Title: Hellish Reward III: Beautiful Night

By: Knorg

Feedback: paxgronk@hotmail.com

Category: Paranormal

Description: A complete story of deceit & Trickery in the city by the bay as a sexy demonologist abducts for sacrifice a young man who is already the branded property of the succubus AshleeRothea. M/F, original characters, demon sex, light bdsm themes.

Disclaimer: This is an original work of fiction, all characters were created by the author known by the pseudonym Knorg and have no relation to any people or demons living or dead, expect for the purposes of parody and satire. This story contains situations, which unfold, and characters, which act, in an adult manner. This story is not suitable for any readers under the age of 21 anywhere, or any readers in any territory where fiction of this type is prohibited. I am making no money and gaining no financial reward from my original fictional creation, which is a damn shame, but I doubt anyone’s surprised.

Hellish Reward III: Beautiful Night

It was a fuckin’ cold December night, unnaturally and uncharacteristically cold for the city on the bay. Cold enough to freeze the cackle off of a witch, the foreskin off’ve Frosty the Snowman, and even to freeze the heart of a literary critic. It was a night when all sensible men and women of balanced mind were tucked safely up at home, watching TV, reading a book or maybe even screwing like horny dogs. This being San Franciso, some of them were probably screwing horny dogs. According to my Luna calendar it was a full moon though I could see nothing through the city’s hanging cover of pollution; the aura of a civilisation poisoning itself. I coughed, hacking up grimy phlegm from my lungs, and spat down into the water below. In cities your lungs fill with crap almost as fast as your mind can. As a child I’d taken comfort from the stars high above me; the sense that up there amongst the darkness and the lights there must be something to make the universe worthwhile, something beyond the Earth, a planet so stupid it invented humanity. Humanity is right up there with a restaurateur opening a cockroach farm in the kitchens.

I was bloody miserable that night; feeling lonely, rejected. I’d like to try and describe the deep, dark, foreboding depression that had sunk around my form. It was almost an aura of dark soul-sadness, shining around me. It was more than just the depression of a young man who’s looked once too often into a toilet filled with the detritus of Dionysus and considered, while wiping his mouth, just how much his two and a bit decades of living are worth. It was deeper and darker than even the most pretentiously and painstakingly portrayed pseudeo-depression of the terminal poseur. I could have been a gothic rocker that night.

I was starting to think that my life was no longer worth living; that death’s calm, quiet embrace seemed infinitely preferable to the harsh realities of a world too stupid to be cruel. I reflected as long and hard as fictional Hamlet before me on the nature of death, of what lay beyond the metaphorical veil. Which was a silly waste of time because I already knew. I’d been to Hell. It’s not as similar to Newark as certain individuals may have led you to believe.

In Hell, I was the plaything of a daughter of Lilith, taken there as a reward for aiding her on Earth. I was Her pet, waiting faithfully at the gates of hell when She was away, and to heel when She was near. and… ah, go read Hellish Reward and the soon to be a major Hollywood movie, Hellish Reward II. They were going to get Keanu to play me, but he came down with a severe case of woodworm.

I’d seen her only sparingly since the day she’d marked me, well over a year ago. Even now, in the cold San Francisco night, my Mistress’ mark felt warm on my back. It had been too long since I’d last seen Her. I was supposed to be getting on with my life, living on Earth in accordance with Lilith’s decision to overrule her daughter and let Dave bring me out of Hell. Instead, I dropped out of university and did a little travelling. Waiting for her to come again for me, waiting for the end of the world. Dave had been annoyed; all the effort to bring me out of Hell and I’d only gone and travelled to America.

The depression had bitten hard as I’d hitched to San Francisco, listening to the happy trucker’s tale of marital bliss with his cousin-sister mary-sue. As many potential suicides have found, when it comes time to take that final leap, pull that final trigger, or urinate on that first Hell’s Angel’s Harley, a final re-evaluation of one’s life and future is often in order. I did mine and saw little more inviting than that wide, wet expanse below me. I was preparing myself for that hoary old chestnut of ‘jumping to a conclusion’ when I heard footsteps along the bridge. Given the extreme low temperatures I was kinda surprised. You know what it’s like for some people, trying to perform with an audience? Yeah, well. Bingo.

I looked around to see a pale woman in a long black-furred coat. You don’t tend to see many real fur coats these days, not since the furry/animal rights wars. I’m no expert; I didn’t know if it was real or not. She had lots of long black hair, thick and silky, down to her waist. Red / Black eye shadow. I wondered if she were a demon in disguise, and if so, it wasn’t a very convincing disguise.

