The Devil Is In The Ductwork

“Thou maketh a fine tracker.” Morgan chuckled and held out her hand to Joan. Crows flew out from her sleeves and from under her dress, and flew to various posts around the room. The contestants within shivered, and closed their eyes, now scared as well as confounded. “Seeking thine prey, through these jumbled passages.”

“You flatter me, queen of witches.” Joan smiled, and held her sword out to Morgan’s throat. “But as usual you’ve got it wrong. Your location was simply revealed to me by my saints, by The Lord of Hosts.”

“That’s cheating.” Morgan sang, then pouted. “I do so adore cheaters, what brings thee here, thankless child? I did thine work for ye. The Devil is gone, present this revelation to thine god, and let the heavens rejoice and sing my praise.”

Joan frowned, she was an awfully serious girl. “Where do you get this arrogance? You overpower a powerless shell of the devil, and you think yourself the savior of creation? Surely even you in your blinding ignorance can not think you destroyed Satan?”

“Destroy, Imprison. If you throw away the key, there is no difference."

“A seminal work of french literature disagrees.”

From off stage a door opened opened up. “Joan of Arc, welcome to my humble set.” Mistress Eloise casually entered the room .”If you’re interested in joining. Clay’s harem, I’d be happy to let you in.” She gestured to the man in the room. “But you’ll have to be here physically. I don’t do stand ins.”

“And you are?” Joan didn’t move her blade, boundlessly unthreatened by Eloise’s appearance.

“Mistress Eloise Bloodmoon, I’m the host here on Harem Hotel: Portland.” She finished that off with a chuckle to herself. She was more to that, to Joan in particular, but she preferred to keep that quiet. Living in Sin, in a miracle of awareness actually knew Joan was missing, which would make **** her a bad idea.

“Another one. Your ilk have rat holes all over this reality don’t they?”

“Other realities are so much more liberated, there’s hardly any challenge in seeing them become harems. No one breaks down, no one cries.” She licked her lips.

Joan gave her a long look, and eventually calculated that she had no interest in this woman. She trained her attention back on Morgan.“Where did you hide Satan? You’ve **** me into the repugnant position of having to free him. Congratulations.”

“Varily thou art a queer saint. I see no reason why his release would aid thee, the three, or anyone." Morgan was tracing her black tipped fingers along Joan's blade.

“Yes.” Eloise agreed. “Let them crown Skylar’s creation, get some fresh blood in Hell to shake things up.”

“So the producers might have Satan as their own pet, I think not.” Joan gave Eloise a half glance. “Tell her to release him, or I’ll slay her, and he’ll be lost to everyone then.”

“You need him.” Eloise didn’t flinch.

“I’ll get by.” Neither did Joan.

“Do it. My contract with her is complete. Sorry Morgan, looks like a few seconds of life is all you get.” Eloise seemed entirely unbothered by the threat, much to Joan's dismay. She didn't seem to care for Morgan's life, or that of Satan...

“Ah.” Joan chuckled, and let her blade away from Morgan. “It just clicked.” She turned to Eloise, now somewhat interested in the girl. “You would have stolen him if he were a mortal, king, or Satan himself. You are an Enemy of Skylar.” She then pointed to Morgan. “You are her agent.” Then she pointed to herself. “And neither of you have any concern for the balance of the universe you’re disrupting.”

Eloise took a step back. That was a disturbingly accurate summation of the events. “More or less.”

Joan laughed and tucked her sword away. “It must be liberating to so casually threaten reality over personal whims, but that’s besides the point. If cosmic calamity isn’t your intention, then I suppose there's room for negotiation.”

Morgan chuckled. “Saints negotiate now? These are queer times.”

“The end of times. My opening offer, is that you both keep your heads.”

Eloise gave her own chuckle. “That’s a strong opening position, but consider this. This body is a shell, and my true form exists in a reality outside your God.”

