Demon Lust

by Raisa Greywood

“All right, Mr. President. What do you suggest we do about the Constitution? They want us to draft a new one.”

  “Ignore it.” The bottle made its way around the table and he drained it. “They want a caliphate. That’s their picture of an ideal government. I suggest we give them one.”

  Ruth watched, sickness and anger growing as they hammered out the Newmerica Testament. The video ended when they reduced women to possessions and breeding stock.

  She ejected it and reached for the second, her hands shaking with rage. A slip of paper fell free and she picked it up.

  Watch the last one, Ruth, then go back.

  Chapter 11

  The fruit of knowledge is a sin. Free your mind of the Devil’s whispers, and allow only the Lord’s word to consume your thoughts.

  Laws 19:2

  The video was a play from over a century before the wars. An entertainment set to music, but cuttingly astute. If it was true, it made a mockery of the origins of Newmerica.

  Molasses to rum to slaves, indeed. Ruth hissed out an angry breath and got to her feet, too furious to sit still.

  But she had to. She had to learn all of it.

  She watched the other videos of those seven men, her rage growing as they set their appalling plans into motion.

  It was corn to bourbon to slaves in Leviticus City, formerly known as Louisville, Kentucky. Damned by their complicity and ignorance, the citizens perpetuated this sin.

  The mines provided coal for electricity. Five percent of the population, dissidents, the mentally handicapped, and anyone else who didn’t bow to the regime dug the black mineral from unyielding stone.

  Another five percent were set up for failure. Twelve hundred people, mostly women, brought to judgment and convicted of spurious crime every year to feed their ever-growing greed.

  And never seen again.

  Newmerica did have a second export, aside from bourbon. Like the Ivory Coast of Africa, Newmerica’s cash crop was slaves. Instead of wood-hulled sailing ships, slavers used cargo planes to supply private buyers and brothels all over the world.

  This wasn’t godly. It wasn’t the Lord’s word. It was a vile perversion of His tenets.

  And for what? The comfort of seven men? Seven men who starved their people of knowledge, grace, and kindness to line their own fucking pockets.

  Control the women, control the population. Educate them just enough to function, but not enough to think. Take away their innocence and their agency. Whisper sweet words of depravity into men’s heads.

  Ruth threw the remote across the room and screamed her fury to an uncaring god. Panting heavily, she looked for something else to destroy, but couldn’t bring herself to ruin the shelved books.

  Was this unceasing anger her penance? Did Gabriel give her this knowledge to exacerbate her helplessness against the Servants of the Lord?

  Would she be sent back to Leviticus City, and be forced to live amongst those blessed innocents, knowing what she’d learned? Would she be loaded on one of those cargo planes instead?

  She screamed again and grabbed a lamp. Ripping the cord away, she sent it crashing through a window. “I will not!” she shouted.

  “The path to enlightenment is paved with broken dreams, sweet girl.”

  Reverend Gabriel retrieved the remote from the floor and turned off the television.

  “Where will I be sent?” she hissed as she whirled to face him. “If I’m to be a whore in truth, tell me where.”

  “Where do you want to go?” He went to a low cupboard and retrieved a bottle along with two glasses. Filling both with brown liquid, he brought them to her and held one out. “Have a drink. You look like you could use one.”

  Ruth barked out a sharp laugh. “Where do I want to go? Good question, since I don’t know what other countries still exist.”

  She took the glass and drank it down. Her eyes widened as her lungs seized. It felt like she’d drunk all the fires of Hell distilled into a few ounces of liquid. Her head swam and she coughed, pounding her chest to try to get her breathing started again.

  “What was that?” she gasped.

  “Bourbon, bottled in 1985.” He glanced sadly at her glass, and added, “It’s the last of that barrel. I wish you could have enjoyed it.”

  “I’m sorry.” The fire smoothed out into warmth radiating through her chest, and she tasted faint notes of smoke and cherries. It was actually rather nice, certainly different from the reconstituted milk she’d drunk for most of her life. She felt horrible that she’d wasted it.

