3 comments/ 5005 views/ 5 favorites Tormentor By: MrPezman Terry looked through one of the dirty windows of his apartment at a collecting storm that he hoped might wash him away, just so that he might finally have a little peace. On the secondhand night table next to his bed was a bottle of prescription sleeping pills he'd just gotten refilled, and a glass of orange juice. Condensation beaded on the outside of the glass, and was no doubt working on a nice water ring to add to the variety of other water rings he'd made over the past year. "Okay," he pled quietly, but desperately with a God that he wasn't sure existed, but couldn't completely discount, "Just one night of sleep without a nightmare, please? One night without waking up with my pillow jammed in my mouth to keep from screaming? Haven't I earned it, just this once in all my twenty years?" Receiving no answer, never had, of course, he sat on the edge of his bed, dreading sleep, as he had since he was six and started having disjointed, disorienting, terrifying nightmares. There was no fathomable reason for them, as he was not the product of a broken home, not abused, molested, or subjected to the things that screwed up so many other kids his age. His parents were okay, hard-working, and he was an only child. He scooted back onto the bed, leaning on one side and grabbing the bottle of sleeping pills. He opened it and fished two out, dropping the little, blue capsules onto his tongue, and then downing them with a few swallows of orange juice. He set the open bottle and the glass of juice back on the nightstand and lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. One pill each night was all he was supposed to take, but one did nothing to keep the nightmares at bay. Maybe two would. Or maybe the whole bottle could do what nothing else seemed to be able to. His parents, frightened for him, had taken him to be evaluated by a psychiatrist when he was eight, and the nightmares didn't seem to be going away. The man had asked him a lot of questions he didn't quite know the answers to, and had, with his parents' permission, put him under with hypnosis. He'd screamed so loudly that he would lose his voice for almost a week after, and the frightened psychiatrist had brought him out of it quickly. Every nightmare, as far as he could remember, had one central character in it, one alluring, tantalizing, yet terrifying creature. It had no eyes, no eye sockets even, just smooth skin between the forehead and the bridge of the nose. It was tall, about six and a half feet, the shape of the most beautiful woman that he could ever imagine otherwise. It had teeth like a shark, but seemed to have no speech impediment because of it. Its hair was almost platinum, glossy and luxurious. Around him and this creature, fires raged unchecked, buildings all black and melted, the ground charred, torn, broken bodies heaped in piles around him, blood dripping and running and cascading into the earth, screams fixed on the faces of every corpse, all eyes plucked out and fashioned into some bizarre necklace that the thing wore on its naked breasts. The eyes gazed on, somehow still alive and seeing, all looking at him, and he understood that, in some strange way, the eyes were how she could see the world. She stood before him, completely nude, except that she was bathed in blood that never seemed to dry. The nightmare changed constantly, ever shifting, yet she didn't. His eyes grew heavy as the medicine began to take effect, and he shuddered in dread, because he somehow knew that he wouldn't be spared this night either. Still, even as he still fought against it, he fell asleep. He smelled it before he could see it, the reek of death and decomposition, blood and despair. Then he could see. He lay on the floor of an office building. Ashes swirled around him, as all the windows were melted until they had dripped down the walls beneath them, pooling on the floor. Charred lumps of metal littered the floor, unrecognizable as anything now. He got to his feet and walked out of the room, but then the shadows danced around him, and before he could take another step, he stood outside. The sky was the color of coagulated blood, boiling and flowing along sluggishly above him. And, ever present, was the creature. "Do you think," it spoke in a silky, alluring woman's voice, "that you can escape me with pills?" Terry couldn't speak, didn't dare. It grinned, its shark's teeth gleaming a radiant white, "You can never escape me, boy. You are my plaything, and nothing can take you from me until I am done with you." Terry backed away, but where was there to run. It was everywhere, could fly, could materialize out of nothing, rotted, corrupted, maggot-infested mind filled only with his torment. It moved closer, its arms extended to him, its nails long and razor-sharp, so filthy that they promised of disease and infection, "Come to me, boy. There is no resisting me, not by such as you." He shook his head, still unable to speak, his eyes averted from it. "Yet you persist," it chuckled darkly, a sound like vomit gurgling in the throat of a convulsing corpse, "How long have I hungered for you, boy? And yet you would continue to deny me, though I could take you whenever I wish. I could, but I prefer you come to me. You would taste so much more delicious." Terry turned and ran, fleeing from it as he had for years, only to be pursued relentlessly through the death-scape of broken, bloody bodies, empty eye sockets glaring at him as he passed. "This is the world that I have made," it crowed in perverse delight right behind him, "You should rejoice and be glad in it!" Terry ran in terror, as he had in every nightmare, knowing that doing so was futile. This time was no exception, as it appeared in front of him, and he scrambled back, gagging. "Do I not please you?" it cried with glee, "Do I not stir your loins in such lust? Does your blood not boil for my caress?" He continued to run, drawing in harsh, burning breaths, coughing out ash, and she was suddenly above him, horrible, skeletal wings extended, with crudely-sown flaps of human flesh fused to the bones. It rode the sky, laughing as he fell, scrambled back to his feet, and ran more, "You may run until your feet are but charred, bleeding nubs under your ankles, and you'll not escape me, boy! I can smell your soul, and I shall follow you to the ends of the earth, until you come to me!" Suddenly, the shadows raced, and he found himself climbing enormous mountains of dead, yet malevolent rats that bit at him and hissed, and he shuddered as his feet crunched over bones and scorched fur, amid the furious squeals. And even then, suddenly exploding from the dead rats as if propelled from a cannon, there it was, its arms out and seeking him. "Your flesh calls to me, boy!" it hissed, "It begs for my caress, it pleads for my lips! Come to me, that I may possess it!" He climbed-scuttled-clambered over the mountain or living rat corpses, fell down the other side, all the way down to the bottom, dizzy, and then fell from his bed, thumping onto the floor, writhing, kicking, flailing himself awake. He pulled himself weakly to his feet, reeling, his heart pounding thunderously. He collapsed back onto the floor as his legs refused to bear his weight for the moment, and he huddled miserably