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His Control

Chapter One

Part One

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by anonymous

Eric sat in the Church pew with his jaw slightly slack. That was not because he was unwell or anything of that ilk and breathing through his nose, but solely because he had lost a touch of muscular control as sleep took him. It was wrong to sleep in Church, anyone would tell him that, but it was hard to think or even stay awake as the priest droned on and on and on, all about the same things, the same sermons, over and over again.

His black hair, in need of another ragged cut, hung around his ears, and he sat with his arms folded over his chest, head slipping down towards that chest. His chin dropped and dropped and it was only the bounce of it hitting his large pectoral muscles, his body thickly muscled from labouring on the farms and doing general heavy work for the village, that woke him, snorting and starting and glancing about guiltily. And yet, for once, Eric had gotten away with one thing that would have surely have landed him in trouble with the priest and many more people too if they had caught him.

He hadn't missed anything from the sermon but he tried to appear attentive until it ended, everyone filing out in their basic, cloth clothing, some wearing leather coats from the hides of animals. In their rudimentary society, there was no need for fineries, but the merchants that came by their village, set on the edge of the mountains, were dressed in such velvet and silk that they could not help but lust and want for kinder times in the course of their poverty. It was a quiet life if a hard life and there were no city politics to take into account, though Eric sometimes wondered, when he had enough time to think for himself, just what the might of the cities and even the capital could hold for a lone man like him.

It wasn't something worth thinking about and, sometimes, it was that very thinking that got him into trouble. Thinking was just what Eric wasn't very good at and he stared and stared at the sickle blade relic on the wall above the altar, hooked there on display. It gleamed like gold and, even though he knew that it was not gold, could not be gold, he hungered for it all the same as the church emptied around him.

Without thinking, his feet moved of their own accord. Perhaps thinking was just as dangerous for him as not thinking was, one step following the one that preceded it with deadly, nefarious intent. The dull, hollow thunk of his footsteps echoed through the church and he groaned as he tipped forward, hands closing into fists, though they would not help him one bit in the pursuit of what he wanted. The relic gleamed and, for a moment, he saw it through eyes that were not his own – they could not have been his eyes. He didn't see worth and value in that way, but the monetary trade value of the relic could not fail to elude him and Eric greedily licked his thick lips, eyes gleaming with the hunger of one who had never known the sanctuary of having a safe and stable roof over their head.

So close...

_ _

He stretched out his hand.

“May I help you, my child?"

The priest emerged from behind the organ with his lips pleasantly curved into a smile, although the implied warmth of it did not reach his eyes. His hands folded within his white robe and he studied Eric carefully as if unsure whether the man would fight back or not, his ill-advised attempt at theft caught in the act.

Swallowing hard, Eric stepped back, although, dully, only allowed his hand to fall back to his side a moment later, leaving it hanging, pointing, in testimony to what he had intended to do.

“Father."

He bowed his head respectfully, hands automatically pressing together in a sign of respect that had not quite disappeared after his childhood years. Something like that would have been saved for more formal occasions but there could have been no more formal occasion for him than being caught with his hand well and truly in the honey pot, so to speak, the relic still gleaming ostentatiously at him from the wall as if it knew just what trouble it had gotten him into. Stupid relic!

“Was there a question that you waited to ask me?" The priest probed gently, although his shrewd gaze told a different story to his words. “I am here for you, Eric."

“Um..." Thickly, Eric shook his head, face breaking into a nervous sweat, droplets rolling down his forehead as he grinned like a fool. “No, no... No, Father. I was merely admiring, yes..."

There were no suitable words set to get him out of his predicament but the priest allowed him only a moment of bumbling until he nodded, releasing him.

“Then be on your way, Eric, it will be dark soon and you know what spirits linger in these parts after dark."

Was it that easy? As if the hounds of hell themselves nipped at his heels, Eric scarpered on his way with a huff and a sigh that belayed the tension in his shoulders. Despite his body aching, he high-tailed it home with half a mind to skip going to church next time the bells rang, although that may well have drawn more attention to him than being there. His barely clad feet pounded and slipped through the mud, leaving a priest in the church with his hands clasped, white hair glimmering and dust motes swirling in a late-afternoon shaft of sunlight above his head.

Despite his grave expression, his thoughts were more so, the relic glowing faintly behind him. That fool knew not what he trifled with and, truly, Eric had already caused more trouble in the village than he had any right to. Did he not know what forces underplayed the church, let them continue on with their faith and teaching as they did? No... No, to have him around would not do at all, not with him getting so close and curious to the relic, unlike the good, church-abiding citizens of the village. No one would miss a village fool, as useful as his muscles were.

