by Faye, Amy
Their anger now would make for better sex later, I reasoned. When they were angry, it made it easier for me to fuck them rough.
“Where are we going?” She asked once we were on the porch.
I leaned back to kiss Starr on the cheek before going down the stairs. “I have to make a delivery. Put this on.” I handed her the helmet, but she held it with a limp hand and a confused face.
“I don't know how,” she finally admitted.
“Lady, where the hell are you from?” I asked, but it was a rhetorical question. One that she just laughed at, never giving even a hint of an answer. Just a Mona Lisa smile.
Chapter 3
Imogael
Once Scott had the hard helmet on my head, he got onto his machine. “Are you going to get on?” He asked with an edge of impatience in his voice.
“I don't know how,” I admitted. It was like being a newborn, being sent to this world. I wondered, then, if this was how every demon felt when they were sent on assignment in the land of the humans. Did they all have a learning period, or were they taught the ins and outs of humanity and their strange machines before they left the safety of Hell?
Likely a bit of both, I reasoned. It's just that demons, prideful things that we are, never admit to not knowing something. That I was so readily admitting a weakness to this human was disconcerting to me. Did he have some sort of power over me?
In Hell, I was the one with the power. I made humans cower, but with this pale skin and without my wings or horns, I seemed fragile to Scott. Human minds were hard to penetrate while in their lands, but I could go in the shallow end. There was an infuriating pity for me that I wanted to stamp out at some point.
“You're kidding me, right? A girl like you's never been on a motorcycle?” He asked, rubbing his face. So the machine was called a motorcycle.
“No,” I said, then grinned. “Help me on.”
He held out his hand and I emulated his movements, swinging my leg up and over. If someone had been watching, there was no doubt that they would have seen right up my skirt. I wrapped my arms around Scott's torso, feeling the hardness of his muscles. I rubbed my hands on those muscles, enjoying the feel.
He sighed. “Stop that, and just hold on.”
“Am I bothering you?” I asked with a grin. Moving closer, I made sure my hot breath could be felt on his neck.
“Yes, actually, you are. You are bothering me in about 50 different ways, and if you don't stop I will slap you. Understood?”
“Oh, is that supposed to encourage me to stop?”
He looked back at me with poison in his eyes. He was fun! Humans had so much more energy in their own lands. I did as he said, holding on tight.
The machine came to life with a loud roar and delicious vibrations that my bare cunt definitely enjoyed. My arms gripped him more tightly, and I allowed myself to moan. Just once. Just enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
It wasn't the normal kind of torture I did to humans, but it was infinitely more pleasurable to make this one man squirm.
Then the machine moved forward, and I couldn't play around anymore. It was an incredibly fast ride, one that made me lose my breath and made my newly human heart thunder in my chest. The human world had so many curiosities that I wished Hell had access to.
“We're here,” he said, eventually. I had breathlessly watched the world pass us by for the whole ride, barely even processing the different things I had seen. This place, though, was familiar to me. It looked a lot like some areas of hell.
“What is this place?”
“It's a miniature town where Hiroshima is headquartered.” I got off of the bike and straightened my skirt, then watched as he dismounted it as well. The large bag on his shoulder looked heavy. “They have a bar, a few stores, and a bunch of houses just for their men and some civilians. I'll let you wander if you promise to be good.”
“I'll stay with you,” I answered. The other men had dirty thoughts on their mind when they saw me. It was fun, but I felt insecure at the same time. Too many humans near me was hard to process.
Scott chuckled and led the way to the building in the dead center, the building that the large road led to. A man with a square head and long hair tied back in a ponytail came out. His thin eyes were tired, but still he smiled at Scott.
“Saejima,” Scott said, bowing deeply. The man, Saejima, bowed to Scott almost as deeply.
“Old friend. I see you brought one of Starr's women with you.”
Scott threw a look to me and gave Saejima an uneasy smile. “She was the one they found in the labs. Despite the way she's dressed, she's not actually a whore. Not one of Starr's, at least.”
“Hm,” Saejima hummed, looking me up and down. His thoughts were harder to read than most. There was curiosity, but not much else could be deciphered. He bowed to me. “A pleasure to meet you, miss...”
“Elise,” Scott said, then turned to me. He mouthed the word bow to me, so I bent forward from my hips.
“So,” said Saejima, turning back to Scott. “I assume that bag holds my guns?”
“Yep,” he answered. “We should head inside before we deal with this.”
Saejima nodded, then led them both into the tall building. The inside had a lot of glass and black surfaces. A woman that looked vaguely like Saejima sat at a desk and watched the group enter. She bowed her head to Saejima but kept her eyes on me.
Down a hallway and through to a room with a desk and a machine on top of it, I watched as Scott set the large bag on the desk and Saejima opened it with a glint in his eyes. He pulled out a machine and inspected it. “These are well made.”
“They were stolen from the Fast and Furious guns in Mexico, so they're American made. There might be a Russian gun or two in there, too.”
“Can I touch one?” I asked. The guns looked like exactly my kind of toy.
