Johnny Dahmer the Bella Morte Anthology
A Peak at Johnny Dahmer’s Naughty Bits
(and a never-before-seen erotic short)
“The Devil Went Down” is now available in Hot Ink’s erotic anthology, “Bella Morte”, and, with it, the beginning of what’s going to be a series of kinky exploits by a pair of demon siblings with one simplified mission:
I’ve long-since been fascinated with legends of incubi and succubi (vampire-like demons who seduce and fuck humans to steal their sexual vitality) because, as a horny and twisted teen, a being who’s life—not just their job or their hobby, but their LIFE—depended on fucking. As you can imagine, the concept was nothing short of a wet dream-come-true.
So when my pals at Hot Ink asked if I’d be interested in being a part of Bella Morte, I saw it as a perfect chance to get in touch with my pubescent perversions to life. Though their exploits are, on the surface (and on the sheets), purely for titillation, the need to acquire more and more energy from human partners takes their motives to a new level. Furthermore, because they’re demons, the possibilities for otherwise physically-impossible exploits are limitless.
In the early stages, the idea of a sexually-liberated succubus on Earth was an intriguing approach to a mindset I, personally, hadn’t encountered in both reading and my personal writing. For this reason, I wanted to see how the character of the sister would interact in an inherently non-sexual situation (in this case, a coffee shop). While this was only an “experiment” to play with the character and her “methods”, it IS a story that has, as of now, been unseen by the public and, given the circumstances, one that I feel deserves to be (pardon the pun) exposed:
The Devil Wears Red
Johnathan (Johnny) Dahmer
The old brass bell hanging over the faded oak door to the café sang as She entered. Almost instantly the men, moments earlier caught in the throes of conversation and early-morning business preparations, abandoned their mundane activities to follow an unknown urge to set eyes on Her. Behind the counter, the cashier dropped a handful of change that he'd been passing to a customer and the barista, momentarily distracted from the cappuccino machine, jumped as a hot jet of steam erupted from the milk-foamer.
She smiled at the reaction; soaking in the sweet attention like a sultry sunbather. This is what She'd come for--traveled so far for--and those first moments, holding the attention of the patrons without even crossing the threshold, made it all worthwhile.
She'd chosen red hair for the occasion; a fierce and coppery mane that fell over Her shoulders and curled only slightly. Just enough to get the desired bounce as She moved. And bounce it did. Just like the massive, twin mounds--a pair of tits that She'd custom tailored to elicit the perfect response--that seemed to fight for a chance to spill over the top of Her strapless red skirt as She took her first step inside.
The lust surrounding tans seemed to be getting old, and She had taken advantage of this foresight by choosing a creamier skin-tone with just enough shade to highlight her ample curves. This, it appeared, was a good decision on Her part. As She continued through the café, the men shifted uncomfortably in their seats--bringing a leg up over their knee or subtly adjusting their pants--as She strolled by them. One man, an older gentleman in an expensive suit, slipped off his coat and tried not to make a show of draping it over his lap.
She chuckled and pursed Her lips at him, letting out a gentle purr as She strolled by.
Her movements were cold and calculated, but their response was hot and chaotic. Making Her way to the counter, She couldn't help but smirk at the collective groans as Her admirers caught sight of Her from behind. She had planned it all out so beautifully, and as their gazes fell on her ass, where the tight curvature of the two peach-like orbs created a lewd display against the taut fabric of Her skirt. She wore no pantie and had been sure to hike up the hemline to expose the pair of arches that peeked out from underneath. As She came to stop at the end of the small line of waiting customers, She parted her knees just enough to allow the lips of her cunt to come into view to the lucky few who were at the right angle.
She stifled a cackle as a teenage boy groaned and shivered in his seat; Her sensitive nostrils instantly picking up on the scent of freshly spilled jizz.
"Waste not, want not." She chided, not bothering to turn her head to face him as he rocketed from his seat and hurried out the door, his shame fueling his retreat.
The scorn of the most of the women was just as delicious. Her wanton display was clearly an assault on their attempt to appear pure and virginal, but She could see clearly that not a single pussy in that room had not been ravaged. Their secrets--their shame--were Hers to flip through like the crusted pages of a well-used porno mag.
Fingers. Fists. Dildos of all shapes and colors. Vegetables. Liquor bottles. And even a...
