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Megan fingered her cunt idly, drifting through her memories. That night was like a whole other world had been opened to her, a side of herself awakened that she still could barely admit to.

The boyfriends she had had after that never satisfied her. They were boring. Nothing had been as good as that crushing feeling of being slammed against the toilet, a lewd little semen receptacle for an unending train of men coming in.

Utterly degraded. Her relationships usually fell apart when she realized that she couldn't feel that same thing again. Megan got up and pulled on some panties, then tumbled into bed.

Her shift had left her dead tired, and in no time she had dropped off to sleep. Her dreams stirred with thoughts of the movie that girls had been watching, of a beastial creature chasing her, catching her up and then slamming her down, grinding her into mud with its body before ramming its turgid prick inside her.

Just a little fucktoy, just a slutty piece of meat to be raped and used and filled with cum. Megan kicked off her shoes as the door shut behind her.

Fucking John. She should quit. She was going to quit. She wasn't going to work anymore long shifts. She'd tell him off to his stupid, handsome face and then throw down her apron.

She sighed. It's ok. Ashley was as sweet-hearted as they came, aside from an incorrigible urge to tease her older sister.

Megan tousled her hair then went into the kitchen. Megan wondered if Amanda had done anything else in her room today.

She'd check later. She had already resolved to get another camera for Ashley's room. If her year-old daughter was going to lose her virginity, Megan wanted to watch.

The thought stirred a shiver in her pussy. She looked out from the kitchen, seeing the back of Ashley's head on the couch.

She loved her girls more than anything, and tried to ignore the dark, tiny part of her that whispered how wonderful it would be to see them experience what she had.

Amanda was the age Megan had been when she was raped. Ashley was almost there. She wondered what the girls would say if they knew how their conception had come about, if they could understand the acts that led to their existence.

Megan lost herself in her memories, staring at Ashely. She had been Two years, and she had never quite recaptured that feeling of vile bliss.

Megan could barely control her lust when she thought about that night. It had become too much for her. She walked along a narrow street in the filthiest section of downtown.

The cab driver had shaken his head when he dropped her off, no doubt imagining what would happen to a teenage girl here in the middle of the night.

That was fine. It was what she wanted. Two years, and she had grown desperate. Clutching her coat nervously, she turned down an alley behind a seedy club.

She had heard only rumors. She wanted to see for herself. The flourescents flickered ominously overhead in the darkness.

She followed the wall of ruined brick and plaster until she came to a black door and a shuttered window with a neon sign overhead.

She stared back defiantly. His eyes travelled up and down her body, taking in her trenchcoat. They were red and watery, and had a sunken, unhealthy look.

They stared at each other in silence again. Finally he grinned and pressed a button. The door unlocked with a click. It was loud inside the club. Music pulsed through the walls oppressively.

The walls inside were disgusting, paint flaking off, tainted with mold and unidentifiable stains. Megan followed the man when he beckoned, descending a narrow set of stairs lit only by a flickering neon tube.

Her hands tightened into nervous fists. Maybe this was a bad idea. She nodded and stepped in, and he followed and closed the door behind them. The filthy booth was even worse than the hallway.

It smelled of garbage and bodily fluids. The music was quieter here, but it still thumped through the wood and plaster.

He pushed past her and gestured rudely to a waist-high plastic divider with a semicircle cut out of the top. A similar divider hung suspended from above by a cable.

Both cutouts were lined with fuzzy red velvet. He patted the edge of the circle, wearing an unsettling smile. Megan took a deep breath and took off her coat.

She had worn her sluttiest clothes, not that it mattered: an obscenely short schoolgirl skirt, and a narrow strip of white cloth around her chest, tied in front.

She stepped forward, then bent over the divider, placing her waist in the semicircle cutout. An electric whine came from overhead, and the top divider lowered over her waist, fitting the top half of the circle to her body.

She was trapped, bent over at 90 degrees, pilloried with her butt hanging proudly in the air in the back half of the room.

The wall was not even an inch in front of her nose, and a crusty 2-inch hole hovered directly in front of her face. A slanted surface beneath her provided a place to rest her hands and support herself.

She felt a squeeze on her exposed buttcheek, the man unable to resist a small sample. She shivered. Then she heard him leave the booth.

The anticipation quivered in her gut, oscillating between excitement and terror. There was no getting out of this thing until he came along to free her.

She was helpless, her year-old body perfectly positioned to be used. The minutes ticked by. She began to struggle.

The stirring itch that had been building in her pussy all night became frantic. She wanted to rub it, needed to, needed something, but the upper half of her body was cut off by the divider.

