Victoria's Demon Lover (5 page)

     Jack was breathing hard, now
and his thighs trembled with the control of stopping halfway.  “Are you well,
Maggs?” he breathed, then swallowed hard.

     “It does hurt,” she cried. 
Take it out.”

     “Uhng…” Jack gasped. “I
can’t.  I can’t.  Don’t make me, Maggs.”

     Maggie writhed under him, twisting
the sheets in her hands and gasping.  “Oh God, she whispered.

     Jack closed his eyes and
Victoria watched as his back bunched up and he slowly and carefully pushed the
rest of the way inside, his hips met Maggie’s and he arched over her, his arms supporting
his body.  She cried out, but not too loudly and bounced her hips and kicked
her feet as though she might escape from the hard cock inside her.

     He did not move, his body
pinned her to the thin mattress. There was no sound in the room but Maggie’s
soft sobs and Jack’s groan.

     “It’s done, my love.”

     “That is all?” Maggie gulped
and sniffed.  “That was it?”

     Jack shook his head, “No. 
That is not all.  That was just the hardest part.  It’s over.  You can relax. 
Relax.”

     Maggie’s knees lowered and she
stopped kicking her feet.  Her breaths became longer as she obeyed him.  Jack
was trembling with the effort of not moving.  Victoria imagined his struggle. 
Her demon growled above her as if he was experiencing that same feeling.

     When Jack was satisfied that
Maggie was no longer frightened he slowly backed himself out of her, then
reversed and stroked inside, still gently but with more intent this time. 
Maggie screwed up her face for the first few strokes, but slowly relaxed and
opened her eyes again as she became used to the sensation.

     Encouraged, Jack increased the
rhythm, finally meeting his body’s need and releasing the reins he had put on
his lust.

     Maggie’s eyes opened wide, in
surprise this time instead of fear.  She turned her head toward the window and
Victoria nearly fell from her seat as Maggie’s blue eyes met hers.  There was a
flash and Victoria was on her back on a thin straw mattress looking up at the
rafters of a thatched cottage, the thick hard cock of a blacksmith inside her,
stroking his lust like the bellows of a forge.

     Everything she had imagined
was true.  He felt like steel and velvet.  His heavy muscles were powerful and
shook her whole body with every stroke.  She felt delicious warmth from the
contact and an increasing tingle around her clit.  He was large enough to tug
the clit at every forward thrust and toggle it when he withdrew.  It was an
intoxicating rhythm.  She let her breath out and closed her eyes to concentrate
on that exquisite sensation.  He was speaking to her as he moved, but she did
not hear him, she was so caught up in her own pleasure.  He had her by the
shoulders now, bracing himself as he pumped.  The slow tingle grew stronger and
Victoria recognized the familiar feeling of an imminent climax.  She opened her
eyes so she could watch him as she came. 

     His own face was twisted in
the grimace of pleasure.  He grit his teeth and increased the rhythm of his
pounding thrusts.  Victoria moaned as she felt her body began the rippling
contractions on his cock that signaled her orgasm was about to unfold.  She
arched her back to meet him as she peaked.  She had taught her old lovers this
signal for them to pause and let her enjoy the orgasm a few seconds if she came
before they did.  She was surprised to feel this stranger, Jack, stop
mid-thrust and wait for her.

     She rolled her eyes back and
gasped, feeling him hard inside as the rippling waves of pleasure rolled over
and over her.  Her thighs trembled.  Electric tingles flowed from her clit to
her toes and back again. They faded slowly and she let her breath out,
exhausted, and with that signal he started up again, slowly.  She heard the
slurping sound that meant there was no need for more butter.  Her orgasm had
slicked him with enough of her own juices to keep him wet for a long time.  He
increased the rhythm of his thrusts, intent on his own pleasure now.  She
watched his face with warm happy feelings of contentment.

     His cheek twitched, and then
his lips parted as he gasped.  He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through
his nose.  Victoria watched all the muscles of his shoulders, arms and chest
ripple with his exertion as he entered her and pulled out again and again.  The
bed shook, the wood supports scraped on the stone floor.  Her body bounced,
making her breasts wobble.  He grimaced and sucked air hard between his teeth
as he thrust deep again and again, then one more time, holding himself against
her hips as he shuddered his release.  He pushed two more times until he had
emptied himself.  He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.  They were yellow,
and he had a thick scar around his neck.

