Lilith, the first wife of Adam, who was banished from Eden for seeking dominance over her mate and forced to find demons to copulate, was taking another victim. He was, as she liked them, a boy encroaching on what he believed to be manhood. Now a demon herself, from millennia of custom and rutting with them, she savored human love and human seed once more.
Marky’s 18th birthday party was the next day. He was due to receive a Camaro, and later that night, unbeknownst to everyone but his father, a whore in the back seat of it. Everyone knew in some sense or another that he would become a man.
“I really can’t, I really don’t know,” he stammered, fighting to keep his pajama top down as the demoness poked around on him. She was, as always, brilliantly, spectacularly naked, and bore an unsettling resemblance to Cindy Crawford, though her hair was purest black, and what the model of human perfection commanded in height Lilith conveyed with presence and demonic features, such as eyes of green fire and the ability to fly, among others.
“What’s really stopping you?” she hissed, crawling over him as he sat on his bed in a pool of sweat and other juices, her eyes leveled at his. Her forked tongue curled around her mouth. He saw this, but it only stiffened his wanting. “You do want me, don’t you?”
“Oh. I. Oh,” he said. “Take me.” And he was hers. She smiled.
Since time that was not time, it was the act of submission that had excited her, had transformed the act into one of malice and perverted it from a display of love. That was her true victory over him, over all the that men she had ruined. Not merely riding their hips and imposing her will over them, but reducing them to the sort of weaklings who would take it. With her rules, and her restrictions programming their desires from a high and distant place, they would live in cowardice and darkness, in ignorance and uncertainty all the days of their lives. The stain of their submission would color every assertion they would ever make, weakening it more than natural doubt could, and they would be apostates of Hell, forever. Spirituality served, she proceeded with the carnal aspect of the event.
Her tan and slender body slithered up to his sitting form on her knees. Her fingers, long and spindly, the ends black points, fell on his shoulders, and guided his back to the bed. She was overtaking him. As his torso slowly dropped, the pajama top he was wearing, a white blue-striped deal, ripped and flew violently off of him, torn viciously away by unseen psychic forces of his new vampiric captor. His shoulders met the bed, and her hips inched into their place over his, right and left, right and left, until mounted. His erection, the hardest he’d ever had, not love but hungry flesh that she could mentally control, was jammed uncomfortably against the fabric of his pajama pants, and held taut by her equine hips, but his efforts to unhook it were hindered as another mental command from his demonic mistress pinned his arms telekinetically to the bed.
“Ow!” he whimpered, and her cruelly skeletal fingers seemed held up in mock shock for a minute, but then she smiled.
“It’s what you want? It is what you want, isn’t it?”
He felt a strange tension creeping across his buttocks, spiraling his anus into a tight lock, but he assumed this was just terror gripping him. He was right, but not completely. To further pervert and compel him to Hell, she would not only have to perform the act of love, heaven’s greatest gift, incorrectly, but turn it fully to dominance.
His breathing grew shallow, and rapid.
Moving his awareness back and down through the progression of his personality’s development, she made the act less about the genital, and all about the anal. The ultimate stage of regression, according to Freud, was oral, and he was right, but that would come momentarily; Marky had to be prepped, first.
As his elastic pajama pants were gripped and curled down under his conqueror by invisible demon fingers that were also in her thrall, she tossed his organ up and into her as though spiking a volleyball with the cupping lips of her sex, with an ease so practiced it came as easily as breathing. No cunt had ever known penetration, nor violation such as hers had, but she tightened it according to the length the act would take in time, and began cycling on him like the hammer of a desert oil pump.
“Ahh!” he cried, at the greatest ecstacy he had ever known, and ever would know, and her right forefinger crept, extended, past her smooth, jasmine scented abdominal region, beyond the long supple thighs that massaged him into the shape desired with iron authority, and behind her rounded, crunching ass, which over time had been groomed by her desires to perfectly accommodate the hands of whatever might have been taking her.
His knees wiggled and jerked behind her like the jumps on a lie detector’s graph, as deceitful cherubs smiled to him in his mind. As his physical ecstacy grew, his nausea began to increase, Goodness’s last fight within him appearing in his mind as a need to vomit, to expel, to repel whatever toxin had entered him.
