… solipsubmissive …

This is the fourth in a series of seven unrelated but theme connected tales.  You’ll find the first here:  one of seven

“For Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do.”

from “Against Idleness and Mischief”
a poem from Divine Songs for Children by Isaac Watts

***

Belphegor leaned against the arched opening that led from the dining room to the den, an indulgent smile curving his lips.  Had he known it was there, he’d likely have hidden it.  No matter.  Constance didn’t even look up from the document she was busy editing.  “Tough day?” she asked, when she sensed his presence.

“Mm.  No comment.”  He’d been busy today, the irony of which Constance would enjoy far too much.  His eyes roved around the spotless, tastefully decorated room.  Not an item out of place.  Even her workspace in the corner was pristine, projects neatly sorted into color-coded files, the laptop open with her screensaver quietly cycling through its host of beloved photographs.  He knew if he crossed the room and ran a finger over the screen, he’d not find a single speck of dust.

She made one last mark with her red pen, then placed the document back into it’s folder and set it aside.  “Dinner is nearly ready.”  She stood and walked over to him, slipped her arms around his waist and tilted her face up for a kiss.  “You’re tired,” she accused when he didn’t comply.

He smacked her bottom once and pulled away, untangling himself from her embrace.  “Do I have time for a shower?”  He started down the hall toward the bedroom without waiting for an answer.

Constance watched him go, a bemused look on her face.  “Of course you do,” she muttered, then went into the kitchen to finish preparing their meal.

The hot water was like needles as it struck his upper back then sluiced down his body in soothing rivulets.  He braced an arm against the wall and simply stood there, allowing the steam to billow around and embrace him with humidity.  The day had been long, busy … and unfulfilled.  He didn’t turn when he heard the shower door quietly open and close.  A moment later, he felt her begin softly washing back with a soapy cloth.

“i left my clothes all over the bathroom floor,” she remarked.

Belphegor chuckled despite his weariness.  “It’s killing you, isn’t it?”

She kissed him just below the shoulder blade, then slipped her arms around him, laid her cheek against the sinewy muscles of his back.  “I’ll pick them up later.”

He turned and leaned against the wall, pulled her close.  Her skin, wet and smooth, met his, slid with just the right amount of friction.  “Dinner will be cold.  I’m sure you’ve worked hard on it.  You work hard on everything.”

Her heart fluttered a little.  “Not everything.  For a demon, you’re really rather easy to love.”  She bent forward, placed her lips around his hardened nipple, drew it into her mouth. 

He caught her face roughly between his hands.  “You’re not so easy to love, Constance.  You’re incorruptible.  A constant thorn in my side.”

She smiled, undeterred by his harsh words.  “The world is your playground, love.  More souls to corrupt than you can shake a stick at.  No demon has more to do than you, the lord of sloth, of laziness.”  Her eyes flashed at him.  “If i allowed you to corrupt me, i’d lose you.  You know it’s true.”

One hand slid around to cradle the back of her head, gathered the wet ropes of her dark hair in a fist.  He pulled, tilting her head back still further, and regarded the vulnerable column of her throat.  “I could take your soul if i wished,” he taunted.  “You’d give it to me.”

She pressed closer to him, felt his cock, hot and hard, against her stomach.  “Then take it, demon.  Will that ease your frustration?  Will it complete your day?”

Abruptly, he released her.  “Get out.  Leave me.”

Without a word, Constance opened the door and left the shower.  She folded her lips together, striving for control.  When she almost tripped over his pants, which he’d left in the doorway, she bent and began picking up the clothes they’d both strewn on their way to the bathroom. 

Before she could straighten, the door to the shower burst open and banged back against the wall.  A second later he was on her, pushing her to the floor, his arm circling her waist to break her fall.  “Mine,” he growled in her ear, before nudging her knees apart and entering her roughly.  She cried out and curled her fingers into helpless claws, dug them into the pile of the carpet.

Belphegor fucked her without mercy, covered her, possessed her.  One hand found the softness of a breast, the other the column of her throat, and he used both to pull her back against him.  He felt the vibrating rasp of her groan against his hand, knew the second her need blossomed to meet his in the arch of her back and the wetness of her cunt.  He used her as a balm to bury his frustrations, and she offered, opened eagerly and wantonly for him.

She grunted and flinched in pain.  “Yours,” she agreed, gasping on the word.  She slid a hand beneath her, found her clit with a finger and stroked once … twice, then convulsed around him in orgasm, her sex contracting and grasping his cock as it plunged in and out.  A second later, he cried out and stiffened, then erupted and filled her with his demon seed.

As calm descended, Belphegor settled on his side, pulling her close and spooning around her smaller form.  Constance smiled, snuggled close, allowed her eyelids to fall.  He kissed the top of her head.  “No,” he murmured.

“No?”

“I don’t suppose I need your soul,” he answered.  “As long as I have your heart.”

five of seven