Satan's Sex Slave

by S. Bockman

Chapters: 1 2 3

Chapter One: The Ritual

"She could be so hot," Jodie heard him say. She knew they didn't see her there, on the other side of the bookshelf, as Churchill High's library was a large one and they couldn't have seen her walk in. All the same she found herself holding her breath... were they actually talking about her?

So far she didn't know whether to be flattered or offended.

"I know man, I know. She's got a hot body on her, and that hair.... woo!" came the other's voice. She was pretty sure it was Craig Johnson, but she hadn't dared take a peak since she began overhearing the conversation.

Either way, now she was definitely flattered.

"All she needs is to get rid of those glasses and dress a little hotter," came the whispered voice of the other guy, the one she didn't recognize.

She found herself self-consciously fidgeting with her glasses at that last remark. It was true, the glasses took something away from her face. Indeed, they made her look a little goofy-- but she needed them to see, as she had a bad case of near sightedness. As for her clothes, Jodie was a little shocked at that comment. She'd always thought she dressed quite nicely. Then again, she'd only just recently transferred from a private school where dress codes were strictly enforced. Compared to most of the girls here her manner of dress was a bit conservative. Suddenly she was feeling embarrassed. But were they talking about her? Although a part of her was hoping they were, another part was beginning to hope they weren't.

"She'll change, man," came the voice of the guy she thought was Craig. "Why don't you ask her out?"

Jodie held her breath.

"I don't know man. I've hardly ever even talked with her. Besides, didn't you say she went to St. Peter's with your cousin?" the other guy responded.

Yep, the other guy was definitely Craig. She knew his cousin, had been pretty good friends with her before she moved up north. Of course, if it was Craig...

That meant they _were_ talking about her.

"Yeah, so what? A lot of people here went to St. Peter's. Hell, Sarah went to St. Peter's! And from what I hear she was kicked out of there anyway. Can't be all bad," came Craig's hushed voice.

Suddenly Jodie heard a crash and realized she had dropped the book she was pretending to read. Cursing herself she bent over to pick it up, and upon straightening found to her horror that Craig and the other guy she now recognized as Joe Pierce were standing at the end of the aisle looking at her.

"Ex---excuse me," she muttered shyly, burying the book into her chest and spinning around. She skittered away awkwardly, nearly running into a book cart but maneuvering around it just in time to avoid a double embarrassment.

Figures, she thought to herself. If they had been talking about her, she just blew her chance at actually getting asked out on a date. She placed the book she'd been holding on a shelf and without slowing down went straight out of the library.

* * * * *

"There you go, getting all worked up again," said Julie. "Over nothing, too."

"Nothing?!?" Jodie exclaimed. "You call that nothing? Two guys actually talking about me, me! Seniors, too! And I screw it up."

Julie shook her head. "Sounds to me like they were putting you down more than anything else. Jerks." She plopped down on the beanbag in Jodie's room, already exhausted with this conversation but fully aware it'd last another hour at least.

Jodie shrugged. "Maybe. But they didn't say anything I haven't been thinking myself... I mean, look at me! I dress like my mother."

"There's nothing wrong with the way you dress. Or your glasses, because I know that's coming next," Julie sighed.

"You can say that because your parents let you shop at the mall," Jodie replied. "I mean, look at you! Compared to me you're positively scandalous!"

"Why you..!" Julie began, but she couldn't keep herself from laughing. She tossed a pillow at her friend who was now laughing as well. Finally she sighed again and looked her friend in the eye. "If you really want a boyfriend, Jodie, you could get one. Who cares if Joe Pierce thinks you dress funny... he dresses funny if you ask me!"

Jodie thought about that. Sad thing was, she realized, she should have had a boyfriend by now, being a junior in high-school. But all she'd ever had was a couple dates, and she really didn't know why. She had the looks, she knew-- at 5'5" tall and 105 pounds, she had a really good body that always got stared at when she wore a bathing suit. With melon sized breasts and a tight, round ass, she knew it wasn't her body that was the problem. And like Joe had commented, her hair was nice, too. Wispy, long and red, she often received complements for it and had even been offered a modeling job a year before. Although she hated to sound immodest, she knew she was beautiful.

But she was shy. Very shy. Having been raised in a strict Catholic house she had always been kept sort of sheltered. All those years of private Catholic school hadn't helped, either. It had made it very difficult for Jodie to meet people when she was forced to transfer to Churchill two months before. It wasn't easy coming to a new school at the tail end of the year, and had it not been for Julie she wouldn't know anyone at the public high school at all. Julie had introduced herself that very first awkward day back in February, inviting her to have a seat at her table during lunch. Since then they had become close friends.

"My glasses make me look nerdy," she finally replied. "I hate them."

"Oh, come on now," Julie soothed. "They're a little thick, but really you look fine in them!"

"A little thick? Julie, they're magnifying glasses!" Jodie exclaimed.

Julie was about to protest when the phone rang.

"Gosh, I hope that's not my boss," Jodie groaned as she grabbed the receiver. "Hello?"

Julie saw her eyes go wide which made her curious as to whom it might be. She stood and walked over to her friend, who's eyes remained locked on hers as she stammered some one-word responses to whoever it was on the other line.

"Who IS it??" Julie whispered. Her friend made a gesture for her to be silent so she plopped down on the mattress next to her, unable to discern from the side of the conversation she could hear what was going on.

"Okay, bye!" Jodie finally finished.

Silence followed, and finally Julie couldn't take it anymore. "Well are you going to tell me who that was?!?" she exclaimed.

"That was Joe," Jodie whispered. A smile came to her lips. "I've got a date!"

* * * * *

"So she said yes?" Craig asked.

"Sure did," Joe replied to his friend. He lit up a cigarette and looked Craig in the eye. "Friday night. That gives us two days to prepare."

Craig nodded. "Plenty of time. So far so good, huh?"

"Yep," Joe grinned. "Everything is going according to plan. Her confidence is up, she has a reason to like me, and best of all," he continued, leaning back in his chair as he took a long drag from his smoke, "she doesn't suspect a thing."

Craig grinned as well. "All right then. Tomorrow night we'll go set it up, then Friday...!"

"Friday," Joe finished for him, "she'll be ours."

* * * * *

Jodie ended up calling off work the next day so she could go shopping. She was so excited about her date she had decided to buy a new outfit-- one that would actually make her look good. And she wouldn't worry about what her parent's would say, either.

I'm sixteen, dammit! she thought to herself. Almost seventeen! I can dress how I want!

She didn't bring Julie with her to the mall, nor did she tell her best friend what she was up to. Julie was an idealist. She thought anyone could get a date just by being themselves, but after two years without a date and an entire lifetime without a boyfriend, Jodie had decided otherwise. Besides, it was easy for Julie to be an idealist. She always had boyfriends, wasn't shy at all, and was a knockout to boot.

After spending nearly three hours at the mall she was finally done. Her final selection ended up being a short skirt, black lace bra with matching panties, and a thin button-up men's dress shirt. She saw women wear that outfit in teeny-bopper movies all the time, and the guys seemed to like them.

She was ready.

* * * * *

"When she gets here you better be out of sight, man," Joe warned his friend as he looked out the window, watching for Jodie's car. It was Friday night, almost eight o' clock. She could show up any minute.

"Relax," Craig grinned. "I'll be downstairs waiting before she gets to the door. You just get her to drink this and, voila!" He handed his friend a bottle of Diet Coke.

"Now you're sure you mixed this correctly?" Joe asked, examining the bottle. "The teacher said his instructions had to be followed perfectly..."

"Chill out, it's right. Look, I think she's here!"

Joe watched as a blue Escort pulled into his driveway. It was her, all right, and without a word Craig disappeared downstairs.

They were ready.

* * * * *

Jodie killed the ignition and looked at herself in the rear-view mirror again. Her makeup was still perfect, with red lipstick and just a hint of blush. Her hair was equally satisfying, and without another thought she took off her glasses.

She had trouble not squinting, but had practiced earlier and was confident she could pull it off. If Joe asked she'd just tell him she had new contacts... truth was the entire world became one big blur without her glasses, but she'd manage. She had to.

She managed to make it all through school without running into him. She knew she shouldn't be but she was nervous-- afraid he'd cancel or something. When he called her after school she'd been sure it was to cancel, but it was only to give her directions to his house. He'd said to meet him there and that they'd go have dinner and then catch a movie together.

Her parents thought she was out with Julie. She'd snuck out of the house in her new outfit, afraid they'd might see, and although she hated lying to her parents she hated getting into arguments with them even more. And they'd never have let her leave the house dressed like that without an argument.

The skirt is too short, she thought to herself.

She tried to calm herself down, then finally got out of the car and began the awkward half-blind walk up to the house.

* * * * *

"Hey," Joe greeted her nonchalantly. "What's up?"

"Not much," Jodie replied meekly. She was doing her best to remain confident, but her shyness was in full force now. She knew without having to look that her face was getting red, a sure sign she was embarrassed.

"Come in," Joe offered. He held the door open for her as she walked past him, and couldn't help but admire the way her ass swayed underneath the short skirt she wore. He closed the door.

Her heart was racing as she entered the foyer, the thought Don't mess this up, Don't mess this up racing through her head. Suddenly she could smell... cooking?

"Aren't we going out to eat?" she managed to say without cracking her voice.

Joe nodded as he headed towards the kitchen. "Yeah, but my ma started a frozen pizza in the oven for me before she left. I just gotta let it finish so I can put it in the fridge, then we can go." He'd been practicing the lie all day, having thought of it with Craig's help.

Truth was his mom had been out of town for two days, and wouldn't be getting back until the following Monday. He'd stuck the pizza in the oven just before she'd arrive to complement the lie that was designed to keep her there long enough.

"Oh," Jodie responded. She found herself waiting just outside the kitchen before Joe took a seat at the table and looked over at her expectantly. "Sorry!" she blurted as she rushed into the room and took a seat across from him.

"I like your outfit. It new?" Joe asked as he took a drink from a can of coke.

"What, this? No, no!" Jodie lied. She shrugged. "Just haven't worn it in awhile, that's all."

"Ah," Joe nodded. "Hey, want something to drink?"

"Uh..." Jodie began. She wasn't thirsty, but he was already at the fridge. "Sure," she finally said.

He handed her a twenty-ounce bottle of Diet Coke after opening it for her. She took a long drink from it then placed it on the table before her. "What's so funny?" she asked nervously, noticing the broad grin on Joe's face.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "I'm just thinking about a movie I saw last night."

Jodie nodded slowly, taking another drink from her pop. Just then the oven timer went off, and she saw Joe open it up and take out the pizza. It smelled good-- Jodie hadn't eaten all day and she was starving. "So, where are we going?" she asked.

Joe didn't respond. He took the pizza and dumped it into the garbage, surprising the younger girl. "Uh," she began. "Is everything okay?"

He was grinning again, which made her incredibly nervous. She was beginning to wish she hadn't come over in the first place. There was something creepy about him...

"Yeah, we can go," Joe said. He didn't sound entirely convincing but Jodie couldn't wait to leave, so she stood and smiled nervously.

"Are you going to drive?" she asked.

Suddenly her vision began to blur further. For a moment she thought it would pass, but instead a wave of dizziness overtook her and she had to grip the chair to keep from falling. She heard herself groan out loud as she struggled to remain standing.

"You okay?" Joe asked, almost sarcastically.

"I--- I---," Jodie began, shaking her head as her thoughts began to cloud together. Suddenly she felt a tingling sensation run throughout her body, and the last thing she saw before losing consciousness was Joe, standing next to her, that wicked grin splayed prominently on his face.

* * * * *

"And you were worried," Craig laughed as he looked down on Jodie's unconscious form. "I told you I prepared it right!"

Joe hadn't quit smiling since Jodie had collapsed a few moments before. Currently he was kneeling over her, his hand running slowly up her leg, under her skirt...

"Knock that off," Craig snapped. "They'll be time for that later. She'll only be unconscious for about twenty minutes, so we have to hurry."

"Yeah, I know," Joe said, standing up. "I just can't wait to fuck her. Did you check out her ass?" With that Joe leaned over again and lifted up Jodie's skirt, revealing the thin black panties which covered the young woman's tight, firm butt.

"Enough!" Craig yelled. "We haven't time for this. We have to get her ready for the ritual."

Joe stood again and sighed. "Okay, let's do it."

