"Did you remember to pick up the drain brush?"

Of course you did; how could you not? Natasha's been nagging you about it for three days now.

"Well it's not my fault the bath is clogged. Blame Yyvnn; it's her feathers that keep jamming the damn thing."

Yyvnn wasn't the one that's been using the bath plughole as a personal biohazard disposal chute.

"Okay first off, they're not biohazards; just some failed alkahests. I thought it might dissolve all the feathers."

And what did it do instead...?

"... solidified in the pipes."

... Exactly.

"Just please have it fixed when I get back this evening, honey! I promise I'll love you forever!"

You roll your eyes as you bid farewell to Natasha and end the call.

One issue about hosting a budding alchemist in your home was dealing with the fallout of their failed experiments, and the Succubus' 'alkahest' mishap was just another item on the ever-increasing list of problems that needed to be solved. Since Yyvnn arrived, you've been rushed off your feet with all kinds of technical and mechanical problems around the house, mostly stemming from your boarders' lack of technological experience. Just last night Muu - whom you thought was fairly used to electronics, given her aptitude with kitchen appliances - was startled by a late call on the main house telephone, which drove her into an inconsolable state of panic.

You thought you'd be dealing with demonic country bumpkins, but this was just ridiculous.

Sighing, you shake your head and look around the hardware store. After grabbing the drain brush, you shopped around for some basic odds and ends before grabbing the final item on your list; roofing nails. That last storm took off some of the roof tiles a few nights ago, and you've been meaning to get around to dealing with it.

Being a manager sure was a lot of work.

With your items paid for, you step out into the street and shield your eyes from the sun. It's a nice day, and a lot of people are out enjoying the sunshine. A few people are walking their dogs, some teens are availing themselves of an ice cream stall set up nearby, and there's a gaggle of middle-aged women bustling about, handing out flyers to anyone unable to outrun them.

One of them catches your eye and immediately makes a beeline for you.

Oh shit.

As you try to avert your gaze and make a quick getaway, the woman jumps out in front of you and pushes a flyer into your hand.

"Hello, young man! I'm with the MAHI association, and would you be able to talk about the future of America with me for a few moments?" she asks, smiling at you.

You raise an eyebrow as you look down at the flyer, which displays a lot of patriotic imagery, as well as the organisation's logo.

What's MAHI?

"I'm glad you asked! As you know, demons were discovered to be real just a few short years ago, much to the shock and disgust of our great nation. Rather than condemn these monsters as monsters, our government has instead seen fit to accommodate them here in the USA, and even supplant them amongst us without our knowledge or consent!"

That doesn't really answer your question.

"Well in the absence of a suitable response from Washington, we formed the Mothers Against Hellish Invasion as a means of protest against this satanic threat! I mean, really; can you seriously believe the gall of those liberals in congress, allowing those fiends into our country?!"

Uh.

"Imagine what would happen! Public morals would degrade exponentially! Those beasts would sow disorder and dissent willy-nilly! If they would be allowed to fornicate and fraternise as they please... Oh, I dread to think of it!"

Uhhh.

"Think of the children! What if your child one day brought home a demon and told you that they planned on marrying it someday?! Do you really want your grandkids to have horns?! Do you?!"

Uhhhhh.

"So that's why we're looking for signatures for our petition, calling for the government to send those vile creatures back to Hell where they belong! Can I count on your support, young man?" the woman concludes, producing a pen and a clipboard.

You freeze. On the one hand, you're not about to sign this petition, especially not whilst on the Earth-Hell Initiative's payroll. On the other, however, you're failing to come up with a reasonable excuse to deny this woman what she wants.

'Sorry, I've emptied my balls inside two demons already, and I do not plan on stopping' doesn't sound too great for this situation.

Right as you're about to cave, you feel someone tugging your sleeve.

"There you are, chief. C'mon, I thought we were goin' to the arcade; what's the holdup?" speaks an unfamiliar voice from behind you.

Confused, you turn around, only to find that there's no one standing there.

"Down here, chief."

Sure enough, when you cast your gaze downwards, you find an extraordinarily short individual standing behind you. They're dressed in jeans and a sleeveless hoodie that they've pulled over their head, casting gloomy shadows over their face.

You squint. You can't actually tell if this person is a man or a woman.

They step back and fold their arms. They have a sleeve tattoo of a bunch of tangled thorns on one arm, and though their features are mostly obscured by the hood, you can make out a pair of piercing amber eyes and the glint of a septum piercing.

Right as you're about to ask who they are, the half-pint stranger steps in front of the pushy MAHI advocate.

