This is a work of fiction. BDSM should only be practiced with enthusiastic consent and safewords.
2.
The priestess took one more swig of water then dumped the rest over her head. It was the middle of the night, yet the room was as hot as summer. Her shirt was heavy with sweat, and it pulled down on her tits, making it hard to breath. She yanked it over her head, letting her breasts swing free, and took a deep, much needed breath. Her skin was itchy, and her nipples sore from where they had rubbed the fabric. She brushed them with her fingertips and winced. Hard as diamonds, and my oh my they were sensitive. Her eyes crept to the table and the bowl with the silver gel, and she quickly spread some over her chest. The relief was immediate as the cooling gel soothed her boobs, and she sighed, happy that they were no longer crammed in that awful fabric.
They had been there for a long time. So long, in fact, that the candles needed changing. As the priestess lit new ones she glanced down at Rebecca, who seemed to be in a trance. It seemed mere moments ago that she had been awake and alert, crying softly at each stroke of the paddle, each strike of the crop. The edges of her mouth were lifted -- she had been as liable to laugh as she was to scream, finding joy in the pain. Whether it was Rebecca or the demon inside her that took to the punishment so eagerly was impossible to say. But that's what they were there for, and the priestess had shown her no mercy.
They had begun with her breasts. Banded tight as they were they had grown plump and red with blood, her nipples so hard it seemed they might burst. They must have ached terribly, and the priestess set to remedy that. Grabbing a thin wooden cane from the table she rubbed it across the bound woman's thighs. "Do you know what this is?" Rebecca shook her head, and the priestess responded by striking her above the knees. Rebecca screamed and pulled at her bonds. "Don't worry," the priestess said, pinching Rebecca's left nipple, "it isn't for your legs." Rebecca seemed to understand, and she cried as the priestess lifted her nipple and began caning the underside of her boob. A sort of rhythm was established: ten easy strokes followed by five harder ones, then a
really
hard one at the end. Move a few inches, and repeat. It took some time. She circled each breast carefully, lifting and pulling each nipple in all directions to make sure every square inch of Rebecca's tits received the same level of treatment. By the end Rebecca was sobbing. Deep red lines covered her chest, but there was no broken skin.
Ready to move on, but wanting to keep her captive's mind on her tits, the priestess pulled off the rubber bands. Rebecca took deep steadying breaths, but these turned to moans as the clamps bit down on her swollen nipples. The priestess ignored her screams as she tightened the clamps as tight as they could go. They were heavy and large, gripping the skin with a small row of barbs, but you could never be too careful with a demon such as this at your fingertips. A thin chain ran between each nipple, and was pulled so tight a mouse could walk across it. The thought pleased the priestess, and she stored it in the back of her mind for later, should it be needed.
She walked to the foot of the bed and snapped each of the bands on Rebecca's feet. But the priestess wasn't there for feet: a changing of the guard was in order for the woman's rear. Her legs were lifted, and the priestess slowly removed the rod from Rebecca's ass. It came out steadily, and Rebecca sighed as it did. Then the priestess picked up another toy from the table. Blinded as she was Rebecca could not see what it was, but she could feel its smooth glass surface rub against her pussy and alongside her clit. Her vagina flexed, trying to pull the object in, but her front hole was not its destination. The priestess rubbed some gel on the first anal bead, which was as small as a pea, and slipped it into Rebecca's ass. Loosened as it was from the rod it went in without issue, though Rebecca tensed as she realized what was coming. The next two beads swiftly followed suit. Then the priestess took a candle and held it below the forth bead, this one as wide as a quarter, before pushing it in. Her captive squealed, and the next two entered in a similar fashion. The last one was the size of a plum, and this was pushed in without ceremony. It hardly needed the help. Rebecca's asshole was slick with soothing gel, and cum from her leaky pussy, and the final bead popped in without complaint, though the moans that came through the gag suggested the ass's owner might not have found the process quite so easy.
As the priestess lowered Rebecca's legs, she couldn't help but notice how remarkably unblemished her stomach was. After tying her ankles to the bed posts, sprawling the young woman out like a starfish, she went to the table to find something with which to rectify the situation. As she looked over her instruments the candle in her hand slipped, and a glob of melted wax landed on her hand. The priestess hissed in pain. The wax burned, and the feeling was not swift to depart. Then she realized: she had exactly what she needed for Rebecca's stomach.
The first few drops were met with a steady groan, which only grew louder as more and more wax was dripped onto her body, and turned to screams when a few drops somehow landed on her newly exposed cunt. But there was something different to the woman's cries. They were harsher, more guttural, and deeper in tone. They were unlike anything the Priestess had ever heard, even during other exorcisms. There was no trace of humanity in them.
They were close now, very close. More than once the priestess had brushed a hand over Rebecca's vulva -- once to reapply the gel, a few more times to give it a hearty smack -- and been amazed by what she had felt. The
heat
it gave off was incredible. Her lips and folds were swollen and soft. The stench of it was strong, but it wasn't only Rebecca's groin that filled the air with its scent. The priestess had been absentmindedly playing with her pussy, and when she sniffed her fingers, she realized that her smell was as strong as Rebecca's. It was no great surprise: her pussy had soaked through her undergarments and left a trail of juice running down her leg. Something deep inside her was greatly pleased by the situation, and her body was happy to express it. She slipped out of her panties and tossed the sopping rag in the corner. Being naked brought a new sense of intimacy to the exchange, and this only aroused her further.
It was time. She had Rebecca in a subspace, floating free and empty, connected to the world only through her vagina. This tortured soul was as close to Goddess as she was liable to get. "Listen to me," the priestess said, leaning in close. "The demon is at the very edge of your being. I can see it moving beneath your skin. It
wants
to come out, and we're going to help it. Be strong, Rebecca. The end is nigh." Rebecca moaned in response. Or rather, something moaned through her. Something big. Something scary. The priestess sat at the foot of the bed and leaned in towards Rebecca's vagina, marveling at its significance. Buried in those lips was Her gateway into life, the epicenter of Her Grace. That opening was blocked by a demon. And she was going to get it out. But first...
