A Demon’s Story: Part 6

Leave a comment

Part 5

It was a difficult task, killing my father.  A long, complicated process of reuniting with my family, luring them out for my father to attack, protecting them as he did so, all while gaining enough of my father’s trust before finally being in a position to blind side him and take his life.  Only now there was no one else to take his blood but me, so I did.  I killed him as I killed my daughter, although it was a little more difficult, for in hell all weapons are designed to kill demons whereas on earth not so much.

Fate must have been guiding my life since the day I was born, for among my adoptive family I counted a scion with precognitive dreams, and a fallen angel.  One had dreams that my father would return, and enlisted the help of the other in creating a weapon strong enough to kill him.  They would have failed in the end for they only would have cut him up and let him be, and in time he would have come back.  But I took the thrice-blessed angel blade that they had forged from them, and once I saw my chance I stabbed my dearest father in the heart.  I drank every last drop of blood that was in him and took all his strength, powers, and memories into myself, and at last I cut off his head.

That was almost two years ago.  And things have been relatively peaceful up until now.  I created this home for myself and the younglings on the land where my father ripped open the doorway to hell.  I live here to guard against it ever being opened again.  And as I watch over it, I raise and train the younglings in the ways of demon and mortal kind.  We have lived, loved, laughed and lost as family and friends do while trying to meld together these two very different world.  But it works for the most part.  Thing were quiet and peaceful.  We lay low during the day, learning and training, and I leave the young to rest at night and hunt with your bretheren.

But then you came along.  You crossed the water, thinking you’re king shit and you know what’s best for your people, trying to take over and rule the roost and disrupting the pace of our world.  Let me tell you a not so little secret right here and now warriors: you don’t know jack.

Now for what it’s worth I’m sorry we had to meet like this.  Spiriting you away against your will and holding you in my home during the time of day that you are most vulnerable was not entirely fair I’ll admit, but would you have bothered to listen had I done it any other way?

So, you asked me who I was.  I’ve told you that and much more than you were willing or wanting to hear, but you needed to know to understand why I chose to act as I did.  I brought you here to tell you my story.  To tell you why the path you have chosen is the wrong one.  You choose to battle against your brethren when you have a greater foe, and when the survival of your race means the survival of so many more.

Do you not see the road of death and destruction you walk?  If you do not stop now, the two sides will be too busy fighting each other to defend against the true threat.  One side will wipe the other out, leaving the survivors vulnerable to that threat, else you’ll both be wiped out together because you’re do damned blind and stubborn to see the truth!

I know you don’t believe me.  I can see it in your eyes, despite the oath I swore before.  Which is fine, I figured you wouldn’t.  My tale is indeed a strange one, but I don’t think you have taken one very important fact into consideration.

Demons are long lived creatures.  The only true way to kill us is to destroy our hearts as well as our heads, and drain our blood into another living demon.  The demon who absorbs or drinks this blood, in turn gains all the memories, power, and strength of the demon that has died.  My father was a duke of hell, second only in power to the princes who rule the realms.  He had lived millennia by stealing, killing, plotting and planning.  And the thing you are forgetting mortals, is that I killed him.  I, a half breed demon only two millennia old, killed a duke of hell.  I was smarter, more cunning, and more manipulative than him.  I killed him, and too all that he was into me.

So now, my quivering mortal friends, do you see where I am going with this?  I am no longer the mewling demon or half mortal creature that my father bred years ago.  If ever I chose to return to hell, I would be given a place at the right hand of my prince there and become the new duchess of the realm of Lust.  I am powerful and stronger beyond your ken you stupid stubborn bastards.  I could have easily wiped you all out without breaking a sweat but I haven’t.  Instead I brought you to my home, fed you, gave you warm beds to rest in and told you my story not because I felt it was needed, but because I wanted to.

