Victoria's Demon Lover - By Alia Bess
Chapter One
The wind whipped the sycamore outside her window into a frenzy of wicked lashes against her window. The rain came soon after, accompanied by smashes of thunder that rattled the panes. The lights went out.
She knew this storm raged over her little lake house and no one else’s. In the morning the neighbors would remark that they heard a storm in the night, and that it must have been a distant one, for they got no rain. Victoria groped her way to the window. The limp curtains parted for her. The streetlights flickered and one by one winked out. Victoria let the lace drop back into place again, then turned to look over her shoulder at the silvery glow that wisped in a glittering trail around her bedposts.
She made for the soft bedding and the warm blankets. She leapt up and into it, rolled herself in the covers and pulled the long pillows over her head.
And then he was there. The wispy strands of light in her bedroom swirled until they became a solid pillar, then the pillar swirled until it formed a body, then the body became him.
She peeked out from her cocoon of blankets. She felt afraid, but not really. He had come before, she knew what to expect. Each time he had surprised her with a new feeling, a new experience, a different body. The fear intensified all sensation for that brief moment, then dissipated as she learned. She needed that fear to make it good. He knew it.
This time he appeared as a man, however. Unusual. She lowered the blankets, puzzled. She had hoped for something remarkable, dramatic. Perhaps her favorite form that he took on special occasions like her birthday, or Valentine’s day. She liked it when he appeared as a great red demon, towering over her with a well-muscled body and thick curved ram’s horns on either side of his head. She especially liked the prehensile tail of that body. There was double pleasure in that tail. She remembered taking his huge cock in her mouth and feeling that tail snake around to enter her, stroking with the same rhythms she was using on his cock. She squirmed, remembering.
But he was not taking that form tonight.
He appeared as a human being. The body he chose was handsome, with a well-muscled shoulders and hard cut abdomen. She raised an eyebrow as she looked over this new form for tonight’s pleasures. His cock always stood at the ready. He saw her looking at it and enlarged it some more, making it stand even more erect. His hair was short and his beard was stubble over his cheeks and jaw. The face he had chosen was not classically beautiful like a Grecian statue but actually looked like a real man. The nose was strong and aquiline, the mouth wide and generous and his jaw square and strong. She liked this face and wondered who it had once belonged to. He blinked yellow eyes at her, though. He could not disguise his eyes. The demon-yellow would glow no matter what form he chose for their meetings. And this body had a flaw. Around his neck like a noose, was a thick scar, lighter than the tanned skin that surrounded it. She frowned a little, puzzling at that. The demon usually appeared to her in fantastic perfection.
“Demon.” She greeted him.
“Victoria.” Sometimes he disguised his voice, but tonight she recognized the deep baritone as the one he used most often on the few occasions when he spoke to her.
“This form is pleasing to me,” she said unnecessarily, for they both knew that her body had responded with the familiar dampness between her legs. He nodded agreement. Every part of her body was known to him intimately.
“I know what you like, and what you do not,” he rumbled. “Tonight I intend to please you, for I have a favor to ask.”
She pretended to pout. “Yet you know the red one is my favorite.”
He shook his head. “Not tonight. I will please you with this one and you will not be disappointed.”
She unrolled the blankets, all fear now gone, replaced with the anticipation of a few moments of pleasure. A human form was nice, but not titillating like some of the more bizarre bodies he had used. She remembered the Cthulhu-like monster with many waving tentacles whose tips were in an astonishing variety of shapes and sizes. That body had pleasured her to the point where she could no longer gasp for air and had lost consciousness after an orgasm that had lasted minutes. Intense, but not for every-day sex. Special occasions only.
She beckoned to him. “Then come,” she smiled slyly at him.
He climbed into her bed and tossed the blankets away. She lay back on her pillows and opened her legs. Sometimes his visits were for his pleasure. Sometimes for hers. Sometimes for both. Tonight he had said it would be hers. She took a deep breath and sighed out her readiness. She closed her eyes, waiting for that first sensation that would color the experience and categorize it for her memories. What would this one be? Slow and sensual? Hard and fast? Warm and soft or icy and sharp with bitter spears of pleasure mixed in with stabs of pain? She waited.
