Slave To The Demon

by Ruby McKenzie

  Rose’s odd eyes glittered as she blew the lot of them a kiss. “Touch the bike and you’re dead,” she warned merrily as she swung the door open and skipped in.

  Five minutes later, she emerged with two grotesquely pink cardboard boxes, each containing a dozen sugary jelly-filled pastries; one of these she tied to the back of her bike. The other she handed to the boy who had catcalled her, grinning, her odd eyes twinkling. “The only sugar you’ll ever get from me,” she quipped.

  The boy just stood there, open-mouthed and staring as she swung onto her bike and blasted off into the gritty urban afternoon, her ass most certainly looking as ripe and luscious as it ever had curving over her saddle. She could hear the sound of the kid’s friends jibing him fading into the distance behind her as she rode on.

  * * *

  When Skriker came to the door of his top floor luxury flat, Rose was standing in the hallway with a cornucopia of gifts: a bucket of fried chicken, a large pizza, the box of donuts, and a shopping bag containing jam, cookies, a dozen bottles of Newcastle beer, and three bottles of the pale sweet wine he adored. The special gift—the one tucked in the long beribboned box at the bottom of her overnight bag—she planned to keep hidden until after he'd eaten.

  He stepped back, looking her over with a huge grin crossing his face, his jade eyes twinkling. “Well, now…my angel arrives. God, it’s damn good to see you, baby. You look stunning, as always.”

  She slipped in through the door and kissed him, hot and sloppy. His mouth was so sweet and wet, and she felt the excitement of what she would offer him later bubbling up deep within her.

  Skriker took the pizza box from her and flipped the lid. He glanced at her, grinning hugely. “Pineapple, jalapenos, and sausage. You are just a gift from Heaven, you know that, baby?”

  Rose laughed, rolling her eyes. “Quit with the Heaven talk, Skrike, or you’ll ruin the mood.” She leaned in and kissed him again, flicking her tongue against his lips. “Happy birthday, big boy,” she purred, sexy-coy. His hips bucked a little toward hers, and she chuckled. “Horny already, are we?”

  “Don’t you know it. Been waiting to see you all week, ain't nothing better on my Dirty 30 than a sleepover with you, Rosie.”

  There was a heavy thump behind him, followed by the sound of some huge huffing beast panting. Skriker stepped back, smirking. “Someone else is crazy happy you’re here, baby.”

  Rose knelt on the Berber carpet, smiling radiantly as a massive black dog came padding up to her, wagging his long bushy tail exuberantly. He probably weighed around one hundred and sixty pounds—the size of an extremely large wolf. His fur was thick, bushy, and black as a midnight in Hell. His huge paws were tipped with curved black claws that had a strange onyx-like sheen to them, and a pair of unusually long fangs curved down from his upper jaw. Dark twisted horns curved up from between his pierced ears. His eyes were as red as rubies and glowed with their own inner light, shimmering eerily off the jet fur that lined his long, wolfish snout.

  Rose held out her hand and the big demon hound buried his nose in her palm, sniffing and rooting for treats. Rose ducked a hand into her bag and pulled out a smoked jerky treat, and the big Hellhound munched it down with relish. “Hey, Trash,” Rose said softly. “There’s a good boy. I missed you.”

  Trash huffed and lapped her hand and long fingers, his big pink tongue warm and wet against her skin. She dug the fingers of her other hand into the thick patch of fur between his pointed ears and scratched away, and soon the big hell beast was sitting back on his haunches, his head craned back, his mouth grinning, tongue lolling, his glowing crimson eyes narrowed to slits as he enjoyed her affections.

  Skriker grinned and swatted at his dog’s rump. “C’mon, mate, that’s my girl. Quit hogging her, will you?”

  Trash looked back at his master and whined uncertainly.

  Skriker grinned and scratched his Hell pup behind the ears. “Go on, into your room. You’re on your own, at least for tonight. You know the routine. Go.”

  Trash gave Rose’s hand a last lick and trotted away.

  Rose stood up, rubbing her drool-wet hands together and chuckling. “He’s going to be locked up in your guest room tonight, I take it?”

