Love Cherish Obey: Chapter Two

NSFW Content Warnings

Femdom ❤ Femsub ❤ Biting with Fangs ❤ Bloodplay ❤ Choking (No Breathplay) ❤ Cuckholding (kind of) ❤ Degrading Language (intelligence, sex drive, gender) ❤ Girldick ❤ Hair Pulling ❤ Physical Restraint ❤ Threats of Sexual Violence ❤ No actual sex in this chapter though, sorry

Rosalind struggled to sit upright as the demon crouched down toward her. "Foolish girl," it murmured, "the summoner stands outside the circle. I took you for a sacrifice and nearly sent you back to my abode." It leaned in uncomfortably close and stared at her with empty black eyes. "You meddle with forces you don't understand, and you will pay the price."

Don't show uncertainty. Don't show weakness. "I have paid the price." She held up her arm to display the seeping wound. "The blood of a virgin. In significant quantities."

The demon grabbed her arm and wrenched it closer. Rosalind gasped as the creature licked the oozing blood fresh from the source. "You've paid for my passage. You'll pay for your stupidity yet." It reached behind, grabbed a fistful of braid, and yanked her head back. Fireworks of pain exploded across her scalp. The creature drew close and sunk its teeth into her neck.

Rosalind tried to scream, but all that came out was a strangled yelp. She filled her lungs to try again when a burning hand clapped across her mouth and pushed her head down into the dirt. The demon climbed onto her and sat on her chest to pin her to the ground. Rosalind started to thrash but it was no use; the creature was too strong, too heavy.

The beast licked its lips. "Nothing quite like the blood of a virgin. But a virgin for how much longer?" Rosalind realized with horror that she could feel itsits cock hot and heavy against her neck. It throbbed and grew with the demon's heartbeat—thicker, longer with each pulse. The scent of the demon's musk filled her throat and made it hard to think. This wasn't right! The spell was supposed to bring back the dead, not summon a demon! And if this was how demons behaved, what would be the point of summoning one? The point of conjuring a demon is that it does what it's told!

Ah, Rosalind realized.

Had she told it to do anything? Or had she expected the demon to meekly wait for orders like a chambermaid?

"Stop!" she commanded, despite being muffled by the creature's hand.

Its grin became feral. "Pathetic," it growled. "Mewling wretch. Your words can't save you." Its cock was hard and wet against her face.

But it didn't do anything else.

"Get off me," Rosalind choked out. The grin faded into a snarl. Rosalind summoned the tatters of her will and focused them into a point. "Get. Off. Me."

The demon let out a frustrated cry and stood. It glared at her and flexed its claws. Rosalind gathered herself and shakily climbed to her feet. It stepped closer, close enough to feel its hot, brimstone breath. She glanced down to see its half-hard cock was almost touching her. Despite herself Rosalind retreated one step, then two, stumbling backward. "You think you can control me?" it spat in her face as it backed her up against the hedge. "You don't have the will." Rosalind flinched and squeezed her eyes shut. It made a pleased sound deep in its throat and grabbed her wrists.

An order, she thought desperately. I have to give it another order. Something that will take longer so I can catch my breath. A job. Something useful. A useful spell. A tidying-up spell. For after killing a…pig. The idea was so ridiculous she almost laughed, but it was the only one that came to her. She opened her eyes again and met its gaze. It was leaning over her, its face mere inches away. "Clean up this mess," she commanded, indicating with a wave of her hand the entire area.

The demon growled, then turned toward the clearing. It gestured and the candles flared back to life with an infernal intensity that made Rosalind's eyes water. The magic of the summoning had gone, and the pool of blood was no longer a portal to hell, merely a puddle around Cyril's corpse. Blood was splattered around, and the lawn nearby had been churned to mud. The demon knelt down to touch the ground and all the blood shivered, then flowed toward it, gathering in streams.

"You don't know what you're doing," it said, more calmly than before. "You'll slip and I'll take my due." It glanced over its shoulder at her, black eyes glinting in the firelight. No, Rosalind realized, not it. She. The demon's voice was definitely female. As was its figure, despite the…appendage. She pushed the thought out of her mind, but the memory of it pressing against her lingered on her skin. But her gambit had worked. She'd had a chance to put her thoughts in order.

After a few moments the blood from the clearing had gathered into a sphere in the demon's hand. She lifted it to her lips and slurped, drinking it with big, thirsty swallows. Then she turned to Rosalind. "Now for the main course," she announced.

