Work Text:
Lumine wakes to her unholy dreams come to life. Her nightgown is hitched above her waist as clawed hands roam her body, and her panties are halfway down her thighs—the elastic pulled tight under Signora’s fingers. The succubus smirks at her from between her legs.
“Good morning, darling,” Signora says.
Lumine draws a breath, but before she can cry out, a hand seals itself over her mouth.
“Hush, sweet thing,” Arlecchino coos in her ear, voice husky and seductive. “Are you not happy to see us? After you called out for us so desperately?”
Lumine would never! Her denial is muffled against Arlecchino’s palm, but the Lord is her witness, Lumine has vowed to follow a pure and righteous path as a sister of the cloth, and no demons will tempt her from her calling. Despite months of sinful torment from Signora and Arlecchino, Lumine has remained firm; she will not falter now.
Her rosary beads lay at her bedside. Perhaps if she can get ahold of them and pray, she can ward off the succubi. She reaches blindly, but Arlecchino catches her hand and laces their fingers together.
“Be a good girl now,” Arlecchino says.
The hand across Lumine’s mouth shifts, and two of Arlecchino’s fingers force their way between her lips. Her tongue bucks under their touch, her throat tightening in discomfort at the unfamiliar sensation.
Between her spread knees, Signora plays with her panties. “You made quite the mess last night,” she says. She drags a finger through the sticky remains of arousal caught in Lumine’s panties, and the gusset glues itself to her skin. “Tell me, did you dream of us?”
Tears prick at Lumine’s eyes. For months now, her sleep has been plagued by groping touches and wandering tongues. Though she has prayed time and again for mercy, God continues to test her.
Arlecchino tugs Lumine’s hand upward. Caught on Lumine’s arm, her nightgown is rucked up until her breasts tumble free.
Salve Regina, Lumine prays as she struggles in vain, mother of mercy—
“You have remained laudably devout,” Arlecchino says, “but we are fast approaching the moment of truth.”
Signora’s hands curl around Lumine’s knees and pry her legs further apart. “Will you serve your God in chaste monotony? Or will you fall to sin?”
Arlecchino’s lips meet the shell of Lumine’s ear. “We can give you a taste of true paradise, sweet thing,” she says. “Won’t you play with us?”
Signora sits taller. She nods to her companion. “Give our pet her gift, Knave.”
Arlecchino withdraws the fingers from Lumine’s mouth and drops her hand to Lumine’s lower stomach. Saliva smears across her skin. “Relax, sweet thing. This will only hurt a moment.”
A crimson ‘X’ glows in the space beneath Lumine’s navel, and the air warps with waves of heat. In a flash of fire, the shape sears itself into Lumine’s flesh.
She chokes on a sob and scrunches her eyes against the pain.
“Look, pet,” Signora says. “We match.”
Indeed, as Lumine blinks through a watery haze, she can make out an identical mark branded onto Signora’s body.
“We know your desires,” Arlecchino says. “You crave pleasure and release.”
“I don’t,” Lumine protests. “And I didn’t call for you. I would never.”
Signora laughs. “Oh, please. There’s no shame in it, darling.”
“We will give you everything you want,” Arlecchino promises. “You have seen how we touch each other. Now, you will feel it, too.”
Signora’s smirk widens wickedly. “Everything I feel, you feel.” She traces a finger over her lips, and a strange tickle—a ghostly sensation—brushes over Lumine’s lips. “Every wonderful little thing.”
Arlecchino slips out of bed and approaches her fellow demon. With a knee planted on the mattress, she tugs Signora in for a kiss.
Hot breath and the wetness of a tongue caress Lumine’s mouth. Her heels swish against the sheets as she wriggles.
Arlecchino’s strange eyes meet her gaze. “If you want a kiss directly, you need only ask. I would be happy to oblige.”
Lumine sets her jaw. “Never.” She wipes her lips with the back of her hand as if she can scrub the phantom kiss away. “I have committed myself to God. I will not be tempted by you.”
“We’ll see about that,” Signora says. Her visible eye sparkles with too much mischief.
The demons give Lumine no privacy as she dresses, but they do nothing more than lounge together on her bed. The ghost of Arlecchino’s arms wrap around Lumine’s shoulders, but the sensation is far from unpleasant. Still, Lumine pays it no heed as she prepares for the day.
When she leaves for Mass, the succubi remain behind, smug smiles marring otherwise beautiful features. They must have something planned—something deviously diabolical—though Lumine is determined to spoil their satisfaction.
As she takes her place amongst her fellow sisters, roving hands squeeze her arms and tease her stomach. The whispers of touch are easy to ignore—easy to write off as mere imagination. In fact, in the convent’s drafty church, the subtle warmth is welcome against her chilled skin.
It is not until the organ’s pipes vibrate with the echoing melody of a hymn that Arlecchino makes her move.
