DANCING WITH THE DEVIL 1 by Creative Boy In Spring

Feature Writer: creativeboyinspring

Feature Title: DANCING WITH THE DEVIL 1

Published: 12.09.2023

Story Codes: Erotic Horror

Synopsis: A neckbeard tries to summon the Devil to make a deal.

Author’s Notes: The following dark story has themes of misogyny, non-consent sex, humiliation, abuse and other dark themes. If such content offends you, please do not read it. This is an erotic fiction story. This is purely for entertainment and never meant to happen in reality. If you have issues with such kinks, please do not read.

Dancing with the Devil 1

“Keep. Your. Eyes. Open, Jennifer,” Tim basically growls at me as he holds my wrist so tight it hurts. His big brown eyes are very hard and cold as they stare at me, wanting me to take this as serious as a heart attack. It takes all that I am not to roll my eyes at this, but I nod once to answer.

It’s at times like this that I wonder how in the hell I got myself into this. Not just that, but why I keep on with this farce as it has become so very stupid. Beyond stupid. It’s gone into Jewish Space Lazer and drinking bleach to cure COVID stupid. So why am I still here?

In the beginning, this was all exciting and new. It felt like I was part of something important. Like a secret society, where I could feel important and know that we were doing honest goodness. Beyond that, there was a touch of the supernatural, which made life seem exciting and new again. Like there was a world here that I had never seen, but could be apart of.

Yeah, I was just 25 when I joined, which is pretty young to most, but that doesn’t mean that life can’t be boring. It was just work, go home, go on dates with idiots, go to work. Makes me wonder if I wasn’t so bored…would I ever have joined? Would I have gone with Tim?

“He could be anyone,” Tim states in his serious as can be tone. I look up at him again, where I never mind looking into those eyes of his. They are very easy to get lost in, as is his face. So is his energy for that matter. He’s just so filled with conviction.

My mind then drifts to memories of seeing Tim’s body. Of times when we all went to the gym and I saw him work out. Oh, how I could watch him do set after set, secretly wishing it was me he was using instead of some gym equipment. Where I bet he could go all night long, and then some.

“R-Right,” I state, trying to sound as serious as he does while coming out of my thoughts. Tim nods at me, then looks at Tommy who is behind me. The two men nod at each other, signaling that it is “go” time.

With his “destiny” filling him, Tim turns to face the door. When he does, I take a quick glance at him and what he’s wearing. I’ve honestly never seen him wear anything so, well, fancy. Tim, by his own admission is a simple man. Wearing a t-shirt and jeans always, except for special events when he puts on a polo. But tonight he’s wearing a pretty stylish button down shirt with silky looking slacks.

“It’s go time,” Tommy says behind me, pumping himself up, much like Tim is doing while facing the door. If I didn’t know either of them, I might think this was some operation to rob the party we are about to attend. But I bet if I told anyone the real reason we are crashing this party, they would die laughing.

Tim then takes a look to the left and right, most likely checking to see if we are being watched or followed. Sad to say, this run down city street is all but empty. That is if you don’t count the trash being blown around by the wind.

The metal door is then opened by Tim, revealing the insides of this old building. At once the once doors reveal an atmosphere that is counter to the old and crumbling atmosphere outside the building. Outside is the ghetto of all ghetto areas, while inside it looks like a New Yorker upper crust party.

Just in case, I pull out the “Invitation” that I was given for this party. Fake of course. It’s a copy of something that was found on the internet. But I scan the invitation anyway, where it lists the day and time of tonight, for this “New Adams Art Exhibit.”

This “party” is actually an art exhibit and this place is an art gallery. Why they put it here, I have no clue. It’s supposedly a very secret art gallery that isn’t open to the public. It’s invitation only, even when there isn’t a party. From what I’ve read, the art here is so good it’ll make you cry. The sort of stuff that will change your life.

With his shoulders hunched over, Tim enters the building looking like he’s about to be in a battle royale. When he does this, he just stands out so badly. His fancy clothes can’t seem to hide the dumb-redneck vibe that he gives off. It pulses from him, making it pretty obvious he rather be drinking a beer while laughing at a friend making a dead deer dance.

Tommy moves from behind me now, walking much like Tim. He even walks and stands next to Tim while the pair of them scan the area. Then the two men glance at each other and turn to walk in opposite directions.

With a sigh, I walk slowly into the building, and into the lobby. Thankfully Tim believed my lie earlier about how I have to walk slow because of the dress I’m wearing. I said it because I thought maybe I could actually enjoy this party. To take in the vibe of being around high class people. Where I can pretend I’m not living my life for maybe half an hour.

I’ll admit, the reason I signed up for this “mission” is to get a glimpse of high class life. Where people here will think of me as on their level. Where I’ll be beautiful, smart and classy, instead of the silly accountant that I really am. That is until they figure out I’m lying and kick me out.

Moving deeper into the actual gallery, I become a bit flabbergasted. They weren’t kidding about the art. All over there are breathtaking pieces, the sort that I feel guilty even getting to see. There’s one painting that somehow looks like it keeps changing.

Smiling, I grab a glass of champagne from a table and drink about half of it. I feel it burn as it goes down, giving me that familiar sense of liquid courage. I just hope it’ll be courage enough to roleplay good enough to fool the people here. Maybe even find a future husband.

I then look around to try and find Tim. Despite the stupidity of why we are here, I need to make him think I’m doing the mission. That I’m trying to help out. Otherwise I’ll get a lecture in front of the entire group.

Tim’s off in a corner, quickly about to disappear from my sight, checking everyone out. And I don’t mean that in a “I want to have sex with you” check out, but sizing people up to fight. It’s like he glances at each man he sees and then ponders what it would take to beat the guy up. But since most of the men are middle aged, I don’t think he would have that hard of the time.

Finishing my champagne, I feel like going up to Tim and yelling at him for a change. They go on and on about blending in during the mission where he sticks out worse than if he had his dick out. At the end of the night, he’s going to bitch and complain about how this mission was a failure, but never think it was because of him. But man…what an ass on the guy.

“Well hello beautiful,” a very silky voice greets from behind me. Something about that voice is so sexy and beautiful, as strange as that sounds. It makes me think of capturing silk as a drink and pouring it into my ears.

