No Demons But Us

by A. S. Etaski

  “Move,” she growled, pushing my shoulder.

  A first step and I felt the floor drop beneath my slipper-clad foot. My heart pounded in my chest as I counted the stairs downward, and this time the Red Sister didn’t seem to care.

  I wanted badly to ask where I was being taken, and why. Was it the dungeon? Or an interrogation room? A sacrificial altar? I began to wonder if I should have attempted to run from the balcony if I’d lost my only chance of escaping to live another cycle. Yet if I had, where would I go? The Red Sisters would find me anywhere in Sivaraus, and I couldn’t leave our borders unprepared and expect to survive in the wilderness.

  Noble livestock at Court, waiting to be bred and culled.

  The urge to flee took deep breathing to get under control. I repeated to myself that I’d done nothing to justify feeling so scared. As back at my Mother’s House, if I showed it, it would be a presumption of guilt.

  I’ve done nothing, I thought. Nothing at all.

  After eighty-three steps the floor leveled, and I sensed the tight walls retreat, and the air became less close. I smelled no blood and no filth, heard no moaning or wailing of prisoners. My right arm hurt where the Red Sister still gripped it; she led me to some mysterious point on the floor, and we stopped.

  “Stay.”

  I stayed. I waited patiently for all that I tried not to lose my meal in a fit of heaves. I closed my eyes; it made no difference if I could see or not, but it helped with vertigo. I listened as well and realized I could hear breathing. Not just the breath of the Red Sister who’d collected me, but that of several more. Maybe three. A reddish hue had materialized behind my closed eyelids. The spell’s effects must have receded, and beyond my lids was true light. I hesitated.

  “Open your eyes, Sirana.”

  My stomach clenched. I knew this voice, though I’d not heard it since this Red Sister had visited House Thalluen. I opened my eyes and immediately flinched, tears welling up and dripping down my cheeks. The sting came from too many candles, several scores of them in a large and circular room empty of furnishings. The walls were dressed stone and draped with the Drider’s Crest of Braqth, the Shining Web of the Valsharess, and the curved dagger silhouette of the Red Sisters.

  Oh, Goddess.

  This was a formal room used by the center of power above the Nobles, and I stood here in a dirty, rumpled party gown. The floor beneath my feet had been polished to such a shine as to be able to see my reflection. It was as if I stared down at myself in an underground pond; as if I stood on the surface of black water.

  There were two Red Sisters in front of me standing several paces away, and the one who’d brought me here stood on the outside right of them. I recognized the Sorceress Elder in the middle and my collector on the left. The youngest Red Sister on the Elder’s right was new to me and closer to my own age. She couldn’t be more than a half-century older and was the only one from whom I could glean any emotion in her face.

  It was sympathy.

  “Your dining gown is unsuitable, Sirana. Please remove it.”

  I blinked in the abundant candlelight, hesitated a moment too long as the Sorceress frowned in displeasure and stepped forward. I took an involuntary step back when she drew her dagger.

  “Stop!” she barked.

  I obeyed, frozen in place. She pointed downward, and I followed her gaze. There was a subtle inlay of garnet-colored stone that formed a diamond about a pace and a half wide, and I stood right in the middle of it.

  “Step outside that diamond before I tell you, and your blood will be thrown by the cup back into your own face until it’s all you see and smell and taste as you drain out.”

  I centered myself in the diamond and looked warily at the decorated dagger she held as if it were part of her own body, the intensity of her gaze eschewing even a glance at her face.

  “You heard my first command, didn’t you, Sirana? Or would you like assistance?”

  My hands rose instantly to pull the silver straps off my otherwise bare shoulders. My pale gown was thin and flowing, covering me from bust to toe although in this light it took only a squint to see the details of skin and curve beneath. Once it was off my shoulders, it took very little to let it drop and pool around my feet. Without being asked, I also stepped on the heels of my slippers to slide my feet out of them.

  The eldest Red Sister nodded in approval and gestured her hand smartly to the side. I kicked the gown and slippers out of the diamond where the youngest Sister collected them into a basket. She circled around me, studying my nudity critically.

