The Devil and Angel Em

"You knew about this, didn't you?" Job growled. "Lured me into a deal while I was drunk and vulnerable, knowing I didn't have much time left. Or were you the one who gave me the tumor?"

"I didn't give you a brain tumor," Cozbi smirked. "As to whether or not I knew about it; does it really matter? You never included extended life or health in your list of requests. Your fault, not mine."

Cozbi followed Job into his house. He made no effort to stop her; not like he'd have been able to anyway.

Job collapsed onto his couch, exhausted and depressed. "So why are you here, Cozbi? To gloat? To try and collect early? I still have six months, and plenty of money to seek alternative treatments."

"Actually, I'm here to renegotiate the deal. If you're interested, of course."

Job looked up, taking her in fully for the first time since he'd arrived home.

Unlike that night at Sharkey's, Cozbi was dressed far more casually. Her long black hair was pulled back in an almost girlish ponytail. Her face bore only the barest trace of makeup.

A dark blue denim jacket hung unbuttoned over her tattered "Anarchy In The U.K." tee shirt, which Job found odd given the heat of the California summer. There were two decorative buttons pinned above each breast pocket, the kind over enthusiastic servers at popular chain restaurants would have adorning their brightly colored suspenders as "flair."

On the right was a yellow smiley face; on the left, a cartoon pig with dark glasses and a police hat, with the caption "How's Your Pork?"

Her jeans were even more faded than the jacket, snug but comfortable looking, hugging her wide hips and long, shapely legs.

On her feet were well worn cowboy boots, dusty and scuffed.

She looked more like some hitchhiker you'd find thumbing their way across the Nevada desert to Vegas than a fallen angel negotiating deals for people's souls.

"Renegotiate?" Job said warily. "You already own my soul. What else could you possibly want?"

Cozbi flashed her usual Devil may care grin as she began to undress. "I'll explain later. First, though, I could use a good fuck."

Job's jaw dropped. "You seriously expect me to fuck you? Why would I ever want to..."

"Oh, shut the fuck up and get your cock out," Cozbi snapped. Her jacket and tee-shirt were already removed, revealing her spectacularly large, perfect, braless breasts.

Then the jeans were off, leaving her in nothing but a pair of fire red panties with a cartoon Devil face just over her mound; an obvious choice for her he supposed.

Cozbi straddled his lap, his cock already rising in his jeans to push against her soaked crotch, and despite his reluctance, his arms instinctively enveloped her.

Her hands, meanwhile, we're busy undoing his button fly, freeing his already full erection in mere moments.

"I thought you didn't want to," she grinned down at him, her dark hair casting a menacing shadow over her face.

"I don't," Job snarled, even as he smacked her ass with a loud crack.

"That all you got?" Cozbi mocked him. "Come on, let it out! You know there's nothing you can dish out I can't take."

In a rage, Job pushed her off of his lap, her body tumbling to the floor.

Cozbi rolled over in a flash, lifting herself on her arms to a seated position, her legs wide, her panties soaked. "Ah! Now we're getting somewhere! Now, get down here and hate fuck me, Big Boy."

Job was over her in an instant. As he slammed her to the floor, he knew deep down that she was letting him overpower her. He didn't care.

He let go of her arms long enough to rip the panties off of her with a yank so hard, a natural woman would have screamed in agony.

Cozbi just laughed, enraging him still more. Again he grabbed her arms and pinned her down, and without preamble, shoved his cock balls deep into her with a single thrust.

Her eyes bulged widely, her cries ringing in his ears as he pounded away at her fiery cunt. He'd fucked countless women over the past year; none of them even close to being this tight. Or this HOT. Her canal was a lava filled vise.

Her breasts bounced wildly beneath him, cleavage already soaked with sweat. "Harder! Harder, you fucking prick! I gave you size, strength, stamina! Fucking use it! Pound that pussy! I wanna feel every..."

Her words ceased as her vaginal walls constricted even tighter around his shaft. Cozbi began to howl, her cries echoing like a banshee as her ejaculate gushed, forcing its way out in a spray, soaking both Job and the carpet.

Still, he continued to pound her, holding back his orgasm, wanting her to beg him to stop.

Instead, she goaded him on. "Oh, yes, that's it! Fuck me like a whore! Like your cheap porn star sluts! Goddamn, I do good work! Fuck me with that big cock! I wanna feel it swell up and explode in me! Cum in me! Do it! Do it now!"