Turning around, I look for the owner of the voice as it’s clear he’s speaking to me. When I see who is looking at me, I pause. I am not sure who I was expecting, but it wasn’t what I’m seeing. It’s enough that I feel the words I was about to say fade from my mind.

In front of me is a long rectangular wooden table with plenty of seats. It’s mean as a table for people to sit and consume the refreshments. But at the moment, there’s a tall slim build man on the other side of it, smiling at me.

This man is dressed in a dark blue suit that looks, damn sexy. The fabric on it seems to glow, even if I know it’s not. Much like his voice, his suit and shirt looks like it would be the smoothest of fabric. Like they had to scientifically modify an animal just to make it. I can tell with my middle class senses that the suit alone costs more than I make in a year.

Looking at the guy, I can’t believe how incredibly good he guy is. His features are very striking, making every movie star I’ve ever fantasied about seem pathetic in comparison. His jaw line, his eyebrows, just everything seems perfectly molded. Like they were chiseled from marble.

Another thing that is remarkable about him is that even if it’s lit fairly well in here, he is partly in shadow. I can see his face and all his features, but it’s like he’s clouded in mystery. The James Bond of James Bond so to speak.

As I look at him, I try to guess more about him, but I have trouble. His nearly shaved head and dark skin make it impossible to figure what race he is. He could be a very tanned white guy, or a light skin black guy, or hell, from the Middle East. There’s just no way to tell.

“Hello beautiful yourself,” I reply back after what is already an uncomfortable pause. I say this in a flirty way, as someone like him has to know how good looking he is.

“I thought I would save you the trouble, and just introduce myself,” the mysterious man says, motioning for me to sit across from him. He then motions to a server that is nearby, who is non-stop staring at the good looking man. This server quickly moves forward to provide us both with a glass of champaign.

“Wow. Save me the trouble? Full of ourselves, are we?” I comment as I sway to the table. In my voice I try to put in a bit of scorn as a way to make him feel bad for being so arrogant. From him I get the vibe that he wants to fuck me, and since he knows he’s good looking, I gather he thinks he can just demand it and I’ll drop my panties. But it doesn’t work like that pal.

“Not the first time that has been said about me. But yes. I find that introducing myself to those looking for me saves time,” the man replies, flashing a rugged smirk. He then proceeds to sit down.

“Looking for you? You think I’m looking…for you?” I ask, nearly laughing at how arrogant he must be. I take it he is about to use some cheap line about how I’m searching for true love, or maybe a husband.

“You are. You and your two gentlemen companions,” the man answers. He then motions for me to sit, while a sharp sting seems to move over me.

The fact this guy knows about Tim and Tommy makes alarm bells ring. How did he know about them? But as fast as the sting of fear hits me, my logical brain calms me down. It’s simply. He saw the three of us come in together, even if we didn’t really come in together.

“Ok. And why would we be looking for you?” I ask him, trying to keep my flirty tone to keep things light. Yet the sting of fear hasn’t left me yet. In fact, I get a very uncomfortable feeling now.

For the briefest of moments I get that feeling were you just know the world has gone crazy. That you are the only sane person in it and no one understands. The world is upside-down, with black is right, left is up and your own name has changed. I feel this way because for a fraction of a second it feels like…Tim may not be a crazy cultist after all.

The good looking man continues to smile at me, but looks a bit puzzled. He then laughs a good natured smile, making it appear that I’m messing with him even if I’m asking a real question. Yet the way he does it is like he’s in a movie with how good looking he is.

“Tell me Jennifer, why do you ask a question to which you know the answer?” The mysterious man asks as a reply. His dark brown eyes look upon me, where I feel that stab of fear again. Where my brain fights hard not to give into any wild thoughts.

“N-No,” I state confidently. I then take a sip of my champaign, trying to act cool and calm. To try and make it look real, I even put on a big smile.

“No. No way. Not real. You got me. This has to be some sort of stupid test then. Tim set you up then?” I ask, getting a bit upset. A flash of anger moves over me as I consider that this is the lengths that Tim will go to test me. That he will set up some stupid fancy jerk to try and trick me. Or most likely, this is a real party he convinced me to crash just so he could do some stupid cultist test.

“Oh, I am very real. Well, not in the physical sense, but yes, I am here, in front of you,” the good looking man counters.

To this I stare at him, getting more and more scared. What makes the fear linger is that he said my name earlier. Sure, if this is a test, he would know it from Tim. But if this isn’t a test…then what? No. Of course this man is full of shit. He has to be a plant of some sort. If not by Tim, then by someone from the group.

Looking at him, I get an idea. A brilliant idea. If they want to test me, then I’ll freaking test them. If he is who he says he is, which is our “target” for tonight that Tim and Tommy are searching for, if I try and touch him, he won’t really be there. If he’s the target, he’ll have no real physical form.

“By all means, here, go ahead,” the mysterious man says without me saying anything out loud. He then moves his left arm out as if offering it to me. The man then does the motion that seems to say, “please touch my arm.”

A new cold fear moves over me as it’s as if he read my mind. He seemed to know I wanted to touch him and to test if he’s for real. But…but that could still be a plant right? One of the first things you are supposed to do to test if it’s him is touch him. So it could have been a really good guess, right? Right?!

The man lifts his arm some, bringing it closer towards me so I can touch it. But by the life of me, I never wanted to touch anything less. It’s his eyes. From the look in them, he’s not bluffing. It tells me that if I did touch him, my hand would go straight through, which isn’t something I’m prepared for.

“You…you’re….you’re….” I stammer out, feeling not just my face but my entire body go pale. My hand even moves to point at him, even if I don’t mean to as I stammer this out.

The man continues to hold his arm out, inviting me to touch him, but for only a few more moments. He then pulls it back once I start stammering. But there’s no annoyance or anger on his. Merely a sense of boyish charm.

“Yes. Yea I am. You and your compatriots would call me The Devil. But one name is as good as another as far as I am concerned. Lucifer. Little Horn. Lightbringer. Satan,” the man lists in a vague manner that seems to show he doesn’t really care about what he’s called. That he is confident enough that mean names don’t affect him.

“I…I…” I keep stammering, feeling my world coming down. All at once, my life feels like it is over. In a way, I feel it passing over me, like it’s moving in front of my eyes.

