Written for image 11 for the February contest!
***
He haunts my every dream. Deep, red skin. Devilish horns. A pointed tail. Enormous wings with a span that could easily fill my room.
Months of these dreams. A smile of sharp fangs is a testament to his resolve. A firm grasp on my body tells me that I’m his. He takes me in my dreams from behind. With him on top. With me riding him. He fills my mouth with that fantastically long tongue of his or thrusts himself deep into my crevice. Every dream, I’m screaming in pleasure, begging for more, but I jolt awake, covered in sweat, dripping, thankful that I’m alone. To be had so roughly discomfits my stomach.
Even still, my bud swells with arousal, my hand travels down reluctantly, but it feels good. My finger swipes along my soaked entrance, rubbing my clit. I unravel. Late at night, all by myself, lit by the moon, I come, but it doesn’t compare to the dreams. I pant, feeling empty as a husk, while lust burns through me still, and shame falls over me again. Guilt draws my hand back between my legs, and the night is spent quenching a thirst that cannot be satisfied.
I’m at my wits’ end. I reach out to the clergy and expound on the tremors that plague me. I ask what prayers can give me salvation, but a regretful voice sighs from the other side of the grate. The priest suggests an exorcism: a means to expel whatever demon possesses me at night.
Days later, it feels like nothing more than pomp and circumstance. The priest squints at his book, chanting in poorly articulated Latin at an unsure pace. He splashes me with holy water, wetting the white chemise meant to symbolize purity.
Not a thing changes, and I frown in dismay, listening to the priest drone on about a small offering to the church. I give him what money I can, and he accepts it before taking his leave.
I cry to myself in bed until well into the afternoon, the warm glow of the sun paints my walls orange, and I wipe tears from my eyes, sniffling, sitting up, and crossing my legs. I stare out the window. The sunlight seems to promise brighter days ahead, but it feels so far.
I wipe my eyes again, and the room darkens. Deep, taunting laughter sounds behind me, and my eyes shoot open. I freeze. My shoulders hunch, and I stare in disbelief. The demon from my dreams stands at the edge of the bed. His wingspan blocks the sun, and I wince when he withdraws his wings and the light finds my eyes again.
“I can’t believe you thought that would work,” the demon says.
“What do you want?” I ask him, voice shaking, prepared to sob again. A clawed hand rests on my bed between us, and his other hand reaches towards me. I turn away, averting my gaze, but a pointed nail drags under my chin, and I’m sure he can feel me swallow nervously.
“Odd. I should be asking *you* that,” he answers. His finger curls under my chin, lifting my head to look up at him. I know not whether to focus on his red skin, golden irises, or the menacing horns on his head.
“Haven’t you taken me enough in my dreams?”
The demon shakes his head. “That’s merely an astral projection to tempt you until you’re ready to summon me. The real thing is *much* better.”
“I summoned you?” I ask incredulously, voice slowly losing heart. “Why on Earth would I want this?”
“You must want it more than anything if I stand here before you,” he tells me, unamused. He walks towards the window, and I watch his tail flail around slowly. His arms are crossed behind his back, and he stares at the window, then back towards me.
I hate the way he grins, but I hate it more that the quiver between my legs feels foreign and familiar all the same. Fear mixes with the arousal, and I cross my legs, clenching my thighs together tightly. I stammer a question for the entity, “So you’re not here to ravage me until I beg for release from this life?”
“I’m a demon by nature, but I’m no monster,” he says, shaking his head disappointedly.
I beg to differ; my eyes veer down to the appendage hanging between his legs. I squirm, staring instead at the top of his horns, thinking of how much space he occupies. It makes the room feel cramped.
“I exist to meet the needs of maidens such as yourself. Every desire, I fulfill. Every request, I answer.” He walks closer, his length swinging with every step towards me.
I pull the sheets up to my chest, cowering behind them. Even still, his presence demands attention. Acknowledgement. “How could I have asked for this if I feel so fearful?”
“Some want that fear. Some confuse fear for shame.” The being traces a sharp nail along my cheek. “Which are you?”
I wince, but turn into him briefly before pulling away and shaking my head, shrugging. The room burns hotter, as if he brought the embers of hell with him, but chills cover any exposed skin with goosebumps. “I know not.”
“Then I’ll take my leave until you figure it out. Expect another visit in your dreams tonight.” His power over me is apparent in the way the corners of his lips curl up. “But should you require my presence, you need only to call out my name: Desidius.”
I blink slowly, and he’s gone before my eyelids open.
~
Night falls, and the agonizing heat builds in the pit of my stomach. Shamefully, my hand travels down, hoping to smother the flames. I feel my imagination drift off to anything* besides Desidius.
