A Girl Possessed
by Peggy Swenson


CHAPTER ONE 

Donna Kaiser lay sleepless in her bedroom, studying the billowing drapes 
over her window, listening curiously, enviously, a little fearfully, to the 
party noises from the well-lit patio and from the more distant living room 
of her family's rambling, luxurious ranch-style home. She could hear the 
muted pounding of the Pacific at the base of the cliff ... the drone of a 
jet as it followed its flight pattern over exclusive Palos Verdes Peninsula 
to Los Angeles International Airport. 

She slowly worked her legs free of the bedclothes. She was too warm! She 
rolled over onto her belly, but her thin nightie twisted and bunched 
uncomfortably. She pressed her face hard into the soft pillow. Her loins 
were glowing ... glowing ... Her nipples-She tried to sleep! She abruptly 
twisted around onto her back. Her nightie was a strangling, itchy torment to 
her hot, smooth skin. Donna clenched her fists. She sobbed and scrambled 
from her bed. She straightened her nightie and sat on the edge of her bed. 
She closed her eyes and sighed. She licked her full, petulant lips. 

Donna trembled inexplicably when she heard her father's loose, drunken, 
bull-like laugh dominate a sprinkle of guest laughter. His voice carried for 
a moment on the erratic breeze: " ... believe it. Where the fuck'll we find 
a virgin in this crowd?" 

Donna blinked rapidly. She let herself fall backward, arms wide, onto the 
bed. The nightie, for a second, billowed, then settled down onto her lush, 
prematurely developed breasts. Her button-like nipples were crinkled and 
hard, aching, itchy! Her round, firm, tanned thighs began to press together 
rhythmically. The glow in her loins sharpened deliciously. It was so 
tantalizing. She clenched her fists and jerked open her legs. NO! Something 
TERRIBLE would happen if she let herself do that! She struggled to sit up 
again. She looked at the luminous dial of her new watch. Her father had 
given it to her on her fifteenth birthday, three days before. 

Her breasts were so hot! She hated the nights, the trying to sleep, the 
struggle to keep from touching herself. Every other girl she knew admitted 
doing it-masturbating. Donna's thighs inched together. The urge in her lower 
belly ... that awful, alluring, promising sweet tension ... became stronger. 
But a quivering tension, a fear rose up and kept her from giving in. She 
sprang to her feet and pressed herself roughly against the wall. She turned 
and twisted, rubbing her large, round, upturned breasts roughly against her 
closet door frame. It hurt some, and that drove away the need for a few 
minutes. 

The puffing wind carried her father's voice again: " ... virgin, a virgin, 
my kingdom for a virgin!" 

Donna began to cry. She hit her lower belly and triangle with a trembling 
fist. "Stop it, stop it!" She glanced at her watch again. It was almost one 
A.M. Donna knew her father's Friday night parties often lasted until dawn. 
They always disturbed her. Her body always seemed to burn worse than ever 
during these endless weekend nights. This night was awful for her. The last 
year ... as her breasts had grown so alarmingly, had swelled out, had 
deepened and rounded ... The impulse seemed to whisper in her mind: Do it. 
You used to do it. You did it a lot, and it felt so good ... When she was 
twelve and her nipples, like pink buds, had blossomed on her undeveloped 
chest. And she had discovered her clitoris ... 

MOTHER, I'M SORRY-She threw herself, sobbing, onto her bed. 

The drapes puffed inward to bring a laughing scream-a woman-her delighted 
cry: "Frank!" 

What had her father done now, Donna wondered. She had often spied on him and 
his parties. She could now if she wanted to. The 7 x 50 binoculars were in 
her drawer, waiting. She could stand by the right side of the window and 
peek behind the drapes and see half the patio, in stunning, intimate detail 
with the glasses. 

One night a man and woman had made swift, frantic, animal love in the bushes 
under her window. Donna had crept, snakelike, across her bed to her side of 
the partly open sliding window and listened ... and had even seen ... The 
man had been bald, with wisps of dark hair spread very thinly over the bare 
skull. He had worn heavy-rimmed glasses, a madras sports coat, a green tie. 
The woman had been a redhead, overweight in a tight white gown cut deep to 
show her big, fleshy no-bra breasts. Her nipples had projected shamelessly. 
They had kissed wetly, greedily, and the woman's hands had fumbled and 
groped at the man's pants. He had unzipped and whispered huskily, "Suck." 
The woman had hiked up her dress and gone to her knees. In the deeper 
shadows, amid the bushes, she had taken the man's white, stiff organ into 
her red-lipped mouth. She had sucked noisily, uninhibitedly. 

Donna had peered out, almost unable to breathe, shivering, incredibly tense, 
eyes saucers. Strange chills and heats had sprung to life in her young body. 
The woman had sucked the man for a long moment, then taken her mouth from 
him. She had whispered, "That's enough. I want it in me." She had stood and 
hiked her gown up to her hips. She had leaned back against the window frame. 
The man had pressed close ... there had been fumbling ... and the woman had 
caught her breath as he entered and obviously went deep. Donna had had 
shivers as she interpreted the woman's gasp. And then had come the heavy, 
erratic breathing, the rustling of cloth and flesh, the bump-bump-bump 
against the house. 

Donna had been thirteen. She had never forgotten the sight/sound of that 
intense, furtive coupling ... or the explosive, suppressed climax of the 
woman-the gut-deep grunts and heavings, the animal joy in the woman's 
muffled cries. And the man's hissed breath as he came, too, and battered her 
against the wall and window. Donna had been left limp and trembling, biting 
her lower lip, clutching the bedclothes with tight fists, her thighs tight 
together, rhythmically tightening and loosening. 

Donna turned over onto her stomach and tried again to sleep. The party 
sounds interfered. She rolled over onto her back. The breeze puffed over her 
naked thighs and cooled her sticky cleft. She opened her legs wide, then 
swiftly closed them. She decided to read. She reached up and found the 
switch to her headboard reading lamp. She squinted in the sudden yellow 
glow. She pinked and worked her sleeping gown back down under her buttocks 
and over her knees. She reached for the book she had been reading off and on 
for a week: Eros and Evil by E. E. L. Masters. She knew her father would not 
approve. But she had been interested in witchcraft and the occult for over a 
year. She was a moon child-July 13th-and Venus was also heavy in her 
astrological make-up. She had just begun to read when she heard the 
characteristic heavy, limping tread of her father in the long hallway 
leading to her far-end bedroom. She plunged the book under the covers and 
switched off her lamp. 

His draggy steps came to her door. He rapped lightly. "Donna? Asleep?" His 
voice could not be lowered to a quiet, non-penetrative level. It was a 
baritone that could be heard through the thickest walls. Everyone told him 
he should have been a stage actor. He owned a successful brick factory. 
Frank Kaiser opened her door slightly and looked in, a crooked smile on his 
wide lips. At thirty-six he was graying, but he didn't care. He wore his 
thick brown hair in a disciplined, long style, with elaborate mutton-chop 
sideburns. 

"No, Daddy." Her heart thumped. Her throat tightened and she didn't know 
why. Her Persian kitten, Tribble, darted by her father's shoes and trotted 
to the bed. He leaped up, clawed to keep from falling back, and began to 
purr. He came into her arms. She scratched his ears and stroked his back. 

Frank said, "We have a problem." He entered her room. He was a big, heavy 
man, six foot two, two hundred twenty pounds, and he walked heavy. He came 
to her bed, the hall light behind him casting his face and front in shadow, 
in darkness. 

Donna tensed. "What's the matter?" 

"Well, honey ... " He held a drink in his left hand. He stirred the cubes 
and amber liquor with a long, thick, manicured finger. He smiled and showed 
his two gold front teeth. He loved the startled looks he got from staid 
fellow businessmen when he smiled. He said, "I've got a crazy guest who 
claims he's a warlock. That's a ... " 

Donna breathed, "A male witch." 

"That's it. Right-O. Though if his wrist was any limper, I'd wonder about 
... Well, he says he has a formula-or a spell-or an incantation, or 
something that he can recite that will raise the Devil from Hell." He sat on 
the edge of her bed. Frank paused to swallow from his glass. He coughed. His 
eyes slid over Donna's bust. Her nightgown was thin and clinging enough to 
reveal with startling fidelity the size and thrust of her buoyant flesh. 
Tribble lay against the warm curve of her right breast. He was purring, 
rubbing his head against her. 

Donna noticed the slant of his gaze and flushed in the semi-darkness. To her 
further embarrassment, her nipples surged with crinkling, puckering 
stiffness and began to ache slightly with arousal. 

Frank shrugged. "This guy is weird. He says he has to have a virgin laying 
on the rug inside a pentagram he's going to draw around her. She's supposed 
to tempt the Devil ... like a worm on a hook." Frank threw back his head and 
boomed a laugh. "Trouble is there isn't a virgin in the house except you, 
honey." He gazed at her with mock doubt. "You still are, aren't you?" 

"Yes." She giggled. 

"Would you like to be part of this little game? Everybody chipped at me to 
come and ask you. We're all drunk as skunks." 

"Okay. Should I get dressed?" 

"No, come as you are. That's decent enough." He stood up to let her climb 
out of bed. Tribble jumped off to the carpet. Frank watched Donna swing her 
long legs out from under the covers. Her nightgown rode up her thighs as she 
slid to the edge ... almost revealing her triangle. Donna stood and let the 
nightie settle to its normal ankle length. She went to her make-up table and 
turned on the mirror light. She drew a comb through her long, honey-blonde 
wavy hair. There was a funny fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. 
She knew she was afraid and didn't know why. She glanced at her father in 
the mirror. Frank stood a little off-center because of his war-damaged left 
leg. It was an inch and a half shorter than his right, and a mass of 
scarred, oddly shaped muscle below the knee. She had seen it twice. Her gaze 
darted at his loins and saw the ever-present bulge. She knew he was huge 
there. She had never seen her father naked, but she just knew! 

Donna was proud of her lovely hair and body. She knew she was something 
special, and she had never gone out on a date, never let a boy get close to 
her, never mixed well with other teenagers. Not since her mother had died. 
Donna couldn't look at herself, especially at her face, too long in a 
mirror. Her blue eyes, staring back, reminded her too much of mother's dead 
blue eyes. 

She turned off her mirror light and went with her father down the long hall 
to the main body of the house. She held his big, strong hand. Voices and 
party sounds and bright lights increased. Holly Barnes, Frank's girl friend 
for the past two months ... the only woman friend he'd had since his wife 
had died ... came out of the bathroom as they passed. 

"Oh, Frank, you're not going to do it!" 

He grinned loosely, more than a little drunk. "Sure! Donna's game-aren't 
you, baby?" 

Donna nodded, then nervously licked her lips. She liked Holly. She said, 
"That's a far-out outfit." 

Holly wore a shimmering blue culotte with a big front and no back. The sides 
of her loose, small breasts were pale white in contrast to a light tan on 
her back and arms. 

Frank put his left arm around Holly's narrow waist. "It's only a joke. Come 
on." His voice pierced the house. It brought guests to meet them as they 
entered the large, sunken living room. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

Donna was uncomfortable and embarrassed at the focus of curious, envious, 
resentful, lustful eyes. The men stripped her with their eyes; the women 
recognized her youthful beauty and suffered pangs of self-comparison. 

Frank called, "WEBSTER! Here's your virgin! Now put up or shut up!" 

A tall, lean, bearded man with drilling, mocking gray eyes entered from the 
patio. He wore a severe black suit, an orange shirt, a white tie. His 
straight hair curled up at his shoulders. He carried an old, leather-bound 
volume under his arm. He held a tall drink. Webster took in Donna and his 
fat, sensuous mouth quirked. "The last one in Los Angeles, and oh, so ripe 
... if true." 

"Casting aspersions will only get your head knocked off, my friend; it won't 
get you off the hook. Start your wizardry, wizard!" 

"My pleasure. But first ..." Webster came to Donna and took her hands in 
his. He penetrated her soul with his eyes. "This will be a genuine 
Summoning, my dear. The elements are virginity and purity. In these days 
virginity is rare and purity ... " His heavy lips twisted. "Purity is 
unknown." 

Donna's heart was thudding. Her mouth was dry. "I am a virgin!" 

"Perhaps that will be enough. Ideally I would need the purest of candles, 
the purest of oils and scents. I would need a toad and a cat to sacrifice. 
But ... people, even drunks ... " his eyes swept the amused, dull-eyed 
guests. " ... these days squeamish and fearful of stripping away their skin 
of civilization. Yet they want to see Hell's Master!" He laughed wryly. 
"We'll see what happens. I promise nothing." 

Frank laughed. "Crawfishing." 

Webster ignored him. He took a thick hunk of blue chalk from his coat 
pocket. He knelt on the beige, sculptured Wilton carpeting and drew a large 
pentagram. He did not quite close the last connection. He motioned to Donna. 
"Step inside now and lie flat on your back, hands at your side, feet 
together." 

Donna felt sick to her stomach, but she obeyed. As she stepped into the 
pentagram her skin goose-bumped. The air suddenly felt cold. She lay as he 
had directed. She watched him take plain white candles, light them and erect 
them in small saucers. He placed a saucer just outside each point of the 
five-pointed diagram. Webster commanded, "Kill the lights." 

Guests scurried about turning off lamps. In a moment the house and patio 
were in darkness except for the flickering pool of yellow light around 
Donna. She was breathing deeply, quickly. The air was colder within the 
pentagram; she was sure of it! The candles guttered and dimmed as wind 
poured into the house. Someone slid the patio doors shut. Someone said, 
"Creepy ..." 

Webster stood outside the pentagram and took a small, jeweled, old-fashioned 
crucifix from his coat and placed it on the carpet between his feet and the 
pentagram. He said, "I must have quiet while I invoke. This will take a 
while. If you wish to leave, do so silently. Do not under any circumstances 
attempt to enter the pentagram or poke anything into it, or throw anything 
into it." 

Frank put his arm around Holly. His fingers teased the side of her left 
breast. He said, "Get on with it, Webster." 

Donna lay in the fluttering pool of candlelight and stared at the coved, 
painted ceiling. She shivered. She felt terrible apprehensive. Webster took 
up the blue chalk again and drew the last, incomplete line of the pentagram. 
Donna trembled. I'm sealed in. I'm doomed! 

Webster returned to his position behind the glittering crucifix. He opened 
the worn leather volume he had kept pressed to his side under his arm. 
Without any further preamble, he began to read, in a strong, certain voice. 

"Emperor Lucifer, Master of all the rebellious spirits, I beg you to be 
favorable in the invocation that I make to your great Minister Lucifuge 
Rofocale, as I wish to make a pact with him. I beg you also, Prince 
Beelzebub, to protect me in my enterprise." 

"O Count Astorath! Be propitious, and bring it to pass that, this very 
night, the great Lucifuge appear to me in human form and without any evil, 
odor, and that he grant me, by means of the pact that I shall offer him, all 
the wealth that I need." 

"O great Lucifuge! I beg you to leave your abode, in whatever region of the 
Earth it may be, to come and speak to me. Otherwise I shall constrain you by 
the power of the great living God, his Son and the Holy Spirit." 

"Obey promptly, or I shall torture you eternally by the force of the potent 
words of the Great Key of Solomon that he himself used to bind the 
rebellious spirits to accept his pact." 

Donna felt dizzy. She heard her breathing grow louder, and Webster's voice 
grow weaker ... more distant. She was cold! She wanted to sit up, to stop 
what was happening! Her mouth was dry with panic! Her heart was going so 
fast! 

But she could not move! She lay rigid. From the corners of her eyes she 
could see the chalk lines of the enclosing pentagram glowing with a strange 
luminescence. A clammy terror slimed her stomach. Donna tried to speak, but 
her throat was paralyzed. 

Webster and the other guests seemed not to notice the glowing chalk lines. 
Webster continued his invocation. "So come forth instanter! Or I shall 
torture you endlessly by the force of these powerful words of the Key: 
Agion, Telegram, vaycheon, stimulamation y ezpares retragrammaton oryoram 
irion esytion existion eryona onera brasim moym messias soter Emanuel Saboot 
Adonai, te adoro et invoco!" 

Donna lay in a pulsing silence. She could hear nothing! She watched 
Webster's lips move, but his voice was soundless. The air within the 
pentagram was thickening, beginning to stink of rotten eggs. Her hair 
rustled with static electricity. Her skin felt invisible feathery touches. 
Donna heard ... a deep, guttural, evil chuckling. Not her father's voice. It 
was too close! It was coming from within the now blazing lines enclosing 
her! Her breasts were touched-as invisible, hot, scaly, rough claws slowly 
clamped onto her flesh. Her nightgown bulged and crawled there. A fetid 
breath from a creature she could not see enveloped her face. The smell made 
her stomach turn. Donna's throat strained against its paralysis. Her eyes 
rolled wildly. She screamed in her mind. WHAT WAS HAPPENING TO HER? 

A hissing voice-sound: "Virgin cunt. Yes, a fresh, beautiful virgin cunt!" 

Donna's heart was racing! She was gasping, panting with fear. A terrible 
dread sickened her. Vomit surged into her throat from her clenching roiling 
stomach. She closed her eyes and shuddered as the unseen claws tightened 
cruelly on her breasts. Talons seemed to be sinking into her flesh. Her 
nipples were sandpapered by rough, dry, hot, leathery skin. 

The horrible, sibilant voice crooned in her ear, "A virgin's soul is tender 
and juicy with innocence. A sweet young body to use ... " 

Donna couldn't believe it was happening! Yet she was entombed in silence, 
alone with ... what? THE DEVIL? 

"No, I am only a demon. I am a slave to Pruslas who obeys Anmon, who obeys 
Barbatos, who obeys Satanachia, Grand General to Lucifuge Rofocale, all of 
whom serve Emperor LUCIFER." 

The claws twisted Donna's breasts as the voice intoned Lucifer's name. 

"And now you, Donna Kaiser, virgin, will serve our Master, for as long as it 
amuses me!" 

Talons scraped her sensitive nipples ... and her nipples perversely 
responded. The constant glow in her lower belly caught fire and flared. Some 
of the guests had noticed the movement under Donna's nightie. They pointed. 
Their mouths formed words she could not hear. She saw her father staring. 

"Open the way for your defloration. Part your lovely white thighs, bitch! 
You tempt me! My prick is now Lucifer's prick!" 

Donna felt a pressure, a force, wedging between her legs. She gasped. The 
claws mauled her breasts and caused a strange internal heat. Her nipples 
crinkled to buttons of fire. She fought the unseen strength that was slowly 
parting her thighs. She panted and perspiration beaded her forehead. Her 
fear was a constant, sick pool in her stomach. Donna rolled her wild blue 
eyes to her father in mute appeal. She still could not speak. 

Frank frowned and growled at Webster. "What the hell's happening to her? 
What are you up to?" 

Webster was standing rigid, riveted, white-faced. "My God." 

A male guest laughed. "Great act." The candles flickered and nearly went 
out, yet there was no wind. 

Frank gripped Webster's thin arm in an iron hand. "What are you trying to 
pull?" 

"You wanted a demonstration of black magic. You wanted a calling up of 
Lucifer ... Maybe you got more than you bargained for. Something weird is 
happening to that girl." Webster looked down at the old leather book in his 
right hand. "I didn't think it-" 

Their attention was drawn to the candlelit pentagram. They saw Donna's knees 
raise jerkily, as if her leg muscles were in conflict. Her face was a mask 
of terror. Contorted. Her chest rose and fell very fast. A pulse showing in 
her neck betrayed a heartbeat well over 100. Abruptly, her knees jerked wide 
apart-with such power that her nightgown was ripped open. The rent extended 
to her chest and obscenely revealed her belly and loins. The guests stirred 
and made comments. Was this girl really Frank Kaiser's daughter-or an 
actress hired for an elaborate joke? 

Frank stared at his daughter's nakedly revealed vulva-the light fuzz of 
curly blonde hair on the plump mound, the slightly parted pink lips, the 
shocking wetness of arousal! He swore, "Jesus! DONNA! Get up! Stop it!" He 
took one limping stride to the blue chalk diagram and reached to pull the 
girl up. He grunted, staggered and lurched backward. He fell heavily and lay 
stunned. "I couldn't get in. I couldn't touch her. Something shoved me 
away!" 

Holly was scared but afraid to show it. "Frank-this is a put-on, isn't it?" 

The guests looked from Donna within the pentagram-the silent, weird 
five-sided star drawn on the carpet-to the ashen-faced Frank. They didn't 
know what to think. Their hair prickled and they wiped sweaty palms. 

Donna heard nothing of this. She had resisted to the utmost, but then the 
evil, whispering, invisible beast had triumphed and spread her knees with 
terrifying strength. His claws now were probing at her vulnerable, naked 
center. A leathery body was between her thighs. She felt hot, stinking 
breath on her bare belly. The voice crowed lasciviously, "Lovely cunt. I 
love virgin cunt juice." 

She gasped as a slithery, hot, sand-papery tongue slid between the spread 
lips of her vulva. Her hips jerked upward. A shameful thrill of pleasure 
mixed with pain darted through her belly. "She likes it. Oh, the virgin cunt 
bitch likes goat tongue!" The invisible creature laughed. Its claws reached 
into her torn gown and pulled at her glowing breasts. The talons nipped 
hurt-fully at the swollen nipples. The beast's tongue, pointed, burning, 
spread into Dona's vagina. She screamed. Her raw howl of pain and shock was 
loud in the pentagram, but unheard beyond the glowing borders. 

Donna felt the abrading tongue penetrate deeply, snakelike, so hot! She 
writhed and twisted, but the thing-the body-restrained her, and the claws 
dug into her breasts till she felt her lush white and pink flesh was surely 
cut and bleeding. Donna squirmed with shame and embarrassment, too. She 
could see everyone watching! She could see their expressions of mingled fear 
and avid fascination, the amazement, bafflement, cynical disbelief. 

The demon snuffled and drooled as it took her virginity with its sawing, 
darting tongue. She felt its teeth-fangs?-gnawing at her tissues. Bristles 
from its face-muzzle?-scraped her inner thighs. Her mind reeled with shock 
and horror. She yelled, "DADDY! DADDY!" But she knew he couldn't help her. 
She was doomed. 

Frank saw her mouth contort in a soundless cream, saw her flailing and 
struggling ... and saw the inexplicable illusion of her nightie being torn 
open farther to reveal her proud, fully developed young breasts-creamy 
mounds of flesh that were indented, squeezed, twisted ... mauled! as if by 
an invisible rapist. He grated to Webster, "Stop this! Whatever you did to 
her-STOP IT!" 

Webster gasped, "I warned you-I don't understand ... " He wiped his mouth 
with his hand and tore his eyes from the scene in the pentagram. He dropped 
to his knees before the nearest wildly flickering candle and intoned, "I am 
pleased and contented with thee, Prince Lucifer, for the moment. Leave thou 
in peace now ... " He stumbled and faltered. "Leave thou in peace now and 
... " He began to search frantically through the old book. 

Donna was close to fainting. Her mind swirled. She felt that awful tongue 
curling farther and farther into her body ... into her womb! 

And somehow the demon's voice came into her mind while its mouth continued 
to engulf her vulva. "Sweet juices! Ah, the taste of virgin cunt! But now 
I'll fuck you! My prick will be Lucifer's prick! You'll be my wife, Donna! 
You shall obey me in all things! What fun we'll have! What pleasure in doing 
Lucifer's work!" 

The horribly long, sand-papery tongue withdrew. Donna sobbed with relief, 
but could not close her thighs. She remained wide open ... and felt a scaly 
body move up onto her ... felt the claws mold her large breasts into 
exaggerated, painful shapes ... felt the terrible probing of a cold, stiff 
something at her vulva. 

She cringed! She wept. "No ... please ... " 

The sibilant voice hissed laughter in her mind. "Devils always have hot 
tongues and cold pricks, bitch!" 

Her arms and hands were unable to affect the immensely strong thing that 
crouched over her. She smelled and felt again the foul breath. The odor of 
rotting flesh bubbled vomit in her throat. A huge, icy knob entered her 
vagina. Her opening was distended by its size. She bucked helplessly. She 
howled. The immense thing went deeper and deeper, stretching her, thrusting 
ruthlessly, cold, cold, cold! Donna was totally impaled by an unseen, frigid 
organ of huge length and thickness. She lay shuddering, weeping, in a pool 
of agony. Yet there was no blood. Even when the demon began to move with 
terrible plunges, slowly, slowly, with excruciating power ... cackling and 
drooling with lust in her quivering, reeling mind. 

Webster found the chant he was looking for. He did not see what the others 
saw-the incredible opening of Donna's vulva, the impossible gaping of her 
vagina, the sucking of her belly, the pressuring of her thighs and 
breasts-the total illusion of intercourse! Webster began again. "I am 
pleased and contented with thee ... " 

Donna grunted under the loathsome creature's vile thrusts. The penetrations 
were faster now and even deeper. She was a vast shrieking agony between her 
thighs, in her belly. The demon was panting, crooning its obscene pleasure 
into her brain. 

" ... Go in quiet and without trouble. Do not forget our pact or I shall 
blast thee with my wand. Amen." 

"Webster has the wrong incantation!" The demon bellowed with joy. Donna's 
mind felt split, rent, bulged by the infernal laughter. "It was too late 
once I got Lucifer's prick into you, piglet! NOW IT COMES! HE COMES!" The 
great organ, invisible, chilled, swept up into her tortured belly, to the 
hilt! Donna's neck muscles stood out like iron bands as she screamed her 
throat raw. An unseen ice-like spurting was inundating her womb! The cold 
substance spread through her loins, her belly, lancing tendrils farther and 
farther ... as ever more chilling semen jetted into her body as the terrible 
laughter filled her mind. 

Frank threw himself again and again at the pentagram-that silent, inviolate 
diagrammed space-within which his stark-naked fifteen-year-old daughter was 
being ravished by an invisible monster. He believed it! 

The bubbling pain was in Donna's chest ... spreading up into her neck. Her 
body flung itself, convulsing, in a travesty of intercourse. Her unnaturally 
wide-spread thighs trembled visibly. Her belly bloated and concaved with the 
giant unseen thrusts. The awful, icy devil's semen was in her brain, 
spreading, tainting every cell ... curdling her mind, permeating every part 
of herself! Donna changed. The demon took her. The demon became her. The 
demon settled in ... 

 CHAPTER THREE 

Frank Kaiser led the way into Donna's room. She appeared to be asleep. Her 
left arm was flung limply to the edge of her twin bed, the fingers slightly 
curled, twitching as if readying for typing. Frank whispered to the doctor, 
"She came home last night from a date-babbling and acting ... funny. Crazy. 
Her clothes were torn and it looked ... I thought she'd been raped." 

It was a lame story. But the truth would be ridiculous. Doctor Holder wasn't 
the kind of man you could tell strange truths to-he was old, had always worn 
a vest, and snorted derisively at words like supernatural, psi, E.S.P. and 
the occult. The doctor glanced keenly at Frank. "Didn't call the police, 
though, did you?" He opened his bag and looked closely at the girl asleep in 
the bed. He took out his stethoscope. 

Donna lay as if dead. There were no eye movements under her lids. Only her 
chest rose and fell slowly as she breathed; her twitching fingers had 
stilled. 

"There wasn't any blood or ... anything. She wasn't scratched or bruised 
anywhere. But she raved ... " 

"You examined her?" the doctor asked. 

"I had to undress her and put her to bed. I noticed-" 

Donna had opened her vivid blue eyes. She stared up at her father and the 
doctor. One corner of her full, petulant mouth smiled. She said sweetly, in 
a normal voice, "The girl was royally fucked last night. She didn't enjoy it 
much, but virgins rarely do. Her enjoyment is beside the point now." 

Frank's chest tightened. Donna had spoken that way last night, too, after 
the weird power of the pentagram had somehow gone and he had been able to 
cross those blue chalk lines, lift her into his arms, and carry her back to 
her bed. He had been terrified, crying, as he slipped another nightie on her 
limp, exhausted body and listened to her voice speak of herself as another 
person. 

Doctor Holder sat on the edge of the bed. He took her wrist in his hand and 
found the pulse. "How do you feel, Miss Kaiser?" 

"She is locked away. The controls are in other hands now." 

The doctor's eyes flickered. "Interesting. Mind if I examine your body?" 

She chuckled lewdly. Her hand turned adroitly in his grasp and her middle 
finger tickled his palm. She kicked the covers violently away and revealed 
herself. Her pink nightie was rucked up about her slim hips. She spread her 
knees obscenely. "Fill the cunt with your wrinkled old prick, Doctor." She 
laughed dirtily. Her voice was deeper than normal, now. It was as if a 
foul-mouthed man were speaking with her larynx. "It's only good for fucking. 
It's still tight and new." 

Frank said, "God, Donna-" 

"God is dead, father of the girl. Don't you know that yet? God is dead and 
all's evil with the world." 

Doctor Holder freed his hand and began a swift, gentle examination of 
Donna's exposed genitals. 

She stopped speaking and watched, her blue eyes narrowed. "Lucifer's prick 
leaves no traces, does it, Doctor? Slide your hand in, feel around." 

Holder had inserted a finger after having slipped on a thin plastic sanitary 
glove. He made no comment. He peeled it off. He pressed his stethoscope to 
her heart. 

"Want me to speed it up for you?" The pulse in her throat speeded 
dramatically. Her eyes brightened. She studied the doctor intently. 

He withdrew the listening piece from her soft young breast. "With a pulse 
like that, young lady, you should be in a hospital, under close observation. 
Tachycardia is a serious business." 

She changed. Her pulse slowed. "No, I don't want to go to a hospital. I'll 
be good, honest." She turned worried blue eyes to Frank. "Don't put me away, 
Daddy. I've been nasty and I'm sorry." Her voice was normal. 

Frank didn't know what to think. He said nothing. The old doctor sat 
studying her for long seconds. Finally, he reached down and drew the covers 
back over her nakedness. 

She said, "Oh!" and drew the coverings higher, to her throat. She blushed. 
Her thighs closed under the bedclothes. 

Doctor Holder stood up slowly. He rubbed his back and rotated his left 
shoulder. "Like to talk to you in the kitchen over some coffee, Frank." To 
Donna he said, "Stay in bed. I'm going to prescribe a tranquilizer for you." 

"Can I watch TV?" 

"Yes, do watch TV." Holder and Frank left the room. 

In the modern, plasticized, blue and white kitchen, Frank and the doctor sat 
opposite each other in the breakfast nook. They sipped from hand-painted 
yellow coffee mugs. Sunlight poured through the curtained window. 

Holder tapped his mug and pursed his lips. "Hysteria or she's playing a 
particularly vicious game with you." 

"If she was raped last night-" 

"You didn't wash her off last night?" 

"No." 

"Maybe she did during the night. There was no evidence of secretions ... 
male secretions. Her hymen has very recently been torn open, however." He 
sipped coffee noisily. "She should have felt that examination. She should 
have jumped when I touched those torn membranes. For that matter, there 
should have been at least traces of blood." He shook his head. "The mind can 
use the body in strange ways." 

Frank remembered Donna in the pentagram. He closed his eyes and saw her 
gaping vulva, the terrifyingly real illusion of intercourse-of rape! He 
rubbed his eyes. "Doctor, is it possible for the mind to command genital 
muscles ... I guess vaginal muscles ... to the extent of tearing a hymen 
like that?" 

"I've never heard of it having been done. It would have to be an 
extraordinarily deep hysterical conversion: I'm an old-fashioned doctor, 
Frank. You're asking psychiatric questions. Not in my line. I've seen girls 
go blind, paralyze themselves, develop ulcers, suffer hearing loss, you name 
it, through repressed emotions. Psychic and physical energy combined with 
guilt or shame or fear ... God knows what can be done." 

Frank watched Holder write a prescription on a pad. "Should I take her to a 
shrink?" 

