Hallon Seed Day 02

Mark remained silent, and willing to hear her out. She proceeded.

"He traded his soul for a... well... a life-long sex slave."

"Tha-. That kid?" Mark was actually ready to be upset, now. The idea of using a kid as a sex slave was absolutely intolerable to him.

"Not... exactly. I mean, that girl is a... demon."

He moved his head as if he did not understand, but he remained silent.

"This sounds absurd, I know, but apparently the Devil decided to kill two birds with one stone. That demon started liking humans, and wanted to be one. As punishment, he gave it the form that Phillip wanted his sex slave to have, and then chained it up in the basement."

"That 'girl' is not really a female or male, and was tens of thousands of years old before Phillip made his deal. She only LOOKS like a kid. It's just a form that fed Phillip's perversion. She's not... real, so to speak."

"Is it just me, or are pressing that point pretty hard?"

"Yeah... I am." She paused a moment. "Part of the punishment was immortality, so she can't ever die, but if she doesn't eat, she will suffer the pain of hunger, which she has been for about a hundred years, but the only food that will ease that hunger is... in her own words, the Hallon seed."

He gave her that silent head gesture again.

"That's why she..." Julie mimed drinking from a cup. "And you have... Hallon seed."

He still had no response to what he was being told.

"So that her punishment would be endless, the entire main structure of the house was made indestructible, as well as her chains. Even her body, except for her skin, is completely indestructible, so she can't ever escape her chains. Not even by chopping off her hands. But she can still be hurt."

"Phillip tortured her, Mark. He whipped her and cut her for fun, but she always fully healed in a matter of a day or two, so he could keep doing it in addition to raping her." Julia started to tear up, and her voice quivered, but she continued. "And in spite of all that, she was made to need him in order to NOT suffer pain."

Julia fell into Mark's shoulder, and he held her, letting her cry. He could tell that she was identifying with this demon. There was no exact parallel between them, but she was relating to it on some level.

She lifted her head and wiped her tears, looking at him with pleading eyes.

"I know what this means, but I can't... I can't just stand by and do nothing. I can't just leave here and pretend I'm not leaving someone to suffer, but there is literally nothing I can do except beg YOU to help her."

This was absolutely not the moment he had imagined, but not only did he see the sincerity in her eyes, he saw it screaming for escape. He held her head and met her lips, providing a lifeline. Her facade was finally ready to crumble into dust.

When their lips parted, she immediately hugged him tightly.

"Thank you," she said so quietly that he was not entirely certain that she was saying it to him.

He said nothing. He just hugged her back and wished he didn't have to pee so badly. He didn't want to ruin the moment, so he waited for her to let go.

She parted from him, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," he said, rubbing the side of her arm.

"What are you going to do," she asked.

"Pee," he replied, flatly, thinking to himself that sometimes she needs to just not ask questions. She exhaled a small laugh, and a smile returned to her face. Or maybe it's fine that she does, he reconsidered. He smiled at her, stood up and headed downstairs again to use the hole he'd dug behind the outhouse.

When he finished, he returned to the bedroom to find her standing and waiting with a plastic disposable cup in hand. So, she really means for me to do this, he thought. As he approached her, he stared at the cup, and then in her eyes that fixated on his.

It was going to feel very awkward for him to masturbate knowing she knew what he was doing, and her standing there with container in hand did not help. Is this what sperm donors feel like after they've met the receptionist?

She looked away turned just enough to place the cup on the bed. He stopped right in front of her. He wasn't expecting to have to provide so soon, but no time like the present, he supposed.

"So, I g-" Her lips stopped his from moving. Her hands held his head still. She backed her head away to read his expression. "What are you-"

"Shh," she cut him off, gently. "Just be quiet, and let me do this." He had no desire to argue, and her lips were on his again.

His objective began to fade from his mind as he realized that what he had desperately wanted, in his more vulnerable moments, was now happening. Or was it?

He had wanted her to choose him. He had wanted to be the object of her desire. He wanted her to kiss him exactly like this: Unexpectedly.

