Page 13 of Prince of Lust

Gently, teasingly, it rubbed itself against the down of hair on my stomach, catching the side of my own cock every few strokes.

I dropped my head back into the pillow and groaned, frustrated. Please. Please. I’m breaking—can’t it tell? Can’t it tell?

“I’ll do anything,” I whispered, and I meant it. “I’ll do anything, just please.”

It raised one pointed brow. “I believe you, slut,” it whispered, almost sweetly. “Such keenness in your face. And your body. . .” A finger pressed to the throbbing tip of my cock.

“Fuck.”

The prince chuckled and glided its fingers up my chest with awful, playful slowness. Then it pushed the pad of its finger into my jugular and leaned forward with a hungry, malignant gleam in its eyes.

Its dark eyes encompassed me. “Are you God’s bitch?”

I stared at it. I felt compelled to keep my mouth shut. A snarl crossed the demon’s face, and it pressed closer to me, folding my legs even further so my feet bobbed in my periphery. It slid its cock against me and pressed against my hole—pointedly, not enough to push inside, but enough for my body to react. Frustration and something more sinister—the same kind of violence that filled me when Oliviero interrupted us—entered me now.

“Fuck me,” I told it.

It slapped me. Hard. My head sprung to one side. Pain blistered across my cheek, but when I opened my mouth, I was smiling. Self-flagellation is not new to me, and this? This felt not like religious discipline but ecstasy.

“I said.” The Prince of Lust growled and whispered against my ear. “Are you God’s bitch?”

I shivered and felt its cock throbbing against me. I was inches away from losing my mind to this beast, seconds from irrevocably changing my life and letting myself be free and wild and filled.

I glanced up at it. I made sure it was seeing me—and seeing me truly. It tore God’s collar from my throat, and I didn’t pick it up. I risked title and station and honour, my very life, my mortal soul, to summon it into existence. I haven’t been God’s for a while.

“No,” I told it. “I’m yours.”

It grinned. Then, both giant hands pressed against my inner hips and pushed my legs apart as far as they would go.

My breathing went erratic, eager, wanting. My groan was low and long as the demon’s cock slowly slid inside. I tensed around it, and then I howled.

There’s nothing else for a moment. My body was hot and full—full to bursting. I kept clenching and unclenching instinctively around the thing twitching inside me. Asmodeus rolled its hips and ignored whatever high-pitched whines I was making.

“Wait,” I murmur, “wait, I can’t—”

It slowed, dragging itself all the way out so I could feel my hole twitching and pulsing around nothing but the air. Then it plunged back into me. I screamed and snapped back against the sheets, fingers twisting desperately for purchase.

And then it started slamming me.

I nearly passed out. I was breathing short, shallow breaths. The air struggled into my lungs and was half of it expelled with every brief, reactive moan. I slid into a different state. The world fell away until I could feel only my body—but I had no control. I felt everything happening to it, and could do nothing by take it. Each slam rocked me back and forth over the ridged cock. My body relaxed into it with a shiver. Discomfort became an instantaneous pleasure. I let it thrust wildly into me and loved it.

It was like I was realising my true purpose for the first time. All I was meant to be, all I was good for, was being this demon’s slut. Its sex toy. Meat, a hole, nothing but this. Asmodeus would use me like a cock sleeve and fill me up, and I would thank it when it was over. Beg for it to do it again. Beg for it to use me until I couldn’t be used at all.

My body writhed, and I grabbed the back of the prince’s thighs and ground up into it. It sank into me until it was rolling its hips, balls slapping against my own with every movement. My hands quivered. I didn’t want this slowness. I didn’t want its teasing.

I said, “I’ll never say another prayer to God in my life if you fuck me hard. I want you. I want all of you. Make me a fucking mess.”

Asmodeus’ smile was slow and malevolent. “As you wish.”

The pace quickened and then doubled until every slamming fuck was crushing my lungs. I screamed. Warm hands wrapped around my throat and pressed. No air—nothing but the devastating pressure. Hands crushing my windpipe. Lungs straining, then burning. Hands went limp at my sides as my body flopped around, moved only by the prince’s cock. My eyes rolled. Vision began to blur—I was dying. I was going to be fucked to death. My straining cock quivered.

This was it. I was consumed by it—I was such a slut, just something to be used, and I loved it. With my life edging out of me, I had never felt closer to true bliss.

The pressure released, and I gasped raw and red. Air seared down my bruised throat—and the thrusting didn’t stop.

“Take it,” it roared at me. I was babbling beneath it. My feet bobbed pathetically. My moans pitched higher and higher. The demon thrusted, grip firm on my shoulder, grazing my prostate with every hard slam. I felt it in my stomach, felt it deep inside my body. Everything ached. Everything hurt. I was pulled roughly out of ecstasy into a screaming fear—I would die to this ruthless fuck.

“Please,” I whispered.

---