Caught in the Devils' Hand

by Ruby Duvall

  Her hands were now up around her head, her eyes slit open as she watched him orgasm against her. His head was thrown back as he groaned at the cloth ceiling. The gorgeous line of his neck was muscular and graceful at the same time. His bright white hair, looking almost blond in the candlelight, lightly touched his shoulders, and she could see his jaw was stiff.

  Seeing his tense, trembling body kneeling between her legs and watching his cock empty itself onto her belly, she felt wonderfully powerful. The sensations he felt shook through her body as well, making her stiffen and whimper with each tremor, but she forced herself to keep her eyes open, even if the best she could manage was only a peek through heavy eyelids.

  She saw his member give a final jerk and heard his relieved and satisfied sigh, but suddenly, his torso pitched forward. She physically braced herself should he fall on her, but he caught himself again, holding his weight on his palms. They both stayed that way for a long minute, catching their breaths and savoring the lightheadedness.

  She knew that her magic had come out again. She hadn’t tried to stop it, forgetting that she could try, but when it hit Vallen, she could feel a bit of what Majo had described when telling her to simply pull it back, hold it still and keep it quiet. It was like being able to stop your hand from hitting someone or shifting your balance so that you don’t bump into something.

  “I have not experienced such pleasure in centuries,” he croaked, the pitch of his voice almost normal again. She rolled her head back to make eye contact, though the movement was difficult to perform since none of her muscles would move without a great deal of effort. His eyes met hers, and she could tell they were dilated and smoky, even in the dim light of the candles.

  “What did you do to me?” His expression did not tell her much, and neither did his tone, but she knew what he had meant. She knew that her magic had reached out and touched him. What it had done to him, she didn’t know.

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “How do you feel?” She watched him sigh heavily, moving back again to sit on his ankles between her thighs. Her head followed him, and though she knew that she should start cleaning herself off before his seed began to dry, she didn’t have the urge to do so. It was still warm on her stomach, a testament to the pleasure she had given him.

  “I feel drugged,” he answered. “Demons cannot feel the effects of medicinal plants, but they can feel the effects of being touched by power.” He rolled his head around his neck, as if stretching after a long sleep. His eyes finally came back to her, and he looked straight into her gaze when he spoke again.

  “You have a lot of power. A lot of it,” he whispered. She felt her magic squirm inside her, like a child trying to leave his mother’s arms. She seized her chance and tried to rein it in. She clamped down on it, willing it not to move, and it quieted again, as easily shushed as Majo had said it would be.

  Vallen then smiled, and she saw his shoulders move as if he would laugh…or maybe even giggle. He brought his hands up to his face, rubbing the expression off as if it were dirt. She realized that he was high, something she knew a great deal of when administering a tad too much of Numbing Kava Kava. Patients would begin to laugh at the strangest things.

  She watched her lover carefully, but when he brought his hands down again, he looked to be in control again. His eyes darted down at her seed-splashed belly and he sat back on his rear to remove the last of his garments. His shoes and pants were tossed to the same place where his shirt had landed. He then stood, his movements graceful whereas she could barely move her limbs in the direction she wanted.

  She watched him walk to one side of the tent, completely fascinated by the way his muscles rippled when he moved. His rear was especially good-looking in the candlelight. He reached his destination where a small case sat. She hadn’t even noticed it. Next to it was a stack of cloths, and he picked one up, bringing a small bowl of water with him. She managed to close her legs and lay them flat, but that was all she accomplished before he returned. She helped him clean herself off, but she was more of a hindrance than helpful.

  “Why didn’t the mist come out? I thought that was the sexual energy?” she asked, watching him dribble some water on her stomach to wash the stickiness away. It made her jerk a bit since it was cold, but she stayed still for him, her arms over her chest since her embarrassment was returning.

  Looking at him was becoming difficult because of his complete lack of clothing. Her eyes were continuously drawn to the smooth planes of his chest, the gentle bumps of muscles in his abdomen and the heavy weight hanging from his pelvis. The only thing she could think of to feel less embarrassed was talking, and she had lots of questions.

  “It came with that touch of power you gave me. Much faster than the slower absorption of the mist. I suspect that my giddy state was because I took in too much energy too fast,” he slowly explained as he dried off the clean skin over her belly. When he took his hand away to toss the towels at a random spot against one of the cloth walls, she took the opportunity to close her dress again, but before she could completely cover herself, he stopped her hands with a light touch on her wrists.

  “Please…not yet. I wish to hold you naked in my arms before you leave me,” he whispered. His gaze was intense and though she wanted to be free of his intoxicating presence soon, she suddenly couldn’t deny the plea in his eyes. She pushed her dress open again, letting it slide off her body to only cling to her arms and shoulders.

  He moved slowly but surely over her, and while she let her dress stay open, her pale limbs and torso gleaming in the candlelight, she couldn’t help but cover her exposed breasts. She had acted wantonly earlier, had even told herself that it was the right thing to do by enjoying it, but now that the arousal had been quenched for the time being, her hesitance rode her hard.

