Jane's Demonic Cock

Their kiss was extremely hot for Jane, given that she knew her bestie's hangups about kissing. For Alahna, kissing was the ultimate expression of intimacy. Several times, she'd sex with guys and dumped them before ever kissing them once. She had never kissed Azalok, despite fucking his abominable cock, and had only kissed Jane in a moment of extreme passion. Now that the seal was broken, Alahna kissed Jane regularly, but it always felt like a forbidden act, a kinky secret shared only by the two besties.

The two were smooching passionately, fondling and rubbing and growing lost in one another's bodies, when a blast of noise rent the air. The walls reverberated like organ pipes. Jane's bones vibrated along with the infernal tone, and her very soul hummed in unison. A huge gout of dark flame whooshed to life in the kitchenette, within which could be seen a fulminating mass of molten energy. A black silhouette strode out of the burning aperture, a tall dark shadow with two red eyes which burned like coals. A pair of twisted horns jutted from its scalp, and black wings loomed behind it.

There was no time for Jane to be afraid, or even give the standard exclamation of What the fuck? As suddenly as it had begun, the event was over. The soulshaking reverberation ceased, the searing flame winked out, and the frightening shadow resolved into a man, who just happened to be the most handsome man Jane had ever seen.

Azalok.

The demon wore his usual outfit, apparently his standard costume for visits to earth-realm. His fashion sense was effortlessly chic, if a bit behind the times: ripped jeans, white shirt, and leather jacket, like he'd stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad from 1999. He had a bodybuilder's physique, and Jane, who hated the gym, appreciated the time and effort it took to sculpt a fit body, although she suspected that demon physiology worked a bit differently from humans.

The demon smirked when his dreamy midnight blue eyes fell on the girls, instantly appraising the situation and realizing he'd caught them in flagrante. His expressive lips curled, and he thoughtfully stroked the dark stubble dotting his masculine jawline.

"Have I come at a bad time?" he asked in a baritone rumble, just a hint of teasing beneath his placid tone.

Jane squealed and scampered across the apartment, shouting "Azzy!" and glomming onto the demon with a fierce hug, which was somewhat awkward given her hugely gravid tummy. She tilted her head back, and Azalok obliged her by leaning down for a deep kiss. Jane clutched both of his stubbly cheeks in her slender hands as they passionately made out until she had to pull away breathlessly. Only then did the pair seem to remember that they weren't alone.

"Ah, Alahna," said Azalok, a bit out of breath himself. "Forgive my rudeness."

The Kiwi girl seemed to grow keenly aware that she was wearing a very revealing outfit which left little to the imagination. Although she'd done her share of fooling around with Azalok on his last visit, she couldn't help a rosy blush as the demon's appraising eye fell upon her. He hesitated, as if deciding what manner of greeting would be appropriate.

Alahna made the decision for him, and simply offered her fist. Azalok considered it pensively for a moment before realization dawned on him, and he bumped her fist with a hearty chuckle.

"Fist bump!" he announced gleefully. "You humans invent the most delightful social conventions."

"To what do we owe the pleasure, dude?" asked Alahna, unable to hide her faint mistrust of Azalok. Jane knew that her bestie resented Azalok getting her pregnant, if only because the demon hadn't asked Alahna's permission first. "And what the Hell was with that entrance?"

"Ah, my apologies," said Azalok. "Crossing the threshold between Hell and earth tends to produce a sort of... disturbance. I thought Jane ought to see what travel is like before she experiences it for herself."

Azalok turned to Jane and with a coy smile asked, "Would you like to go to Hell today, my dear?"

"Now?" sputtered Jane. "Like, right now?"

Azalok furrowed his brow, as if he didn't understand why Jane should be shocked.

"Well, why not?" said the demon. "Have you some pressing engagement today?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Then I see no reason why we should delay," said Azalok. "The sooner we reach my home, the sooner I can copulate with you."

Jane blushed furiously at the casual way Azalok announced his lascivious intent.

"I'm hardly dressed," protested Jane.

Azalok gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Your outfit is perfectly acceptable in Hell. Do not worry on it overmuch."

Jane bit her lip, imagining prancing around Hell wearing only a slinky, near-translucent chemise and a skimpy thong, being leered at by the underworld's lecherous denizens. The thought caused her core to throb wantonly, already primed from Alahna's attentions.

As Jane pondered, Azalok turned to Alahna.

