~ “Demon’s Throat”...(By The Neck...the full story) ~

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DemonsThroat_11.17.11.10.7.19

“Demon’s Throat”
(By The Neck...the full story)
By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
11.17.11

http://demonsthroathallow.blogspot.com/2011/12/demons-throat.html
https://www.wattpad.com/220154957-demon%27s-throat
http://blackinamerica.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?blog_id=290777&cid=10
http://hbcuconnect.com//content/290849/demon-s-throat
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/demon-s-throat

...As he began to cut her smooth and tender throat, blood began to flow. Then it gushed and dripped like a geyser, only it pumped from one of her capillaries with violent intentions.
“If I can’t have you, then nobody can!” He said.

Her violations…she dared to make love with another...someone other than he – whom she has never known or loved.

“Hold it…hold it! Now, just wait a minute! Whatever the fuck was just said…that mutha’s full of shit! No one can tell this story any better than me! Shit, I was there! It happened to me...

A home… A normal home that very well could be your next-door neighbor, your cousin, aunt, uncle, and friends and yes…your parents or any other closely related relationships.

“When this guy is finished talking, hopefully, he’ll shut the fuck up and let me talk!”

“It all started on one Friday evening when he came in from work. He, the motherfucker – mister big shit was getting ready to take his ass out – without me – on the town with his boys.
He said, “I’m going out on the town with the boys tonight!”
He had the nerve to laugh; you know…one of them big belly laughs like you’d hear in a bar full of drunks and whores. It sounded like this, “hee, hee, hee, huh, huh, huh.” And he gave me one of those great big ‘Cheshire-cat’ grins. Ya know, like the cat that got the mouse that ate the cheese, like the fat cat in ‘Alice in Wonderland.’
I said to him, “Walter – what about the bills? What about Lil-Rocky’s coat for school?
Me and Walter had five kids, ya know.”

“I remember this familiar feeling, for about the third time in three months; of falling – falling down. The falling only came to an end for one reason – maybe two. The point is…I was able to grab onto something in order to break my fall. The primary reason is coming to a complete and utter dead end stop – at the bottom of the stairway, which began at the second floor landing. It didn’t necessarily matter to what position your body was in when this complete and utter stop completed the descent. Albeit, stair-steps and bottom of the stairway landings come into play, the stop is at the bottom of the stairs.”

This tri-epoch flight had a dizzying effect upon the woman.

“What the hell do you mean, ‘the woman...?’ My eyeballs, most of the time, could see the damn fall…I could see the entire trip, all the bumpy-fuckin way down!” Exclaimed the woman.
“Oh…wait a minute. Excuse me my manners…I forgot you was tellin somebody about me…my name is Wynetta Octavia Henderson,’ ya’ll don’t need to know the names of my kids...just remember that devil, Walter!”

Wynetta felt like she was a thing as opposed to being a human being...a woman. The abusive, excuse me - the physically abusive relationship wasn’t always such. Oh, yes…it started out like many (homogenous) serene relationships. What makes these happy couplings take such evil and drastic directions” Who can answer this question? Can it be you?

Walter got, as some would describe, the seven-year itch – in less than five years. Walter felt trapped in this relationship. Walter felt smothered. Walter wanted out.

Wynetta and Walter were young lovers when they met. The couple was then, eighteen and nineteen when they stumbled across one another. They were lucky. They were allowed into an establishment that served alcoholic beverages…an upscale nightclub. They considered themselves luckier than their peers because they had access to things that weren’t allowed at their age level. They felt privileged. The traditional after-wedding soiree`- the reception, if you will, allowed the young Wynetta to attend because of her first cousin, ‘Bev,’ had just tied the knot. Young Mister Walter Henry Henderson was the buddy of the groom. Well…I need not tell you, the caterer or any other adult, of course, did not card them. And for that matter, neither was any other young person under the age of twenty-one years of age. The wine, liquor, and beer flowed – for hours upon hours. More than half the party attendees were found to be drunk or pretty near drunk. The wedding party, for the most part was a success – it was a good time for all.

“I, Thaddeus Bartholomew Wiseman, was privy to the festivities and goings-on because I was the designated photographer and kin-folk to ‘Raymond,’ the groom. Everything else...somebody told me.”

The couple fell over each other when the bride threw her garter to the men-folk. Walter was standing there with his left hand full of the left ass cheek of a bridesmaid, the ex-classmate of Beverly and Wynetta.

Oh Lord yes…he had a good grip on it too. I know, cause he pissed me off. I was mad because it wasn’t me who had a hand full of the woman’s ass. Wynetta was trying to catch the bouquet after the guy she was dating caught the garter. She missed and fell right on the left arm of the guy with the good grip – a handful of plump, ripe, juicy, and ready for plucking ass…an ass he had been wanting to pump all night – after seeing her again after all those lost years – winning the opportunity because she said, “Yes...right after we leave here!”

Wynetta’s crouch took the place of Tawanna’s ass. At first he was pissed. This heifer took me away from the pleasure of a promised night. Wynetta’s gown was pulled up because she didn’t want to fall over the long white hem of the garment. She exposed her legs in order to jump for the flowered and catchable, but elusive, bridal bouquet. Her shoeless feet enabled her to gain an advantage over the other excited le-femme-fatale. She jumped. She jumped up pretty damn high too. Tawanna didn’t. She was happy and comfortable with the warm grip underneath her flowing gown - her left cheek. She merely reached for the flowers in a disconcerted manner...a matter of show.

The tranquility was broken by Wynetta’s wide spread jumping legs. She was using Tawanna’s shoulder inadvertently, to capture the petaled prize. He failed. She landed, instead, on the arm of some guy in the crowd. It was Walter’s arm. He didn’t know her, or she him, but that was his left arm and hand between the legs of the shoeless barelegged Wynetta. They both tumbled to the floor. She was a bit embarrassed at first. She did see his hand up the ass of her friend when no one else noticed. The girls, throughout their friendship, have been in competition for the attention of the opposite sex. It was fun and challenging competition. Walter and Wynetta didn’t bother to scold or apologize; they simply smiled and laughed while they smiled at one another. Tawanna frowned and walked away. Walter and Wynetta were seeing each other, more often than not – after that matrimonial interlude.

Soon after the first two children, Walter and Wynetta’s lust and sexual interludes became less frequent. The fire didn’t go out, it didn’t stop. The heat was still on. In the evening, upon his arrival home, and especially before leaving in the morning, the bed squeaked loudly with violent lovemaking thrusts. His left hand – and the right one too - still grabbed, squeezed, massaged, rolled, and soothed the left side of her ass – the right cheek too. We won’t discuss what happened between her...well, you know.
As time passed, the third, fourth, and fifth child came in succession. Walter, in his lust, though lack-luster at times continued to please his woman...and a few other as well – with that left hand and the right.

Somewhere along the way, the right hand picked up a nasty habit. It learned to slap with the backside as well as the front. It gained a lot of practice. It became a junky…it liked to slap – backwards and forwards. It learned to punch as well. It began to teach the left hand the same nasty habit. It too began to enjoy the feeling of the slap and punch. The knees and feet became envious. They wanted to share in the fun. They wanted to join in on the fun…only they couldn’t slap or punch. They could only kick and stomp.

