Demoness

by Morgan Hawke

  A dark red powder was presented to Cassandra. She sniffed it suspiciously. It smelled like very clean dirt. Oiling her lips lightly, she then brushed her lips with the red powder. Her lips took the stain quickly and darkened to a deep crimson. She added a touch of gold dust and achieved a glistening ruby that went nicely with her nails. She smiled at her reflection.

  Cassandra was hustled out of the room and hurried down the halls by the clucking maids. At the top of a staircase, the maids set her free and bade her go down. Carefully lifting the gold and velvet skirts, Cassandra glided down the broad staircase.

  Chapter Four:

  Appointment

  As she descended the stairs in her silent slippers, Cassandra noticed the Magister waiting at the bottom. His strong blunt hand rested on the newel post as he gazed out the wide-open double doors.

  Well, I guess he’s not a vampire, she mused as she admired the way the sunlight defined the strong planes of his face. He really does clean up nice, she thought in appreciation. He looked dashing to Cassandra in his suit of black velvet trimmed in silky black fur. Tiny jewels of garnet and onyx winked amongst the heavy folds of his robes. His hair gleamed clean and golden in the streaming sunlight.

  The Magister jerked around as he caught the sound of her whispering velvets. His eyes opened wide as he gazed upon her. Cassandra bathed in the glow of his admiration as she descended the last few steps. He bowed deeply, and Cassandra found herself answering with not too bad of a curtsy.

  “You could seduce a saint, my Lady Malora,” the Magister said softly with a heated gleam in his eye. He dropped a velvet cape across her shoulders winking with garnet and onyx stars, matching his suit then offered his arm.

  “Let’s hope your priest won’t be as difficult as all that,” Cassandra murmured back.

  Gently the Magister took her elbow and guided her out the massive front door to a carriage pulled by six paired black horses. The conveyance was huge, wooden and bulky with grooms riding on all three of the horses on the left. The harnesses were intricate with gold buckles and black plumes on the headstalls of all six horses. A full complement of armed guards rode before and behind in matching gold and black livery.

  Cassandra was seated on the plush cushions of the heavily curtained narrow carriage with the Magister on the seat across from her. He yelled out the window, and the carriage jolted forward onto the uneven paving of the road.

  “So, Master, what’s the plan? How do I go about seducing this priest of yours?” Cassandra asked over the thunder of the wooden wheels on the uneven road.

  “He has a fondness for dancers, the more exotic the better. I told him that I have the most fabulous dancer known to man imported from the furthest reaches of the world. Naturally he had to see you, so I have made an appointment for you.”

  “That sounds simple enough.”

  “Keep in mind, he has armed guards around him always. If you say or do anything to arouse his suspicions, he will have you dragged away to be tortured, then killed.”

  “This is getting more problematic by the moment.” The memory of the dream, or rather, the viewing that her inner roommate had shown her came back in vivid detail. A chill ran down Cassandra’s spine.

  “You must be very careful, Malora. He could easily figure out what you are. He is a sorcerer in his own right.”

  “Oh, joy,” Cassandra, whispered with heavy sarcasm.

  “Just don’t say anything. Smile, and for His Infernal Lord’s sake, keep your eyes lowered! You don’t want him catching sight of the hellfire in your gaze.”

  “Do they really glow with hellfire?” Cassandra was pleased. Where’s a hand mirror when you need one?

  “When you are aroused by your passions, your eyes glow flame gold. You must get him under your spell quickly, then alone to seduce him.”

  “Is there anything else I need to know?”

  “His spells are fueled by the fact that he is a virgin. Once you bring him to climax, his magic will be broken. If you can get him to climax within your body, he will be completely helpless and at your mercy. You will then be able to carry him off to your Infernal Master. Once you have him, your mission will be done and you will be free to go.”

  “All I have to do is make him cum?” Cassandra’s eyes gleamed. “Sounds like a cake-walk to me. Wait, how ugly is this guy? And how old is he?” Cassandra suddenly imagined a battle of epic proportions with her libido. If he turned out to be too nasty, she’d have a real problem touching him, never mind letting him into her body.

