“Yes, I do. Kiss me,” Torre ordered as he started thrusting into her. He was threatening to impale her.
Her kiss was frantic, as if she was trying to bite her lover’s face off. She was out of her mind, trying to use his mouth to gag her own cries. All the way Torre hammered her harder and harder. Amy was drowning helplessly in intense pleasure, but there was problem - she couldn’t come. She was ready; the orgasm was trying to force its way out. It was building exponentially but it was trapped. Amy knew Torre was doing this somehow, torturing his captive with his love.
“Someone help me!” she screamed.
No one saved her.
“I beg you, let me come!” Amy pleaded, her tear soaked eyes looking into the dark, warm pools of Torre’s eyes.
“Come now, little one,” he instructed, lovingly.
Her release was overwhelming, flooding through her whole body until her consciousness was lost and merciful sleep took her exhausted, captive flesh. Torre threw his limp slave-girl over one muscle-knotted shoulder and steadied her with a hand caressing her ass. He kissed her waist as he carried her off into darkness.
They lay together in the flickering firelight of the pit, demon-master and beautiful slave. His kisses were even better after sex. Amy rested her head on his rock-solid chest.
“I thought demons were evil.” Amy said.
“In case you haven’t noticed, you’ve been abducted and made a sex slave,” the demon teased.
“Yes…but for you I am a willing captive.”
“Perhaps, little one. But you should know that your thoughts are not truly your own. My kiss drugged you in the parking lot.”
“Good.”
He smiled. “Alas, it is time for you to go home.”
Amy sat up and looked at him.
“Soon it will be morning in your world, and you need to live your life,” he explained.
Amy had temporarily forgotten everything. She had a family to care for. She had to return for her kids.
“You are letting me go?” Amy needed to be free. But she didn’t want this to end. She couldn’t bear the thought.
“You sound disappointed.”
“I need you.” She looked away. “But I suppose you have all the women you need.”
Torre pulled her back gently and kissed her. Amy was surprised by his response. Could a demon have a romantic streak?
“There is only one you. You are a rare and wonderful thing, Amy. That is why I took you. That is why I must let you go.”
“Can I ever return?
“Our first kiss has not worn off in the outside world yet. While it is poisoning you, the toxin will carry you back here when you sleep.”
“Then I will return tomorrow night. Promise you will take me.”
“You do not understand what you are doing. If you return tomorrow night, I will brand you.”
“What does that mean?”
“When you wake, look at your inner thighs. That is where my brand appears on my females.”
Amy didn’t like the “my females” remark, but she wasn’t going to worry about that now. She could drive them off later…
“You will see this mark,” Torre said, holding up a golden coin, showing the image of a bull mounting a human woman in the shadow of a tower.
“Tomorrow it will be faint. It will fade, as will your memories of me.”
Amy didn’t want to forget.
“If you come back, I will show you no mercy. I will take you in my true Incubus form and, if you survive, the brand will become permanent.”
“If I survive?” she gulped.
“You will be my slave for all eternity. You will still wake in the mortal world and live that life. But every sleeping moment you will find yourself here, bound, with me inside you.”
Amy’s head was spinning. The implications were terrifying – and intriguing.
“Take one last kiss from me, Amy. Then never return. If you stay awake for twenty-four hours, you will be free of my poison.”
Amy took her kiss. It was long, desperate, and perfect.
She awoke in her own bed.
She immediately threw the covers off and spread her legs. Torre’s brand was there! It was faint, but it was there, exquisite evidence of their night of love. It was his touch, burned into her mortal, willing flesh.
Amy collapsed on the bed and stretched, fingers between her legs.
This is what it feels like to be happy.
Now she had a decision to make, the biggest one of her life. Torre had warned her not to come back, and he had been deathly serious. But could she stay away, even if she wanted to? Torre’s kiss may have been wearing off, but now Amy was drugged by her own hormones and emotions.
Let’s see, should I return to the mortal dating pool and deal with human men? Or should I be taken eternal sex slave by the greatest lover I will ever know?
Torre had made her an object of absolute desire. He had wholly possessed her and somehow she hadn’t even experienced the best of it yet! He could rock her world – he already had – but Amy also sensed she was woman enough to return the favor. There was no decision to be made.
I’m already yours, master. I won’t let you let go of me.