Wynetta didn’t like it…not one damn bit. This shit had to stop. She thought, “I may very well wake up dead – or never make it to sleep – just plain ole ordinary dead…controlled by the left and right hands and both knees and feet of this animal – this fool named Walter!”

“I went to the cops. I told them what was going on. They didn’t give a damn. They referred me to the Battered Women’s Shelter. They referred me to the Battered Women’s Association – or some bullshit quasi-bureaucratic agency. They also referred me to some fuckin where else.
The District Attorney’s Office suggested I take out a peace bond…that’s a restraining order for you mutha’s that can’t speak Ebonics. Now, that piece of shit paper would cost me more than forty bucks and a bunch of wasted time – just waiting. Meanwhile…Walter continued to kick my ass - at will!”

Wynetta had had enough. She sought the advice of others. Many of the advisors were referred via people she knew and those she didn’t. Her momma’s cousin, ‘Jackie,’ knew the perfect contact for making wishes - personal unofficial requests, and/or astral contacts and companions of communicators of and with the dead. The prospect scared the hell out of the advice, protection, and revenge seeking woman. Yeah, she was scared – apprehensive – reluctant.
“Cousin Jackie, how do I meet this woman and what do I have to do to keep this dirty rotten motherfucker off my ass – and out of my life?”
Cousin Jackie’s face went cold and stoic. She was pissed that her relative was getting her ass kicked - on a regular basis.
“I know this woman’s ancestors have been hounded by the inquisitors of the Great Inquisition since the 1500’s.” Cousin Jackie’s eyes were wide and true as she described in great belief, the ‘Black Mass’ – the Sabbat and the ‘Fairies Circle.’ The woman, Miss Aggie – ‘Agnes Huntsonmauker,’ knows just what to do and whom to contact.
“Netta, you go down to Salem Avenue near Dock Street. Then walk north on Dock Street to west on Springler Street near Arch. Walk up the block – count twenty-four paces and stop. Blink three times while squeezing you buttocks real tight, as if you’re taking a shit. Then look straight at the door on your left. The door will have on it the picture of a lil black dog.
“Cousin, there’s no such place…”
“Yeah…I know the location is not supposed to exist…trust me, Chile – it does exist…its there. You just have to believe it!”

A cold chill went up and down Wynetta’s spine. She was poised to change her mind and get the hell away from her cousin when a vision of her youngest child’s face appeared in her minds eye. She was the youngest – the baby. ‘Angelique’ turned six years old last week. She saw her momma get her ass kicked all of her life. Wynetta didn’t want her children to see that shit…no more. She followed Cousin Jackie’s instructions and there she stood – facing the strong double brown chestnut and oak framed doors of 66 W. Springer Mill Avenue. It had the image of a little black dog on it. The breed of the canine was unrecognizable. But its eyes looked straight at you with an intimidating and chilling stare. It was quite effective if one decided that he or she was afraid.

On the door, directly under the dog image, were a doorknocker and a button for a bell. Wynetta was deathly afraid. It was a full, warm, and sunny afternoon, about three p.m. – on a Monday. Suddenly it appeared to be nighttime – it was dark and moonlit – the Sun disappeared from view. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The moon was fully lit. The dog looked at her as she reached for the doorbell.

The dog laughed a demonic devils laugh after Wynetta pushed the button that rang the bell. The bell sounded like church bells ringing when the bell ringer played tunes throughout the week and then on Sunday morning. Then the doorknocker knocked – all by itself. It knocked three times with a thunderous effect. The door opened exposing the innards of the dwelling. The long semi-dark corridor was shadowed. Several dull 40-watt red light bulbs illuminated it. At the end of the dark dank hall was a room with a greenish light – a brightly lit green colored room. In its center was a little round clothed table. On top of the covered table was a crystal ball. It was sitting smack in the middle of it. On one side of the green colored room was a bowl-like sink with several large buckets and pots alongside it. On another side of the room was a door. The room had no windows. In the middle of the floor where the table sat, was a massive five pointed star – a pentagram. In a circle that surrounded it, were symbols of the zodiac. On the opposite side of the table, facing Wynetta was an old woman. She was sitting in a chair. She and the chair appeared from what seemed like nowhere. The old woman appeared to be about eighty years of age. Wynetta was sure the old woman was way past eighty.

The mystical looking woman bade Wynetta to sit at the table. Suddenly, there was a chair where one wasn’t before. It was only one chair other than the one in which the old woman sat. The room had no other furnishings. Wynetta sat down in the chair. The old woman stared deeply into the eyes of Wynetta. Her eyes burned deep into her soul. The eyes of the old woman appeared to glow red – red like the eyes of ‘Christopher Lee’s rendition of ‘Dracula.’

Cousin Jackie did attempt to talk her cousin out of making this particular visit. Even she was afraid. She was afraid for Wynetta even though she knew her cousin festered a hatred for Walter that would not waver. She hungered for revenge – and she must have her vendetta fulfilled. Cousin Jackie told Wynetta of “The Witches Sabbat.” She talked of “The Black Mass” and “The Fairies Dance” which involved Elves, Dwarfs, and Dancing Fairies – “Puppet Spirits.”

Cousin Jackie continued on with the lesson in witchcraft history. “Chile…you best be paying attention, cause I ain’t gonna repeat it – and I damn well will deny it all if someone so much as thinks to question me. I’m only tellin you cause I want you to get some justice. The law sure ain’t gonna give you shit!” Her eyes flashed with bad intentions as she thought of the things that Walter was doing and has done to Wynetta.

She explained how horrible and brutal passions filled the soul of man since way back in the 14th century to present day. Although the never-changing analogy of what a witch is supposed to look like is thought of by many to be some “old hallow-eyed, un-toothed, weather and age beaten ole crane with the outside image of a filthy and nasty bag-woman. The inquisitors have chased, hunted, captured, and tortured many such creatures that were accused of witchcraft. One time, long ago, and English Lord…a Chief Justice ignored a case that was proven to be fraudulent. He continued to adamantly ignore the truth even when other justices, his colleagues, requested he dismiss the case. He didn’t listen to them. Such vile creatures repulsed him. A woman, to whom he attempted to hit on, shunned him. He was pissed off – big time!

“Who’d want to roll in the hey with the likes of you? You, with the rotund bottom and jellied jowls… the juice of spit escaping from those juicy over-sized lips. Lips that spray slimy moisture upon speaking to folk. Don’t you dare lay that puffed slippery hand on me again – or I’ll have it cut off and fed to that mangy beast lying in yon corner.”
The barmaid, a sweaty wild crimson-haired beauty with tits like the perfect melon, atop a slender waist of perfectly rounded hips, complimented by a smoothed inviting ass, supported by a pair of smoothed and sensuously molded legs, laughed as she sashayed away from the justice. She had no knowledge of his station. She did not know he was a chief justice with the power of life and death. However, several of the pub patrons did. They quickly made a hasty retreat – they got the hell out of the bar. The others sat and laughed with the barmaid. They were thrilled with the pleasurable, yet desirable, sexual, teasing of the tavern maid. She sat on the lap of one while kissing on the lips of another.

Needless to say, the judge was not only embarrassed, he felt humiliated by this voluptuous tramp of a woman – a woman he desired but could not have. He fumed and roared when he threw his goblet of strong-brew at her.
“Be damned woman…you shall rue the day that thou hast jilted me. Ye shall not laugh and mock me. I shall have my revenge upon thee – you will beg to slop my feet long before it ends…Bitch!”

