At the crossroads

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Please say no.

"So, I guess we could go to this party tonight..."

Come on, just say no.

"Or maybe just hang at your place?"

Even though it had all been pre-arranged, the thought still gnawed at me. Yes, his answer was predetermined, the deal had already been struck, but the answer always seemed like this final chance to repent.

They never did.

His soul bought and sold for one cardinal sin.

Sex.

And I wasn't worth it.

Because immediately after he agreed, I wished to feel something else. Anything other than boredom at the same routine, played out again and again across the eons.

The dress had changed; corsets, furs, and cloaks traded for blue jeans and a tight crop top that drew attention away from his studies. Those classes had stayed the same through the centuries, just like my appearance. The universities never bothered embracing the renaissance, imparting the same stale instruction through the same self-indulgent speeches.

No wonder this virgin preferred to let his eyes linger on every curve as I stretched, showing just enough of my skin to attract a stare. Nothing too wicked, just enough for his twisted and tormented imaginings to truly take hold.

I would dance around his dreams, an enticing flower ready to open without revealing the rancid rot dripping darkness out of my well traveled soul.

Absently, I bit my lip, pretending at this posture, already knowing my role in our arrangement. He could still stop, even signed and sealed. A crossroads bargain meant nothing without the final deliverance.

But he wouldn't.

They never did.

He left me to endure the tedium of his tortured courtship, no longer truly weighing the cost of his soul, barely noticing the details that might have saved him as one of the chosen. He wasn't ugly, pock-marked, dimpled-chin, gangly and awkward. Just depressed, his natural affections ground into the earth until downtrodden enough to accept any offer.

Had I really been so different? Or had the years slowly gnawed away every remnant of humanity until my blackened soul more closely resembled the beastly creature I served?

He reached for my breasts, cupping one before bothering with a kiss. And with such a small motion, he abandoned his last chance at confession. I could feel his manhood pressed against me, rubbing through his pants against my bare thigh.

His soul was gone.

All that remained was the final act.

At first I had been so ashamed; now I was only impatient.

In spite of myself, I dripped with excitement. The steady secretion of the centuries kept me on the perpetual edge of sexual fulfillment, the eternal denial of orgasm making me willing to endure anything for just a second's respite.

Hell remained inside myself, dripping down and down from my cunt, the entirety of my being transformed into this caustic cauldron of bubbling condementation.

He pulled up my shirt, my nipples bulging out roughly over the top of my brasserie. His inexperienced hands mauled as they moved, rough without any meaning.

So unlike Lilith.

The dorm room burned away, blackened into sulfuric soot that clogged and coughed out of every opening. Even he disappeared, leaving me again wondering what happened to my true flesh after my spirit descended into perdition. Around me, the screams of eternal suffering echoed out against the empty caverns, the unseen devils delighting in each new torment.

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