"Sorry lady, my friend here's already late for our meetup. Maybe some other time," he - for you have decided he is a he - says, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away.

He drags you down the street and turns a corner, letting you go once the group of women are out of sight. With a smile, he reaches up and pats your shoulder.

"Alright, chief. You should be safe from here on. Those crazy bitches have been surprisin' folks with their fuckin' petitions all day," your saviour sighs, cracking his knuckles.

Smiling, you thank him, but ask why he did that for you. In response, he just shrugs.

"Dunno. You looked like you were brickin' it, and I ain't about to leave a dude flounderin' like that. Oh, name's Casey by the way," he says, offering his hand.

Responding with your own name, you shake it. Now that you get a closer look at him, you find that Casey has an astoundingly androgynous face, and though his gaze is intense, there is a glint of genuine friendliness in his eyes.

Well, you're grateful for his intervention.

"Hah, don't sweat it. Though I wasn't kiddin' about the arcade thing. I was headin' there anyways. You wanna come?" he suggests, jamming his hands into his pockets.

You're taken aback by his offer. You just met the guy!

"Well yeah, but you miss every shot you don't take, right? Besides; goin' alone is borin' as shit."

You stop for a moment to consider. Everyone back home is still at their various courses and lectures, so it's not like you're being expected back. And you are certainly more than willing to put off your massive list of chores for another couple of hours.

Sure, why not?

Upon hearing this, Casey grins.

"Hell yeah. Let's go, chief."

---

You thought that arcades were a dying industry, so you never really bothered much with them. Only now do you realise how foolish that notion was. With Casey by your side, you both have a lot of fun at the various cabinets, playing all sorts of games, some of which you've never even heard of. You both button mash at the fighting games, loudly swear at each other at the racing games and even attempt one of the dancing machines. Between your blundering movements and Casey's short legs, however, you both wind up incredibly tired and sweaty, staring at your respective abysmal scores.

"Don't think we got the moves for this, chief," your new friend pants, adjusting his hood to wipe his brow.

You get a brief glimpse of his face in a better light and notice that it's spackled with freckles.

"Hey, you any good at shootin'?" he asks, pointing to another cabinet.

It's one of those competitive games where the controllers are shaped like pistols, so you and your friend can compete against each other in virtual shooting galleries.

You're no Billy the Kid, but you're sure you've got some decent aim.

"Then put your money where your mouth is, chief; loser's gotta pay for the next game!" Casey cries excitedly.

You smile. Alright then, bring it!

Like giddy schoolboys, the pair of you take your places and slot your quarters into the machine. As the game starts, you pick up the controller and take aim. Casey had picked out a horror-themed level, where digital zombies jump out for you both to shoot. Judging by the two blank scorecards at the top of the screen, you'll be competing for targets.

"BEGIN!" the cabinet cries, and you both jump into action.

As the simulated fiends pop into view, you take aim and begin pulling the trigger, but before you can take the shot, your target goes down. Casey, with almost professional grace, is taking them all down with inhuman speed, hitting them in the head each time. Not one to be outdone, you swallow hard and redouble your efforts.

The pair of you don't speak a word as the game goes on, but neither of you needs to. It's a battle of reflexes, concentration and the steadiness of your arms. Though you manage to score a shot here or there, Casey manages to completely wipe the targets out within seconds of them appearing.

Jeez, is he a hitman in his spare time or something?

He grins at your slight and keeps firing, stealing your targets from you and racking up a score that completely dwarfs your own. You just grit your teeth and keep shooting.

Somehow, you manage to hit one of the digital zombies before him.

Then another.

And another.

As you chain a quintet of successful hits and rack up your score, you notice that Casey isn't shooting anymore. You raise an eyebrow and glance over at him.

The controller is down by his side, and he's staring off into the distance.

Casey? Is he okay?

You look past him.

He's staring into the crowd of other arcade-goers; mostly groups of kids or nostalgic men. There's one individual that stands out to you though, way in the back. He's dressed in a suit and appears to be holding a finger to an earpiece.

"Chief, we gotta go."

You look back at Casey. He's staring at you with urgency in his amber eyes.

What, why? What's wrong?

"No time to explain! Just c'mon!"

He grabs your wrist and drags you away from the machine before the round had even ended. You barely have time to grab your shopping bag as the smaller man hurriedly pulls you through the crowd and towards the exit. He kicks the door open and rushes out onto the street, still clinging to your arm.

Wait, where the Hell is he taking you?!

"Just run!"

He breaks out into a sprint, forcing you to skip and stumble in order to keep up. At some point, he takes a sharp left, dragging you into an alley filled with dustbins and discarded boxes. He keeps pulling you deeper in, whereupon he points at a chain-link fence blocking off the back of the alley.