The priest sighed, casting his eyes reverently to the heavens as if in search of a higher answer and power. The life of a priest came with sacrifices. Sacrifices he had to make of other people, of course.

“We'll see that you do not do that again, my child."

*

Pacing in his small living quarters – a single storey accommodation that was little more than a hut – Eric frowned, the lines on the floor drawn in wonky paint. That too had been stolen but that was one thing that he had, at least, gotten away with. It gave him some entertainment but, well, trying to summon... Oh, even he felt silly with what he was doing but boring nights lent him to thinking too much all over again, wondering what he could do with the relic if he had it, if it really was possible to escape his mundane existence with a twist of black magic.

And yet even he should have known that spirit summoning arts, in the search of answers, were not for him, sighing and staring at the lines on the floor, something more that he would have to clean up, as if they could offer more enlightenment than they had already. Of course, they remained quiet and forlorn, judging him merely for being there, a man who was merely trying to escape, shoulders aching from hefting load after load of wood up onto his shoulders, trying to switch between them but, inevitably, having to favour one over the other. It wore him down and, still, he thought that maybe there was some force and higher power out there, even God, if one willed, that could ease just a little of the tension from his body.

His soul? Well, that wasn't something that even Eric was all that concerned about. In his opinion, his soul could wait. Redemption for something that he didn't even know that he had done was hardly at all high on his list of priorities.

Sitting heavily on his bed, the ancient wood creaking under him (surely ringed with rot from the damp aroma permeating his abode), Eric sighed, head in his hands. Bristle grazed his fingers but shaving with an old blade was not his strong point and his stubble usually was uneven. Maybe he should just let it grow out into a beard. It was fashionable for younger men in the village to shave or employ the use of a barber for the task but, well, he didn't much feel like a younger man anymore despite his age. He felt like an old man, riddled with rot too, a gnarled, broken body waiting to be put to rest at the end of its days. Hopefully, those days would not come sooner than he wanted them too, regardless of how he ached day in and day out.

The lines wonkily mocked him and, grunting, he poked one of them with the toe of his boot, though the hole in the sole was growing. Just one more thing that got to him, one thing that wore him down.

“If I had that relic," he said out loud, although there was no one there to hear him. “If I had that... I could afford a hundred boots with that!"

One hundred was an extravagant number for him with his simple way of life but not even Eric himself could have possibly known just how the world was set to open up for him, the doors parting and exposing a utopia unlike anything he had ever seen before. The Garden of Eden was just one thing that he never expected to achieve or reach, for there were no goals for men in his village beyond the simple act of living. Sure, some made their way off on adventures but the mere fact that they never returned spoke volumes as to just how successful their adventures were in the end. And Eric had no intention at all of dying when he could, at the very least, warm his toes by a damp fire, kindling crinkling and squeaking as it strove to dry out at the very least, even if burning was not quite within its realm of reality.

“Oh, will you not come?" He said softly, staring at the summoning rings, the paint that had no real meaning, not to him. “Come to me, come to me, for I have waited too long here for you. There is time yet to see what may come through in this world. Arise and come to me, come to me."

The words flowed slowly for, at least, he had practised them before preparing the summoning, although they felt hollow and vacant coming from unskilled lips. He was no summoner and heaven only knew if that sort of thing was at all possible. With rumours of ghosts and demons and kelpies running rife through the land, the difference between the holiness of the church and the starkness of reality clashed in such a confusing manner that it was a wonder indeed that anything could be derived from it in any positive or discerning fashion.

Ah, but the untalented could still summon and waiting ears could still prick to the call. The first mote of dust shifting in the lamplight was only the beginning as it flickered and swirled, calling up the rest from the floor and the drying paint, which stripped itself from the bare, wooden floorboards, with big gaps between them, as if it had never been laid down in the first place. Blinking, Eric's head rose from his hands in time to catch it spinning into a twister, sucking up the dirt from the floor as if it was all needed to fuel the strength and power of something beyond his comprehension...although that was not so much of a stretch.

His mouth opened and closed (not the wisest idea with dust and dirt swirling around maniacally) and he stood, hands loose as if they were prepared to clench into fists, yet his mind couldn't catch up to what was happening. It was too much, all too quickly, and he was not a man of spirituality, truly, even if he had been trying to summon a spirit, a contained gale spinning and whirling and roaring within the confines of his hut, blankets flying and a wooden cup that he'd hollowed out for himself spinning off the tiny table that served as somewhere to eat and rest his elbows. There were no chairs and that was probably just as well as the wind snarled and snarled, rattling the crooked window frames, threatening to break his hut down to the bones, although there was very little of a foundation to stand on anyway.

“What..."

