Gifts From A Demoness

It was a room unlike any you have been in. It existed only because its sole occupant willed it, less a place than a concept with four walls. Of course, if you were there you would never know. Its walls, made of burnished dark wood, were as solid as any other. The candles, each burning a different color, filled the air with a beautiful collage of fragrances. Some you would recognize, some you would smell nowhere else. The mound of pillows, chaotically piled in the center of the floor, was silky and pliable to the touch.

Not that you could get in. She hadn't bothered to put a door in. She hadn't bothered to put much of anything in the room. Just the pillows, the candles, an HD television, a remote, and herself. Even a ceiling had apparently been too much effort. Instead, she just made the walls go up forever.

She herself was, as you might expect, quite unusual as well. Her smooth, flawless skin was a vibrant magenta. Her long, wavy, messy, hair was deep indigo. Even if you took her coloration in stride, her beauty would definitely catch you off guard. Everything from her face (expressive red eyes, a cute button nose, and full, pouty lips), down to her legs (slim but shapely thighs, toned sleek calves, and adorable, petite feet), and everything in between (huge, perky tits, a flat, smooth tummy, and a bubbly, bouncy ass) was all perfection incarnate.

And at this moment it was almost all on display. She was clad only in a tasteful, black thong with the words "ALL YOU CAN EAT" written in white on the crotch (complete with a knife and fork standing in for the L's.) And a cheap black bra with the words "GROPE" and "HERE" written in large, red, blocky letters on the left and right cup respectively.

Clearly, she was no angel. Though that may have been apparent from the smooth horns poking out of her hair and the long, whippy tail with a spade-shaped point on the end.

In truth, Lilith was far from what you might expect of one of, if not the, most powerful demonesses in all of creation. You might expect an ancient, wizened crone cloaked in baby skin, cackling madly while lightning strikes in the background. Not a twenty-something with bedhead wearing tacky on-purpose underwear from Myrtle Beach, channel surfing with one hand in her panties.

And yet here she was masturbating while spying on mortals having sex. Or at least trying to.

"Missionary." She said in a bored tone as a contract lawyer and a physical therapist made sweet love.

She clicked the remote.

"Gentle missionary." She said in a huff, as a high school principal and a soccer mom tried to not wake up their kids.

She clicked the remote.

"Missionary with the lights off." She said in a dejected sigh, as a preacher and his stay-at-home wife tried for their first kid.

She clicked the remote.

"C-CUDDLING!?" She shrieked in disbelief. Growling in frustration she began to chew out the young women on the screen.

"You two are seriously cuddling!? The two of you have known each other all your lives! You've kept the fact that you're lesbians and in love with each other secret, even from each other. And then you both tearfully confessed and began to passionately kiss. You fall into the bed giggling like idiots. AND! YOU! JUST! CUDDLE!?"

With that she fell back, sighing heavily. The TV evaporated into nothingness as she closed her eyes and moaned dramatically.

"Where's the passion? Where's the joy? Where's the kink? Where's the butt stuff? For fuck's sake, where is doggy style?"

Taking a deep breath she rolled over and began rifling through her pillow pile (coincidentally sticking her thong-clad ass high in the air.) Eventually, she reemerged with a pencil and an odd notebook. At first glance, its cover seemed to be by Lisa Frank. But closer inspection revealed that if it was by her it was clearly from her hardcore, BDSM, furry, orgy period.

"Dear Diary," She narrated as she wrote, "Today I decided to finally take some me time. You know decompress and chill. Since I was feeling voyeuristic I decided to see what those wacky mortals were up to." She sighed heavily again. "It was the perfect plan. Fire up the tube and jill off to whatever weird shit I can find. Only it seems all those losers figured out how to make sex boring. Seriously! Boring Sex! Can you even imagine that, Diary? It should be impossible! But I looked for like ten minutes and nothing. No bondage. No roleplay. No toys. No anal. No swinging. No threesomes. Not even oral. Just missionary in the bed. Except for the last couple. They just cuddled. Seriously. They didn't even grope anything. I hate life and I'm immortal. This is the worst. Love, Lilith."

Then after a moment, she added. "P.S. I miss Victorian London. Those aristocrats were freaks!"

The demoness collapsed onto her back and stared morosely at the inky void where the ceiling should be. Her finger snaked back to her clit as she pondered what to do. She could always go pick someone (or many someone's) up and fuck them. But the whole point of her me-time was to take a break. Change paces, relax and enjoy some voyeuristic delights. But now she had no delights. It was a disaster.

"Wait a minute," She said, bolting upright, making her tits jiggle wildly against their fabric constraints. She stroked her chin as her tail flicked back and forth. All the while she contemplated.

"What did those angels call it? Mysterious ways? Whatever. But maybe that's what I can do."

She jumped to her feet in joy. Bouncing, dancing, and twirling she settled on a plan.

"I'll get some mortals to do my work for me!" Lilith said with a giggle. "I'm sure they remember how to have fun. They just need a subtle push."

She paused for a moment.

"Eh, well subtle is in the eye of the beholder. Now, who to pick."

She conjured a little, black book out of the air and began thumbing through its pages. Then after a few pages, she spotted a name.

"EEEE, that's perfect!" She squealed in delight. "Oh, and I know just what to do!"

(Do you have an idea for Lilith? Then please feel free to add to this story!)