"Chief, you gotta gimme a boost! I'll pull you up once I'm over!" he pants.

You shake your head and dig your heels into the ground, slowing you both to a stop.

No, enough! What the fuck is he doing?!

"I really don't got time to explain!" Casey cries, nervously looking past you.

You shake your hand free.

Look, it's been fun, but this is getting too crazy for you.

"Wait, chief, don't-!"

You turn on your heel and shake your head. As you make for the entrance of the alleyway, however, a dark figure steps out to block your path. He's dressed in shiny riot gear, but his armour bears no police insignias.

More importantly, he's pointing a shotgun at you.

"Sup," the man says.

Before you can even raise your hands, he pulls the trigger.

You're blasted onto your back as a spray of rock salt strikes you in the chest, knocking you to the alleyway floor. You scream in pain, clutching your chest where the shot ripped your shirt and dug into your skin. The wounds aren't deep, but holy fuck, does it sting!

As you gasp for breath, you hear boots stomping against the ground, followed by a familiar face bearing down upon you.

"Didn't expect to run into you here, kid. I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you're not an accomplice," the surly form of Lilith remarks, her one good eye glaring at you as she clasps her hands behind her back.

She looks up at Casey, who is fruitlessly trying to clamber over the fence.

"Though I suppose I ought to thank you for getting our escapee to drop her guard."

'Her?'

Stepping over to Casey, Lilith's hand shoots out, grabbing for something around her(?) neck. She pulls away a black pendant with a resounding snap, whereupon your erstwhile companion is immediately enveloped in a mysterious red light.

"Indeed. Casey Flekkam, female, twenty-two years of age. And a demon."

You roll onto your stomach and watch as your new friend begins to transform.

Her skin turns from a rosy pink to a deep red as her pupils narrow into those like a cat's. Her hood slips down, revealing a short head of auburn hair. Two yellow horn sprout from just above her ears, whereupon they curve along her head and point straight up into the air. They keep growing and growing until they're both over a foot in length. Gasping for breath, Casey staggers back.

"You bitch... Thought I fuckin' lost you..." the newly-revealed demon growls, bearing a mouth full of sharp teeth.

"Mm. Kid, this is a good opportunity to study an Imp. Demons of Greed, they tend to be fairly androgynous, so I don't blame you for thinking she was a guy."

Casey gives you a bemused look. In the light shining down the alley, her eyes shine almost as brightly as her chrome septum piercing.

"You thought I was a dude?" she murmurs.

You just shrug, wincing as your chest burns.

"Well, as fun as this has been, I'll need to take you back in," Lilith yawns, producing a pair of handcuffs.

"Fuck you! I'm not goin' back to that stuffy holdin' centre!"

Laughing, your overseeing agent glances down at you.

"Y'know what, today might actually be your lucky day, Casey. Say, what did you think of this kid here?" she asks, prodding you with the toe of her boot.

The Imp looks you up and down.

"I dunno. He seems pretty cool."

"Good."

Lilith raises a hand to her earpiece.

"Gale, take the shot."

It was then that you noticed a tiny red dot hovering over Casey's chest. In the distance, you hear a muffled crack, before a plumed tranquiliser dart suddenly zips into the Imp's shoulder.

"Gah, fuck! Wh- What the Hell did you... fuggin' do to... me... yuh... unngh..." she slurs, before her eyes roll back and she topples to the ground.

Lilith sighs and plants her hands on her shoulders.

"There we are. Dallas, get her into the car."

"Yes ma'am!" responds the man in the riot gear as he marches over and hoists the Imp onto his shoulder.

"As for you, kid..."

The EHI agent offers you a hand.

"Let's get you home, eh?"

---

"You mad at me, chief?"

That's one fucking word for it.

As the hot sun beats down on you, you straddle the roof of your house, angrily hammering a nail into a fresh tile that just refuses to stay put. Your chest still aches terribly, and after a cursory examination, you found that it was bruised badly.

Once Lilith brought you home, she informed you that she had made the split decision to foist Casey onto you, so she would no longer have to deal with boisterous Imp. Apparently, she had a track record of escaping from the EHI, and had run away from three previous homestays. Imps were naturally opportunistic and quick to learn, so she had no trouble procuring a demonic artefact that allowed her to disguise herself as human and disappear into the general populace. She had been on the run for almost a week when you bumped into her.

"C'mon, I was just playin' around! Besides, we had fun, didn't we?" she calls from ground level.

Setting your hammer down, you sidle over to the edge of the rooftop and peer over it.

