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The Cult of the Lamia Ch. 01

By: Gethelred



It was dark as he turned away from the door, and walked towards his car. It was late- late for normal people, but not really for him. It was just before the new moon, so there was almost no light, nothing save outlines and shadows that guided him to his car. The wind wasn't strong, or cold, but it was loud. Loud enough so that he couldn't hear the footsteps behind him, soft footfalls on wet ground. Loud enough that he didn't sense the hand reaching round, or the rag, until it was too late.

His back seized up, arching in pain.

"Don't worry; the pain is only passing. The after effects of the drug, you understand."

He shifted. The voice was right, it was subsiding already. He opened his eyes, and tried to sit up, only to find that his wrists were bound tightly, and were held out, stretching his arms. There were ties on his ankles that held him likewise, and he found that he couldn't move his limbs at all. His head, though, was unbound, and he could see around the room.

It was beyond opulent, beyond even garish. The walls were red, a deep rich red, as were the divans that rimmed the room, the passion surrounded by rich mahogany. There was a lit fire directly down from him, and the roof was black, save for the mirror that was directly above him. It made staring straight up uncomfortable- Mark was not narcissistic at all, and he was totally naked. 

"I would imagine you have questions, Mark. That is what I am here for; ask them. There is still time vacant before we are all blessed."

He craned his neck, trying to find the speaker. It was a male voice, but it was high pitched, like a boys. 

"Who are you? Where am I?" he asked, his voice slightly panicked. 

"It matters not where you are, but I am Nathan, a Brother of the Order of the Lamia."

"What the fuck is the Order of the Lamia? And Why the fuck am I here?!"

"The Order of the Lamia is the only true faith still in existence. We can see and converse with our gods whenever we wish- given that certain... criterion is observed beforehand. And our deities have real power; to grant wishes, to do our wills. As to why you are here, you are to be a sacrifice to the Gods."

Mark was definitely worried now. Panicking, he tried to force the bonds holding him, furiously trying to loosen them, but they did not budge. The ties were not even slightly moved. 

"Relax. It will not hurt. I am told that it is rather pleasant to be the subject of a Lamia. But it could never be me who partakes in this honour; I am the God's Seneschal, and am thus to defer all potential that I have to be subject to Her desires. My position requires certain... sacrifices."

Mark gave up. He certainly did not care about the seneschal's inability to satisfy whatever a "Lamia" was. He heard a door open.

"A real pity. I could have told you so much more. But it is too late for instruction now."

Mark felt hands at his bonds, and as they loosened he felt his wrists. The marks were not deep; they were almost nonexistent. 

"Mark", came the voice, and instantly Mark fell under the spell. It was like that of classical music; a beautiful flute solo. "Mark, how are you this day? Are you well?"

Mark sat up, still massaging his wrists. Before him was a woman. She had blonde hair, and my god, what a figure. Her breasts were big- at least C-cups, if not D's- and her hips flared dangerously. She was sex to him, everything he had ever wanted in a woman. Her face was gorgeous, the face of a movie star or an angel. He felt his cock stand up just looking at her. 

She was looking at him, her eyes penetrating. Her gaze flicked up and down his body, a caress. He felt his cock burn. 

"You have more questions. Ask." She commanded. 

"W-What are you going to do to me?" he said, his voice full of trepidation. "And who are you?"

"My name is Astartë, and I am to renew the vows between mine and my people." Her voice was music, perfect, harmonious. "If you are looking for the terminology, I am sure you could find any number of words for what I am: succubus, Lilith, Mara, all the same." 

Mark relaxed slightly; he knew what a succubus was, if not the rest. A sexual demon.

"Are you going to kill me?" He asked. He had heard that succubi need not kill their food, just did when it suited them. And if that's what she believed she was, than it was best to humour her.

She looked at him, her gaze smouldering. "Yes." 

"Will it hurt?" 

"No, my sweet. Every soul I have ever consumed has been in rapture, has wanted to be with me forever. And you will beg me for the end before you are done." She ran her hand across his cheek.

Well, that was cliché, he thought. But she was right- There was something about her, a combination of her smell, her body, and the way she looked at him that made him want her, want to be in her. Now.

And he didn't believe her either. I mean, come on, he thought. If you want to fuck me, that's ok, but at least he could wrestle her off, and escape. She probably has a knife on her somewhere, he thought. He cast his eyes around the room. There wasn't really any exits, but there were plenty of places that a weapon could be hidden. He would just have to play it by ear.

Without his knowing it, she had moved closer, her face inches from his. He started, but before he could pull away, she wrapped her arms around his head and kissed him hard. She fought him for control, and as they wrestled they both fell back onto the bed. She was on top of him one second, below him the next. He tried to breathe, to take it slower, but she was having none of that.

She pushed him down- hard- in the centre of his chest, as she positioned herself lower. Flicking her hair behind her ears, she held his cock upright, looking him straight in the eyes the whole time. Eyes a smouldering fire, she took his entire length in the first thrust.

He moaned. Most girls could barely fit him in their mouths; he wasn't overly long, but he was thick. This girl may be nuts, he thought, but she really knew her stuff. Not that he was really thinking for long. 

She bobbed her head, taking shallow thrusts, prolonging it. With every thrust, she licked down his cock, as far as she could reach. But then her thrusts got faster and deeper. Her mouth seemed to close around him, in a mass of throbbing heat. He looked down at her, and nothing had changed, but it felt like his cock was inside her vagina. It was too much. 

She stopped thrusting, and simply embedded him as deeply as she could. His hips moved involuntarily, as he came hard into her mouth. He felt her head move again, as she sucked the last of his orgasm down her throat. But she didn't stop when it finished; she kept sucking, and sucking. He felt himself build again, faster and faster. He grabbed her head, and screamed out his second orgasm, mere seconds after his first. She looked up at him, her gaze approving. He lay there, panting.

"I told you that you would enjoy it." 

He nodded. He didn't really care if she thought she could suck his soul or not- if she did it that way, it didn't matter. He had had his fair share of women, but none of them had made him feel like that, made him come more than once in the same blowjob. But it was more than that too; the orgasms themselves were even better, lasting longer, filling up his entire body with fire.

Her eyes flicked down to his cock. "This simply will not do." 

Her hand ran down the centre of his chest, the nails barely touching the skin, before she got to his cock. She lightly stroked it, using one hand, looking at it idly while holding the other hand upright. Almost as if it were a snake, waiting for a chance to...

He saw her hand move, and tried to move away, but the other hand had him. The fingernail of her index finger dug into his cock, and again he screamed. It really hurt, but there was more to it than her just stabbing his cock with her nail- it felt like his entire cock had filled with boiling liquid, and it overflowed into his balls. It was not a pleasant experience. 

She looked back up at him, smiling. "Now you can last a bit longer." He looked down, to see his cock was again standing to attention, far harder than it was before. Mark didn't really have time to wonder at this, because she straddled him, and took his cock into the warmest, wettest, tightest pussy he had ever felt. It was so tight, yet so soft. He thrust up into her involuntarily, his body wanting more. He almost came when she moved, her hips thrusting down, meeting his movements. 

Her eyes were alight with need, and her breathing was erratic. She began to hum, the rhythm pulsating, and he found that her pussy pulsed in time. She got louder, and her pussy got tighter. He could feel it starting in his balls, and he felt her clench around him, her own orgasm drawing him deeper. His cries joined hers, as he erupted inside her. He felt the orgasm even stronger than he had before; it lasted longer, and where before he was merely out of breath, now he was exhausted. She was watching him now, calculating. The look was predatory and, for the first time, Mark was afraid.

He was still inside her, and he could still feel her throbbing around him, wrapping him in heat. He was still hard, but it kind of hurt. She began to move slowly, raising herself only to impale him back inside her, deeper. He felt a new wave begin to rise, and he burned out his orgasm again. 

Enough, he thought, weakly trying to get up, to roll her off him. But he seemed to move in slow motion, his arms barely moving at all. He looked at them in astonishment; they were mere skin and bone, almost no muscle.

"It'll all be over soon," she said softly, impaling him again. "Just two more."

He tried to stop her, to wrestle her off him, but he was far too weak. She was still thrusting furiously, and he could feel it building again. This time he actively fought it, forced his orgasm back down. She looked at him, her expression empty.

"Not many humans are capable of that with one like us. Interesting..." 

She leant over him, rubbing his chest with her breasts as she released his cock from her embrace. He struggled feebly, but it didn't help. Her hand was on his cock, and she repositioned it- my god, Mark thought, is she going to...

He didn't have time to finish the thought, as she forced him all the way into her ass. It was so tight, he almost came from the first thrust. He struggled for control- if he came now, he might be too weak to fight the next orgasm off. 

She kissed him hard, distracting him. He felt her caress his balls, but he could see both of her hands in front of him, feel them driving him on. The sensation was too much, and as much as he tried to fight it, he felt it build.

"For you, I will make this quick."

Whatever it was that caressed his balls thrust a small digit into his ass. He lost all control, his body bucking with strength he thought had left him. The approaching orgasm hit him like a flood, and it was the biggest yet. It felt beyond anything he had felt before; it was bliss. 

He felt something within him tear, and as he looked up at her, his eyes swam. 

She got up, and brought his still hard cock to her mouth. She sucked him clean, before driving him towards the last orgasm. He had no thoughts, no desire. He was a husk, and all that existed for him was his cock, in her mouth. She deepthroated him, hard and fast, and he erupted for the last time. She sucked out his life, and tasted his soul. 

His life ended in total bliss, and he saw no more. 

The Cult of the Lamia Ch. 02



"Mark..."

He was in a pit, a pit of invisible fire and blades and pain. Over and over he felt himself die. 

"Mark... can you hear My voice?" He thought he was imagining things- nothing spoke here, it was all darkness. 

"Mark, do you still wish for the life that was taken from you?"

He nodded his assent, then curled up as he was lashed with crippling agony.

"Then go; find those destined to be my brides, and bring them to My embrace."

He never saw the speaker, as he rose through the darkness to reach out to his carcass, and to breathe again.

There was a light directly above him. A cold, white light, of the sort found in hospitals. 

He sat up. He was completely naked still, and he was cold. But it didn't affect him like it would normally; where he would normally be shivering he was perfectly comfortable. He got up off the metal table, and walked towards the exit.

The door opened before he got to it, and the gothic on the other side hit the roof. She screamed, the sound more piercing than anything Mark had ever heard before. His hearing was better; he could hear her heart beat, but he was even more aware of other things. He could tell that she not only thought that he was attractive, but that the fact that she thought she was dreaming meant that he could get away with anything. He knew she liked sex without foreplay, rough and hard, with no thought as to the consequences. He also knew the she was going through a dry patch, and if he asked, she would say fuck yes.

He felt hot, hotter than he ever had before. His cock stood hard up against his body, and he looked down at it in astonishment. It was at least one, if not two inches bigger, and his girth was roughly the same. Both of this combined made him look huge, more like a pornstars cock than his own. He caught her looking too, and she blushed.

She was good-looking, if a little thin. Long fake dark red hair, added to translucent skin. Her eyes were huge, but that might have been the circumstances of this meeting. Blue. She was average height, but she was so thin as to ethereal. Before, he tended to like girls with a bit of shape, but he could appreciate how attractive she was. Her tongue bolt was not something he could see; it was just something that he was aware of. He had caught a stray thought of her running it under the head of his cock. He pulsed at the idea.

Someone came running, an orderly and two doctors. They both looked aghast at seeing him alive. 

"How did you get in here?" one of the doctors snapped.

"He was one of the stiffs; I saw them bring him in earlier. They were going to cut him up, because he... well he didn't look half this good." The orderly said. Mark caught what he looked like now from their minds; it was him, but him several inches taller, with muscle not roping or bulging but present. His face, never his most attractive point, was still his own, but with certain aspects of his features increased and lessened to make him handsome. But his eyes, they were exactly the same; hazel, but with more green than brown. 

In short, he looked like either a movie star, or a sportsman. 

"Are you saying that one of the bodies we brought in here was alive?" the other doctor asked, his tone faintly disbelieving. "Because if that s the case, we had best get a lawyer down here pronto. This gent would be well within his rights to sue us for everything we've got."

The goth snorted. "Come on, let's get you some clothes. Not that I think you need them." She muttered the last quietly, so that no-one else could hear her. Mark let her lead him away, to a private room. She turned around, and shut the door.

"Don't worry about them; they were a bit thrown off, you know, but the fact that anyone who is meant to go into the morgue is meant to be... well, dead."

Mark looked at her, his gaze questioning. He was horny, but didn't want to impose. He absently cupped his balls, and saw her eyes follow his hand. She wanted to do the same, and more.

He walked over to her slowly, giving her every chance to move away or to reject him. When he was next to her, he looked down at her face, smiling slightly. Her breathing had become laboured, and she wanted so much from him.

"That must be one hell of a dry spell you're going through." He said. She flushed.

"How do you know about that?"

"Michelle, I know everything. I could recount for you every partner you have ever had, and what you did with each." He didn't know why he said it, but for some reason it was necessary. He had to warn her. His nature dictated it. He knew what he was, without telling.

"I am what you need, what you crave, when you go to sleep unsatisfied. I am who you dream of, after you've had sex but not come, because the guy was nothing but a boy in men's clothes."

She swayed, and he felt how wet she was through her clothes, without using his hands. Without words, he dropped to his knees, and lifted her skirt. She said nothing, helping him pull off her stockings and take off her panties, and he savoured her flavour in one lick. She moaned out loud, grinding her hips into his face. His tongue was unnaturally long, and he found he could delve within her as deep as he wanted to. He hit the places of pleasure inside her, while using the bridge of his nose to rub her clit. She loved it, humping his face for all she was worth, oblivious to the amount of noise she was making. 

She came explosively, and he sipped her energy, just a little. Nothing she couldn't recover from. And certainly not enough to kill her, or doom her to His service. 

He backed away, and stood up. She was breathing hard. "My god, you have the longest tongue I have ever... well, felt." She flushed at that last, smiling awkwardly. He smiled at her. 

"You're gorgeous, Michelle. Don't let anyone tell you different. But you don't really want me to do that which I can to you. You have guessed what I am, haven't you?"

He had heard the snatch of a word in her mind, just before she came, and again as she recalled it. Incubus. 



The Cult of the Lamia Ch. 03



Michelle shook her head; he caught her denial. No way, she thought, he's shitting me. He couldn't be. But... he is completely, unbelievably hot, and it's more than that- he's not even my type. When he went down on me, I came like it was my first orgasm again. And he knew what I liked. And I feel... a little weak. She did not need to think about how he already knew what she was going to say before she said it.

Mark had to hold in the eye roll he wanted- some people will believe anything. He couldn't help laughing at the irony of that thought, though. Several days ago, he would have been one of those who laughed at the concept of there actually being anything supernatural, completely aside from himself being one. Much less being a demon that women could not resist, that he could have sex whenever and however he wanted. He felt a spike in his heat, and noted its effect on the woman; she breathed deeply, and her cheeks grew red. She leant at him, her body language positively screaming at him. He could hear nothing from her, all thought gone in an instant, replaced with desire and wordless need. Her mouth was open, her tongue running across her bottom lip lightly. 

He focused on her, his eyes on her body, drinking in her looks. She really was quite beautiful, the red in her hair a good fake- a deep maroon shade, faintly metallic- and it was completely straight, down to her shoulder blades. She was slender, almost too thin, but her hips flared out, and her thighs filled out her stockings perfectly. Her breasts were small, just over A-cups, but they were perfect for her size and shape. Her face was unassuming, but not unattractive. Her lips were just a bit too thin, but the nose ring and the multiple piercing in her ears gave her an assertive look. And her skin was pale without being pallid, almost translucent. He longed to touch her, to mould himself around her body, to sink himself into her.

She launched herself at him, her mouth fierce. She pushed him hard against the wall, his body hitting it in a dull thud. Before he knew it, she had turned around, and her stockings were down. She impaled herself on his cock, forcing his whole length inside her as fast as she could. But she was tight, despite her orgasm earlier, and her frantic thrust only took him half way. 

He took over, and eased himself into her fully. He willed her to the brink, driving her insane with his hands on her body; massaging into her shoulder blades as she liked, pulling her upright so he could kiss her collarbone. His thrust built up momentum, and he felt her tighten around his cock. He held back her pleasure, revelling in his new abilities. He could control her orgasm however he willed, and he wanted her to erupt in the greatest orgasm of her life.

