The Case Of The Devil's AdvocateChapter 3: Fun And Games And Demonic Possession free porn video

CASE FILES - PERSONAL NOTES - PATIENTS 333 & 334 - DAY ONE (CONTINUED)

TRANSCRIPTION FROM AUDIO - NOVEMBER 12th - 11:55 PM

HERRINGWICK

Thank you, Terry. Please lean back and take a break. Remain calm and detached, and let’s hear what Lily has to say.

NADIA

I guess there’s no real evidence of orchestrated devil worship so far ... no animal sacrifices or weird, chanting figures in hooded cloaks.

HERRINGWICK

We can find out for sure from other sources, but I imagine this whole thing is nothing more than a high-priced club that offers an outlet for sexual excesses.

LORETTA

Do you have any idea what was in the pink and blue drinks?

HERRINGWICK

I’m pretty sure, yes. Based on Terry’s description of symptoms and side effects, I would guess that the pink shot glasses contained some form of methylene-dioxymethamphetamine. You’ve heard of meth, of course. MDMA mixes that, or some other form of amphetamine, with ketamine, or another psychoactive drug. The street name is Ecstasy, but there are dozens of variations, including some that are lethal in large dosages. It’s also highly addictive, both physically and emotionally. That would account for the peculiar anxiousness among the female members of the group. It might also guarantee recidivism; that is, it would bring paying customers back for more.

I’m guessing that the blue drinks contained two active ingredients. You’ve probably guessed one of them already: Viagra, which has a very bitter taste, and would need to be covered up with something sweet. I’ve read that one possible side effect of an overdose is fuzzy or color-tinted vision. The other part of the cocktail was probably a synthetic cannabinoid. They’ve become extremely popular, though they will probably lose a lot of market share as marijuana becomes legal in more states. The street name for that is K2 or Spice.

This would lead to a pretty potent combination for a “party.” Under the influence of both types of cocktails, inhibitions would be significantly lowered. The men would be drunk but virile; the women would all have heightened perceptions and reactions to physical stimuli. Let’s continue and see if that’s what really happened.

Lily, can you hear me okay?”

LILY

Yes, doctor.

HERRINGWICK

Was Terry’s description accurate, in your opinion? And tell us what happened when you got up on the stage.

LILY

Yes, doctor. Terry described what was happening in the theater quite accurately. But, somehow, I thought there were more people present. More men, anyway. I felt as if I was being passed from one to another, even though I don’t think I moved from that one spot against the wall. And ... they all touched me. I can’t begin to describe how many touches ... or what those touches did to me. They touched me on the arm, on the side, on the hip, on the shoulder; talking all the while, as if these intimacies meant nothing at all. And that’s the way I tried to treat them ... as if they were nothing at all ... as if they were unimportant. But, oh ... they WERE important! They really were!

A new touch would make me look up at him ... quite often at a new “him.” But, I could never maintain eye contact, and I would look back down and blush as the man, whoever it happened to be at the moment, rambled on and on about seemingly insignificant things: the weather, the architecture of the building, the looks and actions of the other women in the room. The longer it went on, the more the caresses affected me. I was already wet between my legs ... I had been, ever since that woman kissed me, back in the motel. And now, a foggy realization was beginning to congeal into a hard reality. I was going to do it. I was going to make love to another man. I kept telling myself, over and over, that I was only doing it for Terry ... that it was what he wanted ... that I’d do anything for him. But WAS that the only reason? Suddenly, there was an arm around my waist, and I found that I was allowing my body to be supported by his ... whoever “he” was. Would THIS be the man? Was it about to happen now? Oh, God, I was dripping!

But then, Terry was there! Did he know what I had been feeling? What I had been thinking? But, he was just good, kind, reliable Terry; the love of my life, Terry; as decent and good and thoughtful as ever. He asked me if I wanted to leave. NO! Did I scream that at him? Did he guess how important this was to me? Did he KNOW? But then he started talking about the lights or something, and he led me up the steps to the others.

One of the women suddenly seized my hand and pulled me aside. All of the females seemed especially excited by what was about to happen, and two of them started asking me questions at the same time. It took me awhile to figure out what they wanted to know, and it made me blush furiously. Yes, I explained. Yes, I WAS wearing a bra and panties.

