August 30, 2006
Fiction
Red And White
“I command thee, Malanok, appear.” Standing naked just outside the pentacle, she sent a silent prayer to whatever deity might be listening. This just had to work.
The smoke from the boundary candles was drawn into the pentacle and began to swirl, the vortex white, then red. The air grew thick with the scent of singed beeswax, sulfur, and, incongruously, cinnamon. She’d left the lights on, not wanting to accidentally kick a candle over in the darkness. Underneath the fluorescent lights, the scene was all too real. She’d used chalk from the grass tennis court to draw the pentacle on the plush gray carpet. Mrs. Huffstedder, the housekeeper, would have hysterics when she saw the mess. With any luck, Amy wouldn’t be here to deal with the fallout of her actions. She despised Mrs. Huffstedder, anyway. The bitch made regular reports to Amy’s father about Amy’s health.
Abruptly, the smoke vanished, revealing the demon. For a moment, his terrible beauty took her breath away. Crimson hair fell in loose waves down his back. Six-inch horns like ruby stilettos protruded from either side of his forehead. The skin on his upper body was pale as snow, but from the waist down, garnet red scales covered him. A gold chain encircled his narrow hips, holding a translucent white silk breechcloth in place. Her attention had only wandered for a moment, but it was long enough for him to stand and challenge the binding.
“Stop.” Desperation made Amy’s voice strong. “By the spell I have chanted, by the pentacle that holds you, I bid you obey.” The ritual words, so awkward when she first read them, crackled with power. She’d found the grimoire among the rare books she’d purchased at an estate sale several months ago. When she’d figured out what she had, her plan had burst into her brain like an aneurysm.
Malanok froze, kneeling inside the pentacle, awaiting her commands. The subservience was a pose; Amy had no doubt of that. The powerful muscles in his scaled thighs were tense, ready to spring. If she faltered, he’d be on her in an instant, and all her careful plans would be for naught. The grimoire said the demon Malanok possessed an almost human streak of curiosity. That was her strategy, to appeal to his curiosity and hope it was enough.
“I command only that you hear my request.” She felt like an impostor, standing naked in front of the demon. She was a research librarian, not a demonologist. Years of sermons, both from the pastor and her father, had ingrained the folly of deals with demonic entities into her mind. Faust hadn’t won; what on earth had given her the idea that she could do better? God, this was so absurd. How could she possibly succeed?
Blood-red eyes stared up at her, full of malice and derision. She’d failed so many times. Lyle, sleeping with Prince Valium in what should have been the nursery, was testament to that. Gathering her courage, she spoke, “I ask that you spend this night giving me sexual pleasure. In the hour before dawn, if I’m not already dead, please kill me.” It was midnight now, and the sun would break the horizon at 7:42. That should be more than enough time. Deliberately, she scuffed her foot across the chalked line of the pentacle, breaking the binding. Whatever happened tonight, happened. She would not coerce the demon.
Slowly, Malanok stood, a wary predator on guard for any hint of duplicity. Absently, he tucked an errant strand of hair behind one pointed ear. His slender, three-fingered hand was tipped with ruby-red talons. Stepping out of the pentacle, he faced her.
“I could rape you,” he said, his voice deep and harsh.
“No, you couldn’t.”
His eyes narrowed as he pondered her words. Finally, he asked, “And the worst I could do to you?”
“Walk away.” She held her breath, waiting for him to do just that, waiting to hear that her father called the shots even in Hell. This was her only chance. The servants were all on vacation, since she and Lyle weren’t expected back from their second honeymoon until two days from now. Mrs. Huffstedder would return tomorrow to get the house ready for their return. If Amy didn’t die tonight, she’d never again find the anger or the courage to set herself free. The thought of going back to her old life filled her with horror. Summoning Malanok might damn her, but she knew she’d lose her soul just as surely if she went back to being the old Amy.
A heavy silence filled the room to overflowing. Leisurely, the demon looked her up and down, measuring her worth. She knew she wasn’t ugly. She was slender because it was expected of her. Her dark brown hair was short and sleek, easy to care for. Though her face would never grace the cover of a fashion rag, neither would she stop any clocks.