She and the patrons laughed some more.

The justice staggered with plumpness out of the doors, which led out into the darkened, and rain soaked streets. The road was paved with cobble, causing the rounded little man to slip and fall in the slime and gutter muck. He made it to his residence in haste as he planned his revenge.

Constables knocked down the door of the barmaid’s sister. They turned over everything in the woman’s house. The baby lay sleeping in its cradle near the open hearth. It was a cold and particularly dark night. At 4 a.m., the raging men dragged the barmaid’s sister from her bed. She was torn from the arms of her shoemaker husband. The screams could be heard throughout the shire. Even down the street between the cracks in the door and windows of the pub, where the barmaid danced.

The baby was thrown into the fire of the open hearth while the husband was shot, point blank, through the skull. The musket ball was fired from the flintlock of a constable. The mother screamed in utter horror. The terrifying event was filled with horrific and complete intentional homicide. The husband could do nothing to prevent the slaughter of his family. All he could do was lay there in the pool of gore while the leaking crimson fluid oozed from the open wound – his eyes were open wide like that of a zombie. He was completely dead. The woman struggled and fought in vain as she attempted to reach her child and husband.

“Shut up bitch, thou art damned – vile witch – devil worshipper – lover of demons – ye shall not live – thou shalt burn in the hell thee has craved!” The arresting chief constable spit on her face and kicked it with his boot. The blow crushed her jaw and sent teeth flying. They dragged her semi-conscious body out into the street. Her home was set ablaze. She saw this as she was driven away in an open horse-drawn wagon – in chains.

The barmaid rushed up the street to her sister’s house. She was aghast with the view of the burning domicile. She then turned and chased the wagon to which her beloved sister was chained and drawn away. She could not run fast enough to catch the galloping horse.

A neighbor of the sister walked over and embraced the sorrow filled wretch of a woman. The barmaid screamed at the citizens. Many of them tried in vain to put out the raging inferno for fear of losing their homes to flying burning cinders. The barmaid pleaded for someone to tell her what has happened to her sister – her family. A neighbor spoke to her and told her what he knew.
“They said, your sister housed familiars. They said, she wore the mark of demons upon her body – she had inscribed the image of a little black dog on her buttocks, her husband had the imprint of a white rabbit on his shaft, and the infant wore a toad. The floor of the house had a five-pointed star painted upon it. They said, she that she was in bed with many demons formed from the semen of her husband when copulation took place. They said she was a succubus who was subject to Beelzebub to commit the seven deadly sins – to seduce all men into bed and bring forth more evil creatures to prey on our families. They said, they would eat the young, deceive and slaughter our old folk, and suck dry the souls of our young men. They said, she is said to be a most powerful witch!”

The barmaid crumpled to the dirt, mud, and muck-laden street in deep sorrow. She knew that she was the cause of it all – had she simply complied to the fat man’s desires, her sister and family would not have been accosted. All she had to do was entertain him and take his money. She did neither. She was repulsed by a sense of evilness upon the rotund foul smelling man.

She later found out the loathsome creature was the chief justice of the province. She had to go to him…now.

*********

Now, one must bear in mind, with a certainty, devils have a profound knowledge of all things – according to many manuals and encyclopedias on witchcraft and demonology. No theologian can interpret the Holy Scriptures better than they can; no lawyer has a more detailed knowledge of testaments, contracts, and/or its actions; no physician or philosopher can better understand the composition of the human body, and the virtues of the heavens, the stars, birds, beasts, fishes, metals, and stones better than they.
It’s been reported, that Satan possesses great courage, incredible cunning, superhuman wisdom, the most acute penetration, consummate prudence, an incomparable skill in viewing the most pernicious artifices under a specious disguise, and a malicious and infinite hatred towards the human race. Its disposition is implacable and incurable.
Many disbelieved in the incubus demons. The inquisitors met considerable opposition from towns-folk to a frequency that they continually complained. They believed confessions were only extorted by torture.

This evidence has been proven time and time again. The devil’s power remains ever constant - especially when it pertains to those that say he doesn’t exist. The power also resides in the fact of disbelief in him or his demons. The evidence is important. It disproves a common conception that the less educated people were prone to believe in witchcraft while the educated opposed it. It’s also said the reverse is true. Witchcraft was a notion evolved primarily by the inquisition and opposed by the people, as staged by a handful of lawyers and physicians. The continued pounding buy these few, accompanied by the new doctrine after decades, did public support for the delusion grow.

Its level of hierarchy can identify a classification of devils. ‘Michaelis Psellus’ was identified as one of the experts or demonologists in several text recordings. He contends that at least two species of demons could have no communication with witches. Another expert, ‘Alphonsus de Spina, records ten varieties of devils. He wrote:

1) - Fates: those that have seen them say they are not women but demons.
2) - Poltergeists: who do little tricks at night. They break things, pull of bedclothes, and make footstep noises overhead and move things while doing little damage.
3) – Incubi and Succubi: when awakened in the morning, they find themselves polluted as it they had slept with men. Nuns are especially subject to these types of devils.
4) – Marching Hosts: they appear like hordes of tumultuous men.
5) – Familiar Demons: they eat and drink with men in imitation of the Angel of Tobit.
6) – Nightmare Demons: these demons terrify men in their dreams.
7) – Demons Formed From Semen and its odor: when men and women copulate. These demons also cause men to dream of women so the demons can “receive their emission and make from it a new spirit or spirits.”
8) – Deceptive Demons: these types sometimes appear as men and sometimes as women.
9) – Clean Demons: these demons have been known to assail only the Holy men – they are not as they’re titled – they are really most foul.
10) – Demons Who Deceive old women into thinking they are flying to Sabbat – “The Black Mass.”

Many other demonologists entertain a different point of view. The hierarchy of devils, as defined by ‘Peter Binsfeld,’ the Bishop of Triar, became a well-known theologian writer, who achieved fame as a one of the most prominent witch-hunters of his time. Binsfeld wrote the influential treatise De confessionibus maleficorum et sagarum, "Of the Confessions of Warlocks and Witches", translated into several languages (Trier, 1589). This work discussed the confessions of alleged witches, and claimed that even if such confessions were produced by torture they should still be believed.

His definition of devils: “The Seven Deadly Sins”
Lucifer – Pride
Mammon – Avarice
Asmodeus - Lechery
Satan – Anger
Beelzebub – Gluttony
Leviathan – Envy
Belphegor – Sloth

Mammon became the Prince of Tempters and Ensnarers. “Whereas, Asmodeus is the revenger of evil.” Satan of Deluders, Beelzebub of false Gods, serve conjurers and witches. To these demons, Pytho was introduced as “Prince of the Spirits of Lies,” “Belial of Vessels of Iniquity” (gambling, cards, and dice), “Merihem of Spirits” causing pestilence, “Abaddan of Evil War,” and “Astaroth “ as Prince of Accusers and Inquisitors.”

The work of ‘Father Sebastian Michaelis,’ a celebrated exorcist, was included in on of the most complete lists of devils and their functions. ‘Balberith,’ a demon that possessed ‘Sister Madeleine,’ at ‘Aix-En-Province,’ obligingly reported to the priest more than one devil was in possession of the nun. He added the special saints whose main function was to oppose them.