Joan considered this with grace, and nodded her fair head. “Counter point, this may be true. But just as I can not exist without my God, you can not exist without your producers. And I imagine they would be mightily dissapointed to hear what you’ve done to Skylar’s show.”

“Me thinks I’m ancillary to this conversation.” Morgan whispered. “I’ll just see myself…”

“Stop witch.” Joan said simply.

Then Mistress Eloise spoke. “You obviously know nothing about us. We hosts sabotage each other all the time. It’s on the host of each show to deal with problems as they arrive. You airing the truth, would only hasten Skylar’s downfall, and your show’s cancellation. Erica’s destruction would be for nothing, and you’d have to be the one to tell YOUR God.”

Joan nodded. “Is that so?”

—--

Joan of Arc

Savior of France

“Good evening everyone, God has brought to me a revelation which explains many of the peculiarities of this season’s show. The truth is…

—--

“Stop stop stop!” Mistress Eloise cut off that confessional before it got out of hand.

“Hmm.” Joan may have been a serious person, but watching evil squirm did provide a certain type of joy. “Negotiations then?”

Eloise held out her hand to Joan, the building began to shake. Picking up on the **** Morgan did the same. Her crows burst into clouds of feathers and began to swirl around the saint. Joan stood there amongst it all, like the eye of a hurricane. “Raaagh!” Eloise cried out when she saw that Joan wasn’t an incoherent pile of flesh. She took her other hand, and seemed to claw into the world. There was much screaming around the room, as a black crack shot through the reality of the place, with Joan in the middle. This crack widened and revealed, nothing, more of the void, but Joan still floated beyond it’s touch. She could not have looked more out of place, standing amongst nothing, glowing amongst nothing, and bothered by nothing.

Morgan was chanting and cursing in a sick language, whisps of purple and black assailed Joan but could not touch her. No curse, hex, or spell so much as grazed her skin.

“Diiiiiiiiiie!” Eloise cried, and ripped the world in two. One half of the hotel leaned on one side of a endless voice, and the other floating amongst a timeless nothing. And like the iris of an eye, stood Joan.

Joan tsked. “I was at least willing to let you keep the illusion of control. How petty.” She shrugged, as Eloise and Morgan stood before her panting, and powerless. “The deal is thus. You’ll return Satan to Skylar.” She pointed To Morgan. “And you will cease trying to get the show canceled.” She pointed to Eloise. “In return. I will keep your behavior secret from the producers, and.” She pointed her sword at Morgan. “I will allow you to live.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “You’ll allow a dead soul to walk the earth?”

Joan shrugged. “These are the end of times. All means are allowed.”

—--

Boudica dipped and swirled her dildo around her sex, the little camera blinked, and blinked red. It was a metaphor it stood for the ten thousand or so viewers on her stream, watching her pleasure herself. She was really picking up steam with the viewership. Everyone loved her belligerent, and annoyed comeback she’d back at chat. Not to mention her evergreen annoyance at not being able to curse, and boy did she want to curse. Especially at the messages in the hundreds telling her to shave her muff. “Not snuggling likely.” She was a proud and fertile woman, why would she try to smooth herself down like some roman statue?

As she pointed her vagina at the camera, thick red hair damp like a dog, she let out a surprised gasp. Her chair was pulled with her in it, away from the camera. “Oi!” She flailed and tried to keep her balance, lucky a soft silk rope flew out from the toy chest, and started to tie her down. No chance of falling out now! “Skylar!” She screamed turning red with anger. “You let me out of this right now you meanie!” The rope curled around her, it snaked through her legs, and pulled them apart. “I mrph! Muh, meeeer!” Once she started ranting again, a ball gag jumped out of the toy chest as well, and found a home in her mouth.

The chat was going crazy. The toys were coming alive and rebelling against their owner, like some kind of sexy Toy Story. They especially liked it when a chat friendly vibrator made it’s way out of the chest, and pressed against her wet sex. She rocked her in chair, and shook her head, but there was nothing to stop the toy from slipping into her her hole.

