Satan's Sluts

Author's note: This is the third in a series (I know, weird, right?) so go and read the others first. Although it's not like they're essential. There's not that much plot here.

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I waggled my glass. It was instantly refilled with champagne.

I sat back and re-crossed my legs, making 20 pairs of eyes lock onto me.

I smiled as I took a sip while looking around the club.

Unlife was being good to me, so far. After my truly epic fuck with Satan, I had come back to Earth armed with a guaranteed entry to any venue I cared to name, my new body (with flame-red hair, I thought it was appropriate), and an unbelievable shimmering black silk fuck-me dress.

What Sheeba - aka Greed, aka Avarice - had told me when I agreed to become Lust was substantially correct. All the real work gets done by demons slaving away, while we, the personifications of sins, just have to embody. It's why we have to be human - demons can't truly understand sin, it's like asking a fish to understand drowning.

Hell needs humans to remind it what sin is, compared to the alternative.

So Greed is currently mistress to a succession of hedge fund managers, Sloth is hanging around in gaming forums, Envy is a motivational speaker ... you get the idea.

So what's a girl to do when she's just become Lust and the world is so full of sexualisation it doesn't look like there's any need for her services?

I mean, apart from give a smouldering look to a young boy who is about to be beaten up by bouncers if he doesn't stop trying to get past the rope to see me?

Well, here's the thing.

Just having sex doesn't get you a guaranteed ticket down below. Oh, no.

It upstairs, who still mostly runs the show, has this whole forgiveness thing going on, you see. It's infuriating, but true. Have casual sex a couple of times while young - you can get out of that.

Break your marriage vows - if you repent immediately, you can work your way back from that.

Contraception? It's even willing to let that slide, there are so many fucking humans now.

Even kinks aren't an automatic ticket down, any more. You really have to be perverted, or combine sins - as much sex as your can get, to the point of gluttony, say, or violent kinks.

Hell, a loving couple in an open relationship can fuck around and get let off. Single man goes to brothels? So what, if he treats the girls right. Deliberately killing someone while fucking them? Yeah, that'll do it.

But on the other hand, if getting people to damn themselves was easy, it wouldn't be much fun now, would it?

I cast my eyes around the club again. The roped-off section I was sitting in was attracting envious, eager and jealous glances. A few looks directed at me contained pure, venomous hate.

I drank it all up. It was all grist to our Satanic mills.

A party appeared in the distance, striding towards us with a get-out-of-our-way-or-you-will-be-violently-beaten-out-back attitude that was immediately effective at clearing the floor.

I took another sip and sat up straighter, arranging myself for maximum effect.

The rope was immediately unclipped.

The bodyguards arranged themselves on the outside of the rope, one inside staying close to The Boss.

The Boss sat down opposite me. He was good at what he did. So good he didn't look at my legs or my mostly-exposed tits. He didn't even look at my lips as I took a suggestive sip of my champagne. I didn't really try to entice him. He was so far damned already that I spared my efforts for other people.

"So you're the procurer Jason thought was so good."

He had a don't-fuck-with-me voice that dripped professional distrust.

"My name," I purred in a voice that carried despite the background cacophony, "is Ravenswood." It wasn't, but what's the point in total reinvention if it's not total?

He gave me a hard stare. "I can get you thrown out in a very unpleasant manner if you don't answer my question."

"You can find another procurer if you aren't prepared to conduct business in a civilised fashion," I told him, uncrossing my legs and smoothing down what there was of my dress below my hips.

It was a movement that could, equally easily, be a casual shifting of position or the prelude to standing up, and he knew it. We both knew he would look bad if I stood up and he had to call me back, while we both also knew I would not look good if he ordered me to sit down and I obeyed.

In the careful game of manoeuvring of social perceptions, the best we could achieve would be a mutual negative. I knew he wouldn't tolerate that, and he knew I wouldn't tolerate it if I was as good as he had been told I was. But if I wasn't good enough to have the confidence to threaten a move like that, I wasn't good enough. And if I was as good as he had been told, he wanted too use my services.

He sat back lazily, trying to make it look as though he were in complete control and probably fooling himself. "I have to know who I'm dealing with."