"OH GOD, PLEASE LET ME COME!!" she said in a ragged whisper. Every thrust made her want more, felt the pleasure build. She should have come already, but she somehow hadn't. The tension was almost painful.

He turned her around, and picked her up, holding her legs wide, his hands on her ass. He rammed into her, his cock leaving her body completely before plunging to its roots again, faster and faster. He let her build even higher, leaving her on the pinnacle of pleasure, coming harder and harder. She jerked and writhed on his cock, her orgasms all blending into one, erupting over and over and over. He couldn't help himself; he had to taste that bouquet, feast on her desire. He fed on her life, on her soul, on her orgasm.

She slumped on his body, her weight limp in his arms. She was breathing, but only just. She was conscious, repeating the words "Oh my god" over and over. He sat down, pulling her with him, and he held her while she recovered. 

She leant against his chest. "Holy fucking shit, that was the best sex ever." He smiled modestly. "Thanks."

She turned to look at him, her arms barely strong enough to hold her weight. "Before that, I wasn't sure, but now I am; you are a fucking incubus."

He was silent, watching her. "I suppose I am."

"What the hell do you mean by that?! I just had sex with you, and came like, twenty times, and you're like, I 'suppose I'm an incubus?'"

"Well..." Mark said, and he told his story; what had happened to him, how he had died. She was silent throughout all of this.

"Holy fucking shit- I should probably stop saying that, now that I know there's a hell to go to. So, what are you going to do? I mean, you fed on me, right? That's why I'm so weak right now." He nodded. She half smiled, then slapped him across the face. Hard.

"Bad Mark! Do not ever feed on me again."

"Would it help if I told you I could feed off anyone at any time?" he said, rubbing his cheek.

"Are you serious? Then why did you just fuck me? Not that I'm complaining, but..."

"I dunno- I was just checking you out, then you jumped me."

She frowned. "I got really horny all of a sudden. Did you not want to have sex with me?"

"Hells yeah, I did. I just didn't want to turn you into a succubus."

She was silent for a bit.

"So... am I a succubus now?"

He shook his head. "If you were, we would already be having sex. I dunno how I know, but we would be fucking faster than you could blink, only stopping to eat."

"So, by eat, do you mean food, or..."

"Do you really think that I would forgo the chance to eat steak, just because I can suck my energy from other people?"

"So you can eat... Hang on, weren't you reading my mind before? How come you aren't now?"

"You want to talk, not be talked at. I can listen, both to your thoughts and to your words, and respond to both."

She frowned, and hit him again.

"Ow! If I knew you were going to be this violent after sex, I wouldn't have slept with you!"

"That was for reading my mind at all. So, how would you make a succubus?"

"You know what, I don't know. I suppose that, when I fuck someone until they die- and it will be when, I can't fight my urges permanently- they may come back as a succubus. It has to be their choice; I can't just bestow it on people."

She pouted. Then she smiled. It was a wicked smile, lighting up her face. 

"How do you go about stealing energy from others without sex? If it is how I think you do it, I want to watch."

He popped his head out of the doorway, and saw the snooty doctor from earlier. He focused on him, thinking of the sex he had just had with Michelle, just with the doctor in his position.

The doctor stopped walking, his body going physically rigid. His face became flushed, and he came almost immediately. He sipped the orgasmic energy, trying to ignore the flavour, while Michelle giggled behind him. The doctor went bright red as a group of nurses walked past, a few of them looking at him oddly. Michelle was trying to be quiet, but it wasn't working. 

Mark looked about the room, and found some hospital clothes- orderly fatigues, green pants, green shirt. Putting them on, he turned to Michelle.

"Could you locate my patient files? I dunno what they're called; the files I had when I came in, they detail the way I was found, and that sort of thing."

She nodded, not quite over the laughter, and still quietly chuckling. "Yeah, that's no problem; I'm the Medical Examiner for the local police, and I was going to perform an autopsy on your body. Seeing as you're alive..." She shook her head. "I wish I could have. I wonder what I would have concluded from your body. What can you remember of your state, before you died?"

"I was completely, ridiculously weak. I had come multiple times, but my cock was still hard. I was- bizarrely- thin, I wasn't before, but I was after the sex."

Michelle checked herself. "You know what, I think I may have lost some weight- maybe one or two pounds." She smiled. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"So... what are you going to do? I mean, now that you're, well..."

He was determined. "I'm going to find them; those that made me like this, those who don't possess the courage to die for their own religion, and I'm going to end them; whether by killing them, or by merely exposing them, I will put an end to the way they obtain victims, or even if those chosen have to die at all."

He looked at him, her eyes alight. "Wow. That's awesome. Can I help?"

He looked at her, not in sexual terms for the first time. "Sure. Why not?"

Her smile lit up the room.



The Cult of the Lamia Ch. 04



"Are you going to sign the paperwork or not? It has to be done, and you need the money."

Mark sighed. He ended up suing the hospital, just because he needed the money. Before he was kidnapped, he was a full time employee at a petrol station, and he got the bare minimum to get him through the week. With this money- that he would get for suing both the hospital and the police force for declaring him dead, and for putting him in for an autopsy when he wasn't- he could buy his own house, instead of rent, and live easily. He remembered his last meeting with the lawyer.

He walked into the room, full of expensive furniture. He had met the lawyer before; she was more than moderately attractive, and there was something about her that he found more than merely attractive. Every now and then he could see an otherness about her, in the way she dealt with men, particularly her husband. She was tall, and dirty blonde. Her face was hard, but not in an unattractive sense. She had ice blue eyes that made him wonder how they looked when she came. 

Her lips were full, but her face was not ridiculously made up. She tended to dress in a masculine fashion, given that she wore skirts. Her clothes made her harder, colder. Mark, from the very second he met her, found her to be a challenge he wanted to vanquish. Her distance and strangeness made him want to have her, to possess her, in every sense, and make her as feminine as he could. 

She stood as he entered, her very stance hopeful; she was adept at hiding her thoughts, given that she didn't know he could read them. Even so, he knew she was more than mildly attracted to him, and that she physically responded each time she was in the same room as he was. Even when she talked to him, he could feel her desire, despite the fact that he couldn't hear her thoughts over the phone. 

She smiled at him, lighting up her face. "Hello, Mr Erickson. Please." She motioned at a chair, opposite her on the board room table. Mark caught a stray thought- she liked this table. He caressed it lightly, and she saw herself, lying across the rich wood, her shirt open, and her knees around her head. She started, visibly, but she was too much the professional to let on what she wanted. It hadn't really been hard to push her in that direction.

"Your case against both the police and the hospital is going well; the police's lawyer has offered you this. I think we can get more." She looked at him expectantly.

He glanced at the figure: $450000. "How exactly would you get more? That seems like a fair amount."

She smiled at him; a predatory look. It reminded him of someone else. "Not really. You could have had an autopsy performed on you while you were still alive. Any jury or judge that his is placed in front of is likely to award you far more than six figures. 

"The hospital is trying to pass off all blame onto the police," she continued," who found the body, but if that is taken to court, it will go our way- one would assume that a hospital would not take at face value a dead man who looks alive." She could not hide the quick flick that her eyes did, up and down his body, her eyes undressing him. He nodded, smiling on the inside. "It seems that everything is in hand then, Mrs Marcos. Inform me about all further offers." He stood to leave.

"Not quite yet, Mr Erikson. We haven't discussed payment, nor have you signed off on any documents with us yet."

He turned around, to find her standing next to him, far closer than was strictly necessary. Thoughts were flying off her; he caught her dreaming of straddling him in her office, even fucking her in front of her husband. She fought her mind back on to topic, reaching into her briefcase. She started when he closed his hands over her wrists. She froze, her entire body going rigid. Her mind was silent.

"Danielle, why don't you simply let this happen? You have desires, needs, that Nathan knows nothing about, yes? You have wanted men, but done nothing. This is wrong." 

She was breathing erratically, her eyes huge. Her mouth was open; he closed the distance between his mouth and hers, letting go of her wrists. Let it be her choice, he thought. 

"You neglected yourself, Danielle. Your husband would love you for learning more about yourself, and you would learn that he is the only one you want. You need to fuck someone else, just so that you know his is the only cock you will ever need."

Her gaze tightened, and she slapped him with everything she had. He didn't recoil, just followed the force of the blow. When he returned to look at her, she was staring at him, her expression hateful. She lunged at him, her lips requesting violence as they came into contact with his face. Her hands tore at his clothes, as he lifted her easily. He bore her back onto the table, spreading her legs with his own in one movement. She leant into him, her eyes closed in ecstasy as he ran his tongue and his teeth against her earlobe. She panted loudly into his ear, before biting his shoulder hard enough to draw blood. He forced his pants down, and took himself out, his cock standing hard up against his stomach. He withdrew, knowing that she wanted to see it, to compare him. 

Her eyes lit up when she saw it, her lips curving. He could see her husband's cock in her mind, see how it was not exactly the biggest going around. But he saw how she loved it when her husband fucked her, and how she loved him. But it had never stopped her eyes from wandering, her mind from wondering. And now he would give her what she craved. 

She got off the table, and removed her panties, taking care not to remove the suspenders that held up her stockings. She looked at him, one hand rubbing at her clit, the other unbuttoning her shirt. Her breasts were gorgeous, bigger than d-cup. He caught her desire; she wanted him in more places than he could possibly manage at once. He stepped towards her, and willed her to feel everything. His hands, rubbing her clit hard, meeting her desire to have him conquer her, to have him hurt her. His teeth, biting her hard enough to mark her, to betray this sin to her husband. His tongue, licking her entrance and penetrating it deeply enough for her to come from the sheer force of sensation. 

He traced her breasts with his hands, as she moaned, crippled from the pleasure of his mind. She came, over and over, her desire growing with each, her orgasm intensifying. He gave her everything, every fantasy she had ever had, had it happen to her in her mind. He positioned his cock at her entrance, and thrust in forcefully.

She came back to herself, and she tensed around his cock, her eyes searching for his. He kissed her hard again, forcefully, to erase the fear he found in them. He penetrated her deeply and slowly with every thrust, growing slower and slower. He played with her orgasm, building it before breaking it down again. She panted at him, "My god, what are you?!" 

He thrust into her, harder and harder. She bit his shoulder, her hands pulling him in, deeper and deeper, her legs widening. Her heels hammered against his behind, and she moaned into his ear, "Oh fuck, come, please come!"

He kept fucking her, but in his mind, he stopped. He hadn't come, from any sex he had had since he became an incubus, not once. He could feel it though, for the first time; this was one of the rare women who could make him, as he was now, come. He felt her begin to finish around him, and he held it off, letting it build around him.

She erupted, her pleasure burning her inside, a hint of his nature coming out in him. He tasted her energy, drinking deeply, her orgasm wonderful. She was intoxicating, and Mark realised he had found the first woman he could make into a succubus.

He stayed in her, when she finished, her head on his shoulder. When she pushed, he stepped away. 

"What are you, Mark? T-That was not possible..."she said, her eyes scared again. She looked tired now, and some of the plumpness around her face and her hips had vanished. She was now thin, where before she was healthy.

"You do not really want to know the answer to that question, do you? Much less than you actually wanted me to finish."

She nodded; intuitively, she knew what he was, just as he knew that he could potentially turn her. 

"I suppose I should thank you; you saved me from..." her voice trailed away. He caught thoughts; she would never have an affair now, he had given her everything she would ever need. And she knew he could have taken her life. 

He nodded, smiling slightly. "Don't thank me yet. I may still take you, and you may still call me, and ask for that which I denied you this day. And I might say yes."

She looked at him, for the first time seeing beyond the exterior. Her eyes were both speculative and afraid, and as she cleaned herself and the room up, she put herself back together.

He signed the relevant forms, and she seemed back to the way she was before, on the surface. But Mark could hear that she wept for her own fidelity, for her husband, for her children. She wept for herself, and for the question she would someday ask herself, then him. 

"Danielle, do not blame yourself, or try to keep this secret from your husband. He has sensed that he cannot satisfy you, and suspects an affair. Tell him about this, and he will not be shocked or hurt. He wants more from your relationship as well. Not in the same way, but he wants you to be happy. Tell him about this, and how you want only him as a consequence, and he will be more than happy; he will be grateful."

A week later, he received a text message from her, connected to a photo; her and her family, standing at a showground. The picture was dated, and it had been taken only a day before.

Thank you, the message said.



The Cult of the Lamia Ch. 05



The man sat, in his chair. He was cold; he couldn't remember what it was like to be warm. The cell was damp, and full of noise. Dripping water. He was naked.

He could remember the food, and the drink the Chosen had given him. He was awed to be in the presence of one of the God's Chosen ones, but he was scared too- this one had captured him as he was trying to find a suitable candidate for the sacrifice. He wasn't behaving in the way that any chosen male ever had in the past; mostly they just came to the Brotherhood, searching for answers, searching for themselves.

He fought to keep the location out of his mind. He knew the Chosen male wanted it, wanted to find out where they were, and for some reason he felt he should not give it to him, either by word or by thought. The males were always more proficient at the mental arts; the Chosen females simply were sex for men, and had no need for the level of mental powers this one displayed.

Don't think of it, don't think of it...

"It's no use," Mark said out loud, Michelle looking on expectantly. Both the hospital and the police force had settled, and Mark now was beyond rich. He had purchased a large house with a basement; suitable for him to start his search for the Cult. 

He had found this one fairly easily, scouting out the local pub. The cultist had almost closed on his target, the cloth wet in his hand, when Mark reached out with his mind, and stopped the cultist. Having memories of hell was, very occasionally, useful.  

He had made the mistake of letting the cultist know about his lack of information, and the manner of his capture had made him reticent. He didn't want to tell Mark anything, and was far more adept than anyone he had ever met at shielding his conscious mind. Mark had tried injecting thoughts of rapture; bevies of amazing women, some of them even stretching Mark's imagination. He had tried horrors, and ecstasy. Nothing had worked, the man before Mark quiet as the grave.

The mind technique Mark used was his last resort; the last time he used that he had ended up almost killing three students. One of them was capable of being turned, and it was her that Mark was most threatened by. Cassie.

She was short, barely even 5.3. She was dark, her hair brown but only just, and it shone in straight, perfect waves down her back. It reached down, past her shoulder blades, to her magnificent ass. It was perfect, in every conceivable way. Her face was gorgeous, huge, full eyes, a dark blue, the sea just before nightfall. Her lips were just a touch too full, her bottom lip almost perpetually set into a pout, but it was not a sullen expression on her. 

Her face was the shape of a heart, her fringe cascading down past her cheeks, setting off her eyes. She was shapely without being large, but she had an unconscious sexuality that made every male in the immediate vicinity turn his head. She gave the impression of a storm on the beach, and had a mind to match; she was volatile, and it was largely due to her that her friends had gotten involved with Mark. 

The sex had been fantastic; the other two were blonde, and just what you would imagine from hearing that. They were both taller, but not quite as tall as he was; one was platinum blonde, the other had layers. They both were singularly unremarkable, compared to their friend. He had turned his mind on the brunette, but she had a strange mind, pushing his desire at both her friends. They melted under the force of his mind, and he focused on them. He made them build, their desire mounting. Cassie was unconsciously aware of her friend's orgasms, given that they were quiet. 

The night had ended with them all at a motel, Mark and the three girls lying in a tangle of limbs and moans. He could not tell where his own desire began and the others ended, all of them close, so very close. He was embedded deep inside one of the blondes, her cries barely audible over the screams Cassie made as he devoured her pussy. 

He licked at her as he knew she liked, her taste making him want to spear her as hard as he had ever. He built up their want over and over, not using his mind this time, linking his thoughts to theirs, melding each of their desires as one. He did what they longed for, and he finished with them, his own orgasm building with each one. His hands and his cock throbbed, every fetish and desire the girls had fulfilled. He had been drinking their desire almost constantly, all conscious thought gone. He felt their lives in his hands, the threads of their essence trembling as he gave them pleasure. He could feel Cassie, part of her in him, part of her wanting more, wanting his orgasm inside her, now, now, now. She wanted to be changed, wanted a life of more than she could get any other way. 

He came to himself just in time, strumming the girl's final orgasms, preparing to take his last thrust. He was deep inside Cassie, his hands and mouth rubbing and teasing. He was more aware of his own power than ever before. He held back, and built the students orgasms higher and higher. 

Their screams mingled as they all came, and he grit his teeth, holding himself and hell inside.