I think of the men I’ve seen down at the inn. Strangers passing through town. I imagine them wanting a night to rest from their travels. The spontaneity of offering my bed for them has me dripping. How big might this stranger be? Would we spend the night making love? My eyes close, and my fingers swipe over my folds.
To my dismay, this isn’t enough. I can feel my climax resting on the edge, waiting on the brim. No matter how hard or fast I swipe, the tension in my core strengthens with no sign of relief. I pant desperately. Nothing sends me over the edge. I’m on the verge of tears waiting for that sweet release as my fingers tire.
I think of earlier today and the hellish creature that haunts me, mischief all laid out in his grin. I think of the feeling of his claws against my skin. It excites me more than I’d like to admit, and after a sharp exhale and a whimper, I find myself whispering his name, “Desidius…”
My eyes open, and I’m met with darkness. I hear his breath, and I feel the heat of his body. His wings spread out, draping over the bed, cutting all moonlight, but I know he’s there. Taloned feet rest on the other side of my body as he squats, and the sinister mass between his legs hangs flaccid, falling heavy on my stomach.
“I’ve been summoned,” he says. I can hear the mirth in his tone. His amusement from his short laugh. “What is it you desire?”
“Take me tonight. Until I’m begging you to stop,” I whimper, quietly.
“I’ll go slow,” Desidius growls.
I shake my head, wrapping my hands around him, painfully delighted when I feel it harden in my hands. “I’ve had tender. I’ve had slow. That’s not what I want right now. I don’t need mercy or consideration. I want to accept these deep desires to rest once and for all.”
I flinch when I feel his hand rest against my head. Slow strokes of his palm along my hair. His nails trace against my scalp, drawing goosebumps. “As you wish. If you ever seek reprieve, merely will it, and I will be gone as fast as I appeared.”
I nod slowly. The weight of my request dawns on me, sending a shiver down my spine. His wings retract, and his horned form silhouettes against the moonlight that fills the room. His long, forked tongue licks his lips, and he moves down onto the bed, scooting between my legs, sharp fangs point and press into the inside of my thighs, followed by the moistness of his tongue, and he looks at me.
I nod, “Do to me what you will. You need not my approval.”
A low laugh sounds, and I gasp as his tongue finds my folds. It flicks wildly, fluttering against my clit. His arms wrap around my thighs, locking my legs in place, and I feel the flexing of his muscles, hard against my skin. Already, this is worlds better than my fingers.
My fingers grasp the covers, balling the fabric in my hand. Moans fill the room, bouncing off the stone walls, and my breath hollows out as my body arches off the bed. I curse when I feel his tongue slither into me. He licks areas that have never been licked before–where a mortal’s tongue can’t reach–and I feel the muscles of his tongue press against my walls, rolling slowly with every lap. Salacious slurping sounds as he drinks whatever juices drip out from me.
I quiver. Hurried breaths escape in a burst. It feels like a sob, but instead, it’s me begging him to keep going. He stops and licks slowly along the length of my folds, before circling my clit. My whimpers are incoherent broken sentences; only a few words make any sort of sense: More. Please. Close.*
He buries his tongue back inside my slit, and warmth presses against my sensitive spot. I moan louder, the basin building about to break. I feel my stomach tighten and my walls close around his tongue. My hands dare to grab him by the horns, pulling him against me. My hips grind against his face until pleasure crashes over me, violently taking control of my body.
My hips buck wildly, and my voice cries out. Golden irises in a void of black sclera stare at me, and I see him grin.
The husky panting gives me only a moment’s rest before he reaches behind my neck. His grip tightens, and his claws press gently against my skin, drawing a gasp. He pulls me towards him, onto my stomach, until my head hangs off the bed.
I glare in surprise, eyes crossing to take in the monstrous member before me. I can’t believe that I’m salivating. I lick my lips, wanting nothing more than a taste. I let my mouth hang open, and I present my tongue. His mass weighs heavily on me. Timidly, I grip his base; my fingertips barely meet as I stroke. His veins pop against my palms while my lips suckle on his tip. I inch down, taking in what I can, but his girth prohibits me from taking too much.
A hand presses on the top of my head. A firm hold rocks my head back and forth gently. His voice is low, brimming with pleasure. “Good…”
My enthusiasm grows, and I swallow more of him, despite the difficulty. One of my hands wiggles past my stomach, finding the wetness between my legs.
I bob up and down the demon’s length. His hand guides me deeper still. I feel him prod against the back of my throat. I suck around him, and my hand strokes up to meet my lips. Breathing grows difficult, and relief passes over me as he pulls out of my mouth.
