Holy Device X: Resurrected (2 page)

Knock. Knock.

His eyes opened with a sudden jolt. Swinging his legs onto the floor, he sat upright and cursed the security guard's lack of understanding orders. "I told that fat son-of-a-bitch not to let anyone bother me!" he swore under his breath. "Fuckin' moron!"

Grumbling, he got to his feet and walked to the door. Despite the incompetence of the room's air conditioner, he felt a sudden cold. He gripped the doorknob and turned it, releasing the latch. It felt icy in his hand. The door squeaked on its hinges, as it swung open. Outside in the hallway stood a woman, her green eyes glowing in the pale light of the hallway. Long auburn hair adorned a head with the most striking face Devon could ever imagine. She stood about five-feet-ten-inches tall to his six-foot-four frame and had a body of flawless curves. From her long legs up to her full breasts, then from her neck up to her heavenly facade, she looked astounding—even to a man like Devon Illes. Thankfully, he held his tongue from the obscenities that almost spewed forth.

"Hi. I'm Vivian," she said with a quick curtsy. Shock and exhilaration danced in her belly at the sight of Devon standing in the doorway.

"Yes, you are." Devon soaked in every stunning detail of the woman before him. She offered her hand and he took it into his, feeling a chill radiating through their touch. "And what can I do for you? I usually don't see fans after a show." He had barely noticed it, but with each breath, a faint puff of white escaped his lips.

"Oh, I'm not just a regular fan," she hinted and smiled. "I've been to every show you've played in the state since
Thy Scars
came out in 2007. Even shows in other states ... when I could afford to that is." She giggled and looked at her prized shirt. "I tend to get carried away with the merch."

"Is that right?" He asked with such artificial indifference to hide the gripping curiosity he felt the moment he opened the door and saw her. The air felt strange, tingling with more than anticipation. A cool thickness seeped into the room, chilling the ambience, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. "You must be like our number one fan in these parts then."

"Uh-huh." She nodded her head, not once breaking her gaze.

He could not help it, but the firmness and tightness of her body distracted his eyes. Shaking his head, he marveled at the gorgeous creature. Though not a normal man who succumbed to every distraction handed out to him like Halloween candy from a bucket, he still had certain urges. His mind already swam with thoughts of what he wanted to do to this woman, depraved notions of carnal desires and sins. "As a general rule, I don't like to be bothered after a show, but..." A smile, sly and devious, graced his lips. A twinkle gleamed in his fiery eye. "I could make an exception. You seem ... worthwhile."

"You just wait. I don't disappoint."

"We'll have to see about that." No sooner had the statement departed his lips did he pull her into the dressing room.  With her a cold draft followed, joining them before the swinging door shut. He secretly loved having sluts and groupies lust after him. It gave him a sense of even greater power. Arm around her waist, he grabbed her tight, feeling her body against his as their lips met with a hungry crash.

She resisted, attempting to push him away, but he was as strong as he was adamant. But once she relented, gave in to her sexual urges, she realized she was right where she wanted—needed—to be.

Their mouths meshed—a tangle of lips and tongue. He reached up, losing his hand in the reddish-brown mane of hair. Wrapping his finger in the locks, he gripped tight and with a sudden motion snapped her head back. As he softly sunk his teeth into the tender flesh of her neck, he realized how long it had been since he satisfied himself, quenched his primal need.

A moan echoed from within her throat. In circular motions, his hands traversed the plain of her back and bottom, feeling the shapely form underneath her clothing. He tore at her shirt, ripping it even further, and clawed at her bra, revealing her bare chest, her bosom heaving with each unrestricted breath.

Vivian backed up until her legs touched the couch.

Devon’s breathing sped up.

She spread her legs and hiked her skirt up, exposing her manicured pubis to him. He sensed the beast in him begging to be released. Head tilted downward, he stared at her through the mess of black hair falling in front of his face. His smile transformed into a smirk—a devilish grin—framed by a trimmed jet-black goatee. As he unbuttoned his black shirt, he concentrated with laser focus as two of Vivian's fingers slipped deep inside her, disappearing between the glistening folds of her pussy.

