Mistress of Souls, page 9
“That all sounds verra professional. Ye must do this for a living, aye?” he jokes.
Rolling my eyes, I continue. “Now say, ‘Yes, Mistress’.”
Hunter battles to keep his face blank, his cheeks twitching from the effort of holding back a scowl or a smile.
“Must I?”
A grin creeps into my features. “Of course. It’ll help you learn that I’m now the master of you, Pup. I’ll make you say it over and over again until your tail wags every time you say it. It’s one of my rules, and without your approval of it, this won’t work.”
He gave a huff, his cheeks darkening as he looked to the side again. “Fine, Mistress.”
“Good boy,” I croon, slipping my tail from his waist and trailing it down to his ass in a featherlight caress.
I shift my tail into a paddle and smack him hard on the ass, enjoying his groan and his scent intensifying with arousal. The pine, coffee, and wood smoke smell deepening and stroking my senses.
I’ve put so much of my blood and determination into my business, no one, aside from Tiffany, understands the lengths I go to.
I’ve been in the human realm for over two centuries and I’ve never allowed my feelings to control my business decisions.
Allowing Hunter to sub for me is a big risk, one I would not normally take.
And yet, I cannot deny his allure.
I just hope this doesn’t blow up in my face.
Chapter 10
Mariax
1 Year later
My dreams still haunt me. I know they are dreams, I know they aren’t happening now, but I cannot escape them once they latch on. They must play out it seems. The current one playing out in my mind is just the latest of the reel that loops when I close my eyes.
The skin is peeled from my flesh in strips exactly one inch wide. Manic laughter sounds around me, blending with a wet, tearing sound. Fuck, is that my skin? I’m not sure how much skin I have left at this point. It feels like my stupid djinn has been at it for hours, possibly even days. He is especially meticulous when it comes to flaying. The extreme heat of Inferuna only makes it worse.
I feel my body wanting to commence rotting, but I am still alive. Alive by pure will, demon regeneration, and this putrid-tasting concoction of what the higher-ups call Vitasmooth, ‘it’s got everything the body needs’. Fuck that shit. It’s probably half arsenic, not that it would hurt me, but it would account for the taste.
I’ve lost count of how many times we have replayed this scene in my dreams.
Sometimes it’s me on the gurney, and sometimes it’s him, my torture buddy. However, this version is not how it usually is. Yes, he is still splattered in my blood and bits of skin, but there is a presence behind his eyes that is unfiltered evil. The male I knew was aware this was his job training and not to take too much pleasure in the task at hand, and yet his sadistic smile said he was loving it.
I long learned that my djinn was insane, but it was always his promises that he’d make everything up to me later that had me melting for him when I finally got my reward.
We have been taking turns peeling and flaying skin on each other for nearly a year. It is truly an art knowing just how taut to pull the skin without it ripping. By the end of the assigned task, there is a neat tray filled with one-inch strips of skin.
I force my head to lift a fraction to look down, my body screaming in agony at the tiniest movements. The light pink of my skin has been removed from nearly everywhere I can see. The only skin I have left is on my feet. I cry out in agony as I drop my head back down. I am sure I look like a pile of exposed muscles with hair attached to the top. He always leaves my scalp for last.
He hates to see my pink mane leave my skull.
He leans over the table, his harsh breath whispering across my exposed muscles. “Oh Mariax, it has been a long session, hasn’t it? I could use a break.” He picks up a bottle of Vitasmooth and chugs it like a strawberry milkshake. “Ahh, yes, that hits the spot. Would you like some?”
Before I manage more than a strangled groan, he pours the drink over my face. Yellow smoke wafts upward from my skin as I shake and drown on the table.
What is this? Is he seriously going to drown me in Vitasmooth? Suddenly a cloth is scrubbed harshly across my fleshless face.
I inhale my first breath after minutes, letting out a constant scream, my body convulsing on the metal table.
