2 comments/ 6305 views/ 6 favorites A Deal with a Devil By: EtotheM Hello! This story is thoroughly SciFi/Fantasy, but I'd like to warn that it deals with themes of NonCon/Reluctance. *** Tamaryst Coval paced back and forth along the dark, dirty iron bars of her cell, agitation written heavily into her features. She was taller than most women and as tall as most men, and she carried a toned, muscular frame. At the moment claustrophobia and desperation wore at her demeanor, charging her restless gait, carving the concerned furrow between her brows, and prompting the agitated flicking of her eyes back and forth across the cell. The room was long and squat, composed of thick stones that were by and large covered by enough dirt, dried blood, and other sorts of matter that whatever color they used to be was impossible to discern. Columns of vertical iron bars stretched from wall to wall across the room, sectioning off about three quarters of the room into one massive cell while leaving a narrow hall-like section beyond, and it was on that wall that a thick wooden door had been placed. She was alone in the room - save for the cell's only other occupant, occupying the corner of the cell furthest from where she stood now, whom she was doing her best to ignore. She had been trapped for nearly a day, and was growing increasingly certain that if she stuck around for much longer she wasn't likely to see many more. I came dozens of leagues, she moodily thought, eyes narrowing, and finally reached this awful city, and I didn't even make it through the gates before something went wro- "What are you in here for?" Tamaryst froze, eyes snapping open, though she didn't spin to face the woman in the corner. Mentally, she recalled her discreet inspection earlier. Dirty brown robe, drawn up and hiding most of her face. Several inches shorter than herself, frame hidden by the cloak but probably on the frail side. Unnatural gray skin that looked ashen and sickly - probably one of the Rethi people, belonging to one of the many tribes strung out through the southern desert. Rethi were mysterious and disconcerting, but she couldn't remember hearing about them being dangerous warriors, and particularly not their women. Good. But still, this other woman was a criminal. Dangerous. "Well come on, then. If we don't begin talking you're going to wear a hole in the floor pacing back and forth," the stranger patiently said. And her voice was unbelievably pleasant, Tamaryst decided. It was a smooth, rounded contralto with an archaic sort of accent that gave the words a sense of authority despite the warm tone. She straightened up, spun around, and lifted her chin. "Murder," she claimed, warily padding closer to the woman in the corner. The word came out strained, obviously fraught with nerves, and she clamped her jaw down. She didn't need this other person knowing how unsettled she was. She halted a few feet away from the robed figure, for the first time noticing the slim dark markings upon the floor that surrounded that corner of the room, and took a closer look at her partner in conversation. Her features were partially shadowed by the hood, but it was clear she had dull golden eyes that verged a little nearer to orange than to brown. Of course, she thought dryly, if she has gray skin, why not golden eyes? She could also see traces of black hair, but it was hard to tell how long it was. It also looked a bit greasy, suggesting she'd been here for some time. "Why are you in here?" she asked in return. "I haven't done anything at all," the cloaked woman answered, sounding miffed. "And I'm in here because they're worried about what I will do. And frankly, I don't really like the idea of being in here any more than you seem to." Her lips curled up into an almost predatory grin as she continued, "I don't think you'll start liking your confinements any more as time goes on, either. There's only one thing they do to murderers around here, you know, and that's murder them back. They usually do that sort of thing around noon." Her head twisted slightly, considering the tall, recessed window in the wall opposite before finishing, "That gives you, what... Two hours?" Tamaryst blinked twice, rapidly, and swallowed. She had assumed that the local authorities would probably decide on executing her if she didn't escape, but hearing it out loud made her face that fact far more directly than she'd been doing earlier. Shit, she thought. How am I supposed to get out of this? It wasn't even my fault. She pulled back a step to resume her agitated pacing, but before she could fully move away the other woman's hand darted forward to take hold of her wrist. The woman's fingernails were long and painted black, and her grip was weak enough that it wasn't threatening; Tamaryst could break free easily. Cagily, tensing, she glanced up from her captured wrist to study the other woman's face. "I can get you out of here," came the other woman's promise. Tamaryst stared. "Oh yes," her cell-mate continued, "Easily, even." "Then why are you still in here?" The woman's grin deepened. "Because I've needed someone else to help," she replied. "I've needed you. As you can see, crime isn't very prevalent around here right now. And I think they've been keeping the few male criminals they've received somewhere else." Tamaryst's heart sank. She jerked back roughly to snap her wrist free from the other woman's hold, eyes dropping to re-evaluate the slim markings on the ground. What she had first thought the work of some bored prisoner awaiting his fate now seemed far too organized and intricate for such an explanation, and though she didn't recognize the patterns she figured the design was some form of barrier for the woman - no, demon - in front of her. When she looked back up the demon's grin was still just as wide as before, and there was an inquisitive light in its amber eyes. "I don't make deals with demons," She tersely informed it, pivoting