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(My second naughty story, whoo! Unlike the previous work, Noir Romance, this uses much more psychological depravity and is intended to be the beginning of a story series. The basics are simple; A demon called a corrupter, similar to an incubus, writes a journal to categorize and re-live his experiences. Feedback appreciated! And as always, enjoy.)

I suppose that, in all honesty, I don't really know where the propensity started. An inkling, a craving, a whim somewhere down the line carried to its logical conclusion. However it happened is truly unimportant compared to the feeling once the deed was done. I hovered over my conquest, panting with eyes stretched wide... and knew instantly I was addicted to this, this feeling, this sight that lay stretched out and weakly writhing beneath me. I had never known I had this ability, but once I'd used it the first time... I knew I could never stop.

My name is... unimportant. What is important is that I'm what demonologists call a 'corrupter'. I can sense the darkest of shadows that lurk inside a person's heart; hidden desires harken to me like caged larks, you see. And once I find that little spot of black, I sooth it... nurture it... and unleash it upon the mortal who dared believe themselves master. The feeling of freeing someone else's demons is a bit like the feeling of watching someone stumble into a practical joke - a devious mirth one knows one shouldn't feel, which of course only enhances the perverted pleasure. It is hard to explain, but while I have this journal to keep I shall try to clarify my fascination via an example.

My third use of my powers was the most interesting, for a number of particular reasons. The first instance, as is the case with most manifestations of demonic powers, was an accident - one which occurred amid the nervous fumbling that is a boy losing his virginity. The second time, in that same vein, was just a test drive; I had to see if I could use the same trick I had just discovered, so it was more trial and error than anything. But the third... that was different. Yes, this time there was planning, calculation, knowledge. She was no longer just a victim; she was a target. I have to say, it adds a bit of thrill to the seduction when the knowledge is there that you're about to do more than simply undress and caress.

For this night, this particular special moment, I had picked a local girl. Stacy was her name; sweet, bubbly, busty bit of bunny-girl. She was annoyingly upbeat and chipper, with a body so sinfully curvy it put porn actresses to shame.

And deep, so deep inside her, was a darkly perverted monster screaming for freedom.

I won't bore you, dear reader, with the details of my seduction of her. It was painfully easy; I let a few lust-struck morons buy her a few drinks, swooped in to play the hero, and with a few kind words and an invitation to my place she was mine.

You poor thing, I thought to myself as I took her hand and lead her to my car. You're so naïve and trusting. I almost feel bad for this.

But the word almost leaves so much moral wiggle-room. And as soon as I got her home, and that soft supple form of hers almost literally fell into my arms, all guilt was gone. She was begging for me, verbally and with her delicious physique pressed tight against my own. Morality be damned; she would get what she paid for.

God I was clumsy back then.

By clumsy, I mean still new to my abilities. I lacked the restraint I have now - a lack of training can be a foolish thing. She kissed me, I kissed back, and a spark of my power slipped free; the hollowing, soul-corrupting force that is and always will be inside me, lunging towards her the same way fire leaps desperately for dried timber. She pulled away instantly, and in her eyes I could see the questioning, the fear. Not to lie, my dear reader; sometimes I let bits of myself slip like that today, just to see that fear and ease it away. Oh, the sweetness of it; to have my targets become slightly aware of what I am, and watch as they ignore every instinct to flee in the interest of pleasure.

It makes me chuckle a bit every time.

After I had rubbed her cheek, reassured her, and offered a few more platitudes, we kissed again. By then I was able to hold myself back. Part of me thought some damage had already been done, though; the hunger behind her lips was surprising even for me. She even seemed more depraved in the way she peeled my clothes off. But I suppose that may have been purely physical; rabbits always fawn over big, mean canines like me. I see no point in being modest - I was toned, with a masculine cut to my physique and the roguish good looks 40-year-old women drool about in the literary masturbatory aids they call romance novels. I was, and am, a 'bad-boy' with smooth, chocolate fur and wavy hair. I was, in short, everything she should have been afraid of for all the right reasons.

No wonder she wanted me so badly.

Halfway back to my bedroom, I ripped her halter-top in half. She giggled and said some gibberish about borrowing one of my shirts tomorrow. I groped her soft, all natural e-cup breasts, and mentioned half-jokingly how good the white-furred globed would look with my name tattooed across them. Between moans as I teased her pink little nipples, she promised to consider it if I kept up the good work.

Poor girl.