My eyes flash open, but I’m unable to take in the room around me. Sweat glistens across my brow, a bead making its way down my temple and into my hair. I attempt to raise my hand to push my hair away from my face, but my body refuses to comply. I’m trapped within my body. My mind spins out of control as fear clogs my throat.
Sweat has pooled beneath me during the intensity of my nightmare and the subsequent panic, but I can’t shake the feeling that I am lying in a cooling puddle of blood. The icy temperature of the blade of the ulu ghosts against my back causing my muscles to seize. He bragged the first time he showed it to me he got it off some people on Earth that used it for skinning animals. I will my limbs to move, only my eyes willing to comply as paralysis takes full control.
Adrenaline spikes in my veins as pure terror claws at my heart with serrated blades. I can’t move. I can’t fucking move. No, no, no, no! The flawed organ in my chest will likely rip through my ribcage at any moment.
Blood pounds in my ears, blocking out all sounds. My vision swims before me, turning the ceiling above into turbulent waves.
As I think the panic will finally drown me in its dark depths, my tail twitches beneath me. With the movement, a little clarity comes back to my mind.
None of this is real. None of this is real. You got out. I am the mistress of my own life.
No one can control me anymore without my permission.
I force deep breaths into my lungs, expanding them to the point of pain, before releasing my breath. Oxygen surges through my blood and to my heart, slowly helping to decrease its rapid rhythm. My body slowly is coming back to me. My tail twitches beneath me, my hands curl into fists before I release them. I don’t feel the soft bedding beneath me, only the slick, unforgiving metal of the torture table.
Movement is granted to my body as if something pushed a hand into my chest and jerked my body back to life.
I roll out of bed and land in a crouch on the floor. My motion detector night light comes on, but it’s not enough to chase away all the shadows. It only illuminates a cold light from between the bed and side table.
My tail turns into a dagger, arching above me as I seek the looming threat.
Shadows creep across the floor. The trees on the street outside cast ghoulish shapes through the windows by my bed. They writhe and dance across the carpet.
I realize my right hand is slipping from underneath me, and I’m losing my grip as I fall to one knee.
My heart rate keeps steady, but it is still much too fast. My breath is coming out in pants as I warily track every shadow in the room, knowing that a threat draws nearer.
I still don’t know what the threat is, but I know that something has me in its hold, something stronger than my mind is capable of creating all on its own. I slowly stand, careful not to make any noise. Clothed in only an old threadbare t-shirt, it’s so thin the darkened peaks of my areolas are visible in the stripe of the night light.
Something heavy hits the floor in the kitchen. I twist my head violently to the left as dread coils deep within my gut.
Icy fingers slowly trace down my vertebrae again.
Keeping to the shadows, I crouch walk, using my hands on the ground to hold myself from falling into a crawl towards the sound. I probably look insane going through my own house like this, but only idiots in the immortal world don’t take their paranoia as a serious indicator of danger.
I slowly stand from behind the short end of the kitchen island, eyeing the cracked hardwood floor beneath the toppled mortar and pestle. But then my gaze is grabbed by an unusual sight.
Every single one cabinet in the kitchen has its doors flung open. Fuck me running.
I make it a point to close cabinets after each use. Leaving cabinets open was one of His terrible habits. The daily frustration of having to practically breathe down his neck and nag him to close cabinets made a deep groove in my mind.
Panic still clouds my vision, refusing to release its grip. The nightmare is continuing.
My instincts take hold of my body when knocking sounds from the door. I growl in response, low and deep. Dashing into the nearest shadow, I press myself into the wall and my tail curves in front of me, blades thrashing with irritation.
Who the hells is at my door? I listen intently, trying desperately to hear past my thudding heart.
“Mistress?”
The doorknob twists, creating a slight rattle as a key is inserted into the locking mechanism.
I slide further around the next corner and behind the bookcase. I can still see the entrance to my suite through a gap between the bookcase and the wall. Light streams from the hallway as a silhouetted figure creeps into my suite and closes the door.
