Feature Writer: WillFly4Sex

Feature Title: Midnights Mask 

Published: 20.10.2025

Story Codes: Erotic Horror

Synopsis: A couple finds trouble with a mysterious mask

Midnight’s Mask

The build up to Halloween was one of Marcus’ favorite times of year. Not just because of the fall weather and the color in the leaves, or the proliferation of Pumpkin Spice – a guilty pleasure of his – but because of the costumes. Marcus loved to dress up in costume, and took every opportunity, whether it was a Renaissance Faire or a cosplay at a Comic convention. He was always on the lookout for a thrifted or unique piece to become the next accessory or centerpiece for some new, outlandish costume. That’s why he had a spring in his step and a grin plastered on his face as he walked home carrying the nondescript plastic bag holding what was sure to be the focal point of an excellent costume for this year.

He often walked by the antique store he had purchased it from on his way home from the college he taught at. He had stopped in a few times earlier since he and his girlfriend had moved in to the neighborhood, but Marcus pretty quickly wrote it off as being too curated, too expensive. But something about today had pulled him towards the shop. He browsed around, still unimpressed by the collection or the prices, until he had worked his way into the back corner, an almost forgotten action of the store, more cluttered and dusty than the rest of the meticulously displayed pieces. Something shiny glinted in the dull light amidst the dust and cobwebs.

“That’s a pretty unique piece.”

The shopkeeper’s deep, bass-filled voice in Marcus’ ear made him start.

“Jesus-” He said, clutching his chest. The store owner ignored Marcus, reaching past him to grab the object and all but pressed it into Marcus’ hand.

Marcus had the ornate box thrust into his stomach where he was forced to grab it, looking at the proprietor incredulously. “Uh, I-” he bgan.

“Been waiting for the right customer, that one.” The man muttered, before leaving, still grumbling under his breath.

Marcus noted he didn’t turn to leave but rather backed away, his eyes never leaving the box he had just deposited in Marcus’ hands.

Marcus smiled ruefully and turned his attention to the box, his eyes tracing the ornate symbols carved in relief on the wood, his finger flipping the latch. As the lid opened, there was the slightest sound of rushing air, as if something was taking a breath in anticipation.

Sitting inside the box amidst a burgundy velvet lining was a mask of lacquered crimson. His fingers brushed over the smooth material, and it felt almost warm to the touch. The mask wasn’t particularly detailed, if anything it was an almost cartoonish or simplistic depiction of some generic smiling face with two small horns that protruded from the forehead, demon-like. It was the shape of something a child would draw if you asked them for a picture of a devil.

A smile spread across Marcus’ lips as he imagined the outfit he could put together around it, a perfect costume for the Halloween party he and Claire would be going to in a few weeks.

It wasn’t until he got home not long later that he retrieved the mask from its box again. Once again, his eyes were drawn to the intricate carvings along the wood, tracing their intersecting curves and lines with his finger as he held the box almost reverently. He heard the door to the apartment open, and then the faint sound of laughter, a woman. “Hi Claire,” he called out, not taking his eyes from the box. The laughter stopped.

He walked out into the living room, expecting to see his tall, beautiful girlfriend standing there, smiling at whatever had amused her so much she was laughing as she came through the door. Instead, the room was completely empty.

He set the box down, checking to see if she had wandered into the kitchen or the bathroom, but found nothing. Only the lingering scent of a strange perfume hung on the air, and the fading sound of laughter echoed in the small apartment. He hid the box with the strange mask in the bedroom. He told himself it was going to be a surprise for Claire, but there was something malicious in his heart as he tucked the box away. Something that didn’t feel entirely his own.

To Marcus’ dismay, the laughter that belonged to no one was only the beginning of the strange events that would plague him for the coming days.

It began as strange tricks of the eye or illusions as he went about his day. As he got ready for work one morning he was sure he saw the silhouette of a woman in the fogged mirror. He turned to greet what surely must be Claire, but no one was there. He thought he saw the figure again in the corner of his eye, reflected in the window of the very antique store he got the mask from. Again, when he turned to look, he saw nothing. Over and over this apparition of a tall, long-legged woman haunted him, always just on the periphery, always gone when he looked again. He saw her on a park bench beneath the gnarled branches of a tree. As he looked, a gust of wind scattered the fallen leaves and she dissolved into the ether along with them, as if she had never been there.