The woman who had arranged for us to come ... the one who had kissed me ... was grasping me by the shoulders and looking me up and down. “WHY for goodness sake? You certainly don’t NEED to wear a bra! You have great breasts!” I couldn’t begin to answer a question like that, so I just blushed some more. “Take off that jacket!” she barked. “Quick!”

I never even thought about it ... I just did it. It wasn’t a jacket, anyway. It was a vest that was designed to complement the dress, which I had purchased at Wal-Mart for $24.99. I was not so backwards that I didn’t recognize the designer dress that SHE was wearing, though. ALL of them were dressed to the nines in high-end clothes. “Why?” I asked, as I handed the vest to her.

“We all have to be dressed in exactly four items of clothing,” she explained, grinning hugely. “It was either that, or your shoes. And those heels make your legs look great! The men are all going to be drooling at the thought of getting you.”

“Getting me?” I looked around in confusion. None of the other girls were taking off anything ... so they must have planned for this already. Several men were peeling off things, however, including Terry, who was having a little trouble with his shoe laces.

It was the first time I had really noticed the setup. A number of chairs were arranged in a circle, and the men were all seated. The backs of the chairs, however, were together, the men sitting so that they all faced away from each other. In front of each there was a number, made from some sort of tape adhered to the floor, one to six. Shoes and jackets and sundry other items were being stuffed underneath them, or they were put on the floor behind them all, in the center of the circle of chairs, out of the way.

“I hope you are all having a wonderful time tonight,” The Prophet’s voice filled our world. He was not a part of the circle of chairs, but was standing off to one side beside a small table, on top of which sat some sort of small sound system with attached speakers. I looked around and noticed that the slender blonde, who I assumed was his spouse ... or at least an assistant ... was now a part of the group of females. By some prearranged design, unnoticed on my part, we were all arranging ourselves in a ring around the assembled sitting men.

“For the benefit of our guests,” the man continued, “let me explain that this is the portion of our evening where we get to know one another better by playing a little game. Tonight’s is a true favorite that is designed to help break the ice and get you better acquainted with our fellow disciples. Let me briefly explain the rules. It’s exactly like musical chairs, except that we don’t remove a chair at the end of each round. As you can tell, there’s the proper number of chairs for the players. The men remain seated, and the ladies must find a place to sit. Once seated, you get to know one another better with an introductory kiss. My assistant will demonstrate.”

At that, the willowy blonde hiked up her black gown to her hips, displaying a pale pink thong, and with a squealed “Wheee!” she leapt onto Terry’s lap, facing him, her legs spread, straddling my his thighs. And then, without skipping a beat, she pressed her lips greedily to his in a truly passionate kiss, her arms wound tightly around his neck, her generous chest mashed into his. Everyone standing around cheered and applauded as he first put his hands on her waist and tried to gently push her back; but he finally gave up and let her have her way. After a long minute, she shimmied her ass back away from him and stood. It must have been clearly evident to everyone that Terry had an erection.

Our host continued: “The biggest rule is that the last two ladies to find their seat will be penalized by having to choose and remove one item of their seated partner’s clothing, and having him remove one of hers. I will be the lone judge, and will choose which two pairs will be punished this way, and my word is final. Does everybody understand?”

“Now, wait just a confounded minute, here!” Terry shouted, still slightly out-of-breath from the kiss.

Before I knew what was happening, the woman who had invited (and kissed) me earlier had pulled me by the arm back a few spaces until we were standing in front of Terry’s chair. And she spun me around and kissed me again, much more deeply than the previous smooch. It left me dizzy and gasping, and I opened my eyes to gaze up into hers, realizing only then that my arms were around her waist. Her face was VERY close, her lips brushing mine, and she said: “Tell him you want to stay.” Then, her lips were nestled into my left ear, whispering: “For HIS sake! In order to please HIM! You will do this for him, won’t you? How far will you go to satisfy your husband?”

She backed away, which left me swaying slightly from side to side and practically gasping with passion. “Please, Terry?” I asked softly. “Can we stay? Can we play the game for just a little while?”

