"Demon Sheenigan, we welcome you! Come! Sample your bride!!" the High Priestess cried out.
At once, the women crowded close. Bending toward her, they began to lick and suck her flesh. Mariel was too stunned at first to feel anything at all, but the shock did not protect her long. Two of the priestesses had covered her breasts with their mouths, sucking at her nipples hungrily. As revolted as she was, nothing she could do could stop the heated sensations that began to filter through her body to her brain.
She jerked, trying to struggle away from them at first, but she was pinned so tightly to the altar that she couldn’t move more than a hair’s breadth in any direction and soon lost the strength to struggle at all.
She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to block the sensations from her mind, but they invaded insidiously as the priestesses continued to lick and suckle her all over. Heat pelted her from every direction, from her nipples, from her arms, her belly—even her fingers and toes.
Despite the assault of sensations, she flinched all over as she felt the heat of an open mouth on her inner thigh. Her heart, already pounding, began to beat in her chest so hard she thought it might burst. Slowly, the hot, moist, sucking torment moved downward toward her sex. She strained uselessly against the leather than bound her hips, trying to evade the touch she knew instinctively—feared was coming. It changed nothing, availed her nothing. The hot mouth settled over her sex, sucking, licking the tender flesh. The breath left Mariel’s lungs as if she had been punched in the stomach as pleasure so intense it was almost painful shot through her.
Sheenigan, the demon of many mouths, she thought dizzily as she stared at the priestesses and realized their eyes had gone blank, that they no longer controlled their bodies, their hands, their mouths or their minds. Sheenigan had entered them and taken possession.
As repugnant as the thought was, it was almost easier to believe that it was women who touched her so intimately than to consider that it was a demon who moved over her flesh. She tried to focus her mind on the fact that it was women who caressed her and that she should feel nothing at all beyond disgust, but her body did not know the difference. Her body only felt the pleasure and that pleasure built and built until she was mindless with it. Her mind clouded with ecstasy. Her body felt fevered. The pleasure reached the edge of pain. She found that she couldn’t breathe enough air into her lungs. She lay gasping hoarsely, still fighting the pleasure that surged through her until she felt as if she was reaching a point of crisis.
As abruptly as they had begun to torment her, they pulled away. Bending, they picked up small vessels and began to chant once more.
When they poured the contents over her, Mariel lost her breath, felt blackness swarm around her, for the liquid was so cold against her heated flesh it felt like fire. The tension and pleasure vanished abruptly, her body seizing, clenching. She lay shivering as they began to circle her once more.
Slowly, the painful chill eased. Her heart ceased to hammer painfully against her chest and she began to breathe more easily. As if they had only been waiting for her body to return to normal, they moved close once more. This time, she knew as they leaned toward her what they intended. She cried out, lurched against her bindings. The two who had captured her breasts in their mouths bit down on her sensitive nipples just hard enough to warn her that resistance meant pain. She subsided abruptly, trying to close her mind to the stabs of pleasure that went through her as they sucked her nipples, licked them, sucked again, teasing the sensitive buds with their tongues until the drug of bliss filled her again.
The demon had many mouths, and each was a torment to her, sucking, licking, teasing her to the edge of madness. She gasped hoarsely when she felt the heat of a mouth covering her clit, sucking it hard as her nipples were sucked, licking it. Within moments, she reached the state of mindlessness that they’d brought her to before.
Try as she might, she couldn’t close her mind to the sensations. No sensitive area of her body was ignored. Pleasure assaulted her from every direction. Within moments, she was gasping so hard her head swam with dizziness. Blackness skirted her consciousness, but remained beyond her reach. They sucked her flesh until it became pure torture before they withdrew once more.
Again they tipped the freezing liquid over her body, jerking her from the sharp edge of pleasure so abruptly that she lost her breath for several moments.
