Don't F#&% with the Occult, Scooby Doo! ((UnHolyPimpHand & Emstar303))

[Emstar303]

Velma’s shriek of surprise was overshadowed by the monster’s screech as it dismounted and took to the air. She heard the heavy flapping of its wings as it flew away from her, deeper into the darkness of the cavern. He’d pulled out and away so swiftly, a line of sticky semen ran from Velma’s cunt several feet behind her in the direction the beast had flown.

Velma lay in the darkness, gooey monster cum leaking out of her plump, juicy cunt. Her breathing was only just calming down from pleasure and adrenaline when her heart was set racing again as her glasses came tumbling from above!

“Jinkies! Seems we’ve got a friendly monster on our hands,” Velma mused. She rubbed her glasses on her sweater out of habit more than necessity, seeing as things were still pitch black. Nonetheless, Velma put her glasses on before standing shakily. Her legs felt like jelly and her pussy ached from the fierce pounding she’d received first from her boyfriend and then the mysterious beast.

Velma made her way back to her hotel room slowly. That had been enough clue-searching for now. She hoped she’d have time to go over what she’d found with the gang before dinner. She wasn’t sure how much she was going to tell them about her... encounter with the beast. She was quite embarrassed about it herself. She couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid to think it had been Shaggy... and to think she’d enjoyed it so much, even when she’d realized it wasn’t him. She’d literally been raped by a flying cave bat monster's cock and had cum so hard... How was she supposed to admit that to the gang?!




Oswald was acting coldly towards her again. Perhaps indifferent was the better word, but when people were indifferent toward Daphne she assumed they were being cold. Daphne was a pretty girl and used to people being kind to her almost all of the time.

She’d tried to make pillow talk with him, but Oswald was not in the mood. The quick, sharp look he gave her reminded her of the fierce, angry gaze he’d had for her earlier when he'd pinned her to the cave wall. Smoke filled the air as he lit a cigarette. He didn’t look at her as he tossed a towel in her direction through the puff of smoke. And then he left, just like that.

Daphne huffed on the bed, coughing a little from the smoke. She’d just been filled with cock, but she felt empty.



After Shaggy was gone Ophelia took a scalding hot shower, then a bath with oils and flowers, then a shower again. She felt disgusting. She vowed never to debase herself in such a way again, even if it were for the good cause of a sexual domination contest with her brother.

She prepared herself for dinner slowly, even though she knew her father would reprimand her for it. She was in no rush to see him or their latest guests. She wanted to catch up with Oswald to find out if fucking the idiot had been worth it. She should have checked the time before fucking him, because if Ozzy had managed to seduce one of the female members, they may have a hard time determining who had truly won. Ophelia was angry at herself for having wasted so much time on foreplay. To think she thought that moron could make her cum properly. No, Ophelia needed a particular dance; she needed her brother.

Though she got a rush from dominating from time to time, she usually reserved her domination for the guys she took to her bed outside of her incestuous relationship. With Oswald, she liked being under his command. He was the only one she would act so submissive with.

Ophelia changed into a lacy black dress that accentuated her hourglass shape and tiny waist. It had a neckline that drew attention to her large breasts. She shut the door to her room regretfully and started towards dinner. She walked slow, hoping she’d run into Ozzy along the way. She’d brushed her teeth and showered several times, but felt the only way she’d truly feel clean was a kiss and a good fuck from him. Ophelia needed to be truly cleansed, and the only way to do so was through union with her twin.



Daphne had found the dress Oswald had mentioned in her closet, but she had a suitcase full of outfits, about 10% of which were cocktail dresses. You never knew when an event may call for one, especially when it came to gathering information. Men tended to be more loose-lipped when they had something sexy to stare at. Daphne put on a hip-hugging black cocktail dress with sheer fabric cutouts to accentuate her waist and chest. After a confusing day with Freddy and an even more confusing sexual experience with Oswald, Daphne was determined to draw Oswald’s gaze back in tonight after his rather cold goodbye.

She ran into Velma on her way to dinner. Quite literally, she did. Both women collided at the intersection to the hall to the dining room and Velma's glasses went flying.

