Page 110 of Devil's Doom

“I want to stuff this cunt full of my cock, seal myself in with my thorns, and never come out. Will you let me, sweet girl?”

I laugh when she nods breathlessly. She’s such an obedient pup now that she finally confessed her feelings. What broke her? I don’t know. She fought valiantly, denying my words of love, pushing them away even though I knew how much she wanted them to be true.

Even that night when we first met, I glimpsed that neediness. After all, what finally made her take me was the race and a very public claiming. I raced the boys in her backward village and caught her chaplet, that beautiful, bespelled thing everyone else spurned.

That’s what she loves and needs, to be chosen above others, to be revered, to be very openly wanted. Jaga seems so old, sometimes, so very jaded, but in this, she is still young. It takes ages to grow out of needing others. Centuries to realize the only person you must prove anything to is yourself.

I slide a finger into her, finding that sweet cunt swollen and wet. Just in time—as I suck her clit into my mouth, she falls apart, her pleasure a visceral thing pulled taut between us. My collateral glows under her skin, bathing her small breasts in red, and I suck on her harder just to get her a few more seconds, that glow my undoing every time I see it.

One of my secrets is, I already knew how she felt about me. Her admitting it out loud was an exhilarating victory, but her love was obvious long before that.

I knew before she even knew herself—when I saw what she did with the vial of my blood.Whereshe put it, tightly guarded inside her deepest place of self, in a space reserved only for the most precious things.

Now it glows, the light faithfully reflecting the innermost beatings of her heart. When she thinks of me, when she feels me strongly, when she looks at my smile and thinks me handsome—that’s when she glows. My perfect, beautiful poppy girl.

“How many orgasms do you think you can take?” I ask idly, letting my mouth hover just over her hard, throbbing clit that I know feels too sensitive to touch. Tough luck. “Give me a number, pet.”

“F-five?”

I smile and give her a long, warm lick, her body shuddering. At my command, ropes race to wrap around her wrists. She forbade my shadows to touch her, as if that would make a difference.

“Ten it is.”

She makes a dismayed sound, but I know I’ll have her riding my tongue and moaning in pleasure long after the timid number she gave me comes and goes. I learned how she works, and now I know with complete certainty when to slow down, when to push harder, what to force and what to leave alone. She’s taken so much of me over the last few days, she doesn’t even know all the things I discovered while she writhed helplessly, chanting my name, because it was the only word she remembered.

I’ll be the master of her in every way. Soon.

At first, I am obscenely slow, feasting on her with decadent abandon, each orgasm drawn out and hard won. I lick and suck, taking sips of her wine in between, because it complements her taste so well. Even the most exquisite food bores me, but her blood, her cunt, and her wine are the three things I’ll never tire of.

When she grows impatient, whining for release, I tease her some more, until…

“Please, Woland. Please. Oh, please, please, please…”

It’s like a spell, and I make her come hard, three times in a row, aiding myself with brutal slaps of magic. She screams, pulling on the ropes, tears falling down her face, and I come up to lick them off. They are fealty, my reward for a task well done, and when she finally falls limp, defeated, conquered,mine,I give her water and feed her small bites of apple dripping with honey.

“There, lick that off,” I say, pressing a fingertip sticky with honey to her lower lip, and she opens her mouth without protest, sucking it deep into her mouth.

I close my eyes and inhale, almost coming on the spot. She’s at her best right now, so very obedient and soft, taking everything I offer. I always loved control, but with her, it’s like a drug, almost as good as her blood. It’s probably because she’s denied me so much and so often. That’s why it tastes so sweet when she gives in.

“How many was that, sweetheart?” I ask when she’s done eating, her legs thrown carelessly open, that glow humming at her throat like a constant, heady reminder of how happy I make her.

“Oh, gods… I wasn’t counting. Six? Was it six?”

I grin. It was actually five, and I’ll make her take one more for failing to pay attention. I tell her as much, and she shakes her head with a deep groan even as her legs fall open wider, that greedy pussy asking for more. She lies in a wet spot, and I press my face to the sheets and inhale, loving that she’s so wet for me.

I never thought I would have so much passion left in my old age. For a long time, I didn’t, but she awoke the things that lay buried.

“Woland, please, fuck me,” she whispers, and my hips flex on their own, my cock dying to be inside her where it’s so hot and wet. Where it feels like home.

But I haven’t broken her too thoroughly yet, and mastery isn’t won through easy means.

“Shh, sweetheart. You’ll get my cock soon enough. Is that what you want? My cock in your needy cunt?”

She nods, those big eyes glistening. How I love looking into them. I still haven’t gotten used to her mismatched gaze, not quite, and the little jolt I get when our eyes meet is everything. I heard someone ask her today how she made a god fall in love with her, and her answer was trite and shallow.

It’s not because she rejected me. Plenty of people do—like Perun, thousand curses upon his heart and children.

No, it’s not the rejection. It’s the little things that make me pay attention. Like the eyes. The rare smiles. The things she hums under her breath when she thinks nobody listens. The things she mumbles in her sleep, that even she herself doesn’t realize. Jaga thinks she’s so clever, so closed off, but she holds few secrets for me now.

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