“Are you going to jump?” An American. Great. Although, in her defence, I was in San Francisco – complaining about meeting Americans in America is as pointless as complaining about meeting Frenchmen in an erectile dysfunction clinic. She was a Goth, too. That’s the thing with SF… The rebellious kids are the ones who dress like Britney and listen to music that isn’t based around kittens eating the world, or who date people of the opposite sex. It’s hard to rebel in a place like that. Anyway, usual stereotypes on Nortongrad aside, there I was freezing my nads off on a bridge at night, with a well-wrapped, pale-faced woman talking to me. You’ve all been there, right?

“What’s it to you?”

“I like a good show.”

“Yeah? You expecting a triple back flip? Five tossers with signs saying 9.0? Maybe a swan dive? Look, just piss off will you?”

She seemed to be thinking, and unlike a resident of Alabama it wasn’t hurting her to do so.

“A genuine English transient… hmmm…. You’ll do nicely.”

So, I was just in the process of giving her two fingers – not like that! Shocking suggestion - when she pulled a gun on me. God bless America.

“If I shoot you in the stomach from this angle, you’ll land in the road. It’s a slow, painful, death to be poisoned by your own stomach.”

I kept up the bravado being suicidal an’ all.

“Yeah? So’s life in general.” I thought about it, “I mean… without the stomach part…” witty repartee is so much easier for heroes; I’m just a storyteller.

I’d been out shooting with JimBob back in the old days, so the sound the gun made as she fired didn’t surprise me. It was the bullet Spang!-ing off the bridge support by my head that had me cowering on the road like a cheese eating surrender monkey, and I’d never so much as carried onions around as an aphrodisiac.

“You aren’t as keen to die as you were making out. I can recognise a cry for help. I’ve heard so many.”

I looked up the barrel of the gun, passed the gloved hand, up the fur-coat sleeve, up the neck, and into a triumphant face. I asked the question foremost in mind,

“Do y’not get frostbite off those piercings?” I asked, of the nose ring, the two lower-lip rings either side of a central lip-spike thing. It’s probably called the Princess Helga or something. I was having flashbacks to my old housemate, Jemma.

“Wha…what kind of question is…? No! Come with me. Now” Oh, she had a tongue stud as well. I remembered the words of Chris Rock, and suppressed an out of character sleazy leer. Those are Dave’s speciality. She prodded me with the gun, and I rose to walk.

“If I want to live?” I asked.

She laughed, but not in a friendly way. I shivered, and for once on that bridge… Not the cold.

***

“Now… Now I will tell you why you’re here.”

“Ooooh! Wait! I got it! You had this stone altar in the middle of your floor, and nothing to put on it? No! Wait! It’s because you’ve mistaken me for James Bond and you want to show me how to disable the death ray and stop you! Now that’s a cry for help!” I was in a pretty uncomfortable position, naked, and manacled ankle and wrist onto a low, cold, stone altar. It reminded me of my days as a cub scout. There were loads of candles around as well as at least a few low watt electric bulbs. Something about the whole set up suggested sacrifice to me. That’s irony for you… go out to commit suicide and end up getting murdered. Or maybe it isn’t irony. I’ll check the dictionary. An English dictionary.

My head was hanging over the back of the stone altar, so I could see her standing in the shadows at the back of the room. After bringing me here and chaining me to the altar, she’d shaved my face. The unmitigated horror of a crotch wax was at the back of my mind, but luckily not to be. I think she’d taken the fur coat off, much to the joy of PETA readers. Hey, it probably was fake. Unless she’d skinned a furry. We’ve all had the urge, right? Anyway, as she stepped out of the shadows to speak I saw she was wearing a shiny latex catsuit that I would have found pretty damn sexy in other circumstances. Actually, I found it pretty damn sexy now. I put the thoughts towards the rear of my mind. There was only one woman for me. What’s that? Pussywhipped? I’ve been whipped with a lot more than pussy mate… take a look at these scars.

“You’re here because I need a sacrifice to the demon Mannon, bringer of madness, kleptomania, and bad teen movies.”

And, damn, these weird sandal-shoe things. I’m sure a foot fetishist could tell you more about them. Biggest damn soles and heels I ever saw. If they were leather you could feed Birmingham off ‘em. Not the Hindu areas, obviously.

“Trying for a career in the films are you? Bit part in a vampire movie?” Yeah, the old ones are the best, but she didn’t seem impressed. I tried a different tack, “How is it a sacrifice if you aren’t giving something up? It’s my life here, not yours! I always wondered about that one.”

“Fool. You know nothing of the workings of Hell!”

Where’s the dictionary? Yep. Irony.