Cassie had managed to pry from him his mobile number; she was the only one left conscious after that night. He had paid for the motel room, and for breakfast, and the only way he could get rid of her was to tell give it to her. And, while he was reluctant to her face, he wanted to know where and how she was, and wanted her to have a means of asking him the question. While he may not ever say yes to Danielle, he would struggle to say no with Cassie.

"Hello-oo? Earth to Mark?" Michelle said, waving her hands in front of his eyes. "How are we going to get him to talk- sorry," she said, giggling, "Been watching the Sopranos on TV, it's catching!"

He smiled. "I'm just thinking. I couldn't have said no to the succubus who made me..."

Michelle's smile faded a little. She did not care if he fucked around, but Mark knew that she wanted to be a succubus, with everything she had. She was smarter than he was, so she probably knew why she couldn't become one; she wasn't... compatible, not for him to turn her. Not every girl could become a succubus. 

"So, who were you thinking?" she said, her gaze penetrating. "The student, or the lawyer? Or have you found another already?" He turned to her, looking for any bitterness in her expression. She laughed at the look on his face; he caught her mentally rolling his eyes.

"I don't want to be a succubus that badly, Mark. I am aware that you feel you cannot turn me, and I'm fine with it. I just want to help; even when I met you, you were... good to me. I hated my life, and you not only took me out, but you gave me something worthwhile to do. And I get a look at the big picture too?" She smiled, and it lit up the room. She was good at that, when she was happy. "I wouldn't miss this for the world, Mark. Not for anything."

He turned away. He willed an image at her; emotion. Happiness, longing. Her eyes glistened when it hit her, and she smiled wider.

"So..." she said, recovering, and replacing her glasses, "Who will you turn? You have only found two so far? Danielle, or Cassie?"



The Cult of the Lamia Ch. 06



The wind was loud this night, as it whistled around the on campus living. It was late, and most of the students had gone to bed. Which was odd; mostly there was constantly something going on, a late night drinkathon, or a party across one hallway or the other. This university was even more lax than most, but everyone could feel the difference this night. It was cold, but that was normal for this time of year. It was in the air, though; a sense of something else. Lecturers gave their seminars to empty rooms; students who would normally be out socialising were alone, inside. It was unconscious. And that was only during the day.

The night was chaos incarnate, wind and leaves and individual sheets of rain and sleet falling together. Benches were overturned, and the streets of the township were empty. The police bunkered down in their station, knowing that, at least for this night, the crime outside was beyond their ability to control. There was no moon, and no stars. Nothing.

Tonight was not a Friday, nor was it the thirteenth of the month. It was the 1st of November, the Nameless day. Samhaihn.

Cassie shuddered. She had felt the wind whistling around her since she had left the library, pushing her towards away from shelter. It was odd; the wind was freezing, but she wasn't cold at all. It seemed to be curving around her, lifting the folds of her skirt, whistling through her sleaves, and down her shirt. It stroked her skin, and she felt almost as though fingers were on the wind, caressing her, running across the skin beneath her breasts, stroking her inner thigh. She smiled. 

Casssie, the wind whispered, Casssssie. She felt the wind surge around her, lifting her forwards, almost off her feet. She stumbled, and felt a pair of arms come out, and catch her softly. She started, and rose. 

Mark smiled down at her.

It was not her room that he led her to, even though he led her through her door, in her corridor. It was a master suite worthy of an Arabic princess; a full teak set of furniture, all in an oriental style, complementing the floor of marble. The double door outside was open, and the curtains in a dark purple were flowing backwards; Cassie noted that they were far too long for normal use, flowing from the bar at the top like water from a waterfall. 

The four-poster bed was opulent, bigger than even a king size. The drapes from the top started out as the same purple as the curtains, but softened into a lighter colour before turning white. These too flowed out from the bed, drenching it in sheets of pale mauve. 

Cassie turned in his arms, and looked at him questioningly. She had always felt more than comfortable around him, had felt that she could keep up with him, be beside him like no other- that gothic chick he hung out with was pretty, but nothing when compared to her. 

"What's the occasion?" 

Mark smile again, this time fairly self consciously. "I have a proposition to put to you, but..." He trailed away.

"But what?"

"Full of questions much tonight?" he said, as she sat down on the bed. He kept his distance, standing against the wall, as far away from her as he could. Best make sure her choice was strictly hers- she might not survive it he made it for her. 

"What have you... thought, about the night we had; you, Cristina, Amanda and me?"

She coloured, her pale face beyond red. "I have considered all sorts of things."

"Like what?"

"Like... mutant spiders and kryptonite."

He laughed out loud. "See, no fangs!"

She smiled. "No, really. Then I looked on the internet, mainly Wikipedia, and read up, about mythological creatures. What I- we- experienced that night... it's more than what most women get their whole lives. Therefore, I thought you might be... well..."

"Well what?"

"An incubus; a demon who feeds of female sexual energy. Maybe you can turn into a woman, and fuck men for their semen, so you can create little demon children!" She said that last with a half smile on her face, but she couldn't hide the quaver in her voice.

He walked over to her, and sat down, next to her. He made sure to keep away, so that they didn't touch.

"I am all of this. I can read your mind, and even to some measure control it. I can flood your body with pleasure, and make you want only me until your dying day. I could fuck you and fuck you until you are dead from the sheer momentum, but why would I do that when I could suck out your soul and love every taste, every smell? More than that; your death would be an aphrodisiac for me."

She drew away slightly, her face no longer smiling. "Why are you telling me this?"

He gestured around. "This room. It shows you both sides of my nature. I am as beautiful and as desirable as the richest of silks; I am as treacherous as icy water, and I will drown you in my embrace. 

He stopped for a moment. "I am here to offer you a choice; I will walk away tonight, and you will have an utterly normal life. You will have a home, and a husband. You will have children. You will grow old, and you will definitely die. Or...

"Or you could have me, have this, forever. I found in you something both precious and powerful; not an emotion, or even a strong feeling. It was an intuition, a realisation, that you could be as I am. I am offering you the chance to be a succubus, my opposite, my equal. You would prey on men as I did on you, but more. You would enjoy it far, far more than I ever can. I can only finish when I drain a woman completely, and only when I turn a human into one of us."

"So I ask you, will you have a normal life, and live it out being content, and die as a mortal, or will you take this, and run with it until the end of days? Will you join me, and become the Bride of...Whatever?"

She was silent, her face as chalk. "Holy shit, Mark!"

He nodded. "I know, right? It's mind blowing. I wasn't given a choice, though. I was already dead when I was made."

She turned, looking and leaning towards him. 

"How was it for you, when you were made? Did it hurt?"

He told her the story, but his mind was elsewhere. He was watching her hard, her posture, her heat. He could see the slight sweat on her collarbone, running down between her breasts. He watched as her legs crossed and uncrossed, her hands holding her dress down between her legs as she shifted. Her mind wasn't letting on; he was listening for something, anything that would tell him which way she was leaning.

She sat back.

"The moment of truth, Cassie." He said, forcing himself off her.

"How do I know you aren't interfering with my mind?"

"You don't. All I can tell you is that if it was me, you wouldn't survive this."

She sighed, then leaned in at him. 

"I choose this life, to be one of the damned, to be a whore, a slut, a Bride for the Devil, or whatever. Now would you hurry up and Fuck Me?!" She demanded. He smiled as he moved his lips towards her.

She was gorgeous naked. Even though he had seen her before, the distractions had decreased her beauty, but now she was all there was. She was everything there was. She had the best ass he had ever seen on a white girl, and he grabbed it hard as he kissed her, his tongue running across hers, sparks wherever contact was made. He ran his hands over her hips, following the not too subtle curves all the way up to her back, where he unsnapped her bra with one hand. 

He stroked her shoulderblades, his nails slightly digging in. He knew that she wanted rough later, but now she wanted gentle; she was still a bit scared. He then gave her jaw and her neck more attention, kissing and biting in variables, making her moan. He didn't enter her mind.

His left hand caressed her breasts, kneading them as he knew she liked. They were roughly a C cup, and she had the most gorgeous nipples he had ever seen; tiny, little buds, a dark brown, almost chocolate colour. They became tiny when she was aroused, and aroused she was now. He lowered his mouth, and sucked on her left nipple, tasting her body. She cried out, arching her back, driving her body closer, begging for more, as he ran his right hand against her other nipple, and his left between her legs. She was wet, so much more than wet. He ran his forefinger lightly over her clit, toying with it, moving it backwards and forwards. She came hard, and for the first time, he sipped her pleasure without restraint. 

She gasped, her hips thrusting hard against his hand, forcing his finger painfully into her clit, but it made her orgasm more intense. She came harder than ever before, her body tense. She knew she needed this, needed to let go of her nerves for him, for the sex that would define her life. 

She opened her eyes, staring at him. He let himself flood with desire, and she gasped; he had never used his full strength before, never even tested it on anyone.

She shivered from the sheer force of it. It was as though he had become fire, and the air shifted around him, vibrating at a higher pitch than before. She could hear a dim noise, a faint ringing in her ears, and as it vibrated through her being she felt herself flooding. It started on her skin, rubbing and caressing each folicle, each single goosebump. She breathed it in, down her throat, then down, down, ever down. She felt it slip ever lower, so slowly, the vibration becoming so intense as to be almost painful. It felt as though someone was fucking her from the inside, and she screamed as she overflowed, every wave sheer pleasure, every single breath ecstasy. 

She watched as though tied to his spot, as she breathed in his need, his want. He saw her body change temperature, and felt her desire grow, in testament to his own. He held back, as her breathing changed, each breath going deeper, deeper. He felt it penetrate her, delving deeply, each thrust making her burn more. He saw her build up, then have the single most powerful orgasm he had ever seen.

As she recovered, he stripped himself of clothes. When she recovered, she saw him, erect and hard. Quivering with need for her. He needed to be inside her, and she knew it. 

She crept up to him, on her hands and knees, her face still flushed, her breathing irregular. She looked him dead in the eyes, as she took him deeply in her mouth. His head rolled backwards; no-one, not even the succubus who made him, could have taken him so deeply, so quickly. And he was even bigger than he was when he was turned. All thought vanished when she took him as deeply again, even faster. Her eyes never left him, as she increased her speed, her head bobbing up and down, her tongue running along the underside of his cock, sometimes tickling the head of his cock, sometimes whirling around the base as she held it down her throat.

For her it was as though she was deepthroating her own orgasm; as his pleasure built up, so did hers, and when she took him down her throat she almost came. She took him again, and she tried not to show him her own pleasure; sometimes, it's best to keep things like that secret, she thought. 

He felt it coming, and didn't want it to end so quickly. He drew back, and felt her release him. It was the last straw. He erupted, his come pouring out of his cock hard. 

Her mouth was still open, and his come surged into her mouth, faster and harder than anyone had previously. She didn't normally like the taste of semen, but his tasted different. It was her concept of sex, perfectly defined in taste form. 

She felt herself come from the sheer force of his taste in her mouth. It was small, nothing compared to the excesses she had experienced from him in the past. She spat it out, her mind flicked to the night where her and her friends had all had him. It was singularly the most erotic night of her whole life. She was beyond tired after, but she could remember everything that had happened. It was unreal, and she had really suspected him of drugging them. Until she had seen the page on the internet, and had found the word, incubus. Then she had known. She had wanted him, wanted more, wanted everything he could give her. Wanted the life, the sex, he could give her. 

He tore at her panties, beneath the skirt she wore. It was a cheerleading skirt, or a netball skirt, so it was short, the lowest part just above her knees. Her panties were cotton, so it didn't take much for him to push them to one side, so he could slam straight into her, his cock straight to her pussy, his pubic hair hard up against her ass. She came explosively the second he entered; his cock was fire, pleasure incarnate. He wasn't human; it was the first time she truly understood. 

He rammed into her, doggystyle. His cock left her body completely before he slammed into her again, her pussy vibrating, pulsing with each thrust. 

She was alive, more alive than anyone he had fucked before; her energy was sweet, like bread to the hungry. He felt deprived, as though he had been going through a bare patch himself. He needed this; needed to come, to full her up, and make her his.

She felt his cock tense up within her, which was odd; most guys only tensed up exactly when they came, like, when they filled her mouth. She felt her own orgasm begin as his did; she had already worked out that her own condition was relative to his. His cock kept growing, and she felt it fill her deeper and deeper with every thrust. And he moved faster and faster, well past the hardest fuck she had ever had. Her nails ground into his thighs, as she moaned, her voice mouthing no words, her pleasure beyond them.

He screamed as her pussy closed around him; it was too much, far too much. He stiffened again within her; she came around him, her pussy closing around him like a vice. He felt it begin, the greatest orgasm of his life. It took him away from his body, filling him with fire, as he felt every liquid surge, magma from him to her. He felt everything that she was; every memory, every feeling, that she owned, his to hold for eternity.

She burned, far more than he ever could have thought possible. It was an orgasm, but wasn't. It was as though her body was his, completely and totally. She knew that he could see her mind, but so too she could see his, feel his memories. She felt his come change her, hit her deep, and modify her irrevocably.

The orgasm did not fade, and Mark kept thrusting until well into the morning.



The Cult of the Lamia Ch. 07



Cassie turned to him, smiling, her teeth glimmering in the morning light.

"You never told me that being you felt so good!"

He stared at her. She had changed after the first time, but he had been unable to stop fucking her, a slave to both of their desire, over and over, both of them perfect fucking machines. The sex all blended into one after the first time- neither of them needed sleep, and they just kept going, both fighting for control, for the most pleasure, neither of them needing to. They both felt tired in the morning, something that Mark found bizarre; he hadn't been tired ever since he had been turned. 

He climbed out of bed, and into the shower. The room was a mess, the drapes and curtains torn, the holes in them flapping in the icy morning wind. He needed the hot water, now.

The hot water reacted to the freezing air of the bathroom, filling the room with so much steam as to be unable to see anything. Mark turned the fan on, and stepped in. He washed his body, running soap all over himself. The steam swirled around him, wisps reaching out, fingers in the mist.

He opened his eyes, and saw Cassie, standing across the bathroom, her body standing to attention. Her eyes gleamed with sheer need, and there was a movement in the air in front of him. 

He looked down to see the steam collect, building into a shape that came up to his waist.

It was a woman, her entire body ethereal, her hair and body in continuous movement. She was shapely, but that did not matter as she was on her knees in front of him. She moved her head forwards, and her face looked up at him. He felt the mist envelop his cock, caressing, teasing, and was unable to help a moan. He could smell her; like the scent of a waterfall, in the middle of autumn.

He felt a touch on his shoulder, and he turned his head to see the water bend and shift over his shoulder, and caress his back. The water grew up from the floor of the shower, and he saw the upper body of a woman run her hands along the back of his legs, her touch wet, hot. She bent her head, and she began to lick at his ballsack.

Mark stood there, under this sort of scrutiny, as the mist and the water nymphs both swapped his cock between them. When the water nymph took him into her mouth, he felt the water whirl around his cock, jets streaming either side of him. The mist nymph ran her hands all along his body, caressing everything. He couldn't help it; he came hard, his come shooting through the mist. 

Cassie was still standing there, and her expression hadn't changed, but now there was a satisfaction about it. He looked at her, and smiled; two could play at that game, and he had had more time to practice.

Cassie started as she was lifted off her feet, and, as she tried to move her limbs, she found that she was bound tight. She was whirled slowly, legs over head, her legs splayed, her pussy wide. She could smell her own desire, and she needed more. The last night had been the best of her life, but she found that she wanted more. Far more.

She ended up in the shower, her legs over her head, her pussy directly under the shower head. He held the water, collecting it with his mind. She forced her head up; he permitted it, and she saw the sphere of water hovering over her pussy.

It undulated slowly, the water inside swirling. It moved slowly towards her groin, every drop from the shower diverting towards the ball, making it larger. It enveloped her lower body, completely covering her lower stomach, all the way down to her knees. It was warm, kind of how she felt when she just entered a hot bath, but here the water moved, running against the grain of the small hairs on the insides of her thighs, raising goosebumps all over her body. She looked up, and could see the sphere shrink, as the water collected. She gasped, as she felt it penetrate.

It ran into her softly, caressing over every surface. It was warm, impossibly warm, and she felt it grow hotter again. Her back arched, and her mouth opened in a silent scream. The heat spread through her body, filling her completely. 

The sphere continued flowing inwards, her vagina open wide. The water became impossibly dense within her, still swirling deep inside her. A bead of water was outside her, running over her clit, as the water within began moving, the water flowing like a tide, collecting near her entrance, before rushing deep within her, penetrating deeper than possible. Cassie lost her mind, her sight; she became heat, desire, water. 