"Not yet," said Rosalind. "First: me." The demon's eyes widened in surprise and a lascivious grin reappeared on her face as she approached.

"Changed your mind, have you?"

"Absolutely not. Clean the blood off of me."

Scowling, the creature grabbed Rosalind's arm. Rosalind yanked back and the demon held on, sharp claws digging into her skin. But the blood covering her, both Cyril's and her own, obediently crawled toward the demon's hand, leaving her clean, at least, of blood. The demon released her arm and drank this blood as well, gaze not leaving her face.

"Now him." She pointed at Cyril, lying in the circle. "That's why you were called."

"Him?" The demon walked to the corpse and crouched down next to it. She examined the wound, then looked pointedly at the athame still clutched in Rosalind's hand and smirked. She dipped a hand into the wound, soaking it in blood, and licked it off languidly as she strolled back toward Rosalind, her long, black tongue twining around her fingers. The noblewoman found herself strangely distracted by the sight, something almost hypnotic about the way it coiled—

Suddenly Rosalind found herself pressed against the demon, looking up at her from between her breasts. A strong hand grasped her neck just below the jaw. A hot length of…of something pressed against her stomach. Stop pretending you don't know what it is, she thought to herself dizzily. Claws dug into her neck. Too late, she realized that "now, him" was hardly an order.

"Br—" she started, then gasped as the demon wrapped fingers in her hair and yanked. Sensations bombarded her: sharp pain flared again in her scalp; soft, warm skin against her face; strong grip on her neck; hot, hard cock on her belly. She felt like she was slipping into a warm darkness. The demon made a throaty sound of approval and her erection throbbed. Rosalind tried again: "Bring him back," she said and was horrified when the words came out as a moan.

"He's already right here," the creature purred. "It's a good thing he can't see us, or your husband would die again of jealousy when I take the chalice that he wasn't man enough to taste."

"He's not my husband…that's the problem…"

"Oh? Little slut bit off more than she could chew? Panicked when she realized what it would actually involve? Then she still went in for a second bite?" The claws tightened around her neck as the demon lifted her from the ground. "You murderous wench," she said with appreciation. "You deserve this. I'll take what you promised him and then some."

Her mind raced. No, I—He was going to—So I…I murdered him? I…deserve this? She started to cry, softly. What's happening? No, no, this isn't what I want.

"No—" she choked out. "Fix him."

The grip loosened even as the demon's muscles tensed.

"Get him back up…walking around…one more day…"

"It will cost." The demon let go and Rosalind stumbled back, coughing.

"I…I already paid!"

"Open your ears, idiot girl. I'll not repeat myself again. You paid for my passage. This kind of work costs…extra."

"Costs what?" The book said nothing about an extra cost. She could hardly imagine what the demon would ask for.

"The only coin you have to bargain with: blood."

Rosalind felt faint. She'd already lost so much. How much? And how much more did she have to spend?

"Feeling a bit out of pocket?" A cruel chuckle. The demon turned and looked at the house visible beyond the walls of the hedge maze. "A house like this is bound to have servants. A maid or two. Let me have one of them."

Anna! "No!" she pleaded. "Don't involve any of them!"

The demon spun and stalked back to her, fangs bared, claws outstretched, tense with so much feral anticipation that she seemed to grow even larger. "Then our negotiation has failed!"

Before the beast could reach her Rosalind clawed desperately at her collar, ripping at the buttons to bare her neck and shoulders. "From me!" she wailed as tears streamed down her face. "Take it from me!"

Howling with defeated fury, the demon grabbed her like a doll and sunk vicious fangs into her shoulder. The noblewoman went limp as she felt life drain out of her. The jaws released her, and bloody lips crushed into her mouth. Her vision went dark at the edges as the demon sucked the air from her lungs. Then she was tossed aside and landed in a painful sprawl on the damp ground. She curled into a shivering ball. She'd survived another payment, but the night's injuries were beginning to add up.

The demon returned to the corpse and kneeled down beside it. She studied it a moment, then grabbed its chin and pried its mouth open. "You're still required here," she told it in a soft, low voice. "A gift: the living blood of your would-be lover." A bright red ribbon of liquid streamed out of her mouth and into the corpse. "Her breath," she continued. She leaned forward, pressed her lips against his, and forced air inside. "And a little something from me," she said with finality, gathered her saliva, and spat. She wrenched the dead jaw closed and examined her work with satisfaction.

By this point Rosalind had sat up and was watching with bleary curiosity. The demon stood. "My summoner," she announced with a flourish, "I give you:"—she paused, grinning viciously—"Exactly what you asked for!"