Worshipful words die on Lumine’s lips as phantom hands cup her breasts beneath her habit. The sisters around her continue, blithely unaware, as Lumine squirms. She looks down, half-expecting to find her clothing tented and rippling over the unholy fingers playing with her chest. The prick of wicked nails feels very real as unseen pinches tease her nipples, but there is no movement from the fabric.
Lumine grits her teeth and stands firm, even as Arlecchino’s mark tingles against her skin and stokes warmth in her belly. She clutches the crucifix dangling from her rosary beads, and the edges dig into her palm—real and grounding. The succubi can toy with her all they wish; she will remain loyal to her Lord God.
Invisible fingers drum against her breasts and bully her nipples with fluttering taps that make her squeeze her thighs together. She can imagine the soft sounds of Signora’s hitched breaths, the way her lips would part under Arlecchino’s ministrations. Lumine has seen the demons tangled together many a time—in dreams and in waking. The two preen under attention, their excitement only fueled further by an audience, and they have exposed Lumine to all manner of lewd acts. Though she would not care to admit it, she has a rather intimate knowledge of their noises and expressions.
Arlecchino’s smile is surely sharpening now as her nails dig into Signora’s breasts. And Signora—Signora’s head is tipping back as she trails her fingers up Arlecchino’s neck and cups her cheek.
So focused is Lumine on her chest and the twinges of pleasure in her core, she is deaf to God’s Word. The priest’s dry, cracking voice might as well be reciting gibberish for all Lumine internalizes.
She chews on her lip. She isn’t supposed to enjoy this. She isn’t enjoying it. Not the warmth curling in her stomach or the shivery sensations dancing between her legs.
Her body complains in disgraceful disappointment as the hands leave her breasts, but the sensations are far from over. Slowly, the touches creep lower, ghost over her stomach and the ticklish curves of her hips until, at last, warm palms settle on her thighs.
Nails scrape across her skin, dangerously close to her groin, and Lumine presses her lips together. She does all she can to brace herself, but she might be in trouble.
Fingers massage the tender flesh of her mound before stretching her lower lips apart. It is strange feeling herself peeled open when her thighs are squeezed so firmly shut, but there is nothing she can do to stop the wandering touches.
The fingers map the borders of her genitals, but the sensations are not nearly as distracting as she had feared. Really, her nipples had been worse. This is nothing. This—
“Ah! ” Lumine trembles as something stimulates the nub between her lower lips directly.
“Sister Lumine?” Barbara tugs on Lumine’s sleeve, a look of concern in her wide eyes. “Are you well?”
Lumine brushes her off. “I’m… I’m fine,” she says. “Just a little dizzy.”
When Barbara faces forward again, Lumine scrunches her habit in balled fists. The finger flicking her clit does not stop, and Lumine’s cheeks burn. She shifts her hips, but there is no escape from the hands that pleasure not her, but Signora.
Wetness gathers between her legs and in her mouth. Her thighs rub and chafe. The world blurs, and her focus shrinks to that finger circling, circling. Pressure builds in her core, pushes her closer and closer to the edge, yet it denies her the fall.
She shakes in silence, petrified of what might leave her mouth if she loses control.
Arlecchino’s voice echoes with the blood rushing in her ears. Be a good girl now. Oh God, she’s going to come. She wants—
All at once, the pressure disappears. She teeters on the brink—stranded, abandoned. She should be relieved, but all that churns in her stomach is frustration.
As if to quell her discontent, the fingers return again. They swipe back and forth through wet folds, and Lumine can imagine the slick sounds of Arlecchino playing with the reddened lips of Signora’s dripping pussy.
In a swift movement, two fingers plunge inside of her. She hiccups, the noise lost beneath a chorus of amens from her sisters. The phantom intrusion stretches her open, but when she clenches, she is met with no resistance.
The liturgical service continues—the other devotees pious and pure—as Lumine is violated by rough, ungodly fingers. She has never been touched like this before, never known this deep, probing pleasure. There have been times she has wondered what it would be like, but even in the darkest of dreams where Arlecchino and Signora strip her bare and have their way with her, she could never conjure the sensations.
The ghost of a palm butts against her vulva as fingers crafted for sin stir her insides. Her eyes burn with tears of guilt. Deny as she might, it feels good. Though, she supposes temptation is only dangerous when it is well and truly tempting.
When the fingers withdraw, Lumine is left weak-kneed and panting. Flanked on both sides by sisters with hands clasped in supplication, she tries to gather herself. She imagines the succubi are far from done with her, but perhaps she can make it until the end of Mass without embarrassing herself.
She closes her eyes and prays.
Something nudges between her legs. It’s thick and solid as it slips against arousal-slickened flesh, and the blunt head prods against her entrance. No. No, no, no. The fingers were one thing, but this? Even if it is not real in the physical sense, she feels her virginity will be forfeit if that thing is allowed inside of her.
