Note: All characters in the following story are 18 years of age or older. Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is purely coincidental.
*
Jessi DeVille jiggled onto the floor of the Kit Kat Klub, her large, unfettered tits swaying proudly with every step of her 6inch white stilettos. The flowing silk skirt she wore was little more than a dramatic loincloth that rode high on her wide hips and exposed creamy expanses of thigh as it swished back and forth over her round behind.
The fabric barely concealed her hairless, pierced pussy and only emphasized the sexy tattoos cradling her flat tummy and dipping between her juicy asscheeks.
Aside from shoes and skirt, Jessi, better known as Angelique to the regulars who recognized the angel wings tattooed on her shoulder blades, remained gloriously nude. The golden rings on her DDs caught the attention of anyone she passed by.
While the heavy, whorish makeup, alternating layers of immaculately styled black/blonde hair, and long white-painted nails advertised what an unabashed slut the curvy teen was, the high-arching pencilled eyebrows and Karma Sutra positions stenciled on her neck and spine combined with the triple-pierced tongue resting behind her dick-sucking lips promised she lived up to her reputation.
As always, her afternoon routine had been a raging crowd pleaser, earning her an outlandish sum for a rotten shift in such a remote town. Cinnsbury wasn't the buzzing little town its neighbor Blanton was. Little more than a pit stop along the highway a decade ago, it'd grown little since the interstate drew traffic into more savory locales.
However, being outside the County Limits and restrictions that made Blanton such a wonderful place to raise a family had its benefits. Alcohol, firearms, and even a certain amount of sexual delight could be purchased mere miles from the squeaky clean township.
This made Cinnsbury a popular stop for both lonely travelers and bored locals. The Blanton City Council had made a big fuss over absorbing tiny Cinnsbury into their jurisdiction, if only to cleanse the area of all impure influences.
Jessi smiled to herself at how easily the Council had gone down when Ray Baroni, owner of the Kit Kat and the adjoining Cathouse Bar & Grill, had threatened to simply move his establishment another mile down the road and out of their control.
She loved her boss's style.
Finding most of the club patrons attended to by her luscious fellow strippers, Jessi slinked towards the manager's office, winking at the bouncers and bartender as she crossed the room.
That one with the Prince Albert could really satisfy. What was his name...? Mike? Bobby? She'd have to find out next time she fucked him. She noticed her protégé Candy had taken the main stage and smiled proudly at the sight of the buxom woman tit-fucking the steel pole with her huge tattooed boobs. Jessi nodded in approval and knocked at the office door in her merry signature rhythm.
"Come in." A deep voice growled, barely audible above the pounding club music, then followed with a few hoarse grunts that were echoed by husky female yips. The electric door lock buzzed open, and Jessi slipped inside.
The sight that greeted the barely legal slut would have terrified any normal human.
There, on his marble desk, a giant red devil humped away at a snarling demoness. His massive clawed hands failed to cover the enormous tits that bounced hard on her chest, his talons digging into her black aureolae.
Their forked black tongues wrestled in midair. The demoness grabbed her lover's straining ass with her clawed hands and feet, hilting him into the clutching depths of her cunt.
The demon roared, tossing back his onyx hair, and bore large, sharp canines. The satanic whore beneath him curled a fat black lip, worshipping him with her red reptilian eyes. She pumped her shapely hips back at him, the phallic tail that extended from her ass wrapping around his muscular thigh adoringly.
The demon brought the cock-tip of his own tail up to her preternaturally beautiful face. It rubbed against her pointed ear, then caressed her crimson flesh until she sucked it between her whorish lips, scraping the sides with dainty fangs.
Jessi giggled at the rutting couple impishly. "Still going, Sindy?"
The demoness purred around her mouthful of cock, eyeing her fellow stripper's ripe form hungrily. Jessi winked at her, unwrapping her skirt and kicking off her slutty shoes.
Pulling the fabric aside, the numerous gold rings in her pussy and the pentagram and "SLUT" tattoos she bore were revealed. Dropping her glamour as the silk pooled around her feet, Jessi returned the demons' red-eyed gazes.
She favored them with a fanged smile, straddling Sindy's horned head. The rutting demoness grabbed the teenager's plump ass with her claws, massaging the reddening skin as Jessi pulled the humping demon into a deep kiss by his long black horns. Her monstrous lover responded by ramming his tail up her tight ass.
The young stripper's form swelled to impossible hourglass proportions, massive red tits and globular ass offsetting her tiny waist and svelte build. Her own tail extended from the rune tattooed on her lower back, snaking past the pawprint tattoos on Sindy's chest and into her immense cleavage.
The demoness below plunged her 8inch long tongue deep into Jessi's bald slit, squeezing her bobbling tits around the growing tail with her elbows. The demonic teen growled her pleasure, grinding her well-trained pussy onto Sindy's gnashing fangs as the demon fucked deep into her throat with his thick black tongue.