He loomed over her, now, and she stopped long enough to undo his pants and pulled them down to his knees. With a genuine gasp, she stared mesmerized by the size of his manhood standing at rock solid attention, throbbing under the light weight of his underwear. Wide-eyed, she pulled his monster from its hiding place and filled her mouth with its inches. Devon threw his head back and shut his eyes tight. She commanded skill. The sensation of her tongue gliding over his taut flesh raised the skin on his arms. She was most impressive, indeed.

Back and forth her head went, wetting the shaft of his cock slick with her spit. He couldn't bear any more and pushed her head away, breaking the suction with a sloppy wet pop. He stepped out of his clothes, his solid form gleaming with a slight sheen of sweat that spited the chill. Muscles flexed under his skin; the skin stretched and pulled over the sinewy flesh. Close to her, he fought to ignore the odd icy tinge that poked a feeling of unease in the back of his mind.

Reaching down with his strong hands, he pulled the skirt from her body. Her smooth pale skin almost glowed in the dusty light of the dressing room. She continued to touch herself, her fingers sliding in and out. Her eyes fluttering, she massaged her clit as Devon fell to his knees. He knelt in front of her, holding his beast of a cock in his hand, stroking the shaft. The light flickered for a moment as he penetrated Vivian; a cold sting pierced his nerves. Stretching to fit his bewildering size, a lustful cry spilled from her mouth as she moved to the rhythm Devon offered.

Still inside her, he lifted her from the couch and held her close. They moved in steady time to the beat of an unearthly metronome. With ease, he held her up while slowly rocking his hips into her. She tried her hardest to absorb his cock all the way inside, all the way to the hilt. He lowered them both down to the couch. Remaining injected, Vivian rode hard, grinding into him. He absorbed the incredible sensation. Right now, he cared about only one thing—using this groupie, this whore, as an outlet for his built up carnal aggressions—a receptacle for his corporeal anger.

His tongue flicked from one hard nipple to the other, sending Vivian into minor tremors. Hands all over each other, they maintained the rhythm with faces so close they breathed the same air. Puffy clouds of breath mingled in the space around their heads until they dissipated. The atmosphere turned thick and fluid, as if deep in a dream.

A ringing perpetuated in Devon's ears. He felt dizzy; his vision blurred. Yet, all he knew was the tremendous, passionate lust, the undying urge to stoke the fire smoldering in his loins. Despite nearing exhaustion, he could not stop thrusting into her. He could not quench the thirst; douse the flame burning within his being.

His hands roamed her body, gliding over her porcelain skin, each motion exploring a different, but equally winsome, part of her anatomy. She strained to satisfy his overwhelming size; his member filled her beyond capacity and she quivered at his touch. He smiled as he prepared himself for the next phase of his release.

Devon kneaded the flesh of her back. Sharp nails ran down the length of her spine, leaving red welts in their wake. The feeling of being in her—engulfed by her—pleased him beyond words. Claimed by over zealousness, he dug into the soft flesh of her back. The pressure of his nails shot white-hot agony into her brain. Just like the rest over time, she needed to pay the price for his need.

A cry erupted from her throat as Devon's nails clawed hard into her skin. Uncountable streams of blood sprayed from her skin, arcing through the air and spattering the wall a slick shade of crimson. She pushed away, but he held her fast, his strong arms gripping her shoulders. A thick warm torrent now ran down her back. Blood, dark and thick, oozed from the deep scratches that broke the skin. Devon continued to rock into her, relentlessly, sensing his imminent release. His lips curled into a menacing grin as he forced himself in her, unwilling to let her escape. He needed the relief, the wonderful discharge of his evil seed.

The tender flesh around her shoulder blades burned. With ease, Devon's fingers ripped open her skin. Each plunge into her he tore deeper, his hands wetting with her blood. Screams poured from Vivian. Tears fell from her eyes as she pushed at him, trying to get away, clawing at his face. Agony filled the room, a deluge of torment.

Laugh.

All Devon could do was laugh. He didn’t care about her pain. Whatever brought her here to him, by fate or by luck, might be the death of her. He could see the fear smoldering in her eyes. He could smell it.

