Asmodeus - Demon Of Lust: Part 5 free porn video

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Part 5

Memories of the past day filter through my dazed mind like evidence at a court hearing. All day I’ve experienced irrational emotions; jealousy, betrayal, sorrow and anger, all leading to uncontrollable tears and how could I forget the bouts of nausea? I should have known, the evidence was there, but how could I have guessed? I’m sure women don’t usually feel the effects of pregnancy the day after conception... Right?

I step away from my lover, then run a hand over the soft flesh of my abdomen and am startled to feel a small hardness underneath. Even with my non-existent knowledge of pregnancy, I know that it’s way too early me to have a little bump already!

“How is this possible?” I whisper more to myself than to Asmodeus.

But of course, that is like asking how it’s possible for demons to exist. As I struggle to digest yet another impossibility proven entirely viable, I remember that Asmodeus mentioned something about nine days. He said that I would have to endure mind-numbing pain everyday for nine days, but my question is what happens after?

Surely not what I’m thinking now, right?

The demon king answers for me, his words shattering my last glimmer of desperate hope.

“The child will be born in nine days time. Regrettably, until that day is upon us you will have to endure the... discomfort associated with his growth, for he will grow quickly.”

Born in nine days?! I release a guttural scream of anguish and fall to my knees as my last scrap of fighting spirit escapes. Raw and unrelenting sobs choke me as I cradle my head in my arms and dread the days to come.

The nausea which has been plaguing me finally rears its ugly head, triggering violent heaving and retching; my stomach already too empty to expel anything. Asmodeus is kneeling by my side in a flash, supporting my convulsing body and pulling my hair back as bile scorches my throat on its way out.

As soon as I have gained a little more control over my raging body, I use what little strength I have left to scramble away from him.

“Get away from me,” I croak, “please, just... leave me alone.”

I stagger to the bed and sink down onto it as pure exhaustion drags me further into my suffocating depression. The demon leaves like I asked him to, not even bothering to seal the exit. If I could leave, now would be the perfect opportunity.

But how can I, with this thing growing inside me? Where would I go? How would I explain when the time came, the birth of a creature with a pointed tail and red eyes?

I couldn’t.

No one would believe me anyway, even with the evidence right there in front of them. They would pass it off as a freak of nature, maybe study it for a time; try to fix the problem. And all the while the creature would grow, becoming more like its father with each passing day.

What havoc with such a beast inflict on the world? How would I live with myself knowing that I’d unleashed the spawn of a monster on mankind?

Speak of the devil and Asmodeus is back, interrupting my dark thoughts. He is not alone though, and is followed closely by a slender demoness with rich burgundy skin, dark hair and yellow eyes. Her long tail is tucked between her legs in fear of her master; the end curled around her ankle. Although she wears nothing more than coarse breast bindings and a short skirt, I am suddenly painfully aware of my own nakedness, which hadn’t bothered me as much when I was alone with my lover but now has me self-conscious and embarrassed.

Pulling a satin sheet free and wrapping it around my aching body, I lift myself off the bed, gripping one of the iron posts and ignoring my screaming muscles. Wearily, I take a step towards them, too tired to be properly pissed off. Darkness creeps into the corners of my vision and when I rub my eyes, phantom black spots dance across my line of sight. A high pitched whine echoes in my ears from all directions and does not ease up, no matter which way I turn my head. Asmodeus says something, but I can’t hear him over the never-ending nails on a chalkboard squeal in my head.

“I thought I told you to leave me the fuck alone.” I slur back, and hear a gasp from the bitch he brought with him.

This makes me laugh, feverishly and without restraint until I feel the world tilt and see the earth rush up at me. Hot, strong arms catch me before the ground breaks me and I feel them tighten around my limp form. I’ve lost all control of my motor functions. My head lolls to one side and feels as if it has been stuffed full of cotton; I can’t even muster up any panic, let alone figure out what’s wrong with me.

