Title: Punished Thief
Ananke wakes up to someone else’s hand between her legs, rubbing slow, concentric circles against her clit, as well as that telltale wetness. Another pair of hands are keeping her legs spread and her hips from moving.
It’s slow enough that the arousal builds up like burning, just on the edge of too much stimulation to be pleasant. This has been going on for a while, she thinks with her last brain cell. No wonder her dreams had been so disjointed. A whine escapes her mouth.
She tries to move her hips again—it’s involuntary at this point, an automatic reaction of over-sensitive nerve endings—and the grip tightens. Another whine, this time for the odd way pleasure builds like this, when she can’t move, almost spreading out and building much more slowly.
(There’s a good chance she’s come before, from the slick feeling between her thighs and how sensitive she is, but she’s in that place in her head where opening her eyes or mouth sounds like too much effort, so she can’t ask. Or maybe there’s another reason she can’t ask—she can’t quite remember how she got here.)
Coming still feels good, like this, but it’s muted and burns more as she shudders her way through it despite the enforced stillness, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that nothing’s inside her.
The hands on her legs let go, and she expects, as the last waves of orgasm dissipate, that the hand against her clit will also disappear. Instead, they keep rubbing, the only change a slight increase in speed.
“Wha—” Ananke croaks out. She cracks her eyes open, and suddenly she’s aware of much more of her body and where she is.
Her vision’s blurred from the fact that her focus is less shattered and more ground into fine sand for her to have any idea where she is, but she can feel she’s on a bed, her tied together over her chest, her legs tied together at the ankles.
As though she needs more reasons to be uncomfortably aroused, that’s when one of them (there have to be two of them, right?) speaks.
“You’re awake, then?” he asks, his voice deep in a way that it would settle somewhere low in her gut, if it were at all physically possible for her to feel more aroused than she already does. “Good.”
He takes his hand off her clit, which just makes the question she’s about to ask stick in her throat. “Hnng,” is the best she can come up with.
(She’s not tied to anything, so she could technically flip over, or scooch around, but otherwise her freedom of movement is pretty restricted like this, so she can’t actually sit up and look at him. Not that she feels like moving, at this point.)
“Do you remember why you’re here?” he asks.
“No?” she finally manages to force out, the lack of stimulation allowing her to somewhat gather her thoughts. She doesn’t even really remember falling asleep, just strange dreams and waking up like this. It feels good. She wishes he’d put his fingers back on her clit.
“Yes?” A more feminine voice answers.
“Fix that for her, please?”
It feels like something unlatches in her head, and she sits bolt upright, tearing the ropes binding her hands and feet, freeing herself.
She remembers these two, vaguely, dim figures that had come upon her in their personal library. She’d been hired to steal a book from them. Married demons, living on Earth for reasons that presumably made sense if you were the kind of demon to go through the hassle of a legal ceremony.
Before she can use any of her unnatural strength to try and escape, she feels two hands grab her wrists in iron grips. She struggles just long enough to realize how futile it is. This is not a good sign, she is stronger than any living human as a matter of course.
“Don’t bother,” Sam, the woman (close enough?) says. “The worst part, of course, is you knew who we were.”
Ananke stares at her. Now that she’s freed herself (and been freed? What was that?) she can look around, but her attention is drawn completely to the demon in front of her.
Her most noticeable feature are the two sets of three small horns growing out of her red hair on either side of her head. They’re the most noticeable because Ananke has seen breasts before, and whatever the hell Sam is, she doesn’t seem to be putting much effort into making those that interesting, relatively. Her skin is a dark grey color.
She’s hot, is the basic summary of all of this, which Ananke supposes is to be expected.
“I…” Ananke says. “I was hired.” It sounds like such a weak defense, but it’s all she has.
“You violated our home,” Sam says, matter-of-factly. “You knew who we were. You broke the doors.” She smiles. “I would have killed you, but Jal thought this would be more fun.” Her nails dig into the flesh of Ananke’s wrists slightly. “You are strong. You could be useful.”
