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et vitam aeternam

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There was a person outside the church.

It wasn’t fair that Sister Edith only had time to tidy the chapel after most of the nuns had gone to sleep. Most of the time she didn’t mind. It was one of the few times she was unchaperoned, not with the other novices or under strict supervision from the Mother Superior. 

But now it meant she was alone.

She had lit a few candles by which to see while she worked and the shadow outside the window had made her jolt in surprise. Looking closely, she could see a figure through the bottom of the stained glass, even in the darkness of the night. 

The warnings from her mother blared through her head, but the stranger was outside on a bitterly cold night.

The door creaked as she opened it. 

The stranger was a woman, skinny and very tall. Her hair was dark and loose, wild curls circling her face. Her skin was impossibly pale, almost glowing in the light of Edith’s lantern and her own lit cigarette. 

Unbidden, she wrinkled her nose. What an unpleasant vice.

Then the woman grinned, a close-lipped thing, and the nun couldn’t help her blush. She was beautiful, but in a way that made her defenses automatically go up. Edith had been taught not to trust beautiful things, and something about this woman seemed especially dangerous. Her eyes were bright and alert, like a predator stalking its prey. 

“Evening, sister.” The woman said. “Late night?”

“The chapel is closed.” Edith said, her own voice quiet, but steady. “If you need assistance, I can wake the Abbess. We should still have some food.”

“No need to wake Mother Superior. I’m afraid your food wouldn’t do me any good.” The woman drew in another drag and breathed it out, thankfully away from Edith. “What’s your name, sister?”

“Edith.” She said hesitantly. She still wanted to get one of the older nuns; she was barely far enough along in her novitiate to wear the habit. She likely wasn’t qualified to help this woman get what she needed from the Church and the last few years had drilled into her even harder than her mother had that she was to be submissive to authority. 

“Mmm.” The woman smiled again. There was something strange about her teeth; her canines looked sharper than normal and even with her mouth closed, the sharp points rested on her red lower lip. “Richie. There, you needn’t look so spooked. We’re no longer strangers. Stop looking as if you’re going to bolt.”

“None of us are strangers in Christ.” Edith said, instead of what she wanted to do, which was indeed to duck back into the safety of the chapel and firmly close the door behind her. 

“And he guards us against evil.” Richie quoted back.

Edith nodded on reflex. She was protected-- to worry otherwise was blasphemous. “How can I help you, Richie?”

“I need somewhere to stay for the night.” Richie said, her gaze not leaving Edith’s. 

She was a woman, there may have been room for her in the nunnery. The words you can sleep here were just on the tip of Edith’s tongue. Unbidden, an image rose in her mind of this woman in Edith’s bed, leaning against her pillow with the same self-satisfied smile and Edith mentally shook her head.

“The inn is about ten minutes down the hill,” she said instead, “the same way you came. The innkeeper is a good man, you can tell him the nuns sent you.”

Richie’s eyes flicked up above her head, into the dimly lit chapel. Something about the set of her mouth still seemed amused, and Edith realized she was staring at her lips, at her oddly sharp teeth. She quickly looked down.

“Thank you, sister. I appreciate it.”

Edith wanted to tell her to call her by her name. It was still a little jolting, to be reminded that she would be a nun soon. She always knew she had been destined for the church, ever since her mother started talking about marriage when she was a little girl. But the hallowed title of ‘sister’  sat strangely in her chest, somehow. 

“Go with God.” Edith said, already easing the door shut between her and the hungry look in Richie’s bright eyes. 


The next morning, the abbey was abuzz with hushed conversations. 

Nuns weren’t supposed to gossip. But being above earthly temptations was always easier said than done and Edith could hear whispering underneath the priest’s droning Latin of morning mass. 

She tried to block it out, keeping her eyes closed and head bowed, but it was hard to ignore when two of the other novices started murmuring in the pew beside her. 

“Did you hear about Magdalena?” 

