Enslaved by the Incubus (The Incubus Chronicles) (3 page)

“On your knees,”
Torre commanded.

Had she complied
of her own will, or had the very words forced her to the stone? It didn’t
matter. There she was, wrists bound behind her back, kneeling before his
magnificent rod, erect and presented to her willing mouth. Her leash was
gripped firmly his right hand, leaving her just enough slack to do her job. Amy
took his manhood eagerly into her open mouth, blood red lips encircling the
massive, engorged member. She felt the barbs claw at the inside of her mouth
and rake her tongue, just as they had punished the willing walls of her vagina
the previous night. His flesh burned, his shaft holding firmer than cast iron
as she worked her own magic, changing speeds and techniques, making his eyes
roll back in his head. Here, bound and on her knees, mouth violated, she was in
control. His right hand involuntarily dropped the leash; his left hand was
caressing her hair and holding on for dear life.

It was the first
time Amy ever heard a demon scream. His helpless, wild joy shattered the air as
he released. Torre’s burning seed flooded her mouth, choking her with the force
of its release and the sheer volume. Amy fought to swallow as much as she
could, to show him she could take it and because, more than anything else, she
wanted his seed inside her, however it entered. When she pulled her head back
Torre’s remaining ejaculate doused her face and chest. The musk from it was overpowering,
driving her desire beyond her control.

She kissed the
head of her master’s cock and looked up. He was pleased.

“You…promised me
your true form.” Amy pleaded.

“You are feeling
bold, little one.”

“I’m holding up my
end.”

“You will be,”
Torre said with an evil smile. Then he cruelly seized the leash and pulled her
standing, flooding her with fear and arousal.
 
He turned and led his barefoot captive
deeper into the chasm, down massive curving staircases and through secret
tunnels she could never escape. She dared not fall, as he would have dragged
her the rest of the way. Tonight was different than the first night. She had
come back, and now he was going to take her to her limits, viciously. Exactly
how she wanted it.

After what seemed
like an eternity, they reached the center of the cavern. Torre dragged his slave
into a circular, torch-lit chamber. The anticipation was killing Amy.

“Behold,” ordered
the demon.

The chamber
illuminated as flames ran up the walls, sending burning heat across Amy’s
exposed, mortal flesh. There, in the center of the chamber, she could see an ornate,
curved stone altar with marble phalli and iron rings. A woman – or man
– could be bound and dominated an infinite number of ways on its
unforgiving stone.

So this is where I am to be taken.

Torre seized his
beautiful slave by her hips and placed her on the altar, sliding a curved marble
phallus deep into her ass as he did. He chained her mercilessly, leaving Amy on
her back in an X, the curve of the altar thrusting her spectacular breasts toward
the sky and exposing her already soaking mound to meet her master. Amy moaned
in a mix of ecstasy and agony, overcome by her own enslavement. She was ready
to come
now
.

Torre looked at
her, his dark eyes burning with desire.

“Fight me,” her
demon-captor ordered.

Amy struggled against her bonds as
if her life depended on it, her dripping, naked flesh writhing against demonic iron,
the stone phallus violating her further, driving both of their arousal levels
to new heights.

Take me now, dammit!

Amy’s helpless
writhing set Torre free from his adopted, almost-human form.

When she focused, she saw Torre in
his true form. She gasped. Above her stood a massive bull-god, a Minotaur like
creature with muscles that could crush anything they encountered. He was at
least eight feet tall, if not ten. The bull had dead, black eyes, devoid of the
love that always lingered in the back of human Torre’s eyes, no matter what he
was doing to her. This creature was going to tear her in half, taking her on
its own terms, a final act that would seal her in bondage to him for eternity.
If she lived…

Do it!

The Bull snorted
and its shaft rose between Amy’s lovely, chained legs. Amy almost screamed when
she saw it. But she wanted it so, so badly. Torre’s human staff had mastered
her, and now she had to find out what his full power could do, whether she was
woman enough….

The half-bull,
half man climbed atop her, seemingly recognizing her by her scent. He stopped
before her exposed vagina and licked, his tongue separating her folds, its
rough surface running across her clit and exploring her deeply. She needed to
orgasm immediately, but as it did last night, Torre’s demon-magic prevented
her. She would not be granted release until the massive shaft of the bull
finished with her, flooding her with its seed.

When she could
stand no more, the beast pulled itself fully atop her, smelling his own musk on
her heaving breasts. This female was his, and it was time to show her what he
did with his women. Amy was drenched, her juices flowing down her thighs and
being consumed, greedily, by the porous stone altar. The bull aligned himself,
and aware of the limitations of his mate, moved slowly as he found his way
inside the sweet, captive, mortal woman.

Amy’s scream
echoed throughout the caverns of Hell, filling them with her glory. She didn’t
know how, but she had taken him, and now he was punishing her beyond
comprehension with thrust after thrust. She was in agony, but could not bear
for it to stop. This is why she was here, this is why he took her, this was what
she needed.

The same spell
that prevented her from coming prevented her from passing out. Every second was
an eternity of torment, driving Amy from her mortal mind as she lost the
ability to hear her own ecstatic screaming. The Bull was ready to come,
thrusting harder and deeper again and again until he finally bellowed and his
spell broke, setting free the uncontrollable orgasm that had built inside Amy. Slave
and Master locked gazes in mutual orgasm, Amy helplessly in love as tears of
joy ran down her face.

Then there was
nothing left except sweet oblivion.

Amy did not wake
on the mortal plane. Torre’s scent filled her nostrils; satin sheets covered
her supine body. She was in her master’s bed, restrained only by the muscular
arms of his human form. They kissed for some time, saying nothing. Torre smiled
at her.

“You are mine,” he
said.

The dawn light
shone into Amy’s bedroom.

She opened her
eyes. There it was, his mark – forever branded on her inner thigh, a sign
of her eternal bondage to her lord and master. She smiled and collapsed back on
the bed. Amy could feel a fire within her; she pulsed with strength and energy
she had never known. The hollow feeling she had been struggling with since her
divorce was gone.

In the days and
weeks that followed, she got quite good at living her dual life: loving mother,
taking the kids to soccer and ballet, attending school functions by day, and
demon’s consort by night. She didn’t take shit from anybody. After all, she was
a woman who could slake a pit demon’s lust. She had even taught him a thing or
two. Knowing that felt
awesome
. And if
a day in the mortal world got a little too boring, she could submit to the
chains of Hell simply by closing her eyes.

Any time I damn well please
.

THE END

Coming Next:

The Incubus Chronicles #2:

CHAINED by the Incubus

In which Cassie learns
the punishment for taunting a young demon, in wave after helpless
wave.…