I want peace between you and the brethren you fight against.  I want the future I have seen in my dreams every night since you crossed the water not to come true.  For as much as I am and call myself a demon, I am as much the child of my mortal mother as my father, and I do not want to see this world fall into ruin because two sides are waving their dicks around trying to see who’s is bigger.

But enough talk for now.  I grow weary and the day grows short.  There is nothing more I can say to convince you of the truth, and so for now I will leave you.  Think on what I have said, take part and enjoy the hospitality of my home, and once the sun sets you will be free to leave.

I only hope that when you do, you remember my words.  Remember them, and remember that it is not just your lives hanging in the balance.

Advertisements

A Demon’s Story: Part 5

2 Comments

Part 4

I couldn’t kill her at first of course.  She was my daughter after all, and despite how strongly I felt it had to be done, it took much to screw up my courage and take that step.  And then of course once I prepared to do it, I had to plan it all.  The how, why, when, who would clean up afterwards, it was all quite tedious.

In the end I decided to go the straight and simple route.  The weapon was easy enough to come by, for all things made in hell are made to kill those who dwell in the realms.  I stabbed her in the heart, sending her into the demonic equivalent of a coma.  While she was out, I had the twins drink her blood and drain her dry.  Then I cut off her head.  It’s the only way to truly kill a demon and ensure they remain dead.  Destroy the head and heart of a mortal creature, they die.  Destroy the head and heart of an immortal, and you merely incapacitate them for a time for even with those wounds a demon can still heal and come back so long as they keep their blood.

Blood is everything as you know. It is strength, it is life, and without it not even immortals can survive.  And with demons, when we take the life force of another demon into ourselves so completely, we take in all that the other being was, melding with it and tying that life force and all the strength accompanying it with our own.  In such a way does one become stronger and more powerful.  The older and more battle weary a demon, the stronger they are for the more demonic foes they have vanquished and taken their strength.

The method is simple, the theory behind it….less so.

So while my hand was the one that dealt the damage, the younglings were the ones to reap from it for they drank from and of her and gained her strength, and my father congratulated me.  Sly, smug, devious bastard that he was.  He left her alive on purpose, for a reason.  She was to be my final test, and I apparently passed it with flying colors.

Demons treat their spawn as chattel, fodder, unnecessary and unworthy of any kind of attention until they prove their strength, usually by killing another.  Then they are called younglings, worth keeping half an eye on for they have turned out not to be completely useless.  After a few more centuries, they are upgraded to yearlings, strong enough to survive and worth something to train to become full grown demons.

Mortals obviously are more attached to their young than demons, and I was no exception for I was born to and raised as a mortal.  My father knew this, for he was able to see into me to some degree though much of my soul remained hidden from him thanks to the demon blood he gave me.  And so he allowed her to live with every thought and intention that I be the one to take her life.  He considered it to be my final test, the act that showed him that I had been fully corrupted and could be brought back to the mortal world to fulfill his vision.

And he was right, in a fashion.  I was corrupted.  The things I had seen and done to survive in hell…I don’t think I will ever be able to scrub my soul clean.  But what my father didn’t know eventually killed him.  If I hadn’t been born and raised mortal, with mortal ideas and values, his plan might have worked.  But as it was I had friends and family here on the mortal realm, and it was them that kept me from going mad and losing myself entirely to the darkness and insanity of hell.  I kept them in my heart and they helped me to keep my mind, if not my very soul.

Yeah, go ahead and laugh.  Don’t think I don’t see those smirks you’re giving each other.  I realize exactly how corny that sentiment is, but it’s true.  It was only the thought of those who took me in, cared for me, and called me ‘sister’ that kept my father from achieving his goal.

Oh and what a goal it was.  My father intended for me to return here and kill those I considered kith and kin, and once they were dispatched I was to continue on and wipe out the rest of your species.  Rather apropos don’t you think?  Having me wipe you the very race that took me in and raised me up?  Either that or its irony.  I can never remember which.