  Skriker nodded. “Yeah, as usual. He knows where to go when you’re here. I already have his bed waiting for him in there, plus a ton of food and treats and toys, he’ll be fine till morning.”

  “Excellent. The best is yet to come. Come on, you need to eat. I brought you lots of treats, too, bad boy.” She led him into the kitchen, washed her hands, and sat at his tidy breakfast table, watching him scarf down the cookies, the entire bucket of chicken, and half of the pizza as she sipped a glass of wine and smoked a cigarette.

  She once again found herself noting another distinct difference between their ancestries: Skriker’s demon side was always hungry, and he could eat more than three people at a sitting without suffering a bellyache or clogging an artery. She, on the other hand, never felt the pangs of hunger grip her belly; her father’s bloodline had made it so. She drank tons of booze and sweet black coffee and smoked dozens of cigarettes a day, but real hunger was never something she'd experienced, even in infancy at her mother’s breast.

  Finally, Skriker sat back with half the pizza still in front of him and belched contentedly, lifting his shirt up and rubbing a big hand across his flat rippling belly. “Ah, very nice. Thank you so much, sweet girl. Will save the rest of this luscious nosh for later. Now, dessert.”

  Rose tittered and took the rest of the pizza away, slipping it into the cold oven. She opened the overnight bag that she'd left sitting on the floor by the table and fished out the long beribboned box she had been hiding with the beer and wine. She sauntered back to the table and sat down again, setting the wrapped gift on the bright red placemat in front of him.

  Skriker lit up a cigarette, demon style, and puffed away, eyeing her curiously. “And what’s this, love?”

  “Dessert.”

  Skriker’s eyes glittered, and he smirked. He balanced his cigarette in the ceramic ashtray that lived on the table and went for the box, his big fingers pulling the dark blue ribbon away with eagerness. Rose watched him drop the ribbon onto the table, watched him lift the lid and grin hugely. He raised his eyes, and disbelief was dancing its merry way about in his gaze. “No fucking way.”

  She nodded, smiling shyly. “Way. Happy birthday, honey.” She watched as he lifted the beautiful black leather collar and its matching silver chain lead from the box, holding it up so that it swung gently, its thick D-ring gleaming in the dark red light of sunset.

  Skriker looked back at her, still grinning, and she felt a flush of some forbidden thrill deep in her guts, waiting to be brought to the surface.

  As usual, he cut to the chase. “So, what are we gonna do, baby?”

  Rose took a last drag on her cigarette and got up, sauntering around the table to him where she knelt before him, caressing his long muscular thighs through his jeans. “My present to you, for your Dirty 30. I know how much you love me, and sometimes I feel like—I don't show you how much I love you, like I should. Blame the angel in me.” She recalled her bitter argument with her father earlier that day and felt a stab of guilt pierce her heart.

  Skriker shook his head, his eyes pained. “Baby, really, you don’t have to—”

  She raised a hand and pressed her long fingers to his lips. “Shh. Don’t say anything, please. We both know how many rules we’re breaking being together. How an angel loving a demon is the most forbidden love in the Universe, and at the same time neither of us can picture his or her life without the other. I wanted to prove how much I love you by giving Paradise the finger in the wickedest possible way.”

  She reached up and jangled the chain leash in her hand. “I am offering you my total submission. I will be your devoted servant for three days and three nights. I will lay aside my own pride and let you do whatever you wish to me, with me, your angel slave.”

  Skrik
er’s mouth had slipped agape, but she could see the hunger there, dancing in his eyes, a wild ravenous light. Their sex had been hot from the get go, ridiculously hot, but this? This would take things to a whole new level, something that filled her with both trepidation and incredible excitement.

  “Rosie,” he murmured. “I’m—almost speechless. Really. Are you saying you’re into this kind of thing?”

  She averted her eyes, a bit coyly. “Perhaps. With you. I trust you, Skrike. I trust you won’t do anything—”

  “That would make you kill me?”