When she came back to herself, she found herself upright, but still splayed. She was unable to move again, and the water was still inside her. 

It was warm and soft, moulding to her shape. The beads were still rubbing at her slit, and she felt it begin again, the water hotter than ever before.

He was behind her, and she could feel his heat, feel his cock standing in the cold air. She didn't know how, but she knew exactly where he was, his body, his cock. She knew where he wanted her to touch, and how he liked to fuck. She could see his mind, and she knew what he intended. She burned as the water became dense again, almost a second cock at his command.

He positioned himself at her ass, running his cock along her vagina. He pushed, her ass lubricated from the water and her come. She tensed, as the water inside her pulsed, the currents running along the walls of her pussy, thrilling her deep inside. He continued pushing.

She was so tight, and he could feel the pulsing of her sex around the water as though it were his own cock. She bucked, forcing him in to the root. Her body moved, up and down in the air, her body moving onto his cock, harder and harder. She succumbed to the feeling, her body impaled on his. She came and came and came, each orgasm greater than the last. They blended into one, and her body tightened around his penis. The water around them both bent, curving and coating them both in layers of water, rubbing and caressing around them both, them both using more limbs than they possessed. Each breath raised steam, both of them burning for each other.

He felt his own orgasm begin, and he thrust into her, far harder than before. His hands connected to her hips, and his cock slammed into her. The sound was muted by the water, but her screams were not. She reached behind her and bent over, her hands gripping his thighs, pulling him into her ass even more. She felt the water within her pussy expand, and explode in all directions, and she filled with fire.

The last thing she remembered when he erupted in her ass, his body holding her upright, filling her completely.

The man started. He was awake again; the blast of freezing water completely unnecessary, he thought. He opened his eyes, and widened them immediately; it was a woman, unlike anything he had ever seen before. He instantly knew she was one of the Chosen ones, and shook. He could hide nothing from this one. He felt his cock stand up; unlike a male, the females did not need to think about sex to make a woman want it- they were desire for men. 

She looked at him, her expression unreadable. At long last, he spoke.

"Why are you working with the Male? He can't offer you what we can. Countless men, countless orgasms. All for you." 

"You cannot give me anything that surpasses that which he gave me. Now," she said, leaning forwards, her top crinkling, showing off her cleavage. The man swallowed. "We can do this the easy way, or the far, far more pleasant way. Either way ends up exactly the same; me with the knowledge of where the Cult of the Lamia is based. You can live, or you can be fucked until you die. I know which one I want you to choose." 

She smiled; the smile of a lioness looking at prey. She sauntered over to him, and got on her knees in front of him. He quivered as she ran her tongue over the head of his cock. She looked up, her face swimming with desire. She smiled, and he felt his body tense up.

She took him deeply, far deeper than he had ever felt with a woman before. And her mouth was different again; it felt as though there was more than one tongue in her mouth, all of them licking a different part of his cock. She bobbed her head in a corkscrew motion, taking his whole length with every movement, her lips kissing the head of his cock with every thrust. He was frantic with need, thrusting against his will. He fought his orgasm every step of the way, but he couldn't help it; her mouth felt so good, and he could feel his cock ache. He felt her lean back, and place the head of his cock on the tip of her lips. Faster than he could see, she took all of him down her throat, sucking for all she was worth. He thrust up hard, his hips forcing her head backwards. He burned, all along his penis, his orgasm fierce. He felt himself ebbing, his vitality leaving him, his life force draining away.

She drank from him deeply, loving everything; the taste of his life, his stubbornness forcing her on, making his orgasm the stronger and sweeter. His come was irrelevant, but she swallowed it anyway; it didn't taste as bad as she had thought it would. She hadn't liked the taste of semen before, but his didn't taste too bad. And she was beyond any venereal disease- in fact, she thought, you could say she had the ultimate one.

She smiled at the thought, as she ran her teeth along the underside of his cock, scoring the sensitive skin slightly.

He was gasping. She was perfect, incredible. She could make him come as often as she liked; there was no doubt in him now. And she could drag his death out, before wringing him like a sponge. He paled at the thought, but he couldn't seem to make his cock go down. His mind was stuck on her, on her form. On the way she kept nibbling at his balls, the sensation not altogether pleasant, but each time she did it his cock flared up. 

She looked up at him. "Will you tell me? I will ask this question only once more, before consuming your soul, and knowing anyway. Even then, I might decide I will know anyway after I have had you."

She looked at him, consideringly. He thought she was sizing him up, and he wanted her badly. He forced the words out of his mouth; he wanted her badly, but he wanted not to be damned. He knew where she came from.

"A-A farm... Outside M-M-Martinsville. There is a barn there; go inside. There is a trapdoor, down to a c-c-complex. That is the headquarters of the Order of the Lamia." He hung his head, defeated.

Mark watched as Cassie walked out. She was in full command of herself as she looked at him, her energy spiking. 

"Well, that was fantastic. You should try it; I take it that you've not killed anyone yet?"

He shook his head. "I haven't found the right person; I definitely don't want to have someone who doesn't deserve it fill me up. I want a nice little catholic schoolgirl for supper right now, though."

Cassie smiled. "I might even have to tag along with you for that one; I do so love corrupting little altar boys!"

They both laughed, as they returned to Michelle, and told her what they knew.



The Cult of the Lamia Ch. 08



Michelle breathed heavily, the air in the room full of suppressed desire. Mark should have known better; Cassie in this form was sheer sex made flesh, and it was impossible not to be aroused around her. Succubi were desire, and not just for men. Mark knew that, before Cassie had come into her world, Michelle hadn't even considered fucking another girl, but now her mind was positively screaming to Cassie "PLEASE FUCK ME!!" 

It was hard for Mark to concentrate; Cassie and a hyper-charged Michelle in the same room, both of them majorly horny, made for difficult study.

"You know, Mark," Cassie said, her eyes on Michelle, "We could give this homework a miss, at least for a few hours." Her eyes burned as she looked at Michelle, who was quivering. She was frozen in place, rendered silent with need, shaking. Her mouth was clamped shut, her eyes shimmering with frustration. 

He rolled his eyes. "Cassie, if you want to stop for sex every few minutes just because we have a snack in the same room, how do you expect us to get anything done?"

"Surely we could have some fun; Michelle at least needs to relieve some tension. I'll make it up to you," Cassie said, batting her eyelids. She leant forwards, showing off her cleavage to its best advantage. Mark noted that she was flirting her chest at Michelle as well as himself, as he made sure she noticed him looking- it wouldn't do for her to think he wasn't attracted, even if he could feel her shape from miles away.

Mark walked over to Michelle, and cupped her face with his hand.

"What do you think, should we take a break?"

Michelle nodded, and her expression grew strained. 

"I-I can't k-keep this-s... y-you both... I can't..." She burst out crying, and Mark drew her, in, and modified his aura, making him exclude a comforting feeling. Michelle relaxed the instant she felt it. 

Cassie had the good grace to look a tad ashamed. Mark caught several surface thoughts; she was extremely sorry she had played with Michelle's senses, but she couldn't help it. Furthermore, Cassie was worried; there was no way a mortal could keep up with one of them, much less two. Michelle would burn out eventually, like a drug addict. She didn't know what to do.

Mark sent some images at her, some of his aura stretching towards Cassie. He had already thought of this; he had noticed the effect both himself and Cassie had on Michelle, and knew that she couldn't last long like this. 

"Cassie, give me some time alone with Michelle." 

Cassie nodded, and walked out.

They were in the basement of Marks house, outside the interrogation room. Michelle had supervised the creation of this room, ordering the computers and other various hardware they needed to track the Cult of the Lamia through both history and via official channels. They had been monitoring kidnappings and strange deaths in the area, and slowly expanding their search wider so that they could obtain a complete picture; they did not want to enter the base without having some small knowledge of the numbers and the discretionary powers the cult may have. It was a large room made small by the sheer weight of hardware within it; a supercomputer that created realistic algorithms with the statistics they had at their command, and collated data from the internet about what they searched for. It also skimmed the police websites, hacking in and adding police statistics that fit the profile to the database that they were creating.

Michelle sat at the computer desk, as Mark stood over her, his arms wrapped around her in a completely non-sexual manner. She sobbed into his chest, and he let her.

"Mark," she said, as she recovered, "I can't keep this up for much longer. Each time I look at you, or at her, I want to fuck and fuck so badly you both kill me. It would be better for me to leave you now than become less than I am. I..." She swallowed hard.

Mark held her. "I know, I've been thinking about that too. You forget, I'm as aware of your desire as you are; sometimes a little more."

She pushed him away, her eyes finding his. "What are you going to do? I don't want to leave you at all, yet I don't want to become as mindless as my desire makes me. I want to help, I just..."

Mark leaned over the computer, and hit a series of keys he had programmed earlier. A bar came up, asking for a password. 

"Michelle, I entered into this computer a series of information; DNA, complex analysis. Basically, I wrote a program on this computer that analyses my status, and any possible weaknesses. It was in case we ever came up against another incubus, or a succubus. However, the program didn't do what I wanted it to; I need to update my DOS skills. It is the blueprints to making an incubus or a succubus, if you want it. Everything is in here; all you need to do is type in the password."

He walked away, and left Michelle in the basement, her body leaning into the chair.

Michelle typed furiously, her hair getting in her eyes. She was truly, truly sick of feeling helplessly aroused, and being unable to do anything about it. The sex helped, but it was like scratching a mosquito bite; each time she tasted the desire, she wanted it again, more and more and more. She knew it, but she didn't want to be a slave to it anymore. But she longed for it too. It was impossible not to want it. The tension was driving her insane. She felt feverish, hot with need, but she shivered in the darkness, the only light the computer screen, with its password.

She didn't know why he didn't tell her why he had left her to work out the password; she supposed that he would have some great wise answer,- "You needed to find the answer yourself" or "if you cannot find the answer, you do not truly want what it means", something along those lines- but she didn't really care. She wanted this, wanted to find out how to become one of them. 

She tried everything. Cult, cultist, Lamia, Astartë, succubi, incubi. Mark's address. Mark's phone number. His birthday, and the day he was turned. She looked through the files, searching through all the historical data for a clue. She tried the Nameless Day, as well as the date when the Templars were found guilty of witchcraft. She tried the names of prominent druids, and anagrams of dead victims they were sure were linked to the cult. Nothing worked.

She was almost asleep when something occurred to her. Something so simple she should have thought of it herself, and she cursed Mark for the cliché. 

Michelle, she typed, and hit the enter key. 

Confirmed.

There was a low hiss, and Michelle jumped; a panel of the wall opened, running away inside one of the walls like an automatic door. She looked back at the screen; enter, it said. 

She got up. She was cold now, but wide awake. Full of trepidation. More than a little nervous. She was stiff from having sat in the chair for so long. There was no noise but the sound of machines whirring, no light but that from the screen. And the writing had changed colour, but Michelle couldn't have said when it moved from a cold white to a dull green. It sent shadows of green light around the room, creating new darkness.

Michelle stepped through the entrance. The floor was hard; stone, Michelle thought. Cut stone. She got her mobile phone out of her pocket to light the way, but it must've run out of batteries. She mentally rolled her eyes at the horror movie-esque-ness to this circumstance- Mark loves his clichés, she thought- but she continued down the steps.

The sound of machines only increased, and Michelle noticed that there was a light growing down the passage. It was dim, the same green as the light from the screen above, but it was stronger, and more radiant. It mutated every surface, creating depth where there was none, and shading everything in this mutant green. 

The chamber was round, surrounded as the room above with hardware, but here the machines appeared to have grown themselves, vile plants in their own world. Huge wiring, connecting giant cubicles of microchips and processors, all moving, all waving in the moving light.

In the centre of the room, there was a series of steps, similar to that an altar would have surrounding them. Instead of an altar, there was a flat surface, cold, unmoving. 

"Lie on the board, Michelle", a voice came from the corner. Cassie appeared, the green suffusing her features, transforming her completely. Michelle was truly scared now; she was almost thinking of leaving. 

"C-Cassie, what... what's happening?"

"Lie on the board. You will see. This is all for you." Cassie cast her hands around the room, spinning. 

"These machines are the result of a project created for the Master. He wanted to be able to make one like himself, from you. He wants you to be with him, but be yourself. This is all for him, for you. You will become the Mistress."

Michelle took a step back. "You're not really Cassie, are you?"

Cassie came closer. She moved faster than Michelle expected, appearing beside her, and Michelle could see the differences. Where Cassie was animated, this was almost lifeless; where Cassie was wild, this was dead. And she could feel the difference in the hand that seized her wrist, and slung her to its shoulders.

"Relax. This will be pleasurable for you, Mistress."

She lay her down on the board, and she felt rather than saw the clamps wrap around her wrists and ankles. She felt the board mould around her body, flexing to her contours. It wrapped her in a warmth that was not altogether comfortable under the best of circumstances; and Michelle was not in the mood to take this treatment well.

She raised her head, and saw the fake Cassie standing to one side.

"What are you going to do to me?"

"Initiate sequence. Part one commencing..." 

Michelle felt her legs being pulled wider, and bands appear either side of her breasts. The bands reached around, and wrapped her breasts, rubbing the nipples. She gasped; she could feel pressure down below, near her lower stomach. She looked up; there was the machine girl, standing over her, expression empty, eyes vacant. Dead. Michelle's mouth opened in horror when she looked down. 

The creature's every part was connected to the table on which Michelle lay, wires running between them from every orifice. She was naked, and she looked like a woman, but between her legs there was a thick bundle of wires, all seething, all moving. She saw sparks fly between two wires, and she watched as the wires connected to the table beneath her, and some tendrils crept towards her. 

They rubbed along her lower stomach, and Michelle arched her back; it was pleasurable. But then she felt them dig in, deeper than she had ever thought possible. They surely had pierced her skin. She didn't look down; couldn't risk looking down.

She felt something hot issue out of the tendrils in her stomach, and she convulsed. The sensation was unpleasant, but she felt as though she was going to...

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!" she screamed, as her entire lower half caught fire, her orgasm intense. It was different to the infectious sex of Mark, because this sensation didn't make her want more of it. But it still left a mark on her; she could feel her entire lower body, could sense the heat surrounding it. 

"Part two commencing..."

She felt the bands around her breasts loosen, but only around the top; her nipples were now exposed to the air. She saw the tendrils moving towards her, felt them run lightly over her nipples, before inserting something deep inside them. It made her bite her lip, but again she felt the magma consume her, filling her up from within. 

She felt her upper body growing hot, and she experienced the oddest orgasm of her life. It didn't touch her lower body, centring on her breasts, and Michelle loved it. 

Her eyes closed, Michelle didn't see the thick tube until it was too late. Her face was gripped by the table, tendrils holding her in place, as the tube entered her mouth, forcing its way down her throat. It pumped the same liquid inside her, filling her up. This hurt like hell, her head completely on fire. Her mind caught ablaze, and for what felt like eternity she felt agony beyond anything. 

When it had finished, she felt different. She could sense everything; she could hear the kettle going off next door, the school bells going at least a kilometre away. All these sounds, not to mention the strange sense of heat that bounced off objects. She could see more; the room wasn't merely green, but red, and magenta too. She felt the radiation wash over her, and could sense that it would be harmful to her if she remained too long unfinished.

Hang on a minute. Unfinished, Michelle thought? 

She could sense the waves of the room, feel the power, and her mind was capable of making sense of every set of numbers, of everything. There was one more.

"Part three commencing..."

She opened her eyes, knowing what was in store for her. The machine mounted her, the bundle of wires all wrapping around each other, frantic, selfish, each one wanting to be first. She felt the first penetration as a shock, as the tendrils crept in, wires penetrating every tissue and flooding it with liquid. Michelle experienced the most painful orgasm of her life, as each wire inserted itself into her body, and injected her full of pleasure, the injection killing with pain, the liquid filling her up with heat. She arched her back, and she heard the machines build up.

She screamed out loud, as she felt power being pumped into her via her pussy, and she blacked out.

Michelle.... 

What, she thought groggily. Go away, I'm not here.

Michelle.... 

Well fine then. She opened her eyes.

Mark's face was there, dark rings around his eyes. She caught his worry, his guilt. She wanted to comfort him, but knew that he wanted her to be better first.

"Mark..."

"Michelle, how are you feeling?"

She smiled, the expression easy. "I feel wonderful."

She reached up, her hand caressing his face. 

