Excerpt for Bodies (Cult of the Butterfly 18) by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

This page may contain adult content. If you are under age 18, or you arrived by accident, please do not read further.

Bodies (Cult of the Butterfly 18)

By Paul Smith.



Bodies (Cult of the Butterfly 18)

Paul Smith

Copyright 2017 Paul Smith

Smashwords Edition.

This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to people, places or events is purely coincidental, and bears no malicious intent.

ISBN: 9781370725120

For more information on my work, and to keep up to date with new releases please follow me on Twitter @tattooloverboi or check out one of my galleries:





'No one deserves this...'


Author's note:

All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

Anyone who enjoys this and wants to keep up to date on future releases (or who fancies trying some of my other work) should check out my galleries on Smashwords or DeviantART:

Thank you.

Devan stood surrounded by corpses.

“Yes, I’m quite sure they’re dead.”

Alex’s face on screen was the picture of disappointment. “Not even a spark?”

“It’s a morgue Alex, I’m fairly certain this is the expected state of play.”

“But I was promised!”

“Yes, well, I hate to tell you kid, but it seems to me you’ve been had.” He fingered the wrist of the body next to him absently, a middle aged guy in reasonable shape (or at least he had been), lying cold and pale on the steel gurney. He was one of a dozen such bodies, victims of a freak electrical discharge at a local substation. The tip off had come in from Merran, whose current day job was at PanElec’s down town offices. The young uber queen had friends in the emergency services who’d apparently assured him some of the victims were still ticking. Personally Devan had been dubious, this selfsame contact being the pill head who was the source of Merran’s cheap drugs (surely the only reason Alex tolerated him), but one did not second guess the Queen on such matters.

It had been a simple matter for Devan to finger his contact within the SPD, gaining access to the morgue where the bodies had (correctly it appeared) been routed.

“Well, we’ll just have to manage with what we’ve got for now,” Alex conceded with a sigh.

Devan nodded. “Looks like. You sure you don’t want any of these for spare parts?”

Alex pursed her lips. “Pan over them again…?” Devan obliged, switching to the rear camera and panning his phone slowly across the room “...At the back,” Alex said. “Next to the sink.”

Devan peered round the side of the screen and nodded. “I did think you might.”

Alex shrugged. “Girl can’t help being predictable.” She smiled. “Pick another as well, any will do. Can’t have it getting bored while I’m busy.”

Devan nodded. “I’ll have a look. Will you send the boys?”

“They’re already on their way.”

“Tell them to meet me at the service elevator. I’ll need help.”

“Of course.” Alex leant forward to break the connection. “See you this evening.”


The screen went blank, leaving Devan alone with the dead. He rubbed his arms, shivering. “Gods, it’s cold in here.” Turning, he surveyed the room speculatively, eyes drifting back eventually to the corpse next to him. “You’ll do I suppose. Best of a bad bunch and all that.” Glancing over his shoulder, he grabbed the head of the gurney in question and manoeuvred it to the door. Job done, he went to retrieve the second, a process that required some careful manipulation of the surrounding trolleys in the confined space. Once both bodies were lined up to his satisfaction he quit the room, taking the stairs two at a time down to the underground car park, where Alex’s lackeys should shortly be arriving.

Coven that evening promised to be a contentious affair, and Devan spent the later part of the day prevaricating over how to approach the night. Alex was planning one of her floor shows, as a prelude to taking the next step along the road they now followed. The trouble was, Devan couldn’t decide how this would go down with their newest recruit. He wasn’t confident he knew Sebastian well enough yet to judge the guys reaction, when confronted with the coven’s endgame in such black and white terms. Far better surely to work up to the subject with the boy, rather than thrust it wheezing and leering in his face.

But Alex would not be dissuaded. With her the cake tin was always bottomless. She was an old fashioned Queen like that.

A variety of nightmare scenarios had played out in his mind, from Seb slipping up in some minor fashion that later proved fatal to the boy loosing control completely to the thing living inside him. This later particularly had started to become something of a recurring nightmare for him, watching as the kid advanced through the room wreathed in billowing wings of fractal light, face locked in a rictus sneer as twisted hands whipped out, eviscerating anyone nearby in clawing echoes of blue fire.

The highwayman even put in the occasional appearance during these re-runs, though to be fair Devan considered this to be at the extremity of possibility. If there was one thing the infernal did not do it was tip their hand, and any appearance on the Admiral’s part would do just that. From what he understood of the current political situation in the Pit it would be a mistake that proved as close to fatal as the damned could expect.

