Jobs

Act 13 – the Medium/Exorcist Part 2

I’m not Ghostbusters. I’m a medium s***h exorcist. So don’t treat my cʊnt like it’s a ghost trap!

~ Delvina Carlisle

There are three things I realized the minute I felt something on top of me. One, it’s three in the morning, a time when spirits wander the plane and cross from the spirit world to ours. Two, I can’t move a damn muscle. The only thing I can move is my head, which is why I got to see the clock on my bedside table in the first place. Three, the thing on top of me is invisible, and it’s trying to fʊck me.

“You having trouble down there buddy?” I whisper, hating the way my voice sounded at three in the morning, because I sound like a dude. I clear my throat and swallow, “So, are you going to râpe me or what?” I ask, rather impatiently, and the ghostly entity’s response is a husky, throaty kind of moan which—I’m surprised to say—is turning me on.

All I feel is movement…for I see nothing. And the idea of not seeing brings me fear. But in a sick and twisted way the fear also heightens my arousal. The thrill of not knowing the kind of perversion that’s going to happen excites me.

Ohh God, I shiver as a big hand slides up inside my shirt. I moan like a two-dollar whôre as the fabric of my top skims the sensitive skin of my torso. My whole body ripens with anticipation as my n*****s meet the cool air, but only for a moment as I feel warm paws cover them. I can feel my spine melting in sensitivity at the touch of facial hair brushing my cleavage, hot breath from his invisible mouth reducing my bones into powder. And even if I want to squirm I can’t, for I cannot move a muscle. And not being able to move at all, only receiving this mind-numbing pleasure, is making me desperate for more, more…I want more.

Oh Priapus, you horny god of s*x and fertility. Why did you have to mate with a thousand angels from heaven? It did nothing but spawn a million nephilims. And one of them is giving me otherworldly pleasure at this very moment. Ooh, I will surely burn in hell for eons, centuries even. Why…why oh why priapic god of lust and fertility? Why did you have to plant your seed?

Oh God Almighty, forgive me. Forgive me for I want to sin. And I will sin. In my cʊnt lies the spirits of many a devil, and in its damnation I will suck this demon dry. This I will do for you, oh Lord, and for my pleasure, too, my fʊcked-up desire for pleasure.

My títs become hardened pecks of sensitivity as the demon’s cheeks brush against them, his tongue licking my cleavage up and down before moving to salve a hardened tít inside his salivating mouth. Oh God, this is bad. But the good kind of bad. The kind of bad I’m happy to welcome even if it’s three in the fʊcking AM.

The touch of a demon is ten times more potent than that of a human. And so I keen headily my wanton satisfaction, mewling as the nephilim’s tongue leaves a trail of wildfire in its wake. My arousal is coursing hot through my body, and I pant at the delicious feeling of palms groping my breasts. His strong arms I cannot see but feel, and I find that weirdly exciting to the very marrow of my bones. Aah.

I shudder as he rests his full weight on top of me, rubbing against me in a fit of desperation. And I can feel his hard erection getting wedged between my legs; making me hungry, needy, and lustful for a fʊck.

His hot breath fans my face and my heart rate spikes a little. I feel tendrils of lust stem throughout my body and all the way inside of me to my very core, making me desperate for the touch of something I cannot even see. Ooh I can feel his moans before I hear them, and it makes my blood come alive in my veins. Lust is pooling hot and heavy below my abdomen and it makes this Satanism a thing of heavenly wonder rather than hellish.

I savor the kiss of moisture below my ear and it makes me pant with need. I want to grip my hands into his hair…but alas, I couldn’t. Well, I can…but not yet. There is a perverted sense of satisfaction I like relishing from an uninvited guest. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of this as much as he does…if not more.

“Ohh Jesus. Yes, right there. Oh God,” I breathe heavily and tip my head back as something hot and pointed go up to wet my throat. I can feel his tongue sweep my chin going into my lips and I succumb. I open my mouth and invite his tongue, and my mind goes blank. I can taste the flavor of mint and peppercorns, a combined taste that tells me I’m mating with a newborn human/spirit hybrid, “Oh,” I moan as something hard digs into my abdomen. I should feel cold about this, but I find myself heating up, burning with insatiable need and the desire to be taken and penetrated in every orifice. Yes. I want him to fill me. Every hole. Everything.

I curve my neck as the kisses become more aggressive. His fingers go down to search for the touch of my n*****s and they find it, enlivening my hard títs by thumbing circles around my areolas. I can feel not just my n*****s, but my whole breast hardening and becoming erect, fighting against the padded touch of his thumbs that are rubbing down and up again. Down and up in a motion that never ceases.

I hear his moans, his desperation, and his desire to take me, mingling in the air, hovering. But it also makes me lonely; sad that I cannot see him. But I know I can. And I will. In a while. In a short while. For now I want to enjoy him, because this oddly feels like m**********n, and I’m not even touching myself. And in that glory I revel as I groan my body’s frustrations.

