“Please, it’s too much!”
I smirked at her assessment wryly, lifting her left hip gently and smacking the exposed cheek beneath it. “It is hardly too much,” I scolded. “Your master has not even started to enjoy you.”
She blew out a breath, the sound of defeat, as in her mind, she finally registered the inevitability of my words. She was trapped in my care now, exposed and at my mercy, and I would feast upon her sweet cunt for the rest of the day if that was what I wanted. I no longer needed Cathy’s opinion on the subject.
Settling back between her thighs, I went to work on that unsuspecting pussy, lapping at it over and over until my balls ached. One problem with this human guise was the constant need to wear clothing, and while I often liked the way it framed my body, I never appreciated the inhibitive side-effect. My cock strained to be free of the dark pants, wanting to drive into her wet folds and discover her allure for itself, but those desires would have to wait until my mouth had taken its fill. I wanted the scent and flavor of Cathy to consume all my senses until there was nothing left in the universe but her. Nothing but the heat of her body and her enticing holes. Nothing but our mutual satisfaction.
“Master.” Above me, Cathy’s thoughts were racing, alive with the weight of the contradiction she faced. Evidently, she was a smart girl. She knew she should resist me, just as she should have denied Damon, but she also acknowledged it was too late for thoughts of opposition and far too early for remorse. She was here, fettered and helpless to defy my will, and while there was clearly a part of her that loathed the reality, there was another portion of the woman that reveled in it. The part that Damon had attracted, and the same part that was insisting the futile defiance within her wither away. There was a sexual being lurking inside the moral Guardian, an animal that was hungry for more of the depravity I could offer. That was the woman who was sprawled out above me now, her fraught struggles beginning to morph into the breathy mewls of a woman who yearned, not for liberation, but for more carnality.
“You like my tongue?” I grinned at the revelation, though naturally, she could not see the gesture. “You like the wickedness of the act, I think. The way you have been brought up to think the deed is dirty and wrong. The way you want to argue, to defy the burgeoning pleasure in your brain, sending signals to your core to reject my ministrations, but the certainty that as my focus continues, that will be more and more unthinkable. This pleasure is impossible to resist, is it not, little Guardian?”
“Damn you!” She exhaled the words, any intended insult fading in the obvious need in her voice. “How can you do this to me? How can you climb into my head and understand me so well? You—the beast who has been forsaken by all that is good—how can you wield this power over me?”
I chuckled at her frantic accusations, not wishing to counter any of them. Cathy was correct on all counts. I was that beast, and I did exert that power over her. “I know it pleases you to play the innocent.” My hand rose to her sensitive flesh, stroking her wet labia as I continued. “I know it makes it easier to bear if you perceive yourself to be the victim, but neither one of us believes it is true. You yielded to Damon, just as you have to me, and for all your struggles, you crave this carnality. That is why your sweet cunt is so wet at the prospect. That is why my tongue is driving you wild.”
I crashed back into her pussy then, not waiting for her response as I slid my arms behind her cheeks and pulled her closer to my mouth. Surrounded by Cathy was an alluring place to be. With her tempting cunt at my lips and her fleshy ass at my palms, it was easy to remember all the things I adored about being earthbound. Yes, I was dealing with the matter my kin called for action on—I was taking care of the little Guardian, but I was doing it in my own, sinful way. Having watched the tiny mortal, I could not just cut her down. I had to try her for myself. I had to have her.
“You fiend!” she cried out, her back arching as she struggled to get more of my mouth, and there in her thoughts was the truth I had elaborated, the real reason for the heat that was no doubt blooming at her face. Cathy absolutely loved the way I pleasured her, the incessant rhythm of my tongue, the way my nose grazed her clit with every lap, the feeling of my large hands holding her in place—she had yearned for this treatment for longer than she cared to recall. To be debased, even though she feared it was wrong. To be held to account for her perceived shameful desires. She had adored the passion with Damon and had been bereft after I sent him away, but there would be no more loss. Now was all about what Cathy could gain. More sordid pleasure like this, more excitement, more surrender.
