11 comments/ 44608 views/ 13 favorites A Devil of a Party By: bbonz1 (A Halloween Contest Story) Dear Reader: First, this story is very graphic. Much of the sex is rough and described in detail. If this isn't your cup of tea, please read no further. Second, if you continue, please post your vote for the Halloween contest. And if you can't vote, then comment. And if you can't comment, then favorite. And if you can't favorite, then just enjoy! * * * It started, as these things often do, as a stray comment in a not-so innocent conversation. It took root in a fertile imagination, back in the dark recesses of a human mind, where evil impulses often grow. It sent its tendrils into the light, most withering under the heat of good conscience and moral fortitude. But some survived, the stronger branches, to find a home in the place where ideas take shape, where risk and reward are measured, and where the balance between the two can sometimes, under the right conditions, be tilted towards one or the other. * * * "Turn on the light!" he cried out as he scrambled back into place behind her, positioning the head of his cock just outside her meaty lips, scored with red marks where he'd twisted the sensitive flesh. He blinked as the lights came on, and then knew that the eyes beyond the fabric could see everything, would witness as he deflowered this maiden and made her part of Satan's own stable of sex sluts. With a cry of elation he crammed his cock into her cunt, the wet walls opening to accept him. He grasped her hips violently, his claws marking her flesh and began fucking her so hard her breasts beat a spastic tattoo as they slapped wildly together... Tom Sorenson woke with a start, grasping the sheets in his hands. His cock throbbed beneath the sheets, his erection almost painful in its insistence to be relieved. The dream had been so real, so incredible, that he knew he had to write it down. And make it happen. But first. He looked over at his wife, topless as usual, asleep beside him. She awoke at his touch and, seeing his erection in the dim moonlight, knew exactly what he wanted. Well, almost... "Let's have a Halloween haunted house," Tom Sorenson declared a little later, at what could only be considered the most inopportune time ever. "My mrownt mryke mowllowwen mlarts," his wife Sarah replied, her voice muffled. Understandably so, as her mouth was currently filled with Tom's hard cock, which she was endeavoring to swallow whole, or so it seemed to Tom as the head of his cock scraped along the back of her throat. In fact, it was amazing that she'd been able to reply at all, given how much of his dick occupied her mouth. Still, eight years of marriage had taught him a thing or two, and translating cock mouth was one of them. "I know you don't like Halloween parties. But I was thinking this one could be different. A haunted house. An adult one. With adult activities. We could do some pretty kinky things," he added, knowing that she was feeling pretty kinky at the moment. "Mwont maft mwowr mrroufs," she replied, shifting her position so that her heavy breasts brushed along the tops of his legs. He looked past her head, along the smooth slope of her back and fixed on the rounded globes of her butt. He'd fuck her doggystyle tonight, he decided, already imagining the feel of her soft ass cheeks in his hands. And maybe spank her a little, softly, so as not to wake the children. Just enough to get her motor really running. "Nah, not at our house. I was thinking at Phil's. He's always up for something different. And I bet he knows the right people around town to invite." Phil would make it special, of that Tom was sure. And memorable. That was a Phil trademark. Sarah mumbled something that might have been agreement, or might just have been the wet smacking sound of her lips skimming along the length of his shaft. He was about to ask her to repeat her answer when she turned her attention to his sensitive cock head, rasping the flat of her tongue across the sensitive mushroom cap, and causing the familiarly electric sparks of pleasure to crackle down his shaft, burst through his groin and travel down his legs, causing his toes to literally curl in response. Then all further thoughts of entertaining were lost from his over-stimulated brain. * * * Phil Diamond made his living as a producer. His neighbors called him a Hollywood producer, which he allowed, because it was technically true. He did produce Hollywood films. Some were even rated mildly enough to be viewed in the nation's cinema multiplexes. But most were not. His neighbors also thought that being a producer was a glamorous profession. He didn't disavow that perception either. But while they imagined high level calls with A-list celebrities and high-powered agents, in truth producing proved much more mundane. A producer got things done. Most often, that meant getting on the phone and convincing other people that what you needed was more important that what they'd planned to do that particular moment. Sometimes it meant getting a truck of chairs from one place to another on time. Or arranging for a car to be available to be blown up. Or suggesting that a city planner look the other way while a key scene was filmed in a public park. A producer was a planner, a gopher, a fixer. A producer was the one you turned to when all seemed to impossible and impassible, but things still needed to be moving forward. Phil got things done. To get things done, you needed to know what motivated people. What would make a delivery man give up lunch to get a package from A to B, right this minute. Phil knew what people wanted. He knew what motivated them. He always seemed to know that Mr. Package Delivery Guy was an aspiring screenwriter who just wanted someone to look at his script. And he always knew a director's assistant who would look at said script in exchange for an introduction to an up-and-coming new director. Who wanted to fuck an A-list star. Who wanted to get back the Oscar she sold to her PA in a fit of pique. Who wanted... Well, it went on and on. And Phil knew what they all wanted. He knew their heartfelt and secret desires. He got them what they wanted and got things done. He was good at it. He was, as some of his peers would whisper during cocktail parties, spooky good. Nobody knew as much as Phil. And, some said, nobody could. One thing Phil didn't do, which all the rest of the producers did, was take meetings. Or grab lunch at the latest hot Hollywood eatery. He didn't do it because he liked to work behind the scenes. He also didn't do it because he lived about eighteen hundred miles from Hollywood. More or less specifically, he lived in the Midwest. He lived in a subdivision not unlike most others, a bit outside a metropolitan area, with winding streets named for geographic landmarks that had long been paved over: Red Oak, Fox Run, Cypress and the ever popular Rippling Creek. His house, though, was a bit different than the others. Larger, for a million dollars bought a lot more floor space here than in Orange County. And set apart from the rest, at the end of a cul-de-sac on which he'd bought all the other property, so that it really just served as an extra long driveway to his home. He'd bought the home not just because of its distance from the Hollywood hills, as he could've gotten that most anywhere. But because of the view outside the rear of the house, backing up as it did on a strong, swirling river, and beyond that a deep and dark forest, the kind that repelled even the most intrepidly adventurous child, tangled as it was with brambles and thorn bushes and poison ivy. It suited his mood. And sometimes, his purpose. Phil gazed back at the river, awaiting the phone call he'd been warned would arrive soon. A haunted house. Yes. And what better place to hold it than Phil's house? He lived alone. By himself in a home with six bedrooms. Separated enough, and hidden by the trees, to keep nosy neighbors away. Yet big enough to host a crew of haunters plus a good number of guests. The idea intrigued him. He was Phil, the producer, the guy who got things done. And he hadn't fed, really fed, in a long time. * * * Tom was confused. He'd jotted down his ideas that morning, waking up with surprising energy for a man who had spent an hour of the previous night fucking Sarah with reckless abandon. So violently had he taken her that he'd spewed his jizz bomb along the length of her body, splattering her stomach, tits and face with molten jets of sperm. And then, after she'd licked the remaining juices and cum from his deflating member, he'd told her to rub his cum into her skin, instead of letting her clean herself. It wasn't like him to be so domineering, but she'd played the good sport because he didn't act that way very often. Plus, he suspected she liked playing the victim role every so often. When he'd shown his ideas to Sarah, she'd responded with a comment that they were clearly "the perverted wet dreams of a juvenile mind." When he'd objected to that description, she'd retracted her statement and re-submitted it as "the perverted wet dreams of an adolescent mind." He hadn't felt vindicated. Though, to be fair, she'd just finished washing the remainder of his spunk from her body. So maybe she wasn't the best source for critical judgment. He felt sure he was onto something though. An adult-oriented haunted Halloween mansion. It was just the thing to shake up the neighborhood. Everyone was getting far too proper. With all the bad economic news, and the sour taste in everyone's mouth from the latest city election, there was lots of tension between neighbors. This would loosen them up a bit. Still, some of his ideas were a bit extreme. But they'd be watered down before the day of the party. After all, just putting together a haunted house was a lot of work. And there wasn't a lot of time between now and the party date. Even with a bunch of people helping, they'd be cutting it close. So Tom felt confused when Phil reacted so positively to his list of ideas. "This is a damn creative idea you've got here," Phil said as he read over the list. "Every one of these. I can see the possibilities already." "You don't thing they're too, you know, extreme?" Tom asked, wondering if Phil really understood what he'd been getting at. "Not at all. Yeah, some of 'em are a little ambitious. But the challenge of pulling it off makes it all worth it. Besides, you wouldn't have written them down if you didn't want to do 'em this way, would you?" There wasn't much Tom could say in answer to that. There'd been several times when he'd been tempted to censor this list. After all, how 'adult' was too adult? But everything had been so crystal clear in his head, it had seemed, well, 'wrong' to deviate from the original idea by even the least bit. "So, you'll host the party here?" Tom confirmed. "Sarah and I can provide some mixers. And we'll make it Bring Your Own, so you don't have to