Sex and Demons - The Girl in the Silver Cage

Prologue

“I’d like to undress you, if that’s okay,” I said.

“Mmm, I’d like that,” Charlotte said, sliding into my arms and pressing her back to my chest. I wrapped one arm around her waist, and used the other to move her dirty blond hair aside so I could kiss her neck. She responded by grinding her ass into my crotch.

“By the way,” I said, “I don’t need the fantasy. I’m comfortable with this just being what it is.” I unzipped her dress and peeled it from her shoulders, enjoying my first feel of her breasts. They were a good size, and nicely shaped, but age had taken some toll. They sagged a little, and her areolae were large and faded. They were fine breasts, but they were a 38-year-old’s breasts.

“That’s cool,” she said. “But don’t be surprised if I come anyway. I enjoy my job - especially when my client is handsome and polite like you.”

I let her dress go, and ran my hands up and down her curves. I spun her around and dropped to my knees, nuzzling her crotch with my nose while fingering the edges of her pink panties. The smell of her cunt made me hard. When I pulled my face away, I could see the contours of her sex through the fabric.

“Am I allowed to lick you?” I asked. I could feel the heat coming from her pussy.

“Only a taste,” Charlotte replied. I pulled her panties to the floor and took my sip of her savory sex.

I stood back up again and took off my clothes, while Charlotte pulled the bedspread off the motel bed.

“Have you thought about how you want it, James?” She asked.

“They say you’re really good with your hands, so let’s start there,” I said. “But I’d like to finish with Cowgirl.” I lay on the bed, and she sat beside me, touching me. One hand was on my cock, getting things started, but the other was stroking my stomach and chest.

If you really want the best experience from a call girl, pick an older one. One pussy is pretty much the same as any other - at least among humans. An 18-year-old’s body is nice to look at, of course, but that’s more important when she’s dancing on a pole. A woman who has survived for a decade or two in this business knows things - what do to with her hands, and with her mouth, and how to read a client. She also knows a lot about who else works in her city - but the interview would come later.

Charlotte squeezed my cock, and ran her hand up and down it a few times, as it testing it, deciding what techniques to use. Finally she let a ball of spit slowly drip from her mouth onto my head, her eyes locked on mine, and then she began her work in earnest. What she did to me wasn’t the clumsy jerking of a high school girl; it was nuanced. Her fingers changed their pressure individually, moving up and down from tip to stem on every stroke. Her fingers created a ribbed friction against my crown, but her fist was jerking my shaft as well. Her hands moved like a musician’s.

“Do you want me to tell you what I’m going to do to you, in a few minutes?” Charlotte said. “Do you want to hear about how I’m going to take your cock into my cunt? How I’m going to slam my body down onto your dick, over and over, forcing it deep inside of me? Do you want to hear about how wet it’s making me, touching you like this?” I just lay back, closed my eyes and groaned.

She kept working her hand up and down my cock, somehow combining what I had always thought of as separate techniques into one. “Are you eager to come? Are your glands bursting, ready to rocket out your seed? Are your balls sore from holding so much sperm?” She put her free hand on my belly, halfway between my bellybutton and my dick, and pressed in. My body ached with the need to come, and I groaned again.

She stopped rubbing my cock a few seconds later, knowing I was near climax. She caressed my chest and nibbled on my neck, briefly, to give me time to cool down, and then she unwrapped a condom from her purse and unrolled it onto my rod, with a devilish smile. She took position over me, and soon she was swallowing my cock with her cunt.

We locked our fingers together as she pounded me. I watched her breasts bounce. I watched her thighs tighten and relax. I watched her pussy, trying to understand the wet sucking sound our bodies were making together. But mostly I watched her eyes, looking back at me with lust and joy. I was ready, again; soon I would come.

“Mmm, fucking you is a treat, James,” Charlotte said. She changed her movements a little, adding a tilt to her hips at the end of every stroke. “Oh that’s doing it for me. Oh yeah, that’s my G-spot. Oh, I’m going to come.” I tried to hold back, but I couldn’t - her last round of dirty talk opened the flood gates for me. “That’s it, James,” she said, grinding on me through my orgasm. “Shoot it inside me. Fill me up. Give it all to me.” My contractions shook through my body as I emptied my come into the rubber and felt the warm liquid pooling around my cock head.

“You said you had some questions for me, once we were done?” Charlotte asked, after I cleaned up. I had promised her extra money if she had information I needed.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m looking for a girl - probably a call girl, but maybe a dancer or something. Pretty, blond, beer-commercial body, about twenty ... with wings and a tail.”

“Some kind of costume?” She asked. She knew something.

“Yeah, but a really good costume.”

“And why are you looking for this woman?” Charlotte asked, cautiously. Good - she’s selective about who she gives information to.

“She was my friend - and my first - back home,” I explained. Charlotte studied my face intently, looking for signs of deception. “She said to come find her when I was ready to leave town. She had to leave in a hurry and change her identity. That was when I was sixteen.”

Charlotte relaxed, content with my explanation. “I never met her,” she said, “but there was talk of an independent girl playing the hipster demon angle. It drove Darryl nuts - people were always calling asking for her and he had to say that she wasn’t one of his. Rumor is a number of managers tried to recruit her, and the ones who were pushy about it regretted it. No idea what that means.”

