Satan's Sex Slave - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Daddy's Girl

Jodie slept easily through the night and awoke feeling better than she could ever remember. Looking over at her clock she saw it was almost nine-thirty in the morning. She remembered suddenly that it was Sunday, which meant church at St. Beckett's.

This should be amusing, she grinned to herself.

She slipped out of bed, naked, waking Dante in the process. She pet her canine familiar roughly with her behind his ears, and whispered to him, "You've got to stay out of sight while I'm gone. Stay in my room and be quiet."

Obediently, the dog jumped off the bed and strode towards her closet. She followed him and opened it, and inside he went. She knew her arcane familiar could enter a hibernation-like state and reduce all bodily functions, and would stay without making any noise until her return.

She rummaged through the closet for a minute looking for something to wear, and grinned evilly at the idea of dressing like a whore in a house of God. But that would cause too much friction with her mother. She wasn't ready for all that, yet.

After grabbing one of her typical church dresses, she went to the bathroom and showered. She decided, not to wear panties, as a form of rebellion that she could get away with. After showering, she heard music coming from her sister's room, which meant she had just awoken. Jodie glared menacingly at her sister's door as she passed it, getting aroused at the thought of the vile things she'd have done to Michelle before all was said and done.

At the breakfast table, her mom and dad were reading the newspaper and drinking coffee. Jodie helped herself to a cup and took a seat with them. "Good morning!" she smiled.

Her mom looked up at her. "Good morning, darling," she said. Looking over her outfit she said, "I'm glad you decided not to dress like a tramp, to church at least."

Jodie kept her mouth shut, but stared coldly at her mother.

"Your mother told me about that," her dad joined in, putting aside his paper. "We're going to have to have a talk if you decide to keep dressing that way. Is that understood?"

Jodie tried to keep from grinning. "Yes, Daddy!" She rose from her seat and started making cereal, observing how relieved her parents seemed now. It occurred to her that her father was in control of this family and her mother always deferred to him.

He'll have to be taken care of, she thought.

---

"I'm supposed to be going to church," Julie explained in a dead tone.

Franklin looked down at her.

He'd been driving to the Cup where he'd planned on getting some coffee and reading the paper when he saw, sitting on the curb, the form of Julie Florence. She'd been hugging her knees to her chest and rocking back and forth, staring absently across the street. Her normally groomed black hair was matted and frayed, looking like she hadn't showered. And her lips were devoid of their normal red lipstick. Although he didn't know Julie well, he knew of her, and decided to stop and find out if she needed any help.

"Are you going?" he asked.

Her lips moved in response, but no sound came.

Franklin decided she was probably strung out on some drugs. He didn't know if she did drugs or not, but she was certainly acting like it. Sitting down next to her, he lit a cigarette and observed the residential street they were on. It was a shortcut he usually took to get to the Cup from High Town.

"He was on fire!"

Franklin started. "Who's on fire?" he asked.

She shook her head, then gazed over at him. "You're Franklin?"

He nodded.

She looked away again. "He came and saw me last night."

"Who did?" Franklin asked, confused.

"Joe!" she suddenly said, voice rising into downright panic. "It was Joe! He was on fire!"

She threw herself against Franklin's, hugging him. He turned and put one arm around her as she sobbed. So that was it, he thought. She'd been friends with Joe Pierce, one of the guys who'd died in the fire. He hadn't known that.

"He was a friend of yours?" Franklin asked sympathetically.

She pushed him away, apparently in anger, and stood. Her eyes were red and puffy with tears. "No!" she yelled. "He was... Well, he liked Jodie, but I didn't like him!"

Franklin stood slowly in surprise. "He liked Jodie?" he asked, wondering if there was a connection with Jodie's changed appearance.

Julie spun around and stared down the street. Her voice suddenly dropping to just above a whisper she said, "I gotta go to church..."

"I know," Franklin said irritably. "But first, tell me... What's this about Jodie?"

Without looking back at him or moving from the spot, she explained, "He liked her. They were supposed to go on a date that night. He cancelled." She looked up at Franklin, her eyes suddenly wide as she stared at him. "If she'd been there..." Again she crumpled to the ground and began sobbing.

The gears in Franklin's mind were churning now. Something wasn't right here. "What do you mean... He came to you?" he asked.

No answer.

Franklin kneeled next to her. "Julie?" he said soothingly. "Julie... Why did you not like Joe?"

"He was a creep," she blubbered, "Fucking goth weirdo... He's so mad at me now! I gotta go to church!"

She jumped up and began half running, half stumbled back to her house.

Franklin let her go. She was obviously tripping, probably from acid or shrooms or something. That would also explain her condition. But what she'd said about Jodie made something in the back of his mind itch... It was an itch he'd had since the night before at The Lazy Cup, and he knew that if he could just scratch it, everything would make more sense.

Getting back into his car, he opted not to go to the Cup after all. He had to talk to the one person he knew might be able to help him. A Churchill graduate named Steve Feebs.

---

Jodie sat through the church service, bored to tears and even a little uncomfortable. All the crosses, and Latin chants, and ceremony that went with a Catholic ceremony was making her feel irritable. She needed a release of some sort.

She thought about her younger sister, Michelle. She looked oh-so darling in her light pink Sunday dress, singing the hymns and reciting the prayers as if nothing had happened the night before. Jodie knew better. She also knew more would happen to her sister tonight. Thinking on this made her feel better.

Jodie looked over at her dad. He would have to be taken care of too, or her life would be hell until she could get enough money together to move out. But what to do with him?

When the service was over, she stood in line for confession as always. It felt incredibly erotic somehow, to be standing in her Sunday dress with no panties on. She could feel the stares of several men, not unusual given her looks, but what they didn't know was her pussy was closer to availability than they might have imagined.

Before she knew it, she was standing in front of the velvet-draped oaken cubicle where confessions were given. She smiled, crossed herself sarcastically, and entered.

The small area smelled like wood-polish and moth balls. As she slid the heavy purple drapery closed she could feel the hard oak seat on her bare thighs, and the wood was warm from the previous parishioner. It felt so naughty, she decided to hike her dress up and sit in confessional with her naked butt on the bench. She lifted her hips a little and pulled the bottom of her dress behind her, and up to her back, then sat down again and wiggled happily on the bench. She could feel herself growing aroused as the scandal of it all.

With a creak, the window between her and the priest slid open, revealing a metal grate which prevented her from seeing him, and from him seeing her. The light which came through the grate was her only illumination now. The darkness was comforting.

"Good morning," came the priest's voice. It was a gruff, stern voice, and Jodie  recognized it as Father Rickle, the church's rector.

She smiled to herself. "Forgive me, Father, I have sinned," she said in a meek voice. "It's been... a week, I suppose, since last confession."

"What are your sins, child?" the priest asked.

"Well," Jodie began, "I've started smoking cigarettes."

"Is there more?" the Father asked.

"And," she said, grinning to herself, "I got stoned yesterday. On pot."

"Using drugs is a sin, in God's eyes," Father Rickle responded evenly.

Jodie suppressed a laugh. "Okay," she said. "But that's not all. You see, Father..." Jodie paused for dramatic effect. "This week I also lost my virginity."

"Sex before marriage," the priest responded calmly, not missing a beat. He had heard it all before, "... is also a sin in God's eyes. Tell me, why did you do it?"

Damn it, Jodie thought. She was trying to shock the old man, but so far hadn't succeeded. After pausing a moment she continued, "Well, Father, it wasn't like you think. I didn't lose my virginity to a horny classmate or anything... I lost it to a dog."

There followed, a silence in the confession booth. Yes! Jodie thought.

"A dog?" the priest asked, as if he may have misheard her pronounce a boy's name.

Jodie sighed as if loathed to admit it. "Yes, Father."

Father Rickle's voice rose a pitch, "You mean... literally. A canine?"

Jodie was getting a kick out of this. She wished she could see the look on his face. She began petting her neatly trimmed patch of red pubic hair as she continued, "Yes, Father, a dog. A big black Doberman Pincher named Dante. Two nights ago, he fucked me for the first time."

The priest's voice cracked with shock, "Do you mean that you've had intercourse with this...animal... more than once?"

Jodie smiled. She was really getting off on this; she could feel herself growing wet, and she began sliding her index finger up and down her slit. "Mmm... yes, Father. He's fucked me twice now. Most recently just last night. And it feels so good... Can I describe it?"

There was silence.

Jodie continued. "His long red doggy dick pushes into me, slowly at first. Before too long I'm leaking down there, and it's easy for him to get the rest of it inside me. He hunches on my back and eventually it's too hard to support the weight on my hands and knees..." She was speaking in a low and husky voice now as she began masturbating, "... so I drop to my elbows and rest on my boobs while he takes me from behind. His claws scratch my sides so hard it leaves marks. But it's so worth it..."

She couldn't imagine what could be going through the priest's mind. She wondered if he could hear the wet sounds of her finger sliding in and out of her quim, and her heavy breathing as she neared orgasm...

"My child,"  the priest said sternly, "You must not tell lies in a house of God."

"It's no lie, Father...It's..." Jodie mumbled. She hadn't masturbated since her pact with the devil, and it seemed fitting to do it in a church. The thrill of getting away with it, or being caught, was too arousing!

"It's what, my dear?" the priest asked.

She ignored him. She was now rubbing her clit frantically, causing her hips to squirm in the tight confines of the confessional booth. The polished wooden bench was now slick with her juices, causing her butt to slide back and forth, making it easier to...

"I...," she gasped as she felt an orgasm coming, "I... don't... need... Your.... FORGIVENESS!"

Suddenly she climaxed. Jodie let out a groan to prevent from screaming. She held her index finger all the way up inside her and rubbed her clit with her wet palm, to finish the process. Her nipples felt hard, and her bra felt tight, and she wished she had gone braless too. Her pussy clenched her finger several times, convulsing. Jodie smiled evilly as her body trembled in relief.

