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The Devil’s Harem: Sin City

The Devil’s Harem: Sin City

An undercover journalist attempts to discover and expose Las Vegas’ darkest secret.


The year was 1991…

A few cirrus clouds swirled like strokes of an artist’s brush across the blue desert sky. Even in the midst of desperation, with all hope having vanished, one can still see the beauty in their surroundings. Sometimes it’s necessary to mask the ugliness. Sometimes it might be the last thing ever seen.

Hot burning sand stuck to his face. Of course it would, they had just tossed him in a hole and shoveled sand until he was buried up to his chin. The sand burned his eyes, it was even in his mouth, gritting against his teeth.

Breathing was a struggle. Without any room for his chest to expand, he couldn’t fill his lungs with air. And panic — aching, desperate panic, always makes the suffering worse.

When one’s eyes are at ground level they can’t see very far. But he could see the dozen or so men wearing tailored business suits, who had brought him out there. Hogtied and gagged with a bag over his head, they’d put him in the trunk of a car. It had to be one of the three dusty identical black Lincoln-Continentals he could see parked nearby.

They had pulled him out of the trunk and shoved him in a freshly dug hole. Two very large brutes had shoveled the sand around him before walking back to the car to put their suit jackets on.

Straining, he could just turn his neck enough to see a green canvas tarp a few feet to his right. What the hell is under that tarp?

Listening intently for his rescuers, he hoped to hear a police siren. Surely they’d be here at any minute. They must be coming in a helicopter. He raised his eyes toward the sky.

The men were all talking and laughing. Fucking assholes! 

A brown lizard scampered up to him, stopping only inches in front of his face to inspect him. He attempted to blow at it to make it go away. The lizard crept even closer. 

“Go away!”

Amused, the brutish men all began to laugh at him. 

“Maybe that little reptile will eat his eyes out?” one bellowed.

Again he looked to the sky as best he could, searching for help.

Where the fuck are they?




The Arrival

The Las Vegas airport seemed more like the shopping mall of a midsized town. It was surprisingly small. However, the slot machines scattered about everywhere gave it that Vegas charm. Where else could you find legalized gambling at an airport?

Justin Story had been looking forward to this trip to Vegas. Washington, D.C. was boring. Sure, it was the center of political power, but it was so mundane after living in New York City – the Big Apple. The great nightlife, restaurants, parties, the beautiful women who’d converged there from all over the world. Now that was New York City. It was truly “the city that never sleeps”, and he’d loved it.

New York is where he’d made a name for himself. His list of journalistic awards had grown so long, he couldn’t remember them all. He was Justin Story, the star reporter for The Continental Post, America’s number one national newspaper. He’d uncovered more scandals than anyone could name, exposing government corruption that had brought down senators, congressmen, and titans of industry.

Sure, Justin Story was a name he’d created, but it had become more than that. It had become a household name in America. His image was a bigger than life persona. It was who he had become, and where else but in America’s cultural capital should he be? New York, not Washington. 

He hadn’t held back his disappointment when the publisher moved the paper to Washington. Sure it is the nation’s capital, but outside the glitz of power, the politics, it is a hot and humid hell hole. Washington is neither artistic nor is it creative, unless the creation is corruption. Besides being a stagnant hole, there was very little exciting nightlife. So Story had jumped on the opportunity to get out of town and cover a story in Las Vegas, America’s Sin City. 

Las Vegas, much like New York City, is twenty-four hours of action. Casinos, parties, strip clubs, beautiful hookers, the Mob; yes, a lot like New York City but a lot smaller. Corruption in Las Vegas? What is new about that? The Mafia built the place. It was crawling with Costa Nostra. But rigged casino gambling, money laundering, government payoffs, prostitution, and possible white slavery that went beyond just the Mob? With the probability of connections to Hollywood movie stars, CEOs of mega-corporations, US Senators and possibly the state gambling commission, now that was a story. Yes, a story that could set the nation on its head. A story that only Justin Story could uncover.

Stopping at the baggage carousel, Justin saw his brown leather case. He never packed a lot, not much in clothes anyhow. The aging piece of leather luggage had seen its better days but it was still quite functional and that’s all that mattered to Story.

“Story?” A tall skinny black guy in his late twenties, sporting an ill fitting, off the rack, gray suit, stood staring at him. “Are you Justin Story?”

“That’s me.”

“I’m Detective Simms with the Clark County Sheriff’s Department.” He opened his wallet to show him his badge.

The young detective nervously looked over his shoulder and tugged at his arm. “Come with me.”

Story followed the lanky black detective through the doors, across a wide sidewalk to a waiting blue Ford Crown Victoria with plain hubcaps. I can’t believe it, the typical detective police car. Anyone anywhere would recognize that immediately. I hope we’re not being followed.

Quickly shoving Story into the backseat, the young detective ran around the front of the car and hopped into the front passenger seat. Right away, Story noticed the middle aged, balding man sitting behind the steering wheel. Like Detective Simms, he also wore a cheap suit. For a second they locked eyes in the rear view mirror, then the car peeled away from the curb and sped off.

“Story, huh?” The balding man grunted. “Finally, I meet you in person.” Again he eyed Story in the rearview mirror. 

“You must be Lieutenant Hubert Stowe,” Story said while lighting a cigarette.

“You can call me Hubie.”

“Call me Justin.”

“Alright, Justin. We gotta go over a few things.”

“Sure, of course.”

“So, you told me on the phone that you’ve got experience wearing a wire.”

“Yeah, several times.”

“Simms…” The Lieutenant nodded his head. Detective Simms passed a wired mini-microphone and roll of tape across the back of his seat to Story.

“Wear that at all times,” Stowe instructed. “We need everything we can get on these guys. I mean, hell, you’re getting the story and we’re getting something we can take to the FBI. We sure as hell can’t take it to our guys, the Staties, and especially not the gaming commission.”

“You can’t trust any of them?”

“Hell, no!” The Lieutenant cleared his throat. “They’re all on the take. It’s up to you to get the goods on this place.”

