Service with a Smile

{Okay, fine, you can't talk. Just ignore me then. Because that worked out so well yesterday.}

"We still need two cheeseburgers for drive-through!" I called as I put the burger in the paper bag. My joints were still creaking after last night, and my co-workers had already asked about the bruises on my wrists.

{Pit take you, Eric, have it your way. I'll ask a question, and you just nod for 'yes' and shake your head for 'no'. I'll feel it through the amulet, okay? Easy peezy, titty squeezy.}

My co-worker Samantha had already gotten the Coke ready, so I put the tray on the counter. "Number 64?" I called.

{Okay, with regards to what we're doing on the weekend... how do you feel about anal sex?}

The old woman gave me a strange look as she picked up her Big Mac. I reassembled a normal facial expression and tended to the cash register.

{You're interested? Fantastic! But anal's practically passé nowadays, right? I don't want you to get

bored

on our first Saturday night together.}

I hit the wrong button and kept the next customer waiting an extra couple of seconds while I re-entered his order.

{I'll just spitball here, and you go yay or nay. Cheerleaders. Schoolgirls. Schoolteachers. Fisting.}

I got through the next order but bumped into Samantha on the way to the drinks machine. She looked at me oddly. Was it because I was being a klutz this shift, or because she'd felt exactly what I was smuggling underneath my McApron?

{You're not giving me much to work with here, Eric. Exhibitionism is always fun - we've done a little of that already. I know we've talked about dominance and submission, but BDSM is a whole genre of its own, so: ball gags. Spanking. Blindfolds. Breath play -- ooh, you did seem to like that this morning...}

The next time I had to cross past Samantha, it almost turned into one of those awkward will-they-won't-they bluffing dances. Normally I choose a direction and stick with it, come hell or high traffic, but I

really

didn't want to bump her hip with my crotch again. Especially not with Rosie still beaming her thoughts right into my loins. I knew I shouldn't have taken the pentacle amulet to work.

{You're no fun,} my succubus sent indignantly. {You've got to have some nasty kinks, Eric, some verboten fantasies, and I'm going to fulfil them with or without your permission.}

For a precious few moments, there were no customers waiting in line and no burgers ready in the chute. I raised a casual hand to my face and mouthed words quietly to her. 'This is absolutely not the time, Rosie.'

{When is the time? Fire and brimstone, master, I've been up here four days and we barely know each other. You hide me from your family, you don't take me anywhere interesting, it's just me yapping away into your depressingly non-filthy mind...}

'Which is very distracting.' I took my hand away from my mouth. "Michael."

My manager raised his eyebrows at me, then jerked his head towards the completed Quarter Pounder in the chute. I dutifully juggled burger, fries and liquid sugar onto a tray and served it.

{Maybe you shouldn't be leaving me at home so often, then? If I can be Rosie Murdoch sometimes, why can't I be her all the time? I could explore the 21st century, and you wouldn't have to listen to me talk about hand jobs, blow jobs, tit jobs, rim jobs - hey, that's one we haven't done. Before you fuck me in the ass, and I do SO want you to fuck me in the ass, maybe I could lick yours?}

I was gazing off into the middle distance when the store's automatic doors slid open, letting a gang of tradies pour in from the parking lot. In a matter of moments the line was six deep in front of my cash register.

{We'll do that before exploring any other fetishes, then. Damnation, now I

really

want you to fuck my ass; it's hard to think about anything else.} She blew me a telepathic kiss. {Try and be less distracting, master.}

I took the first order with my teeth gritted.

***

Eight hours trickled by like eighteen. I switched from front counter to food prep at the first opportunity; at least standing in front of the fryer nobody could see the mountainous contour lines on my apron. That was the downside of a magically-boosted libido, especially when Rosie was whispering into my brain - although if I was being honest with myself, my brain was pretty filthy even without her prompting.

This morning hadn't helped.

After our almost-torturous lovemaking last night, she'd finally let me fall (and remain) unconscious around 2am. When I woke up just before my alarm, my whole body hurt. Every limb ached, scratch marks and bruises stung all over my body, and my supposedly indefatigable dick was actually sore. Being completely honest, I was the furthest from horny I'd been since she'd Shaped my libido, so I was a little nervous when I opened my eyes to see Rosie kneeling over my face.

