by Various
And besides, she thought – this one had power. He could perform pleasures unknown.
She opened her eyes as the demon moved his hands down her body and, without hesitation, slid a long finger up inside her sex. She gasped, then cried out as he inserted a second, forcing it in sharply, making her juices run. She found herself leaning against his hard abdomen as she cried in pleasure and pain from the sheer size of his fingers, her tits brushing against him. She began to gyrate, her sex making suckling noises, the demon grunting with satisfaction.
‘The witch’s sex has been torn,’ he remarked, twisting his fingers as he thrust.
Rosa had collapsed on the ground and was huddled up, watching the scene, afraid. The demon looked at her and smiled, his teeth sharp. ‘You have torn the witch’s sex before in pleasure?’
Rosa nodded slowly. Something had come over her; a softer atmosphere, calming her down.
She couldn’t help herself. As a tingling sensation rose on her skin, she became aroused at the sight of Arianna crying and grinding her hips on the demon’s fingers. She felt her clitoris throbbing, her nipples getting hard. This was madness, she thought, but the thought was swept away as quickly as it came. She could sense the soothing aura of the demon, and her fears were swiftly draining away.
‘Oh, oh.’ Arianna cried, sliding herself up and down on his fingers now, grasping the demon around the waist for support. This was so much better than her dream, she thought. Her juices flowed down the demon’s wrist. He used his other hand to squeeze her breasts, and he stroked her skin all over, nipples too, with his heated palm.
Arianna’s pleasure became so great that her tongue lolled, and she found herself encircling with her mouth the bulbous head of the demon’s huge shaft. He made a grunting sound as she suckled the tip, then took another few inches of him deep. But he was so large and her mouth so small that she couldn’t take all of him, and now the demon was grinding his pelvis, lusting for more.
‘I must spend my seed,’ the demon said, pulling his fingers free. Rosa knew what was coming, and she wanted it to. Her hand had found its way under her skirt and she was rubbing herself, mouth watering to see Arianna pleasured so.
Arianna whimpered, clawing the demon’s red cock with her hands, pulling his foreskin back with a slick, wet sound that made her shudder. His ball sack was round and tight beneath it, embedded in pubic hair. The demon grinned and flipped her over with one swift turn of his hands, making her crouch on the ground with her buttocks facing him.
‘Yes!’ she cried. ‘Fill me, fill me! Bind me to you!’ Arianna licked her lips, still tasting the salty sweat of the demon, her vagina crying out for his manhood in deep, hollow throbs.
‘A demon is not commanded,’ he said. ‘He takes what is his. I will claim my price.’
With that, he grabbed Arianna’s buttocks and parted them, revealing her tight little hole. He bent his head between her cheeks and tongued her, making her squirm, his chin jutting against her sex.
‘Oh, fill me,’ she cried, pressing herself against him. ‘I am yours!’
The demon’s laughter echoed around the still, silent meadow. He rose, bringing his pelvis level with her. With a long, low grunt he drove his cock into her. He had to shove twice to get his full length to sink between her plump lips and into the hot tunnel beyond. She felt him cram himself deep under her womb, felt his pubic hair tickling her clitoris, his ball sack smacking against the tops of her thighs as he began to thrust.
‘Aargh,’ the demon grunted, his face creasing as he pulled his length in and out and squeezed himself inside her moist, tight crevice. Once her juices slackened her pussy enough that he could slide swiftly in and out, he shoved harder, pulling her back and forth by the shoulders, snorting and grunting as he did so.
Rosa cried as her fingers found her clitoris and rubbed harder, longing to feel what Arianna was feeling. She watched her friend, letting her body succumb to the passion of her voyeurism. Arianna clutched the grass and drew up mud, her hair whipping around as the demon fucked her harder, faster, her body bathed in a coat of sweat. She whimpered, cried, until eventually her cries turned to screams.
Finally, the demon roared and jerked spasmodically, tossing his head back as he howled and released himself.
Arianna screamed and felt his juices flooding inside her, spilling out onto her buttocks and thighs, and finally onto the grass.
