Epilogue: What Happened To The Anal Sluts?

Without the demon Blaze to bind them together, the members of her cult went their separate ways. Yet they had been marked by their association with the demon, the four women now under the eyes of strange powers, and while one chapter in their lives was closed to them, new ones opened.

Diana Reynolds, the youngest at nineteen, slid back into the ways of her old life.

The coffee shop where she had worked took her back on as a barista; she had missed several weeks of assignments in her classes, and she fell to her studies with a vengeance, hoping to save her grades at least. Over the weeks that followed, her bleached-blonde hair grew out to show the natural copper, and her green eyes stared longingly at the men and women around her...but she had no time to play, not now. Work and study were all she could manage, or else she might fail the semester and her parents might cut her off...

...and at night, in her bed, she would slide two lube-slick fingers into her ass, tugging at the little hole, breathing quietly so that her roommate wouldn't hear. It was her only release, these stolen moments, and Diana yearned for something more. Something greater than what she was now...

...and a warm body slipped inter her bed. Shocked, the young woman opened her eyes...and stared into a pale, androgynous face, with haunting eyes that seemed to drink her soul.

"Don't stop," the figure whispered. A hand slid down between Diana's legs, in between her cleft. An electric thrill ran through the young woman as she felt her own fingers in her ass, and this person's fingers in her cleft.

"Who...who are you?" Diana whispered.

The pale figure smiled. Boy and girl, man and woman, both yet neither. "I am Desire, child...and I have such plans for you..."

Mara de la Cruz could not settle back into her old life. The twenty-year-old art major could no longer bring herself to go to church. Her paintings, once abstract and experimental, now focused solely on the erotic. Clothes were stifling, and she spent most of her time in her dorm room naked, completing and submitting her assignments online, ordering in food. The webcam became her outlet. It didn't matter how fat you were, as long as you had tits, a cunt, an ass. Late into the nights she would squeeze her brown asshole down onto a silicone shaft, fingers rubbing at her fat labia, letting the tips trickle in.

The private shows, however, were different. She liked to do them for soldiers and sailors, airmen and marines overseas. Men or women, it didn't matter. She wouldn't accept payment. They were lonely, horny, lusty. They needed someone to connect with. So she would talk, as she rubbed her clit, ran fingers in her pussy and ass. That was what they needed. The human connection. Compassion...lust...love...and when they came, they came for her, and she would moan and rock on her chair, fingers spreading out her holes as if their juices could fly through the internet and mingle with her own...to sit there in the afterglow, her holes aching, her body yearning for something more.

Until one night, a violet light slipped through her window. A violet ring slipped on her finger...and a woman's voice, strangely accented like a voice-to-text program, spoke into her mind: "Mara de la Cruz. You have great love in your heart. Welcome to the Star Sapphire Corps."

Tonya Wong returned to her business degree with a new attitude. In the weeks that followed, three rings pierced her labia, to keep any pesky penises out of her pussy. Yet her ass...well, she put that to work.

The escort service paid well for twenty-something college students. Short Asian women were made out to be exotic whores, never mind that she and her parents had both been born in Metropolis. Tonya's one stipulation, anal only, wasn't much of a drawback to business. On a good night, the young woman could give her ass quite a workout.

Yet she wasn't expecting the setup when she arrived at this particular call. It was a furnished studio apartment, six blocks from campus. All of the furnishings had been pushed to the walls, to make room for a large, intricate circle and pentegram. The blond Englishman poured drinks as she examined the reddish chalk that made up the circle.

"Pint of baby's blood, mixed in," he said, answering her question without bothering to let her ask it first.

Tonya's eyes widened. She felt a shiver of excitement in her belly, and a kind of itch deep inside that she hadn't felt since the last time her mistress Blaze had fucked her.

"So...where do you want me?" Tonya asked, hoping he had a big dick. Her ass felt hungry.

"Take off your clothes, and squat in the circle," he said. "Your date will be along around midnight."

"My date?" Tonya said. "I thought you..."

"No, love," John Constantine smiles. "I'm calling up an old friend...and he likes a bit of ass when he comes up from below. You like that, though, don't you? I can smell it..."

Shaking with excitement, the nude young woman walked into the middle of the circle, careful not to smear any of the lines. She dropped into a squat, pussy already leaking. Constantine began to chant, and the lights dimmed...the chalk began to glow with a dim phosphorescence...and then something touched her ass. Something big...

In the darkness, Tonya Wong smiled. She couldn't believe she was getting paid for this!

Some people, once they stumble in life, can't stop falling. Jenny Dunlap returned to find her position untenable. Never a great student, she found that she had basically failed the semester. After being gone two weeks, her roommates had thrown out all of her belongings, and sublet the apartment. The one phone call she made to her mother turned out to be her last; in terse words the woman disowned her.

Twenty-two years old, the body of a dancer. Tall and fit, but flat. The options quickly running out. Jenny retreated to the occult section of the university library. For three nights, she slept there, hiding from the custodial staff. She had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. Living out of vending machines until her money ran out, poring over the books, old and new, looking for...something. Some answer, some promise that would make it all right again...

...and in the witching hour, the answer came to her in the form of a man.

His skin was red as fresh blood on parchment. Muscles like a bodybuilder, with the wide shoulders and lean waist of Arnold Schwarzeneggar in his prime...yet there was something inhuman, pantherish, in the way he walked. A dark helmet concealed his features, but not the dark horns that curled up from his brow, the pure white eyes without pupil or iris, so familiar to her.

"Lord Satanus," she dropped to her knees. Hungry and exhausted as she was, she stripped off her clothes. Bending before him, she spread her ass cheeks, wishing she had cleaned herself better. "My lord! Please! I give myself to you...only..."

Great hands seized her. Hot spittle dripped onto her tiny hole. She shivered as it seemed to seep into her ass, the accumulated shit melting away into a thin lubricant by some demonic alchemy.

"...only you will serve me, slut," The young woman shook as the head of his cock plowed forward, splitting her ass open. "You will be my acolyte, and I will give you the power and means to serve me...to take **** on my dear sister!"