No Demons But Us

by A. S. Etaski

  I adjusted the way my body held to him, pressed my buttocks into his hands and pressed my hot sex against his softened genitals. There was a small but immediate response.

  “Tell me your name, Sathoet,” I whispered to him, my eyes half-closed as my breathing hadn’t slowed. I kissed his skin, nipping at his collarbones.

  My attention and the continued swiveling and squirming of my hips against him brought him back to full erection. His breath heaved, and he quivered a little, standing and holding my weight. Perhaps his muscles strained by now as well, but he didn’t want to interrupt what I was doing.

  I lined up his erection so that the tip rested at the entrance of my body, and I held it there. He tried to thrust upward, but I lifted myself with him. There was no further penetration, just my warm, wet slit caressing and teasing the sensitive flesh of us both. He tried forcing my buttocks down and onto him, but I drew my hand back, threatening to slap him again. He stopped.

  “I told you what I want,” I said. “I can stay like this a long time. I can even climax like this. I’ll get mine for certain, but you? It’s your choice if you get to sink in deep, Good Bua.”

  He blinked when I called him that.

  The teasing went on for a good long while. The Sathoet was in a furious state of arousal and could not be subtle as I stoutly resisted penetration and even struck him again. It fascinated me that he wouldn’t hit me back. One unrestrained punch from him could knock me unconscious.

  He is very well trained.

  Once the Sathoet made a motion as if to kneel us both down on the ground, and I hissed a challenge at him with enough venom to give him pause. He stayed standing. He wasn’t easily swayed, not at all. But finally, finally—

  “Kerse,” he rumbled through a mouthful of teeth.

  “You can talk.” I grinned, pleased. He couldn’t be articulate if that one harsh syllable were any indication, but it was good to know a Sathoet could speak. “Kerse. Your name?”

  “Ssirranna,” he hissed back, the corners of his wide mouth rising in response.

  Someone had told him my name, or he had been near enough to hear it.

  I said, “We have a bargain.”

  I impaled myself on him and groaned, wet enough by now that it had only taken one thrust to be balls-deep. He howled in relief, and I felt his hands slide up to my back, the claws press in as he gripped me harshly. Kerse kneeled to lay us both down on the reflective floor, placing me with extraordinary care on my back to settle between my legs before he began to pound me with desperate need.

  The rough, fast pace was exactly what I wanted; I climaxed within moments, my scream of delight echoing around us. Kerse drove hard into me. I was surprised he’d lasted to my own peak and even more surprised when, his lips pulling back to expose clenched teeth, he suddenly pulled out. I groaned in disappointment.

  The Sathoet reached to grip and stroke himself to completion, spraying his seed across my thighs and buttocks to drain in a puddle beneath me on the polished floor. I felt his hot gasps on the skin of my neck and in my hair.

  He…he fucking pulled out?

  Did that mean the demonbloods could impregnate a fertile female? If so, had his Mother conditioned this strong response from him? It spoke of an unsettling amount of power to the Priestess who owned this Sathoet.

  “Up,” I panted. “Get off me.”

  Kerse obeyed, lifting himself up and backward to sit on his haunches, his shoulders drooping with exhaustion.

  “You’re a good bua, Kerse,” I crooned as I sat up and reached out to stroke the side of his face. “I enjoyed that.”

  He made an unintelligible sound and tried to turn his face from my hand, though he didn’t work very hard. The tone reminded me of an adolescent who wanted to shrug off a flattering compliment but responded to it nonetheless.

  Whatever just happened, I’d won.

  I heard soft footsteps, and the only reason I did was that one set had the quick click of someone agitated. I looked over my shoulder and saw the same Red Sisters returning: the Sorceress Elder, the elder who had collected me from the balcony, and the youngest Red Sister. It was my collector who gave away her emotions in her walk.

  I stood up out of the puddle of ejaculate, aware of the cooling wetness that glazed my rear end but turning to face them nonetheless. I stood with my back straight, with greater confidence than when I’d arrived here.