With a sharp thrust, the object forces its way through her opening. It fills her, and she fears that she might break. A single tear rolls down her cheek.
May God forgive her for her unwilling participation in this wicked game.
Invisible hands knead her hips as the foreign length fucks into her. Pleasure dances in her core—though surely that is Signora’s joy and ecstasy. There is no way Lumine could enjoy such sexual savagery.
Barbara nudges her, and she yelps. Through the haze of arousal and shame, she sees the sisters in the row ahead processing towards the altar for communion. Without thinking, she steps toward the aisle.
Moving is a mistake. As soon as her legs part, the sensations feel all the more heightened. As she walks, she tries for steadying breaths, but she can’t draw in enough air. In a desperate bid for sanity, she recites a psalm.
Lead me, O Lord, in your righteousness because of my enemies—
A brief flash of clarity takes hold. It is sacrilege to receive the Eucharist in a state of mortal sin, and surely she is committing at least one damnable transgression within the sacred walls of this church at this very moment. Though she cannot say where the demons’ torments end and her own sins begin, she must repent. It is her duty as a woman religious to confess and reconcile herself with God.
A particularly deep thrust sends her reeling. She stumbles into the woman in front of her, bounces off, and clutches the corner of a pew for stability.
Whispers ripple through the sisters surrounding her, but Lumine cannot focus on anything except the pulsing heat in her core. A moan rises in her throat, and she claps a hand over her mouth to catch it. Dear God, she is fast approaching a point of no return. The tight twist of pleasure inside of her is unbearable.
Desperately, she clings to her faith. She is a woman of God!
The coil within tightens yet further. It bends and distorts. Then, in an instant, it snaps.
Lumine’s knees buckle. Her vision blurs as the unleashed pleasure wrecks her insides, and she drops heavily to the floor. She groans into her palm, spit-slick lips dragging against her skin. Her pussy flutters around a disappointing emptiness.
By the Holy Spirit, what has she done? Through her own weakness, she has allowed her tormentors to profane not only the sacred ground here but her body as well. Her dignity is all but shattered.
Worried onlookers shower her with words of concern and offers of help, but Lumine refuses their charity. The demons are hers alone to denounce and cast out. May God grant her the strength to press on.
***
The detached chapel is empty, the small space cloaked in muted colors as light filters through stained glass and diffuses. Lumine approaches the altar on unsteady legs, all too aware of the demonic presences lurking in the shadows. She revives the dormant candles one by one, hoping the glow might ward off those who wish her ill.
“Oh, darling!” Signora’s singsong echoes around Lumine. “Did you enjoy our gift?”
Lumine whirls but finds only laughter.
Arlecchino’s voice winds around Lumine’s neck, traps her in place. “Are you ready to give in to your desires, sweet thing?”
“My only desire is to serve God,” Lumine says.
Arms snake around Lumine’s hips. A chin hooks over her shoulder. “Even now, you resist?” Arlecchino asks, breath tickling her ear.
Lumine’s eyelids flutter. The fingers dimpling her habit could teach her pleasures beyond her most sacrilegious dreams. “I…”
Signora’s face fills her narrowed field of vision. The demon’s tongue traces the perfect curves of her lips, leaves them shiny and inviting. “Won’t you play with us?”
“N-never.” Even Lumine is unconvinced. She straightens her spine and knocks Arlecchino’s hands away. “I am done with your games, demons. Now begone, or I will call for an exorcism.”
Signora laughs. “And admit your mind has fallen prey to us? What will your sisters think?”
Perhaps there is weakness in Lumine’s heart, but faith will be her shield—her final defense.
“Now, now.” Arlecchino moves to Signora’s side. “I believe we have all but lost this time.”
Signora pouts. “But we haven’t—”
“Hush.” Arlecchino silences her companion before turning to Lumine. “One final test,” she says. Her face is carefully blank, but her eyes glint with unknown intent. “If you pass, we will concede defeat.”
Lumine dares to hope. “And you’ll leave me be?”
Arlecchino nods. “We will.”
“Unless, of course, you beg us to stay,” Signora says.
“I won’t.”
Signora curls her fingers beneath her chin. “Don’t be so sure, little sinner.” She glances at her fellow succubus. “What test do you propose?”
“Two kisses,” Arlecchino says.
Signora grins. “Excellent.”
“Kisses?” Lumine’s stomach twists. Her lips remember the ghostly press of an unseen mouth from earlier that morning.
Arlecchino’s expression is predatory. “One kiss from me and one from my dear companion. If you can stand firm after that—if you can keep to your vows—your victory will be absolute.”
Lumine swallows. “I am devoted to my path,” she says. “You will not sway me.”
