6 comments/ 53383 views/ 30 favorites Satan's Sluts By: Falcinator Author's note: I could have written this with a more serious tone, but where's the fun in that? This took me about five hours, with breaks for coffee and a bit of pornography. Nothing about this story is meant to be taken seriously, least of all the theology. ## Oh, fuck, yeah, time to try and pull the band! I didn't really know the band. I don't think many people did, really. But I had heard they had a reputation for inviting groupies backstage and piling on the champagne, and they played a pretty decent hardcore Satan-metal rock, so why the fuck not? I had my shiniest nipple rings, no bra, generic demonic grey T-shirt one size too small, my best black panties and the shortest skirt I had. I decided to go girlie, so black sneakers and knee-high socks rounded it out. I just had to score me a rocker. Didn't matter if it was the drummer, if he was good with his cock. I got in, dodged the usual greasy types and grabbed a beer, then angled straight for the front of the mosh pit. I would be moved by superior force, and nothing else. They were the support act, so people were still coming in. I had heard the main act, but didn't like them much and didn't rate my chances of getting laid by the band. Plus, if I scored with the support act, we'd have longer to party. I kept a careful eye on the competition, but it looked like all the other girls were either attached or waiting for the main act. More for me, then. Then they came on stage. What. The. Fuck. I found myself staring, stunned. Everyone did. The music went through my groin without bothering to use my ears first. I wanted to dance, to scream that I loved them, to rip my clothes off and throw my naked body at their feet and beg them to whip me. Who the fuck were these guys? Suddenly, I had competition. Fuck THAT! I elbowed another girl aside as she imploringly shoved herself towards the stage, gave my most piercing wolf-whistle and, jumping up, jerked my T-shirt above my breasts. Before I landed, an arm snaked around me from behind, grabbed the shirt to prevent me pulling it back down over my left tit, and the most sexual voice I've ever heard from a woman said in my ear "You want to go backstage and meet them?" She said she was their manager, and she was so hot even the women were ogling her as she lead me by the hand towards the No Entry door. I mean, she was taller than me, had fantastic legs right up to her armpits, a dress that barely covered her arse and left her huge breasts pretty much out, and just looking at her face made even me feel a bit like turning. The bouncer let us straight through, so I guess she was legit. She left me in a dressing room, gave me a beer, and told me she'd be right back. I wondered if I should strip before the band came backstage. Two minutes later, the manager returned with another girl in tow, and left her with me, saying she'd be back soon. Ah, fuckit. I was hoping I'd get them to myself in a great big orgy with me at the centre of it. The new girl was metal goth, with tons of makeup, fishnet shirt over a black bra and tattered short skirt not much longer than mine, huge leather boots with massive soles and metal toe caps and heels, and torn fishnet stockings and a couple of piercings. We could have been friends, if we'd met anywhere else. She was also staring at me like she wanted to eat me, in the good way. I opened my mouth to tell her I didn't swing that way, when she said "Want to fuck? I want to lick you 'til you cream my chin." I left my mouth open for a minute, then thought well, why not? I slid forward on the couch and hiked my panties down my legs. "Come on, then," I offered. She just about attacked me, grabbing my thighs as she shoved her face in my crotch. I felt so turned on I shoved my crotch back at her when she pushed her tongue straight inside me. Oh, fuck, she had a piercing! When she slid up to my clit and started licking it, the piercing flicked against me with every lash of her tongue. "Oh, fuck me harder, bitch!" I gasped out. That seemed to encourage her, so I said it again. "Fuck me harder, BITCH!" The door opened, and I only cared about that because it might mean the band was back. Instead, the manager swung in and out on those breath-taking legs, leaving us with a punk girl who had even more piercings, a tattered T-shirt over no bra, and ripped jeans. Her eyes lit up. "Hot fucking damn!" she said. "Can I join in?" I yanked my shirt above my breasts. "Suck on these!" I said. She just about poked my eye out on her hair when she latched onto one nipple. Her tongue piercing got caught on my ring, and first she tried to pull it off, then she tried to shake it off, and I wasn't helping because she was pulling my nipple about so much all I could do was claw at the couch and scream something about needing to be fucked until my cunt exploded. When she finally got her piercing free, the snap of my nipple springing loose made me cum and I screamed a lot more. Goth came up from between my legs, and fuck me if I hadn't actually creamed on her chin. I didn't know I could cum. Punk latched onto her chin, sucking hard while they groped at each other's breasts. All I could reach was punk's crotch, so I grabbed that. The door opened again. This time, she just looked like your basic rock chick. She had short black hair, baggy jeans and a black singlet. She didn't have a bra either. A grin split her face. "Whose turn is it next?" she asked. Punk and goth pounced on her, bearing her to the floor. "Yours," goth said, squatting on her, then kissed her. They tried to suck each other's face off while punk worked her jeans and panties down and jammed two fingers straight into her. She squealed into goth's mouth, lifting her hips into punk, who forced a third finger in, grabbed her around the waist to keep her hips off the floor, and started fucking her like she was pounding steak. Goth retrieved her tongue, slid forwards and positioned her hips over rock chick's mouth. "Lick me like you mean it, cum-dumpster!" she said. The way goth started moving, it was like she was sitting on a sybian. I kicked my panties off - no way I was going to be needing them any more - and crawled towards them. I wanted to get goth's bra off and find out how sensitive her nipples were. Then the door opened again. "Hot damn, horny sluts delivered!" This time, it was the band. They had wild looks in their eyes, like the playing hadn't tired them, it had just psyched them up so much they were ready to beat up an off-duty army barracks and then fuck an entire porn studio senseless. I launched myself at the singer, wanting to rip his clothes off and suck all the sweat off his nipples. Punk kept on banging away at the new girl, but she was grinning madly at the band. Goth barely even noticed. The singer grabbed my hair at the back of my head, yanking me away from him so he could grab my tit and squeeze it so hard tears sprang into my eyes. "Ever been a pinata?" He asked as I tried to grind my hips against his. "That's where I chain you to the ceiling and slap you about a bit before drilling you until you scream my name." "Are you going to whip me, too?" I gasped out. The rest of the band walked past us. I heard flies being unzipped, and one of them said. "Get those mouths busy, sluts." There were two lots of eager wet slurping as one of the boys said "Make her good and tender for me, bitch." From the corner of my eye I saw the manager sit on the edge of a table and cross her endless legs, an amused look on her face, as the singer said "Yeah, I might just fucking do that instead of slapping these juicy tits." He put his hand around my throat and walked me backwards to the centre of the room. Suddenly, the manager had materialised behind me and I heard a clank of chains before her hands closed fur-lined manacles around my wrists and then jerked me upwards until I was on tiptoe. When she let go I was hanging, not quite able to stand properly. The singer ripped his T-shirt off, showing an absolutely ripped torso I wanted to suck dry of all his sweat. He opened a case and pulled out a leather flogger with a fat dildo for a handle. "You want