I was excited to have a lead. “How long ago was that? Any idea where she is now?”

“Rumor is she went West - Sacramento or San Francisco - but that’s just a rumor. She was here for about six months. She left, I don’t know, probably ten months ago.”

“Thanks, Charlotte,” I said. “It’s been a pleasure, and that info is very helpful. If I had any friends who could afford you, I would definitely send them your way.” I paid her - her normal rate, plus two hundred for the information.

“You’re a sweetheart!” She said, and kissed me on the forehead before letting herself out.

Everything I had told her was true, except the part about the costume. The woman I had known as Alison was an actual demon, and her wings and tail were real. I had spent two years trying to forget her and move on with my life, and then when that failed, another year trying to save money to come look for her. I got lucky when a collector bought Alison’s panties from me. After the massacre, I had pocketed them for my own sentimental perversions before the police arrived. Who knew there was a market for used succubus underwear? The sale gave me enough money to spend years looking for her, if necessary. I spent two months in Las Vegas, and then another three in Los Angeles following a bad lead. I went back to Vegas for another three months after that, which eventually lead me to Reno, and to Charlotte.

---

Chapter 1

That night, Alison came to me in a dream. She was in a silver cage, naked, crouched like an animal. Her wings and tail added to her predator aspect, but she was also a beautiful woman, in trouble. I don’t remember much, but I know that she told me she needed me. She told me to come to Manresa, California. She said I should get a job - something that will let me meet people - and to wait for her to contact me again. The next day I drove there. The day after that I rented an apartment. The day after that, I got a job at a deli.

Manresa was a small Northern California town surrounded by a handful of wineries and orchards. It was a nice place, full of character. The deli that I worked at was on the central town square, and it gave me a good opportunity to meet people. That’s not something that comes naturally to me, but I made it a point to try. I had the feeling that it was important to Alison’s plan.

Of course it was easiest to get to know the people my age: recent high school graduates - the ones who hadn’t gone off to college and were now begrudgingly joining the working world. Most of them talked about where they would move, once they had some money saved up. I was something of a mystery, having chosen to move to the town that they dreamed of fleeing.

It was a slow rainy day when I met Clover and Sarah. They came in for sandwiches, and we chatted while I pretended to clean near them. They had just come a movie, and we talked at length about how it had differed from the comic.

That night I left the windows open as I fell asleep to the sound of rain, and Alison came to me in my dreams again.

She was in her cage, in a basement. The cage was made out of twisted strands of silver wire. It was too short to stand up in, but big enough to afford some comfort, sitting. Moonlight streamed in through a window. I would have expected Alison to be distraught, but instead she was happy.

“So what do you think of Clover?” Alison asked excitedly.

“Clover?” I asked, a bit confused. “I like her. She’s different.”

“She’s super-cute, huh?” Alison went on. “And nice. And she likes the same music as you.”

“Well, yeah...” I stammered. “Alison, what’s going on?”

Alison’s face got serious again. “I’ve been captured by a coven,” she said. “It’s really just Clover, her mother, and grandmother, but they’re organized. I don’t know what they have planned for me, but I think it’s going to be bad. Whatever it is, it’ll happen at the winter solstice.”

She shifted to sit more comfortably. God she was beautiful. My eyes traced the curves from her naked back, to her butt, to her thighs, over and over. Sometimes when she moved I could see some side-boob that kept derailing my thoughts.

“I need you to take Clover’s virginity,” Alison said. “Or rather, I need her to give it to you. I need her to fall in love with you, and forsake her chastity. That will weaken the coven’s spell enough for me to break free.”

I frowned. “Alison, I would do anything for you. But make a girl fall in love with me? You’ve got the wrong guy. I’m not someone that girls fall in love with.”

“Believe me, James, you are!” She said. “I ... You’re a romantic, James. Just get to know her. Don’t force it. See what happens. Anyway, you’re off to a good start. Tonight in the bathtub she made her self come with the shower head while thinking of you. That’s the first time she masturbated in all the time I’ve been trapped in this house.”

The dream started to break apart - I knew it was ending, somehow. Alison did, too. “James, when you sleep from now on, leave the curtains open. I can only reach you if I have a moonlight bridge!”

The next day, Clover and Sarah came in for sandwiches again. Clover blushed a little when Sarah pushed her into talking to me while I made their subs. You wouldn’t choose the word beautiful for Clover, but it wouldn’t be wrong to describe her as stunningly, breathtakingly cute. She had short strawberry-blond hair, held out of her face with a hair clip. Her eyes were Lake Tahoe blue, and she had a light sprinkling of freckles on her nose and cheeks. I couldn’t tell much about her upper body through her baggy sweatshirt, but her legs were smooth and sexy.

Twice more she came to the deli for lunch - late enough to avoid the rush so we could talk. On my day off I visited her at the plant nursery where she worked. She knew obscure traditions and folk medicine about every flower and tree in the store.

In time I got a better feeling for the shape of Clover’s body, despite the fact that she continued to dress modestly. She was a bit curvier than most girls our age: her breasts were fuller, her hips were wider, and her waist cut a little bit deeper. Something about her screamed “fertility”. Pregnancy had always been the enemy. I certainly wasn’t ready to have children - I still considered myself kid, for the most part. Still, sometimes looking at Clover’s hips would stir up primal urges in me.

