------------------------------------------------------------------------
WARNING: This text file contains material of an adult, explicit,
possibly VIOLENT sexual nature. If you are uncomfortable reading
material of this kind, please delete this file immediately. Under
no circumstances is this file to be read or poessessed by persons
under 21 years of age.
------------------------------------------------------
Bugged (M/F, demon, incubus, snuff)
by Byir bar Qayin
(formerly known as Liam an Scribhneoir)
"And they worshipped the dragon which gave power unto the beast:
and they worshipped the Beast, saying, who is like unto the beast?
who is able to make war with him?" [Revelation 13:4]
Barefoot in Levis, white dress shirt fully unbuttoned exposing his
perfectly sculpted chest and six-pack abs, and a glass of
Glenkinchie scotch in his left hand, Sam opened the door to his
motel room to reveal his "date". She was slender, stood three
inches shoter than he, and had long chestnut hair, brown eyes,
and an oval face. She wore no make-up. She was exactly as he had
ordered.
"Hi, I'm Anne." she said as she smiled.
He smiled back at her for having remembered the name he'd asked
her to use, and began subtly exuding sex pheromones."Please, come
in I'm Sam. Would you like a drink? All I have is scotch, but
it's ~very~ good scotch: 25 year old lowland Laphroig."
"No, thanks." she said as she entered and he shut the door behind
her. Visible on the bed was an open make-up artist's kit. "I
thought you requested no make-up."
"That's right - no make-up on your face. I plan to use body paint
to add some temporary tattoos to your body before we get down to
business. Do you have a problem with that?" His voice remained
soft and low as his eyebrows peaked with inquisitiveness.
She laughed. "No, but time started when I walked through the door."
Sam took a sip of his scotch, and replied "Oh, I know. You're
far from my first social companion." Hegrinned at her. "Now,
please, take off all your clothes, and sit on that." He motioned
toward a stool.
She didn't hesitate to do as requested, and Sam began immediately
but skillfully applying make-up to effect three tattoos. While he
worked, he deepened the pheromones he was exuding, and engaged
in small talk, which he personally despized: yes, he was rich;
yes, he ran his own business; yes, he drove a sports car; yes,
he worked out; no, he wasn't married; no he hadn't a girlfriend;
etc.
Eventually Anne commented "You're handsome, educated, employed,
have a good body, and are reservidly polite. I wouldn't think that
you'd have any problems finding women."
He chuckled "Handsome?", turned his face up to her and grinned.
"I suppose I am. It's because I ~don't~ have trouble attracting
others that paying someone for sex arouses me."
Anne's eyebrows went up. "Really? What about paying for sex
excites you?"
"That my money buys it for me: I can fuck their mouth, cunt, and
ass, but never have to see the person again."
"That's ... well, sorta sad, isn't it?"
Sam didn't looked up from his artwork. "Not really. For me, it's
efficient and uncomplicated: no pretense of being interested in
their dreams or that I'm in love with them at all, no nasty
breakup when they realize I don't love them and that I'm not
monogamous. Plus, I pay them an agreed-upon price rather than
some outrageous portion of my personal wealth just because I
stuck my cock in one of their holes." He downed the last of his
glass of scotch.
"And I'm all done with the tattoos. Stand up, please, and turn
around. Very nice. Go take a look at yourself in the bathroom
mirror while I put away the brushes and paints." Doing as he
suggested, she saw on her left side, from hip to ribs, the perfect
image of a thick link of chain with three brightly-colored flowers
woven in; on her right shoulder blade, a simple black eighth-note;
on the inside of her right forearm, the name "Constantine" in
black script.
She walked from the bathroom, and asked "Who's 'Cawn-stan-tyne?",
mangling the name.
"Constantine was a 4th century emperor of the Roman Empire who
converted to Christianity." At her frown, he added with a shrug
"We all have fetishes particular to our own psyche. That's
another reason I like paying whores: I don't have to explain
things so they can understand." and ramped up his pheromone
level even more as he stepped closer to her. He smiled as her
pupils unvoluntarily dilated, and thought {{Got ya!}}.
She tried to kiss him, but he stepped back beyond her reach
before she could touch him. He sat on the stool, and slowly
removed his shirt and jeans, leaving him stark naked. When
he stood up, she could see that, though he was extremely
well hung -- definitely in the upper 25% of mankind with
regards to muscle definition and cock size. He seemeds the
sexist man she'd ever met.
