tagHumor & SatireLuciferella




Luciferella sat playing chess with a woman from Knightsbridge for her eternal soul.

The game was, as could be expected in these sorts of things, going very badly for the woman. She had but a few pawns left. Luciferella had her castles, knights and, of course, all the bishops.

It was understandable that under such circumstances the woman should be in no great hurry to move her last piece. Luciferella grew impatient.

"Och! It is a feckin' pity," said she at last, "'at we did nae fix some time period within which th' player main move, ur forfeit everythin'."

"O, Luciferella," returned the woman in a heart-rending tone, "it is not the impending loss of my soul that gives me pause, but the loss of my fiance. When I think of all the grief that young master Dick will soon be faced with, that paragon of manly good looks!"

With that tears choked her. Luciferella cocked one eyebrow.

"Is yer yoong master Dickie's looks sae surpassin' as 'at?" she inquired.

"He is as thick around as my wrist," the woman began, holding up her forearm for inspection. "He is an oak tree among men, a diamond among coal tailings. He is the very morning star!"

"Nae, Ah hink that's mah line. If 'at is th' case," retorted Luciferella cheerfully. "Ye can reassure yerself. yer yoong master Booby shaa nae want fur solace. When ye ur gain Ah will assume yer shape an' feck heem fur ye."

This revelation was not exactly the comfort the woman had been hoping for. She made a desperate move. In an instant Luciferella checkmated her and she disappeared in a poof of cosmic dust that smelled strongly of library paste and Glasgow beer.

"Feck! If Ah hud knoon whit a business thes was gonnae be, Ah dornt hink Ah shoods hae gart th' offer," thought Luciferella, as, wearing Cosima-Poppy Darling's appearance, for that was the damned woman's name, she installed herself in the former's condo. She surveyed the effects to which she now had to make some sense of. They included closets full of skirts and shirts, collars, hats, pumps and flats, more bottles of Boodles British gin than a human liver could handle and all the things that an upper-class twit might have to offer, etcetera. The former owner did not seem to be a deep thinker at all, though there were three legal summons, ten bounced checks, seventy-four unpaid parking bills and the whole video collection of "The Slushy, In-Bred Girl's Guide to the Arts of Lust, Love, Sex, Seduction, Bondage and Submission."

"Whit? nae Domination?" Luciferella scoffed.

Writing down the address of her soon-to-be conquest, the daemoness sallied forth. However, nothing but her own ignorance of the geography of these particular condos forced her to take the back stairs; thus saving herself from the clutches of two loan-collection functionaries, a rogue haberdasher, a slop of fops and the rapscallion Hyde Park panty thief. After a quick jaunt in a taxi she shortly found herself at young master Dick's doorstep.

Cosima-Poppy Darling had not been exaggerating with her praise. Such good looks! such wit! such rigour of posture! Not even Merlin's 14-inch monster-cock had produced half the emotions upon her that dear Dickie had. For his part he had never had known Cosima-Poppy to be so interesting while sober, so sultry, so extremely available as she was that morning.

A scant few minutes after walking through the door, there she was, kneeling in front of him with her mouth open, taking in as much of his horse-cock as she could. Her purple eyes were looking up into his smoldering dark ones, watching his facial expressions. She wanted to see if she could detect the second just before he would explode inside her, filling the back of her throat with mortal cum. She watched his eyes soften and his mouth open into an O. She felt him grab the back of her skull, tilting it so her throat was better angled as he tried to shove as much of himself into her as possible.

Later that morning Luciferella, licking her lips, left his apartment as a love-sick fiend.


Back at home Luciferella reflected on these curious turns of events. She had all but gotten him to name their wedding day, when, to her irritation, her musing were interrupted by being informed that a nun desired to talk to her.

"She wants bunsens fur a new kirk ur mission, Ah suppose," said she, knowing full well that over half the Church's missions were funded by demonic enterprises. "Och! Brin' 'er up."

But when the visitor was ushered in Luciferella found, with some anxiety, that she was no earthly mortal at all -- but an ethereal nun -- a Puritan one, too, with whom Luciferella had never been able to get on with.

"Ye cannae gab tae nuns abit blowjobs, mah mammy always said," Luciferella reflected.

This particular nun, while on earth, had been a head mistress of an all girl, all chaste school (one of only three that had, sine the concept of segregating the sexes had been invented, ever successfully been able to pull off keeping that many girls under one roof without the finger-fucking orgies) Her voice was curt, precise, peremptory.

