The Volatile Bearer (Prince/Story)

[Story]

It starts off like a song stuck in your head, a kind of mental memory reflex of trying to remember the words to something you’ve heard a few times on the radio; it’s catchy, it has your attention, but you’re not yet to the point of being able to sing along to the tune. So instead, it’s a cluster of lyrics, of song beats dancing around in your head, overcrowding any other train of thought. That was what it was like to do magic. Remembering something you could grasp ahold of in the first place, until all you have is an echo in your mind as to what it was supposed to be.

And the rest of the world still insisted that magic didn’t exist. Probably because they were all tone deaf, with the exception of that low percent of the population that was either in - like some sort of fucking exclusive club - or they were out, living out their lives in ignorance and watching Twilight while curled up on their couch stroking their dog or cat, fantasizing about the reality of glitter-tastic vampires coming to whisk them off their feet and spend happily ever after with something that is, seriously, technically dead.

Vampires are monsters, people. They really aren’t natural. They’re like a disease. Why would you want to have sex with something that is dead? And please don’t use the excuse that it’s not technically dead, just undead, through magical means. I mean, they write romance novels about this stuff and think it’s sexy to have a monster rip into your throat.

For someone like Mia Omicidio, who had lived her entire life on the fringes of the supernatural and the mundane, with the catch of magic’s tune forever beating a drum in her head, the monsters just weren’t quite as appealing as pop culture made them out to be. It was why she did what she did now, in a way, working with the monsters that went bump in that night -- because, kids, the bogeyman is real, there are several of them, you cannot see them unless they want you to -- only she had always been able to see everything that scurried across her floor or peeked around from the dark crevices of her closet.

You were born by unnatural means.

The words were from both of her parents, spoken behind a mask of trepidation as they scoured her for any further flaws other than the genetic anomaly of a violet-lit stare. Did that mean she was considered an Indigo child? I mean, who has purple eyes unless you were some Khaleesi out of a fantasy novel. But Mia was not Targaryen dragon rider, probably, but the Sight had been with her since she could form memories and the witchfire that made up her iris burned brightly until she was older still, old enough to know what it meant, and older still until she could shut it off. Nowadays she only took peeks at the world underneath what was right in front of her if she had to.

You know the saying: beauty is in the eye of the beholder; beauty is only skin deep; you are a beautiful monster. ...Something like that. Well, it’s true. Hideous tends to hide its real skin under something that you want to fuck out of a porno. Or at least made of something found written in the pages of a steamy supernatural romance. At least -- some of them did.


It was why Mia found herself inside some strange man’s hotel room, sixth floor, room 623, with a window view of the city’s glittering lights and Shy Town’s shores of Lake Michigan. He had gone modest, but they still didn’t know exactly what he was in town for, except maybe to accrue points with Hilton Enterprise and pick off the agents that worked closely with the Syndicate. Or just a part of it. Pace, who had put her up to it, was one of the head honchos of the entire gig and had taken a special amount of attention toward this mysterious someone who had been hunting them down in the city -- and only those who had worked closely on one particular case from when she had still been a child. It was why it was her in that hotel room instead of anyone else.

See, Mia’s father had been a part of the travesty that had occurred back then, ripping the Syndicate itself asunder and making himself hunted by not only their agents, but by outside baddies. It was no longer that the man was allegedly dead, forgotten in the dust of his mischief making. Though knowing her father -- without a body as proof, she wondered if the man had truly died or if he had stranded himself on a desert island of his own making, grew out his beard, and was now living like a hobo in a beach shack somewhere. Not that he had been much of a father figure to her. After all, her earliest memories of the man involved a monthly visit from a near stranger who poked her arm with a needle while wearing a look of consternation and worry as he did it.

Mommy and daddy hadn’t gotten along very well back then. They never had -- not as far as she knew. But she gave James, Gideon -- her dad -- credit where it was due: he pushed her into the direction she was going now and established the groundwork of the tenacious control she now had over herself and her own abilities. Though now all Mia was left with was burnt rubber on asphalt, a rumor that he was dead, and a mother who was batshit crazy and locked away with her mutterings.

Are you in?

Her phone buzzed in the clutch purse that dangled over her shoulder. Reaching in with a pair of manicured fingers, she plucked the device free and stared down at the screen that lit up with the message. Glancing up at the empty room, still dark except for the light from the city, she moved over to where the overnight bag had been situated at the foot of the bed before she unlocked the device with the swipe of her finger and messaged Pace back.

Yeah, in as I can get. You sure this is the right room? It’s pretty business standard. Just a couple pairs of boxer briefs, toiletries, some socks -- there’s a couple shirts hanging in the closet. Just seems like I’m an actual whore waiting for some bored business guy to come back from a client dinner, Pace.

She had to wait a few minutes for her next reply. Impatiently, Mia shifted her feet inside the pair of dark heels. Not quite stilettos; she wasn’t quite going there in case she had to make a quick get away, but high enough that that everything below the hem of her dress was accentuated. Plus she could always use them as a weapon in a beat. Ever been hit with blunt force trauma via a heel? It’s not pretty, especially if you get them in a soft spot. Finally, the phone vibrated again, lighting up.

It’s the right room, baby girl.

That's it? She rolled her eyes in the dark even though there was no one there to see.

Can’t I just ward this place and ditch? Do I actually have to make physical contact with this fucker?

He was quicker to respond this time around, but it still made her scowl as a smiling emoji popped up on her phone’s screen. Exasperated, she plopped down on the edge of the bed so that the springs were jostled underneath her weight. Letting the heels dangle from her bare toes, she stretched out her legs and stared at the bare stretch of skin, blew the fine lock of tawny-and-gold from where it caressed against her cheek. She smelled like too much perfume and one glance up at the mirror revealed a smokey-eyed minx with painted cherry lips. And, no doubt, too much makeup just to give her that overdone look. She had even penciled in her brows so that the striking look really popped.


How else are you going to get his blood?
He’ll notice if you leave a ward. Use those acting skills, kid.

Non-existent acting skills. It was Pace’s idea that she show up like this: the unannounced escort that had shown up in the wrong room. If he didn’t suspect anything was afoul just from her presence, Mia was expected to fumble through some sort of flirtation. Enough to prick him, gather a few drops of blood, and get out of there with her DNA sample. Somehow, she didn’t think that this plotline was going to go over too well at all. Though she did glance down at her phone one more time to see the latest of his texts.

Are you wearing the contacts?

Yes.

No. She wasn’t. She hadn’t been able to stick her eye enough times for the blue tinted contacts, so she was relying on the dark to hide the violet iris of her stare. Speaking of, she met her own gaze in the mirror across from her. Twisting up her face, she scowled at the image reflected back at her, then scrunched it up, wrinkled her nose, furrowed her brow, until at last she stuck her tongue out.

Only to hustle off the edge of the bed as the lock clicked on the door. Suddenly, her heart was beating frantically. Without responding to the newest message from her mentor, and, she supposed -- ally of sorts -- she shoved the phone back in her clutch and hastened over to the lamp, flicking it on so that it filled the room with its soft ambience. Without knowing what to do with herself after that, she shuffled over to the window and popped her hip as she struck a dramatic post -- as if she were both bored and anticipating. She even tried to push out her lower lip in an expectant pout as she shifted her attention from where she had allegedly been gazing out the window in wait for her client to organically watch him enter the room.

No doubt she looked just as foolish as she felt doing it.

Just a drop of blood. Right. She might as well just stab him with her heel and run after all.

@Dark Prince

 

[Dark Prince]

Griffin didn’t believe in coincidences for the same reason he didn't believe in fairy tales. The kind of people who believed in one of those, usually believed in the other, and they were also the stupid fuckheads that liked happy endings.

Fairy tales weren't true in the pixie dust and glittery vampire sense, that is. The Brothers Grimm had a better take, the shit that actually existed was more like a dark nightmare than a children's story, and most of the time, really almost all the time, there was never a happy ending. And no one, no one normal that is, believed in the kinds of creatures Griff knew truly haunted the dark corners and spooky woods of the modern world. And the only reason Griff believed was because he was one of them.

"Sir, there is no smoking inside the hotel..."

The cigarette butt landed perfectly for his heel to crush without breaking stride. The front desk person sputtered, but Griff kept walking. His dark sunglasses, on even inside at night, made the three grown up frat boys waiting at the elevator, likely gearing up for a bachelor party, do a double-take. Some alcohol filled bravado made the largest of them, the classic bully now trying to rekindle his college days at thirty, make a snide remark about sharing the elevator with the Terminator.

Griff wasn't small himself and he turned to stare at the man, looking down at him. He opened his leather jacket a bit, just enough to show him the pistol tucked into an armpit holster, and then lowered his sunglasses slightly, just enough to let his dark red irises appear. His friends couldn't see what made their loudmouth buddy blanche and step back, but when the elevator chime rang, they all decided to let him take it alone.

Now coincidences were just like fairy tales in Griff's mind. The odds of something good happening, by chance, were so small in his experience that any coincidence was just the first part of a tale that always led to a bad ending. Especially in his line of work these days, which primarily involving killing... things... coincidences were never happy.