  “You’re outside the diamond, Sirana,” the Elder commented slyly as the three stopped before me.

  “Forgive me that I thought it necessary, Elder Sister,” I replied.

  I thought she smiled, though it was subtle. I wished I knew if that was a good sign or not. My collector, however, scowled at me as she muttered a harsh, foreign word to Kerse. He bowed his head to her, standing up and walking toward the darkness beyond the candlelight.

  I noticed when Kerse looked back again, at me. Then he disappeared from sight.

  “Becoming bored embarrassing higher Houses with their weaker sons?” my collector commented, her arms crossed as the Elder glanced at her and let her speak. “Now you want to agitate a Priestess?”

  Despite hearing a clear confession that the Sisters had been watching me for decades, Jilrina’s face flashed before my eyes and my first thought curdled to one promise.

  Anything to agitate a Priestess.

  “Is it so easy?” I asked instead, an unintended sneer coming to my lips.

  She noticed, tilting her head. “A fool would pray to test it.”

  The Elder Sorceress motioned then for my collector to stand down, and the Red Sister did so willingly, straightening her back and watching me with something like suspicion. Still not even a twitch of a smile from her, for any reason.

  I turned toward the eldest. “May I ask, who is Kerse’s Mother?”

  She shook her head. “You may not ask, Sirana, it is not your place. But you may find out regardless.”

  The Sorceress stepped around me again, studying me as she had once in my own bedroom. This time the observation did not seem to delve more than skin deep. “I see that Kerse scratched your back.”

  I shrugged and said nothing. I could feel the sting now, and I might be bleeding. At the time, it had felt good.

  “You enjoy rough play with young cocks?”

  Behind me, she touched her fingers the sticky wetness on my backside, tracing the crease at my buttock and upper thigh, thoroughly coating two fingers with Kerse’s spending. I tried not to squirm.

  “Where appropriate, Elder Sister, yes,” I replied cautiously.

  “What about with more than one?” She walked around to the front again and popped her fingers into her mouth, tasting the Sathoet’s seed.

  I shrugged again. “I’ve done it before.”

  “Ah, yes. I heard about your participation at that last Priestess initiation ceremony.” Her dark red eyes twinkled as she smiled.

  I answered the smile. “And more since.”

  “Indeed. Unusual for one so young. Oh,” the Sorceress added casually, “you must clean your mess, Sirana. This chamber is to remain dry and polished.”

  I looked at the puddle of semen, at the spray and smear of Kerse’s release from our coupling, then back at the Elder Sister. She seemed amused waiting for my response.

  I considered asking for cloth but discarded it. I trusted my reading of the eldest; it would be a mark against me. So I had two choices: use my hair or my tongue. One would leave a stiff, distasteful mar to my gleaming, white tresses for the rest of this ordeal. The other was a small performance and fleeting mental image for the observers.

  “A moment, Elder Sister, I will take care of it.”

  I dropped to my hands and knees and leaned down, touching my lips to the cooling, bitter liquid. I slurped in loudly as if I supped from a spoon, hummed in theatrical pleasure, then sucked in more. The floor was nearly dry already, only a few more drops. I thought I heard both a giggle from the youngest an
d scoff from my collector.

  “Do you mock us, Thalluensareci?” the middle Sister asked.

  I lapped up the last bit, licked my lips and straightened up, sitting on my knees with my legs folded under me. I looked up at them, not meeting their eyes but studying at the red leather armor of their chests. “Of course not, Red Sister. Why would I mock you? The floor is clean, as instructed, without Noble sulking. I thought you’d like that.”

  My collector drew in a breath to say something else, but the eldest raised her hand again, gestured her to be still. Those aged, copper eyes were studying me intently.

  “Satisfactory, Sirana. Now take your position in the diamond again. You’ll meet your new companions in due time.”

  A new test, then.

  I rose and walked stubbornly calm back to the diamond, where, kneeling down, my knees immediately recognized the hard surface. I glanced up to the three Sisters before putting my forehead on my folded hands, taking the slave’s position. I hadn’t heard the youngest Red Sister make any noise, but again she had seemed to have an expression of sympathy for me.