"Will you be joining us, Alahna?" asked Azalok. "You are, of course, most welcome."

Alahna seemed to snap out of a surprised trance at being addressed directly.

"You're asking me to go to Hell with you, dressed like a slut, visit your house, and then probably fuck you as well?"

Azalok shrugged. "Basically, yes."

The Kiwi girl bit her lower lip pensively, evidently conflicted despite her blunt and skeptical assessment of things.

"C'mon, A," purred Jane. "It wouldn't be the same without you. And besides, I need you to look out for me in case I do something... impulsive."

Alahna sighed heavily and rolled her eyes, her protective instincts making the decision for her.

"Fine, fine," she said. "But at least let me put on a coat."

As Alahna bundled a heavy winter coat over her lingerie, Jane shut down her webcam, hardly disappointed at having her shoot interrupted. This is a perfect reason to postpone, she thought.

"So how do we do this?" Jane asked. "Are we just going to poof our way there?"

"No, no," said Azalok with a shake of his head. "Humans are too fragile to withstand direct transference. We shall use a different route. Take these."

He produced from his jacket pockets two talismans, a pair of small round stones. They were black and obsidian smooth, inscribed on one side with a complicated rune or glyph. It consisted of a double cross with two horizontal lines above a figure-eight symbol which reminded Jane of a mobius strip.

"That's the alchemical symbol for brimstone," said Alahna.

Jane raised a quizzical eyebrow at her friend, as if to say, how the hell do you know that?

Alahna shrugged. "What? I've been googling all this occult shit. I'm surprised you haven't."

"Alahna is correct," said Azalok. "It is also known as the Leviathan's Cross, a symbol of great power in my lands. Holding it will allow you to tread the corridors between realms without experiencing... well, death."

He handed one to Jane and one to Alahna. The stone felt smooth and cool in Jane's hand, strangely heavy despite its small size. Having no pockets to speak of just then, Jane merely clutched it, while Alahna slipped hers into a coat pocket.

"Now, if you will indulge me, I require a door, preferably one made of wood, with a knob instead of a handle."

Azalok glanced around the apartment, searching for a suitable match. His eyes settled on the door to Jane's closet, a simple brass-handled door with a wooden body painted gray. Procuring a small silver dagger from his coat, Azalok pricked his own finger. With the blood oozing from the wound, he deftly drew upon the door a series of runes in a language Jane didn't recognize.

"Enochian script," said Alahna, in response to Jane's questioning glance. "The language of angels and demons." The athletic girl smirked, clearly pleased with herself for possessing knowledge which Jane did not.

Azalok completed his inscription and wiped the blood from his finger, which seemed to heal almost instantly. The writing on the door began glowing with purple-black effulgence, and an ethereal light shone from underneath. Azalok grinned at the girls and with a showman's flourish threw open the door.

"Ladies... I give you Hell."

The door should have led to Jane's closet.

But what lay beyond was very not Jane's closet.

Peering with trepidation, Jane glimpsed through the doorframe a hazy aperture into another world. Through an indistinct portal, like the surface of cloudy water, Jane grasped hints and suggestions of what lay beyond: startling otherworldly geometry, the bizarre shapes of living things moving past, the muffled and disconcerting sounds of machines whining and grumbling, the overwhelming aroma of flesh and sweat and metal.

It was a city.

Azalok stepped through first, proving it was safe, his feet moving from Jane's carpet to the inexplicable stone surface beyond. He beckoned them forward. Jane went first, taking a hesitant step, and as she crossed the threshold she experienced something akin to being on an airplane just after takeoff, a pressure that built and built in her ears until with a sudden pop, she acclimated.

And just like that, she was in Hell.

Alahna came through behind her, grabbing Jane's hand firmly, though it was unclear if it was for Jane's comfort or her own.

"Welcome to Hell," said Azalok. "To be specific, the District of Iron, in the City of Dis, within the Sixth Circle."

"Holy fucking shit," breathed Alahna.