Together the two picked up the immobile form of their victim, and carried her down into the basement. It had taken them hours to properly prepare the room and consecrate it for their ritual. The teacher had been very specific about how it had do be done. Now the small basement was stripped of all it's normal furnishings, all the boxes had been moved to the garage, the candles had been set out, and the sacrifice prepared.

All that was left was to prepare the recipient.

* * * * *

Jodie awoke in darkness. The first thing she noticed was that she was restrained-- she was lying down on a cold surface, spread-eagled, some sort of rope attached to each of her limbs forcing her to remain that way. She was groggy, trying to remember what had happened, and how she had ended up this way when suddenly she heard Joe's voice.

"Wake up, buttercup!" he mewed into her ear.

And now she remembered.

"Wh-- what are you doing to me?" she asked frantically. There was a blaze of fire above her, and now she could make out the grinning expressions of Joe and his friend Craig. They were dressed in black robes, each holding a torch which was now lit, casting evil looking shadows across their faces. Neither of them responded to her question. Instead, Joe whispered something in Craig's ear, and he in turn nodded and walked away.

"You look very beautiful this way, Jodie," Joe said soothingly, bending over so that his face was only inches from hers. She saw his eyes look down her body, and it was then that she realized she was no longer wearing her blouse or skirt. Only her panties and bra remained, and it was then that it became clear to her what these two were going to do.

She began to cry. "Please, let me go!" she begged with a shaking voice. "I-- I wanna go home! I wanna go ho-ho-home!!!"

Joe raised his eyebrows, as if amused by her begging. "You're not going anywhere, darling. We've got big plans for you..."

Jodie became aware that the room was much brighter. Her mind was dazed, in shock at her predicament, unable to fully understand what was going on but quite aware that she was at their mercy. Instinctively she tried pulling at her restraints-- no good. The ropes were strong and taut. She couldn't move, save her head.

Craig was back. "All the torches and candles are lit. It is time," he said.

Joe nodded. "Jodie, listen to me. I want you to listen very carefully, because I'm only going to explain this once. Understand?"

Jodie was unable to nod or speak-- she was choked up with tears, her body trembling as the helplessness of her situation sank in on her. She blubbered something about wanting to go home, then began to cry in earnest.

Suddenly Joe slapped her, hard, across the face. "Jodie!"

She gasped at the blow, its sting reverberating throughout her face.

"You need to be quiet, Jodie, and listen. UNDERSTAND?" Joe said sternly.

Jodie's jaw opened and closed as she struggled to compose herself. She was still breathing hard, completely afraid, but was able to finally say, "Y--yes!!!"

Joe nodded, satisfied by her answer. "Very good, Jodie. Now I'll explain to you what's going on.

"You see," he said, standing up again and glowering down at her, "Craig and I serve a being you know as Satan, and we know as Lord. Soon, you will call him that as well. We're going to perform a ritual on you to make you his slave and servant. From this ritual you will receive great power, but in return you will serve the Dark One with your mind, body and spirit for all of eternity.

"As a reward for giving you to him, the Dark One will make us your masters here on earth. You will follow our commands and do as we say, every ounce of free will gone from your being for as long as you live. And when you die, you will be his. Understand?"

"Wh--why?" Jodie cried, eyes stinging with tears.

"The ritual will only work on a virgin," Craig spoke up. "You were the perfect choice. Many of the girls we wanted originally for this... honor... have already lost their cherry. And many of the virgins we know are just plain ugly, and we didn't want anything to do with them. You, however, are both beautiful and pure. The perfect vessel."

Jodie didn't really believe what they were saying, but no matter what she knew she was in a bad situation. These two were obviously crazy, and she was helpless. A calm settled over her then as she began thinking of how to escape and save herself.

"We will give you a choice, however, before we begin," Joe said. "If you willingly renounce Jesus and the Christian faith, pledging your soul to our master the Lord of the Underworld, we will make things.... easier for you. What say you?"

"I-- no! I'll never renounce Jesus!" Jodie yelled, suddenly filled with righteous pride. "I'll never serve Satan!"

Joe's face hardened. "You'll serve him, Jodie, whether you do so willingly or not. When the time comes you _will_ offer yourself to him."

Jodie began to cry again.

* * * * *

"En nomine, son carbounde nominus," Craig bellowed stolidly. He was standing at the first point of the pentagram that had been drawn upon the ground earlier, the same point of the pentagram Jodie's head now laid upon. At Jodie's left leg, the third point of the pentagram, Joe was standing. At every other point black candles had been set. She made quite a sight there, lying bound upon the floor. She was laid spread eagled, with her left and right legs in the third and fourth points of the star, respectively, and her left and right arms in the second and fifth points. Her limbs were held in place by rope tied around either a wrist or ankle, pulled tight and tied to a stake. There were four such stakes, each for its own limb, and they were the only things that kept her immobile. They were all that was needed.

Such a beautiful creature, Joe thought to himself. Her body was pulled as tight as the ropes, her flawless white skin stretched in every direction. Her large breasts heaved up and down as she sobbed there, her head turned to one side and her long wispy red hair splayed upon the ground, framing her beautifully innocent face. Underneath his robe Joe was naked, and he could feel himself growing aroused.

"En nomine, sane poynya nay," Joe responded his part of the ritual. He could already feel the effects of it inside the room. A acidic, rotting smell began wafting up from the floor, and the torches' began to flicker out, leaving only the candles to see by. Craig turned around ritualistically and bent over to pick up a dagger as Joe began the chant. He turned back and held the dagger out, pointing it at each of the four corners of the room, saying the chant in unison with Joe at each.

When he was done at the fourth corner, they suddenly felt the ground begin to gently shake. "Fran sistimo, dire lore cristous, un conulay!" they continued chanting, louder now.

Joe turned then and opened a small cage that was sitting on the ground behind him. Inside it was the sacrifice-- a light brown chicken, squawking wildly as Joe grabbed it by its neck and pulled it out. Its feathers flew as Joe turned and held it up over Jodie's body. The chicken had been prepared earlier they had consecrated it with wine and their own blood, and had performed a long ceremony over it. At the time it had seemed silly to pay so much attention to the bird, but now they were glad they did.

Their voices rose as the chant continued, the ground still shaking, and Craig's dagger still held out...

* * * * *

Jodie was a wreck. She'd been crying since her captors had begun the ritual, but now she was frightened beyond all comprehension. She saw the chicken being dangled above her, could sense the pure evil in the room and the ground shaking beneath her. This was really happening; she was really part of an evil ritual.

What was it Joe had said? That when the time came she would offer herself to Satan? She didn't believe it. And yet he had sounded so sure and confident, it worried her...

Suddenly the eerie sounds of their chanting ceased, replaced by silence. And then she felt Craig's dagger on her shoulder, its cool metal dragging across her skin. She screamed, for a moment thinking she would be killed, and then felt as her bra strap was cut, followed by the next one. The dagger slid between her breasts as she struggled to lift her head and see, trying not to cry too loudly or risk impaling her breasts upon the blade. But she felt it slide harmlessly between her orbs, then pull up, cutting the bra off in the process.

Her head dropped back to the hard ground in relief. She hadn't been hurt. But then the realization sunk in that she was now topless! She could feel her tits hanging now, having been released from the tight bra. She screamed again, shaking her head and tossing her long red hair around in the process. She couldn't see anything except for the dancing shadows on the ceiling above her, but she could hear Craig's chanting voice as he stepped in between her legs.

Then she felt the dagger sliding underneath the waistband of her black-lace panties, sliding down between her legs. She felt its cold metal on her pubic hair and froze in fear. She didn't think he was going to intentionally cut her, but the thought of him slipping...

And then he was pulling the dagger back towards him, taking the panties with it. Her legs, being pulled apart, prevented them from going too far down, and it was at that point that the dagger sliced through the thin material, tearing her panties in half. They fell off and onto the floor.

Now she was completely naked.

He gathered up the torn garments and returned to his place in the circle to rejoin the chant. The chicken was still dangling above her, and she noticed for the first time that Joe now had his other hand extended, with the dagger held out...

Joe continued chanting but couldn't help but stare at the beautiful girl bound beneath him, now completely naked. He noticed the way her large breasts jiggled as she panted, then screamed, then sobbed...

Craig had given him the ceremonial dagger, which Joe now brought slowly to the chicken's throat. He locked eyes with Craig as they repeated the eerie Latin words they didn't understand in unison, then abruptly stopped. At that moment Joe heard the young woman laying in the pentagram scream as he slid the knife across the chicken's throat, an eruption of dark red blood shooting out the wound and spraying over Jodie's helpless body.

* * * * *

Jodie could only scream as the blood splattered over her white skin, onto her tits and stomach, onto her face and pussy. She felt the warm liquid oozing over her body, unable to see for she had shut her eyes tight. The room was silent save for her screaming.

And then suddenly that stopped, too. Something came over her as the gooey red blood seeped between her tits, down to her stomach, into her patch of light fuzzy pubic hair. An insanity of sorts began forming in her mind, and screaming no longer seemed the appropriate thing to do.

Slowly the chanting sounds began again, a new one, and Jodie found herself drifting off into what at first she thought was sleep, but slowly she became aware to be something else entirely. Rather than the darkness which came so easily with sleep, she found her surroundings growing brighter and brighter until it was difficult to keep her eyes open.

Then she was floating, towards something or someone she couldn't be sure.

* * * * *

Craig and Joe continued the new chant in low, rhythmic voices. Upon the ground Jodie still lay covered in blood, but her eyes were wide open and staring off now as if at something they could not see. In the room a wind had risen up, whipping the black cloaks around the bodies of the two teenage boys, and making the candles flicker. The wind was growing in intensity as the two looked on.

Craig knew that the critical moment had come. There was nothing they could do now but wait. Through the chanting they had called evil spirits into the room, and through the sacrifice they had invited Satan to take the young victim and make her his. They had made themselves vessels of his unholy will, and all they could do now was wait and see if he would accept it.

Which is where Jodie came in. They knew that she would not willingly offer herself to the Dark One... Catholic girls like her would rather die than denounce their messiah, their Christ. But the potion they had given her would take care of that. Joe had told her and Craig knew it was true that when the time came, she would offer herself to their lord.

When Joe had first approached Craig with the potion and its recipe, a million ideas had occurred to him about how to use it. Joe had demonstrated its power, how it could be made to control people, to use and manipulate them. Immediately Craig had thought about all the girls he would like to try it on...

But then Joe had gone on to explain how the potion, which he called Swinefen, was unstable. He explained that it could backfire easily making it too big of a risk. However, Joe had said that the person who had given him the recipe had also given him instructions on how to use it in conjunction with an ancient ritual used in the selling of souls and the creation of witches. The Swinefen could be used, he explained, to make a normally unwilling person willing to sell their soul...

But it had to be a virgin. Months had passed, three months exactly, since that first day Joe had brought Craig to see the old man he introduced as The Teacher. They had gone over the plan; given literature about how the ritual must be performed, how to make the potion, when to use it, etc... but the victim had to be a virgin or the ritual would not work. Satan would only accept a pure sacrifice.

And now the time had come. From what the Teacher said, Jodie would now be approached by the Devil where he would ask her to be his. If she said yes, she would gain incredible power; become his witch, his slave on earth. And since he and Joe had been the ones to set up the ritual, he would give them power over her in return.

Craig smiled as he thought of all the things he was going to get young Jodie to do for him. First though, there was the wait.

* * * * *

At first Jodie had felt incredibly free. Her spirit had been set loose from the confines of her body, and the world--all of existence-- was her oyster. Then there came the tugging as she was pulled downwards into a pit of darkness and heat, of rank odor and screaming voices. She wasn't dead though, she knew that. She could still sense her body laying naked and bloody in Joe Pierce's basement, and subsequently she wasn't afraid. Her life would go on. Death hadn't claimed her, yet. The screaming voices and heat grew as the darkness became more impenetrable with each passing second and her spirit was pulled down further and further until suddenly all was quiet. The pulling stopped. The heat dissipated. And fear came back to poor Jodie.

Another spirit, the first she'd yet to see, appeared before her. It was a dark spirit full of hate and rage and Jodie knew right off that it could only be the Fallen One, the Prince of Lies himself. Satan. Although Jodie knew she wasn't in hell per se, that she was still alive and not subject to his unholy rule, she could feel the fear welling up and spreading throughout her being.

"Jodie Dickinson," entombed a loud voice around her. It seemed to be coming from inside her head, from the void above and the darkness below. The dark spirit whirled around hers, in complete darkness and utter silence. "The Ritual of Offering has been made. I accept you as my vessel on earth. Do you renounce Jesus Christ and all His lies to freely join me and my minions?"

