Hospital Debauchery

"Thank you for coming, Theresa, Elias," he said, his voice smooth, warm as honey but laced with a dark, teasing edge, like a predator toying with prey. "What brings you here today? What burdens are weighing on your souls?" Devi said, his tone was gentle.

Theresa drew a deep breath, her hands tightening around her rosary, the beads digging into her palms, her eyes flicking to Elias before locking onto Devon's with fervent intensity. "It's Elias," she began, her voice low but resolute, trembling with the weight of her conviction. "I feel… I feel like he's been overtaken by something sinister, something unholy, like a demon has burrowed into his soul, twisting him into someone I barely recognize." Her words were a quiet thunder, each one landing with deliberate force, her gaze pleading, as if she could will the pastor to see the darkness she felt so deeply.

"He's not the man I married. He's consumed, angry, distant, lost in a shadow I can't touch. I've prayed, fasted, begged God to pull him back, but it's like he's slipping deeper into this… this malevolent grip every day." Her voice quivered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her faith a desperate anchor in the storm she believed was swallowing her husband.

Elias's head snapped up, his eyes widening, shock etched across his face as vivid as the sunlight slicing through the church's stained glass. His mouth parted, a sharp, ragged breath escaping, his brows shooting up in disbelief, his heart slamming against his ribs.

A demon? Possessed? The words struck like a fist, his mind reeling, his blood roaring in his ears. How could she say this, knowing he had witnessed Devon fucking her right in front of him, her moans echoing all over the room, her body yielding to the man who'd orchestrated his downfall cruel games.

And now she sat there, her face serene, her voice fervent, accusing him of being possessed by some infernal force, as if his pain, his ruin, was a spiritual defect rather than the wreckage of her infidelity and Devon's relentless machinations. His hands trembled in his lap, his jaw clenching so tightly his teeth ground together, his voice trapped in his throat as he stared at her, betrayal and shock warring in his chest, a bitter taste rising in his mouth.

Theresa pressed on, her voice growing more impassioned, oblivious to the tempest brewing beside her. "It's been worsening, Pastor Daniel. He's secretive, erratic, like he's fighting something inside him, something dark that's pulling him away from me, from God. I've tried everything, prayer, scripture, love but it's like he's drowning in this… this evil, and I don't know how to save him." Her eyes shimmered, her hands clutching her rosary so tightly the beads left red marks on her skin, her conviction a fire that burned brighter with every word.

Elias's shock deepened, his face paling, his eyes darting between her and the pastor, her words piling like boulders on his chest, each one heavier, more suffocating. The room felt like it was closing in, the air thick with his unspoken rage, his pulse hammering like a war drum as he fought to keep from exploding.

"P-Pastor."

Finally, he couldn't bear it any longer. "Theresa, stop," he snapped, his voice a jagged blade, slicing through her words with raw desperation. His hands shot up, palms out, his eyes blazing with a volatile mix of fury and pain, his chest heaving. "For God's sake, let me speak. I'm the reason we're here, so just… let me talk." His voice trembled, not with weakness but with the weight of everything he'd buried, every humiliation he'd endured.

Theresa froze, her lips parting in surprise, her brows knitting together, but she nodded slowly, her hands falling still, the rosary beads silent for the first time. She turned to him, her expression a mix of concern and wariness.

Elias leaned forward, his elbows digging into his knees, his hands rubbing together as if to anchor himself, his eyes fixed on the floor, unable to meet Devon's gaze, which he felt like a weight pressing down on him. "It started with this… group," he began, his voice low.

"They called themselves the Velvet Circle. They promised me everything, power, authority, wealth beyond anything I'd ever dreamed of. Things I'd spent my whole life chasing at the hospital, things I thought I'd earned."

He swallowed hard, his throat tight, his fingers clenching until his knuckles whitened. "But there was a cost. They demanded submission, total and absolute. It wasn't just loyalty, it was… degradation, a twisted kind of worship." His voice dropped to a whisper, his face flushing with shame, his eyes squeezing shut as he sank into the memories, the words spilling like a confession he'd never meant to voice aloud.

"They had this woman," he continued, his voice barely audible, his body tense as the memories flooded back, vivid and searing. "She was… commanding, ruthless, part of the Circle. They made me her slave, forced me to kneel, to… to worship her body like she was some kind of goddess." His voice broke, his hands trembling as he relived the humiliation her spit dripping down his face, hot and degrading, her piss soaking his skin, the sharp sting of her heels pressing into his back as she laughed, her body an altar he was made to serve, her commands stripping him of dignity, binding him to the Velvet Circle's will.