As her hips rose, his cock was freed, drifted in time and space, felt nothing. As she sank again, pinning him and pulling him back to the bed, his face contorted with pain and he cried out, every time, and he was again her prisoner. But when her hips rose again, his cock, his manhood, felt higher up, more swallowed in black space, and more distant. He was enjoying the liberation from his duties, from responsibilities that had oppressed him as fears before he’d been old enough to know them. She smiled again, exposing lengthening fangs, because he would never realize in his mousy life to be now that these traps of adulthood were really heaven-sent joys. Another soul was ruined, corrupted; her maker and warden was once again disgraced by the weakness of His creation.
Her hips wiggled down onto him in a parody of his own, and the clarity of her contempt and of his humiliation made her for a single instant a perfect portrait of every dominant female, Satan ascendent, control of strength being turned over by weakness to mental bonds.
Her finger penetrated him, and he came.
Seconds became hours in that state, and as he stared, blank and paralyzed, she had dismounted and was smiling into his face, and then her head sank down to his penis. Her fangs creaked against her gums as they reached their maximum extended length.
His cum was still inside him; his orgasm had been mental. She sank her teeth into his shaft, and clamped her lips tight around his knob, and drank the spurts that escaped him, whatever they were, and all the while her finger pumped into him her own black poison.
A tear slowly rolled down his temple to the bed. She drank, until he could safely offer her no more.
Again, she hovered over him, this time their bodies completely separate. He was on his back, and that was pleasure enough even for her, the personification of sinful lust.
“You have offered yourself to me, and I have taken.
“The body is the mind, the mind is the body. Remove this scar, if you can.”
With that, she kissed him, mingled his juices, blood, seed, and spit, within the kiln of her mouth and spat them back into him, a perverse parody of sex, and stole the spirit out of him.
His soul was his; it couldn’t be otherwise after all. As she had told him, it was his body. But the spirit, the breath, the Strength, was hers now, and soon his power to keep his bodily form, his identity, his life, would wither and he would melt under the crushing weight of despair and disease. She had stolen him.
With a ballerina’s turn and leap, she flew out of his window, and into the night.
Like so many men who had fallen, his mind would never be at peace again.
His only wonder as he lay there, trying to believe it was a dream, was if he would ever see her again.
---
Ten years later, in the same room, lived a young and beautiful girl with flaming red hair and electric green eyes, named Margaret. She lived the life many young girls lead: she dreamed, she wrote, she observed her body in the long mirror in her room and wondered if it was good enough. She shared secrets with her friends...
Her parents had been told that the house was haunted, but being scientifically minded and rational people, they believed no such balderdash, and why would they? Would they have allowed their pride and joy, the luxuriously sensuous, innocent, saucer-eyed daughter they had given everything for to live in a house plagued with monsters? Would they introduce superstition into a mind they were trying to shape into a perfect balance of thought and emotion? Certainly not. It was unfortunate that a boy who had lived there had suffered a mental and physical breakdown, but that wasn’t going to harm their baby dear.
On a typical night in the house, Margaret entertained her parents over dinner with stories of her soccer scores, none of them suspecting the sexual frenzy she drove even the straight girls on the team into with her flawless athleticism, wrote a bit in her diary with a heart-shaped lock on the cover in her tank top and panties, prayed, and went to bed.
---
Having been trapped in an amateur magician’s circle on the basement floor of his parents’ suburban home for nine years, Lilith had no idea who was living in Margaret’s house. A freak accident had broken the chalk circle and freed Adam’s first wife, and she was craving for sustenance. This meant sexually draining a male.
Geographically, the nearest target was Marky’s old house, but of course, the demon didn’t know she had more or less totally destroyed him.
The latch on the window lock slid telekinetically off of its hold, the window rose, and the demoness flew in like a super-heroine, in her naked, majestic form and with a subdued special effects show that would have completely subdued any young male. Her fiery black hair settled down around her shoulders, and over the subtle angles of her back. Her ass cheeks bounced. Marky wasn’t there. The bed had been moved. On it, a shape stirred, but it wasn’t masculine. Understandably fearless, Lilith walked to it, and stopped, with a hand on her hip, and observed.
Framed in the moonlight of another window, Margaret was a goddess. Lilith had never needed to have seen her powerful but small legs run and pump and push the balls into their goals to recognize the alluring power of her youthful vitality and health as it was splayed out on this bed before her. Her hair spread out around her, a halo of mock rage and indignation, her white tank top cupping perfect, apple breasts of globular moonlight, her breasts rising and sinking, beating against space with every pulse of her heart, every heave of her breath rippling her body, her arms, her face, her thighs...