some of this, whore?" he asked, running it through his hands. I licked my lips, staring at it. "Whip me red, if you've got the balls." His lips drew back from his teeth in a snarl and he lashed me hard across the breasts. I shrieked, half in pain and half with the fierce joy of it, and he lashed me again, searing pain from my nipples but the throbbing so good I started rubbing my thighs together in a desperate attempt to get off. He lashed my arse, then my back, then started working up and down my body as I hung and writhed with each impact, slowly turning until I could see Punk on hands and knees getting fucked by the machine-like drummer, goth still sitting on rock chick sucking earnestly, one hand around the bassist's cock and the other around his scrotum, and rock chick underneath her getting pounded by the guitarist, who was holding her legs in the air. I was aching and burning all over, and nearly exhausted, by the time he said "Fuck, I'm too hard not to fucking bang you like a cheap whore," and grabbed my hips from behind. He must have dropped the flogger. "Hope you like it up the arse," he panted, "'Cause that's where you're getting it!" I shoved my arse back at him and he jammed his cock in fairly accurately. It felt like he had smeared himself with lube, which was good of him, and the initial stretching pain soon settled down into the most gorgeous feeling of being full as his fingers dug into my hips and he began pounding away like a berserker. The manager stepped up to me, holding the flogger, and somehow managed to ram it into me in one movement, right up so far I felt it slam into my cervix. "See if you can keep that in you," she whispered into my ear before walking away again. "If you let it out, I'll whip your tits bloody with a cane." Oh, fucking hell! Being full front and back made me just about faint as he grunted himself closer to cumming, and I clenched the slippery, tapering handle of the flogger desperately hard, absolutely certain the manager wasn't joking. I could feel it slipping by the time he grunted, came deep up my arse and staggered back, leaving me hanging, gasping, and with just enough of a burst of strength to hold onto the flogger long enough for the manager to yank it out of me, say "Well done, little harlot," kiss me and then say "Open wide, you're going to lick it clean!" I stretched my jaw and tilted my head back, and she worked it in slowly to give me time to take it all down, tasting my tartness on it. She drew it out, reversed the handle in her hand and expertly flicked it across my breasts, catching a stinging lash across both nipples at once. There were gasps, groans and shrieks from behind my back, and I swung around to see the group on the floor disentangle themselves, cum-smeared already. "Refresher, anyone?" The manager asked, solicitously. I swung back to see her pointing to fourteen neat lines of white powder on a glass tabletop. The singer grabbed a rolled-up note from her and took one line up each nostril, the coke making his eyes light up all over again. Oh, fuck yeah, this was going to be a long and hard night, in the good way. Punk took the next two lines, then the drummer, then goth, then the bassist, then the guitarist and finally rock chick. I was feeling a bit left out. "Don't worry," the manager whispered in my ear as she reached around to slide a finger through each nipple ring and pull outwards until I yelped. "We'll let you down eventually." Rock chick staggered up to me, completely naked now, and leaned into me for a tonsil-clearing kiss, grabbing at my crotch and pushing two fingers inside me. I ground against her, my toes curling off the ground, and then felt one of the other girls grab my hips from behind. They licked each other's tonsils over my shoulder, then the guitarist stepped up behind rock chick, grabbed her hips and shoved into her arse. She squealed, next to my ear but muffled, and at the same time I heard the other girl - goth, I think - squeal as well. Suddenly I was the meat in a sandwich, as both girls were slammed into me, the boys getting in perfect sync. I rolled my head and could just see the drummer grab punks' collar and hurl her to the ground, kneeling behind her and lining up as the bassist knelt in front of her. They spit-roast her as rock chick desperately frigged me with her fingers and goth, reaching around, mauled my breasts. The three of us girls came together but the boys kept pounding, and the gasps in my ear got more and more ragged, rock chicks' eyes getting that wild, desperate look of someone who's been pushed too far, but is powerless to do anything and doesn't want to anyway. I was feeling exactly the same way when we all five came together. They staggered away, and I hung exhausted, feeling the strain in my shoulders. The manager stepped up to me, leaned in, squashing my breasts with her considerably bigger ones, and licked out the inside of my mouth as she slowly undid the manacles. I crumpled to the ground, but she grabbed my hair and pulled me upright again, pushing me towards where the guitarist was sprawled on the couch. "If you want to lie down, lie down on him, cum-slut," she suggested. I stumbled, knees shaking and every part of my body crying out for release, but somehow I just wanted to keep going and I crawled on top of him as he held his cock upright. Fucking hell, was it the coke or had they been main-lining Viagra earlier in the night? I settled over him with a gasp, finding enough strength to squeeze him and begin humping. The manager leaned in and poured a trail of small white crystals onto his chest. "Lick that up, whore," she suggested. I didn't even need telling. The taste of the meth mingled with the slightly stale, salty, man-taste of him and seemed to supercharge me, so I began bouncing on him so hard there were slapping noises echoing around the room. It seemed to take an age for us to both cum, and when we finally did I looked up to see rock chick and goth, kneeling and back to back, getting blasted in their mouths by the singer and the bassist. They turned around and kissed, cum dribbling down their chins. I suddenly, desperately wanted some of that. I hadn't had a real cock in my mouth all night, yet. I stumbled over, lay beneath them and they bent down, opening their mouths and letting mingled cum dribble into mine. It tasted fucking marvellous. There were popping and hissing noises around us, and a bottle of beer got pushed into my hand. I sculled it, rinsing out my mouth, and there were cheers from the boys as the three of us finished our bottles together. Another one got pressed into my hand by the bassist, who stood and fondled my tits while I drained that one as well. I don't remember the rest of the evening. # I woke up with a fucker of a headache, lying sprawled face-down on the couch with a head on my arse. I pushed it off, hearing them slump to the floor, and reeled towards the dressing room's en-suite bathroom, the room more drunken than I had been. I threw up violently, dimly realising halfway through that someone was holding my hair back. It turned out to be the manager, who looked like she had just woken up, got dressed and had an army of fucking stylists working on her for two hours. Her dress was redder than I remembered - like fire-engine red - and she had latex boots over her knees and stockings the rest of the way. I tried to remember if she had been wearing them last night, and couldn't. She handed me a bottle of water, and I sculled that. It helped a little bit. Then I looked about the room, and nearly threw up again. Goth was lying in the middle of the floor with purple face, protruding tongue and the bassist's belt around her throat. The bassist was lying next to her in a pool of his own vomit, obviously not breathing any more. The singer and rock-chick looked like they had fallen unconscious while 69ing and suffocated each other, and punk was stretched out next to the coke table, with white-rimmed nostrils and a staring look in her wide-open eyes. The head on my arse had been the drummer, who just looked like his heart had stopped, and the guitarist had bled out from a massive head wound, which had probably