Devils were angels who had rebelled and fallen. Although cast out from the heavens, they maintained their rank within the hierarchy. The first hierarchy consists of Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones. The second is Dominions, Principalities, and Powers, the third being Virtues, Archangels, and Angels.

The word Devil is or means the personification of Supreme Evil, the foe or opposite of God. Devils are synonymous with demons fiends, malignant beings of super human power. This means the devil, or Beelzebub, becomes the Prince of Devils. The Devil is theologically the supreme embodiment of evil. A person can sign a pact with the devil of sell his or her soul to the devil, whereas, a witch may work with a demon of minor devil.

A person who is accused of fornicating with a devil, receiving a devils mark, of asking for the help of a devil is working acts of ‘Maleficia,’ the possessing agent in demonical possession is also presumed to be a representative of Satan (Malleus Maleficarum, 1487). The Devil exists and has the power to do astounding things - witches exist to help, if done through the aid of the Devil and with the permission of God. The Devil’s power is greatest where human sexuality is concerned, for it was believed that women were more sexual than men. Libidinous women had sex with the Devil, thus paving their way to become witches. According to the Malleus “all witchcraft comes from carnal lust, which is in women insatiable.”

The Egyption Jews of the third century B.C. used the word ‘Diablolos’ when speaking of the devil. The Hebrew Satan, an angelic entity whose fundtion was to test man’s fidelity to God, was not evil. This entity became identified as evil with his functionality – (Job)-(Luke).
Two different conceptions were fused. This belief caused many people to erroneously believe the Christian idea of an evil demi-God was known to the Hebrews before the Babylonian captivity. The idea of an arch-fiend developed later, under Persian influence.
Abaddon – a destroyer, in Hebrew, is the “Angel of the bottomless pit.” He was also called ‘Belial’ or ‘Lucifer’ is the name given by patristic writers. They knew him as Satan before his fall. He has appeared as a Black Boy and/or a huge man. He had been seen as a beast having legs and feet like those of an ass, and as leopards, bears, horses, wolves, and scorpions. The most dangerous manifestation of a devil was the appearance as an angel. Many of these demons lived under the Earth. They could not stand the rays of the Sun and were unable to endure the extreme cold. This is said to be one of the reasons they sought shelter and lodgings within the body of beasts.

The stigmata, devils’ mark, or the devil’s seal occur in nearly all reports of witches or witch trials, according to witch hunters and provincial magistrates of the latter centuries. This belief and practice illustrate how perverted intelligence and hysterical stupidity could and did misinterpret natural phenomena which brought about the murder of thousands of men, women, and children. The “Devil’s Mark” was often confused with the “Witch’s Mark.” Witch hunters accepted either as sufficient proof to establish a persons practice of witchcraft. The distinction or difference was the devil’s mark resembled a scar, birthmark, or tatoo. The witches mark was a protuberance on the body. This mark enabled families of witchery to identify one another. Families were supposed to essentially suck on the spot of the mark.
The devil sealed the compact with the witches by giving them some sort of mark or identification on the body…like a rancher branding his livestock.

Judges should always, according to their beliefs, pull out hair, and shave (whenever the occasion arises) the body of the accused, lest the mark be located in a place that is under hair and other hidden body areas. The finding of these marks was the best proof of a witch. Finding the mark was sufficient to justify torture in search of truth. If one had a mole or some form of a birthmark or skin blemish, you could very well be suspect to witchcraft.

*********

The innkeeper’s barmaid cried uncontrollably. Her sister, to the best of her knowledge, had none of these upon her body. After all, she bathed her younger sister for most of her life.

Witchcraft was a notion evolved primarily by the inquisitors and its supporters. The women lost her home, husband, and child due to the power of evil. The barmaid’s sister did not get a hearing, trial, nor was she spoken to. She was tethered to the wooden pole in the middle of the shire’s courtyard. The timber underneath was set ablaze. She was semi-conscious and naked to the skin. Her semi-conscious state was replaced with utter and complete coherence. The pain suffered from the beating took a back seat to that of the flames. She died of a broken heart, bones, and sheer torture. Her sister planned revenge. Her decision to submit for forgiveness had morphed from sadness into that of evil intentions – hatred of this man for the death of her sweet innocent sister.

The barmaid of the innkeeper’s pub, knew of a woman who could and would provide aid to her plan of vengeance. There is a Sabbat nearly every day. The witches gather together with the sounding of a cornet. The horn is blown by one of the devils. The woman, known to the barmaid, produced a paper. The paper didn’t feel like paper. It rather felt like dried skin. Upon a closer inspection, the parchment began to take on a definitive feel of human skin. It seemed to heave – as though breathing – taking a breath. It looked like the chest of a man. There were pores on the parchment. The dried and scaly material had hair upon it. It also had stains of dried blood and two flattened and pressed nipples. The barmaid signed her name on the parchment, sealing the contract – the pact. The barmaid signed her name in blood…her own blood.
In a flash, the room went black – void of all light. The moonlit sky all but disappeared. Thunder roared. Lightning flashed during and afterward. Then complete and utter silence – a dead deathly silence. The room and everywhere around it flared a blinding light of red…a bright red light that for an instant, lit up everywhere and everything. A horn sounded. It was the loudest sound ever heard – anywhere – at any time. Yet, it had a familiar sound, a soothing sound – a sound that has been heard before. It was the sound of a cornet.

Wynetta experienced exactly the same when she, in her own blood, signed the parchment on the table. She too, was afraid but her anger, desire, and thirst for revenge, killed that fear.

The barmaid started to feel a change. She began to feel the change of helplessness being siphoned from her body. The feeling of helplessness began to morph into something sinister. It was a taste unlike any other, a taste she’d never known. The taste was Indescribable. The feeling…oh man, the feeling was incredulous!

“My God…the pleasure of it all,” said the barmaid to others at “the Black Mass.” She shouted aloud. “Oh my Lord…I wish this pleasure of waves and contentment continue forever more…ohm, ash!” The climaxes…the sexual satisfaction of orgasm, over, and over, again. She also felt growth. The night of the Sabbat seemed to linger on and on. The night seemed to never end…but it was way too short. It ended too soon.

Wynetta experienced the same thing.

The barmaid found, upon her morning start; wash-up and a regimen of hygienic rituals, a growth on her body. She felt something that wasn’t there before. She felt her breasts. She felt her nipples and began to massage them, gently, oh so gently. They were tender…tender indeed.
The barmaid’s breasts were sore. They were sore from intense sexual usage…she remembered the most pleasurable encounter. She remembered the signing of a pact. She remembered the signing of her name in blood upon the skin-like parchment, the red firestorm and the feeling of vaginal penetrations – she found it extremely pleasurable. She remembered being licked, rubbed, and suckled. Not only was her breasts suckled…her ass, vagina, toes, and most everything else on her body was suckled on by little impish devils whose lips and teeth seemed to be permanently attached. The newly formed nipples under her breasts, left and right, were just ripe for nipple sucking.

The barmaid had been initiated and welcomed in to the fold – the “Witches Coven.” She had become a ‘Sucubus.’ She had pleasurable sexual relations with demons and devils – she received the “Devils Mark” – the sealed compact of Satan.

With witches, the devil sealed the contract of soul for service by giving the barmaid the mark of identification – just like a rancher branding his cattle – a note or token of his power and prerogative over her.

Wynetta did and felt the same thing. She too, had become a Succubus.

