Demon Mine

by Marina Simcoe

  Helpless against his touch as always, I tilted my head and leaned into it. He cupped the nape of my neck gently with one hand and then slid the hand forward moving it up along the length of my throat, tipping my head back until the top of my head touched his chest.

  A shuddered breath escaped me, and I leaned away from him, wrapping my arms around my middle in a protective gesture. His hand slipped away from my throat but remained holding on to my shoulder.

  We were not in the arena right now: he didn’t have to touch me. He chose to do it. And I felt that for once I had a choice too. I needed to find out how much of a choice I had with him when we were alone.

  His hands remained on my shoulders for a little while, but to my relief he didn’t push it and didn’t touch me like that again.

  A moment later, I just felt his gloved fingers comb through my hair the way he saw me do it myself sometimes. Then, I felt him part my hair carefully and braid it for me.

  Tears filled my eyes and prickled the inside of my nose. It felt so good to have someone take care of me like that, and at the same time in some way, it felt worse than anything anyone had done to me here. His actions right now were reserved for people who truly cared about each other. This was something a lover would do, and it was supposed to make me feel cherished.

  His tender touches and gentle caresses mocked the very idea of intimacy to me right now… None of it should ever happen inside a poorly lit basement cell with bars on the window in the door. None of it should be given by practically a stranger in the full body armor and the mask…

  Either not sensing how I felt or not caring about it, he squeezed the back of my neck again gently and left the cell quietly, taking the bucket of cooled water with him.

  I didn’t turn around to see him go; I’d seen him leave way too many times. I waited until his footsteps died in the distance then lowered myself to the mattress and let the tears run. As lonely as I was, as starved as I felt for human companion, he was not the one capable of giving it to me. He was just a substitute. I always knew it. It was just that he was all I had, and I let myself be fooled sometimes, even if for a little while, until the realization of my true circumstances hit me again, like it did tonight.

  He carried the Source to her cell after tonight’s Feeding. No, not just “the Source” any more. Alyssa. She gave him her name and, intentionally or not, she made him think of her as Alyssa – a specific person, not as “the Source”, one of many. He also found himself thinking of her more and more as the time passed.

  He had been convincing himself that the reason he was so preoccupied with her was because she was a human. A Source. A creature capable of creating the emotions he fed on, somebody he had always found fascinating.

  She was literally his sole source of nourishment for as long as he was her Handler. His main job remained to stimulate her, to create the sexual energy for the Council Feedings. As a payment for it, he was allowed to skim any positive feelings and emotions she created outside of the Feedings.

  He told himself that he needed to get to know her better because it was in his interests to figure out how to nurture positive emotions in her. However, he ended up finding himself simply enjoying her stories, captivated by the kaleidoscope of emotions – positive or otherwise – playing inside of her when she talked about her life at home. Enthralled by the soft feminine cadence of her voice and the treat of her occasional laughter, he was unable to leave her cell. He could think of no other place he would rather be than in that grim concrete cell underground, as long as she was in it, talking to him.

  She seemed to also, if not exactly enjoy his company, then at least not to mind it. He could see that she had increasing amounts of positive feelings when he was around. She was always glad to see him first thing in the morning. The anticipation of her morning greeting added a bounce to his step on the way to her cell. He even glimpsed a quick warm flash of affection when she looked at him every now and then.

  He noticed her innocent ploys to stall him inside the cell and realized that she did it for the sole purpose of keeping him there longer. So he played along, lingering inside her cell for as long as he dared without raising suspicions of other Handlers and Janitors.

  Talking to Sources was strictly forbidden. Sources were also not allowed to talk to their Handlers. However, since no one ever informed them of any rules, the Sources often did talk to Handlers, Janitors and even the members of the Council. The conversations were always one-sided and consisted mostly of screams, questions, insults and moans of passion in any combination.

  Listening to Alyssa’s stories would get him in trouble if anyone reported him. He realized that, but was simply unable to resist her company.

  For him, keeping her emotions in balance was a necessity; she needed to be useful for the Council in order to survive, and he was determined to keep her alive. However, making her happy – not just balanced – was slowly becoming his main concern.

  He was still confused by the sudden waves of regret, sadness or loneliness rising in her unexpectedly. He scanned her emotions almost constantly and could tell what she was feeling at any given time, but he rarely knew why she was feeling a certain way. She was still very responsive to his touch during the nightly Feedings, and the negative emotions did not seem to affect that, but they bothered him nevertheless.

  For reasons he could not even begin to explain, he felt restless when she was sad or unhappy, and he searched for ways to cheer her up. It was not an easy feat, considering the limited resources he had to his disposal. He couldn’t even provide her with the few simple items she asked from him. Giving her anything at all would be against the rules. Sources were allowed to have only their very basic needs met.

  There were reasons for it. The Council relied on a steady supply of positive emotions to feed the Demon Army employed to do the Council’s bidding. Therefore, every positive emotion experienced by a Source was precious and could not be wasted. The simple pleasures were more easily experienced by a Source if she had been deprived of any comforts for a length of time.

