Niceman Black and The Sabbat

"Mhm. A damned nasty one too. But I freed him from it. You can expect your Father Fitzpatrick to be back on his best behavior again, boring as he may be."

"That was your purpose here tonight? To rid our village of that demon?"

"No, Niceman Black. Father Fitzpatrick's torment is only a symptom of the true issue befalling your home. The truth is, your little village, in all its sanctimonious hypocrisy, has garnered some truly nasty entities. Sweet little Puritan hamlets seem to be the fashionable sect of humanity to mess with nowadays. Father Fitzpatrick's little parasite is only an infestation that has attracted the attention of a big player. I won't go into details, Niceman Black. You will see the demon lord for yourself."

"Now hold on," Niceman Black said, standing. "I didn't sign up for any of this. I'm just here to get some help for my wife, Hope. She's afflicted with the consumption, see, and I just came to get a cure." The woman looked up to him, those ruby irises smoldering with interest.

"I can help your love, Niceman," she said, a slight laugh catching her words. "But first, you have to help me. I'm not some angel, but I have a touch of the divine. However, I have been weakened by cleansing your village. I'm not sure if I have enough strength to withstand my high profile guest. But you. I can see you're one of the good ones.I need the purity of your soul to help me banish this demon."

"I've never banished a demon before," Niceman said, his heart racing as anxiety heated his body. "I can't help you. This is far beyond my comprehension. I'm just a man. I split rails for a living."

"Then, if you won't help me, I suppose I can't help your wife," she said, eyeing him and downing her glass. Whatever fear he had of this bizarrest of nights, his greatest fear remained losing Hope.

A clear vision formed In his mind. He saw her as she lay in bed, frail and vulnerable. Her clothes had been shaken off to mitigate the heat of her fever. Her naked body glistened with her sweat. Only the twitching whites of her eyes were visible, and her mouth spoke the nonsense of delirium. Her hands groped her body, and her slender legs writhed as she toyed with her breasts. Stroking those perfect handfuls, her pink nipples jutted to attention, and her areolas bore goosebumps from arousal. Eventually, she moved from her breasts to the tuft of curls covering her innocent mound, fingers probing her insides.

All around her, vague shadows formed into humanoid shapes. With every passing second, they became more corporeal. Shadow built itself into torsos, and horrid, lecherous faces formed on their heads. Fingers of shadow curled around their hardened, fully formed cocks. Niceman could hear the rapid sounds of their unified strokes as they stalked towards his entranced wife. The dog Argus bristled and snarled at the approaching shadows, standing over Hope to protect her.

"Hope!" Niceman yelled, trying to warn her of the looming specters. She did not hear him. He remained trapped in the same room. The red woman watched him as he reacted in horror to what fate could befall his wife. As his vision ended, he looked to the naked witch, tears welling in his eyes.

"Just tell me what I have to do," he resigned.

"Watch," Delpha said, the corners of her mouth curling into a smile. Wicked though she seemed, Niceman felt he could trust her. Perhaps it was one of her wiles to manipulate him, but he realized that he had no choice. And what did she mean by 'watch'?

The doors parted, and the retinue of witches returned.

"Lady Delpha," one of them said. "Malakiel approaches. I feel his fire upon my soul. Shall we kill the Puritan to obtain his good graces?" Where she obtained it, Niceman could not say, but the naked old woman produced a knife to his throat as she spoke.

"Idiot human," Delpha spat. "Niceman Black is my guest of honor. To even suggest his harm will invoke my wrath. Make better use of yourself, hag, and begin the ritual." Without further word, the women joined hands again, encircling Niceman and Delpha. They began chanting in rapid garbles of tongues. Their words hung in the air like a ribbon of filth as they evoked the demon lord Malakiel.

Where once unphased, nervousness seemed to take hold of Delpha. Niceman felt a warmth spread at one of his thighs and realized that he had pissed himself. Brave though he was, the dissonant song of Malakiel became the most mortifying sound he had ever heard. The floor began to shake.

The witch circle screamed higher, and their bodies moved with wild thrashing motions that did not seem to be voluntary. Their necks snapped from side to side in jerks that whipped their hair about, and their bodies moved with the same abrupt motions that seemed severe enough to break their arms. Despite this, their hands never separated.

