Empire - City of Magic (Black_Out and darkest_fate)

[Black_Out]

For most the supernatural was never easy to explain, or discern. Even when it was all around you. Science often sought to discredit the unknown. If it couldn't be fit into theory and formed into undeniable fact then it was dismissed to rubbish. This suited most people's thoughts on the matter. Even the believers of such mysterious forces often lacked the means to truly gain clarity into these unaccountable energies.

Silently haunting largely forgotten and unrecognizable echoes. Remnants of severity stained an aura upon places, people, and things. Fractured fragments of the past that could still be heard, felt, or tasted, in an unexplained way that might cause ones hair to rise up on end, or send a shivering chill coursing down the length of a spine. Such marked places could be found in any corner of the globe, though most never realized the subtle clues of their existence even when they stood among-st them. Dim memories lived on in an ethereal state. Hidden hallmarks of vulgar transgressions and lucid elation's that spoke into the endless void of the tragedies and triumphs that time just could not simply sweep away. Empire City had more then it's fair share of such latent foundations of untapped spiritual wells. Very few shed light and warmth, in the criss-crossed streets and the shadows of the looming buildings of the great metropolis darkness and horror was far more prevalent.

A dilapidated rickety old stone bridge that had fallen into a state of disservice. It passed over an abandoned and dysfunctional set of rusted train tracks that that bore through the graffiti crusted tunnel beneath the old bridge. Trash littered the place blown in by the gusting breezes that swirled and swept the litter of the streets here when the sky was restless. Another form of refuse could be found here, in the shape of desperate men and women that sought sanctuary from society's burdens. Addicts and vagabonds took shelter in the shadows offered and comfort in the relative silence of the blotted out city surrounding the sunken refuge.

If they could of heard the screams, the howls of horror that had drowned this place in such negative energies. If they would of realized what terrible violations had occurred within the lightless tunnel, they might of taken shelter elsewhere. Even so the goosebumps that riddled the skin, the sensation of dread that lingered, had driven the clear headed to herd elsewhere. Those whose minds were to far foggy and polluted found the extra solitude here to be hospitable, comfortable, and welcoming. Thrill seekers of the dark and macabre came and went over the years since to explore the call of it's gruesome history. They knew of the stories of the tunnels tragic past, of the atrocities that had unfolded there, and the rumor of the haunting that lingered on.

Decades back when the bridge had first fallen out of service, over the course of a long lost summer's breadth, while the secret of the tunnels tranquility was relatively undiscovered, abominations of humanity's flaws bloomed here. Strings of disappearances and the gruesome remains of the young women that had up and vanished without a trace would come to be discovered in an all but forgotten storage room found beyond a rusted old metal door within the tunnels heart. Savage and unspeakable acts had long ago bled into the very surrounds and left the land tainted from the tragedy of the rape and murder of so many. The richest stain of all belonged to the perpetrator of these foul and loathsome deprivations of humanity when his life was ended by a vigilante, and the string of terror ended in more bloodshed.

His twisted soul had taken root and overwhelmed the vestige energies of those victims that still could not find escape from the swallowing mire of his presence. He and those he kept with him here remained in the very essence of the stone blocks. They festered in the patches of dirt and rubble. Suffused the choking stale air of the hidden room and permeated out into it's surrounds. It was all but untapped and ripe. Until recently, when the mysterious men and women, bearing horn adorned masks of frightful animalistic and beastly composition descended upon the place one moonless night. The sparse occupants left them to their deeds and dispersed without provocation, so unnerving was their intrusive silent visitation.

In the epicenter of that ebony dark and cloudy night they called to gruesome and ancient monoliths of powers from threads of the past. Vile chants were carried aloft by the wind and those sinister words were heard by those who first spoke them long ago. Archaic sigils were carefully forged over the chaotic jumble scrawling's that defaced the tunnels walls. A timeless force of sin and desire answered the summons at the behest of something far greater then itself. It came to take sustenance from the undrunk feast of carnal delights that remained here.

By the time the dawn had cut away the night and showered the city with it's illuminating warmth, the enigmatic Cult of Horns had dissipated back into the ranks of society within which they hid. Their markings of ceremonial summons though were left behind, camouflaged within the graffiti strewn walls. Hearkening to that ancient force, merging the presence with the dark deeds of the tunnels not so distant past. When those that favored the tunnels shelter returned, few choose to remain for long. Those whose hearts were already dark, or minds were twisted about with madness remained, kept company by the indiscernible presence of the hidden beast that dominated even this places grim history and guarded over it's purpose.

 

[darkest_fate]

Why didn't we move? It was a question that Zatanna Zatara had asked her father for years as they lived in Empire City, a city once so grand and majestic in some far flung past that outdated all its mortal residences. Why here? Why not go somewhere else? Somewhere... brighter... better. The young, or, well, younger Zatanna had questioned that herself, living under her magician father, watching as he worked with various superhero organizations to try and restore crime and order. Their family had that mystic spark, that ability to tap into the arcane forces that secretly drove this world. And it was because of that ability that they often stated. The city needed a Zatara present, it needed someone to watch the arcane pathways and trace the magics and simply to keep the city save.

Because it's our home. Had also so frequently been the answer. Apparently the family had lived in this cesspool long enough that the roots went deep. Zatanna was fairly certain there were other reasons, reasons that she didn't want to think about. Like what happened to her mother. Or how her father had so many nemeses here. Thoughts like that which made her smile, even now.

Magic had wrapped her presence; edih em morf gniyrp seye, having been one of the first spells that Zatanna had mastered. Slight shame, since she knew she looked good. Tight black jeans hung low enough on her hips to just start showing hipbones. A loose black belt with silver studs hung around her, more for apparent decoration (though she'd learned that having a few potential tricks on hand never hurt; hence the chain she'd looped around a belt loop). A span of lightly defined abs showed before a white corset-style crop-top. Long fishnet gloves covered most of her arms, leaving her fingers free to work. The deep raven hair had been swept back from her sharp blue eyes, kept in place by a simple headband. A loose dark coat hung over it all, holding off the worst of Empire's shitty weather. The girl had mastered several spells that would all be useful in weaponizing much of her outfit, her lips practically moving in practice for them.

Her first real mission. She'd hit eighteen barely a week ago, that age of maturity, the age where she was "allowed" to go out on her own and start policing the streets. As with so many, she'd "side-kicked" first, going with her father, Giovanni Zatara. And she'd been really fucking good at it: quicker at improvising spells than her father, though he argued she tended toward flashy and a little slapdash. She didn't disagree: she just thought that worked best, particularly when dealing with these sorts. and she'd heard about this for some time. There were several sites she suspected, but this one had the most.... unusual circumstances around it. Too much dark buildup, too many missing people. Her father thought it slightly beneath his notice, which just made Zatanna all the more determined to prove him otherwise.

"Wohs em taht hcihw si neddih," she whispered, summoning just a hint of magic. Her eyes flashed with arcane purpose, letting her begin tracing markings. The cult had left their trail upon the walls of the tunnel through which Zatanna walked. She stepped carefully, angling her heeled boots so as to not disturb or fall. She could see their hints, their signs, and she was beginning to discern their purpose. But she couldn't quite shake a feeling that surely they wouldn't leave such an area unguarded. That would just give her proof... but where is it?

 

[Black_Out]

Barely any of the suns residual light found its way down beneath the cover provided by the crumbling arched roof of the tunnel. The wind wormed it's way through the shadows while Zatanna settled her attentions upon her arcane efforts. It howled unnaturally when a particularly strong gust swept across the ridges of stone and piles of debris. The noise left traces of moans and other unintelligible murmurings that fooled the ear into making them real to the mind. She wasn't alone, of course, and amidst the deception of relative silence she could hear the stirrings of the limited number of occupants that existed in the dark refuge of this place.

