At first a mere curiosity you now find yourself drawn to the book. Even needful of it. It's once ornate binding is tattered from ages of neglect. It's pages delicate and worn. The language it was written in is long dead.

In just days it has gone from a flea market impulse buy, to a coffee table conversation piece, to a constant companion as you curl up in bed after work.

Initially you found the illustrations interesting, maybe even beautiful in a classical sense, regardless of the often cruel scenes they depicted. It's illustrations were sordid, depicting woman in service to god being corrupted by hell's servants. Many seemed lifted from the Old Testament, but as the pages turned they become more explicit. Women on their knees, praying to the turgid phallus's of their captors. Women on all fours, seemingly in the throes of ecstasy even as their demonic tormentors stripped their innocence. The ways and means of their blissful torments seemed endless in the many pages of the old book.

But as the book's more subtle deceptions wormed their way into you, things changed.

It was day five, you now remember this much clearly, when you looked up and saw the clock at 4:00AM. You know you picked the book up at 7:00PM. You didn't even remember pausing the TV, but there it was, still paused. But that wasn't what shocked you most.

As you came back to your senses at that early hour you felt your thighs quivering, looked down to see your legs wide, and the crotch of your panties soaked through.

The time spent was lost to you, but this - this was something different, something wrong.

You snapped the book shut, inexplicably afraid of it. You tossed it across the room, and tried to sleep, or at least make sense of where the night went, perhaps where you yourself went for that matter.

Sleep was long in coming, and fitful once achieved. It didn't surprise you when your alarm went off scant hours later and you grabbed your phone and texted in a lame excuse of "having a bug" to get out of work.

You woke again around noon, now somewhat refreshed and you showered. Long, hot, washing away the previous night. Everything seemed a bit silly now as clarity returned to you. The book? It was a book (right?), and as you stepped into your room, wrapped in a towel you picked it up, and returned it to the bedside table.

Turning to your mirror you dropped the towel. When was the last time you admired yourself? You couldn't remember. The culture of vanity and endless selfies was never in your nature. But still, without reason, you now found yourself pausing before you got dressed.

"Look at yourself", your inner voice thought, and so you did.

Staring at your own reflection as if a stranger, and seeing beauty, desire - seeing yourself in a light you secretly hoped others would see you in. More than seeing, feeling. Warmth subtly flowed into you, and you even allowed yourself a coy smile as your hands began to journey over the naked form before you. "I should be wanted", you thought, then a little voice you barely recognized said to yourself, "Then want."

Your fingers worked across your shoulders, through your hair, tracing your smile. Your own touch ran gently down your chest, finding your nipples stiffen, and continued on. Your refection flawless, regardless of whether you've been guilty of being your own worst critic. Negative thoughts seemed to evaporate like the fog on the mirror in which you admired yourself. You smiled again at this strange, desirable woman looking back at you. Your touch grazed ever lower, and soon your own fingers fluttered just over your mound, poised to feel this beauty, to satisfy her, to have her.

And then, you felt it. A simple tug, a simple thought - "Read the book."

You allowed yourself the lightest, teasing graze below. You parted the folds of your sex, finding yourself needful. Your finger slipped inside your wet tightness. Without a thought you lifted your palm to your chin and slid that finger past your lips. You lightly shuddered at your own taste as a desperate lover might.

And then you turned again towards the book. You weren't yourself right now, and good for it you mused. You were lust, you were beauty, you were the embodiment of want.

Some part of you now understood how the book was illustrated. How the women in the book came to be inked in its scenes of blasphemous sin. You didn't care if you were playing a dangerous game reading it. Every step towards that book felt like a new lover entering you for the first time, and you wanted to know more. To feel more. To be more.

And so you opened it again, and would soon see your fall to depravity begin.

Chapter 2:

You stood before the book - naked, exposed, wanton and lustful. Gently quivers played over your body as you touched the book's cover. You let out a sigh as your fingers run over it. Your body alive with sensation, your nipples erect, thighs warm, toes curled and your sex near dripping as you finally open the cover and see the first page.

You run your hand over the runic inscriptions on page one, feeling them hot to your touch. The book seems to subtly vibrate in tune with your body as you flip the pages.