He finally bellowed lustfully, his 18inch rod completely swallowed by Sindy's grasping cunt. The demon shot gallons of pearly black cum into his evil whore, the ebony cream coating the heart tattoo that decorated the devilish stripper's pussy lips and double-pierced clit.
Sindy moaned ecstatically into Jessi's hole, her forked tongue vibrating through the young demoness's cunt and lower abdomen. The fat tail pumped into Jessi, overflowing her little anus and showering the hungry demoness below with cum.
The demon popped loose of his sluts, letting the hellish teenager lave his massive genitalia with her long tongue. He then sat back and watched the otherworldly strippers eat his seed out of each others' holes, mewling as they groped their voluptuous crimson bodies and shamelessly ground their netherholes onto questing tongues.
***
Oliver Conniff had made mistakes in his life. He'd never denied that. His refusal to listen to his father and pursue surgery rather than law. The many debts he'd accrued in his lifetime. The death of his first wife when he was behind the wheel after a few drinks. Losing touch with his daughter after her grandmother had taken custody.
But he'd never considered Linda a mistake. Sure, many had called her a Trophy Wife, purchased by a powerful man desperate to reaffirm his virility. Their matrimony hadn't been ideal with all the time he'd spent travelling and tending to his various businesses, but somehow they always made it work.
They'd lived, loved, and started to grow old together. Then she'd learned of his philandering on a trip to Miami. The girls were nothing new, but Linda had always assumed it was just for show.
That last trip nearly cost him his marriage. Linda had stopped taking his calls, and he spent the next month in New York, away from the awkwardness of feigning normalcy in Blanton.
The town hadn't been happy with one of their councilmen taking an extended leave of absence, but people knew better than to pry into the personal life of the area's prime land developer. Still, Linda didn't respond to any of his attempts to break his silence, and he'd feared a divorce was inevitable.
When he'd returned home, he wasn't entirely surprised to find the home in a state of disrepair, but Linda's complete absence shocked him. Her clothes remained in the closets, her car sat in the garage, her bank account hadn't been touched in months.
The mystery of it all disturbed him, but hearing himself tell it to the police only made the pieces form together into the picture of a woman who so thoroughly wanted to break away from her old life, she'd left with nothing to remind herself of him.
Then the first note came.
Someone wanted money. Lots of it. In return, they promised no harm would come to his wife. Inside the envelope was Linda's wedding ring.
A month passed. Oliver put the story together from every source he could find. His wife had been crushed by his betrayal, shutting herself away in their luxurious home and turning away all visitors. Then, only weeks later, she'd gone out one night and never come back. Nobody saw the vehicle she'd left in, but none of the taxis or rentals in town had any record of being hired by her.
Oliver stewed as the notes kept coming, each time delivering to him a trinket or reminder that Linda was there. An anecdote about the first time they'd met in Los Angeles. The name of their first dog. How she'd loved the way he made her breakfast in bed every Mother's Day, even though they'd never had children. The kind of aftershave he'd used before she'd turned him to a more contemporary brand.
Linda had always made him feel young...
When a final note came two months after Linda's disapperance, Oliver was literally struck dumb with joy, relief, hope, and rage. The kidnappers no longer wanted to hold out. They felt the risk was getting too great and wanted to return his loving wife to him.
All he had to do was meet with them one time, and an exchange would be made. One last payment... maybe a bit extra... and Linda would finally come home.
His instructions were to meet them in Cinnsbury. At the Kit Kat Klub...
***
Ray Baroni puffed away at his cigar in the secluded VIP balcony of the club. It wasn't much more than a restaurant bench behind dark 2-way mirror, but it allowed him some distance from the stinking dregs of society without letting his place or his pussies out of sight.
Speaking of the devils, two of them were sashaying out of the manager's office right at that moment. Sindy, one of his newest whores, combed her purple and white dye job with her dragon lady nails. The slut had picked up a lot of tricks and totally committed herself to the trade when she got that big heart tattooed on her bald cunt. Not that the double-pierced clit and little paw prints on her boobs weren't anything to write home about, but no respectable girl would let a man stab into her snatch with an ink gun for an hour. No, Sindy was a true nymphomaniac.
She strutted away, loose sequin top barely covering her big tits. Her pal, Ray's favorite, headed backstage. Angelique was the ultimate whore, in Ray's eyes. Sure, she was practically jailbait and definitely had plans beyond a rathole like the Kit Kat, but that was the nature of the game.
He still couldn't get over how she'd cleaned the drugs out of his stable of strippers. How they'd all changed from saggy hoes to high class bitches in the months since Angelique had started working there. He liked it. He just couldn't believe his luck.
Take Candy on the main stage, for example. When that cunt had first waltzed into the club, she looked like she hadn't touched a dick in her life. Married, middle-aged, a real alpha-bitch over in Blanton. Angelique had turned her right around.
