The Pact Ch. 01

Lisa notices the adventuring party rising from their chairs and sweeps over to collect the small pile of weird coins they'd left on the table. The elf and the walking arsenal drag the inert body of their wizard while the dwarf cleric shakes his head disapprovingly and mutters, "Lightweight."

She sidles up to the warrior with a big smile and asks, "Hey, big guy, need a bed-warmer?"

He chuckles and replies, "Already got one," and pats the unconscious spellcaster's back.

The elf smirks and comments, "You two are adorable. How about you carry him yourself, lover-boy." With that, he lets go and flies up the stairs, barely touching the ground as he calls back, "Dibs on the single!"

"Fucker," mutters the warrior as he tries to reposition himself before the cleric takes pity on him and lends a hand.

Lisa watches them ascend and biters her lip. "Bugger," she mutters under her breath. Her little stash is smaller than she hoped it would be by now, even with the tip, and she honestly wouldn't have minded the ride, if the bulk of his armor reflected what was beneath. She turns back to the table, cleaning up their mess, until she notices something left behind where the wizard had been sitting -- an ivory tube with arcane markings hangs from his chair by a simple leather strap.

"Huh," she says to herself, carefully removing it and slipping it under her skirt, discreetly checking to make sure she is not seen. She finishes up her work, shoo's out the last of the locals, and settles up with the owner, Bill, before climbing the stairs the three floors to her room in the attic. She lets out a long sigh once the door is closed behind her and then sits on her bed and pulls out her slate and cash box. She is happy to have her own room, even if it isn't much bigger than a closet and the sloped room made half of it useless for anything but sleeping.

A few minutes of scratching with chalk on the slate confirm her earlier despair. She isn't even a quarter of the way to her goal. Tossing the slate onto the end of her bed, she pushes the box back into its hidey hole with her foot and falls backwards onto the bed, clunking her head on the sloping ceiling on the way.

"Fuck, ow," she says pitifully, then remembers her find. A moment of rummaging under her skirts produces the tube and she momentarily wonders if it would serve as a fair supplement for a gay warrior before popping the end cap off and sliding out the scroll within. The light in the shadow of her bed proves insufficient for examination so she hauls her tired body back to a sitting position and scoots a little closer to the oil lamp.

"Whaaaat the hell is this?" she says to herself, trying to make out the infuriatingly arcane font of whatever sorcerous douchebag penned the thing. What prompted her comment though, wasn't the words as much as the pictures and diagrams, which depict in excruciating detail a well-endowed male devil standing in a summoning circle with a prostrate naked woman on the ground before him. "Kinky shit," she mutters, then begins to make headway with the script.

"Well, looky here," she says and grins, leaning into the lamp to get better light. She reads the entirety of the scroll three times to make sure she's got it right -- a ritual for entering into a pact with an infernal creature. Everything needed to summon and bind a devil to negotiate for arcane power. "This," she says, flopping back on the bed once again, "This, is my ticket out of here."

Lisa doesn't feel at all guilty about stealing the scroll since the ritual specified this particular devil was only interested in entering into bargains with females. When the adventurers leave the next morning, they don't even look for it or ask after it. Of course, they may be distracted by the constant whining of the hungover wizard. The dwarf seems to take inordinate pleasure in noting that he could fix it but feels that it builds character.

"Fuck you and your character, Karl," the wizard spits as he stumbled through the door and then shrieks at first exposure to full sunlight. His boyfriend gently puts his great metal helmet over the miserable spell-caster's head.

"Thanks," comes his muffled response.

Lisa spends every free moment she can get for the rest of the day gathering up all the weird shit the ritual requires. Despite her excitement at finding a shortcut to vast arcane power, she worries a bit that she'll spend the rest of her life shoving toads up her twat and snorting bat guano. Hopefully, she thinks, direct investment from dark creatures will let her have a little more dignity than she's observed in the more traditional practitioners of the arcane arts.

When the day's work is done, instead of going up to her room, she tells Bill she's going to putter around the kitchen and slips out the back door. Snagging a hooded lantern she's stashed behind the woodpile with the rest of her occult paraphernalia, she heads off into the dark woods behind the inn. She's not without trepidation. The forest isn't a safe place in the daytime, much less at night, despite the assurances of her best friend, Steve. Elves have a weird relationship with nature, so he doesn't think of hungry wolves or territorial bears as mortal dangers as much as testy neighbors. Thus, his opinion on the matter wasn't very reassuring.