Even Rus’ antics hadn’t been able to cheer him up, true testimony of quite how dire his mood was. The chihuahua had eventually given up, coming to sit with him on the rear porch step in the sort of companionable silence only canines and the elderly seemed capable of.

After two hours of avoidance behaviour he eventually bit the bullet (or snorted it, more precisely), rounding things off with half a speedwagon from his stash. He’d briefly debated diamonds, but decided the evening was going to be quite strange enough without psychotropics thank you very much.

A little buzz. That’s what this evening needs. Something to smooth the edges.

Devan had always been a firm believer in his people skills, a belief that was reinforced time and again by his successes in the business world and his conquests on the scene. And he’d been taking drugs for long enough to know how they affected him, how they changed that dynamic, and when this might improve things for the better.

Need to get through tonight without anyone loosing their rag, myself included. If that means I need to be a little wankered for the occasion, so be it.

He just hoped Alex didn’t take too much offence. She could be surprisingly snippy, if she thought people weren’t taking things suitably seriously.

He approached Phant as twilight set in. The Glades were quiet, just a few people outside each of the bars. A lone figure waited outside the club’s entrance, and it was only as he got closer he realised he knew the girl in the cocktail dress.


The young drag queen smiled, false eyelashes lowering briefly above a smile just the right side of filthy. “I’ll be sticking with that name, yes.”

Devan nodded, surveying the outfit. “Been shopping I see.”

My Mum always says ‘if you’re going to do something, do it properly’.”

Woman after my own heart.”

Seb met his gaze candidly. “Oh I doubt that.”

Devan nodded, tongue and drugs momentarily deserting him.

Well...” Seb examined the beautifully lacquered nails of one hand briefly, offered a brief smile. “I see you’ve gone for your signature rock god look.”

Devan surveyed himself, shrugging. “‘If it’s not broke, don’t fix it?’”

Seb laughed, tension seeping away with the sound.

Devan swallowed, taking courage in his hand. Be direct. The last thing this situation needs is another layer of intrigue. “Have fun the other night with Ilian?”

Seb met his gaze again. Devan was careful to keep it guileless. “It was… entertaining, yes.” She shook her head, smiling again. “I suppose I shouldn’t have expected the Queen to keep her mouth shut.”

There’s something she’s not saying… But Devan couldn’t decide what it might be. Ilian was a surprise in bed, but not enough to warrant the lingering surprise lurking behind Seb’s eyes. He shrugged, hoping to convey something of his nonchalance on the subject. “She’s nothing if not mercenary.”

So I’m learning,” Seb replied, nodding. Devan fancied he saw a flash of understanding there.

Seb gestured towards the club. “Well, shall we?”

Last chance mate… But Devan held his resolve. Nodding, he placed a hand on the small of Seb’s back (which earned him a small smile), as the two of them proceeded towards the side door that served as entrance to the coven’s stronghold.

They entered to find the party had started without them, the club’s sound system a dull boom like waves on a distant shore. Seb glanced at Devan, who shrugged, gesturing that they should make their way in. The young drag queen set off down the corridor, past the arrangement of fetishes and other arcana Alex had collected over the years. As they entered the main bar area Seb’s pace slowed a second before continuing on past the twin guardians that stood to either side of the staircase.

Keep it together kid, Devan urged silently, there’s worse to come tonight, and I was hoping to avoid the future with the spectacular light show.

They descended towards the noise, the bass slowly giving up the rest of the track to audibility. Sweeping synths accompanied shimmering cascades of guitar, the vocal line diving in and out of view.

Kill Schuster. You have done your homework Alex.

Seb had also realised what was playing, back straightening, stride becoming more purposeful as she took the final steps down to the floor. Judging from the beaming look on Alex’s face Seb had judged her reaction perfectly. Watching the two of them come together was like seeing two society women from a very strange alternative past meeting after some arduous separation.

Darling, you look ravishing.”

Seb offered a coy little curtsey, flashing a grin at Drew, who was stood to the Queen’s left. Carlton nodded to Devan, the two of them exchanging a kiss before Merran swooped in to claim him. The young uber-queen was resplendent in her usual kimono and toga dress, beard stippled with glitter. Devan was not a fan of the whole bearded lady thing, though he was forced to grant that some people carried it off very well. Released finally from Merran’s wandering grip he nodded to Kacey, who was not this evening rocking a frock.

What happened to you?”

Kacey shrugged apologetically. “Came straight from work. No time for glam.”

Devan nodded understanding. “You ought to go in dolled up.”

I’m sorry, have you met most of the civic sector?” Kacey rolled his eyes heavenward. “I mean, can you imagine?!”

