Demon Lust

by Raisa Greywood

  It wasn't true desire, not her desire, but a forced enjoyment of the erotic torture he was subjecting her to, a way of tormenting her mind as well as her body. Lyana did not want to enjoy what was happening to her. It was degrading, awful, humiliating. Enjoying it on any level made her feel wretched. But his tongue laved over her nipple, sucked at her blood, and sent a coursing passion through that tender bud straight to her core. Even as she cried out, sobbing her pain as he removed the other clamp, the new sensations of sensual heat didn't dissipate. Instead they only grew stronger with each sucking pull on her brutalized nipple, each drop of wax splashing onto her breast.

  Heat seared the overworked buds as he dripped hot wax onto each of them in turn, leaving Lyana hoarse and panting, her breasts heaving beneath a casing of wax. Her body burned, in more ways than one.

  Standing upright, Leonard gave Lyana a cruel grin as he tipped the candle and began to pour hot wax directly onto the open and exposed folds of her inner pussy lips. Her body jerked and thrashed as she tried to scream, hoarse noises gurgling from her gagged mouth. The completely unprotected state of her most sensitive parts made the punishment savagely harsh, but Leonard was absolutely pitiless. He gave her scant moments between dropping more wax, burning her nerves, pain flaring between her legs. By the time her pink lips were coated in red wax, she felt almost numb beneath the covering. The heat was fading, but her pussy still felt roasted.

  Leonard peeled the wax off and began to swirl one finger around her folds, slickening them artificially with the desire that he'd created in her loins.

  "You need to learn your lesson," he said firmly. There was something else in his voice though, almost as if he was convincing himself that this was what he needed to do.

  Lyana looked at him, exhausted and dully confused by the strange tone he'd used. The way that he looked back at her was regretful. "I wish you hadn't made me do this."

  One thick finger pushed into her pussy and Lyana closed her eyes. It felt good probing inside of her and her body welcomed this new sensation. Welcomed the minor surcease from pain. Although her entire body ached, she focused on the pleasurable sensation of his finger pushing back and forth inside of her well-oiled tunnel, fucking her almost gently. Then a second finger was added, stretching her tight walls and Lyana moaned with the sensation, a much happier moan than she'd uttered all night. Was it too much to hope than her punishment was over? But then why had Leonard seemed so regretful?

  The probing digits pulled out almost all the way and then pushed back in, stretching her even more fully as a third finger had joined the other two. The fullness of the sensation verged on painful and Lyana groaned, writhing a little. This kind of pain mingled well with the pleasure that Leonard had started to build inside of her. But then he added a fourth and Lyana's body tensed as she felt all four fingers trying to slide inside of her.

  "Relax, it will go easier for you."

  The implacability in Leonard's voice was no reassuring, but Lyana didn't have the energy to keep up a prolonged resistance. Her muscles fell lax and his fingers pushed forward, his large hand sliding inside of her. Not easily, no, not at all easily, but Lyana couldn't actively fight him. Each forward thrust of his hand pushed her farther open, her squirming and guttural moans ignored as he worked the broadest point of his hand into her tunnel. After that, it was almost easy to slide in the rest of his hand up to his wrist.

  Lyana couldn't believe how stretched she was, how painfully tight around his hand. Strange fluttering movements inside of her alerted her to his wriggling fingers and she bit down harder onto the gag in her mouth, body arching as he curled his hand into a ball. And then he moved, rubbing his fist back and forth along her walls, pushing deeper as she screamed and wailed, her inner muscles no match for his strong forearm. It spread her open, punching deep inside of her, her pussy forced to stretch wider and wider over the muscles of his arm.

  The brutal fisting rocked her foundations. She'd never even suspected that such a thing was possible. The physical distress of her body was no match for the insidious nature of Leonard's spell on her however. The passion he'd created in her flared and burst in a blaze of light and exquisite pain, her inner muscles sucking at his arm as she climaxed, completely out of control. He continued fucking her with his fist, the wet sucking sound echoing in her ears along with her muted cries of orgasm, the tears that trickled down her cheeks a result of the intensity of her climax and her despair at her body's betrayal.

