Page 12 of Prince of Lust

“For cock. For your cock.” I mindlessly rode myself faster and started babbling. “I want you. I want you to scrape my insides. Fuck me. Use me. Make me your slut.”

It grabbed my face and squished my stinging cheeks. “You already are my slut,” the prince said. I glanced down at its cock, which was swelling now. The ridges rose slowly until it bumped in a beautiful way. My mouth opened.

Asmodeus moved one large hand to the back of my head. Its palm encompassed me, warm fingers pressing on either side of my cheek. “Pathetic little whore,” it murmured, pulling my whole body towards it. My fingers popped out of my hole, and I splayed both hands on the bed. My head was hot and empty and wanting. Asmodeus smiled at me, handsome face twisting up with sadistic glee. Then it gripped my hair so tightly I screamed. It shook me. Happy at how limp I was, the demon laughed, and shoved my mouth down onto its red, twinging cock.

My screaming moan was muffled and then choked to death in my throat. The prince was neither kind nor slow with me; it rammed into my mouth. The girth ached my jaw, and I felt the tip slide over the opening of my throat. The ringlike muscle caught it, and Asmodeus forced itself deeper. Barely half of it could fit. I gagged. Thick, stringy saliva pooled out of my mouth around it.

“Such a fucking slut. Listen to you,” it hissed. “No godly man would love this. No good man would want it. Tell me.”

It dragged me off its cock by my hair. Saliva dripped onto the sheets. I coughed and spluttered, and the prince shook my head like a doll.

“Hm?” it prompted. “Say it.”

Rasping, I said, “I love it. I love it.”

I wished I could’ve taken it all. For a moment, Asmodeus’ grip on my hair slackened, and it let me do as I pleased—and pleasing it is what pleased me. I laid the head of its cock beneath my tongue like holy communion and let the precum seep there. I took it into my body spiritually, and I felt it. I felt then what my brethren had claimed to feel all along. God’s voice in their ears, God’s light, God’s love. I had this. I had Asmodeus, Prince of Lust. I had the ecstasy of sex and I worshipped it gladly.

The demon let me suck and lick and moan, and when it wanted more, it grabbed my hair again and shoved itself deeper into my throat. I gagged and spluttered and splayed my hands against its stomach, pushing weakly and half-committedly against the firm muscle. Then I gave in; I slacked and relaxed and did my best to be a good slut. I let it have its way with me, and my moans became infrequent and reactive as my eyes rolled back into my head. I left my body. I felt warm.

“I could do whatever I want to you, couldn’t I?” it murmured. “My sweet little priest.”

I was barely conscious of its words, but heat rushed to my groin again. I loved the way it spoke to me. I love how it could see how desperate I was.

“Fuck me,” I begged. “Please. Please, my prince, please, fuck me.”

I knew I was a mess at this point. Sweat smeared my hair to my forehead, and my mouth was covered with thick, ropey saliva. I was near bowing before this demon. But I wanted it. A near pain spasmed through my cock, and I rutted pathetically against the bed for the friction it offered me.

The demon laughed at me. “Pitiful whore.” Its hand slammed down over my neck and I collapsed into the pillow with a high cry. It moved a finger down to the left of my ass, claw dragging slowly over the sensitive skin.

“Wait,” I said automatically. I squirmed but it just held me down with more pressure. “Wait, wait, your claws—”

“Shh,” it hushed me and pressed inside.

I whimpered, first from the bright and sharp pain and then the feeling of it dragging in and out of me. The demon moved slowly, and I’d already opened myself on my own fingers. This wasn’t about preparation. It was about the pain. The process. It added another, and then another, and worked me like that. I loudly moaned into the pillow, trying to keep my body relaxed. When it grew bored of this, it pulled its fingers free. I clenched on instinct and it laughed.

“Only a whore’s body would react like this,” it told me. Its big hand slapped down on my back several times. Its voice sounded warm and pleased. I grunted with every slap of its hand, the force thundering through my chest. “Masquerading as a priest all these years. I can’t think of a greater sin. Not when your hole is hungry.”

Two warm hands clamped down on my hips and shifted me, dragging me back onto my knees. I braced myself and closed my eyes. It was happening. Finally, finally—and then I howled.

Whatever entered me was not the firm, round girth of a cock. There was a sharp sting and a thin, rope-like wiggling pulsing in and out of my body. Every jutting stroke glided over my prostate, and my body fell helpless. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, I drooled with an overwhelmed pleasure, and I let myself be fucked like that.

“Oh, look at you,” Asmodeus said. “Helpless. Shameful. Defenceless.” Its fingers darted playfully across my back. I moaned when it picked up the pace, tail whipping into me. I squirmed around, my body arching off the bed. The prince pulled my head back. “Little priest, you are the most willing piece of meat I’ve ever fucked.”

God. God. I couldn’t even pretend the demon was wrong. Every thrust had me jolting.

I realised belatedly the thing fucking my insides roughly was its tail. It pressed further inside, and that sharp tip knicks something soft and sensitive—I rolled forward with a strangled scream, and the tail slid quickly out of me.

With one strong, fluid motion, Asmodeus flipped me. It pinned both my hands above my head, crushing against my wrists. My legs were levered apart, but when it bucked at me, I raised my legs obediently until it had folded me into an exposing press.

I still had the awareness to flush.

“I think we’re beyond embarrassment now.” Asmodeus’ tongue licked out, sucking at my earlobe. Warm breath tickled at my neck; every exhale laced with a deep-throated growl. I knew it wanted me, which made me rut against nothing but the cold night air. The pressure left my wrists, and it pressed down onto my chest, moving its head to lick at my underarms, to raze its teeth across my chest, to suck and bite at my nipples. My cock trembled, and Asmodeus didn’t touch it once. Not once.

“Please,” I whined. My hole twitched. The urge to be filled was one that grew from the core of my belly and pulled like gravity. I’d take anything. I’d take its tail again. Its clawed fingers or my own hand.

But, dear God, I wanted its cock.

Asmodeus reared back and scraped its hands down my naked chest. Red welts rose immediately and it smiled, broad and happy at the sight. When its cock slapped against my belly, I froze. My whole body reacted the way I might before an angel. I felt frightened by its age; felt the edges of my own mortality.

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