Satan's Sex Slave - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: In the Pale of Moonlight

Franklin Rodsberry sat in the back of The Lazy Cup smoking section, chessboard out and set up as if he were awaiting a challenger. The Cup, as it was called, always seemed quite different to the teenager during the day, when the warm sunlight of Michigan's springtime coursed through the back window and lit up the inside of the coffee shop with an orangish glow. Unlike nighttime, when the windows were open and the soft hum of the fans could be heard over the voices of the numerous clientele, daytime at The Cup was a quiet and empty affair. The windows were closed from the unusually hot April day. The two waitresses on duty during this slow shift were idling about looking for something to do. And there was silence, with no one to disturb the mechanisms churning deeply within young Franklin's head.

He stared at the game board before him, leaving the coffee he had ordered to cool upon the table, now long forgotten. Inside his mind Franklin was well into the game; White queen had taken the Black kingside bishop, leaving Black in the perilous position of having to defend against the White queenside rook, and a possible a forking maneuver from the approaching White knights.

A thousand possible moves ran through Franklin's head, until a smile formed on his lips. He realized the Pintowski Maneuver was perfect for such a situation. Now it was White on the defensive, and Franklin began hypothesizing about how best to counter the Black Pintowski.

"Rodsberry."

The voice disturbed Franklin's train of thought. Suddenly he could no longer remember whether the White rook was on rank four or five.

"Shit," he muttered underneath his breath.

The chair across from him was pulled out and Audrey, one of the waitresses, sat down. "Did I disturb you?" she asked unsympathetically.

Franklin studied the older woman. She was in her early twenties, a junior at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. Her root-colored light brown hair was thick and pulled back as per The Cup dress code, with several hairs out of place and hanging down over her roundish face. Her high cheek bones and long neck made her appear taller than she was, and her deep blue eyes peered through at him with their usual electrical intensity.

The teenager shrugged, reaching for his coffee and taking a sip before replying, "Just forgot where I was, is all." He added, "On the chessboard."

Audrey nodded, with a cigarette dangling between her lips. As she searched the pockets of her apron for a lighter, Franklin leaned across the table and lit it for her.

"Thank you," she mumbled, then took a long hit from the cigarette.

"Just get on?" Franklin asked, lighting himself a cigarette as well.

The waitress nodded. "Why don't you ever move the damned pieces? Wouldn't that make it easier?"

"Committing a piece before the game has been properly thought out isn't wise," Franklin responded with a dismissive gesture.

"You just hate commitment, don't you?" Audrey asked dryly.

Touché, Franklin thought. Grinning, he responded, "Yeah, something like that."

It had been six months since their brief love affair. Audrey had just begun working at The Lazy Cup, and the teenager had been immediately attracted to her womanly figure and sharp mind. Before too long they had ended up in bed together. After several encounters, Franklin had broken it off, leaving the waitress a little hurt and embarrassed. But excepting the occasional jibe he received from the attractive woman, she didn't hold much in the way of a grudge. They were, in fact, still friends.

"So," she began, blowing out a long puff of smoke, "did you hear about the fire?"

Franklin raised his thin black eyebrows over his cup of Mexican Coffee. "Hm? What fire?"

Audrey put out her cigarette in the ashtray. "I guess there was some kind of fire over in midtown the other day," she said. "Two kids were killed. You didn't hear?"

"No," Franklin replied flatly. He was now looking at her intently, as he was prone to do, studying her as if without words he could determine all the facts he needed. Stroking his small goatee with his left hand he asked, "I didn't see a paper yet today. What happened?"

"Oh my God," Audrey started. "I assumed you heard! The kids went to your school, I think they were seniors, too. The one was named Joe something... Joe Peer?"

"Joe Pierce?" Franklin offered.

"That's it! Did you know him?" she asked, voice full of concern.

Franklin nodded. "Knew of him. He kind of kept to himself, you know? Hung out with some guy named Craig, but neither ever came here or to the parties or anything. Joe was in my chemistry class last year, but we never talked."

A silence followed as Franklin considered. Once again his mind dug into the facts at hand, attempting to unravel the possibilities.

"Are you okay?" Audrey asked gently.

He looked up. "Yeah," he smiled. "It's a shock and all, but I didn't really know him."

"Okay," she nodded, a wary look in her expression.

"Do they know yet how the fire started?" Franklin asked.

Audrey shook her head. "I don't think so. They mentioned something about a gas leak, but details were sketchy."

Franklin looked up at the young woman once again. Sometimes he forgot she didn't come from Eastern City, that she didn't realize how things were handled by its authorities and young people. Had such a tragedy occurred in Saline where she came from, he figured, days of mourning would have passed over the deaths of two so young. In Eastern City, it didn't quite work that way.

"Expect a busy night," Franklin warned.

Audrey nodded. "Yeah? Well, good. We were dead last night."

"Everyone will be up here," Franklin continued. "From Churchill, that is."

"Because of Joe?" Audrey asked insightfully.

Franklin nodded.

"But I thought you said he wasn't very popular?"

Franklin shook his head. "Doesn't matter. This city's young people rally whenever such a thing happens. It's gonna be a dark night here at The Cup, Aud."

"Shit," Audrey stood. "I better get back to work, anyway. You gonna be here tonight?"

"I might," the teenager shrugged.

"Alright. Later," Audrey waved, heading around the corner, into the main room.

"Later," Franklin whispered.

Two more, he thought to himself. Quite interesting, indeed.

---

Jodie awoke well rested. She laid upon her thick, soft mattress, in her quaintly decorated bedroom. Sitting up, she stretched, feeling the sheets slide off her naked body and she smiled. Looking out the window, she saw it was going to be a beautiful day.

She made her way to the closet and rummaged around for awhile, the black Doberman wandered over from his resting place at the foot of her bed. "Shit," she muttered in annoyance. There wasn't one damn thing worth wearing in her entire wardrobe.

Resignedly she chose a light pink pullover shirt and pair of blue jeans. Throwing them neatly over her right arm she whistled softly as she headed towards the door.

"Stay," she told her familiar, who obeyed without complaint.

Walking down the hallway towards the bathroom, she could feel the new power she possessed flowing through her mind and body. She couldn't help but smile as she remembered the events of the previous night.

Upon reaching the bathroom she realized she had journeyed the entire way completely naked. "Oops!" she laughed.

I have to be more observant, she thought to herself.

After showering, she dressed before returning to her room. The smell of breakfast was wafting up from the kitchen on the first floor -- bacon and eggs, toast and coffee.

How typical, she thought.

She began looking through her belongings, the warm rays of morning's light streaming through her window. It was all as she remembered it, and yet different at the same time. Her beanbag, her pink phone with sparkling stickers, her posters of various rock bands hanging on the wall. Today, it all seemed so incredibly lame.

"That has got to go," she declared, staring at a crucifix that hung on her door. She grabbed it off of the hook and set it on a shelf her closet, upside down. "Much better."

She looked around the room again, a little happier, but still sickened by the pastel color-scheme. "Yuck," she muttered.

"JODIE!" came her mother's voice from the first floor. "BREAKFAST IS READY!"

The young witch rolled her eyes. "BE RIGHT THERE!" she called back, trying to sound like her normal self.

"Stay here and out of sight," she said to her new dog, petting him roughly behind its ear. "I'll be back soon."