"I would." Holder smiled. " 'Shrink.' I like that." He slid out of the 
breakfast booth. "Have you talked with the young man she was out with last 
night?" 

"Oh, yes! I ... I called him right after I put her to bed. Came close to 
calling the cops on him, but she was so clean ... He denied anything beyond 
kissing her a few times. He's a good boy. I know him, and I believe him." 

"Well ... then a psychiatrist. This probably has something to do with your 
wife's death last year." 

"I suppose ... yes." Frank remembered Donna's hysterics. She had found 
Ellen. 

Doctor Holder arched his back slowly. He picked up his bag. "That 
prescription is for a mild Valium. Three times a day. Don't let her go out." 

Frank nodded. He asked, "Can you recommend a good shrink?" 

"I suppose Granger is about as good as they come. Beverly Hills, of course." 

When he had seen Holder to the door, Frank turned to go to the phone. He had 
to make an appointment with the shrink, had to call his factory and tell 
Babs to route business around him for a few days, if possible. Jenks could 
take over operationally. 

"Daddy ... Daddy ... " Donna's sweet, too-childish voice called. Siren-like, 
wheedling. 

He didn't want to go into her room. He was suddenly afraid of her. He stood 
indecisively in the house entrance way and stared at the hallway that led to 
her room. 

"Daddyyyy ... " 

Frank limped across the living room-across the still visible chalk markings 
on the carpeting-and into the hallway. As he entered the bedroom, Donna's 
kitten, Tribble, trotted down the hall and entered with him. It was a cute 
gray and white Persian. It mewed softly and crossed to the bed. The girl lay 
as he and the doctor had left her, but with the covers pushed down to her 
waist. She had slipped down her nightie and was examining her left breast. 
Frank stopped just inside the door. He didn't like his inability to look 
away from that luscious flesh. He said harshly, "What are you doing?" 

"Examining. This is a lovely body, isn't it?" Her blue eyes rose to his. 
They were alien, somehow. "You lust for it, don't you ... Daddy?" She 
laughed. 

"Don't talk that way, Donna." He kept his distance. He was sick at how she 
talked and acted. She did need attention! She was deranged. 

Tribble gathered himself and jumped up onto the bed. He made a small half 
mew and walked onto Donna's hip, expecting to be petted. The girl made a 
face and casually, brutally, knocked the kitten off the bed to the floor. 
The kitten didn't understand. He jumped up onto the bed again. 

Donna watched the kitten innocently move toward her chest. "Kitty want to 
suck tit?" She offered a breast to the small Persian. Tribble, as if it 
understood, put a soft paw on her naked chest and licked the white, globular 
side of her right breast. Abruptly Donna seized the kitten by the throat. "I 
do not like cats!" She threw it across the room. Tribble squalled and 
twisted in mid-air-but hit the side of the walnut-finish pine student desk 
and dropped to the carpet. It raced out of the bedroom. 

Then Donna experimentally stroked her left nipple with her left palm. Her 
right hand cupped the full, firm breast. She said, not looking at Frank, 
"What did you think of what happened inside the pentagram last night? Did 
you think your innocent, virginal daughter was being fucked by an invisible 
being?" 

"I don't know what to think. Except, Donna, I want you to see a 
psychiatrist." 

"A Freudian witch doctor or a Jungian witch doctor? Perhaps a Reichian? 
Would you go along with orgasm therapy, Daddy?" 

She had stroked the nipple to full, wrinkled prominence. "That feels nice, 
that tickling. It's been well over a thousand years since I've had 
possession of a young female body. Demons of my class aren't given the 
opportunity much during this so-called rational age. Our time is coming 
back, though. As soon as you run through the major, easily acquired 
minerals. Your vaunted scientific civilization will soon crack and crumble 
and then ... the Old Truths and the Old Ones will return." 

Frank limped a step closer to the bed. He scowled. His stomach was in knots. 
"What's happened to you?" 

The girl's face rippled and sagged-then seemed to reform to a mask of 
stricken terror. Her eyes were pools of weeping blue. Her voice came pure 
and real: "Help me, Father! It's like being in jail. I can't control 
anything! There's a monster in my head!" 

Frank knew that was his daughter speaking, the real Donna. He went to her. 
He sat on the bed and took her into his arms. He held her and soothed her. 
"I love you, honey. I'll help you. I'll help you. Fight the monster, Donna. 
Fight hard!" 

She clutched at him. Her arms went around his neck. She sobbed 
brokenheartedly. "Daddy, it's horrible! He makes me say things, and do 
things ... " 

They were both not recognizing the heat of her breasts against his shirt. 
Frank felt the soft, warm pressures but ignored them. Abruptly, seconds 
after they had embraced, Donna jerked and emitted a weak scream that faded 
... as if she were receding, falling away from him down a deep, dark well. 
He pulled from her arms. Her face had wiped clean of emotion. Then it set 
into the subtle alienness of a moment before. The soft mouth twisted 
cynically, the appealing gaze narrowed. Frank shivered. A different, evil 
intelligence seemed to look out at him. The transformation was so convincing 
... so horrible. 

She smiled lopsidedly. Her voice was different again. "Kiss me, Daddy." She 
lifted her mouth. Her arms crept around his neck again and tightened with 
incredible strength. She whispered harshly. "I want you to fuck me, Daddy. 
Fuck your sweet, innocent daughter." 

Frank's stomach roiled. He tried to draw back. Her arms tightened-her soft, 
hot lips pressed against his mouth. He turned his head. He reached up to 
pull her arms away from his neck: He grunted as he had to exert all his 
strength to break her hold. She possessed maniacal strength! 

"Stop it, Donna!" He held her wrists in his powerful hands. It had only been 
three years since he had stopped working at the kilns. He still occasionally 
put in an hour in the yards working up a good sweat, keeping in condition. 
He knew he was a strong man. He knew a slight fifteen-year-old girl could 
not normally have the strength he had just fought. He felt a very fast, 
heavy pulse in one of her wrists. 

She tore her right hand free of his grip. She arched her back and cupped her 
left breast invitingly. "Come on, Frank, suck the tit. Do what you really 
want to do for once." Her thumb stroked over the erect, flushed, button 
nipple. 

He gritted, "Stop it!" He dragged his gaze to her amused, calculating young 
face. 

Suddenly, her hand dove to his crotch and groped for his genitals. "Got a 
hard-on, Frank?" 

He leaped up, away from the bed. He listened to her laughter. What could he 
do? What would she do next? What would it do next? 

"Well, shit, it you don't want to play-" She threw the bedclothes aside and 
slid from the bed. She pulled the long nightie up and off. She was 
startingly, beautifully naked. 

Frank said helplessly, "Donna, get back in bed. You can't go anywhere." 

She walked sensuously to her closet. Her hips waggled enticingly. Her large, 
round breasts swayed and jiggled slightly as she moved. Her long, 
honey-blonde hair rippled over her shoulders. She slid open the closet. "If 
you won't fuck me, I'll find someone who will. The first walking prick I 
come to. I'm not going to waste any time. This body is ripe for sex." She 
took a pair of orange hip-huggers from a hanger and a blue-striped t-shirt 
from a drawer. 

"You're not going out!" Frank thought he'd have to tie her down. God ... God 
... He turned and headed for the utility room. He had a work bench there, 
tools, twine. He limped heavily across the kitchen toward the utility room 
door. He heard a faint slap-slap of bare feet behind him. Frank turned and 
saw Donna, still stark naked, a blonde young goddess, pulling open the knife 
drawer in the work table beside the tall, modern, white chrome-trimmed 
stove. He froze as she drew out a long butcher knife. 

She faced him, an alien smile twisting her mouth. "No, 
father-of-the-daughter. You don't tie up this nice body. You don't call a 
psychiatrist. You obey me if you want to stay alive. You obey me if you want 
this daughter's face to stay as beautiful as it is." She placed the steel 
blade between her pink, full lips, razor-edge inward. "One slice and her 
smile will be very wide-and bloody." 

Her strange blue gaze riveted Frank. He licked his lips. "Don't." His voice 
trembled. 

She took the knife from her mouth. "I am master of this body and I am master 
of you, Frank Kaiser. You'll obey me or this knife-" She placed the long, 
glittering blade against her chest, under the smooth, soft thrust of her 
left breast. She cupped and lifted the breast gently. "Would you like to see 
your Donna with a left tit? Would you like to see her cut it off and eat 
it?" 

"No-Jesus, God ... " A terrible sinking sensation claimed the pit of his 
stomach. She was insane! Insane ... or ... actually possessed by a demon. 

"I am here, having been legally Summoned, with your full permission and 
assistance-" She laughed. "-and I have been given this body, this sweet 
young daughter of yours, with your full permission and assistance ... you 
did take her from her bed, did you not, and persuade her to enter the 
pentagram? ... and I will use this body and this opportunity, to do my 
master's will." 

She used the knife to make a cabalistic sign in the air. She muttered 
throaty, guttural words. Her eyes glowed. She stepped slowly toward Frank. 
The blade gleamed in the morning sunlight. She grinned. "Now a bit of 
incestuous evil to start the day right. Yes. I'll grant your secret desire, 
Frank, and hers." 

The butcher knife weaved before Frank's face. He was hypnotized by her eyes, 
by the force that poured from her. He barely heard her words. "Into the 
master bedroom, gimpy father. Move!" 

He lurched out of the kitchen, across the sunken living room, and up to the 
angled passageway that gave onto the double doors of the large bedroom. He 
knew she followed. He stopped beside the massive king-size bed and turned. 
His daughter's exquisite tan and white nakedness was like a physical blow. 

"Strip!" 

Frank felt his face twitch. He tensed. Could he grab the butcher knife away? 
She was insanely strong ... probably her reflexes were faster than his ... 

"Strip, or six inches of this knife will be buried in your gut!" 

He pleaded, "Donna, don't do this to yourself." 

"You still haven't accepted me, have you? You will." Her electric blue eyes 
locked with his. 

Frank felt himself sinking back into his brain, retreating before the power 
of her ... of its will. He felt dizzy. Her voice echoed in his skull: "OBEY 
ME! OBEY ME IN ALL THINGS!" 

He nodded. His hands began to unbutton his shirt. Two minutes later he 
straightened after having stepped from his white briefs. He felt foolish, 
embarrassed, and scared. As long as Donna held that butcher knife she was 
dangerous to herself and to him. 

She lounged on the big bed, her tanned thighs casually open. "Well, well, 
Frank. You are a stud, aren't you? Make it hard." 

"I ... can't." 

She pricked the chocolate and raspberry striped bedspread with the blade. 
"Here, beside me. Doesn't the prospect of fucking your daughter excite you?" 

"You're not my daughter." 

She chuckled. "True, 'I' am not. But this-" She caressed her naked breasts 
and then cupped her lightly fuzzed mound. "-is." She never let go of the 
knife. It was always gripped tightly, alertly, in her right hand. 

Frank had no choice but to lie beside her. He stretched out on his back. He 
couldn't get an erection, not under these conditions. There was no way ... 

She put her soft, curious left hand on him. His stomach muscles went tight. 
He closed his eyes as she manipulated his soft penis. She whispered, "Donna 
is curious about her daddy. Let it get hard, Frank. She wants to see it 
hard." 

He lay as if dead. He didn't answer. Her hand, he had to admit ... her hand 
was clever and knowing. Her hand was warm and soft and skilled. Her fingers 
caressed the sensitive underside of his glands. She squeezed and pulled 
gently. He clenched his teeth. No, damn it, NO! 

On a purely physical level his body was responding. He felt the slight 
initial stirring of his penis, the first flow of hot blood into the soft, 
shrunken, spongy length. He groaned. He kept his eyes closed. He heard her 
lewd chuckle. His penis was growing now ... filling dramatically, tingling 
from her expert fondling. She was slowly pumping him, finger tipping the 
glands with brief, exciting touches. He knew she was seeing the full eight 
and a quarter inches of his full erection. Her hand swept up and down in 
triumph. She said huskily, "This will be fun! I'll let her feel this in all 
its glory." 

Frank felt the knife point dig into the side of his chest. "Climb on, Daddy. 
Fuck your daughter now. Give her a thrill." 

He gritted his teeth and shook his head. The razor edge of the butcher knife 
came cool and deadly to his throat. It began to saw gently. He felt a line 
of terrifying pain cutting across his Adam's apple. He croaked, "All right." 
He rolled over on top of her, blindly. He crouched on knees and elbows. 
Unwilling to see. He knew his erection was leaving him. He felt her legs 
part, her knees raise and spread wide. His genitals touched her center. 

"Lost it, haven't you?" She was contemptuous. Her free arm went around his 
neck and drew his head down. Her soft, warm mouth pressed against his tight 
lips. Her tongue flicked enticingly, seeking entrance. He refused. The knife 
tip pricked the side of his back. Gradually, the pressure behind it 
increased. The point entered his flesh. It was a deepening agony. He opened 
his mouth slightly. The knife retreated, and her tongue slipped into his 
mouth. Her lips were sweet and yielding and now hot. Her tongue fluttered 
devilishly ... yet he was turned off. It repulsed him. 

She sensed this and stopped. She released his head. "Open your eyes, Frank." 
Her gaze smote him, held him. Her pupils were dilated. "You will fuck Donna, 
sooner or later. You will obey me in all things! You will not resist my 
will!" 

He fought the slave words that formed in his mind, on the tip of his tongue. 

She smirked. "If it's too soon for you to fuck your precious daughter, you 
can eat her. That should make you both happy." She cupped her right breast. 
Her hand coned the white flesh to greater prominence. "Suck her tit, Frank." 
The knife weaved menacingly. 

He obeyed. He rationalized. At least he had avoided intercourse. He refused 
to think of what was to follow. He closed his eyes again and let his mouth 
find the offered breast. The pink, button-like nipple seemed to pop into 
between his lips. It was crinkled and stiff. 

Without realizing it, he slipped into his usual lovemaking techniques. His 
tongue rolled the nipple, flicked it, grazed it. He sucked it deeper into 
his mouth. Frank became aware of his daughter's sighs, of her restlessness 
under him. He stopped. 

She whispered throatily, "You're good. Now the other one." She shifted and 
pressed her left nipple against his wet lips. 

Reluctantly, he began kissing and sucking again. He didn't enjoy it ... yet 
he did. And when she commanded, "Use your hands on them," he obeyed her 
immediately. 

Donna's breasts were incredibly smooth, the skin like warm, taut silk. He 
couldn't resist their perfection, their full roundness, the sensual beauty 
of their youthful, upward thrust. Her body was so ripe ... so ripe ... so 
well developed. Frank almost succumbed. His erection began to return, then 
faded. The knife cut in his back stung too much to be ignored. The agonizing 
knowledge that this was his daughter-Donna!-overlay his mind like a black 
fog. The situation was impossible; it couldn't be happening! Yet when he 
took his hands from her lovely breasts and took his mouth from her nipples, 
she growled, "Don't stop!" in that strange, ruthless, alien tone. 

He crouched over her and filled his hands with those twin, arching mounds of 
white flesh, and drew first one stubby pink nipple, then the other into his 
mouth. Frank had secretly fantasized this situation a few times ... he 
conceded many times since Donna had begun to develop physically in her 
twelfth year ... but now that it was reality it wasn't exciting. It was 
ruined ... by his conscience and by the awful circumstance of her 
derangement. 

She squirmed under his hands and mouth. She whispered, "She likes it, Frank. 
Now ... now lick down the body. Eat your daughter, Frank. Lick ... drink 
from her sweet cunt!" 

He moaned, "Oh, Christ-" He reared up to lunge off the bed- 

Her blue eyes drilled him. Her left hand clamped on his right arm with 
steely strength. The point of the butcher knife was suddenly weaving a 
fraction of an inch from his left eye. "You will obey me in all things!" 

Where did this terrifying force of will come from? He couldn't resist it. He 
felt in the presence of pure Evil and total bestiality. He believed she 
would plunge the knife into his brain as casually as into a grapefruit. He 
was not worth anything to her. She was no longer human. She was no longer 
his daughter. 

Frank licked dry lips. It wasn't worth getting killed over. "Okay ... I 
will." He moved backward down the bed like a great white beetle. He dipped 
his head and tongued her sunken, tanned belly. He tasted the salty residue 
of her sweat from the night before, from the time in the pentagram. Her 
thighs opened for him. Her knees rose and the pink and white lips of her 
vulva parted stickily. 

Frank settled down. He lowered his head into the soft V of her thighs. His 
arms slipped under her lifted thighs and embraced them. He stared at the 
pouting, moist vertical slit and saw the tiny glistening pink pea that was 
her clitoris peeping out at him. 

He closed his eyes. He hesitated. Then he pressed his mouth against the 
musky lips and licked his tongue between the flushed labia. She tasted 
acidy. He sent his tongue deep to the opening of her vagina. He felt her 
loins surge against his open mouth. 

In spite of himself, Frank experienced a thrill. He loved to do this for 
young, slim women. He loved to give pleasure and to receive it. He loved the 
interaction of lovemaking, of feeling a woman tremble as he plunged his 
large penis into her and the uninhibited shaking of a woman in orgasm. 

He wondered, if Donna had an orgasm, would the shock of it, the turmoil ... 
be enough to bring her back to sanity? Did she need this incestuous trauma 
to drain her of an adolescent sexual madness? He hugged her smooth, slim 
thighs more tightly in his arms and burrowed his tongue into her vagina. He 
heard her soft gasps, her swift exhalations, and felt their jerky tensions 
in her belly and thighs. 

Frank existed in a dual role-lover automatically doing his job, using his 
knowledge and skills-and horrified father forced at knifepoint to sexually 
service his daughter. He licked upward in the warm, wet pink gorge of her 
vulva and grazed the tiny, swollen knob of her clitoris. It was a remarkably 
well-developed clitoris, he thought, almost clinically, as large and 
protruding as Ellen's had been. 

He tried not to think of his dead wife. He still wasn't over her completely. 
An ache was reawakened. 

When his tongue slid over her clitoris, Donna gasped loudly and her loins 
spasmed against his mouth. "There! Eat there, more!" 

The guttural, lewd command shook him. He obeyed. In the moments that 
followed, she became more and more agitated. She moaned and panted. Her body 
writhed, her belly fluttered and she spasmed. She loosed full-throated cries 
of ecstasy. Her loins bumped furiously against his clinging mouth. She 
quieted. He lifted his wet mouth from its long, gaping contact with her 
pulsing center. She grabbed his hair and roughly pulled his head down again. 
Her thighs closed in. "More! This time for Donna!" She laughed evilly. 

His jaws and his tongue were tired. But he delved into the juicy pink wound 
again and soon she was gasping and moving again. He could hear her approach 
another orgasm. He could feel the gradually increasing tension in her 
muscles. 

As she panted into the irreversible torrent of a powerful climax she 
abruptly went loose for a split second- 

Then a huge, wrenching convulsion wracked her body as she sobbed and 
screamed, in her true voice, "OH! OH, DADDY! DADDY!" She howled with shame 
and rapture. "I CAN'T HELP IT! I DIDN'T-" 

Frank went into shock. He jerked his head up. He stared into the hysterical 
eyes of his daughter-her normal, fifteen-year-old self was there, surfaced, 
trapped in a humiliating orgasm, knowing how she had been brought to it. She 
flushed violently as the pleasure ran its course. She turned her face away. 
She panted helplessly. 

"Donna," Frank croaked. "Oh, Jesus, baby-" How could he explain? But if she 
were herself now- 

A rippling spasm shook her. She began to shake. He thought she was sobbing 
silently, but her head turned toward him and a terrible skin-crawling horror 
goose bumped his skin. She was laughing. The demon was back in her eyes, in 
her mind. The shaking broke into sound. Peals of derisive, mocking laughter 
hammered at him. Frank bowed his head. He wept. She wasn't through with him. 
When the laughter subsided she commanded, "Now over onto your back!" 

The knife. He had no choice. He turned. The bedspread was initially cool 
against his back and legs. The small wound between his shoulder blades 
stung. He felt exposed. His penis was limp between his thick, well-muscled 
thighs, but he was afraid she would be at it again. He closed his eyes 
tightly. He was right. She quaked the bed as she moved around. He felt her 
straddle his right thigh. A cold, slimy knot formed in his gut. He felt her 
soft, warm, cunning fingers touch and toy with his genitals. He felt the 
wet, hot lips of her vulva crushed down on his hairy leg. 

She chuckled and gathered his genitals in one hand, as if they were a fleshy 
plant she was about to pull from his body. He felt the cold, chill length of 
the butcher knife against his pubes. He lifted his head, eyes wide. She 
seemed about to cut off his manhood. A queer, twisted smile was on her lips. 
"This gets your attention, doesn't it, Frank? Did you enjoy eating your 
daughter? I thought it a nice touch to let her out and know what it's like 
to come from your tongue. You're an excellent tongue man, Frank. I'm sure 
Donna will want more of it." 

He lay rigid, barely breathing. 

"No, I won't do it. I have plans for you. I've killed so much in the 
past-it's no great thrill anymore. I enjoy using people against their will. 
That's the delicious tang of power." 

He could say nothing. He relaxed as she took the knife from his scrotum. 

"Now let's see ... let's see how good a cock-sucker your lovely Donna is." 

"No-" 

But she bent over and scooped the whole of his softness into her mouth. The 
evil smile lingered as her lips and tongue gently, with incredible 
lascivious skill, began an irresistible, warm, liquid, caress. 

Frank's mind swirled with conflicting emotions. No inexperienced teenage 
girl could suck like this! Where could, Donna have learned? NO! She-It had 
to be a malevolent spirit-Fantasy! God-it was impossible to keep from 
enjoying. 

He began to breathe faster. His hands lay palm up at his sides, then slowly 
closed into fists as he fought the gentle sucking that was eroding his 
self-control. His penis began to fill and lengthen. He gasped and gritted 
his teeth. He tried thinking of work ... of Ellen ... But it was useless. 
She had conquered him. His full eight and a quarter inches towered up from 
his loins, held by her hand at the base. Her fingers squeezed rhythmically 
as she sucked. She somehow was taking more than half of it ... to the back 
of her throat ... long gliding strokes of her mouth and slithering tongue. 
He watched, like a rabbit hypnotized by a snake. Her blue eyes watched his 
expression, fed on his emotions. Her head dipped and rose slowly, 
exquisitely, tantalizingly. Now the tinglings of pleasure gathered like 
trickles of sweet hot syrup in his loins. He fought the rising tide of 
sensation. He couldn't let himself come! 

She chuckled and smiled around the thick hot bulk in her moving mouth. She 
saw the torment, the struggle reflected in his expression. She tightened her 
mouth on him and subtly speeded her motion, and her tongue danced against 
galvanizingly sensitive tissues. 

Frank threw his head back. His throat worked. He gasped. His belly 
tightened. The heavy muscles of his thighs hardened. I can't ... I can't ... 
I mustn't ... Oh, Jesus, please, no ... no ... not in her mouth ... 

He tried to pull his penis free. She emitted muffled, wet laughter and 
crammed even more into her greedy mouth. He couldn't escape. It was going to 
happen! He groaned. His face worked. His belly ridged. He began to tremble. 
His breath rasped in his throat. 

His head lifted, shaking, and his agonized gaze fastened on his daughter's 
bobbing head. She was making shameless gobbling, liquid sounds. Somehow she 
was able-or the thing who possessed her wets able to command it-to let his 
glands enter her throat beyond the palate. Her full, wet, pink lips clung to 
his throbbing, rigid shaft, and swept down farther ... farther. 

It was inhuman. It couldn't be done. Yet before Frank's horrified, dazzled, 
ravished eyes she engulfed the whole of his massive penis. Her throat 
spasmed, clenched, convulsed ... Her hot blue alien eyes sucked at his soul! 
He gave a wailing, stricken cry. His loins seemed to expand in a golden 
explosion of boiling ecstasy-and contract-and pump a jet of semen into her 
throat. He was beyond thought, beyond shame and guilt. He jolted her head 
with primitive coital thrusts. He spurted violently, again and again. 

Endless seconds later he went loose and relaxed. He lay drained, dull-eyed, 
breathing deeply. Her mouth still claimed his shrinking organ. He tried not 
to think. Then suddenly she gave a strangled cry and jerked her head away. 
His penis fell juicily to his belly. Frank raised his head quickly to see 
... Donna was herself again! She crouched, her face a mask of horror and 
revulsion, her mouth open, contorted, thick dribbles of semen running from 
her lips, down her chin ... His heart almost stopped. He paled. Donna began 
to heave. A spew of brown vomit splashed on his left thigh and onto the 
bedspread, rapidly soaking into the fabric. 

Frank instinctively pulled his leg away. Then he recovered and moved to take 
her into his arms. "Donna, I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. I didn't-" 

The heaving had changed character. It was ... laughter. Her face came up. 
Glowing eyes. "Kiss me, Daddy!" 

He recoiled from her. He realized he should have had the presence of mind to 
grab the knife while the demon had momentarily stepped aside in Donna's 
mind. Now it was too late-her hand was again tight around the polished 
walnut handle. She brought her free hand up and coated her fingers with the 
remnants of semen on her face. She captured his eyes with hers and licked 
her fingers clean. "Ummm. I like your scum, Daddy." 

Frank's stomach turned. He almost vomited, too. "Stop it. Leave me alone." 

"For now. You may shower and dress and go about your business. When you 
leave here you will not contact a psychiatrist about me, you will not go to 
the authorities. You will return before sunset. I have plans to make." She 
brandished the knife. "Disobey and your daughter will be disfigured in ways 
that will make even you cringe and turn away at the sight of her." 

He could only nod. He was in a state of shock. He lurched off the bed and 
limped heavily into the master bathroom. 

She smiled and found his coat. She took out his wallet and took two fifties 
and two tens. She went to the large mirror and, using a finger dipped in the 
slimy vomit, drew an occult symbol on the clean glass. Then she left the 
master bedroom. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

Webster looked up from old handwritten manuscripts on his ornate mahogany 
desk. The doorbell chimed insistently. His full, sensuous mouth firmed with 
irritation. He clicked off the lighted magnifying glass he had been using 
and stood up. He stepped around a mound of old books, past an antique 
overstuffed sofa, crossed the thick Oriental rug to the sliding double doors 
that led to the entrance way of his turn-of-the-century house. He could see 
only a distorted image through the stained glass windows in the front door. 
He turned the gorgon's head brass doorknob and pulled the door open. 

Before him, smiling prettily, stood Frank Kaiser's daughter-the 
breathtakingly lovely girl who had behaved so extraordinarily in the 
pentagram the night before, at the party. She wore a frilly yellow dress 
that matched her long, golden hair. She had that neat, freshly scrubbed look 
people admire and value so much. But she wore no bra or slip. Her nipples 
poked out against the loose-knit, translucent acetate, showing smudges of 
pink. She did seem to be wearing pantyhose. 

Webster glanced down the walk to the street. No car at the curb. He said, 
"Miss Kaiser ... ?" 

She nodded. Her expression shaded into worry. "Yes. Mr. Webster? I got your 
address from my father's address book. You don't have a phone." 

"No, I don't. It's an intrusive monster." He frowned. "May I help you? I 
intended calling this evening-I walk to a store to make the few absolutely 
necessary calls I must make-ahh, to find out how you were." 

"That's why I came. I have to talk to you about what happened to me!" She 
bit her lower lip. She seemed on the verge of crying. 

"Well ... certainly. Come in." He looked again at the street-up and down the 
quiet block in the older section of Long Beach. "Are you alone?" 

She nodded and quickly slipped inside. She continued on into his 
book-littered study where he had been working. 

Webster frowned and shut the door. He followed her. "How did you get here?" 

"Cab." 

He puffed his lean, sallow cheeks. He idly scratched his neatly trimmed 
beard. "That must have cost twenty dollars." 

She was standing before the tall, glass-doored bookcase beside the 
fireplace, intently scanning the ancient, leather-bound tomes. She asked, 
"Where's the book you used?" 

"I don't keep it down here. It's very valuable." 

"You only have one copy?" 

He laughed. "I may have the original. I have a Xerox copy, of course." He 
pointed to a thick, stapled sheaf of copy paper on his desk. "I have a 
feeling about the book. I actually think it's dangerous." 

She nodded quickly. "I do, too! That's why I want to see it ... and talk to 
you about that spell." 

"A Summoning, not a spell, technically speaking." He sat in the comfortable 
old swivel chair behind his desk. "How do you feel? The last I saw of you 
last night your father was carrying you away and you were limp as a rag." 

"Oh, I'm fine ... physically." She blushed and smiled weakly. She wandered 
around the high-ceilinged room. She fingered the heavy green brocade 
draperies. She stared at the ornately framed occult paintings on the dark 
walls. "But my head is in a different place." 

Webster had noticed a subtle, intangible differentness about her. Something 
vaguely false about her ... as if-as if a ninety-year-old woman were 
masquerading as a teenager. Her eyes disturbed him. There seemed to be 
chilling glitter in their depths. A masked glitter. 

He frowned. Imagination. "Miss Kaiser ... that was a very graphic scene that 
happened in the pentagram. It appeared that you were being ... assaulted ... 
by an invisible being." 

She sat on the antique sofa. "I know ... I was! He ... It whispered in my 
mind and did awful things to me ... and raped me." 

Webster almost smiled ... and realized his reaction was perhaps evidence of 
disbelief in the occult and supernatural. He had almost smiled -he had 
dismissed her as a hysterical teenage girl, sexually frustrated, full of 
emotional storms. He asked, "How do you mean-raped you?" 

She flushed and didn't know what to do with her hands. She lowered her eyes. 
"I-I felt him enter me. It hurt terribly. And Daddy had a doctor come by 
earlier this morning and examine me, and he said my hymen had been torn 
open." 

Webster coughed and scowled. "What did this invisible creature say to you? 
We couldn't hear a thing ... on the outside." 

"Dirty things. And about Lucifer and like that." 

Webster nodded. He was still of a mind that her performance, and that of 
Frank Kaiser the night before, had been an elaborate, well-rehearsed hoax. 
Very well done. But yet ... 

He said, "If that Summoning had been performed according to the prescribed 
ritual and instructions-But last night it was a game, a joke. The conditions 
weren't authentic at all. The preparations were a mockery of-" 

"BUT IT HAPPENED! SOME KIND OF MONSTER FROM HELL TOOK POSSESSION OF ME!" She 
collapsed into a sobbing heap against the musty old cushions. 

Webster was shaken. This girl was convincing, yet there still lingered a 
tinge of doubt about her. Was she acting now? "Miss Kaiser ... I don't 
understand what you want of me." He was acutely uncomfortable seeing her 
crying so heartbrokenly. He wondered if he should go to her and comfort her. 
Yet he resisted that-he wasn't at ease with unstable, unconventional young 
women. He wished to keep well clear of Donna Kaiser. He wished he weren't 
alone with her. 

She sat up and took a hanky from a bulging yellow plastic purse. Several 
crumpled twenty dollar bills nearly spilled from the purse. She mastered her 
sobs very quickly. "I c-came to find out if ... if you can recite the-the 
Summoning backward or something and sort of wipe out what happened." 

"No-if it was a successful Summoning of Lucifer, or one of his cohorts, it 
would require an altogether different ritual and incantation to ..." Webster 
licked his fat lips. "You said something took possession of you? In what 
sense?" 

"I don't know. I have weird thoughts and impulses. I find myself doing 
things I don't want to do ... It scares me. It's like having someone else in 
my brain." 

"Miss Kaiser, it's very difficult to believe that you were genuinely in 
contact with the supernatural last night." 

"I'm not lying!" She stood, angry. "Some kind of demon fucked me and-" She 
caught herself. "I want to see that old book! I want to see that spell." 

