by Alia Bess
She sat at home now, weeks later, in her bathrobe, cradling a hot cup of tea and watching the local news. Crying.
The anchor who announced that convicted rapist Michael Brand had hung himself in his cell before he could be transported to prison. The news reported said that he had used his shoelaces tied together, but Victoria knew he always wore loafers. She glanced up at her ceiling, knowing the demon had arranged this. There was to be a settlement. She would not be going to work in the morning, or ever again.
She brought the teacup to her lips, but her hands shook so much the tea merely sloshed over the rim and into her lap rather than into her mouth. She set it down.
“How could you do this to someone?” she asked the window, then at the ceiling. “How could you ruin and kill someone so harmless? He had a wife and three kids not even in school yet.”
“You forget I am a demon.”
She jumped, glad she had set the tea down. He was right. She had forgotten. Always she had assumed he was a figment of her imagination, a mental plaything that made the monotony of her days a little more exciting. A lot more exciting.
The lovemaking had seemed very real every time, but so do dreams. Her orgasms had been intense, and the aftermath always left her weak and trembling and sometimes sore. She had often marveled at how real the encounters seemed. Part of her refused to believe that sexual contact with demons from hell could be real. The sane part of her.
The other parts were satisfied.
She looked for the source of his voice. He could be anywhere, look like anything. There was a soft glow in the corner near the fireplace. She focused on that.
“I thought you always came here to pleasure yourself. And me.”
The glow swirled into a shape. He appeared as the man he had been the other night. The night of the freak storm over her roof. She sat up straighter and pulled the edges of her bathrobe together at her neck. He was naked but for a loincloth tied diagonally across his hips. She took in the well-muscled torso and long thighs before glancing at the strange scar across his throat.
She swallowed. “You look like a man now, not a demon.”
In answer he intensified the bright yellow glow of his eyes, and blinked so the vertical slits of his pupils dilated then thinned. The eyes were not human.
“What…what do you want?” She glanced at the television which droned on now about the local high school. He raised an arm and the screen blinked off.
“I have come to see how you are.”
If he had said he had come to tie her up and eat her soul he could not have shocked her more. She stood then sat down again as her knees were too weak to support her. Never had he suggested that he cared even one whit about her. Sometimes he had come in the night, opened her legs, thrust himself inside for several strokes then disappeared. Other times he might flip her over and pound inside her like a stallion does a mare and disappear, leaving her face pressed into her pillow, too surprised to be sorry it had been over so quick.
She tilted her head at him and blinked. “How I am?” she whispered.
His human face melted itself into an expression of discomfort for one second before he disintegrated. The wall behind him glowed with the afterimage outline of his body. She got up and walked to the wall and touched it with the fingers of one hand.
“I’m okay. I guess.” She said to the wall. “I am very sorry for Michael Brand’s family. I feel terrible that I have caused them so much pain, and angry that you did this and forced me to take the appearance of a victim of your crime. The money feels tainted and I can’t look at my bank statement without nausea.” She took her hand from the wall and watched as the silhouette of his presence faded back to the Crème Fraiche color she had painted on it last fall. “That is how I feel.”
Victoria continued, “I’m blacklisted, you know.” She put her hands on her hips, warmed up by this opportunity to unburden herself for the first time. “No one will hire me. Everyone in town either despises me or pities me. No one calls.” Her voice changed and became sad, “Well, my cousin Bob from Cincinnati called. He asked for a loan to buy a car. And my cousin Ed from Jersey called. He wants a loan for first and last month’s rent so he can leave his wife. My sister called and told me she wishes she had been raped at work in an elevator so she wouldn’t have to work two jobs to support her and her kids.”
Victoria sat in the wingback chair by the cold fireplace. She looked at her hands. “You must have done this for a reason, demon.”
There was a flash in the room and she sat back in the soft cushions of the upholstery. He appeared again, this time as the red demon with horns and a pointed tail. It waved behind him back and forth like an angry cat. The yellow eyes blinked over and over and her and when he spoke her revealed a row of pointed teeth behind the shining red lips.
“I have.” He reached for her with a huge hand tipped with sharp black nails and pulled her from the chair. He pushed her down to her knees and moved his hips toward her face. His engorged cock glistened red and shiny before her face. She sighed, not at all in the mood for sex. She was still thinking about her sister’s request for a loan and her cousin’s failed marriage.
The demon insisted. The cock swelled. At this distance she could see the ripples along the shaft and the split engorged tip with its small slit like a closed mouth at the end. The demon pushed it closer to her, but she waited for instructions. Hand job? Blow job? Or did he just want her to watch as he masturbated? He did that sometimes, aiming his cum to spurt over her breasts and nipples, then the hollows of her neck and into her hair. He had plenty of cum. More than a real man. It was thick and sometimes creamy white, sometimes clear and shining, sometimes red as blood. Always hot. It always burned. Sometimes it left marks on her. Sometimes it blistered. She touched her throat. She did not like sucking it until it came inside her mouth because it burned her and choked her and made her speak in a sexy throaty voice for days afterward. She hoped that was not was he wanted tonight.
