This installment of Daemonique is nicely long and full of just-on-the-edge erotically charged content, so I'm really pleased with it and want to share a little more than usual. This excerpt has also been updated from the previous teaser with editing and proofing passes. If you'd like to skip to the second excerpt, scroll to the centered (Skipping ahead) marker.
These excerpts are relatively light compared to the book as a whole, which includes instances of Bondage, Domination, Sadism & Masochism, sexual biting & scratching, oral sex & smothering, Xianesh gaining (and vividly using) a penis of her own, because it's her show and she has a very good reason to need it.
The excerpts consist more of contortion bondage, fear, teasing strokes, fingering, forced orgasm and scene-setting.
Excerpts follow the pagebreak:
* * * *
Nothing made any sense, and nothing felt at all real. In
the darkest nest, deep under the ground and away from the light of what was
good and pure, a demonic host bided its time in captivity. The halls seemed
endless, for the prison dug into the ground spanned most of the island it was
built into. Everyone knew that, and that was not the problem.
The problem was that Sylenna Lightstride – an almost frail
seeming little elf, a sun-haired woman with sharp ears and bright eyes – did
not belong down here. She belonged on the surface, fighting their kind back to
their prisons. That was where she had begun, and where she would have liked to
have remained, but Warden Sylenna Lightstride had vanished, presumed dead till
proven otherwise.
It was unlikely the others would search for an elf very hard, as her kind were frowned
upon outside the island as untrustworthy tricksters, cutthroats and eldritch
magic users. The bond between every Warden was stronger than blood, but it was
still easier to assume another forsaken than comb the island for sign of them
and risk capture themselves. There simply wasn’t the manpower.
“You’ve been
abandoned to your fate.” A voice whispered to her from beyond the darkness,
and it took Sylenna’s attention fully. She could not speak, see, nor move, but
she could listen. The voice held power, strength and things she had forgotten
or lost. Dignity and pride.
“All alone, all but
for those around you now. What gifts and blessings they’ve bestowed upon you,
what fullness of life.” It
whispered to her very soul, if she could still claim to own such a thing, and
her body twitched in memory. She had been bent by that demonic host, ravaged
and used for their most sordid pleasures with only the slightest care to keep
her alive till seemingly every last one had taken its turn.
Just when Sylenna had thought she’d experienced the worst
they had to offer; not one, and not a host, but two had taken her at the same
time. Dark magic had revived her from the edge of unconsciousness and sharpened
her broken mind so she might appreciate her freefall from grace. What that made
of her now, she had no idea. Perhaps the whispering voice full of power and
purpose knew. Perhaps it would give her new meaning.
“So ashamed, weren’t
you? Ashamed of falling to lust, to being seen as a lesser race by those you
desired. Well, now you’re free, little one. Free.” It told her, so assured
as to declare her freedom. Sylenna twitched again. Her muscles were starting to
hurt, and she could feel something in her throat. It felt as if she should want
to sick up, but her throat was too taught to allow it, too flexed and full of
something that had the force to push back at her convulsions.
It didn’t hurt,
and somehow it almost felt good to her. How could something in her throat feel
good? A flash of memory rushed before her blinded eyes. Being impaled on a
demonic shaft so deep down her throat that she hadn’t been able to move her
head and even hung in the air,
impaled on it at one end just as the one inside her womb impaled the other end.
Her feet and fingers had dangled above the floor freely. That should have
repulsed her. Nothing made any sense, but she knew that memory was real. She
knew as surely as the lacing of fire starting to tingle in her contorted limbs.
All of it had
happened, but now? Now she was free?
Blind, mute and unable to move didn’t feel very free to
Sylenna. While she couldn’t see – for whatever it was wrapped around her head
like an eyeless mask – she could feel her feet were behind the tips of her long
ears quite clearly. Her arms also hugged her thighs, meaning they were folded
up at the waist. The image that sprung to mind showed her so immediately
exposed and shown off enough to make her flinch and clench, attempting to pull
her legs down. The milk-white little bud of flesh between her thighs only
twitched slightly. There would be no hiding it.