on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest and shuddering, his breath heaving. As he looked into the gathering morning light, he saw something that he found tremendously ominous. In the corner, on the floor, was a rat corpse facing him. It glared at him with dead, glazed eyes, its teeth bared menacingly... but it was dead. It did none of those things, yet the sight of it offended him all the same. Once he had strength in his legs again, he disposed of the rat corpse in the garbage chute in the hallway outside his small apartment, using a small dustpan and whisk broom, as careful as possible to avoid touching the offensive thing. There was no way the rat corpse could've followed him out of his nightmare; this one had probably already been there already, and he had just missed it. He showered, scrubbing twice, washing the sour reek of fear-sweat away. As he dried off, he looked in the mirror, noticing the pallor of his skin, the circles under his eyes from the lack of restful sleep. Not much had changed from his childhood. His nightmares had been the sole focus of his life, and he had been unable to make friends. People regarded him as an oddity. He didn't fit in with society, so he existed outside of it, a pale, nervous wreck with long, dark hair, a leanly-muscled young man with no real future to think of. The trust fund left to him by his parents had gone into a savings account, and he basically lived off the interest, using just enough to get by, and he had little dealings with the outside world. There was Cliff, the man who owned this building, who collected the rent each month, the doctor who prescribed his medicine, and a delivery man from the grocery store who brought his groceries. Everything else he needed could be gotten without human contact. "Who would miss you if you just disappeared?" something hissed nearby, and he whirled, but he was alone. He knew that voice instantly, and was disconcerted by it. "No," Terry shook his head emphatically, "No, you can't be here." "How long would it be before your corpse was ever found? Until the rent was due? Maybe even longer?" the creature asked from nowhere, "One is truly alone when one does not even know if one's corpse will be found before it begins to fester." He looked around wildly as it spoke, but he couldn't even pinpoint the source of it. "I await you just as eagerly now as I did when you were but a child," it whispered in his ear. "Leave me alone," he begged quietly, "Just...leave me alone." "Why should you want that? I'm the only companion you could ever hope for, boy." "Why me?" The thing chortled thickly, "Because your soul cries out from your flesh, and it calls to me. It is a siren-song, and I could resist it no more than ancient sailors lured to their deaths by sirens upon rocky shores." "Oh God, please make it stop!" "God is a child among elders, boy! Your world is his anthill with which to smash at a whim. He couldn't have created you any more than a worm could create a bird, and he cannot help you." How could this be happening? Terry clutched at the sides of his head. Surely he must be completely crazy, otherwise how else could it be speaking to him now? He drank the lukewarm orange juice on his nightstand, loathe to waste it, swallowing it down in greedy gulps as fast as he could. He logged onto his computer, one of only a few luxuries he allowed himself, and he tried to lose himself in the world of the internet. "Now that I can speak to you in your waking hours," it spoke from behind him, "There is truly no escape for you. And now, behold, boy!" Terry whirled around in his seat, and cried out in terror. It now stood in his apartment, its arms crossed over its full breasts, grinning triumphantly. "I have come for you, boy," it whispered huskily, "For I am your only respite." It shimmered in the air as if it was only a mirage, but then there it was again. Its skin was no longer covered with blood and gore, shark teeth now human, it even had eyes, a deep, dark blue, sparkling with mirth and malevolence. It was still unclothed, just as breathtakingly beautiful as ever, and Terry averted his eyes as he had in his nightmares. "Come to me, boy. Come and I shall give you your prize." Terry shrank back, trembling like a rabbit only an instant before being trapped in the jaws of a fox. It strode across the floor, crouching before him, regarding him hungrily, a ravenous lust in its eyes, only inches from him now. It reached out one slender hand, no lethally sharp claws now, only well-manicured fingernails, and caressed his cheek. He whimpered, his eyes tightly shut. "Boy, why must you still resist me, the only one who desires you in this world or the next? Surely, you sting me with your denial! Give yourself to me." It touched his cheek, stroking the pale skin almost tenderly. Then its hand grabbed him by the throat and hauled him to his feet. "Your cowering resembles a lizard in the talons of a hawk, afraid, yet surrendering its life. It annoys me, boy." Somehow he managed to keep his feet as its hand now touched his chest. "Open your eyes, that you may look upon me." His eyes opened, regarding it with abject terror despite its human appearance. "Come and claim your prize, boy, this instant." His hand, still trembling, raised, seemingly on its own accord, and touched its smooth, flawless cheek. "Yes, boy," it cooed. His traitorous hand moved to its mouth, his fingers drawing lightly across its lush lips, which it puckered to kiss his fingertips. It moved close, and he could feel its heat, no hallucination, only flesh. It took his other hand and placed it on its breast. Its pink-lavender nipples were already stiff with its arousal, poking against his palm. He grasped its breast and kneaded it, feeling its firmness. His other hand, trailing down from its lips, moved down its taut stomach and to the moist, lubricious cleft below, dipped a finger into its delicious heat. It took him by the shoulders and pushed him to his knees, and then brought one of its long, beautiful legs up to rest on his shoulder. "Taste of what flows only for you," it urged, drawing his head close, and he obeyed, his tongue swiping over its lips, and then in between, thrusting as far as he could reach, the ambrosial fluid drenching his tongue instantly. "Yes, boy, taste it more!" it demanded. He licked furiously, following instincts he never knew he'd possessed, his hands grasping at its buttocks, squeezing them as it wailed with the pleasure of his attention. It seemed that the fluids that flowed from it would never let up, and his mouth glistened with it, but he could not get enough. It thrust its hips forward, grinding against his face as it neared release. "Booooooyyyyyyyyyyyyeeeeeee!!!!!!" it screamed, and then his mouth was flooded with its sweetness, forcing him to swallow it, more and more, even as much of it flowed from his mouth and coated his chest. It suddenly pushed him away, stumbling slightly before regaining its composure. "You show such promise, boy," it gasped, pulling him to his feet. It thrust its tongue, pink and long, into his mouth, kissing him deeply for a moment, and then lapping its own spend from his chin and chest. It reached down and tugged slightly on his erection, which was throbbing and oozing pre-cum from its tip. With his erection in its hand, it guided him to his bed, pushed him down