She lost track of the number of times they moved forward to violate her senses. Hours seemed to pass in a haze of heat and desperation. Finally, she reached a point where her body failed to cool even when they poured the chilling liquid over her. It continued to hum, to throb all over until she felt as if she was in the grips of a high fever, lost awareness of anything beyond her torment and an absolute desperation to find surcease.
Abruptly, the chanting stopped and the priestesses moved back. Dizzy, completely disoriented, Mariel lifted her head with an effort, wondering if her torture had at last come to an end.
She saw that the Trull had come to stand between her spread thighs. As she watched, his ankles were seized and his legs parted and manacled. Next, his wrists were manacled. He leaned forward over her body as the chains that bound his wrists were tightened, hovering inches above her, suspended by the chains so that the muscles of his chest and arms were taut and bulging with the strain. The High Priestess began to dance around the altar where she and the Trull were chained. Mariel stared at her blurrily, trying to figure out what seemed strange about the woman.
She realized when the Priestess had made her second circuit that the woman had strapped a garish red penis to her lower belly that bobbed obscenely as she danced around the altar.
When the High Priestess had circled the altar thrice, she stopped behind the Trull. Mariel met the Trull’s gaze in confusion. Something flickered across his face and he let out a harsh breath, gripping the chains as he moved forward.
He’d jerked forward twice before Mariel realized that he wasn’t moving forward. He was being thrust forward as the Priestess forced the cock she was wearing inside of him. Before that had even fully sunk in, she felt something nudging against her cleft. Looking between her body and the Trull’s, she saw that the Priestess had grasped his cock. In a moment, Mariel felt something huge and rounded being forced inside the mouth of her sex.
She panted as she felt her muscles resisting the intrusion, bucked, trying to evade the determined pressure. For a second the pressure stopped. Mariel had just drawn a breath of relief when the Priestess slammed against the Trull once more. The force of her thrust impaled Mariel on the Trull’s cock, ramming his turgid cock deeply inside of her. She cried out with a mixture of pain and pleasure as she felt his engorged flesh rammed so deeply inside of her she felt as if he would split her in two.
The painful throbbing in her body that had only just begun to subside, tore through her as he drove into her over and over, slamming so hard against her she felt his groin grinding against her clit.
Abruptly, something inside of her seemed to shatter. Ecstasy such as she’d never known exploded within her, tearing a scream from her throat, dragging her down into blackness.
As she fell into the black void, she heard the Trull’s harsh cry of ecstatic pain as he, too, was forced over the edge, felt his cock jerk inside of her and a warmth bathing the channel of her sex.
Chapter Two
Her first awareness afterward was of a sense almost of weightlessness. Swimming upwards slowly to consciousness, Mariel realized finally that she was being carried. She felt the solidity of an arm behind her back and another beneath her knees, felt the heat and strength of a hard chest against her cheek, heard the pounding of a heart not her own against her ear.
The sense of moving ceased after a few minutes and she felt herself being lowered onto something soft. The softness beneath her shifted and a body pressed against hers.
Dimly, she realized that it was the Trull, Behsart who lay beside her, his arm and leg holding her prisoner, but she could not fin
d the will to care. Within moments, she drifted downward into nothingness once more.
When she woke, she found that she was alone on the bed. Still groggy and disoriented, she sat up as she saw that the priestesses of Demon Sheenigan had filed into the room.
Fear surged through her. She would have leapt from the bed and fled, but pain shot through her the moment she tried to stand and a wave of blackness threatened to engulf her.
She was seized by the priestesses and led from the room. A sense of panic invaded her as she saw they were leading her to the bath once more. She struggled, but she was greatly outnumbered. They merely surrounded her and dragged her into the pool. Two grabbed her arms. Two grabbed her legs and the others proceeded to bathe her despite her efforts to elude them.
When they were done, they dragged her from the pool and dried her.
The Trull entered the room with the High Priestess.
The High Priestess moved toward her, carrying a length of sheer, red fabric. The other women took it from her and slipped it over Mariel’s head.