But was that really what was happening? Did she want him, or did she just want to help him, so she could feel like she was doing something useful?

Her hands moved to his neck, then his shoulders. He resisted the urge to care less about the question as her palms glided down over his bare chest. Her fingers swiped outward and her thumbs brushed back a forth across his nipples. He had never cared anything about his nipples, the way women give attention to their own, but this... this made his mind tingle.

He breathed between the beats of her kisses.

He dared not move as one of her hands slid down his abdomen, causing him to swell at her destination. Both waist bands allowed her passage. Slowly through his hair, and then the sensation of her fingertips along his length sucked in his breath. He moaned, and as if it were a reward, she kissed him longer.

Her fingers wrapped around him, teasing along the edge of the underside. She slowly moved him up and down, sometimes gripping tightly enough to force his skin. Sometimes loosely enough to slide her palm and let her fingertip caress the head.

Her free hand traveled to the back of his waist and waited. He released pre-cum and she spread it, then lightly teased to coax more from the tip. Another helping was delivered, and that was her signal to begin pushing down the waistband of his underwear along with his gym pants.

When his buttock was free, she took a moment to clutch it and massage, grip it tightly before continuing.

When her hand could go no further, she left his lips, looked him directly in the eyes and began lowering herself, maintaining her gaze as both hands pushed his clothes the rest of the way down his legs. He felt her fingers leave a short, wet trail of his lubricant tapering down his thigh.

On her knees and looking him in the eyes. His mind reeled. One hand returned to his buttock, the other held his base and pointed him directly at her mouth. Was this real?

Her lips opened and sheathed him.

His eyes closed an his head went back. His ability to stand upright left him. He gently held the back of her head with one hand, and found the mattress with the other.

"Oh, god," he invoked, the security of the bed beneath him, and the security of her mouth around him.

Her tongue pressed and swiped along him and around him. Her hand cupped his balls. He desperately wanted to hold her head firmly and push into her, but the tiny fragment of rational thought that remained stopped him. And yet, somehow he was suddenly deep within her, every inch of him compressed.

"Oh my god. I'm going to cum," he managed to breath, warning her, as a courtesy. She pulled away, and every corner of his mind screamed, NOOOO!

He desperately grabbed himself and began stroking. His grip felt unfamiliar, but then the muscles in his abdomen and groin tensed and released, repeatedly firing the small sensation of mass through the length of him, and that unfamiliarity stopped mattering.

The intensity of each surge began decreasing, until what remained had to be expelled manually. That unfamiliarity returned to his attention. Breathing heavily, he opened his eyes.

For half a second, he was confused. Julia was kneeling with a cup held under the head of his dick, and his hand was wrapped around hers, wrapped around him.

He blinked and then began remembering why he was doing this to begin with. He remembered his purpose. He remembered his doubt.

He released his grip and fell backward onto the bed to recover. He put his hands on his face, his fingers covering his eyes to block out the light, allowing him to think.

Such a bittersweet thing this was. The irony was not lost on him that it was possible that Julia had simply just used him, as she had been used so many times before. He wished he could read her mind, right now.

He felt her finish getting what she could out of him, and let go. He heard her leave the room. She was going to feed his cum to a... He had to keep reminding himself that it was not really a kid, not that it helped him feel that much better.

Another uneasy thought creeped into his mind. If it is a demon, then how can they be sure it's telling them the truth? So far, he and Julia have been relying solely on its word about what happened in the past.

What if Phillip captured the demon to protect himself? What if he told his wife to leave with their son, to get them far from danger? What if he stayed to ensure the demon could never escape?

Mark had no definitive proof of either case. Maybe there was something in the house. A diary or journal. He even reluctantly entertained the idea of a spell book. He would search the house later. Right now, though, he was very hungry.

He sat up and opened his eyes, looking at his deflated penis. He noticed a fallen drop of the inevitable post-cum on the floor. He looked around for something with which to wipe himself. Finding nothing suitable, he decided to just wipe himself on the side of the century-old mattress sheet.

