for their sexual sins.
Father Augustine opened the door to the confessional and sank down on the hard, wooden bench. Joy knelt before him, squeezing in as he shut the door. His legs were spread wide, his knees touching both sides of the confessional as Joy lifted up his cassock, her hands soft as they reached his underwear. He opened the privacy screen.
"Bless me Father, for I have sinned," purred Mary, pride filling her voice. "It has been four days since my last confession."
"Yes, Child," Father Augustine said, fighting off his pleasure as Joy sucked his cock into her mouth.
Warm, wet, hot paradise surrounded him. Joy sucked and swirled her tongue, her hand caressing his balls. The priest stared at Mary through the grill, her hands out of sight, her cheeks red. She shifted on the bench, letting out a sigh.
"I was so wicked last night, Father," Mary gushed. "I tried to be pure. I tried not to sin with boys. I tried so hard. But I couldn't fight it."
Of course you couldn't, slut. "Go on."
Joy sucked harder. The priest's eyes squeezed shut at the bliss radiating from his cock.
"It was all Brad's fault, really," Mary panted, her voice growing thicker. "He asked me out to Risqué, the new club that opened in Chicago. I knew I would be wicked, but I couldn't fight myself."
"You have to try, Child," Father Augustine groaned. You're just a whore. A slut. You couldn't fight your pussy. His hand squeezed Joy's blonde hair, forcing her to take more of his cock into her mouth.
"I do," lied Mary. "At the club, the music was pulsing and Brad gave me ecstasy. Everything was wonderful after that. All the colors were beautiful and I just wanted to dance and love him. I was so wild and free."
"Drugs, too, Mary?" His dick throbbed in Joy's mouth.
"I know. I'm so bad. But that's not the worse. Brad took me to the back, hiked up my skirt, and slammed his dick into me." A breathy shudder escaped her lips. "He was so thick inside of me. The ecstasy made it wild. I writhed against him, our hips pumping to the base of the dance music. All the colors shone around us.
"It was heavenly."
Fucking whore.
Joy sucked harder. She bobbed her head, no longer being quiet as Mary described in detail her orgasm, the way she shuddered against Brad, and how his cum shot into her pussy. Father Augustine grit his teeth, fighting his cum as Mary kept talking.
"After he spilled his seed in me, Father," moaned Mary, her voice breathless with arousal, her shoulders moving, her hands busy doing something.
The slut's masturbating in confession. What a whore. She will have to be punished for this affront to the Lord's house.
"Another girl came up. I didn't know who she was, but she fell to her knees and ... licked me clean."
"You engaged in lesbian sex?" gasped the Priest, his dick erupting into Joy's mouth. He groaned through clenched teeth as the pleasure rushed through his body. His head banged back against the wall while Joy swallowed every drop.
"I did, Father," gasped Mary, her body swaying. "I was so wicked. I came so hard on her lips. And when she finished, I kissed her, sharing the sexual fluids. We danced and ground on each other, and then I went down on her while all the guys watched.
"She tasted so spicy and delicious. I loved her, Father. I was so bad." Her voice rose an octave. "I loved her so much. I shoved my tongue into her pussy. I licked her out and, oh, God, I made her cum so hard."
"Don't take the Lord's name in vein," panted Father Augustine as he watched Mary orgasm on her fingers.
"I was so wicked. I made her cum and I loved it, Father. I'm such a sinner." Her eyes fluttered and she tossed back her head. "Such a wicked sinner." Her breathing slowed. She let out a sigh and then lifted her right hand up, her fingers shiny in the dim light, and licked them clean. "Such a wicked sinner. What shall my penance be?"
Despite cumming, Father Augustine was still hard. He was a man approaching fifty, but in the last few days he had finally given into his sexual desires. Thirty years of abstinence gave him the stamina of a younger man.
Especially when a nubile eighteen year old just masturbated in the confessional while talking about her lesbian sin.
"This will require a serious penance, child," Father Augustine panted. "More than any 'our Fathers' or 'hail Marys' can handle." The priest stood up, opened the door, and slipped past Joy. He yanked open the curtain to Mary's box. "Especially when you masturbated like a slut in my confessional."
"Father," gasped Mary as the priest yanked her out by her hair.
"It is time you learn how a whore relieves the sinful desires she arouses in a man with her deliberate, teasing ways."
Joy peaked her head out and smiled as Father Augustine dragged Mary towards the altar. The priest smiled back at Joy, delight in the way she rubbed at the crotch of her shorts, trying to relieve her sinful ache.
Mary didn't fight as Father Augustine pushed her into the altar. She bent over it, her bleached-blonde hair spilling across the pristine, white cloth trimmed in gold. Her delicious rear shook, her skirt hiking up to reveal the bottom curves of her ass. A tramp stamp of a winged heart decorated her lower back.
"Such a sinful, wanton child," growled Father Augustine. "You came into a house of God dressed like a slut."
