The Houseguest from Hell
One of the toughest things about being a freelance villain is the downtime.
When heroes get bored, they just go on patrol, looking for trouble. But when you’re a villain, you’re the one causing said trouble. No one really takes that into account. The amount of careful planning, effort, and drive required to carry out an evil scheme properly is a lot of work. And does it get appreciated? Pft. Not damn likely. A hero will foil you without even a thought as to how hard it was to assemble that doomsday device. And come on, plutonium doesn’t grow on trees. And are you given even a word of acknowledgement for the stylish outfits your henchmen are wearing? Ha! You wish. Another reason I primarily stuck to robberies. Those were expensive enough to pull off.
But I digress. Because downtime really was one of the real enemies of the villain. You needed a hobby with this job. Some guys tried to make villainy their hobby, but the lifestyle inevitably pulled them into a full time gig. Once you know the thrill of holding the city hostage with a giant robot, there’s no going back. So it was much better to get the hobby rather than have the hobby get you.
Fortunately, the girls already had their own things to keep them busy. Psyren had Nibbles, her social media stuff and feuds with various other influencers. Dolly had her gaming when she wasn’t building some new abomination against the laws of man and God. And Glacia? She did ice sculptures. Which not only thematically appropriate, but also helped her hone her powers.
But I probably should have asked what she’d been sculpting.
And then, one morning, I opened the curtains of my bedroom, and looked out my window.
Then shut the curtains again.
I stood there for a minute. I was hallucinating, surely. I’d been overworked, and probably the many hits to the head in my career hadn’t helped things. Maybe I was dreaming?
I opened the curtains again.
…Yep. That was definitely a giant ice statue of me rising from the fountain, in full armour, with cape frozen in dramatic billowing, my head tilted skyward towards the heavens, and a ball of ice representing the world in my lifted hand, held tight in my tyrannical grip.
Well.
Well.
Well well well.
I pushed my fingers into my eyebrows, making slow, circling motions.
Okay.
I should… probably talk to Glacia about that.
Fortunately, I didn’t need to wonder where she’d be. The back of the chalet sported the old hedge maze, which had never quite recovered from her dad’s imposed winter, and was still little more than woven branches with dead leaves on them. And the more open grounds doubled as the practice yard, where I trained with Psyren and Glacia to make sure their and my skills were at their best. Complacency got you killed in this business. Think a job is going fine and then bam! Someone aside from the ‘hero’ you’re there to fight pulled a gun. It sucks, but so it goes.
And recently, the backyard began serving a third function, serving as Glacia’s art studio.
She was in the midst of working on one as I walked out the back, and I had to slow down a bit at the sight.
Woah.
She’d been busy.
Half finished statues of ice filled a corner of the grounds. Some were just torsos, others heads, or hands, or a dozen other things. But now that I’d gotten a good look at the one just outside the chalet, I realized that they were all of me. Poses of hands, heads, body and designs. A hundred different interpretations like some sort of three-dimensional sketchbook made of glittering ice. Many of them were beginning to melt, and not far a good number of chunks were already shapeless blobs surrendering to the inevitability of summer, but others had clearly been done recently, still flashing and sparkling like immense diamonds left tumbled on the lawn.
So much ice added a pleasant coolness to the air, and I spotted Glacia easily enough. She was currently floating before what appeared to be her current piece, her face furrowed with concentration, thin rays of coldest ice flashing from her hands, moving over the structure of the sculpture like she were carving it in reverse.
“Glacia!” I called.
It took a few tries to get her attention, but when I did she positively beamed, stopping her work at once and floating down towards me. “Sir! So glad to see you. How may I serve you?”
“Yeah, hi,” I said. “Listen, I wanted to talk about what you put on the fountain.”
“Ah!” she said, landing with a flutter of her snowy jacket, her face alight with pleasure. “Thank you, sir. But I know what you’re thinking.”
“You do?” I said.
“Oh yes, sir. I was quite pleased with how it turned out, but I do recognize that my skills require much more practice before I can truly capture the imposing evil of your being.”