But there was something there, a shape taking form in the darkness, dust condensing, pulling in as if it was about to burst, though into what he could not have told. Everything raced on without his time or consent, Eric staring and staring, dull mind ticking over in a futile attempt to catch up. He was not dumb but he was not particularly quick either and he could not have anticipated that things would escalate both so fiercely and so quickly, his world turning upside down as soon as he felt that he had an evening to sit and think before returning to the dark sanctity of sleep.

The shape that formed was not that of a man but not that of an animal either, standing on two legs as it rose up and up and up, towering over him – at least nine feet, if not more, tall. Eric gaped and made a strangled noise that could have been a cry of fear but the ordeal was only just beginning as the creature groaned, the groan twisting into a bellow as massive jaws pushed out as if the bone was trying to work its way through the skin and flesh of the beast. His stomach turned over but the teeth, thankfully, pulled back into something better resembling a human face, although the lines were not wrinkles that could be found there but harsher, sterner definition that cut through and made the creature appear foreboding and intimidating in equal measures.

With off-grey, near purple, skin, the beast loomed and spread its wings, leathery membranes crackling into existence like the rustle of old autumn leaves on the eve of their death, forgoing the bonds of the mortal world for something more ethereal itself. Muscle rippled through the beast's body, legs rounding out like tree trunks, and a tail lashed, although that was where the otherworldly ended, for he too had hands like a man and feet like a man, despite them being tipped with sharp claws.

The dust fell, leaving a creature that should have had no name in the world of human beings to crack out his knuckles, popping the air from them in such a human fashion that one could have been forgiven for mistaking him for someone more familiar. The purple tint to his skin, however, more leathery in appearance than that of a human being, could not be considered something of mankind, however, and the curved, black horns rising from his bare skull, devoid of hair, along with that tail... Eric swallowed hard as the creature turned its gaze on him. There was only one being in the whole of the Bible that came with features like that, as much as he didn't want to believe it.

“Greetings, human," he said levelly, rasping out a burnt aroma as he spoke, although it was nothing that may have been comforting on a winter's night. “I expected...someone more. Usually, it is a mightier sort that brings me to set foot in this world, though boredom is a fickler demon than I... Would you not agree?"

“What? Who are you?" Eric gaped, scrambling back away from the bed, pressed up against the rickety dresser that had been passed down through his family for too many years. “What do you want?"

“Oh, my innocent one..."

The demon smirked, offering his hand, tipped with claws. Of course, Eric snatched his own away just to make it clear that there was no way in heaven or hell that he was touching that thing, but the beast merely held up his hands as if he had expected that response, picking a morsel of what seemed to be flesh from between his teeth with one, sharp claw.

“You are not one that usually summons me," he said, almost conversationally. “Do you even know who I am? I am confident that you do not."

When Eric merely stared at him dully, the creature shrugged, rolling his shoulders back and spreading both his arms and his wings, making himself seem even larger and more intimidating than he was already.

“I am Malekor!" He bellowed, though only later would Eric discover that his voice had not emanated beyond the walls of his dwelling. “Chaos is where I dwell and, oh, my dearest one of simple times... There is much chaos in your world, is there not? The deaths, the feminine, the twisted affairs... Why, I am proud to say that those minor dabblings are all in my realm and reign! Is that not wonderful?"

Gulping hard, all Eric could think to do was to nod. At least at that, Malekor seemed pleased. Maybe that was all he could hope for.

“Eric... You are an Eric and have no name to mark your family, that is right."

Malekor spoke as if he knew him personally and Eric trembled, hands shaking as badly as they had that day that he had been caught, as a boy, thieving from the bakery. It was a wonder that they had not taken his hands for that misdemeanour.

“Y-yes," he forced out, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, making it harder than ever to get out some words, any words. “I-I... I am... I am Eric. But I didn't want –"

“Yes, that is what they all say."

The demon rolled his eyes, lips parting to reveal a line of sharp teeth as if they had been filed into unnatural points, gleaming with saliva, and Eric's heart froze, although he drew himself up a little taller. He was good for some things and, to hell with it – if it was to be the end of him, he wasn't going out on his knees begging for a mercy that would never come! Let the beast, Malekor, see him standing as tall as he could, shoulder blades pushed back, showing the might and muscle of his body, even through his impoverished clothing. There would always be some things that a labourer was good for, after all, and he pushed his feet apart a little, even though he made no pretence to himself that the demon would not realise that he was getting ready to fight.

If he had to...he would. As much as the thought sent a chilly tendril to wrap itself around his heart, he knew it was so. There was no end for him where he did not howl and claw and kick and fight, pummelling and punching his way down into the dark snatch of the abyss. Maybe it was a fool's talk bouncing off the inside of a skull that everyone said was empty, so very empty, but, damn it, it was his mind and he'd damn well do what he could for it!

