Chapter 7 #2
Waylon Steiner stood in front of the minibar, swirling something brown in a glass.
His suit was navy, his shirt open just far enough to show off the fresh tattoo on his collarbone—Greek letters, I guessed, but I couldn’t read them.
He didn’t bother to turn as I entered. His attention was on the other guest.
The man—no, the creature—standing beside him was nearly seven feet tall.
He wore a Tom Ford suit that looked tailored for a pro wrestler, and his skin was the shade of old slate, smooth and matte.
His face was sharp angles and shadow: high cheekbones, black hair razored close on the sides with a braid running to mid-back, and a nose like a blade, ridges from bridge to nostrils pierced with three gold rings.
His eyes glowed red, but not like a wolf’s; the irises were vertical, a cat’s eye that shimmered and narrowed when it caught the light.
His mouth was wide and full of fangs, the canines more saber-toothed than human.
His hands were massive, with fingers tipped with black, lacquered claws.
I’d seen monsters before. This one was bored.
“About fucking time,” Steiner said, setting his drink on the bar. “Slave, get over here.”
The tea was still in my system, dulling the panic, but not enough to override the fresh spike of fear. I forced my body to move, stepping forward on the too-high heels. The demon (because what else could it be) watched with the air of a food critic sent to review a McDonald’s.
Steiner walked around me, eyeing the leather dress and my bare legs. “You look like a dime-store fuckdoll,” he said. “Perfect.”
The demon’s gaze raked over me, assessing, then flicked to Steiner. “Is this the one?”
“That’s the girl I told you about. Strong as hell, but she’ll fold if you put the right screws to her.” Steiner grinned. “She’s the best piece of ass in this place.”
The demon inclined his head, polite. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
Steiner pressed a hand to my lower back, right above the tailbone, and forced me to stand still. “Strip.”
He didn’t say it with any emotion, just as a statement of fact.
The magic in my blood thrummed. My hands moved to the zipper without waiting for my permission.
I peeled the leather dress off, folding it over a chair, then stood there naked except for the shoes.
My skin broke out in gooseflesh from the sudden chill.
Steiner made a show of looking me over, then turned to the demon. “You want a drink, Maltraz?”
So that was his name. I’d heard it whispered in the club before. Maltraz, the business partner. The one even the witches were afraid of.
Maltraz waved a hand. “Later. Have her dance.”
Steiner grinned, teeth showing. “You heard the man, slave. Put on a show.”
I wanted to run, or at least punch someone.
My wolf screamed at me to move, to fight.
But the spell worked better than any collar.
I walked to the pole on the slightly raised stage and wrapped a leg around it and spun.
My routine was certain; my steps sure. When my feet met the stage, they slid apart, hips rolling.
I danced, slow and sinewy, arms above my head and hair swinging in front of my eyes.
I pretended I was someone else, someone who wanted this and not who I was—a woman buried in humiliation.
Steiner leaned against the bar. Maltraz just watched, expressionless, as I moved, bending, twisting, grinding my body into the nothingness between us.
“She’s graceful,” Maltraz said finally. “I see the slight scars. I like them.”
Steiner snorted. “Cost me. Had to cripple her old career to kill her dreams.”
Maltraz made a low sound, somewhere between a laugh and a growl. “You mortals. Always so wasteful.”
He gestured to me. “Come here, girl.”
I stopped dancing. My heart thumped loudly in my chest, but I obeyed. I crossed the floor to him, my knees threatening to buckle at the way his eyes drilled through me. When I got close, he reached out and tilted my chin up with a single claw.
“You know who I am?” he asked, voice like gravel dragged over silk.
“Yes, sir,” I managed.
He cocked his head. “Say my name.”
“Maltraz.”
He smiled. “Say my title.”
I hesitated.
Steiner barked, “For fuck’s sake. He’s the Demon King! Don’t say you know who someone is if you don’t really know who they are, my dumb little fuck slave. Think of him as your king tonight, slut. Get on your knees and show him respect.”
