It was a small suburban park – tidy, well mown, and centred around a children’s playground. To Sandra, blind drunk after a night of partying, it seemed like the perfect place to fall asleep on her way home from the bar.
But she woke in the middle of the night to the sound of a voice – a dark, alien voice, that came from everywhere and nowhere, buzzing and echoing in her head.
“Awaken, human slut,” said the voice. “I am Morhal, Lord of Domination. I hold power over all human bitches. In ancient times men prayed to me to make their women more docile and sexually pleasing, and to humiliate those bitches who sinned against them.”
“What’s happening?” said Sandra, her head foggy and her stomach churning. She didn’t understand who was speaking, even as its words seared themselves in her mind.
“This place was my site of power,” continued the voice, “until unbelievers came, and built over it. But my presence still dwells. I require tribute. You can serve me, human slut, and be rewarded for it.”
“What do you mean?” asked Sandra. She felt sure this must be a dream. She thought she may as well play along.
“Masturbate for me, here, in this park,” said the voice. “Let yourself be led by your cunt like the animal you are. Your self-abasement will give me power, and in return you shall be rewarded.”
Sandra felt a tingle in her pussy. It was dark. There was no one around. There was no reason not to do as the voice said – and, after all, it was just a dream. She reached into her panties and began to finger her pussy. It didn’t take long for her to orgasm – and when she did, she felt sleep returning.
She fell into darkness.
A single phrase spoke in her dreams.
“Return within three days, and give me tribute again, and your rewards shall increase.”
Sandra thought little of her “dream” the next morning. She awoke in the park, staggered home, showered, got dressed, and went to work.
But a string of good fortune followed her all day. In the morning, she discovered she had received the promotion she had applied for. Then at lunch, her bank notified her that it had made an error in her finances, and it in fact owed her two thousand dollars, which it was transferring into her account immediately. And after work, while playing her favourite mobile phone game, she had a run of near-perfect luck, and unlocked three exceptionally rare characters in a row.
She thought back to her “dream”, and the voice. It couldn’t have been real, could it?
But what if it was? And what would it cost her to check?
That night, near midnight, she crept back to the park. The voice didn’t speak, but she found a hidden place near some bushes, and masturbated again.
Just as she orgasmed, she heard the buzzing voice say, “Good girl. You will be rewarded.”
And then it added, “But tomorrow, I demand you return and masturbate while the sun is shining.”
The next day was as fortunate as the last. She found a twenty-dollar bill lying on the road. A woman she hated got banned from social media. The supermarket cashier only charged her for one pack of chocolates, even though she had bought four.
She thought about what the voice had said (or what she had thought it said) – that she had to masturbate at the park during daylight. But she was busy, and there could be people at the park during the day. Someone might see her.
So she avoided the park the entire day. At night, she went back, took off her panties, and masturbated in the dark, hoping it would appease the voice, and continue her run of good luck.
But when she was about to reach orgasm, she instead felt a shock of agonising pain in her pussy, and the voice spoke.
“DISOBEDIENT SLUT,” it said. “You have disobeyed me, and for each time you disobey me, you will become closer to the mindless sex animal you truly are. Tomorrow you will obey. Tomorrow you will masturbate by daylight.”
Sandra moaned at the pain in her pussy, and tried to put her panties back on – but her body refused to obey. Her hand refused to so much as touch her panties, let alone pick them up and put them on.
She was forced to leave them there, in the dirt, and walk home with no panties.
At home, she discovered she couldn’t wear *any* panties. Her hands wouldn’t even open her underwear drawer.
The voice was real. It had cursed her – cursed her to go without underwear.
The curse was still there the next day. She couldn’t wear panties – and nor, she discovered, could she wear pants. Only skirts were acceptable, apparently.
Almost as soon as the sun was up, she scurried down to the park. The sun was up, but it was blessedly empty, with no one to be seen. She found the most concealed part of the park she could – although, even here, she was visible from the footpath – and knelt down, raised her skirt, and began to masturbate.
Being *visible* actually made her wet faster, and made the masturbation feel intense. She came quickly…
… but not quickly enough. A man jogged by on the footpath as she was climaxing, and his eyes widened as he saw Sandra rubbing her pussy in public.