The booth smelled like her pussy now.

Still silence from the other side.

She licked her lips, and asked, "Father?"

No response.

She leaned forward and looked through the metal grate and saw his silhouette. He was still there.

Jodie sat back then, still smiling, smug in the knowledge that she had made the Holy Father speechless.

---

It was two o' clock in the afternoon, before Franklin was standing in front of Steve's door. It'd taken him awhile to find the address, just as he'd thought it would. About a year ago, the rest of his family had died in a strange series of events -- his father had supposedly murdered his mother, and then his sister had killed the father, and then the sister had taken her own life.

Franklin had known the sister, Karen Feebs, pretty well. They weren't close outside of school, but in freshman year they had shared an English class. He liked her, a lot in fact, but not in a romantic way. There had always been something about her that made him nervous, so he'd kept a distance. When she killed herself, he grieved more than most of her close friends, aside from Wendy. He blamed himself partly for her death.

He didn't know Steve that well, except that he'd been with the Goth crowd for a while before it became more mainstream. They'd shared a physical education class together when Franklin was a sophomore and Steve was a senior. The guy had kicked his ass several times on the wrestling mat. The fact they got along at all was due to the fact that Franklin never held grudges, and Steve had admired that.

He knocked on the apartment door marked J11, and waited. There was a rustling sound from within, then silence. Franklin stood patiently. He glanced down the hall to his left and right, marveling at the absolute dire condition it was in --stained carpeting where there was any, cracked walls, dripping ceiling.

This place should be condemned, he thought.

The door opened. A man about two inches taller than Franklin, but incredibly thin, stood there. He looked like a walking skeleton. His skin was shrunken like he hadn't eaten well in months, and his hair was long and greasy. Franklin's eyes went wide involuntarily at the image. It was Steve, all right, but not the Steve he remembered.

"Yeah?" Steve asked shortly. There was alcohol on his breath.

Franklin swallowed slowly, trying to think of something to say. "Steve... do you remember me?" It's all he could think of.

The skeletal looking man squinted his eyes and looked the stranger up and down. He shrugged slightly.

"Franklin Rodsberry, from Churchill. We had a gym class together..."

Steve stared blankly for a moment, then the corners of his lips curled up and he snorted. He took another, more casual look, then chuckled out loud. "Yeah, yeah man," he said, sniffing. "I remember you. I used to kick your ass in wrestling."

Franklin smiled slightly. "That's right. Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Steve didn't respond, but turned back into his apartment. Franklin took that as an invitation, so he followed him in.

The place was a shit-hole, Franklin thought.

Only one piece of furnishing, a ratty black couch, decorated the main room. Against the opposite wall sat a small twelve-inch television with a surprisingly nice video cassette recorder set up next to it. The floor was littered with dirty clothes, old newspapers and magazines, and all other kinds of trash. There was a stench in the air that made Franklin's stomach do a somersault.

"So whatta ya want?" Steve asked, plopping down on the couch.

Franklin tried to find a clean place to stand without looking obvious about it. When he couldn't, he replied, "I wanted to talk to you about Joe and Craig."

"They burned up," Steve answered quietly. After a short pause he smiled. "This place is a real shit- hole, isn't it?"

"It could definitely use some cleaning," Franklin responded.

Steve clapped his hands together and whooped. "That's what I remember about you! Your gift for understating the obvious. Good shit, good shit! Aw... so man, you got a smoke?"

Without batting an eyelash Franklin tossed him an unopened pack. "Take 'em," he said.

Steve stared at them, then glowered at Franklin. "I don't need charity," he spat.

"It's not charity. I'm buying something."

Steve raised a withered eyebrow. "Yeah? What're you buying?"

Franklin paused, taking a moment to light a smoke of his own and gather his thoughts. "I need to know about them. Stuff only you might know."

Steve nodded, slowly, then began packing the new pack of Marlboro's. "Okay man, yeah. Alright. I used to hang with them back in my Goth days, but only for a while. They weren't as hard-core back then as they were before they died, you know? But they talked shit, that's for sure."

"What do you mean they talked shit?"

He ignored Franklin as he rummaged through his sofa for a lighter. Finding one he lit up a smoke, leaned back, and rubbed his forehead. "That's good... fucking A. Been too long since I had one of these."

Franklin let him enjoy his smoke for a minute.

Finally Steve continued. "Yeah man, especially Joe. I mean, both of them were fuck ups and all, but Joe really stole the show. Craig was more of his lackey than anything else."

Franklin waited patiently while Steve remembered. "Yeah, Joe. I remember one time he got into all this Satanic Bible shit, you know? The rituals and spells and all that. Hell, I read 'em too, but I knew they were bullshit! That's partly why I stopped being like them, right?"

Franklin nodded.

"Yeah," Steve continued, staring blankly at the floor. "Joe was one demented motherfucker. He used to talk about sacrificing animals and shit. I remember one time he got me to be in some old spell he found in some fucking book he got at Barnes and Noble." He smiled. "Barnes and fucking Noble. Can you believe he thought that shit would work?"

"What was the ritual?" Franklin asked.

Steve shrugged. "I can't even remember now, my man. But I remember what it was supposed to do." He locked eyes with Franklin and smiled. "This little hotty in his third hour was supposed to suck him off everyday from it. Heh." He glanced away, eyes staring blankly. "Didn't work, though."

"Strange thing to have a ritual for," Franklin remarked.

Steve shot him a look. "Not if you knew Joe, it wasn't. That guy didn't give a shit about money, or power, or good grades or any of that shit. He wanted sex eight days a week. I think he was addicted to masturbation." He paused. "Ironic."

"How so?"

He didn't respond for a long moment. He seemed to be remembering things again, bad things. He was even beginning to look a little upset, but he shook it off. "You know, I should've gotten a shit load of cash when my dad died. He had life insurance, and plenty of it."

"What happened?" Franklin asked.

"Fucking cops," Steve glowered. "Froze my assets. 'Ongoing investigation', they told me. About his death, and Karen's..." At her name he stopped.

"That's fucked up. That shit all happened a long time ago," Franklin said, trying to empathize with him.

"What do you know about fucked up?" Steve snarled. "You come in here concerned about those fucking losers? Shit. You ever stop and notice that fucked up shit happens in this town every day?"

"I've noticed some things," Franklin nodded.

"Take your fucking blindfold off, man," Steve jibed. "It's all around you. Everyday, everywhere. And it affects people you'd never think."

"Like your sister?"

Steve paused. Suddenly his eyes grew wide and he jumped up. "Shut the fuck up!" he yelled. "What business is that of yours? Why would you even give a shit?"

Franklin didn't budge, although Steve was now standing toe-to-toe with him. "I guess 'cause my blindfold's coming off, man."

They stared at each other for a long moment, then Steve turned away. He started pacing. "No man, you don't know the first of it. Not about Karen, not about Joe, not about any of them."

"Then tell me!" Franklin demanded. "How the fuck can I know what I don't know?"

Steve stopped. "Remember Wendy?"

Franklin nodded, perplexed. "Yeah, so?"

"She still in the hospital?"

"Last I heard she was in Lane's Grove," Franklin replied.

"Yeah," Steve nodded frantically. "And why did they send a rape victim to the nut-house straight after intensive care? Huh?"

Franklin shrugged. "Fuck, I don't know. She had problems, from what I heard. Threatened to kill herself."

Steve smirked. "Yeah, I'm sure she did. She was obsessed with my sister. But that's not the point. She got locked up because her brain got fried."

"Fried? How?"

"From a drug," Steve said slowly. "One that even you've never heard of. Yeah, I know all about your little wanna-be drug empire, Frankie! Don't give me that look."

"What drug?" Franklin persisted.

Steve shook his head. "Now that's the question, isn't it?"

Franklin paused. Thoughts were racing through his head. "Jodie," he said slowly.

"Huh?"

Franklin looked at him. "Jodie... you don't know her. She's changed."

"How so?" Steve asked knowingly.

"A lot... like overnight. And now her best friend tells me Joe had a thing for her."

"Maybe she's just upset Joe's dead," Steve said, grinning. He seemed to be playing with him.

"No, it's not that," Franklin dismissed quickly. "No... it was like... not sad, but happy! Upbeat, and outgoing... she even dresses different. She used to be a stick-in-the-mud."

Steve smiled, and nodded. "Then she got it."

"The drug?"

He continued nodding.

"What is this drug?"

Steve didn't respond.

"Come on, tell me!" he demanded.

"No," Steve said. "I'll show you. Hang on a second." He ran through the main room then, and opened a door to what appeared to be his bedroom.

A moment later he returned with a notebook. "Here," he said.

"What's this?"

"Karen's note..." he said slowly. He locked eyes with him. "Her suicide note."

Franklin nodded. He watched as Steve turned and sat on the couch, and realized that was his cue to leave.

Just when he got to the door, however, Steve yelled to him, "Hey Frank!"

"Yeah?"

"Don't... don't think too low of me after you read that, alright?"

Franklin stared at him intently. "I don't judge people."

"I know man," Steve murmured. "That's why I trust you with it."

And with that, Franklin left.

---

Jodie sat in front of her mirror staring at the reflection. She was looking good. Damn good, she thought.

And yet she wasn't smiling. Something was wrong, but she couldn't figure out what.

"Are you in there?" she whispered, reaching out an extended finger towards the mirror.

She stopped. "Fuck!" she exclaimed, snapping out of the fogginess. She got up and began pacing.

She was naked because she still hadn't decided what to wear. She'd be going to the drug-dealer's house later that day to see if she could score some weed and maybe even some acid so she could start making money. But something was bothering her.

Not her sister. She'd been acting weird after church but that could be taken care of. It was her father. He was a loose-end she was going to have to tie up eventually... preferably soon. But what to do with him?

She had some new powers of persuasion, so perhaps she could slowly bend him to her will. But that would take too much time, and her powers weren't that practiced yet.

Mental note, she thought, I need to take care of that.

