0 comments/ 2583 views/ 1 favorites Baiting the Beast Ch. 02 By: FeralDog Veryl didn't understand why he was so agitated. He paced his room, his steps in the heavy boots heavy on the wood floor, trying to take deep breaths, trying to calm himself. It was almost as if he were feverish, but he was a fire demon, a hellhound. It was not likely that a fever was the cause. His hands shook as he leaned on the low dresser on one side of the room. He drew another breath in and swallowed hard, but it barely helped. It just didn't make sense. He wished Sierra hadn't gone home; even though she'd be back within the month, he longed to run his hand through her hair, sniff at her skin...taste her... Realization struck him, and he felt ill. He was feeling the Binding, the primal urge demon kind felt when they happened upon someone compatible with them, similar to the attachment humans felt to those considered 'soulmates'. The only problem was, that didn't make sense. It only happened when the female was within sniffing distance; he'd never heard of it happening when the female wasn't actually there. It wasn't a major problem, though. He could leave and be there in only an hour or so, and take her there and then. She wouldn't mind. She'd likely jump him before he even had a chance to sneak up on her, the silly woman. She had a habit of catching him off guard. He put his hand on the door knob and froze. Distantly, he heard a gentle voice, murmuring, and felt the accompanying buzz of an answer in the back of his head. Instantly, he became aware he was uncomfortably aroused, almost painfully. He snatched his hand back from the door and backed away, magic sparking around him as he struggled for control. Sierra was his wife, the love of his life, there was no doubt about it. She was perfect, her temperament suited his, and her body was beautiful. She was a warrior, like he was, and she understood that as a demon, he had to be faithful to his Contract first, and then to her, but... He was not feeling the Binding for her. His door opened and she stood there, not bothering to knock. The young woman he recently found after years of chasing, the woman he'd hunted. She was possessed illegally by a far stronger demon, their pact strong, and she'd been causing major trouble with the unbalance the demon's magic caused, but she herself was a calm, kind spirit. Her long acquaintance with the demon had left a toll on her, giving her an unusual appearance; silver hair, curled into ringlets down her back, pale skin, light grey eyes, as if all her color had been washed away through the years. She was beautiful, too, and had her own magic, a subtle blend of ice and perhaps just a touch of aether. She stopped in the doorway, losing her smile at his glare. Her eyes widened, just a touch, and she half turned to run, but he moved too fast for her. His hand tangled in her long hair and he jerked her back into the room, then slammed the door shut. She landed hard and scrambled to push herself back, away from him, as he panted, heat tearing through him. "What are you doing?" Her voice was a whisper, and he heard more voices outside, Rose and Sarah. He expected her to scream for help, wanted her to, but she remained silent. He realized she trusted him more than she trusted those two, and cursed her mistake. "Get out." He snarled. Her eyes snapped to the door, and he realized he was holding it shut. "I can't." She said, and he tried to make himself throw her out. His muscles did not obey, too focused on getting what his body so desperately craved. His hand clenched into a fist, nails leaving shallow gouges in the door. He saw her fear and then, to his annoyance, he heard the demon within her, his voice dark. [Blast him out of the way.] His voice was cold, and it echoed in her mind. Her head tilted, just a little bit, and he saw her considering it, and that made the anger simmer over, hint at rage. "I don't want to." She whispered, but her eyes were distant. Veryl pulled the magic towards him, weaving it into the walls, and snapped his barriers in place; not physical ones, but Seals designed to prevent demonic interference. She drew in a sharp breath and let out a sharp cry, cut off from her demonic protector, and fear flowed into her empty eyes. "That's better." He growled, and she put a hand to her mouth, pushed herself further away. He stepped forward, quickly, too fast for her to move and reached down, caught a handful of her shirt and lifted her off the ground. "You pay attention to ME, not him. You look at ME." He shook her, slightly, and then reminded himself not to harm her. "St-stop this." The tremble in her voice annoyed him. He bared his teeth and let go, and she hit the floor as he paced back and forth, in front of the door. He made a few passes, thinking, then caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He spun around and backhanded her as she pulled at the door knob, breaking the Seals; he slammed his hand on