So when he opened the door to his hotel room and found a pretty girl done up like a whore posing inside, his first instinct wasn't what a happy fucking coincidence. First, he made sure she wasn't armed, at least visibly, then his eyes went to take in the rest of the room. It was dark, but that didn't bother him. His bag was by the bed still, apparently undisturbed, but he couldn't see into the bathroom, which did bother him, or the closet, or under the bed, but the rest was clear. He took a look down the hallway on both sides of him. Nothing.

He hesitated a second, evaluating his options. He could shut the door and leave, of course, or he could pull his gun, which was his natural instinct, or...

The girl was his object of attention now. She was pretty, despite her best attempts to crudely hide it with her makeup, and dressed like a mid-range escort. The clothes she wore hinted at a tempting body, skinny on top but with some pleasant curves down below. She looked a little nervous in his opinion, he could see her pulse beating in her throat, but she still had the bravado to give him a sexy, almost bored look that might have fooled another man. That could be because she was new to her game, or he was a new client, or, of course, something else. A hint of her perfume, cheap and strong enough to reach him across the room teased his nose.

Who was she, what was she, and why was she here?

Griff hated that he was curious, but figuring out the truth behind a coincidence like this might reveal something else, something much more helpful in his mission.

Besides, she was cute and looked fairly harmless.

"Well, hello there, babygirl," Griff said, giving her a hungry smile. He tried his best to look lecherous, like he was thinking with his dick and responding to her surprise appearance like a typical John might. "I'm pretty sure I have the right room, and I didn't order room service, so what do I owe this pleasant surprise to?"

 

[Story]

Excuse me, but Mia thought she looked like a high end escort, not a mid-range one, though the lingerie ensemble that she wore underneath the skimpy dress had come off of the Victoria Secret discount rack. The underwire of the push up bra was cutting into her under boob and she could have sworn it was cutting off her circulation. She would have grabbed her boobs and readjusted them in the cup if the click of the lock turning green to signify that he was back hadn’t alerted her to more immediate concerns.

Sure, maybe she had applied too much foundation and the smoky eye was a little over the top, but her lip was on point and so were her brows. And her hair had never been bigger with the amount of product that she’d had to put in it to get it to curl around her shoulders like it was. And did we mention that she had slapped on some fake lashes to give them that extra elongated look? Like a kid playing dress up, she might have overdone it on her first sting operation.

She looked at him when he entered the room, really looked at him. In the shadows of the dark room, the violet of her iris swirled round and round, pricking her pupil until it had retracted to almost nothing as she took in the flavor of what she was to get a blood sample from, and thinking it might just be easier than going through all that effort if she could just See what he was instead of relying on science and alchemy to determine that for them. For the time being, the Syndicate was only interested in information, hence why she hadn’t just stalked him into an alley and taken him out with something other than her exaggerated good looks and a can of whoop ass.

But then he was speaking to her and that caused her heart to fly up into her throat. Her lips parted, something of a stammer passing through them that wasn’t coherent enough to be real words, and she blinked pretty for him as a reason to focus away her true sight and look at him in the flesh he presented her with. Lackadaisical, she pushed herself forward with what she hoped was a seductive smile.

“Are you Mr. Fredericks? I was called and said that you could use a friend if you are…” The gimmick here was that she had the wrong room, since she and him both knew that he hadn’t ordered a call girl. “And you look like you could lose a little room service…” She pouted. Mentally, she rolled her eyes hard when she did, and again hoped that hadn’t translated on her face. The baby voice probably wasn’t as convincing as she was trying to make it to be, either, so she tried to drop her voice to more of a sultry whisper when she spoke again.

Her finger found his arm as she slunk around to his side. “I could stay here with you if you want instead, you’re cute…” He was, but she still cringed at her choice of words. Mia kept the smile frozen on her lips as her eyes searched up to his face, while her other hand drifted, twirling at the hem of the short dress, fingertips discreetly seeking the stiletto that she was keeping shoved between her garter and stockings so that she could prick him and get the hell out of there before she was in real trouble.

 

[Dark Prince]

Well, Griff's dick had always gotten him into more trouble than his brain and tonight he felt like it was going to do it again.

Truth be told, it had been a little while since he'd had any fun, and she looked like his type under the makeup and slutty clothes. Plus, the risk always made everything more of a thrill, and yes, he definitely knew this "coincidence" was a set-up, but he had a perverse, and hundred percent libido driven, desire to see how far he could take things with the girl before whatever trap she represented was sprung. And if she was the trap, well, if he wasn't dead then she'd be a sweet reward to enjoy afterwards anyway.

So, he walked inside the room, the door clicking shut securely behind him, while his brain screamed at him to go. He was in the danger zone, somewhere between rational thought and that other state, the one he didn't like to be in but always bailed him out of trouble when he needed it, just with a lot of collateral damage in doing so. Everything seemed sharper now, smells, sounds, shadows, even the scrape of his boots on the cheap, worn carpet by the doorway felt... gritty. He used his new vantage, back to a wall still, to try to get a better angle into the bathroom and look for any shadows in the gap under the closet door.

She was moving, closing the distance faster than he'd liked her to do, but he kept a dumb smile on his face and even lifted his eyebrows in delight as she started her little lost hooker spiel. She wasn't the best actress, but neither were mid-range escorts, so he still wasn't sure if she was a hired whore, a distraction for the main threat, or something else.

"Mr. Fredericks?" he growled out. "That name does sound familiar. And I am feeling a bit lonely tonight."

Then she was too close to him, hand reaching out to touch his arm as she tried to distract him with every other part of her body at once. Somehow he ignored tumbling into the deep valley of cleavage she presented to him with that causal lean forward. The smell of cheap perfume hit him like a freight train about the same time that her purple eyes processed in his brain.

Purple eyes? The fuck...

The bad guy appeared in his head. Once again it felt like he was watching a horror movie, with Griff helplessly screaming at the asshole on screen who was using his body to do the bad thing, the violent thing, but often the only thing that could be done. Sometimes it was something his rationale brain hadn't even realized was needed to be done. Was it her free hand, twirling by her dress that set him off? The hem was distractingly short, but just long enough to conceal her panties and something similarly small...

Or was it the purple eyes that clearly didn't belong to a normal human girl?

Either way, he was quick as a snake when he grabbed her wrist with a hard, painful squeeze. Her jerked her arm up to lift her off balance, then spun her around him into the wall at his back, while he bodied her up from behind and used his mass to pin her face first against the wallpapered surface. The held wrist was clamped high above her head, and he felt her ass rubbing against his crotch as he pressed her still. His other hand was at her thigh before she knew what had happened, going under the hem of her dress and meeting her fingers as she reached for something tucked away. He pinned her hand on top of the object, probably a knife he guessed based on the size.

"Uh, oh," he whispered in her ear. "You don't want to do that, babygirl. I've got a gun and you've got a knife. How about you lift your hand up and place it on the wall next to the other one. Then we can play for real. Don't worry, I just want to have a good time, and can pay you double."

Just for good measure, the asshole part of Griff gave the girl's ear a teasing lick. That wasn't an act, he was truly horny now.

Well, time to see if she was really a whore, with a knife just for protection, or something else that he'd have to deal with.

Money always worked with whores.

 

[Story]

An entire mood.

She could have lip synced his whispered words against her ear. Maybe she did, he wouldn’t know, she had her cheek pushed up good against the hotel’s wall hard enough that she could hear the occupant next door snoring through the wall. It was one of the reasons that she wasn’t nervous. Yet. Not yet.

He wasn’t the first predator she had gone toe to toe with, only this was the first time she had put on something slinky and uncomfortable, with a questionable pair of shoes that hit into her heels and toes, even as she wiggled up against him enough that she could lift one, then the other, out of the pair so that she could stand flat footed on the carpet in a pair of thigh high stockings.

He was also heavy -- she would give him that. From the moment his chest had crushed her own against the wall and stole the breath from her lungs, kick starting the adrenaline rush that had been waiting just underneath the surface that whole time until her pulse was thudding just underneath the surface, rapid fire, right along with the crinkle of pain that had her flexing her fingers right above her head until she rested her palm like the rest of her flat against the wall.

They were moving, her fingers. Like she was counting.

But let’s not discount the way the muscles in her back bunched up, her shoulders moving back as if that were going to somehow deter him from where his hand went, trapping the one of hers that was reaching for her sad weapon.

Closing her eyes, she stopped her fingers from wrapping fully around it, breathed in deep, then startled when his tongue flicked across the shell of her ear. The fingers on the wall curled, then flattened again as she gritted her teeth and warred with herself as to whether or not she wanted to blow herself up now or if she could go through with this.

Fuck you, Pace. Eat a bag of dicks.

Then again, she had volunteered instead of letting an actual agent go. Her own stubbornness burned in her stomach and with a forced smile on her lipsticked mouth, she let her hand creep up from just under the hem of her dress to join the first one against the wall. If she fucked it up, he got away, and she would have failed anyway.

Or she could blow him up.

Instead, she spoke sweetly, “You aren’t Mr. Fredericks. You like to play rough?”

With her body tensed up like a coiled snake ready to strike from underneath him, it took every ounce of willpower that she had not to at least step on his foot, though her first instinct was to smash the back of her head against his face and see if that broke his nose.

“Why don’t you, uh, let me go a little and we can move this to the bed? Don’t want to scare your neighbors,” she offered, not even bothering with a suggestive drop to her voice.