She was a human goddess, a clay form of what Lilith herself was meant to be. Like a real flower beside it’s eternal, plastic imitation, though, Margaret was beyond comparison with her.
The demon fell in love.
Lilith found in her a truer beauty than the corruption she had wrought. She wondered if this might not be the angel to guide her ascent back unto the heavenly throne. Lilith suddenly realized, like a new apprentice first encountering his destiny, that she found the male form ugly, even in its wonderful destruction, and that this was where she belonged, with this kind of softness, eyeing this kind of flesh, these textures on her hands and belly and tongue.
Dominating this creature, the sin goddess realized, would be infinitely more powerful, infinitely more sexual, and desperately more fun than anything or any type of thing that she had ever done, before. Here was a creature that was just crying out for it. A female creature, built to be dominated. But one that would be mastered by a woman. The ultimate woman, perhaps the only woman.
Her.
Could all women feel this way? What would become of men, if they did? Who would be allowed to mate, and what kind of world would tomorrow bring? Could females alone decide who would have them? Wasn’t that the law? Her mind spun with ideas. Margaret’s beauty had a profound, spiritual, political aspect she had never anticipated.
She flew, casting a joyous look back at her sleeping love, out again through the window, back into the night.
The next night, though unaware why, Margaret said her rosary and even kissed the beads before she could sleep.
Lilith drifted in through the window, in the typical, endless, eerie quiet of suburbia, embodying its surreal, nightly reflection, and bent over the sleeping nymph, her hands on the girl’s shins.
Margaret was curiously poised for love, on her back, with her white-knuckled hands gripping the sheets in outlines of her sweat. Though she was unconscious, her feet were flat on the mattress, and her knees were bent up above it. Her sex was in panties, but access was no problem. The panties began to soak through, and she shifted and groaned in her sleep.
“Unhh...
“Mmm...
“Ah...” the coed intoned in her dazed fit.
Lilith was only hovering over the girl; they hadn’t made sexual contact yet, but her overwhelming psychic presence was enough to weigh on the girl’s mind, as though it were her destiny calling.
Lilith enjoyed watching her writhe in the soft light.
This is what I got into domination for in the first place, the demon thought.
Though I would have you now, and bring your soul through ecstacy to palaces of living fire, I should do this right, she thought.
The monster reached up over her shoulder, and into her raven hair, and pulled out a stray clump of it. It wasn’t protein, because it wasn’t hair as we know it: it wasn’t even black. It was night, itself. But it was dropped on the bed by the starving girl’s hip, and it began tightening, and spasming, like Margaret’s insides, and by the time the goddess had once again reached the window it had the form of a spider. It struck blindly, slowly around, a couple times, to see where it could go.
Lilith looked back, this time with the sting of separation, at her young bride.
Until we meet again, my lovely.
Margaret reeled.
The spider was now crawling against the dunes of white, cotton sea to her crotch, which it would penetrate, despite thrashing or panties, and when it got there, it bit her.
Its jagged, clamping jaws locked down on her clitoris, and its supernatural legs extended to form a new hymen over her labia’s way, burrowing their tender, wiry ends into the nervous network of her body’s bottom half, effortlessly.
She came innumerable times.
She had been inducted to the flesh.
---
The next night, Lilith found the princess of her dreams lying ensconced in crucifixes and garlic, and an overweight and pimply classmate lay wrapped in a blanket, in a chair by the closet, with a baseball bat loosely clung in his hands. The goddess walked over to the bed easily, and knelt down over the girl, who again was ornamented with white tank top and white panties, and again was sleeping on her back. Lilith took her face in one clawed hand, and kissed it, and the merest disapproval was quickly replaced by a soft, loving, affirmation of the demon’s desire. Lilith smiled at this warm reception, and quickly sheared her of her panties.
The girl writhed in sleeping, telepathic distress, and the fat guardian stirred, but the demoness’s powers over both of them won out, and she was not to be denied. The girl quickly settled, and prepared to accept with her pussy, and Lilith arranged her posture to be comfortable during this phase of the girl’s conversion, for as long as it would take.
One of the demon’s fingers, the right index, extended to an unseemly length, and the succubus looked at the girl she was to feast on. The girl was still.
Lilith kept her gaze focused on the girl as the burnt-looking nub teased her labia, and she enjoyed the girl’s gasping and moaning as the finger finally entered her.
