Cozbi: Rise of the She-Demon

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Cozbi: Rise Of The She-Demon

"The zealots of the church and state

Shall e'er my mortal foe be;

But let me have bold Zimri's fate,

Within the arms of Cozbi!"

- Excerpt from "I Murder Hate," by Robert Burns.

1618 B.C.E.

"My Lord, are you sure we should be here?"

I trembled nervously as my new husband, Zimri, led me through the camp to his personal tent. I felt the eyes of the High Priests, along with others of the gathered tribe, move over my body as Zimri led me past. Their scowls were not at all approving.

"Of course, my darling," Zimri assured me. "You are my wife now, I can bring you anywhere I please."

"But, your people did not approve," I reminded him. "We were married in the eyes of my people, under our Gods, yes. But your High Priests refused us that same right."

"It matters not," Zimri dismissed me. "We have sworn oaths, and I have paid the purchase price to your father. You belong to me now."

Pulling me inside his tent, he closed the flap behind him.

"Remove your clothes." His instruction was firm, insistent.

I did as I was told, quickly shedding my long, flowing bridal robes. In moments, I stood revealed before my new husband, my olive skin aglow with sweat from the desert heat.

Zimri disrobed as well. I gasped at the sight of his manhood. It wasn't my first encounter with a circumcised male. Unlike the Hebrew God that Zimri worshiped, my Gods had no restrictions on sex, purity or chastity.

So I was quite familiar with the male sex organ. Up until this moment though, I had never seen one quite so... unimpressive.

Still, I understood my wifely duty, and dropped to my knees before him, eager to perform it.

Zimri, however, had not the patience. Pushing me to the carpeted floor of the tent, he moved above me, pinning me down with his superior strength.

His engorged member prodded eagerly at the entrance to my own tent. Without preamble or warning of any kind, Zimri forced himself inside me.

I found myself grateful he was not nearly as well endowed as the men I had been with before, since Zimri had given me no time to build my desire enough to ease his passage.

Still, as he thrust away eagerly, I felt my pleasure grow, soon finding a rhythm with him, my hips swaying as he pumped.

A rhythm that ended all too quickly when I felt his seed erupt within me.

Zimri collapsed over me, panting and sweating profusely. "Ah, my darling Cozbi, you truly are an exotic delight! I am looking forward to..."

His words were cut off by the sounds of an angry mob gathered outside our tent. Zimri turned his head just in time to see the frenzied, wild eyed priest burst in, a long, sharp spear in hand.

Trapped beneath my husband, I could only watch in horror as the invader lifted the spear high, his eyes glazed over with madness and rage.

Zimri cried out in fear, then agony.

I screamed as well. A sharp burst of pain exploded in my abdomen.

Then my world went black.

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Somewhere Outside Time And Space

"Wake up. Wake up, my child."

I lifted my head slowly. My eyes fluttered open.

The room was bigger than anything I had ever seen before, far grander than even my father's royal court, or the many temples my people had erected in honor of the Gods.

The granite floor was hard, smooth, cool to the touch. The stone walls of the long, rectangular hall seemed to reach to the heavens, as did the parallel rows of columns that ran the length of the cavernous space.

At the far end was a staircase, flanked by two massive stone pillars, gargoyle carvings perched atop each, along with a pair of brightly burning torches.

The staircase led to a dais on which sat a throne, wreathed in flames. A large, multicolored orb of glass, or perhaps some type of highly polished stone, topped the backrest, shimmering with an unearthly glow.

Upon the throne sat a figure, obscured in mist and shadow.

"Stand, child," the figure commanded.

I scrambled to my feet, naked, afraid, clutching absently at my belly.

"Do not be frightened, child." The voice was softer now, soothing. "Come closer."

I tentatively approached the foot of the stairs, eyes cast downwards, uneager to meet the gaze of the mysterious figure.

"Stop. Right there. Now, stand straight, child. Let me look at you."

Finding my strength, I lifted my head, my arms dropping to my sides, no longer attempting to cover myself.

Puffing out my chest, I stood proud and unashamed before him. Although his face was still obscured in shadow, I met his fiery eyes with my own defiant glare.

"I am no CHILD! I am Princess Cozbi, daughter of Zur, ruler of Midian, and wife of Zimri, son of Salu of the tribe of Simeon of the Israelites!"