Job had been close to orgasm from the start, but of course had been holding back. If she wanted to be treated like a whore, that's what he'd do. Letting go of her, he pulled himself out, then quickly moved over her, straddling her chest.

It was the first time Job had seen her confused. Understanding and anger lit her eyes just in time for his first blast of cum to splatter across her face with a wet smack. The second wave coated her tits, mixing with the sweat dripping down her cleavage.

"You fucker!" Any further words were cut off as he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head up, just in time for his third volley to scatter across her dark locks like thick, white raindrops.

Job had one final spurt left. He placed the tip of his swollen glans against her lips and squirted it into her open mouth.

Cozbi spat it back at him angrily. "You asshole! I wanted you to cum IN me, not ON me!"

"You want me to cum IN you? I can arrange that!"

Still gripping her hair, Job dragged her roughly from the floor and bent her over the couch.

She managed to twist her head around to glare at him just as he positioned the tip of his still cream covered cock against her puckered anus. Job angrily spat on her asshole several times before pushing into her.

"Oh, it's like that, huh? What, you don't think I don't like it up the... AAAAAHHHH!"

Cozbi screeched like a wild animal caught in a spring trap. Her body writhed against him, and he could no longer tell if she was struggling to break free or pushing to take him still deeper.

Either way, he didn't much care. Job jackhammered her ass relentlessly, reveling in the pain he was both causing and receiving. His cock was irritated, raw, sore, yet still he kept going, unable to distinguish their mutual noises as either pain or pleasure.

Desperate to silence her, his hands found her throat. Her screams became gasps as he squeezed, far harder than any normal human should have been able to withstand.

Her voice went silent, air no longer able to escape her restricted windpipe, her face now an ugly shade of purple.

Still, Job clutched her throat harder, putting all his rage and fear into one final clench before releasing another hot load of spunk deep into her bowels.

He could have kept going; his cock was still diamond hard.

But he'd released his anger along with his load, and his body was now a quivering, exhausted mess.

Releasing his grip, Job pulled himself from her with a messy plop and collapsed to the floor.

Cozbi fell beside him, drenched in sweat and reeking of sex, spunk and ass.

Her voice was a harsh whisper. "I haven't been fucked like that since the Dark Ages."

Job had to laugh. "You know, all the books and artwork portray you as a man. I'd have never guessed you were a woman."

Cozbi scoffed. "Even your myths and legends are gender biased. I can of course appear as I wish to anyone. But would you have even approached me if I'd walked into the bar as a male?"

"Definitely not."

Cozbi sat up, rubbing her neck. Job watched as the purple bruises he'd left on her throat faded away.

Noticing his expression, she laughed. "What? You didn't think you could actually hurt me, did you?"

Job shrugged. "No. Not really. It's why I squeezed so hard. I knew I couldn't kill you from it."

Cozbi nodded. "You're not the first to try. It was a good effort though, I'll grant you that."

Cozbi stood, and for a moment Job saw the angel she used to be. Naked, sweaty, covered in his spunk, hair disheveled, mascara smeared, olive skin smooth and unflawed except for a single, jagged scar just above her pubic mound.

She was still the most beautiful, erotic thing he'd ever seen. Even after a year of fucking the hottest porn stars in the business.

Cozbi grinned down at him. His cock had once again sprung back to life. "Down, boy. I've had my fun. You need to get off again, that's all you. I'm using your shower. Then we have business to discuss."

Her spectacular ass receded from view as she made her way upstairs to his bathroom.

Job whiled away the time waiting by jerking his raw, aching cock to yet another orgasm, wondering what she had in store for him.

Part II: The Angel

"Why are we here?"

Mother Mary's House Of Hope was a large, three story brick building that sat on the corner of the street they'd parked on just across from it.

Located in a more run down section of the city, most of the surrounding buildings looked abandoned, many boarded up.

While the street was currently empty, Job worried about being there after sundown.

Cozbi sat beside him in the passenger seat, looking out the window. "Just wait, she should be along any.... Ah! There she is."

As the young woman rounded the corner and approached the entrance to Mother Mary's, Job's heart skipped a beat.

The first thing he noticed was the black and white veil she wore on her head, immediately identifying her as a nun.

But she was unlike any nun he had ever seen before.

