Mundane exorcism

Content warning : >!Ghost!<

Revenge is a dish best served cold, and whoever gets caught up in it aside from the primary target is an acceptable casualty, in this story, at least. This one is pretty niche, but I hope you'll enjoy it! Thank you for your time.

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Spirits, ghosts, apparitions : all sorts of horrid creatures appear where life was taken, and it’s your job to lay them to rest. Usually you know the circumstances of a wraith’s appearance, their death, some of their life, their likes and dislikes, but in cases such as the one you undertook, nothing was known but that the ghost was hostile and would attack on sight. The owner of the haunted estate, an avid collector who probably got his hands on a cursed artifact, did insist that a female priest would be better for the job, but as you were the only one available, he sent you off with a regretful smile and a promise to pray for your safety.

“*I’ll get to the bottom of this*,” you thought as you entered the expensive-looking mansion that was evacuated before your arrival. The eerie silence that enveloped you was all but uncommon, so you did your best to calm your heart with a short prayer, took out a holy sigil and marched on.

Your soft footsteps were all you could hear for a while until you entered the kitchen, wherein a faint crying that seemed to be coming from the walls themselves confirmed the presence of an otherworldly entity.

You examined your surroundings, trying to pinpoint the source of the anomaly. It came to your attention that the only utensils left in the room were blunt, allowing you to breathe a sigh of relief. Then again, a spirit which attacks indirectly rarely shows itself, leaving you to take an active role in seeking it out.

Failing to find anything at a glance, you took out a scroll and summoned forth a guiding light which directed you to a pristine wooden cupboard in the far corner of the room. At that point you already filtered out the crying as part of the background noise kept your senses sharp to whatever the ghost might try to do. As you crouched down to investigate further and find out what was so special about this piece of furniture which was empty save for a few plates, the rattling of metallic and wooden tools signalled the start of the attack, forcing you to get on the defensive.

Being cornered was far from ideal, but it was hardly something new for you. The fact that the spirit wasn’t strong enough to lift and toss you around like a ragdoll was already good enough. Running in robes was out of question so you stood your ground. Picking up the lid off of a nearby pot, you defended yourself from the flying flatware, doing your best not to get struck in the head while the intense noise of metal striking and grazing against metal assaulted your senses.

When the danger subsided, leaving your arm just a bit roughed up from the intensity of the ghost’s attacks, you used the brief window of opportunity created by the spirit exhausting their powers to get back to that cupboard. You crouched back down, your ears still ringing from the encounter, and started touching the far side of the cabinet, trying to figure out why the light guided you there.

**THUD-CRASH**

For a moment you were confused as to why you were lying face-first a pile of shattered wood, but as the pain started spreading across your body, you couldn’t help but release a misery-filled wail, which was followed by the ghost’s chirpy giggling. Looking back with great difficulty as tears started forming at the corners of your eyes, you noticed a rolling pin lying next to you. “You bastaaard!” you exclaimed as the agony peaked and you felt as if someone was trying to make a fine paste out of your balls. For a moment you thought that it was getting better but as you tried to collect yourself, you felt a phantom hand pass right through your clothes and grab onto your tender jewels. “Got you\~,” the crying stopped and a feminine whisper echoed throughout the kitchen.

A cold, ghastly feeling sent shivers down your spine and you started panicking as you understood the meaning behind the lord’s request. “*Need to hurry,*” you thought as you chanted words of divine, performing a close-range exorcism just to get whatever fiend was grasping at your vulnerable organs to back off. You were fast and from the previous experiences you witnessed the unbearable agony that resulted from such measures, but when you expected the ghost to retreat, it doubled down, clutching your plums with all it had. Even though its grip was hardly stronger than a human’s, it was more than enough for both of you to crowl in unison, each preoccupied with their own agony.