Cyril lurched to his feet. Rosalind stood slowly. Something was wrong.

"Well, what are you waiting for, man? Your fiancé is waiting!" The demon clapped him on the back and he stumbled awkwardly. "Go give her a kiss," she hissed.

Cyril turned toward Rosalind. His eyes were empty, mouth wide and drooling. His face was pale corpse-flesh lined with purple veins. He shambled lifelessly toward her.

"No! This isn't…this isn't what I wanted!"

"Get him back up!" the demon taunted. "Walking around! One more day!"

"Alive!" Rosalind wailed.

"I don't know, he looks pretty lively to me!"

"No, no!" The corpse drew nearer, arms outstretched, reaching for mer. She cowered and sobbed. "Stop!" she shrieked. "Don't touch me!"

Cyril stopped coming toward her and stood there, staring.

"Have you ever heard of a husband with such devoted obedience? Truly the perfect mate! I'm sure a murderess like you isn't bothered by the reek of the grave in your marriage bed!"

"Undo it…put him back…"

"Are you still not satisfied? You'll need to put up with a partner's flaws if you want to be a bride! Ah well, he's yours to cast aside, if that's what you want. Just don't expect a refund."

The demon approached and grabbed Cyril's head. Black sludge emerged from his eyes and crawled into the creature's hand. The corpse went limp and collapsed to the ground. "Now, is that all? Let's skip the rest of this farce and get on to the part where you get on your knees and start praying that I am easily satiated tonight; that I am spent after fucking you merely two or three times."

"The book…the ritual…it said you could raise the dead!"

She threw back her head and cackled. "I can! I did! This is what that looks like! But true resurrection?" She shook her head and wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. "No, not possible. My kind doesn't have that kind of power. And you couldn't afford it if we did."

The world spun. It was funny, in a way. Of course, Cyril's book of mad rituals wouldn't work. But…it had worked, hadn't it? She'd called up an infernal beast from the pit of hell. She'd overturned the natural order and made a corpse walk. So why not?

"No…not good enough. I will not allow a demon to stand here and tell me what is and isn't possible. You're already impossible. This wedding must happen. I've come too far for anything else." She took a deep breath, then focused her gaze on her demon. "I command you as your summoner. You will make it happen. You will do whatever it takes. Whatever the price, I will pay it. If I'm to die afterward then so be it." Then her family would inherit, at least. She'd already considered herself a sacrifice, so let her be a sacrifice in truth.

The demon reeled as if struck. She stared at Rosalind, a grim expression on her face: disbelief mingled with rage. "You stupid—You can't force me to—There are limits, you dumb bitch!"

"I don't care!" Rosalind screamed.

The demon flexed her claws like a cornered lion. "I will tear you limb from fucking limb! I will flay the flesh from your bones while you watch! My siblings will dance in showers of your blood and praise me for the glorious death I've wrought!"

"After!" Rosalind spat. "Not until after you do what you're told." Blood throbbed painfully in her temples.

The demon's muscles tensed, and she struggled as if fighting invisible bonds, trying to claw her way toward her summoner. Rosalind felt as though her skull would split, but she held. By God, she would hold until she'd used every last drop of herself. The demon howled her anguish to the sky, then slumped to the ground, laughing weakly. She seemed to fade, somewhat. The pressure on Rosalind's mind eased, but she didn't relax.

After a moment, the demon straightened into a kneeling position and turned to face the corpse. She stared at it sullenly and poked at the wound. She started to laugh again, quietly. "He's gone, girl, he's—"

She stopped. Rosalind held her breath. Those flat, black eyes were difficult to read, but…she'd gotten an idea. A minute passed that felt like an hour as crickets chirped in the moonlit silence.

"Maybe…" the demon finally said, "maybe there is something I can do." She slowly turned to Rosalind. "I have your permission to do whatever it takes to make the wedding happen?"

"Whatever it takes," Rosalind repeated. "As long as you don't hurt anyone but me." Something about the demon's tone made her uneasy.

The demon smiled. She stood and slowly walked toward Rosalind, like a languid lioness approaching its prey. Rosalind's instincts screamed but she forced herself to stay still. "My summoner, your wish is my command. Leave it all to me. I have only one request for you."


The demon stepped closer with an unrepentant carnivore grin, heat baking off her nude body, and put an unwanted hand on Rosalind's shoulder. "Drink some water, eat something, and go the fuck to bed." She pulled Rosalind close, their bodies pressed together, and used a claw to tilt her head up to look at her. "Tomorrow's your big day, after all!"