She felt his hot breath between her thighs and smiled. Oh yes. This will be wonderful. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Between her legs she felt the demon position himself on her bed. He nibbled her inner thigh with soft lips and hard teeth, the short stubble of his beard was a very masculine presence on her skin. She moved her hips on the sheets, eager to feel his mouth on her *. He put it there, warm and wet, nibbling around the edges of her slit, then touching the tip of his tongue to the triangle peak. She tensed and raised her hips to his mouth, encouraging him to continue.
He responded by clutching at her hips and probing deeper, licking and flicking his tongue repeatedly until her legs jerked with spasms of pleasure. He held her knees down with his elbows and squeezed her waist with strong hands. She lifted her hips again and moaned softly. She felt his tongue grow long and slick. She felt the end fork into two thin tendrils that touched her with the tips so lightly and so fast that she jerked her hips again at his face, and cried out for more. Faster and faster he touched her until she felt waves of liquid wet the sheets beneath her trembling buttocks.
She did not want him to stop, but the light touches were maddening and her body cried out for something more substantial. She had begun to rock her hips in rhythm, trying to get closer to feel his tongue harder against her slick *. He resisted, allowing only light touches to her straining body until her gasps and groans became loud.
“Ah, Demon,” she gasped, “Let me come, or let me go!”
She heard him take a great breath in response. His breathing had become ragged as he licked and nibbled and she knew that he never could explore her silky folds without becoming as hard as steel. His own need for her was obvious.
“Demon,” she gasped, “Your tongue is sweet, but I need more substantial food.”
His tongue disappeared and his hot breath became a cool puff as he raised himself above her. She looked down, now, taking pleasure in the huge cock that roared erect between his thighs. The tip shone with the glistening bead of readiness that drooled from the slit. He bent his head to look as well, and used one hand to grasp the shaft. His thumb brushed the bead of clear liquid over the bulging head and his eyes rolled back with the pleasure of his own touch.
Victoria reached for him, grabbed at his arm and raised her legs to cross his hips and pull him closer. He arched his back and slid his cock into her. He pushed slowly, allowing her soft folds to stretch with his entry, embracing his hardness with her soft caress. He pushed until he could go no further inside, his hips met hers with a hard stop and she breathed in the nearness of his mouth and lips as he nuzzled her ear and then her cheek. His throat rumbled with his desire and she felt his self-control in the trembling of his muscles.
Inside her, slick and warm, he rocked with his need until she clutched at his hard buttocks, pressing him into her and begging for the motion that would finally release her from the aching pleasure he had started with his tongue.
He arched his shoulders and drew out slowly. She felt the sliding firmness of his cock on her body and moved hers to maximize the contact with her * as the thick head emerged and touched her there. She moaned as the head entered again, pulling along the lips and folds as the shaft pushed into her, then out faster this time. Again he touched her * with his cock before thrusting inside. He had begun to pant and she knew that at some point his own pleasure would rob him of all thought and planning and art. He would stop playing her like an instrument of pleasure, and instead slake his lust upon her. He would pleasure her until his own called to him and then she must follow or be lost.
But now she was so close to her own explosion of desire that anything he did now would be a triumph. As she expected, his yellow eyes above her face took on that lost look that signaled he was beyond her. His muscles bunched with insistence and his thrusts were no longer slow and gentle. She saw the fire in his eyes that told her she was now his. She arched herself, ready for his pounding thrusts, her thighs tightened and her hands clawed the sheets and mattress beneath her, ready.
He began to groan and his breath was loud, blown between clenched teeth. The stubbled jaws tightened. His body pounded her and his cock thickened and hardened with his impending climax. She closed her eyes to experience every wave of pleasure that was hers with every sliding movement of his hips. She heard the quickening gasp as he took the final breath before he exploded within her. He roared his pleasure and inside she felt the thick hot gush that always burned her when he came. Her body knew that heat and responded with her own peak and scream of pleasure.
He continued to rock her, gouging out her insides with spurts from his cock, over and over while between clenched teeth he groaned in some unknown language, and finished by whispering her name over and over until he sagged against her body and pushed his face into her pillow.
But he was not her lover. He was a demon from Hell and could not love. She waited, unmoving, for what happened every single time he visited her. She counted his breaths, one…two…three…four and on the fifth he disappeared in a puff, leaving behind only wet sheets and her sweating body. She lay there trembling and staring at the ceiling. One leg twitched with the last tingle of her fading orgasm and she sighed.
He had forgotten to ask for his favor.