Devan chuckled. “Fair point.” He pointed to Kacey’s drink. “Want another?”

Sure.” Kacey rotated the bottle to display the label. Devan nodded, turned to gesture with one hand over Alex’s shoulder at Seb. She gave a discreet thumbs up, attention never leaving the senior drag queen.

Devan made his way to the bar, where Fistral stood watching the proceedings. As always the man’s very presence sent a little thrill through his groin. Boar was one of the few people who shared his predilection for certain sexual practices quite as thoroughly as he did. Brief flash of the man knelt behind him, arm buried up to the elbow in his arse made his balls twitch in anticipation. He still had the video file somewhere, buried amongst his (extensive) archive of home made porn.

Good week?” Devan asked, stepping behind the bar.

The club owner looked up, peering over the rims of his glasses. “Devan, I didn’t see you come in.”

Devan grinned, leaning down to snag Kacey’s beer and selecting one of the less vile coloured alcopops for Seb. “Well, if you will bring homework to the party.” He gestured at the pad in front of him. “Good week?”

Good quarter actually.” The older man removed his glasses, running a hand back across his neatly shaven scalp.

Want another?” Devan gestured to the whisky tumbler before him.

Since it’s turning into one of those evenings, why not. Ah, thank you.” The club owner turned towards the DJ booth, where Carlton stood working the controls. The volume had diminished, and as they listened Schuster faded expertly into something a little less intrusive. “Why we had to listen to that arrogant prick whining.”

Devan finished up with the whisky, sliding it across. “Seb loves him.”

Yes, well, I suppose we must pander to the new flavour of the month.” Fistral turned to survey the scene once more. “Though I confess it is rather entertaining watching Merran trying to reclaim the limelight.”

Devan chuckled. “Isn’t it?”

They both stood for a moment, enjoying the show.

Well, no peace for the wicked and so forth. I suppose we ought to get this party started.”

We should indeed. The guys are ready downstairs?”

Fistral grinned, sliding his glasses into the front breast pocket of his jacket. “You chose well there. And we’ve managed to snag a couple of feisty ones. Should be quite a show.”

Excellent.” Devan snagged the rest of the drinks, following the stocky club owner as he descended to the main dance floor. Alex rose as they approach, accepting a peck on the cheek from her lover as Devan passed drinks around. She and Seb had been placing the compass candles about the circumference of the circle that formed the dance floor's centrepiece. At a gesture from the Queen the eight of them stepped back to the limits of the circle, each taking their place between a pair of candles.

Seb had, he noticed, taken her place to the west. The secret wind…

Alex raised her hands like the diva that she was, fingers curling outward. Devan concentrated, drawing on the foci to pull himself across to the otherside.

I conjure this Circle of Power to be a place of strength and solidarity,” Alex intoned, her countenance one of beautiful terror as she looked about at her fellow coveners. “Let it stand as a boundary between the worlds that shall contain and direct the power within, in the name of the Fallen and the Bound.”

She stepped forward from her place, the others following suit. A highly ritualised (because Alex enforced a very strict pecking order amongst her underlings) mingling ensued, as each of them took turns adding a few drops of blood to the bowl of wine waiting in the middle of the floor. Seb followed Alex as the new comer. Devan had no idea how she was masking her true demeanour here, the butterfly should have been a coat of chaotic blue clothing her soul. Instead she was almost the night to Alex’s day, all moonlight skin and that storm cloud hair swimming in an unseen breeze, lightning playing at its heart.

The storm…!

Devan kicked himself, grinning. Schooled his expression quickly as Alex cast a questioning look his way. His was the next place, as the Queen’s favoured knight. He stepped forwards, one hand snaking up to curl briefly about the fantastic horns that always shocked him with their presence here, jeans pulled lower to accommodate the tail that coiled out from the base of his spine. Kneeling, he lifted the knife, feeling the icy kiss of its edge across the face of his palm as he pulled it from his clenched fist, blood like magma hissing into the pot. Standing, he ceded the floor to Merran, who practically skipped forwards. Devan was careful not to look at her full on. He found the young uber queen’s reflection disturbing on a visceral level. It was a childish reaction, particularly given some of the things he’d witnessed and done, but he couldn’t help it. He risked a look at the circle’s centre, was rewarded with a flash of scabbed corpulence for his trouble. A glance in Seb’s direction revealed her looking on apparently unmoved.

Stronger stomach than me.

Kacey followed on next, then the twin devils that were Carlton and Drew. Fistral brought up the rear. He always wore a hat here, reminiscent of the leather police caps popular with the fetish crowd. The otherside brought out the best or worst of him, depending on your perspective: his stature remained the same but the sense of presence you got in the mundane world was magnified tenfold.