Magdalena was the innkeeper’s daughter, a young woman around her age. She could clearly picture her friendly smile and pretty cheekbones. Something good could have happened to her, but the novice’s tone was the repressed satisfaction of being able to share bad news. 

“One of the villagers found her in the forest last night.”


“She must have been sleepwalking. Sister Helen told me she was so pale they thought she might have frozen! She still hasn’t woken up.”

The second novice tsked . “The woods aren’t safe that late at night, I’ve heard of animal attacks. She should take care to bolt her door if she’s going to run wild like that.”

“Or her father should do it for her.” The first one replied.

Edith couldn’t help but whisper an angry “Be quiet.

Just her luck that the Abbess happened to glance behind her at that moment.


Many hours later, after the sun had long set, Sister Edith was back in the candle-lit chapel. 

It didn’t matter that she had been denied supper, or that she winced every time her right palm touched the broom handle. Talking during mass had earned her a swift punishment and neglecting her duties would earn her even more. 

Edith was less used to pain than some of the other trainees. Her mother had been strict, she’d had to be, what with raising a girl on her own. But she’d never struck her. Sonia’s punishments had been more subtle and often inexplicable. 

Reflexively, she raised her eyes to the stained-glass image of the Lord. She had a father’s guiding hand now and she mustn’t disappoint him. Or Mary, Blessed Mother, staring down at her with her kind expression.

Her palm stung and she hissed, letting go of where she was clenching the broom tightly. The lash mark had darkened to a deeper, angry red that was almost incongruous on her pale hands. She had yet to develop calluses, something at which the other novices often scoffed at. She was soft and delicate, but she had taken her punishment and now this lash was the physical proof of her pain. 

Edith was staring at her hand, preparing to press at it, when there was a knock at the door. 

Gripping the broom like it might do her any good, Edith went over to open the door for the woman from the night before.

She knew it was going to be her. Who else would come to the convent this late?

Edith drew herself up to her full height. It wasn’t much-- she barely came up to Richie’s chin-- but she tried not to let that matter as she glared, wordlessly expressing her disapproval. 

“Evening, sister.” Richie said, the same amused smile as the night before revealing the sharp tips of her canines. “Am I interrupting?”

Edith glanced down at her broom, refusing to feel foolish but putting it aside nonetheless. “What do you want?” She said, brushing her hands off on her habit. 

“Is that any way to talk to a wretched creature in need?” She looked better than she had before, like she had finally eaten a good meal. The slight touch of gauntness was gone from her face, although she was just as pale under the light of the candles. 

“How dare you come back to hallowed ground?” Edith hissed, forgetting herself. “I know it was you. You harmed Magdalena, somehow.”

Richie smiled again, her teeth glinting. “You know, you’re pretty suspicious for a nun.”

Edith could have spit. “I should call for a priest, right now, to burn you up where you stand.”

Richie shrugged, looking infuriatingly calm.“He can try. You can call as many men in stupid hats you like, but then you won’t get to hear what I have to offer you.”

What on God’s earth could this monster offer her? “I want for nothing.”

Richie tilted her head, considering this. “You care about the villagers?”

There was a correct answer to that. “Yes, of course.”

“And you want that girl to wake up?”


“If I go back to see her tonight, she won’t.” Richie said flatly. 

Edith felt her breath catch. It was a threat, but stated like a simple fact. “Why?”

A growl, just as inhuman as her teeth, rumbled out from her chest into the night. “I’m hungry.

On pure instinct, Edith jolted away until her back hit a pew.

The animal fear undercut an image in her mind, put there as suddenly as a vision from God. This woman, this creature, stalking the innkeeper’s daughter through the woods. Did she like it when her prey tried to run?

It would be fast. She’d have to be, to survive on her diet. She’d have caught her quickly between the trees and then it was just a matter of teeth slicing through skin, biting her neck as her meal struggled weakly under her mouth and strong hands. 

Under the moonlight, Magdalena would have looked just like Edith. 

She shivered, jolting away from that mental image and the confusing mix of emotions it dredged up. For comfort, she clenched her fingers in the cloth of her cowl. 