  Her gaze snapped back to his, and a tiny gasp passed through her lips. “Skrike, what—”

  He was chuckling a bit crazily as he lowered the collar and lead to the table, letting the chain drape across the pale Swedish wood. “Jesus, Rose,” he said softly. “You’re a Nephil. You have superhuman strength when you really want to use it. I mean, I’m no weakling, but let’s be honest: you almost killed me once already, baby!”

  “Are you afraid?” Rose whispered, her dark brows furrowing. “Of me?”

  His green eyes looked pained. “Of course I am, Rose…a bit. Shit, honey, your daddy’s kind kills my daddy’s kind as a hobby, you know? It’s not like you’re some helpless girl, sweetheart. On top of that, if you hold all of that back? I might hurt you, make you hate me—”

  She shook her head doggedly. “Wouldn’t happen.”

  “Can you promise me that, Rose? I’ve done this sort of thing before, with other girls. Lots of times. I have a drawer full of fun shit for this, if you really want to know.”

  Rose stared at him, her lip curling. “A drawer?”

  He shrugged, a bit bashfully. “Yep. Done this lots of times. A lot more women like this than you’d think. And usually it’s great. But sometimes, a girl can say she wants it, and then when I go to work on her? I mean, it’s not for everyone, Rose. You have to know for sure that this is something you want to experience. It can get…intense.”

  He cupped her chin gently in his hand and gazed down at her lovingly. “You would have to be willing to lay aside all that stubborn pride of yours for real, Rosie. Every bit that your dad bred into you. It’d have to stay boxed up—boxed up and nailed shut. I’ll do it, sure, and it’ll be the greatest thing I have ever done with you—with anyone. But you have to be okay with what this means for you.”

  Rose chewed on her lip, gazing at him from beneath her long dark lashes. Finally, she said, “I understand, and I want to give this to you…I want to feel what it is to have you completely take me. Maybe this will—set me free.”

  Skriker stroked her hair back from her forehead, raking his big tattooed fingers through her dark locks. “Okay. This is an awesome birthday gift, baby. I can’t tell you how awesome, but if I sense for a bare second that I’m hurting you in the wrong way, that you are despising me for this. It stops. Got that?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Now, what do you want me to do? Any requests? I can get really creative, believe you me. And don’t tell me that it’s my birthday and you don’t care…’cos I know you do. So get it out now and out on the table.”

  Rose sucked in her breath. “I want you to take me…ravage me—in a way no demon should. Shame me, and make me beg. Dominate me. Lead me astray, something that would make Heaven rage if they were to watch from Above.” She blushed and smirked coyly. “I want some…real power between my legs.”

  Skriker grinned. “Real power, eh? You got it. So long as the burning brimstone doesn’t start hailing down while we do it!”

  Rose giggled and felt herself blush like a schoolgirl. “It won’t. I’m closing them off to us. No angel will be able to see. I promise. We’ll be—alone.”

  “Good. In that case, I’m gonna rock your world. You may not be able to walk for a few days after all this, but it’ll be worth it. I promise.”

  “You always rock my world. I expect nothing different, honey.” She stood up and gave him a soft peck on the lips before grabbing her overnight bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “I’m going to…head into the bathroom for a sec. Slip into something more comfortable.”

  Skriker winked at her and slowly licked bits of jam from his fingers. She watched his tongue flicker, lapping up the bright red globs of sweet fruit, and her pussy flat out ached.

  “You do that, Rose. Good girl.”

  Good girl. There was something about how he said those two tiny words…something playfully ominous. She felt a small, bright thrill flicker and glow in her midst; it was as if she already instinctually knew what was coming.

  Rose went through the living room and slipped into the guest bathroom down the hallway, closing and locking the door behind her. She set her overnight bag on the spotless ceramic tile counter and unzipped it, removing a variety of items. A corset made of blue-black satin that buttoned up the front and lifted her fantastic natural breasts high. A tiny black lace thong which could have been used as dental floss.

  Rose had carefully shaved her pussy almost bare, leaving nothing more than a thin, neatly-trimmed landing strip of black pubic hair just above her lush naughty bits, and the panty just barely covered this strip. Her flesh would respond even more strongly to his touch and attentions in a hairless state, and as she slipped the almost invisible garment on, she found herself already growing moist. Damn…

  She carefully removed her precious sapphire and diamond pendant and hid it in her bag before digging deeper and pulling out an object carefully wrapped in tissue paper. She unfolded the wrapping, revealing a beautiful black satin Italian half-mask, shimmering with ruby-colored crystals and trails of beads that would brush and tinkle against her cheeks when she moved.