shell out a wad of cash to keep our drunken lot intoxicated. And we can get a bunch of people to help decorate and be performers." "Normally, that would sound great," Phil replied. "But I've already got a bunch of ideas, and I was thinking they'd work best if it was all a big surprise. You know, kind of like a premier night once all the special effects have been added. You don't mind if I just take this and run with it, do you?" "Um, no, go ahead. It's your house, after all. Like I said, Sarah and I will help in any way we can. You sure you want to take on all this work?" Tom asked, a little puzzled by Phil's enthusiasm. "It's not a problem at all," Phil assured him. "It's what I like to do." * * * It grew, as these things do, underground, snaking through the detritus of the human soul, nourished by the dank things dropped into the darkness and the moldy scum that inevitably occurs there. Out of sight and out of mind, it grew quickly, pushing through the crust, finding food where it could, twisting over and around any obstacle placed in its way. To witness its growth, one might even believe that it had a mind of its own... * * * "Loooove what you've done with the place," Sarah announced, her words dripping with exaggerated sarcasm. For two weeks they'd tried to get Phil to let them into his house and help with the decorating and preparations. And for two weeks he'd refused any assistance from them, and from the rest of the residents in the neighborhood. And if he'd used a professional decorating service, no one could understand how. Not a single truck or delivery had been made to his home. Or so said the older residents who had nothing better to do than keep tabs on all their neighbors. But now, just two hours before the start of the festivities, Sarah and Tom were standing in the foyer of Phil's house, admiring an interior décor that appeared to be ripped from several eras, tossed into a blender and vomited throughout the rooms. What had once been a sleek, contemporary and often sterile environment was now a baroque nightmare. Blood red, royal blue and black velvet cloth hung from every wall and covered the ceiling, creating a cave-like surrounding that tricked the eyes and muffled the ears. Huge crystal chandeliers with fake, flickering candles provided a fuzzy yellow light that was quickly sucked up by the draperies. Off to the left, in what had once been the living room, the walls were similarly covered, with wall sconces providing a dim illumination. All the modern white furniture had been removed, to be replaced with Victorian chairs, sofas and fainting couches that looked uncomfortable and forbidding. To the right, what had once been a glass topped dining room table was now an oaken monstrosity, with intricately carved high-backed chairs surrounding the polished surface. Rather than the musty smell that would normally be associated with such décor, there was a sweet, almost cloying odor in the air. Phil smiled knowingly when Sarah commented on it. "That's a very special incense that I picked up in my travels. It opens the mind to possibilities and frees the spirit from inhibitions. Later on you'll see what I mean," he added mysteriously. The long hallway was decorated in a similar fashion to the front of the house, with only an occasional spotted mirror or ancient portrait to break up the fold upon fold of velvety fabric. As Phil led Tom and Sarah down the hallway to their room, they strained to see how he'd decorated the other rooms, but all were dark inside with a gauzy material hung in the doorways. "It's all very..." Sarah paused to find the right word. "Foreboding?" Tom inserted, running his hands along the heavy fabrics. "Foreboding," Phil repeated. "Yes, that's what I was going for. I could've gone the horror route, with rotting wood and blood-streaked walls and all that. But it's so overdone. This," and he waved his hand to encompass it all, "is so much more elegant. It takes your fears and twists them, relying upon imagination rather than blood and gore. In fact, it may just be..." "Aaaaayyyyeeee!" He stopped abruptly as Sarah gave an ear-splitting shriek. "Sp-sp-sp-spiders!" she said, her voice quavering and her finger pointing at the ceiling. Indeed, the cloth across the ceiling was swarming with the eight-legged pests, crawling this way and that not far over their heads. "Yes, they are wonderful, aren't they?" replied Phil, not the least bit disturbed by her reaction. "They're from a friend of mine, who breeds special crops of them. These have make no webs and like to stay in high places, so they're great for scaring guests but won't be a nuisance." Rather than showing delight at the genetic modifications, Sarah pushed her way down the hallway, clinging to the wall and keeping away from the largest mass of spiders overhead. Tom followed with just a little less trepidation. It wouldn't do to show a fear of spiders to any guy in the neighborhood. Even if you were supposed to be afraid. When Tom and Sarah got to their room, they were surprised at how mundane it looked. Both had been expecting something much more elaborate. Instead of a room that approximated something from a horror movies, the room was as welcoming as a tween age girl's. A large, comfy looking brass bed jutted out into the middle of the room, with white Victorian tables on each side. An old-fashioned full-length mirror stood next to the bed, and a small upright dresser tucked in the corner. If not for the extra dark shades covering the windows and the electric candles flickering on the bedside tables, the room could've passed for the master suite in any of the local bed and breakfasts. Phil read their consternation right away. "Don't be fooled by the way it looks. Sometimes the most horrifying things happen in the most innocent of places." Sarah studied him closely. That was a strange way to put it. He'd seemed almost happy when he said it. "Anyway," Phil continued, "since you have the most makeup to apply, I thought you should be the first to get here and get set up. Everything you need is in this bag," he said, dropping a fat bag it on the bed. "Tom, your costume needs a bit of assembly, so I'll help you put it on. And Sarah, after you help with Tom's costume, we'll get you into yours." Tom drew the pieces out of the bag and inspected them. The mask was grotesque to look at, but at least had wide eye holes and plenty of room for his mouth. He thought he could probably breathe pretty well through the large pig nose that protruded from the middle of the face. The next item looked like raw meat, though it was made from pliable rubber. He held it to his chest. Yes. It was clearly kind of wrap to make his torso look more gruesome. He then pulled a pair of boots from the pile. "Horseshoes?" he asked, puzzled by the soles on the boots. "I thought the devil had cloven hooves." "Actually, that's a common misconception. The devil has feet just like you and I. He walks around the earth much like his adversary, only for quite a bit longer than 33 and a third years. Besides, you're not dressing as the devil. You're dressing as a demon. Big difference." Tom cast Phil a searching look, which turned questioning when he rooted out the next piece of the costume. "And this is...?" he asked, picking it up by the top edge. Sarah giggled as Tom held up a 10-inch hollow dong with a flesh-colored strap hanging off the sides. "Oh, demons are usually quite well-endowed. So I put it in there in case you need some extra equipment." He said it so matter-of-factly that Tom and Sarah exchanged a startled glance. Phil noticed the glance and smiled inside. That was what he liked about the Midwest: the residents were so naïve, they didn't even notice they were naïve. Which made the feeding all that much more enjoyable. Though he was overtly helping Tom into his costume, Phil spent much of the time observing Sarah. She'd dressed for the party in very convenient and casual clothes, sure that she'd be donning a costume. Unbuttoned almost halfway down, her white blouse parted nicely to give Phil a good view of her voluptuous cleavage. Not that he wouldn't be seeing more before the night was over. But every good meal needed an appetizer to whet the palate. He applied Tom's makeup slowly, taking pride in his craft and giving the incense a chance to work its magic. When it finally came time to turn their attention to Sarah, the nubs of her nipples were already visible beneath her blouse, and she was unconsciously shifting her hips in a slow, erotic rhythm. She was almost ready. "Sarah, your costume is almost no costume at all. The story of a demon ravaging a virginal maiden is as old as humanity itself. And it really didn't matter what a maiden was wearing. A demon could penetrate anything, even a chastity belt. Some demons never touch the flesh at all. Their specialty is a very literal mind fuck." Another Demonic Party He'd seen a lot of flesh recently. Not flesh in the flesh, of course. But the flesh of wanton women on the websites where weak men go. So much flesh that it had begun to all blur together. The heavy breasts. The wicked waists. The open thighs. The wet pussies. The cum-soaked skin. There were times when he barely knew where one woman ended and the next one began. But the ones that haunted his dreams, that ravaged his soul and woke him in the middle of the night with an erection so stiff it hurt were the ones who knelt before a wall and sucked anonymous cock stuck through a hole. Topless women, fingering their dirty cunts under their short skirts as they gave oral sex to a never-ending line of men. Women whose loose morals were like a beacon to the family man, temptresses so powerful that no man could resist. In his dreams he taught them a lesson, first teasing them through the hole, providing a taste of his massive cock, then surprising them on the other side of the wall. Pinning them in the corner. Ripping off their clothes. Forcing his cock down their throats. And then giving them a savage fucking in their dirty cunts and their revolting asses, teaching the harsh consequences of seducing god-fearing men with their succulent flesh and willing mouths. And then he would leave them, bruised and battered inside and out, covered in the sperm they had so desperately desired, knowing he had taught them a valuable lesson: to give their bodies to only one man, their husbands, and to use their womanly ways to please him as he requested. For that was the way that the supreme being had made the world. When Mark returned from his travels in the land of dreams with a massive erection and his mind filled with the sights and sounds of brutal sexuality, he would turn to his wife in bed and wake her with s sharp squeeze to her breast. No matter how groggy, she would do the dutiful thing and kick off the covers, pull off her panties and spread her legs to receive him. Then he would impale her on his scepter of righteousness, fucking her in the same way