Coed Demon Sluts: Omnibus: Coed Demon Sluts: books 1-5

by Jennifer Stevenson

  “Hey, asshole raping my asshole,” I said over my shoulder. “You listening?”

  “Yes,” he squeaked.

  “Feel that?” I clenched a little more.

  “Yes!”

  “That’s the back door version of vagina dentata. Know what that is?” No reply. I clenched. “Do you?”

  He squeezed out, “No. Please.” He breathed on the back of my neck. He was trying to squirm his hands between our bodies, but he’d jammed himself too deep into me—and I had too good a grip on him.

  “It means I can bite your dick off with my ass. Not only will you be dickless, but I can probably keep everyone out of this room until you finish bleeding to death in front of me. Imagine the pictures in the papers. ‘He was raping a woman in a convention hotel and she bit his dick off and he bled to death.’ Imagine your family at the funeral. ‘Mommy, did Daddy go to heaven?’” I clenched again.

  “No! No—oh, god, no, please,” he sobbed.

  “If I let go of you, are you going to show me some respect?”

  “Yes! Oh, sweet god!”

  He didn’t mean me, but I didn’t take it wrong. I let go of his dick and he rolled away and fell off the bed with a thud.

  I stood up fast and pulled my dress down. My nerves had steadied. I was numb and iron-hard again.

  He looked up from the floor, bewildered, tear-stained, dark red in the face, his hands clutching his crotch.

  I realized suddenly that because of the succubus mojo, that whole time I was biting him, he’d been having orgasms. Even through the pain. I’d set this guy up for a new fetish. For the rest of his life, he would be begging women to bite his dick off. And tying things around it when nobody would bite him.

  Heh heh.

  So I didn’t lose my temper when he panted, “It wasn’t rape. You’re in here—you came here—looking like that—letting them all—”

  “Do I have your card, by the way?” I was rummaging in my purse.

  He choked. “Don’t tell my wife?” He’d meant it to be an order, but he was too much in shock.

  I leaned over him and put a forefinger under his chin. “Sweetheart, you’re in way more trouble than that. I want your card. Give.”

  One-handed, he got his card case out of his suitcoat pocket and fumbled one out for me.

  I smiled thanks and put it in my bag. “You see, I’m a sex demon from the Second Circle of hell. I get paid extra for mutilating rapists.” I let a flame show in my glare.

  His eyes widened. He grabbed at his crotch again with both hands, and looked down, as if checking to see if his dick was still there.

  “Just kidding, honey.” I patted his shoulder.

  He scrambled away from me, yelling incoherently.

  The bedroom door slammed open.

  “Who’s in there with her now?”

  “When do I get my turn?”

  “I’ve been waiting an hour!”

  “Craig! Craig, are you okay?”

  Men poured into the room. My recent assailant scrambled to his feet and backed toward the bathroom. Everyone was staring at me.

  My iron-hard numbness cracked open again. I could fight my way out of there—maybe—probably—but my brain wouldn’t work. I was mentally exhausted. I became aware that somewhere far away, someone was screaming and wouldn’t stop.

  I really wished Reg was here.

  At the thought of Reg I let a growl come out of my belly. I slung my little purse stuffed full of business cards around my neck by its long strap. Now my hands were free. The growl rose up into my chest, and I felt bigger and readier. Anger had left me. I felt nothing. I was empty, almost serene. I flicked my gaze from one face to another to another, deciding who to take down first.

  All those stupid, horny, drunken, puzzled faces were pale with fear now.

  Damn right, I thought.

  I relaxed onto the carpet and padded toward the door. They melted out of my path. The suite door was propped open. On my way out, I gave the door a healthy smack, denting it so badly that it would never close again. A chorus of shrieks, like a bunch of scared little girls, rose up behind me.

  It wasn’t until I stood in the elevator and saw myself in the polished mirror walls that the scream came up. Blackness swirled around me. I fled into it.

  I woke in the night to the sound of Reg’s whispering voice. I was curled up tight in his arms. I cried and cried, my mind empty. Gradually the sound of his whispering drove away the memory of men shouting. They still shouted somewhere, but Reg kept them away. Somewhere on the beach maybe. Or out there under the streetlights, like bats circling the skyscrapers of Bangkok. Far away. Reg was with me now. I felt infinitely comforted.