She walked out of her room and descended the stairs to the foyer, looking around in disgust at the decor of her parent's house. She turned the corner, and then another corner, and then she was in the kitchen.

Her father was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper and drinking some coffee. Next to him sat her little sister, Michelle, who wore a pair of overalls and a light blue pullover shirt. Jodie's mom was at the stove, lifting sizzling bacon from a pan.

"Good morning, Daddy!" Jodie chirped, hugging him from behind and giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"'Morning, darling," he responded with a smile. "How was Julie's last night?"

"Hm? Oh, fine. I didn't spend the night though," Jodie responded.

"Did you leave your glasses at Julie's!" she heard her mom suddenly exclaim.

Shit, Jodie thought to herself. How could she explain that she no longer needed them? "Upstairs," she lied.

"Ok," her mom replied. "So, how was your night?"

"Oh, it was fine," she smiled.

Twenty minutes passed while she ate, during which time she grew frustrated at the way her family behaved. So nice to each other, so incredibly suburban. Michelle talked happily about going to the park to fly kites. Her dad talked about work, and how nice it was that the weekend had arrived. And her mom simply nodded at it all, and agreed with what was said, and made sure everyone enjoyed their breakfast.

Breakfast at the Dickinsons', Jodie thought darkly. How disgustingly cliché.

---

An hour later Jodie was at the mall, which was already crowded with consumers, lounging teenagers, old power-walkers, and shopping families. She knew from experience that the Eastern Mall, at noon on a Saturday, would be nightmarishly busy, but she had no choice.

After breakfast she had received a phone-call from Julie, who was in a tizzy after hearing the news about the fire at Joe's house. Jodie had forgotten that her friend knew she had gone out with him the previous night, and that she would subsequently be concerned and filled with questions. Thinking quickly, Jodie invited her to the mall to get lunch so they could talk.

The young witch mulled over the situation in her mind. I have to shut Julie up before she complicates things.

Leaving her new dog in the car, Jodie made her way through the parking lot, toward the statue of a giant eagle that stood outside the mall's J.C. Penny's store. Sitting on a bench, as expected, was her friend. Julie was quite attractive, Jodie had to admit.

Julie was about five-foot and eleven-inches tall, with shoulder-length jet black hair. Her most striking feature was her mouth, with full red lips that stretched out in a smile to reveal her glistening white teeth, perfectly straight and cared for. Julie's large blue eyes always matched the happiness of her smile. Her neck was perfectly proportioned for her medium-weight body, that featured large breasts. Julie always dressed smartly in short skirts and tight designer pullover shirts, or wore equally tight blue-jeans and stylishly patterned shirts.

Today she was wearing a short red skirt and a tight red-and-white patterned shirt. But she wasn't smiling. "Jodie!" she called, voice full of relief and concern. She looked like she had been crying.

Feigning grief as well, the witch ran over and hugged her friend, who began sobbing in her ear. Jodie found herself struggling not to roll her eyes.

"I thought..." Julie whimpered, "I thought you might have been there!" She hugged her friend tightly.

Jodie returned the hug warmly, then stepped back. "No, I wasn't," she said gravely. "Joe called me after I got home from school. He said he couldn't go out... I... I don't know why..."

Julie looked at her friend, her lower lip trembling. "Oh, Jodie!" she cried.

Again they hugged, but this time it took several minutes before Julie calmed down, during which time, unbeknownst to her, Jodie had cut off a lock of her friend's long black hair.

---

Later, Jodie whistled happily as she wandered through the mall. After talking with her friend about the travesty of Joe and Craig's deaths, for about twenty minutes over lunch, Jodie pretended she was too upset to hang out. With Julie finally convinced of the new story of Jodie's non-involvement, they said their goodbyes, and the two friends went to the parking lot.

Jodie, however, had things to do first. When she was sure her friend was gone, she had doubled back and now found herself going from store to store, looking for a new wardrobe. With each subsequent purchase, the young witch felt happier and more at ease. Finally she would be able to dress properly.

Inside a GAP store, in which she found nothing she wanted, she suddenly heard her name called from behind the register. "Jodie Dickinson!" came the baritone voice of the store's manager.

Oh shit, Jodie thought. Suddenly she remembered that this was where she worked. Not only that, she had been scheduled to work today.

Turning around she smiled innocently. "Yes, Mr. Larson?"

Mr. Larson was a large black man, about six feet tall and wide of frame, with a flat nose and square jaw. He was in his early thirties and was very cynical about his work, and life in general. Presently he was staring at Jodie with an angry look in his eyes.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" he demanded as he walked purposefully toward her, his bass voice booming. "You were supposed to work today. Noon 'til six, remember?"

Jodie brought up her eyebrows in a puppy-dog expression, and trembled her voice as she replied, "My... my friend died last night, Mr. Larson... I..." She began to cry.

Mr. Larson didn't seem moved, but the edge was gone from his tone. "Do you want to talk in my office?" he offered.

"Yes," Jodie sniffed.

She followed Mr. Larson into the back room, noticing that now Peter, a young gay man Jodie worked with, was the only one left behind the counter. She waved to him distractedly.

"So," Mr. Larson began upon reaching his office, "a friend of yours died."

Jodie sat down before his desk, but Mr. Larson remained standing. "That's right," she whimpered, voice full of pity. "There was a fire... two of my friends..."

"And you were so upset you couldn't come to work..." he asked sarcastically. "But you could go shopping?" He indicated her bags.

Shit, Jodie thought. Suddenly a smile came to her lips. To hell with it, she concluded.

"Yeah, that's right," she said aloud. She smiled. "You got me. Two people from my school really did die last night, but I didn't know them. Sorry."

Mr. Larson sighed heavily and leaned back on his desk. "Jodie, Jodie, Jodie," he muttered, rubbing his eyes wearily. "You really dropped the ball this time. I had to call in Pete to cover your shift."

Jodie continued smiling, looking up at her manager with her large, glistening eyes. "Mr. Larson... I'm so sorry!" she said slowly. "Maybe I can... make it up to you?"

That's when he felt it. Her small white hand was on his thigh, running up his thick leg towards his crotch. His eyes flickered in surprise as he stammered. "Jodie? What..."

"Shh," she cooed, sliding off the chair and onto her knees. Her left hand now covered the bulge in his pants, rubbing up and down over it as her right hand began tugging at his zipper.

Mr. Larson didn't move. He was unsure what to do. Part of him knew he had to stop her, he was her boss and she was an employee. But at the same time, she had initiated this, and she was attractive and young, and vibrant. Could he get away with it? It was all happening so quickly.

When the zipper was undone, she quickly unbuttoned his pants. Then she easily pulled them, along with his boxers, down past his knees, exposing his dark thighs and freeing his long, dark cock for her to see. She looked up at his eyes and licked her lips.

She cooed, "Can I make it up to you, Mr. Larson?"

He was still paralyzed with decision-making and didn't know what to say or what to do.

Then he felt the wonderful sensation of his penis entering the teenager's hot, wet mouth. Her soft, hot tongue cradled the head and he watched her lips close around it. He heard a man groan out loud, and then realized that it was himself. He felt his member quickly stiffen, and twitch against her lips.

His penis was nearly too large for her mouth. She kept her mouth open wide as she moved her face forward, taking the dark organ to the back of her mouth. She reached up and grasped the base of the black penis with pale  left hand, and her right hand cupped the hairy, black scrotum.