  She was nearly insensible by the time Leonard removed his fist from her womb, leaving her pussy gaping. The removal of the clamps on her pussy lips caused her to flop like a fish in her restraints, but she barely registered the pain.

  When Leonard laid her down into her bed, healed just enough to ensure that she would awake the next morning, his harshly growled whisper followed her down into the darkness.

  "Don't forget your lesson, stupid girl. Make the right decision."

  Chapter 8

  She woke up on fire.

  Every part of her body screamed with pain. With a low moan through a throat that was scraped entirely to raw, Lyana peered at the window in her bedroom at the inn. It was still dark out. She'd woken up not because she'd gotten enough rest, but because her exhaustion was no longer greater than the pain she was in. Whimpering as her muscles twinged, Lyana didn't move an inch as she closed her eyes and let her will work magic on her body. Although some part of her brain felt as if her magic worked better with gestures, all it actually took was her desires, her will. And right now, she was too battered, too wretched to make any kind of movements.

  Her shoulder muscles had been strained, her wrists and ankles ached from the bindings that had been on them, and every inch of her skin on her back, stomach, breasts, buttocks and thighs was on fire. Between her legs felt like a sad mess, from the clamps, the wax and finally Leonard's fist brutally stretching her to her utter limit. The climax that he had forced on her had been ruthless and not something that had been for pleasure. In fact, the lingering pain from the way her muscles had tightened around his unyielding fist and arm seemed to have only increased the aching aftermath of the sexual torture.

  Desperately willing her magic to heal her, she felt only a little bit of soothing. The strain in her shoulders disappeared completely. The pain from the whipping seemed to mostly fade, her back and stomach feeling almost completely normal, although her stomach still felt a little burned, probably from the aftermath of the wax. Her breasts still ached, but she no longer half-wished that her nipples would fall off because it might hurt less if they did. They still throbbed but it was bearable. The damage between her legs was still the worst. When she moved her legs, she hissed as her thighs brushed against the tender outer lips of her pussy.

  Grabbing a pillow, she gently maneuvered it between her knees to help keep her legs apart as she lay on her side. Another pillow cradled against her stomach and chest helped to soothe the burn with the cool fabric of its surface. No longer completely overwhelmed by pain, Lyana found that sleep quickly stole over her again.

  Unfortunately, when Lyana woke up again a few hours later she wasn't able to do much else to minimize the damage. Although she could move around and walk, it hurt. Running was probably out of the question. Healing damage done by Leonard's punishments never worked quite the way she hoped. There was no way to forget that she had been punished, and she had to admit that it made her extremely reluctant to earn more.

  More than extremely reluctant. Just the idea of going out and killing the rest of the troop that had slaughtered her village was becoming almost untenable. Pursing her lips, Lyana hobbled to the door and asked a maid in the hall to have breakfast sent to her room. She needed peace and quiet to think.

  Going forward to wreaking more vengeance and garnering more punishment... the idea made her want to weep. But she couldn't turn her back on her people's memory. She'd vowed to avenge them. And Leonard thought that she had some kind of decision to make. Last night he had seemed enraged.
As if what he was doing was more than punishment, it was to teach her some kind of lesson. Before she had thought that there had been no consideration for her, no gentleness during her previous punishments with him, after last night she wasn't so sure. It had been so much worse than before. The idea that a punishment could be even more devastating...

  And her soul was his for eternity.

  A rather tattered soul at this point. Stained with blood, torture, and murder. Her innocence had been lost, and not just physically.