Besides, her father was pretty religious. He wasn't just one of those people who went to Church every Sunday because he feared dying, but he actually believed the Church's teachings. He was a good man, pious, righteous.

"Fuck," she exclaimed again.

Then an idea occurred to her, and she stopped. There was something where all men, even the righteous, were weak...

"Could it work?" she asked herself out loud, looking again at her naked body in the mirror. She began smiling.

Dante trotted over to her and stared up with a questioning look.

"It's all right, boy," she soothed, "I know what to do."

---

Ellen Samson was sitting in her living room wearing nothing but a long damp t-shirt. She had just showered and was feeling more relaxed, but the stresses of the last few days still weighed heavily on her shoulders. Ever since the start of the Test, as Father Rickle called it, Ellen had been busy. He had put her in charge of studying the new witch, to discover all she could about her powers and how they might be used to further the Church's own ends.

It was an honor to be given so much responsibility by her patron, as it showed how much faith he had in her. But at the same time. she didn't feel ready for the task at hand. Her own powers were still unpracticed and undisciplined, and she didn't trust herself to carry out the assignment as well as it should be.

That's why she was relaxing Sunday afternoon. Over the last few months, she found that allowing her mind to rest a bit, sometimes meant all the difference between success and failure.

And Ellen Samson hated failure.

The doorbell rang, distracting her from the television program she was watching. Her mother was gone for the weekend with her new boyfriend, Charles, and her brother was at a Church Camp sponsored by Father Rickle, as part of his training. So Ellen was alone, but she wasn't worried, and she didn't feel the least bit self-conscious about walking to the door wearing only a wet tee.

She opened the door to see Father Rickle.

"Good morning, Father," she greeted her patron. She couldn't remember ever seeing her teacher outside the confines of dusty old St. Beckett's before, and certainly never during daylight hours. She held the door open as the old priest invited himself in.

"We have work," Father Rickle said in his raspy voice. He walked into the small kitchen and took a seat at the table.

Ellen followed. "What's going on?"

Father Rickle stared at her intently. "Your subject came to confession today."

"Oh?"

He nodded. "She had some... interesting things to confess."

"I'm sure she did," Ellen said lazily, taking a seat across from the old man. "It's all in my report."

"Is it, now?" Father Rickle said, raising one bushy eyebrow. "There's more going on, than just her attempts to corrupt her family and friends."

"How so?" Ellen asked, lighting a cigarette.

Father Rickle sighed. "Suffice to say, she's making mistakes. She's new to this power and hasn't learned the proper respect for it. She moves too quickly. She'll draw attention to us."

Ellen froze. "That's not possible," she said in disbelief.

The priest shook his head. "It happens even now. Indirectly, anyway, I can feel someone or... well, it doesn't matter. The point is, she's being careless, and could ruin everything."

Ellen considered for a moment, before asking, "Then we should take care of her?"

The priest nodded.

"And," Ellen continued slowly, "We will use her first... to handle this problem you speak of?"

He smiled. "My most cherished student," he said, standing. "My thoughts exactly."

"What do you want me to do?"

The priest stood to leave. "Watch her. This will be your final exam. If you handle this well, you'll pass." He walked to the front door, and opened it.

"And if I don't?"

The priest snorted. "Well, then, I guess you'll fail." He left, closing the door behind him.

Ellen thought a few minutes. She eventually came to one conclusion. That she had just been warned.

---

It was about seven o'clock in the evening when Jodie pulled into the trailer park named Forest Grove. She was late, but wasn't worried about it. She had been busy in the forest again, setting her new plan into motion, and kind of wished she was home right now so she could observe the impending crisis there. But she had other things to take care of.

After tonight, she thought, my money problems should be over!

She could make money several different ways, of course, but in the end this was the quickest way she knew how. She had plans for all the losers who visited that coffee house, and to succeed, she needed to infiltrate them. What better way to do, so than to be their new supplier?

The trailer park was small, with narrow winding roads that wove between the numerous old mobile homes. When she was younger, she had a friend who'd lived at Forest Grove, and could remember asking her mom why people lived in such squalor.

"For some people," her mother had informed her, "this is the best they can afford."

Finally she found the lot she'd been looking for. The trailer home was bigger than the others in the park. It was also an older one. Rust plagued its sides, and two of its windows were covered with plywood. In front of the home were three cars -- a large gray ten year old pick-up truck, a surprisingly sleek four-door sedan no more than a year old, and on cinder blocks was a small rusted four-door sedan stripped for any salvageable parts.

She briefly considered bringing Dante with her, but had left her canine familiar in her bedroom closet at home. She could take care of herself.

As she walked up to the door, she pondered why people who sold drugs lived in such poverty. Likely, they were low level distributors, but a stepping stone on her way to finding the real suppliers.

Jodie knocked on the door.

The door opened to reveal a round-bellied man wearing a sleeveless tank-top shirt. He was balding in the front but had long, stringy black hair down the back. The stubble on his puffy face suggested that he hadn't shaved in a couple days, and his body odor suggested he hadn't showered, either.

"Yeah?" he entombed, glaring at the young woman.

"Hi!" she said casually. "I'm Jodie... uhm, I was expected?"

She tried to appear a little nervous, for their benefit. She didn't want them to think anything strange of her.

The man looked past her suspiciously, at her car, around the park. "Okay," he finally said, and stepped back to let her in.

"Thanks!" She squeezed past the overweight man and was confronted by the odor of marijuana, tobacco smoke, and a stale smell which permeated the air. A television was blaring, and she could hear other voices in the back of the home.

She stood in the equivalent of a living room. It was small, about half the size of the one at her house, but had a nice leather couch and entertainment center. It also had a brand new computer off to the side... she wondered at that. A woman was sitting on the couch and a shirtless man was next to her, or rather draped over her as they kissed, with his back to Jodie.

"Hey, Dirk!" the fat man bellowed, pushing past her. "This that girl you were 'specting?"

The shirtless man on the couch looked back over his shoulder inquisitively. His eyes went wide as soon as they saw Jodie. His arm had been around a young woman about her own age. He untangled himself from the young woman and rose, pulling up his front zipper.

He smiled, "You're Jodie?" 

He was probably in his late twenties or early thirties, and had sharp angular features. His eyes were small which made him seem devious, but his mouth was large and formed in a generous smile. He had short, dusty brown hair and a wispy teenage moustache, with well toned muscles. Overall he seemed to be a rather harmless guy.

"Yep," she smiled easily, brushing strands of her red hair from her face. She looked around the room then back at him. "Nice place."

He shook his head. "Not really...  Just a place. You've met Paul, behind you? And this is Monica."

The girl on the sofa raised her hand limply, but continued watching the television.

Jodie half-turned to the large man behind her, "Hi,". She didn't say anything to Monica but turned back to Dirk. "So... can you hook me up?"

"Let's go to my office," he said. 

She followed him into the kitchen area, separated from the main room by a low doorway with hanging beads. The 'office' was little more than a card table with two chairs, a sink, and a fridge. There was no stove or oven. He took a seat in one of the chairs and looked her up and down.

Of course, Jodie had never been in a situation like this, and she was unsure what the next step was. She'd been hoping Dirk would be the one to initiate the sale, but all he did was stare at her body and grin slyly.

Unable to bear it anymore, she put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "So, what? You don't have it or something?"

"Have what?"

Jodie paused. Narrowing her eyes she replied, "I thought you were a drug dealer."

"Take off your shirt."

She was taken aback by his sudden command. Though all forms of modesty had left her, with the onset of her new powers, she did not like being ordered around.

Jodie stared back at him. "What?"

He leaned forward in his chair. "I said... take off your shirt."

Jodie considered walking out right then and there. Most people would have. But then again, Jodie wasn't a normal person anymore. After staring at him for a long minute she decided to see what would happen. She pulled off her tight black shirt and stood in front of him wearing only a black bra above her waist. She held her shirt and put her hands back on her hips, continuing the staring contest.

Dirk was growing hard just looking at the teenager's semi-dressed body, more revealed to him than he'd thought it'd ever be. Most of the kids who came to him looking for drugs didn't past this test, and it was a shame. He thought the best bodies belonged to the young.

"Alright, babe. The bra," he said.

"What's this all about?" Jodie snapped.

"I need to see if you're wearing a wire."

She stared. Of course, she thought. A drug dealer like this would take such precautions. Her angry grimace changed back into the innocent smile that she'd been wearing when she'd entered the trailer home. 

"I'm not a fucking cop," she said soothingly, and did not take off her bra.

He shrugged, and continued devouring her body with his eyes. Then he stood, and walked around the card table to stand in front of her.

She stood casually, continuing to stare at him with her large doe-like eyes.

He reached out and placed his hands on her bare shoulders.

Suddenly she heard the hanging beads behind her pushed aside. Dirk looked past her and said, "She's clean."

Jodie heard a disbelieving grunt behind her, then Paul said, "Want I should search 'er?"

Dirk looked back down at Jodie's large eyes, then he looked past her again. "Yeah, do it," he ordered.

Dirk removed his hands from Jodie's shoulder and took several steps back. Suddenly Paul made his way around Jodie, to stand in front of her. He was huge compared to the her, but Jodie wasn't intimidated. She was actually quite amused at the way his big beefy hands reached out slowly toward her, as if afraid to touch her.

Paul placed his hands on Jodie's shoulders. "Lift yer arms."

Jodie didn't flinch. She dropped her black shirt to the ground and lifted her arms a little, and kept looking past Paul to stare at the increasingly interested Dirk.

She felt Paul's sweaty hands move down her sides and his fingers felt around the waistband of her pants. Then his big hands moved up her sides and behind her. Paul's fingers fumbled at the back of her bra and then unsnapped it. He pulled the halves of her bra forward and left it hanging before reaching up to pull the shoulder straps down. Jodie didn't resist and lowered her arms to make it easier for Paul to pull her bra off.