"Jo-Jodie," she heard him moan.

Had the cock not been in her mouth she would have smiled. Men, she thought.

At the same time however, the young witch felt herself growing aroused. This was the first penis she had ever had in her mouth; it was so soft on the outside and hard on the inside, the fleshy skin now slick with her saliva. She began to increase the tempo of her ministrations, sucking the penis to the back of her mouth, and then pulling it out until her lips caught the ridge at the back of the head. She slid her tongue underneath the length of it the whole time.

She felt his hands on the back of her head now, pressing into her soft red hair. He was guiding her head back and forth as she continued to orally pleasure him. Jodie could feel his muscled legs trembling, his body leaning back harder on the desk.

Suddenly, when only the head was in her mouth, she felt his hands tighten preventing her from taking his penis deep into her mouth again.

He pushed her head back and pulled his cock out of her mouth. A thick strand of saliva connected her lips to the wet, black head of his penis, before hanging limply and then splattering on his bunched around his knees. Mr. Larson grabbed Jodie roughly by the shoulders, lifting her off the ground and pulling her to her feet. She was helpless in his tight grasp. He held her in front of him, looking her hard in the eyes, his gaze of lust. She continued smiling.

He seemed to make a decision at that point. Without hesitation he spun around, so that now she was the one pressed against the desk. With a flurry of his hands, she found herself with her back to him, having been twisted around easily by the strong man.

Without a word he pressed her shoulders forward, forcing her to bend over until her sizeable chest was squashed against the top of the desk. Her arms laid sprawled helplessly in front of her and she grabbed the other end of the desk. Her face was turned and her left cheek pressed onto a pencil which had been laying there. She was unable to move, except to squirm her hips at her manager.

Next she felt her pants being roughly pulled down. She hadn't worn panties, and could feel the cool air of the office on her damp crotch. She grew more excited as she realized that her manager was getting a good view of her young ass and pussy.

"Yes!" she hissed. "Fuck me, Mr. Larson!"

There was no verbal response. Instead she felt a bulbous object being pressed against her tight slit from behind. He was no longer pressing down on her, but instead his hot hand was gripping her waist as he struggled to keep her in place to receive his cock.

"Ugh!" her manager grunted in exertion. She was tight, and although her pussy was incredibly damp, it was slow going to get his member inside her.

Jodie could feel his penis pressing slowing into her and she panted in pain from the large cock penetrating her body. Her feet no longer touched the floor, and her knees were spread far apart as she tried to give an easier opening for her manager to fuck. It did little good, so she lifted her chest up and used her forearms and elbows on the desk to push back her body, so that now all her weight was on her belly and pelvis.

"OH!" she cried as she felt another inch of the mighty cock push into her wet vagina. She could feel herself quickly building towards orgasm as Mr. Larson's shaft ran across her clit with every new inch pressed into her.

He stopped pushing for a moment, catching his breath. She sure was tight, he thought to himself. He looked down at her pussy and pulled a couple inches out of her, seeing her labia clasping his wet, black shaft. Then he pushed in again, finally forcing two-thirds of his ten inch dick inside the teenager.

"AH!!!" Jodie squealed at the sensation of her cunt filled with her first real penis. She could feel the organ kissing the back of her vagina. It felt like her manager's cock was all the way up into her belly, just like the way her dog's penis felt yesterday.

Jodie's knees shook as her upper body remained immobile, using her elbows to push back against Mr. Larson. He moved both hands to her butt now, his large black hands squeezing her firm, round ass cheeks, and he began fucking her in earnest now. With each thrust, his black cock pulled out, shiny with her wetness, and then pushed into her slit again.

She moaned in pleasure, as orgasmic waves flowed throughout her body. She climaxed, coating his shaft with her cream, and her nipples felt so stiff they hurt. Mr. Larson's cock was relentless, though, fucking in and out of her tight cunt from behind, his big hands pulling her back against him with each thrust he made into her. Her manager's cock was thicker than her dog's penis, and he was more strategic with his thrusting.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Jodie panted.

She could feel his scrotum slap against her clit with every thrust. Jodie bit her lower lip and felt another orgasm cause her hips to quiver. Unrelenting, the cock speared into her pussy, then pulling back, in and out, over and over. Without warning, Mr. Larson suddenly stopped thrusting, and held his cock deep inside her. She felt his black shaft twitch and then her tunnel was filled with liquid heat.

"Ohhh!" He grunted, and his cock throbbed inside Jodie again.

The hot, wet sensation in her pussy was similar to when her canine familiar filled her. But this was her first real cock, a real man cumming between her legs. My virginity has been taken again, she thought, but differently. The experience jolted Jodie into another climax. Their combined moans and grunts were in unison this time. She felt Mr. Larson's cock twitch two more times, spurting all of his cum into the teenager. Finally he was finished. Jodie felt his softening cock withdraw, leaving an emptiness within her belly.

He pulled his shrinking cock out of her, his black penis wet with her cream and streaked white with his seed. A sticky glob of the warm cum dangled from her gaping hole before falling into the crotch of her pants bunched around her ankles, joining with others to create a dark stain. He tucked his penis into his boxers and pulled up his pants before collapsing backwards into the chair Jodie had been sitting in earlier.

Jodie rested for a moment, a wicked grin on her face. Then she slid back off the desk and shuffled to turn around, with her pants around her ankles. She stepped out of her pants, leaving the bundle between her feet, and looked down at her boss, whose eyes didn't meet hers. Then she bent over and reached into one of her shopping bags.

"Don't mind if I change now, do you?" she asked sardonically.

He didn't reply, but scooted the chair back a bit to give the teenager more room. He watched as Jodie pulled off her pink shirt and leaned back, naked against the desk.

She spread her knees and hunched over, using the shirt to wipe the sloppy cum from her crotch and inner thighs as best she could. She tossed the wet shirt into the cum-stained crotch of her discarded pants before rolling the garments into a ball. Next she reached into one of the bags and took out a red velvet bra and panties that she put on. Finally she lifted a sheer, black mini dress from the bag, and pulled it down tightly over her body. She stuffed her soiled clothes into the empty shopping bag.

"How do I look?" she smiled.

Mr. Larson didn't respond.

"Oh, Mr. Larson," Jodie pouted, "you don't feel guilty or anything, do you?"

He sighed, shaking his head slowly. "I just... I just don't know how we can work together now."

"Don't worry about that," Jodie smiled again. She bent over and wrapped her arms around her manager's neck. She whipped her hair over her right shoulder then leaned close to his ear. She whispered, "I quit!" She grinned and jumped back.

Jodie gathered up her bags, and turned before she opened the door. She blew him a kiss and watched the confused look on his face as she left.

---

"There you are!" Mrs. Dickinson exclaimed as soon as Jodie walked in the door. "Where have you...,"

She stopped in mid-sentence when she saw the way her daughter was dressed. Never before had she seen Jodie dress so provocatively. Her long red hair wasn't braided, but flowed down past shoulders wildly. She was wearing a tight, sheer black mini dress, which ended scant inches past her hips, through which her dark red underwear could be seen. It was quite enough to give the Catholic woman a heart attack.

"I was at the mall," Jodie smiled to her mother. "After I had lunch with Julie, I went and got contacts... neat, huh?"

"Contacts?" her mother muttered. "Did a little shopping, too?"

"Yeah!" Jodie said proudly. Spinning around she asked, "How do I look?"

