by Morgan Hawke
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Demoness
Copyright ã 2003 Morgan Hawke
ISBN: 1-55410-004-6
Cover art and design by Martine Jardin
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by eXtasy Books, a division of Zumaya Publications, 2003
Look for us online at:
www.zumayapublications.com
www.Extasybooks.com
For Jessica, My Lady Malora...
Prologue:
Toronto, Canada in winter.
Modern day…
"Marco, what are you up to?” Cassandra couldn’t see a thing past the silk scarf he’d tied around her eyes. The blindfold closed her world to only sound and sensation. Experimentally, she twisted her wrists in the thick, soft rope that bound them together and then to the barred, brass headboard. The rope was pliant cotton but the knots were out of finger reach.
“Who me?” His voice was smoky and deep and came from somewhere below her unbound feet. It sent chills down her spine. Marco was one of her favorite people to stay with while she was in town on one of her extended Exotica Feature Entertainer Gentleman’s Club Tours, where she did exhibition erotic dance shows in the nude. Most importantly, Marco was into the same kinky sex she was. The fact that Marco was a fellow Satanist was nice too.
“Yes, you, you pervert.” Restlessly she shifted on her belly, her hips supported by a thick satin pillow that she knew was as scarlet as the sheets.
“I’m the pervert? You were the one who asked to be tied to the bed.” His chuckle was warm and intimate. She could just see his sardonic grin in her mind’s eye. Marco was tall, dark and gorgeous with long black curls, a tight, muscular body and golden eyes.
She felt his breath on the back of her calf. An involuntary shiver raised the hairs on her legs, then traveled up her back. She clenched her hands on the rope that bound her to the headboard. “This blindfold was not my idea.”
The bed dipped at her feet as he climbed on. “I thought it would add spice.”
She felt something brush the back of her thigh. That’s his long black hair, she thought. It is so unfair, a man shouldn’t have hair that beautiful. She stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. She had been envious of his silky, waist-length curls ever since she met him two years ago at the nightclub where she had been a Feature Exotic Entertainer.
There was a sharp whistle, then the sound of suede leather striking flesh. She gasped with the delayed sting on her left butt-cheek. “Shit!” It hadn’t been his hair on her thighs, but his braided flogger.
The flogger whistled and slapped against her right buttock. “Do you want me to stop?” he inquired politely.
“Don’t you dare!” She gasped as he took her at her word, slapping one cheek and then the other, with the soft flogs of the braided whip quickly and efficiently. The flogger was strictly for erotic play and too soft to do any actual damage, but her ass warmed quickly. Abruptly, he stopped.
She felt his open wet mouth on the lower curve of her warmed buttock and let out a soft moan.
“Liked that, did you?” She felt the bed shift, then felt his strong thighs on either side of hers, trapping her legs in their masculine warmth.
She let out a breathy sigh that was practically a purr. “I love it when you spank me.”
“Of course you do, you’re a naughty girl.” His heavy body fell, pushing her deep into the mattress. His thighs tightened around hers, then his arms slid around her, holding her deliciously immobile. She could feel his rigid erection pressing against the seam of her naked and very warm buttocks.
“I think I like this game,” he whispered directly into her ear. His hardness slid up against her ass and back.
Her reply was a throaty moan and another involuntary shudder. He held her legs tight together with his thighs, then shifted his weight above her. She felt the hardness of his cock nose between her thighs, then it made contact with the damp opening to her body.
“Hmm, you’re very wet. I think you like this game too.”
“Quit teasing me and fuck me,” she snapped with impatience, trembling in anticipation.
“As you command.” He grunted and slid within.
They both groaned. Cassandra went mindless with pleasure as he filled her with his silky smooth, marble hardness. Her body clenched deliciously and greedily around him.
“Satan’s prick, you’re tight in this position,” he gasped then pulled back and thrust.
“Just don’t stop,” she gasped out.
With clockwork regularity, he thrust and withdrew. Their bodies grew slick with sweat. The sound of flesh and moist suction grew loud, punctuated by groans and gasps. His breathing deepened.
“I hope you’re not in the mood for something extended...” With agonizing slowness, he pulled back and slid in again. “I don’t think I can take too much of your tight cunt.” His warm, solid body held her still for his repeated and far too slow thrusts. She could just imagine the ferocious look of concentration that was creasing his brow.
A warm roil of intense rapture, just short of orgasm made her struggle to writhe below him. She jerked on the binding ropes and fought to push back, but his weight prevented her from doing more than clenching her buttocks.
“Faster!” she whimpered. “Do me faster...”
“You’re too impatient.” He slowed even more.
“Don’t stop!”
“I’m not stopping.” He chuckled and she bucked under him in impatience. “I just don’t want you going anywhere without me.”
“Bastard!”
“Why, yes I am.” He thrust hard, once, twice, thrice in quick succession. Cassandra whimpered in delight and luscious agony. The bright hard edge of orgasm glimmered.
“Shit,” he said softly. “I’m gonna blow quicker than I thought.” He groaned.