‘Mm, yes,’ the demon said, slowing his thrusts. He pulled himself out, his manhood softened and spent, glistening wetly in the light of the moon. ‘The seed binds us. Now you are mine.’
Arianna collapsed onto the grass, her sex sore and vibrating. She slowly turned her head, exhausted, and watched Rosa buck her hips as she reached her peak. She collapsed also, weakened, her hair fanning out around her head.
Very slowly, the air seemed to clear. The demon’s soothing atmosphere was draining away. The suspended moth now fluttered to life and disappeared. They could feel the wind again, soft and cooling on their skin.
Rosa’s fingers were stiff from pleasuring herself, and though she knew what had happened, and had witnessed the demon with Arianna, suddenly questions flooded her mind again. One question didn’t need answering, though. She knew her friend’s fate – she was bound to the demon, and was to become his slave.
The demon grinned, seeing the look of confusion on Rosa’s face. ‘A Kal demon can control the witch’s mood like the temperature. He can make her cold like the winter, and hot like the summer sun. You enjoyed our pleasures too.’
Rosa looked from the demon to Arianna, who appeared content with her nakedness, breathing heavily and lying still and peaceful; she didn’t seem to realise their predicament.
‘Arianna,’ she said, reaching out to shake her by the arm. Her friend blinked slowly as if she was awakening from a long sleep. ‘What has come over you?’ said Rosa. ‘Aren’t you afraid? What are we going to tell Old Mim? I’m so, so afraid for you, sister.’
The demon unhooked his battleaxe from the strap on his back, and Rosa scrambled backwards, clutching the grass. But he did not mean to use it on her, she saw. He went to the hawthorn tree, holding the axe with both hands, the weight of it seeming to have no effect on him.
‘The Kals will prepare for the witchling’s first call to my realm, where she will receive more pleasures in return for her vow to serve me. If you envy your witchling sister so, you may perform a call of your own.’
Rosa flinched. True, she had enjoyed what she saw … and the thought of Arianna seeing these new lands, despite the servitude, did fill her with some bitterness. But the envy was soon outweighed by the fear of telling the coven what had happened, and the consequences she would face for allowing Arianna out of her sight.
‘Rosa, don’t be afraid for me,’ Arianna said. ‘This is what I want.’ The moonlight gleamed over her breasts, which rose and fell with every panting breath. Rosa got to her feet and faced the demon, but he was done with them. He didn’t even turn to look at her as she shouted after him.
‘You can’t do this!’ she cried. ‘She’s a fool, she didn’t know what she was agreeing to!’
‘It is already done,’ said the demon. ‘She is bound to me. If you object, you will find yourself at the head of my axe.’
Before Rosa could say any more, she watched the demon from the Kalahsi lands raise his axe above his head and plunge it down upon the hawthorn bush. A bright light burst from its centre, and the two were blinded, thrown backwards by a surge of energy.
It was dawn when they finally awoke. Arianna groped for Rosa’s hand, and neither could say a word as the birds tweeted and the sun rose over the meadow. The hawthorn bush was now a pile of black ashes, the grass surrounding it withered away.
They knew they would have to rush to Old Mim and explain everything. Arianna was satisfied with her fate, much to Rosa’s despair. Nothing could change what had been done. Arianna had failed to heed Old Mim’s warnings, and she was to serve as the demon’s slave. There would b
e hell to pay back at the coven, let alone what awaited Arianna when she crossed over to the demonic plain.
For now they lay helpless, breathing in the scents of a new morning, holding one another’s hands. With her face concealed by the tall blades of grass surrounding them, Arianna smiled to herself.
The Man at the Window
Elizabeth Coldwell
He stood beneath a lamppost on the corner of the street, seemingly oblivious to the falling snow. Thick flakes dusted the collar of his ankle-length overcoat and clung to his long, dark hair. I had no idea how long he’d been waiting there; only that his black-clad figure stood out in stark contrast to the whiteness of the landscape around him and, disconcertingly, he seemed to be staring up in the direction of our lighted window.