She beat me to the punch, asking me out on our first date: it was the high school’s production of the Twelfth Night, and Sarah’s sister was playing the part of Viola. I tickled Clover’s bare feet in the park afterward, completely intoxicated by the closeness we were feeling for each other. Things went wrong when I stopped to examine her ankle tattoo. It was five different flowers, whose stems wove together in the center in a Celtic knotwork design. She pulled her foot away when I touched it.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “It’s beautiful.”

“I don’t like it,” Clover said defensively. “I don’t want to talk about it.” The date ended there. I was up all night, exhilarated by what an incredible time I’d had, and terrified at the prospect of never having another like it.

The next day we got ice cream together and everything was fine. We didn’t talk about her tattoo. A few days later we went bowling, and held hands. Shortly after that, we dressed up for a fancy dinner out. She wore a dress that made my heart skip a beat, with a flower in her hair. When I leaned in to smell the flower, we shared our first kiss.

After a concert in Sacramento was the first time I felt Clover up. We were in my car, kissing, waiting for the traffic to lighten up, when I slipped my hand under her shirt and touched her belly. Her whole body froze. “Is this all right?” I asked.

“Yes,” Clover answered, that one syllable resonating with vulnerability. Her breath was shallow as I touched the smooth skin over her ribs. I kissed her neck just under her ear, and ran my fingers through her hair, while my other hand explored the safe zones under her shirt. She relaxed as she grew accustomed to my touch.

“May I touch your boob?” I asked. Clover nodded. The fabric of her bra was rough compared to the soft feeling of her skin, but the shape was enticing. She cooed as I mapped out her contours. She gasped when I found her nipple and gave it a light squeeze through the bra. And when my hand reached the top of her bra and followed her cleavage like an alpine skier, she pressed her knees together tightly.

We stopped there. A part of me certainly wanted to peel off her shirt, pull down her bra, and bury her nipple in my mouth. That wouldn’t have been right for Clover - not yet - and I knew that.

On the drive home to Manresa, Clover made a confession. “James, have you talked to the other kids about me?”

“No. Why?”

“I’m ... the town prude,” she told me. “Everyone I grew up with knows it. I’m saving myself for marriage. Waiting is important to me - to my whole family, in fact.” She waited for my reaction.

“That’s cool,” I said. “Although if they actually call you that, that’s pretty dickish.”

She went on: “I just ... I know it’s a lot to ask of a guy you’re with - to not have sex. And I do want to be with you. Just not like that. I thought I needed to tell you before things went too far.”

I put my hand on her knee. “Clover, I would love to explore your body, and help you learn all of the wonderful things it’s capable of. But I can live without that. Sex is fun, but it’s commonplace. The feeling I get when I’m with you? That’s exceptional. Amazing. Worth keeping at any cost.” She smiled.

We didn’t say anything for a while, but then Clover broke the silence, teasing, “So just how ‘commonplace’ is sex for you?”

“I’ve been around,” I said sheepishly. “But I’ve never had anything like this before.”

---

Chapter 2

As the days went on, Clover and I kept spending time together - no small amount of which was in my apartment. Our make-out sessions frequently involved petting above the waist. I started to think of her as my girlfriend - although I don’t know if we had said those words yet - and I largely forgot about my mission from Alison. Certainly my main reason for seeing Clover wasn’t subterfuge: it was the burning light of joy inside me that I felt whenever she was around.

Our next milestone came after several days of watching her play Grand Theft Auto 5 on my laptop. She had been reluctant to try the game at first, but she quickly embraced the gun-shooting, reckless-driving, ambulance-stealing world it offered. When she figured out how to pick up a prostitute in the game, she went through the streetwalker’s entire menu of services, captivated by the bouncing car and the orgasmy dialog of her avatar. Then she pulled me to the bed and kissed me ferociously.

“You’ve got a little bad girl in you, don’t you?” I asked as I pulled off her shirt and kissed the top of her breast.

“I do!” She said, digging her hands into my hair. “And I keep her locked up so tight. But lately she has been making such a racket trying to get out.” Briefly I thought of Alison in her cage, but then Clover pushed my head deeper into her cleavage and I was back in the moment.

I placed my hand on her thigh, and to my surprise her knees moved apart. I knew it was time. She smiled at me silently as I unbuttoned and unzipped her shorts, and tugged them off of her. I moved my hands all over her panties, and the hips and thighs surrounding them. I teased the edges - all of them - with my fingers. We both knew what would happen next, but there was no hurry. Finally I pulled her panties down, leaving them hanging around one ankle.

“God, Clover, you have a beautiful pussy,” I said, reaching out to stroke her outer sex.

“Ugh!” she breathed, before my hands even reached her.

Her skin was sticky and wet, but her bean was closed - neatly packed like a flower at night. I spent considerable time kissing and caressing it to the sounds of Clover’s murmurs. Finally, I pushed my finger into her slit and stroked the length of it. “Huh!” Clover groaned.

Then I tasted her - the taste of broth and lust. With my fingers I spread her lips apart, opening her vulva up to me. I tickled every part of her secret inner folds with my tongue, kissing here and there and occasionally sucking to draw out a gasp. Eventually I focused on her clit, nuzzling the hooded obelisk with my nose before applying my tongue. Clover’s chest was heaving, her back was arched, and her fingers were digging into the pillows.

