She-Devil In Church Ch. 03

Isabel lay unconscious on the church floor. The mighty slut, so sure of herself, so imposing to the men she enoyed, her inflated ego at times maniacal, now lay in a naked heap, one soiled, sticky thigh pressed into a footleg of the altar.

The men she had turned into whore-mongers were long-gone. She was crumpled flesh, a slab of exhausted fuck meat. Her cunt, asshole and lips seeping the fluids of human and inhuman spirits.

Her mind - once keen and intelligent, albeit diabolical - was now on a parallel to that of a drug-fried, crack-burned street whore. Her body twitched and her vocal chords moaned as her mind went spinning up the funnel of a psychotic tornado, inward to the source of what had brought her over the edge of Hell.

She found herself dressed in filthy rags, some kind of tattered, stained, greasy black babydoll, and reeking of sex and sweat, as if she had just been fucked by 40 men who had not taken a bath in a month.

Lying on her side, she forced weary strained muscles to lift her upright. She found herself sitting in fetid mud, in a place of darkness, some kind of jungle. There appeared near her and all around her piles of wilting, sickly plants, wooden limbs that were rotted and swarming with beetles and worms.

In the pit of her stomach she felt a terrible anxiety and it quickly spread up through her chest and spine and she trembled with fear. She heard then steps as if something tromping through mud, large boots slopping through muck and she jerked to look and flinched as He approached, first as a shadow form and then clear, in all his eternal disgrace.

A scarred man form, about seven feet in height, light skinned and hairy, wearing purple pants with pinstripe yellow lines, the ankle cuffs draped over muddy boots that were studded with red gems on the instep. A large sex organ bulged and throbbed from his crotch to his left knee. He wore a black leather vest and no shirt. His chest was hairy and covered with scars. She glanced into his face, whinced at the sight and looked away.

His face was beguiling and craggy, handsome yet hideous. Unbridled lust, a beguiling, murderous look projected unto her, the eyes were like shiny black glass. He had long and thick, wavy black hair down to his shoulders. She knew this must be an incarnation of Satan.

Isabel sobbed and said, "You attacked me! Why? I have done everything you asked."

His answer was a high-pitched, ear-splitting shriek coupled to a low growl. No human words and yet a message was received. "I am done with you. I have no need for your cooperation. Your form belongs to me. It can carry out my wishes without your spirit."

Isabel cried, "Noooooo!" He was taking from her any hope of repenting, any hope of having any control over her will, any hope of avoiding damnation. She had always toyed with the idea of somehow, at the last minute, she might escape judgment. Her time was ending before she had expected, without warning.

He stepped swiftly forward and pushed at her chest, flinging her into the mud and the mud gave away and clawed hands came up from under her, many clawed hands scratching, sliding around her spine and rib cage, the form of arms wrapping around her torso terrified her. Her head was pulled under the mud and one last full-throated scream escaped: "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

She awoke! She jerked up in a jump, still screaming to find herself back in the church and on her feet, screaming: "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

The first sight of reality was an angel in the stained glass window that for a moment was a devil laughing at her, but as she focused she saw it for what it was, a blue-robed angel with long white wings, frozen in glass and useless to her. It would not come to her rescue.

Shivering with terror, she said, "It was a dream, just a dream, just a dream. It was just a dream dammit!"

She saw she was alone and that disturbed her deeply. She remembered the attack and cried into her hands. A demon had raped her and the men (her men!) praised the attack and then raped her themselves. They made no effort to save her. None! They showed no respect for her authority!

Unnerved to her core, unsure of herself for the first time in years, Isabel felt in danger. There was the immediate danger of not knowing the time.

How long had she been out? Her husband and children must be waiting for her. What if someone were about to come in the church, someone she couldn't trust?

"Oh God! I'm filthy. I need to clean up. Yes, I'll, I'll clean up and go home," she said to herself.

She hurried first to gather her clothes, then to the restroom. She washed and dried and dressed and hurried to her car. She found her purse on the floorboard and pulled out her cell phone. Oh no! She was two hours past her expected arrival time. Her husband had left three messages. She couldn't think of an excuse, so she just started the car and drove home.

She hurriedly pulled into the driveway and double-time marched across the lawn and up the steps.

"Where were you?!" yelled her husband Zach.