  “No hidden weapon?” she asked.

  I hesitated again but reached up and pulled a long, thin needle from within the white braids of my complicated hairstyle. She held her hand out for it, and I passed it cautiously, trying not prick her with it. She smiled, and I could see the subtle creases at the corners of her eyes. Despite the warm color of candlelight, I could also tell there were just a few blonde streaks in her otherwise pure white hair. She sniffed the needle.

  “Gauric’s ointment,” she chuckled, passing the weapon to another Sister who dropped it in the basket along with my clothes. “Enough to send anyone to worshiping their private throne for the better part of the resting cycle.” She returned a hard stare at me. “Is that all?”

  “Yes, Elder.”

  “Take down your hair. Undo every braid.”

  This was almost as meticulous and tedious as when the Palace servants had styled and put up my hair earlier before dinner. I came very close to yanking on the snarls in my anxiety but only had to glance at the Sisters watching me to refocus and tug gently on the strand that would do the most good. They were all poise and self-control, and they were observing my every facial tick and eye blink.

  Given enough time, my hair flowed free and covered my shoulder blades, the ties and pins added to the basket. I was then instructed to remove my jewelry; the youngest Red Sister held out the basket so I could drop them among my other effects. The Elder Sorceress stepped behind me and combed her fingers carefully through the white tresses several times; I knew she was searching me, but it felt good in a way. I sighed to ease some of my tension.

  Then I felt her gloved hand on the back of my neck, applying pressure. “Take hold of your ankles, Sirana.”

  I nearly spun around; the muscles in my pelvis flexed protectively as I understood that she had one more search to do. She squeezed my neck hard, prevented me from turning, and roughly forced me to bend over. She kicked at my ankles like a beast of burden to get me to widen my stance so my toes would touch the side points of the diamond. I’d seen plenty of males placed in this position. I’d even ordered it before; it gave such lovely access.

  Not so fun when it was me nude in front of the Queen’s Enforcers.

  “Take hold of your ankles, Sirana. Don’t make me say it a third time.”

  My hands grabbed at their instructed purchase, and I tried explaining, “There is nothing inside my body, Elder Sister.”

  She ignored me. I felt the soft leather of her gloved fingers trace my sex; she was gathering what moisture there was. It wasn’t a lot; I was too scared. She pressed a finger into me, and I cringed at the discomfort as she felt around inside, satisfying herself that there wasn’t any foreign object stored in my feminine hole.

  A few moments more allowed me to anticipate that she would check my third orifice as well, so I didn’t tighten up at the first probe where it would only hurt. Instead, I relaxed, allowed the digit to penetrate me more easily. It wasn’t slick enough and was very uncomfortable, but it also didn’t last very long. I breathed a sigh of relief when she withdrew.

  “Good, Sirana. Now get on your knees and spread them out. Touch your feet together. Now hands on the stone, bring your palms together, elbows out. Touch your forehead to your hands and keep your eyes down. Make yourself fit the diamond, imagine you are a spider waiting in her web.”

  Or a slave awaiting her mistress’s pleasur
e.

  “Now, continue to wait until we return.”

  I heard no snickering as I complied, and it did make me wonder. There was no additional pat or fondle; no final insertion to remind me of my submission to her. The Elder just glided away with the others, and I waited.

  They left me there like that, the candlelight creating dancing shadows which swirled over the polished floor and teased my sensitive eyes. I don’t know where they went, or even how they went, but it was soon apparent I was the only living thing in the chamber.

  Time drifted, and I had little else to do except look at the candles’ reflections and the shadows and shift my knees as they started to complain about the hard floor. I was aware of my nakedness, of my breasts hanging close to the ground and the nipples becoming turgid of their own accord before softening again, of the relatively cool air caressing parts of me still tingling from the cavity search.

  Nudity on its own wasn’t disturbing; Davrin Elves knew we were beautiful, more so than anything else in the Deepearth. The only time my nakedness had bothered me was when Jilrina wanted me unclothed; then I wanted desperately to cover myself with any armor I could have.