been the table he was lying next to. "Fuck," I groaned, "are they all fucking dead?" "Fuck yes," the manager said, calmly. "All except you." She seemed satisfied about that, which first seemed really weird and then seemed really frightening. "What's going to happen?" I gasped. I suddenly realised I was still naked. "Well," she said brightly, "you have two options. You can stay here and get seriously arrested, or you can come with me and owe me one." I didn't really think I had a choice, at that point. "Where?" I asked dully. She opened a door I fucking swear hadn't been there, and said "This way, don't worry about clothes, you won't be needing any." I went. There didn't seem much point in doing anything else. I nearly jumped out of my fucking skin when I found the band and the other three girls, all naked, and all milling around in confusion like they were still fucking alive. I turned around, but the door wasn't there. There was a red glow and a bit of a flicker to the light, and a faintly sulphurous smell in the air. I thought the flicker might be just my head, but then I suddenly realised I was stone-cold sober. The singer saw the manager. "What the fuck's going on?" he demanded. Suddenly, a voice that made me want to gorge myself on cheesecake while getting fucked in the middle of a night club said "I should have thought that was obvious, to a clever boy like you." The way he said "clever" made me want to punch someone while riding his cock, but it also sounded kind of sarcastic. We all turned. Of course we did. He looked like a male model who could charge more to appear in a porno than women could, and he was lounging carelessly on what looked like a fucking throne. I seriously wanted his fucking throne. While he was licking me out. The singer looked like he wanted to throttle him, but I don't know if there would be sex involved as well. "Hey!" the singer shouted. "You told us we'd be fucking rock stars until the day we fucking died! That was one fucking night, you piece of shit!" The gorgeous man in the throne laughed, unpleasantly, but it still made me want to fuck every man here, and fuck it, they'd want to, wouldn't they, it's not like the other three were as good a lay as me. "And you all enjoyed yourself so much in that little party last night your lives ended. Now you're mine, ipso facto. Pay up." I could see a dawning realisation on the band members' faces, and I felt a chilly feeling that no, I wasn't hallucinating or dreaming and yes, I knew what was going on as well. But damn, the devil was hot. "Hey," the singer protested. "You have to give us a chance, right? We challenge you, like, to a battle of the bands!" The devil roared with laughter. I wanted to grind my pussy in his face. "I'm Satan! I don't have to do anything! You signed the contracts, you accepted the conditions, you took your reward and then you were so fucking stupid you died after one fucking night! I don't owe you fucks the time of day!" "What about us, then?" goth burst out, looking like she wanted to lay about her with sharp knives. "We weren't part of the deal!" The devil looked at her incredulously. "You? You all three of you fornicated, with women as well as men, took hard drugs, and died. What makes you think you have any choice, hope or recourse to appeal? You're all mine now!" Satan's Sluts Ch. 02 II: Meeting Master Author's note: This sequel was never intended to happen, but what the hell, it was too much fun to ignore! ================= I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my new chambers and stretched upwards, curling my fingers towards the ceiling and then pushing them until my shoulders almost popped, my ribs shifted, my spine cracked and then I rose onto my toes until my calves clenched and a feeling of deliciousness trickled through my entire body and pooled in my huge new tits and my apparently constantly wet cunt. Oooooh, yeahhhhhhhh. Oh, fuck I was gorgeous. I looked hotter than a porn star but a lot more real. I had always been skinny, but on the other hand had never really needed to wear a bra. Now I didn't need to wear a bra, but only because they were so fucking firm that they were always in the right shape. I dropped back onto my heels and grabbed my tits, far more than a handful each, and squeezed. The feeling shot straight to my cunt and made me want to go and find someone and fuck them until they were a drooling, unconscious mess. Which was kind of odd, because normally that feeling would just make me masturbate then and there until I squirted, then go and see if I could go and find somebody to keep me going. I guess that came from being Lust now, not just a nymphomaniac. I looked at myself again, and wished away my horns (they vanished - not shrinking, not going out with a pop, just cleanly weren't there) and my tail (ditto) and my wide, satiny black wings (which surprised me by folding up, then again, then again, and then weren't there. Huh). I bent over backwards, stretching, until I could grab my ankles. It felt even better, and I felt fluid running down my inner thighs. I also saw, while bent over, a fat-bellied, bandy-legged, goat-hoofed, big-horned demon squatting in my doorway using both hands to wank a grotesquely extended cock. I straightened up and turned around, feeling hair tickling my arse as it swished behind me. The demon leered at me. "You want a good fucking, Mistress?" it asked, through a mouthful of crooked teeth. I smiled sweetly at it, but I felt no attraction to mere demons - I needed either my father Satan himself, or humans to corrupt. Fucking the corrupted didn't help us win the eternal battle, now did it? "No," I whispered. "Go back and bugger a soul." It screamed with frustration but was gone, rushing away without really using either its wings or legs to move, fucking with physics as well as the damned. Watching too closely might give even my old body a migraine. I turned back to the mirror, and had to remind myself not to stand there and wank, I looked so fucking edible. I needed clothes, I suppose. Long slinky red dress? I've always wanted to be able to wear a long, slinky red dress and make it look awesome. Nah, not awesome enough. I was the personification of lust, now. I needed to be a bit more ... blatant about it. Blatant. Yes. And how could lust be more sinful than perverted lust? I grinned at myself in the mirror and imagined leather boots up to mid thigh, and gave them 5" heels. I imagined a corset that squeezed my waist by half and came up to just underneath my boobs. I imagined rings through both nipples - this new body had abandoned my old nipple rings, but I had always fucking loved those, it was like being constantly on the verge of horny. I put a chain between the rings. I gave myself a collar with 1" spikes, and leather gloves up to over my elbows. I debated what to wear on my bottoms for a while, then grinned at myself, and added a wide belt above my hips, with chains down to suspender hooks on the boots, and left my cunt completely bare. At the last moment, I remembered to put a ring through my clit, as well. A mask and a riding crop completed the look. I smirked at myself, pivoted and stalked out the door, my heels sounding like gunshots on whatever demonic substance the floor was. It was time for my first proper meeting with daddy. I knew I could simply transport myself there - don't ask me how I knew, I just knew - but I felt like walking. When I stepped outside my door, I bumped right into Sheeba again. She grinned at me, giving off waves of avaricious greed, making me, just a little, want to tie her up in my room and keep her all for myself while whipping her breasts red and drinking from her cunt. "Ah, there you are! Settling right in, I see. Off to see Lucifer?" "Yes," I said, drawing out the sibilant to make it more sensual. I oozed up against her, fitting myself along the curves of her body, and dropped one hand to seize and squeeze the mound of her pussy inside her pencil skirt. "Can I convince you to distract me?" She grinned back at me, nose to nose. "No," she said. "I told you, we don't work on each other. I'm greed, I don't have to care about sex." "But you could." "Yes, but