Ananke tries to break out of Sam’s grip a second time.
She’s suddenly yanked backwards by the hair, landing flat on her back again.
“Don’t try,” Jal says. “It won’t work.”
Sam lets go of her wrists. For a moment, Ananke considers making yet another attempt to get away, but the thought quickly slips from her mind.
“Are you going to behave?” Jal asks.
“Excellent. You may sit up.”
She does, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
Sam is standing there, which is distracting enough; she doesn’t need demon magic to be hot, that’s for sure, though Ananke can’t help the vague wish that she’d done more than just hold her legs. Standing next to Sam is a man with skin the color of a blizzard. He doesn’t have horns, but that doesn’t matter, because Ananke’s just staring at his cock. Which would be embarrassing, except she can’t bring herself to care anymore.
He smiles. His eyes are the same sort of colorless as his skin, but his hair is fine, shiny, and black.
She wants him to fuck her. She wants him to fuck her really, really badly. This desire isn’t entirely sudden, but the renewed intensity takes her off guard. That doesn’t matter, really, though, does it, because she wants him inside her, and badly.
“Yes, good,” he says.
He’s on top of her, shoving her backwards onto the bed again, holding her wrists down on either side of her head. She can feel his cock against her entrance, and she’s wet enough that he pushes himself inside her without much effort.
She groans as he pulls out again, thrusting back in with enough force that she’s pushed back slightly.
He kisses her, presses his tongue into her mouth and like this she can feel that his teeth are a little bit too sharp.
His pace is far from as fast as she wants, and he trails biting kisses down her neck and chest as he fucks her.
“How is this punishment?” she gasps out. It feels too good, like this. She knows, vaguely, that she wasn’t asked, that he’s taking her in a rather literal sense, but she doesn’t care. The connection doesn’t exist in her brain anymore, and all she can really feel is building heat and the relief that she’s being fucked, finally.
“Tonight, your pleasure was important,” Jal murmurs into her neck. “But it will not always will be.”
His cock gets slightly bigger inside her, and she bucks upwards, wanting to take as much as she can.
“You are ours, now, to do with as we please.”
That doesn’t sound so bad, Ananke thinks. It sounds right, not quite the natural order of things, for all of this is far from nature, but something like that.
He spends himself inside her with agonizing slowness. It’s never quite enough to bring her off, even as she shudders.
When he pulls out, Ananke braces herself for more stimulation.
Instead, she’s forced to sit up, the slickness between her legs cleaned up with magic, and Sam puts her hand on Ananke’s neck. She’s still vaguely aroused, but neither demon seem particularly interested in doing anything about it.
She squirms at Sam’s touch.
Sam looks back at Jal for a moment, then stares at Ananke, unblinking. “Design?” she asks, no expression on her voice.
“I imagine a black leather strap would be sufficient,” he says.
“I shall make it continuous,” Sam says. She takes her hand away, and Ananke abruptly feels the weight of a collar there. There’s a ring in the front that rests in the dip in her collarbone. “You are able, in the most technical sense, to remove it, but I would advise against it.”
She pinches Ananke’s left nipple between her thumb and forefinger and twists.
Ananke yelps. “What—”
Sam shrugs. “For all his talk, Jal enjoys your pleasure.” She makes a face like she’s smelled something unpleasant. “Stand.”
Ananke pushes herself up on unsteady legs. A look of self-satisfaction crosses Sam’s face.
“You’re so pleasant when you’re broken,” she says.
Ananke grins at the praise. “Thank you, mistress,” she says.
Sam makes a humming noise low in her throat and idly places her hand on Ananke’s waste. Looking over at Jal as the human’s mind shuts off almost completely for the moment. “Follow me,” she says. “I’m not finished with you.”
Jal nods. “Yes, mistress.”