She doesn't have to go very far, though. The clearing she was heading towards was convenient and reasonably safe, which is why it was frequented during the day by horny adolescents. Rural life didn't afford much privacy, so if you wanted to get it on with the hot milkmaid, you either risked discovery in a barn or took to the woods. She knew from experience that bears were preferable to gossip and public shaming, even with her sideline in casual prostitution (which, honestly, Bill was happy to ignore if he got his cut).

On arrival, she clears out a wide space of discarded clay jugs smelling of the local hooch and lost undergarments, and begins to set up the ritual in the dim flickering light. The noises of the forest make her jumpy but she resists the urge to rush, knowing that, as in baking, precision was essential to wizardry. At last, she stands over her work and nods to herself.

"Not half bad," she mutters, and starts to undress. She is a bit sarcastic about the nudity requirement, half suspecting that it was something the author put in for his or her own titallation, but was still unwilling to deviate just in case it actually mattered. She notes the state of her nipples and wishes the night weren't quite so chill.

"Let's do this," she says and begins to speak the incantation, which she's been repeating in her head all day. The words feel weird on her tongue and saying them out loud feels vaguely ridiculous. The nudity doesn't help, either. However, the silliness fades as her efforts get results. First, the circle emits a dim red light and wisps of smoke start to rise from its interior. Second, there is a whining sound, like hot metal immersed in cold water. Lastly, Lisa begins to feel warm, like the air is heated from early fall to mid-summer and then on to where it feels like she's in front of a bonfire.

She intones the final words while prostrating herself like in the picture, "I summon thee, Barry, Prince of Hell!"

There is a crack of lightning and a peel of thunder and the interior of the circle erupts into blue flames in which appears the shadowy form of a devil. As the fire dies down, she is able to get a good look at him as she stands. He's incredibly handsome, despite being red with horns and a tail. He's also just as naked as she is, which makes her feel a little less awkward despite his raging erection. He raises his clawed hands to the sky and throws back his head and laughs.

"Yes! It is I! Barry of the Lower Depths! Lord of the Pits of Lust! My appetites are legendary throughout the mutliverse --" he bellows, lowering his eyes to gaze upon her nakedness.

"Actually," she interrupts, "Could we just get to business? I have to work in the morning."

"What?" he says, sounding deflated. "Seriously?"

She nods.

"Alright," he says, shrugging, "You're looking for the usual pact?"

For a moment, the surreality of having a contract negotiation in the woods in the middle of the night, naked, strikes her, but she manages to reply, "Yeah... well, if the terms are right. The scroll was a little light on details."

"Well," he says, looking around the clearing and poking at the ground with his cloven hooves, "The terms are negotiable." He grins and not in a pleasant way. I occurs to her she didn't really notice the goat legs before but decided they didn't really detract from her initial assessment of his attractiveness, which makes her wonder at her own predilections. "Soooo..." he prompts.

"Sorry, I was distracted," she replies, blushing.

"I know, right?" he says with a huge grin, gesturing to his cock with both hands.

She frowns and stammers, "No... not... nevermind. Yeah, I want to get some damned power. Sorcery, demonic investment, whatever you got."

"And in return, you will give me access to your soft, virginal flesh?" he asks with a lecherous grin.

""'Virginal'? Think again, buddy, I work in an inn," she smirks, then frowns and puts her hands on her hips. "Wait, so I get magic but you get to just pop by and rape me whenever you want?"

He looks appalled and replies, "What? No. Gods, what sort of contracts are you used to? It's a pact. You can say no, I just withdraw the power I gave you if you do. Same as if I drop the ball, you get to cut me off."

"Half-demon babies," she asks, squinting suspiciously.

"No," he shakes his head, "That isn't a thing. We can't breed with humans."

"What about cambions?" she asks.

"Just warlocks trying to sound cool," he admits.

"No shit," she says. She looks thoughtful, then shakes her head and demands, "Wait, you give me all kinds of magic and all you want is to have sex with me?"