These guys are crazy as shit if they think I’ll wear that fuckin’ wire all the time.
“So you told me on the phone, the gambling is rigged, they’re paying off officials, all the women there are prostitutes — maybe even sex slaves held against their will.”

“Yeah, that’s my take anyhow. They got some kind of hold on those chicks. Goddamn, those bevies are all gorgeous. It looks like they are whoring out the Miss America pageant in there. I mean goddammed goddesses.”

“It’s a casino, hotel, strip club, brothel, all under one roof. And we gotta prove it.” Lieutenant Stowe scratched his chin. “This place has been untouchable since it opened in the mid-1950s. Even the fucking Mob leaves them alone.”

Story shook his head as he stuffed the microphone components into his bag. “Let me get this straight — you’re saying whoever runs this place isn’t Cosa Nostra?”

“That’s right, even the fucking mobsters leave them alone. I mean they fucking won’t go near the place.” Stowe grunted, “Hey, are you going to offer me a goddamn cigarette or not?”

“Sorry ‘bout that.” Story pulled the cigarette pack from his jacket pocket and offered it over the seat back to both detectives. Stowe took a cigarette and popped the dash board lighter. Detective Simms waved the offer off and glared out the side window.

Finally taking a long draw off the cigarette and exhaling, Stowe said, “Damn, I love these things. I’m supposed to be quit. The old lady nagged for years and I finally quit just to shut her up.”

“So, are you guys going to keep me under surveillance or what?” Story asked.

“As much as we can,” Lieutenant Stowe answered. “You got the room taken care of and all, right?”

“Yeah, the paper sprung for one of the better rooms to make me seem more authentic. I’m using the name, Anthony Donatello.”

“Good, you need them to think you’re a serious player — a high roller from the East Coast. After you check in, get a massage or something, eat in their roof level restaurant. It’s very posh, I understand. Then enjoy some of their strippers. One of ‘em or a hostess chick will probably latch onto you. She’ll escort you to the casino.”


“They’ll probably let you win big at first. Then the chick will go with you to your room. Be damn careful she doesn’t see that wire. But get it all. After she fucks your brains out, make sure you get her to say how much you’re paying her.”

“Perks of the job,” Story grinned. Pussy? Undercover? Now we’re talkin’.

“Then meet us at Rick’s Diner on The Strip tomorrow morning.”

“Not too early, I hope.” 

Lieutenant Stowe chuckled. “Yeah, okay. Make it noon, and it will be breakfast for you. Us too, we’ll be up most the night. Simms here will be stalking you in the casino. Hell, I might even let him keep an eye on you in the strip club. I think he likes looking at titties.”

Showing no expression at all, Simms stared out the side window.

Stowe slowed the car and pulled up to the curb. “Here’s your stop.”

“But we’re back at the airport?”

“Yeah, for sure. Hail a cab from here. We gotta keep the suspicion down.”

“Tomorrow at noon. Rick’s Diner.”

“I got it.” Stowe grabbed his bag and exited the car.

In the phone booth across the street, a large man in a gray suit with his back turned, chatted away on the phone. “Just like you said, Boss. They must’ve driven around and they’re back.”

Story waved down a cab and hopped into the back seat with his bag.

“Where to?” asked the cabbie.

Story eased back in the seat. “The Devil’s Harem Casino.”

The cabbie sped off toward the city. Story gazed out the cab window at the barren, brown mountains that surrounded the enormous, flat desert valley that held Las Vegas. He felt excited.

Goddamn, I like doing undercover for stories.

The cab turned onto Las Vegas Boulevard South, the Strip as it’s known. It was easily one hundred degrees Fahrenheit outside, yet tourists were crowded onto the sidewalks. They made their way up the Strip, past Caesar’s Palace.

Story was surprised when the cabbie turned off the Strip and went down what looked like an alley. This can’t be right. 

The alley opened up into a luxurious courtyard. The circular driveway was paved with marble. A large centerpiece sported a remarkable remake of Michaelangelo’s David, only with an extraordinarily large phallus.

The cabbie stopped in front of the Art Deco entranceway and looked back toward Story. “This is it.”

Story handed him a ten dollar bill. “Does a sawbuck cover it?”


“Keep the change then.” Story scooped up his bag as he slid out of the backseat. 


The Devil’s Harem

Looking up, he counted thirteen stories to the building. Hell, that’s damn unlucky.

A doorman that looked to be Native-American wearing a red suit and sporting a long ponytail, opened the heavy glass door and greeted him. “Welcome to The Devil’s Harem.”

Something eerie about the doorman’s grin made Story feel uncomfortable. In fact, as he stepped into the circular foyer, it felt like the hair on the back of his neck had stood up. A whiff of cold air wisped by him, and as he was walking through the foyer, he thought he caught some kind of almost subliminal image. Looking up, Story saw a huge, extremely ornate chandelier. He looked around on all sides and the entire wall was mirrored. 

It was when Story looked down at his feet that he began to notice a barely darker shade of marble tile on the floor. From studying it he thought he noticed something. Finally, he saw it. A pentagram pattern that covered the entire floor was formed by slightly darker tiles that were almost unnoticeable. That’s funny – how appropriate – The Devil’s Harem.

The door at the other end of the foyer opened automatically as he stepped closer. A very young and beautiful Asian woman in a short, red skirted business suit greeted him. “Welcome to The Devil’s Harem, Mr. Donatello.”

Dumbfounded, Story suddenly stopped. “How did you know–“

“Your name?” she interrupted and smiled. “You made a reservation didn’t you?”

“Well, yes.”

“Good,” she said, “we were expecting you.” Gesturing to the front desk, she continued, “He’ll check you in.”

Behind the desk, a clean cut young blonde man, also wearing a red business suit smiled at him. “Ah, Mr. Donatello.”


“That’s not all your luggage is it?” The front desk agent’s smile seemed outrageously wide and somewhat disingenuous.

“This is it.”

