Hell's Household Ch. 02

"Pleasure golems are marvelous creatures. They can inscribe runes, take dictation, make copies of incantations, with flawless accuracy. Their service is guaranteed and eternal -- so long as the spellcaster grants them semen." One of the alabaster women took a long, luxurious lick near Cain's groin area. "But that price... can be enormous!" There seemed seven of the womanly golems in total. Despite her confusion, and horniness, Heather was morbidly fascinated.

Two of them, off to Heather's right, began to gaze with identical faces upon the other, in a lurid, libidinous hunger.

The creamy-skinned living sculptures went at each other in a sudden hunger for female flesh. Cantaloupe-like tits compressed voluminously, as feminine groins grinded against each other, arms encircled, as lips pressed together that tongues might joust within mouths.

"The golems have no choice but to succumb to the urges of Sappho should they not receive the seed they crave. The Mage must exert himself greatly, to feed even one of these lusty beings the male essence they require." He could not suppress a burst of laughter at some secret joke. "But as the spellcaster succumbs to exhaustion, he will lose control of his Pleasure golems as, in their hunger -- they transform into living women and escape to lead lusty lives of utmost depravity; whoring themselves to anyone able to muster up a hard cock. But thanks to you... demon, I can control SEVEN of them, and still my raging urges are not satisfied....." He let the threat hang in the air. But the two unsatisfied golems continued to hump and bump and grind against the other, tongues and fingers, thrusting and frigging into any and all orifices. "Sometimes I let them stew... all the sweeter when next I feed them.

"But once satisfied, they are perfect servants and secretaries -- my own raging hungers can be sated instantly, yet.... Hhahahaahahah... my Ritual Output has actually INCREASED! More Magic, and Faster than before! Yet again..." He was shaking now, a fit of vengeful gloating seized him.

"Erebus Cain has turned the tables on those that mocked him, dismissed him, thought to destroy him. But I take your slings and arrows... and my magic grows yet STRONGER!" He shook a fist in defiance. A Pleasure golem licked his arm. And that leaves us with you... Sarai'erothkok, " Why did he keep calling her that? It made no sense! He also called her demon... and demoness. Somehow, that made sense even as her intellect denied it. No, this was just one fucked-up dream. Had she eaten something incredibly spicy last night? Hmm... hadn't really been very hungry -- with all the cum. Still, this was crazy. Just a dream. All this demon-talk couldn't be real, could it? That sort of thing was just Sunday-school fantasy, wasn't it!? Wasn't it? Perhaps not. Perhaps the proof was in the pudding. And by pudding, she meant her yet-bigger boobs, the strange, flapping bat-like wings that wafted luxuriously above her, and the thrashing, pointy tail that hungered to stab into prey, even as she hoped for someone to stab into her own pussy.

"At first, my own goal was merely to inseminate you dozens of times, my spells ensuring that my seed take root within you, that you would breed for me my demoness harem to deceive, and seduce, and betray, that the witless governments of this world might be thrown into confusion. But your own treachery has opened another option." At long last, he began to turn, turn towards her. Heather's now-red eyes hungrily latched to his groin, more than eager for her first glimpse of glorious, magically-accursed cock. "For when you feel the lips of your womanhood ravished by the virile majesty of my now-legendary penis, your OWN powers will you cede unto me, that you might, once more -- BEHOLD THE SERPENT BELOW!!" He turned fully to face demoness-Heather.

Yes it was huge, no doubt. For a human member, at least. The enchanted manmeat of Erebus Cain was right at that threshold of fantasy -- the type of penis to make near any healthy female salivate; almost -- but not quite so massive as to become unthinkably ridiculous. But nearly so. It throbbed mightily at just over a foot-long; a Cock of Adventure. The sort of manhood that posed a daring challenge for which a woman might twitter with utmost excitement in locker rooms, and in close confidence. Cain had capitalized on his magical endowment by inscribing eldritch runes upon his penis that glowed silver in the firelight -- that he might invoke the two-thousand year old Prophecy and turn himself into an engine of virility able to leave the most jaded succubus shattered with pussy-drenching delights.

And The-Serpent-Below did not just throb, it pulsed, quivered, increasing in speed until... yes, his mighty meat began to shake and jitter with inhuman vigor! Cain's member had become a foot-long enchanted vibrator! Runes of enchantment promised soul-ravaging ecstasy to any cunt conquered by the potent penis.