“Now,” she whimpered. “Really hard, fuck me really hard.” She felt him sit up, felt his hand in her hair, felt him wind it around his fist. He tugged and she shuddered with anticipation. He withdrew and surged back with a hammer blow. His thrusts came fast and hard, exactly the way she liked.
“Yes!” she screamed. Orgasm burned bright, crested, then crashed in a wash of curling heat. She howled.
He fell atop her and thrust with violent speed. She felt him pause, thrust and groan. Deep within, she felt him flex as he poured himself into her.
“Satan’s nuts, you’re a great fuck,” he whispered as he nuzzled her ear.
“You too, babe. The best I ever had.” She smiled into the pillow.
* * * *
The ultra-violet tubes lining the interior of the huge tanning bed winked out. Cassandra sighed, yanked the tiny goggles off of her eyes then pushed up the coffin-lid of the tanning bed.
“There really is nothing like a tanning bed to keep you warm in the winter.” Cassandra ran her palms down her smooth, muscular abdomen, reveling in the warmth that rose from below the surface of her dark golden skin like an internal electric blanket.
“Poor Marco, I thi
nk I wore him out.” She grinned. He was still passed out in the huge bed. She smiled in the ornate mirror by the ultra-modern Sun-Glow tanning bed. Sex usually energized her, it was near impossible to sleep after a really good session—and Marco’s were always really good. “Perfect time to rush down to the basement to catch up on my tan.”
Marco’s house was huge, dark and antique, like something out of a classic black and white, gothic horror movie. The whole rambling edifice was painted in a pale, misty gray trimmed in white. The décor was all stark black and soft gray with just a hint of scarlet. Heavily carved furniture and dark paintings of strange people in weird settings were scattered about the house with intermittent black, marble statues almost as tall as she. The voluminous velvet curtains on the huge smoked windows were a deep scarlet, as were the under-sheets on his massive bed.
“The basement is completely finished in early modern fetish,” she quipped, as though she were a tour guide. Manacles and implements of erotic torture hung on the walls around her.
Lazily she rolled naked out from under the lid, then stood up. Raising her arms over her head, she stretched then groaned.
“Oh, Lord of the Underworld, I think I overdid it this time.” Her shoulders, hips and thighs ached. “That is the last time I spend so much time up on the pole at any strip club.” She groaned again as she dropped into an elegant split to stretch her thighs. “I don’t care how much money they offer the Exotica Talent Agency; they can get another Feature Entertainer to drive all the way to Hell and Gone Canada, then do all that gymnastic bullshit.”
Turning to her reflection in the ornate, gilt mirror on the brick wall behind her, Cassandra did a quick all over check to be sure that she hadn’t burned anything tender, like her freshly shaven mound. The scarlet nails on her fingertips gently touched the neatly trimmed red curls, pleased with its shape of the inverted cross.
Well, hey, when you’re a satanic exotic dancer it doesn’t hurt to advertis,’ she mused as she pulled the elastic from her fiery red hair. The shining waves tumbled down to sweep and curl lazily around her hips. The basement of Marco’s old Victorian mansion was normally chilly, but after spending quality time lounging under the electric sun, she felt nice and toasty.
“Hmm… I wonder what Marco has planned for me tonight?” With a smirk at herself in the mirror, she fastened her Baphomet pendant around her throat.
With quick, efficient movements she picked up her red silk thong then stepped into it. “I’m going to have to get more of these. Marco is far too fond of snipping these off of me with one of his ritual daggers.” She licked her plump red lips as she shimmied into her tight black jeans.
“Naughty me, no bra,” she said as she pulled on her favorite Black Sabbath band t-shirt. Fussily, she slid her feet into her sandals. It just wouldn’t do to ruin her new pedicure by wearing shoes. She wiggled her dark ruby toes and smiled. She took a last moment to admire the way her sharply pointed, freshly painted fingernails matched her toes perfectly.
Gleefully, she turned and headed out of the tiny room set aside for the tanning bed. Cassandra grabbed the handrail of the stairs that lead to the mansions upper rooms when she noticed a powerful odor of sulfur in the air.
Burnt matches? Cassandra thought in surprise. Where’s that smell of sulfur coming from?
Everything suddenly went very weird. There was a whoosh, and she was falling. Then the world abruptly went away.
Chapter One:
Conjured!
Paris, France in winter,
the Middle Ages…
What the hell?” Cassandra said as she looked around sharply. “Wait a minute, where are my clothes?” She was standing stark naked in a huge open room with distant walls of mortared stone and a high ceiling supported by thick stone pillars. Slowly, she turned in a complete circle. Deep shadows pooled in the corners, barely held at bay by the flames that danced on thick red pillar candles on five standing candelabras stationed around her.
She was atop a wide circular platform of carved wood that was raised about two feet off the stone floor. There was a complicated design painted into the deep grooves of the platform and yet another design drawn on the stone floor, all the way around the platform.