After a few moments of that odd dance, they all stood upright and rigid. Niceman watched in horror as the life appeared to ebb from them. Skin, which seconds before once bore the hues of health, now looked gray and loose. Their bodies went from appearing round and well-fed to the pointy, ribbed look of emaciation. Black smoke drifted from every set of jaws stretched so wide that they looked like the unhinged maw of a serpent devouring a mammal.

One final shake rocked the very foundations of Delpha's home. The bladed lines of the pentagram began to glow a sickly green. A loud crash sounded as the doors were flung open. A frigid breeze blew through to snuff out the candles, leaving the room to bathe in the malevolent aura of green.

In the threshold, stood the hulking, terrible form of Malakiel, Lord of the ninth realm of hell, commander of the demonic legion, and the left hand of darkness. Niceman wondered what such a powerful entity wanted with something as insignificant as his village, or his wife.

Malakiel stepped in, a cloven hoof revealed in the low light. The demon stood about nine feet tall, ducking so as to not hit his head on the doorframe as he entered. Each of his steps caused the ground to rumble. Wherever he planted his feet would warp the varnish on the wood, sprouting noxious mushrooms in his footsteps. Muscles carved from obsidian reflected the dull light of the pentagram, flexing with each of his powerful steps. Much like Father Fitzpatrick's demon, Niceman could feel Malakiel's influence and surround him. But unlike the lesser spirit, Malakiel's influence smothered the very air, forcing them to inhale his putrid musk. Scents of sulfur and brimstone replaced the perfume of Delpha's incense.The heat that emanated from him distorted the air, making it undulate. But above all of that, Malakiel sported the biggest dick Niceman had ever seen. Snaking down to the demon's knees, it bore the girth of a python and was black as the night. Veins squiggled up and down the colossal shaft, as wild and numerous as the river markings on a map.

The demon regarded the naked Delpha. A jagged-tooth smile formed on his hideous face, and his cock gave a little twitch.

"The surprises of this night become numerous and greater," he said as he peered at the luscious woman sitting before him. "Just as I've cornered the final little bastion of purity here, I find myself called away by the great cocksleeve herself: Delpha. Now, that is a call I've always hoped I'd receive." Malakiel laughed, low and horrible. "Hope can wait. Why do you call upon me, demigoddess Delpha, daughter of Aphrena?"

Delpha looked into the evil pits of Malakiel's eyes, smiling. "I heard that you came to impose your corruption on this little hamlet. I couldn't let you have all of the fun, so I figured that I would come and pay my fealty to a superior being." Malakiel's colossal manhood twitched again, pulsing into life.

"Mmmmm, you know I like when you talk like that, you nasty little skank. I've been waiting for this for far too long." he reached down, grabbing at himself to stoke the fires of his arousal. His cock grew in his hand, reaching the fullest potential of its size. It stood two feet from his body, the demonic member surging with the heat of his blood.

Tingling butterflies of arousal fluttered up Delpha's torso as she laid back. The time had come. She only hoped she was right in choosing Niceman. Malakiel's influence began to overpower her mind, letting her know just how severely the night had spent her body and spirit. She moved her hands to her tits, feeling their weight in her palms, teasing her nipples to ramp up her own desire. Between her legs, her mound bore a sheen of arousal. With one hand, she stroked her sleek, pale lips, toying with her pink folds. Her jaw dropped as Malakiel's erection reached its apex.

Malakiel emitted another baritone guffaw. Dropping to his knees, he surveyed his mortal lover. His demonic heart thudded with lust as he looked at the delicate swell of her soft body. With his hands, he explored her velvety form, kneading her breasts before wrapping his hands around her slender torso, pulling her entrance closer to him. Just interacting with her magical influence made him wild with want. Taking his cock by the base, he laid it onto her belly, grinning as his impossible length extended past her navel, almost able to slide it between her breasts. Malakiel wanted her to see how deep he would get into her.

"I'll wager of the scores of men, beasts, and spirits, you've had inside of you that you've never felt a member like this," he purred, rubbing the black cock between her breasts.

"No," she said, her voice losing its rational tone. "I've never seen a cock so fucking vast before," she groaned. Delpha found herself squirming with anticipation, with pure need for this demon's cock inside of her. His influence had corrupted her mind, sending her reeling with frenzied arousal. Seeing the wanton desperation in those scarlet irises, Malakiel felt more than compelled to give the whore what she wanted.

