Lucifer's Children

by Brett Williams

  “You fuck him yet?”

  Amanda nearly choked on her food and blushed furiously. “No.”

  Kat shrugged. “He’s all right, I suppose. Not half-bad, actually. But you know that already, don’t you?”

  “No. How would I know any such thing?”

  “Well, you were at the Henderson party. Right?”

  “Wow. I can’t believe you remembered me. Or recognized me from being there. Whatever.”

  “I’m observant. I’ve got to be to run this campus.”

  Although Amanda had only just met Kat, she did in fact appear to carry a lot of weight with the other girls. She was obviously more observant than Amanda.

  “Oh my gosh.” A horrible thought popped into Amanda’s head. “We could be expelled for fighting.”

  “As if.”

  “Are you serious? There was a knife. Stacy got cut. The knife is in your pocket. Maybe you should toss it, although I’m sure other people saw what happened.”

  “Fuck them. Nobody will get expelled—nothing will happen, except, maybe, maybe, a stern talking to from the Vice Principle.” Kat shrugged, then popped the last bite of sandwich into her mouth.

  Amanda decided that worrying wouldn’t help and besides, she had done nothing wrong. “You don’t suppose Stacy will try to get even with me later, do you?”

  “Stacy is a stupid cunt, but no, she’s not dumb enough to jump you now that I’ve told her ‘hands off.’”

  Amanda smiled. “Thanks again. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t stepped in.”

  “You might have surprised yourself.”

  Doubtful, Amanda thought.

  “Well, it’s been real,” Kat said. “See you around.”

  “Sure. Maybe we can hang.”

  Maybe we can hang? Amanda couldn’t believe she had just said that. To Kat, of all people.

  “Yeah, sure, maybe. Catch ya later, Mandy.”

  VICE PRINCIPLE’S OFFICE

  “I don’t understand why we don’t have an activities building,” the Vice Principle said to an administrator on special business from Denver. “Minneapolis-St. Paul has an activities building. Dallas has had one for years. And don’t get me started on New York or L.A. There is plenty of room here on campus.”

  The visiting administrator took a moment from stroking his gray-flecked goatee to wave off the request.

  “You know as well as anyone that Overland Park already offers sufficient accommodations. There’s the newly remodeled gym, not to mention—”

  “I’ve heard the excuses before. We’re doing great things here at Monarch Prep-OP. But we are reaching capacity. If we are to continue to grow …”

  “Site growth is not a concern. Expansion …” —the administrator spread his arms in a grand gesture— “… and maintaining a low profile, that is what leadership wants.”

  “What leadership wants, leadership gets.”

  The administrator resumed stroking his chin as a grin spread across his fleshy face. He said jokingly: “Overland Park has selfish demands.”

  “Well, who doesn’t? After all, a sense of self is above all the grandest of gifts.”

  “If you say so.”

  “However, we must all sacrifice. Correct?” the VP joked.

  The administrator chuckled. “Yes. Sacrifice.”

  “Overland Park sacrifices more than any location, even New York. Be sure to relay that to leadership.”

  “I will.”

  “And we will grow, and we will continue to sacrifice, and some day, if need be, we will house these girls any way we see fit, to maintain our growth. Our contribution.”

  The administrator raised a palm to halt the conversation. “Local leadership reflects your sentiment, as I well know. Say, Frank, how long have we known each other?”

  “Nearly a decade. We met while I was still teaching history.”

  “Teaching history. Ah, a master of propaganda. I remember now. Has it been that long? Yes, I suppose it has.”

  “Yes, although we only meet face-to-face two or three times a year. But I don’t plan to remain Vice Principle forever. Nor Principle, for that matter.”

  The administrator issued a belly-laugh. “All in good time. We are scouting sites in the South, so opportunities will be opening up. Patience, my good man. Patience.”

  “Fuck you,” the VP ribbed. “I’m a hungry man.”

  “We love a man with an appetite.”

  The VP leaned back in his chair, pleased. He said, “Care for another drink before heading to the airport?”