it wouldn't be for my sake, it'd be for yours." "Isn't it possible to sin twice at once?" "I can see you're going to fit in nicely. But, I have an appointment to keep, and a point to make." I shrugged, which made my breast move, which made hers move but, because she was wearing clothes, not very much. "Fair enough." I straightened up and, just for the sake of it, whapped her across the arse with my riding crop. She grinned at me, and said "I'm so glad you agreed to joining us, Lucifer's libido has been making life so busy for the rest of us." "That just sounds like I won't have any time to do my job." "Oh no - sex with you is worth more than sex with the rest of us." I oozed against her again. "I could give you some pointers." "It's not technique, darling." I gave up, but didn't feel frustrated. I could tell there was much more waiting for me. I flicked her on one nipple with my riding crop, eliciting a satisfying yelp, and stalked off. Hell opened out before me. We, the sins, lived in excessively opulent apartments (Glutony did the decorating, she's not just about food) in a ring around a shared living area and kitchen (we were all girls, after all). The doors each had a label in gothic script - not a name, the label. Greed - Sheeba - was next to me. The others, marching around the ring, read "Gluttony", "Sloth", "Wrath", "Envy" and "Pride". I'm not sure I wanted to meet all of them, exactly, but I felt I could get along with gluttony, who spent most of her time grotesquely fat and lying in a sedan chair carried on the shoulders of four souls whose crime in life had been to pursue bodybuilding to the exclusion of their families. There was one more door, which looked just like the other doors, but read "Damnation" instead. I took it. The door opened onto a walkway, arching high above the pit of Hell, from which rose the roaring of fires, the cackling of punishing demons, the screams and sobs and entreaties of the damned, waves of alternating furnace-blast heat and absolute chill, and a cunt-clenching, stomach-tightening, knee-weakening wave of energy my body experienced as lust. I gasped, clutching at the spikily worked metal of the railing, and managed to not jam the handle of the riding crop far up inside myself. I shivered and managed to compose myself and stand up. Oh man, if this was going to be my future, I couldn't wait to get there! The other side of the walkway ended at the tall, impossibly thin tower soaring up through the middle of the pit of Hell. Our apartments were on the top of a sub-tower branching out so far below I could barely see it, yet still impossibly high above the floor. I marched to the other end of the walkway and stepped through the arched doors straight into a well-equipped dungeon, and felt a surge of pure damned-soul energy that really did drive me to my knees. All around me were souls being raped, or whipped, or forced through demonic powers of compulsion to engage in every sexual act the endlessly inventive human mind could dream up, and I felt the power of all that perversion feed straight into my new demonic soul and OH FUCK YEAH. A woman being fucked in the arse and cunt simultaneously by the one demon, looked at me and went from crying because she was suffering to crying because she suddenly, desperately wanted it and knew she was being forced to want it, and hated herself while pushing back against both huge cocks. A hugely muscular man, his body forced to robotically fuck another man who looked like his brother (in arms), looked at me and his desires overrode his deeply ingrained, literally murderous, loathing of homosexuals and he began fucking harder, while the man on bottom pushed back at him and they both struggled to not throw up A lesbian woman being whipped savagely across her buttocks, and wriggling frantically atop a gay man who was securely tied down and was screaming in disgust at the heterosexual act, began to orgasm every time the whip landed. The man underneath her began to cum inside her, while crying at his own weakness. A man howling in pain as his cock was caned, began cumming in long, ropey, endless spurts that quickly became painful, and then worse. A woman strapped into a crucifix shape while a dog-headed demon sloppily ate her out, entered one long, continuous orgasm. A woman flailing ineffectually against a huge demon who was holding her tightly against his chest while fucking her with a painfully huge cock, wrapped her arms and legs backwards around him and began fucking back. I felt my influence hit every single human soul and twist their desires, and oh my fucking god, no drug I had ever taken had ever felt this fucking good! "Jesus!" I gasped as my knees buckled and I landed on the floor. Then I remembered where I was and was afraid, for one frantic second, that I was going to be hurled into the ranks of the damned. But there was a warm chuckle, as heady as whiskey and as sweet as honey, and He said "Blasphemy is encouraged, here. Welcome to your new existence as one of my delicious sluts." He was - there really is no way around saying this - devilishly handsome as he stood in the middle of the room, in a way that would not only make women consider leaving their husbands, but would make straight men reconsider their choices. The first time I had seen him, I had wanted to smash my cunt into his face while gorging on chocolate, or kill with bare hands any women who got between me and him, or take three men at once so long as he as one of them. This time, I just felt my existing arousal spike, but not out of control. It was almost, for one second, a disappointing reaction. I stood up again and turned to face him, spreading my legs so he could see my swollen, glistening lips. "One of your sluts, eh?" I purred, stepping towards him and running my hand down his bare, gleaming, perfectly sculpted pectorals and abs. "You immoral pimp, you. I do hope you don't intend to keep me here all the time!" He smiled back, which made my cunt tell my brain in no uncertain terms that this man, right here, was the very reason for its existence and could we get on with it, please? "Of course I won't," he replied in a voice that trailed feathers down every inch of my skin exposed or otherwise, and toyed playfully with my nipples and clitoris while lapping gently between my lips. I shivered, and leaned into him, pressing my breasts into his chest while one leg rose of its own volition and my thigh slid up his, over his hip and onto his waist, my calf twisting to hold me in place by pressing between his tight, manly, dreamily perfect buttocks. "You have so many jobs to do," he continued, putting his hands on my shoulders and sliding them down my back, over my corset and onto my arse, which he clenched, nails digging in with delicious pain. "You'll be run off your feet. Not that you'll be on your feet much." His voice made even my head swim, my hips mashing into his of their own accord, my hands curling into claws on his upper chest. My head darted forwards and I sank my teeth into the perfect band of muscle between his shoulder and his neck, almost but not quite puncturing the skin. He didn't even seem to notice, but one finger on my arse moved sideways and pressed against my anus, which opened for him. "What's my first job?" I growled into his neck as I moved my teeth sideways and thought them pointy, digging in hard, this time rewarded by a spurt of warm, intoxicating blood. "Me," he growled, "I haven't had my cock in a Lust for a year now." "It took you that long to find me?" I gasped out as I pulled far enough back to grab his leather pants (they were made from layers of tanned human skin, and were astonishingly soft and erotically sensuous) and ripped them off him in one movement. It was only for show, he could have vanished them instantly, but I wanted to do it. "No," he said as I grabbed his humongous balls in one hand and started pulling him towards the side of the room, where the sinners were, "Two candidates refused before you. One of them is over there, being raped by three demons with spines on their cocks." I had to laugh, long and loudly and above all gloatingly. Chained to the wall, a gay man who