upon it, and climbed atop him. His fear, still acute, was injected with a lust he'd never known, and he was repulsed even as he was aroused, as the creature straddled his hips and began grinding itself across his length, pressing it against his pelvis with its still dripping pussy. "This has been such a long time in coming," its voice was ragged with desire, "But now, at last, you may claim your prize, boy!" It grasped his erection, positioned itself, and then drove him deep inside her with a demanding thrust. He cried out, mingling desire and misery, as it began grinding itself on him, forcing him as deep as he could reach in it. "Yes, boy!" it impaled itself on him, and started bouncing furiously, fucking him relentlessly, its hands braced on his chest, its eyes open and boring into his own. He marveled at how tightly it gripped him, pulsating, seeming to suck at him, and he knew there was no way he'd last very long, definitely not as long as it would no doubt require of him. Even as his mind raged against this insanity, at this abomination of a love-act, his body betrayed him completely, thrusting his hips up even as it came down, seeking to push more of himself inside it, fueled by its moans, and wails, and cries. He could feel his orgasm swiftly approaching, and then it was there, enveloping him, crashing over him, consuming him whole. It laughed gleefully as his cum splashed inside it, coating it liberally. He gasped, his body trembling, but it showed no signs of slowing. Instead, it pulled him atop it, its thighs spread, and he found that, despite such an intense orgasm, he was as hard as ever. He drove himself back inside, and its legs wrapped around his hips, its hands on his back. "I desire more!" it commanded, "More of your delicious seed!" Terry plunged helplessly inside it, over and over, so deep into its heat that he was sure that this would hurt any mortal woman, but it only seemed to want more. It cried out with pleasure, and urged him on, and suddenly he growled as he released more of his spunk inside it, and grunted as he didn't stop, wasn't growing flaccid in the least. The pleasure was too much, he had become over-sensitive, enough so that it hurt more than it felt good, but even that wasn't stopping him, he was only plunging and grinding, using it as much as it was using him. After another climax shook through him, it pushed him back, grabbed his dripping, still-throbbing manhood, and positioned it against its puckered sphincter. "Your cock is plenty wet enough, boy, take it now," she gasped. He did as he was told, pushing against it, feeling as it reluctantly yielded to him, and the head disappeared inside its anus. It howled as Terry continuously entered it, and its sphincter began to relax. Soon, he was thrusting himself into it as he had been with its pussy. It rested its legs on his chest, its calves on his shoulders, and it made no move to stop him. As he looked down at what he was doing, he could see its anus stretching to accommodate him, swallowing up his entire length. He could feel himself inside, thrusting deep, and it was so tight that, despite the lubrication of his and its comingled cum, there was still friction. Still, even as tight as it was, he rocketed to orgasm, shooting his cum into it. Finally, he fell onto his side, and it allowed him to. Both panting, sweaty, lying on their mingled fluids, he felt corrupted, filthy, and he found that he no longer seemed to care. Obviously, this must be what it had wanted, for it grinned even as it panted. "No more, or your body will not recuperate. I want more, but you will rest first. I will come to you again when you are ready." It climbed to its feet and stood above him, stretching languidly in the afternoon sun. "For a boy, you know how to give so much pleasure! Such as you I've never known. Now rest, and I will return." Terry closed his eyes, unable to move from his side, his erection finally subsiding as he slipped quickly into sleep. Amazingly, for the first time in so long, there were no nightmares, no tortured, twisted, hellish landscapes, no flight of terror in vain from that horrible creature, just peace, silence, the sleep he'd been desperate for after so long. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Over the next week, Terry dragged through each day, jumping at the slightest sound, expecting that the creature would be the source of each sound. When the grocery deliveryman knocked on his door, he let out a half-scream, and, when he opened the door, the man started at Terry's appearance, but didn't mention it, just taking his money and deciding that it was none of his business. Despite the whole week of relaxing, peaceful sleep without even a glimpse of a nightmare, he was terrified that the creature which had been haunting his nightmares since he'd been six would make good on her promise to come back. It was just a matter of time. Even worse, mixed in with his dread and terror was a measure of lust for it that caused frequent erections that were almost painful in their urgency for satisfaction. His thoughts constantly ended up on it, its beautiful, full-breasted, alluring body, no matter how many times he tried to think of other things. Tormentor He heated up a microwavable meal, ate it without really tasting it, and threw away the tray and the box it had come in. He poured a glass of ginger ale, dropped in a few ice cubes, and took a drink. He almost dropped the glass as he realized that, minus the carbonation, it tasted just like the creature's juices as they had flowed into his open mouth. He shook, forced to set the glass down lest he break it and make a mess. He forced himself into a semblance of control and then poured the ginger ale out in the sink. He rinsed off the glass and refilled it with orange juice. He swore that he'd never touch ginger ale again. After draining the glass, he refilled it again and set it next to the sink. Ever since that night, he had taken at least three showers a day, even though he knew that the part of him that felt dirty could never be cleaned in this manner. As he got out of the shower and toweled off, he drank the orange juice, wishing he could precede the next glass with the remainder of his sleeping pills and end this torment. What could he possibly have done to have attracted her attention? He had only been six, hardly even old enough to know that some things were right, while others were wrong. It had been right to eat all his vegetables, wrong to tie a can to his dog's tail and laugh with glee as the dog took off through the house, scared by the continuous clattering of the can tied to his tail. "Anything you do that could hurt someone else, or something else, like your dog, is wrong," his father had explained to him after that incident. "I didn't hurt him," he had looked up at his father, "I just gave him a scare." "Son," his father sighed, "Things that you do for entertainment at the expense of others doesn't make it right, even if nobody is hurt. You wouldn't like it if someone tied something to you and laughed at you as you ran around, scared by it, would you?" "No, daddy," he had cried, "I'm sorry." But, if he hadn't done anything that would catch this thing's attention, then why was it so fixated on him as to torture him with nightmares for the past fourteen years? "I sensed something, an