"I am so sinful," Mary moaned as she wiggled her hip. "Give me penance, Father. I need it. I need your strong hand to keep me from sin."
Father Augustine flipped up her skirt. She wore a pair of pink panties, the legbands and waistband frilled with lace. The skimpy cloth was cut high in the back, revealing the bottom halves of her smooth, bubbly ass. The crotch pressed tight to her pussy, stained dark with her excitement and molding to her flushed pussy.
A cameltoe.
"These are the panties you wear in a house of God?" he roared, ripping the skimpy things down her thighs, exposing her flush, shaved vulva. Her slit was virginal tight, betraying her whorish nature.
"I am so wicked," she moaned.
His hand cracked down on her ass. The slap echoed through the near empty church, the excellent acoustics echoing it back over and over. Mary moaned as her ass reddened. She wiggled again, her excitement building.
"I'm so sorry for being sinful, Father," she lied. Father Augustine knew she lied.
They are all sluts. Joy, Mary, Britney, and even Abigail. I wouldn't be surprised if she whored herself out while visiting her family, leaving Damien and myself to hunt alone. I doubt her mother was even sick.
Father Augustine smacked his hand down hard on Mary's ass, savoring the way her cheeks jiggled as he imagined Abigail bent over the altar. Her ass always looked amazing in the tight jeans and fatigues she wore on the hunt. Her red hair made her vivacious.
They are all sluts.
The feminine laughter echoed through his ears. He glance at Joy. She sat on a pew, her eyes wide with rapture as she watched. She hadn't laughed. Father Augustine shook his head and cracked his hand down on Mary's ass again.
"You're just a whore."
"I am," Mary moaned. "Spank the sin out of me, Father."
"There are not enough spankings in the world to make you pure, slut," he growled as his hand fell again.
"No," she groaned and shuddered, her hips shaking.
His hand fell again and again, her moans and the smacks echoing through the church. Father Augustine's cock throbbed beneath his cassock, aching more with every fall of his hand. Mary's ass burned bright red.
Red is a whore's color.
Crack!
"Father!" Mary groaned.
"It is not enough," growled Father Augustine as he hiked up his cassock. His dick pressed against Mary's naked thigh. "You have pulled me into sin. You filthy whore."
"Yes!" screamed Mary as he thrust his cock into her hot pussy. Her sheath gripped him as he buried deep into her pussy.
He was violating the altar by fucking her. She drove me to this heinous sin with her whorish ways.
His balls slapped into her flesh as the priest pounded her, his grunts mixing with her moans as they chorused through the church. A dark, depraved hymnal of worship to sin. Father Augustine savored the obscene, wet noise of his cock thrusting in and out of her wet depths.
"That's it, whore," he growled. "You brought this on yourself."
"I did," moaned Mary. "I've been burning for weeks to be fucked by you, Father. You are so sexy. Oh, I've been so wicked just so I had the juiciest sins to confess to you."
"I knew you were a temptress given flesh," he snarled.
Her pussy was tight and hot. Father Augustine shuddered and groaned as he took her harder and harder. Her pussy was so juicy, so delicious. She drove him wild as she bucked and rocked against him. He grit his teeth as his balls tensed.
"I'm going to cum in you, whore," he growled. "It would serve you right to be bred, but you are such a slut I imagine you are on birth control."
"I am, Father," she moaned. "Spill your seed into my cunt. Please. I want to feel it in me all day long."
Her whorish words shuddered through the priest. He closed his eyes as he slammed into Mary, imagining it was Abigail's married cunt wrapped about his cock for that one instant. His balls boiled. His cum erupted.
He filled her cunt with jizz.
Jezebel shuddered as she came on her fingers. Dark cracks fissured the father's soul as he soiled the blessed altar of his church. His seed erupted into the slut's cunt and dribbled out onto the altar, their sexual fluids staining the pristine cloth.
The demon entered the cracks, possessing Father Augustine. She drank in the last dregs of his climax as she worked her changes in him. The priest ripped his cock out of Mary as her phone chirped. The slut smiled as she pulled up her panties.
"Mmm, that was great, Father Augustine," purred Mary as she wiggled her hips. "I have to run. Britney's heading over to pick me up, but I'll be back to morrow to confess the sins I committed today."
"Yes," Father Augustine groaned as he shuddered. He gripped the altar as the last vestiges of good inside of him warred with Jezebel.
Jezebel batted the good aside. He had brought this upon himself and he no longer had the strength to resist her. His shamanistic powers were twisted towards hell as he sat on the altar and shuddered, his eyes fixed on Mary's ass, still lusting for the girl.
I've fucked Mary. But there's others. Young, busty Britney, Abigail, Mrs. Anders, Mrs. Lawson...
His lusts for the women of his parish aided Jezebel and she finished twisting him from the holy to the profane. No longer a holy shaman but a dark warlock.
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