“My, my, my..." Malekor raised an eyebrow, although it was more of a ridge than anything a human would recognise as the line of hair denoted to more helpfully convey expression. “You are a different sort, aren't you? No, don't answer that. I don't need to hear your voice. Let me look at you."

The demon's face, grotesquely twisted and ugly, saliva gleaming crudely in the corners of his lips, pushed into his, Eric striving not to suck in a breath as the burning scent of him flooding his scenes. Much less just something that he could smell, it seemed to claw its way into his mouth and wrap itself around his tongue, forcing him to taste the death and destruction from whence the demon had come, a drumming scream roiling against his eardrums as if the demon had only just come...well... From something that Eric would rather not think about, truth be told. It was not a thought to be delved into in that particular moment by any means.

Waiting, he surveyed the human, taking in every inch of him, eyes burning a flash between crimson and orange, the flickering hellfire of the abyss that was his home. Yet it was a home where no human could survive and, indeed, from which no human had ever before returned from.

He will do...

“I have a deal for you, Eric, if you so perchance to take it. Though I must advise you that I will not leave this home of yours empty-handed if you choose not to."

Pressing his lips together, Eric tried not to breathe, the demon looming, clustering in so that he filled his vision, a presence that could not be ignored. Even if he closed his eyes, he still would have been able to feel the demon there, skin prickling in the presence of a predator that could snap him up in one bite, gulping him down and forgetting that he had even existed in the first place. That was just how powerful a demon, any demon, was and he would do well to remember that, taking a shuddering breath in through his nostrils and instantly regretting the fierce tang of brimstone clawing its way down his windpipe, singing the hairs off the inside of his nose.

“Create chaos."

Eric blinked.

“What?"

It was a knee-jerk response but he could not be blamed for not knowing what to say in a moment where words tried to fail him so desperately. The demon's brows pushed together and Eric met his eyes at last, staring him down as levelly as he could.

“Chaos, you pathetic soul – chaos! Create chaos in the world and you will have, from me, the power to control people, every last decrepit soul that this sorry piece of earth has ever seen for itself! That, therein, lies your deal. You make take it or leave it, though only one offer here ends well for you."

A threat had to come hand in hand, of course, with a demon's deal and Eric licked his lips nervously, though he would have rubbed the back of his neck if he had not felt that that would put him a little closer to the demon than he would have liked, a knob from the drawers pressing into his back.

“How..." Eric gulped, throat too tight to adequately complete what should have been a reflex. “How do I do it? Chaos does not sound too terrible..."

That was true on the surface of it. It seemed more of a bonus than anything else, two things that went hand in hand, and, seemingly satisfied, Malekor pulled back, folding his arms across his broad chest, towering as he was apt to do.

“A touch on the mind, a whisper in their ear, sometimes a trigger word – the will to do it will be at your fingertips," Malekor assured him, eyes gleaming greedily. “You must do it slowly, that is all, or you will melt the brain of the unsuspecting. Although what, really, is a few lives lost when you're spreading chaotic discontent, hm?"

Eric shook his head, not thinking about what he was doing. He was not a spirit but the demon had more in hand to offer him than a spirit ever could have, the lines pressed deep into Malekor's palm as if to denote for how many aeons he had lived. Could demons even die?

“I see..." Eric said slowly, rolling the words around his mouth and dragging them out, buying himself time from his frantically pounding heart. “And, for this, all you want me to do is make things chaos...chaotic? You want chaos and that's all? It can't surely be that simple?"

The demon may have had more to say but, alas, Eric would never uncover what the truths of mind control were or the divinities of chaos, at least not from the source. Outside, cloth rustled silently over bare, smooth skin, an elf that was not as tall as the demon but intimidating in her magical demeanour enough to bear up to him crouching below his window. A dagger in her hand glinted in the moonlight, a flicker beaming through a break in the clouds, and she said a silent prayer to her gods, eyes half-closed in reverence. Asha prepared herself, the elfish assassin as respectful of death as she was of life, her body honed and primed, magic flowing through her veins.

“Now... Now, it is time."

She knew how to move silently but not so silently that she could not arouse the attention of a demon. Bursting through the window, the boarded-up rectangle barely holding her back, she raised the dagger high, eyes darting for her victim and finding another body in her way. That much she had not been expecting but any assassin worth the blood that pumped through her veins knew how to change the plan on the fly, twisting and turning to get her way. She was not there, after all, solely to kill Eric but to retrieve the relic that the priest had assured her that he had stolen.

Yet where was the relic?