  After a while I stopped whimpering. I still couldn’t look at him, couldn’t open my eyes after what I’d seen in that elevator’s mirrored walls: the yellow eyes, the panting, furry jowls, the stripes, the fangs. I hid my face against his shoulder and let him soothe me back to sleep.

  Hours later, I woke again.

  Reg was asleep beside me—snoring? He was hot where I lay up against him, hot and kind of smelly. I got up on my elbow and looked around. I thought, We must be in his mother’s basement. By the glow of a Darth Vader nightlight plugged into the wall, I saw I was sharing the bed with a huge tiger. I was actually curled up against its white belly. My own skin was much darker, striped with scars all over, and I was about half my usual size. I plunged my tiny, dark, scarred fingers into the tiger’s plushy belly and squished.

  The tiger purred in its sleep.

  I snuggled deeper into its big, sloppy, furry side. Guess Reg was right about the child-protecting weretiger. Who knew he was so wise?

  When I woke up Reg was still cuddling me, but he was human now. My mind was clear and my mood was at full pissed-off succubus strength. There was no trace of the weak little kid I’d felt like last night.

  I might have dreamed last night, only I still stank of a gang bang, and there was an even stronger smell of live tiger in that basement. Shaking my head, I slid out of Reg’s arms, wriggled out of my horribly stained dress, and sneaked into his bathroom.

  I was just about to start a shower when it occurred to me to wonder if his mother was home.

  Would Reg kick me out again, if his mother came downstairs?

  I tiptoed to his bedroom door and listened. Nothing. I listened harder, extending my demon senses, and heard her moving around up on the second floor. Dammit.

  I stood there biting my lip, getting mad at Reg for maybe going to be about to throw me out, listening to my heart thump, waiting.

  For a miracle, Mom Rupak stumped downstairs to the main floor, made key-jingling noises in the front hall, and stumped out. I heard her key turn in the front door lock. Faintly I heard her footsteps going down the sidewalk. Then a car started out on the street.

  My brain started to work.

  As I saw it, this was my chance, maybe my only shot at getting Reg out of here.

  I would need the team’s help. Pog and Beth would be furious when they found out about last night. But they wouldn’t find out until after they helped me.

  I found my phone in my purse on the floor and made the call to Pog.

  Then I went in the bathroom for that shower.

  With hot spray in my face I couldn’t smell the smells of horny conventioneers on my skin. I scrubbed them off good and hard. My butthole was the only sore spot, which made me wonder, because part of being a sex demon is waking up feeling 100% perfect every day. My real butthole, the little brown broken one that only Reg had seen, had been torn into so many times that, in my seventh year, I’d developed an infection that gave me a raging fever for six months. I’d had a vacation from anal sex for another six months. After that, back to work. But I was wider and tougher by then.

  As I dried off with Reg’s skimpy towel—Batman circa Michael Keaton—I realized this was the first time I’d thought about those years in Bangkok since I signed my contract with Delilah. And my first memories had been ab
out my butthole. Figured.

  I wondered how Pog was coming along with my suggestions.

  Reg’s mom was out of the house, so Reg wasn’t liable to bounce me. I had stuff to do, quick.

  I went into his bedroom again.

  Reg was awake. He grinned delightedly at me from the bed.

  Then I saw the ankle chain.

  Reg looked where I was looking, and his face fell. “Shit.” Apparently he hadn’t noticed it before, either.

  It was a big chain, and not very new. You’d think the old lady knew he could turn into a tiger. It went from a businesslike steel shackle around his ankle to a steel bar bolted into the concrete floor. The carpet, which I personally wouldn’t have lined a birdcage with, had been laid over it years ago, and had worn away over time until the bar poked through.

  That told a whole story. She’d put that set-up in a long time ago. She hadn’t used it in years. She’d gotten so confident he wouldn’t run away that she laid carpet over it, and that was so long ago that the carpet had worn away.

  But now, all of a sudden, she thought Reg might run away again.

  I kept my eyes on that chain, thinking these thoughts in a clear-headed fashion, while Reg groaned and flopped back on the bed. The chain, I estimated, would just barely get him to the bathroom.