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Richie was still watching her, eyes intense but the inhumanity of her had receded. Her teeth were easily hidden by her red lips and she looked almost normal until she opened her mouth again.

“Don’t be scared.” She said. Edith didn’t move any closer. “I didn’t mean-- I can’t come in anyways. My kind is invitation only.”

Edith very slowly moved back towards her, too aware of her still-quickened heartbeat. Could Richie hear it, from where she was standing?

They both were silent for a long moment. The candlelight flickered across Richie’s face, illuminating the sharp edges of her face. 

Finally, Edith relented. Patience was always one of the virtues she lacked the most. 

“What do you want, Richie?” She asked softly. 

“I need to feed.” Richie said, equally as soft. “I left that girl alive, but if you let me go back there I won’t be able to stop.”

Another image, Richie kneeling over the sleeping girl and lowering her mouth to her neck. Edith didn’t know how that made her feel. She felt like she had escaped this fate the first night only by rules she hadn’t understood at the time. And the thought she might have been the first victim made an inexplicable feeling rise in her chest. 

“Must it be this town?” Edith asked, knowing full well that condemning a different village to this creature was also immoral. But she wanted to know why she had stopped in this backwoods province at all. 

“I have my reasons for staying here.”

“What can I do to stop you?”

Richie didn’t smile, but there was something in the set of her bright eyes to suggest satisfaction that Edith was even listening to her. “I am offering you the chance to martyr yourself, sister.”

Edith knew her face must have betrayed her fear, because Richie hastened to add, “Only a little, of course. I just need enough blood to survive and avoid certain... temptations.”

Again, that same inexplicable tightness. 

“I’m sure your blood will be enough to sustain me,” Richie continued, “what with its holiness and all.”

Edith’s eyes strayed to that statue of the Blessed Mother. The epitome of womanhood, of sacrifice, of purity . She gave up every part of her body to God. 

What was a little blood to something like that?

Edith took a deep breath and finally stepped within reach. She could almost smell her now, the night air and the curious lack of human scent. The smell of smoke was gone. Instead, Richie had the slightest perfume, something sharp and coppery. She wondered what she smelled like to Richie. If her blood called out to her. Based on the way her pupils dilated as she got closer, she could imagine so. 

There was a brief rush of satisfaction at that, followed by shame. It was unfamiliar, to be desired like Richie so clearly desired her blood. Instead of the vision of Richie mouthing at the girl from the village, she would instead sink her teeth in Edith. There was the moral satisfaction at saving an innocent life, yes, but there was something else there too that she refused to think about.

Carefully, Edith pushed up one of her sleeves, exposing her wrist and forearm. This was the most anyone had seen of her skin since she first entered the nunnery. Even though she was mostly still covered, she still felt a shiver go through her at the way Richie stared at her seemingly so breakable wrist. 

Then, quietly Richie asked her, “What happened to your hand?”

It was so unexpected she didn’t think to preserve the illusion of a well-behaved nun. 

“I talked out of turn during mass.”

Moving slowly, as if to give her another chance to pull away, Richie gently wrapped her fingers around her arm and tugged her a little bit closer. Edith’s breath hitched, waiting for the fangs to come out, but Richie instead did something unexpected.

Carefully, she pressed Edith’s palm to her cheek. 

She had to hold back a gasp of surprise. The monster’s skin was cool to the touch and remarkably soothing against the sting of her palm. For the first time all day, her hand didn’t ache and the tension in her shoulders relented. 

“Thank you.” She said, sincerely. 

“Don’t mention it,” Richie said, before opening her mouth wide and biting down. 

It hurt. The kind of jolting pain that awakened every single part of her body in an effort to pull away. Richie had an iron grip on her arm, though, and before she even had time to cry out the pain faded. Now, instead, there was a slow-moving pleasure, thick like honey, sliding through her veins to the rest of her body.

She shivered, watching Richie lick around the marks on her wrist and drive her teeth back into the dark puncture wounds. The pleasure was making her feel warm and unsteady, which only increased as the monster continued to feed on her. Her palm was the one chilled part of her now, still pressed against Richie’s cheek, but dimly she could feel her skin warming up as the blood flowed freely from her to Richie. 

