Infernal Gray Ch. 01

This story shares a setting and some characters with Infernal World, and begins a few months after the events in Infernal World Ch. 04, but doesn't assume you've read the other story.

Grayson Harding pulled his car into the packed parking lot, grateful to have snagged one of the last spots. He still wasn't sure he wanted to be there at all. Maybe he should give up the spot for someone else.

Well, he had a right to be here. And his wife had urged him to come. So had Lily, the "real" demon who popped in now and then from nowhere, checking up on him. She told him that less than 1 percent of all infernals, worldwide, were still monogamous. She'd even threatened him with a PowerPoint on the subject; apparently PowerPoint was big in Hell.

He grabbed his backpack from the passenger seat and walked toward the club, with its blazing LED sign that read, "Inferno," in a style that imitated neon signs of the 1950's.

There was a line for the front door, and it was moving slowly. It was mostly women, and tilted toward the young and the beautiful. Gray stopped for a moment, leaned against a car that wasn't his, and pulled out a sketch pad and a few pencils. He quickly did a sketch of the line. He didn't try to capture the beauty, just the poses of women in either anxiety or excitement or both.

The few men there were in tuxedos, much better dressed than his own casual dress shirt and jeans. He supposed he should be interested in their emotions, too, and try to draw them, but they didn't interest him given the pageant of feminine beauty on display. There wasn't a leg fully covered among the women. If a skirt was long, it had a slit. If it was short, it might very well be indecently so. One woman bent over to pick up her dropped driver's license, and Gray got to see that she wasn't wearing panties.

Gray sketched that, too.

He felt vaguely guilty as he took in the bikini tops, the tight T-shirts worn braless, the deep V necklines. He was a married man, after all, even if his wife had given him a hall pass. He would have liked to say his appreciation was entirely aesthetic, but it was more than that. He'd been hornier lately.

"I can't keep up," Betty had told him. "You need at least two wives. Go find yourself some other girl to fuck for a bit. Please. My jaw aches, my pussy is sore, and my ass can't take any more."

He'd been bigger lately, too.

He sketched, switching from poses to personalities and outfits, drawing girl after girl as the line slowly dwindled.

"Hey," said a male voice beside him.

He turned. The man was tall, and wore nothing but a pair of jeans and some flip-flops, showing off six-pack abs and well defined pecs. "Hey, yourself," Gray said cheerfully.

"You're making some people nervous. And single men aren't welcome." The man shrugged. "I don't make the rules. I don't claim it's fair. But it is what it is, and you're going to have to move along."

"Ah," Gray said. "I'm an infernal. I thought I was welcome here."

"If you're an infernal, you certainly are. But maybe not in the parking lot, looking like a human drawing pictures so he can ID the girls." The man peered over his shoulder. "Those are pretty good. But yeah, I can see that the point isn't trying to identify people. I'm Blake, by the way."

"Gray."

"You have a nom de inferno?"

"A what?"

"A demon name. When we're in there, we go by a name that sounds demonic. Mine's Belphegor. Just make something up."

"Oh, god, I suck at stuff like that," Gray said. "Can't even name my artwork most of the time. End up with things like 'Potomac River by Sunset' and realize I've called four paintings that, so I call it 'Potomac River by Sunset 4.'"

Blake pulled a phone out of his pocket. "Thank goodness for the internet, huh?" He pulled up a page. "No need to be original. This is where I got mine from."

"Alright. Here's the shortest one. Ur."

"Ur? Alright. Welcome to Inferno, Ur. Our entrance is around the back. Of course, I'll have to see some proof."

"You want me to strip and change here, now?"

"That would do it. Unless you have a Ruritanian ID."

The EU had decided to give its demons a bit of land in the Balkans to call their own. Whimsically, it had been named the Infernal Republic of Ruritania, and had proclaimed all demons citizens. You just had to show up to the Ruritanian embassy and claim the privilege. But Gray hadn't gotten around to it. He had mixed feelings about Ruritania, anyway. They had some interesting laws, to say the least.

Gray looked around. "Well, maybe here, behind this van."

"Sure," Blake said.

Gray had only shapeshifted a couple of times since Lily showed him how. It was handy, whenever he got some kind of cold, to just transform it away. He just had to focus on something that made him really angry, like people who claimed Miro was a better artist than Vermeer, or who shaved standard poodles to make them look ridiculous. He stripped down to his underwear. It took a minute or so, but eventually he managed it.

