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Desperate Demon


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  • 3 weeks later...
  • 2 months later...

Like it’s actually insane how many boxes this checks, it’s got fear wetting, bed wetting, romance, love under duress, humiliation. Male wetting and scat are big turn offs for me but the way they were worked in here I barely flinched. And for an implausible story that doesn’t take itself seriously it’s all surprisingly believable, probably because of how great satyr is at writing this stuff. 

Looking forward to the conclusion in due time 

Edited by bestrapperalive (see edit history)
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  • 1 month later...

Sorry for the long delay! I had hoped to release the end of this series as a single installment, but that would likely be another 5K words. I've struggled mightily with writers' block, and wrote the first draft of this subchapter months ago. Finally I decided I might as well just release it to tide you over until I write the rest.

I struggled a bit with this chapter because I needed it to do several seemingly paradoxical things: I needed it to be violent; I needed it not to seem like it endorses domestic violence, or that such things can be easily brushed aside; but I also needed it to advance the central love story. I know it's not perfect, but I need to just publish it so I can be done with this and move on. I hope you like it, even if it's shorter than the previous chapters!

Chapter 5.1: Demon Inside

Adam woke up to a headache pounding like a jackhammer somewhere around his forehead. He rolled over to see Asha, nude, leaning over the edge of the bed, noisily emptying the contents of her stomach into the paper bin. He sat up, leaned over, held her hair out of the way of her face. His gaze grazed her hairline, then followed along down her neck, down her spine, ending in the crack between her buttocks. He noted that a lazy trickle of urine was making a small wet spot on the sheets. Adam could feel something stirring in his groin, but he chose to ignore it—which was not a tall order given the murderous headache monopolizing his attention—and instead leaned over to the bedside table on his side, retrieving a roll of tissue paper. Once he was reasonably certain she was done, he handed his demon a piece of paper and helped wipe down her mouth.

She turned towards him slowly, displaying reddish eyes with strained tears staining her cheeks. She looked like she hadn’t just vomited, but turned her entire body inside out. “Sorry about that,” she mumbled, then sunk down into the bed, hiding her body beneath the sheets until only the top of her head was visible. This she leaned against his chest, her ear rested against the staccato rhythm of his heartbeat. They lay like that for a minute, each trying to figure out how to start a conversation that needed to be had, but neither wanted to initiate. Adam laid a hand just below her bare breast, feeling her heart work just as hard as his, if not harder. Was she… embarrassed? Nervous?

He tried to properly sit up in bed, but she grabbed his hand and pulled him down again, so that she could lay her head flat on top of his chest. Adam took a deep breath, then finally spoke: “What happened last night?”

Ugh,” she said, turning away from him. He grabbed her face and turned it to look into his eyes. Her eyes widened, pupils dilated, in a mixture of shock and—arousal?

Look at me,” he said. “What happened last night?”

My head hurts,” she said, eyes pleading.

Answer me.” His headache was not doing his mood any favors.

I—I don’t know,” she said.

Adam was not in the mood for bullshit. A long-buried rage rose in him, a culmination of every slight—large and small—that he had ever experienced. His father, drunk, beating eight-year-old Adam with a belt, then sinking down on the floor, crying and offering incoherent apologies. (It was the only time his father ever laid hands on him.) His ninth-grade teacher blaming him for a fight instigated by a gang of tenth-grade bullies. His first girlfriend, in bed with Long John, an acquaintance who was on the short side; her eyes were pleading a forgiveness he was unprepared to give. He felt the muscles in his arms, his chest, his quads and calves contracting, his fingers curling around the damp sheets. There was a whooshing sound in his ears, like an airplane taking off or diving into a wind tunnel. His heart was beating harder than after a line of cocaine. His head was pounding. Adam’s arm reached around, grabbing around her throat and squeezing. “You like that?” He hissed. “Seemed like just the thing last night.”

Adam watched as her eyes watered, a strange keening noise emitting from her throat beneath his fingers, the whites of her eyes bulging out and taking on a red shade. His fingers began to tremble, and then he saw something burst in her eyes, and he let his grip slacken and released her. What the fuck’s gotten into me? I could have killed her. He turned around in shame.