"It's written in 9th Century Latin on discolored parchment and the ink is 
faded. I can't let you even touch the book. I shouldn't have risked taking 
it to your father's party last night, but he wanted authenticity ... so I 
took it along. I don't like being used like that. I doubt if I'll ever see 
you or him again." Webster pulled the Xerox copy of the book from the litter 
of papers on his desk. "You can look at this copy if you like." He held it 
out. 

"Is that the only copy you have?" 

"Yes. And I can't lend it to you." 

"Does anyone else have a copy?" 

"No, not to my knowledge." 

"How did you get possession of it?" 

"I found it in a copper chest in an ancient cellar vault in Germany ten 
years ago. The vault was part of an 18th Century lodge in Bavaria I 
partially inherited from my mother. I had to fly over to meet the other 
heirs and arrange with them to sell the property. I don't think the vault 
had been opened for a hundred years, and the chest was at least a thousand 
years old. I have the chest in the basement. It's worth about six thousand 
dollars in itself." 

"Do any other scholars know of the book?" 

"No! I wouldn't trust those vultures." 

"You're a fool, Webster." 

He looked sharply at her. The voice that had come from her mouth had been 
harsh, cynical, somehow masculine. Her eyes-A creeping chill shivered his 
back. He swallowed. She smiled icily. She spun and picked up her purse. She 
walked quickly to the open doors. She left the room. 

Webster leaned back in his chair. Then he frowned, cocking his head. She 
hadn't left the house! He heard her footsteps on the stairway landing 
leading to the rooms upstairs. What the hell? He rose and strode angrily 
after her. When he reached the top of the carpeted stairs he saw her emerge 
from the guest room and enter the bathroom. 

She smiled innocently. "The body has to piss." She closed the paneled, 
varnished door. 

Webster snorted. He noticed his bedroom door ajar. She had been in there, 
too. Simply looking for the bathroom? He entered his room and checked it. 
Nothing had been disturbed that he could see. He glanced at the locked 
antique cabinet by the window. The book was there in the bottom inside 
drawer, wrapped in velvet in a foam-lined metal box. He was resolved to keep 
it there, except for rare moments of research where the photo copy would not 
serve. Webster closed the door of his room, listened to rustling in the 
bathroom, then crossed to the head of the stairs. He wasn't happy. That girl 
was acting strangely. Talking like a whore. He wanted her out of his house 
as soon as possible, even if he had to be rude. She was more unstable than 
he had suspected. 

Webster went downstairs to his study. He stood waiting, listening. Finally 
the upstairs toilet flushed. He wasn't sure if he could hear footsteps on 
the stairs or not. He strained to hear. A muted clumping overhead-she was in 
his bedroom! She was after the book! He ran to the stairs and took the steps 
three at a time. His bedroom door was open. He saw her kneeling before the 
cabinet-lovely long blonde hair, yellow dress, tanned calf showing. He 
yelled, "Get away from there! What the hell do you think you're up to?" He 
strode angrily toward her. 

She turned. Her corrupt blue eyes stopped him as he was about to seize her 
arm and yank her away. The submerged glitter was unmasked. Subtle lines and 
muscle tensions altered her soft, girl's face. He stared down into Hell. He 
was frozen, astonished, afraid. 

She said harshly, "The book and the copy must be destroyed." 

He managed to shake his head. "No. Get out of my house." 

"Destroy the book and you may have this body to enjoy however you wish. I'll 
make it do anything." 

Webster's gaze was drawn to her tempting breasts. But her young face was 
changed-and the old, evil eyes ... 

He shook his head again. He asked, "Why do you want the book destroyed?" 

"It gives too much power over us. You, for instance, with practice, could 
command all the dark forces. You could interfere with plans and systems and 
operations begun eons ago. You would upset the structure that is bringing 
Satan his victory." 

"God is dead?" 

"God is dying. We are returning." 

"I don't believe this." 

"A student of the occult and you do not believe. Yes, you are a fool." 

"Maybe, but not fool enough to let you get your insane hands on that book. 
Get out of my house!" 

"In time. After your soul is given over to Them." 

Then he saw the small, deadly automatic in her right hand, her open purse on 
the floor. The muzzle of the gun swung toward him. She twisted on her 
haunches. 

Webster didn't understand. Then he did. He went cold. "Who are you?" 

"He who was summoned." She shot him four times. 

The first .22 slug tore through his brown vest, buried itself in his stomach 
and flattened against his spinal column. The second cracked two ribs and 
lodged in his left lung below and to the left of his thudding heart. He was 
staggering backward, falling, screaming, when the third slug caught him 
under the chin behind his beard and ripped up through his head into the gray 
matter of his right lobe. He fell heavily, unconscious, dying, and the 
fourth, carefully aimed bullet smashed through his chest to his heart. The 
organ went into fibrillation, squirted high pressure blood into rent 
tissues, and then stopped. 

She dropped the gun back into her purse. She tried to open the cabinet and 
couldn't. She calmly stood up, walked around the body and the spreading red 
stain in the blue throw rug across which he had fallen, and left the 
bedroom. She went downstairs to the kitchen and found a meat cleaver and a 
strong steel carving knife. She returned to the bedroom and forced the 
antique cabinet's door. She forced open the drawers until she found the 
metal box that contained the book. She pried open the box, unwrapped the 
priceless book and opened it to a page near the front. She read it and 
laughed. She squatted beside Webster's body. She closed her hellish blue 
eyes and threw her head back. She cried, "Asteroth, Asmodeus, I beg you to 
accept the sacrifice of this man which I now offer to you, so that I may 
receive the things that I ask." 

She used the long knife to cut away the body's clothes. Webster's corpse lay 
twisted, white, still, oozing blood from the ragged, discolored bullet 
holes. The beard was soaked with blood. The eyes stared at the carved left 
foot of the 19th Century bed. 

"I give you a soul, mighty Astaroth. I request powers. I feed this vessel." 
She savagely cut open the belly from sternum to pubes. She hacked into the 
chest cavity and cut free the ruptured heart. She held it with both hands 
and ate it raw, tearing gobbets of red flesh with her bloody teeth. She 
stared fixedly at the book which lay open on the floor beside her. Spatters 
of blood stained its parchment pages. 

When she had finished the heart, she took up the knife and cut free the 
testicles and penis. "I honor thee, majestic Asmodeus. I give you a soul. I 
request powers. I feed my host." She ate the testicles and penis. Blood 
dripped on her frilly yellow dress. She ignored it. When she had swallowed 
the final mouthful, she intoned, "I worship thee, indomitable Lucifage 
Rofocale. I give you a soul. I request powers." 

She pulled handfuls of slippery, ropy white entrails from the gory abdomen. 
She arranged them in an intricate design on the ruined body-a horned cross. 
"I do your bidding. I do your bidding. I do your bidding. I request powers." 
She bowed her head for a moment, then she took a piece of Webster's clothing 
and wiped the cabinet where she had touched and gripped. 

She took up the book and her purse and the knives and went downstairs to the 
study. There was a little-used fireplace in one corner of the room. She took 
manuscripts and papers from the desk. She placed the cleaver and knife in 
the flames, and started a fire. She fed the fire-page by page-with the book 
and with the Xerox copy. She grinned as the fire consumed the ancient 
knowledge. Finally, even the dry leather binding of the book had been eaten 
by the flames. She used an antique brass poker to fragment the ashes even 
farther. She wiped the handle of the poker with her soiled, stained dress. 
She looked down at her dress-at the brown spots-and she shrugged. She found 
her purse and left the old house. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

Frank dreaded entering his home late that afternoon. He had been in a 
turmoil all day. In the safety and familiarity of his office at the 
brickyard the happenings of that morning and the previous night became 
impossible, weird, nightmares, delusions ... He had to keep reminding 
himself that it had all happened. He had to relive the bizarre, loathsome, 
incestuous acts he had engaged in. He tried to concentrate on business and 
tried to decide what was real and what was fantasy. He wondered, for one 
moment, if perhaps it was he who was insane, suffering from awful 
hallucinations. 

Was Donna possessed? Was she inhabited by a demon from Hell? He wanted to 
believe it! Jesus God, if only her lewd talk and degraded behavior were the 
result of an inhuman monster roosting in her mind. But if that were true-The 
implications were awesome. Reality-the precious reality of science and 
rationalism-was a sham, a skim on the surface of supernatural void. Mankind 
became a plaything, Earth became an arena. Two vast entities-God and 
Satan-played a million-year game for mastery. 

It couldn't be! Donna was mad. She had to be. She had sunk into a 
complicated paranoid schizophrenic system of delusions. God knew what 
powerful psychic forces were at work in her mind. Ellen's death must have 
triggered. But he kept hearing that altered voice, seeing the eerie shift of 
personality. And the horrible change in her face as that other took over. 

Frank had stewed all day. He had come so close to calling a psychiatrist ... 
even to calling the police, though that would have been idiotic. 

That butcher knife. She-or it-had scared hell out of him with that knife. He 
had believed her. She would have mutilated herself-and him, too!-had he not 
obeyed. Whatever the truth, possession or madness, that threat had been 
real. 

He stood on the gravel path leading to his porch and hesitated. His attach 
case was heavy. What was waiting inside? The setting sun reddened the 
surface of the ocean beyond the house. The surf thundered on the rocks 
below. There were no lights on in the house. His leg was bothering him 
again. It made his limp more pronounced as he walked forward and unlocked 
the front door. He shut the door and called apprehensively, "Donna?" His 
deep, penetrating baritone voice was loud in the silence. 

No answer. He switched on a light in the sunken living room and limped into 
his den. He put his attach case on the modern walnut desk and went back 
across the living room toward the long hall that led to Donna's room. As he 
passed the basement door he noticed it stood ajar. He opened it further and 
looked down the angled stairway. The basement lights were on. He called, 
"Donna?" 

She answered, "Come down here, Frank." It was the "new" Donna's hard voice. 

His stomach sank. He awkwardly lurched down the steps. She was standing in 
the party room, stark naked, with a sketch pad in her left hand, a red 
Crayola in her right hand. She was staring at the long bar that filled one 
end of the low-ceilinged, paneled room. His daughter's physical beauty made 
Frank's throat tighten and his belly muscles tense. She caught his 
expression and grinned. "You liked what we did this morning, Mr. Kaiser? 
Doesn't it bother you that I'm a male demon in your daughter's body? Doesn't 
that make you some kind of double pervert?" 

She laughed harshly. "Don't worry, you'll get an encore tonight. I have 
plans. I enjoy sex. I dip into her shame and horror, and yours ... oh, it's 
delicious. That part is as good as the actual physical pleasure." 

She stroked her right palm over her full, pointed breasts. She used the red 
Crayola to draw an uneven circle around the pink nipples. "Target, Frank." 

He sat in a bamboo-frame chair. His mind was swirling with shameful desire 
for her and with a gritty remorse. He waited for her to tell him what the 
sketch pad signified. She had made a drawing. He couldn't see enough to make 
sense of it. 

Donna made a few more Crayola lines on the pad. "You will have built-or 
build it yourself, I don't care-an altar like the one I'm drawing. Put it 
where the bar is." She looked around. "I want this cold tiled floor covered 
with thick, deep red carpeting. The ceiling painted black. And this south 
seas furniture- get rid of it. Cover the walls with black velvet. And I want 
thick sponge rubber pads four or five feet wide along this wall. And have 
them covered with crimson velvet." 

Frank raised his head as the instructions continued. "What-?" 

"Find some candleholders-old ones-and some old cabinets and have them 
enameled-black. You'll have one week to do these things or cause them to be 
done." 

She finished the drawing and handed it to him. "This room will be our place 
of worship. Here the Horned One will be adored. Here we will perform the 
Black Mass. Here the coven meets." 

Frank was caught by her fierce blue gaze. The power in her eyes seemed to 
hit like a sledgehammer. Her force of will was stronger now. She seemed to 
blaze from within. He could not resist in her presence. He felt hypnotized. 

She shifted her gaze to the party room again. "Red leather for the altar 
top. Real leather! And black velvet draping for the altar. Yes, the Old Ones 
will be well served here. They will approve. I will be given greater powers. 
This body is young and well formed. It is a tool I will use skillfully." 

Frank sat stunned. He looked down at the drawing. It was astonishingly well 
done-the work of a talented professional. Yet Donna had never exhibited any 
talent for drawing. She had always echoed Ellen in saying she couldn't draw 
a straight line. 

The pictured altar was even provided with dimensions and some technical 
specifications such as would have been provided by an architect or 
draftsman. Frank's skin goose bumped and he shivered. He began to breathe 
shallowly as fear sickened him. Donna suddenly was standing before him, 
facing him, close, her tan and pink and white nakedness ... her slender, 
nubile, lush beauty overwhelming. He raised agonized eyes to her smiling 
face. "Put those shaking hands on these breasts, Frank." 

He was a prisoner of her will. He put the sketch on the gray and blue tiled 
floor, leaned forward in the creaky bamboo chair and placed his trembling, 
sweaty hands on his daughter's magnificent breasts. The pale, taut, rounded 
flesh was very warm. The violently pink, erected nipples protruded against 
his sensitive palms. 

"Play with them, Daddy." She grinned lewdly down at him. "But gently. Don't 
bruise the fruit. The body has to be perfect to attract other worshippers to 
the Master." 

Frank fondled his daughter's jutting breasts. He caressed. His breathing 
became even more shallow and fast. 

Imperceptibly, in the heated, sibilant moment that followed, her back arched 
and thrust her breasts closer to him. She whispered roughly, "You will obey 
me in all things. You will be my acolyte. You will serve without question." 

Her eyelids drooped, her head tilted back and her mouth was drawn open as 
she stared at the ceiling. Her breath surged. Her breasts moved against his 
clinging, stroking fingers. She whispered unevenly, "The body loves this." 
She continued, "My acolyte, my slave, my body's father ... you will be 
rewarded for your service. Richly rewarded. There will be great wealth. 
There will be immortality!" 

She clutched his head. She pulled his face to the soft, deep gorge between 
her breasts. "You must be loyal and true to me and to Lucifer. I have powers 
now and I will have more!" 

She dug fingers into his thick, brown, graying hair. Her nails cut into his 
scalp as she warned, "If you resist me-if you disobey-if you scheme against 
me and against our ultimate master, Lucifer-you will suffer the unbearable 
agonies of the Utterly Damned. You will see your daughter ravished in 
unspeakable ways, her body torn, her soul shattered and consumed by Furies. 
And more ... and more." 

Her terrible gaze swept down and transfixed him. In that awful moment he was 
convinced his daughter was in the fiendish grip of a demon. He knew pure 
Evil existed, and that Lucifer lived-a horror from another plane of 
existence. The fabric between the universes could be penetrated ... portals 
could be opened. 

Her hands came to his loins, kneading him. She commanded, "Be naked, Frank. 
We will consecrate this room now. It will echo with the passionate screams 
of your daughter-and your groans of ecstasy-as you fuck her! Father and 
daughter in unholy incestuous union. The walls and floor and ceiling will 
absorb the sounds and will be tainted by your agony of spirit and by hers." 

Frank nodded. She didn't need a knife. Her will, her eyes-he was unable to 
resist. He believed. It was so real ... vast wealth ... immortality. Frank 
came to know what it must be like for Donna-to be powerless to control her 
body, to be a horrified, shrunken self huddling, cowering in the brain, an 
observer, a viewer through cavern windows, a puppet whose body was operated 
by another. He experienced that in minor degree. Part of him wanted to run, 
part of him feared and lusted for her body. The lust and the fear were 
master. And he admitted greed ... and a hunger to live forever. Any 
sacrifice, any crime, would be worth immortality. 

He stripped off his clothes as she stood, hands on naked hips, watching. 
When he stepped out of his briefs, he was ashamed of his massive erection. 
Frank stood and he shook. 

She gestured to the bamboo furniture. "Throw all those cushions and pillows 
on the floor-on the rug." 

There was a large, oval braided rug, nine by twelve, covering most of the 
cool, tiled floor. He obeyed. 

"Lie down, Daddy." 

He went to his knees on the edge of the pile. 

"On your back, slave. You'd like to be the active one, wouldn't you? You 
want to be on top." She knelt and skillfully handled his erection. "Look at 
this monster, Frank. All this in your daughter's virgin cunt. Shall I let 
her come up and tell you what she's thinking? Shall I?" 

He licked his lips. "No. Don't. It's too ..." 

"Too much for your conscience?" She smirked. "You'll have to kill that 
conscience of yours. Bury it. Everything you've seen taught is good and 
right and virtuous is wrong. Based on lies. Evil is good. Good is evil. It 
is time to admit the seven deadly sins rule men and women, not idealistic 
illusions and self-deceptions. Your God has always held the losing hand. His 
bluff is being called." 

She had him at full erection. She chuckled and bent over. She filled her 
mouth. She sucked. Her long blonde hair sifted down to form a silken, 
shimmering veil before her lovely young face as her head bobbed. 

Frank waited in a dread anxiety for the fiend in her mind to let Donna's 
true self emerge for a few seconds. He cringed from that scene. He selfishly 
wished it wouldn't happen. The suspense was torture. What could he say to 
her? A gut-seething glow of pleasure was building in him. The demon was 
using Donna's mouth and tongue and throat with unholy skill. 

She stopped sucking. She tossed her hair back. "Now I get this body hot." 
She straddled his chest. She inched forward, peering down, eyes glowing, 
moist lips quirking. 

Frank liked the weight of her and the rounded walls of her silky thighs like 
a vise enclosing his head. Her vulva-a pink-lipped slit surrounded by a pale 
blonde fuzz-almost was pressing against his mouth. He couldn't resist 
putting his hands on her velvety, rounded buttocks. He pulled her that last 
inch closer and kissed. He probed with his tongue. He felt her muscles 
tighten. His penis throbbed, unattended, rock hard, jerking in the air with 
his heavy pulse. 

"Ohhh ... you have a fiend's tongue, Daddy. This is your best talent." She 
undulated her humid crotch against his face. 

Frank began to lose himself in the act. His tongue snaked and slithered in 
her vulva. His eyes were closed. The cushions and pillows on which he lay 
cupped and cradled him. He was almost able to forget who he was loving. He 
could almost forget everything but the acidly tang of the girl, her soft 
groans and gradual approach to orgasm. 

Her thighs tightened on his head. The large muscles in her buttocks flexed 
as she rocked against his mouth. Then she stopped and shifted back, away 
from him. Looking up, he saw she was glaze-eyed with passion, her 
full-lipped mouth was parted. She was breathing fast. But when she spoke-the 
demon's persona controlled her voice and showed in her face. "Now, Frank ... 
now you both get your secret wish." She cackled with amusement, her words a 
ghastly reminder of alienness and evil. She slid down his body. Her crotch 
left a sticky trail. She lifted up over his pulsing, iron-like erection. She 
reached under and held him. She captured his eyes as a hawk captures a 
sparrow. She feasted on his helpless lust and shame as she lowered herself. 

He clamped his jaw tight as he felt the penetration. Hot-tight-like a fist 
of jelly, like liquid velvet, like nothing in the world! His belly sucked in 
and locked. He gasped-as she gasped. He could not escape the blue diamond's 
that were her eyes ... the demon's eyes, as it fed. 

Her feral smile broadened into a leer of triumph and mastery. "She's 
screaming inside, Frank. She can't face it. She won't admit how many times 
she's wanted this to happen." 

Frank fought to look away. The changed, possessed face of his daughter held 
him. He felt the inexorable engulfment continue. Her weight pressed down 
until he was buried in her, until her vagina spasmed from the engorgement. 

Then, from her grinning, unmoving mouth, from her throat, came a tiny, 
shrill, human girl's voice ... distorted, weak, but Donna's voice! "Please 
stop it, don't let it go on, oh please, Daddy, stop it, make it stop, I 
can't stand it, I hate it, I hate it, I want out, I want free, I want to 
die, I want to die." The frail voice faded away. The grin continued. The 
demon controlling Donna's naked body began rising and falling on Frank's 
shrinking penis. 

Frank was shaking with horror. He was panting, his mouth dust-dry, eyes so 
wide his vision was blurred. He threw an arm across his eyes and wept. 
"God-no more! Leave me alone!" 

She laughed derisively. "You're so gutless, Frank. You're hardly worth 
using. You're only convenient at the moment." 

"Enslave someone else ... use someone else." 

"In time." She sat on his limp genitals. She mockingly rubbed herself on 
them. "And it amuses me to see you so broken and sad because I'm using this 
body and giving you the opportunities you've dreamed of. As a fellow male, 
Frank, I'm surprised at your lack of enthusiasm. Do I have to force you to 
do everything?" 

"Yes!" 

"Then you're a fool!" She glared. "Lose those idiotic morals of yours, or 
you'll end up like-like all stupid mortals who oppose the Old Ones." 

"Get out of Donna. Leave us alone." 

"I was Summoned. I cannot leave. I will not. I must not. You're indulging in 
wish. You are to serve me in any way I say. You are convenient to me and you 
are necessary to me at the moment." 

"I will say this once more ... and never after: Put aside all the social 
rules and religious thou-shalt-nots you have learned. They are feeble 
delusions, a net of lies over the true nature of mankind." 

"Serve me willingly, with zeal, with intelligence, without remorse or 
scruple, and you will be richly rewarded on this Earth, and you will be made 
immortal on the instant of Lucifer's final victory." 

Frank listened. But in his mind he also heard Donna's despairing cry, I want 
to die ... I want to die. 

The party room extension phone buzzed. It was on the left end of the bar. 
She turned her head and looked at the phone as it buzzed again. She closed 
her violent blue eyes for a long second, as if communicating, somehow, then 
said, "Answer it." She slid off Frank and lay spread-legged on the cushions. 
"Tell her to come over." 

Frank struggled to his feet and limped to the bar. He lifted the receiver. 
"Hello?" 

"Hi, pooky. How's your little girl? Are we still 'on' tonight for din-din?" 

It was Holly, his girl friend. A tall, loose-jointed, red-haired, slender 
girl in her mid-twenties. 

"Hi, honey." He swallowed a tightness in his throat. He turned and looked at 
the naked, sprawled abandon of his daughter. "Donna ... I had a doctor look 
at her this morning. She's ... fine now. Hey, I hope we didn't spook you too 
much last night." 

"Frank, you spooked everybody. Or-she did! That performance was very 
realistic. That Webster freak and his witchcraft number. Wow. I had goose 
bumps on top of goose bumps." 

"Well, she ... I guess she wants to be an actress." 

"She'll make it big. How did she manage that illusion of no-sound? I mean, 
it was so real, like there was a barrier that stopped us from hearing her." 

"I don't know. I guess she practiced it in front of a mirror," he 
speculated. 

"And the way site used her body ... no modesty there! You'd better watch 
that girl, Pooky -she'll be into stag films when word gets around." 

"I don't think she-" 

"I have to admit she's built! I never realized your little daughter was so 
well-developed! Makes me green in the bust department." 

"Holly, you have nothing to be ashamed of." 

"Right, damn it, I have nothing, and I'm ashamed." 

He laughed. "Come over and we'll have something to eat here." He looked 
again at Donna and she was smiling, nodding approval. He experienced a 
shiver of happiness at having pleased her. He said to Holly, "You're only 
fishing for compliments." 

"Right! And when a girl has to fish for them she's in trouble." 

"Honey, your breasts are like cherry-tipped mangos. They-" 

"Thank you, pook, but we both know my titties are like fried eggs. When will 
the food be on the plates?" 

"You mean you expect me to cook?" 

"God, yes! You're a good cook." 

"In that case-about seven-thirty." 

"I'll be hungry as a bear. 'Bye." 

"Later." He put the down the phone. He was astonished at himself. The 
conversation had been about normal. He had carried it off while standing 
naked a few feet from where his fifteen-year-old daughter lay naked, just 
after they had been- 

Donna said, "Very good, Frank. See how easy it is to lie convincingly? But 
you're a successful businessman; you already know how to do it." 

He sat on one of the cushioned bamboo bar stools. "Why do you want her here 
tonight?" 

"Holly will be my first convert, after you, of, course. The coven will be 
three, after tonight. Tomorrow I will recruit more. Special members. I'll 
need your help in that." She smiled and sighed. She got up from the cushions 
and pillows. She picked up the sketch pad and Crayola. She flipped the altar 
drawing and began printing a list. "Get dressed. I need some things. I'll 
need them tonight." 

Frank obediently went to gather his clothes. "What are you going to do to 
her?" 

"Oh ... a kind of free-style initiation. I will require your services, 
acolyte." She finished the list, ripped off the sheet and handed it to him. 

Frank read the list. His eyes widened. "Some of these things ... " 

"Better hurry, Frank. You haven't much time." She went, naked, up the 
stairs. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Holly Barnes liked to hip-flip when she walked in private or with a very 
good friend when no one else could see her. It was an exaggeration, a 
caricature of a prostitute's walk. Holly thunked shut the door of her green 
Vega and, swinging her red purse in circles, hip-flipped shamelessly as she 
went up the dark, curving walk to Frank's house. She didn't notice that his 
Mercedes was gone. 

She wore an expensive pair of tapestry hip-huggers over her bony pelvis and 
long, lean thighs. Her blouse was flaming red silk. She never wore a bra. 
Her small "fried egg" breasts jiggled as she walked. Holly had naturally 
carrot-red hair, but she kept it cut short and wore one of a dozen wigs, as 
the mood, occasion or her outfit demanded. This night she wore a dark red 
African natural because she felt freaky, and because she would be alone with 
Frank. 

She walked up to the big lime oak door. It was unlocked and the metal 
lantern porch light was on as she had expected it to be for her, and she 
entered. Holly traipsed toward the kitchen. "Hey, pooky, your red-haired 
African girl is heah." She pushed open the swinging kitchen door to 
semi-darkness. The kitchen was empty. 

One of the stove's oven lights was on. She raised her voice. "Hi, lover, 
where's my food?" 

She heard a soft, muffled, piteous mew. She switched on the overhead sink 
lights. "Tribble?" She opened a cupboard door under the left drain board and 
the little kitten emerged from between large salad bowls. Holly picked him 
up. "Ohhh, hey, how'd you get locked in there, hmmm? Get curious and 
somebody didn't see you go exploring?" She petted him and nuzzled him. He 
began to purr and lick her cheek. Holly walked toward the refrigerator. 
"Want some milk?" She looked at the small milk and food dishes beside the 
stove. The dishes were empty. "We'd better feed you, baby." She found a 
covered can of cat food and milk in the refrigerator. She fed him. The 
kitten ate ravenously. 

Holly crossed to the stove and pulled open the upper oven. Frozen something 
was heating in its aluminum tray and cover. She shut the oven. Turned toward 
the hall door-She jerked and gasped when she saw Donna standing in the 
doorway, naked, holding the door open. Light from the hallway silhouetted 
the girl's slim yet opulent body and created a soft halo effect in her 
blonde hair. Holly clapped her hand to her chest. "Jesus, you scared me, 
Donna." 

"I've been waiting for you." 

"Oh? Where's Frank?" 

"He's still out shopping." 

"That bastard! I'm hungry as hell." Holly felt oddly ill at ease in the 
situation. Why was Donna naked? Why did the girl stare so? Holly shivered. 
She didn't know what to do or say. 

Donna stepped slightly to one side, allowing an exit through the door. 
"Let's talk in my room." It was more than a suggestion. 

Holly frowned briefly, then yielded. She too often yielded to people. She 
had that tendency and she knew it. She tried to resist, to assert herself as 
much as possible, but ... it just seemed that in the crunch she gave in and 
let others tell her what to do. And what was worse, a little flame of 
happiness burned in her when she met a strong person who was willing to take 
her and make her do things. Now a tremor of joy shivered through her as she 
recognized in Donna a new power of mind. Holly knew; her body/mind 
recognized a master in an instant -a host of tiny, subtle signals passed 
between them, and she had a dreadful feeling of happiness. Holly murmured, 
"All right. I guess there's nothing else to do." 

She passed Donna and was envious of the young girl's fully developed body. 
It was all genes and good nutrition, she knew, but that didn't help her own 
flatties. Still, the men she had been intimate with praised her for her 
large nipples and capacity between the legs. She was built big inside. That 
was partly why Frank liked her so much, she knew. Frank was a strong-willed 
man, too, but gentle and fair. 

Holly felt self-conscious as she walked down the hall and into Donna's room, 
with Donna following her. Donna's room was dark, and Holly went forward 
cautiously. She sat on a slipper chair by the bed and watched the strange 
girl switch on a small bedside lamp. Holly smiled mechanically. "How long 
has he been gone?" 

Donna came around the bed and stood before Holly, legs boldly apart, hands 
on hips. She stared down at the almost gaunt older girl. She grinned. "I got 
a flash of you last night. Just a hint of your lack of character. You're a 
vacuum hungry to be filled. A slave waiting for the right master." 

Holly experienced a flutter of fear. "What?" She couldn't bear to meet 
Donna's intense blue gaze. And the girl's lush nakedness, so near, was an 
aggression. Holly clasped her hands tightly together, and kept her elbows 
tight against her waist. She unconsciously huddled in the small chair. 

"I am your master now! You will obey me in all things. You will serve me 
without question. Yes, you will. And you'll love it." Donna reached out and 
lifted Holly's chin. She captured Holly's wide green eyes. 

Holly's eyes dilated. She didn't understand what was happening. Donna had 
been an ordinary, neurotic, moody, withdrawn teen-ager before last 
night-before that awful, ugly occult ritual or whatever it had been-and now 
the girl was CHANGED! DIFFERENT! TERRIFICALLY STRONG! Holly couldn't break 
the hold of Donna's eyes. 

"I am a demon, Holly. Frank is helping me start a coven. You will be a 
member of the coven. When he returns we will eat and then we will initiate 
you. All your weak inhibitions and moral restraints will be melted from your 
mind. You will end as Lucifer's loyal slave, eager to do our bidding." 

Holly was breathing raggedly. Her mind reeled. Demon? Her mind skittered. 
Demon? Joke? No. The force that held her, the power within this girl was 
appalling. There was an aura that blazed from Donna. Frank, too? Was Frank 
captured by this utterly transformed child? This ... monster? 

Donna's eyes ... dancing far back in those hellish, overpowering blue eyes 
was a capering essence of pure evil, sickeningly malevolent. Holly shuddered 
involuntarily. She was suddenly cold. But she was attracted. She felt a 
growing desire to give herself up entirely. She whispered, "Is Frank your 
slave, too?" 

"Yes! He is my right hand, my acolyte. You will obey him as you obey me. But 
you will obey ME above all." 

Holly couldn't resist. Donna and Frank were her masters. They could do 
anything with her they wished. And they would take care of her. They would 
let her stay in this house and let her clean and serve. She was so tired of 
being out on her own, alone so much. She wanted to be kept ... to be a child 
without responsibilities, even responsibilities for herself, to trade 
obedience and service for total freedom from freedom. 

Donna ordered Holly: "STAND up." 

Holly groaned with fear and submission. She got to her feet. She swayed. She 
was only inches from Donna's aggressive pink and white and tan nakedness. 
Holly was physically three inches taller than Donna, but skinny in 
comparison. She was permitted to drop her eyes. She stared down at the full, 
pointed perfection of Donna's breasts and saw that the pink, button nipples 
touched the red silk of her blouse with each quick surge of breath. 

Donna said, "I'll amuse myself for a moment. I'm curious." She reached up 
and put a hand behind Holly's long, slender neck. Holly trembled. She felt 
the hand pulling her closer, drawing her head down ... to meet Donna's 
lifted, parted, glistening lips. Donna kissed Holly. Holly began to shake. 
She felt confused and aroused. Donna kissed like a man, somehow? Yet 
sensually, erotically, as no man could kiss. Donna's other arm went around 
Holly's waist and drew her tight. Holly moaned in the kiss and yielded; her 
mouth softened and opened. Her troubled green eyes closed. A strange heat 
blossomed in her belly. Her nipples surged to fingerlets of aching, itching 
need. Donna's serpent-like tongue entered Holly's mouth. Holly squirmed in 
Donna's embrace. Her nostrils flared and her knees went weak. Donna broke 
the passionate kiss abruptly and moved back half a step. "Yes, you are mine. 
I knew it would be easy." 

