Lust (5 page)

Elizabeth’s sleepy body shifted, no doubt a response to the weight splayed across her. The tiny horn now revealed, resembled a small, charred lump. As he looked, his laughter grew longer and louder. The other horn rose slightly above her hair, to match its tiny sister. They looked divine.

“My sweet Elizabeth, not as shy and retiring as you make yourself out to be. This proves it. Oh my sweet darlings, you confirm everything. I am so pleased.” He breathed across them. They rose a little, the hairs moving. Her body moved too, her thighs closed around his lower leg. Oh, the feel of her wetness coating his skin. He touched the left horn with a delicate fingertip. She reacted, moaning out loud. His cock grew even harder, the ridges rising, all three. The tip swelled and almost quivered within reach of her tender hairs. His thigh slid between hers, pressing against her clit and labia. Her arousal would be on fire with her clit alone. Yet the horns in their current state were more sensitive than her sweet swollen nub. He punished her body and rubbed the left horn with more pressure. She writhed. Her whole body danced with his, singing the most beautiful tune ever to be heard. The lust was rising within her. He watched as her eyes rolled beneath the lids. Her lips pursed and released, the more he rubbed. Her pussy dripped the sweet nectar. His cock almost glowed with the heat she created with her reactions. Oh, how he laughed. The rise of sensation grew in his body. His erection hurt it was so hard. He rubbed her horn, pinching it. Her body gave in. She almost rode him. Her pussy relented, squirting all over his calf.

Asmodeus came, shooting his load into her pubes. He never touched his cock. It was all her doing, the movement of her own body, teasing, tantalizing his cock into release. He grinned, moaning as his seed dripped onto her belly as he slowly softened. Rolling onto his side, a tendril of his release dragged across her hip and onto the sheet. Resting a while, he summoned the memory and then rose. He looked at her, her body covered in a thin coating of heavenly sweat, her thighs shining with a lustful juicy coated sheen.

Asmodeus showered and dressed. She slept still as he touched her hip,

“You belong to me Elizabeth Cromwell. It is your destiny.” He smiled and left, going into the kitchen.

Father Patrick, Mammon, sat at the counter, drinking coffee.

“You look happy, my lord, and somewhat refreshed.”

“I am both those, Mammon. What of the boy Jared?”

“Still in his little vineyard with his monks, my lord. No doubt worrying his little head about your evil ways.”

Asmodeus laughed as he began to prepare pans and plates for breakfast.

“Set the table for me, will you?”

“Of course. Did she succumb, did she say the words?”

“Not yet.”

Mammon set two places at the lavish dining table, created from the granite on which the house was situated. It was deep underground, yet looked perfectly normal. Out of the window could be seen a vast oasis. No one would know it was hundreds of metres below the earth. A lake glistened in the distance, surrounded by a lush landscape of trees and flowers. The sky was blue in order to keep Elizabeth calm. Asmodeus preferred hell to this vision, and he hoped Elizabeth would too, in time.

A loud scream erupted from the bedroom.

“You’re in trouble now, my lord. Which is it, which came first? The tail, the scales or the horns?”

“Horns.” Asmodeus growled deep in his throat, winking at Mammon.

“Horns, pretty little sexy horns.” Mammon growled too. “Will you let me punish her one day?”

“Oh, you want to punish my girl? Okay, I might, if she pushes me and doesn’t relent.”

“Thank you.” Mammon nodded, having laid the table, and left.

The bedroom door opened and he watched as Elizabeth stormed out, dressed only in one of his white dress shirts. Her thighs still glistened with drying come, both his and hers.

“I fucking hate you. How the fuck am I supposed to go out in public now? Look, you bastard. Look. I have fucking horns on my head.” She gave him a hard stare as she approached.

“No need to worry, Elizabeth. Only those humans with gifts, psychics and believers in the paranormal will see you. Normal humans won’t even notice.”

“Oh, and how the hell is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Why don’t you come and sit at the table? Breakfast is almost ready.”

She looked at him, glaring with those perfect eyes. The scent of eggs and warm croissants filtered across the room, seeming to put her in a relaxing trance.

“Are those─did you make those?”

“But of course. Do you doubt my talents as a cook?”