Four months ago I met Tim at a bookstore. We both happened to be in the non-fiction section, where I found a book on Lucifer. I thought it looked interesting because it was a look at all the different culture’s version of the Devil. It was a study of culture really, not anything to do with the actual Devil. More like a look into mythology.

Tim saw me with it and we struck up a conversation about biblical figures. He seemed so charming in a brutish way. We seemed to hit it off talking about demons, angels and many other topics. From there we had coffee and exchanged social medias. After that we moved to DMs and IMs.

The two of us became friends, even if I did want it to become more. Not so much boyfriend girlfriend, but I wouldn’t mind a friends with benefits sort of deal. From this he would invite me out with his friends to hang out, where it was normally at some country bar.

A couple of months into our friendship. Tim confessed that he belonged to a group that knew the Devil was real. That they had ways of tracking him. Yes, I knew he and his other cult friends were crazy, but he didn’t try to make me join. It was more like he was letting me know so there were no secrets.

Now, I did get sucked in. Not because he was a great talker or anything like that, but because Tim showed me the computer program they had created to track “The Devil.” It was impressive. It was unlike anything I had seen before. It showed a hell of a lot of brains. They supposedly built the program themselves, where it combined A.I. with web scraping, news site aggregation and so much more.

I’m not sure if it was because I wanted to have sex with Tim or if I liked the friendship of the group, but I found myself going to their meetings. Not just going, but helping them analyze data, take notes and whatnot. It was exciting as they were all so hopeful. They all believed the same. That together they would one day find The Devil, to which there would be a way to rid him from the world.

“Why?” I ask the mysterious man across from me, and I don’t even know what I mean by this. Why is he here? Why does he exist? Why am I doing this? Why hasn’t he killed me? Why?

“I do not believe that is the question you really want to ask me, now is it?” The Devil says with a friendly, non-threatening smile. To this, I don’t respond.

“Oh, Little Bird, I understand,” The Devil says in a comforting manner when I don’t say anything. His eyes get softer and he appears more like a father comforting his hurt daughter than anything else. There’s no aggression nor anger from him. And for sure no forked tail.

“You took a leap off of a building, thinking it was still the ground, but now as you fall from the Empire State Building, you understand you have made a mistake, and are in over your head,” he explains in a not unkind manner. Seemingly to say he understands why I’m acting so weird.

“You…you can read…” I try to say, more to myself than to him but my mouth is drier than the hottest desert. All the tidbits the group has told me about him come back to me now. All the things I thought were bullshit.

“Of course I can read your mind. I am an angel after all. Your thoughts and emotions are broadcasted outward like a blaring radio,” The Devil explains calmly, as if this isn’t a big deal at all. That the knowledge there’s no way for me to hide anything from him isn’t a big deal. That he probably knows what I’m planning to do days before I think it.

I get a bit dizzy now as this is too much too take. If this is real, and I’m not saying it is, then it doesn’t make sense. If he knows we are here to capture and take him out, why is he calmly talking to me? Why would he get rid of us, knowing what we want?

“Then…why…why haven’t you…” I try to ask, then take my glass of champaign and down the rest of it. As I drink, everything goes fuzzy for a moment, like my mind can’t handle this.

If this is real, if HE is real, then why hasn’t he killed me? Why hasn’t he killed all of us if he knows we are here to get him? He must have known from the moment we entered why we are here.

After I finish my glass, I slowly go to put it down. When I do, I notice that his glass of champaign is now in front of me, clear across the table. This small surprise makes me pause, but mainly because I didn’t see nor hear him move it. Didn’t he say he’s not a physical being? Then how did it move?

“Why would I want to hurt you?” The Devil asks and then laughs as if this is a truly hilarious thought. What’s even stranger is that the laughter is real.

Staring at him, I open my mouth to say my response, but then stop as I recognize something. If he can read my mind, he already knows what I’m thinking. That means he’s being polite to let me verbalize my thoughts instead of just answering straight away. It’s almost like this is a game for him.

“You’re the Devil. That’s what you do,” I tell him more forceful than I mean to be, feeling almost like I’m falling into a trance of some sort.

He’s the Devil after all. Making deals, taking souls, causing pain and heartache. That’s all that he does. It’s his job.

“No, that is what YOU say that I do,” The stranger replies, a bit hurt. To this I tilt my head to let him know I think he’s full of shit.

“I have not once ever killed a single human,” He informs me as serious as a heart attack. His dark brown eyes begin to bore into mine as he says this, where I can tell he wants me to understand this more than anything. That he wants me to know he’s saying the truth.

“You are so quick to forget that I am not a physical being, my beautiful friend, I am just a projection. A flash of light. A non-physical presence created to be a servant for the Lord. All I am, or was, is a messenger of God, much like Fed-Ex, to exist as only a spirit,” the man explains with a smile, as if this is funny to him.

“Sure, I possess a few…let’s call them gifts, such as I can make myself appear how I want, but it does not change the fact that a new born baby has more power in this world than I do to physically hurt anyone,” The Devil finishes in that silky-smooth tone.

“That’s not the only thing that you-” I start, but The Devil quickly leans forward and holds a finger up as if to politely say, “may I finish?”

“I have, on occasion, talked select people into doing acts that I would like them to do,” The Devil explains, but says it as if it’s not that big of a deal. That it’s a minor aspect that I don’t need to worry about. That it isn’t even his fault.

“You could have had us thrown out the moment we arrived,” I say, and it doesn’t come out as a question but a statement. I’m sure that he could have told the owner to remove us, and we would be kicked out by security at once. The fact that he didn’t means he wants us here.

“Of course,” The Devil answers, looking a bit confused by this. He acts as if he’s surprised I’ve just learned that two plus two equals four.

“Why? You know they are after you, yet you letting them stay?” I state, actually pointing off to the side where Tim went.

At this The Devil gets a wide, happy smile. The sort of smile you get when your crush tells you they love you. A smile that is meant to warm the heart and fill the soul. Yet on him, there is something vaguely sinister about it.

“Because you said, ‘let them stay’ and ‘not let us stay.’ You are not truly with them, are you, Jennifer?” The Devil asks, continuing to smile that smile that I think I’m getting attracted to. It’s becoming the sort of smooth and classy smile that would make me want to jump his bones here and now.