Walter was no angel…not by a long shot. Albeit, he beat his wife. He was not always a monster – at least before age seventeen. He always did like the ladies. He was not a particularly good looking chap, but he had a way…a way the ladies liked. His bedroom prowess was better than average and the word got around. The weekend house parties that marked the norm for his neck of the woods, while growing into manhood had a hand in it too. All the females wanted to slow-dance with Walter. He did pretty good with fast and loose dances too. Many of the fellas were a bit pissed with him for stealing their dates. They couldn’t figure out his technique.
When he was out hanging with the boys, he would just laugh and tease them.
“It’s all in the hips boys…all in the hips and lips.” He never said whose hips and lips.

Walter was always one of those guys who was never broke. He always had money in his pocket. Somehow, he always had a gig after school and the weekends. He hustled newpapers, worked the neighborhood stores, factories, warehouses, and shopping malls. He drove a nice car, not particularly new, but nice. They were bought with his own money from hustling and working. Walter would tease the guys at parties, school, and while hanging out on the corner or whereever we’re messing around. They all wanted to know how to be as frugal as he.

“Fellas, that punk ass chump change I make while working is just for show. The mother fuckin real doe is in dope, numbers, liquor, and gambling. I like the ‘craps’ and ‘poker’…that’s where the big money is.”

After Walter and Wynetta married, the fun for them had ebbed. He lost his happy go lucky spirit. The thrill of the married life went out the window…especially after their first two babies were born. He didn’t have the time to party and hang-out with the boys anymore… He missed the thrill of bedding any woman he wanted…he wanted and wished for that life again. He wanted it badly.

“Damn,” he said aloud to himself while sitting in a bar one Friday night after work. He worked as a maintenance supervisor at one of the major human support centers. He wanted to be the head supervisor in the maintenance and transportation departments. A dude walked in with the finest looking chick he’d ever seen. The guy wore a solid gold and diamond watch. He wore $300.00 alligator shoes topped by the finest three piece suit that money could buy. The good-looking red-haired woman winked and smiled at him. He smiled back. He wanted that woman. He wanted what that man had. He wanted that life of flash again. But, the married life stood in his way.
“I would sell my soul…to just once again live my life – single and free!”

The Fates were upon him. Mammon called to him. Bilial beckoned him to join the group in the back room for a bit of craps or a hand of poker. Leviathon was in the back room with Balberith, Verrine, Gressil, Asmodeus, Sonneillon, Pytho, Carreu, Carnivean, Oeillet, Rosier, Verrier, and Lucifer. Beelzebub sat down next to Walter at the bar. He introduced himself as ‘Bubby.’ Bubby shook his hand and bought another round of drinks for he and Walter.
Lucien left Familia at the bar when he joined the boys in the back room. She continually eye balled Walter. He in turn could not help staring back. This continued on for a while…about an hour that seemed like two.

Bubby hugged and squeezed Walter. He hugged him like he was his long-lost brother…his best friend. Walter reciprocated the affections. Bubby winked and smiled, “I know a little something about humans, Walt.”
With his hand and shoulder firmly in the grip of Bubby, Walter replied, “What’s that Bub?” He laughed. He assuredly believed that Bubby was laughing with him. He was not. Beelzebub was laughing, unbeknownst by Walter, at him.
“Humans like to fuck! I know that you two are about to discuss a couple of things,” he said while smiling from ear to ear and winking at Walter and Familia.
“Go on over there and talk to her before her eyelids break from all that winking…it’s okay, Lucien won’t mind…he won’t mind at all. In fact, he wishes you to have nothing but luxury.” And with that, Bubby skipped off the bar stool and strolled into the back room. Familia slid off from where she was seated, with her drink in hand and reseated her voluptuous ass into a booth on the far wall on the other side of the room. It presented a cozy and darkened atmosphere. The table was candle lit. The setting had these cute little round globes of red glass wrapped in light and stringy mesh with the candle inside. Her greenish colored eyes looked at him. They blinked the blink of come hither.

Walter looked around the room a couple of times. He noticed there were no windows in the joint except for the little Marquee’ type front glass at the entrance way. He suddenly felt cold. He became nervous. He looked back in the direction of Familia. She blinked, smiled, and puckered her full and inviting lips.
He swallowed a deep dry swallow. He emptied his drink into his mouth, cooling his parched throat. Walter ordered another double Scotch and one for the lady. Then, he sauntered over to the booth where Familia was seated.
“Hello pretty lady, my name is Walter and I’d like to sit down and enjoy some time with you.”
“Oh you would, would you?”
Just for a second, Walter lost his nerve…his confidence. He dreaded rejection, especially a woman who looks like her. But, it was only for a second. Walter suddenly regained his composure and the courage and confidence returned. It was the confidence of a Prince.
“Yes…I would!”
“Well, Lovely Walter, my lovely man…please, have yourself a seat. Please be comfy and enjoy your time with me.”

Walter found new enjoyment with his newly found friends. He’d never experienced such pleasures as found with Familia. Bubby and Lucien were his constant companions. Everything he wanted and every job he wanted was his for the taking. No one fucked with Walter. In confidence, he espoused his desires to Bubby and Lucien – his friends. Lucien promised him all that he desired. All he had to do was sign the promissory document and everything he wanted would be his.

Walter hesitated when he felt the material of the parchment. It felt like skin, dried skin. The ink was a peculiar shade of red. But then, so was the lighting in the room. The “Cutty Sark” he was sipping did nothing to dismay him. Familia caressed and kissed him tenderly. No one out shot Walter in Craps or beat him in Poker ever since he’d acquired the friendship of his three friends and their cohorts. Walter thought nothing of it when the thunder rolled and the lightning flashed upon his signing of Lucien’s document. He was content with it…he’d get everything he’d ever wanted – especially out of his marriage.

Walter asked Bubby if he should get a divorce from Wynetta, in order to have his freedom. Bubby told him it wouldn’t be necessary.
“Don’t worry about the bitch at home. Let her rot along with the bastards of her womb. You can come and go at your leisure. Familia will go along with it…she doesn’t care about your petty problems – the ole ball and chain – she doesn’t care who you’re married to, she’ll love you long – for as long as it takes. Besides, why should you share your new found riches with that thing back at your house? Did she earn that money? Did she take all the risks in the dice game? What about when you did a favor or two for Lucien and Me? Did she have anything to do with that? – Hell No, She Didn’t! Bubby kept on needling Walter. “She doesn’t deserve any piece of it…none. Besides, if she knew how rich you are, she’d have your ass in court so fast your head would spin faster than an F-5 twister. She’ll take you for everything you’ve got – child support, spousal abuse, neglect of duty, and a whole bunch of trumped up shit. You’ve got to relax and use your head…she’ll want you to blow it. She wouldn’t need you anymore because she’ll have all your money – then she’ll be gone…real soon.”

Bubby smiled a big wide smile. Lucien grinned and laughed aloud. His laugh was really creepy and spooky, thought Walter. He thought about his wife and children and the hurt he has caused. He regretted kicking her down the stairs – especially in front of the children. But, Wynetta got on his nerves. She caused the misery in his life with her fucking questions and begging for money all the time…he’d had enough. He thought about what Bubby said all those minutes ago – about what he knew about humans – how they liked to fuck.

