Ashmedai’s Job

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The medieval illustrations lied: he wasn’t a monster. But then, a monster wouldn’t have been able to do his job. And how surprising was it that there would be lies associated with demons?

Kari didn’t particularly care what Ashmedai was or wasn’t, he could tell; all she cared about was his hands and lips, and the absolute havoc they were raising with her body. Which was as it should be. “You know,” he murmured into the warm skin of her throat, right where the pulse beat, “you hardly even know me.”

“I don’t usuallymmmmm,” she said, her voice dissolving into a purr as he nipped her throat. “Don’t usually do this–“

“You’re not feeling guilty, surely,” he said, his voice only just audible.

She didn’t answer; he licked her throat, the tip of his tongue barely touching her soft, warm skin, making her shiver. He walked his fingers down her body, opening her shirt and letting his fingertips tease her nipples to hardness. The cold air outside the nightclub helped, but he was certain most of it came from his touch. “Talk to me, little one,” he said. “If you don’t, I might think you don’t love me anymore, and go away.”

“How can I love you?” she asked. “I’ve only just met you–” The words trailed off into a low, shuddering moan as he pinched and twisted her nipples. She Maraş Escort arched against him pleasure at his touch.

“So it’s just lust then,” he said, smiling into her throat, nipping again. “Well, I can certainly live with that.”

Her hands buried themselves in his hair, and she lifted his head, kissed him hungrily, greedily – or was it gluttony rather than greed, Ashmedai wondered in the back of his mind. Greed for material wealth, gluttony for food. Ardenter, for eating too eagerly–he brought his mind back on the job. Not that it was a hardship; Kari was so sweet, such a tender little morsel….

He pushed her backwards until her back was against the wall, cold brick.

“Here–” she gasped. “Not here–“

“Here or nowhere, kitten,” he said, and pushed her skirt up to her hips. His fingers strayed to her inner thigh, then inside her panties, finding the wetness there. “Want me to stop? Let you go back inside to the club?”

“Nooo…Ash, please….”

“Here, then,” Ashmedai said. He gripped her panties in both hands and yanked once, twice; the side-seams gave way easily, and the thin, lacy little garment fell to the ground. She cried out as though he’d torn her instead of her panties, and again when he took her hands and guided them to his belt Maraş Escort Bayan buckle.

“You know what to do,” he said, and kissed away any protest she might have made; his fingers guided hers in undoing the belt buckle for a moment. But then, when he moved one of his hands to exploring between her legs, her fingers suddenly flew, undoing the buckle and the button fly, and seeking within.

“That’s my girl,” he said, and slid a finger inside her. Her head went back, eyes closed, and she moaned, hips moving as he finger-fucked her. Not for long, though; he let her have some pleasure out of it, then removed his finger. Before she could do more than open her mouth, he’d lifted her, pinning her against the wall again, her feet not touching the ground. She reached down, fingers wrapping around his shaft; he thrust, she guided him into her, and cried out as he penetrated her – the full measure, filling her, in one swift, smooth stroke.

“Still think that here’s a bad idea?” he asked, beginning to fuck her.

She couldn’t answer, only moan, her hands clutching at him.

“Talk to me, kitten, tell me you like it.”

Kari moaned; close enough to a ‘yes’ to suit him. He sped up, taking his own pleasure in hers, in her moans and the way she clung and scratched Escort Maraş at him, urging him faster and deeper. She’d reached the point of no return; so had he, and he bit at her throat as she clawed at his back as they both came.

“Ash,” she gasped, spent. “Oh my god, Ash, that was…unbelievable.”

He chuckled, nipping and nibbling at her throat, stroking her hair, gradually letting her down to the ground. “Pleasure’s all mine, kitten,” he said as her feet touched the ground.

Her hands went to her skirt, pulling it down – and encountering the evidence of their passion. Her face flushed bright red. “Oh, my god, I can’t go back in there like this. I never do things like this, I’m not like this–“

He stopped her words with a kiss. “You are now, kitten,” he said. An appropriate nickname for her, he thought, the way she’d clawed at his back. If he’d been naked, she’d have shredded his back. Not that he minded that in the least; it was a mark of how completely abandoned she’d been, how far into lust he’d led her.

So far that she’d never come back to the way she’d been.

He could have laughed in joy, except that she’d have misunderstood, and that would have undone all the work he’d just done. He didn’t want to laugh at her; it was just that, damn, he loved his job.


14th century German theologian Peter Binsfeld, came up with a demon for each deadly sin – Asmodeus (Ashmedai is an alternate spelling) was the demon he assigned to lust

Why, yes, I was raised Catholic. Why do you ask?

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