Intro: Demon’s Slave (18+)

Demon’s Slave

Note on Demon’s Slave: This excerpt contains graphic BDSM sex, including forceful oral sex, bondage, blindfolding, slapping/spanking, collaring, nipple clamps, verbal obloquy, and rough vaginal sex. Reader discretion is advised.

I have begun work on my first BDSM erotica tale, something a lot of my fans are asking for.

The most explicit work I have undertaken yet, this story offers a glimpse into the private life of my most popular hero and heroine when Rose offers Skriker the ultimate birthday gift for his “Dirty 30”: she will be his devoted sexual slave for three days and three nights, laying aside her angelic pride to fully commit to his pleasure (and hers) with every part of her being.

“Call me sir, angel.”

“Skrike—”

He slapped her cheek lightly, making her scarred flesh sting, and she gasped.

“Sir, Rose.”

Her breath caught in her throat; that thrill was there, building slowly in the pit of her belly, flooding her heart and head. Sir. The word made her heart flutter with forbidden excitement.

She felt his big hand reach around and take a thick fistful of her hair, jerking her head back; her scalp burned as her hair was mercilessly tugged. She could taste his breath as his lips hovered near hers: Camel Turkish Gold cigarettes and sweet wine…and something beneath that.

Fire. Her preternatural senses, heightened even more by her intense sexual arousal, could smell, even taste, the fire that lived in him, dark and hot and Hellish. That angel living within her screamed; she slammed the door in her mind on it to shut out its cries.

Skriker’s jade eyes glittered greedily. “You will call me Sir, angel. I will accept nothing else.”

“Yes…Sir.”

She felt his tongue snake along her lips and her mouth opened eagerly to his. His kisses were forceful, rough, and hungry, and she responded in kind. Still gripping a fistful of her hair, he pushed her mouth harder against his, lapping and sucking, pulling her full lower lip into his mouth and nibbling at the sensitive flesh. When he drew away from her she was panting, sweat standing out on her brow in hot wet droplets.

Skriker released her hair and wrists and gripped her arms, jerking her up off of the floor. He lifted her up as easily as he would a child, marching into his bedroom with her flung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Skriker’s big platform bed dominated the center of the room, large and plushly appointed with piles of pillows and expensive bedclothes, including a satin spread, all in masculine shades of dark gray and red.

He dumped Rose into the center of it and stood over her, smirking as she lay staring up at him, her body bubbling over with excitement and, yes, even trepidation. She had promised to be his sexual servant for three days and three nights; the greatest birthday gift she could have ever offered.

He would possess her as a master does his slave, free to do as he wished with her angel’s flesh; a demon’s true delight. What he had thought up—what he had planned—she could only guess. He was a master of pleasure, and she had to assume, some of that had to cross into pain. It was only natural for one of his kind.

“Spread your legs and pull those sweet panties aside. I want to see it…now.”

Rose did as she was told, her heart pounding. She slipped a hand between her spread thighs and hooked her long fingers into the black thong she had worn just for this occasion, twisting the flimsy fabric aside, revealing the plump dark pink lips of her pussy, already slick with eager fluids. Skriker folded his arms and grinned, shaking his head.

“Well, look at that. Already dripping wet. You’re a naughty, slutty angel, you know that? Getting all drenched over a Halfling…you like breaking the rules, don’t you, whore?”

Rose did; fuck yes, she did! She was so used to being powerful, being dominant; hell, when she had met Skriker, she had tried to kill him and had almost succeeded. She was a Nephil, the firstborn in millennia and the last on earth—a true princess among the supernatural peasants. And now she found herself in his bed, a beaded silk mask obscuring half her face, ready to obey any command her lover spat at her. He’d called her a whore, a slut.

And, shit, she was enjoying the hell out of it.

Skriker pointed a tattooed finger at her. “Take off your corset. Slowly.”

Rose obeyed, her long fingers languidly unsnapping each satin-coated button until her breasts tumbled free. She instantly saw the hunger in his eyes deepen, noticed the bulge of his package straining against the front of his jeans. She knew that he worshipped her magnificent rack, always had; old Skrike was a tit man, sure enough.

She felt a surge of power rise up within her and briefly wondered if he would melt for her as he so often did when she presented herself to him. Would the roles suddenly be switched; would her femme allure conquer him once again and playfully ruin his birthday fun? She felt a wave of disappointment wash over her, unexpected and bitter, to think it could be so.

