Keeping her gaze lowered, Syllabelle shivered, the energy trapped inside writhing, firing her blood anew.
“Yes master,” she whispered, longing to look up. It had been so long since she’d been in his presence the urge to devour him with her gaze was almost too strong to overcome. “I hope to please you.”
“We shall see.” Theodictus’s voice rasped over her skin like the rough tongue of a cat, causing her to tremble even more, need twisting deep in her belly.
Chancing his annoyance she shuffled a little closer on her knees, until his strong bare feet came into her line of sight. “All I desire is your approval.”
Theodictus laughed, a boom of sound that ricocheted through her bones and made yearning flare and pop through her body. Her breasts ached and her cunt throbbed in time with his mirth.
“Is it, sweetling?” His feet shifted, moved farther apart, toes curling slightly into the smooth stone floor. “Is there nothing else you want from your master?”
The mocking tone, the hint of cruelty, caused fear to blossom cold in her belly, but also heightened her need.
Careful, she told herself, careful.
“I also desire your pleasure, and if it should please you to send me away…”
He was silent for so long fear turned to terror, and she envisioned once more being sent to the incubi who, in greed and desperation, would carelessly suck her carefully collected tribute away. The thought almost made her beg, plead, but that would only make it worse. So, instead, she chose meek stillness, holding her breath as she waited.
Finally, when she could hardly bear the quietude a moment longer, Theodictus chuckled.
“Convince me it is worth my while to receive what you have brought. If it pleases me, I will take what you have to give. Tell me of the hunt.”
Relief stole her breath, and she was forced to inhale deeply, taking in the scent of his expensive cologne, the elusive, underlying hint of brimstone, before she could reply.
“Would it please you, master, to see it instead?”
She heard his hissed breath, the rush of movement as he sat forward, and inwardly smiled. Theodictus was her master, but she knew him well. Her skill at retaining the remnants of her hunts, ability to hold and transmit them, was unusual among her kind. It raised her value and, although she knew it would never be enough to keep her completely safe, she’d honed it during her banishment.
“You’ve worked hard, little one, to regain my favor.” The harsh words filled her with pride, but she tamped it down, for just such an emotion had led to her previous punishment. The centuries spent slowly starved of sustenance, and then being mauled by the incubi, had taught a painful lesson.
“Yes, master.”
Again silence, but now it hung heavy, like a humid pall laced with arousal between them. Suddenly his leg moved, one foot coming to rest against her knee.
“Show me what you have for me.”
The breath she took shuddered into her lungs and, as she reached out a trembling hand to caress his foot, she released one memory—
He was the look-out in an alley, the drug dealer’s boy, a hard case scrabbling up the twisted ladder of his chosen profession, unafraid and always ready for the worse. Around him bubbled an aura so black and angry it washed like acid over Syllabelle’s skin.
Turning, he saw her coming into the moonlight, reached instinctively for his gun. Then the fact of her unarmed nakedness broke through, and he smiled.
By then she was close enough to cup his cheeks, capture his glittering gaze with hers.
“You are mine,” she whispered. “All mine.”
He struggled, unwilling to submit, bow to anyone. But she had him, refused to release her hold, and when she took his lips he surrendered all at once, flooding her with his desperate, angry desire.
Pushing him against the wall, she undid the heavy belt buckle, unfastened his jeans. He pushed the pants down, low growls of need pulsing from his throat and into her mouth.
“Be still now,” she whispered, delving deep into his psyche, finding the one moment in his life he never, ever wanted to let go—pulling him back into it. “Be still, and come with me.”
“Oh, geez, Cindy.” His voice was suddenly so young, and he was once more looking down at the sweet-faced blonde kneeling between his trembling legs. She’d left her tank top pulled up so her creamy breasts swung free, the nipples tight and wet with his saliva. Her Cupid’s bow mouth was slightly open, glistening from his kisses. “You don’t have to.”
The tip of her tongue peeked out from between innocently curved lips, and he groaned.
“I want to.” Her eyes were so blue they could have been shards of a summer sky. “I have to taste you. I’ve wanted to for so long.”
Around them in the dank basement lay the remnants of his poverty-stricken life—a sofa so moldy he wouldn’t even let her sit on it, the boxes his old man had tossed down the stairs and forgotten. But as the warm, succulent mouth touched his cock for the first time, and her tongue slicked a silken path around the head, he was suddenly richer than any other man in the world.
Drawing back, eyelids heavy with passion, she smiled, and his heart slammed with happiness. “You taste so good, baby.” She licked her lips again, and his balls tightened to the point of pain. “I love the shape of your cock, how hard and soft it is, all at the same time.”
“Don’t Cindy.” He could hardly speak, already hovering on the edge of coming just from hearing those words from her sweet lips. “Don’t talk like that.”
In reply she licked a path of warm fire down to his sac and back up again. “Why not, Hmmm?”