I arched an eyebrow. He still didn't, of course. He had no idea I was a genuine bitch from hell, whereas I knew exactly who he was. "You're dealing with a professional," I told him. I was tempted to add something sharp, but restrained myself.

He gave me a look carefully designed to be calculating and sceptical at the same time.

At that moment, his two sons came in, strutting through the opened rope with the sullen arrogance of small children who have been told they have to behave and listen to daddy.

I glanced at them briefly. "How about a free sample?"

Boss's eyes glittered. "Sure. My older boy, Kristof, likes leggy blondes with big tits, doesn't care how they got them. My younger boy, Stefan, likes them a bit of ethnic, know what I mean? And tiny. Nothing bigger than 100 pounds."

I gave him a steady look, avoiding with an effort giving him a witheringly contemptuous look at the use of the adjective "ethnic", then followed it with a professional smile. "Wait here," I said, taking my purse and standing up. "I may be long enough to properly vet applicants."

I'll give Big Boss his due - he wasn't looking at my legs or my arse as I walked away. He had lots of self-control. If he had tried, he could have avoided an appointment with my friends below. His sons, now

- their damnation counters were ticking up with every shift of my body inside - or outside - my dress. Their stares were getting me hot and wet as steadily as it was damning them.

I walked with the absolutely self-assured stalk of someone who is too important for anyone to try and pick up, and too important to bother with saying things like "please," "thank you," and "open the rope." The bouncer on duty had to jump to avoid making me slow down.

But as I walked I kept my gaze scanning the crowd with the calculating, assessing, seeking look of someone who may just tap you on the shoulder and offer you a chance at stardom. Or, in this circumstance, a chance at being a mobster's fuck and maybe getting a few glasses of Cristal and several lines of coke out of it. The reasons why you have sex are more important, for our purposes, than how, when, or with whom.

Leggy blondes were so common I could have closed my eyes and pointed. Big tits weren't in fashion any more, and there were a lot wearing loose things that revealed the fact there wasn't a bra underneath the fabric. But there were still plenty of implants and even a few big naturals strutting about. A tiny "ethnic", however, would be a little more interesting. There were a few, but the latinos tended to be on the heavier side, which meant I would probably find someone Italian or Greek. Even better, would be two friends, which would save me a little time.

Then I spotted them spotting me. Perfect. Blonde's hips nearly came up to "ethnic"'s tits, and was showing even more leg than I was. Her friend showed Grecian features, olive skin that looked a lot more natural than blonde's tan, and so waif-like her head was nearly smaller than blonde's tits. I gave them a quick but definite smile with a hint of come-hither in it before I changed course to the bathroom.

There were, of course, several women in the bathroom - chatting, doing make-up and even using the toilets. I put a gentle little compulsion over the entire club. Nobody except my two targets came in, and those who were in, left quickly without realising why.

I was redoing my lipstick when they came in, blinking in surprise to see the bathroom so empty.

I gave them a lazy smile, through the mirror.

They both swallowed. The shorter, Grecian one, spoke first. I thought she would. Women that small were usually more assertive and aggressive, when needed. I should know - I used to be one.

"I'm Nikoleta. My friend is Kourtney."

I could hear the 'K'. Both of them.

"You're procuring for the Boss," Nikoleta said.

I was impressed. That was smarter - or at least more perceptive - than I had expected. She had jumped past several layers of association and arrived at the right answer in one leap.

"So what does that mean to you?" I asked, examining my lips in the mirror, turning my head critically - away from them - to examine my cheeks.

"We want in," she said bluntly, while Kourtney nearly flushed with embarrassment before remembering she was supposed to be shit hot, and poked her tits out.

"Want in to what?" I asked flatly, my voice brooking no idiots.

"We want in to his crew," Nikoleta said bluntly, her voice with the hard edge of the truly committed, assertive, ambitious, social climber. "So we'll take his crew in to us if we have to."

I could tell that she almost said "if you see what I mean," then pulled herself up short. It made me almost sorry I was damning her soul to hell. But hey, it's not like a damned soul couldn't still grab an opportunity and join the staff, hey? I mean, I was proof. Besides, this was criminally easy. I didn't even have to try.