exquisite soul," it answered his unspoken question, and he whirled to find it on his bed, reclining, ever nude, "And it called to me, beckoned me." He resisted the urge that had come over him to go to it and take it, "W-what makes my soul so special that you had to haunt me all my life?" It grinned haughtily, its teeth straight and white, "Simple, boy, I must possess it. But a soul by itself is not enough, so I must possess you as well." Terry stood where he was, near the head of his bed, "What does that mean? D-do you mean to k-kill me?" "Kill you?" it blinked, "Why ever would I want to kill you, boy? Did I not say that a soul by itself is not enough? It must remain in you, otherwise it is only a soul, delicious, but unable to sustain me as long." "Then what do you want with me?" It stretched lazily, and then was suddenly off the bed in a flash, now standing before him, its hands on his chest, "As I have said, I must possess you. You must be mine. No more resisting, no more denying me, because, though I could possess you by force, you would still resist me, and your soul wouldn't quench my thirst. Have I not released you from your nightmares?" Terry trembled as its fingers traced circles on his chest, and it took everything he had to resist his tremendous urge to have it, to take it right there. "I-I have more questions, please..." he blurted. "Then ask them, boy, for my body is on fire for you, and my patience for questions wears thin." He looked down at it, and then asked, "Is this your true form, or do you look like you do in my nightmares?" It sighed, "I have no true physical form, only what I wish to be." "Then why did you look the way you did in my nightmares? You might've had me a lot sooner if you'd taken a more pleasing form back then." "I am a daemon, boy! I am an ancient, formed even before this world was much more than a lump of matter. I have existed for an eternity, taking what I need, seducing the weak, but none I possessed have contained nearly as much of a soul as your kind. Even the strongest of your kind have only served to sustain me until the next, and even the strongest of your kind have not the soul that you do." Terry attempted to understand what it had revealed to him, and then replied tremulously, "You didn't really answer my question." It growled with frustration, "Others of your kind before you actually responded more to me when I looked the way I do in your nightmares. They were easy to possess, and their fear made them much more delicious, even as their lust controlled them. Your fear makes you shine brighter, but not as much as when you fear, yet resist surrendering your life. I could've continued your nightmares for another ten years, but you were sure to lose your mind long before then, and I could not have that." "That's why you came here into my world?" he found his hands wandering over her breasts, touching, feeling. "Ahh, yes, boy," it licked its full lips with anticipation, "Rather than risk you drowning the spark of your soul, which you intended to do once you were fully in the grip of hopelessness, of despair... ahhh... with those pills... I decided to dispense with your cultivation and... well, here we are." Terry pressed his lips to its, their bodies pressing together, the proof of his desire now trapped between them, and then he asked, "Is this what will sustain you?" It moaned, grinding itself against him, "Yes, given of your own free will, you will sustain me for much longer than any before you." "And then what?" he said between kisses delivered to her throat, "One day I'll grow too old to give you what you need." It chuckled, baring its throat for Terry, its fingers stroking through his hair, "A bit of what you give to me will return to you, because of how bright and powerful your soul is. You will live longer, and continue to give yourself to me. Now, enough with the questions, boy! Can you not see the effect you have on me?" It grabbed him and flung him onto the bed, and was on him, kissing and licking his chest, his neck, his mouth. His hands roamed its body, in awe of how exquisite its skin felt, how soft, yet firm. It moved down his body, and within a minute, his cock was fully enveloped in the wet furnace of its mouth, its tongue teasing him excitedly. It knew every little spot to touch to drive him wild, and it exploited this knowledge, its eyes on his own the whole time, not to gauge his reactions, as it knew his reactions before he did, but simply to watch, to enjoy the pleasures it was giving him. When he felt himself poised so close to that edge, about to be completely crushed by the intensity of his climax, it knew, and pushed him past it. He groaned, twisting handfuls of sheet, thrusting his hips as it swallowed him, more and more, but never enough. He pulled it up atop him, felt it grab him and stuff him inside it, rocking on him, its lips and tongue tugging at the skin on his neck. It was keeping a hectic pace, not content with slow and relaxed, it ground against him feverishly. He grasped its ripe, full buttocks in his hands, pulling it harder and faster on him, the slapping of flesh on flesh fueling his need for more. It suddenly jumped up and off the bed, leaning forward against the wall, thrusting its buttocks out behind it, and he got the hint, standing behind it, and thrusting himself back inside forcefully, ramming himself forward, his hands on its hips, yanking it back even as he drove forward. It looked over its shoulder at him, urging him on breathily, demanding more, "Give it to me!" Finding himself on the precipice in only minutes, knowing that it wouldn't let him grow flaccid just yet, he readily pumped his stuff deep into it, sloshing it around with each thrust, and then withdrew. It reached back behind it and spread the cheeks of its buttocks, and he didn't wait for it to say a word. He pushed himself into its anus, which yielded to his invasion just as reluctantly as the first time. He thrust with all the force he had while in its cunt, and though it cried out, he didn't relent, nor did it ask him to, instead commanding him to rip it up, to tear it to shreds. He pounded himself into its anus obligingly. It was insatiable, always seeming to want more, and he strove to meet its desire with his own, but found that he, having his limits while it seemed not to have any, began growing tired, sore. He held himself deep inside its anus, his cum shooting deep, trembling, his knees weak. He pulled himself from within it, and fell to the floor, gasping, his softening tool painfully sore. "That gets better each time," it pushed itself away from the wall, its own juices coating its thighs, "Now, lick me clean of this mess." He knelt before it and began licking, only tasting her, not himself. In fact, if he remembered correctly, never had one single glob of his spend ever came out, as if it had absorbed it completely. He licked it clean, and then, began licking at its cunt, sucking on its clitoris, thrusting two fingers inside it. It humped his face, grinding its cunt against his mouth, crying out, growling, whimpering, laughing, and he was drenched with its cum. It dripped from his chin, onto his chest, and it licked him clean, slowly lapping at his chest, drawing its long tongue up his neck and chin. "How are you able to make me stay so hard for so long?" Terry could hardly move