She kicked a leg impatiently. That sound must be the door opening. She froze. Had someone come in? Were they looking at her year-old pussy right now, ready to fuck it, ready to use it?

She wiggled her hips as much as she could, which was barely at all. Come on, she thought, do it. Fingers on her skirt, lifting it up, digging into her buttcheeks.

She shuddered with delight. No turning back now. Her body was offered up, bound, nothing more than an object to be used. She quivered expectantly.

The fingers explored her genitals, sliding gently along her lips, then pushing inside, feeling the ample juices that were already flowing.

She squeaked at the sudden intrusion, and almost came early. She was so wound up. She needed a cock in her body, needed a thick prick rammed into her tight little year-old cunt until she screamed.

Use me, fuck me. She whispered the words, panting. A tip of pulsing velvet pressed against her sopping lips, then slid inside.

She jerked in her bonds. It was so wonderful, feeling that delicious firmness pressing up into her, knowing it was a stranger, that they had come to use her little girl's body and then throw her away.

It slammed forward suddenly, jolting her hips against the divider, making it shake. Megan shook with it, muscles jerking when each slam came, then cringing expectantly on the outstroke.

The man fucked her pussy eagerly from behind, not knowing who she was, not knowing she was 16, not knowing that she was definitely ovulating.

She had timed it. It was why she chose today. Raw pleasure washed her body, just as it had two years ago when she had been raped in the bathroom.

Just a little girl, worthless, good for nothing more than a quick fuck. Just a little semen toilet. Her head jerked in a rhythm, chin bouncing.

The hands grabbed her skirt from behind, anchoring her waist as it slammed in roughly again and again. Megan shrieked, though nobody would be able to hear her through the walls of the booth.

It was bliss. It was everything she wanted. The pumping organ smashed in one last time and held steady as a stream of white heat pumped into her belly.

She felt it flow upwards, squirting chaotically, forced into the pinhole of her cervix and up into her womb. Her climax exploded in her head, sending her whole body into convulsions.

She reeled, pink tremors breaking her senses apart like glass and flinging the pieces away. Megan came harder than she ever had in the last 2 years.

The thick cock pulled out, and Megan whimpered. She shouldn't have worried. It was soon replaced by another, eager fingers fondling her rear and her genitals before the turgid cock pressed against her lips and thrust inside.

She wondered if the price was reduced for sloppy seconds. The eager meat crammed inside obliterated the thought, slamming home roughly, banging into her year-old cunt with gusto.

Megan's second orgasm was building inside when something appeared in the hole in front of her face: a prick, proudly erect, stuffed through the glory hole and waiting.

She tongued it, tasting the salty musk. It tasted like sweat and garbage. She inhaled the scent, basking in it, savoring it, then took it into her mouth.

Megan was fucked from both ends, the pricks stuffing her mouth and pussy banging zealously into her tight tunnels, unwittingly enjoying the pleasures of her soft, year-old body.

She writhed, feeling like skewered meat. The cock in her mouth suddenly exploded on her tongue, rich batter spraying like a hose, pumping over her face when it pulled out.

She coughed and blinked, trying to wipe the semen from her eyelids, then convulsed when a boiling rush of male seed spurted up into her womb again from behind.

The cock in her mouth was replaced by another, even more disgusting. It was short, fat, and had a misshapen head.

She recognized the crusty granules of smegma behind the foreskin an instant before the whole thing stuffed itself into her mouth.

Another cock entered her from behind. Megan kicked her legs and scrabbled against the wood with her arms. The tiny little schoolgirl part of her that wanted it to stop was dwindling away to nothing, replaced by the swelling dark side of primal lust.

Her waist jerked in its restraint. She worked her lips and tongue over the fresh cock in her mouth, almost wretching on the foul odor. She had never tasted anything so vile, so utterly delicious.

This was what she craved. The dirtiest cock, the ugliest one on offer, that was what she wanted inside her. Grimy, filthy, short, ugly. Give it to me, she pleaded.

They obliged. The glory hole produced round after round of bristling penises in every shape and size, a squalid procession of pricks that thrust eagerly between her lips.

She couldn't have avoided them even if she wanted to; there was barely any room to move her head. Their pumping vigor was matched by the thrusting thunder from behind, as man after man took their turn in her, grabbing her little hips, lining up, thrusting into her sloppy teenage pussy and leaving their own donation inside.

She felt cum running down her legs all the way to her thighs, warm globules of animal passion boiled and baked and then spurted into the well-used little crevice of a worthless slut of a girl.

She tasted different flavors of semen in her mouth, rolling her tongue to compare them, sampling them like a bouqet of wine.