The clerk snapped his fingers and a bellhop, a very short, older man, in a red suit like the others, came scurrying around the corner with a pronounced limp. The bellhop, also a hunchback, sported an eerily wide smile just as the front desk clerk had and just as disingenuous.

The bellhop reached for Story’s bag. 

“Oh, I can carry my own bag.” But the bellhop grabbed at it anyway.

“Please, Mr. Donatello,” the desk agent chimed in. “We do not allow guests to carry their own bags here at The Devil’s Harem." Then the agent again broke into his eerie wide grin.

The bellhop jerked Story’s bag out of his grasp and smiled.

Staring at the strange bellhop, Story suddenly heard the desk agent. “Sir, your room key. You’ll be on the sixth floor.” The agent then handed the key across the desk to the bellhop who took it and looked at Story. 

“I’ll let you into your room, Mr. Donatello.” Again, the eerie smile spread across the bellhop’s face. 

“Be my guest,” replied Story. It soon seemed to him as if the weird front desk experience had been made even stranger by the lights of the lobby becoming noticeably dimmer while he stood there.  

Story followed the bellhop to the elevator and to his astonishment, the elevator doors opened without the button being pushed, as if expecting them. Then to further his astonishment, the sixth-floor button lit up without even being touched.

The bellhop stood facing Story, exhibiting his bizarre smile as the elevator rose. The bellhop’s strange gaze never broke from Story as the elevator began its ascent. He felt relieved when it arrived at the sixth floor and a bell dinged. The doors opened and the bellhop stepped out, leading Story down the long hall of room doorways. The carpet was the same shade of red as the employees’ suits.

The strange atmosphere of the place got even more bizarre as the hallway was decorated with large and very ornately framed reproductions of William Blake’s infamous Satan paintings.

The bellhop hobbled slowly down the corridor then stopped at room 666 and unlocked the door, gesturing Story to enter. ‘Fucking 666,’ thought Story, ‘really, this is too goddamned weird.’

Immediately, he was aghast at the room’s appearance. While very clean and the furniture looked to be very expensive, the red velvet walls, red carpet, red drapes, and red bed spread seemed a bit overdone.

The entire wall at the head of the bed was a floor to ceiling mirror and a large mirror graced the ceiling above the bed. Just as he had asked for, the room had a king size bed.

The bellhop placed Story’s bag on the luggage rack then stepped over to the window and opened the curtain. “Will that be all, sir?”

Story pulled his wallet out and handed the bellhop a five dollar bill. 

Sharply snapping the bill, the bellhop stuffed it into his pocket. “Thank you.” He turned and hobbled toward the door then turned back toward Story. “Mr. Donatello, sir.” The man’s strange grin reappeared.


“The casino, Lucifer’s Wager, is on the fourth floor. The Demon Belles Nude Review, the strippers, are on the third floor. Massages are offered on the second floor, and there is a very upscale restaurant on the roof, Satan’s Feast.”


“No, Mr. Donatello, thank you. Thank you.” The bellhop turned and left. 

That sure was strange. Story shook his head. And this fucking room is just bizarre.

Easing over to the window, Story drew the curtains open and peered out. The lights from Caesar’s Palace shined across the roof of the building that separated The Devil’s Harem from The Strip. I wish I was staying over there tonight.

Finding himself quite hungry, Story soon took the elevator to the Satan’s Feast on the roof. Thanks to his American Express undercover account provided by The Continental Post, Story ordered the filet mignon with lobster tail. Despite his usual pickiness with food, both the filet mignon and the lobster tail were the best he’d ever tasted. Afterward, he realized the heavy dinner had made him sleepy, so he went back to Room 666 for a short nap. 

Upon awaking it was 10:25 pm. Very early by Vegas standards. Story got up, brushed his teeth, showered and put his suit on. Time to visit the Demon Belles. He snickered. Titties and ass.


The Demon Belles Nude Review

He could hear the thump of the music as he neared. Upon entering through a haze of thick cigarette smoke, he recognized the tune the DJ was playing, INXS’s ‘The Devil Inside’. How appropriately timed is that?

Three girls who could’ve easily been Playboy centerfolds danced on the main stage of the club just under an enormous rotating, chrome disco ball. As they gyrated, their body’s glimmered with a sheen of sweat, showing off their perfect femininely muscle toned bodies. 

Glancing to his left, Story found himself in disbelief at what he saw. On what he expected to be a side dance stage was a stage set up like a huge bed. On it, at least a dozen naked young ladies were engaged in full on, for real, lesbian sex.

What the hell?

It was minutes before he could pull his attention away from that site, then he looked to his right to see what awaited him there. Story found himself amazed yet again, as several men in red body paint, wearing horned devil’s masks, were fucking women in various positions. He strolled ever closer to make sure what he saw was authentic. It was.

He closed in on that bedded stage on the right. On stage, plowing a gorgeous blonde doggystyle, one of the devilish men stuck his unrealistically long tongue out and wiggled it provocatively at Story. Fucking freak!

Live sex shows? Surely that isn’t legal in Nevada?

“Have a seat and let me get your drink order?” 

Story nodded at the topless waitress that had just addressed him. She motioned to a table. The waitress was just as gorgeous as the dancers on stage.

“What will you have?”

“Oh, give me a gin and tonic on the rocks. Hell, make it a double.”

As she turned toward the bar, he noticed the Devil’s tail attached to her skin tight red spandex leggings.

They really do take this Devil’s thing too far. Story eyed the dancers on the main stage.

“Your double gin and tonic, sir.” She sat the drink on the table.

Story reached for his wallet. “So let me pay-"

“Not necessary, Mr. Donatello, Room 666, it’s on your room tab.”

How do they all know my name and room number? This is just a little eerie.

“And the tip?”

“Gratuity added,” she smiled and turned.

Pulling a cigarette out, he lit it and took a long drag before sipping his gin and tonic. Story decided he would sit back to enjoy the stage show and wait to be approached. That was when he caught a glimpse of Detective Simms sitting at the bar.