  “He’s considered angelic in his physical beauty, and he’s a mature twenty-two.” The Magister sounded disgusted.

  “He’s resisted every attempt to seduce him so far. He’s so beautiful that every girl we sent to him became enamored with him and confessed before they were able to finish what they were sent for. We suspect that his sorcery merely enhances his personal charm.”

  “What happened to the girls?”

  “He had them killed, naturally. By strangling.”

  “Naturally, by strangling.” Cassandra swallowed in sympathy. “What made you decide on conjuring up a demon?”

  “His magic was too powerful for any ordinary mortal woman to resist. The most talented courtesans and dancers we could find were all overcome with love for him in a matter of minutes. It was decided that we needed something stronger and more resistant to his spells.”

  “And so, here I am. I can’t wait to pit my, um, powers against his.” She could feel her inner roommate’s confidence. “I just have one more question. What has this guy done, besides killing dancers, that you felt the need to have him carried off to Hell by a demon?” She raised her hands. “Don’t get me wrong, killing dancers is good enough reason for me.”

  “He is a Holy Inquisitor. He insists that he is just here on a visit, but he has been here for a full month. There are many sorcerers here in Paris. They’re afraid that they will be discovered. He only needs to find one of us and he will find us all.”

  “Am I really seducing one of the Spanish Inquisition?” The Magister nodded and Cassandra dissolved into a fit of giggles. “That is so funny! I’ve always wanted a chance at one of those fuckers!”

  “I assure you, Malora, it is no laughing matter for us.” The Magister frowned heavily, his arms folded against his chest.

  “Let’s see how the Spanish Inquisition handles a real live demon.” She licked her lips in anticipation. “This ought to be fun! And, as to him being too pretty for me to resist, I really don’t think I’ll have a problem, I’ve seen far too many truly gorgeous hunks in my life to be impressed by anyone,” she said with a chuckle.

  As if, this century could come up with anything that would impress me, she though to herself. I’d like to see this guy compete with Lorenzo Lamas, or even Nicholas Cage!

  Cassandra mused in silence for some minutes, then a thought occurred to her. This guy is used to being around some of the most beautiful women in this world. She pursed her lips. I know I’m damn cute, but… It probably couldn’t hurt to stack the deck just a little.

  Closing her eyes, she concentrated on finding her inner darkling roommate, the power that swam under her skin. It pushed through the waves of the inner sea of her being, then swelled closer to her thoughts, shy as a cat. She held a question out to the tide of power, forming her thought as clearly as she could.

  The power joyfully overtook her body in a warm wave that washed her completely from toe to hair-tip. A light scent of sulfur and Egyptian musk wafted very gently in the close confines of the rocking coach.

  “What are you doing?” the Magister asked in hushed tones.

  “Let’s just say I’m tipping the scales a little more in my favor.” Cassandra was surprised to discover that the power had more than arisen to the task. Her voice was suddenly incredibly melodious and sultry. She opened her eyes. “What do you think?”

  “Malora, what exactly have you done?” The Magister was panting, his fists gripped the handles of the coach wit
h white knuckles. There was a pronounced bulge under his codpiece.

  “Why, I’ve made myself irresistible, of course.” She smiled and the Magister choked in reaction. “So, what do you think? Will I do?” Cassandra batted her lashes at him.

  The Magister answered by falling to his knees. With shaking hands he lifted her skirts. Cassandra parted her thighs and smiled as he buried his face in her fragrant pussy. His tongue was delicious and hot as he delved into the delicate folds, sucking and lapping noisily. The point of his tongue found her clit and he teased it mercilessly.

  Mmm, twice in one day! I’m doing good! Opening herself wide, Cassandra leaned back against the cushions and raised her hips to his mouth. Using the full length of his tongue, he burrowed into her wet depths, stabbing in and fucking her with it. As she writhed under the delicate torture of his lips and tongue, he released her thighs.