Orgasm after orgasm raced through her, overwhelming her body, slamming into her consciousness and obliterating every thought but one: the feverish dream of all that semen in her cunt, being squished up into her womb, billions of sperm swimming eagerly towards her egg, pushing, forcing, penetrating it, blossoming into new life in her gut.

Each fresh spew rocked her to greater height of ecstasy, imagining it. Her cunt had been flooded full a dozen times over.

Her belly sloshed with semen. And still she licked, still she sucked, still she quivered and wiggled and eagerly welcomed each fresh prick into her body, losing herself in the primal carnal tempest.

Hours, maybe. She had lost track of time. How many dozens of men had fucked her? It didn't matter. She felt satisfied for the first time in years.

The sallow-eyed man entered and slapped her bottom before pressing the button to raise the divider. Groaning, she stood up.

Her spine felt permanently bent. It seemed as if being bent over taking cocks inside was her body's natural orientation, and it was standing up that was unnatural.

She smoothed the skirt over her hips, trying to massage the aches away. He left her then, left her in the booth, a used-up little cunt of a girl, defiled and forgotten.

She shivered, feeling sated at last. Her bottom was sore. Her jaw hurt from having been stretched all night. And she had never been happier.

She left the paper towels on the floor. She wanted the cum on her legs, wanted the evidence of her degradation all over her.

Let the world see what a depraved slut she was, what a contemptible piece of trashy little girl, good for nothing more than serving as a community cum dumpster.

She climbed the stairs and left. She didn't realize until later that she had forgotten the money. I looked back and she wasn't there.

I was running so fast. But it was weird You're big enough to know monsters don't exist. Nothing's coming for you. It was just a dream.

So lovely, Megan thought, running a finger affectionately down her daughter's cheek. She had been thinking of Ashley's conception all evening, of the repulsively arousing things she had done that led to this sweet little girl coming into her life.

Megan got up and turned out the light, then shut the door behind her. After Ashley had been born, she had resolved to be a good mother before everything else.

It had been so much harder than she had first realized, but she hoped she had raised them well enough. She had managed to suppress that dark side of her for years, the roiling, burning lust that commandeered every part of her and pushed her to such repugnant humiliation.

That had been the hardest part of all, denying herself. She had almost given in several times. It seemed to grow worse each year. Amanda was already in bed.

She had let the kids stay up late. Megan headed to her own bedroom and locked the door behind her. She stripped, sat in her computer chair, typed the password to her screen saver, then hit one of her favorite bookmarks.

The site popped up on the screen. Black background with red lettering. Cheesy flames. A few cartoonish demons decorated the background.

Amateur, but she didn't come here because the site was pretty, she came for the stories. Satan's Spunk. Loli Warriors in Hell.

Erotic stories were one of the few outlets where she could let herself loose. She had found this site by a random search.

It had contributions from various authors, all of them demonic-themed tales usually involving rape and young girls. It had been like finding a treasure.

There was a new one. She clicked the link, and the text popped up on screen. They dismissed her, saying she was only 12, not yet old or powerful enough for the proper control.

So one night, under the cloak of an invisibility spell, she slipped into the school's library and stole a thick tome emblazoned with arcane patterns and a large 5-pointed star.

Not bad. Megan read on, intrigued by the little girl who shared the same name as her. The girl had stolen the arcane book and used it to set up a summoning circle.

The story included an elaborate incantation that the girl recited out loud, including a surprisingly detailed description of the occult ritual she performed.

Most of the story was given over to the ritual's description, in fact. Megan played with her pussy absently. Despite the cumbersone details, the story had a great buildup.

The little girl had to take off her clothes and offer herself in the center of the circle. There was a ritual focus she needed to use, an onyx pyramid that would contain the spell's power.

The book promised that a being of great power would appear, and it did - a massive demonic fiend of bulging muscles and terrifying presence, sporting a magnificent phallus of overbearing proportions.

The frightened girl made a mistake and her spell broke, and the story raced along to its climax, young Megan discovering how far she had overreached and how dire the price.

Her rape was exquisitely described and Megan read the story to its end, fascinated, enjoying the slow flush of pleasure that crept up from her crotch.

Picking her up again. The last shreds of Megan's tattered clothing fell away. She squealed with fright as the turgid demonic prick, bristling with spikes, lined up at her pussy.

Megan rubbed furiously, losing herself in the tale. The girl was doomed to be an infernal plaything, a toy to be used. She rubbed her flowing juices along her own pussy lips, flicking her clit, then shoved a finger into her sucking tunnel.

Just thinking about it, about the massive demon prick thrusting into the innocent girl, descrating her, coaxed the swirl in her groin into a wild frenzy.