“Should I keep going?” I asked.

“Yes yes yes yes yes please yes,” she whispered.

I licked her pussy experimentally, learning how to play her body. I left her clit mostly protected by its hood - she clearly didn’t need the extra intensity that a raw tongue lashing would have given her. She muttered inarticulate things as I brought her closer to the top of the orgasm rollercoaster. I thought I heard, “Thank you Goddess.” And then finally her climax hit. Her body writhed and her pussy twitched. She pounded her heels into my back. She moaned as her body took over and gave itself its reward.

“James...” she began, but found she was at a loss for words, so instead she just touched my hand.

Clover had to go soon after that. She had family obligations.

---

Chapter 3

Alison came to my dreams again that night. “Way to go, stud!” came the enthusiastic voice from the silver cage in the basement. “You must have licked her through the roof!”

“How do you even know that?” I asked, embarrassed.

“It’s just part of what I am,” Alison explained. “Plus Clover’s sexuality is, in a way, amplified by the configuration of the coven’s magic.”

“Alison ... you’re not going to hurt her, right?” I asked, nervous about the answer.

“James,” she replied seriously, “there have to be consequences.”

“Then let there be other kinds of consequences - ones where she doesn’t get hurt. Where none of them get hurt,” I demanded. “Promise.”

“James...,” she began, and sighed. “All right - I won’t hurt Clover, Hillary, or Talia for imprisoning me. But they will regret it. And if they come after me a second time, all bets are off.”

“Thank you,” I said. The mental haze of the dream kept me from wondering what alternate sorts of vengeance she might think up.

With that ugly topic behind us, Alison was smiling again. “Okay, so we need to talk strategy. The way we’re going to break her resolve is with guilt. You keep making her feel warm and squishy, but when she tries to return the favor, you mustn’t come.”

“Huh?”

“When she gives you head or a hand job, don’t come,” Alison explained. “Tell her it was nice, A for effort, totally not her fault, but she didn’t quite get you there. Eventually she’ll be so frustrated trying to make you come that she’ll decide to use the one foolproof tool at her disposal.”

“How am I supposed to just not come?” I asked, exasperated.

“I’ll teach you a charm,” Alison said.

“I don’t know. That seems kind of ... evil, doesn’t it?” I asked, forgetting that I was talking to an actual demon.

“James,” Alison said with a sympathetic voice, “I know you really like this girl. And you might even have a future together, and I don’t want to jeopardize that any more than I have to. But don’t lose perspective - she and her family are holding me captive. Come solstice, they plan to do ... something ... to me, and it will be truly horrible. Worse than death. Please - lie to your girlfriend, suffer through blue balls, and before long it will all be over.”

Alison taught me the “charm” to keep from coming - a series of symbols to cycle through in my mind when I need staying power. They weren’t all language, or objects - most were more conceptual. Honestly, I don’t know if she could have taught them to me outside of a dream. But I did learn.

“I need you to practice, so wake up as soon as we’re done here, and break out that porn collection of yours,” Alison told me. “Practice at least an hour, or else you’ll forget it. And James? Don’t ever, EVER teach this to anyone else. There would be costs that you do NOT want to pay.”

I did wake up, and I did masturbate for a ridiculous length of time while practicing Alison’s charm. It took a little while to get the hang of it, but it became second nature surprisingly quickly. It was frustrating, for sure - I wanted to come - but it was also sort of empowering. I started to appreciate the feeling of sexual stimulation independent of the orgasm. It was dawn before I finally let myself come. My ejaculation was so powerful that some of it ricocheted off of the tissue and got all over my laptop.

Over the next few weeks, Clover and I spent a great deal of time in my bedroom, even though she never stayed the night. She came to welcome my hands and my mouth all over her body as I learned the secret and unique pathways to unlock her endorphins. I loved making her come. I loved the goofy look on her face as her body shook beyond her control. I loved the whimper she’d give me when I withheld the final nudge toward climax from her, just for a moment, to tease her.

Clover’s attempts to make me come didn’t follow such a brightly shining path. The first time she went down on me, she was an eager beginner. It was her first time touching a cock, although years of stories from less inhibited friends had left her a good knowledge of the basics. She jerked my shaft, licked my head, and bobbed her wet lips up and down over the crest of my cock head. In two minutes she had me moaning in earnest, ready to come; but thanks to the spell circling inside my head, that couldn’t happen. It must have been a half hour later when she finally gave up.

“I need a break. I’m sorry!” Clover said, shaking out her sore arms.

“Honey, you’ve got nothing to apologize for,” I told her. “That was awesome. Thank you.”

“But you didn’t come. Guys are supposed to come when you ... do that,” she said.

“It just takes practice. You’ll get there,” I said, suppressing my guilt.

The next time, she had clearly picked up some pointers from her friends. She added the saliva-covered fist to her repertoire, for one. And she was much more active with her spare hand, caressing my thighs and my balls. Again, I would have filled her mouth with semen quickly if not for my secret subversion. She made me promise to tell her if I had any suggestions.

“Please don’t be offended, but is this normal for you?” Clover asked. “I mean, when other girls have tried...”