  The knocking at the bedroom door startled her out of her reverie and she opened it to admit the maid, carrying a tray full of food. It smelled heavenly and Lyana realized she was ravenous. Not all that surprising considering the exertion she'd been put through last night. Thanking the maid, she let her back out of the door and sat down to eat her breakfast, her thoughts turning to the Prince and the rest of the troop that she had yet to revenge herself upon. Considering the poor condition of her body currently, she wasn't sure that she could bear doing anything about them today and then having to endure more punishment tonight. That was something she was set on.

  Yet allowing the Prince to be adored by the Court and hailed by his royal father seemed unconscionable. Infuriating.

  Which was worse, the anger and torment that knowing he was being lauded as a reformed man, a hero, or the inevitable punishment that Leonard would wreak upon her?

  Of course, killing him now might not do what she wanted it to either. Sighing, Lyana pushed the last of her breakfast around the plate, feeling her appetite slowly dissolving as she wearily considered her options. Every day it was becoming harder to continue the pursuit of her goals. But if she walked away now, she'd feel even worse about herself.

  The soldier from yesterday morning came into her mind. The one she had let live, under conditions that she felt were appropriate payback for his part in her village's fate. Perhaps there was something she could learn from that encounter.

  That afternoon the entire court gathered in the largest room that the King had available, standing closest to the raised portion at the front of the room. Towards the back the townspeople lucky enough to find a space had packed themselves in, wanting to hear about the Prince's journey to catch the spy and execute him. Gossip had spread all through the palace and all over town. Lyana was among those in the back, with a little judicious use of magic she'd managed to create a space for herself, blending in with the crowd. The dais at the front was quite far away, but the hall had wonderful acoustics, those around her were chattering with excitement and reassuring their neighbors that they'd be able to hear every word.

  Throughout the day Lyana's body had slowly healed, thankfully, so that she no longer felt like she was hobbling when she walked. Areas were still... sore... but not overwhelmingly so and she was careful to use her magic to help her from being crushed by the mass of people surrounding her. A small smile played upon her lips as she considered the drama that was about to be played out.

  The Prince marched in and stood at the head of a selection of his troop, all of them standing stiffly at attention. A moment later trumpets blared, and the King and his Heir entered and sat. The King's throne was at the center of the dais, the Heir's on his right hand. They all certainly looked splendid up there, everything a royal family should be. But one of them was a snake in the grass. Lyana was fairly sure it was just one of them at any rate, considering everything she'd gleaned about the current King and Heir. But she'd know for sure after today.

  The waiting seemed interminable, the crowd buzzing around her, as one of the officials stepped up to the center of the dais and began a long speech, basically describing the greatness of the country and King and the treachery of the spy that the Prince had been sent to hunt down. Apparently, he'd worked his way up to a rather important level in their government before being discovered and then had managed to escape. There was no mention of the fact that the Prince had been sent to track him down in order to redeem himself because of his own nefarious activities, instead the official quickly moved on to declaring the Prince a national hero who had redeemed the country's honor by bringing the traitor to justice. Then he bowed to the King, the Heir and the Prince and announced that they would be hearing from the Prince’s men to tell of their glorious mission.

  Lyana felt her heart begin to race. This is what she had been waiting for. When she'd hunted down the first of the men this morning, she'd spent time questioning him before making any final decisions on the rather hazy plan she'd had in her mind. It hadn't taken that cloudy concept very long to solidify.

  "Colonel Noel Fair, please tell us in your own words, of the mission you undertook with the Prince," the official said, gesturing grandly as he stepped back, allowing the soldier to step forward.

  The man stood proudly in the dais and began to recount their journey, from the travels all the way up to finding a trail that they believed the traitor had left, into the neighboring country and ending at the village of Werth. His voice was loud, projecting into every cranny of the room. The majority of the people had fallen silent to listen to this first witnessing and there were no voices to compete with his.