  Don’t waste your pity on me, I thought with indignation, pricked with anxiety I wished to deny. This was nothing so far, whatever the purpose. Court antics and House games using a different tool. What had they expected, that I would shriek in disgust at mating a Sathoet? Make me shy away from the eldest Sister’s caress or refuse to taste the seed I’d drawn, as the Elder had already done right before my eyes?

  This is nothing. Bring those new “companions.” I’m ready.

  CHAPTER 4

  As before, time passed as I waited in the candle-filled chamber, the magical light shifting in subtle ways as the candle grew short in predictable fashion. I was tenser this time as I expected someone or something to touch me from behind.

  The voice came from directly in front of me. I nearly flinched.

  “Look up. Now.”

  The voice was male. Full Davrin this time, neither hissing nor bestial.

  When I looked up, I saw nothing. I could smell him, however, and feel the heat seeping off invisible flesh. Then I felt a hand seize my hair and force me up straight with a painful jerk. I almost opened my mouth, enraged enough to shout at him.

  How dare he?!

  The familiar, soft texture of an engorged glans pressed against my mouth and I pursed my lips shut, remaining silent.

  “Suck me, Noble,” the disembodied voice murmured to me, both bitter and lyrical. “Open your privileged mouth.”

  Briefly, I felt cold. I tried to turn my head, but he made my scalp burn to keep me in place. I locked my jaw but a groan slipped out, and he was excited by the sound; preliminary wetness seeped from the tip of his cock onto my lips.

  “Open up. I’m going to fuck your throat whether you wish it or not, Noble. If you bite me, the Elder’s punishment to bleed you and make you swallow that instead still applies.”

  Another mage. This one a male claiming the Sorceress’s support. He sounded so confident and so very hateful. Worse, he wore an invisibility spell not disrupted by forceful physical contact, which was usually all it took to dispel.

  Is he that powerful?

  It could have been another mage who cast a spell on him, but my gut told me it was him, his own magic. It was in the surety in his voice, the anger and resentment, and the intent to force me as he wished and get away with it. Borrowing another Davrin’s spell wouldn’t make it ring so true, would it?

  I had to decide in an instant, and I did. I squashed down my pride and arrogance for now. This was another spar, and I needed an opening gambit. Whatever it took to gain the upper hand eventually.

  I took a deep breath and opened my mouth willingly to let the invisible flesh pass between my lips. He pressed in with a laugh and jammed my windpipe; it was just as well that I held my breath. I closed my eyes so that sensing everything yet seeing nothing before me in the chamber wouldn’t be so distracting. As in any martial challenge, I must detect my opponent’s body language; I must not depend on his face.

  I swallowed his shaft with an enthusiasm I wanted to surprise him. I swirled my tongue, reached up to massage his scrotum and sucked him as if I could pull his brains out through his penis. His grip on my hair tightened, and he guided my rhythm, moaning and cooing at me.

  Every so often he would flick the edges of my pointed ears with his fingers; it was a sharp, disruptive pain that did no damage. I still hated having my ears flicked, and the distraction cost me control of how deep his cock went more than once. I gagged and choked, and he would laugh before I fought back to regain the pace. I would succeed in pleasuring him with all my considerable experience at my disposal.

  He gasped, “Good…that’s it. Ah, stupid, Noble slit…ah. G-good. Next, you’ll turn around. And spread your thighs open for me.”

  Like the Void, I will.

  I hummed in acknowledgment, my throat sore and my mouth full but able to breathe for now. I made a show of slipping my left hand between my legs, putting a finger into my sex still wet from my union with Kerse. The wizard groaned, seeming to stare as he encouraged me to higher speed and energy. I obliged because I didn’t want him to mount me.

  Suck until he’s too close.

  I could tell when he tried to convince himself it was time to abandon my mouth and order me to turn around. I heard it in the way his breath would draw in as if to speak. I’d do something different and inventive with my mouth then, and he’d sigh and let me go on for a few more strokes.