In the end, she was delightfully incorrect on that assumption. Skriker, still standing with his legs slightly spread and his head raised proudly, barked another command, and she was deliciously helpless to disobey.

“Come to the end of the bed, angel. That’s right…crawl to me. Up on your knees.”

Rose kneeled up for him and he grabbed her right breast, roughly massaging and squeezing the full firm globe, his callused fingers pulling and twisting her bullet-hard nipple. She squealed and bucked lightly as he seized her other breast and gave it the same treatment, pinching and rolling its tip between thumb and forefinger, at first light, then harder and stronger.

“You want it so badly, don’t you, angel,” Skriker breathed, his face bending near hers, his breath a ragged butterfly’s kiss against her lips. She nodded, sweat already trickling down her face, dripping onto her reddened bare breasts as he manhandled them. He slapped them once, twice, sharp cracks that made her wince and squeal.

She was drenched down there; her thong was simply soaked through with hot vaginal juices. Skriker pressed his mouth to hers again, his kisses hard and brutal as he slapped and pinched her throbbing breasts a few more times.

“You’re not going to come until I say you can, baby,” he whispered against her mouth. “You’re going to have to beg for it…and I’m going to have to see how generous I feel. Angel sluts must beg to come, got it? You earn it tonight, Rosie.”

Rose nodded wordlessly, trembling; he kissed her once more, a little softer this time, before pushing three fingers into her mouth, forcing it farther open.

“I know you like demon cock,” he breathed as he unzipped his bulging trousers, and, oh, what he pulled out was magnificent, what he jerked in his fist nearly made her come right there. His cock was surely proof that the Maker, on some level, wanted her to be happy; a ten-inch long, rock-hard, thicker than hell chunk of gristle that was the penile culmination of every woman’s wildest desires.

Skriker released her mouth and his hand snaked around, grasping a fistful of her dark curls for the second time.

“Tell me you like demon cock, angel.” His fist was beating that thick, glorious stick of meat, making her nearly reel with desire.

“I like demon cock, Sir.”

His eyes glittered, and she saw pinpricks of orange fire shimmering in their emerald depths. “How much?”

She shuddered, forcing the shameful words out. “Too much.”

He sighed as he forced her head down and pushed the big snubbed head of his dick into her maw. “No, not too much. Never too much…suck, baby. Swallow that motherfucker for your Master…”

Rose took him deep, sucking and licking, relishing the velvety smoothness of his rod as it slipped against the soft walls of her mouth. Her tongue lapped at the sensitive underside, feeling it harden and swell; Skriker had begun to buck his hips, pushing his tool deeper into her throat, his breathing growing ragged.

She swallowed him, her throat opening, feeling him push as deep as he could fit. She contracted her throat muscles, massaging the head of his dick with a whore’s skill until he was really rocking, sliding in and out of her mouth as his grip on her hair tightened. Beads of sweat trickled down his rippling torso; his tattooed flesh gleamed in the low lamplight as he fed his fat tool to her, hump after hump.

“Look at me while I fuck your face, angel,” he breathed, and Rose locked her gaze with his as he guided her head back and forth, moving his cock in and out with liquid smoothness, his fingers laced through her locks. She could feel him nearing the edge, hear his breath growing more rapid and ragged, and briefly, she wondered if he would blow his load right here and it would all be over.

And then Skriker jerked his dick out of her mouth, pulling a long string of thick saliva with it, releasing her hair simultaneously.

“Nope,” he panted. “Not there yet. We’ve got a lot more to do. Go lie down, Rose. On your back with your legs spread…there’s a good slut.”

Once again, she obeyed, her heart pounding with anticipation as she turned and crawled to the head of the bed; Skriker gave her a punctuating smack across the ass as she moved away, making her flinch.

As she turned over and lay back against his pillows, she saw him stroll across the room, his erect dick bobbing in front of him as he opened a drawer and pulled out two lengths of red silk rope, a long black velvet scarf, a small black leather cat o’ nine tails, and what appeared to be a strange chain-and-clamp contraption—nipple clamps. He had certainly prepared for this night, just as he’d promised he would.

Her anticipation was at an all-time high when he came back and crawled across the bed to her, dumping his erotic arsenal on the bedspread. Rose whimpered; her genitals were on luscious fire, throbbing wet and eager for a pampering, just what he was always ready to give her. But he was taking his time, dammit…then again, that is what he had promised this time.