She saw then that it was a robe of sorts, loose and flowing, the sleeves loose also.
Her body was perfectly visible through the fabric, however.
When they had settled the robe around her, Behsart stepped forward, grasped her wrists and fitted the manacles over them once more. A sense almost of relief flooded her as he led her down the corridor they had traversed the day before and out onto the piazza that fronted the temple.
She glanced over her shoulder as they began to descend the stairs, but there was no sign of the priestesses. Settling her before him on the saddle, Behsart turned his horse and headed west through the streets of the village. Everyone stopped as they passed. Most averted their gazes, too terrified of the Trull to look at her. She saw pity on some of the faces, however, lascivious interest on others. Finally, she simply lifted her head and ignored them.
There was no hope for her among them. Even those who felt pity for her plight would not intervene.
When they had cleared the village and entered the forest beyond, Behsart urged the horse toward a small clearing beside the narrow road and dismounted. When he’d tied the beast, he grasped her around the waist and lifted her down.
She stared at the chain he’d hooked to his belt as he dug through the saddle pack. He’d lain with her the night before, as naked as she was. If she had not been so exhausted from her ordeal, she might have slipped away.
She had not thought that she was such a weakling. It angered her that her body had failed her so completely that she’d missed what might well have been her only chance to free herself.
When he’d found what he sought, Behsart pulled a wine skin from his saddle horn and turned, striding to the shade of a tree and settling beneath it. She had, perforce, to follow, settling beside him.
Withdrawing bread and cheese from the bundle he held, he broke off a portion of each and held them out to her.
Mariel’s stomach growled the moment she saw the food, her mouth watering instantly and she realized that she hadn’t eaten since early the day before. No wonder she’d had no strength to fight them, none to take advantage of a possibility for flight! She’d been so terrified the day before, she hadn’t even thought of food after she was taken.
In truth, she was hardly less frightened now than she had been then, but her body clamored for sustenance just the same. She took the food he offered, nibbling at it, glancing at him from time to time from beneath her lashes.
The threat his mere presence represented could not be ignored, but she saw as glanced at him that the man he had once been was far more handsome than she had realized before. His features were all hard angles and planes, but pleasingly masculine, his nose a straight blade, his lips thin, but well formed.
His eyes, when he wasn’t looking directly at her, were beautiful, a deep, gemstone blue, surrounded by thick, black lashes.
She shivered as he looked directly at her, for she could see the demon in his eyes.
"Why was I taken to the temple?" she asked hesitantly. "I thought I was to be a virgin sacrifice."
"You are. No man has touched you. Only the demon Sheenigan."
It was the man’s flesh that had claimed her maidenhood, but she didn’t think the demon would react well to that. She supposed the High Priestess had received the demon Sheenigan into her body and Sheenigan considered that he had claimed both her and the man, but she knew little about demons, in truth, and wished she knew far less.
"I am not to die?"
His head tilted curiously. "We are on pilgrimage to the temples of the seven demons who rule Daeksould through Lord Valdamer. Each will sample your flesh before you are taken to Valdamer, who will separate your spirit from your flesh so that you may join with the seven demons."
Mariel felt her throat close with terror. She coughed, choked and finally managed to swallow the mouthful of food she’d taken. "I must… I’m to be used in six more rituals? And then to die?"
"Sheenigan found the taste of your passion appealing. He was gratified that you received him with such pleasure. If you please the others, perhaps they will allow you to keep your body."
Mariel fought down a wave of nausea. It sounded no better that way. She didn’t think she could bear more of the same as she had already endured. It was true they had wrung pleasure from her body in spite of all that she could do, but it shamed her that they had. She certainly felt no glory in it, no desire to go through anything like that again.
Her body called her a liar, burgeoning with heat at the thought of the forbidden pleasures, her mind filling with images of all that had happened to her in the temple of Sheenigan. Resolutely, she thrust it from her.