  I suppose I wanted some armor right now; the position which I was to hold, and which the Red Sisters’ standard was enough to make me obey, was one of supplication I had never needed to perform at Court, even at that Braqth demon-summoning orgy. Being naked only intensified the feeling that I was expected to act the servant, and my fate lay at the whim of the eldest Red Sister who’d commanded me to kneel.

  What does she want of me?

  My back was getting stiff, and I stretched it first upward, lingering, then arched my back down, trying to rotate my shoulders and hips a bit. Now if I could just give my knees some relief—

  The thick, throaty hum behind me and the puff of hot breath on my inner thighs pushed any thought of body aches out of my mind. I froze in mid-arch, unable to move as I realized something was in the chamber with me. I hadn’t heard it enter.

  How could that be? How could it have gotten so close—?

  A long, rough tongue rasped along the folds of my sex and the cleft of my buttocks, and I gasped in shock, at last able to make my body move. I abandoned my position and spun in place, planting my rear on the ground still within the diamond, and closed my legs, facing the creature that had licked me. A complex mix of revulsion and arousal spread from my chest down to my groin as I recognized what it was.

  Sathoet.

  A hybrid birth, half-Dark Elf, and half-demon. A magical son born to our Priestesses of Braqth. Occasionally I saw them at executions or sacrificial ceremonies, attending their Mothers. After the orgy a decade ago, I’d put together that mass rut intended to aid in summoning an Abyssal servant to help conceive one of these creatures for the newest Priestess of the Spider Queen. Her Sathoet had been born only eight turns ago. I couldn’t imagine it had matured to this size already when a decade-old Elf remained at hip-level to most females. This was a much older one.

  Yellow, pupil-less eyes narrowed at me from a black, elongated face. It had sharp teeth and a snout; very little of the bestial face resembled a Davrin, except for the dark skin and the mane of white hair. It was muscular, taller and stronger than me, with big hands and feet and claws on each digit. Except for the hideous face, it was well-formed, with balanced and sculptured musculature.

  As my eyes drifted down, I was reminded of what I’d heard: that all Sathoet are born male. He was undoubtedly a ready male, erect, his chest moving deeper and faster as if catching his breath, and he weaved from side-to-side as if waiting for me to do something. He even whined briefly. I wasn’t sure he could talk.

  I glanced around the chamber; it was still empty. Just me and the Sathoet, both naked, and him with an erection. He breathed in my scent with evident pleasure, even if he dared not do more than lean his head over the garnet border of the diamond without touching it. I did not know what to do, what was expected. I still didn’t understand why I was here. Perhaps I was just to be toyed with in some twisted games before being killed for some imagined slight to some bitter crone.

  You’ll miss your chance.

  So my collector had said.

  What chance? What did they want to see?

  The Sathoet leaned down and licked my ankle, and I flinched, although it hadn’t felt unpleasant, just different. When I kept staring and studying him, he hissed and reached with his hand to stroke his erection a few times. I recognized it was to delay some of the aches that would come if he wasn’t allowed release soon.

  I watched, fascinated to a degree, but still not sure I could become interested in a half-demon scraping at my feet as if begging for a pat on the head. It didn’t make me eager to open my legs. There was no banter or clever hunt, no power struggle or reluctant surrender as with my Noble males. Games like this were what made me hot to couple. It would certainly take something more than whining to make me eager to bond with a Sathoet.

  I could imagine, though, that if we only sat here staring at each other until the Red Sisters returned, then the Elder wouldn’t be pleased with me. I’d be making things worse for myself, yet I couldn’t only go through the mechanics of mating just because they stuck a demonic cock in front of my face. The dead feeling between my legs, the resentment, and the distaste for the situation would linger for me and prove nothing to them except that I took the path of least resistance.

  I decided, for my best interests, that he must do something to make me want him, and I must give him some hint of what that was. Already he was showing signs of discomfort and impatience, looking balefully at the garnet border he seemed unable to cross. Muscles in his arms and shoulders flexed with tension.

  I wondered what he would do if I were outside the border? Perhaps bowing and scraping for sex wasn’t his first choice.