the door once more, shutting it and slammed the Seals back in place. He looked at her, laying on the floor, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. "Damn you." He snarled. "Why did you even come in?" He dropped to his knees on either side of her and she held her hands up, as if to protect her face. He grabbed her wrists and slammed them down to either side of her head, looking down at her. "I don't want to hurt you." His own voice trembled, and he spoke true; he didn't want to, but the magic that wove between them was powerful. It demanded her sacrifice, and he was near powerless to resist it. "I don't mind being hurt." Her voice changed, and drew a shuddering breath as she spoke. "You don't know what you say." He warned her, but his heart throbbed. It was true. She did not shirk from pain, and she bore the brunt of magic well. Her possession by the other demon proved that well; his magic, the magic of Void, of Darkness, was reflected in her eyes sometimes, his power channeled through her, and still she allowed him to remain in her soul. Would she for Veryl, as well? "I do. You're in pain." As she spoke, her eyes welled with tears. "He was too. I can protect you-?" She had no idea what she was offering, but the magic was already marking them. She tensed as she felt her left hand heat up, lines carving themselves into her palm. A matching Seal was cutting itself into Veryl's hand, shallow but hot, blood welling up in the cuts. "You're an idiot." He ground out. "You've no idea what you just accepted. Why do you do that?" He lifted her wrists and slammed them down, and she cried out. He leaned down and kissed her, heat roiling around them, his power fueling the flames that sprouted around them. Their tongues played together, and he tasted the saltiness of tears, the evidence of her fright. One of his hand let go of hers, slowly, his fingers trailing down her arm, whispering over her clothes as she lay under him, quivering. "If you don't fight me, I won't hurt you." He promised her. "Just let me...just give yourself to me." He gripped her bodice and tugged, persistent, until it ripped at the seams and bared her untouched flesh. She whimpered and turned her head to the side, looking away, but still did not fight him. He didn't dare breathe as he brushed a single finger around her nipple, then gently, holding his breath, he gripped her full breast in his hand. It was as he thought it might feel, slightly cool to his heated touch, her skin soft but firm, perfect. Unable to resist, he leaned down even further and licked her. She panicked. He felt it before she did, really, in the way that her skin prickled in goosebumps, and then her hips bucked upwards and she began to struggle against him. She was stronger than the average human, due to her nature and prolonged exposure with the supernatural, but he was still stronger. She managed to shove him off balance and push herself backwards a few feet, but he grabbed her ankle and dragged her right back. She screamed and begged him to let go, but he was too far gone. He caught hold of her hands again, shoved her down and his teeth closed on her throat. He tasted blood and he told himself to stop before he heard her seriously, tried to drag himself back. He pushed himself up, away from her, looking down at her. Veryl cursed himself and with the same breath, couldn't help but admire her body, her form, how beautiful she was. Even as she cried underneath him, he cherished this sight. He used one hand to hold both of hers down and slipped his other up her skirts, nails getting caught on the stockings she wore. Impatiently, he ripped them away and braced himself. He could feel the need of it burning in him, like the sun itself. "Stop struggling." He was almost begging her. "Please, stop...I'm trying to be careful, I'm trying, but I can't stop, so please, just stop struggling. I'll be careful, just..." he was holding one leg still by bracing his knee against it, the only by digging his hand into her soft thigh. He smelled more blood, knew he had went through her skin. "Stop moving!" He roared at her, and she stilled. He calmed himself as much as he could before he kept going. He pushed her skirts up to look at her, bared to him, her skirts pushed to her waist and her bodice gone, her silver hair spread under her. Her breasts were heaving with each deep breath, which only made him hunger for her more. He nibbled on her throat, pressing himself against her, pinning her to the ground, and slipped into her folds. She let out a little mewling sound and he pressed further, then froze. Gods, what a mess. "You've never..." He muttered. "You should have run. I swear, I will make it as gentle as I can, okay? Just stay still." He was whispering to her softly as he invaded her. Her lips trembled as he slipped a second finger into her, stretching her opening to make it easier. Her hips moved, her back arched and he took the invitation to press in even deeper. She