“…Come again?” I said.
“Oh yes, sir!” Glacia said, nodding quickly. “I do apologize, but despite my efforts to properly capture the sheer menace which you exude, I fear I have not succeeded. My skill is simply not up to the task yet to demonstrate your overwhelming presence and evil. To illustrate the glory of your supremacy! How you inspire others to kneel in fear and obeisance!”
“Uh…”
“But do not worry, sir!” Glacia suddenly said, grabbing my hands, her face firm with concentration and downright fanatical conviction. “I will succeed! If even a shred of your awe-inspiring presence can be shown in ice, I shall see it done! And though I may not have succeeded with this first attempt, tomorrow’s shall be even better!”
“Sorry, tomorrow’s?” I said.
“Oh yes, sir! The ice melts, of course, unless I maintain it. And by tomorrow I shall shatter the former sculpture and have an even more imposing image of you in place! I believe I shall have this one standing upon the skulls of your enemies. What do you think?”
“I uh…”
I tried to think of an argument, but Glacia’s eyes were so filled with excitement and a need to please I couldn’t quite push the words out. “Maybe… maybe not skulls?” I said weakly.
“No skulls?” Glacia said.
“No.”
She nodded in sudden understanding. “Ah, of course, sir. The actual heads of your enemies would be much more forceful.”
“Uh, no, I mean…”
“Hey uh, Victor?” Dolly said, her voice crackling in the receiver in my ear.
I tilted my head. Good God, if it wasn’t one thing it was another. “Dolly? Kinda busy at the moment.”
“Does that mean you’re fucking Glacia? Or is it Psyren?”
I felt my face heat. “That… no!”
“Aha! You deny it, but I know you too well, Victor!” she cackled gleefully. “But better put those pants on fast, oh evil overlord! Because I should let you know, we got a real ritzy car coming up the drive.”
I turned my head towards the chalet as if to look through the building and to the front gate. “Ritzy?”
“Oh yeah. Real rich looking car. It’s coming up near the gate. Thought you might want to know.”
Strange. Who the hell would be coming up to see me all the way out here? Aside from Carter, and Dolly already knew what her car looked like. Could it be Arman Glint? I sort of doubted that. Arman wasn’t the kind of man who came to visit you. You went to him, often in the back of a trunk.
Either way, it probably wasn’t good. “I’ll be right there,” I said.
“Sir?” Glacia said.
“Someone’s coming up the gate,” I said. “I’ve got to deal with this.”
“Of course, sir,” Glacia said. “I hope they are suitably impressed by your statue as well, meager though it is.”
‘Meager’ wasn’t what I’d call a ten foot tall ice sculpture of me, but whatever. “Well, they’ll certainly know they’re in the right place,” I said, starting off back through the chalet. “Now, let’s see who our guest is.”
“Of course, sir,” Glacia said, falling in with me at a brisk pace.
“Just say the word, Victor, and I can totally blast them off the driveway,” Dolly said, the snap of her fingers crackling through the receiver. “I rigged up this great gatling cannon in the tits of one of those mermaid statues flanking the gate, and I’ve been dying to test them.”
I chuckled. Now that would be something to see, and I loved a good ‘weapon array hidden in the classy statues’ trick. I knew there was a reason I let Dolly handle the chalet’s defences. “Another time,” I told her. “It’s probably not someone we should be disintegrating on a whim.”
“Spoilsport,” Dolly huffed.
But still, no reason not to be cautious. I slid my armour from my bracers and anklets, the ridged metal gliding over my clothes as I reached the lobby and threw open the doors, stepping out on the landing just in time to see the gate slide open and a car move up the drive. And what a car it was. The engine block took up fully half the vehicle, the cab curling at the back like something Cruella De Vil would drive. Sleek, painted red, it had a hood ornament shaped like a naked woman with horns.
No.
It couldn’t be.