The flare of a lighter being flicked and the glimmering yellow flame that wisped into existence within moments of her spells utterance shed it's subtle wavering glow about her surrounds. The lighter tilted within the grasping ragged finger-less mitten that held it towards the wick of a large red candle that was mostly spent. Another hand held a crooked spoon over the newly formed flame that rose up form the candles sloped center and a dark poisonous liquid bubbled in the meager cauldron of the spoon. As a syringe, no doubt contaminated with repeated use drank up the foul narcotic substance the flame twisted and the light it offered shifted with the guidance of the wind, illuminating the one preparing to indulge in the addictive concoction.

In the peripheral of the figure illuminated by the disjointed light, the shadows danced and swirled revealing the specter of a face, half lit in a chiaroscuro fashion. It seemed to stare into Zatanna's core, the expression one of chiseled ever present dread. But before those blue eyes of the young magician could adjust and refocus upon the image revealed to the side of the hunched over squatter who sat with his back pressed against the wall, it was gone. It's shape lost back to shadow, perhaps never really there in the first place.

The candle hissed as the breeze bore past it, and as it was hushed upon it's extinguishment a mote flitted through the air across the breadth of the tunnels width. It drew the eye with it, drawing the compliant sighs of the addict as the needle sunk into his veins back into the relative obscurity of the dark. That small sparkling flicker of orange ember drifted past Zatanna and weaved it's way through the air past her and into a corridor that was partially collapsed. Like a lazy and stubborn floating bit of cinder it wafted out of sight beyond the concealing wreckage that hindered entrance further past what was once a doorway. The dim pulsing glow remained, fading to a deeper red that made what little of the tunnels walls that could be view beyond seem like a passage into hell.

Her eyes attuned by magic took notice of another denizen of the tunnels meager expanse. Had she her choice in the matter, she might of opted to not be able to view the perversion of the disgusting man that peered intently at her. His soft grunts, exhaled gasps were wrought by the hidden gestures of his hand that was stuffed beneath his ill fitting trousers. Vacant eyes from his pock marked face stared almost through her while his cracked and perforated lips spilled drool down the mismatching layers of soiled and stained shirts that clothed his chest.

The snapping sound of the lighter jolted above the mans eager-less and estranged sounding ministrations, her sight lost for a brief moment as it adjusted back into focus. Her brilliant blue eyes saw the man with the needle looking directly towards her with his arm raised and extended forward, pointing with his gaunt index finger towards the dark outline of the rubble strewn hallway. With her attentions absorbed by the gesture of the addict, the sounds of the vulgarity of the other vagrant shifted. Muffled noises that had the pitch of a panicked woman emerged in their place and seemed to issue from the hallway where the orange ebbing light faded away into the blackness and the ghostly muffled noises returned to the normalcy of the masturbating miscreant.

 

[darkest_fate]

Ugh, it stunk in here. Zatanna wrinkled her nose, momentarily considering a spell to diminish the odors that assailed her. But she, sadly, recognized many of them: drugs, body odor, desperation, they all mixed together to create a perfume that almost matched this part of the city. Her eyes flicked, seeing that man standing there, clearly lost to the world... only not quite. she folloed his gaze, seeing the shape, seeing the being there. That strange shape.

Ugh, is he... is he doing that here? as if Zatanna's nose could wrinkle any further. She really wished that her sight hadn't revealed that second man. Ugh, she was quite glad that she wasn't visible. Of course, Zatanna knew that her body inspired... those sort of feelings, and that she sometimes dressed to accentuate what she had. Sure, the tight pants were mostly for mobility and durability, but most heroines would be lying if they didn't at least partially admit to having some of their sexuality in there. Not that Zatanna was overflowing with sexual knowledge: being a "freaky witch" meant most high school boys weren't interested no matter how good your ass looked in jeans. And even if they were, having a dad that could literally hex you made most of them stop short of doing anything fun (sometimes leaving a quite frustrated Zatanna in their wake. let's just say that she'd mastered dnaw etarbiv way faster than she should've needed to).

the distraction almost drew her attention totally away from her goal. For a moment, she almost wondered if these men hadn't been wasted by whatever. It might have helped; drawn them here. Or it could be the opposite: their presence and the presence of those like them made the energies here gather and grow all the more. Regardless, the whole motion and noise drew Zatanna's attention away from thought and toward the situation. She saw the gesture, and for a moment, almost thought that he'd seen through her. Sometimes drugs did that to people, particularly if they were already close to having the Sight.

But no, it was behind her. She twisted, seeing flickers of orange and, more importantly, hearing sounds of distress. Fuck. I need to check that out. Zatanna quickly dashed, high-heeled boots thudding against the cement below, stealth forsaken in favor of haste. She drew a wand out of her pocket: not that she needed the prop, but having it sometimes worked wonders. It was all part of the whole costume thing: look the part of a magician, use the tools, and people were more willing to go along with it. Plus it amused Zatanna, and that was almost enough on its own. She darted forward, mumbling a spell under her breath: "Ecart eht dnous," flicking her wand to send a tracer out. It would help get her there quicker, and she definitely wanted haste, particularly if someone was in danger.

 

[Black_Out]

Her black leather boots tramped across the unhinged green metal door that was buried beneath dirt and debris before the rubble strewn entrance of the hallway. It was an awkward effort to clamber around the wreckage that had given way from the ceiling and obscured entry into the narrow tunnel beyond. The muffled pleas had drawn quiet, leaving Zatanna to hear only the thudding slaps of the mans hand busily attending to his wanton needs. His bleary eyes stared forward without a hint of notice given towards her invisible yet hasty and noisy efforts to gain entry into the pitch darkness of the hallway.

Fortunately she was lithe and limber, and the young magicians body found it easier to slip through the void in the rubble, until she tumbled down the other side as the loose rocks shifted beneath her and she was deposited on her rear within the darkness. Her sight though pierced the veil of ever present shadow and saw that the tunnel was short in length. A room opened up, devoid of any remnants that might of hinted to it's past purpose, but staring back upon her from the center of the wall furthest into the room was all she needed to see to confirm her every suspicion that the mysterious cult had been at work here.

The circular shape of a field of black had been painted upon the center of the wall, while a pair of stark white horns rose up from the middle of that abysmal pit and curled outwards above it. The mark of the Cult of Horns dominated the other precise sharp sigils that curled in ancient patterns of magical power around the walls. At a glance the sense of their purpose seemed to be to anchor, tether, and nurture the malignant energies that resided here. Way lines covered the decaying roof of stone supported by heavy wooden slats that were obviously well beyond strained by the efforts to keep it all from crashing down.

An array of unlit candles littered the floor, much like the dark red one she witnessed in the possession of the drug addict out in the tunnel. Though it didn't take long for her to realize they were precisely placed upon the tips and intersections of crimson hued lines that drew a pentagram across the floor. The candles all jumped to life, bleeding weary light out that quickly lost it's potency the further it shed from it's source. She could see figures, huddled in the shadows that existed on the fringe of the candle light. Womanly forms, cuffed together wrists drawn behind their bared backs. Their dusky skin was littered with bruises, their ankles shackled and chained to the floor and the dirty tangles of their hair hid their beleaguered faces from view.

That's when a force erupted from behind her, shoved her in the square of her back and drove her to her knees towards one of the corners. The face of that paled skin victim turned to regard her, and it was obvious to Zatanna in that moment that it was the specter of some unfortunate soul that had perished here under duress. Her jawline stretched so wide open that it gave the illusion that her face was melting towards the floor as her ghastly moan issued towards the raven haired young heroine that had been shoved to land beside her. Her bleach white hair whipped wildly about within the windless room as her ashen eyes locked onto Zatanna's and she could feel the presence of the specter before her trying to seep into her consciousness.

Brief images danced and flashed through the surface of the heroines thoughts, giving her sight into the events that led to the demise of this trapped spirit. Except in the visions that blurred into her mind, it was Zatanna who was the victim of these horrid acts. Kidnapped by ambush while walking alone upon a dark path. Forced to breath in some noxious fume that sedated her body. Taken here, to this room, and chained, gagged, bound, all before being violated by a figure she could only discern as darkness incarnate.