A gorilla in a suit. Or possibly a bull dog, but one that’s smouldering gently.

Of all of them Fistral was the one who scared Devan the most. His rumoured contacts in the Pit alone were enough to pull most people up short. There was an excellent chance that when he died he’d be skipping past the damnation part, the Infernals wanted him on their team that badly.

Having added his own blood, Fistral brought the bowl with him back to the circle’s perimeter, presenting it within the cup of his palms. Alex took it, lifting the rim to her lips with. Her eyes were solemn as she lowered it, passing it back to Fistral, who took his own sip. From there it passed round the group. Devan took his turn, resisting as always the desire to gag. He knew the amount of blood present was tiny, but he couldn’t help it. Colours had never been his thing.

One of body, one of mind,” Alex intoned, as the empty bowl was passed back to her. “We partake of each other’s flesh that we might become closer in our fight for the common goal.” She paused, glancing about. “Of course, some of us have partaken a little more than others.”

It was an old joke amongst the coven, and one that signalled the end of this more formal section of the evening. It was met with the usual round of laughter, though Devan was entertained to see the number of eyes that darted Seb’s way in the flickering light.

She really is a vision, he conceded, though he had to confess that in this incarnation the other queen really did very little for him. Devan liked his men to be men. He counted himself privileged that he was one of the very few people Alex had abandoned her drag for. Not entirely, but she had made herself more obviously a man than at any other time Dev had seen her. It had lent the sex a surreal quality that was only enhanced by the hallucinogenics Alex favoured for such occasions.

So...” Alex clapped her hands together, stepping out of her place at the circle’s eastern limit to survey them all “...things are going well, thanks to your efforts.” She beamed about at everyone. “Fistral assures me the Kid is pleased with progress so far.” She glanced at her partner, who nodded, grim pleasure radiating off him like smoke from a volcano. “We’ve found our snitch...” and she nodded to Carlton and Drew “...who has been dealt with I believe?”

Carlton grinned. “Let’s just say we’ve repaid a little of the debt we owe St. Bartholomew’s psych ward.”

Yes, well...” Alex pursed her lips in approval. “I suppose we do need to send the right sort of message.”

Should have let me have a go at the little bastard,” Merran gurgled.

Alex glanced at the festering heap to her left. “We both know subtlety is not your forte Darling, and I did need something left for the other covens to be terrified of.”

Don’t worry Mer,” Carlton clapped her on the shoulder then evidently wished he hadn’t, when the offending had came away covered in green pus. “We’ll let you have the next one...” He pulled a face, turning to Drew, who was doing his best not to laugh.

Yes, well, anyway. As you may or may not be aware there was one opportunity that did not go according to plan this week.” She glanced pointedly at Merran.

What!?” The young uber queen looked about defensively. “I was told we were onto a sure thing...”

Oh do chill out,” Alex admonished. “I’ve dealt with my disappointment.” Merran relaxed visibly, the subtle lines of power that had crystallised around her dissolving once more. “That’s something you may deal with yourself. Just remember the rules: nothing overt in public, and nothing that can be traced back to us.”

I’ll be careful.”

Devan suppressed a smile. You could see the need to back chat trying desperately to fight its way past Merran’s lips. It was a mark of the young queen’s fawning idolisation of Alex that she didn’t offer up any sass. That, and she like the rest of them did not wish to become the subject of tonight’s entertainment. Individually they were all a power in their own right, albeit in different fields. But none of them could take on the combined might of the coven and expect to escape with their body and mind intact.

Well, almost none… He glanced at Seb, found her watching him with canny perspicuity. The young drag queen offered him a faint smile before turning at Drew’s hand on her arm.

There is…!” Alex raised a hand, gazing about at them until everyone settled “...a silver lining to the situation, however. You see, we had a fight in here last night…!” and she stepped back, grinning like a pantomime dame as she gestured towards the service doors that stood to one side of the dance floor. Devan grinned, stepping back with the others as Ilian and his crew threw the metal grate to one side, stepping from the ancient service elevator that stood on the other side. With them were the two bodies Devan had liberated from the morgue. He nodded to Alex and Devan, winking at Seb as he directed his people to deliver the corpses to the centre of the circle. Devan glanced at the young drag artist, caught a flash of surprise that was quickly covered with something like chagrin. Probably kicking himself for not having worked it out, Devan thought with a grin. You’ll soon learn no one enters Alex’s orbit and remains untainted. I’d be praying you might prove the exception if I didn’t know your soul was already shot through with inky darkness.