"She'd spit on me, piss on me, use me in ways I can't even… I thought it was the path to power, but it broke me, piece by piece. And then Devon, this man at the hospital he turned it all against me, used it to ruin everything I'd built, exposed me, humiliated me." His eyes stayed closed, his voice shaking, lost in the shame, the betrayal, oblivious to the shift in the room, the air growing thicker, charged with a new, dangerous energy.

As Elias spoke, his eyes shut tight, Devon's hand moved with a slow, deliberate grace, his fingers peeling off the fake mustache and goatee, revealing his true face the sharp jaw, the piercing eyes, the faint, wicked smirk that had haunted Elias's nightmares.

Theresa's breath caught, her eyes widening, a gasp frozen on her lips as recognition slammed into her like a tidal wave. Her heart pounded, her mouth opening to speak, but Devon raised a hand, a swift, commanding gesture, silencing her with a single look, his eyes locking onto hers with a magnetic intensity, his smirk deepening into something primal, possessive.

She stared at Elias, still lost in his confession, his voice trembling with pain, then glanced back at Devon, her pulse racing, her body reacting before her mind could catch up, a flush creeping up her neck, a heat pooling between her thighs, a dark, forbidden pull she couldn't resist. His gaze held her, a silent command, and as if possessed by something far more earthly than demonic, she rose from her chair, her movements slow, almost hypnotic, her rosary slipping to the floor with a soft clatter, abandoned like her faith in that moment.

Devon leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers, his smirk a wicked invitation as he beckoned her closer with a subtle tilt of his head, his fingers brushing the edge of the desk with deliberate intent.

Theresa moved toward him, her steps hesitant but inexorable, her breath shallow, her body trembling with a mix of shock, guilt, and a raw, insatiable arousal she couldn't name. Her dress clung to her curves, the fabric stretching as she moved, her bun loosening further, dark strands spilling across her shoulders, catching the candlelight.

She stopped in front of him, her hands shaking as they reached for his belt, her fingers fumbling with the buckle, the clink of metal sharp and jarring in the quiet room, a stark contrast to Elias's droning confession, his voice a steady hum of pain and shame, oblivious to the betrayal unfolding behind him.

Theresa's fingers worked faster now, her breath hitching, her eyes locked on Devon's, a storm of fear, guilt, and hunger swirling in her gaze. She unbuckled his belt, the leather sliding through the loops with a soft, seductive hiss, her hands trembling but deliberate as she unzipped his trousers, the sound loud in the hushed office. His cock sprang free, thick and rock-hard, veined and pulsing, the head glistening with a bead of pre-cum, the sight making her gasp softly, her pussy clenching under her dress, a rush of heat flooding her core, her panties dampening instantly.

She wrapped her hand around his shaft, her fingers barely closing around his massive girth, stroking him slow and deliberate, feeling him throb in her grip, the heat of him searing her palm, the slickness of his pre-cum coating her fingers.

"Fuck," Devon murmured, his voice low and thick, dripping with lust, his eyes burning into hers, his smirk widening as she worked him, her strokes growing faster, more confident, her thumb circling the head, spreading his pre-cum, the wet sound of her hand on his cock filling the room, obscene and thrilling.

She sank to her knees, her dress riding up her thighs, the fabric bunching, revealing the tops of her stockings, her eyes never leaving his, her breath hot and heavy as she leaned forward, her lips parting, her tongue darting out to lick the head of his cock, tasting the salty, musky pre-cum, the flavor sending a shiver through her, her pussy dripping, her clit throbbing with need. She moaned, the sound muffled as she took him into her mouth, her lips stretching wide around his girth, her tongue swirling around the head, teasing the sensitive underside, exploring every vein, every ridge, with a desperate, worshipful hunger.

Devon groaned, a deep, primal sound, his hand tangling in her hair, loosening her bun completely, dark strands cascading over her shoulders as he guided her, his hips rocking slightly, fucking her mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts. Her mouth was warm, wet, and tight, her lips sucking him hard, her tongue working him with a frantic, insatiable need, her pussy gushing under her dress, her clit pulsing as she took him deeper, gagging slightly as he hit the back of her throat, her eyes watering but blazing with lust, tears streaking her cheeks.