Date with Destiny-Demon Style Ch. 04

Lyzander opened the door to her bedroom, crossing the plane from warm steam to arid heat he carried her to her canopied bed, pushing back the translucent fabric and dropping her gently onto the soft sheets. Her quiet giggles continued, only fading when she felt Lyzander's strong hands grip her hips, pulling her legs off the bed and turning her onto her stomach. The weight of his body pressed against her back, pushing her into the bedding. The brush of his lips against the side of her neck had shivers racing up her spine.

"I'm not sure you're completely satisfied, princess." His breath tickled her ear.

"No, I'm fine," she said sleepily. A soft smile worked its way across her lips.

His hands drifted down to her thighs, spreading them wide. Her toes barely touched the floor, making her scramble for a foothold. She jumped, squealing softly when she felt the hard rod of his cock press against her inner thing.

"I don't think so." His voice had dropped low, almost becoming a growl. "Why don't we play a game?"

"What kind of game?" she asked slowly, her giddiness fading into uneasiness.

The flesh of his cock slid past her thigh, sliding against the still-slick lips of her slit. He pushed his hips forward an inch, making the head of his cock connect with her clit. She jumped, small bolts of lightening racing deep onto her core.

"I know you're curious about this place and the people here, so I'll let you ask the questions I know are eating you on the inside. For every question you ask me, I move just a little faster. I want to see how long it takes you to break." He shifted, placing his hands on either side of her head, supporting his weight on the bed instead of her spine.

She inhaled sharply, arousal and fear swirling in her gut.

"I'm feeling generous, so I'll let you have the first question free."

She swallowed loudly, more aroused than she could ever remember feeling in her life. She debated fighting him for a moment, but a second brush of cock against clit rendered her instinct to flee useless.

"Which of the princes is the black one? I don't know him."

"Ah, Memnon. He is the son of Thuroc, the ruler of the Sloth circle. He's not really into this whole princess-picks-her-mate competition. He'd much rather be the one making the choices."

"Ah, I see. He didn't seem that interested in me..."

"He likes blondes. Don't take it personally. He's also a bit of a womanizer. So if you happen to pick him, don't be surprised of he comes in with a blonde succubus or two."

She nodded. "So does that mean I can request to have him removed from the competition?"

She should have seen it coming, but the slow, delicious strokes of his cock caught her by surprise. His rhythm was languid, almost lazy. But the sparks that raced through her veins said otherwise. His slow pace was deliberate, a delicious torture he had every intention of continuing. She groaned softly, pressing her face into the soft blankets of her bed.

"It does. If you feel like one of us has no interest in being here, or you feel threatened, you can ask them to be removed."

"And who do I ask for that to happen?" She moaned louder when his strokes quickened. She remembered her question to him in the shower; she'd asked him what skill he possessed to entrap human. Clearly, delicious sexual torture was his forte.

"You can ask Lucifer, or your father can ask for you. I know he can be a bit...intimidating." She heard his voice change, becoming more strained. This little game of his wasn't leaving him unscathed, either.

"Has anyone ever asked for a contestant to be removed?" Her question ended on a high-pitched yelp that dissolved into a desperate moan. His hips rocked at a wonderful pace, the full length of his cock rubbing against her clit with the perfect pressure.

"Once. That particular prince almost devoured the princess who picked him, and not in the good way. No, it wasn't Darian. This was long before any of us were born. He came close to killing the girl, which nearly cost him his head."

"What...happened....to him?" She could barely force the words out. Pleasure had consumed her mind now that his pace had quickened. Her fingers clenched the thick blankets, trying to hold onto her sanity as well as her balance.

"He was...exiled. Driven up into the mortal world. The humans didn't like the idea of a true demon living on the Earth with them, so the burned him alive. Poor man, he didn't deserve that fate, even if he did try to eat his intended."

He continued to torture her with a wonderful mixture of heat and friction. Her body had become clay, easily molding into whatever shape he wanted. She'd lost all will to fight, instead becoming his willing puppet. She would do anything and everything he wanted if he only kept up his delectable assault. To her sweet relief, his pace never slowed, the pressure never fading. She could lay here forever, crushed under his weight with his body pleasuring her own. But she knew far too well her body's limits, and she was fast approaching the point of no return.