“Now it’s time to really get started,” he tells me with a sinister smile. The hand on the back of my head tightens its grip. His other hand curls around the front of my neck, stroking it slowly, and his smirk deepens.
My palms press down under me in an effort to push myself up onto my back. That’s what he wants, isn’t it?
I’m wrong.
His hand squeezes my cheeks, beckoning my mouth open again. I feel his head press between my lips, and I lock around it, feeling its form and lapping up anything that leaks out. The holds on the back of my head and in front of my throat tighten, holding me in place. He’s so strong, and there’s no wiggling out for me.
A muffled yelp barely slips past the cock he thrusts in my mouth. My eyes widen, staring up at him. He withdraws before quickly pushing himself back in. He speeds up, reaching further and further into my throat. Panic expands my chest and short breaths barely give me the air I need. I feel my lips quiver around him, and the more I struggle, the harder he seems to go.
But I can’t ignore the burning in the pit of my stomach or the dripping between my thighs. My fingers find my wetness. They quietly play, and I do everything in my power to stifle my moans.
I fail.
He catches wind of my moan and grins to himself. He pulls out of me, and I look at his length covered in my slobber. “You like this, don’t you?”
My head hangs down in shame, and I nod silently. Desidius tilts my head up, and his eyes narrow, his slitted pupils staring sharply towards me.
“Do you want more?”
“Yes…” I’m not convinced my voice pushes the word out, but I feel his hands grasp my head again before pressing himself into my throat again. His hips move faster than they did before. The lewd echoes of my throat fills the room. A tug on my hair rolls my eyes back, and my fingers flick faster against my bud.
He’s relentless. Not so much as a pause to let me regain my breath, but I like it better this way. I feel my mind shut off, and the void in my head is peaceful at last. No shame. No fear. The feeling of him pulsing in my throat always brings me back, and I find myself sucking him, tightening my lips around him, massaging the bottom of his shaft with my tongue.
“Come down my throat,” I try to tell him, but I’m too muffled for him to make out my words. My eyes look up, pleading. I feel my lower lip quiver beneath the weight of his thickness. He plunges in and out.
My fingers hook against my sensitive spot, massaging my rigid walls until my hips are writhing above the bed. I don’t need to announce my climax. I’m sure he can tell. He thrusts faster. My fingers flick harder against my walls, pressing every time he pushes into my throat. I whimper around him, and I hump my hand until my fingers are soaked.
I gasp as his cock returns to the open air, twitching and throbbing. Air slowly returns to my lungs. Content in my own satisfaction for now, both of my hands encircle him, stroking up and down. I love how smoothly my hands glide now that he’s covered in my spit. Curiosity strikes, and the seed I believed to be so vile, and I now have a craving for.
Desidius removes my hands. He lifts me briefly before pushing me onto my back. My heel kicks against the bed to scoot myself up towards my pillows, but his hands grab tightly around my waist and drag me back to the edge.
There’s an unparalleled excitement I feel when his hands grip the back of my knees, spreading my legs wide. I see him hang down, aiming his tip towards my entrance. He prods in, and my eyes widen. My hands rest on his hot stomach. I feel the tightening of his core beneath my fingertips.
“Wait–” I plead nervously, but the arousal spurred by his pressure betrays me.
“Isn’t this what you want?” he muses aloud. A roll of his hips glides his head along the length of my wetness, drawing a groan from my lips. His hands wrap around my wrists, and I allow my arms to slack, relinquishing control to Desidius.
I don’t resist as he pins both my hands above my head while the other wraps around his base, steadying himself before he plunges in. My lips hang open as I watch him ease in, and I gulp hard, feeling the fresh rawness of my throat. He keeps a firm hold on my wrists, and I feel every inch as he pushes further. It’s a thickness I’ve never felt before. My eye twitches as the room blurs. I’m pulsing around him, stretching to accommodate his girth.
I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. Playfully, I try to push my hands towards him, but I’m delighted when he holds them against the bed. A stroke goes deep, pressing hard against the end of my walls. Shallow breaths are all that can keep my head at bay.
The force of his hips and his grasp on my wrists keeps me pinned to the bed, but still, I crane my head up with puckered lips, desperate for more touch. His mouth crashes into mine, and I moan against him. Helpless whimpers. The perfect amount of pain to accentuate the pleasure. I feel his tongue wiggle into my mouth, and I find myself sucking on it, pulling away, falling into the bed, gasping for air as my back arches up.
I look down at my stomach, arousal increasing at the sight of the bulge poking out of my stomach in tune with his merciless thrusting. The harder he pushes, the closer I am to unraveling. I beg him to keep going. From my cries, he can feel how desperate I am for release. Desidius pounds harder, grunting ferally.