Holly stood, panting lightly, waiting, head down, submissive, wanting more. 
She felt cut loose from her past. She was dazed by her behavior, by her 
reactions. Donna reached up and casually began unbuttoning Holly's red silk 
blouse. Holly could not stop trembling. Her body seemed apart from her. Her 
eyes watched Donna's fingers undo button after button. Now the front of her 
blouse was open to her waist. Now Donna's curious hands-soft, yet boldly 
masculine in seeking-invaded the blouse and found her shallow, big-nippled 
breasts. 

Donna grinned. "Oh, I like this type. Good. I want to see." She pulled the 
blouse wide open to expose Holly's chest. 

Holly watched Donna's fingers pinch and tweak her purplish, thimble-sized 
nipples. Shivers of sensation-pain and pleasure-filled her small breasts. 

Donna asked, "You like this, don't you?" 

"Yes," Holly answered faintly. 

Donna's hands dropped away. She commanded, "Strip." 

Holly fumbled at the snap and zipper at the side of her toreadors. She 
stepped out of them, and out of her red silk panties, shrugged off her 
blouse, and stood, naked, as Donna inspected her. 

"You need twenty pounds with exercise. I don't like that gap between your 
skinny thighs. Tonight when you go home after I'm through with you, shave 
this red bush off and keep it shaved off. I want you smooth as a baby there 
all the time. Now, let's see what kind of clitoris you've got. Sit on the 
bed. Open up-use your fingers!" 

Donna's peremptory commands were hammer blows to Holly. She obeyed. She sat 
on the bed, opened her legs wide and drew up her knees. She pulled apart the 
lips of her vulva. Donna knelt and looked closely at the gaping, glistening 
pink slit. Holly's clitoris was even larger than her nipples-it projected 
from the upper, inner folds of her labia, a tiny penis nearly an inch long. 

"You love to have that sucked, don't, you Holly? DON'T YOU?" 

"Yes." She whispered breathlessly. 

"Does Frank suck it?" 

"Yes." 

"He's good at it, isn't he?" 

"Yes." Holly quivered as Donna touched the small, supersensitive organ. 
Holly needed time to adjust to her new role, to absorb what she had been 
told, to come to terms with her new position and her powerful young 
mistress. But she wasn't given time. Donna played with her. A finger flipped 
her flaming clitoris until the organ was vibrant and stiff, swollen about 
twenty percent-the limit of its capacity to expand. Each touch was an 
electric jolt of erotic pleasure. Holly's left cheek twitched. Her eyes 
fluttered shut. She began to breathe faster. 

Donna chuckled lewdly. "You're a slave to pleasure, too. Good. Those who 
take well usually give well." Donna slid her finger into Holly's wet vaginal 
tunnel. Deep into the sticky warmth. "Does Frank shove all his prick into 
you, Holly?" 

"Yes." Holly felt two fingers enter her body, then three ... probing, 
seeking ... it felt good. It was humiliating, demeaning ... and she liked 
it. A slave can have no pride. Holly sucked air as Donna curled her thumb 
under her palm and pushed her whole hand into Holly's elastic, deep vagina. 
Holly felt stretched to her limit, terribly vulnerable, as she experienced 
the fingers tickling her cervix, the fingers moving in her body so deeply. 
It was a strange sensation. She lifted her head and looked and saw Donna's 
hand sliding in and out, going in to the wrist. Holly fell back, chest 
heaving, nipples sticking out like purple fingers. 

Donna withdrew her hand. It was slippery wet. Holly's glands were secreting 
heavily. "You'll be fun to initiate when Frank gets back. He's buying things 
for me to use." 

Holly lay waiting for orders. She continued to hold open her vulva. Her 
fingers were slippery and it was difficult. She knew she was turned on and 
was not ashamed. She had never been ashamed of her body or its processes. 
She lay amazed at the swiftness of her yielding, yet she was content. She 
knew Donna was a power, a masterful, supremely dominant personality. Holly 
was prepared to accept witchcraft, demonology, the occult, the supernatural, 
worship of the devil ... she was a part of something overpowering. She was 
being given a direction, a mission, a way of life. She was content. 

Donna stood up and, hands on hips again, smiled down on Holly. "Get down on 
your knees and lick my feet." 

Holly was grateful to change positions. She slipped off the bed and knelt 
and discovered in herself a kind of exaltation as she lowered her head and 
licked Donna's toes first, then sides of her feet, the arch ... Holly's 
loins tingled. Her clitoris throbbed. She didn't understand herself, not at 
all. But she didn't care. 

Donna watched, amused. "That's enough." Donna sat on the edge of the bed and 
opened her thighs. "Eat this cunt until I tell you to stop." 

Holly had had lesbian experience. She wasn't shocked. She had spent three 
months with a dominating bull-dyke who had used her to satisfy another 
femme, an insatiable, stunningly beautiful platinum-blonde model. Holly had 
spent literally hours each day licking that ever-hungry vertical mouth. The 
dyke had spent thousands buying the model gifts, paying for a luxurious 
apartment. In the end the model had walked out to go with an important 
director on an assignment in Spain, The dyke had whipped Holly and abandoned 
her, blaming her for the model's leaving. A few months later, out of a job, 
Holly had met Frank and been taken over by him. She had been an ever more 
frequent visitor to the house. Frank had bought her the Vega. 

Now Holly willingly crept between Donna's slim, yet rounded thighs. She 
butterfly-kissed the fringe of blonde down, the creases where thigh met 
crotch, the waiting, musky mouth. Holly was an artist. Gentle strokings of 
tongue. She was rewarded a few moments later as Donna's body slowly 
tightened and then released in a series of gasping spasms. Holly didn't 
stop. She wanted to prove how well she could satisfy this way. She wanted to 
please her new mistress. 

They heard the characteristic motor sound of Frank's diesel Mercedes as he 
drove up to the garage. Donna did not give the word to stop. Holly continued 
to lick sensuously, artistically, into the honeyed slit. She felt a growing 
orgasmic tension in Donna's body. Donna began to moan and whisper, "Lick! 
Oh, yes, lick, you sweet-tongue cunt-eater." 

Holly knew what was going to happen. She shivered as she knelt in worship of 
Donna's flushed center. She heard the solid thunk of the Mercedes' door, 
heard Frank's off-gaited steps on the cement walk to the front door, heard 
him enter and call, "Holly? Donna?" He knew she was here-he had seen her 
car. 

Holly knew he would find them. Donna wanted that. Holly moaned into the warm 
wetness and fluttered her tongue even more adroitly. She heard his limping 
steps in the hallway. The bedroom door was wide open. The light was on. 
Holly shivered and groveled and tightened her embrace of Donna's satiny 
thighs. She heard Frank stop. Then his despairing, "Oh, God-" And Donna's 
full-throated laughter shook her body and the bed. Holly's back was to 
Frank. She felt more naked and more abject than ever before. She wanted to 
suck his big penis, take him deep into her belly, feel his crushing weight 
on her. 

Donna's voice was strong, triumphant: "Your woman is mine now! She's my 
slave. See how she obeys?" And then Donna panted into a wracking climax, 
laughing and moaning, thrashing, clutching Holly's head-pulling off Holly's 
red afro wig-gasping and choking with glee and lust, throwing the wig at 
Frank. When the powerful sensations had passed, Donna said huskily, "Stop!" 

Holly settled back on her heels. She was afraid to look around at Frank. She 
wiped her face with an edge of the bedspread. She watched Donna raise up on 
elbows and ask, "Did you get everything?" 

Frank answered, "Yes." 

"Put the implements and things for the ritual down in the coven room and 
then get dinner ready. This body is hungry. It'll need energy." 

Donna kicked Holly in the shoulder. "Help him!" 

Holly got to her feet and reluctantly faced Frank. She whispered, "I 
couldn't help myself ... " 

He grimaced. "I know." He put his arm around her narrow waist. "Come on." 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

In the kitchen, Frank went to the oven and checked the timer. "The beef 
stroganoff is ready. I suppose a salad and some cottage cheese ... " 

Holly hung back. She felt uncomfortable naked in the kitchen ... with him 
fully dressed. "Is there an apron I could wear?" 

Frank took her into his arms. "I'm sorry, Holly. I wish I could have 
prevented this. But she's so overpowering ... hypnotizing." 

"Is she really a demon now?" 

"Jesus, I don't know. When I'm in her presence I'm sure she's been taken 
over by something from another world. I believe. It's impossible not to. 
She-or it-radiates so much psychic force-But when I'm away, out of the house 
or in another room, then I wonder and I start to think ..." 

"I really couldn't help myself, pooky." Holly clutched and pressed against 
him for reassurance and strength ... "And I wanted to be her slave. 
Something in me just loved it." 

"Yes. She burns us down to the core-the naked core." He kissed her. He found 
her mouth hot and loose. He had to pull away. "I'll get you one of my shirts 
to wear. You start making the salad." 

Ten minutes later, Frank went to Donna's room. The door was still open. He 
saw her, still naked, standing rigid next to the bed, sweat running down her 
body. She was breathing deep and fast. Her eyes were shut tight, her face a 
mask of brutal concentration. Frank noticed the slipper chair behind her-it 
was moving, rocking, as if tugged by wires. But there were no wires! Frank 
made an involuntary grunt of surprise and incredulity. 

The chair settled down. Donna opened her eyes. They blazed! She crowed, "You 
saw! My powers are coming!" 

He said hesitantly, "Telekinesis-" 

"You have your stupid pseudo-scientific labels. The Old Ones are giving me 
powers. More and more. I am their instrument on this plane. My mission is 
clear. My ... " 

Donna swayed and sat abruptly on the bed. She slumped. "This body weakens so 
easily, so quickly. But it will serve. Is the food ready?" 

"Yes, that's what I came to tell you." 

"I do not like the feel of this sweat on the body. Go to the dining room and 
wait." 

Frank and Holly were sitting at the table, waiting, the food in place, when 
Donna came imperiously into the room. She had showered and her blonde hair 
was damp and clotted from a shampooing. She wore a cotton robe. She said to 
Frank, "Turn the heat up. I don't want this bag of flesh and bones to get 
sick." 

When he left the room to turn up the thermostat, she said to Holly, "Do you 
swallow when Frank shoots off in your mouth?" 

Holly kept her eyes on her plate. "Yes." 

"Good. I'm looking forward to seeing that. I always have been a voyeur. One 
of my original sins. A minor one, actually. I was executed and sent to Hell 
for cannibalism during the siege of Syracuse in 212 B.C. Those Roman 
bastards!" 

Holly's eyes widened. 

Frank returned. "I set it for seventy-five." They could hear the muffled 
hiss of the gas furnace. 

Donna said to Holly, "Serve me!" 

Holly jumped up. She wore a pink, diamond patterned polyester knit 
short-sleeved dress shirt of Frank's. It reached barely below her crotch. 
She spooned a serving of stroganoff onto Donna's plate. 

"More!" Donna impishly ran her hand up under the shirt tails and caressed 
Holly's naked rump. Her fingers trailed into the crevice. 

Holly's hands shook. She put more food on the plate, and added a large 
helping of salad and peas. 

Frank poured a glass of milk. He saw the fondling and was repelled, but then 
realized it was consistent-if Donna was possessed by a demon. IF! IF! She 
had made that chair move by force of will. Yet a deeply disturbed teen-age 
girl might be able to do that. The talents discovered and forced into use by 
the deranged human mind under pressure ... who knew what was possible and 
what impossible? What powers? 

Suddenly he was jolted by the stab of her blue eyes into his mind. He was 
transfixed, poised with the milk carton tilted. She said warningly, "Do not 
doubt me! I will suck the jelly from your bones." 

He was released, and he put down the carton, shaken. He took the coffee pot 
from the warmer and poured himself and Holly each a cup. He observed his 
trembling hand. He knew he had to finally decide very soon-oppose, seek 
help, for an insane girl or join without reservation in the plans of a demon 
from Hell. It was ... ridiculous ... but real! 

Donna ate ravenously. As she ate and drank, she talked. "I want to recruit 
about five coven members in the next week. Frank-I want to meet someone of 
great wealth and position. An older man, greedy, secretly depraved. 
You-Holly-think of people you know or have known who fit. I want people with 
money and connections and twists in their souls. They're the easiest. My 
inner core ... my first, primal coven must be powerful, a base." 

She drained her glass and signaled for it to be refilled. He did so. But he 
was silent. She glared at him. "Well? Who do you suggest we visit tomorrow?" 

"I really don't know anyone interested in the occult." 

"You had a roomful last night." 

"That wasn't-that was a party, a game, they thought. I don't move in cult 
circles." 

"Who do you know who is wealthy? Extremely wealthy?" 

"I'm not in that league." 

"ANSWER ME!" The bowl of stroganoff flew from the dining room table and 
smashed against the wall. Holly jumped and gasped. Her eyes were saucers. 

Frank gripped the edge of the table. He was impaled by Donna's blazing gaze. 
Sweat popped out on his forehead. He groaned and said, "Jonathan Dean ... 
maybe. He's a kind of rich maverick. I met him at a luncheon." 

"Describe him physically." 

"Five-nine or so ... heavy shoulders, a paunch ... he's about fifty-six 
years old, graying ... collects classic pornography and doesn't care who 
knows it." 

Donna's eyes were shut. "Money?" 

"He owns a big chunk of Macro Structures. They build dams, buildings, 
bridges. All over the world. And he's got investments in land, oil, 
computers." 

"I want him!" 

"How do you go about getting him?" 

She smiled. "I want you to introduce me to him. That's all you have to do 
... Daddy." 

Holly sat huddled in her chair. She had stopped eating. She kept looking at 
the shattered remains of the plate of stroganoff and the stain on the wall. 

Donna turned to Holly. "Who do you recommend for my coven?" 

"I-I-I know a woman ... and her daughter ... who believe in ghosts and ... 
the supernatural. They go to mediums and they talk to her dead husband." 

"Is she important?" 

"She just has lots of stocks and bonds." 

"How is it that you know them?" 

Holly's head went lower. "I was ... Adrienne is bi, and I'm kind of bi ... 
and we were making it together. Helene knew about it. She doesn't care. I 
think Helen's bi, too. She talks dirty a lot." 

"How old is this woman and her daughter?" 

"Helen's about forty-two or three, and Adrienne is twenty-three now." 

Donna nodded, pleased. "Tomorrow you will arrange for us to meet. I'll 
absorb them and they can suggest a few other prospects for the coven. Yes. 
It's going well now." She laughed throatily, an evil, masculine laugh that
 sounded weird coming from Donna's full-lipped, very feminine mouth. 

She said to Holly, "Make me a thick cheese sandwich. And clean up that 
mess." 

Holly sprang to obey. 

Donna said to Frank, "I can almost read your mind, Daddy. You still haven't 
given up your daughter. You're a fool. I have her squeezed into a tiny ball 
of energy. She cannot see or hear. From now on, that little ball will grow 
weaker and weaker, and after a few weeks ... I'll snuff it out for good. 
This is a fine, young, beautiful female body. I appreciate it more and more. 
It will serve me well for many years." 

"Can you ... change to another body?" 

Donna regarded him. "Would you find me one as nice, Frank? Would you condemn 
some other girl to save your daughter?" 

"I don't know. Yes!" 

A slow, evil smile. She did not answer his question. 

Holly came hurrying back into the room from the kitchen with a cheese 
sandwich on a plate. "I didn't know if you wanted butter or lettuce." She 
had buttered the bread and added a leaf of lettuce. "If you want some sliced 
tomato-" 

"Put it down. Now both of you eat. We have an energetic evening ahead of 
us." She watched them both resume their meal. She wolfed the sandwich and 
finished the second glass of milk. 

Donna said impatiently, "I'll be in the basement. When you've finished, when 
you've cleaned up, when you've each had baths, come to me." She quickly left 
the room. 

Frank watched Donna leave. Her walk-her gestures-were all different, all 
subtly stiff and strong ... masculine. 

Holly said softly, "I'm scared to death." 

"I think I am, too." 

They forced themselves to eat. They heard Donna go down the stairs. They ate 
in silence for a moment. Then Frank said in a near whisper, "We could leave. 
Get in my car and never come back. That isn't my Donna anymore. I don't feel 
any love for the thing she's become." 

Holly asked, "What if she is a demon now? Couldn't she find us ... and 
punish us?" 

"I don't know. Damn it, I don't know!" Frank's face twisted with anguish. He 
lunged up from the table and pulled Holly with him. He towed her to the 
front door. She said, "She'll kill us!" 

Frank couldn't turn the brass doorknob. He checked the lock. The door 
wouldn't open! He used both big hands, all his strength, but the knob 
wouldn't turn. There was no play in it at all. It was frozen-as if the metal 
had been welded somehow ... His mouth was dry as dust. He was suddenly 
panting with fear. He seized Holly's hand and dragged her to the wide glass 
sliding doors opening to the patio. The latch wouldn't budge. Sweat dripped 
from his face. 

Holly's voice trembled. "She knows! We're prisoners." 

"We can break a window if we have to!" He ran to the nearest windows-the two 
flanking the fireplace-and first tried to twist open the simple lock. It was 
like solid metal. Cursing, Frank pulled off his shoe and smashed the leather 
heel against the pane. The glass was like steel. Frank pounded at it in a 
frenzy. "Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ, JESUS CHRIST!" 

Holly clutched at him, put her thin arms around him. "We have to obey her. 
We have to obey!" 

He stood gasping, teeth gritted. "If she can do this-" He stood for another 
few seconds, staring at the window, then he went loose and sat in a club 
chair. He looked dully at Holly. "Baby, I'm sorry." 

She knelt and rested her head on his knee. "Maybe ... maybe she will be some 
kind of ruler. Maybe we will be rewarded if we serve her." 

He stroked her rumpled, short red hair. "It's insane. It can't be true." He 
looked at the window, at the patio doors, and he shook his head. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

Frank and Holly went down the basement stairs together. She held his hand 
tightly. She said, "Whoopee, I'm scared shitless. I hate initiations." 

Frank squeezed her hand reassuringly, but knew it was a hollow gesture-he 
was as much in Donna's power as Holly. They entered the party room. Donna 
sat on a bamboo stool at the bar. She was reading a pocket book. With a 
shock Frank recognized the robe she now wore. It had been one of Ellen's. It 
was black silk edged in Chinese red, with a red sash. He winced at the 
memory it triggered. His throat tightened. Tears came to his eyes and his 
nose stung. He had packed all of Ellen's clothes into a trunk and stored it 
in a corner of the low attic. No one had seen him do it. How had Donna 
known? The sexy black robe hung on Donna as if made for her. The red sash 
hung loose from the loops. 

Donna turned, and showed her lovely, fifteen-year-old body. She closed the 
book with her left hand and slipped it into the robe's wide slash pocket. 
She scowled at Frank. "You forgot the things I had you buy for the ritual. 
Get them." 

Frank hesitated a fraction of a second, then turned and went back upstairs. 

Holly stood alone, pale, swaying. She breathed, "What's going to happen to 
me?" 

"Nothing fatal. You might even enjoy parts of it." Donna's eyes gleamed. She 
slipped off the stool and approached Holly. She walked around the pile of 
cushions and pillows. Her robe hung open, kept apart by the thrusting globes 
of her breasts. 

Donna said, "Take off that shirt!" 

Holly obeyed with trembling hands. Frank's pink shirt dropped to the tile 
floor. She gasped softly as Donna's mouth fastened on her lips and as Donna 
embraced her tightly. Holly had admitted to being bi-sexual, and she 
responded to the kiss-the strangely masculine, butchy kiss. She pressed her 
warm belly against Donna's. 

Donna kissed Holly's ear and whispered huskily, "I'm going to fuck you 
tonight." Then she laughed and stepped away. She walked regally behind the 
bar. The bar was solidly built, seven feet long, with a green formica top, 
and trimmed with split bamboo along the sides. Donna stepped up onto a low 
stool behind the bar. She closed the silk robe and cinched the sash. She 
said, "This is the altar for now. Climb up on here and lie face up, your 
head to the East." She tapped the left end of the bar. 

Holly complied. Her heart was pounding. The formica was cold when she 
stretched out, and she flinched, but it warmed quickly. Donna placed her 
hands on Holly's sunken belly. "Your body is now the altar upon which we 
will worship the Horned One." 

Frank came into the party room. He carried a wooden bowl, an incense burner, 
a Halloween gargoyle mask, candles, and a very large hollow plastic dildo 
with an attached elastic strap. In addition, in a black, draw-stringed sack, 
were three wooden and plastic crucifixes and a statuette of the Virgin Mary. 

Donna ordered, "Light the candles. Burn the incense then switch off the 
lights. When I tell you, don the mask and become naked. Now bring me the bag 
and the prick." 

Holly turned her head and saw the giant dildo. She groaned, "Ohhh ... " 

In a moment the low-ceilinged basement room was lit only by four small, 
flickering candles. A single candle burned at each end of the altar, inches 
from Holly's head and feet. Incense began to cloy the air. Holly now lay 
with her arms outstretched, candles seated in dripped wax on her upturned 
palms. The rarely used party room door was closed. Incense perfumed the air. 

Frank stripped off his clothes and put on the gargoyle mask. Looking out of 
the small slit-holes, hearing his breathing loud and sibilant behind the 
stiff, formed, laminated plastic, he felt ... free to do evil, free to 
indulge, free to obey Donna, because he was hidden, masked, a different man. 

In the dim, glimmering light, Donna was incredibly beautiful. Her long 
blonde hair, dry now, tumbled over her shoulders, contrasting with the black 
silk. She seemed to exist partly in deep, enveloping shadow. She said to 
Frank, "Kneel below the altar. Take this crucifix and hold it upside down in 
your hands." She pressed an inverted crucifix to Holly's lips. "Kiss the 
Christ's loins." 

When Holly had done it, Donna spread her arms, made Satan's sign with her 
first and fourth fingers, and cried, "OH MIGHTY TCHORT, OH MIGHTY DEV. OH 
MIGHTY BEHERIT, OH MIGHTY PWCCA, OH MIGHTY ASMODEUS, BELIAL AND APOLLYON, OH 
MIGHTY SHEITAN, OH MIGHTY SET, OH MIGHTY O YAMA!" 

Her breasts heaved, her throat corded. Her voice keened to a higher, more 
chilling pitch. "OH GREAT EHEIEH, OH GREAT IOD, OH GREAT TETRAGRAMMATON 
ELOHIM, OH GREAT EL, OH GREAT ELOHIM GIBOR, OH GREAT ALOAH VA-DAATH, OH 
GREAT EL ADOMAI TZABAOTH, OH GREAT SHADDAI!" 

She tore open her robe. Her breasts were bared. Her nipples were starkly 
turgid. She screamed with every ounce of her being! "WE ARE HERE TO SERVE 
THEE, MASTER! I BEG MORE POWERS! THIS COVEN IS CREATED! THIS VESSEL IS 
YOURS!" She clamped a cruel hand on one of Holly's small breasts. She 
positioned the crucifix head down between Holly's thighs at the crotch. 
Holly's outstretched hands jerked. The candles set in wax on her palms 
fluttered and almost went out. She was gasping with fear. 

Donna shouted, "THIS SOUL CRAVES TO SERVE YOU!" She placed both hands on 
Holly's forehead. "SHE IS YOURS BECAUSE SHE IS MINE!" She pointed a 
trembling finger at Frank. "HE IS YOURS BECAUSE HE IS MINE!" She was shaking 
violently. She sucked huge lungfuls of air. She took up the crucifix and 
broke it in two. She pointed to Frank. He broke his crucifix. He was 
shivering, as was Holly. The air in the party room had suddenly cooled. 

A terrifying bass voice came from her throat. Her blazing eyes closed. "BY 
THE MYSTERIES OF THE DEEP, BY THE FLAMES OF BANAL, BY THE POWER OF THE EAST, 
AND BY THE SILENCE OF THE NIGHT, BY THE UNHOLY RITES OF HECATE, I GIVE MY 
HOST AND MY SLAVES OVER TO YOU, MOST FOUL, MOST DEPRAVED MASTER OF SLANDERS, 
DISPENSER OF THE BLESSINGS OF LUST, STEWARD OF VOLUPTUOUS SINS AND MONSTROUS 
VICES, SATANACHIA, IT IS YOU WE WORSHIP THIS AWFUL NIGHT." 

Donna-or the thing that was Donna-quivered as if suddenly emptied and then 
almost instantly refilled. She moaned in a strange, hollow voice. 

The voice said, "I ... am ... here." 

Her eyes opened. There burned in them a new fire, more terrifying than 
before. Alien. Cold. Distant. Contemptuous. She looked slowly around. She 
laughed a laugh that sent tremors of dread and horror through Holly. Frank 
gazed up at the creature that was his daughter and felt awe and mortal fear. 
His skin crawled. His breath was loud and fast in the mask. 

The voice seemed to echo from within her. "I ... accept." 

Again she quivered as if relinquished and then reclaimed. Her eyes gleamed 
with the demon's fire. Her laugh was throaty and triumphant. "He was HERE! 
We are HIS!" 

And the air warmed. She reached to a shelf beneath the bar top and brought 
up a long, thin steel knife. She placed the point to the hollow of Holly's 
pulsing throat. "SWEAR! DO YOU SERVE ME AND THROUGH ME SATANACHIA AND 
THROUGH SATANACHIA LUCIFUGE AND THROUGH LUCIFUGE ASTORATH AND THROUGH 
ASTORATH BEELZEBUB AND THROUGH BEELZEBUB THE INFERNAL MASTER OF THE BLACK 
UNIVERSE LUCIFER?" 

Holly whispered, in a fugue of abject terror, her eyes wide and glazed, 
"Yes, master ... master, in everything. Yes. Yes!" 

When Donna's gaze smote his eyes, Frank nodded quickly and managed, "I 
swear." 

"Go and bring me the cat." 

"Tribble?" 

"Bring it!" 

Frank lurched to his feet and limped heavily to the door. The air in the 
party room was hot! The gas furnace was set for only 76 degrees, and the 
candles couldn't have produced that much heat. And the cold a moment ago! He 
emerged into the main part of the basement and went up the stairs to the 
kitchen. He had an awful suspicion he knew why she wanted the kitten. He 
found Tribble curled up in his box beside the washing machine in the utility 
room. Tribble complained a little when he was picked up, but then settled 
into Frank's arms. Frank stood for a moment, petting the fluffy Persian. It 
purred. Its claws dug into his skin with pleasure. He murmured, "I'm sorry, 
Tribble. This is all a madness." He kissed the top of the kitten's head. 
"And I'm insane too." 

He went back down to the party room. When he entered the dark, candlelit 
room and closed the door behind him, it was like walking into a perfumed 
oven, and he saw Donna bent over Holly, kissing Holly's thimble-like, erect 
nipples. Holly lay, still, with arms outspread, the candles seated on her 
palms. 

Donna straightened. "Bring the animal to me." She took Tribble from Frank 
and held him high in one hand. The knife gleamed in her other hand. Her 
face, breasts and belly were sheened with perspiration. Holly glistened, 
too. At a gesture, Frank knelt before the altar. Donna intoned, '"Astaroth, 
Asmodeus, we beg you to accept the sacrifice of this being which we now 
offer you, so that we may receive the things that we ask." 

She placed Tribble on Holly's naked stomach. Holly quivered. "A minor soul 
for thee in Hell, Astaroth. It COMES!" She plunged the knife into Tribble's 
furry belly and ripped up to the rib cage. Blood squirted. The cat squalled 
and convulsed with lightning speed. Holly screamed. Her eyes rolled up and 
she fainted. Her arms turned and bent. The candles pulled free of her palms 
and fell to the tiles. They went out. Somehow, Donna kept hold of the cat's 
neck as it flailed and scratched and bit. She gored the wound with the knife 
and finally pierced the heart. The kitten died; a last tremor jerked its 
left hind leg. It was a limp thing, leaking blood over Holly's small 
breasts, stomach and belly. Spatters of blood speckled her loins and thighs, 
and arms and face. Donna's hands were scratched and bleeding. Her blood 
mixed with Tribble's. She laughed wildly, flushed, exhilarated, and put the 
wooden bowl on the hollow of Holly's loins. She let the cat's blood run into 
the bowl. She said, "Frank, bring a stool to the side of the altar. Climb 
and kneel on it. Be ready to give your prick to her mouth." Frank obeyed. 

Holly was coming out of her faint. It was much darker in the room. Only the 
candles at her head and feet were still lit. Donna pinched one of Holly's 
nipples. Holly gasped and reflexively brought a hand up. Her eyes widened 
when she saw she had caused the candles to fall. She cringed when she saw 
the dripping carcass held over the bowl. Donna commanded, "Suck his prick!" 

Holly turned her head and faced Frank's flaccid genitals. She looked up and 
saw him in the gargoyle mask. She willingly scooped his softness into her 
mouth and began to suck. Frank was surprised at how fast he got an erection. 
But hiding in his mask helped. And it seemed to him that Holly's mouth was 
unusually warm and her tongue and lips and cheeks unusually gentle and yet 
superbly active. She had never sucked him this well before. He began to 
enjoy it very much. He began coital movements. The eye slits in the mask 
severely restricted his vision. He kept his head down, watching Holly, and 
was able not to see Donna and the bloody thing she held. But she allowed him 
only a moment of pleasure. "Now! Your final test of evil and commitment!" 
She thrust the dead cat into his hands. "Fuck it! Use the knife hole. Now. 
NOW!" 

He held the corpse-the pitiable limp, dead thing that had been Tribble, and 
he obeyed. A malignant yes impelled him to do it. A recognition of his own 
depravity. A rationalization-the cat was dead anyway ... He withdrew from 
Holly's suctioning mouth. He braced the small, gory-wet, furry body against 
the bar edge. He was surprised he wasn't losing his erection. He breathed 
loudly in the mask. He was sweating. The room was dark and roasting hot. He 
thrust into the warm, wet little corpse. The small head wobbled lifelessly. 

Donna commanded of Holly, "Sit up. Drink!" She held out the wooden, 
blood-spattered bowl. It was half full. Holly almost retched. She had 
watched Frank impale the dead kitten. The corpse was moving against her 
upper arm. She cringed from it. And now-But she sat up. She took the bowl in 
trembling hands and brought it to her lips. She tried not to think, not to 
realize! She sought Donna's imperious, masterful eyes. Locked into that 
malevolent gaze, she tilted the bowl and filled her mouth with lukewarm, 
salty blood. Holly swallowed once. Her throat worked as she fought to keep 
from vomiting. Her stomach churned. Donna took the bowl from Holly. "You're 
both learning. Good! There will be more terrible things to do in the days to 
come. This is a beginning." 

Donna raised the bowl to her lips. "ASTAROTH, I SALUTE YOU!" She drank. Then 
she let the dregs flow onto her magnificent breasts. She flung the bowl 
away. It clattered on the tiles. She smeared the blood over her breasts and 
belly. She breathed deep and fast. Her hands entered the valley of her 
thighs. She saw that Frank was still penetrating the corpse. He was working 
hard, squishing in and out of the rib cage. She said, "Now into her mouth 
again!" She pushed Holly's head down, turned it, held it as Frank dropped 
the kitten and plunged between the open, waiting lips. 

Holly almost gagged from the thought of taking his blood-wet penis into her 
mouth-but her mouth and chin were bloody, and the taste of raw blood was 
still with her. A part of Holly's mind caved in and another part burst free. 
She gave in further to an utter abandon, a total psychic release. Holly 
moaned with evil passion and sucked in ecstatic surrender. She did not see 
Donna strap on the huge dildo. But Frank saw it, and the image made his 
pleasure stronger. He peeked through the eye slits of the mask like a 
voyeur. 

