8. Valefar
Valefar
“Imust pay my respects to a descendant of the ancient gods of the sphinx,” I tell her as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
The feline trots up to me and begins to bat at my hair, claws sinking in. Perhaps I am being chastised for my many sins.
“Oh, great godspawn, have mercy upon me,” I plead to the noble creature.
Warm hands suddenly close over my biceps, Vesper urging me to my feet.
She laughs, her eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that makes my deadened heart stutter.
“We don’t kneel to pets in this house, Big Guy,” she explains, her thumb tracing my arm, squeezing ever so slightly. I must learn why, but first…
“Pet?” I blink, curious over the hidden term as I only know of the “caressing” kind.
She nods, standing on her tiptoes. I lower my head, and she kisses my cheek, then bends over to pick up the feline by the scruff.
“Come here, Ozzy.” The cat instantly crawls over my summoner’s shoulders and balances in a precarious, yet masterful perch.
“Pets are animals we keep on our land or home, simply because they bring us joy. They’re like offspring.
” She gestures to Bethie. “But most have fur.”
“Do I worship you alone, then?”
She pauses, her lips parting, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, you can worship me anytime you want, Valefar. But let’s keep that to intimate, private times. Oh, but kisses always permitted. And the occasional ass grab.”
I grin. “Duly noted.”
“Occasional,” she reminds me, winking.
The little sphinx rubs her cheek. “Ozzy is its name?” I wonder, staring at the furry offspring.
“Named after Ozzy Osbourne.” She scratches his cheek.
He purrs heartily. “Ozzy was the name of the Prince of Darkness, pioneer of heavy metal.” She leans over the counter, and the cat descends with the kind of graceful alacrity belonging to its kind.
“You can pet him whenever you want. Just know he has claws.”
At the flick of my tail, Ozzy leaps from the counter and pounces on the arrow. I flinch, startled by the offending feline, and retrieve my tail, tucking it into the crook of my arm.
I eye the tiny predator as he stalks away, his own tail flicking dismissively. “What is this heavy metal? Is it some sort of mystical metallic weaponry?”
Vesper tilts her head with a sweet smile. “I have so much to teach you.” She stretches, the slip riding up her thighs and sending another spike of heat straight to my groin. “Well, I don’t have to go to work until around noon. So we still have a few hours.”
I am entirely at her disposal, but before I can offer myself, she unbuckles the chair harness and scoops up the tiny twin, who eagerly embraces her mother. “First things first. Potty training time.”
I follow them out of the kitchen but wisely stay in the hallway as Vesper carries Bethie into the small tiled room with the porcelain water basin. I lean against the wall, listening closely to the strange domestic rituals of my Mistress.
“You’re such a good girl, yes, Bethie,” Vesper coos, her voice dipping into a playful cadence which sends a strange, pleasant shiver down my spine.
The way she speaks to her offspring—with such unbridled, gentle affection—is completely foreign to the brutal, tearing screams of the Pit.
I find it utterly adorable. Sweet, gurgling sounds echo from the tiny beastie.
Then, the tone shifts. “Are you sure you don’t have a poopy?” Vesper asks.
I go a little pale. A poopy? Is it a disease? A demonic parasite? Some sort of human affliction? Should I intervene?
Before I can barge in to protect my Mistress from the dreaded ‘poopy’, I hear the rush of water from the metal faucet.
“It’s fun to wash hands, yes!” Vesper cheers.
Water splashes playfully, followed by the toddler’s bright laugh. “Wash hands!” the tiny twin babbles.
When Vesper finally emerges, she is holding Bethie on her hip, shoulders lowered in relief or possibly respite.
She carries the toddler to the front room, depositing her into a contraption that bounces on the floor with rattles, rubber objects, and a variety of bright, colorful toys. They make rather odd sounds.
With a press of a button, Vesper signals a large black mirror on the wall to blink to life, displaying brightly colored, overly joyful equines.
