Page 30 of The River of Fire

Looking around, I see that the gathered demons paused their conversations, food still halfway to mouths in some instances, all eyes wide and waiting to see what their Lord does next.

Once he has my attention again, he tears the loose pants I’m wearing down the middle and mercilessly disposes of the remaining tatters. The lower half of my body is completely naked and as he spreads my legs wide, I feel air hitting the drenched folds of my pussy.

I whimper and look at the only other person who has a clear view of the private space at the apex of my thighs – Sariel. My tormentor’s son is gazing at the wet flesh, breathing heavily and fisting his hands in his lap, as if making sure they don’t reach out to touch his father’s pet.

The sight sets my blood on fire, but I don’t get to fantasize too long before a thud signifies Ashtaroth sitting down on my chair, my feet now resting on both armrests.

“I find the meal my chefs prepared to be unsatisfactory,” he says in a mocking tone, and I realize it’s the first thing he’s said since I entered the hall. The crowd laughs.

He reaches between my legs, knuckles caressing the inside of my thighs, making goosebumps spread in their wake. Once he reaches his quarry, he uses his thumbs to spread my inner lips, making Sariel growl as my entrance is exposed.

My breath catches in my throat with an embarrassingly loud noise and Ashtaroth takes his eyes off my center just long enough for his imperious gaze to meet mine. Then he descends on my flesh, mouth open to encompass my pussy from clitoris to entrance. He gently drags his bottom teeth up, grazing sensitive skin until his lips close over my clit, where he sucks.

My back arches off the table and I moan, the sound echoing in the once again silent hall. Although seeing the room upside down, I can still notice his guests starting to jolt into action as if given permission, grabbing a partner – or more than one – the sounds of clothes being torn and shucked away joining thewhooshing in my ears.

I look back at the gorgeous beast between my legs, the tip of his tongue now swirling around my clit, his eyes alight with depraved glee. Gaze still holding mine, he pushes one of his long fingers into my channel, pumping once, twice, before he adds another finger and spreads them inside me.

“Ah!” I yelp on an outburst of air and hear a commotion at our table.

It’s Sariel. The sight of his father’s fingers moving inside me must have pushed him over the edge of control, as his chair is now on the ground and he’s in the process of pulling Armaros up by the front of his shirt.

The surprised look on Armaros’ face is almost comical and Sariel spins and pushes him to the floor on his hands and knees. Before Armaros can make a move in reaction, his trousers are pulled down, and pulling on one of his ass cheeks to open him, Sariel enters him in one thrust.

The cruel entrance makes Armaros scream louder than the noise of wet slapping flesh and groans of ecstasy now permeating the dining hall. Sariel just growls like being inside a tight and warm hole is the salvation he desperately needs.

Ashtaroth, now leaning back in the chair and slowly fucking me with his fingers, is observing his son taking the other demon roughly and laughs in twisted triumph. I realize now that this was his plan from the start, ever since he noticed Sariel observing me, noticed me enjoying the attention. Maybe even earlier than that.

I don’t know if the public spectacle was engineered to punish or pleasure either of us and all I can think is that it was me – my body and my pleasure turning the dinner into an orgy, making two gorgeous fallen angels fuck on the floor with a violence I wouldn’t survive. It’s a heady feeling that speaks to my darker side, and I can’t help arching like a lazy cat, my arms coming up to rest near my head, lust drunk and thinking only of gratification.

I open my eyes with a needy whimper of protest as thepleasurable sensations between my legs cease, and see Ashtaroth leaning over me, one hand unclasping his trousers to free himself.

My breath is shaky for another reason now, because, of course, of course I’m not safe with him. Even when he’s making me feel good, I’m always at his nonexistent mercy.

“Shh,” he whispers, his thumb pushing on my trembling lower lip and then inside my mouth, making me taste myself as he depresses my tongue.

When he pushes on my stomach to hold me down with his free hand, I expect him to take me as brutally as his son did his friend, with no consideration of anything but his own pleasure.

Instead, I feel the silky head of his penis nudge against my clit, already wet with precum. He swivels his hips against me, drenching the rest of the thickness in my arousal, and releases me to rest his forearms at the sides of my head. “Did you enjoy making my son want to fuck you?” he growls, tugging on the lobe of my ear with his teeth, his warm breath tickling me.

I didn’t really do anything, but I still nod, exhaling shakily as he brings his eyes back to my face. “Are you enjoying how everyone is watching, waiting for you to be fucked?” His glowing eyes flicker with flames, burning with lust and dominance, and I’m hypnotized by them as the velvet skin of his cock slides over my wet folds, making me hungry for more.

“Yes,” I breathe, so quietly that there’s no way he heard me.

But he saw it, and whispers against my still trembling lips, “Do you need to be filled?” His dirty words reach within me and grab hold of my insides with an iron fist.

“Yes,” I groan, the sound agonized. I’m on fire, I’m hurting; I feel so empty, so alone, so incomplete.

“Beg me for it,” he commands, then tugs on my lower lip with his teeth.

I want to beg him to kiss me, but I know that’s not what he meant and it’s not what this is about. And I want him inside me so badly I could die. “Please,” I whisper against his lips.

He shakes his head slowly.

I gulp, too tense to breathe, and try again, “Please, fuck me.”

He notches the tip of his cock at my entrance and just waits, looking at me patiently, seemingly unaffected. If I didn’t feel him hard and leaking, I would think he has little interest in the act.

But me, I want, Ineed. I damn a piece of my soul for pleasure and say, “Please, fuck me, Master.”

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