‘Hey, Sara, close the curtain and come to bed.’ I turned to see Marshall patting the covers beside him, blue eyes glittering with lust in the dim light. We’d lit the bedroom with candles, driven by some crazy, romantic impulse that had led me to cook a dinner designed to be eaten with the fingers – figs wrapped in thin slivers of air-dried ham, and asparagus with Hollandaise sauce – that we’d slowly, teasingly fed to each other. The meal had been accompanied by a bottle of good French Chardonnay, and I’d ended up sitting on Marshall’s lap, straddling his thighs as I licked the last of the buttery sauce from his fingers. His cock was an all-too prominent lump, almost seeking to drill its way through the layers of clothing that separated us, and I’d rubbed myself against it, exciting him further. We’d barely left the dining room before we were pulling each other’s clothes off, and now I stood before the window in nothing but my bra and panties, while Marshall was entirely naked, his hard-on tenting the wine-red satin comforter as he waited for me to join him in bed.
‘You know,’ I said, ‘it’s the weirdest thing, but I’d swear that man outside is watching our window.’
‘What man?’ Marshall’s hand groped for the phone I’d hoped he’d left downstairs; there were times I didn’t want his job impinging on our home life, and this was most definitely one of them.
‘Don’t worry, I don’t think he’s casing the house, or anything like that,’ I replied, keen to forestall an anxious and most likely unnecessary call to the police. ‘He just seems to be waiting for someone, but it’s like he can’t take his eyes away from what’s happening up here.’
Marshall pushed back the covers and walked over to join me, his cock bobbing with every step. My gaze was torn between the stranger outside and the sight of that thick, alluring length of naked flesh.
Wrapping his arms around me from behind, my husband rested the point of his chin on my shoulder and stared out into the street. For a moment, neither of us said anything. Marshall might have been assessing the stranger in terms of a potential threat; I was looking at him with more curious eyes. The falling snow hid much of the detail of his features from me, but I had an impression of a long, pale face, dark eyes and a stubbled chin. Younger than Marshall and me, I thought, maybe only in his early twenties. Handsome, as far as I could tell.
Marshall’s breath huffed against my neck, and his hard cock nudged at the crack between my bum cheeks, the slick of precome at its tip dampening the back of my panties. ‘Well,’ he said at length, ‘whoever he is, if he wants something to look at, we’ll give him something …’
As he spoke, he unclipped my bra. It fell open, and his big hands reached to cup my tits. His touch felt so good, palms rubbing my nipples into pebbled points, that I lost any qualms I might have had at being undressed by him in our lighted window. Apart from the man whose gaze never left us, even as he stamped his feet and huddled a little deeper into his overcoat, the street was deserted. Anyone with any sense was already in their beds, or dozing in front of their TV in a warm living room. Whatever we did now would be for an audience of one.
Until tonight, I’d never considered myself the type of woman who’d willingly let her partner undress her while someone else looked on. But as Marshall eased the straps of the bra off my shoulders and let the garment drop to the floor, baring my breasts entirely, a sharp surge of excitement shot through my body. Between my legs, everything was hot and swollen; syrupy juice soaking the crotch of my panties.
‘You know,’ Marshall said, his voice a rough growl in my ear, ‘I was stuck in a really boring meeting today, thinking about you. Thinking how much I wanted to come home and fuck my gorgeous wife …’
When we’d first got together, he would ring me from the office, spinning all manner of filthy fantasies while giving his secretary every appearance of being on a boring work call. I’d forgotten what a powerful tool of arousal his words could be, delivered in that soft Mancunian drawl.
‘Well, don’t just think about it. Do it,’ I urged him. ‘Slide that big hard cock all the way inside me.’
He almost ripped my panties in his haste to take them off. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so eager to bury himself in my body. Gripping my arse cheeks, he pulled them apart, encouraging me to spread wide for him.
Glancing down into the street, I confirmed to myself that we were still being watched. The stranger couldn’t hear us, but the urgency of our movements must have communicated itself to him. My breasts jiggled, full and heavy, as Marshall guided me into position, and I grabbed the white-painted window sill.
‘Are you ready?’ Marshall asked. It was a needless question. One swipe of his fingers over the cleft of my sex would have told him how wet and open I was, how tense with need. The head of his dick nudged at me, seeking entry. Parting my lips with my own fingers, I gave him all the help he needed to slide home.