Paradoxically, she had never been more aware of every part of her body while also feeling like she could float away. She was grounded, physically, only by the grip on her arm and the fangs in her wrist. But as more and more of her blood was sucked out of her, the floaty feeling got stronger. All she could feel and think about was the warmth and the pleasure. The rest of her thoughts were simply drifting. 

Dimly, she could feel a vague sense of worry at how disconnected her body felt. The pleasure was overwhelming now, enough that she was beginning to feel weak. The floor now felt far less solid than it did before. 

The Blessed Mother stared down at her, her expression no less pleasant for being carved from stone. How many times had Edith knelt before her, directing her pleas to the closest thing God had to a woman’s face. More than she ever had to her son. And now, all Mary and her distant smile could do was watch as a monster got her teeth into Edith. 

A nagging thought finally made its way through the fog: she hadn’t eaten since yesterday. 

Edith opened her mouth to warn Richie, but before she could form the words, unconsciousness rushed up to meet her. 


When Edith awoke, it was almost a surprise. When her eyes had closed, she had expected that it would be for the last time. 

Instead, she found herself lying on the chapel floor. It was still dark outside, dark enough that it took her a moment to realize where she even was. Even more confusingly, she was alone but she could still smell that coppery scent. As soon as she lifted her head, she realized it came from the pillow her head had been lying on. Even in the dim light of her candle, it was clearly Richie’s coat. 

Before she had the chance to let that oddly touching bit of kindness sink in, a wave of hunger swept over her. She was famished, in a way she had never been before, like there was a hole in the center of stomach that demanded her entire attention.

Beside the coat, in an even more inexplicable bit of care, there was an apple and a flaky pastry from the village. Edith didn’t stop to think about the implications of a monster feeding her, she just wolfed down both with no regard for her manners. The apple was tart and crisp, the pastry sweet and perfect and both were the best thing she had eaten in months. 

Hunger satisfied for now, Edith sat up to look at her wrist. The wound was an angry red, but closed over with some sort of clear film. Carefully, she touched the fingers of her other hand to puncture wounds in disbelief. It didn’t seem real, what she had let Richie do to her, but there was physical proof right on her own body. 

Edith could feel her breathing pick up, the telltale signs for one of her ‘episodes’. But she couldn’t have a fit in the chapel in the middle of the night. Carefully, she took in several deep breaths before realizing what she was seeking. Without hesitation, she grabbed the coat and put it over her mouth, breathing in the same scent she had woken up to. 

The bright shock of the coppery smell broke her out of the spiral. Carefully, she sat up, letting out a low hiss at how shaky she still felt. The food had helped, significantly, but what wasn’t helping was the ache she could feel in her lower stomach. 

She hitched up her skirt enough to investigate and her hunch about the familiar feeling was correct. As well as a truly embarrassing amount of wetness in general (that she refused to think about, as she did with most things that happened between her legs), there was a shock of red on her fingertips. Of all the timings. 

At least a day of rest awaited her, after she cleaned herself up. 


It hadn’t taken very long for the other nuns to learn to leave Edith alone during her monthly agony. 

She wasn’t good for much other than curling up in her bed and silently wishing for death. Often she wished for death less than silently, which got her stern looks and, occasionally, nips of brandy from Sister Theresa’s secret store.

All the lectures on how this was Eve’s punishment that she’d listened to, terrified, as a child weren’t much help when the pain hit. 

Edith curled tighter around herself and the warmed rag pressed to her stomach, seeking some comfort. Unlike the other novices around her, sleep wouldn’t come easy that night. She had dozed off a few times during her long, painful day, exhausted from the night before, but now she was the only one awake. Even Sister Martha had returned, grumbling, from Edith’s customary task of cleaning the chapel and was now snoring gently. 


Edith looked around, confused at the unfamiliar sound.  


A second time. No one around her stirred.