had spent his life insulting women as breeders, dirty whores and only good for shelling out babies, was being tickles and teased and licked and sucked by two demons who had taken the form of nubile, adolescent-fantasy teenage blondes. They moved sideways as I approached, responding without asking to my intentions, and began suckling on his nipples as I reached behind me, grabbed his cock, which was swollen and purple from a too-small ring at its base, and pushed my pussy over it before bending over, grabbing Satan's cock and stretching my lips around his fat, flared head. He grabbed my head in both hands, hooking his fingers under my jaw, and began fucking my face. He was so huge my throat had to stretch around him but this body had no problems with stretching, or gagging, or even breathing. My mouth and throat may as well have been another cunt, with with more agile lips, and a tongue, and teeth to bite him for added stimulation. Instead of moving himself, he moved me, pulling me forwards and back so when I went down over him, I pulled off the sinner, and when he pushed me off his cock, I buried the sinner up to the hilt in me. That wasn't nearly enough for me to do justice to Satan's length, so I started bending in the middle to get more action on his cock. The sinner was crying so hard some of his tears got past the two demons attached to his tits and landed on my arse like the best, most delicious massage oil. I grabbed Satan's hips and used them to help move my body, building up speed so I could fuck both cocks properly. The gay in my pussy came first, helpless against my powers, and I kept fucking him, making him scream with agony from the amount of sensation I could deliver to his over-sensitive cock. I began to get impatient for Satan's cum, when his voice in my head said "Anything you wish, my dear." I had that much warning before, as I was right down over the gay, Satan's head just in my lips, he exploded in me so hard I thought I'd be driven through the sinner, and the wall behind. His cum filled my mouth and shot straight down my throat into my stomach. I thought I'd blow up like a balloon - not impossible for me now - but it was only a passing sensation. After the initial explosion he spurted a couple more times, then pulled out of me and stepped back while I collapsed onto the floor saying something like "Grgbllllthpggrrnnnnuuugggg". The taste of him felt like a combination of every good acid, speed and heroin trip I had ever had, layered on the best roaring drunk, layered on having multiple orgasms because I'm in the middle of an orgy with a dick in every hole and a vibrator on my clit, layered on top of the speed rush of being in the passenger seat of a car doing 120 through town, layered on top of that one time I went skydiving and, falling at terminal velocity strapped to the front of a guy, pulled my suit open so his buddy with the camera on his head could film my tits which were getting blasted by air at 200 or 300 or something and minus that many degrees. "Okay?" Satan asked, suavely, his voice fiddling around inside me so my hips spasmed again. "OHFUCKINGSWEETJESUSCHRISTMOTHERFUCKINGGODFUCK!" Then enough sanity returned to me to remember who I was, what I now was. I rose from the floor like an avenging demon and grabbed both his nipples, pushing him back, flying over the floor until he slammed against the wall, rose up and impaled myself upon him, taking his unnatural size easily and searing myself across his consciousness as my tongue slid halfway down his throat (I'm not exaggerating, it's not a metaphor, I really did that. All of it. Yes, including the tongue). I started fucking him so fast my hips blurred to human vision, as my tongue slithered inside his mouth and his throat which (he was Satan, after all, built for all the sins) knew how to take something fucking it. The souls and demons around us exploded in lust, ripping into each other, doing everything they possibly could to get sexual stimulation, demon flesh overriding the design limits of human flesh but nobody caring and besides, they were souls, they healed instantly anyway, ready for the next hard fucking. The next time Satan exploded inside me, I took that insane chemical rush and rode it, being Lust, taking control and feeding it back into him. I made him bend me over his throne and fuck my arse violently. I made him submit as I fisted his arse. I made him go down on me and slide a cock-thick tongue up inside, wriggling it around until I came hard enough to shatter the eardrums of all the souls in the room. I drove him until he got satiated first. "Do I pass?" I asked him, as we stood in the middle of a room strewn with broken demons and souls driven insane. He was still erect, but only because that's his natural state. "Yes," he said, for the very first time sounding as though he wasn't trying to play games with a girls head. "You pass." "Then tell me what my first job is," I said, my voice sliding over his skin to tickle and fondle every ridge of muscle and line of vein, "and send me out to harvest souls." Satan's Sluts Ch. 03 Author's note: This is the third in a series (I know, weird, right?) so go and read the others first. Although it's not like they're essential. There's not that much plot here. ========== I waggled my glass. It was instantly refilled with champagne. I sat back and re-crossed my legs, making 20 pairs of eyes lock onto me. I smiled as I took a sip while looking around the club. Unlife was being good to me, so far. After my truly epic fuck with Satan, I had come back to Earth armed with a guaranteed entry to any venue I cared to name, my new body (with flame-red hair, I thought it was appropriate), and an unbelievable shimmering black silk fuck-me dress. What Sheeba - aka Greed, aka Avarice - had told me when I agreed to become Lust was substantially correct. All the real work gets done by demons slaving away, while we, the personifications of sins, just have to embody. It's why we have to be human - demons can't truly understand sin, it's like asking a fish to understand drowning. Hell needs humans to remind it what sin is, compared to the alternative. So Greed is currently mistress to a succession of hedge fund managers, Sloth is hanging around in gaming forums, Envy is a motivational speaker ... you get the idea. So what's a girl to do when she's just become Lust and the world is so full of sexualisation it doesn't look like there's any need for her services? I mean, apart from give a smouldering look to a young boy who is about to be beaten up by bouncers if he doesn't stop trying to get past the rope to see me? Well, here's the thing. Just having sex doesn't get you a guaranteed ticket down below. Oh, no. It upstairs, who still mostly runs the show, has this whole forgiveness thing going on, you see. It's infuriating, but true. Have casual sex a couple of times while young - you can get out of that. Break your marriage vows - if you repent immediately, you can work your way back from that. Contraception? It's even willing to let that slide, there are so many fucking humans now. Even kinks aren't an automatic ticket down, any more. You really have to be perverted, or combine sins - as much sex as your can get, to the point of gluttony, say, or violent kinks. Hell, a loving couple in an open relationship can fuck around and get let off. Single man goes to brothels? So what, if he treats the girls right. Deliberately killing someone while fucking them? Yeah, that'll do it. But on the other hand, if getting people to damn themselves was easy, it wouldn't be much fun now, would it? I cast my eyes around the club again. The roped-off section I was sitting in was attracting envious, eager and jealous glances. A few looks directed at me contained pure, venomous hate. I drank it all up. It was all grist to our Satanic mills. A party appeared in the distance, striding towards us with a get-out-of-our-way-or-you-will-be-violently-beaten-out-back attitude that was immediately effective at clearing the floor. I took another sip and sat up straighter, arranging myself for maximum effect. The rope was immediately unclipped. The bodyguards arranged themselves