Dropping the garment on top of her shirt, Paul stared intently at her chest for a couple moments, as if trying to make up his mind.

As if to encourage him, Jodie inhaled and lifted her chest ever so slightly, smiling all the while.

Paul took the hint. His large hands suddenly cupped her two large tits, and began massaging them enthusiastically. He wasn't gentle or trying to excite her, in fact he was squeezing her breasts too tightly, but all the same Jodie was getting turned on. Perhaps it was because this man had no interest in pleasing her, but only using her for his own pleasure, that excited the young witch.

"Paul," Dirk suddenly snapped.

The bodyguard, because that's what Jodie had realized he was, stopped his examination of the teenager's chest. Paul looked over his shoulder and said gruffly, "Great tits."

"Finish the search."

Paul's big hands dropped Jodie's breasts unceremoniously and grabbed the belt which held up her shorts, and unbuckled it. Then, bending over, he unbuttoned her pants and unzipped them, and pushed them down her legs. Again, Jodie didn't protest. She had to place her hands on Paul's shoulders to keep from falling, but besides this, she didn't move. Paul lifted Jodie's feet, one at a time, and pulled them through the pant legs, before dropping the pants on top of her shirt and bra.

"Her panties," Dirk commanded.

Paul looked back at him. "She ain't wearing none."

"Really?" Dirk asked, impressed. He came around to Paul's right and examined the teenager.

Jodie was now completely naked, except for her tennis shoes. Her hands still rested on Paul's shoulders, but she was smiling at Dirk.

Dirk nodded, "I guess you're clean, huh?"

"I told you I wasn't a fucking cop!" Jodie smiled playfully.

Dirk grinned. What a hot fucking babe, he thought. "Okay, take a seat," he said, waving her over to a chair at the card table. He watched to see if she'd dress first.

She didn't.

Paul stood over Jodie's discarded clothes and watched intently as the teenager stepped to the chair and sat down slowly.

In Dirk's mind she was doing this on purpose, teasing him, and showing off her body because she knew how hard it made him. He felt himself begin to sweat. "Okay, babe. What is it you want?"

"Just some weed," Jodie smiled. "Well, a lot actually."

"How much?"

"Four ounces."

Dirk raised his eyebrows. "That is a lot. You got money?"

"Yes," she said. "It's not on me, of course. I didn't know what kind of people you'd be. But I have money."

"How much?"

"Three hundred."

She heard Paul snort behind him, and saw that Dirk was grinning. "That might get you one ounce, hon, but not much more than that."

Her smile disappeared as she considered. "Well... what about a payment plan?"

He shook his head. "Why do you want so much anyway?"

"I'm unemployed," she said, quite seriously.

Dirk couldn't help but laugh. "You're a fucking kid! What do you need to be selling drugs for?"

She leaned forward, quite aware his attention was torn between her face and her hanging breasts. "I don't want to flip burgers."

He shrugged. "I didn't say you had to. But how do you plan on moving that much dope?"

She paused. "What do you mean?"

"Look," he explained, "it's not that easy to make a profit from weed, okay?"

"Is that why you live is this shithole?" she asked viciously.

He shook his head. "I have a house in Bloomfield Hills where I live. I use this... shit-hole... as a base of operations."

"For drugs?"

"Nope. For my other business."

"Which is?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"You saw that girl sitting out there?"

She nodded.

"She's one of mine, and I don't mean a daughter."

Realization dawning on her, Jodie smiled. "Ah... I see! You hook her out?"

"Her, and a few others. But also, I make and sell adult videos for... special customers."

Jodie smiled. "Not exactly the stuff you'd find at a video store?" She obviously had no experience working in the commercial adult industry or sex trafficking, but had read a little about it and seen porn videos. She took a guess at what Dirk's video collection might include.

He laughed. "Nope. Anyway, moving drugs is dangerous and sometimes unprofitable, unless you're at the top of the food chain."

"And you're not?" Jodie asked.

"Are you kidding? You'd probably be dead if I were. But like I was saying, you're not gonna make much money selling pot to high school kids."

She considered briefly. Since the pact with the devil, sexual activity was definitely on her agenda, even if she was inexperienced at it. As long as it made more money that selling pot, and if she could disguise her identity until she was able to move out and live on her own, it was definitely worth considering.

Jodie asked, "How much money do your girls make?"

Dirk leaned back. This teenager was turning out to be a rather pleasant surprise. "It depends. If they make the clients wear a condom, or not. If they let the clients cum on them, or not." He leaned forward. "If they let the clients hurt them, or not."

"What range are we talking?" Jodie asked. She was confident that her new powers could help her control potential customers, and heal herself, if he was implying that there could be bondage and spanking or whipping involved.

Dirk paused a moment, then called, "Monica, get in here!"

The girl who'd been sitting on the couch came into the crowded little kitchen. She had a glazed look to her, as if she'd been doing drugs, or hadn't slept in quite awhile. Probably both. She was of Hispanic descent, shorter than Jodie, with dark brown skin, a round face, and had long, dark brown hair which was currently unkempt and unwashed. She was quite attractive. And also a teenager, possibly younger than Jodie.

"Yeah?" Monica asked blankly. She looked over at the red-headed teen, who sat naked in the chair across from Dirk.

"How much money did you make last week?" Dirk asked.

Monica looked back at Dirk. "Six hundred, I think."

"Okay, good." He turned back to Jodie. "You see, Monica here spends most of the cash she rakes in on drugs... pot, speed, acid. All that shit. She's a junkie. Despite all that, however," at this he chuckled, looking back at Monica, "she won't let guys fuck her in the ass."

"Most Hispanic girls love it in the ass," Paul interjected.

Monica ignored them. She stood with downcast eyes and held a smoldering joint, waiting to be dismissed.

"Also," Dirk continued, "she doesn't like them hurting her, or fucking her without a condom." He looked at her again. "She'd make more if she did."

"How much more?" Jodie asked.

"Twice as much, at least."

Jodie looked back at Monica. She imagined Monica sitting naked in front of an older man that looked like Paul, and pictured her brown hands unrolling a condom onto his dick. Monica was definitely attractive, but her body wasn't as well developed as her own. Jodie knew she could make more.

She asked, "Is she in your videos?"

"Not yet, not yet..." Dirk shook his head. "But she's going to soon. She owes me... well, let's just say she owes me a lot of fucking money."

Monica took a drag from the joint she'd brought in with her, but wouldn't meet Jodie's gaze.

Jodie calculated in her head, that she could fuck a couple old men like Paul or her former boss Mr. Larson, two nights a week and explain to anyone that she was at the library. There would still be time to sell drugs to the kids at the coffee house. Two revenue streams sounded better than one.

"Alright," Jodie said, "but I'd still want to sell drugs, too."

Dirk could hardly suppress his laugh. What good fortune! he thought. "Of course, sure," he said. "I'd give you whatever you want on credit."

"So when could I begin?" Jodie asked.

Monica began coughing.

Dirk leaned back in his chair. "Hmm... well, I have to get you a pager. You see, my clients generally want someone on short notice. When I page you, it'll be with a room number and a time... we use the Tireless Motel on US 12 just past the strip clubs."

Jodie thought she might be going to the client's homes. Doing it as a motel seems more anonymous and probably safer for all parties involved. But the same place every time could get suspicious. She could wear a hat and park around the corner so that nobody would recognize her or the car. And short notice? Hopefully that meant 'same day' and not 'in the next hour'. She definitely didn't want this to be like a job, job..

"And all I do is show up and fuck?" she asked.

"Exactly."

"When can you get me a pager?"

"I could give you one right now," Dirk mused, "but first I'd have to... playtest the merchandise?"

Jodie smiled knowingly. Also... men. She knew before she even walked in the door, that she might have to give a hand-job or a blow-job to seal the drug deal. Now that a second line of work was available, she knew that Dirk would be fucking her, and not like a handshake. She needed to demonstrate that she could fuck a client on demand, and the client would get what they paid for, and ensure the client would come back again.. 

"I wouldn't be a good business man if I didn't know what I was selling, would I?" Dirk asked rhetorically.

Jodie stood from her chair. She'd been growing aroused since Paul undressed her. Now there were three sets of eyes on her body in this shitty little mobile home, making a deal to sell drugs for quick cash, and to prostitute herself for bigger cash. It was more that what she'd hoped for.

The naked red-head teenager, wearing only her tennis shoes, stepped around the table and slid past Monica and Paul. She felt Paul's sweaty hand grab at her ass. She ignored it.

Dirk turned his chair to face her and leaned back so that he could see her whole body. Jodie straddled Dirk's legs and placed her hands on his bare chest. Then she bent her legs and lowered her hips, to sit on Dirk's lap. He was smiling lustily as he moved his hands up to her arms and pulled her against his chest. She reminded herself, to demonstrate.

She slid her hands to his shoulders and pressed her naked breasts against him, her skin cool against his hot chest. He opened his mouth and raised his chin, expecting to kiss her. Jodie wasn't expecting a kiss, and in fact had yet to romantically kiss a man. Realizing that this was her first time kissing a man, gave her goosebumps. Her mouth descended and she pressed her lips against his. She was surprised when his tongue pushed between her lips and slithered into her mouth. She purred in his mouth and ran her hands around his shoulders as they kissed passionately. Dirk moved his hands to her lower back and hugged her young body to his.

Jodie could feel the bulge in his pants pressing against the underside of her thigh, and she squirmed her butt around until she was sitting on his growing erection. He broke off the kiss and whispered in her ear, "You're a goddamned slut, aren't you?"

She whispered back, "Yes. And soon I'll be your whore, too!"

This turned him on even more. It was a scene straight from a porn movie or one of the raunchy low- budget magazines he published every couple months for his selective clientele. And although he'd had many amazing sexual encounters in his thirty-five years, he'd never had one so eager.