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  A buzz from the Vice Principal’s desk phone interrupted their conversation. The VP pressed the intercom button.

  “Yes, Sharon?”

  “Kat is here to see you.”

  “Send her in.” To the administrator: “Wait ‘til you get a load of this one.”

  The administrator perked up and the office door swung open. A redheaded teen strolled in snapping gum. A little girl trailed behind her. Kat’s eyes bounced from the VP to the administrator and back again. She shut the door behind them, and said, “Who’s the old bald dude?”

  “She’s a little crass,” the VP explained. “Perhaps we should work on that. Kat, this is Mr. Alterman. He’s visiting from Denver Monarch Prep.”

  “Hello, Kat.”

  “So,” Kat said, ignoring the introduction, “I suppose you heard I cut a bitch.”

  “Yes, indeed. You do realize you aren’t supposed to go around cutting bitches, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, well, whatever. This bitch really needed cutting. She was fucking with the wrong chick, if you know what I mean.” Kat glanced at the visitor. The little girl, holding a doll in one hand, latched on to Kat’s skirt hem.

  “You are referring to Amanda Henning, aren’t you?”

  Kat shot the VP a duh, of course look and popped her gum. She said, “I’m not some stupid twat.”

  “Of course not.”

  “You’re not gonna take my knife away, are you? Not that I brought it with me.”

  “No, you can keep it. Just … chill.”

  “She’s got a lot of spunk, doesn’t she?” The administrator appeared quite amused with the situation.

  “An entire belly full, I’d suspect.”

  “Really?” The man stroked his goatee while admiring the scantily-clad student.

  “Sure. If you’re in the mood, I’m sure Kat could accommodate you before your flight.”

  “No. That isn’t necessary.”

  “Perhaps you prefer them younger.”

  Kat combed fingers through the little girl’s unruly hair, as if to make her more presentable.

  The administrator turned his attention to the VP. “Are they … ?”

  “Yes. Both of them.”

  The little one tugged Kat’s skirt. “How much longer, kitty?”

  “Shush.”

  “Do you have one?” the VP asked the administrator.

  “No. Not me. My wife would never allow it, which is fine, considering I’m so removed from the actual process.”

  “Surely you dabble.”

  “Never said I didn’t. I’d like to see a demonstration, if I may.”

  “Of course. Kat,” the VP gestured for her to come closer and the little girl followed. He whispered in Kat’s ear, causing her to drop to all fours. She crawled to the administrator and purred as she rubbed her bare midriff against his pant leg.

  “Yay! Kitty!” the little girl said, bouncing and clapping.

  “Can you change the little one?” the administrator said as he stroked the length of Kat’s back and patted her bottom.

  “I could, if I had the key.”

  “No need, I was just curious.”

  “Vicki,” the VP addressed the little girl, “call your sister.”

  “Here, kitty, kitty.”

  “Sister?” the administrator said. “They look nothing alike.”

  “They aren’t blood related. In fact,
I’m not quite sure how Kathryn’s adoption of Victoria came about, though she’s quite resourceful. It’s one of the reasons she isn’t like any of the others.”

  “I see. One with a barren womb.”

  Kat, moving as a cat, returned to the VP. He whispered into her ear again as Vicki patted her head like a pet. Then he addressed the visitor: “Are you sure I can’t tempt you with her flesh? Either-or? They make a great pair.”

  “Not that you would know, of course.”

  “Not from personal experience, no.”

  “You never know where these little sluts have been. However …” The administrator leered at the pair.

  “Yes?”

  “I know what baldy wants,” Kat said, now standing.

  “You do, do you?”

  “Of course. He wants a show, a little something to remember later.”

  The VP glanced at the administrator.

  The administrator said, “She’s very observant. And intelligent. Not to mention beautiful, in a slutty schoolgirl kind of way. I can see why she was chosen.”

  “In that case, I can step out if you’d prefer.”

  “No need. Just a little mental image for later, will be sufficient.”

  Vicki licked her lips as her arms wrapped around one of Kat’s thighs. “Here, kitty, kitty,” she said as she stooped to peek under Kat’s skirt.

