Ringing the Devils Doorbell

By J Spaulding

A cautionary tale of self-abuse. When Amber dares to ring the devils doorbell in church the devil answers! The devil grants her sexual liberation but she soon discovers that you can have too much of a good thing.
From J. Spaulding the author of Alix in Pleasure Land and the Horny Little Mermaid.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J Spaulding
• Release date: Jun 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463828564

J Spaulding

UK based author.

Book preview

Ringing the Devils Doorbell

By

J. Spaulding

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©2019 J. Spaulding

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and settings are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, names, locales, organisations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

"Girls who masturbate. The clitoris is not meant for self pleasure. It’s meant for creating a child, you morons. Do you know why you feel like garbage after you masturbate? That’s because your clitoris is sending bad chemicals to your brain. By touching yourself, you are killing your body.

That’s the devil’s doorbell and if you keep pressing it, soon enough he will answer."

- unknown

Verse I. Living in Sin

In the village of Hazelnut Green you will find your typical British picture postcard setting. Just down the road from Lake Crescent, It had a church, post office, local shop, pub, a park in the centre and cottages lining every road. But if you drove through it, it wouldn’t stand out any more than any other commune.

The people that lived in this village were also what may be seen as typical. Going about their ordinary business. Monday to Friday; kids to school to learn, father to work to work and mother at home being mother at home. On weekends they would relax, except for Sunday morning when they would attend church. They all followed the same ideals and ethics. This may sound like perfection but at times it isn’t as anyone who dared to be different was sure to become an outcast. Just like in most communities that you could find anywhere. The residents would sometimes display two versions on themselves. That they would show to the world, to fit in. And that they keep behind closed doors. The personal self, that no one would understand. However for the people of Hazelnut Green, they were strictly God fearing people. They loved God, but still very much feared Him. For He could not be blinded by mere curtains.

However one individual, was in the process of expressing herself against what those may think of her.

Amber, a lass of eighteen, had retired to her bedroom in the early afternoon to rest. She had told her Aunt Bertha, the woman she lives with after her parents untimely demise early in life, that she was feeling weary. But in reality this was all but an excuse. Feelings of hot desire had been building up inside that day, and the urge became too strong to keep bottled up.

Amber laid on her bed. The window and drapes were wide open letting the midday sunshine break through, illuminating the dust as it danced gently in the air. From where she lay, Amber could see only the blue sky and the tips of the trees in the garden waving in the soft breeze.

Her long auburn hair and gingham dress flowed across the duvet cover as she laid still wrapped in the thoughts that were making her body act up in ways against her will. Every time she saw an attractive man her thoughts would turn sexual. Like a rolling snowball these thoughts would keep growing and growing until it was useless to resist.

It was all because of her dear Aunt at lunch time. She had to bring up the news of an old school friend of Amber’s. She pictured him in her head, looking at her from afar, he smiled. She smiled back. And from there she couldn’t help peeling his clothing off. She couldn’t help loosing track of a conversation and becoming lost in the scene playing in her mind. He lay her down, wherever this moment was taking place, she quickly forgot, and he gently kissed her all over.

Lying on the bed she brought that moment back in to her thoughts. She closed her eyes. His hands laid upon her breasts. Feeling the contours shaping the fabric of her dress, she imaged her hands were those of that man.

The man’s hand left her breasts and went downwards, sliding across her belly, over her thighs to the end of her dress. She picked the end up with her fingertips and lifted it up over her stomach. Her fingertips caressed her inner thighs. Gently moving up and down. Her thumb accidentally touched the underside of her panties. Dampness. She smiled. With