She gathered herself so she could take care of her business in this world. Everything seemed normal. The kids were safe in their rooms; they had time left to sleep before getting up for school. She kissed them on their foreheads then dressed and went downstairs to pack lunches and cook breakfast. There was no way she was going to shower today, she wanted his scent to linger. Amy saw the kids off on the bus then set about her daily errands with vigor. She had to get things done.
Tonight was going to be an early bedtime.
Amy gained consciousness in an ornate bedroom, candlelight dancing on her bare flesh. She lay stretched across a canopied, four-post bed carved with graphic depictions of demons and humans mating. She leaned over and kissed a particularly explicit image that struck her fancy.
Torre, you are nearby. I can sense you.
Amy slid from the bed, her bare feet touching warm stone as she strode in front of a giant mirror. She was naked and magnificent. It was then that the glorious demon showed himself, emerging from the darkness behind her. His arms came about her waist, pulling her close. They kissed, the taste of his lips divine. Their eyes met, and in Torre’s gaze Amy could see his desire. Tonight was going to be different. More intense.
A slight tremor overtook her body.
“Be still,” he whispered. Her body understood it as a command and stopped shaking. Amy had not been bound yet, but they both knew she was already helpless. Torre kissed her neck as he drew her wrists behind her back. He bound them with leather straps. Then he ran his forefinger down the small of her back, tracing a line to the top of the crack of her ass. Amy tensed, fearing and desiring penetration. Torre pushed her over to the bed, throwing her back on her bound wrists, hurting her and arousing her further. A mad thought crossed her mind:
I am going to escape. You’ll have to come get me.
Amy cocked her knee, placed a bare foot on the demon’s ripped midsection and pushed him back. She then ran for it, wrists still bound behind her back.
Torre responded. He caught her about the waist and dragged her before the mirror, his staff now fully erect and comfortably wedged between her ass cheeks. Amy was further drugged by his delicious scent, needing him inside her and aching with frustration. Torre produced a jeweled collar and secured it around her neck, then hooked a leash to the collar. She would not run again.
“Look at yourself.” Torre ordered.
In the mirror, Amy could see herself as Torre did – beautiful, womanly and desirable. Torre was running his fingers over her nipples, bringing them erect. Next he produced a thin golden chain with two clamps, one on each end. Amy knew that even her nipples were to be enslaved. She gasped in pain and joy as the clamps took hold.
Never had she looked or felt so beautiful.
“On your knees,”
Torre commanded.
Had she complied of her own will, or had the very words forced her to the stone? It didn’t matter. There she was, wrists bound behind her back, kneeling before his magnificent rod, erect and presented to her willing mouth. Her leash was gripped firmly his right hand, leaving her just enough slack to do her job. Amy took his manhood eagerly into her open mouth, blood red lips encircling the massive, engorged member. She felt the barbs claw at the inside of her mouth and rake her tongue, just as they had punished the willing walls of her vagina the previous night. His flesh burned, his shaft holding firmer than cast iron as she worked her own magic, changing speeds and techniques, making his eyes roll back in his head. Here, bound and on her knees, mouth violated, she was in control. His right hand involuntarily dropped the leash; his left hand was caressing her hair and holding on for dear life.
It was the first time Amy ever heard a demon scream. His helpless, wild joy shattered the air as he released. Torre’s burning seed flooded her mouth, choking her with the force of its release and the sheer volume. Amy fought to swallow as much as she could, to show him she could take it and because, more than anything else, she wanted his seed inside her, however it entered. When she pulled her head back Torre’s remaining ejaculate doused her face and chest. The musk from it was overpowering, driving her desire beyond her control.
She kissed the head of her master’s cock and looked up. He was pleased.
“You…promised me your true form.” Amy pleaded.
“You are feeling bold, little one.”
“I’m holding up my end.”
“You will be,” Torre said with an evil smile. Then he cruelly seized the leash and pulled her standing, flooding her with fear and arousal. He turned and led his barefoot captive deeper into the chasm, down massive curving staircases and through secret tunnels she could never escape. She dared not fall, as he would have dragged her the rest of the way. Tonight was different than the first night. She had come back, and now he was going to take her to her limits, viciously. Exactly how she wanted it.
After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the center of the cavern. Torre dragged his slave into a circular, torch-lit chamber. The anticipation was killing Amy.
“Behold,” ordered the demon.