"Jodie Catherine Dickinson," her mother scolded. "You wore that in public?!?"

"Yeah," Jodie replied. "What's wrong?" She was having fun. She had known that once her mother saw her she'd flip out, and had been right.

"You're not to go out dressed like that again!" her mother cried. "What has gotten into you?"

Jodie rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she murmured. Waving off the remark, she brushed past her mother and went up the stairs, shopping bags in toe.

"Jodie!" he mom called. "Your boss called! You didn't show up at work!"

"I know," Jodie replied annoyingly. "I quit."

"What!?!" her mother called. "Jodie!"

The teenage witch slammed her door close, then sighed in annoyance. What a bitch, she thought.

"She's right, you know," Jodie heard her little sister behind her, and spun around.

Her younger sister, was sitting on the edge of Jodie's bed, her long strawberry blond hair framing her soft, sixteen year old face.

"What are you doing in here?!?" Jodie demanded.

The younger sister shrugged. "Dunno. Was waiting for you to get home."

Jodie frowned. How cute, she thought in disgust.

"You look like a prostitute," Michelle said simply.

Jodie raised her eyebrows. "What do you know?" she snapped. "Get out of my room!"

"Fine," Michelle responded in annoyance. "Be a bitch." The younger sister walked to the door.

Jodie almost laughed at that. "Watch your mouth," she called after her sister as she exited the room.

After unpacking her new clothes, an idea came to the young witch, making her smile. She had planned on taking care of Julie later, but perhaps now she could kill two birds with one stone. She left the bedroom and walked down the hallway to the bathroom. After closing the door behind her she rummaged around for a minute before finding what she was looking for.

The hairbrush was obviously Michelle's, as she was the only blond in the family and the light-colored hairs were all over it. Jodie grabbed a couple of long strands and headed back to her bedroom.

So easy, she thought to herself. So incredibly easy.

---

Being a small Detroit suburb, Eastern City had little in the way of actual forests. Since long before its statehood had become official, a profitable commodity in Michigan was lumber. Subsequently, with every new settlement, the first victims were the trees cleared away for farmland, cleared away for roads, and cleared away for sale.

When Eastern City was officially founded fifty years after Michigan's formal birth, there was already a severe shortage of the once rich forests which had covered the Great Lake State. With every newcomer to what was known in those times as the Village Eastwood, more trees were sacrificed to erect house, stores, and other such buildings. By the time the mines in the north were opened and rock became more affordable, it was too late for what would one day be Eastern City. Its forests had been diminished well past any hope of recovery.

And so Jodie found herself walking through one of the rare forests within the city. There were two such forests -- one located on the industrial end of town near a large field, and the other behind the large city library. Jodie was in the latter of the two. It wasn't a true forest, of course, as the trees were young and sparse. It would have to do, as there was no other grove nearby, without driving for an hour. The park behind the library was several kilometers long and several kilometers wide. Once inside the park you could not the road traffic and could not be seen, which provided Jodie the privacy she needed. And traditionally, such rituals took place in a forest. 

After wandering around for about ten minutes with her canine familiar, Jodie picked a spot and began raking away leaves to create a clearing. Gathering up as much brittle tinder and dry wood she could find, she built a small fire and tended to it until it was sustained with the larger branches of wood.

Looking over to her familiar she smiled. This ritual was a simple one, she knew, but she was excited nonetheless. It was a chance to try out one of her new powers.

Standing in front of the flames she began chanting out words from an ancient language. It had been the language of Lucifer himself when he had first fallen to the earth with his angels. It was the same language used by his servants throughout history. Their very utterance caused the flames to grow and dance, and an unnatural breeze tossed the leaves around the clearing.

Finally, there was a burst of sparks from the fire, followed by a gout of black smoke.

"Unatour," she called into the billowing black smoke. "UNATOUR!"

Suddenly the smoke cleared and the flames reduced to their normal size and a thick purple mist hovered above the fire. Within the mist she could make out the features of the demon's head she had summoned; it's dark burning eyes in slits against the leathery black skin, horns nine inches long protruding from its skull.

"Dickinson, Jodie," the demon entombed. "Why do you summon me?"

"What is your name!" Jodie demanded.

The demon laughed, a deep and menacing sound. "Your pact is but a day old and you already make demands?"

"Your NAME!" Jodie yelled. Instinctively she knew that the demon would resist responding. But she also knew that, ultimately, he had no choice.

The demon seemed to consider, and finally responded, "I am the one known as Oneg."

Jodie nodded in satisfaction. Names were powerful things when it came to demons. "Oneg the Unatour, I have need of you."

"What does my mistress require?" the demon asked.

Jodie didn't respond. Instead she produced from her purse a clump of hair with different colors, and tossed it into the fire. The hair shriveled up and burned away immediately.

"Ah," the demon nodded. "Florence, Julie and Dickinson, Michelle. What would you have me do with them?"

"You will summon me an incubus," Jodie said simply. "And send it to my sister tonight."

"This I can do," the demon responded. "As could you. But this is not all you require of Oneg?"

"No," Jodie replied. "The incubus you send to Michelle must make sure she likes it; she's to become enamored with the feeling it must give her. And then," Jodie smiled. "I'll require you to begin the Nash Reci on Julie."

The demon's tight black skin pulled up over its teeth in what Jodie decided was his way of smiling. "And after that is complete, when will you take me into your realm?"

The Unatour were powerful demons. Using Oneg to summon forth the incubus Jodie required not only saved time, but assured accuracy. He would also be able to carry out the Nash Reci on Julie, something that was outside the realm of Jodie's powers. All this, though, carried a price. Eventually, in return, she would have to bring Oneg out of his plane and into hers.

"If you are successful," Jodie replied, "then on the next full moon I will perform the ritual and bring you across."

The demon smiled again. "Very well, Dickinson, Jodie. Our pact is then sealed."

The demon's head faded into the purple mist, and then the mist disappeared.

Jodie smiled. She reasoned it was a small price to pay to begin corrupting her house, and destroying her dear friend Julie.

---

Franklin pulled into The Lazy Cup parking lot an hour after sunset. After leaving the Cup earlier, he'd spent the rest of the day learning as much as he could about the fire that had claimed the lives of Joe Pierce and Craig Johnson. He hadn't learned much, as the fire department had yet to release findings on the exact cause of the fire, but preliminary information suggested a gas leak had been responsible. Franklin found it all very fascinating.

He lived in High Town, the section of Eastern City known for its extravagant homes and wealthy citizens. His father was an accomplished neuro-surgeon, well respected for his expertise in cutting-edge procedures involving the most delicate parts of the human brain. His mother was a poet, whose work was rarely published, but highly regarded in the arts community. Together they had in a sizeable income, allowing them and their only child a lavish lifestyle.

Franklin thought little of monetary wealth, however. He had always been drawn towards the inner workings of the spirit and mind. Studying human behavior through observation, literature, and music, the senior at Churchill High had learned much about what drives the human soul. He found it very intriguing subject matter. And there was something about the deaths of Joe and Craig that didn't sit right with him.

Currently, however, he found himself driving in circles around the Cup's parking lot, looking for a space to park his brand new car. As he had predicted, the Cup was busy. He could see groups of teenagers standing around the lot, probably because the inside was full.