The underwear ripped as he became a giant, red figure with muscles that outdid even Blake, and a tail. He was well over six feet tall, seven feet if you counted the big curved horns. Gray grabbed his crotch to cover it.

"You don't do that much, do you?" Blake asked. "And nobody here thinks that we've got anything to be embarrassed about, down there."

Gray transformed back. "No. I don't - I keep a low profile."

"Alright. Come with me. Better put your clothes on for now, too. In there you can be naked, for all anyone cares. We're usually in demon form when we're in the club, and if those girls had known you were an infernal, they would have been posing rather than complaining to us."

"Seems a little backward, doesn't it? They're scared of humans, but demons are fine?" Gray said as he followed Blake around the building.

"Context. If you're big and red, you're someone they want to fuck. If you're dressed in a tux, you're a cuck and you're harmless. But you? You look like a creep. Sorry."

"Ugh. I didn't intend to stop to draw, but -"

"Hey, if I could do more than squiggle, I'd probably be out drawing the girls, too. You into the young ones, or the MILFs?"

"I don't know that I'm into any of them. Or that I have a preference."

"Huh," Blake said. "Well. Here we are."

Gray followed Blake through a non-descript black door at the back of the club, and into a paneled room with some tables. He'd hardly ever seen another infernal, and now he was confronted by half a dozen of them. The males were bare chested, wearing jeans or speedos or shorts. One of the women wore a catsuit, unzipped in the front to show her big red breasts, and tight enough in the front that you could see the outlines of her cock, with a hole in the back for her tail to come out. The other wore a sexy schoolgirl outfit that seemed incongruous with her twisty horns and her tail.

"Guys, this is Ur. He's new. He's one of us, but he was the guy outside with the sketchbook. Introduce yourselves." Blake had to speak up a little, because music from the club came through the walls.

"Mara."

"Bahomet."

"Samael."

"Cargor."

The girl in the catsuit was "Anathema," and the girl in the schoolgirl outfit was "Brezzoleth."

There were a few humans there, too. Women. A blonde who looked like she was six months pregnant sidled up to Blake. She wore an oversized T-shirt, with the words, "Infernal Baby on Board."

"My girlfriend, Chloe," Blake said. "Chloe, Ur."

"Or just Gray," Gray told her.

"Hi just Gray," Chloe said with a grin.

"Can I sketch you? Won't take but a couple of minutes."

Chloe looked at Blake, who shrugged, and then back to Gray. "Sure!"

"Time for my bit of show business," Bahomet said. "Are the rest of you ready to go?"

"Sure," Mara said. "You know I always like to be first. No sloppy seconds for me."

"Let's go fuck some chicks," Samael said.

Brezzoleth rolled her eyes. "I'll gather the cucks," she said, and then to Anathema. "You joining me, or are you going to cruise?"

"Cruise," Anathema said.

Everyone but Blake, Chloe, and Cargor went out through a door, and the moment they opened it the thumping music of the club got a lot louder.

"Am I allowed to stay in my human form here?" Gray asked.

Cargor and Blake looked at each other. "It isn't a rule," Cargor said. "It's just a suggestion. But you'll stick out. We upped the dress code for the cucks. Hmm. Interesting problem."

"I could just sit in the corner, sketching," Gray suggested.

"We could say he's hired by the club to do some art," Blake said.

Cargor shrugged. "That works."

"Maybe once I get the vibe of the place I'll be good to change," Gray said. "I brought some clothes that fit my infernal form."

"You do understand that the women here want - well, they want the full demon experience," Cargor said.

"But as Tricia always says," Blake said. "We aren't here for them. They are here for us. This is our place. So if Gray, uh, Ur, wants to draw them, well, that's what they are here for. I do think that if you drew them while you were in demon form, you'd probably be able to get them to pose for you."

"I'd actually rather draw them acting naturally," Gray said.

He remembered Betty telling him, "Gray, I accept that my husband is who he is. What you've become. It's time you accepted it, too."

"You got this, Blake?" Cargor asked.

"Yep. Go have fun." Blake said. Then to Gray: "Alright, let's get you set up. I'm going to change, and then I'll find you a spot." He stripped off his jeans, opened one of the lockers on the side of the room. Then his skin rippled for a moment, and he was big and red, with horns that spiraled from the top of his head. He picked up his old jeans with his tail and took out a new pair with his hands, before putting on the new, larger pair.