Then she slapped him.

"How could you do that to me, without telling me what to expect, without... without...."

Words completely failed her. She was furious. To hell with making him feel better.

He backed up quickly, guilt turning to alarm, then anger.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realise just what the process would take. I..."

She looked at him, her gaze appraising. She could feel his heat, but his mind was blank right now. She supposed he was good at hiding what he truly thought.

"But it needed to be done, and I did not know of the procedure myself beforehand. Do you really think that I have so little regard for you that I would be willing to risk you going mad, simply to satisfy my own appetite?"

She smiled inwardly. "So you gave it to me, without knowing whether or not it would work, or even if your computer had made a mistake. Not a risk at all."

He was well and truly roused. He lunged at her, his entire body huge. 

She jumped up, and slapped him again.

He grabbed her arm, and forced her down, over the bier. Her body was forced across it, and she felt him grab her hips. His first thrust was ambrosia, orgasm, fresh perfect heat. She loved it, everything about it. Sex was the best thing ever. Forget about fighting him, she thought. She forced her hips back hard at him, her thrusts meeting his with equal force, each stroke demanding violence. She raked at his thighs with her nails, lunging and hitting out with her fists, all the while thrusting back at him. He slapped her ass, gripping her shoulders and neck hard enough to leave marks. He flipped her over, and bit her shoulder hard. She cried out, and drove him deeper within her as she returned the favour.

He felt it begin, but he didn't stop her punishment. You could have died, his movement said. You scared the shit out of me. 

She felt it, and fucked him back, her nails clawing and scratching his shoulderblades and buttocks as he rode her out. She felt his orgasm begin, and her own joined his, as they soared higher than either had ever gone before.

They kept going, and when they finally stopped, there was no furniture left.



The Cult of the Lamia Ch. 09



It was raining. Michelle hurried from shelter to shelter, trying- unsuccessfully- to remain unwet. She had been scoping out several bars, hoping to locate another cultist. They wanted to find out the identity of someone higher than a simple member, to get some hard information on the numbers, and what they might be up against. Cassie had been optimistic, thinking that, if they caught someone higher up they would "convince" them to not kidnap people- maybe even not kill. Mark, on the other hand, was not convinced, but he wanted to try. 

Mark was in the next town, running his mind across as much territory as he could. Michelle was stunned by the sheer amount of his abilities; he could sink into any mind, any thought, and shift it to his will. Any fantasy, any need, he inserted himself into in a way that was almost artistic. He was getting stronger too; his range had grown, as had his control. He could walk through a room and touch every mind inside individually, and coax a response from them all. He had even worked out a way to feed subconsciously, but he still had sex as often as he could. 

She caught something, away to her left. Both a noise, and a thought. He was chasing someone. But his mind was strange; it was a mass of mirrors and broken glass. Her thoughts reflected off him like the rain off her body. She locked on.

She had noticed, fairly early on, that she could do that. Lock on to someone, and make them want her, even need her. She hadn't tested the edges yet, but she was fairly sure she was stronger than Cassie. They way she was made had made her powerful beyond even Mark. Just as Mark could link minds individually, she could tell how hot everyone in a room was without looking. With her eyes closed, she could read everything as a heat signature. Her mind reading was different too; when they spoke, Mark said his was kind of like listening to far away music, and that he could catch snatches when he tuned in. For her it was like everyone was a piece of art, all conflicting colours and shapes that made perfect sense in her head. This image that she got of this one was interesting.

She saw a more complete picture now. He was definitely a cultist, but he wasn't looking for a man. He was searching for a woman, and a particular woman at that. She saw something along the lines of a rite, involving a girl being bent over an altar, and a man standing above her with a dagger. The image was from the man's perspective, and she smiled. They had found their high cultist.

She followed him, into the bar. He was relatively attractive; dark good looks, muscular but not ridiculous. He was taller than Michelle by at least a few feet, topping 6.5, probably. A big man, and a dangerous one. There was something about his mind, a sort of buffer that Michelle had never encountered before. The picture she encountered was hazy, as though some of it was shrouded by fog, rendering her unable to see through it. 

The cultist chatted up a blonde, and the woman was more than receptive. She leant towards the cultist, a smile toying at the corner of her mouth. The blonde was attractive, but she wasn't really anything special. The cultist leant in, and spoke into the blonde's ear, and she got up, and sauntered towards the door.

Michelle had lost them in the alleys. She was trying to locate them both with her mind, but they were nowhere. It was as though they had both vanished. 

She wasn't paying attention, and tripped over a bin. Cursing, she stood up to see that she had walked down a service lane for a restaurant. Great. A dead end.

Michelle turned around. But her senses were better than Marks were; she heard the footsteps behind her. She spun, and the woman was there, swinging a frying pan at her head, and then she saw nothing.

Thwak!!!

Owww, Michelle thought. That hurt. 

She opened her eyes. She was in a similar chamber to the one Mark had in his basement, the one they used for interrogating cultists. Michelle came to certain conclusions at this point.

"You know the best thing about torturing a Grigori?" a male voice said, from the shadows in front of her. "Not only can I not really hurt you, but I can't even damage you; not at least by using conventional methods. I can hit you, and hurt you to my heart's content, and you won't be any different. I don't have to worry about holding back. It's fantastic." The voice was childlike in tone, but the depth of the voice was adult. 

"I would ask you why you are searching for us, but that's not really the question, is it? You are Grigori; you are built to be good, but have sin embedded inside you. You, who abandoned heaven to walk the world, fucking mortals to retain the spark of the divine inside of you. But the question is, why are you trying to find us now? We have been here, in this world, for millennia; why are you only just interfering now?"

Michelle shook her head. "What the FUCK," she said, quite definitely," is a Grigori?"

She felt the movement behind her, and flinched away just as the club whistled over head. 

"Don't play with me. I can, and I will hurt you. I want to."

He was a tiny, small man. She could see all of his ribs, as well as the bones in his shoulders. His face was animated, infused with mad passion. he was naked, and Michelle couldn't help but look down. He had easily the biggest cock she had ever encountered. It stood high against his stomach, looking faintly ridiculous given his height and width, but it throbbed with need. She shivered.

He cackled. "That's right, my dear. You know what I am, don't you? An actual, Iive and in the flesh- literally- incubus demon. Not like the fake your friend Mark is pretending to be."

He laughed again, but this time his laughter was genuine. He was watching Michelle's face. 

"You really have no idea what you are, do you? That's funny. You have so much power, so much potential, but you are so very ignorant!"

"Incubi are not formed, are not flesh; they are summoned into a host from hell. I am possessing this meatsack for the express purpose of making your world the hell that you will never experience."

"Fun, fun, funn..." He murmered, his voice trailing away as he turned around.

He spun completely, his face thoughtful as he began and animated when she saw it next, and she felt truly scared for the first time. 

"What do you know of us?" the man said, his entire being waiting for her to refuse. Michelle could see into his mind, and knew what he wanted, what he would do if she didn't do what he wanted. She saw his desire, and smiled inwardly. He was so, so stupid. 

She shook her head. 

The cultist sprung forwards, his expression pure and utter insanity, his cock hitting his stomach as he moved. She lunged back; he wanted her to fight, and it would finish better if she did what he wanted. 

She planted her heels firmly at the centre of his chest, leaning back as she kicked him hard. She felt the bones under his skin break, and saw him topple over. She rolled over, as the kick had left her on her back, but before she had even gotten to one side she felt his hands on her, rolling her backwards.

He wrestled with her, his wiry strength barely enough to hold her arms in place. She was tied to the chair, and that aided her efforts; he couldn't keep her body in the position he wanted for very long.

Finally, he had enough. He tore out the bottom of her chair, the cane wicker screeching as he bared her ass. She shrieked as he rolled her onto her knees. 

He grabbed her hips and forced his tongue into her pussy, and she squirmed, trying to get away. She fought his hold, but thrust her hips back at him; this would be easier and far, far more pleasurable for her if she was at least a little horny.

She had noticed, ever since she had been turned that her appetite had expanded; she found that she was more than attracted all sorts of guys, whatever their looks or their skill. She wanted it all.

It came as no surprise to her that she actually enjoyed it as forced his full length inside her. 

He loved it, as she twisted her pussy around him, tightening her hold. She had him now, had his cock. She had his life hard up inside of her, thrusting, ready. She could take him whenever she wished.

He withdrew almost all the way out of her before thrusting back in; because his cock was so long, the movement actually took quite a bit of movement, and required him to step backwards, before stepping back again. Michelle supposed she looked a tad ridiculous, with this tiny man's huge cock fucking into her, but she didn't care. 

The thought barely brushed her mind before it vanished, as he thrust again, and again. He was huge, and it would have hurt had she been anyone else. He filled her like she had never. And it was more than that; she thrust back at him, driving him deeper, wanting more. 

He withdrew, sensing her eagerness. She couldn't read his mind at the moment, but she felt what he was doing. She wriggled her ass, moving her bound hands to spread her asscheeks, as he forced the head of his cock into her ass. She gasped; for the first time since she had been turned, it hurt. It hurt like absolute hell. He cock was far too big, and too thick, for her to take it the way he was. He thrust, paying her no heed to her pain, and he forced his entire cock within her. She moved away compulsively, away from his cock, but he grabbed her hips just before they swelled out, and used the grip to fuck her harder. She cried out, but the sound was purely pain. Desire had fled.

Michelle surrendered to the movement, allowing him her body at his leisure. She couldn't stop him, couldn't stop the sheer pain of him fucking her ass, so she just let herself drift, leaving her body.

She felt his emotions; sheer bliss, lust. He loved it, causing her to hurt. She could feel his orgasm building. She was beyond thought, tensing around him, bringing him closer. She sipped his life well before he came, and drank deeply as he began.

He cried out, his orgasm huge, powerful. He loved it, loved the power, loved fucking without consent. And this was a prize beyond all others; a Grigori. One of God's own. 

She stoked his heat, swallowing his soul harder and harder. She took him within her, and she loved it, wanted it far more than he did. The deeper she drank, the harder he came, his semen flooding into her. 

He should have died already, she thought at last, still draining him. She looked over her shoulder, at him. He was even more emaciated, his bones creating crevices between his ribs. His cock was still hard, but he was pale, almost to the point of being pallid. 

"It won't work on me, girl. I am possessing this body. You can drain it as much as you like. It just makes me feel better. Imagine, you trying to kill my meat just to get to me?"

She stopped, almost vomiting. She still couldn't penetrate deeply, but she could see his possession on the surface of the man's mind. 

She held her breath. She felt around, sensing the demon's mind, the possession. She stroked it, bringing it closer, tugging at the hold it had over the body. She stroked him to an orgasm again, using the muscles around his cock to squeeze and stoke him to greater heights. But now she drew on the possessing spirit within him, drawing his power first, then weakening his hold on the body. She felt the demon struggling, and took the last of his strength away, and the man cried out, the freedom combined with the fact that his cock was still in her making him flood into her again.

That was all she needed.

She took the demon within her, and was filled with the greatest orgasm of her life. She felt him struggling, fighting to find a way out of her hold, but she stemmed his battle, and sipped his mind, his strength ebbing away. The sensation of him losing, of his soul conceding all sense of self, burned within her, and she arched her back, moaning her pleasure. 

"Stop. I would not have the host harmed."

Michelle came back to herself. The man still was inside her ass, and he was still coming hard. His soul was almost free of his body, and it took force of will for her not to take it out of hand. She began to think again.

"Why? If you want him, he is my only bargaining chip. If you don't, then I could well use the energy." 

The voice came again, this time from the corner away to Michelle's right. She could see the faint silhouette, but no details.

"Do not take him. If you let us have him, we will ensure you are freed. But we wish to talk first." Michelle relaxed her muscles around his cock, and drew herself forwards. The silhouette came out of the shadows; it was a woman, and she had a similar mind to the man. A demon, then.

"Why are you trying to stop us, Grigori? We are not affecting you; we are not harming you at all. You have never interfered at any other point. Why?"

Michelle smiled. "All you had to do was ask nicely."

The woman stared back stonily. She was small, even giving Michelle a run for her money. Her face was pixie-like, her cheekbones framing a set of penetrating blue eyes. 

"You are kidnapping men and women, and killing them as sacrifices to your god, or whatever. We are telling you, stop. Do not kill people, or hurt them in any way, and we will have no issue. Continue the way you have been, and we will be forced to end you."

The demon looked at her, her face carved porcelain. She wore fairly normal clothing; tight, tight jeans, a clinging top, but the centrepiece was the necklace.

It was ornate, wrought silver surrounding a huge black stone. Michelle would have said onyx, but this stone did not seem to reflect the light of the room. She took her eyes off it, and returned back to the woman's face.

"Is that all? I find this ironic, considering that you have to kill to survive yourself."

"What do you mean?"

The demon sighed. "Do not play dumb at me. I know all about how Grigori feed, how they act. You are the first watchers we have encountered for a millennia, and we defeated them last time. You need human life force to survive as we do; do not play moralist with me."

Michelle couldn't hold it in any longer. "Sorry, but what the Fuck are you talking about?"

The demon looked at her strangely, then laughed with genuine amusement. 

"Do you really not know? About anything?"

Michelle looked at her, expectantly. The demon smiled widely.

"So, at what price to demand this information? What have you to trade for it? I know something that you want to know, so what to do with it?" Michelle leant closer. "You forget, I could leave you without your life, demon."

The demon's grin widened. "You know what, I would like to watch you try. I'll tell you, but only so you know what you are actually up against.

"At some point in history, God became aware of our activities, and sent down from heaven some lesser angels to be the Watchers of mankind. Two hundred angels, who watched the human race. But they saw the men, and the women, and they all decided to fall, as had Lucifer, so as to sample the pleasures of human life. The process of falling endowed you with different abilities than you would have experienced as a full angel, but it allowed you to survive with your powers intact for longer. You can replenish your batteries by fucking, by absorbing orgasmic energy. Your god, it seems, has an extreme sense of humour. 

"Because you are damned, far more than we could ever be. We were merely human souls, sent to hell to serve. You had evidence of the divine, and you threw it away for pussy. Or cock. And you are condemned to watch this world until the end of days."

The demon sat back. "You know what, I think I will let you go. Most of the other watchers have forgotten who they are too, and the rest simply do not care. But then..." 

Michelle felt the light intensify on her body, and she saw nothing as the blow came to the back of her head.



The Cult of the Lamia Ch. 10



Michelle...

I really don't want to wake up. It hurts plenty asleep.

Michelle, come back. The voice was almost sobbing.

I'm fine here. It doesn't hurt here. There is nothing else. No cocks, not fists, no nothing. There isn't even heat. 

Michelle, please. Well, fine. You can have me again. Hope you treat me better this time.

She opened her eyes, and found herself in a hospital ward. Cassie and Mark stood over the bed, and there was a third man who she did not recognise. He was at least relatively attractive, but wasn't exceptional. And attractive wasn't one of the characteristics she valued at this point; she could recall how she woke up, before she was thrown out of the moving car. 

*

Her mind was fuzzy. She couldn't feel the world around her, even through the heat signatures were off the chart. She could feel bodies around her, but the drugs in her system had thrown her sense of self away. She couldn't tell where she was, where her own body ended, and the others began. It was simply a mass of heat, and of need and want. She flexed her will, completely unconsciously, as they wanted. They all got hard, every single one of them. And their clothes vanished.

"See. She is Chosen. You cannot harm her flesh. She needs a lesson in manners, though. Do as you wish; she will be unable to drain you."

The voice, had Michelle been aware of herself, was the female demon, and it was again cold. The demon sat back, reclining in a chair towards the edge of the room they were in. It was a small undistinguishing room, with only one entrance, next to the demon's chair. She lit a cigarette; this should be fun.

One of the men stepped forwards, and grasped Michelle's breasts in his hands. They were bigger and firmer since she had been turned, but they were still barely bigger than a B cup. Her head hung from her shoulders, and her eyes were half open. She didn't see the rest of the men step forwards, or feel their hands on her body. 

They felt her curves however they wanted; roughly, gently. She felt her own body through their collective, and they felt her enjoyment. One of them gripped her head, leaning the chair on which she sat backwards. He placed his cock into her mouth, and began to pump his hips into her. 

She was dimly aware of her body gagging, but she felt her throat close over his cock as a spasm of sheer delight. She stoked his heat, and ran invisible fingers along his length, stroking him higher.

