4. Valefar
Valefar
The second her small, soft hand fully encases my aching flesh, the universe fractures.
The shock of her sheer touch against my hypersensitive skin blinds me with pleasure. Her fingers have barely settled—cool against the burning ridge of my demon rod—when the molten fire pooled in my groin erupts.
I gasp, a raw inhale that strips my throat.
Every muscle in my immense frame locks most severely.
The sensation is entirely alien, violent in its suddenness.
The thick blood trapped within the swollen column of my cock surges upward, driven by rhythmic, involuntary contractions within my pelvis.
It is a pumping, pulsating pressure, an inescapable crescendo that shatters my breath into ragged pieces.
I stumble, tipping my head back against the wet tile of the shower, squeezing my eyes shut as a warm, shooting feeling travels furiously up my urethra. But Vesper doesn’t let go.
And then, I am spilling over.
It is a felicitous release of tension, a flood of liquid bliss that defies logic.
In the Pit, pressure is relieved through agony and screams. But here, in the icy downpour of this cramped human sanctuary, it is released through this wondrous, paralyzing euphoria.
My body betrays me most spectacularly, bucking slightly as I eject into her gentle grip.
I’m quite certain it must be some debased dance.
I groan deeply, the rumbling sound like a dying earthquake.
My brain struggles to process the physiological anomaly.
It feels as though some foreign, potent nectar has flooded my bloodstream.
A flush of pure warmth spreads from my chest to my extremities, loosening the taut cables of my muscles until I am thoroughly relaxed.
When my eyes manage to crack open, my vision is glazed, struggling to focus on the impossible creature before me.
Vesper is standing there, gaping in absolute astonishment.
Her mouth is open as she stares at my member, then at her hand, and then at the copious, thick volume of my seed that coats her fingers and drips onto the shower floor.
I stare down at her, dumbfounded by her sheer, devastating beauty. The cold water has plastered her hair against her skull, but the chill has done nothing to dim her vibrant life. The vivid, rosy condition still blossoms across her cheeks, and her plump, pouty lips are parted in sheer awe.
“Well,” she breathes, her voice a fragile whisper. “That was fast. Not sure if I’ve ever had a dick so happy to see me.”
But even as the last of the tremors subside, a terrifying, familiar heat begins to pool at the base of my spine. The heavy fullness in my balls does not diminish; instead, it tightens. The thick, viscous blood within me surges back into the network of dilating vessels, inflating me all the more.
I swallow hard, my chest heaving. “Vesper…the pressure. It is rising again.”
Her gaze snaps up to mine. “Wait, what?”
I can only nod, a helpless captive to my own demonic vitality. The refractory period—if humans experience such a thing—seems absent from my biology. The erection still stands proud and rigid, demanding her attention with an urgency that borders on madness.
A dangerous spark ignites in her expression. “Okay. Let’s try this.”
This time, she does not merely hold me. She closes her fist around me and begins to stroke, a firm motion that slides the slickness of my own semen along my blistering skin.
Oh, Lucifer’s unholy crown. The friction is absolute devastation.
It is a buildup of warmth and pressure, concentrated entirely on this one organ, trapping the blood and pulling the tension to an unbearable, exquisite peak.
A low, long growl rips from my throat, vibrating against the glass walls.
My claws dig into the tile, sparking faintly as my entire being focuses on the singular, blinding motion of her hand.
The dam breaks again. The contractions seize my pelvis, violently pumping a second wave of thick release over her fist.
I am completely undone. I sag against the wall, panting harshly. My golden vision is blurry with ecstasy. Through the haze, I hear the smoky chime of her voice. She doesn’t falter. Nor retreat. She merely watches me, her hand still resting against the base of my shaft.
“It’s a chemical cocktail,” she explains, her words musical and rhythmic. “Dopamine for the reward, endorphins for the pleasure…and oxytocin. The bonding hormone. It makes you feel warm and safe. And a little bit drunk on the feeling.”
I am…drunk on her? Drunkenness is a sin of mortals, worthy of punishment. But I have never felt its effect.
I process her clinical explanation, my mind grasping at the logic behind the divine madness. “Chemicals,” I repeat gruffly, tasting the word.
Her smile turns into a big, goofy, proud grin, radiant enough to rival the dawn. “Yep. Biology is magic.”
My chest rises and falls heavily. I gaze down at my body, bewildered.
Even after the second release, the blood is still thick and bloated inside the cavernous tissues.
The heavy sacs beneath remain full, dragging so heavily.
The fire is endless, it seems. A perpetual motion machine fueled by her nearness.
I scan her luscious form, memorizing the tempting curve of her hips, the delectable plumpness of her thighs, the ripeness of her full breasts, like pale, round-shaped fruit, dark, rosy circles the size of a coin, and stiff, pink nipples. Eve herself would be jealous.
I dare not let my eyes descend to the triangle between her clenched thighs. I fear my staff might fall off in its haste to hide inside her haven.
“You must truly be a descendant of Lilith herself,” I rasp, my voice thick with reverence. “To hold such power of witchcraft over one such as I. To summon these…chemicals…with but a touch.”
Her cheeks flush an even deeper, lovelier red. She bites her bottom lip, smiling affectionately up at me through wet lashes. “That’s one of the sweetest compliments anyone has ever given me.”