"Want to store your stuff? Pick out a locker, any one that's empty. You don't have to worry about people stealing your stuff here. We demons stick together, and the only people allowed back here is us and the female staff."

"Speaking of staff, I need to get out there and work some, honey," Chloe said.

"Don't overdo," Blake said.

"I'm only six months," Chloe said. "Stop being so protective. I'll be fine."

"Sorry."

Chloe laughed. "I secretly love it."

"If you talk to people, let them know we have a staff artist."

Gray stashed his backpack, but held on to the pad, three pencils, and a rubber eraser. Then he followed Gray out.

It was loud, and the place was flooded with red light that made everyone look a little demonic, even the humans. It also made people more monochromatic, somehow, which might make them interesting to draw.

If the outfits had been revealing outside, they were more so now. Some of the women were naked, and many were topless. Some danced on the stage, alone and putting on a show or gathering in groups around tall, masculine figures with horns. Others mingled below, talking, flirting. There were nearly a hundred women, and a dozen demons.

In a corner of the room, Brezzoleth held court over less than a dozen men in tuxes who sat in rows on benches a little too short for them.

There was plenty to draw.

Blake - Belphegor - picked up a chair like it was weightless. "Pick a good spot."

Gray pointed to a spot on the edge. "There's fine. Should be able to see the stage, and a fair amount of the rest of the place."

Blake nodded. "Okay. Go for it. If you decide to go backstage, I'll notify the staff what you look like so they let you. Enjoy."

"You too."

Gray sat. It didn't take long before Blake was surrounded by women, most of which he seemed to know. Gray sketched, aware at some level that he was using his art to deal with his introversion.

Some of the girls, he noticed, had collars on them, made of blue steel. Slavery was legal in Ruritania, providing the master was a demon and the slave entered into the agreement of their own free will. More than a few Americans had gone to the Ruritanian embassy to give up their freedom, or as the Church of the Infernal Angels called it, to sell their souls.

They looked as happy as anyone there. More so, maybe. Serene? He wasn't sure that was quite right. Inferno wasn't a serene place. It was noisy and rambunctious, and now a demon was fucking a girl who was bent over the railing around the stage.

Gray sketched that. And then did another sketch when two girls slid in to lick the demon's balls. It was all a far cry from landscapes, and he had to move his pencil feverishly. Nothing stayed still at Inferno for more than a moment.

He didn't know how much time had passed when a voice interrupted him. An hour, perhaps.

"Mr. Harding?" A feminine voice said.

Oh, shit, someone I know. He looked up.

He knew he'd seen her, but he wasn't sure where, and had the sense that it had been a while. She was probably twenty-five now, with dark hair that just reached her shoulders, and an amused smile. A tight white shirt stretched over ample breasts. No slogan, just two red circles with horns positioned one over each nipple, and since the circles weren't filled in, he could tell she wasn't wearing a bra. She had one of those ultra-short skirts on, too, a black and red pleated one.

A memory flashed into his mind of her leaning over a car, wearing a rainbow swimsuit top and jeans shorts, with a bucket nearby and a sponge in her hand. Sara, that's what her name was.

"Eyes are up here, Mr. Harding."

"Sorry. The light, the shadow - anyway, nice to see you again, Sara." And it was, because she was lovely. It wasn't, because she was someone he knew, and who might talk. If he'd changed into his demon form, he'd be incognito, but his hands would be bigger, and he wasn't sure he could draw as well. Also, from the behavior he'd seen so far, he'd have a group of girls around him trying to flirt and blocking his view. Although they might be a pretty nice view themselves. There weren't any bad-looking women in Inferno.

"The light, the shadow. I bet you say that to all the girls." She glanced over at the men in the tuxedos, one of whom was now sucking on Brezzoleth's cock. Apparently she had a convenient zipper in her catsuit. Two others were nibbling on her toes. "I wouldn't have taken you for one of them."

"I'm not one of them," he said.

Sara smiled. "Well, um, you won't tell my parents you saw me here, will you, Mr. Harding? And I won't tell Betty."

"Betty knows," Gray said. "It was her idea."

"Branching out from landscapes?" Sara said, peering at his sketch pad, and the lewd pictures of demons and human women on it.

She remembered. That was flattering. He definitely remembered her ass in her tight shorts as she bent over the car. She must have washed that car every two weeks, and he'd sketched her more than a few times. "Sure."

"Well, still, you won't tell my parents? I guess I don't have anything to offer you in return."

As if a girl like that could ever not have anything to offer. Gray was annoyed with himself for the objectifying thought as soon as he considered it. "I won't tell."