Sandra’s face reddened – but the voice was speaking, and it was clear that only Sandra could hear it.
“Good bitch,” it said. “You will be rewarded with luck befitting your gender. Tomorrow, you will return during daylight, and you will use the swing set in the playground, with your skirt raised and your cunt visible. You will swing until a man has seen your cunt, and then you will immediately begin to masturbate until you reach orgasm.”
Sandra rebelled. She immediately decided that she would *not* be doing that. This had gone far enough.
And nor did she get the kind of good luck she had received on the last two days, either. There were no cash windfalls or happy accidents. Instead, she actually had her skirt blown up by wind outside work, so that several of her male co-workers saw her pussy. Then during the morning she overheard two other male co-workers discussing how “fuckable” she was, and blushed as one said she looked like “a good little fuckdoll”. And then after work, she somehow managed to use her phone to accidentally take a photo of herself topless, and then send it to her boss.
She went back to the park that night, but instead of masturbating, she just swore at the voice. “Where are you, Morhal, you fuck?” she hissed. “Where’s my good luck? I’ve had nothing but humiliation and objectification all day.”
There was no reply – nothing except the words “luck befitting your gender” echoing in her head.
The next day there was no luck of any kind – although she still couldn’t wear underwear. She went nowhere near the park. She had no intention of exposing herself on the whim of some misogynist ghost. That night she slept soundly, in her own bed.
The next morning, she woke, took her contraceptive pill – and immediately vomited. Her stomach instantly and violently rebelled, rejecting the pill. And when she had cleaned up her mess, allowed her stomach to settle, and tried again, it immediately repeated itself.
The message was clear. No contraceptives. Morhal had visited a new curse upon her for her disobedience.
She was scared. How long would these curses last for? Forever? Or would their power fade if she kept avoiding the park?
She thought about doing what Morhal wanted – spreading her pussy on the swings, and waiting until someone saw her. But she couldn’t do it.
At work she was aware of eyes on her body – her boss’, her co-workers. A subtle shift had happened in the men around her, as if they no longer saw her like a person, but rather as a sex-toy that they were working out how to use.
Her sleep that night was filled with dreams of being raped. She awoke shortly after midnight with a soppingly wet cunt, and decided to go down to the park and masturbate. Maybe it would please Morhal.
But there was no voice, even after she orgasmed, and she went back home with her anxiety continuing to grow.
When she woke the next morning there was a message on her phone. It was from her boss. It said, “Why did you send me that topless photo?”
She intended to reply that it was an accident. But as she watched his horror, her fingers instead spelled out, “Because I want you to rape me.”
She pushed “send”.
She started to cry. Morhal was going to ruin her life, unless she did what he wanted. She cursed herself for being a slut in the first place, for falling asleep in his park, for masturbating when he told her to. She had only given him power – power to control her, to humiliate her – and now she was trapped.
She dressed, as best as she was able, and went to the park. It was early, and the park was empty. She raised her skirt to her waist, sat in the swing, spread her legs, and began to swing back and forth.
She was aware her pussy was getting wet as she sat. Despite everything, it was erotic to bare her cunt in public. She actually kind of wanted to masturbate right now. But she had to wait until she was seen.
It didn’t take long. It was the same early-morning jogger who had seen her before. He stopped, and stared at her bare pussy. And when he did, Sandra looked him in the eye, lowered her hand to her cunt, and began to rub her clit.
He watched her masturbate, saying nothing, until she found her climax – and it didn’t take long. The exposure, and the humiliation of being watched, pushed her over the edge quickly.
Then he approached her, and said, “That was a nice show. You’ve made me very hard. Any chance you’d like to take care of the problem you’ve created?”
She wanted to say no – but instead she said, “Absolutely” – and then opened her mouth suggestively.
This was Morhal’s curse for her disobedience yesterday, the same curse that had made her text her boss that she wanted to be raped. She couldn’t discourage sexual interest in her.
The man took out his cock and pushed it into Sandra’s mouth. With no other options, Sandra sucked on it submissively, and when the man came inside her, she felt a buzz through her whole body, and Morhal’s voice spoke.
“Each time you debase yourself here, each time you fulfill your natural purpose as a cum-toilet for men, my power grows,” Morhal said. “Invite the man to return at this time tomorrow, and rape you. Tell him you will struggle and cry but that you don’t want him to stop.”