“I understand. I understand,” The Devil states, both hands out in a comforting motion. He says this before I’m able to say a response to his statement, making it again that he knows what I was about to say. That I was going to tell him he’s wrong. That I am with them. Now more than ever.

“Allow me to give you a bit of deity-truth, Jennifer. I doubt your…friends…would understand this, but I have faith you will,” The Devil says, waving off Tim and Tommy as if they were flies.

“Truth is the most powerful energy, weapon, whatever you want to call it, in the universe. Entire civilizations have crumbled because of the truth. The strongest or toughest people in the world could be brought down easier than ice in the sun by the truth,” The Devil explains very seriously.

“Humans are so quick to lie, especially to themselves, which muddies the power of truth. One lie becomes two, then you are having to lie to cover up your other lies, till it reaches a point you are unable to remember what you first lied about. The once powerful weapon of truth you held like an atom bomb has become as worthless as a used and torn paper plate,” He explains.

“I…I…I don’t,” I start to say, not understanding what he means. I can tell he’s trying to tell me something important, but I just don’t get it. He’s basically saying not to lie, and that has power?

“You wish to lie to yourself, and to me, and say that you are indeed with those two amoebas roaming about like Roombas with no sensors. You lie and say you are the same as them. That you belong to the cause or whatever garbage you try and tell yourself,” The Devil states more bluntly than before. Those words for some reason hit hard, cutting horribly even if the way he says them is meant to sound actually kind.

“Pardon the use of this very old saying, but you may be able to lie to yourself, but not to me,” The Devil says, his eyes looking deeper than any pair of eyes I’ve ever seen. The sort of deep where I bet I could drown in them. For the first time I feel almost like I understand why some people would worship him.

“I see the real you, not the you that you lie to be,” The Devil states, giving me a soft smile as if to say, “you can trust me.” These words hit even harder, almost like being punched in the gut. It makes me feel beyond vulnerable, like a strong gust of wind could blow me away. It makes me feel for the first time in my life, real fear.

Deep inside me, I feel a conflict surging. Where it feels like I’ve been pretending to be who I am for far too long. That there is a real me that I’ve kept down. That I’ve been acting like someone else for such stupid reasons. But what is scary about that, is that I’m not sure who I am then. I don’t even know who I am, even at my age.

“It never felt like you thought it would feel, did it?” The Devil asks seriously after several long moments. His words bring me back to my situation, where I understand I’m in the midst of this art gallery.

When I look back at the well dressed and handsome man, I notice that there are another glass of champaign in front of me. If he had another server bring them, I didn’t notice. Then again, at this moment a submarine could zoom by in front of me and I may not fully notice.

Not questioning why the booze is here or asking what he means, I take the glass and down it. It’s the fastest I’ve ever drunk champaign as I down it as if it was a shot.

“I…I don’t think it wise to be talking to you,” I tell my new friend, knowing with all common sense that he’s dangerous. That he is the literal Devil. The leader of Hell. The taker of souls. Listening to him leads to only pain. That all that he is telling me is most likely a trick.

“I agree!” The Devils says brightly, showing he agrees with my statement one hundred percent. As he says this, those brown eyes of his light up, making it seem like he’s proud of me for figuring this out.

“If you were smart, you would get up, turn around, walk out of here and never talk to any of your clown-friends again, nor myself,” The Devil suggests brightly. This time I get the feeling of a father giving advice to their child in how he talks to me. That he believes without a shadow of a doubt that this is the only way I’ll be safe.

Oddly enough, I can’t help but feel he’s right. If I did just that, I’ll be fine. Sure, I may go mad knowing what I know, that the Devil is real, but nothing more would happen than that. That I would survive after becoming an alcoholic or madman for a while. I would, one day, be my normal self or at least something close to it. Safe and alive in my own world, where I don’t have chase any sort of supernatural figures.

There’s only one thing that stops me from doing just that, of walking out of here with my middle fingers raised, and that’s the feeling that I don’t know who I am. The feeling that I’ve been lying to myself and pretending to be someone I thought I wanted to be. But with the lights on and forced to examine myself, I see that I have clue about anything about myself.

The feeling of not knowing who I am leads me to a question that I think I really should know the answer to, but don’t. And that question is, “What do I want?”

What do I want? What makes me happy? What do I want out of my life? These are questions that I should be able to answer without even thinking. Yet if you held a gun to my face, I still couldn’t tell you a real answer. Sure, I could answer with a BS answer like, ‘I just want to be happy’ but that’s garbage. I want an answer that is real. Something that is tangible.

Unable to help myself, I repeat what The Devil was saying as I look around the gallery. I look for the truth in what I’m seeing, and not what I want to see. In a way, it feels like seeing for the first time. Like I got my first pair of glasses ever and can see the world clearly instead of my normal blurred state.

The gallery is far busier than when I first arrived. All over there are well dressed people laughing and talking, looking like they are having a great time. Each one seems free and happy, like there is nothing holding them back from life. That they all know exactly who they are.

In a way, as it feels like they are on a different dimension than I am. Like they can’t hear the conversation I am having or even see us. That we are in some special location were we are both alone and within the crowd. Hidden in plain sight, like I have been most of my life.

“Well Miss Jennifer, I could play this most human of games and lead you to finding the truth on your own, but time is something that is valuable to me, when it needs to be,” The Devil says, cutting through the fog of my own thoughts. Turning to look at him again, he is now standing, looking even more incredibly handsome than before. Like when you find that the good looking piece of ass isn’t just good looking but smart.

“Allow me to state the truth that we both know,” He says to me while checking his suit. The way he says this makes it seem like he’s about to leave. That he has other things to do.

Something about this makes my heart drop. It almost makes me panic. I may not know much, but I do know I want is for him to stay. I want to talk to him more. To listen to him. To just be in his presence and stare at him. It feels almost like a drug I’m abut to have to go cold turkey on.

“You are not going to walk out that door and ignore the last several months as you should Jennifer,” The Devil states. Again showing just how horribly inept I am at this world, I just now notice how he’s been using my name even if I never once told it to him. It again serves to make me feel so small and tiny compared to him.

He says this in

“Sure, you might walk away and disappear from your friends for a month or two, but you would go back,” he continues in that confident but not unkind manner. Like explaining to a kid why you are going to win a chess match in two more moves.