“No. Watch.” He pushed her down. She lay on her back and he straddled her, standing over her with one monstrous foot on either side of her hips. She looked up at the huge demon-body that towered almost to her ceiling. The huge cock and balls the size of oranges blocked most of her view, but the rippled abs and broad red chest were visible above them. He bent his neck to look down at her. She saw the glowing yellow eyes and the thick curling horns on the sides of his head.
His right arm bunched with muscle as he grasped at the root of his cock and pulled it tight. She felt her legs spread apart and her knees lifted by soft touches of air and the tingling of electricity. Her hips came off the ground as he positioned her without touching her. She knew what was coming and for the first time in this evening she felt a tingling of desire. He would use his tail on her. She sighed a little breathless breath in anticipation. He knew that was her favorite.
His tail snaked around his hips and hovered before her eyes. The end changed into different shapes, slowly molding themselves for her selection. She loved this. She blinked at each one. The first was a normal man-shaped penis, the next the same but uncircumcised. Boring. The next had a split end like a two-headed snake, the next a thick ring that vibrated gently. She reached out and grabbed his red ankle.
“That one,” she whispered. The tail disappeared. She knew he was positioning it low between her legs. She closed her eyes, waiting for the contact. He pressed it gently against her folds then moved it up until the tip brushed her clit. She raised her hips in approval and he circled the clit several times with the end wiggling like a little finger. She moaned and the dribble of her wetness slid down over her slit and into the terrycloth of her bathrobe.
When she was ready he inserted the tip and slowly pushed it inside her, the thick ring began to hum with a low frequency shivering tremble. She raised her knees. Normally, there was a slow build-up of excitement, but with the tail she was slammed with an orgasm almost immediately, and then another one as he inserted it just where all the nerves met
inside her beneath her clit. She felt the electric tingle along the inside of her body that radiated along her inner thighs to her toes. She bucked her hips and the tail pressed deeper, the ring steered itself into the G-spot and hummed until she gasped, kicking her legs and writhing. Waves and waves of pleasure rolled over her. Her ears burned, her tongue was dry and her nipples engorged themselves until they resembled two pillars standing high above the hills that were her breasts.
She opened her eyes to see him. He straddled her, legs wide apart on either side of her waist. As his tail worked on her body, he was busy with his own pleasure. The yellow eyes flamed with his passion and his strong arm worked his hand up and down the thick shaft of his cock. Forward and backward he stroked himself, rocking his hips in time with the thrusts of his tail into and out of her slit. His teeth were bared and his breathing was harsh and rough. His nipples were as erect as hers and every muscle in his body rippled with his exertion.
The tail moved in and out of her, now, touching her clit with an intense feather light tip at each stroke. No matter how she twisted on the floor and flailed her limbs, the insistent tail stroked her faster and faster. Her orgasm had lasted so long she was exhausted, but still he would not relent. Her groans of pleasure only made him stroke himself harder. Her feet kicked at the air and she dig her fingers and nails into the only part of his body she could reach, his calves and ankles She drew long deep scratches in his red skin that trailed black blood which tricked in timey rivulets over the bones of his enormous feet.
He roared once and she arched her back as the tail thrust hard. Very hard. Hard enough to lift her hips off the carpet as he thundered his voice to match the force of his own orgasm. Thick ropes of cum shot from his cock in white arcs over her body, splashing down on her face and hair. He roared again as the next spurt flowed from between his fingers and dripped down on her breasts, touching her first with heat then ice as the air touched the wetness. He arched his back and made another sound, this one softer and more like a groan. The last spurt ejected itself in a high arch. She watched his balls twitch and his buttocks tighten as they spurted his cum over her head and against the wall. The tail dwindled to nothing inside her until it was so small she could not even feel it withdraw.
He was gasping this time, he reached out to the wall and braced himself there and his legs shook. His huge cock deflated in his hand. When the yellow eyes touched her they seemed different this time. She blinked up at him in wonder. Then he was gone.
Chapter Four
Victoria soaked in her tub, the warm water soothed the residual aches from last night’s encounter with her demon. Cleaning the carpet and the walls took her some hours and she was late to bed. Demon cum left stains if not cleaned up right away.
She sighed and made the tiny flames of her aromatherapy candles flicker. She stared up at the ceiling of her bathroom and wondered what she would do next. She could travel. Now that there was no need to go to the office every day she could get in her car and go. Anywhere. She wondered if she could run away from everything. Last night had been exhausting, and though she had been pleasured, she could no longer look forward to her demon’s visits. Perhaps he meant to kill her, like he did Michael Brand. From Legal.
She glanced at the closed door.
Closed doors never stopped the demon. Was there a place he could not go? What if she stayed in a church? There was a cathedral two miles away. What if she stayed in there? She thought back to all the folktales she had read as a child, trying to remember if there was something that stopped demons. She knew about garlic and vampires, and silver bullets and werewolves. Holy water, maybe, and the big double doors of a church. She sat up, careful not to slosh the water in her tub. Where does one get holy water? From a priest? Victoria was not a Catholic. She wasn’t sure. Then she remembered a movie. A very famous movie from decades ago. Priests performed exorcisms. They were the ones who sent demons back to hell. Forever.
