Crimson Reborn Ch. 13

Lucy reclined on the plush armchair, enjoying the feeling of Helen's tongue lapping at her slit. A quick, tittering orgasm rippled through her divine body. The pleasure spread throughout the room. Behind Helen, her former stepson, now a hulking beast of muscle and cock, ruthlessly fucked his step mother in the ass. Across the room, Lucy's former husband laid on a well used bed while Helen's daughter, Aly, rubbed her whole body up and down David's enormous cock. Periodic eruptions of cum splattered on Aly's body, sending her into convulsive pleasure. Malcolm, Helen's husband, occupied one of the other large beds in the transformed house. Oliver and Alice had him tied down, playing with him in a variety of devilish ways.

Lucy patted Helen on the head, dismissing her for the time being. The woman gave Lucy a last, loving kiss on her inner thigh before dislodging Nick's spurting cock from her ass and leading him off to shower together. Lucy's fingers moved over to her nipples as she watched the other denizens of her little pleasure palace. A strong part of her wanted to unleash a new frenzy of lust among them, plunging the whole group into another wild, days-long orgy. She needed to work, though, and resisted her own temptations.

Work. The concept struck her as funny. It had been work to turn her run down, ranch style house into a bordello of comfortable sin. With a thought, she could bend reality. Sometimes. It depended on the reality's stubbornness. Her and David's home wanted to change as much as its owners did. Walls moved. Cushions, pillows, and beds sprang out of nothingness to give the whole place universal comfort for fucking. Those had been the easy parts. Lucy knew what a bed looked like and found she could conjure one pretty easily. In her mind, she could picture the house as it would become structurally, willing it into being.

On the other hand, she'd never seen a magic drawer of sex toys. So far as she knew, one never existed. When she began to create one, she made it look like a dresser she'd owned when they first moved into the house, four feet tall and pink with elaborate handles. The drawers didn't move very well at first. From within, any of her pets could withdraw the object of their desire. Butt plugs, dildos, straps, chains, nipple clamps, even twisted items Lucy didn't recognize. An item she created could produce items she didn't create, brought into existence by the desire of the person searching. It fired her imagination and opened up a world of possibilities. Possibilities which required more work.

Her eyes closed. The house and its copulating pairs faded away. Lucy could see the town she'd known her whole life. She floated above it, looking down onto a toy map filled with lights. Some burned a crimson red, her servants and disciples. Others varied in color, the unchanged and unaffected. Lucy knew some of them would never belong to her, others were almost ripe for plucking.

At the edges of her domain, a line of crackling red energy wove through the countryside. It created no physical barrier, but beyond it, she had no power. With each recruited soul, she could push the boundary a little further, but she did not see much point in doing so. Small Creek was big enough for her interests, at least for now. Within the borders, she saw three burgeoning beacons of her power. Her house where she currently resided, the Dairy overseen by Cain and his cohort of cows, and the Garden tended by Bethany and her flowers. The Hogshead glimmered as well, a recently acquired jewel which would soon become another anchor in her empire. A few places remained in opposition to her peculiar interests. A church, First Missionary of Small Creek, a school, and the dilapidated city hall. Each had their own curiosities to unravel.

Lucy understood why a church would exist in opposition to her, but Small Creek had seven churches within her reach. She didn't know why First Missionary of Small Creek should be the one to resist her influence. She considered the two pastors to be an obstacle to overcome, Pastor Colin and Pastor Tanner. Colin was old and set in his ways, but Tanner seemed more pliable. When either of them fell, the souls who followed them would become easy picking.

The school had already been taken care of, in a way. With a wave of her hand, the young of Small Creek vanished. A demonic paradise was no place for children. Curiously, this magic had been the simplest for Lucy to perform, yet a group of seniors remained, apparently oblivious to the fact that their school was otherwise empty. Teachers gave full lectures to empty classrooms. Lunch ladies stood happily waiting to serve ghosts. She picked at the eighteen year olds' thoughts, hearing them making plans for college or moving away. They planned fully on graduating, all six of them in a class that should have been fifty. The blankness of their minds in regards to their friends unnerved even Lucy. Perhaps only Lucy, as she seemed to be the only one capable of remembering the school's purpose at all. After a while, it became hard for her as well.