Surprised are you? Well don’t be.  You should have guessed by now that your battles against your enemies are more than a mere race war.  It’s one of the keys to the apocalypse itself.

Don’t get me wrong, humans are the ultimate deciding factor in the when, where and how of the end of the world, but there are so many other things to take into consideration that affect the humans in making their decisions, and wiping out your species is one of them.  It’s set to speed up the doomsday clock considerably for your enemies feed on humans.  And if there is nothing to hold them in check, what is to stop them from running wild and killing those humans who are important to the fate of the world.

Think of it this way.  A woman is in danger, threatened by your enemies.  Should you intervene, her bloodline will rise up to save humanity from another great plague, the likes of which has not been seen since the Middle Ages.  But if you are not there to save her and she dies her descendants never exist. Mortal lives are little more than dominoes in terms of fate.  Knock on down and the rest follow.  Take one out or add one in and the collapse is slowed, or stopped altogether.

So, long story short, I finally learned of the master plan my father had been concocting for millennia.  Breed, train, and raise up a demon powerful enough to wipe out an entire race.  Needless to say, things didn’t work out exactly as he planned.

Part 6

A Demon’s Story: Part 4

2 Comments

Part 3

So as I have said before, my breeding tends to run more towards my demonic heritage rather than mortal.  As a result I have no problem identifying myself as a demon for that is mostly what I am biologically, thought I don’t act like one.

The spawn I bore in hell for the most part were no different.  They were three quarters demon after all.  But I noticed with some of them that their human heritage showed through for they were born with mortal souls.  It is for those I feel the most sorrow for in the dark of night when my dreams and nightmares decide to not give me peace.  They were the ones who truly had hope, for they were born innocent and mortal.  If they had not been born in hell, they may have lived good, full lives.

I lost count of how many I bore, but I remember the last.  My time in hell was, unbeknownst to me, halfway through, and my father felt me sufficiently broken in mind and body to begin my training properly.  My child was born shortly after my training began and my father allowed her to live.  I didn’t know why at the time, but as they say time makes fools of us all and I was foolish for not seeing what would come of that.

I won’t go into details on what I went through for my training, for those are long and mostly boring.  Suffice to say he taught me much, honed my skills, and made me stronger.  I think I grew in his favor, or else he was searching for more ways to bend and twist my soul into darkness, for he even made a few gifts to me.  They were few and far between and I destroyed most of them or left them behind in hell when I left, but for one.

It is common for demon lords to own lesser demons from other plains as slaves.  Demons hold the market on the superiority complex, each thinking they are the best and set over the others.  It is also common  for demons to make gifts of their kin in an attempt to either curry favor, or plant spies and assassins the the house of their enemies.  I had little fear of the latter happening, for my father needed me alive, but the former was a given for me as he needed to know if I was truly heading into the direction he wanted me to go.  So when he gifted me with a pair of slaves for my own, I was not surprised.

He presented me with Cinder and Ember, twin imp demons from the realm of Greed.  Of course that is not their real names, but an abbreviation that makes it faster to speak in deamonic and easier for mortal tongues to pronounce.  They were a common enough gift, for in most of the realms in hell imps are favored not only because they are small, quick and crafty, but also for their body parts which serve double duty as spell components and favored dishes.  The twins as I have grow to call them, were unremarkable when it comes to imp demons.  More wings than body, spindly arms and legs, sharp little faces and beady little eyes, Cinder and Ember were typical in every way, until I brought them topside.

They were given to me as younglings to raise and train on my own, another test of my father’s to see how well his training was rubbing off on me.  So we continued on like that, I training the younglings, my father training me, and my daughter living and growing and learning amongst us.

I swore long ago that I would never speak her name, so I will not say it now.  At first I thought that in forgetting her name I would make what happened less real.  But nothing would make what happened, or what I did, any less real.