My knees hit the floor before I could even think. Maltraz stood in front of me, looking down with absolute, predatory patience.
He moved over to one of the velvet couches and unbuttoned his jacket and the bottom button of his vest.
“Crawl to me, and when you get here, you can unzip me,” he said.
I hated this man, but I did it. I crawled the short distance to the sofa and got back on my knees.
My fingers shook as I worked the zipper down of his expensive pants, revealing a cock that was, of course, as inhuman as the rest of him: gray-black, ribbed, with a subtle spiral to it, and a double row of piercings running along the shaft.
I could feel the magic in the air, crackling like ozone, making every hair on my arms stand up.
“Worship it,” Steiner hissed, somewhere behind me.
“Yes, get my cock good and wet with your mouth, girl.” Maltraz looked down at me as I took him in my mouth, the way I’d done for countless others, but the taste was different: salt and burnt metal, and something else, something ancient and wrong.
“Now spit on it and use that pretty little tongue to work that spit all around.” When I started, his cock jerked.
I’d never seen anything like this in my life.
I admit I’d have found it a bit fascinating if I weren’t being forced and humiliated.
And if I hadn’t been programmed to respond to this type of sexual humiliation.
I hated myself for feeling my pussy clench.
“Steiner, I smell your slave’s arousal.” He was laughing at me. I wanted to die.
“For a girl that I know hates me and hates being forced, she’s quite a cum slut.” Steiner laughed, and I realized he had his own cock in his hands, pleasuring himself.
I ran my mouth and tongue over the demon a few more times before his massive clawed hands picked me up by my upper arms and slammed me down on his lap and onto his massive cock.
The pain was excruciating, and I cried out, praying he didn’t rip me open.
He just groaned with satisfaction, throwing his head back.
He then started to piston into me from below; my pleasure was not a consideration in the least. I was glad of it.
I did not want to reach an orgasm while this vile creature found his release.
The only good thing to happed was he came quickly, spilling inside me his cum running out of me and down his pants.
I wanted to laugh at the nasty mess he had made.
I kept my face stoic. He lifted me and unceremoniously tossed me onto the sofa as he went into the adjoining bathroom.
Steiner still had his cock in his hand, pumping it faster. “Come here and finish me slave. On your knees.” I crawled to him. Hating my life more than I ever had. I hoped and prayed that Jess had found a way to rescue me from this literal hellish nightmare that was my life.
Steiner thrust himself into my mouth a few times before he pulled out and shot streams of cum onto my face and chest. He grabbed a handful of my hair and twisted hard, making me look up at him. “Now you see what real power looks like, don’t you?”
I didn’t reply fast enough.
He slapped me open-handed, and my cheek went hot. “Answer.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
I still knelt on the floor, eyes to the ground as Steiner grabbed a towel and wiped himself off and zipped up his pants.
Maltraz had re-entered the room, straightening his jacket. He looked down at me, face unreadable. “You did well,” he said. “Perhaps next time, you’ll remember my title.”
He walked to the door, nodded to Steiner, and vanished into the hallway.
Steiner looked down at me, still kneeling, still dripping. “You’re nothing,” he said. “Not even a wolf anymore. Just a hole for men better than you.”
He turned and left, slamming the door so hard the chandelier rattled.
I stayed on the floor for a long time, trying to pull my thoughts together, trying to remember what it felt like to have control over anything.
Eventually, I went into the bathroom and wiped myself off with a towel and put on the dress I’d worn up here. Then I’d left the room for the elevator.
As I rode down to my dressing room, I looked at my reflection in the black glass walls. My face was smeared, my body marked, my eyes red and raw. But somewhere deep behind them, I could still see a flicker of something that refused to die.
Maybe Jess would come for me. Maybe he wouldn’t.
But if he did, I’d make sure he burned this place to the ground.