THE PITCH

A beeping signal blaring into her ears forced Lilith Lokisdotter to open her eyes, which blearily focused on some guy on TV delivering a middle of the night spiel. He wore a crimson three-piece suit over a black satin shirt and matching crimson tie, and sported a Van Dyke beard. His hair was slicked back and black as night.

“Hi, there,” he said. “I’m Samael ‘Crazy Sammy’ Azazel. Are you lonely, having trouble finding that special someone? Are you tired of the blandness of the partners selected for you by computer programs devised by buck-toothed geriatric codgers like that guy on eSerenity who could never even find a date for themselves, never mind being able to get it on when that special moment is right, even if they swallowed 20 pounds of Levitra?

“If so, you should come join our family at the Second Circle of Love. Every day, we help thousands of our clients overcome their sexual inhibitions and fulfill their deepest, most depraved desires.

“Experience what true love is meant to be, not the hollow skin-slapping of the selfie generation. Feel what it is like for a human hand to touch your inner being for the very first time. See what it is like to cast off your inhibitions and experience the world as the truly loving place that it is.

“Give your calloused carpal-tunneled hand a rest and throw away that 80 horsepower vibrator. At Second Circle, we offer a variety of therapeutic and psychosexual techniques that are individualized to the needs of each and every one of our clients.

“Frigid? Sexually inhibited? We have a wide range of techniques to teach you to overcome your anxiety and fears, to increase your sexual pleasure, and to fulfill your innermost and darkest desires. These include systematic desensitization, tantric yoga practices, tai chi, immersion therapy, and a plethora of psychotropic drugs to increase your pleasure, decrease your fears, and lop off those pesky extra ten IQ points that keep you from getting it on with anyone and everyone in sight. Join us and experience the true sexual pleasure that is your birthright.

“Have you lost the magic of unbridled pleasure? Does every erotic act you perform feel mechanical and boring? Has your sex life lost its kick? Are you tired of your present partner?

“We at Second Circle will put the spice back into your sex life. We offer many pleasure-enhancing experiences, including: surrogate sexual partners, group sex, bondage and discipline, sadomasochism, homosexual and bisexual partners, transvestites, robots, virtual worlds, fetishes and many other forms of sexual enhancement that decorum (and several state laws) prevent us from listing here.

“Our sadomasochistic equipment is second to none. Our clients and sexual surrogates are carefully screened for sexually-transmitted diseases. Complete psychological and psychiatric screening would of course eliminate most of our client base and for this reason such screening is not performed. After all, we at Second Circle need to eat (something besides pussy, that is). All of our therapists have been fully certified and licensed by the National Association for Eroto-Therapeutics and the Nevada State Boxing Commission. I can personally vouch for their professionalism, as I am the founder and former President of the National Association of Eroto-Therapeutics.

“For clients who have grown fearful or tired of their present partner, we also provide partner minimization and/or erasure services. Return the brutality that your current partner has so thoughtfully bestowed upon you. Our erasure agents are fully-credentialed by the National Rifle Association and have served in this capacity for a variety of organizations, including powerful crime syndicates, drug cartels, private mercenary armies, and security organizations, or who have been trained by such agents using the very latest versions of PowerPoint. We carry out such minimization and eradication efforts with complete discretion. No bodies, security cameras, or ordinance striation marks leading to you will ever be found. You will be provided with complete protection by Wasn’t Me, Inc., your national leader in evidence eradication, cover-ups, alibis, and framing innocent persons for crimes they did not commit for over six decades. Our firm was founded by United States Senator Joseph “Tailgunner Joe” McCarthy in 1953. For over sixty years, we have helped our clients get out of sticky wickets of their own devising. Our former clients include Marina Oswald, Kato Kaelin, and Justin Bieber.

“How much will this cost you? Your first two sessions are absolutely free. If you are not completely satisfied after these introductory sessions, Second Circle will void your membership with no further obligation on your part.

“Should you decide to retain your Second Circle membership, your future costs will be only $40 per one-hour session. Many people ask me, ‘How can you afford such diabolically low rates, Crazy Sammy?’

“Because I’m CRAZY!! That’s why.