"Oh, sorry," Daphne said. She smiled when she saw it was Velma. She helped her recover her glasses. It was a relief to see her friend. Daphne needed Velma to help her make sense of everything that happened today.

Unfortunately for Daphne, Velma wasn't feeling her brightest. Her mind was turning over the afternoon's experience in her head, and she still couldn't make sense of it.

"I have so much to tell you!" Daphne exclaimed. She grabbed Velma by the hand. It was unusual for Daphne to be the one to offer up information, so she was excited to tell Velma about the stalagmite lever and the beast. She also hoped her intelligent, level minded friend could offer an explanation.

Velma clutched Daph's hand in return, happy to see a familiar face. Shaggy had been gone when she'd got back to their room, so she hadn't had a chance to verify if it were him fucking her back there. She knew it wasn't him, but she had to be sure.

Did the culprit have the mask glued to his face? Some sort of super sticky adhesive? But then what about the wings? It didn't make sense and Velma needed it to make sense. Only Shaggy could clear that up. Logically, she knew it couldn't be her boyfriend, but she had to hear it from him to be sure. She was kind of dreading telling him though, in doing so she'd be admitting she'd cheated on him, but then again it hadn't been intentional. She'd been raped, even if had liked it. Even though she had cum around that monster's cock harder than she'd ever from her dumbass boyfriend, it was still rape. Velma knew that… logically. Emotionally? Fuck she couldn't stop thinking about it.

Velma looked up into her pretty friend's eyes to bring her back to the present. She had to focus on the moment at hand. They were to have dinner with their mysterious and suspicious gothic hosts tonight, where hopefully she would uncover more information.

"Velma? Are you listening? I'm telling you I was attacked by a monster! Well, I'm sure it wasn't a real monster but you know what I mean!" Daphne said rather loudly.

Velma's eyes widened. "A monster? Jinkies, Daphne! I think I…" She searched for the right word. Raped seemed too severe. Attacked didn't seem severe enough. She didn't want to set her sensitive friend into a panic, especially when they were about to surely uncover some clues at dinner, so she didn't want to tell Daphne the full story yet.

"I had an encounter with the beast as well."

"Are you serious? What happened?"

Before Velma could answer, Scobby Doo appeared further down the hallway, looking glum.

As he approached, Daphne called out to their loyal canine. "Hey, Scoob! Where are you going? I thought for sure you’d be the first at the dinner table."

“R’i was r’exiled,” Scooby wailed dejectedly.

Daphne knelt down and pet his head gently, “Aww I'm sorry, Scooby. I promise we'll sneak you something back from dinner.”

After Scooby passed, Daphne turned back to Velma, expecting to keep up their conversation.

"Let's talk about it after dinner. We're already late. Just don't go touching any stalagmites along the way," Velma said. She attempted to get moving again but Daphne grabbed her forearm.

"Woah, this isn't like you. You always want to discuss clues and usually Shaggy's the one thinking about food. I knew dating him was bad for your mental health."

"No, I think you mean my intelligence."

"Both, then."

Velma sighed. She really wanted to tell Daphne, but that would just open up an entirely too long conversation that she didn't have time for. Plus, Daphne was almost worse than Shaggy when it came to subtly.

"I'll tell you and the rest of the gang after dinner. I don’t want to jeopardize our investigation. Let's just try and be friendly and get as much information out of them as we can in a completely normal, non-suspicious way."

"All right, all right," Daphne sighed.

The female members of the Mystery Gang entered the dining room just as the patriarch of the Redding family was offering Fred and Shaggy some wine.

Daphne was impressed with the beautiful dining room and their older, mysterious hostess. For once, her eyes did not seek out Freddy immediately when she entered the room. Instead, she looked for Oswald, but unfortunately, he was nowhere to be seen. Frowning slightly, her eyes found the next best thing. He looked like Oswald, but he was tanner and much older. Daphne was taken aback for a moment at how handsome he was. He lacked the gothic flair of his children. He looked refined and strong.