 

[Dark Prince]

Griff's bad side was enjoying this a bit too much, while his rationale brain tried and failed to get him to stop. It was too risky, this handsy attempt to find out who the girl truly was and get some kicks out of it at the same time. The right thing to do would be to back, off, pull the gun, and threaten to blow her brains out from a safe distance while she talked. That's what he should have done, at least, but right now the feeling of her body against his own was just too delicious a thrill to give up.

He was bigger, stronger, and faster, especially with the horny guy in charge, and those squirming motions as she tried to see just how securely he had her pinned against the wall only served to rub her surprisingly sweet ass against him. For a skinny girl, she had a great booty and Griff naturally used his own crotch to grind back against her and let her know she wasn't going to be backing out of her predicament.

Griff felt her tense as he held her hand over the tiny knife. She was a smart girl, and maybe even a very clever girl if she was faking yielding to him, but he felt her body relax and soften against him as her hand slid up to rest on the wall next to the one he still held pinned. His own hand was quite large, and he adjusted his grip to hold both her wrists together tightly above her head. His free hand slid the tiny stiletto out, the kife almost comically small, and he wondered what exactly she thought that oversized needle was going to do against him.

He flicked the knife at the wall to his right and grinned as it buried in blade first with a satisfying thunk. It turned out that sometimes he did have lucky coincidences, as he hadn't meant to try to stick it in the way, but it sure made it look to the girl like he knew his way around a knife.

“You aren’t Mr. Fredericks. You like to play rough?”

"Only if I have to, babygirl," Griff murmured back. He felt her tense under him again, and wondered what she was thinking of doing. Perhaps he was scaring her? He made sure his grip on her wrists was extra tight. "Don't make me get rough."

“Why don’t you, uh, let me go a little and we can move this to the bed? Don’t want to scare your neighbors."

"Well that sounds like a plan, but first, let me make sure you don't have any other surprises," Griff replied.

The hand returned to her thigh and slid up the side of her dress, It was going to be a very thorough search of her body, as if she'd hidden that little blade, who knew what else she might have tucked away in more hard to reach nooks and crannies.

"I think you understand why I have to do this," soothed Griff, but the growing bulge in his black jeans that pressed against her ass hinted at other motivations.

Her breasts were first, and he slid his fingers up her dress and relaxed the pressure on her back enough to let his hand roam across her front. He took his time, examining the underwire of her bra and groping both of her breasts. He found her nipples through the cups of her bras, but that didn't seem to satisfy him, so he reached up with his fingers and tugged both of her bra cups down, letting her mounds pop out so he could pinch and tug her hardening nubs directly.

"I think I may pay you even more, what's your normal rate?" Griff said, his breathing heavier in her ear. The tongue was back, flicking against her lobe as he spoke.

Then the hand was moving, her breasts left hanging out lewdly, and he slid down the front of her dress before diving between her thighs. Two quick kicks of her feet spread her legs apart further, and the short hem of her dress was barely an obstacle before his palm was rubbing her mound through her panties.

"I haven't found anything yet, but I've got to make sure..."

Down here, in the heat of her sex, he took his time. He was searching for weapons, at least at first, but once he'd stoked her inner thighs and made sure nothing was stashed around her panty line, his fingers began to search for more interesting objects. They found the nub of her clit, rubbing it lightly, before they slid under the gusset and began to flutter and explore her folds.

"I'm going to have to search everywhere..."

 

[Story]

She couldn’t do this. She knew that she couldn’t do this. She had never been a big roleplayer and she had already let this little session with the demon go a little too far by letting him pin her up against the wall like this, wrists caught and back arched so that she felt the pull length of his erection between her ass cheeks. The little lacy things (and why had she bothered with them in the first place?) barely covered the cheeks of her bubble butt and he was sliding the hem of the dress precariously up to expose more skin. She wore the stockings, sheer and dark, as well as a garter that held the thigh highs in place, but after that there was just pale skin that his fingers snaked across.

For a skinny girl, she was also fairly fit. Call it running around chasing the things that went bump in the night. Her stomach tensed and pushed itself inward as his hand snaked further up and with a burst of cold dread, he had lifted the hem of her dress right up so that his hand could grab at her breasts, not that there was much for him to grab. The push up might have been a wonderful illusion, but Mia knew she was a part of the itty bitty titty committee with her set of Bs. Not that it stopped his wandering fingers from eliciting a sharp gasp from her as he dragged the bra down, pushing the pair out as well as up.

Two more sharp gasps and Mia was struggling against the clasp of his hands around her wrists as she tried to wiggle away, only to find herself wiggling back against his crotch again. The assault on her nipples jerked her head to the side, nostrils flaring as her body betrayed her. The little pink nubs hardened and strained, set to ache by the time he finished tugging them to their full potential, and left them both there to rasp against the fabric of her dress.

“Stahp,” she gasped, even though it was more of a pant. Her fingers started to wriggle again, tapping like she was counting again, only she couldn’t seem to concentrate on what she was doing with his hands wandering. “You aren’t my client,” the words tumbled out hard, but breathless. “Let me go,” she mewled around the lash of pleasure once his tongue flicked the lobe of her ear, making her lean away from the invasion.

Like a traitor, Mia was already damp when he palmed the mound of her sex over the panties she wore. Reflexively, she stiffened her thighs and tried to push her legs shut, but her natural strength was a piteous thing in comparison to what she was faced against. Brute strength was not something that she was going to be able to use -- but she had known that already going in; if her crude acting skills didn’t cut it, she was going to have to use magic, even though doing so would, at the very least, get her a tongue lashing from Pace.

Pace. Her phone.

She moaned before she could make a coherent thought around her guardian’s name, then cut herself off by clenching her jaw and jacking her hips back away from the fingers that stroked the top of her hood, parting her from over her panties, and stroking right where she ached the most.

And he knew already that he wasn’t going to find any weapons. He would find her wet, though, when his fingers slid under the line of her panties and touched her - skin to skin - making her jerk with the shock of it. Her clit pulsed eagerly and her abdomen coiled as fresh heat snaked right down to her core, enough to make her toes curl and startle her right into fresh awareness. He was going to take this all the way if she didn’t act now, and soon.

Her head craned back so that her face practically nuzzled against his neck, but those violet eyes were wide open and swirling as she searched what she could see of his face, “Count to ten with me,” she said, voice husky.

She already was.

One finger stroke against her folds, two to make her gasp again, three was enough to distract her, and yet the vague rap of her fingers against the wall began to build the spell. She had to close her eyes to focus enough for it. He would feel it splutter first, a kick off of something that hummed against her skin, before she had to start it over again.

NSFW

 

[Dark Prince]

"You really want me to stop?" Griff rasped back, his low voice rumbled in her ear as he licked it again. Her body was singing a different song, that was for sure. At some point she'd gone from struggling against him to writhing with him, and now even her protests sounded a bit weak. If she was a whore, she certainly wouldn't mind his aggressiveness, at least if he was going to pay, but if she wasn't, well... that thought made his cock, already pretty hard, stiffen fully in his jeans.

The sane part of Griff knew this was beyond the line, he might be sexually assaulting her for all he knew, but the asshole that was in charge of his body loved that idea even more. Besides, if she wasn't a whore, she was no innocent girl, in fact she was probably trying to kill him... directly or indirectly. She deserved every second of what he now was intending to do with her.

Then his hands found her pussy and any resolve he had left to tone things down melted against that hidden heat. He could feel it even through her panties, not that that tiny wisp of cloth offered much protection.

She was wet. So fucking wet.

If she wasn't a whore, she was either very committed to her act or enjoying this quite a bit more than she should. He could feel his fingers slosh in her folds when he slipped them inside her panties. She felt like liquid silk down there, hot and inviting, and it was as if his fingers were getting sucked into her instead of being pushed, like there was no friction to stop them and they just fell inside her, slipping deep into her core with a wet slurp.

"You want me to count you down... fine... One," Griff grunted, hand and palm working together insider her cunt and on her clit. "Two..."

He needed more. This wasn't enough.

"Keep your hands on the wall, don't make me use my gun," he barked the command with a sharp squeeze of her wrists to reinforce it. The fingers buried in her hungry cunt fluttered to give her another form of incentive, then resumed a slow and steady plunging. He let her hands go and reached down, tugging savagely at the bottom of her dress to flip it up over her hips. Her ass was as beautiful as he imagined, two full and round moons with her thong splitting the pale flesh. A quick, hard squeeze of one of those cheeks was all he could spare, before he reached back up and grasped her throat, his powerful fingers wrapping around her neck firmly.

"Three."

A strange tingle ran through him, like she was electric and had buzzed against him. The fuck? Was this some magic she had... maybe getting turned on made her glow or something. Griff was a bit too horny to care, and he knew in this state he was fairly tough.

"You like that, babygirl?" he murmured again, teeth nibbling her ear as the hand gripping her throat gave another squeeze. "I'm going to make you cum. FOUR!"

He slid his fingers out of her drenched hole, a lewd slurp following their exit, then kicked one of her feet out a little wider for even more access. He reached from behind now, curling his hand up and sliding into her easily with three fingers, while his thumb rubbed up the short distance to her pucker and began circling against that taboo hole in rhythm with his fingering of her sex.

