The Demon Ch 01

You had to know the shop to find it. Not just know the name, or the address, but really know the store by the touch of magic in your soul. Without the grace of magic, the storefront would appear to be nothing but dusty windows and moldering boards. To me, and others like me, it was a worn looking but occupied little store front whose wares were displayed behind windows that fair scintillated with the spells to keep them hidden.

As I entered, seeming to any mundane observers to turn down the alley next to the shop, a bell tinkled and I was greeted with the scent of linseed oil and dried blood.

"Shyla!" the young girl behind the counter greeted me. "It's been weeks! Why haven't I seen you around more often lately?"

"You know how it goes sometimes Leigh," I replied noncommittally. "I've been busy is all."

"Well what can I help you with today Miss Busy?" she asked, rather tartly. Leigh looked all of fifteen, but I knew her to be much closer to 30 than 20. She was skinny, too skinny really, her small bones nearly poking through her fair skin. Today her hair was blue, cut close to her head and unkempt. It was different every time I came in, one of her charms. I smiled at her affronted, pouting face, knowing it for a fake.

"I just wrapped up my busy-ness actually, and I'm here to browse and see what you and your partner have gotten in since I last visited."

"Oh! Excellent!" Leigh hopped up and down in excitement for a few beats before swinging her legs over the counter and leaping into my arms for a hug. I caught her slight frame easily and returned her enthusiastic greeting with interest. I've known Leigh for most of my life, and she has always been a good friend, even when our respective jobs have separated us.

I released her and she landed lightly on her feet. She took my hand and led me into the back room of the shop. There are levels and levels of customers that visit the shop. You need only to be able to perceive it to purchase what you will from the front, but to gain entry into the back rooms takes a considerable amount of trust earned over time. Or so I heard from those that needed to earn the privilege. I had inherited it, as Leigh had inherited the store.

While the front of the store had a look of a second-hand store, vaguely defined sections with no predictable locations for any given item, the back room was almost painfully neat. Some of the items in the back would not do well to touch certain others, or even be in near proximity.

"That's new," I said, pointing to a large cabinet of a dark wood taking up a good portion of the back wall.

"Oh, that, well, if you'd been in more recently then you'd know."

I waited. Leigh just stared at me, grinning. She knew she'd win. Since I knew too I gave in.

"What is it?"

"It's a cabinet," she said breezily. "Check out this latest batch of gemsolii, isn't it scandalous? Mother would never have been sent such low quality goods."

"What's in the cabinet?" I asked, a bit more sternly. She ignored my tone, expertly scratching at the surface of my temper without broaching it.

"Just things, you know?" she replied.

"Leigh."

She pursed her lips and gave me a sour look.

"You sound like my mother when you say that."

"Leigh!"

"Oh, alright, fine. The cabinet was a gift from Anton. It is specially made to contain certain of the more, shall we say, energetic objects that I've acquired recently." She licked her lips nervously. "There was a small issue a few weeks ago, just after your last visit, and Anton thought it best that he give it to me."

I chuckled. I knew there was so much more to the story than she had just told me, but goodness willing, I'd never find out the rest.

I browsed the back room, finding nothing that sparked my fancy and catching up with Leigh. We wandered back to the front room and continued to chat as I ran my fingers along merchandise scattered haphazardly on antique tables. Then they caught.

I looked down, Leigh's words fading to a buzz in the background as my vision narrowed on a small glass bottle. There was a label on it, but it was Leigh's handwriting. 'Body wash- cleansing' it read. There was a viscous liquid inside, shining like liquid soap does with swirls of color. A pale pink, just like you'd expect from a body wash. I picked it up and brought it over to Leigh, who had retreated again behind the counter.

"Where did you get this?" I asked her.

"You haven't been listening to me! You are impossible Shyla!"

I leveled a level one glare at her. "Leigh, where did you get this bottle?"

She finally gave it a look where I had set it on the counter. Her brow furrowed on her young looking face, giving her an incongruous air. She reached for it, and turned the label, tied with yarn to the neck, to read her own handwriting.

"I don't remember this Shyla. I don't remember writing it or acquiring it. Weird. Sarai might have brought it in and asked me to write a label. I probably wouldn't remember it if she caught me distracted." A lascivious grin bloomed on her face, lending it an entirely new kind of incongruity. "You know how good Sarai is at distracting me."

I rolled my eyes.

"I'm going to buy it."

"If you need cleansing, you know better ways to do it than some random bottle Shyla. Why?" she asked.

I didn't want to tell her how it had caught at me. There was something wrong with the bottle, a trap. I could feel it, a red haze of danger surrounding the bottle if I cared to look deeply. If I told Leigh about that, then she'd insist on helping me spring it. I didn't want to involve her. I knew I could handle it on my own.

