Note: this story contains a huge non-consensual element. It is strictly a fantasy and consent in real life should always be given enthusiastically and freely.
This is my first time writing erotic fiction in years, and my first time ever posting it somewhere like this. Let me know if it's worth continuing.
*****
Joe sighed as he closed his apartment door behind him, setting his backpack down and kicking off his shoes.
It had been a long day. He should have been done work at five, but a few people weren't in and it slowed them down so badly that he was still there at eight. He left shortly after, but the bus comes only hourly at that point, and he'd missed it by a few minutes.
He walked the few steps through his small apartment to its tiny kitchen, looking at the pile of unwashed dishes as a wave of lethargy overcame him.
A problem for tomorrow,
he thought, pulling the water pitcher from the fridge and pouring himself a glass.
Having fast food for dinner certainly didn't help, but he also knew he wouldn't have been up to cooking this late at night either way. He finished the glass of water and slumped his way over to his small bedroom, discarding his t-shirt and jeans in the process. He kicked his socks off and pulled on a thin tank top from his dresser, then slid into bed.
What a complete and utter waste of a day,
he thought. He didn't even bother to put something on his phone to fall asleep to - didn't even bother to set it to charge. It was barely past 9:30, but he couldn't think of anything that was worth being conscious for. Completely miserable, he rolled over and fell asleep.
-
"Seriously? This is what I'm stuck with?"
Joe felt his whole body turn cold. He was sure he'd locked the door, but he could hear a voice, clear as day, in his apartment. He kept his eyes shut tight.
My window opens right onto the parking lot,
he reminded himself.
It always sounds like it's coming from inside. That's all it is.
"You," he heard the voice say. It was a woman's voice, dripping with impatience. It sounded closer, and he closed his eyes tighter. "You, boy."
He felt something prod his shin over top of the blanket, and he yelled, his eyes shooting open as he pushed himself up to the headboard, bringing his knees up to his chest. Standing at the foot of his bed, lit only by the little bit of moonlight streaming in from the window, was a tall, curvy woman, clothed in nothing but wide black ribbons covering her chest and crotch. He noticed, with horror, two small horns peeking out of her short, black hair, and the forked tail, resting where his leg was only a second ago.
"Christ," she said. Joe could swear he saw her roll her black eyes.
"Who are you?" Joe stammered, pulling the blankets up to his chest.
"Leera," the demon-thing said, as if it offered any information.
"What do you want from me?"
Leera raised her eyebrows at him. "Nothing you have here is anything I want," she said. "I can't believe my fucking luck. You live like this?"
Joe just stared at her.
Leera let out a long, annoyed sigh. "Look," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose between two long-nailed fingers. "I had the utter misfortune to draw," she started, before pausing. "You know what? I've waited long enough for this and I don't owe you shit."
Before Joe had a second to try to decipher that, he felt as long tendrils wrapped around his ankles under the blanket, pulling them back and outward to the corners of the bed. Two more wrapped around his wrists, binding them together and stretching them back toward the headboard. His mouth was suddenly covered by a wide, black ribbon similar to the type she wore.
"Right," she said, looking at her fingers. She looked like someone paused at a grocery store, trying to see if they remembered to get everything they needed. She then waved a finger in the air quickly and Joe saw, in the dim light, a thin black dome surround his bedroom, before disappearing.
"You can be as loud as you want now," Leera said. She pulled the blanket and sheets off of him, leaving him laying on his bed in just a tank top and his boxers. She crawled over him, resting her knees on either side of his chest, before peeling back the ribbon over his mouth. It felt like duct tape as she slowly ripped it off. As she pulled the last little bit, Joe watched it disappear.
Leera then slid back along him before scratching a single nail from the bottom of his neck, down to his hips. The tank top he was wearing shredded, almost magically. She then used the same nail to cut each of the sleeves, then pulled it off of him, discarding it on the floor next to the bed.
"Ooh, scars," she said, eyeing his chest and dragging a nail across the incisions from his top surgery. She then ran a nail over one of his nipples. "So you're trans then, I guess? I have all this to deal with and I don't even get a dick out of it?"
"I'm sorry," Joe offered, unsure of what else he was supposed to say.
Leera ignored him. "Can you feel anything in these?" she asked, rubbing her nails over his nipples again.
Joe shook his head.
Leera let out a frustrated groan, before sliding back even more.
She cut his boxers off too, then ran her nails sharply down the sides of his torso, making him scream out.
"At least the rest of you is sensitive," she said, her voice still heavy with contempt.
She scratched long, red marks up the insides of his thighs before running a nail along his slit. "Your little clit will get the attention I was going to give your nipples too, then," she said, more to herself than to Joe. She pressed the nail down harder, and it pushed into his clit. He shut his eyes tightly in pain, trying to wiggle away from her.