“Please . . ..” she whispered.
She never saw him move. He grasped her arms and threw her to the floor, pinning her to the thick carpet with his body. Using his knees, he forced her legs apart, then reached down to remove his covering. Wrapping her legs around him, Amy bit her lip, drawing blood, the salty, coppery taste arousing her. With one savage thrust, he tore away her virginity. It was a brutal taking, the pain stunning her as Malanok rutted between her legs. But it was triumph that made her scream. He was so big and so deeply imbedded in her, Amy no longer knew where her body ended and his began. The labored beating of her heart terrified her, and she willed herself to live, to experience this night to the fullest.
He finished with one last cruel thrust.
“I’m not dead,” she said, breathlessly.
“Relax, I’m working on it. These things take time if they’re done properly.” Ignoring her murmured protest, he withdrew from her and stood, staring down at her with a puzzled expression. Sighing, he knelt and picked her up, cradling her body against his chest. As if she weighed no more than an infant, he carried her to the exquisitely carved four-poster bed that had been hers since the beginning of her sham of a marriage. Her life was a lie, her dreams of children, hollow.
Gently, Malanok placed her on top of the pastel pink satin coverlet. She hated the color, but her father had chosen it for her, just as he chose everything else in her life. The demon perched next to her on the edge of the bed. “Why?”
“Does it matter?”
“Perhaps.”
She sighed, feeling suddenly vulnerable before him. Pressing her legs together, she winced at the soreness and the stickiness of the blood and semen between her legs. “I have a congenital heart defect. The doctors say that any exertion, including sex, could send me into cardiac arrest. I got married two years ago. My father bribed my husband not to consummate the marriage.” It sounded so banal. “My mother died of a stroke when I was born. When my father found out about my heart, he kind of flipped out. He dedicated himself to the Lord and to keeping me alive, in that order.” Lyle had informed her that there would be no sex less than an hour after they had arrived in Hawaii for their honeymoon. Although they kept up the semblance of happiness in public, in private, they barely acknowledged each other’s existence. The habit of obedience, of never getting upset and alarming her father, had kept her from making a scene. “Everyone treats me like spun glass. I hate it. I’m done living, but I didn’t want to die a virgin.” She crossed her arms over her breasts.
Malanok caught both of her wrists in his hands and lifted them above her head. “I want to look at you.” He let his gaze drift downward across her body in an almost tangible caress.
Swallowing hard, she nodded. It was so strange, having a man look at her like this. She’d always thought of herself as shy, but lying naked in front of the demon was arousing her.
“Continue.”
With a shrug, she said, “I suppose I could have run away and picked up some stranger in a bar, but I wanted it to mean something.” Her father was willing to guarantee her husband twenty million dollars if she died a virgin, he certainly wasn’t above harming the man who eventually took her virginity. When she was twelve, she’d developed a crush on the son of one of the grounds keepers, the boy who’d given her her first kiss. He’d been injured when one of the mowers malfunctioned. At fifteen, she’d fallen in love for the first time, with a senior boy who’d seemed to share her feelings. He was killed when the brakes went out on his Corvette. Amy had been convinced it was her fault, that she was a sinner and a jinx. She’d been so sure marrying Lyle would break the jinx, because it was a union before God. Now, she wondered if her father had engineered the accidents.
“Does this night have meaning?” Malanok’s voice deepened when he asked the question, and his eyes bored into hers as though he was trying to see inside her mind. Demons were supposed to be soulless, but Malanok’s blood-red gaze was filled with curiosity, lust, and malice. The so-called ‘windows of the soul’ might not lead into a nice place, but it definitely didn’t feel like she was looking into an empty room.