A wicked smile graces my lips as I growl loud enough that they hear their imminent death resound in their eardrums. The voice that called to me earlier sounded familiar, but they should know better. Everyone knows no one comes into my space uninvited… or your death warrant is signed.
Something whacks painfully against both of my ears, awakening my awareness and halting me from granting death’s wishes.
Suddenly, I realize I’m staring down into wide blue eyes, pupils dilated with fear. My tail wrapped itself around their neck so tightly that no breath can escape. I hadn’t even realized I’d moved.
As if the skin suddenly caught fire, I release my hold, and they drop to the ground. Lauren suddenly coughs and hacks as she breathes, the sudden intake of oxygen surprising her body. She rolls onto all fours, her wings rumpled from being pinned to the ground, and turns her gaze up, glaring at me, tears rimming her fearful eyes.
“Mistress…” Lauren says, but her eyes soften as she takes me in.
“I don’t need your fucking pity. I told you never to come into my space without express permission. I gave you access for emergencies only,” I snap at her, leveling her with borderline hatred at seeing me so weak.
“I heard you screaming…I know you get nightmares; I could hear you from my room. You were so loud.”
“If you knew it was a nightmare, then you shouldn’t have come.”
“I didn’t know if you were actually in trouble, though. I had to make sure you were okay. Fuck the consequences. You’re my mistress, and it’s my duty to be sure that you are safe,” she sobs, tears of frustration sliding down her red cheeks.
She’s crying. Not because of what I did to her, but for the pain she knows I harbor. My fists clench, hating the sympathy in her eyes.
I forcefully rein in my anger, softening my features. It’s only because she cares. “Fine. Thank you. Now please leave.”
“But Mistress, I ca—”
I cut her off before she could protest further. “Leave now. I’ll talk to you later. I can’t… I don’t want to dissect my emotions with you right now.”
“Mistress,” she begs, and my anger flares. She needs to leave before I do something I will regret.
“You’re my submissive and your master has given you an order. So, get the fuck out before I tie you down and whip you until your screams make your ears bleed.”
She gulps and says quietly, “yes, Mistress.”
She practically runs out of the door.
Breathing a deep sigh of relief and loss at the presence of another, I run a hand through my hair. My fingers get tangled in the sweat-dampened strands. I flinch from the slight pain in my scalp, only to be reminded again of him laughing maniacally.
Always saving the scalp for last.
I close my eyes as tight as I can until I see bursts of light shine like fireworks behind my eyelids. I remind myself that I got out.
I open my eyes on the next exhale, internally berating myself for the bullshit I allowed myself to go through. Why do I let the terror of my past control my present? They don’t control me anymore. However, that doesn’t stop me from being a prisoner in my mind.
I want nothing more than to obliterate these memories from my mind. Anytime I have a dream, whether he makes me bleed or consumes my body with pleasure, mixed emotions flood my system for days.
I fought hard. I’m losing the never-ending eternal war of admitting my true feelings for Him. A millennia was spent with him worshiping my body, torturing me with pleasure and pain.
Tears fill my eyes as the sudden loss strikes. I feel hollow. Empty. No purpose. No affection. No…love.
A searing pang of regret simmers in the back of my mind as I think of how I treated Lauren. I always go on the defensive when I’m overwhelmed, especially after a nightmare. I didn’t mean to lash out at her. For fuck’s sake, I almost killed her, and then I promptly ordered her from my presence. I didn’t even ask her if she was alright.
What is wrong with me? I probably should remove her access code, but if there is an actual emergency… I don’t know what to do anymore.
In the living room, I curl up in my snuggly circle chair. The soft fabric cocooning my body in an embrace. I pull a blanket over myself as I stare at the wall across from me. The trauma of my time in Inferuna replays on a clear, vivid, and brutal loop. My mind seeks an escape from the pain.
I always come back to Him for safety and comfort.
Why? Why do I still want him? Why do I need him?