“Our customers are completely satisfied. To a person, they say that they would sell their very souls rather than return to their lives before Second Circle.

“Come join us. Our rates are fiendishly low, and you will experience a heavenly joy beyond anything you can imagine.

“Just pick up the phone and call us at 1-666-666-0666. That’s 1-666-666-0666. Our operators are standing by now.

Lilith was now staring at the TV. She checked the channel number and it too was 666. She was pretty sure that basic cable did not come with that channel.

Suddenly, the demonic countenance of Samael “Crazy Sammy” Azabel was abruptly replaced by a calm young man with a shaven head, draped in an orange robe, and sitting in the lotus position.

“Hi there. My name is Siddhartha Gautama, but my friends call me Sid. Crazy Sammy promises you unbridled sexual pleasure and power. However, this comes at a great cost. The more power, pleasure and riches you have, the more you seek. The emptiness inside you will grow as your cravings increase until you are just an empty shell of longing and unfulfilled desire.

“The secret of spiritual perfection is to master your cravings and to find beauty in the world as it is. Even a single dry, cast-off leaf is of immeasurable perfection. To experience spiritual peace and the highest state of consciousness attainable, you must gain mastery over your base urges and eliminate your material cravings altogether.

“So come on down and see us at the Temple of the Golden Pavilion. It’s conveniently located right here in sunny Southern California, your leader in consciousness enhancement. Just take the Pasadena Freeway north to the Slauson cutoff, then cut off your slauson… Just kidding. You don’t have to do a Lorena Bobbitt on yourself to achieve nirvana. We’re located at 77 Sunset Strip, the center of love in all its forms.

“You can’t beat our prices. A few yarrow sticks and a wooden begging bowl are a small price to pay for an eternity of spiritual perfection. Let’s see Crazy Sammy top that.

“So pick up your phone and call me at 1-000-000-0000. Until then, this is Sid Gautama bringing you love, peace, and OHMMMMMMMMMMMMM.”

The image of Sid Gautama was suddenly replaced by a blank blue screen stating that this channel was no longer available. Lilith doubted that it ever was. She rubbed the cobwebs out of her eyes, picked up the telephone and dialed 1-666-666-0666.

INTAKE

Lilith’s hand was trembling as she reached for the door knocker and rapped it against the wood. She heard a chair moving across the floor, followed by the sound of spike heels clacking across a hardwood floor. The formidable dark walnut outer door opened in Young Frankenstein style, and Lilith was confronted with a sleek woman with tremendous hooters, the likes of which Lilith had never laid eyes upon in the 25 years of her admittedly sheltered existence. “What knockers!” she exclaimed, in a blatant plagiarization of Mel Brooks’ fine screenplay.

“Oh, sank you,” said the young temptress, who was wearing a belly shirt and miniskirt. Her legs were lovely, long and tanned, her belly slim and strong. “Zammy, I mean Dr. Azazel, gave zem to me. Just have to ask.”

“Really? They look very natural.”

“Oh, zey are. Zey are not zilicon or anyzing like zat. Zammy can make zem grow quite naturally. He can also give you tight belly, like ziz,” she said, patting her lovely tawny tummy. “No spa!”

“Please come in,” the siren said. “I am Helga. Ze doctor is vaiting for you.”

Helga ushered Lilith into the outer office. The walls, like the door, were dark walnut. There were many framed pictures lining them. One appeared to be a selfie of Dr. Azazel and Jesus, pointing at each other with finger guns and laughing at something hysterical. It was signed, “Thanks for those crazy 40 days in the desert. I will see you on the field. Love, Jesus H. Christ.”

A second picture showed Crazy Sammy with Kali, the Hindu goddess of death and time. Five of Kali’s blue arms were draped over Sammy’s neck and her other five arms were pointing at him. The inscription read, “I can’t believe you knocked me out of the juggling tournament, you sly deceitful bastard. Love forever (or at least until I stop Time, ha, ha), Kali.”

Whatever else you might say about Crazy Sammy Azazel, the guy definitely had a sense of humor. Lilith had to give him that.

“Ze doctor vill zee you now,” Hilda said, as she opened the massive walnut door to the consulting room. Crazy Sammy himself stood before her. He looked a little like Edward G. Robinson, with his dark Vandyke beard and three-piece scarlet suit. He filled the suit nicely, with bulging muscles.