I lose track of time and in my delirium, one minute seems to stretch an eternity. Vaguely I’m aware that a cool liquid is being poured into my parched mouth. I gulp it down greedily. The water revitalises me somewhat and I lift my arms up in fierce desperation, gripping the bowl tightly and attempting to pour my salvation faster down my throat. I choke in my haste, wheezing the liquid out of my lungs as the bowl is ripped away from me. No matter, I’ve had enough for now and let the comforting numbness of oblivion claim me.

I sleep like the dead, revived only by the start of that familiar ache in my womb. Oh, great God why can’t I just sleep through this part?

I moan in frustrated despair, as the agony assaults me again and I thrash on the bed I’ve been placed on. Biting into a pillow I scream my hatred and suffering at no one, because Asmodeus isn’t here. I cry until I have nothing left and wait, forever it seems for this soul wrenching horror to end.

When it is finally over, I realise that I am not truly alone. The demoness who came in earlier with Asmodeus is still here, standing by the foot of the bed. When she sees that I’m in control again she rushes toward me with another bowl of water. Panting hard and still gripping the pillow tightly, I glare up at her, too shattered to speak.

She slips a small, strong hand behind my head and tilts it up before pressing the rim of the bowl to my lips for me. When I’m finished, she lowers my head back down gently and covers my fevered body with a soft, light sheet. Unable to fight off the immense strength of my fatigue, I fall into a deep sleep yet again.

* * * * *

The demoness is still hovering over me when I finally open my eyes. She offers me more water which I accept and down quickly, still lying down with my head supported again. After I have had my fill, I gingerly lift myself up into sitting position, waving away the creature’s attempts at assistance. Panting with the exertion, I let my head fall heavily against the headboard and fight to steady my ragged breathing. The handmaid offers me more water, which I decline by turning my head away. I can’t stand being weak before a creature as gloriously strong and beautiful as she. I can see the strength in her long limbs and shapely body. She looks lovely and healthy, while I am a shadow of the woman I was just the day before. I feel frumpy and frail in comparison, not at all like a Queen of Demons.

Maybe I’m not, maybe I’m just the King’s breeder bitch and this is the real Queen. Maybe she will be, after the monster inside me sucks away all that I have, my life and then my soul.

Maybe I should let it.

No, I shouldn’t. I’ve always felt that giving up is the easy way out. I will not let this situation get the best of me. I have to fight.

Demon-bitch tries to coax me into having more water but again I resist, tucking my head further away from her and swiping blindly at the bowl in her hands. She fumbles with it for a second but cannot keep a good grip and I hear the satisfying crash of clay breaking against stone. A small victory, the first of many to come, I hope.

“Please, my lady, you are very weak; you must drink.” Her voice is husky and as beautiful as she is, but it’s also fragile and fearful, not at all what I expected.

The bitch is afraid of me.

The thought angers me. How can she – a demon no less – who is fit and healthy; be afraid of a bed-ridden invalid of a human woman who can barely sit up, let alone cause harm? It seems the message I left in my chambers has reached its intended audience.

Maybe this demon isn’t the Queen after all? Is the real queen still a part of me, lying dormant and broken in the darkest corner of my heart? Can I muster up the strength to become her once more? The thought makes me smile cruelly.

“I’m weak?” I ask softly, more to myself than her, before twisting to face her from the bed. “I’m weak? Your voice trembles with fear as you speak and you call me weak?”

“I – my lady, that is not... my lady?” she struggles to form the words, her body as shaky and stuttering as her voice; and I watch with malicious glee as the colour drains from her body, when I lift myself off the bed, using the nearest bedpost as a brace and a sheet as a toga.

“Do I look weak now, servant?” I hiss, releasing my grip on the post and taking a menacing step toward her. “Do I?”

“No, your majesty!”

Oh yes. It seems I still possess the power after all.

“I beseech you, my lady! Forgive me my insolence, I did not wish to slight you, I was merely stating-”

“Don’t you dare apologise and then try to justify your statement!” I scream and she jumps. I know that I’m being harsh, but frankly I don’t give a shit. I am drained, starved and beaten; and this bitch is grating my nerves.

“Forgive me-”

“You will learn to shut the fuck up when I am speaking, or I will have to teach you the hard way.”