Terry and I have only known each other for eight months, more than half of which we were dating. In all that time, I have only seen him drunk three times. And this was one of those times. His anger melted almost instantly, but it was replaced by pure confusion. He didn’t know WHAT to think ... or what to do or what to allow himself to feel. I wanted to go to him, to cuddle him and tell him that whatever he wanted to do, I would always follow him and be with him. But ... this WAS what he wanted, deep down. Wasn’t it? To experience once again the intense sexual feelings that his former girlfriend had provided, and that I never had? I’d do ANYTHING to make him feel that! At least, that’s what I told myself while I was standing there feeling dizzy and wonderful from that kiss.

It happened one-two-three. Terry nodded, everybody cheered, and the music started. I was startled by it, some instrumental rock tune, and two of the other girls were pushing and pulling me, forcing me to keep in step with the line of females, walking provocatively around the seated men. I became cognizant of a few strange things. All of the women were, like me, wearing high heels, but some had on other items of clothing that were odd. One had a shawl draped over her shoulders; another wore a hat with a red feather. A lady with a purple boa provided the answered to this dilemma in my slow mind. Her chest was bouncing and shaking like two massive helpings of gelatin on a wobbly table. Ah, four items of clothing, and THEY had neglected to wear undergarments. That had been brought to my attention by another oddity. Terry was watching me carefully as I passed around the ring of chairs the first time, but the second and third revolutions, his eyes were glued on Jello-Girl.

My reverie was brought to a screeching halt by frantic movement all around me, and it took a LONG second to realize that the music had stopped; and the other girls were squirming on top of (and all over) the seated men ... all except me and the grinning-but-lonely-looking man seated in front of me. “Numbers two and six,” our host announced loudly. A couple of the seated women stopped kissing their partners to turn and stare at me in unrestrained curiosity.

“Now, what should I pick for you to remove,” the sitting man said, scratching his chin and looking me up and down the way he would examine a new car. I looked across the circle and observed a woman standing with her back to the man in front of her while he unzipped her dress.

My eyes widened in shock and I reached out to put my palms on the man’s knees. “Choose my shoes! Please! “ I whined. “I’m new! I didn’t understand! Pleeeease!”

He laughed and relented, though the woman next to us said: “Christ, Stephen; you’re such an easy touch for a pretty girl!” Before he could change his mind, I pulled off my heels and threw them behind his chair, then I fell to my knees and quickly removed his socks. Finally, blushing furiously, I hitched up the hem of my dress; and, throwing a leg over his knees, I settled myself onto his lap. I gave him a peck on the lips.

“If that’s the way you show your gratitude,” he whispered harshly, “perhaps there’s still time to change my mind.” I blinked at him for a moment, then leaned forward again and kissed him, lingering this time for several long seconds. That, as it turned out, was a few seconds TOO long; for he threw his arms around my waist and crushed me to himself.

“Mmmff!” I made the noise against him, but when I parted my lips to lend voice to my surprise, he smoothly slid his tongue into my mouth and began swirling it around my own.

All at once, I was free from his embrace, and I quickly slid back away from him, gasping. How long had the music been playing? Stumbling, I found myself being pushed in the direction the other gals were already walking. My bare feet made me feel incredibly self conscious, but all eyes seemed to be on my counterpart across the circle, who was clad now only in bra, panties and high heels. “Pay attention!” I chastised myself. I resolved not to be caught off guard again. And this time, when the music halted suddenly, I was prepared. I pulled my hemline high and leapt atop the man in the chair beside me, realizing too late that he lacked his trousers.

I stifled the scream that welled up in my throat, feeling the tops of his hairy thighs against my legs and panty-clad butt. He threw his arms around my waist and pulled me against his chest. Leaning to the side, and looking down, I saw that he was still wearing socks (and, thank goodness, his underwear). “Nice move,” he husked, reaching up and putting a palm on the back of my head. “You’re a quick one.” And he drew my face to his.

I was aware of other things, other sounds. People were laughing and clapping as two other unfortunate couples were forced to choose items of clothing for removal. I was also aware of my new partner’s strength, his power, his unquestionable masculinity and dominance ... and his lips. The muscles in his arms flexed, relaxed, then tightened again as he pulled me even closer. I knew this, because both of my hands were on his upper arms. I pushed against him once, then briefly once again, before surrendering completely to his insistence.