Boudica, not a complete idiot knew where this was going, glared at the camera. Commanding her viewers to shut the fuck up. The dildo went off activity in chat and, yup there they went.

0utlander2020r: Bzzzz

ElectricFord: Bzzzzzzzzzzz

Anon14447: Buzz buzz!

The dildo inside of her came alive, and started a-roaring. Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. She squeezed and squeezed and tried to get it out, but something was holding it in place. It seemed whatever was doing this to her, was intent on helping her meet her quota.

When the night was over clubbers laid across the dance floor like, bodies at Gettysburg. Clothes drinks, and shame laid scattered around. It was an epic sight. The aura of satisfaction, and exhaustion mixed with sweat and **** and made the whole place feel wonderfully dinghy.

“Have fun?” Muscular Master Peaks approached Stan and his two girls who laid exhausted on a couch and the floor. He had a bruise across his cheek, but kept his hands cooly in his pockets.

“Ugh, what happened?” Stan’s head was pounding.

Peaks laughed. “You said ‘fuck being a good guy, Imma get me some ass.’”

“Fuck.” Erica slumped off the couch, and hit the floor, and yelped. “Ouch.” Her butthole was SORE.

The Master laughed, and tilted his head at a guilty angle. “Sorry about my wife, she can be a little eager to please.”

“She’s Crazy.” Molly plucked a pacifier out of her mouth, made to throw it away, but ended up pocketing it.

“She is that.” Peaks helped the young woman up. “She’s being punished as we speak.”

“Sorry about punching you.” Stan dragged himself to his feet.

“All good.” Peaks gave him a grin. “I’d beat the shit out of anyone who tried to steal one of my girls. In my estimate I got off easy.”

“You think you’re so cool.” Erica joined her party on their feet.

“Erica.” Stan slapped her on the butt without thinking.

“Youch, sorry Daddy.” She felt a fresh shredding pass through her. To be punished, to be loved, what was the difference? She was horny all other again. Too bad.

Stan looked around the still room, DJ was passed out at his station, a bevy of lovers draped over him. “Can we go?”

“Yup.” Peaks stepped aside, and gestured to the door, far past the battlefield of exhausted sleepers. “No one’s keeping you.”

Ackwardly the three stepped over body after body, careful not to slip in the wide variety of puddles this place had to offer. They passed the bar, to pick Marie up. She was right where they left her, asleep, leaned up against the bar, romper around her ankles, and cum dripping out of her ass. She slept like an angel. The bar was spotless, other than the zombies Bae had claimed with her drinks. But even they were passed out neatly in their seats. The hard working wench was already setting washed glasses back on the shelf.

“Come on Marie, we gotta go.” Erica was pulled Marie’s romper up as Molly shook the girl.

“Muh.” Marie mumbled. “Just stick it in.”

“She’s an inspiration.” Molly joked, then cast a nasty glare over to Bae.

“Sorry about the drinks.” She said, looking like she meant it. “I can’t say no to GODDESS.”

Peaks clucked his tongue, and leaned against the bar. “So she roped you into too, huh?”

“Yes master.” Bae lowered her gaze. “Are you going to punish me?”

“Thinking about it.” Both Stan and Erica caught them sharing a look. It was a look over twenty years, and a million miles. The look we call ‘Regret’. “But I’ll let it slide this time.”

“How generous.” Molly grumbled, and threw Marie over her shoulders, piggy back style and started marching for the door.

“I see.” Stan whispered to Peak, as the two of them walked away.

“Oh now, you’re paying attention.” The olderman punched Stan in the shoulder.

The devil took it like a pro. “Hey man, the best time to tell someone you love them is twenty years ago, the second best time is right now. It’s never too late.”

“It’s too late.” There was a finality in that sentence, that Stan belived. Dubious as he was about all the advice Peaks had given him, there was no denying the man's experience. Maybe there really was something in the next four transformations, or the next twenty years that made all of this hopeless.

Stan just felt lucky he didn't love any of these girls.

“Love.” Marie mumbled, into Molly’s ear. “Is that all you men care about?”