without twinges of pain, and his flaccid dick was too sore to even clean. It laughed throatily, watching him struggle to his feet, "You credit me with that feat? Men stronger than you have done far less to sate my lust than you. Your endurance is your doing, not mine, boy." "But that's... it's not possible..." "Funny how you should say that. One would think that, witnessing my presence, the possibilities extend further than your tiny mind could fathom." "Sorry," Terry muttered, "Sometimes my tiny mind forgets that." It leapt to its feet in a flash, startling him so bad that he fell down, and it stood above him, glaring at him, "You may have talent and potential, boy, but forget not your place!" It glared at him for another few seconds, and then its gaze softened, and it pulled him to his feet, touching his face almost tenderly. "You seem to forget who it is you deal with," it pushed him to the bed, making him sit, "Eternity is a long time to live, and you can hardly fault me in my way of thinking. To a being such as I, your mind is indeed small, and you would do well to remember it." He sighed, adjusting himself carefully, "Then my place is where? Am I nothing but a slave now, only a tool to service your needs?" It chuckled, crawling up on the bed behind him and leaning forward against his back so that its ample breasts pressed against his back, its arms curling around him, "Slave? Why no, boy, what you are is much more useful than a mere slave. You are a source, a wellspring, and you sustain me... quite well, I must say! Do you not understand that I need you? You are yourself not a tool," she touched the tip of his dick, "That is the tool. You are the bearer of that tool, and each time you spend your seed inside me, you use that tool to sustain me." "Then what is my place, if you say I shouldn't forget it?" "Your place is at my side... or above me, or underneath me," it giggled, licking his ear, "Depending on which position you take... I do not ask that you worship me, no more than you would worship any mortal woman whose fancy you gain, yet I will have your respect. It will not do to have you speak to me with such impertinence." Terry could feel his dick beginning to harden, and he winced at the ache, "I've been talked down to most of my life, and it's sort of a peev of mine." It rested its head on his shoulder, "So you'd wish to be spoken to as an equal, is that it?" "I know I'm no equal," he sighed, "I'm not asking that, just that you'd cut it out with the 'tiny-mind,' and the 'boy' talk. My name is Terry... and I don't know your name." "No mortal may know my true name, bo-... Terry... but you may choose a name with which to address me, if it pleases you." Terry thought about it, and then announced, "I'll call you Celeste, then. Is that okay?" "What is the significance of this name?" "When I was young, there was a girl named Celeste in my school that I liked. I never told her... I couldn't, I guess, most of the other kids already thought I was a freak, and she probably did, too." "Celeste... I could grow used to that name. Fine, you may call me Celeste." Celeste eased up off of him and reclined on the bed behind him, and he felt drowsy. "You could perhaps take some rest, Terry. You have given much of yourself to me, and you must recover." "So..." he asked, "If this isn't your true form, and the way you are in my nightmares isn't either, then what is?" "You have much curiosity," it replied, "May you not be content with the form I inhabit for your pleasure? I had thought that this form would be pleasing for you, after all. Do you wish me to alter it more to your liking?" "Y-you don't have to do that. Your form is beautiful. I was just wondering, really, considering that you're a daemon, is your true form a female form, or sexless?" "Gender plays no part in my true form, which, were you to see it, it would be far more than your mind could take. I'd wish you not to see it." Terry nodded, his curiosity shriveling up at the thought. Some things were better off unknown. Celeste rolled over onto its stomach, its round, voluptuous butt revealed. "Do you still fear me, Terry?" it asked mildly, "Or is it because of my true nature that you are filled with nearly as much revulsion of me as lust?" Terry blinked, trying to consider his answer, hoping not to offend her or invoke her anger, "I spent such a long time seeing you as the cause of my nightmares that I can't shed that image very easily. There's that, and the fact that you are a daemon, and you're simply using me to keep yourself alive for longer." She pouted playfully, "Oh, so cruel! So then you believe me to only be a corrupter or purity, perhaps, my only task in my life to turn the righteous toward the darkness? You forget that I have existed longer than the god whose name you used before. I am not light, or darkness, yet am both. Yes, I serve my own whims, but it's not as if my wants and needs serve only the dark! I may be using you to sustain my own life, but there are less... pleasurable ways to use you. I simply chose the one that might be more favorable to you, as well as myself." "So you're more aligned with chaos?" "If you must categorize it," she waved it off, "Then let it be so. But even chaos can contain order, if one searches for it." Terry shook his head, about to ask what less pleasurable ways Celeste might have used to gain the sustenance it needed, and thought better of it, instead asking, "Still, after being terrified of sleep for so long because of the form you took, it's almost as if I can see that form under the one you use now." "There is nothing I can do about that. Even a daemon cannot turn back the tide of time, you know. Now get your rest, and perhaps you might try a little physical fitness. There are parts of your body that cannot keep up with the part I enjoy so much." Terry lay down, and then, as he glanced over, he saw that Celeste had vanished, the place on his bed where she'd lain was still indented from her body, but, as he watched, the indent disappeared as well. Terry slept, and, to his dismay, he found himself in that demolished, fiery, corrupt place that he knew so well. The only thing missing now was Celeste, in that truly horrible form, covered in blood that never dried, her necklace of living eyes around its neck to make up for the lack of eyes in its head, the shark's teeth as it grinned at him. "You'd be surprised how many men once found this type of landscape almost an aphrodisiac of sorts," Celeste spoke from beside him, surveying the landscape, "Several wished to fuck me upon the piles of corpses." "That's disgusting," Terry paled, and then asked, "Why did you bring me here this time?" "In your dreams, or nightmares, your mind is stronger," it explained, "I can make all of this, but, if not for the strength of your mind, it would not look so real, so... life-like, so to speak. You don't seem to fear it like you once did." "The worst part of my nightmares was always the form you took in them. I feared you more than this place." It nodded, "Yes, that makes sense. Perhaps I could regain that form, for old time's sake?" "Please don't," his eyes widened, and he took a step back. Celeste laughed, "Another time, then? No? The fear does make you taste better, though." "I wish you wouldn't put it like that." It didn't take the form from his nightmares, but