Sliding his cock from her torso, he had to scoot back some to direct the bulbous cockhead to her opening. Pressing it, he felt the small hole stretch as wide as it would go to accommodate him. With a smile and a cackle, he jammed the entire length of his cock into Delpha.

"GAAHHHHH FUCK!" Delpha screamed as she felt the throbbing pole invade her canal, immediately punching against her cervix, sparking her nerves with waves of pleasurable pain. Violent convulsions wracked her body as she got used to the massive flesh pole that impaled her pussy.

Never one to allow his lover a breather, Malakiel began to thrust into her. With his powerful hands, he forced her legs open, watching as those pasty jugs wobbled and bounced from his wild humps.

Niceman Black watched, appalled, but unable to take his gaze from the two of them. The demon's face contorted into a lewd jeer as he pumped into the wailing woman. One second, he would catch a glimpse at the demon's shaft, the next he saw the midnight shaft fully sheath itself in Delpha. Niceman found himself walking around to get a better view. His eyes widened as he watched the delicate pink folds swallow the inhuman shaft with a voracity he thought impossible. Malakiel was so immense and Delpha so small by comparison, yet she took every centimeter. Niceman expected to see the imprint of the demon's cock moving on the flat skin of her belly, but that wasn't the case. The demon seemed to just disappear once he entered her. What is this woman?

Whatever she was, Niceman did not care. Watching this supernatural tryst devoted the full attention of his mind. Over and over, he watched the black cock slide into her, admiring the beauty that was the contrast of their skin tones. Midnight ebony atop snowy ivory, exerting his power over her. His shear, superior dominance. And Niceman loved the ecstasy writ upon Delpha's expression as she was filled to her brim. Niceman's own inferior penis felt more rigid than it ever had. He found himself even harder than he had been the night of his wedding, after he peeled Hope's wedding gown to gaze upon her tight body. As though against his will, he reached down to undo his belt. Sliding his pants down, he freed himself and began to stroke off to the display of depravity.

Malakiel paid no attention to the bowl-haired voyeur that watched him work. All he cared was milking the demonic seeds of his balls into the womb of Delpha. He quickened his pace, hearing the wet squishes of her drooling cunt fill the room. The grip of her canal clung to him. Testicles like two crystal balls enwrapped in wrinkly leather slapped against her ample ass, emitting a rhythmic thwap thwap thwap. Taking her legs, he hooked them over each of his shoulders, positioning himself so that he could drop every inch of himself into her with his thrusts. Pistoning his cock in her, he felt the sleeve of her cunt molding itself to the shape of his cock. With a growl of pleasure, Malakiel felt his orgasm building.

Delpha's mind swam in the bliss of her own orgasm as the plethora of sensations electrified her nervous system. Her lips formed a wide 'O', and her moans sung the melody of pleasure. Reaching down, she swiped at her clit as he overwhelmed her. She sent a jet of clear ejaculate splashing onto his abs.

"That's it, Master Malakiel. Show me who owns my nympho cunt. Break my little pussy with the might of your evil." Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as the pleasure of her climax devolved into smaller aftershocks.

In her periphery, she noticed Niceman Black. The Puritan had a vice grip on his little dick, tugging away as he watched her with the glassy, fevered eyes of a pervert. Her vision was broken as Malakiel urged her to turn over. Mmmm, he's almost ready to blow, she thought. Whether it's a man, a goblin, a dragon, or a demon, he'll always turn you over when they're ready to blast.

Delpha assumed the position, laying her face into the floor and aiming her rump in the air. Arching her back, she gave him the choice of her two holes, not caring where the demon chose to shove himself. All that mattered was that he entered her and bent her to his will.

"I'm yours to use and abuse, Lord Malakiel. Take my body for nothing but the sake of your pleasure and unleash your demonic seed into my womb," she said, swaying her ass. Her bubble-shaped cheeks moved in sultry, hypnotic motions. Eager, Malakiel shoved himself into her again, and her walls enveloped him with ease. Thrusting into her, he made the supple, snow white flesh of her ass ripple like jello. His fingers sank into the cushion of her booty, and he pulled her into him as he worked against her. Before long, he started unloading heavy-handed spanks to the demigoddess' quaking rear. Every strike sounded like the crack of a bull whip, and handprints as red as her hair formed on the gigantic cheeks.

