Lalassa
The hot sun beat down on me. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. The path of the sun had shifted the shade, putting me in almost full sunlight. Probably time to move. Placing my book carefully on the small table beside me, I stood, stretching. Then I reached for my drink. I found it empty. "Duran!" I called.
My familiar came into view. "Yes, my lady?"
He looked yummy. The nut brown expanse of his chest, one shade darker than mine, was well muscled and smooth. In contrast, the lines of his face were as delicate as a woman's. His eyes were an exotic green, and his dark hair, which fell to his waist, looked almost blue in the bright sunlight. He was almost as tall as a northerner, towering above my own 4'9." I knew that if he turned around his back would be as chiseled as his chest, and his butt would be small but shapely inside his loincloth.
I absently rubbed my short skirt between my fingers and thought about what I had been reading. It was possible, the author said, for a demon to feed through sex. I'd designed Duran's form as eye candy alone. I had never considered actually having sex with him. Now I wondered if I should try. It would be nice to get some corroborating data.
Abruptly, I realized Duran was still waiting for my order. I handed him my cup. "More fruit juice," I told him. "The papaya, this time."
He gave a small bow. "Yes, my lady," he murmured, and then turned to go back to the house.
It had taken years, and some rather impressive spell work, to get him this well trained. The breakthrough had occurred when I had realized Duran enjoyed my touch, and that could be as effective a reward as feeding.
I wondered, yet again, why Duran liked being touched by me so much. It didn't seem like a survival trait, and it wasn't created purely by magic. None of the familiars of my fellow wizards showed any interest in touch, but my research had indicated that other wizards, now long dead, had noticed the same thing in their demons.
I thought about the book I had been reading, which described a demon who had declared he loved his summoner. Was this somehow related to why Duran enjoyed my touch? Or was the capacity to love unrelated to the enjoyment of the summoner's touch?
I lifted the table my book was sitting on, and moved it into the shade. Then I shifted my chair. Finally, I settled into my chair and picked up my book again.
I wondered yet again why the northerners still used books. Without careful spell work, they were vulnerable to both bugs and humidity. Give me a spelled stone tablet any day. Yes, they were a bit heavier, but they were ten times more durable.
My people had only briefly used paper to record things, several thousand years ago when it was newly discovered. Then some bright wizard had come up with a spell that allowed a stone tablet to change what was inscribed on it. After several years of experimentation and refinement, the wizard had come out with a slender stone tablet that could hold as much as a book. The design hadn't really changed since then. It was hard to improve on perfection.
When the north and the south had discovered each other, they had exchanged many things, among them methods of recording information. The exchange had led to the magical revolution, which had irrevocably changed life on both the continents. Working together, wizards from both continents had developed mirror magic, and light stones, and a thousand other useful spells for everyday life.
Magical glyphs, the language of wizards, had been roughly the same on both continents, despite the differences between our common tongues. Various academics were still trying to figure out why that was. I, personally, didn't care why northerners used the same glyphs we did. I just knew it meant I didn't have to learn Northerner to read their academic works. Like, for example, the one I was currently engrossed in.
I heard a glass settle on the table beside me. "Your juice, lady," Duran murmured.
I turned to touch his arm. "Thank you, Duran," I said, running my fingers softly along his lower arm before pressing a kiss against his inner wrist.
He shivered. "My lady."
Slowly, I kissed my way up Duran's arm. He sighed happily. He liked the touch of my mouth most of all. Again, I wondered why. "How would you like" -kiss- "to try an experiment" -kiss- "with me?" I asked.
"I live to please you, my lady," he murmured. Then he shuddered as my lips found the crease of his elbow.
I pulled him down onto his knees so I could continue to make his way up his arm. He closed his eyes, his expression one of pure bliss. I wondered if the demon in my book, Saban, reacted this strongly to touch. With my other hand, I undid the clasp of my skirt. As it was the only thing I was wearing, no other preparation was needed. I wondered how long it took the northerners, with their obsession with clothing, to get ready for sex. "Kiss my pussy," I told Duran.
His eyes widened. "Yes, my lady."
Duran shifted to kneel between my legs, back bent to get his head low enough to reach my pussy. Reverently, he pressed a kiss between my legs. Without my having to direct him, he kissed me again. His eyes flicked up to me. Then, slowly, allowing me plenty of time to object, he took my clit in his mouth. He sucked on it, moaning softly.
I moaned, too, my eyelids fluttering closed. It was his expression that did it, the passion in his eyes. Duran straightened and pulled me down into a passionate kiss, again leaving plenty of time for me to object. His mouth moved like he wanted to devour me.
And that was likely exactly what he was fantasizing about. Duran was a devourer, a type of demon that typically swallowed their prey. His goal, as he'd told me over and over, was to eat me. He didn't hate me, or, at least, I didn't think he did. He just passionately desired to swallow me whole.
As he sucked on my lower lip, I wondered if I should be encouraging him to put my body parts in his mouth. As Duran pulled away and bent over my pussy once more, I decided that yes, I did want him to do this. After all, he already wanted to eat me. It wasn't like it could get much worse than that.
Duran's tongue flicked into me, and then he began to suck my clit. I pushed him away briefly so I could think. I tried to remember what the goal of this exercise was. Besides getting off.
"Duran," I told him as he stared with longing at my pussy, "Can you try to feed from me while you play with me?" Devourers could feed just like regular demons, if they wanted to.
His eyes lit up. "Yes, my lady. With pleasure."
"Then do so," I instructed him. He nodded, and then bent over my pussy again.
After a moment, I could feel the tug on my magic that meant he was feeding. So. It was true. I thought about the implications of this discovery. Then, all thought was chased from my mind by the feeling of Duran's tongue.
An urgency grew in the way Duran licked and sucked, a frantic, all encompassing passion. No hesitation, no uncertainty. Duran wanted this. He wanted this very much. I wondered if he'd thought about this before, maybe daydreamed about it. He was certainly eager enough now that it had been suggested.
I felt myself climbing, the feel of Duran's mouth driving me toward my peak. I moaned, my hand fisted in Duran's hair. "Yes," I sighed. "Oh, gods, Duran, yes!"
Duran made a soft, happy sound, barely audible over the sounds of my moaning and his vigorous tongue. I pushed him away. His mouth disengaged reluctantly from my pussy, and he sighed unhappily.
I pulled him up and fumbled with his loincloth. "I want you to fuck me," I told him.
He shrank away. "Please, lady, I'd rather serve you with my mouth."