On a particularly cold day he decided to take the subway to work rather than walk. He crowded onto the packed rush-hour car and turned just as the doors began to close. A beautiful woman was there, just on the other side of the door, her hand reaching up towards him, pressed against the door as it slid shut. The car pulled away, and she disappeared, leaving only the scent of roses, and…. ash.

Each glimpse of this woman was fleeting, each made him question whether what he was seeing was real or if he was simply succumbing to the spooky nature of the season, where there was all manner of imagery of ghosts and monsters lurking in shadow.

He and Claire seemed to be on opposite wavelengths these days, he thought. She came home tired, complained that she wasn’t sleeping well of late, having bad dreams and restless nights. Maybe, thought Marcus, this was just my brain compensating for not getting to spend time with the girl I love. That day on his way home, he stopped and bought a bouquet of flowers. There were Stargazer lilies there, Claire’s favorite. He walked away with a bouquet of a dozen roses instead. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt drawn to them.

They did not go over particularly well.

He presented them to an exhausted Claire as soon as she walked in the door. She thanked him politely, but he could tell the gesture did not have the uplifting impact he had hoped.

He tried to suppress his frustration, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her in for a close hug. She laid her head on his shoulder, her blonde hair spilling down across his shoulder and chest.

His hands slid from her waist to cup her ass, pulling her closer to him.

“I know what will cheer you up.” he whispered seductively in her ear. He felt her pull away, catching the last little bit of her dramatic eye roll as she extricated herself from his grip.

“Marcus, ” she sighed. “I’m tired. I’m going to go take a bath.”

Outwardly, he smiled, trying to show sympathy, but inside something roiled and bubbled with fury. He felt his hands clench into fists, and his mind was suddenly filled with visions of him grabbing her by the hair, pushing her against the counter, holding her there as she struggled, even as he ripped her clothes off her…

He shook his head, shaking the violent images away.

The rest of the night went by in tense silence before Claire announced she was going to bed early, leaving Marcus alone on the couch as she shut the bedroom door behind her.

Marcus sat sullenly on the couch, looking for the remote so he could absently watch TV until sleep took him as well. His feet brushed against something underneath him that felt out of place. As he looked, he found the box that held the mask. He retrieved it, wondering how it had gotten here, trying to remember when he had moved it, or if Claire had found it and moved it. Surely she would have said something, asked him about it…

Those thoughts faded into obscurity as his fingers began running along the symbols and sigils on the wood, his lips moving as he spoke barely loud enough to hear the words coming to him unbidden, in a language he didn’t know. The latch flipped up, and the crimson mask stared up at him, leering its terrible smile at him as he removed it and slipped it on.

The mask hugged his face, feeling as if it had been made to fit the contours of his face. Where it touched his skin he felt a radiating warmth, but despite that he felt his whole body shiver. The mask ended just before his ears, though he swore he could hear the sound of his own pulse reverberating through the mask and back at him, crowding out the noise of the TV. Where the mask surrounded his mouth and the grinning orifice, it felt like lips brushing against his. He heard laughter again, louder this time but still muffled, as if coming from behind the door to the bedroom.

He took the mask off and put it away, the sensation as he peeled it off his face feeling like the fingers of a lover caressing his cheeks.

He opened the bedroom door slowly, peeking his head into the room to see the still form of Claire laying on her side. Her hair cascaded down around her face, and her over-sized t-shirt had been pulled down, revealing the top of her cleavage as it pressed together. Again, his vision flashed with vivid scenes of him crawling on top of her, pinning her with his weight as he grew hard, leering down at her. He blinked, and he once more saw her sleeping peacefully, shifting ever so slightly as the light spread into the room from the cracked door.

Marcus took a deep breath, undressed as quietly as he could, and slipped into bed with her, brushing her hair away from her face gently as he looked on, smiling.

Marcus awoke with a start some time later. The air smelled of smoke, as if a candle had just been snuffed out. He had an ominous feeling, as if he wasn’t alone in the small room. Claire shifted slightly next to him, pulling the covers up over her shoulder where she lay. They must have been thrashing in their sleep ; the blankets were a mess, yanked to one side and spilling off the bed. Claire’s bare legs were exposed as she lay half-curled. Marcus was staring at the sexy curve her hips made as they transitioned into her long, sexy legs when he noticed the hand resting on Claire’s calf.