Malakiel bellowed as the impending eruption of his cock neared. Coiling that long braid around one of his massive hands, he yanked her up. Like a crimson leash, he used her hair to add more power to his movements and to show the whore what she was: breeding fodder for a demon. "Uggggghhhhhhh, that's it, take this demonic cock you divine fucking whore. I'm going to blast a lake of my seed into you. Perhaps I'll make you the glory of hell, as we pass you around. From every demon lord to the lowliest of imps, we'll let them line up and breed this limitless little cunt." Going faster than he had, Malakiel screamed as pleasure seized him. His black, membranous wings unfurled behind him. Sticking out his long, grey tongue, in a hideous scowl, Malakiel felt his balls twitch, and his cock shot off like a cannon inside of Delpha. Rope after rope was unloaded into the whore's guts, and he had to keep himself inserted for a full two minutes before he was done.

Niceman Black, warped from Malakiel's influence, watched the demon reach his orgasm. Sweat poured down his brow, and his hand was a blur of white as his lightning strokes yanked him free. The pressure of his release unleashed his own gooey streaks of melted pearl into the air. They landed on Delpha's belly, collecting into little white pools a few inches above the mound of her pubic bone. He stood crouched over her, squeezing every drop from himself as his chest heaved from exertion.

"I need," Malakiel said, too weak to even pull himself from her. He just left it inside, the ebony tower of his body swaying as though he were intoxicated. "I need to sleep," he said before dematerializing into a cloud of black smoke that drifted up to the ceiling where it collected into a storm cloud.

Her legs still spread wide, the hole of her opening looked tight, as though it didn't just get gaped by a demon. Delpha climbed to her feet, moving to unlatch a window. Malakiel, reduced to nothing but an evil mist, drifted out of the window. The winds took him and blew him to another land, far from Niceman and Delpha.

Niceman looked down at his cock, watching it deflate in his grip. Shame washed over him as his senses returned, and he quickly pulled up his pants. Here he was, jerking off while his wife suffered. The witches who had encircled the room had been reduced to identical piles ash where they had once stood. Shifting his attention to Delpha, he watched as she scraped his semen off with one of her elegant fingers. Taking a small vial, she dropped his cum into it. Bending over, she grabbed a pinch of witch's ash and sprinkled it into the vial.

"One wife cure," she said, handing it to him. Niceman looked down at the strange concoction and back to her.

"How does this work," he asked dubiously.

"What do you mean 'how does this work?'" She mocked his masculine tone. "It's magic. It'll work. Why does everyone always ask me if my magic works, as if I'm not trustworthy? No other mystical guardians have to explain how their magic works to their heroes. Their heroes take their potions and go, they're grateful. And those heros always have to do some world saving trial. All that you had to do was enjoy the show, and based on the quantity of... antidote you have there, I'm assuming it was a damn good one. Next time it's twenty silver to watch." She nudged him playfully. He just continued to stare at her with the same shell shocked expression.

"The things he made me do," Niceman moaned. "I can't believe --"

"Okay," she interrupted. "Get out, Niceman Black. I need a post-coital slumber myself. I don't have time to explain the complex magical properties of some jizz potion. Go home to your wife. Don't mention you were here -- for obvious reasons. And don't worry, none of them will say anything either." Delpha gestured outside where all the ritualists stumbled around in her front yard.

They avoided each others' gazes as they made their way back to their homes. Each of them nursed hangovers and guilty consciences. In the light of dawn, Niceman found that he recognized all of them. They were his fellow villagers. Mothers, fathers, fishermen, innkeepers, clergymen, everyone had done the dance of depravity the night of the sabbat. Niceman Black wondered if he'd ever have the strength to face them after seeing them at their most naked, stripped of the veil of courtesy and convention. That curiosity, however, had to wait. He had his own walk of shame to embark upon.

Back home, he moved to Hope. He looked down at her, all sprawled and naked. He had helped save her soul. He had no idea how, but he elected that he would take credit for the courage and bravery he displayed. Uncorking the vial, he reluctantly dribbled its gross contents into her mouth. Moments later, her eyes blinked open, opalescent and lucid. Hope was renewed.