 

[darkest_fate]

Despite all that was happening, some part of Zatanna couldn't help but be... thrilled. This was exactly what she trained for, what she lived for on some level. Running through the darkness of the city, wand up and at the ready, heart pounding, mind running through dozens of spells. Her enhanced senses kept her mostly abreast of what happened, almost subconsciously marking turns and twists and the path in general. The young magician mumbled a few potential counter-curses under her breath, wanting to provide herself some protection. Without full focus, and at full movement, none of them would be all that effective, but they would be better than running in with sexy jeans and a corset-top.

The shifting rubble caught Zatanna. She managed to fling up her arms: "Tcetrop em!" being another necessary spell. Mystical energies kept her from receiving too much damage, but she still found herself slightly winded, and flat on her ass, staring at a room. "Well, this is suitably creepy," she mumbled, blowing a loose strand of raven hair from an enchanted eye. She rose slowly, still keeping her wand out, looking around. "Okay, so this is obviously the ritual site... you'd think they'd have hid it a bit--" she paused, recognizing the candles, and soon seeing the patterns. Immediately the magician wanted to throw out a counterspell, or at least disrupt the circle. Wors,e she could see the various gathered woman, and could only hope that at least some of them were alive.

"Buncha assholes," the magician mumbled, stepping forward, ready to help. A blow caught her back, and she hit her knees hard. Her mystical protection had barely worked on it, which meant--- yep, specter. Zatanna twisted to see it hovering there, and it wasn't hard to figure out what it was or why it was there. As if she needed further evidence, it provided easy to understand (not) spectral visions. Taking a few deep breaths, Zatanna raised her wand."Dnif ruoy tser ni eht dlrow dnoyeb siht," she breathed, drawing on an old exorcism spell her dad had perfected. It did occur to her, albeit belatedly, that she might have been able to question the spirit, to find out more. But she was still hoping that at least some of the victims about her were living. If not, she could always ask those souls: they were much less likely to be violent.

For now, Zatanna's powerful magical energies stretched out, working to yank the spirit toward its eternal judgement, and hopefully its reward. At the least, it should be pulling the departed soul from the place of its torment. Zatanna did have to focus all her attentions and energies on the spirit in those moments, but it was a matter of focusing on the task ahead of her... for now.

 

[Black_Out]

The dim glow of pin prick red eyes shone in the endless depths of the dark circle painted upon the wall as Zatanna chanted her spell and focused her energies on the task of freeing the haunting spirit. Under normal circumstances the spell her father had perfected would of sent the entrapped spirit onward to it's final calling. These were not such circumstances.

Glyph's drawn upon the wall pronounced their presence as the radiated dark blue light. Marks that were left here by talented hands that sought to counter her magical incantation and keep the spirits of this place securely bound within their repetitive torments. The chains tethered to the specter's ankle stretched taut as the ghostly image of the victimized woman was pulled upwards towards the heavens. But bound as she was to this place by the cult's dark magics she was left to hover there like a kite stuck in the breeze.

But Zatanna was determined, stubbornly so to send the spirit on her way. Despite the hitch in her plan, she could see some of the individual links of that spectral line of chains stretching to their breaking point. Her continued focus would rip the binding cord of chains asunder soon and free the tortured soul that filled the room with her desperate ethereal wails.

With her back towards the rear wall and the mark of the cult that was left there, Zatanna was likely to not notice the unraveling of that mark as the demonic presence hidden within began to reveal itself. The curling white horns that shot upwards from the bleak black perfect circle began to emerge and take substance and form. They were ridged curving bones of white that mimicked a set of rams horns, but the black serpentine face that followed them out of the pit of darkness was that of a sinister looking snake with dim ember red eyes. The rest of it's anaconda like form slithered out and dripped down to the floor in eerie silence just behind Zatanna.

Before Zatanna knew what hit her, the coils of the serpentine demon snapped out around her curving waist and squeezed her in their merciless grasp. If it wasn't for her magical aura of protection that she had called upon, ribs would of likely cracked from the monstrous strain bearing down over her body. Still the pressure was intense, intense enough to expel the breath out of her lungs and choke her words out as the leering serpentine visage of the horned demonic presence swung about before her while it's coils slithered and entwined further around her body.

It's dim foul red slits of eyes found her sparkling vibrant blues and it hissed with glee. "Trespasser, I will show you such wonders and pleasures."

 

[darkest_fate]

Yes! She'd done it! It took all her focus, all her will, all her considerable magical skill, but Zatanna somehow managed to prize free the tendrils of darkness holding the poor soul trapped. The magician felt that relief flooding through her body as she watched her arcane energies do their task. The glorious feeling of having helped someone on a truly important level, helping their very soul filled the young heroine. That relief almost made Zatanna sigh ,and she swore she could almost feel it pouring through her.

For just those moments. Because soon she felt something dark and rough curling about her. a gasp squeezed from the magician as the tightness encircled her. She felt her own magical shield waver, that hastily constructed magical protection barely able to keep up with the sudden, unexpected onslaught. Magic often came down to will, after all. The will of the wielder fought the will of the target, sometimes the will of the universe to get what they needed. And a hastily constructed barrier hardly had will or power behind it.

Crap, this thing looked... demonic. Curled horns, sinewy frame, the whole serpent motive. Just looking at it twisted Zatanna's gut into knots. she hissed through clenched teeth, pushing through that pressure. His comment, his promise, drew a sharp laugh from the teenage superheroine. "Seriously? You're going to, what, get me high?" she quipped, already shifting and gathering energies. "Esaeler em morf eniht psarg, luof gnieb!" she almost hissed, waving energies. It was another older spell, complete with a backward "thine" and everything. Thus tried, thus practiced, thus fairly powerful. Zatanna's magical energies seeped from her body, working to wrest her from the demon's grasp. It definitely would've worked if she hadn't been caught by surprise, wasn't tightly coiled.

It should work even now...

 

[Black_Out]

The serpentine demonic face hovering before her contorted it's expression as the potent energies released by Zatanna's backwards rambling spell worked to loosen it's grasp from about her slender curvy frame. Inch by inch by inch the tubular oval-like shape of the fiends long body began to unwind from it's prey. Bump after ridged bump that ran along the top of its vertebrae's nudged against her skin as the efforts of her spell wrestled the stubbornly clinging demon away from her.

None were more distracting then the space between her legs, where ridged protrusions of its scales ground over the tight fitting fabric hugging the young teenagers sensitive mound. The demon hissed at her, its thin and narrow red tongue flicking about before her face as it stared defiantly back at those focused blue eyes. As she gained more freedom from it's coils and the tide of the struggle swung in her favor Zatanna was able to throw the demonic horned snake across the room with one last great push from her magic. This left the ridges to blur across her pure virgin sex in rapid fashion until the creature was flung back into the shadowy corner of the room.

The embers of its red narrowed eyes and the tint of its long white curving horns stared back towards her as the demon hissed from the darkness. "Such a stubborn lass you are. Take her!" It called out into the room.

The specter of murderous rapist answered the command and from the very floor behind Zatanna his dark hazy shape emerged. A palm of black skin, cold as a winters night worked to slap across her mouth and stifle her voice. An arm slipped around her slender waist in effort to drag her up into the wraiths frigid embrace while his foul breath washed over her shoulders and back. There was no denying the power of this particular presence, or ignoring the hard frozen shape of it's massive manhood that pressed against the firm bubble of her contrastingly warm ass.