Casey stands in the middle of the garden, hands on her hips as she stares up at you. Since arriving at the house, she had changed into a tank top and a pair of shorts, allowing you to see the gentle but definite swell of a pair of breasts on her chest. There's also a conspicuous ankle monitor on her left leg now; a parting gift from Lilith.

While you can't deny that you had fun, you still feel annoyed at her for deceiving you.

"And how did I deceive you? You didn't ask if I was a human! You didn't even ask if I was a guy or not!"

You bite your tongue. She's got you there.

Still, you have a hard enough time keeping the household in check; you really don't want to add 'babysitting a demonic delinquent' to your list.

"Oh, for- can you just come down so we can talk about this like fuckin' adults? Please?" Casey calls.

You sigh, but concede. Setting your tools aside, you climb down the ladder to ground level. You make a show of frowning and folding your arms as you look down at the diminutive new addition to the household.

"Look, I'mma be real with you; I like you, and I like this place. It's got a good vibe to it, and you're not nearly as controllin' as the other humans I was sent to stay with," she says, rocking back and forth on her heels.

Buttering you up isn't going to-

"Lemme finish! Miss One-Eye gave me the lowdown when I came to. You're lookin' after a bunch of other demons here, right? And they're goin' to college in town and all that shit?"

You nod, causing her to smile.

"Alright. Because I was thinkin' that I might like to stay here, then. Enrol in an arts course or somethin'. I'm handy with a needle, see?" Casey says, pointing to her sleeve tattoo.

You have to admit, it's pretty impressive. Did she do all that by herself?

"Hell yeah I did! So look, you don't gotta worry about gettin' any shit from me. Swear it," the Imp concludes, giving you a smile.

Though you want to remain angry at her, you sigh and allow all of the irritation to seep out of you.

Fine. But she better not misbehave in the future. God knows you've got enough shit to deal with.

"Awesome. Hey chief, one last question?"

What?

"We're alone here, right?"

Well, the others are still at college and wouldn't be home for another few hours yet. As for the house's actual location, there are other dwellings in the neighbourhood, but they're spaced far enough apart to afford you some privacy.

Casey nods and smiles.

"Cool, cool. Wanna fuck then?"

You almost drop your hammer onto your foot. You give her a shocked, incredulous stare.

"What? We're both adults here, and it ain't rude to ask."

No, it's not that. You're more confused as to why she thinks it's appropriate to ask you in the first place.

"Well, you didn't sign that petition, so I figured you weren't one of them demon-hatin' folks. Why, do you prefer your lovers without horns?" the Imp presses, taking a step forward.

You feel your cheeks burning as she gets closer to you. Almost immediately, she notices this and gives you a big grin.

"Oh, I see how it is. You're the opposite, ain'tcha chief?" Casey teases.

Now wait just a minute-!

"Hah, per~vert~!"

She laughs and takes a step away from you, leaving you to stew in equal parts shame and frustration. What was wrong with this girl?!

"So, Mr. Horn Lover, my offer still stands. Care for a roll in the hay?" she asks, cocking her head.

There's something strangely intimidating about the way she's asking you this. The Imp is standing just a few feet away, with her hands planted confidently upon her hips as she gives you a cocky smile. Even without the hoodie and jeans concealing her body as they did before, she's still got a pretty boyish physique, but somehow it's working for you. Swallowing hard, you look deep into her eyes.

Fine. If anything, you can consider this payback for having her disrupt your day.

Casey's eyes flash dangerously as her smile suddenly becomes much more predatory.

"Awesome. The safeword's 'chlorophyll.'"

Sorry, the what-?

"Meniduititrof ihim ad! Abreh!"

Without warning, several tree roots burst from the ground and wrap tightly around your ankles, much to your alarm. You begin to cry Casey's name, but your voice dies in your throat as the roots extend, violently dragging you off your feet and dangling you upside-down, your head more than a foot from the ground. The Imp just giggles devillishly as you struggle and squirm.

"Oh, I'm not Casey to you anymore, pup," she sighs, her tone of voice growing huskier.

She licks her lips and hunkers down to grab your face.

"I want you to call me 'Mistress', understand?"

Why would you-?

She squeezes your cheeks painfully.

"Understand...?" she repeats, her catlike eyes narrowing.

You swallow hard. She was taking this seriously.

... Yes, Mistress.

"Excellent. Now, let's see what you're packing, pup!"

Without any further ado, Casey dextrously whips your belt off and pulls your trousers down. Or rather, she pulls them up, given how you're still dangling by your ankles from demonic tree roots. Rather than remove your boxers, however, the Imp bites her lip and begins to run a finger along the outline of your bulge.