The other men were watching, their hands on their cocks. Another looked lewdly at her pussy, and saw how much she wanted it. Her clit was swollen with need, and it was clearly visible among the flower of her lips. He bent down between her legs, and ran his tongue fully along her pussy, and tasted her juice.

It was Aphrodite, it was Venus. Human orgasm in liquid form. He was buoyed up by the sensation; she communicated her own pleasure to all of them, still stroking her body, as the one man filled her throat, almost at the threshold of orgasm anyway.

Two men bent, and started to suckle her nipples, and she as she arched her back, the others felt her mind wrap all of their cocks in an invisible embrace. The air around them coalesced, and they saw woman shaped creatures, their weightless bodies thrusting joyfully away, their heels hammering away. They all forced the men deeper, harder, faster.

The demon stood up, and bent over Michelle's supplicated body, her legs still apart, the man no longer feasting on her taste. She closed her eyes, and bent down, between Michelle's legs. She bit down on Michelle's clit, and Michelle writhed hard, her eyes wide open now, the pain fighting for supremacy against her huge overwhelming orgasm. The hurt only made the consequent orgasm stronger, and the fire which ravaged through her body hotter. It seared her soul, and her pleasure made every man in the room cry out, their own minds swamped with an orgasm that their minds were not prepared to deal with. They all collapsed, their bodies hitting the floor.

The demon, however, was still between Michelle's legs, still nibbling on Michelle's clit. She stuck her hand between her legs, and between the demon's legs, the shadows of the room coalesced, and became rigid. The demon stood up, and held the dark phallus hard up against Michelle's pussy, rubbing her slit with its dark heat. Michelle leant towards it, and impaled herself on sheer evil.

It felt better, easier, than any sex she had ever had before. It burnt through her, every foulness, every dark emotion within her. Pain, jealousy, hate, anger. Guilt. She felt them all, but all as desirable. All having their own little orgasms, their own deep burning. 

The demon rode her hard, her breath coming out in ragged pants. For her it was sheer bliss. She flet as she had when she was human, and she had first succumbed to His service. His dark powers had animated her body, had filled her with such lust and heat, that she had lost her mind and given her soul without thought. She had been his concubine for well over twelve thousand years. Her name was Lilith. 

Michelle felt herself build to a powerful, powerful climax. It hurt, how intense the lust was burning in her now. She felt evil spurt itself within her, and the final emotion came out within her; avarice. She wanted more, and more, and more. The lust, the need, the sex. She wanted to be the whore of the devil, wanted to fuck Lucifer only until the end of time. Wanted to kill, to murder, to glut herself on orgasms at other's pain, over and over and over. And she felt shame, deep profound shame. There was no going back from this. None.

*

"Mmmm..." Her eyes were open, but filled with such incredible pain that Mark felt sheer and utter animal rage. Michelle's body, when found, was covered in lacerations and burns, not to mention the bruises she had experienced from being thrown out of a moving car. Her mind was so low that Mark could see her thoughts without trying, and he saw everything. The drugged up orgy, the subsequent fucking by the female. But what hurt most was the fact that Michelle was bleeding. She was immortal; she couldn't bleed. She couldn't be hurt by physical means. For her to have wounds, it meant that her mind was so hurt, so deeply hurt by her ordeal that her unconscious mind had fled. Whatever powers she had, she was now...

He sat back in his chair, and sobbed.



The Cult of the Lamia Ch. 11



Cassie heard Mark's sorrow, but stayed focused on Michelle. She absorbed the details of Michelle's torture, and of the interrogation, as objectively as she was able. She could see the thoughts in Mark's mind turning around- he was rage now. Pure and utter fury. There would be no stopping him when he came out of this hospital; he would rend and tear and hurt. She could feel it already; his mind was ranging outwards, as his heat grew. He was absorbing information at an incredible rate, and she stood there. She would have to be the objective one in this. It would do nothing for Michelle if Mark was killed.

Mark got up, no longer crying. His eyes glittered, first yellow, then green. He seemed to flick through all the colours he thought of: orange, blue, purple. He settled on a deep blood red. Red was fitting. It suited his mood. It suited the destruction he would wreak. 

Cassie started, when she heard a snarl. 

"There is one Here. How Dare They?" his voice came out as a whisper, yet everyone heard it. The doctor took a step back, and looked uneasy. Mark marched out of the room, with Cassie full on his tail.

He wasn't using his eyes. He saw the walls, the people, as heat and reflections. As he passed, everyone experienced a flush of body heat, as he stole some of their essence without being aware of it. 

He stalked through a doorway, and into a patient's room. He looked down, onto the patient in the darkness. This was a long term patient, on life support. Cassie picked up the chart; major brain damage, and limited brain activity. This man was damn near dead.

Mark stopped for a second, able to recognise a quandary when he saw one. 

"Cassie, what can you sense from this man?"

She looked at the patient on the table, and saw multiple things. Firstly, she saw his muscles, and how the time lying down had atrophied them. She saw the damage to his mind, but also saw that his brain activity was being actively suppressed. 

"Mark..." he started, turning around. It was a whisper, barely anything at all. It sounded like the wind. "Mark..."

Mark looked at the man on the bed, and used his eyes for the first time. He saw the lips move.

"Mark..." the man said, his eyes not open, but his lips moving. Mark moved closer. 

Suddenly, the man's body seized up, and gripped Mark's forehead. He felt a current pass through his mind, and he blacked out.

"Mark... You can hear me, I know it."

Mark opened his eyes, and saw that he was in a brilliant white room, sitting in a white chair, across from an individual sitting in an equally white chair, wearing a white robe. The effect of all of this whiteness was sheer sensory overload. 

Mark shut his eyes for a second.

"Come on Mark, we both know you're stronger than that."

"Who are you?"

"I am known by many names-" "And we both know that that particular phrase has been used more times in fiction than any other, and that it's a dirty great cliché. Seeing as I like clichés, I'll let you off this once. Now, get to the point." Mark said, with his eyes shut, before opening them and wincing. 

"Could you have picked a better- or at least dimmer- spot for this little get together?"

The man burst out laughing. "That's what I always like about you, Grigori. You always knew exactly what to say to screw something up. It's like a talent. I'm the ultimate fallen angel. I'm Lucifer. We're here to talk about you little pet, Michelle."

Mark got serious in a hurry. He controlled himself, holding his emotions inside.

"What is there to talk about? Your pets raped her, and damn near killed her. So I'm going to fuck them until they're dead. Simple. I would have thought that you got that."

Lucifer leaned in. "It is definitely not that simple, Mark. You do not understand what you did, in making Michelle the way you did.

"She is neither a possessed human, or a Grigori, as you and that pretty one are. She is a human with a soul, who is possessed of powers that even I cannot match in the corporeal world. Speaking of possessed, though; she is still quintessentially human, and can still be possessed and damned as a human. She is the turning point, the one who can win the world for me, or can close the doors to the Divine for all of us. No heaven, no hell. Us demons would be shut in our little furnace, humans and their Watchers stuck on Earth, and God and his celestial big band up in his little theatre, still blowing their own trumpets. Now, I ask you, what can I do to convince you not to fuck with me? My girl, Lilith, used a particular sort of... well, I suppose you could say, magic, when she took Michelle, and it planted the seeds of evil in her. No," he said, seeing Mark start forwards, "Not pregnant, but probably much worse for you. She feels all of the sins around her as pleasure. She will grow to enjoy murder, and torture, and pain. She will get off on innocent pain. She will love to feed and feed until she kills, and she will revel in it." He sat back in his chair, satisfied in what he saw in Mark's face.

"She will become better than a succubus for me, in her collection of souls, because she cannot be dismissed, and she is stronger even than you, boy. Hell, she's stronger than me too. Like I said, you've changed things. And now, you're going to have to pay for them.

"Here's my deal. I can remove Michelle's taint, and I can make her as she was before the accident. The tradeoff is that you have to leave my activities on the earth alone. I deal in souls, and come the end of days, the man with the most bodies wins. God has a head start on me, and I need to really start kicking up my activities, which I can't do if you end them. Furthermore, you have to destroy the machine which made Michelle the way she is, so that you cannot create more of like her. One who can destroy the balance is plenty for me."

Mark sat back, stunned out of his rage. "Does that mean that you will ignore us, if we ignore you?"

Lucifer smiled. "No. I reserve the right to try to capture Michelle as often as I want; think of how much I would enjoy it if she made the world mine even without the End of Days? She closed the door between heaven and the rest of the world, and made mine and this one the only realities? No, Mark, I will not agree to leave you and yours alone. You are to valuable a player to be left alive, and Michelle is the key to instant success."

Mark stood up. 

"Then fuck you and your deal, Lucifer. I will find another way to heal Michelle, even if it requires my life. I will destroy every last remanent of your cult, and make sure that there is no way for you to get souls from this world."

Lucifer's smile grew wider. "What if I modified the deal? What if, instead of Michelle having the taint, what if you could take it into yourself? With no strings attached? You can continue to hunt us, and we will be less able to stop you. But here's the rub; with every person you kill, I get their soul. You will be the exact same as an incubus, except that you have a choice not to kill. But imagine, having that piece of hell inside of you, twisting your view around? "

Mark sat back down. "Why are you so confident? You are offering me a way out."

"Because Mark, you are likely to live until the end of days anyway. You are far, far more powerful than any servant I have had in the past. And, frankly, I like you. You and your little group make my heart cockles warm. The main reason the Grigori forgot who they were was due to their loss of self worth in their fall. I fell deliberately, because the big man up there thought that I should bow to a meatsack. When they fell, for a much crappier reason than I did- for pussy- they lost most of their divinity, and so they despaired. They were absorbed into the human race, and the two hundred of them lost their minds and their bodies. Then we have you, the most ignorant Grigori I have ever seen, protecting humans like you were supposed to. You are a Joke, Mark. How can I not find you funny?"

Lucifer began to laugh, and laugh, and laugh. Mark looked stonily at the him, while he thought in overtime. Did he think that he could deal with the taint within himself better than Michelle? Michelle was definitely smarter, but she wasn't quite as- well- moral as he was. The end justified the means for Michelle, and if all potential for good were withdrawn from her she could become a wrecking ball. 

"Lucifer."

He stopped laughing. "Yes Mark?"

"Transfer Michelle's taint to me. Let her live free of your filth."

Lucifer started laughing again, until Mark's ears burnt. His head began to spin, and he felt his body seize up, as he left the white room for his body.

Michelle's eyes widened, and her wounds healed instantly. She could still remember the rape, and how it felt, but the way she had wanted it, wanted it all had left her. She felt free of all of the evil that had spent itself within her, and she could have gotten up and danced.

Cassie caught Mark's body, before it hit the floor, but as soon as he did, she saw his eyes open.

He smiled, but there was a darkness to the blood red of his eyes that wasn't there before.

"Cassie, my dear," Mark whispered, and he raised his hand to her face, caressing her jaw. 

"What happened to you Mark? Are you ok? That guy just grabbed your face, and..." She trailed away, as she felt Mark's other hand wrap around her waist. She looked at his face again, and could feel his erection. 

She wanted him as much as he wanted her. She drew aside her underwear, and lifted her skirt. She pulled down his zipper, and took him down her throat, wetting his hot shaft in her saliva. He tasted different; not quite so sweet now as he was before, more a salty, guilty sort of a taste, one which made her pussy pulse.

He grabbed her hips, and brought them to his face, covering her lips in kisses and bites. He was far, far rougher than he had ever been in the past, and she felt the pain as keenly as the pleasure. But soon the orgasm she felt overwhelming her senses made for forget the pain, and she screamed out, his cock still deep inside her face. He thrust up into her as she came, his cock forcing Cassie to gag. 

She raised her head, and started to say, Mark, what's gotten into you, but she never got the chance. He flipped her over, and fucked his cock into her pussy with one hard deep thrust. She ended up screaming "MARK!!!" as a substitute. 

He thrust into her, completely oblivious to anything she could have said. He had her hips in his hands, and raised her off the floor slightly to meet his cock harder. He then tried something he had only just thought of.

He left her body as he pulled back from his thrust, but propelled his cock whole and hard into Cassie's asshole, and he felt her accept his cock completely. This was the advantage of fucking Cassie; as she was not human, her ass was as tight or as easy to enter as he wanted it to be.

She loved it, already having lost herself in the sex. The thrust into her ass hurt a little, but then as he alternated, one thrust into her pussy, the next into her ass, she built far higher than she could have if he was just thrusting away at one of them. His momentum increased, and increased. He was moving so fast that, for Cassie, it seemed that there were two cocks fucking her. Both her ass and her pussy tightened, as she came again.

Mark had the fortune to feel her begin to clench up, and he felt his own orgasm building. He timed it so he would thrust hard into her ass, and he erupted whole and hard into her ass.

It was coming, but it was not as good as it had been before for Mark. It was barely relief. He knew now that he would only truly come if he hurt someone, or took their soul, and not just their energy. He got up from Cassie, and walked away.



The Cult of the Lamia Ch. 12



Her mind sank, deeper and deeper into the hurtful bliss that was oblivion. He continued to pound into her, his cock harder, longer than any mortal, his movements impossibly fast. He still talked, spoke to them like before- his mind was less controllable; he couldn't choose to look into his victims head, he just saw what they wanted. Deep dark desire, brought forth into the world in mortal form. 

He was taking her viciously from behind, as he had been for the last several hours. His hand was wrapped in her long blonde hair, forcing his cock into her harder and harder, his ever thrust forced ever deeper by her body bucking back onto him. He pulled harder; the mixture of her pain and pleasure was intoxicating. He felt alive, more than he had for a long time. 

Six months had passed, since he had last seen Cassie and Michelle. He hoped they were well, but they were images, concepts of a life he had lost, that he could no longer live. Pictures of morals he could no longer stand up to. Words in a book that was no longer his own. 

She had come more times than he could count. She just kept erupting around his ever hard cock, over and over and over. His body reacted to hers, his cock even bigger than it had been when he was turned. He noticed that his form changed as he willed it, moulding to how he wanted to look. Now he found that his cock had lengthened, grown to make it just a touch bigger than this girl wanted. When she had seen it, she shivered. He pulsed, remembering.

She was so aloof, so gorgeous, standing at the bar. She was a cliché; her long flowing hair touching her slender shoulders lightly, just setting off her long black dress. She stood there, champagne glass in hand, wanting. He could feel her envy, stronger than if it was his own. She longed to be rich to have everything that riches could give her. She was poor, the dress not her own, there on loan from a friend. She was not overly smart, but she was good. Honest. She appealed to the devil in him.

He walked over to her, reading the way he looked to her from her mind. Where before he was roughly middle sized, now he towered over everyone, standing at just below seven feet. He was broader, but he carried the muscle with both ease and distain. But she marvelled at the way he moved; catlike, graceful, completely without a sound. 

She saw the cut of his suit jacket and shirt, took in the cufflinks- he never needed to buy any, being able to charm anything he needed. He stroked the warmth she felt; this man was more than rich, he was obscene. 

Mark walked over and looked straight into her eyes without saying anything. She fell into them, her own dark brown falling into the deep blackish red. His eyes had muted from the deep crimson, as though the evil within him forced them to harden, to dull. She noted the colour without truly taking it in. He was what she wanted; he saw his own body behind hers, thrusting harder and harder, in her mind. He saw her bound to her headboard, screaming out as she came. 

He hadn't needed to say anything to her. He held out his hand, and led her to a taxi. She hadn't even struggled; not that they normally did, and even then, it made it even better sometimes. He pushed her back roughly, against the seat. He felt her discomfort as aphrodisiac. 

"The nearest decent hotel, please." He requested of the driver, as he leant down, over her body, covering her from view. She was nervous, hot and cold, tense. She wasn't normally this forward, and he was sexy, but he was strange, his movements quick and almost frightening. He fed off her fear, holding his weight off her, running his mouth over hers. She forgot her fear quickly, forgot her misgivings. She wrapped her arms around his head, pulling his mouth hard on to hers. He felt her need for violence, and reciprocated in kind. He pulled the top of her dress down, scratching at her skin. She felt the pain, but his touch thrilled her. His mouth was insistent on hers, demanding. 

Her legs were either side of his body, and she longed for him in her. It had been a while, and she wanted it before she went out, but now she was beyond waiting, beyond caring that she was in the back of a taxi with a complete stranger. 

He pushed his hand between them, running his nails ungently over her inner thigh. She arched her back, almost as though she wanted him to stop, but she moaned, and bit his ear. Lifting up her dress, he tore at her panties, and placed his right palm low on her back, just above where her ass ended. She gasped; she had no idea she was that sensitive there, or at all on her ass. 