Suddenly, it all seemed to be ending. His hands were on my waist, and he was pushing against me. When had my arms gone around his neck? Shocked, I jerked away from him, my itchy pussy scraping harshly against his throbbing hardness as I did so. Oh. The music was playing again. I looked at him, blinking. It was the first time I had really taken a look at his face. I would try to remember it, I decided.

And I was walking again. I saw Terry, bleary-eyed and confused, and without his pants, an angular bulge in the crotch of his Jockey shorts. Too late! The music had stopped while my mind was busy elsewhere. I tried to jump on the nearest lap before hiking up my dress, and I tripped and tumbled back, my newest male partner reaching out and grabbing both of my hands before I could fall. A cheer went up at my obvious distress.

The man was standing with me in an attempt to steady my still-swaying body, and he looked tenderly down at me. He seemed nice. Sweet. “I’ll let you decide,” he told me. “Your dress or your panties?”

“What?!” I gasped. I stood, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, completely unable to make such an impossible decision.

He laughed, letting me know with his lingering smile that he would gently relieve me of that terrible choice. “Hands up,” he ordered softly. Without hesitation, I did so, and three seconds later, my dress was gone. He folded it carefully and placed it behind his chair. He was now standing with his arms stretched out to either side, and after finally breaking the code, I lowered my hands (which were now covering my chest) and chose his shirt, quickly unbuttoning it and pushing it off of his broad shoulders. Resuming his seat, he held out his hands to me, and I straddled him, allowing myself to be pulled tightly against him. I shifted uncomfortably against his hard-on.

“Thank you for being so understanding,” I said softly.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he answered simply.

“Yes. Please.”

How much time had passed? Why couldn’t I seem to hear the music when it started playing? Again, I found that he was pushing me away. I whined softly. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“If you don’t stop at my chair again, I’ll find you afterwards.”

“But ... I’m married.”

“Go. People are waiting.”

I was ready next time. I went after that guy like a trout after a minnow (or whatever trout go after). I snuggled up against him, and I tried to ignore the huge, hard penis trying to find its target through my thin panties. This guy, however, tried to get as much of my bra-covered breasts into his hands as he could. I broke my kiss and told him no. No way. Hands off. Realizing that his only two options were trying to fight me or giving in to my kisses, he chose wisely. I heard the music this time, though, and I climbed off gratefully.

There was no way I was going to be one of the losing contestants the next time! No way! And, I WASN’T! Mr. Prophet, however, steadfastly refused to let me argue, and I was forced to stand still, my arms slightly away from my body, as the next man removed my bra. I realized that I was the only one left wearing anything up top, anyway; and I couldn’t help but feel THAT was the reason the Prophet guy had chosen me! The man who removed it for me, though, was the one I liked so much ... the guy with the hard muscles and soft lips. Unfortunately, however, he was down to his last item of clothing, his boxer shorts, which I peeled off of him with shaking hands and bated breath. Oh, gosh, he was big ... not just longer than Terry, but much bigger around; and when he sat down again, it pointed straight up toward the ceiling, commanding all of my interest.

I settled myself onto him and let him reach around me, filling his hands with my ass cheeks, and he pulled my body into his effortlessly. I tried, but failed to ignore that massive thing as the side of it ground against me, pointing straight up between my legs. And, as his lips claimed mine again, one of his huge hands came up and around to settle on my breast. I broke our kiss, and I could barely get the words out between my gasping breaths. “I ... I ... You shouldn’t touch me there.”

“Please. I can’t help it. You’re so beautiful. Your breasts are magnificent.” And he kissed me once more. I couldn’t fight him. That’s what I told myself, anyway; and I simply surrendered and let him kiss and touch wherever he wanted. Once more, I somehow missed the start of the music, and I staggered to my feet only after he had gently pushed me away. Again, he promised me that this would not be the last time he saw me that night.

It happened two turns later. I suppose everybody, including myself, knew it was coming. It was with the same man who had groped me before, but who I had rebuffed when he tried to touch my breasts. When the music stopped, his legs were spread too wide, and I couldn’t get seated properly. The Prophet called our number, of course. The guy was already naked, and so there was nothing left for me to remove from him. But, making a grand show of it, he slowly slid my panties down over my hips, and then he used a hand on my side to keep me balanced while I stepped out of them. Blushing to my core, I settled myself straddling his knees. He reached around me, the same way all the men seemed to do in order to pull me into him.