Finally he found a spot and parked. He got out of the car and headed towards the entrance, his thin black trench coat blowing about in the wind as he went. At five-feet and ten-inches height, he wasn't very imposing, nor did he attempt to be. He was a medium-built young man with a youthful body toned by daily running. His brown hair was currently bleached white, short and straw-like in appearance. He wore thin wire-frame glasses in front of thoughtful gray eyes, and a short goatee that he left its natural brown.

"Hey, what's up man!"  Someone called out from the first group of teenagers he passed. They consisted of a mixture of juniors and sophomores, male and female gathered around a parked sedan.

"Hey," Franklin acknowledged them, and kept on moving. He was fairly popular at school across all the social lines: geeks, stoners, preppies, jocks, and was friendly with them all. He was well known at Churchill High, though he rarely attended his senior year, as his grades were so outstanding he was able to skip most classes and still be assured to graduate in the following month.

The crowd grew thicker as he got closer to the coffee house. He nodded to those he knew, greeting them in passing as he looked for someone in particular. Finally he spotted his old friend, Alex Kelbite.

"Alex," Franklin greeted his friend, thrusting out his hand.

Alex took it and gave it a firm shake. "How ya been, man?"

"Pretty good," Franklin responded. He looked around the crowd.

"Been like this all night?"

"Yeah," Alex sniffed. "Pretty much. The jocks just started showing up, though. Where've you been?"

"Home," Franklin responded. "Working on some shit. Wanna get outta here for a few?"

Alex grinned. "Of course... just let me tell Sarah and we can split."

Franklin nodded. Sarah Fletcher was Alex's girlfriend. She was a poor student, but a wonderful actor who'd been with Alex for nearly three years now.

Franklin watched his friend disappear into the crowd, and found himself chatting with an acquaintance while he waited. Eventually his friend returned, smiling stupidly under his purple shades, which he wore despite the darkness.

Without a word, Alex followed Franklin to his parked car and climbed in. With the door closed, Franklin looked over to his friend. "Heard about Joe and Craig?" he asked.

Alex nodded. "Yeah," he muttered and watched Franklin pull a joint from his cigarette pack. After taking it from his friend he continued, "Good riddance."

They didn't talk again for the next ten minutes, while they shared the joint. Even then, the silence continued as each clammed in the car, each lost in their own deep thoughts.

Finally, Franklin said, "Let's get back."

"Mmm," Alex muttered.

They piled out of the car and walked in a marijuana-induced daze back to the Cup.

"What did you mean, good riddance?" Franklin finally asked.

Alex laughed, that coarse stoner laugh so frequently heard after a joint is smoked. "I don't know man! They were total squares... freaky, too! Fuck 'em!"

Franklin nodded. Suddenly he stopped walking. "Who is that!" he pointed with his chin.

Alex followed his friend's gaze to a group of three people. Two of them were seniors he recognized, both male. He knew, however, that it was the third Franklin was referring to.

"That, my friend," he smiled, draping his arm over Franklin's shoulders, "is Jodie Dickinson, the junior, the red-head. Remember?"

Franklin studied her. Sure enough, it was Jodie. "She looks different," he observed.

Alex shrugged. "She's not wearing glasses. You wanna come inside? Sarah has a seat, we could squeeze you in..."

"No, that's okay," Franklin muttered. "I need the air."

"Suit yourself," Alex responded. He wandered away from his friend towards the Cup's back entrance.

Franklin continued studying Jodie Dickinson. It wasn't just her glasses, he noticed, that was different. It was her clothes as well, and the way she was carrying herself. Franklin remembered her as a shy transfer student, unsocial and incredibly nervous. Now though she seemed gregarious and very comfortable in the crowd. She even appeared to be flirting with the guys she was talking with

Not taking his gaze off her, Franklin wandered to a light post and, leaning against it, lit up a cigarette. Although stoned, the significance of Jodie's change didn't escape him.

She's not stumbling like she was drunk or on drugs. Something must have happened to her, he decided.

He lost track of the red-head when a few of his friends came over to chat. They were looking for drugs, but he had none to sell. After a short conversation they went on their way. Replacing them was Jodie Dickinson.

"Hi," she said. She was standing tall and confidant in her sheer black mini-dress, looking Franklin directly in the eye, a slight smile on her thin pink lips.

"Hey," he responded.

"I need something," she declared, taking a step closer to him and lowering her voice. "Drugs, I mean."

"Why me?" he asked cautiously.

There was something about her tone, her mannerisms, that made him nervous. She was incredibly attractive, and experience had taught the young man that such women were not to be trusted. Especially the kind that change demeanor and personality overnight.

Jodie smiled. "I was told you were the guy to talk to."

A moment of silence passed as Franklin pondered that. It was true, around the Cup he was the guy people went to for their drugs. But wasn't Jodie a religious Catholic girl?

"I don't have anything left," he finally said. "Fresh out."

"But you can get some?" Jodie continued, took another step closer to Franklin. He could feel her body heat now. Her voice was low and sweet, "Or... tell me how I can get them?"

Franklin suddenly made up his mind. She was acting fishy and was not to be trusted. Flicking away his cigarette he replied, "Nope. You'll have to find someone else."

She didn't budge. "How disappointing," she said. "Very well." Then she turned and walked away.

Definitely can't be trusted, Franklin thought. He headed inside The Lazy Cup.

---

Julie Florence awoke with a start.

She was drenched in sweat, her thin nightgown sticking to her body as she breathed a sigh of relief. A nightmare, she thought.

It had been a bad one. She was stuck inside a house that was burning to the ground. She had seen her mother and father screaming and begging for help, but there had been nothing she could do. Helplessly, she'd screamed, and that is when she woke up.

She laughed nervously at the memory. Looking to her night stand she saw that it was only one o'clock n the morning. Gotta get some sleep! she thought to herself.

Sighing, she realized she was shaken, and full of energy now. She climbed out of bed and tip-toed down the stairs to fix herself a snack. Hopefully that would calm her nerves enough to let her go back to sleep.

It had been a rough day for young Julie. The deaths of Craig and Joe had effected her more than she would have expected. Perhaps it was because it was someone so close to her age, or maybe because two days before she had been bashing them to her friend Jodie. Guilt, she knew, often followed grief, after someone died.

Shaking it off, she made her way to the kitchen. The house was quiet, with only the sound of her cats padding about. She smiled when she spotted her Siamese following her to the fridge, expecting to get fed.

"Nothing for you," she declared to her cat. "I'm getting human food."

The pet seemed to consider that as it looked up at her expectantly.

"Julie," came a voice.

The seventeen year old froze. Suddenly she was scared again, as she had been in her dream. There was someone in the kitchen, she could sense it was not her cat and not someone she knew. Without moving a muscle her eyes darted about the kitchen, using the light from the open refrigerator to dimly illuminate the shadows as she looked for a thief or a murderer or...

"Julie," called the voice again.

There was something different about it this time, though. Something about it she recognized, as if she'd heard it before. She felt her eyes drawn to the open window above the kitchen sink. The voice had come from outside, she realized, a soft sound on the wind as if someone was calling her from the backyard. Heart pounding, she quietly closed the refrigerator door, plunging the room into darkness once more.

Gingerly she stepped forward, noticing that her cat had darted away. She quietly stepped around the counter and past the kitchen table. She stopped in front of the sliding glass door and peered through it, searching the dark backyard for... what?

