Slave To The Demon

by Ruby McKenzie

  Oh, yes, keeping her on her toes, indeed.

  Now, as the sun died beyond the highest buildings of the metropolis and diamond lights winked on in both skyscraper and night sky, Skriker guided his bike through a hole in a tall chain link fence and into a deserted parking lot—and Rose’s guts dropped into her shoes.

  Oh, fuck…you have got to be kidding me.

  The high-towered church loomed above them as Skriker’s bike glided smoothly to a stop in a darker corner of the lot, his boots dropping to the glass and grit-littered asphalt and crunching softly in the new darkness. A tall masonry structure, all pillars and fine stone carvings done in the style of Notre Dame, its ornate stained glass windows like dead eyes in the night. Boards were nailed across the double doors that topped the wide concrete steps, and a single word

  Abandoned…whisked through Rose’s mind like a piece of scrap paper caught in the wind. This was devilish, indeed. Rose hated churches, and he knew it. And yet, as he glanced back over his shoulder at her and she saw those fiery pinpricks burning in the depths of his eyes, she felt her hips buck forward instinctually.

  “Are you ready, girl? If not, you’d better get there quick. ”Skriker twisted around on the saddle until he was facing her, and she kissed him hotly, wildly, her breasts thrusting up against his chest. He slipped his hands down and gripped her hips, pulling her forward till his own thighs were pushed underneath hers and she could not close them, and she could feel his bulge pressing against the front of his jeans.

  He reached up and yanked her collar, kissing her hard as his other hand slid under her short skirt and caressed her naked labia, pinching her swollen clit between his fingers. She whimpered and bucked against his caressing digits, and immediately he yanked on her collar again, making her choke. “Don’t you dare come, slut,” he breathed. He let go of her collar and she heard him reach down, heard the sharp shink of metal as he pulled the knife he usually carried strapped to his thigh from its sheath. He briefly held it near her face, pressing the blade against her lips. “Lick it.”

  She slowly flicked her tongue against the cool hard metal, fixing her odd eyes on his as she did it. Finally, he lowered it and she felt the cold press of the blade against her breastbone as he sliced the middle strap of her lace bra; her breasts tumbled free, naked and vulnerable in the warm night air. Just beyond the shadows of the church parking lot, people were walking by, chatting, strolling leisurely along. Rose’s heart pounded in her breast and her breath came raggedly; she was thrilled, just thrilled!

  Skriker put his knife away and began to slap and caress her bare breasts where they swelled out from beneath her jacket like plump, ripe fruit, all the while caressing and fingering her hungry pussy. She whimpered as he pinched her nipples, tugging them until they burned and stung, and then caressing them softly, soothing them for the barest moment before tormenting them again.

  “Stay still, and don’t come,” he breathed against her trembling mouth, and this time when his hand left her vagina, she heard him unzip his jeans. He roughly pushed her skirt up her thighs, bunching it around her waist, and jammed his crotch up against hers. His dick penetrated her hungry hole instantly, humping into her as they both straddled the big Harley’s saddle. Rose sank her teeth into her bottom lip, squeezing her eyes shut as he gripped both her hips and jerked her against him, burying well over half of those rock-hard ten inches into her screaming cunt.

  It felt so good, feeling that slippery thick meat moving in and out, making her chasm bulge, caressing every fold, as the city walked and biked and drove mere feet from where they had parked. Skriker was grunting softly, his breath trembling as he struggled against release.

  “Yes,” Rose whispered, and he slapped her, his hand cracking across her cheek and mouth. Her head rocked and she groaned in feverish pleasure.

  “Didn’t tell you to speak, Angel,” he murmured as he gripped her face and gave her a few more plowing humps before pulling out of her with a thick wet sound. He caressed her stinging cheek and kissed her with wet, aching slowness, his tongue snaking along her bottom lip before he pulled away. “Stay put.”

  He shoved his still-hard cock back into his jeans, tucking it to the side and snugly against his thigh before dismounting his bike. He dipped into one of his saddlebags and pulled out a few different lengths of white cotton rope and a long red silk scarf.