It wasn't that she wanted to say yes. But before she could even think about what he had said she realized it was too late. With a sinking feeling she sensed her spirit open up to his, offering herself into his world.

The last thought that would ever go through the old Jodie's mind was Joe's ominous prediction from before: "When the time comes you _will_ offer yourself to him."

"Then a witch you shall be, Jodie Dickinson," the evil and empty spirit bellowed out to her. "You shall be mine on earth, body and soul, in all your actions and thoughts to serve me and my glorious will. In return for your services you shall receive the ancient covenant of witchcraft.

"So says the Dark Lord of All," the voiced concluded.

And suddenly Jodie found herself back in her body, staring up at two curious looking teenage boys.

* * * * *

The ropes binding her at the wrists and ankles came undone.

Craig and Joe looked on in astonishment as the nylon cords seemed to take on a life of their own, untying and freeing their captive. She continued laying their for a moment as the two teenagers held their breath, afraid to move or even make a sound.

Suddenly she sat up. Her eyes were glazed over, her blood-spattered face seeming to grow paler by the second as she sat their motionless. Shadows from the candles, which had burned now down to their bases, danced over her tender naked body.

Still they looked on, hardly believing what was happening. Was it over? Had it worked? They dared to lean in close to study her vacant looking eyes which suddenly shot over to the candles and with a hiss went out, plunging the small basement into darkness.

"Shit!" Craig exclaimed. "Get the lights, man!"

Joe was already fumbling at the wall, looking for the switch.

"There," he breathed in relief as the room was once again illuminated, this time by the lone incandescent light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

"What the fuck," Joe started when he looked over to the vacant pentagram. Jodie wasn't there.

"There, man!" Craig exclaimed, pointing to Joe's right, into the corner of the basement.

Joe looked to see Jodie standing their, still naked and blood-stained, arms folded down in front of her and head dropped leaving her long red hair dangling over her breasts. She was motionless, almost like a statue.

The two friends looked at each other nervously, neither moving from the spots. Their hearts were racing as the realization and enormity of what they had done began to sink in. Laughter filled the room then, and Joe looked over to see his friend howling in delight.

"We did it, man!" he cheered. "Look at her! The ritual worked! Did you SEE that shit with the ropes?!?"

A nervous smile formed on Joe's lips. "Yeah," he began. Taking the initiative he walked slowly to the new witch until he was standing before her.

"Jodie?" he said softly.

Still, she remained motionless.

"She's ours now!" Craig continued, running over to join his friend. "Jodie! Snap out of it!"

Click, clack, click, clack...

They heard the sound from the stairway. Both spun around to look, unable to see up into its darkness, their eyes as wide as dishes.

Click, clack, continued the sound. Click, clack...

"What's going on..." Craig whispered.

"Shh!" Joe snapped.

The sound continued for a couple more seconds, then stopped.

"Familiar," Jodie suddenly said, as if awakening from a trance. She pushed past the two in her way and headed towards the stairwell, out from which walked a large oil-black Doberman Pincher.

"Familiar?" Craig asked in a whisper.

Joe was nodding, the nervous smile returning. "Yeah, man, I read about this. Satan gives her an animal familiar to seal their pact... you know what this means? It DID work! She is a witch! OUR witch!"

The two looked on as the naked teenage girl knelt down mechanically as the large black dog ran over to meet her. Neither had ever seen such a large Doberman in their lives. Unusually muscled and sleek, the dog moved gracefully as it sniffed at Jodie's upturned hand then proceeded to lick it.

And then to both of their surprise, the girl got down on her hands and knees, and sniffed at the dog's snout in return. The dog began circling her, wagging its short tail as it moved behind her then back around, all the while sniffing at her bloody body and long red hair.

"Yes," they heard Jodie nod. She whipped her head over, revealing the smooth skin of the back of her neck. "Yes!"

Suddenly the dog growled and leaped at the young woman's neck and sank its teeth in. She howled in pain as blood spurted out of the wound.

"SHIT!" Craig yelled, stepping forward as if to do something.

"No, you fool!" Joe responded, restraining his friend. "This is part of it! The final pact she has to feed her familiar with her own blood or it'll die. A new nipple, probably a small one, will grow their where she's been bitten!"

"You mean," Craig replied in shock, "she has to feed that thing?"

Joe nodded.

* * * * *

The large dog continued suckling at the nipple that had grown at the base of her neck. At first it had hurt Jodie very much, but as the nipple grew the initial wound disappeared and the animal fed. She could feel herself growing closer to the beast with every drop of blood it took from her.

When the dog had attacked her she had been knocked over so that now she lay on her stomach at an awkward angle. She struggled to keep her neck in a good position for her familiar as its mighty jaw remained locked around it, her blood spraying into his mouth.

And then it let go, causing the new witch to heave in relief at the sudden influx of power into her body. She could feel the link forming, and she smiled, rolling over slowly onto her back and looking up into the beast's large black eyes.

She could hear Craig and Joe whispering to each other, but right now they didn't concern her. First things first, she thought. She could feel the tingling between her legs, calling her to finish what had begun, and gain the power she needed to deal with her captors.

Sitting up she began petting her dog, who was sitting and watching her with knowing eyes. She pet him roughly behind the ears, whispering to him words which hadn't been spoken in centuries, knowing that he understood. And then she got back on all fours.

When the dog leaped upon her back she sighed in nervous frustration. The dog wrapped its front legs around her waist, its claws digging gently into her flat stomach, as it scooted its lower body forward towards her soft round ass.

She heard Craig exclaim something in surprise, but continued ignoring him. A passion had taken over her body. She was literally trembling in excitement, her virgin pussy growing damp as the large furry creature moved itself closer...

Jodie reached back and grabbed the dog's long hard prick, holding it gently in her hand. How strange it was to feel for the first time what a penis was like although it was a dog's penis. She stroked it gently as she guided it towards her awaiting slit. When she could feel it pressing into her she let go and began pushing her ass backwards, pushing herself onto the dog's throbbing organ.

"Uhhh!" she moaned aloud at the first feeling of penetration. Her slit was slick now with her juices, but it didn't make getting all of the dog's furry meat into her much easier. Her tight cunnie wasn't used to being violated, but slowly it stretched to receive the canine's cock.

She began panting with the effort, letting her head drop forward and bounce in time to her breathing. She was using all her strength to keep herself up, as the doggie weight hooked behind her threatened to make her collapse. Just as she began to feel she could no longer push back and keep herself on her hands anymore, the beast suddenly started pushing forwards, plunging his prick into her tight, virgin cunt-hole.

"ARGH!" Jodie squealed in pain when her familiar's cock ran into the barrier that was her virginity. It didn't stop him, though. He began pumping in earnest now, determined it seemed to break through and get all the way inside its master. Her body lurched forward with each thrust as she was taken, quite literally, doggie-style.

And then she felt the ripping sensation deep inside her belly as her hymen finally gave way to the battering ram that was the Doberman's dick. "YES!!!" she cried out in pain. It was pain, quite incredible pain actually, but at the same time she felt her body tingle all over in excitement and pleasure as the doggie's penis plunged the rest of the way into her.

Jodie trembled in perverse pleasure as the dog began avidly humping into her cunt sheath. With every thrust the furry cock now damp with her maidenhood's bleeding and vaginal juices ran over her engorged clitty. Quakes of orgasmic pleasure rippled throughout her body with every thrust of the dog's cock. Her entire body seemed charged now, ready to explode practically, from the brutal rutting she was receiving.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" she panted incoherently. Unable to support her weight anymore, she gave in and allowed her upper body to drop to the cold cement floor. The dog didn't stop his fucking, however. His penis continued to shove in and out of her slippery twat, over and over, increasing in speed and subsequently the carnal pleasure Jodie felt.

Suddenly she climaxed, howling in a blubbering, screeching manner as the orgasm finally claimed her. It reverberated throughout her entire young body, engulfing her from head to toe, causing her mind to spin and vision to swim. Her mouth was now twisted in a desperate smile --desperate for more.

A bulge had begun growing in the dog's shaft, reminding Jodie that it wasn't over yet. At first it felt like a golf ball had been shoved into her vagina, but the bulge continued growing and, if it was possible, the dog began hammering into her even faster. Her tits were pressed flat against the cold floor, and with each thrust from the dog her body was literally dragged backwards then pushed forward, sliding her erect nipples over the cool concrete in the process. Sparks of orgasmic rapture shot out from her tiny nipples like a flint drawn across steel, causing Jodie to fly into her second ever orgasm.

The fucking continued, but Jodie could no longer grunt in pleasure. Her mind had become a blob of depraved lewdity as she mentally pictured herself, her tiny teenage form, getting fucked by the large black Doberman. She was drooling and muttering things, but besides that the only sound was the slurping of the dog's cock inside her twat and his constant panting.

The bulge had grown considerably, and was now the size of a baseball. Jodie felt as if her cunt-canal would burst from the pressure. The pain was intense, and so was the orgasmic pleasure as the cock slammed home again and again, sending Jodie into yet another orgasm as the dog prepared to dump his seed.

And then it happened. The dog's hot cum erupted between her legs, the doggie sperm flooding her insides as it shrank. Jodie somehow worked up the energy to cry out once again at the feeling, arching her neck to howl at the ceiling in a flurry of climatic pleasure.

Then her new familiar's cock began to shrink. The dog dismounted her, and Jodie's exhausted body collapsed to the floor, cum leaking from between her legs, a drunken smile upon her face.

* * * * *

Jodie rested for a moment before focusing her attention on her two would-be masters.

Craig and Joe were still standing in the corner of the basement, staring awestruck at the red-head who laid upon the floor. She sat up, a slight smile upon her lips, then stood defiantly, her dog and familiar sitting obediently next to her, his tail wagging.

Craig was shaking his head. "I can't believe what I just saw," he chuckled. "You fucked the dog!"

She blinked slowly, then looked at Joe. He remained silent.

Nobody moved for a long moment, then Craig spoke up again. "Uh, okay... Joe," he said, turning to his friend. "What do we do with her now?"

"I'm not sure," Joe responded.

"But she's ours, right?" Craig asked in annoyance.

Joe squinted his eyes as he looked up and down the gorgeous girl's body. "I... guess so," he concluded.

"Excellent!" Craig stated. "Okay, Jodie. Go upstairs and wash all that dog-juice out of you... I don't want sloppy seconds from no fucking dog! And clean off that chicken blood too, while you're at it!" He was grinning from ear to ear.

Jodie's smile broadened, but other than that she didn't move a muscle.

Joe stepped forward. "You are ours, Jodie Dickinson," he commanded. "Do as he said."

"The only way you'll see this cum cleaned out of me," she said, smiling evilly, "is if you lick it out yourself."

A stunned silence followed. "What?" Joe asked.

Jodie continued smiling, her eyes flickering back and forth between the two teens. "Which of you wants to suck it out of my cunt?"

Neither responded.

"What the fuck's going on, man?" Craig finally asked.

"That's what I thought," Jodie smiled.

Without warning the dog lunged at Craig in a frenzied growl, sinking its large teeth into the teen's neck. Craig never knew what hit him. He was dropped to the floor, the dog standing squarely on his chest, and with a mighty snap of his neck ripped Craig Johnson's throat out.

"SHIT!!!" Joe screamed, jumping back from the spray of blood that followed.

Jodie didn't move as she watched her pet finished off his victim. "Joe, Joe, Joe," she smiled, turning her head to look at him.

His eyes were wide in fear, all color drained from his face as he pressed his back up to the wall in terror. "Jo... Jodie," he stammered. "I comm command you to..."

"Command me, Joe?" Jodie asked innocently. Walking towards him slowly she continued, "What makes you think you can command me? Hmm?"

"The the ritual!" Joe protested.

She was standing scant inches in front of him now, so close he could feel her nipples drag across his chest as she shook her head.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," she scolded. "I can only serve one master, Joe. And we both know who that is!"

Joe shook his head, unable to break eye-contact with the sixteen-year-old. "I... I serve him, too!!"

Jodie frowned. "Yes, you do. Tell me Joe, how is it you were able to get me to willingly give myself to him? After all, just this morning I was as pure and Christian as one could be..."

"The Teacher!" Joe blurted out of fear. "He gave me a potion!"

"The Diet Coke?" Jodie sniffed.

Joe nodded frantically. "Yes, yes! I put it in that! It's called Swinefen, it forced you to follow my orders! Do what I say!"