As quietly as she could, she stepped onto the cold stone floor and made her way to the window. The bright moon overhead revealed a figure on the grounds, arm raised up to throw another pebble. 

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought the monster would come back. She had promised to, after all. But in how much Edith had avoided the thought of what she had done the night before, she had almost convinced herself it had been some sort of dream. Richie, however, with her teeth gleaming in the moonlight and her shock of wild black hair, looked far too tangible to ignore. 

With another quick look around to make sure the other girls were sleeping, Edith whispered down furiously: “What are you doing?

“Meet me down in the chapel in five minutes,” Richie said, not even bothering to lower her voice, “or the next rock breaks a window.”

Edith had no doubt that she would honor that promise. She grabbed the coat.

The chapel was cleaner than normal and she felt a moment of guilt at how much harder Martha had to have worked. The open door revealed the now familiar face of Richie, her monster, grinning widely. 

“Evening, sister.” She said. 

The flash of her teeth reminded her of how they feeling of them sinking into her skin. She shuddered. 

“Did you not get enough last night?” Edith said.

Richie shrugged. “I’m not going to pass up on a steady supply.”

Is that what she was now? 

Another glance at Mother Mary for strength and Edith stepped closer. She still wasn’t in reach from where Richie was waiting behind the invisible barrier, but apparently that was close enough. 

Richie’s mouth shut tight with an audible click, but her fangs had already descended over her bottom lip. Startled, Edith watched as the muscle in her jaw tensed and her nose flared out. 

“Are you…” Richie said slowly. It appeared as if it was difficult for her to talk around her fangs. “are you bleeding right now?”

Edith felt her face go warm immediately. This wasn’t something she ever thought she would have to discuss with something like Richie. “I--.”

Richie’s gaze moved downwards and for a second; Edith swore she was going to start drooling like a wolf.

“Come a little closer?” Richie said and while her words were almost conversational, the tone wasn’t. 

Edith hesitated and as if in retaliation, the pain reared back up. Before she could hide it, she winced. 

“Does it hurt?” Richie’s bright eyes were more intense than ever. 

She nodded.

“I can help.” Richie said slowly. Edith was still out of reach, but she was subtly straining forwards to where she hit the edge, her hands tight in the doorframe. “I promise, Edith, I can make you feel so good.”

Edith stared. This was the first time Richie had used her name and it felt significant. And intimate. She couldn’t stop staring at the fangs. All she could seem to think about was how warm and floaty her teeth in her wrist had made her feel the night before. All day, curled up on her bed, she had avoided reliving the sensation, but now that she was so close she could smell Richie the thoughts seemed to fill her mind. 

“How?” The nun said quietly. 

“Let me in.” The monster said back. 

Edith immediately shook her head. 

“Don’t you want to feel good?” Her voice had gone smooth and low. Tempting. Edith felt almost like that voice was directly in her ear, brushing away her worries. 

“I shouldn’t…” She was not sure how that sentence would end.

“I’ll take care of you.” Richie says, her voice full of promise. 

And deep down, wasn’t that everything she had ever wanted?

Slowly Edith stepped forward. This close, Richie’s height was enough to loom over her. Edith, with her eyes on Richie’s impossibly bright ones, touched the tips of her fingers to Richie’s wrist, turned even whiter with her grip on the doorframe. Wrapping her hand around hers, she pulled Richie into the chapel. 

There was a moment of silence. Richie stared down at Edith, closer than they had ever stood before. The two women breathed in tandem. Chest to chest, they pressed together in the candlelight of the chapel. 

Then, Richie attacked. 

Before she knew what was happening, Edith was lifted off her feet. In what felt like a single breath, her back slammed into something hard-- the altar-- and Richie was lifting her onto it, her legs splayed over the edge. She opened her mouth-- to protest, to beg, she didn’t know-- but before she could say anything, Richie was already pulling up her skirt.

The unfamiliar feeling of cold air on her bare legs made her hiss. Richie didn’t seem to notice as she pulled down Edith’s sparse layers until all of her was exposed. She wanted to cover herself, but Richie was already mouthing at the soft skin of her thigh. 

