gore galore ★

A new inmate was always something to look forward to. Watching them the initial processing was always fun: these poor fucks were dragged in, stumbling, eyes wide. This place was her church for certain. All the fun games to play in the name of rehabilitation, in the name of God. Before God, you are stripped down. Whatever you were before, you were about be made anew, whether you liked it or not.

This new prospect was interesting. A young man reeking of fear. Stripped down and thrown about, fitted with restraints, tied down to the bed. She considered him for a long moment, eyes shining in the dark as he squirmed beneath her gaze. A man of God. She could tell. Flipping through his patient file, she couldn't help a smile. Committed for paranoid and antisocial behaviors- he'd locked himself in his home for a few weeks before anyone found him. He'd been eating dog food. He'd volunteered in a local church in a town nearby, but even still nobody had noticed until his condition was... severe.

He knew what she was, too. He was praying, fervently, hands clutching the bed as he squirmed desperately. Rebuking her as Satan in squeals and yelps. The room was hers. The whole goddamn place was hers and hers alone. After getting Queen Bitch Judy out of the way, there was very little to stop her now. Her human soul was as captive as this morsel. Her nose scrunched up.

"Even after they hosed you, you reek." She sneered. "Fear is unbecoming of you. This is your new home, after all." She approached the table. He went quiet a moment before it all came bursting out.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! WITCH!" So on and so on... Amusing as it had been at first, Sister Mary Eunice simply couldn't stand how grating his howling was getting. The crack of her palm against his face shut him up. He yelped, head forced to the side by the impact, and a whimper escaped.

"Enough of that, now." Her voice was kept soft throughout it all. Teasing. "I prefer the prayer. You can continue it. Would you like me to join you in it? Come, then. Let us find salvation together... if it heeds you."

A patient moment. He obeyed, to his credit. Fervent whispered prayer all over again. Mumbling and muttering. In the name of Jesus, that. Amen, amen, amen. The cross of Christ be with me, let no evil befall me.

She considered him for a long moment. This source of hope... that it could do anything against her. Against her power now, against how strong she had become. It was insulting. It was blasphemous. "Tell me, then. Is it working? Do you feel safe?"

His eyes were beautiful. Rich. The color itself didn't matter, no. Just that pleading look, that pitiful lamb that knew it was for the slaughter. He sensed what she was, on some level. Denied blissful ignorance, denied sweet peace of those she fooled with her human mask and human meat. This was unfortunate for him. He had no fear for his flesh– he knew his body would be punished, yes. But moreso, he knew his soul could be safe. He still believed his spirit would enter Heaven, no matter the torments that could come. He was a virgin. He was close to the church. He had harmed nobody but himself. "...Yes," he whispered despite himself, voice gravelly from the screaming.

The next moment, she'd approached the side of the bed. Hoisted a leg over, shifted, straddled him. Nobody would interrupt. "If your Lord is here, let him watch, then." She murmured, voice sickeningly comforting.

He writhed, but the restraints held fast. He screamed again, screamed for help, a much more sinister pit dropping in his stomach. Anything but this. This couldn't be happening. Why was this happening? She was a nun, she was with the church, this was the last thing he could ever expect from —

Her hand grabbed his jaw. Her spit sank into his mouth, slid along his tongue. He choked, gasped, tried to spit it back at her, but her hand just pushed his head sideways and into the shitty mattress. It squeaked under them. She laughed as he coughed wetly, trying to get as much of her spit out of his mouth as he could. It wasn't very effective. He could still taste her. He was quiet, though, save the coughing. Tears pricked up in his eyes.

A faux pity in her voice. "Oh, what is it? You should be glad, you know. It isn't often I get to pop the cherry of a guest. The others come in here so depraved already." She let go of his face and shifted back. Pulled his shirt up to his neck and dragged her hands along his front, nails digging into him. He hissed in pain, back arching, hips pushing up against her unwillingly. "There you go," she hummed.

"No! No, no, no. No, that isn't- please. What are you doing? Please don't– please don't, please." His babble was sweet on her ears.

"So polite all of a sudden." She pushed herself down, grinding against him. He was already half hard. Cute. "I can appreciate that in a man... Why'd you stop praying?"

She moved more confidently now, humping and grinding against him. He was sweating, crying full on now, snot dribbling from him, drool slipping out. Ugly. Beautiful. All he could do was beg mindlessly for her to stop. All he could do was plead for mercy.

"Oh, come on. We haven't even gotten to the fun part, handsome. Don't you want to know what it's like?" She leaned in close. Her hands pulled his face to meet her eyes. She looked, really peered inside.

Her laugh was far too pleasant. "Oh, I see. Too busy playing for the same team. So much shame. So much time hiding and wanting... No, no, no need to deny it." A thoughtful pause. "You know, it's only fair that your first time should satisfy you."