  He pulled a glove off of one hand to sink two fingers into her soaking flesh, and then stroked them slowly in, then out. He fluttered his tongue against her sensitive clit and she moaned deeply. Unable to stop herself, she gripped his hair in her hand and rolled, crushing her pussy against his lips. Moaning, Cassandra shook as the pleasure rose up. He lapped noisily as she soaked him in her pearly juices.

  Her demonic power stirred to sudden and ferocious life and rapture blazed through her. The Magister cried out as her power shoved him into an orgasm his body was helpless to resist. He cried out against her flesh even as she sighed in repletion.

  “Did you just cum in your pants?” Cassandra asked in delighted wickedness.

  “Demonic bitch,” he swore as he pulled out a silk handkerchief to clean himself.

  A shout from one of the coachmen hurriedly brought the Magister back to his seat. In a clatter of shod hooves, the coach rumbled to a jerky halt. Men shouted all around them and horses called out in indignation. The Magister pulled out a second lace handkerchief from his embroidered sleeve. Quickly he wiped his face of her essence, taking a moment to savor the aroma before tucking the bit of lace away.

  Cassandra stretched like a well-fed cat on the cushions then tucked her skirts back into place. “Thank you, that was very nice,” she purred. Her smile was completely lascivious.

  “Malora, we have arrived,” he said, passion coloring his voice. “You realize that one way or another, this is farewell.”

  “I guess it is.” Cassandra touched his sleeve. “Take care of yourself, Master, I had a wonderful time.” Their gazes locked. So far anyway…

  “That reminds me,” the Magister said. Darting to her side like a snake, he grabbed her gently but firmly by the throat. Using his free hand, he made a gesture and muttered something in a quick spat of Latin.

  Cassandra choked as she felt something settle around her throat. “What the hell?” Her words came out in a torrent of nonsense. Touching her neck with her fingers, she could feel nothing; but Something was definitely there and it was messing with her ability to speak.

  “Although you will understand everything spoken around you, you will not be understood,” The Magister said as he tugged his gloves back on. “I can understand you as I placed the spell, but I cannot have you reveal and betray me should you fail and be put under torture.” The Magister looked unhappy, but determined. “This was done to all the maids we sent to him so that they could not reveal us through confession under torture. I’m sorry, but it had to be done for you as well.”

  “Fuck you,” Cassandra said with venom. Yup, she thought as she saw him flinch, he can understand every word.

  The coach door was jerked open.

  Cassandra followed him through the narrow wooden coach door and gasped at the door they were within feet of. Dark pillars and carvings soared several stories high around a door carved with hoards of people contorted and in agonizing pain. She found herself staring up at a monstrous king overlooking the door – and staring right back. The carved head tilted down to stare wide eyed and intimidating. Wait a minute! I know this place! She looked sharply around. Where have I seen this before?

  Cassandra felt her elbow grabbed and was jerked through the open door by the Magister. She jerked her elbow back and glared as he led her into a broad hall. Someone in long red robes was waiting for them at the end of the hall.

  “Keep your eyes down,” the Magister whispered sharply.

  Cassandra dropped her gaze to the stones at her feet. A touch on her elbow stopped her.

  “I would like to present to you the dancer Serena.” The Magister’s voice was rich but humble as he bowed. Cassandra curtsied in a graceful fall of red velvet and gold lace.

  Serena? Cassandra thought with a start. Well, he could have warned me that he was changing my name. She tilted her head as she thought about it. I guess it makes sense. He thinks Malora is my demonic name and he certainly wouldn’t want the Inquisitor to have that. Serena is not too bad a choice. Though it’s a good thing Television hasn’t been invented yet or he’d catch the ‘Bewitched’ reference, as in: Samantha’s wicked sister.

  “The dancer Serena. Well, she certainly is lovely,” the Monsignor, said in a soft melodious voice. He cupped a velvet-gloved hand under Cassandra’s chin and raised her face to look upon her.

  Startled, she looked up into his blue eyes before veiling her eyes with her lashes.

  Well, he certainly is pretty, Cassandra thought. She looked up carefully at the Monsignor from below her lashes as she continued to kneel.