“Look at you,” Richie crooned, pressing another open mouthed kiss on the curve of her hip. “God, you look delicious.”

“Don’t blaspheme.” Edith said, purely on instinct and she twitched as Richie laughed softly from where she was still moving back up her thigh. 

“Maybe take a look at yourself, before you accuse me of blaspheming.” She said, and Edith almost moaned because she could just picture what she looked like. Spread out on the altar , hair still loose from sleep and dress pushed up to where it fell only over her chest, pressing her face back down on the altar to avoid pleading with Richie to hurry up. Every inch of her felt far too warm, flushed and wet. 

She must have looked like a virgin sacrifice to an old god, ready for her monster to just devour her. 

Before Edith could let that sink in and let the fear work her out of the hazy, desperate state she was in, Richie wrapped one hand on each of her ankles and yanked her right to the edge. Edith cried out in shock before the sound transitioned to something else as Richie finally lapped at her dripping cunt.

It felt like nothing she had ever felt before, to have someone touch her like that. Richie’s tongue was clearly practiced, as she moved quickly between tracing along her clit, to dancing along her folds before finally diving deep inside her to lick at all she could. Richie stayed there longest, driving back in again and again. Edith knew it was just to get as much blood out of her as she could, but she didn’t care because it felt like Richie was igniting her from the inside out. 

She was writhing on the altar, she knew it, but as well as her mouth on her cunt Richie kept her strong hands on Edith’s waist, holding her firm. 

Before long, she felt an unfamiliar sensation building low in her stomach. She knew that this could feel good, but this was something new. As if in response, Richie brushed the barest hint of her fangs against her and she had to bite down on her lip to stop herself from crying out. Her thighs tightened around Richie’s head, she felt her hum against her clit and she was falling.

Over the rushing in her ears, she felt Richie groan and sink her fangs, quick as a snake, into Edith’s inner thigh. The sharp sting only drew out another wave of pleasure and her back arched fully off the altar. She didn’t just want to writhe, as Richie drank deep from her. She wanted to scream. But before she could Richie’s hand slapped over her mouth, muffling her as she twitched through the last of the release. 

Edith collapsed back onto the altar, feeling more relaxed than she ever had before. But Richie clearly wasn’t finished. Her monster was still feeding from her thigh. Her sounds of contentment would have made Edith blush if she wasn’t still flushed from her first climax.  

Sanguis domini custodiat animam ,” Richie murmured against her thigh, eyes bright as she gazed up at her, “ tuam in vitam aeternam .”

Edith couldn’t look away. The blasphemy should have rankled at her, but instead all she could say was “ Amen .” 

Edith found herself pressed back against the altar, harsh and heavy in contrast to how gently Richie wormed her hand into her hair. She pulled her head to the side for the more traditional position of her teeth in her neck. 

Edith traced her hands down Richie’s side, trying to focus over the now-familiar feeling of sluggish warm in her veins. Sides, hips, the curve of her ass under the fabric. Between her legs was wet and Edith felt the sudden overwhelming need.


“What was that?” Richie said, leaning back so she could look at her. “Speak up, sweetheart.” 

Edith closed her eyes against the naked hunger on Richie’s face, arching so her neck was back on display. “More, please.

Instantly, Richie was back on her, hand tight in her hair once again. “What a pretty sound, you begging for me.” Her other hand was sliding up her side, over her hips until she was cupping one of her breasts. “I’m going to eat you alive.”

Before Edith had a chance to worry if that was literal, Richie tugged the rest of her clothes over her head. In a moment, she was fully naked under the candles of the chapel, with only her crucifix curled between her breasts. The chill made her skin tingle, but not as much as when Richie leaned back down, shot her a wink, and laved, warm and wet, over her nipple. 