She nodded, and said, “For the first time in my life, I control my destiny. Even if you had walked away, at least I tried.” It had taken her twenty-eight years to notice the cage she’d helped her build around herself. The freedom was heady, making her laugh with joy. Amy couldn’t remember a time when her damaged heart hadn’t sat like a rock in her chest. With just a little boost, she was sure she could fly. Laughing again, she reached up to lay her hand against his cheek. For just a moment, he pressed his face against her palm. She’d expected his flesh to be cool, even clammy, but he was hot, almost too hot for her to touch comfortably. Feeling bold, she traced his lips with her fingertip, wondering what it would be like to kiss him. The last person she’d ever kissed was Lyle, and that was the chaste kiss that had sealed their marriage vows. A virginal kiss to seal a celibate union. Why hadn’t she realized Lyle belonged to her father?
Malanok smiled, revealing sensuously sharp teeth. “You intrigue me, human. I promise, you will not live to see the dawn.”
A rush of hot tears filled her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Licking his lips, Malanok leaned down and kissed her belly. His tongue, the same shocking crimson as his hair, darted out and probed her navel. Amy gasped, clenching her fists in the feather pillows. He shifted until he was lying between her legs. Holding her breath, she watched as his head lowered and he kissed her pubic mound. Before she could form words for protest, his tongue was stroking her intimately. It was better than the romance novels said it was.
His mouth was a furnace, his tongue lashing her, pressing inside her. Her heart raced, and she felt a thin wire of pain snake up her left arm. Involuntarily, her arms came down and she clutched handfuls of his hair. It wasn’t coarse like a horse’s, as she’d imagined. Instead, it felt of mink. Moaning, she stroked her fingers through his glorious hair, finding his horns. Gently, she pinched and rubbed the horns, loving the crystalline texture. They seemed to tighten under her ministrations. Malanok growled low in his throat and leaned into her caress. No, she hadn’t imagined it, his horns were harder and sharper.
“Oh,” she said as she pricked her finger on one spiked peak, blood welling up from the tip of her index finger.
Lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl of pleasure, the demon crawled up over her body, positioning himself between her legs. Penetrating her with one hard thrust, he then held motionless, staring down at her with sultry eyes. She was surrounded by snow and cinnamon. “Put your finger in my mouth.”
She did as he commanded, whimpering at the erotic sensation of his tongue wrapping around her wounded finger. He lapped at the blood, drinking it down, claiming her blood as he’d claimed her body.
Letting her finger slip from his mouth, he gazed down at her, “You’re mine.” Not waiting for her to answer, he began thrusting, possessing her completely, branding her with the heat of his lust. His scales were rough against the insides of her thighs, exciting her unbearably. Moaning, she lifted her legs high, pressing him that much deeper inside her. With a wicked laugh, Malanok quit moving. Curling so that his lips could reach her breasts, he drew her right nipple into his mouth, suckling greedily. Amy squirmed beneath him, wanting to feel him move inside her. His teeth tugged at her nipple, and she felt a tingling surge of heat between her legs. She’d studied human sexuality in college, but the professor never mentioned a direct link from the nipple to the clitoris. Arching her back to give him better access put his left horn just in front of her mouth, the tip brushing her lips. She opened her mouth, taking the horn inside. Malanok’s whole body stiffened, and she was terrified he’d pull away. She held her breath, the horn cold as ice against her tongue.
After what seemed like forever, the demon relaxed against her, resuming his teasing torment of her nipples. The horn warmed, and she concentrated on enjoying the sensations bombarding her mind and body.
The texture of the horn in her mouth excited Amy. It was like pleasuring a living jewel. The razor sharp tip cut her tongue, filling her senses with the flavor of blood and rubies.
•
Languidly, A my stretched, feeling Malanok press even deeper inside her, his movements becoming rougher as his arousal peaked. She’d lost track of the number of times Malanok had taken her, but, finally, her overtaxed heart gave out, and the pain hit her like a blow. Her vision filled with the image of Malanok’s face, and her soul was wrapped in a cocoon of cinnamon. She climaxed as she died, shuddering between life and death for what seemed like hours. Finally, with a final burst of white light, consciousness left her.
“Wake up, lover.” The harsh voice was familiar.
Amy opened her eyes, shocked to find the demon leering at her. “But, I thought . . ..”