"Good," his deep voice chuckled. "Oh very, very good. You have spirit, I like that! Oh yes, you'll do nicely."

"What do you mean?" I spat. "Where is my husband? I demand you bring me to him! I..."

Booming laughter cut me off. "Oh, my dear Cozbi! You are in no position to demand anything! Do you even know where you are? Stop and think for a moment. What is the last thing you remember?"

I thought deeply, struggling to recall. The memory came back in a flash; the angry cry of the priest, the blur of the spear, the wail of agony. I again clenched at the phantom pain in my abdomen.

"I... am I...?"

"Dead? Yes. I'm so sorry."

"And this is...?"

"The Underworld, yes."

"Are you Ba'al?"

Again the good-natured laugh. "No. But he is an associate of mine."

The figure stood and, with graceful ease, descended the stairs. The mist parted as he approached, revealing himself clearly; tall, lean, his body adorned in elegant, kingly robes of red and purple, edged with gold trim along the sleeves and hem.

Long black hair framed the angular features of his chiseled marble face. Slitted amber eyes twinkled with wicked merriment.

His thin lips offered a warm, almost loving smile.

I trembled at his terrifying beauty.

"Who are you?" I asked in wonder.

"I go by many names. One you might be familiar with is Asmodeus."

I nodded. "Ah. Yes, I have heard of you. You're... you're more... handsome, than I expected."

Again his smile inflamed my desire. "Do you know why you're here, my dear?"

I shook my head. His gaze as his eyes wandered over my body made my nethers tingle.

"You are here because your family sold you like a piece of property to a man from a tribe of wandering nomads who believe it is perfectly acceptable to slaughter any heathen who does not worship their vengeful God."

"But," I objected, "Zimri selected me, knowing I was not of his tribe, his faith. I had no choice in the matter; it was the will of my family that I be wed to him, to form a union between our people."

Asmodeus sighed in sympathy. "And yet his people slaughtered you as casually as one of their sacrificial lambs. Zimri broke the rules about choosing a wife from among the pagans. But they blamed you for seducing him, and so you also paid the price. Do you think that fair?"

I shook with brimming anger. "No."

"Good." Asmodeus grinned wider, revealing his perfect white teeth. "Neither do I. Now tell me, dear Princess; would you like to have your revenge? The ability to take down those men, and ones like them, that abuse their power and harm others for their own means? To seduce them to their eternal Doom?"

I didn't hesitate to answer. "Yes."

"Then kneel. Pledge yourself to me, and I will give you powers beyond imagination."

I knelt, bowing my head, arms raised in supplication. "I pledge myself to your service. I am yours to command, Lord Asmodeus."

"Very well. I accept your service." Extending his arm, Asmodeus offered his hand. I leaned in to kiss the goat headed ring on his finger.

Taking me by the hand, he led me up the staircase. Another throne, sparkling with gemstones the likes I had never before seen, appeared beside his, as if from nowhere. Flames encircled it as well, yet I felt no heat.

"Here, sit." With a gesture, he guided me to my seat before taking his own.

His voice turned deadly serious. "I have an offer for you, Princess. A position in my service; one I think you will quite enjoy."

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Nisan 13, 33 C.E.

"What troubles you, my love?"

I sat on the edge of the bed, naked, my breasts shining in the pale moonlight streaming through the open window.

My newest lover stood before it, also nude, staring up into the night sky. "The walls are closing in. I have heard the whispers, the grumbling. They will come for us. It is only a matter of time now."

I stood and moved to him. My arms enveloped his waist, my breasts crushed against his muscular back. My soft hand caressed his flaccid member, trying to coax it back to life.

My voice whispered lightly in his ear, a hint of fresh wine on my breath. "You could always turn him in."

The man whirled on me angrily, swatting my hand away. "I cannot! I must not! What you speak of is the worst kind of betrayal! I would be damned!"

"You would be saving yourself," I countered. "It is not you they want. It is him. He is the trouble maker, the rabble rouser. It is his radical teachings that stir the people to rebel against the Pharisees. Against the Empire."

I pressed myself to him again, pleased to discover the sleeping giant of his manhood stirring from its slumber. "Besides, if he is who he says he is, he should have no trouble escaping capture. And you will have redeemed yourself in the eyes of the High Priests. You will have done your duty to your people and your God, handing over a wicked blasphemer. They cannot blame you if he eludes them, can they?"