walked along the corpse-choked street, the asphalt covered in cracks, but also quite uneven, maybe from whatever atrocities had happened. He walked alongside it as it strolled along, looking at everything without much emotion. "I really don't like this place," Terry frowned, "Could you maybe do something about it, make it look... better?" Before she could answer, a wave of darkness flew across his vision, and when he looked again, the city stood, the sky gray with approaching storms, but the streets were empty, the cars without drivers or passengers, everything abandoned. Still, the scene around him was still about a thousand times better than what it had been. "Thank you," he said gratefully, "That's much better." "Why thank me? I did absolutely nothing. As I told you, your mind is stronger here." "Then why couldn't I make it change before?" "You were not trying to make it change, you were trying to make me go away, and that you could not do. Of course, it seems so dreary now, so boring." "Boring is better than that other place," he replied, "So why are you in my dream again?" "I was bored. I cannot make time go any faster than it does, much as I cannot turn it back." "You don't have some other guy whose soul is special?" "No," it sighed, "Before you, it had been over three thousand years since the last human who possessed such a bright soul. He was an odd sort. He lived for almost seven hundred years, sustaining me all the way up until his death." Terry stopped, asking, "I'm gonna live for seven hundred years?" "Don't be silly," Celeste grinned, "Humans nowadays live only a fraction as long as they did in those days. Perhaps you will remain for around two hundred years, perhaps a bit longer than that. Time will tell." He tried to imagine living to be over two hundred years old, but couldn't. What would the world even be like in two hundred years? "And then what?" he asked. "And then I'll have to wait for another with a soul like yours." "It must be lonely waiting." "I am not the only daemon around," it revealed, "There are dozens, each of them so radically different, each one drawing from different life forces to survive. This is the way of the daemon. And it's time for you to wake. Someone waits at your door." Terry struggled into wakefulness, and, after a brief struggle to untangle himself from his sheets, dressed and stumbled to the front door, his whole body a mass of soreness. He opened just as Cliff was about to knock. "Terry?" Cliff looked shocked, "Jesus, man, you look like hell. Still having those nightmares?" "Yeah," Terry scratched his head, his hair in complete disarray. "Man, I don't know how you handle it," Cliff, who was in his late fifties, his hair gray and balding at the crown, and had sixteen grandkids, tucked his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Tormentor "They're not as bad as they used to be. So what brings you around here?" "Oh, yeah... listen, you don't have anyone living in there with you, do you?" "In here? No, why?" Cliff shrugged, "One of your neighbors heard some noises that seemed out of the ordinary, so I said I'd check it out. I mean, I thought you said you didn't have any family or anything." "I don't, none that know me, anyway. I mean, I did have a friend over the other day," Terry lied, "A girl I knew from school. We were catching up, but nothing unusual." "Well, we all get visitors now and again," Cliff replied. 'Nothing like the visitor I get,' Terry thought, and then said, "Sure, even I do on occasion. Don't worry, though. She lives nearby, so she doesn't even stay the night here. I know the rules on extended guests." "That's good, then. Okay, well then, have a good one. I'll be around in ten days to collect rent, okay?" "Sure thing, Cliff. See you then." He closed the door, locked it, and then shook his head, amazed. Apparently, the fact that neighbors could hear him and Celeste having sex lent evidence to the effect that maybe Terry wasn't crazy or hallucinating this whole thing. "Already lying about me, I see," Celeste said from behind him, startling him. "N-not exactly lying... just stretching the truth. Apparently, we've been making too much noise... I don't think I can... perform as you might want right at this moment. I'm too damn sore, still." "Oh, I'll just have to do without for now, then, shan't I?" it touched his chest, "There is plenty of time for that when you are well again. Does that mean I cannot enjoy the pleasure of your company?" Terry stumbled to his bathroom to relieve himself, even that task painful with all his aches and pains, let alone aiming the stream. He got a bottle of aspirin from his medicine cabinet and extracted two from the bottle. "How long has it been since you last left this place?" it asked. "I had to go to the doctor to get sleeping pills about a month ago, but now he visits when I call." he answered, washing the pills down with a swig of orange juice, "But otherwise, I try to limit my contact with people as much as possible." "And you spoke of loneliness to me?" "Apparently I appear... unbalanced to people. Kids in school used to call me a freak, because I always looked pale, sick. After a while of being made fun of for it, I simply decided that not being around people like that seemed preferable to trying to fit in." "So you have need of a companion even more than I. It appears we both can gain something from our... union." "You make it sound like we're married," he noticed. "Would you rather I consider our arrangement a relationship?" "Whichever you'd prefer... it all comes down to the same thing, right? You use me to live, I use you to not be alone." It frowned, "Perhaps you believe that only humans are capable of affection, of companionship?" "Most humans I know aren't capable of either. Are you saying that daemons are?" Celeste looked out the window for a moment, and then shrugged, "I believe I have developed some affection for you. I enjoy your company, after all." It stared in the mirror, examining itself while he showered, turning the water as hot as he could stand to help relax his sore muscles. "Would you not prefer me to change my form to something more your desire?" it asked. Terry considered it for a moment, and then replied, "Like what?" "I can take the form of any woman you lust after." Terry washed, working up a good lather, "I think you're beautiful just the way you are. There's no need to change from that." "How sweet," it chuckled, and then got in the shower with him. "I have always been curious of your bathing habits," it admitted, "May I participate?" "Sure, if you'd like. Maybe you'd like me to wash you?" "Sounds like fun," it smiled. He squeezed some body wash into his hand and began lathering up its upper back and shoulders, feeling the powerful muscles underneath. He moved down to its lower back, and then detoured to its arms. "This does feel quite enjoyable," it sighed, submitting contentedly. It turned, and he began soaping up its breasts, feeling their full firmness, the nipples hardening under his touch. "And now you begin teasing me?" "I can stop, if you want," he offered. "And where would be the fun in that?" it smiled playfully. He continued with its breasts for another moment, and moved his hands down to its taut stomach, its sides, and then reached around to soap up its butt and the backs of its thighs. "There