The thought went through his head that it probably wasn't generally a good idea to rub your dick hole against unwashed one hundred year old cloth, but he did it anyway. It's been a rough morning.

He changed into some different clothes and went downstairs. As he looked for that can of stew, from last night, Julia emerged from the basement door carrying the, presumably now empty, cup, and set it on the end of the counter.

"Hungry," he asked, holding the can up for her to see.

"Very," she replied. She took a package of small paper plates out of the provisions box and tore open the plastic wrapping, removed two plates and set them out.

Mark, thankful for small modern conveniences, pulled the tab on the top of the can, and peeled away the lid. Julia handed him a spoon, and he shoveled equal portions onto the plates. It came out thick with bits of congealed grease that looked almost like debris.

"I think you're supposed to add water," he said, evidently not caring enough to go through the effort.

"It's fine as it is," said Julia, completely understanding, and sharing, his apathy. They took their plates, sat in their chairs, and began eating.

They were both quiet in thought for a time, but then Julia brought him out of his contemplation.

"Would there happen to be scissors packed with the camping equipment," she inquired.

"Yeah," he answered through a mouthful.

"I'd like to clean her up. Somehow give her a bath and cut her hair."

"Hm," Mark acknowledged. The house had no indoor plumbing, and... it... was unable to leave the basement, Mark assessed. There was an old water pump behind the house, but he had no idea if it worked. He started thinking of the things they had that could be used as some sort of tub, but nothing came to mind.

"We should really take inventory of this house," he said. With any luck, they would find some useful clues as to what really did happen between Phillip and the demon.

"Yeah," Julia agreed. "I mean, there should be one of those tubs that they did laundry in, right? You know, with the washboard." She moved her fork hand to mime pushing and pulling soiled clothes across the metal ribs.

He nodded. He wanted to express his doubts about the demon to Julia, but something inside was telling him to keep it to himself, for the moment, at least. It just seemed like nothing good would come of it without something tangible to offer.

"I'll see if that water pump in back is any good. A bath does sound nice."

"Yeah," Julia agreed in short laugh. Especially in a few days. Oh, please tell me you have one of those camping shower bags that heats the water in the sun."

Mark smiled and nodded.

"Awesome."

They finished eating, and then went about their individual objectives.

The metal water pump was stubborn, but with some effort and a lot of pumping, he managed to get a halfway decent flow of smelly rust colored water going. He continued pumping to see if would clear up, and after a few minutes it started looking and smelling like something he wouldn't be afraid to touch.

He felt it wise to boil it before attempting to consume any of it, but at least they had a free water source.

In the kitchen, he found a large pot they could use for boiling, a few rags that had managed to remain in usable condition, and a pail. He went ahead and lit the stove, and then collected some well water to boil. This particular water was not for consuming, but why take the risk?

Eventually, Julia entered the kitchen with a smile, holding up a laundry tub for him to see, and the boxed camping shower at her side.

"Bingo," she said, excited. She set the shower on the floor, out of the way, and headed through the open door to the basement. "Guess what, kiddo," she said, descending, and a wave of discomfort hit Mark.

He was trying to do everything he could to see that demon as something other than a young girl. That may have been an entertaining moment of suspension of disbelief for Julia, but it was definitely not helping him.

He set the large pot on the stove, poured in the water, and went back out for a second pail full. He dumped that in, and it was just a matter of time. He decided to use that time searching for some useful information, and he figured a good place to start was the study.

He searched shelves and drawers, and while there seemed to be more than a few sinister looking books, none of them supported the case for or against Phillip. Whether he was summoning or entrapping, he would still need demonic knowledge.

Mark found it odd that there was no journal of any kind. If the man was evil, then he would undoubtedly be expressing his self-importance somewhere. If he was good, then it seemed reasonable that he would write down important information for anyone who might discover the demon after his death.

He would search the rest of the house another time. The water should be boiling by now.

He returned to the kitchen, and indeed the water was bubbling quite a bit. He used a couple of the old rags as potholders and carefully hefted the pot off of the stove and onto the marble counter top.