that all women needed to be fucked occasionally: harshly, violently and thoroughly. For only through repeated lessons could women remember to keep from tempting every man who crossed their paths. So his father had taught him, and his father's father, and down through the generations. And when he was done, he would spew his sperm across his wife's prostrate body, smearing it with his most precious fluid, leaving her dripping and shaking, freshly reminded of her place in the world, and his. * * * * * "To conquer the evil, we need to go where evil lives." That had been Mark's answer to the invitation to attend an adult Halloween Party to be held at Phil Diamond's home. Of course, that was his answer to most everything, his wife Nadia thought. Not that it was her place to question his wisdom. There was truth to his reasoning. She and Mark were the most pious of any family in the neighborhood. And the most devoted as well, always attending to their religious duties. Their families came from a long line of religious leaders. No Christian, Jew, Hindu or Muslim could match their devotion. When it was time for just rewards, she and Mark would be at the head of the line. Mark, though, wasn't happy with simply proving his devotion by only dealing with the temptations that normal life threw at every man. No, he was always seeking out the evil acts, testing himself against their draw, demonstrating that nothing could pull him from his true and given path. And if it did, he knew that his god forgave him, and he would lay the weakness not upon himself, but upon those who tested him. Whenever possible, Nadia tried to avoid him during these tests. Though that was not always possible. It was, of course, her duty to attend to his every need, that being the duty of any devout wife. And she lived with him, which made avoiding him for very long almost impossible. Her involvement in his tests became nearly inevitable. It was during one of his tests that the invitation to the party had arrived. Mark had been sitting for two hours in front of the family's home computer, looking at site after site of pornography. Nadia had stayed upstairs in the recreation room, darning some of Mark's pants and using the noise from the television to drown out the sounds of sex that occasionally rose from the basement. When he called to her, though, there was no ignoring it. "Look at these filthy, wicked women," he ordered her, when she found him in the basement office. She quickly closed the office door. The children were fast asleep, but there was no reason to take any chances. She looked at the screen to find a movie playing, with two blond, white women with enormous breasts alternately licking the penis of an impossibly built man, while they simultaneously pleasured each other's vaginas with their fingers and a long, purple sex toy. Nadia was appropriately named, as her own breasts were large and round. But next to these women, hers were like small hills next to mountains. "Why are women so wicked and filthy?" he demanded of her, his eyes wild with something between outrage and lust. Nadia discreetly checked his crotch and wasn't surprised to see the erection in his pants. She knew from experience that there was no correct answer to this question. Her one and only option was to redirect his obsession. "Are these women wicked because they don't have our faith?" she asked meekly, hoping to turn the conversation into a religious one. But Mark wasn't so easily deterred. "No!" he cried, turning back to the computer. "It is the fault of the women. They are made to tempt men, to turn them from the path of righteousness. Look at these women here. See how they use their bodies to make men evil. Even the women who are not whores cannot be trusted. These could be our neighbors. Flaunting their bodies and forcing their wickedness on the world. Look!" He'd gone to another site, with pictures of dozens of women with their legs spread wide and their private parts on display for all to see. Nadia knew the pose well. Mark often made her take it when they were in bed together, often right before he put his hard penis into her vagina. But she'd never done it in front of any people. The thought made her itch nervously, whether from fear or curiosity she could not tell. "Do you know what I would do if these were my women?" he asked heatedly, pulling her by the sleeve of her dress closer to him. He pressed his face close to hers. "I'd punish them," he declared flatly. "All women need to be punished for their transgressions. For their evil, tempting ways." Nadia knew that it was hopeless to protest. Hopeless to point out that not all women were like this. That especially his own wife wasn't like this. Mark had seen the evil, and now he had to experience the evil before he could expunge the evil. That was just his way. And it was her duty to attend to him. "Remove those slutty clothes, woman," he ordered darkly. Though they were devout, Mark did not make her wear the traditional clothing that some of the other women of their faith wore. She hurriedly unbuttoned her blouse, then unzipped the zipper on her skirt and let both drop to the floor. To her chagrin, she had earlier selected that night to try and seduce him, and thus found herself standing before him in a sheer white bra and high-cut panties. His face darkened ominously. "This! This is the evil that I speak of! Why, woman, would you need to wear such things if not to tempt god-fearing men from their path?" She knew it would make no difference to him if she said that she'd donned the sexy underthings just for him. Nor that no other man would ever see her clad thusly. "If you want to bare your breasts, then bare they will be," he growled, pushing her arms into the air and yanking the bra up and over her head. Suddenly, he grabbed both of her breasts and squeezed hard, twisting the delicate flesh until her nipples were hard. His breath was harsh against her skin, and she could smell the lustful heat of him. He kissed her roughly, sharply biting her lip until she cried out. "And if you want to bare your holes, then make them bare for me!" he ordered. Swiftly, and trembling a little, she pushed the panties to the ground and stepped out of them. "Since those women aren't here," he gestured to the screen filled with bare vaginas, "You will pay the price for all women being such whores." She stood before him, naked and acquiescent. "Show me the pose that is natural to all women," he ordered, gesturing at the women on the screen. She lay back on the floor, thankful they had decided to carpet it, and spread her legs open wide for him. After first turning on the bright overhead lights, he knelt between her legs and critically inspected her vagina. She had left her hair there untrimmed, per his direction, and now winced as he pulled and tugged at the pubic patch in a mean-spirited way. At his direction, she pulled open the folds of her vagina, exposing the pink inner walls. While he would never defile himself by licking or tasting her intimate parts, he did lean down to carefully inspect her hole. She gasped as he suddenly invaded her with two fingers, involuntarily clenching against him as he probed deeply inside of her. "Ah-ha! You are excited by the thought of displaying yourself so blatantly, woman! Your body betrays you!" He pulled his fingers out, slick with her juices, and waved them triumphantly in front of her face. "Now you will pay the penalty for being like these other women." "Get ready," he ordered harshly. Swiftly, she rolled onto her hand and knees, canting her rear upward in the position he'd taught her on their wedding day. On that day, he'd instructed her to never look back, and for the most part, she'd obeyed that order. On the few instances that she'd forgotten, he'd spanked her hard enough to pound the lesson into her memory. "Filthy, fucking ass," he muttered, roughly penetrating her vagina with his hard penis. He didn't allow her to use swear words or curse words, and she wouldn't have felt comfortable using them anyway. He knew a whole dictionary of words for her body parts though, and didn't have any qualms about using them. Especially when he was punishing her for the sins of womankind. "Filthy, fucking whores. All of 'em. Need a hard cock in the cunt. A cock in their pussy. Screwed in there. Slammed in there. Fucked like whores. Fucked like bitches." He cursed in time with his strokes, each thrust inward accompanied by a word, expelled from his mouth like a bullet from a gun. When Nadia had first heard him swear in bed, she'd blushed from head to toe. Now she knew it was part of his punishment -- and his penance. Nadia concentrated on the feel of his penis in her vagina. She was glad that he hadn't decided to take her dirty hole. That was not only humiliating, it was also sometimes painful. Mark somehow took her pain to be the same as what he would inflict on other sinful women. And he'd take her the dirty way to show just how wrong it was. She could tell by the way he moved around that he was close to ejaculating. Even though it was a sin not to do so inside her, he sometimes did it on her face, or her breasts, or on her labia. It was only a minor sin, and Mark would make up for it with a little extra prayer. The sound of the phone startled her and caused Mark to let out a stream of epithets, even as he pulled out of her. They couldn't let the answering machine get it; waiting that long would wake the children. "Yes?" Mark snapped into the handset, clearly upset that he'd been interrupted in his task. "What?" A pause as the caller spoke. "When? Adult, you say? Yes, both Nadia and I will be there. Someone has to watch over the souls of this neighborhood." With that, he hung up the phone. Nadia snapped her gaze back to the carpeting, fearful that he might have noticed her breach of his long-standing order. But he hadn't seen it. Instead, he took his place behind her rear and re-entered her vagina. After just a few strokes he was spewing his semen inside her womb. Phil Diamond snapped shut the cellphone and sighed contentedly, eyeing the split-level ranch that was home to Mark and Nadia. The waves of lust washing out from the basement had an exotic tint to them, as if they'd been super-concentrated. Phil tasted the air and felt his groin throb in response. There was something about the lust of the uber religious that was a more powerful aphrodisiac. Maybe it was the denial they so often practiced. Or the feeling of superiority they so often displayed. Or maybe it was simply a mixture of that denial, superiority and guilt, as their human bodies so easily betrayed their moral superiority. And now they were coming, willingly, into his den of iniquity. He knew just what he wanted to do with them. To them. And about them. * * * * Were such an image from a satellite possible, one would see dark spots throughout the world, black holes where evil dwelt, like a cancer upon the Earth's face. Were