away. "You haven't even heard my terms yet," came the faintly-amused reply, but she had already begin to stalk for the far part of the cell. Upon reaching it, she began to pace again. — An hour passed. No guards entered or even opened the solid door allowing entry into the room, and Tamaryst guessed that the lack of any observation or inspection was due to the demon's presence. She continued to pace, tried to keep from sending the occasional glance over to the other part of the cell, and thought. There were no imperfections to the cell - it was simple and sturdy. The guards would not treat her lightly when they came for her, and unarmed she didn't have a chance of fighting her way out of the building, much less out of the city. There was nowhere to hide, and no way to run. The only person for several leagues in any direction who had even the slightest inclination to help her wasn't even an actual person, and was staring at her with an unnerving sense of amusement as she paced. Wetting her lips with her tongue and sucking in a sharp breath, she pivoted about and marched back over to the demon. "What terms?" she asked shortly, warily eying it. It laughed at her brightly, and far too pleasantly for a demon, before reaching up to gently pull back the hood obscuring its face. Tamaryst's eyes widened - its features were all feminine sharpness and authority, and might have looked beautiful if it weren't for the hint of sallow coloration to its gray skin, and the gaunt thinness that made it look as though the demon were starving. A short, upturned, black horn with a narrow point protruded from either side of its forehead, and its dark hair was loosely tucked back behind its shoulders, unpooling as the hood was removed. "I thought you didn't deal with demons," it replied smugly. "Shut up," she snapped, fidgeting uneasily. "Just... What terms?" "Alright," the demon relented with a meager shrug, head bobbing aside and then back up in an indulgent gesture. "I guess your time is running short, after all." Then it began to amble around the narrow limits of the markings upon the ground, head turning smoothly to keep its gaze on Tamaryst as it moved. "You need help getting out of here alive," it observed. "And I need help getting out of here any time soon. Tell me, first... Where are you from?" She stared at it. Catching herself before demanding how that was relevant, she sucked in a shallow breath, held it, and answered stiltedly, "I am part of of the Coval tribe. From the Far Plains. Near the foothills." The demon paused in its ambling, lips thinning as they pursed, and released a soft 'hm'. "I know where you mean," it decided. "Around twenty-five leagues from here, yes?" She stiffly nodded. "Then my deal is this," it smoothly informed her, "as I know you will not surrender your soul. Enter a contract with me - I will take what I need from you and break us both free from here, then we will begin to travel for the Far Plains. When we arrive, I will release you from your servitude and you will be free." "What?" Tamaryst demanded. "Of course not! You..." She cleared her throat. "Uh, you do what you have to do to get us both free, then we go our separate ways. Fair trade." The demon's mouth twisted back into a smirk. Shaking its head, it answered with malicious humor, "This isn't about fair trade. It's about necessity." Waving a hand lazily, fingers curling into a loose fist, it said, "You have less than an hour to escape; I have an eternity. Now would be more pleasant than far into the future, but I don't mind waiting. Accept those terms or die." Tamaryst swallowed, jaw bunching and unbunching as she stared at the implacable demon. Finally, with an angry snort, she asked, "At the end of this... I'll be intact?" The demon rolled its eyes, then offered a grudging wave of assent paired with a nod. "Then one final condition," she muttered quietly, voice tightening. "We can't change the terms afterward. You can't extend the time, even if I ask, and I can't promise you my soul. Nothing like that, alright?" The demon laughed again and this time the sound was huskier, melodious enough that it sent a shiver down her spine. "Not much faith in your resolve?" it dryly asked her, teeth flashing in a smile. "I accept." "You're a demon," she countered with a grimace, drawing herself forward to stand just outside the rune symbols on the prison floor. "Alright, then." Before she could blink the demon had closed the distance between them, one hand stretching out to seize the front of her clothing in a fist. The earlier frailty she had felt from it now replaced by otherworldly strength, the succubus twisted around to pull Tamaryst past the markings, then shove her against the nearby wall hard enough that she was forced to blink away the resulting dizziness. "Tell me your name," it commanded, amber gaze searching her features. "Tamaryst," she answered slowly, glancing from side to side and then back to the demon. Where had that strength come from? "Tamaryst. That's a bit long, mm? How about Ryst? Well, Ryst..." It paused briefly, lifting an eyebrow and tightening its hold upon her as she began to protest. She stopped. "Well, Ryst," it repeated, leaning closer. "My name is Asiishma. You belong to me." Tamaryst turned her head away from the demon, gaze fixing on the sturdy door that stood beyond the metal bars of the cell, leading out into the adjacent room. Temporary, she reassured herself, unclenching. This will be worth it. The air seemed a little sweeter as she drew in a breath, and it grew increasingly difficult to keep from focusing on the demon that was nearly pressed up against her. And suddenly it was pressed up against her, breath and lips grazing over her ear. "It's a pity we don't have as long as I'd like," the demon murmured to her, free hand reaching forward to brush its knuckles along the side of her neck. "I think you're going to be a valuable little distraction, Ryst. But we're in a rush, so