City Hall she knew to be her final goal. Whatever it stood for could be corrupted and undermined with a little time. The collective values of the community or the sense of normalcy or basic concepts of the physical world — whatever sort of faith the people of Small Creek still held poured into the old building's symbolism. When it became the crown jewel of Lucy's world, she would have complete control over the town she'd called home. Then she could look to other projects.

She focused her gaze on one dark spot moving around the downtown area near her new bar. Lowell Cammack, the legal owner of the newly christened Hogshead. Lucy frowned. Some souls vibrated with unused potential, some hummed or droned with quiet wisdom. Lowell Cammack's jerked and twisted when she focused on it. It abhorred her attention, folding in on itself over and over to hide the rot in its core. Most of the citizens of Small Creek heard Lucy's song. Her converts listened with rapturous joy while those lightly under the influence heard a distant, pleasant tune. People like Lowell heard nails on a chalkboard when they heard it at all. Lucy did not have much hope for those like him.

But it was work to do. She ended her trance, returning without fanfare to her cushioned chair. With a snap of her fingers, a suit of red latex covered her from head to toe, squeezing her ass and tits tight. Red gloves crawled up her arms to her shoulders, giving her movements a plastic squeak. Her minions looked up with pure adoration in their eyes. "I'm going out," she said. "Try not to have too much fun while I'm gone. Oliver, Alice, finish up with Malcolm and join me, please."

***

At nineteen, Lowell Cammack dated a girl named Melony James. They were together for seven months before the small trailer Lowell owned caught fire. Supposedly, Melony died in the fire. Until then, Lowell had been known as a rapacious, compulsive youth. The community of Small Creek saw the fire as a tempering of his wild nature. While the death of the young woman was tragic, she did not have many prospects. Many considered Melony a bad seed, the daughter of a drunk who was destined for a life of sin. Better for her to go in the flower of youthful innocence such that Lowell could be set on the straight and narrow. No one investigated the fire. It was attributed to a faulty hot plate and shoddy wiring in the trailer.

The truth of Melony James stayed with Lowell Cammack, etched on his being in a place where only creatures like Lucy could read it. Melony James died hours before the fire. Lowell set the fire himself. He stayed inside, taking big gulps of smoke into his lungs, to make sure everyone believed him. He cried false tears to the firemen and police and his parents and Melony's father. The latter looked him in the eye with a hate Lowell would never see again. Not because he wouldn't deserve it, but because he would grow better at hiding his crimes. As to how Melony actually died, not even Lucy could know. The event remained locked away in Lowell's psyche, hidden behind decades of denial.

His sins did not end with Melony James, of course. They became smaller and more insidious, but they pervaded all of Lowell's life. He eventually married, but cheated on his wife. He tried to force her to give up their only child for adoption simply because he didn't want it. She left him for that, so he ruined her financially. In Small Creek, he bought up property whenever it came on the market, a rare event in itself. He rented it back to the people who used to own it, bleeding them out of any money they might manage to save. He stayed away from liquor except on one night each year, perversely the anniversary of Melony's death. He would spend the night in Memphis, drinking himself to death, and enacting terrible violence on whichever poor prostitute caught his eye. He used his profits to pay for the debauchery and sooth the wounds of pimps. Lowell assumed one of the hookers would kill him one day if he didn't stop, which might have been why he did it.

Lowell hid his sins under thin layers of kindness. Keeping on Humphrey, the known drunk, as a cook for years appeared a mercy. In reality, Humphrey worked for cheap so long as his meager pay could be spent on booze. Lowell chaired the local small business association, presumably to help keep Small Creek on the map. Of course, he used his position to muscle out or in businesses he wanted to undercut. He was kind and charismatic in person, but vindictive and bitter in private. Those who knew him best didn't know much about him at all. Lowell could have lived a long life without ever facing consequence for murder or general misanthropy. But, he didn't like it when his peons talked back. It was the one rare peeve that would bring out the real Lowell. Putting up a different sign for the Spanish Moss simply because he hadn't been around a while tickled that peeve to no end. The shingle reading "Hogshead" offended Lowell down to his core. So he pulled over, ready to storm in and yell some sense into Humphrey for thinking himself bigger than the low down drunk Lowell liked to keep around.