“Good evening, everyone,” Daphne said to announce their presence. She barely looked at Fred as she took her seat beside Velma at the table

“Well don’t you look handsome!” Velma joked to Shaggy as she settled in, careful not to rip her own ill-fitting outfit. His suit was all crumpled and wrinkly.

The dress Velma had been leant was far too slender and far too long for her. It was supposed to stop at her knees, but on her short frame it trailed all the way to the floor. It squeezed her plump figure uncomfortably. She’d had to undo the corset considerably and had nearly gone without it. Her tits looked about ready to burst through the lacy fabric. She felt self-conscious even breathing, worried breathing too heavy would cause her breasts to tear the fragile fabric.

"I'm sorry for our appearance," Daphne said, though it was obvious she was only apologizing for Shaggy and Velma. "The Brunello would be lovely, thank you. I'm Daphne Blake. Pleased to meet you."

"Are you the owner of this hotel? It really is quite the unique location." Velma inquired, wasting no time in getting down to business. "I'm Velma."

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

When he spotted Ophelia walking toward the dining room, Oswald—still in the process of getting himself dressed, ducked into one of the small crevices that split off from the main walkway. In the dark, he was completely hidden. He waited for her, he hungered for her—Christ he missed her so much and they’d been fucking each other just a few hours ago. Indeed, he felt incomplete and hollow without his twin in his arms.

As she passed, he lunged out and snatched her into the crevice with him—where there was barely enough room for him, much less the two of them together. But Oswald didn’t mind, his sister’s firm breasts pressing against his chest, his lips hungry against hers, his hands moving up her form-fitted skirt.

“I hope you didn’t subject yourself to the humiliation of bedding one of those morons—especially since I won our little wager some time ago,” while Oswald teased her with his words, his fingers teased her below her skirt, “I fucked the redhead, came in her eye—but my only joy came from knowing that I was earning dominion over you. As lovely as she is, I felt nothing from bedding her—nothing but impatience for when I would again share a bed with you.”

Without waiting for a reply, Ozzy dove back into the kiss, hiking one of her legs around his hip and grinding his growing erection between her thighs.

*-*-*

The cork made a brief squeal as Oliver pulled it deftly from the neck of the old, green bottle. A burgundy napkin had been used to wipe away the dust from the surface of the bottle before he opened it. He wafted the cork under his nose, smelling for signs of corkage or spoiling in the wine—he detected none. He wafted the cork under Daphne’s nose next before answering her greeting and barely acknowledging Velma.

“Miss Blake, I believe I know of your family—the Crystal Grove Blakes, if memory serves. And you certainly have nothing to apologize for, as you look absolutely stunning,” a sidelong glance went to Shaggy and Velma before Oliver poured the dark red wine into a crystal glass which he took from the table, “my children, however, seem to have lost their ability to keep time—such is the peril of residing in a cave for so long.”

Oliver smiled, but it was clear there was genuine rage behind his words. If he’d been slightly less charming, Daphne might have noticed the tiny, white drop of something extra that he dropped into the bottom of the glass before filling it with wine. He turned the bottle swiftly, preventing even a drop from spilling as he halted the pour.

The semen of an incubus was so potent, even a small drop consumed by a mortal could drive them nearly mad with lust—or at least the legends said so. Velma’s glass was similarly treated with other-worldly fluids before it was handed over.

Oliver filled his own glass last, this time leaving out the special ingredient before passing the bottle to Fred—the more capable of the two so-called gentlemen who came with these lovely ladies.

“A toast!” Oliver raised his glass, gently touching the lip melodically against Daphne’s glass, “to the finer things in life and sharing them with those who can appreciate them.”

Oliver drank—sucking air through his teeth to aerate the wine in his mouth. The time underground had been good for the Italian red. The complexity was exceptional and the fruit came strong through the nose.

“Black cherry, rosewood notes…” Oliver was swirling the wine in his glass, observing the “legs” as it dripped down the sides, “just a hint of smoke and some blackberry on the nose.”

While he was discussing the wine, Oliver watched Velma and Daphne most of all, making sure they drank from their tainted glasses. K’Zaylenn would be pleased with these offerings of flesh.