I had hope for my child at first, despite her bloodlines, for with my human blood I saw something in her that was unique in demons.  I saw an aura around her which gave me that hope, for it showed me that at least some part of her was mortal and there was a chance to save her if I could keep her alive that long.  I did what I could to subvert the darkness around the both of us that threatened to consume her, to try and save her, but I failed.

Day by day, little by little, I saw the brightness in her aura fade until there was nothing left.  And when an aura fades from a person, there is nothing human left in them.  I knew my daughter was lost to me, and I could not leave her in the hands of my father so I took her from him.

Part 5

A Demon’s Story: Part 3

2 Comments

Part 2

So anyway, I lived on the streets like that for several years before I stumbled across one of yours mute, amnesiac, and naked in a gutter.  Long story short, I took the boy under my wind and got him back to his people.  Eventually they took me in as well and I lived in relative peace with them, learning more about myself through trial, error, research and discussion.  And for a time, all was well in my world.

But all good things must come to an end, and one day my father rather forcibly came calling.  Seems daddy dearest sensed my growing strength and decided he wanted to be a little more hands on with my training.  So he broke into our home and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.  Come peacefully with him, or watch him kill everyone I had learned to care about.  Slowly.

Needless to say it wasn’t a hard choice, but I wasn’t stupid either.  I knew if I agreed blindly he would only come back to kill them later.  But I gambled on the fact that my father needed me willing and pliable more than he needed me fighting, and I won.  I had learned enough in my research to exact an oath from him to leave them in peace, which I think is the only reason they’re all still alive today.

So I backed the old man into a corner, he swore his oath, and he took me to hell.

See, my father was, for lack of a better term, a duke of hell, most specifically the fifth circle of hell designated to the sin of lust.

Like I said before, the Christians got it mostly right when they described hell.  The Maker did create everything, heaven, hell, earth, and angels, but not all at the same time.  At first there was only heaven and earth, angels and humans.  There was a rebellion.  Lucifer led the charge with six others: Mammon, Asmodeus, Sataan, Beelzebub, Leviathan, and Belphegor.  They were all cast down into hell which was created originally to serve as their prison, and over the centuries came to serve as a prison for all damned souls.

The Maker imprisoned each of the fallen angels in their own part of hell; each part dedicated one of the seven sins.  Belphegor was given Sloth, the first and least of the sins, followed by Leviathan with Envy, Beelzebub with Gluttony, Staan with Wrath, Asmodeus with Lust, Mammon with Greed, and set above them all in the last and worst of all sins, Lucifer with Pride.  He twisted them into dark, corrupted forms more fitting their nature and as a result created the first demons.  The Maker also decided that hell would serve as a prison for all dark souls, each sent to a different level depending on their sins.  And from these souls the princes chose the darkest and most twisted in each of their realms to become a duke and serve as the prince’s right hand in the hells as well as on earth.

And the thing you need to keep in mind is that the Maker is really big on balance.  Heaven and earth were meant to mirror each other: mortal and eternal paradise.  But when he created hell, he needed to adjust everything.  So hell was created to be the mirrored, polar opposite of heaven, and earth was then to be the bridge between the two.  A mix of both good and bad.

Now then, the princes are eternally bound to their kingdoms, the Maker saw to that.  And normally demons can’t cross over willy nilly either.  It takes an open door or a stupid human with a little magic for demons to cross the border.  But my father was a clever bastard and managed to tear a hole between Lust and earth and secure it for his own personal needs.  I still don’t know how the fucker did it; I just know that I was able to seal it.  At least temporarily.

Anyways, for centuries he had been running back and forth, raping powerful female psychics in an attempt to breed a new kind of demon that could live both in hell as well as on earth, one that he could train to be his own personal general in a doomsday army.  Cliché, I know, but what else do you expect from demons?  It’s in the blood, their very nature is chaos and destruction, and we’re all born with a very special talent.

You see, when the Maker created the world, he decided how it would end.  When he created humans, he decided humans would be the key to when doomsday happens.  When he created demons, they began to corrupt the humans, thus setting into motion the eternal contest.  Whether it was intentional or not is moot.  The point is that now angels and demons fight over souls, and more often than not those are the very souls that can hasten or impede the end of the world by the length of a century or more.