is an unusual sensuality to being bathed like this. It may be an increased sense of intimacy in which you are touching me. And I see that you share this opinion." He looked down and saw that he was fully erect. He knelt before it and began to work up a lather on its legs, and it rested a foot on his thigh as he tended each leg before getting to its cunt. It grinned and spread its thighs to allow him better access. It became momentarily disappointed when he stopped, and then he detached the shower wand from its retaining clip, changed the setting on it to massage, and directed the spray on its exposed cunt. Its eyes opened wide for a second as he did, and then slipped closed. It writhed, leaning back against the wall, its thighs spread, the massaging spray beating against it frantically. As Terry watched, fascinated, its hips began jerking forward, and it clutched his shoulder, crying out as it came, spasms wracking its body, and then it shook its head helplessly, making shooing motions with its trembling hand. He turned the shower wand to aim down, and it slid slowly down to the floor of the tub to recover for a moment. When it...she, he decided, it was a 'she' now... stood up, she crushed her body against his, kissed him deeply, quite excited, definitely enjoying the whole showering experience. Then she slipped to her knees and took his still-sore, but very aroused dick in her mouth. She slid her tongue all over the over-sensitive flesh, the heat of her mouth almost unbearable, and as he began thrusting himself deeper into her mouth, she grabbed his hips and encouraged him to thrust harder. As she took his entire length, her lips sealed tightly around him, she let go of his hips so that he could thrust at his leisure. With the furnace of her mouth, her playful tongue, and the way she gazed up at him, it wasn't long at all before he couldn't contain himself any longer. He grabbed her head, pulling it toward him as he thrust, and, with one last hard thrust, jets of his cum went straight down her throat. She sucked it greedily, massaging his testicles, wanting more, but he only had so much. Finally, she backed up, letting go of him, and he used the wall for support, as his legs were shaky and unsure. "I-I think I can go again, if you want to..." he offered, but she shook her head. "I'd really rather not break you," she stood, pressing herself against him, "We should show some restraint, perhaps once or twice at a time, and then give you rest. We have years, after all, many years ahead of us, and it would be a shame if you overextended yourself so soon." So, still enjoying the intimacy, they rinsed each other off, and he got out first, drying off quickly before grabbing another towel for her. He wrapped the towel around her as she stepped out, and as she dried herself off, he realized that he no longer felt filthy, corrupted by her touch... and that, yes, he thought of her now as 'her,' a woman, yes, still a daemon, but not a demon. If she was going to be with him as long as she said, it wouldn't do to think of her as 'it' anymore. He was still sore, though maybe not as sore as if she had wanted him inside her next in the shower. She tossed her towel over one of the chairs at the small table near the kitchenette, sat on the bed, her gloriously nude body fresh and clean, her deep-blue eyes on him as he plodded wearily to the bed. "Now rest," she instructed, "I shall leave you to dream as you will, and I will return once you are well-rested." "Okay, Celeste," he groaned as he rolled onto his side, falling asleep almost instantly, and she looked down at him for a moment, her eyes spying his soul, which burned brighter than ever. The last human she had spoken of hadn't even possessed a soul half as bright as Terry's, and she knew at once why. The last human, who had been bigger, better-muscled, but much tinier of mind, continued to think her a devil, sent to torment him, to fuck him until he died. His belief was that she had risen up from the bowels of some underworld, a lust-demon, to seduce and bed men until their hearts burst and they died, so that she could have their souls. It was true, she did that to lesser men with dimmer souls, but it was the special souls she sought. The dimmer ones only temporarily slaked her need. The man, who did indeed last for seven hundred years, tried to take his own life on several occasions and was bound for his trouble each time until he simply gave in, becoming a reluctant, brooding, resentful wretch of a man. Not to mention, but the man was horrible in bed as well, never good for more than a few minutes at most, and never ready so quickly as Terry was. And Terry had taken to it a mere few days, not only actively participating, and lasting much longer, but actually bringing her pleasure as well. And that shower! Never before had she had such an experience with a man like that, and she intended to have many showers with Terry in the future. She touched his brow, looked at him, and then stood up. She closed her eyes, her form altering, becoming something non-physical, ethereal, drifting down through the floor and away, through a small rend in reality, leaving it behind for the dimension in which she existed, to wait, what was a day or two in an eternity, though it passed no slower in her dimension than it did in Terry's. He slept; she could feel his soul, even here, could see all their souls, blinking out there from their dimension like little stars, and that big one, that was Terry's, it almost hurt to look directly at it. That one was hers... but he was hers, too. It was difficult to believe that he would continue to live for only a few hundred years. With a soul that special, he might last a good thousand years, each sip she took of his life force like using a straw to suck out all the water from the oceans of his world. Content, she waited. Soon enough, he would be ready for her once more. But waiting is always the hardest part. Torments and Orders Warnings – it contains a little bit of foul language and a couple of not so gentle ideas, but other than that, it's a nice masturbation story. * They were in their regular chat room, which emptied long after he started in on her. Everyone listening kept quiet and enjoyed how he tormented her. He teased her for hours, moaning in her ear, saying all those things he knew she loved, making her desire for him increase to a point she could barely handle. He didn't own her yet, not in the sense that she wore his collar, but she knew he had control. She could have left the chat room long before she got too frustrated, but she didn't. When he was done, he ordered her to go masturbate once and once only and then write him an email about her thoughts about what had happened. He laughed, and to her it was as evil sounding as she had ever heard in her life. Before she could respond, he said goodnight and then signed off. The next afternoon when he got online, he opened her email and read: Corr, Let me just say how much I fucking hate you Corr! What you did last night was mean mean mean! If you had been here...I would have slapped you....and done anything to get you to stop that kind of torture. You see....I can take pain, even when it's so hard that I cry and beg for it to stop, but to be tormented in that pleasurable way is excruciating. I am messed up...this I know. You were