His breath caught as he saw the long fingers with darkly-painted nails withdraw into the shadow. He peered into the gloom of the dark bedroom, his eyes going wide as he began to make out the shape of the person – the woman – standing there. Smoke seemed to curl up around her body somehow as she stood near the foot of the bed. She was one of hte most breathtakingly beautiful women he had ever seen. Every curve on her body was a sinful invitation; the swell of her hips, the taut rise of her breasts barely visible in the shadow. She was sculpted perfection, and Marcus felt himself react physically even as his brain tried to parse exactly what he was seeing.

Her lips glistened, a smile spread across them that promised indulgence and ruin. Small horns curled from her forehead, and behind her he noticed more movement; the leathery stretch of huge, bat-like wings that tensed against her body, a flick of a long slender tail that ended with wicked barb on it as it swayed in the darkness.

A demon, Marcus’ sleep–addled brain finally put together. A moment of fear gripped him, before he relaxed again. Obviously this was some kind of dream. He let his eyes drift back down the devil-creature’s body, lingering on her curves. She radiated pure carnal pleasure; equal parts goddess and monster.

The devil, demon, whatever she was, circled the bed, walking languidly around the foot, her body disappearing into shadow, only the briefest glimpses of her in the dim light as she stalked toward him. Terror one again began to seize him before he forced himself to relax. It was just a weird, Halloween-inspired freaky dream, after all.

She stopped next to him, leaning down towards him, her breasts brushing his chest has he leaned back and away from her. Her horns bumped into his head making him start, but she placed a hand on his chest – claws scraping along his flesh in a way that was both soothing and arousing. Her breath was searing against his throat as she leaned even closer, her hands tracing a path down his chest, moving lower and lower as she spoke.

“I can give you delight beyond your wildest dreams, Marcus.” She whispered, her lips grazing his ear. Her voice was velvet and smoke, a sensual purr, a murmur that seemed to vibrate his bones deliciously. Marcus could easily plant his lips on her dark skin, could taste her if he wanted, but he hesitated.

She laughed then, a musical laugh that seemed to fill the room. For a moment Marcus was sure Claire would awaken at any moment, then remembered none of this was real. He glanced sideways then, to the form of his still-sleeping girlfriend, seeing she hadn’t moved, but when he turned his attention back to the thing that hovered above him, her face was directly in front of his, a smile that promised pleasures unnamed sitting crooked on her lips. She licked those lips then, her tongue flicking out like a snake as her hand slithered down the hard plane of his chest and slipping under the overs until her long fingers were wrapped firmly around his cock. He stifled a groan and shuddered, the sudden heat of her hand making his body tense.

“You already feel me stirring your blood,” she tease, giving him a squeeze and then stroking hom slowly, deliberately. “You can have more, you need only ask.” She lowered her head, her eyes locked onto his as she moved her face inches from his swollen head as she held him.

“Mmm, fuck.” He groaned, lifting his head to watch. “Who…. what are you?” he asked.

Her face took on a countenance like that of a petulant child, even as she lowered it so her cheeks were resting on the same hand that gripped his hardness.

“I’m a prisoner, Marcus.” She said. He could feel her hot breath on the head of his cock. He ached for more as she squeezed him, holding him in place as the smile spread across her lips once more. “Bound in chains you cannot see,” she continued. “But you can break them.”

“H..how?” he practically moaned the words, trying to arch his hips up to inch himself closer to her lips.

“You know how.” She said, the coy smile spreading as she lowered her head further, her hand holding his aching, throbbing manhood in front of her face as she looked past it and into his eyes.

Without another word he reached down and ran his fingers through her raven hair, watching as her wicked smile slipped over his head and engulfed him in pleasure.

He woke with a start, his body drenched in a cold sweat and aching with a hunger he didn’t fully understand.

As the days ticked closer to October 31st, the pair remained somewhat distant. Claire was irritable, short-tempered. Marcus was brooding and sullen, resentful of Claire for reasons he couldn’t even articulate.

She came home one evening to find Marcus sitting on the couch, the box open on the seat beside him as he gazed – almost lovingly – at the mask. He had told her, snapped at her, actually, that he found the perfect piece for his costume, but he hadn’t shown it to her. She felt an unnatural revulsion at the mask as she looked at it. To her it seemed as if the mask was made of some strange leather, as if it were skin stretched taut around something that only vaguely resembled a face. She shuddered, but took a step into the room.

“Is this the big costume surprise you were saving for me?” She asked. She hadn’t meant for the question to be laced with so much venom. Marcus scowled as he turned to her. Before waiting for a sharp retort, she reached for the mask.