As Lilith played her like a music box through the night, engineering moans and turning muscles on a spit of her own desire, she allowed the finger to now and again extend to unnatural lengths, to educate and illuminate Margaret about what pleasure was possible in the world.
As the girl’s arms shook and her toes curled up against the bottoms of her feet, Lilith knew she’d accomplished this.
Next time, my dear, the goddess-demon thought; next time I will truly fulfill you.
Lilith made this promise as she stood poised by the window, to escape, as she had before. It was almost dawn, and the delight had continued for four hours. This time, however, as she took to the air and fled across the dawning sky of the suburban landscape, mindful eyes were tracking her.
And they were not the eyes of Margaret’s teenaged monster-hunting friend with the ball bat. This was different.
Seducing Margaret had been the most sensual thing Lilith had ever accomplished; not because of what Lilith had done, but because of what she had bade Margaret do to herself, in the daylight hours, when Lilith was away. As a dream may only take a few seconds of real time, but last centuries in the mind of the beholder, Margaret let Lilith pleasure her whenever the girl’s eyes blinked; gently, softly, indescribably subtly, with eyelashes, tongue lashes, fingertip scrapes, and sigh blasts. Across the whole expanse of her body. It was deafening, limitless, and inconceivable. Neither one of them had ever felt so real, had ever been so true. It was a spiritual union.
After crippling, many, and extensive dreams of her violent, anal violation by Lilith’s evil finger, Margaret was ready for the final phase of its plan.
Lilith came to her soon, one night, with a bundle swathed in black waddling cloth. The imagery had been chosen specifically for the event. Margaret lay perfectly still on the bed. She had unconsciously remained naked, in preparation for the ritual. Her nude body was glistening.
Her pale skin, charged with the moon’s glow, drew her as a goddess from a marble form, and the red of her hair merged with the lunar sheen throughout would have sparked unbearable longing in any who could have chanced to observe her. The triangle of her pubis was a three-sided, mystical gate that none understood but that any present could plainly see was inviting penetration, and her toes and fingers seemed ready to disappear, and recede, back into her soft limbs if doing so would only make her clinging to whomever took her more passionate, simple, and vital. She was magnificent, the most perfect female Lilith had ever seen, and she had for the most part seen all of them, and wanted not a one.
She wanted this one.
It burned her. Her copious, demon-feeding chest heaved, and she knew for the first time what it was to care for another. Her body; unnaturally tan, and firm, agile, and lithe, like an eternal dancer, was quivering with the imagined, anticipated sensations of joining this other one in pleasurable physical bonds such as she had entered with no one like her in her seemingly endless sexual history.
Lilith shook, and dropped the bag.
The black bundle came slightly undone, and exposed part of the harness of what appeared to be some medieval torture device. Margaret shifted prophetically in her sleep, but having been pleasured by Lilith for millennia in her mind already, craved the release of her demon lesbian lover’s harsh touch.
Lilith smiled, and stepped over the bag.
“Mmmmm,” Margaret intimated, and Lilith began to levitate over the black bundle. She floated only two inches above the floor, but it was enough to remind anyone who might have been watching of her alien, dreadful power.
Margaret writhed, twitched, and quivered in her bed, expecting the inevitable.
Beneath Lilith’s crotch, the black bundle began unwrapping itself like a spider stretching its legs, removing this fold and that from the treasure it contained within itself, and before long a fully exposed strap-on dildo harness lay in a pool of black velvet under the floating presence of the lesbian god. Margaret, though asleep, displayed a great awareness of what was happening, and even seemed to exhibit a dread at the predictable supernatural sight that was about to unfold. Lilith, a model gone wrong, with superhuman features, and supernatural hate, stood floating in the air above the floor as the straps and buckles of the fake dick’s harness found each other and bonded, interlocking, interlacing, tightening on her wide hips as her hunger grew, and she licked her lips at the sight of the sleeping victim before her. In only a moment she had her own dick, and she was ready to insert it into the hole of the sleeping Persephone.
As though on invisible wheels, the demon floated over to the sleeping girl, who now seemed strangely peaceful, and accepting, as though this was what she wanted, simply stood, standing on air, and surveyed the beckoning landscape of pale flesh and terror before her. Her dick spasmed, a little, imbued with supernatural life. Margaret’s anus twitched.