He wasn't finished either. He ran his hands firmly over her thighs, pressing his nails firmly into the skin, and she bit her lip from the pain. She was aware of the heat she could feel building between her legs, the desire for him mounting inside her body. She was begging into his ear, "Please, please fuck me now, PLEASE!!"

The taxi stopped, and the driver turned around.

"The Hilton. Now, get the FUCK outa my cab!! I'm charging you twenty more!"

Mark lifted his blood red eyes to the driver. He raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

He got out, leading the girl the whole time. He didn't speak to the driver again, and the driver didn't get out. Mark caught the driver's fear. He was petrified. Mark smiled, clenching his teeth. The girl shivered again, and he saw her looking at him, and only really seeing for the first time. 

He got a room, and pushed her back into the elevator, and as the doors closed he got down on his knees, lifting her dress back up. He pulled her panties aside, and ran his tongue long and firmly along her warm wet slit. 

She grasped his head, beyond sound. The heat building had become hard, burning. She felt every movement, every slight touch. His tongue against her clit; his lips, hard up against her skin; the stubble of his jaw scoring along the inside of her thighs. She loved it all, the overwhelming sensations flooding her body. She writhed against him, pushing and pulling away from him uncontrollably. 

He led her to their room, and threw her to the bed, ignoring her cry of pain as her head hit the headboard. That was nothing, he thought. He forced himself between her legs biting her neck just a touch too hard for it to be just pleasurable. But she loved it again, even though it hurt. He rolled her over, underneath him, and ripped her dress off her body, pulling off her panties with the other had. He freed his cock with his mind, and he saw how it looked in her mind. She quivered; it was even bigger than the dildo she had at home, the one she hadn't even used all of. His cock was terrific, fully as long as her forearm, and she felt herself tighten at the thought of it in her.

He absorbed all of this, feeling himself get rock hard. He ran his forefinger along her sex, and with her juices lubricated the head of his cock. He held back for now, gently placing it at the entrance to her body, nibbling at her shoulder as he did. She didn't know whether or not to arch her back to let him in, or to try to keep him out, but he didn't give her much room either way.

He took her whole in one thrust.

He was slow, gratingly slow, and her eyes widened as he pushed in. He wasn't only ludicusly long, but he was thicker around than anything she had ever had before as well. And this mattered far more than she had supposed it would- she felt every millimetre, centermetre, inch. He was in no hurry. 

When he was all the way inside, she sighed. He didn't move for a bit, letting her adjust to his weight, his thighs firm up against her ass. He was lying on top of her, her body pressed hard up against the bed, his hands holding her wrists hard up against the bedframe. 

He withdrew in one movement, before fucking back inside. Hard.

She screamed out in sheer feeling. Pain, bliss, she wasn't sure. Screaming was the only outlet she had, as he pounded into her, over and over again. She felt him lengthen in her again, and she tightened around him, stroking him higher and higher. No time for thought or words; she was sensation, a blazing vessel of fire and pain and sheer utter pleasure. 

She felt it begin, kind of like agony, moving from the start of his cock, as the head ran the entire length of her insides. It built as he thrust again, and again. Every time he took her, she went higher and higher. She reached a point she would have normally called orgasm, but she didn't stop. She felt the searing orgasm almost as pain, running through her body, over and over faster and faster. 

One of his hands crept under her, and he pulled her body hard back onto his, his fingers hard on her clit. She bucked back, trying to escape his probing fingertips, but gasping as she forced him deeper than he had gone before. He wrapped his other hand in her hair, pulling her back up hard against his chest as he rode her out, her body rebelling her wishes viciously, her movements making the sex infinitely better. He began to hammer her, over and over, picking up speed. She came, and came again. And again. 

She couldn't take much more of this. The first few were utterly mind blowing, but every one after almost hurt. The strength of her orgasms was frightening, as was the utter lack of control she had, but she gave herself to it, trusting him her body, letting him do as he wished. If you want me, I'm yours, she thought.

You poor naive idiot, he thought, tears of frustration streaming down his face. He felt her slip into unconsciousness, and slowed down, before slipping out of her body slowly, lying down next to her. He hated the young ones, but those were the ones he was most drawn to, the ones he wanted most. He couldn't bring himself to take her, to fill himself with her essence as he pumped his body into hers. But oh God, he wanted to. 

She stirred, and rolled over to face him, breathing heavily.

"My fucking God, that was the best sex ever!"

He smiled at her, a bit sadly. He was still hungry, and he wanted her soul, but he was in control for now.

"You're... something else. Did you... come?"

He shook his head. She looked away, and he caught her sadness. He reached out, and grabbed her chin between two of his fingers.

"You don't really want me to, do you?" his gaze was level, and she looked away first. She was still breathing heavily, while he was just looking at her. The night was warm, humid, and she noted that he wasn't even hot to touch, let alone sweating. She looked at his eyes, and saw herself reflected in the muted red. She shivered, and felt an aftershock grip her body. She really, Really, wanted him to come, but she was... She didn't really know how she felt. It wasn't exactly scared, or wary. It was like an awareness, an unconscious knowledge of what he was. Succubus, her mind said. But male. What was that called?

"Incubus. A male succubus is called an incubus." He rolled over, away from her. He struggled against himself; he was still rock hard. God, he thirsted for her life.

She rolled over, and hesitantly touched her hands to his shoulder blade, before pulling him closer. 

She looked straight at his face. Words escaped her, as again she stared straight into his eyes. She lunged forwards, her mouth hard against his, her body straddling his, her hands wrapping his member, guiding him in. She gasped as he penetrated deeply, taking his whole length. She was tighter than before, her lips swollen. He lost himself, giving himself to her body. He was ready.

He sat up, and grabbed her arms, holding them tightly behind her, making her breasts stick out proudly, hard against his chest. She rammed him into her, harder and harder. He bent his head, and bit her nipple. Hard. 

She arched her back, thrusting him in deeper. She realised that he needed her pain, needed the perfect mixture of her pain and pleasure for him to enjoy her, so she cried out into his ear, thrusting him in harder, deeper, her body writhing under his mouth. 

His other hand was hard up, between her legs, rubbing at her clit furiously. He held her wrists tightly up behind her back, the angle slightly twisting her arms, but she didn't care. The pain made it build, and build.

She felt it begin, and screamed as he pushed her head back, and bit her throat hard enough to break the skin. 

He felt her tighten around him, and felt his own orgasm begin. He could feel it now, her soul. He thrilled it, felt the orgasmic powers flash through her, and could feel her flavour already inside him. He wanted it all. 

He took her hands hard again, and pushed her ass hard down onto his cock, driving himself inside her deeper than he ever had been previously. He held her there, feeling her fullness, her vagina twitching around him. She gasped, her pupils dialated. Her face, her soul, was close now.

"Do it!" she whispered. "Take me. Come in me! I want you to!"

He wrapped his hand in her hair, pulling her face even closer. 

"I will take your life, you stupid human. Do you not understand?"

He made her come, just using his mind, and watched as her pleasure became too much.

She looked into his eyes, her mouth open, her voice a ragged whisper.

"Take me NOW."

He kissed her as he hadn't before, ramming his cock into her so hard she began to bounce on his body, her body shaking and writhing like a doll. He freed her hands, shoving his own onto her hips, forcing himself deeper and deeper, his mind on his own pleasure. She bit her lip; his cock was too big for this sort of movement, but she could feel it building, the pain grew into overwhelming heat.

He felt her soul shake loose, and he drank deeply, feeling her pulse and twitch around him. His own orgasm began, and he extended himself within her, his come searing, burning. He felt all that she was jerking free, and he knew incredible peace for the first time in months as he ended her life and took her soul. He screamed out; his own pleasure had only just begun.



The Cult of the Lamia Ch. 13



Open your eyes.

She heard the voice in her head, coming from far within. 

Open your eyes, and search for the one that must be saved. Remember who you were, and are, and could be. Remember...

She arched her back, as her soul caught fire, and she cried out as her mind ruptured open.

She woke up with a start, her chest heaving. She could remember the voice clearly, but everything else was distorted, as though it was all seen through static. She felt odd, her senses swimming. The cell was dark, but she had utterly no difficulty in seeing. It was as though the world was made out of liquid, and she could see and taste and hear all of it. And feel it, too. 

Good God, how she could feel. 

Her skin tingled. She could feel heat emanating from everything around her, and if she tried she could locate the sources; the mother superior in her office, the other nuns walking around, the choir practicing. She could hear snatches of song from them, on occasion; one of the basses was awful. 

But that was only the beginning. She remembered all of it. It had gone so very wrong, so many times. Her kin had forgotten who they were, even what they were, and who they were together. But she knew. She was the source. The origin. She was the leader of the Watchers, the one who had originally fallen, and taken responsibility for the rest. Enoch had called her Samayza, but this incarnation's name was Gabrielle.

She sat up. She could feel vibrations on the earth; a lesser immortal walked the surface. Grigorii, she thought. Like her. She got up from her bed, and walked out, her feet barely making a sound on the earth as they fell.

She still wore her night clothes, but if anyone who she passed thought it odd they did not trouble her. She looked young, barely cresting twenty years, but her eyes glowed, the blue of them so pale as to almost be white.

She couldn't tell how far she had come on foot, but she wasn't tired. She had a direction, had a job to do. He had spoken to her, had given her a mission. Save the one who must be saved. But it was more than that; she could almost see more. 

She could feel other feet on the world as well; demons, two or three other Grigori, but something else. Something both more and less. An extraordinarily gifted human, perhaps? She wasn't sure. 

Then there was the stain. Two of them. She could feel their tentacles working their rottenness on the world as she walked. There was no vibration from them; they were there, present in everything. But she couldn't do anything about them. All she could do was find the Grigori. One who must be saved.

He wandered aimlessly. Indeed, that was an eloquent metaphor for what he did, he thought wryly. Where once he had direction, he now saw no path. Where he once saw order, chaos. He was chaos. 

He followed smells, senses. He followed pulls and tugs he didn't even know he felt. He continued to walk, to move, his form ever shifting. He was tall and blonde one minute, short and dark the next. He was asian, then he was white. He was latin, he was black. He was completely unaware of his own mind; it never had any boundaries now. That was part of what the devil had done to him. He had no boundaries; it took all conscious control of his abilities from him, when control was the greatest skill he had before. He lived in other minds, experienced what they did, and revelled in their pleasure and pain. 

He came to himself suddenly, his mind withdrawing back to within his skull. All he could hear was his heartbeat, and the rain falling, first on to the roof of the church, then sliding down to the ground. No thoughts, no presence. It was good, in a way; he felt naked, pure. For the first time in a long time, he felt human. The memories of what he had done faded from his mind. 

The door of the church was open. It was an old catholic church, with heavy wooden doors framed by old stone. It was build in a medieval fashion; both to keep invaders out and filled with enough decadence to fill a peasant audience with awe. The catholic style hadn't really changed since then; just some of the doctrines.

He walked inside slowly. He ran his hands over the pews, looking through the dim light at the altar. 

Mark had been raised catholic. He looked up at the crucifix, hanging in benediction over the altar.

"God, what am I supposed to do? You gave me a second chance for what? So the devil could corrupt me, and make me thirst for blood and pain? I fight every time within myself, and every time I cannot stop. I have tried to kill myself, but it seems I cannot. Tell me what to do."

His words echoed off the walls, then the silence rang. Mark burst up the aisle, jumping at the crucifix.

"WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO!!!???" he screamed into the face of Christ, his own barely inches away.

"Stop."

Mark leapt off the wall at the sound of the soft female voice.

She was stunning. Her hair was the colour of honey, and her face that of a doll. Her lips were devilishly full, and she looked slender; it was difficult to tell given her gown that looked more like a pillowcase. 

All of the feeling and power he thought were suppressed returned, and he felt the evil well up inside of him. He felt like a predator, and his prey had just walked into the room. 

She felt odd, watching him. His eyes were just as she had imagined; a deep dull red, muted, pulsing. His face wasn't lined, in fact as far from it as possible, every surface curved. It was almost beautiful, like a woman's face, but where a beautiful woman looked soft, or at least inviting, his face was granite. His expression was sheer hunger, want, anger, desire. She felt repelled by his baseness, but at the same time she felt her cheeks flush, and her mouth opened slightly. She took a deep breath. 

"Oh, my dear. You shouldn't have come here tonight." He said, his voice smooth, as he walked slowly towards her. Fear. She was afraid of him, or was that for him? She couldn't tell anymore. The memories were not flowing as freely as before. 

He reached her, and as he stroked her face his arm seized up, and Mark's vision went black.

Mark...

Mark...

What, he thought groggily.

Mark...

He opened his eyes. She was over his head, her eyes glowing slightly. They were light blue, but were so pale, so huge between the fine lines of her cheekbones that he couldn't help it. He reached up, and caressed her face with his hand. For the first time in a long time, Mark felt tenderness well up within him. 

She smiled down at him. Gabrielle could feel his emotions, feel all of his guilt and pain. She muted them for them moment, allowing him softer, more gentle things. But she could feel her own powers getting to her; her nipples began to harden slightly, and her breath came faster. She could already feel the hardness of his body beneath his clothing, and ran her hands down his abs to the tops of his thighs. She ran the tips of her fingers over the surface, before cupping his groin.

In the dark, burning pit, Lucifer looked up from his throne, and stared. Suddenly he screamed, "NOOOOOOOO!!"

Mark had already begun to think sexually before she had even started to feel him up. Her hair was long and straight, and it had been a while since he had seen a decent blonde. And she was more than decent; her face was sheer utter perfection, but it didn't make him think of sex. She had the face of an angel, or of a saint. She was so beautiful as to be beyond even Mark's league. 

And her body was slender, so thin he could feel her ribs as he held her in his arms, but her breasts were pristine, big enough for him to cup in his palms, but he felt guilty doing so. 

She lowered her mouth to his, and kissed him softly. 

"Who are you?" Mark whispered when she released him, barely able to believe that he could feel normal again.

She leant back for a second, setting her shoulders back.

"I was She Who Fell First. The leader of the Watchers on Earth. I am your senior, Mark."

She lowered her face, and kissed him again.

"But in this body, I am Gabrielle. I was to be a nun, but He called me, and told me to find you."

He sat up, and shook himself a little. He knew, at least by taking it a little on faith, that he was a Grigorii or an incubus, and he preferred the former. But he couldn't recall anything about falling from heaven, or even if he did.

Mark felt odd; this girl was among the most attractive he had ever seen, and she was a nun (Yummy, forbidden fruit). But he felt almost no need to sate himself on her. She was beautiful, but in almost an abstract way, as though she was a piece of art and not normal or even natural.

She smiled at him; he was as easy to read as anyone she had ever met. His smile was so... memorable that her breath caught in her throat. She felt more protective of him rather than the sexual need she had before. Her eyes frosted over as she remembered.

We joined minds, all of us. As we always had, we surveyed the world and its inhabitants. We knew not what we were looking for. We tried, as we always had, to keep our eyes on everything; we never knew where the Event would happen, just that it would. But the world was large, with infinite variety, and we struggled, oft finding distractions amongst the world.

We drifted down, this time, to a small hut. He had told us to watch the human called Enoch, the descendant of Adam. We had done this since She Who Was Made First had left his ancestor, protecting his line. In this hut, Enoch dwelled, his sons and daughters nearby. He slept now, his head fully on his furs.

We could hear the sounds coming from nearby, and were confused- Enoch had forbidden procreation near his dwellings, preferring to stay away from the desires of the flesh. We floated along, following the sounds to their source.

The man was atop the woman, just outside the hut. His body roped with muscle; he was one of those who worked the fields. His mouth and hands were everywhere, gliding across her body, the calluses on his palms rubbing at her skin erotically. We could feel their tracks along her body, just as we felt his arousal, his hardness demanding release. But he was patient, far more than we would have had him been us. We wondered then, how he had control.

His hands and face then journeyed down, between her thighs. His beard was alternately rough and soft against her tender skin, and we moaned. Her pleasure intensified as his fingers slipped inside her body, as his tongue caressed her parts on the outside.  

We felt it as a burning. We were spirits of fire, so the sensation was not strange. But feeling it through the bodies of clay that the humans were made from made the feelings stronger, made them burn brighter. We cried out as she erupted in molten pleasure.

The man drew his clothing low, and rose up between her, capturing her face with his hands. She rose again as he kissed her, and then arched her back as we felt him enter her body. 