such an image possible and the means to analyze it available, one would find those black holes evenly spaced, as though an otherworldly entity had divided up the population into separate territories. Were such an analysis possible, one might notice that humans seemed drawn to such black spots, making pilgrimages there, staying just long enough to acquire a tinge of darkness, yet leaving before said darkness spoils there soul. Were such things possible. * * * * * They arrived at the house a little after the appointed time. From the number of cars parked in the street, every couple in the neighborhood seemed to be in attendance. Mark and Nadia had walked, of course. Mark wasn't the type who would waste gas just for a trip inside the neighborhood. They'd seen other couples walking towards the party as well. But, somehow, they arrived alone on the porch, waiting to be admitted. The door opened and a blast of music greeted them, followed by Phil's smiling face. He wore, as he always did, black jeans, a gray shirt and a three button vest, the kind you'd get as part of a suit. It seemed like an incongruous outfit, but it looked good on him. "Come on in!" he beckoned. "Let me get you situated." His smile was welcoming and his tone full. Mark led the way in the house, while Phil held the door open for Nadia. Once inside, it took a while for their eyes to adjust. Phil had decorated the whole foyer in swaths of velvet and silk, and the motif carried through down the hallway to the stairs at the end, which led up to the second floor. Neither Mark nor Nadia had ever been inside Phil's house, save for the kitchen area, which they'd seen during one of Phil's backyard barbecues. So it was hard to imagine what the rooms looked like when not covered in Halloween décor. Taking them both by the hand, Phil led them into an adjoining room, which Nadia guessed would normally be a sitting room or small living room. The first thing that Nadia noticed were the room decorations: floor to ceiling white linens. All the furniture had been removed, and white pillows were strewn across the white carpeting. The entire feeling was of being inside a giant marshmallow. The second thing that she noticed was the cloying incense on the air. Not quite the smell from religious ceremonies, or that they would smell in certain unwanted stores in the mall. It was at once both tangy and compelling, and she found herself breathing it in at a faster and faster rate, until her head started to spin. Phil seemed to notice. "Nadia, you're going to make your head spin if you keep that up. You'll get used to it in a while and you won't even notice it. It's something I picked up on one of my trips. If you like it, I can give you some at the end of the evening." Nadia, though, had already lost track of the conversation with Phil. She'd been hit, quite unexpectedly, with the sudden urge to kiss her husband. And not just a light kiss on the cheek. She wanted to shove her tongue down his throat! Startled at the thought, she shook her head. Mark hated public displays of affection. He said that only whores and tramps would allow themselves to be kissed in front of others. With a visible effort, she pulled her attention back to the conversation. She would give Mark her tongue after they returned home. Mark noticed his wife staring at him with blatant lust and frowned in disgust. Take her to one party and suddenly she lost all sense of propriety. Just like a woman. Now he'd need to waste time that night punishing her at home. Or maybe he wouldn't wait until they got home. Maybe he'd take her into the bushes somewhere. Take her into the bushes and bend her over and spank her. He could almost hear the sound of his hand on her ass. The hot sting of its impact. The shuddering of her flesh. The little mewling cries as he whipped her for being an easy slut. Her bare breasts jiggling with each stroke. Her pussy, wet and steaming, waiting for his cock to turn it into a blazing furnace, and then quench that fire with stream of milky cum... His thoughts trailed away as he saw Phil and Nadia staring at him. How long had be been standing there daydreaming? Long enough for them to notice? Long enough for them to see the hard-on outlined in his pants? That's what women do to you, he decided. That was their evil temptation and the ugly problem that no one wanted to talk about. How a woman could so easily distract you. He decided he would punish her, after the evening was over. Filthy women! "So, guys, I know you're very religious and you don't drink, so I've prepared some special sparkling cider for you." Two glasses had somehow appeared in his hands. "Mark, most of the men are upstairs, enjoying the Halloween amusements I've prepared for everyone. And Nadia, I'll take you to the back of the house, where most of the wives are hanging out. I'm pretty sure you know everyone, so there's no need to spend time on all those tedious introductions. Right?" Mark had lost track of the conversation again, his mind immersed in a daydream about just how he would punish Nadia after her first punishment in the bushes, but he realized that an answer to whatever Phil had been saying was expected. "There are no men down here?" he asked. Their religion was such that women shouldn't be alone in the company of men, unless they are married or betrothed. "No, no men," Phil assured him. "Except for me, of course. But I'll just be guiding your wife into the company of the other women, and then I'll be heading upstairs to take care of the rest of my guests. There's no need to worry. I know all about your religious preferences, and I'll make sure everyone respects them." Mark was just about to reply when a woman brushed past them. No, not a woman. A girl, fresh and nubile. She wore nothing more than a gossamer robe, untied in front and low cut in back. Mark could see every inch of her soft, smooth skin. The pert lift of her small breasts with rosy nipples hard as pebbles. The silky curves of her hips. And, as she swept past, the sweet dimples above her rear, swooping sensuously down into the cleft of her ass. As she walked past, he even thought he could see the soft folds of her pussy, peeking out from between the globes of her ass cheeks. She looked delicious. Delectable. Like one of the virgins he was going to get in the afterlife, come down to earth to give him a foretaste of her sensuous gifts. He wanted her. Now. Nadia watched as Mark's jaw literally dropped. He looked stunned, watching the little slut with as much attention as a cat hunting a mouse. She wouldn't be surprised at all if drool didn't start oozing from the corner of his mouth. All because he was ogling this pre-pubescent wench! She was about to lecture him on his hypocritical ways when a sudden thought stopped her. She didn't just want his tongue stuck down her throat. She wanted it stuck deep inside her slit. Deep in the place where his tongue had never been. She would wiggle on it and he'd rasp across her love button and make her scream and weep and cry with pleasure. So let him have his lustful thoughts about a girl who was barely old enough to be his daughter. She would get hers later that night. She would be the one giving the orders. She breathed the scent deeply into her lungs. Maybe she wouldn't let him wait until they got home. Maybe she'd entice him into the park... Another Demonic Party Phil watched the exchange with the pleasure of a connoisseur. The speed at which the two had been affected by the incense didn't surprise him; with their religion, they had no resistance to mind-altering substances. But the speed at which Mark reacted to the temptation was well worth observing. The most devout were often the fastest to fall. Though, it was still possible that he would remain in the 'look but don't touch' category, Phil reminded himself. The woman's sexual excitement was plainly visible. Though it appeared that the husband had missed all the signs of it. Oh, well. There'd be a point later in the evening to see if that remained true. "Nadia, why don't we retire to the kitchen?" Phil said, taking her by the elbow. "Mark, I'll meet you upstairs. I'm sure you can find the way." Mark didn't even spare a glance at his wife as he headed towards the stairs, which was, conveniently, the direction the gossamer clad girl had gone. In fact, she seemed to be waiting on the stairs for him to catch up! Nadia watched her husband trail along behind the teenage sexpot and gave a small sigh. She wanted her husband's fat penis inside her right now, punishing her for all the sins of womankind, if that's what it took to make him excited enough to keep going all night. She even wanted him in her dirty hole. Then she turned to follow Phil as he led her through velvet-covered rooms to the rear of the house. She was a bit surprised when Phil led her through the kitchen into another room. "The women are actually hanging out in the exercise room," he explained, as they passed by another of the thinly clad young girls. Nadia pretended not to notice when the girl languidly ran her hand over Phil's butt as they squeezed past her. Phil did have a good looking butt. The idea that she shouldn't be looking at another man's butt didn't even cross her mind. The exercise room turned out to be large enough to comfortably hold the dozen women already there, plus a set of intricate looking exercise equipment pushed together in the corner. Two of the walls were covered in mirrors floor to ceiling, as was another section of the ceiling. The women, dressed in multi-colored, flowing robes, crowded in a circle near one of the corners, staring intently at something in the middle of their circle, with giggles and talking creating a loud din. A pounding music that Nadia couldn't identify filled the air. The scent of incense was heavy here, accompanying another scent that seemed familiar but she couldn't identify. "Allison, I think you know Nadia," Phil said, lightly touching the shoulder of one of the women in the circle. Allison turned, and Nadia was shocked to find a face that didn't look like Allison's at all. In fact, it didn't look human at all. Upon further inspection, she realized that it was a flesh-colored mask, molded to fit her friend's face but making her entirely unrecognizable. She looked around. All of the women were wearing similar masks, though some were bright silver, others bright gold, and still others were multi-colored, like clown faces where the makeup had been applied in the dark. The voice that came from the mask sounded like Allison's. "Of course, Phil. Nadia and I are old friends. Our kids go to school together. And of course, she's joined us at so many PTA meetings." What she left unsaid was that Nadia had usually attended to complain about the reading material assigned during that semester. "I have to attend to some things upstairs," Phil explained. "Can you look after our new guest?" If her head hadn't been throbbing from the incense