"Of course they'll have to know when I find a master," she said. "Hopefully you won't have to keep the secret for long, before I find someone to collar me. Obviously then I'll have to be out and proud."

"Right. Yes. Hopefully. Good luck, Sara." He didn't know what to say for that.

"Well, nice to see you, Mr. Harding. Happy drawing."

He watched her walk away, seeing glimpses of her butt cheeks as her short skirt swayed. Someone was going to own that girl at some point. She was too cute to pass up. Blake, Bahomet, Mara - someone.

He got up and walked quickly toward the back room.

Sara looked around. So many big, hunky demons. And so much attractive competition. At least a dozen of the girls there had already earned a collar, and she was jealous.

It sure was weird running into Mr. Harding again. He had always seemed like such a nice man, and to see him drawing such erotic pictures had shocked her. She couldn't judge, of course, because she hoped to be used just like the women he was drawing. Still, for a human man to be into that struck her as different. I mean, really, all they could do was watch.

She supposed that's all he did when she was washing the car, too. She was aware of his eyes on her, and he wasn't the only one. It was kind of fun, being watched, and knowing she was safe. There was a reason over time her shorts had gotten shorter and her T-shirts had gotten tighter, and it wasn't just because she'd filled out some. She liked the attention. Of course, that was all before the demons. She wasn't interested in human men now.

She didn't just want to fuck demons, like many of the women there. She wanted more. She wanted to belong. She wanted to feel the collar around her neck and know that the electronics inside it would let her demon master always know where she was, and that they could shock her if she disobeyed. She wanted to be owned, not just borrowed and used and cast aside.

Although if her owner wanted to loan her out, then that would be different. Did she want to be whored out? It wasn't so much that, as that she wanted to have no choice in the matter.

For that, she would need to show she was worthy, she knew. That she was able to submit. That she had the skills to please. Honestly, she wasn't sure she did. Her sexual experience was limited. She wasn't a virgin, but she'd only had a few boyfriends, and only given a few blowjobs.

She sighed. How could she stand out in this crowd, and get someone to notice her. The idea of going up to a demon and even speaking to one made her nervous. And while she usually thought she looked pretty good at the office, or out and about in a restaurant or whatever, among these women she felt like she was nothing special. All 9's and 10's, she thought. And I'm an 8.

No, girl. You're a 9. Go right up to that big naked demon over there, the one with the really big horns, and the even bigger cock. You don't have to say anything, just go up to him and kneel. I really should say something, though. 'This girl wishes to serve.' I can say that.

Another demon, this one just wearing a pair of jeans, crossed her line of view before she had a chance to put her plan into action. Like all of them, he had a big broad chest, eight-pack abs, massive shoulders, and biceps as big as her legs. He was heading straight toward her!

She felt like fleeing, but she forced herself to freeze, instead.

"Hello there," came the deep, gravelly voice.

A demon talked to me! Oh! And he's looking me over!

She arched her back and thrust out her tits. "Uh, hi!" she said. Oh, very eloquent, girl. Nice.

"Yeah. Um. Hi."

God, he's as nervous as I am. Why? "Hi," she said again. "You're very big and, um, red. It's great! I - this girl wishes to serve." Should I go to my knees? Oh, I wish he'd just push me into place.

"Ha. Come here often?" Now he sounded more confident.

Sara shook his head. "First time! Inferno virgin." Shouldn't have said that. He probably wants someone with experience. No, he suspected it was my first time. Breathe.

"Me too. I'm Ur."

"Sara. For now."

"For now?"

"Well, someday someone might rename me." Sara congratulated herself on her subtle way of indicating what she was interested in.

"Sara's a nice name. Want to dance?"

"Dance? I'm all left fe--yes, of course. I would be happy to dance." The dancing she'd seen so far didn't stay as dancing, for the most part. There was usually a minute of dancing, followed by non-stop sex. The demons had almost no refractory time. Women were crawling on the stage to lick up the mess.

I'd never do that. Even if it's demon cum, it's gross. Then she noticed that one of the women had a Ruritanian slave collar on. But what if I was told to?

Ugh, my panties are so wet. Did I do the right thing in wearing them? And they're giving me a wedgie, too.

She realized that Ur had put out his hand, and placed hers in it. He chuckled. "Nothing to be nervous about, Miss Summers."