 

[darkest_fate]

Excellent! The spell was doing its task. Of course, the only problem with Zatanna's more freeform magic was that it sometimes took whatever path would just work to accomplish the hazy guidelines of the spell. In this case, it seemed to essentially just make holding her impossible for the demon. She'd been hoping for a repelling blast, which often happened when those words left her lips. Or perhaps a quick exit or ejection. But this demonic creature either had more will or Zatanna was still feeling some drain from her previous encounter... or a little of both, because instead she got to feel him unwinding from her.

and the teenager certainly felt it. The sexy magician might not have a wealth of experience to draw upon, but even she could figure rather quickly what the demon intended, particularly after it's whole "show you pleasure" proclamation. Her protective spell had already started unraveling, and it was meant to protect against harm not against sensation. After all, she may need her sense of touch to determine something, or to sooth someone, or even to steady herself. Hell, pain was sometimes necessary as a warning sign, after all. This just meant that she felt him. Felt every little scaled, ridged, textured part as he slid from her, dragging across. Having him rip between her legs was like riding a vibrator for a few long seconds. The magician let out a gasp, feeling her legs buckle for just a moment.

"Oh, I'm sorry, were you expecting me to just spread my legs and beckon?" Zatanna shot back, smirking. She took another breath, already raising her hands, gathering energies for the next spell. "Leef eht thgiew fo ----" she began, chanting a rather impressive spell, particularly when used against demons and others with a lot of ill deeds. the karmic backlash had been known to outright kill or undo certain creatures. But she'd gotten only most of the way through her incantation when something slapped across her mouth. Those pretty blue eyes went wide, the magician not even finishing her chant against the smothering touch, but instead just letting out a cry of surprise and frustration. She soon felt something else sliding across her hips, making her shiver. Such a cold touch, so unnerving.

Oh Magick, is that a dickI? Shot through her mind as she felt something prodding against her bubbled ass (nice and firm from all the usual superheroine heroics; there's a reason why they all looked incredibly hot, and it wasn't just magic or superpowers). Zatanna thrashed, but she wasn't any stronger than any other fit eighteen year old girl. Still, there was a chance she could worm or wiggle or even outright break her way free. Sometimes they underestimated the power in a slender form. And she was already trying to bite or free her mouth. A few seconds would be all she'd need to get out of this, after all.

 

[Black_Out]

Sinister laughter issued from the shadowy corner of the room where the demonic serpent was recovering while Zatanna struggled with the insidious wraith. His every fiber sent unnatural chills coursing through the ripe body of the teenage magician as he manhandled her. The nips and bites at his ice cold fingers filled her mouth with a rotting taste, and despite her efforts the wanton spirit showed no signs of pain. Instead his fingers jammed into her mouth when she was readying herself to clamp down again in an effort to free her speech from being stifled. The other arm about her waist shifted, the forearm dipping down and the frozen gestures of his hand clamped down between her legs.

While she squirmed and thrashed in an effort to gain release the demon snake twirled like a corkscrew rising from the floor until the tip of its rattle laden tail was the only thing contacting the surface beneath it. "Drag her to the center of the pentagram." Its foul spittle flung the demand out towards the murderous spirit engaged with its adversary.

The specter of darkness, known in life as the serial rapist and murder Adam Huegroth obliged the command of the beast. With his hand wedged into the depths of Zatanna's throat and his grasp tightening across the shape of her virgin mound he wrestled her backwards through the room. "Little slip of a girl, you dare to think you have the power to stop us?" The hovering horned visage of the demonic presence swept forward and dipped its angular head down between her legs. Nostrils flared wide above the serpents lips as it took a deep whiffing inhale of the subtle scent between her legs. "So pure, so intoxicatingly pure." It hissed out eagerly as the narrow slits of its coal red burning eyes leveled on Zatannas.

"Just a drop, make her cum, until just a drop of her tainted pleasure seeps onto the floor in the center of the pentagram!" The floating serpent howled out as it began to circle and spin its shape around the struggling pair. "Azh'nek! Tunokc Viagro Indelimontay! Undyvirgun!" It sang out old words of perverse power as its long serpentine body circled around them. As the hand clamped between her legs began to rub with rough demanding strokes that threatened to split her pants wide open Zatanna recognized the spouting words of the demon for what they were. Sex magic.

The twirling encircling demon chanted in repetition as the hideous desires of the wraith smothering her body played its cold fondling grasp across the warmth of her virgin lips. "Azh'nek! Tunokc Viagro Indelimontay! Undyvirgun!.....Azh'nek! Tunokc Viagro Indelimontay! Undyvirgun!"

 

[darkest_fate]

Fuck, a sex spirit. Somehow, Zatanna should've expected something like this. Sex was primal, was deep, was part of the very essence of everything. It proved an extremely powerful catalyst for magic. There was a reason that so many spells suggested virginal blood (and perhaps a reason that Zatanna's father had been rather insistent... beyond his protective nature, of course). She could almost feel that sexual malevolence coming from the wraith now, as it began mauling her flesh. Her legs jammed as tightly closed as she could, wishing that she'd thought to bespell the pants before coming in. Tight black wouldn't do much to protect, even with durable fabric. Worse, because they happened to cling to Zatanna's lush body like a second skin, they didn't exactly leave room for much underneath. She'd worn that thong for aesthetic purposes, to not show a seam, to squeeze her tender body into tight clothing. the strip of deep violet fabric would cup her sex, with its neatly trimmed pubic hairs ruffling above (trimmed with spell magic, of course). Elastic black would border the deep purple, stretching back and diving between two almost perfect cheeks of white. If only she'd thought this might happen, perhaps, perhaps she'd have opted for something that wouldn't be oh so easy to drag across her body.

"Mhffum!" she cried against the spectral force sealing her. She kicked out with her boots, thrashed, dared go limp for a few moments. She could see the demonic being almost vibrating with delight, could feel his pulsing energies filling the room. Even if she didn't, Zatanna knew damn well that you didn't want to be in the center of any pentagram you didn't draw yourself. She howled with frustration, fighting as the being drew her in. She could feel his hand somehow sliding further into her, and she felt herself gagging for a moment, the "hrk" replacing her usual bits of protest.

Though protest soon rose again as a hand pawed her sex. Zatanna snapped her legs together. She let shook her head, before glaring at the demon. Her will remained strong: she knew that would make some difference. She gathered as much of it as she could, trembling with barely suppressed rage and frustration. She needed to save her energy. They'd slip up. Let her mouth free. Give her just enough room to wiggle. Hell, if it came down to it, she should be able to undo any spells or wriggle out of a ritual. But, ugh, having that creature so near her. So dangerously close to her most private area. She snapped her legs up, trying to give him a kick in the face.

His next comment had her almost laughing. Seriously? He seriously thought that somehow this disgusting wraith or a demon was going to get her to cum? Zatanna could barely manage that after a good thirty minutes to an hour of teasing herself. Though.... that didn't generally involved some weird, sexual magic. She tried focusing on the words, figuring that would give her an advantage. FIrst to remember, then to resist the fact that the demon had started all but sawing at her sex like he could wrest an orgasm from her in full force. That chill was seeping in, and the raw friction was getting to her. That sensation of having that tiny thong dragged up and down her sex at a rapid pace was doing things to the magician. She just knew she had to keep focused, to wait, to steel her will... all about that will...

 

[Black_Out]

"Azh'nek! Tunokc Viagro Indelimontay! Undyvirgun!" The fiendish voice spoke out even as its head lurched back away from the flaring kick of Zatannas boot that missed by mere inches. It continued to circle and spin around the pair and call out that incantation over and over, and it dawned on Zatanna Zatara then at that moment what spell was being issued. It was a spell of arousal, a magical aphrodisiac that could make a body turn any sensation into an erotic jolt. So far her will had remained strong, steadfast against the magic threatening to increase her lust and fuel her libido to a fever pitch.