Then he stopped laughing.

Heat emitted from the wounds on her back, weak at first, but building with intensity by the second. Silence fell like a heavy blanket, threatening to suffocate. A sudden beam of white light invaded the dusky room.

What the...?" he asked with a sensation he hadn't felt in ages—genuine surprise.

They sat on the couch, naked and motionless, staring into each other’s eyes—one pair like fiery sparks, the other a tearful, emerald abyss. At first Devon didn't understand from where the light came. One after another, more beams of brilliance shot from the breaches in Vivian’s back.

She threw her head back with a resounding snap of bone, her shriek breaking the silence. From her mouth another beam of light spilled, shining wildly about the room as she flailed. Then, more luminance shooting from her eyes flooded the space like a heavenly beacon roaming the dressing room.

Devon's vision blurred again as the cacophony intensified. Vivian's cries echoed through the air and through Devon's body, shaking his bones. Yet, his engorged member would not falter, remaining strong as it stayed buried in her warmth. The turn of events, this twisted display of anguish, aroused him even more. His heart didn't skip a beat; the devilish smirk returned to his face.

Vivian's howls ended as abruptly as they began. Stillness settled again. The light emanating from Vivian's back faded to a dull yellow before altogether vanishing. In its place, white protuberances sprouted. Inch by inch, the boney-tipped, white protrusions spread out behind her. Feathers, blinding white where they weren't streaked with blood, unfurled. Stretched to their maximum, these heavenly Angelic wings filled the room with shadows. And within these shadows, the darkness seemed to move. Tentacles of gloom danced under the canopy of her wings, flowing over Devon's naked form like a rolling river.

Arms extended from her sides, symbolic of the death of her maker's miracle, she began breathing in rough and jagged breaths. Still with Devon Illes inside her, she tilted her head down to meet his fiendish gaze. The shiny green eyes that once graced her face now burned a blistering yellow. They burned with a furious lust—an insistent need. It was an aching for blood, his blood. The blood of this man, Devon Illes, this demon, was her's to shed. That was her chore, her task, the meaning of her existence.

"Oh...." Devon pointed a finger up toward the ceiling. "So you're one of ... His."

She clenched her fists until her palms dripped blood and her scream rent the silence. Her bare chest heaved as she breathed. A wildness infested her eyes as insanity tightened its grip on her infuriated mind. Regressing and frenzied, her head tilted in feral confusion. Flickering halo-light danced around her head.

Drip, drip, drip.

Blood from her self-inflicted wounds trickled down her legs and onto Devon as he smiled all the while. He had not said a word and his burning eyes had not flinched. He did not seem impressed in the least. That only made her fury worse.

All she knew was the wrath, the need for a bloodletting. She had done this so many times before, in one aspect or another, sent so many foul creatures to the Under Side. But she sensed this demon was special. He seemed almost indifferent to the fact that in mere moments she planned to reintroduce his foul soul to his master.

Casually he asked, "Are you finished?"

His eyes crackled brimstone red, electric with hate. He stared into Vivian’s eyes, scraping her soul with his very thoughts. Her head tilted as he gained access to her weakened mind, learning all her secrets, all her desires, and fears.

"My, my, aren’t we the little whore?" He laughed. "If I didn’t know better, I would think that you were enjoying this, my fucking you."

She had nothing to say. What could she say? Her dreams of earning passage back to the Everafter melted away as her mind fought to focus. All she knew now was piercing pain that stabbed her mind. Her hair tossed about as she struggled to shake free the stabbing spikes in her head, to block the mental assault. But he was inside now and she could barely move.

A vicious swing knocked Vivian from his lap, their carnal link broken. Her heavenly white panorama of wings faltered against the darkened backdrop of the wall into which she smashed. Once on his feet, Devon was a blur of bronze skin, his advance unstoppable—an unholy juggernaut. One of her wings tore, now soiled and tattered. Devon gripped the feathered appendage and launched Vivian into the air. The sounds of bones snapping echoed through the room. The words poured from her mouth, laced with a piercing crescendo, "You bastard!"