“Ah, Ms. Lokisdotter, please do come into my consulting parlor,” the great doctor said, ushering Lilith in with a flourish of his arm. He closed the door behind them and gestured toward the chair facing his shiny desk, which appeared to be made out of petrified wood.

She took the proffered seat and Dr. Azazel sat down behind the desk. He took out a package of cigarillos from his suit pocket, inserted one between his lips, and lit it without any visible ignition device. Another cheap magic trick, Lilith thought. She looked at the brand as he placed the pack back in his pocket. Brimstone. She was pretty sure she had never heard of that one before.

“You are incorrigible, Dr. Azazel,” she said, laughing at the lengths this guy would go to impersonate the devil. She waived away the smoke with her hand.

“You don’t mind if I smoke,” Crazy Sammy said. It was not a question, and Lilith suddenly found the sulfuric smoke intoxicating. “There is a lot of smoke here at Second Circle, so you had better get used to it.”

Lilith had of course Googled “Second Circle” before making the appointment. She knew that it referred to the second circle of Hell as described in the first book of Dante Alighieri’s 14th-century epic poem The Divine Comedy. It was reserved for those souls who had lived a life of unbridled lust and sexual pleasure.

Lilith knew that she was unlikely to go there in view of her life of self-imposed chastity due to a fear of sexual encounters, even if Crazy Sammy was the devil himself. However, she could not escape the feeling that she had done something wrong, seriously wrong, somewhere in her forgotten past.

The would-be Satan folded his hands over his abdomen. “Well, Ms. Lokisdotter, how can we be of help to you?” he asked.

“Dr. Azazel, I am terrified of sex. As soon as a man touches me, I curl up in fright, and the men run away. It might be because of things my father, my step-father, my next door neighbor, my grandfather and my second cousin once removed did to me. They were so horrible I can’t remember them now. Also there was that satanic cult my mother belonged to, maybe something happened there.

“Oh, Dr. Azabel, I am so lonely. My world is empty. If there were a Hell, I would cast myself into it, just to escape the cold forever.”

Lilith was sobbing now, and Dr. Azazel pushed a handy package of Kleenex in her direction so that she could dry her eyes.

“Well, Lilith, the good news is that we can help you. Here at Second Circle, we help our clients overcome their sexual phobias every day. All you need to do is to sign this contract, and we can start at once.”

He slid the voluminous document across the shiny desktop in her direction. Lilith began to thumb through its 67 pages.

“Gee, there’s a lot of stuff here.”

“Well, you know, lawyers… I don’t think anybody ever reads this stuff. I’m pretty sure almost no one understands it. It just gives us indemnity for acts of extreme moral turpitude, fourth degree burns covering over seventy percent of your body, temporary trachea trauma in cases of extreme penile penetration, unnatural knowledge of inanimate objects, you know, the usual stuff. ”

“Where do I sign?” Lilith asked.

“Right here on the dotted line,” the good doctor said, handing her a pen.

She quickly signed the document, and handed the pen back to Crazy Sammy. “I thought these sorts of documents were supposed to be signed in blood.”

“You don’t think I’m actually Satan?” the good doctor said, smiling knowingly. “That would be delusional. Also, how do you know we didn’t take one of the tubes of blood from your STD tests, injected the sample into this pen, and then added some blue food coloring, for that matter?”

Lilith gasped at this possibility.

“Hey, just messin’ with ya,” the ersatz demon said.

Lilith laughed half-heartedly, but she was worried now. “Surely even the damned can appeal to the Highest Court of all, our Heavenly Father.”

“Well, if you look on page 53, you will see that the highest court for this contract is the Los Angeles County Court.” He smiled at her enigmatically. “Shall we get started?”

He stubbed out his cigarillo and popped a Certs into his mouth. “I realize that the smell of sulphuric smoke is an acquired taste,” he told her. “Please lie down on the couch.”

She walked across the room and laid down on the good doctor’s crimson velvet couch. Her therapist took the seat behind her. Lilith thought that psychoanalysis was dead, but it would seem to be thriving here in the pretend underworld.