Walter kissed Familia while they sexually embraced and peacefully fell to sleep upon completion. He thought no more of his family – all that now mattered was his pleasure with Familia.
Wynetta heard the blast of the horn. The cornet sounded loud and sweet. She hurriedly finished straightening up the house and get the kids into bed. The neighbor’s daughter was there to watch over them. She didn’t have a date tonight. Friday, last night, was her big date for the weekend. Everything was cool. The sitter had everything she needed, including Wynetta’s cell phone number, for the overnight visit. Walter was out – as usual.

Wynetta wore her best slinky black dress, black spiked heels, perfect hair, and was off into the night. The night was special. This particular meeting tickled her funny-bone. Tonight she had a date. Tonight’s Sabbat would bring forth her long awaited desire – her desire for revenge.

After the coven meeting ended, Wynetta and her tall, strong, and extremely handsome male companion headed out in his “Black Bentley,” to Walter’s favorite haunt.

Wynetta was stunningly gorgeous in her form-fitting and sexually exciting slinky black dress. Around her bare shoulders was a red fox stole. It was complimented with her beautiful long raven hair. She was a knock out. All the men in the bar drooled over her as she floated through the joint and melted into a booth – a well-lit booth. The females went ga-ga over her dashing companion. The tuxedo he wore was of the finest quality and taste. They sat and ordered a round of liquid refreshments before ordering the meal. The waiter brought back two of the tall frothy and fruity drinks with the cherry and umbrella on top.

Familia took a special notice of the extremely exciting woman who’d entered the tavern. She knew who she was and why she was here. She cast a quick glance over to the bar-tender and flicked her long red nails. He pushed a black biretta under the deck of the bar.

Walter was tapped on the shoulder by one of the demons, a helper in the club. Walter was knee-deep in winnings from the crap game. He didn’t want to stop. The attendant whispered in his ear, “Miss Familia wants you!”
What Familia wants – Familia gets. Walter scooped up his dough and shoved the few thousand dollars into his pockets.
“Sorry fellas, duty calls,” he said with a gloating laugh. Bubby and Lucien smiled at each other as Walter left the room. Walter paused just outside the door when he heard an eruption of laughter from behind him – his friends, the hordes of hell. Walter was naïve, ignorant, and oh so unaware.

Walter wondered what all the hoop-la was about out in the bar-room. While walking toward the booth where Familia was sitting, he wondered why all the patrons were looking and smiling at him. He thought, “Oh, it must be the news of my big win – they’ve always smiled and patted me on the back when I had a big win.” Walter always won.

As he approached the booth of his sweetheart, another face and figure caught his attention. Familia smiled a devilishly wicked smile as Walter approached the table. Out of the corner of his right eye, he thought he saw his wife. He looked closely, it was his wife, indeed.
“Surprise sweetie, guess who came to dinner?” Familia’s smile put Walter in “a ball of confusion.” He couldn’t believe his eyes. The drop-dead gorgeous dish of a woman in black was his own Wynetta. He didn’t know the dude. He really didn’t give a shit to know him – he was sitting there with his arm around her, feeling her all over – as if she were his!

Walter was furious and embarrassed.
“What the hell do I do?” he wondered while standing in the middle of the room. Walter felt like someone kicked him in the stomach all the way through to his spine. Flabbergasted, he sat down next to Familia. His wife and companion got up to dance to the lively music. Wynetta glanced in his direction. She smiled. The smile was not a loving smile – the loving smile was given to her handsome male companion. He was taller and more muscular than Walter. Walter dared not challenge him. The man glanced at Walter – a daring, challenging glance; the once over. The man leaned down and kissed Wynetta fully on the lips just as the music changed and slowed to a belly-rubbing pace. Their bodies disappeared into one another. Their bodies pressed and ground into one another so closely that you could hardly tell there were two individuals.

Beads of sweat rolled down both sides of Walter’s head. His hands became fidgety. Familia smiled at him as she rubbed the moisture from his face and brow.

“Look honey,” she said. “I know she’s your wife. Go ahead and do what you need to do. I know you’re a man, my man, and you must not worry about me or what I’ll say and do – I’m your woman for as long as it lasts – so go on and straighten things out. I’ll be here when you get back or I’ll be at the flat.”

Walter remembered Lucien’s promise – that he could do anything. He was untouchable – unbeatable. Walter kissed Familia and left the booth.

“Just what in the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He snarled at Wynetta.
She lifted her head from the chest of her date and turned to confront her husband.
“I’m doing what I damn well please – just like you!” she barked back at Walter.
“And what’s that supposed to mean? Does it mean that you’re supposed to go out whoring all over this town?” Walter’s anger took him to a higher height of courage as well. He was mad. His anger was to the extent of taking on anyone and anything. Wynetta snapped back at him again.
“Yeah…If I have to and if I want to, I’ll whore all over this town and the next one too – just like you!”

Walter reached for Wynetta’s left arm. It was one of the arms wrapped around the neck of her date. Walter missed as she drew it away from him. With that move, Walter blew a gasket. He drew back his right hand. It was poised alongside the right side of his face. He drew it back intending to slap the shit out of Wynetta’s face. The backhand flew forward in the direction of Wynetta. The flight was interrupted with by the left hand of her date. The man’s left hand had a powerful vice-like grip, the grip of super-human power. Walter’s arm felt like it was going to pop – like it was being crushed as it was being twisted behind his back. Wynetta’s date squeezed Walter to a point where he was lifted up off the ground, off his feet with his toes barely touching the floor.

The man’s right hand however, did something that shocked the hell out of Walter and every one of the witnesses too. It swung hard and fast and back-slapped Walter on the left side of his face and head. Walter felt a burning, stinging, blasting, and explosion along-side the entire the face and head. The explosive blow sent Walter to the floor. But, before he hit the floor, he was in flight, backwards. Walter was knocked unconscious upon its delivery. Walter saw stars and flashes of white and colored lights. He was aware of all the pain, the flight backwards, and the eyes of everyone upon him. He was aware of the impact of his body hitting the floor with a thunderous thud. He remembered getting up a few minutes after being helped and aroused by Bubby.

Walter was very afraid. He was embarrassed in front of all the people in the bar. Walter, while still dazed and seeing stars and flashing lights, looked into the eyes of the man who’d knocked him down, they grinned. He looked into the eyes of Wynetta. The smiled and laughed with glee. Walter looked around the room and into the eyes of all who witnessed the event. His gaze stopped and looked into the eyes of Bubby – his eyes appeared different, they appeared to flash – Walter thought he’d seen the eyes of something that looked like a lizard. The sclera was yellowish while the iris and pupil looked at him vertically and then horizontally. He blinked and they appeared normal again.

Walter’s gaze came to another stop. Eyes of red and black stared back at him. They were the eyes of Lucien. Walter felt totally humiliated in front of his friends and wife. He looked to Familia. She was not smiling. She glared at him and then at Lucifer - Walter looked at Lucien too. Then he felt something in his suit pocket, the inside pocket. It felt heavy. It was cool to the touch. Walter pulled the Gun from his pocket and looked at it. It felt good in his hand. He found new courage, and rage came with it. Walter smiled to himself and then at the big man.

He pointed the shiny chrome-steel Colt 45 caliber semi-automatic pearl handled weapon at Wynetta’s date. The guy looked at Walter and smiled. He took a step towards Walter and said, “You don’t have the guts to shot me – go on pull that damn trigger, I dare you!”