"Oh, honey! I'm sorry. I took ill at the church all of sudden. I just, my stomach, it was terrible. I started throwing up! And one of the ladies insisted on taking me to her place to rest. I went in her car. She lives just a few blocks from the church and I didn't think I'd be gone long.

"I left my cell phone with my purse in the car. She gave me something to drink and it calmed my stomach but it made me sleepy and the next thing I know ... "

"It's late! And you could have called from her house. Shit! You knew I had to get to work. I'm fucking going to be late. I'm already late!" Zach yelled.

"I know, I know, I know, oh honey, really, I'm so very sorry. I just wasn't thinking straight. I've had a very disorienting afternoon."

Isabel tried to hug her husband but he would have none of it.

"Get dinner started for the kids, they're bitching about they stomachs. We'll talk later!"

And out the door he went. Isabel hurried behind him and followed him to the porch and said, "I'll make it up to you tonight!"

He turned and frowned. She smiled a lewd smile. He smiled back reluctantly, and said, "Yeah, you sure the fuck will."

She watched him pull away, waving all the time, throwing a kiss to seal her apology. But as his truck disappeared, her dread came back full force.

She had toyed with terrible forces for her own wicked games. She had gone too far and she knew it. She felt a need to pull away from this. And it occurred to her that she had been so wicked, so nasty for so long that the men in church would never let her out now. She was no longer in control.

What they had done to her! How would she reassert control?

She could, she told herself. She still had skills, she could still manipulate, keep one step ahead of them. This was a setback, but it wasn't that bad.

"It's not that bad," she told herself. "It's not that bad."

And she went inside to whining children and cooked dinner. She went inside to the fruits of a respectable life, a life she didn't deserve, the kind of life that she had denied Naomi.

* <> *

Naomi sat on her back porch. Dressed in bluejean cutoff shorts and a black Ozzy t-shirt, she rubbed her extended belly and wondered if it was really okay not to know who the father was, as she had no clue. She was seven months pregnant. She stared across the unkempt yard. She lived alone.

Her husband, like her marriage, was a farce. He didn't support her. Her brought her men to fuck for money.

She had a 2-year-old son playing in the backyard. Little Gustavo chased after his puppy.

Church was the farthest thing from her mind. That life was over. Although she had only stopped going just over three years earlier, she couldn't

imagine fitting into that scene today. She was a whore. "I'm a whore," she'd tell herself morning, noon and night. It was her way of reminding herself of the options not open to her, like visiting her parents or going back to school.

She didn't like it. She wasn't proud of it. But the lifestyle infected her mind, body and soul. She looked at it like a drug. It was bad for her, so bad. But it felt so good in some sick sweet way, like too much sugar. Bad for you. Like too much wine. Bad for you.

"Too much cock. Bad for you," she said and let out a melancholy, bitter smile. She was expecting a customer, Jose, (Martha's father) had called.

She hadn't seen him in months and wondered why he'd come by now. He knew she was pregnant and he was one of Isabel's favorites.

Isabel, that bitch! Isabel never came around. Naomi had come to the conclusion some time ago that Isabel never cared about her. She was a false friend, a false "big sister." She was false in every way. And yet Isabel was still respectable.

"Respectable!" she said out loud with contempt.

She watched her son, the innocent! A sweet boy. The one thing that helped restore to Naomi some of her humanity, not that she was entirely at odds with her lifestyle. Some of the men were actually nice. And Naomi held fast to the idea that she was still basically a good person. A person who had a promiscuous, slutty streak, but still a good person. Not like Isabel.

She was lost in thought when she wasn't distracted by the fullfilling sight of her son bumbling around the yard on new legs, so she didn't hear the knock knock on her front door frame.

"Naomi!" came the call. It was Jose. Naomi stood with some difficulty, didn't bother to answer. She walked into the den from the back door and through the hall to her front door. She opened it to find Jose standing with his daughter Martha. What's this, Naomi wondered?

She unlatched the door without a word and let them in. Martha looked at the floor the whole time, there was shame in her shrouded face and the young lady's humble posture gave Martha a sickening feeling.

"What's she doing here? Why did you bring her here?" Naomi said to Jose in an interrogative tone.

"Suck my dick!" Jose barked.

"Fuck you, Jose. What's she doing here. I'm not doing nuthin with her," Naomi said with absolute resolve.