"Hmm... looks promisin'..." she muses.

What exactly is she-?

Your question becomes a sudden gasp as she abruptly cups your crotch and squeezes; not enough to hurt, but just enough to let you know that you've overstepped your bounds.

"You speak when spoken to, pup. Got that?" Casey whispers with a dangerous glare.

You keep your mouth shut and nod, giving her cause to smile.

"Good boy."

You're not sure why, but there's something about the way she says those words that causes your body to have a physical reaction. Your skin tingles with goosebumps and your dick gradually hardens beneath Casey's hand, much to her delight. Grinning hungrily, the Imp pulls your boxers out of the way, exposing your entirely. Between the light breeze brushing against your shaft and her breath tickling the head, there's little you can do to stop your cock from standing proudly at attention.

"Heh. Decent length, good shape, adequate thickness... all-in-all, my dearest pup..."

She lightly pats your balls.

"... Nice cock."

You raise an eyebrow.

Thanks?

"Oh, don't thank me just yet~!"

With another snap of her fingers, the diminutive domme wills the tree roots holding you aloft to recede back into the ground, dropping you onto your back. Before you can even begin to get up, however, yet more roots bind your wrists and ankles, pinning you in place against the soft grass.

Casey stands over you, grinning as she watches your dick jut straight up into the air.

She licks her lips and slowly begins shrugging off her tank top, revealing a toned midriff and a pair of small-yet-perky breasts, each sporting a dark crimson nipple pierced with shiny barbells. Her bellybutton is pierced as well, and as you take it all in, Casey sticks out her tongue to show you yet another piercing.

"What do you think?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

They're very pretty.

She frowns at this and narrows her eyes, prompting you to correct yourself.

They're very pretty, Mistress.

"Heh. Good boy."

Her cat-like eyes glinting mischievously, Casey turns herself around and sits down on your chest, eliciting a gasp from you. She's not exactly heavy, but the overall situation that you're in has kicked your senses into overdrive.

"Wanna know somethin' about us Imps, pup?" your newest lodger asks over her shoulder.

You tilt your head in response. Her grin widens, revealing a full array of sharp teeth.

"We're the best mechanics in all of Hell. We've been reverse-engineerin' human inventions as quick as you can invent them. So trust me when I say we're very~ good with our hands...!"

As if to compound her point, she lightly runs her fingernails along the base of your shaft, somehow hitting all of your most sensitive spots with pinpoint accuracy. She giggles at this and turns away from you once more. With both hands, Casey begins to stroke and rub your dick, her individual fingers moving with such grace and complexity that you feel like you're being touched by a hundred hands at once. It's an otherworldly feeling, but as soon as you dare to buck your hips, the Imp answers your impudence with a sharp slap on the thigh.

It stings, yes, but in a good way. A quick flash of pain followed by a warm, pleasant buzz.

Oh boy; you are getting way too into this already.

"You need to learn your place, pup," Casey muses as she flicks her thumb across the head of your penis, inciting a stilted gasp from you.

You audibly hear her lick her lips.

"Right now, you're nothin' but a toy. My toy, you got that?"

Hearing her say that... it sends pleasurable chills down your spine. Any notion you have of resisting the crimson-skinned domme's allure melts away as you bite your lip and nod.

Yes Mistress!

"Good boy!"

She snaps her fingers, causing more enchanted plants to burst from the grass around you. Soft flower stems intertwine around your neck before gently constricting and snapping themselves off, forming a verdant collar around your throat. Comfortable to breathe and swallow in, but just tight enough to make you feel... well... owned.

"Them puppy-eyes of yours got me thinkin'; what's a cute little pup without a collar, huh?" Casey laughs, wiggling her rear as she continues to stroke you off. Spasms of pleasure rush through you like errant lightning bolts, but through it all, you manage to keep focused on the Imp's ass. Hidden as it is by her shorts, you can only imagine what it would be like to-

You shake your head. This is all really starting to get to you.

"What's wrong, pup? See somethin' you like?" Casey asks, looking over her shoulder.

You grit your teeth.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong~" she purrs, reaching down with one hand to gently massage your balls.

You're fine. You don't-!

"Is that defiance I'm hearin'?"

No!

"Good to hear. If you're a good pup, I might be inclined to reward you, you know," Casey presses, pushing her ass closer to your face.

Stay strong. Stay strong! On your pride, you can't let her win...!

"You just gotta ask nicely...!"

As you feel a mass of pressure build up deep inside, you take a deep breath...

... and break.

Please, Mistress, will you take off the shorts?!