“You will explain away your disappearance, telling them it was because you met me, the real me, and it freaked you out. That you needed time to come to terms with what you now know. This of course would be a lie. All of it would be a lie,” The Devil states, almost making it feel like he would be ashamed of me if I did this.

“You would continue to lie to yourself saying you returned to the Looney Bin Brigade because you understand how dangerous I am, that I must be stopped,” he keeps on going, his voice drawing me in more and more. Like listening to a great narrator, I find myself falling into him, where I can actually see all of this happening in my head. That’s what makes it so maddening. I can so easily visualize it.

“Your lies would grow and grow, like a plant nested in the sun with rich dirt and water. They would grow until you can almost convince yourself that they are the truth. Yet despite how you will try and try, you would always know, deep inside, your actions have nothing to do with me,” The Devil explains and a single tear comes flooding down my cheek.

Even if none of this has happened, I feel so ashamed of myself. It does sound exactly like me. That I would try and forget about all of them, The Devil, Tim, the cult, all of it, but I would be back. I would be back because instead of admitting what I really want, I would tell myself a lie of what I think I want. That the cult should take me back because catching The Devil is my only goal, even if that’s a lie. That it’s not what I truly want.

“I see the Truth inside you power Jennifer. Question now is if you are brave enough to admit that truth. You never know, you might just end up getting what you want,” The Devil says, his voice dripping with silk and confidence.

The urge to start sobbing comes over me, but I somehow hold it together. Like a dam overflowing with too much water, my emotions and thoughts bubble over, leaving me with the feeling of being unchained. Where so much that I’ve held back is unleashed that I can’t get a handle on any of it.

“Well Jennifer, there are other matters I must attend to,” The Devil then tells me, signaling that yes, he is about to leave. And again, there is nothing I want less. The urge to fall to my knees and beg him to stay does come over me, but this is something I am able to resist. I may not know much, but I know I’m better than that. That I would never be that pathetic.

“L-Like what?” I ask, my face wet with tears. These words come out without any real thought. Just a curious comment about what matters could The Devil need to attend to? Meeting with The Pope? Convincing countries to unleash Nuclear War?

“Oh, appearing as a bright red demon with horns and a tail for a little boy trying to sleep. Only trouble is, I do hate hiding in closets, and under beds, oh, those tight spaces are hard on my back,” The Devil answers, clearly trying to be funny. I don’t even crack a smile to this as I feel another tear falling.

I know I’m not the smartest girl on the planet, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I can see that this is some Gaslighting plan by him. That he’s leaving me conflicted and unsure. For what purpose I don’t know. Could be he loves to fuck with people, or maybe he is worried the cult will be able to stop him. But, to be honest, it doesn’t really matter.

As I feel all the conflict swirling inside me, I start answering questions I have honestly. Instead of going back and forth on answers, I answer with blunt honestly. In a way, it feels like life is too short not to be honest. Or to put in HIS way, life is too short not to deal with the truth.

And the truth is, I never wanted to be part of this cult. That’s what it is, a freaking cult. Even if all that they said is true, they are still a cult. People give money and time to them blindlessly and get brainwashed that we are soldiers on a mission. I’ve been apart of a cult. Me. The girl that used to laugh at people like that.

Going after The Devil is something that would seem like a goal of mine, but it isn’t. What the cult are after, has nothing to do with what I want. I never wanted anything they did. Not a single fucking thing.

So what is my truth? Why would I spend months belonging to a cult? Was it for friends and to feel wanted? No. I can get those things by joining a book club.

Truth is that I wanted Tim. From the first day I saw him, I wanted him. Big, strong, rigid and sexy Tim. Tim, who if he was a tool wouldn’t be anything fancy like a laser-guided level that can tell the temperature, but a simple, dumb, blunt hammer.

Oh, I want him so bad. And I don’t mean in a husband and wife, let me prepare dinner for you everyday sort of way. I want him carnally. Where he loses control and can’t stop himself when he makes love to me. Hell, I wouldn’t even call what I want making love. I want him to fuck me like an animal. For him to take me so damn hard that it could send me to the hospital. That’s what I want. That’s what I’ve always wanted.

I want Tim. For him to grab me, hold me down and fuck me as hard as he wants. Where he unleashes all of those muscles and anger into fucking me. That we have the sort of sex that I’m not even sure I would survive with the choking and holding. The sort of sex that for at least once I could say that I was properly satisfied and happy. The sort of sex that they show in the movies where the people smoke a cigarette after.

Sniffling as I find more tears have been rolling down my cheeks, I come back to my surroundings. For a moment I disappeared into myself, finding that my own truth is very deep and that you can fall into it.

The first thing I notice is the only thing that doesn’t surprise me; the handsome stranger is gone. Didn’t hear him move, nor did I see him walk away, but that’s not surprising. I don’t bother to turn and look for him as I know he’s no longer at this party. Don’t know where he went, or if he just disappeared or not, but I find it doubtful he will ever show himself to me again.

Downing yet another glass of champagne, I feel so very different. It’s not because I’ve had, what, four glasses of booze. Hell, I don’t even feel the affects of the drinks. No, I feel different because I can feel myself changing. Because I now vow to never lie to myself again. That my own truth needs to be what guides me, not fear, empathy or anything else.

A new emotion begins inside me now, anger. I feel mad at myself for putting so much time into all this, for no reason. I see now I was trying to be someone that Tim would want, joining his club, pretending to be interested in the missions and blah, blah. But he’s never going to come after me like that. If I am being truthful, he’s far too stupid to notice that I want him. Oh, he has the body of a god, but the brains of a flea. He’s too stupid to see anything beyond “the mission.” And so, like a lovelorn schoolgirl, I’ve pined for him knowing he would never return my affections.

“I’ve had no sight of the target, have you?” A familiar voice asks me. That voice seems to come from far away and zooms forward, like a plane diving in to drop off a bomb.

Turning my head, I see Tim. Still dressed in his “fancy clothes,” he looks around the room like a terminator, convinced that his laser sight will lock on to his enemy. And like always, he has that stern and intense expression that a hammer and chisel couldn’t break. Where anything in the room can be considered a threat.

Tim and his muscular body walks up to me, where he stands at my side. For the briefest of moments I feel like reaching over and grabbing his ass. To finally take a handful of it to know how it feels. To know it is as rock hard as I think it is. Where those hips could piston like a car’s engine.