She crossed the floor, and ran her hand down my chest towards my betraying organ. Damn thing wouldn’t stay flaccid as she lent over me. Kind of the opposite problem for you older folks, huh? I bet it’s easy when your mistress orders you not to cum. “No fear! I haven’t since 1987!” eh? Eh? Alright, back to my story. I was starting to get worried, abducted at gunpoint by a stone-bonker and I figured that if she was into demonology I could try the truth.

“Uh… I probably ought to tell you that I’m the marked property of a demoness, a daughter of Lilith herself. You’d probably offend her if you fed me to some crazy demon. Jus’ saying is all.” My chains rattled as she dropped to her knees beside my head and took my skull in both of her hands. I felt my neck ache under the pressure as she looked into my face with contempt.

“That… that has to be the lamest thing I’ve ever heard. You’re really going to have to try a lot harder for mercy. Just lie back… and enjoy your suicide.”

“Suicide’s one thing. I’ve no real desire to meet Mr Madness, and have him steal my watch while forcing me to watch Blair Witch 2. I just wanted to go back to hell and serve Mistress again.”

She spat in my face, and then spoke with utter contempt, “You’re pathetic, you’re so full of shit. You look at me, you see some dumb goth willing to swallow any occult shit.”

I decided against vocally agreeing. She sounded pissed. I hoped she was crazy and didn’t know anything about summoning demons. I guess I didn’t know San Francisco too well.

“Well… there’s got to be someway I can convince you to let me live, huh?” I asked, as her warm spit slid down my face. I felt like a pornstar at the end of a hard day.

“There’s nothing you can do. I will draw the circle about the altar and summon Mannon into it. I’ve really got no reason to let you go, to have the cops coming around here asking about human sacrifice.”

She stood again, and popped some bottoms on the belly of her catsuit. In a few seconds the crotch was removed from the catsuit and I was staring up into her snatch. A small patch of brown hair suggested that the long black mane was dyed, although the damp sight inches from my face was rushing my thinking blood into my dick. I hadn’t had sex in a couple months, since She last came for me. And with me. Heeeeeey!

“Human sacrifice makes me hot.” She was unlikely to be quoting Mother Theresa as she leaned forward over to balance against the altar and push her snatch into my face.

“Oh fuck it.” Lilith had beaten much of the remaining resistance out of me back at the gates of Hell; chained to an altar and feeling suicidal I hadn’t the heart to resist. I raised my head and licked her labia, tasting the first juices of arousal that slipped down. My catsuited captor sighed appreciatively, moving gently against my face. I felt her closing pale fingers about my swollen cockmeat, and pushed my tongue inside her mostly-shaven pussy. I could’ve come straight away, but it was burned into me: never come first.

“Come on, meat, eat me!” Hard nipples brushed my stomach as she jacked my meat; her breasts had emerged over the top of the catsuit’s low neckline. She gripped my head between hot shiny, latex thighs as I pushed my tongue as far inside her as I could. She tasted good; not as good as Mistress, but as good as any human girl could. I was humping my hips into her hands while the chains shook in time, secretly wanting to feel her mouth, her studded tongue on my pre-cum slick cock.

“Yeah! YEAH!” she really was aroused by the situation; my face was sticky with sweet juice, shiny as her black clad legs. I worked my tongue around her oozing snatch before latching my lips on her erect clit. Sucking on the sensitive nub of flesh, I simultaneously flicked with my tongue to a loud “OOOOOHHHEAAAHAARHHHH!” as she came. I felt her whole body spasming as she collapsed across my sweaty chained body. A groan of frustration escaped me as she dropped her fingers from my cock to clutch the altar while sweet honey dripped across my face.

“Should’ve got-off when you had the chance. Chivalry is dead.”

She didn’t re-attach the crotch on the catsuit, instead she left her juices to drip on the floor and dry on her thighs as she drew some arcane circle design on the floor around the altar. I wondered if she was born in Essex. The air was heavy with the smell of sex; male and female sweat, her juices, my precum and pheromones. My erection refused to disappear, I felt like a 16 year old being ordered to stand and explain something in front of the class.

“Wait… how’re you gonna sacrifice me from outside the circle? Throwing knife? Explosive chewing gum? Remember: Gums don’t kill people, Wrappers do.”

“The summoning of Mannon requires a live sacrifice. There’s also a version for idiotic teenage so-called “witches” that drives the performers crazy. Mannon’s wacky like that.” After her climax she seemed a lot more relaxed, a lot more laid back and talkative. The tremble of orgasm was already gone from her voice. I almost got annoyed. Everyone knows that the stories of witches having anything to do with demons were made up. All earth worship and old goddesses and the cycle of nature. No, really. And the cows just died from disease.

