Page 37 of Devil’s Doom (Jaga and the Devil #2)

Chapter thirty-seven

Master

Woland

She is so beautiful. I don’t know when kneeling for her became so natural, but it’s easy, as if I was made for it. And I know I shouldn’t get carried away, I know the plan needs more, but she’s here, open and warm, her eyes hooded, and she said she loves me.

Fuck the plan.

I worship in the shrine of her, and this is what I imagine prayer must feel like. I’ve never prayed—to whom?—but this holy, bigger-than-I feeling, this all-consuming devotion must be similar to what the small people feel when they kneel in supplication before an altar.

She is a generous goddess. When I ask, she says yes, welcoming me into her, allowing me to drink the holiest of all, and so I bite into the crease of her thigh, not gently, and drink her blood as she moans in surrender.

The way she froths on my tongue, so sweet yet so earthy, like herbs and magic and her , is intoxicating . Yes, I am addicted, but it’s fine. It’s fine because she’s almost mine. She almost said it, too. I heard those words churning on her tongue, sweet and artless, except…

Except she mentioned love, and I needed to hear that more.

Throughout last week, I launched a focused attack on her defenses. I rammed at them with sweet words and affectionate gestures, and my frustration grew with every day. My witch was a fortress. Sharing her body with obscene generosity, she kept her heart tightly guarded, and it rankled. I never used to care. Having a hole to fuck was enough.

With her, I want it all. Body, mind, heart and that unattainable, glittering soul that hovers just out of my grasp.

Now that I got her words of love, I’m drunk on this tremendous victory. Even the strongest orgasm can’t bring me satisfaction as deep as this.

So no, I won’t push her, because she gave me something so much better. I can make her say she’s mine tomorrow. I can make her do anything, because she loves me, in that imperfect, faulty way a young woman thinks she loves a man. I have her in the palm of my hand.

So it’s all right to forget the plan just for tonight. It’s all right to get lost in her.

“Your blood is like nothing I’ve ever tasted,” I tell her, my voice sounding far away.

It’s the truth. I’ll tell her only the truth tonight, I decide. She said she loves me. She deserves a reward.

“I’ve had dreams about this cunt.” My tongue twists up to where she feels the most keenly, her pleasure for me to wring out and sow like a wicked plant. “Horny dreams. Yearning dreams. Even dark dreams, of stuffing it too full and making it break. It was evil of you to deny me, poppy girl.”

She shivers, but her eyes burn with heat as they look down, and I smirk, knowing my wickedness doesn’t repulse her. She loves me. It doesn’t matter that she barely knows me, that I have too many secrets to count. She’s glimpsed pieces of me, true, long-buried ones, and she still fell in love.

My dream girl.

Even better, she took it when I fucked her in that dining room, making everyone think she wouldn’t live through it even as I growled words of love loud enough for them to hear. She can take a few dark fantasies.

“I want to stuff this cunt full of my cock, seal myself in with my thorns, and never come out. Will you let me, sweet girl?”

I laugh when she nods breathlessly. She’s such an obedient pup now that she finally confessed her feelings. What broke her? I don’t know. She fought valiantly, denying my words of love, pushing them away even though I knew how much she wanted them to be true.

Even that night when we first met, I glimpsed that neediness. After all, what finally made her take me was the race and a very public claiming. I raced the boys in her backward village and caught her chaplet, that beautiful, bespelled thing everyone else spurned.

That’s what she loves and needs, to be chosen above others, to be revered, to be very openly wanted. Jaga seems so old, sometimes, so very jaded, but in this, she is still young. It takes ages to grow out of needing others. Centuries to realize the only person you must prove anything to is yourself.

I slide a finger into her, finding that sweet cunt swollen and wet. Just in time—as I suck her clit into my mouth, she falls apart, her pleasure a visceral thing pulled taut between us. My collateral glows under her skin, bathing her small breasts in red, and I suck on her harder just to get her a few more seconds, that glow my undoing every time I see it.

One of my secrets is, I already knew how she felt about me. Her admitting it out loud was an exhilarating victory, but her love was obvious long before that.

I knew before she even knew herself—when I saw what she did with the vial of my blood. Where she put it, tightly guarded inside her deepest place of self, in a space reserved only for the most precious things.

Now it glows, the light faithfully reflecting the innermost beatings of her heart. When she thinks of me, when she feels me strongly, when she looks at my smile and thinks me handsome—that’s when she glows. My perfect, beautiful poppy girl.

“How many orgasms do you think you can take?” I ask idly, letting my mouth hover just over her hard, throbbing clit that I know feels too sensitive to touch. Tough luck. “Give me a number, pet.”

“F-five?”