“No, it’s just-you’re behaving normal again. Why can’t you behave like this all the time?”

“Because you say no all the time.” He grinned.

Elizabeth’s mouth curled upwards. Was she actually coming round to him?

“Are these fucking things permanent?” She touched the horns.

“Not a good idea unless you want to go into a sexual fit.”

She put her hand down and pulled out the chair, sitting while watching him.

“Am I always going to end up with a dirty spasm and with your come on my belly if I touch them?”

“No, they harden and lose their sensitivity as they grow.” He lied to her and smiled.

“And why exactly have you given me them?”

He lied again. “To show you the fun you could have if you became mine.”

“You do know that will never happen, right? I have no intention of being yours, even if it means having my horrid parents lose everything.”

“If that is what it takes, sure.” He moved, coming to the table, tipping the scrambled eggs on the plate, on his own too. The croissants were placed on another. “Butter?”

“I like them as they are.”

“Me too. I like to break them open and taste the freshness.”

She looked at him, her stare softening the more he acted normal. Was it an act? He liked the way she behaved when he was normal, a man. She picked one up, breaking it in two, taking a bite.

“So, can you always be like this? I want to know why you can’t just be a man and not have all your concubines come assault me in an attempt to break my soul. Is that really going to work? No, it’s not. You can’t play with peoples’ minds. Humans are not play things, not food or entertainment; they are living beings just like you.”

“I see that now. I am sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Asmodeus. You invade my thoughts. You create visions and walk into my dreams. Having nuns suck you off while you watch me suffer, writhing on beds, masturbating to your whim. That’s control, not oh, Elizabeth, would you mind doing this for me please? You do realize if you’d come to me as you are, a handsome man, into my life, normal, asking me out for a date, you might have succeeded.”

“Really?” The thought had never crossed his mind. Is this what Lucifer did?

“Yes, really. But all you’ve made me do is feel angry and ashamed. You’ve used my body like a toy in order to make me yours. Not going to work. I don’t marry bullies.”

She tipped the plate, sending the eggs onto the floor and stormed off.

Asmodeus raised his brow as he watched her go into the wrong room. The door locked from the inside. Soon after the door rattled, then a pounding shook the hard wood. He smirked and went to rescue her.

Opening the door, he was met by a horrified Elizabeth. She pounded his chest.

“You are all depraved.”

“Oh no, we are much worse.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside.

Mammon looked at him. Samantha was laid belly down on a table, her ankles tied, legs wide, her wrists behind her back. Her head was restrained in a leather strap so it couldn’t move. Between her lips she had a red ball gag.

“I think the time has come, Mammon.”

“So soon, my lord? You please me.”

Samantha’s wrists were tied to a shiny anal hook deep inside her ass. Mammon was in her tight pussy, pounding her.

“Finish what you are doing. I’ll prepare her.”

“Prepare me, like some fucking piece of meat again. What are you going to do to me?”

“Now, now, be calm, Elizabeth. Remember this; you may become a fan of our ways once you submit to me. This isn’t some book you may have read in your naive past. This is real. Come.”

“Let me go. You are nothing but a brute, an evil, fucking brute.”

Asmodeus took her to a large wooden cross set like a large x against the wall, a St Andrew’s Cross. He had to use his strength to subdue her fight. In truth, he liked it. He tied her wrists to each top and then her ankles to the bottom. Now spread-eagled, open to all, unable to do anything, she screamed.

Asmodeus watched as Mammon came inside Samantha. He withdrew and spanked her pussy with his dripping cock. He left her restrained.

“I want you to spank her until the screaming stops,” he whispered in Mammon’s ear.

“As you wish, my lord.”

Elizabeth protested as she watched Mammon. Asmodeus took a seat and watched them both. Mammon went to a cabinet nearby and opened it, pondering no doubt on the contents. Pulling out a flogger and a wand, he went to Elizabeth. As she shouted obscenities at him, he started to flog her. First he taunted the breasts, striking one after the other, and then both at once. She screamed as he moved to her pussy, letting the leather strips strike her folds and clit. He alternated between chest and pussy, turning them red after a few minutes’ flogging.

Asmodeus was pleased with Mammon’s methods. His first in command now took the wand, pushing it hard against Elizabeth’s pussy. He continued to flog her breasts.

