Driving rain hammered at Roland's armour, as it had done for the last few days and nights. The dark sky roiled and boomed with deafening crashes of unrelenting thunder as angry forks of lightning stabbed down at the earth. Sleep had been a lost cause, even when he did manage to find a rocky outcropping or enough tree cover for him and his horse. He no longer knew how long it had been since the rain began, or whether it was even night or day.

"Easy, girl," he shouted over the storm, leaning forward to pat his destrier's neck. The beast had done well to put up with their misery as long as she had, but her patience was running thin.

As was his.

A particularly violent explosion of lightning illuminated a cracking, sputtering vision of the ridge ahead, outlining a squat heap of stone and timber crowning the overgrown rise. It wasn't the first sign of life he'd seen since the storm had begun, but his will to continue had been thoroughly abused these past few days. His duty to deliver word of the southern rebellion to his liege lord was nothing compared to his burning need to be dry for a night.

His gauntleted fist hammered on the heavy doors. Roland looked around the seemingly forlorn yard of what he had taken to be a monastery, hoping desperately that he hadn't unwittingly stumbled upon a cloister. He thumped on the doors once more.

"Is anyone there? Please, good brothers and sisters, open your doors for one of His Grace's house!"

Silence.

Bella blew out a noisy huff, unimpressed at the welcome after having lugged the forlorn knight all the way up the hill for nothing. Roland bit back a curse and tried one more time.

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PLEASE..."

The heavy iron latch clanged from within and one of the heavy oak slabs parted a few inches.

"Who goes?" came a soft voice.

"I am called Roland, I am a knight in service to..."

"A knight, eh?" the voice said. "Well I can't go letting you drown out here, can I?"

The door opened wider and Roland's eyes lit upon a bleary-eyed sister clutching at a sputtering candle, the heavy crucifix hanging around her neck confirming his suspicions. He realized with shame that she'd not taken the time to pull her habit on, and wondered if seeing a nun in her sleeping gown was a mortal sin or just a regular one.

"My horse?"

"You can bed the beast down here in the entry hall. The stable's roof is a sieve; she'd be no drier in there than in the yard."

Roland knuckled his forehead in thanks and led Bella into the whistling hall. The stable's roof wasn't the only thing in need of a bit of attention it seemed.

"Thank you, sister," Roland intoned. He used the excuse of unsaddling Bella to avoid looking at the half-dressed woman and her long, unplaited tresses of dark hair.

She smiled at him warmly, crossing her arms across her chest in what he took for modesty. Roland's cheeks flushed as he tried not to think about the way her breasts squished together under the thin fabric of her gown. He redoubled his efforts to finish with Bella's tack.

"Will you take something to eat? Or drink? There's still some warm soup and barley bread in the kitchen."

Roland's answer came by way of a painful grumble in his gut. "Thank you, yes."

"I'll stoke up the kitchen hearth then. It's just off to the left when you're finished here. I'm Delphine; call for me if you get lost."

Finishing swiftly, Roland followed his nose through the drafty halls to find Delphine humming softly to herself in the small kitchen, a muted fire warming the pot of leftovers at the far end of the room.

"Sit," she said, setting a cup and board out at the rough island for him.

He did as he was told. The fire's comfortable fingers kneaded into his sodden muscles slowly. Delphine busied herself around the kitchen, carving off a crusty end of bread for him to gnaw on while the soup bubbled away. The woman's quiet, warm presence was a balm to the despair that had steadily taken root in his heart. He was sure it had nothing to do with the fact that she was the first woman he'd seen in nearly a month.

"I am sorry, my lord, but there's no butter."

He startled, realizing he had been watching her hips sway back and forth as she worked. "No, no, think nothing of it. I've not had a bite in three days; I'm in no place to complain about your charity."

She smirked. "Be that as it may, I'm sorry it's a little bland. Nuns, you know; we're not exactly known for excess." She chuckled at the bemused expression he treated her to; Roland was quite sure he'd never heard a nun tell a joke before.

"No," he quipped, "I suppose not. Were more of my brethren like you, we'd not be so inclined to it either."

She feigned shock, setting a bowl of piping broth in front of him. "Good sir knight, do not tell me that the members of your noble order struggle with their honour!"

Roland shook his head, trying not to let on that he'd scalded his tongue on the first bite of soup. "You've heard of us then? I'm not sure whether I should be grateful or shamed to hear it."

"Oh I've no idea which gaggle you lay claim to, but I do know of your kind. Knights. Lords. All that."

"You would lay us all on the same pile, eh?"

Delphine sat back against the counter with a shrug. "For the most part. You seem like a decent fellow though; what did you say your name was?"

"Rolland de Vere," he replied. "I'm a knight at His Grace's court."

"No shit," she muttered in astonishment. Roland nearly spat his soup back into the bowl.

"Sister!"

"Oh shush," she said dismissively. "I'd not have given you the end of the loaf if I'd realized who you were."

"So you have heard of me then? That's something I guess."