Sitting slightly hunched over with his elbows on the bar, Simms looked back over his shoulder at Story. Their eyes met for a second, then Simms hoisted a beer to his lips and looked back over at the dancers on the stage.

He’s in that same cheap suit he was wearing earlier. So obvious he’s a detective. These Vegas cops could really work on their undercover skills.

“Mr. Donatello?”

“Yes.” Standing by his chair was a beautiful young woman with long stylish, strawberry blonde hair. Quickly, he turned in his chair to directly face her. Her dress looped well below her tits, giving him a top to bottom view of her ample cleavage.

“May I join you?”

“You may indeed.” He stood up to pull a chair out for her.

“Why, thank you — a gentleman.”

“I try.” His eyes explored her features. She was stunningly gorgeous, early twenties, with perfectly smooth skin. Like the other women he had seen, she could’ve passed for a Miss America contestant.

“Are you a dancer?” Having noticed she was wearing an evening dress instead of stripper attire, he thought he’d ask that question anyhow just to study her response.  

“I can do that if you wish?”


“I’m your host for the evening. I can dance in here for you. I can accompany you to the casino,” she smiled seductively, “I’m here for whatever you need.” Her light blue eyes melted into his.

Well, just like Stowe had said.

“Oh, uh, um.” Story was surprised when he stammered. He had always prided himself at being prepared for anything. But a girl this beautiful, making the offer he thought she was making had truly caught him off guard. “Your name?”

“Oh, silly of me not to have told you already.” She stared deeply into his eyes as she whispered just loud enough to be heard over the music, “Lilith.”

“Lilith? Um – yes, Lilith,” Story stuttered. “Lilith is a beautiful name.”

And quite appropriate.

“Anthony, right?”

Story just stared at her.

“Your first name? You are registered as Anthony Donatello, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes — yes, I am.” For a second he’d forgotten his undercover name. 

“I mean it is Vegas, some people don’t register under their real names,” she said, cornering her eyes at him.

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t do that. I – I’m Anthony Dona – Donatello, alright.” He was visibly nervous.

“Why of course you are,” Lilith threw him a discernibly knowing smile. “Why would you say otherwise?” She sat back in her chair.

“Anthony, may I bum a cigarette?”

“Su- sure.” Story fumbled at the package in his breast pocket and finally brought the pack out. Lilith took a cigarette, placing it to her lips as Story pulled out his lighter.

She took a long drag and exhaled the smoke in his direction. “I think you’re ready to do some gambling. Am I right?”

“Yeah, yes, that, you’re right,” Story choked out. “Let’s do the casino?”


Lucifer’s Wager

With Lilith at his side, Story had done much better than expected at Faro and Blackjack. Up $2,500 from the original $1,000 in chips he’d purchased, he was feeling quite confident. 

Other than the Satanic neon signs and artwork, the casino seems on the up and up. Only the live sex show in the strip club seems to be breaking any laws.

Grinning at Lilith, he gestured toward the roulette tables. “I’ve never played roulette but have always thought it looked cool in the movies.”

“C’mon then, let’s see how your luck holds out.” Lilith took him by the arm as they strolled toward the roulette tables.

I’m beginning to think those detectives have me on a wild goose chase. I need to figure out an angle for a story somehow.

There was a moderate crowd in the casino but it bubbled with excitement. Lilith led Story to a table with only a couple of players. “How much?”

“Ummm, I’ll put down a couple of c-notes.”

“Aw c’mon, Anthony,” urged Lilith, “you just cleaned up at Blackjack.”

“Well, five Benjamins then.” Story’s jaw jutted out as he grinned, his confidence beaming.

“Don’t be a pussy, Anthony.” Lilith grinned as her eyes sparkled with mischievousness.

“A pussy?” His jaw dropped in surprise. “Okay, okay, a full grand. How’s that?” Staring at her with a big grin, he took out the cash and tossed it on the table.

She smiled and rubbed her hand along his forearm. “That’s more like it.”

“What number, hmmm…” Story scratched his chin while mumbling.

“Try thirty-three.” She looked at him for a response.

“Any particular reason?”

Still smiling mischievously at him, Lilith quickly looked toward the table, pulling her lower lip over her teeth and shook her head then cornered her eyes back at him.

“Sounds great to me.” Looking at the dealer Story pushed his chips forward. “A grand on thirty-three.”

“The man in the gray suit says a grand on thirty-three, what’ll it be?” spouted the dealer.

The ball rolled onto the spinning roulette wheel. It rolled and rolled and bounded onto twenty-four.

“Twenty-four!” shouted the dealer, scooping the chips into the house’s pile.

“Oh, man,” Story’s shoulders drooped. “That sucked.”

“Try it again,” urged Lilith.

“Yeah sure, you work here,” Story answered.

“No, don’t quit. Same number, I think thirty-three is lucky.”

“A grand?”

“Be a man, Anthony.”

He looked to the dealer less confident than before. “A grand on thirty-three.”

“The man won’t stop, will it be deja-vu?” The dealer grinned.

The wheel started and the ball dropped. Spinning and spinning, this time it seemed like it went on and on to Story.

The ball dropped. 

“Thirty-three!” shouted the dealer. “A winner!”

“Wow!” Story grinned in disbelief as the chips were pushed to him.

“C’mon, Anthony, play again,” Lilith clutched his arm while she rubbed his back with her hand.

“Thirty-three,” she urged again, “and put everything on it. All of it.”

“Aw, no way.” He shook his head. “No way it’ll drop on thirty-three again.”

“C’mon – don’t be a pussy,” she drew it out. Gazing into his eyes, her tongue teased through her lips, beckoning him.

Sweat beaded up on Story’s forehead. Hell, it’s the magazine’s money anyhow.

“Alright – Alright! I'll, hmmm, just do fifty-five hundred on thirty-three.” His voice trailed off.

“The man says fifty-five hundred. We’ve got a big one, can we reel him in?” The dealer shouted as a crowd of onlookers had built around them. “Thirty-three?” The dealer looked to Story.

Story nodded. His expression had turned serious and he nervously exhaled.

