Demon's Promise: a high fantasy femdom novella Read Online Free

running her delicate white fingers along its
full length.
    She made a little noise at the back of her throat he
had no idea how to interpret, then ducked her head. Her lips closed
around the head of his cock, her mouth wet and impossibly hot, and
he bucked upwards with a low moan, unable to resist any longer, his
hand reaching out for her head.
    She pulled away, scraping her nails down his
thighs.
    “First lesson,” she purred. “Do not act without my
explicit permission. Magic is a dangerous art, and you are but an
infant, lacking in control.”
    “No more displays like with the golems earlier,
then?”
    Her only response was to lean in again, circling his
balls with her tongue before lapping a trail under his rod up to
the tip once more. This time, Ruen squeezed his eyes shut and
forced himself to hold still against the shelf.
    “Are you paying attention, boy?”
    He opened his eyes. Fisted his hands in his
robes.
    “Yes, Miss Ash.”
    “Such an obedient child you are.” She licked him
again with slow, tantalizing languor, and he came close to
exploding until he bit down hard on his lip and the pain brought
him back to his senses.
    He wanted to prove her wrong about his lack of
control. He’d always thought himself well acquainted with the
limits and reactions of his own body, in fact. Had made a game of
it whenever he stroked himself to climax during the long cold
nights.
    But her touch was different. Entirely different from
his own. He did not know if it were the heat of her body, or
perhaps her skin, so soft and tender compared to his callused
palms, or perhaps even some strange demonic magic at work.
    But no. It surely could not be that last. He’d know,
from that telltale acrid scent.
    He couldn’t smell anything but his own arousal, paper
and ink and dust floating in the air, burning wood in the distance,
and close by, the heady hint of perfume, something floral and musky
all at once.
    He thought suddenly of the servants’ bawdy songs and
their ribald jokes about maneaters, of all those ignorant old tales
of fairies who lured men into their embrace so that they might
drain their life energies.
    The thought should have brought fear or doubt into
his heart. But oddly, he only found himself growing even more
excited than before.
    Let her take what she wanted, he thought. No matter
what she took, she would never be able to conquer him.
    No one would.
    She guided him into her hot mouth again, wrapping her
tongue around his girth, tasting the sticky dew leaking from his
tip as if it were heavenly ambrosia. He swallowed his groan, but
could not hide the growing harshness of his breathing. His robes
clung to him, stifling and damp with sweat. He’d never been so hard
in his life.
    Deeper and deeper she guided him, curling her tongue
against him, peering up at him with a sleepy, half-lidded gaze.
    He wanted to grip that sleek perfect hair of hers and
thrust into her until he came all over her face. And watch her
afterward, as she licked his seed from those lush red lips.
    But like it or not, he knew he wouldn’t last much
longer. It had been too long since he last bothered bringing
himself over. Too long since he allowed himself to take pleasure in
this simple base act.
    Too long since he had allowed
himself to hope for more .
    “Excuse me, milord,” a meek voice called out from the
doorway.
    Ruen swore under his breath. Cold air hit him in a
rush.
    Always that damn cold.
    One of the kitchen maids peered down the aisle of
books. “Milord? Your luncheon is ready.”
    Astarte had already straightened, the black swathes
of her dress floating into place with her movement. She licked her
lips, gaze still fixed on him, paying no heed to the servant’s
wide-eyed stare.
    “Thank you,” said Ruen, glad that his voice held. He
shook out his crumpled robes and fixed his sash, gritting his teeth
briefly as he hid his lingering arousal beneath the voluminous
cloth. “You may return to your duties.”
    The servant bowed