"Sir, I don't think anyone in Christendom is liable not to know your name. Is it true what they say of your time in Antioch?"

He sniffled coarsely. "Not sure what they say of my time in Antioch, but it probably is."

"It's said that the Pope himself..."

"Not that part. That part's a tall tale."

Delphine chewed her lip. Roland's eyes stay fixed on his bowl.

"You're not what I expected," she said.

"And how should you have expected me? Hmm?"

She thought for a moment, tapping a finger against her lips. "I don't know. It's odd to see you here, in my kitchen, looking for all the world like a drowned, starved rat slurping at my leftovers. I thought you'd look...I don't know. Holier."

Holier. How might he have managed that?

"You wound me, sister. I thought I looked plenty holy covered in mud and dripping all over your abbey's doorstep."

She shrugged again. "Jest if you want. I guess maybe I jumped to conclusions. Accounts of your character do, after all, precede you."

"Many of which have been grossly overblown, I'm sure," he muttered, draining his bowl and scrubbing his hands over tired eyes.

"I doubt that. Tired though you are, I can tell you're a decent enough soul."

"And how can you tell a thing like that about a man's soul, eh?" he asked, pressing his palms into his eye sockets.

"Because," she replied, "I can see it."

Roland opened his eyes to ask what she meant and nearly fell off his chair in terror. What had moments before been the figure of an ordinary, if comely, nun had wholly transfigured into something else entirely. The creature before him now had crimson skin, enormous yellow eyes, pointed ears and a great set of bony horns sprouting from its head. The nightgown that had preserved Delphine's modesty was nowhere to be seen, and Roland fought to keep his eyes off the thing's naked, cherry-red tits.

"Back, devil!" he shouted, scrambling off the stool and clutching at his waist for the sword he'd left with Bella.

The thing that had worn Delphine's skin gave a throaty laugh. "Oh, come now, sir. There's no need for all that now."

Roland, back against the wall with a hand outstretched to ward her off, tried to blink the apparition away. "You're not real. This isn't real. None of this is. It can't be. Have I died and found myself in...in...am I in Hell?"

Delphine splayed a hand to her chest, looking offended. "No, you're not in Hell, idiot. You're in my kitchen." She took a step toward him.

"Stay back!"

"Relax, I'm not going to bite you. Unless you like that kind of thing, I guess."

"What?"

"Oh shit, don't tell me you're one of those sad sods who actually keeps their vows of chastity?"

Roland flushed, edging along the wall to maintain the distance between himself and the beast. "Hold your forked tongue, demon," he commanded. He wondered if a crucifix of his own might keep the thing at bay.

"Oh, you sweet thing," it chuckled, pacing towards him still. "It's not forked. See?"

Roland grimaced as they continued their cat and mouse game around the table, trying not to look at the thing's fleshy, over-long tongue unfolded out onto her chin. She moved with a sinuous grace that belied her foul nature entirely, all soft, rippling flesh and smooth, clean skin. He realized with a start that she wore Delphine's face still, albeit much redder and with larger eyes.

"What sorcery is this?" he demanded. Roland was certain the thing would tire of chasing him eventually and make a gruesome end of him, and he was loath to think that he'd die running.

Delphine drew close enough to put a hand on his tunicked chest. "No sorcery here," she said softly. "Just two lonely souls, cooped up and far from home." Her lips pressed at Roland's neck, just under his ear. The sensation was not altogether unpleasant.

"Get away from me," he moaned insincerely, feeling his trousers tighten as she cupped his face.

"That's enough of that," she chided between kisses. "It's just us here."

"The other sisters..." he protested.

"Dead some 200 years by now, so let's have a little less talking, shall we?"

Roland trembled in equal measures of fear and arousal as Delphine's hands roamed across his broad chest, torso, and down to the front of his britches. He swallowed hard and let himself play his own hand down her body. Fuck, but she was soft.

"Make you a deal," she whispered in his ear as she squeezed his manhood.

"Never," he groaned. He felt her smile against his cheek.

"Five minutes in my mouth. If you can restrain yourself for five minutes, I'll let you go from here."

"And if I fail?"

"Oh, darling, you know how these things work."

He imagined that he did know. "And how will you count your five minutes then?"

She stepped away from him and hung a heavy kettle over the blazing fire. "What do you think will blow first: you, or the kettle?"

Roland gulped.

The thing that was no longer Delphine swayed back over to him, all breathy and sensual in ways that he knew were unnatural. He winced as his eyes strayed to her hips and the soft tuft of black hair crowning her muff. She gave a lusty hum as his eyes roved over her lithe body.

"Like what you see, handsome?"

"Get on with it," Roland growled.

A hulking slab of a man, Roland dwarfed his impish captor entirely, but her unholy wiles had him rooted in place as surely as if she'd nailed his feet to the floorboards. Delphine sank to her knees in front of him, her yellow eyes throwing the fire's light back up at him as she plucked his trousers' laces.