  “Don’t hide yourself, Shumei. You were and are beautiful, every part of you. Especially your breasts,” he said, his eyes darting a glance at her covered chest.

  She felt her heart rise in her throat as he slowly lowered himself, his arms showing no strain, and then he was tilting himself to the left, lying along her side and pulling her toward him as they slipped off the pile of pillows to lie mostly on the carpet. It really was as thick as she had thought it was. She felt his now harmless member against her upper thighs, his arms strong around her back. His scent was in her nostrils again, all masculine but subtle.

  “You smell good,” she heard him say, and thought it funny that the same words wanted to pass her lips as well. He lay mostly on his back, her body braced against him, and she let her cheek rest on his chest, marveling over the texture of his skin against her face.

  “You said this was a tent from a city called Kurosa,” she softly recalled. “I have never heard of this city. How far is it from here?”

  “Kurosa is the largest city in the Black Sands of the Southwest. If you traveled nonstop on the fastest horse and had no troubles along the way, you could reach Kurosa in two weeks.”

  “Two weeks?” she gasped, genuinely surprised.

  “Kurosa is not exactly in the Black Sands. It sits on the edge farthest from here, occupying a thin strip of land between the sands and the ocean. It takes two weeks to reach it because you have to pass around the sands in order to reach Kurosa safely.”

  “Are the Black Sands that dangerous?”

  “White sand, as you might know, reflects the heat from the sun, making for a muggy, sweaty trek since you feel the sun from above and below, but black sand absorbs the heat and it rises in thick waves. You cannot walk on the Black Sands during the daylight. No matter what footwear you have, the heat of the sands will cook your feet. One could ride through it sitting on a sand creature known as a rakuda, whose body is capable of withstanding the sand’s temperature, but the heat waves rising off the sands are still so great that you would pass out within minutes.”

  “You have traveled a great deal then,” she observed, feeling slightly more comfortable in her nudity since he couldn’
t really see any of it. Somehow that was easier to deal with than him seeing her while she was naked. He had loosened his arms, now only holding her with a hand on her shoulder. She rose up on one elbow, looking at his face in the candlelight.

  “I have seen most of our continent, yes,” he answered.

  “Tell me more,” she asked, leaning into him. Though she didn’t smile when she asked, he could hear the fascination in her voice, like a breathlessness that two lovers have when first exploring each other. He could feel her soft breasts against his side and sighed with satisfaction.

  “The continent is shaped like a great ox running north. There are many peoples living in different areas of the land and they all have different names for themselves and their piece of the world. The mountains here are most commonly known as the Jagged Peaks. They lie on the east side of the continent, running along the ox’s spine. Your valley is rather isolated, which is why not many merchants come here. The very river where you bathe though is the head of a large branch of rivers that run like fingers out of the mountains, running toward the southwest. To the west of our mountains, farther south than the branching of rivers, is the Plentiful Plains, where most of the continent’s people reside in dozens of small towns. The largest city, considered the capital, is Houfu.”

  “I know of Houfu,” she piped in, her face open and alive as she listened to his description. “All of the merchants who come here sell goods that were passed into our area from Houfu.” He nodded at her words.

  “Houfu lies at the head of a wide river that runs steadily to the southeast, passing through Stillwood before spilling out into the ocean. Fewer people live in Stillwood, but its largest city is something to behold…”

  He continued his story for several more minutes, describing the look and layout of lands she had never seen and thought to never even imagine in such detail. In their small, candlelit world, she dreamt of something wider, bigger. Never had she guessed that she could hear such a story from him and she felt an unwanted but undeniable kinship with him. He had traveled much during his curse. She lusted to travel as he had with no worries about money or time.

  “So the bulk of Noukou is suspended from the trees? Like…tree houses?” she guessed, trying to imagine the size and age of trees old enough to support a city.

  “Yes, you could say that. The city’s biggest threat is a forest fire, so their largest enforcement group is dedicated to guarding against them, whether born from nature or arson.”

  “It sounds so unreal and far away,” she sighed, looking into the darkness at the edge of their candlelit world and seeing an altogether different vista. He watched her expression, admiring the adventuresome, dreamy quality of her eyes. Something softened inside of him while another part hardened.

  “Not so unreal…not that far away,” he answered, his voice unobtrusive as he watched scenes play across her face. There was something about her that drew him like a moth to the flame. He had suspected during their first encounter together that she had magic. The huge amounts of sexual energy she gave off were the biggest clue. Only those with magic have that much energy because magic intensifies their sexuality, as it intensifies most other abilities or qualities.

  However, between now and the time he had spent with her in the river, her magic had woken from its slumber and now merely sat quietly within her, watchful and eager.

  “Vallen,” she said quietly. He was roused from his thoughts. Her face betrayed that her own thoughts had turned to something more serious. He remained silent, watching her lips part slowly as she formed words in her mind.

  “You were human once, weren’t you?” she said matter-of-factly. He reacted as if she had just told him that she had murdered his mother. He couldn’t believe the words had come out of her mouth. His mouth was caught ajar, as if someone had left their home and forgotten to close the door.

  “How did you know that?” he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of strain.