  Then it hit me.

  She was afraid he might run away from her!

  Hope bloomed so fast and hot in my heart that I almost smiled.

  I sobered. I knew she thought Reg might run away from her. But did Reg think it?

  “What the fuck is this?” I said in my iciest tone.

  Reg

  “What the fuck is this?” Jee demanded.

  I gulped. “Don’t be mad.”

  She looked great, all naked right outa the shower.

  “Don’t be mad?” Jee looked better than last night. When her voice went loud I looked up at the ceiling, thinking of Ma upstairs. “She’s not here. She went out in the car twenty minutes ago. Reg, what the fuck is this?”

  “I don’t want nobody to get hurt.”

  “Nobody meaning who? I’m not going to get hurt. Your mom? She never feels a thing. How about you? What if you get hurt, Reg? Maybe you like getting hurt.”

  I wondered if she was thinking how she hit me a couple of times.

  “I don’t hafta stay here,” I said feebly. That wasn’t true. I did. But I din’t know what would convince Jee.

  “You love it here,” she said.

  “I hate it,” I admitted. That brought up a big sigh I din’t know I had in me.

  She calmed down right away. She pulled over my milk crate fulla Ma’s old vinyl records. “Tell me about it.” She sat down like a supermodel sitting on a tow-truck bumper. One thing about Jee, she din’t care if she was naked. Her succubus body was like armor.

  I sat up. The chain went clank. It gave me the heebie jeebies. Ma hadn’t chained me up since I was fourteen. She used to think I din’t jerk off except in the bathroom. I never let on that I jizzed under my rug.

  I told Jee that, and some other stuff. It din’t come out easy. But I remembered how she told me about Thailand and what they did to her there, so I sucked it up and told.

  At first I felt like shit. Ma always told me how shitty I was, how that was why I deserved getting it from her. After I talked a bit, Jee come and sit next to me on the bed. That felt nice. Then I got to thinking, my Ma was making excuses for why she did what she did to me, like it was okay because I was shit. Jee wasn’t like that. If I screwed up, she smacked me but she din’t trash talk me, too. She made the rules, was all, and if I broke ’em, I got busted.

  I almost told her that. Instead I rushed into the main thing before she could beat me to it.

  “I know, I know. I know I gotta leave her. I actually thought about explaining to her last night, only I fell asleep.” I fell asleep eating ice cream that Ma poured chocolate sauce on. Did she put sleeping pills in the chocolate sauce?

  Jee looked mad again, and I sat still, thinking, If she hits me, she’ll have sex with me after. It felt strange to know my Ma chained me up, but Jee might hit me and have sex with me like that. I couldn’t decide if it felt good or bad.

  “Did you say to her, ‘I’m leaving?’”

  I hung my head. “I—I’m giving her time to get used to the idea.”

  Jee kicked contemptuously at the chain. “Don’t hold your breath.”

  “I know, I know.” I pleaded, “Look, this will go better if it’s her idea. Know what I mean?”

  “No. She beats you, Reg. You just lie there and take it. She didn’t have to tie you to the bed when she beat your feet.” The more upset Jee sounded, the more sarcastic her words got. “You lie there and take it and then you feel sorry for her.”

  “Wait, did you hide in my head or something?” I said, startled.

  “I turned invisible. I watched while she bastinado’d you.” Jee glared, and I swallowed. “In Thailand they call that torture. And then when she stopped, you looked as if you were going to hug her.” She narrowed her eyes, and her glare dug holes in me.

  I shook my head. “You din’t see me hug her. I hate that basta shit. Yeah, I felt sorry for her for crying. But then I figured, she’d got no business hurting me that much.”

  The memory of how I laid back down on my bed and waited for her to start on my feet again made me feel queasy. Ma coulda done that. What was to stop her? I din’t stop her.

  Jee made a face. “Now I feel so icky about hitting you.”

  “No! Hey, no, you never hurt me like that! I wouldn’t take that from you!”

  “You couldn’t stop me. You have no idea how strong I am, Reg. I could have broken the front door down yesterday. You’re strong too. Your mother can’t stop you, either.”