She arched an eyebrow at this and shifted Her green-eyed gaze to a shy-looking girl, no older than 20, who hid beneath a brown wool sweater and baggy pants.
"A Lava Lamp?" She smirked, exposing Her perfectly-built teeth.
The girl turned as red as Her skirt and began scooping her belongings into her bag to leave.
She turned back towards the counter to discover that the line had dispersed. Smirking, She stepped up and leaned forward over the counter, giving the patrons behind Her the perfect view of both Her holes; the gem from her clit piercing catching the light and shimmering. Unable to see the splendor on the other side, She showed mercy on the cashier, whose eyes went wide as Her left nipple finally earned its freedom and the puckered pink flesh adorned with a glimmering ring leapt into view. As his face reddened, a sharp inhale caught in his throat and he began a coughing fit; She made no move to conceal herself on either end.
Behind her, the men continued to grow restless. She could sense their arousal--hear their heartbeats race to send the blood to their swelling cocks--and She wetted her lips at the promise of their payload. So many dicks throbbing and aching for her depths.
Oh yes! The trip had been worth it!
"Venti latte" She whispered to the young man when he'd regained himself. Her low voice forced him to close the distance between them--close the distance between him and the puckered tit that still taunted him--to get her order. "Six pumps each of vanilla and hazelnut and six shots."
"I-is that g-g-going to be..." the cashier trailed off as She absently tugged at her nipple ring between two crimson-painted fingers.
She continued for a moment, gazing down at Her own activity before finally returning Her eyes to the cashier. "Hmm. Oh yes: can you make it extra hot? And I want lots of foam!" She gave the ring one more tug before finally tucking Herself back into Her top. "Can you do that?" The cashier only stammered as she produced a ten-dollar bill and slid it slowly across the counter to his end. "Keep the change, tiger."
As She stepped away from the cashier and started towards the counter to await her coffee She turned her head to take in the effects of her titillating display. There were eight men in total; three that were seated with angry-looking women--two of which wearing wedding bands. She further scanned the room: five women--two by themselves, one wearing the same lustful gaze as the men. She paused and smiled at this one. Oh how She loved lesbians! Just as potent as men but all-the-more wild.
Best of all, there was no limitations. No rapid deflation of purpose after a climax and no need to "recharge". No. Women were the fucking Energizer Batteries of playthings.
But she did miss the cum.
Something in at its core--past the salty-sweet tang and the delightful warmth and texture--was an essence that was unmatched. Though it was unfortunate that they dried up so quickly, the sacrifice was easily remedied by greater numbers. After all, one was never enough.
The men continued to shift as their growing erections presented a greater deal of discomfort. She giggled at this, the throbbing bulges in their crotches fighting like heaving prisoners struggling to be free of their denim cells.
"Y-your latte, ma'am."
She turned Her head, letting her mane bob to one side and graze Her left cheek as She met the barista's awestruck gaze. Slowly, methodically, she wrapped her fingers--one-by-one--around the paper cup and purred at the warmth against her palm.
"Mmm! You did make it hot, didn't you?" She winked at the barista as his knees buckled, "Let's just hope you didn't skimp me on the foam." With that, she popped the plastic lid from the cup, allowing some of its contents to spill over the rim and trickle down the sides and over her hand. She made no move to escape the heat; gave no sign of pain or discomfort. Rather, She let out a breathy moan, gazing at the coffee as it trickled over Her fingers. "Oh yes. So hot!"
The barista stared at the scalding beverage that was pooled in Her grip. "Are... are you alright? Do you need a napkin?"
"Hmm?" She looked up at him, Her eyes glassing over with Her own arousal. She loved the heat. Lived for the burn. She let out another moan and shook her head, "No. I like it all over me."
She turned halfway, allowing both the seated patrons and the employees to see as She brought her order to her scarlet lips and let Her nimble tongue--decorated with a pair of blood-red barbell ends--slide out and gather a wad of steamed milk from the top of Her drink. Cupping Her reward for all to see, She made a show of rolling Her tongue around the dripping substance and slowly gulping it down.
This sealed the deal. The eroticism in the room boiled over and She giggled again as She took in the eight men and one woman that would be Her entertainment.
"Come!" She instructed her audience, "You're all in for one hell of a night!"