writhed under him, frost spreading under them as his flames roared in his ears. Ice and fire, their magic clashed together and battled; he knew he'd come out the victor. She was too gentle, unwilling to harm him. She cried out as he broke her barrier and the ice broke apart underneath her, and she collapsed, breathing hard. He slipped another finger into her and stroked her, inside and out. Veryl knew he was using her, both her mind and body. He was safe in the knowledge that regardless of how powerful she was, she'd not use a drop of magic against him, too frightened of doing permanent harm, and in a physical contest, she'd lose every time. "It's too hot..." She moaned, blood rushing to her cheeks. "I'm sorry, sweet. It's going to get hotter." He pulled his pants loose and held her down as he put himself in position. He kissed her, tongue delving in to tease hers as he plunged his cock into her sex. She screamed against his mouth and he took it in, letting her cry. In a perverse way, it satisfied him, the knowledge that no other man had ever touched her, and his mark was branded into her, quite literally, dug into her hand. He smelled blood and the cool scent of snow; he broke from her lips to look around. Snowflakes were falling from the ceiling. He moved within her, gently at first, then faster. She moved with him, almost instinctual, despite herself, she met him stroke for stroke. He slipped his hand under her head and lifted her, then another under her hips to let him dive even deeper into her moist folds. Uncaring for her pleasure, or that she was not ready for such treatment, he strived to reach every part of her. She pushed at him, whined, whimpered and begged, but he'd not let go. The more she fought, the more he was losing hold of what little sanity he had left. He rolled, pulling her on top of him, and held her hips still. "Stop fighting...look, you're there..." He caught the hand aimed at his face and they struggled. "Stop!" He snarled, and her head fell to his chest, her hair spread over him. He lay there, panting, and ever so slightly, he shifted. She dug her nails into his shoulder. After a few minutes of struggling with himself, he relaxed, although one part of him remained rock hard. She took the initiative, slowly, but realized with her atop him, she could take over their encounter. She shifted forward and rocked on top of him, panting harshly. He cupped her breasts in both hands, in bliss as he passed his thumbs over her areolas and nipples, and they hardened under his fingers. She tilted her head back, eyes half closed, her moans filling the room. Her skirt fell around her hips and hid the sight of their joining; he found that he didn't mind. The feeling of her riding him was enough, her breasts bouncing lightly, her hair lit by the fire that surrounded him, her eyes dull and glassy as she bit her lip. Her pale lashes closed against her flushed cheeks as he felt her clench around him, giving in to her completion, and she collapsed against him. He stroked her head, smoothing her hair and whispering nonsense. He moved in her, and she gasped. He wouldn't let her go, not until he'd achieved what he wanted, his own domination of her, his scent on her, his touch everywhere. He kissed her temple and she pushed herself up and as he thrust into her, and he claimed her lips again, moaning against her softness. He came as she did, and bit his lip as his hips pushed his cock as deep as it could go, filling her completely. She lay on top of him and as the magic slipped away from him, he felt the heat finally dissolve into liquid warmth, pooling around him, lulling him. His head dropped back as his eyes shut, almost without his knowledge. He felt himself falling away, falling into sleep, helpless against its call. Baiting the Beast Ch. 03 I know him. I've known him forever. The moment I gained awareness, he was there, swirling around in my thoughts. When I spoke, his voice answered me. He cherished me, he taught me, he pampered me in every way he could think of. Poured his power into me, gave me things, trinkets and clothes, anything I asked he would find a way to give. Everything except my life. I was a full grown woman who had been nothing except pampered, I was lovely and beloved and beautiful, and I was sought after. I fell in love with another, I lay with him, when my heart couldn't stand refusal any longer, and the other's rage was great. I felt it, cold and hateful, so different from the fire my love gave unto me. I feared revenge, though. I knew it would come eventually. Time passed. I began to suspect he'd found another victim. Perhaps he had not forgiven me, but simply lost interest. I was only one out of many, after all. I was in no way unique. But I was wrong. He came to me one day when my love wasn't there. I could feel his touch slithering up one leg as I lay on the bed, still dozing. That was new. While he had occasionally made his presence known to me by touch, it