"Five," he murmured this one, rubbing against her cheek with his face. "How much more does it cost for anal? Six."

He slid out of her, fingertips finding the throbbing, swollen nub of her clit and rubbing it in a tight, fast circle.

"Seven. You want to cum yet?" He whispered, tongue teasing her again. His grip on her throat tightened as he rubbed her clit even faster. He added, in that same low raspy whisper, "Who are you working for, babygirl? Who sent you here?"

 

[Story]

Mia didn’t like that she was so wet. She didn’t like that she was wet at all. That the fantasy she had half-assed devised around a hotel call girl and a stranger was becoming more alive than she wanted. Her face burned with her mistake, the shame making her lips tremble and her eyes blur as she tried to decide if her weak twists of her arms was more for show in comparison to the fact that her knees trembled and buckled as his fingers slid through her lust-slicked folds to probe deeper.

She had a pretty pussy. Shaved, but not naked; she was trimmed neat, but that wasn’t for him. That was only for her. In fact, Mia could count on one hand how many men had fingered her in her life and the wanton little mewl that escaped her lips wasn’t convincing her that she didn’t want to add him to the list. Not that he had made it much of a choice, anyhow.

She closed her eyes again like that would help her concentrate as she started back up her mental countdown and that weird tapping again since he hadn’t realized just yet what she was trying to do. The problem was -- she wasn’t sure she could cast off the spell with her fractured concentration and his hand in her panties. Though Mia also hadn’t anticipated that he would stroke her like that, intentionally like that, like this wasn’t a rape of some sort.

And that she would like it -- like that. Pushed up against the wall, eyes closed, dripping wet on his fingers with her hips writhing and her cunt grinding against him like the thing she had dressed up to be.

Because it did feel good. Really good.

She lost her count again, the build up of energy dissipating as fractured waves of pleasure had her moaning, low and needy. Her insides shuddered, her clit throbbed, practically begging to be touched by his indecency. The friction that she was dealing to herself with the erratic grind of her mound against the palm of his hand was only frustrating her that much more.

It took his hand around her throat to jerk her back into her usual mode. Her voice whined the words, shock twining with the plea. “I’m not a whore,” she insisted, then gasped as the air met her bare ass cheeks. “I’m not… I’m not really a whore,” she begged, but whether she was begging for his fingers or for release was hard to tell.

“Oh, fuck…” She ground out, palms pressing flat to the wall. Her hard swallow could be felt with the press of his hand around her throat that sent a new thrill of excitement, the adrenaline kind, shivering down her body. Her stiffened nipples tingled against the front of the dress and her pussy was busy slobbering all over the three fingers he jammed inside of her, stretching her out, filling the ache building between her legs good enough that her ass popped out and her back arched against the thrust of the digits. “Oh fuck…” she moaned, rocking back and forth on him, the tight pucker of her asshole clenching when his thumb wound around there. It tingled, that touch, and she instinctively shied away from it by tightening her ass cheeks.

“Fuck off,” she pleaded when he whispered in her ear, his teeth and tongue shuddering through her almost as well as the slide of his fingers against the sensitized, swollen pulse of her clit that had her jerking anew against his fingers. She felt the burn first, the overwhelming stimulus of his attention, felt herself automatically clench and shudder. Then that build up, angsty like a teenager, that made her whine like one too while she rocked and rubbed back and forth.

“I- I- I-” she stuttered, her clit fully aroused underneath his fingers, spinning any coherent train of thought right out of her current sphere of ability. Her legs were trembling underneath her and his hips and hand gripping her were the only things keeping her upright. She was going to cum, and soon, unless he stopped, and she didn’t even want him to.

NSFW

NSFW

 

[Dark Prince]

“I’m not a whore... I’m not… I’m not really a whore."

"Really?" Griff whispered back, his tongue teasing her ear again. "Because you sure seem like one to me."

Still, it was an interesting admission, one a real whore would never make. So she had been sent to his room for a reason, and in Griff's world of unhappy coincidences, it meant his instinct has been right. She was a threat, although right now, squirming in his hand and pinned against the wall, she didn't seem that threatening. She could be a decoy, or some form of distraction for the main attack, and if so she was doing quite a good job unfortunately. Griff was hard, and definitely not caring about anything but the hot cunt his fingers were plunging inside.

There was that tingle again.

Griff hated magic. He never understood it, and it always seemed to fuck up his best laid plans. But, he could kind of feel it, and she was definitely doing something. Well, he had some natural resistance to it, given his blood, and whatever she was doing didn't seem to affect him. Plus, maybe she was the kind of creature that oozed magic when she came or something, he'd run into that before and it had been quite fun, actually. It was probably his dick thinking for him again, but it seemed worth the risk to keep toying with her and roll the dice on what happened next.

And right now, it seemed like her cumming was what was going to happen next. He knew that familiar rocking, the girl's hips now moving on their own and her breath coming in pants. The little "Oh fucks" she was groaning out were almost unnecessary, as he felt her gripping him with her inside walls and her ass clenching against his thumb with a rhythmic urgency. He could sense a woman approaching the edge, and this girl was getting there quite fast.

“Fuck off."

She wasn't talking, or maybe she couldn't talk? Griff was still rubbing her clit, sensing that was the hot spot of white pleasure she was craving right now, the button to send her over the edge. Perhaps he should try to get her to give him some information, anything, before she came. Who knows what mood she might be in afterwards, but there was such a sweet need now in her tensing body, a desperate begging that matched her voice, and it felt cruel to deny her that relief.

He slid his hand on her neck down to her breasts, pulling them out of her dress and attacking her nipples. Tugging and twisting the rock hard pebbles they'd become, Griff worked them with a cruel attention, adding yet another spike of pleasure to her already over loaded body.

"Eight."

His teeth grabbed the lobe of her ear, tugging it, as he used his body to press her against the wall tighter, so her whole world became him embracing her from behind. His hands on her nipples, his fingers on her clit, and his thumb plunging into her wet cunt in rhythm to his strokes. He was moving with her too now, driving her against the wall in steady thrusts as he bucked his crotch into her ass, shaking her body as if he was fucking her.

"Nine."

She might be trying to kill him. That thought came back again as she squirmed closer to her release. This wasn't how he should handle a potential enemy, but it felt strangely... right?

He let her build to the edge, watching her breathing, her body's motions, and the tight grip of her cunt on his thumb. And then, just when he thought she was there, balanced precariously and ready to explode, just when her groans had reached a fever pitch and she was ready to scream out in blinding pleasure, he moved his hands away.

"Who are you?" he said in her ear, his palm giving her swollen nub a light tap to remind her of what he could offer. "Tell me your name at least, and I'll let you cum."

 

[Story]

Normal monsters didn’t act like this. Normal monsters liked to kill, hurt, maybe even eat. Maybe even rape. But even though Mia could feel the press of his cock against her naked asscheek, it was through the denim of his jeans. And even though she felt his palm against the pounding pulse in her throat, it held her in place rather than strangle her. That was all because she was struggling; not to get away, no. Not anymore. Her mind wasn’t capable of processing that right now, not with what his fingers were doing to her. She wasn’t even sure she would fight him if he did pull his cock out and…

The keening little whine that was her voice intensified, sounding alien even to her own ears when she felt the bodice of her dress tugged down and her breasts spill out, supported onto by the fabric underneath them. It pushed the pair out, made it easy for his fingers to pinch the little rosy peaks. She squirmed harder, her hips churning circles as she gasped and panted against the sensation that rolled straight from her clit through the rest of her. Or straight from her pinched and rolled nipples right down to her clit.

Her ass even rolled backwards, pressing eagerly against his throbbing cock trapped in his pants, her soaked nethers leaving a warm, wet spot on the front of his pants while she coated his fingers that stroked her clit. His thumb didn’t even have to do any work, really, as she was grinding down on his appendage just as hard as she was the rest of his hand as she sought a release from the build up he had created.

“Please…” she whimpered, tilting her head against the tug of his teeth on her earlobe that sent a fresh surge of desire trembling through her body. “This is… this is…” she panted out, fingers curling against the wall, the jerk and grind of her hips becoming both more erratic and deliberate as she felt her insides clench up, spasm.

Only for him to pull away before she could dive overboard and find relief. Her clit pulsed as his fingers pulled away, her insides aching. For the first time when he had started his wicked torture, Mia gasped out as if she realized that she could still breathe, her body trembling like it was trying to stay on a tight wire high up in the air, but wanting to take the plunge so bad.

“Who are you?” She countered right back, her voice forced and breathy, heady with lust. “What.. … an incubus..? Is that what..? Are you going to eat me when.. If…?” She closed her eyes, trying to find some sort of coherent thought. It made sense; she had seen that he was an infernal, or a demon, of some sort. The incubi fed off lust, which meant that he could have been trying to drain her try. Only Mia wasn’t feeling very drained -- she felt like she was a live wire, frustrated and alive. “T-tell me what you are and I’ll tell you who I am,” she countered, even though her lady parts hated her for the response. Her libido, at least, wanted him to make her cum. Badly.

NSFW

 

[Dark Prince]

Griff had made women beg before, and manhandled them plenty, but that had all been in good fun with consensual partners. Tonight was very different. The bad guy was in charge, that was his first excuse, and that demon half was definitely calling the shots. Yet the rational part of him had gone strangely quiet. Where was that often annoying conscience, telling him to stop whatever horrible thing he was doing?