Her face is ashen with pure terror but her mouth stays closed.

“Good. Now tell me; what is your name?”

Her eyes widen but she says nothing.

“When I ask a question, I expect an answer. Speak!”

“Th- they c-call me Ida, majesty.”

“And I am assuming that Asmodeus has assigned you as my handmaid. Am I correct, Ida?”

“Yes, my lady S-Selena. I am to aid you in your time of need, providing food and water, as well as assisting you during bathing and other necessities.” The words come out quickly and breathlessly as if she is afraid that I will punish her should she take too long to answer.

As she should be.

Her head is dipped in a bow of submission and her tail is curled tightly around her leg. She’s my bitch; and she knows it.

“Well then, Ida, ” I say, as she seems uncomfortable with my use of her name, “you can draw me a bath. Asmodeus gave you some of his power?”

“Yes, my Queen,” she replies, bowing her head down in compliance. As she summons a large, claw-footed metal tub from the earth, I drop onto the bed again, waiting for it to be filled. When it is, through another conveniently warm waterfall, I stumble toward it, shedding the sheet and climbing clumsily into the steaming water. I soak away the tension from my body, ordering Ida to bring me a bar of soap, a scouring sponge and a toothbrush. When I have scrubbed the sweat from my body and brushed away the furriness coating my teeth, I take Ida’s hand and let her haul me out of the tub.

I dry off using another vent and clothe myself once more with a fresh sheet. I’ve barely covered up before Ida is in my face again, this time offering to bring me food. My stomach growls at the thought, but I ignore it as I remember a myth about Persephone, Goddess of the Underworld and the consequences of eating a single morsel in the bowels of hell.

“No, that will not be necessary; I have no further need of you.”

“My lady, I have been order-” she begins, foolishly protesting against my dismissal.

The ground beneath her feet rumbles ominously and she crouches in horror, palms flat against the cave floor; attempting to steady herself. I tower above her, feeling the power coursing through my veins, thickening the very air I breathe and influencing the cave so formidably.

“Argue with me again,” I warn, in my most disquieting tone, “and you will suffer greatly for it.”

She kneels before me, bowing her head low at my feet, her whole frame quivering at the threat.

"Now leave me alone," I order, "LEAVE!"

She bolts for the exit, scrambling and stumbling in her haste.

When she is gone, I feel my energy drain away as quickly as it came. My shoulders slump and my body sags, swaying slightly as my vision darkens. My Queen-Bitch routine took more out of me than I expected.

I drag myself back toward the bed but I don't sit on it. I know if I do, that the darkness will claim me and I'll miss my chance. I'm so tired it hurts to keep my eyes open but there's something I have to do before I can let myself pass out.

Holding onto the bedpost again, I regret that I smashed the bowl of water. Really though, for me to properly regain my energy I would have to eat something, but thought repulses me.

Instead of conjuring up food or even water, I use the dregs of my dwindling power to summon a short stone pillar from the earth by my feet. So simple, yet so essential, this three foot column could be the key to my freedom.

I stand as close to it as I can, bracing myself for what I must do next. I take in a deep breath, trying to loosen the sudden tension in my body. Releasing the air does nothing to soothe me however and I feel an overwhelming panic begin to blossom in my chest. Once I do this, it cannot be undone. My breathing races and my heart thumps madly as I grip the smooth pillar, holding onto it as if it were a lifeline.

More like a tombstone.

The thought flits through my mind before I can stop it and I fall to my knees in grief.

I don’t think I can do this!

I sob uncontrollably, clinging onto the cold and unforgiving stone like a child to her mother’s skirt.

A child. It’s just a baby. How could I even think about...

But it’s not a norma baby. I have to end this, save the world from suffering, even to the cost of my own. I wipe away my tears with my forearms, rubbing my cheeks raw. Be strong Selena, I tell myself and pull my body up again. Keeping one foot placed firmly at the base of the pillar and stepping back with the other I brace once again. Gripping the stone tightly, I practice the movement slowly, thrusting my midsection forward. My womb makes gentle but threatening contact with the column; the height is just right. All I need now is the force.