“Oh, you’re dead, all right.” Malanok held a hand out to her and she took it, allowing him to help her stand.
There was a ripping sensation inside her, and she looked around, startled. Her body lay on the bed, naked, legs spread obscenely.
The demon pulled her against him, his mouth covering hers in a searing kiss. The hot, slippery flesh stroking the inside of her mouth aroused her so quickly, she saw purple sparklies behind her eyelids. This was kissing—this warm, slick meshing of flesh to flesh? She’d never forgive those who’d conspired to keep her from feeling this.
When he tore his mouth from hers, pulling back slightly to let her catch her breath, she exhaled with a soft ‘oohh’, feeling her heart beating against her breast. “But, I’m breathing, I can feel my heart . . ..” Looking down at herself, she was stunned to see her familiar figure.
“Mmm, yes. When you broke the binding, you became mine forever. I get to choose the form.” He caught her lower lip between his teeth and bit gently. “I choose this one.”
Pushing her down onto the bed, he positioned her so that she was on her hands and knees staring into her own dead face. Entering her from behind, he took her with exquisite gentleness.
As she savored the pleasure, she felt all her old insecurities melt away. The corpse sharing the bed with them was no one she wanted to remember.
Crying out with a simultaneous climax, damned and demon collapsed onto the bed next to her body.
Amy gloried in the heavy weigh pressing her into the sweat-stained satin. “So what now?”
“What would you like?”
She shrugged, and squealed as he nipped her shoulder.
“Revenge?”
“Can we?”
“Making mortals miserable is in the job description.” He withdrew and helped her to sit up so her back was pressed against his chest. “Whom shall we start with?” As he spoke, he cupped her breasts, rubbing his thumbs across her nipples.
“Lyle.”
“Lyle?”
“M y husband, or perhaps I should say, my ex-husband. We did promise ‘‘til death do us part,’ after all.” The memories of his betrayal came back in a rush of fury. “He claimed to love me, said he didn’t want any of my money. He didn’t, he wanted Daddy’s money.” The hatred she’d carefully concealed for so many years bubbled from her soul like molten steel. “I trusted him, built my pathetic future around him. He has to pay.”
“Simplicity, lover.”
He stood, the delicate gold chain around his waist his only adornment. For the first time, Amy really looked at his erection. The demon’s cock was long and thick. The pale skin had a pattern of red scales running up from the base in an abstract flame design.
Raising an eyebrow at him, she said, “The fire is a nice touch.”
Arching his back to flaunt his member, he grinned at her, “I’ve always thought so.” He dressed and padded to the door, “I’ll be back in just a moment; perhaps you should find something to wear.”
She stood, and walked to her closet. Pushing the louvered doors open, she stepped inside and flipped the light on. “Sex or comfort?” She mused as she searched through her clothes.
Finally, she decided on a pair of indecently tight blue jeans and a black tank top.
“Honey, I’m home,” Malanok called, his voice obscenely cheerful.
Curious, she stepped out of the closet.
Malanok deposited Lyle’s naked form on top of Amy’s on the bed.
“No,” she said, pointing to the pentacle.
Grinning, he sketched a formal bow in her direction, and moved the bodies.
“It’s perfect,” she said, chuckling, “When they find him and wake him up, they’ll think he fucked me to death in some sort of bizarre Satanic ritual. He’ll never get Daddy’s money now.”
“I thought you’d like it.”
“I adore it. I adore you.” She flung herself into his arms.
He spun her around, laughing. “Whom shall we attend to next?”
“Doctor Bomengen. He’s the one who told my father I could never have sex. Then, perhaps, Mrs. Huffstedder.”
“And your father?”
“Relax, I’m working up to it.”
Laughing, he embraced her as they vanished in a swirl of cinnamon and brimstone.
• • •
writes erotic romance, horror, and fantasy. Currently, her work can be seen in the “Modern Magic” anthology, “Abyss & Apex” online magazine, “Tales of the Talisman” magazine, and “Forgotten World” magazine. She is owned by too many cats.