"Master," Rosie said severely, "I'm afraid we have a problem." Something dripped onto my neck. "I have spent the last six hours lying next to you, touching your naked skin, holding myself back from waking you up and continuing the greatest sex either of us have ever had. I've had all

sorts

of urges..." She was in demonic form, voluptuous and muscular and wickedly horned, and the intensity in her eyes was starting to scare me. I couldn't even see the lower part of her face over the mountains of her breasts. "You're about to leave me alone for another day, and whatever shall I do? Just sweat and drip and burn with unsatisfied lust?"

That explained the small puddle forming on my throat, just under where she crouched. "Ah," I said, my throat crackling. "I don't suppose 'sorry' will cut it?"

I felt her tail coil about my leg like a hungry python. "I have a better idea, my darling master," she said, leaning forward over her breasts so I could see the wicked grin on her lips. "Your breakfast this morning will be my pussy. If you can make me cum in the... two minutes and thirty seconds left before your alarm goes off, I

might

consider letting you go to work rather than holding you down and raping you 'til lunchtime."

"Um." Her smile, I noted, was showing fangs. After last night, my aching body couldn't take another marathon sex session, but she was pinning my wrists above my head and there was nowhere to flee. "...I guess I'll do my best, then."

"Take a deep breath."

"Wait, I still don't really know how -- "

I didn't get a chance to finish as Rosie swung her hips forward and my world went moist. I vaguely remembered from some Complete Idiot's Guide to Foreplay that cunnilingus was meant to involve a lot of teasing and taunting, kissing and licking around the pussy itself, playing with the labia, tantalizing the clit with occasional sucks. There mustn't be many Complete Idiots in hell, because Rosie wasn't here for foreplay.

She laughed and pushed her soaking pussy down against my face. Her muscular ass and thighs were just soft enough to smother me completely. I tried desperately to suck in air through my nose but there was nothing but her scent, all pheromones and fire. Her pungent pussy juices were all over my lips and nose, tingling my skin like acid even as my mouth started to salivate and my lungs begged for air. She was the world, and I was getting crushed like Atlas.

Only when I was panicking and truly, futilely straining against her did she rolled her hips back. I took gasping breaths, and gasped harder as her juice spattered into my mouth.

Rosie's prehensile tail unwound from my leg with shivering speed and wrapped around my neck like a noose. "If you want to avoid developing an asphyxiation fetish then I'd better feel your tongue on my pussy," Rosie hissed. Her eyes were wild, her teeth bared. Holy shit.

"I'll try," I panted, "but -- "

Her pussy cut me off again. Her tail flexed against my throat, gentle but insistent.

I had no idea what to do.

I stuck my tongue up, feeling it push against and then between the slick lips of her pussy. That was another shock right there, the full impact of her taste hitting me. The joke is that pussy tastes like fish, but that's human pussy we're talking about, and I think Hell is more fire than water. Rosie tasted like... damn it, Rosie tasted like nothing in the world but Rosie. Her juices made me think of exotic spices, peaches in summer, and the heat at the edge of a candle's flame. It kicked more than a mule on tequila, too; my whole throat tingled, my lips went numb and every sensation from my tongue was magnified a dozen times over.

Damn it, she tasted fucking amazing.

I moaned in shock and pleasure, and the vibrations must have done something to her pussy because she moaned above me too. As always, that was a hell of an aphrodisiac. I started wiggling my tongue around in a vague imitation of half-remembered pornos. Rosie helped. Not content to sit still, she was grinding against my face with wanton desire.

I wiggled my tongue some more, trying to find where the clit was supposed to be. Trace the alphabet with your tongue, right? It seemed to be working, judging from how Rosie trembled above me.

I started wriggling again. Before the need for oxygen became too great she leaned back, exposing my nose to fresh (if incredibly sex-scented) air.

"No!" she said, her tail tightening momentarily around my throat. "Don't take your

fucking

tongue out, master." I tried to keep it stuck out and licked as I panted, feeling almost as silly as I did horny. Then her belly rolled forward toward me and I was again being waterboarded by her infernally-hot pussy.

She'd promised to give me lessons in cunnilingus at some point, but this wasn't that. This wasn't anything but sheer desire, a lust that wasn't normal or even human. I'd occasionally wondered just how much of Rosie's sex drive was involuntary, and how much was a rational, conscious strategy to seduce me. If last night hadn't been enough of a hint, this was my answer.

