The Nun's Possession (Book 1 of "Hell's Horny Angels")

By Alana Church

Lorelei is a demon, a punisher of the damned. But one fateful day she is able to escape from Hell.

Sister Kathleen is a nun, dedicated to helping others. What will she do when an otherworldly being takes up residence in her mind? Can she control the perverse urges of a horny demon? Or will she fall into a sinful, sexy darkness? Find out today in "Hell's Horny Demon: Possession!"

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

If she still had her physical form, Lorelei would be rubbing her hands together in glee.

True, the tall, gawky youth in front of Kathleen was not at all the sort of man she would have chosen for her first sexual encounter in thousands of years. But beggars could hardly be choosers, after all.

And it had taken all of her considerable cunning to worm her way past Kathleen’s defenses and bring her to this spot to begin with. For a mortal, the woman’s willpower was really quite remarkably strong. So strong, in fact, that Lorelei briefly wondered who was actually doing the choosing. Was she actually corrupting the virginal young nun? Or were her whispered hints and the erotic dreams she had been sending Kathleen nightly only nudging her in a direction she already wished to go?

Who cares? She guided Kathleen’s hands to the ridiculous fastenings of Nick’s trousers, teasing the young man with a brush of fingers against his eager manhood. Mortal, angel, or demon, males were all alike. If you were smart enough, you could lead them around by their manhood, and they would be none the wiser for it.

With fingers that had learned how to navigate Kathleen’s clothing over the last few days, she undid the buckle of the leather belt, then the button which held Nick’s trousers up. A push, a whisper of falling cloth, and the young man was nude from waist to knee.

He swallowed, looking down at her nervously. “Is it...”

“It’s beautiful.” And Lorelei couldn’t help but wonder if it was her voice whispering in wonder and awe, or Kathleen’s. She reached out with her host’s body, feeling the hot skin, tight-stretched over the throbbing, pulsing length of Nick’s erection. If her heart had anything left in it but ashes and dust, she might have wept at the sheer, human, ordinariness of him.

~So long,~ she whimpered. It had been so long. When she, along with the rest of the rebellious angels, had been cast out of Heaven, the Almighty had cursed the male demons with a foul ugliness that was could drive a human to madness.

Which was why Lorelei had no need or desire for a sexual superman. She had lived for generations with a hideous reality that would make most humans run screaming in horror. Anything, even this untested youth, would be so much better that there was literally no comparison between the two.

But...

~Lift up your sweater,~ she urged Kathleen. ~Show him our body.~

A hint of coolness as the soft cloth was pushed upward, a balm on her pain-ravaged senses. Nick’s eyes went wide, and Lorelei stifled a hint of triumph It wasn’t her body, after all. Not yet. But it was still a good one. One to be proud of. The tips of her breasts were tingling, almost aching in their need to be touched.

She moved Kathleen’s fingers faster, watching Nick’s face go slack with pleasure. She could do it. Make him climax, bind him to the two of them. But she wanted more. Needed more.

“What can I do for you?” Nick asked, his eyes worshipful.

“You can love me.” Lorelei took Nick’s hands and put them on her breasts. “I have waited too long. I am tired of waiting. I want to know what it’s like to be with a human. A man,” she corrected quickly, hoping Nick wouldn’t catch the slip. She ran her hands up his chest, savoring the feel, and used her legs to pull him in close. “I need it, Nick. Need to be held, to be touched, to be loved.

“Can you do that for me?”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boruma Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Apr 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9780463619117

Alana Church

Born and raised in Illinois, Alana attended the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, graduating with a degree in Education in 1994. She soon found out that the teaching life was not for her, and after a series of adventures has settled down in the Chicago suburbs, where she works for a telecommunications company.Alana lives alone, surrounded by books, pictures, a pile of story ideas, and a turtle named Pedro.

Book preview

Hell’s Horny Angels

The Nun’s Possession

By Alana Church

Artwork by Moira Nelligar

Copyright 2021 Alana Church

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~~ All characters in this book are over 18. ~~

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** This book was originally titled Hell’s Horny Demon: Possession **

Prologue: Hell’s Waiting Room

It seemed inappropriate, perhaps, for a demon to complain about the souls that Earth was sending to Hell these days.

But, seriously. The quality was absolutely terrible.

Give me the fourteenth century any day, Lorelei thought, as she strode down the magma-hued halls that led to the Chamber of Lamentation. People back then knew how to sin. They weren’t so worried about eternal damnation, since most of them didn’t have much of a life expectancy anyway. Nothing like the possibility of dying of the plague next Tuesday to give your life a little extra zest.