Scott looked to Saejima, who gave me an amused look. “I don't see why not. Here, girl, how does this pistol feel?” He asked, taking a gun from his hip and setting it into my hand. I felt like I was salivating as I held it. Visions, memories, of bloodshed and horror filled my brain.
Yeah, that was the good stuff.
“Can I have one of these things?” She asked, turning to Scott. “They feel nice.”
His eyebrows stitched together with something like worry. “If you tell me the name of the man that hurt you, I'll help you get a legal gun. I'm not letting you get caught with one of these.”
I clicked my tongue and begrudgingly gave Saejima his gun back. I was turn between wanting to stay with Saejima and staying with Scott, but I felt strangely attached to Scott. His was the first face I saw when I woke up, and his demeanor was familiar to me.
“This is good enough,” Saejima said. “Nothing will bring Jin back, but this will be enough to keep our alliance with The Mob. You tell Antonio, though, that if his kids do not stay out of my bar...”
“He knows, Saejima. Trust me. Give it a week, and he'll have some sense beaten into all of them.”
“A week. After that, I kill any of his kids that are in my bar.”
Scott nodded. “I'll relay that message.”
There was a shout from the front, no doubt from the woman that had watched us enter the building. The men jumped, then left the room in an instant. I followed more slowly. There was violence outside.
“Fuck, that's a kid from The Mob,” I heard Scott whisper. Then in an instant, he was between the man that looked like a younger version of Saejima and a man with more pink skin. Their fists still swung towards each other.
Fun!
With my hands, I weaved some magic into the situation, giving both of the fighters some more strength. They broke away from Scott and came to blows again, brutalizing each other with each hit that connected. There was blood on the cement below them.
A flick of my wrist sent the one with pink skin flying towards Saejima's man head first. His skull connected with the man's stomach, and they both fell to
the ground.
Scott tried to pull them off, and one of the men knocked Scott to the ground with a sweep of his foot. I laughed hysterically, until Saejima's man mounted Scott and hit him in the nose. There was no cracking of bones, but even seeing the man touch Scott like that filled me with a peculiar fury. Pushing my hands down, I took away the power I had given them, plus some. The men, winded then, still fought but much more pathetically.
Scott shot me a strange look before finally pulling the pink man away from Saejima's man. “Get the fuck out of here,” he demanded. The pink man ran to a black motorcycle and was gone.
Saejima grabbed the younger version of himself by the collar of his shirt. “Was it not enough that we lost Jin? Now you want me to lose my only son?”
“Dad!” The man said, trying to break away from his grip, but he didn't have the energy.
“Get inside. We will be discussing this with your mother.”
The younger man's face filled with despair, but he did as he was told. The display of power was entertaining, but Scott's nose was bleeding and I wanted nothing more than to make it stop.
I stepped up to him, but he stepped back. Suspicion was written all over his face, but then it faded away. Saejima handed him a cloth from his pocket, which Scott put up to his nose to control the bleeding.
“Apologies, old friend.”
Scott shook his head. “It wasn't your fault. Tensions are still high. If we're done, though, I'm going to go home.”
“We're done. Will we see you for poker in a few days?”
Scott nodded, then grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side of his motorcycle. The crowd that had gathered to watch the fight was filtering away.
“Are you gonna tell me the man's name?” He asked, looking up to the sky and pressing his hand to the cloth on his nose.
“I don't know his name,” I admitted. It was as close to the truth as he was ever going to get.
“Fine. Do you have somewhere to stay?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“I didn't think so. You're sleeping on my couch until I can figure out what to do with you.”
I didn't argue with him. I was interested in learning more about him and his world anyway.
Scott
My home was one of many on a long street that stretched for miles before finally finding a dead end. Most of the houses looked the same. Many were empty and falling apart, like the hopes of the people that once lived in them. They were built in the 60s, and had been owned largely by the same families for 50 years, passing from mother to daughter to son.
I only had a neighbor on the left, and my backyard let into a small wooded area. The house on the right was empty before I moved in, and had remained so ever since.
The house wasn't the same one I had always lived in, but it was close enough in how it looked. Sometimes the resemblance drudged up bad memories of pale hair and paler face, eyes blue-green like the stormy waters of the ocean.
“You cook?” I asked Elise as I got off my bike. Something about her had spooked me back there, but I was determined to ignore it. It was superstition, an unusual paranoia. She looked as if she had been treating that fight like an orchestra, and herself its director, but I was also pretty sure she was high as balls.
“No,” she answered me. That was about what I expected.
“Of course you don't. Come on, I'll make us some steaks and, I don't know. Noodles or something.”
I had her sit her ass on my couch while I cooked, and clicked on the TV for her. She was a strange bird. A puzzle that was bad news but I still wanted to solve it. Where had she come from? What sort of life did she live before mysteriously appearing in Starr's lab?
Nothing about the girl made a damn lick of sense. I knew how Starr was about that lab. If she wasn't down there, no one was. So how had a strung out girl make her way into a locked down basement?
I heard her laughing in the living room. Her voice sounded like bells as much as it sounded like nails on chalkboard. The dissonance made my skin crawl.