You open to a page with an image of a nun, her black habit shredded, her pale skin striped red from a whip. Her eyes are stark white, unseeing. She is on all fours propped up by her elbows, her hands clasped in prayer, her lips parted as if mid moan.

Your own free hand isn't so penitent. It finds your wet pussy and without a willful thought you slide two fingers inside yourself, the heel of your palm tight and grinding on your swollen clit.

"Please fuck her", you whisper softly, nearly unaware of your own voice.

The book suddenly flies to the floor, picked up and tossed by unseen forces.

You follow it, you fingers still sliding in and out as you kneel on the floor to keep reading. You don't even realize you've just put yourself in the same position as the possessed soul in the image you stare it.

You eyes lock on the page. You feel your hand being pulled from your sex, your fingers slick with your own lust and your hands clasp together as your mind is focused solely on the page beneath you.

The page flips.

The image changes. A demon, muscled, cruel, eyes black, kneels before the supplicant nun. His cock is jutting out, rigid, thick, and dripping corruption.

Your knees spread as if grabbed by strong, rough hands. Your face is forced closer to the page.

The page flips.

Even as the page settles, before you eyes can process the next illustration, you feel it. Your pussy impaled. There is no romance, no gentleness, only lust. You pitch forward for an instant but are locked in place. As your eyes focus you see the nun, her head up, her mouth open in lustful anguish.

You feel it. You feel the image, your own pussy being filled by that that demonic shaft. You feel it's hips crash into yours. Feel it spreading you, filling you, as no human cock can.

You feel a pleasure no earthly woman has felt. Your body is shaking as the unseen force takes you mercilessly. What should be pain is only ecstasy, lust distilled. You cry out, uncaring if a neighbor might here you. You beg it to fuck you. Plead and whimper out loud to be fucked harder. Your body a vessel of it's sin, and your feel it course in hot waves through you. It takes you, over and over.

The pages now flip quickly, animating the taking of the nun as you feel her hellish bliss.

The thick long cock pounds you, each thrust a new high as you feel sensations no earthly woman was meant to experience.

Your own body trembles, and your orgasms come quickly as the pages flip through a loop of the scene you feel.

Your body shakes, there is no counting the times you came. It is one merged to the next, and time has become irrelevant as your shake and cry out.

Suddenly the book snaps shut.

You collapse to the side. Covered in sweat, shaking from head to toe, gasping for air.

Your senses return. Your muscles ache. Your pussy feels battered, sensitive to even the slightest draft in your room. Your belly flutters as the vestiges of your orgasms fade.

You pant, finding your air. You look around and see the carpet soaked in your own wetness.

Minutes later you stand on shaking legs and make your way to the bed, collapsing on it. Your eyes gaze at the book on the floor.

You know it will be shut until it allows itself to be opened. And you will be here when it does. You will be ready for the next step, and ready to journey fully into it, or call it to you, whichever it chooses.

Your still shaking hand reaches for your cell phone, as you text work again, making sure they know you might be out for some time.

You lay, warmth flooding you. Pain turns to glow. You spread your legs wide and hope whatever it is can see you exposed.

And you wait, hungry for it.

Chapter 3:

"When will I feel it again" was all you thought about now.

It had been days, days that eventually felt like weeks. At first you felt changed, emboldened, a new woman. You went about your daily routine, even returned to work. You felt the stares. You enjoyed their gazes and the way they couldn't seem to help but admire you.

Outwardly you hadn't changed. You were a capable woman that never felt the need to wear revealing outfits to get attention, nor did you now. But as you walked through the office heads turned. You knew why. You knew you had changed, and you loved the warmth that often flooded you after the book had awakened this "new you".

But days soon passed, and the book remained just that, no longer a portal, but a simple book. And with every passing minute it seemed a hunger grew. A need, more than a want, a constant distraction and thirst for it to come to you again. For it to take you, and make you whole.

Soon the wait become too much. You felt unworthy, unwanted, as if a lover had spurned you. Work became too much to focus on. On Friday you told the staff that worked under you that you were taking a vacation and left early.