That didn't stop the wraith, its hand was to the point now where she could feel the first button upon the seam of her tight black pants popping loose. The chill reverberated into her flesh, but the warmth of her body and the pumping of her blood kept the numbing sensation from overtaking her. His hand rubbed and stroked between her legs and gained traction and access the moment she let her wild kick go towards the beast. Frigid teeth and rancid breath clogged her nose as the wraith opened its mouth and clamped its teeth down around the raven locks of her hair. It yanked her head back as its hand stuffed her mouth full and pinned her tongue down.

"Azh'nek! Tunokc Viagro Indelimontay! Undyvirgun!" The horned serpent hissed out as its hellfire bristling gaze never wavered from that of Zatanna. In the space between the chants from its long curving lips the demons tongue, thin and long whipped out at her. It struck across her bared tone and taut pale belly, leaving a slimy residue and an angry slender red welt. "Azh'nek! Tunokc Viagro Indelimontay! Undyvirgun!" Another lashing strike fell across her chest and tore the white of her meager top open, revealing the sizable orbs of the teenage wizardly wonder.

"Azh'nek! Tunokc Viagro Indelimontay! Undyvirgun!" The beast knew her will was strong and knew it had to be whittled away as it lashed another distracting strike across her thigh, the strike slicing a tear through the fabric of her tight fitting pants. Most distracting of all though was the feeling of that size-able hard cold rod, now shifting to settle between the plump firm cheeks of her undulating ass as she struggled to break free.

 

[darkest_fate]

Was that... an arousal spell? Zatanna recalled reading it in books, recalled her father mostly laughing it off. Those were the spells of fools, the sort that didn't actually work, written by horny magicians desperate to bend the will. At least... that's what he'd always said. But a demon wouldn't be relying on some sort of false story, and Zatanna was beginning to wonder if her father hadn't hidden some part of the truth from her to stop the over-inquisitive girl from getting in over her head.

A sudden release of tension made her let out a sharp squeal. Those blue eyes widened and glanced down. Yes: the top button had snapped open, showing a little bit more of the fine white stomach. She flexed her muscles there, as if she could somehow will the pants to reseal, or to even crawl up her body. Except that she could barely look, as something pulled. Another cry of protest shot through her muffled lips as she felt her head twisting back. Sharp pain hit the roots of her hair, and she realized the creature was pulling her. It opened her throat, letting its somehow malleable hand slide within her. She could feel it fully pinning her tongue, forcing out another glugging noise from the magician. Bits of drool started to leak from around the edges of gothically painted lips. Zatanna's throat muscles worked, trying to push against him. But her legs were also trying to sort of press together, and she was trying to stay upright and---

SMACK!

Another sharp cry hit against smothered spectral energy as Zatanna jumped. She could feel the heat raising upon her skin, along with that strangely liquid sensation. It almost felt like she'd been lightly burned and applied aloe. But another fell, ripping apart part of her corset, letting some of her admittedly impressive breasts bound free. She tried to shift, but to move from the lash was to let the fingers jerk into her throat... or to let the hand rub harder against her sex. There just was too much to fight against.

SMACK!

"Ehuugh!" Zatanna cried, jerking, thrashing for a moment. That pain hit her, and she felt something prodding against her bottom and she twisted and--and no magician could keep that many plates spinning, at least, not without magic. Particularly not a virginal, teenage magician out on her very first solo mission. She could feel her will starting to drop, could almost feel the demon's spell starting to seep inward. Any defense now would be like closing a gate after the wolf had already entered.

 

[Black_Out]

"Azh'nek! Tunokc Viagro Indelimontay! Undyvirgun!" The crass hissed out call of the demon filled the room and seemed to bounce and echo about until each repeated phrase joined with the other echoes, creating a cacophony of the chant. Even the air, dark with shadow and dim flecks of flickering candle light seemed to shake with magic now. Another stroke of the lashing tongue zipped expertly outward from the demons razor filled maw of fangs. It struck with precision across the silver toned buckle of her black leather belt and snapped it loose.

"Azh'nek! Tunokc Viagro Indelimontay! Undyvirgun!" Another button popped free, and with a forceful sudden yank Zatanna's black pants that were squeezing tight were torn downward past her flaring hips. The clasps of her belt dangled from the straps that kept the studded accessory from falling uselessly to the floor. The sound of a rattling maraca sounded from around the struggling magicians black boots and it was swiftly followed by the stringent sensation of the serpents tail coiling around her ankle and wrestling to drag her right leg out and open her up.

That wintery embrace between her legs grasped the soft tender flesh of her sex and squeezed and pulled on the puffy flesh, wedging the thin purple thong up into the split of her bared ass along with the pink slit of her virgin pussy. "Azh'nek! Tunokc Viagro Indelimontay! Undyvirgun!" The demons red glowing eyes lowered there. "Let me at her!" It called out and the hand lifted away in response, moving up to clasp its shivering embrace over her breasts, yanking the torn fabric of her top further asunder in the process.

The horned snake head opened its narrow maw so wide that its very jaw unhinged. Then it plunged downward, and like a vacuum it sealed around the shape of her sweet mound. She could almost feel the teeth threatening to pierce her flesh if it wasn't for the shielding of her protective magic. But the sensation of its tongue, thin and slick with saliva as it grazed over the succulent shape of her tight warm slit was another matter.

 

[darkest_fate]

Crack! And Zatanna felt her loose belt, already more accessory than tool, release. It barely required any more movement to fall free from her hips, clattering near the floor. and Zatanna soon felt another crack, another release, and knew that her poor pants were quite done. She tried twisting her body again, pulling up her legs, contorting. All the teenager managed to do was demonstrate how remarkably flexible she happened to be, probably due to dancing or, again, her nighttime activities. Worse, the squirming made it all the easier for him to latch his tongue about her ankle. Zatanna's muscles flexed, but she couldn't have resisted that demon force without magic even if she had been fully focusing. All she did was cause her body to ripple, muscles tensing for a few moments.

A squeeze, and Zatanna let out another yelp. Her relaxed guard had let just the start of that aphrodisiac spell seep into her. She felt it now, twisting that cold into a heat. Her internal resistances melted beneath those more recent touches, almost quite literally. The tension spiked as he pulled, dragging that fabric up. Zatanna let out a squeal again, jolting, but this time, she'd felt a sharp stab of pleasure. That joyful sensation had eclipsed the little undercurrent of pain that she knew she should be feeling, her body not quite fully processing, or perhaps the spell not quite fully taking over her form. She could feel her tight lips parting. Could feel the narrow folds sliding about the fabric. Felt that bit pushing against her, rubbing along her pink. A little bit of dewy arousal just hung about her lips. It didn't quite drip, didn't ooze, didn't show melting, but was starting to show the signs that Zatanna wished she could hide; wished she didn't even feel.

Another blast of cold pleasure sudden hit her chest. Freezing touch against bared flesh made two pink nipples stand at full attention. Spell shifted sensation just enough so that the strain the flesh underwent stabbed raw heat and pleasure, eclipsing the slight pain and discomfort she felt at her chest being teased. She felt her top being almost dragged up as a collar, or falling free: she was starting to lose track. Her toes curled in her boots, as if fighting to keep heeled footwear would somehow be useful in the sexual onslaught. Already her pants hung loose, her top was even less of a suggestion, her head had been tilted back.

Then the demon cooed, and Zatanna rolled her eyes down. Her awkward position made it difficult to see, but she could just glimpse it. A sharp cry of protest, and the girl fought, pulled mightily for a few moments, jerked her head. But she felt his too hot maw closing about her tender sex. Supernatural warmth poured over her sex. The girl let out an undulating moan, eyes rolling slightly. Her body shivered as demonic saliva started oozing across her fresh skin. Sensations flared in her lower belly, and for a few seconds, Zatanna forgot that she wasn't supposed to be trying to cum, that this was a demon working her over, that she was a heroine. She just felt that raw pleasure spiking hard, shooting joy into her core, flaring a heat within. The girl shivered, tossing her head, hair whipping about. Her hips jerked, but was she trying to buck him free? To slide his tongue into her virginal sex? Surely---surely the former, right?