“Well, yeah, other girls have gotten me to come from blowjobs,” I said. “But don’t worry about them. Let’s just be us. Don’t focus on the orgasm. It feels good just like this - do it as long as you want and then stop when you don’t.” Clover clearly wasn’t satisfied with that answer, but she didn’t say anything.

After a few more days of unfinished blowjobs, Clover’s friend Sarah made brunch for us at her house. “So James, Clover says you’ve got some serious stamina,” Sarah said nonchalantly. “It sounds like you’re going to give her the full ride, once she finally gives it up to you.”

“Sarah!” Clover reprimanded.

“Hey, it’s something to be proud of!” Sarah defended herself. “I always get the four-strokes-and-done boyfriends. The kind who think that being there for you means handing you a Kleenex after they come on your face.”

Sarah took on a pretentious air: “James, on behalf of woman-kind, I would like to commend you on your exemplary muff-diving. Clover says that her toes have gotten strong enough to lift a van, with all the curling they’ve been doing lately.”

“Sarah, come on!” Clover exclaimed.

“Hey, if you don’t tell him that you appreciate him, you’re going to lose him,” Sarah said by way of excuse.

Back at my apartment later in the day, she wouldn’t let me go down on her. Today was the day, she said, that she would make me come no matter what it took. She sucked my cock for an eternity, using every trick she had learned. It felt so good, and she wanted to make me come so badly, that I almost lost the will to keep up Alison’s charm. But then I remembered Alison, trapped scared and lonely. Clover wasn’t totally innocent. Everything would be better once Alison was free, somehow.

I hate to say it, but after what must have been an hour and a half of getting head, I went soft. No matter how hard Clover sucked or how fast she stroked, she couldn’t get me stiff again. I don’t know if it was boredom - if you can believe that - or the limits of the human body, or guilt and confusion with the whole Alison-Clover situation, but I was done. Once Clover realized it, she looked me in the eye with fear and shame, and cried. She wouldn’t talk to me while she was getting dressed. All she said as she left was, “I’m so sorry.”

---

Chapter 4

We cleared things up the next day. Sarah’s comments had stoked the fires of her insecurity, and me losing my erection had made it worse.

For a while we took a break and contented ourselves with just kissing and over-the-clothes petting. We spent all the time we could together: we visited her cousin in a Sacramento hospital a few times, and participated in the bookstore owner’s board game nights. We declared our love for each other surrounded by giant trees while hiking in a national forest.

We never spent any significant time at the house that Clover shared with her mother and grandmother. I would pick her up or drop her off sometimes. I would come in and chat with her mother when offered a drink, to be polite. But Clover didn’t want to spend our time together there. Anyway, I’m sure that the witches didn’t want me stumbling on any of their secrets, and I wasn’t eager to expose myself any more than necessary to the people against whom I was conspiring.

Eventually, things got physical between Clover and me again. That was mostly my fault - I couldn’t get enough of her breasts. How could breasts that size stay so firm and so perfectly shaped? Sometimes we would just sit on the couch, listening to music, with me suckling at her chest like a baby while she stroked my back and mussed my hair.

I resumed making Clover come whenever I got the opportunity. I licked her, once, at the nursery where she worked after hours. I dropped to my knees and fingered her while she cooking at my place once, leading to some very badly sliced vegetables. She went back to giving me head, too, although we both accepted that it wouldn’t lead to orgasms. I didn’t jack off at all during that time, either - somehow that seemed like it would have been unfair to her.

We did mess around in other ways, too. One morning in my living room, with the sunlight warming us through the window, she almost gave in. She was beneath me on the couch, her legs together while I fucked the space between her thighs and pussy. My dick was sliding along her slit, smearing her wetness around, and making us both feel great as I humped the makeshift hole. Instead of moaning, Clover started whining. “Oh gosh, this feels so good. You’re so close and I want it so bad. Just one little slip and we’d be doing it for real. I want it. And you’ve been so understanding. It’s not fair. I want it so bad and it’s not fair.” Something changed in her eyes, just then.

The hole I was fucking ceased to exist as Clover spread her legs and wrapped them around me. “I think ... I think I...” Clover started to say. She was interrupted by a knocking on the door that sounded like cannon fire.

It was her grandmother banging on the door - banging hard enough to shake the cheap walls of the apartment. “Clover, you come out here right now!” The elder witch yelled, loud enough for the whole complex to hear her. “I know you’re in there and I know what you’re doing. You had better stop right now! I won’t let you throw this family’s legacy away so cheaply! Now open this door right now!”

We scrambled to get dressed while Talia ranted and banged outside. Finally we opened the door like scared kids. Talia had the look of a crotchety old woman: she was dressed in a bathrobe and slippers, and absently carrying an empty tea cup with leafy residue at the bottom. Talia eyed Clover cautiously, as if inspecting the “freshness seal” on suspicious groceries. Then she turned her gaze to me. I’ve never felt so exposed in my life. I was genuinely afraid that she was reading my mind - or at least my soul - and would discover not only my lustful thoughts toward her granddaughter, but my secret alliance with her prisoner. Whatever she saw, she didn’t say anything: she just took Clover by the hand and stomped off.

Alison invaded my dreams again that night. “The witches are buzzing around like angry bees. Did something happen?” She said.