Donna ordered, "Turn her, Frank. Ninety degrees." He pulled from Holly's 
mouth and pivoted her on the bar top. Now Holly lay across the eighteen-inch 
wide bar, with her legs, upper back, shoulders and head unsupported. "Hold 
her head in your hands. Use her mouth. Fuck her mouth!" 

Holly didn't understand. The position was awkward and precarious. But she 
did not complain. Her master had ordered it. She gripped the edge of the bar 
for stability. She let her head fall back. Her mouth was pulled open by the 
position. Frank's hands cupped the back of her head. She saw the taut, fuzzy 
sack of his testicles, the rigid boom of his penis, the massive columns of 
his thighs. He entered her mouth again. She couldn't suck as well upside 
down, but she tried ... as he plunged deep. 

Frank watched Donna move between Holly's thighs. Donna pulled up the girl's 
legs and spread them. The dildo wobbled, long, thick, a grotesque 
exaggeration of a penis-ridged, veined, capped by a knoblike glands. Donna 
seated the knob in Holly's exposed, gaping, wet, vulva. "Now I fuck you! Now 
it enters!" 

Holly grunted with surprise and pain. She felt utterly defenseless, utterly 
a slave, with no rights, no pride, no self. She felt the hugeness thrust up 
into her belly. Oh, God-no, not God-oh, SATAN, it was monstrously big! In so 
far! So thick! Holly shook helplessly. She rocked on the bar top as she was 
abused by the giant implement strapped to Donna's pounding, flexing loins, 
and by Frank's large real penis as he ravaged her mouth. Donna held Holly by 
the waist. She leaned forward. Her face was close to Frank's. She panted, 
"Take off your mask, Daddy. Kiss me." 

He tore away the plastic gargoyle face. He arched over Holly's body. His 
hips kept moving. He met his daughter's hot, soft, yielding, hungry mouth. 
Donna and Frank moaned and gasped. Their tongues played. Their mouths sought 
to devour and suck. They drank each other's saliva, each other's depravity. 

Donna slid her lips aside for a few seconds. She hissed, "Throat fuck her. 
Come! Come as we kiss!" Then the burning flower of her mouth resumed its 
feverish, passionate leeching. 

Frank obeyed. He was on the edge of climax. How sweet to be told to give in 
to a savage yearning. There was nothing but his restraint keeping him from 
plunging all the way-forcing into Holly's defenseless throat, to her palate 
and further. He saw Donna thrusting the dildo into Holly's engorged vagina 
to an unbelievable depth. The thing had to be at least a foot long, and most 
of it was wet with her juices, most of it disappeared into the spasming 
belly with each lunge of Donna's naked hips. He heard Holly's grunting and 
felt her mouth tense and relax. He quivered on the brink of ecstasy. His 
hands tightened on Holly's head. He keened as he madly kissed his daughter, 
as her mouth became a lasciviously wet, hot, moving, exquisitely soft world. 

Frank yielded and plunged-plunged-until he was buried, until he felt the 
sharp pressure of her teeth against his pubes and his scrotum pressed 
against her nose. He reared and plunged! He opened his mouth wide to 
encompass all of Donna's magic mouth. His guts boiled. He spurted! He 
spurted! He spurted! 

 CHAPTER NINE 

Frank came out of a deep sleep to the sound of chimes. He lay as if drugged, 
unable to move a muscle for a moment. He felt as if he had been through a 
giant set of wringers. He didn't want to move, but his bladder was too full. 
He flopped his arm up and blearily focused on his watch ... almost one p.m. 
His mouth tasted like dirty flannel-and those door chimes didn't stop. He 
struggled to sit up. He braced with his arms and saw Holly in bed next to 
him. She lay curled into a fetal ball, naked, breathing shallowly. 

He cringed as memory of the past night came. Where was Donna? He almost fell 
out of the bed. His leg hurt him. He limped across the room, naked, feeling 
smeared and sticky, and got into a robe. He limped to the front door and 
opened it. He flinched at the glare of sunshine from the walk and edge of 
the porch. Two men in suits stood before him. Briefcase. 

Frank said, "Oh, Christ, I don't want any!" He started to slam the door. 

"Police business, Mr. Kaiser." 

"What? What are you talking about?" He tried to look closely at the men. 

The nearest stood over six feet, skinny-his gray suit hung loose-and his 
head was a thirtyish, bush-haired hatchet blade. It was he who had spoken-a 
surprising, self-assured tenor. 

The other was heavier, beefy, with cop intangibly written on his stolid face 
and brown suit. The briefcase hung out of place from his strong right hand. 

"I'm Lieutenant Stan Rose, and this is Detective Sergeant James Dennison. 
We'd like to talk to you for a few minutes." 

Frank couldn't suppress a yawn. He rubbed his stubbly face. "What about?" 

"Well, we'd like to discuss it inside, if we may." 

"Look, you dragged me out of a bottomless well. I'm not awake yet. I need a 
shower and a shave ... Come back in an hour, hmmm?" 

"It's about a young woman-a blonde, teenage girl-we think your daughter." 

A sick feeling thickened in Frank's gut. "You mean Donna? What about her?" 

"It would be best if we could talk inside, Mr. Kaiser." 

"Yeah ... okay. Come on in." Frank wanted to rush to Donna's room to see if 
she was there. Had she-or it-slipped out last night after the ... the ritual 
and following orgy? He led the detectives to the sunken living room. "Sit 
down." Frank was disoriented. The demon, the reality of Hell, Satanachia, 
Astaroth ... it had been so convincing. Yet now, in the brightness of day, 
in the intrusive presence of two policemen ... Frank asked, "Is she in 
trouble? I haven't checked her room-" 

Rose said, "Maybe it would be a good idea to see if she's here. We'd like to 
ask her a few questions. Primarily her, as a matter of fact." 

"Why?" Frank became more awake. He rubbed his grainy eyes and face. 

"May we talk with her? The reason will be clear then." 

Frank pulled his robe tighter to his body, cinched the sash again, and 
nodded. "I'll see if she's in her room." 

Lieutenant Rose stood. "Mind if I go with you?" It was more than a request. 

"You think I'll spirit her out a window?" He gestured for the man to come 
along. 

Detective Dennison stayed in the living room. He handed Rose the briefcase. 

They went down the hall. Frank knocked on Donna's door. "Donna?" He hoped 
she'd answer. God-if the detectives searched the house-if they saw that 
stuff in the party room. He couldn't remember if he'd put Tribble's body 
into the garbage, or not, last night. 

Donna opened her door. She was dressed in blue jeans and a loose blue 
blouse. Only its top button was undone. She held a brush in one hand. Her 
long blonde hair was a bit frizzy. Her eyes were ... normal. "Yes, Daddy?" 

Frank took a deep breath. She seemed to be wearing a bra, too. She looked so 
innocent, normal, average. 

He said, "This is Lieutenant Rose, from the police. He wants to talk to 
you." 

Her eyes widened. "Me?" 

Rose smiled. "Yes, for a few minutes. The living room would be better." 

They trooped back. Donna appeared apprehensive. 

Frank said, "Lieutenant, should I call my lawyer? What is this about?" 

Rose sat close to Donna. He put the attach case on a nearby coffee table. 
He opened it to reveal a tape recorder. "We'd like your permission to record 
the conversation from this point." He indicated Sergeant Dennison. "Jim will 
be taking shorthand at the same time." 

Frank got mad. "What is this all about? Permission refused until I know what 
we're into here!" 

Rose flipped the attach case lock with his thumb a few times before looking 
at Donna. "It's about the murder of Dainis Webster yesterday afternoon." 

Donna paled. Frank blurted incredulously, "Webster?" 

Detective Dennison scribbled on his open steno pad. Lieutenant Rose 
answered, "Yes. You know him, or know of him. Your name and address are in 
his address file." Rose watched Frank. "Protection to record? It's for your 
protection as well as ours." 

Frank glanced at Donna. She was biting her lower lip, looking scared, but 
not too scared. He said, "Not yet. I feel at a disadvantage here. Give me a 
minute to get some clothes on." He went to Donna and squeezed her hand. 
"Don't say a word until I get back." 

"I won't." She looked up and-Was there an evil, amused glint in her eyes, a 
message? 

Frank was confused again. Then he realized the demon was in her, acting! He 
turned away and limped to the master bedroom. To his relief, neither of the 
detectives followed him. He wanted to wake Holly and tell her to stay in bed 
and keep quiet. 

Lieutenant Rose said, "Before you go-whose green Vega is that in your 
driveway?" 

"That's ... my girl friend's." He saw the next question coming and added, 
"Holly Barnes. She's asleep right now in my bed. I hope it won't be 
necessary to awaken her." 

Rose hesitated. He studied Frank. "No. I don't think it'll be necessary at 
the moment. Go ahead and get dressed." 

Holly was still sleeping. Frank threw off his robe and slipped into 
underwear, tan slacks, a brown sports shirt, brown socks and brown, 
crepe-soled slip-ons. Then he went to the big bed, shook her awake and 
whispered his instructions. He whispered fiercely, made sure she understood, 
and then took a minute in the bathroom to empty his overfull bladder and run 
an electric shaver over his chin, neck, and upper lip. He let his sideburns 
go untrimmed. He splashed hot water on his face, toweled, combed his hair. 

Through all this, he tried not to think about what Rose had said. 
Webster-Why did they think Donna had anything to do with it? 

Frank returned to the living room. "All right, Lieutenant, I'll let Donna 
decide if we need a lawyer." 

Donna said in a small voice, "No, I don't mind. I just don't know anything." 

Rose nodded. He switched on the tape recorder and positioned the microphone 
between Donna and himself. He took a printed card from his shirt pocket and 
read her rights to her. When he had finished, he asked, "Miss Kaiser, do you 
understand what I just said? Do you agree to answer questions without a 
lawyer present to act in your behalf?" 

"Yes." 

"And you, Mr. Kaiser, as her parent, do you agree?" 

"Yes." 

"Fine." Rose made a face and rubbed behind his ear. "Miss Kaiser, a very 
pretty blonde girl in a yellow dress was seen to leave Dainis Webster's 
house yesterday afternoon ... around two. She called a cab at two-oh-nine 
and was picked up at Fifteenth and Jessup by cab number three-five-oh. 
Driver was Manual Silvers. He drove her to this address, your home, and 
arrived here at two-forty-two. He noticed that the girl's dress was 
spattered with blood-or at least dark brown spots and smears. Also, her 
hands were stained-as if by blood." 

Rose paused. He regarded Donna closely, with shrewd, experienced detective's 
eyes. So, too, did Detective Sergeant Dennison. Frank stared at her. She had 
taken money from his wallet. She had had the opportunity ... Murdered 
Webster? 

Donna seemed to shrink into herself under their gazes. She huddled and began 
to shake. She buried her face in her hands. She sobbed. "It was me ... it 
was me ... I went there ... " She looked up, wide blue eyes wet with tears, 
horrified. "But I didn't k-kill him! He-he was already d-dead!" 

Rose nodded. "All right, let's go into this from the beginning. Why did you 
go there in the first place, Miss Kaiser?" 

"I went there ... I'm interested in the occult and superstitions and 
witchcraft ... things like that." Donna looked around for a handkerchief. 
Rose gave her his. 

Rose asked, "You knew he was an authority in those subjects?" 

"Yes. He was at a party here ... night before last, and-" 

"The night before he was killed." Rose shifted his gaze to Frank. "Does Miss 
Barnes know Webster?" 

"No. She'd never met him before the party. I don't think she said six words 
to him even then." 

Rose nodded. "Umm." He looked to Donna. "Now, you knew Webster was a 
specialist in the occult and related subjects. Did you spend a lot of time 
with him at this party?" 

Donna looked to Frank for support. She seemed young and vulnerable. He sat 
beside her and put his arm around her reassuringly. Frank said, "I invited 
Webster to add a bit of color and variety to the party. A friend told me 
about him. I'd never met him before he showed up." 

"What is the name of this friend?" 

"John Bernstein. He's a professor at Long Beach State." 

Rose nodded and made a note on a pad. He looked up and squinted fiercely at 
Donna. "The cab fare is almost twenty dollars, one way, to Webster's house 
in Long Beach. Why were you willing to spend that kind of money? What was so 
urgent, Miss Kaiser?" 

"Daddy gives me all the money I need. I just paid what the meter said. I 
don't think about money." 

"Forty dollars for cab fare in one day-that's quite an allowance for a 
fifteen-year-old girl." 

Frank said angrily, "I make a lot of money, Lieutenant. I only have myself 
and Donna to spend it on." 

The detectives looked sour. Rose sighed. "Still, it was a special trip. What 
did you want to talk to Webster about, Miss Kaiser?" 

"I-I wanted to find out more about the kinds of clothes witches wore in the 
Middle Ages, and warlocks, too. And if he could teach me a 
realistic-sounding spell I could chant at a costume party I was thinking of 
having here next month." 

"Umm." Rose rubbed behind his ear again. He and Detective Dennison exchanged 
glances. Rose said, "Why don't you tell us how you got in Webster's house 
and how you found him?" 

"Oh ... it was horrible ... when I finally found him up in that room." She 
pressed her face against Frank's shoulder. "He was all-He was dead, and all 
ripped open ... and ... his ... insides were all ... " Donna broke down 
again and sobbed. She clutched at Frank. He patted her. "Easy, honey ... " 

Frank wondered why he didn't tell Rose and Dennison the truth about his 
"daughter." He could show them the party room. He couldn't! He had done 
things with her he couldn't admit. He was no longer the innocent victim. 
He'd sound a fool if he tried to excuse what he had done by saying she had 
an overpowering will, that she was possessed, that she could levitate 
objects. Donna or the thing in her was able to act normal anytime she or it 
pleased. She would lie, blame him, convince anyone he was the monster, the 
depraved libertine who had forced her, raped her ... Frank was trapped ... 
by fear, and by lust and by a growing desire to know--for sure-if the Old 
Ones really existed. He had to cover for Donna, and lie for her. 

Rose waited a moment before asking any more questions. Finally, when Donna 
seemed to have regained some composure, he asked, "How did you get into the 
house? Why were you looking for him upstairs?" 

"The door was open a little ... a few inches ... and I knocked a long time 
and pressed the door chime button ... but nobody came. I put my head inside 
and called ..." Donna took a few seconds to blow her nose and swallow. She 
continued brokenly, "I thought maybe he'd gone out for a few minutes or was 
in the basement and couldn't hear me. I didn't want to just leave right away 
after I'd come so far ... So, I just went inside. I sat in the room ... on 
the right, sort of an office or study or something. There was a desk and 
books ... but it smelled awful, and I saw some things had been burned in the 
fireplace." 

Rose pressed, "Why did you go upstairs?" 

Donna chewed her lower lip. She started to cry again. "I shouldn't have! I 
should have just left! But ... I got curious and ... and I wondered why he'd 
left the door ajar and everything. So I started to explore. All those occult 
paintings and decorations and things ... I was curious what the rest of the 
house was like." 

"And you found his body in the upstairs hall?" 

"No-it was in the bedroom. It was awful!" 

"How did you get blood on your hands and dress, Miss Kaiser?" 

Donna moaned, quavering with horror, "I fell in it! I got so dizzy and 
sick-I fell on him!" She wailed and started to run away. Frank held her. He 
comforted her. 

Rose switched off the tape recorder for a moment. He conferred with Dennison 
for a moment in a low voice. They checked some papers from a folder in the 
attach case. Neither Frank nor the sobbing girl could hear what they said. 
Rose switched on the recorder again. "A few more questions, Miss Kaiser. 
Just a few. We have to know why you didn't call the police then, or report 
it to someone, even the cabby." 

"I don't know. I just wanted to get out-I didn't want to even think about it 
or remember it. It was horrible!" 

Rose asked Frank, "Mr. Kaiser, did she tell you?" 

"No." Frank was pale. He was cradling a murderess in his arms. Or a 
murderer? 

Donna said unevenly, "I knew I should have called the police. But I was 
already home ... and I was afraid of getting mixed up ... and I didn't want 
to get Daddy involved ... I'm sorry." 

"Where is your yellow dress, Miss Kaiser?" 

"In my room ... in the bottom drawer of ... " 

Rose signaled Dennison. The sergeant left to find the dress. 

Frank watched him go and wondered if he should object. Didn't they have to 
have a search warrant? But Donna had told the exact place. She was in full 
command. He had found a pulse in her thumb as he held her hand during most 
of the interview, and her heartbeat hadn't varied from normal. A steady 
seventy-five beats per minute. Frank was unsteady himself. He asked Rose, 
"Webster was mutilated?" 

"Disemboweled. It wasn't pretty. It was deliberate, and there were parts of 
him missing." 

Frank stared at Rose. He steeled himself not to look down at Donna. He said, 
"I don't think I want to hear any more." 

"I wouldn't tell you anymore." 

Dennison returned to the living room with Donna's soiled yellow dress in a 
plastic evidence bag. 

Lieutenant Rose asked, "May we take the dress for tests, Mr. Kaiser?" 

"I don't see why not. But Donna's already admitted it's Webster's blood." 

"We like to be sure." 

Frank said, "Go ahead." 

Rose nodded to himself. His hand went to the tape recorder, then fell away. 
"Mr. Kaiser, just for the record, where were you at two yesterday 
afternoon?" 

Frank grinned. "At the works. Kaiser Kilns." 

Rose switched off the tape recorder. "Well, thank you. Especially you, Miss 
Kaiser. I know it's been a traumatic experience and I'm sorry we had to put 
you through it. I hope you understand we had to follow up the lead and ask 
these questions." 

Donna nodded, sniffling. She held out his damp handkerchief. "Thank you." 

Rose inclined his head and pocketed it. 

Two minutes later Frank closed the front door as the two detectives went 
down the walk to their car. He watched until they drove away. From behind 
him he heard Donna's deep, evil chuckle. He turned and she pressed against 
him. She put her arms around his neck and pulled his head down. "You 
performed beautifully, Frank. I'm proud of my daddy. I'm going to reward 
you." 

She kissed him sensually, erotically. He couldn't help returning the kiss 
and holding her tightly in his arms. He had to break for air. His lungs were 
starved. And he had to ask the question. He gasped into her ear, "Did you 
kill Webster?" 

"Of course. I sent him over. His soul brought me powers. I had to kill his 
knowledge and destroy that book. We can give limited spells to trusted 
humans. We cannot let those ancient rituals and exorcisms and powerful 
chants become widespread. We will not be controlled by you mortals!" 

Frank wanted to pull away. She had killed Webster. Disemboweled him! 

She laughed. "Still under the influence of Christian morality, aren't you? 
Still bothered by conflicting loyalties?" She wrenched his head around and 
transfixed him with her bright, powerful blue eyes. She had masked and 
"filtered" her extraordinary, hypnotic gaze while the detectives were 
present. 

"Frank, you are in this to the death. You are mine! As much as Holly, you 
are my slave." She smiled. As she held him with her eyes she unzipped his 
pants. Her fingers deftly slipped into his briefs and claimed him. She 
manipulated gently, insidiously. He hardened. "Now we're going to your 
bedroom," she said, "and we're going to use Holly again, and I'm going to 
use you. But before that you're going to take off these prim clothes I had 
to put on in a hurry when those stupid detectives arrived." 

She "towed" him to the bedroom. He felt humiliated and loathed himself. But 
her skillful grip milked him subtly, as she pulled him along, promising 
delights, recalling memories. Frank despised himself ... and knew he was 
into the affair to the death. It was penetrating. He had lied to the police 
... was now harboring and conspiring with a murderer. God knew what other 
charges could be leveled against him in addition to the sex crimes he had 
already committed-with his daughter. 

In the bedroom Holly was awake, sitting up, when they entered. She asked, 
"Why were they here?" 

Donna said, "Undress me, Daddy." As Frank obeyed with trembling hands, Donna 
told Holly of the scene with the detectives. "Fools. They can't believe a 
sweet, innocent blonde teen-ager could do the monstrous, vile things that 
were done to Webster. They'll look for an insane killer, a man with a 
history of sex perversion and psychopathic violence." 

Frank unhooked Donna's tight bra. She shrugged it off. It fell to the 
carpet. He knelt and eased her peach panties down. He couldn't resist 
kissing the smooth, rounded, white cheeks of her buttocks as he pulled the 
panties down her thighs. 

Abruptly, she bent over. "You an ass man, too, Daddy? Want to lick her hole? 
Then, do if!" She pulled apart the cheeks. He stared at the small, puckered, 
brownish-pink sphincter. He closed his eyes and licked into the deep, fleshy 
crevice. After a moment she said, "Enough." She stepped out of the panties 
puddled at her feet and climbed onto the big bed. She took Holly into her 
arms and kissed her lasciviously. 

Frank didn't have to be told to strip. His erection didn't diminish as he 
watched Holly respond. Donna was feasting on her large red nipples. When 
Frank's weight disturbed the mattress, Donna took her mouth from Holly's 
left breast and said, "On your back, Daddy. I'm going to feed you five or 
six courses of hot, juicy cunt." 

A weird excitement shivered Frank. He lay on his back. Donna straddled his 
chest. Her weight came down and he was faced with the tanned gorge of her 
open thighs and the pink, moist slit of her vulva. "I love your tongue, 
Frank. This body loves it. The pleasure nerves are well developed. And you 
love to give it to your daughter, don't you?" 

He couldn't answer. He put his hands on her silky cheeks and pulled her up 
to his waiting mouth. He kissed the wet, warm, vertical lips, and ran his 
tongue between. He felt her tense when he strummed her clitoris. He reveled 
in the act. He gave all of himself to it. Why not? Why not? He was in so 
deep now it didn't matter. 

Donna said, "Now, Holly, suck him off. Slowly. Don't let him come until I 
tell you." 

Frank felt Holly moving on the bed, and then felt the soft, warm, wet 
enclosing by her mouth. He quivered and groaned into Donna's sweet, gaping 
vulva when Holly's tongue went to work. Donna hunched forward and rocked her 
yielding mound against his face. His nose was buried against her. His open 
mouth was fastened to her pink opening, his head was wedged between her 
tensing, hardening thighs. His tongue played rhythmic games. She climaxed, 
panting, jolting his head with reflexive pelvic thrusts. She grunted, "Don't 
let him go off yet!" She could sense from his body's tension, from the 
enthusiasm of his tongue, that he was close. 

Holly stopped the long, slow takings of her mouth and throat. She held him 
in her hand and waited a moment before beginning again. She blindly obeyed 
Donna. She was nearly mindless. Last night had almost wiped out her 
identity. She was now simply a slave. 

Donna took deep breaths. "I'll keep you with me for a thousand years, Frank. 
Just for this ... " She reached down with both hands and pressed his face 
tighter against her core. "Again!" 

Fifteen minutes later Frank's jaws were aching, exhausted. His tongue felt 
raw at the base, painful, where it curled out of his throat, from constant 
straining to reach far into her between sustained periods of stabbing at her 
swollen clitoris. 

Donna was almost collapsed over him, panting in the aftermath of a seventh 
wracking orgasm. She toppled off him. She watched Holly fit her mouth with 
exquisite gentleness and care over Frank's throbbing, jerking organ. She 
chuckled, "Been up to the edge a dozen times, haven't you, Daddy? Want your 
sweet little Donna to finish you?" 

Frank made a yes sound. He had thought he had been so thoroughly drained the 
night before that he couldn't manage another ejaculation for days, yet now 
he knew it was there, poised to spew from his loins again. He grabbed a 
pillow and doubled it under his head as Donna shifted into position. Holly 
moved aside. 

Donna noticed what he had done. "Why, Daddy! How you've changed. Now you 
want to watch your little girl suck you off. Aren't you going to try to stop 
me? Not even one 'Please, Donna, for God's sake, don't'?" She laughed with 
obscene delight. "You're making good progress. You both are." 

Donna patted Holly on the head. "Do you want relief, too, dear?" 

Holly nodded mutely. 

Donna looked around the room. Her notice was caught by the knobbed posts at 
each corner of the king-size bed frame. The posts were about ten inches 
high, carved in a series of six small connected walnut spheres the size of 
golf balls. Donna pointed to one of the posts. "Fuck that until you come." 

Holly, for the first time in all the times she had been in the room, and in 
the bed, saw the knobbed posts for what they could be used for. She groaned. 
She obeyed. Frank watched, sunk in lust and depravity, as Donna bent her 
head and licked the silky purple head of his big penis. Then she placed her 
succulent, warm lips on it and with infinite skill, took it deeply into her 
mouth. Behind her, to the right, Holly crouched, her slender body taut, and 
lowered herself onto the knobs. Frank watched that, too. He was breathing 
loudly, erratically. His belly sucked in. "Ohhh, Satan! Oh, shit! I LOVE 
IT!" 

Donna had taken him till her throat stroked his glands, and she was kissing 
his pubic hairs with lips clinging to the thick root of him. 

Holly was gasping, shuddering as the fifth and sixth wooden spheres of the 
post disappeared inside her. Her eyes locked with Frank's for a moment. Then 
she lifted and sank, lifted and sank, slowly at first, then faster as her 
secretions oiled the polished walnut. 

Frank yielded. "Suck, Donna, suck! Suck me ... suck me ... suck meeeeee!" 

She chuckled somehow with her mouth and throat full of him. Her head rose 
and fell swiftly. Her lovely blonde hair brushed his belly with tickling 
grazes, and her full breasts jostled and nudged his thighs, her soft, gentle 
hands cupped his scrotum in warmth. 

Frank went rigid, head trembling, eyes fixed, seeing Donna's greedy lips 
sweeping down ... seeing Holly working more and more enthusiastically over 
the post. 

A strangled shout erupted from his throat as his guts clenched and his loins 
exploded with the ultimate pleasure. He shook and thrashed, out of 
control-not wanting control!-as his body and mind seethed in that wonderful 
agony. When the pleasure turned keen and painful he cursed God for making 
men this way. The pleasure should last. He begged Donna to stop sucking. He 
watched, dull-eyed, no longer interested, as Holly gasped and moaned into a 
perverted climax. 

She was plunging up and down on the knobbed post. Juices ran down the lower 
knobs. The small wooden globes made sucking sounds as they emerged. Her 
clitoris was surely dragged down into direct contact with them as they were 
crammed into her vagina. She drooled as she worked, head down, body flexing, 
hands clawing the bedding. A series of wracking spasms shook her. She 
whimpered. She slowed and carefully disengaged from the wet post. She 
collapsed on the bed. 

Donna said approvingly, "Very good, my slaves. Rest for a while. Bathe, 
dress. This evening we recruit my coven." 

 CHAPTER TEN 

Frank was proud of the party room; it was now the coven room, complete in 
every way as Donna had specified. The floor was wall to wall in deep pile 
burgundy nylon carpeting. Sixteen dollars per square foot. The ceiling he 
had painted with two coats of flat finish black paint. Holly had helped. 
Finding enough black velvet to cover the walls had been a job, even in Los 
Angeles. He'd found ten bolts in a theater supply house. He had hung the 
velvet with Holly's help. Neither he nor Donna wanted a lot of workmen in 
the basement, seeing the developing room, asking questions. 

The altar had been a problem. Until he had gone to a custom decorator in 
Hollywood who was used to cult-oriented special orders. The 
specifications-red leather top, archaic design, black velvet draping-all had 
gone unremarked upon. The drawing (which he had duplicated on the office 
copier) served beautifully as a guide for the decorator's workers. The 
decorator had also provided the sponge rubber pads covered with crimson 
velvet. After a consultation with Donna, Frank ordered the pads be the size 
of bed mattresses. Six-inch foam rubber. There were, in addition, dozens of 
big, red velvet pillows. The old cabinets he had found in antique shops in 
Venice, up the coast near Santa Monica, and the candle holders had been 
found by the Hollywood decorator. 

Frank stood in the coven room and felt the sinister atmosphere. The tall, 
thick black candles were lit. They would last all night. The effect was 
ominous, evil, arcane. He thought for a moment of the three thousand dollars 
it had all cost. He didn't care. There was no turning back. 

He thought they were in the clear as far as the police were concerned. John 
Bernstein had called a few hours after Lieutenant Rose and Sergeant Dennison 
had left the house. Bernstein had confirmed that Frank Kaiser and Donna 
Kaiser had never met Dainis Webster before the night of the party. Bernstein 
had said, "Frank, I thought it best not to mention that spell and Donna's 
participation. It was so obviously a case of too vivid an imagination and an 
emotional catharsis ... a kind of hysteria ... physical ventilation of 
psychic pressures ... " Bernstein was an amateur psychologist. 

Frank had thanked him. The next day at the office Frank learned the 
lieutenant had been there, too, checking on his alibi. So they were now 
probably off the suspect list. Safe. Frank, for the hundredth time, wondered 
if he was right in covering up for Donna. It was too late. He was an 
accessory now. Her hold on him was too strong. 

Donna was up in the master bedroom, preparing herself for the first full 
coven ritual. She had demanded five hundred dollars of him-and he had given 
it-and she had had Holly drive her to Beverly Hills, to buy "suitable 
clothes." She had returned with outfits for him, for Holly and herself. 
Frank looked down at himself. He wore a floor-length black and red brocaded 
robe with heavy brass buttons cast with a horned devil's face. Within the 
robe he was naked. He wore a black skull cap. He wore black velvet slippers. 
Donna must have gotten the outfits from a motion picture costume company. 
Upstairs, waiting to admit the new recruits, Holly was similarly attired, 
without the skull cap. 

Frank looked at the two shrouded figures that flanked the front of the 
altar. They were life-size statues. Donna had made certain alterations ... 
He limped to one of the antique, black-lacquered cabinets. On its top were 
an old, brass, covered dish and a crystal decanter of dark red fluid. One 
dish held squares of a special, dense cake Holly had baked. Each square 
contained enough ground-up marijuana to make anyone high for the night. The 
decanter contained boysenberry juice laced with amphetamines. A ceremonial 
eating of a piece of "Black Mass" cake and a mouthful of the purplish 
"Satan's Blood" would charge up anyone to extraordinary feats. Donna had 
bought the drugs. He didn't know where she had gotten them. He didn't care. 
He had reluctantly bought a small live pig. It was in the garage, oinking 
and grunting to itself in a stout wooden box. He still resisted ritual 
sacrifice ... and the acts it involved. 

Frank heard the door chimes sound upstairs. He wondered who had arrived 
first. For a fleeting second he wondered if it was the police. But he hadn't 
heard from Lieutenant Rose again since that visit over a week ago. The 
papers hadn't sensationalized the murder of Webster. A terrible jet crash in 
the Santa Monica mountains with a loss of 135 lives and a spectacular mud 
slide in Malibu had dominated the newspapers for three days. And on the 
fourth day some terrorist group had bombed The Queen Mary in Long Beach. 
What was the grotesque murder of an obscure "demonologist" compared to those 
stories? 

Frank left the coven room and went up the stairs. He reminded himself he was 
no longer simply Frank Kaiser. He was now acolyte to a demon-possessed 
witch. He had to act the part. In a perverse way he was looking forward to 
it. 

The first arrival was a big, heavy young man named Jimmy Massinsky. He 
looked out at the world with frightened brown eyes set in a plump babyish 
face. Donna had found him in Beverly Hills somehow. He was the only heir to 
a real estate fortune held by his mother. He was twenty-six years old, 
awkward, insecure, looking for direction and meaning. Donna's eyes had 
glowed when she had described him. "He will be wealthy inside six months. 
His mother will die of an incurable cancer. I will arrange that." 

Frank had asked, "How?" 

"I have powers. He will arrange for me to meet her. I will alter her glands 
slightly. A few visits and she'll develop a tumor somewhere and it will grow 
with great speed." 

Holly had greeted Jimmy and led him to the basement stairs when Frank 
reached the top. Frank said in his best, deep, booming voice, "Satan 
welcomes you, my son. Descend with me to Hell." 