"Be my consort! Yes!" he replies with another huge grin. For a moment, he reminds her of the first guy she ever had sex with, a big goofy stable boy who was just way too happy to finally see unclothed boobs. It made it a little hard to take him seriously as a demonic lord.

"Why?" she asked, skeptically.

He shrugs and says, "I like human girls."

She is well aware that the binding ritual makes him incapable of lying to her but still gives him a blisteringly sarcastic look.

"Have you seen what most demons look like?" he replies and shudders dramatically.

"That's fair," she admits. Suddenly feeling awkward, she looks at the ground and says, "So... how do we do this? Do you write everything out and I sign it in blood?" She glances back up at him.

He shakes his head and says, "No, with the binding ritual, it is all just agreed upon verbally and then we seal it with..." and he gestures again at his cock with a rakish grin.

She rolls her eyes. "How did I not guess?" she mutters. She squints at him and says, "You know, you are kind of an asshole."

He shrugs and says, "I'm a devil. But, more specifically, I'm in incubus, which means I'm a preternaturally good lover." He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, which elicits another eye roll from Lisa.

"Fine," she says, "But I want more specifics than 'magical power'."

He quirks a brow and asks, "You've done this before?"

"No," she replies patiently, "I'm just not an idiot."

He smirks and says, "I like you. Alright, every month, on the new moon, I will visit your dreams and teach you a new spell. In addition," -- he raises a finger -- "You will receive demonic investments which are an extension of my own abilities."

"That still seems a little vague," she muses.

He shrugs and says, "Take it or leave it. You can always break the pact."

She's wary. Really wary. But she's not getting anywhere blowing adventurers at the inn for ancient dwarven coins. "Fine," she says, squaring her shoulders and looking him in the eyes. "Barry, let's fuck."

He claps his hands and says, "Excellent!" He gestures to the circle and prompts, "If you please."

She reaches out with her big toe and smugs the edge of the summoning circle and there is a shock that makes her yelp and an unpleasant whiff of brimstone. Without even noticing him move, suddenly he's holding her in his arms, face buried in her hair, murmuring, "Oh, you smell so nice."

Taken aback, she pushes him off. "Whoa there, Barry, slow down," she says.

He replies, sarcastically, "I thought you had work in the morning?"

She glares at him and makes her way to a carefully cultivated bed of moss fed by the amorous excretions of a hundred horny teenagers. She lies down and spreads her legs, looks over at him and says, "Alright, let's get this over with."

He looks crestfallen and says, "That's not very romantic."

"Take me, big boy! Ravish me with your beautiful cock!" she says, sarcastically.

"Now you're just being mean," he chides, then gets a wicked grin and says, "Very well." He's on her in an instant, but not with his cock, with his mouth.

She yelps and arches her back, suddenly struck mute with intense pleasure. His tongue proves to fit the stereotype of a devil, long and forked, and he knows how to use it well. She nearly brains herself on the nearby oak tree as she thrashes under his ministrations.

"Fuck, Barry," she whines between pants, "I take it back. I'm sorry. You were right. You are awesome." He gives her a thumbs up without stopping what he's doing. She loses consciousness a couple times and comes around to find the devil just waiting idly with a maddeningly self-satisfied grin for her to recover. Finally, she has to beg him to fuck her.

"For fucks sake, you horny bastard, just get it in there! I don't have all night!" she screams, slapping at his horned head until he relents. He climbs on top of her and she realizes now that he has a somewhat animal musk which she's pretty sure she wouldn't find pleasant if she wasn't in the throes of multiple orgasms. Rather than self-satisfied, Barry looks intent as he lines himself up and begins to enter her. It is at this point that she remembers how big he is.

"Okay, not too fast," she pleads, but he proceeds with a steady pace that proves to be perfect. She closes her eyes and revels in the satisfaction of being filled, realizing how much she regretted that armored doofus not being keen on the ladies.

She hears him hiss, "Yes," in her ear and opens her eyes to see him towering over her, back arched, and the resemblance to the goofy stable boy is gone. All of her certainly disappears as he begins to fuck her hard. It feels great but she knows she's made a terrible mistake. He is strong and powerful and hot, her skin reddening where they touch, his cock inside her like a hot iron. She whimpers and he smiles, showing his pointed teeth and forked tongue.

