Chapter 1

The heavy iron door clanged shut, the sound echoing in the small, stone cell. Sister Elena, her habit rustling softly, clutched the silver crucifix tighter in her hand. Across the room, chained to the wall, was Damien. He was everything she had been warned about – a creature of shadow, with skin like bleached bone and eyes that seemed to swallow light. His long, black hair fell like a curtain around his gaunt face, and a chilling smirk played on his thin lips. He looked less like a monster and more like a fallen angel – a terribly captivating one.

Sister Elena had been entrusted with a sacred duty: to guard Damien, a demonic entity captured after a brutal encounter with the Order. She was young, barely a few years into her vows, and perhaps too naive for such a task, but her unwavering faith had made her a prime candidate. Or so the elders claimed.

—Welcome, Sister— his voice was low, a silken rasp that seemed to vibrate the air itself. —I trust you'll find my accommodations... adequate.—

Sister Elena, despite her fear, held her ground. She had been chosen for this task. She was a nun, dedicated to her faith, and she would not falter. —I am Sister Elena— she stated, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hand. —I am here to ensure your confinement.—

Elena performed her duties with meticulous care, reciting prayers, and meticulously following the Order's guidelines for guarding a demon. But in the hushed solitude of the cell, her resolve began to fray. Her gaze lingered on Damien for a moment longer than it should, studying the way his dark hair framed his pale face, the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the unsettling depth of his eyes. She became acutely aware of her own femininity, her soft curves contrasting starkly with his skeletal frame.

She found herself inexplicably fascinated. At times, he’d simply stare back at her, an unnerving intelligence flickering in his black eyes. She could feel his gaze on her, not malicious, but… assessing. It was disconcerting, yet a strange thrill would course through her at his attention. She'd catch herself wondering if his skin would be cold or warm to the touch, if those lips could do more than smirk.

A question slipped out, a question she regretted the moment it left her lips. —Why... why do you look so... pale?—

His lips curved into the slightest of smiles, a flicker of something predatory in those dark eyes. —Perhaps it's the lack of sunlight. Or perhaps— he paused, a low purr in his voice, —it's the lack of… fullness.—

One of Sister Elena's tasks was to keep the demon well fed, and, without yet understanding why, it was her favorite task.

One particular evening, as she recited her evening prayers, she found her thoughts drifting elsewhere. She imagined Damien with a full belly, round and swollen, perhaps after indulging in a feast. The image, unbidden and unexpected, sent a blush creeping up her neck. She quickly returned to her prayers, ashamed of the sinful image that had dared to surface.

She didn't know Damien could perceive her thoughts, her most secret desires. A flicker of amusement crossed his face when she thought of the swollen belly image. He then let his own thoughts wander to the concept of endless feasting, of his belly stretching to its limits, filling and round like a ripe melon. He knew his captivity wasn’t forever, and he had the patience of a being who had witnessed eons of time. But the nun… She was a fascinating distraction, a spark of forbidden desire he suddenly craved.

Over the days, Elena found herself drawn to him, an inexplicable pull tugging at the edges of her resolve. There was a magnetism to his presence, a simmering danger that both terrified and intrigued her. She knew, logically, that she should hate him, fear him, but her heart, that fickle organ, was betraying her.

And his game started…

He had the power to manipulate her, to play on her hidden desires. During his meals, meager portions brought by older nuns, Damien deliberately made a show of devouring his food with ravenous hunger, stretching his stomach, his burps echoing in the silence. He watched Elena’s eyes widen in reaction, a flicker of something beyond disgust crossing her features. He could feel the pull of her curiosity, a need to see more, to witness the transformation. He knew he could push her further.

One night, during a particularly fierce storm, the power went out. The sanctuary was plunged into darkness, candles casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to distort the very space. Elena, startled by a particularly loud clap of thunder, rose from her stool. She stumbled, catching herself on the grate that separated her from Damien.

He reached out, his long, pale fingers brushing against her arm. The contact sent a jolt through her, something akin to shock, but with a disturbing undertone of something else. —Elena,— he whispered, his voice a low, seductive rumble, —you think about me, don’t you?—

She gasped, her face flushing bright crimson. —N-no. I…I pray for your soul.—

—You pray for many things— he replied, his eyes holding hers, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. —But your prayers are not solely for my redemption, are they?—

Swallowing hard, she took a step back, then another, her hands trembling as she turned away. The candles flickered violently as she moved, casting his shadow long against the stone wall.