His pants were pulled down. She pried his jaw open with strange strength, slicked her fingers with his pooled saliva. That was all the warning he got, all the preparation she would bother with before his ass was spread. Two fingers with sharp fucking nails pressed against him. She just stared at his face. Watched. And then, in a horrifically fast push, her fingers hooked their way inside of him.

His cock jumped. His whole body was on fire. He saw white, his body writhed and lashed out, bucking as scream after scream was dragged out of him. It never got easier. It never got better. It hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt. His teeth ground until they hurt, too, but it was nothing, nothing beside it. He must have bit his tongue. Tears flowed and flowed. He bled.

And then she started to move her fingers. In and out. Burning hot, white pain, coursing in and out of him. He might as well have been electrocuted from it, the way he flopped and flailed like a fish. His eyes rolled back into his head. He was going to pass out. And that was the only reason she slowed. Stopped.

"What, not a fan? Maybe you don't know what you like, then. It's alright, a lot of young people grow out of it." She sneered at him. "I'm not a fan of how dirty it gets my hands anyway... You're lucky I didn't have the cucumber that little slut keeps in her cell." She stood up. Mercy, but only for a moment.

"It's alright, sweetheart. I'll take care of you. Just a moment, dear." There was a sink on the other side of the room. It all still hurt, but he felt like he could breathe again. He didn't want to know the mess he'd made anywhere, whatever fluids had escaped from him were well beyond whatever he could bear to process. He couldn't think at all. His voice felt too raw to speak. He barely strained against the mattress anymore.

When she returned, it was with a smile. Her hand was slick with something he couldn't see. Her own wetness, if his dazed brain could guess. Her hand was soft as it wrapped around his cock, slowly feeling his width, palm flush against the veins of it. She kept to the base and was extremely efficient about it- pace quickening, an almost clinical air returning to her.

"Let's see if you've been cured of that first little delusion, then. I much prefer this method to others. It's much quicker than those modern therapies. Don't you agree? Let's find out what your body has to say about it..."

He was hard enough, somehow, and she climbed back onto him. She wore nothing beneath her habit. Blasphemy, blasphemy. How could any of this be possible? He was overwhelmed without measure. He could manage nothing. He felt, for the first time, utterly powerless. Completely helpless. It still hurt. He could feel the warm wetness of blood seeping from his hole.

Then her warm wetness found his dick. Pushed down onto him. A tightness and then a clench all around him. He couldn't help it- he moaned, eliciting a laugh from her. Deeper, deeper, still.

"Well, that's our answer, then, isn't it?" She seemed pleased. A flicker of hope once again– if he could continue to please her, perhaps nothing worse should come to pass. He could encourage her fixation on fixing him. His hips pushed up against her, wobbling, before the strength left him once again. He sagged and sank against the mattress, sweating, panting. It hurt too much. Whatever she was going to do, she would just do it to him. Regardless of however he felt about it.

"Very good. Such a fast learner. You're going to do just fine, here. None of those silly ideas about God protecting you anymore. I'm curing you. You understand that, hm?"

"Yes," he stuttered out. "Yes. I'm sorry."

She rocked herself against him, pushed herself full of him. She began to ride him in earnest, and sparks of pleasure buzzed into his stupid brain. His body betraying him, his cock twitching and pulsing. "So eager. I forgive you. Sweet thing. Does it feel good? Do you like this better?"

He couldn't answer, couldn't think. She slapped him, much harder than before, and he gasped. The world spun. He'd never felt so far away from his body. He'd never felt so sick. He'd never felt like this at all. Shame and embarrassment, hatred and disgust. Directed at her and at himself. Pleasure churned in his core, eroded at him, corrupted him. He was going to cum soon. She wanted an answer. To what, though? What did she want from him?

"Yes? Yes?" He tried hopelessly. "Please. Please, please don't hurt me, I'm- sss I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." The tears never seemed to end. He began to hiccup and choke on it. She reached over and used the sleeve of her habit to wipe his tears.

"Good boy. Lay there and take it. You're doing so well."

Hollow words. Hollow feeling in his stomach. Everything faded. He didn't know where he was, who he was. None of it mattered. All that mattered was avoiding her punishment, was earning her mercy. Desperate. Heat against him. Pressure on him. Tightness around him. Nothing could save him. Nothing could hear him. Nobody was coming.

He came, sobbing. No longer a virgin. No longer safe. When he died in this fucking place, would he enter the gates of Heaven? Would God see that it wasn't his fault? The seed of doubt was there. It would do nothing but grow. He hadn't used a condom. She was still sat on top of him. What else could happen? What would he do– what COULD he do?