  He could give Leonardo DeCaprio a run for his money, but I’m not about to fall down in a swoon over him. She examined the Monsignor of the Holy Inquisition. He looked very young in his holy robes of black and scarlet. Not too bad a body on him, but I’ve seen better. She smiled. This will be a cakewalk.

  “And clean, how novel,” the Monsignor murmured.

  Cassandra felt a flicker of cool power and realized that the little sorcerer was trying to en-spell her. She smiled as it fizzled against her own volcanic demon-borne power. Her roommate took that opportunity to ride the backwash of his spell and slide into the Monsignor, reversing the effects of the fizzled love spell.

  The Monsignor frowned, a crease puckering his smooth and oh-so-perfect brow. Then his eyes opened wide, as though seeing Cassandra for the first time. He licked his lips.

  Oh, look! She thought in delight. I’m seeing lust at first sight! Cassandra thought maliciously. Let’s see how you like the tables turned on you, my Pretty Boy! Cassandra could practically smell the carnal appetite rolling off of him.

  He released her chin. “You may rise,” he said in his soft, beautiful voice.

  Cassandra rose to her full height and gazed down at the ever-so-Holy Monsignor. He was taller than the Magister, but still not quite up to Cassandra’s eye level. Everyone is so short around here! she thought in barely concealed amusement.

  “She’s an Amazon, as well.” The Monsignor’s brow rose with a touch of distain. “I prefer them a little more delicate. Let us hope she’s worth all the food she must go through for her upkeep,” he practically sneered, then looked hard at the Magister. “You are clean as well,” his delicate brows raised in surprise. “I can actually stand to be in your presence for once,” he said then turned away.

  What a little prick! Cassandra mused with a flash of temper. I’m going to enjoy taking this little shit down then I’m going to enjoy making him scream as he cums in my Gate to Hell. Cassandra was just a little startled by her own vehemence.

  “A dancer, you say,” the Monsignor drawled in apparent boredom. “I will see her then, and we shall see what entertainments she can provide.” The Monsignor turned a sharp gaze to the Magister. “If she proves to be as unique an experience as you promise, I shall see that you are amply rewarded.”

  “Truly, there is no one like Serena in the known world. As to a reward, Monsignor, your pleasure will be my reward,” deferred the Magister from a deep bow. Truth rang in every word he uttered.

  At a gesture from the Monsignor, a blank-faced guard dressed in long r
ed robes and armor stepped forward with a subtle clank and bowed to Cassandra. With a last curtsey to the Monsignor and a final dip of her head to the Magister, she turned and strode after the guard.

  Chapter Five:

  Danse Macabre

  The palace where the Monsignor was staying was epic in proportions. She’d seen stadiums smaller than this. Everything was done in white marble and red velvet. Religious paintings, and not so religious Greek pastoral paintings all in gilt frames decorated all the walls. Frescos were painted directly on the plaster in some places. Tall marble nude statues of plump women sat in niches everywhere.

  What a little hedonist! Cassandra thought to herself as she followed the guard to the very end of a long corridor. A pair of two-story heavily gilded oak doors was opened for her, and a red curtain was pushed aside.

  Cassandra ducked within, and the guard closed the doors behind her. The room was dark, huge and empty of all furnishings. The floors were china smooth and done in white marble. Two massive white marble fireplaces warmed the room on opposing walls. Heavily curtained windows that reached from floor to ceiling covered the entire back wall. The room was lit with several braziers and not a few standing candelabras, but shadows swamped the far corners.

  In one corner sat three musicians. Together they rose and approached. One of them was the Gypsy she had kissed for her last performance. He grinned in feral greeting, his eyes still alive with the hellfire she had given him with her kiss.

  “Well met, my Lady,” bowed the possessed Gypsy.

  “You seem to be popular around town,” quipped Cassandra with a smile. “Everywhere I go, there you are,” she said to the Gypsy, then flinched. Every word she’d uttered had come out garbled. Damn.

  “I count myself blessed to be in your presence once again, and I have indeed grown popular about town lately. Especially since our last encounter.” He was smiling but his eyes held a strangely possessive heat