"Hmm," Jodie thought. "And you told me I'd give myself to him. Very clever. I suppose this... teacher... taught you the ritual, too?"

"Yes, that's it!" Joe responded, his voice cracking. "He said you'd be our slave afterwards!"

Jodie nodded. Turning her back to him he heard her say, "He was wrong."

Joe gasped when he heard the growling. The dog lunged at him, and it was over.

* * * * *

Twenty minutes later Jodie had finished showering, whistling the whole time in fanatical glee. She stepped out of the tub and dried herself off, blow dried her hair, then went in search of some clothes she could wear.

She could smell the gas in the air already. Smiling all the more, she wandered into Joe's mother's room and stole a blouse and pair of blue jeans, put them on, then went back out into the family room where her familiar waited.

"Yes, it's time to get out of here," she said to the dog. "How do I look?"

The dog didn't respond, of course, but Jodie took his wagging tail as a sign of approval. Moving to the kitchen she turned on the stove, then returned. "Let's go," she called.

They got into her car and drove off. By the time they reached the end of the street they heard the explosion when the heat from the stove finally ignited the gas-filled house. Whistling once again, Jodie drove happily the rest of the way home.

* * * * *

"You wanted to see me?" came the soft voice of the young woman.

Father Rickle looked up from his studies. "Yes, yes... come in, Ellen."

Ellen Samson walked into the small room that was Father Rickle's study. She had never figured out why the priest had chosen this, of all the offices in the church, to be his own. Nor did she ever question him about it.

As usual the cramped room was dark, illuminated only by a sole candle upon the priest's desk. "Have a seat," he smiled, gesturing to one of two chairs in front of the desk.

She did as she was told.

"So," Father Rickle continued, a smile upon his wrinkled face. Ellen didn't know how old the priest was, but he was at least sixty years her senior. "I see you've dyed your hair again."

Ellen nodded. "I got sick of the red."

Father Rickle nodded. "Black is very becoming on you, I must say."

She smiled faintly. "Thank you," she responded.

"Now, to the business at hand," Father Rickle began, growing serious. "The ritual was completed an hour ago."

Ellen nodded again. "I... think I felt it," she replied.

"Yes, I believe you did," Father Rickle smiled, leaning back in his high-backed chair. "You've learned quite a bit in the last six months. Much faster, I might add, than anyone else I've ever trained."

She smiled again.

"Ellen," he said in a low voice, leaning forward. "The ritual was a success. That girl is now a witch."

Ellen didn't respond.

The priest studied her for a long moment. "You don't approve," he concluded.

"It's not my place to second-guess you, master," Ellen replied meekly.

"Nonetheless, you don't think I should have done what I did, do you?" the priest asked.

Ellen considered for a moment. She wasn't used to sharing her own ideas with the priest, but she'd noticed recently that he had begun allowing her to speak her mind. "I just don't think it was a profitable trade-off," she finally admitted.

Father Rickle remained motionless. "Explain," he said.

"Well," Ellen continued softly, "I don't see the logic. We had Joe Pierce... I brought him over myself back in December. He was my first... and only, I might add. Craig would have been ours as well, had you let me take him."

The priest nodded in satisfaction. "And you believe two for one wasn't a good trade?"

"Exactly," Ellen responded. "Besides, this... witch... we don't know anything about her. How can we be sure she'll join us?"

The priest smiled broadly. "You needn't worry, young Ellen. It was never my intention for her to join us. Indeed she never will. I have a different purpose for her, which was well worth Joe's life, and that of his would-be partner."

Ellen furrowed her brow. "You mean, this... Jodie... we're not to control her?"

"No," Father Rickle replied. "We're to watch her. To study her. There is much to learn from this young witch... and whether she wants to or not, she'll further our goals merely by existing."

"But our goals... Father, I thought our goal was to gain more members," Ellen explained. "We're back to our original numbers, now. You, Father Matthew, the six, Robbie and me."

Father Rickle smiled once again. "Ellen, you learn quickly. You're my most promising student... but there are things I cannot yet reveal to you.

"But I'll say this," he said sternly, in a low and menacing voice. "Our goal is broader than merely gaining members."

Ellen nodded. "And this... Jodie. What if she ever comes after us?"

"Then," the priest said simply, "I'll have to destroy her."

Chapter Two: In the Pale of Moonlight

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

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

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

"Rodsberry."

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

"Shit," he muttered underneath his breath.

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

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

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

Audrey nodded with a cigarette dangling between her lips. As she searched the contents of her apron for a lighter Franklin leaned across the table and lit it for her. "Thank you," she mumbled, then took a long hit from the Marlboro.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Joe Pierce?" Franklin offered.

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

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

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

"Are you okay?" Audrey asked gently.

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

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

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

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

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

"Expect a busy night," Franklin warned.

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

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

"Because of Joe?" Audrey asked insightfully.

Franklin nodded.

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

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

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

"I might," the teenager shrugged.

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

"Later," Franklin whispered.

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How sickly typical, she thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She walked quickly out of her room and descended the staircase to the foyer, looking around in disgust at the decor of her house. A couple minutes later and she was in the kitchen. Her father was sitting at the table reading the newspaper and drinking some coffee. Next to him sat her little sister, Michelle, who wore a pair of overalls and a light blue t shirt. Jodie's mom, she saw, was at the stove, finishing up on the sizzling bacon.

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

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

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

"Where are your glasses!" she heard her mom suddenly exclaim.

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

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

"Oh, it was fine," she smiled.

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

I have to shut her up before she complicates things, the young witch thought to herself.

Leaving her new dog in her Escort, Jodie made her way through the parking lot towards the statue of a giant eagle which stood outside the mall's J.C. Penny's. Sitting there, as expected, was her friend. Julie was quite wonderful looking, Jodie had to admit. She was about five feet eleven inches tall with shoulder-length jet-black hair. Her most striking feature was her mouth: when her full red lips stretched out in a smile they revealed her glistening white teeth, perfectly straight and cared for, her large blue eyes matching its happiness. Her neck melted neatly into her medium frame, which in turn made the perfect shelf on which to place her large, firm, 36d breasts. She dressed smartly in short skirts and tight designer tees, or wore equally tight blue-jeans and stylishly patterned shirts. Today she was wearing a short skirt and a matching tight red-and-white patterned shirt. But she wasn't smiling.

"Jodie!" she called, voice full of relief and concern. She looked like she had been crying.

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

"I thought at first... I thought..." Julie whimpered, "I thought you might have been there!"

Jodie hugged her friend tightly, then stepped back. "No, I wasn't," she said gravely. "Joe called me after I got home from school. He said he couldn't go out... I... I don't know why..."

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

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

* * * * *

Jodie whistled happily as she wandered through the mall. After talking with her friend about the "travesty" of Joe and Craig's deaths for about twenty minutes over lunch, Jodie pretended she was too upset to hang out. With her friend finally convinced they said their goodbyes, and Julie had headed off into the parking lot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes," Jodie sniffed.

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

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

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

"And you were so upset you couldn't come to work?" he asked sarcastically. "But you could go shopping?" He indicated her bags. Shit, Jodie thought. Suddenly a smile came to her lips. To hell with it, she concluded.

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

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

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

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

"Shh," she cooed, sliding off the chair and onto her knees. Her left hand now cupped over the growing bulge in his pants, rubbing back and forth over it as her right hand began tugging at his zipper. Mr. Larson didn't move. He was unsure what to do-- part of him knew he had to stop her but at the same time she had initiated it. It was all happening so quickly...

When the zipper of the khakis was undone she reached up to unbutton the pants. Once completed she easily pulled them, along with his boxers, down past his knees, his long cock hanging thickly between his legs for her to see. She looked up at her boss again. Licking her mouth she cooed, "Can I... do anything for you, Mr. Larson?"

The black man didn't know what to say. Then he felt it; the wonderful sensation of his semi-erect penis entering the young girl's tiny wet mouth, her warm tongue licking its head as it did. He heard himself groan out loud at the sensation, felt his large member go rock hard almost instantly at the same time.

The penis was nearly too large for her mouth. She kept it open wide as she licked and sucked forward, taking the organ deep within her. Gently she grasped the base of the black penis with her left hand, and with her right she began cupping the African-American's hairy balls. "Jo-Jodie," she heard him moan.

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

At the same time, however, the young witch felt herself growing aroused. This was the first penis she'd ever had in her mouth; it was so soft and yet hard, slick now with her saliva. She began to increase the tempo of her ministrations, sucking it in as far as she could then out to its head, running her tongue around it the whole time.

She felt his hands on the back of her head now, pressing into her soft red hair. He was guiding her head back and forth as she continued to blow him; she could feel his muscled legs trembling, his body leaning back harder on the desk. Suddenly, when only the head was in her mouth, she felt his hands tighten preventing her from taking it in again.

He pulled his cock out of her mouth, and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, lifting her off the ground and pulling her to her feet. She was helpless in his tight grasp; he held her in front of him, looking her hard in the eyes, his full of lust. She continued smiling. He seemed to make a decision at that point. Without hesitation he spun around, so that now she was the one pressing into the desk. A moment later she found herself with her back to him having been twisted around easily by the strong man.

Without a word he pressed her forwards until her sizeable chest was squashed against the top of the desk. Her arms laid sprawled helplessly to her sides, her left cheek digging into a pencil which had been laying there. She was unable to move, except to squirm her ass in her manager's face.

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

"Yes!" she moaned out loud. "Fuck me, Mr. Larson!"

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

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

She could feel the prick pressing into her cunt-hole, pressing slowing inside her as she panted in pain from the large object penetrating her body. Her feet no longer touched the floor, but were spread far apart as she tried to give an easier opening for her manager to fuck. It did little good, but instead caused her body to slide further up on the table, so that now all her weight was on her chest.

"OH!" she cried as she felt another few inches of the mighty cock suddenly slide into her wet snatch. She could feel herself quickly building towards orgasm as the prick ran across her clitty with every new inch pressed into her.

Mr. Larson stopped for a moment, catching his breath. She sure was tight, he thought to himself as he pulled a couple inches out of her. Then he slammed in, finally forcing the rest of his ten inch prick inside the young girl, who squealed at the sensation of her cunnie suddenly filled.

"AH!!!" Jodie cried. She could feel the organ all the way inside her; all the way up to her womb, to her belly, the large prick must have been. Her legs flailed in the air as her upper body remained immobile. Mr. Larson began fucking her in earnest now. With each thrust of his meat in and out of her slit she moaned in pleasure, orgasmic waves flowing throughout her body. She climaxed several times at once. The meat was relentless, though, fucking in and out of her tight cunnie from behind, Mr. Larson's mighty hands grasping her waist and pulling her back with each thrust he made into her.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Jodie panted. She could feel his balls slap against her with every thrust of his meat. Although there was pain from the brutal fucking she was receiving, it intensified the pleasure, and Jodie sailed through orgasm after orgasm, unrelenting, the cock barreling into her twat then pulling out, in and out, over and over. And then, without warning, he came. An eruption of the black man's cum between her legs, rocketing her into yet another climax, their moans and grunts in unison this time. She felt the sloppy goo spray into her belly, warm and nasty cum filling her as spurt after spurt shot from the large black man's dick.

Finally he was finished. He pulled his shrinking cock out of her and pulled up his pants before collapsing backwards into the chair Jodie had been sitting in earlier.

Jodie rested for a moment, a wicked grin on her face, before she too got up. She looked down at her boss, whose eyes didn't meet hers, then bent over and grabbed one of her shopping bags.

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

He didn't reply, but watched as the sixteen-year-old took off her shirt and cum-stained jeans, then used the shirt to wipe the cum out from between her legs as best she could. Next she reached into one of the bags and took out a red velvet bra, which she put on, then matching panties. Finally she pulled a black fishnet dress from the bag, and pulled it down tightly over her body.

"How do I look?" she smiled.

Mr. Larson didn't respond.

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

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

"Don't worry about that," Jodie smiled again. Suddenly she sat down in his lap, her firm young ass wriggling over his new-born erection. She whipped her hair over her right shoulder then leaned close to his ear. She whispered, "I quit!"

She giggled as she jumped up from his lap. She gathered up her bags then, at the door, blew him a kiss as he watched her leave with a confused look on his face.

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah," Jodie replied. "What's wrong?"

She was having fun. She had known that once her mother saw her she'd flip out, and had been right.

"You're not to go out dressed like that again!" her mother cried. "What do you think you are?"

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

"Jodie!" he mom called. "Your boss called! You're supposed to be at work!"

