Satan's Affair

drop from my pussy. I’m flooding him, my juices mixing with his blood.
I come down, shuddering and groaning as I do.
When I go to lift my knife again, a soft voice interrupts me.
“I think he’s dead,” Mortis comments dryly from behind me. I smile at his tone and glance over my shoulder, noting he’s adorned in his costume. I smile wider. He’s always in costume. All of my henchmen are. Always playing their part because this is what we do. This is how we eradicate evil from the world, one town at a time.
Mortis’s face is painted blood red, dark black circles around his eyes, spikes glued down the middle of his bald head, and red contacts in his eyes. He wears gloves with talons for fingers. And they’re really fucking sharp. I’ve watched those sharp little blades sink into flesh and cut bone. I’ve licked the blood clean from them, cutting my tongue in the process and reveling in the euphoria of doing this world real justice.
A real service.
Daddy always said he was the one doing this world a service, but he was wrong. He was the one corrupting this world, while I do my best to save it.
“These people would be lost without me, Sibel. God chose me to carry out His law and I will not let Him down.”
Shaking the memory loose, I look back down at the sack of wasted flesh between my thighs. The second he came into my house, he reeked of evil. I could smell it on him from a mile away. His girlfriend, clinging to him like she’d slip off the edge of Earth otherwise, smelled like freshly bloomed roses. The girl didn’t know the vileness she was clinging to.
I saved her.
The man below me is hardly a man now. My knife has disappeared into his face so many times that all that’s left is brain matter, meat and bone. His teeth poke out from the gore. I cock my head. He has several cavities—another testament to the malevolence residing inside him. When you carry a demon in your soul, it rots you from the inside out. Black, rotting teeth is a big indicator.
I smile again. I chose well.
I stand up, my white gown dripping red onto the hardwood floor. Timothy will come in soon and clean it up for me, while Mortis properly disposes of the body. My henchmen treat me well. In return, I reward them fondly.
Waving a hand at the man, signaling Mortis to take him, my loyal henchman walks forward, lifts the dead man up from under his arms and drags him out. The guests are long gone now, the operators and food truck employees have abandoned their posts and left for the night. All staff are required to leave the grounds when the fair closes—my henchmen included, but they find ways to sneak back in once the grounds are empty.
It’s safe for Mortis now. I’m not entirely sure where he puts the bodies, as our scenery is ever-changing. He always manages to figure it out, though, and I trust him to do his job well.
We’ve been doing this for five years and haven’t gotten caught, thanks to Mortis and Timothy.
Timothy comes clambering in. With the house shut down for the night, we’re all able to walk freely. All day, they’re confined to their stations, going through the same old jump scares with every guest that walks through my dollhouse while I haunt from inside of the walls. My poor babies get so bored. That’s why I always give them a taste when I cast my judgement.
With Satan’s Affair travelling around the country during the fall months, we’ve become quite famous. A travelling Halloween fair, with dozens of haunted houses, small thrill rides and plenty of food to gorge yourself on. Every year, the theme of our houses change to avoid our guests walking through the same houses year after year, being scared by the same monsters.
This year, my house is called Annie’s Playhouse. The entire house is decorated to look like a child’s dollhouse. I quite like the décor this year. Pink and frills everywhere, boas and little dolls to play with when I get bored. I play dress-up with the costumes, dancing in front of the mirror and singing my favorite song, Ring Around the Rosey. Sometimes, when I’m really bored, I’ll cut the skin from whatever demon I’ve cast judgement on and use their skin as a dress.
My henchmen love watching me play. When I’m happy, they’re happy.
Several people work in my house during operation, but only five of them are loyal to me. I assigned each of my henchmen with a specific job. They come around when their presence is needed. Mortis and Timothy are my favorite—which is why I let them dispose of the sickness after I’ve finished. The other three are appointed with luring the demon away after I’ve cast my judgment.
“Would you like me to clean you up, Sibby?” Timothy asks from below me, his muscular back on display. Timothy has the best body out of the bunch, so he doesn’t wear a shirt during operation. Bloody handprints decorate his chest and stomach, along with plastic moldings of deep gouges from fingernails. They look so real.
He’s kneeling before me now, cleaning up the pool of blood that’s gathered beneath my feet. I slip off my ruined slippers and tiptoe over the blood, pretending its lava that will burn if it touches me.
Timothy watches me prance, a smile on his clown face. Royal blue tufts of hair sprout from the side of his otherwise bald head, a stark contrast to his white face, red lips and the red triangles decorating either side of his baby blue eyes. He’s got razor sharp teeth behind his plump lips, but he’s always careful not to cut me when he licks my pussy.
“Yes, please, Timothy,” I respond, making my way over to the rocking chair in the corner of the room. During the day, a mannequin