  “Take off your jacket,” he commanded her, and Rose obeyed, tingling with anticipation.

  Skriker pried her mouth open and gagged her with the oxblood silk, knotting the luxurious fabric behind her head. He paused, stroking her curls back from her sweat-sheened brow before he went about binding her thoroughly, tying her arms behind her back, binding her wrists and upper arms with two separate lengths of rope. He wove a third longer length around her torso, binding her artistically until the ropes lifted and framed her breasts, displaying them with a brutal artistry. Skriker stepped back, looking her over, and grinned.

  “Holy shit,” he breathed. “Perfection. Utter perfection. Now you be a good girl while we go exploring. You want to go exploring with your Master, don’t you?”

  Rose nodded fiercely.

  She sat and watched as he morphed, his eyes blazing, his fingertips sprouting those long hooked claws. He wagged his split black tongue at her before plucking her from the saddle and, for the second time since the game had begun, slung her over his shoulder. She hung over him, panting as he slipped silently across the dark parking lot and to the brick side wall of the church.

  She heard the soft scrape of his claws against the brick as he effortlessly began to climb; the ground fell away rapidly as they ascended the wall. Rose sucked in her breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, shit, oh, fuck, he was not taking her into the church…oh, hell…

  They moved up and up, as swiftly as a sparrow takes a sharp gust of wind, and Rose briefly found herself wondering if Skriker really could fly…he just had never learned. His terrible grace was almost noble. He paused, and there was a clatter of his boots on a sill, followed by the almost dainty clink of glass panes being picked out of handsomely-wrought artisan's window. Rose closed her eyes again and felt them swing in through the window.

  You’re half angel, stupid bitch, she thought. You were born to a father who once sported wings like a mastodonic eagle’s. What the hell are you so freaked about with heights tonight?

  Skriker dropped into the moldering choir loft, huffing as he kicked up a small cloud of dust. Snuffling softly and muttering something ridiculous about cleanliness in that rumbling demon’s growl, he dropped Rose from his shoulder and into the first of the choir loft’s pews. He tossed his pack of toys on the floor and loomed over her, grinning devilishly.

  She lay there, staring up at him, and then all around them. The church loomed huge above, flying buttresses and carved statuary, left to molder and turn dusty as day turned into night and night into day. It was indeed beautiful, in the manner that all urban decay is, but as cars sighed by in the street beyond the church and their lights swung lazily though the shadowy darkness of the colossal abandoned space, Rose cried out shrilly, her voice echoing in the massive shadowy space.

  There were angels, all around, and at first, their staring faces seemed too real to her. Skriker chuckled above her, his voice a husky rumble, and he raised one clawed hand; instantly the empty space was filled with burning candlelight. Melting white pillars and tiny flickering votive lights twinkled like golden stars all around them, scattered all around the choir loft, on the sills of the tall stained glass windows, their glow rising up from the pews and dusty stone floor in the church proper far below.

  The angels all around them were revealed to be made of metal, stone and marble, their blank eyes staring; some of them sported lit candles in their masonry fists, or set atop the curves of their finely-carved wings.

  Skriker’s eyes flashed brightly and his black tongue snaked from between his fangs. “You like it, Angel?” he asked, his voice like nails scraping across steel. It
made the air seem to vibrate. “Came earlier today and set this up. Lots of pretty angels to watch—silently, I trust—as I bang the shit out of you.”

  Rose was panting by now, her naked breasts rising and falling rapidly as she glared up at him. A part of her was pissed—pissed that he had purposely brought her to a place like this. And yet, even greater was the desire pounding beneath that anger.

  He wants to fuck you in a church. And, dammit, you like it, Wild Rose. You like it just fine.

  Skriker bent over her, grinning. He hooked the tip of a claw over the rim of her gag and yanked the spit-wet silk from her mouth. Rose spat, her eyes blazing.

  “What do you want, slut?” Skriker hissed.

  Rose ran her tongue across her lips, thinking for a moment. “I want my Demon Master to taste and fuck my Angels’ tits.”

