Page 111 of Devil's Doom

I know some names that spilled out while she writhed, gripped by a nightmare. A tender lover would have woken her, but I was more interested in learning what she said in that vulnerable moment of terror.

Jaromir. Daga. Miroslaw.

She said my name in her nightmares, too. It made me laugh, and I woke her with my tongue between her legs as a reward. She was so confused, afraid at first, and then horny, always so horny for me.

“That’s eight, in case you forgot to count again,” I say smugly, folding my arms on top of her belly to lean my head there. I deserve a rest. “With how swollen this pussy is, I think I’ll have a hard time coming in. What do you think? Will it be hard to fuck you? Or laughably easy?”

She doesn’t understand me. Her eyes are hazy, face flushed, and when I push her thighs further apart to blow on her wet, oversensitive flesh, she moans and clenches her muscles tightly, giving me my answer. It won’t be easy at all. She’ll probably hurt when I bottom out inside her, and it will be perfect.

“Tell me something. I made you come eight times, my precious girl. Entertain me for a moment while I rally for the final three orgasms.”

“You can… give me the final three… when you’re inside me,” she says, slurring a little, every word an effort.

I laugh. “That’s a great joke. See? You can do anything when you put your mind to it. Let me help you up a little so you can see the beautiful puddle you made for me here.”

The ropes tighten and tug, lifting her up. She cries out, head lolling, and I come up to hold her.

“Look. Do you see that? That’s how wet your master makes you. Who am I to you, sweetheart? Will you tell me today?”

Her gaze sharpens, just a little, and I grin, knowing what’s coming.

“I will not call you ‘master’.”

“Ah, but maybe you will after eleven. Or should we keep pushing? Maybe you have twenty in you, sneaky thing? Maybe then you’ll finally tell me who I am to you? We both know it’s true. You belong to me.”

She shakes her head, more fire burning in her eyes, and I know I have her where I need her. She floated away a bit too far, detaching from her body, but now she’s back, and she’ll feel everything I do to her. She’ll feel it keenly. Just as she should.

“Let’s see now. I’ll make you lose your mind, sweet thing. Or better yet: I’ll make you pray to me.”

Her disdainful scoff turns into a whimper when I spread her open with my tongue, pressing two fingers deep inside that wanton cunt. I send teasing currents of magic into her, just enough to make her aching muscles clench, but not enough to make her come. She shakes and begs, her naked body glistening with sweat. Her words are slurred and sloppy, my girl at her fucking limit.

I adore this place, where she’s strung so tight, there is nothing between us left. This place, the edge of the knife, is where she’s the most honest. My beautiful little liar, finally admitting the truth.

“Who is your god?” I snarl, my patience at its limit.

“Y-you!”

“Say my name.”

“Woland!”

“Say my other name.”

“Diabel!”

“Who is your master?”

“You!”

“You may come.”

She keens, high-pitched and loud, the sound closer to pure suffering than bliss. When she falls on the sweaty sheets, breathing hard, I smirk, even though her eyes are closed and she can’t see me.

“That was nine, sweetheart. Two more. You deserve them since you prayed so nicely to your god and master.”

She shakes her head, some hair that fell out of her braids sticking to her sweaty temple.

“Go… fuck… yourself.”

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