just be a good girl and stay still, hm?" As Asiishma spoke it lowered its hand further, fingers uncurling to let its palm possessively slide over her shirt, breast, and side. Her eyes flared angrily at Asiishma's words, and she lifted a hand to shove at its shoulder, mouth opening to voice a protest. Before she could get any words out the succubus had deftly moved its own head back and aside, mouth sealing effortlessly to her opened lips. She reflexively jerked her head back, colliding with the wall she was pressed against in a soft thump, and before she could collect herself to turn her head away the demon had pursued her, tongue sliding into her mouth. The taste that filled her mouth caught her off-guard; the demon's saliva had a sweet tinge to it that made her mouth water in response, and as her lips and tongue suddenly grew more responsive her eyes fluttered shut at the heady sensation. Asiishma's tongue moved deeper, possessively seeking hers out. The action triggered a low groan that she urgently quelled, eyes squeezing more firmly shut to keep from finding the demon's face. Her hand, forgotten by her and intercepted by the demon, curled into a loose fist where it had been pinned against the wall. The succubus' other hand gently released its hold on the front of Tamaryst's shirt, mirroring the path that its first hand had taken. Soon it reached the half-skirt of furs that hung about her waist, deftly slipping beneath them to palm against the soft leather trousers snugly fitted to her legs. There was no shyness in the demon's adventuring, and when Tamaryst clenched her knees together it uttered a soft laugh into their kiss, forcing a knee between hers and wedging her legs open wider, in order for its hand to begin grinding firmly against the leather over her groin. Just as her lungs started to burn the succubus broke the kiss, head dipping to kiss along the line of her jaw before finding her earlobe and teasing at it. She turned her head a little further to the side, lips agape as she sucked in breath and focused her thoughts. She's doing something to me. Spirits, I'm starting to burn up. She startled suddenly at the feel of cold fingers against bare skin, realized that the succubus was undoing the rows of string at the waistband of her trousers, and opened her mouth only to croak out a low moan when its cold hand delved beneath the trousers to firmly cup between her legs. She shuddered. She did not favor women, and she maintained a healthy revulsion of the occult, but it had been a long time since she had had sex and there was no denying that the succubus' intoxicating assertiveness was getting to her. The heel of its palm gyrated firmly against her pubic mound, nestled against the dark mat of hair there, while its fingers remained together and gently massaged her labia. She'd already begun to dampen a little, and there was no hiding the arousal that was being steadily coaxed from her. Opening her eyes and blinking a few times to take stock of the demon, she met its intense gaze and then glanced down to avoid it. Her cheeks flushed a dark red at the sight of its hand rocking insistently between her legs, and she brought her free arm forward to try and push Asiishma away, but before she could finish the movement the succubus had eased up to press its frame firmly and completely against hers, close enough that instead of being able to push it away all she could do was limply settle her hand against the cloak on its back. "You aren't getting anywhere with this charade," the demon purred with amusement, head hovering just in front of hers, lips almost grazing her mouth, amber eyes demanding her attention. "We both know you wouldn't lift a finger to stop me even if you could, little hunter. Just give in and enjoy it." She glowered at it and fought back another pleased shudder as its hand shifted more insistently, earning only a sultry laugh from the devil before it sealed its lips to her mouth and started another dominating kiss. Then two of its wet fingers curled upward, entering her without a shred of resistance and starting to press deeper inside her body. She let out a weak yelp at the sudden intrusion, hips bucking reflexively against the demon's hand and eyes rolling back at the intense surge of pleasure that shot through her frame. As she settled back against the wall the fingers inside her pushed up to the deepest knuckle, then began to withdraw and press back in again at a firm pace that had her core tightening down around them. The demon's palm had shifted lower, grinding against her clitoral hood with each inward thrust of its fingers and sending fresh waves of pleasure through her body. In shamefully quick time Tamaryst's body began to tense up even more, frame arching away from the wall and rising onto the balls of her feet. Starved for air and overwhelmed by pleasure, she balled up the demon's cloak in her fist, pulling it tighter against herself and helplessly flexing her pinned arm as she uttered a ragged moan into Asiishma's mouth and came hard upon its fingers. A quiet laugh filled her mouth, and the demon carefully maintained the same practiced motions over and over to drag out the torrent of pleasure suffusing her body. As the sensations finally began to ebb it backed away from her, both hands pulling free as it took a few languid steps and watched her slump halfway down the wall before catching herself. Breathing deeply to catch her breath and dazedly opening her eyes, she reached down to begin re-fastening her pants only to freeze upon catching sight of the demon's hand. Asiishma's hand was coated with slick moisture, but though that made her stomach sink and throat tighten her focus was on another detail. Earlier, its hand had appeared narrow and felt unhealthily narrow, despite its wiry strength. Now it looked entirely different; it was delicately formed, with slender fingers and respectably long, lacquered nails that she certainly hadn't