Edith choked out a gasp, barely hearing Richie’s murmured “Sensitive,” as if she was noting that for later. She licked again, tracing along the hardened nub slowly, before drawing back. Edith arched back up, wordlessly asking for more and Richie indulged her for just a moment. But soon, she was pressing an open mouthed kiss just above, close to her heart. While the kisses continued, soft and sweet, the hand not tight in her hair started brushing along her cunt. 

At the same moment her fingers sunk in, blunt and overwhelming, her fangs did too. Edith sighed in relief, a breathy little noise. It should be concerning how good this already felt. How much she wanted to stay like this, hazy and spread open on Richie’s fangs and fingers for as long as she could. 

Richie thrust into her lazily, pressing the heel of her hand back down on her clit. Between the pressure between her legs and the teeth in her breast, she felt pinned down but the first time in a long time, she wanted it. 

As she felt the sensation building again, her eyes fell on her beloved statue of Mary. The Blessed Mother’s face in the candlelight was just as distantly kind as always and Edith turned away. Richie, tangible and real on top of her, was burning her from the inside out, fucking her harshly and without pause. With her bloody teeth bared, her eyes full of such hunger, Richie looked every inch the damnantion that Edith had dreaded her whole life. 

Sweetly, her monster leaned up to kiss her forehead and that was all it took to drive her into a second, shuddering climax. The rest of the world whited out: all she could feel, around and inside her, was the pleasure that Richie granted to her. 

And she was so gracious with her blessings. 

It took a while for her senses to truly come back to her. Richie’s fingers were still lazily rubbing at the inside of her cunt, sending little shivers of oversensitivity up her spine.

But she couldn’t stop the cravings, now that they had been awakened. Even with how sensitive she felt, she still whined when Richie pulled out. Clenching down around nothing felt like such a loss and to her dismay, she could feel herself tearing up. 

“My poor sweetheart,” Richie cooed, condescendingly. She cleaned her fingers off, quick flashes of her tongue peeking out between her red-tinged fingers, before brushing away the few tears. She tasted those too and Edith couldn’t help but stare as Richie licked up another part of her. 

“You need more?” Richie asked her, looking around them on the toppled altar. “Of course you can have more. I promised I’d take care of you.” 

Clearly, she found what she was looking for because her face lit up and she snatched something, hiding it out of view before Edith could see. Not that she really cared, at this point. She couldn’t care about anything but filling that awful emptiness again with whatever Richie would give her, of taking and taking until she was simply spent.

Richie pushed her back again, gently, and kissed her. She tasted like iron and salt and Edith cried out against her mouth as the two fingers slipped back inside her. Then, another, spreading her out even more. Edith moaned, feeling overwhelmed already. Richie wordlessly soothed her, kissing her cheek before she grabbed what she had just set aside. 

Edith gasped, tensing up unwillingly as something blunt and hard entered her. It was almost too much, edging on the verge of pain. When she looked down, she could see a wooden cross, one of the ones the priest held aloft in morning mass. Richie was slowly working the long end into her, her bloody fingers wrapped around the other end. The dark polished wood was already dripping at the end from where Richie was ever so slowly pushing it in and out of her, inch by inch. 

The relentless press of the cross in her cunt was making her squirm, unintentionally pulling it the slightest bit deeper into her. Without her even realizing it, tears were starting to escape again. As Richie fucked her with the cross, deeper and deeper, Edith couldn’t help but sob, squirming again. The tears were flowing for real now, dripping down her cheeks. She sobbed again and Richie paused briefly, pressing a kiss to her wet cheekbone. 

“Sweetheart?’ Richie said quietly, nuzzling gently. 

“More,” Edith cried out, trying to grind down on the cross. “More, more please, Richie--

Cutting off her pleas, her monster pulled out all the way out of her and drove back in. 

Edith nearly screamed, arching fully off the altar. Richie flexed her wrist, now grinning down at her with her inhuman teeth. Before Edith could catch her breath and beg again, Richie gripped the cross and started fully fucking it in and out of her. She set a punishing pace, irrespective of the way Edith was now truly crying, gulping in air in between her high moans and sobs. She didn’t know whether to writhe away from the feeling or let it truly overwhelm her.