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

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

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

"She's right, you know," Jodie heard her little sister say from behind.

She spun around. The thirteen year old was sitting on the edge of her older sister's bed, her long strawberry blond hair framing her soft, innocent face. "What are you doing in here?!?" Jodie demanded.

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

Jodie sighed. How cute, she thought in disgust.

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

Jodie made a face. "What do you know?" she snapped. "Get out of my room!"

"Fine," Michelle responded in annoyance. "Be a bitch."

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

Its forests had been diminished well past any hope of recovery.

And so Jodie found herself walking through one of the rare forests within the city. There were two such forests, actually, one being located on the industrial end of town near a large field, and the other behind the large city library. Jodie was in the latter of the two. It wasn't much in the way of a forest, of course. The trees were very young and few in number. But it would have to do--- there was no other place Jodie could be assured the privacy she needed. And besides, traditionally such rituals had always taken place in forests. After wandering around for about ten minutes Jodie picked a clearing and began setting up. Gathering up as much dry wood as she could she built a small fire and allowed it to grow until she was sure it would last.

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

Standing in front of the flames she began chanting out words from a long forgotten language. It had been the language of Lucifer himself when he had first fallen to the earth with his angels, the same language used by his servants throughout history. Their very utterance caused the flames to grow and dance, the wind around the young witch grow in intensity until, finally, there was a burst of intense flame from the fire.

"Unatour," she called into the billowing black smoke. "UNATOUR!" Suddenly the smoke cleared away, leaving a thick purple mist in its place. Within the mist she could make out the features of the demon she had summoned; it's dark burning eyes in slits against the leathery black skin, horns nine inches long protruding from its skull.

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

"What is your name!" Jodie demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No," Jodie replied. "The incubus you send to Michelle must make sure she likes it; she's to become enamored with the feeling it must give her.

"And then," Jodie smiled. "I'll require you to begin the nash reci on Julie."

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

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

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

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

With that, the mist disappeared.

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

Currently, however, he found himself driving in circles around the Lazy Cup's parking lot, looking for a space to park his brand new '95 Crown Vic. As he had predicted the Cup was busy. He could see groups of teenagers standing around the lot, probably because the inside was full.

Finally he found a spot. He got out of the car and headed towards the Cup, his thin black trench coat blowing about in the wind as he went. At 5'10" he wasn't very imposing, nor did he attempt to be. He was a medium-built young man with a neatly toned body brought on by his pastime of running. His brown hair was currently bleached white, short and straw-like in appearance. He wore thin wire-frame glasses in front of his thoughtful gray eyes, and a short goatee he left its natural brown.

"Hey, what's up man!" called someone Franklin hardly recognized from the first group of teenagers he passed. The group consisted of a mixture of juniors and sophomores, male and female gathered around a parked '91 Grand Prix.

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

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

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

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

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

"Been like this all night?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They didn't talk again for about ten minutes, after the joint had been shared between the two. Even then the silence continued as each clammed in the car, each lost in their own deep thoughts. Finally, Franklin said, "Let's get back."

"Mmm," Alex muttered.

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

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

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

"Fuck 'em!"

Franklin nodded. Suddenly he stopped walking. "Who is that!" he said.

Alex followed his friend's gaze to a group of three people. Two of them were seniors he recognized, both male. He knew, however, that it was the third Franklin was referring to. "That, my friend," he smiled, draping his arm over Franklin's shoulders, "is Jodie Dickinson, the junior, the red head. Remember?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something happened to her, he decided.

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

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

"Hey," he responded.

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

"Why come to me?" he asked cautiously. There was something about her tone, her mannerisms, that made him nervous. She was incredibly attractive, and experience had taught the young man that such women were not to be trusted.

Especially the kind that change over night.

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

A moment of silence passed as Franklin digested that. It was true, around the Cup he was the guy people went to for their drugs. But why a Catholic girl like Jodie would want them....

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

"But you can get them?" Jodie continued, stepping closer to Franklin. He could almost feel her breath on his lips when she talked now. Her voice was low and sweet, "Or tell me how I can get them?"

Franklin suddenly made up his mind. She wasn't to be trusted at all. Flicking away his cigarette he replied, "Nope, can't do it. You'll have to find someone else."

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

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

* * * * *

Julie Florence awoke with a start.

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

A nightmare, she thought. It had been a bad one-- stuck inside a house that was burning to the ground, she had seen her mother and father screaming and begging for help, but there had been nothing she could do. Helplessly, she'd screamed.  
She laughed nervously at the memory. Looking over to her night stand she saw that it was only one a.m. Gotta get some sleep! she thought to herself.

Sighing, she realized she was too full of energy now. Climbing out of bed she tip-toed down the stairs to fix herself a snack. Hopefully that would calm her nerves enough to let her go back to sleep. It had been a rough day for young Julie. The deaths of Craig and Joe had effected her more than she would have expected. Perhaps it was because it was someone so close to her age, or maybe because two days before she had been bashing them to her friend Jodie. Guilt, she knew, often followed grief when someone died.

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

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

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

"Julie," came a voice.

The seventeen year old froze. Suddenly she was scared again, as she had been in her dream. There was some sort of presence in the kitchen, she could sense it, not her cat and not someone she knew. Without moving a muscle her eyes darted about the kitchen, searching its shadows for a thief or a murderer or...

"Julie," called the voice again.

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

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

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

And yet...

"Aw hell," she said aloud, unlocking the door and sliding it open. It was a chilly spring night and her thin night robe offered little protection against the cold which blew in through the now open door. She poked her head out and glanced around.

Still nothing. Glancing back over her shoulder she saw the glowing green numbers of her microwave's clock reminding her how late it was.

"Julie," came the voice once again, more insistent this time.

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

Then she saw it. Standing at the end of her yard, past her deck and the short field of grass, was a figure. There was little moonlight for which to see by, but Julie could make out the features of what appeared to be a man.

She fumbled nervously for the deck light, but couldn't find it, all the while keeping her eyes on the unmoving figure. He seemed familiar, she realized, though she couldn't place where she'd known him from.

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

There came no response.

Suddenly it burst into flame, and now she could tell who it was. It was Joe Pierce, the guy she had despised, but he was dead! She could see his sunken eyes staring at her as his skin began to melt, and she screamed, falling backwards into the house...

And into the arms of someone.

"JULIE!"

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

"JULIE!!!" called the person behind her once more. "CALM DOWN!" It sank in, then, that it was her father. She spun around and fell into his arms, sobbing piteously as she stammered, "He's out there, he's out there, burning...!!!"

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

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

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

"Look!"

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

It was gone.

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

Her father sighed. "You've had a nightmare, hon. Come on, let's get you back to bed."

In a daze she felt her father half lead, half carry her through the kitchen to the stairway, and eventually back up to her bed. But she wouldn't let him leave her side. And even after she stopped crying, she remained unresponsive, unwilling to let go of her father's hand which she held onto tightly. Resigned to the situation, her father stayed up with her the whole night, never saying a word as he wondered what it was exactly Julie thought she had seen.

* * * * *

Little Michelle Dickinson lay in her comfortable bed with her reading light on, flipping through a Sassy magazine. It was only ten o' clock but that meant bedtime to her parents, although she was nowhere near tired enough to sleep.

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

No, she thought. Not tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

That had been fun.

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

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

Fuck it, she suddenly thought to herself.

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

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

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

The first was a picture of a young woman, not much older than her sister, naked from the waist up posing for a grinning man. The second picture had the woman on her knees between the guy's legs, his penis inside her mouth giving him what Michelle had heard described as a "blow job". The third picture (Michelle's favorite) had the woman on her back and the man on top of her, his penis pushed between her legs. There was a look of pleasure on the woman's face in this last picture, one Michelle felt come over hers when she would finger herself.

Tentatively Michelle slid her right hand under her sheets and began to slowly pull up her thin nightie. She squirmed her little-girl body until the material was hiked up to her small chest, then pushed down her pink panties and squirmed again so that they were down to her ankles. After kicking them off she slid her feet back and spread her legs apart.

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

"Oh!" she moaned quietly as she pressed her index finger inside herself. She was already damp, and it slid in easily. Slowly she began sliding the finger up and down her hairless slit, over her clitty which sent sparks of pleasure rippling through her body.

Dropping the pictures now she closed her eyes, a smile coming to her lips as she concentrated on her ministrations. The faint aroma of her little-girl juice wafted up to her nostrils, exciting her all the more as she plunged her finger inside her tight little hole once again, this time to the second knuckle.

She began sliding it in and out of her body now, in and out, using her thumb to gently massage her clit. The feeling of her tight young cunnie-hole being penetrated always made her body tingle all over, especially her breasts. Using her left hand she hiked up her nightie to her neck, and began to pull on her small pink left nipple which sat atop the small budding mound of flesh.

She squirmed her body back and forth as she sighed continuously in pleasure. Soon she was pulling all the more roughly on her budding tit, reveling in the increased pleasure it brought her. A soft suckling sound from between her legs was the only other noise in the room as her finger continued fucking in and out of her young twat.

And then it happened. Suddenly Michelle became aware of another presence in the room, as if someone were watching her. Closing her mouth she opened her eyes, but didn't move. Her finger was still buried inside her little hole but was no longer moving. There was silence.

"Hello," she heard a deep voice say.

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

She'd never seen anything like it before. Its skin was a dark crimson, and it glistened as if wet. It was about six feet tall but small of frame, bony even, so that she could see it's wiry muscles straining against the confines of its skin. It wore no discernable clothing, but didn't appear naked either, and it looked almost humanoid. Its head was a normal size but red like the rest of its body. At first she thought it had hair but then realized the small spikes were really jagged pieces of bone, sharpened into horns, all across its skull. Its eyes were a pair of fiery orbs burning deep within two black sockets.

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

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

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

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

The creature nodded, and stood. It was indeed tall, and Michelle noticed for the first time its tail. Long and spikey, it slithered about behind him with a life of its own. "That's correct," it said. "Do you know what an incubus is?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

The thirteen year old looked up at him again. Shaking her head she said, "It's... wrong..."

"Why?" the demon asked. "Why is it wrong?"

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

"Because it's not wrong," the demon nodded. He sat down at the foot of her bed and studied her. "So continue."

"Why... why do you want me to?" the young girl stammered.

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

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

She looked up at it again. It was a demon... but what was so bad about that? Confusing thoughts ran through her mind as she struggled to determine what was going on. And then, almost on cue, there came the mental picture of herself and the guy on top of her... the stares of Mr. Lorski on her wet swimsuit-covered behind... the feeling of her finger thrust inside her...

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

"Good," the demon nodded.

She peeled the sheets off of her body, revealing her still naked form. But the nightie hiked up to her neck felt so uncomfortable now, she decided to take it off. Without a word she sat up and pulled it from her body, then laid back down and watched the demon staring at her. She was still smiling nervously as she spread her legs once again and began massaging her slit. It hadn't dried up entirely, and upon contact with her finger it quickly moistened until she was able to slide her tiny finger inside.

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

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

She nodded. And then she gasped in pleasure again, this time louder, as her finger rubbed past her clit on an especially hard inward thrust. Her small young body became an electrical conduit of pleasure then, shaking violently as all thoughts of embarrassment and guilt were washed away, and she desperately began rubbing her chest with her left hand determined to increase her pleasure.

She was moaning now, writhing about on the bed as she continued slamming her finger into her wet snatch. And then she opened her eyes as she felt it, the creature's hand resting gently on her white knee. He was staring into her eyes as she continued to frig herself, although more slowly now. Their eyes were locked as his hand, surprisingly cool, slid up her thigh, and stopped at her hand.

She felt him gently grasp it and pull it away. In a daze she watched as the demon's hand came to rest on her hairless pussy, sending an erotic chill through her body. The demon seemed to be asking her something with its eyes, and Michelle felt herself nod the response.

"OH!" she cried as its finger suddenly pressed between her wet pussy lips. It was long and boney, and it made no pretense as to what it was trying to do. It pressed in further, further than she'd ever fingered herself before. And then she felt it run into some kind of barrier, and she shrieked in pain.

But then the barrier was gone, along with the pain, and only pleasure remained. With both hands free now she began pinching and pulling on both her nips as she squirmed about passionately on the bed. The demon began to slowly fuck its finger in and out of her youthful cunt, rasping across her clit as it did, and without warning Michelle came.