For a long time, I couldn’t figure out what had happened ... so many frantic thoughts were flooding my head. I believe I can tell you now, with the help of afterthought. I’m pretty sure that it went something like this: Using one meaty palm on the top of my butt, he began sliding me toward him, but at the same time, he reached between us with his other hand, and he bent his prick downward. I didn’t notice that because I was leaning forward to kiss him. It just seemed natural at that point to do so. First I sat down on the guy’s lap, the guy pulled me forward, and I kissed him. ABC. Just like that. But THIS time ... oh, this time, there was something big pushing into my pussy!

I was already kissing him, but I pulled back abruptly and hissed; “Wait!” Something shifted behind me. I know what it was now, but I couldn’t seem to process it then. Now that the tip was inside me, he had moved one hand to the side so that both palms were now filled with my buttocks. And he pulled me forward ... slowly forward. “Wait!” I gasped again. “Wait! You’re ... you’re going inside me! Wait!”

“Shhh,” he whispered in my ear.

“But ... but ... you’re going inside me! Wait!” I whispered urgently. And he pulled us slowly together. Slowly, slowly, slowly, more and more. “Please! Wait! You’re inside me! OH! Wait! Oh, gosh! You’re ... you’re inside me! Your cock is inside me!” I tried to push back away from him, but his strength wouldn’t allow it. Instead, I felt his pubic hair tickling my lower belly.

“Shhh,” he said again softly in my left ear. “If you get up, people will know that there’s something wrong.”

“But ... you’re inside me!” I answered, whispering it in his ear. “Let me up, please!”

“I don’t know how it happened,” he said calmly. “Now that it’s in there, it would be best to pretend that there’s nothing’s wrong. You can get up when the music starts. I think it must have slipped in because you’re so wet and slippery down there. Are you always like that?”

“Oh, God! I ... I’m sorry! I didn’t know! But ... can’t you take it out now?”

“No, I don’t think we should. If we did, and people asked me why, we might have to tell them that it’s because you get so wet.”

“B ... B ... But...”

“Shhh. Just relax and kiss me, and no one will know.”

And so, I kissed him. And I was thinking: He’s inside me! I can’t believe he’s all the way inside me! And he went in so easily! Was it really my fault? Is another man fucking me because it’s my fault? I wanted this, right? I wanted it for Terry! And, holy cow, he’s big! I’m so full of him! I wish I could move. What would it feel like if I moved on him? But ... I’d better not.

The music was playing again. He finally let go of my buttocks, and he grasped my waist and pushed me back. “OOOhhhh!” I moaned loudly as the bulk of his cock slid out, twitching upward as it cleared my fleshy channel and swiped savagely against my clit. People turned to look at me, and a couple of the girls giggled.

I was walking again, around in that damned circle. When would this end? A sudden thought burst into my head, and I slowed down, causing the girl behind me to bump into my naked backside. I’d timed it perfectly. The music stopped, I shoved the gal in front of me, and I dove atop Terry’s lap, sitting on him hard enough to elicit a surprised cry from him.

“No fair!” the girl cried. “She pushed me!”

“Now, now,” the Prophet admonished. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. None of you has anything left to lose.”

“But it was MY turn with the new guy!”

“It’s okay. Find a lap and sit down,” the Prophet admonished.

I scooted as far into Terry’s body as I could, issuing a deep gasp as the side his rigid cock split the lips of my pussy, though it was pointed upward, between us.

“Are you alright?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“Terry, I have to tell you something!” He just stared at me, so I said it all in a rush. “I sat in a man’s lap! And somehow, his cock went into my pussy! And it might have been because I was so wet! But he was really big! And I didn’t DO anything about it! And now, I’m ashamed! And ... oh, Terry, what should I do?”

“Did he hurt you?”

I looked at him questioningly. “Uh ... no?”