on the outside of the rope, one inside staying close to The Boss. The Boss sat down opposite me. He was good at what he did. So good he didn't look at my legs or my mostly-exposed tits. He didn't even look at my lips as I took a suggestive sip of my champagne. I didn't really try to entice him. He was so far damned already that I spared my efforts for other people. "So you're the procurer Jason thought was so good." He had a don't-fuck-with-me voice that dripped professional distrust. "My name," I purred in a voice that carried despite the background cacophony, "is Ravenswood." It wasn't, but what's the point in total reinvention if it's not total? He gave me a hard stare. "I can get you thrown out in a very unpleasant manner if you don't answer my question." "You can find another procurer if you aren't prepared to conduct business in a civilised fashion," I told him, uncrossing my legs and smoothing down what there was of my dress below my hips. It was a movement that could, equally easily, be a casual shifting of position or the prelude to standing up, and he knew it. We both knew he would look bad if I stood up and he had to call me back, while we both also knew I would not look good if he ordered me to sit down and I obeyed. In the careful game of manoeuvring of social perceptions, the best we could achieve would be a mutual negative. I knew he wouldn't tolerate that, and he knew I wouldn't tolerate it if I was as good as he had been told I was. But if I wasn't good enough to have the confidence to threaten a move like that, I wasn't good enough. And if I was as good as he had been told, he wanted too use my services. He sat back lazily, trying to make it look as though he were in complete control and probably fooling himself. "I have to know who I'm dealing with." I arched an eyebrow. He still didn't, of course. He had no idea I was a genuine bitch from hell, whereas I knew exactly who he was. "You're dealing with a professional," I told him. I was tempted to add something sharp, but restrained myself. He gave me a look carefully designed to be calculating and sceptical at the same time. At that moment, his two sons came in, strutting through the opened rope with the sullen arrogance of small children who have been told they have to behave and listen to daddy. I glanced at them briefly. "How about a free sample?" Boss's eyes glittered. "Sure. My older boy, Kristof, likes leggy blondes with big tits, doesn't care how they got them. My younger boy, Stefan, likes them a bit of ethnic, know what I mean? And tiny. Nothing bigger than 100 pounds." I gave him a steady look, avoiding with an effort giving him a witheringly contemptuous look at the use of the adjective "ethnic", then followed it with a professional smile. "Wait here," I said, taking my purse and standing up. "I may be long enough to properly vet applicants." I'll give Big Boss his due - he wasn't looking at my legs or my arse as I walked away. He had lots of self-control. If he had tried, he could have avoided an appointment with my friends below. His sons, now - their damnation counters were ticking up with every shift of my body inside - or outside - my dress. Their stares were getting me hot and wet as steadily as it was damning them. I walked with the absolutely self-assured stalk of someone who is too important for anyone to try and pick up, and too important to bother with saying things like "please," "thank you," and "open the rope." The bouncer on duty had to jump to avoid making me slow down. But as I walked I kept my gaze scanning the crowd with the calculating, assessing, seeking look of someone who may just tap you on the shoulder and offer you a chance at stardom. Or, in this circumstance, a chance at being a mobster's fuck and maybe getting a few glasses of Cristal and several lines of coke out of it. The reasons why you have sex are more important, for our purposes, than how, when, or with whom. Leggy blondes were so common I could have closed my eyes and pointed. Big tits weren't in fashion any more, and there were a lot wearing loose things that revealed the fact there wasn't a bra underneath the fabric. But there were still plenty of implants and even a few big naturals strutting about. A tiny "ethnic", however, would be a little more interesting. There were a few, but the latinos tended to be on the heavier side, which meant I would probably find someone Italian or Greek. Even better, would be two friends, which would save me a little time. Then I spotted them spotting me. Perfect. Blonde's hips nearly came up to "ethnic"'s tits, and was showing even more leg than I was. Her friend showed Grecian features, olive skin that looked a lot more natural than blonde's tan, and so waif-like her head was nearly smaller than blonde's tits. I gave them a quick but definite smile with a hint of come-hither in it before I changed course to the bathroom. There were, of course, several women in the bathroom - chatting, doing make-up and even using the toilets. I put a gentle little compulsion over the entire club. Nobody except my two targets came in, and those who were in, left quickly without realising why. I was redoing my lipstick when they came in, blinking in surprise to see the bathroom so empty. I gave them a lazy smile, through the mirror. They both swallowed. The shorter, Grecian one, spoke first. I thought she would. Women that small were usually more assertive and aggressive, when needed. I should know - I used to be one. "I'm Nikoleta. My friend is Kourtney." I could hear the 'K'. Both of them. "You're procuring for the Boss," Nikoleta said. I was impressed. That was smarter - or at least more perceptive - than I had expected. She had jumped past several layers of association and arrived at the right answer in one leap. "So what does that mean to you?" I asked, examining my lips in the mirror, turning my head critically - away from them - to examine my cheeks. "We want in," she said bluntly, while Kourtney nearly flushed with embarrassment before remembering she was supposed to be shit hot, and poked her tits out. "Want in to what?" I asked flatly, my voice brooking no idiots. "We want in to his crew," Nikoleta said bluntly, her voice with the hard edge of the truly committed, assertive, ambitious, social climber. "So we'll take his crew in to us if we have to." I could tell that she almost said "if you see what I mean," then pulled herself up short. It made me almost sorry I was damning her soul to hell. But hey, it's not like a damned soul couldn't still grab an opportunity and join the staff, hey? I mean, I was proof. Besides, this was criminally easy. I didn't even have to try. I turned around, resting one hand on the sink and the other on my hip, which I cocked out. "And I'm expected to just say yes? Take a chance on you? Just like that? I didn't get to this position by being nice and not checking resumes, girls." Kourtney wilted slightly, but Nikoleta stared at me for a few seconds before slowly licking her lips. That's my girl. I leaned back against the sink, pulling the bottom of my dress up so I could lift one foot up onto the counter top. One guess whether I'm wearing any underwear at all. Kourtney froze briefly, but Nikoleta just went straight in. I cheated a little, and peeked at her mind. She wasn't bisexual so much as she was completely ambivalent to the sex, gender, shape or anything else of any sexual partner, so long as they could advance her own agenda. This didn't count as corruption - there was nothing I could do to her that would make her damnation any more certain. All I was doing was offering her the opportunity to confirm a pre-booking. I almost felt sorry about Kourtney, in comparison, but then remembered that she was choosing to be Nikoleta's friend. Nikoleta knelt in front of me, so easily I wondered how her knees didn't look calloused. She took one of my legs in each hand, and leaned in to get me nice and wet. I didn't start moaning or murmuring encouragement. It's a power thing. Forcing someone to pleasure you shows your power. But letting them pleasure you shows their power. You're only allowed to take pleasure unless you're truly forcing