A final question burned in her mind, one she debated asking. His scar captivated her. She could see it in her mind: the sharp angles, the smooth, clean edges. She burned to ask why. She ached to ask how. But fear of pushing him too far kept her mouth shut.

A single, well-placed stroke along her clit shattered any further hesitation. If she didn't ask now she'd lose her chance. Finally, with the threat of orgasm quickly drawing closer, she forced it out.

"How did you get your scar?" She forced the words past her lips with every ounce of her strength.

He stopped, so suddenly it was as if he'd suddenly become paralyzed. She held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest. Anxiety swirled in her gut. Had she pushed too far? Was this one of those untouchable subjects? She chewed her lip, waiting for his response. Relief came when he resumed his stroking, his pace now back to the leisurely slowness he'd started with.

"Ah, isn't that a story to tell? Very well, I'll give you the shorter version. I was asked by Lucifer himself to tempt a young nun who'd just joined the sisterhood back in Spain. The poor girl was only eighteen, still very susceptible to temptation despite her faith. It was an easy task. I'd claimed the innocence of many sisters before her." He leaned close, his lips brushing her ear. "Young women are so easy to lead astray."

She nodded in agreement, playing along to his story. Even she couldn't deny that. He'd trapped her easily, and she had to admit she didn't feel like trying to escape his grasp.

He continued his tale. "The task was almost too easy. The girl gave in with barely a fight. I had her in my hands within moments, and she was screaming out her pleasure in the catacombs of the cathedral. Watching a woman finding her pleasure is a weakness of mine." She could hear the smile in his voice.

That certainly explains a lot, doesn't it? she thought sarcastically.

"I left the girl gasping in the tombs, climbing up the rotted steps that led to the church. I was making my way to the main doors when a small cry caught me by surprise. It was nearly two in the morning, so no one should have been in the church. Even the priests were asleep. My curiosity got the best of me -- another weakness, I'm afraid -- and I went to investigate. In one of the storage rooms I found an old priest, so old I though him a living corpse. He was naked, kneeling behind a young dark-haired girl no older than twelve, and grunting like a boar. I could see his hips moving in harsh thrusts. The girl was naked, bent over on her knees so she was crying against the stone floor."

She shivered at his words, disgust bubbling in her belly.

His tone lowered, angry. "I may be a being of sexual favors, but abusers of children do not receive my stamp of approval. I stepped behind the man and tapped him on the shoulder. He whipped around, his face changing from startled to frightened when he saw what I was. He stuttered out the beginning of a prayer when I smacked his face with my hand, twisting his head around so he could send his prayers to his rotten ass. The girl looked up at me with wide, fearful eyes. I grabbed the monster's cloak and tossed it over her. I walked out of that closet, not surprised by what I had seen but angry that it had happened. I paused in front of the altar, looking up at that perpetually sad face of Christ." He paused, clearly affected by the memory but strong enough to retell it.

"'Forgive me, Father. I have sinned.' I told that sad man of carved wood. Silence followed. An instant later, I felt a burning across my face, as if lightening had streaked down my skin. I cupped my face in my hands, crying out in pain. I knew what happened. I needed no mirror to see how I looked. I felt no pain or sorrow for my new appearance. I only felt anger. Anger that I had saved a girl from being raped by a lecherous old monk only to have my face scarred. I ran from that church, cursing the God I had feared so much. I came to realize that God was little more than a spoiled child with a magnifying glass and we are the ants."

They remained silent for a time, each lost in their own thoughts. Silently, she cursed his fate. True, he had stolen the virginity of a nun. But wasn't saving an innocent child enough to make up for that? Clearly not.

"What happened to the church?" She tried to turn her head to look at him, but he remained out of sight above her.

He laughed at her shocked gasp. "Did you think we'd stopped playing my game?"

She groaned again into the sheets, secretly happy that he hadn't forgotten her simmering arousal. His hips moved faster again, and she closed her eyes to enjoy the sensuous friction.