The wheel started and the ball dropped. It rolled and rolled and finally bounced and stopped.

“Oh, my!” shouted the dealer. “Thirty-three!”

“Oh damn! One-hundred and ninety-eight grand!” Story shoved his arms into the air triumphantly.

“You’re a winner, Anthony,” Lilith gave him a hug and quick kiss on the lips. “What do you want to play now?”

“I’ll hold,” Story nodded his head, “I’ve got another night. I guess I should turn in my chips.”

“C’mon, then,” she said nudging him with her shoulder.

Escorting Story to the bank cage, Lilith held tightly to his arm. She softly stroked his back as he slid his chips through the window. Stone faced, two cashiers routinely counted them out.

“Mr. Donatello, Room 666, right?” one cashier asked as he wrote out the receipt.

Damn, how do they all know that? “Yes, that’s right.” Story turned and smiled at Lilith.

“You can cash this in for as many chips as you wish later, Mr. Donatello and don’t forget before you check out, to bring your final receipt if the house still owes you anything, and we’ll write you a check.”

“Oh, I’ll be getting a check?”

“Sure you will, of course, Mr. Donatello.”

Stuffing the receipt into his pocket, Story turned to leave without looking up. A hard bump almost knocked him to the floor. He had collided with someone solid as a rock. Quickly looking up, Story saw it was a tall, deeply tan man with long black hair pulled back into a pony tail, and wearing a very expensive gray silk suit.

As the man’s dark black eyes met his, Story was immediately intimidated by the menacing lack of emotion of his face.

“Oh, excuse me,” Story exclaimed, “I didn’t mean to bump into you.” He recognized the man from the photos he had studied earlier.

“No problem, Mr. Donatello. None at all.” The dark man’s deep crusty voice exuded an accent that Story couldn’t put a place to.

It’s getting fucking weird with everyone knowing my registered name here. Hopefully, just great customer service, but geez.

Once outside the casino portion, Story turned to Lilith. “Do you know that man?”

“Oh, yes,” she nodded, “that’s Asmodeus. He’s upper management.”

“Do you know who owns this place?”

“Well, Anthony, we all assume that would be Mr. Natas,” Lilith answered. “Evidently, he’s back in town. I saw him with Asmodeus earlier today.”

“Is Natas a guy with very even facial features, light blue eyes, um, maybe looks to be forty years old, usually impeccably dressed.”

“A pretty good description, yeah, and he’s extremely good looking, really a beautiful man.” Lilith laughed. “Why all this interest in him?”

“Aw, nuthin, really,” shrugged Story, “I’m always curious, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m curious myself.” Lilith smiled and drew her arm into his.

“Oh, you are? And about what?”

“Whether you’d like me to come up to your room?”

Story half smiled. “Why not?”


Room 666

“You know, 666 is the number of the beast.” Pressing the key into the door lock, Story paused, almost hesitant before he unlocked it and pushed it partially open.

“What beast is that?” Lilith whimsically asked.

“The beast is the Anti-Christ, a devil.” Holding the door open, he allowed Lilith to enter the room first.

“Well, that’d be appropriate around here.”

“Oh, yeah. Why’s that?” Story was intrigued.

“‘Cause what’s about to happen tonight is pure one-hundred percent sinful.” Turning toward him and grabbing the front of his shirt, she pulled him to her. Their lips met as they embraced.

Kicking the door closed with the stiletto heel of her shoe, Lilith grabbed Story by the crotch. She led him, catwalking backward toward the bed, her hand softly clenching Story’s erect penis through his trousers. The curtains to the room were mostly closed, allowing the room to be dimly lit by the many lighted signs that brightened the night sky over Vegas.

Story found himself mesmerized and hornier than he’d ever been. Between the images he’d seen earlier in The Demon Belles and the beautiful creature that had him by the crotch, he just wanted sex, hard fucking sex.

Lilith stopped him just short of the bed and pulled his face to hers, planting a soft kiss on his lips. She pulled him tighter. Her tongue pressed into his mouth, swirling until she’d teased his tongue into her mouth.

He’d had his tongue sucked before but not like the way Lilith did it. It was as if her tongue was a hallucinogenic drug.

Lilith continued gently stroking his swollen pecker through his pants. Returning the favor, Story began stroking her firm ass cheeks.

“Mmmm,” Lilith murmured.

Story let his hands roam along her sides and was about to slip one hand onto her pussy through her dress. Suddenly stepping back, she sat on the bed while still keeping her hand on his crotch, coaxing him forward.

“C’mon, big guy.” Lilith looked up at him, her pupils partially hidden by the tops of her eye lids. Then she giggled and grabbed his belt buckle, and in a snap Story’s trousers fell to the floor around his ankles.

As Lilith’s lips encircled his protruding erection, Story almost felt weak at his knees but steadied himself. He looked down and she still had her eyes glued on him. This chick is witchy sexy.  

Lilith then slid off the bed down onto her knees. Her face disappeared underneath his nuts as her warm wet tongue rolled over his balls, slurping as she went. All the while she gripped his pecker, gently stroking it. 

“Mmmmmm,” he moaned.

Lilith pulled her face back, and Story looked down to see his throbbing cock separating her eyes. Her tongue pressed hard against the nape where his balls met his cock. 

This gorgeous piece of ass sure has skills.

She quickly pulled back and pressed her lips over the smooth head of his penis. Both her hands began stroking his balls just before she pushed her head forward, taking his entire cock with much of it firmly down her throat.

“Yeah, deep throat that fucker.” Story’s eyes rolled back as he sighed.

Lilith’s head began bobbing back and forth, his dick sliding into her throat and back out again. 

Holy crap this is good. “I think I might cum.” 

Lilith gripped the base of his pecker very hard in a full fist clench, pinching it hard. Story’s impending orgasm subsided. Story grunted and swallowed his own spit as his knees almost wobbled.

Pulling her head back Lilith exclaimed, “Not yet, big guy.” 