I told her about what had happened, and what had almost happened. She literally rolled around inside of her cage, laughing. “Cock-blocked by tea leaves? Oh, that’s priceless! I mean, it sucks - for both of us - but it’s funny. Don’t you think that’s funny?”

“I’m not sure I get the joke,” I said, sourly.

“No? Grandma foresaw the sex you two were about to have in her tea leaves. Divination,” she said. “I bet Talia has been secretly asking her breakfast beverage about Clover’s hymen since the day she met you! I guess you’ve got to give her credit, though: it worked - she stopped you.” I didn’t share Alison’s sense of amusement about the situation.

“Something has been bothering me,” I told Alison as I sat down next to her cage. “Why is Clover’s virginity so important?I mean, obviously her mother and grandmother aren’t virgins. Is Clover the only one with power or something?”

“No, they’re all potent,” Alison explained. “Magic is built on symbols - well, most magic. These three chose to build their power around the symbol of the triple goddess - the Maiden, Mother, and Crone. By embodying the aspects of the symbol themselves, they built a powerful framework from which to use magic. They could have made other choices, but this was a pretty good one. There’s not much we could do to make the Hillary stop being the Mother, or make Talia stop being the Crone. But if you have sex with Clover, she stops being the Maiden - or at least, she stops being a good representation of the Maiden.”

Alison reached out as if to touch my hand. Despite ample space between the bars, her hand couldn’t reach beyond them. “Once that’s done,” she said longingly, “I’ll be able to break free. They’ll need to reorganize their power around a new symbol before they can threaten me again, and by then I’ll be long gone.”

The idea of Alison being gone from my life again saddened me. I had devoted so much energy to finding her, and then once I found her, scheming to free her. I wanted Alison in my life - maybe not as a lover, but at least as a friend. It had been my central preoccupation since I met her in that magic circle, years ago. But I also wanted Clover. I loved Clover; I couldn’t walk away from her. Was there any possible way to keep both of them?

---

Chapter 5

“I can’t come over for a while while my family settles down from their freak-out,” Clover told me at the deli the next day.

“Your relationship with them seems really complex,” I mused, tracing a heart shape on the back of her hand with my finger.

“They named me after a weed,” she said with a frown. “Okay, that’s not fair: clover is actually an awesome plant that does all kinds of good things for the soil and animals. But it’s a weird name. I just don’t feel like my life is my own, you know? It’s always about family tradition this and that.”

“How old was Talia when she got married?” I asked. “Do you think she ever got it on out of wedlock?” Clover winced at the thought.

One day, to my surprise, Clover invited me to come spend time at her house after work. Her mother and grandmother were out of town, she said, and she thought it would be a treat. When I got there, Clover practically pounced on me. We made out playfully in an old, large easy chair. Despite Clover’s assurances, I kept worrying that her grandmother would burst in on us. Once we were solidly in the mood, Clover took me by the hand and lead me upstairs, with a spring in her step. “I’ve got a surprise!” She said.

When we entered her bedroom, I was shocked to see Alison standing in the corner. Her lithe body was swimming in some matronly clothes that must have belonged to Clover’s mom. Around her neck was a silver chain, about as thick as a pencil. The other end of the chain was was secured around a leather-bound book, and there was a branch of some pine-like tree tucked into it. No effort had been made to hide her wings or tail, which flexed and swayed absently.

I froze.

“This is my friend Beth,” Clover explained with enthusiasm. “She’s a very dedicated cosplayer - she’s always in costume. And she’s a sex expert. She’s going to watch me go down on you and tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

Alison bowed. “Bethiel Nyantholi of the Mirror Winds, Countess of the Cold Shallows, at your service,” she said. The cosplayer cover seemed mind-bogglingly weak to me. I knew that Alison was a real demon, of course; but if I didn’t, did Clover really expect me to believe that Alison was just expertly made up as one? And if so, shouldn’t she have been wearing more revealing night-out-clubbing clothes like she had been wearing when I first met her years ago? A book club demon costume seemed like a poor excuse.

Clover pushed me onto the bed and removed my shirt. “Clover, this is weird...” I said.

“Think of it like a three-way,” Clover said playfully as she took off my pants. “Except not quite. Think of it as a two-and-a-half-way.”

I had no idea what to do, so I just lay back and let Clover do what she wanted. She began by squeezing my dick in her hand while it grew. Her other hand was caressing my thigh.

“Good start,” Alison said, “But don’t forget the audio. Pretty much any sound you make will increase his arousal. So moan or giggle or dirty-talk, or whatever.”

Clover obeyed. “I’ve been looking forward to your cock all day,” she said. “I couldn’t stop thinking about doing this to you.” By then I was fully hard. Clover wrapped her lips around my cock and started swirling her tongue around my head while rubbing my shaft. Periodically she let out a sexy little cooing noise.

“Oh, Clover,” I moaned. I began practicing the endurance charm that Alison had taught me, and I stroked Clover’s hair.

“Aw! You two are so cute together!” Alison exclaimed.

Clover switched techniques. Now she was moving her lips up and down over my cock’s crown, while working my shaft with her hands. She had me in heaven, and if not for the spell, I definitely would have shot my load into her mouth.

“Don’t be afraid to slurp!” Alison advised. “It’s titillating! And don’t forget the rest of his body - rub his foot with yours, or touch his chest or something.” Clover did as she was told, and kept sucking and jerking.

