by Rue Volley
“What now?” Asmodeus asked. “You’ve got me, let Selina go. She means nothing to you.”
“Perhaps not, but she is everything to you.” Samael sneered. “I can see it when you look at her. You have that same sickening weakness in your eyes, like when you came to us so long ago. You haven’t had that look since you first told me about the king’s wife, the one that got you cursed.”
“It’s called love. Besides, what do my feelings matter to you?”
“You disgust me. You still feel like a human, you love like a human, and yet you rule a throne in Hell. Fuck you and your witch. I will have the throne that should’ve been mine.”
In an instant Samael was transformed once more into a flaming werewolf. He turned to Selina and she fought the urge to scream.
“I’ll huff and I’ll puff,” he teased.
Samael took a deep breath and blew a ball of fire toward the platform. This time, Selina screamed as the kindling ignited.
Asmodeus extended his right arm and a whip that seemed to be made of fire appeared in his hand. With a flick of his wrist the whip hissed through the air toward Samael. The hellhound did a rolling tumble and the fiery weapon missed its mark.
“You should hurry,” Samael teased. “That wood will burn fast.”
About this time, Selina untied her bonds, but the flames were too high for her to jump down. Through the fire she saw Samael lunge at Asmodeus, his claws tearing across her lover’s chest. Samael was right, she did have a terrible fear of burning. She clung to the pole in the middle of the platform and did the only thing she could think of, she closed her eyes and began to chant.
Over and over she repeated the protection spell. She visualized a translucent blue wall surrounding her, protecting her from the flames. When she realized the fire wasn’t burning her, she opened her eyes.
Selina found an opening through the flames and though she looked for Asmodeus, she never stopped chanting. Samael was closest to her. His back had several slashes, no doubt from the whip.
“Your witch is dead,” he taunted. “She is not even screaming.”
“You’re a fucking moron,” Asmodeus growled.
He lunged forward and clapped his wings against the hellhound’s head. Samael howled and stumbled. Before Asmodeus could hit him with the whip, Samael leapt at him. They fell to the ground and rolled almost completely out of Selina’s sight.
The two struggled to their feet as Samael snapped his jaws, but failed to make contact. Asmodeus lowered his head and gored the hellhound with his horns. Selina cringed, but never stopped chanting.
With a flick of his wrist, Asmodeus wrapped the flaming whip around the hellhound’s throat.
“Do it,” Samael growled.
“I’ve got something else in mind. Break the circle.”
Samael hesitated and Asmodeus pulled the whip tighter. Selina thought the stomach wound was enough to kill anything, but apparently hellhounds were tougher than she’d guessed.
“Break the circle,” he commanded.
Samael said something she couldn’t hear above the roar of the fire.
“It’s done,” the hound said.
“Valefur, come forth,” Asmodeus said.
A tall man with long blond hair appeared behind him. He was completely naked and his pale skin glowed in the moonlight.
“You called?” the blond said.
“I have a gift for you,” Asmodeus said.
Valefur smiled down at the kneeling hellhound. “He’s already in enough trouble.”
“Really?”
“Azazel wants him. It seems he would be rewarded only if he succeeded.” He gestured toward Samael’s savaged stomach. “Obviously, he failed.”
He gave the whip to Valefur who immediately tightened it on Samael’s throat.
With a flap of his wings Asmodeus lifted off the ground. He descended on the platform in front of Selina, arms wide in invitation. She was so surprised she stopped chanting. Seeing his true form from a distance was one thing. Being this close to his demon form was another.
“Why aren’t you burning?” she asked.
The flames roared higher as he answered, “I’m fireproof.”
She thought when he emerged from the fire that first night that it was a one-time thing.
Selina took a step toward him and he shielded her from the fire, wrapping her in his wings. Asmodeus held her tight against him as he leapt through the flames to safety. The platform crumbled an instant later.
“I’m sorry I took so long,” he said softly.
He unfurled his wings, but still held her in his arms.