“Listen, uh… “ I suddenly realised I didn’t know my captor’s name, that she hadn’t cared for mine, “…goth. I wasn’t lying earlier, and you really don’t want to mess with Mistress. Lots of demons are scared of Her in Hell. It’s like… how would you feel if someone tried to feed your puppy to a slavering rabbit Wolf? I mean Rabid.”

She stayed outside the circle as she answered; I had a pretty good idea that if she physically broke it, any powers it might have would be destroyed. I couldn’t really get a good look at it though, what with being chained to a fucking sacrificial altar. You ever have one of those days? The other ex-scouts know what I’m talking about. So does Gavin Arvizo.

“Be quiet. Nothing you say will stop the sacrifice; nobody can hear us in here. There’s no made-up demon mistress coming to rescue you. You’re meat, you’re sacrifice.”

Hey folks, have you worked out where this story is heading yet?

“Your funeral.”

“No, it’s yours.” She began to chant in archaic German, walking around the circle as she did so. She had a good voice, and I closed my eyes to listen to the incantation, ignoring my still swollen dick. I really did need to come but couldn’t get myself off. I hadn’t felt like that since I last made the mistake of going to the cinema to see a Julia Roberts movie, rather than watching it in the privacy of my own home. Greasy magic started to build in the air, there were distant voices on the edge of hearing and then the light show began. I opened my eyes appreciatively to see the sort of light show Spielberg could put out first time, and Lucas would add in later as a special edition.

And then it was over. Low effects budget, obviously. Standing to my left was a hulking seven-foot demon. This was no dapperly dressed man of wealth and taste, no tragic fallen angel Milton wankfest. This was a hairy, muscular red-skinned beast with the head of a bull, the torso of a red-fleshed Arnold Schwarzenegger and the legs of an oversized goat… that worked out. I swear, this demon could have been an extra in one of Tantric Legion’ stories. His bull’s nose-ring looked big enough to go around my captor’s wrist.

“I am Mannon.”

I looked up at him, wondering if I’d ever met him while at the gates of hell. He didn’t look particularly familiar; perhaps he used the back door. As my eyes dropped between his legs, I really began to wish I’d not thought of that option. He could’ve given ‘That’s One Doomed Space Marine!’’s Duke of Hell a shy bladder at the urinal.

“Mannon, You will call me Bellenoir.” Hey, she was clever enough to use a false name. As if it made any real difference. It’s not like Demons try and track you down through the phone book. ‘Gotta love these modern demonologists’ I thought, as she continued, “Accept this sacrifice and grant to me the services I require.”

“Listen, big guy, you-MMMPHH” No, that wasn’t him orally raping me, you sick bastards. Thank fuck. That was a hard, coarse-skinned clawed hand closing over my mouth and locking my jaw shut. Mannon obviously didn’t take any lip from sacrifices, not when he could take the whole head.

“And what services do you require, ‘Bellenoir’? What would you command of… humble… Mannon?”

“I want…” She began, but trailed off in confusion as Mannon raised a hand and sniffed in a great breath of air, before using his free hand to pull my left wrist chain from the altar. It snapped like Toffee in his hands. I was twisted painfully in three remaining bonds as he half turned me. Still, I smiled behind his face gripping hand. Mannon had sensed Her influence and found Her mark.

“I want you to bring madness to my rival Jourlaid, to…” Bellenoir’d begun speaking again, apparently convinced that good ol’ Mannon was merely sampling the merchandise. This time, she was cut off as he dropped me back against the altar, threw back his head and HOWLED!

“HOOOOOWWWWLLLLLLL!”

The Bulbs burst in their sockets as Bellenoir dropped to her knees. I had my free hand over one ear and tried to bury the other into my shoulder as the noise resounded. A wind began to blow in the room, spinning round and round, centred on the circle. The candles went out as the echoes of the howl died away. That we weren’t deafened indicates some sort of paranormal aspect to the howl, or perhaps merely a plot hole.

Mannon’s eyes glowed in the dark. Red and hateful. I could hear my captor – Bellenoir – moving over the other side of the room. I think she was going for a torch, or a candle, or even a bell and book or something.

“You… you shouldn’t be able to affect things outside the circle… It’s never failed before…” she sounded afraid. My erection had disappeared, Mr Floppy was in the house. I was grateful for that. I’d been worrying Mannon’d think I fancied him.

“I cannot harm you from within the circle, it is true. I simply used the mark on this sacrifice to summon the true owner of property. It is not my intention for her to harm you, or even that summoning would have been against the rules within this circle. Old rules.” He might not have looked dapper, but he sounded it.