She stood up. Sliding her dress off her left shoulder, she looked at him and smiled. Then she slid the dress off her other shoulder and it dropped to the floor at her feet, revealing she hadn’t worn anything underneath. Lilith backed to the bed and reached down with her hand as she raised her leg enough to remove one high heel, then the next.

Sitting back on the bed, she beckoned Story to her with her forefinger. Stepping to her, Story watched as Lilith grabbed his shirt and ripped it open, buttons flying in all directions. She laughed and said, “I love doing that.”

Lilith softly ran her hand over his chest, down his sides and reached around, rubbing his back. Story thought it seemed that she could be searching for something like the detective’s microphone he’d decided not to wear. 

She grabbed him by the hand, pulling him onto the bed as she allowed herself to fall back onto the mattress. Story fell on top of her. She kissed him just before she jerked his torn shirt over his shoulders, tossing it to the floor. Clumsily, he tried to kick his shoes off his feet. 

“Here, let me do that for you.” Lilith slid out from under Story onto her knees on the bed, untied his shoe laces and threw them backward over her shoulder as she giggled. Then yanking his socks down and rolling them off, she laughed as she tossed them each in a different direction. “You won’t be needing those anytime soon.”

Lilith crawled onto him and squirmed up his body, her soft pussy hair tickling his skin as she went. She stopped with her crotch at his chin. “I think I want to use your face as a saddle.”

She giggled again as she pushed her twat onto his face. Story grabbed her by the ass cheeks as she pressed her bush harder against him. Her musty aroma filled his nostrils as he began to probe her moist cunt lips.

Moaning softly at first, Lilith slowly ground her pussy into his face as he continued to lick her fat labia which were getting wetter by the second. 

“Eat my pussy, big guy?”

Story could only moan and grunt. He pressed his tongue harder between her juicy cunt lips, sliding it up and down. Then he began to suck at her swollen lips, as he ran his fingers down her ass crack. 

Just as his tongue began to prod and tease her swelling clit, that could no longer hide beneath her hoodie, he began to tickle and probe her asshole. With his free hand, he reached underneath her and slipped a couple of fingers into her soaking vagina. 

Lilith’s moans grew much louder. Her breathing became very heavy and labored, and she thrust and twisted her torso onto his face.

At times struggling to stay in rhythm with her, Story couldn’t quite catch his breath. Her pussy, which by then was dripping wetness down her thighs, seemed to attack his tongue with more effort than his attempts at giving her cunnilingus.

Before long, she was riding his face back and forth. Story had pulled his hands back to grip her ass cheeks again in an attempt to not be smothered by her grinding snatch.

Lilith seemed oblivious to Story’s efforts under her crotch and soon she was fingering her own clit as she continued her pelvic slide. He was desperate almost to the point of tossing her off his face when she began to cum. He gasped for air.

Her thighs clenched, pulling her knees together like a vice. She grabbed Story by one of his ears with one hand and clenched a handful of his hair with the other as she screamed out in ecstasy.

After having shaken his head side to side between her thighs while she orgasmed, Lilith collapsed on the bed next to him. She caught her breath and turned to him. Much of Story’s face was shiny wet from her juicy cunt and his hair was mussed all over.

“You look like you enjoyed it,” she sighed.

“Not as much as you, Lilith, not as much as you.” 

Lilith rolled over and pressed her forehead to his. “Now I’m gonna fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.” 

Story raised and eyebrow and swallowed hard. “Alright.”

She grabbed him by the cock again, finding it semi erect and began stroking it. “Let’s get that cock back up again.”

That only took seconds. Story’s pecker was quickly hard as a rock. He felt the throbbing pulsating from his scrotum through his cock.

“I’ll give you a different ride.” Lilith grinned and crawled upon him. Gripping his hard dick in her hand, she held it in place as she slid her pussy down onto him. Once he was balls deep into her, she slowly started to grind.

She smiled at him as her long blonde hair fell against his face, tickling his nose and cheeks. He felt her wetness as it began to ooze down his balls. Lilith began to pick up her pace, back and forth and squirming side to side.

Laying underneath Lilith as she rode him, Story could see himself through the dim light in the ceiling mirror above them. He noticed Lilith had slung her hair backward and was also watching them in the mirror above.

She then slung her hair forward, letting it fall on his face as she leaned onto him without missing a stride, and gently bit his ear. 

Story soon felt Lilith clenching her vaginal muscles around his throbbing pole. He knew he’d be cumming very soon unless he changed positions. He tried to ease her off him but she resisted, continuing to ride his cock. 

Just as he thought, he soon felt an orgasm build inside. It soon exploded. He grimaced and grunted as he began to shoot his load into her. 

Seeing his expression, Lilith shouted, “Cum hard, baby, cum!”

She continued grinding on him until his penis began to go flaccid, then she rolled off him. “I’ll give you two minutes and we’ll start again.” She laughed.

“Two minutes?” Story exclaimed. “That’s awful fast. I may need a little longer than that.”

“Okay.” Lilith began to squeeze and play with Story’s soft cock. “But I’ve got something that’ll make this next round a little more fun.”

“Yeah, what’ll that be?”

Lilith rolled over to the nightstand by the bed. Flipping a lamp switch on, she opened the top drawer and pulled out a little bag of white powder.

“What the fuck?” Story sat up.

Lilith turned her head to him and grinned. “Compliments of the house.”

“How did that get there?”

“Sweetie, you’re in Room 666 at the Devil’s Harem.” She giggled. “You don’t think we keep Gideon’s Bibles here do ya?


“Of course.” Sprinkling the white powder on the top of the night stand, Lilith gave Story a quick smile. “Get me a stiff bill if you got one.” She turned her attention back to the nightstand creating two lines of coke then licked her fingers clean.

Crawling off the bed, Story grabbed his trousers on the floor and found his wallet in the back pocket. He pulled out a twenty dollar bill and handed that to Lilith. “This Jackson is the crispest bill I’ve got.”

“It’ll work,” she said, rolling the bill tightly. Then she hunched over the night stand, taking the rolled up Jackson and snorted a line. Lilith pinched her nostrils and sniffed again to make sure she had inhaled all the coke.