Ilian stepped back, waving the first set of lackeys out of the way and gesturing the rest of his merry band forwards.

Now comes the interesting bit.

Devan watched as the two guys were deposited unceremoniously next to the bodies. Both showed signs of the brawl they’d evidently started, one sported a split lip, the other a gash across his cheek that looked like it needed stitches.

Soon be a bit late for that.

They were tied to the wooden chairs they were carried in on, good old fashion gaffer tape muffling the imprecations that spilled from their lips. The chairs were of the seatless variety common in torture chambers and sex clubs the world over, a square frame that allowed easy access to the bound prisoners from below or behind. Because Alex liked variety in her food they got all sorts for this sort of event, from idiots like this who thought it was fun to get pissed and swing a few fists, to sexual predators who tried it on with the wrong member of staff, to those who simply couldn’t handle their drink. There was no moral compass behind her selection, a lot of it governed by happen stance, though as they tended to recruit from the ranks of those attending Phant’s supposedly ‘straight friendly’ student night that did skew the demographic a little towards young out of towners here to study at GU or the Met.

Give a straight man a beer and eventually he’s either gonna want to fuck or fight. It was a favourite adage of Dev’s, one he’d used to his advantage on many an occasion. Though usually with the former in mind.

Where as Alex’s relied on the club to bring out the later, so that they might have ‘contestants’ for their game nights. Care would, of course, have already have been taken to throw the SPD off any scent trail that may be wafting into the air. Ilian and his people were expert at hacking social media accounts, falsifying posts in preparation for a body dump later that would put the club well outside any sphere of suspicion.

The tickle of maniacal laughter brought Devan’s attention back to the lift, where two of Ilian’s gang had returned to retrieve the final ingredient to tonight’s fun. He grinned at the look of obvious distaste on their faces as they walked back towards the circle, hands held out gingerly in front of them. Each carried what looked like an old fashioned lantern constructed out of an old jar with some bent wire fashioned into a handle looped up above the lid. You could buy them at thrift stores and craft shops down on the waterfront, artfully decorated so that the night light placed within threw out a kaleidoscope of colours when lit. in such cases the lid would be punctured to allow oxygen in and heat out, but here that was not the case as you most definitely did not want the malevolent wisps contained within escaping. Devan glanced at Fistral, who was looking on with the serene pride of a master craftsman. Closer inspection of the vessels, which were about the size of a large jam or curry jar, would reveal a series of intricately etched devil traps ringing the seals.

Escape they may not yet be able to, but the jar’s prisoners definitely knew what was coming. And the traps did nothing to stop the wash of lascivious anticipation seeping out with every throb of fizzing scarlet light.

The guys strapped to the chairs obviously felt it too, as they started to buck and strain in place, trying desperately to free themselves.

Now now boys, struggle and you’ll only make it worse,” Alex admonished, glancing round at the coven with a wicked grin. “Though I for one would very much appreciate it if you struggle as much as you can manage...”

Merran cackled, the others muttering assent though Carlton and Fistral seemed to be beyond words at this point. For himself, Devan felt the shameful stirring of lust that had driven him so many times into Tom’s confessional and (inevitably) arms.

No! Not now… Don’t sully that with associations of this…

He risked another look at Seb, who was stood coolly next to Drew still apparently comparing notes. Devan found the mask she presented almost chilling, the way she was able to behave as if ritual sacrifice were a regular part of her life. Even Merran was displaying more emotion, albeit at the opposite end of the spectrum.

Devan watched Ilian’s people set the jars down in the circle before backing away swiftly to safety. Alex nodded her thanks to the door doll. “Get yourselves a drink, you’re welcome to stay and watch the show.”

Ilian grinned, waving his people towards the far side of the dance floor. Fistral meanwhile had stepped up to the edge of the circle, donning what looked like a pair of ladies evening gloves wrought out of finest chain mail. Kneeling, he reached across it’s edge towards the jars, which were practically vibrating with excitement.

I need remind none of you,” he intoned, “that you do not break the circle once we begin.”

Murmurs of assent were cut off as he loosened the first of the lids to a sound like an old fashioned kettle reaching the boil. Quickly he undid the second, the barrier thrown up by the circle shimmering briefly as he removed his arms once more.

Within, fireworks erupted from the twin jars, accompanied by asylum laughter.