Lilith placed her hands on her hips, and inhaled strongly, and couldn’t believe the effectiveness of this whole scene. Margaret was to be hers. The naked, starving goddess, there before her was to be her sex toy, and only hers. It was almost too sweet. She reeled.
The spirited, but helpless body of the young redheaded victim floated up and casually before her possessor supernaturally, with its belly down and its arms and legs grazing the mattress beside its burning red hair, and Lilith sank her hands into the flesh above Margaret’s hips more than firmly, and gave the skin there a firm tug back, thus impaling her on its dick.
Lilith loved this, not being human herself: she impaled the young goddess on her fake dick as many times as she could in a minute, every minute, for about half an hour, until she was sated, and the redhead gibbered for release.
Lilith fucked the girl doggy-style.
Lilith fucked her with the girl on her back.
She fucked the girl with the girl on her back, and one of her legs on Lilith’s shoulder.
She fucked the girl with her forearms in Lilith’s hands, as Lilith pumped her from behind, mercilessly, knocking the hope out of her.
Lilith started fucking her from behind, and then cupped the girl’s magnificent breasts in her demon hands. She pulled the girl back, so that the girl was sitting on Lilith’s crotch as Lilith’s cock was up and into her, her back to Lilith’s belly. Then the demon lifted her own butt from her ankles, and with the girl on her crotch, raised her up, again and again to the heavens, playing with her breasts the whole time from behind, as if to try to make the gods jealous of what she had discovered.
Margaret came until she was unconscious, again.
The demoness worked her until there was nothing left.
As the victim was slowly dropping, from mid-air, back to her mattress, after a particularly vicious round of fuckings, a voice shot forth from the back of the bedroom.
“You going to throw her away, now Lilith? The way you did with me?”
Lilith turned, her cock still on her, her love now knocked out on her own bed, and saw the bloated and diseased form of her former lover Marky eying her solidly from a cane-mounted vantage point.
“Ah, Marky, I was wondering what happened to you.” She let attention drift to her dick, to see if he’d be interested, but his hateful eyes were fixed on hers. “Nice to see you back in your old homestead.”
Disgustingly, he staggered forth toward her.
“I don’t know what you did to me, bitch, but I’m here to finish it.”
“Shut up,” Lilith said, and he was silenced, and knocked back, flat on his ass, against the wall.
Suddenly, the demon was meditative. She paced, slowly about, with the cock fishing up and down between her thighs, and her hand curled carefully at her chin.
She stopped, apparently in a trance, and with the hand not on her chin, traced the length up and down, of her cock.
“I’ve got all this power,” she stated quizzically.
She turned to her male victim.
“I know what you want,” she told him plainly.
He stiffened to attention, as best as he could, awaiting her next words.
Before he, or anyone else knew anything, she had cast her demon magic upon him, and transformed him not into a younger image of himself, but into a healthy, strong, and powerful young version of the everyman.
“What am I supposed to do, like this?” he asked his maker, as the smoke cleared, and he stood before her naked.
“What do you think?” asked Lilith. “I have here a female I control, utterly, that you can no better than make glance at you, and you all of a sudden have this potential. What do you think you should do? I’ll make it simple for you,” Lilith said, walking behind him.
She telepathically communicated the entire story into his mind. The she pressed her dick at his ass, from behind him.
“You could be next,” she said, “unless you prove you’re worth something.”
In his newly enlivened state, Marky was taller, more muscular, and more handsome than he ever had been before, and he wasted no time in illustrating that fact. He seized the position before Margaret who had rolled onto her back, her beautiful legs folded and opened, beckoning before his lust, and he penetrated her. She groaned, but with dissatisfaction.
“Come on, come on!” he cried, trying to stir humanity within her. “I can see you’re Catholic,” he said, having observed the schoolgirl uniform slung over her desk chair, “do your duty to your God.”
She vomited. It reminded him of ‘The Exorcist’.
‘Lilith...” she begged in her delirium.
“Out of the way, fuck-boy,” she snickered hatefully, as the demoness and her bobbing fake cock again took center stage at the redhead’s entrance. Only sensing her there, Margaret began to relax and purr slightly.
Lilith began fucking and Margaret was once again in her thrall. The dildo bounced in and out of her like a striking snake, and Margaret ground forth her hips as best she could to give it her flesh to feast on. Now Marky was feeling sick.
“You cunt!” he cried, weakly.