As she extended her hand, a menacing whisper hissed across her mind, low and intimate, like someone was standing right behind her suddenly.

“He’s mine.” the voice said, like wind whistling through dead branches.

She recoiled, her hand knocking the mask from Marcus’ grip.

“For fuck’s sake, Claire!” Marcus scolded, reaching immediately for the mask, turning it over in his hands, inspecting it for any damage. He brushed dust from the crimson surface as Claire stood there, a mixture of horror and revulsion spreading from her stomach.

“I don’t like it.” She said flatly, crossing her arms defiantly as she watched Marcus continue to dote over the antique. He put the mask back into the box, almost reverently, she thought, before turning his attention to her.

“Why not?” he asked, suddenly defensive.

She hesitated, replaying the events in her mind.

“I don’t know,” she lied. She didn’t want to admit to her self that she thought the mask had just spoken to her. She was tired. That was all it was.

Marcus, as if finally seeing how unsettled she was, felt his face soften.

“Hey, come here.” he said, trying to comfort her. He reached out, taking her hand and pulling her to him. The box sat open on the opposite side of him as he turned toward her.

“It’s just an old, creepy mask.” He said, arm wrapped around her.

She let him pull her towards him, feeling him kiss her temple in a gesture that should have been soothing. She reluctantly let the matter drop, though her gaze lingered on the mask with unease.

That night she felt much closer to him than she had in the past few days, maybe even weeks. She curled into him as they shared the couch, a cheesy horror movie flickering across the screen. Claire flinched at a particular jump scare and pressed closer into him. Marcus had placed the mask back in the bedroom, sitting atop a pile of clothes in Marcus’ closet where it was out of Claire’s sight. It pulsed with a sickly green light.

Claire’s face was buried into the crook of Marcus’ neck, sheepishly hiding her eyes from the gory violence on the television. Her lips grazed his neck, her hands where she had them wrapped around his arm began to drift across his body as she planted tiny kisses on him.

Marcus blinked in surprise. Claire was gorgeous, and they had a great sex life, but she was never one to initiate. He felt himself melting into her touch as she turned toward him with more urgency.

Her kisses deepened, warm and hungry, her teeth grazing his lip in a way that send jolts of electricity through him. She pulled her mouth away from him just enough to breathe words into his ear.

“I want to taste you.” she whispered, pulling her face back to look into his eyes with hers, her face a smile of dark seduction that was decidedly unlike her. Before he could respond, she slid her body down onto the floor in front of him, her fingers deftly freeing him from his jeans as she continued to look up at him seductively.

“Claire, what are you…” he trailed off as her mouth engulfed him. Claire had gone down on him before, when he had asked for it. She was always shy and tentative; unsure of herself or what he wanted. This was something else entirely.

She took him deep, choking and gagging on his length, her hand wrapped around the base. She pulled back only to lick him with obscene devotion before plunging down on him again. Her gaze remained locked onto his, even as she took him so deeply that it brought tears to her eyes. She slid her lips off him with a slurp, her hand stroking wetly as a lewd smile spread across her lips.

“Please, Marcus,” she moaned between licks, her voice dripping with need. “Give me your cum.”

A part of him recognized this was not his Claire. She had never spoken to him like this. Unseen, in the bedroom, the mask continued to shimmer and glow.

For an instant, as his climax rose and she continued to suck greedily, the flicker of the television made it appear as if horns were protruding from her head. He blinked, and it was just her again, her pale eyes looking up at him as her lips stretched around him, hands stroking insistently until he erupted into her mouth.

She swallowed, eyes fluttering closed in bliss, and beneath her satisfied gulp Marcus heard it; the low seductive laugh of the woman from his dream.

Neither of them spoke about the night before when they each rose the next day, the morning of All Hallow’s Eve. That night there was a costume party at their friend’s house, an annual tradition that they both looked forward to.

Claire no longer protested about Marcus’ choice of costume; the mask prominently hung on his face, his body draped in a cheap red and black cloak, and a fuzzy tail tied on to his belt. It was comically bad, and unlike past years when they had gone with matching costumes, it contrasted sharply with Claire’s angelic faerie costume.

They arrived with the party already in full swing. A group of Marcus’ fellow teachers and a number of their friends from college. The air inside the modest home was heavy with the scent of cider, sweat, and the cheap pleather of dollar-store costumes. The mask clung to Marcus’ like a second skin.