For as long as I wanted it.
Or, as long as I deemed it necessary.
Come for me, Cathy.
I sensed she was close to the summit, so rather than halt the deeds that were driving her closer to the precipice, I willed the words into her head, her pants coming louder and faster as she registered the command.
I know you can hear me. Feel the heat of my mouth and the unyielding pinch of the clamps. The only way this torment ceases is when you give in—when you surrender and admit your body belongs to me now. Come for me, Cathy!
“Oh, fuck.”
Her voice was strained, her tone clipped as she grappled with the enormity of my expectations, the truth in my sentiments, and the weight of the looming pleasure. Damon might have brought her pleasure before, but it had not been like this. So intense and demanding, so keen to wring every last ounce of energy from her panting form.
Yes. Even I could hear the glee in my unspoken tone as I tongued her again and again. I was so ready to claim her. So prepared to plunge deep into her body and spear her soul. That is right. Succumb to the wave of hedonism coming your way. It is yours. Yours to enjoy and yours to drown in.
Her body tensed, each and every muscle around me clenching as though she was holding her breath, and then, in one glorious moment of release, the climax peaked, bursting over her like a raincloud releasing the burden of its water.
“Oh!” She gasped the word as she plummeted from the powerful precipice. “Oh, my God!”
I sniggered, continuing to lap at the tasty little cunt that pressed itself my way, seeking the ongoing friction that had ultimately toppled her greedy little clit into tremor after tremor of desire. So, she called for her God now, did she? This, of all moments, seemed the most ironic one to seek his approval, but unlike earlier, the idea no longer troubled me. Perhaps I would use it to beat her with. Maybe it could become the perfect muse for punishing that wonderful little ass, but the thought did not concern me.
Let Cathy call for her deities. They would not hear her, and even if, for some unfathomable reason, her God was listening, he would never dare to take me on. There was only one god in Cathy’s life now, and that was the one stretched out between her thighs. With a satisfied grin, I wiped away her arousal with the heel of my hand before I climbed to my knees and loomed over her.
It was time for this god to get his oats.
Chapter Fifteen
Cathy
It was over. Any thought of resistance abandoned at the enormity of the carnality he delivered. It had, it seemed, all been decided for me, my life taking a tangent I had never seen coming, but now I was here, wrapped in the bondage of his unseen restraints, his lips burning into my body, I wasn’t even sure I cared. This was my lot, then, a mortal coil as Satan’s mistress, and even though my conscience insisted I should care, I found I did not.
Just as I wrestled with the thought, another powerful wave of pleasure crashed over me, sending my hips rising to meet the temptation of his mouth once more.
“Oh!” I cried out. “Oh, my God!”
Fleetingly, a muted section of my brain called for alarm in the face of my error. Hadn’t Satan already punished me for calling God’s name before? Wasn’t that how I ended up bound here for so long in the first place? Yet there hadn’t been any choice in the heat of the moment, His name the only rational uttering I could manage in the face of such intensity. For a se
cond, I tensed, waiting to see how he would react, but it was only the sound of his laughter that met my hammering heart, and not the cold, evil kind that sent chills through me, but that warm, amused resonance that almost fooled me into thinking he was human.
He rose between my legs like some sort of dark god, one eyebrow cocked as he wiped my excitement from his mouth. Gasping, I shook my head in disbelief. Had any man I’d laid eyes on ever been more alluring than this? Had any glint I’d witnessed in a man’s eyes lulled me into ceding more than Satan’s? The answer as he climbed up the length of my outstretched body, was obvious. They had never even come close to this, to the devilishly handsome visage, the honed body, or the dangerous glint in his gaze. That was why there had never been anyone before Damon, why no mortal man had ever roused my interest. I had always considered myself to be immune to the lure of lust. Not so much chaste, as better than those who chased those salacious needs, but staring up into Satan’s knowing eyes now, I acknowledged I had been wrong. I had never been better than those who indulged in sins of the flesh. I’d only been naïve, unaware of the sacred bliss I was missing out on, ignorant of the magic in intoxicating caresses.