"And once bonded to me, through the Ancient Power that throbs between my legs, it is your own trickery that will be turned against you -- you - what? Who?" He had just now studied Heather's face in the light of the flames. Clearly, she was not what he expected. "IMPOSSIBLE!"

"Look buddy, I'm not sure what's going on, but I'm not the kinda girl that needs a lot of sweet-talk," Heather began in a throaty hiss. "Can we just get down to business?" Demon-Heather squatted, and turned before the wizard, arching her spine, baring her oh-so-shapely ass. Her pussy seemed to unfurl like rose-petals to receive the Sun. She was more than sold on the benefits of this guy's vibrating python-super dick. Never before had she been so wet, so hot-and-bothered between the legs -- her first orgasm would no doubt be soon... heart hammering in anticipation, his words were almost enough. If he kept talking about harems, his wanton little sex-puppets, how his dick fulfilled some ancient, sexy prophecy, just thinking about it would tip Heather over the pussy-drenching edge into an erotic explosion totally solo.

The-Serpent-Below was still powerfully erect, but its superhuman vibrations stalled... petered off. Looking over her shoulder, Heather let out a sigh of frustration. This was really the first time any man had been disappointed upon seeing her naked.

"Eluded me? How?" The sorcerer mused to himself. A hand nervously rubbed a circular burn-scar upon his chest. "My spell... perfect! Her kind cannot refuse the Summons! Yet... she has substituted another? It seems the Ancient Sarai'erothkok is a far more wily prey than I suspected..." he shook his head. "No... my plan may still proceed!" Somehow, his wanton wand swelled even larger than before. Heather felt relief; looks like he was going to stick it to her after all! Perhaps she should worry more about the content of his mad ravings; yet with her cunt on fire like this... she'll think about what was happening far better after she got a few gallons of sperm inside her!

"You still bear all the signs of the Lilim; you are still of her Daughters! You too -- should be a suitable vessel for my designs. This changes nothing but my own, personal vengeance." Cain began to stroke his beastly meat in preparation.

"Give it to me, big guy! I've been a baaaaaaaaaaad girl!" Heather-demon replied with a shake of her ass, all-too-eager for the proceedings to begin.

"Jest if you must, Daughter of Hell, but you shall sing a different tune when the ecstasy tears your mind asunder! My sorcerous shaft shall pierce your pride, your will, and your body! You shall BEG to become my slaaaaaaaaaave... that the orgasms may continue to clench your blackened soul!" He made a grasping motion of possessive greed. "And soon, your unnatural magics shall be mine to possess, and the petty governments of this pathetic world shall be thrown into warring confusion, and the souls that flow to the Hells shall yet strengthen my Dark Pacts with unspeakable powers beyond mortal ken!" Cain raved.

"Well, are we gonna talk, or are we gonna do this?" Her tail curled high, Her ass quivering, pussy glistening. So ready. So ripe. Wordlessly, The-Serpent-Below began vibrating yet again, runes glowing with promises of forbidden pleasures. Speaking of pleasures, the Pleasure golems began to encircle the fiery summoning circle in which Heather was trapped. The sculpture-like harlots licked their white lips as they studied Heather hungrily.

"Fuck her deeeeeep, Master!" Said one.

"I want to see him do her in the ass..." Said another, indistinguishable sorcerous-slut.

"I hope she's a squirter!" An indecent automaton sneered.

"No....arguments... here." Heather's lusts were so powerful, she felt almost delirious with the need to rut. But it was not to be that simple. There was something -- someone else here. Not the golems, not the wizard, another presence. The fires in the ring around her began to rise again, and something unnatural was happening. The flames danced, swirled, wove in ways that defied nature itself --

"You dare not interfere, Wizard!" boomed a feminine voice, at once alien and familiar, from everywhere, yet nowhere....

**********

Some sense of trepidation was inevitable; despite the thoroughness of Craven's preparations. Now, his daring scheme would be put to the test. As the hauntingly gorgeous blond pulled him along with, there was a sense of himself as a lamb marching off to slaughter - a sexual slaughter.