"I am here," she said, "to notify you of my appointment as Inspector-General of Devilettes."

"Whit!" exclaimed Luciferella in alarm. "Tae th' post ay mah auld mukker, Mary 'bury me in a Y-shaped coffin', Magdalene?"

"She was deemed too old for the job," said the Puritan dryly. "She was about your age, I think? Around two thousand, give or take?"

Luciferella rolled her eyes. The Puritan continued.

"Back when I was alive--" and here the nun sniffed in disgust "--the S-word was simple, elementary, uncomplicated--"

"Th' S-word?" blinked Luciferella.

"Of course."

"Whit? 'Sauerkraut'?" and she shuddered in disgust.

"No, of course not; for a Puritan sauerkraut is delicious."

"Och! 'Skullduggery'?"


"Nae th' dreaded 17-letter s-word? 'Snugglebunnies'?"

"What are you talking about? Are you smoking crack in your free time?"

"Ah always wanted tae hear a nin say 'at!"

The dead nun looked put out, which, perhaps, is the natural state for a dead nun.

"Listen, you imbecilic cyprian, once upon a time the sin of Lust was simple, straight-forward, uncomplicated. A Lust Demon's job was easy. You didn't have to do anything; hint at showing your ankle and the royals of the land would follow you like lapdogs. Men would sell their souls simply to possess one of your snot-covered handkerchiefs. But now--"

"Aye," sighed Luciferella. "Feckin' 'as become mair difficult. Dae ye ken hoo mony kinky oorgies Ah hae tae tryst jist tae gie a bloke interested? If it's nae anal wi' Beelzebubbie an' daein' 'oke aff Molocha's tittes, 'en it's nae gang, Maister Cheil."

"I don't even know what you just said but it certain sounded foul and perverted," the nun said, stamping a foot. "Saints and ministers! You've been living on Earth for over two centuries and you've yet to lose your distasteful Edinburgh accent. Don't you get out once in a while?"

"Ah am nae frae Auld Reekie!" Luciferella cried, aghast. "A' fowk knows th' Devil li'es in Killiecrankie."

"If you say so," the nun said, adjusting her habit. "But I didn't come here to trade poorly written quips. I am God's new dust broom and you should expect a good, hard cleaning! I warn you, Fornicator, that I mean to be rigorous and righteous and firm. Firm and hard! -- Stop your giggling! Here now is one little matter which I must set to rights at once. You are going to marry that damned woman's betrothed, are you? Now you know you cannot take a new husband, unless you give up your old one."

"Och! Mah hen 800-year auld virgin," exclaimed Luciferella. "Whit an unspeakably canty prospect yoo've jist suggested tae me!"

"I don't know about that," sniffed the Puritan. "I must remind you, though, that the dominion of the nether regions is presently attached to the current High Prince. Of course, you can divorce him, but if you do that you immediately lose all your infernal authority. I don't give a pope's spittoon what you do, but you must understand that you cannot engage in fornication with more than one person and ... er, enjoy it, too."

"Actually, Ah can. That's a body ay th' perks ay bein' a devilette."

"Pliff and plaff. Good day to you, madam!"

Truth be told, there was conflict in Luciferella's ever-changing bosom ("Ah can make them huge ur wee dependin' oan mah moods!") If any stronger passion than passion existed within her -- just at that moment -- it would have had to be her attachment to Dick ("Och! Ah loove mah Dick!") Still, she thought, moodily picking a stray louse from her pubes and eating it, her aversion to her current consort was rather impressive, too. Prince Belial had grown old, developed an impressive pot-belly and his once legendary cock now hang limp and useless below his kneecaps, even when she did her scandalous "'ankee pankee jink" for him. She had tried polygamy once during her stint as a Mormon, but the less said about that debacle the better. Plus there was the whole "dethroning herself simply to live a couple of decades of happiness" that caused the poor daemonette to knit her brows and pace the floor.


Feeling herself unable to come to a decision she sent for Caracona, to whom she unfolded her problem, requesting her advice.

"What a shame that the new Inspector will not let you marry young master Dick!" lamented her counselor, parading around in her red latex catsuit with her freshly painted horns. "If you did, my lady, my private opinion is that in 48-hours afterward you would bore with him just as much as you do now with Prince Belial. You are a fickle creature. Are your intentions really echt?"