Jane allowed Azalok to take her hand, leading the girls gently along in a train of linked hands down the wide boulevards of Dis. Jane stared in disbelief, mouth gaping, eyes wide. Some part of her had still held onto the belief that Azalok was full of shit, that whatever supernatural abilities he possessed, he couldn't actually be from Hell. But there was no denying it:

Jane had gone to Hell.

~~~~~~

The first thing Jane noticed about Hell was how warm it was. She might have expected inferno-like levels of heat, but truthfully it was rather temperate. An acrid tang of brimstone permeated the air, mixing with the urban scents of metal and stone.

Turning in place, she saw that they were in the courtyard lined with wooden doors like the one they'd just passed through, all inscribed with runic characters such as those Azalok had scrawled on her closet.

Watching agape, Jane saw another door open across the courtyard. Three men, excessively tall and gangly, came through, all swaddled in thick fur coats and hats. A gust of icy wind came after them, and through the open door Jane glimpsed a blizzard-wreathed mountain crag. Sighing in relief, the men doffed their furs, revealing that each was totally bald and absolutely identical. Seeing Azalok's company, the bald men waved and said in unison, "Hail, Marquis of the Umbral Plains!"

Azalok replied with a courteous inclination of his head.

"Who were they?" asked Jane as the trio moved on.

"I have no idea," said Azalok. "This is the Portway of Dis, a major point of ingress and egress into Hell. From here, a door might lead to anyplace in the material plane. You never know who you might bump into."

"They knew you, though," muttered Alahna, someplace between annoyed and impressed.

Azalok beckoned to the girls, smirking happily at their disorientation, and led them from the courtyard into Dis' main thoroughfare. A raw and red sun shone down on Hell's architecture, a twisted amalgamation of glass, steel, concrete, and stone. On one corner Jane saw a majestic gothic cathedral, from which low chanting echoed. On the opposite corner was a skyscraper that would have been right at home in Manhattan or Dubai.

Following along as Azalok set off along the sidewalk, Jane marveled as a sleek 1970s hotrod roared passed them, a two-headed man cackling as he floored the accelerator, followed a moment later by a gigantic stag beetle ridden by two nude women perched upon a saddle.

A man with pink skin and three eyes, dressed like a Victorian dandy, stopped them on the sidewalk and bowed to Azalok with an excessive flourish. As before Azalok gave only the briefest nod in response. Evidently he's used to people genuflecting, thought Jane. Am I, like, dating a famous guy?

"Are you like a king or something?" blurted Alahna, voicing Jane's thoughts.

"No, no," replied Azalok with a chuckle. "There is but one King of Hell, and he reigns eternal."

A commotion stirred ahead in a park placed amongst the city streets. There a crowd had gathered in a loose circle, and they seemed to be cheering wildly over something happening in their midst. Jane, possessed by curiosity, wandered in that direction, trusting the others to follow. Gently nudging her way to the front of the crowd, Jane got a good look at what was happening.

And the sight of it made her gasp.

Nine naked women were clapped into wooden stocks, bent forward and held fast by the wrists and necks. Their butts, which ranged from pale to dark brown in hue, stuck out behind them, looking very exposed and vulnerable. Young-seeming, Jane judged them to be about her and Alahna's age, young and shapely. The faces she could see held pained and humiliated expressions, with a note of terror as well, and Jane soon realized why.

A pale and elfin woman dressed in little more than a few straps of black leather faced the row of nude asses and raised a stupendous cat o' nine tails into the air, twisting it to smite the air with a vicious crack. The pilloried girls squealed and squirmed in their bonds, availing them nothing, and the petite woman laughed menacingly as she cracked the whip again.

"You bitches are in for it now!" said the elfin woman in a surprisingly husky voice for someone of her stature. A long black braid hung behind her, swinging whip-like itself as she moved.

She raised the cat o' nine tails above her head, swirling it once, twice, thrice, and then brought it down with a violent motion. Each of the whip's nine tails cracked savagely onto nine exposed butts, deftly hitting each one with precise accuracy. Screeches and howls of pain issued from the pilloried girls, who now had matching angry red stripes on the soft flesh of their asses.

The crowd went wild, and Jane observed all manner of Hellish denizens swept up in the euphoria: jackal-headed men, women with four breasts, granite-skinned gargoyles, beings of living fire, and a great number of people who seemed more or less human down to their earth-appropriate business casual attire. Several people were openly masturbating at the display, and Jane couldn't deny a perverse sexual thrill at seeing the women being whipped, though she marvelled at how brazen Hell's inhabitants could be.