 

[Emstar303]

Ophelia gasped in surprise as she was pulled out of the hallway and into one of the hidden crevices along the wall. Her brother was the culprit, thank god. His lips and hands found her in the darkness. Her breasts pressed hard into his chest, her body forced up against his in the tight crevice. Ophelia sighed peacefully into his mouth and wrapped her hands around his neck. Holding him was always so comforting. She did not care about the wickedness of it; she needed her brother.

Oswald insisted he won their bet some time ago. As he spoke, his fingers moved from her outer thigh to her inner thigh and then in between them. Her brother was very talented with his fingers, deft and agile, one movement seamlessly transitioning into another. Those talented fingers pressed against her center, teasing her. Ophelia mewled softly in desire while she listened to him tell her that though he fucked the redhead, he’d only been thinking of her. She opened her mouth to speak, to lament her own experience and beg him to fuck her, but his lips were already devouring hers again. The busty gothic beauty moaned into her twin’s mouth, her tongue sweeping along his in a searing kiss.

His words filled her with warmth at the power she held over him even when she was away. He was so devoted to her as she was to him. She regretted fucking Shaggy even more now. They had no way to determine who had won. It was all for nothing! Ophelia broke the kiss only when she could not stand it anymore. He’d hooked her leg around his waist, grinding his erection into her center and she moaned openly, throwing her head back.

“Oh, Ozzy!” She exclaimed. She reached down to undo his pants. “It was horrible! I fucked the stupid one… well, they’re both stupid….I mean the lanky, perpetuatly stoned one. I showered three times but still feel foul.” Ophelia admitted her dalliance like it was a sin. She gazed into her twin’s eyes. “Please, I need you to cleanse me of that buffoon.”

Ophelia pulled her panties aside with one hand and reached for her brother’s cock with the other. She ground her body against her twin’s, moaned as she felt his hardness against her.

“Will you please fuck me? Fuck me right here, Oswald, please,” Ophelia begged her twin.



Daphne was pleased when Oliver offered her the cork to smell out of courtesy. He had clearly identified her as the sophisticated member of the gang and she appreciated him noticing that fact. She gave the cork a long sniff then gave a short nod to indicate her approval. Then Oliver began pouring glasses for her and Velma before passing the wine bottle off to the boys.

She was pleasantly surprised Oliver had heard of her family even all the way out here in the middle of nowhere, and even more pleased to hear him compliment her appearance. She knew she looked good, but it was nice to hear it every once in a while.

"A toast!” Oliver raised his glass, gently touching the lip melodically against Daphne’s glass, “to the finer things in life and sharing them with those who can appreciate them.”

The others clinked their glasses clumsily then took a sip of wine.

“Mm, I can taste the blackberry,” Daphne said. She took another long sip.

Velma had no idea if Daphne knew what she was talking about. She probably did, Daphne seemed sophisticated, but there was no way to know for sure. Velma kept quiet as Daphne made small talk with their host. She was used to being overlooked. She took long sips of her wine. She wanted to gather more information about their hosts and location - this stuff was all just pleasantries - but she'd been the one to tell Daphne to keep her cool, and she had to do the same. It would not look good if Velma started asking suspicious questions.

Velma observed the last of their hosts carefully. There was just something off about him. She thought back to all the.clues they’d found. The fact their hosts had rifled through their bags, the piles of money, and most importantly her and Daphne’s encounters with a monster. Unfortunately for Velma, she would soon become too consumed with lust to think about anything else, much less interrogate their host.

The more wine she drank, the harder her thoughts were to form, yet she could not stop drinking. The wine was.addictive and she kept wanting more. Velma was feeling warm. She rubbed her leg against Shaggy's under the table and almost moaned at the brief physical contact.

“What kind of wine did you say this was again? It's so strong.” Daphne asked what Velma was feeling.

Daphne was feeling lightheaded but warm. Her fingertips held the stem of the wineglass delicately as it rested on the table. Despite how strong the wine was, like Velma, Daphne could not help herself but to drink more!