  “In a morphed state, correct?”

  Rose swallowed hard, considering this. Then, “Yes, Master.”

  “And after that?”

  “I want to suck your cock.”

  He smirked, a smile that was full of knives. “You want to suck my cock what, Angel?”

  “Please.”

  “Good girl.”

  Rose lay back against the wooden pew as Skriker licked and sucked her nipples, his black forked tongue sliding slippery wet over the lust-engorged buds. She tried hard to not make a sound, to defy him and his intentionally-morphed state, but before long she was moaning and twisting unbearably…God, who knew that Hellfire-warm black organ could elicit such sweet sensations? Halfway through he pulled back and his demonic attributes retreated, and once again he was the Nordic god that she had desired so fiercely from the tumultuous start.

  He pushed her breasts together, wedging his monstrous cock into her warm tight cleavage. Heaving, he began to fuck her tits, pinching and pulling her nipples hard as he did it.

  Rose twisted and moaned, thrusting her chest out so that he had better access to her breasts.

  He squeezed them together as hard as he could, creating a sweat-slicked crevasse between them into which he pumped his dick with ferocious speed, grunting as he did it. The plump head popped rapidly up from the sloping crest of her cleavage and Rose was once again, convinced that he was going to just unload right there and give her one hell of a Swedish pearl necklace.

  When he finally pulled away from her before ejaculation, she lay panting and whimpering as he stood over her, gazing down at her lying halfway against the hard wood of the bench.“All these angels saw,” he chuckled. “All of them saw my black tongue on your nips, Rose. All of them saw you enjoying my attention while I fucked your tits. Thank me for it.”

  Her voice trembled. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you what?”

  “Thank you, Master.”

  “Good slave. Come here. On your knees in front of me.”

  Rose obeyed.

  Skriker promptly hooked the fingers of one hand into the D-ring of her collar and jerked her head forward, jamming his rod into her mouth; he slid two fingers of his other hand across her face and pinched her nose shut, hissing deep in his throat as he did. “Open wide, whore.”

  Rose felt her throat constrict, felt herself gag slightly as his fat tool pushed hard into her throat. She gagged briefly again and then eased into it, allowing her throat to relax and take him in.

  “I want to take you somewhere special, slut,” Skriker whispered. “But first, we’ll just let all these pretty stone and marble angels watch you deep throat this nice thick demon cock.”

  Rose grunted softly; this sounded like a fine idea, the more she thought about it. She hated churches, hated how she felt like all of Paradise was staring her down. Now, as she knelt before her lover and swallowed as much as him that would fit, tears already streaking down her cheeks, she was more exhilarated than she ever imagined she could. She could taste her own juices on him from when he'd briefly fucked her astride his bike, and she lapped, sucked and slurped at him with glee.

  Skriker tugged at her collar, forcing her mouth up and down on his prong, bucking his hips as she took him deep. “Eat it,” he growled, and the air rumbles around her with the demonically low octave of his voice. She could feel him picking up speed, could feel the head of his ferocious cock striking the back of her throat. He moaned softly, at the edge of spurting, and she was ready for it, ready to swallow his wad. He grabbed her head and shoved in hard, hissing for her to hold still, just hold still and take it. He wanted her to watch him, to keep her strange lovely eyes on his as he fed her the prong.

  She obeyed, but continued to move her tongue along the length of his shaft, her suction still hard…and oh, he was fucking the shit out of her, fucking her face like a jackhammer boring into asphalt, until—

  He came hard, something she would later attribute to the stone eyes fixed on their act of lascivious romance. Rose barely had to swallow, as most of his emissions were shot straight down her throat and into her belly. When he released her, she crouched there panting, her scarred cheeks wet with mascara-black tears as she gazed up at him. “Did I please you, Sir?” she breathed dreamily.

  “Yes, angel,” he said softly. “I’m pleased with your sucking, as always, but I know you enjoyed it. You came again without permission. I allowed it once...but not again.”