Now, I knew better.
“How was that, Cathy?”
Had he actually said those words aloud? It took a moment for my brain to register the audible instruction, his prior requests resounding around my head though his lips had never made them.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
His face hovered over me now, his expression amused by my reply. Each of his hot breaths was reminiscent of the one and only time I’d explored my own body, the scent of my own arousal flowing over me, compelling a hot blush to bloom at my cheeks.
Oh, dear God, no. I squeezed my eyes closed at the ignominy. Not only had he pleasured me in this crudest and fantastic way, bringing me to the most incredible orgasm of my life, but now I was forced to acknowledge the act as he loomed, ever-present, over me.
“I thought I had made my feelings clear on the subject of your God?” He glowered down at me, and I gulped at the way his lips curled. “And yet still it is he you long for?”
“I’m sorry, Master.”
The apology poured from my lips, though I wasn’t certain the sentiment was genuine. All I did know was I was rueful to have upset him so soon after the glorious high, and I was surprised at how easily it came to me, a woman usually far too proud to consider expressing regret.
Satan shook his head. “No more chances, little Guardian. You will acknowledge me as your master in deeds as well as words from now on, or you shall pay the price.”
“Y-yes, Master.”
I nodded, the intensity of his stare drying my throat, though I hadn’t realized I was thirsty until that moment. The urge to call on God had been nothing more than a reflex, an impulse learned over time. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in Him—in my own way, I did—but I’d been raised in a quasi-pagan culture, where ancient beliefs about the environment around us and the natural world merged with Christianity. I had never attended mass by choice, only when Sevvy had forced my hand, and when clergy had come to our house, I’d always shied away. The presence of God was a given, but not something I dwelled on. My faith centered on the light that glowed within me, and as I grew, how I could use it to bloom and protect the souls of others. Few thoughts of God ever entered my head at all—until Satan. Now it seemed whenever he pushed me toward the stars, it was God’s name that burst into my mind, but what should one say when they reached the heights of sexual ecstasy?
What was it the atheist screamed out if they could not call to God?
His expression relaxed, and all at once, I realized he’d been in my head again, listening to my thoughts. “You would be surprised, I think,” he mused with a nefarious smile. “Many of those so-called non-believers still insist on calling the same monolithic entity. It is most bemusing.”
“It must be instinctive,” I murmured, unable to gaze away from that scintillating look in his eyes. I had never known black could be so multi-faceted before, never seen so many layers of the hue, but gazing into his orbs now, I knew better. He wore the simmering shade with a style and authority that seemed to speak directly to the ache between my legs.
“Perhaps.” Lowering his body, he pressed into my flesh, nudging the clamps that still bit into my nipples, though since the illustrious high, I hardly seemed to even notice the pressure. “And now, the question beckons, what to do with the beautiful captive Guardian I have at my command.”
His brow rose as though he was contemplating his options, but somehow, I could not get past his analysis.
“Captive?” I whispered the word. “Is that what I am?”
“Is it not?” he countered. “Are you not restrained to the bed I conjured, naked and subservient to my demands?”
I drew my lip between my teeth at his assessment, painfully aware that it was true. Whatever the reasons I perceived for my fate, it remained the same, and I was, as he said, subservient as he loomed over me, the logical consideration about what came next—about what I wanted next—simmering between us, chemistry neither one of us could deny.
“On second thoughts, there is no need to answer.” His lips twitched at my hesitation. “We both know what you are and why you find yourself here. There is little to be gained in reiterating the point.”
“Not for me, anyhow.”
He laughed at that, lowering his head until his lips grazed mine again. “Taste yourself on my lips,” he ordered. “Forget all else.”