I smile and give her a long, warm lick, her body shuddering. At my command, ropes race to wrap around her wrists. She forbade my shadows to touch her, as if that would make a difference.

“Ten it is.”

She makes a dismayed sound, but I know I’ll have her riding my tongue and moaning in pleasure long after the timid number she gave me comes and goes. I learned how she works, and now I know with complete certainty when to slow down, when to push harder, what to force and what to leave alone. She’s taken so much of me over the last few days, she doesn’t even know all the things I discovered while she writhed helplessly, chanting my name, because it was the only word she remembered.

I’ll be the master of her in every way. Soon.

At first, I am obscenely slow, feasting on her with decadent abandon, each orgasm drawn out and hard won. I lick and suck, taking sips of her wine in between, because it complements her taste so well. Even the most exquisite food bores me, but her blood, her cunt, and her wine are the three things I’ll never tire of.

When she grows impatient, whining for release, I tease her some more, until…

“Please, Woland. Please. Oh, please, please, please…”

It’s like a spell, and I make her come hard, three times in a row, aiding myself with brutal slaps of magic. She screams, pulling on the ropes, tears falling down her face, and I come up to lick them off. They are fealty, my reward for a task well done, and when she finally falls limp, defeated, conquered, mine, I give her water and feed her small bites of apple dripping with honey.

“There, lick that off,” I say, pressing a fingertip sticky with honey to her lower lip, and she opens her mouth without protest, sucking it deep into her mouth.

I close my eyes and inhale, almost coming on the spot. She’s at her best right now, so very obedient and soft, taking everything I offer. I always loved control, but with her, it’s like a drug, almost as good as her blood. It’s probably because she’s denied me so much and so often. That’s why it tastes so sweet when she gives in.

“How many was that, sweetheart?” I ask when she’s done eating, her legs thrown carelessly open, that glow humming at her throat like a constant, heady reminder of how happy I make her.

“Oh, gods… I wasn’t counting. Six? Was it six?”

I grin. It was actually five, and I’ll make her take one more for failing to pay attention. I tell her as much, and she shakes her head with a deep groan even as her legs fall open wider, that greedy pussy asking for more. She lies in a wet spot, and I press my face to the sheets and inhale, loving that she’s so wet for me.

I never thought I would have so much passion left in my old age. For a long time, I didn’t, but she awoke the things that lay buried.

“Woland, please, fuck me,” she whispers, and my hips flex on their own, my cock dying to be inside her where it’s so hot and wet. Where it feels like home.

But I haven’t broken her too thoroughly yet, and mastery isn’t won through easy means.

“Shh, sweetheart. You’ll get my cock soon enough. Is that what you want? My cock in your needy cunt?”

She nods, those big eyes glistening. How I love looking into them. I still haven’t gotten used to her mismatched gaze, not quite, and the little jolt I get when our eyes meet is everything. I heard someone ask her today how she made a god fall in love with her, and her answer was trite and shallow.

It’s not because she rejected me. Plenty of people do—like Perun, thousand curses upon his heart and children.

No, it’s not the rejection. It’s the little things that make me pay attention. Like the eyes. The rare smiles. The things she hums under her breath when she thinks nobody listens. The things she mumbles in her sleep, that even she herself doesn’t realize. Jaga thinks she’s so clever, so closed off, but she holds few secrets for me now.

I know some names that spilled out while she writhed, gripped by a nightmare. A tender lover would have woken her, but I was more interested in learning what she said in that vulnerable moment of terror.

Jaromir. Daga. Miroslaw.

She said my name in her nightmares, too. It made me laugh, and I woke her with my tongue between her legs as a reward. She was so confused, afraid at first, and then horny, always so horny for me.

“That’s eight, in case you forgot to count again,” I say smugly, folding my arms on top of her belly to lean my head there. I deserve a rest. “With how swollen this pussy is, I think I’ll have a hard time coming in. What do you think? Will it be hard to fuck you? Or laughably easy?”

She doesn’t understand me. Her eyes are hazy, face flushed, and when I push her thighs further apart to blow on her wet, oversensitive flesh, she moans and clenches her muscles tightly, giving me my answer. It won’t be easy at all. She’ll probably hurt when I bottom out inside her, and it will be perfect.

“Tell me something. I made you come eight times, my precious girl. Entertain me for a moment while I rally for the final three orgasms.”

“You can… give me the final three… when you’re inside me,” she says, slurring a little, every word an effort.

I laugh. “That’s a great joke. See? You can do anything when you put your mind to it. Let me help you up a little so you can see the beautiful puddle you made for me here.”

The ropes tighten and tug, lifting her up. She cries out, head lolling, and I come up to hold her.

