Satan's Affair by Carlton, D. (free children's online books TXT) 📕

hand around my throat, keeping my head up as he fucks my mouth. The veins beneath his skin bulge, and the sight of his power makes my knees tremble. His hand squeezes tighter and tighter, until I can no longer breathe with his engorged dick ravishing my mouth.

Tears prick at my eyes and black spots dot my vision.

I need to breathe, but I need to come even more.

My men’s thrusts become sloppy and erratic as our orgasms build. Cronus reaches his peak first, groaning long and low as hot cum spurts from his cock. My mouth fills, and he releases the tension around my throat just enough for my cheeks to puff out. I have to focus on swallowing.

Cronus slides out, allowing the guttural screams from my throat to finally be heard. I come harder than I ever have before, my pussy gripping my men impossibly tight. I scream and scream, not caring if I’m heard two towns over.

Jackal and Baine follow suit a few seconds before Mortis. Judging by Timothy’s loud groan, I assume he found his release, too.

It feels like gallons of semen are being spilled into my body. My tummy bloats from the amount, and I have to grind my teeth against the incredible fullness.

And like a hand being pulled from a puppet, we all collapse, our bodies languid and shaky.

My head rolls to the side, my cheek smashed against Mortis’s bony shoulder. Blood smears across my cheek, but I don’t have the energy to care.

I stare at Gary. What’s left of him at least. It looks as if a powerful vacuum attached itself to his mouth and sucked the life out of him.

A tired smile draws across my face as peace settles deep within. I did something good today. Another evil soul, ridden from this planet.

Mortis taps my shoulder lightly. With a harrumph, I roll off of him. Him and the boys pick themselves up and start cleaning up the mess I made. Timothy cleans the blood, while Mortis drags Gary’s body out of the house. Jackal leaves to go find the stray body parts and clean upstairs.

“How do you feel?” Baine asks, his voice barely above a whisper. He talks like he’s a ghost.

“Good,” I sigh.

“Tomorrow morning we leave for Seattle, Washington. I heard rumors about that area.”

My brow puckers.

“What rumors?” I ask softly, watching as Jackal walks out of the room with a hand full of fingers and an arm.

“A massive pedophile ring is there. A lot of politicians and celebrities hang around there.”

My eyes widen. It blows my mind that these things actually happen. I can’t understand how people could kidnap and rape boys and girls. Little innocent babies to teenagers. And then sell them and torture them in the worst imaginable ways. Sparks of anger ignite, my mind wandering to all the horrific things they probably do to those poor souls. Poor, innocent souls. Only a truly evil person could do something like that to a child. A baby.

Only demons could do that.

“I’m hoping some of them come through Satan’s Affair,” I say aloud. Then, “What if more than one come through?” I muse. Surprisingly, that hasn’t happened yet. More than one evil soul coming through my house at once. “How would I choose?”

Baine is silent for a moment. His bony, white fingers drift over my skin, eliciting goosebumps from my flesh. I shiver beneath his touch. His fingers trail across my stomach.

“Who says you have to choose? Kill them all, Sibby.”

It took eight days, sixteen hours, twenty-four minutes and thirteen seconds for Mommy to come back.

She walked into our shared bedroom, looking no worse for wear. Her brown hair hangs limp around her shoulders, stringy and threadbare. Her dull brown eyes as lifeless as they’ve always been. Mommy was always been skinny, but as the years pass by, her body grows frailer and her bones curve, like she’s retreating in on herself.

Sometimes I wonder if she ever looked at me with love in her eyes when I was born. Before Daddy sucked her lifeforce away. What did she look like before him? Was she vibrant and full of life and love? Did she do everything with passion and ferocity?

I want to know who she was before she let someone destroy her so deeply.

“Mommy!” I gasp, rushing to her and embracing her in a loose hold.

I learned long ago not to hold her too tightly. It hurts her.

Relief washes through me so strongly, it takes all I have not to collapse from the force of it.

“I’m okay, sweetie,” she says tonelessly, patting my back before stepping away. She ambles past me, her slippers sliding against the floor as she walks.

Did she pick up her feet when she walked before Daddy?

“What happened to you?” I ask, following after her like a lost puppy.

She glances at me, but her eyes shift constantly, never staying in one place for more than a second. Never looking directly at me. Another thing that’s shifting throughout the years—it seems to get harder and harder for her to meet my eyes.

“I was in one of the other houses,” she replies.

Daddy created a small compound for the Church to live in. He came from a long line of old money, so he bought a hundred acres of land and built ten large houses, all set up in a square. He assigns a couple of the trusted Church goers to go outside the compound and get whatever supplies we need once a month.

Otherwise, none of us are allowed outside the premise. Especially without his permission. We go to school every day with one teacher, and then do work around the house to keep us busy.

When a man has eighteen kids, with five more on the way, it’s important to implement some type of law and order around the compound. Daddy does his best to stay at the houses evenly, but even a single day spent in my house is too often.

I’ve never been