I bite my lip hard to keep from crying again as I move back to the starting position. This will scar me, I know it will; not physically maybe, but psychologically... I will remember this until the day I die. And I will never forgive myself. But sacrifices must be made and maybe, when he finds out what I will have done, he’ll kill me before the guilt does.

I draw my waist as far back as my body will allow and align my swollen womb with the harsh rock. My heart thumps painfully in my ears as I start the mental countdown.

Three... My forearms ache with the tension as I grasp the stone.

Two... My breathing is laboured and shaky.

One... I scream in horror and launch my body forward.

Time slows down as my body shoots toward the pillar of pain and death. As soon as I set this plan into motion, two disturbances cause me to regret my actions. The first is a roar of grief and fury; Asmodeus has caught me in the act. I’m sure he’s sprinting with all his strength in an attempt to stop me but he’s too far away; only I can stop this and he’s not enough of a reason to. Unfortunately, the second disturbance is. The baby, my baby has chosen this moment to remind me that he is indeed a life and that denying him the right that life, just because I am afraid of what he might become is the worst of all sins. Yes, my demon child chooses this moment to make his presence known.

At the last possible second I veer off to my left, narrowly avoiding my originally intended full frontal collision with the column. My hip smashes into it instead and time catches up with me, until I’m sprawled out on the hard floor before I can fully comprehend what has happened. Luckily, although my hip hurts like a fucking bitch, the impact caused my body to turn somewhat as I fell so that I landed on my side rather than my belly.

I lie on my side and forget the world as I stroke the small bump that is my baby. His movements are slight, but I already feel him. How could I bear to hurt him now that he has suddenly become more than just a blind threat, more than just an idea? He’s become something tangible, something real and the thought that he almost wasn’t; and that I would have been the one responsible, is absolutely heart-crushing. At this very moment he is nothing more and nothing less than a small person, a little part of me and all I can process is the utter need to keep him safe from harm.

I curl into a protective ball around my baby and croon sweet nonsense, reassuring him that I would rather die myself than ever attempt to hurt him again. Asmodeus brings me back to the world outside the safety bubble I've created, grabbing me under my arms and hauling me to my feet. His very touch sends a bolt of energy shooting through me; I feel awake again in his hands. He rips away the clothing I've fashioned and frantically probes my belly with his rough hands. Is body visibly sags in relief before he releases a strained breath – and me – to stand tall once more. His face is an iron mask of impassivity.

I watch him jadedly, wondering when his self-proclaimed "horrendous temper" will make its appearance. I know it's coming, how could it not? It's not as if I had been a naughty child, being berated by her father. No, of course this is a million times worse, I almost killed our baby! Yet he still stands there, staring at me with those garnet eyes; there's no fire, no spark in them at all; only the cutting cold of betrayal. And it cuts me deeply, his stare, it's almost my undoing. Anything would be better than the ice in his eyes, I'd rather he raged at me.

Of course I would. This is my punishment, I realise. This simple look which conveys so much; the stare which increases my shame a hundred-fold. It’s this look that proclaims me the villain when it was he who did this to me! It was his actions which led us to this point; his choices which made him a kidnapping coercer and me his murderous whore! How dare he accuse me with his eyes of being evil when it was he who made me what I am?! The thought banishes my crushing guilt for the moment and allows my energy to focus my rage. Let's see how he handles his temper. Let's see who the real bad guy is.

Will he rise to the bait?

"What, Asmodeus? Nothing to say? I almost destroy your... bastard" the word hurts coming out, "of a child and all you can do is stand there and stare at me like a simpleton?"

Of course, he doesn’t look like a simpleton at all. He is the epitome of regality; his spine straight, head held high and so far, his temper in check. Of course I need to prove that this is a façade, if only to feel less wretched about myself. A little more niggling on my behalf should do the trick.

“What’s the matter? Is the all powerful Demon of Lust feeling a little impotent today?” I jeer at him, willing him to react.

He ignores my taunting, still watching me with his ‘you wound me deeply’ look and damn him, refusing to snap. I can’t let him pretend that he’s the better person. He’s a fucking demon! Furious tears well up in my eyes. If a demon can best me in the morals department, then what the fuck does that say about me?

