The tall, dark man in his crisp, dark suit, titled back his head and sighed with satisfaction. The teeth that composed his smile flickered briefly, fading to sharp, triangular replacements that glinted in the light, and his eyes flooded with crimson. A long, forked tongue darted from his mouth and licked his lips before zipping back in again. Gradually the hue of his skin faded into a deep scarlet.
The girl’s hair in his hands felt so delightfully wrong. It was so good to know the only time she had knelt down like this was to pray to her creator, and that he was defiling such a pure gesture. Her locks were silk between his fingers, the flesh of her scalp velvet on his fingertips as she bobbed her head. With each passing minute she needed his guidance less, became more absorbed in his intoxicating presence, but he left his hands there all the same: he liked her to know she was owned.
Glancing down, he admired his handiwork. The ropes binding here were tied just tight enough that she would ache once they were removed, but not so tight that they were painful now, and the very idea thrilled him. Even if he chose to release her, his presence would still linger over her. She would not be able to do so much as lift her hand without an ache to remind her of what she had done, how deeply she had betrayed those who loved her. But then, that was why the God-fearing mortals were the best to corrupt; they were supposed to be able to resist the work of evil hands. And yet here she was, barely of age, daughter of a family who would cross themselves at the very mention of a gay, worshipping him of her own free will.
The demon sighed again: it was all so easy.
He thought back to the first time he had laid eyes on her: praying for a little old lady midway through a lengthy church service. The preacher had been ranting for some time, but stood at the back he had zoned out some time after a segment about burning in the fires of Hell if dishonest with the Lord. He had not been able to take his eyes off her. He had known he would have her, just as he had known that she would succumb of her own accord, but it had been difficult nonetheless. All he had been able to think about was taking her there in front of all those worthless mortals. Striding up, tearing her clothes to shreds and defiling her on their altar, beneath their precious statues and stained glass windows.
But he had held himself in check, and his patience had been rewarded: the briefest glance at the stranger in the suit had been all it took to hook his catch. All it had been from then was a case of pulling her in.
He shivered as her tongue slid along the underside of his shaft and she flicked it up over his head. He could feel her smiling as he growled with satisfaction, and she increased her pace just a little so that he began to hear wet gagging. He was so glad he had insisted she wear the jumper he had first seen her in: it almost made it feel like he was taking her at the moment he saw her. He was living at least a little of the fantasy he had conjured upon first setting eyes on her petite, innocent figure what seemed like an eternity ago.
In truth, he knew it had been only a number of months, but the exact number escaped him. After all, he had no need to place any value in the measure of time in the same way that the mortals did. They were finite, fleeting, whereas he was a perpetual presence. Long after her generation had withered and turned to dust he would still prevail, bringing corruption to fresh decades.
However long it had been, he had thought about nothing else but her in that time. Her soft body, the heat of her sex, her demure smile and the way she pulled back her hair and slipped it behind her ear when a stray strand fell across her face. He had fantasised about what it might feel like to run his finger over her nipples, to slip his tongue between both sets of her lips, to hear her beg for mercy. He had been swallowed by carnal, animal lust, and as he always did he had waited patiently for her to fall victim.
The easiest ones were always those who strove to be a caring shoulder. She was one of those ones. She had found him at the back of the room during a sermon and introduced herself. He had not listened to her name. He had been too busy imagining fucking her face. Rough. Hard. Messy. But he had learned to separate his mind from his body, and he had introduced himself in return without missing a beat and without telling the truth. It was a name she would understand, which was important when his real name was indescribable by mortal language. They had made the kind of conversation that mortals put in their movies: intelligent, quick, somehow passionate yet fundamentally innocent. It was from one of those movies where man and woman are both quick-witted and irresistibly intrigued by the other. Where they converse politely yet stare daggers of lust at one another.
He had let the whites of his eyes tint with red, just for a moment, and he had smiled when she frowned. The mysterious stranger: how were mortals so simple? He had achieved the title in her mind, and he knew from then he merely had to feed her more mystery.