“Tom has reported no sighting,” Tim states and I notice he didn’t even wait for me to answer him. He just keeps going, assuming that I found nothing. Makes me wonder if he would even believe me if I told him who I was just talking to.

“Tim,” I state, the word coming out not as a question nor a statement but something in the middle. I also hear how upset I sound when I say it. Like his name is just a tiny bit better than saying a curse word. As I say his name, I turn to face him fully, my head looking up as he is so much taller than I am. Where I can see his massive, broad chest.

“It might be time to take this to level two,” Tim continues as he sees and thinks of nothing but the mission. He continues to look all around, his body ready at any time to be called into action.

“TIM!” I shout, causing most of the people nearby to go quiet and look at us. Only now do I get Tim’s attention fully. Now when he looks at me, he no longer has that look of intense investigation, but a free look of utter confusion.

“I want you to fuck me,” I tell Tim as clear as I can be, not caring at all that others are watching and listening. I don’t care. I don’t care about anyone else in this entire world at the moment. I care about my own truth and getting what I’ve been after all these months.

“I’m sorry, what?” Tim asks, talking much softer and leaning in, clearly embarrassed at the situation. I am very happy to see that his expression stays changed from the good soldier to a human being. That his thoughts are now no longer on his precious mission.

“I want you to fuck me. That’s all I ever wanted. From the first time I saw you. And I know this is blunt and crude, but if that is not something you want, you need to tell me, now,” I state, not meaning for it to come out like a ransom but not caring that it does. I am being honest with him for the first time, and now I am demanding he be honest with me.

Tim stands there, mouth open as he looks down at me. Tim has never been a good talker or thinker, but now it would he’s lost the few brain cells he had because he doesn’t say anything. Instead he makes odd sounds, like he can only say the briefest of syllables of the words he wants to say. If someone was just listening to him, they would most likely think he’s choking on something.

“Allow me to put it in another manner,” I tell Tim, knowing he’ll never be able to answer me. The embarrassment, the change of plans, the nature of what I want, it’s too much for him to put into words. So allow me to make his decision a hell of a lot simpler.

“I am leaving and will be going to the alley behind this gallery. If you want to fuck me, you know where I’ll be,” I tell him, being very forthcoming and blunt. This way it is a simple choice. Either come to the alley or not. Which is a choice that can’t be any simpler.

With that statement, I turn around and begin to walk away from Tim. Except this time as I walk, I feel the sexy way my hips sway. I can feel the shape of my body, especially the way my breasts bounce just a tiny bit to catch people’s eye. For the first time in a very long time, I feel beyond sexy to the point I bet a lot of these rich assholes would pay dearly to be able to see me naked. I finally feel desirable.

Upon exiting the gallery’s metal door, I’m hit with the cool night air. Standing on the empty street corner, I muse how I thought when I got outside, the night air would knock some sense into me. That I would realize that I’m being a total slut and run away. That I would want to go home, in which I would apologize to Tim tomorrow. But no. In fact, I can feel that I’m even hornier now.

Feeling not like myself while feeling more like myself than ever, I turn and head towards the dark and dirty looking alley next to the gallery. Without even checking to see if anyone is inside, I march into it with my head held high. The way I feel at the moment is that an army of ninjas could attack me and lose.

There I walk a little into the alley, where there is a somewhat empty space. All over the small space are trash cans, boxes, thrown paintings and random junk that appears to be dumped here and forgotten about. But thankfully, no people.

I stand with my back pressed against an empty space on a brick wall, looking forward. I stand here, heart pounding, wondering if Tim is going to show up. Knowing him, he could very well say that the mission is more important and forget about me. That he would deal with me later, to which he would give a lecture about how disappointed he is in me. Little does he know that’ll never happen because he would never see me again.

It only takes about half a minute before I hear the heavy metal gallery door open. Right after, I hear footsteps. Footsteps that go right into this alley. On purpose I don’t look at the alley opening but straight ahead, where I know I’m in something of a sexual pose. So I can’t see who this person is, or if it is even Tim.

“Jen, what’s gotten into you? Did you talk to-” I hear Tim start to say as he enters the alley and walks towards me. But before he can finish I turn to face him, where I slap him. I open hand slap him right across the face, hard as I can.

My hand makes solid contact with Tim’s face, but the big brute barely even registers the hit. There’s no flinching or jerking at all, just the fact that it has made him stop talking. He continues to look down at me in surprise, like he’s never seen me before. In a way it makes him look really cute.

“If you are to fuck me, then fuck me. If not, get the hell out of my sight,” I tell him sternly, my eyes boring into his. I do this to let him know there is no talking now. No talking, no reasoning, no mission, no nothing.

I watch as a flicker of rage turns into an inferno behind his eyes. Like so many men, when he doesn’t understand something, he gets mad. Like the problem will go away if you pound away at it instead of facing it head on. I guess in a way that is true for this problem.

Tim’s muscular arms reach out and grab me by the shoulders where he pushes me back until I’m against the wall. There he holds me in his grip as if I’m something he’s here to fight. Already I feel how strong he is as he presses my body against the wall like he’s trying to make me merge into it.

“What has-” Tim starts again, clearly upset. But I’m able to get my right arm up even if he’s holding me. There I slap him again before as I’m so tired of his words. Tired of talk. Tired of waiting.

“Either fuck me or leave,” I tell him, unable to make this any simpler. Unlike all the other times I’ve talked to him, I don’t look away or pretend to be timid or shy. This time my burning eyes bore into his, showing that now I’m the one in charge.

Tim seems to explode. His body somehow seems to get even bigger as he steps close to me, looking like he is about to do some military-mma move on me. Only instead he leans over and kisses me. He presses his face against mine, where his lips make contact with mine, where I feel how soft they are as he mashes them against my face. He presses hard against me, real hard, just as I want, to which I press just as hard back.

My hands break out of his grasp where I grab the back of his head to force him to kiss even harder. Feeling this, he responds, kissing me so hard that it feels like my skull might be cracking.

With this opening, my hands now travel from the back of his head down, where I want to feel all that I’ve wanted. One hand moves around to feel his muscular back and shoulder while the other goes to what I’ve always wanted to feel; that very firm ass. There I grab a handful of his ass on the outside of his slacks, creaming on the inside as it feels even more firm than I would have believed. An ass that feels like it is made out of rock.

