Dominating My Older Sis 1 Lil Sis Pays the Price
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You've Got To Pay The Price free porn video
The demon appeared in the middle of the pentagram, coughing.
“It worked! The spell worked! I summoned a demon!” I said. I looked at the short guy in the middle of the pentagram. It looked like a small version of a middle-aged man, a little bit like my astrology teacher. His skin was regular skin color, not red, and he was dressed in ordinary robes.
“You are a demon, aren’t you?” I asked.
He coughed again. “And what were you expecting to pop up in the middle of a pentagram? An elephant? Yes, of course, I’m a demon! What do you want?”
“I wanted a lass,” I said. “I’ve never been for a tumble, but I hear it feels good.”
“Oho! That would put you in the same position as nine-tenths of the males on this miserable planet. Damn straight it feels good.”
“So can you do it?”
“Depends on what you want. I can’t make anyone else fall in love with you. But if you could pay the price, I think I could arrange for a woman to bump bellies with you,” he said.
“So you’d magically create a woman, and she’d disappear after we were done?”
“Er—yes, in a manner of speaking.”
“What would the price be?”
“That depends on precisely what you want. You said you wanted to make the beast with two backs, correct?”
“Yes.”
“That is, you want to stick your beef bugle into a woman’s fleshpot?”
“Yes.”
“And if you were a woman, would you let some lad stick his rump-splitter up your flapdoodle?”
“Well, if I were a woman, I wouldn’t need your help,” I retorted. “That’s what pretty much all lads want to do, so if I wanted that I could find a lad easily.”
“Answer my question. Yes or no?”
“Well, yes, I guess. I want to make the beast with two backs, and I guess I would even if I were a lass and not a lad.”
He cackled. “Perfect! And what else would you want? Maybe you’d like to stick that cat’s meat of yours up her back alley, no?”
“I hadn’t thought of that! Could I do that too?”
“If you were a lass, would you let a lad stick his gravy maker up your back alley?”
I shuddered. “No.”
“Then you can’t have a lass do that. Any other special requests?”
“I’d like to piss my tallow into her,” I said.
“Would you let a lad piss his gravy into you if you were a lass?”
“I would if that wouldn’t put a roast in my oven.”
“Then that’s not a problem,” he said. “And what do you want this lass of yours to look like? Compare her to you on this mirror.” He conjured up a mirror, floating over the pentacle. I saw myself: a lad of eighteen, only three years into wizard school, still tall and gangly, with a long face with a few pimples on it, and messy brown hair.
“First, no pimples,” I said. The pimples disappeared.
“Bigger breasts and hips.” The breasts and hips of me in the mirror expanded. “Bigger. Bigger. All right, stop.” Now I had this odd look of being a lad with apples in all his pockets. “Narrower shoulders. Um, longer hair. Longer. Longer. That’s good.” The figure’s hair was reached down its back. It still looked mostly like me, but I wasn’t sure how to change that. “All right, that’s fine.”
“So you want to make the beast with two backs with this?” he said. “And you’ll pay the price?”
“I do, and I will,” I said.
“All right. Knock yourself out.” He vanished, and outside of the pentacle, the figure I’d indicated appeared lying naked on my pallet. She looked exactly like me, only with bigger hips and breasts, and with longer hair, and no pimples. She didn’t strike me as particularly lovely, but I wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity to make the beast with two backs. And she had a sort of dopey expression, like I have after I squirt my juice.
“Are you ready?” she said.
“Yes,” I said. I went to my pallet and took off my robes, and by the time I was done, my pizzle was as stiff as a ramrod.
I looked at the folds in between her legs. Beneath the mass of black, curly hair, there were two folds of flesh. I traced my fingers through them, and found the entrance at the base, almost at her back door.
I slowly eased my pizzle in. She panted. The sensation was incredible. I rub off almost every day, but the sensation of her soft, moist, warmth around my pizzle was nothing like my hand. I panted, and so did she.
I lowered myself all the way in and lay down on top of her. I couldn’t believe that I was finally rutting! Her face looked a lot like mine, but I kissed her mouth anyway. There was no taste.
Now that I was lying on top of her, with my pizzle fully in her pokehole, I rutted. I rocked my hips back and forth, grinding my pizzle into her pokehole, savoring that wonderful warm sensation. I felt her soft legs under mine, her soft chest under mine, and I gripped her soft back.
The sensation in my loins got even better. I felt my juices gathering in my loins. I let go. My loins pulsed, and I pissed thick paste, spurt after spurt. Each pulse felt as strong as dragonfire.
When all my paste had been pumped out, I lay on her for a few moments, breathing hard. Then, I pulled out and rolled beside her on the pallet. “That was amazing. Thank you.”