"How's the baby coming along," Jose countered, a cavalier expression on his face matching and casual don't-give-a-fuck slouch.

"Like you care. What's this about?" Naomi insisted.

Jose smiled a smile that flashed wicked, white teeth. His eyes flickered, going from human to black glass for a split second, then back again.

Naomi shuddered. She had seen that before, in Isabel's eyes. Whatever had been inside of Isabel was now visiting Jose's body. His right hand rose, arched and swatted Martha's buttock. "Show her your back, girl," Jose said.

Without hesitation, Martha pivoted to present her back to Naomi, lifted her shirt and bent over to reveal a fresh Satanic tattoo for a tramp stamp.

"Oh, girl," Naomi said to Martha's back, a tone of disappointment in her voice. Her head snapped toward Jose and she snarled, "What did you do?"

"That's none of your concern, whore! There's been a shift in the balance of things. Isabel isn't so high and mighty anymore. I'm running our fun and games now. I'm just here to use this brothel for its intended purpose. I'm not here for you. I have some friends coming over to get a taste of this," he said as he knifed his hand between Martha's thighs and made her flinch.

"Why don't you go stay in the back yard with your boy, keep him out of trouble. Better yet ... "

He reached in his pocket for his car keys and wallet, handed Naomi the keys with two $20 bills.

"Go take your boy to a movie."

Naomi took the keys and the money, walked around to stand in front of Martha, she was in a low pant, is if she were a bitch in deep heat. Naomi shook her head, but decided she wanted no part of this. She walked out the back door and across the grass.

She latched onto her son's little hand, led him down the side of the house and into Jose's car. She started the engine and felt guilt for leaving Martha there, but she wasn't about to go back.

Fifteen minutes later, Willie, Geraldo, Oscar and Ricardo pulled up in an old Buick. Juan, Martha's boyfriend, was not with them. He didn't know his girlfriend was about to be gang fucked by the older men. A few minutes later, Roman and Tomas drove up separately in a truck.

The men gathered in the living room were filled with supernatural will. Jose, demon possessed, transmitted to the others an aura that overpowered Martha once she was surrounded. They nodded at her, squinted at her, snapped their fingers at her, pulled their cocks out for her, and for their own sensual gratification.

Jose went to the truck and opened the cooler in the truckbed. He lifted from it a live toad and a sow's head. He re-entered Naomi's whore house. He made his way to the center, where his daughter was in a trance, panting and rubbing her own pussy, staring at the wooden floor.

Jose pressed the bloody neck of the sow to the floor and smeared its fluids in a circle around his daughter. He then knelt in front of his daughter and asked for her foot. He took a knife from his pocket and cut open the bottom of her foot. She shuffled inside the circle, drawing a thin line of her own blood from center to circle, repeatedly, until she formed the five points of a star.

"Strip whore, make yourself naked," Jose said, his voice rising with excitement.

She stripped and then lay on her back, arms out and legs spread. She knew it not, but as Satan's presence persisted in this group, His power of the group grew stronger and His ability to use men to use women, and to use women to use men grew more powerful and efficient.

What He had done to Isabel took years. Naomi's downfall was only a partial success. But Martha came to Him quickly and totally.

As she lay on the floor, her demon-possessed father knelt by her side and place the live toad on her chest.

"Like the toad, you will always have your legs open, whore! Like the toad's image, your heart will be grotesque, whore! May goodness and innocence recoil from you."

Jose raised the sow's head, its dead eyes staring at her, and asked, "How are you like the sow?"

"I am filth," Martha said with a creepy smile.

"How is your soul like the sow's soul?" her wicked father asked, his voice quivering with excitement.

"My soul is dead to me, my soul does not belong to me!"

Jose lasciviously place his free hand on her thigh and rubbed up the inner thigh until his thumb flicked into her slit.

"Who does your soul belong to?" he questioned.

"My soul belongs to Lucifer!" she said exultantly.

He lowered the sow's head and put its snout just above her lips. "Kiss the sow, unite yourself to your Master. Invite Him into your flesh. Ask for your fate."

Martha lifted her head and licked at the snout. She kissed the pig and spoke, "Come make me your whore, Lucifer. Come to me. Fuck me! My fate is damnation. My fate is damnation and ruin! Fuck me Lucifer!"