She was uncomfortable that Sheenigan had chosen to use women’s bodies to wring pleasure from her body. She wasn’t certain, though, that she would have felt much, if any, better about it if it had been men—except that it would have seemed more natural to her. It would not have seemed quite so wrong to enjoy it.
She didn’t want to be the bride of the seven demons of Daeksould! "Did he take pleasure in that body you wear, demon?" she asked sharply. "That was Sheenigan, guiding them all, wasn’t it?"
Something flickered in the eyes. For a moment, she thought she glimpsed something that was not demon, but it was gone so quickly she wondered if it was no more than wishful thinking.
"It was Sheenigan. He used this body to plant his seed inside of you."
Mariel’s mind went perfectly blank for several moments, but the thought that finally erupted was denial. The demons were spirits. They could subjugate the spirits of others, chain them and use their bodies, but the man’s seed was his. She could not, would not, believe that there was any possibility that a demon’s seed might be growing in her belly.
"Who is the man?"
This time, she was certain she saw something flicker in the demon’s eyes. "He was known once as Cavan, Lord of Reugal, but he is no more. I have sent his soul away and taken the shell for my own."
He was lying. Demons always lied. But perhaps a part of it was true? She didn’t believe the man’s spirit was gone. She thought it was there with Behsart, enchained by the demon’s power, but too strong to be ousted. Perhaps the demon actually had given her the name of the man? But would it be of use to her?
He handed her the wine skin and she drank. When she’d finished, he pulled her to her feet, put the remains of the food away and lifted her to the saddle once more. He set the horse to a canter then, following the road westward.
It could not be said that Mariel’s fear vanished, or even diminished a great deal, but she could not maintain it for any great length of time. Instead, it rose and fell inside of her, rearing up to strangle her and speed her heart whenever thoughts crept into her mind of what lay ahead, slipping to the back of her mind when she became focused on her discomfort.
They stopped again when the sun reached its zenith. Despite her hunger, Mariel managed to eat very little more than she had earli
er. She tried, knowing that if she continued as she was she would grow weaker and weaker.
Not that her strength was of much use to her against the demon Behsart, but she knew she needed to keep her strength up in case an opportunity arose for freedom.
As the sun sank toward the horizon, they left the forest behind and began to pass farms, and then houses clustered more closely together. Ahead of them, silhouetted by the setting sun, the temple of the three horned demon shed a black shadow across the village it commanded.
Mariel’s stomach clenched at the sight. Her heart began to beat more rapidly, in time to the rhythm of the horse’s galloping hooves as they moved nearer and nearer the temple.
When they reached the outskirts of town, Behsart slowed the horse, forcing him to a walk and she realized that she was to be displayed yet again, this time as the bride of the Demon Trihern, the three horned god.
The priests of the Demon Trihern began to beat the temple gongs as Behsart pulled his horse to a halt at the base of the temple. Dismounting, Behsart dragged her from the saddle and led her up the stairs. Her knees trembled, threatening to give way beneath her and send her tumbling down the stone steps once more. By the time they reached the piazza, she was shaking all over.
The robe, thin as it was, was stripped from her as a crowd gathered below.
"Behold," the High Priest called out, "the bride of the Demon Trihern!"
As before, she was tugged along the edge of the piazza, turned, walked all the way to the opposite end, so that everyone could see her. As much as she hated being gawked at by all those below, she was reluctant for it to end. When they had finished displaying her and the priests surrounded her, she resisted, pulling back against the chain. The priests on either side of her grasped her arms, dragging her toward the entrance of the temple, lifting her when she stumbled.
The temple to the Demon Trihern looked much the same as the temple to Sheenigan. Torches lined the stone walls of a long corridor. She was marched down it and at the end she saw that there was a room with a pool as there had been in the other temple. This time, the statue hovering above the pool was a likeness of Trihern.
Belly of the Beast Page 2