Walter was no killer. But, this man has done the un-do-able to him. He did it in front of these particular witnesses. Walter looked at Wynetta and Familia. Familia was smiling at Wynetta while Wynetta was staring in horror at Walter with that gun in his hand. Walter thought he was seeing things again. Wynetta’s date seemed to have the same flashing eye dimensions as his friend, Bubby. It was only for an instant, he thought. Walter cocked the hammer on the gun. He was definitely going to shoot Wynetta’s date.

The big man stopped moving toward Walter. He looked at Walter’s friends, Lucifer and Beelzebub. Lucifer shouted at Walter.
“Shoot him – shoot that motherfucker – shoot him now!”
They smiled at Wynetta’s date. He backed off.
“Okay man, you got this…I only fucked her once! I was going to do it again, but you got in the way. Now you’ve made her angry because she won’t be getting any of my goodies – at least as long…at least for right now – she’ll get some soon – and there won’t be a damn thing that you can do about it.” He laughed, turned, and walked towards the door. The big man fondled the doorknob. He grinned at Wynetta who in turn smiled back at him lovingly, “I’ll see ya later baby, you can come to my place when you’re ready…you know how to get there. You can bring the kids too – call me whenever you need and want me.” The big man laughed and walked out into the night.

Walter was seething. He pointed the gun at Wynetta.
“Okay, let’s get your ass home.” He nodded towards the door while glaring with red hot anger at Wynetta. She replied, “I’m not going anywhere with you!” Walter closed his eyes and opened them to see if she’d began to move. He gave her the look that had become all too familiar. It was the “ass kicking look” that she’d seen when Walter came home in one of his sour moods. Wynetta complied and walked out of the door with Walter at her back. He still had the gun in his hands. Wynetta didn’t know what he was going to do…she knew that it was “ass kicking time.” Walter paused momentarily and peered over his shoulder at Familia. She waved, winked, smiled, and threw him a kiss.

Upon arrival at the front door of their house, the married couple found themselves in a precarious state of affairs. Walter wondered, “What am I going to do with her now?” He clicked the key-alarm, enabling the locks to lock the doors of his new ‘Lincoln Continental.’ He told Wynetta to unlock the and open the front door and quietly get inside. He knew the kids and baby-sitter would be fast asleep. This was a routine expectation from past experiences when they’d gone out in happier times. He didn’t wish to be seen by anyone, the kids, the sitter, or the neighbors. The gang at the club wouldn’t say anything. Snitching is frowned upon in those circles.
“Oh no,” he thought, “Lucien and Bubby would never allow such a thing – heads would roll if someone so much as talked in their sleep about the happenings inside the lounge.” Walter began to smile to himself as he remembered his friends. “Lucien and Bubby won’t allow that shit to happen – no one will say they saw me leave with my wife…no one’ll say a damn thing, I’m gonna kill this bitch and noting can change that. The cops will blame the fuckin boyfriend – that’s what they’ll do. The whole gang will back up my story. This bitch is gonna finally be gone – the bitch leaves me in peace tonight!”

Wynetta made no noise, she didn’t make a fuss. She even took off her shoes and quietly led the way upstairs. The carpeted stairwell aided in her silent ascent and discretion. Walter followed suite. The gun in hand was in his pants pocket. When they reached the bedroom, Wynetta finished undressing. Walter put the gun down on the dresser. He pulled an eight-inch knife his back pants pocket. It was a blue steel switch-blade like the ones you see in the movies. It clicked as it swung open. Wynetta didn’t flinch. She pretended not to notice the newest weapon in Walter’s possession. She continued to undress. She looked at Walter looking at her. She was a very beautiful woman – she knew it. She gave Walter one of those looks she’d given him way back when…she looked at him with seduction as she did back in the day. He loved it. He looked at her beautiful full figured and narrow-wasted physique. It was magnificent and desirable. Walter passions began to stir. But his jealousy and anger outweighed his temptation. Then he thought, “Why not satisfy them both – the horniness and the killing plan.” Wynetta looked at him more intently. He began to sway…her way.

Walter thought aloud, “Well baby, why not…for ole’ time’s sake.” He started unzipping his trousers and undoing the belt above it. He approached Wynetta in a sexually menacing way. She was completely naked now. There was nothing for Walter to remove or fumble with. He mounted her from the rear. The throes of passion engulfed Walter. His attack was brutal and selfish. Wynetta pretended to enjoy the sexual encounter – the assault. Right after ejaculation, Walter pulled his knife and placed the blade across her throat…as he began to cut her beautiful soft, smooth, and tender throat. Blood began to flow. Then it gushed and dripped like a geyser, only it pumped from a gaping artery in copious amounts with violent intentions.

Walter still had his penis inside Wynetta after he’d cut her throat. He grinned the grin of a Cheshire-cat.
“Well baby, this is it…you dared to give my pussy away…to some fuckin faggot who thinks he can have you and my kids! Bitch you’d better think again! It ain’t gonna happen!” Walter’s eyes flashed red. With his penis dripping and hanging, he pulled up his underwear and pants. He fastened his zipper, snarled and grabbed her again…this time by the hair.

Her violation…she dared to make love with another…someone other than he – whom she has never known or loved.

“Wynetta didn’t even scream. He wondered why? She offered no resistance of any kind…no resistance at all. He wondered why not? He was holding her mouth when he slit her throat. She never made a noise. He wondered why?

Wynetta slowly eased out of Walter’s grip and dropped down on the bed. The blood stopped gushing. Walter looked at all the blood on the bed and floor. The spewed gore that was everywhere – all over everything…began to dry. Walter stood straight up. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The blood was draining back into Wynetta – back into her throat – back into the sliced artery. The artery sealed itself and closed up like there was never a wound to begin with. Wynetta opened her eyes and started to laugh. She laughed hard and loudly…at Walter.

Walter dropped the knife. It became too hot to hold. It burned red hot. He turned and reached for his chrome and steel gun on the dresser, it was gone. He frantically looked to see where it could have possibly gotten. Where could it have gone? He couldn’t find it. Then…he saw it. It was in the hand of the baby-sitter. She was pointing it at him.

The room was filled with demonic laughter – originating from the front and the back. Walter was mortified.
“This shit ain’t real… it can’t be happnin! Walter attempted to rationalize his situation. He tried to make some sense of it all…he couldn’t. He turned to face his victim. She wasn’t there. She wasn’t on the bed any longer. She was nowhere to be seen in the bedroom. Walter turned to face the baby-sitter.
“Yo…little lady, you can’t kill me…I’m the children’s father, I’m Wynetta’s husband – you can’t shoot me with my own gun – I’m protected! Put the gun down – it’s okay to hand it to me. I won’t hurt you – you pretty lil thing…I’ll take real good care to you – I’ll treat you real nice – all you have to do is give me that pistol. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, I’ll give you a good life – you name it. How much money would you like? I can give you your heart’s desire? What do you need? I’ll give you whatever you need, whatever you want, we could leave here together, and I’ll love you right – you’ll be my one and only lady. C’mon, what do you say baby, huh?”
Walter was desperate to do, say, and try anything – he meant none of the things he was saying. If the sitter gave him the weapon, he would kill her too…she had now become a witness, an un-trusting and un-willing witness…after all, he had the promise and protection of Lucien. Walter had the power over woman…all he had to do was woo them. All he had to do was wine and dine them…they would do anything and everything he wanted…or so he believed. They couldn’t – wouldn’t kill him…he couldn’t be killed.