felt moments before. The demon lifted its hand, two fingers slipping between its lips while its other arm twisted around to pull back the hood of its cloak. For a fraction of a second her eyes were trapped by the sight of its fingers being cleaned, but she pried her gaze upward to take in its facial features. A flush had barely darkened the demon's ashen cheeks, and the sickly pallor that had rested on its skin before had completely vanished, leaving a healthier quality to the dusky tone and bright amber eyes. Even its hair seemed more lustrous than she recalled. She realized, then, that the demon was watching her bewildered inspection with open amusement. Letting both hands swing down to its side gently, it flashed her a bright-toothed smirk and said, "Come now, pet, stop ogling - it's time to move. We have a baron to kill." A Deal with a Devil Ch. 02 This story makes more sense if you've read chapter 1 (it's short!). It features non-consensual themes, as well as violence of the non-sexual variety. *** Tamaryst's head felt as though it were spinning madly. She took a step forward, carefully navigating her way through the shattered bars that once divided the cell room in two, and followed after the cloaked demon that had just brushed the metal bars out of the way as easily as she might brush a cobweb out of her way. Then it moved for the door and pulled it open with casual grace, to her eye totally unaffected by the resounding crash when the cross-bar on the door's opposite side tore through its brackets and went crashing to the ground. She opened her mouth, flapped it shut, and tried again before the surprised voices on the other side of the door caught her ear and gave her focus. She realized the room was quite small as the door was hefted out of the way, made of unassuming stone blocks and dominated by a broad wooden table in its center. Three men, lightly armored, sat around the table and stared through the doorway with varying degrees of shock on her face. In the fractions of a second it took her to process them in return, worry tugged gently at her heart; she considered herself a capable hunter, and even a decent fighter. Against one person she could probably win; against two people, if she were armed, she might be able to turn things to her favor in the cramped room; taking on three people without a weapon seemed more like she was accelerating her execution rather than making an effort to escape. The nearest guard broke from his shock and reached down for the hilt of the knife strapped to his belt. Instantly the thoughts in her head vanished and she lunged for him, bowling into his chest roughly and inadvertently sending the table rocking into the other two men as she and the closest man went tumbling to the ground. Chaos erupted elsewhere in the room, but she and the guard were caught in a struggle over the hilt of his knife, still sheathed, that she could not turn away from. She'd closed the fingers of one hand around the knife's hilt and he had seized her wrist, and their other hands had caught each other. They struggled, breathing constricted and gazes locked on the weapon, and finally she manage to inch it out of the blade and turn it toward his unprotected stomach. She twisted sharply, and his grip slackened lifelessly. She swallowed and stared down at the blood pooling on the dying man's chest. Then the background sounds of struggling registered, causing her to nimbly launch to her feet, twist around, and consider the scene. One of the guards hadn't managed to untangle himself from the table. Still seated, he was trapped against the wall whit the large wooden slab of a table jammed firmly beneath his ribs, something slender and gray had wrapped itself around his throat several times. He scrabbled weakly at the constriction at his neck, unable to defeat the obstacles of the bench, the table, and the wrap all together. She couldn't see one end of the thing around his neck, but she followed the other end over the table and, she noted with a dull sense of surprise, into the robe Asiishma wore. It's a tail, she thought blankly, gaze drifting up from where it disappeared to study the back of the man who had the demon pinned against the nearest wall, one vambrace-plated arm grinding against its neck. Its hands were planted against him, but the man didn't seem at all subject to the supernatural power she had felt before. She blinked twice, sluggishly absorbing the information before it clicked. With a startled lunge forward, she brought the bloodied weapon in her hand up and drove the point diagonally into the side of his neck. It scraped along the side of his spine, caught on a protrusion of bone, and then clipped past it to sink deeper until the hilt sank firmly against his shoulder. When he began to crumple to the floor she allowed the hilt to pull free from her hand, leaving it blood-slicked and empty. She stared at Asiishma's face, who was staring back at her with a strange look, for a few seconds before looking down to the red streaks across her palm. She shivered. She was a hunter. She was used to stalking, to killing cleanly and honoring the dead for what they offered. She was used to combat, as well, but not to the point of killing someone. This was different, with blood and dying gasps and... "For a murderer, you seem unnaturally disturbed by fighting to keep yourself alive." The demon's words cut through her thoughts and pulled her gaze up from her hands in order to stare at its face. It was still regarding her with a thoughtful expression, amber gaze unreadable. She cleared her throat softly and looked back down at her hand without answering. Asiishma stepped away from the wall, the third guard crumpling forward and down against the tabletop as the coiled tail finally unwrapped from his neck. Brushing past her, the succubus moved for the intact door on the far side of the room and said, "Good work, pet. Your things should be around somewhere. Get what