"I mean, my lady, honorable."

"Aye," lamented Luciferella sadly, "Fur some odd reason, every tois ay thee hunder years Ah faa in loove. It's queer."

"What's really queer," rejoined Caracona. "Is that if you just tempted him to commit a sin of Lust, he'd be yours without any stipulations at all."

"Och! Caracona," said Luciferella, "Ah cannae brin' myself tae be Tempter ay sae much beauty an' humur an' unspoiled cheil-cock go to waste."

"My poor, abused lady," cooed Caracona, kissing her open mouth. "Let me see what I can do to help you with your pain."

Caracona sucked at her lady deeply, rubbing her lips and tongues against Luciferella's. They both closed their eyes while Luciferella let out a stifled moan, arching her back into Caracona's embrace; reaching up her 7-inch tongue into Caracona mouth, beckoning her tongues to join her.

Caracona dropped her hands onto Luciferella's; pushing her mouth deeper into Luciferella's, sending both her tongues reaching down the other's throat.

"Och!" Luciferella moaned through clamped lips.

Caracona glided her hands over Luciferella's body, sliding her fingers down Luciferella's cleavage and cupping one of her breasts in her hairy palm. She pinched her rigid and firm nipples and felt her lady's body respond.

"Wa am Ah worryin' abit a mortal cheil-cock when Ah hae thes?" Luciferella thought.

Caracona felt Luciferella's jaw quiver as she brought her hand down her belly; between her legs akimbo she touched the sticky mephistophelian wetness.

Luciferella unhinged her jaw and opened her mouth even wide; letting out a breathy sigh into Caracona's mouth, while her counselor -- and Custodian of the Imperial Clitoris -- found Luciferella's all slippery and firm with her middle finger; began to stroke it gently.

"Braw," Luciferella shivered, slipping out a continuous stream of saliva and deep mmm-noises into Caracona's receiving mouth; all the while gripping her hand harder.

"Aye, reit thaur," Luciferella murmured through Caracona's stifling kiss.

Luciferella's body shuddered and shook on the cusp of an orgasm. Her hot breath snorted out of her nostrils, scalding the air. Slowly, slowly and then like a banshee she bolted up, her eyes springing wide open. Her tail uncurled, making its trademark "bingo" noise of ecstasy. Caracona's face hovered over hers while the rest of her body continued its finger fucking assault. Her concentration was completely focused on the intense feeling throbbing in her eyes and pulsating in her tip of her nose and fingertips.

"Mmrphh...mrph!" Luciferella gurgled while her body arched and a jet of daemonette-cum erupted from deep inside her, burning a three-foot hole in the floor where she had been laying.

Caracona lifted her dripping face off of Luciferella, her eyebrows smoking, licking and rubbing the spittle off her chin while Luciferella took in a huge breath, still feeling the lasting after-effects of her orgasm.

"But whit am Ah tae dae?" the poor daemoness asked some time later, curled in Caracona's arms and moodily playing one of her friend's massive ass cheeks.

"Didn't you have this same problem back in the 18th-century with that stupid Giacomo Casanova de Seingalt? Weren't you all, 'Och Caracona, Ah hae ne'er hud sic' a big cock inside me!' And then what happened? Give a mortal fifty years of hard fucking and they go all limp and pot-bellied on you. Why not wait fifty years and see if young master Dick is still any of that?"

"Ah suppose."

"And really, my lady, were you really going to spend the next century being called 'Cosima-Poppy Darling' on a daily basis? You will lose all respect, especially at the next Friends of Stalin Society 'Show Your Bottom' competition."

Luciferella sighed. "Fifty years, ye say?"

"Trust me, I have a sister-in-law who moonlights as an Impotence Demon, sort of the pariah of the family. I'll send her around to his flat. You'll soon be calling him young master Floppy."

"Mebbe 'at nin was reit. Feckin' seemed sae much easier in th' auld days."

"What? And come down with the bubonic plague again? Give me modern medicine any day. Anyway, that is what grumpy old people always say, my lady. Let me call Beelzebubbie and Molocha down for you. A little crack-cocaine off their breasts, an all-week orgy of strap-ons and fisting, and you'll soon forget all about your silly little Dick."

"Och!" sighed Luciferella. "Och and aye."

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