“Tr-true owner?” Bellenoir was bricking it for sure. Tremendous bladder control on that woman; I’d probably have pissed myself.

And then She was there, in all her Hellish glory (Well… minus the wings she sometimes wore. But that doesn’t sound as good. Let’s start again).

And then She was there, in all her Hellish glory. Red light bathed the room, as Mannon snapped my remaining bonds. I thanked him, before dropping to my knees by the altar. My mouth was dry, I couldn’t speak. I merely looked adoringly on Her beauty. The same demon form she wore when she first took me on the rocky floor of Hell. I damn near came across the floor. It looked as if the candles re-lit themselves as the unnatural red light faded.

I could tell what my erstwhile captor was thinking, ‘She’s outside the circle.’ I felt sorry for the goth demonologist, even though the woman had tried to sacrifice me. I’m a nice guy at heart, always have been. That’s why I always finish last. Unfortunately, and surprisingly, Bellenoir wasn’t paying attention to the circle behind her. She scrabbled backwards away from Mistress as Her hooves smacked the bare wooden floor.

Mannon began to laugh, and walked forward. Bellenoir realised her error too late, far too late. Not trying to get people to take her seriously with the silly name, but that she’d backed into the circle and broken it’s protection. Mannon gripped her latex clad shoulders in his hands and pulled her up against his muscular red torso. And then his claw was over her mouth, as her feet kicked ineffectually at the air. Mistress watched them for a moment, but then she approached me.

“I feel I owe you an apology, pet.”

‘WHAT’? I thought, before “Mistress, I…”

“Sssh.” She pushed a crimson talon-like finger against my lips, “I have neglected you of late, with my duties to hell. The final battle in the old War is soon to be fought, Armageddon and the Apocalypse; the four horsewomen are ready to ride out. The end is nigh, pet.”

She ran the talon gently down the side of my face, and crouched before my kneeling form. I was no longer paying attention to Bellenoir and Mannon, to the world or the room. Only Her. She kissed my forehead. My cock was rock hard, my tongue moist, my fingers flexing, ready for service. I was horny as Hell, I could smell Her, and even other smells in the room were fading to me. That doesn’t sound impressive until you realise one of them was Mannon’s rank demon musk.

“The last moves are even now being made, forces are gathering beyond mortal comprehension, beyond the reckoning even of Carol Vorderman. Judgement day is coming… all that remains to be decided is ‘who does the judging?’ Are you excited, pet?”

“Yes, Mistress. And very, very afraid.”

I was pushed back onto the floor as She sat on my chest. Her leather skirt was up around her thighs and She wore no panties – Victoria’s Secret couldn’t get tax breaks in Hell. I marvelled at the midnight black hair flowing down her back, the firm swell of her demonic breasts under the short leather garment, the pure crimson of her skin. I looked adoringly into her fanged smile, and unthinkingly rested my hands on her thighs.

Yeah, I’m also as much a romantic at heart as a nice guy.

“You really are excited aren’t you?” Reaching back, she tugged on my cock, holding the hot, swollen, precum-sticky cock gently in her strong crimson hand “Cum for me.” That was all it took. Thick, creamy spunk rocketed nearly three feet in the air on the first blast, nearly as high in the second. Eyes rolled back in head, hips thrusting uncontrollably, I came hard.

“Thank you so much Mistress. Thank you… Thank you.” I could see her hand dusted with spunk, very white against her dark red skin, as she brought it around and gently shushed my lips with it. Holding it in a fist in front of her breasts, she gazed upon it as a faint red glow left her flesh cleaned of my unworthy seed. I felt a calmness sink over me that I’d not felt in a long time, as she turned her attention back to the big demon.

“Mannon, You did well to draw my attention to this matter.”

I looked over to where the hulking demon still clutched the struggling, catsuited Bellenoir. She was complaining behind his hand. He bowed his head with surprising grace. I sensed that he took on the appearance he wore because it was expected of him.

“It is a privilege to receive the praise of one such as you, AshleeRothea. I trust you will remember my service in the times to come?”

“Of course, Mannon. What do you intend now?”

“There is no longer a Deal for me to make here, lady. I will return shortly to my business in Hell.”

He looked pointedly at his captive. Mistress nodded, and I looked away, visions of a brutal demon rape in my head, for once not my own. I felt a little queasy in my stomach. There was a shifting of weight, and then hot breath in my ear.

“Still your fears, pet. Do you think you’re the only one who would find pleasure in lying with demons? Do you assume that she’s about to suffer some brutal torment at Mannon’s hands?”