I feel him push against my sweet spot, and repeated thrusts push me the rest of the way. My body so desperately wants to curl and collapse in on itself to ride out the bliss, but his strength holds me down, leaving me to twist under him. My hips buck upwards, my clit grinding against his groin. My motions move faster, unrefined, until I’ve milked out every ounce of pleasure as I can.”
My body relaxes. My head feels so light. A light laugh escapes. I’m in disbelief that one can feel this good.
He pulls out, and his strong hands turn me over, pulling my hips up. I feel his member slap against my slit, and he lines himself up against me again. I wince. No warning. No easing. Just his hilt against my ass. Desidius pounds repeatedly, and my arms can hardly hold myself up.
My face meets the fabric of my sheets with a crash as my arms are pulled out behind me. Tension increases as his hands wrap around my elbows, using my arms as a means to pull me back onto him. Every stroke dulls my thoughts further. My words drip from my mouth much like the saliva pooling below me, “So…good…”
My cheek presses into the satin sheet as a hand pushes me down. Grunts overpower my moans. A newly freed hand goes back to clawing the sheets as my body nearly melts in ecstasy. I feel my legs shake. At this rate, I’m going to collapse.
I just have to hold on a little longer. My thighs tremble, and my knees close. Muscles twitch, and my body spasms with nowhere to go. I’m stuck in place, forced to wallow as a pleasure rolls over me in droves.
The bliss subsides, and I push him out of me, collapsing forward on the bed. My hand weakly goes up to my face, wiping my cheeks dry. These aren’t tears of despair, but instead of unbridled joy, the surprising sobs are my disbelief.
I look over my shoulder at him, pushing off the bed and laughing when my arms collapse under me. There’s a certain sort of freeness. I feel no longer weighed down by hangups or principles. The only thing left for me is pleasure.
“I take it you’ve had your fill,” Desidius tells me.
Absolutely, and then some. There’s a warmth in my chest. Gratitude. Appreciation. But there’s also a burning heat in my stomach: a hunger for more. My body shakes, and I wonder how well I would hold up. I break eye contact nervously, looking away before returning my attention to the way he throbs.
Words don’t come easily. I stammer, and incomprehensible mumbling is reduced to a welp when he picks me up with ease. His arm wraps tightly around my neck, holding me high, resting just above the tip of his sword.
“Come on. Give me one more,” he says. I nod shamelessly, and he pulls me down onto his cock, filling me easily. He lowers me, slowly at first, and my arm reaches up to hold his arm, stroking it tenderly. I feel his muscles flex before he drops me onto him, impaling me in full.
At last, my knees hit the bed. I would fall forward if he didn’t hold me up, but I moan for him as he continues to press into me. His hand travels down my stomach, circling my swollen bud, and his arm loosens its hold, moving down to wrap around my stomach.
His rhythm and pace build me up. He’s so deep. His arms tighten around my torso, and each trust seems to hit deeper than the last. I wonder to myself how this hellish demon makes me feel so heavenly.
The nail in the coffin is his tail slowly coiling around my neck. Breaths toughen as he constricts, and my head feels light. Air thins, and I feel as if I could float. His strong arms, burning hot against my skin, keep me tethered to this plane.
Every thrust drives hard against my sweet spot, and I cry out as he speeds up. It’s almost too much to handle, and any attempt to delay my crash is futile. I press back against him, following his rhythm, my rear clapping on his thighs with every collision.
I reach up, pulling Desidius by the horns down to meet my lips. Impassioned kisses feel desperate. His fangs dig into the soft skin of my bottom lip. I lick the taste of iron from my lips.
His tail closes tighter around me ever so slightly, and the room goes black. Sensations heighten. My walls ache, contracting around him, wrapping to his form, tensing to hold him in. I feel him throb violently, spurting into my depths, filling me up.
I push him out, and he releases his hold on me. I fall onto the bed, barely catching myself, and I roll over onto my back. My vision still blurred from the reduced airflow and dizzying pleasure, I can still make out his glowing yellow eyes and that bright, white smile.
My eyes trail down, and I can still make out the contour of his cock, still standing tall, raring to go.
But I can’t. Not quite yet.
He vanishes into a puff of black smoke before I can get a clear view of him. A smile spreads across my face. I wonder if the pleasure was simply another vivid dream or fantasy explored.
The proof leaks out of me, white, molten, dripping down onto my bed. My fingers trail down to feel the sultry mix of our juices. I bring a hand up to my neck, holding the sides. My fingers continue to play. Even though my body aches, one thing still manages to escape my mouth between moans:
“Desidius…”
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