She was on the stage before she realized he'd used her last name, and she hadn't given it to him. And now his hand was on her waist and he expected her to dance. The music pounded in an insistently heavy 4/4 time. It wasn't hand on waist, the other in hand kind of music. It was primal, music for pole dancing or fucking or mad runs around a campfire.

Even if Ur wasn't the one, other demons would be watching. She had to make this good. She pressed up against Ur and slithered, moving up and down to the beat, rubbing her body against his groin. Something stirred there, and she found herself getting more and more turned on just being next to him. Demons had that effect, apparently. Just touching them was erotic. The scientists on the news said something about a compound called demonol, which had yet to be produced economically in a laboratory, but was apparently present in the demon sweat, saliva, and even more concentrated in their cum.

Ba-ba-ba-doom, ba-ba-ba-doom. He was just standing there, really, letting her do the work. As it should be, thought Sara. This was the best moment in her life, being up close and personal with a real demon. Her shirt kept bunching up, leaving her bare belly to press against him, and her hands came to rest on his hips. She started licking his chest, hoping he wouldn't mind. He tasted so good, sweet and spicy.

Then she remembered. "How do you know my name?" she asked, the spell broken for a moment.

"I was meaning to tell you," Ur said. "I'm Grayson Harding."

"Mr. Harding?" she asked, a little loudly, and unfortunately timed with a stop in the music.

"Sssh. I don't know that I want people to know."

The music started up again. Ba-da-ba-boom. "But Mr. Harding, it's wonderful. You should be proud."

He just smiled. "Well, I am, just - anyway. If you'd rather dance with someone else, I understand."

And start all over again? Besides, Mr. Harding was safe. Avuncular, even. She shook her head. "No, Mr. Harding. This girl lives to serve."

"Then call me Gray, and no more Mr. Harding."

"Gray," she repeated. Around her, a demon was walking around with a woman impaled on his cock, and another one was crawling naked behind him and sucking on his tail. A female demon was fucking a girl in the ass over the railing. Another big red male had a woman kissing each foot, one sucking his cock, and a fourth laving his balls.

It seemed the least she could do is keep dancing. This time, when her shirt rode up, he put his hands on her waist. As she danced, he slowly lifted them. If he kept that up, they'd be on her breasts soon. And maybe, he'd expose her tits to view.

Well, she'd be far from alone. In fact, on the stage, she was decidedly in the minority.

"Do you think you'd want a slave someday, Mr. - I mean Gray?" she asked. For a future master, she would do a lot.

"I hadn't really thought about it, until you came over to talk to me."

"And you're thinking about it now?"

"I'm thinking about it now."

"You'd want to know I'm worthy," Sara said. It was part of her fantasy, that to be owned meant to be found worthy of ownership. She had worked hard to become a nurse practitioner, and to become a slave might mean those skills would be put to use, and it might mean they were irrelevant. So slavery had to represent an accomplishment that was just as affirming.

He chuckled. "I would," he agreed. "But at least I'm not starting from scratch."

"We never really talked much," Sara said.

"No, we didn't. But you and Betty did, and Betty seems to think you're a very smart young woman."

Right. Betty. He was a married man. When Sara had been dating humans, that would have been a non-starter. She wondered why it was different now, but she didn't pull away.

Betty should serve him. If he wants multiple women, that's only right. He's a demon after all, and they're built that way. "Does she wear your collar, Gray?" she asked. She had almost said Sir.

Gray shook his head.

"She should," Sara said, from the heart, and instantly regretting it. It wasn't her place.

"Oh?" Gray asked. "Tell me more."

"We're not equals. We should serve."

"She serves fine without a collar," Gray said.

She licked his nipple. So good. If it aroused her more, and made her give herself to the moment, well that was just what she wanted. The scientist on the news said it wasn't mind control, which Sara found disappointing. "No worse than a beer," the scientist had said. "Well, unless we're talking the concentrations in semen. But by that time the deed has been done, as it were."

"You want a collar," Gray said.

"Yes!" She wanted to get to know someone first, of course. But she kind of knew Mr. Harding. Gray.

"Why?"

"It's permanent."

Gray chuckled. "So is marriage. Divorce, bolt cutters. All permanent until they aren't. Not that I'm planning on getting divorced."

She shook her head. She'd always be number two, she suspected, to his wife. Perhaps that was as it should be. Perhaps that would only serve to reinforce her servitude. To give up on being number one, to admit that he could have many and she could only have him.

"Why else?" he asked.