I stared in growing amazement as the car ground up the gravel, gliding around the fountain and its new statue. With a squeal of rubber it came to a halt and the door popped open, a bald man in a turtleneck who looked like a bargain bin Steve Jobs scampering out of the driver’s side and to the back door, opening it with a low bow.
Holy shit. It was.
My jaw dropped as Madame Mammon made her appearance. First one leg, elegantly garbed in fishnet stocking that showcased the lush red of her calf. Then the other leg, a tight black skirt laced with gold meeting a trim jacket of black and more gold. Mammon was a tall woman, radiating presence. Assurance. Her eyes were half-hidden behind large glasses tinted orange, her hair a perfectly coiffed pile of midnight black. Her eyes were striking, her figure not fat, but curved in a way that made my pants instantly feel a size too small. From her shoulder hung a handbag, and over her was tossed a fur-trimmed jacket whose collar framed her gorgeous face.
I was floored. What the hell was she doing here? Madame Mammon was the biggest name in fashion, and that included for superheroes. I’d recently had her design Psyren’s costume, but otherwise I rarely had contact with her.
Seeing me, her face lit up and she threw her arms open wide. “Victor! Darling,” she crowed, crossing the distance between us like a warship under full steam, her arms wrapping around me, squeezing me into her chest as she kissed my cheeks.
“M-Mammon?” I gasped, only my armour saving the air from being crushed from my lungs in that embrace. “What… what are you doing here?”
“Oh darling! I simply had to see you. Simply had to! I heard you’d finally gotten a new place, and lo and behold! Here it is. And I love it, darling. Absolutely love it! We can do so very much with it. Come. Come! Let’s take a look.”
She released me, sweeping past and into the chalet. I turned to watch her, gaping for a moment before I recovered enough to quickly follow her.
“Oh darling, look at this place!” Mammon cried as she walked into the foyer, looking around its vast openness and bare walls. “It’s so ordinary, darling. So dreadfully mundane! We can’t have that. No no! First impressions are important, darling. So important!”
“Sir? You know her?” Glacia said.
Mammon twirled about with a flash of lace. “Know me? Darling, of course he does! And by the way, love the jacket, my dear. Delightful style. Simple delightful! Roger? Get my bags. They’re in the back.”
“Yes, madame,” the slim man who’d come with her said, bustling back out the doors.
“Bags?” I said incredulously.
“Of course, darling. Of course! I need a vacation, Victor. Like you cannot believe. Simply cannot believe! Ugh!” Mammon cried, throwing the back of her hand against her forehead, one leg forward, as if she were about to swoon in the middle of the foyer. “The demands, Victor. The demands they put upon me! A travesty, darling. A travesty! I needed a break, darling. And when I heard about your new place, I realized it was just what I needed, darling. Exactly what I needed! Finally, some time to be me. To be myself, darling. And how better than to help you redecorate your new lair?”
“Redecorate?”
“Oh darling,” Mammon said, suddenly twirling back to me, pressing forward and grasping my hands. “It’s not that I distrust your taste, Victor. Not at all! You have such wonderful sense of villainy. A true aficionado of menace! But this is a project perhaps beyond your scope, darling. An entire manor of evil? Darling, I’ve been dreaming of a project like this for ages. Simply ages! I was in raptures, darling! Ecstasy! The moment I heard I had near a dozen drafts lined up.”
“I… h-hold on,” I said. “I didn’t ask you to-”
“Oh, you didn’t need to, darling,” Mammon plowed on. “You didn’t need to! You’ve always been so terrible at asking for help. It’s your flaw, darling. Your one great flaw. And you need help with a project such as this, darling. It’s too big! Too huge! And you wouldn’t leave me out of it, darling. Surely you wouldn’t!”
“I-“
“And it’ll not cost you a dime, darling. Not a dime!” Mammon added with a stunning smile, as bright as the pits of hell’s inferno. “It’s my vacation, darling. My break from the odious industry. I’ll take care of everything. But of course, I wouldn’t dream of changing anything without your say so. I want you to be happy, darling. But more. I want you to be successful!”