Tim grabs me again with his movements feeling wild and unhinged. His hands grab me around my waist where he lifts me as easy one of his barbells in a workout. I’m lifted up off my feet where my legs immediately wrap around his waist while his own arms move underneath mine to keep me in place as I’m pinned against the wall.

Literally growling like an animal, Tim grabs the front my gown with his right hand. His hand grabs a handful, where he bunches the fabric into his massive fist. And then he yanks.

The fabric of my dress is no match for his strength as he doesn’t just break the straps, but rips the entire front of my dress. The brief sound of tearing fabric is heard but only for a moment as the straps, neckline and even sides of the expensive dress are turned to rags.

Moaning like a whore, I feel the cool night air move over my bare breasts as I’m exposed. With the front of my torn dress falling over, both breasts are fully exposed as I wasn’t wearing a bra. And in Tim’s eyes, I see the hunger he has at the sight of them. Where he takes in what he is seeing, my large tits, and shows he wants them. That he needs them.

Tim’s hands move down where it is his turn to grab my ass. He grabs hold of my ass with both hands where he easily lifts my entire body upward. When he does this, my entire body moves up the wall where I feel my back being scratched by the brick and don’t care.

Being beyond aggressive, Tim lifts me so that my breasts are now face-level with him. Where my D cup tits are in his reach to do with as he pleases. Where my nipples are harder than diamond and I moan just at the feeling of him seeing them exposed.

Tim’s head moves forward and takes my right nipple in his mouth. His large mouth latches onto my sensitive breast and sucks at it without mercy. He sucks on it hard, like he is trying to pull all of my breast into his mouth. The feeling of it is so intense and hungry that I can’t help but moan. Moan loud.

Unable to stop myself, I use my hands to grab my breasts and push them together into his face. In a rather crude move, I know I’m presenting my tits for him to suck and grope. And my breasts want it so bad as I feel how insanely hard my nipples are.

Tim eagerly accepts and switches to my left breast, allowing his mouth to engross my nipple. On this breast he not only sucks on the nipple hard, but I feel him bite down some as his tongue flicks over it hard. The feeling of it is something I’ve never felt before, where the pleasure off it makes my entire body feel like it turns to goo. Now my moans have gotten so loud I’m sure whomever is in the building behind us can hear.

Still presenting my tits to him, Tim starts to suck, lick and kiss every inch of them as he moves his face all about hem. As he does this, I feel his right hand move upward on my back some. It shows his strength as though I am helping with my legs wrapped around him, he is now only using a single hand to hold me.

Moaning as he gets even more aggressive with my tits as he damn near mauls them, my body has never felt so incredibly hot. The way he makes me feel is making my back arch and my womanhood tingle like never before. I’ve become so aroused I can literally feel myself leaking as I’ve not ever been this wet before. It’s such an intense feeling, especially as I dig my nails into him and he doesn’t seem to notice as he’s so lost in his own sexual trance like myself.

An even louder moan comes out of me as Tim rips my panties off. Just grabs the back of my red silk panties and pulls, easily tearing the fabric like he did my dress. Feeling them get ripped off hurts a great deal, but it is such a wonderful and pleasurable hurt. One that I wouldn’t mind feeling every hour of every day.

With a growl Tim brings his hand up where I see my torn panties in his balled fist. Then with an angry grunt, he tosses him hard to the side where he immediately grabs the bottom of my dress. Pulling, yanking and tearing, he lifts my dress up so eager and demanding access to my womanhood. As he does this, I feel the way my hips rock and sway, where I think I may cum just from having my womanhood exposed inside this alley.

My own hands drift now as it is my turn to take what I want. There both of my hands move to the front of his pants, where I grab at his belt. Furiously I undo his belt and yank it completely off, tossing it to the side like he did my panties. Then my hands find the button on his slacks, where I can’t seem to undo it. Taking a page out of his book, I pull in different directions at the fold, making the button pop right off, to which I quickly unzip him.

“I want that cock,” I hiss in his ear, feeling intensely like a slut as I’ve never wanted cock more than I do now. Where I want to see it, feel it even worship it if I must. It’s this that feeling courses through me as I tug down his slacks and underwear.

I pull and pull till finally, his very hard cock springs out. There my hands move to it, wanting, no, needing to feel it. To feel what I’ve wanted for so damn long. To the thing that it feels like I need.

The moment I make skin to skin contact with it, I moan, even if it is only my hands touching it. He’s so…large. Much larger than I thought he would be. Not to mention hard. His cock feels like steel in my hands, harder than any cock I’ve ever felt before. If it wasn’t for how warm it feels, I might think it was some sort of sex shop toy.

My hand runs the length of his shaft, and then back up, letting my fingertips trail over him. I repeat this a few more times where I take in all of his sex. Then, smiling I grip him firmly in my hand, taking control of that massive cock. There I begin to stroke him, where Tim moans in pleasure, driving me wild.

With Tim moaning louder, I start to stroke faster and harder, where that cock gets even harder. Faster I go, my fingers on my left hand starting to rub at the bottom of his cock head, which gets an immediate reaction of him shuddering in pleasure. Going into my own sexual trance at being able to make him feel this way, I actually try to move down, where I want that cock in my mouth.

But Tim isn’t having any of it. He lifts me again while I keep my legs are still wrapped around him. Then, holding me with one hand again, he uses his other hand to position his cock at my entrance. I feel that huge cock rubbing between my legs as he slowly lifts me to get it in exact position.

The moment I feel the head of his massive cock part my pussy lips, I swear I orgasm. It’s a very brief and weak orgasm, but one all the same. Like the anticipation of feeling it is finally solved, allowing that pleasure to be released. Where for the shortest of moments, I feel the waves of an orgasm move over me, promising me the things I’m about to feel once he gets started.

I feel his cock as it spreads my lips, where I expect him to slowly guide himself in, but that’s not what he does. Instead he thrusts a single hard thrust, plowing into me with such force that I actually bounce off of him. My entire body bounces off his hips as I cry out a pained moan of pleasure while my tits actually bounce.

For a moment it feels like the world stops. That everything goes silent and time doesn’t move. Where my eyes are frozen in their wide position as I feel the way his hard member pushes my insides apart in every direction. Where it fills like one of those dragon-toys that are supersized have been shoved into me.