“Okay now give him a change of scenery. Take off your shirt or shorts or something - but not everything all at once.” Clover removed her blouse and went back to bobbing her head up and down on my dick. Alison was right - seeing Clover partly naked enticed and frustrated me into new heights of excitement.

“And you, guy, whatever your name is - how about some encouragement?” Alison suggested. “This girl is working hard to make you feel good.”

“God, Clover, I wish I could tell you how good this feels,” I began. “It’s the best kind of torture, but it’s killing me not to come.” Clover redoubled her efforts, sucking harder, stroking faster, moaning louder. Alison kept giving her tips, but it really didn’t matter. No ordinary human will could have resisted her sexual onslaught. She could have made any man come, if they weren’t protected by magic.

After an hour of tutoring, Clover finally took a break. “What am I doing wrong?!” Clover complained. “I just want to make my boyfriend come. I don’t understand!”

“I don’t know what to tell you, hon,” Alison told her. “It looks like you’re doing everything right.”

“Maybe it’s just not possible,” Clover mumbled.

“Well, not possible for you...” Alison prodded. Clover shot her a deadly look.

“No. It’s not possible,” Clover proclaimed. Alison shrugged as if to say, “if you say so.”

The next thing I knew, Clover was picking up the book to which Alison was chained and leading her over to the bed, resting the book on the night stand. “Show me,” Clover commanded.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I said meekly. Both women ignored me.

Alison began with one hand on my balls, and a finger of the other hand on my collarbone. She drew this finger down my center, slowly, like the burning fuse of a bomb. Meanwhile she swirled her mouth around my cock in ways that I can’t comprehend. I had no idea what Alison’s plan was, so I kept the anti-orgasm charm running through my head. It didn’t matter. The sexual intensity kept increasing as her finger crept down my body. When her hand reached my dick and the countdown was over, something broke in my mind, and all of my essence came gushing out of my dick into Alison’s mouth - at least, that’s what it felt like. My blissful spurts were followed by aching hollow satisfaction throughout my whole body. Alison dribbled my fluids down my cock, onto my legs and the sheets below me.

Clover took Alison’s book and chain in hand, and said, “Come with me, please.” Despite her polite words, it was clear that she was furious. They left the room, and I heard footsteps on the stairs.

Clover came back a few minutes later. I was still lying in a pool of come, recovering from mind-blowing head. “That didn’t quite work out how I hoped,” she said apologetically. “But at least you were finally satisfied.” She was clearly saddened by the notion.

I almost told her the truth. Almost. “Clover, please stop obsessing over my weird orgasm difficulties. It’s tearing you up, and it’s bad for us. I don’t need that. I just need you, happy.”

“That’s not what you said,” Clover said accusingly. “You said it was killing you not to come. If it weren’t for my stupid virginity complex, you could be coming all the time. We could have the sort of life young adults are supposed to have. What kind of girl does that to someone? I do want it, you know. My pussy aches all the time to be filled by you. Maybe if you were seeing someone else...”

I held her hand and sat up. “I look forward to some day making love to you,” I told her. “But not until it’s what you want. Maybe it’ll be on our wedding day. Don’t worry about other girls - they’ve got nothing on you.”

Clover giggled. “Did you just propose to me?” She teased. I shrugged innocently while I cleaned myself up and got dressed.

---

Chapter 6

More time passed. Clover and I didn’t officially get engaged, but we did talk a lot about a future where we were married. Many of our friends - by now I was pretty well accepted by the town - joked about us already being married but still not having sex. A large coalition of people our age were sure that we’d never done more than kiss, thanks to Clover’s reputation. The older folks, though, seemed to have a greater respect for the power of biology. Every time I ran into Clover’s grandmother, Talia, she gave me the stink eye.

One morning Sarah came in to the deli and handed me a small folded piece of colored paper. It read, “I’d like to go all the way tonight. May I come over after work? XOXO Clover.” My jaw dropped and Sarah laughed at me. Twice more that day, Sarah came to the deli to give me notes: “I can’t wait for our date tonight,” and “I love you, James.”

After work I stopped by the florist and bought Clover some flowers. I felt foolish, buying flowers for a woman who works with plants for a living, but it was the only gesture I could think of. I made sure I bought living plants, not cut flowers: Clover wouldn’t have wanted anything to die for her enjoyment.

When Clover arrived at my apartment, she was wearing a beautiful white dress that I had never seen before. It was a smooth white fabric, with some lacy flowery adornment at the neck and waist. It hugged the curves perfectly before flaring out to a knee-length skirt.

Clover wasn’t wearing makeup - she never did. But her skin seemed to almost glow, and she smelled like lilacs. She brought with her a picnic basket, and unpacked the dinner that she had spent much of the day preparing.

After dinner we fooled around in my bedroom. We weren’t in any hurry, and the mood was light. Still, taking that dress off of Clover was the one of the most powerful moments of my life. In time, she was on top of me, grinding her pussy against my shaft, and grinning like a fox. “I’m going to do it - I’m going to stick it in,” she said with a smirk. “Can you believe it?” She shifted position, aiming the tip of my cock at her opening.