“I cannot,” I gasped, but my resistance, it seemed, was all the more futile now the weight of his gaze was so close to my flesh, his stare drilling into me, willing me to give in on this one, final matter.
Though even as my resolve faded and my lips parted to receive him, I knew this was not the final matter. There could never be an end game with a master as supreme as Satan. He would take what he wanted, plunder me with authority, and despite his assertion that he had no will to destroy me, if I wasn’t careful, there could be nothing left of me—of Cathy Bateman—at all.
“Hush.” He breathed the command into my flesh, his tongue—that same tongue that had delivered such gratification—snaking into my mouth a moment later to demand my capitulation.
Do you taste it? There he was again, back in my head, and even as his unseen forces kept me pinioned and his body wooed me, that was the most disconcerting point of all—the fact that he could help himself to my thoughts whenever it suited him. He could use them to conspire against me or to validate whatever whim he fancied. It was such an intrusion of privacy, so maddening, and yet, like all the rest of his authority, now that I had opened the door to him, there was nothing I could do about it. Can you taste your arousal on my lips, on the tongue that lapped at your cunt?
I panted at the questions echoing in my head, unable to prevent the sense of him in me and on me. Unable to fight him off and yet, at the same time, unwilling to consider any outcome where I didn’t cede, where he didn’t take me and make me succumb to him.
The irrefutable truth was there at my core, taunting me—I did want him. I coveted his attention in the same way I’d yearned for Damon’s, in the same way, I’d melted under Satan’s touch and exploded at the insistent caress of his tongue. Whoever this wanton woman that he and Damon had unlocked was, she was a tangible part of me now, and someone I simply wasn’t prepared to give up.
“Can you taste it?” He drew away, only an inch from me, though I was bereft without the warmth of his exploring lips.
“Yes,” I murmured. “Yes, Master.”
It was true, that same distinctive taste I had known only once when, as a younger woman, I had slipped my hands between my legs and tasted the arousal conjured by my base fantasies, permeated my senses. That musky flavor curling my toes as his lips swooped again.
Good. His gaze drilled into me as he sent the word. How does it make you feel?
I had to wait for the passion of our lips
to cease before I could answer.
“Ashamed,” I whispered, though bizarrely, there seemed less embarrassment admitting the fact to him than I might have expected.
His brow furrowed. “Shame?” he repeated. “Why on earth do you feel indignity at your own pleasure? What could be more natural than the heights your body soared to with just a little help from your demon master?”
I closed my eyes at the question, needing to block out his knowing gaze in order to find the right response. What was it about climaxing that released such disgrace in my mind? I couldn’t be sure. No specific incident as a younger person sprung to mind that would be the probable curse of the connection, yet it seemed I had learned to associate my pleasure with dishonor.
“I don’t know, Master,” I conceded in the end. “That’s the truth.”
“You mortals never fail to amaze me with your neverending pursuit of masochism. You have been born with this incredible ability to receive and garner hedonism, yet what do you do with such a gift? Do you revel in it, tutoring your body until you know how to meet your needs to perfection?” He chuckled. “No, you repress these most basic of urges and attach negativity to them to ensure you stay away.”
Blinking up at him, I realized he was right. The lord of all perdition he may be, but to his credit, he had summated my personal history of sexual exploration to perfection.
“I will help you shift away from shame,” he promised, nudging my thighs wider with his knees. “I will ensure you embrace the gratification you are gifted. The shame is not necessary, Cathy, unless you…”
His words trailed away, and for a moment, his chin lifted higher, taking the luscious lips I sought beyond the grasp of my mouth. Raising my head, I skimmed my lips against the stubble of his jaw, frustrated I could do nothing more to engage him. My hands were still compelled above my head, my legs wide, and now, there wasn’t even the succor of his lips on offer as consolation.
Damn Me: A Paranormal Demon Romance (The Demonology Series Book 4) Page 10