Ah Satan

Her ass lent itself to his deepest since of self satisfaction in aeons. It was molded by his very own palms...intimacy woven into the smooth flesh inciting a rosy blush that could only be appreciated from an angle somewhere under and behind her. She was perfection... according to his own image with a few upgrades.
Where his sex was hard..unyielding...a tool...a projectile...a weapon.
Hers was soft..acquiescing...pliable...interwoven and ...a weapon.
Her hair made of the flayed and shredded down of angels. Processed on a loom that had recycled martyrs and saints and God's chosen ones alike. Producing robes and lacy under things...tethers and ties. Items of adornment that were then sacrilegiously layered with the gemstone like brilliance found below the feet of man. He found it humorously that the insipid race gazed stupidly at the heavens promising blood sweat and tears...wishing on twinkling masses made of the very fire and brimstone that he offered them for doing nothing more than following their DNA. Sin. Pleasure. Hedonistic pursuits that did not require that you keep your wants secret.
Star light...star bright.... Satan's fire and lust incite...
He hummed as he turned her head..this way...then that. Looking for imperfections that he knew he would not find. Her skin...brown...warm...glowing with shame at who she was but trembling in excitement at the thought of who she could be.
Her eyes were opaque...colorless...but not soulless. He had yet to make this decision. The options were endless...and yet the perfect tint still eluded him. Lush green ..representing the sweet carpet of clover...little lucky flowers growing over ancient corpses buried three and four deep...death by potato famine. Or a welcoming brown... for burnt umber in muddy water,,,and homage to her birthplace... for she was a creation of the under earth. A harlot's violet for the slut she could be...or honey colored for the better whore she would make. He settled on a unique blend...eyes that would reflect the need of the gazer. He was satisfied with his decision...this grrl could not be held to one window of the soul. Stain glassed eyes forged in violent heat. She herself was a fire that burned silently...invisibly...without indicators that would set little white battery powered alarms on high alert. At least until it was too late and all that was left was water logged destruction. The final touch would be her scent.... It was a game after all and the bait must be sensed to be pursued.
As he finished and smelled in the musky sweetness of her he mused...Yes...her ass was still his favorite...cupping the rounded cheeks incestuously with his palms...squeezing gently as her flesh sizzled in his grasp...whispering her name into her...as she gasped in life and looked at him with hunger and thirst...and whispered back... Daddy?
Natasha....he sighed...
　
Ah Satan...the raspy voice of God barely audible.
This abomination would be a weapon of mass destruction...and he had grown bored with the masses eons ago.
God begrudgingly admitted.....She was lovely. He had a certain sense of misplaced creative pride. After all.... the palms that produced that wonderful little piece of flesh..were merely replicas of Satan's own creator. Almost feeling her flesh in his own hands.. God flexed his fingers...stared at his palms still stained with scars of metal stakes and wooden crosses...and closed them again...Yes..he agreed...Satan....her ass was perfect.　
She unwrapped her ridiculously long lean legs from the grrls more round and considerably shorter ones. She smiled...remembering how just hours before she had drove the grrl to the brink of submissive pleasure using her own insecurities as a variable cattle prod. Natasha had spent hours before allowing the grrl her release ensconced in side bars about how she loved her "fleshy" thighs and her "soft womanly" abdomen. All comments were strategically placed...whispered at opportune moments and hissed in the heat of coitus battle. The grrl was not fat. She was Rubenesque. She would never embrace these things about herself...she would always suffer from a certain self-loathing. Which is another reason Natasha picked her as her sacrificial hell bound vacationer.
The grrl rolled over...purring in her sleep. Natasha placed a sweet kiss against her warm neck..lightly...lingering too long and her lips would scald the creamy of her peaches and cream complexion. The grrl would sleep for a bit longer. Long enough to forget the details of her haunting hour lover. But not so long as to completely erase the mental divets made by plunging too harsh words into too soft parts of her psyche.