The man pondered this. "And what if he does not elude them? They will certainly crucify him."

"Then he is not who he claims to be, is he? And he would deserve his fate."

I smiled seductively, taking a firm grip on his throbbing organ. This time, he did not object.

"Come back to bed, Judas. Let me ease your worries. Things will look clearer come morning."

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Nisan 17, 33 C.E.

It was not yet dawn when I arrived at the tomb. Carefully scanning my surroundings with preternatural vision, I saw no one nearby.

Rolling the stone away from the cave entrance was easy; accomplished by a simple wave of the hand.

Removing the burial shroud from the already decaying corpse that lay supine on the crude stone altar was harder. I couldn't risk destroying it; my orders were to leave it intact. That meant getting my hands dirty.

"Ugh," I gasped as the final bits of cloth peeled away, along with several layers of rotted flesh. "Sorry about this, truly. But it's your own damn fault! Play with fire, you get burned. Or, in your case, nailed."

I eyed the fragile, pale body with regret. "Damn shame, really. You know, several of us had a running bet as to whether or not God really had done something as stupid as turn Himself into a human and come down to Earth. Do you realize how many low level Imps I'm gonna have to suck off now that you turned out to be a fraud?"

I lashed out, slapping the face of the unfeeling carcass. With a shake of my head, I laughed bitterly. "Look at me; I'm talking to a fucking corpse. I am definitely taking a well earned sabbatical after this."

With a resigned sigh, I bent, pressed my hands to the body, and pushed. "Okay, Yeshua, let's...ufff...get this over with."

The body fell to the ground with a dull thunk. I grimaced at the mess, then closed my eyes and focused my energy. The cave shook violently as the rocky surface beneath the cadaver split open, small cracks becoming a gaping maw, swallowing the body whole. The ground then slowly sealed itself, concealing the corpse of the former carpenter turned prophet completely.

"Good job," I chuckled to myself. "Last place anyone would look for the body of a dead Messiah; right where they left it."

Sunlight streamed through the opening of the cave as dawn arrived. Just outside, I could hear voices, footsteps getting closer.

"Right on time."

With a blink of my eyes, my dark robes transformed into a brilliant, glowing white. With a second blink, so did my hair.

Unlike most Angels and many of my fellow Demons, I did not possess wings. But with a little trick of the light and some clever manipulation of my robes, I could create the illusion easily enough.

Raising myself to my full height, I strode purposefully from the tomb.

Two women were waiting outside. One, the dead man's mother; the other, his secret wife. They fell to their knees, blanched with terror, as I approached.

"Fear ye not!" I proclaimed in a loud, clear voice. "I know ye seek Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here, for he is risen! Now go, quickly, and tell his disciples the news! Tell them to spread the word!"

The women scrambled to their feet, running back across the valley from which they'd come.

"And make sure you tell them the Angel who sent you was a WOMAN!" I yelled after them.

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Somewhere Outside Time And Space

"Is it done?"

I plunked myself down on my throne beside Asmodeus with an exhausted sigh. "Yes. Body gone without a trace, witnesses to the 'Angel' at the tomb declaring him 'risen.' The tale is already spreading."

"Good," Asmodeus boomed, sounding pleased. "Well done, Princess. You have served me well."

"I really wish you'd stop calling me that," I objected, "I haven't been a 'Princess' in a long time."

Asmodeus winked at me. "Whatever you say, M'Lady."

"Don't be a dick, As."

Asmodeus laughed his deep, rich laugh. "You know you love it, Cozbi. You've never stopped considering yourself royalty, even after that priest put a spear through your..."

"Enough," I snapped, clenching my lower belly. "Seriously, As, you know I hate it when you bring up the past."

"I am sorry, my love."

I simply glared at him. He didn't sound even slightly remorseful.

A thought then occurred to me. "I must ask; what was the point of all that? Would it not have been better for them to find the body still in the tomb? To discover he was a charlatan, just another false Messiah?"

"Oh, but you fail to understand the beauty of it," said Asmodeus. "His band of followers are spreading the word of his 'resurrection' as we speak. They are already dying for their belief in him.