At first, he tormented me with shallow thrusts, promising more than they delivered. His hand roamed over my tits, pinching them between his thick fingers. Desperate for more, I pushed my arse back at him, seeking to draw his cock further inside.
‘Look at him,’ Marshall said. I couldn’t see, but I suspected he was gesturing with a nod of his head towards the man outside. ‘I bet he’s hard as steel in his underwear. He can see those juicy tits of yours and he’s just thinking what it would be like to bite down on your nipple, making you squeal and beg for more …’
As he spoke, he crushed my nipple till the sensation was almost painful. My pussy pulsed around the fraction of Marshall’s cock that was lodged inside it, and I thought of the stranger’s mouth on my breast, his fingers delving in my cunt. A helpless moan escaped my lips, and Marshall reeled me a little further into the fantasy.
‘I’d let him fuck you, you know. Whatever he wanted to do, because we’d both know you were ripe for it. Just think, Sara – I’d give another man the freedom to have whichever of your holes he cared to use. Your mouth, your pussy, your tight little arse …’
The images he weaved had me almost frantic with need. I couldn’t take his teasing any longer. ‘God, Marshall, fuck me properly,’ I begged.
‘Anything you say, sweetheart.’ With that, my husband thrust into me so hard he almost drove the breath from me. He filled me to the hilt, every inch of him clutched in my wet, tight grasp. When he started to fuck me in earnest, he pushed me forward so far my nose almost banged against the window pane. My grip on the sill tightened till my knuckles were white as the snow outside.
Holding my hips, Marshall banged into me, steady as a metronome. Normally, we took things slow and easy, gazing into each other’s eyes and sharing tender kisses as we made love. This was anything but tender, and I knew I’d pay for it in the morning, but right now it was just what I needed.
Dropping a finger to the apex of my thighs, I applied the merest pressure to my clit. The fierce sensations rolling through my belly told me just how close I was to coming. Looking outside for the first time since this whole bizarre scene began, I swore I actually made eye contact with our mysterious voyeur. That dark gaze locked with mine as Marshall’s thrusts grew faster, more disconnected. The room smelled of sex, and Marshall’s sweat-slick groin slapped against my arse with every stroke. I knew
my husband’s orgasm couldn’t be far away now, and I rubbed my clit in earnest, doing my best to synchronise my climax with his. We didn’t quite manage it. My pussy clenched tight around his length as I came, moments before he called my name and filled me with his seed.
Gasping, pressing my forehead against the window and letting the welcome coldness seep through my overheated body, I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the man who’d been watching us had vanished, swallowed up by the swirling snow. I didn’t have too long to think about him, as Marshall pulled me into his arms, kissing me and telling me how fantastic I’d been. Wrapped in each other’s arms, we fell back on to the bed.
* * *
I was still thinking about the stranger as I did my shopping the following morning. Those dark eyes still seemed to burn into my skin, and I had no doubt he’d enjoyed every minute of the show we’d put on for him. But I still had no idea who he was, or why he’d been paying so much attention to us.
Still, it was the first real adventure we’d had since we came here. When Marshall had received the news of his promotion, I’d been delighted, until I’d realised it would mean moving to Bruges. Marshall had been most enthusiastic about the prospect. It meant more money, greater prestige, and we’d be accommodated in a property the company owned, so we wouldn’t have to go to all the hard work of finding somewhere to live and dealing with whatever paperwork and legal issues that might entail. But I didn’t want to relocate; we were settled in Oxford, and had been for more than ten years. I didn’t relish the idea of having to pack up my life and start again on the other side of the Channel.
If nothing else, it would mean giving up work. I earned a small but steady income, giving intense tutoring to students in areas where they were weak, to help them pass their A levels and university entrance exams – ‘cramming’, as they called it in public school circles. We didn’t need the money, not with Marshall’s salary, but it gave me a measure of independence. Otherwise, I’d be just another kept woman, like the wives I mingled with at Marshall’s company functions, devoted to their shopping and their spa days and their long lunches. They lacked nothing in the way of material comforts but were without an interesting thought in their heads. The prospect of ending up like them horrified me.