“Say something! Say something, you fucking coward!” I scream and shove him as hard as I can. He isn’t fazed in the slightest, it’s as if I’m hitting a brick wall; my arms ache in defeat against his unshakable frame. Asmodeus’s silence is crushing and it tortures me, turning my intention to do good into something hideous. This is breaking me, making me doubt myself and my own actions.

“I’ll try again,” I whisper the lie, in a last-ditch attempt to bring his majesty down to my level.

A spark finally ignites in his eyes.

“That’s right you son-of-a-bitch, I’ve got the power; it’s my body-”

I stop abruptly, when he grabs my arm firmly and shakes me.

“You will do no such thing,” the words are ground out into a feral snarl and his eyes blaze with a passionate wrath.

Ah... Finally, the King falls.

I smile as he drags me across the room, to the exit and I’m sure, a punishment which will prove that he is just as cruel as I am.

* * * * *

Tied down, arms stretched above my head, aching in their relentless restraint. I'm in a large cave, the walls made of black volcanic rock. Rivulets of lava seep down through numerous cracks, cooling and hardening, adding to the texture of the cave.

The heat makes me sweat uncontrollably, beads of it roll down my face. My tongue is a desert, every swallow painful. The air is acrid, stinking of sulphur and smoke. Every breath is torture in my lungs, making them burn with an evil intensity. The platform I'm lying on is made of the same rock as the walls, hard and lumpy, digging into my back.

Rusted iron shackles encircle my wrists and ankles, pinned into the rock with nails as thick as my forearm. This time, I don’t panic as I take in my surroundings. I don’t bother trying to break free; I know I just got lucky the first time. I know I haven’t been brought here to be sacrificed by some ancient deluded tribe or lazy serial killer. I would laugh, if my throat wasn’t so raw.

When I look upon my captor, I don’t cringe or hide. I smile too widely up at his stony face, feeling my lip split again and relishing his displeasure. If this is how he wants to play then bring it on.

“Aw, how romantic baby, you wanna recreate our first date?” My voice drips amused sarcasm. “You know they say that after couple has been together long enough, romance just flies out the window. But just look at us! We sure proved them wro-”

“Silence! I have had enough of your impudence woman! Do not test me; my patience concerning you is beginning to wear thin.” His voice rumbles like thunder.

He lifts a clawed hand toward me and the tablet I’m pinned to builds up further. As it grows, the top tilts forward while the sinks further into the ground. Eventually, the stone table becomes a free-standing wall. My arms are still stretched above my head, placing even more strain on them as gravity drags them toward the ground but at least now I’m able to stand up on my own.

“Alright, so now that you have me tied up again, what do you intend to do with me?”

I gyrate my hips toward him mockingly, showing off my naked flesh and delighting in the reaction this causes. It seems that no matter how pissed off he is at me, the Demon of Lust is always ready to go. He doesn’t give in though, choosing instead to show me exactly how he intends to punish me. Using his power again he conjures up a large dining table, similar to the one in the other room. On it appears food; a large selection of fruit, meat and cheeses. Needless to say, I am less than pleased.

“What now? You gonna feed me to death?” I jest, trying to hide the tremor in my voice.

“You require sustenance,” is his only reply.

“No, I don’t,” I argue tersely, “I’m not hungry.”

“Tell me my love, why is it that I sense in you an aversion to nourishment?”

“I am not averse to eating, Asmodeus, I’m just not hungry.” I reply, all amusement vaporizing as agitation replaces it.

“I do not believe you. A human cannot go three nights without appetite. You will eat, of your own accord. I would be loath to force-feed you.”

The idea chills me to the bone. Of course I’m hungry, starving it seems but I would rather rot than eat anything here. I will not be Persephone, shackled to the underworld for eating a single pomegranate seed.

“You can try,” I hiss, outraged that he would think it.