“Ohhhhh,” she moaned as she sunk down onto it. My cock squeezed its way deep inside her in one smooth stroke, her pussy gripping me with loving tightness. “Oh gosh - I feel so full!”, Clover said.

Clover performed a few basic forward and back strokes on top of me before experimenting by tilting her hips and her body. She decided on half-way upright, with her hands on my shoulders supporting much of her weight. Then she found her rhythm: she thrust her body onto my cock, over and over again, remarking, “You’re fucking me, James. You’re fucking me.”

Before long, Clover was sweating. Her boobs were jiggling between her arms as she humped me hard. “Nice to let your pussy run free, huh?” I asked. She nodded. It was such a wonderful friction, my cock head rubbing against her slick insides, and blunting against her cervix. I could almost feel her uterus calling out to me, begging for an infusion of sperm, begging to fullfil its function. I understood the meaning of “sexy” deeper then than I ever had before.

I memorized every facial expression she made, every sound she let loose, and every darting of her eyes. This was Clover, the woman I loved, experiencing something totally new and amazing to her. I felt priviliged to be able to witness it.

“I’m getting tired, but I don’t want to stop!” Clover told me.

“Trust me,” I said. I guided her to her side and then spooned up behind her, refilling her newly awakened pussy with my cock. I fucked her, with my hand over her heart and my chest pressed up against her back.

“Oh, that spot!” She cried, fine-tuning her hips so that my thrusts her G-spot perfectly. I could feel her heart beating a mile a minute, and she was hyperventilating. I wasn’t sure exactly when it started, but I was pretty sure she was experiencing a climax. My thought was confirmed, many seconds later, when she whispered, “Still coming ... h-ohhhh.” I kept going just like that, hoping to sustain her climax as long as possible I was teetering on the edge of an orgasm myself, but I held back the best I could, the normal way, without Alison’s magic.

Finally my restraint broke: all of the sexual energy I had been holding back for so long came gushing out of me, filling up Clover’s womb in mighty spurts. “I can feel you coming,” Clover told me, softly and innocently. “You’re coming inside of me.”

---

Epilogue

I guess we must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, I awoke to Alison walking into the bedroom. It wasn’t a dream. She had no chain around her neck, this time. The clothes she was wearing - from Clover’s wardrobe this time - suited her better than the last set I had seen her in, but they were still too big on her slender figure. As always, my mind was torn between the image of innocent beauty that her human body presented, and the otherworldly discomfort that her bat-wings and serpent’s tail elicited. “Oh, this is really cute! Is it new?” Alison said, picking up Clover’s dress from the floor.

Clover was on her feet immediately, holding her hands in front of her, twisted into arcane shapes. “James, you have to run, now - she’s dangerous!”

“Honey, that’s sweet, but be realistic.” Alison said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Come on, let’s chat.” Clover reluctantly accepted defeat and sat down on the opposite side of the bed.

“I wanted to say goodbye before I left,” Alison said. “We all owe each other quite a bit, you know. You in particular, Clover. If not for James, you’d be watching me flay your mother and grandmother right now. But because he made me promise, I’m not going to hurt any of the three of you - this time.” Alison paused to let her words sink in.

“Honesty is important in a relationship,” Alison went on. “I’m going to help you kids out with a little nudge. Yes, James and I go way back. I took his cherry, you know. It was delicious.” She licked her lips. “He had a bit of a crush on me. He recently spent the better part of a year in the company of whores, trying to find me. I mean, a lot of whores. When I finally reached him - you guys were sloppy with your security, by the way: I hijacked your sky lattice to enter James’ dreams. When I finally reached him, he moved here to help me escape, by convincing the youngest witch to forsake her virginity.”

Clover looked at me with silent shock.

“Now James,” Alison continued. “You know that Clover is a witch, and that she was complicit in keeping me locked up in a tiny cage, without so much as a vibrator to keep me from going crazy. And you know that they were going to do something bad to me when the solstice came. You should also know that Clover’s family’s business basically amounts to a protection racket: pay the nice agricultural consultant ladies, or you’ll have a very bad crop this year. Oh, and she wore a glamour to make herself more attractive to you for the first two weeks. She was afraid that you might be into her friend instead of her.”

Alison laughed, as if remembering another part to her story. “Oh yeah, and let’s not forget that she threatened to torture me if I didn’t give her tips on how to make her boyfriend come, which is hilarious when you realize that I’m the one who taught him the spell that was keeping him from coming in the first place!” She seemed disappointed that we weren’t laughing with her.

“Anyway, all’s well that ends well,” Alison said. “You guys have got some stuff to talk about, but it’s a lot to take in all at once. Believe it or not, this will help.” As quick as a cat, Alison swiped her hand across my belly, causing indescribable pain. In my last few seconds of consciousness, I saw Alison walk out, hips swaying, while Clover scrambled to press a pillow against my bleeding gut.

Clover has stayed with me in the hospital, as much as they’ve allowed. We’ve had some really hard talks, but we think we can make it work out.

I learned that Alison burned the witches’ house down on her way out. Hillary and Talia are furious with Clover. She’s sad about that, but she knows that, in a twisted way, it’s a normal part of growing up. The elder two witches have stopped just short of threatening vengeance on me.

Once I’m released from the hospital, Clover and I are going to move somewhere far away, and get married.

---

Continued in The Girl in the Honeysuckle

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