"mmm..good morning"....."omg..my head hurts"
"too much tequila?"
"too much headboard and too little oxygen"
"oxygen?"
"I cant breath... mattress."
"your own fault..I told you keep your mouth closed."
"actually what you said was "shut up bitch and take it"...hardly the same thing"
"I'm sorry"
"for calling me a bitch?"
"no...for calling you a bitch and not awhore..I know you prefer it to bitch
"I also prefer air to mattress fluff"
"you prefer to cum on my command...that can hardly happen if I don't withhold some kind of motivation"
"can it be food next time..."
"sure...since you cant breath mattress fluff...maybe you can digest it."
The sweet grrl smiled softly.
Neveah would be Natashas patsy....her own little Jesus. Her beginnings a modern day mimicry of the greatest martyr in the world's history. Naveah too was born of dirty secrets, well told well kept lies and urban legends. Her inception was of a man and a harlot...as was his. All though Neveah's father...Pastor Elyon was certainly not Joseph-like. For one...Pastor E would have never believed conception bullshit. Everyone knew the Angel of the Lord always wore a condom.
Selling sin-remover was an art and Pastor Elyon had the perfect sales pitch. Only he called it his "testimony". Of days spent drunk and disorderly..of drugs and booze. Women and men. There was no story he could not top...no sin he had not committed...no unearthly notion he did not own the rough draft to. He was the way..the truth and the light...for a small price. Tithing was ingenious. Who wouldn't give a mere 10% to get the best seat in the best venue of the hereafter. He was God's opener for the big day. He often thought of God in that sense..connected to him. The righteous dynamic duo. He actually wore a T-shirt that said... God Plus Me equal a holier trinity. Jesus had been usurped by a bad toupee and and nauseating southern accent.
As he pulled himself free of the some odd 12 arms and legs slumbering on top and beneath him...his mind went his own of sin incarnate...Naveah....now where had that little whore gotten off to? Morning service started in an hour...and she was to be the feature performer.
　
Smirking, Natasha could only imagine his look of horror when Pastor E's little grrl announced her coming out standing in front of the television cameras and bleating sheep all jockeying to put their "investment" into the real estate developement of heaven directly into Pastor E's hands. When Neveah would stand before their God and their judge and juries and tell the world that her soul belonged to Jesus' hardened sacrificed body...but that her clit was owned by Natasha's hardened fingers and pointed tongue. In a Christian world where "man shall not lay down with man".... her heart could only go pitter patter over sopranic voices and upward lilts. That her womb belonged to a person that would never have the ability to inseminate it. Neveah was a special grrl...she had access to a public forum to air her downfall. The coming out party would be televised..across the wealthiest nation in the world... a nation with the ability to invoke Christianity in forests inhabited by the gods of voodoo before god was even a concept. A sect that overthrew devoured and shat out discord and non-believers. their numbers were strong...greed flourished in hoards.
Once Neveah was denied forgiveness for her perversity...she would become Natasha's poster child for a preferable hereafter. The masses would witness a loving...accepting...empathizing entity for the damaged, addicted and perverse. Rather than a punishment...the promise of living eternity in hell would be a boon to a lifetime of sin. Hell had gotten a bad rap for far too long. Natasha was here as an ambassador. The holier than thou crowd would have to consider it as an option. The allure of living without filters and boundaries only to spend life after death at Club Med for hedonist. Yes...this was the answer to the "right now" generation. Not comatose happiness with a harp accompaniment.
No..the believers would turn their eyes and hearts to a more lucrative afterlife. God was offering an art museum tour...Natasha would offer window shopping in Amsterdam. Hell...More than a vacation. Hell...where lust is unbound and allowed to run wild and free. Hell....where murderous thoughts and sexual violence was accommodated, celebrated and rewarded. Amenities befitting royalty and exclusive enough to cause a rabid run for limited tickets. The brochures practically wrote themselves.
