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Satan's Sluts

by Falcinator 01/25/11

"See if you can keep that in you," she whispered into my ear before walking away again. "If you let it out, I'll whip your tits bloody with a cane."

Oh, fucking hell! Being full front and back made me just about faint as he grunted himself closer to cumming, and I clenched the slippery, tapering handle of the flogger desperately hard, absolutely certain the manager wasn't joking.

I could feel it slipping by the time he grunted, came deep up my arse and staggered back, leaving me hanging, gasping, and with just enough of a burst of strength to hold onto the flogger long enough for the manager to yank it out of me, say "Well done, little harlot," kiss me and then say "Open wide, you're going to lick it clean!"

I stretched my jaw and tilted my head back, and she worked it in slowly to give me time to take it all down, tasting my tartness on it. She drew it out, reversed the handle in her hand and expertly flicked it across my breasts, catching a stinging lash across both nipples at once.

There were gasps, groans and shrieks from behind my back, and I swung around to see the group on the floor disentangle themselves, cum-smeared already.

"Refresher, anyone?" The manager asked, solicitously.

I swung back to see her pointing to fourteen neat lines of white powder on a glass tabletop. The singer grabbed a rolled-up note from her and took one line up each nostril, the coke making his eyes light up all over again. Oh, fuck yeah, this was going to be a long and hard night, in the good way.

Punk took the next two lines, then the drummer, then goth, then the bassist, then the guitarist and finally rock chick.

I was feeling a bit left out.

"Don't worry," the manager whispered in my ear as she reached around to slide a finger through each nipple ring and pull outwards until I yelped. "We'll let you down eventually."

Rock chick staggered up to me, completely naked now, and leaned into me for a tonsil-clearing kiss, grabbing at my crotch and pushing two fingers inside me.

I ground against her, my toes curling off the ground, and then felt one of the other girls grab my hips from behind. They licked each other's tonsils over my shoulder, then the guitarist stepped up behind rock chick, grabbed her hips and shoved into her arse. She squealed, next to my ear but muffled, and at the same time I heard the other girl - goth, I think - squeal as well.

Suddenly I was the meat in a sandwich, as both girls were slammed into me, the boys getting in perfect sync. I rolled my head and could just see the drummer grab punks' collar and hurl her to the ground, kneeling behind her and lining up as the bassist knelt in front of her.

They spit-roast her as rock chick desperately frigged me with her fingers and goth, reaching around, mauled my breasts.

The three of us girls came together but the boys kept pounding, and the gasps in my ear got more and more ragged, rock chicks' eyes getting that wild, desperate look of someone who's been pushed too far, but is powerless to do anything and doesn't want to anyway.

I was feeling exactly the same way when we all five came together.

They staggered away, and I hung exhausted, feeling the strain in my shoulders.

The manager stepped up to me, leaned in, squashing my breasts with her considerably bigger ones, and licked out the inside of my mouth as she slowly undid the manacles.

I crumpled to the ground, but she grabbed my hair and pulled me upright again, pushing me towards where the guitarist was sprawled on the couch. "If you want to lie down, lie down on him, cum-slut," she suggested.

I stumbled, knees shaking and every part of my body crying out for release, but somehow I just wanted to keep going and I crawled on top of him as he held his cock upright. Fucking hell, was it the coke or had they been main-lining Viagra earlier in the night?

I settled over him with a gasp, finding enough strength to squeeze him and begin humping.

The manager leaned in and poured a trail of small white crystals onto his chest. "Lick that up, whore," she suggested.

I didn't even need telling. The taste of the meth mingled with the slightly stale, salty, man-taste of him and seemed to supercharge me, so I began bouncing on him so hard there were slapping noises echoing around the room.

It seemed to take an age for us to both cum, and when we finally did I looked up to see rock chick and goth, kneeling and back to back, getting blasted in their mouths by the singer and the bassist. They turned around and kissed, cum dribbling down their chins.

I suddenly, desperately wanted some of that. I hadn't had a real cock in my mouth all night, yet.

I stumbled over, lay beneath them and they bent down, opening their mouths and letting mingled cum dribble into mine. It tasted fucking marvellous.

There were popping and hissing noises around us, and a bottle of beer got pushed into my hand.