  Oh, here it was, coming like a freight train that she was throwing herself in front of with a cry of bliss. Rose closed her eyes, felt his hand leave her face, and it come back like a whip crack, smashing across her left cheek. She moaned blissfully, her eyes welling, warm tears rolling down her cheeks. Skriker lifted her chin and she felt his tongue slick across her cheeks, licking her tears away, and she sighed. “Master,” she breathed.

  “What Master, Angel?”

  “Demon…Master.”

  “Look at me again.”

  She raised her weeping eyes to his, agonized, adoring.

  “You disobeyed,” he murmured. “You must learn discipline, Angel. Tell me what you want.”

  Her voice trembled with anticipation. “I want…whatever my Demon Master wishes.”

  “Yes,” he breathed. “And I need you to learn discipline. You need to be taught a lesson or two yet, I think. “He yanked the silk gag up and stuffed it into her mouth. A second scarf was pulled from his pack of toys and bound around her head, blinding her.

  A moment later, he had risen and lifted her, still bound, over his shoulder again. Rose felt them ascending as Skriker scuttled silently up the wall between two stained glass windows and across the mural-painted ceiling, carrying her with him. Rose's heart thundered in insane anticipation, feeling his body move with hard-edged grace. A few moments later, his position shifted and they were moving upward again.

  The summery night air struck her moments later. He lifted her from his shoulder and set her down on what felt like cool cement. She could hear a night wind moaning through trees, and the soft chatter of passerby somewhere beyond. She sat there on her knees, listening to the rustle of his clothing, soft and crisp in the night. She heard him messing about in his bag of tricks, pulling items out, and a shiver went up her spine.

  Some minutes later, Skriker pulled the blindfold off and Rose blinked, her eyes adjusting to the city night. She found herself kneeling in the bell tower of the church; the huge iron-colored bell hung above, a silent metallic sentinel that would bear witness to whatever debauchery her lover had planned for this, his final night as her Master.

  Skriker was sitting before her on a long wooden bench set aside the edge of the bell tower wall, and he was naked. All around them more of those tall white church candles burned, hot pale wax pooling in their glass funnels. In one hand, Skriker clutched the black leather flogger; the other clutched her lead chain. His green eyes glittered in the flickering light like a tomcat’s. He clutched her lead and tugged on it, forcing her to scoot forward on her knees. She resisted instinctually, tugging back at the sight of the flogger.

  His response was a hard jerk on the leash, making her choke as she tum
bled forward. “Don’t run away,” he growled, and his husky rumbling tone made hot sweet urgency ripple through her flesh. He grinned playfully, and she sighed through her gag. She had never imagined she could feel at home in a church—and that was only half the irony of this whole mad scenario they had whipped up together.

  “You must learn your lesson, Angel. Come here,” he said softly, and she scooted forward, tensing against the cotton ropes rubbing against her skin. A sharp breeze whistled through the bell tower, and her nipples puckered. Skriker raised the flogger, and his eyes gleamed again: orange demon lights in the night.

  He lashed the flogger across her outthrust breasts and she jerked back, shrieking shrilly against her gag as the hot sting tore through her tissues. He wrapped the lead chain tighter around his big fist, pulling her forward as he struck her another pitiless blow across her tits. She tossed her head back and wailed, her saliva and mascara-blackened tears soaking her silk gag, staining the fabric with dark watery stains, and her muffled cries echoed within the bell hanging above them.

  Skriker struck her harder, faster, the black fronds of the flogger slapping and cracking across her chest, and soon she was twisting away, her heart pounding furiously as new red welts rose on her tender flesh.

  “Have you learned, whore?” Skriker hissed.

  Rose whimpered, nodding her head wildly.

  Skriker set his cruel toy down on the bench and climbed down, kneeling before her on the stone floor of the tower. He stroked her sweat-drenched hair back from her face, kissing her wet cheeks. He pulled the gag from her mouth and brushed his lips against hers, his tongue flickering with aching tenderness, murmuring to her as he did so. “My sweet girl,” he whispered. “I know how you are. How you want to be both held and ravaged. I could sense that in you in that nurse’s office in Paradise Hill…remember that, Rose?”