Well, it was hard to feel guilty about touching her like this when she was apparently enjoying it so much, and besides, she still was a potential enemy. And as much as he was enjoying this himself, his cock felt like it would rip right out of his jeans, he'd decided that he was fingering this girl primarily to get information.

Good one, Griff. This is all just to get information... riiiiight.

Alright he was a horny fuck, and this girl was smoking hot with an ass that should be illegal on an otherwise skinny frame. Making her squirm like this, turning her into a horny mess of whimpers, whines, and desperate grinding against him, was fucking kinky as shit and he was loving it. More than loving it, it was a fantasy come true. Somewhere between pinning her to the wall in self-defense and then finger banging her, every hot and angry emotion he'd had, fear, suspicion, and rage, had all transformed into a different set of hot emotions, lust, passion and a desire to make this girl his bitch.

There, he admitted he was thinking with his dick now, but who could blame him. She was so horny herself that she was making a fucking wet spot on his jeans!

Then came her questions as her brain started to resume function. Griff liked her better horny and unable to think, so his fingers slipped back, two fingers curling into her wet hole while his middle finger glided over her clit. The other hand twisted a nipple, giving her a sharp jolt of pain to make the rush pleasure that followed even sweeter.

"Ladies first," he growled. His hand between her thighs moved in a blur, her juices spraying out as he fucked her hard, but only enough to get her tensing again. "I won't hurt you if you aren't going to hurt me. And don't worry... why would I want to hurt you when there are more fun things we can do."

Fingers out again, a quick tap on her throbbing clit, and he blew on her neck.

"Call me Griff the demon asshole," he said, teeth grazing her ear again while her other nipple got tugged. "Now... why are you here? Who's paying you if you aren't a whore?"

The fingers were back inside her, middle finger again fluttering on her button. The dirty little thumb was back again as well, this time pressing against her pucker as he pumped into her slow and steady, building her way too slowly as she teetered on the edge.

"Talk to me, babygirl. Talk to me, before I have to spank it out of you."

It was fun being an asshole, Griff had to admit.

 

[Story]

What are you doing? No, really, what are you doing? He’d stopped long enough to send a jolt of realization up to her melted synopses so that a flicker of awareness made her question the fact that she was pushed up against a hotel wall with a stranger’s fingers between her legs. It might have been hot in a porno, but the reality sent a thrill of fear running through her.

Only it was more fear, a throat clenching panic, of enjoying the finger fuck with her mark. Her thoughts reiterated the message that her brain was trying to convince her body of, You are letting a potential murderer touch you in the worst possible way and you’re liking it.

Mia would have liked to unpack this, blame some pent up daddy issues, but first she used her sudden jolt of panic to push back against him in a way that had nothing to do with the grinding that she had been doing earlier. Breath ragged and chest heaving, and with her pussy pulsing needily still as his fingers dipped again, wetting themselves anew with her arousal and slicking up against the nerve endings that lined her wall.

She clenched against his fingers, ashamed that her hips rolled greedily to meet their vicious thrusts, and probably even more ashamed that her thighs trembled and her legs grew weak along with the sharp moans that accompanied them, pitching as his fingers pinched her erect nipples that stood at attention above the scrunched up fabric of her dress.

For the first time, her hands slid away from the wall and lowered down to her squirming hips, pushing at the arm that belonged to the hand whose fingers tortured her sex, “Get off me,” she whined, her words slurred. “Get off me or I’ll kill you,” she wore, arching forward, which only caused another streak of agonizing pleasure to course through her when he played at her clit, stroking the on button of her pleasure center in a way that wanted to turn the rest of her brain off.

Would that make her an actual whore, if she just let him fuck her like this? Or just a slut?

“I’ll tell you if you stop,” she whimpered. What she really meant to say was, I’ll tell you if I cum. Because he had gotten her close, too close, too many times already, only to keep her panting and hot for more. Not to mention the addition of his thumb pushing against her asshole hard enough that the pucker was practically sucking the digit in. She should have been more panicked about that -- Mia hadn’t experienced anything to do with her ass -- than anything else he was doing to her tonight.

 

[Dark Prince]

“Get off me or I’ll kill you.”

Griff chuckled at her threat. Who the fuck knew with a purple eyed girl what kind of Ace was up her sleeve, but right now, with her squirming on his hand like a wanton slut, really worse than a whore as they were just acting, he didn't feel particularly concerned. The way he saw it, the worst that could happen would be his fingers might get crushed the way she was clenching him so tightly.

"What are you going to do? Drown me in your cum when I go down on you?" Griff whispered in her ear with a teasing dab of his long tongue. "Cause I think I need a taste, and I don't think you'd mind..."

“I’ll tell you if you stop.”

Now that was more like it, but Griff still had his doubts. Every time he let up with his fingers and her horny head cleared, she was uncooperative, and he doubted she'd change her heart now. No, he'd have to be a bit more hands on at this point, and the threat he'd given her earlier suddenly seemed like a good idea. Alright, his horny dick thought it was a good idea at least, but the other half of him, the boring guy, wasn't complaining anymore so that settled it.

Smack.

The hand on her breasts had pulled back and descended on her big round ass with a huge crack.

"Let's give you a real reason to talk!" Griff growled. Both hands were at her hips, and he spun her up and hoisted her onto his shoulder in a quick motion. She was light in his arms, surprisingly so, and as he carried her to the bed he paddled one of her cheeks with his free hand. "Looks like I'm going to have to spank the truth out of you."

Tossing her onto the bed, he jumped on after her, seizing her by an ankle and pulling her back as another hand grabbed a fistful of hair to freeze her for a second. A quick scoop under her waist, and she was across his lap, her pelvis rubbing against his hard cock as he jerked her hair to quiet her down, while his other hand darted between her thighs and began to tease her again.

"Easy, there... I've got a gun, remember that, and I don't have to be so nice," Griff barked at her, his voice a husky and deep. "Now, I'm going to spank you until you talk or cum, or both. I hope you aren't one of those dirty girls that likes being spanked, though, are you?"

Smack.

The hand between her thighs lifted to give her another hard spank that set one of her cheeks to jiggling. Those round globes were already mottled slightly from his earlier blows, turning a nice splotchy pink. His fingers went to the waist band of her thong and he gave it a savage tug down. The hand in her hair ran traffic control, trying to keep her from squirming too violently.

"Now... what is your name?"

 

[Story]

“When you…” Her imagination won this round, but she still had the decency to gasp as if she were offended and not turned on at the idea of having his mouth between her legs. Her insides clenched to think about it, reminding her more poignantly that his fingers were stroking her. What Mia wanted was to grind down harder on the digits, fuck his fingers like this was just some hot fantasy and not what it was.

The fact that she felt a wash of shame to remind her that she was being molested against a wall instead of having a love affair with this stranger and this was just a case of roleplaying. It was made worse by the fact that she could feel how wet she was by the dampness on her thighs and that a fresh coating of hot juices coated his fingers when his tongue on her ear translated straight to her crotch.

Mia wriggled, less of a fight than she was proud of, only to jerk and shout out in surprise when his hand left her aching nipple bare. Really, the slap on her ass sounded worse than it felt, though the cheek he had hit wiggled under the blow, turning red before fading quickly with the sting.

Then suddenly she was no longer pressed flat against the wall with his fingers up her pussy, but over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. A new rush of adrenaline coursed through her, even as air hit her bare bottom, the wet between her thighs. Her legs pumped, swinging back and then forward again as she tried to catch him with her knee. Mia made a sobbing sound of protest as he carried her the short distance from the wall to the bed, her hands pushing against his shoulder as she tried to use her physical strength (she didn’t have much, especially given the circumstance) to get free of his grasp.

“Who the fuck are you….oooooooooo?” She howled the last part as her body hit the mattress, already scrambling as if she could find purchase before she felt his hand in her hair. That made her stop abruptly as pain needled from her scalp and tightened the skin of her face. Tears pricked. Heart hammering, she pushed her legs closed as his fingers felt between her legs again and she felt his cock pressing into her lower abdomen. “Are you enjoying yourself, ass wipe?” She snarled, head yanking to one side, only to have her yelp as his fist tightened in the waves of hair.

Panting, she pressed her head down, if only to relieve the pain of him gripping her so tightly. It put her in an awkward position -- one that had her cheek pressed against the bed and her ass raised up in the air, ripe to take his abuse. Cheeks flaming, she flinched as she felt his palm crash down on her cheek. Her ass actually tried to retreat from the below as she scrunched herself up. But where was she going to go, really?

“Minerva Mcgonagall,” she hissed out finally, her stocking covered legs twitching as she tried to wiggle onto her side to keep him from spanking her again.

 

[Dark Prince]

This was one of those situations that was so wrong it felt right. There was a thin shred of justification in Griff's mind, she had worn a knife and clearly wasn't a whore, so someone had sent her to his room to do something, and likely that something was not good. Plus, she really seemed to be enjoying this, which made it a lot harder for Griff to stop. What he was doing wasn't so bad if he just conveniently ignored the guilty fact that his cock was harder than ever right now as she squirmed on his lap, and the dirty realization that fingering, and now spanking, this sexy stranger was probably about the hottest thing he'd done... maybe ever?