Walking in the door you resolved yourself to reawaken the book. To force it to notice you and reveal it's secrets again. The door had barely shut behind you as you started near frantically stripping off your prim business attire. Your clothes littered the hallway to your bedroom, and you walked in naked, wanting, and exposed to whatever might be summoned.

Any sense of self dignity was deemed useless if you were forced to wait even another day. You got on all fours on the floor. You arched you back, thrusting your ass in the air like a bitch in heat.

"Please" you whimpered, "Please take me". And then you sobbed as you pleaded more urgently with no reply.

You looked up, and saw yourself in the full length dressing mirror across from you. Tears streamed down as your makeup stained your face. Your full breasts heaved as you begged, your ass swayed, begging for an unseen and now unfelt lover. You scarcely recognized the wanton whore that stared back at you.

Suddenly the room felt warm. Near instantly the room felt like a sauna, the mirror steaming over as sweat glistened off your nude form. The book jolted on the floor in front of you.

You raised your ass like an offering, parting your thighs. You trembled waiting for any touch the book might allow, waiting for it to open the door and allow your demonic lover to return.

You looked up, shaking, not even realizing your hand was now between your spread thighs, playing over your wet sex. You saw the mirror, fogged over, and then it happened. As if a finger was drawing on the condensation, words were written.

They were scrawled quickly, your eyes locked on it as the message was relayed.

It simply said "unworthy"

And as the "y" was drawn, just as suddenly as the heat materialized, the room was normal again.

You screamed at the message as the now cold air made your sweat covered body shiver. As the steam cleared the mirror, only the message remained stained upon it. You stood now, seeing yourself in it's reflection. Desperate, naked, hungry, worthless in your own reflection. Nothing but an addict in need of a fix. Fallen.

"unworthy"

You threw on a sundress, and nothing else. You didn't even bother to fix yourself as you walked out the door, not even locking it.

If this thing wanted a price, you would pay it. You walked a block, stopping in front of the big stone church, a monument to a god that never made you feel alive or wanted. You walked in, the church empty save for a few elderly woman quietly praying.

You walked right to the front, to the statue of Jesus on the cross. You walked behind the altar, right up to the cross. "Fuck you" you mouthed to the stone visage of HIM. Turning back, you spied a box of rosary beads, free to anyone in need of one. You grabbed the box and simply marched out, not turning back as someone shouted "Stop!" but made no attempt to halt you.

You walked with frantic, angry purpose back to your place, and slammed the door behind you, bolted the lock, and spilled the rosary necklaces on the floor in front of you.

Losing your sundress, naked again, you put one over your neck, then another. In a rage now at that perceived spurning of you, you began to hang them throughout the house. You put them in every room, knocked down pictures and artwork to hang them on wall hooks.

You wrapped them around your wrists, and stalked to the book, throwing one on it's cover. You hung them on the posts of your bed. You got on the bed, and draped them on you, your naked body heaving as your hurried desecration left you panting on the bed, rosary and the crosses dangling from them littering your room.

"Fuck me" you seethed, desperation now anger.

And as the words left your mouth, the books cover opened so violently the cross laying on it flew across the room and embedded itself in the wall next to you, the long string of beads hanging from it.

"FUCK ME", you panted, as you heard the pages rustle behind your head. The beads you hung on the posts of your iron bed frame stretched out to you, and the beads on your wrists met them. Your arms went taut, spread to the posts by unholy ropes.

"FUCK ME!" you begged. And with that invocation the beads on the foot posts lashed out around your ankles, yanking your legs wide.

Your body now quivering, spread, helpless, exposed and willing, you whispered.. "please fuck me master".

As the words left your lips, the mirror next your bed shattered, your ankles were hoisted high on the posts, the beads pressing into your flesh, the many small crosses dangling from the rosaries floated up, now upside down as the mirror shards fall to the floor.

A smokey form walked through the mirror frame, it's shape obscured by the swirling darkness around it. You body responded, wetness and warmth flooding your aching sex. You moaned loudly, as it's mere arrival triggered your first orgasm, your body humming, vibrating with unearthly needs soon to be met.

You looked down at your naked form, and found it undulating with hundreds of unseen fingers exploring you. Pulling and teasing your taut nipples, running up your thighs, playing over your mound.