Natasha was not born of violent coupes or bloody battles. She was raised in a consumer environment. She was educated in marketing ploys and trickery. Her mission...to turn a phrase..to turn a complete race of being against the one thing that in their short history had been a constant. No one wants to go to Hell..and everyone is driven to sacrifice all for a small plot of heaven.
She laughed...imagining angry drivers pulled over on hot pavement with broken bumpers and dented morning meetings. Screaming...cursing... "really...you didn't see me ...seriously...blind as a what??...dumb as a what?? oh yeah..oh yeah... you .. go to Heaven!"
Heaven was the next thing to being a celestial step child and its foster parent..God...was about to lose his accreditation.
　
　
　
Naveah...sweet Naveah...would be the prophet. She would be Moses with the stone tablets crudely inscribed with the 7 deadly sins of opportunity.
She would foretell stock market crashes and rises. She would prophesied scientific discoveries that would rock the world. Cures for the deadliest of sinful activities...pills to repair torn flesh and fragmented minds. The wages of sin are hell before death. The pay off is hell.
It was time to get dressed for the big announcement...Sunday best and shiny pumps.
But being Satan's progeny worked against punctuality sometimes...before Natasha was a servant of daddy's...she was a slave to her pussy...
Natasha rolled back toward the grrl..running her fingers down her ample arms. Her nails leaving tell tale white scratches that would eventually turn blood red. Naveah stirred...pressing her ass back against Natasha's pelvis. Grinding..pushing...settling into the small alcove created by Natasha's spooning stance. Sliding her hand up Naveah's back...to her neck...fingers massaging and squeezing the back of her head...sliding around to the front of her throat. Manipulating skin and sinew more tightly...pressing against her ass more insistently.
Neveah responded with a sleepy whimper and a slight gasp when the air flow became more restricted and Natashas hand was shoved aggressively between her legs. The entry was flawless. The canal was moist and slick. Likely leftover from the night before...but leftover grrl cum was a staple of a sinner's continental breakfast.
Her hand tightening and releasing Naveah's throat and windpipe in time with her own fingers sliding deftly in and out..up and down...in a persignar motion...the sign of the cross never felt so sweet until it is made over a hard clit in lieu of a servant's heart.
Neveah moved in rhythm to Natashas ministering's. Moving her hips left to right ...down up ...a kiss against her neck. It was a perfect catholic coupling without the genuflection. That would come later. Neveah would kneel before her maker...before her Goddess and would worship her properly. But for right now...her job was to respond...to motivate...to yield to the woman that could help her find release. To allow her flesh...to be marred...her skin rubbed raw...her nipples pinched between small clasps for hours on end. So that the feathery kisses would rob the wounds of their sting...the fingertip caresses would coat the raging skin with sweet thoughts...so that she orgasmed immediately when the clasps were removed and little blood red nipples returned to their amber color.
These thoughts were fleeting...but were decoy enough to allow her to breath in when she could and out when her clit was pinched tightly. Bucking frantically at Natashas demanding thrusts...pressed between demanding fingers and hard bone..Natasha's physical prowess was enough to satisfy...but mere satisfaction was not her game. Her whispery insults...her insinuations about the denial of any physical intimacy on Naveahs part...and yet on' Natasha's maiden voyage into Neveahs moistness..there neo tight barrier...no flap of unbroken flesh to puncture....no hymen.
Neveah had given her plausible excuses...reasons...physical anomalies..hymens are like appendix..what we do not need our body will sometimes not bother to produce. Natasha continued firing questions at Neveah... questions that Natasha had no reason to believe Neveah could answer...or would answer. Shaming questions of quiet masturbatory activities...reminding Neveah of long lost memories...experiments with a particularly favorite cousin......midnight giggling during overnight stays.... and her cousin's special type of "cuddling " ...cuddling that included her fingers in Neveah's panties and hot moist kisses on her cheeks. How could Neveah have known...all of her dark deep secrets...seeping thru orgasmic uttering...made out loud when she was at her most vulnerable.
Natasha wasn't happy with the mere confession...she wanted a re-enactment.