The last part of her question was hummed around the head of his dick, and he stiffened, pushed her gently away, almost dying from the suction she kept on him right until he was released.
“You’ll make me come, Cindy.”
“I want you to.” Soft fingers touched his balls, and her breath puffed against his aching flesh. “I want to watch you blow your wad.”
“Cindy.” The word wheezed from his throat, and she giggled softly, palming his cock, wrapping her fingers around it, pumping.
“I wish we could fuck,” she whispered, “and I could feel you inside me. I want to spread my legs and let you look at my pussy, suck on it the way you suck my tits, until I’m screaming and begging you to take me.”
All he could do was groan, imagining it, feeling the wet heat of her virgin cunt surrounding him, milking him as she screamed his name, her ass flailing under him, his balls slamming against her.
“Fuck,” he shouted, as she took him deep into her throat. Fantasy merged with reality, and he pumped into that innocent, fucking incredible mouth, the come shooting out of him like bullets from an automatic weapon…
Shuddering from the transfer of memory, reliving the orgasm she’d had while stealing the oblivious drug dealer’s seed, energy and memory, Syllabelle stroked the burning hot flesh beneath her fingers. Theodictus’s harsh breathing echoed through the chamber, each rasp of sound filling her with delight.
“A hard man returned to the most innocent and thrilling sexual experience of his life.” The demon’s voice was soft, just a rumble of sound. “Intriguing, Syllabelle.”
He withdrew his foot, and she felt the loss like a blow.
“Did it please you, master?”
She hadn’t meant to ask, for to show Theodictus any weakness was to court disaster, but the words emerged before she could stop them. For a long moment he didn’t answer, but then his feet shifted farther apart.
“It is good.” There was no mistaking the lust coloring his words. “I will take your tribute.”
“There is more, master.”
A growl of pleasure, quickly curtailed, broke from his chest, but he couldn’t hide his eagerness as he said, “Another? Give it to me.” Grasping her hair, he pulled her forward, so her lips were a hair’s breadth from his cock. “What else do you have for me, Syllabelle? I want to know.”
The thick rasp of his voice betrayed his excitement, and triumph struck fire through her veins as she leaned to take his cock deep into her mouth and release the memory…
She made him chase her, never staying in one section of the club long enough for him to make his move. The hunter was actually the hunted, although he would never acknowledge such a thing as possible.
Flaunting his body on the dance floor, he rolled his hips in perfect time to the music, pretending not to see the way the women watched, the interest and desire etched on their faces.
After teasing him, keeping him running for an hour or more, Syllabelle let him catch her gaze, give her one of his long, lust-inducing stares. She pouted slightly, as if deliberating whether to encourage him or not, and then turned away, heading for the exit.
By the time she had turned into the alley running alongside the building he was coming behind her, his arousal and anger reaching to envelop her. One hand closed over her breast while the other fastened around her throat.
“Glad you waited for me, bitch.”
She laughed as she twisted, swung around to immobilize him in an arm-lock. Before he knew what was happening, he was on his knees. Twisting her fingers into his hair, Syllabelle yanked his head back, forcing him to look up at her as she loomed behind him.
“Glad you could make it, asshole.”
“What the fu—?”
But she had him, was already inside him, scouring his brain, holding him in thrall. She released his arm and it fell, limp, to his side. She retained the punishing grip on his hair.
“What were you going to do, Gavin? Tell me, now.”
“Fuck you up against the wall, from behind.” His voice was thick, and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. “Give it to you good.”
“Really?” She touched his throat above the Adam’s apple, giving him a taste of her power—just a sharp jolt—enough to make him whimper and tremble. “You don’t know how to give it to a woman good, Gav, but I think I’d like to teach you.” He whimpered again, a pleading sound, and she laughed softly. “Are you hard, little man?”
He had to tell the truth—had no choice with her power driving into him like spikes.
His eyes were stretched wide, his mouth worked to get the single word out. “Yes.”
She stepped around him, still grasping his hair, laughed again at the sight of a tear escaping to trail down his cheek.
“Do you suck pussy, Gav?”
Her scorn made him flinch. “No, never,” he whispered. “I don’t have to do that kind of thing to get a woman hot.”
“So, you like your women hot?” Stepping forward put her crotch right in front of his chin. “And think your ridiculous, deviant self enough to achieve that?” A little more power made his eyes roll back. A hard tug on his hair refocused his attention on her face. “Stick out your tongue, worm.”
There was no hesitation in his response, and she lifted her skirt, straddling his face, sliding her hell-hot pussy over his tongue, riding his mouth, letting the dominance pull her closer and closer to orgasm.
When she drew away he tried to follow, but her punishing grip kept him still.