I also knew my efforts were having some effect. She rubbed her whole groin against my jaw and nose while grunting orders in half-delirious pleasure.

"Tongue, in and out!" I complied for as long as that breath lasted. By the end my whole skull, from teeth to tonsils, was tingling from her juices.

"Now suck my clit!" That was after another oxygen break, a long one, and I think her juices were getting into my bloodstream because I was too horny to think. My hips bucked on their own, my sore cock straining desperately against the air. Only her demonic strength and vice-like thighs held me in place.

"Thirty seconds!" she told me as I gasped up at her. Then she was back on me again and I was going at it, licking and sucking mindlessly as lust consumed us both. She let go of my hands to stifle her moaning with a fist; I reached up and took hold of her swinging breasts like they were the breath I desperately needed.

She came as the alarm sounded. It was Poison's 'Fallen Angel' this time, telling me to "win big" as my demon's juices squirted into my mouth, my nose, even my eyes. Her fucking tits came too, pearls of glistening demon-milk dribbling from diamond-hard nipples. She didn't even have to touch me -- her moans, her tits, her quivering chemical cascade brought me over the edge. Even after last night's loads, even untouched by either of us, my dick spurted furiously into the air. My vision would have gone gray even if her tail hadn't been tight around my throat.

She fell back off me in shivering pleasure before I lost consciousness completely. It only took us another thirty seconds of panting recuperation before I found the alarm clock and switched it off. "Just a step from the edge of a fall -- " Bret Michaels sang.

"I think we're a few steps past that," Rosie sighed, leaning back on her hands.

"I think we fell off the cliff and hit the bottom. Except, you know, without the splatter."

"Mm." She gave a contented sigh and wiped some drool from her red-flushed cheek. "I don't know. You look pretty splattered."

Still breathing hard, I started choking back a laugh. "Holy shit, Rosie, you drowned me. I didn't realize how fucking wet you get until it's happening right in my face."

"How wet I get from fucking

you

, master. That wasn't bad at all for your first time eating pussy."

"And the fact that you're a sinfully-overstimulated sex demon had nothing to do with it?"

"Maybe," she allowed. "But there's a way to test that. Encore!"

"Wait," I said. "The alarm went off. I need to get ready for work."

"Well, technically I didn't come until the alarm, and by the literal phrasing of the bet..."

"You came with the alarm!" I said. "That counts as my win, surely."

"Hmm. That

was

a pretty good orgasm." Rosie conceded, wriggling back a little so that she was sitting atop my chest. That sight was enough to make my still-sore, just-spent cock perk up again. "I suggest a compromise."

"A good compromise leaves everyone unhappy."

"I promise you'll be very, very happy," she said. "We both try and make each other come again, no holding back, no holds barred. Once we've each come again, I'll let you get ready for work."

"How are you going to help me with that? Fill my uniform pockets with condoms?"

"Why would I do that? Condoms are way less fun than bareback," she said with a smile. Then she slid her pussy back towards my face. "Now, come on, get back in there. I'll try and turn down the waterworks this time."

"You know I really don't know what I'm doing, right?"

"Here," she said, reaching over and grabbing the pentacle amulet out of my bedside table. With it around my soaked neck, she sent: {I'll give you pointers. Or are you bored with my sloppy, needy pussy already?} It was hard to argue with talk like that. {Yesss. That's right, Eric, play with the lips. Now lick it, lick my whole cunt. It's okay to call it a cunt, by the way. Also slot, slit, even quim if you're feeling British...}

Rosie didn't grind against my face this time, so I could breathe her maddening musk through my nose while I worked. She shifted from kneeling above me to a kind of crossed-legged position, with my head resting on her feet and tilted forward against her pussy. The reason for the position change, and the need for the amulet to communicate, quickly became obvious.

Shaking out her neck and wings in a sinuous stretch, Rosie leaned back and began to bend. I saw her abs ripple as she tilted back over my body. Her scarlet hair brushed over my stomach and groin, and I briefly worried about her horns, but she clearly had no intention of

doing

the impaling. Stretched backward in an impressive arch, she kept her pussy against my mouth as her lips found my hardening cock.

{You see, this is why all women should do yoga.}

She blew me in a kind of inverted 69, twisted around to suck me down greedily even as I lapped at her folds. Maybe she was holding back on the squirting this time, but neither of us were in danger of running out of fluids. A couple of times, like when she deep-throated me until her horns pressed against my belly, I stopped licking her out. She corrected me swiftly.