She'd had orgasms before but this one was different. There was a blinding flash of white hot light, and the sensation of her entire body spasming uncontrollably as she grunted and cried out in pleasure. Her body quaked as the leathery-skinned finger continued to fuck in and out of her.

The orgasm subsided but was not replaced by the usual feelings of guilt. Instead her mind was reduced to a carnality she had never experienced-- the realization that she wanted more and needed more overwhelmed her. At the same time she felt somehow dirty, like a savage little whore servicing a beast quite beyond her power. Her eyes were full of lust and desire when they again looked at the demon.

He was smiling. He withdrew his long finger from her snatch with a slurp, and crawled up on the bed between her legs. Her tender body laid quietly beneath him, only the look of savage need in her eyes begging him to continue.

And then she saw it, a long object hanging between its legs, and she heard herself practically growl in desire. The object was growing hard as the demon positioned itself, grabbing her at the knees and spreading her legs apart so that her feet were pushed up to her buttocks.

She looked down again and saw that the demon had grasped the huge organ. It was red like the rest of his body, but thankfully devoid of the usual bony spikes, instead appearing much like the penis she'd seen in her dirty photo. This one was bigger, however, about fifteen inches long and twice as thick as her tiny-girl wrist. She felt herself literally drooling with lust.

"Uh OH!" she cried when she felt the head of the penis suddenly pressed against her slit. His hands were grasping her thighs again, forcing them further apart as he struggled to press the first inch of his gigantic cock-meat inside her.

Her body squirmed, tossing her head of strawberry blond hair about the mattress, her eyes clenched tight in pain and concentration. She couldn't believe such an object was trying to wend its way inside her little cunt, couldn't imagine that it would actually fit.

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

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

"Ah, oh, fuck, FUCK!" she panted. She was still pulling on her sore nipples with no regard to the pain it was causing. Even pain now seemed to increase her pleasure as the mighty object pressed purposefully forward, deep inside, forcing aside organs as it made room for itself. The thought occurred to Michelle suddenly that she may die, but was lost amid a flurry of orgasms that suddenly overcame her. And then the demon groaned, a roaring sound, and Michelle looked down with blurred eyes to see that the penis was now fully inside her. She could feel the creature's nut sack resting against her ass as his fuck-tool was buried in her to the hilt.

She continued squirming around and came again at the realization that this demon had now fully penetrated her virgin body. She could feel it inside her, imagined it up inside her stomach now, her cuntal walls grasping onto it tightly, squeezing it. A flood of sensations engulfed her, ranging from pity to guilt to humiliation. How could this be, that her young Catholic body was in the process of being fucked by a demon? And yet she loved it. She loved feeling at his mercy, as if she were his little play-thing to do with as he pleased. The mighty incubus fucking the poor helpless thirteen year old child...

He began rutting her then. Pulling out and pressing in, pulling out and slamming home, she would go from feeling empty to full as his mighty instrument fucked her over and over. She began screaming, suddenly, as her mind was incapable of processing the flood of climaxes that quaked her tiny form.

The wiry demon continued his fucking. He began pulling all the way out, so that only the head remained inside her dripping wet snatch, then slammed all fifteen inches of his organ into her quivering pussy. Again and again he did this as he watched the poor girl writhe in orgasmic agony, her tiny hands still pulling on her little pink nipples, her cute young face scrunched up from pain and pleasure.

Suddenly a mighty roar brought Michelle back to reality. Opening her teary eyes she saw the demon's head arched back, howling into the air, filling the room with its deafening sound. And then there was an explosion inside her young snatch as his cock erupted.

She cried out too now, joining his cries with her own as she felt a hot gooey substance flood into her body. His cum was relentlessly spraying into her, large gobs of it at a time, and she felt it coming out her widespread hole and pouring onto her mattress.

And then it finally stopped. Michelle felt the cock begin to rapidly shrink, but wasn't consciously aware of it, as she was no longer consciously aware of anything. Bursts of light and sound echoed in her head. Her body was going into spasms.

And young Michelle Dickinson passed out.

* * * * *

All was quiet as Jodie stepped into her house.

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

Smiling, she ushered in her familiar whom she had decided to name Dante after her favorite poet. Silently she ascended the stairs to her bedroom, then closed the door and turned on the lights. Everything was working out as she had hoped. Drugs in Eastern City were plentiful when you knew where to find them, she had discovered, and after a few wild-goose chases she had finally discovered a good supplier. She would go to his house Monday night and make the buy and would no longer have to worry about not having a job.

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

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

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

Sitting up she slowly chanted a few ancient words, and the demon formed from thin-air in the middle of her room.

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

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

Jodie studied the demon. Red, spiky, tall. She shrugged. "Very well. My sister?"

The demon smiled. "Taken care of, as per your orders, dear mistress."

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

"Oh yes," the demon said assuredly, "she enjoyed it. She'll want more."

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

"As you desire," the incubus replied. "Milady?"

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

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

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

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

"Ah," Jodie smiled to her familiar, who looked up at her questioningly. "Before spring's end my dear sister will be the biggest whore in Eastern City."

She sat back, and was lost in thought for a few minutes. Finally she looked back up at Dante and, whipping aside her long red hair she said, "Feeding time."

Chapter Three: Daddy's Dick

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. She remembered suddenly that it was Sunday, which meant church at St. Beckett's.

This should be amusing, she grinned to herself.

She stood naked from her bed, waking her Familiar in the process. She pet him roughly with her tiny hands 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, where she knew he 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 to a house of God. But that would cause too much friction with her mother. She wasn't ready for all that... yet.

And so, after grabbing one of her typical church dresses, she went to the bathroom and showered. She decided, however, not to wear panties today, as a form of rebellion she could get away with. After showering she heard music coming from her sister's room, which meant she had just awoken. She glared menacingly at the door as she passed it, practically getting wet at the thought of all the other vile things she'd have done to the poor girl 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 evilly 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?"

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

He'll have to be taken care of, too, 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 soft black hair was matted and greasy looking, like she hadn't showered, and her full lips were devoid of their normal red lipstick. Although he didn't know the Junior that well, he'd decided to stop and find out what she was doing.

"Are you going to?" he asked.

Her lips moved in response, but no sound came.

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

"He's 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 into Franklin's arms, and he took 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... I mean, he liked Jodie, but I didn't like him!"

Franklin stood slowly in surprise. "He liked Jodie?" he asked, deadpanned.

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 tell me first... 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... that night. He cancelled." Her eyes suddenly went wide as she stared at him. "If she'd been there... oh!" Again she crumpled to the ground and began sobbing.

The gears in Franklin's mind were churning now in full force. 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 didn't you like Joe?"

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

She jumped up and began half running, half stumbling down the street.

He let her go. She'd obviously hallucinated the night before, probably from acid or shrooms or something. That would also explain her condition this morning. 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 service bored to tears and even a little uncomfortable. All the crosses, and Latin chants, and ceremony that went with a Catholic church was making her feel irritable. She needed a release of some sort.

She thought about young Michelle, who 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 the young girl tonight, and this made her feel better. But then she looked over at her dad. He would have to be taken care of now, 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 got in line for confession as always. It felt incredibly erotic somehow to be standing in her light 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 than they might have supposed.

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, and as she slid the heavy purple drapery into place she could feel the hard oak seat on her bare ass. It felt so good she decided to hike her dress up further--she pulled the hemline behind her up to her back, then wiggled happily on the bench. She could feel herself growing wet.

With a creak the window between her and the priest slid open, revealing a metal grate of some sort which prevented her from seeing him, or from him seeing her. The light which came through the grate was her only illumination now. She felt comfortable in the darkness.

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

She smiled to herself. "Forgive me, Father, I've sinned," she said in a little-girl 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, for one."

"Go on," the Father replied.

"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. "I lost my virginity."

"Sex before marriage," the priest responded, not missing a beat, "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 cherry to a horny classmate or anything... I lost it to a dog."

Silence across the confessional. Yes! Jodie thought.

"A dog?" the priest asked slowly.

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

"You mean... literally? A canine?"

Jodie was getting a kick out of this. She wished she could see the look on his face. Absentmindedly 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..."

"You've had intercourse with this...animal... more than once?" the priest asked in shock.

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

There was silence.

Jodie continued. "His long doggy-dick pushes into me slowly at first, but before too long I'm dripping wet and it's easy for him to get the rest of it inside me. Eventually it's too hard to support my weight on all fours--because that's how we do it, of course-- so I just drop my upper body down and rest on my big titties while he pummels me from behind... sometimes, Father, his claws dig into my sides so hard I bleed, but it's sooo worth it..."

Jodie was speaking in a low and husky seductive voice now as she began masturbating herself. She couldn't imagine what could be going through the priest's mind--he surely heard the soft slurping sounds of her finger sliding in and out of her quim, her panting as she neared orgasm...

"My child, you must not lie in a house of God," the priest said sternly.

"It's... no lie, Father, it's..." Jodie mumbled, sighing. She hadn't masturbated yet since her pact with the devil, and it seemed fitting for it to take place in a church... it was also quite arousing!

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

She ignored him. She was now rubbing her clit frantically, causing her body to squirm and nearly thrash around in the tight confines of the confessional booth. The bench she was sitting on was now slick with her juice, causing her body to slide around it back and forth...

"Father, I---," she began as she began to climax, "I--don't--need--- your--- FORGIVENESS!"

Suddenly she came. She let out a long, low breath to prevent from screaming, and simultaneously slammed her index finger all the way up inside her to finish the process. When she was done, she was smiling evilly as her body trembled in relief.

"Father?"

There was no response. She looked through the metal grate and saw his silhouette. He was still there. She sat back then, still smiling, smug now in the knowledge that she had made the Holy Father speechless.

* * * * *

It was two o' clock before Franklin was standing in front of Steve's door. It'd taken him awhile to track the guy down, just as he'd thought it would. About a year ago his whole family had died in a strange series of events--his father had apparently murdered his mother, his sister had killed the father, then that same sister had taken her own life.

Franklin had known Karen Feebs pretty well. They weren't close outside of school, but in his 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 even more than most of her close friends, except Wendy, because he blamed himself partly for her death.

He didn't know Steve that well, except that he'd been "in" with the Goth crowd for a while before becoming more mainstream. They'd shared a P.E. 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 lank of frame stood there. He looked like a walking skeleton. His skin was shrunken back like he hadn't eaten well in months, and his hair was long and frayed. 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... I'm 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 TV with a surprisingly nice VCR 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.

Steve 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 I don't know already."

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 he 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. He was the horniest guy I knew." 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?"

He 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," 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, the guy 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 Test, as Father Rickle called it, began 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; 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 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 this Sunday afternoon. She'd found in the last few months that allowing her mind to rest a while 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--it was part of his training. And 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.

"Good morning, Father," she greeted her patron, who stood outside the door. 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 kitchen, a small out-of- style one in the older home, 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 discuss."

"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 eye-brow. "There's more going on than 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 people 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. She could ruin everything."

Ellen considered for a moment. After thinking carefully she said, "Then we should... take care of her?"

The priest nodded.

"And," Ellen continued slowly, "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 made his way towards the door to leave. "Watch her, watch her... this will be your final exam. If you deal with it correctly, you'll pass."

"And if I don't?"

The priest snorted. "Well, then, I guess you'll fail."

Ellen thought about that for a few minutes after he'd left. She eventually came to one conclusion.

That she had just been warned.

* * * * *

It was about seven in the evening when Jodie pulled into the trailer park. She was late, but wasn't worried about it. And besides, she'd been busy in the forest again setting her new plan into motion. She kind of wished she was home right now just so she could observe the impending crisis, 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. Besides, she had plans for all the losers who visited that coffee house, and if they were to succeed she'd have to get "in" with them. What better way to do so then to be their new supplier?

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

"For some people," she'd informed the young girl, "this is the best they can afford."

Finally she found the lot she'd been looking for. The trailer home which sat on it was bigger than the other ones in the park, but it still was relatively small. It was also an older one--rust plagued its sides and two of its windows were boarded up as though the glass had long ago broken. In front of the home were three cars--one was a large gray '87 Pick-up, the second a rather surprisingly sleek looking Lincoln Continental no more than a year old, and the last was a rusted-out four-door long since stripped for any salvageable parts.

She considered briefly bringing Dante inside with her, but decided against it. She could take care of herself. On the way to the trailer home's door she wondered briefly why people who dealt in drugs lived in such poverty... these obviously weren't the "top" guys, but rather a stepping stone on her way towards them.