“Well, actually…” The big demon began, until he caught a look from Mistress. She looked back at me,

“This mortal woman is a mass murderer. I can feel the stain of each and every victim who died on that altar, dragged screaming into Hell, for a little power and the tainted bargains of Hell.”

“Oh.” I said, not really having an answer, She continued, “Perhaps you forget… one of the functions of Hell is the punishment” she ran a her finger down my chest, pushing enough to draw blood “of the wicked? Their suffering fuels the fires of Hell, my pet. Especially with oil prices so high.”

“but… but you’ just can’t…” I started. Which just goes to show that there’s suicidal, and then, there’s suicidal.

“Can’t? This… living on Earth, pet. You’ve forgotten your place. Worse, you’ve forgotten Mine.”

She slashed twice, faster than my eyes could follow. Pain lanced across my chest in ten burning trails as I bucked beneath Her and cried out. She pushed my face back down against the hard floor of Bellenoir’ sacrificial chamber.

“Mistress, beg forgiveness, please… mercy… this worthless pet is not worthy to speak… take my tongue from my head for my…” I was babbling, begging, pleading. Scared for my life, horny as hell. Her hair dropped around as she lent down and lapped at the blood running down my chest. She moved against me as she drank, drinking my blood and my fear like the finest of wines. When she raised her head, there was blood on her chin and breasts. My blood. I felt her claws flex against my head as she held it immobile against the floor. Hot blood on my chest and cooling spermatic fluid on my thighs and crotch.

“Mannon. I’m sure your little ‘Gothic,’ friend has always dreamed of being ravished by a demon. Why don’t you find out if it’s truly what she wants; show my Pet another facet of Hell’s hospitality.”

We were on the floor the altar; with my head held down and sideways I couldn’t see what was happening until Mannon brought Bellenoir over into my line of sight. Next to the altar. He dropped her catsuited, bare-crotched, body over it, and I expected her to try and run like a cop who just heard there was a ten for one special on donuts for pedestrians. She didn’t.

“Is it mind control, Mistress?” my voice was shaking like California screwing Nevada. Mannon ran his big gnarly hands down her back, stroking her sexy model-quality body through the rubber of her catsuit. I felt myself being pulled up, so my freshly clawed-up chest pressed against Hers; the shifted position allowed Her to sit on my thighs and sperm-wet crotch. My blood was leaking down the front of Her leather dress as I realised She intended to give me a fuller view of Bellenoir’s ravishment by the demon. She dropped her head and lapped at the blood on my chest before replying.

“No, pet. Free will. Never forget the concept.” She ruffled my hair gently. I began to hope that her moment’s temper had passed. I thought about the Free Will, but couldn’t understand why my erstwhile captor had gone from struggling fear, to willingly copulating with a demon. Yeah, I was being a fucking hypocrite really.

Mannon knelt down onto the floor behind the altar, slow close that his heady demon musk was reaching my nose over even Her strong scent, and She was right in front of me. Twin blasts of steam blasted from his animal nose, condensing on the hefty nose ring and ruffling Bellenoir’ meagre pubic hair. She was gripping the stone edge of the low altar tightly, and as she turned around to look back into Manon’s big bull eyes I saw an almost scary lust held in her gaze. I was glad she wasn’t being set loose on me.

“What the fuck are you… aahhhhhh!” The gothic demonologist’s voice broke off into a sexy moan as an inhumanly long black tongue lolled out between the big demon’s teeth, and lashed the exposed pussy before him. Bellenoir was shivering, moaning gently, as Mannon slurped his tongue back into his hungry maw. I could see the big demon running it around his mouth. I felt my sticky dick re-hardening, pushing up beneath Her leather skirt. The heat from her own sex was quite intense beneath her skirt.

“Not yet, pet” she told me as she became aware of my organ, “Watch.”

Bellnoir’s knuckles were whiter than a cumshot on a white White House intern’s dress. I swear, she was almost leaving finger impressions in the stone of the altar. Rattlesnake fast, Mannon’s tongue shot out of his mouth and speared between the swollen labia of the eager woman. She wailed like a banshee as he pushed inexorably towards her cervix. Two large clawed hands slapped down on her arse, as he literally tore the rubber to shreds around her buttocks. I watched him stretch her buttocks apart and push even more tongue inside her stretched out vagina, like a kid trying to get the last bit of a milkshake. His bull nose was pressed right into her arse crack, and hot steamy breath blasted from his nostrils as he ate her out.