And too swiftly, it seemed, we both approached the point of no return. Rosie actually reached that point twice, despite the 'orgasm each' agreement. A magnanimous master, I decided to allow it.

She took me deep in her throat and started humming as I came, the vibrations travelling through my well-used cock and coaxing every last drop of cum out of my balls. When I stopped licking and just gurgled helplessly she let me fall back.

It took at least another five minutes before I was in any shape to do anything. Looking at my cum-slicked belly and utterly waterlogged head and shoulders in the mirror, I couldn't help but giggle. I mean, what was I going to do, whine? This was way better than work, or Nirvana. Lying there embracing her afterwards, I stroked her hair while she drew patterns in the cum spilt across my belly. Our whole bodies felt aligned in some cosmic way.

"You are amazing, Rosie," I said, "but you have made me quite late. So, will the lion behave itself today?"

"It'll try. And if they call you tardy," she said with a wicked smile, "offer to lick them out -- you seem pretty speedy when it comes to that."

I tickled the crook of her neck a little, making her squirm against me. "My boss is a 200-pound Polynesian man."

"Pit take it. Offer to lick out any dissatisfied customers, then. Just bring your amulet -- I'll get bored cooped up here without you, and you wouldn't want that, would you?"

***

The one work-friendly part of my morning was unexpected. It turns out that a succubus' pussy juices are a hell of an energy drink, better than Red Bull, except I got a boner instead of wings. I was bouncing off the McDonald's walls for a couple of hours, and my increased energy almost made up for my aches, pains, and Rosie's distraction. Between 'conversing' with my succubus, dodging Michael's attention, and actually serving customers, I had to worry about the other girls on shift. 19-year-old men generally don't have an off-switch for their libido even on the best of days. Rosie had cranked that up to an unknown extent, and I'd spent the morning gulping down the aphrodisiacal equivalent of rocket fuel.

The new girl, Cherish, wasn't too much of a problem. She wasn't my type, which was to say chubby and dumb and most definitely underage. Samantha, though -- she was cute as a button, and I wanted to press it as hard as I could. Five foot nothing, warm brown eyes and a cherubic face, with a toothy smile that never felt forced no matter how many customers she had to greet. Only just 18, she still had a year of high school left. A few times during the shift I caught her looking at me. She always broke eye contact first, but I was quick to turn away too.

In the quiet period after lunch, I was restocking the freezer and could talk to Rosie without too much fear of being diagnosed with schizophrenia.

{So, what are we doing tonight?}

"Tonight? Fuck, I don't know. Don't you have some elaborate sex-marathon in store for me?"

{It's more fun if you don't know quite when it's coming. I want to do something interesting. I want to see the world!}

"You want to have sex in some embarrassingly public place."

{I can have my cake and eat it too, right?}

I sighed. "How about the movies, just to start with? It's a pretty common 'date' kind of activity, it gives us something vaguely resembling a tiny bit of privacy, and it'd be good practice for actual social exposure.

{Like going out to a bar Saturday night?}

I rubbed my forehead, then groaned at my stupidity as I spread tomato juice over it. Helpful hint: don't handle tomato slices and then put your hands near your eyes. "Damn it, woman, you're going to kill me. You're a slave driver."

"Yeah, yeah, don't shoot the messenger," Samantha said from the freezer door. I jumped hard enough to almost slip over on the frosty floor; she waited until she was sure I wasn't going to fall before giggling. "Actually I bring good news: Michael wants to train some new guy, so he's sending you home an hour early. You're done in ten."

"Seriously?"

"I know, it's barbaric. I'm a delicate woman, I need to be coddled, I should be given the early finish."

{You'd coddle her,} Rosie sent. {I'd coddle her. I wonder what her nipples look like; they've got to be perking up in this cold.}

"You're not the one with tomato juice on their forehead, I think you're doing okay," I said.

"Here," Samantha said, grabbing a paper towel from the sink behind her. "Hold still, you klutz."

She had to reach up quite a bit to get my forehead. Her shirt stretched as her arm raised, and even if I hadn't been appraising her bust, Rosie was calling attention to it anyway. It was a significant effort of will not to look down and check my waistline for decorum.