you need. We have to find the baron and then get out into the city before things become too chaotic here." The title further served to snap Tamaryst out of her conflicted thoughts, birthing a warm knot of resentment low in her gut. She wryly surveyed the bloodied disarray in the room, biting back the query of how much chaos was too much, then edged toward the bundle of furs stacked atop a hide backpack in the far corner of the room. She lifted the set of furs and twisted them over her shoulder, sighing in relief as the wrapped around her back and across her chest, the familiar weight of the garb settling into place as it hid the thin, sleeveless, cotton shirt she wore. She flipped open the pack, taking stock of the scant rations within and the absence of what little money had been there, then turned her attention to the four foot shafts of wood leaning up against the corner. Each had been identical, tipped with matte, sharp metal heads bound with brown strips of sinew, although two of the heads had been broken off somehow and were now missing. A bitter taste in her mouth, she took the sole intact weapon and looked the short spear over, gaze falling on each of the grip-bindings upon the wooden length before she straightened and turned about to face Asiishma. It nodded to her, pushed open the door, and beckoned her through it. They passed through empty stone halls, and she battered down the last of the nerves that had overtaken her previously. As they quietly explored the halls comprising what seemed to be this wing of the building, Asiishma evidently knowing just where she wanted to go, it explained to her in a melodious, entrancing voice, "This whole wing of the castle was constructed well before this baron's time. The family's staff was far larger then, of course. Now he only keeps the guards for the prison here, and that was all the more convenient for trying to keep me subjugated, by his rationale. Nothing to feed on. It worked well for a time, between the scarcity of those to find and the sheer zealotry of these Fhlerites." It led her up a worn staircase, ascending flight after flight as it continued to speak. "They probably did not fully consider the ramifications of putting you in with me, Ryst. Tribal mystics are so malleable when it comes to things like... Well, anything." She bristled silently and kept following. They turned out onto the fourth and final floor, stepping onto an opulent purple rug that was a sharp contrast to the austerity elsewhere in the castle. Tamaryst quickly scanned over the large room the stairway opened into, soon deciding that the room had been designed to be an expansive foyer of sorts. Tall brass-worked lamps stood at either side of the chamber, supplementing the light coming from a set of windows along what she assumed to be the northern wall. Two elaborate, polished doors carved from a dark hardwood stood in the middle of the far wall, and to their left stood a middle-aged, sleepy-eyed guard who became distinctly less insouciant as he took note of them. Falling into a practiced combat stance, he began reaching for the sword sheathed at his hip and, rather than confront them directly, began fluidly moving for a velvet rope hanging near the closest window. The head of Tamaryst's spear buried itself in the side of his neck, sending him to the ground in a sprawl. "You threw away your only weapon?" Asiishma curiously asked her, watching as he shuddered and died upon the lush carpet. A shudder worked through her, and with a little nod she explained, quietly, "I don't think it would have helped me if he got close enough." "Stay out here," it commanded after turning its gaze to silently watch her for ten long seconds. After another few it pivoted forward, form swaying gracefully beneath its cloak as it advanced upon the elegant doors. She started moving toward the prone man, pausing at the gravelly, masculine tone that voiced a bewildered question from within the adjacent room after the demon pushed both doors open and uttered a sickly-sweet, "My darling! It has been far too long." She shuddered again, glancing over the furnishings that seemed to indicate a sitting room before both doors slammed shut behind the cloaked demon, stifling the sounds of scuffling that struck up soon after. As screams started to filter through from behind the door she shook herself against a chill, crouching down to gently work the spear free from the dead man. Her eyes caught upon his sightless gaze. Four men, soon to be five, had died because she had been willing to make a deal to save herself. It hadn't even been an hour since that moment, either, she thought as she began to bite at the inside of her low lip harshly enough to send pain flickering through her cheeks. How many more would follow? She numbly thought that she hadn't deserved to die, and lost herself in staring at the bloody stain forming on the rich purple rug beneath the corpse's neck. She didn't notice that the screaming had stopped until one of the doors separating the reading room from the foyer swung open. She watched Asiishma step out, one arm lifted, the gray skin of its hand and forearm completely hidden by darkening blood upon its skin. The demon was holding some globular lump of muscle or flesh, a little larger than its fist, and bit sharply into the heart as it turned an exultant golden stare toward her. Tamaryst vomited on the carpet. *** Tirth was a sprawling city of alabaster-white buildings and verdant green parks. It was ruled over by a well-respected lord who resided the palatial estate that sat almost in the city's center, just beside the river Elaim. Five barons (four now, unbeknownst to the rest of the city) frequented their own, smaller, private estates within the city when not busy governing their allotments of the surrounding land. In general the city was large, clean, and almost entirely without crime. A hefty affluence from years of fertile lands and favorable trades contributed