had never been so...intimate. "Dejainel?" I asked, softly. The caress turned to pain, claws digging into my thigh and I screamed, but another hand covered my mouth and pulled me back against a cold body. I couldn't see anything. I have never set eyes on him. He caught my wrists and held them above my hand, but I noticed they were not held by something that felt like a human hand. More like...claws. Talons. I struggled to speak, but then felt his tongue lick me, from my shoulder all the way up my throat. It was long and slime dripped down my body where it had been, and I shuddered. [You do not enjoy my touch any longer?] He asked. "I do not belong to you!" His hand moved enough for me to speak. "I'm with him now..." [I have no care for him.] To my horror, as he spoke I could feel something slithering across the skin of my buttocks. I let out a yelp and jerked. He laughed, the sound skimming over my flesh. "What-?" But he didn't let me finish. My hands parted, held out at my shoulders instead of together above me, and he forced me to my knees on the bed. A strip of fabric covered my eyes and then I could see nothing, but I could still feel him; holding my hands out, the thing working its way across my backside, his little kisses on the back on my neck. I decided to try once more to speak to him. We had been beloved to each other once; he may remember and still end this. "Dej-" [You will not speak my name.] He said, and I felt fingers force their way into my mouth, holding my tongue down. I writhed, but I was no match for his strength. [You betrayed me. You promised me you would give yourself to me, and only me, and be mine forever, and then you lay with him. I will never forgive you.] His words were spoken with a quiet certainty, no hate in them now. I wanted to scream, argue, plead. I made that promise when I knew nothing of the world but him. I swore to him when he was all I had ever encountered, ever thought to be. He had tricked me into thinking of him as my everything, and stolen it all away from me before I even knew what it was I had. How could he feel as if I betrayed him? The thing on my butt slimed its way into my underwear. I thrashed, but his hold was absolute. He took his fingers out of my mouth and I felt the magic surrounding us. I could scream until my throat ripped itself to shreds; no one outside this room would hear my screams. I knew his magic well. "You're going to...?" I couldn't even say the terrible word, but I could feel his intentions clearly. [I am.] He confirmed, and the thing touched my clitoris. I scoffed. I was not so easily swayed. He could abuse me for as long as he liked, I would not call out to him. I was not some damsel, reduced to a blushing puddle with only a touch. If he thought that was how the night would go, he'd be disappointed by the end of it. But to my surprise, he did not violate me immediately, as I assumed he would. One of his hands groped for my breast, the other slipped down to join the...there was no other word for it. A tentacle was creeping around my body. He slipped his finger into me as the thing coiled around my clit. His hand on my breast squeezed briefly, then his fingers found my nipple. Instead of grabbing for it, as I thought he would, he began to let his finger graze over the sensitive skin around it. With his fingers moving slowly and the tentacle touching everything but my clit, I felt anger well up within me. This wasn't fair! There was force, yes, but the talons holding my hands were they were had a gentle touch...only being tight enough I could not pull away. It would be better if he simply took me, ravaged me, because then I couldn't feel so...so hot. "Fuck me, if you're going to." I spit out. He laughed. [Does he not know how to tease you, like this?] He asked. "Or do you not know how to fuck a woman? Have you ever done it?" I sneered at him. I wanted him angry, so he could hurt me and I could hate him. I didn't want this, this, this horrid slow seduction. It was almost as if he still cared... He didn't rise to me bait. Instead, he gently probed me with two fingers, adding to the one already exploring, and found a particularly sensitive area. My head tipped back, involuntarily, as he massaged that part inside me, and I let out the tiniest of whimpers, and yet I could feel how satisfied that made him. Anger coursed through me, and sickness, but so did hot pleasure. I bit my lip in an attempt to stop any further sounds from escaping me. His grip tightened and his fingers went deeper. I drew in a sharp breath, despite my resolution to not make another peep, and he laughed softly at me. How I hated him! I could feel the tentacle, oozing slime all over my clit and curves. My underwear was soaked. It finally brushed against my clit directly, and I could feel the rushing in my ears as my body fought my mind to succumb to him. I gritted my teeth and distracted myself by biting my cheek. My teeth drew blood and he made a