The two drifted through the party, drinking and chatting, with people commenting on how creepy his costume was, Claire hovering at his side, an uneasy feeling growing within her each time it was mentioned.

They had stepped outside for some fresh air as the night grew later and the party louder. It was when they returned that they saw her.

She stood in the kitchen around the menagerie of wine bottles and cups and other accoutrement. She was laughing loudly, an audience of eager patrons gathered around her, hanging off her every word. She was dressed in a costume straight from the pages of some teenage boy’s fantasies; a slutty demon, painted horns gleaming from the elastic headband that held them in place, a set of papery wings tucked awkwardly behind her, and a dress that revealed more than it hid.

When she looked over and saw them both, her eyes glimmered with something a little too sharp, too knowing. She immediately turned her back on the throng of hopefuls and approached Claire and Marcus without hesitation, sliding up next to them as if she belonged there. She took an appreciative glance at Claire’s costume before leaning in so she could be heard over the noise of conversation and music.

“I love your outfit.” she said, her voice sultry. Claire felt the woman’s hand on her lower back as she leaned in, her smile lingering as she straightened.

Claire’s instincts were to leave, to grab her boyfriend’s hand and get away, but there was something about her voice, the way her eyes lingered on Claire’s figure beneath the lacy bodice she wore. The woman’s attention was so singular on Claire that it was like Marcus and the rest of the people at the party weren’t even there, despite the hungry way dozens of eyes watched the interaction.

They stood there for what might have been mere moments or hours. Claire’s mind reeled from the wine and the heady scent of weed in the air while the three of them talked. Claire couldn’t remember what the woman had said her name was… or if they had even made introductions, but they all spoke as if they were longtime friends.

Claire had enough of her wits about her to notice the way the woman casually brushed against Marcus – her fingers trailing his wrist as she passed him a drink, the whisper of her hip against his thigh in the press of the crowd – but always her eyes returned to Claire. Those same little touches were applied to Claire as well; a thumb tracing the inside of Claire’s wrist, the brush of crimson lips as she leaned into whisper something that made Claire’s cheeks flush.

Marcus watched as Claire’s cheeks warmed, as her nervous laughter softened into giggles, as Claire’s breath hitched each time the woman’s hand lingered on her.

Before long they were all seated on a couch not big enough for the three of them, their bodies pressed against one another. Claire had her legs over the other woman’s, her back to Marcus as he watched them, unable to hear the little whispers that resulted in Claire blushing and giggling, pushing the hair from her face as she looked away shyly.

To Marcus’ utter astonishment, the woman turned and grabbed Claire’s face in her hands, pulling her into a kiss. Conversation in the room stopped as all eyes landed on the two beautiful women locked in a smouldering embrace. Their lips and tongues wrestled sensuously with one another. Only Marcus saw the woman open her eyes, locking him with a mischievous stare that sent a jolt of recognition through him.

After a moment, the woman pulled away, leaving Claire’s face hanging in the air, half cocked to the side, lips parted as if waiting for more. She laughed, a wicked, almost cruel laugh as she looked at Claire then stood and helped both she and Marcus to their feet, taking each of them in one hand and leading them through the stunned onlookers and upstairs.

Upstairs, the woman led them down a hall, looking back over her shoulder at each of them with a smile that promised far more than just mischief. She pushed open a door to a bedroom that had been piled high with coats and jackets, ushering the pair inside and shutting the door behind them.

The air grew thick, charged with electricity as the tension grew.

The woman advanced on Claire then with a predator’s grace, lifting the stunned girl’s face with her fingers and pressing her lips into Claire’s mouth once more. They kissed again, slow at first, like on the couch a moment earlier; a coaxing brush of lips against one another. Then it grew deeper, more insistent; tongues sliding together, lips parting with wet sounds. Claire gasped against the woman’s mouth, the shock giving way to a trembling moan as the stranger’s hand slid over her body, sliding around her hips to cup her ass and pull their bodies tightly together.

Claire’s knees nearly buckled as the kiss went on, her breath growing ragged and her body arching into the woman’s touch. They broke away only long enough for the woman dressed as a demon to bend slightly, trailing her crimson lips down Claire’s throat as she stretched her face toward the ceiling. Claire felt sharp teeth nipping at the hollow of her neck and shuddered while Marcus watched, enthralled, as his shy, demure girlfriend clutched at this other woman’s shoulders, her protests melting into sighs of pleasure.