My chest puffs out. A Duke of Hell, praised. A sliver of pride cuts through me, and the monstrous organ jerks upward, slapping against my stomach as I draw close to the edge of ruin once again.
But I am entirely unprepared for her next move.
Shock lances through my core as Vesper shifts onto her knees. She leans forward, her hair falling as a ruffled curtain around her face, and folds her plump, pouty mouth directly over the flared tip.
“Raaaghh—” I curse, lurching forward as a jolt of pure lightning strikes my spine.
I heave, my hips bucking involuntarily against the scalding, wet heat of her mouth.
The contrast of the freezing water pounding my shoulders and the infernal furnace of her oral cavern shatters the last fragment of my control.
The growl deepens, tearing out of my chest as a monstrous, vibrating rumble.
I release again, jetting my seed directly onto her tongue.
Still, the heat rises. Still, the pressure mounts.
My claws lengthen, but I ball my hands into fists, careless of the blood I shed.
“Mistress,” I gasp out, staring down at her, panic shredding through me. “Mistress, stop.”
She pulls back slightly, her lips slick and shining.
“You must save yourself,” I beg, my chest laboring as if I’ve been running through the lava fields for a century. “If any similar urgings or chemicals must be rising in you…flee. I am certain I will surely die from this unending barrage.”
Vesper only giggles, a light, melodic sound that contradicts the great and terrible power she wields.
She presses a soft, lingering kiss to the very tip of my throbbing flesh.
And then, maintaining eye contact, she takes me down deeper, sliding her lips past the ridge until her throat swallows the head entirely.
All thought ceases.
My hands fly up, hovering right above her curls, trembling with the desperate urge to hold her in place.
I dare not touch her; the risk of my savage strength hurting her is too great.
But Vesper blinks, reaches one hand up, and places it gently over the back of mine, pulling my palm down to rest against her scalp, pressing my fingers into the soft, heavy strands. She is giving me permission.
My claws instantly retract, as if by some innate need to honor and protect this confounding mortal.
I grip her hair. I grip it like it is the last frayed tether holding my soul from the eternal void.
I anchor myself to her as she works, her suction tight, her tongue swirling.
She is the core fiber of my existence in this moment.
The inevitable climax hits me yet again with a cataclysmic, soul-rending eruption pouring down the back of her throat.
And one almighty, certain thought seals itself like a brand in me.
I have found a new master. A Mistress. A goddess to worship, far mightier and more magnificent than any ruler of the Pit.
When my final spasms fade, Vesper rises slowly to her feet. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, laughing breathlessly as she stares at my member. It remains fully rigid, still throbbing and violently pulsing against the air, a stubborn monolith of my demonic stamina.
“Are you doing any better?” she wonders, stepping closer to skate her delicate, water-wrinkled fingers along the corded muscles of my bicep.
I flinch at the electric contact. I scan my unyielding erection, a physical manifestation of my eternal damnation, and then watch her face. An unshakable resolve settles into the marrow of my bones. She is my doom and my salvation.
Slowly, I drop to my knees on the hard tiles before her. The cold water cascades over both of us as I sweep my gaze across her, settling on her face.
“Daughter of Lilith, please spare me from this unending fire,” I rumble softly, a solemn oath carved into the air.
“Whatever spell you have placed upon me, please spare me, and I will do whatever penance or punishment you deem necessary. I will be your servant, your slave. I renounce all fealty to others and pledge myself only to you, Mistress, Lady Vesper Larson. If you would but find some method to put me out of this misery…”
Vesper blinks, tilting her head as she looks down at me. A warm, breathtaking smile curves her lips, and she gives a half-shrug, shaking her head in amused disbelief. “Well,” she murmurs, her voice like a sweet, dark promise. “I guess there’s only one thing left to do.”
My cock jerks violently. Behind me, my spade-tipped tail wags, a pathetic thumping against the glass door, driven by a thread of fragile hope.
Her emerald eyes darken, the pupils expanding to swallow the green. She chews on her bottom lip, inhaling a ragged breath. Then, to my utter shock, she lowers herself down to the shower floor with me.
She straddles my thighs. “Just fyi: this is not a pity fuck. I want this. I want you.”
The world drops out from beneath me. The wonder filling my system is paralyzing as she settles her hips directly into my lap, wrapping her smooth, bare legs snugly around my waist. She reaches down, her fingers guiding the blistering, weeping tip of my shaft directly to the silken heat of her entrance.
The heat inside me rears up like a leviathan breaching the surface, diving straight for my groin with a ferocious intensity.
At the exact same moment, all instinct takes over.
My tail snaps out like a lightning strike, whipping around her waist to bind our pelvises flush together, securing her to me with an inescapable, possessive finality.
“Whoa, Big Guy.” She comments but does not jerk away. If anything…she yields.
My mouth falls open in a silent roar as she slowly, agonizingly slides downward, taking the impossible length and girth of me into her tight, wet sheath. Every nerve ending ignites. The friction is heaven and hell combined. This holy agony rewrites my existence.
As her body fully sheathes mine, burying me completely within her living, pulsing core, I shudder against the overwhelming sensations.
I know, with absolute clarity, both horrifying and beautiful: I have found a new religion.
Vesper Larson has done the unthinkable, the impossible for a condemned creature of hell.
She has made me see God.