Goetic Justice 2Chapter 8 Angels and Demons
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Goetic JusticeChapter 4: Sweet Dreams free porn video
Ryan had finally found something – a job interview for a good position in his field that paid well and was in range of his soon-to-be new car. After scheduling an interview by email, he slumped over his keyboard, exhausted and relieved. He had a car, he had a job interview, now he just needed to nail the face-to-face and he might actually be able to climb out of this hole.
He checked the clock on his taskbar, seeing that it was two in the morning. Time to get some sleep. He rubbed his itchy eyes and yawned widely, rising from his chair to stretch, the glow from his monitor bathing the room in its pale light. There was a growl from his stomach, a pang of hunger giving him pause. The job search had kept him up for hours, might be a good idea to get a bowl of cereal before turning in.
He made his way to the kitchen, the fridge bathing him in its dim glow as he opened the door, searching for some milk. After shaking the carton to make sure it wasn’t empty, he rummaged for a box of corn flakes in one of the cupboards, then searched the sink for a clean bowl. The creaking of his chair echoed through the silent apartment as he sat down at the kitchen table, pouring himself a bowl of cereal, alone in the gloom.
This bachelor lifestyle didn’t suit him. He had moved here to be with Becky, and now that she was gone, the apartment was as silent and as lifeless as a graveyard. With nobody around to impress, he was no longer taking care of himself. Even his cooking was lousy, and without Becky to feed him, he was eating like shit. He had stopped exercising, too, and his previously toned belly was starting to soften. He rested his face in his hand as he wolfed down the tasteless cereal, realizing that it was a little stale, but not caring enough to make himself a proper meal.
Maybe Nahash was right about his emotional turmoil. Maybe he was depressed or something, and he just didn’t know it. This didn’t feel like something that well-adjusted people did, eating stale cereal on their own in the dark at two AM. His mind wandered away from thoughts of good meals and warm beds, back to what the familiar had shown him, her superhuman ability to lull him into a calm and untroubled sleep.
It had taken him by surprise, which was part of the reason he had reacted so badly to it. He still didn’t know how to feel about the idea that she could manipulate his emotional state and project illusions into his mind. What was a person, if not the culmination of their mental processes? The chemistry of their brain, the integrity of their thoughts, the decisions that defined them. When you subverted that, what did you make of them? Some kind of meat puppet with no free will of their own?
So many philosophical and theological questions had been raised by this whole venture that Ryan had just stopped thinking about them as Nahash had advised. It was better to just live his life and worry about the details when he had an eternity to mull them over.
Should he call her back again? The prospect of a good night’s rest was appealing, but the thought of letting someone hypnotize him made his skin crawl. Still, he was starting to trust the familiar and her demonic master. Their plan was showing promise already, and they hadn’t taken advantage of any opportunities to screw him over. At least, not so far.
What the heck – he’d at least give it a try. If he didn’t like it, then he could always forbid Nahash from doing it again. How should he contact her, though? Would Orobas just know because of his decision-based future-seeing powers?
As if to answer his question, a signature chill fell over the room, made all the more noticeable by the already cool autumn night. Nahash appeared in her usual spot near the summoning circle, emerging from the swirling vapors as he plugged his nose against the smell and waited for it to dissipate.
She walked over to him, her cloven footsteps loud and heavy on the wood floor, her wide hips rolling as she approached the table. Her nakedness was no less distracting in the dark, her pale skin and white fur seeming to glow in the cold moonlight that bled in through the blinds, the deep shadows only serving to accentuate her comely figure.
“You have decided,” she announced in that husky, musical voice.
“I’ll give it a try, but if I don’t like it, will you stop?”
“I will,” she replied with a curt nod.
“Okay, that’s good,” he said with a sigh of relief. “So ... how do we...?”
“Come to the bedroom, if it pleases you.”
Ryan’s heart skipped a beat at the prospect. He had assumed that they would sit on the couch again, but he guessed that it made more sense to sleep in a bed. She seemed to sense his apprehension, and perhaps the twinge of arousal that shadowed it, her voice low and soft as she reassured him.
“Fear not. I do not seek to entrap you, only to help ease your sleep.”
He hesitated for a moment, staring into his mostly eaten bowl of cereal, then rose to his feet with fresh determination.
“Alright, let’s do it,” he said. “Follow me.”
He walked across the apartment as she followed behind him, her odd gait slowing so as not to outpace him on her longer legs, the pair stopping at the bedroom door. The apartment was open plan, and the only rooms that were sectioned off were the bathroom and the bedroom, for obvious reasons. Ryan opened the door with a creak and was immediately hit by a wall of cold air, cursing to himself as he realized that one of the windows had blown open. He hurried over to swing it shut, checking that it was secure this time, then closed the curtains to block out the surprisingly bright moonlight. Great, now it was freezing...
