Avarice makes fools of everyone in the end. Vivian has learned that lesson all too well, after she made a bet with a handsome demon. Had the dice gone her way, her prize would have been more than worth it, but a loser like her has to pay her price: a year and a day of service. Her tasks are arduous and demeaning. Living in her master’s big empty house is lonely and Vivian finds her eyes and imagination wandering to the only other soul around, her demonic master.
This five thousand word story is a ribald stand alone tale by Parker Paige.
She knelt on the stone and lowered her eyes. She knew what the demon, her master, wanted. He could have just taken her at any time; he was certainly strong enough. He could have snapped his fingers and used the power of the world below to change her, to make her want him. He could have simply ordered her to his bed, and the binding of their wager would have forced here there. But he wanted her to want it, to come to him of her own volition.
He wanted her to beg him.
His plan had worked. It had only taken a few months, and here she was, on her knees in his bedchamber, ready to ask him to give her what she couldn’t get anywhere else. She was ready to do anything for it, ready to debase herself, ready to plead and crawl and beg for it. First, though, she had to ask.
“Master,” her voice was unsteady, reluctant to obey her own wishes, “will you please…” she couldn’t get the words out.
He stared down at her from his perch in that enormous old chair, his red eyes gleaming in the firelight. His lips split and revealed his white smile. His voice was sonorous and low; it sounded like an echo in an empty cave.
“Don’t waste my time,” he growled, “spit it out.”
“Fuck me, sir!” The words tumbled from her mouth in out single blurting sound.
“Oh, you’ll have to do better than that.” He grinned smugly.
She swallowed and forced herself to dig deep. If he wanted to play with her, she had not option but to play back if she hoped at all to get what she needed. “Fuck me like the filthy slut I am. Use me, master. Ruin me.”
The chair creaked against his weight as he braced his hands against its arms and pushed himself to his feet. He stepped closer, towering over her and his grin widening. One large hand reached and undid the single knot that held his loin cloth in place with a tug, letting it fall away. Her master’s cock, thick, blood red, and deeply veined, hung semi-erect in the bedroom. Even now, it seemed impossibly large, longer than her forearm.
“I hope,” he growled warmly, “that you can handle what you’ve asked for.”
She swallowed as she stared at him and hoped that she could as well.