“Tell me about yourself, Lilly,” he said, “about how you came to be here.”

“Well, as I told you, I have been abused by virtually every twig of the family tree on my father’s side and my mommy belonged to a satanic cult. I didn’t remember any of it until I went through months of therapy by the good people at the Sacramento Institute for False Memory Implantation. I still can’t remember any of it, to tell you the truth. But I am pretty sure it happened, especially the field trip to Mars. How could somebody make up anything like that?”

“There, there,” said the good doctor as he ran his fingers through Lilith’s soft auburn hair. “Tell me about the second cousin once removed.”

“Well, it happened at a family reunion, when I was only 22 years old. We were kind of playing under a willow tree just like Cal and Abra in East of Eden, and he was teaching me some wrestling moves. He put his hand on the bare skin of my thigh, and I shinnied up that willow tree faster’n Caesar in The Rise of the Planet of the Apes.”

“Take my hand, Lilith,” Dr. Azazel commanded, “and place it on the exact spot where he touched you.”

Lilith took Crazy Sammy’s hand and placed it on her thigh, four inches above her knee. The good doctor lifted her dress and placed his hand on the naked skin of her inner thigh, about six inches above her knee. “Are you sure it wasn’t like this?” Crazy Sammy asked her.

Her breaths were coming in pants now, and her heart was pounding. She didn’t want him to stop. “Maybe, it was,” she said. “I really can’t remember anything about it, except for what the recovered memory people told me.”

“This procedure is called systematic desensitization,” the bearded fiend in the red three-piece suit told her. “We try to diminish your anxiety and fear through facing and reexperiencing the precipitating events. By facing your fears, we enable you to overcome them. Do you want me to stop?”

Lilith was trembling, but she covered his hand with hers, increasing the pressure of his palm against the smooth bare skin of her thigh. “Yes, I mean no. I don’t ever want you to stop. I’m just scared. I can’t remember any of the awful things that the Institute for False Memory Implantation said I went through. I want to experience all of them with you, over and over again. Will you take me there, Dr. Azazel? I want it to be you. Only you.”

“Yes, Ms. Lokisdottir. I will take you there and beyond, if that is truly what you want.”

“It is, it truly is,” she whispered, grabbing his hand and pulling it slowly up her thigh. Her heart still raced, and she feared the forgotten desires that he was awakening in her.

As his fingertips slid up her thigh, he circled her ear with the fingers of his other hand. She gasped when his fingers touched her panties, a place that no man had ever explored before, at least that she recalled.

“These anger me,” he said, ripping her panties from her body. No one at Second Circle is allowed to wear underwear at any time. I need to have access to you at all times. We all need to have access to each other whenever we want, wherever we want, and however we want. Do you understand, my little slave?”

She nodded her head in fear as his fingers circled around the mouth of her cunt, just barely brushing her clit, sending her body into paroxysms of frustrated desire. She grabbed his right hand and pressed it hard against her cunt. When she could take it no more, she pushed two fingers of his hand deeply inside her. Then it was Sammy who took the initiative, ramming the two anointed digits in and out of her throbbing cunt, which was now dripping with the flames of her desire.

She placed her hands on Sammy’s head and soul kissed him as he finger-fucked her, sending shudders through the spider web of her being. Suddenly she came, her juices pouring over Sammy’s hand and wetting the sleeves of his three-piece suit.

Lilith’s demonic therapist then ripped her dress from her body, leaving her naked and helplessly exposed to him on the crimson velvet of the therapeutic couch. He crawled upon the beckoning bed of her flesh and kissed her, his preternaturally long tongue slithering down her throat as she took the full weight of him upon her.

Her heart was pounding at the thought that he was about to violate her virgin body. She put aside the phantoms of recovered memories in favor of the flames that were now burning her soul. She slid her tongue into Sammy’s mouth and closed her lips over the forked end of the demon’s tongue (amazing what some cretins would do at their local tattoo and piercing parlor). Lilith sucked his tongue into her mouth, wanting it to stay inside her forever.