“Look. Do you see that? That’s how wet your master makes you. Who am I to you, sweetheart? Will you tell me today?”

Her gaze sharpens, just a little, and I grin, knowing what’s coming.

“I will not call you ‘master’.”

“Ah, but maybe you will after eleven. Or should we keep pushing? Maybe you have twenty in you, sneaky thing? Maybe then you’ll finally tell me who I am to you? We both know it’s true. You belong to me.”

She shakes her head, more fire burning in her eyes, and I know I have her where I need her. She floated away a bit too far, detaching from her body, but now she’s back, and she’ll feel everything I do to her. She’ll feel it keenly. Just as she should.

“Let’s see now. I’ll make you lose your mind, sweet thing. Or better yet: I’ll make you pray to me.”

Her disdainful scoff turns into a whimper when I spread her open with my tongue, pressing two fingers deep inside that wanton cunt. I send teasing currents of magic into her, just enough to make her aching muscles clench, but not enough to make her come. She shakes and begs, her naked body glistening with sweat. Her words are slurred and sloppy, my girl at her fucking limit.

I adore this place, where she’s strung so tight, there is nothing between us left. This place, the edge of the knife, is where she’s the most honest. My beautiful little liar, finally admitting the truth.

“Who is your god?” I snarl, my patience at its limit.

“Y-you!”

“Say my name.”

“Woland!”

“Say my other name.”

“Diabel!”

“Who is your master?”

“You!”

“You may come.”

She keens, high-pitched and loud, the sound closer to pure suffering than bliss. When she falls on the sweaty sheets, breathing hard, I smirk, even though her eyes are closed and she can’t see me.

“That was nine, sweetheart. Two more. You deserve them since you prayed so nicely to your god and master.”

She shakes her head, some hair that fell out of her braids sticking to her sweaty temple.

“Go… fuck… yourself.”

I laugh and thrust with my fingers that are still inside her. “I’d rather fuck you, sweet thing. A break? A tiny one? I’ll give you something to drink, but my fingers stay here.”

I loosen the ropes. She tries to lift herself up, but her entire body shakes, and it takes a few tries. I don’t help, my fingers buried deep, because I need her to feel and know that I’m inescapable.

When she finally sits, I call a cup of cool water into her hands. She takes a too large, trembling sip and spills the water down her front, and I tsk but don’t laugh. It’s so adorable.

“Such a mess of a girl,” I say with a fond smile, and she sends me a half-hearted glare. “And all mine. Say, sweetheart, can I fuck your pussy and then your ass? I want to see you even more messed up than usual, with my cum dripping out of both holes. I set a wedding date tonight. I think I deserve a special treat.”

Her inner muscles clench hard around my fingers at the word “wedding”, and she looks spooked, her eyes wide with panic. I chuckle under my breath. As I said—adorable.

“No,” comes the expected response. It’s her knee-jerk reaction. “Or wait, yes. But fuck me already. No more games.”

I pretend to think it through. “So eager for my cock, are you, needy thing? But that wouldn’t be fair. I promised you eleven. It has to be eleven. You can’t encourage me to go back on my word, or I will never learn to keep it.”

She groans, throwing the cup into the fireplace. I slow its descent and float it to a table, and it makes her nostrils flare cutely.

“We both know you’ll let me do anything I want,” I purr, pushing her down on her back. “There, my witch. Open your legs for your master.”

I grow painfully hard when she does, no more protests, no more hesitation. I reward her for that instant obedience, the orgasms quick and painless. I’m at the end of my tether, too, my erection throbbing unpleasantly. But that’s only fair. Since I’m making her suffer with pleasure, I should feel some pain, too.

“Good, sweetheart?” I ask, pulling her into the center of the bed. Her body is so heavy, so utterly spent, she has no will left to move. Her eyes are glassy, lips parted and plump. That’s my conquered poppy girl.

“Good,” she breathes, her mouth curving into a tiny smile. “So good.”

I smile back, leaning in to kiss her. She tries to raise her arms, now free of the restraints, to embrace me, but she’s too weak. They fall back to the bed. She sighs into my mouth, and I give her one last kiss and make space for myself between her legs. I’ll take her like this tonight, just like I did that first time. It’s strangely appealing, with her. A man on top of a woman, as it was at the beginning of time.

“Let me in,” I breathe, nudging her hot, wet pussy with my aching tip. “There. Just let me in a little.”

She cries out when I push, barely in with the head, but she’s so swollen, so achy, even that is too much. Her arms come up now, fingernails digging into my back, and I grunt, already overwhelmed by how good she feels after denying myself even a squeeze during the entirety of her torment.

“Sweetheart, it’s just the tip,” I chide her when she shakes, practically sobbing. “You can take much more than this. Breathe nice and long, and let your master in.”