  “Here,” he said, refilling her glass, “try again, but sip it this time.”

  She took a drink to be polite, rolling it in her mouth before swallowing. She tasted more cherries and other things she couldn’t identify. Now that she’d gotten used to the burn, Ruth decided she liked it.

  Sighing heavily, she sat on the couch. “Why are you asking where I want to go?”

  “Simple curiosity.” He sat next to her, resting his elbows on his knees. “You could go to London, or Paris. Madrid is always lovely.

  “I’ve never heard of those places.”

  “I know, and that’s a sad thing.”

  Despite the warmth filling her and making her head fuzzy, Ruth felt her patience seep away. “Why should it matter where I go?” she asked. “If I’m to be a whore, I don’t think I’ll care.”

  “You’re not going to be a whore. Well, not unless you want to be.” He sipped from his glass, peering at her over the rim with mocking eyes. “Besides, I’d rather keep you for myself.”

  “Would that make me less a whore?”

  “You are what you decide to be, Ruth. Don’t put labels on things you don’t understand,” he said softly. “You can make a great deal of money as a prostitute and become richer than the Servants.”

  “I don’t want to be richer than the Servants!” she snapped. “I want to take away their power and expose their sins! I want to—”

  “What would you do to make that happen?” he interrupted.

  “Well, I’d go back to the city and shout it on every street. I’d go to the Holy Houses and…” Ruth’s voice trailed off and she squeezed her eyes shut to hold back her tears.

  No one would listen to her. She’d be arrested the minute she approached the city gates, and she wouldn’t be sent to Purgatory. Mentally ill people were sent to the mines, lest their madness affect the populace.

  She held out her glass for more bourbon, staring at the brown liquor trickling into her glass as she pondered the question. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “I can’t go back to the city to spread the word. If I tried to bring copies of the videos you showed me, the Sentinels would destroy them before I could share them.”

  “All of that is true,” Gabriel replied.

  Ruth stood and walked to the window. The sun was setting, darkening the woods with shadow. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I can do, much less what would be helpful. It gains the people of Leviticus City nothing if I waste the opportunity.”

  She turned around and asked, “Why are you helping me? Why haven’t you punished me as you said you were going to?”

  He lifted his glass in a toast and said, “Now, you’re asking better questions. I didn’t say I was going to punish you. I said I had a better idea.”

  Fuming, she glared at him. “You gave me knowledge that would see us both crucified in Punishment Square. Why?”

  “Another very good question.” He rose and crossed the room to stand next to her. “Do you know why it took nearly five years for you to be arrested?”

  Ruth frowned. “No. And how did they know how many times I self-raped?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “You masturbated, Ruth. It’s a perfectly normal activity. You didn’t ring anyone’s doorbell, nor did you do anything wrong. Trust me, if you’d rung my doorbell, I’d have answered and put on a pot of tea.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” she replied, trying to hide her discomfort at his frank talk. She wanted t
o argue, but didn’t dare contradict him. What did she know? She was just a woman, and wasn’t privy to the meaning behind the Lord’s word.

  “Clever lady,” he murmured. “They’ve been watching you. They wanted to arrest you after the first time, but Abraham made them wait until you had amassed a sufficient enough total that he could make you into an example.”

  Ruth’s knees buckled and she’d have fallen if Gabriel hadn’t caught her. Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her back to the couch and sat with her in his lap.

  He stroked her back, his hands warm and soothing against her bare skin. Ruth couldn’t remember being so comforted, not even when she’d been a child. She thought she ought to cry, but her eyes were dry, burning with tears that wouldn’t fall.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Reverend Gabriel said, tipping her chin up with a gentle finger. “You’re safe.”

  He kissed her forehead, his lips so soft against her skin that she leaned into his embrace, his strong arms keeping her from flying apart.

  And then he was kissing her mouth, gently, but ardently. She tasted the bourbon on his lips and swept out her tongue for more of that enticing flavor. He let out a soft growl, his arms tightening as he deepened their kiss.