All Eric knew was the demon leaping back – clearly not one to put himself in harm's way for the want of a soul as weak and as pitiful as Eric's surely was – a bundle of living cloth flying by, capping with streaming, blonde hair that was pale, so pale that it could not hide her slightly pointed ears. The world slowed around him, adrenaline pumping, and his lips parted, hands cast out as if to push her away as she landed, dagger glinting, dropping while she flowed elegantly into her next move.

“No!"

Who cried that Eric could not be sure but she was on him there, panic driving her into a frenzy, her slender body weak against his but she twisted and pulsed like a serpent, rearing back with deadly intent. In such a situation, all Asha could do was go for the kill, end it all, as swiftly as possible, when the moment for sly finesse had passed, and Eric would not be a man to evade her when she had him pinned, on his back, his weight working against him. Her thighs clamped around him, a pressure point that only those of her race knew about in the training of battle, and Asha lunged, one more target remaining in the room, catalogued in her mind, to worry about once the first was duly despatched and no longer, at least, any kind of immediate threat.

They grappled, neither gaining the upper hand, though only a second passed, appearing like a lifetime. In the background, Malekor laughed, feeding something to Eric in a whisper wisp of purple breath that floated from his mouth to the human's seeping in and down his throat to the pit of his being.

“This woman will be no trouble for you..."

Eric sweated, grunting and panting, legs weak, striving to thrust up, to hurl her off him. Why was she so strong? What was wrong? Yet new power flowed through him, even if it was not physical strength and his fingers ached to use it, closing and flexing as if imagining the muscle memory already, even if that did not add up in his mind. He could only...try.

In his desperation, Eric reached for her – mentally, this time. The demon lurked, smile flickering in the dancing light from his burning lantern, though Eric wildly had no idea whether his notion would work or not. All he knew was that that dagger was grinding closer and closer to his face, the point driving down, and the crazed woman on top of him would not let up so easily. Thus, he was only left with the desperate clawing of mind control, though if the demon had tricked him with that to begin with, there was only one end that would become true for him.

And then he was falling – falling, falling, falling, darkness closing around him and sucking him down, although there was no pain. That was something to be grateful for as he spun and spun, clothes twisting about his skin, a man lost to the wiles of the mortal world, though he knew not then, as darkness claimed him, just what world he stumbled into. His mouth opened and closed in a silent scream, howling out the pain of life even as he dared not question where the never-ending fall, ripping at his heart, would lead him.

Life or death: only the waking would tell.

*

When he awoke, it was not to a world that he knew and understood. Dawn licked at the windows, a grey tint infiltrating his hut, although he remembered it being dark when he'd fallen asleep, the lantern still burning. Of course, that precious wax had pooled and melted, the wick dropping in, and he cursed as he eyed the lantern, sitting up from where he had been lying flat out on the floor, something tingling at his crotch.

“Lord damn it..."

It was not the wisest notion to take the lord's name in vain, considering just what had happened the night before, but things of that ilk would no longer hold much sway for Eric. It took him longer than he was proud to admit to look down the length of his body, to see that he was not alone there, that there was a woman – no, an elf – there too, her clothes ripped and ragged where they had been torn open down the front, a splatter of blood on her gaping sleeve. And yet that still was not the strangest thing of all as his eyes travelled over her hunched, bowed body, striving to come to grips with what was happening, why a certain part of his anatomy, at that very moment, felt so good.

Her moan around his cock answered that unspoken question for him and Eric groaned without thinking, leaning back on his hands, palms flat against the floor. He didn't know her, had never seen her before – wait, was she the one that had come through the window last night? He tried to piece together fragments of broken information, heaving and panting, sweat pooling under his armpits, grit and grime layered beneath his nails. It wasn't right but it wasn't wrong either, sensation blurring the lines of sensibility and reality, everything wrong but everything right, wrong but right, right but wrong...

Eric groaned. It wasn't worth thinking about, even though he had to think about it. Why did he feel weightless and why did she, the woman with the long, flowing hair that looked untouched by any manner of dirt, seem so engrossed in her task? It had been a long time since he'd had sex with a woman, had anything other than his own hand wrapped around his cock, and he wasn't so sure how he felt about that. It was not something that a man was normally due to consider and her suckling lips and sweet tongue simply made it more and more difficult to consider anything that he should have been doing, leaning back and panting as her mouth delved down, over and over again.

Falling... Falling, he'd been falling. Yet from where had he been falling? It was hard to think at the best of times but his mind seemed clearer than usual, the woman sucking and drawing him expertly into the back of her mouth as if she was due there and set to demonstrate just what an excellent cock-sucker she was. Truly, her moans around his girth seemed to be for his pleasure rather than hers, for he was most likely not the usual sort of man that an elf laid with, even in times of great desperation.