Dr. Azazel’s hands were now roaming her naked flesh. He raked his fingertips over her ears, down her neck, and along the sides of her torso. He yanked his demon’s tongue from her grasping mouth and slithered it around her left ear while his hands traveled to her breasts, teasing her already erect nipples with his fingers, then grabbing them hard with both hands, kneading them as he dry-humped her, his thick long cock pressed along the mouth of her naked cunt through the crimson fabric of his suit pants, which were already wet and stained with his desire. Her orifice was burning with need, crying for him to enter her.

Instead his tongue teased her neck, and roamed down to revisit her throbbing nipples. He teased them at first, feeling them becoming harder and harder. His mouth plunged down on her left breast, taking half of it into his mouth, and he sucked it furiously. Her hands found his head and pressed it tightly against her chest, not letting him abandon her, suckling him like the baby she never had.

She let him up to serve her right breast, which he did with gusto and abandon. She held him against her naked skin with a vise-like grip, never wanting to let him go. Tears streamed down her face as she felt the vast emptiness lifted from her and the universe flowing into her.

Her body was on fire now, and her hands urged his head down her trembling torso to quench the the conflagration at its source. His forked tongue slithered down her tummy, over her pierced navel, and then to her clit. It lashed out at that source of evil, lapping it as she grabbed Sammy’s head and forced it against the core of her being. She felt the velvet of his three-piece suit beneath her upper thighs as her legs were lifted and spread, and her body became defenseless against the demon’s violation. His head ground down on her mound, and she pressed it against her, as the pleasure grew and grew. His split tongue found its way deeply into the passage from which all life flows, and she shuddered over and over again as she baptized his face with her essence. She held him against her for a few minutes, never wanting to let him go.

Then came the reawakening of the darkness, the emptiness. She knew she was evil, but could not remember why. She must be destroyed. She tore the good doctor’s suit off him, just as he had ripped the dress off her own poor helpless body. He was going commando, as was the case for all properly attired citizens of the Second Circle. The demon kicked of his red stormtrooper boots and Lilith ripped off his socks, revealing his cloven hooves.

“Must be a bitch going shoe-shopping with you,” Lilith told her now naked desensitization therapist.

He smiled at her with his now yellow snake-slitted eyes. “It’s amazing, what you can make from human skin,” he told her with a wink. “No need for a cobbler in the far reaches of hell, which is fortunate, as a shoemaker’s life is far too boring to ever gain admission to this, my grandest of dreams.”

Azazel now appeared to her in his true form, replete with ram’s horns, Leviathan cock, shark’s fangs, razor claws, three-foot barbed tail, and many other accoutrements too numerous to list here.

Lilith also dropped her disguise, as her demon past began to come back to her. She unfolded her leathery harpy wings and bared her snake’s fangs. The gray skin of her chest erupted, as her huge succubus breasts revealed themselves. Her dark, haunted and sleepless feline eyes matched the demon Samael’s serpentine stare, but her hunger was deeper. Far deeper.

She swirled her tail as she snaked her tongue over Azazel’s eyes and then ran it across his needle-like teeth and down his torso. The demon shuddered as she plunged his massive goat’s phallus into her hungry maw, raking it with her teeth, while her claws opened rivers of blood that flowed down his chest.

Spreading and beating her wings, she began to draw the demon’s lifeblood into her lungs and straight into her pounding heart. She wanted to leave him empty, just a wrinkled sack of skin on the consulting parlor floor.

Azazel exploded in her mouth, and she eagerly drank the demon’s half-spawn, pulling his very essence inside her. But the demon’s cock somehow retained its power, forcing her to climb up his body and mount him, squeezing her torso against his, her demon milk mixing with the rivers of blood pouring down his chest. Azazel tried to withhold his core, but he could not hold out against the succubus’s gigantic breasts and the frantic beating of her wings. Once again he exploded inside her. She went limp, reduced to a leathery blanket covering Crazy Sammy’s limp body on the velvet consulting couch.

After a few minutes Lilith rose, baring her fangs and flapping her wings. “I am ready for your pathetic test, demon,” she said, looking down at the sorry creature through her cleavage. She flew off his body and positioned her hands near the cuffs on the cinderblock wall. She spread her legs so that her ankles were near the shackles on the floor.

“Are you coming, Worm, or is your fear too strong?”