  “Why din’t you break it down?” I said wistfully.

  “Why didn’t you open it? Why did you leave m—us—and go back home with her? Why did you let her beat you? Why aren’t you burning this place down? She chained you up!” Jee’s voice went up until she was screeching.

  I took a few breaths. “It’s gotta be her idea, Jee. She hasta understand she can’t hold me. She won’t accept that, if I just walk outa here. I leave, she’ll follow me, she’ll track me down to the Lair. I can’t have her near my girls.”

  “I could break her in half one-handed,” Jee said hotly.

  “Plus, she’s my Ma,” I said, and the weakness hit me.

  I din’t talk to anybody about my Ma because, well, she’d always been there, and I had nobody else to talk to. She could make the weakness come. Now I was doing it to myself. Making myself weak.

  “She’s my Ma. I take care of her. She needs me.” I felt my throat get hot. “All that stuff I do at the Lair? I do it here. It’s my job. I don’t make any money, but I keep this place nice, and I rub her feet when they’re sore, and I put her medicine on the bad places, and I take her to the store and the doctor and stuff. Who else is gonna do that for her?”

  I thought suddenly about how great it felt to do that stuff for Jee and the girls. Only they paid me. Yeah, and Jee and I did stuff which was unbelievably awesome. But mainly they was just so nice about it. They said thank you.

  I finished that thought out loud. “Ma couldn’t get nobody to do it for her besides me. She don’t know how to be nice enough.”

  “She can hire a houseboy,” Jee snarled. “Reg, you’re a grown man. You’re what, thirty?”

  “Twenty-three,” I said.

  She did a fast double-take and then plowed on. “Big whoop. You can walk. Grow up! Take responsibility for your own life!”

  “It hasta go two ways,” I said stubbornly. “She hasta let go of me, too.”

  Jee leaned close and looked hard into my eyes. “She’s not going to let go, Reg. You have to just go.”

  “Look,” I said desperately, “I woulda thought you would understand this. Being as how you grew up like that. In that place.”

  “But I was a—” She stopped. �
�I was a thousand miles from home. My whole family was gone. I had nobody.”

  “I got nobody except Ma. I never did. She’s got me, that’s it.”

  Jee narrowed her eyes again. “You’re afraid of her.”

  “Duh!” I waved my hands at the chain on my ankle. “That basta-what-you-said? She been doing stuff like that to me all my life. All my life. I get stronger, it gets worse.”

  I sat there and stared miserably into Jee’s big black angry beautiful eyes.

  She looked away and started checking out my room.

  I felt ashamed of my room all over again, like I did when I come home with Ma last week. Stinky carpet, nothing but old broken toys and junk, crappy old bed. I wondered if Jee would ever let me hold her in that bed again. Ma was right. Nobody wanted me. I was just worthless junk.

  What’s worse, there was light-brown stuff all over my sheets. I gave it a rub, hoping Jee din’t spot it. It stuck to my sweaty hand. What the heck was it?

  I gave it a sniff. “Dog hair?”

  Jee turned towards me. “Cat hair.” She had a funny light in her eye.

  I felt stupid. “I don’t have a cat.”

  “You sure about that?” She just smiled.

  And then she started, I dunno, melting. Her smile got wider and wider. She sank down and spread out and got all... stripey. And then, holy fucking shit, there was a tiger on my bed! Wasn’t hardly room for me on it!

  I jumped up and fell over the chain on my ankle.

  When I stood up, Jee sat there on my bed again. Naked. Boy, did she look good.

  She said, “Last night I woke up in your arms. And then I fell asleep. And then I woke up again, and there was one of those in the bed with me.”

  I blinked. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Purring.”

  “N-no,” I stammered. “It was y-you. You were—you do that in your sleep. Turn into a tiger.”

  “I turned into a tiger last night in a hotel room downtown, a hotel room full of conventioneers who all thought they had a right to fuck me, whether I wanted them to or not,” she said, freezing my blood. “I—had a panic attack. I was ready to kill them all. Only I was too tired and, okay, scared. I became a tiger then. And when I woke up, I was here with you. Couple of hours later, I woke again. That time, I was a little kid, and you were the tiger.”