When hell was first created, he gave angels the gift of this sight in order to properly judge the souls and send them to their eternal salvation or damnation.  But, this gave the angels an advantage over the demons when it came to saving the vulnerable souls, so he gave it to the demons as well.  Both sides would know where to pick and prod at the soul to bend them to their will; it would be solely up to the resolve of the human as to whether or not they fell to the outside will.  Balance and free will and all that crap.

So demons and angels know how the world will end, but that how changes all the time as souls are damned or saved.  But in one such ‘vision’ let’s call them; my father saw a demon/human half breed hybrid of his blood leading an army of hell against the world and speeding up the apocalypse by millennia.  These visions led him to potential mates that would be suitable to breed such a hybrid and one time he lucked out and got me.

But as you can guess my father was not the parental sort, and it is not in the nature of demons to care for their spawn or offspring until they show some use or potential.  My father was no different.  He impregnated my mother, placed a blood binding on me, and left us to our own devices until my powers awoke in me to sufficient amounts that the binding was alerted and he took notice of me once more and came to reclaim me and train me in hell.

I look young, but I am far, far older than all of you combined.  In your time, I only spent two years in hell.  But time runs differently between the realms.  One year here on earth, one year of a mortal’s lifespan, is the equivalent to one millennium, one thousand years in heaven or hell.  I lucked out on genetics roulette and I bred more true to my demonic heritage than human.

I…cannot begin to describe hell to you.  It is different for everyone, for again, each person is sent to the circle representing the sin they are most guilty of, and there they are tortured for eternity by whatever it is that they fear or loathe most in the world.  It is designed to break you and make you suffer to the utmost mentally and physically for all eternity.

For me, I was not punished for I was not damned.  Instead, I went through ‘training’.  Which basically means for the first thousand years or so I was the personal cum bucket for anything with a dick or a twat that took notice of me, including my own father.

Oh please.  Don’t look so surprised.  You really think it would have happened any other way?  That being imprisoned in the realm of lust I would have been unmolested for my entire stay there?  Either you’re incredibly hopeful or incredibly stupid.

My father’s intent during that time was to break me so he could remake me.  So physically, he gave my body to whoever wanted it, and took it when he was bored.  But such actions always come with consequences, and he used those against me too.

I was impregnated.  Frequently.  I actually lost count at one point.  I was more fertile than a demon, and had a faster gestation rate for my spawn than a human.  Sometimes they had contests to see how many times they could impregnate me in a decade.  The spawn I bore…my father devised various fates for them.  A few were given as slave gifts before being raped, killed and eaten.  Sometimes they strapped me down and tore into my belly as my time came near and pulled the creature from me before ripping it apart or feasting on it.  Once several of them lived to be fattened like cattle before being served at a feast for.  Most were torn apart in front of my eyes even as we screamed in the agonies of birth.  And one…one was allowed to live.  Until I killed her.

Part 4

A Demon’s Story: Part 2

2 Comments

Part 1

It was years before I realized there is a name for creatures like me, half human half demon spawn: Cambions.  From what my mother told me I figured my father was likely an Incubus demon, a male demon who raped women in their sleep, a demon of lust, sex, and desire from the second circle of hell.  That made me half Succubus, the female counterpart to the Incubus demon.

Surprisingly enough, the humans got a lot of it right.  If you look at Christianity, they claim there are nine levels of hell, ruled over by seven demon princes, all of whom were once angels but when they rebelled against heaven they were cast down for their sins and the one who lead them to rebellion was given to rule over them in the realm of pain and suffering they found themselves bound to.

But that knowledge was long in coming.  First I was sent into foster care since I had no other blood relatives-at least none that could be found-and I shared the fate of many other human fosterlings, bouncing from home to home for a few years before I finally ran off and started living on the streets.