“More! More! Please More!” Bellenoir cried between moans, though it seemed as if he must’ve pushed in as far as he could go without causing her more pain than pleasure. He gripped her arse in place though her body shook and writhed, and I saw him rub a finger in the folds of her pussy stretched around his fat tongue. Bellenoir cried her appreciation and stiffened across the altar. Somehow she managed to cry that she was cumming. At the same moment, Mistress pushed Her bloody tongue – my blood – into my mouth, and kissed me with real passion as Mannon continued to ream the squealing Goth with his huge tongue.

The demon pulled away from her streaming genitals, and whipped his tongue back into his mouth. Bellenoir’s pussy was gaping wide, spasming on air as she continued to climax. Credit where it’s due – Mannon gave good head. I felt gentle pressure on my head, and kissed away from Her black lips across crimson skin, down her neck to kiss in the curve of her shoulder. Gentle, quick kisses. Worshipping the flesh. I felt fingers entwined in my hair. See, they never tell you about the tender moments with demonesses’ do they?

Over a perfect shoulder, I caught sight of Mannon standing, with his now erect demon cock standing up like a Pope’s choirboy tamer. As she recovered from her oral climaxes Bellenoir pushed her arse back from the altar. He stood bent over, legs wide, submissively eager to take a demon deep inside her.

“Fuck me, Mannon!” she begged. Turning to look behind herself, I watched her flick black hair away from her eyes and saw them widen at the sight before her – well, behind her. Mannon wrapped a clawed hand around his cock, perhaps showing some truth in the old wives tale about hand and dick size. He began to jerk it, pulling the foreskin - not being of the chosen race and all that - up over the demon lubricant leaking crown, down to the hairy base between goat’s legs.

“What do you want, human?”

“Fuck me! Please!” Bellenoir was begging to be impaled on something you could use as a siege weapon.

I heard a satisfied voice, “See? Free will. Almost all of you humans are the same – can’t control yourself with demons. It’s almost too easy.”

“Surely there are exceptions?” I asked between nuzzling Her neck. I was hard as a rock again, and had difficulty controlling myself as she occasionally brushed her pussy against my cock. She was enjoying my need. Male refractory period be damned – something strange had happened to my balls in hell, probably connected to those huge stingers slammed into them that time. Hurt like a son of a bitch, that did. I listened as Mannon continued to toy with Bellenoir, and wondered if he was going to say “Who’s the Daddy?” or if he actually had standards.

“No Exceptions. In the end times all will fall to Hell. I’ll keep the Archangels in chains for my pleasure, I’ll drink their blood and their corrupted purity for my sustenance. ”

Mannon was jerking his huge cock in a mighty hand, ensuring the infernal dickspit leaked down his length. He rubbed the mighty crown against the sticky bare crotch of the pleading woman. Bellenoir moaned with lust, and pushed back. Her moan rose in pitch as the bulbous crown of the demon dick penetrated her, rising higher as Mannon pushed deeper. He lent over Bellenoir, whispered something to her. She screamed a reply,

“Yes! More! ALL OF IT!”

I winced as Mannon bucked his hips suddenly, and sank a length of cock like my forearm inside the beautiful pale human.

“Hmmm. I’ve never seen him take a woman so gentle. I knew it was a bad idea to get him a Cosmopolitan subscription as a gag gift.”

He grabbed Bellenoir by the hips and pulled out, thrusting again inside. Bellenoir was screaming with lust, shaking her head from side to side as muscular demon began to fuck writhing, screeching, multiple-climaxing human in earnest. What I could see of her face was animalistic, a creature of pure primeval nature. She beat her fists against the stone altar, supported by the bull-headed demon slamfucking her crotch. Bellenoir’s feet were kicking off the ground now, spasming wildly as she was penetrated to the very core of her being. The loud liquid squelching from her freely-flowing snatch was now mixed with the loud slap of Mannon’s mighty hairy balls against her pale ass. He shifted her weight, never slowing his fuckthrusts, and held her with a single hand under her waist. With the other he twisted her head and held it towards my gaze. The light glinting on her facial piercings, and her eyes were rolled up in her head. Her mouth was wide and drooling, open in wordless cries of pleasure. I saw his gaze and realised that she was nothing to him, a sheath for his cock, a source of pleasure; even just the means of putting on a show. Still, since she was getting the best fucking of her life I doubted she cared either.

My vision was obscured monetarily as smoke rose before my eyes, from around Her body. She pulled my head back and grinned a toothy smile at me, as I realised she was now totally naked; her clothes vanished like morning dew. She pressed her perfectly sized, shaped, firm breasts against my still bloody chest. Hard black nipples pushed into me. Once again, I couldn’t longer give less of a toss about the other two in the room. Taloned crimson hands pushed me back against the floor, and I lay flat beneath her. I reached for her, but she clasped her hands around my wrists and pushed them back over my head until she held them strongly in a single hand.