I slide in deeper when she inhales, and she chokes on that breath, her nails digging in harder, her inner muscles clenching as if to deny me entrance. I bow over her, peppering her face with kisses.

“Such a brave girl, taking that big cock so nicely,” I tell her, just an edge of humor to my voice.

She doesn’t laugh. Tears fall down her cheeks, and she raises those helpless, achingly loving eyes to me in absolute surrender. Her heart glows red.

“Woland, please.”

“Anything you want, my pretty girl.”

I push deeper, not even halfway in, and she spasms with an orgasm that has nothing to do with my magic and everything to do with how she finally let me fuck her here. I know I hurt her. I know she was terrified to let me in again, which is why I drove her out of her mind with pleasure first.

She won’t hate me after this. She’ll be well-fucked and pliant, and she’ll let me inside her again in the middle of the night, and then maybe she’ll suck my cock in the morning. I’ll never try the same thing I did back then, because it drove her away for the most horrifying, cruel month of my life.

Forcing her never works. I learned my lesson.

“There, my sweetest,” I murmur, sliding in her painfully tight cunt with only half of my length. “Feel me here? This is where I belong. This is where you need me, yes? Open your eyes. I want to see you.”

I am hunched over her to see her face, contorted like a monster, but it’s worth it. Her eyes are deep and filled with pure, gratifying surrender. She’s open, completely mine for the taking, and I groan from how good she looks like this. My cock jerks, instantly suffocated by her swollen tightness. She lets out a shocked breath, and I plow deeper, even though it feels like there’s nowhere to go.

“Ah!”

She comes, gushing for me, as if my thrust forced that orgasm and the trickle of wetness out of her overwhelmed flesh. Pleasure gathers at the base of my spine, my thighs trembling, and everything slows and grows focused.

There’s just here and now, and this woman. Nothing else.

“Please… I can’t…”

“You can,” I whisper, burying my hand in her hair. “Let me in. I am your god, and I’ve come to bestow gifts. I’ll fill you with magic. I’ll give you everything. Just let me in, my beloved. Let me in.”

I can hardly control what I'm saying anymore. Was I supposed to only speak the truth tonight? No matter. When I'm inside her, it's all true.

“Hold on, love.”

She nods shakily, her body trembling around me with insurmountable tension. I push in until she cries out from pain and agonizing, fulfilled pleasure, and there’s no more space left between us. I’m all in her, and it’s like I said—I never want to leave.

“Look at you,” I murmur, out of my mind with how tight and hot she is. “How good you look, stuffed full of me. How perfect. Will you come for me again? I think you must. You were made for my cock, and now you finally have it, and everything is as the fates intended. So you must come for me.”

I move, too slow and yet too fast, and she cries out, kicking out with her legs as another orgasm grips her. I think I broke her. Maybe that’s all she’ll do from now on, scream my name and come for me.

Perfection.

My hips snap faster, my control pouring out in a current impossible to stop. I thrust deeper and deeper, conquering this woman who still won’t tell me she’s mine, fucking my claim into her as best I can. She’s silent now, body rigid, hanging on to me with blunt nails buried deep in my back. Time stops, and it has nothing to do with magic. My mind snaps, reality growing crystal clear, until the pressure at the base of my spine breaks into a million pieces, and I fill her up with my release.

“Take it. Right there. Right fucking there. Take it all.”

She shakes and whimpers, taking it like my perfect girl, and when I’m spent, every last drop put deep inside her, I slide out and get her ready to take me up her ass. She arches when she feels my touch, and I know she’s done, delirious and exhausted, but the idea of debasing her completely makes me painfully hard, and I can’t let go.

“And you’ll take it here, too,” I grunt, thrusting before she’s fully relaxed.

She cries out from pain and fullness, but there is no mercy for her. I drive myself deeper with every flex of my hips, the need to have her dripping with me and filled to the brim overriding reason and all else. She keens and sobs, clenching hard around me when I force orgasmic magic into her body just to make her tighter and better for me, just so I enjoy it more.

And for a moment, she is mine, and I get lost in the lie, her body the highest pleasure of all, her spirit twined with mine, held close with claws and sheer spite.

“Does it hurt?” I growl, pushing so deep, I can’t believe her body can take me this far.

“Yes,” she sobs, shaking under me with bliss and agony.

“Good.”

I fuck her harder, deeper, until we both fall apart, and fuck, maybe some pieces of me get tangled in her, some of hers getting tangled in me, because when my thorns lock us together, I feel lost and unlike myself, and yet happier than ever.

So maybe I’m not the one in control, not always. But I have her now, and she won’t be going anywhere when I hold her.

Even if I have to marry her to keep her.