You turned your head to the dark swirling smoke surrounding the demon that stood before your spread thighs. Waves of pleasure wracked your body as it's minions prepared you, touching all of you at once as no human lover could ever do. No part of you went unpleasured, from the simplest graze on your tender neck, to the insistent fingers that entered you. Unseen but felt, lips gently kissed those parts only you knew as triggers, while others knew exactly what wanted it harder.

Your supplicant missionary form was soon engulfed in the swirling darkness that hid your true master. Even as the countless fingers, lips and tongues ran over you, you felt it's girth at your entrance.

You moaned louder in the throes of near continuous orgasm. You tried to find words to urge it on, but only the near guttural sounds of your own bliss could be heard.

And then, finally, it took you. Plunging into you, filling you, it's size at once shocking and perfect. You strained at your bounds, wanting more, but your ankles and wrists held fast.

As the hellish being thrust into you once more, you shuddered and let out an animal like growl. The wrought iron bed posts swayed as your tormentor found its tempo, and your suspended body swung, swinging back and forth on the demon's thick cock.

Even as the thing took you, it's servants continued. All of this at once, a symphony of unseen lovers that all knew your secrets as their master mercilessly fucked you.

In between each orgasmic breath the perfect kiss, the perfect touch, fingers probing where you'd never let a man touch you, yet now you silently begged for every hole to be used as the demon's perfect cock elicited sensations no mere man could give you.

You didn't even notice the thin stark red lines of blood trickling down your wrists and ankles as your body hovered, pulled taut and spread by the rosaries that bound you.

You felt everything a woman could feel over a thousand lovers in this one moment. And then, you felt the cock swell inside you as the demon paused, deep within you.

You felt the spasms of his thick cock as he pressed deep within you and your aching sex swelled with the torrents of hot seed it convulsed deep into your soaked and throbbing pussy.

You felt his gift flood you as your own frenzied sensations peaked.

And then, as if a switch was thrown, you came crashing down onto the bed, the rosary necklaces binding you released, and you hit the mattress like a ragdoll.

Then Silence. Then Nothing.

You caught your breath. Your body throbbed, ached. Your wrists and ankles were bruised and cut where the rosaries held you. You flipped onto your stomach, trying to raise yourself.

A flood of wetness spilled down your thighs. Yours? Its? You didn't know. Your body simply trembled as you came back to yourself.

You saw the mirror, broken. The only evidence that what happened wasn't just in your head. The book was open in front of you.

It was opened to a page you'd never seen.

It was an unfinished illustration. Pictured was a woman, no doubt once proud, but now obviously broken. She was naked, her face a mask of pleasure as a group of demons groped her and pulled her over the threshold into hell. Waiting on the other side was Satan himself, his huge cock hanging flaccid as he beckoned her to join him.

The image was only partially colored, and as you ran your still shaking fingers over it you found the paint still tacky.

It was then you decided no matter the price you would call to the book again, and let them take you there. The book was the portal, and you the passenger. Your body already ached to make the trip.

The need would come quicker next time, and the price much higher.

You knew once the page was complete, that was the end of your story. All stories need to end, and next time you would pay any price to finish yours.

Chapter 4:

There was nothing but hunger now. Hunger to be inked into the book, to feel the unearthly bliss of your demon lover forever.

The rosary beads still hung from your bedposts. Each night you prayed to the wrong god for them to bind you again. For the demon and its servants to come fuck you, rape you, steal you from this earth and make you theirs.

In the days that followed the last visit your corruption had become complete. You barely ate, sleep provided no comfort. Calls from work were a nuisance, a distraction you gave short thrift to. No doubt they were going to fire you, but nothing mattered but lust now.

In an effort to tempt the book into opening the door to your lover you took to wearing nothing but your sluttiest lingerie. You never left the house, and lived in a state of unfulfilled lustful need. You spent hours engrossed in the images within the books pages, squatting over it legs spread wide like a whore, fingering yourself until your pussy was raw as you rubbed your wetness over the runes inscribed on the pages.

You knew what should be done.