Dirk ran his hands around her round ass, squeezing the teenage flesh. He moved his mouth to kiss her again and continued swirling his tongue around hers. I bet she sucks cock like a pro, he thought. While continuing the sloppy kiss, he leaned forward, dipping the red-head back over his knees. Then he held her tightly and stood, lifting her body with him as he did. They continued swapping saliva and wrestling their tongues together as Dirk turned and placed Jodie's ass on the edge of the table, before releasing his grip on her and leaning back.

Jodie licked his saliva from her lower lip as he leaned back. Her hands went straight for the belt of his pants and frantically undid them. She was almost as excited as she'd been earlier that day at the church! She wanted to be fucked, and soon. Her fingers pulled the belt apart and she unbuttoned his pants and pushed the zipper down.

Paul had come around the other side of the table to watch, and she could see him out of the corner of her eye unzipping his own pants. Unsurprisingly Monica was right next to him, eyes still downcast, and she was pulling off her pants as well. She briefly wondered how they were going to participate.

Dirk put his hands over her breasts, and pushed the red-head away. Jodie let go of his pants and lay back on the table, staring up at Dirk with excited eyes, her read hair splayed out across the table top. He leaned back, slowly dragging his fingers down the teenager's stomach, to the top of her thighs spread around his hips.

Dirk said to breathlessly, "You're gonna be a great fuck... you a virgin?"

She shook her head wordlessly and moved her hands to cup her breasts and stroke her stiff nipples with her thumbs.

"I didn't think so." He leaned back and dropped his pants, and stepped out of them. Then he stood up again, and grabbed his hard cock, pointing it between her spread legs. "Do you like pain?" he asked.

She nodded, unable to speak for her excitement. She was about to climax already, without so much as a finger inside her.

"You're gonna make a lotta cash, then," Dirk said. "Paul, help me with this one. You too, Mon."

Jodie gasped in quivering anticipation as Paul stepped around to the end of the table where her head lay. She felt Paul's big hands grab her wrists and pull them away from her tits. Monica was standing at the side of the table, looking down at her body. Jodie was prepared to demonstrate her willingness to fuck Dirk, but wasn't sure what Paul and Monica would do. Now it was clear that her demonstration was going to be to all three of them. Paul pulled her arms straight back, above her head, holding her wrists against his naked hips.

"Oh!" Jodie gasped.

She trembled through her first orgasm of the night then, her mind clouding over for a moment as she did. Paul was pulling her arms back and staring down into her young face which was framed by her red hair.

"Monica, lick her tit and don't be gentle," Dirk commanded hastily. He grabbed the back of Jodie's calves and looked over at Paul. "Do whatever you want, man!" he offered.

Jodie felt like an object, a sexual toy for these depraved people. And she loved it. Since she'd made her pact with the Devil, her life was heading in the exact direction she'd wanted, and silently she thanked the Dark Lord for it. She'd be making money soon, her enemies were almost taken care of, and she was beginning to be fucked on a regular basis.

Dirk lifted Jodie's legs and moved his hands to the back of her knees. Then he pushed her legs up over her as far as he could, so quickly it sent a wave of pain up Jodie's body. Her knees were almost touching the table right next to her tits. Monica had begun sucking on her left breast, cupping it in her hand. Her long brown hair tickled Jodie's flesh as she began to gently play with her nipple using her tongue. Meanwhile Paul had placed both of Jodie's wrists into one of his large hands and was using his free palm to begin kneading her other tit rather roughly.

Dirk told Monica, "Hold this leg."

Monica followed his order, and did so with her free hand, while she continued to lick at Jodie's breast.

Jodie could see Dirk holding her other leg in place while he used his free hand to position his cock at the entrance to her warm hole. She was wet from excitement and the orgasm, and panting in anticipation. Aside from canine familiar Dante, and former boss Mr. Larson, Dirk would be her second human to fuck her.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she panted in unison with Dirk's heavy breathing.

His cockhead moved up and down her slit, collecting her cum on the tip like it was a plow. He rubbed her cream up over her clit, causing Jodie to moan. Then he moved back down pressed into her hole, which gladly took the invader in. She was staring up into Paul's upside-down face and his eyes were staring lewdly at her triangle of red pubic hair and Dirk's cock slowly disappearing into her. She could feel another orgasm beginning to quake her body.

"Fucking slut," Dirk heaved, pressing more of his length into the teen, "Ungh... they'll like it better... if you don't... act like you enjoy it..."

Jodie understood, despite Dirk's incoherent speech. He wanted her to feign fright, and act like she was being forced to have sex, or even raped. In a heartbeat her expression changed from one of excited desire to utter fear. She delved deep into her brain, digging up memories of when she'd been a proper church-going girl, and used them to help her pretend. The old Jodie, she knew, would act quite a lot different in this situation. Her mind was trying to come up with words, as her pussy was enjoying a new cock.

She hissed, "Ok." Then she said softly, "Please stop," and then louder and more frightened, "Please don't hurt me!"

Dirk was amazed. This girl is good, he thought. In one steady thrust he slid the rest of his dick into her clenching pussy, and the teenager responded by crying out in pain and fear. He couldn't tell if she was pretending.

Paul was suddenly more in his element as the confident read-head teenager went from enjoying this fuck to fearing it. He pulled harshly on the tit he'd been rolling around a second before, and began twisting it, enjoying the look of torment in the girl's eyes.

Monica continued licking Jodie's nipple with her tongue, still gently. She didn't know anything about this red-head school girl, but she was sure by the time she left she'd regret ever having met Dirk and Paul. Therefore, she reasoned, if she could give the red-head at least some gentle pleasure, she would.

Jodie kept up the act of pain and terror, secretly enjoying it. She could see the look in Paul's eyes as he increased his efforts to hurt her. This pleased her. She could tell Paul was used to such things, so she gave him screams of pain and tears of terror. Inside, though, she shuddered through another orgasm as Dirk's cock slid in and out of her dripping cunt.

Finally Dirk could take it no longer. He thrust into the teen one final time, mashing his dark pubic hairs against her trimmed red triangle. He held his cock unmoving, deep inside her and pushed both of her legs up against her until he was convinced the girl's grimace of pain was real. And then he relaxed his grip on her legs and focused on his cock, letting loose with the semen that had been welling up inside his balls. Dirk grunted as his cock jerked several times inside the red-head, spurting his hot cum deep inside her convulsing pussy.

After he was spent, Dirk let go of her legs and stepped back, his body shaking from the intense fuck. Her feet fell to the tabletop, but her knees remain spread wide. His stiff cock slid out, shiny and wet with her juices and his cum. Her pussy was red and her hole remained open a little, and dribbling a stream of his cum down over her asshole to puddle on the table. He gazed lazily at the red-head's face, which was streaked with tears. He thought she either had had a change of heart, or the she was a really good actress. He didn't really care which, although the latter would mean some serious cash for him.

"Your turn," Dirk panted, standing off to the side and offering Paul the teenager's body.

Jodie saw the look of anticipation in the large man's face as he let go of her arms and stepped around to where Dirk had been standing. Her legs were sore and her knees still spread wide. She made no effort to move her arms, leaving her elbows at the sides of her head, hands dangling. She concentrated on keeping up her victim act.

"Please, sir, don't, please..." she whimpered, giving Paul a pitiful look of anguish.

He ignored her. Reaching forward he grabbed the girl by her ankles and pulled her limp body to him, away from Monica's continued licking. Paul relished the look of surprise in the teen's wide eyes. He growled at her incoherently, then grabbed her by the elbows and pulled her off the table to stand before him.

Jodie went with the flow and found herself standing, with her breasts pressed against Paul's big belly. She wondered what he was doing as he grabbed her arms. Then he turned her around so that she was facing the table.

Paul nudged her forward, forcing her hips against the edge of the table and then pushed her shoulders, forcing her to bend over. As she fell forward, he slid his hands down her arms to grab her wrists and clenched them together behind her back in one hand. Jodie bent over the table, her breasts flattening underneath her. She closed her eyes and held her chin up so that she wouldn't bang her face. There was a limit to amount of hurt she would enjoy.

Then Jodie felt the large man nudge her legs apart with his knees and she shuffled her feet to oblige. So this is round two, she thought. She kept her eyes closed and concentrated on the next dick she was about to be filled with. Then the meeting will be over, she told herself.

"You 'bout to get fucked hard, girl," he hissed. "Fucked up your back-door. Little slut like you oughtta get off on this!"

Wait, the teen witch thought. This may actually hurt. She struggled to keep from smiling. She felt his cock sliding up and down her slit. She hadn't seen it, but could tell that his dick was smaller than Dirk's. But it didn't matter, because this would be the first time she would have a cock of any size, in her ass. At least he would have a little lubrication.

 Jodie begged him through feigned tears, "No. Please don't..."

Meanwhile Dirk had moved around in front of her. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head up to stare at her. Jodie opened her eyes and stared at Dirk. He searched her eyes for some kind of truth. Was she still pretending. Were they raping her now? He didn't care either way, but he wanted to know.

"Still wanna be my whore?"

Without falling out of character Jodie did not smile, and managed to nod her head. This was met with a swift slap against her cheek. SLAP!

"Bitch!" Dirk yelled. He slapped the same cheek again. SLAP!

He yelled, "I asked you a question!"

Paul had dipped the head of his cock into her dripping pussy before moving up to press his cock against her anus. Now he was beginning to press his organ into her, making it hard for her to speak. For the demonstration... she reminded herself and relaxed her hips and ass as much as she could.

"Yes!" she screamed.

Dirk continued staring at her for a long moment, then he looked at Monica, "Take off the rest of your clothes and get your ass over here."

Just then Jodie's eyes went wide as her sphincter muscle finally relented. In the span of a second it increased its size to allow the foreign object a chance to penetrate her. She held her mouth open in a silent scream, holding her breath as Paul's cock pushed inside. It was an incredible sensation. And his cock continued sinking into her, going deeper. Her stomach suddenly felt full, while at the same time her ass began clenching and struggling to force the invader out. She bucked her ass back at the fat bodyguard as if struggling to free herself, but in actuality she was pressing her cum-soaked mound against the table's edge.