This is silly, she thought to herself. Almost grinning in relief, she exhaled and began to calm down. There was no voice, she decided, just an overactive imagination.

And yet...

"Aw hell," she said aloud, unlocking the door and sliding it open.

It was a chilly spring night and her thin night robe offered little protection against the cold which blew in through the open door. She poked her head out and glanced around the backyard.

Still nothing.

Glancing back over her shoulder she saw the glowing green numbers of her microwave's clock reminding her how late it was.

"Julie," came the voice once again, louder and definitely coming from the backyard.

"Who's there!" Julie called into the night, her heart rate increasing.

Then she saw it. At the end of her yard, past her deck and past the grass, was a figure standing inside the fence. There was little moonlight for which to see by, but Julie could make out the outline of what appeared to be a man.

While keeping her eyes on the unmoving figure, she fumbled nervously for the deck light, but couldn't find it. He seemed familiar, she realized, though she couldn't tell who he was.

"Who are you!" she called out to it, voice cracking in fear.

There came no response.

Suddenly the man burst into flame, and now she could see his face. It was Joe Pierce, a guy she despised, and was supposed to be dead! She could see his sunken eyes staring at her as his skin began to melt.

Julie screamed, falling backwards into the house...

And into the arms of someone.

"JULIE!"

She was in a complete panic now. She continued screaming, averting her eyes from the outside and the figure that was burning there, struggling to break free from the person holding her. Suddenly she felt herself being shook earnestly.

"JULIE!!!" called the person behind her once more. "CALM DOWN!" She recognized the voice was her father. She spun around and hugged him, sobbing piteously as she stammered, "He's out there, he's out there, burning...!!!"

"Who's out there Julie?" her father asked concernedly. "I don't see anyone!"

"In the flames!!!" Julie screeched. "He's burning!!!"

"Julie, there's no one out there!" her father assured her. "Look for yourself!"

Not wanting to look again upon the horror that she knew was standing at the back of her yard, Julie kept her face buried against her father's shoulder. But he turned her around, almost forcibly, so that she couldn't help but stare out into the night.

It was gone.

"But," the teenager stammered. "I saw..."

Her father rubbed his daughter's shoulders. "You've had a nightmare, hon. Let's get you back to bed."

In a daze she felt her father lead her through the kitchen to the stairs, and eventually back up to her bed. But she wouldn't let him leave her side.

Even after she stopped crying, she remained unresponsive, unwilling to let go of her father's hand which she held onto tightly. Resigned to the situation, her father stayed up with her the rest of the night, never saying a word as he wondered what it was exactly Julie thought she had seen.

---

Michelle Dickinson lay in her comfortable bed with her reading light on, flipping through an issue of Sassy magazine. It was only ten o' clock, which meant bedtime to her parents, though she was nowhere near tired enough to sleep.

She glanced guiltily to her night stand, then shook her head.

No, she thought. Not tonight.

At sixteen, Michelle was mature for her age. But maturity couldn't make up for the lack of experience in a teenager. In her youthful innocence, what she had been doing the past six months was wrong. Every month during confession she was forced to do at least ten Our Father's and twenty Hail Marry's in repentance, and for awhile afterwards she'd be good. And then the feelings would start welling up inside her again.

It was something she couldn't share with her plethora of friends, the masturbation, that is. Six months before, she had done it for the first time, and it had felt so good she had done it every day. But then she heard someone at church mention how sinful it was for one to touch one's self, and suddenly she began having second thoughts.

She'd known for a long time, of course, what sex was, and why God had given it to humankind. And that one shouldn't do it until marriage. She accepted that. She'd never had a boyfriend, although several guys at her co-ed Catholic school had asked her out before, nor had she ever kissed anyone. And although a lot of her fellow students were doing with each other, she wasn't jealous.

On the surface, she acted as she was supposed to -- as an innocent, good-natured, soft-spoken child of God. Inside, however, was a different story. She often had dirty thoughts involving men, usually after she caught one staring at her body when she wore tight clothes or a swimsuit. Sometimes she even dressed that way on purpose, and would turn to show off her tight butt when she saw a guy staring. She knew it was wrong, but it brought up feelings in her that felt so good, so naughty, so...

Suddenly the feeling began creeping up on her again. She remembered last week in gym class, when she was walking out of the girl's locker room in her tight red one-piece bathing suit. Her long blonde hair had been pulled back in a ponytail that day, revealing her neck and slight shoulders. Almost immediately she could feel the gym teacher, Mr. Lorski, staring at her. She had pretended not to notice, and had trembled in excitement when she bent over ever so casually at the waist, while she slowly put down her towel. After standing up she had glanced over her shoulder and noticed Mr. Lorski's staring at her, then suddenly dart away as if embarrassed.

That had been fun.

And she got those kind of stares all the time from grown men, older teenage guys, and boys in her own grade. And always they filled her with the same guilty excitement, knowing that these guys were picturing her naked in their minds, mentally staring at her teenage breasts and the curves of her young body.

She sighed. Just thinking about it was bringing up the guilty feelings. Again she glanced over at her night stand, this time unable to tear her eyes away.

Fuck it, she suddenly thought to herself.

That was the other thing she kept secret from her parents and teachers -- her dirty mouth. But the words she was capable of spewing in front of her friends were nothing in comparison to what she reached for in her night stand.

Under a stack of magazines, a bible, and a photo-album of her family's vacation to the nation's capitol last year, lay a group of magazine pages. She had gotten them from a guy at school who had only brought them on a dare. After all her friends looked at them and grossed out, they were discarded in a waste basket. But young Michelle had been unable to resist going back later and digging them out.

There were three pages from an adult magazine. Michelle knew they were dirty, and several times she had attempted to throw them out, but had never been able to make herself go through with it. And every time she started feeling this way -- the racing heart, the trembling lower lip, the tingling sensation emanating from her nipples, she would pull them out and study them, and masturbate.

The first page had a picture of a young woman, not much older than her sister, naked from the waist up, and posing for a grinning man. The second page showed the same woman on her knees between the grinning guy's legs, and his penis was inside her mouth. Michelle had heard this described as a 'blow job'. The third page, and Michelle's favorite, showed the woman on her back and the man leaning over her, his penis disappearing between her legs. There was a look of pleasure on the woman's face in this last picture, a look that Michelle felt when she would finger herself.

Tentatively Michelle slid her right hand under her sheets and began to slowly pull up her thin nightgown. She squirmed her butt until she pulled the material up to her neck, exposing her pert breasts, then she pushed down her pink panties and squirmed her legs until they were around her ankles. After kicking them off she slid her feet apart and spread her legs.

She sighed contentedly. At this moment the guilt was gone, replaced only by lust as she stared at the third picture. In her mind she pretended she was the woman laying on her back, and the man was on top of her, his penis pressed into the slit of her pussy...

"Mmm!" she moaned quietly as she cupped her palm over her golden-haired mound. Then she slid her index finger up and down her slit and over her clit, which sent sparks of pleasure rippling through her body. Slowly she pressed her index finger inside herself. She was already damp, and it slid in easily.

Dropping the pictures from her other hand, she closed her eyes. A smile curled her lips as she concentrated her ministrations. The faint aroma of her arousal wafted up to her nostrils, exciting her all the more as she drew her finger out and then plunged it deeper inside her tight hole once again, this time to the second knuckle.