“You have nothing
left to hide. Nothing left to fear. You are mine, now.” The voice whispered again, such a simple thing, but the
words sunk into and vibrated off something within Sylenna. They reverberated
within her, shook and soothed her. No one had ever laid claim to her, never
calmed and given her a sense of belonging like that before. She had bowed to
the Church in faith and hope of redemption, true, but they had only accepted
her begrudgingly.
Sylenna had let the feeling pass, slip into the dark recess
of her mind, for they gave her purpose and reason enough to focus on ahead. All
that was shattered now. Laid bare, lost, abandoned. In its place; something so
much more. She wanted to know who or what was speaking to her in such a way.
She wanted to understand, to reach out and embrace it, but her hands were tied
at the small of her back.
Wiggling and reaching, Sylenna could feel the soft curve of
her rear in front and the steely grid of a wall behind her. Hung up on it,
then, like something on display. Somehow, the image filled her with no shame.
Memories of things done to her returned. Of course, why should this shame her
when she had been driven to such extremes before that crowd? Surely, to be
before this voice, this presence of power bared naked was a blessing and
privilege.
Sylenna’s upturned thighs suddenly stung with warmth. Something
was touching her, and it made her quiver in anxious fear, as much as her body
was capable of movement in the humiliating and liberating posture she had. Sharp
nails traced across her skin, the stuff of nightmares that could as quickly
rend the flesh from her. Was she afraid the voice intended to end her?
The thing in her throat wrenched a guttural
whimper from her as she tried to focus on anything but that thought. She wanted
to belong, to have purpose and live,
to be anything but destroyed and forgotten. Sylenna recalled the last time she
had hurt this way – it had not been so long ago. She had wrestled free of a
succubus’ trap and signalled the threat of demons in the open. She had left to
fight them, but her chest hurt. Her neck hurt. Her head hurt, and her heart! It
felt as if she was the one whom had been stabbed instead of the succubus she’d
wrestled down.
She had felt as though she were heartbroken and fleeing men
that had rejected her to cry alone and forgotten. It made no sense, but she hadn’t
been able to quash the feeling. She hadn’t wanted to be near those she called
for reinforcement, those who saw her in such a way. Abandoned.
Another sharp gasp of a sob took her, muffled and strangled
by the leeching creature content to plug and strain her throat. The darkest
reaches of her mind had spilled out, overtaken and consumed her with the truths
of the world that simply did not care for her as she wished it to. Even so, she
did not wish to be destroyed and lost. The voice gave her feeling of purpose.
“Hush, it’s alright
now, little one. No one will harm this heart of yours again, you have my
promise.” The voice whispered so tenderly as that she could believe in it.
A gentle, so soft and tender hand stroked and cupped her voluptuous breast with
warmth. It made flames of heat and passion burst within her immediately. That
the being behind those words – the one giving her promise of salvation – was a
powerful demoness, the owner of those sharp claws that prickled her skin and
sent chills up her spine did not come into reasoning.
The little elf’s back bowed off the wall, forcing another
weak mewl from her throat as she pushed into the hand touching her breast.
Xianesh – towering Avez’teria
demoness, the cloven hoofed Underwarden smiled with plush black lips and
blacker eyes that stared down the wall-bound elf. One so strong, so talented
had fallen fully into her grasp. Good.
(Skipping ahead)
Clawed fingers slowly grazed down the wonderfully presented
elf’s milky smooth and pale stomach, and the reflexive quiver and muffled
whimper she gave was something Xianesh truly adored. The little quirk of fear was
like a candle threatening to gutter out in a breeze before burning brighter
than before. It was a sensation among many Xianesh savoured. Certainly, after
the knife-eared little blonde thing's display of defiance to wilt in her cage
under Xianesh’s presence, she didn’t mind subjecting the elf to a little fear,
now.
It'd been strange, for such a delicate seeming thing to
have such stoic and even vicious demeanour, but Xianesh understood why, now.
Now, everything was clear.
“You need not fear for
the little ring you’ve lost.” Xianesh whispered in a dark, sultry tone that
would have been lost under the raucous shouting of the crowd in her main hall. She
needed no verbal response to know the elf understood, as Sylenna went rigidly
silent. Not turning towards the voice, but attentive.
“That was all that was feeding you courage and
strength in the world above, wasn’t it? Satisfy what I desire of you and that
strength will be returned tenfold.” Xianesh crooned, her smile broad and
wicked. She had been right to have the elf’s things brought to her, and she was
right about the energy she could feel in the simple band.