As he party walked off, Erica stayed focused on Bae's sad stare. She wanted very much to help this woman. To free her from GODDESS' ****, to get her out from behind her bar, maybe even to get her with the that lowlife she still clearly cared for. Of course is she won the game all these things would be solved, she hoped. Joan would help her create a perfect world, and she couldn't imagine this place lasting long in that environment. But that was all so abstract and impersonal. She wanted specifically to help Bae, and she didn't know how.

"God is real." She said at last, to the bar tender.

"What?" Bae looked her way. Blue hair clung to her head, after a long night's part.

"I know you used to be religious, and I just want you to know God is real."

"Yeah?" Bae leaned on her massive breasts and looked back after Peaks. "And what good does that do me?"

Something was fucked up.

That’s the thought that drew Helen ever closer to the dark void at the end of the hallway. There was a door open, and it revealed a room of utter darkness. There was not even light creeping in through the blinds.That alone was not enough to get Helen to approach, but the powerful moans of sex that were roaring from it’s mouth were.

Maybe it was the cuck in her, but it was a titillating little situation. Who could it be?

She couldn’t recognize the moans. Oh geez, had this show gone on so long she could recognize the moans of her fellow slaves? Apparently not.

She crept forward, a naughty smile on her face. “Let’s see, who we got.” She whispered to herself, feeling a little wet. “Didn’t think of inviting me Eve?” Her cuck sesnses were buzzing.

Then as she got within feet of the door frame, still seeing nothing but perfect darkness. There was a roar like from a tiger that came from the room. Helen scream and ran the opposite direction. Like generations of prey before her, she didn't need to think about it. Her body carried her away, like Paris to Troy.

A smart policy, but it was too late. The rug under her feet began to withdraw into the room like a great tongue. Helen tripped and fell over the rug. It drew her in, and though, she clawed and cried for help, it was of no use.

She vanished into the darkness, and the door slammed shut.

——-

“Now Olympias,” Grace said with a sickeningly easy and regal tone. As if she were always meant to talk down to queens and despots. “You ran off last time, so I want you to make sure you get every nook and cranny this time around.”

“Yes Mistress.” Olympias gritted her teeth, and kissed along the inner thighs of Grace.

Must win, must win, must.

Come on Olympias!

A cultist of Dionysus losing a fucking competition? She’d never be able to show her face in public again!

Lick, lick, kiss, suck.

So beneath you, so disappointing. Putting yourself beneath your very own victim like this. Yes there it is, humiliation. Sweet sweet mind rotting humiliation and the embers of lust it ignites within you.

Keep going, fufill her every insane demand, until even you won’t be able to deny yourself sex.

“Hey losers.” Joan peaked over her sunglasses, as the group came stumbling into the shuttle. “Oh geez, what happened?” Everyone but Marie looked somber, and weary.

Marie just looked, asleep.

"We had a long night." Erica hoped that would suffice.

"It's 6:00PM." Joan pointed to the clock on the dash.

"What the hell?" Molly stared out at the club. "Can we just please get out of here? This place gives me to creeps."

Joan gave her a sympathetic smile in the rearview and started navigating into traffic. She then looked over at Stan who'd noticably sat next to her, and not with the girls in the back. "What about you, was it an eye opening experience?"

He just stared out the window, as the snow strewn roads passed on by. "I'm more confused than ever honestly. At the same time I saw what I don't want to be, and exactly what I'm going to become."

Joan laughed at that, thought it was a rueful joke, of a fellow veteran. "Then you really did see the future." There was not wit to that joke at all, it was just... the truth as Joan saw it.

"I've asked a demi-god, and I've asked another master, but what about you? You're a saint right? You're made of holy. If you were in my position, what would you do?"

Joan thought this over, as she slugged through traffic. Then eventually gave a bright smile. "I'd be of good cheer. For the lord of hosts has chosen to take this burden from you."

This made him return the laugh. "When you say it that way, it sounds like you're going to kill me."

—--