small, disappointed sound behind me, feeling that I had cheated him out of the thing he wanted so badly. He withdrew his fingers, letting the tentacle stay where it was, and I felt them being pushed into my mouth. I wish I could have fought him, but his raw strength far outweighed mine, so he made me taste myself. I could no longer bite my cheek, either, and biting his fingers did nothing; he only laughed at me a little more. The thing brushed against my clit again, and I could do nothing. That feeling, that tightness, swept through me and I came, my body betraying me as I gasped out with the...how to describe this feeling? It was not pleasure, because I did not one bit of satisfaction. It was more like an automatic - yes, that was it. My body responded to the stimulus in a farce of an orgasm, but there was no joy behind it. It was empty and bland. It didn't matter, though. I was wet, both because of my own fluids and because of his...tentacle. I felt a new thing then, hard and rod-like. "I didn't even know...you had a dick." I snapped. This was false; not because I had experienced it before, but because he was male. It only stood to reason. It was just that I still hoping to goad him into anger. Of course, the effect was somewhat ruined since I was panting when I said it. His patience, as it had always been, was near infinite. Instead that thing pulled my underwear down around my knees and the talons pulled me forward, his hands leaving me completely to push and bunch my skirts around my waist. This bared my backside to him completely, and while his dexterous limb continued to taunt my clit, his hands touched butt, roving over the flesh, pinching occasionally, but never hard. His shaft was nestled at my opening, but he didn't prod yet. He just let it lay there, uncomfortable and bothersome, as he stroked me into false pleasure once more. His little touches, his kisses, everything...was such a lie. And yet, my heart was beginning to beat faster, my body in rebellion of my mind. I growled and tried to struggle, to resist, perhaps break his hold or maybe just distract him. He pushed into me then, and I screamed in frustration. I was more than a little angry to discover his entry was smooth due to the aforementioned wetness. I think the only reason it did not enrage me completely was because it was hard to remain focused on my anger when he was so distracting. His cock entered me completely and I could feel it throbbing inside. This was no warm feeling, either; he was cold. His lips, his hands, that slimy tentacle and yes, even his member, all cold. It wasn't surprising. He was the Master of Cold Nights, of Ice and a few other things. He would not be warm or soft, in any respect of either word. I could feel my hair brushing across my shoulders as he began to thrust a little faster, grunting softly in my ear. His hands tightened around my hips as his force doubled, finally giving me the rage I'd wanted, but at the wrong time. I moaned, partially due to what he was doing and partially because my body played false against me. His knees pushed mine further apart to wedge himself ever deeper. My clothes, meanwhile, were being unlaced and I felt the bodice fall away, the fabric tear and my pure flesh was bared to his filth. "Is this...what you'll...do?" I was trying to hide the sounds of zest in my voice, but he heard it anyway, the shameful thrill of the secret allure he was able to tempt my body into. [What, darling?] He asked tenderly. "Going...to...breed..." I choked out the words. He threw his head back and laughed. [You can't feel it?] He whispered, and those words drained the flush of my cheeks. "Feel...?" But his hands covered my mouth, his other hand moved to cover my clit and stroke its smooth wetness. The tentacle parted for him and wriggled down, until it could wrap itself around the base of his shaft. The tip of it wedged itself in, pain flashing as it stretched me past what I was used to, but horrifically, it fit. His cock and the tentacle both rode me together for a moment, an eternity, then the tentacle retreated. He slipped his fingers into my mouth, letting me bite at his fingers (uselessly, of course). I realized what he wanted at that point. I'm not proud to say I licked at them, lapped at them like an obedient dog, sucked at them as he wished. I moaned and my butt wriggled and he laughed as I suckled his fingers and he rut against me even harder. He was achieving his victory. The tentacle returned. When his member retreated, the tentacle thrust in, its slick muck covering me on the inside, making it even easier for him to force his entire length into me. It stroked me into an all new high, or should I say an all-time low? My wetness clenched around him as he thrust and rocked against me, his member pulsating. I felt it in me, his seed pouring unfettered. I thought about crying, but we both knew I couldn't cry. I have never been able to shed a tear. It might be the magic I have Sealed