She added another finger and sunk in to the second knuckle, rubbing furiously, and found the special spot that felt best.

Her orgasm washed through her, a carnal explosion focused on the singular scene of the young girl's demonic defilement. Ecstasy rocked her in her chair, shaking her limbs.

She wished she was that girl, taken by an overwhelming power, abused, reduced to a pumping cocksleeve for a demon king.

She came down slowly, vibrating like a violin string. Her arms and legs went slack, one finger still buried in her cunt.

The blue light of the monitor played over her naked body as she sat, her heavy breathing competing with the sound of the computer fan.

A woman? Megan had figured most erotic stories were written by men. Maybe that was naive. There was a link next to the name.

Her mouse hovered over it. She had liked the story, but she wasn't really the kind of person to talk about them. Aw hell, she thought, what's the worst that could happen?

She clicked on it, and an email window popped up. Maybe just be honest. I liked how she was raped and used up. Something like that happened to me.

It's a bit heavy on the spell details. There are a lot of them. The candles and the bowls and the onyx thing and all that.

Hope you write more stories. She signed it, then hesitated, before forcing herself to hit send. There were more stories here; the site was popular.

She browsed around by couldn't find anything else by a Carol C. A plink sound came after a few minutes, signifying a new message. She opened it.

Carol had responded. It was fun to write it. The spell is an essential part of the story. I couldn't have left any part of it out.

Life is stranger than fiction sometimes, wouldn't you say? It's funny what we can discover if we poke around and try strange things. Megan scratched her head.

Life was stranger than fiction? What did that mean? Carol had a couple links in her email signature - her personal blog, and some website Megan had never heard of: demonsdomain.

She clicked it out of curiosity. It was an occult storefront. Red candles were on sale apparently, in bulk packs of six hundred and sixty six.

Megan browsed around. The section for 'Incantations and Spells' caught her eye, and she clicked. Often bought together with: chalice and ritual bowl 2-pack.

Maybe it would be good conversation piece, she thought. So what's that black thing on the mantle? Oh it's my demon summoning focus. She smirked and, on a lark, decided to buy it.

After entering her credit card, Megan yawned and tumbled into bed. Sordid thoughts of demons violating young girls danced in her head as she drifted off to sleep.

Amanda was slouched down on the couch in an undignified manner, one leg on the coffee table, causing her skirt to hike up.

Megan saw a flash of deep purple between her daughter's legs. I'm the meantime, if you want to wear something for your 'boyfriend', stick with your own clothes.

Amanda blushed furiously. Megan still hadn't had that talk with her. She kept meaning to, but, well, a part of her didn't really want to put a stop to it.

The dark part of her. She should make them wear condoms or something. That was the responsible parent part of her. But the thought of Amanda with her belly swelling up with a baby Megan put the thought away and slammed the door behind it.

She'd talk with Amanda. Seriously this time. It was movie night. Megan loved the weekends, when she didn't have to work and could instead be with her daughters.

She popped some popcorn in preparation, and the three of them snuggled up on the couch together. It was the latest Harry Potter movie, tonight. Megan didn't really care for it.

She just wanted an excuse to spend some time with her girls. After the movie was over and she got them to bed, she went to her own bedroom, locking the door behind her as she always did.

She was going to have some fun tonight. She opened the package, and found the focus exactly as advertised. It was much lighter than she expected - she couldn't quite figure out what it was made out of.

But no matter. She had the other things she needed: 12 small candles and 5 big ones, some black sand, and a white bowl with a golden rim. She couldn't quite remember when she had decided to do this.

The story she had read had been lingering in her mind, and when she saw the candles and the perfect bowl on sale at the store, she made an impulse buy and got them.

Roleplaying wasn't really her thing, but maybe this would be fun. She could get herself off, at least. She unpacked everything and got it ready, then stripped and turned out the lights.

The story had been very specific - naked, and no light, or at least no more than needed to see by. The candles had to be placed in a specific order.

She kept her laptop nearby as she crouched on the floor, open to the story. First the lateral prescription, 3 outer and 1 inner candle, for the sanguine vertex.

She didn't know what that meant, but she placed them on the carpet as described, using the light of the laptop screen. Then she scattered a tiny bit of black sand in a semicircle, and lit the candles.

She could vacuum this up later. More candles had to be lit and placed, and before long she had all dozen of the smaller ones lit and the larger ones arranged in a 5-pointed shape around her.

She scattered the sand in straight lines between the candles, forming a pentacle, then placed the black focus on the inside edge.

Now for the fun part. Kneeling in the center of the circle, she took her vibrator and rubbed it over her pussy lips, then turned it on.

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