He would make her beg, as she had never begged before. She snaked her hand down and rubbed at her throbbing clit, and suddenly Skriker grabbed the small cat o’ nine tails and lashed the long black leather fronds across her breasts, leaving dark red marks athwart her tender flesh. Rose bucked upward, squealing in excited pain.

“Did I tell you that you could touch yourself, whore?” he hissed as he seized her wrist and bent it painfully back; as a Nephil, her strength was superhuman, and she could easily have torn away from him, done damage to him.

But this brutal loving was everything she had been dreaming of when she had proposed this to him, and the thrill was enough to make her crazy. She wanted him to brutalize her; wanted this half-demon scum to ravage her in every way possible.

“You lie still and be a good angel bitch,” he commanded. He seized both her arms and tied each wrist to the bars of his headboard, lashing them securely with the silk rope. She twisted beneath him, enjoying the sensual roughhousing.

“Please…” she whimpered, and he backhanded her, hard enough to make her head rock.

“No,” he growled. “Shut up, Rose. You’ll wait for it…or you won’t get it at all.”

Out came the nipple clamps, and trepidation flooded her heart and belly. Skriker held the chain and hitch up, winking at her as he rattled the pretty silver toy over her sweat-slicked torso.

“Do you want to please your demon Master?”

Rose found herself nodding wildly. “Yes…”

“Yes what, angel?”

“Yes…Sir.”

Her nipples were already hard as bullets and the rubber-coated clasps slipped easily over them, coming to bite her just below the base of each turgid throbbing tip. Rose squealed shrilly at the sweet pinching agony. Skriker took the silver hitch and pushed it against her lips; she opened her mouth and gripped it in her teeth at his command.

He jerked her head back and the chain pulled on the clamps, lifting her breasts lusciously high. Tears welled in her eyes at the sweet agony, black streaks of mascara painting her cheeks as her nipples were stretched to the point that she thought they would snap from her body.

“Good girl,” Skriker hissed. “You stay like that…”

He began to slap her breasts again, each smack causing the full heavy globes to jiggle and her nipples to be deliciously tweaked. Rose shrieked through gritted teeth; each sensation her lover inflicted sent jolts of electric pleasure plummeting down to her clit and dripping cunt, and she humped the empty air, her hips thrusting upward. She stared at him with tear-filled ocean-and-earth eyes and he shook his head, grinning.

“Nope. I’ll work your pussy over when I’m damned good and ready…so quit your begging. You’re an embarrassment to your kind. You Nephilim are supposed to be tough…”

He slapped her tits a few more times, rocking them, berating her playfully as he did it, his dick a massive pulsating exclamation point rising from its thick patch of pale blond pubic hair.

“Bad Angel,” he hissed, and his eyes suddenly blazed with hot hellfire; Rose knew he was doing it on purpose, egging her instincts on, and making her hotter and more desperate for the sin of him. “You know you are a traitor, loving that demon cock. You deserve this torment, deserve this pain…”

He pushed his penis between her spread thighs and rubbed its thick length against her fluid-slick breach and clit, forcing whimpering moans and more strained pleading for him to please, please let her come.

Skriker responded by snatching the hitch from between her teeth and brutally tearing the nipple clamps away; Rose screamed, thrashing, the rush of blood and stinging agony so excruciatingly sweet that she was momentarily sure that it would drive her mad.

Skriker lowered himself onto her, his cock resting against her flat sweat-slicked belly, and began to croon to her, stroking her cheeks and damp hair.

“There now, angel,” he purred as he bent and began to kiss, lick, and gently suck those tormented nipples, soothing them sweetly with his warm soft mouth and caressing tongue. Rose moaned, her heart pounding, her torso writhing gently beneath him like the sea.

“Sweet little Nephil nips,” he purred, tenderly sucking and licking one strawberry-pink bud as he gently caressed and toyed with the other. “Like candy against my tongue. Mmmmm…damn, you taste so good, Rosie…”

She was panting when he rose up and mounted her, his fingers hooking into the floss-thin straps of her thong and tearing the gauzy garment away, tossing it over the side of the bed. He slid his right hand between her thighs and stroked her velvety labia, his green eyes shimmering as he gazed down at her.

“Heaven says that you should be ashamed when I touch you,” he murmured, a bit wistfully. “Are you ashamed, baby?”

