Feature Writer: Tempest Wolfsong
Feature Title: I LOVE LUCI 1
Published: 10.04.2019
Story Codes: Erotic Horror
Synopsis: Accidentally summoning the Devil may be the best mistake ever.
I Love Luci 1
Chapter One: Deal With The Devil
“Never read aloud from The Necronomicon, the ancient Egyption Book of the Dead, or the men’s bathroom wall,” I muttered as I shifted through the occult section at the used book store.
I was delicately fingering an old leather-bound book and turning the pages with care. It was a book on demonology and looked older than anything I’d ever seen, which seemed ridiculous given the five dollar price tag. I shrugged, thinking if nothing else, it would be a fun coffee table book to freak out my relatives with when they chose to visit. I purchased the manuscript, took it home and set it beside my little at-home altar.
It sat there, forgotten, for days. At some point, one of my cats must have knocked it behind my altar, because it was completely out of sight and out of mind.
One afternoon I was casting, totally nude, the boundaries of my sacred circle extending to the walls of my room, my bed at the circle’s center, my altar to the south, in the direction of fire, passion and desire. As I cast the circle, calling in each element in turn, I turned to face each direction.
“You do know you’re rather quite fetching in absolutely nothing at all, don’t you?”
I turned from having just called in the element of earth in the north, and saw a vaguely familiar looking man holding my newest literary acquisition and leaning on my altar.
“I’m sorry … Tom Ellis?!”
He frowned then looked down at the body he was in and shrugged.
“Is that the actor who plays me? I liked it so much better when it was Viggo. He completely got the dark humor … less camp, more terror. But hey, could be worse! Could be that guy from Supernatural … please! I am far better looking.”
I was glancing from him to my bedroom door, wondering if I could flee.
“Oh, please don’t,” he said dryly.
His image changed to something closer to the comic book version of the character Tom Ellis played on television … pale blond hair, almost white it was so fair, blue eyes and a bit of a curl to his lip. “You truly should know what you’re bringing home before you allow it uncleansed into ritual space, little witch.”
I sat on the end of my bed with a slight thump, gaping.
“I’m sorry … am I to believe you’re …”
“The First Fallen, favored son of the Almighty, undisputed King of Hell, and unlike the late, great James Dean, Rebel with a cause.”
His lips curled further into a charming, if lascivious smile.
“I’m not a monotheist.” It was said dryly, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t terrified. Still, it seemed necessary to state the obvious.
“Really? You don’t say?” He made a gesture to my altar, whereon statues of Herne, Hera, Kali, Buddha, Bast, Buddy Christ and Stan Lee all stood, “Enter why I am not cursing you to Hell and back.”
“… There’s a Hell?”
“And a Hel, single L. Two doors down from Tartarus and due south of Purgatory.”
I think I blinked. That was about all I could manage. I swear, he pouted.
“This isn’t at all as interesting as I thought it would be,” he confided, “I expected the usual ranting and screaming … or a good shunning and exorcism, if nothing else.” He frowned, “I would say you’re disappointing, Ms. Witch, if you weren’t so very fascinating.”
“Um … thank you?” Was that a compliment? It sounded like a compliment … my addled brain muttered on and on to itself. “Well, I’d hate to be boring … so, this was just a mistake then? Because I sure as He-er… HADES… didn’t purposely summon you!” His smile was unsettling but he didn’t answer. “Well, I can break the circle and you can be on your way. No offense, but you’re not really part of my belief system. I mean, it’s not that I don’t believe in you, in theory, but I certainly don’t subscribe to any tenets of your pantheon.”
“And you think that makes you somehow immune?” He tilted his head and regarded me. “You were baptized. Catholic, if I’m not wrong, and I rarely am.”
I felt a chill up my spine.
“Sure, when I was an infant. I chose a different path.”
“Do you think that somehow makes you exempt from my touch?” He seemed genuinely curious. “Sorry. Your parents marked a little piece of your soul to their God, and all His angels and that just to happens to include …me.”
He took the two steps from the altar to me and lifted my face with a finger under my chin.
“Why do you think the earliest Christians would claim that witches were my wives, my slaves, minions and whores?” He winked. “Because you take after my own heart. You rebel. You shake off the yoke and bridal of My Father and you go your own way. You weren’t raised to believe in something other than Him, and you were warned over and over what turning from His light might entail. But you still chose something else. I like that so much about your kind.”
He smiled and stroked my cheek, and I swear those eyes all but blazed the color blue you see at the base of a flame.
“But you cannot break this circle or set me free until we make a deal. A small sacrifice on your part, if nothing else.”
“S-sacrifice?” I shuddered, as images of Black Masses and slain animals flitter sickeningly across my thoughts and he made a face. “I have no interest in dead animals. I far prefer living ones.”
