I.
Luciferella sat playing chess with a woman from Knightsbridge for her eternal soul.
The game was, as could be expected in these sorts of things, going very badly for the woman. She had but a few pawns left. Luciferella had her castles, knights and, of course, all the bishops.
It was understandable that under such circumstances the woman should be in no great hurry to move her last piece. Luciferella grew impatient.
"Och! It is a feckin' pity," said she at last, "'at we did nae fix some time period within which th' player main move, ur forfeit everythin'."
"O, Luciferella," returned the woman in a heart-rending tone, "it is not the impending loss of my soul that gives me pause, but the loss of my fiance. When I think of all the grief that young master Dick will soon be faced with, that paragon of manly good looks!"
With that tears choked her. Luciferella cocked one eyebrow.
"Is yer yoong master Dickie's looks sae surpassin' as 'at?" she inquired.
"He is as thick around as my wrist," the woman began, holding up her forearm for inspection. "He is an oak tree among men, a diamond among coal tailings. He is the very morning star!"
"Nae, Ah hink that's mah line. If 'at is th' case," retorted Luciferella cheerfully. "Ye can reassure yerself. yer yoong master Booby shaa nae want fur solace. When ye ur gain Ah will assume yer shape an' feck heem fur ye."
This revelation was not exactly the comfort the woman had been hoping for. She made a desperate move. In an instant Luciferella checkmated her and she disappeared in a poof of cosmic dust that smelled strongly of library paste and Glasgow beer.
"Feck! If Ah hud knoon whit a business thes was gonnae be, Ah dornt hink Ah shoods hae gart th' offer," thought Luciferella, as, wearing Cosima-Poppy Darling's appearance, for that was the damned woman's name, she installed herself in the former's condo. She surveyed the effects to which she now had to make some sense of. They included closets full of skirts and shirts, collars, hats, pumps and flats, more bottles of Boodles British gin than a human liver could handle and all the things that an upper-class twit might have to offer, etcetera. The former owner did not seem to be a deep thinker at all, though there were three legal summons, ten bounced checks, seventy-four unpaid parking bills and the whole video collection of "The Slushy, In-Bred Girl's Guide to the Arts of Lust, Love, Sex, Seduction, Bondage and Submission."
"Whit? nae Domination?" Luciferella scoffed.
Writing down the address of her soon-to-be conquest, the daemoness sallied forth. However, nothing but her own ignorance of the geography of these particular condos forced her to take the back stairs; thus saving herself from the clutches of two loan-collection functionaries, a rogue haberdasher, a slop of fops and the rapscallion Hyde Park panty thief. After a quick jaunt in a taxi she shortly found herself at young master Dick's doorstep.
Cosima-Poppy Darling had not been exaggerating with her praise. Such good looks! such wit! such rigour of posture! Not even Merlin's 14-inch monster-cock had produced half the emotions upon her that dear Dickie had. For his part he had never had known Cosima-Poppy to be so interesting while sober, so sultry, so extremely available as she was that morning.
A scant few minutes after walking through the door, there she was, kneeling in front of him with her mouth open, taking in as much of his horse-cock as she could. Her purple eyes were looking up into his smoldering dark ones, watching his facial expressions. She wanted to see if she could detect the second just before he would explode inside her, filling the back of her throat with mortal cum. She watched his eyes soften and his mouth open into an O. She felt him grab the back of her skull, tilting it so her throat was better angled as he tried to shove as much of himself into her as possible.
Later that morning Luciferella, licking her lips, left his apartment as a love-sick fiend.
II.
Back at home Luciferella reflected on these curious turns of events. She had all but gotten him to name their wedding day, when, to her irritation, her musing were interrupted by being informed that a nun desired to talk to her.
"She wants bunsens fur a new kirk ur mission, Ah suppose," said she, knowing full well that over half the Church's missions were funded by demonic enterprises. "Och! Brin' 'er up."
But when the visitor was ushered in Luciferella found, with some anxiety, that she was no earthly mortal at all -- but an ethereal nun -- a Puritan one, too, with whom Luciferella had never been able to get on with.
"Ye cannae gab tae nuns abit blowjobs, mah mammy always said," Luciferella reflected.
This particular nun, while on earth, had been a head mistress of an all girl, all chaste school (one of only three that had, sine the concept of segregating the sexes had been invented, ever successfully been able to pull off keeping that many girls under one roof without the finger-fucking orgies) Her voice was curt, precise, peremptory.
"I am here," she said, "to notify you of my appointment as Inspector-General of Devilettes."
"Whit!" exclaimed Luciferella in alarm. "Tae th' post ay mah auld mukker, Mary 'bury me in a Y-shaped coffin', Magdalene?"
"She was deemed too old for the job," said the Puritan dryly. "She was about your age, I think? Around two thousand, give or take?"