Right as you feel ready to blow, the Imp tightly grasps the base of your dick, cutting your orgasm off before you can begin. She chuckles cruelly and turns to regard you with cruel eyes.

"Oho? Is that all?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

You swallow hard, and are reminded of the collar she clasped around your neck. Fear and anticipation run wild within you, disrupting all rational thought and leaving you suspended in the moment, staring at your Mistress as she dismounts your chest. Despite her denial of your ejaculation, your penis stands harder than ever.

Piercings glinting in the sunlight, a bead of sweat trickles down your forehead as the Imp flashes her jagged teeth. She hooks her thumbs into her waistband and pulls her shorts off without much hesitation. She's wearing boxers beneath them, but soon they're swiftly removed as well, revealing what you've been dying to see; a nice toned ass that burns red in the sunlight, and a moist pussy flanked by intricate tattoos. Twirling her underwear around her finger, your Mistress saunters towards you and hunkers down.

"You really are a fuckin' pervert, ain'tcha?" she hisses, pulling the boxers over your head.

Oh God, they're still warm. You don't know why - you cannot even fathom it - but this only serves to excite you further.

"Good thing I like perverts~!"

For a split second, you're granted a moment to admire your Mistress' crotch tattoos as she swings one leg over your face. Like the sleeve, there's a theme of thorny vines, but before you can ponder whether she did this one herself too, the Imp promptly sits on your face.

"Ngh. Comfortable," she laughs.

With your vision obscured, you are fully immersed in the smell, taste and feeling of your Mistress. You can tell almost immediately that she works out; her thighs squeeze your head with just enough power to let you know that she's in control. Deep down, you're thrilled that she's granted you the opportunity to please her, and you're not about to let the demonic domme down.

After all, you've had practice.

Taking a moment to concentrate, you remember Natasha's words. Eagerness is appreciated, but you must be gentle.

Tentatively, you give your Mistress' pussy a light lick. The taste is deliciously sexual, though a few shades saltier than you expected. There's also none of the sweetness that Natasha's honeypot had. Interesting.

"Hm? Is that it? One lick and you're done?" your Mistress scowls, spurring you into action.

You silently reprimand yourself. This isn't about your experiences. This is about her pleasure. Time to get to work.

Just as your first boarder taught you, you carefully lick, nibble and flick at the Imp's clitoris, alternating your movements when you can and adjusting your techniques in accordance with her reactions. Almost immediately, shivers of pleasure rock through her thighs, forcing her to lean forward and brace her hands against your chest.

"F- Fuck," she gasps, though you pretend not to hear.

Another thing you quickly find out about Imp is that they get wet very quickly. Within the first minute of impassioned pussy-eating, your entire face is absolutely slathered with her juices, and you honestly can't get enough of this. The sticky sensation smothering you is just proof that you're pleasing your Mistress to the best of your ability.

"Well shit, I ain't about to be outdone by an upstart pup...!" you suddenly hear her breathe as she leans forward.

Before you realise what's happening, a warm, wet sensation suddenly envelopes the top of your dick, momentarily halting your ministrations as a wave of shock runs through you. As she slowly takes it into her mouth, inch by inch, your Mistress coils her dexterous tongue around your shaft. It's much longer than you thought, and the soft flesh is juxtaposed by the hard tongue-stud that she expertly rubs against your most sensitive areas. Releasing your dick with a wet pop, the Imp giggles.

"Think you can keep up...?" she asks, wiggling her butt.

You nod fervently, smearing her juices all over your nose.

"Hah! You got balls, pup! Let's fuckin' go!"

As she leans forward to plunge your entire dick into her mouth, you're forced to crane your neck at a rather uncomfortable angle in order to keep up the pace. Your Mistress is certainly eager to show you her skills as she practically chokes herself on your rod; gagging and coiling her tongue in a way that feels indescribably good. It gets increasingly hard to continue your ministrations on your end, as the constant involuntary spasming of your hips repeatedly throws off your rhythm.

Dammit! You might be her toy at this point in time, but you'll be damned if she's gonna think of you as the best goddamn toy she's ever had! Stamped metal parts! Articulated joints! AAA batteries! You've lost control of this analogy, but it somehow motivates you anyway!

Spurred on by your own nonsensical train of thought, you strain forwards and attack the Imp's clitoris with newfound fervour, doing everything in your power to elicit any kind of reaction from her. Indeed, with every lick, flick and swirl, your Mistress twitches and moans. In response, she clings tight to your thighs and begins rapidly bobbing her head, forgoing all technique in favour of raw bravado.