Rose shook her head abruptly, and that was when another whip-crack slap came across her face, making her scarred cheek sting brutally. Skriker gripped her face in his big hand, pinching hard as he bent near her, slicking his tongue across her reddened, makeup-smeared cheek.

“Wrong answer. You are ashamed…and you love it. Now, I’m gonna fuck your pussy, and you are not going to come. Is that clear?”

Rose was sobbing now, her breast hitching, utterly overwhelmed by the incredible emotions raging through her. He would continue to deny her what he could usually make her do in a split second: orgasm.

She couldn’t bear it, couldn’t take the merciless pleasure he would pump through her without feeling that delirious release. Skriker’s hunger to possess her fully, to dominate a being that held such terror and rage for one of his father’s kind, would fully be realized when he could force her to hold back on that aching climax.

It was the obscenity of the act that they both so wildly relished: demon-taking angel, sexually commanding and controlling the powerful offspring of a celestial warrior, a creature that would have looked down upon Skriker’s own sire as nothing but shit.

This submission was the greatest gift she could have ever given him, save for accepting his hand in marriage…and that was something she still, to this day, refused.

Skriker tore the beaded mask off of her, tossing it aside. He snatched up the luxurious black scarf and blindfolded her with it, binding her eyes and part of her hair in rippling velvet, leaving her blind and vulnerable to the heightened sensations his hands and mouth and pulsing dick would offer her. She felt him spread her legs wider, his hands gripping her thighs firmly, and she felt the lips of her pussy part fluidly as he stretched her open.

Skriker’s cock penetrated her, and she jerked upward, wailing as he began to pump into her, his thrusts rapid and brutally hard from the get go. The head of his cock struck the back of her vagina and she shrieked in a glorious culmination of hot pain and rosy pleasure.

She could hear him panting and groaning, feel his thick drill spreading her slit outrageously wide. She wanted to come, wanted it so badly that she was terrified that the pure physiological urge would simply overpower her and she would be let loose like a rocket.

But he would know, would feel the spasms of her nether mouth around his joystick, and that would ruin the game for both of them. No, she would hang tight, would trust that he had so much more planned…

Soon he was moaning hoarsely, the husky baritone of his smoker’s voice sending ripples of exhilaration pulsing through her body, and her lips parted to murmur something. There was a brief gust of air near her face and he slapped her again, his fingers cracking across her mouth, and she tasted blood, hot and coppery.

“Begging again,” she heard him grumble, and suddenly she felt his dick leave her brutalized pussy, felt the almost depressing emptiness that came of him no longer being one with her flesh, like barren trees beneath a hard grey sky.

There was a rustling of the bedclothes, and she felt his weight shift from between her thighs and move toward the head of the bed. Seconds later she felt the hard smooth head of his cock press against her lips, sticky with her own fervent juices.

“Suck your pussy, angel,” his voice breathed from just above her head, and Rose opened her mouth obediently, taking his slick rod into her throat for the second time.  She sucked away, relishing the salty sweetness of her own juices; she felt Skriker’s fingers thread into the D-ring in her collar, felt him force her mouth up and down on his shaft, faster and harder.

She was whimpering and groaning as she swallowed him, taking him down, shuddering in pleasure as he worked his inches deep in her throat.

“That taste good, Rosie?” Skriker breathed, his fingers tugging hard on her collar, and she tried to nod, tried to tell him somehow that it tasted sweeter than ambrosia.

She was ready to milk him, ready to swallow every hot oozing drop of his seed and come herself as she did it, and that was when he caressed her face and withdrew his tool from her mouth, gently slapping her lips a few times with the knobbed head before pulling away. She groaned, frustrated, and he slapped her tits a few times, pinching her nipples in hard callused fingers.

“You Nephilim are slow learners,” he said; she felt him untying the silk ropes that bound her wrists. “You beg…when I tell you not to beg. You will keep your whore mouth shut unless I have something to fill it with. You will come when I allow you to. Now, on all fours, please.”

Rose felt him move down and grip her hips; she felt him flip her over on her hands and knees. He pushed her face down into the bedspread and used the same silk rope to tie her arms behind her back, wrapping the sleek cord around her wrists and torso until they were bound tightly together.

With her torso bound and her ass in the air, Rose instinctually spread her thighs; it was when she felt his hot breath caress her aching labia she nearly squealed in excitement.