Possession was an ugly thing. Anyone who tried to tell you different was lying, or damaged in some fashion. There were covens out there who actually sought it out, as a method of gaining more power. It was a valid enough play, as the daemon in question could very often be persuaded to doll out some form of reward in return for the meat suit it was loaned. Problem was, infernals were never that keen on giving said meat suit back once they had it, regardless of condition. The draw of a permanent, anchored connection to the mortal plane was a powerful thing. Any bargain that featured access to one’s body had to be very carefully worded, or you risked a variety of nasty consequences. In one of the more well known cases the young man who’d done the deal had basically ended up with a doorway to Hell at the back of his mind. The infernal he’d petitioned started selling ticketed access to its peers, resulting in a wave of particularly grizzly crimes across the small town where he went to college. He was still alive, though he had to be kept under constant restraint, and they’d been forced to bring a Nu Shakya to sever the Hellgate.

That said, there was a certain excitement about the subject that it was difficult to entirely deny. It was a visceral thing, seated deep in the guts, that never failed to grab Devan by the root, squeezing blood into his prick. It was, he suspected, tied to the same vein of his sexuality that took pleasure in the act of domination, both of others and of himself. He knew himself well enough to acknowledge the wide streak of vanity that traversed his soul, and it was this that drove his obsession with such power games. Acting the stud was an obvious extension of this, reaching out into his more mundane life and driving him to the success he enjoyed at work and in his social conquests.

The relationship between this penchant and his physical attributes, his good looks and the fact he was hung, was a subject that fascinated him, and one he had spent hours debating with himself (and others, on those rare occasions he met someone he thought would understand). He hadn’t been a cute kid, but as he moved through puberty his looks had blossomed, and he’d done what he could to improve them, maintaining a strict physical regime that had stood him in good stead since.

It was during this time that the dynamics of domination and submission first caught his attention, after a friend took him to a fetish party. The spectrum of possibilities had fascinated the young Devan.

But as he grew older he began to look past the facade, wondering what drove his desires, what channelled this need to be the centre of attention. Was it an intrinsic part of his mental make up, or was it a function of his looks? Inevitably the way you presented to the world informed how people reacted. But individuals like Fistral were an excellent example of the fact that it was not solely looks that shaped the dynamic. Would he still be the way he was if he had a smaller prick? Or lacked his movie star good looks? Or was the vain streak, and the fascination with power games it engendered something that innate, that he’d have possessed regardless?

You think too much, more than one of his lovers had told him, usually before demanding a fresh round of spanking for such impertinence.

As for his love of being the victim…?

Devan had always felt that most people who were confused by the pleasure he took from submission were missing the whole point of the submissive role:

The fact that all the attention was focused on you.

It was like Christmas for the spoilt little kid that stood at the centre of his soul.

Back to the now.

The fireworks had died down somewhat, settling into the fizzing comets of phosphorescent red as the obsessions Fistral had acquired for the evening gained focus, sniffing out the confines of their cage.

The first one trailed spitting extremities over one of the corpses almost by accident, igniting the syphon daubed across his chest in blood. Fresh sparks ignited as the thing was drawn inexorably into the meat cage, the body jerking, spasming. Lights flared within, like Catherine wheels seen through fog, tracing the length of his limbs.

The eyes stuttered open, the corpse pushing itself awkwardly up on one elbow.

The nearest of the punks chose this moment to piss himself, drawing gales of laughter from Carlton and Merran, who’d pulled up chairs. Alex restrained herself to the pursed lips of approval, the look she shot Devan one of pleased satisfaction.

The possessed stood, glancing down briefly at its companion, which seemed to be lagging a little behind. The movements were that of a crude animatronic, one being driven by someone who hadn’t quite got the hang of the controls yet. Finger joints uncoiled out of sequence, and the spine bent in odd places as it turned, surveying the witches gathered beyond the barrier. Its eyes continued to fizz and spark like a dying firework, odd traces of the light pushing against the skin as the daemon worked out which bits to push or pull when it wanted to move.

It’s gaze fixed on Fistral for a moment, offering the summoner a slight nod before turning back to the matter at hand. By this point its companion seemed to have gained some modicum of control, though it appeared not to be as gifted as its companion. Its gait resembled that of an ape more than a human, and one arm hung limply, making Devan think maybe the body had suffered some sort of injury during the blow out that had killed it. The daemon kept opening and closing the fingers on that hand, poking the limb with its other hand. Clearly tendons had snapped somewhere between shoulder and wrist, though the hand itself seemed to work well enough. The infernal shrugged, the very human gesture sending a chill up Devan’s spine. Then it flared its nostrils, lips splitting in a horrid parody of a smile. Devan assumed it had scented fear, but then the thing dropped to its hands and knees, almost ending up flat on its face when the bust elbow gave way. But it compensated, crawling forward until it was between the legs of the guy who’d pissed himself. He froze in terror as it nosed between his ankles, lowering rubbery lips to the floor where it began to slurp at the mess.