A moment later Dirk pulled back on her hair again so that her head faced forward. Monica was standing in front of her, gazing at her with stoned sympathetic eyes.

Fucking mindless slave, Jodie thought.

"You're gonna eat her out," Dirk instructed Jodie. "Make her cum. Or there's no deal."

Just as Jodie was beginning to wonder how she could manage to eat the other teen's pussy, Dirk let go of her hair and wrapped his arms around Monica, picking her up.

A second later Monica was placed on the table in front of Jodie's face, her legs spread wide. They were thin legs, and her inner thighs were lighter in color, softer brown like cream in coffee. Jodie found herself staring into the girl's vulva. She had a black triangle of pubic hair that looked trimmed, but not recently. Her labia was brown like chocolate, and the lips were wrinkly, dry, and closed.

Jodie struggled to maneuver her head up between the girl's legs. Her tits, mashed as they were against the sticky card table surface, gave her an extra couple of inches when she did this so that now her jaw rested at the base of the Mexican girl's slit. Jodie inhaled the aroma of the female pussy, then extended her tongue towards the chocolate-colored lips.

Paul watched all this in a frenzied fascination while he ground his hips forward. His hands were clamped tightly around Jodie's hips as he pressed his dick further inside her. He'd never had an ass so tight, and it suddenly dawned on him that the girl had probably never been fucked up the butt before. This made him smile menacingly. He drew back his right hand, and slapped the red-head's round ass as hard as he could. SMACK!

"Ahhh!" Jodie cried out.

The surprising and painful slap stunned her. She knew the terrified victim act was getting the fat man off, and that excited her all the more. She didn't mind the pain, and she felt him slap her jiggling butt before proceeding to press his stiff dick further into her ass.

Monica was stoned, pliable, and dazed. The sounds, smells, and sights of what was occurring seemed veiled somehow. It wasn't until Jodie began licking at her dry crotch that she felt herself come back down to earth, back into reality. Held up by Dirk, Monica timidly placed both hands on top of Jodie's head, her eyes transfixed on the ramming the red-head was receiving from Paul behind her. Monica had gotten it like that once before, too, but it had been from Dirk. So she could imagine what Jodie was experiencing.

Jodie was swirling with sensations. She was being fucked in the ass for the first time, and she was licking another pussy for the first time. Her body was trembling towards another climax. Jodie pressed her tongue between the chocolate-colored wrinkles, parting the girl's flesh to reveal a pink interior. Her tongue moved up and down, tasting Monica's salty, tangy hole. She mashed her mouth against the pussy and sucked at the other girl's cunt. Monica's hips began to move, and her pussy began to moisten. Jodie could sense the girl was finally beginning to relax by the way she stroked her hair. It was only a matter of time before she would cum.

Dirk was holding Monica from behind, his arms wrapped under her armpits and his hands cupped the teen's breasts. He was keeping his girl in position for Jodie's muff-dive. He looked up at Paul. The man could be quite brutal, he knew, which is what made him such a good bodyguard. And in this situation he showed no interest in giving the red-head any pleasure, focusing only on getting his entire cock up her ass.

As Jodie continued slurping at Monica's pussy she finally felt Paul's balls press against her sopping wet pussy. He was finally entirely inside her. She felt as if she'd been impaled, and it seemed quite impossible she should survive such a ramming. She wasn't sure if she wanted to experience the ass-fucking again. Maybe. But as Paul slapped her ass hard again, her thoughts jumped back to the cock in her ass and the pussy on her mouth. Her body quivered and she grunted as another orgasm claimed her.

Monica was breathing heavily in ragged gasps. She closed her eyes and pushed her fingers through Jodie's hair. The red-head was a good cunt-licker. Monica had been eaten out before, but never approached orgasm quite this quickly. She felt Jodie's tongue sliding up and down her slit, press into her hole and swirl around, then her lips sucked at her button. And sucking her clit was... sparks seemed to emanate from where Jodie's juiced-up jaw met her quivering cunt.

Paul wasn't going to last much longer, he knew, and he blamed the teen for it. He drew back and slapped her ass again, as if to punish her for making him cum so quickly. This made her sphincter tighten and squeeze his cock. However, he felt that the red-headed slut was purposely milking him. He growled in anger and slapped her round ass again, and again, and again. Then he felt the semen begin to boil inside his balls. He pulled out a bit then slammed in, pulled out and then slammed in, and again, feeling her body weaken with each successive thrust. If her mouth weren't buried in that cunt, he thought, she'd be screaming for me to stop!

It was all Jodie could do to keep from biting down on Monica's juicy quim as she rocked through another orgasm. Then she heard Monica's ragged breathing replaced by a long, mewl of pleasure, and she knew she was close to completion. Increasing her efforts, delving her tongue in the girl's warm hole then up her slit to kiss and suck her clit, then down again. She finally felt Monica's hands tighten into her hair and her hips shuddered, shaking the table. With a satisfied certainty she knew the girl had climaxed. With this task completed she lifted her wet face from Monica's pussy to gasp for breath and enjoy the cock in her ass.

Imagining the red-head screaming for him to stop, made Paul smile, and he buried his dick into her to the hilt. He squeezed her round ass cheeks with both hands, and snarled aloud as his cock erupted inside the teen's virgin ass.

Jodie felt Paul thrusting madly before putting his weight on her ass. She felt his hands dig into her ass quite painfully, and heard him began to growl in some sort of savage triumph. She knew what was coming next, and who.

And then it happened. Like a fire hydrant released of its cap, his cock gushed forth an explosion of cum. She felt hot liquid swim up her insides, and she gasped and panted her way through another orgasm of her own. But his orgasm didn't seem to subside. Another deposit of sticky cum spurted inside her, then nothing... but then one more.

Eventually it stopped, and without any ceremony whatsoever, Paul pulled his shrinking dick out of her cum-drenched ass, slapped her butt again, and stood back.

Jodie felt an emptiness in her ass, and then hot liquid streaming down over her pussy and soaking her red pubic hair, before dripping to the floor. Maybe I would do this again, she thought.

---

Michelle's day had passed in a foggy state of awareness. It was like a waking dream, and everything seemed fuzzy and unreal. The only time she felt real at all, in fact, was when she remembered the fucking she'd gotten the night before from the incubus.

Several of her friends had called her during the course of the day to see if she wanted to hang out. She turned all of them down. Instead she watched television, and when that began to anger and upset her, she locked herself in her room and began to masturbate. Only she couldn't get off, but that was okay, as just the act of frigging made her feel more normal.

And now she was laying in bed, not asleep, but not really awake either. At nine 'o clock her parents had tucked her in and turned off her lights.

That was three hours ago.

And still Michelle just laid there in this waking dream, thinking about what had happened to her, about what may happen still. She lay on her side with a thin white sheet pulled up to her chin. Her eyes were closed as if trying to sleep, or pretending to sleep. That was when she heard the door to her room creek open.

She didn't look up, but her heart began racing. The fogginess in her head began to slowly clear as she imagined the incubus sneaking into her room for a quick late-night fuck.

But why would a demon need to use the door? she thought.

Finally there was silence, but she knew the door must be at least half-way open now. She laid still, breathing slowly as if in sleep.

She wanted desperately to open her eyes and see what was going on, but at the same time she somehow knew she shouldn't. She listened intently.

The only sound was the ticking of her clock, and the distant howling of the summer wind.

And then she heard footsteps. They were the kind of steps people took when they didn't want to be heard, like when you sneak up on someone. The door closed next, creaking slowly to a stop. Little Michelle's breathing quickened, and she furrowed her brow as if she were having a bad dream.

The footsteps continued, but still Michelle couldn't bring herself to look.

She was terrified, frozen, the fogginess in her head lifted in one instant, as if something wanted her to know this sudden terror.

Then the footsteps ceased.

Michelle's heart was pounding so hard she was certain whoever now stood above her could hear it.

Suddenly someone was slowly on the bed next to her, so incredibly slowly she hardly noticed at first, sitting on the edge so lightly as if not to wake the young girl from her slumber. A sudden wave of courage flashed through Michelle's mind, and she imagined herself jumping up and screaming, but the thought disappeared as quickly as it had formulated.

Someone was now sitting next to her. But who... and why?

An unbearably long minute or two passed in complete silence. So silent, in fact, Michelle began to question whether or not she'd been dreaming .

Then she felt the sheet which covered her body, slowly peeled back and away. Goosebumps instantly covered her shoulders, from chill or terror, as the sheet was pulled past her heaving chest, past her stomach, past her waist, and finally down to her knees. She was only wearing a t-shirt and underwear, and felt herself trembling, She wondered if this stranger could tell she was awake, or if he just assumed she was having a nightmare.

This is a nightmare, she thought desperately.

And then she felt a rough hand placed itself lightly on her outer thigh.

She held her breath, a thousand thoughts going through her head at once.

The hand didn't move. It simply laid there, lightly, as if afraid she'd jump away. She almost did, but all the strength had gone out of her body. And so the hand rested there, warm and sweating against her cool skin, until her breathing continued.

Then the hand began sliding up her thigh.

When it reached her hip, and the waistband of her panties, it stopped again. Strangely, Michelle began to relax. Her heart-rate slowed, and she even began to breath more evenly, as if in some odd way she believed the worst was over.

But it wasn't.

A moment later the hand slid a bit back down her outer thigh, and made its way over the front of her thigh, until it pressed between her legs. She was still laying on her side with one leg against the other, but the hand forced itself slowly between the teenager's thighs, only inches below her pussy.

When the hand began sliding up,  she once again held her breath.

And when she felt the side of the hand lightly brush her panty-covered slit, she gasped and uncontrollably jumped, rolling over and opening her eyes to see the stranger who was sitting on her bed. A look of serene guilt was on his face.

"Daddy?" Michelle's voice wavered.