A cold wind hit her and boxed her ears. "Ahhhh," she cried, eyes closing. She opened them and felt compelled to jerk her head forward, she saw the toad's eyes and she saw them change. The toad shifted shape and became a black snake. The snake grew to the length of her body. She shivered and stared at it. The men stood around her amazed and speechless.

The snaked coiled up on her stomach, raised its head and without warning struck, it's fangs in an instant sinking into her neck. She cried and its

venom went into her bloodstream. The snake retrieved its fangs, pulled away and slithered off her body. It separated into seven leaches and crawled up the legs of each man. It burrowed into their flesh and within minutes they were ill, their skins turned a blotchy red, then a full deep crimson red. They pulled off their clothes and looked at each other, amazed and filled with a strength they did not recognize.

Martha's skin turned a pale and ghostly white. She came out of her trance and found herself surrounded by seven demons. For a moment fully human again, she was revolted, horrified, she then recalled what she had asked for and cried, "Nooooo I didn't mean it!"

She recoiled and tried to crawl out of the circle. But firm hands latched onto her ankles and wrists. The first demonic man lunged into her. She cried a little. But her moment of human lucidity vanished like a dream by the sixth stroke of his cock and she broke into a cock-hungry smile.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Ahhhhh!"

"Yeeahhhh, yeaaahhh," she groaned out with a lusty sneer. "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, nnnnnnnnnnnnnnyeaaa! nnnnnnnnnnnnnnyeaahhhhhhhhhhh! ohhhhhhhhhhhh.

Yessssssssssssss!"

Slithering, long, snake-like, scaling red cocks throbbed for her. A demon-possessed man knelt by each hand and helped her palms find red hot cocks.

She pulled and stroked as she was fucked and kept in perpetual, all-consuming lust.

Her young pale buttocks gyrated and scraped against the floor, getting nailed down even as her abdomen and back were engaged to push back. Her cunt became a frothing flow of musky juices, squirting and sloshing, impaling cock coming with squishing, sloppy, energetic responding humps for a young woman entering whoredom with all her heart.

"Fuck me!" she demanded. "Fuck me!"

Hot jets of demon-tainted seed spewed into her cervix. She was filled, and in the instant one released into her the indiscrimate seed of her certain ruin, the demon man pulled out and stood and she begged for the next to take his place.

"Put that dick in me! Put that fucking red cock in me! yesss, I'm Lucifer's whore and I want that cock! Fuck me and cum. Fuck me and cum hard!"

Her hands and supple, sweet mouth teased angry, hard cocks, keeping them ready to finish their task between her trembling young legs.

She stroked and licked. She moaned and bucked. She cursed and begged. Her body jiggled and shook. It shuddered and jerked. It humped and slapped back at every thrust and sticky piston-like stroke. United to evil, embracing all sin, two hearts beating in all-consuming lust.

One after the other, they fucked her. One after the other, they pounded between the soft, warm dripping fold of her once pure treasure, they put their hard backs into each driving stab of cock into tight, hot, drooling, cock-loving cunt.

One after the other, they filled her womb with evil seed. They promised her nothing but more of the same, forever. Her feet cramped, the tensions in her were so intense. Her calves and thighs cramped. Her belly cramped. She came with painful force. She howled like a wild animal, cumming on their merciless red hot pokers.

"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngahhhhhhhhhhh! AHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!"

Naomi returned from the movies and a dinner. Her son napping in the back seat. The cars were still there. She got out and walked to the porch. She listened. She heard a female voice growling out profanities like some half-human, half-beast bitch in heat. She peered through the screen window and saw a sight from science fiction.

"Oh my god!" she cried in a stunned whisper. They did not hear her. They were lost in their unholy act. Naomi stepped away, shaking. She went back to the car and decided to keep on driving.

The seven possessed men and Satan's new bride fucked themselves to exhaustion. They fucked their way to unconsciousness. They awoke at midnight, restored to human form, but with hearts even more wicked than before.

Martha lay on her back, legs wide open, rubbing cum as it leaked out of her, making circles with it on her stomach, fascinated with what was going on in her womb. She knew. She knew.

She looked at the men as they regained consciousness and grinned and spoke. "Mmmmmm, I'm pregnant. Mmmmmmm, yes. I'm pregnant. Uhhhh, ha! I'm so fucking pregnant!"