And it works. Deep down, you feel that familiar, pressured sensation rising in your loins, and though you try to hold it in, your Mistress quickly picks up on your mounting urges. Pulling your dick out of her mouth, she grabs the spit-soaked shaft and continues to vigorously jerk you off, still somehow managing to hit your sensitive spots as she does so.

"What's wrong, pup? Had enough?" the Imp gasps breathlessly.

Unable to speak through a mouthful of pussy, you can only whimper.

"Are you gonna cum?"

You swallow hard and nod.

"Well...!"

Without any warning, the Imp just lets go of your dick.

"... too fuckin' bad!" she cackles cruelly as she leaves you to feebly rock your hips into nothingness.

Once again, your Mistress brings you right to the edge before leaving you high and dry, forcing you to bite your lip as you struggle against your bonds. She rolls off your slicked face and takes a step back, taking no small amount of pleasure from your indignant whines.

"We're not finished yet, not until I say so!" she says, snapping her fingers.

You feel the tree roots loosen around your wrists, allowing you to move them somewhat freely again. With your upper body no longer anchored to the ground, the Imp grabs your verdant collar and pulls you up into a seated position.

"Sit just like that, and don't move unless I tell you," she commands.

You nod dumbly, too enamoured by the demon before you to form any kind of intelligent response.

Your tonguework definitely got to her, you can tell just by looking. The Imp's snatch is slathered in her own juices and you can see marks on her lips where she had been biting them. A light sheen of sweat covered her entire body, causing the light to play off it like she were a ruby statuette. Running a hand through her auburn hair, your Mistress crosses her arms and fixes you with a predatory stare.

"Time to get fucked, pup...!"

Grabbing your shoulders, your Mistress looks deep into your eyes as she hungrily licks her lips. In that moment, she doesn't look like a demon, and you don't feel like a man. She is a beast; a starving, sensuous beast that is sizing you - a helpless rabbit - up in order to sate her boundless hunger. It's a terrifying and incredibly arousing look in her eye. Mesmerised by her catlike pupils, you are only dimly aware of the Imp as she plants her feet on either side of you. Her pussy is tantalisingly close to your face.

Leaning on you for support, she gradually begins to lower herself onto your dick. Though you want to gasp and moan as she feeds your cock into her hot, sopping snatch, you keep your mouth shut and allow her to work in silence. The Imp is incredibly tight, and once she is seated in your lap, you can almost see the bulge of your dick pushing against her midriff from the inside.

Your Mistress sits there for a moment. She's biting her lip, her legs shivering and shaking.

"L- Like I said, pup; you got a nice cock," she says breathily, smiling at you despite the darkening of her cheeks.

You can only blush in response, like a schoolgirl complimented on her dress.

Once she sees that you're ready, the Imp begins to fuck you. Not like the lovemaking you had with Muu. Not like the sex you had with Yyvnn.

Your Mistress - this bold and brash Imp - well and truly fucks you.

With her fingernails digging into your shoulders, the pintsized demon rides your dick with such intensity that you're forced to pull out clumps of grass behind you just to keep up. Heat builds up between the two of you, slicking you both in sweat and lustful secretions. The air is filled with hot pheromones and your blood is afire with arousal as you buck your hips in time to your Mistress' rapid strokes.

The pleasure is mind-numbingly intense; like your entire body is running hot with prickly lightning. In the motion-blurred heat of the moment, you begin to forget things. You forget your name. You forget her name. You even forget how to speak.

All you know is that she is your Mistress, and you are her loyal pup. A toy that she uses as she sees fit, and you are more than proud to serve her.

As the Imp adjusts herself atop your dick, you grit your teeth and get lost in the moment. At this stage, you are driven purely by instinct, like a rutting beast indulging its need to breed. You gutter and gasp in time to the Imp's moans and groans. You're both loud, but you can tell that neither of you cares about being heard. All that matters is the moment between the two of you.

Every now and then, your Mistress will stop and close her eyes, shuddering all over as she is struck by a brief orgasm. Your lap is practically flooded every time she cums, but this only drives you harder. The seconds and minutes bleed into one; your Mistress' climbing count of orgasms serving as your only way of tracking how long you have been fucking.

The scratches she leaves on your shoulders, the squeezing of her pussy around your overexcited cock, the hot scent of sex that permeates you both... It's enough to bring you to completion, but by now she is completely in tune with your body. Every time you feel the pressure swell deep within you, the Imp slows her movements down just enough to allow the sensation to ebb away, whereupon she picks the pace up once more.

She's teasing you, constantly keeping you on the edge where you're at you're hardest. And you can't get enough.

You buck your hips in time to hers; a hot, sloppy dance where you're both completely in tune. The Imp's grip on your shoulders reminds you who's in charge, and her constant orgasms remind you that you're doing a good job.