Was it possible he was making a mistake? the seeming competition between the two women at the bar was a new touch. Had the dynamics changed in this war-between-the-sheets that those fools in the Bureau didn't believe was actually happening? Or was he dipping his manhood into the warm depths of an unknown subculture amidst forces as obscure as their own existence?

No, his plan would be unaffected. Even if he - wait... was there any ghost of a chance that this really was a real, normal girl? No... impossible; no sane human female could be attracted to the boorish pig he had represented himself as. Hmmm... could the two women simply have been unbelievably attractive prostitutes that didn't care how repulsive his conduct was?

Craven was sure - but couldn't prove it - that women with these looks - if not already supermodel-sex symbols - could only be hyper-expensive call-girls. It would be the type of operation where only money-vetted clients were accepted; and he would have to call in advance - no, women of this caliber would not be trolling bars for pick-ups.

That left only the alternative he was already persuaded of.

As blondie stepped in front of him momentarily, his fears were alleviated that his fears over what was to come might overshadow his ability to sexually perform. The bulging swells of her planetary ass sent a jolt of lust sizzling into his hardening groin, no... he was on the right track - that shapely derriere, it just couldn't be! No natural woman had the right to possess such round, mouth-watering seat-warmers, so electrifying to his deepest, most bestial instincts! There was no one part of blondie, or the readhead that was absolutely impossible for a real woman to match; it's just that the odds were too low that any one person could embody such a perfect storm of drool-worthy female assets. Like winning the lottery twenty times. But with boobs. And legs. And her Ass. And those sweeping, haunting eyebrows, that sculpted face, those lips...

The door opened to the Posh hotel room where Craven's fate would be decided. Well, if she was just an unlikely whore, then his plans would simply give her more... advertising. A lot more!

Like a tomb sealing, the door closed behind the pair.

Before removing his jacket, Craven surreptitiously pressed one of the buttons at the base of the sleeve, sending a carefully concealed signal to several, carefully concealed devices.

Blondie stripped; but... did not turn to face him. She stepped out of her sleek dress, nude splendour shining in the overhead lights. A tingling instinct took hold of him as he saw - even just the backside of her naked form. It was as if his.... clothing wanted to escape. The sweeping calligraphy of her female terrain gave him a stinging annoyance from his garments; as if his shirt and pants were trying to attack his skin, that he might discard them.

But it was odd how - unseductive the blonde demoness was acting. Surely, that's what she was, wasn't she? No woman would strip nude in a hotel room like this without some... understanding of what the man would expect. A reluctant whore? No...he was increasingly certain that spilling her drink in his groin was deliberate - she wanted to get him alone, get him here, get him naked - but there was something wrong - holding her back.

His first instinct was to approach her with tenderness, he came over and stroked her silky shoulder in a soothing gesture, before he remembered that he was supposed to be play-acting some selfish, chauvinist lout who cared only about his own ego and pleasure.

"Uhh... yeah bitch.... let's get down ta business!" he bellowed rudely. From the shake of her head, he could have sworn she would have refused him had this been a typical one-night stand. How to play this? There was some other factor at work here that he hadn't anticipated; should he try to insist roughly on sex, playing the role of the lout that he seemed to be? Was this some sort of ... test? No. As odd as this was; if she tried to resist him, it would mean that she had the sensibilities of a normal, natural woman, and thus she was not the enemy. (Plus it meant that he was wasting time!) The question of why she'd bothered to drag him up here at all he would just have to chock-up to some impulsive, female, emotional miscalculation. (Cold feet? Life of a working-girl not as glamorous as in Pretty-Woman?)

In the end, his fears where groundless.

After reaching some internal, mental threshold, she whirled on him and lunged!

Her hot, warm flesh pressed into his potent manhood with a seductive heat. Her skin was electric silk, the breath from her panting mouth fanned his libido as a gentle breeze might nurture a campfire.

"You neeeed to make love to meeeee....." Blondie purred.

What he needed was to keep his wits about him. Soon, his shirt was in a pile on the floor, and the mighty surgings of his cock seemed to encourage the deft, womanly hands that ridded him of his pants. Craven just had to draw this out long enough. The good thing about his scheme was; if he made a mistake - he could stop what was to unfold before an innocent woman would be harmed.

Draw it out, getting her fired up, control his own desire...

