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- Herausgeber: Nixie Fairfax
- Kategorie: Erotik
- Sprache: Englisch
Angry at her parents, Mehitabel Cook conducts a satanic ritual to call down evil upon them. But when three vicious demons appear, Hitty discovers she’s in way over her head. After inflicting far greater evil on her parents than Hitty ever wanted, the monsters turn their brutal attentions on their summoner and mercilessly rape the helpless girl, forever defiling both her body and her soul.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018
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A Lesson in Evil
A Noncon Monster Sex Story
By Nixie Fairfax
Copyright 2018 by Nixie Fairfax
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This work contains explicit sexual content and is intended for adults only. All characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
Hitty Cook shouldered through the last row of corn and threw herself to her knees in the small dirt clearing, not far from the old wellhead. As she removed the supplies from the paper bag she had brought, she kept casting spiteful glances in the direction from which she had just come. The farmhouse, of course, was hidden behind a hundred rows of moonlit cornstalks, but she glared at it anyway, and at her parents asleep inside it. Motherfuckers. She’d show them. She’d show them but good.
Those old shits had gone too far this time. After her friend Brandon got busted for breaking into one of the mausoleums in the local cemetery—he just wanted to look around; it wasn’t as if he was going to take or break anything—her parent went into full-blown fascist mode, searched her room while she was out, and confiscated half her stuff. Her Crowley books. The Ouija board she lifted from the pawn shop in Delia’s Corners. Even her black lipstick and nail polish. Worst of all, they found the secret stash of pot and vodka in her closet. And of course they completely overreacted and grounded her. Right on the eve of that big party at Scott’s, too. She had been planning to try to score with Holden there. It was her last chance to get into those yummy tight black pants of his before he went off to college.
Fucking goddamn Nazis. They had no right to treat her like that. She was eighteen, for fuck’s sake.
“As long as you’re living under my roof, Mehitabel,” her dad had said in response to her protests (it seemed like he only ever used her full first name when he was pissed at her), “I am not going to have you whoring and drinking and flirting with evil ways.”
Evil. God, what bullshit. As if Smirnoff’s and black makeup and The Book of Thoth were evil. This was the 21st Century! Well, except here in Crakerman County, Iowa, where it was obviously still the mid-13th. Those stupid old farts didn’t know the first thing about evil. But tonight Hitty was going to give them a lesson.
Using the bone-white light of the full moon to read the instructions she had printed off the internet, she opened the baggie full of ashes (swiped straight from the latest trash fire, whose contents had included most of her confiscated goods; she doubted Dad would appreciate the irony), and she sprinkled the ashes on the ground to form a magic circle with a pentagram in the center. Then she set up the thirteen black candles around the circle’s circumference and lit them.