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

“No!” Oswald pushed Ophelia’s back against the wall, suddenly adamant as though he were determined to deny her earnest pleas, “tonight, when I claim my prize, with the devil and our father watching—then I will fuck you. But now, here, alone—together, now I will make love to you. Because I do.”

Oswald’s fingers crept around his twin’s slender throat as he kissed her and penetrated her at once. The shove with his hips was rougher than the shove he’d given to her shoulders. The cave walls were older than civilization and were unforgiving as he pushed her against it—harder each time he withdrew and pushed back.

There wasn’t much time—they were expected at dinner some time ago, but neither one of them gave a damn. Oswald needed this just as much as Ophelia did, he just wouldn’t say so out loud. Daphne’s body had been above average—but the girl herself was insufferable. He could scarcely imagine what that lanky buffoon had done to his cherished twin sister.

His breaths came in dense huffs through his nose as he continued staking her to the wall, squeezing tighter around her throat as they pressed their bodies closer, becoming one with the rock. Becoming one with the other.

“Everything changes for us tonight,” Oswald sighed, releasing her throat in favor of her thigh and breast—which he squeezed just as tightly as he had her throat, “no longer will we cower in the shadows, sneaking around like rats. Tonight, we become the vipers. We’ll wrestle power from the devil himself and fuck like beast on our shared throne.”

He bit her bottom lip and pulled, lightly but not gently, forcing her to slowly drag her plump, bottom lip from between his front teeth.

“The times of Gods and Men are at an end. By next dawn we shall emerge to a world that belongs only to us. We’ll fuck at sunrise over the old man’s corpse before he even turns cold.”

*-*-*

“I’m sorry, Master. Explain again, please,” the pathetic, hair-lipped imp that K’zaylenn knew only as Dingleberry stared back, no hint of comprehension in his wide, yellow eyes. He was drooling from the cleft in his top lip, as he was wont to do.

“You miserable fucking thing, I’m trying to give you an opportunity! I say again, I’m going to be gone for a while—but our great, fallen jailor will not be glad to miss me. I want you to manage the imps in my absence—carry things along as through I were here, taunt the tormented, ravage the rapists, flay the skin from flesh—et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Hm, yes. Handle the pet sephoras, got it.”

“No—moron! Et cetera means ‘all the rest!’”

“The rest of what?”

“Your duties!”

“Dingle does as he’s told…” the long-suffering imp was thoroughly lost, his drool was dripping from his chin.

“Insufferable!” K’zaylenn drew back his fist to pummel the filthy, incompetent thing—when suddenly, and unrelated to his current situation, his cock stood straight up, like it was suddenly infused with steel. Suddenly, it seemed awkward to punch his subordinate while his cock was hard. Someone might get the wrong idea.

“Listen. Oversee the other imps while I’m gone. If anyone asks, I’m just working on a new torture method—it might take months. Don’t let anyone come looking for me. Got it?”

“Um… Master… are you going to… with your…”

“That’s got nothing to do with you! Just say you understand!”

Dingleberry just nodded, dumbly, his drool now linking his chest to his chin. K’zaylenn had little hope that the fool thing had understood—but there was no time to make better arrangements. He left Dingleberry’s company gladly, rushing back to his private quarters.

Things were moving quickly, some mortals had consumed his essence—now they would crave him. They would need more—and he intended to give it to them.

“Summon my sister, tell her to bring whatever she needs,” K’zaylenn conjured a bat in his palm and gave it instructions. At least his constructs could be relied upon.

From a burlap sack in the corner, K’zaylenn produced a live chicken—featherless and grey, the thing was miserable. K’zaylenn did it a favor by snapping its head off. He splattered the sacrifice’s blood across the ritual circle and began chanting.

*-*-*

Oliver smiled at Daphne, he could tell the gift of the incubus was working on her already—she would make such a delightful sacrifice. She asked about the wine almost immediately with a girlish coyness about what she must be feeling.