“Sorry, looks like the wind blew it open,” he grumbled as he crossed his arms and shivered. Even the hardwood was cold enough that he could feel it through his socks. “Lemme go bump up the thermostat and we can give it a few minutes.”
“It’s fine,” she replied, surveying the bedroom with her amber eyes. They seemed to glow in the low light almost like those of a cat, or perhaps she was producing that glow herself. Ryan’s face reddened. He was a little embarrassed by the state of the room. There was dirty laundry piled on the floor, the bed hadn’t been made, and the sheets and pillows were strewn all over the place. Becky had been the clean one – she had done the laundry and made the beds while he was at work. It just wasn’t part of his routine yet. Thinking back on it, maybe that had been part of the problem. She must have resented picking up after him.
“Aren’t you cold?” Ryan asked.
“Cold is ideal,” she replied with a smile. “If it pleases you, I would like to open the curtains. The moon is full tonight, and its light soothes me.”
“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug, pulling them open and letting the moonlight flood in. Who knew, maybe the moon gave her power. Creatures of the night, and all that. She walked over to the bed, but Ryan held out a hand to stop her, hurriedly trying to straighten the blankets.
“Hang on, I gotta make the bed, it’s a rat’s nest.”
“If that is how you prefer to sleep, then leave it.”
“Well ... I like my bed a little messy,” he admitted as he fluffed up the pillows. “But, Becky-I mean, my ex-girlfriend always wanted everything clean and straightened out.”
“This all reminds you of her,” Nahash said, and Ryan paused to glance up at her. “You lived here together for a long time, and she has left her mark on this place. You cannot turn your head in this house without those memories surfacing.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” he mumbled as he rubbed his arm absent-mindedly. “It’s not like I can move, though. I mean, maybe I could have, but I didn’t ask for that in the contract. Gotta say, my first summoning was kind of poorly thought out,” he added with a dry chuckle. “I could have asked for a lot more than I did.”
“This is your home, Ryan,” Nahash replied in a soothing tone. “You should not have to leave. Old memories will linger, they refuse to be forgotten, but the best way to overcome a painful memory is to replace it with a happy one. You see this as the center of your relationship with her – you made love together here, you slept in each other’s arms. That will always be its significance unless you move on and make new memories, give this bed a new significance.”
“How do I do that?”
“I sense that you wish to replace your lost love, but that can never be. You cannot regain what was lost, but you can find something new. If you should search for another partner, then you must stop clinging to what was and open yourself to what will be, to new people and new experiences.”
“That’s easy to say, not so easy to put into practice,” he grumbled as he sat down on the edge of the bed.
“We can start right now,” she continued. “What is more significant? Which memory will stand out in your mind? Sharing this bed with your scorned lover, or sharing it with a demon?”
“I guess that’s true,” he replied, his mood lightening somewhat. “Alright then, let’s make this the demon bed.”
He unbuckled his belt and slid off his pants, tugging off his socks and quickly sliding beneath the sheets to escape the frigid air. He watched Nahash from under the heavy blanket as she examined the bed with a skeptical expression. Perhaps it was different from what she was used to. She soon followed suit, lifting the blanket with her clawed hand and sitting down on the mattress. Ryan expected it to sag under her weight, but just like the couch, it didn’t. She swung one of her long, goat-like legs up onto the bed, followed by the second. Before long, she was shuffling into place beside him. She had been so graceful on her feet, but she was unaccustomed to the piles of sheets, wriggling clumsily in an effort to get comfortable. Seeing her in such a mundane situation eased his tension, making her feel somehow more human and relatable.
The bed was a twin, and yet there was scarcely enough room for both of them. Her wide hips and thick thighs were pressing against his bare legs, and her exaggerated bosom was tenting the blanket, exposing him to the cold air. He tugged more of the sheets over to his side and shifted a little as he sealed the gap, the contrast of her smooth skin and downy wool creating a strange but welcome sensation.
Again, he was surprised by how warm she was. Their combined body heat was already warming the bed, and he felt her hook an arm around his shoulders as she drew him closer.
There was that smell again, like wet grass the morning after a rainstorm. His brain had already associated her scent with the overwhelming feeling of calm and relaxation. He was starting to become drowsy, and she hadn’t even worked her magic yet.
There was nowhere to put his hands. Her body was so voluptuous, and he didn’t know how she would respond should he touch her thigh or her breast. Just what the hell kind of relationship did they have here, anyway? She was apparently a woman, he was a man, she was nude and sharing a bed with him. Did demons have sex? Did he even want that from her, goat-headed she-demon that she was? It was all so confusing.
“Relax,” she whispered, her warm breath blowing his hair. “Do not think. Lie still, and stop fretting.” Her voice was so husky, a deep contralto that resonated in his bones with an oddly synthesized quality that reminded him of a vocal track from a 1980s synth-pop song.