“Successful?”
“Of course! Ah,” she said, glancing aside as a mountain of suitcases were hefted through the door. “Roger. Pile the bags over there. Good boy.”
“Yes… madame…” Roger wheezed.
I tried to focus on Mammon. Not exactly hard to do, she sucked up a lot of attention. But I really needed to regain some control of this situation.
“Mammon,” I said. “Why do you need me to be successful?”
“Why, for the opportunity, darling!” Mammon said, turning another stunning smile my way. “The chance! Didn’t I tell you, darling? The fashion business has been so painfully slow these days. Oh, I’ve plenty of work. Matchstick women desperate to wear my designs. Heroes begging me to fit them with a suit to show off those firm figures and themes. But I crave stimulation, Victor.”
“Stimulation?” I said, the word rising higher as I felt her move in closer, her leg pushing against my crotch and the unmistakeable bulge there.
“Stimulation, darling,” Mammon purred, her eyes flaring behind her glasses like pits of molten fire. “I need villains, darling. Evil! I need to costume the many menaces simply awaiting to be turned upon this world. And yet, I am denied, Victor. Denied! For to work with such foes would be to attract the law and… unwanted attention. The sort of attention I don’t need, darling. I simply don’t!”
That I could believe. Being a demon meant Mammon had to be twice as squeaky clean as anyone else. One hint that she was sacrificing babies or organizing decadent orgies and she’d have the cops, heroes, and probably exorcists all over her. Which was blatantly profiling, of course, but so it went.
“Well, I guess,” I said uneasily. “But you’ve already designed a costume for Psyren, so-“
“Oh but that’s the thing, darling. That’s the thing! If your new evil organization bears fruit, darling, then you’ll need ever so many more costumes! You’ll need one for your minions. Your henchmen. Your scandalously clad servants. For the bevy of gorgeous young things simply dying to don your colours. You’ll especially need it for your prisoners, darling. How could you have a dinner with your enemies and let them come in anything but the most revealing and tantalizing clothes? It would be a sin, darling. Simply a sin! And I know a great deal about sinning, darling. So very much!”
“H-hang on, I’m not taking heroes captive or…”
“Oh not yet, darling. Not yet! But there’s so much room for you to grow. And that will require refitting. Oh darling! I’m so happy for you!”
Before I could formulate another response her arms were around me again, pulling me deep into her bust, and not even my armour could fully save me this time. Fucking hell she was strong! And warm. Her skin absolutely radiated heat like she was packing her own personal furnace.
“Mammon!”
The delighted voice wrenched my attention back to the present and I looked up the stairs, where I found Psyren standing. The psychic was absolutely glowing with delight at the sight of the stunning demoness.
“Darling!” Mammon cried, abandoning me and turning to face the punk psychic.
Psyren fairly skipped down the steps and threw herself into Mammon’s hug. The demoness pulled her in tight, spinning the smaller woman around before setting Psyren back down.
“Oh my Goood!” Psyren squealed. “It’s so good to see you! Your costume was just the best! People couldn’t keep their eyes off me. Even more than usual!” Psyren gushed, grabbing Mammon’s hands and squeezing them in excitement.
“Oh darling, of course they couldn’t! You were wearing it. They’d not have dared look away, darling. Not have dared!”
“But what are you doing here?” Psyren said, her eyes sliding to the luggage currently piling up in the foyer.
“I’m on vacation, darling. And where better than here?”
“H-hey. Hold on. I haven’t agreed to anything yet,” I said, trying to impress some sanity on the proceedings.
“Oh so true, darling. So true! Come, we can discuss it best in private.”
Before I could answer she was already moving up the stairs. Ugh. Demons. With a twist of my lips I followed Mammon deeper into the chalet, and a man of stone couldn’t have kept their eyes off the subtle sway of her ass. Little surprise. Though she may pretend at morals, Mammon was still a demon, with all that entailed.