  Her pussy tightened, the rhythmic pulsing of her flesh making her whimper into his mouth. She felt like one of the women in the carvings, loved and cherished, even though she knew she wasn’t worthy of such care.

  He pulled away, letting out a soft groan as he touched her swollen lip with a thumb. “You tempt me more than I’m trying to tempt you, little one,” he whispered. “But our guest is arriving very soon.”

  Chapter 12

  Your wife is your possession, and submissive to your rule. Guide her well so that she doesn’t descend into sin.

  Laws 15:4

  Gabriel led Ruth down the long hallway once more. Funny, but the carved images on the walls no longer affected her.

  Would it be so bad to stay with him? Now that her eyes had been opened and she knew the kind of men who held her obedience in Leviticus City, she began to think about good and evil. What did she believe? Was Gabriel inherently evil because he called himself demon? Did being human make the Servants good, despite their greedy perversions?

  How could she justify staying with a demon?

  Quite easily. You were quick enough to fall into his bed.

  They stopped at another door. Before he opened it, he tipped up her chin and kissed her forehead. “Remember what I told you, Ruth. You need only obey and meet our guest’s every wish.”

  She nodded, her guts churning with nerves. He’d never told her who their guest was. Would it be another demon? Gabriel didn’t frighten her, at least not very much, but the thought of meeting another like him made her knees shake.

  Opening the door, he ushered her into a beautiful dining room. The table was set with glittering crystal and china, and trays of food were already set out on a buffet. It was more food than she’d ever seen in one place, and the abundance set her teeth on edge.

  Although no one in Leviticus City ever went hungry, the sheer waste irritated her. There was enough on the buffet to feed her entire family for a week, and Gabriel had set it out for three people.

  Pressing her lips together, she scanned the room for their guest. A man stood at the window, his back to her. When he turned to face them, she bit back a gasp of dismay.

  “Ah, there she is,” the familiar gravelly voice said. “The fallen woman in all her finery.”

  Ruth’s feet stalled and she nearly stumbled as Servant Abraham walked toward her. Gabriel’s hand tightened on her arm, preventing escape.

  Where would she have gone? There was no retreat open to her now. She lifted her chin, determined to face the Servant without fear, although she knew Gabriel would do nothing to stop Abraham from hurting her. He’d already said as much. She was astute enough to read the unspoken meaning behind his order to obey.

  “Your work is exemplary as usual, Gabe,” Abraham said, tugging her forward and away from Gabriel. He circled her like a dog cornering a rat. “Pity the whip cuts didn’t leave much scarring. I thought the Disciplinarians did a better job on her.”

  “I prefer a pristine canvas. There’s no point in ruining a beautiful woman when many could enjoy her.”

  Abraham sniffed and his face wrinkled into a scowl. “True,” he replied. “But it’s only been three days. It would have been nice to see a few more marks on her.” He circled her again. “Have you broken her in properly? Virgins scream too much for my taste.”

  “Would I disappoint you?” Gabriel asked.

  Abraham laughed and stroked her back. “Yes, if you thought you could get away with it.”

  Ruth tried to hide her fear. It wouldn’t help her, and she didn’t want to give Abraham the satisfaction. She couldn’t call Gabriel Reverend because he wasn’t. And she refused to give Abraham an honorific when he didn’t deserve it.

  And she couldn’t decide whether to be angry or frightened. Abraham would hurt her, and he would try his best to humiliate her, too. It was her penance.

  For what? According to Gabriel, she’d done nothing wrong. Why was she paying penance for something that wasn’t a crime? But it was a prohibited activity in Leviticus City, and that was enough to damn her.

  She bit her lip and clenched her hands into fists as Abraham pulled the zipper of her dress down, the hiss of metal loud over his panting breath in her ear.

  Gabriel shoved his hands in his pockets, impassive and unapproachable as Abraham shoved the dress low around her hips and let it fall to the floor.