He’s making erotic sounds and I roll my eyes shut to the voice of his pleasure. His gurgling noises are gut-deep and manly, and it’s making me want him even more. Damn, I should fear this nephilim, because he can rip me open and pound into me long after I’m dead. And I don’t even know what he looks like. But ooh, he feels so damn right as he squeezes my breast and suckles the tít puckered at the center. I’m not usually the one having an exorcism, but I feel like I’m having one right now as I roll my eyes backwards to the blinding pleasure of having my n*****s feasted like a meal. Oh, he’s a newborn alright, for his desperation is all the evidence I need.

His hands are all over me, from my breasts, down to my hips, which he clasps and squeezes to feel the muscle. Slowly, and with a pressing need for more, he slides down my panties which are sodden and wet against my aching pudenda. This is it, I tell myself as he readies to position his throbbing gírth. I can feel the pulse of something hard digging between the crevice of my legs and I whimper, salivating with the need to get fʊcked…fʊcked hard to the core.

I close my eyes and enjoy this carnal, demonic episode. One of many I have experienced growing up. But only during my eighteenth birthday did I understand what it was all about when a nephilim—half angel, half demon—tore into my hymen, thus breaking the protection spell that held my virginity. The same thing happened to my mom when she was eighteen. The only difference is I welcomed my gift with open arms and open legs. While she…she didn’t. She detested what we are and what we stand for. She had her mother bind her powers. She wanted to do the same to me, but I refused. I wanted this. This is me. This is my purpose.

“Sacramen du ti, sephir ro mernia. Secru sofi soi entrumente,” I chant a visibility spell so I can see who this entity is who’s moving salaciously on top me, “Sepheritu, ti sephir ro mernia. So’holte sefori meritu.”

The spirit gasps as fractions of him materialize before me. And the first thing I notice are striking green eyes with licks of venom, “What is this?” he asks, confounded, “You are a witch are you, ti soi merva. Sephir ro.”

For a moment I’m captivated. He has such strong body, chiseled to angelic perfection, pale but muscled, with n*****s the color of old rose. His hair has a golden, lush texture which I finally touch with my hands. Focus, Delvina, focus I lash at myself, shaking my head. All I want to say is fʊck us instead of focus, because on top of me is probably the most handsome nephilim I ever laid eyes on, “You’re the most handsome nephilim I’ve ever seen,” I touch his face and he leans his cheek into my palm and my heart constricts, knowing that he…he has to die.

I swallow, regain my composure, and ignore his beauty as I chant, “Three times circled and thrice protected. Around my tools a shield projected. Between the worlds these items stay. Hidden, every night and day,” and as the words spill from my mouth I can feel my body regaining movement, disconnecting me from the binding dexterity of the nephilim.

His complexion is paler than I imagined as the mystical fog recedes to reveal his magnificent form. He gathers me in his arms as his emerald eyes assess me like I’m some creature he has never seen before, “You’re an enchant,” he tells me, smiling at the thought that he’s going to score what his people consider ‘extra terrestrial’ for I’m a different brand of woman, in a league of my own from all the other girls he might have already bedded as a lustful demon.

I bind my arms around his muscular back and wrap my legs to pull him closer. He gasps at my action, realizing how my binding spell turned the tables. I’m now the predator. No longer the prey, “I’m more than that,” I say, “And you’re going to fʊck me till one of us dies.”

He shakes in wanton anticipation and I find it cute. Such a waste of a man I think to myself as I drink-in his handsome features. Oh! I gasp as he sinks into me, and as he slides himself fully in I whine in pain, realizing that no matter how many times I fʊck a demon, it will always be painful. Because they are big, huge, and much larger than werewolves…and they are warm…warm…very warm…hot…volcanic even, because they can alter their bodies’ temperature as they please.

I cry my pain as he thrusts into me, and I can feel my inner walls combusting, my flesh melting to the rapid thrusting of a handsome devil, “I’m coming,” I cry into his ear and it prompts him to speed, pulling me higher, pushing me ever closer to the precipice of my imminent, hot orgasm.

Can I really do this? I ask myself as I listen to his sadistic growls, his delicious erection plowing inside me, burrowing my vâgina and sensitizing my clít. Can I end him just as I did the others? I contemplate as we fʊcked.

With a heavy heart I make a decision, knowing that I have to suck this demon dry and push him inside me, trap him in my cʊnt. I can feel the light shining through me and I wrap my body even tighter around the poor nephilim, “As below, as it is above. As I stir this, I bring love. Orange sweet, anise to warm. No one will be hurt or harmed,” I cry hot tears as he rams into me, lost and grunting his pleasure, not realizing that I’m about to destroy him, “As my own love gleams and glows. So my lover’s heart will slow,” I choke and he notices what is happening, but he does not give it mind. He whispers into my ear that it’s okay, and that he accepts his fate, knowing that he is able to mate with an enchant in his very last day, “W-when he s-sees my hand and shoulder. His sweet love will k-k****e, and smolder,” I come and he erupts, bellowing his tumultuous orgasm. And as the light shines from my hands and body, he looks at me, crying his freedom before the light envelops him and disappears into my cʊnt…for all eternity.