You understood it as if the demon itself had planted the thought within you. But you resisted that final act, hoping to summon it again without paying the price it dictated.

Soon no amount of your own self induced pleasure would satisfy you, or bring you remotely close to the sensations the demon awakened. You saw yourself in the bathroom mirror, sunken eyes, desperate. You saw your hand again between your legs, as it had been for days it seemed, always trying for pleasure you couldn't replicate. The only thing still covering you was a pair of tattered fishnets.

It was then you agreed with yourself to commit the act the demon had whispered to you as it left the last time.

Not bothering to dress, you simply threw on a long coat and heels, then grabbed the book.

It was the church of course. You had known for days it had to be the church. You left the door open as you left. You wouldn't be coming back.

Your heels clicked on the pavement as you hurried to the church. Those who didn't move out of your path fast enough were nearly shoved aside, as you own lustful want and need overcame you.

This would be it. You would cross over and give yourself completely to the corruption you were now utterly addicted to. You rushed down the sidewalk, clutching the book, wearing nothing but your days-old torn black fishnets, heels and the long coat you threw over your shoulders.

The church loomed before you, the gothic arches and vaults no longer beautiful, but a simple means to your end. As you pushed the doors open the church was still empty, only a few prayer candles would be witness to you opening the book again. You turned and slammed shut the iron latch on the tall oak doors, and made your way up the center aisle, heels echoing on the floor.

When you approached the alter a voice called out, a nun, leading four others to prayer from the attached convent, called out to you "Miss, are you OK?" she asked.

"I will be" you replied, dropping your coat and revealing your naked body to the altar as you dropped the book on it. As the book hit the center of altar, it opened and the church was thrust into a kind of darkness. The sunlight filtering through the stained glass went suddenly grey as an unholy cold filled the large hall.

The group of nuns paused, scared, two of them clutching their rosaries and mumbling prayers. You turned on them, your eyes full of nothing but corrupt lustful need. "Pray to your useless god if you want" you seethed. You stood before them exposed, already feeling the hot wetness between your thighs as the book finally, mercifully, called to you again.

With a loud crack one of the chains holding a large stone crucifix behind the altar snapped, echoing through the church. The crucifix swung sideways for a moment and the remaining chain failed. The entire thing spun and fell forward onto the altar, cracking the stone dais it sat on.

You watched as the nuns stood there stunned, watching the symbol of their savior fall to the stone floor. Your hand between your legs, feeling the heat coming from your need as your unholy bliss was about to be satisfied.

You walked the nuns, and simply said "sit" as you pointed to a pew in front of the now toppled crucifix and the book. Your full breasts heaving as you breathed heavily, your fingers buried in your wetness as the dust settled and the shocked nuns complied, too scared to argue.

And then you straddled the toppled the cross, your soaked cunt grazing the face of the savior, your legs spread, ass facing back to the book, hips arched. You felt the book call to you, felt it summoning the demon you ached for. You felt its evil heating you, humming throughout your body.

You moaned loudly as the nuns stared, grinding your pussy across the face of the savior, sliding down his stone body and finally licking your own glistening wetness from his cold visage. You looked back at the open book, and pleaded, "Fuck me master" as you arched your back, raising your ass like an offering to the demon you desperately needed to summon.

The pages turned on the book, flipping rapidly though no breeze stirred them. From the snapped off base of the cross statue a darkness gathered. A black void the no light penetrated. The nuns found their voices at once, and their screams filled the church as they attempted to stand and flee.

Their attempt was too late. As the darkness congealed into form, you saw them, their own rosaries quickly wrapping around their necks like leashes. They struggled against them, choking, and the were dragged towards the darkness as if being tugged there like a pack of dogs.

A crimson hand reached through the dark portal, and gathered their leads. And then it stepped through. Dark, blood red skin, tall, gaunt. Its eyes so black they seemed to steal any light near them. The demon had no mouth, its muscles stood rigid on its tall thin frame like tensed cables. Words uttered in the air around it with no lips to speak them said "Heel", and the nuns immediately dropped to the knees, held fast by the rosary leashes the demon held.