"Maybe I want to try something new," I replied vaguely. "Besides, I like the bottle. I can always dump the soap and use it for something more appropriate."

"Okay," she said. She was looking at me calculatingly, trying to spot some sort of dissemblance. I projected innocence and acquisitiveness for the bottle. "30 gold pieces."

I raised my eyebrows at her. "I don't want it that much! 10 silver is far more than the bottle is worth."

We haggled. I think if I had agreed to her first offer she wouldn't have sold it to me at all. I knew her well enough to know how to lie to her, especially when it was for her own protection. I left after the bargain was completed, hugging and kissing Leigh goodbye.

My emergence from the shop was heralded by a tinkling bell, and I appeared to walk out of a dark alley to the homeless man across the street. Or not, I thought, as I saw a spark of recognition in his eyes and waved at an old acquaintance of my mother's.

When I got home, I had had plenty of time to decide how to go about springing the trap. In the end, I chose to act as if I had no idea what I was in for, and simply spring it by using the bottle as labeled.

I shucked off my clothing and, naked, made for the bathroom, bottle clutched in my hands. I started the water and waited for it to heat up. Placing the bottle on the edge of the tub, I caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror. I was of average height, and average weight. The more magic has graced the soul, the less spectacular is the physical form to behold, my grandmother had always told me. If that were true, then my utter averageness of shape and feature would imply a greatness of magic untold. I knew that I was strong, and well trained, but I held no delusions of being anything special among magic users. My brown hair fell to my shoulders when it wasn't held back in a tail, and my eyes were somewhere between a hazel and a pale brown. There was nothing terribly distinctive about my appearance, but neither was I unattractive. I ran my hands down my sides. I was approaching thirty, but my waist was pleasingly small and my breasts were firm and suited to my frame.

The mirror began to steam, signaling that the water was ready. I loosened the stopper on the bottle before getting my hands wet. Then I tested the heat of the water with my hand. It was hot, and perfect. I steeled myself for a shock and then subjected my body to the intense heat. For a moment it was too much, especially on my more sensitive parts. Then I relaxed into it, and felt only comforted by the heat pounding onto my body in liquid form.

I grabbed my loufa from the hook on the wall and then proceeded to try to pour some of the body wash onto it. I failed.

Instead of a few droplets oozing onto the loufa, the entirety of the bottle somehow whooshed out as soon as it turned vertical above it. The smell was familiar, but I couldn't identify it. I knew scents better than sights, I sometimes thought, but these eluded me. Something sweet, something flowery, something delicious, something heavy and... brimstone.

Unable to help myself, I began to massage the body wash into the loufa, as if everything were normal. Suds began to form. Without volition, I began to anoint myself with them. First my feet, soapy suds slid over and between each toe before sliding up each calf in turn. I admired the toned form of my calves, a result of a strict regimen of running, as I soaped them and then moved up. I did my thighs, but it seemed right to ignore the juncture between them, sliding instead to my belly. I spent what seemed a long time, rubbing and rubbing the soapy loufa around my small belly. I didn't have a flat stomach, but a womanly and rounded soft tummy, so ripe, though it had not yet borne fruit. Then I slid it up around and between and upon my breasts, the suds bringing a tingling sensation to my nipples.

There must be some mint in the mix, I thought, or perhaps clove. I washed my arms, my back as best as I could and then, though it wasn't a normal part of my washing routine, I washed my face with the loufa, breathing through a veil of suds for a moment before they slid down my hot wet face. My hair got the treatment as well, and then I slid the loufa down my back to my ass. Both cheeks were lovingly caressed with the bubbles, and then I slid it between my cheeks, where again the tingling began.

I probably shouldn't put it anywhere else sensitive, I thought. But the thought was hardly formed before I had put it between my legs, rubbing it harshly against my slit and clit. The tingling began there too and I reveled in it. I was abandoned to the sensation, wanton and shameless as I felt pleasure build and build. I wanted an orgasm. I needed penetration. The bottle.

The stopper was gone. I grabbed the bottle, and thrust the open end into my cunt. That's when I remembered the trap, as my climax claimed me and the spell began to form around me. I wanted to fall down with the pleasure of it; I wanted to run away from the consequences I could feel building as the spell built itself with my energy, my soul. But the spell held me immobile. I felt a swelling in my middle, a bloatedness building inside me as if portending a terrible birth. Brimstone, I thought. No.

The bubbles refused to be rinsed off my skin even as I remained under the flow of the hot water pouring from the showerhead. A mist began to build in front of me, forming a human shape, taking on a dusky red color as the outline filled with thick muscles and a horned head.