"Lie suppine on the bed and spread your legs." After she did,
he crawled on top, positioning himself so that he was holding
himself on his fingers and toes, the purple glans of his cock
barely touching her labia. "Say 'No, this is wrong.'"
"No, this is wrong." she parroted without real emotion.
"Try to say it with some emotion." Her second attempt was much
better. Sam thrust fully inside her, causing her to grunt in
pain. "Say, 'Stop! It hurts.'"
"Stop! It hurts." This time, there was a definite realistic
element to her repetition. Sam grinned, knowing that he'd
done as planned: rammed the head of his cock directly against
her cervix. Her pain was real.
"Does it, now?" He pulled back and immediately thrust back
inside her."But, Anne, it's what you really want, isn't it!?
Say 'Yes, Jesus. Yes!'"
"Yes, Jesus. Yes!" Anne echoed, surprised at how much she was
actually aroused -- something that seldom happened with
clients. What followed could not be mistaken for "making
love" as he trust violently into her again and again,
changing angles to make it as painful as possible for her.
She was also surprised at how close to orgasm his pile-driver
assault was bringing her.
Eventually, he slowly. "Say 'Take me, Sammael!'"
"Take me Samuel!" she repeated breathily.
"Wrong, Not 'Samuel'!" he barked angrily. "Listen:
'Take me, Sam-mah-ell!"
"Take me, Sam-mah-ell!"
He gave a final vicious thrust, triggering her own orgasm a
split second before his own. He grunted and growled as he
pumped copious spurts of his seed deep inside the woman.
Finally spent, Sam rose back up on his hands and peered
deeply in her eyes before tilting his head to look down to
where his cock was still imbedded in her. "Well, look at
that." he said in a voice well-practiced to seem genuinely
surprised. He replaced the hyper-masculine sex pheromones
that he had been exuding with ones that would heighten her
fear.
Anne lifted her head up so that she could per at her cunt
to see what he was looking at, and frowned before her eyes
grew wide. There were oily black roaches slipping out of
her cunt around his cock. She snapped her face back up to
look at Sam's.
On his was the most demonically evil grin imaginable.
"Surprise." he said before his face and body dissolved
into a writhing mass of black cockroaches.
She tried to scream as the mass fell on her, but roaches
filled her mouth and squirmed down her throat, clogging
it. They climbed all over her body and into every
orifice: they clogged her nose, and ears, and squirmed
into her vagina, between her buttocks and up her anus.
Only her eyes were clear of them.
In a panic, she rolled off the bed onto the floor. She
struggled to her feet, digging in her mouth and throat
to try to let herself breathe, but any roaches she
dislodged were replaced by others. She had no sooner
gained her feet than she fell backward across the bed.
In a wild panic, she writhed and thrashed ever more
violently, but nothing helped: she was still completely
covered in squirming roaches.
Gradually, her motions grew slower and weaker. She tried
to whimper, but he could make no sound. Finally, she lay
still. Her last sight was of a roach drinking a tear as
it that slipped from her left eye. She was dead,
suffocated by the roaches.
The roaches streamed from her corpse and all its
orifices: some of them stopped long enugh to consume
every trace of makeup and paint from the corpse before
joining the growing mass beside it on the bed; and
those inside her consumed all the fluids Sam had
deposited there. Suddenly, the mass coalesced into Sam,
naked, lying on his right side, and smiling at the
corpse.
"Was it as good for you as it was for me?" he asked
in a sweetly sincere voice before rolling on his back
and howling with laughter.
Looking at the bed-side clock, he slid out of bed,
pulled a suit carrier from the closet, and dressed
in a simple but formal tux, tux shirt, bow tie, and
patent shoes. He bent over Anne's corpse. "Too bad
you weren't really Anne, but my brother might be
upset if I suffocated that adulterous cunt that he
calls his wife." he whispered in her ear. "Too bad
you didn't know I was a devotee of the dark arts."
The corpse fit easily in the suit carrier which
itself fit easily in the trunk of his auto, a fact he
knew from similar past dates with other whores. He'd
dispose of the corpse later somewhere it wouldn't be
found -- there were thousands of places from which to
choose.
END *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
The author does not condone abuse or illegal activities.
This story is meant as an erotic fantasy not real life.
Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real life" would be
guilty of major crimes and old spend many years as a
convict in prison.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*=*-*