In Lowell, Lucy saw nothing redeemable. She saw no secret desire yearning to be unlocked. If she had, she would have found nothing within him that made him deserving of being rewarded. The thought of having him suckle at her breasts appalled her. The idea of empowering him to fuck other women horrified her. She doubted any transformation would be truly able to root out the wickedness so entrenched in his soul. Nor could she excise him from the town. Over the years of his life, the property ownership and debt holding allowed the tendrils of his soulrot to infect the world around him. Even if she were to send him beyond her newly established borders, his existence in the wider world would nag at her. For while Lucy believed herself to be a goddess of pleasurable sin, she did not have much interest in the presence of wickedness.

His fate set in stone the moment he entered the Hogshead. He saw Lucy sitting at the bar, a voluptuous figure of red latex sipping a pink milkshake. Across from her stood Oliver and Alice. Lowell recognized the mousy girl, but he'd never given her much attention before. Two things stood out to him at the moment. One, the fact that she was standing behind his bar as an employee he didn't hire. And two, the fact that her huge tits were about to pop out of the low cut white tank top. The woman in red stood up, picked up her milkshake, and moved to one of the red topped tables. "Mr. Cammack," she said. "I believe we have business to discuss."

***

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Lowell said, ginning up his usual charm. "You have me at a disadvantage. You know me, but I don't know you."

"I'm interested in purchasing your bar," Lucy replied.

Lowell's eyes narrowed. He knew something was off about the two behind the bar. Something more than their outfits. They had a shimmer around them like looking at something through frosted glass. "That's an interesting idea, and you certainly look like you'd be lovely to talk it over with. I'm actually stopped by to make sure I still owned the place to begin with. Oliver, where's Humphrey."

"Took the day off," Oliver said. "Feeling a bit piggish, I think."

"Piggish? What the fuck does that mean?" Lowell grumbled. "And you, little lady, what're you doing back there. Employees only."

Alice's eyes flashed at him, giving Lowell the disconcerting feeling that the innocent blue turned a dark black for a fraction of a second. "I'm helping out while Humphrey is away. Don't worry, Mr. Cammack. I'm paid in tips." She and Oliver giggled.

Lowell scanned the room. It looked cleaner and somehow softer. The tables had changed, and new spigots stood out from behind the bar. "Look, I'm losing my good mood. What in the fuck is going on here?"

Lucy drained the last bit of her milkshake with a long slurping noise. "Like I said, Mr. Cammack, I'd like to purchase your bar."

He snorted. "Fine, ten million or fuck off." He didn't like this woman. Her confidence put him on edge. Her laughter at his suggestion stirred up very old fantasies. "Who are you anyway?"

"It's Lucy, Lowell. I've gotten drunk at that bar a dozen times."

Lowell knew a Lucy, but she didn't look much like the woman sitting in his bar. She'd been a lumpy housewife who wasted her youth on some dumb buck from town. Lowell would have remembered tits and an ass like those. "Fine, Lucy," he said, preferring to humor her rather than argue. "What'd you do, kill of that dumb husband of yours and spend the insurance money on a boob job?"

She smiled, "You seem on edge. Come on, have a seat."

"Of course I'm on edge. There's some kind of shang-hai'ed situation going on here. I'm not too keen on people stealing my property."

"Is it theft if I offer to purchase it?"

"I told you my price, ten million. Sell those tits back and maybe you can afford it." Lowell heard a low growl from the two behind the bar. Once again, he thought he saw black eyes. Oliver looked bigger than he remembered. Lowell had thrown plenty of punches in his life, but rarely against someone bigger than him. He decided to mute his temper no matter how much the woman got under his skin. "Alright, fine. No reason not to hear you out. I'm always looking for a good deal."

She gestured at the chair across from her and waited until he sat down. "One dollar."

"Come on lady, cut the shit," he replied. Looking past her, he saw a stage in the corner of the bar. He didn't have a stage in his bar, especially not one padded like a damn sofa. "Oliver, what the hell is that? Humphrey been turning my bar into a damn strip club. Shit, maybe he finally had a good idea, but we're not fucking zoned for that."