Fortunately, the few minutes it took to get to the residential wing allowed me to organize my thoughts a little. I cleared my throat as we reached the second floor and she began to check rooms one by one. “So… vacation, hm?” I said.
“Oh yes, darling. I simply had to get away for a while. Things are simply cooking in the business. Simply cooking! Mythics are in an utter fit, darling. Simply ready to fit! Gods and fey and demons and magical beasts have been all over the place of late.”
Were they? Interesting. I might need to keep an eye on that. When gods got itchy, things tended to go poorly. “Right. And that’s why you need to get away for a while?”
“Oh of course, darling.”
“And you couldn’t… I don’t know, give me a call to ask about staying at my place first?”
“And ruin the surprise? Oh darling! That would be far too predictable. Aha! Perfect!” she crowed, throwing open the doors to one of the bedrooms and flouncing in.
It was a large room, curtains drawn, bed made. Might have been the General’s old room, it was so extravagantly nice. Four poster bed, extra living space, the big screen tv. Dolly’s robots had been working double shifts as maids, as I understood it, so all the chalet’s rooms were at least in liveable condition.
Mammon turned about, examining the place with a critical eye. “Hmm. A little small, but it will have to do for now. Until I can get something a bit more me in here.”
“This is the royal suite,” I pointed out.
“And I am so much more than royalty, darling. So much more!” Mammon gushed as she sat down on the bedding. “Hmm. Need to change the sheets to something with more thread count, but oh yes. I think I can make this work. Of course, I wouldn’t dream of doing so without your okay, darling.”
“Ah, of course. Naturally you wouldn’t dream of coming up here in your roadster and unloading your luggage in my foyer,” I said drily.
“Of course, darling. But don’t you see,” she said, rising again, throwing wide her arms, her scarf fluttering like a banner of flame. “You need me!”
“Do I?”
“Of course! Oh Victor, darling!” Mammon said as she swept back towards me. “Don’t get me wrong! You’re a villain of wonderful quality. Of exceptional menace and malice! But darling, we can’t have you occupying a place like this without some thorough redecorating. And you’ve never needed a lair before, darling. You wouldn’t know where to begin!
“So why not use me, darling?” Mammon crooned, moving in closer, her hands resting on my shoulders, her head tilted down so her burning eyes peered over her glasses, and more than infernal flames glowed there. It was a look I knew well. A heated gaze that made my skin tingle and manhood stiffen in immediate response. “Victor, darling. I think you and I could do… so very much… together…”
I felt her tail steal around my leg, brushing me, the spaded tip grazing my thigh. Not exactly a subtle invitation, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find Mammon attractive. Anyone would. She was a creature born of temptation and made for damnation. My eyes trailed back down to her heaving breasts, straining the buttons of her jacket.
“You really have no better plans for a vacation?” I said again.
“Oh darling, do you have the slightest idea how agonizing it is for me to be the good girl?”
“You?” I actually laughed, which turned into a choking gasp as her tail brushed my cock through my pants.
“Oh yes, Victor,” Mammon crooned as her hands played up her chest, undoing the buttons that held shut her top. That got my immediate interest, the buttons coming undone one by one, giving way under the pressure of her breasts like a breaching dam. “I feel so… suffocated, darling. So confined. I don’t mind the pressures, darling. I accept them. The cost of doing business in the mortal realm. But even I, yes, I, darling, must cut… mmm… loose.”
I caught my breath as her jacket fairly burst open, shrugged off with a roll of her shoulders, baring her firm breasts. Larger than even Dolly’s, her bust was held back with a lacy bra, the nipples dark and skin as red as the rest of her.
“You don’t say?” I said, and dammit, my treacherous hands were already gliding along her hips, stroking those curves as she pressed in closer.
“Oh yes, Victor,” Mammon cooed. “The annual Davos orgies aren’t enough, darling. And I can only hold so many parties at my place. And even those have to be so uptight, darling. So neat and tidy. I barely get to break out the really fun whips. I can’t design the truly naughty things I so crave to work on. The truly villainous efforts. Sometimes, I feel like such a prisoner, Victor. So… confined. So…” Her leg eased between mine, running her thigh against my bulge, her eyes lidded, smoky and teasing. “…tight...”