“A little longer, Mammon.”

“Yes, lord.”

Asmodeus wouldn’t stop. He had to show her who was boss. In his mind, he fought with himself. Her words rang out. Normal guy, save me. He sat back until Elizabeth started to sob, her body broken once more. Asmodeus stopped Mammon before she came.

“Enough.” Standing up, Asmodeus went to her spent form and untied her, catching her as she fell, in his arms. He carried her to his bedroom, lay her on the bed and left her to sleep.

––––––––

T
he feel of the buttery leather, the sharp snap as it licked over her flesh.

Arousal collided with her brain and she screamed, jerking awake.

Elizabeth's chest was heaving as her heart thundered behind the rib cage. Her world was still in a sleep place. For a moment, she thought she was dreaming. She blinked. Once, then twice. Before she realized that reality was smiling down on her, the door to her room slammed open, hitting the wall.

A breathless Jared stood in the frame of the doorway.

Elizabeth sobbed as she looked at him. She feared she was back in the house of horrors. The house of cards that were all built on lies. Asmodeus, the rat bastard, had allowed Patrick the fucked-up priest to turn her body into a living vessel of sensual pain. Jared seemed to not believe his eyes for a moment. As the world around them froze, he moved forward. Each step seemed to be a wobble before he fell onto the bed and snatched her up. She hissed as pain sizzled through her body. Everything hurt, her breasts all the way down to the still swollen nub between her legs that was left unattended to in her torture.

"Fuck, my God. I'm sorry, Bethy." He pulled her in close and cradled her in his lap.

As if just noticing the new accessory to her head, he sucked in a breath.

"No," he breathed out.

It only made Elizabeth sob that much harder. Her body shook as she allowed it all to fall on her. She'd been strong enough. She deserved a good damned cry. Her fingers clawed at his shirt, trying to get closer. If she could just absorb into him, she could hide and never be found again.

Elizabeth felt Jared's fingers under her chin. He turned her to gaze up at him. His handsome face was such mind-numbing relief.

"What the fuck did he do to you, Elizabeth?" he demanded. His voice was low, but the barely harnessed violence rumbled under the surface.

She shook her head, dropping her gaze to his chest as she fiddled with the fabric.

"You can't hide it. You can't allow him to win and be a victim."

This pissed her off. As if she didn't know any of this?

Elizabeth, through with the pity party, shoved at his chest and went to move off his lap.

"Oh, no you don't." She went to smack him away, but it shifted her shoulder the wrong way and she let out a hiss of pain.

Elizabeth dropped her arms, the ache still fresh from being bound. Tears filled her eyes. Not from self-loathing, but from the ache that was taking far too long to ease. As she drew in a deep breath, she released. Her gaze travelled up his chest and locked with his.

"He had me bound for a long time. Sexually tormenting me. Then he did that whole fake nice thing, then he was HIM again. You know, the one that tosses me to his minions for 'punishment' because I don't want to be a bitch of the devil." She scoffed. Her fingers played at the front of his shirt once more.

"When did these—" He brushed over her right horn.

It was a huge mistake.

Her body lit up like the fucking Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center. The tremble started in her fingers and shot through her body until it gathered in her swollen bud. Her nipples hard peaks, she grabbed the front of Jared's shirt and shoved him up against the headboard. Her tongue flicked from between her lips, tasting the seam of his mouth as she straddled his body. Evidence of his arousal poked right at her wet core. No barrier between her and the rough denim, she started to grind against him.

"—show up?" He finished his question on a whoosh of air.

Elizabeth knew in the back of her mind, something was very wrong with her. Yet she couldn't seem to stop. Her fingernails dug into his shirt, and feeling the fabric rend under pressure, she yanked. Jared's warm, chiseled chest was exposed and she dove in. She nipped and flicked at his nipples. Somewhere in the back of her aroused haze she heard his voice. She could even feel him trying to shove her off.

Why would he do something fucking stupid like that?

Before he could protest further, Elizabeth's fingers started to work his belt, the button of his jeans, and just as she shoved her hand down his pants, palming his hot—huge—cock, he was cupping her cheeks and pinning her with his stare.