Jimmy almost giggled. "Yeah, okay. I like those outfits. Am I going to wear 
one?" 

"When you have passed the Tests. When you have irrevocably given yourself to 
Satan and all his needs." 

The chimes sounded. The recruits were prompt. It was not quite yet eleven 
p.m. Frank preceded Jimmy down the stairs. Holly stayed behind to answer the 
door. In the coven room, Frank commanded, "You must strip and prepare to 
face Evil." 

Jimmy was impressed by the room. He obeyed Frank without question. He asked, 
"When does Donnathia come down?" 

Donna had adopted that name. 

"When the others have arrived and prepared for her." Frank folded his arms 
across his chest. He watched with mild curiosity as Jimmy undressed and 
showed a pale white, pudgy body, with hairy thighs and arms. But it was the 
young man's genitals that were remarkable-the penis hung between his thick 
hairy thighs like a pink and white length of hose. It was a good six inches 
long in its soft state, Frank saw. Frank thought it no accident that Jimmy 
was present and so well hung; somehow the demon had sensed his 
"qualifications" on all levels -psychological, financial and physical. 

Naked, ill-at-ease, Jimmy asked, "What now?" 

"Lie face down on the carpet facing the altar. Meditate on the deadly sins. 
Prepare your mind to do evil, to defy society, to believe in the final 
victory of Satan and the final death of God." 

Jimmy nodded and did as he was told. At the same moment there was a murmur 
of female voices overhead and steps on the stairs. Frank waited as Helene 
Buvo and her daughter, Adrienne, hesitantly entered the coven room. Holly 
had led them down. 

Holly seemed transformed; the special robe and her duties and status as 
acolyte to Donnathia made her glow with newfound assurance. Some of her old 
surface hipness and confidence showed, but altered to conform to her new 
identity. She smiled at Frank from behind the two women. 

She introduced them to Frank. He bowed his head in stern greeting. He kept 
his arms crossed on his chest. "Strip!" he commanded with baritone firmness. 

Helene was a dyed blonde woman, sinewy, slender, with high cheekbones and 
darting, curious eyes. She was forty-five but looked thirty-five. She 
smiled. "By all means." She dismissed as unimportant the naked, prone, 
blubbery form of Jimmy Massinsky. 

Adrienne was auburn-haired, an inch or two taller than her mother, and 
possessed a tremendous bust. Her hips were solid blocks of bone and flesh. 
Her waist was narrow. Her legs were long and shapely, proportioned along the 
lines of her opulent breasts and hips. 

Frank found it hard to believe the two women were mother and daughter, 
compared physically as well as emotionally. 

Adrienne was fidgety, frightened, nervous, jumpy. She started at the sight 
of Jimmy and her eyes widened at the coven room's hangings and decor. She 
looked at the shrouded statues fearfully. 

Adrienne whispered to her mother, "I don't think I want to go through with 
this." 

Helene turned scornfully to her. "I do! I swam in Donnathia's eyes. I know 
her powers. I know she can link us with John-wherever he is in Hell. She 
told us she could reach him." 

"But this isn't just a game ... I think it's real! She terrified me when 
Holly brought her to us." 

Helene nodded. "Me, too. That's how I know! I'm tired of paying mediums for 
fakery and deception. I'll gladly give my soul if there's really a world 
beyond!" 

"It's crazy. It can't be." 

"Then there's nothing to fear, you goose! Get your clothes off." 

But Adrienne held back while undressing. She would only take off her large, 
white, wired bra until after Helen had casually dropped her skimpy cups. 
Helen's breasts were conical, tipped with businesslike red teats. She 
obviously had suckled Adrienne twenty-two years before, as well as 
innumerable men since. Adrienne's breasts sagged inevitably when her bra's 
support loosened, but only enough to give them an enhanced, earthy, natural 
shape. They were incredible, with tiny nipples centered in wide oval smears 
of light red-brown aureoles. Helen matter of factly stepped out of her black 
panties. Her center was a bushy pelt of curly brown. Adrienne pushed her 
pink panties down off her swelling hips and down those ivory columns. Her 
triangle was thinly covered by tight red-brown curls. 

Holly said, "Lay down facing the altar. One of you on each side of Jimmy." 
She let her hand slide erotically over Adrienne's rump. "Donnathia will 
descend to us in a moment. We await the last of our number." She glided out 
of the room and went back upstairs. 

As if on cue, the chimes rang. Frank warned, "Do not speak to one another. 
Silence until our Witch tells you to speak. Consider that you will lose your 
souls tonight. Consider that you are doomed to serve Satan forever, once the 
ritual is complete." 

Adrienne lay trembling. There were goose bumps on her flesh even though the 
temperature was a warm 75 degrees. 

Frank remembered Donnathia's instructions: "Give extra amounts of the cake 
and drink to that tub Massinsky and the amazon. His fat will absorb a lot of 
the drugs, and she'll need a lot of it to crack her fear and inner 
resistance." Donnathia had laughed. "But once that girl's walls go down 
she'll be hell on two legs." 

Holly brought down Jonathan Dean. She said quietly, "I will inform Donnathia 
all are present." 

Dean was cool and interested. "Hello, Frank." He looked around, examined the 
three naked people on the carpet, and smiled. "Nice layout. Be a perfect 
setting for a sex movie orgy. Got any cameras hidden in the walls?" 

Frank looked through the man. "Strip! Lie on the floor facing the altar!" 

"Oh, very straight. Very sticky for the proper atmosphere and all. Okay. 
I'll go along with it. That's what I'm here for." 

"SILENCE! YOU WILL NOT SPEAK!" Frank thundered in his powerful voice. He saw 
Dean recoil, cowed somewhat. 

The memory of Donnathia's visit had to be fresh in the wealthy man's mind. 
He had been bowled over by her radiance and aura. She had held him with her 
eyes and promised him unspeakable pleasures and enormous wealth and power. 
"Serve me," she had whispered, piercing him with her blue lightning gaze, 
"Serve me, be an immortal slave to Satan, and you shall rule a nation of 
mortals on this Earth." 

Jonathan Dean had been captured, but obviously her effect had worn off a 
bit. Frank smiled to himself as he prepared, upon Holly's return, to feed 
the new ones their ration of drugged cake and juice. Dean and the others 
would be overwhelmed by her awesome persona. No mortal could resist her when 
she unleashed the full force of her will and her powers. The drugged food 
and drink were mere tools, devices to shortcut to a complete commitment to 
her and to the Old Ones, and the Supreme One. Donnathia was moving very 
fast. 

Frank was interested in the nakedness of Jonathan Dean. The flabby pectorals 
and saggy paunch made of the rich man just another middle-aged male who 
lacked discipline, who would die in a few years of a coronary, a stroke, or 
cancer. Unless Satan accepted him. Dean's genitals were small, but Frank 
knew that wasn't a sure-fire guide to the length of his penis when erect. 
Dean finished stripping and went to his knees, and then to his stomach next 
to Helene. He winked at her. She winked back. 

Holly entered the coven room. The door was left wide open. The basement 
beyond was in total darkness. Holly and Frank served the would-be coven 
members the cake and juice. Frank presented each with a portion in a small 
silver dish. Holly served them the liquid in a silver goblet. Jimmy 
Massinsky ate two pieces and swallowed a half goblet full of the spiked 
juice. Adrienne also was given two squares of cake and a half goblet to 
drink. Frank lit four incense pots. The heavy aroma began to fill the room. 
It would take about fifteen minutes for the drugs to take effect. 

Frank and Holly sat at opposite ends of the black velvet-draped altar and 
chanted in unison, "Aglon Tetragram Veycheon Stimulamathon. Erohares 
Retragsammathon Clyoran Icion. Edition Eh:fatten Eryona Onera Erasyu Mayu. 
Meffias Soter Emmanuel Sabotli Adouai, I call you. Amen." 

Donnathia had chanted the spell once for them, and the strange words had 
stayed in his mind-and in Holly's mind-and they came to his lips without 
search or strain. Frank and Holly droned the spell again and again. Frank 
knew it was very close to midnight. He thought he saw a movement beyond the 
door. Adrienne was breathing raggedly. 

Then Donnathia was standing in the doorway! The tall black candles flickered 
from an unfelt wind. Wild shadows leaped in the black room. She wore a cape 
of crimson silk edged in silver and black. It moved gently as if alive 
against her naked, magnificently formed body. Her long blonde hair was 
styled in a strange, upswept design that lent an evil, cruel aspect to her 
young face. Her eyes-! 

Both Holly and Frank broke off their chant. Frank cried, "SHE IS HERE!" The 
supplicants all looked around. They gasped. 

Donnathia walked slowly, backward, imperiously, to the left, and mounted the 
low platform behind the altar. When she spoke, her voice was vibrant, filled 
with power, yet trembling on the edge of hysteria. 

"This now is the beginning of the Rule of Satan! This now is the beginning 
of the true death of God! By our oaths this night, by our orgies this night, 
by our rituals this night we make a Way for Him. We give our souls to the 
Horned One, to the Hideous One and to the Most Terrible One." 

She flung her arms wide. The crimson silk swirled away from her white body. 
"May the Gods of Acheron be propitious to me. May the triple divine power of 
Jehovah fail! Fire, air, water, spirit of the earth, hail! Chief of the 
East, Beelzebub, monarch of fiery hell, and Demogorgou, we propitiate you 
that Awful Satan may bless us!" 

Her intense, catalyzing voice affected everyone. Its harmonics plucked deep 
in their seething minds. Adrienne was moaning, beginning to writhe on the 
carpet. Her long, solid legs spread open. Her eyes were glazed, staring as 
she gaped up at the altar. 

Jimmy Massinsky was squirming, rubbing himself on the deep red pile, digging 
in his fingers. His flesh quivered. He panted loudly. He gazed at Donnathia 
with abject adoration. Helene and Jonathan were only slightly less affected. 

Donnathia was exalted. She trembled with excitement and power. She suddenly 
clamped her hands on her lovely, full, naked breasts and dug her fingers 
deep into the white flesh. She was flushed. Her eyes were burning blue 
coals. "I GIVE YOU SOULS, MY LORD OF THE FLIES! I ASK POWERS TO DO YOUR 
WILL!" 

Frank and Holly were caught by the force of her mind. They sank to their 
knees. The candlelight quivered. Fantastic shadows, black-on-black, seemed 
to cavort on the velvet-draped walls. Donnathia called, "Bring the 
sacrifice!" 

Frank was drunk on her aura, on the hot, evil electricity in the air, on the 
needs of the squirming bodies. He went quickly out of the room, up the 
stairs, feeling his way in the darkness, out to the garage. In the cool 
night air he lost the madness of the coven room. He faltered. He rubbed his 
face and shivered in his brocaded robe. He moaned softly, "Oh, my God. Help 
me." He waited a moment, head bowed, then sighed and opened the wooden box 
that held the small pig. He lifted out the wriggling, kicking animal and 
returned to the house. When he descended the basement stairs he descended 
into dim, flickering Hell. The aroma of incense was heavy, the sibilance of 
breathing and movement was pervasive. Over it all Donnathia's driven voice 
had reached new peaks of unrestrained frenzy. The pig kicked and squealed in 
his arms. Perhaps it sensed its death. 

When he reentered the coven room, he saw that Holly was bearing a big, oval 
bronze platter to the altar. Donnathia held a long, oddly curved knife 
aloft. The handle had been intricately carved from ivory. The silver hilt 
was shaped like a pair of graven horns. She continued a ritual incantation 
to the legions of Hell. Her voice was hypnotic. 

The drugs had taken full possession of the two men and women who groveled on 
the carpet. Jimmy Massinsky had rolled onto his back. His erection was 
monstrously large. He held his arms upraised to Donnathia, mouth open in a 
continuous panting moan. His loins jerked in blind thrusts. His organ 
wobbled heavily in the air. Adrienne was staring at his massive erection, 
drooling, squirming fractions of inches closer to him, gasping 
inarticulately. Her eyes were strangely wide. Helene had risen to a kneeling 
position, her hands clasped tightly, her lips moving in seeming prayer, and 
her eyes were riveted on Donnathia, and she was crying. Jonathan lay 
quivering, breathing very fast, still on his stomach, straining his neck to 
watch Donnathia. He drooled without realizing. He wiped his mouth 
automatically with his right hand. 

Frank was sinking back into the atmosphere of the room. He carried the pig 
behind the altar. He was suddenly very close to Donnathia. Her silk cape 
brushed his face. She wore a musky perfume that made his mind reel. She was 
gloriously evil, dominant, transformed! Her body lured him ... naked ... 
giver of pleasure. He hoisted the pig into the heavy metal platter. He held 
it on its back. He relinquished his hold on its forelegs to Holly, who stood 
on the other side of Donnathia. 

Donnathia cried, "FOR THEE, STEWARD OF VOLUPTUOUS SINS AND MONSTROUS VICES, 
SATAN, SATAN, SATAN, I KILL!" 

She held the knife in both hands and plunged it into the belly of the pig. 
The animal's screaming squeal joined with her scream of delight. Blood 
spurted. The pig arched and convulsed as she raised high the reddened, 
curved blade and plunged it again into the shrieking, dying beast. Frank and 
Holly fought to control the kicking legs and hold it in position. They were 
spattered. Donnathia's heaving white breasts and belly were spattered. Frank 
suddenly saw her butchering Webster in the same way. He closed his eyes and 
drove the image away. With the third triumphant plunge the knife found the 
pig's heart and it went limp, except for reflexive spasms. Blood flowed in 
red streams. It covered the bottom of the deep bronze platter. 

Donnathia cried, panting, "Come up, come up to me how, you worshippers of 
Satan, and partake in this sacrifice to him. EAT-and give up your souls to 
him!" She slashed open the pig and tore out the bloody, leaking heart. 

Jimmy, Adrienne, Helene and Jonathan were on their feet and crowding against 
the black velvet-draped altar. They were blazing-eyed, howling, clutching, 
begging for her to feed them, to make them slaves of Satan. Donnathia tore a 
piece of the heart free with her teeth. She spat it into her palm. She 
stuffed it into Adrienne's gaping mouth. Adrienne shuddered and chewed and 
swallowed. Her eyes rolled up. She fell back to the carpet and writhed, 
uttering weird cries. 

Donnathia laughed insanely and fed the others a piece of the heart. Then she 
hacked free the pig's gonads and fed one each to Frank and Holly. Frank 
crushed the small, bitter pellet of flesh between his teeth and felt himself 
going over the edge. He could do anything now! He ripped the cover from the 
nearest statue. Revealed was a seated, wooden demon, its gargoyle face split 
in a fiendish grin, its taloned hands clutching the arms of its throne-like 
chair, its scaly wings folded behind its hunched back. Holly tore the shroud 
from the other statue, a twin of the one Frank had uncovered. 

Donnathia had seen them in a Hollywood shop that specialized in renting odd, 
esoteric props to motion picture and TV production companies. The owner 
would not sell the statues ... at first. Now they belonged to her. The 
statues were frighteningly realistic; it must have taken a master wood 
carver months to complete them. The shop owner had said they were 
commissioned by a rich eccentric who had died before they had been finished. 
The artist had sold them to a major movie studio for the balance due on his 
commission. They had been used a few times in horror movies. Then the studio 
had been sold and the props auctioned off. 

Donnathia had added something-nine-inch black plastic sex organs reared up 
from the mahogany loins. They were joined to the wood by tightly fitted 
dowels. Frank had installed those huge artificial phalluses. He had done a 
good job; they appeared to be part of the creatures, and made more obscene 
and malignant the grins on the hideous faces. In the flickering candlelight 
the monsters seemed almost alive. 

Donnathia ripped the pig's entrails from its belly and arranged them in an 
intricate design. She smeared her breasts and belly with her bloody hands. 
Her hot gaze fastened on Adrienne. She pointed at the writhing girl. Her 
voice pierced Adrienne's mindless activity. "The young Buvo-embrace your 
master! Fuck your master!" 

Adrienne sat up. She saw the grinning, lascivious monsters waiting. She saw 
the rearing black phalluses. She crawled, trembling, to the nearest. She 
reached and fondled the long, thick, black plastic. It was resilient, but 
stiff. She got to her feet, knelt on the wide wooden throne and kissed the 
grinning mahogany lips. Jimmy Massinsky was squatting, his hands on his own 
massive erection, masturbating as he watched. Helene was on her knees, 
sucking Jonathan's organ with sloppy abandon. He jerked and thrashed on his 
back. 

Adrienne reached under and clasped the phallus. She lowered herself upon it. 
She took a great, thick length of it. She quivered and began rising and 
sinking on it. She embraced the statue and shook and moaned. Her white hips 
and buttocks rose and fell, rose and fell ... She crushed her melon breasts 
against the scaled chest and kissed passionately the frozen, ugly, gargoyle 
face. 

Donnathia stabbed the air with her arm. "The old Buvo-embrace your master. 
Fuck your master!" 

Helene stopped goggling Jonathan's penis. She looked up, eyes wide. 
"I-can't. It's too big." 

"FUCK YOUR MASTER-OR DIE!" 

Helene groaned, wired to Donnathia's eyes. She got to her feet. Still 
captured, unable to look away, to break the hold, she mounted the remaining 
statue. She bit her lips and paled as she forced herself down. For a long 
moment the two women raped themselves with the statues. Adrienne was 
babbling, working lower, impaling herself until her buttocks slapped against 
the sinewy wooden thighs. 

Donnathia was pleased. Then she turned to the men. "Suck each other!" 

"No! Oh, God-" Jonathon shook his head violently. He had been watching Jimmy 
masturbate. He made a face. 

Jimmy was panting, close to spurting. "I will, I will, I will!" He wanted to 
please Donnathia. He scrambled the few feet to the paunchy, middle-aged man. 

Jonathon curled up, face covered by his hands. He was an infant. "I won't!" 

Donnathia took up the ceremonial knife and came down and around the altar. 
As she passed Helene crouching, groaning, on the statue's organ, she seized 
Helene's head, tilted her face and passionately kissed the woman. Helene 
shuddered and returned the kiss. Donnathia pulled away and knelt beside 
Jonathon. She pricked his flabby rump. He flinched and opened up his fetal 
ball. "I can't!" 

"YOU WILL!" She jabbed the still bloody knife point to his throat. "Nothing 
is forbidden you. Satan commands that you shed the dead skin of morality. 
There are no rules but service to the Master! YOU MUST OBEY OR DIE! You have 
eaten of the sacrifice. You have given your soul to SATAN! You have no 
choice." 

Donnathia gestured Jimmy close. She clasped his huge erection at the base 
and angled it toward Jonathon's face. The point of her knife still indented 
his throat. She glared fire and hell into Jonathon Dean's mind. The wealthy 
man gave a mewling cry of capitulation and took the large head of Jimmy's 
penis into his mouth. His eyes shut tight. Donnathia laughed evilly. "Now 
suck-suck good! Don't take your mouth off this lovely prick on pain of 
death!" She began pumping the shaft as he sucked inexpertly. 

Within seconds, Jimmy began to tense. "Ohhh ... Ohhhh!" He gasped, "I love 
you!" 

She whispered, "My slave! I possess you!" She kissed him, lewdly, with 
obscene art. Her soft, skilled hand pumped him faster. 

The boy went rigid. He jerked, he spurted violently, gushingly, into 
Jonathon Dean's mouth. The older man recoiled, choking, gagging, and semen 
splattered his face. 

Donnathia laughed loudly. "Now you know how the girls feel, old man!" She 
wiped some of it off his chin with her finger. She presented the finger to 
Jimmy's lips. "Lick it clean, slave, as proof of slavery!" 

The youth obeyed. He sucked her finger enthusiastically. He had not lost his 
erection. The drugs were working well. Even Jonathon still had an erection. 

Donnathia kissed Jimmy again. Her hand stayed on his penis. "I will reward 
you. Lie on your back." 

Jimmy went down to the carpet instantly. 

Donnathia called, "Adrienne, come fuck this one! Helene, come suck off the 
old one. Holly, use the Master that Adrienne has left, and face us as you 
fuck Him." 

Frank wondered what she had in mind for him. She turned to Frank and her 
eyes glowed. "Sit the other Master, slave. Helene has left Him wet and 
slippery for you." 

Frank almost rebelled. Take a nine-inch dildo up his rectum? Donnathia waved 
the knife in a Sign. "Obey ... obey ... " He went to the misshapen, 
grotesque statue. He acted almost without volition. His legs walked, his 
arms pulled his robe off his naked body ... "Facing us!" Donnathia 
commanded. 

He had to climb on backward, awkwardly. He saw Holly already in position, 
screwing herself down on the wobbly black phallus. Her mouth hung open. She 
watched Donnathia abjectly. Frank felt the head pressing against his anus. 
Strange, frightening, alien touch. Slippery. He hadn't taken any of the 
drugs and yet his mind swirled. He felt hot and prickly. He dreaded and 
wanted. He watched Adrienne's opulent vulva swallow the whole of Jimmy's 
very large penis. She rose and fell. Frank watched Helene suck on Jonathon's 
organ as if it were coated with a flavoring she adored. Frank gingerly let 
his weight press the head tighter against his anus. He knew it was going to 
hurt. He couldn't! 

Suddenly Donnathia was before him. She held his head. She kissed him with 
hot, wet, passionate lips and mouth. She breathed into his ear, "For me, 
Daddy. For me!" Her hot, sweet mouth came to his lips again. She put hands 
on his shoulders and urged him down. He lost himself in her hungry, sensuous 
kiss and did not care if the thing tore him open and sent him to the 
hospital. The pain would be good, an atonement for what he had done, for 
what he had allowed, for what he would do ... 

Frank took his supporting hands from the arms of the statue. The black 
phallus breeched his anus! His weight drove it deep, up into his colon. It 
was an agony, a ring of fire where his stretched anal sphincter was strained 
by the massive thickness of the black shaft. Frank howled and reared back to 
lift himself off that impalement. Donnathia seized his arms with amazing 
strength. "NO!" 

His struggling drove the monster even deeper. It hurt! His guts ached! The 
thing felt alien in his body, as if he had been defiled, as if he were 
pronged like some hunk of meat in a butcher's cold room. Lightenings of pain 
surrounded the length in his gut. He gritted his teeth. He breathed with 
quick, moaning rasps. 

Donnathia soothed him. "Be still. Quiet ... quiet. The hurt will fade." She 
captured his eyes. Her blue pupils seemed to expand until they were an ocean 
and his mind was adrift in it. The pain did fade. Only the huge club-like 
presence in his vitals remained. His breathing slowed. He sat relaxed in the 
distorted lap of the wooden devil. Donnathia kissed him again. Her left hand 
drifted down his body ... fingernails lightly brushing his skin ... till she 
found his penis. Frank was astonished to discover-when she clasped him-that 
he was rigid. Abruptly his attention centered in his erection. He was 
throbbing, wanting! 

"For my first acolyte ... " Donnathia sank to her knees. Her red cape spread 
in a wide pool on the carpet. Her incredibly skilled mouth took him slowly, 
exquisitely. She sucked! 

Frank groaned with pure, unchained lust and looked to Holly. She was 
shuddering in a wild orgasm, the whole of that devil's black phallus buried 
in her vagina. Her eyes were rolling and blood and foamed saliva flecked her 
lips. She rocked forward and back, forward and back with panting greed. 

The others, on the carpet, were partly watching, partly engaged in the acts 
Donnathia had commanded. Adrienne crouched over Jimmy, her plump, velvety 
hips gyrating, taking and snaking his huge organ. Her breasts hung down like 
giant white gourds and buffeted his chest with fat softness and stiff 
nipples. Jimmy had eyes only for Donnathia. His gaze swam with love. 
Jonathon climaxed explosively in Helen's suctioning mouth. 

Donnathia seemed to sense Jimmy's utter devotion. She took her mouth from 
Frank's hardness. "Jimmy," she called. "Come and fuck me. Come and give me 
pleasure." To Adrienne she said, "Eat with your mother! Sixty-nine!" 

Jimmy glowed. He crawled to Donnathia, his huge penis wet from Adrienne's 
squishy vagina. With trembling hands he lifted her crimson silk covering 
away from her body. He caressed her smooth, taut rump as she knelt and 
sucked Frank. Jimmy was overcome with the drugs and with love. He probed his 
rigid organ between her round thighs. He found her waiting vulva. He sank 
into her. 

Frank had a grandstand view of everything. He sat with that black pole 
stirring in his bowels with his every slight move, and he watched Adrienne 
attack her mother with a gluttonous mouth, and watched Helene throw off all 
inhibitions and restrictions and fit herself to her daughter and begin to 
tongue Adrienne's juicy vulva. 

Frank looked straight down and saw Donnathia's blonde head moving like a 
metronome, felt her mouth-tongue-throat working in unison on and around his 
throbbing, jerking organ. And Frank saw the slobbering love and lust in 
Jimmy's face as the young man penetrated further, with great, crude lunges, 
till his belly slapped Donnathia's velvety cheeks. 

Jonathon lay where he had spurted into Helen's mouth a few moments before. 
He was on his back, twitching, his penis still erect. An artery pounded in 
his gray-fringed temple. He was breathing heavily, watching, too. 

Frank experienced the seething sensations of imminent climax. He tightened 
on the pole buried in his guts. He gripped the gnarled wooden arms which 
gripped the throne. Jimmy's huge pistoning and pounding into Donnathia was 
jolting her, giving her deep-throat suckings a special quality, a new, added 
sensation to Frank's growing, thundering avalanche of pleasure. Jimmy, too, 
was in the throes of orgasm. He went: "UHHHHHH! UHH! UHH!" His flesh 
quivered with the smashing power of his lunges. His eyes bulged. 

Frank was jetting semen far up in Donnathia's throat. He was 
tunnel-visioned: A red haze focused everything on the black doorway leading 
to the outer basement. For a blinding moment he thought he saw a hideous 
face hanging in the blackness, a scaly skull, with curved horns. And hellish 
red eyes ... 

In the hours that followed, the orgy involved everyone in almost every 
possible sexual combination. In their turn both Jimmy and Jonathon "sat" one 
of the devil statues. Jonathon squealed like the sacrificed pig ... and 
ejaculated as he screamed. 

Donnathia took all three men at once-Jimmy's ever-hard organ in her anus, 
Frank in her vagina, Jonathon in the mouth, to the root. Donnathia lay on a 
velvet pad amid the pillows and was eaten non-stop for an hour, each new 
acolyte vying to bring her to orgasm more often than the others. Helene, 
surprisingly, won. 

Vibrators were brought out-and Holly was stimulated to a series of 
convulsive climaxes. Elaborately shaped and decorated dildoes were brought 
from the cabinets and slipped over exhausted male organs. The orgy went on 
and on ... At dawn the new coven members crept from the house, dismissed at 
last. Donnathia was as energetic and passionate and dominant as ever. Her 
vitality seemed inhuman. 

 CHAPTER ELEVEN 

Two nights later, at three-twelve a.m., Frank was awakened by a cry and a 
body falling on his bed. "Daddy! Wake up!" He jerked up on his elbows in the 
darkness. Beside him, Holly stirred uneasily in her heavy, Seconal sleep. 

Donna had jumped onto his side of the king-size bed. She was crying, 
sobbing, seeking him with a child's need for security and reassurance. She 
was stark naked. He knew instantly it was the old Donna, his true daughter, 
and not the demonic monster who had possessed her for over a week. He took 
her into his arms. The feel of her soft, warm flesh brought memories. He 
stroked her long, loose blonde hair. "I'm here, honey. I love you. I love 
you." 

She sobbed, "It's gone. I'm free." 

"That's good, Donna. That's good." He wondered for how long? When would The 
Other take over again?" 

"I woke up and I was ... I was in my whole body again. It's so wonderful to 
be able to control what I do and say. We've got to get away! We've got to 
go, now! Before it comes back!" 

"Donna, I don't think running will help." 

"Yes, it will! I know if I can get far enough from this house it'll lose me. 
It won't be able to find me again." 

"Baby, if it's from Hell, really, then there's no place on this planet you 
could hide. And if it isn't from Hell ..." He left it unstated. If the demon 
wasn't from another universe, from another plane of existence-then she was 
psychotic, and the demon was in her mind, a complex, powerful second 
personality, and she was in reality a far advanced case of paranoid 
schizophrenia. 

"You think I'm crazy." 

He held her and didn't know, still, what to think. There was no ultimate 
proof immediately available. Only the appearance of a demon, a visible fiend 
from Hell, so horrible and real, so utterly loathsome and solid, that he 
couldn't deny it. Yet even then he would suspect his own sanity and wonder 
about a total hallucination. Or the take-over of the world by the forces of 
Hell ... and his living beyond a natural span of years, without aging. But 
now it was all on faith. And he had always been a skeptic. 

"Please, Daddy, please! Let's all three of us get away! I know it'll work!" 

In her agitation, Donna rubbed her lovely breasts against his bare chest. He 
was naked in the bed. Frank experienced lust. Triggered lust for her body, 
for her cunning mouth, for her honeyed, hot vagina ... He felt his large 
penis begin to harden. He pushed Donna away, insisting "Either way, it 
wouldn't do any good!" 

"It will! I KNOW IT WILL! OH, PLEASE, DADDY! You don't know how horrible it 
is to be shut away in your own head and know what an alien thing is doing 
with your body!" She wept convulsively. She huddled and crept again into his 
unresisting arms. She whispered brokenly, "I ... know you couldn't help what 
it made my body do ... and what it forced you to do ... and Holly ... and 
the others. It's so strong!" 

He nodded and held her. "Go to sleep, baby." 

"Daddy, we've got to leave!" 

"Donna, Holly is zonked out on sleeping pills. We couldn't get her 
conscious. We couldn't get-" 

"WHY DON'T YOU WANT ME TO GET AWAY? DO YOU WANT THAT THING TO GET INTO ME 
AGAIN? DO YOU WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH ME AGAIN?" Donna scrambled out of the 
bed. She was shaking with rage and grief, with fear and dread and a terrible 
suspicion. 

"No, God, no, honey! It's just-Okay. Okay. We'll give it a try. Get dressed. 
We'll leave Holly here. I'll leave a note. We'll go right now." 

"Oh, Daddy!" Donna raced from the bedroom. 

Frank swung his legs out of bed. He switched on a bedside lamp. He rubbed 
his face, stood, and limped to the bathroom. As he emptied his bladder he 
wondered if Donna's urgent need to get away might not be a symptom of her 
"good" side mounting an attack on her "bad" side-a sign of recovery, of 
sanity. Maybe-if the demon was in her mind!-the act of running away would 
serve as a "solution" and the demon would be unable to "find" her again. The 
subconscious was a place of twisted paths and strange lands. 

He re-entered the bedroom to find Donna already returned, dressed in a pair 
of jeans and heavy wool long-sleeved sweater. She turned away. He wondered 
why, and then realized it was because he was naked. He said, "Sorry, Donna." 
He climbed into underwear, slacks, a shirt, and a wind breaker. 

He limped to a small desk and scribbled a note for Holly, who lay sleeping, 
oblivious to what had happened. 

He wrote: "Dearest, 

Donna and I are off on a trip. If not back in a few days will contact you. 
Stay in house for a while. Can't explain. 

Love, Frank" 

Frank knew he was hedging. He was afraid of the demon-real or psychosis. He 
didn't want to commit himself on paper, one way or another. 

The instant he finished writing, Donna tugged at him. "Let's go. Quick!" 

Five minutes later they were on the San Diego freeway, heading south. It was 
three-forty a.m. Traffic was light. The air was cool. 

Frank watched Donna. She sat tense, not speaking, with fists clenched, as if 
dreading an attack, a return of the demon. As the moments passed and the 
miles thrummed under the tires of the powerful Mercedes, she slowly relaxed. 
She asked, "Do you think it'll work?" 

"I don't know, honey. We'll just have to wait and see." 

"I wish you hadn't come into my room that night! I wish I'd never seen that 
man!" 