“That remains to be seen.” Arlecchino looms close, and she snakes a hand behind Lumine’s head. Her fingers tangle roughly in Lumine’s hair beneath her veil and coif.
With a painful yank, Arlecchino forces Lumine into a violent kiss.
Lumine yelps at the bruising clash of lips, and she struggles against the demon’s hold. Arlecchino’s laughter invades her mouth, followed quickly by her tongue. Helpless against the onslaught, Lumine lets the demon do as she pleases.
When the succubus finally releases her, Lumine is dizzy from lack of air, and she stumbles. Signora catches her, cups her face with gentle hands.
This second kiss is much softer, and Lumine almost forgets to resist. Her thoughts only grow more muddled as the succubus tilts her head further to explore deeper into her mouth.
The demon withdraws, and a string of saliva stretches between their lips.
“Well?” Arlecchino asks. “Have you been swayed?”
“No, I…” Lumine can hardly think straight. Her legs are weak and unsteady. “I am… a woman of God. I’m… I’m faithful.”
“Aww,” Signora says. “Such a pity.”
“I suppose that is that, then,” Arlecchino says.
The demons both look far too pleased at what should be their loss.
Lumine’s pulse pounds in her head. Her body feels much too warm under all her layers. Wetness pools between her legs.
Oh God.
Lumine sinks to her knees, but she does not clasp her hands in prayer. She pushes her habit between her thighs as if she can smother the growing heat, though it does nothing to quell the rising tide of her arousal.
“Still staying firm?” Signora asks.
Fabric drags against Lumine’s sensitive places, and she shivers with need. “What did you do to me?”
Arlecchino crouches beside her. “Nothing more than we said we would.” She catches Lumine by the chin, turns her face this way and that. “Two kisses, and look at you—flushed and wanting.”
“Didn’t you know?” Signora crowds her other side. “A succubus’s kiss has a powerful aphrodisiac effect on humans.”
“That’s cheating!”
“Is it?” Arlecchino hums. “We simply amplified your natural desires. You remain free to cast those desires aside.”
Lumine shivers. “I… won’t let you corrupt me.”
“Oh, dear pet.” Signora toys with Lumine’s rosary, the beads clicking under her fingers. “It’s not corruption. It’s liberation.” She yanks the crucifix from Lumine’s neck, sends beads skittering.
Lumine feels naked, feels her defenses crumbling.
“Make your choice,” Arlecchino demands.
Please, O Lord, save me, Lumine thinks. “Please, god, touch me,” she begs.
“Touch you?” Signora rucks Lumine’s skirt up her thighs, teases her bare skin with the crucifix. “You want more than that, don’t you?”
Her mind is far too fuzzy now. “Please. Please.”
Arlecchino chuckles. “Since you asked nicely—” She settles behind Lumine and tugs her against her chest. “—I suppose we can oblige.”
Signora spreads Lumine’s legs. “Leave everything to us.”
Lumine barely registers the sound of tearing of cloth as Signora rips her panties to shreds. She is too caught up in Arlecchino’s hands dipping beneath the neckline of her habit to cup her breasts.
Signora’s lips trail up the inside of her thigh, and Lumine squirms in desperation. It should be humiliating having her most intimate parts exposed, but she feels only want and desire.
Arlecchino fondles her, teases her sensitive nipples. The earlier phantom sensations pale in comparison to the real thing. Each twist and tug has Lumine arching her back as red-hot embers of pleasure stoke the fire in her core, and she wonders if she could come from her chest alone.
She’s already impossibly close when Signora’s tongue finds her. The demon laps at Lumine’s dripping folds, circles around her clit, makes her shudder in ecstasy.
“Such a good girl,” Arlecchino coos in her ear. “Are you ready to fall apart for us?”
“Already?” Signora giggles against Lumine’s inner thigh. “I have just the thing for you.”
The demon presses Lumine’s own crucifix against her entrance, and her traitorous body invites the object inside, any remaining modicum of innocence now forfeit. The crosspiece catches on her opening, bumps against her sensitive clit and swollen lips. With a moan, Lumine clenches around the intrusion, and her core pulses with need. Under the watchful eyes of stained-glass saints, the sacred symbol of Lumine’s faith is utterly defiled by her sinful desires.
“That’s it, darling.” Signora fucks the cross in and out until Lumine weeps with pleasure.
“Come for us,” Arlecchino urges. “Forsake your path for the sins of the flesh, sweet thing. Fall for us.”
Lumine’s frenzied cries echo through the chapel as she comes on the cross.
Tempted by demons, ruined by her own carnal appetites. Ah, all of Lumine’s vows have come to naught.
“Can you come again, darling?” Signora asks.
Arlecchino wraps a hand around Lumine’s throat. “She had better.” She laughs darkly. “The fun is only just beginning.”