I was losing this battle, and I wasn’t sure I minded. Mammon had been a good friend. Besides helping me with Psyren’s costume, she’d done the same for my own, and had always made herself available to me. Not in this way, of course, but I certainly wasn’t complaining.
And I could appreciate her argument. I had my work as an outlet for my nefarious tendencies. If I were forced not to use my powers for evil schemes, then maybe I would have gone full villain by now. And to be fair, she did make a good argument for staying. I trusted my villainous instincts, but having an actual designer give my new lair that real ‘oomph’ of quality would look good. Sure, few heroes would ever see the inside of the chalet. Or any, for that matter. If a hero popped by, they probably wouldn’t be using the front door. They’d be coming through the ceiling, powers blazing and no doubt ruining the carpets.
But atmosphere was so important in my line of work. It inspired. It gave me new ideas! And since I couldn’t just take a vacation to Europe to marvel over threatening castles, or to Brazil and check out the destroyed labs and hidden bases of lost Nazi lairs, turning the chalet into a uniquely ‘me’ lair would be handy.
And let’s be honest. Fucking Mammon right now was no longer a question of yes or no, but of how long and how hard?
“Fine,” I said, my voice a growl as my hand hooked in her skirt, tugging it down, my other cupping her breast and hefting that soft orb. “You can stay and redecorate. But we’re going to have some ground rules.”
“Mmm. I’m listening, darling,” Mammon purred.
“First off, I need to okay the changes,” I said, my thumb teasing her budding nipple, making her moan softly.
“Mmm. Of course, darling. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Secondly, no trying to entice the girls into blood contracts or buying their souls.”
“Darling! What do you take me for?”
“A demon,” I said, giving her ass a squeeze as I tugged her flush against my front.
Mammon purred, her lashes fluttering. “Hmm. Well, fair enough. And is that all, darling?”
“For now,” I said.
“Shall I sign it in blood, darling?” Mammon said teasingly.
“We’ll see,” I said, leaning down and capturing her lips.
Mammon moaned softly as our lips met, and my God she knew how to kiss. Her lips were soft and yielding, yet firm enough to respond with interest. She pressed against me, her lips parting, and holy fuck, her tongue was forked. It felt strange as it teased against my own, but far from unpleasant. Very far.
Like the heat of her body was rushing into me with that kiss, I felt my pulse thump like a drum and my body ache to feel more of this sultry demon’s pleasure. I tipped her back suddenly, laying her out on the bed, my hand abandoning her hip and instead joining the other to admire the heft of her breasts. I’ll be honest, I’d dreamed of getting my hands on these since the first time I saw Mammon, and she had hardly been shy in flaunting them. And fuck, they were everything I’d imagined they’d be. Soft yet firm. Heavy but with a perfect amount of bounce.
Fucking perfect.
“Mmm. You do… ah… enjoy those, darling,” Mammon cooed.
“Can you blame me?” I said, voice husky.
“Certainly not, darling. Far better men than you… ah… have surrendered everything just to get a glimpse of them.”
“Not surprising. I’m not a very good man,” I said.
“Oh no, darling,” Mammon crooned, her arms reached up, wrapping around my neck. “You’re all bad. And I love it.”
She pulled me down, and I kissed her again. Harder this time. The heat of her body seemed to rush into me like a fever, burning what was left of my inhibitions away. I squeezed her breasts, making her gasp, moan, her body arching beneath me, offering herself to me without hesitation. I kissed down from her lips, along her collarbone and to her neck. Mammon gasped, groaned, her leg pushing between my legs, rubbing my cock through my pants.
“Oh daaaaaarling,” Mammon moaned. “Don’t tease me… ah… more than that. Give it to me now, darling. I know… mmm… how much you want to. Don’t hold back, darling. I can take it all.”
Well, if she insisted.