Skriker had positioned himself behind her and was making love to her with lips and tongue and hot moist breath; she bucked and whimpered, tossing her head against the mattress like a mare in heat.

She felt him gently caress and massage her hips and thighs, stroking her smooth skin with a light touch that sent shivers rocketing through her body. His tongue lapped, licked, teased, warm and slick between the soft folds of her honey pot, pushing suddenly deeper into her, tasting more…

Rose felt her body stiffen as his tongue pushed deep—too deep—for a human male. She felt the oral organ wriggling deeply into her, reaching for the back of her pussy, and a dark thought crossed her mind.

He morphed.

She felt disgust and repulsion briefly flood her belly; it was a demon’s tongue, black and forked, that now wormed its way into her honeypot and lapped at her most secret places.

The angel in her battered at its prison door, and she almost unlocked it…almost, until Skriker did something with his tongue, and a wave of pleasure, unlike anything she could have imagined washed through her, blowing any uncertainty she felt into oblivion.

She humped back against him, moaning and trembling, certain that this was what his plan was all along—to have her come as he pleasured her in a morphed state, a true demon Master possessing his angel slave.

She was wrong, of course, and realized this when he pulled away before the orgasm could take hold. Skriker suddenly gripped her hips with force and entered her cunt once again, jamming his tool—as many of those ten inches as would fit—into her begging slit.

His thrusts were merciless, even cruel, and she screamed as he grabbed the back knot of the blindfold and jerked her head back as he rammed into her, panting and grunting like a beast, his rhythm primal and beyond urgent. His other fist gripped her wrists where they were bound behind her back, forcing her back onto his cock.

Soon he was slapping her ass, spanking her so hard that she was certain he would leave bruises, all the while punishing her helpless, begging cunt with ten inches of hard gristle.

Rose was fading, near exhaustion, overwhelmed by the pleasure pounding through her like a primal heartbeat; her screams of delicious pain had faded to soft, groaning whimpers. She was certain that she would faint dead away before he would let her have release, before this—her lover and, tonight, her Master—would let her come. And it was in that moment that she heard his voice, crying out to her as his thrusting sped up and his body tensed against hers.

“Come!”  he growled, slapping her ass a last few incredible times. “Come for your demon master, angel! Come all over this hard flesh…”

Rose did come; it was beyond coming. Her voice rose in a wail that seemed to erupt from her very core, reverberating through the night, permeating every stick of wood and slip of fabric that surrounded their lover’s bed. She drenched him as she came, and at the last second, he pulled out of her with a wet skoosh! and shot his load across the red angel wings tattooed on her back.

Spurt after spurt of hot thick seed until his balls were empty and he couldn’t shoot another drop. “Oh, fuuuuuuuuuuuck!” he cried, his voice a raspy groan in the night. Rose collapsed forward as he released her, lying in a huddled, silk-tied lump, her long legs twisted out behind her, tears of ultimate release streaking down her mascara-smeared cheeks.

She lay there sobbing, her own salty juices oozing from her exhausted aching hole, sticky warm semen pooled across her back, feeling fantastic and filthy all at once. She had been a demon’s slave; true, the master had been her lover and dearest companion, but she had submitted to him, and that had been like standing before the Seraphim and all the Archangels and giving them all the finger in her defiantly human way.

It filled her with a thrill that she could not deny; a deep primordial hunger, raw and pure, as pure as the white fire that boiled in her genes. It was glorious.

Indeed, it made her feel free.

Moments later, Skriker was untying the blindfold, pulling it gently away from her; she squinted as the soft light of the room broke the darkness to which she had been committed for the last half hour or so.

She felt him untie her arms, heard him cast the silk rope aside, felt him wipe a soft towel across her back, mopping up his spurted juices. Moments later he spooned up next to her, pulled her into his arms. She shivered, though the night was warm.

“Rosie,” he breathed, nuzzling into her neck. “I love you so much, baby…I can’t tell you how much. I never could manage to tell you…thank you for this. Thank you…”

She nodded, sighing and shifting back against him. “Did you like your present?”

His hands moved over her sweat-slicked body, gentle and tender. “God, yes,” he breathed. “And there’ll be more to come. Now I just want to hold you…just let me hold you, baby.”

Rose curled close to him, her buttocks and back pressed against him; his hands moved sweetly over her body, caressing her thighs and hips and belly, coming up to sweetly cup her sore, abused breasts. She sighed and laid her head back, kissing him softly, relishing being in his arms, her heart overflowing like a fountain.