"Ironically, it burned down years later. The old priest was discovered later that day, with the girl still hiding in the corner. They found no trace of my presence there, and the girl refused to tell police who the murderer was. The old lecher was buried in disgrace and the girl went on to marry a wealthy businessman from Italy. They died long ago. Now their grandchildren take care of the fortune."

She smiled. She'd never been a fan of sappy children's tales, but she was fond of happy endings. Another thought seeped into her mind: the idea that he had taken all of this in stride. She felt proud of him, happy that he could take from his experience and learned something of the world.

But something far more important broke through her happiness for Lyzander and the unknown girl: Her body's unsatisfied need.

"Could I ask a favor?"

"That is technically still a question, but yes." His rhythm increased, causing her to squeal softly. "Ask away."

"Mmmmm. Right there, that's perfect." She stretched out on the bed, feeling the soft blankets rub deliciously against her naked skin. "Stay like that, please."

He laughed again. "As you wish, princess."

For long, wonderful moments he kept the pace. Her minds spun in dizzying circles, swept away by the immense pleasure he provided her with. She heard his small snickers of enjoyment every time she gasped or groaned against him. Her spine arched against her will, bringing her hips higher. The position allowed for a more intense level of contact, and she cried out in surprise. He eased her body's strain by climbing off her and gripping her hips. He held them high as he continued to stroke her, never once granting her a moment's rest.

Her climax came too quickly, her scream of completion leaving her throat hoarse. He pulled away from her body as she heaved air into her lungs, settling her hips onto the soft bedding. She felt the bed dip as he lay down beside her. He wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her close. She squirmed into his grasp, wriggling her body closer to his.

"You lasted longer than I thought you would. I'm impressed." His voice slid into her ear, twisting around her mind and making her dizzy.

"Can you tell me more about the other princes? Just so I know what I'm getting into if I pick them." She closed her eyes and inhaled his scent, something she noticed for the first time. He smelled of thyme and campfire smoke.

"Your mother hasn't told you about us?" His tone was part curious, part disbelief.

She shook her head. "Mom doesn't tell me crap."

He sighed, sounding almost annoyed as she was with her mother. "We'll start with the twins."

"You mean the elves from Middle-earth?" she asked with a giggle.

Lyzander smother a laugh. "That's one way to describe them. Their names are Riordan and Tristan. Riordan is the older one, and he'll make damn sure you know it. Their father is Thaltos. He rules the circle of Envy. They're warriors by nature, so don't be surprised if they start fighting over you. Don't worry, they like you. That's why they'll be fighting. If they do start bickering, just say they won't be able to sleep with you and they'll shut right up."

He pulled her closer, pressing his lips into her hair. "The other brothers are Malnos and Ziron. They're the sons of Soridan. He's a secondary demon in the Greed sector, which means he's got power, but he works under Helion's father. They're the quieter brothers, though they do have a bit of a mischievous streak. They like books as much as you do, so you should get along fine. Just don't eat apples around them. Malnos is allergic."

She cocked an eyebrow. "I didn't know demon could get allergies."

"You're allergic to pine, aren't you?"

"Touché." She paused. "How did you know that?"

"Unlike your mother, our fathers tell us everything about the princess we compete for." He shifted, his hand moving down from her waist to her hip. "The older demon, the red one, is Parthos. His father, Tharanx, is also a secondary demon. He works in the Lust circle. He's the gentle giant of your selections. He can't fight, he won't chain people up and he doesn't eat human flesh. But the man makes a mean soufflé. Trust me, I've tried it. Something even the saints haven't tasted." He laughed at his remark.

The last one is Helion. He's the young-looking one. His father is the ruler the Greed circle, Falsion. The man himself is fine, but his son's a brat. If he doesn't get what he wants when he wants, he pitches the most epic tantrums you've ever seen. And to think he's nearly three hundred."

"He looks like Justin Bieber," she said with a grimace.

"Strange. I though all teenage girls were obsessed with him." His tone was quizzical, as if he didn't understand her hatred of the singer.

"Not this one." Her tone was darker, cutting off that bit of the conversation. "So one's a womanizer who doesn't give a shit about me. Another looks like an annoying teenage boy. And the last one bites. Well, that's three I don't have to worry about picking. I'll ask Lucifer to remove them from the competition in the morning."