He didn't think, couldn't think, didn't have to think... Eric's head swam, throat tight, the need to swallow, to fall prey to a reflex, growing and growing. She must have needed him, yes, she must have thought him a stud of a man, such a beastly man that she couldn't help but give herself to him, completely and utterly. That was all there was to it, to life and love and lust, it was all in the nature of being human, walking on two feet. They were animals, after all, and the Church told them over and over again that there were base desires, sinful desires, even though Eric could never have possibly have thought himself strong enough to stand up against them. That was just something that he, as a sinful man, was going to have to deal with, although, even then, he hoped still to find himself at the pearly-white gates of heaven one day.

But things could be different...

No. No thinking. Not then. All he had to consider was how sweetly her lips pressed around his cock, strained into a lustful 'O' around his girth. The skin on his shaft pulled and tugged softly along his length as her mouth slipped over him as if his cock was the perfect size for her, pushing deep and drawing back in a smooth, sensual drive. His cock throbbed and Eric moaned loudly, not caring if anyone heard him – for just what would they see, indeed, if they came to investigate? They'd find him right there with a beautiful woman having the time of his life – and since when would something like that ever be a bad thing?

Asha knew nothing of what she was doing, at least in the sense that she experienced not a single touch of the emotional conflict running rife through Eric's soul. His brain short-circuited and ground to a halt while hers languished in sensual repetition, needing no more from him than his aching shaft. The way that he pulsed and throbbed between her lips was truly delectable, unlike anything that her broken mind had ever felt before, but not even she knew that chunks of her life and memories simply were no longer accessible. Her mind was no longer hers to experience as an individual human being, wavering and broken, something turning it into a vessel to be filled and used, just as the owner of it pleased.

And that was okay. As long as she had her master's cock in her mouth, the king's dick, the lord's praise throbbing straight up into the back of her throat. It was all she needed, so very much so, and she moaned around him as he drove deep, hips working, up on his knees, thrusting and thrusting as she fell, reverently to all fours in worship. What better way could she have, after all, of worshipping him than taking his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the slick, fleshy tip whenever he drew back? No longer was she even in tentative, feigned control, suckling on his shaft, but Eric took charge, bodily instinct and drive sending him on and on to slam into her mouth, pushing over her tongue and nearly knocking her gag reflex, the tingling pulse in her throat. Of course, things would have gone massively awry if he had crudely pushed on by that point, though it was not to be as Asha sucked and sucked on him until her cheeks hollowed, only wanting to show her powerful lord and liege how much she adored him, how much she could do for him. She would do it all over and over again if it meant that she could be on her knees before him for the rest of her life.

Eric grunted thickly in the back of his throat, whimpering lightly, though it would not make him seem any less of a man to one who adored him so. He didn't have to know that as he rocked on his knees, the flooring shifting under him, a loose board grinding up into his kneecap in the most uncomfortable of positions, and yet he could not help that he was there and he was a man and he needed what the assassin, if she'd ever really been one, was offering to him. The manly groans rolling forth from his wet lips redeemed him slightly and he bared his teeth in a savage kind of grin, rocking and thrusting and angling entirely for his own pleasure. He wasn't going to go out, oh, no...not at all...but he was going to most certainly go 'on' with a bang!

Orgasm was not slow coming to a man who had not felt the sweetness of a woman's mouth on his cock in a fair old while. He did not hold back, letting the cord of tightness thrum up more and more stringently in his soul, pulsating and tingling, bringing a rise to his heart like nothing else ever had before. He needed it and he was going to let it all loose, whimpering and moaning, grinding into her mouth as if she was nothing more to him than a hole to be fucked and filled. Eric moaned, mouth agape, and finally filled her with his cream, cum spilling forth in a pulsating throb that heralded his ultimate release.

His moan rose to the ceiling of his little hut and beyond but he didn't care about the notion that anyone could hear him, not when he could take so much for himself and only himself. Moaning and humping into her sweet, sweet mouth, the world fell away from him as he grunted and spent himself, slamming and heaving, muscle tense with contractions. Yet his orgasm would not go on forever – not without a little more prowess and sexual training in his repertoire to pull out – and he leaned over her, a hand on her shoulder, the woman's hair spilling forward as if to shield her humiliation.

Yet there was no humiliation truly to be had as she licked his cock clean, taking her time in cleaning him up as if she had all the time in the world for him. In her mind, there was nothing that could have dissuaded her from her task, what she wanted, what she had to do, what she had to serve. She had to take him into her mouth, suckle him deep, lust after him with everything that she had and then some. It was all there was for her then, now and forevermore, her dominant looming over her forebodingly with his arms crossed, the very picture of power that, all along, she should have truly been worshipping.

That, however, was just the image she had of him in her head and Eric was not all-powerful and all-knowing. In all honesty, he was just a man, even though he was most certainly just a man who had lucked into something beyond his wildest dreams. And just who would not take advantage of something like that when the opportunity so sweetly presented itself?

