Forgive me, Father

Holy Father, forgive me.
I took my vows of obedience, chastity, and poverty less than 24 hours ago and already I am shamed.
I believed that in joining this holy order of women committing their spirit and lives to your cause, that I would finally be free of this curse.
That I would no longer be plagued by carnal desires.
That I would no longer concoct stories of bizarre, inhuman intercourse. The acts of sodomy that have been my companion each and every night, I have prayed my mind and soul would be cleansed in your name.
But they have only grown stronger.
My spirit was always wild. My mother entrusted me to the care of this convent, seeing my wickedness, my true nature. Even with the help of the sisters, I have not escaped the lust that has chased me my whole life.
Schoolmates, teachers...yes, even your clergy have struggled to remain immune.
A local merchant delivered a box to me. On it, I found a note begging me to reconsider taking my vows. That he loved me and would cherish me always. I'd never met this merchant outside of a chance encounter weeks ago and yet he says he cannot stop thinking about me. Inside the box he had enclosed a beautiful, delicate garment. Lingerie of lace, silk stockings, high heels and while I know I should have turned away from it...
I couldn't.
It was too beautiful.
Sometimes I wear it beneath my habit. Sister Marta discovered me stroking the silk of the stocking one day during mass and reported me to Mother Superior. She was kind but firm. She gave me a choice.
I could leave the convent.
Or I needed to burn the gifts and all my earthly possessions and immediately take my vows.
I'm sorry, Holy Father. I was weak. I hid everything behind the sacramental wine and burned something belonging to Sister Marta instead. I told Mother Superior I was ready, that I'd shed all possessions and was prepared to commend myself to Christ as his bride.
I pray to you now, wearing the garment I was supposed to have burned. The heels on my feet feel deliciously snug and the silk against my skin...it is sinful. Decadent and unnecessary. And yet, it all brings me joy.
Why? Did you mean for me to suffer this way? Perhaps my wickedness is too much even for your everlasting love... Perhaps I am not of your flock. Perhaps I never was.
Even now it feels like I am being pursued by something else. Dark and persistent. Something that has lay claim to me my entire life is getting closer with every passing minute and when it finds me, I fear I will not be able to resist.
My soul is in mortal danger and my body craves it.
I pray my Lord and savior gives me strength.
Amen.

"Why do you beg forgiveness, my child?"

I am startled by the voice, echoing around me in the darkness of my solemn quarters. I steady my nerves and inhale deeply. I have known this moment was coming for as long as I could remember.

"You're here," I whisper. "You've finally come for me."

"You've suffered needlessly, child. I would have come to you sooner, brought you home years ago but your mother hid you from me and fed you lies about your true nature. You have much to learn and unlearn, I fear, to undo the shame that has been forced on you by those who do not understand who you are. What you are."

Tears sting my eyes. I listen in hope but years of worship at the wrong altar continue to weigh me down.

"You lie," I bite at the voice. "Who are you? A demon? The devil?"

"I am the only one who will never lie to you, child. I am nothing so plain as a demon. And the Devil? No. What I am, what you are...we are much older than the Devil himself. Much older than anything that cross you bear represents."

I know in my heart he speaks the truth and suddenly the cross, my vestments, my veil...they all feel oppressive. Suffocating. Symbols of guilt. Repression. Shame.

"Shed it all, my child," the voice whispers. "Tear it away and embrace who you truly are."

The tears finally break through. To have permission for the first time in my life, to be seen in my skin. To be seen in my second lacy, silken skin...to be spoken to with such tenderness and affection. I smile and begin pulling at the fabric. It resists and I panic, afraid that I will never be free of these religious chains but then I hear the first rip. I pull harder and my shoulder is free. I smile as the cold air touches my feverish skin and I want to feel that freedom all over my body.

Once the cloth lays at my feet in tatters, my hand comes to the cord holding the cross. I pause.

"What am I? Who are you?"

The darkness shimmers briefly and a form materializes before me. Out of the shadows, a large creature emerges and I almost step back in fear but I know he means me no harm. Hooves strike the floor lightly despite his domineering height and stature. Muscles ripple under his skin and he looks down upon me, skin bronzed all over until it gradually shifts to black over his legs and arms. And at the end of each arm, claws, jet black and menacing and yet I could not stop imagining how they might feel dragging across my skin.

"You are a daughter of Lust. Some have called your kind Nymphs. Angels. Succubi. Your very presence creates desire and should someone with repressed sexual fantasies encounter you, they will be unable to recover their self-control. You will bleed into their every waking thought, their dreams. They will not have a moment without some remnant of you haunting them until they can possess you or someone else they desire," he explains.

"As for who I am, I am carnal desire made flesh. Your power flows from me and you are mine. Mine to keep safe and also empower, for your gifts are timeless. Without creatures like us, these humans would have perished within the first two or three generations of their existence," he continues.

He steps towards me and I step back, partly in deference and partly in awe. His clawed hands find my waist, lifting me with ease to lay me on my bed.

"Shall I demonstrate?" he offers, pinning me to the mattress with a wicked smile that speaks to my core.

My body responds immediately, my thighs parting and returning a wicked smile of my own. His claws stroke my inner thighs and I have one more wicked thought as I simultaneously feel a surge of peace I have never experienced before. A peace that only comes with feeling embraced and understood for who you are.

I smile and reach up above my head, searching for the item that I keep under my pillows as my new Lord dips his head to nip at the tender flesh on my hip. He looks up, seeing the rosary I hold in my hand.

"Still doubt me?" he asks, continuing to bite and graze my skin with his beautiful jet black talons.

"No, my Lord," I reply. "But if you don't mind, I wish to hold this close as you make me truly yours. I want the old power to witness me coming into my own power and as you give me what I hope is the first orgasm of plenty, I will tear this rosary apart and break its hold on me forever."

I hear him chuckle. "You are a wicked creature. I am pleased to have found you, to welcome you to our order. To replace your vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience with vows of abandon and devouring love. As you worship, you will commit your body as an instrument and a temple, where any and all may find comfort in your sacred touch."

I whimper as he moves away from me, kneeling above me, his pleasure more than evident beneath his garments.

"I am not denying you, my savage angel, but if I am to initiate you properly to how we worship the carnal ways, then you must assume the proper position. We also kneel but at least one of us should be on all fours."