  A look of confusion came onto the man's face and he shot a frantic look at the Prince as his words began to spill from his mouth. "We were not sure where in the village the traitor had gone and so the Prince entered the first house we found, I and Captain Williams went with him. When they could not give us any information the Prince began to beat the man's wife and then he ordered us to hold the husband while he took her and put her on the table, flipping up her skirts—"

  The room exploded with sound, people shouting in shock as the Colonel continued to recount his story, his voice getting higher and louder, trying to be heard over the room. Inside, Lyana silently laughed with triumph at the look of horror on the King and Heir's faces, the rage on the Prince's, the shock on the fellow soldiers. Colonel Fair continued to speak, phrases and words slicing through the din of noise, thanks to his place on the dais where the acoustics worked the best, recounting the destruction of her village in thorough detail. The Prince began shouting to have Colonel Fair removed.

  The official who had introduced him finally shook himself out of his shock and horror and gestured hurriedly to some guards, who dragged the Colonel from the dais and out of the room. The Colonel continued to shout his experiences—the geas that Lyana had put on him would require him to tell every last detail before he would be able to fall silent. She wondered how the guards who were dragging him away would enjoy hearing the recounting of the Prince's troops' crimes. The official watched the Colonel go before standing at the center and waving his hands wildly for silence. His face as pale and pasty looking, in stark contrast to the purpling red of the enraged Prince's.

  "He's a liar! That man lied! He's another traitor!" The Prince shouted, before the official could say anything.

  An uneasy murmur went throughout the room. No one wanted to say anything too loudly, but it was obvious that the majority of the people in the room knew of the rumors of the Prince's ill conduct before he had left on his mission. Lyana pushed her fierce grin down behind a faked expression of confusion, not wanting anyone near her to see how much she was enjoying herself.

  The King gave his son a measuring look and the Prince stood straighter, throwing his shoulders back and thrusting his chest out as if he could claim veracity based on nothing more than his bearing.

  "Ask him," the Prince said regally, pointing to another man under his command.

  The official running the show gave his King a wary look, the King nodded his head and the official gestured to the man that the Prince had indicated.

  "Step forward please, Captain Williams, and tell us in your own words whether or not Colonel Fair spoke the truth about the actions taken at the village of Werth."

  The Captain stepped forward, his face shuttered of all expression. Lyana wondered if he might choose to speak the truth even if he had a choice. Unfortunately for the Prince, he didn't.
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  "It happened exactly as Colonel Fair stated—" Captain Williams began and the room exploded into sound again as the Prince began ranting—red faced and furious—the gathered crowd growling with anger that Lyana was gratified to see. Through the din, more choice words and phrases came through. "Raped," "Murdered," "None left alive."

  Upon his throne the King watched the proceedings with a completely blank expression, he hadn't moved a single muscle since the proceedings had begun. His eldest son, the heir, was looking rather pale and he kept glancing at another man standing nearby the throne, a man who was looking angrier by the minute—the Ambassador from Lyana's home country. This was becoming more than just an upset for the Prince, it was well on its way to becoming a diplomatic travesty. Considering the public venue and the ambassador, there was no way that the Prince was going to be allowed to get away with his crimes.

  Like the Colonel, Captain Williams was dragged away, still reciting his crimes. The other soldiers standing by the Prince were shifting nervously, guilt writ large across their faces.

  Finally, the Heir stood, the room falling silent as he faced his brother. There was a palpable rage in the room, they had come to see their Prince redeemed and he was standing before them as a criminal.

  "Speak the truth, brother," said the Heir, his voice low and yet it echoed through all the corners of the room. "Are you responsible for these crimes?"

  "Yes!" the Prince shouted, and then blanched with horror as he realized what he had said. It only took him a moment to recover his wits, however. "And what of it? They were nothing but peasants, not even our peasants!"

  The enraged crowed roared and made a movement forward, as if to attack the dais, and the King stood. It was only the deep respect that the people had for their King, who was a good King, that set them back, the roar dying down to a murmur. However, it would have been obvious to a blind man that the people would not tolerate any excuses made on the Prince's behalf. Too many people had suffered by his hand within their own country, and no one wanted war. Except perhaps the Prince.