within me, or perhaps my lineage, but I do not cry. I could not even panic. I felt...terrifyingly blank. I don't think my heartbreak had caught up with me yet. He let me go and for a second I remained on my knees, still impaled on his shaft, then I simply fell forward, like a ragdoll might, upon the bed. I felt more of his seed drip on my backside and the slime he'd covered me with was soaking into the bedsheets, but I didn't care. [You are not bred by me, my little love. Your own beloved wins not only your heart, but the whims of your body.] He said, and almost sounded envious. His hands skimmed over my backside again and I felt his fingers dip into me again. What was he doing?! He rolled me over and I felt him spreading me. I was still wearing the blindfold and as I reached up to take it off, the talons came back and held my wrists down on the bed. Now, I was enraged. Hadn't he tortured me enough? He had not, apparently. As his fingers violated me, I felt his tongue. It circled my clit, then flattened and lapped at my sensitive area completely. My hips bucked as new sensations rushed through me. I was panting, moaning, thrashing. He didn't care. He continued to fuck me with his fingers and lick at the sopping wet trembling nerve endings I had become. Once he had me shuddering yet again, he changed tactics. He sucked at it, gently, and licked at it, alternating until a screamed for mercy. I swore I wouldn't, and yet I was begging him to stop. He pulled his fingers and out used both hands to part me wide open, then assaulted the innermost part of me with his tongue. I know my body achieved what he wanted by then; my juices, mixed with his seed, soaked into the bedsheet under me and he lapped them all up while I shivered on the bed. His tongue left me, but his hands didn't. Why wouldn't he cease his relentless onslaught? He hadn't hurt me enough? Tentacles came at me then. They wrapped around my thighs, one of them wrapped around my throat, another snuck its way around my butt and pressed itself into the area his tongue had just been harassing. It slunk into my inner folds and squirmed around; it took me a moment to realize it was soaking itself in those fluids. Revulsion struck me and it wormed its way out again, only to curl around my clit. It spread the mixture around, seemingly delighting in it. I felt his fingers once more, but instead of lingering there, he seemed to stroke me softly and then pull them out. Before I could think of what was happening, he shoved his fingers into my mouth and I could taste us, mixed together. He held his fingers near my tongue, preventing me from spitting at him, and I felt the vile concoction drip thickly down my throat. His cock was there again, and he forced his way again into me. His other hand pawed at my breasts, repeated his actions; first he dipped his fingers into the area where our bodies joined, then he applied the fluid to my breasts, tenderly covering each areola. Once he was done, he cupped one breast and applied his tongue to the other, sucking greedily. His breathing was harsh with excitement, the thrill of it, and he took his hand from my mouth. [Do you want my lips?] He asked. I shook my head desperately. He laughed. [I will make you beg, then.] He promised me, and I let out a mewling sound. He pulled out of me and I felt the bed shift. His fingers probed at my labia. He spread me open yet and again and his tongue, except...different... It wasn't until his cock pressed down on my lips that I could think of why. I struggled but he cared nothing for my objections. Another tentacle tugged my teeth apart the slightest bit, and his cock was pushed into me. My screams were muffled as he thrust far down my throat, and I thought I might choke on it. At the same time he was using his tongue on my clit with a cruelty, yet another tentacle inserted itself and took all liberty away from me. How could he stand it? What was he even doing to me? His hips took on a rhythm I recognize. I screamed, as much I could, my condemnation, but he surged forward anyway, and the position I was in, it was either swallow or choke. I was not brave enough to choke, so down into my stomach it went, and my insides curled with not only pain, but sorrow. He kept going. Slickened by his own fluids, his cock slid in and out easily, and he did not stop until not only was it hard and throbbing yet again, but I had also attained compulsory release. His cock was pulled out and I coughed, retched, thinking to rid myself of the stuff. It was not to be. His manhood pressed at my clit, and he rubbed the head of it back and forth, causing my muscles to tense, as if preparing to release yet again. He plunged into me and simply let himself pound into me with abandon, the tentacle at my clit ruthless in its attention, nearly to the point of pain. [Tell me you want it.] He crooned at me. I shook my head and he snarled. His patience was endless, his tolerance to my obvious aversion to