“Do you waltz, Miss Blake? My children remain incompetent in the arts—not to mention habitually tardy. It would delight me to have someone to dance with for a change.” Oliver was pouring it on thick, perhaps more than he had to—as Miss Blake seemed positively starved for intellectual companionship.

Oliver didn’t wait for her to answer, walking over to the small bar area and lowering the needle on an antique phonograph record player. A haunting waltz began to play.

“Come now, don’t over think it. Dance with me,” Oliver took Daphne’s hand in his, placing his other hand on her waist, his palms were smooth and dry, “I’ll lead.”

On the other side of the exquisite dining room, things were going considerably less smoothly than Oliver’s effortless waltz. Shaggy heard Velma moaning, but mistook her arousal for discomfort. The way she was squirming in her seat, the deep flush across her cheeks and nose—all signs of apparent discomfort.

“Like, don’t worry, man,” Shaggy leaned over to her at the still empty dining table, placing a clammy but (he hoped) reassuring hand on her bare shoulder, “the dress isn’t that small on you, and—like, I don’t think anybody even noticed that it doesn’t fit.”

 

[Emstar303]

Oliver ignored her question and insisted she dance with him. By the time he’d taken her by the hand Daphne had forgotten her question about the wine. Their mysterious host led her in an elegant waltz to haunting, beautiful music. The pressure of his hand on hers and the heat of his gaze felt erotic. She hoped Freddie was watching…ugh, no, that didn’t matter! This guy was kinda old… but he was still good looking and damn, why was she so horny right now?! Daphne’s hand squeezed Oliver’s tighter as they continued dancing. Subconsciously she moved her body closer to his. It was close but not close enough. Despite her crippling arousal, Daphne was able to dance the waltz almost as elegantly as usual.

“Your waltz is incredible, Oliver,” Daphne said as he whirled her around. She was getting lost in his dark mysterious eyes. The longer they danced, the closer she moved her body towards his, so soon her breasts were rubbing against his chest every so often. She hoped it wasn’t too obvious and could be interpreted as part of the dance.

Back at the table, Shaggy was trying to figure out why Velma looked so uncomfortable when in reality she was fighting arousal.

“Like, don’t worry, man,” Shaggy leaned over to her at the still empty dining table, placing a clammy but (he hoped) reassuring hand on her bare shoulder, “the dress isn’t that small on you, and—like, I don’t think anybody even noticed that it doesn’t fit.”

Shaggy is such a fucking idiot, thought Velma while their handsome host swayed Daphne around the room. She was feeling jealous and suspicious. Daphne was right, the wine was strong. Something felt wrong, but she couldn’t concentrate on her suspicion because Shaggy’s bony leg next to hers was just so warm. Velma was so aroused. She didn’t even mind that her dress was so tight and constricting anymore, in fact, there was something sexy about it, how it forced her generous tits upwards underneath straining lace.

“Shaggy,” she breathed. She ran her hand along his upper thigh under the table and boldly cupped his limp cock. It was still bigger than most men’s were erect “I wanna fuck so bad right now,” Velma said. The word “you” was interestingly enough left out. Velma just needed to fuck. It didn’t matter who.

The incubus seed was stronger than expected; it was taking over the women’s senses so all they could think about was sex.

***

Ophelia grunted when Ozzy pushed her back into the wall with some force, though it was not enough to truly hurt. His words quickly assured her of his devotion to her. Ophelia’s heart swelled at his words. Before she could respond he kissed her deeply and penetrated her. He held her by the throat with a hand, holding her in place as they kissed passionately.

Ophelia moaned into his mouth as his pace sped up. His hips slammed her into the rock wall with each thrust. It would leave bruises, but Ophelia didn’t care. She was being cleansed. She needed this. She needed her twin, needed him to be rough and cleanse her from the inside out.

His grip on her throat tightened as he fucked – no – made love to her. His cock reached so deeply inside her tight, velvet sheath. Her pussy was getting more wet with each thrust. She ran her hands along his back and shoulders, occasionally scratching him with her long painted nails. He moved his hand from her throat and groped at one of her large, bouncing breasts with one hand and her thigh with the other. He squeezed her assets tight and fucked her hard as he spoke of their dark plans.