"So that you - I mean, my master, can control me. Punish me. So that I have no secrets. The latest ones have a camera in them, so that you can see everything I see, or record it for later. Audio, too. I want to be - I want to feel owned."

She pressed her belly against his crotch. Whatever he thought, he was getting hard. His dick liked it. She crouched down, and rubbed her breast against his groin. Jeans, and a few inches was all that separated demon cock from her red painted lips, and then he would leak intoxicating pre-cum onto her, and she wouldn't be able to help herself.

But this was shy Mr. Harding, who hardly ever spoke to her, even if he watched and drew her from the safety of his porch. He wouldn't push. Maybe he never would push her the way she wanted. Maybe, even though he was a demon, he couldn't truly own another woman. She couldn't imagine him pushing the button to shock her when she screwed up. He was too nice.

She pulled back, and looked up at him.

He slid his fingers into her hair. "That's what you want?" he said.

"Yes," she said apologetically.

His hands closed around her hair. He didn't pull, but she could feel the tension. "Is that what you want?" he asked again,

"Yes," she said. He could just move her around with a grip like that. So good.

"I need to know if you're worthy," he said.

"I need to know that, too," she said, with more honesty than she had wanted. She wanted to just tell him she was. But then, maybe having to be honest was part of it all, too. It wasn't the hot part. It made her squirm in a way that made getting shocked by a collar seem preferable. It was hard.

His hand tightened in her hair. "You like this?"

"Yes!" Even though it hurt.

"Because?"

"Because it - I don't know!"

"Are you into pain?"

She shook her head, which just made it hurt worse. "No! I hate it. But - it shows you have control."

"Heh," he said. "You're bringing something out in me, Sara. I don't know that it's safe."

"I want it," Sara said. "I want the demon in you. Gray. Ur."

"It's time I accepted it too," he said.

"Sorry?"

"Something Betty said. You want to serve me? Sexually?"

She resisted nodding, because that would hurt, and said, "Yes, Sir."

"Blow me, Sara. For now."

"For now?" she asked.

"Yes. Sara for now."

Oh. She fumbled with the button on his jeans. He still didn't pull her hair, just held it firm. She got it open, and unzipped it to reveal a massive red cock.

"I can't take it all," she said. She hadn't expected to be able to. But she doubted she could get even half way. Was it a foot long? She held it in her hands, studying it. It was nearly as thick as her wrist, and silky smooth. Just the purplish head was almost the size of her fist. And a little drop was forming at the slit.

Well, he'd told her to blow him. She didn't have to resist. She moved forward, and he moved his hand with her head, letting her. She licked the nascent drop. It tasted and smelled like cloves, and a little bit smoky. Just a little bit felt like a tease. Well, only one way to get more.

She stretched her lips around his cock and took some of him inside her mouth.

"Show me how much you can manage, Sara for now."

That was a tease, too. But she did as she was asked, moving her head forward, feeling him tickle against the back of her throat, then straining to take more.

A woman screamed in ecstasy, not far away. She had forgotten she was being watched, that she was doing this in front of a hundred or more people. She couldn't fail. She pressed forward. Women deep-throated huge cocks, it was just a matter of willpower, right? No one was going to out willpower her.

Then she pulled back, unable to take it, an instinctive need for safety and her gag reflex combining to make her pant for air. The sweet smoky clove tasted of him lingered in her mouth, but she was doing all she could not to throw up.

I failed. And I can't even talk right now, can't tell him I'm sorry, or that I'll try again.

"Well," he said. "You certainly gave it your best shot."

A blonde walked up, wearing nothing but a crop top over big tits that said, "I fuck demons," and impossibly high heels. She had a little demon tattoo over her shaved pussy, which was right at face level for Sara, and she was gorgeous. "I can take it all, if she can't," said the blonde. "Would you like me to try?"

"That's alright," Gray said. "I'm with this girl now." He leaned over and took hold of Sara's shirt, and she let him take it off. Her breasts weren't the biggest, but they weren't small, and they were nice and firm.

The blonde shrugged. "She can do your balls. Or rim you. No need to be with one at a time. You're a demon."

Sara knew, really, that she could try twenty times and she'd not be able to do it. She hadn't gotten more than half of him in. But she could outdo the blonde in some other way. "Please, Sir, you deserve the best," she said. "And I want you to know that I will never hold you back from getting what you want, and I will always help in any way I can. I am yours to command."

"Well," Gray said. "I commanded you to blow me, so go back to doing that. In your own way, just do the best job you can."