When the woman pulled back, her voice was low and coaxing. “Let me show you something,” she murmured, brushing Claire’s hair aside. Her hand slipped behind Claire’s back, drawing her toward the bed. The movement was gentle, almost tender, until Claire felt the edge of the mattress against her thighs. The stranger reached for something in the pile of coats, drawing out a length of silk. She let it slide across her own fingers, then traced it along Claire’s lips. “Just trust me,” she whispered. Claire hesitated, trembling, then nodded with wide eyes. The scarf followed, soft against her mouth, then her wrists as they were lifted above her head and bound to the bedpost. The silk tightened, firm but not cruel, leaving Claire flushed and gasping, her lips swollen from the kiss. Marcus watched as she was bound to the bedpost, her body arching under the stranger’s touch.

The mysterious woman teased her mercilessly, slowly peeling off the faerie costume where it lay half-crushed under Claire. She kissed each part of Claire’s pale skin as it was exposed circling Claire’s nipples with her tongue, biting gently at her lower lip until she moaned. Then she turned toward Marcus, eyes glinting, and ran her fingers through his hair, urging him to drop to his knees.

Together they poured their hunger into Claire: the woman kissing her mouth, biting at her breasts, while Marcus slid between her thighs, burying his face in her wet heat. Claire cried out, bound and helpless but trembling and writhing under the double assault. The stranger’s tongue tangled with hers, swallowing her moans, while Marcus licked and sucked until she was slick and shuddering.

After Claire’s body shook with the force of her orgasm, the woman let out another low, almost cruel-sounding laugh; a mockery of joy or pleasure. The cheap bat-wings had fallen off, but the plastic horns still sat atop her head as she leaned over to lift Marcus by the chin, guiding him to stand once more. His eyes were glazed with need as he stood between Claire’s spread legs. Claire whimpered, half-panicked and half-aroused, bound and helpless as she tried not to look at the hideous mask her boyfriend wore.

The woman crawled onto the bed, throwing a leg over the woman’s prone and bound body so that her slick sex hovered just above the girl’s lips. Clare had never tasted another woman, had never even dared such a thing, but the heat of the moment and her own arousal was too much; she strained her neck upward, pressing her tongue into the woman’s folds.The woman shivered and purred, hips rolling against Claire’s mouth.

“That’s my little pet,” she whispered even as she bent forward and reached towards Marcus. “So eager to please.” Her voice was sultry and dripped with poison. Her hands deftly freed Marcus, long fingers wrapping around his already engorged shaft and stroking it as Clarie’s tongue worked feverishly between her legs. The woman licked her lips, the forked tongue sliding across them.

“Just like you were the other night,” she added with a wicked grin, pulling Marcus so he stepped closer to the sprawled form of his girlfriend, kneeling between her legs.

“Every filthy word on your lips, every hungry swallow… that was me.” She squeezed Marcus cock as punctuation, leaning down even further to take his swollen cock into her mouth as she laughed.

Claire froze, eyes widening as realization cut through the haze of alcohol and lust.

The mask.

The whispers.

The urges that felt so alien.

She began to shake her head, wanting this to end, wanting to tell Marcus to take that fucking mask off and throw it away, to take her home. She pulled at her bonds, panic rising in her throat even as the woman above her ground her hips down, smothering any protests with wet heat, lewd slurping sounds coming from where a stranger was swallowing her boyfriend’s cock.

The woman only laughed all the louder, smothering Claire as she straddled the poor girl.

Marcus groaned as he felt the forked tongue sliding around him, her red, wet lips enveloping every inch of him as Claire squirmed and fought beneath the temptress.

Finally the woman – was she a woman? – climbed off Claire, leaving her face streaked with spit and other juices as she sobbed. When Claire finally opened her eyes, she saw the woman standing behind Marcus, an arm wrapped around his chest almost possessively. Claire looked, her jaw falling open as she took in the sight.

Gone were the plastic horns, replaced by a gnarled and twisted set of goat-like horns that curled directly from the woman’s forehead. Smoke seemed to cling to them and rise up in wisps. The woman’s eyes were a deep purple, with slitted pupils that looked down evilly upon Claire, even as her long forked tongue flicked out to caress Marcus’ neck. Huge, black, leathery wings unfurled behind her, and Claire felt a slender, prehensile tail wrap around her ankle, pulling it sharply aside as the – what was this – a demon? A fucking demon?? As she guided Marcus towards Claire exposed and vulnerable heat.