He tried to do as she asked, letting his face sink into that feathery ruff around her neck and chest, softer than any pillow that he could imagine. His thoughts were troubled, however, his heart beating faster as he peered down into the shadow beneath the blanket. The heavy sheets barely served to cover her.
“Nahash,” he muttered, unable to contain himself any longer. “I gotta know ... what is this, exactly? What should I-”
He felt her palm cradle his cheek as she pressed his face into the nape of her neck, her skin smooth and warm. Her other hand found his and guided it around her waist, easing him into a hug, encouraging him to sink his fingers into her doughy flesh. His face reddened as he felt the velvet-soft fat of her midriff beneath his digits, the subtle paunch of her belly and hips begging him to probe deeper. She was girthy enough that he would have struggled to wrap both arms around her. Her towering figure was downright Rubenesque, but her weight was distributed to all of the right places. It had been distracting to look at, but to have her hourglass hips and her heaving bosom pressing up against him was maddening. He suppressed his urges, and the pair lay wrapped in each other’s arms, the slow beating of her massive heart and her rhythmic breathing captivating him.
“Touch me as you would a partner,” she said softly, Ryan’s breath catching in his throat. “I sense that you need this comfort, but try to sleep.”
They could spoon, then – that’s what she was saying. Touching was alright, but the goal here was to help him rest. Admittedly, it was almost a struggle to stay conscious as he lay beneath the sheets with her. It was like having a living body pillow that could hug back, warm and soft in all the right ways. He rubbed his cheek against the downy wool – deep enough that he could almost bury his face in it completely, shuffling to get closer to her. She responded in kind, her hold on him tightening, and he shivered as he felt her run her fingers through his hair. She stroked him like a cat, something that Becky had never done, and he melted into her embrace as her claws tickled his scalp.
“That’s ... nice,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the forest of fur. Her other arm was hooked around his shoulders, her hand supporting his lower back as she pressed him close, the frigid air outside the sanctuary of the bed now all but forgotten.
Skin on skin contact, the warmth of another person, the sounds and sensations of a body lying next to his. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed this, how much he had needed it. He had locked himself away in his apartment for weeks, starving himself of a nutrient that he hadn’t even known his body required.
He balked as he realized that she hadn’t even put the magickal moves on him yet. This was all natural, something that any other human could have provided. Well, a human of unrealistic proportions wearing a fur coat, perhaps.
Damn, the stroking was intoxicating. Why the hell was his scalp so sensitive?
“So, is this just ... what you do?” Ryan asked, mumbling through his growing drowsiness.
“Mortals have long sought the company of my kind,” she replied, their proximity making her voice resonate through him. “The Seirim possess qualities and abilities that soothe and excite your people. Why that is, I cannot say.”
Ryan had some guesses, but he held his tongue, wanting the moment to last forever. With a start, he realized that he didn’t miss Becky, not really. He missed what she did for him. For the time being, this Seirim could do a hell of a lot more.
“In ages long past, we wandered the ancient deserts and forests of the world,” she continued. “Mortals would leave offerings and make sacrifices to us. We were spirits of the wild, embodiments of nature’s mystery and its forbidden passions. The music and revelry of the Seirim would ring out across the plains, our bonfires visible for miles around. For a time, we were the gods of simple folk. As mortals turned to greater deities and forgot the lesser spirits of the wilderness, we lost our power, and we faded from memory.”
“Not to be rude, but ... I can’t really imagine you dancing around a bonfire, Nahash. You’re so restrained and to the point.”
Although, he had to admit that seeing her dance would be quite something. That massive, feminine body gyrating and prancing beneath a pale moon, or illuminated by the flickering glow of a fire. He could scarcely picture it. How would a creature of her size and gait dance?
“I am bound to my master,” she said, sounding somewhat wistful. “I am but a lesser spirit. Without worshipers, our power wanes, and we must enter into the service of a greater entity or risk fading into nothing.”
“So, worshipers really are like a battery for you guys, huh?”
“Belief and faith, these are our food and our water,” she confirmed with a gentle nod. “We only exist as long as someone worships us. Orobas took me and a few of my brethren into his legions. He grants us a share of his energy, and in exchange, we serve him. The rest of us are scattered between different demons. I carry out the instructions of my master, no more and no less. My days of revelry are long past.”
“That’s sad,” Ryan mumbled. “Is this at least a kind of vacation for you?”
“In a way, I suppose that it is,” she replied with a longing glance at the window. “Taking form and walking the Earth again reminds me of the old times – the moonlight on my skin, the warmth of a man...”
That got his attention, and she must have sensed the change in his emotional state. She had just let slip a lot more than she had intended, perhaps beyond the scope of her task here.
“Are you ready to sleep yet?” she asked, quickly changing the subject. “I can use my power to calm your mind,” she whispered, halting her rhythmic stroking for a moment. “You need only ask.”