“Your turn.” Her expression implored him.

Looking a bit hesitant at first, Story then shrugged. “What the hell, it’s Vegas, right?” Sliding over, he took the rolled up bill from Lilith and snorted the other line. Then holding his head back, he sniffed loudly.

Shaking his head, he looked at Lilith and said, “Damn, it’s been awhile.” He chuckled.

“Well, Anthony, wanna drink while that buzz kicks in?”

Again, Story almost forgot his undercover name. 

“Anthony?” Lilith prodded.

“Oh, uh, sure Lilith, why not?”

Getting to her feet, she started for the minibar. “Another gin and tonic.”

“Yeah, that’ll be great.” Story stared at her ass as she strolled across the room. Damn, what a perfect ass! “You gonna fix yourself a drink?”

“Thanks. I’ll make two gin and tonics.” 

As she bent over with slightly spread legs to open the mini-fridge, the outside Vegas lights beaming in between the drapes enabled Story to catch a glimpse of her wet and swollen pussy lips. He felt his cock begin to twitch and swell again. 

The mattress bounced as Lilith crawled up onto the bed, handing him his gin and tonic. She smiled at him, lifting her glass to his. “Here’s to you.”

“Right back at ya,” Story said, clinking his glass to hers as the cocaine was starting to take effect.

Lilith quickly downed her drink then sat the glass on the nightstand and crawled onto Story as he was finishing his off. She took the empty glass from his hand and sat it next to hers, then leaned into him, pushing her forehead against his. She ran the tip of her tongue along her lips as she stared into his eyes.

“Anthony, I want you to fuck me from behind.”

“Yeah, sure, I will, oh yeah, I sure will.” His dick was rock hard again.

“And don’t be gentle.” She rubbed her cheek along his until her lips were at his ear and whispered, “Fuck me hard.”

“Your wish is my command.” He grinned.

Grabbing her quickly, he rolled her over as he pulled himself up behind her. His hand ran down her back and slid between her ass cheeks until his fingers found her swollen cunt lips.

“You’re dripping wet.”

“Do something about it, big guy.”

Story snatched her long hair with one hand while he gripped her ass with the other. Reaching underneath herself to his erection, Lilith grabbed the cock and pulled it against her juicy twat. Story pushed inside her.

He yanked hard on her hair as he felt his swollen dick plow into her juicy cunt. Lilith’s purring moan could be heard along with the lightly squeaking bed as he began pushing in and out of her. Story yanked her hair harder.

“Oh fuck, yeah!” screamed Lilith, “Give me that fuckin’ cock! Fuck me! Hard, goddammit!”

Story smashed his torso against her ass cheeks, skin slapping loudly as he pulled her head back. 

“How’s that?”

“Give it to me, fucker!” Lilith’s shouting became inaudible and transitioned into loud panting, moaning, and desperate gasping.

Still using her hair to pull her head back, Story continued mercilessly thrusting his pulsating cock into her dripping snatch for quite a while. Her juices oozed down her inner thighs, splattering with each collision. Then he leaned over her more and grabbed her throat with his other hand, gently choked her.

Lilith gasped and grunted. As soon as he loosened his grip she yelled out, “Yes, motherfucker! Yes!”

He choked slightly harder and her moans and yells were stifled to guttural grunts. The room still echoed with the slapping sounds of his torso banging against her sweaty ass cheeks and juicy twat.

“Yeah, you like that?” He gave her another choke.

“Yes, you fucker.”

“Tell me again.”

“I like it, asshole!” Lilith growled like a jungle cat. “Fuck my slutty cunt, you motherfucker!”

Story glanced at the mirrors above and in front of them. Even in the dim light, he could see the sheen of sweat covering their entire bodies, glimmering as if a coat of oil was lathered over their entirety.

Looking down at her, he saw sweat pooling on her lower back, “Take it you, horny little slut. Take my fucking cock!”

“Oh fuck! I love it!” Again Lilith growled. To Story, her growl sounded almost nonhuman, as if some wild animal had possessed her. 

She grunted something inaudible as her body stiffened. Suddenly startled, he saw Lilith’s muscles quickly become tight and sinewy as her body tensed. Lilith screamed. She yelled out something but he could not recognize what she had said. It wasn’t in English nor was it any language he’d ever heard. 

Suddenly, he felt her cunt grip his cock tighter than a pussy had ever gripped it before. A long, loud exhale emitted from Lilith’s throat as Story pulled his hand away from her throat. Her skin against his turned so hot it felt as if she would burn him.

It was then Story’s second orgasm of the evening hit him. It was as if some powerful force was sucking the cum from the deepest part of his testicles. His orgasm exploded like he’d never felt before. 

“I’m cumming!” Lilith shouted.

Story couldn’t utter a word. It was as if he was no longer in control of his body. His orgasm had ripped through him, lingering much longer than usual; it felt almost electrical. He kept pushing into her as she kept screaming. When Story looked down, he saw foamy cum squishing from Lilith’s soppy cunt onto his aching pecker.

Finally, Lilith pulled forward off his cock, freeing him, and he fell onto the bed. A feeling of total exhaustion swept over him, and he lay motionless as Lilith rolled onto her back beside him.

She wiped sweat from her face. Story turned his face to her. “Goddamn, you were great.”

Lilith sat up on the bed, her back to him. “You’re a pretty good fuck yourself.”

He hadn’t heard a woman say anything like that since he’d left New York several months before.

Lilith turned back to him and asked, “You wanna another gin and tonic?”

“That would hit the spot right now for damn sure.” Story started wiping away sweat that was burning eyes. Then he watched as Lilith, her body wet all over, walked over to the mini-bar.

With her back to Story, she mixed and stirred his drink before turning and bringing it to him. “Here ya go.” He sat up and took the glass from her.

“You didn’t make one for yourself?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

Being quite thirsty, Story downed the gin quickly then lay back on the bed.

“How do you feel?”

