Demon Sex Doll: Part One (Dubcon, BDSM, Demon, Edge play) by U. R. Knickers

Author:U. R. Knickers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: bdsm, edge play, cutting, demon lover, dubcon, extreme bdsm, breast abuse

Day 2

Sarah woke with the sun streaming in her eyes and moaned. Her whole body ached, her muscles, her joints. Between her legs was sticky and twitchy, and her nipples were raw. She opened her eyes opened to the blinding light.

Chester was nestled in the crook of her arm. Blood was smeared on his face, his chest, his arms, and he had a white crusty substance on much of him. His member had thankfully turned back to a normal size, or at least doll size. She could detect a pale shadow in the nest of his pubic hairs, which still looked oddly realistic.

“I guess you won’t be telling me what happened last night, at least until later.”

Sarah looked at the clock. “Shit, it’s eleven.”

She would have bounded out of bed, but her body was too sore and she yelped. No way she was going to work today. When she called in, part of her was shocked to discover she was fired. The other part, the part that was painfully aware of how her body felt, that was wondering what would happen tonight, simply thought: Of course.

Sarah decided that instead of worrying about money, she’d take a bath. She took a book and the doll with her.

A wheeze came out of her, an old man rattle, as she eased herself into the water. She slid down, into the soothing heat up to her neck.

The fact that she didn’t believe in god was part of the reason why he was here. He called himself a prince of hell. If she couldn’t extract herself from the situation—and she couldn’t, after last night she knew she couldn’t—she could at least figure out what the fuck was going on.

The water cooled and she almost nodded off.

Feeling the floor beside her, she found her book first, then the wash cloth, and then the demon. She dipped the wash cloth in the water, squeezed it out good, and dabbed at Chester.

It didn’t take much at all to get the blood off. He was clean in a few minutes and wrapped in a towel.

Each time she rinsed the wash cloth off in the water, she very deliberately did not think of whose blood, whose fluid, stained him. There was something sticky in his hair, and a vague image came back to her. Him, kneeling between her legs—not fucking, not pleasuring her—feeding. He’d spoken to her, in a language she didn’t know, but it was soothing. The touches there had been light, not the brutal assault he’d made on her breasts. He slowly pressed his whole face to her, and, although—and she didn’t know how she was certain about this—he was trying very hard not to make her come, only to take nourishment. She had come on his face, even though it hurt. He purred, delighted, before he apologized. He used his hands to scoop the cream from her. It was too little stimulation to make her orgasm.

She drained half the water off, and looked down at her body. There was a cut on the inside of each breast, mirroring each other.

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