“Who the fuck are you….oooooooooo?”

"I'm your daddy now," Griff had grunted back while he got her into position.

“Are you enjoying yourself, ass wipe?”

"What do you think?" he replied, bucking his hips to make sure she could feel his cock rubbing against her belly. "Minerva, huh? Looks like we have a wise ass... all the more reason that you deserve this."

Smack.

Griff began to spank her, one hand gripping her hair to keep her from squirming off of him, the other alternating between hard slaps on her now rosy and jiggling ass cheeks, and teasing rubs into her dripping folds. He'd play spanked women before, but this was different, her futile struggle was real, the intensity of his blows ramped up a notch, and the heat and wetness coming from between her thighs was beyond turned on.

Smack.

"Did you come here to kill me?" he growled at her, a jerk of her hair showed his anger. "Tell me why you are here. I'm not a bad guy, considering you pulled a knife on me. I could be doing a lot worse to you than this..."

Smack.

"Who sent you? Do you work for... them?" he asked this question with less anger, his tone spiteful. "Convince me I can trust you enough to stop."

Smack.

He let her hair go and slid that hand down her back while his fingers between her legs settled in, circling her swollen clit as his thumb plunged into her wet hole. The hand going down her back diverted to glide over her mottled globes, they almost glowed pink now in the room's dim lighting and felt hot to his touch. Her round ass was so delicious and her stockinged legs twitched seductively below. Griff's own mood had changed as the act of spanking had drained the anger that had flared earlier. Now, he felt only lust and desire as he looked at her half-naked body.

He had to have her, and the idea of fucking that thick ass was beginning to consume his horny brain.

"Talk to me. Tell me everything, or I'll have to get a little more... convincing."

The hand rubbing her ass cheeks teased down her crack, rubbing lightly until his fingers were pressing down on her tight pucker. He circled it, feeling her tense and quiver under him as as his middle finger tested its strength. A bit of her own arousal served as lubricant, and began to work the slippery digit back in, pressing and twisting, until he pushed in past his first knuckle and could curl his finger beyond her ring. It felt satisfying, but he badly wanted his cock in there instead. He finger fucked her ass in frustration, while his other hand continued to work her cunt, thumb plunging in and fingers rubbing against her button.

She likely wasn't going to last, he knew that, but he suddenly wanted to make her cum. He craved to see what her face looked like, how her body reacted, and what she screamed when orgasming under his touch. His hands moved in steady rhythm, sliding in and out of her holes while rubbing her clit, the tempo increasing steadily as he worked her to the edge.

"You sure you aren't a whore?" he asked with a chuckle as his fingers sped up to give her a final burst of pleasure.

 

[Story]

“My daddy is an asshole too,” she sniped back at him as her face flinched and another sting of heat made the blood rush the color her ass cheek red. It was beyond humiliating. Her position kept her baked backside primed for his hand, while also exposing her sex to his further exploration with his fingers. The most humiliating part was that her insides clenched and ached, her clit throbbed in anticipation, every time he laid his hand on her bottom. It was an erotic perversion that had nothing to do with the ass beatings she had endured as a small child. And while Mia knew that she didn’t actually like her ass being struck, her body quivered when his hand intermittently dipped between her legs to stroke her.

“N..no,” she gasped out, finally, writhing away from the strike of his hand on her backside. Her eyes were blurred with tears, but less from the pain and more from the situation. “St-stop spanking me, just stop,” she whined, knees pulling up, then shooting back down again when she realized it gave him a better angle and more exposure of her exposed lower torso. She was already pinned by his hand clutched in her hair, and every time she jerked forward from his hard slap, her belly slid against his erection underneath her.

“I am a whore,” she pleaded, changing her tune when his spanking intensified, became even more distracting. “I am a whore, I’m here to distract you, please just stop,” she panted, her fingers scraping at the top of the bed as she tried to wiggle forward again. “I don’t know who they are.”

Her ass cheeks were radiating heat, throbbing with pain, sore from his hand. Mia was breathing hard, her voice taking on a desperate pitch. He had at least stopped with the spankings, but his fingers were trailing to a place she wasn’t sure she wanted him to go. Her cheeks clenched and she moaned, the tight pucker of her asshole tingling as his finger pressed and circled. It was something she hadn’t done before, the ass stuff. She stilled in horror when she felt him use her own wetness around the tight hole, then groaned again as she felt the finger start to sink inside her.

It hurt, kind of. It felt more like a resisting pressure, and then the sensation of his finger lodging inside her. Once he had pushed past that barrier of resistance that was more uncomfortable than anything, the rest of her ass grabbed at his finger like it was hungry, clenching around him tightly.

Mia gasped, afraid to do anything now. She stopped struggling, squirming, and just lay panting across his lap as she tried to decide how she really felt about this new invasion.

The other hand that found her wet and wanting distracted her and her pussy, at least, was happy to have the attention returned to it.

“Are you really…” The shuddering moan made her voice quaver. She shouldn’t have even asked. Her thoughts fled again under the assault of pleasure that he inflicted from his fingers. Mia rubbed her flaming cheek against the bed and moaned, a lewd, unbridled sound as she relaxed. Her thighs quivered, falling apart as she splayed them open so that his fingers had more access. Sticky arousal flooded over his fingers as her folds spread open, her engorged clit sliding against his hand as she rocked forward, humping his hand in time to the motions of his finger that still thrust into her ass, riding the crest of sensation.

He was right about the fact that, worked up as she had been during their bout, that she wasn’t going to last. And he was trying now, no longer edging her. She moaned again, her hips riding against his fingers turning erratic as she felt the tension build up more rapidly.

“Oh god… oh fuck…” she sobbed, her ass clenching around his curling finger right before her clit throbbed and released the pent up tension. Pleasure exploded through her core, pulsating and convulsing her inner walls. The sensation had her shuddering and curling, riding it out with rasping gasps, the orgasm bringing a wash of hot liquid across his hand as she came.

 

[Dark Prince]

“I am a whore, I’m here to distract you, please just stop... I don’t know who they are.”

Was she a whore? Was she not a whore? How innocent was she truly in this whole set-up?

Griff had a lot of questions swirling in his mind, but no answers convincing enough to make him stop what he was doing. He frankly wasn't sure what kind of confession she could even give him, at this point, that would make him stop spanking and fingering her. Even if she gave him names, and addresses, of the exact guys he wanted, would he fucking care right now?

She was so turned on that he doubted she was a whore. What if she hadn't planned on fucking him? Maybe she snuck in to plant something and he surprised her while she was trying to sneak out. The idea that she was a normal girl, still a minor agent of them, that was now squirming half-naked on his lap while he spanked her to orgasm was definitely hot to think about.

It was wrong, but it was so fucking hot.

"Distract me? Then... you are doing a fucking good job. What did they have planned tonight?"

Griff mumbled the question half-heartedly, as his mind was on other things. That sweet ass was calling and he couldn't help but think she seemed awfully tight as his finger worked inside her pucker. Her ring clenched him like a vise as he finger fucked it, and her body seemed to tense and quiver on his lap, those luscious globes jiggling and squeezing against his hand, almost holding in him. In fact, she was so tight that her ass seemed to grip him harder as his finger slipped in, as if hungrily trying to suck him deeper.

Was she an ass virgin? Griff's already hard cock seemed to swell even further at the thought. How could a girl with a rear as sexy and thick as this one not have had a dick inside it already? A new compulsion swept into his brain, one he knew would be much harder to pull off, but also seemed a goal worth risking everything for. There could be a team of killers in the hall right know, assembling to blast open his door and cut him down, but if he could just get his cock inside this girl's butt before then, he'd die a happy man.

But first, he had to get her fuck drunk and ready for more.

There was something satisfying about the way she melted once he touched her slit again, her body craving a release so desperately that she practically spread her thighs to welcome him back. He was trying to rub her clit as well as fuck her with his thumb, but she was more humping him by the end, her hips pounding against the hard cock straining in his jeans as she fucked both her holes on his digits. When she finally got there, and it was embarrassingly fast, it was a sobbing, howling, and very wet explosion that he could feel as she clenched around his finger and thumbs, then quivered through her waves of pleasure as he held her in his hands.

"There... that wasn't so bad was it. So what did they want you to do?"

Griff had a grin on his face, but was breathing quickly himself now. He couldn't remember being this turned on in a while, if ever, and knew he couldn't wait any longer to try to get some relief for himself.

She appeared to be in a post-orgasmic stupor, so he slurped his thumb out of her pussy and tugged his finger out of her ass. He stripped his jacket off, tossing it to the floor, then undid his shoulder holster, placing it on the bed for easy access. Next came his black t-shirt, which revealed a toned and muscled body that was almost completely covered in tattoos from his neck to his wrists. The color scheme of the intricate drawings was black and red, and the images were a hellish mix of flames, demonic shapes, and horrible beasts, his kind of fairy tales.

He let his hand glide up her back and turned her half on her side to face him, eying those sweet little mounds that were still popped out of the front of her dress. She was a bit disheveled, her cheap makeup smudged from rubbing her face in the bed and her hair a mess from him using it as a handle, but still quite pretty despite it all.