With a flick of her wrist, she threw him onto his back and bent to shred his pants. In moments he lay naked from the waist down and moaning, cock standing straight up, the head purple, pre-come drizzling down the length. Stepping forward, she planted one foot beside his chest, the other so the heel of her stiletto rested on the bundle of nerves at the base of his pectoral muscle. His mouth opened on a soundless wail, and she smiled, lifted her skirt.
“You can’t satisfy me, Gav.” She parted the lips of her pussy, slicked a finger around her clitoris. “Any woman who’s with you will have to take care of herself.”
He gulped, tried to speak, but he was riveted on her fingers, now sliding into her cunt, gliding smoothly in and out. Tilting her hips, she brought herself to a hard, fast orgasm, moaning and mewling to torment him further.
Looking down into his glazed eyes, she backed away. Hooking the toe of her shoe under first one of his legs and then the other, she forced them up until they curled against his chest. His vulnerable position aroused her anew.
Turning, she squatted over his hips, roughly brought his cock into position. It was cool in comparison to her heat, and she felt his silent howl of pain, his instinctive attempt to thrust into her despite the agony. Laughing, she engulfed him, taking him deep, just as she plunged a finger into his arse, making him erupt, his screams echoing in her ears, joining her shout of satisfaction…
Theodictus shuddered, his cock pulsating with a primal rhythm in her throat.
“You minx,” he growled, holding her head, pushing deeper. “You know I love a revenge fuck.”
Syllabelle moaned her agreement, rubbing her tongue against the hard, silken flesh. The barriers of his power slipped beneath the onslaught of her gift, tempting her to test their strength, but she held back, let the cracks remain unexplored.
The fingers entwined in her hair yanked with brutal upward force and she was suddenly standing. Theodictus’s fiery gaze held hers as he bared his strong, white teeth in a parody of a smile.
“You have pleased me.” He tried to make it a gift, but she could see his greed and want. “I will take your tribute.”
Tugging her forward, he made her straddle his massive thighs. Fingers digging into her hips, he forced her down, thrusting up at the same time so he filled and stretched her completely. Holding onto the corded muscles of his shoulders, she rode his cock with long, fast strokes.
“Yes.” He closed his eyes, began to take the tribute, the rough suction of the transfer almost taking her to orgasm. “Give it to me.”
So she did—flooding him all at once with stored-up memories, creating a devastating wave of stimulation and culmination. He shuddered with ecstasy, not realizing the cracks in his dominance were turning to fissures, showing the way to his essence, the dark heart of his being.
With a cry of intense pleasure she latched on to it, still riding his thrusting, pulsing cock, gorging on the thick, intoxicating power. Theodictus bellowed, finally tried to break free, but it was too late. Syllabelle was already taking far more than she gave, sucking him dry, growing stronger until he had no choice but to keep fucking and fucking, howling in tandem with her shrieks of triumph.
“No,” he screamed. “What have you done?”
Gripping his face, she looked deep into his eyes, the horror there enough to make her grin. “Give me the last of it, Theodictus. It is time.”
His mouth worked, but no words came and she saw the exact, devastating moment he realized what was about to happen.
With a strangled cry of outrage at the inescapable bliss, he came, flooding her with the seed of hundreds, thousands of human men, tainted now with the remnants of his authority. It was almost the last of what he was, and he released it, unable to stop. Drained in every possible way, Theodictus’s form grew limp, and Syllabelle climbed off his lap to stand for a moment looking down at him. Although physically the same, his aura of command was gone, leaving him diminished. Slumped in the ornate chair he so loved, eyes closed as though unwilling to open and see the evidence of his fall.
“How?” he whispered.
She laughed lightly, saw his eyelids flicker. “I’m not sure, but I must thank you for it. Brutes though the incubi may be, it was being forced to service them that showed me it was possible. Releasing memories to them weakened their natural defenses against my taking their essences. If it was possible with them, wouldn’t it be with you? So I stored memories, knowing it would take many to overcome your power.”
He didn’t reply, but stepped down from the throne to kneel at her feet, head bowed in supplication.
“Mistress.”
The word filled her with a rush of need, but she ignored it. Beautiful Theodictus, the creator of her existence, would always be a danger. In a millennium or so he might regain his power—through connivance or unforeseen happenstance—and she couldn’t risk keeping him in her realm.
But there was time enough to enjoy the moment, savor the heady knowledge of having her first minion. Stepping around him, she took her place on the throne, and spread her legs wide.
“Theodictus,” she said softly, aware that even they who serve have feelings. “Please me.”
Hatred, fear and desire burned in his gaze but, obedient, he covered her pussy with his mouth, wicked tongue dancing over her aroused and sensitized flesh. Curling fingers into his midnight locks, she tugged him closer, ground against his face. With thighs closing tight around his head she began to feed, surprised at how much life force he still possessed. The rumble of Theodictus’s moan pushed her to ecstasy.
Perhaps she would keep him for a century or so.
Good minions were so hard to find.