Crazy Sammy Azazel reluctantly rose from the comforting soft velvet of the consulting couch, trembling as he retrieved the keys from the pocket of his discarded vest. He walked over the Lilith and yanked her head back by her hair. “Are you ready to taste the power of Satan, you dirty little two-bit whore? When you feel his fire on your pathetic little body, you will cry out for death. But it will be not granted to you.”

Azazel slammed her body against the concrete wall, her breasts squeezed into its coldness. He locked the cuffs on her wrists. He traced his way down her lithe naked back and over her buttocks with his talons until he reached the manacles on the floor. He spread her legs widely and locked the shackles around her ankles. He rose behind her. He teased her anus with his tongue and her clit with the fingers of his right hand, always careful to deny her when her gasps told him she was ready to climax.

She heard the creak of wood, as he opened the equipment box.

The first lash of the cat o’ nine tails cut her clean to the muscle. The second followed almost immediately. The pain was exquisite, and she knew that she owned the demon now. Her legs buckled as the third lash opened her skin. She knew his desires were becoming uncontrollable.

She could not see the demon behind her, and jumped when his goat’s cock slammed against her buttocks and tail. She felt his razor teeth as they scraped the skin over her carotid artery. With a single bite, the demon could end her life (at least this one). She shuddered at his total control over her body. He reached around and grabbed her gigantic primordial hooters, teasing her nipples with his sharp claws and sending shudders of delight up and down her spine. He rammed his goat’s cock into her, burying it to the hilt, knocking the wind out of her, and he shoved his thrashing tail two feet up her ass.

He seized her right ear in his fangs and flicked his forked tongue in and out of her auditory canal. She went deaf as he punctured her eardrum, until his split tongue tasted her naked brain. She heard the foul concerto of the screaming damned as he played it directly on her cochlea and the delicious auditory cortex of her temporal lobe.

His strong goat’s legs sprung over and over again as his furry cock pounded more furiously in and out of her birth canal and his acid tail scored the depths of her bowels. She thought her spine would surely break, but suddenly the goat’s haunches stopped thrusting and his foul juices filled her womb. The inner heat over came her and she came and released her bladder at the same, shooting her waters all over the demon’s lower body. They stood there motionless for a few minutes, until the demon spoke.

“I think you’re ready for the main attraction,” the fiend said. “Welcome to the Second Circle.”

SECOND CIRCLE

He ushered her to a door with the standard yellow saw-horse wet floor sign in front of it. While the top warning was the usual “Caution: Wet Floor,” the expected Spanish version “Cuidado: Piso Mojado” did not appear underneath it. In its place was the warning “Omnes relinquite spes, o vos intrantes.” Although the warning was in Latin, Lilith was easily able to read it: “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.” The warning above the gates of Hell. She ought to know. She wrote and painted the original, as a warning to herself.

She smiled. She was home. It all came back to her now.

The world beyond the gate was filled by the stench of sulphurous smoke and the screaming of the damned. She grabbed the quaking pseudo-demon Crazy Sammy Azazel by his oily hair, threw him into the clouds of brimstone, and listened to his screams as hungry demons slowly, so very slowly, tore his body apart.

She would have handed her coat to the hatcheck girl, but it was merely human skin (with a couple of demon wings thrown in) and thus worthless in this realm.

She felt the emptiness of that human skin, which longed to be wrapped in its kind, to be surrounded by a crushing womb of its own fabric. She was in a vast cave of skin, its stalactites and stalagmites gigantic throbbing phalluses longing to impale her, tortured by the emptiness of the air that surrounded them. The stalagmites futilely stretched for a kiss from their stalactite mothers. Together, they comprised the cave’s teeth, poised for the terrible bite that would end the world.

Lilith walked over over Hell’s tongue until she reached the Devil’s master fangs. Her hands caressed the living giant stalagmite phallus that stood before her. She licked the underside of its hood and ran her hands up and down its length, throwing her arms and wings around it and squeezing it, trying to prime Hell’s acid pump. One beat of her wings brought her nether mouth to the pinnacle of the Devil’s rod. She briefly opened the shaft’s single eye and peered down into the acid depths of the True Hell. Her cunt was wet and dripping and could be denied no longer. Lilith spread her legs and impaled herself on that monstrous organ, feeling it spread her apart as she bounced up and down on its cruel length. Even as the phallus tore through her diaphragm, spread her lungs, and filled her totally, she could still feel the emptiness of air on her skin, the blackness that consumed her from within, and the taunting vacancy of the Other, which remained forever unobtainable, just beyond the reach of her being.