Oh for fuck sake Fistral, if I wanted piss play I’d have gone to Rottweiler.”

Fistral turned to Merran, offering a shrug of apology. “This isn’t exactly like pay per view.”

Merran grinned, reached across to clasp fists.

Player one seems to have the right idea,” Carlton offered.

Player one did indeed seem to have grasped what its audience was after. It had crept round behind the punk who’d pissed himself and begun to slowly, methodically rip his clothes off from behind. First the t-shirt, then the trousers, the waistband hacked through with the wicked blade of a sharpened nail. Even most lower daemons seemed able to instil some form of morphic control over whichever puppet they’d gotten their hands on. This done, the offending garment was pulled roughly past the guys knees. He’d begun keening, but shut up abruptly as the possessed stepped up behind him, crouching to bring its head in line with his own. One arm folded over his shoulder to embrace his chest lightly, the other reaching down to caress bared buttocks. Its cock was already a swollen curve between its legs, the skin shimmering with the light of demonic essence crammed into its length in lieu of actual blood.

Devan wrinkled his nose as the kid shat himself, but the daemon only chuckled, taking the defecation as an invite and thrusting fingers up inside his gasping sphincter. The guy yelped, eyes going wider as the thing manoeuvred its cock in after its clumsy digits, hips bucking forwards on shuffling feet. Devan thought the pair of them might go over, but it seemed to find its balance, hugging itself closer about his squirming shoulders as it began to thrust purposefully, eyes rolling and tongue lolling. Smoke began to trail from its ears, a sure sign it was enjoying itself as it plunged rhythmically in and out.

Devan risked a glance at the other punk, but he had his eyes screwed shut, was muttering something that sounded suspiciously like prayer. Cat calls drew Devan’s attention to the far side of the circle, where Ilian had brought his crew down from the bar for a better view of their handiwork. Two of them had already paired off, and a third had his face buried between Merran’s legs.

An easier job than the alternative, he thought, eyeing Carlton who was tweaking his own nipples whilst Kacey did his best to swallow as much of the guys cock as he could. Devan glanced at Seb, but she was still stood chatting to Drew, who appeared to have made no overt moves.

But… Devan looked back across the circle at Ilian, caught the door dolls eyes lingering briefly on them.

Well played, my friend, well played.
Drew’s attentions did not, of course, preclude him from making a move himself. The coven practised a very fluid policy when it came to sexual fidelity. But Devan sensed any advance he might make would be rebuffed, an ignominy he could not afford in front of the others.

The question is, is Drew aware? And if so, is this posturing therefore an intentional slight…?

It was a possibility that deserved further probing. But for now etiquette dictated he take circumstance at face value and let his fellow covener play friendly with the newbie.

And get someone else to deal with this after… he thought, the hand in his pocket wrapping round the rod throbbing in his pants.

Sighing, he turned his attention back to the floor show, where the second infernal had finally decided to join the action.

Player two coaxed an erection from their first victim (Devan could feel the glamour tugging at his libido), and proceeded to ride him like a cowboy whilst the other daemon continued to take him from behind. It was a little like watching one of those old clockwork animatronics in action, except with a soundtrack of pleading screams. It was impressive really, the amount of noise one could make through gaffer tape.

But after a few minutes of rough fucking they got bored. Player one removed its shit smeared phallus from the guys arse, bending improbably with a snap and pop of dislocating limbs to lick it clean before swallowing the thing whole to its root with a shiver of pleasure.

Meanwhile player two had crossed the circle to investigate the second punk, as yet untouched. Apparently he was made of tougher stuff than his mate as he forced himself to rigid silence in the face of the daemon’s caresses. His clothes were also summarily removed, revealing muscled legs and the kind of tight abs you wanted to lick stuff off. Clumsy fingers pinched and prodded, the infernal’s hands wandering across sweat slicked skin as it explored possibilities. Not all of the lower ranks understood the rules of the physical universe properly, which could often result in a mess end to their games. But these two seemed keen to prolong the fun as much as possible. A function, Devan suspected, of their nature.

This time the chair was tipped over on its back, the possessed beckoning its companion over. A brief exchange ensued, the infernals apparently weighing up options over the prostrate figure before them. Or perhaps debating who would get which end. Player one took the arse again, player two moving up to the punks head. As his companion gobbed something vile looking and black over its phallus and thrust in the second daemon ripped away the gaffer tape cover the punks mouth, releasing a squeal that scaled up in comical surprise at this unexpected release. But before he could get another sound out the daemon was cramming its own cock down his throat, ignoring the gagging protestations of its victim.