It was wonderful, the sense of being penetrated and surrounded by the warmth and wetness. He had no mind for her pleasure anymore, thrusting away mindlessly inside her. We felt his mind slip into pleasure, felt his hard rod plunging deep within her as though it was our own. We loved the feeling as he slid within us, over and over and over, now, now, NOW!

We arched our backs, and strove to remain quiet as we built up, and thickened within her. We felt his semen fill us up with molten pleasure, and we flexed around him, caressing the last of his pleasure from his body.

We separated, and became as the two hundred we were.

What are we to do? Are we to continue to watch the world, even knowing that it was harder and harder not to take a form and become as mortals are? The sons and daughters of man are too much; we see merit in them, and heaven is so very far away. We can no longer remember what Rapture looked like, or the feeling of knowing His will. 

We agreed, then, to take up the human body, and dwell as mortals on the world. We would be as Watchers forever, until He comes to this world to judge us. We agreed not to forget who we were, and to stand against She Who Was First and the Morning Star. 

I can still feel it, the sensation of withdrawing my form from the sky, and inserting myself into a lump of clay. We had moulded two hundred, one for each. I can still remember the looks on the others faces, as they became aware of their flesh only, and how their minds shrank and were confined. We could feel the air on our skin, and the warmth of each other's bodies on the air. 

More than that, we could feel each other, could see into each other's minds. 

I can still remember how we separated, each to watch over humanity as we chose. I saw the world, forever watching, wanting. But I slowly forgot. The years had their toll on me, and I forgot who I was. I lost my name, then my sense of self. I became completely human, and I died when Enoch's descendant, Noah, brought His wrath down upon the world that We had made corrupt, and purged it of all of She Who Was First's children. 

I can remember now, the last time we as a collective banded together, to do His work. The Morning Star had unleashed horrors we had never known on the world, and we had to fight him. But his voice was too seductive, and we fell again. Some of us truly died, and became less. Some sold their fire, and became the Stain. Most faded away again, and let our awareness diminish. 

But the reality of our choice had effects we had not foreseen. I died, then I felt again, in another body. A baby girl, gorgeous, innocent. I was complete. I remembered again. Only to lose it all again when I became aware of myself, aware of my body. Aware of my human parents, of my human flesh. 

I have died, over and over and over. But this time, He has chosen to remind me of what I am, and who we were. 

Mark saw it all. She could see it in his eyes, but all she could sense from him was confusion. She realised that, even though he was Grigori, she had never seen his soul before. He was Apart. 

He looked up at her, and ran his hand alongside her face. Suddenly he flipped over, his body pinning her to the ground, his eyes flashing crimson again. He looked into her eyes, and snarled.

"You were SENT to me?! Sent to do what exactly? To make good of me, to REDEEM ME!? How exactly? You have no memory of me, no experience of me doing ANYTHING!"

He kissed her fiercely, the animal within him burning. He could feel her body beneath him, feel the curve of her thigh, feel her softness. He ran his fingers along her arms, and under the small of her back. She raised her hands above her head, and ran her knee along his thighs. She bit his shoulder hard, making him draw back. 

Mark steadied for a second, retreating. She looked at him, breathing hard. She could remember what it- sex- felt like, but this body had never known the feelings running through her. She was so eager it wasn't funny. But it was strange; it felt like more than need to her, more than physical willingness. It was as though she was deliberately encouraging him.

She looked at him, hungry. 

"I am your penance, and your redemption. If you can hold yourself in, be strong, than you are redeemed. But if you cannot, sex with me is your ticket out. Your physical taint will end with this and your soul will be restored."

The animal firmly locked away, Mark felt his humanity return. 

"But what happens to you then?"

She pushed him up, and he didn't struggle as she got up and sat down at one of the pews. 

"I cease to be anything other than human. I become human. I... evolve."

She saw his eyebrows raise. 

"You think humans are more evolved than us?" 

She nodded. 

"I believe that humans are more capable of change than we are. Twenty thousand years ago, we were exactly as we are now. Humans have gone from little better than animals to moralistic, potentially philosophical creatures. If they continue their development in this fashion, than they may even surpass Him. Rapture knows how they have already developed thus far, given what the Light Bringer and his wench have done."

She shrugged.

"We have power over them now, but..."

Mark's eyes faded, the crimson dulling down to the same mute red it was when he entered. 

"So, say I went along with you. What then?"

She looked at him directly. 

"You continue, in whatever manner you can, in trying to take down Lilith and the Stain's operation on this planet. You must avoid contact with regular people; you must not sleep with anyone other than other Grigori."

Mark closed his eyes. "I did not believe in your god, and nothing I have seen had made me agree with him any more than I did when I was human."

She smiled. "Spoken like a true fallen angel."

He nodded his assent, and she took his hand as she led him away.



The Cult of the Lamia Ch. 14



She was, for all intents and appearances, a completely stunning normal human; long, glossy hair; fantastic smile. She was brunette, and her hair came down to her waist. 

She was tiny, barely even topping five foot, and her waist flared inwards, creating a truly remarkable figure.

She had curves to rival a belly dancer or royalty. 

But to be the icing on the cake, she moved with such utter grace, it put her out of every man she laid her eyes on's league. 

But tonight, she walked through the shadows of the alley, making sure that the moonlight never touched her. She had never liked the moon, even when He had first shown it to her. 

A group of boys stumbled out, and into her alley. She stayed stock still, her eyes watchful. There were three of them, and they were clearly drunk. She angled her head, staring, as if pondering, before stepping out.

"Hey, you boys lookin' for a good night?" She purred, placing one hand on a hip, leaning against a wall. They stared at her, saliva pooling in their mouths. She could taste their desire for her in the air; feel their souls heat up, in preparation.

They pounced as one, the lead growling as he tore at her shirt. Mindless with the lust only she could bring, she forced her mouth at him, biting at his lip while his friends each seized a leg. 

He was big, this boy; in all probability a footballer. Tall, his body hard and sleek, taut but not overly bulging, she clawed at the back of his jeans, as his hands fumbled drunkenly at her belt. She stole a glance at the moon, hatefully. 

"Look at what you can't have anymore," she whispered, the words not registering in the boy's lust crazed minds.

She continued to stare at the sky, even as the two held her legs apart, groping at her ass and her breasts as the main boy placed himself, running the head of his cock up and down her slit. She moaned, and stoked his flames higher. He jerked, his back straightening forcefully, his cock jamming into her fully in one deep thrust.

He looked down, at his cock, and watched as he continued to thrust away, dimly aware that he could feel something behind him, pulling his pants lower, caressing his buttocks. It was soft, he thought, as it ran up and down his crack, urging him to fuck into her harder. He turned, only to feel her hand pull his face around, back to look at her.

"No, no. Too late for that now."

Her shirt was torn open, leaving her torso bare, so he could see where the mottled green of her scales started, crawling down her body, under her skin before they emerged. He dimly registered how her coils had run around his stomach, pulling him into her even as he tried to stop- but god did it feel good.

"No, boy. Not god." She whispered, her hands cupping his head as she continued to pump him into her.

Her hips were still as wide as they were before the change, but where her legs parted before the beginnings of her tail began; long, thinning out to the width of a finger at the point. He could not have guessed how long her tail truly was in his befuddled state.

Wait, boy. Hold on; help is coming.

He felt her shove his cock in even harder. Where before, she had felt like a woman inside, now it was as though her insides had changed on the surface, her scales going several inches within her before turning into warmth. Warmth that spun and caressed and hungered. 

Do not let her finish you boy. 

But he couldn't help it. He idly looked to see how his friends were, and he felt the alcohol drain from his system, purging his mind of arousal and replacing it with ice.

They were not drained, or even vaguely eaten. These bodies were preserved perfectly, save for a mark on their foreheads, like a tattoo. 

"My mark," the snakewoman said to him, cupping his face in her hands. He turned back to her, her furious movement of his hips slowing to a halt, his cock buried as deeply as she could make it. He groaned despite himself as her warmth twisted around him, the scales within her convulsing. 

"What are you?"

"I am Delilah, and I am Jezebel. I am a Lamia, and it is your task to gift me with your semen, then your soul. Your friends were more trusting, or at least, more forthcoming."

Hold on boy, the voice in his mind whispered again. Do not come within her. Withstand.

He groaned again, as she moved her hips against him again, her coils propping them both up as his legs gave out.

"Why not come? You'll come sooner or later, you know." She said, almost conversationally, the tip of her tail again caressing his ass cheeks.

Don't come, don't come. It became a mantra in his mind. Don't come, don't come. He bit his tongue, hard enough to draw blood. He groaned through his grit teeth, pleasure swamping him.

"Fine."

He felt her slow caressing behind him vanish, before he felt it lower.

She pulled him all the way out of her, placing the head of his cock at her entrance, just as he felt her tail touch his hole.

"As you into me, so me into you." She murmured, almost like a prayer.

He screamed, as she forced her way into his ass, the tip of her tail worming its way in with enough force to push him to his root inside her. He didn't stop for breath, spasming over and over into her, his body jerking away from the invader as the tip of her tail wriggled against his prostate. He couldn't have controlled it if he wanted to; his hips moved into her off their own accord, no rhythm or intent behind them, nor desire driving them. 

He erupted out of nowhere, coming and coming and coming. He could hear her growling, could feel her jaw clamping onto his head, her mouth far wider than it should have been, her teeth much sharper. They penetrated his skull, piercing into his brain, but all through it he was coming, and she was coming, something hot and powerful issuing from the tip of her tail. He could feel the warmth building even higher, as his head caught fire, and he burnt out.

She slung his carcass from her coils- worthless meat. She was still looking for ones with the potential to turn, to spread her stain on to others.

She looked back up at the moon. 

"You know, that's what I think I like best about you now." She said, as though resuming a conversation. "The fact that not only can I get some and you can't, but you can't even bitch about it."

She licked her lips, her tongue protruding from her mouth longer than absolutely necessary as she licked her lips.

"Now that's just gross!"

Jezebel span, her tail flailing out behind her. 

There was four of them, three women, one man; a redhead, thin but tall, a brunette with a fantastic ass (it was so good, you could tell from the front how good it was), a tiny, exquisite blonde, and a man with blood red eyes.

"Gotcha," Mark said.



The Cult of the Lamia Ch. 15



Mark, before he was changed, had never had any problems with control. He wanted something, then he had it, even as a human. But, since his deal with Lucifer, that had gone out the window. He felt stronger, but his powers were unpredictable; he could try to do something with all his might, but it wouldn't happen, or he could do something, draw desire from someone, without even meaning to. Of course, Mark thought it was Lucifer that had done that; made him lose that which he had always treasured most, and his lack of control made him take more girls, despite his knowledge of the fact that they were damned and dead for taking him; it made the sex better, and made his orgasm greater. It made him feel more real.

So he was surprised when he tried to apply his powers to what Gabrielle called "The Stain"- the serpent woman masquerading as a human- not only did they work, they went too far; her hands, elbows, mouth, neck, tail; anything that had any potential to move couldn't. He could even feel up and down her body; the mottled, warm feel of her scales, as they crossed over into her skin; the depths of her body, mentally aware even if he had to physically stop himself from being bodily so.

"She is bound," Gabrielle said, her blonde hair clean over one shoulder. Mark had told the others about her, about how she was the first Grigorii on earth. Michelle hadn't cared, but Cassie had recognised her the instant she saw her; Gabrielle called her Sameel, until Cassie corrected her. They had spent much time together, and Mark couldn't help but idly feel a little jealous.

"Who wants to go first?" Michelle said, flexing her wrists. She had been impatient to get underway, but Gabrielle had been a bit wary of letting Michelle anywhere near her.

If Mark was as he was before, he would be amused at the dynamics of his little group; Michelle, as a prodigy and a loner; Cassie and Gabrielle as student and teacher, and as a miniature girls club. Michelle felt almost left out, and she was- frankly- a bit angry about it. She channelled her anger into building the prison; a completely soundproof, sealed chamber, with as many wards protecting it as Gabrielle could provide and Michelle could create.

Michelle was also on the outer because she was becoming somewhat introspective. The difference between her strengths and their potential for improvement was startling; she was constantly discovering new ways to affect nature. She had created the prison with her mind, just by using the natural currents of the world.

Mark, however, felt almost always hollow. His mission existed still, but if he let himself feel at all he would give in to the rage and lust and hate; the hunger. He stared at Jezebel with his blood red eyes unblinking.

Jezebel shivered.

Gabrielle turned to Michelle. "I would urge caution, but I think it's somewhat unnecessary. Go."

Mark felt Michelle's rage swell briefly, and contemplated in a detached way how angry she was now, since he came back. He liked it; it attracted him.

Michelle walked into the room, sealing it shut behind her as she moved. The red in her hair was vibrant, blazing out as it caught the artificial light. Her skin was if anything more flawless than before, and her frame was utterly heavenly.

But her posture was that of a predator, her every movement dangerous, fraught with her emotion. Her eyes glowed, and her lips curved into a smile as she surveyed the snakewoman.

"You know," Michelle started, almost conversationally, "I always wondered who ran the cults for you guys. The succubi and the other demons all lack the physical ties to this world to really try to make something like that work."

She walked closer, and caressed the lamia's face softly, bringing her face closer.

"It figures that you needed to be a living demon from this world. Something that predated Lucifer." She smiled, and sent a thought at Mark. (Let her go)

Mark shrugged.

Jezebel pounced, her coils taking less than a second to unwrap themselves. She was fully around Michelle in less than a minute, her coils undulating without squeezing too tightly.

"Tell me, Michelle, have you ever understood the fascination humans have for snakes?"

Jezebel brought her hands up, cupping Michelle's jaw, as she raised it to bite at the flesh of her neck. She scored at the skin with her fangs, not quite breaking the surface but making the pleasure mix with the pain. She could feel Michelle's blood heat up, as her heart began to speed up. She cradled Michelle's head with her overly long fingers, their lengths enough to cover from the crown to her fringe. She brought Michelle's mouth to her own level, and rose up into her mouth, making the touch soft, erotic.

"It's the eyes, Michelle. You look into our eyes, and you see something, something you can't explain, or understand. You can't name it, or touch it, but it's there. It repels you, but you cannot hesitate to move away, and you move closer."

Her hands ran down Michelle's shoulder blades, as her coils worked their way between her legs. The lamia took one of Michelle's hands, and brought it down, to her own slit. Michelle froze, hypnotised by the look in her eyes, the fangs behind her smile.

"We raise our heads, and you see what it is to be cold blooded, to feel nothing save heat, and warmth, and lusssssst..." Michelle moaned, as Jezebel pushed herself onto Michelle's fingers. Her tunnel was unbelievably warm, and soft, but Michelle could feel the scales caressing her fingers, pulling them deeper.

They two collapsed onto the floor, wrapped around each other. Michelle was too far gone in her lust to care, and she used her arms to bring Jezebel closer to her, to her mouth. 

Michelle was lying on her back, her body partly on the lamia, as Jezebel worked between Michelle's legs, her hands moving furiously to unwrap the girl. She could feel her heat, and she wanted it. 

But first, she wanted her to burn hotter.



For Mark outside, the intensity of what is going on inside was almost too much for him to take. He could feel his own evil stir within, and struggle. Go in there, it said. Go in there, and have them both. Revel in your power over them.

Gabrielle walked over to him, and placed her hand on his forearm lightly.



Michelle lay in a bliss of coils and heat and incredible wetness. She could smell her own arousal, but the lamia's tunnel was perfectly in front of her face, as she moved her fingers in and out of the beautiful slit.

She could feel the open air between her legs, and hissed as she felt the lamia's hands on her inner thighs. 

The tip of her tail was long and thick, and Jezebel had no hesitation.

She ran it along Michelle's slit, lubricating it, before thrusting it inside.

Michelle arched her back as the phallus moved within her. She could feel the ribs of the scales along her every surface, and she moved herself almost independent of gravity to a position that maximised her pleasure.

Jezebel panted, as she brought her face to Michelle, and kissed her hungrily. "How is it, Michelle? Is it good, better than him?"

Soon, the lamia thought. Soon.

Michelle rose ever higher, her explosion imminent. It was too much; the coils that were wrapped around her teased at her flesh, as the lamia played her body as though it was an instrument, and the phallus that entered her was almost withdrawing before slamming back into her, far faster than any man could move.

Her body tensed up impossibly, as she screamed out her pleasure to the night, as Jezebel closed in, bringing her teeth to bear on Michelle's throat.