And try he does, sighing as if the whole world is conspiring against him. He chooses cut fruit from the table, carrying with him a small bowl full until he stands before me again. I clamp my mouth shut and watch him with a furious glare as he brings a fragrant segment of persimmon to my lips. It smells so ripe and delicious that I hold my breath to stop myself from biting into it as my stomach growls. It’s no pomegranate but I’m sure the effect is the same.

Frustrated at my defiance, the demon mashes the cool fruit against my lips with his fingers and I taste a little sweet juice on my tongue as the pulp slides off my chin and trickles between my breasts. Terrified, I spit frantically, trying to get every trace of it out of my mouth. I wince when I realise that I’ve done so directly onto his chest.

Wiping the juice off himself – and licking it off me – Asmodeus walks back to the table. I fear what he might try next; maybe bring back some awful metal tool to keep my mouth open. Instead, he sets the bowl down and returns with a clay cup, similar to the one Ida used to give me water. I let out a tense breath. I can deal with water.

“Perhaps I have been too harsh with you my dear. This should compel you to be more complacent.”

Compel me? I don’t like the sound of that.

He dips his fingers into the cup of something that is clearly not water. When he brings them out they’re coated in a thick colourless gel. Before I even have time to process this, his fingers come down and he smears the gel over my sex.

“Wha- Ooohh.. .”

The protest is stopped short on my lips as a delicious tingling sensation begins in my nether regions. I can feel the path he traces on my folds as the gel warms up, sending terrific pulses of heat flashing through me. His fingers slip over my clit and I moan as an inferno builds within me, a burning which swells through my heart and spreads. My eyes squeeze shut against a never-ending bonfire which has every nerve under my skin screaming for release. My throat closes as a lump of coal from this eternal inner flame lodges itself there. I am a fire Goddess, trapped in an immortal moment of pure bliss.

Bliss soon turns to desperation though as the pleasure crescendos then freezes so that I am locked in the single instant before liberation. I simply can’t climax, but the pressure is maintained as if by some cruel magic. I thrash against my bonds, driven mad with lust and an insatiable hunger for its pinnacle. My hips buck wildly against thin air, looking for something, anything, that will gift me my gratification.

Suddenly my torturous pleasure increases tenfold as I feel my nipples harden almost excruciatingly. My muddled brain takes forever to process why. The fucking beast has rubbed the gel into my breasts as well.

It is I who sounds like a beast though, my calls primal and deep. I clench my thighs together, hoping to create even a miniscule amount of friction to no avail. All I need is a single touch and I know my torment will finally end. I consider begging for it, just one little touch, but the idea revolts me and I stand my ground... so to speak.

My knees have weakened to the point where they no longer support my body but shake uselessly as my arms hold my weight. The pain in my arms must be agonizing, although I can’t feel it under my sweet suffering.

I slump as far down as my chained arms will allow, breathing haggard and body still convulsing against my undying almost climax. It seems like forever before the pressure subsides a little.

That isn’t to say, however, that my torture has ended – far from it, my entire frame still quakes against its power. It has been muted somewhat, the bonfire reduced to smouldering red-hot embers. Finally I open my eyes again.

I lift myself up into standing, fighting hard to support my body on wobbly knees. My breathing hitches with every movement, but none are strong enough to free me from this exquisite torture. My gaze reaches for that of my tormenter; ironically also the only one who can liberate me.

But I didn’t beg at my weakest, so I will not beg now.

“Mmmnn, you... ugh... assho-” I groan, struggling to form a coherent thought, let alone a proper sentence.

“Yes, my proud Selena?” His voice is smug and enraging.

My vision slips in and out of focus and along with my lolling head, make it difficult to get a lock on him. My whole body trembles against the power of the demon’s magic serum and my brain shuts out everything but the sensations it creates. It is only his cruel and hypnotic voice which tethers me to the realm of sanity; a single silver thread in the void which intimidates my fragile mind. Without his voice, I would succumb to the madness; choosing to hide deep within myself rather than face this remorseless pleasuring.

His dark and beautiful voice... it beckons me.

With my eyes half closed, I finally find his face. I close my parched mouth and notice a defeated moaning only when it stops. Was that me? My body shivers of its own accord and I haven’t the strength to control it. I pull in a shaky breath and try to focus on what he is saying to me.