The chamber illuminated as flames ran up the walls, sending burning heat across Amy’s exposed, mortal flesh. There, in the center of the chamber, she could see an ornate, curved stone altar with marble phalli and iron rings. A woman – or man – could be bound and dominated an infinite number of ways on its unforgiving stone.
So this is where I am to be taken.
Torre seized his beautiful slave by her hips and placed her on the altar, sliding a curved marble phallus deep into her ass as he did. He chained her mercilessly, leaving Amy on her back in an X, the curve of the altar thrusting her spectacular breasts toward the sky and exposing her already soaking mound to meet her master. Amy moaned in a mix of ecstasy and agony, overcome by her own enslavement. She was ready to come now.
Torre looked at her, his dark eyes burning with desire.
“Fight me,” her demon-captor ordered.
Amy struggled against her bonds as if her life depended on it, her dripping, naked flesh writhing against demonic iron, the stone phallus violating her further, driving both of their arousal levels to new heights.
Take me now, dammit!
Amy’s helpless writhing set Torre free from his adopted, almost-human form.
When she focused, she saw Torre in his true form. She gasped. Above her stood a massive bull-god, a Minotaur like creature with muscles that could crush anything they encountered. He was at least eight feet tall, if not ten. The bull had dead, black eyes, devoid of the love that always lingered in the back of human Torre’s eyes, no matter what he was doing to her. This creature was going to tear her in half, taking her on its own terms, a final act that would seal her in bondage to him for eternity. If she lived…
Do it!
The Bull snorted and its shaft rose between Amy’s lovely, chained legs. Amy almost screamed when she saw it. But she wanted it so, so badly. Torre’s human staff had mastered her, and now she had to find out what his full power could do, whether she was woman enough….
The half-bull, half man climbed atop her, seemingly recognizing her by her scent. He stopped before her exposed vagina and licked, his tongue separating her folds, its rough surface running across her clit and exploring her deeply. She needed to orgasm immediately, but as it did last night, Torre’s demon-magic prevented her. She would not be granted release until the massive shaft of the bull finished with her, flooding her with its seed.
When she could stand no more, the beast pulled itself fully atop her, smelling his own musk on her heaving breasts. This female was his, and it was time to show her what he did with his women. Amy was drenched, her juices flowing down her thighs and being consumed, greedily, by the porous stone altar. The bull aligned himself, and aware of the limitations of his mate, moved slowly as he found his way inside the sweet, captive, mortal woman.
Amy’s scream echoed throughout the caverns of Hell, filling them with her glory. She didn’t know how, but she had taken him, and now he was punishing her beyond comprehension with thrust after thrust. She was in agony, but could not bear for it to stop. This is why she was here, this is why he took her, this was what she needed.
The same spell that prevented her from coming prevented her from passing out. Every second was an eternity of torment, driving Amy from her mortal mind as she lost the ability to hear her own ecstatic screaming. The Bull was ready to come, thrusting harder and deeper again and again until he finally bellowed and his spell broke, setting free the uncontrollable orgasm that had built inside Amy. Slave and Master locked gazes in mutual orgasm, Amy helplessly in love as tears of joy ran down her face.
Then there was nothing left except sweet oblivion.
Amy did not wake on the mortal plane. Torre’s scent filled her nostrils; satin sheets covered her supine body. She was in her master’s bed, restrained only by the muscular arms of his human form. They kissed for some time, saying nothing. Torre smiled at her.
“You are mine,” he said.
The dawn light shone into Amy’s bedroom.
She opened her eyes. There it was, his mark – forever branded on her inner thigh, a sign of her eternal bondage to her lord and master. She smiled and collapsed back on the bed. Amy could feel a fire within her; she pulsed with strength and energy she had never known. The hollow feeling she had been struggling with since her divorce was gone.
In the days and weeks that followed, she got quite good at living her dual life: loving mother, taking the kids to soccer and ballet, attending school functions by day, and demon’s consort by night. She didn’t take shit from anybody. After all, she was a woman who could slake a pit demon’s lust. She had even taught him a thing or two. Knowing that felt awesome. And if a day in the mortal world got a little too boring, she could submit to the chains of Hell simply by closing her eyes.
Any time I damn well please.
THE END
Coming Next:
The Incubus Chronicles #2:
CHAINED by the Incubus
In which Cassie learns the punishment for taunting a young demon, in wave after helpless wave.…
Enslaved by the Incubus (The Incubus Chronicles) Page 2