  I slid my foot toward the edge of the border; the movement caught his attention, and his eyes were pinned to my progress. When I stopped just short of it, his yellow eyes glanced up at me but returned to my foot almost immediately as if he might miss the briefest opportunity of my toe reaching the edge of the border. I felt my heart rate increase as a predator’s gaze fixed on my foot.

  Not just a dumb beast or a fawning pet.

  There was power there, something to give, something to take. He was half-Davrin, after all. Dare I do it? Did I have any understanding of what I tempted? No, I didn’t, but I’d learned at Court that fully half of gaining control of any situation was acting like I did. If nothing else, it would be more interesting than just sitting here, and it would be my choice. Risk nothing, gain nothing.

  I scooted forward and thrust my entire foot outside of the garnet border. The Sathoet froze for the split-instant it took him to understand that I was his, then he seized my ankle with one hot hand, yanking me out of the diamond with one pull. I was on my back staring up at him, and I kicked with my other free foot, striking him in his chest with my heel. He growled and dragged me the rest of the way out, close enough to him that he could kneel between my legs and lean over me. He bared his knife-sized teeth in a snarling, eager smile.

  “Don’t. You. Dare!” I roared with all the bluster I could bring to bear, rising up like a serpent and swatting him open-handed across the face.

  The sound of the slap echoed perfectly in the chamber, and he appeared genuinely dumbfounded for as long as the echo took to fade. His grip loosened on my ankle, and I slipped free, rolling to get to my feet to gain distance before facing and glaring at him. A brief pause, and then his snarl came back as he made eye contact with me.

  He charged.

  I could have dodged back into the diamond and gloated at him, but that would be a decision I couldn’t reverse, and I’d be stuck until—or if—the Red Sisters returned. Instead, I stayed outside the diamond and danced with the demon.

  I ran, and he chased me. When he would get close to dragging me down, I dodged and changed direction. This could only go on so long in an
open, circular chamber, but it was enough to wind us. Spinning around to charge back at him, I threw myself into his arms. It surprised him utterly, and I had my legs wrapped around his waist and one hand gripping his mane before he could throw me off. I drew back my free arm and slapped him again.

  “You want to fuck me, Sathoet?! Do you?” I shouted in his face, pouring every drop of venom and fury I could to increase the potency of the next hard slap. “Were you told that I was your reward for being a good bua for the Priestesses? Huh, were you? Because I’ll tell you right now, you brutish half-blood, I am no Priestess’s reward!”

  I slapped him again.

  The Sathoet could understand what I was saying, and I could read a familiar Davrish expression on his dark face. The essence translated to, “How did you know that?” Sometimes I guess very well, or I get lucky. Sometimes I’m inspired during a heated rage as I was now. Perception and intuition were twins I valued immensely.

  “I could bargain with you,” I said with more calm, almost soothing, and he perked up. To my own surprise, I smiled as I felt his hands slide under my buttocks to support my weight. His erection had softened, but he dug in his claws a little into my flesh.

  “Rrrrm?” he rumbled.

  I was still panting. “Tell me your name. I prefer to have a name to go with a cock.”

  The Sathoet wasn’t pleased and shook his head in refusal, a rough growl leaking from between his teeth along with his saliva.

  “You have a name. All demons do,” I replied firmly, “and I’m not asking for the one that binds you to the Sanctuary. I want to know what your Mother calls you. Tell me her name for you, Sathoet.”

  He looked away from me; he couldn’t help it. The repeated slaps had regressed him. He appeared confused, and I saw his eyes flicker toward a section of the candles. I noted the location. Someone was watching and listening, and I felt encouraged; if he looked now to whoever was behind the wall of candles for support, it meant I’d genuinely shaken him.

  A demonblood wasn’t kissable on the mouth, but I pressed my lips into the side of his neck and tasted the oddly spicy flesh. I felt the real excitement, now; I liked his reluctance, his need to be persuaded, and the fact that his loyalty to his Mother clashed with his base urges to fuck me. The idea of mating with him in a similar manner to the ritual which had spawned him had real appeal to me. When power flowed between beings, lust rose as part of the high.