“Why do you insist on challenging me? Do you not realise the simplicity of your choice? All you need do is obey me and I shall grant your every desire.” His words sound so appealing.

Yes, Asmodeus my love, I will do anything.

I am about to tell him so when the defiant Selena in me rebels.

No! You can’t let him win! She screams in my mind. The weak-willed part of me battles against her and loses. So I shut my mouth and endure.

Asmodeus senses my resolution and his anger boils over.

“Stop fighting me!” he slams a hand into the wall by my head but I’m too out of it to flinch. “Do you not realise that with every second you spend defying me, our child starves ever further, dying for your wretched pride?!”

Before I have a chance to respond, the truth of his words ring through me as my baby’s growing pains begin once more. The pain is masked by the pleasurable effects of the gel and strangely, instead of debilitating me, it allows me a moment of clarity as the opposing forces clash and neutralise each other. Reason hits me like a truck.

I’m killing my baby.

By choosing not to eat, I am going against my word to keep him safe from harm. In my desperation to be free, I chose my life over his, no matter how unintentionally. I didn’t think about the consequences of my starvation. Once again, I have forgotten about the life my body protects and how precious it is.

Precious, the word feels ill-used. It would probably benefit the human race, if I let my baby die. But I know I can’t.

Submissive Selena and Defiant Selena both make way for the New Mother Selena as the reality finally sets in. No more selfishness, from now on I need to think about my baby first.

I look up at Asmodeus and command that he release me. I refuse to be held like a criminal and fed like a child now that I have decided to cooperate. He looks reluctant to oblige.

“Come on! Look, I said I’ll eat and I mean it, now unchain me.”

Now that I have remembered what is at stake I am agitated and eager to eat something as quickly as possible. The way see it; at the rate my baby is growing, it will take a large amount of food to keep him healthy. And that also probably means that too little food could be a serious threat to his life. Already, as it stands, it has been two nights since his conception – three if I count tonight – and I haven’t eaten a single thing. I would like to get some food down before either the pain stops and the pleasure shackles me again; or the serum wears off and the pain cripples me.

“You’re wasting time!” I fight against my bonds desperately, hoping he will see that I am earnest.

He deliberates one agonising moment longer before waving a hand and causing all my cuffs to click open simultaneously. My weakened body crumples the moment it is no longer supported but Asmodeus catches me and carries me over to the banquet. Summoning a throne-like seat at the head of the table, he sits upon it gracefully, still cradling me against his chest. The cave cools considerably and the stink of sulphur disperses. Is this a reward from the demon for obeying him? The pleasure and pain still war within me, focused on each other, still allowing me my moment of peace.

I manoeuvre myself into a sitting position, on the demon’s wide lap. I feel his hot breath in my hair and against my neck as he leans over, watching me intently. Nervous, I eye out the spread apprehensively, still reluctant to be Persephone.

It’s a little too late, don’t you think? The voice of Mother Selena is brutally honest.

I reach out into the selection of food, feeling the demon’s eyes watch my every move. Choosing a pomegranate (oh the irony), I rip into the leathery carmine coloured flesh and bring a piece up for closer inspection. Blood red seeds spill out and I catch them with my other hand. Loosing even more seeds with my thumb I gather a small cache of them in my palm as if they were precious rubies.

My stomach churns at the thought of eating but I have already decided to be selfless for my baby. I toss the seeds into my mouth as if they were an overdose of medicine. Certainly it feels as if I am using them to throw my life away. With only a moments lingering panic, I bite down, crunching through the seeds and enjoying the burst of delicious juice that accompanies it.

So that’s it, I’m trapped here forever.

Strangely, this thought doesn’t fill me with panic. Have I finally accepted my fate?

I eat the rest of the pomegranate as well as a slab of roasted lamb on rye bread, washing it down with more water. Before I have had my fill however, the pain ends and the pleasure returns. I lose myself to it again.