“You’ll not have to worry about anything further, my dear sweet husband – my loving man!” The voice came from behind him. Wynetta was standing there in her pretty black dress. She was as gorgeous as she ever was. She looked exactly the same as she did earlier in the evening with one exception. She had an aura of power about her. She had major contempt in her voice – a controlling demanding and professional sound. She was now in control – she’d been in control all the while – all along. “Did you think I would allow you to kick my ass all over the place forever…as usual, sweetie-pie? Did you not think that I would do something about it – something to you? You could have woken up dead…many-a- night. Well son, I’m here to tell ya – I’ve made a little deal of my own – in fact, I’ve made several deals. You can kiss your little dream and ass goodbye as well as your perceived notion of protection. I was the bait. The delivery of your ass and soul was the price for my revenge on your evil misgivings my dear sweet and loving man. Yes, you…who wanted to fuck everything and anything walking – you who thought I didn’t know any better. I knew when you where out whorein around. I knew when you didn’t want to be with me any more. I knew whom you’d been to bed with and how you were getting all that money. Yeah, the goddamned money that you wouldn’t bring home to your wife and kids – the kids you brought into this world…the kids Walter…that you made with me! Your protection is gone…it was never yore’s to begin with - it was mine. Walter stood there, dumbfounded and flabbergasted. He didn’t know what to say or think. Had his friends betrayed him too? Was Familia in on this too?

“By-the-by, the sitter can’t talk – she’s a cat. She doesn’t have a vagina either. And if you’d tried to stick your dick in her mouth, you might not have had it any longer…if she’d bitten down with those sharp and pointed teeth of hers. Oh…you wondered about my beautiful date? Well… he is one of the best-damned conjurers on the planet. Beelzebub and Lucifer, oh, excuse me…Bubby and Lucien and your whore, Familia of the ‘Fates,’ are having one of the best laughs they’d had in a long, long time. Lucifer is waiting for me to bring him another head for his collection – your head – I promised him I would.”

Walter turned to look at the sitter. Sure enough, it was a cat – a big black cat, standing on the human legs of a female shaped body, holding his shiny semi-automatic ‘Colt 45.’ The thing had a great big grin on its face, showing all the cat-teeth and fangs. It reminded him of “Alice in Wonderland.

Walter turned back to plead his case to Wynetta – she wasn’t having any. She laughed at him – in his face.
“Goodbye, my dear sweet loving man…my evil-assed husband.

“A demon appeared unto Walter. It stood next to his wife. It smiled a demonic smile – Walter found his knife in his right hand. He could not release it. His fist was clutching it tightly. He blinked and found himself standing at the top of the stairs inside he and Wynetta’s house.

The demon, which appeared to be a lot taller and bigger than it did when they were in the bedroom, tempted him so that…Walter cut his own throat with his own knife. Although the wound wasn’t serious enough to cause him instant death, yet the demon, in that art of desperation, seized violently on Walter’s soul and carried it to hell, to the great astonishment of all.

“I, Thaddeus Bartholomew Wiseman, saw the man dead and still warm, lying on the carpet at the bottom of the stairwell. I was assigned to take the forensic photos as called for in my role as part-time police photographer. I will never forget this story for as long as I live. A thought came over me…some remembrance of a quote…of biblical proportions. I remember them all to well…all through bible study, my Grandmother’s teachings, and church.”

“And as he led the life of a beast, so he lay on the provender of beasts. For so divine justice dispose, which rewards every man according to his working; and God willed that he, who had lived a follower of Satan, should also end his life at the hands of Satan…”

The police were not able to locate Wynetta or her children. It’s like they just vanished – into thin air. There was no evidence, no pictures, clothing, shoes, and toys, nothing – like they never ever existed. They couldn’t find the baby-sitter either. The bar-club-tavern-lounge was never located – it’ supposed location was an empty lot.

“Would it seem funny? If the barmaid ended damn near the same way as Wynetta’s did? She disappeared too. The Chief Justice was found dead in his home near the courtyard.
He was found hanging. He had blood-covered chains wrapped about him. A stake was shoved up his ass. Yeah, he was impaled by the stake that sat in top of a pile of burned wood. There was no fire – his body was semi-burned and thousands of flies covered it – eating the remaining flesh of his open wounds. The empty eye-sockets just starred with his mouth agape.”

If you listen closely – if you do evil and purposely hurt others – you can hear it…the demonical laughter of Lucien, Bubby, and the boys in the back room...

Til next Time…

Acknowledgment(s):
Dictionary.com
Wikipedia.com,
The Encyclopedia of Witchcraft and Demonology, by Russell Hope Robbins, Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature – 1959 of Crown Publications
The Holy Bible, The Holy Qur’an, and The Torah
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http://www.linkedin.com/pub/gregory-boulware/10/435/44b
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
http://demonsthroathallow.blogspot.com/2011/12/demons-throat.html

>

Posting List Links and Locations to Articles by Boulware
~ 'The E-Store for Books by Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.’ ~
http://boulwareenterprises.com/-_A_Portentous_Epoch_~.html
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/the-e-store-for-b...

/*

~BoulwareEnterprises~
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com

“Article Posting Sites”
http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910946197037982583
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.wordpress.com
http://www.linkedin.com/pub/gregory-boulware/10/435/44b
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7237172.Gregory_V_Boulware
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware
http://www.wattpad.com/user/GregLitideas
http://literarygreg10xsmenow.tumblr.com/
http://about.me/gregory_boulware
http://www.pinterest.com/writerauthor6bk/pins/
http://www.bookcrossing.com/mybookshelf/GVBoulware/all
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009002895659
http://ezinearticles.com/?expert_bio=Gregory_V._Boulware

~The Connect Platform~
http://hbcu.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://hbcuconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackwomenconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackinamerica.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

"Amazon"
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_e...

And

"Twitter"
https://twitter.com/#!/AuthorBoulwareG

>

"The Spirit of the Soul and the Death of Morals: From Whence Comest Thou?" http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18377562-the-spirit-of-the-soul-...

“ONE PEOPLE, ONE PLANET, and THE CHILDREN OF ONE GOD!”

“The Un-Obscure”
http://theunobscure.blogspot.com/

"FAIRMOUNT"
http://www.boulwareenterprises.com/FAIRMOUNT.html
http://aneastfallssonontheschuylkill.blogspot.com/2014/07/on-schuyl...

'The Triplets and One'
http://theeyeofcain.blogspot.com/
http://thehebrew-israelitesandjapan.blogspot.com/
http://theessenceofinvasionandannihila.blogspot.com/
http://yahvehthefatherthelosttribesoftwelve.blogspot.com

‘BookCrossing’
http://www.bookcrossing.com/mybookshelf/GVBoulware/all
"The Spirit of The Soul and The Death of Morals": Whence comest thou? Paperback – Large Print, January 12, 2012
By
Mr. Gregory Vernon Boulware (Author)
http://www.amazon.com/The-Spirit-Soul-Death-Morals/dp/1468190997/re...

Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
“HALLOW’
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_e...
http://blackwomenconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?blog_id=290777&ci...
http://hbcu.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?blog_id=290777&cid=10
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/demon-s-throat
http://blackinamerica.com/content/290531/how-black-women-should-tre...

*/

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