She turned around, leading me to my own room, making sure to rub her tiny cotton tail against my abs and her plump, soft rear against my loins. I'll say this much; she knew how to work what she had. She'd seen me staring at her ass from across the room, and knew just what I wanted. God, the talents you'll have once I'm done with you, I thought with a spurt of childish glee.

I could hardly wait, and neither could she. She pulled her skirt and panties down in one wiggly little dance-move, determined to save them from my lack of patience, then hopped atop my bed on all fours. She looked back at me, gave her own ass a wiggle, and slapped it for my viewing pleasure. The moans she let out were as delectably sweet as sin itself. And when she rolled onto her back, began rubbing her lower lips with one hand, and motioned me over with the other before moving it to her breast... It was an image from even my darkest fantasies.

I wonder if it ever occurred to her, as I hungrily eyed her and began to position myself above her, that I meant her no good. It crosses my mind that, as she stared up at the chocolate Labrador looming over her about to stuff his red-pink canid cock into her quim, she may have realized relations with predator and prey are usually based upon dark intent. But if the thought did happen across her mind, those half-lidded blue eyes didn't show it. All they did was scream to me, as the rest of her did, that she was aching for this as badly as I was. She leaned up against me and whispered something... sounded like well-learned porn dialogue. All the right words, long 's' sounds, pauses for oohs and groans of lust... cementing her hold of me.

I almost broke out in laughter. Here she was, trying her hardest to seduce me. I was the beast, the monster under her bed, the mother-fucking boogie man... and she was doing her best to make sure I came to her. Sometimes the irony is too much, even for me.

I bit down on her shoulder, partially to cover my sadistic smirking, and partially to feel her reaction. Just as I'd thought, she shuddered, bucked, writhed; her body pressed hungrily up against my own, her nails digging into my back. Her hunger was rising in tempo with my own. Her gasps and whimpered pleas were syrup to me... but at last, the time for delicacy and such was over. Time for the heart of what we'd both come for.

The moment I began to sink into her, I let go of her shoulder. The face, dear reader, the face my target as I spear them open so ludicrously wide, and they realize how deep I've reached with more to come... that face is worth thousands of words. Each one is different, and to be prized in its own way. I'll never forget the view of sweet soft Stacy as my tapered tip kissed her cervix - the disbelief leading up to it; the mixture of fear and joy as she realized it was really going to happen; and the final face as she felt what she'd been anticipating since she met me. With her, there was the eye-roll and groan; pupils running to the back of her head, mouth gaped open in a hungry smile as he tongue slipped free of her lips. As I began to speed up, it brought her back to reality a bit and she tried to be more demure; tilting her head to the side, biting hard on the sheets, closing her eyes tight. Another twisted smile crossed me as I realized what she was doing.

She wasn't going to give me the satisfaction of her depraved face of lust unless I earned it.

So earn it I did... a hand around her neck and a snarl forced her to look up at me. There it was, the second look I'd grow to love as my powers increased; the look of prey fearing their predator and entranced lover reveling in the pleasures I brought her.

She never even saw as my eyes changed color, poor girl. Her mind was too tied up trying to process all the feelings of our sexual congress. She didn't question the shadows of carnal desire creeping through her, becoming more powerful with each motion of my member inside her; it was just another piece of the swirling sensual roller-coasted I had her on. Hell, once my knot formed I could've been a serial killer for all she cared; the feel of it mashing against her clit was enough to make her beg me for more, pull closer to me, buck back against me.

It was perfect. So, I stopped holding back. I let my venom reach into her, delve into that deep recess of her soul, and unleash it upon her mind. The feel of it... I can only imagine. I pulled back from her a bit to watch her entire body as she underwent the transformation. She shivered at first, and then thrashed violently about, my dick still lodged deep inside her. She gripped her head as if fearing it would burst open, then opened her eyes and stared at me, begging for an explanation.

I simply stroked her cheek and swore to her it would be over soon. The entire time, mind you, I was still fucking her relentlessly, and enjoying the feel of my member stabbing into her deepest and most sacred of places as she fought the losing battle against the evil within her very being. That evil, literally and metaphorically, being me at the moment... but also, the darkness within her, which was now slamming around in its cage and rattling her core in an attempt to be free of her moral constraints.

She was so torn, and her dilemma was immaculate to watch. As body and heart sang of what they truly wanted, her mind tried to insist it wasn't true, that she wasn't that way. Her face twisted into a deranged mask of pleasure, even as she verbally denied she enjoyed this, that she was as depraved and twisted as she felt.