It was equal parts harder and easier for me than most living on the streets I think.  Owing to my dual nature I had been born with dual abilities.  From my mother I gained the ability to see auras, and from my father the ability to see a mortal’s soul.  And yes, there is a difference.  Auras are like halos of color outlining a person and those colors can tell you the most basic things about what kind of person you are, whether you are kind, violent, greedy, or what not.  But reading an aura is like reading a summarized version of a soul.

Souls are obviously larger and more complex than auras.  Where auras are halos of shifting color and light, souls are like…well for lack of a better analogy they’re like glasses of milk filled with a multitude of food color droplets in every shade you can think of.  The glass is the body that houses the soul, the milk is the essence of the soul itself, and the food color droplets represent every personality trait, quirk, emotion and psychosis you can name.  It’s the closest you can get to mind reading without digging around in someone’s brain.

The only problem with souls is that’s all you can see when you look at a person.  Just like looking at a glass of milk where you see the outlines of the glass, so too when I look at anything human I don’t see what they are, but who they are.  I see humanoid shapes of white enveloping these swirling kaleidoscopes of color with vague markings for mouths, eyes, and nose.

And no, I don’t have anything like xray vision either jerks.  The less clothing you wear the more of your soul I see, but if it wasn’t for photographs and mirrors I wouldn’t know what anyone looks like.  Pervs.

So anyway, that nifty little genetic quirk of mine made it easier on me because I could spot the bad ones a mile off and steer clear.  I was also able to find the good ones to help me fill my belly and warm my nights with an extra blanket or two.

The hardest thing about being on the street was that the bad ones were constantly drawn to me until I figured out to keep my eyes covered.  You see, demons are long lived creature.  Eternal actually, so long as they keep certain body parts whole and intact.  So for me when my home caught on fire that was a grossly abnormal manifestation of my powers.  Imagine a human infant, still in the womb, having the intelligence and communicative skills to win a Nobel Peace Prize and you’ll come close to how much of an abomination I was.

As a result I had these powers that I had to learn to control quickly.  And that’s a little bit easier said than done when you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing in the first place.

One latent ability of a succubus is the ability to attract men via…fuck… anything really.  Looks, scents, body language, you name it a succubus can do it and it screams ‘Fuck Me’ in bright flashing neon letters as it does so.  But each succubus specializes in one form of seduction.  And unbeknownst to me, my specialty was my eyes.

When my powers manifested for the first time that night, not only were many of my demon abilities switched to ‘on’ or ‘standby’, one physical demonic characteristic broke through the human breeding: solid gemstone colored eyes.  You know that show Supernatural?  The one where the two brothers drive around the country killing monsters and demons?  No?  Ah well, it’s a really good show and one thing they got semi-right about demons was the eyes.

Demons are identifiable by their solid black eyes in the show, all pupil, no iris or whites.  In reality, demons so have solid colored eyes, albeit not always black.  Mine are emerald green.  Some are ruby red, sapphire blue, cobalt grey, so on and so forth.  The colors run the spectrum of every precious and semi-precious stone, metal, and mineral you can think of, along with their hair tones.  I think it has something to do with corrupting angels by being so close to earth.  Angels generally have white or silver eyes and normal hair tones.

Anyways my specialization as I was saying is my eyes and the looks I give men.  It is something I can control, but it was turned on the night of the fire and it took me years to figure out what was going on and how to turn it off at will.  But like I said, at first I didn’t know.  I was going around, minding my own business, but every time I looked a man in the eyes he was fucked.  I was sending out this…visual pheromone and I didn’t even know it.

So while I saw the bad ones coming, sometimes it wasn’t before they saw me so I spent a lot of time moving around.  Eventually I caught on to what was going on, and the first thing I did was score some thick, dark shades to hide my eyes.  No eye contact, no problem.  It took me longer to figure out the off switch so I could walk around like a relatively normal person, but it happened.