She appeared young, early to mid-twenties at a guess. Her clothing was simple; a modest white blouse and long, black skirt.

She was short, yet well proportioned for her height; slim and petite. Even from across the street, her fresh young face looked bright and cheerful.

And immensely beautiful. If Cozbi was the Devil, this most certainly was an Angel.

"That's Sister Emily," Cozbi explained. "Like her?"

Job had seen many attractive women over the years, in various forms of apparel. And yet he couldn't tear his eyes away from this modestly dressed young woman as she took the stairs to the door with a light bounce in her step and entered the building.

"I take your silence as a yes," Cozbi continued. "Good. Your task is simple: Seduce her, take her virginity, and I'll not only let you keep your soul, I'll cure your brain tumor."

Job finally found his voice as he whipped around to glare at her. "You want me to seduce a NUN? But why???"

Cozbi looked smug. "A soul like yours is small potatoes; what I truly feast on is the souls of the corrupted innocent. And Sister Emily will be quite the meal."

"And if I refuse?"

Cozbi shrugged. "Then you die in six months, I get your soul, and I reconsider whether or not I spare you from the fire and brimstone."

"But...but you said..."

"I say lots of things," Cozbi scoffed. "What? No one told you I'm a liar?"

"If you're a liar, then how do I know you're telling the truth about curing me?"

"You don't. But what other options do you have?"

Job sat, shaking with both anger and fear. Anger at Cozbi's deception and betrayal, fear at just how much worse this could get for him if he refused her.

And fear of the consequences from above if he actually went through with it.

"If... if I do this, and I get to keep my soul, wouldn't God still punish me anyway for corrupting her?"

Cozbi shrugged. "Maybe. But that's not my problem. Look, if it helps: I don't ALWAYS lie. And I can't lie about the soul thing. Part of the arrangement. If you do this for me, you absolutely get to keep it.

"From there, you'll at least get your chance to plead your case with God when you die. You'll probably just get sentenced to Limbo for a few millennia. But if you refuse, well... do you REALLY want to spend eternity with me after pissing me off?"

"No. I suppose not. But how the hell am I supposed to seduce a nun?"

Cozbi offered that oh so wicked grin. "It won't be as hard as you think. Sister Emily isn't as 'pure' as she looks. It would only take a nudge to push her over the edge of depravity. A nudge from you."

"So when do I do this?"

"No time like the present, Job. Tick tock. That tumor isn't getting any smaller, ya know."

With a resigned sigh, Job got out of his car and made his way slowly across the street.

He paused at the entrance, turning back to look for Cozbi. She was, of course, gone.

His hand trembling, Job reached for the door and stepped inside.

The lobby was bigger than he expected, and cleaner.

A nun, much older and larger than the lovely young woman he'd watched enter this place moments before, greeted him from the reception desk. "May I help you?"

Job cleared his throat nervously. "I'm, um, here to see Sister Emily."

The nun eyed him warily. "She's in her office. May I ask the purpose of your visit?"

"I, um, I'm here to... I wanted to make a donation to the shelter. I was told she would be the one to speak to."

Job had no clue what he was doing. He was making shit up on the fly, with no idea whether this woman would buy it.

From the frown she offered, it certainly didn't appear so. "Well, while we appreciate your generosity, contributions are usually handled by..."

Her speech was halted as Sister Emily came down the hall, carrying a stack of paperwork. "Sister Agnes, I've finished the inventory on the pantry supplies and I was wondering if you could..."

Sister Emily froze in her tracks when she spotted Job. Her eyes went wide with shock, fear and... was that recognition?

The papers she'd been holding fell, scattering across the floor.

For a moment, she looked as if she would run. Then, taking a deep breath, she composed herself. "Oh! I'm so sorry! You startled me. I wasn't expecting anyone else to be here. I feel so foolish!"

She bent to collect her papers. Job moved to assist. "Please, let me help. It's the least I can do for scaring you."

The tension between them was palpable as he handed her the papers he'd collected.

It was Sister Agnes who broke the silence. "This gentleman says he's here to see you. Something about a donation?"

Sister Emily tore her gaze from him. "What? Oh. Oh yes, of course. Our appointment. I'm sorry, Sister Agnes, I forgot to mention it to you."

Turning back to Job, her large, oval eyes implored him to play along despite his obvious confusion. "If you'll follow me, please, my office is right down the hall. We can discuss things there."