Her knock on the door was answered by a rather hefty looking man wearing a wife-beater shirt. He was balding in the front but had long oily black hair down the back. The stubble on his meaty face suggested that he hadn't shaved in a couple days, and his immediate odor suggested he hadn't showered, either.

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

Jodie smiled. "Hi!" she said casually. "I'm Jodie... uhm, I'm 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, stepping back to let her in.

"Thanks!" She walked past the beefy man and was immediately hit by the rank odor of marijuana, tobacco smoke, and a stale smell which permeated the air. A television was blaring and she could hear voices, but she was being shuffled in too quickly to make out anything distinct.

Before she knew it she was standing 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 sitting off to the side... she wondered at this.

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

A man who's back had been to her looked over his shoulder inquisitively, and his eyes went wide as soon as they saw Jodie. His arm had been around a young woman about her age when he stood, zipped his front zipper, and smiled. He wasn't wearing a shirt.

"You're Jodie?" the man asked. 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 moustache, and was medium built with well toned muscles. Overall he seemed to Jodie a rather harmless guy.

"Yep," she smiled easily, brushing long 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, not really.... Just a place. Oh, you've met Paul, behind you? And this is Monica."

The girl on the sofa raised her hand limply, but did not turn away from the TV.

"Hi," Jodie said to Paul. She didn't say anything to Monica but turned back to Dirk. "So... can you hook me up?"

"Let me show you my 'office'," he said, almost ignoring her question. She followed him into the kitchen area, separated from the main room by a low doorway with hanging beads. It was little more than a card table with two chairs pulled up to it, a sink, and a fridge. There was no stove or oven. He took a seat in one of the chairs and looked her body 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 talks, but all he did was stare at her young pert 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. All forms of modesty had seemingly left her with the onset of her new powers, but at the same time she didn't like being ordered around. So she just stared back at him.

"What?"

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

Jodie considered for a moment walking out right then and there. Most people would have. But then again, Jodie wasn't a normal person anymore, so after staring back at him for another long minute she decided to see what would happen.

A moment later she'd pulled off her tight-fitting black shirt and was standing in front of him wearing only a bra above her waist. She put her hands back on her hips and continued the staring contest.

Dirk was growing hard just looking at the young teenager's lithe figure, now 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 first test, and it was a shame... the best bodies, he thought, 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 stopped.

Of course! she thought. A drug dealer like this would take such precautions.

Immediately her angry grimace changed back into the innocent smile that she'd been wearing when she'd entered the trailer home. She dropped the shirt out of her small hand and let it fall back to the ground.

"I'm not a fucking cop," she said soothingly.

He shrugged, and continued racing his eyes over her body. Then he stood, and walked around the card table to her. She stood casually, staring at him with her large doe-like eyes as he reached out, placing his hands on her shoulders.

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

He heard a disbelieving grunt come from behind, then the voice of Paul say, "Want I should search 'er?"

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

He stood back and suddenly Paul made his way in front of her. He was huge compared to the tiny teenager, but Jodie wasn't intimidated. She was actually quite amused at the way his big beefy hands reached out slowly to her body, as if afraid to touch her.

Then he did. He placed his hands on her shoulders and ran them down her sides. Jodie wouldn't flinch, only kept looking past him at the increasingly interested Dirk. She felt Paul's sweaty hands collect behind her and unsnap her bra, then he was pulling it off her. She didn't resist.

After dropping the garment to the floor Paul stared intently at her chest for a couple moments, as if trying to make up his mind. As if to encourage him, Jodie thrust her chest forward ever so slightly, smiling all the while. Paul took the hint. His large hands suddenly cupped her two large tits, and began massaging them rather heatedly. He wasn't gentle or trying to excite her, in fact he was squeezing the large meaty globes too tightly, but all the same Jodie was getting turned on.

The fact that this man had no interest in pleasing her, but in using her, was exciting to the new witch.

"Paul," Dirk suddenly snapped.

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

"Finish searching."

Paul unceremoniously grabbed Jodie by the belt which held up her shorts, and undid it. Then, nearly pulling the teenager over, he unbuckled her pants and unzipped them, then 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.

"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, now completely naked save for her tennis shoes. Her arms still rested on Paul's shoulders, but she was smiling at him. "I guess you're clean, huh?"

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

Dirk grinned.

What a hot fucking slut, 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 watched intently as the teen strode to the chair, then sat down slowly. In his mind she was doing this on purpose, teasing him, showing off her body because she knew how hard it made him. He felt himself begin to sweat.

"Okay, babe, let's begin. 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 himself. "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 enough dope to support yourself?"

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."

She was grinning. She was truly in her element. "Not exactly the stuff you'd find at a video store?"

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?"

"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 only briefly, then asked, "How much money do your girls make?"

Dirk leaned back. This 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.

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

A moment later the girl who'd been sitting on the couch came into the crowded little kitchen. She had a glazed-over look to her, as if she'd been doing lots of drugs, or hadn't slept in quite awhile. Probably both. She was of Hispanic descent, and had long dark brown hair which was currently matted-looking and unwashed. Her skin was a deep shade of brown, and she was quite attractive. And also quite young, possibly younger than Jodie.

"Yes?" she asked blankly.

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

She looked over at Jodie, who sat naked in the chair across from Dirk, then back at him. "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 spicks love it in the ass," Paul put in.

Monica ignored them. She stood with downcast eyes, 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 was definitely attractive, but her body wasn't as well developed as her own. She knew she could make more than her. "Does she make movies?"

"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 was taking a drag from a joint she'd brought in with her, but wouldn't meet Jodie's gaze. "Alright," she said, not taking her eyes off the girl, "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."

"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.

"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 wet ever since Monica had entered the room and the smell of marijuana began wafting through the air. Three sets of eyes on her body in this shitty little mobile home, making a deal to prostitute herself for big cash. It was more that what she'd hoped for.

She walked around the table towards Dirk, and felt Paul's beefy hand grab at her ass. She ignored it. Dirk turned his chair to face her, and she sat down his lap and placed her cool hands on his bare chest. He was smiling at her sleazily as he took her into his arms.

They began kissing. Not romantically, but rather passionately, as he pressed his slithering long tongue deep into her mouth. She purred in his lap and ran her hands up and down his back as he hugged her tight young body to his.

She could feel the bulge in his pants pressing against her thigh, and she squirmed her butt around to place it over his growing hard-on. 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 a 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 unexpectedly, so fully.

He grabbed her by the waist and continued pressing his tongue down her throat. She took it in easily. I bet she sucks cock like a pro, he thought. He stood, carrying her body with him as he did, and placed her ass on the edge of the card table, all the while enjoying her passionate kiss.

Her hands went straight for the belt of his pants and frantically undid them. She was almost as excited as she'd been earlier at the church! She had to be fucked, and soon.

Paul had come around 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, but she was pulling off her pants as well.

Dirk pushed her away from him by her tits until she was lying back on the table, staring up at him with excited eyes. He said to her breathlessly, "You're gonna be a great fuck... you a virgin?"

She shook her head while she began playing with her tits.

"I didn't think so." He dropped his pants and stepped out of them, revealing a long hard cock pointed straight for her spread legs. "Do you like pain?" he asked.

She nodded, unable to speak for her excitement. She was about to come already, without so much as a finger in her snatch.

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

Jodie gasped in quivering pleasure as she felt Paul's big hands grab her wrists and pull them away from her tits. Monica was standing next to him, looking down at her body. She was completely blown out by now.

"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 parallel to her body 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 Jodie's ankles 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. Her life was heading in the exact direction she'd wanted since she'd made her pact with the Devil, and silently she thanked him for it. She'd be making money soon, her "enemies" were almost taken care of, and more than that... she was getting fucked on a regular basis.

Dirk pushed her legs back as far as he could, so quickly it sent shock waves of pain up Jodie's body. Her knees were almost touching the table right next to her tits, and she could feel Dirk's cock positioning itself at the entranceway to her warm little hole. She was dripping wet and panting in anticipation.

Meanwhile Monica had begun sucking on her left breast, cupping it fully in her hands. Her long brown hair tickled Jodie's flesh as she began to gently play with her nipple with her tongue. Paul had placed both of Jodie's wrists into one of his large hands and was using his free one to begin kneading her other tit rather roughly.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she panted in unison with Dirk's heavy breathing. His cockhead had finally been pressed into her hole, which gladly took it in and began squeezing it. She was staring up into Paul's eyes, which were lewdly roaming her body. She could feel another orgasm beginning to quake her body.

"Fucking tramp," Dirk heaved, pressing more of his meat into the young teen, "fucking whore... ungh... they'll like it better if you don't... uh, if you don't act so much like you like it... like you..."

Jodie understood, despite Dirk's incoherent speech. He wanted her to feign fright. In a heartbeat her expression changed from one of excited desire to utter terror. She delved deep into her brain, digging up memories of when she'd been a "normal" girl, and used them to help her pretend. The old Jodie, she knew, would act quite a bit different in this situation.

"Please stop," she said softly, eyes welling with tears. "Oh God, oh God... please! Don't hurt me!"

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

Paul was suddenly more in his element as the head-strong girl went from enjoying this type of fuck to fearing it. In one fluid motion he slammed his weight down on his left shoulder, smashing her arms which he was holding into the table and bringing a scream of pain from Jodie. At the same time he pulled harshly on the tit he'd been rolling around a second before, and began twisting it around, enjoying the look of torment in the girl's eyes.

Monica continued licking Jodie's nipple with her tongue, still gently. In the pit of her stomach she was feeling sick. She didn't know anything about this girl, but she was sure by the time she left she'd regret ever having come. 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 new 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 what he wanted--screams of pain, tears of terror. Inside, though, she shivered through another intense orgasm as Dirk's cock sliced in and out of her dripping cunt.

Finally Dirk could take it no longer. He slammed into the young teen one final time, then pushed her legs back even further until he was convinced the girl's screams were real. And then he let loose with the semen which had been welling up inside his balls and sprayed his hot cum deep inside her trembling twat.

After he was spent Dirk let go of her ankles and stepped back, his body shaking from the intense fuck. He gazed lazily at Jodie's face, which was streaked with tears, and smiled. Either she had had a change of heart, or the girl was a really good actress. He didn't really care which, although the latter would mean some serious cash for him soon.

"Your turn," he panted, standing off to the side and offering Paul the young girl's body.

Jodie saw the look of anticipation in the large man's face as he let go of her arms and went around to where Dirk had been standing. Her legs were sore and still spread wide, and she made no effort to move her arms again, either. She concentrated on keeping up her 'poor little girl' act.

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

He ignored her. Reaching forward he grabbed the girl by her tits and pulled her limp body forward, relishing the look of sudden pain in the girl's wide- eyes. He growled at her incoherently, then grabbed her by the waist and away from Monica's continued licking.

He turned her over and pressed her back onto the unsteady card-table, which was threatening to collapse. With her wrists now clenched together behind her back by Paul's right hand, she felt as the large man spread her legs apart with his legs.

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

She begged him through feigned tears to stop as his cock began to press against her other hole. She hadn't seen it, but could immediately tell his dick was massive. Worst of all, though, he wasn't using any kind of lubrication.

This may actually hurt, the teen witch thought. She struggled to keep from smiling.

Meanwhile Dirk had moved around in front of her. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head up off the table, and stared at her, searching her eyes for some kind of truth. Was he raping someone? He didn't care either way, but he wanted to know.

"Still wanna be my whore?"

Without falling out of character Jodie managed to nod her head. This was met with a swift slap in the face.

"Bitch!" Dirk yelled. He slapped her again. "I asked you a question!"

"Yes!" she screamed, sobbing as she did. Paul was beginning to press his massive organ into her behind, making it hard for her to speak.

Dirk continued staring at her for a long moment, then she heard him say to 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, and allowed Paul's cock to begin sliding its way inside. It was an incredible sensation. He stomach knotted up and suddenly felt full, while at the same time her ass struggled to force it out. She bucked her ass back at the fat bodyguard as if struggling to free herself, but in actuality grinding her moist cum-soaked cunt against the table's edge dragging her tits back and forth along it surface.

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 spick, Jodie thought.

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

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 picked Monica up. A second later she was placed on the table in front of her, legs spread wide. They were thin legs, creamy brown and quite attractive. Jodie found herself staring into the girl's dry pussy.

She 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 twat, then extended her tongue towards the black-fuzzed pussy.

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, took aim, and slapped the teen's soft round ass as hard as he could.

