A Mother's Prayer: Part Two

This spirit's been riding Trinity's mind for weeks now, and Kobe Lee is unraveling at the edges. Her daughter has begged for this cure- Trin's words hit like nicotine: motherfuck me until it's gone. They need help they can't find locally, so Kobe calls the one fixer who talks like she knows what demons do to a woman's clit. Tanya Tate hits the driveway and the line goes dead behind her. Trinity's already on the couch, hips moving without asking. The bass rattles the base of her spine and the thing inside her grins with borrowed teeth. It smelled Tanya the second the Uber braked, and it's hungry. Tanya reads it in seconds, closes the door, drops her bag. Nothing fancy, just a pack of silicone cocks fat enough to bruise memory. "Everybody naked. Now." Kobe flinches, but Tanya’s word is law when demons fuck back. They strip, skin meeting air still charged with whatever bad angel owns Trinity. Tanya nods, picks the double-pronged toy, latex warm from her palm. Kobe straddles Trinity's wrists. Trinity's thighs open, hips rising like reflex. The toy sinks in fast, no mercy, the stretch deliberate, brutal. Trinity chokes on a moan and then begs anyway. "Harder, Mom, make it fucking scream." Kobe drives. Tanya adds the rhythm. Sweat, veins, muscle. Trinity's mouth is open, jaw loose, her eyes white for half a second like the tenant is checking doors, testing new locks. They push deeper. The evil cackles in stereo, but the moans coming out of Trinity start to stutter, fractured, less puppet and more girl again. Whether the thing leaves on its own or gets fucked out of the house depends on how deep they’re willing to drive it. Lights flicker once, twice, then steady. Trinity shakes hard enough to rattle teeth, eyes clear for a moment before rolling white again, fresh for round two. Tanya wipes her wrist, grabs another angle, and resets. Round two begins.