She began sliding it in and out of her body now, in and out, using her thumb to gently massage her clit. The feeling of her tight cunnie-hole being penetrated always made her body tingle all over, especially her breasts. Using her left hand she began to pull on the puffy pink nipple that sat atop her pert breast.

She squirmed her butt back as she pulled her finger out, then hunched her hips forward as she dipped her finger inside again. She felt her belly and chest heat up and her heart race, as she sighed continuously in pleasure. Soon she was squeezing more roughly on her puffy nipple and pulling it, reveling in the increased pleasure it brought her. A soft suckling sound from between her legs was the only other noise in the room as her finger continued fucking in and out of her young pussy.

And then suddenly Michelle became aware of another presence in the room, as if someone were watching her. Closing her mouth, she opened her eyes, and froze. Her finger was still buried inside her hole and her hand covered her pert breasts, but she was no longer moving.

There was silence.

"Hello," she heard a deep male voice.

She gasped in embarrassment and fear, pulling her finger out from herself and pulling her sheets up to cover her body. She snapped her attention to her left and saw someone sitting in the chair at her study desk, or something.

She'd never seen anyone like him before. His skin was a dark crimson, and glistened as if wet. He was about six feet tall and thin, bony even, so that she could see his wiry muscles strained against the confines of his skin. He wore no discernable clothing, but she couldn't tell if he was naked either. He looked humanoid, mostly. His head was a normal size, but red like the rest of its body. At first she thought he had hair, but realized the small spikes were jagged pieces of bone, and the small horns looked like a crown around his head. His eyes were a pair of fiery orbs burning deep within two black sockets.

"Who... What are you!" Michelle cried, voice cracking. She was embarrassed and frightened at the same time, and yet there was something else, too. A feeling of familiarity with the creature, like she should know him from somewhere.

"I am an incubus," the creature's deep voice entombed gently. "Do not be afraid."

Michelle could feel herself calming down. It was incredible, but a part of her suddenly began to trust the creature, and she was no longer fearful.

"An... incubus?" she said slowly.

The creature nodded, and carefully stood. It was indeed tall, and Michelle noticed for the first time, the tail. It was long and spiked, and slithered about behind him. "That's correct," it said. "Do you know what an incubus is?"

Michelle's wide young eyes were still full of fright, but slowly she nodded. "Yes... don't you... I mean, aren't you a demon? Who... who rape women?"

The incubus laughed, a deep and rattling sound. It approached Michelle slowly and stood at the end of her bed. "No, I have never raped a woman. Yes, I am a demon."

"Are you... I mean," Michelle stammered, "why are you here?"

The demon shrugged. "I could sense your thoughts. I liked them."

Michelle felt her face flush in embarrassment. She knew what her thoughts had been just before the demon had arrived. "Oh," she whispered shyly.

"Please continue," the demon smiled, revealing a mouth of sharp teeth. "With what you were doing."

The teenager looked up at him again. Shaking her head she said, "No... it's wrong."

"Why is it wrong?" the demon asked.

"It..." Michelle muttered. She knew she had an explanation, but could no longer remember it. She suddenly felt relaxed. "I don't know."

"Because it's not wrong," the demon nodded. He turned his body, while still looking at her, and sat down at the foot of her bed, causing the mattress to shift with his weight. He continued to study her. "So continue."

"Why?" the young girl stammered.

"I want to watch. And to help," he smiled.

Suddenly Michelle felt the feelings of excitement welling up in her body again. It was wrong, she knew, to do it, but she couldn't remember why. And it did feel so good... but not in front of someone!

She looked up at him again. He was a demon... but what was so bad about that? Confusing thoughts ran through her mind as she struggled to determine what was going on. And then, almost on cue, there came the mental picture of herself and the guy in the photo on top of her, and the stares of Mr. Lorski looking at her ass in the swimsuit, and the feeling of her finger inside her...

"Okay," she heard herself finally respond. Looking up at the demon again she smiled slightly. "Okay!"

"Good," the demon nodded.

She peeled the sheet down to her knees, revealing her naked form, and then lifted her legs and used her feet  to push the sheet all the way off. The nightgown bunched up around her neck felt so uncomfortable now. Without a word she sat up and pulled it over her head and dropped it next to her.

Completely naked now, and feeling more comfortable, she lay back and watched the demon staring at her. She was still smiling nervously as she spread her knees and pulled her feet up. She moved her right hand between her thighs and once again cupped her palm over her mound and began massaging her slit with her index finger. It hadn't dried up, and upon contact with her finger, she quickly moistened and was able to slide her finger inside.

"Mmm..." she moaned, stifling a cry of pleasure.

"It's okay," the demon assured her. "No one can hear you."

Michelle nodded.

And then she gasped in pleasure and closed her eyes, "Oh!" this time the gasp was louder, as her thumb rubbed her clit and her finger pushed in with an unexpected hard thrust.

Her young body became an electrical conduit of pleasure then. Her shoulders and hips quivered as all thoughts of embarrassment and guilt were replaced with warmth and tingling and craving for more sensation. She desperately began rubbing her chest with her left hand and pinching her puffy pink nipple, determined to increase her pleasure. Michelle was moaning steadily now, rolling her hips up and down as she continued pumping her finger in and out of her wet pussy.

And then she felt another hand gently rest on her knee and her eyes snapped open. His flaming eyes stared into her eyes as she continued to finger herself, although more slowly now. Her hand on her nipple stopped moving and she held it there, cupping her puffy breast. Their eyes were locked in a hypnotic gaze as his hand, surprisingly not hot nor cool, slid down her thigh, and stopped next to her hand.

Her hand was still now, her wet finger laying against her slit. Michelle felt him gently grasp her hand and slowly lift it away and carefully place her hand on the bed next to her. In a daze she watched as the demon's hand slowly rose and moved over her thigh and then descended. His long red fingers came to rest on her golden-haired mound, and his palm covered her wet slit, sending an erotic chill through her body.

The demon seemed to be asking her something with its eyes, and Michelle felt herself nod the response. The demon's red hand slowly pulled back and she watched the long red fingers slide down over the blond curls of her mound and disappear between her thighs. Her vision narrowed as she focused on the red arm and hand and...

"Oh!" Michelle gasped loudly as the demon's finger suddenly pressed into her wet slit. It was long and bony, and it made no pretense as to what it was trying to do. It pressed in further, deeper than she'd ever fingered herself before. And then she felt it bump against something inside her and continue to push.

She felt a popping sensation and shrieked in pain. "AHHhhh..."

But then the pain was gone, and only pleasure remained. She could feel his finger deep inside and his fist pressing against her slit and knew that his entire finger was inside her. She found both of her hands cupping her pert breasts, and she began pinching and pulling on both puffy pink nipples. The demon began to slowly fuck its finger in and out of her cunt, rasping his thumb across her clit. Michelle bucked her hips up passionately, realizing that this was the first time she let someone else masturbate her. No, she thought, he was fucking her with his long finger, like a thin dick.

Without warning, a wave of pleasure rippled from her pussy, up her belly and through her nipples and up the sides of her neck. She'd had orgasms from masturbating before, but this one was different. There was a blinding flash of white hot light, and the sensation of her entire body spasming uncontrollably as she grunted and cried out in pleasure. Michelle was having her first intense orgasm with someone else. Her body shivered as the leathery-skinned finger continued to fuck in and out of her.