Okay you can stop looking at me like that.

Like I’m a snake that’s about to bite you!  Never mind the fact that the laws of hospitality forbid me from using any of my powers on you outside of self defense, have you not noticed I have not taken my sunglasses off since you walked through my door?  So long as our eyes do not meet, you’re safe so stop fidgeting around like your pants are on fire.

Besides, the best way to tell if I’ve worked that part of my mojo on you is to ask yourself if you would be willing to follow me into hell.  And I’m not talking the figurative hell that most of you mortals speak of.  Hell is real.  It is not fun.  I should know, I was broken there and remade in my father’s image.

Part 3

A Demon’s Story: Part 1

1 Comment

My name?  Ugh.  Why do you want to know that?  Isn’t it enough to know that I am intelligent, charming, beautiful, capable-

Oh don’t look at me like that.  You know I’m just playing around.

Fine then Mr. Killjoy.  My name is Katarina Esmerelda Daemonova.  Try saying that three times fast.  Now whether or not that is the name I was born with makes no difference.  It is who I am now and who I have been for a long, long time.

Now the first thing you need to understand is that my species is bound by laws far older than your precious goddess, one of them being when I swear an oath I cannot break it.  And so I will swear one to you now in hopes of limiting your disbelief to the tale I am to tell.  I don’t have time to waste in trying to convince you so I swear on blood and brimstone that everything I am about to tell you about myself and the younglings is true.  And I pray to the Maker that I am not wasting my breath.

I was born here, in this city to a human female who just so happened to be the most powerful psychic of her time of which I picked up more than a few of her gifts.  But as these things go such power always comes with a cost.  For as long as I knew her my mother was bat crap crazy.  Where most psychics could filter out the ambient thoughts and emotions they picked up from other people, my mother had no such filter and was constantly barraged with foreign dialogue and feelings and as s result she frequently broke from reality and saw things considered crazy even for someone of her talents.  And from the moment I was able to comprehend the meaning of the words, she claimed my father was a demon.

She said he visited her in her sleep a night for years, courting her, seducing her, before he turned and started torturing her.  He waited for her to hate him, for her mind to snap from the strain before he raped her.  Of course at first I just this up to a standard issue case of the mommy crazies, until the night I burned our house down.

Mother never had good taste in men.  To be fair crazy never does.  She went through a steady stream of drunkards, bastards, and abusers, but the last one she had was the worst.  I’ll spare you the gory details and fast forward to the main event.  After living with the fucker for a year, he decided to crawl into bed with me one night.  I was eight years old.  I didn’t know what was happening; I only knew I wanted it to stop.

What, are you surprised by that?  Did you honestly think that my childhood was all rainbows and cupcake shitting unicorns?  Please.  You of all people know that little in this world is good, and few go through life without a few scars or tales to tell.

And if you fucking look at me like that again I’ll rip your fucking eyes out.  I don’t need your pity.  My life is just that.  Mine.  For good, bad or indifferent it’s all shaped me to who I am now and I’ll be damned if I let anyone make me feel ashamed of it.

I still don’t know exactly how it happened.  One minute I was lying naked underneath him, my eyes squeezed shut against what was happening, and the next thing I knew he had leapt off me screaming in agony, slapping at the flames that danced across his bare flesh as he flailed around the room.  I looked around for the source of the flames, and realized they were coming from me.  My flesh was on fire too, but it wasn’t burning and I felt no heat, no pain.

Even then I think things would have been okay because my bed itself wasn’t burning either, so I think it was his flailing that did it really.  He spread the flames even as he tried to put them out.  The fire spread so fast, igniting in spots everywhere as bits of burning flesh dropped off him.  I don’t think my mother woke from the stupor her latest round of anti-psychotics had put her in.  That thought comforts me at night sometimes, knowing that she didn’t wake, she didn’t suffer, she didn’t know.