Without another word, she hurried toward the door, her footsteps quick and uneven. The heavy wooden door groaned as she pushed it open, the cold air of the hallway rushing in to greet her.

And then, she was gone.

Morning light streamed through the sanctuary, casting a warm glow over the stone floor. Elena moved with purpose, lighting the altar candles, her hands steady, her mind, less so.

Behind her, beyond the iron grate, she could feel his presence before he even spoke.

—You left so quickly last night— Damien mused, his voice smooth, teasing. —Did I scare you?—

Elena inhaled sharply but did not turn. —I had no reason to stay.v

He spoke again, his voice a low purr. —You are… tense, Sister.—

Elena straightened quickly, her cheeks flushing. —It is nothing.—

—I believe you are curious— he continued, his eyes glinting with something akin to amusement. —Curious about me.—

She bristled. —That is… ridiculous. I am merely fulfilling my duty.—

—Yet you watch me. You study me.— He tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming. —Like a curious child with a peculiar insect.—

He was right, and the truth stung. Curiosity had indeed replaced her initial fear. She found herself staring at Damien, at the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, at the slight swell of his stomach. He returned her gaze, and for a breathless moment, they existed outside the confines of their roles – nun and demon, prisoner and guard. Their eyes met, locking, and a spark ignited, something that transcended faith, reason, and everything she had ever known.

Then, she avoided his gaze, pretending his words had not shaken her. But he saw the way her fingers trembled, the way her breath hitched just slightly.

A wicked smile played on his lips as he leaned against the cold iron bars. She could fight, she could pray, but in the end, she would give in.

One evening, Damien, having finished the meager portion of gruel she’d brought, looked at her, his gaze piercing. —You are… strangely quiet, Sister Elena. Is something amiss?—

—No— she replied quickly, heat rising in her cheeks.

—You lie.— He leaned forward, the faint scent of something musky and earthy reaching her. —I sense… discontent. Yearning, even.—

Elena swallowed, struggling to maintain her composure. Her heart thumped wildly against her ribs. —You know nothing of my feelings.—

He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the cell. —Oh, but I do. I sense the subtle nuances of desire. For example, I sense you find my… lack of girth… displeasing.—

Her breath hitched in her throat.

He continued, his black eyes glittering. —I, on the other hand, find pleasure in… fullness. In the feeling of a taut, swollen belly.—

Elena’s secret danced on the tip of his tongue, and she felt a shiver, not of fear, but of something akin to exhilaration. This demon, this creature of darkness, was acknowledging her deepest, most hidden desires.

Over the next few weeks, their interactions shifted. Elena found herself bringing him more food, slipping in extra bread, a larger portion of stew. Damien, in turn, ate with an almost ravenous hunger, his lean body seemingly capable of holding an unnerving amount of food. Each belch that followed his meals sent a jolt through her, a confusing mix of shame and thrilling excitement. She found herself watching him, fascinated, as his belly grew rounder and fuller.

She was falling, her faith a flimsy raft in a raging sea of desire. She was sworn to celibacy, but she craved him, not just for the forbidden novelty of his demonic nature, but also for the way he understood, perhaps even shared, her most illicit desires. Elena, tormented by her secret desires, knelt before the altar, her hands clasped tightly in prayer. Her faith felt like a flimsy shield against the tide of her feelings. She was a nun. Yet, she wanted to watch Damien eat until his belly was round as a melon, to hear him burp with a satisfaction that mirrored her own secret longing.

One night, as the moon cast long shadows across the cell, Elena found herself going there. He was sprawled on the floor, his belly swollen and taut, and a low, satisfied rumble rumbled from his throat.

—You want to touch me, don't you?— Damien asked, not at all surprised she was there.

Elena looked down at her hands, her fingers trembling. She knew she should be repulsed, but all she felt was a pull, a fierce, undeniable yearning that threatened to consume her entire being. The decision before her was agonizing, a war waging within her pious soul. She was Sister Elena, a nun of God, but tonight, she was also a woman, captivated by a demon, drawn to his darkness, and strangely, to his full belly. And in the heavy silence of the night, she knew, with a growing sense of both terror and excitement, that she was about to make a choice.