 

[Black_Out]

The thin bump riddled tongue slid back and forth like a saw cutting wood, except it was parting the soft pink lips between Zatannas long creamy white legs. It sucked, drank at the building juices as the forked tip of the tongue pressed her sex apart and teased at the edges of her sensitive little clit. Like some master musician the demonic beast worked the sexually naive magicians puffy pink mound like it was an instrument it knew all to well. It coaxed out notes of undeniable pleasure, sent thrilling sensations washing over her writhing body, and hypnotically distracted her mind from the looming threat that her climax would unlock here in the center of the pentagram.

Then of course there was the wraith, a man in life that had violated a dozen women over the course of one summer stretch here in this very dark candle lit room. His hand loosened from her mouth, no longer digging into its depths, allowing the poor young magicians moans of erotic despair to sound fully. It fell down to claim her other breast and joined in the grasping mauling adulation of his other hand over those rounded orbs. Dark fingers laced with chilling negative energy twisted at the perky nubs of her stiff nipples. Fingers sank into the tender flesh, yanked more of her shirt apart, filling the room with the sound of her slim shirts shredding fabric.

But he was aware, aware of the noises coming from her parted purple painted lips. Though her will was being torn down, despite the difficult, neigh near impossible concentration it would take to even utter a simple backwards spell clearly, he paid attention. At the first sign of her even attempting to speak her words of power his hand would return and stuff her mouth anew.

To make matters even more difficult, more impossible for the young sultry magician to handle his crotch bore back for an instant before it plunged forward against the rounded cheeks of her pale ass. The thong, purple and narrow was hardly any measure of protection from the shivering cold hardness of his nether erection. The sloped domed head split the warm clenching cheeks of Zatannas rear and spear headed past to jam against the tight little orifice hidden deep within them. It pressed and punctured against the star shaped ring of muscle that was the only safe guard she had that would keep his firm, thick, and well hung protrusion from entering the depths of her vice tight virgin rear.

 

[darkest_fate]

Even without coursing demonic sex magics pounding in her veins, Zatanna would've had difficulties with what was happening between her legs. Constant wet friction lashed upon her body, driving her interior temperature up more and more. No matter how she squirmed or twisted or undulated, the tongue seemed to find precisely the right place. In fact, that devilish organ seemed to do even better with some of her body's movements, as if learning how she kept shifting. Soon Zatanna was effectively aiding in her own oral assault. Her hips rolled to get away, only to have a tongue flick and tease her trembling clit. Thighs snapped together, only to suddenly have a flattened tongue washing over a wide area. Hips rose to try and move away from what was happening behind, only to almost thrust the tongue inside her quivering interior walls.

Sweet air parted painted lips. "Oooohhhh," came out instead of any spell, the teenage magician shivering as the vocalization of mounting lust simply bubbled up from within her. Her hips kept up the impossible dance while hands started teasing her sensitive nipples. Sheer cold burned them, turned her pink nubs into stiff pinks, all the easier to handle. The sound of her shuffling heeled boots soon found a partner in the shredding of her clothes, backed by sweet little moans and gasps of arousal that she simply could not fight.

Her mind swam, trying to surface amid a sea of rising lust. But the demon and his cruel partner knew her tricks. She soon found her focus too split. For something thick, round, battered a tightened star. Zatanna let out a yelp, jerking forward, accidentally all but impaling herself on a tail. That made her let out a choking noise as the arousal spike hit her tremendously hard. For a few seconds, all of Zatanna's will faded as her body simply worked to try and fight off its impending "small death." The teenager took several gulping breaths, shivering and letting otu a moan. She had to get away from that fucking tongue!

Hips jerked, and apparently the heroine forgot that a thick thing had just been battering against her virgin rear. For she very nearly impaled her snug ass against it. Only tight pressure stopped the cold head from popping inside. Even then, she had effectively just pressed her snug star against him, ass muscles flexing as if the winking hole were giving him a sweet, inviting kiss, quite nearly beckoning him inside her body. The magician's head thrashed ,lips trying to move, but unable to form words. So much of her guard was just vanishing as her fight turned desperately inwards. She just knew she Could. Not. Cum.

 

[Black_Out]

The demonic serpents greedy tongue expertly spread the moistening pink curves of her sex. The textured saliva coated tongue stroked deeper and deeper into Zatanna's quaking pink pussy. The taste of how pure it all was, how unblemished the aroma and nectar's that threatened to sprout from the young magician's flowering sex drove the demonic tongues demanding violation to eclipse anything Zatanna might of experienced in her youthful life.

The spell swirled deeper into her core with every lustful lick that spread her pink apart. It coursed into her blood, merged with her cells and shot into every fiber of her body. All it would take was for one drop, one little tiny wet splat of her pleasure to emerge from between her legs and fall to the floor for the curse to be locked into place. There would be no escaping it, not unless Zatanna Zatara was willing to make a deal. If only her father could see her now, writhing, twisting about in a state of building erotic euphoria while her body was relentlessly ravaged. Maybe, then, he might of regretted not sharing such dark and powerful arts, the nature of their existence, and how to counter and protect oneself from such dominating magics. Maybe, if she had been prepared for this, she would of stood a chance.

She wasn't though. The demon could sense it, taste it in her flesh. There were no wards present, no counters in place to what her body was being forced to endure. His curved fiendish lips twisted into a leering smile that traced across her belly and between her spastic legs while it pressed and prodded its sinful tongues advances deeper into the warm wet of her pink puffy slit. Soon, when she lost control, her fate would be all but sealed. There would be no escaping the changes the curse would wrought through her born anew, awakened nubile flesh.

As if to drill the point home of her impending defeat, of her faltering battle of wills with her demonic foe, the sloped spear head of the cock pressed against the clenching, yet puckering ring of muscles that was beginning to beckon that surging cocks advances inward. The vile wraiths hands clamped around the full breadth of her breasts. Anchored fingers into the compliant shifting mounds of flesh. Pinched and twisted at the ever stiffening nipples that poked like tent poles out from under the clenching fingertips that tortured them. Pulled her body back by their rough grasping claim over her breasts as he sought to bury his scintillatingly cold member into the dark warmth between those bubbled cheeks of pale warm flesh.

 

[darkest_fate]

Something was changing in her. Zatanna could feel it, knew when a spell did its work. Yet if it were just a spell, she wouldn't feel this rising unease, this worry, this slight stab of fear that was soon eclipsed by another, powerful emotion: lust. For the spell was latching onto a quite natural feeling: a teenager's reaction to receiving master level cunnilingus. That tongue would've made a jaded whore scream out in joy within a matter of seconds. That virginal, pure, relatively innocent Zatanna Zatara had lasted this long under its lash spoke to her impressive, super-heroic stores of will.

Lack of experience, lack of preparation, lack of bodily defenses meant that she was too open. Zatanna gasped as she felt it. Her blood began to almost sizzle under her skin. The disgust she'd felt at the cold touch, the revulsion at having a revolting demonic tongue lashing her virginity, the anger at being put into this position, it all began to fade. The tongue simply felt warmer and wetter, teasing against her. The heat it brought pulsed stronger and stronger within the magician. The chill from behind twisted into raw, aching pleasure. More heat. Just more of it. Her blood burned with it. Her sex soon began melting before the tongue. Raw, virginal juices started to gather, trembling along tight, virginal lips. It gathered about them, mixed with saliva. It glazed her upper thighs, drizzled down quivering pale legs. Streams leaked into her tall boots... and a few droplets of her raw want started hitting the pentagram.