"Oh, come on," she purred. "Don't pout. You'll like this, I promise. You know how I know?" Roland fixed her with a defiant scowl as she jerked his waistband down, letting his stiff cock flop free. "Because you're already hard!" she laughed.

Roland refused to watch himself slip between those perfect pink lips, but staring at the ceiling did nothing to diminish the wholly profane pleasure of Delphine's warm, wet mouth. Her hands roamed up under his shirt and he nearly cracked the edge of the wood counter in his white-knuckled grip.

"It's rude not to look a girl in the eye while she sucks your cock," she teased.

Roland clenched his jaw. "Shut up," he grunted.

"More fun if you shut me up yourself, but suit yourself."

The dewy, delicate warmth enveloped him again and his thighs twitched under the assault of Delphine's spongy tongue. Soft slurps, cracking embers, and his own hitching breaths filled the room as the driving downpour carried on outside. Roland begged the kettle to sound an end to his torment. He risked a look down and gave himself a fright to find Delphine already looking up, batting her long lashes slowly, with her nose pressed into his unkempt mess of pubic hair. She winked at him playfully.

"Fucking hellspawn," he moaned. Delphine replied by stroking him with her throat, bobbing back and forth on his last few inches with a coy little twist of her head each time she drove back down. Her affections drew fat beads of sweat from his every pore.

"Gahhh," she moaned, pumping his slimy rod in her fist as she scrubbed a forearm across her spitty lips. "And here I thought you'd be all pent up. Tell me the truth; you've cum recently, haven't you?"

"Using your hand wasn't part of the deal, beast."

"Blegh, you're no fun," she complained, squeezing him tighter and punching back and forth faster. Roland's toes curled in his boots. "You have to admit, though, my mouth felt good, didn't it?"

The knight knew that one of her ilk would choose duplicity if given the chance; the deal was her mouth. He wouldn't let her alter the pact.

"Fuck you," he spat, taking hold of the monster's horns coarsely and pulling her face down onto himself anew. Delphine squealed; Roland banished the thought that it was excitement rather than protest from her.

"Five minutes in your mouth, you said. The deal goes both ways!"

Muscles toned from years of crushing skulls and swinging blades hauled the demon's head down, and Roland used the bony reigns to pummel himself down Delphine's neck with a decidedly unvirtuous savagery. Tears welled in her eerie eyes, but still she watched something like rage contort the holy warrior's features, taking limitless delight in having finally broken the man's resolve. Delphine gurgled in the back of her throat perversely, letting her coughing 'GRKH GRKH GRKH's spur her lover ever onward.

Roaring adrenaline and a demon's belching gags masked the low whine of a hot copper kettle.

Gooey ropes of hot drool swung freely from Delphine's chin, slapping wetly against her bouncy little tits. The devious little devil smeared the stuff across her chest, relishing the slimy tickle as her hands massaged her own spit over sensitive nipples. She drew her knees together; the jostling punishment and welling dew between her legs made the buzzing friction on her sex feel divine.

The kettle began to whistle incipiently.

Roland's cock plunged on.

The kettle screeched.

He held her down, filling her gullet.

It screamed.

Delphine swallowed repeatedly, trying desperately to milk the seed from him before he noticed.

"Fuck!" he shouted, shoving her back onto the floor, and reaching into the fireplace to hurl the spouting pot across the room.

Delphine cackled maniacally as he hauled her off the floor, slammed her face-first onto the counter, and drove himself up into her tingling hole. Hands strong enough to pop heads wrapped around her waist with painful urgency. Roland utterly ruined her.

"Ohhhh fuck that dirty little hole you great, filthy man thing!" she urged. "Fuck me like you hate me!"

He palmed her head easily, pinning her to the board.

"Wretched fucking BEAST!" he roared.

Pigeon toed, weak in the knees, hole stretched, mind melted, teeth chattering, Delphine's unworldly body shuddered as she came, feeling the enraged crusader's balls slapping against her in staggering jolts of overstimulated bliss.

"Fuck," she whined, drooling freely. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. You HAVE to give me that cum. You owe it to me. Give it to me. Give it to meeeee!"

With a painful stab, Roland drove into her guts forcefully; Delphine's toes no longer touched the dusty flagstone floor as she was lifted bodily, impaled on his engorged, fleshy spear. Hot spurts of sinful cream flooded her womb as her eyelids fluttered and Roland grunted like a beast in heat.

"Yessss," she hissed. "Fuck yes! Hells, that's so good! Soooo fucking good!"

The pressure around her waist disappeared and Roland's head cracked off the stool behind them, shocking her out of her reverie. She realized too late that the starving, sleep-deprived human might not have been up to the challenge she'd set out for him. Blowing sweaty bangs out of her eyes, she stood over the unconscious lunk with an affectionate smirk, noting the slick sheen of cum on his cock with pride.

"Oh, you fucking oaf," she cooed. "Now you've done it." She idly popped a finger up her slit, sucking it clean as she pondered what to do with him. "Well, you're really not going anywhere with a split skull. Guess I'll just have to nurse you back to health myself then."