She put her fingers around his neck, and for a moment he thought she was going to strangle him, but she merely redirected his eyes away from the opposite side of the room, toward her eyes.

“I’m sorry I did that,” he whispered. There were red fingerprints imprinted on her delicate neck, and every blood vessel in her eyes was visible. Oh my god, what I have done?

No,” she whispered.

What’s going on?”

Her eyes were searching his, looking for something but he couldn’t tell what. “I had a theory,” she whispered. “That the presence of large concentrations of Sin might free me… from you.”

He said nothing.

But it didn’t work. Not quite like I had hoped. I felt such a rush of freedom, entering that place… I could finally unfold some of the wings that the binding had bound. But it didn’t allow me to fully break free from you. Only manipulate you to loosen the leash a little. It must have persisted.”

“I...” He furrowed his brows, raised his voice from the intimate whisper they’d been employing. “I did things I never would have… You made me almost strangle you!”

A sadness passed over her face. “No, no,” she whispered. “No, I only allowed the darkest parts of you to rise above the fray. I can’t make you do something you don’t want to do, deep down—all I can do is bypass the safety mechanisms, the failsafes that are supposed to make you reconsider decisions made by your darkest nature.”

He pushed her away, Asha teetering on the edge of the bed before she re-stabilized.

“The fuck did you do to me? Is it permanent?” He asked.

I imagine not. The fact that you’re so offended right now suggests that your better nature is already reasserting itself,” she said.

Fuck.”

“Yes,” she said, licking her lips, and he couldn’t suppress a smile.

“Not right now,” he whispered. The shame of what he had just done, what he might have done, clung to him like a sheet on a sweaty tropical night.

They lay there for a second, letting it sink in.

It’s not okay,” she said.

What?”

She traced a finger over the red line across her neck, drawing his attention to a yellowish bruise developing. “What you did. It’s not okay, but I understand why you did it. I know you wouldn’t have done it if not for the… influence of last night. I forgive you, mortal.”

Adam felt his cheeks bloom scarlet.

But if you ever do that again, I will fucking end you. Understand?”

He nodded.

They lay there for another while, not speaking, Adam’s head swirling with emotions—shame, relief, confusion—and Asha’s unknowable.

You’d make a good little demon,” Asha whispered. “There’s a darkness inside you. And when you’re not hurting me, that’s kind of… fucking hot.”

He laid there for a minute, considering this. He knew she was attracted to him—for whatever reason. Why would she say that? An olive branch, he concluded. She was signaling what had happened between them was over and dealt with, and she still liked him.

Why did you do that?” He said, finally. “Make me… want you like that, last night?”

Asha rolled her eyes. “I told you, you mortals are way too stuck up about sex.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t give me that bullshit.”

A strangeness passed over Asha’s face, a kind of bubbling of the skin like a wave passing over a patch of water—just like when somebody invoked the Lord in her presence. “I...” she began, stuttering. “I wanted you,” she spat out. “I might be a little bit in love with you, okay?”

Adam’s jaw fell open.

“Don’t stare at me like that!” She said, blushing. “It’s not like I wanted this, all right?”

He chuckled.

“Oh, don’t you dare,” she said. “I know you feel the same.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say—”

She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t give me that bullshit,” she whispered, her lips very close to his, almost touching when she aspirated.

Okay, okay,” he said, leaning back. “Okay. What does it even matter? Today is the day of the ritual. Either we succeed and I never see you again”—he felt a strange tightness in his throat as he said it—“or we don’t, and we both end up with a fate worse than death. Doesn’t sound like the ideal foundation for romance.”

For such ephemeral creatures, you mortals really don’t know the meaning of the phrase live in the moment,” she said, punching him in the shoulder.

YOLO,” he said, giggling in spite of himself.

“Yow-low? Is that one of those stupid… actuality shows on television you mortals love so much?” She asked.

Forget it. Come on, let’s get dressed. It’s...” He glanced at his phone. “Almost noon, which means we got twelve hours to convince Amy not to hate me, or you, and help us or at least instruct us on how to do the ritual. Before we get eaten by hellhounds and tormented until the end of the universe. No biggie.”

