Die-abolical
© S.B. 2025 All Rights Reserved.
Reproduction and distribution of this writing without the author’s written permission is prohibited. This writing is not to be included in any publication – free or otherwise -, except the author’s self-published works.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All the characters are over 18.
Marion stared at the pair of onyx dice resting on top of the old mahogany table. She had rolled two sixes for the fifth time in a row.
“There’s no fucking way!” she exclaimed. “The odds of this happening are…”
“Astronomical, yes!” Greta mumbled, her eyes twinkling. “I think the world is trying to tell you something. Roll them again!”
“Should I? The stories…”
“Don’t tell me you believe them now!”
Marion hesitated, the weight of the ancient tales pressing down on her chest like an iron shroud. The attic of Greta’s country house seemed to lean in closer as if eavesdropping on their conversation.
There was an old folk tale in the family passed down through countless generations. If anyone rolled two sixes six times in a row, they would rip a fabric in reality and summon a demon from the nether regions of Hell.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore…” Marion bit her lip, grabbing the dice and holding them to her chest. She glanced at the portrait of one of Greta’s ancestors, her sharp eyes peering down at them with solemnity. Getting the same result five times in a row was already an achievement – maybe she should stop and be done with it.
“Those stories are just that,” Greta continued, a grin stretching across her face. “Just old wives’ tales meant to scare children into behaving and we’re not behaving and we’re not children anymore. Do it! This is fun.”
Was it? The more the numbers stacked the more uncertain Marion became. She had just celebrated her thirtieth anniversary and wanted to celebrate many more. She took a deep breath and prepared to return the dice to the velvet-lined rectangular box where they were stored.
“Nah, I’m done for now!” she declared, extending her fist toward the box. Suddenly, as if she had been stung by an invisible hand, Marion’s fingers twitched and separated, the dice falling and bouncing on the table one last time. Sixes again, much to Greta’s delight.
With a low rumble, the attic began to tremble, the floorboards vibrating as if responding to a primordial call of the deep. Marion staggered back, eyes wide with horror.
Greta let out a satisfied squeal, but her laughter faltered as the table began to splinter beneath the weight of some unseen force. Cracks snaked through the mahogany’s surface, dark fissures spreading like creeping shadows eager to consume the light. The table split in half along the central line, sending splinters flying into the air like daggers aimed at their hearts. From where it stood erupted a geyser of hellish fire that illuminated every corner of the attic.
Out of the flames emerged a figure cloaked in darkness, her silhouette stark against the fiery backdrop. She was a creature of exquisite and terrible beauty, skin smooth and lustrous like obsidian polished by centuries of secret touch. The flickering light danced over her naked form, revealing a cascade of raven hair that fell in wild waves to her waist.
Marion and Greta stopped breathing as the demon stepped forward, her presence both alluring and terrifying. her eyes were luminous orbs of red, like crystallized blood. They held a gaze so penetrating it felt as if she could peer right into their souls, sifting through dreams and fears alike with an insatiable curiosity.
The demon smiled, a slow, sultry curve of lips that beckoned like a dangerous promise about to be fulfilled. Her teeth glinted, pearly white yet tainted with a hint of menace, a reminder of the predatory power she wielded. Each step she took sent ripples through the flames as if they were extensions of her very being.
“Greetings, little mortals,” she purred, her voice thick as honey. “Thank you for setting me free again. It’s been too long. What is it that you most desire?”
Marion was awestruck by the heat radiating from the demon’s presence; it was intoxicating and overwhelming, a potion brewed from every forbidden wish whispered in the dark. She opened her mouth to speak but found only silence, all words vanishing under the weight of that captivating gaze. Greta was also consumed by her otherworldly presence, realizing deep inside that this story would not end well for them.
“That was a rhetorical question, of course,” the demon laughed. “for what else could you wish for besides becoming my obedient toys? Fear not, children – your minds are already mine!”
As the demon’s laughter echoed through the attic, it reverberated against the walls, twisting and warping reality itself around them. The flames danced higher, casting an array of shadows that morphed into grotesque figures, writhing and screaming in perpetual agony. Marion and Greta felt their thoughts being ripped away, dissolving like smoke before the vibrant scarlet gaze that now consumed them.
“No mortal will ever be more than a servant to me,” the demon said, pointing at her flaming pussy. “Worship your Mistress.”
Eyes glowing red, the two friends succumbed and crawled toward the evil seductress, their world changed forever. Their expressionless visages reflected on the onyx dice as they welcomed their diabolical future.
THE END
A new daily challenge. The goal is to create 365 new pieces of flash fiction dealing with themes of femdom, hypnosis, and mind control. Inspiration will come from all over the place, including your suggestions. Credit will be given to everyone who suggests something for me to write about.
I’m doing a test run of this feature in January 2025 to prove I can do it. If you want the challenge to continue until the end of the year, help me achieve my Patreon goal of $250 a month.