"And soon, they will kill for that belief. Their cult will spread like wildfire, leaving chaos and mayhem behind them as they go. Wars will be fought in his name. Empires will fall. Even genocide. It will be glorious. And all to serve the purpose of our Master."

I smiled nonchalantly, but inside, my thoughts were in turmoil as the ramifications of my actions now became clear.

Seducing already wicked humans and leading them to their doom was one thing. But to have helped given rise to what surely would be an unheard of amount of pain and suffering was something altogether different. And I was well aware who would wind up suffering the most. The innocent; especially the women and children.

I found myself feeling like a pawn in a very big game; a game where neither the rules nor goals were made clear.

And I wasn't very happy about it.

Still, my options at this point were limited. To rebel against Asmodeus and refuse my assigned duties would lead to an immediate demotion and removal as Commander and Executive Officer; a rank I had worked very hard to rise to over the past several centuries, and a position usually reserved only for True Born Demons; those who were of the First Fallen. Those who, unlike me, had never been HUMAN.

Disobeying the Dark Lord would be career suicide. I could very well find myself cast off to the lowest depths of Hell, there to be given only the most menial of tasks. Probably cleaning shit from Cerberus' cage for all eternity.

And that's if he didn't simply blast me into Oblivion. Yes, even supernatural beings could be rendered to a state of nonexistence by someone more powerful. And as much as I hated to admit it, Asmodeus' powers far exceeded my own.

Masking my anger and disapproval, I instead merely nodded in agreement.

"The purpose of our Master. Yes, of course. Hail Satan."

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April 2nd, 2010 C.E. 6:15 AM

THWAAAAP!

Father MacKenzie howled in both pain and pleasure as the whip lashed at him, his cries muffled by the ball gag currently stuffed in his mouth still echoing in the high ceiling chapel.

I stood before him, a vision in black leather and red lace, a rawhide flogger in my silken gloved hand.

The priest hung from the full-sized cross that stood behind the pulpit he preached from every Sunday, his short, fat cock twitching with excitement, anticipating the next blow.

He didn't have to wait long. I lashed out three times in rapid succession, angry red welts forming over his chest, torso and thighs.

"You're enjoying yourself, aren't you, piggie?" I sneered up at him. "Squeal some more for me!"

The whip came down with repeated cracks, drawing louder screeches from him with every blow.

"You want more?" I asked snidely. "Remember, piggie: blink twice for no, three times for yes."

Father MacKenzie's eyes fluttered twice rapidly and, after a slight pause, a third time.

"Are you sure?" I asked, my voice mockingly concerned. "You hesitated on that last blink."

His watering eyes met mine and again he blinked, three times.

"Good piggie," I purred. "But first..."

Reaching into my cleavage, I produced a small, egg shaped device. Clicking the single button, the buttplug I had shoved up Father MacKenzie's ass before strapping him to the cross roared to life, his cock already spurting precum as it buzzed away against his prostate.

I laughed in delight. "Oops! Did I forget to tell you it vibrates? My bad! Oh, speaking of surprises, I have one more for you."

Father MacKenzie leered at the view of my full, round ass as I bent to pull out a box tucked away under one of the pews.

His expression changed from one of lust to confusion, turning quickly to fear as I opened it.

"Recognize this?" I asked as I straightened up and turned to face him. "It's your personal laptop. You know, the one your parishioners paid for with their tithes? The secret one you keep locked away in your office safe? I wonder what you keep on this, Father. Let's find out, shall we?"

Father MacKenzie growled his objections from beneath the gag, drool and spittle leaking out as his eyes went wide with horror.

"Tisk tisk tisk," I frowned as I scrolled through the folders. "Oh, Patrick, you have been a naughty boy, haven't you?"

Turning the screen towards him, I clicked through the images displayed. "These are you, right? On your knees in front of your altar boy? But I don't think you're praying, are you, Patrick?"

Setting the laptop down, I next produced several manilla envelopes from the box. "I've already taken the liberty of printing out these pictures. And your financial records. The ones showing all the money you skim off the church coffers. They're already addressed and stamped; this one to the local police, this one to the FBI, this one to a major media outlet, and finally one to the church board of directors."

Tears streamed from Father MacKenzie's eyes as he struggled to free himself, his muffled voice trying desperately to speak.