and the music, Nadia might've caught the meaningful undertone to his voice. "Absolutely!" Allison exclaimed, taking Nadia by the shoulder. "And before you leave, Phil, I wanted to thank you for the party games you've set up. They're all very enjoyable." Nadia turned to watch Phil walk away, wondering a bit about his butt, only to see him met at the doorway by a thin, pale, redhead nymph. She watched without any consternation or embarrassment as Phil pushed his hand inside the girl's robe to caress her pert ass, before the two of them disappeared around the corner. Allison followed her gaze. "I don't go that way, but if I did, I'd love to feel that smooth body sliding between my legs," she confided in a whisper. Nadia nodded, and this time didn't even blush. "This way," Allison said, taking her by the hand and leading her through a doorway. They emerged in a small locker room, featuring white tile floors with a single bench down the center and cupboards along the walls. There was a small, open shower in one corner, currently unoccupied, but the water droplets on the walls indicated that it had been used recently. Allison pulled a bundle of clothing out of one of the cupboards and handed it to Nadia. "Phil wants his guests to feel comfortable, so he's supplied us with these robes to wear instead of our constricting clothes. Between you and me, I left my bra and panties on at first, but ended up coming back and taking them off." She pulled open the top of her robe so Nadia could see her bare cleavage. "Of course," she continued, "it's entirely up to you how much you take off or leave on. But it's a lot more comfortable going commando." Nadia didn't know what "going commando" meant, but surmised that it had something to do with being naked. She looked around the locker room. There was no place private to change. She'd always felt uncomfortable undressing in a locker room, even if surrounded just by women. She'd often thought to ask her husband about the sinfulness of it, but never did, perhaps realizing that it would be just another reason to punish her for the weaknesses of women. "I'll turn around," Allison offered, a gesture for which Nadia was immediately grateful. The robe turned out to be not a single one, but a series of three layers, each sheer in its own right, but adequately opaque when worn together. It occurred to her that the teen girls were probably only wearing one layer. She wasn't sure what to do with her own underwear. In the end, the decided to leave her panties on but go without her bra. It didn't matter if her husband saw her like this or not. She was going to be punished for all the sin here anyway. Cinching the robe around her waist, she looked for a mirror to inspect herself. Horny as she felt, it still wouldn't be right to leave a large amount of skin immodestly showing. That's when she noticed that Allison could've been observing her in the mirror the whole time that she changed. But had she? Strangely, the thought didn't fill her with embarrassment as much as a strange kind of warmth. She wondered distractedly if Allison had liked what she'd seen. They returned to the exercise room just as a woman's voice rose above the din, yelping and gasping. Along with it, rising in pitch, was a strange buzzing sound. The circle parted to let Nadia and Allison join them. At first, Nadia couldn't fathom what was actually happening. Inside the circle, a woman in an elaborate mask sat astride what looked like a half barrel. Her robe was undone, leaving her bare breasts and flat stomach out where everyone could see. With one hand on the floor to keep her steady, she used the other to pinch and pull at her nipples, sometimes with hard concentration, and sometimes almost absent-mindedly. Sweat streaked her face and trickled down the valley between her breasts. And always, in varying intensity, she gasped, whimpered and even howled, her body writhing violently upon the barrel. Nadia felt her juices begin to flow, though she didn't understand why. Looking at another woman nude should be evil, one part of her brain was telling her. Look away, it said. But the rest of her was entranced. Why was this woman so excited? And what was going to happen next? Was this what women in the neighborhood did in their spare time? The woman lifted herself off the barrel momentarily and Nadia spotted what was causing so much excitement. There was a plastic penis attached to the barrel! And the woman was sitting astride it! But she still didn't understand why the woman was in such throes of ecstasy. Her husband had toyed her before. And made her toy herself. But it had been mostly frantic action, pumping and thrusting and such. This woman was just sitting there, occasionally grinding her vagina against the barrel. The buzzing increased in pitch, and so did the woman's moans. All around her, the other women had ceased their talking and were staring almost mesmerized at the scene before them. Nadia felt some fingers lightly caressing her ass, but was too captivated to make it stop. Besides, it felt kind of good. She was wet between her legs, and though she didn't know why, that felt good too. All she could wonder was what was going to happen next. The buzzing lowered in intensity, and there was a collective groan of disappointment from the circle of women. But then the woman on the barrel began to squeal in delight, possibly in response to something new that was going on between her legs. She bucked up and down, abandoning her breasts to put both hands on the floor. As she raised and lowered her body onto the barrel, Nadia could clearly see the plastic penis appearing and disappearing back into the woman's vagina, rotating round and round while vibrating almost too fast to see. "Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!" the woman blasphemed in a screeching cry, her body shuddering and quaking as an enormous orgasm thundered through it. "Oh god, oh god, oh god," she whimpered over and over, finally lifting her vagina off the slowly rotating penis, leaving it slick and wet with her juices. She collapsed on her side onto the floor, her butt and red vagina naked and displayed for all to see, breasts still spilling out of her robe. Silently, one of the sheer-robed teen girls approached her, helped her to her knees. Shakily, trembling, she staggered out of the circle and headed into another room, her thighs wet and her breasts red and scored from the violent attention she'd applied to herself. "Who's next?" the teen girl asked the circle of women. * * * * * Phil paused in the hallway, letting his awareness flow down corridors, through doorways and into rooms. The whole house pulsated with sexual energy. Not the pristine energy of lovemaking in progress that clung thickly in the throat, threatening to strangle him from the inside. No, it was rather the thin, tangy, yet ultimately more filling taste of lust unleashed, of forbidden barriers breached and promises broken. Phil sucked it in, let it stir through him, tasted it and let it envelop his senses. His sexual organs throbbed, straining for satisfaction and release. He could deny himself a while longer. But, perhaps he might sample a bit of human flesh in the meantime? As an appetizer. For the main meal would prove to be oh, so satisfying. * * * * * Mark followed the gossamer-clad girl up the stairs, watching her ass sway back and forth as she ascended slowly in front of him. She stayed three steps ahead, so that her butt was level with his eyes, and he could see the bare folds of her pussy writhing between her legs. At the top of the stairs, she turned right, heading down a hallway filled with open doorways. Men and women loitered in the openings, some speaking softly, others softly caressing their partner's bodies, either through their clothes or with their hands indiscreetly slipped inside pants or skirts or blouses. Mark barely noticed their wickedness, so focused was he on following the temptress ahead of him. She paused at one of the doors, smiled back at him, then nodded as if he should follow her into the room. In three strides he was there, forced to wait while his eyes adjusted to the dim lights, then found her at the end of a line of party goers, all watching something with stark intensity. He pushed himself insistently between her and another couple, the man with his hand inside his date's skirt, so that the hem was pushed up enough that anyone who cared to look could see her panties and his fingers stroking the slit beneath them. Nobody was paying attention to that, nor to the fact that he had his other hand inside her bra, rhythmically thumbing her nipple. Instead, everyone's attention was on the bed before them, where a scene right out of hell was being enacted before them. A man, dressed like a demon and acting just as ferociously, was violently fucking a naked, big breasted woman with an intensity that was frightening to behold. Mounted behind her, he sodomized her, his powerful strokes causing her to grunt with the effort of keeping herself on the bed, her ass in the air and her tits scraping the sheets on the bed. Raw, red scratches criss-crossed her back, presumably caused by the clawed gloves worn by the man. Mark gasped then, as he realized that the demon wasn't just fucking the woman's ass, he was simultaneously fucking her cunt, thanks to a strap-on dick he wore just below his natural one. The woman was being double fucked in front of all these people, and she seemed only to care about the fuck sticks in her rectum and cunt! Mark felt the young girl sidle up behind him, resting her head against his arm as she took in the depraved scene. He didn't move when her arms came around his waist, and he only pressed back when her fingers began stroking his cock through his jeans. He looked around, suddenly worried that someone might see, but all eyes were on the degenerate tableau before them. Slowly, like a nervous shoplifter, he let one of his arms slide back between them, and by touch alone found the soft slit between her legs. She shifted slightly, and suddenly he was able to tenderly stroke her pussy slit, luxuriating in the feel of her warm, silky skin under his rough fingertips. Slowly, with no more motion than it took to breathe, they silently stroked each other, their mutual movements paling against the blatant hedonism playing out on the bed before them. As they watched, the demon/man savagely pulled out from the woman's ass and cunt and with a brutal slap on the ass, made her flip over and spread her legs so all could see her ravaged, gaping cunt. Mark could actually see down into her fuck hole, the pink of her pussy giving way to red and a darkness that hid any wonders that lay within. Then, rolling off the bed, the demon strode to the end, and pulling heartlessly on her tits, dragged her until her head flopped down off the mattress. Positioning himself above her, he ruthlessly jammed his cock into her mouth, slamming himself deep