I grabbed her skirt and pulled it off, baring her legs and panties as detailed and filmy as spider web. Those went too, and within seconds she was naked beneath me. I had to pull back just to admire her for a moment, soaking in the sight of a literal demon for sex under me, her large breasts heaving with anticipation, her eyes hot and lashes low with promise. Her horns pressed against the sheets and her tail lazily winding with teasing anticipation.
Damn but I loved this.
I yanked off my shirt, baring my chest. Even as I did I felt Mammon’s toes hook in my pants and boxers, pulling them down, momentarily catching on my cock before they came free. I grunted as I felt her thin tail wind around my shaft, squeezing it.
“Oh daaaarling,” Mammon purred. “Is this for me?”
“Damn right it is,” I said, planting my hands on either side of her head, leaning down anew.
“Mm. If I knew this was waiting for me, darling, I’d have done this years ago.”
“No time like the present,” I said, kissing the corner of her mouth.
Mammon purred, arching under me, and honest to God she actually sounded like a cat. “Oh darling, and what a present it is.”
Her tail tugged me closer, guiding me home without hesitation. I filled her with a stroke, her tail unwinding as she groaned, hips bucking up lovingly. Meeting my first stroke with her own, and sweet fuck it felt so good.
“Oh daaaaaarling!” Mammon moaned again as I bottomed inside her.
Holy fuck. I’d known sex with a succubus was going to be good, but this was beyond anything I’d dreamed of. I grunted, sawing into her, fucking her harder and faster. Every thrust sent her breasts bouncing. Every hilt had her clutch my back, her inner walls rippling, squeezing my cock in indescribable ways.
“Yes. Yes! Darling. Oh daaaaarling! Don’t ah… don’t stop. Give it to me, Victor. Fuck me! Fuck me like the bad boy you are. I want it. Need it! Give it to me rougher. Harder! Yes! Oh fuck, Victor! Yesssss!”
So she wanted it harder, huh? Well, I could do that. I Lifted her hips, tilting her back, driving myself down into her and the bed. Mammon cried out as the new angle hit her in ways she hadn’t felt before. Her arms clutched me, pulled me closer. She leaned in and bit me on the shoulder.
“Ah! Fuck!” I gasped, but the pain only made me thrust harder. Faster! Fucking her ruthlessly into the bed beneath us. Every impact shuddered through her. Her nails dug into my back. The heat of her body seemed to radiate through me. Fill me with a fever of lust. I had to fuck her. Had to fill this demonic bitch. Had to make her fucking scream!
“Mmm! Nnnn! Yes! Yes! Oh by the ninth pit yesssssss!” Mammon wailed, her cry ringing in my ears as she tightened around me deliciously. There wasn’t a man alive and very few dead who could have held back after that, and I wasn’t one of them.
“F-fuuuuuuck!” I gasped, thrust into her one more time, feeling the sudden rush of hot ecstasy that signaled the end, and then came.
Mammon moaned as she felt the sudden rush within her, her orgasm joining mine in a sweet haze of pleasure. I panted, leaning over her, the blissful peace of post-orgasmic bliss aching through me.
Mammon cooed under me, reaching up and stroking my cheek. “Mmm,” she hummed. “Was it… good, darling?”
“Can’t... complain,” I said breathlessly.
Mammon gave a throaty laugh and pulled me down. I kissed her again, slower now, a shiver working through me as I tasted her lips, the spiciness of her lipstick seeming mellower.
“Mmm. Then I can stay, darling?” Mammon asked as our lips parted. “And work on your… hmm… delightful home?”
“I suppose so,” I said, then added, “but I’m not signing anything in blood.”
“Oh course, darling,” Mammon giggled. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, are we ready for round two?”
I grunted as her hips rolled, and despite myself, I felt my cock growing hard again. And how often did you get to fuck a gorgeous sex demon who volunteered to redecorate your house?
Well, hopefully quite often. At least until Mammon’s vacation ended. And I was going to make sure I enjoyed every minute of it…