I turned around, resting one hand on the sink and the other on my hip, which I cocked out. "And I'm expected to just say yes? Take a chance on you? Just like that? I didn't get to this position by being nice and not checking resumes, girls."

Kourtney wilted slightly, but Nikoleta stared at me for a few seconds before slowly licking her lips.

That's my girl.

I leaned back against the sink, pulling the bottom of my dress up so I could lift one foot up onto the counter top.

One guess whether I'm wearing any underwear at all.

Kourtney froze briefly, but Nikoleta just went straight in. I cheated a little, and peeked at her mind. She wasn't bisexual so much as she was completely ambivalent to the sex, gender, shape or anything else of any sexual partner, so long as they could advance her own agenda.

This didn't count as corruption - there was nothing I could do to her that would make her damnation any more certain. All I was doing was offering her the opportunity to confirm a pre-booking. I almost felt sorry about Kourtney, in comparison, but then remembered that she was choosing to be Nikoleta's friend.

Nikoleta knelt in front of me, so easily I wondered how her knees didn't look calloused. She took one of my legs in each hand, and leaned in to get me nice and wet.

I didn't start moaning or murmuring encouragement. It's a power thing. Forcing someone to pleasure you shows your power. But letting them pleasure you shows their power. You're only allowed to take pleasure unless you're truly forcing them. You have to be ambivalent even if you're cumming. I was pretty sure Nikoleta would take my lack of response as a challenge, and I was right. Her tongue was a good length, and drilled inside me.

I laid a mental bet on how long it would be before she started using her fingers, and got it almost right.

All the time, my eyes were boring into Kourtney, who had frozen. She wasn't bisexual. She was a lipstick lesbian who had even progressed to tits-out snogging and, once, sucking nipples, but only because there were boys to get horny. She had only sucked nipples because she was being fucked and they put her head in place and it made them fuck her harder.

But there were no boys in here.

I stared her a challenge as Nikoleta, not managing to make me moan, pushed two fingers inside my thoroughly saliva-slicked cunt while her tongue travelled up to my very obvious clit.

Without taking my eyes off Kourtney - without even blinking - I shrugged my dress off my shoulders and pulled my arms out so I could push it past my waist.

I didn't hypnotise Kourtney, although it was entirely within my power to do so. I might have hypnotised Nikoleta if it was necessary - which it was unlikely to ever be - but hypnosis removes free will, and free will is essential to damnation. Kourtney needed to make her own decision.

She decided. The smoky look returned to her face. She stalked towards me with her feet crossing so her hips shot from side to side. She was way overdoing the smoky, but since she usually dealt with horny men, she had probably never been told she needed to tone it down.

I grabbed the back of her head, holding on a little too hard as I pulled her into an open-mouthed, tongue-in, dominating and demanding kiss.

Kourtney responded in kind, one hand going to my exposed breast and squeezing it aggressively.

Nikoleta was hard at work, and she was talented. I was allowing myself to ride the edge of cumming without making it too obvious. I was squeezing her fingers but not quivering, or gasping, or humping back, although my clit was as hard as any woman's ever had been.

Kourtney's fingers found my nipple and squeezed. I squeezed the back of her neck, making her gasp against my mouth. I half laughed at her, half purred in encouragement, then pushed her head roughly down.

She engulfed the tip of my breast with no real subtlety but plenty of enthusiasm, and her other fingers kept kneading my nipple aggressively enough to hurt, which felt extremely good to this body I had built myself. I had always loved playing with plugs, clamps and cuffs while I was still alive. As a personification of sin? There was nothing you could do to this flesh that I couldn't get off from.

I almost let them know how much I was enjoying this, but that wasn't my plan.

I let an orgasm roll through my mind without touching my body. Nikoleta was going crazy with her tongue, had added a third finger and was seriously considering her whole hand. She was going at me the way I knew she had sex with everyone - with deliberate intent to get them off, not because she was enjoying herself. I began to wonder if she would make a good recruit and I should just take her tonight.

But no. There was more damning to be done.

I casually pushed Kourtney away, and took my leg off the counter. Nikoleta, caught completely off balance, half fell backwards before managing to catch herself.

"You'll do," I said dismissively as I turned back to the mirror to rearrange my dress. "Clean up."