It’s a kind of a star within a circle within a star design. She frowned. Why does this look familiar? She tilted her head to get a good look at the whole design. I have seen this before. This is an honest-to-Satan demon-conjuring pentagram! She blinked and her eyes widened.
Wait a minute, all the lines are glowing in color...She swallowed and felt her hands grow icy-cold. Holy shit, the drawing on the stone floor is moving!
The circles and complicated diagrams churned slowly around her in opposing directions. The letters changed and transformed, twisting and writhing in ever-shifting phrases written in a language she couldn’t read. And she was standing in the very center where, according to this diagram, a demon was supposed to appear.
Sharply, she turned all the way around then noticed a short man with a very surprised look on his face. He was staring straight at her from behind what looked like a bulky wooden teacher’s podium. He didn’t look old, but no one in the world would ever called him good-looking. His dark greasy hair was spiked as though he had slept on it, and his face was none too clean. However, his clothes were incredible; long black robes encrusted with golden gemstones and heavily embroidered with mystical symbols in gold thread brushed the floor around him.
Have I been kidnapped? Cassandra’s fear quickly became anger. “Okay asshole, who the fuck are you, and what the hell am I doing in your basement?” Cassandra snapped.
Barely able to peel his eyes from Cassandra’s naked golden form, he glanced down at the huge, black leather-bound book sitting on top of the wooden podium. Flipping hurriedly through the oversized pages, he found his passage, then mumbled something in what sounded an awful lot like heavily accented church Latin.
Cassandra felt a shifting in her head, as though her brain was moving in her skull. Suddenly she understood everything he was saying. “Okay, this is getting way too weird for me,” she whispered in fright.
“—I invoke you in the name of Lucifer, Lord of Blood and Darkness to obey my commands, oh Demoness of the Pit,” he finished with a flourish.
“Your commands? My ass! I’ll show you, you little shit!” she swore viciously, then took a lunging step toward the guy.
She yelped, having slammed into a rubbery wall that she couldn’t see. Raising her hands in curiosity, she felt about and discovered a kind of invisible force field that seemed to be right on the edge of the inner circle drawn at her feet. She followed the invisible wall all the way around. She was trapped. She couldn’t pass the circle’s boundaries.
But if this is a circle meant to contain a demon and I can’t pass it, then this means that… Her brow furrowed in confusion, then her violet eyes widened in surprise. I’m supposed to be the demon? Being considered a demon was kinda cool, but then again, it kinda wasn’t.
“Hey! Let me out of here, you freak!” she shouted, banging a fist on the force field. “You got your damned spell wrong, you idiot!” It gave a hollow wobbling sound but stayed right where it was. “You didn’t get a demon, you moron! You conjured a stripper!” She was ignored as the short guy in the long robes continued to chant.
She winced. Well, I do kinda worship Satan, she thought, but that doesn’t make me demonic... Does it?
Cassandra’s cursing and swearing got creative.
Intoning in a deep, monotonous voice, he stepped out from behind the podium then marched, right up to the circle’s edge. He finished his mantra in a flourish of exotic phrases and gestures. “Demoness,” he announced, pointing a finger at Cassandra.
“What?” she sputtered, her cursing brought to a sudden halt.
The short guy stared into her startled eyes. “I command you to seduce The Holy Inquisitor, Monsignor Casca Renaldo Cervantes of the Holy Order of the Dominicans, currently ensconced in the Our Lady of Paris C
athedral. I command you to take his virginity and then deliver him to your Infernal Master.”
Cassandra blinked. “Let me get this straight. You want me to seduce a priest?”
He nodded curtly.
She snorted. “Hell, I’d do a priest for you without all this—” She waved her hand around indicating the ritual site. “Getup,” she finished with a smug smile. He won’t be the first priest I’ve seduced, she thought to herself, and if I have anything to say about it, he certainly won’t be the last!
Something abruptly bonged in Cassandra’s head. A wave of heat slithered up her body like exploring hands on her flesh. It felt as though something else was moving inside her body, rummaging around under her skin and lurking at the back of her mind. Cassandra’s nipples and every hair on her body stood upright. To her complete and utter surprise, her mouth popped open.
“I hear and obey, Master.” The words just leapt out of her mouth. Something else was driving the car, making her body move by itself. Well, shit. Looks like I am the demon.
“Come, Demoness,” he demanded, imperiously holding out his hand.
Cassandra flinched at the command, but was strangely powerless to resist his direct order.
Cautiously, she placed her palm in his waiting hand and cringing, stepped forward. Whoa, no ‘boing’, she thought as she passed the circle’s boundary to stand next to him. Cassandra blinked as she realized that he was seriously shorter than her. The top of his head only came to her chin.
“I am Magister Chevalier le Duc,” he said with grave courtesy. “Welcome to Paris.”
“I’m in Paris? As in Paris, France?” Cassandra squeaked. Am I speaking French? Wait a minute, my words do feel a little funny. I can understand what’s being said, but if I think about it, the words sound wrong... She felt something shifting in her mind again.
Yes, it whispered.
“You are.” The Magister nodded briefly.