I nearly leap out of my skin. “Sorcery! Mistress, the mirror projects illusions.”
“Easy, Vale. It’s called a television. And those illusions are moving pictures, purely for child entertainment.”
My Little Pony, Vesper calls it.
I lean in, my ears pricking with curiosity.
I am still trying to comprehend the strange pastel creatures on the screen when Vesper’s hand wraps tightly around my wrist. I’m a little stunned when she suddenly tugs me away from the living room, leading me straight into her bedroom and then into the adjoining bathroom for another shower.
I certainly don’t disagree.
The moment the hot water cascades over us, the domestic tranquility shatters.
“Hey, Big Guy.” She roams her hands along my torso and chest. Both bulge and flex to every touch. She squeezes my bicep again. “God, you’re so ripped.”
I glance down, confused. “Do I have a tear?”
She giggles again. “It means you’ve got muscles for miles, and I want to climb them like a tree.”
Gods, she’s the most beautiful, beastly creature I have ever encountered.
“Mistress?” I arch a brow.
“Ask me anything.” She leans in, her hips jutting forward in what I recognize as a seductive measure.
“Is it time for…worship?”
Her concentration fixes on my monstrous erection, which is evidence of my desire. An erotic grin crosses her face. “Yes. It is, Vale.”
“May I worship first this time?” I recall how she took me in her hand, then her mouth. But…now, I wish to know more about this special place of womanhood between her thighs.
“Of course. But…would you mind if I show you what I’d like? At least this morning?”
Her eyes shimmer beyond the dark strands fracturing her face. Her cheeks are warm and flushed. Her nipples rub against my muscles. If she asked it of me, I would find some way to give her the sun.
“I am yours to do with as you wish, Lady Ves.”
“Ves or Vesper today,” she dictates before reaching for a pink-colored bottle. Uncapping it, she squeezes some sweet, fragrant liquid into my palms. “I would like you to wash me, Vale.”
My cock jerks against her stomach. Her expression turns feisty, and she rubs herself against my member. Her soft, firm breasts plump against my flesh. By the Pit, I’m close to losing control.
So, I don’t hesitate. I grip her hips and turn her around before I take her in a rage.
Her back to my front. And I wash her, confounded by the bubbles forming in my hands, but I hardly consider them when my hands sweep across her skin.
Tipping her head back against my chest, she makes that lovely moaning sound with her throat as I worship her breasts, rubbing and tweaking her stiff nipples.
After collecting more of the mystical liquid, I work the sweet aroma into her hair. My blood thrills with every whimper, every moan, every gesture.
Finally, I inch my hand lower until my fingers touch her luscious femininity.
“Mmm, Vale, don’t stop,” she cries out, her hips writhing, her pussy thrusting out like she’s trying to ride my hand.
A primal, desperate need overcomes me. As intense as the one humming from her. Lowering my head, I purr low, “May I tassste?”
“Please do!”
Without another thought, I turn her around, pushing her against the shower wall before I kneel before my summoner, my savior.
She curves her fingers against the walls as I stroke my tongue along her folds, tasting a sweetness which rivals whatever scent was in that liquid.
I groan deeply against her and drag my demon teeth in a light scrape along her lush haven.
“This part here…” She taps a little nodule of flesh at the top of her womanhood. “That sensitive part…it’s called a clit. Remember when I licked and sucked you? Kind of like tha—ahhh!” she shrieks from my coarse tongue licking her clit.
“You taste divine,” I growl and suck the wondrous flesh between my lips.
Those hips thrust so much like mine when I’m inside her.
Hmm…I remember how much she loved to ride my staff.
While I am not in the position, I ease the arrow of my tail into the wondrous opening of her pussy.
My tongue does not stop. And when I circle it around the nodule, her hands dive for my hair, gripping it with a surprising strength.
Mirroring the movements of my length, I pump my arrowed tail in and out of her center, marveling at how wet she is beyond the shower. I love to rouse the wetness inside her.