Nikoleta scrambled to her feet, adjusting her skirt - what there was of it - and keeping her fury at the way I had treated her out of her eyes. After all, it was what she could expect from the Boss and his crew, so she had to be able to take it.

"We're in?" Kourtney asked, a little too eagerly.

"Don't mess it up," I said, making my hard voice enough to cut diamonds. "I'm taking you behind the rope so you can be fucked, clear?"

"Oh, we're good with that," Nikoleta said, her voice absolutely level.

Even Kourtney was now looking eager. The girl may have been nervous around me, but her appetite for dick was absolutely going to guarantee her a ticket down below.

I let them bear the full weight of my special diamond stare. Nikoleta tried to return it. Kourtney just tried to bear it.

I turned my attention back to the mirror. "You'll be getting fucked like the worthless, bimbo sluts you are, by the Boss's sons."

I hardly even needed my powers to feel Nikoleta's lust for power.

Kourtney breathed "Oh, wow!"

Neither complained about being called "worthless, bimbo sluts", which just made me even less guilty about introducing them to a fast ticket to damnation.

I finished adjusting my makeup and dress, giving them plenty of time to have second thoughts, before I turned around.

"Behave yourselves," I said sharply as I walked out of the bathroom. They fell into line behind me.

They managed not to strut too arrogantly after me. Kourtney was smug and gloating but knew her place, and Nikoleta realised she couldn't hope to match my arrogant strut so she cut her losses and didn't try.

The bodyguard opened the rope for us without me needing to acknowledge his presence.

The curtains had been half drawn, so there could be sex inside the booth without making it too obvious. Of course, it had to be a little visible, or what was the point of being the Boss?

His sons glanced up sulkily and restlessly, then spotted the girls stepping obediently after me. Their lust lit up my demonic senses like searchlights.

The girls immediately put on their best look-at-me-don't-you-want-me-oh-yes-you-do poses. The Big Boss was not impressed. Self-control like that was how he had come to be the Big Boss. His sons, however, immediately countered with their best I'm-so-macho-you-can't-control-yourself-so-come-here-I-command-you poses.

The girls could tell who was looking at whom. Nikoleta slutted aggressively, going straight to Stefan and straddling his lap while his hands weren't sure whether to grope her tits or her arse. She started kissing him with regulation please-shove-your-tongue-down-my-throat open mouth while shimmying a bit.

Kourtney did that fake demure thing that pissed me off when I was human, stalking to Kristof with a "who, me?" attempt at coquettishness.

His hands grabbed her legs, pulling her between his so he could grope her properly. She started purring at him and massaging her massive tits as his hands pushed the belt she called a skirt up to expose her lace panties, pull them to one side, and start fondling her cunt lips.

Luckily, she had been looking forward to this, and was already wet.

He leered at her. "Take your top off."

Nikoleta, no surprise, had not been wearing panties. Stefan clearly prided himself on his abilities with women, and she was currently faking more arousal than she felt, with his fingers too busy inside her.

What the hell. They had made their beds. This was technically cheating, but it no longer invalidated the result. I pushed up Nikoleta's responsiveness.

Her eyes revealed her shock at her sudden reaction, but she hid it nicely and just started grinding back against his hand even harder.

"Oh yeah, like that don't you, slut?" He sneered at her.

I felt her exasperation with his tone, but he was right, she was liking that.

Kourtney felt a flash of almost panic when she was told to take her top off, but she was horny enough for that to override any remaining timidity she might have felt.

Her top barely concealed a bra - she could never have managed to get away with breasts that size without some sort of active support - and she didn't wait to be told to pull that off.

His hands went straight to her enormous globes, using them to pull her forwards until he could smash his face between them.

Nikoleta came with a small shriek, her tiny body jerking wildly on a couple of thick fingers.

"Turn around," Stefan growled. "Your arse can take me, can't it, bitch?"

Nikoleta was now horny enough to override even her lust for power. She turned around eagerly, bending forward and stretching her buttocks apart as he casually - got to maintain the illusion of authority - undid his pants.

Kourtney was rubbing her breasts against Kristof's head.

He pushed her backwards, spread his legs, and pushed his hips forward on the couch.

He chuckled as she eagerly dropped to her knees to unzip his pants.