More cowboy time.

Player one was having a merry old time, arms braced along the legs of the chair so that it could lift its legs off the floor, hips swinging back and forth as it went at it like the proverbial barn door. Meanwhile, player two continued to plumb the guys throat, waiting until his bucking protestations reached a certain pitch of desperation before pulling out to let him breath.

Again this continued for some time before the pair of them got bored with such mundanity.

From there things went rapidly downhill for the punks.

Unsatisfied with the usual orifices, the possessed began experimenting with making their own. Devan liked to think he had a strong stomach but by the end of it even he was turning away in distaste. Rape porn was one thing, but snuff had never been his thing. He stepped away from the circle on the pretence of refilling his drink, catching Alex’s eye. She raised a finger in acknowledgement of his departure but shook her when he raised his bottle.

At the bar Kacey was conversing with a couple of the guys from Ilian’s gang, sounding out loyalties no doubt. He glanced at Devan, who squeezed his shoulder in passing before heading behind the bar to the neon tranquillity of beer fridges and POS hold screens. Up here the sounds of wet flesh were a distant rumour, possible to ignore.

Bless me father, for I have sinned…

His heart skipped in his chest, and he fought down the surge of yearning that accompanied the stray thought.

Now is not the time or place.

Not your cup of tea.”

With a start he glanced up, finding Ilian regarding him from across the counter. Devan pointed a thumb over his shoulder, eyebrow raised in question. The kid nodded, accepting the beer from Devan with cool equanimity. Theirs was a relationship built on professional respect: each recognised what the other was after in life, and honoured the wary truce they’d built. They had fucked, of course. Several times, over the couple of years since Ilian had moved to the city ostensibly to study at SMU. Devan enjoyed the kid’s easy outlook and open ambition, and Ilian got a fast track through the ranks of the Heiros’ affiliated gang.

But something about the Sebastian situation seemed to have sullied the purity of their relationship. Devan could feel it in the air between them.

We’re either going to end up at loggerheads or fucking. Only time will tell…

She’s not wasting her time, is she?”

Devan glanced in the direction Ilian was pointing, saw Drew with a well muscled arm round Seb’s waist.

This isn’t exactly the sort of environment that fosters fidelity,” Devan replied easily, glancing at the door doll in his skimpy vest.

Yeah, suppose it’s something we all get used to.” Ilian leant forwards on the bar, eyes smiling. His mouth was warm, slightly sweet with the beer.

So, fucking then.

They retired to one of the seating booths, bottles deposited casually on a table. Devan striped Ilian of his t-shirt, licking sweat from the curving swell of his pectoral before tracing the line down between his abs. They disengaged so Ilian could remove his top before coming together once more, mouths seeking each other out with moist urgency.

Devan lost track of specifics, as was always the way with good sex. His hands acted on orders that bypassed his conscious mind almost completely, baring the occasional suggestion thrown into the flow...

The nipples, I want to suck them.

Just the thumb, but up to the ball. That’s right, make him gasp!

...more, get him to feed you more of his cock…

Ilian clutched his horns like bike handlebars, the sensation uncannily erotic as he back and forth between Devan’s lips, hips moving liquidly. Devan kept his eyes open, enjoying the play of muscle beneath the guys skin as he worked up a sweat, tiny moans escaping his lips. The he was pushing Ilian back onto one of the couches, climbing on top of him to tease the kid’s glans with his sphincter, grinning at the pleading look in Ilian’s eyes. Finally he relented, plunging him in, engulfing him in warm, moist darkness. Their lips came together, smothering gasps from them both, his hand creeping down to work frantically at the solid bar that was his erection between them, his tail whipping back and forth like an agitated cat.

Ilian came a few moments later, the orgasm erupting inside him with liquid warmth. His own was a few seconds later, the kid’s ardour pushing him over the edge to spill hot seed across those perfect abs, his arse contracting about Ilian’s cock with each pumping spasm. The gang leader shivered beneath him at this, grinning. They came apart, Devan shifting to slouch next to the kid, who rummaging in his trousers came up with a pack of Reds and a lighter.

Devan’s eyes widened in appreciation. “You’re a life saver.”

Ilian lit up before handing him the pack, slouching back himself. Devan fished one of the tea light holders Alex had put out closer to use as an ashtray.

So,” Ilian glanced at him, expression cautious, “I guess this means we’re friends again?”

Devan just laughed.

Download this book for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-27 show above.)