"What the hell is going on here?" Job thought. He'd made no such appointment, of course. Still, he followed her lead, her slender legs generating a quick pace as they moved down the hall and into her office.

To his surprise, she locked the door behind her.

"We can't stay in here long," her voice was low, intense, "Sister Agnes is already suspicious, and I'm not supposed to be alone in a room with a man. So let's not waste any time. Now, how do you know me, and why are you here?"

Job was completely flummoxed. This wasn't how he'd expected things to go at all. "I... I'm looking to make a donation to your shelter here. I was told you're in charge, and I wanted to meet..."

"Bullshit," she sneered. Her use of profanity was yet another on her list of surprises for him. "If you'd have called someone here to ask, I'd have found out about it. So let's start again, Mr. Beefslab. Yes, I know who you are. Now tell me why you're REALLY here."

Job cringed, both at her calling him out on his rather pathetic attempt at deception, and at her use of his "professional" name. Outside of the business, it really did sound rather stupid.

"How do you know...?"

"It doesn't matter right now." Sister Emily seemed suddenly embarrassed. "What matters is why are you here, and why did you ask for me specifically?"

"It's... it's a rather long story. And a, well, a very strange one. I don't think you'd believe me."

"You'd be surprised what I'd believe right now. Why don't you just..."

A knock at the door cut her off. "Sister Emily?" Sister Agnes called, "Is everything okay in there?"

"Fine," Sister Emily responded, "we're just finishing up."

She whirled on Job, her voice a harsh whisper. "We can't do this now. Meet me back here tonight, ten o'clock. Everyone else will be gone. We need to talk."

Without waiting for a reply, she unlocked the door and ushered him out of the room. Sister Agnes was still standing in the hall, looking quite perturbed.

"Thank you for your generous donation offer," Sister Emily called after him, "we'll discuss it in greater depth soon."

Job made his way, as casually yet quickly as he could, to the exit.

"What the hell just happened? And what have I gotten myself into?"

Emily almost slammed the door behind her, ignoring the concerned glare of Sister Agnes completely.

When she was sure Agnes had left and she would not be disturbed, she sank to her trembling knees, her entire body a live wire of nervous energy.

Her hands were clammy, her brow covered in a sheen of cold sweat.

Her panties were a hot, soaked mess.

Emily raised her eyes heavenward. "Is this a test, Lord? I need to be sure. If you really can hear me, I beg you; tell me what to do."

Silence answered her.

Eyes closed, Emily bowed her head.

"Thy will be done, Lord."

Part III: The Sacrifice

"Hurry, get inside."

Sister Emily quickly closed and locked the door behind them.

Wordlessly she directed Job to follow her. The place was quiet, empty, yet her gaze shifted nervously from side to side as she led him down a series of dark hallways, as if she expected someone to jump out from around each corner.

At the end of the final hall was a door. A small, wooden sign above marked it simply as "Chapel."

Again she locked the door behind her. "Sit."

The Chapel was small, with only a few wooden pews. Job took a seat at one, while Sister Emily instead moved to the altar at the front of the room.

Producing a lighter, she lit the prayer candles atop the altar, then, bowing her head, silently performed the sign of the cross.

She turned to face him. They contemplated each other in silence for several moments as he took in her breathtaking beauty.

The few strands of blonde hair that had escaped the veil she wore hung over her oval face. Her skin glowed with a natural radiance, free of makeup or lipstick.

A scattering of adorable freckles adorned her tapered nose and cheekbones. Her pale blue eyes twinkled in the soft light.

Her narrow pink lips offered a crooked smile. "So, which of us should go first?"

Job shook his head to break the spell. "Looks like we both have a story to share. I think I should probably start."

Sister Emily remained by the altar, in rapt attention as Job told his tale. She appeared neither shocked nor offended, even as he embarrassingly described his rather pathetic, self serving requests in exchange for his eternal soul.

Job went on to tell her how he'd gotten into the Adult Film industry, (he couldn't bring himself to use the word "porn" in front of her,) and his recent discovery of the brain tumor that would soon claim his life.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he finished. Job paused in his story to wipe them away. "You probably think I'm nuts."

Sister Emily moved to sit beside him. She took his hand. "No, I believe you. And I'm sorry to hear this. I truly am. Now, tell me; what does all of this have to do with me?"