  Abraham slapped her bottom, sending her stumbling forward. “Bring me food, whore,” he ordered.

  “Shall we sit?” Gabriel asked. “I have some excellent wine you might want to try.”

  They walked to the table, leaving Ruth seething and helpless to prevent Abraham’s abuse. She approached the buffet, her eyes narrowing at the thick slices of beef, fluffy whipped potatoes, and winter vegetables. There were golden brown rolls in a basket, along with a glass dish of butter.

  Her father had bought beef once. Her mother had cut away the mold, leaving a few ounces of meat she’d boiled into stew. It had fed all of them for a week, and they’d been thankful for the bounty.

  For a very brief moment, she considered spitting in it.

  Her hands shaking, she put a few slices of meat on a plate, adding potatoes and vegetables until it was full. Trying to control her disgust, she carried it to the table and set it in front of Abraham.

  Ignoring her, he picked up a fork and started to eat. He didn’t even wait long enough to give a blessing, the filthy pig. Her revulsion grew as she made a plate for Gabriel.

  When she set the plate in front of him, he gave her a brief nod and said, “Bring us the bread basket, then refill our wine, Ruth.”

  She wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t offered her a plate. It was another way to put her in her place in front of their guest. It was just as well. She didn’t think she could stomach a bite of the sickening excess on that buffet.

  She kept their plates and glasses full for the next hour, her shame and anger burning deep, but hidden behind a placid expression.

  Abraham’s face grew red from the wine he’d drunk, beads of sweat popping on his lined forehead. His hands wandered freely, pinching and fondling when she came too close. She bit back a pained squeal as he ground his thumb into the piercing hanging over her clit, the burn against her dry flesh making her wince.

  “More wine, Ruth,” Gabriel ordered, holding out his glass.

  She backed away from Abraham and took the glass, thanking Gabriel in her thoughts, if not in words, for the reprieve.

  “And more meat for me,” Abraham said, too loudly.

  As she leaned over to get Abraham’s plate, he pulled her close and sucked her nipple into his mouth. His thick tongue felt like a slug against her skin and she swallowed hard to control her nausea. Why did it feel so different when Gabriel did i
t?

  He sucked hard enough to hurt, then pulled away, releasing her breast with a pop of sound. “Delicious. I can’t wait to taste the rest of you.” Slapping her hip, he added, “Go get my food, whore.”

  Gritting her teeth, Ruth obeyed, watching with irritation when Abraham cut the meat into small pieces. He didn’t eat any of it, seeming perfectly content to waste it.

  Gabriel looked at him with a sardonic expression and said nothing. Abraham had been too intent on his meal and on tormenting her to pay attention, but Ruth had watched Gabriel. Although food disappeared from his plate, and he had her refill his glass several times, she’d never caught him actually consuming anything. Maybe demons didn’t eat.

  To her surprise, Abraham set the plate of cut meat on the floor and snapped his fingers. Pointing at it, he said, “Come eat your supper, whore. You’ll need your strength.”

  Ruth opened her mouth to refuse, but a hard glance from Gabriel stalled the words on her tongue. Her body rebelling with every step, she trudged toward that wretched plate and dropped to her knees.

  “No hands, “Abraham snapped. “We can’t have those pure, sinless hands of yours touching anything, can we?”

  She bent forward, putting her face into the plate. Every bite was ash in her mouth, choking her with humiliation. But she finished the whole reeking meal, wondering if she dared throw it up in his lap.

  The punishment would be worth it.

  Chapter 13

  Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot. Burning for burning, wound for wound, stripe for stripe.

  Exodus 21:24-25

  Ruth finished her meal and straightened as Gabriel and Abraham talked. She hadn’t been ordered to do anything else, and took the brief respite gratefully. Her stomach churned over the mass of unpalatable meat, making her wonder if she’d hold it inside her long enough to make it to Abraham’s lap before she was ill.

  Abraham stood, patting his abdomen as he let out a wet belch. “Good food, Gabe. You always put out the best meals.”