Forged on holy ground in the cathedral Xianesh had
witnessed through imparted visions, it had been simple to unravel and bend to
her will, so far from its precious holy light. That it was moonstone only
brought the elf closer to her cause, for the night time had always been seen as
the time of trickery, witchcraft and demonhood.
How strange for them to craft in the shadow of the Deceiver,
never less offer it up to an elf looking for salvation in faith. Perhaps they
thought it fitting to the dark path they suspected her to already follow at the
time. That no longer mattered, and Xianesh would thank them for the hooks it
placed in the girl before her, hooks that would ease drawing her into the dark.
That was enough talk, however. Enough thoughts and
considerations of what would become of it all. Now was time for pleasures to be
shared, for bodies to twine and become lost in the most base of mortal sins. Here
and now, Sylenna Lightstride was but an object of Xianesh's will and desire. A
tool, toy, plaything and conduit for the Underwarden’s darkest desires.
Xianesh slowly scratched her fingers across the rounded
swell of the elf's upturned rear and lounged her gaze upward from the little centrepiece
flower waiting to be despoiled to the elf’s face. Well, the elf’s face behind
the encompassing black mask, at least. The little parasite gripped and wrapped
around her face quite snugly, leaving her hair and ears to droop overhead. A
stark contrast of bright hair to the blank void that hid her face.
The shadowy creature was an amusing little thing of
darkness Xianesh had cultivated from the dark recesses of the void, summoned as
a thoughtform of inspired madness. It clung to the elf’s face like a second
skin, as smooth as to look as though simply a thick layer of paint or clingy
material. It was a sheer mask of liquid night, so sleek as to shimmer
reflectively in the dim light of the chamber, as if expelling and rejecting the
sources of illumination. The elf would be unable to see the faintest thing
through it, no matter how good her eyesight was.
The thing was a marvel and treasured for any number of
tasks. At first, its purpose was to clean up and empty those brought to her chambers
after having been filled to the brim by her demonic host. Xianesh had found
they performed much better and more agreeably when they were not groggy and
bloated with cum. The swollen bulge of the elf’s neck that slowly pulsed as if
she were swallowing, but up rather than down was evidence enough of its grip on
her.
Xianesh leant in, smiling softly and pressing her lips to
the quivering throat in an almost intimate and tender motion. The delicate skin
was slick with perspired fear. So sweet a taste as to will Xianesh to drag her
tongue up across it, brushing the elf with lips and fangs harmlessly.
Harmlessly, though not devoid of threat. The elf’s throat
quivered and convulsed. Her head tilted away to try and avoid that caress and
the threat of those fangs puncturing her vitals.
It was futile, of course, and only served to make Xianesh’s
smile widen darkly. Pressing her much heavier figure in against the elf, Xianesh
smothered her with that richly dark purple skin and saw to clamping the plush
ebon lips down on Sylenna’s neck. The little elf squeaked and writhed, but there
was no escaping the unholy warmth of the Underwarden’s body, nor the ominous
fear that she was to be killed within that kiss that could so easily rend and
tear.
With her lips firmly in place – barely moving beyond suckling
and gentle squeezes – Xianesh’s hands roamed and contended with slowly fondling
and scraping the little elf’s rear. Her caress didn’t yet leave marks, but the
tingle she put into the quivering little thing promised it would be very easy
to do so. Those freely searching hands slid upward and inward, brushing the
undersides of the elf’s legs to meet on her undulating stomach. Such a soft and
firm little thing with just a little fleshy squeeze to it.
Pushing in on that squish, Xianesh slid one of her hands
down over the supple front, making sure the elf felt the gentle graze of nails
along her skin as the other hand roamed upward to take the breast she had not
touched last time into her hand. There was a disparity between the colouring of
the elf’s nipples – one a soft pink and the other an engorged red. That needed
to be fixed.
The tingling scrape of the lower hand fell into that
crevice between the elf’s legs, brushing soft fingertips over the supple little
mounds before lifting away and turning to brushing the back of her hand across
the slit with a tender caress. From how the elf whimpered and shook, the intended
effects she was playing out – imminent threat and gentle perusal – were perfectly
received.