     Victoria blinked again and
found herself in her own bed in the upstairs bedroom of the lake house.  There
were no thick rafters or rough thatch above her, only the stippled coating of a
modern ceiling.  There was no handsome blacksmith driving a hard cock between
her legs.  She squirmed a little and felt a wet spot under her bottom.  She
touched herself and felt something more slick than her own juices. She rubbed
her fingers together.   Butter.  She shook her head. 
It can’t be
.  She
glanced at the window then at the glowing digital clock beside her bed.  After
midnight.  She swung her legs over and went to the bathroom cabinet and opened
it.  She took down the prescription bottle of a sedative the doctor had given
her after the rape.  She swallowed one without water and leaned against the
sink.

     She had the strange thought
that being crazy was better than being sane.  She looked at herself in the
mirror.  Certainly these sexual excursions were entertaining.  Her hair was
mussed and her make-up smeared.  More entertaining than real life. She took the
two steps to the shower and turned on the water.  As she washed herself she
tried to imagine washing away everything: the demon touch, the horror of the
morning in the elevator, and the embarrassment of the mall parking lot.  And
yet there were so many reasons to believe this was all as real as paying bills,
buying groceries and watching television talent shows while eating a microwaved
burrito.

     She toweled her hair and
rubbed her face.  But her demon had still not explained what it was that he
wanted.  He had said he needed a favor and then never asked for one.  She
stopped drying her leg.  What could he possibly want from her that he had not
already taken by force?  She hung the towel over the curtain rod and stepped
back into her bedroom.  She was able to fumble in her dresser drawer for a
nightgown without looking at it.  She slipped it over her head.  He appeared
whenever he pleased, then pleasured himself and left.  She had learned to enjoy
most of his visits, but did not feel that she
owed
him a favor.  If
anything, he owed her one.

     But what could a human woman
offer a demon?  She felt the warm cuddly sensation that told her the sedative
had entered her system.  She crawled between the sheets again, careful to avoid
the wet spot.  She closed her eyes and asked nicely for a good night’s sleep
with no interruptions.

     Her interruption came the next
afternoon in the form of a visit from her sister and two nephews.

     “Vicki.  Tell me.  How does it
feel to be rich?”  Sharon wiped the snotty nose of her two-year-old.

     Victoria sipped her green tea. 
She felt better today than she had in a long time.  It wasn’t just the
sedative.  Something had happened since the last encounter with the red demon. 
She shook her head to answer her sister.

     “I’m not that rich.  Come on.” 
She had signed a document promising not to reveal the size of the settlement. 
People imagined it was millions.  It wasn’t.

     Sharon set the little boy down
and watched as he ran off to torment his older brother.  The two little boys
smashed toy fire trucks together and laughed at the carnage.  “I know it is a
lot to ask, but maybe we could move in with you.”  Sharon glanced up at her.

     Victoria had expected
something was up.  “Did Mom put you up to this?”

     “Sort of.”  Sharon lifted her
own cup of tea.

     Victoria sighed.  “Does she
think I have gone crazy?”

     “Sort of.”  Sharon laughed. 
“She watched you at the depositions and says you are ‘not right’.”

     Victoria experienced the
unusual feeling of agreeing with her mother.  “What makes her think that living
with you and two energetic preschoolers will make me ‘right’?”

     Sharon shrugged.  “I can’t pay
my bills.  Bob isn’t sending child support regularly.  I already work two jobs
and day-care eats up most of what I earn.  I guess she just saw you alone with tons
of money and me like this and put two and two together.”

     Victoria was used to the way
her mother thought.  Everything was a puzzle that needed to be put together,
regardless of what anyone else wanted.  She sighed.  “Of course I will help you
out, Sharon, but I am not sure I am ready to live with these kids.”  The boys
had abandoned the car crashes and were now chasing each other, the fire trucks
had become clubs.

     “Me either,” Sharon sighed. 
“I always wanted kids.”  She grinned at Victoria.  “Before I had them.”