My mother was unstable, psychotic, and crazy and had lousy taste in men but she tried her damnedest to be a good mom.  She fought what she heard and saw to protect me, tried every kind of drug under the sun to make the voices stop, and to this day I think she told me about my patronage in an attempt to arm me to defend myself.  I think she saw what was coming but couldn’t trust herself on whether it was real or imagined.

Everyone said it was a miracle the fire didn’t spread any farther than our house.  That I was lucky to be alive, naked and stained with soot when I was found just outside the smoldering ruins without a mark on me.  But I knew differently.  It was then that I knew that what my mother told me was true.  I was the child of a demon.

Part 2

One Night

Leave a comment

He was feeling vulnerable just then, cuffed spread eagle to the bed as he was.  He was at her mercy and they both knew it.  He was afraid, but excited.  He could normally tell her mood from the cloth she used to bind him, but today she had thrown him a curve ball: handcuffs.  So instead he explored the material that covered the cold steel by rotating his wrists and ankles in hopes of identifying it.  But aside from discerning that the cuffs were firmly in place, he couldn’t tell anything else about that which bound him.

Lying still, he allowed himself to relax as much as possible, waiting for her.  Even though he couldn’t see through the cloth around his eyes, he knew she was still in the room, he could feel her presence though she made no noise or movement.  So he lay there, waiting, listening, straining his senses to try and locate her.

Then, just as he was beginning to wonder if maybe he was wrong, maybe she had left, he felt her fingers lightly brush the bottom of his foot.  The touch was feather light, and he shivered.  Her fingers slowly traced the contours of his foot, and slowly-oh so slowly-traveled up his leg.  His skin tingled with every inch her fingers covered, trailing bits of warmth that too quickly dissipated.

It seemed an age and an instant until her fingers reached his hip, and here they played across his lower stomach and pelvis a moment before continuing up, taking even more time as they danced across his stomach and chest.  Soon enough a second pair of fingers joined the first, and his breathing came a little more quickly now, his skin a bit flushed and only grew warmer as her hands began to stroke and caress every inch of his body.

Chest, arms, neck, nothing was left unscrutinized, unexplored by those soft, pleasantly warm hands.  Even the contours of his face were not neglected as she gently caressed his lips and stroked his face.  His body trembled as he fought to hold still when her hands returned to his chest and he suddenly felt the moist softness of her lips join the dance.

Her lips now followed the path her hands had taken before them as she began kissing him.  Her hands continued to travel, unnoticed, until they began to circle and caress his nipples.  His body started to writhe as she continued her exquisite torture of his body, then he felt wetness envelop one nipple and he gasped as she swirled her tongue around, gently suckling and nibbling on the one before moving onto the other.  He arched his back and moaned, then heard a soft, husky voice whisper in his ear.

“Easy love.  You have given me much pleasure.  Now it’s my turn.  Just lie back and enjoy.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced as her lips met his.  Their tongues explored each other’s mouths, and she tasted so sweet to him.  Breaking the kiss, she returned to her torment, only this time her hands were still as her lips and tongue danced slowly but purposefully down his chest, down his stomach, moving ever lower…

This was going to be a long, fun night.

Whatever

THIS MACHINE MOCKS FASCISTS

Kim Harrison

The View From My Office

You've Been Hooked!

Observations from the trenches....

Michael Cargill

Regular updates of sarcastic and irreverent nonsense.

The Daily Post

The Art and Craft of Blogging

Emmie Mears

Worldweaving.

www. Newbie DM .com

An Ennie Nominated D&D Blog & Podcast. Home of tutorials, advice, and downloads for new DM's

Whuffie's Dragon Age Blog

Mods, Fan Fiction, Tuturials, Toolset, Reviews, Screenshots & More

knightowl123

A blog about Dragon Age owned by BioWare/EA. This is my Dragon Age Fan Fiction Blog. Please be aware this blog will have mature content.

Forgotten Realms Queen

Reviews, ramblings, fan fic and more!