Relaxing in the chair by her bed, Asmodeus sat, his legs parted and Mother Theresa bobbing her head slowly up and down his aching shaft. It wasn’t the Victoria Secret model, at his engorged member which made it hard and stiff. No, it was Elizabeth, sleeping soundly, dressed in tank top and cami-knickers under a soft sheer sheet. Breathing hard, Asmodeus watched her chest rise, the pin prick nipples pressing against the cotton. Moving his fingers in slow deliberate ways, the sheet slipped from her body. The wet patch between her legs made him smile, the vulva, hard and swollen, belied her nightmarish thoughts. Mother Theresa sucked on his head, purple and rigid against her warm, wet tongue. Gripping a fistful of her hair, he twisted her head and forced her to look at him. “Thank you for bringing her to me; you shall have your reward. Now, though, I need to be alone with my Elizabeth.” “Yes, Master.” She licked her lips, smiled at him, and left. Asmodeus got to his feet and slipped onto the bed, sitting by Elizabeth’s side.