Grunting as the woman drew back, hair sweeping alongside her face as she bowed, Eric shook his head. In the aftermath of climax, his throat opened up again, although he had to work his mouth more than he was proud to admit to force the words out, grunting and gulping and shaking as if he had been labouring all day. Who knew that sex could be as tiring as working the fields under the hot sun? There, however, was no question as to which was better.

“Y-you..." He said, raising a thick finger and pointing at her as if that needed additional clarification. “You... You tried to kill me."

Licking her lips, Asha knelt up with a beatific smile, knees folded neatly under her body as if she was praying before the altar.

“Yes, Eric."

He blinked. Was she really not going to deny it? Was she not going to say anything more about it? Sweating, his heart beat a little quicker. Did that mean that she was still going to try to murder him? Was it all some kind of sick ploy of hers?

But it was a little easier to think without his cock in her mouth and Eric stuffed it into his braies, his pants, the loose cloth easily swallowing up his cock. But just where his trousers were was another question entirely, even though those were so misshapen and cinched in at the waist with a piece of rope that they were hardly at all suitable as any kind of clothing anymore. For him, however, with the little coin he had at his disposal, they would have to do.

“You were trying to kill me then," he repeated, trying and failing to get his head around it, what had happened and what was still want to happen. “I was trying...trying..."

And then it hit him, eyes wide as he stood there with one hand on the rope holding up the clothing covering at least some of his modesty, chest bare and heaving with the faintest gleam of remaining sweat. It had not been random that he'd fallen at all and he hadn't actually, not truly fallen in the end either. He'd been there with the demon, reaching out to the woman, trying to break her, to bend her to his will. With her knife at his throat... He shuddered. There hadn't seemed to be anything else that he could have done but, right there and then, seeking out something as ludicrous as mind control was a true act of complete and utter desperation, the scene of a man backed into a corner by a wild beast. Yet she was no beast as she knelt serenely before him.

With his mind clearer than it had ever been before, he sighed and ran his fingers back through his hair, not minding the little grease that clumped the strands together. Finesse and delicacy there was something for the upper classes to worry about, not a labourer.

“You tried to kill me," he said simply, “and I stopped you. What is your name?"

A simple question but one that could reveal more if he was careful in how he went about it; she could still very well have a knife hidden under the many folds of cloth in her robe. Yet she answered readily, turning her face up to him with her smile ever-present, adoring and reverent as if Eric was the greatest man she had ever seen in the whole world – godly, in fact.

“I am Asha."

She said no more and he waited, wondering. Could it be that things worked? Could it be that, indeed, he had gone and done a deal with the devil? Was that even something, after all his years of religious attention, however faint it may have been, that could happen to a man? He'd been trying to summon a spirit... And was it possible that all of that could have gone terribly, wonderfully wrong?

He wouldn't have questioned such things normally, merely going along with it, and he relished in how much more clearly his thoughts came, flashing rapidly through his mind. Of course, raw sensation still ruled as he was a tactile man and that nuance of himself could not be helped but everything simply seemed...easier. Was that a good way to put it? Yes, yes, it was, he decided for himself, standing taller, towering, his shoulders pushed back to show off the round of muscle there.

Things had changed. And it was about time he started living up to the intricacies of that change. There were answers to be had...

“Tell me everything," he said sternly, though he no longer felt that he had to try to make himself seem stronger and more powerful than he was in all reality. “Why did you want to kill me? Why don't you want to kill me now? What brought you here, to my home and the village? Why did you wake me...with my cock in your mouth?"

The last question was difficult but more because it pulled his lips into a grin, tugging and teasing. How ridiculous...yet gloriously so. It was something out of his wildest, kinkiest imaginings, his sordid dreams twisting into glorious reality. It was a good thing and a bad thing, a thing that he could not put a name to, something that he wanted to lust for and push away too, both emotions conflicting and twisting together. But that did not make it worse as she smoothed her hands down over her knees, teasing a crease from the folds of cloth, though the fine fabric had become grubby in the process of their joint lust.

“There are many questions there," Asha said pleasantly, as if she was merely taking stock of the day with a friend. “I did not want to kill you, but I was ordered to kill you by the Church leader. I believe you call them bishops... No, the abbot, though we do not worship the same gods that humans do and I cannot say. My family needed money to purchase medicine from the humans, what our magic cannot cure, and the humans in the city did not want to give it to us in trade for services, although we did offer that. I had no other choice and I am not sorry for that."