Slowly crooking and pointing one of those fingers down at
the Elf’s quivering sex, she paused there for a moment to give the girl a sense
of what was going to happen, and the resulting twitch told her the realisation
had hit her quite firmly. Xianesh nudged forward only slightly to press the
clawed tip of her finger between the puffed mounds, tracing up and down so
agonisingly slowly to gauge the girl’s shape and size as much as torment her
with the true feeling being withheld.
With her lips squeezing on the elf’s neck and body brushing
against her prey, Xianesh’s tail swayed and curled slightly in a show of simple
pleasure. She enjoyed these little games greatly, when given a chance to. Her
finger traced and brushed the entrance slowly, ignoring the elf’s whimpering
twitches. Soon enough.
Without warning, the finger moved, stiffened and slid
inside. While she had begun with agonisingly slow touches, she would not leave
her plaything to a sense of familiarity, nor wanting. The finger pierced and
split the yielding lips in two around it with a fleshy squelch. Feeling it finally
break through and fill her, the little elf muffled a strangled wail behind her
gag and shook in her bonds hopelessly.
Xianesh watched as the elf’s hands flailed and clenched
behind the peach-curved rear cutely. She only needed to slowly push or pull her
digit to make her plaything shake. It was good to see her so spirited after
being stripped down and fed to her host. Some had come from that with a blank
stare of the living dead. Granted, the voidflame of the von’temarak had seen to curing that ailment, and she could abide
allowing them their reward for the service. More so than reward, even, it
seemed to aid in breaking down the remainder of barriers mortals had to her. They
had their uses, if even if she didn’t wish to make their worth a grand deal.
Pulling her lips away from Sylenna’s neck, Xianesh lapped
at the spot she’d marked out to savour the taste as she shifted for a better
view of her plaything without the need to remove her hands. The one intently
groping the Elf’s breast simply kneaded and stirred the fleshy orb, twisting
and pulling on the cherry coloured nipple being stretched and pinched between a
pair of her thick fingers.
The other hand twisted and rubbed across the squelching
little slit, the finger inside Sylenna pressing and stroking against her walls
tenderly in a way she’d likely never been touched before. Perhaps the horde the
little elf had been left to play with had done so, but amid the mass of
fingers, lips and everything else being pushed into her face, it was unlikely
she truly felt anything as delicate and precise as this.
Well, Xianesh knew just how to make the elf feel it. By curling the finger and stabbing
the sharp tip of her nail against what Xianesh knew very well would be the
girl’s g-spot. The needle-point of pressure caused a pitched, muffled scream
before the slick little mound her finger was buried in simply erupted in a
clear squirt of orgasm, twitching and puffing angrily.
Xianesh watched silently – if appraisingly of the girl’s
force, the spurt of juices slicked up her stomach and across her arm – and even
smiled as what were once wracking sobs and nervous shakes melted into quivers
and mewls of sexual relief. She could have fun pushing this one’s buttons in
ways they never had been and showing her the truth of carnal ecstasy.
With that in mind, Xianesh unceremoniously pulled her
finger back and disengaged from her plaything. She watched the little elf
whimper and shiver in confusion out the corner of her eye while licking her
hand and arm clean of the sweet juices. She could see from the furrowing brows
behind the dark mask, Sylenna’s mind was already struggling to come to terms
with her newfound desire.
The warmth left behind by Xianesh’s body being pressed
against Sylenna would do nothing to make the throbbing sense of awe easier on
her, either, but knowing what the jolt of immediate, forced orgasm had come
from clearly shook the little elf to the core. Knowing that somehow a single
touch had summoned forth such a sharp and pure flourish of stimulus and emotion
was terrifying to Sylenna, who’d never experienced such bliss in her life.
It left her feeling small, vulnerable and bared before the
demoness. Leaving the little elf to brood on her situation, Xianesh looked to
the things within her chamber. She could just ravage the little thing there
against the wall, but that wasn’t nearly as much fun as she could have with it.
No, there were grander things she could do that required moving and ‘adjusting’
her some. Chains, and binding bars. Neither were difficult to come by in this
room, and that was its charm.
Get the full story and the end of Sylenna Lightstride's journey from any of the following:
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