“What if I hadn’t known that chant?” she asked.
“Then I would’ve thrown myself in the fire sooner. I would never let you die, let alone burn.”
She took a step back from him and a really good look.
“Here I am,” he said, “hooves and all. I’ll understand if you don’t want to—”
“Which aspects will I take on?” she interrupted.
“I honestly don’t know. It won’t be the whole package. Wait, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I’ve made my decision,” she said. Selina gestured toward his hooves. “This is all superficial. I knew what you were when I summoned you. Seeing what’s beneath your human skin is a little shocking, but not the deal breaker you seem to imagine.”
He laughed softly. “I never expected to hear that.”
Selina reached up to touch his horns as she whispered, “Kiss me and let’s get this over with.”
Samael gave a howl of protest that was quickly turned to a yelp as Valefur tightened the whip.
Selina’s heart hammered against her ribs at a frightful pace as Asmodeus pulled her near.
“This won’t hurt,” he said softly.
His lips were warm against hers, and at first nothing felt different. Then it began, a warming sensation that started in her throat. She could feel his power moving through her, coursing through her veins. It was like a strong shot of whiskey, intoxicating and sinuous, yet it burned.
“It is finished,” Asmodeus said as he pulled back from her. “How do you feel?”
Selina looked down at her hands. She glowed from the inside out, like Asmodeus had that first night when he emerged from the fire.
“You’re beautiful,” Valefur said from behind her. “It was my honor to witness this, but I must be returning with the prisoner.”
“What do I look like?” Selina asked, reaching up to check for horns.
Valefur smiled and nodded toward Asmodeus. “The wings should only appear when you work a spell. Other than that, you’ll look the same.”
“The initial glow will fade in a few hours,” Asmodeus explained. He turned his attention to Valefur. “Thank you.”
The blond demon smiled again as he tore open a portal with a wave of his hand. Selina stared in awe of his power as Valefur forced Samael through the portal. In a flash they were gone.
“That portal thing was pretty impressive,” she said.
Asmodeus shrugged. “I taught him everything he knows.”
Selina flexed her wings enough to get a look at them. They appeared to be made of smoke, but felt as solid as any other part of her.
“Those should fade soon too. I could keep this form for a while if you like, so you won’t feel alone, or I could take my human form again.”
She looked him up and down. “Leave the horns,” she said teasingly.
“Kinky.”
The playful tone was gone from his voice as he said, “You have freed me. There are no words to thank you for that.”
Selina pulled him close, overcome with emotion. “Words are not what I had in mind.”
THE END
Hell's Indiscretion
Josephine Ballowe
©Text Copyright 2014 Josephine Ballowe
Two weeks ago a client asked if he could eat me. I don’t mean eat me in the shove your face fiercely between my thighs manner or forcing h
is tongue deep inside me and licking me until I scream with pleasure sort of way.
No, not like that at all. He meant to eat me, with his teeth and jaws type of way – working his way from my fingers, up my arms, swallowing me whole kind of way. That fellow I knew was crazy and I left him right where I found him. As if I won’t need my skin anytime soon.
I’m not a judgmental person. I’ve been on my own since I was 17 – making my way however I could. I’ve had clients want to play vampires before, I’ve had men and women tie me up and spank me. I will say that by far the worst role-play was dressing up like a Victorian nanny while a CEO of large New York department store sucked with my nipples while he wore a diaper. You don’t think that sounds so bad? Well, he peed in it too and I had to change him.
I’ve done all of this with no complaints and I’ve done things most people would never understand. But I believe there is a need for people like me. I keep marriages together and keep men sane. Really, I do. Without me, wives would have to play these games – and if they didn’t they’d have very discontented husbands on their hands. And that is never a good thing. I provide security and connubial bliss around the Big Apple – a necessary outlet for whatever scratches your itch. In fact, doing the most perverted acts is how I make my money – and pretty good money at that.