him was not. His manhood swelled and his hands on my breasts tightened against the tender flesh. I let out a cry of pain and he licked at my nipples, then bit down. Not hard; just enough to create a strange...fluttering. "Tell...what...?" I managed to ask. [You love it when I fuck you.] He said. I moaned. [You want my cock. You want my cum, inside you, want to be soaked in it, covered in it. You want, my lips...] I noticed the hesitation. "I...want..." Gods, was I really doing this? No, I wasn't. "I want...you...to fuck me..." No. "Your cock feels so good...in me...your cum...I need it..." Gods, why? "Kiss...kiss..." I couldn't possibly say it. There was no way. I would not. I didn't have to. I felt him, tenderly at first, hesitantly. As if he weren't pillaging my very body, his lips brushed feather-light against mine, and then pressed down. His tongue caressed my lips and I willingly opened my mouth to let our tongue mingle together, a soft sob escaping me, and he growled against my lips. Not one of anger, but lust, and one palm cupped my cheek. He shuddered as he let go of himself within me again and then, he pulled away. Slowly, though, as if he were reluctant to break the contact our lips had achieved. It was finally...finally...over? He stayed like that, buried in me, for a while longer than he needed, then he withdrew. [Have I punished you enough?] He asked me, hands cupping the back of my head. I nodded. He chuckled and I felt dread enter my heart. No, he wasn't done. He had wanted me to feel hope, just so he could take it away from me again. He took hold of my ankles and lifted them. [Once more.] He promised. He didn't even bother with his fingers. Tentacles, two of them, entered me and again, they bathed in the seed that had spouted from him, then withdrew. They returned to my mouth, probing, forcing my jaw open and assailed me with their lengths, making it impossible to spit or cough the stuff back out. With one hand on my ankle and one on my thigh, he parted me. He drove into me wildly, not bothering with kindness, not trying to ease in. Another tentacle joined him again, combining as if to rip me apart. [You betrayed me.] He said. [You left me. You swore your body to me, and then gave it to another, and thought I would understand such a terrible decision. You are being punished, my love, and you knew that I would find a way to make you feel my pain in the end. Take it...take all of me...and tell me how abhorrent you find me.] I could not speak with these things in my mouth. Drool dripped down my chin. [Let me hear how you only feel revulsion.] He was mocking me. The tentacles pulled out of my mouth, saliva dripping onto my chest and stomach. "I..." What could I say? Despite his treatment of me, I had fond memories of him. I even had loved him, and I think I love him still. I had simply fallen in love with another. This did not satisfy him. He tossed me to the ground, the tentacles and talons disappearing, and I landed hard on my stomach. I couldn't see, that stupid blindfold, and the talons slammed down on my wrists before I could budge. The tentacles were back to and they wrenched my legs apart. His cock forced its way in and he continued in his defilement of me, his hands cupping my breasts, liquid poured across my thighs. I cringed to feel the stuff literally trickling against my flesh, soaking even into the carpet. His teeth bit down on my shoulder and I felt myself - what fresh horror - [You are simply drenching my cock, my love.] He sounded highly pleased. He let out a snarl, as if he was some beast and his violation of my body were his claim to me, and once I was filled with him, only then he let me fall to the rug. Baiting the Beast Ch. 03 True to his word, he used his hand and slathered his vile secretions on my buttocks and breasts, smearing it in long streaks over my back, simply fondling me all over in his eagerness to see me both degraded and contaminated after his rape. He kissed me tenderly on my temple and I didn't even bother to reach for the blindfold. I think he wanted me to, but I didn't. There was no point. He was not visible and he would only torment me more if I showed a sign I still had fight in me. I felt him withdrawal, his magic disappearing, and after a long while, I pulled the blindfold off. I was filthy with his, his smut and the slime and everything else. I wished I could cry in that moment, but despite everything, I did not. I simply sat on the floor, empty of anything for a while, and only when the sun was rising in the window did I think to stand, to make my way to the shower and clean myself. Not that I could reverse the stain on my soul; no, only my body could be washed, and even then, his marks lay on my skin, purple and yellow and shades somewhere in between. Would he come back? Would I run if he did? Or would I welcome him, as I used to do when he was my friend, reaching for the touch I knew would come, straining to hear his cold voice...