A smile grew across her lips the more her brother spoke. He painted a pretty picture. Before she could comment on it he bit her bottom lip between his teeth in something of a kiss. Ophelia dragged her lips down to his chin as he began speaking again. She moved downward from there, nipping, biting, and kissing his neck.

“The world will belong to us… You and me…,” Ophelia moaned into his neck. After months of research and preparation, the ritual was finally going to take place tonight.

She felt her body tensing, longing for release. The gothic beauty lifted one of her legs, then the other and hooked them around his waist. The angle hit her deeper and she moaned in desperation. She began to bounce her hips faster atop her twin, her juicy ass eclipsing his cock again and again. Her ass jiggled in his hands as her breasts bounced against his face. Ophelia had a perfect hourglass figure her twin drooled over. He also knew exactly how to attend to its needs.

“Oh Ozzy, I’m gonna –” Ophelia’s words devolved into an unintelligible moan as she started orgasming, her warm, wet pussy contracting around his cock tightly. Her jet black nails dug into his shoulders and her head banged roughly into the rock wall as she lost herself to pleasure.

***

Eventually, K’zaylenn sent one of his constructs to Desponia’s little piece of Hell to alert her that it was time. Desponia could barely contain her excitement. She may have senselessly murdered a handful of imp slaves in her glee - but it was fine, the pitiful createrse were plentiful.

Returning to the surface wasn’t exactly against the rules, but it was frowned upon to return without a reason from Luifief…. And frankly, that’s what made it all the more fun! She was a succubus, not a fucking saint.

When she got to K’zaylenn’s chambers she found him clutching a chicken by the throat and spreading its blood over the ritual circle like one would drench a pasta with sauce. Desponia waited until he was done to interrupt. Normally she would playfully interrupt his ritual, but not today. Today was serious. They were breaking out of the Underworld, after all!

Desponia waited until the proper moment, only then did she speak. “Tell me it’s finally time, as you know the only other acceptable reasons to bother me are: 1. Sexual related. 2. Time-sensitive torture related matters, and 3. Lucifer needs me.”

When K’zaylenn turned around she noticed he was in quite the state, his partially hardened cock swaying between his muscular thighs. Desponia licked her lips appreciatively.

“I see you’re in quite the state,” she observed, noting his erection. “Sexual related then… You thinking about the fresh prey we’ll get to play with? I can’t blame you, especially when it’s plain you’ve got the better part of the deal… but no matter, we’ll all have fun playing together I’m sure…” Desponia said, laughing. Her laughter was overshadowed by darkness.

“So, how can I help?” Out of habit she rested her palm against the head of his cock. She gently rubbed her hand over him, letting out a soft, contented moan as the precum coated her palm.

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

Shaggy was conflicted.

On one hand, he loved sex. Sex with Velma was always spectacular and he would have really enjoyed fucking her. But as much as he liked sex, Shaggy’s first love is, was and always had been food! And they were just about to be fed. Fucking Velma might mean missing out on a surf and turf feast—which wasn’t something Shaggy wanted to risk.

Furthermore, if Shaggy were more gifted with introspection, he’d have realized that he was still feeling slightly guilty for cheating on Velma less than an hour ago. His body, on the other hand, was acutely aware that he’d ejaculated twice today. Even though Velma’s heavy-handed caresses were turning him on, the more blood that flowed into his oversized member, the more acutely he was aware of having low blood sugar.

“Like, babe. I really like your enthusiasm—an’ stuff. But, like, fo-od is coming. I’m not totally sure that, like, I can until it does. Ya know, man?” Shaggy did a poor job of making excuses, but he could smell steak and seafood smells wafting in from the kitchen. His mouth was watering.

Just then, Oswald and Ophelia entered the dining room, arm-in-arm, still glowing with their post-coital satisfaction. Oliver’s eyes narrowed, looking past Daphne, despite her rather obvious advances.

It was true that Oliver hadn’t anticipated the small dose of Incubus’ semen to have such an effect on the women, but how brazenly they were humiliating themselves was a secondary concern to his children, who, despite his adamant chastisements and ultimatums—continued to be engaged in an immoral, romantic relationship.