She reached back and pushed me into her, settling her weight on my sticky cock to drive my deep shaft inside her. As a Succubus She was at Her most deadly, but She’d never killed me, never permanently taken my soul – though it was Her property, for I had given it willingly. She ran a talon on my bloody chest and lifted it to Her mouth, slurping my blood into Her mouth erotically. I groaned as Her tongue flicked out around the bloody digit and her eyes closed. She lent down over me again and pressed Her free hand down on my already gripped wrists, dropping a crimson breast to my mouth. I pleasured Her nipple as She began moving on top of me, Her tight slick channel gripping and squeezing better than any human girl ever could. I wanted to cry out my love, my total devotion to Her as inhuman pleasure flowed from my groin. Her mark tingled on my back as I worked my tongue on a hard black nipple whenever it was close enough to my mouth. She rode me faster, harder, kicking sparks on the floor with cloven hooves, man and demon entangled in lust.

Aroused Manon’s nearby display with Bellenoir, it didn’t take Her long to reach a powerful rocking climax.

“Come with me!” She hissed, squeezing my wrists painfully in an iron grip and slamming Herself down on my cock. I came again as Her pussy gushed and spasmed around me, hot and sticky and strongly scented. I fired my load deep into Her demon womb as She howled atop with lust and domination and the pure sexual joy of her climax.

At the same time Mannon brought Bellenoir off again, and began his own mighty floor shaking climax. His heavy balls fired into her like the Russian guns at the valley of death, filling her belly until it was stretching out, and squirting wildly out between the hard, hot demon prick and her tightly stretched pussy lips. The bull-headed demon grunted in time with each pint of cum he sprayed into her, a talent that would earn him a top place in the Japanese film industry if things didn’t work out in hell.

“Little Demonologist! You sought to control me? I am Mannon! MANNON!” He pulled out, and as Bellenoir slid down to the floor in a pool of demon spunk, he continued jerking his cock over her. Spunk was spewing out of her gaping pussy as a river of demon cum splashed off her face, her breasts. She was grinning like the cat who got the… ahem, and reached down to scoop some of the cum leaking from her pussy into her mouth. I assumed she’d been watching too many bad porno movies. Him too, come to that. What happened to the days of a kiss and a cuddle between demon ravager and human ravagee?

It was around about that time that things got freaky. Relatively speaking.

“Mannon. I am Bellenoir…” she told him, and the look on her face was one of cruel pleasure, “Your new mistress.”

Then she uttered a phrase, something that made my skin crawl as it chilled my blood and went through many more of the standard horrified clichés. No, not “I have Maggie Thatcher pornography,” some phrase in some inhuman language - or possibly Scouse. There was an indescribably bright flash of light that hurt even through my reflexively screwed up eyes. I felt a hot palm across my face, protecting my fragile human sight from the thaumic storm that raged about. Mannon had underestimated Bellenoir; she’d drawn power from their coupling in the heart of the demonologist’s sanctum.

The light died for long seconds and then grew up again around Bellenoir. She’d changed; taller, more muscular. Her skin was crimson and horns grew from her forehead. Her eyes were black, though she still retained her facial piercings. Mannon had shrunk; her was perhaps under six feet tall though it was hard to tell as he was on his knees, with a chain attached to the ring in his nose. His bull’s head had shrunk in proportion with his body, and even his phallus had shrunk to more human dimensions.

“At last,” Bellenoir said, and her voice had new resonance, “I have watched you flitting between heaven and hell, and I have bided my time. Did you really think I didn’t know you? Only through deception couched in deception could I take lower Mannon’s guard and take the demon’s power as my own.”

Mistress nodded professionally. She admired the play, the trickery, the sheer sexual deceit. She told me to sleep then, and I dropped into darkness.

***

I woke up this morning back in England. She was asleep beside me in human form, snuggled in against my form. She’s so beautiful, whatever form she wears. I couldn’t remember how things had ended in San Francisco. I still can’t. Was Mannon left as the slave of the newly demon Bellenoir? Later she woke and told me that Mannon had been getting to big for his hooves, and it was only a matter of time before a smart human outwitted him. Mistress had a bet on it having something to do with fiddles, for reasons that escape my humble human mind. But the wanderlust is gone, replaced with a dead certainty that whatever Mistress requires of me I shall do without question, if she leaves me alone for half of eternity I will wait faithfully for her return. I have seen more evil in the hearts of humanity than in the daughters of Lilith.

I don’t think I’ll have to wait for eternity. The final battle will be sooner than any of you can imagine.

The end is nigh.

The End of Hellish Reward III