I wanted to ask what he meant, but I couldn’t. I was petrified by fear. My wide, terrified eyes were unable to tear away from those dancing blue depths of his. He gave a slow, knowing smile, and whispered into my ear.
“So, to quote my fictional self … what do you desire?”
I was wet immediately. I couldn’t have explained it if I tried. It was like despite the emergency stop my brain had stalled into, my body was still keenly aware of everything being said and done to it. And it’s aching fed my stalled brain into flickering with images, all more shocking and debaucherous than the last.
His eyes widened and he looked vaguely impressed.
“Ooooh, well aren’t you a shocking delight? I tell you what, little witch. I will leave you be … mostly. What I propose is a deal … you sacrifice your passions to me one night a month, and I will protect you and give you my blessing.”
Something about that seemed fishy.
So, I countered: “No pain.” I said, quoting a line from the first movie I could remember making me wet. “You do not hurt me in any way and instead of any sort of protection, you just leave me and mine alone. No interference for good or ill.”
He pondered for a minute then countered with, “No unwanted or undesired pain. No permanent scars or lasting injury. I get to watch you, but not interfere save on the one night that is mine.”
“Provided that ‘interference’ harms none.” I said firmly.
He rolled his eyes.
“Yes, yes … all of that. Do you consent?”
I couldn’t really see a way out of it, so I nodded.
“Say it.”
The smile was gone from his eyes and his tone suddenly authoritative.
“I consent.”
He had me in his over powering embrace a mere second later. My hair was in his fist, my body pressed to his, my spine painfully bowed. His eyes blazed an almost holy fire into my body, and I felt my will slide from me with the wet smoothness of an eel through the water.
“Good girl,” he purred. “Now, let me see into that delightfully twisted, hedonistic little brain of yours. I want to see it all… the fantasies that make you wet. The ones that make you scream. The ones that shock and surprise you. The ones that make you writhe in humiliation while denying that those dreams also make you cum harder than anything else. Show me … everything.”
It was like an unstoppable slide show in my mind … this mental fingers flipping through the sexual Rolodex of desires in my head.
I felt him pause and slowly smile. And he changed. Where there was a handsome face, there was a lupine muzzle and vicious looking fangs. Where hands held me, I felt claws form. His body writhing, like having a good stretch, but he was stretching into a huge, muscular, furred body. His eyes were still that blue, but in a mask of a black fur that reminded me of a Siberian Husky, as if a common canine could be that massive.
His warm, flat tongue left a warm wet line across my face and his breath fluttered the whisps of hair beside my ear as he breathed …
“Run.”
The adrenaline spike was instantaneous and I jerked free of him and whirled to the only door that let from my large Master suite. I didn’t get two steps before he had me pinned on my back, flung into the bed, his teeth just touching my throat. I shut my eyes tightly as the snarling muzzle moved down my naked form, breathing hot, moist canine pants over my still from.
I could scarcely reconcile I had summoned a demon … sorry, “fallen angel” … and he had chosen out of my list of odd fantasies this one to act upon. Moreover, I think my brain was simply held in this suspended sense of seeing and mindlessly accepting what was happening to it.
I felt like an outside observer to my own body, as if watching suspended above, mind spinning raggedly, yet unable to will my body to voice my conflicting thoughts and feelings as I watched this thing from nightmare and darkest sexual fantasy bend down over my naked body and run tongue and fang over my bare, hardening nipples, causing a shiver and a squeak of fear to pass my lips, as the tight peaks were brushed ever-so-lightly by shining ivory fangs that could easily rend me limb from limb.
I watched my own breath quickened, could hear the beating of my terrified and turned-on heart … could see the wetness on my own inner thighs as he moved down further, the moist breath caressing my unprotected chest and belly; a long, hot, wet tongue teasing the flesh that housed my tenderest, most vulnerable organs. I watched him lick a flat, wet line from my breasts to my mound. He paused then, and drew in my scent deeply, his bright flame-blue eyes never leaving mine from within this dark furred canine face. Eyes that still spoke of intelligence and self-awareness generally only seen in the eyes of a human being, but the fire of inhuman passions, driven by a creature far removed from humanity.
And from my suspended psychological perch, I saw that he desired me… and that arousal was hardly human either, his whole being perfectly, almost genetically, accurately changed. Thus was his tongue that of the great “chrinos” (to use a term from my LARPing days meaning the werewolf half-man/half-wolf or “war form”) creature that stroked over my tense body, holding me pinioned by his will alone, and so too his hands as clawed and dangerous as a wolf’s … and the rest of his form followed suit, leaving me to mentally argue with myself, as I always did when I gave reign to this humiliating fantasy, was it zooiphilia if the mind in the animal’s body is of human intelligence and for all intents and purposes, essentially human? Or was it something else entirely?
