Demon Toy Ch. 01

Any other day, Daphne would have never dreamed of touching herself so intimately in public. She would have blushed bright red from the very thought. But last night, her world had come crashing down around her. Today, she was willing to tug at any little shred of pleasure she would get her fingers on.

In maybe five minutes, she was gasping, driving her thumb against her little button fast enough to make a serious gamer proud. She was sweating all over despite the cold. The four finger of her right hand were buried up to the knuckle in her tender flesh. A car drove by, the driver not even noticing.

Daphne quivered with the last of her stolen pleasure and stood up on her unsteady legs. She took a tenuous step forward, her ankle nearly buckling under her slight weight.

A raven crowed overhead. Daphne heard a woman scream as if being slammed against the sidewalk.

Elsewhere, Martin, the priest of Cernunnos, burned powerful herbs and brandy on the stolen remains of a dead maiden, a stranger with flaming red hair. Around him, young college girls began to dance and strip, their bodies twirling and gyrating seductively, making Martin's phallus under his black robe very aware of their every movement. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and he had the urge to pant like an overheated animal.

A mysterious, soft, drum-like music seemed to emanate from the depths of another world. The soft flesh of the girls' breasts flickered in and out of the darkness as the magic flame played about their tender young bodies. Their shapely thighs seem to go on forever. Every step, every bump, every twist held the promise of flesh gliding against flesh. Every breath spoke volumes. Their skin glistened with moisture.

The spirit of the dead girl rose from her burning corpse and yanked Martin's cock free from his robes.

His gentle brown eyes swelled with lust as they caught subtle glimpses of ankles, asses, and breasts. The students' hair moved wildly as they continued to strut and gyrate devilishly. Horns grew from their foreheads and their movements became more savage and sexy.

The spirit slowly thrust the priest's cock into her mouth. She teased the head softly with her tongue.

Daphne moaned, her cunt overflowing again.

Martin writhed as his length disappeared into the spirit's mouth. He opened his eyelids and saw the world out Daphne's eyes, saw her little suburb, felt her sore wet pussy, was flooded with her fear and depression.

The sound of the drums pulled him back into his body. He saw the fire, saw his wet penis standing up in front of him, saw the herbs and the blackening corpse and then was quickly lost again in the dance.

His mouth was wide open. He squeezed the head of his own cock ruthlessly. The spirit was upon him again, flicking her tongue against his sensitive nerve clusters, nibbling, swallowing, pulsing her hungry face on his extended member. The priest was mad with lust.

The music became faster and faster, and the girls twisted and gyrated themselves into a neat line. Perfectly synchronized, they dug their fingers into their flesh and spilled their own blood. They fell writhing to the floor and clutched at their wet genitals, pushing fingers into themselves, stroking their clits greedily, tearing at themselves savagely, digging every ounce of pleasure they could out of their bodies.

Daphne steadied herself on a mailbox and counted strands of grass on the lawn in front of her. An old dandelion in corner seemed to blaze like the sun itself.

With great will, Martin pulled his hard cock from the mouth of the spirit girl and she spread her legs to welcome him.

He navigated his way into her quickly. Her cunt was warmer than most of the spirits he had fucked over his short service to Cernunnos. Perhaps it was the heat of the fire warming the flesh she had abandoned. She was quite warm and tight, and very, very aroused.

Her body seemed be designed to yank pleasure from him. He was in ecstasy beyond climax. He couldn't be sure whether he had spilt his seed in her or not. He had left his own body and become pleasure itself. He felt his god filling him, felt him tingling in his fingers, toes and genitals. The night canopy filled his mind's eye. The stars were so beautiful. Every atom danced with energy and sex and made him gasp with pleasure.

Daphne clutched her stomach. Her palms were sweaty and it was hard to cling to the mailbox.

A shooting star flew across the heavens and burst into a thousand little stars which swallowed the world.

The last of the corpse blackened.

Daphne woke up with a start. She shook her head from side to side and quickly forgot the dream.

Martin fell to the ground panting, as though he had just ran a marathon. The girls' wounds healed, and they threw on their clothing and hurried to their next class.

The ghost of the redheaded girl waved goodbye and rose to heaven, carried by the herbs and ashes.

Daphne felt something inside her give way. The winter afternoon didn't look quite so cold and gray, and the branches of the bare trees looked somehow clean and unbelievably beautiful to her.

She marched to the store as though she had every right to go there, bought the cream, and applied it in a stall in the public restroom. Her cunt was so wet she had to dry it off with a paper towel beforehand, but instead of being embarrassed, Daphne giggled playfully.