  Kat unfastened the safety pin on her top to release ripe, schoolgirl breasts. She lifted her skirt, displaying a lack of panties, and laid back on a leather sofa beside a small mini-bar and spread open her legs.

  “I’ll pour us a couple of drinks,” the VP said.

  “Mm … kitty, kitty …”

  CEREMONY OF PREMATURE BIRTH

  “Lucifer commands his children to enter the world early, for Lucifer wishes His children malleable, incomplete, so that He, in His grand wisdom and with selfish purposes, may mold them into perfect followers, perfect worshipers. And so it is that we ask for His influence in bringing forth this incomplete infant. Grant us this, for You, oh Dark Prince …”

  “Please, give me drugs, take me to a hospital, do something. Anything. Someone help me.”

  “It always hurts most your first time. The louder you scream, the less the pain. Scream for Lucifer, child. Scream. Scream like you did for the seed that cursed you with child, you nasty slut. Scream, bitch, scream …”

  “Live, female, live, so that you may become a breeder yourself, with fractured psyche. For Lucifer …”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Amanda still hadn’t heard from Pammy, and Josh wanted to get in contact with her. He had tried without luck for days, Brad told her, and that Josh and Pammy had only spoken on the phone once since the party. A very brief conversation, and no text messages either, no email, nothing, although Josh really wanted to talk to Pammy.

  Of course he did, Amanda thought. Josh wanted more action with Pammy. She was cute, couldn’t get knocked up (again), and they had got along splendidly. Much like Brad and herself.

  He’ll drop you if he doesn’t get in your pants, Jill had reminded Amanda just the other day. Although Amanda couldn’t trust Jill to do anything as simple as stock the mini-fridge under the counter, she feared truth in her statement.

  Especially now, after he had treated her to a nice meal at a restaurant and a movie. Did Brad expect to be repaid in flesh after such a nice evening? The movie, a late showing, had left his car sitting in a dark, vacant corner of the theater lot. With Brad’s yummy lips. They tasted like buttered popcorn, Coca-Cola, and pure, unbridled passion.

  “Oh, Amanda.”

  “Brad.”

  A hand landed on her breast. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. “So hot. I can’t keep my hands off you.”

  The feeling was mutual. Her hand went to his crotch as his tongue pushed into her mouth and began its dance with her own.

  He wants to plunge into you, like Matt did Kat, Amanda thought. Her mind’s eye spied on that couple fornicating among a horde of onlookers. All those guys, strangers as far as Amanda knew (and believed), taking advantage of the opportunity she presented, the flesh she offered. They wanted filthy group sex with her while their buddies cheered them on. While Kat, someone Amanda now considered a friend, accommodated them vaginally, orally, and based on crowd vocalizations at the party, anally.

  A shudder coursed through Amanda’s chilled body. The air in the theater had been frigid, the night muggy, but now, with a sheen of perspiration coating her body, delectably cooled by a breeze slipping in through a window gap.

  Giving in to Brad was the last thing Amanda planned to do. Yet her hand searched out—and located—his growing erection.

  “Amanda.” Brad’s voice grew deep, breathy, and the way he squirmed made her believe he loved her touch. “Oh god, I want you.”

  She kissed him passionately while pressing her body against his firm, muscular body. Her fingers curled around the contour of his denim-clad erection.

  “I’m so sorry,” Amanda breathed into his mouth with their lips barely touching. “I can’t go any further.”

  “No?”

  She squeezed and rubbed. She wanted it buried inside her, but thoughts of Mr. Henning and Amy together was warping her enjoyment of any such act.

  Brad’s hand slid along her belly, started to slip under her blouse.

  “Please,” Amanda breathed in his ear. “Please let this be enough for tonight.”

  The flat of her palm traveled the length of his impressive, now steeled erection with increased pressure. “Not under my blouse,” she said. “Do you like this?” she asked, simultaneously squeezing and rubbing him.

  “I … I … want you.”

  “Shh …” Amanda’s lips pressed against his. Their tongues danced. And her hand worked his erection as his hand kneaded her breast through her blouse.