She rose, and he couldn’t help but linger on her pale uncovered skin.

“Oh, and I need to wash these sheets,” he said, as he accidentally put the palm of his hand in the puddle she’d deposited in bed as she vomited.

“Why are you worrying about such insignificant...”

Because you pissed the bed again,” he said, and she at least had the decency not to argue as he took the time to strip the bed before he led her, wrapped in a dirty towel, towards the bathroom.

 

Let’s get your teeth brushed, you stink like a sewer,” Adam said as he led her by the hand out of the shower. He had taken care of the urine clinging to her upper thighs with a washcloth, which had strayed further north, and judging by the way her thighs and abdomen quivered, or the way she ground her pelvis into his hand, she had enjoyed it.

You wouldn’t have noticed if you didn’t stick your tongue down my throat,” she said, sticking her tongue out.

“Shut up.” He’d fed them both more over-the-counter painkillers than was strictly recommended, and she seemed to be recovering from her hangover at a frankly concerning rate.

Wha’s plan?” She asked—he thought—as he dabbed at her mouth with a handkerchief.

“I’m going to bug and beg Amy over the phone until she agrees to at least give us the instructions for the ritual,” he said. “If she refuses to take the call, we’re going to bang on her door until the neighbors start calling the cops.”

“I’d like to meet these ‘cops’ of yours,” Asha said, a flicker of flame dancing around her pupils, licking her lips.

No, no, it won’t come to that,” he said, more like a prayer than a statement of fact. The last thing he needed was for his bound demon to protect him from the police in whatever horrifying fashion she deemed necessary. Visions of human bodies wrung inside-out flashed before his inner eye.

I’m hungry,” she announced. “Make me some food.”

You don’t give the orders around here.” The rumbling of his stomach betrayed him. Damn it. “We’ll grab something to go from the campus canteen. We can take a blanket and have a picnic in the park while I phone stalk Amy.”

How romantic,” Asha said. He never could tell when she was mocking him and when she was being uncharacteristically emotional.

Consider it our first solo date.”

I’m thrilled, mortal,” Asha said, rolling her eyes.

They found a spot in the park that formed the rough center of the campus—slightly offset by the university plaza, where the Dean would hold his interminably boring speeches at the beginning of each semester—and he placed down a ragged blanket, handing Asha a ham sandwich. He’d learned by now that she wouldn’t eat anything that didn’t at least have a small element of meat.

Adam laid down on the blanket, tearing a piece off his own sandwich, and Asha did the same. It was a nice spring day, with only a couple of wispy clouds on an otherwise warm, blue sky. “Look at that one,” he said, pointing at one of the clouds. “Looks like a dancing elephant.”

Are you sure you didn’t knock your head on something last night?” Asha asked. “That’s clearly an amorphous blob of cloud.”

“Use your imagination. What does it remind you of?”

He looked over at her. She scrunched up her brow in concentration, then she giggled. “Oh, I see it now! Satan torching four sinners on a spit above a pit of glowing embers!”

Adam shook his head. Once a demon, always a demon. He was just about to dial Amy on his phone when a familiar voice cut through the demon’s giggling.

“What are you two lovebirds up two?”

Adam sat up. There was Amy, piercing him with a stare that said “I don’t believe for a moment this isn’t a date, and you know I don’t.” He blushed.

“Ames, I’m sorry—” he began.

“Yeah, yeah,” Amy said. “You look like shit, by the way. Maybe not her, but definitely you. Have fun last night?”

Oh, fuck off. Does this mean you’re not mad at me anymore?”

Amy stared him down. Her eyes were dripping venom. “Abso-fucking-lutely not. I’m still pissed. But Peter and I made up, somehow. He’s at least talking to me. And so I figured, assuming he doesn’t end up dumping me after all, you will eventually work your way back into my good graces. You might have to lick my ass for a while—hey! That was not literal, don’t look so goddamn perverted! And in the meantime, we have a time limit to get this ritual done.”

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Hnnnggggggg... What a tease!