She longed for more, and called down the stalagmite’s mate. She opened her mouth to receive its communion and felt a stabbing pain as the upper phallic stalactite punctured her throat, sliding down her esophagus while its mate ascended her trachea, each grinding lasciviously against the other. Lilith came time and time again, and felt the boiling sperm that shot out of Hell’s phallic teeth with each thrust inside her.

Still it was not enough, and she called all of the Master’s fangs to fill her body, and they grew like serpents, snaking their way around her trembling torso, penetrating her ass, her ears, her eyes, and then tearing open new orifices that pulsed with hitherto unexperienced forms of pleasure. They fought each other to feed on her clit, and Lilith could feel them slithering through her brain and heart. Her body shuddered as she came over and over again, and she could feel the hot ocean of sperm rushing through her bloodstream.

Still the emptiness remained, and she yearned for more, something to heat her in this vast frozen vacancy that passed as the humans’ pathetic universe. She was uncountably pierced, yet her spared skin cried out for comfort, to be wrapped completely against the cold empty air.

It was then that she saw the tranquil Sid Gautama floating before her. He was wearing the orange robe of a monk and his head was shaven, as always.

He smiled beatifically at her and whispered, “You must control your cravings. Life is suffering and the cause of suffering is unfulfilled desire. You must still your mind, become one with the emptiness. You must have no mind, no soul. Spread yourself on the wind. Then you will be everything and everything will be you.

“This is all just a dream and you are the dreamer. Spread your wings on the ether and awaken in samadhi, the peace that passeth all understanding.

“And just before you become perfection and the Godhead itself, consider leaving your unworthy illusory material possessions to the Temple of the Golden Pavilion, conveniently located at 77 Sunset Strip in the heart of southern California, the Shangri-La of spiritual perfection. We are featuring a double tax deduction on donations, but this blessing will only last until Labor Day, so get those donations now before it’s too late. Remember, with a donation of $100 or more, you get a free laughing Buddha key ring and tote bag, and a donation of $1000 or more will get you one incarnation closer to paradise.

“Until then, this is Sid Gautama, Edd “Kookie Byrnes, and the late Don Cornelius bringing you love, peace, and OHMMMMMMMMMMMMM.”

Sid had told her these things a million times before, she remembered. However, despite his utilitarian fund-raising tactics, she knew that Sid had truly laid the road to spiritual perfection and escape from suffering before her. In their past encounters, they had even explored the sexual techniques of tantric yoga together, and she would have to fight those tingly memories if she were ever to be released from the Wheel of Karma.

Again she sat in the lotus position, imagining a single flame before her. She needed to get it right this time. She practiced prana breathing, taking the air deeply inside her lungs, holding it and slowly releasing it. She stilled her mind completely, becoming both pure nothingness and the universe itself. The devouring mouth of Hell faded and was replaced by a vacancy even more impenetrable than the blackness that preceded it.

She was nothing now, no soul, no body, no mind. She held this state of perfection for what seemed like eternity as the Wheel of Samsara spun on and on.

But then perfect nothingness was broken by a pinprick of light, one last flaw to draw her back. She watched the blackness as it reformed around her, reflecting the duality of light and darkness. She supposed that the light was God, or perhaps just another iteration of the Big Bang. As it grew larger, so did her fear. She hoped that she was not in another birth canal and the light was not the beam of a head lamp worn by a spelunking obstetrician waiting to catch her as she was ejected from the womb like a screwball thrown by Fernando Valenzuela. Anything but that.

Of course with each death a world dies. And a new one is born.

FULL CIRCLE

A beeping signal blaring into her ears forced Lilith Lokisdotter to open her eyes, which blearily focused on some guy on TV delivering a middle of the night spiel. He wore a crimson three-piece suit over a black satin shirt and matching crimson tie, and sported a Van Dyke beard. His hair was slicked back and black as night.

THE END