As always, I repeat it ten times, not as a droning prayer, like those I was used to when I was still going to church, before I became an atheist. No, I have to put sentiment in it, mean every word, because otherwise he will know and I will regret it.
Thanks to my demon, I learned that words are never mere sounds. I feel good now, strong, as I still look at myself in the mirror. My eyes linger on my collar, my most prized possession. He designed and built it for me from scratch. It is the source of his power over me. Well, no actually, that is my love for him, but the collar symbolizes it and makes it possible on a more practical level, together with my earrings. My earlobes are stretched to the size of a beer cap and are occupied with two bronze disks covered with arcane scripts. They act as a support for the other element of the jewelry, a metal snake that follows the shape of my ears, housed in the curl of my auricle. Its tail rests where the cartilage spirals just above the ear canal, while its head peeks right into it, after its body takes a sharp turn on my earlobes. That's how he can always speak to me: the snakes whisper with his voice in my ears.
No, no more daydreaming, or I'll be late! Back in the bedroom, I open my big wardrobe. Most of my clothes are dark, elegant and gothic in style, but they are of no importance now: I only dress exactly in the way he wants me today. Another quick trip back to the bathroom and my shoulder-length jet black hair is dried and straightened and my make-up done. I like to wear heavy black eyeliner and today I sport a dark red lipstick to match the skirt.
My demon has not requested any particular purse, so I fetch my trusty coffin-shaped backpack. Once outside, the cold morning air stabs me in a thousand different places. With a shiver, I begin my morning walk. In a sense, it's a walk of shame, considering just how lewdly short my skirt is. My shiny chastity belt is there for all to see as soon as I bend over a little. He knows, he always does, and he's enjoying it. I wonder if he's stroking his sex right now. I sure know I want to do it with mine!
My first stop is Starbucks. It seems that wherever you are, there is one of their cafes somewhere in the surrounding, which is good for me, because I have rules when I am outside. As it's easy to imagine, the thing about being in love with a demon, is that they tend to be cruel. It's in their nature: after all they feed off human pain. Mine has a taste for the pain that my feet experience as result of walking on very high heels, which is the reason why he wants me to wear them, besides the fact that I look really hot in them. So, when I am outside and I have to walk somewhere, the rule is that I can never rest. If I find a red light, I have to turn left or right or, if I'm in a hurry, I just walk in the opposite direction until the streetlight turns green, so that I can rush back again to catch it. If I stop for more than a few seconds, he will know and there will be consequences: a thing that demons are not, is forgiving.
Of course, one of the main consequences of this is that I can never plan a specific route for wherever I want to go. So I walk and walk, attracting the occasional stare for my skimpy attire. I should be used to this and to the heels. Yet it still works and I blush in shame and suffer in silence, for the pleasure of my demon. When in my random walk I stumble upon a Starbucks, I can finally rest. Most people in line are fidgeting with their phones, but I can't: he doesn't want me to lose the chance of spotting someone lusting after me.
Today I need to…
Fuck!
His invisible finger has found me again! A powerful vibration wakes up my sex, still eager to get its denied climax… Luckily for me the belt is sufficiently padded and the vibrations are inaudible, but the line is long and when it's my turn…
Shit!
My demon's hand is unforgiving and unrelenting, hungry and greedy, and it's fucking me even harder now! I bite my lip, I try to think about something else, anything else, but they see me! Everybody's eyes, I bet they see me! I turn around and a middle-aged man frowns. Is it my face? Or my behavior? Perhaps my attire. Does he know? The line is moving. I could get out… No, I couldn't, it's against the rules. He knows where I am and what I'm doing and he wants me to cum here, in front of everyone! The line moves again. I'm so lucky that the belt does not let me drip juices so easily, because my pussy is swimming in them.
No, no! The vibrations are even stronger now!
"Good morning!" a young employee greets me.
I must have looked at him with a very weird expression, because he's frowning and when he speaks again, he does it with the condescending tone that people use with addicts and mentally challenged people:
"What are you having today, miss?"
I can't think, I'm on the verge and my demon intends to keep me there for a long time, because his finger is more delicate now. I have a bad feeling. Yeah, he's definitely going to make me cum as soon as I open my mouth to place the order. The evil bastard!
"Miss?"
Someone grumbles about being in a hurry behind me. Fuck them! I take a deep breath and blurt, just moments before I reach climax:
"Latte and a morning bun to eat here! For Nadia."
Shutting my mouth so hard that my jaws hurt, I reach for my purse and take my credit card: I'm no condition of doing the simplest computation and use cash. Boy this is awesome and horrible at the same time! The man still looks at me with a mixture of worry and contempt. He must think that I'm a junkie prostitute coming back from a long night of work!
As soon as I'm done, I flee towards the first free table. The only thing I know is that I can't stand up anymore and I just want to scream. I wish I had a gag on now! No, wait, what? No, no, no gag in public! My eyes are shut, but it's like it's never enough and so all my facial muscles are working on separating me from the rest of the world and just enjoy my forbidden and sinful lust.
I don't know how long it lasts, I don't even care about my shame anymore, because, as I found out thanks to my demon, there is a very definite limit of embarrassment that one can feel. After that, you just sort of roll with it.
So, after a while, I find myself coming down with a labored breath. My eyes finally dare to open and I notice that a lot of people are looking at me. Now I'm sure that it's not my paranoia. By the time my breakfast is ready (my name is "Hanna" apparently), I thankfully feel more in control of myself.
I don't really want to eat, but he wants me to. I have to spend some time enjoying breakfast every day, choosing food that I like and finishing it, all of it, together with a hot beverage. With a sigh, I take a bite off the bun. I have to chew it for at least a couple of seconds, for he wants me to savor it before I swallow. I don't know how he checks this particular fact and I don't want to think about it, I just trust that he does, because he loves me.
Not a lot of people understand that. They think that what they long for is what everybody should desire, that somehow love is universal, but it's not. Take food, for example: it is always nourishing, but it comes in very different flavors, styles and traditions. Love is very much like that: even though it always nourishes your soul, it changes a lot, depending on whom gives it to you.
My demon's love scares most people, it sure would scare my parents if they knew, but it makes me happy and is what I need. They don't know what is frightening for me and how with him I feel safe from it. He truly gets me, he peers in the depths of my soul and sees it the way it is. He's not scared of the darkness within. That's why, when he whispers in my ears, I just do whatever he wants, to the point that he rarely has to punish me. My folks would probably fear that I'm somehow forced, but for me obeying is not about avoiding the punishment, because I could use my safe word and get away with it, it's a choice. No, actually it's not even that. It's me succumbing to the irresistible temptation of doing his bidding. This is the reason why I call him a demon and that's how he convinced me to give him total control of my life, to put on a collar and a chastity belt to which I don't have the key, and I've never regretted it. I revel in the exciting nightmare he has crafted for me.
With a longing sigh, I finally finish my meal and drink the last of the latte. Time to go to work. On foot, of course.
Chapter 2
– When he began to haunt me
I own a shop specialized in alternative fashion and accessories, mostly gothic, but I also keep some fetish items. Since I'm also a good tailor, part of the merchandise is made by me. I prize bespoke and artisanal items. That's how we met, three years ago. He's a computer engineer, but he has a small side business, a passion project really: he makes chastity belts. He's made mine, of course, dedicating an entire month to it.
Anyhow, I found his work on the internet and asked him if he wanted to use my shop as a showcase and distributor. He was curious and so he agreed to meet me.