  And a few more.

  He was close.

  Now or never.

  I pulled my well-lubed finger from my sex and brought one hand up to slide it between the wizard’s buttocks, distracting him by groping his sack with the other. It only took a flick to find the ring of flesh I sought.

  “Augh—!” he gasped, flinching as I pressed my finger smoothly inside him, much more comfortable than the Eldest Sister had done to me.

  Don’t complain.

  Immediately I found the nut-like gland inside, behind his bladder. I massaged it, and the wizard cried out again, his control faltering. He started spurting down my throat, his knees weakened. He tried to pull me off him using his fistful of hair, but I held tightly to his hips with my free hand and vigorously massaged his gland, swallowing his seed until he was done. He tasted healthy, far less foreign than the Sathoet. Almost like an underground hot spring infused with my favorite spiced mushroom delicacy. His semen warmed my belly.

  He’s taken something.

  I sensed his body flinch when I removed my finger and pulled my mouth off him at last. He was gasping, his member shriveling. He withdrew a step and slapped me in the face.

  “You think you’re so clever, do you?”

  The wounded pride in his voice was palatable; my cheek stung as it never had under a male hand. I was glad I couldn’t see his rage. He trembled when I looked up at nothing and kept a calm, straight face.

  “Why hide your identity, wizard?” I asked. “Afraid of retribution?”

  “Retribution? From you?”

  He laughed, his disembodied voice echoing in the chamber. It was louder and angrier than it would have been if he’d been in control, but I knew he must be one of the wizards of the Tower then. He sounded disconnected from Court life and the politics of Houses.

  “You’re powerless here, Noble. Your body belongs to us until the Red Sisters come to claim you. If they come to claim you.”

  Us. I recalled there was at least one other, as the Eldest had promised.

  “If my body belongs to you,” I challenged quietly, “then yours belongs to me.”

  Another harsh laugh. “Oh? Who is on her knees before me?”

  “Who chose your climax?” I smirked.

  His voice spat at me. “Try that while flanked on both sides.”

  Strong arms wrapped around me from behind. They were arms I could see this time, dark with smooth skin, well-formed from hard
work and athletics. His hands were rougher and scarred.

  Like the hands of a soldier.

  Those hands slid from my hips up my belly and cupped my breasts as teeth bit hard into my shoulder. I winced but leaned into him rather than away, wanting a sense of his size and ability as my back and buttocks aligned with his front. He was stronger than the wizard but no taller; I might have been taller than each of them, but I was in between for strength.

  Out of my periphery, I caught a glimpse of a reasonably handsome face leering with eagerness. An erection settled comfortably lengthwise in the cleft of my backside, and he pressed hard. I smiled as he pinched my nipples, twisted them roughly.

  A wizard and a fighter.

  The two didn’t mix that well; their methods and training were too different. I chuckled for the first time in this second trial, hissing in excitement as I reached back to dig my fingernails into naked flanks and well-sculpted buttocks.

  “Fuck me, soldier,” I ordered.

  “When I decide, slit-sucker,” he growled back, squeezing my breasts hard and grinding into me.

  His voice had quavered.

  “Now!” I barked, spreading my knees apart wider and thrusting my butt out. “Mount me!”

  I couldn’t see the wizard’s expression, but I hoped he was choking on the insult.

  The soldier liked to bite my neck, making me hiss through my teeth. He reached down to grab the tuft of white hair at my crotch, tugging on it almost as hard as the wizard had at my nape, making me whimper. He managed to tease me for a little while, pawing without the best technique, but finally, he just pushed me down flat onto my stomach, forcing my legs wide apart with his own before ramming his phallus inside my sex.

  “Oh, Goddess, yes!” I cried.

  The soldier held me down with his weight. I struggled against him only to encourage him, reaching out and digging my fingers into the garnet border as if trying to pull myself free of him. He hardly needed the added excitement. He wallowed and slammed between my legs as though he were trying to fit his entire body inside.