She fell asleep in his embrace and didn’t awaken until she felt him lifting her and carrying her into the master bathroom. He lowered her gently into a warm, soothing bath and took his time washing the sweat and cum from her skin, soothing her sore nipples with a warm soft cloth.

She lay back in the tub, her breasts bobbing, her long curling hair streaking in dark rivulets on the surface of the water, gazing up at him as he tended to her aftercare.

“You’re my blond god, you know that, Skrike?” she murmured, and he grinned, winking at her.

“You bet. And don’t you forget it, Rosie.”

Twenty minutes later he drained the tub, dried her off, and carried her back to bed. He nestled her beneath the sheets and held her in the darkness, his arms so strong around her, and she was once again amazed that such a big man could touch her so gently and with such tenderness.

She was sore as hell, bruised and reddened by his brutal loving, and yet his hands moved over her body with such sweet gentleness now that she didn’t flinch once. Soon Skriker rolled over on her, and she could feel his cock pressed against her thigh, once again as hard as a chunk of pink rock.

She whimpered, unsure if she could handle another session like the one they had just shared so soon, but he was slow in his movements, meltingly tender, and she realized that he was rewarding her, thanking her for her gift of submission to him. She allowed herself to relax and enjoy his gentler favors, soon finding herself whimpering for him again, wanting him with desperate yet quiet hunger.

Skriker cupped her battered breasts in his hands and soothed them once again with his mouth and caressing tongue, licking, sucking, worshipping as he usually did. Rose writhed gently beneath him, burying her fingers in the thick chunky spikes of his hair, panting and pleading softly. He nuzzled against each breast, then between them, kissing each harsh red mark left by his whip, coaxing her nipples to harden between his lips.

“Mmmmm…you taste like honey, Rosie,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. “You’ve been such a good girl tonight. So good to your man.”

She giggled and sighed. “I wanted to please you.”

He raised his head, and she once again saw those pinpricks of orange light in his eyes, strange points in the darkness of his bedroom.

“You always please me, Rose. You honor me every time. I love you like crazy…but you know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know that.”

Skriker’s hand moved slowly down and between her thighs, and she parted them for him, molding her body against his. He bent his head and nestled a nipple into his mouth again as she lifted her hips against his; her cunt was once again streaming wet and she knew he could feel it, could feel her glossy wetness sliding over his probing fingers.

He sucked and licked her turgid bud, moving the tip of his tongue around her areola in concentric circles as she humped against his hand, her breath coming in ragged gasps. He moved between her thighs and his cock found her pussy once again, the plump knob pushing past the soft folds of her vaginal lips and into her silky crevasse.

Rose thrust her hips upward and took him deep, squeezing down on him, and he moaned, shuddering as she began to push and pull against him.

“Master,” she panted, and he kissed her, sucked her breath into his throat as his thrusting sped up; she was raw down there, sore and bruised, and yet the pleasure came again, wave after glorious wave. She felt him grow harder in her wet gulf, pumping his rod in and out as he grabbed her throat, hooking his fingers into the rim of the leather collar that bound her.

She bucked against him, her breasts jiggling as he jerked the collar in his grip; she plunged her hand between their writhing bodies and pinched the base of his plunging dick between her fingers where it emerged from her slit, stroking him rhythmically as he thrust.

“Rose!” he cried, his voice a hoarse bellow. “Oh, shit…oh, God! Don’t stop, baby…keep that hand moving…oh, yeahhhhhhhhhhh…”

He ejaculated again, spraying his cream into her just as she felt orgasm rock her depths. She shuddered beneath him, her voice a strained groan beneath the pressure of his hand gripping her collared throat.

She gazed up at him, relishing the sight of him kneeling above her, his chiseled body outlined by the streetlight shining in through the window, his pale hair catching that same gassy blue-white light. He was panting, and his eyes were burning red-orange in the cloth-thick shadows obscuring much of his handsome face. Rose licked her fingers, tasting her own juices, and held her arms out to him, trustingly, almost like a child.

“Demon…Master…” she breathed, and he lay down in her embrace, his pleasantly softening penis resting against her thigh. He nuzzled into her neck, against the collar that bound her, inhaling the leather scent as his left arm slung lazily across her breasts.

“Tomorrow,” he mumbled as he drifted off to sleep. “So much more fun planned, baby…so much more for my angel slut to give me.”