them. You have to be ambivalent even if you're cumming. I was pretty sure Nikoleta would take my lack of response as a challenge, and I was right. Her tongue was a good length, and drilled inside me. I laid a mental bet on how long it would be before she started using her fingers, and got it almost right. All the time, my eyes were boring into Kourtney, who had frozen. She wasn't bisexual. She was a lipstick lesbian who had even progressed to tits-out snogging and, once, sucking nipples, but only because there were boys to get horny. She had only sucked nipples because she was being fucked and they put her head in place and it made them fuck her harder. But there were no boys in here. I stared her a challenge as Nikoleta, not managing to make me moan, pushed two fingers inside my thoroughly saliva-slicked cunt while her tongue travelled up to my very obvious clit. Without taking my eyes off Kourtney - without even blinking - I shrugged my dress off my shoulders and pulled my arms out so I could push it past my waist. I didn't hypnotise Kourtney, although it was entirely within my power to do so. I might have hypnotised Nikoleta if it was necessary - which it was unlikely to ever be - but hypnosis removes free will, and free will is essential to damnation. Kourtney needed to make her own decision. She decided. The smoky look returned to her face. She stalked towards me with her feet crossing so her hips shot from side to side. She was way overdoing the smoky, but since she usually dealt with horny men, she had probably never been told she needed to tone it down. I grabbed the back of her head, holding on a little too hard as I pulled her into an open-mouthed, tongue-in, dominating and demanding kiss. Kourtney responded in kind, one hand going to my exposed breast and squeezing it aggressively. Nikoleta was hard at work, and she was talented. I was allowing myself to ride the edge of cumming without making it too obvious. I was squeezing her fingers but not quivering, or gasping, or humping back, although my clit was as hard as any woman's ever had been. Kourtney's fingers found my nipple and squeezed. I squeezed the back of her neck, making her gasp against my mouth. I half laughed at her, half purred in encouragement, then pushed her head roughly down. She engulfed the tip of my breast with no real subtlety but plenty of enthusiasm, and her other fingers kept kneading my nipple aggressively enough to hurt, which felt extremely good to this body I had built myself. I had always loved playing with plugs, clamps and cuffs while I was still alive. As a personification of sin? There was nothing you could do to this flesh that I couldn't get off from. I almost let them know how much I was enjoying this, but that wasn't my plan. I let an orgasm roll through my mind without touching my body. Nikoleta was going crazy with her tongue, had added a third finger and was seriously considering her whole hand. She was going at me the way I knew she had sex with everyone - with deliberate intent to get them off, not because she was enjoying herself. I began to wonder if she would make a good recruit and I should just take her tonight. But no. There was more damning to be done. I casually pushed Kourtney away, and took my leg off the counter. Nikoleta, caught completely off balance, half fell backwards before managing to catch herself. "You'll do," I said dismissively as I turned back to the mirror to rearrange my dress. "Clean up." Nikoleta scrambled to her feet, adjusting her skirt - what there was of it - and keeping her fury at the way I had treated her out of her eyes. After all, it was what she could expect from the Boss and his crew, so she had to be able to take it. "We're in?" Kourtney asked, a little too eagerly. "Don't mess it up," I said, making my hard voice enough to cut diamonds. "I'm taking you behind the rope so you can be fucked, clear?" "Oh, we're good with that," Nikoleta said, her voice absolutely level. Even Kourtney was now looking eager. The girl may have been nervous around me, but her appetite for dick was absolutely going to guarantee her a ticket down below. I let them bear the full weight of my special diamond stare. Nikoleta tried to return it. Kourtney just tried to bear it. I turned my attention back to the mirror. "You'll be getting fucked like the worthless, bimbo sluts you are, by the Boss's sons." I hardly even needed my powers to feel Nikoleta's lust for power. Kourtney breathed "Oh, wow!" Neither complained about being called "worthless, bimbo sluts", which just made me even less guilty about introducing them to a fast ticket to damnation. I finished adjusting my makeup and dress, giving them plenty of time to have second thoughts, before I turned around. "Behave yourselves," I said sharply as I walked out of the bathroom. They fell into line behind me. They managed not to strut too arrogantly after me. Kourtney was smug and gloating but knew her place, and Nikoleta realised she couldn't hope to match my arrogant strut so she cut her losses and didn't try. The bodyguard opened the rope for us without me needing to acknowledge his presence. The curtains had been half drawn, so there could be sex inside the booth without making it too obvious. Of course, it had to be a little visible, or what was the point of being the Boss? His sons glanced up sulkily and restlessly, then spotted the girls stepping obediently after me. Their lust lit up my demonic senses like searchlights. The girls immediately put on their best look-at-me-don't-you-want-me-oh-yes-you-do poses. The Big Boss was not impressed. Self-control like that was how he had come to be the Big Boss. His sons, however, immediately countered with their best I'm-so-macho-you-can't-control-yourself-so-come-here-I-command-you poses. The girls could tell who was looking at whom. Nikoleta slutted aggressively, going straight to Stefan and straddling his lap while his hands weren't sure whether to grope her tits or her arse. She started kissing him with regulation please-shove-your-tongue-down-my-throat open mouth while shimmying a bit. Kourtney did that fake demure thing that pissed me off when I was human, stalking to Kristof with a "who, me?" attempt at coquettishness. His hands grabbed her legs, pulling her between his so he could grope her properly. She started purring at him and massaging her massive tits as his hands pushed the belt she called a skirt up to expose her lace panties, pull them to one side, and start fondling her cunt lips. Luckily, she had been looking forward to this, and was already wet. He leered at her. "Take your top off." Nikoleta, no surprise, had not been wearing panties. Stefan clearly prided himself on his abilities with women, and she was currently faking more arousal than she felt, with his fingers too busy inside her. What the hell. They had made their beds. This was technically cheating, but it no longer invalidated the result. I pushed up Nikoleta's responsiveness. Her eyes revealed her shock at her sudden reaction, but she hid it nicely and just started grinding back against his hand even harder. "Oh yeah, like that don't you, slut?" He sneered at her. I felt her exasperation with his tone, but he was right, she was liking that. Kourtney felt a flash of almost panic when she was told to take her top off, but she was horny enough for that to override any remaining timidity she might have felt. Her top barely concealed a bra - she could never have managed to get away with breasts that size without some sort of active support - and she didn't wait to be told to pull that off. His hands went straight to her enormous globes, using them to pull her forwards until he could smash his face between them. Nikoleta came with a small shriek, her tiny body jerking wildly on a couple of thick fingers. "Turn around," Stefan growled. "Your arse can take me, can't it, bitch?" Nikoleta was now horny enough to override even her lust for power. She turned around eagerly, bending forward and stretching her buttocks apart as he casually - got to maintain the illusion of authority - undid his pants. Kourtney was rubbing her breasts against Kristof's head. He pushed her backwards, spread