But soon, so very soon, she lost as they always do. I felt her cunny beginning to convulse around me, heard her whimpers and groans, and saw every sign of her impending orgasm. And it was then I stopped, pulling out completely. The emptiness, I knew, hurt in a way my presence never could. She clawed at the air, trying desperately to reach me as I moved away from her a step too far. She rolled onto her hands and knees, grabbing my throbbing maleness with a desperation normally reserved for drug-addicts, and began to lick and kiss her way along its length amid pleas for more and promises she'd do whatever I desired.

She accepted me into her maw with no resistance. I could feel her inner revulsion, as she thought with dismay about the fact she's always hated fellatio and promised herself she'd only perform it on her true love. But her body happily betrayed such principles, suckling and bobbing her head with reckless joy as my veined pole pulsed inside her mouth. As my first orgasm careened towards me like a freight train, I slammed myself into her maw, knot inflating there and tying her around me with my full cock lodged in her throat. She couldn't move, couldn't scream, and could do nothing my gag upon my cock as it furiously filled her. She swallowed it, had no choice but to swallow it, and at the last I saw her eyes roll up to me in a silent thank-you before once again hiding in the back of her skull.

You've lost yourself, poor girl.

She didn't wait long. Before my knot was even fully deflated, it was out of her mouth, and she was spinning around with her plump perfect rump in the air again. This time however, she was not rolling over for the comforts of missionary. To her inner horror, she licked two of her fingers and plunged them ravenously into her own tight little anal star, whimpering as she realized how good she felt. She looked back at me, and in between her self-loathing and pleasure there was only one common ground. A single agreement was reached between the struggling moral party-girl and the depraved slut who needed cock in her at all costs and in all holes.

She knew I did this, Stacy did. She knew I had released this part of her, turned her over to the most depraved reaches of her inner lusts. She'd had one-night stands before, sure. She'd partied a bit, of course. But never had she been so wanton with a stranger, and the only explanation was me. A part of her, I knew, would always despise me for this moment.

The other part reached a second hand back, spread her anus for me, and begged me to slide into her taught, tight tailhole.

Of course I obliged. There was no gentleness to it, either. Her spit and fem-juices had slickened me up for her, which was good. I wasn't stopping until the job was done, and as she looked back at me with horror realizing her anal cherry had been roughly taken from her, her second self morphed the fear and despair into lustful gratitude. Exact words fail, but I do believe she thanked me.

I gripped her hair, slapped her ass, and ordered her to face forward. My intensity was only building, the force of my thrusts more powerful and deliberate. This was fucking, pure and simple, and she would take it. Her last vestiges of purity would crumble like sand sculptures before the wave of carnal pleasure I brought to flood her body, and as she yowled and convulsed, I could feel her pussy slather my legs with fem-cum while she rolled through orgasm after orgasm.

She begged for my knot after a while. And when I finally gave it to her, and the bulge spread her anal cavity even wider than it already was, I felt her break. She was broken, she was riddled with guilt and remorse... and even in the throes of this shame she loved the feelings I was giving her. I could tell she knew what this meant, knew she could never go back, knew she was doomed to become a sensual slave addicted to the pleasures she'd always viewed as sin.

It was at that moment, sure she had realized this, I allowed myself to flood her bowels with my cum. She was no longer struggling; the bunny girl beneath me was a weak and twitching pleasure puddle, capable of doing nothing besides moaning as my sperm gushed into her so much it bloated her belly a bit. Her dark transformation complete, I felt her move her hands back to rub at her tummy with a vacant stare of pleasure. Her mind had floated far away, bobbing up and down in a sea of her own cum and mine. As she recovered a bit, she mumbled some pleasured nonsense about the warmth in her stomach, how good the fullness felt, and the single word I'd waited to hear all night.

"More."

I assured her there would be with a brush of my hand against her cheek, and let her lay there with her face against the mattress twisted in that expression of sex-maddened, agonized bliss. She was truly shattered now, and would only enjoy such rough meetings of loins from here on out. She would corrupt others, and corrupt herself further, and the delicious sin of it all would feed me just as it fed me that moment she succumbed to me.

I still hear from her from time to time. In fact, she is calling my cell phone as I write this final passage. Odds are I will travel to see her, dear reader, so I will write you afterwards. Until then, may the tale of my previous conquest nurture your inner flames of desire just as it has long nurtured mine.

~The Corrupter