The very worry rushed out of my brain as that massive tongue licked the wet pussy lips between my thighs and the image alone made me cum instantly. He didn’t raise his head at all as he made me realize why it was called being “eaten out”, his tongue sinking into my steamy depths. But those eyes … those eyes would raise to mine and, as if he had ordered aloud for me to cum, I did, that merest visual connection causing a spark in my body to flare brilliantly into a mindless, orgasm that left me rolling my eyes and being reduced to tiny, squeaking whimpers under his inhuman tongue.
I was barely cognizant of him moving and grasping my still spasming body to him as he curled me against me, on my side on the bed in the middle of my sacred circle, and slid his cock inside me, the feeling both foreign and insidiously familiar.
Twisting my hair away from the my shoulders, he moved his mouth to the nape of my neck, as one arm moved to cup my breast and tease the nipple with sharp claws, careful to only make me fearful he might cut me, but taking extreme care to ensure it was only a fear, and not ever a reality. His other arm slid unerringly south down the front of my body and gently began to run the pad of his finger over my hardened clit. When his teeth settled in the back of my neck, it was like a switch had been utterly thrown and I couldn’t even contemplate moving. All I could do was feel.
Somehow, I could feel him inside my mind as well as within my body and his mind coaxingly asked …
“Do you often dream this dream, little one?”
I couldn’t lie.
“Yes,” I whispered, my cheeks crimson in shame.
“You dream of being taken by a monster? A beast?”
I contemplated trying to explain my adoration and slight sexual fixation of the story, “Beauty and the Beast”, but thought better if it, instead managing only to again speak the truth.
“Yes.”
I could now hear how wet my body was as he slowly rocked his cock in and out of me. It made me redder in the cheek, but turned me on all the more.
“An animal?”
This was a very vocal growl in my ear and I felt my cunt spasm around him and he pressed harder, more insistently, making my body accept all of him, even the last few inches, which made my body feel like it might split in two for a moment as he sank balls-deep into my pulsating, slick, hot passage. I could barely whimper an affirmative to his inquiry.
“And you wouldn’t stop letting me fuck you even if I became completely a wolf, would you?” He growled into my ear, and began to roll my nipple between his index finger and thumb … and I came instantly. “Tell me!”
He ordered me, as he rocked his body against mine, his shaft filling me so completely, I simply continued to cum on it over and over until his clawed hand flexed over my tender throat as he again growled into my ear.
“Do not try to lie to me; I always know a lie. Always. Would you stop me were I fully lupine? Or would you continue to lie there and allow yourself to be fucked by a wolf?”
His tongue licked the back of my neck and I spasmed once more for him, my back now arching in pleasure as I came again, dizzy with lust, but unable to even consider lying.
“I … I wouldn’t … stop you.”
“What would that make you, then, little one?” He whispered softly into my ear as he put me into a kneeling position, never pulling an inch from my stretched cunt, and I can see the heat in his gaze that assured me these questions weren’t asked to humiliate me — Rather, each honest answer was pushing him closer and closer to the precipice.
I couldn’t explain what happened next, if you asked. All I thought was I am going to make this god-like creature cum. Not because he wants it … because it makes me hot to let him see I enjoy this. Because for some reason, I do turn him on, for all my inequities. Because I am not ashamed, and because I am that powerful in and of myself. And it is this woman that will make this more-than-man respect that I have that power over him.
So, I didn’t just answer his question … I threw away any shred of inhibition and said exactly what was in my mind, aiming for the most graphic of terms with which to describe my desires.
“That would make me a good little bitch, Mr. Wolf … a good little wolf bitch who wants to be fucked, marked and claimed by her Alpha Wolf,” I came as I said the last words. “I want to be bred,” I whispered, in a tiny, almost inaudible voice, as my orgasm made my body writhe and twitch and spasm in utter mindless ecstasy, wailing out yet another wet, gripping pulse of an orgasm around his cock.
I watched as his eyes rolled a little as he thrust as deeply into my body as he could, the tip of his manhood… wolfhood? … pressing into my cervix with each trust. The growl as he came lodged deeply inside me was enough to send me spiraling ever upwards into a long, deep, gripping climax around his monstrous cock, milking every ounce of cum from him as I shook and shuddered beneath him.
I felt his body change around mine, becoming as human appearing as he had initially been, and I felt the soft press of a man’s mouth lightly kiss the crown of my head as he continued to hold me against him while tiny aftershock orgasms made me twitch and shake a bit in his embrace.
“Your honesty …” he said softly, “Your sheer, brazen shamelessness … oh, my little one! I do believe this will be a debt we both will enjoy paying … I think I shall be looking forward to sex with you once a month …”
I decided since honesty had gotten me this far, and I admitted …
“Me, too, Luci.”
I thought for a moment I had angered him by the pet name used by his television alter ego, for he was still and silent for a long moment, but then he laughed aloud, an almost musical and seductive sound in its own right.
He kissed my lips and said in a perfect Humphrey Bogart voice.
“I think this may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship …”
THE END OF CHAPTER ONE