The orgasm subsided but was not replaced by the usual feelings of guilt. Instead her mind was reduced to clarity and carnal pleasure she had never experienced. She wanted another orgasm, and the need overwhelmed her. At the same time she felt somehow dirty, yielding her body to service a beast quite beyond her power. Her eyes were full of lust and desire when she looked up at the demon.

He was smiling. He withdrew his long finger from her pussy with a slurping sound. Michelle clutched her puffy breasts in her hands and her hips continued to undulate, her hungry pussy seeking for the finger to return. The demon crawled up on the bed between her legs. Her pale body lay shuddering beneath him, and the look of savage need in her eyes begged him for more.

And then she saw it, a long object dangling between his legs, and she heard herself practically growl in desire. The object was growing rigid as the demon positioned itself, grabbing and pushing her knees and spreading her legs apart. Her knees hovered above her hands and her feet were at her buttocks.

She held her legs there, and watched the demon had grasp the stiff organ. It was red like the rest of his body, but thankfully devoid of the bony spikes, instead appearing much like the penis she'd seen in her dirty photo. This one was bigger and thicker than her wrist. She felt herself drooling with lust and eager to feel a real cock inside her.

"Mmmm..." she bit her lip when she felt the head of the penis press against her slit. One of his hands was pushing her knee, spreading her thigh further apart as his other hand struggled to hold his cock in place as the first inch began to enter Michelle.

Her hips squirmed, and she tossed her head back. spreading her blond hair about the pillow and clenching her eyes tight in pain and concentration. She couldn't believe such an object was trying to wend its way inside her little cunt, couldn't imagine that it would actually fit.

And then a deep sigh was heard from the demon as the first inch was sucked inside Michelle's flexing pussy. She mewed aloud in wanton desire as the object continued pressing further into her cunt-hole, another inch, then another.

Michelle felt like she would be torn asunder but didn't care. All that mattered was the orgasmic pleasure that was pulsing through her now, and the determination to feel a real cock inside her. And the demon seemed just as determined. Growling deep in his throat, a guttural sound, he pushed, watching as his long red member slid ever so slowly inside the young girl's pussy. Her inner muscles were squeezing against it, either helping it in or trying to force it out, as another few inches disappeared inside her.

"Ah, oh, fuck, FUCK!" she panted.

She was still pulling on her sore nipples with no regard to the pain it was causing. Now, pain seemed to increase her pleasure. as the mighty object pressed purposefully forward, deep inside, forcing aside organs as it made room for itself. The thought occurred to Michelle that she may die, but any hesitation was lost amid a flurry of another orgasm that suddenly overcame her.

Then the demon groaned, a tittering exhale, and Michelle looked down with blurred eyes to see that the penis was fully inside her. She could feel the creature's scrotum resting against her ass as his fuck-tool was buried in her to the root.

She continued squirming her hips and realized that this demon had now fully penetrated her virgin body. She could feel it inside her, imagined her vaginal walls grasping onto it tightly, squeezing it. A flood of sensations engulfed her, ranging from pity to guilt to humiliation. How could this be, that her young Catholic body was yielding her virginity to a demon? And yet she loved it. She loved feeling at his mercy, as if she were his fuck-toy to do with as he pleased.

The incubus began fucking the helpless teenager...

Pulling out and pushing in, sliding out and sinking in again, Michelle went go from feeling empty to full as his mighty instrument fucked her over and over. She began grunting, as her mind was incapable of processing the flood of climaxes that quaked her body.

The lanky demon continued his rutting. He began pulling all the way out, so that only the head remained inside her wet cunt, then sinking the entire length of his organ into her hot pussy. Again and again he did this as he watched Michelle writhe in orgasmic agony, her hands pinching and pulling on her puffy pink nipples, and her blushing face scrunched up from pain and pleasure.

At some point, a mighty roar brought Michelle back to reality. Opening her teary eyes she saw the demon's head arched back, howling into the air, filling the room with its deafening sound. He was no longer plunging in and out of her pussy, but held his hips against her with his demon cock stuffed inside her. And then there was an wet explosion inside her vagina as his cock erupted.

She cried out too now, joining his cries with her own, as she felt a hot gooey substance flood into her body. His ejaculation was a single, strong stream of hot cum gushing into her. She felt it squirting out of her widespread hole, bubbling around the cock stuffing her and drooling down her ass to pool on the mattress beneath her.

And then it stopped.

Michelle felt the cock begin to pull out for the last time, but wasn't consciously aware of it, as she was no longer consciously aware of anything. Bursts of light and sound echoed in her head. Her body was going into spasms. And young Michelle Dickinson passed out.

---

All was quiet as Jodie stepped into her house.

It was nearly four in the morning when she returned from the Cup. The coffee house had been closed for quite sometime of course, but she hadn't been there for the coffee. She had been there to meet people.

Smiling, she ushered in her canine familiar, whom she had decided to name Dante, after her favorite poet. Quietly she ascended the stairs to her bedroom, then closed the door and turned on the lights. Everything was working out as she had hoped.

She had discovered that drugs in Eastern City were plentiful when you knew where to find them. After a few dead end leads, she had finally discovered a good supplier. She would go to his house Monday night and make the buy and would no longer have to worry about not having a job.

Using the drugs herself hadn't occurred to her, until she'd been offered by the contact she'd made. Reluctantly she'd accepted a hit from his pipe, then another, until she'd finally gotten stoned. He was an older guy, probably about twenty-five, and perhaps unemployed and maybe even homeless. But after some light flirting, she managed to learn the whereabouts of a huge supplier located inside the city. And after a blow-job he agreed to take her there.

She settled down on her bed and sighed happily. With a source of income, she'd be able to move out of this wretched home. But not before she left her evil mark.

Suddenly Dante began growling, and a moment later the young witch sensed it, too. The presence of a being from beyond, asking permission to appear.

Sitting up she slowly chanted a few ancient words, and a purple mist appeared, floating at the foot of her bed. Then the mist expanded and darkened, forming into a lanky, red-skinned demon standing in the middle of her room.

"Incubus," she said softly in a commanding voice.

"Mistress," the demon replied, bowing. "Oneg the Unatour sent me. I am your humble servant."

Jodie studied the demon. Red, bony horns, tail, all seemed to check out. She shrugged. "Very well. My sister?"

The demon smiled. "Attended, as mistress ordered."

The young witch smiled in return. "Excellent," she nodded. "And you made sure she liked it?"

"Yes," the demon said assuredly, "She enjoyed it. And she'll want more."

"And more she'll get," Jodie replied. "Alright. You will leave her alone tomorrow night. Then come to her again the night after tomorrow, and then the next day. Report back to me then."

"As you desire," the incubus replied. "Mistress, a question?"

"Yes?" Jodie responded in annoyance. Demons, she was learning, could be very pushy.

"If I may suggest, I could be more effective if I knew exactly what you intend for young Michelle?"

Jodie considered a moment. Then a smile came to her lips and she said, "All you need know, incubus, is that she is to grow to love what you've given her. And desire it above all else."

The demon smiled. "Mistress," it nodded, then disappeared.

Dante, her newly named canine familiar, looked up at her questioningly.

"Ah," Jodie smiled. "Before spring's end, my dear sister will be the youngest whore in Eastern City."

She sat back, and was lost in thought for a few minutes.

Finally Jodie looked at Dante and whipped aside her long red hair to reveal her bare neck. "Feeding time."

Continued in Chapter 3

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