Lucy answered him, "That's part of the deal, Mr. Cammack. The one dollar is ceremonial, naturally. The real price of the bar is those two. A once in a lifetime experience." She snapped her fingers. Oliver and Alice moved around the bar with a bizarre speed. Lowell wasn't even sure they'd moved at all. One minute they were behind the bar, smirking at him. The next, they stood behind the woman, each with a hand on either of her shoulders. Lucy continued, "For the legal transfer of this bar, I will give you ten seconds of pure bliss."

Lowell laughed. "I'm not into queer shit, lady. And if I wanted to be, I could get a better deal."

"No deal is better than this one, Mr. Cammack. For the price, you will get a performance unlike anything you have ever seen. Oliver and Alice will do anything for your viewing pleasure. I will have the more immediate task of ensuring your own physical enjoyment."

He didn't like the way she winced when she said it, but the idea intrigued him. Lowell was well off, but not well off enough for a private show and service from such attractive people. "An interesting prospect, but a spot on a little downtown strip, even in a podunk like this is worth a pretty penny. Sorry Ollie, you'll have to get your voyeuristic rocks off some other way. Now if you'll politely all fuck off, including you two, as you're fired, I need to get this place back in order." He moved to stand up.

"Sit down, Lowell," Lucy said, her voice no longer amused or seductive. A venomous chill pervaded her words, "How many years has it been since Melony?"

The color drained out of his face. "What?"

"The fire was a nasty way to go. And to think she never got to see what you would do with all those other girls. Of course, you never really see what you've done to them either, do you? Sure a few of the cuts and scrapes, but not the bruises. Those only show up a few days later."

"Who the fuck are you?" Lowell said.

"I'm old debt, come due. But, this is a negotiation. Oliver, what's the actual price of this spot?"

"For the building, furnishings, equipment, and stock, $475,000."

Lucy shrugged. "$475,000 in cash. A show that will give you the best orgasm of your life. And no more worrying about what I know. You can disappear from this little town and go live it big in a slightly bigger pond. Or Alice can leave, and Oliver and I will continue the conversation. I have a list of names we can discuss."

Lowell felt the rope pulling tight around his neck. Living the kind of life he did, he always harbored the idea something might come round to bite him in the ass in the end. As he saw it, Lucy offered him a pretty good deal. Maybe she didn't know about all the other property he owned, though that seemed unlikely. Maybe she didn't care and wanted the bar for some other reason. Lowell, for all his faults, at least knew when he was beaten. "So what? If I tell him to fuck her in the ass, he'll do it?"

"Yes."

"Happily," Oliver added.

"So we have a deal," Lucy said. "Show now. Then you will follow me out to a farm to sign over the papers to Humphrey."

"Humphrey? I thought you were buying it. And we'll need to call a lawyer at least. I know a buddy who'll take care of the contract —"

"No need," Lucy said. Alice handed her a folder which Lucy tossed onto the table. Lowell hadn't seen her carry it. "It's all there. You can review it now or in the car ride so long as we agree to general terms with a handshake." She offered her delicate, red hand across the table.

Lowell felt a great urge to slap her hand away and run screaming out of the building. The beautiful woman looked bigger than he thought she should. The two behind her looked fully demonic with wide, sharp grins and black eyes. A second later, it was just her hand. Lowell thought he might be going crazy. He shrugged, reached over, and clasped the red latex, trying to squeeze and failing. As Lucy squeezed back, his hand crumpled and a pain shot up his arm. When she moved her hand away, Lowell thought she took something with her. Something he shouldn't have been able to lose.

"The floor is yours, Mr. Cammack. Oliver, Alice, you can lose the clothes." Lucy stood up and walked around the table. She pulled her chair with her and placed it beside Lowell. Before taking her seat, she slipped her fingers into the top of her latex dress, pulling it down in a quick motion. Glorious flesh toppled into view. A tremendous urge to lunge at her and suck from her breasts took hold of Lowell, but he remained seated due to the glare in her eyes. From nowhere, she pulled a long strand of red rope. Working quickly, she bound Lowell's hands behind his back.