in her throat until she gagged in pain. Without seeming to notice her distress, he began fucking her open mouth and throat, pleasuring himself in her mouth hole, while her legs remained spread and strangers took pictures of her gleaming red gash. "I want to suck your cock," the girl whispered in his ear, even as she grabbed it through his pants. In response, he pushed his finger up into her fuck hole, hooking it there as if to keep her in place. "Not here," he murmured, though he very much wanted to show these heathens how a real man fucks a virgin. Instead, he pushed his way out of the pressing crowd, and, pulling her along by the finger crooked in her cunt, led the way out of the room. "This way," she nodded, as if to make her way down the hallway, now cleared of loiterers, all presumably watching the demon defile the maiden in the room they'd just left. When he hesitated, she leaned forward and placed a passionate kiss on his lips. Fire surged through his brain, and he pushed her head away. "I'll do the taking," he growled at her, pushing her robe off her shoulders and bending forward to take her pert tit into his mouth. Sucking savagely, he soon had her nipples as hard as rocks, and her gasps of pain and pleasure echoed in his ears. Then, hooking his finger in her pussy even more cruelly, he led the compliant girl down the hall and into the room she'd indicated. To his dismay, that room was populated by six men, all gathered at one end, looking out a window, laughing uproariously and pointing emphatically. Momentarily distracted, Mark joined them, tugging his nubile guide along like a prized pet. Looking out the window, Mark saw that it overlooked another room in the house on the ground floor. Down there, the room was completely populated with women, all wearing extravagant masks and white robes, not as sheer as the one his guide wore, but opalescent enough to leave very little to the imagination. Big women, little women, fat women, curvy women. It was clear that these were the wives of men from the neighborhood. They were all gathered around a single woman dressed in an extremely extravagant mask, with feathers and baubles adorning it. The masked woman appeared to be squatting upon something, and even from this vantage point Mark could see that it was very pleasurable for her. The girl in the gossamer robe gently unhooked his finger from her pussy, then pushed her way through the group of men. Mark saw several of them caress the firm flesh of her ass and waist, an act that filled him with a seething rage. This was his bitch to punish! Let the others find their own! Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of a woman nearing orgasm filled the room, the gasps and pleading mewls coming from a speaker in the corner. His guide returned to him, taking her rightful place behind him and reaching around to caress his cock from behind. Together they listened, along with the other men in the room, to the urgent and desperate cries of the woman below as she writhed upon and humped the mechanical cock beneath her. "This is great!" one of the men exclaimed. "We should go down there. All those bitches are probably horny as hell!" "You cannot," his guide replied, her hands continuing to rub Mark's crotch even as the other men turned to face her. "They are getting their 'Just Desserts,' as Mr. Diamond likes to call it. It is for women only." She waited a beat until the disappointment registered on their faces. "You can, however, make use of them before they get their dessert. The women are serving a special dinner in the room just off the one below. If you like, I can lead you down there," she said, then adding in a whisper that only Mark could hear, "And I can personally attend to you down there." The squeeze to his erection told him everything he needed to know. Next, unfortunately, did not apply to any of the women surrounding the barrel with the mechanical barrel with the penis protruding from it. The next woman to appear came from a door opposite them. She appeared to be hot and sweaty, her hair in wild disarray and her mask askew, as if it had been placed on her face in a hurry. Her robes were undone, and as she strode into the room everyone could see her pubic patch. Her robes clung to her breasts and chest like glue, however, held in place by a splotchy wetness. One of the barely clad girls offered her a bottle of water, which she chugged down until nearly half was gone. Then she somewhat unsteadily walked over and took her place atop the barrel, sitting just behind the large, plastic penis, which had apparently been scrubbed and cleaned of the last occupant's copious juices. "Why does she get to go?" Nadia asked Allison, her voice sounding hollow from inside the mask. She's selected a gold colored one, which covered most of her head, keeping even her hair hidden within its luminescent confines. Allison turned to face her. "Would you like to go?" Nadia could only nod. Of course she wanted to get on it. Her vagina was dripping with desire. And she could orgasm for once without her husband telling her she was a slut. Allison led her across the room and through the door that the woman had just come from. The found themselves in a corridor where the walls didn't stretch high enough to reach the ceiling. The walls were white, the lights low, but not so dark that they couldn't find their way. Another Demonic Party One of the ever-present nubile girls greeted them. "We only have one room available," she said brightly. "It's big enough for two, if you'd care to share. I'm sure the other guest wouldn't mind," she added with a giggle. Nadia was confused. It was if they were talking in code or something. But Allison seemed to understand the conversation. "Lead on," she nodded, again taking Nadia by the hand. Nadia hadn't held hands with a woman since her childhood, but she felt grateful for the reassuring touch. Besides, Allison had a very soft hand. Once inside the room, the first thing Nadia noticed was that everything had a freshly built smell to it. Fresh paint, new carpeting, even that distinct odor of fresh spackle. It seemed that the room had just been assembled in the last few days. The second thing she noticed was that she could barely hear the music anymore. In its place was a low cacophony of moans, groans, cries and sighs. Something was going on all around them. Something very familiar. "Wha-?" she started to ask. "Hush, now. You'll see. Before we can have dessert, we need to serve dinner," Allison stated. As she said it, she sank to her knees and faced the wall opposite the one through which they'd entered. That was when Nadia spotted something she hadn't noticed before: a perfectly round hole cut in the plaster, at about waist height, and right in front of where Allison was kneeling. Then, to her complete shock and amazement, a large, erect penis appeared through the hole, followed by a man's full testicles! Nadia had never seen such a thing. But with the scent of incense heavy in the air, and the sounds of sex filling her ears, she wasn't at all surprised when Allison bent forward and sucked the penis into her mouth. They heard a low moaning from the other side of the wall, and Nadia only had a moment to wonder who was over there before she was answering Allison's beckoning hand and kneeling next to her, ready to take her turn in "serving dinner." It seemed to Nadia that Allison wasn't ever going to give up the cock in her mouth. Now horny beyond measure, she slid between the wall and her friend and began ardently licking the dangling sack, generating a gratifying moan from beyond the wall. Now he knew that he was being serviced by two women and not just one! Perhaps emboldened by Nadia's actions, Allison pulled her mouth away from the penis, then placed her lips on one side of the long, stiff shaft, indicating that Nadia should put her mouth on the other side. Sliding their lips back and forth on the shaft, they could tell by the groans, yelps and thumps that they were driving the man crazy with pleasure. It wasn't long before their lips were meeting passionately at the end of each stroke, and not long after that Nadia felt Allison's finger probing between her vagina lips. This time, she parted her legs without thinking, letting her new lover touch her most intimate spot. And touching the other's slit with tentative fingers that grew bolder with every kiss. When Mark entered the room, he knew exactly what it was and what he should do. The hole in the wall was at the perfect height for him, so he wouldn't need to crouch or stand on tiptoes. He waited until he heard movement on the other side of the wall, then stuck his hand through the opening, up to his elbow. He'd seen in his research that gay men often used such means to get anonymous oral sex to satisfy their deviant ways, and he wasn't going to be fooled by someone like that. The tit that his hand first encountered felt real enough, and the squeal that reverberated through the wall when he savagely pinched the nipple sounded authentic. It was only after he felt the wet slit was he positive that his nubile guide was on the other side of the wall, waiting to serve him, as was her duty. When he stuck his cock through the hole in the wall, warm lips and a wet mouth immediately enveloped his throbbing rod. He could almost see the young girl kneeling before him, head bent to the task, learning with every suck her true role on the world. He would've liked to see her body bent obediently before him, her tits shuddering with every movement, her eyes on his face, responding to every smile or nod he might favor her with. And grinning with shy pleasure when he told her to finger herself, as a minor reward for attending to his needs so deferentially. The thought of her hot pussy gave him an idea, and after enjoying several minutes of enthusiastic cock sucking, he pulled his dick out of her mouth and bent down to issue his next orders, "You will mount my cock, slut." He pushed himself back through the hole. It only took a moment until he felt the crack of a woman's ass rub against his outstretched dick, and then he was inside her cunt, his rod teaching the unclean woman the meaning of righteous sexual punishment. Phil Diamond stood in his private viewing room and surveyed the scenes below him. Through the windows on the right, he could see the women of the neighborhood desperately humping the sybian he'd provided, their eager bodies emitting waves of desire and euphoria which he sampled in small measures, like a connoisseur evaluating a winery's vintages. Through the windows to the right he could see inside every personal booth, which he'd had constructed just days before the party. Inside one row, women knelt, fervently sucking the cocks protruding through the gloryholes. On the other side of those walls, men from the neighborhood indulged their most secret dreams, allowing eager women to worship their engorged cocks. A waif of a woman, just