She ate her food like a starved wolf, as if it was her first meal. She was thin, but not underfed, and yet she ate like a madwoman, taking the stake in both hands and gnawing on it like she didn't quite know how to use her teeth.
“Hey. Use your damn fork and knife,” I said, demonstrating to her how to do so. She watched me with curiosity. Everything I did, she watched with curiosity. Was she kidnapped as a baby and kept in some dark basement? How could someone know so little about the world?
It was like a puzzle where none of the pieces fit and some of them were jagged shards of glass.
She liked the noodles less than the meat. Watching her as she sucked on her finger made my cock stir again. I had to force myself to look away, until I felt her hand on my thigh. It slid higher, towards my package.
“The hell you think you're doing, girl?” I growled, throwing her hand off of me. She pouted at me.
She really was completely infuriating.
I stood and took the plates into the kitchen, leaving her behind so that I could cool down and regain control of myself. God help me if I fucked that girl in my house. I hadn't had sex in my own space since she left.
When I turned around, I found her behind me, her emerald eyes staring into me. Burning into me. I reached out to touch her face, then pulled my hand away. I demanded that I get control of my damn hormones, stop trying to fuck a woman that was clearly just out of an abusive relationship. She was fragile. She was easy prey. What fun was there in that?
Her hand slid from my abs to my cock, and sinful thoughts flooded my head. I wanted to bit into her neck and claim her. I wanted my hand on those tits, up that skirt. I wanted to completely own her.
I pushed her away. Again, she pouted.
It was too much. I gave in, grabbing her by the neck and slamming her against my kitchen wall. My mouth was on hers. Her tongue slipped between my lips, tasting me. I took her thigh and wrapped her leg around my hip.
She undid my pants, and I slid into her. She was tighter than I expected. She didn't feel at all like someone's whore. The way she resisted my entrance, she almost felt like she had never been used before.
“Fuck,” I grunted, pressing deeper into her. Moving my hips fast, I fucked the shit out of her. All she could do was hold on tight.
“Strangle me,” she begged.
“What?” I asked, pulling my cock almost all the way out before slamming it deep into her. She gasped, her fingers digging into my back.
“Strangle me, please. I want it.”
Who was I to deny her a good orgasm? But I didn't wrap my hands around her neck. Instead, I clamped my hand around her nose and mouth, stopping her from breathing except for a few forced gasps that she forced through my fingers.
Her pussy clamped around my cock, then she came, with a great gush. Never in my life had a woman cum like that around my dick. I was about to go over the edge, too.
Pulling out of her, I pressed on her shoulder. “On your knees,” I said. She fell to her knees and opened her mouth with a sinful little grin. I came on her top, on her chest, on her face. Some got in her mouth, the rest she dipped a finger into and sucked up into her mouth.
It was incredibly hot, but then the guilt set in. The kind of guilt that makes you sad, and then pissed off that you don't think you have the right to feel anything at all.
I stormed off, leaving her in the kitchen to clean herself up. It was cruel, but it was all I could do to avoid making a scene.
Chapter 4
Imogael
That flicker of guilt after Scott had used me left me confused. For such an interesting man, so many things bothered him. I never got to deal with people who were truly repentant in my admittedly short time in Hell. The goodness in humans was at once revolting and interesting. I wanted to understand it, while not being touched by it.
I wondered if I could actually succeed at such a balancing act. Did other demons have this problem when they visited this plane to se
duce humans to sin? Did they find humans as interesting as she did, or were they immune to their charms?
Something inside of me worried that I was becoming a bad demon. That admiration for humanity was unnatural and wrong.
I laid down on his slouching, uncomfortable couch, expecting sleep to take me for the first time ever, but that part of me apparently was not humanized. I wasn't tired, though I experienced hunger for the first time while eating the food Scott had prepared for me. Or perhaps I experienced the lack of hunger for the first time.
The lack of sleep meant that I had a lot of free time and nothing to do. What did humans do when they had too much free time? With such short lives, it seemed amazing to me that they were forced to spend so much of it sleeping. It almost seemed like a crime to force them into a bed when there was so much a human could experience before death.
I stayed on that couch until I was too bored to continue staring at the ceiling, thinking about Scott's cock inside of me. The orgasm was more powerful than any I had experienced in Hell, and Scott stretched out my unused holes so deliciously. I hoped that he would do the same again, and soon.
To even be given a virgin body was a surprise to me. In Hell, I was anything but a virgin. To be given a fresh body, a blank slate, seemed like an overwhelming responsibility. I found myself wanting to prove I was worthy of the body, and then laughed. What a stupid thing to think!
Keeping an ear open to Scott's dreaming thoughts, I stood. If he woke up while I explored, I would know it in time to go back to the couch. Until then, I decided I wanted to know where his guilt came from.
Scott seemed to think in emotions and colors, but less with words. There would be no explanation of that guilt from just reading his mind. In the hallway, there were 4 doors. One led to the room where he was sleeping. Another, upon opening, was revealed to be a closet with towels and hair products. Condoms, too.