"Process of elimination," Lyzander mumbled into her hair. "Ah, and by the way, you don't have until morning. You have about five minutes."

She turned her head to look at him. "What?"

The door to her room burst open. "KARA GENEVIEVE HAVEN!"

Ugh. Genevieve. She thought with a grimace.

It was bad enough that her mother had given her a French name without ever visiting France, but the fact that she pronounced it the French way drove Kara nuts.

She rolled back over to see her mother standing inside the doorway to her bedroom, a panicked look on her face. Her hair was wild, as if she'd run the entire layout of Hell in record time. She was breathing in harsh gasps, clearly winded from her run.

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!" She stormed over to the bed, grabbing Kara's wrist and jerking her sharply away from Lyzander's embrace. "You have to pick your next prince now!" She pulled again, yanking her off the bed and dragging her out the door.

"But I'm naked!" Panic set in. The princes had seen her before in the thinnest of robes and their faces had nearly split in half from their smiles. She could only imagine their reaction if they saw her naked.

"That's your own fault. If you hadn't been wasting time with Lyzander, you could have put on some decent clothes. But you didn't, so you'll just have to go naked."

"But I..." Kara looked back to see Lyzander lying on his side on her bed, still completely naked. A look of pained annoyance crossed her face, clearly disappointed to see her go. She gave him a sympathetic look, telling him she felt the same way. He offered her a soft smile in return.

They raced down the long hallway, bursting through the massive double doors that led to the cavernous meeting hall. The demons already conversing in the hall turned to look at them. Kara felt dozens of pairs of eyes on her naked from. Blushing furiously, she searched the room for something to focus on, something to help her avoid making eye contact. She settled on the stained glass window above hall the peered into the human world. Above them the sky radiated fluorescent gold and pink, indicating sunset.

"I found her!" her mother announced. Kara was faintly certain that the people of Scotland heard her mother's declaration.

"Wonderful!" Lucifer's voice boomed around the hall. He stepped away from a group of demons, making his way over to her. Instinctively, Kara tried to cover herself. Lucifer stopped a foot in front of her, smiling.

"Ah, good. You're properly dressed. Now." He placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her to the center of the room. The remaining princes -- absent Darian, Lyzander and Ladrian -- stood in a line. "You may choose again. Which price captures your interest this time?"

She looked at the princes in front of her. The twins smiled to each other hopefully, straightening themselves in an attempt to catch her attention. The other brothers smiled mischievously at her, making her quickly look to the older demon. Parthos, still eyeless, smiled softly at her, making her wonder how - if - he could see. Justin Bieber's twin Helion also smiled at her. His smile was arrogant, as if he expected her to pick him immediately. Memnon stared off into the distance again, not caring at all about his duty to marry a princess. She had the sudden urge to pick him out of spite, then she thought better of it.

Okay. I have the twins who should be a safe bet. The other brothers look like they just set fire to something and are waiting for the panic to start. Parthos is probably the safest bet, but I'm not sure I want someone who can cook better than I can. Memnon doesn't give a rat's ass about me and the brat is acting bratty. So that leaves the two sets of brothers.

She chewed her lip for a moment, watching the princes who were interested in her try to get her attention. The two sets of brothers made the biggest attempts to catch her eye, with Parthos trailing behind but giving it an honest shot. Helion stood like a statue, still smiling conceitedly. Never a daredevil, she decided to take a risk for once in her life and choose the opposite of what she normally would.

She turned to stare up a Lucifer. "The twins."

His face lit up. "Excellent choices." He turned to face the line of princes. "Riordan. Tristan. You may go ready yourselves."

She watched at the twins grinned at her, then each other. They turned and ran out of the hall, obviously thrilled to have been chosen. The rest stared at the floor, disappointed. Memnon, however, had locked eyes with a tall succubus and was making strange faces at her.

She felt a twinge of guilt for Parthos who, being the oldest of her suitors, was at a definite disadvantage. She made a mental note to pick him in the next round. At least that way she could see if he was as passionate as his competitors and had a fighting chance.

She snapped herself out of her observations and turned back to Lucifer. "Sir?"