"No...' Zatanna breathed, she whimpered as she felt her body trembling. The pleasure was reaching new heights, overwhelming her last stores of will. The magician's head snapped back, raven hair threatening to lash the wraith behind. Painted lips twisted between teeth as Zatanna fought mightily against what was rising within her. The climax had essentially started. She felt it jostling inside her. The magics had hit against her womb, twisted her natural pulses into something akin to an animal's heat. It was her body; Zatanna could feel it, could feel the magic reworking, rewriting her. Skin turned more sensitive. Want blossomed. Blood pounded into key areas. Yet her head thrashed, her body jerked. She could fight this! She had to! It didn't matter that the wet tongue was lathering her drooling sex. It was orgasmic juices, not just the bits of arousal, and no way would she cum from this! It---it felt so good! It was better than anything she'd ever felt before. The magician's chest rose and fall with rapidity, as if she were suddenly hyperventaliting. Her body curled; repressed orgasm building. Oh, the poor teenager didn't realize that it was all too likely that the stronger her climax, the more powerful the magic's hold upon her. If she did, perhaps she'd have encouraged it, came a little, let a small, insignificant climax shudder from her increasingly needy frame. But no, Zatanna fought. She could do this!

Until her anal muscles contorted around something cold. "No, no, no, no, no, no!" chanted Zatanna, head flailing from side to side, body writhing. Finally, much ,much too late: "On, on, on, on, POTS! POTS!" she twisted the words backwards, turning what might have been some sort of childish chant or insanity into her spells. Raw magic did pour from her---as her orgasm rocketed through her body. Girlish juices squirted forth in one little spurt, splattering the demon's face---perhaps getting lower as the poor magician both rocketed through her climax and burst out with a quite impressive display of magical force.

 

[Black_Out]

The glee of the demon couldn't be repressed as the sweet slippery juices of Zatannas climax swept down her legs and stained the pentagram etched floor beneath with her glistening wetness. At that moment, the deed was done, the magic sealed into her flesh and further strengthened by the sheer forcefulness of her own body's betrayal. The duo that had brought about her sexual awakening, had infiltrated her body with their violations were so far focused on drawing her to a heady climax that the spell she wrought sent them flying back into the shadows beyond the glow of the wildly flickering candle lights.

As their forms vanished from sight, lost in the dark boundaries surrounding her, the faint sound of the spell that reverberated and echoed in the background of her panting breaths could be heard one last time before it went silent. "Azh'nek... Tunokc Viagro Indelimontay... Undyvirgun...."

Time seemed to stand still for the young magician as she felt the shackles of that sex magic binding with her body. Locking her in it's undeniable clutches. Research would most certainly be needed for the talented young practitioner of magics to decipher just how screwed she was, but what happened next offered a glimpse of insight into the depth of danger she was in now.

From the pitch black ebony darkness before her those twin little slits of red evil eyes shined upon her. The shape of the demonic serpents grinning maw flickered in the faint fringes of the red candles weak light. The curling ridged wide and sweeping white horns stood out in the black that framed around their intimidating shape. His words, slithering out of his mouth though caused the air that swirled around Zatanna to chill her to the core.

"Begone, never to return to this sanctuary of evil. Your mark makes it so. I shun you from this place, and send you back from whence you came." The pulse of magic rocked her to her core as blinding light warped around her in the center of that unholy marking. She landed, unceremoniously a few feet off the ground and awkwardly found herself deposited with plop of her bared rear upon the dirty soil of the ground just outside the entrance to the underpass of the tunnel.

"Run to tell your father of this, fall to his knees and beg for help. But you know in your heart that he would gladly trade his very soul to rescue yours. So go that route, if you wish to see your father taken from you. This is your curse alone to find your way out of, if you dare, young one." As the softly whispered sinister sound of the demon hissed around Zatanna, the echo of falling rock where the tunnel way into the chamber she had just been expelled from erupted as the passage back in was buried by rock and rubble.

 

[darkest_fate]

Blazing magics burned arousal into Zatanna's flesh, into her very being. She could feel it delving deeper, altering her on a fundamental level, the signs of it showing in energies that wafted from her still quivering, still twitching, still climaxing frame. The poor magician panted as she managed to somehow stay upright on wobbly feet, her sex still drooling arousal down her thighs, her body a mess of wanton debauchery. She didn't have anything to steady herself, could only really sway. And she saw the shape. It chilled her, yes...

..but it also made the sexual magics within her leap. That shape could provide intense pleasures, could feed her body's new craving. Her sex twitched as she saw it, her blood danced as it spoke of potential. She mumbled a quick protective: "Tcetorp em," in her quivering voice, managing the barest bit of magical defense. It proved fruitful, as his expulsion spell didn't overly damage her, even as her firmly rounded, nearly violated ass hit the cold ground outside. The magician sprawled there, panting, chest heaving as she fought to regain full control over herself.

Words helped. She latched, glaring into the dark. "I don't need my father to deal with you, demonic rapist scum," she spat, waving a hand to just send an impressive, but ill aimed jolt of magic toward the tunnel, only to find it blocked by falling rubble. Zatanna lay there panting, soaked thong still pulled about her sex. After a few more moments, she dared reach down. But just putting her fingers near her sex made her gasp. Whimpering, she adjusted her tiny undergarment, but even the slightest movement sent some pleasures through her. Post-orgasmic sensitivity met pulsing spellwork, leaving the motions to drag across her. Still, she oriented ,covered her sex and lay there, panting.

"Ero--erotser ym lamron brag..." she panted. Magic coalesced around her. The corset reknit, pushing against her firm breasts, making her wince. Pants reformed, clinging to legs and ass and body, tucking everything together. Belt fell loosely into place, everything settled. Again, Zatanna had to sit there, gather herself for several minutes. Her body still tingled. There would be research to do. But first, first she had to get to the study, to her father's library. No--no first would be a shower.

A teleportation spell would take the poor magician home. Another would fling her clothes from her form as she stepped, nude, into the shower. Cold water would fight against the pulsing heat, but the girl would still find herself sensitive. The chill reminded her of the wraith's touch, and she found herself arching into the shower, grabbing the wall to brace herself through a tiny orgasm. Magic dried her, and loose clothes aided, and soon she would be looking through books, repeating words as she flicked for answers. She would find out a way, and the next time she met the demons, she would be ready.

Though as her sex wept, she wondered what that readiness would entail.

 

[Black_Out]

In the dimmed soft light of a tucked away windowless conference room a solitary silhouette sat in a plush leather chair before the oval table that was swept with old parchments etched with primal magics. He was secure in his privacy within the confines of his locked down, magically enchanted and protected abode that doubled as a private law firm that specialized in criminal defense. The goat like mask of some fierce beast with spiraling horns that tightly clung to the side of its shape wouldn't of been worn otherwise.

Stacks of information, mainly pertaining to real estate and crime logs were mixed into the archaic jumble of time stained papers sprawled out before the silken black gloves that fitted snug around his hands. Some dated far back into the city's past. Recalled the accounts of serious crimes and the gruesome details of foul events that had occurred throughout Empires history.

He was currently reading over a file that detailed a mass gangster styled execution from the roaring fifties. It's location fit perfectly into the sequence needed to complete the desired end of their workings. The malignant energy that lingered there from the brutal shooting squad that gunned down over a dozen members of their own family that had betrayed their Don were certain to provide the needed latent energy. It would be a perfect fit for their third such venture.

The second had been finished within the past week. In the bowels of some night club they anonymously had rented out for the weekend. No one saw them come or go, in fact the owner had no idea who had even rented the place out. The offer came, the grounds of the arrangement had been established, and when the owner saw the offered amount he didn't hesitate to accept. Sure it was strange, but doing shady dealings was part and parcel in Empire City. If you wanted to make it, you didn't look a gift horse in the mouth and you sure as hell didn't care what their intentions were. Little did the owner know that within that very cellar under his electro thumping popular club dance club was a horrific history.