to this peace, supplemented by the city's extraordinarily harsh punishments for crimes of any sort. Furthermore the increasingly-popular religion built around the god Flehr stressed the value of generosity, inspiring many many of the upper class to convert some of their land within the city to publicly-accessible gardens, or to fund inns that occasionally operated at a deficit, or to find some other way to help their less-privileged neighbors. Tamaryst had little time to appreciate the sights as she was ushered along the streets beside Asiishma. She hadn't quite managed to recover after throwing up, even though it yielded little more than bile and a trace amount of water. Her heart kept pounding rapidly as she followed the demon through stairs and hallways that eventually led to a discreet exit onto the back of the baron's grounds, where a cold sweat had broken out over her skin. Asiishma had taken to guiding her by hand then, directing her shambling gait through busy thoroughfares, narrow side-streets, and green courtyards. Then they were inside a large wooden room and it was speaking to a portly woman behind a counter, soft laughter coming from the demon and vague, friendly smiles from the other woman. She thought the woman briefly looked to her throat, inspecting the thin metal band Asiishma had snapped around her neck just before they left the castle. She couldn't remember why. Before she managed to focus on the conversation the demon was firmly guiding her away from the bar, past tables full of people she hadn't noticed before, and up a flight of worn but solidly-build stairs. It pushed her down the hall at the top of the stairs, then through a doorway at the end and into an expansive bedroom. Heavy white drapes framed a window on the far wall, a desk with a steeply-angled surface and a chair to her left, and a wide bed to her right. Against the far wall and beneath the window stood a long porcelain tub with curved-over edges, standing atop knobby legs. It was still bright outside and the window provided the room ample light, but there were two glass-covered lamps bracketed to each of the room's walls. A few steps carried her over to the bed, and with a twist she sank down onto the plush blanket covering it. As her eyes settled on the ground a few feet in front of herself Asiishma paced the room in one slow circuit, eventually turning to approach the door and pull it open. As the din from the lower floor filled the room again she glanced up, spotting the young man in a white shirt that exhanged a wooden tray to the demon in exchange for a small pouch. A moment later the door was closed, the succubus pressing a mug of tepid liquid into her hands. She sipped at it experimentally, blinking in surprise at the taste of partially-cooled mint taste, then gulped down a little more with a shiver of relief as the liquid washed over the acidic aftertaste of bile that still lingered in her mouth. "Delirious," Asiishma was saying. "You allowed yourself to become delirious." There was something in its tone that made her chest tighten slightly in a pleasurable way, even though it was obviously dissatisfied with her. She sipped at her tea quietly, began to take in her surroundings more cognizantly, and listened. "You are going to have to do some quick growth if you want to last long into this journey, Ryst. I offered you the deal that we made because you have the potential to be strong. If you do not prove to live up to that, things will not go well at all for you." She finished the last of the tea, hiding a trace of a smirk behind the mug's lip. It gave her a small flicker of pleasure to know that the demon wasn't entirely satisfied by the arrangement, either. Its hand was suddenly beneath her jaw, cupping her chin gently and directing it upward until her gaze met the golden eyes a short distance in front of and above her. She inhaled cautiously as she looked up at it, the faintly animalistic, musky scent that greeted her nose causing her to shift fractionally atop the bed. It tilted its head to the side, commenting with a mixture of approval and derision, "You're willful. You also need to rest, and I can't afford to break you yet. Sleep, pet." As she heard the command Tamaryst felt a surge of warmth flooding from the demon's cupped hand, moving in a slow wave across her face, head, and then down her neck. The wave left a fuzzy sensation in its wake, unknotting her muscles and weighing down her eyelids. She opened her mouth to speak, or at least tried, but before she could form a question she felt the world spin and plunge into a comfortable blackness. *** The room had darkened slightly when Tamaryst's eyes cracked open to blearily survey it. It was night outside, but each of the lamps now burned brightly, replacing the absent sunlight with a warm, orange glow that suffused the room. The slim metal band around her neck was digging into her spine slightly, so she shifted her head against the pillow propped beneath it. As she moved, she realized that she was naked beneath the sheets that covered her, prompting her eyes to fly open and the comfortable post-sleep haze to vanish. She blinked twice, clearing her throat and propping herself up on one elbow as she looked around, her other hand rising to pinch at the bridge of her nose and wipe sleep from the corner of her eyes. The room was largely as she remembered it. She lightly bit at the tip of her tongue, breathing in and partially noting the faint musky scent that lingered in the room and seemed to incite hints of desire within her. Releasing her tongue, she lowered the hand at her nose and scanned the room further. Her clothes were in a neat stack on the chair that sat before the desk, on wall opposite the bed. The brown cloak Asiishma wore was folded atop her clothing, she realized, and the demon itself was luxuriating in the porcelain tub by the window, head resting back against the curved lip and gray arms draped high to