Though he hardly sat astride a high horse of morality, the thought of his children fucking one another disgusted him.

“I see that my petulant offspring have arrived,” Oliver hissed, leading Daphne toward her seat next to Fred by a rather aggressive grip on her exposed upper arms, “let’s take our seats. We can have another waltz after the meal, Miss Blake.”

“Something sure smells tasty,” Fred piped up, blissfully oblivious to all of the tense subtext floating around the room in all directions, “that sure is a nifty record player, Olly. Retro. How old is it?”

“My name is Oliver,” Oliver spat after reseating Daphne, he moved over to grab Ophelia by her upper arm in an even more forceful grasp, wrenching her away from Oswald, “we are all taking our seats now.”

On cue, the chef began bringing out platters of sumptuous looking food. The mob had been gracious enough to provide one of their Michelin Star chefs for the Chateau. A fringe benefit of their grander arrangement.

The lobsters was expertly removed from its shell then rearranged to resemble their former shape. The steaks cooked perfect medium rare with cross hatched grill-lines, radiating steam and weeping pink moisture. The roasted new potatoes smelled of garlic and fresh rosemary sprigs. Shaggy started serving himself heaping mounds of food from each platter that hit the table. A whole lobster, a soup bowl of drawn butter, three steaks and a separate plate for potatoes.

Shaggy ate loudly. In huge gulps. Gasping for breath between loud chews.

“My son will lead Grace,” Oliver asserted himself, his eyes narrowing at Shaggy who stopped abruptly, his cheeks outstretched around half chewed food. His swallow was loud and revolting, “Oswald.”

It was a bitter irony, all things considered, that Oliver wanted to say Grace over their meal—but it was their custom, even if it wasn’t God that they prayed to.

“Our Dark Father,” Ozzy began, “please bring about the satisfaction of our desires—” these words seemed to make all three women squirm in their seats, but Ozzy was only looking at Olivia, “the overwhelming success of our widest wishes… and the savage downfall of our enemies. Nema.”

At the last bit, the “savage downfall” part, Ozzy stared directly at his father, who as always had placed himself between Ozzy and Ophelia.

“What a unique prayer!” Fred smiled, utterly devoid of guile.

“’E ‘an eath?” Shaggy asked with his mouth overflowing full.

Oliver nodded regretfully, allowing Shaggy to resume his loud, gluttonous consumption. Oliver’s eyes moved back to Ozzy who sat down, returning the glare and seeming rather pleased with himself.

*-*-*

“Shh, shh, shh, shut your mouth—” K’zaylenn shushed his sister rather impatiently, slapping her hand away from his statuesque cock rather dismissively, “listen… can you feel it? They’re worshiping us…”

K’zaylenn’s eyes rolled back as if he were climaxing, his eyelids fluttering—he could smell cattle flesh on the air. His lips began to move faintly, a soft whisper, barley a sound…

“…savage downfall of our enemies…” Oswald’s voice came through the Demon Lord’s mouth as the blood runes he’d painted around the room began to glow. The chicken blood was being absorbed into the rock as the runes glowed brighter.

“I’m sorry for being curt, blood-of-my-blood. There’s no time for playing anymore. The sacrifices have consumed of my essence. My bond to the mortal realm is growing stronger. We must prepare ourselves for passage through limbo.”

K’Zaylenn rushed over to the bureau where he extracted a pair of oversized, threadbare, khaki robes. He tossed one to Desponia while whirling the other around his shoulders. This would be the most perilous part of the journey.

“I hope you have everything you need. Tonight we escape hell.”

*-*-*

Oliver realized that the servants had come to refill the wine goblets too late. He might have stopped them if he’d noticed in time, but he didn’t. The majority of the incubus’ seed had already been consumed—he hoped, so further consumption wouldn’t do much more damage to the girls’ arousal. He assumed so, at least.

Instead, he allowed all the glasses to be filled as the others (excluding Shaggy) began dining politely, with napkins in laps and utensils.