days past her eighteenth birthday, slim of waist and firm of breast, knelt at his feet and enthusiastically licked and sucked his cock. Absently, he allowed his dick to thicken and lengthen a bit more, causing the girl to gasp and then double her efforts to devour the sexual appendage in her mouth. He might fuck her later or he might not. Unlike some of his kind, he wasn't the type to ruin a woman for life by using his second penetrator and enlarging his cock. Women who experienced that often spent the rest of their lifetimes searching for similar satisfaction. Most ended up in the stables of creatures like himself, doing anything for the privilege to serve their master. On the floor below, Mark mouth fucked a woman who lived just a few houses away from him, a woman of a religion that had been an enemy of Mark's for millennia. A woman who Mark would've avoided in regular life, going so far as to cross to the other side of the street had they met on the sidewalk. And now she had her mouth wrapped around his cock, teasing him into a state of uncontrollable desire. Had he known he wasn't being serviced by his nubile guide, he might've been a little less enthusiastic. But now he was completely at the mercy of a woman he would've despised in normal circumstances. And Phil fed off all that intensity, devouring the lust like an animal at a buffet. He turned his attention to the man's wife, kneeling before another wall and ardently sucking another man's cock. Her lust and desire had overwhelmed her sense of right and wrong, the war between the two adding fuel to the flame. Soon she'd be covered in another man's sperm. Soon she'd be seated atop a sybian, her lust on display for all to see. Soon he'd be bathing in her hunger for satisfaction, her complete capitulation to the urges within her loins. Phil Diamond licked his chops. The night had only just begun. * * * * * To be continued... A Devil of a Party Phil sat on the edge of the bed, appraising his performers. With his pig face mask, muscular torso, horseshoe clad boots and loincloth barely covering a raging erection, Tom looked just like... a human dressed up to look like a demon. But that was no surprise. There wasn't a special effects artist on the face of the planet that could accurately render the horrifying, malevolent, grotesque nature of a true demon. But the human imagination would fill in some of the blanks. Enough of them, anyway. "So Sarah, before you put your costume on, I brought you something to help you get in character. Every actor needs something. It's a book about demons. And maidens. And the kinds of things one would do with the other. You can read it or not. But I think you may find it kind of interesting. Maybe read out loud to Tom. And then get dressed." He glanced at his watch. "The guests start to arrive in 45 minutes. I'll stop back and give you fair warning." He turned to leave and smiled as he heard a faint rustle behind him. He didn't have to look to know that Tom was already caressing his wife's breasts in demonic lust. * * * Phil spent just as much time with all the rest of the performers, though that would've seemed impossible to an outside observer knowing there was only 45 minutes until the party started. But such was the atmosphere at any event Phil hosted; time seemed to slow. In any case, Phil attended to the preparations of his performers with the same care seen in a chef preparing a grand seven-course meal, fussing at the details and worrying about the presentation. None had costumes as elaborate as Tom's, but all needed to know their characters and motivations necessary to make their performances as believable as possible. And the extra time helped the incense swirl its way into the deepest, darkest corners of their psyche. Sarah turned abruptly at the sound of a slight cough, her hands automatically but tentatively moving to cover her bare breasts. Phil was in the room with them! Had he seen her and Tom making out on the bed like school kids? Had he seen her sex invaded, with Tom's fingers pushed deep inside her hot, wet pussy? He must have. But he displayed the better part of valor, keeping his face straight and placid. He waited while Sarah belatedly pulled herself into a cross-legged position in front of Tom's engorged crotch and pressed a pillow against her chest. That said pillow left her shaved pussy lips bare to the world and glistening with promise, Phil failed to point out. "The guests have begun to arrive and will be starting the haunted house tour in a few minutes. You'll want to be in the throes of much more explicit action by then," Phil directed. Sarah paled, then blushed. "Phil, I'm not sure I can um, you know, in front of all those people who know me. Tom's face is covered! But they can see mine." You mean you can't be ravaged by a horny demon of Satan in front of all your church-going friends, Phil thought, though he was careful to keep any sign of his irritation off his face. "Don't worry. I've worked out a way to protect everyone's identities. First, the guests are supposed to stay outside the gauze fabric covering the doorway. Next, we're keeping each room relatively dark. There's a couple of lights back there, see, that provide all the illumination. So, the worst that the audience will see is the two of you in silhouette. And the most they'll see is a glimmer of skin, which, if you're acting this out properly, will always be in motion. See? Nothing to worry about." Phil didn't have to wait for her to nod. Her acquiescence had already been indicated. Tom had reached around her waist and was even now lightly stroking her quivering pussy, in sight of a relative stranger and without a word of protest. But now Tom had a concern. "What if I, um, can't hold back and blow my load too early?" he asked directly. "She's the sexiest woman I know." he explained, earning a suggestive nuzzle from his wife. "Right. I almost forgot. I've been giving all the men one of these pills. That should take care of it for the night." "Not a little blue pill?" Tom asked in mock disbelief. "I have some of those at home." "Tom," Phil said patiently, "These pills make Viagra look like a sugar pill. You know how in the commercials they say if you have an erection that lasts more than four days, to see your doctor? Well, with these, if you have an erection that lasts less than two days, they're not working right. And unlike those little blue pills, you can shoot your load over and over again. You never run dry. Ain't chemistry fun?" Of course, he left unsaid the fact that, when combined with the psychotropic in the incense, you could feel compelled to fuck yourself literally to the bone, and have the non-stop erection to make that happen. But Phil didn't think that would happen tonight. Probably. * * * Pulsing, throbbing, pounding. Reality and imagination are separated by only the merest thread of fabric, through which a wisp of either can and does drift through. Neither black nor white nor gray, this neutral zone is anything but. It is a place of possibilities. Of probabilities. And most often, of bacchanalia. * * * Phil casually inspected the female specimen at his side. She was young, just a few days over eighteen. Young, nubile and virginal, though not a virgin. Not technically, having been deflowered two years ago by a fumbling boyfriend on the floor of her bedroom, not 20 feet from the bed where her parents had been securely asleep. But she was still virginal, in that she'd never been taken by a real man, one who wanted her for more than a quickie, one who's very actions and desires would forever spoil her mind. Like most of those who sought him out, even here in the staid Midwest, she was a succulent nibble of femininity. Slim-waisted, thin legged, with firm pert breasts and nipples that were forever erect. Her pussy patch was shaved into a small arrow, pointing down to the soft folds of her pussy, and, if one were to pass over her pearlescent cunt, back up through the valley between her ass cheeks, still firm and muscular with the vitality of youth. He could see all this because she stood beside him clad only in the sheerest of robes, now open and inviting. As did the rest of her nubile compatriots, whom Phil had brought in to make sure his guests would have a very, very good time. She stood on tiptoes and pressed against him, her breasts rubbing along his arm. "Do you want me to suck your cock?" Her breath was warm and inviting, her tone almost begging. He would, of course, be getting more from her than a blowjob. He would be getting her tight hot cunt, and her even tighter truly virginal ass. He would ravage her, in a way that Tom and Sarah could never fathom, and take her and keep her or discard her, as was the way with his kind. But later. First, he must feed. The house thrummed with sexual energy. In every room, the most vile and bewitching carnal acts were being carried out, the participants aware of nothing but the lust compelling them to thrust harder, press deeper, twist tighter, move faster and urgently satisfy a need that could never be quenched, no matter how many gallons of cum was shot onto slick skin or into waiting mouths. Anyone entering the house immediately tasted sex in the air. The atmosphere pulsed with it. The grunts, the groans, the screams and howls echoed down the hallways, both muffled by the soft fabrics and amplified by them. None, however, was as attuned to the outpouring of carnal emotion as Phil. He stood like a man in the incoming tide, leaning against it while daring it to topple him over. He let the energy sweep up into him, through the soles of his feet and his groin, building into a swell that crashed through his chest, leaving him intoxicated and reeling. He drank it in yet thirsted for more. The party was just getting started. Now it was time to push his charges to new heights, even if it meant sending them to new lows. * * * Sarah had her fingers around Tom's cock before Phil had even left the room. Seconds later, she'd been on her knees, sucking on his heavy balls and kissing the underside of his stiff shaft. To hell with the costume and the whole Halloween theme. She just wanted Tom to split open her fevered cunt and wash her walls with his salty cum. "Whoa, there, little lady," Tom moaned, though he wanted it as much as Sarah seemed to. "Let's follow the man's advice and get into character." "I'm in character," she protested, using her tongue to flick one of his balls back and forth. "I'm a maiden. You're a demon. Fuck me now!" "Whatever happened to anticipation and foreplay," he said teasingly, holding her by a tuft of hair and pushing her head away from his crotch. Damn him! Of all the times to remember that she was always lecturing him about taking his time and building up to the moment, he had to pick now to remember it? "Fine!" she said, pouting. "I have to get dressed anyway. And give me the damn book. If you're going to do whatever Mister Phil says, then we