You kept your ass high, exposed, your needful wet hole a sacrifice, an offering. You took in the sight of your master fully for the first time, and you trembled, wanting it so badly your own soul seemed worthless now. You looked between its legs, and licked your lips as you watched its long thick cock swaying flaccid between its thighs.

It walked to you, its dark eyes fixated on your exposed gift. The nuns came on all fours after it, complying like the worthless dogs it made them. The demon looked down on them, and waved his hand, its long obsidian talons clicking as he did. The nuns stood as a group, and started quickly disrobing, pulling their habits off, and their long nightgowns beneath.

They moaned and writhed in front of the demon, now naked. Some got back on their knees as you watched, others stood legs spread, offering their breasts to the beast. The demon walked close to you as his naked servants followed, moaning, as desperate as you for its attention.

The long taloned fingers of his hand grazed you, running down your back as you thrust your ass up, still straddling the stone crucifix.

The demon waved its hand again, and the nuns rushed to you, lifting you roughly off the cross, and carrying, dragging you, to the altar. They dropped you on your back, your hips hanging off one end, your neck cradled by the open book as your head hung from the other side.

You turned to see the beast again, and saw one of the nuns on her knees, greedily taking its massive cock in both her hands. Jealousy coursed through you, but the demon slapped her away even its shaft stiffened from her hands.

It pointed at you, and at once four of the nuns rushed to you. One of them buried her face between your thighs, hungrily lapping at your swollen clit, shoving her tongue into your wet sex. Two others came to your sides, licking your nipples as they stiffened, and other kissed you desperately. You had never felt or wanted the touch of another woman, but you took in their actions, felt the want from them, and let them pleasure you. You pushed the one at your lips away to better admire your master, and saw him watching, his cock now fully erect, jutting out, his seed already dripping from the flared crimson head as he watched his servants prepare you.

The nuns fought for the gift of you, they shoved themselves to taste you. One of them simply straddled the pew next to you and started fucking herself with the wooden knob on the armrest.

Then the demon clapped its hands and instantly the nuns backed away like scolded pets. The whimpered, some still touching themselves, but all of them watching their masters hard cock as it walked to you.

The beast walked between your legs, and its thick red cock dropped down your stomach as it reared its hips back, sliding the heavy length of it down your body, preparing to take you. You reached down, moaning, your sex dripping. You grabbed your thighs and held your legs wide open, pleading to be fucked.

The demon took you. It drove the flared head if its thick cock deep inside you, spreading you, nearly breaking you. You screamed in blissful pain as pleasure rushed through your body. Untold sensations, never meant to be constrained in a mortal woman's body consumed you. Orgasms wracked you from head to toe, your body shuddering as the beast fucked you, sending its length into you again and again. You convulsed, eyes rolling back as the unholy sensations lifted your pleasure beyond any normal limits. You heard your own voice, detached from your quivering body. You were pleading to be fucked harder, to be raped, to be used, to be taken, to be filled.

And the demon did fill you. At the point where you felt another instant of this ecstasy would tear you apart, the demon paused, its thickness filling you as no man could. You felt it swell inside your trembling walls. A hot torrent of its unholy seed erupted from it, and you opened your eyes to see the nuns pinning you down by your shoulders and keeping your legs spread high as the demon finally came inside you. Wave after convulsive wave of corruption poured from its long cock, nearly pushing you off it were it not for the nuns pinning you down. You whimpered and moaned as it triggered another orgasm, and then you felt another wave of hot cum swell down the length of the demons shaft. You shuddered, knowing this one would break you.

And it did, it flooded past your delicate human limits. It filled you. You knew this was the goal, you pushed yourself harder down on the demon's cock, taking this final offering, feeling its sin fill you like a vessel, replacing what was.

You mouth opened, and a trickle of the demon's gift bubbled from your moaning lips as your eyes rolled back to all whites.

And then it was over. You looked down at yourself, at your own broken body, at the open book, and saw a new page. A page with a beautiful woman, head back, smiling as one of hell's creatures raped her.

You took the demon's hand as it lead you away from your body to the dark portal. You could see the shocked nuns coming to their senses as you stepped through, but it would be the last earthly site you ever saw. There was only pleasure now, only sin, and only corruption.

You smiled one last time as you stepped over.