“Marcus!” Claire cried out. “Marcus, please..” she pleaded between cries of anguish, but Marcus’s eyes simply stared through Claire as he slid himself inside her.

Tears streaked down Claire’s face as Marcus began fucking her, slowly and deeply, his eyes glazed over in lust.

The demon-woman simply stood behind him, her bare breasts pressed into his back as she looked on.

“Yes, that’s it, fuck her, Marcus.”

Claire’s pleading devolved into moans and whimpers that were a mix of shame and pleasure as Marcus filled her and stretched her in ways he never had before.

“Stop, Marcus…” She whimpered, though the fight had gone out of her, the words falling out of her mouth weakly. Claire let her eyes close as the bed shook from Marcus’ thrusts.

She opened them again as she felt the bed shift, a new weight on it, and when her eyes fluttered open the demon’s face was right next to hers, her alien eyes glimmering with a new cruelty.

“Please.” Was all Claire could get out, her body being ravaged as Marcus fucked like a rutting animal, grunting and sweating from the exertion of it, the mask still hideously plastered to his face.

The demon looked back at Marcus, who abruptly stopped his thrusting through some silent communication. For a long moment he stood there, still impaling Claire but otherwise not moving as sweat dripped down his chest.

“Well,” the demon began, pressing her face into Claire’s again as the woman tried to recoil. Claire felt the woman shifting again, straddling her as she lay prone and bound. “If you don’t want him anymore…” She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

The succubus lowered her hips until she lay on top of Claire, their breasts pressed together obscenely. She looked back over her shoulder, between the folds of her wings at Marcus.

Without a word, he slid himself out of Claire, somehow leaving her feeling even more exposed and empty.

“No, please…” she whispered, breaking into sobs again as she felt the demon’s body press forward as Marcus entered her from behind.

The smile that spread across the demon was the embodiment of cruelty and passion, her sharp fangs glinting in the light as she pressed her mouth roughly into Claire’s.

“He’s mine now,” she said as she pulled away, blood dripping from her mouth from where she had bit down on Claire’s swollen lip. The demoness moaned wickedly as Marcus began to pound her just as he had been pounding Claire moments earlier; his hips grasping at her waist as he thrust so hard Claire felt the force of it.

“And you,” whispered the demon, arching her back as she pushed her hips back into Marcus, her tail coiling possessively around his thigh as she grabbed Claire’s cheeks with her hand. “Will watch.”

The demon bent low to smother Claire’s mouth in a kiss that the girl whimpered into, town between shame, fear, and arousal as she felt her boyfriend savagely fucking this thing on top of her.

Marcus was lost in the creature’s body, moving with desperate energy as she clenched around him, milking every thrust as the room filled with the sound of flesh slapping, muffled moans and the bed frame creaking.

“Oh, yes!” cried the demon, serving as much pleasure from the cock inside of her as the cries of despondency and ruin coming from Claire.

Marcus cries of his own climax mixed with the demon’s as she shuddered, but to Claire’s utter horror, his groans quickly became a hoarse scream, as if his lungs were trying desperately to cry for help but his throat could make no sound. His body arched, tensed, and convulsed. He seemed to wither into nothing, the mask searing hot against his face and slipping away as the room filled with the smell of burnt flesh and sulphur. Claire watched in horror as his body grew pale and started to collapse in on itself like a desiccated corpse. His mouth remained open in that silent scream.

In the span of just a few heartbeats, he had dissolved into smoke and ash. The succubus, peeling herself off Claire and standing to her full, terrifying glory, breathed deeply of the smoke, inhaling what was left of Marcus with a shuddering moan of ecstasy that rippled through her body.

She walked to the side of the bed, dipping low as Claire lay motionless, too stunned to even recoil. Claire felt the strange tongue slide across her cheek, lapping up the tears and laughing. A moment later she stood again, smiling down at Claire’s trembling, shaking form. Her tongue flicked across her lips once more.

“Delicious.”

Claire’s cries grew more intense as she struggled against her bonds while the demon casually donned and straightened her stolen dress, stepping toward the door. Claire didn’t notice how, or when, but the wings on the demon were once more a cheap set of plastic ones, the horns on her head likewise a flimsy set of plastic horns crudely painted and attached with an elastic band.

Without a backward glance she slipped into the hall, back out into the party.

Her laughter was the last thing Claire heard before the door shut.

THE END