:is this how she held you?:...pressing hard against Neveah
:no..I held her...and not nearly this well":..Neveah taking the top surprised Natasha...
"You probably did it decently enough for a young inexperienced grrl"
"there was nothing decent about what I did to her"  Neveah gulped at Natasha's insistent fingers.
"indecent enough then?"
"it wasn't really good enough to be called indecency."
"good enough to be called ....naughty?"
jNeveah pushed back against the naught feelings Natasha was injecting intside her via her fingertips.
"did she cum?"..the question pushing neveahs own orgasm into an eminent and very real moment
"ummm..." she fought for words as urgently as she fought against Natasha's fist... " I'm not sure..."
"how could you not know?"
"we...we ....we were being quiet"...she hissed thru teeth clenched to ward off an all too soon climax
"you only tell if your cumming...when you are screaming?"
"no...sometimes I scream when I'm not really cumming..."
"is that what you did for her...screaming orgasms?" .....Natasha pressing into her further than she had ever gone with her fist balled into phallic symbol.
Neveah cried ...the words filtered thru salty tears..... "she wasn't interested in my orgasm...or hers for that matter...she liked kissing"  She was proud of herself for the complete sentence and for her ability to accommodate her Daddi's fist.
"well...eating pussy is pretty advanced for an naughty hugger..."  Natasha pulled her fist back to the outer edge of the tight hole.
"not pussy..my lips"... Neveah whimpered at the void left gaping open.
"so who decided kissing would lead to fucking?"... Natasha shoved her hand back inside ...this time there was to acclimating period.
:it was a negotiation... made over Barbies and Oreos...I get to touch you...you get to kiss me..."  the scream was loud...piercing...and covered in grrl jism.
"how long did it last?"
Neveah interrupted her..."I think I am going to.."

"Don't even think about it....uncermoniously removing her hand and pulling her body from Neveah's
Neveah caught her breath... "the kissing?"
"the touching"...reaching around pinching already battered nipples...
"long enough"...she winced
"long enough..for?"....she twisted
"for me....me to ...learn to cum"...her body tightening around the pain in her blood red aereolas
"I thought you said you didnt know?"...twisting the other direction
"I didn't know about her....but I was really sure about me"...she hiccuped in pain.
"did you kiss her while came?"...her hand snaking back between bruised thighs
"no..it wasn't her turn.."    her voice traililng off
"Daddi..please..I need to..."  the lines of physical contact from the incestuous memory and the heat of the moment blurring...

　
Natasha pushed  her onto her back..positioning her head between her thighs..slick and wet...
Plunging her tongue inside the salty flesh ...she peered up at Neveah...
I guess its my turn?
Neveah could only nod in agreement.
Natasha turned her attention back to Trojan horse of her plan...the way to Neveahs
heart..was definitely thru her clit.
　
　
　
　
　
Natasha had not heard from God for centuries.
Had not felt the tingle of his hand attempting to white wash her thoughts.
Nor had she sensed the pull to come to him...to shun her darkness and embrace his light. He was after all her grandfather...for all intents and purposes.
He wanted her near him...but she could keep her dark soul. He had stopped counting saved souls three days after his namesake was butchered. No...it wasn't soul saving. It was simply an effort to avoid more work for him. The more hell bent a race becomes..the more hell like their environment becomes. The landfills become over burgeoned with the bodies of the innocent and evil alike. The people inundate him with prayers..begging...pleading for him to fix something he could not even Gerry rig.
The despair never stopped and with Natasha at the helm of Satan's ship...the voices would only multiply. No...seducing Natasha to his side was merely good housekeeping. This grrl was becoming quite frustrating...and time consuming. When he engineered the fairer sex he never thought it would come to this. He really had only created women for two purposes. To procreate and induce orgasm. Not necessarily in that order. Natasha was making him second guess that decision. Although...her ability to induce orgasm...was above reproach.
God wondered again...where in the hell is Satan?????