“You’re doing a pretty good job without it,” he chuckled, pushing his face into the nape of her neck and breathing in her earthy scent. “Can we just ... stay like this a while longer?”
“As you wish.”
She resumed her stroking, and he felt an involuntary tremor pass through him. It felt so good that it made his limbs turn to mush. His eyelids were growing heavy, and a yawn forced his jaw wide open, Ryan breathing in the scent of her delicate fur as its strands tickled his skin. He allowed himself the liberty of draping his arm over Nahash’s soft belly, shuffling closer to her.
She wrapped the blankets more tightly around them like a cocoon, rolling onto her side, her breasts wobbling with the motion. They pressed together under their own generous weight, spilling across the sheets like melting candle wax, just firm enough to keep their perfect shape. She drew his face into her ruff, her hand still on the back of his head, her chin resting in his hair as her silky wool rubbed against his reddening cheeks. Those mounds of delicate fat squashed up against his chest, only separated from his skin by his t-shirt.
“So ... you can sing?” he asked, hearing her massive heart quicken. Did the prospect excite her, perhaps?
“Not for millennia, but yes, I can.”
“Will you sing for me?” he added.
“Why?”
“I’d like to hear it, and it would help me get to sleep.”
“I can lull you into a deep and untroubled sleep at will,” she replied. “Singing is not necessary for that.”
“Well, I’d like to hear it all the same.”
She seemed hesitant, afraid of doing more than her role required, perhaps. Would taking such liberties with her charge anger Orobas in some way? Then again, Orobas must have foreseen everything. That was his job, after all. He wouldn’t have sent her if this wasn’t what he had intended to happen.
“I suppose it would be acceptable, if you wish it,” she conceded. “What manner of song would you like to hear?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Something calming.”
He waited, unsure of whether or not she would actually sing, but he soon heard a low and musical tone rising in her throat. It would have been inaudible had her lips not been but an inch from his ear – an ancient hymn in a language that might not have been heard by mortals in thousands of years, a melodic chant with a timbre and rhythm that betrayed its immense age. It was like nothing he had heard before, and he listened in silence, captivated by the somehow mournful song.
It conjured the silhouettes of Seirim dancing beneath the cold stars in his mind’s eye, framed against a burning fire that rose high into the night air. He could hear the twang of ancient string instruments and the beating of drums as the pace and intensity of the melody quickened, Ryan unable to discern if it was his imagination or if she was projecting these images and emotions into his mind.
It was beautiful and strange, at once alien, yet distinctly familiar. It was as if the music had awoken some ancient memory in him, a long-buried fragment of his ancestral past. Had his own forebears joined these spirits in their frenzied dance?
The haunting, placating song hastened still, climbing towards a crescendo. The figures that he saw in his mind danced faster and faster as they waved their arms and stamped their cloven feet on the dusty ground. There was a climax of dissonance, the instruments that he half heard and half imagined going silent, the rhythmic chant slowly fading into nothing.
Ryan opened his eyes as if waking from a trance, feeling as though a great deal of time had passed. How long had she been singing, and how long had he lay here listening to her?
“That was ... lovely,” he murmured. “Thank you.”
“I am glad to sing again,” she whispered. “No mortal has heard my voice in a thousand years.”
“What was that? I’ve never heard anything like it before.”
“A Sumerian song,” she explained, holding him tight. “I doubt that there are any records of it that survive. That is about as far back as your historical records go.”
“I saw ... images in my head, Seirim dancing around a giant fire. Were you doing that?”
“In part,” she replied. “But, music itself is a kind of magick. It can influence emotion and mood much in the same way that I can.”
“Yeah, I suppose that’s true enough.”
“Will you sleep now?” she asked.
Ryan nodded, relaxing into her fluffy ruff.
“You can use your powers on me now.”
“Are you sure?” Nahash said, surprised by his change in attitude. “It no longer offends you?”
“Yeah, go for it.”
Maybe it was because he understood her a little better, but as the waves of relaxing euphoria washed over him, he realized that he no longer feared her.
When Ryan awoke, Nahash was gone. He sat up in bed, stretching his arms above his head. He was a little disappointed that he hadn’t woken up in her arms, but she was a demon, after all. Being here at all must consume some kind of resource or energy that was required for her to manifest a physical body. He rubbed his eyes, swinging his legs out from under the sheets and hopping out of bed, swearing that he had never felt so rested in his life.
He had slept through the whole night without interruption, his mind completely blank of dreams or nightmares. It had left him feeling completely refreshed and totally energized, like he had been roused from some futuristic rejuvenation booth from a sci-fi movie. It was kind of frustrating to consider that such rest was always available to him, but his own schedule and hangups kept it out of reach. If he were to wake up feeling like this every morning, he could conquer the damned world.
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