right about me liking it, but I also hated it. I can never stop that kind of thing, not even when I'm shaking from the torment, when my whole body is one big erogenous zone waiting to be touched. The only way I could have stopped you from doing it was to leave the voice chat, but I couldn't make myself do that, which you knew and counted on. You knew I wanted to give in to your request to come for all those in the voice chat, but I couldn't. I'm stubborn even when I don't want to be. Part of me thinks that aside from the stubbornness issue, I didn't because I'd be just another girl you've made do something online, and I hate that Corr. I hate being so weak to where I'd play for any man who said and/or did the things you've said and done to me, in the way you've said and done them. I hate it! I hate that I don't have self-control when it comes to hearing your voice and what you say to me. It pisses me off to no end that with just a small amount of time, you could affect me that much to want to play for you. And although you didn't hear me, I did play for you last night. After getting ready for bed and getting some necessary play items, I played. I laid down on a folded towel on my bed, with thoughts of you tormenting me running through my head. My legs parted, and my right hand was resting on my thigh, slowly caressing it. I knew that if I touched my clit right then, it would be over. I had to wait. Time passed, and I thought about the pain you would inflict upon me. That thought excited me, but at the same time, it let my body refocus on that instead of coming. I reached over on my nightstand and grabbed two white, plastic clothespins (which is the only kind of clothespins I currently have). I took one and placed it over my left nipple...just holding it there. I winced and bit my lip as I let it go. Then, I did the same thing with the other. I moaned slightly behind closed lips. As I lay there, I thought about you watching me and talking to me. I could hear you say, "Play with them. Twist them." And I did. Both hands flicked and twisted them. I moaned and arched my back. They hurt. My nipples are so sensitive all the time so when I'm extremely aroused, as I was last night, the smallest amount of pain is hard to handle. But I did handle it. My breathing became a little ragged. Then, I caressed my breasts, traced around them, and kneaded them. My eyes closed, partly from the effect my ministrations were causing and partly to picture you sitting next to me, watching me. I reached over to my nightstand and grabbed an ice cube from my water glass. I leaned back and traced it around my lips, every now and then licking and sucking it into my mouth. I pictured you watching me, watching it slip into my mouth, watching my lips suck it in. I could hear you moan then, which only excited me more. My eyes closed as I moved the ice cube down my neck and across my collarbone. I shivered slightly as I slid it over the tops of my breasts. Leisurely, I traced it around each clothespined nipple. Beads of water trickled down the sides of my breasts, creating goose bumps all over my exposed flesh. After a while, I snaked it down my stomach to the top of my shaved mound. I was already really wet, and the water from the melting ice dripped down my pussy and mixed with my fluids on the towel. Then, I took another ice cube and slipped it between my pussy lips. I gasped as the cold shocked my warm center. I circled my clit while I moaned and shifted on the bed. When I pushed it inside of me, I squealed and pulled a pillow over my head to lesson the noise. The ice melted all too soon, and I thought about slipping in another one but decided against it. I began manipulating my clit with my fingers, stopping only to slip one or two into my drenched pussy. Each time I removed my fingers, I brought them to my lips and suckled them. I could see your eyes darken as you watched me then, and it spurred me on. I continued my teasing of my clit and added more pressure, and before I knew what was happening, I came. As my body quivered from the orgasm, I thought about your command to only cum once. My clit throbbed, and I was breathing hard like I had just run a race. But, as my body cooled and the pain in my nipples returned, I knew I was going to break your rule. I knew that I would probably hate it later, but in the moment, I couldn't control myself. So, I grabbed my vibrator, which is purple and white and has a little dolphin attached near the base of it to stimulate the clit. I leaned back and teased my pussy with it, sliding just the tip in and out. My eyes closed as I lost myself in the feeling. I moaned your name then as I pictured you above me, teasing my cunt with your cock. As my need heightened, I thrust it in hard, grunting, before I turned both the shaft and the dolphin on to the medium setting. My pussy, ass, and thighs vibrated. I left it there for a few minutes and enjoyed the vibrations in my pussy and on my clit. My cunt walls tightened around the vibrator, which caused more sensation to my g-spot. I grabbed the pillow again and moaned into it, relishing the feel of it inside me. I could hear you telling me what a bad girl I was being, and I closed my eyes tightly and whimpered. As I lay there with the vibrator deep inside me, teasing my clit and my g-spot, I played with the clothespins. I flicked them and twisted them so much I was sweating and breathing hard. My back arched, and if you had said something to me at that point, I would have cum. Had you been there, above me and with your hand around my throat as you moaned, I would have gushed. I would have lost it then. But, you weren't, and I held on for a few more minutes. I worked it in and out of my pussy hard, imagining you behind me with one hand pulling my hair and the other holding on to my hip, pulling me back on to you forcefully. You were taking me, and I loved it. I gasped as it slammed in and out of my cunt. It hit my cervix a few times, and I bit my lip trying not to yelp. As I fucked the vibrator hard, my breasts bounced, which only reminded me of my tortured nipples. And when I thought about you pinning me to the bed with one hand around my throat and the other completely in my pussy, I came violently. I screamed into the pillow, arched my back up off the bed, pulled off one clothespin then the other, shuddered uncontrollably, and collapsed back on the bed. I lay for a while quivering and trying to catch my breath before I put away the vibrator and threw the towel into a laundry basket. Then, I slept. I do fucking hate you for that Corr. If you were here, it would be the grudge, angry type of fucking. I would bite and claw you so much that no matter what position we would do it in, our sweat would make those wounds burn so much. I'd bite your neck, shoulder, nipples, etc, every time you thrust into me. With every thrust, you'd receive ten new claw marks across your back, arms, and ass. I'd spit cuss words at you like I was a drunken sailor. It would be intense, but it certainly would not be pretty Corr. I'll await whatever punishment you deal out. Truly yours, Meeee -------- As he finished reading the email, he grinned. He had expected her to come more than once and disobey him, but he had underestimated her potential for return torment. While he sat, rereading her email, he planned her punishment.