Last night an older gentleman with an upper class accent wanted me to meet him at bar in a rougher part of the city. His request was that I only to wear a knee length red coat – yes indeed, he specified the color red – and nothing else underneath. He also requested that I have at least “a moderate amount of pubic hair”. I guess the old guy was old school, I don’t know. Lucky for him I was late for my Brazilian waxing.
So off I went. I caught a cab to the bar, fully nude under my coat as requested. He called my cell phone as the cab pulled up and insisted I unbutton the coat. I was to “inadvertently” flash the patrons then shower him with attention and occasionally expose myself. Sounds simple, right? In my business, my priority is to do whatever the client likes and wherever they want it done. Flashing a few drunks was easy money for sure.
He was easily recognizable; he wore an ascot for fuck’s sake. I breezed through the circular door, unbuttoned, nude, and hairier than I’d like my pussy to be. The room was chilled, the breeze from the door blew open my red coat and a few men noticed the pale skin of my breasts peaking from under my coat. I don’t have big breasts, but I like them small. To be honest, men don’t care about the size – they think they do but I’ve had enough threesomes to know they like the natural feel far more than giant saline bubbles stitched under your skin. This guy had slicked back hair and shiny black shoes and looked very uptight and particular. Easy money, I kept saying to myself, easy money.
Like a gentleman, he rose to greet me and direct me to the table. Or so I thought. “Don’t speak,” he instructs with his stilted and strange voice. Though he must be older than my father, I find his voice stimulating. His hand reached under my coat and cupped my breast. His breath was hot and sweet.
He rolled my nipples between his fingers and pinched them as we walked to the table. It will take way more than that if he wants to make me flinch. As we are stood near the bar, one of the pool players looks at me, intrigued by our little public sex game. Now that made my nipples so firm that I was surprised they didn’t rip their way from under my coat. I look at the smiling bartender and feel my pussy dampen. I moved my client’s hand from my nipples down to my cunt. I push myself against him, rubbing myself against his hand. He withdrew immediately.
“I won’t touch that now,” he said.
“What do you mean by ‘that’?” I answered, somewhat offended.
He kept silent but led me to the backstairs by my nipples. A low growl comes from his throat. I must be crazy – what kind of man can growl like an animal? “Downstairs,” is all he muttered in a guttural deep voice.
“Wonderful,” I answer. I mean, whatever floats your boat.
As we descended the stairs, a strange thumping music assaulted my body. The low bass changed the rhythm of my heart – this wasn’t ordinary techno music. This was something eerie, like the music from a horror movie.
As soon as my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw men and women in various state of arousal. A young raven-haired woman was chained to an iron table; her nipples were being sucked by two older women dressed in crimson robes on either side of her. Between her legs was a man pounding into her with such force I thought the chains would break. But none of that freaked me out. What freaked the shit out of me were the bags of blood hanging from the ceiling in IV bags. The man whose cock was pounding the girls pussy right out from under her was drinking the blood from a tube as he moved. He was greedy, gulping and sucking like an animal. I think the blood turned him on more than the girl.
“What is going on here?” I calmly asked my client. I remained calm because rule #1 in my business is to never seem afraid.
“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” he answered. I looked around the room at the whips and tethers. “They won’t hurt you either,” he added. “But, I would ask that you take your coat off now. This is for pleasure.”
“For pleasure?”
“Yes, our master’s pleasure. The leader of our demonic race. The One we follow before all others.”
“I’ve had enough,” I stated. “Nothing in our agreement stated anything about ‘demonic races’ – I don’t play that rough, usually. At least not the first time.”
“Lisbette,” he began, “there can be no agreement between me and you, for you are one of us.”
“What? Who the hell is Lisbette? My name is Elizabeth, asshole.”
“Perhaps that is what you were told as a child. Perhaps that is what everyone on earth calls you and perhaps that is what you believe. But what you are is a succubus. And I am privileged to be the one who brought you home.”