  She focused on her hand and blocked out all other stimuli. “Visualize you’re in me,” she urged.

  “Oh … Oh …”

  “Please …” She gently squeezed as her hand moved back and forth. “Please, Brad.” She felt him spasm at her grip. “Yes. Yes …” Her body wept in response to his sweet release. She continued to rub it until it lost its rigidity and dampness soaked through denim.

  Brad pulled back to settle behind the steering wheel.

  Amanda hoped his release had been sufficient. She slid across the car seat to his side and rested her head on his shoulder. “That’s all I can give you now. Hope that’s okay.”

  “Oh,” Brad said. “That felt good.”

  “Good enough, I hope.”

  “Oh, man, what a mess.”

  Amanda smiled. “I enjoyed the movie.”

  “Me too.”

  “And being with you.”

  “Yeah. You’re something else, Amanda.”

  “I have to take things slow. Understand?”

  “I believe so.”

  “I mean it. Very slow. But I’m no tease. It’s just … the way it has to be. For now. For a while.”

  “Yeah, I get it,” Brad said.

  “Really?”

  “I think so. Tonight was cool. You’re cool. I want to see you again.”

  Amanda snuggled closer. Her panties were soaked through and that was just as satisfying to her.

  “I want to see you again, too. I wouldn’t mind if we double-dated again, either. Maybe Pammy will be at school on Monday.”

  “That would be cool. Josh—I tell you, he’s going nuts that Pammy hasn’t returned his calls.”

  “Well, tell him not to worry. She hasn’t replied to my email either.”

  Amanda glanced at the clock. It was getting late.

  “I suppose I should get you home before curfew,” he said.

  “Only if you want to see me again.” She gave his softened penis a final gentle squeeze.

  They rode listening to rock music at low volume. Amanda didn’t masturbate often, and less so since moving into the Henning house, but she knew she would when she got hom
e. Home. It didn’t feel like home, although her routine of work, chores, school, and sleep offered a comfortable sense of place.

  Brad’s car pulled to the curb in front of the Henning house and slipped the transmission into Park. He reached for the ignition switch, Amanda knew, to shut off the engine and walk her to the front door like a real man. Her hand found his wrist and stopped him.

  “I was going to—” Brad started.

  “It’s okay,” she told him. “Your pants. Someone might notice.”

  “Oh. Good point.”

  Amanda unbuckled her safety belt, leaned across the seat to meet his lips. The tip of her tongue teased his. “Thank you for a wonderful time.”

  “Yeah. Sure. I’ll email you,” Brad promised, smiling at her as she stepped out of the car.

  “Okay.”

  Amanda rushed to the front door of the house, trying not to skip in the process. She took the steps two at a time, unlocked the door, and glanced back to watch Brad drive away before closing herself in.

  It was dark inside and quiet upstairs. No blaring television from Mr. and Mrs. Henning’s room, no creaking mattress springs in Amy’s room. Amanda shut her bedroom door, leaving the light off. She took off her clothes, including her still-wet panties that had ridden up inside her.

  A moment later, with a loose T-shirt covering her body to mid-thigh, she sprawled out on her bed, pillows and a bear supporting her back, knees up, legs open wide. The shirttail had ridden up to her hips; fingertips combed through pubic hair. She enjoyed the sensation of the well-groomed, long curls. Soon she would shave herself smooth. It just seemed right.

  She had just wet her fingertips with her tongue and started to touch herself tenderly when a creak sounded from down the hall, from the direction of her foster parents’ room. She sensed approaching footsteps. Was Mr. Henning going to Amy’s room? Or hers?

  Amanda closed her legs and tugged down her shirt. When knuckles rapped against her door she nearly wet herself.

  “Amanda?”

  “Yes, Mr. Henning?”

  “I’m coming in.”

  Amanda rolled her legs off the bed and sat up straight. “Is something wrong?”

  “You tell me.”

  Nothing was wrong besides him being in her room. “No, not at all. It’s late, and I’m tired.” She yawned for effect but remained wide awake.