  For instance, if she only had tasteless food to eat for weeks, she would experience an intense pleasure from a delicious meal once in a while. If she only had a bucket of water and a washcloth day after day, her pleasure from submerging herself into a warm fragrant bath, eventually, would be very close to the sexual pleasure. The feeling was nourishing enough to stave off starvation of several Soldiers for a while.

  The emotions didn’t need to be as strong and powerful as sexual energy; after all, it was in Council’s best interests to keep their servants underfed. Hunger reduced the mental ability to think and analyze in incubi and weakened their long-term memories. An all-consuming need to feed made them a perfectly obedient workforce, ready to do anything for a chance of a regular feeding.

  He recognized this order of things that had prevailed in the demon world for as long as he could remember and didn’t question it. He understood that in the reality of limited food supply, the members of the Council needed to operate at their full mental capacity at all times for the benefit of all of his kind.

  He held on to this belief every night as he locked Alyssa to the cross and exercised all of his self-control to avoid taking any of the sexual energy radiating from her. He had proven his ability to control himself around humans during the many ancient wars he fought with them for the Council. He’d earned his place as a Handler now, as Alyssa’s Handler specifically, and he didn’t want to jeopardize it.

  Secretly, he had already broken more severe rules for Alyssa, but to give her any toiletries now would be way too obvious. She would be easily discovered using them, and they would simply be taken away. Then the Council would separate him from her as a punishment. Providing Sources with more comforts than was assigned to them by the Council was not considered to be a big offence, and his punishment would most likely be just an assignment to care for a different Source. Being separated from Alyssa, though, was unthinkable now and felt like the biggest pu
nishment of all.

  He wanted to do something for her, though. Anything! She was right: intentionally or not, she had given him so much. She gave him personally infinitely more than she would ever know. She was the sole source of light in his bleak life, and it weighed heavily on him now that he couldn’t give her anything back, not the simple toiletries she asked for, not even his name!

  Never before did he resent so much who he was. Never before did he wish so much to be able to give for once, not just take.

  He brought Alyssa to her cell after the Feeding and helped her into the dress, as he always did. He couldn’t stay a little longer tonight even though he wanted to stay more than anything. He wouldn’t even be the one to pick up her empty dinner dish later.

  He had been informed by the Council that morning that he was to assist another Handler during the last course of tonight’s Feeding. He needed to leave immediately and go back to the meeting room. He hated that he couldn’t explain it to Alyssa as she turned around and looked at him with her mesmerizing eyes, the bright yellowish-green colour of which he could only compare to a field of late-summer grass flecked with gold and blue of wild flowers.

  He had finished buttoning her dress up but left his hand linger at her neck as long as he dared in the presence of the Janitors. He couldn’t tell her that he had to go. He couldn’t explain to her why he had to leave her. He couldn’t even wish her a good night. Instead, he gently squeezed the back of her neck before removing his hand and hoped that the brief warm spark of recognition inside of her meant she understood the way he felt.

  Chapter Eight. The Handler.

  He walked into the meeting room, changing his gloves quickly. He put new leather ones on; one look at the Source in the middle of the meeting room and he knew that she would prefer leather. He learned much more about her from one look at the emotions that were swirling around her. He knew that she was aroused already, that she craved intensity, that right now she would prefer her Handlers to demonstrate their power over her, and he made a mental note to be assertive when touching her.

  Alyssa liked softer touches and preferred silk velvet… His thoughts strayed to her, as they always tended to do lately.

  He forced himself to focus on the task at hand.

  The Source was suspended from the ceiling by two thick chains with a set of strong padded handcuffs at their ends. Her ankles were also in cuffs attached to shorter chains hooked to the metal rings in the floor. She could reach the floor with her toes, and the chains allowed her legs some movement. The cross he used for Alyssa stood vacant nearby. All thirteen Council members had abandoned their sitting positions and gathered closer, standing around in semicircle.

  He approached the woman meeting her eyes. Wine-red swirls of exited anticipation twirled around her when her gaze landed on him. Her Handler stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her as he adjusted little silver clamps on her nipples. She sucked in a breath ending with a moan when the cool sharp lightning of pain shot through her and then dissolved slowly into warm pools of glowing pleasure almost immediately.

  He watched her dark-violet eyes turn almost black with arousal. She threw her head back with a groan, arching her spine and pushing her breasts forward in search of more contact, more friction. He reached out and brushed his thumb across her lower lip that looked bitten and swollen. Immediately, she wrapped her lips around his thumb and sucked on the leather of his glove.

  “Fuck me… Please...” She pleaded in a low coarse voice, releasing his thumb. Hot burning need pulsated around her, threatening to suck him into the vortex of her desire.

  He could never give her exactly what she’d just asked him for, but he could make her feel good, better than good. After all, that was what he was created for.

  He looked at her Handler, waiting for a signal. They were a team now. The Handler picked up two different vibrators from the small stand nearby and kneeled in front of the Source. She bent her knee and lifted her leg as far as the chains would allow. With a soft moan she rubbed the inside of her thigh against her Handler’s bicep.