Frank said nothing. If the demon returned-or surfaced-his words would be on 
record in Donna's mind. The demon would punish him for disloyalty. He 
despised himself and kept silent. He knew he had passed the point of no 
return. When he had kept silent and shielded her-or it-when the police had 
come ... that had been the decision time, the commitment. He was a fool. He 
was evil. He was selling his soul. 

He drove on at 85 m.p.h. and wondered about life and death. And he waited. 
When they neared San Diego, Frank asked, "Want to go on?" 

"Yes, please, Daddy. Farther than this. Can we go to ... Texas or somewhere 
really far?" 

"Yes, but I have to get some rest, Donna. Let's stop at a motel for a few 
hours." 

"But-" 

"We have to stop sometime. If over a hundred miles isn't far enough, then 
..." 

Donna gave in. Her fists clenched again. 

Frank checked them into one of a large, nationally advertised motel chain. 
He registered using his real name, with daughter, and requested a two-bed 
room. He had to practically croon Donna to sleep. He held her, rocked her in 
his arms ... lied to her ... and found her a stranger. What had happened to 
his natural love as father for his child? Something was wrong with him. He 
wanted the demon to return so that ... so that there could be lust and orgy 
again! So that he could serve the Master again! Donna finally fell asleep. 
He stretched out and closed his eyes. He thought about everything. Once you 
rip open the mind and let the unleashed evil spread ... He drifted ... 

"WHY DID YOU TAKE HER AWAY?" 

Frank jerked awake. It was dawn. Donna-no, Donnathia! crouched furiously on 
his bed, naked, eyes blazing! Fear congealed in his gut. "I didn't! She came 
to me and begged me to get her away. She would have gone alone if I hadn't 
agreed." 

"I left this body exhausted, asleep! It could not have awakened!" 

"It-she did. Can't you tell? Can't you see into her memory?" 

"If I must. It takes too much energy to peel the resistances. The tighter I 
control that willful, childish essence, the more I squeeze it and lick it 
away, the harder it is to penetrate. She still has her soul. It like's steel 
when under pressure. I need all my powers for the Plan." 

Donnathia glared. "Why didn't you lock her up until I returned?" 

Frank licked his lips. "I-I wasn't sure you'd be back. And there's no place 
in the house where I could keep her locked up-" 

"The coven room!" 

"She might have destroyed everything." She drilled her eyes into his mind. 
The fiery blue pupils filled the universe. He was aware of a ... slimy 
probing ... Then he was left shaken, and Donnathia was smiling. "Yes ... 
your decision has been made. There is that cold, selfish core in you, the 
power-seeker, the pleasure-seeker. You do want immortality. Death haunts 
you-since Korea." 

"That's about it." He tasted sourness. It was true. He felt a sinking 
sensation. A fear. A black despair. He still knew guilt and shame. He wished 
he could cut that out of his mind and be purely evil, as was the demon. He 
hated being ambivalent, even partially. It tainted his virtues and vices ... 
always. He envied the demon. 

Donnathia reached for Frank's genitals. She played with them idly. "I prefer 
inhabiting a male body. But ... this will do. I find a beautiful young 
female body has many advantages in the manipulation of men. In this world 
men are the power-holders. They are vulnerable to the skillful and beautiful 
young woman." She smiled as Frank's penis erected. "I was away ... reporting 
to my superiors. I have full instructions. I am promised great powers. There 
are plans ... " She lay back on the bed. "Eat your sweet Donna's cunt, 
Daddy, while I tell you what is going to happen." She giggled contentedly. 
Her knees rose and fell wide. She fondled her lovely breasts. 

Frank more than willingly crept into the familiar, soft gorge. He embraced 
her raised thighs and kissed the hot, moist center of her body. His eyes 
closed. He lovingly drifted his tongue along the acid-tangy lips of her 
plump, pink vulva. 

Donnathia moaned gently. "You perform so well. Oh, yes ... " She sighed 
luxuriously and was silent for a moment as he delved and licked with 
passionate skill. 

She said quietly, "I've learned that Jonathon Dean is a good friend of an 
aging, very rich movie actress, Vonda Hartford. Jonathon, like the obedient 
slave to Satan that he is, will take me and you along as friends to a very 
special party Vonda Hartford is giving this week." 

Frank settled into a quick, gentle tonguing of Donnathia's clitoris. He felt 
her body respond. She writhed sinuously as she said, "It's a political 
fund-raising party for Jack Dixon." 

Frank heard. What was going to happen? Jack Dixon was a handsome young 
California Congressman who was being groomed for the governorship. 

Donnathia continued, "Jack Dixon has been chosen by our masters to be the 
prime tool in this world. I will meet him and seduce him. When he fucks this 
lovely body a part of me-an incubus-will enter his body and reside in his 
mind. He will come very soon to be ours!" 

Donnathia began to moan more frequently. "Ahhh ... Frank ... so nice ... 
nice ... Now more tongue ... a little higher on the clit ... ohhh, YES!" She 
went into a series of rippling spasms. Her loins bucked against Frank's 
clinging mouth and darting tongue. When she had passed through the 
overwhelming pleasure, Donnathia said, "It will take the incubus about three 
years to mature, to be a full-grown demon. My child! A part of me will rule 
this country and eventually the entire world as absolute dictator. And I'll 
be at his side. We will marry when this body is eighteen years old. We must 
abide by the current social regulations until we are powerful enough to rule 
as we wish. When God is defeated, when God is dead there will be portals 
created to the black universe, and Satan will rule this sevagram as well." 

Frank kept on licking into her flushed, slippery inner vulva. The swollen 
pink button that was her clitoris vibrated anew under his slithering tongue. 
He listened to the grand plans for demonic conquest of the world and he 
wasn't happy, as he should have been. 

"Jack Dixon will be elected Governor of California. He and I will marry near 
the end of his first term. We will be heralded as a golden couple, a 
sure-bet for greater things ... We'll make him President. With that power, 
with a tremendous spread of covens and wealth, with our Satan-given Powers, 
we'll spread a vast evil upon the planet. Wars. Genocide. Famine. Chaos." 

Frank didn't understand. Wanting power over the world he understood. But 
power for the sake of causing death, pain, and suffering? Was that all-to 
reduce all mankind to groaning misery and anguish? The whole point of the 
Plan? Then he finally understood. Evil was anti-freedom, anti-happiness, 
anti-pleasure in the final result, anti-progress of any kind ... in fact, 
anti-life in general. 

The only pleasure in the Plan involved inflicting pain, humiliation, death, 
destruction, ruin ... The demon in Donna enjoyed physical pleasure and used 
physical pleasure to gain its ends. Once in full control ... all pleasure 
for others would end. 

Frank doubted there would be immortality for himself, or for any other 
"unoccupied" mortal. The first tool of evil was the lie. How joyous and 
happy it must make a demon to lie and be believed! To promise and know the 
promises would be broken! How could he fight Evil? He smiled against 
Donnathia's hot flesh. By using the tools of Evil against its servants. 

He felt Donnathia's hands on his head, guiding, as her hips ground her vulva 
against his open mouth and fluttering tongue. She was panting, going into 
another climax. 

Finally, an hour later, she pushed him away. She yawned. "We will sleep now. 
When I wake we'll drive back home. I have many things to do." 

Frank rolled gratefully away. His jaws and tongue were aching. His physical 
desire had not been drained, but he was too tired and dispirited. He shifted 
to the other bed and slipped under the covers. He sank into a deep sleep 
within two minutes. 

 CHAPTER TWELVE 

It was a big brown Tudor style house that had been built in the 20's. It was 
set back from Beverly Boulevard in Beverly Hills, behind a towering hedge 
and a couple hundred feet of immaculate lawn. The long, capacious drive and 
small parking lot beside the private tennis court and guest house was lined 
with cars when Frank turned in through the wide gateway. A servant with a 
flashlight checked Dean's invitation and directed them to a parking place 
close to a gardener's shed. 

In the back seat of the Mercedes, sitting with Jonathon Dean, her slave, 
Donnathia said eagerly, "I can hardly wait. All this money and power waiting 
to be used. All these ripe souls." 

Jonathon Dean advised, "Please don't ... overwhelm people. Not too soon. As 
beautiful as you are tonight, in that dress ... you'll be the center of 
attention anyway." 

Donnathia was breathtaking. She wore a stunning off the shoulder opaque blue 
gown that shimmered in any light and provided brief hints of flesh tones 
where it fitted smoothly to her hips, belly, thighs, breasts as she moved. 
She wore no bra, nothing under it but sheer pantyhose. From some unknown 
source of knowledge she had applied a subtle combination of make-up: 
eye-shadow, liner, lashes ... lipstick, rouge, powders ... until, 
miraculously, she had achieved an enchanting look of sophisticated 
innocence. With her face, youth, and body, with a tumbling flow of 
honey-blonde hair, she was an incredibly lush Marilyn Monroe type. 

It was Jonathon's mission to guide her, to caution her, to make sure she was 
introduced, sometime during the night, to the dynamic Jack Dixon, and to 
other influential political and financial figures. It was Frank's function 
to stay with her and play her father, to also meet the important people, and 
to advise her. The demon was powerful but inexperienced. The Plan could be 
weakened by a wrong move, a bad performance. 

Donnathia, Frank, and Jonathon walked up the lane of parked cars to the big, 
brightly lit house. Raga rock drifted from a few open windows. Laughter, 
talk. Well-dressed men, elaborately gowned women moved in the large, gayly 
decorated patio beside the looming Tudor bulk. 

Jonathon said, "You'll meet Vonda Hartford first. She's a closet butch and 
she'll try to get you alone for a proposition and whatever else she can get 
away with on the sly. I'd advise not going too far with her at this time, 
though it wouldn't do any harm to let her think you're her kind of girl." 

Donnathia smiled. "I'll add her to the coven." 

Jonathon frowned. "Go slow." He led Donnathia and Frank into the house. They 
found Vonda in the back, by the large, figure 8 pool. She was talking to a 
dumpy, bald man and a lovely young woman with straight black hair and a 
slender, willowy body. 

As soon as Donnathia and her men emerged from the sliding glass doors at the 
rear of the house and started down the stone steps, Vonda turned as if 
magnetized to face them. She smiled warmly with her famous wide mouth and 
sensuous lips. Her green eyes were large, expressive and wise with 
experience. Decades of creams and treatments had kept age-lines and creases 
to a minimum. She looked thirty-five and was actually fifty-five years old. 

Vonda couldn't escape Donnathia's blue eyes. "Ahhh, how beautiful! Dean, you 
didn't at all do her justice." Vonda took two steps to meet Donnathia. She 
took her hands. "You're breathtaking, child." 

"I'm far from a child, Vonda." Donnathia's voice was low, brimming with 
sexual overtones, invitation, promise. 

"Obviously not, my darling." Vonda swayed, locked into those flaring beacons 
of blue. She flushed. 

Jonathon plucked at Donnathia's elbow. He looked appealingly to Frank. 
Donnathia was using too much power too obviously. Like a child in an 
unattended candy store-she couldn't resist. 

Frank said loudly, "I've always dreamed of meeting you, Miss Hartford. I'd 
be very interested to know if you will be making any more pictures." He 
slipped an arm around Donnathia's waist and pulled her off-balance. The 
"spell" was broken. Donnathia turned her head and glared at him then 
realized why he had done it. 

Vonda appeared shaken. She blinked and turned away, recovering. "I want you 
to meet Freddie Biggie and his wife, Ginger." 

Jonathon stepped in smoothly and provided names. Vonda appeared still mildly 
in shock. She finally added, "Freddie builds houses ... lots and lots of 
them." 

Donnathia said, amused, "Mr. Biggie, you should get together with my daddy. 
He makes bricks ... lots and lots of them." 

Frank said, shaking Biggie's hand, "I already sell you about a half a 
million brick a month." 

"Yes-Kaiser. Good brick." 

They laughed. After a moment Vonda took Donnathia away to meet other guests. 
Frank and Jonathon followed closely. The fifth introduction, near the 
heavily patronized bar at the edge of the patio near the smorgasbord table, 
was to a short, thick man with a full beard streaked with gray. He wore a 
brown suit with a vest and gold watch chain. He sipped at a tall reddish 
drink that appeared to be a Gin Sling. 

Vonda said disgustedly, "Professor Carew, how can an educated man drink a 
concoction like that?" She had picked up a Martini. 

"Miss Hartford, Medievalists often acquire strange tastes." He met 
Donnathia's intense blue gaze and narrowed his eyes. He frowned. 

Vonda laughed. She explained, "Professor Carew doesn't have any money to 
contribute to the cause of Jack Dixon, but he does have a big reputation now 
because of his latest best-selling book-" 

Carew interjected, "I am told. I have no royalties as yet." 

"-THE RETURN OF SATAN. His name on our letterheads will impress a lot of 
impressionable, wealthy people, we hope." 

Frank said, "I thought you deep, scholarly, history types kept out of 
contemporary political wars." 

Carew smiled wistfully. "I live in the here and now, even though my mind is 
usually immersed in the there and then." 

"Does your study of the Dark Ages tell you anything about now?" 

Carew shrugged. "Perhaps. I think we'll have a dictatorship in this country 
within twenty years. I hope we can use one of the last few elections to get 
a good man into the Presidency." 

Frank said, "A good man wouldn't take us into dictatorship." 

"The best we can hope for is a man who will be gentle about it and will be a 
benign ruler with some humility and compassion." 

Donnathia said harshly, too loudly, "What do you know of Satan?" 

"I've studied Witchcraft and Satanism and related matters for over thirty 
years." 

"Do you believe?" 

"Occasionally." He looked sharply at Donnathia. He glanced at Frank and 
Jonathon, then flicked his keen gaze back to her. 

Donnathia asked, "Did you know Dainis Webster?" 

"He was a student of mine. Rather unbalanced, I think." 

Donnathia laughed crudely. "And now he's dead and his soul belongs to ... " 
She fixed Carew with her drilling blue eyes. "Who knew more-you or he?" 

Jonathon plucked at her elbow again. She was betraying too much. Vonda 
appeared confused. Donnathia did not sound like a mere sweet young thing 
with a terrific personality and a stunning physical appeal. 

Carew was not overpowered. He flinched but was not captured. He made the 
sign of the cross before his face and murmured, "Lofaham, Solomon, Iyouel, 
Iyosenaoui." 

Donnathia paled. She blinked and looked away. "Was that a spell or 
something?" 

"Yes. A shield." 

Donnathia asked, again in the role of young beauty, "Is it in your book?" 

"Yes. Though it's hard to remember and difficult to pronounce properly." 

She smiled. "Then there's hope for Satan after all." 

Vonda said, "I think people take all this witch stuff too seriously." 

Jonathon put in, "I do, too. Let's get back to politics." 

Carew kept watching Donnathia closely. After a moment of small social talk, 
Jonathon suggested, "Frank, why don't we take Donna around and let the movie 
producers get a look at her?" 

Vonda said, "I can do that far better than you two." She took Donnathia's 
arm. "Would you like to be a movie queen, my dear?" 

Donnathia smiled. "I'm willing to consider it." She dismissed Jonathon and 
Frank with a small, decisive gesture. "Don't worry about me, Daddy. I trust 
Vonda." 

Frank watched them move away. He hoped Donnathia would not make a serious 
mistake. He wanted to talk to Professor Carew alone. He said to Jonathon, 
"Better drift along behind her and be ready to step in if she gets in too 
deep, too soon." 

Dean nodded and moved away. He took a glass of champagne from a passing 
waiter. 

Frank was left with Professor Carew. He asked, "Do you know about black 
masses, invocations ... exorcisms?" 

"Of course. Actually, that's my specialty. I've become famous because of 
Rosemary's Baby and The Exorcist. Suddenly people want to believe in the old 
anti-establishment religions." Carew smiled. "Interesting phenomenon. 
Science is dead; long live the supernatural." 

"Do you think Satanism a real threat?" 

"Yes, I do. I'm now a minority of one, since Dainis was murdered ... by a 
demon." 

Frank's mouth became cottony. His heart thudded. "You think a real demon-?" 

"The police called me over to see ... to see what had been done to him. He 
was sacrificed and his soul sent over to Hell. I think only a demon could 
have done it. I've seen a configuration-a sign-of that kind only once 
before, in an ancient book. A drawing of that design using human entrails 
was made in twelve hundred six A.D. in Rome." 

"Did you tell the police that? A demon murdered Webster?" 

Carew smiled wryly. "Not quite. Just that someone 'possessed'-a twisted, 
warped, psychotic mind did that. Someone who knows the rituals and lore of 
Satanism intimately." 

"And there aren't many who qualify." 

"No. Fortunately, I had an iron-clad alibi-I was lecturing a class of seven 
graduate students at the time of the murder." 

"But a demon! Demons aren't that common nowadays, are they?" 

Carew looked up at Frank. "No. I think it's been hundreds of years since an 
authentic invocation-a raising-of a demon has been accomplished. I think 
Webster managed it somehow. It takes a just-so coming together of certain 
elements." 

Frank licked his lips and asked, "Would a highly neurotic young virgin be 
one of them?" 

"Yes, the prime element. Hysteric young virgins, their minds bubbling and 
seething with psychic energy ... they're the catalyst. Certain combinations 
of sound reach deep into their souls. Certain designs and certain chants 
somehow weaken the fabric that separates our universe from the next. There's 
a leap of that energy-a split nanosecond of penetration, of an opening, and 
a demon-actually an alien mind from that other universe who is probably 
tuned to react to that rare opening-is into our universe ... into the girl 
... and we are all in mortal danger." 

Frank nodded. He decided! "Professor, I've got things to tell you ... " 

* * * 

Vonda guided Donnathia toward the house. "Would you like a bite to eat? I 
can mix you a drink if you like. Does your father mind if you have a mild 
alcoholic drink now and then?" 

"I decide those things. He takes orders." 

"Oh?" Vonda's cool, calculating, yet passionate eyes traveled Donnathia's 
spectacular body to her ravishing face. "Yes, I suppose he does. That's the 
way to treat men, isn't it?" 

"It's the way to treat slaves." 

Vonda laughed delightedly. "You're my kind of girl." She led the way into 
the big, somber house. "Would you like to see the upstairs? I have some 
interesting things you might like." 

"You mean I have some interesting things you'd like." Donnathia smiled at 
Vonda's expression. They were inside the house, standing near the stairs. 
Donnathia leaned close and whispered, "Do you want to kiss my tits and eat 
my cunt? " 

Vonda gasped slightly. "Well ... how appearances do deceive! I haven't been 
this surprised in years." Her famous sensual mouth parted in a wise, knowing 
smile. "Why waste time? We'll only have a few minutes now before suspicions 
are roused to fever pitch." 

"Just ... a lick and a promise." Donnathia started toward the stairs as if 
she owned the house. 

Vonda touched her arm. "By way of the kitchen and the private back stairs is 
best, under the circumstances, Donna." 

Two minutes later, on the second flood, Vonda unlocked a door and Donnathia 
entered a large, masculine appointed bedroom. The bed was massive, 
wood-framed, the walls were paneled in cherry wood, the carpeting was forest 
green, the lamps brass and marble, the pictures were modern non-objective 
oils-strongly colored, vivid, violent. 

Vonda closed and locked the door from the inside. "This is my second, very 
personal bedroom. The frilly one is for show, to buttress my feminine 
image." She smiled wryly. "For the increasingly rare photo interviews asked 
for by the fan magazines." 

"Jonathon Dean said you're a closet butch. It's an open secret in 
Hollywood." 

"We keep these things to ourselves-in the business. Gossip leaks out to the 
jerks, but as long as I'm discreet and keep up my outside image and don't 
wear men's clothes in public that's as far as it goes. Appearance is all." 

Vonda came to Donnathia. She was breathing faster. "You're an actress. You 
fooled me. You're fooling a lot of people. You know the score." She embraced 
Donnathia. 

"Don't kiss me on the mouth! Not on the face -not anywhere above the neck. I 
don't want to be mussed. Get back." 

Donnathia unfastened her sheer, off-the-shoulder blue gown and carefully 
stepped out of it. She was naked but for pantyhose and shoes. She toed the 
blue and silver shoes off and peeled down the pantyhose. She said, glancing 
at the entranced older woman, "I want you naked, too." 

Vonda hastily complied as she feasted her eyes on Donnathia's perfect, lush 
body. 

Donnathia went to the bed and lay on it. She asked, "Do you have any toys in 
here?" 

"Toys?" Vonda pulled her slip up and off. 

"Dildoes. If you're a real butch I want you to lick me up and then fuck me 
hot and heavy till I come." 

Vonda gazed at her, again surprised. "My God, how incredible you are." She 
hastily undid a half bra, pushed down her black panties, and rushed to a 
dresser. She came to the bed with an extremely realistic soft plastic penis, 
complete with scrotum, attached to an elastic flesh-tinted harness. 

She asked, "Is it too big? It's a little over eight inches." 

"This body loves big fat pricks. Come on." 

Vonda moaned with happiness. She stepped into the harness and adjusted the 
wide straps on her hips and in her crotch. The artificial penis projected 
heavily from her loins. 

She climbed onto the bed. She lovingly kissed and fondled one of Donnathia's 
globular breasts and sucked the button nipple. She was trembling. "You're so 
beautiful ... " 

"Get to eating. We haven't got time for romance." Donnathia pushed Vonda's 
famous face down to the waiting, open hollow. 

Before she dipped her wide, sexy mouth to the lightly fuzzed blonde mound, 
Vonda asked, "Why are you doing this?" 

"I love pleasure. You're probably very good at licking girls off ... and at 
using that prick. I can use you in my special, inner family, to serve me, if 
you're really as well connected and influential and knowledgeable as I've 
heard you are." 

Donnathia sank her demonic blue gaze into the woman's mind, through Vonda's 
suddenly dilated green pupils. "Satan lives. I am his servant on Earth. You 
are my servant in all things. I claim you. You are mine." 

Vonda shook as if she had a terrible fever and violent chills. She sucked 
air. She groaned. 

"Yes ... yes ..." 

Donnathia released her. "Eat me!" 

Gasping with shock, but still passionately eager, Vonda closed her large, 
confused green eyes and lowered her head to feast at the moist, entrancingly 
formed young vulva. 

Donnathia soon arched her back. "Ohhh ... yess. Oh, Great Satanachia, this 
one is superb ... skilled beyond the father ... " 

She shivered and panted. She quickly reached a climax. Her stomach muscles 
knotted under velvety skin. She jerked to a half-sitting position. "NOW-THE 
PRICK! THE PRICK!" She flopped back, writhing, and drew her knees up to her 
cushioning breasts. 

Vonda came up over Donnathia. She was gasping, wet-mouthed, as she inserted 
the head of the penis. "My sweet darling ... my master ... " She was barely 
aware of her words. She arched her hips and buried the big dildo. 

Donnathia gripped under her knees with greater strength. Her arms vibrated. 
Her belly suddenly bloated. Her entire body quaked. "Now ... fuck! Fast! 
Make this bed shake!" 

Vonda moaned with joy and complied. She gripped Donnathia's shoulders and 
drove the dildo till she was sheened with perspiration. Fast, hard, deep! 
Each thrust to the hilt, each plunge ending with a slap of flesh against 
flesh. 

From the first giant thrust, Donnathia babbled with pleasure. Internal 
tremors shook her every few seconds. She rocked under the heavy, powerful 
thrusts and impacts. After a long, low, keening moan that climaxed in a near 
shriek of ecstasy, Donnathia cried, "Enough!" She pushed Vonda away with her 
knees and arms. The big plastic penis slid juicily from her. She lay still 
for a moment, breathing deeply. 

Vonda risked caressing Donnathia's perfect body. "We should go back down 
now." She checked her diamond-crusted wrist watch. "It's been over ten 
minutes." 

Donnathia nodded. She left the bed with Vonda and dressed. They helped each 
other attain their former appearance. Donnathia went to the window and 
parted a translucent orange drapery. "I want you to introduce me to Jack 
Dixon." 

Vonda came to the window. She searched the patio below. She rested her left 
hand lovingly on Donnathia's waist. "There he is. Are you on the make?" 

"Yes. He'll be President." 

"Why not go for the man who owns the President? See that fat tub in the 
tight tux next to Jack? That's Grant Ten-Eyk, the President and major 
stockholder of the banks. He, and men like him, buy and sell politicians by 
the dozens. These are the men who really run this world, because they own 
it." 

Donnathia smiled. "Then I'll take both of them ... and more later." 

Vonda stared at the girl in wonder. 

 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 

Grant Ten-Eyk wished his tux collar and tie weren't so tight, and mentally 
cursed his tailor for not letting out the waist another inch ... as he 
talked to Jack Dixon. They stood beside the steps to the side door of the 
big somber house. They were alone, though Grant noticed Dixon's eyes 
wandering. Ungrateful puppy! 

Grant swallowed from his large glass of Scotch on the rocks. "WT&T will be 
glad to underwrite the campaign up to a million." 

Jack became alert. "What do they want?" He automatically ran his fingers 
along the side of his thick blond hair. It was a tip-off gesture betraying 
fear and greed, but he didn't realize it. 

"Most big corporations have to plan a generation or two ahead. My bank does, 
too. In effect, we do the world's planning for it. The world's governments 
don't bother." 

"What does WT&T want?" 

"Nothing at the moment. Aside from desiring that you do not vote to 
dismantle the free enterprise system that has made this country great." 

Both men smiled. 

"I'm not likely to do that. But I'm only thirty years old, Grant. I have 
some idealism burning in my guts, yet. A sliver of self-respect remains. I 
don't like the idea of being owned." 

"We're all owned, Jack. The difference is a few of us are able to choose our 
masters and bargain for price and working conditions." 

"Who's at the top? Who is it who looks down and holds all the mortgages?" 

"Oh ... maybe David R. in this country. There are a few." Grant noticed 
Dixon's gaze shift away. Grant turned and saw that gut-twisting blonde 
beauty who had been turning heads for the past hour. She was still being 
towed around by Vonda Hartford. 

Grant said, "That's an incredible girl." 

Jack murmured, "I'm interested." 

"She looks too young, even for a discreet fuck. You've got to be careful who 
you mess with, Mr. Gubernatorial Candidate." 

"She ought to be gotten away from that old lez. Let's walk over and meet 
her. It's about time." 

"I'll have my staff check her out. Stunning creature." 

"She glows. You notice that? She glows." 

Jack Dixon moved to intercept the path of Vonda and Donnathia. Grant Ten-Eyk 
accompanied him. 

Jonathon Dean lounged near the women and snagged a fifth glass of champagne 
from a passing waiter. 

Vonda spotted the approaching candidate and bank president. She whispered, 
"I think the eventual next President wants to meet you." 

Donnathia whispered back, "It's about time!" 

Vonda said, "Mr. Dixon! You haven't met the real star of my party, have you? 
This is Miss Donna Kaiser. Donna, this is our handsome, dashing next 
Governor." 

Dixon kissed Donnathia's hand. "You're incredibly beautiful." He lifted his 
eyes to hers and was paralyzed-taken-in that instant. He gasped, mind 
spinning. He suddenly knew he had to be alone with this utterly beautiful 
girl. She was the most desirable young woman in the world. She'd make a 
perfect wife. 

Vonda was unaware of what had happened. "And this is Grant Ten-Eyk, only the 
President of the country's fifth largest bank and I imagine this state's 
richest man." 

Donnathia smiled. "I must add you to my closest circle of admirers." 

Grant took the full power of her electric blue gaze. A prejudice was 
hypnotically set into his mind: "Donna Kaiser is available, she is sweet, 
virginal, and she is to be trusted." 

He said huskily, "If I get any closer, my child, I'll be unable to keep my 
hands from admiring you." 

Vonda laughed, "You dirty old man." 

Donnathia turned back to Jack Dixon. "I'm sure you'll make a wonderful 
governor." She held him with her eyes. "I've always wondered what a famous 
man is really like." 

"With your beauty and charm, Donna, you'll be even more famous, soon." 

"I'm the homebody type. I want to be the woman behind the great man." 

Jack Dixon grinned and said, "Get thee behind me." 

Donnathia's eyes widened briefly. "Do you believe in Satan?" 

"I believe in God, as every right-thinking politician does. Therefore, I 
suppose I must accept Satan." 

"Maybe-" Donnathia stopped herself. She then said, "I wish I were five years 
older. I'd marry you." She looked at him admiringly. 

Dixon laughed. "That's very good for the ego. I'm tempted to let you marry 
me now." 

Vonda said, sensing she was losing Donnathia, "Listen to the egotist! She's 
only a teenager, Jack. It would never do to be too close. Your opponent 
would-" 

Donnathia hissed at her, "Shut up!" 

Vonda blinked and paled. "I didn't mean-" 

Grant said smoothly, "Properly chaperoned, with your parents present, my 
dear, I'm sure a friendship with Jack wouldn't be out of line. May we know 
how old you are?" 

"I'm a very mature fifteen, kind sir. My father is over there ... " 
Donnathia looked toward the other end of the crowded patio and spotted Frank 
deep in private conversation with Professor Carew. The older man looked 
grim. 

Her face darkened with anger. She reformed her face. She smiled dazzlingly 
at Dixon. "I'd love to see you again, sometime, whenever ... " 

She glanced again toward Frank and Carew. She continued, "Father and I go 
everywhere together. He owns a brick factory and he makes all kinds of 
money. We live in Palos Verdes. I'll make him make a big contribution to 
your campaign." 

Jack ran his fingers along his temples. "I'll be delighted to see you again, 
of course." He continued brushing his hair with his fingertips. 

Vonda said, "It's a small world. You never know when you'll meet." 

Jonathon Dean came forward. "Donna, your father wants to see you right 
away." 

Donnathia glared at Dean for an instant, then nodded. "Oh, thank you, 
Jonathon." She shook hands with Dixon and Ten-Eyk. When they clasped her 
hand they were further dazzled. She said, "I must go to my father now for a 
moment. Excuse me." 

Frank saw her approach. He had kept an eye on her as best he could, and had 
noted her talk with Dixon and the rumpled fat man who looked, somehow, like 
a power in the world. He said to Carew, "Here she comes. I'll probably have 
to lie like a thief." 

Carew said, "Call me when you can. I'll exit with a polite social smile." He 
did so. 

Frank then pretended not to see Donnathia approach. He drained his glass and 
stared at it for a second. He headed for the bar and came face to face with 
her. 

She asked suspiciously, "Why were you talking so long with that man?" 

"I was trying to find out if he is dangerous. If Webster could raise you 
from Hell, his teacher might know too much." 

"I already know he knows too much! That spell he chanted was like a wall 
around him. I couldn't get into his mind!" Donnathia took Frank's arm and 
strolled with him. She smiled, but her whispering voice was hard with rage 
and command. I can't take any chances. He has to be killed!" 

"Master, that would not be a good idea. Not so soon after Webster's death." 

"I will not do it myself. His soul would be of high value, and I would 
acquire more powers, but the Plan would be endangered. Sooner or later Carew 
has to be killed!" 

"He didn't suspect you. He only chanted that spell as a joke. He's only a 
scholar. He jokes about gullible people who believe in Demonology." 

Donnathia walked in silence for a moment. "Did he mention having any ancient 
books?" 

"No. Actually, we talked mostly about how odd a character Webster was. He 
did say ... I think ... that Webster had claimed to have a copy of a 
legendary grimoire. But it wasn't found in the house. He thinks it was what 
was burned in the fireplace." 

Donnathia chuckled. "I'll wait, then. His death would alarm the police and 
again lead to us ... as having had contact with him: He is no real danger 
without a copy of that book." 

Frank asked, "Did you make progress with Dixon?" 

She gloated. "Oh, yes. He's mine when I want him. It's only a question of 
time and place. But I've discovered that fat man is the real power here. He 
is a buyer. Dixon is a seller, an order taker. I must have them both." 