She slowly got out of her bath, her eyes on the door. She suspected the demon could read her mind. There had been several instances when she had thought of something that would increase her pleasure while he was fucking her, and that thing happened. Sometimes it was a touch, sometimes a lick, but she would think it and he would do it. She wondered if he was watching her at all times. What would he do if he saw her go to the church for help?
He would try to stop her.
She dried herself and fluffed her hair with the towel. He tended to come to her at night. It was morning. Maybe he slept during the day. She wondered if demons slept. She put on jeans and a blue tee shirt and brushed her hair. She slipped on her sandals and got her purse, all the while flicking her eyes over the walls and cabinets and furniture, looking for a flash of light or something to show that he might try to stop her.
In the car she kept checking her rearview mirror. Now that the demon had appeared at her old office building, he could be anywhere, be anything. He could be the man behind the wheel of the car behind her right now.
This thought made her stomach hurt. She knew that if she kept thinking these thoughts the paranoia would make her crazy. She might be crazy. No. The rape kit at the hospital and the somber faces of the policemen confirmed her sanity. She wasn’t imagining this.
She pulled into the parking lot of the church and looked in the mirror again to see if any cars followed her. No. She parked and sat behind her wheel thinking.
She could go into the church and sit down. But then what? Someone might approach her and ask if she needed help. Victoria covered her eyes. How would she explain? She could tell the truth. They might call an ambulance and put her in the psych ward. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. Would she be safe there? She suspected the demon might continue his visits, but be invisible to the staff. She imagined orderlies crowding her doorway while she had her legs spread and was pounded by the invisible demon’s hard cock. She would be locked up for a long time. Forever even.
A tear tipped over her lower lid and she wiped it away. Self pity. Demon visits were preferable to a life in a cage. She glanced around the parking lot. Another car drove by slowly. The man inside turned his head to look at her. Victoria lowered her eyes. The other car parked and the man got out, looking at her curiously before going into the side door of the church. He was probably the priest. Victoria sighed. She would never tell anyone. Even a priest.
She started the engine. As she looked to the left, preparing to merge onto the street, she saw a movement to her right. She pulled out into traffic and as she stopped at the light someone materialized in the passenger seat next to her. She startled, but had the sense to keep her eyes on the red light. She blinked rapidly, thinking. The vision of the psych ward came to her again. As the light turned green, she touched the accelerator with her toes then glanced to her right. Just her eyes. She didn’t turn her head.
He was there, staring straight ahead as she was. He was in the human man form, wearing a collared shirt and jeans. She swallowed and thought about turning around and going back to the church, but he read that thought.
“It won’t help,” he said.
Victoria’s throat tightened. She followed the car in front of her at it made the long curve near the mall. It occurred to her that in this situation the demon could not very well knock her to the side and leap on her. He would crash the car. She frowned. If he wanted sex why not wait until she was alone in the house, or at least at her destination. She watched as the mall slid by. No use pretending that’s where she was headed. But it was a very public place. She turned into the entrance and took the access road that ringed the huge parking lot. Would he attack her in public? Was it his intention to have her committed?
“No. Victoria I do not want you locked away in prison or in the hospital.”
She began to tremble and her knuckles whitened on the wheel. He had never spoken more than a few words to her at a time. Usually instructions. Usually orders.
She swallowed again and whispered, “What do you want?”
/> He did not answer so she hazarded a glance at him. He was staring straight ahead and actually looked sad. Like he had feelings.
“Pull over and park,” he said.
She did. She put the lever in park and set the brake. Just in case. She kept her eyes ahead, watching shoppers with their bags make their way to their cars. She watched mothers and children and rich ladies in heels. She watched the security cart with its flashing light make its rounds. She watched everything except the seat beside her. He spoke again.
“I need you to come with me.”
“We do that sometimes, if I get enough foreplay.” She turned her head now, to look at him. Her humor was tinged with some hysteria.
“This is not a joking matter, Victoria.”
She took a calming breath. He looked so normal. Handsome, even, in a rough well-used sort of way. He could appear as anything and anyone. Why this form? He could have appeared as handsome and perfect as the well-chiseled models in a fashion magazine. Victoria realized that she was thinking that if she could be a shape-shifter she would look like the models in the negligée catalogue.
But this form was flawed. The nose looked like it had been broken at some point and healed not quite straight. He had that thick scar on the front of his throat. And his ears were too interesting to be perfect. She liked his hair. It was a sandy blond and just the right length to show that it might wave and curl if it ever grew longer to touch his shoulders. The blond looked natural, like he spent a lot of time outdoors, and his dark tan and the squint-wrinkles around his eyes suggested he was rarely inside. He was clean-shaven, but stubble was apparent along his chin and jaw. He was tall and had the strong chiseled bone structure of a Norseman. She frowned, realizing she was thinking about him as if he were a real man. This form is an illusion. No more real than the huge red demon that scraped her ceiling with his massive curling ram’s horns.