As soon as I had said that, the lass vanished. The demon reappeared in the pentacle. “All right, you had your fun. Now you’ve got to pay the price,” he said, grinning.
“Gladly,” I said. “For pleasure like that, I’d do a lot.”
“And so you shall,” he said. On my chest, my breasts grew, and the sparse hair vanished. My hips swelled, and I felt the hair on my head getting longer and heavier. My pizzle got almost completely sucked inside my loins, though the acorn at the tip and the sack below stayed mostly outside. “For everything you did, you’ve got to pay the price,” he said and vanished again.
Next to the pentacle, a lad appeared. It was me, exactly as I’d looked just a few minutes ago. I suddenly understood what the demon meant, though I didn’t think I would mind. After all, I pull my pizzle almost every day. This really amounted to the same thing.
“Are you ready?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he (I) said, and he crossed over to the pallet and started to remove his robes. My naked body looked almost like it always does in the mirror, although it was odd seeing my gravy giver and sack from this angle.
He slowly traced over the folds that my sack had become with his fingers. Then he placed the tip of his pizzle in, and slowly brought his body forward, pulling his pizzle into my new hole. His pizzle felt wonderful inside me, thick, strong, and hard.
He started rutting me, rocking his hips and grinding his thick, hard pizzle into me. The sensation of his meat in my pokehole felt even better than rubbing off does. Finally, his loins tensed, and he gave his gravy deep inside me. I felt his beef pulsing.
He lay on top of me for a moment, then pulled his beef out of my pokehole and rolled off me. I felt a bit disappointed that he hadn’t rutted me long enough for me to go off again.
He disappeared. The demon reappeared in the pentacle, then stepped out of it, towards the pallet where I was lying.
“I thought you couldn’t escape the pentacle!” I said.
“Oho, my lad, you still haven’t paid the price,” he said, leering.
“Wasn’t the price simply that I rut myself? That you couldn’t make a lass out of whole cloth, so you turned me into a lass and let me have my way with myself?” I said.
“No, no. That would be far too simple. If that were all, every lad who can hold his wand would summon me every day! Do you have any idea how much energy it takes to create a closed temporal loop, as well as a total body change? You still haven’t paid up!”
“What do I have to do? What do I owe you?” I said. I felt stupid that I hadn’t asked him precisely what the terms were.
“You agreed to let yourself rut you as a lass. Now you have to let me rut you as well.”
I thought quickly. Demons were required to state their terms when they stepped out of a pentacle, and I had this one opportunity to take it before he ran amok in the world. Definitely better to pay my fair due than to let him loose. Besides, there was still fire in my loins.
“What will you look like?” I said.
“I can look like whatever you like,” he said. His body changed, going from middle-aged man to elderly wizard with a long beard, to a short and fat gnome, a dog, a llama, a ball of fire, a ten-year-old street urchin, the tall lad down the hall, and myself, before turning back to his original form.
“Turn into me,” I said.
“As you wish,” he said. His middle-aged form turned into my gangly teenaged one, complete with pimples and messy hair, although somehow, even with my body, he still didn’t look quite like me, and he smelled a little like ashes. I wondered for a moment what I had done by telling him to take my shape. Perhaps all of the shapes he had shown me were other people he had contracted with.
He stripped his robes off in an instant, and his pizzle was already stiff and big. Unlike myself, he knew exactly where the entrance to my pokehole was, and he efficiently ushered his pizzle in. I felt that wonderful fullness in my pokehole again. He lay on top of me and rutted.
When it had been me, of course, I had been more concerned with my own beef than with the lass’s beef, but the demon seemed even more dispassionate than I had. It seemed as if he didn’t care at all what sorts of sensations he was causing me, as long as he got to give up his gravy.
But I still had fire in my loins, and I had wanted to rut more. I could tell that he didn’t care if he were causing me pleasure or pain, but every thrust of his meat inside me felt better than pulling my pizzle ever did.
The fire gathered in my loins. Finally, I went off again, my loins clenching and clenching, waves of pleasure washing through my chest.
The demon looked surprised as my pokehole clenched around his meat. His pizzle pulsed in my pokehole as he rutted. His slime felt cold inside me.
His meat pulsed more and more slowly. When he finished unloading, he vanished with a puff of smoke and a whiff of eggy brimstone.
I looked down. I lay naked and sweaty on my pallet, but my breasts were gone, my chest had a little hair again, my hips were narrow again, and my sausage and plums were back. A smear of paste oozed out of the tip of my pizzle. I felt tired, but still awash in the afterglow.
Sure, I’d let a demon do a bit of business with me. If you want to stuff a lass, you’ve got to pay the price. But the price of stuffing a lass had only been to get stuffed with my own live sausage, and then with the demon’s. I would happily pay that price again any day.
Lauryn
- 18.06.2022
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