"What about Vonda Hartford? She's panting after you. In fact, here she 
comes." 

"Vonda is one of my slaves now. Incidentally, Daddy, she's much better at 
licking my cunt than you are ... and she fucks me very well, too. Very 
well!" 

The demon in Donna looked out amusedly at Frank. 

Vonda asked, "You're not leaving, are you ... master?" The word came 
reluctantly, embarrassedly, to her lips. 

"No. Vonda, I want you to get that rich fat man away from Dixon and those 
other people." 

"Those others are his wife and sons." 

"I don't care if they're Mary Magdalen and two Disciples. I want Grant 
Ten-Eyk alone up in that man's bedroom of yours." 

"But, master-" 

"Obey me-in all things!" 

Vonda bowed her head and moved away. 

Donnathia said to Frank, "At our next coven meeting I'll put her through 
Hell. Do you fancy fucking the famous Vonda Hartford?" 

Frank answered, "That would be an experience." 

She chuckled. "Leave here. I don't want you talking any more with that 
Carew. Go home." 

"How will you get home?" 

"Vonda will take care of that. Now, GO!" 

Frank walked away. He was content to leave. He had some thinking to do. 

* * * 

Grant Ten-Eyk wheezed up the last of the back stairs behind Vonda. "I hate 
mysteries. I hate secret meetings at parties. What are you setting me up 
for, you man-hating witch?" He said it fondly. He and Vonda Hartford had 
been friends for years. His bank handled her fortune. And he respected her 
and trusted her. 

"Grant, you'll thank me." She hesitated, then unlocked the bedroom door. She 
knew she was betraying the man ... but Donnathia was too strong ... too 
alluring, too much the perfect sex object. Oh, how glorious it had been to 
tongue that sweet pussy! And how magnificently, how greedily, had the master 
taken the dildo! How wild and uninhibited had been her orgasms! 

Grant entered the room. As he entered, Vonda pressed the key into his right 
hand. She went back downstairs. Grant saw Donnathia standing by the bed. His 
first impulse was to turn and walk out. His instincts and good judgment all 
prodded him to get the hell out of there! But she was a sweet young girl, 
sexy, yes, but she couldn't help that. He had gotten the impression when 
talking to her earlier with Jack Dixon that she was bold, but virginal, that 
she held in her a smoldering sexuality that would erupt with the right man. 
In a way the girl was like a bomb. Frightening. Her blue eyes were amazingly 
expressive ... fascinating ... hypnotic. Grant found himself closing and 
locking the door-and not a word had been spoken. 

When he turned to her she had advanced to the foot of the bed. God, what a 
body! He wanted to rape the girl. He said, "Do you want my help in some way, 
Miss Kaiser?" 

"Yes, Grant. Come here." 

Puzzled, lured, wary, he crossed the room. Her eyes were like beacons, 
guiding him. The closer he got to her the more powerful became her physical 
aura and strange psychic energy. She hadn't turned it on like this down in 
the patio! His mind screamed, GET OUT, GET FREE! 

Donnathia held his gaze easily. She held his mind, his will. "I have 
something I've been planning to give to Jack Dixon, but I'll give it to you 
instead. In a few days I'll have it for Jack, too." 

She reached up to unhook her gown. "Get naked, Grant. You're going to fuck 
me like a stallion!" 

"No ... no ... " He strained to turn away, to break her grip. He couldn't 
look away! He knew his hands were fumbling with his belt. A cold terror 
washed through him. 

"You have a tough mind, Grant. But no mortal can now repel me. I have 
powers." She released her gown. The silky, translucent blue cloth slid down 
off her full, pointed naked breasts. She released his eyes to allow him to 
see her, to watch the unveiling of her spectacular young body. "Now touch 
me. Put your hands on these breasts." 

Beads of sweat popped out on his shiny forehead, on his upper lip. He 
watched, mesmerized, as his hands came up and closed over the large, 
soft-firm, warm cones of flesh. In the back of his mind he knew he was being 
set up; there had to be a camera grinding away in a peephole ... How could 
she make him behave this way? Something in the drinks? Vonda in on it? His 
hands stroked and squeezed and fondled. His hands enjoyed the touching. And 
he began to crumble inside, to give in under the steady pressure of her 
irresistible will. 

Donnathia stood like a queen-a master!-as he caressed her magnificent body. 
She commanded, "Stop!" When his arms fell away, she stepped forward, snaked 
her arms around his neck, pressed against him and kissed him with a 
lasciviousness, an uninhibited, steamy sensuality of warm, yielding lips and 
mouth and tongue so erotically effective that he quivered like a boy. His 
penis was in full erection, throbbing. His arms went around her. 

She slid her hot mouth to his ear and whispered, "You're going to fuck me 
like a stallion, Grant. You'll be a young man again for me." 

"Yes ... I'll try." He worried about his virility. More than half the time 
with Janice, his wife of twenty-four years, he was impotent. But now, with 
this incredible young girl- 

"You will not fail me!" She took his mouth again. Her hands dropped to his 
pants and found his hardness. "You will obey me in all things." 

He capitulated. He had never in his life experienced such a light, 
tantalizing touch. His heart hammered. He had to have her! To hell with the 
consequences! 

"Get naked, Grant." She stepped away and climbed onto the bed. She lay 
waiting, one leg flung wide, the other drawn up, one hand resting on the 
knee. 

Grant stripped to his socks and crawled onto the bed to her. He cursed his 
big belly and spindly legs. But he was proud of his stiff organ. No woman 
had ever affected him this way. He wanted to suck on her nipples and go down 
on her before entering, but she said, "You can do that between times. I want 
you in me now, NOW!" 

He felt her delicate touch, guiding ... he penetrated! He was flushed with 
pride and pleasure. He gasped as he sank into the hot, jellied, squeezing 
world of her deep vagina. 

"Good ... now fuck ... fuck hard ... fast!" Donnathia undulated under his 
weight. 

He responded, panting, plunging inexpertly, out of rhythm, but moaning in 
the sea of resulting sensation. He was lost-lost!-sucked into a sweet, 
slippery, velvety furnace of intense, blossoming pleasure. He could not hold 
back. The chasm opened before him. He fell into a howling, jerking, blinding 
orgasm. He spurted and grunted and whimpered, head thrown back, neck corded, 
and spurted-And did not see the cold blue eyes watching as the lovely body 
worked under him, and did not see the smile. 

Suddenly, in the keen, exquisite, final seconds of his transport, a thread 
of ice seemed to dart into his penis and pierce his insides-up, in one 
frozen instant-up through his body to his brain ... where it coiled and 
seemed to melt. He had never felt such a thing! He collapsed dazed, and 
rolled off Donnathia. He wondered dully if he had ruptured something. Had 
that been a minor heart attack? It hadn't been pain exactly. He heard the 
low, throaty, triumphant laugh so evil ... and looked to her. She was up on 
an elbow, gloating. 

She said, "You're a slave to Satan now. The incubus has been implanted." 

It seemed normal and proper to agree with that. He nodded. A tiny self was 
screaming somewhere. It made him feel uncomfortable; he wished it would 
stop. He wanted to serve her and through her-The Master. He was happy. For 
so many years he had believed in nothing. He had been cynical and skeptical. 
Now he had certainty. He served the Old Ones. 

Donnathia said, "How and when can I get Jack Dixon alone for him to fuck 
me?" 

"I'm having him out for an afternoon on my yacht this next weekend. It's a 
stag cruise for drinking-and fishing." 

"I'll be along as a surprise guest. Who will be the others?" 

Grant recited the names of two other bankers, the publisher of one of the 
three biggest newspapers in the state, a U.S. Senator. 

"I'll have them all! Perfect! The Plan will be furthered even more!" She 
smiled. She flipped his penis disdainfully. "Get dressed. We've been up here 
long enough. We can't have talk, can we? You leave first." 

Grant obeyed. 

 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 

Frank led the way down the ramp to the exclusive Long Spar Club's boat slips 
on the Marina del Rey. It was a hot, sunshiny Sunday afternoon. The huge 
marina was full of moving sails and power boats. 

Donnathia followed a few paces behind. She wore a bright blue mini-bikini 
under an orange and blue playsuit. Her long, wavy blonde hair broke at her 
shoulders and trailed down her back and to her breasts. She wore large 
mirror-lensed sunglasses. 

Frank said, "Slip number ten-B ... there it is." He pointed to a large 
tri-level power yacht at the end of the moorage. It was at least sixty feet 
long. Frank limped forward and was gut-scared. He had lied to Donnathia. 
Grant Ten-Eyk had called and given the name of his club, the slip number, 
and directions to Tonga Way on the teeming, newly developed south side of 
the vast marina. 

But this was a different club, on Easter Island Way, and the yacht belonged 
to a dealer. Frank had rented it. Inside the main cabin waited Professor 
Carew with his book, with his knowledge. The yacht was decked out with flags 
and colorful pads on the bow and in the fantail cockpit. Frank didn't know 
if what they planned would work. It was a deadly risk. 

They reached the yacht. Frank turned to help Donnathia up the portable steps 
to the railing. The boat dipped and sloshed against the moorage from waves 
created by other large boats on their way to the sea. 

She said, "Where is everybody?" 

"Probably down in the lounge getting drunk." Frank urged her down into the 
cockpit. "Or maybe we're early." He followed her onto the boat. This was a 
critical moment. 

Donnathia was suspicious. She moved slowly toward the closed main cabin 
door. Frank got into position behind her. She scowled. "This isn't right. It 
reeks of-" 

The cabin door opened suddenly before her. Short, thick-bodied, bearded 
Professor Carew stood within. "Come in, Donnathia." 

Frank lunged forward and shoved her down into the cabin. She fell, off 
balance, and sprawled against a built-in cabinet. Her head struck the sharp 
edge of the wall cabinet directly above. She staggered and fell to the 
carpeted deck, dazed. It was a stroke of good luck. Carew sprang upon her 
with a pair of handcuffs. "Now, Kaiser! The hood!" 

Frank scrambled into the cabin and snatched a heavy velvet draw-stringed 
hood from a shelf beside the door. He saw that Carew had the cuffs on 
Donnathia's wrists, behind her back. He was chanting, eyes closed, face 
intent. Frank recognized the chant; it was the shield spell the professor 
had spoken in Vonda Hartford's patio at the party. Frank obeyed Carew's 
previously given instructions. He closed his eyes and fumbled the hood over 
Donnathia's head. 

She was becoming aware of what was happening. She kicked blindly, savagely 
at the two men. "You'll pay in Hell for this! You'll die in mortal agony as 
I cut out your liver and eat it before your eyes. Frank, you first, my loyal 
daddy! I'll chew off your balls and stuff your prick into your ass! I'll 
string your guts over your body and send your soul to Satanathia for special 
treatment!" 

She caught Carew on the knee with a lucky kick. He cried out with pain. Her 
shoes were soled with hardened rope. Carew had some nylon cord. They had to 
tie her feet. But he signaled to Frank, pointing to his mouth. 

Frank had forgotten an incantation Carew had had him memorize and repeat 
aloud the past few days, as often as possible. Especially, he was supposed 
to recite it now. He did not feel foolish as he fervently recited the words. 
"Great Jehovam Sabaoth, our Lord, harken to my prayer. Free me from my 
bewitchment. Loosen my sin. Let there be turned aside whatever evil may come 
to end my life." Frank made the sign of the cross and of the fish in the air 
as he spoke. 

Carew signaled and the two men wrestled with Donnathia, to bind her feet. 
They took heavy kicks. She was terribly powerful, in an insane rage. She 
writhed and twisted like a python. She kept trying to work the hood off her 
head. The drawstring was knotted tight under her chin. The cloth billowed 
with her frantic, heavy breathing. Air slots had been cut into the velvet. 

Her voice deepened to a masculine bellow. "XILKA, XIOKA, BESA! I CALL! I 
CALL!" 

The yacht began to rock heavily in its slip. It creaked and groaned. Her 
muscles became like steel. Her skin dripped sweat. Her pulse hit an 
impossible speed. 

Yet Frank and Carew managed to loop the high-strength nylon cord around her 
lower legs and ankles and draw it tight. They knotted it again and again. 

She roared, "BAGAHI LACA BACHABE! COME! COME! COME!" 

Carew gasped, "Her arms!" He grabbed for more cord. 

Donnathia's hands were running blood. The handcuffs had been closed tight 
around her wrists, but she was intent on pulling her hands free even if it 
meant dislocating her thumbs and shredding skin and muscle from bone. She 
whipped and convulsed her body to frustrate them. "NO! NO! I SAY NO! YOU 
WILL DIE! O PRUSLAS! O BAEL! I CALL! I CALL! I CALL!" 

The carpeted deck shook, suddenly, to a great blow from beneath, in the 
hull. The big cruiser trembled. Again the blow reverberated. Again! Carew 
was not used to such extreme physical exertion. He panted and blew. He 
cursed and fought to loop her arms and wrists once more ... once more ... 
The struggle had disarranged her playsuit. One of her bikini top straps had 
ripped loose. Her left breast-full, white, trembling with the pounding of 
her heart-was completely exposed, its nipple a hard pink button. 

It was done. The two men let themselves be thrown away from her powerfully 
flexing body. The terrifying hammer blows continued to shake the yacht. 
Carew gasped, "Cast off. That thing is stronger than I thought possible." 

Frank refused to let himself think. He lurched out of the cabin to the 
sunlight. He limped to the heaving rail, climbed down to the slip, cast off 
the stern line and ran as quickly as he could to the bow lines. The yacht 
seemed alive, in agony, as it yawed and pitched and groaned in counterpoint 
to the massive internal blows. Professor Carew had climbed to the canopied 
pilot house. Huge twin diesel's coughed to life and muttered to themselves. 
Frank got aboard again. He climbed up to the bridge. Carew sat in the plush 
Captain's chair and awkwardly backed the cruiser free of its berth. Frank 
asked, "How far out to sea do we have to go?" 

"Free of this clutter." The professor waved at the thick traffic of small 
craft in the marina. 

"Shall I go down and keep an eye on her?" 

"No! If those bonds can't hold it we can't prevail. Don't get near it. Pray 
it doesn't find a way to use those psi powers in different, more effective 
ways." 

Frank shivered. 'It!' He had never really accepted the demon as an alien, a 
monster from somewhere else. No-he had, but ... He lowered his head. "Oh, 
God. Donna ... " 

It took forty minutes to creep along the traffic lanes in the marina to the 
sea channel and then cruise slowly among the crowds of waterbug-like 
catamarans endlessly tacking toward the outer breakwater, among the other 
powered boats, always yielding to the criss-crossing sailboats, large and 
small. The yacht lurched continually to the endless, smashing blows from an 
invisible force. But the impacts seemed lighter, feebler, than at the 
beginning. Finally, they were cutting through the endless swells, the great 
city only an ugly smear of smog on the eastern horizon. And the erratic, 
weakened blows against the hull and decks ended. 

Carew studied the automatic pilot and set the cruiser on a long, slow 
circling turn. He smiled at Frank. "I've never exorcised a demon before, but 
I'm happy that it's tired." 

"Demon for real? Or malignant, dominant, schizoid persona?" 

"We'll find out. I'm not sure I want final answers, but I've committed 
myself to this madness." Carew rubbed his full beard. "Whatever that is down 
there, it should be dispossessed ... or killed." 

Frank was scared, more than ever before. "I'm afraid to go down there." 

"Yes. I am, too. But we must do God's work." Carew led the way down the 
ladder. 

When they entered the cabin, Donnathia lay quiet on the deck, a small, 
tightly trussed young woman. She stirred and whimpered with discomfort. She 
called in a pathetic, frightened voice, "Daddy? What's happened? My arms 
hurt. I can't see! I can hardly breathe!" 

Frank went to her. "Donna! Oh, baby, I'll-" Carew seized Frank's arm and 
pulled him back. "Don't undo that hood! What kind of fool are you?" 

"The demon's gone!" 

"It's a trick! Can't you think?" 

"Daddy? Who's that? I'm suffocating." She began to cry. 

Frank pulled free of Carew's grip ... but didn't undo the hood drawstring. 
He knelt beside Donnathia. "Honey, the demon is still in you. It's hiding, 
playing games. We have to try to exorcise it-drive it out of you. Do you 
understand?" 

"No. Please, Daddy. I'm scared. I can't breathe! Please, please, please take 
it off!" 

"You can get air, honey. The slits on the hood give you enough air." He 
clenched his fists. "It'll only be a little while, then you'll be really 
free, and it won't come back. It won't make you do awful things." 

"But my arms ... and my legs hurt!" 

Frank could see the blood-smeared cords and handcuffs, the puffed, purplish 
hands, the torn skin and raw muscle. "I'm sorry, baby. Hold on. Hold on. 
It'll all be over in a little while." 

She shivered visibly-and lay still and quiet. 

"Donna?" 

She laughed evilly, confidently. "Exorcism! You trivial fools! I'll make you 
two eat each other's shit for this!" 

Frank began to weep. Carew drew Frank away. "Let's begin." 

They drew a double pentagram, one six inches within the other, on the 
carpeting around Donnathia, using white chalk. They lit white candles and 
positioned them in small white dishes at the points of the outer pentagram. 
They poured pure, non-homogenized goat's milk into small bowls and placed 
them at the points of the inner pentagram. Carew placed small wooden 
crucifixes in the recessed angles of the outer pentagram, the top of the 
cross outward. All the while he chanted in Latin, over and over, "Lofaham, 
Solomon, Iyouel, Iyosenaoui." 

And Donnathia laughed. 

Carew took an old, yellowed sheaf of pages from a clear plastic folder. He 
handled them carefully. He began to read aloud in a strong voice. "O Spirit, 
because thou hast diligently answered my demands, I do hereby license thee 
to depart without injury to man or beast. Depart, I say, and never return to 
this vessel. Be thou exorcised by the Sacred Rites of Magic. I conjure thee 
to withdraw peaceably and quietly, and may the peace of God-" 

Donnathia's peals of mocking laughter overrode his voice for a few seconds. 

"-May the peace of God continue forever between thee and me. Amen." 

"If Webster had read that weak little thing, maybe it might have had a small 
effect. You poor ASS!" Donnathia howled with mirth. 

Frank watched and knew that Carew was wasting his time. If a true exorcism 
was possible, it was beyond his knowledge and skills. Frank sensed that 
vital elements were missing. Some part of the ritual had not been done, some 
invocation probably known only to Webster. Or in that burned volume of 
ancient lore. But Fran kept silent as Carew repeated the spell three times. 

Through it all Donnathia chuckled and made obscene remarks, or told of 
particularly horrible tortures in store for "Daddy" and Carew. 

As he finished the third chanting, Carew's eyes met Frank's. He shook his 
head slightly. He carefully turned one of the manuscript pages. He took a 
deep breath and began reading another spell against evil: 

"Ofano, Oblamo, Opergo. Hola Noa Massa. Light, Beff, Cletamati, Adonai-" 

Donnathia chortled. "I could save you a lot of time, Carew, by telling you 
that Albertus Magnus was an old, gravel-brained idiot. Quoting his 
addle-pated incantations to harm me is so ludicrous as to be beyond 
credence. If you want me out of this well-used cunt you'll have to do far, 
far better than that." 

Carew doggedly continued. He repeated it three times. And he said, "I oppose 
you in all things in all ways, demon. Your words do not sway me. Nor will 
they, sway the father of the girl you hold in thrall." 

"Frank'll get tired of this game sooner or later. He'll make a deal. We'll 
bargain. Won't we, Frank? How about thinking about this: once I get my 
incubus planted in Jack Dixon, I'll let you have Donna back for ... oh, six 
months out of the year, for the first year or two." 

Frank shouted, "NO! GET OUT OF MY DAUGHTER!" 

"Sure you want me out, Daddy? I'll let you fuck her all you want. Will she 
let you? I'll bet you'd like to suck this nice naked titty right now, 
wouldn't you?" 

"SHUT UP!" 

Carew said, "We must continue until every ritual and exorcism is exhausted." 

It was twilight. The big cruiser plowed on through the ocean swells, 
circling, circling, circling ... Frank went up to shut off the diesel's to 
insure fuel to return. He turned on the lights. Hours later, as the yacht 
drifted and rolled easily, Carew began the twelfth chant. His voice was 
raspy. 

Frank sat tiredly in a chair in the candlelit cabin and dispiritedly watched 
and listened. He noted that he would have to replace the candles again. They 
were guttering low in the dishes. 

Donnathia said, "Neither one of you really believe in God. You don't believe 
in anything beyond bricks and books." 

Carew began, "I abjure you, ancient serpent, by the Judge of the living and 
the dead, by the Creator of the universe, who has power to send you to 
Gehenna, that you depart forthwith from this child. He orders you cursed-" 

"And that one is so pathetic! It's a Seventeenth Century exorcism to drive 
out a poltergeist, not a full-fledged demon, with powers. Anything left, 
Carew?" 

The professor slumped. He stared down at the hooded, bound girl in 
disarrayed orange and blue playsuit and bikini. He watched the exposed 
breast rise and fall with her breathing. Carew put the old manuscript back 
into its plastic folder. He motioned for Frank to follow him. He went out 
into the fantail cockpit. He sat in the luxurious, curved lounge seat at the 
stern. Frank sat beside him. 

Carew looked at the ocean, at the glow of light on the eastern horizon. He 
finally said, "Nothing I can do will drive that thing out of her." 

"I wish I had a drink." Frank stood up and limped around the cockpit. A slow 
anger was growing in him. 

Carew said, "I've done everything I know. Maybe if we really did believe in 
God ... " 

"Oh, shit! I believe there's a real demon in her. She couldn't have done all 
that by herself! I believe in that demon, and I believe in Satan and all 
that stinking, evil nest of things in Hell ... and I believe in God! This 
business has made a believer out of me. I'm convinced." 

Carew sighed. "I think I am, too. But the exorcisms haven't worked." 

"Why not? You said they would. 'One of them is sure to work,' you said." 

"The knowledge required died with Webster and burned with that precious 
book. The fool! He should have shared it ... put it in a vault ... in a 
university." 

"That doesn't help us now, does it? What do we do-keep her tied up, with 
that hood on her head till she dies? We have to go back to the Marina with 
this boat in the morning at the latest. You've got your work to get back to! 
I've got a business. WHAT DO WE DO?" 

"If you believe in God and Hell and Satan and that demon, Frank, you have to 
believe its threats and promises. We can't let it loose again." 

Frank stared at him. He scowled. "So we're sitting on the horns." 

"Very sharp horns. It is almost kill or be killed." 

"I can't kill my own daughter ... and I can't let you do it." Frank ran his 
fingers through his hair. "Jesus!" 

"I said almost. There's one last way of driving a demon from a loved one. 
It's very risky, and only you can do it." 

"Well, you son of a bitch, tell me what it is!" 

"It's ancient lore that a demon cannot live in a dead body. If it is caught 
in a dying person it must leave or die with that person." 

"What are we supposed to do-dunk her over the side till she almost drowns 
and hope the demon is scared enough to leave her?" 

"That's one way, but it lacks fine control. The thing in her won't leave 
until absolutely convinced its host body is beyond saving or is already so 
far gone that life cannot return." 

"God damn you, Carew! Say what you're getting at!" 

The professor hesitated. "This is madness. I don't want this to be 
happening." He rubbed his hands continually. "I want out. This whole 
venture-" 

"Tell me, or by God, I'll throw you overboard!" 

"All right. You have to strangle her. You have to convince it that your only 
out, to save yourself and me and ... the world ... is to kill her and it in 
the process. And you have to do it! You have to mean it! You have to be 
willing to kill her, Frank. If it works it will work because you are utterly 
convinced that her death is necessary and worth the sacrifice. You have to 
face the probability that if the demon leaves it will still be too late to 
revive Donna." 

Frank sat heavily on the seat. "What happens to the thing once it leaves her 
body?" 

"It cannot survive without a host. Only an invocation of a special kind with 
a special host waiting, under special circumstances will permit it to enter 
another person. It will be sucked back into the black universe. It cannot 
stay in our universe. It has no choice." 

Frank put his face in his hands. After a long time he asked, "What do we do 
if she dies?" 

Carew sounded sick. "We confess to murder and go to prison. Or we weight the 
body, dump it, and we report your daughter missing at sea. We hope we get 
away with it." 

Frank began to weep. 

Carew sat and watched the ocean and the glow in the sky to the east. After a 
few minutes he went to the side rail and vomited. When he had finished he 
went forward, into the cabin, and on into the bathroom. He returned five 
minutes later and sat in the same place. He said, "She's calling for you." 

Frank said, "I'm so scared I'm about to shit in my pants." His voice shook. 

Carew said, "I just did." 

They both laughed hysterically. 

When their laughter subsided, Frank slumped low and stared up at the sky. 
"We're all monsters. God bless us, every one." He took a deep, shuddering 
breath and stood up. He entered the main cabin. Carew followed. 

 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 

She was sobbing, obviously in great pain, when Frank stepped down into the 
lounge. She heard him and cried, "Daddy?" Her voice was anguished from 
inside the hood. Frank winced at the sight of her raw, purple arms and 
wrists where the handcuffs and cord bit deep. Her feet, too, were swollen 
and purple. 

"Yes, baby." He knelt beside her. He covered her bare breast with part of 
her torn playsuit. 

"I can't stand it anymore. I can't! Please untie me!" 

"I will in a few minutes, baby. It'll only be a few minutes more. I have to 
do something, then it'll be all over, one way or another." 

"What? What are you going to do?" 

Frank swallowed. His throat was tight. His guts were watery. Did he have to 
tell her? He looked to Carew. The professor nodded. 

"Honey, I have to ... There's only one way to kill the demon. I have to kill 
it to save everything. To save myself and the professor and the country and 
the ... the world ... " His voice broke. 

"I hurt so much! I hurt! I don't care anymore. Please-do it. I don't care 
what it is. It can't hurt anymore." She sobbed and moaned. Her voice was 
weak, watery, jagged with pain and tears. 

Frank closed his eyes and put his hands around her soft, slender throat. He 
gasped, "I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry, I'm sorry ... " 

She jerked and he felt her pulse immediately begin to pound. The demon 
spoke. "Before you try that, Frank, I'll tell you I won't let go until your 
precious 'Donna' is gone beyond recovery. If you want a vegetable for a 
daughter, go ahead." 

"I'd rather she was dead than alive somewhere in her brain while you go on 
to-" 

"Evicting me from this body won't save your world, O noble father." 
Donnathia laughed. "I took Vonda's advice and planted my fourth incubus 
where it will do more good for Satan than in a mere politician. This 
civilization is ruled by big money, not big swords as in the ancient past. 
My latest incubus is nesting in the fat old body of the president of the 
banks. I made him fuck me at the party, after you left." She laughed again. 
"That 'child' will help carry on the Plan. And when it is mature, it can 
plant an incubus of its own in an appropriate young woman of good social 
position, and she in turn can marry an appropriate up-and-coming politician. 
Maybe even Jack Dixon after all." 

"You're lying!" Frank squeezed Donnathia's neck. His thumbs began to sink 
into her throat. "You haven't-" 

The demon wheezed, cackling with amusement, "I've planted four incubi, 
Daddy! We never tell mortal allies everything! I have 'children' in Jimmy 
Massinsky ... Jonathon Dean ... Grant Ten-Eyk ... and in YOU!" Her chest 
heaved to draw a hissing breath and to expel it in a horrible travesty of 
laughter. 

"YOU'RE LYING!" All his rage and hate and fear flowed into his big hands. He 
vaguely heard Carew praying, chanting. The demon was lying, had to be lying 
... 

Frank suddenly realized he had to see her eyes. He had to know when the 
demon had left her. There was no chance of saving Donna otherwise. He kept 
one hand tight on her neck, constricting her breathing. With the other he 
plucked at the knotted drawstring. 

Abruptly, Carew was beside him, pulling his hand away. "What are you doing? 
No! It'll have you! No! I warned you, you can't uncover the eyes!" 

"I have to see when to stop. I have to!" He pushed Carew away. 

"NO! YOU POOR FOOL-" Carew's face was twisted with desperation. He lunged 
for the suitcase he had brought aboard. He pulled out a .22 calibre 
nine-shot target pistol. 

Frank surged to his feet and tore the gun from the smaller, weaker man's 
hands. He knew what he had to do. A plan of his own, every contingency 
thought through, was in his mind. Pure. Clear. Absolute. He shot the man in 
the stomach. The sound was flat and sharp. 

Carew doubled over and fell, groaning. "My God ... " He turned amazed eyes 
up to Frank. "You-" 

Frank shot him between the eyes. The bullet hole was small and round and 
deep for an instant, then it overflowed with blood. Carew lay twitching. His 
fingers scrabbled in the carpeting for long seconds before becoming still. 

Frank was panting. He knelt. He took a pen knife from his pocket and cut the 
drawstring of the hood over Donnathia's head. His hands shook. Donnathia was 
gasping, recovering from the strangling squeeze of his strong hands. 

Frank prayed, "Dear God, let me win. Let me do your will in this. Let me 
have my daughter. Please God ..." He pulled the hood away. 

"NOW!" She crowed. Blue hell burned in her eye sockets. 

Frank reeled on his knees. He was impaled by her searing gaze. He whimpered. 

"You are a fool. Fools die! Untie me! Cut me free!" 

Frank's mind was ablaze, dazzled, floating ... He was dizzy. But a core 
survived the onslaught and resisted. If there are demons there is Evil. If 
there is Evil, there is Good. If there is Good, there is a God. If there is 
a God I will serve Him! 

"OBEY ME! YOU WILL OBEY ME IN ALL THINGS!" 

But the knife dropped from his hand. 

"OBEY ME! OBEY ME!" she screamed. Her fiend's eyes glared. 

I will serve Him! 

Frank's hands closed around her neck again. He squeezed. He was still 
captured by her fire eyes, but he tightened his grip. He wept and gasped and 
trembled-but he pressed his thumbs brutally deep into her throat. 

A great blow crashed against the yacht's hull. The deck shook. The cruiser 
heeled over ten degrees. Another great impact! Another! The lounge resounded 
to the heavy, terrifying thuds. 

I will serve God! 

Donnathia's blue eyes bulged. Her face darkened and mottled. But the hate 
and Evil were still glaring out at Frank. Then the hammer blows against the 
boat stopped. 

Suddenly he felt a terrible pain in his chest-an agonizing pressure around 
his heart. A fist closing. And he knew it was the demon! And he knew it was 
a last, desperate attempt to survive. It might kill him, but the boat would 
be spotted in a day or two, and she would be found, apparently a victim of a 
homicidal father ... She would have a story ready. 

The pain in his chest was unendurable! I will not yield! He hunched and 
glared down into the glazing, dimming blue eyes. She began to convulse. The 
body voided urine and feces. The pain slackened. Frank shouted in his mind, 
Leave! Leave her! His fingers were iron claws embedded in her throat. He 
shook the limp body. He bellowed aloud, "LEAVE HER! LEAVE HER!" He sobbed 
and held on and on. Then ... he experienced a coldness. An unseen essence 
rushed from the body of his daughter. For an instant it enveloped him in a 
cloud of blackness of mind ... and was gone. 

He painfully straightened his fingers and took his hands from the corpse's 
bruised neck. He knew there was no hope. But with an anguished cry, he 
slammed his fist down on her chest. Again! And he fastened his mouth on hers 
and forced air into the still lungs. There was no response. He gave up after 
half an hour. 

He turned off the yacht's lights and sat in the fantail staring at the night 
sky until dawn. His head felt funny. Then he weighted both bodies and 
lowered them into the sea. He cleaned the lounge. Then he started the 
diesel's and headed back to the Marina. 

His service to God wasn't complete. He had three incubi to kill, and then 
... He frowned. His head hurt. Wasn't it four to kill? Hadn't Donnathia said 
...? Headache! Three. Yes, three. 


 The End