Her words slipped from her lips with a smile, clarity shining through her expression. She was quite right in that she did not feel sorry at all, for it was all something that had needed to be done, even though things had not quite gone to plan either. Fingers trembling, Eric swallowed and ran his hand back through his hair, masking how they shook, though it took no strong mind indeed to work out just who had passed on the information that had made it up the chain of the church.

“I see..." He tilted his chin up, stubbornness curdling. “And why didn't you kill me then?"

“I no longer have any desire to," she said as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “I never had any desire to but there no longer seems to be any need to. You'll ensure that my family has the medicine they need, won't you?"

Eric's eyes widened.

“I-I guess, I can do what I can."

“Oh, thank you!"

She flung herself at his feet as he stood there, swaying awkwardly, though her tight clasp around his legs, Asha's face close to his crotch, was not entirely unappreciated.

“And..." He struggled to get the words out once again. “The rest of the questions now. I had more."

Asha smiled.

“The answers are in what was already said, my king. I came to complete an assignment, to earn the coin to save my family, my father and his sister who are so very unwell. The abbot paid me to murder you. I never wanted to do it and I still don't want to kill you, much less anyone else, now. I woke you with my mouth because you deserved it, oh lordly one..."

Her head bowed, forehead resting on his bare feet, and Eric squirmed. It should have been uncomfortable to see her below him, in such a subservient, powerless position, and, yet, it made him feel taller than ever. Nothing in his stance had changed but there was strength in how she deferred to him, his cock still tingling from her attention.

Yes...

_ _

He looked at his hands in wonder as if they had been the very tools with which he had broken and twisted her mind, for there could not possibly be any other explanation for what had come to pass. The demon had been there, Malekor, and a deal had been struck, clarity coursing through, thoughts racing. Everything had happened, everything was true, and, simply, he had the obscenely engorged power to control minds, even if his first time had been clumsy and, duly, knocked both of them clean out cold.

In but a moment, everything had changed. And now it was time for Eric to make use of his new knowledge. His lips twitched into a smile, although there was nothing reluctant about it. Had the demon not asked him to cause a little chaos? That much, perhaps, he could do...

And there was revenge to be had too.

“There, there," he murmured, letting her come up and reverently press her cheek to his leg, eyes shimmering with tears of adoration. “There is no need to fret or worry now. I will care for you."

The words came from him as if another had planted them in his mouth for him but that was nothing for Eric to be concerned about as his mind shone crystal-clear in the aura of enlightenment. He knew more, could do more, than ever before and that was all that mattered, his cock aching for attention once more. That was something too that he could take for his own and it was with a throaty chuckle that he, again, freed his erection, testing the depths of her devotion to him, the elfin woman who stared up at him from such a lowly position as if he was a god.

“Oh, my king..."

Her lips closed around the soft tip of his cock and no more words were needed, only moans. She could display her devout devotion to him over and over again with his cock in her mouth, driving more powerful this time up into the back of her throat. Asha hacked and gagged, tears tingling in the corners of her eyes, but she could not feel pain or discomfort from such a thing – she was with the one that she loved, after all! And, oh, Eric would care for her, look after her, see that all was well in her life. Yes, yes... Her eyes misted over, half-lidded as his cock firmed up completely in her mouth, thrusting over her tongue. Loyal to him, yes, only to him. That was all that mattered now.

Eric had his answers but there was pleasure too to be had and he was due to take all that had been denied to him for so many years, heart pounding as everything that had ever held him back before fell away. No more would he labour in the fields and no more would he have hard chunks of bread for dinner. No one would know what he'd done to them but they'd all treat him like the king he was, truly, however he needed that to be. His stomach would be full, his accommodation secure and his life of controlling chaos beckoned him with a seedily crooked, clawed finger-tip.

In the underworld, Malekor laughed.

Yet it would all be well as he rammed his cock into her mouth over and over again, moaning out his lust and his passion as the need to climax swept upon him. He didn't have to hold back and he relished in the power that in itself gave him, cramming his cock into her mouth as happy tears streamed down her face, tongue trying to twist around the head of his cock every time he pulled back. But he didn't allow her much room to move as his knees bent slightly for leverage, hammering into her as if her mouth had now simply become just another hole to fuck, something to be ground into for his pleasure and his alone.

Orgasm throbbed up swiftly and she drank down every drop too like a seasoned slut, suckling his shaft between her lips so that not a single droplet escaped despite the headier load. More aware of himself, he leaned over her and growled thickly in the back of his throat, eyes wide and wild. Yes... Yes! This was everything he wanted, everything he'd dreamed of! His feet spread on the rickety floorboards, covering the dirt, and he thought of a time where he would not have bare dirt showing in the floor of his home, a time where things would be better, so very much better. And it was that too that made the drama of his climax all the more enticing for enjoying in that manner.

Yet there was one thing that he needed to do first.