his legs, and pushed his hips forward on the couch. He chuckled as she eagerly dropped to her knees to unzip his pants. Satan's Sluts Ch. 03 I peeked into the sons' heads. Yep. They had both taken Viagra before entering the club. Stay classy, boys. Kourtney deep-throated without any warmup at all, which impressed even me, then pulled off him, leaving him properly wet with her saliva, to squash her tits around his cock. She had read him well. Nikoleta was working herself down around Stefan's cock, after using some of her own cum to lubricate him. He was fat, but she was already well experienced at taking it up the arse from boys with big sports cars and expense accounts, and it was getting to her far more than she had ever experienced, thanks to my little tweak. I was honestly surprised that she managed it, but she got him right up her. He jerked her boob tube down, letting her small but quite nicely shaped breasts pop out so he could reach around and fondle them properly. Nikoleta was leaned forwards, hands on Stefan's thighs to support herself as she began fucking his cock with her arse, gasping and face flushed from her own arousal, as he began toying with her nipples. She began shuddering. Normally, she wouldn't be able to cum from that - not without at least some stimulation to her pussy. But I cheekily added a little feedback. Her eyes nearly bugged out and she began fucking him more earnestly. Kourtney was eagerly working her tits up and down Kristof's cock, as he groaned his way towards cumming. At least Stefan had made Nikoleta cum before he got his. Speaking of which - her eagerness, and how much she was responding, had overwhelmed his normal self-control and the veins were bugging out on his neck as he neared his orgasm with her frantically working her way towards her second. I took another sip of champagne. My eyes, if not my attention or my vision, were steadily on the Big Boss. Kourtney, judging Kristof perfectly, pulled away from his cock and plunged her mouth over it in time to catch and swallow all of his cum. Nikoleta and Stefan came almost together. Kourtney looked up at Kristof, licking her lips slowly. I raised one perfect eyebrow at the Big Boss, who grunted. "Boys!" He growled. "Get out of here. Take those whores with you." Kourtney smoothly zipped up Kristof after another quick kiss on the head of his cock. Nikoleta pulled off with a gasp, stumbling as she found her feet. "I have a party coming up," the Big Boss said. "I'll need 30 like them." The boys marched out, pulling the girls roughly after them. Treating them like paid, subservient whores, not like girlfriends. That put the boys' accounts more in the red, and the fact the girls accepted it put their accounts further over, as well. I smiled as I held my glass out to the side to be refilled. "Let's talk terms," I said. Satan's Sluts "Suck you off if you let me go," the rock-chick said bluntly. Rage made my hands curl into fists. That was my fucking cock, you slimy bitch! Suddenly the manager's hand descended on my shoulder and pulled me through another doorway, closing it and shutting off all sound. I blinked, suddenly feeling myself again. Hang on, had he said "you three"? "So what about me?" I asked, feeling a bit stupid. "Isn't it obvious?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "You're not dead." That was a relief, for about two seconds. "Then what am I doing here?" "Simpler than letting you get arrested and then trying to sort it out later," she said candidly. "You're here because I want to offer you a job, and I made sure you didn't kill yourself - or get killed, that's the second time the bassist has done that, but I managed to hide the body the first time - because I want to offer you a job." I blinked at her. "A job?" I was still feeling really fucking stupid. "A job," she said brightly. "You'd end up down here when you died anyway, but I think you'd be a real asset to the activities of this organisation." I groaned. I got enough of that sort of language at work. "Can you can the corporate speak?" I asked, feeling my head hurting reflexively. She shrugged. "Where do you think it came from? Anyway, all the real work around here is done by demons and devils, but the key positions are filled by ex humans, not fallen angels. I've been here almost since the beginning. My name's Sheeba - not that one - and I'm greed. Nice to meet you." I automatically shook her hand. "You're greed?" Yep, still fucking stupid. "Epitome of," she said with a careless wave of her hand. "I channel, engender, create - I walk the earth and make otherwise sane men and women with careful budgets want to kill to climb over the bodies of anyone who gets between them and their next promotion. "The thing is, you see, we've got an opening for lust. I think you'd be a good candidate." "I thought you'd be lust," I said, before digesting the fact she thought I would be a good epitome of lust in its purest form, and wondering whether to be proud or insulted. "They're easy to confuse," she said. "But the difference is - I took a band and convinced them to be desperate for stardom as well as girls. "You, on the other hand, would be making prostitutes and brothels rich, and turning parties into orgies. Any band you managed wouldn't put their clothes on long enough to practice, but they might wash more often and work on their lines." I shook my head. "You seriously want me to, what, lead an entire department and be lust?" She waved her hand in a vague gesture. "Oh no," she said. "Operations just sort of take care of themselves. We're more like demonic forces to look up to. We provide everyone else with the best bad example. And yes, I want you to be lust." I looked down at myself. I was still naked, which suddenly made me feel embarrassed again. My tits were nice but not big, my legs were okay, but... "I'm hardly the hottest body in town," I said, looking at her meaningfully. She laughed. "Oh, do you think this is my body? We have a great benefits package, starting with a proper makeover. Will you take it?" I squinted at her. "So... I get a new body, demonic powers, the ability to make otherwise sane men and women cream their pants when I walk past, and I live forever without having to fear eternal hellfire and damnation?" "Yes." "Just yes? No catch?" "Weeeeell," she said, "We might lose a war against the heavenly hosts, but that's unlikely. And if you don't join us, you'll suffer everlasting torment anyway." "Well, okay then," I said with a shrug. "I'm in." She clapped her hands. "Excellent! I'll get you changed, and then introduce you to the other girls." "The other sins are girls too?" "All except pride. Satan keeps one man so he have homosexual sex whenever he feels like it, just to piss off It upstairs." I perked up. "So we get to fuck Satan?" She rolled her eyes. "Just about every day. The rest of us have been hanging out on finding a good candidate for lust to let us off the hook. And I'm warning you: Your powers of carnal attraction don't work on us." For just one second, I remembered I used to be straight, then dismissed the thought as being too boring. "I'll just have to fuck more humans, then." She grinned, warmly. "That's the spirit!" # I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my chambers and stretched, feeling a delicious thrill run all up and down my new body. I still looked a bit like me, but I had mouth-watering legs all the way to huge melons of tits, wide hips and an hourglass waist, long neck - face it, I was a fucking wet dream. I looked fucking sultry next to Sheeba, and I had thought she was the pinnacle of stunning! I stared at myself and licked my lips. My horns, which I could mentally wish away for short periods, and my wings and tail - ditto - just made me look exotic. I had to meet Satan before I started work. I was going to fuck him every way I knew how, and suddenly I knew ways I would never even have imagined. Oh yes, it was a good thing we could rearrange time - the boss was going to have his cock in all my holes for about a century. I bent over backwards, stretching, until I could grab my ankles. I wonder if I should warm up with a damned soul, first?