"Did I wake you?" he said.

She didn't know how to reply. She moved herself away from her father, pushing her body up and back into the corner of her bed. She reached down and pulled the thin white sheet up to her chin again.

Michelle stared at her dad with wide eyes, watering in fear, her lower lip trembling as she was trying to think of something to say. There was something weird about the look in his eyes.

Her father stood, and stared down at her.

Moonlight shone through the window, the only illumination in the room, highlighting the teenager's shrouded body in a tranquil glow.

Her father turned away slowly, and walked back to the door, mumbling as he did, "Just wanted to check on you."

Michelle's heart was thudding violently in her chest. She was still scared, but calmed down somewhat when he reached the door, certain now he was leaving.

But then he stopped.

He didn't turn, but when his hand reached the doorknob he froze, as if trying to gather up some kind of courage.

"Daddy?" she asked in a tiny voice.

He turned back to her.

They stared at each other across the room for a long minute before he finally said, "I wanted to talk to you." His voice was even.

His daughter managed to nod her head.

He took a step forward. "I found something in your drawer this afternoon," he said, voice still emotionless.

She froze, unable to say anything. Instantly she knew what he had found. The pictures! she thought.

"Daddy, I..." Her mind raced for an explanation.

"Do you want to tell me what the you were doing with pornographic pictures?" he asked, voice rising a bit.

She didn't know what to say. Her pale face flushed red in embarrassment and uncertainty.

He took another step towards her. "You're sixteen years old," he said in a low, controlled voice.

"I'm... I'm sorry," she began in a shaky tone.

"Sorry?" he repeated sarcastically. "You're sorry?" He stared at her coldly. "How many boys have you fucked?"

"What!" she gasped.

He was now at the edge of her bed, staring down at her menacingly. She couldn't remember ever seeing her father this angry before. "I asked you a question! How many!"

She shook her head, pushing herself further back into the corner of her bed against the wall. "I've never, I..."

"Don't lie to me," he said softly.

Suddenly he reached forward and grabbed her by the shoulders and began to shake her. "How many!" he snarled.

She was crying now, sobbing uncontrollably. "I haven't!!!"

He gave her one last good shake then let go.

She fell back onto the bed and instantly curled up into a fetal position, covering her face with her arms and whimpering over and over, "I haven't, I haven't!"

Her father stared down at her. "My little girl," he mumbled. Suddenly he grabbed her by the arm and screamed, "Whore!"

She blubbered something but couldn't make any coherent words. Without warning her father suddenly slapped her hard across the face and yelled, "Lying whore! How many 'ave you fucked!"

She reeled back from the blow and her body went limp except to shake violently with her tears.

"Be quiet!" he yelled.

But she couldn't. Her mind was racing with the memories of the previous night, about church, about the last time her dad and her had gone out for ice cream. She'd never been slapped before, and the shock of it was almost too much to bare.

"That's it!" he yelled.

Suddenly he grabbed her by the waist and picked her off the bed and plopped down on the mattress. He threw her over his lap and placed his hand on her backside, and with the other roughly pulled down her panties. "I'll teach you to lie, I'll teach you..."

"Oh no, Daddy, No!" Michelle screamed.

She flailed about helplessly on his lap, legs kicking until her panties reached her knees, her bare ass now open for his inspection. She knew instinctively what was coming, although she hadn't received a spanking since she was six or seven. She cried even louder, her thick blonde hair flying back and forth.

He looked down at her bare ass and froze, his one hand pulled back ready to deliver her punishment. It was a nice ass, and the image of it made his mind reel. And then, suddenly, his eyes widened again in anger and he swung down hard on his daughter's behind.

"Ahhhh!" Michelle screamed.

The sudden sting of his hand on her ass was worse than she had braced herself for. She flailed about with even more energy.

It was all he could do to keep his daughter from wriggling her way off his lap. "Lying whore!" he screamed.

He smacked his hand down on her rear once again, transfixed at the way her round butt jiggled when his hand met her flesh.

With this second blow the wind was knocked out of her and her body went limp. She continued sobbing, blubbering, "I didn't," as dreadful seconds passed the next blow.

And then another smack came. With this one, her father felt his cock growing hard.

He slapped down again, noticing finally as her ass began to grow red from his blows. He was hitting her with tremendous force, all the anger and perverted passion within being taken out on her round butt.

"Whore, whore, whore!" he yelled, smacking down on her again, then again.

"Ahhhhhh!" she wailed, the pain increasing with each successive blow. Her stomach was aching, her head spinning, and she could feel her ass was hot and stinging. The pain from the blows sent shockwaves through her body.

And then she saw the door to her room open, and she managed to catch her breath. She stared at the door as he did, and saw her mother standing at the threshold, frozen in shock at what she saw.

"What...," she began.

"Go back to bed, woman!" her husband commanded her in a stern voice.

"Fred?" she gaped at her husband.

"Mom!!!" Michelle cried, struggling again to free herself from her father's hold.

"I said leave!" he yelled at her.

"Mom, don't! Please, no, I haven't done--" Michelle cried, reaching one hand out imploringly towards her mother.

"Quiet!" he father screamed at her, smashing his palm down on her rear-end once more.

Michelle saw her mother take a step backwards. "No!" she blubbered, crying spastically.

But then her mother was closing the door, her eyes locked with her daughter's.

Once again she was alone with her dad.

"Fucking slut," her father growled. He slapped her ass again. "You're a whore... don't lie to me... whore!"

All resistance seemed to flush out of her body with her mother's departure, and she was limp again. She was still crying from pain and humiliation as her father spanked her, all of it made worse by the fact her mom had done nothing to stop it.

And the pain was intense. It rocked her body and sent her mind into a downward spiral of despair. Her throat was coarse from screaming and crying, her body slick with cold sweat, so then just before her father could hit her ass again she said, "I'm sorry!"

He paused. "You're what!"

She squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm a whore!"

He looked down at her limp body laying in his lap, his chest heaving. "I knew it," he nodded, arm still extended.

She was sobbing in relief as seconds passed without another blow.

Then she felt his hand on her swollen ass, but it was a gentle touch. She continued sobbing breathlessly.

He rubbed her ass, entranced at what he had down with it. His cock was stiffening now, as he ran his hand over her butt, petting it. Then he took her gently into his arms, stood, and placed her down on her bed. She curled up away from her father, crying softly into the mattress. He watched her young form there, cowering away from him, her ass still pointed at him.

He watched her like this for a couple minutes as his heart raced excitedly.

"Michelle," he said softly to her, finally.

She didn't respond. She just wanted to hide from him, to go to sleep, to escape this nightmare. Her whole body ached, especially her ass. She wanted him to leave.

"Michelle," he said in a more commanding voice. "Look at me."

She buried her face deeper into the mattress for a moment, as if she could pretend to be asleep even though she was crying. Then the memories of his anger, and her spanking, coursed through her so she turned and looked at him.

He was naked. His cock was hard and pointed at her, his arms at his sides. He was looking down at her with the strangest expression pf compassion mixed with desire.

She just stared back, eyes wide and pleading, slightly shaking her head in disbelief.

The next thing she knew he was laying next to her in the bed. Her back was to him, and she put her face firmly into the mattress, heart beginning to race painfully. She felt the goosebumps form on her body as the fearful realization of what he was going to do dawned on her.

He placed his right hand gently on her hip as he stared down into her face. Her eyes were clenched tight, and he several tears trickled down from them. Once in a while she would gasp to catch her breath, but other than that she remained motionless.

Soon his fingers were tracing their way up and down her ass-crack ever so lightly. And then he gently slid his hand between her thighs. At this, she did something unexpected. She didn't even know exactly why she did it. Perhaps it was the shock of it all making her act strange, or perhaps somewhere deep inside she just wanted to get it over with. But without any coercion on his part, she lifted one leg off the other and turned her lower body over. In an instant she had gone from having the protection of being on her side with her legs together, to laying on her stomach, legs spread apart so that her lower body was exposed to him.

Without the resistance of the clenched thighs, her father now placed his palm firmly between her legs. He rubbed two fingers gently along her vulva. He stared transfixed at her unmoving body, at her red ass, and his hand which had disappeared underneath her.

And she wasn't crying anymore. She was lost now in her mind, only vaguely aware, as one of his fingers found her hole and began to press against it. Again she shocked herself, when she slowly began to slide her knees forward, one at a time, inching her ass into the air until she was kneeling and hunched over. In effect, she had just given him complete access her tender ass and pussy.

Her father, meanwhile, wasn't surprised at how she acted. He was pleased, in an embarrassing sort of way, a little confused, but otherwise acted as if this was all very natural. His daughter was on her knees for him. He pressed his finger more firmly against her dry hole until it slid inside. He watched for a reaction from his daughter, any kind of reaction... but there was none.

"You like this," he whispered to her plainly.

She didn't respond. Her upper body was still pressed against the mattress, her head hidden between her forearms. She was so quiet, in fact, she could have been sleeping.

But she wasn't. She was distantly aware of everything that was transpiring, and her father was wrong: she was not enjoying it. She wasn't dreading it anymore, either. She simply didn't feel anything.

When he moved onto the bed and knelt behind his daughter, his finger had slid in and out of her pussy about twenty times. Ten minutes of this had passed, in fact, until he could see her slit had grown slick with her wetness and his finger was shiny with her juices.

Still she didn't move, not to protest or to encourage him.

Finally he pulled his finger out and gripped his cock.

Michelle felt her father's cockhead being pressed against her tight hole, and the sensation brought her back into reality somewhat, but not enough to alleviate the state of shock she was in. All was quiet in the room save the heavy breathing of her father. She wasn't making any sounds at all. When the head of his dick finally popped into her wet cunt, she exhaled softly.

He marveled at the feeling of her tightness and he slowly pushed his cock into her from behind. When it didn't meet any resistance he knew for a fact he'd been right, and that she was a whore. Otherwise, where was her hymen, her virginity? What he was doing, was okay then. She had given herself to another. She was a whore.