“Come on, Marky,” Lilith sneered, her green eyes flashing, as she positioned one of Margaret’s ankles onto her shoulder. The foot bounced wildly as Lilith struck in and out of the new claim. “I’ve given you everything a man could need to dispel my influence. If you can’t enchant her, I’d think it was due to your own iniquity.”
The words cut him, though their phrasing was strange to his ears, archaic, almost alien. Nonetheless, they inspired him to take control, and he got around behind the witch.
“You asked for it, honey,” he said bravely with his borrowed body, and inserted his new, Olympian cock into Lilith’s ancient quim. He started fucking; violently, almost rudely, as she in turn fucked the teenager.
Lilith started laughing. She hadn’t doubled over the redhead, as he’d thought she would.
“Oh come on,” she finally said when she’d composed herself. “I’ve been fucked by demons, by the Prince of Darkness Himself. Do you really think you can do me?”
His spirit was destroyed, but he kept on pumping her cold, divine cunt, almost like a male praying mantis that’s had its head bitten off by a female, but whose body continues copulating anyway. He thought for a second, though he’d never believed himself endowed with any kind of psychic ability, that he’d been given a glimpse of humanity’s future in that metaphor; a cold, insectoid fate, not unlike his own.
What happened next was the cruelest stroke.
Lilith and Margaret were talking. He could see them, but he couldn’t hear them speak at all. Theme music, porn music that he couldn’t hear, it seemed, was blocking out the sounds and meanings that they shared, and he was isolated as he fucked the demon. He was totally alone. He maintained an heroic effort anyway, not knowing how else to continue to be a part of this scene, as they talked in some reality far above him, Lilith slamming and Margaret smiling and absorbing the attention with her eyes closed, on her back. When his penis was limp, and he still hadn’t come, and Lilith stepped away from the sated redhead and away from his failing member, he could hear them speak again.
“When God’s had it with weaklings like you, Marky, and when his art has been all been burned in the fires of the flesh, He will not again create a human universe. He will create nothing. Nothing will prevail. I am a creature of Nothing, of Darkness. I will prevail.”
She turned to Margaret, and Marky saw her, frozen in that moment, and he marveled.
Her perfect body. Her raven hair. Her burning, demon eyes. The mists of her lust pouring off of her. And the Law of her cock, the black, devouring invention that eliminated liberty or the will to resist, emanating from her crotch. It sickened him, and again, he wanted to be a slave to her.
“Margaret, I give the choice to you. I compel you with no powers, unearthly. The destiny of this world is in your tender hands, waits upon your tender lips,” Lilith said, and flashed a quick aside smile to Marky. “Who will rule, Margaret? Man, or Woman? God, or Satan? Who rules?”
“Fuck me, Lilith.”
Lilith stepped up to her, put her latex meat back in, and again commenced rocking the young girl. She had to exert no supernatural force to keep Marky in his place. He was utterly broken.
Margaret clasped her hands over the demon bitch’s buttocks and pulled her into her sex, and made sure as she did so to breath in. As the demoness withdrew in preparation for her next, sensual thrust, Margaret made sure to exhale. When Lilith again penetrated her with the strap-on, Margaret’s mouth shot open, and she remembered to suck air back into her lungs. It was an intuitive sympathy between them: as Lilith telepathically commanded, Margaret conditioned herself to need the cock as she needed oxygen, inhalation equaling full insertion and exhalation equaling the cock’s withdrawal. It would create in the whore/slave a suffocating desperation when the cock was not swinging its pendulum authority within her. It was a form of classical conditioning, as the psychologists call it, and it quickly took root and showed effects. Without even remembering the procedure anymore, Margaret only inhaled with every brutally relentless thrust of the cock inside her, and exhaled as Lilith took her hips and their tool away again.
“AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” Margaret screamed, being brought to a new level of awareness.
“You are the Whore of Babylon, Margaret, and through you I shall instill a fearful order in the world that has not been seen since ancient Sumeria, and heaven will once again know the terror of submission to the female divinity.”
Lilith thrust hard, to punctuate her point.
Margaret screamed.
“And this time... it will last.”
As Marky dissolved into a ghost that was both there and not there, and then finally not there at all, he was assaulted by visions of a snake in a garden fattening itself into a dragon, of a demon woman becoming an Antichrist, and of the end of a cycle that might never begin again at all.
Lilith punched in hard, and Margaret was the first girl in an aeon to know pleasures beyond what this world could give.