"Now... I think you owe me something, don't you? The truth, please... " He took off his sunglasses and let her see his red eyes, a stern look on his face. After a long second, he flashed her an evil grin. "...or am I going to have to fuck it out of you?"

 

[Story]

Mia was a mess. Her heart was pounding as her excitement reached its crest, her pussy throbbing with the aftermath of an intense orgasm. The aftermath of her arousal was growing cold as the room’s AC whipped her bare bottom that still stung from his palm and the swollen lips between her legs. Though as soon as he withdrew his fingers, she shuddered and pulled her knees in, one shaking hand moving to swipe her hair from her hot face.

Focus, she urged herself.

She would need to act before he had the chance to grab her again, and think strategically instead of desperately. So she pulled herself up when he turned her, violet eyes dark as she looked up at him. She didn’t even have to fake the blatant desire that slacked her face, despite the fact that her mascara was smudged and so was the lipstick on her mouth.

Her thighs were trembling as she rose up, but instead of making any sudden movements to flee, she shifted a leg over until she was straddling his lap. The flap of her dress flipped back over her red tinted ass cheeks, but he had pulled her undies off so her bare crotch was pressed against his hard cock beneath her, separated by just his jeans, maybe a bare of boxers -- unless he happened to be a briefs kind of guy. Or nothing, if commando. She ground down hard on him, half rocking, her lower lip dragged between her teeth even as she pouted down at him and leaned in further so that her bare breasts were in his face.

“The truth is I really want to fuck you,” she whispered, voice ragged. That much was probably true, even though nerves spiked through her and her cheeks cheated with the struggle to say the words in the first place. But then her straining nipple brushed his lips and her hands rose and lowered again on his shoulders.

That’s when she hit the panic button. She was too scared he would take this further if she didn’t act now and as tempting as her body’s arousal was making it for her to let him fuck it out of her, this was not at all what Mia had signed up for. This was supposed to have been a simple assignment, allegedly, if she hadn’t have fucked things up from the start. Her grip tightened on his shoulders by a fraction and she dragged in a harsh breath.

She didn’t need to speak the spell to know what she was doing; Mia was a natural, even if the cast was dangerous.

He would feel a deep, long pull from his own essence - chi, mana, aura, there were many words for the source she pulled from; Christians even thought it was the spirit - only to have it pull tight, like a rope, only inside him. There was nothing physical in what she did, yet, but it happened quickly, and the release would be that much sweeter.

Those violet eyes of hers swirled, the witchfire bright as she watched his face, then she wrenched what she pulled on right out of him and siphoned it through herself. She shouted with the surge of energy, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as her thighs tightened around his hips to secure her down as she grew lightheaded with the influx. Her belly even did a flip, her heart thundering again in her chest.

Then she threw it back up, barely apple to control the flow down to her fingertips so that it didn’t rip out of her at once even though her body shuddered violently with the force. Concentration was key and with a whine, she dipped her head down and sunk her teeth into his lower lip, biting him hard enough to draw a dot of blood as his own force wound back around him like invisible chains.

It was all she needed.

Angry now, she ripped her face away from his, her expression a mask of determination as she pulled her hands free of his shoulders and tried to tumble backwards from his lap as what she started took root. It was a binding spell that spiraled around his body, roping tight, and where it touched as it cascaded down from his shoulders, to his arms, around his chest and waist.. Down to his legs.. He wouldn’t be able to move.

Not until she released him.

And she had to hold on or it wouldn’t stick. The girl was trembling with the effort, her head spinning as she struggled to sustain control as energy burned through her faster than it should have. A trickle of blood even trickled from her nostril.

 

[Dark Prince]

It had been a long night and Griff was more than ready to finally have his reward.

He'd spent most of the evening unsuccessfully looking for information. His personal quest, maybe vendetta was a better word, had seemed to turn into dead leads over and over again. Literally dead as there was often a body at the end of every investigation, typically one he'd had to shoot himself. Tonight had been no different, this time some sort of fairy magical drug dealer pimp scum that had tried to jump him when his line of questioning hit the topic that always seemed to make these people snap. Something scared them bad enough to make dying from a pistol shot better than the alternative.

The half-naked purple eyed girl with the amazing ass was just the kind of distraction he needed. As much fun as her struggle had been, then eventual acquiescence to his touch, he was in the mood for a little more consensual enthusiasm for the final act, and he sensed a shift in her mood that hinted she was seeking the same. The look of desire on her face was encouraging, but her actual actions even more so. When she sat up and straddled him, those stocking clad thighs embracing the bare skin on the sides of his stomach, Griff's grin grew big.

"Or we can just fuck, and talk later," came Griff's reply as his hands reached around to cup her ass cheeks for a hard squeeze. The dress was more like a tube top, scrunched up around her mid-section, and everything that mattered, everything he wanted, hung out exposed for easy access. He could feel her now, that furnace between her thighs, as she found and ground herself against his straining cock. It was so sorely teased by now, but he couldn't let go of her sweet ass to unbuckle his jeans. "I'm going fuck you so hard that—"

Her nipple silenced his next words. She'd waved it in front of his lips and he'd grabbed it with his mouth by reflex. He'd already teased them with his fingers, but the feel of it between his lips was too tempting to resist. His tongue joined the fun, flicking it as he suckled her greedily. It was hard and swollen and he guessed she'd feel the thrums of pleasure, in fact he could almost feel a pulse himself...

That was odd.

His skin was tingling now, that telltale feeling he got when magic was happening. He looked up at her, opening his mouth to say something, and froze as he saw those purple eyes glowing hellishly. His skin was simmering with tingles of magic, burning so hot in his mind that he wouldn't be surprised if magical tendrils of steam were flowing off him. Tired, that was all he felt at first, as if was losing energy by the second and could just take a nap.

She is fucking draining me!

The thought snapped him to action, skin tingling madly as he finally fought her drain actively, and his muscles tensed in preparation to chuck her off the bed away from him. Before he could move, her mouth snapped down and bit him hard on his lip in a mockery of the kiss he would have welcomed seconds earlier.

He felt it instantly, whatever spell she had been preparing. It cast over him, sizzling heat by his perception against his own magical defenses that were imbued in his skin, like a spiderweb of magical strings that surrounded his body and tightened, trying to lock into place. He strained his muscles, trying to move, speak, release her ass cheeks that he still gripped, or even just dump her off the bed, but he couldn't. His skin was on magical fire now as her spell rippled and spread across him, his resistance weakening it in spots as she strengthened it with fresh power to keep him immobile.

"Ffffffuuuuuuccckkkkk yoooouuuu" he groaned out, barely able to move his jaws as he glared at her with angry red eyes that blazed themselves.

She had tumbled away from his and was staring at him from the floor now, her pretty face contorted with effort as she held him fixed.

There was nothing Griff hated more than being trapped. It reminded him of the time he didn't like to think about, the childhood he'd had that no person, demon or otherwise, should have had to endure. The anger flared inside him, fresh and strong, and the horrible hell and brimstone part of his essence flared up again. Cracks and sizzles filled the air, flashes of purple and sparks of red skittered over his tattooed frame. His jean smoked and holes appeared as her magic fought his and literally began to burn through his clothing. His eyes flared hotter and he lowered his hands to grip the edge of the bed in preparation of standing.

It was dangerous, burning his own energy so fiercely. He fueled it with rage and anger, but the crash was always painful and hard afterwards, leaving him emotionless and numb, as well as physically drained for days.

But he hated being trapped, so he fought as hard as he could. His jeans were vanishing now, disappearing as bursts of magical fire ate them into a cobweb of ashes that literally drifted away from his skin. He stood, it was slow, and painful, like an old man getting up without a walker to help them, but he did it as he stared down at the purple eyed girl with all the malice he could summon, his face contorted in pain as he felt like he was being burned alive.

This might kill him, he didn't know or even care, but he wouldn't let her trap him like this.

He'd rather die than suffer that again.

 

[Story]

Mia almost changed her mind. Almost. She really hadn’t expected his lips to wrap around her nipple, but then again -- hadn’t she? She moaned because she couldn’t help herself. The sensitive bud peaked against his tongue and her eyes dove down guiltily to watch his lips work around the sweet pink little areola. Against her better senses, she rocked against his mouth, pushing her nipple deeper, her crotch pushing hard against the bulge in his jeans and reveled at the sensation of his hands gripping her tingling, spanked behind with a thrill that should have disturbed her.

So she almost changed her mind about what she did next. She almost just fucked the demon underneath her like a wanton slut and taken her payment in the form of his cum. It wasn’t blood, but it would have worked, and with the way she had felt so far, it would have felt good too. More than good.

But then it was too late. She had already set it all into motion and she tasted copper on her tongue where she pulled back from his lip.

A different kind of self-satisfaction settled over her then that had nothing to do with the fact that she was as horny as a hormonal teenager. Her eyes mocked him as she jerked the cups of her bra up to cover her aching nipples, followed soon by the straps of her dress to cover the lacy bra. The thong she was sure was still on the bed with him, but she yanked down her dress just the same to hide her parts from his line of sight with a look that was like a pout replacing the self-satisfied smirk.

He was tantruming like a two year old. Perfect.

“Fuck yoouuuuu, tooooo…” she repeated back at him, almost petulant. She was almost ready to do a victory dance, too, when he pulled himself off the bed, straining with everything that he had to fight the spell that was supposed to leave him prone for an hour - at most - while she cut and ran.

