Satan's Affair

But I refrained because none of them were evil—just callous.

Of all the people that passed through my dollhouse, none of them have the telltale rot emanating from them. Frustration grows, and I’m beginning to feel restless.

I want to feel blood soaking into my flesh, feel my knife cutting through sinew and muscle and tearing apart delicate skin. But I can’t just kill anyone. I refuse to kill innocents. I’m not an evil person.

I pace behind the walls, restlessness making my skin crawl. Mortis leaves his post at one point, feeling my shot nerves through the walls, and offers to lick my pussy just so I’ll calm down.

“I can’t be distracted!” I snap at him. His expression doesn’t change much, never one to be affected by my attitude. It’s one of the things I like most about him—his endurance for my mood swings.

The next thing I know, I’m being slammed against the wall opposite of where I can see the guests come through, with a hand wrapped tightly around my neck, and the other covering my mouth. Hot breath fans across my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

“Your pacing is going to attract attention if you don’t fucking stop. I can hear you on the other side of the house,” Mortis snaps harshly, his hand tightening around my throat until I can hardly breathe.

I wriggle against him, my anger rising like a wave in a storm. But the lust feels like a fucking tsunami. My chest heaves, though there’s nowhere for the oxygen to go.

The hand on my mouth slides away from my face, past the valley between my breasts and down my nightgown. When he reaches the edge of my dress, he hitches up the bottom and pauses.

“Make another noise, and I’ll tell the boys not to reward you with their cocks for a week, got it?”

I feel my face turning cherry red. Because there’s nowhere for the blood in my head to go. Because of his audacity, and the threat. Because I can’t fucking breathe. But mostly because I want him to fuck me already.

He lifts my head forward just to thump it harshly against the wall again. Hard enough for stars to glitter across my eyes and the little breath I had to escape. “Got it?” he repeats through bared teeth.

I nod my head, gritting my teeth against the storm of emotions swirling in my head.

“Good girl,” he whispers, easing up on my throat a fraction, just enough for me to get a good deep breath before he tightens it again.

His fingers trail up my thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. The mere seconds it takes for his fingers to reach the juncture between my thighs feels like forever. But when the tips of his fingers whisper across my clit—my legs nearly give out. My knees tremble. If it wasn’t for Mortis’s hand wrapped firmly around my throat, I’d be a puddle of lust and cream on the floor.

“Fuck,” he groans, dipping the tip of his middle finger in my pussy before spreading the cream up to my clit. “You’re so fucking wet.”

I open my mouth, but he thumps my head again before I can make a sound. “What did I just say? Not a single noise.”

I clamp my mouth shut, tightening my lips into a thin line. As if that’ll help. As if that’ll actually stop the moan resting in my throat, growing by the second.

His finger presses into the sensitive bundle of nerves, swirling around and sending intense pleasure throughout my entire body. I grind my pussy harder against his hand, frantic for the sensations he’s creating.

His finger circles faster against my clit. I struggle in his hold, desperately needing to breathe, but needing to come even more. His middle finger slides down to my opening and plunges deep inside me. I arch my back, and my eyes roll. His thumb continues the ministrations on my clit as he slips another finger inside me.

I’m fully gyrating into his hand now. My erratic movements cause the sharp talons on his fingers to dig into my throat. The sharp pinpricks heighten the agonizing bliss.

It takes a matter of moments for the coil in my stomach to snap and euphoria to render me boneless. I clamp my teeth down on my lips to keep quiet, squeezing my eyes shut tightly as I ride his hand, drawing out the orgasm crashing through me.

By the time I come down, Mortis has withdrawn his hand and I can breathe again. He keeps me upright now that my legs are jelly and useless against my weight. Small droplets of blood dot my dress, trailing from the tiny wounds on my neck, courtesy of Mortis’s talons. The sight brings a smile to my face.

It’s a wonder that he doesn’t cut up the inside of my pussy, but he’s always had perfect control of what he cuts.

Said talon pokes the underside of my chin, forcing my chin up until I’m looking into deep, soulful red eyes.

“You have the nose of a bloodhound. You’re not going to miss any demons that come through this house,” Mortis says, his tone a tad breathless, but stern.

I swallow and nod my head.

He kisses my lips softly, a stark contrast to his demeanor just minutes ago. Mortis may come off dry, but he’s capable of so much more emotion than even he realizes.

His tongue licks the seam of my lips, and I grant him access. He explores my mouth thoroughly for a moment before he wrenches himself away. His cock is pressing against my stomach, but we both know we don’t have time right now.

He has to get back to his post, and I need to keep an eye out for the demon.