The ultimate symbol of her previous devotion was thick and long in her cunt and all she could do was lie back and take it, because Richie was the one fucking it into her. 

The sweet oblivion of the pleasure floated at the back of her mind already, threatening to wash her clean of any other desires but to follow Richie around on her hands and knees, begging her for just a taste of how she was making her feel.

At the thought of that, at the reminder that she was splayed over the altar with the same crucifix that was used to bless her every morning stuffed deep inside her cunt, Edith gasped out one final sob and came so hard it hurt.

Richie soothed her through it, pressing kisses above the bite mark on her thigh. As soon as the aftershocks was finished and the cross was eased out of her, Edith was pulled off the altar, dazed, and onto her knees in front of Richie. 

She stared up at her, trying to catch her breath. Richie’s eyes were alight and wild and the shadows the candlelight cast made the sharp lines of her face stand out even more. She looked monstrous and impossibly beautiful and Edith knew that the devotion she had dedicated her life to was nothing compared to what she would do for her now. 

Richie’s long fingers were quickly undoing her front laces, pushing them aside to reveal pale skin and a thatch of dark hair. Her own cunt was pale pink and Edith could both see and smell how wet she was. It made her mouth water. 

“Come here, Sister Edith.” Richie said lowly. Edith did, leaning forward to breathe in her scent. 

The sound of her groan as Edith tentatively licked her wettest spot was encouraging. She licked again, trying to replicate the same way Richie had made her come earlier, but Richie simply wound a hand in her hair and hummed, saying “Oh, that’s a good girl. But don’t worry about that. For now, just stick out your tongue and let me come on that pretty, holy face.”

Edith complied, looking up at her with wide eyes. Richie groaned again, grinding forward against her mouth. 

“There’s plenty of time,” Richie said, over the wet sounds of her cunt against Edith’s tongue “to teach you how to properly eat me out later. I’ll turn you into a proper little whore, my sweetheart. Because I’m keeping you. How could I not? Just look at you, you’re wasted in a convent.” Richie stared down at her, tightening her grip in her hair as her thrusts began to pick up speed. “I’ll give you exactly what you want, I promise. You’re so pretty when I’m feeding from you and when I’m fucking you? Gorgeous.” 

Her voice was getting rougher. “I’m keeping you around until I use you up and then, I’ll make you like me.” Edith made a muffled sound and Richie grinned, seeming pleased. “Is that what you want, sweetheart? Do you want to be mine forever?”

Richie threw her head back and moaned, louder than Edith would have dared but it didn’t matter because her cunt ground into her so hard she had to grip her thighs to keep her balance as Richie, finally, came. 

Edith licked her clean in little laps of her tongue until Richie wound her fingers back through her hair and pulled her back. Richie bent down, slowly and surprisingly gracelessly to the floor with Edith. She kissed her, softly, and the iron of blood mixed with the taste of her cunt still filling Edith’s mouth. It was disgusting and delicious and even with the edge taken off her need she still wanted to revel in it. 

“You did so good, sweetheart.” Richie said, now gently mouthing along the bitemarks littering her body, cleaning up the stray lines of blood. “So good for me.”

Edith stretched, enjoying the satisfying soreness. She felt cleansed, pure in a way she had never felt before. She had joined the nunnery in search of exactly this sense of peace. For the rest of her now-eternal life, Edith had a purpose. Something she was made to do, down to her veins. 

Richie, seemingly satisfied with her care, kissed her one last time. Then, she picked her dark coat off the floor, dusted it off and passed it to Edith with far more reverence than she had the cross. 

“Get dressed, sister.” Her monster said. “We should get out of here before they make you clean this up.”

“Don’t call me that.” Edith said. She located her clothes, made a face, and carelessly threw them over the altar. Her shift would do her fine, under Richie’s coat. Finally, she pulled the crucifix off her neck and flung it in some dark corner, out of sight. 

Hand in hand, the two of them left the chapel and were enveloped by the night. 

Agimus tibi gratias, et vitam aeternam, amen.