When you thought you would pass out if it went on for a second longer, the wraith finally fled, leaving you to cup your bruised balls. “*I should’ve learned blessings of mending,*” you sighed, but understood that regret would only buy the ghost more time to harm you more. Only then you noticed that when you crashed, the backside of the cupboard popped out, revealing a hidden passage.

You went through it and found yourself in a tunnel followed by a wide damp catacomb-like area with only your guiding light illuminating its walls. Carefully walking forward, you noticed the crying resume, much louder than before, but with no items to throw at you, it looked like the ghost was in no position to halt your advance. Following the flying spark, you had no trouble finding what you needed to, but you wish you didn’t. A perfectly preserved body of a young woman was lying on a table, different parts grafted onto it as “modifications”. And before you could even gasp in surprise, the door behind you swung shut with a startling metallic clank.

A feeling of imminent doom crossed your mind as the phantom tried to strike you from behind. You tried to dodge, but were too slow and your balls were caught between the fiend’s ice-cold leg and your pelvis. You could swear that the ghost you were fighting in the kitchen was weaker, but as you understood who it was linked to, the sudden spike in power didn’t feel as unreasonable.

Not being able to completely negate your fall, you were left on your knees and hands, but so long as you could will divine words to come out of your mouth, you still had power to fight back. For a moment you looked back and confirmed your suspicions, the ghost had the pretty much same appearance as the woman lying on the table aside from a couple differences, of course. She looked at you in disgust and was about to strike you again when you started chanting. Learning from her past encounter, she did not attack you directly, instead opting to use the various items scattered across the room. Your best bet was to try and exorcise her body, but she allowed you no such chance and, still in pain from having your balls kicked, your sluggish movements weren’t fast enough to dodge the wooden chair that knocked you out.

When you woke up, you found yourself tied and sitting uncomfortably on the very chair you were struck with. The main source of discomfort was the metallic tool that was fastened to it while you were unconscious : a vice, in which your bare ballsack was being firmly held in place, squished just a bit so you could feel your nuts being crushed.

The ghost of the woman was floating in front of you and even though you two started off the wrong foot, you couldn’t deny her appeal and neither could your member which, despite the testicular pain you were experiencing, stood at attention, startling her and earning you another contemptful gaze. ”You’re no different...” she scowled and turned the handle, moving the jaws closer. “You don’t need these. Neither do you need this pathetic piece of meat, I’ll get rid of it next. Then I’ll start adding more onto you. I’ll make you better! I’ll make you perfect!” her voice was distorted by an unearthly rage.

You knew that begging for mercy wouldn’t work. You also knew that the only way you could leave this place with your balls intact was to get rid of her before she could do any permanent damage and so you once again started chanting.

She hesitated for a bit, but as she carefully tried to turn the handle once more and was met with no resistance, she looked at you with a bright smile, as if catching onto your bluff. Your face twisted in agony as your plums were being mercilessly crushed between the vice’s jaws, and yet you continued chanting. “Sing your sermon as much as you want, it’s no use.” While one of her hands was busy operating the vice, the other was grasping her transparent chest.

**Click-click-click-crunch**

The mechanism worked perfectly, allowing her to safely destroy your manhood while your contact-based exorcism failed to do anything. Your chanting was almost completely consisting of high notes, such that you never knew you could achieve, but you kept going. “Don’t cry, it’ll be over soon,” she was pleasuring herself to your howling, even though you couldn’t see anything anymore, you could still hear the wet noises her hand made, “I think something already broke, but let’s keep going. Perfection requires sacrifice, after all.” you could almost hear the estate lord’s voice hidden within hers.

**Click-CLICK**

Your balls were as flat as pancakes, yet from the looks of it, she wanted to keep going. She even made a show of cracking her ghastly knuckles before going in for the kill, but by doing that, she bought you just enough time to finish the chant in a pain-laden screech. The very next moment a blinding light illuminated the room and the ghost was no more, yet your flattened balls were still trapped in the vice which you had to very carefully unwind, letting them painfully reinflate.

“R-rest easy… the Lord will pass judgement upon him...”