The Cult of the Lamia

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.