rest on either side of the tub. At the other end of the tub several feet of tail stuck up into the air, forming a flexible, pointed tip that sinuously flicked back and forth at a relaxed, slow pace. As she watched the succubus cracked its eyes open, rising with a gentle flex to sit back against the tub's curved end, golden eyes fixing upon her. It watched her for a short time, then cracked a smirk and leaned forward to rise from the tub with a quiet swirl of water. "It's about time you woke up," it told her as it stepped down onto the room's wooden floor. Her eyes followed its first sculpted leg out of the tub and down, settling upon its feet and then slowly rising to take stock of the creature. Everything about it - from the flare of its hips into its thighs; or the subtle inward curve of its waist and smooth abdomen; the tight fullness of its breasts, crested by darker nipples that had pebbled firmly despite the room's warmth; its slim neck and sharp jawline, high cheekbones and openly-tempting gaze; the damp sheen that covered its gray skin; even the sway of its hips as it slowly departed the tub and started walking for the bed - seemed perfectly sculpted to arouse lust in any man, or, she realized as she stirred slightly, any woman. Another darted glance confirmed that it was hairless beneath the neck. As it drew closer to the bed she pulled back, the hand above the covers gripping them gently to keep herself covered while her other arm twisted, digging an elbow into the mattress to pull her toward the far corner. She didn't have a plan, exactly, but she knew that had no intention of letting the demon have its way with her simply because it wanted to. It reached the bed before she reached the opposite end, leaning forward to plant one hand near one of her legs as its knee curled forward and up, allowing it to sinuously climb onto the mattress. Determination steeling itself within her, she reached forward in a stopping motion with her free hand, cautioning, "No cl-" "Yes," Asiishma interjected, nimbly threading the fingers of its nearest hand through those on her outstretched arm in a mockery of the intimate gesture. It tightened its grip and slid forward, weight coming down and unreal power pushing her hand down, past her head to press firmly into the pillow beneath her. The rotation caused her weight to slide off her other elbow, and as she sank flat atop the bed the succubus continued moving forward, throwing a knee over her in order to settle over her hips. "Yes," it repeated. "You need to learn two things, Tamaryst Coval." She blinked at the full use of her name, the tension that had begun to grow in her thighs as she prepared to buck the demon off suddenly relaxing. "First," it continued, staring down at her with amused superiority, "You need to realize that by your own promise you are mine. That is not going to change." Its knees tightening on her sides as she shifted a little, it continued, "Second, you need to learn that, deep down, you are content with that arrangement." A Deal with a Devil Ch. 02 Their short peace was over. Tamaryst clenched her jaw shut and tried to buck Asiishma off of her, using the motion to twist her shoulders and nimbly free her left arm from the blankets that had been covering it. The demon's eyes widened as it rocked up with the motion, tightening its hold on her snared hand and bearing down more heavily in reply. She reached up to seize at the dark locks framing the succubus' head above her, but before she could finish the movement its unoccupied hand had intercepted her wrist, tightening harshly and forcing it down onto the bed to mirror her other captured arm. It gave a lewd, rolling grind of its hips against her stomach, staring down at her intently, and chided, "You've already sold yourself away. It's really a good thing I like the spirit you seem so intent to brandish. Any other demon and you'd already be broken." It leaned down, wisps of dark hair brushing her cheek before its warm breath rushed over her face, lips pressing to her mouth with soft insistency. She breathed in as its tongue forced between her lips, mentally reeling at the sense of animalistic need that rose within. She twisted, but with her arms captured in its grip, her hips held down by its weight, and her legs snared by the tight blankets she could find no leverage to fight it. Asiishma deepened the kiss, tongue possessively forcing itself against hers, then pulling away to search her mouth. A few seconds later the demon broke the kiss, head pulling back to hover centimeters above hers, heated amber gaze searching her eyes. She swallowed, savoring the aftertaste of the kiss and forcing herself to try and focus. Then it let her go. She blinked, dumfounded, hands curling and uncurling experimentally as Asiishma dipped its head lower, pressing a damp kiss to the hollow of her throat and then lightly biting her skin afterward. She shivered a little at the sensation, uncertainly cutting the tip of her tongue along the inside of her teeth. Being pinned down with trivial ease was demoralizing. Her hands were free now, but the uneasy knot in her chest made her pause. She didn't want to struggle pointlessly, to get further proof of her comparative weakness. Besides, warm lust was continuing to build in her chest, evoking a little shiver as the demon began to pull down the bedcovers in a bundle over her stomach. There was something about the succubus -in its scent or its saliva, she thought- that caused her need to heighten. She wasn't an overly sexual person, but something- A jolt of pleasure shot through her body as Asiishma's tongue dragged across her right nipple, abolishing her thoughts. Its lips sealed around the nub as its tongue lashed back across twice more, and its left hand settled gently on her ribcage beneath her breasts, fingers gliding idly across her skin. She expelled her caught breath in an inarticulate moan, eyes fluttering. Its other hand slide