Never before has any cock filled me like his. Where I swear that my pussy is being stretched out like a balloon at the sheer size of him. I can’t even moan as I’m so overwhelmed from what I’m feeling. The amount of sexual pleasure that flows from this makes me feel like a puddle of goo without any muscles.

Then Tim starts to fuck me.

Tim grabs hold of me, one arm wrapped around my upper body while the other is wrapped around my lower body. As he holds me like this, I squeeze my legs against him, feeling his rock hard body as I stay wrapped against him.

There is no tenderness or love in the way he holds me. In fact, he holds me as if this is a fight, where I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. Where all of his might and muscle is used to hold me in place, like he was a rapist about to take his prey.

Tim thrusts his hips into me while pushing my body down each time he does it. His thrusts contains all of his rage, confusion and strength as it feels like I’m being impaled by his cock in the best possible way. It makes me damn near scream in pleasure with each thrust as it is so hard and primal.

Each thrust sounds a violent grunt from Tim and a high pitch squeal of pleasure from me. It feels like Tim is getting out years’ worth of therapy as he fucks all his frustrations out on me. It is so rough that there’s no clapping sound between our bodies as we come together, but thud sounds as he rams against me, his cock rubbing against my insides in the best possible way.

“Take it! Take it! Take it!” Tim grunts with each thrust, pounding his dick in me to the point that I bet the building we are next to is trembling. The way he holds me in place so tight that I’ll have bruises makes this a hundred times more intense. It feels sort of like he’s saying without words “you want to be fucked? I’ll fuck you then!”

Moan after moan comes out of me as I’ve never felt such pleasure. Even when I’ve been high it never felt this good or intense. It’s to the point that this feels like a dream as no one could ever feel such pleasure. No one could ever unleash such animalistic fury as they pound away as if hatefucking me. Oh, how I’ve never been fucked this good.

It doesn’t take long before I can feel my pussy becoming sore. His cock is so large and my pussy so sensitive that the intense but brief session has already worn me out. I mean, I can feel every tiny thing about his cock. From each ridge and bump, to the way it doesn’t curve at all. But most of all, I feel how he how it goes deeper than anyone else ever has inside me. Each thrust is feels like it goes deeper to the point it may be popping out of my mouth soon.

My high pitched moans and squeals start to change into something that barely sounds human. Where they are just sounds of pure pleasure that some wild creature makes. Then I find out why I sound like this as the orgasm that I felt building deep inside me is unleashed

Like a building exploding, my orgasm rips through me, causing me to truly go into overload. My vision goes white as my eyes roll back from the intense pleasure and my back arches so much that Tim has trouble holding me. Wave after rippling wave moves over me, bringing joy, happiness and immerse pleasure with it. Each wave is so powerful that it feels like my body, bones and all are rippling with the waves like a bad supernatural effect in a movie.

“I’M CUMMING!” I scream to the world, finding that this feels very much like the first time for me. The first time to truly have an orgasm. A real orgasm.

Tim continues to manhandle my body as he hasn’t slowed down at all. In fact, the moment I start to cum feels like he goes even harder. His massive arms keep me in the same sort of hold where he thrusts nonstop, making my orgasm feel like it’ll never end. It causes me to scream my moans as I no longer have any control over my body at all, just like I have no control over the beautiful pleasure I feel.

“Take it. Take all of it!” Tim growls just as loud as I am, and then shoves his cock inside me and holds it. He thrusts a single intense thrust where my entire body rests solely on his cock, much like I’ve been shoved on the end of a pole.

Impaled on that beautiful, huge cock, I feel my orgasm become renewed as I feel Tim cum inside me. I stare wide eyed at nothing as he lets go completely, his cock pumping my womb full of his seed. Over and over his cock seems to literally shoot cum out forcefully, making it go so deep in me. It feels like it goes so deep that I can taste it in the back of my mouth.

I let out an elongated moan at the feeling of his warm seed inside me, causing my body to jerk as my own orgasm finally starts to fade. Feeling like I’m on the peak of a mountain, I move over to go down, finally able to come down from the highest of highs, where even now, I feel no control of my body from the overwhelming emotions I feel.

Tim makes a strange grunt which sounds very out of place as it’s not sexual or even pleasurable. It sounds extreme but not in a good way. Almost like he got the surprise of surprises.

I try to ask if he’s ok, but the way my heart is pounding and my body feels overloaded, no words come out. Not to mention how he still holds me tight in his arms, making it feel like I’m in a vise. Not that I mind, for even now as my orgasm has passed, him holding me so fiercely makes the lingering trails of my orgasm refuse to leave.

Enjoying the last feelings of my orgasm, I find there’s a strange taste in my mouth for some reason. The kiss was long ago, yet I taste something very metallic. That’s when my tongue feels about to see that there’s something in my mouth, some sort of liquid.

Confused, I bring my hand to my mouth as Tim still holds me against the wall where my back must be scratched to hell from the brick. After sticking my finger in my mouth, I look at it to see what it could be. I’m then dumbfounded as I see what it is; blood.

“What the…” I say, not understanding what’s going on. Sure, the kiss we had was intense and probably enough to spilt a lip, but there’s far too much blood in my mouth. The amount reaches the point where I have to turn and spit it out. Far more that a shot glass worth.

“T-Tim,” I try to croak out, thinking that I must have internal injuries. That being fucked so hard truly has broken me. But when I talk, more blood comes out, like there’s an uncontrollably flow of it. That’s when I see that there’s blood all over Tim’s back. It’s damn near coated in it.

Then I see the stick. Wait, not a stick, but a rebar. One of those long iron bar used in construction. I saw a pile of them earlier, next to the dumpster. But this one is sticking out the middle of Tim’s back.

With my mind coming back out of the sexual trance, I see the placement of the rebar in Tim, and start to feel a strange coldness in that area on my own body. It’s sticking out of the middle of Tim’s back, right at the spine, where it would be right above my stomach.

I try to push Tim back, only to find that I can’t. He’s still holding me, but there’s no strength in it, but that’s not what is holding me back. It feels like something is stuck and no matter how much I push on him, I can’t get it unstuck. But I do feel how my own body is starting to turn ice cold which feels so incredibly different.