Elena, unable to look away, felt a powerful urge tugging at her. Her hand trembled as she took a step towards him. —Damien— she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He met her gaze, a small, almost mischievous smile playing at the corner of his lips. —Elena,— he replied, his voice low and seductive, —you are playing a dangerous game.—

Elena moved closer to Damien and slid her hands under his shirt, caressing his swollen belly. The softness of his skin contrasted with the firmness of his full belly. Damien closed his eyes, enjoying the attention, and let out a long, loud burp, as if he were celebrating his own indulgence.

—Oh, yes… that’s it… keep it up— he whispered, his eyes growing darker and his smile wider. —I can feel your curiosity, your desire.—

Elena was lost in a sea of ​​unfamiliar sensations. The temptation was too strong, and her faith seemed to fade at the intensity of her desires. With trembling hands, she began to unbutton his habit, revealing his curvaceous body.

—Come on, Sister Elena… don’t resist. Let me show you pleasures you never imagined— Damien whispered, freeing himself from his chains in one fluid movement. He approached Elena, taking her face in his hands, and kissed her passionately.

The nun gave herself over to that kiss, feeling Damien's tongue urgently exploring her mouth. His hands moved down her body, caressing her breasts and sliding down to her crotch, where he found her growing wetness.

—You have a delicious body, nun. And your fetish is as unique as it is tantalizing— Damien murmured against her ear, his fingers venturing beneath her underwear. —Let me show you what it feels like to have a demon inside you.—

Elena moaned, arching her back as Damien's skilled fingers stimulated her. The feeling of pleasure was overwhelming, and her body responded with an intensity that both frightened and excited her.

With agile movements, Damien lifted her up and placed her on the wooden table in the center of the cell. The young nun clung to his back, feeling the hardness of his body against hers.

—Now, prepare to feel something extraordinary— Damien whispered, positioning himself between her spread legs. With a slow, deliberate movement, he entered Elena, filling her with his hardened member.

The nun let out a high-pitched moan, a mix of pain and indescribable pleasure. Damien moved with a hypnotic cadence, filling and emptying her with each thrust. His swollen belly pressed against hers, causing occasional burps to echo through the small cell.

—You like it, nun? You like the feel of my belly against yours as I fuck you?— Damien whispered, his voice husky and full of desire. —I can feel your wetness, your body responding to every movement. You are mine now.—

Elena couldn’t think straight, she only could feel. Pleasure consumed her, and her body responded with moans and instinctive movements. The feeling of having Damien inside her, of feeling his swollen belly pressing against hers, was something she had never experienced.

The room echoed with the sounds of their passion: Elena's moans, Damien's burps, and the slapping of their bodies against the wooden table. The nun clung to him, feeling her control slip away with each thrust.

In a moment of ecstasy, Elena felt a surge of pleasure consume her completely. Her body trembled, and a gasp escaped her throat. Damien, sensing her orgasm, increased the intensity of his movements, seeking his own climax.

That night, the cold stone cell witnessed something that should never have happened. Elena, the nun sworn to God, surrendered to the pull of a demon. She found herself captivated by the way his pale skin flushed, the way he devoured her, not with teeth or claws, but with a slow, deliberate passion that ignited a fire within her that had been dormant for so long.

Later, exhausted and ashamed, she lay beside him, her body still tingling with the forbidden experience. She was a fallen woman, a sinner. But as she looked at him, her eyes met his, and within their dark depths, she saw not judgment but an understanding that whispered of a shared secret.

The lines of her faith had blurred, her carefully laid plans shattered by a desire she never knew she possessed. Now faced with a choice, Elena knew that her faith, her vow of chastity, and the Order’s expectations wouldn't be enough to subdue the raw power and desire she felt for Damien. She had two choices: to suppress the feelings, becoming a prisoner of her own faith, or to embrace the chaos, the sin, and the thrilling, terrifying possibilities that lay with the demon she was charged to guard. Her heart and body had already chosen a path. It was only a matter of time before her mind would follow.