Sara eagerly put his cock inside her mouth again. And this time, she used her hands on the rest of him. She had given more handjobs than blowjobs anyway, and she knew what to do with her hands. She had a little trick that worked, at least on humans, where she slid them up and down while rotating one clockwise, and one counter-clockwise. Of course on most cocks there wasn't room for much else, but that left plenty of demon cock for her lips and tongue.

"A rim job would be great," Gray said to the blonde. "I've never had one, actually."

Even Sara's desire to serve couldn't stop her from thinking, take that, bitch.

The woman went to her knees behind Gray.

Ugh. What if he learns to like it?

A slave would have no choice.

He leaked more sweet smoky pre-cum onto her tongue, and it flowed so much that she almost thought he'd came. But he didn't tell her to stop, so she continued, hoping that there would be even more, an explosion. This is what I want. I want to suck demon cocks all my life. She imagined being owned, having no choice, but she would in fact choose it anyway. Just as she would have switched places with the blonde, not because she wanted to, and even though she still had a choice, because she yearned to serve. To be worthy.

Another noisy woman, and awareness returned of the rest of the place again.

To proudly serve.

She focused on the moment. Her hands, her lips, her tongue. Giving him the maximum pleasure she should give, not caring that her thighs and calves ached from crouching, or that her pussy ached, in a different way, craving pleasure. Her panties were soaked, now, which meant it would be running down her legs if she'd gone without.

What would he want, with or without? That was what mattered. And right now, his pleasure. He was swelling now. He had to be close. Hands. Lips. Tongue. Give it to me, please.

It gushed out and nearly triggered her gag reflex again, but at least that made her swallow. And then more, filling every bit of her mouth that his cock wasn't already occupying, so much that the clove smell filled her nostrils. He was, almost literally, the air she was breathing. She swallowed and swallowed, but still, some leaked out of her mouth, thinned with drool, dropping on to her tits, her knees, and the dance floor.

Did I fail again? She just couldn't swallow it all. She was still swallowing as he pulled back, causing the blonde to stumble. She looked up at him, trying to read his reaction.

"Lick it from your tits," he said, his voice almost a growl.

"I can do it," said the blonde.

"No, let her," Gray said.

She pushed them up, but they weren't that big, and she couldn't get it all that way. So she scooped it up with her fingers, and then licked her fingers off.

"And from your knees."

She sat down, not sure how else she would manage that, and brought her knees to her mouth. She was aware he could see her wet panties. They were white, and probably transparent now. They were probably leaking onto the floor, too.

"Do you want me to lick your cum off the floor, Sir?" asked the blonde.

"No, I want Sara for now to do it."

Ugh.

"Sara for now?" asked the blonde.

"Her name is Sara. For now."

"Ah. I'm Tori."

"Yeah. Thanks for the rimjob. Leave us, now."

Sara bent down to lick the splotches of cum off the floor. God knew how many other demons had cum on that floor, but then, at least it was all demons. And he wanted her to do it, and not just anyone. Not even a perfect 10 of a blonde. And it tasted good. Better than ice cream, and she'd licked that off a floor once. And, admittedly, told herself never again, but it had been chocolate swirl and a really good brand at that, and the floor had been pretty clean.

The blonde's heels sounded like gunshots on the floor as she walked away.

"You've proven you would, Sara," Gray said. "You don't have to keep doing it. I'm sure there's a mop somewhere."

She looked at him. "Is it hot for you?"

"Yeah."

"Then I should do it."

"Not if I know something that's hotter. It's hot, but also a little gross." He handed her her shirt. "Use this."

"Yes, of course." Well, she was either going topless, or wearing a dirty, cum-stained shirt for the evening. She took the shirt and mopped the cum up. Most of it had ended up in her mouth, and most of the rest had landed somewhere on her. There were only a few small globs on the floor.

"Good girl," he said.

Those words shouldn't have felt so good, but they did.

"Now, you're horny, aren't you?"

"Yes, Sir, but my needs are not important. Would you like to go again? Perhaps in some other way?"

"No. I want to see if you can follow direction. Take those panties off, and hump yourself on my leg, Sara for now."

Oh god. He knew, didn't he? He knew they weren't equals. She stood, slid down her panties, stepped out of them, and then crouched again to rub herself against his leg, as directed.

Another girl came and offered to help pleasure him, and he declined, graciously.

