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The Devil Inside

The Devil Inside

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Published by Lola Swain
My Daddy is the Devil.

Not metaphorically; he really is the Devil.

He fucked my mother eighteen years ago in the alley behind her apartment building in Greenwich Village. I’ll tell you a secret: unlike the books you read about a red man with cloven hooves and horns jutting from his head, the truth is, he looks like a man; a man who you would fuck. He is not a ghoul, he is Lucien Trucido.

My mother wanted him from the moment she saw him and he took her. He took her behind that building, ripped her dress from her body, turned her around and pressed her tits up against the frigid stone. He fucked her from behind, ramming his huge cock in and out of her cunt until he almost split her in two. He whispered a poem into her ear, a poem she never heard before which burrowed into her brain like a rhythmic song. She died with that poem on her lips.

He squirted his seed up her pussy and it plunged into her selected egg immediately. Not until his big fat cock released itself from her pussy almost ten minutes later, did he pull out of her. He flipped her around to face him, pressed his body into hers and spoke:

“You will bear our daughter. She will be wicked and will have no use for you. You will name her Lyric and she will be as evil and as beautiful as a rhythmic song that burrows into the brains of men and women unmercifully. I will come for her after the sixth month of her sixth year and when we are ready, you will hang yourself from the highest beam of your home.”
My Daddy is the Devil.

Not metaphorically; he really is the Devil.

He fucked my mother eighteen years ago in the alley behind her apartment building in Greenwich Village. I’ll tell you a secret: unlike the books you read about a red man with cloven hooves and horns jutting from his head, the truth is, he looks like a man; a man who you would fuck. He is not a ghoul, he is Lucien Trucido.

My mother wanted him from the moment she saw him and he took her. He took her behind that building, ripped her dress from her body, turned her around and pressed her tits up against the frigid stone. He fucked her from behind, ramming his huge cock in and out of her cunt until he almost split her in two. He whispered a poem into her ear, a poem she never heard before which burrowed into her brain like a rhythmic song. She died with that poem on her lips.

He squirted his seed up her pussy and it plunged into her selected egg immediately. Not until his big fat cock released itself from her pussy almost ten minutes later, did he pull out of her. He flipped her around to face him, pressed his body into hers and spoke:

“You will bear our daughter. She will be wicked and will have no use for you. You will name her Lyric and she will be as evil and as beautiful as a rhythmic song that burrows into the brains of men and women unmercifully. I will come for her after the sixth month of her sixth year and when we are ready, you will hang yourself from the highest beam of your home.”

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Published by: Lola Swain on Oct 24, 2011
Copyright:Traditional Copyright: All rights reserved

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04/19/2014

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 The Devil Inside ChroniclesBy Lola Swain
Copyright 2011 Lola Swain and Pulp Friction Publishing
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purelycoincidental. All characters portrayed in this story of hot, taboo sex are eighteen or over.Poem,
The Second Coming
is by William Butler Yeats
This is the first chapter in Lola Swain’s long anticipated release of The Devil Inside
Chronicles, sensual, dreamy stories about Lucien Trucido and his six children.To be updated on the release, special offers, promotions and coupons for the stories,please send an email here.  To read other books by Lola Swain, click here for Amazon, here for All Romance, here for Barnes and Noble or here for Smashwords.
 
 
My Daddy is the Devil.Not metaphorically; he really is the Devil.He fucked my mother eighteen years ago in the alley behind her apartment building inGreenwich Village.
I’ll tell you a secret: u
nlike the books you read about a red man with clovenhooves and horns jutting from his head, the truth is, he looks like a man; a man who you wouldfuck. He is not a ghoul, he is Lucien Trucido.My mother wanted him from the moment she saw him and he took her. He took herbehind that building, ripped her dress from her body, turned her around and pressed her tits upagainst the frigid stone. He fucked her from behind, ramming his huge cock in and out of hercunt until he almost split her in two. He whispered a poem into her ear, a poem she never heardbefore which burrowed into her brain like a rhythmic song. She died with that poem on her lips.He squirted his seed up her pussy and it plunged into her selected egg immediately. Notuntil his big fat cock released itself from her pussy almost ten minutes later, did he pull out of her. He flipped her around to face him, pressed his body into hers and spoke:
“You will bear our daughter. She will be wi
cked and will have no use for you. You willname her Lyric and she will be as evil and as beautiful as a rhythmic song that burrows into thebrains of men and women unmercifully. I will come for her after the sixth month of her sixthyear and when we are ready
, you will hang yourself from the highest beam of your home.”
 He left her standing in that alley, naked, in pain and alone. As he prophesied, she bore menine months to the day he fucked her, named me Lyric and I was wicked and had no use for her.She told me every day that I drove her insane. I learned to feed and clothe myself by the time Iwas two years old. I sat in front of the window of our dilapidated row house every day andwaited for him to come for me.Six years and six months after I was born, Daddy came for me.I sat in front of the window and she sat in her rocking chair staring at the back of my headmumbling about how I drove her insane. How she had such hope for herself six years and sixmonths ago. Before she fucked the Devil and before she bore the wicked child who was as

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