He wished he could see her pussy from this angle, but he could not. He knew it, of course, but the sight was always sweet, and he longed for it. He knew that her lips were soft, her folds were slick and delicate, her opening hot, wet and deliciously tight. He knew all this, yet he had never had it before. At least, not physically. Her dreams had educated him well enough though. He had slunk into them when she least expected it, like a cat in the night. Into dreams of church and school he had crept – even those dreams that are purely fantastical and make exactly no sense had fallen prey to his charms. Once inside he had shown his face through some extra in the background of her sleeping mind until he was all that remained in her dream. Dreaming memories of her school classes had been twisted into desires of her in schoolgirl dress bent over his lap being spanked. Visions of church sermons had shifted into sinful dungeons in which he bound her and used her with a deep and unending passion. Bizarre imaginings that teetered on the brink of nightmares ended with her laid back and his dick buried in her pussy.
Each time she could see his face: sharp teeth, red eyes, forked tongue. And each time she did not care. She submitted herself to his will and allowed him to feel every inch of her perfect, innocent form. He had wondered often if she had craved such a hand as his for some time, but he had not cared either way: even in dreams she was a divine plaything.
When they had met in the waking world he had seen the way she looked at him. Her initial interest had given into uncertainty, which had crumbled into barely concealed longing. She would not tear her eyes from his person throughout each sermon they attended. She would not bow her head when the congregation did so to pray. Nor would she make any excuse for the times he caught her biting her lip and gently holding her own hand around her neck just as he had done – albeit more forcefully – in her dreams.
He shivered as she took on a more desperate style. The gentle bobbing was gone, in its place a frantic bucking of her head, taking him deep with every drop and yet barely pulling away with the lift. She gorged herself on his perfect demonic cock, savouring his forbidden taste, moaning for more of him. No longer was she craving his pleasure: she was craving his cum.
He knew she had been wanting this for some time, yet he knew from experience that the results were that bit sweeter when you let them stew a little. He could have enticed her to him at any time months ago, but it did best to push that longing to breaking point. For several weeks he had vanished from the sermons, yet each night he continued to fill her dreams. When he returned, there was no longer any question about if she would succumb to him: she already had. It was merely a question of when he wanted to take her.
All he had done was ask her to meet him in this place, on this night, but they had both known the purpose for which they were meeting. He had shown her the way to the sinful building many times in her dreams, and they had watched together as other women demonstrated her future. When she had arrived she had said nothing, only removed her skirt and knelt before him.
He had grinned. There had been no underwear underneath. That was her decision, as were the slutty heels she wore, and he had not expected either. Whispering things until now forbidden into her ear, he had bound her up and she had waited patiently for him to finish. With her restrained he had finally stood before her and shown her his true face. As in her dreams she had been unperturbed. She had merely stared up at him with those perfect, endlessly innocent eyes. He could have drowned in them.
‘Feed me, Sir,’ she had said, and so he had. No sooner had he presented his cock than she had taken him deep into her mouth.
It was difficult for him to believe that she had never actually done this. In her dreams, she had, but there were many things mortals did in dreams that they could not hope to do in reality. Yet she was sensual and passionate to a degree he had not expected. To begin with at least. Now that was gone and she worked desperately to bring him to climax.
He wished he could be there to hear the wails of her family when they found her missing. Their perfect, virgin girl vanished in the night. They would be like a symphony to his ears. But he would not be there. Instead he would be somewhere they would never tread, in that den of hedonistic pleasure his kind originated from. She would be there too, naked and moaning, one of countless others who had once been women of the mortal realm. She would be laid out, a dick in every opening she could take one in and a passionate edge to the screams that were muffled by the dick she would be gagging on. And as she strove to satisfy her insatiable desires, her physical form would be twisted into a better image. Her skin would turn scarlet, her eyes would flood crimson, and her forked tongue would dart between triangular teeth to tease the head of the dick hovering before her lips…
Thanks for reading!
I would love to hear your thoughts on my work, so please leave me a comment!
Keep up to date with new releases by following me elsewhere:
Twitter: @Fetish_Fantasy_
Tumblr: fetishesandfantasiesworld