I sculled it, rinsing out my mouth, and there were cheers from the boys as the three of us finished our bottles together. Another one got pressed into my hand by the bassist, who stood and fondled my tits while I drained that one as well.

I don't remember the rest of the evening.


I woke up with a fucker of a headache, lying sprawled face-down on the couch with a head on my arse.

I pushed it off, hearing them slump to the floor, and reeled towards the dressing room's en-suite bathroom, the room more drunken than I had been.

I threw up violently, dimly realising halfway through that someone was holding my hair back.

It turned out to be the manager, who looked like she had just woken up, got dressed and had an army of fucking stylists working on her for two hours.

Her dress was redder than I remembered - like fire-engine red - and she had latex boots over her knees and stockings the rest of the way. I tried to remember if she had been wearing them last night, and couldn't.

She handed me a bottle of water, and I sculled that. It helped a little bit.

Then I looked about the room, and nearly threw up again.

Goth was lying in the middle of the floor with purple face, protruding tongue and the bassist's belt around her throat. The bassist was lying next to her in a pool of his own vomit, obviously not breathing any more.

The singer and rock-chick looked like they had fallen unconscious while 69ing and suffocated each other, and punk was stretched out next to the coke table, with white-rimmed nostrils and a staring look in her wide-open eyes.

The head on my arse had been the drummer, who just looked like his heart had stopped, and the guitarist had bled out from a massive head wound, which had probably been the table he was lying next to.

"Fuck," I groaned, "are they all fucking dead?"

"Fuck yes," the manager said, calmly. "All except you." She seemed satisfied about that, which first seemed really weird and then seemed really frightening.

"What's going to happen?" I gasped. I suddenly realised I was still naked.

"Well," she said brightly, "you have two options. You can stay here and get seriously arrested, or you can come with me and owe me one."

I didn't really think I had a choice, at that point. "Where?" I asked dully.

She opened a door I fucking swear hadn't been there, and said "This way, don't worry about clothes, you won't be needing any."

I went. There didn't seem much point in doing anything else.

I nearly jumped out of my fucking skin when I found the band and the other three girls, all naked, and all milling around in confusion like they were still fucking alive.

I turned around, but the door wasn't there.

There was a red glow and a bit of a flicker to the light, and a faintly sulphurous smell in the air. I thought the flicker might be just my head, but then I suddenly realised I was stone-cold sober.

The singer saw the manager. "What the fuck's going on?" he demanded.

Suddenly, a voice that made me want to gorge myself on cheesecake while getting fucked in the middle of a night club said "I should have thought that was obvious, to a clever boy like you."

The way he said "clever" made me want to punch someone while riding his cock, but it also sounded kind of sarcastic.

We all turned. Of course we did. He looked like a male model who could charge more to appear in a porno than women could, and he was lounging carelessly on what looked like a fucking throne. I seriously wanted his fucking throne. While he was licking me out.

The singer looked like he wanted to throttle him, but I don't know if there would be sex involved as well.

"Hey!" the singer shouted. "You told us we'd be fucking rock stars until the day we fucking died! That was one fucking night, you piece of shit!"

The gorgeous man in the throne laughed, unpleasantly, but it still made me want to fuck every man here, and fuck it, they'd want to, wouldn't they, it's not like the other three were as good a lay as me.

"And you all enjoyed yourself so much in that little party last night your lives ended. Now you're mine, ipso facto. Pay up."

I could see a dawning realisation on the band members' faces, and I felt a chilly feeling that no, I wasn't hallucinating or dreaming and yes, I knew what was going on as well. But damn, the devil was hot.

"Hey," the singer protested. "You have to give us a chance, right? We challenge you, like, to a battle of the bands!"

The devil roared with laughter. I wanted to grind my pussy in his face.

"I'm Satan! I don't have to do anything! You signed the contracts, you accepted the conditions, you took your reward and then you were so fucking stupid you died after one fucking night! I don't owe you fucks the time of day!"

"What about us, then?" goth burst out, looking like she wanted to lay about her with sharp knives. "We weren't part of the deal!"

The devil looked at her incredulously. "You? You all three of you fornicated, with women as well as men, took hard drugs, and died. What makes you think you have any choice, hope or recourse to appeal? You're all mine now!"

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