upward, grazing her unattended breast gently. She drew in a shallow breath, but rather than stop the demon's limb carried on further, and came to rest gently atop her throat, palm spread so its fingers pressed against one side of her neck while its thumb pressed against the other. She tensed, waiting for the hand to tighten, but the constriction did not come. Instead Asiishma shifted its head, sharply nipping the side of her breast before teasing at her nipple again. Tamaryst tossed her head back against the pillow, shoulder blades bumping together as a groan tore from her chest. The way the demon masterful treatment made her feel like prey, and sharpened her desire more. As the demon's hand gently massaged at the muscles to either side of her neck, it brought its teeth to bear against the hardened nub atop her breast and bit down gently, eliciting a grudging whimper from the woman. Her hips churned back and forth where they were pinned beneath the succubus, and she felt trickles of moisture spread across her thighs. Eventually the demon's hand playing against her ribs began to slide down, working beneath the blankets on her stomach to drag across her taut muscles. She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt it reach her pubic mound, then twist past to drag slender digits across her lips. With a little more stretching, its palm ground firmly against her exposed clit to cause a sudden, violent jerk from the supine woman. Her hands curled into fists, one digging against the bedding while the other stretched out to press against the demon's shoulder to little effect. Abandoning her breast, it lithely swung its head up to press its lips against her cheek, and murmured as it ground is palm against her torturously, "See, Ryst? There is no need to struggle. There is no use in it, either." "Just... Finish," Tamaryst spat back, though the needy panting that accompanied the reply turned the words from combative to plaintive. "No," the demon replied simply, causing her eyes to fly open in shock. It studied her smugly, eyes raking down her face to take in her slowly-undulating body, sweat lending a sheen to her muscled form. As it leaned back to settle more weight near its hips, forcing its palm against her clit a little harder, it smugly informed her, "This isn't ending until you're begging, little hunter." Her cheeks, already a little red from pleasure, flushed darker in contemplation at its words. She shook her head and opened her mouth, but before she could speak the succubus eased forward and pressed its lips to hers, tongue invading her mouth as its middle finger slowly curled to drag along the slit between her legs. She spasmed. The torment continued, its palm rhythmically gyrating against her clit as it broke the kiss to bite and lick its way back toward her breasts. After enduring for a short time she growled out a desperate noise, toes curling and twisting at the sheets and blankets pinning her legs down before biting out, "Please!" The demon's golden eyes flicked up, studying her as it kissed a damp circle around her left breast. "Please... finish," she managed obliquely as she glared down at the demon, tongue flicking out to dampen her lips after the capitulation. The lust and pleasure wracking through her body were painfully chaotic by now, making threatening to scatter her entirely but always just out of reach. It was maddening. Asiishma's silken laugh broke into her frayed thoughts, a proud little smile gracing the demon's lips before it hissed, "Good girl!" The succubus bit down on her nipple harshly after the praise, tongue flicking in a lazy circle around the trapped nub. Simultaneously its hand ground more intensely against her clitoris and two fingers thrust into her violently, sending her body convulsing. The roiling mass of unsatisfied need built up by her torment exploded all at once, whiting out her vision as a painfully hot wave of ecstasy radiated through her body from a point just beneath her navel. Her head craned back as her body arched harshly enough to nearly disoldge Asiishma, and her curled hand against the bed dug deep crescents into her palm as an overwhelmed cry broke from her lips and filled the wooden room. The demon was relentless, fingers sliding into and out of her forcefully, thumb taking the place of its palm in grinding against that sensitive spot as it bit and kissed at her breast, free hand lifting to claw painfully at one of her shoulders. Her orgasm came in waves, pushed higher by the persistent stimulation, to the point that she collapsed back on the bed limply before they had even begun to subside, her shouts and thrashes replaced by lip-biting and violent trembling. Finally the demon granted her reprieve. It extricated its hand and firmly pressed its palm against her core, smugly staring down at her. After draping itself possessively over her body, Asiishma delivered a light kiss to one of the hunter's closed eyes and murmured, "That's enough. I had planned to drag this out for you a little longer, but I think this shall be sufficient. You've performed splendidly, hunter." Her jaw tightened and she forced her eyes open, swallowing. A moment after she managed to focus her gaze on the demon's golden eyes, it pulled its hand from between her legs, painting the glistening moisture covering it over one angry red mark on her shoulder before idly licking at her fingers. She swallowed again, eyes averting from an embarrassment she was too exhausted and sated to feel in much force. The demon smirked, hand drawn forward to smear the lingering moisture across her cheek liberally. "Go to sleep, Ryst," the demon bid. "We'll be travelling a long way tomorrow." Cheeks burning, she squeezed her eyes shut to avoid Asiishma's gaze more than to obey her, but the sore exhaustion permeating her body caused her senses to fuzz soon thereafter. The succubus settled against her more comfortably, naked body pliant against hers, and sleep came.