“Oh, hell, I feel great, yeah – oh, um, well now.” Story suddenly felt very tired and the room seemed as if it had started to slowly spin. “I dunno, something feels weir…”


The Desert

Suddenly jolted from his slumber, Story’s feet were yanked upward by an unseen force. Violently he was rolled up inside his bed sheet. 

With all his might, Story pushed at the sheet that was tightly squeezed around him. Multiple hands pushed and pulled as his feet were yanked upward. He felt himself sliding down the bed and he was held aloft. He couldn’t get any leverage. His struggle was useless.

“Hey!” Story shouted. “What the hell is going on? Who is this?”

This isn’t a dream! What the hell is going on?

“What the fuck?”

He could hear voices and could tell numerous men were in the room but no one was responding to his yelling. The sheet was rolled up so tight he could barely squirm. 

“Who are you and why are you doing this?”

Story felt a heavy punch in the gut. 

“Shut up!” The voice was deep and scratchy, like an ultra bass, possibly the dark man Lilith called Asmodeus.

I guess the casino is on to me. This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all. Of fuck, this isn’t good!

Story felt them carrying him until they started stuffing him into what he thought was a maid’s service cart.

“Hey! Let me go!” Story yelled as loud as he could. “Who are you?”

“Somebody shut him up!”

Story didn’t recognize the voice.

Thud! Everything went blank.

Story sat in the dining car of a train. Moving at a high rate of speed it jolted along the tracks. Or was he dreaming?

A sharp pain shot through his skull. It was a headache, a strong one. Story realized he was awake and had been dreaming. He wasn’t on a train at all. No, but he wished he had been. He was still wrapped up too tight to maneuver in his bed sheet from the hotel.

I’m in a fucking car trunk. Goddammit, those assholes have shoved me into a car trunk!

Struggling hard, he still couldn’t get free from his tightly wrapped, bed sheet cocoon. It felt like they’d wrapped the sheet in duct tape.

Losing track of time, Story had no idea how long they had driven with him in the trunk. He could tell though, that they were not driving on a paved road. It was very hot and he was sure they were driving him deep into the desert. 

By the time the car stopped, Story was barely conscious from the heat and dehydration.

Two hefty men discarded their suit jackets before opening the trunk of the car. They yanked Story, wrapped in his sheet and tightly duct taped, from the boot and carried him past a group of their peers to a hole dug in the desert sand.

Story’s head cleared enough for him to finally feel that he was awake and aware of his surroundings.




The Revelation

Story squirmed as best he could to look around. No sounds of helicopters or police sirens could be heard, just the eerie hot wind of the desert and the voices of his abductors.

Breaking away from the jeering group, a man strolled over to where Story was buried. The lizard scampered off. Story squeezed his eye lids tight to force the sweat out of his eyes. He recognized the man with perfect features from the photos he’d seen.


“Yes, that’s me, Donatello. Or shouldn’t I say Story, Justin Story of that gossip rag, the Continental Post?”

“How did you-“

“C’mon, now,” Natas sneered, “we knew before you left D.C.”

“But how?”

“I know everything.”

Noticing Story looking at the tarp spread out a few feet away, Natas barked to his men. “Pull that tarp back.”

One of the brutes, sweat soaked armpits ruining the tailored shirt he wore, stepped over and drew back the tarp. Staring with motionless eyes skyward were both Lieutenant Stowe and Detective Simms, their heads exposed above their sandy graves. Insects already crawled in and out of their nostrils and opened mouths.

“Oh God!” shouted Story in a panic.

Bellowing with laughter, Natas looked skyward. “He’s not here right now.” Then he squatted down over Story’s head.

“Who are you?” Story begged. Lieutenant Stowe told me that even the Mafia was scared of these guys. Who the fuck are they?

At that Natas started to glow. As he stood back up, Story could see Natas silhouetted by a blinding light.

As the light subsided, sporting a wide grin Natas almost laughed as he answered, “I am the choir master.”

“Huh?” A loud sigh demonstrated Story’s exasperation.

“Didn’t you ever go to Sunday School, Story?” Laughing again, Natas turned and walked toward the black Lincoln-Continentals.

“Please don’t leave me here like this! Can’t I do something, anything, anything at all? I am a great journalist. Can’t I can do something for you?” This can’t be fucking real. Hell, he can’t be – no fucking way. l don’t believe in that shit.

Natas stopped and half turned back toward Story. “Oh believe it, I am fucking real.”

How did he know what I was thinking?

 “Oh, and by the way, I have more journalists than I need.” Natas shook his head and grinned.

“But I do have a huge following!” I can’t believe I’m going to die out here like this.

Natas scratched his chin. “That rag of yours does have a huge readership.”

“Boss, I hope we aren’t gonna hafta dig that asshole up?” one of the henchmen shrugged.

Motioning him off with his hand, Natas turned toward Story and started walking to him. “Asmo, do we have any contracts with us?”

“Yes sir, boss, we never go anywhere without them.”

Stopping above Story, Natas reached out to take a rolled up parchment from Asmodeus. He again squatted in front of Story as he unrolled the parchment for Story to see.

“Um, it’s not in English. What is that?” Story whined.

“You don’t need to know. You just need to sign it.” Despite being buried neck deep in the scorching desert sand, Natas' smile sent a cold chill down Story’s back.

“But I can’t sign it.” Story jerked his head toward his buried shoulder and arm.

“Somebody dig his arm out so he can sign this.” Natas rolled his eyes.

“And just exactly what am I signing?

“C’mon, you know what it is,” Natas said, laughing.

I wish I didn’t know what I’m signing.

With sweat stinging his eyes, Story peered into the sky, waiting for Natas’ men to dig his arm free from the burning sand. He glanced over at the exposed heads of the two detectives, lifelessly staring at the sky above where several hungry turkey vultures circled. The sound of their shrill squawking shot tendrils of icy fear through his entire being. This scorching desert suddenly felt like an appropriate place to sell his soul.


This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright ©2017 All Rights Reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of the author, Buz Bono.

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