He’s still in Inferuna, where I left him. I’m sure he’s moved on. He’s lived for eons longer than me, so he has plenty of other creatures to think about than me. I thought he was my everything. I let him in. He became my daddy, dominating every aspect of my life within the bedroom and some out of it. I loved being his little one and pleasing him. The praise that would slip from his lips was a balm to my battered soul.
I wish he were as heartless as he pretended to be. I would be better off now. But he was never cruel to me. Although he never gave a fuck about anyone else. In fact, he openly threatened to destroy realms if it meant he could keep me, his Angel.
He was the only one who was allowed to call me that.
Tears cascade down my face as the dam breaks, finally faltering under the intensity of my emotions. Wracking sobs shake my body as I struggle to breathe.
I miss the feel of his body against mine. The warmth of his touch as his large palms cupped my breasts. Waking up to him between my thighs, eating my greedy cunt.
I touch my fingertips to my lips, remembering how silky the head of his cock was as it slid deep into my throat. The indescribable flavor of his release makes my mouth water, and my fingers shake. Arousal slowly begins its patient burn, eating up the lonely desolation I feel.
My trembling fingers glide down the column on my throat, pausing briefly to wrap my hand around the base. The ghost of his hand covers mine. The memory of him controlling my breath as he fucked me. If what he said is true, if he meant it—
I shriek loudly and fist my hair tightly with both hands as I stand, anger and loss swirling deep in my gut. If he loved me, he would never have done that to my best friend. He would not have hurt her.
If I ever see him again, I may just torture him for the vice-like grip he still has on my life—the hold his ghost refuses to relinquish.
But first, I will get an explanation.
The absolute gory display he put on caused me to flee, covered in blood. Without speaking a word, standing up for myself, or demanding answers, I ran like a pussy. Emotions are weaknesses, slowly causing atrophy until power is nothing but an illusion.
I stand at the foot of my bed. The potent mixture of grief and arousal is too much to handle. At least the latter emotion I can somewhat control. I can alleviate the ache, but it’s never the same.
I haven’t come as strong as I did when I was with Him. He awakened numerous kinks within me: age play, BDSM, bondage, breath play, hand necklaces, anal, blending pleasure with pain… you name it, we tried it.
He taught me how to command and be commanded.
Shoving my satin nightgown over my chest and down my body, I bare my tits and glistening pussy. Shadows from the soft glow of the lamp on my nightstand writhe across my skin in a sensual dance. My tail caresses my hip and slides up my torso until it reaches my right breast. I pleasure my nipples slowly, flicking the blade over them and taking turns with each of them. Smooth yet biting, causing me to draw in a sharp intake of breath.
I cup my other breast in my palm, needing the tender flesh and feeling the heavy weight of it as my nipple pebbles. The peaks harden and throb. My tail shifts into a short blade, leaving a thin trail of blood as it lightly slides down my sternum to my pubic bone.
It cuts through the neatly trimmed patch above my cunt before it shifts into a replica of a monster cock I read about in one of my dark romances. Hard ridges run along the top horizontally, and bumps line the underside. At the base, there is a large knot, not yet swollen.
Closing my eyes, I soak in the pleasure thrumming throughout my body. I feel almost high with the knowledge that I command my body and grant it release.
In the year I’ve known Hunter we haven’t had sex, it’s not that I don’t want to, but I am trying my best to be a professional. However, the temptation to grab his fat pierced cock and ride is intense and growing by the day.
My teeth sink into my lip as I slide my tail further into my pussy. I rub slow, light circles on my clit, just enough pressure that the telltale inferno has begun to build in my core. Right now, it is just embers, stoking the need in me higher and higher. I moan and curse under my tail’s administration.
In my mind’s eye, I see Him fucking me, pounding into me as his potent power coats my skin. I aggressively shove the monster cock into my pussy, aiding my body in the torturous climb and meeting its demands. My tail continues, thrusting deeper and deeper with every stroke. The ridges on the top of the dildo rub on my g-spot, making me scream as I near my climax.