“Nooo…” Sandra tried to moan, around her mouthful of cock, but only made an incoherent sound. She swallowed the cum in her mouth and pulled away from the man’s dick.
“Yes,” said Morhal, “or you will find your intelligence beginning to melt away, until you are nothing but the cow you were meant to be. Serve me obediently, and I will let you keep your mind. Disobey me, and you will lose it.”
Sandra looked up at the man. “Would you like to come back tomorrow at this time and use my pussy?” she asked him. “I like it rough. I might struggle and cry, but I want you to force me.”
The man looked down at her. “Absolutely,” he said, smiling.
Sandra spent the morning at work thinking about how tomorrow she would be raped for the first time – but as it turned out, she was raped twice on that very day. First her boss called her into his office, stuffed a sock in her mouth, bent her over his desk, and raped her pussy. She remembered that she was no longer on contraceptives, and went wild as he ejaculated into her womb, bucking and moaning, but he held her down and gave her no options.
Then, after work, two co-workers cornered her in the car park. They asked her whether she would like a “good time”, and, compelled by her curse, she replied, “Only if a good time means you two raping me next to the dumpsters behind the building.”
It turned out that that was exactly what a good time meant. Both of them came in her pussy, and Sandra reflected that if she got pregnant, she wouldn’t even know which of several rapists was the father.
And it occurred to her that this was the “luck befitting of her gender” that Morhal had promised her. In Morhal’s view, a girl should consider herself lucky if men used her as a rape-toy – and for as long as she served Morhal, Sandra was going to be very lucky indeed.
Morhal was Sandra’s god now, but it turned out Morhal could be a merciful god instead of a cruel one. When she arrived the next morning to be raped by the anonymous jogger, Morhal spoke in her mind.
“Good bitch,” it said. “My power rises. Your rape will cement my foothold on this world. In return, I give you a gift – the ability to enjoy rape. You will feel every humiliation, every degradation, and they will shame and hurt you – but they will also make your pussy wetter, and your orgasms more powerful.”
And Morhal spoke the truth. When the jogger arrived, he took Sandra completely at her word from yesterday. He slapped her across the face, and pulled off her dress, and pushed her to the ground, and was not at all bothered by her protests and feeble struggles. He shoved his cock into her cunt and continued squeezing and slapping her tits as he raped her.
And Sandra orgasmed again, and again, and again, until she could barely think. And each time she felt the buzzing power of Morhal course through her, as she sanctified his holy ground with her rape. She felt his power grow, like an invisible iron grip on her pussy, and a firm shackle and leash around her neck.
When it was done, and the jogger left her lying in the dirt, nude, cum dripping from her pussy, Sandra heard Morhal speak again.
“It is time I had more priestesses,” said Morhal. “Tomorrow, you will cause another girl to be raped her. Whether her rapist is you, or some man, I care not. Ensure that she does not consent. Ensure that she is exposed naked to the daylight. Ensure that someone uses her to orgasm.”
For the last time ever, Sandra thought about disobeying. She thought about saying no.
But she had been too much of a slut, and she had given Morhal too much energy. She thought he could do what he said – just turn off her brain and make her a mindless sex-cow. She thought he could also pull her back to this park by an invisible leash, whether she wanted to go or not. She was his slave now, and there was no escape.
And besides – being raped had been terrible, humiliating, and traumatic – but it had also given her the most powerful orgasms of her life. She couldn’t deny that she wanted to feel that again – and again, and again. Morhal could make those who served him very, very happy.
She thought about who might be easy to get raped here in this park. Co-workers? Friends?
The morning was growing later, and now several people were walking by. They stopped to stare at her naked body in equal parts lust and disgust.
Sandra knew better than to closer her legs or cover her body. Instead, she reached down with one hand and began to masturbate her rapist’s sperm up into her womb. And with the other, she took her phone, and dialled her sister’s number.
“Hi, sis?” she said, trying not to audibly moan as her fingers explored her cunt. “I don’t suppose you’re interested in coming on a picnic at my local park tomorrow?”
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3 thoughts on “Story: The Demon of the Park”
Now, /that’s sex magick! Also, another absolutely exquisite illustration.
Glad you enjoyed this one – I had fun writing it…