Sara felt guilty that she was getting his jeans all wet. But she was doing what he'd ordered her to do, and she wasn't going to question it. Hopefully he understood that would be a result. Her clit felt like it was huge, she was so ready for release.

"May I cum?" she asked, when she knew she couldn't rub anymore without climaxing.

"You must," he told her.

That was all it took. She shuddered, and grabbed onto his waist for balance so that she could keep obeying. His cock, still hard after all that cum, batted her in the cheek. She spotted a drop on the tip and licked it up, all without stopping grinding her pussy against his leg.

"Again, may I?" she asked.

"Cum for me."

She felt like she was the most shameless hussy ever. The sounds of the club did not let her pretend she wasn't being watched, but she kept her eyes on him. She didn't care what else was going on.

"Again, may I please cum, Sir?"

"Cum, Sara for a little while."

What would he name her? She screamed her pleasure, and then collapsed. He hadn't told her to stop, but her thighs couldn't do anymore, and her core couldn't keep her balance, either. She just lay there, looking up at him, her skirt the only garment she had left and that bunched up so that it covered no more than a wide belt would.

"Like that. Stay exactly like that," he told her. And then he pulled up his pants, zipped, and walked away toward the rear of the club.

She didn't know what to do. It was beyond lewd to stay like that. Her legs were open, and anyone could see everything, really. But he'd ordered her to stay. For a moment she wondered if someone, some demon, would just come up and start fucking her while she was frozen in place. Part of her wanted that.

Part of her thought it would be hard to stay exactly like that, if she got fucked.

Why had he walked away? He could be the one fucking her, taking her hard against the floor.

The thump of the music kept a sort of time for her, but it still seemed like she had been lying there, propped up on her elbows, nearly forever.

Gray was walking back toward her, sketchbook in hand. He flipped to a page, and started drawing. Drawing her bare breasts, her open pussy. She realized that she'd missed a bit of cum, and it was sitting on her chin. It was like an itch to scratch. She tried to get it with her tongue.

"No," he said. "Don't move."

Her elbows hurt, but she endured. And at last he said, "Got it. Not used to drawing with these fingers, they're bigger. Come sit at a table with me?"

She nodded. It would be a relief to change position. And she felt dazed - maybe it was the demonol, maybe it was the orgasms, maybe it was just little bits of her fantasies coming true. But she followed him off the stage to a table, smoothing her skirt as well beneath her as she could, and he signaled a busty waitress in a "I got DP'd at Inferno," shirt and a thong.

"What would you like to drink?"

"A Sprite?" she asked.

"I think I can spring for that. And a shot of Fireball, please."

"Yes, Sir!" said the waitress, and then she was gone.

Gray turned to Sara. "Any regrets?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. Thank you."

"Want more?"

"I don't want what I want to matter," she said. "But I'm exhausted."

"You didn't answer my question. That's a bad habit, and you'll have to overcome it. Assuming you want more. Not more right now. More, in general. More, over time."

He wasn't quite saying 'in the long term.' But hopefully he meant that, or would come to mean it. "Yes, Gray. I want more." She paused, thought about it for a second, and then added, "From you."

"Why from me?"

"Because I think you have what it takes. Could I shop around, and compare different demons? I probably could, and you might say that I should. But I don't want to be a girl who chooses a demon. I want to be a girl who gets chosen."

"And you want me to choose you."

She bit her lip and said nothing.

"Answer," he said.

"Yes. I should say, I think so, but yes."

"Interesting." He pulled out his sketchbook. "I guess to make an intelligent choice, I'll need to know all about you. Study you carefully. Every curve, every line. And every bit of your mind. So, you talk, I'll listen, and I'll draw. No, not there. Get up on the table, and lie back, I'll draw you from the side. That's it. Good girl."

Good girl. She closed her eyes and blissed out, rehearing it in her mind.

"I said for you to talk. Tell me all about you, Sara. Every thing you think I might possibly need to know."

Ugh. She'd rather rim him. Or lick cum off the floor.

But she wasn't going to fail him. She started talking, and she didn't stop except until he told her to take her skirt off, and have a sip of the Sprite the waitress brought to wet her whistle.

Then he flipped the page and started a new drawing. "Continue."

They spent the night that way, her talking, him listening and sketching. The boom of the music, the bustling waitresses, the sounds of sex, none of those mattered.

At the end of the evening he showed her one of the sketches. It was unmistakably her. Sara. Sara for now. She could see nothing different, nothing changed. And yet, somehow, the girl in the picture was a perfect 10.