The domestic violence did feel like it came a bit out of nowhere, but I don’t think you made it seem normalized or permissible or anything. I didn’t realize how mad Adam was going to be about the last chapter either. 

The romance keeps building and my affection for these characters builds with it. Whenever I read a new chapter they follow me through the day, popping up in my head like ‘hey, remember us? Just think of all the romantic mischief we could get up to!” 

Will Adam’s unrealized powerful necromancy save the day? Will it be Asha? Where is the place where Asha’s heart resides? :O Will Amy come to terms with her kinks? And whatever will Adam’s roommates have to say about it? ;P

Good luck with the writer’s block!

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Mmmmm :)))

Nothing like a back rub behind a tree to overcome pee shyness, eh? But it gave us a very odd symbol of courage 

Asha’s bladder during this whole thing strikes me as an unnfired Chekhov’s gun... but maybe that’s just my own perverted desires.  

Overall, loved the conclusion. The whole sequence of the graveyard was really excellent. Also your knowledge of herbs is impressive. I knew some of those words :P 

i hope the epilogue is as sappy as possible ;-) and wet :P 

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On 8/20/2019 at 6:49 AM, rfthawne said:

Out of curiosity did you actually have an idea for what was going on with Amy and her secret side, or just possible hints?

Yes, I did, but I didn't want to spell it out. Here are the hints I put into the story:

Spoiler

Amy habitually wears childish underwear, as remarked on several times.

When she wets herself in fear of the hell-hounds, it takes thirty seconds for Adam to spot any wetness on her clothes, and there's this line: "She hurriedly tugged at her skirt to lower it, apparently to hide a curious lump that seemed to have swelled between her legs."

When they go to the Chinese herbalist's shop, the lady behind the counter says that Amy comes in all the time looking to "recapture her youth", even though she's implied to be early-to-mid-twenties. A bit young to freak out over her age.

I think with those hints it doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out what I had in mind, but I didn't want to dwell on it because that's not the story I wanted to tell this time around. However, I do enjoy Amy as a character and this universe as a setting enough that I might return to tell her story at some point in the future. That's just a tease, not a promise! I don't want to promise something I don't know I can deliver.

On 8/20/2019 at 1:52 PM, Imouto Kitten said:

I wouldn't call a pdf nicely formatted, but then again, I do all my writing in ASCII-formatted .txt and it'll probably be easier to extract an archival ready copy of the text from the pdf than from the forum.

I confess I don't know much about making documents accessible to people who rely on screen readers. I wrote this in LibreOffice and I don't know if that software spits out any more suitable format.

On 8/21/2019 at 12:05 AM, Bismiris said:

That ended much more upbeat than I had predicted.

 

On 8/20/2019 at 1:26 AM, Sake said:

Seems almost wrong to get such a sweet ending after all that.

Brilliant work. That's all I can say.

I was a bit surprised to see multiple people expect a darker ending, but I'll keep that in mind when writing future stories. Managing reader expectations is an author's job, and you can't really fault readers for reading the tone differently than you intended unless they obviously fail at reading comprehension, which is not the case here, I don't think. I did tell you guys it was going to be a romance, and I had a happy ending in mind all along.

While I did have a rough endpoint in mind (the graveyard scene), I didn't plan out all the lore in advance. I have half a mind to write at least one more story set in this universe, although it won't feature these characters in anything but peripheral roles. Last year I wanted to write a Halloween story, but couldn't get it done in time. I can't make any promises, because I tend to alternate between periods of extreme productivity and periods of nearly zero productivity. It's not something that I can just force. But look out for new, possibly darker stories in the future!

In the meantime, thank you all for your support!

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12 hours ago, satyr said:
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I was a bit surprised to see multiple people expect a darker ending, but I'll keep that in mind when writing future stories. Managing reader expectations is an author's job, and you can't really fault readers for reading the tone differently than you intended unless they obviously fail at reading comprehension, which is not the case here, I don't think. I did tell you guys it was going to be a romance, and I had a happy ending in mind all along.

Don't get me wrong, I was pleased with the ending. Most of the romances I read have bittersweet endings, I was surprised to see that nothing had to be sacrificed for happiness.

 

Edited by Bismiris (see edit history)
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