There wasn't much notice of the brothel that had existed there two centuries ago. But the Cult of Horns had so many methods of discovery at their disposal that it was only matter of time before they traced that plot of lands lineage far enough back to find what they were looking for. Slavery was a thing back then, and fresh off the boats women were brought in from foreign shores for exactly that reason. The brothel, funded by the wealth of a few elite made sure the place was well stocked with exactly the types of women they sought. It didn't help the girls that came to call the whore house their home that one of the men who paid for their acquisition happened to have a taste for whipping girls raw. More then a few passed away from the festering infected he wounds he left them with. That was more then enough for the cult to be satisfied that the location would work.

With the first of two already established, three remained to be finished, and all that was needed to tie it all together was something pure, virginal, and corrupted. The etched sigils and glyphs that had been placed would see that someone of such a fitting quality would be drawn to their call. Little did the cult know that it would be found and answered by a magician of considerable talent.

They would know soon, the soft glow of a red dot that emerged from the wall across from the masked cultist was alerting him the very moment it happened. His eyes focused on the glowing magical signal that appeared around the top central peak of the pentagrams form which had been scrawled carefully across a map of the city hanging from the wall. Beneath his mask the lawyer grinned ear to ear, the conduit had arrived and the demon that waited for her had done its appointed duty.

Faint murmurs of strange incantations fell from the lips of the masked cultist. Fingers drenched in black silk danced and shifted. Powers he knew well were formed and for a moment a visage of the one so chosen appeared, gasping in the center of the pentagram. He knew the face, was aware of the family and their prideful abundantly talented sexy little protege. What a perfect choice his inner thoughts mused, pleased with the outcome.

 

[darkest_fate]

The tomes of information did reward Zatanna's search, though in fits and starts. She kept pouring over them, eyes almost crossing, almost watering, as she read through various rites and rituals. she didn't see an exact match for what the demon had lain upon her, but there were enough descriptors. One in particular sounded... unnervingly close. Worse were the notes upon it. Zatanna found her heard dropping as she kept reading. apparently the magics literally went in to begin rewriting her desires on a very basic level. Her sexuality would become "like that of the most wanton of women, able to reach climax with the barest of touches." Notations indicated that if the recipient of one of these curses happened to be young (check), sexually ripe (check?), and magically inclined (check), then the curse could dig deep. It would "unearth repressed thoughts and ideas to make them reality." Apparently it had also been used to prepare "willing" supplicants for various rituals, training their bodies to be more sexually attuned. There were even notes that indicated that with proper "training," someone under such a spell could have their sexual proclivities altered, so that they might forever find certain shapes or forms or the like attractive.

Surprisingly, that wasn't nearly as disturbing a revelation as the fact that Zatanna's hand had worked its way into her loose, terry cloth shorts and begun stroking herself as she read, to the point where she was very nearly reaching climax as she read about how the very spell placed upon her might make her always aroused by demons. Groaning, the young woman ran her fingers through her hair, laying her face upon the book. How could she have anticipated this? The place had given no indications of that kind of energy or desire or anything of the kind. Plus she'd been told these spells were fucking fake. "Dammit, daddy," mumbled Zatanna, rubbing at her face. "Your stupid quest to keep baby girl pure is ironically gonna make her want to bang demons. Sure hope that's not an issue with my life of fighting supernatural crime."

Having had enough for now, Zatanna allowed herself a fitful sleep. Vague dreams of sensuality assailed her, so that when she woke up, it was with a jerk. The loins of her pajama bottoms were soaked through, with an equal mess upon the sheets below, and her hand still smelled of her own arousal. First a quick cleaning spell, then more curses, as Zatanna went to check on everything else. She'd laid a few sensors across a map of Empire City, designated to look and ping likely locations. Now that she'd confirmed, in the worst possible way, a site, she could recalibrate her previous spell. Yet to her surprise, as she looked at the map, she saw that a location glowed an almost vicious red. Leaning over, Zatanna read the address. From there, it was a quick Google search to find out...

"A sleazy nightclub? Seriously? Like... were all the orgy halls taken or something?" she mumbled, rubbing at her face. Well, as an eighteen year old girl who looked fucking hot and already dressed like a gothic nightclub prowler, Zatanna shouldn't have any trouble getting in. She'd have a few spells prepared on hand as well: something to automatically release if her throat mysteriously got closed shut, blockers to save her sex and ass. Unfortunately she knew damn well that attempting to directly counter the arousal with another spell would be pointless. She'd need to rework the exact wording of the curse, and it was literally setting her up as some part of this ritual, probably trying to loop in her position as a magically charged virgin to fuel it. Which, unfortunately, meant her best bet at undoing any curses would be to follow to the seat of power and mutter a counter that ran exactly opposite. Which meant investigating without getting caught. In a place where people all but literally dry rubbed against people. Just thinking about it made Zatanna shiver, and she bit her lip, trying to think of what she could possibly do to help with that. Deadening sensation could backfire, so could numbing her sex. Maybe if she just put something on as an extra control? Like, she'd get a little jolt if she started grinding her hips or trying to self pleasure. Pavlovian training against masturbation or overexciting herself. Should work. And she can enchant her clothing so it would only come off when the wearer opts to remove it. That extra barrier had almost been enough last time, and she could reinforce it this time. It would still potentially suck on the inside, but she could just get used to... cumming with clothes on?

Yeah, it wasn't a perfect solution, but it was what she was going to work with. Basic slight behavior mod spell; enchant the clothes so only the owner could remove; few command word or gesture based spells to free the throat. Then Zatanna cleaned herself... thoroughly (and nearly orgasmed as she did, but she stopped herself... seemingly not having learned that postponing the inevitable made it worse. She was still a teenage virgin, after all). Add some sultry makeup, squeeze into her usual outfit; tossing on a leather jacket, and she was strutting to the club, looking at least as hot as most of the people there. And her "fake ID" would look realer than most real ones, so she wouldn't have a problem with that... unless her dad found out.

The thought of which just made Zatanna snort as she snuck her way in line, drawing only a bit of attention (and a few comments toward her "tight witchy ass"). Because if dad found out anything about this, the last thing he'd be concerned with was the fake ID.

 

[Black_Out]

Zatanna made her way through the long line outside of the vibrant walls of the clubs exterior until she stood before the black padded doors that were at the precipice of the clubs energetic interior. Her fake ID worked like a charm, and her sexy little outfit dispelled the slightest notion that something so fine could be so young. With barely a grunt of approval leaving his lips the barrel chested, bald headed bouncer in the tight black shirt that was marked clear as day in yellow with the word "Security" on it ushered her in.

There another smaller line waited in a cramped lobby, she could see the scintillating lights further in. Hear the thudding bass and reverberating tone of inspired dance music calling eagerly to those waiting in line to pay the cover charge to gain entry beyond. Most of all she could feel the heat. The warmth of all the other bodies that were packed around her even in this ventilated lobby. Once the ten dollar cover charge was met, up the steps she went, and the humidity in the air that greeted her was palpable.

The place was packed and bustling and after a few steps beyond the stairs that drew her up into the main dance hall she was swallowed up in the crowd. Bodies, mostly attractive, all glistening with beads of perspiration that bumped and ground against one another jostled the petite heroine about. More then a few eyes wandered over her lush form as she worked to navigate her way through the throng. Some athletic toned woman with flowing blonde hair somewhere in her mid twenties that was dressed proactively in a sheer red slip of a dress met Zatanna's eyes. Her own brown gaze was filled with dilated pupils, the sign of being high on something potent. She rolled and rubbed her long curving body up against the magicians like she was some sort of strippers pole before spinning away with a gleeful laugh and looping her arms around some nearby man whose lips she smothered with her own.

Off in the far distance, well beyond the shifting bodies that gyrated all around her and past the pair of busy bars that flanked the pulsing dance floor Zatanna saw her goal. The deep red glow of the sign was visible even to someone as slight as her, it was set so high up. The Devils Den. The tracing pull of her magic told her that was where she needed to head, that somewhere beyond it led below. Down into the cellar of the club where the foul energies she was tracking had been gathering. She just needed to squeeze her way through the crowd and slip downstairs. Sounded easy enough.