She closes her eyes as a panicked orgasm washes over her. Then she laughs. "Fuck it," she says, startling him, then wraps her legs around his waist and urges him on, thrusting up against him. He laughs in return, a deep sound, and they couple madly until his whole body quakes and she feels a heat inside her like a furnace as he comes.

"Yes!" he cackles, "You are mine, fuck-slave!"

She pulls back and punches him hard in the face and he falls back, pulling out of her with a spray of hot fluid. He bellows, "What the hell?" as she braces herself and then drives her foot into his balls. He goes down like a ton of bricks.

She stands up then nearly falls down as her wobbly legs betray her. She grabs onto the nearby oak tree and looks down at him and says sternly, "No. Not what we agreed to, asshole. We can have sexy fun time, but I am not your toy. We are partners, get it?" For good measure, she kicks him again in the stomach.

He groans and then laughs, painfully. "Fair enough," he sputters. He peers up at her from where he's curled in a fetal position, and grins, saying, "If I'm good, can I fuck you in the ass?" and she feels his tail prodding at her backside. She yelps, tries to jump to the side, and ends up falling over onto her back.

"Asshole," she says, staring up at the night sky through the tree branches.

"Devil," he replies. Then, in a poof of brimstone-scented smoke, he is gone.

As she lay there, contemplating how thoroughly she may have just fucked up her life, she becomes aware that the heat of his infernal semen is both becoming less uncomfortable and that its warmth is spreading through her body and out her limbs.

"This can't be good," she mutters awkwardly and then realizes that her tongue feels different. She sticks her fingers in her mouth and is startled to discover her tongue is now forked. Removing her fingers, she sticks it out and is alarmed to see it is also now twice as long. "Shiiiit," she says sibilantly.

"Was that wise?" says a voice from above her. She turns her head a little and sees a cloaked figure perched in the branches of the oak tree.

"Oy! You some sort of fucking pervert, spying on me?" she demands, getting to her feet.

"As someone who just made a literal deal with a devil, you are hardly in a position to cast moral aspersions," he says, climbing down from his perch. In the light of the lantern, she recognizes the unattractive orcish countenance of one of the local woodsmen. She stares at him in silence for a moment and he sighs deeply and adds, "What, just because I'm half-orc and a forester, I'm supposed to be monosyllabic?"

"Um, no?" she replies, guiltily, though her pause was actually because she realized she didn't know his name, rather than commentary on his choice of words. "What are you doing here?" she demands once the awkward moment has passed.

He says, "Your vigorous coupling was rather loud. I investigated to make sure everything was alright. I was about to put an arrow into the demonic being I assumed was raping you, but then you... enthusiastically encouraged him, so I was put in the awkward position of waiting to make sure my assessment was accurate."

"See, this is why people come to fuck here rather than in their comfortable beds! So they don't have to answer these sorts of questions!" she retorts, poking him in the chest with her finger.

"I didn't ask any questions," he notes.

She just narrows her eyes at him and starts to dress, figuring clothes will make it easier to take the high ground. She does note that he doesn't afford her any modesty, watching her dress with a sort of maddeningly calm detachment. This just makes things more awkward, so she asks, "What's your name?" That's two bits of awkwardness out of the way, she thinks proudly, trying to ignore the demon spunk dripping down her thighs.

He cleared his throat a little, then replies, "Bubba."

She suddenly stops dressing and just stares at him. "Your name is Bubba?" she asks, incredulously.

He replies through gritted teeth, "It was my grandfather's name."

"On which side?" she asks while picking up the lantern.

He glares at her and she's suddenly pleased with herself for piercing his eerie calm. It occurs to her that she may also be a bit of an asshole, so she murmurs, "Sorry."

He takes a deep breath and sighs. He says, "It isn't safe out here at night. Let me walk you back to the village."

She nods and gestures into the woods. "Lead the way," she says.

He walks in the opposite direction she indicated and it takes her a moment to realize he's right and she'd gotten all turned around, which just made her pissed off at him for being right. She follows in grumpy silence for a bit before getting distracted playing with her new tongue. Then she gets distracted looking at Bubba's ass. Then she realizes that she was really, really horny.

"Fuck," she muttered, "What the hell did I get myself into?"

"Yes," he says over his shoulder. She can't see it but she can hear the smirk and she glares at his back for the rest of the walk, trying to ignore his fine, fine ass.