  She set the mask on the counter and went about binding her hair up, piling the mass of dark garnet-tinted curls atop her head leaving only a few silken corkscrews loose to tumble to her fair, eggshell-smooth shoulders. She painted her full lips ruby-red, and as a last touch slipped the mask on. She stood gazing at herself in the mirror above the sink her strange were points of light within that black mask.

  She closed her eyes, and in her mind, she closed and locked—every door that she could. Any place where her father, or any other divine being, could penetrate or could see was bolted with iron and silenced. It would be as if she and Skriker were invisible to the gazes of all that was Holy.

  Exactly what she wanted. She opened her eyes, plumped her breasts up in her corset, and strode from the bathroom, her head held high.

  * * *

  Rose walked around the corner from the hallway and entered the living room, her luscious hips swinging.

  Skriker was leaning in the open partition between the living room and formal dining room. He had stripped his shirt off while she changed, and she felt her breath catch in her throat as she observed that incredible inked body of his; that body that had so stirred her stubborn passions the first time she had laid eyes on him in an abandoned town’s rotten elementary school.

  Tight smooth skin that was beautifully tattooed in every color she could have imagined. There were leering demons, thorny roses, rich delicately-lined Nordic knot work twisting and weaving over and around hard curvaceous muscle. A flat rippling belly, accentuated by a barely-there platinum blond pubic trail that rose tantalizingly up from the waistline of his jeans.

  Fuck it all, he was simply addictive.

  His left arm hung casually against his side; in his hand dangled the collar and lead, tinkling softly against his leg. His viridian gaze glinted in the light of late afternoon, and she could feel his eyes drifting over her body as if they were another pair of hands.

  “Happy birthday, baby,” she murmured.

  He nodded, smirking, and there was something dangerously coltish in that smile. “Come here, Rose. Kneel down before me.”

  Rose came to him and knelt on the carpet, feeling the soft nubbins of the rug pushing into the taut skin of her knees. She had suddenly become more aware of her body, of every sense that possessed it; it was as if she were a
live wire, scintillating, crackling, ready to be made all the more alive by her beloved’s fierce attentions.

  Rose leaned her head back slowly, instinctually, exhaling as he lingeringly caressed her face. “Do you agree,” Skriker purred as his fingertips whispered across her skin, making her shiver in anticipation, “to be my devoted slave, as is your suggestion and your wish, for three days and three nights?” When he spoke, the mirthful trickster demon that he had always been seemed to melt away, and his words became thoughtful, deliberate, and ceremonial in their delivery. “Do you come willingly to me, offering yourself up to whatever pleasures and punishments I might bestow?”

  She heard him lift the collar, felt him slide it slowly and gently around her neck, felt the leather-and-chrome weight of it settle against her flesh. She felt his fingers twisting around, preparing to lock it in the back and therefore bind her symbolically to him; she would be expected to wear the collar with obedience and pride, and not once allow her angelic fire to mar it.

  She closed her eyes…and gave in.

  “Tell me you want it, Rosie. Tell me now and I’ll give it all to you.”

  Rose blinked and opened her strange eyes, gazing up at him. She ran her tongue along her ruby-painted lips before answering him. “I want it. Now.”

  There was a punctuating click behind her neck as he fastened the tiny padlock. The collar settled down on her collarbones, a burdensome surety which made her heart race and made her realize that there was no turning back.

  And so it began.

  He bent over her and hooked two fingers into the D-ring, jerking her forward. He whispered into her ear. “I need a safety word,” he murmured. His voice, that sensual husky baritone that spoke of countless days of cigarettes, booze, and hunting the Darkness, echoed in her ears and thrilled her to her very toes.

  Rose swallowed. “What—”Another comfortless jerk on the collar. She gagged slightly.

  “A safety word, Angel. You know what that is…don’t play coy with me.”