That assurance was all Rosalind needed. Oh good, she thought. She relaxed in the demon's arms and all at once the night caught up to her. She slid out of the embrace and was out before her head hit the grass.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," said the demon.

* * *

Rosalind drifted through a warm darkness, dreamlessly. Then, she grew cold and opened her eyes. She found herself in her childhood bedroom, as it was before the money had run out. She was in bed, on a soft mattress, buried in comforters. Oh, a good dream, she thought, and snuggled into the soft pillows. A relief after the nightmare. Despite that, she was uncomfortable. A chill had snuck under the covers. She climbed out of bed and went to warm herself by the banked fire.

The past and present were mixing in this dream, and she found that she was an adult, fully dressed and corseted. No wonder she'd been uncomfortable. She considered ringing for a maid to come help her undress, but then became unsure of whether she was going to bed or getting up.

Her train of thought evaporated when she spied the pitcher of water and realized she was parched. Forgoing the cups, she lifted the pitcher directly to her mouth and drank deep.

She crouched by the fireplace, but the fire wasn't working properly and didn't warm her. Perhaps that was why it was dark outside despite being daytime: the warmth and light had gone out of the sun. She giggled as she imagined God calling a repairman. Could a ladder long enough even be found?

Nothing she could do about it. She went back to bed.

* * *

Sleep was fitful, between her aches and the chill. But eventually warmth returned to the darkness. The sun must've been fixed, she realized. Pleased, she cuddled closer to the warmth's source.

"No, don't wake up," a voice said. "I'm just here to fix you up a bit."

A warm hand pressed onto her face, covering her left eye. A woman was sitting on the bed, leaning over her, but she wasn't sure who it was. The room was still dark.

"I don't think this one was my fault…" the woman muttered. "Seems like he got what was coming."

Gentle pain bloomed across her face, and she winced. But it was a healing pain and quickly faded into a healthy warmth. Her vision cleared a little. The woman tending her was solidly built with short black hair and pale red skin. And, Rosalind realized, a pair of curling horns like a crown. My demon. She was a bit surprised that the demon's presence was comforting rather than terrifying, but dreams were odd like that sometimes.

The pad of a thumb pressed into her lip, right over where it was split. "Nice full lips…Mmmm, no time to really enjoy them now." A slight burning feeling shot across her lip and then there was no more pain. Enjoy my lips? Unbidden, a vision of the demon's black lips sprang to her mind. She sleepily pursed her lips and gently kissed the demon's thumb. "Oh, you like that idea?" Of course. Who wouldn't want to kiss a pretty girl?

The hand trailed down to her neck. "This was definitely me." The demon spread her fingers, matching them to where she'd gripped Rosalind's neck earlier, and smiled. Again, there was a gentle pain and again it faded.

She considered Rosalind's dress for a moment, then pressed her claws into Rosalind's shoulder. She winced and prepared for pain, too weak to resist. The pain didn't come; the sharp claw lightly traced her skin as the demon, with careful control, tore her dress down the seam to expose her shoulder and upper arm. "You have plenty of dresses." Rosalind wasn't sure that was true but was in no place to object.

She reached the bite wound on Rosalind's shoulder and gazed at it longingly. "Another taste would be nice…but any more and you might not be able to stay on your feet tomorrow." Instead, she trailed a finger across it. There was an intense itching sensation as it instantly scabbed over.

The demon worked down Rosalind's body, tearing her dress off as she went, repairing the night's hurts with a gentle touch at odds with her earlier viciousness. Rosalind was surprised to find that she hardly felt embarrassed as her clothes were removed bit by bit, eagerly anticipating the next touch, the next cessation of pain.

Rosalind suddenly wanted to touch her demon's warm skin. Feeling free of inhibition, she reached out a hand, only to unhappily realize her demon was now, for some reason, wearing clothes. She pressed her palm into her and was pleased to find she could still feel her warmth through the fabric. "Is this all it takes to win you over? A tiny scrap of kindness? I'm the one who did this to you, remember?" Rosalind remembered, but at the moment she had trouble caring very much. The demon continued her ministrations in silence.

When it was over, she was left in her chemise and felt like she was floating, radiating warmth and comfort. Her demon pulled the covers back over her, gathered the discarded scraps of dress, and opened the door to leave.

"Thank you," Rosalind murmured thoughtlessly, sinking back into the bed's softness.

"Don't get used to it."

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