I pry Morgan off me, sneering. "I don't think so. With all due respect, I think I'd rather take my chances with the police officer than take help from a sadistic diabolist."

Morgan grows cold again, hand twitching with the need for violence, blue eyes shining with a dark light that promises bad, bad things. After a second, she thinks of something and her sick smile returns.

"It's a shame, but have it your way," she said, brushing some lint of her skirt, feigning disinterest. "However, make no mistake, few people refuse me. Next time you need my help, I will see you rip off your fingernails off as payment."

"Mhm, whatever you say," I say, rolling my eyes. Her right hand twitches again and she has to stop it with her left. holding it down. Maybe angering the crazy diabolist is not a great idea, but I am fucked already. There's a freedom when you hit rockbottom. After all, how much worse can things get? "Now, can you take care of the body and food as agreed upon?"

Crane intercedes. "Of course, Mr. Scaurgez. Let me make a phone call to some associates."

He pulls out his cellphone and dials a number. After a short delay he starts talking to someone, a "cleaning crew" by the looks of it.

I decide to make my way to Dober, she looks tense, but a look of genuine appreciation appeared in her eyes when I said I would't take the second deal, but now she is just staring at Morgan, expression deadly serious.

"You made the right choice, partner," she tells me. "I am ex-police, I'll get you through this." She pats me in the head, not taking her eyes off of Morgan.

I slap her hand off, annoyed at being treated like a kid. This gives rise to a slight smile from her.

Morgan doesn't stoop to her level and is paying her no mind, writing on that damned clipboard of hers. What's the bitch even writing about?

Crane finished his call. "The individuals who will take care of your body should be here in thirty-three seconds. In the meantime, I will make another call to one of our lawyers, arranging him to come by once a week for every week hereafter until you tell one of the members of our firm that you do not require the service anymore. Will this suffice?"

I nod and he dials up again.

I walk away from the kitchen and into the room were Synthia lies. I choose to spend the final seconds with her there. This could be the last time I see her after all. She was a flawed person, but she didn't deserve this.

I wish I could hold her hand or hug her, but the rotten smell is too much, her body made unseemly by rigor mortis and injuries. It doesn't even have eyes.

Before I can arrange and puzzle out the words I would like to say to her, loud knocks echo from the door.

I step out of the room and walk down the hall, moving towards the door. Crane, Morgan, Dober join me, trailing behind me.

We reach the door and I open it.

A set of the most shady individuals I have ever seen--and keep in mind I've seen a lot of them in the slums--stands at attention in the doorway, cleaning elements and trash bags in their arms.

Their figures are brutish, packed with muscle, made for violence. The four "cleaners" are wearing common clothes, black sweat pants and hoodies. However, the hoods hid their faces, covering them in shade. If I really concentrated, I could see through the gloom what could be a set of big snuggle teeth.

"Show them the way to the body please, Mr. Scaurgez," said Crane, phone on one ear.

I nod and lead them to it.

When we enter the room, they immediately start cleaning the stains, bagging the body, measuring the holes in the wall, etc.

I see them eying the Abyssal Sword lying against a wall and pick it up, weary that they'll take it.

The moment I pick it up, I feel my body become lighter, stronger, visions of how to kill the four brutes flash into my mind. Visions of me gutting Morgan and Crane into pieces.

I don't focus on them too much and they become background noise.

Crane finishes with his phone call and approaches me. Morgan is next to him, expression unreadable.

"These gentlemen will be done soon enough, Mr. Scaurgez, then, they'll be off. Is there anything else you need, anything at all?" he asks.

"No." I answer, shaking my head.

“Then we’re done, with just over five minutes remaining on the clock. Thank you and your familiar for being a gracious hosts.”

I expected them to disappear into a fiery portal, but instead they leave through the door like normal people.

What now?

The cleaners continue their monotonous work, and as I watch them, something keeps irking me. I feel like I've forgotten something.

I bite my damnable girly lips, trying to puzzle it out. I feel like I am getting closer to figuring it out, when Dober grabs my ass from behind, coping a feel.

“I'm huuuuungryyyyy,” she groaned, in a whiny voice.

I swear I can feel one my veins bulge in my forehead; pissed off, I elbow her harshly in the stomach. “Fuck off,” I hiss.

My elbow hits what feels like a stone wall. Dober's powerful abdominal muscles absorbing the hit like armor plating. She doesn't even do me the service of stumbling. Instead, she snickers and hugs me from behind, pressing her hard member onto my butt, wetting my leather shorts.