Three more pumps, three more circles of my tongue—she bucks her hips hard, tips her head back, and grits her teeth around a screech as her expression transforms into the flushed gold of pure euphoria.
I don’t stop licking. I don’t stop pumping. I go deeper. I lick harder.
And her grip on my hair grows stronger. “Vale!” She gasps. “I-I’m going t-to—”
“You are so celestial.” I flatten my tongue against her pretty clit, so swollen. I slide my tongue in deeper, stroking it along her inner walls.
“Oh, sweet demon!” she shrieks and clamps down, her insides spasming and pulsing around my arrow. My cock hardens, lengthens from the overwhelming, sharp sensation.
I love her rapture. I love giving her pleasure.
And when I rise, when I lift her into my arms and push my head at her entrance, she only tightens the grip of her thighs around my waist.
So, I press her harder against the wet tile, my mouth finding hers. The taste of her is an intoxicating drug, sweeter than sin itself. Her hands tangle in my wet hair, pulling me closer as I sink inside her until I can go no further, burying every inch inside, filling her.
Her head falls back. She gives me her throat, urging me to bite and give her my venom. Her sweet whimpers, our ragged breaths, and the wet slap of skin make a symphony.
I take her hard. With every thrust, she cries my name, shattering around me as I pour my essence into her.
Afterward, as the steam clears and my mind slowly reassembles itself, we step out.
Vesper changes into a becoming outfit. Too becoming: distressed jeggings, as she calls them.
They fit snugly, accentuating every curve.
And her shirt is white and hangs loose, one shoulder bared.
Her skin is luminous. Her whole body screams confidence, allure, and joy.
A joy she seems to wear more after our coital relations.
Rummaging through her closet, Vesper seeks something to cover my nakedness. She tosses me a pair of oversized, worn gray garments.
“These are some old sweats from my ex, and a big hoodie,” she says, looking me up and down. “They’ll work until we find you something more permanent.”
I pull the fabric over my head, inhaling. It smells faintly of something old and stale, quickly overpowered by Vesper’s lingering, divine scent. “What is the meaning of this term… ‘ex’?” I inquire, testing the strange human word on my tongue.
She pauses, a brief shadow crossing her features. “I’ll explain later. Or you’ll find out on your own.”
It is a cryptic answer, but I do not press. Not when she is already moving on to her next task. She examines a stack of folded white papers on her dresser and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Goddamn bill collectors.”
I understand the implication of the word. We have something similar in hell.
My mouth curves into a grin as I approach her from the side. “Do you wish me to torture them for you, Vesper?”
She flashes me a faint smile, her shoulders lifting. “Tempting, but I’ll be fine. Resilience is my middle name.”
I part my lips, but I don’t know what to say to the words. I wish she didn’t need to wear such resilience.
“I’m going to take Bethie for a little walk to the park before work,” she announces. “But I’ll have you stay here. This will be a good test to see how far apart we can be. And you need to do some much-needed reading so you understand my world more.”
I bristle slightly at the thought of being separated from her, but my duty is to obey. In the family room, she scatters an assembly of colorful books at me. They are small and short but hard, betraying the imprint of tiny teeth marks.
“I assume you can read?” she seeks to verify.
I nod. “We must know the Laws of Hell.”
I eye a few books, intrigued by the titles of “Are You My Mother?”, “All About the Weather”, “Goodnight Moon”, and “The Berenstain Bears Forget Their Manners”. How unusual.
She also places a stack of something called “magazines” before me.
Vesper then grabs a small black wand and points it at the television screen. The cartoon equines vanish, replaced by a group of humans sitting in a strangely decorated tavern, laughing at each other’s misfortunes.
“You can watch some pop culture while you’re at it,” she says. “This is FRIENDS.”
She leaves with Bethie shortly after, the front door clicking shut.
I stand in the silence of the rambler, staring at the humans on the screen before turning my gaze to the stacks of knowledge waiting for me in her home. I have much to learn.