“Okay,” I said, as I got more and more irritated. “If we are going to play this succubus game and drink this obviously fake blood, your evening is going to cost a lot more!”
“This is no game, Lisbette. This is who we are. This is who you are. Now you have been found and returned to us.”
“Listen!” I screamed. “I’ve been in sex dens before, none of this shocks me,” I lied. “But we need to renegotiate our financial arrangement ASAP or I’m out of here.”
“Lisbette,” he growled. His voice rumbled deep inside his chest. “You will stay. There is no ‘out of here’. You are here now, you are one with us. And finally, there is no arrangement.”
A redhead approached me with a pair of latex panties. “Here, Malcolm.” She never met his eyes. “These are for her.”
Malcolm’s eyes widened as he saw that on the inside were not one, but two heavy rubber dildos. “Thank you, Persephone. You may leave now.”
Before Persephone left, she poured lube all over the dildos and pointed for me to step into them. She pulled them up for me, sliding one into my cunt and the other into my ass. I gasped as the dildos settled into place, I felt filled to the limit. Next Persephone pulled out a metal bar, three feet long with shackles on the end. She looked at Malcolm for his approval and he nodded. At this point it sounds silly to call him client, I didn’t know if this was a game or if it was real life.
Persephone expertly buckled my legs into them, leaving my legs spread as wide as they would go.
“Now,” he whispered as a small crowd of masked onlookers gathered around. One man was stroking another man’s cock as I lay on a wooden table. Persephone began to suck on Malcolm’s hard cock. Her hands reached behind and she spread his ass cheeks, gently fingering his asshole. When Malcolm was about to climax, staring down at me with my legs spread, Persephone stopped sucking and fingering him.
“This is what the we have been waiting for.” She brought out a large whip, four feet long of plaited leather, and let it trail lazily behind her. In a flash of ecstasy she forced the handle of the whip into her pussy. She stepped into the large
space between my legs and began grinding against my latex panties, shoving the dildos in further as she rode me scissor style.
“Get off her, Persephone. Stand back,” demanded Malcolm. “You’ve never had this before, have you?” I realized his voice was not so much upperclass Bostonian but more Satanic – deep and low.
I shook my head wildly. Truth is, I have been whipped before and it’s no big deal. But, I had always been in control before. With this group, I had no idea what to expect.
Persephone pulled the back of my hair and tied a gag ball into my mouth. I began to bite down on the gag with anticipation. The sight of men and women watching me turned my on beyond belief. I never thought I was an exhibitionist, and I thought I had done it all. I was ridiculously wrong about that.
I tried to squeeze my legs back together but the bar kept them far apart. I didn’t know whether to fight or to enjoy.
Malcolm smiled as Persephone’s breasts swung side to side, a heavy chain pulled on her nipples. His face showed his pleasure in knowing he could do absolutely anything to anyone.
Persephone took the whip from her wet pussy and passed it to Malcolm. He cracked the whip inches away from my thighs, close enough that I felt the air move around me.
Persephone grabbed the whip from him. “Let me show her how this works.”
Fucking A, I thought. Now some psycho bitch is going to whip me. And guess what? She did. She left a harsh red stripe across the lower part of my backside. I jumped, I had played with many whips before but this one was different – it left a cooling sensation not a harsh pain, and also the marks faded quickly with immense pleasure.
Malcolm touched my ass. “Lisbette…you are truly her…” He touched the fading welt and kissed it, feeling the slightly raised skin on his tongue. I twitched under his touch, surprised how much I enjoyed this. A woman to my right began to orgasm as a short demon licked her pussy, nibbling her clit – sucking it into his mouth and then releasing it. Her orgasm brought a shower of cum across my arm. Malcolm raised the whip again; my ass shook underneath me waiting for the moment of pain and release. He quickly snapped the whip right where the dildo was entering my pussy. I cried out with pleasure. Believe me, yelling in pleasure is very unusual. I am usually a pretty quiet fuck.