How the fuck had a demon gotten trapped in a bottle of soap, I asked myself. There was no answer, or none that mattered to me at the moment. Trapped it had been, and it was using me to free itself, because I had arrogantly walked directly into the trap.

The mist was thickening, the demon taking on a physical form as close to me as if we were embracing. Then, I felt somewhat more closeness. The bottle clattered to the floor of the tub, bouncing but not breaking. And then, before even the face took on features, I felt a hardness inside me. I wanted to panic and flee even more now, but I couldn't. I was trapped until this was done. Trapped with the demon materializing in my arms, and inside me. I could feel it more with each passing moment, the cock of the demon becoming solid inside me, ridged and hard and huge, stretching me inside as it became more and more physical, more of my plane.

Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl inside my mind. There was nothing I could do with magic. All of my power had been subverted by the spell in the bottle. If the spell required more than I had, I would die. If it didn't, I would live to be raped by a demon. I feared death less, but had no choice.

An eternal moment later, I was staring into the black hole eyes of a dusky red demon as his cock owned me. I wasn't dead, but I had no strength to resist him. I collapsed into him, and he held me up with ease, remaining buried inside me. The water turned off, and he carried me to my own bedroom.

Soaking wet, he maneuvered us onto my bed, covering me with his body and using his hands to force my eyes to his.

"You are weak," he said. His voice was deep, and sounded as if it continued into registers I couldn't physically hear. His tongue was forked, and long. Even at a distance to give good eye contact, he licked my face, a slow mocking caress. "You are mine."

"No," I managed say. "No!"

"You have no choice, mortal. You chose this. You wanted this," and he began to pulsate, deep inside me, pulsate and vibrate and fuck. "You want this."

"No."

But the pleasure that had completed his summoning had not left my body, and it began to respond to the monstrous cock buried inside me.

Involuntarily my body thrust towards him, and he smiled. A vicious and cruel smile, tinged with the pride of ownership, the arrogance of a battle already won.

I couldn't look away from his eyes. I couldn't stop the building pleasure that would bind me to him. I knew this trick, this trap, and in other circumstances breaking free would have been easy for me. I had the power to break out of a pleasure compulsion, and the skill, but not right now, not drained nearly to the dregs and being taken by the very being that had drank my power. The power in him was mine, it was familiar and it called to me. I yearned to join it inside him, join it in being his more and more the longer I stared in his eyes, the closer I came to another fatal climax.

I was lost. I had lost. I began to let go, to lose touch with myself and simply ride the pleasure. Then I felt something poking at my ass. Moments of prodding and then a sudden thrust nearly brought me as his tail penetrated my ass. I was filled to capacity, stuffed in both holes by a supernatural creature not limited to mortal constraints.

Tears fell from my eyes, not because of pain or sorrow at my fall, but because he would not let me orgasm. I could feel him holding me carefully from falling over the edge, even as he rode me on that edge harder than I thought I could bear.

"Please," I whispered, my blank gaze taking in only his eyes, the eyes of my Master.

"You see, how you beg for your defilement? So weak. So easy." His pleasure at my capitulation only increased my own pleasure, almost enough that I snuck an orgasm, but not quite.

Then his tongue extended once again. It caressed my face, my ears, my neck. Then it slid over my lips, parting them with one deft stroke. It wasn't a kiss, but his tongue did caress mine for one moment before thrusting deeply into my throat. As I choked, he forced me to cum. The orgasm felt eternal, penetrated in all three holes by my demon Master, caught in his eyes with my very life controlled by his tongue down my throat. No air. Yes, I thought, with the last part of me that still fought, kill me. Kill me now.

But he didn't.

He withdrew, abruptly, simultaneously, leaving me achingly empty and craving to be full again. "You are mine," he repeated. "My Mistress will be pleased with my work of this day."

Mistress? I thought. This wasn't chance. This wasn't random. This trap had been for me. Then I passed out.

The woman entered Shyla's apartment and went straight to the bedroom. Her bound demon bowed at her entrance.

"She is yours?"

"Yes Mistress," he replied. "It has been done as you instructed. The girl is as bound to me as I am to you."

"Good work Asmodeus. No less than I expected." Her cruel gaze took in the sight of blood on the bed sheets beneath Shyla with a keen delight. "Bring her to my dungeon, put her in a cell and retire until I summon you again."

"I hear and obey," he replied.

Sarai watched her demon as he gathered Shyla in his arms and disappeared in a subliminal clap of thunder. Then she cleaned up the mess on the bed and took the bottle from the shower, replacing it with a similar one filled with actual soap. Leigh could suspect nothing if her ultimate plan were to come to fruition.