     Victoria knew she was
teasing.  Sharon loved her little boys.  But she nodded, remembering how she
had wanted things.  “When I was a teenager,” Victoria said, “I wanted a car. 
Then when I was eighteen, I wanted out of the house and away from Mom and
Frank.”  Victoria stretched out one leg and looked at the fuzzy slipper on her
foot.  “Then when I was in college I wanted to graduate.  After that I wanted a
job.  When I got the job I wanted my own office.  After that I wanted a raise.” 
She looked at Sharon.  “We always seem to want something we don’t have, and
once we get it we want something else.  It never ends.”

     “What do you want now,
Vickie?”  Sharon asked.

     Victoria sighed.  “I don’t
know.  Maybe not knowing what I should be wanting next is causing me so much
trouble.”

     Sharon asked, “Can we move
into the downstairs bedroom?”

     Victoria nodded absently. 
Maybe the presence of two boys under the age of five would keep the demon
away.  She glanced up at them, wrestling against the sofa like two puppies.  Or
maybe not.  She frowned.  If not, she would have to leave. The demon would
follow her.  She would not have him tormenting children with nightmares.  She
looked up at the ceiling.  “You owe me a favor, then,” she said.  She could not
say no to her sister and her mother.  Or the demon. Maybe that was her problem.

     “Yes.  A big favor.” Sharon
answered.

     Victoria let her sister think
she had spoken to her.

     That night she had coffee late
and sat alone in her bedroom listening to soft music.  She waited for him.  He
must know that her sister would be moving in next weekend.  He must have an
opinion.

     He did.  He appeared in a
flash of light in the corner.  This time he looked like a Roman soldier.  She
blinked her surprise, then laughed a little.  “Is this how we will be playing
this game?  Will this be a romp through history?”

     “Not a game, Victoria.”  He
was in a different body.  His eyes and hair were dark.  He was short and stocky
with powerful arms and an impressive chest.  It was a different body from the
Norseman or the blacksmith, but she recognized the yellow eyes and the strange
scar around his throat.  The leather skirt thing that Roman soldiers wore
covered the top of his corded thighs.  Leather sandals were wound around his
calves with thick straps up to his knees. She liked this body, but did not like
the tone of his voice.

     “You know about my sister?” 
She challenged him.

     “Yes.  She will not stay long
if I appear in her bedroom one night as the red one with the horns.  You should
have just sent her money.  I made sure you had plenty.”

     “My family thinks something is
wrong with me.”  She countered.  “They don’t want me to be alone.”

     “And yet you are not, are you
Victoria?”  He moved closer and Victoria found herself scooting away from him
toward the headboard.

     “You might not want someone
else to see you,” she challenged.

     “No one sees me unless I want
them to.”  His yellow eyes were hard.  He was angry.  “You are making this more
difficult than it has to be by involving your sister.”

     She tilted her head, ‘What do
you mean by ‘this’?”  She realized she was having an actual conversation with
the demon.  “The sex?”

     He stopped halfway across her
room.  His face was disappointed for a moment, then he appeared resigned. 
“Nothing Victoria?  Nothing yet?”

     She raised her eyebrows. 
“Amazing and exciting sex…what more?”  She looked hard at him.  He had never
demanded anything more than her body and the release of her will.  Always she
had been his passive plaything.  Her fear of him had kept her pliable and
contrite.  But now she felt some of that fear fade away.  The more he looked
like a man, the less he frightened her.  But those eyes.  The yellow eyes were
there to remind her in case she became too complaisant.  She would have to
learn to say no.

     “What about this?”  He strode
forward and extended his hand and she took it without thinking about saying
“no”.

     She stood beside him in a
large room.  Marble columns were spaced regularly throughout the large space. 
The walls were plaster and the floors polished stone, though you could hardly
see the floor.  Scattered from wall to wall were cushions and thick woven mats
and blankets.  On these cushions lay men and women on all ages, shapes and
sizes.  A second look revealed that only the
men
were all ages and
shapes and sizes.  Most of the women were young and beautiful.  There were a
few older ones, but they did not look like servants.  She quickly looked down
at herself.  She was smaller than usual and thinner.  Many colorful silk veils
covered her legs.  Tiny bells were sewn into the hems of the veils and tinkled
pleasantly when she moved.  Her breasts were bare, though she wore a gorgeous
heavy necklace that was more like a breastplate.  She fingered the blue and red
beads that made up the pattern that extended from shoulder to shoulder.