  “The witch knew. She told me,” she said, her eyes finally looking at him again. She studied his face, wondering how such a sinfully handsome man had actually been born human.

  “So your kiss did buy some information after all,” he said. The affection that had been growing inside him just a moment earlier was cruelly smothered and he lost his arousal as easily as an inexperienced boy. Hearing about one’s past could do that to someone.

  “Who cursed you, Vallen?” she asked, her eyes steady on his.

  “A witch. Who else?” he asked, though it was a rhetorical question. His voice was hard but unreadable.

  “Why?” she whispered. It was the simplest and most complicated of all questions. To ask why was to dig up a past he hadn’t even thought of, let alone shared with another, for longer than Shumei had been alive.

  Yet he wanted to tell her…

  “I was the son of a rich general who served the empress, when we had one. I was powerful, arrogant and blind. Two friends and I thought we were immortal and indestructible…” he began, his eyes sliding away from her face as he recalled the events that had thrown him into this mess so long ago.

  “We were very popular with the ladies and made free with our favors, pursuing the more difficult catches as if they were prizes. We broke many hearts and stole the virtues of many young women in the dark court.

  “And then we met Miharu, the daughter of a widowed noblewoman. I was the one who seduced and then left her after boasting to my friends of my latest conquest. Her mother, as it turned out, was secretly tapping into the power of the Damned One and his generals. She took revenge for her broken-hearted daughter and cursed the three of us to be forever chained to our lusts.

  “I’ll never forget the night the curse was placed on us. My hair had been black then, reflecting my magic abilities, but I wasn’t able to fight off such a strong spell by a caster much more experienced than me. My hair turned white as my magic died. The pain was excruciating…” he recalled, his voice becoming soft as he closed his eyes.

  She watched him intently, her lips slightly open, and a million questions buzzed inside her mind. She didn’t dare interrupt his story though.

  “When we woke the next morning, we were starved for sex as if we hadn’t had any for years. We fell upon our current lovers and while I stopped before Mai died, my two friends did not come to their senses until their lovers had died from the abuse. I don’t think Yasuke ever recovered from that. He was the youngest of us and died within the year. I pray that the Divine One accepted him into His Garden but I don’t know if my prayers can be heard anymore,” he murmured, his voice starting to sound rough.

  “After I was cursed, my father slew the noblewoman in a rage, effectively destroying any chance I might have had for a cure.” She almost stiffened in reaction but managed to show very little on her face at the mention of a possible cure. The thought had never occurred to her since she had learned the truth from Majo, but if magic worked the way she thought it should, then a cure was a sensible leap of logic. After all, if one witch could curse you, couldn’t another cure you? The magic inside her twitched as if asking for permission to do something, but she hushed it immediately.

  “Though my father tried to protect me, I was cast out of our court and for a while lived in the hidden estate my father had set aside. After he died of old age, I began to wander with my third friend. We sometimes returned to the estate but we spent more time walking in silence under the moonlight than anything else in life. However, it’s been fifteen years since I last saw him, and I know not if he still lives, or if he laid down somewhere and wasted away for a month.”

  Vallen sighed deeply, as if the words had cost him more energy than he had gained that day. He no longer held her at all, though she was still tucked next to his side.

  “Your third friend. What was his name?” she asked, her voice quiet. He opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling.

  “Rosuke. He was Yasuke’s older brother.”

  “You said you had magic. That your black hair reflec
ted that…” She left the sentence hanging, her question obvious.

  “In my days, black-haired people were the ruling class because we could wield magic. The darker your hair was, the stronger your magic, and the empress was our leader. Women always had stronger magic abilities, so the highest seat of authority was that of the empress.”

  “But now we are the dirt on everyone’s shoes,” she vehemently whispered, her emotions now high. “Why?”

  “The dark-haired noble class began to abuse their powers, using magic for ill deeds, such as extortion or even rape. The serfs, the lowest of which were blondes, rose up against us. Everyone glorified the blonde-haired people since they were free of magic and therefore untainted by the temptation that magic brings. They became the leaders of the land, slowly erasing the past so that black-haired people would not know what they had once been. Some families passed down the stories between the generations, but the stories were convoluted and lost as time went on.

  “Those with black hair forgot that they had magic since using it had been outlawed, and breaking the law was punishable by death.”

  “Are you saying that my anc—our ancestors…had been the ruling class in this world? That the stories I heard of my soul being tainted since birth were all lies?” Her face easily showed the bitter anger welling up, and he smoothed a hand along her bare side to try to calm her.

  “The people couldn’t bring themselves to count black-haired people as their fellows. We had been cruel leaders and I can’t exactly blame them for the revenge they took.”

  “Then why didn’t they just kill anyone with black hair?”

  “They tried it…and then black-haired children were born to family lines that had never borne black-haired children before. When the blondes realized that the dark-haired ones would continue to reappear, they tried the strategy in force today.”

  “So everything people said about magic being evil—” she began, but Vallen interrupted her.

  “Magic is not evil, nor is it good. It is neutral,” he explained, and she immediately recognized the exact same words that had come out of Majo’s mouth.