[SNEAK PEEK]Good to the Last Bite
Mephistopheles has a snack.
This is just a preview; the full story will go live next month, but if that's simply too long to wait, head over to my Subscribestar to read it, and other stories like it, before everyone else~!
Good to the Last Bite
**By Limewah
Subscriber Reward for Moxas (Feb 2024)**
**18+
SNEAK PEEK**
“Just one morsel left,” Mephistopheles said, with a sadistically mirthless smile. He was looking down at his kneeling pet, stroking his cheek and the top of his head.
The grey-furred goat would have towered over his raccoon thrall even if said thrall wasn’t hunched and looking up at his master with a drooling, docile expression. The raccoon’s posture had gone out the window a long time ago. There were barely any hints of that old nervous, bookish sparkle in his eyes now; they now were more on the grey side of blue-grey. His once slender figure was now toned and muscular, like he’d been forced to fend for himself in the woods for a month. Mephistopheles had made sure he was working out as often as possible. Since they were by the mansion’s pool, a swim would do the pair of them good.
Mephistopheles didn’t really adhere to the adage that one shouldn’t swim after a meal.
The demon held the glowing, truffle-shaped ball of light between his fingers. A thin strand like melted cheese connected it to the centre of the raccoon’s forehead. The goat smiled and opened his mouth wide before letting it slip into his mouth. It had such a delectable give - the last vestige of the soul was always the tastiest part.
“Thank you for this delicious treat, Adamos,” he said as he cradled the ‘bonbon’ in the corner of his mouth. The raccoon paid no heed, their eyes currently focused on Mephistopheles’ thick, throbbing member. There was only the barest flicker of hesitance left. The tiny connection to the last piece of his soul was the only thing separating him from his feral, horny hungers.
“Adamos?” the goat asked again. The raccoon’s eyes didn’t even flicker with recognition. The ringtail had forgotten his name with the previous bite of his soul, and there was only the barest hint of self actualisation. Mephistopheles chuckled, pursing his lips around the tiny strand and tugging once to un-moor it.
The raccoon groaned like a feral beast, divested of all but the tiniest fleck of his soul once again. He whined and drooled with need, his mouth practically foaming with saliva as his head angled towards the pendulous demon-cock.
Mephistopheles chuckled with delight, and cracked the soul-piece between his teeth.
Demons experience taste differently to us, and souls, too, have an equally indescribable flavour. But regardless, it was Mephistopheles’ favourite.
As the husk lunged muzzle first towards the goat’s crotch, Mephistopheles grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and held him at bay. He was lapping at the air and scrabbling.
“Good boy,” Mephistopheles said, still enjoying the soul’s flavour as it bloomed and dissolved in his mouth. “Do you want your treat, now?”
“RRrghgh…” the raccoon groaned and growled, still trying to get their tongue to touch that cock. The tip of the cock was barely an inch away from his nose, and he kept pulling against his master like a disobedient puppy.
“Oh, I can’t deny you at all, can I…” The goat smiled, and released his grip. Within a half second, the husk’s throat was entirely wrapped around Mephistopheles’ cock. There was no hint of a gag reflex left, now, and the raccoon sucked like he was made for this task, like it was the most delicious taste in the world for him.
Which it was.
Without one’s soul, one became governed by their most base instincts, whatever those might be. Whatever sin felt most appropriate to them. In this particular case, thanks to some very careful, subtle prodding from the goat, the raccoon formerly known as Adamos thought of nothing but the body of his master, and of tasting every inch.
Mephistopheles allowed the empty mortal to salivate and groan for a little while, mesmerising him with little pulses of his member, before finally giving the base creature what he desired and burying his cock throat-deep in that needy throat.
The transition was always a delicious one. The moment the beast had a mouthful of cock, that feral hunger immediately subsided into a needy whine. There was a wonderful duality to Mephistopheles’ toy, and the way his baser urges pulled them in these two directions.
It wouldn’t last forever. There was an art to eating a mortal’s soul. One had to leave just a little fleck left; that would be enough to let it regenerate, to gradually allow the pet to think he was called ‘Adamos’ again, and remember his old life. Which, in turn, would develop that soul’s delicious flavour all over again.
For now, though, Mephistopheles swallowed the last gulp of his current meal. The faint glow of the soul spread through him, barely visible like veins of light moving just beneath his sooty fur.
**To read the rest early, Subscribe!