As the pair coupled, he began to lose track of himself. Yes, clearly at some point they must have collapsed onto the bed-spread. For the life of him, he couldn't remember what color the blankets were beneath them. Not compared to the paradise of her alluring form - to sink his hands into those firm, yet pillowy tits was to become....disconnected.

The sensations of the environment, the very ground beneath them, just seemed so unimportant next to her womanly bliss that he became... disconnected. Craven had once read in a Neurology journal that people in the throes of a profound, religious experience suffer a disabling of the part of their brain that orients them in space; allowing the sensation of immersion in the presence of a higher-power.

No, he couldn't literally be floating in a sea of bulging boobs, her slender arms could not encircle him everywhere, and her ass.... *uuunnnggg* someday, he would have to take his hands away from those ample cheeks they squeezed with wanton desire. As she thrust her tongue down his throat, Craven's body was warring with his intellect. His mind knew that he had allowed this in order to entrap a terrible threat; yet his body was defiant - demanding the right to mate-inseminate with this golden creature of lust.

As his rampant penis was encircled in a warm, wet heaven of undulating delights; he decided that some compromise was possible. He only needed one arm. One arm to disengage its death-grip upon the sloping beauty of her quivering, naked ass, to grab for something on a nearby nightstand. He did not begrudge his pelvis as it thrust up into the moist lips that hungrily encircled them, nor did he argue against the ecstatic thumping of his own heart as it soared with joy over the pleasure that would soon be his.

At this point, blending his body, mating so totally with this she-devil, the flames of his desire would not have allowed the prospect of disengaging. His hormones, his cock rode a blazing rollercoaster of sextastic stimulation that would have continued this carnal concourse even if the drapes had opened and a classroom of first-graders had been revealed as an audience. The challenge now was to think about anything else - remembering his true intent.

Everything was in readiness. He just had to press the button. Her boobs were the problem. As the copious mounds jiggled and jumped before him, eons of primal instinct demanded that he caress-grasp-handle, exult in the fertile paradox of such firm mammaries feeling so pliantly plush to the touch. To succeed, to finally free himself enough to press the button, he would have to wrench his mouth away from her throbbing, ruby-red lips, (this time not the lower ones) He could not prevent his hands from their lusting exploration of her bosomy valley, so he had to make those boobs unavailable.

He used his lips, suckling-kissing upon her diamond-hard nipple, inhaling the softness of her right boob that his tongue, his lips might take over the carnal journey that his left hand had begun, the hand that was needed to press the button at long last.

Finally, success.

Craven gripped in trembling fingers one of his rigged smartphones. which began to play live video. Now this was...different. On the small, hand-held screen, Craven could see himself entwined with the glorious blond - but indeed floating.

The rutting pair hovered nearly three feet in the air, above the bed, writhing in ecstasy unabated by the blatantly supernatural flavor to their coupling. An unearthly, golden nimbus seemed to emanate from the ravishing female - all captured on cameraphone.

"Have several.... phones... different rooms... relaying images..." Craven gasped, even as his seething cock continued to plunge into the unearthly woman gyrating above him.

"No..." she grunted, her teeth clenched.

"You'll give me.... what I want..." Craven snarled. He really was trying to break away from this supernatural floating exorcist freak-lady, but his penis wasn't done yet, and his lips betrayed him, frequently latching back on to suckle those glorious, golden gazongas. "Or I'll...*SLURPLE* email my pics to - *SUCKLE* hundreds of news agencies and... *POP* police departments... old FBI buddies too...*SLURP*

"Won't.... help you..." Blondie grunted. She too, despite the fact that Craven never thought he was all that special to look at, she was now consumed by an erotomania no less demanding than his own.

"MMMMmmmmmhhh.... not about me... about you." In truth, Craven was surprised. Floating was a new trick.

He was actually expecting wings...

and a tail...

"Feds... deny it... but your kind... hurting people...hundreds of... disappearances.... sexual mutations.... *MMM-SUCK* I send you.... doing this "There-is-no-Dana-only-Zuul" routine... someone will believe... someone will investigate... your kind... can't afford it. Have to have secrecy... you can't afford expo- mmmm *SLURP* posure."

She howled, eyes shut, lips drawn back, her pussy tightening hungrily around Craven's raging member.

"You..... don't understand... Craven...." Had he told her his name? No....

"You want... to stop the Lilim.... and I... I want to help youuuu...."she moaned, in between thrusts.

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