"Hey, Julia," he called out. In a moment she poked her head through the door.

"Yeah?"

"I have some water ready," he informed. Her face lit up.

"Awesome. Thank you." She practically bounced the rest of the way through the door.

He began pouring some of the water back into the pail, for easier carrying down the steps.

"It'll need to cool off quite a bit. It was just boiling, but it'll be a warm bath."

"Okay." Julia hefted the pail off the counter. "It'll have time to cool while we cut her hair." She started back toward the door.

"We?"

She stopped and looked him in the eye, with peaceful compassion on her face.

"I know how you see her, but that's not what she is. Avoiding her won't help you."

He tried to think of a counter-argument, but he knew she was right.

"Bring down the rest of the water. Let's do this together." She turned and went through the door. After a moment, he lifted the pot and followed her.

Julia had already brought down scissors, her comb and hairbrush, and a new bar of soap, as well as her manicure kit. She finished dumping her water into the laundry tub, and then he emptied the pot into it. He set the pot down and was suddenly feeling rather useless, standing there watching Julia pick at the demon's mass of tangled, filthy hair.

"What's... her... name?" He felt it would be rude to call the demon an it. Julia shot him a glance that told him to ask the demon, instead of Julia.

"I'm sorry." The demon turned its head enough to look at Mark without hindering Julia's efforts. "What is your name?"

"I do not remember my name. Many of my memories were removed when I was put into this body. I have little knowledge of my previous self."

The contrast between the demon's eloquence and the voice with which it spoke was jarring to Mark. Julia picked up the scissors and began cutting fistfuls of hair away. Mark turned over the pail and used it as a stool.

"Tell me more about why you were being punished," Mark asked, making an effort to avoid making this feel like an interrogation. The demon faced forward again, pausing in contemplation.

"It was once my purpose to create misery. I was an unseen, unheard whisper that guided humans toward atrocity, and I did so very well, but there were many who were able to resist. At first I was angry, believing it insolence, but then I saw that it was strength."

"My eternal single-mindedness became split by my curiosity. I became fascinated by what love could achieve. The only joy I had ever experienced, if it was even indeed joy, was in the pain of others. I was no longer blind to true joy, and I longed for it."

"I stopped whispering and began simply observing. Learning. I noticed the greatest joy humans felt was in the aid of their fellow humans, and so I became a whisper guiding humans toward compassion. When I experienced that joy for myself, my betrayal was discovered."

"My punishment was to suffer inescapable misery. The atrocities I was meant to inspire were to be set upon me. And what good is being punished if you don't know why it is happening? I was allowed to remember my original purpose, as well as how I betrayed it. My punishment was meant to drive me back to that purpose. To make me hate humanity once more."

Julia turned the demon around to attend to the back of its hair. The demon was utterly compliant.

"I was intended to be passed down through generations of Hallon descendants, trapped in endless torture and degradation, but Lady Hallon provided a bittersweet respite when she fled this place with the Hallon heir."

"There were many times when I was not certain if constant starvation was the lesser pain to suffer, but her choice may be the only reason I am not currently overwhelmed by a seething hatred for all of humankind. It was often a struggle, but I chose to count myself fortunate."

Mark needed a moment to process all of that. Julia sniffed, turned the demon back around, and wrapped her arms around the demon in hug. The demon was motionless for a moment, but then slowly raised its right hand, and placed a hand on Julia's arm. It was as if the demon was returning the hug, but was not sure how to do it properly, not that the chain that connected its hands would have allowed for a proper hug.

Julia let go and wiped her eyes.

"These scissors weren't meant for haircuts, and I'm certainly not a stylist, but I think that will do for the moment." She set the scissors down, lifted the demon's arms out front and began unfastening buttons hidden beneath the overlap that ran from the sleeve to the neck.

Mark looked at how it was made, and deduced that the sleeves being split along their length was the only way to actually remove the single garment.

"Could you get those," Julia gestured with her head, indicating the buttons along the right arm. He reached up, hesitantly, but began pushing buttons through their holes.