might as well do that, too." Getting dressed was a simple as pulling a white cotton summer shift over her head. The bottom was short enough to show the bottom curve of her butt, meeting Tom's approval as he teasingly fondled her bare ass. The top was strapless, held in place with a little elastic and the tops of her tits. It would take no effort at all to pull it down under her rack and push it up past her hips, which is what she hoped Tom would do in the very, very near future. God, she'd never felt so horny in her entire life! After dressing, and giving Tom a vengeful peek at her juice-slicked bare pussy, Sarah opened the book to the Table of Contents. "Hmmm. All about demons. Boring! Demons in everyday life. Boring! Demonic possession. Been there! Trapping a demon. Done that! Hey, here's a good one: Sexual practices - sadistic, perverted and grotesque. That sounds like a good place to start." "The demon," she read, perching on the bed, "is not so much a sexual creature as a cruel creature. He, and they almost invariably personify as males, will use whatever organs or tools necessary to demean, humiliate and subjugate the typical maiden. The sexual positions that a demon selects are likely to be the ones that create the most pain in his victim. Unlubricated anal sex is a particular favorite. Of course, the fact that most demons have two penises provides a greater selection of penetration options than human male/female intercourse." Her eyes grew wide as she turned the page. "Look! There's drawings showing how they like to do it. Like a Kama Sutra for demons. Ohhhhh. I don't think I'm up for trying any of these." The book slid from her grasp, her eyes locking on Tom as he crawled along the bed towards her. His eyes were lost inside the mask, the snout and tusks giving him a cruel, animal demeanor. His chest moved ominously with every breath, and his teeth gleamed in the dim light. She tried to move away, her lust momentarily forgotten, but the bed stand blocked her exit. He reached for her, his hand sliding up her thigh, until two fingers touched and then entered her pussy. She stiffened at the forced invasion, then clamped her legs tight around his hand as the lust returned, doubled and redoubled. From inside the mask, Tom could barely recognize his wife of eight years. This woman, this female, was just something to be controlled. Punished and dominated. Used and discarded. Her very beauty was a mockery of his ugliness. She needed to be taught a lesson! A wave of rage flowed through him, making him gasp at its ferocity. His cock throbbed to a tempo that flowed from the room's very walls. A pulsating tempo that made his cock so stiff it hurt. It hurt! And there was only one way to quench the fire. He wiggled his fingers inside her cunt while taking her mouth with his. It wasn't a kiss. More like a decree of possession. He swept her mouth with his tongue, grinding his teeth against hers, his snout painfully stuck between them, one tusk scraping the side of her face. With three fingers forced inside her, he used his thumb to pull and twist her pussy lips, eliciting a muffled scream of pain and... was it... yes, some terror. Now she was starting to understand. Too late to escape. Too late. With a smack of his clawed hand on her bare ass, he brought her around to a kneeling position. Yes, the position of the dog. The bitch. As they all were bitches. And all needed to be bred. He looked up as he prepared to enter her, looked up to see eyes peering at them from the doorway. Yes! Come see this bitch get fucked, he wanted to say to them. Come see this beautiful woman fornicate with the demon, see her drink his cum and pee, see her dirty herself as only a big titted bitch slut can. He made a motion and the slut pulled her dress off over her head, leaving her exposed, her tits dangling down like cow teats. He liked the thought of that and grasped each one like a farmer would, squeezing and yanking down on each, deaf to her cries and protestations. "Turn on the light!" he cried out as he scrambled back into place behind her, positioning the head of his cock just outside her meaty lips, scored with red marks where he'd twisted the sensitive flesh. He blinked as the lights came on, and then knew that the eyes beyond the fabric could see everything, would witness as he deflowered this maiden and made her part of Satan's own stable of sex toy sluts. With a cry of elation he crammed his cock into her cunt, the wet walls opening to accept him. He grasped her hips violently, his claws marking her flesh and began fucking her so hard her breasts beat a spastic tattoo as they slapped wildly together. Sarah felt a spark of fear fly through her, but it was just as quickly replaced by a wave of lust. The pain of his entry quickly turned into a fire brand of pleasure, emanating from her tortured pussy and out into all her limbs. She tried desperately to stay in place as his cock rocketed in and out of her. His fuck staff felt rough as it penetrated her deeper than ever before. She gasped at the enormity of it, at the way she could feel every ridge as it rasped inside her. She wanted it inside her cunt, inside her ass, inside her mouth, ramming her and desecrating her, fouling her with its unholy power. Despite the pain she longed to have his hands upon her breasts again, his claws pinching her nipples, drawing blood from them as once she'd produced milk from them. She looked up to see faces crowding around, some in grotesque masks, some plain faced and watching with a clinical eye. A couple she thought she should recognize but couldn't, blinded by the lust raging inside her head. She saw a pair of breasts barely enclosed by a tight dress and longed to suckle on them. She saw a pair of pants tenting just in front of her and wanted nothing more than to offer her open holes to the snake inside. A sharp sensation caused her to gasp. Looking down underneath her, two long women's fingernails were pinching her nipples and pulling them painfully down. The pain sent a shock through her, a jolt of electricity that traveled straight from her nipple to her engorged clit, sending an enormous orgasm crashing through her. She cried out in pleasure and pain and anguish, her body wracked by spasms in front of a sea of prying eyes. Naked and exposed, she didn't care what they saw. She, in fact, wanted them to see more of her. Was desperate for them to see more of her. To pry open her pussy lips and inspect her deepest cunt walls. To poke around in her gaping asshole. To grope and squeeze her tits, her legs, her feet, her ass, or any other part of her they wanted to feel. The woman pinched her nipples again and she screeched at the sharp pain, then felt her bowels beginning to let loose. The cock suddenly disappeared from inside her, and with an animal's cry she lifted her leg and squirted pee all over the floor. For a moment the shock and shame burned inside her. She had squirted in front of all these people! Then the cock slammed back inside her and she was back to being a fuck slut, her tits slapping back and forth like manic puppets. Tom had watched the female relieve herself and knew that he'd been the cause. These humans swarmed around them because they saw how powerful he was. Because they were jealous of his power over this slutty bitch. Because they wanted to see what else he could do, would do, to the flesh before him. And he would show them. He would make them wish that they were demons too, with a long line of succulent human flesh waiting to be defiled. Begging for it. Grabbing the bitch by the tits, he dragged her off the bed and onto the floor. She knew enough to get on her knees, and he stood over her, his giant cock still slick with her filthy juices. He gestured with a clawed hand and she dutifully took him in her small mouth, sucking all of him inside like a bitch should. But it still wasn't far enough, so he grabbed her head and slammed his cock all the way in, grunting as he felt his cock head bang against the back of her throat. Something about this seemed familiar, but the thought fled from his mind as he felt his scrotum beginning to tighten. The bitch needed to be marked by his cum, marked in front of all these people. He pulled himself from her mouth and stroked his rod urgently, aiming the head at her face. A stream of hot cum leapt from his cock onto her face, quickly coating it with globs of sperm. Even as he wiped his staff across her face and swept the cum into her mouth, he was already planning how to fuck her ass. And his erection didn't whither in the least. Phil arrived in time to see Sarah dragged to the ground and mouth fucked. The sexual energy crackled through the air and Phil wasted no time in taking it in. All around him, couples were groping and fondling each other, their own lust unleashed by the crazed scene before them. His girls would be very busy all night sating the sexual desires of this crowd. This... this was so much more satisfying than the orgies he arranged for porn movies in California. That was too packaged, like a microwave dinner. You could subsist on it, but it wasn't really enjoyable. This, though, this was like a gourmet meal, prepared by a master chef, with nothing but the freshest ingredients and the finest cuts of meat. He licked the air, tasting the tension and angst and lust. Next to the bed, Tom was desecrating his wife with a load of cum onto her face, in front of all their friends and neighbors. He'd known that these two would be the stars of the night. They'd been so easy to manipulate; an off-hand comment about an adult haunted house that he'd dropped at a Labor Day party had grown into all this. And now, here they were, performing like pro's, her body raked with scratches and splattered with cum, his a sheen of sweat covering powerful muscles. Phil smiled as Tom pulled up the strap-on, positioning it just above his real cock. They'd read the book, then. While on the bed, his lovely wife lay back, legs spread wide, and used her fingers to pull apart her ravaged pussy lips, for all her neighbors to inspect. And his smile grew broader as Tom growled, an animal growl, when one of the men reached out to touch that open cunt. Tom was protective of his prey, as any demon would be. Phil watched her udders bounce softly as she moved about the bed. Maybe he too would enjoy himself with this slut, down in the cellar, away from prying eyes. Then she would find out what it really was like to be defiled by a double cock. And what horrors awaited a woman when visited by a creature of the underworld. But in the meantime he had a feast to enjoy. A whip cracked in another room. A voice howled in pain. A bitch mewled like a punished dog. And Phil Diamond, Hollywood producer, drank in its intoxicating energy. He feasted on the pain and humiliation. And laughed at the pitiful humans who provided his nourishment. A Devil of a Party The End PS. Please vote and/or comment. Happy Halloween!