She felt every inch of her father's cock pushing into her. When his pubic hairs pressed against her sensitive red ass cheeks, she knew his entire cock was inside her. Her vagina felt stuffed, like when the incubus took her... fucked her. Involuntarily, her inner muscles squeezed her father's cock, as if stroking it. Her chest and her face felt hot. This was the first human cock she had ever experienced. It was her dad's cock, and it felt amazing.

When his daughter's pussy clenched his cock, sucking it in, holding him, then he knew she had experienced sex with a boy. Probably several times now. He breathed heavily, and said, "You're a slut... my daughter the slut."

She was breathing evenly, and even though he spanked her hard, she knew her father loved her and would not hurt her. A calmness filled her, displacing the fear. The heat in her face and chest flowed down her body until she could feel her belly and pussy get hotter. Strange thoughts were going through her head, thoughts like, "I wonder if Mom ever got it like this doggystyle," and "I wonder if you can get pregnant from your own dad?"

Slowly he pulled his hard penis out of his daughter's wet sheath, watching her tight pussy lips grasping at his glistening shaft, until just the head remained. He gazed at the curve of his daughter's hips, and her round, red ass. She wasn't a girl anymore. He sighed loudly as he slowly pushed his dick back into her with one long thrust. His hands were firmly on her hips, gripping her as she gripped him with her pussy. He continued doing this, slowly and rhythmically sliding his dick in and out of her young quim while she knelt there unresisting.

This went on for several minutes. He was fucking his daughter so slowly that, despite the fact he'd felt near orgasm since he'd laid down next to her, he did not feel his climax surging yet.

Her legs were cramping up, but she didn't much care. After all, her ass still hurt so bad it seemed insignificant by comparison. She wanted it to be over. She wanted so much for it to be over she began to actually squeeze her cuntal walls around his cock when it was inside her in that hope he'd finally cum. But he didn't. He kept sighing, breathing hard, gasping at the sensation of his daughter's tight pussy.

Defeated, desperate, finally she whimpered. "Just finish!"

Still he kept fucking her at that slow pace. He slid his hands up to her waist and held her there, pulling her back so he could press his dick more fully into her. He looked at her back, her shirt was clinging to her sweaty body.

Suddenly, he wanted to see her tits.

"Take it off," he panted.

At first she didn't know what he meant. She was in a state of utter confusion and shock.

"Take it off," he repeated.

Realization dawned on her, that he meant her shirt. Without even thinking about refusing, she gripped her shirt and wiggled her shoulders, and managed to pull the up and over her head. Her blonde hair popped free of the shirt, and fell forward, framing her face like a curtain and exposing her neck.

His eyes traced the back of her smooth neck, and shoulders and the curve of her waist that spread out to her hips. No, his daughter was no girl anymore. She was a whore. But he could only see her back so, he stopped and pulled his cock out. "Roll over." he ordered.

She did not pause to consider anything but his command. Michelle rolled onto her side and then onto her back. She brought one leg up and over to place on his other side. He gripped that leg by the ankle and moved it to his other side before putting her leg down. She spread her knees, and he could finally get a good look at his daughter.

Her eyes were closed, her body limp. Her small breasts had puffy, pink nipples, and her pubic hair was golden like her hair. He moved between her thighs and positioned the head of his wet cock at her entrance again. He pressed the head inside and then used both hands to lift her legs, rotating her hips up slightly. He watched his cock disappear as he pushed it into his daughter again, slowly.

Michelle's eyes remained closed and her arms lay limp at her sides. Her small breasts jiggled with each thrust of his organ as her dad fucked her. Her lips were moving soundlessly.

"What?" he gasped.

"Just finish," she said.

There was even more reason for her to want him to finish now. In this new position his pelvis was pressing against her clit with every inward thrust, sending orgasmic currents through her body in tandem. She was utterly disgusted and humiliated with herself. I don't want to cum! she thought to herself desperately. But she was heading in that direction.

"Ohhhh," her father sighed.

Michelle wouldn't look at him. Her eyes were still closed and head turned away. But he noticed how her breathing had changed, and this excited him even more.

He resisted the urge to speed up his thrusts, and continued pummeling her slowly.

"Please..." she pleaded softly to her dad.

"What, honey?" he panted. He placed his hands on her tits and began to squeeze them. "What?"

"Oh..." she whimpered. The combination of his fucking and her tits being massaged was too much. "Please...."

"Look at me," he said, sliding in and out of her still.

"No, please..." she sobbed. But she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"You want me to cum?" he asked.

"Yes... please finish."

"Not until you do," he huffed.

"Dad, no!" she argued.

But she knew it was going to happen. She could feel it, with every thrust of his cock she drew nearer to orgasm. Her body trembled, not in fear, but in anticipation of climax. It was at this point that she involuntarily began to hump her hips back at her father in time with his thrusts, bringing him deeper inside of her. The pleasure in her vagina and against her clit overwhelmed the throbbing of her swollen ass.

He looked down at his daughter heatedly, marveling at the way her body was beginning to push back in unison with him. It took him a moment to realize that her panting was no longer from tears, but from sexual heat. Her eyes were still closed but her thin-lipped mouth was now agape in a serene look of ecstasy.

She didn't mean to, but Michelle placed her hands on her father's hips. She held his hips as she writhed underneath him. The pummeling continued as his dick drove into her repeatedly, quicker now than before. Her mind felt as if it had cracked wide open, and all sorts of humiliating thoughts were let loose. She heard herself moaning, unable to control it, as she ground her hips up onto her father's hard cock. Her whole body was shaking orgasmically, and every time he squeezed her puffy tits in his hands, she would gasp in wanton pleasure.

"Whore... you little slut... my daughter...," her father was panting. "You want it... you want me to fuck you?"

She didn't reply. She couldn't. She could only gasp breathlessly as wave after wave of pre-orgasmic pleasure coursed through her young body. Suddenly she felt him begin to pinch her puffy nipples. The new sensation drove her deeper into the carnality she was experiencing.

"Tell me... uh... tell me...," her father panted, pinching her nipples each time his cock was inside her to the root.

"Fuh... fuh...," his daughter replied, "Fuck me!"

"You want me to fuck you?" he asked, grinding his pelvis against her clit.

"Yes!... Yes!" Michelle cried, eyes opening wide as her father impaled her. She pushed her hips at him as he thrust into her, so that he was deeper in her than he'd yet been. She could feel his cock pressed up against the top of her vagina..

"Fucking... whore!" he cried, fucking her rapidly now, slamming in and out of her hard and fast. "Fucking... slut... daughter..."

"Ffuck me... fuck me!" she cried.

Michelle dug her nails into his waist and wrapped her legs around her father's hips. The pain and terror of just minutes before. was gone now, gone with the rest of her, and replaced by nothing but uncontrollable, insatiable lust.

And then her body tensed up, and couldn't keep from screaming, a low guttural sound from the back of her throat, as she her orgasm exploded. Suddenly her whole body felt like one big electrical outlet, and her father's dick was the plug. She dug her heels into his ass, pulling him tightly to her, forcing him as deep as possible. She was crying incoherent things about God and sex as she shuddered through wave after wave of painful orgasm.

When Michelle felt his cock slam into her again and stop, and his body tensed up, she knew he was about to pour his seed into her. She continued crying out in pleasure and repulsion as her father grunted, and then she felt his cock lurch inside her and spurt the first strand of hot semen.

The next twitch and burst of hot cum inside her, pushed her into another orgasm. And the same happened when the cock jerked a third time and more hot liquid filled her. When he finally stopped gushing out his sperm into his daughter, she cried out, "Yes!... Yes!" She felt her pussy was filled with her father's gooey cum, the same seed she'd been conceived with sixteen years before.

Finally his body quite literally collapsed on hers.

Michelle didn't care, she was spent, too.

The couple breathed heavily together, father and daughter, his shrinking dick still inside her, and her puffy breasts mashed against his hairy chest. She mewed softly in his ear as an aftershock of orgasm made her hips quiver. And then she lost consciousness.

---

Jodie returned home at about two o'clock in the morning.

Her body ached from the fucking she'd received at Dirk's, but she was already beginning to recover. By morning, she knew, she'd be fine.

She tip-toed up the stairs and listened carefully at her sister's door. Had her plan worked? Had the demon kept his promise? She wondered.

Suddenly the door opened, and Jodie stepped back, surprised.

Her father was standing there, a look of exhaustion on his face. He didn't notice his older daughter at first... but he did, and he froze.

"Jodie..." he began, unsure what to say.

The witch struggled not to smile. "Is everything okay?" she asked, voice full of concern.

Her dad blinked slowly, then looked over his shoulder into the bedroom. He stepped forward and closed the door behind him. Then, guiltily he said, "Yes... Go to bed."

He was already slowly walking back to his own room.

She watched him go, overjoyed. It worked! she thought. The demon came through!

Jodie watched her parent's bedroom door close and waited for the sound of the click. Then she slowly opened her younger sister's door and slipped into the room. The sweaty stench of sex was in the air, and Jodie inhaled deeply, smiling as she did. She walked over to the mattress and looked down at Michelle.

She lay on her back and was asleep, or at least appeared to be. She was also naked. A small pool of sticky cum had formed between her legs on the mattress. Michelle's sweaty body gleamed in the moonlight.

Jodie couldn't help but reach for her sister's puffy pink nipple and cup her hand over it. She squeezed and twisted it slowly between her fingers, searching Michelle's face for a response.

None came.

She let go. Nice tits, the witch thought. Last time she'd sister naked she hadn't had them yet. They were going to fill out as big as hers. Jodie smiled.

"Oh, what did Dad do to you?" Jodie giggled. She stepped back. "It's not over yet, sis," she whispered then, her voice suddenly sinister and imposing. "Not by a long shot."

And then Jodie slipped out of Michelle's bedroom.

To Be Continued?

---