  The Handler put down both vibrators on the floor in front of him and put both of his hands on the insides of her thighs.

  He noticed that the Handler squeezed her pale flesh gently with his fingers and kneaded it as if calming or comforting her for a moment. The Handler glanced his way then. That was his cue, and he assumed his position behind the Source, lifting her breasts with his gloved hands, mindful of the clamps fastened to her nipples.

  In one forceful movement the Handler spread her thighs apart and leaned in so that his mask was only an inch or two away from the junction between her thighs. She lurched forward and rolled her hips in a futile attempt to reach the mask. The Handler picked up the slimmer vibrator and without turning it on, lightly touched her tender flesh with the tip, sliding it gently along her folds. The touch was just light enough to tease and excite, far too subtle to satisfy. She screamed in frustration a moment before the Handler pushed the vibrator inside her in one fast fluid motion. Her scream of frustration broke off, replaced by a soft contented groan.

  He watched closely the colour changes of the vortex of her passion swirling around them and plucked the clamps off her nipples just in time. White-violet sparks of pain shot through her like icicles as he rolled her nipples between his fingers. His head bent over her shoulder, and her breath hit his mask in hot, short, panting blasts. He kept his thumbs pressed to her tormented nipples and massaged them in tight little circles now, replacing the shots of pain with just as intense shots of desire. One by one.

  Beautiful, just beautiful!

  With an enormous effort, he tore his eyes away from the colourful display of the delicious energy all around him and focused his gaze on the tangled chestnut curls draped over her shoulder to distract himself. He should not take. It was not for him to take, he kept reminding himself, struggling to keep control.

  He heard the buzz of a vibrator being turned on and glanced down to her Handler, who moved the slimmer vibrator in and out of her with an increasing speed. The second vibrator – a short round one – was held in the Handler’s other hand, hovering mere millimeters from her without actually touching yet. She had slipped into a full trance by now. Her head leaned on her shoulder, with her eyes closed, she chanted under her breath: “So good. So very good… Oh God, it feels so good…”

  Feeling slightly more in control, he scanned the heady tsunami of pleasure rushing out of her towards the Council members standing all around her. He saw their eyes catch on fire as they absorbed it all with their heads tilted back, as if in prayer. He knew why the Hander was stalling: the Council didn’t want this to end too soon.

  Then he sensed her slipping a little from the highest point. The moment her Handler must have felt it too, he finally pressed the vibrating ball to where she craved it most.

  Her breath caught, and her eyes flew wide open. She screamed again as he let go of her breasts and slipped one hand to the back of her head, fisting a handful of her chestnut-coloured hair and pulled her head back with force. At the same time, he moved his other arm all the way across her chest, scraping both of her nipples with the cold bracer of his armor along the way. Then, he wrapped his hand around her throat from the front and squeezed.

  She tensed and went completely still for a fraction of a moment. He saw it before he felt it: the pulsating bursts of white-hot light coming from the very core of her like rings of fireworks following a rhythm created deep inside of her. He released her throat immediately, wrapped his arm around her waist for support, and kept the hold of her hair while she rode the marvelous waves of the seemingly endless orgasm.

  He shut his eyes firmly, feeling the delicious unattainable energy rolling all around him teasing, tempting, torturing him, making him weak in the knees. He dug his boots into the floor to remain standing.

  Eventually, the waves receded and the intense pleasure in her ebbed. The tsunami turned into a much more placid stream of warmth now, with trac
es of arousal glowing in small embers just under the surface. The Source slumped in her restraints, looking relaxed with a small, satisfied smile playing across her lips.

  Waiting for her Handler to remove her from the restraints, he wondered how long the happy feeling would last in her. It usually disappeared way too quickly in Alyssa…

  And just like that his thoughts returned to her again.

  Unable to fight the strong urge to see her, he reasoned that he could sneak into her cell just for a moment to make sure she was asleep. Maybe he could also scan her dreams quickly to check on her emotions.

  His attention was brought back to the room by Grand Master, who walked closer to the Source still suspended in chains. The eyes of Grand Master still glowed with warm orange from the sexual energy he had consumed. He raised his arm, and the wide sleeve of his white silk robe slid down, exposing the flawless brown skin of his forearm. He reached for the face of the Source and brushed a curl of the dark hair off her forehead.

  “Exquisite,” he whispered under his breath.

  He noticed that the Handler stopped in his tracks on the way to free his Source from the chains. He saw his shoulders tense and his hands move away from the cuffs he was just about to open. He knew then what the Handler must have realized too at that moment: the Source would most likely not survive the night. Any special attention from Grand Master was almost always deadly.

  “She responds well to you,” Grand Master stated impassively. “Do you care about her?” he asked then completely unexpectedly.

  The Handler hesitated. He must have realized that his answer could be a matter of life or death for his Source. Finally, he lowered his head in affirmation, unable to lie to his Grand Master.

  Calmly, Grand Master stepped back to his place a few feet away and gave the signal, “Again.”