“If you want to be angry, be angry at yourself,” she said, panting into my ear. “It can be argued that this is all your fault, really. That you seduced me with your lovely cooking skills and slutty, bitch-like body. So, take responsibility.”

The cleaners have stopped their work and are now staring fixedly at me. Even though I can't see their faces, I can feel the lecherous looks they are giving my breasts, my lips. I don't like it, I don't like it, I don't like it one bit.

Wanting nothing more than to escape this humiliation, I accede. “Alright, release me and Iet me cook you something.”

Dober lessens her grip and I attempt to extricate myself the rest of the way. However, before I am completely free from her grasp, she grabs my wrist and pulls me back in for a ferocious kiss. She rapes my mouth with her tongue, going deep, twisting, sucking.

I was startled, but when I get my senses back, I bit her tongue with all my force.

Doberman growls and wraps her fingers around my jaw, forcing it open slowly, fingers digging into my cheeks.

She manages to pull it out, eyes blazing with lust, tongue dripping black blood.

I choke and spit the disgusting black substance filling my mouth into the floor.

“You know what,” she said, smiling wickedly, “Change of plans. I want you to cook while I pound that catty attitude right out of you.”

“Wait, no! What about these guys here?" I said, pointing at the cleaners. "We should give them water for hospitality. I saw them eyeing my sword earlier.”

Doberman growls, annoyed, torn between immediate pleasure and the potential consequences of it.

“Alright,” she said, pronouncing each word slowly, prying them out. “You start cooking, I'll see about getting them that water.”

We both walk head towards the kitchen.

When we enter it, I go for the fridge, opening it, while Dober picks up some glasses and fills them with tap water.

As I set things up, meat, pan, etc, Dober walks out to give them the hospitality.

I choose this moment to grab some black pepper from a cabinet and sprinkle copies amounts--the whole flask--over her food, wishing she will overdose and die from intoxication.

She comes back sooner than I'd like and by the looks of her eyes and crooked smile, she doesn't seem to have abandoned her earlier idea.

She pounces on me from behind, while I'm holding the pan with the meat.

For a moment I consider cursing her, fighting back, biting her, but then I consider that it would just make her enjoy it even more. The sick bitch actually derives a perverse pleasure from getting a rise out of me. I just grit my teeth and plot my revenge. Oh, just you wait Dober. The things I'll do to you…

She starts stripping me frantically, panting, drool hitting Synthia's leather jacket. My clothes are gone and on the floor in a matter of moments.

“Fuck, fuck, your slutty body is driving me nuts. Always emitting these pheromones,” she hisses as she spreads my cheeks, lining up her phallus. “I can barely think when you parade your ass on those shorts. It should be fucking illegal. The police should rape you on sight.”

When she penetrates me, I almost flip the pan and its contents into the air. There's less pain than last time. I don't know what's worse, having more pain like the first time or my anus getting used to be a glorified pussy.

She gives me another thrust, making me grab the counter and dials on the stove with a white knuckled grip. “Shit! Out of all the bitches I fucked, you slutty hole has to be the best. The Abyss must really favor your family, eh Scourge?”

Then another thrust, more pleasurable than the last, almost making me moan. I manage to keep it in.

Another, then another, and another. They keep coming one after another, faster and faster.

By this point my mind has melted with pleasure and I can barely think. My body is being crushed into the counter, it and one of Dober's arms all that is holding me up.

The first orgasm comes swift and overwhelming. My body spasms wildly while my ass clenches on her dick, my traitorous body trying to keep it inside so it can spill its corrupted seed. Somehow, once more without touch, my diminished member spits out a lame trail of semen, that drips down to the floor instead of shooting into the counter and oven.

This isn't the end; however, Dober hasn't cum yet, so she keeps pounding my sensitive orifice that hasn't recovered.

“Fnog.. Ahn! Nohw! Iveg…jus…ohh! Cameee! Stohp!” I yell, feeling pain of a different kind, from too much pleasure.

Dober pays me no mind, opting to dip her hand into the saucepan with boiling olive oil and grab one of the cooked chicken breasts with her bare paw. She then brings it to her mouth and starts tearing into it with gusto, barking from too much happiness.

Time passes and she keeps fucking me. I've lost count of the orgasms by now. All I know is that at some point, the door of the house opened and the sound of the van driving off could be heard--the cleaners left.

Just when I think Dober will kill me from a heart attack, a loud set of knocks rattle the front door.

“Open up, this is the police!”