I start to shiver against Asmodeus’ solid frame, raking at his bare thighs beneath mine until I realise – frustratingly late – that my hands are free to end my anguish. They shoot toward my weeping sex as well as the promise of a long-awaited release, only to be stopped by the dark clutches of my lover. He grabs both my wrists in his huge hands and easily pulls them back up to my sides, pinning them there. My moan of aggravation is drawn out and noisy.

“I did what you asked!” I scream, panting and groaning; fighting against his hold.

“Of course, my love and you shall be rewarded for it.”

His pointed tail slithers up between my thighs, brushing oh-so-close to my centre. I shudder exquisitely, my hands curling into tight fists, knuckles whitening. I crane my neck back, unable to deal with the agonising wait and Asmodeus brings his lips down to my neck. His masculinity assaults my senses; his luscious scent alone heightening my desire ever still. His teeth graze the soft skin beneath the hard line of my jaw, while his wicked slippery tail ventures ever further toward my opening. It brushes gently across my folds and I bite my lip to keep from crying out. The arrowed tip of his extra limb probes the area around my smouldering clit and finally, finally rubs against it.

The climax is earth-shattering, launching my wound up body into a seizure of orgasmic spasms. A nova blast of heat lights up my entire being, spreading like ripples through a pond from my sex to every crevice of my anatomy. My very blood sings with the pure and dazzling strength of it. Once again, the cave bears the brunt of my untamed power as my control slips and it is unleashed like a relentless animal; a creature which only knows destruction. The din is deafening. Asmodeus seems ready though, and must be protecting us. I’m still too lost in my own universal bliss to know for sure, but I haven’t felt anything fall near me.

When the pleasure finally begins to wane, I notice that the demon’s tail is still rubbing against my sensitive flesh. The sensations are wonderful, burning currents of delight laced with cold cuts of hurt. My clit is already over-stimulated.

I move my hand and he lets go of my wrists, allowing me to pull his appendage away. I caress it with my other hand and he curls it lovingly around my wrist. It no longer feels wrong to desire him the way I do, now that I’ve made my choice and sealed my fate. Why fight it anymore?

“I want your body, not your tail,” I whisper mischievously and release a surprised scream when he suddenly lifts me up, turns me around and props me back down on this lap, so that now we are facing each other.

I grab his face in my hands and pull him in for a passionate kiss, linking my arms behind his neck as his hands slide down my waist and come to rest at my hips. He elevates the lower half of my figure and impales me swiftly with his pulsating member.

I break away from his lips as my breathing hitches, sitting up straighter and holding onto his broad shoulders for support. His is gentle with me, his body moving leisurely beneath mine. I mirror his speed, rolling my hips against his; groaning his name under the steady rise of another climax. When I come this time it isn’t an intense burst of pleasure like before but rather a sweet lingering, I quiet moment between my lover and I. We revel in the bliss we create for one another.

I pull in closer to him, in desperate need to be held but something gets in our way.

My belly has grown quite considerably in such a short space of time and is now a noticeable little protrusion. It pales in comparison to my breasts however, which seem to have magically almost doubled in size. Asmodeus chuckles and tenderly dips his head down to press his lips lingeringly against my belly.

I grip his hair tightly as tears form in my eyes. Eventually he comes up to stare at me with those gorgeously intense eyes and holds my face in his giant hand.

“I didn’t mean it when I called our baby a bastard,” I whimper, needing to get out the words and hoping he will catch the hidden meaning in them.

I don’t apologise for trying to hurt the baby; how can I ever atone for that? I don’t tell him that I lied when I said I would try to hurt the baby again. I don’t say that in my selfishness, I forgot about the safety of our child.

I don’t say these things because I am ashamed. I hope that he hears the pain in my voice and that he understands.

“I know, love.” Is his only reply and he carries me away from the cavern, back to his throne room.

We lie in each other’s arms for an age, wrapped comfortably in a mutual silence; my head rested on his chest and his hands on my womb and in my hair. Have we finally come to an understanding? Have we finally found something worth agreeing on?

I break the silence reluctantly.

“Asmodeus?” I inquire softly.

“Hmm?” his voice is a deep, sexy rumble.

“I’m still hungry.”

Continued in Part Six

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