Jodie gasped loudly, the wind suddenly knocked out of her. She knew this "terrified little-girl" act was getting the monstrous man behind her off, and this excited her all the more. She didn't mind the pain as she felt him slap her jiggling butt once again then proceeded to press his throbbing meat even further up her behind.

Monica was in another world. The sounds, smells, and sights of what was occurring seemed veiled somehow. It wasn't until Jodie began licking at her dry box that she felt herself come back down to earth, back into reality.

She placed her hands timidly around Jodie's head, her eyes transfixed on the ramming she was receiving from Paul behind her. She'd gotten it like that once before, too, but it had been from Dirk whose cock wasn't quite as massive. She couldn't imagine what kind of terrible feelings Jodie was experiencing.

Her whole body now trembling towards another climax, Jodie increased her suckling at the spick's cunt as it suddenly began to moisten. She flapped her arms at her sides rhythmically to the pounding she was getting, and drove her tongue further up Monica's snatch. She 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 finally came.

Dirk was bracing Monica from behind, keeping her in position for Jodie's muff-dive. His attention went back to Paul. The man could be quite brutal, he knew, which is what made him such a good bodyguard. But in this situation he showed no interest in pleasing Jodie at all, only in getting his entire cock up her ass and getting off himself.

As Jodie continued slurping at Monica's pussy she finally felt Paul's balls slap against her sopping wet cunt. He was finally entirely inside her. She felt as if she'd been impaled by the man--it seemed quite impossible she should survive such a ramming. But as he whaled down on her ass again with his right hand, her mind suddenly raced and her body quaked as an orgasm claimed her.

Monica's breath was coming now in ragged gasps as she closed her eyes and caressed Jodie's hair. The red-head was a good cunt-licker. She'd been eaten out before, but Monica never approached orgasm quite this quickly. She felt as Jodie's tongue slid up and down her dripping slit, press into her hold and swirl around, then make its way back up towards her button. And when it made it, sparks seemed to emanate from where Jodie's juiced-up jaw met her quivering snatch.

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 up and squeeze his cock all the more, however, so that he felt that the red-headed slut was purposely milking him. He growled in anger and slapped at the girl's round ass again, and again, and again as he felt the semen begin to boil inside his balls. He pulled out a bit then slammed in remorselessly, over and over, feeling her body weaken with each successive thrust.

If her mouth weren't buried in that cunt's snatch, he thought, she'd be screaming for me to stop!

This thought made him smile as he buried his dick into her to the hilt, gripped her ass, and snarled aloud as his cock-head finally erupted inside the young teen's virgin ass.

It was all Jodie could do to keep from biting down on Monica's juicy quim as she rocked through another orgasm. But then she heard Monica's ragged breathing replaced by a long, low mewl of pleasure, and she knew she was close to completion. Increasing her efforts, delving her tongue further in the girl's warm hole then up her slit to her clit, then down again, she finally felt Monica's hands tighten into her hair and her body quake. With a satisfied certainty she knew the girl had climaxed.

With this task completed she went back to enjoying the ass fuck Paul was giving her, but then 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 then it happened. Like a fire hydrant released of its cap, his cock sprayed forth an explosion of cum. She felt it swim up her insides, into her bowls, and she gasped and panted her way through an orgasm of her own. But his orgasm didn't seem to subside. Another long jet of sticky cum shot inside her, then another, then nothing... but then one more. She rocked her ass back towards him, feeling his cum already leaking out her anal opening, and came again.

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

* * * * *

Michelle's day had passed in a foggy state of awareness. It was like a waking dream--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 TV, 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... 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 was lying on her side with a thin white sheet pulled up to her chin, her eyes closed as if pretending to sleep, 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 stealing 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 sounds 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 terrible instant as if something wanted her to know this sudden terror. Then the footsteps ceased, but Michelle's heart was pounding so hard she was certain whoever now stood above her could hear it.

Suddenly someone was sitting their body 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 above 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 when 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 felt herself trembling, and 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 as 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 sweaty against her cool soft skin, until her breathing continued.

Then it began sliding its way up.

When it reached her waist, and subsequently her panties (she was only wearing a T-shirt and underwear), it stopped again and 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. Because a moment later the hand slid a bit back down her outer thigh and made its way over until it pressed itself between her legs. She was still laying on her side with one leg against the other, but the hand forced itself slowly between the two developing thighs of the young girl, only inches below her pussy.

When it began sliding its way up, then, she once again held her breath. And when she felt it lightly brush her panty-covered slit, she gasped and uncontrollably jumped away, opening her eyes as she did to see the stranger who was sitting on her bed, a look of serene guilt on his face. "Daddy?" she asked, voice quavering.

"Did I wake you?"

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, pulling the sheets up to her chin again as she did. She stared at her dad with wide eyes, watering in fear, her lower lip trembling as she tried to think of something to say. There was something strange and terrifying about the look in his eyes.

He stood, and stared down at her. Moonlight shone through the window, the only illumination in the room, highlighting the 13-year-old's young body in a tranquil glow. He turned away slowly and headed 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..."

"Do you want to tell me what the hell you were doing with pornographic pictures, Michelle?" 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 thirteen 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 guys 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, girl! 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 in her face.

She was crying in terror 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 pulled her face to his and screamed into it, "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. "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 back, 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. Her head wailed about as 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 such a cute 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.

"AHHHHH!" 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, and smacked his hand down on her rear once again, transfixed at the way her young butt jiggled when his flesh met hers.

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

And then another 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 soft teenage butt.

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

"ARRRHHHH!" she wailed, the pain increasing with each successive blow. Her stomach was aching, her head spinning, and she could feel her ass begin to swell already. 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.

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

"I said LEAVE!" he yelled at her.

"Mommy, 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 hand down at her rear-end once more.

Michelle saw as her mother took a step backwards.

"NO!" she blubbered, crying spastically.

But then her mother was closing the door, her eyes locked with her daughter's, until 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... a 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! I am!"

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, 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 hardening 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--a mix between desire and compassion. 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 back firmly into the mattress, heart beginning to race painfully. She felt the goose-bumps 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 ass as he stared down into her face. Her eyes were clenched tight, and he saw as 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 her 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, where her legs being together prevented him from getting to her pussy, to laying on her stomach, legs spread apart so that her lower body was exposed to him.

Without the resistance of the clenched together thighs her father now placed his hand firmly between her legs. He rubbed two fingers gently between them, feeling out his daughter's vagina. He stared transfixed at her unmoving body, at her ass, at 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. And once again she shocked herself when she slowly began to slide her knees forward until they were pressed against her thighs. In effect, she had just given him free reign over her tender 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. 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 got on his knees behind her 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 juice.

Still she didn't move, not to protest or to encourage him. Finally he took his finger out of her and gripped his cock.

The sensation of his cockhead being pressed against her tight hole 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 anymore. When the head of his dick finally popped into her wet cunt, she only exhaled softly.

He marveled at the feeling of her tightness as he slid his cock slowly into her from behind. When it didn't meet any resistance he knew for a fact he'd been right--she was a whore. Otherwise, where was her cherry? What he was doing, then, was okay. She was a whore.

"You're a slut," he panted softly, cock now buried into her to its base. "A fucking slut... my daughter the slut... the little cunt..."

She was breathing evenly despite the fact the first human cock she'd ever had was now fully inside her. It was her dad's cock, she kept thinking. Her own daddy was fucking her. Strange thoughts were going through her head, thoughts like, "I wonder if Mommy ever got it like this doggystyle," and "I wonder if you can get pregnant from your own dad?"

Slowly he drew his hard penis out of his daughter's wet sheath until just the head remained. He stared up at the ceiling and sighed loudly as he squeezed it into her again in one long thrust. His hands were placed firmly on her bruised ass, 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 laid there unresisting.

This went on for some time. He was fucking her so slowly that, despite the fact he'd felt near orgasm ever since he'd laid down next to her, he didn't cum.

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. Only he kept sighing, breathing hard, gasping at the sensation of his little girl's pussy.

Finally she began to sob again. "Just finish, Daddy!" she whimpered.

Still he kept fucking her at that slow pace. He slid his hands up to her waist and wrapped them around there, pulling her back so he could press his dick more fully into her. He was looking down at her back, her shirt which 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. Then he repeated himself, and realization dawned on her.

Without even thinking about refusing, she managed to pull the night-shirt off.

Still he could only see her back so, with his dick fully inside her, he stopped and repositioned himself. She instinctively did the same until she was on her side, one of her legs extended between his and the other bent next to him. He gripped that leg by the ankle and pulled at it until it was perpendicular to her body--- he was now fucking her on her side, and he could finally get a good look at his daughter.

Her eyes were closed, her body limp. Her developing 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. She was sobbing again.

And there was even more reason for her to want him to finish now. In this new position his cock was raking over her clitty with every inward thrust, sending orgasmic currents through her body in tandum.

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. Suddenly he repositioned himself again, growing tired with fucking her on her side, until she was on her back. He drew out of her fully and got on his knees in between her spread legs, then slid back into her without any resistance.

She 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... daddy..." she sobbed. But she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"You want me to cum?" he asked.

"Yes..."

"Not until you do," he sighed.

"Daddy, no!" she said, sobbing more heavily.

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 and ignoring the throbbing of her swollen ass.

He looked down at his little girl heatedly, marveling at the way her body was beginning rock in unison with his. 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.

Absentmindedly Michelle placed her hands on her father's hips. She let them rest there as she writhed around underneath him. The pummeling continued as his pole 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 forward onto her father's hard cock. Her whole body was shaking orgasmically, and every time he squeezed her meaty tits in his big sweaty hands she would gasp in wanton pleasure.

"Whore... you little slut... cunt... oh... my little girl... fuck...," her father was panting. "You want me... you want me to fuck... 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 slap gently at her tits, paying careful attention to her nipples--this new sensation drove her deeper into the deep pits of carnality she was experiencing.

"Tell me... uh... tell me, girl," her father panted, slapping at her titties harder now.

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

"You want me to fuck you?" he asked, grinding his cock into her little twat.

"YES!" she cried, eyes opening wide as he impaled her. She thrust her pussy back at him so that he was deeper in her than he'd yet been. She could feel him practically up in her womb now.

"WHORE!" he cried, fucking her rapidly now, slamming in and out of her hard and fast. "Fucking slut, slut slut... ohh, tight little cunt..."

"Yes... fuck me... fuck me!" she cried. She dug her nails into his waist and wrapped her legs around his back, the pain and terror of just minutes before gone now, gone with the rest of her, replaced by nothing but lust; uncontrolable, unsaitable lust.

And then her body tensed up, and couldn't keep from screaming--a low gutteral sound from the back of her throat--as she finally came. Suddenly her whole body felt like one big electrical conduit, and her daddy's dick was the charge. She dug her nails deeper into his waist, gouging out his skin, crying incoherent things about God and sex as she quaked through wave after wave of painful orgasm.

When she felt his cock slam into her next and his body then tense, she knew he was about to pour his seed into her. She continued crying out in pleaure and repulsion as her father grunted long and low, and then suddenly felt his cock twitch inside her and spurt out the first hot gob of cum.

The next pushed her into another orgasm, and the same happened with the third. But when he finally gushed out his sperm into her little-girl pussy she screamed at the top of her lungs in pure orgasmic agony. She felt her box fill up with his gooey cum, the same cum she'd been conceived with thirteen years before.

Finally his body quite literally collapsed on hers. She didn't care, she was spent, too. They breathed heavily together, father and daughter, his shrinking dick still up inside her, her tits mashed against his hairy chest. She mewed softly in his ear as an aftershock of orgasm trembled through her body, and then she lost consciousness.

* * * * *

Jodie returned home about an hour after one in the morning. Her body ached from the fucking she'd received at Dirk's, but was already beginning to recover. By morning, she knew, she'd be fine.

She went 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 she 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, he froze.

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

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

He blinked slowly, then looked over his shoulder into the bedroom. He stepped forward and closed the door behind him. Then, guilitily he said, "Yes... 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!

When she heard a click as her parent's bedroom door closed she slowly opened her younger sister's and walked 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 was asleep, or at least appeared to be. She was also naked, and trembling. A small pool of sticky cum had formed between her legs on the mattress--- her sweaty body gleamed in the moonlight... Jodie couldn't help but reach forward for her nipple and grab it. She 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 gonna end up as "C" cups, maybe even "D" or "DD". She smiled.

"Oh, what did Daddy do to you?" Jodie giggled. She stepped back.

"It's not over yet, sis," she whispered then, voice suddenly sinister and imposing. "Not by a long shot."

And then she left.

TO BE CONTINUED....!