Terry looked at the couple to his left, so I turned to my right and looked, too. The brunette that I had shoved out of the way was sitting, impaled on the man’s cock, her head thrown back in ecstasy, her hair flailing, and she was bouncing up and down in wild abandon. Together, we turned and looked at the couple on the other side of us. This redhead wasn’t bouncing ... she was sliding, forward and back. Every time she pushed forward, she would rotate her hips, grinding herself almost savagely against her partner while she kissed him deeply.

I turned forward again. “Is this what you want, Terry?”

“Um ... Is it what YOU want?”

But I saw it in his eyes. The excitement. The longing. I leaned into him, threw my arms around his neck, and I kissed him harder than I’d ever kissed him before. The music started. “I love you, Mr. Randolph,” I said with all of my heart.

“I love you, Mrs. Randolph,” he countered.

And I rose and started walking again. I reached forward and touched the brunette’s back. “I’m sorry I pushed you,” I said above the music.

She waved and looked at me over her shoulder. “That’s okay. Did you get it out of your system?”

“Not yet, but I’m working on it,” I answered, giggling. I didn’t comment on the trail of white cum dripping down her inner thighs.

When the music stopped, I didn’t hurry at all. It really didn’t matter, anyway. Everybody was naked. I looked the man up and down with unabashed curiosity, and it was HIS turn to blush. I’d sat on his lap already, of course. I’d sat on EVERYBODY’S lap already, despite the Prophet’s obvious best efforts to keep spouses apart. He was shorter than Terry, and sort of mousy, but his erect cock was hard and thick. I slowly crawled onto his knees and shimmied forward, and he obliged by pulling me toward him. Just at the right time, I lowered my hand, grasped his prick, and bent it down toward me. It entered me effortlessly, and I didn’t try to suppress my gasp at his size. I kissed him tenderly, then I put my lips next to his ear. “I’ll do anything you want me to,” I whispered.

“I want you to move on me.”

I began bobbing my body up and down. “Like this?”

“Um ... could you ... uh...”

I stopped and began sliding forward and back, the way I’d seen the redhead next to Terry do. “Like this?”

“Oh, God. That’s great,” he groaned. Every time I pushed forward, I swiveled my hips, grinding into him, and his pubic hair was rubbing against my clit almost savagely. I longed for his lips and I kissed him, and then I moaned into his mouth. “Are you okay?” he asked, concern tinting his question.

I moved my lips back to his ear. “You’re SO big! Much larger than my husband. I’m not used to you yet.” He stiffened, and his cock jerked inside me. “Oh!” I said, finally understanding what was happening. “You get turned on when I breathe into your ear!” I pressed my lips tighter into him. “Don’t you?”

“Aaaghh!” he cried loudly. “I’m gonna’ cum!”

“Yessss!” I hissed into his ear, then threw my head back when he grew impossibly large within me. “OOOhhh!” I screamed toward the ceiling, our sounds of rapture mingling. I didn’t cum, but I think I could have if he had kept it up much longer. As it was, he was stretching me so much that I simply couldn’t have kept quiet.

Up until this point, everyone had at least made a small effort to contain their sounds of passion. But after his and my unabashed display, all attempts at discretion were abandoned. We were allowed to remain with this round’s partners longer than normal, which was nice. I cuddled into him while he slowly came down from his emotional high. “I can’t believe you’re still hard!” I told him, rising as the music began once again.

“Neither can I,” he answered, holding my hand for a long second. “Thank you.”

I laughed. “Thank YOU!”

The music started again. The Prophet was incredibly good at stopping the line of women in front of men they hadn’t been with for awhile. This man seemed nice, but less experienced than the others, and he fumbled between us for a moment after I had mounted my human saddle. “Let me,” I admonished gently, moving my slender hand downward. He seemed exasperated that he had fumbled a romantic moment, so I whispered: “After you’re inside me, I’ll do whatever you want. I can’t deny you anything once you’re inside.”

That seemed to satisfy him ... emotionally, at least ... but he wouldn’t give me a chance to move. He held me still, his arms around my waist, and thrust up into me with a movement that reminded me of two dogs I had once seen in the mating act. His cock was larger than Terry’s, but nowhere near as big as the last man. With my arms around his neck, I simply held on as he rutted for the entire time. Neither one of us orgasmed.