Dulce Periculum

We all have our demons

A 4k short story following a priest and the two fallen angels haunting him.

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Content Warnings

Manipulation, dubious consent, abuse, heavy sexual themes, religious eroticism, minor mind/body control, hallucinations, blasphemy, blood, and corruption.

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Father Milo just may be the most kind hearted person you’ll ever meet, ask anyone. But…he’s certainly not the best priest by the church's standards. His biggest flaw? He’s kept secret that he’s accidentally summoned two fallen angels. Both of the beings will now stop at nothing to have his soul and body as theirs to command.

A LOOK INSIDE THE BOOK

This was a hell of his own design. 

Words and voices had become so hard to focus on each passing day since their arrival. So difficult to hear over the near constant chatter in his head; the devilish whispers that followed the priest everywhere, no matter how far. Including when the witch slept; corrupting his dreams with unspeakable images. 

Even now as he sat trapped in the wooden booth like a rabbit in a cage, Milo not only heard the voices filling his ears, but felt a presence that caused his heart to thunder so deafeningly he prayed no one else could hear it too. For surely they’d come to witness his crime against god.

“Father Milo?”

“I…I’m sorry?” 

The priest hadn’t answered the bishop, hadn't even heard them speak except for a low sigh on the opposite side of the carved wood screen. 

“What have you come to confess?” They asked again, though they weren’t quite as patient as the first time. 

“I’ve…” 

Come now, Father. Tell the Bishop of us.

His breath shuddered as the voice spoke in a dulcet manner, soft and warm; though he knew better. Milo didn’t speak to them or even at all. Just remained frozen. 

Tell them of your first precious prayers to us. Begging. Helpless. Lost. 

If they could see you now…

Green eyes closed to the thought. He didn't want to imagine what he looked like, not now. With large hands grabbing his body, claws tearing into the layers of black and white robes so much it was a miracle alone that the fabric still held on. 

That he could deal with. It was the new experience of eager, exploring touches that rendered the man and his mind utterly useless. 

Devils, he’d thought, would be…these grand errors in the design of God. Cold, cruel, murderous. That must be true, no doubt, of the otherworldly beings who, more or less, crammed themselves into this space with him; at least in the form of hands and mouths with which to set his soul ablaze. 

But this…carnal interest had been far from expect-

“Father Milo?” 

“I’ve had many…many immoral thoughts.” 

“I…see.” The bishop's words were paused. Likely due to them choosing their words carefully. “How often are you having these thoughts?”

Somewhere around the beginning; when his dreams had been filled to the brim with unwanted scenes and images. 

Lie to yourself all you wish, priest. But we see your mind.

Wide eyes are made to witness as disembodied hands push the remainder of his torn clothing aside. The new sight of him earned a wave of their praise. 

“Every day,” the man's voice quivered, hoping it was shame that came across more to the holy figure and not the surprise; his legs being spread and his hard cock on display. 

It was easy to lose himself in it, so he did his best to take soft deep breaths; with the reminder to keep the bishop oblivious to what unfolded beside them.