The cat o' nine tails came down three more times, each time cracking viciously and with perfect aim. By now the pilloried girls were weeping openly, begging for mercy, their asses inflamed to fiery crimson. One of the spectators, a black-bearded troll possessed by sexual frenzy, rushed forward from the crowd, his massive erection bobbing in the air as he sprinted for the nearest stock. His intent was clear, and Jane wondered if audience participation was part of this show.

"Back!" shouted the elfin woman, and swung her malicious whip at the interloper. One of the tails cracked across the troll's face, two more across his chest, and a fourth directly on his cock. The horny spectator was sent sprawling, earning jeers and laughter from the rest of the crowd. He crawled back to his place, nursing his wounded dick.

"These bitches are mine to punish, understand?" yelled the petite whip-wielder to the crowd. "Mine."

She surveyed the spectators, who had reached a state of lusty mania, and smirked with satisfaction.

Then her eyes fell upon Jane.

The elfin woman's smirk grew so wide that it seemed almost to split her face in half, and a predatory glint shone from her yellow eyes. Winding her whip up into a tight circle, she strode across the clearing to where Jane stood, her hips swaying sensuously as she moved. The woman's outfit left little to the imagination, and while the leather straps criss-crossed her body from neck to ankles, they left her tiny breasts, smooth belly, and attractive sex totally exposed. Silver piercings decorated her body, several in each ear, a stud in her nose, three across her eyebrows, a ring in her lip, bars through both long, pink nipples, and a one more in her belly button.

Coming to a stop in front of Jane, the woman fixed her with an appraising gaze, tilting her head up slightly since Jane was actually a bit taller. Suddenly Jane felt very vulnerable, acutely aware that she was only wearing a semi-translucent negligee and a skimpy pink thong, not to mention her huge and obvious baby bump. Energy seemed to throb from Jane's occupied womb at the thought, and her core throbbed responsively. She felt herself blush, her heartbeat quickening, and the pale woman in the bondage gear raised an eyebrow.

"Am I turning you on?" she asked playfully, her voice pitched low enough that only those close by could hear.

"Umm," was all Jane could manage. Because the truth was, this slender, elfin woman with the expert whip skills was definitely turning Jane on. The black leather strappy outfit which criss-crossed the girl's body was insanely hot, not to mention slutty, and Jane could imagine it in her own closet. It was much more her style than the coy, pink chemise and panty set that Alahna had chosen for her. With all this going through her head, Jane was at a loss for words.

Suddenly Azalok was beside her, his comforting bulk looming protectively, and Alahna appeared as well, taking Jane's hand and squeezing it.

"Who's the goth chick?" asked Alahna, and Jane recognized the fierce set of her bestie's posture, as if to say I'm ready to fight if that's what you want.

The goth chick in question looked at Alahna curiously then back at Jane. Finally, with a titter of laughter, she turned to Azalok.

"So these are the ones?" she asked. "They're hot, Azalok. Especially the pregnant one."

"Astarte," said Azalok, a chiding note in his baritone voice, "you are being rude."

"Of course, forgive me," said Astarte. "That's me, Astarte, Countess of the Stygian Wastes, Captain of Hell's Fourth Legion, Fallen Watcher, Servant of the Morningstar, yadda yadda yadda." She made a show of a comically complicated bow and flourish. "It's all so stuffy, isn't it? Honestly I hate all that shit. Just call me Astarte. And you must be Jane, yes? I've heard so much about you."

Jane finally found her voice, saying, "Uh, yes. I'm... I'm, uh, Jane." And then, because her own words sounded so stupid in her ears, she quickly added: "What did they do? The girls in the stocks, I mean."

"Oh, them," said Astarte, rolling her eyes. "American sorority girls. They were piloting a speedboat drunk at a lake party on fall break. Fifteen people dead, including themselves. Now they're mine." She smiled wickedly. "Don't let their screams fool you -- these silly sluts are totally into this."

Azalok chuckled knowingly. "The Damned crave penance," he said, nodding his head. "And they can be very demanding in their need to atone."

As if one cue, a pained wail arose from one of the pilloried girls, a blonde and tanned young woman who strained piteously against her bonds, flexing and writhing and grinding her thighs together. Jane saw that it was true: despite their protests, these Damned souls did want it -- at least on some level.

"It seems you have business to attend to," said Azalok. "We do not wish to keep you, for we have plans as well." Saying this, he shot Jane a sidelong smirk, letting her know exactly what plans he was referring to. She grew hotter at the insinuation, especially directed as it was to a sexy stranger. Like he doesn't care at all who knows we're about to fuck.