Her eyes went a little bug eyed at how pissed he looked, too. Grinning nervously now, she sprung up like a little kitten and jerked herself over to the wall where her little knife waited in the cheap wallpaper and drywall. She yanked it out, kicking her heels on the floor, and made her way back over to where his own essence was stripping him for her.

But she wasn’t after his dick. Not right now.

No, she danced forward like a jack rabbit and slashed once, a thin line across his cheek, to catch his blood on the weapon, then darted back just as fast as he hobbled against the binding spell that she had cast. And while she knew she shouldn’t do it - she was already light headed - she still leaned in for one more.

Her free hand pressed against his forehead and this time she did utter the incantation to direct its purpose. “Somnum,” she commanded, followed by a pulse of energy that was like a good dose of anesthesia. Count backwards to ten, but you never would make it past nine before you were out like a lightbulb.

She just hoped he was the same way so that he didn’t harm himself by fighting the first thing. And the fact that she was stumbling backwards holding a bloodied stiletto, her other nostril trailing a trickle of blood now as the spots danced before her eyes.

Out, out, out. She made it to the door, out, and let it slam shut behind her. She only allowed herself to lean against it for a moment before she lifted a shaking hand and swiped the blood from her face, which only smeared it instead.

Fuck, I left my fucking purse in there. With my fucking phone.

Only she wasn’t about to go back in there to try and retrieve it. Instead, she stumbled down the hall towards the elevators.

 

[Dark Prince]

Griff woke up in a cold sweat.

The first thing he felt was his head, which throbbed like a bad hangover. Then he felt his cheek, still burning with pain from the cut that bitch had made. With a groan, he sat up, feeling his whole body ache now as every muscle complained at being used as if he'd been hit by a truck. He was naked, the ashes of his jeans still scattered around the bed and floor, but oddly enough he was alive.

The asshole demon side of him was gone, burnt out and slumbering, so it was just the rational human guy now, but he forced himself not to think about what he'd just done. There was plenty of time to feel guilty later, when he truly safe.

Why hadn't she killed me? Or sent a team in to capture me?

Griff scratched at his scabbed cheek thoughtfully as he forced himself to stand on shaky legs. She may have made a mistake, or perhaps the team to capture him was on its way, but he was still free and he knew he had to move, and quickly. His mind was foggy, but he kept reliving the final moments of their encounter, the smug look on her face as her spell had snapped in place and the brief flicker of surprise as he'd continue to move despite her attempts to bind him in place.

She hadn't looked like she was relieved, as he would expect if she was waiting for backup. She had almost just seemed to be eager to get out of his room.

What was her game? Why the cut on his face? Why did she run after she'd knocked him out?

Wandering around the room, shaking his head to clear it, he fished out a new set of clothes from his bag and got dressed. He felt like a rheumatic old man as he gingerly slipped on some new jeans and a fresh t-shirt, wincing as every minor contortion brought a fresh round of agony to his aching muscles. All of his stuff seemed here still, and untouched, including his gun, and he packed up his few belongings quickly and efficiently.

A last check of the room revealed that she had left in a hurry, which was even more surprising since no one else had come barging in yet. On the bed was her thong, which Griff picked up and studied. That little wisp of silk still smelled of her tangy arousal, which, despite how burnt and tired he felt, made his cock tingle a tiny bit. He pocketed it, unsure if because it might have value or if he was just a pervert.

Behind it, though, was the real prize, a small and dainty purse that she definitely regretted leaving. Inside was a wallet, some makeup, keys, emergency tampon, and various random crap, but most notably there was her phone. He hesitated for a second, knowing that the phone could be tracked, but decided it was too valuable to leave behind. He turned it off, then threw the purse into his pack and shouldered it.

"Fuck purple eyed bitches," he mumbled as he put on his sunglasses and exited the room.

He lit a cigarette in the elevator and smoked it as he strolled out of the lobby, ignoring the front desk clerk's angry reprimands. Outside it was late and quiet, the clock read 4:30 a.m., but a cab was waiting out front, the driver half-asleep, and he was soon headed to another business hotel on the other side of town, eyes studying the dark streets as if he expected the bad luck ending to this night's tale to happen at any second.

Nothing made sense, and he didn't like that feeling.

He pulled out her phone and turned it on, risking being tracked for a couple of minutes to see if he could get any information from it. The screen was locked, but messages and missed call notifications popped up. He couldn't read them, but the name was visible, a person called "Pace". Turning it back off, he looked through her wallet. It was a mini-one, designed to fit in a small purse, but her driver's license was there, plus some cash and credit cards.

"Mia Omicidio," he said as he studied her picture. No one looked good in their driver's license photo, but Mia somehow did. Her eyes weren't as violet, maybe she'd thrown in contact lenses like Griff did when he had to take photos, but she was definitely the girl he'd spanked last night. And fingered. Aaannnd in both holes.

You are a real creep.

Well, the fact that she'd enjoyed herself was the best defense he could think of in answer to that self-accusation. That and clearly with her magic she could have stopped him sooner if she had truly been bothered, which Griff now rationalized was not the case. In fact, she'd probably let him get her off because she was a kinky bitch, and maybe thought he'd be easier to subdue with his guard down. That was actually the best defense he could think of, and he seized onto the idea that she'd used him to get herself off, because not only was she working for the bad guys, but she was even a bigger pervert then Griff.

Pervert, that word made him think about her thong in the pocket of his leather jacket, but he resisted the urge to pull it out and take another sniff.

"Well Ms. Omicidio, you dirty little pervert," Griff said to himself, flicking her laminated license and grinning. "Looks like I know where you live, and you never answered my question, did you?"

 

[Story]

Mia could have done a number of things after she fled the hotel room, palm slapping the elevator panel in a panic, and looking distressed enough when she danced in place in that small, enclosed space that the front desk clerk asked her if she was OK when she wobble-kneed it across the lobby and outside.

Only to come right back in, white as a sheet, and whispered in a pathetic enough voice that she needed a cab that the hotel paid for her Uber back home.

...Because, you know, she’d been stupid enough to leave her everything upstairs in the room she wasn’t going to speak of ever again.

So she could have gone running back to Pace, with a bloody knife that she’d shoved into her garter belt for safe keeping, and cried at him that the big bad demon had finger banged her to orgasm. Either her guardian monster would laugh, observe how kinky that was, or he would berserk out and rip the demon’s spine out from his anus. Maybe all three.

Mia liked to think she was a big girl.

So she went home, to her own place. Alone. Without making a pit stop at the Corner. From there, she let her anger simmer. Let it pick up to a full boil, overflow to the point that she had shredded the cheap whore outfit she wore with the residual magic that still clung from being siphoned from the demon. Then she was drained, the internal rage dwindling down to petulant irritation while the flickering lights of clothing ash strained the hardwood floors of the loft she occupied.

Naked, she left the bloodied dagger on the kitchen table, then stumbled to the far side of the room and flung herself into the tangle of sheets and comforter that was her bed, scaring the tabby cat that had been curled up and asleep there, to toss and turn in sleepless turmoil.

She did push her fingers between herself and her mattress somewhere around two in the morning, and stroked her clit while she muffled her moans into her pillow and thrashed about, cumming again too quickly with the rub of her fingers for her to feel any mental relief even if her body did finally relax as she rubbed her own sticky arousal on the sheets next to her.

The next day, though, she woke with a plan. It wasn’t a good plan; in fact, it was a plan she devised out of her own self-pity and shame, especially since she had gone to sleep masturbating on the night she had fled after being sexually molested.

Needless to say, Mia was still upset at what had occurred in the hotel room.

It was why as the sun started its descent below the horizon that next day, she sat in a semi circle in the cleared off space she had made in what doubled as both her living room and bedroom -- and, well, kitchen too. Underneath the rug that was now rolled up to one side,a pentagon was meticulously carved into the wood from years ago, now traced in the blood of a hapless rat that had died for her less than saintly purposes. The dagger with the demon’s blood now dried on its blade sat in the center of another circle, marked with salt, just outside her own which would serve the capture him and prevent him from trying anything funny when she summoned him there.

The rest was the makings of a spell. Something not done on the fly and which had taken up a few hours of her day to make sure that she did it right. She was, in essence, going to bind him to her as a familiar --- but only for a short while; only long enough so that he would have a taste of his own medicine and feel just helpless enough in her own power before she brought him to be judged and tried for crimes that they were still unsure if he had even committed.

Murder. Sexual assault.

...It really wasn’t part of her job to make decisions like this.

And yet there was determination now as she pulled in a breath and closed her eyes, folding herself up into a cross legged position and honing in on the music she had playing in the background, grasping onto the tune rather than the lyrics as she ignited the spark spindled into her core - chi, or mana, spirit or whatever the fuck else people decided to call the essence channeled - and lit the first cantrip at one point of the pentagon.

Instantly, she felt the thrum of power that snapped her eyes open, glowing with the pale violet witchfire of her gaze. It was easy for the next three, though her control was already wavering as she juggled four before she even got to the fifth, which was the knife itself. Connecting the five points one by one, Mia gritted her teeth and focused it all on what she had taken from him and used his own blood to draw him there into the circle just for him.