Moment after blissful moment of rough, rowdy fucking passes before your Mistress leans in close. She nibbles your ear and laughs, causing the skin on the back of your neck to prickle.

"Well? Do wanna cum yet, pup?" she asks in a teasing, sensuous tone.

You just moan and frantically nod your head, having long since forgotten how to speak. You don't need to; all you need is to continue pleasing your Mistress.

"Then CUM!"

She accentuates her command by slamming her hips down against yours. In an instant, the floodgates are opened.

You explode deep within the Imp, cumming with such intensity that your toes curl, your eyes cross and you tear clumps out of the grass behind you. You can feel spurt after spurt of thick cum pump into your Mistress' awaiting pussy, and all the while she just bites her lip and moans ecstatically as she rides out a climactic orgasm of her own.

It goes on for much longer than you can imagine, to the point where your ejaculate begins to spurt out onto your lap, where it mixes with the sizable puddle of demonic juices gifted to you by your demonic domme.

You can barely think as the pleasure rocks through you; frying your synapses and rendering your speech into little more than panting moans and garbled grunts of ecstasy.

After what feels like an age, your titanic load finally bottoms out, and you flop onto your back, completely spent.

However, your Mistress just grabs the collar around your neck and pulls your face close to hers.

"What? Did you really think we were done, pup?" she cries, her catlike eyes flashing with feral need.

Uh.

"It ain't over until I say so, and I say we ain't even close to startin'! I'm gonna wring you dry until there's nothin' left to give!"

Uhhh.

"I'm gonna truss you up like my own personal cum-bank, to use and abuse as I see fit until you dry up altogether! Because that's all you are to me, pup!"

Uhhhhh.

"A toy! A plaything! A stress ball to squeeze, stroke and suck until you-!"

... Chlorophyll?

Almost immediately, Casey raises a hand and snaps her fingers. The tree roots and plant stems binding you wilt away into nothingness, granting you the freedom to collapse onto your back as the Imp dismounts you and shakily climbs to her feet.

"Hoo boy, that was somethin' alright! You still alive down there, chief?" your newest charge asks you in her usual nonchalant tone.

You swallow hard and take a few deep breaths, feeling your entire body ache from her rough loving.

For the most part.

"Heh, nice. Sweet Hellfire, that was some seriously sweet lovin' you gave me! My legs won't stop shakin'!" the toned tomboy laughs, slapping her thigh.

A little bit of cum spurts out of her pussy when she does this, prompting her to laugh again.

You frown. Despite what she's saying, you mostly remember just lying back and taking it.

"Hey, you played along like the perfect sub. Man of my dreams, amirite?"

Well... you're versatile, if nothing else.

"Heheh, I'll take it. Fuck me, I gotta rehydrate; cummin' a dozen times really takes it outta a girl, y'know what I'm sayin'?" Casey sighs, running a hand through her hair.

You'll take her word for it.

As the Imp saunters off towards the house, you just fall onto your back and bathe in the afterglow. Despite the unusual circumstances, you genuinely enjoyed yourself, and, given a little physical and mental preparation, you find yourself willing to play the eager submissive again should the situation arise.

Still, an Imp's refractory period was a terrifying thing. You were honestly a little afraid for your life towards the end there.

"Man, Earth OJ really can't be beat. We only got blood oranges down Hellside, and they taste funny," you hear Casey comment from the back door.

You look up to see the Imp draining a carton of orange juice from the fridge, belching loudly as she chugs the entire thing. She has deigned to wear your shirt for some reason, and although it fits you just fine, the garment is comically large on her, almost reaching her knees.

You make to comment on this, but when your gaze tracks downwards, you notice something.

"Hm? What're you starin' at?" the Imp asks, cooking her head.

She glances down to see the trail of semen leaking down her leg and onto her ankle monitor.

"Oh shit. Chief, do you got a shower I can borrow?" Casey asks.

You shrug. It's her shower too; she lives here now.

She smiles at this.

"Heh. Like I said, I think I'm gonna like it here!"

With that, your newest charge turns on her heel and heads off to the bathroom, leaving you alone to sunbathe naked in the garden.

You lie back to rest, only to remember something.

The pipes are clogged.

You frantically grab your trousers and run for the door as something falls from the roof, narrowly avoiding hitting you as it shatters into pieces.

A roof tile.

You glance up, just in time to see a bright flash from the bathroom window.

"Yo, the fuckin' light bulb just exploded!" you hear Casey scream from inside.

With a deep, heavy sigh, you bury your face in your hands.

Yup. Being a manager sure was a lot of hard work...