What’s on the menu for today, Zabnack? she asked the green-skinned demon who sat behind a desk carved from human bones, dressed in a grotesque mockery of a business suit.

Her boss grinned, showing rows of serrated teeth. Lorelei hid a shiver. Same as every other day down here in the Pit, pretty Lorelei. The grin widened. Torture of the damned and the overthrow of the Kingdom of God.

Right. You’ve been promising that for the last ten thousand years. And it never happens. But it didn’t pay to let a demon of the Ninth Circle to know that you had doubts about the eventual victory of the Hellish Hosts. Hail Lucifer, she said, with what she hoped was a commendable amount of enthusiasm.

Hail Lucifer. A black, clawed hand shoved a huge book, bound in pale leather, across the desk. Sign in.

She lifted a finger, sending crimson fire to etch her sigil into the thick, heavy vellum. So what do you have for me today?

Oh, it’s a special treat. Have you been following the news from…what’s the name of that kingdom up there? The crazy one that lets its people decide who their leader is?

Lorelei blinked. Unlike many of her fellow demons, she had made a habit of keeping track of the various earthly polities as they rose and fell. But others didn’t bother anymore. Great Britain? Japan? The United States?

Zabnack snapped his fingers. Poison spattered from his claws, eating holes in the walls and in the surface of the desk. Both demons ignored it. That’s it. The United States. Disgusting notion, really. Letting the sheep decide who the shepherd is. He spat to one side. One of their so-called spiritual leaders died this morning. Here’s his file.

Lorelei took the file, glancing at the first page. Oh. Him. Does he know why he’s here?

Zabnack cackled maliciously. "Child, he doesn’t even know where he is. Trust me. This one is special. We’ve been waiting for him for years."

Her expression congealed. And Command decided to give him to me?

A clawed finger stroked her cheek. Lorelei shuddered, remembering what Zabnack had once looked like, when he bore another name, and was an angel-

As she had been, once.

-but after the War in Heaven, when God had handed down his Judgement on the rebels, the male angels had lost their heavenly beauty, while the female angels had retained theirs. It was a terrible punishment, but very just. No female could mate with a male without feeling horror at the transformation. And no male could mate with a female without seeing what they had had, and had lost through their disobedience. The beauty of the females was a constant, taunting reminder to them.

Only to start out with. Command is never wrong, Lorelei. You know that. Just…get him acquainted of how things are going to be for him now, down here in the Pit. And after that, we’ll hand him off to the regular crew.

She nodded, masking her expression. If Zabnack guessed how truly tired she was of this, he would doubtlessly find something even worse for her to do.

Zabnack and his gang of imps had outdone themselves. The chamber where the spirit had been confined was almost obscene in its ostentatious extravagance. White marble, gold leaf, and red velvet cloaked everything in the room. Clever illusions gave it the appearance of a ballroom, infinitely large, columns of malachite receding into the distance. Chandeliers dripped crystal, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow.

It was all a lie, of course.

Well! The spirit heaved himself up from a chair. It’s about damn time! Where am I? And who the hell are you?

It made it easier, she supposed, that he was so repellent. His spiritual form was still in flux, shifting from a morbidly obese male in his eightieth year, cosmetics and hair dye fighting a losing battle to conceal his age, to a tall, moderately attractive man, with pale blue eyes and sandy blond hair, which she supposed was what he had looked like in his misspent youth.

But all of it was tainted with his spiritual rot. To a trained eye like hers, the litany of his sins, unencumbered by anything like remorse or regret, was as easy to read as a child’s picture book.

It wasn’t the type of sins that disgusted her. Humanity had lost its ability to surprise Lorelei thousands of years ago. There was no depravity she had not seen too many times to count. Instead, it was the sheer volume of them. Lies, lust, gluttony and greed; rage, envy, sloth and hate – his very existence was a blot on humanity, especially coming from one who had dared claim to speak with the voice of God. There was not the slightest flicker of a conscience behind those cold, dead eyes, not the barest hint that he had ever cared for another living soul in his entire life. All that mattered to him was money, power, and gross, sensual self-gratification. Whether it was food, sex, or simply the pleasure of crushing his enemies, there was no vice he had not rolled in like a dog on a rotting carcass.

Who the Hell am I? she purred. "That is a very appropriate question. No need to cloak herself with illusion; the man who had once held ravening thousands in his sweaty grip would only take her beauty as his due. But she had touched up her garments. It didn’t take much – a few inches here, a few inches there – to transform something that should have been quietly decorous into an ensemble that could have been ripped straight out of the fervid dreams of a pubescent boy. The wisps of her scarlet gown barely covered her thighs, and she let the upper curves of her breasts peek coyly out of the top. Where do you think you are?"

"How should I