Blind Faith Ch. 03 Bound by Emotion

I haven't even seen you naked yet. But you fill my every waking thought. Who will you drag into our sessions next? What will you ask me to do - because ultimately you know the biggest turn on. Even in the moment, you give me the final say.

But I know saying yes is what will turn you on. I know accepting your expectations is what gets you off. And then I refill my reserves with your delectable energy.

Because I feel the change in your emotions every time.

And your only rule? I remember that I'm yours. That's it.

Fuck, you know how to work a demon best. Give me no lead, and I'm yours.

I've taken from Engali before. But none had a scent. In fact, no one smells like anything to me other than their cologne and body odour. Unless they're fae.

It's a rarer blood gift, Dad told me. One I'm meant to keep secret, like my empathy. I smell fae magic.

But you? You smell like roses. Your energy tastes like roses, too--sticky, heady, intoxicating. I ate a few petals yesterday just to check. They were spot on.

So what are you?

I'm at my demon centre tonight at the nightclub, for my evening job. I graduated as a healer, but my strength sucks.

I think. I've never taken it to full throttle. Never let myself go. My dad told me the truth no one speaks in the Conclave halls.

Healing another steals my life force. It might be seconds, or minutes. But any time I heal, I lose my time on this planet.

I look through the dominatrix menu and groan--I need a new photo. I'm not bald anymore. Thank the gods it's growing back. Short, easy to care for: curly mess on top, faded on the sides.

It contrasts my red uniform, the lingerie, the tall fuck-me boots. I slip into the dressing room to my locker. You should be here as my assistant. That's what an assigned Engali is supposed to do.

But you don't. You refused.

You're not in town for the next few nights. Your back up plan for your succubus? You tell me to not deplete my energy. I've got my work, too. Retail during the day, and the lucrative income at night.

So I smile at my assistant, blonde-haired Gemma, not her real name of course. She's Engali in training, her last year.

'I heard what you did for us. It was nice.' Gemma helps remove my street clothes.

I smile. 'We need you. You don't need us,' I say, shrugging my shirt off. 'But you deserve our respect.'

A phrase my mom told me ever since we discovered I take after Dad. She was his Engali, and they married with Father. A quaint typical demon family. Three parents and a horde of five spawn.

I don't ever want to have spawn.

Gemma nods as she hangs my clothes up. 'Black or red tonight?' She laughs. It's always red for me. It's my colour.

I stand naked, surveying myself in the full length mirror. My short, brown hair makes my oval face seem longer. I turn left, fingering the fifteen sterling silver hoops in that ear. I want a tragus piercing next, in both lobes.

Gemma's hands glide over my body, oiling my skin up for the evening. 'You have a new one?' Her fingers trace a tender new photo on my right shoulder.

I like when the oil glistens, saturating the tattoos. 'We were high. I don't remember getting it, and I'm pissed the heart's not even.'

Gemma steps back. Again, her fingers trace my skin. She tilts her head, studying me. 'It's unique. I think it looks better this way. Abstract.'

She finishes oiling my skin, then holds out my bra. My padded bra--the one that makes me a B-cup if you squint. 'Maybe I should leave the bra off. Some clients say they like to see a little jiggle.'

Gemma snorts with a stifled laugh, as she cups my tiny boob. 'You have to have something to jiggle first off, Z.'

I stick my tongue out at her, setting the bra straps onto my shoulders. A why bother, but the lace is pretty, and pricey.

I snap the matching lacy boy shorts into place. Gemma helps me with the red leather body harness--I can't reach the back clasp between my wings alone.

I grip the bar and step into the thigh-high red boots. Gemma zips them up, slow and deliberate. I stand fifteen centimeters taller now.

'Would you like some help to get started?' she asks coyly.

I glance down and smile. All I have to do is picture your face--the exact second I surprise you in our sessions. That flicker of disbelief before you recover, pretending you meant for it to happen.

That's when I know I've got you.

My motor's already running.

Gemma eases the red leather moulded mask over my face. Only my eyes and my lips show through--a demonic mask, complete with exaggerated spiral horns to cover my smaller set.

She cups my boobs from behind, giving them a light lift. 'There. You're ready, Lady.'

I take the red whip from my locker and hang it from the body harness. 'Let's go.'

I step through the door onto the stage. Fun room 3, my office. My mind shifts the second I cross the threshold.

The girl in the mirror is gone.

Now I belong to the red.

~*~

My couple kneel next to the entrance, eyes cast down. My regulars. They know the drill.

She wears a black shift dress and nothing else, her legs spread as she glistens in the soft light. He wears black linen pants, no shirt.

My heels click on the tiled floor as I walk around them, surveying. Inspecting. I frown, reaching down to flick his hair.

'Shower him. Get rid of the hair gel.' I order.

Gemma, wearing her own white half mask, rushes forward silently and takes his arm. He goes quietly, blushing with shame. I hear the shower start and smile. Gemma's learning. He gasps as the cold water hits him.

I kneel on my tall boots, spreading my thighs as I inspect Her. She's done something uber feminine to her long blond hair. It's soft, shiny, gentle coils when I know her hair is straight. I run my fingers through it, jealous. But she made the effort and deserves a reward. 'You look beautiful tonight.'

She preens under my words, shining with pleasure.

I lift her shift and smile. She's kept herself bare. Beautiful. I move onto my knees. 'Stand.'

She gracefully stands up without pushing off. 'Good girl. You've been exercising your core. Spread.'

She sighs as she obeys. I lean in, scenting her pussy. I run my finger through her folds, slick. Wet. Her tangy scent beckons. I flicker my tongue onto her exposed, swollen clit, licking her slick from my finger.

She gasps, rocks her pelvis forward to make herself available.

I dive into her thighs, brushing my tongue along her folds. Feather-soft, teasing.

I glance up--she's watching, panting fast, pupils blown wide.

I grin. Then suck her clit hard, slow and deep. A deliberate pull. My tongue circles, rubs, pressus--until her hips jolt beneath me.

She gasps again, 'Oh, Lady!'

He's wet, shivering, feeling sorry for himself. Serves him right. 'Strip him down, get him on the table.'

Gemma obliges as she peels off the wet pants aggressively.

I stand up. 'It's your seventh wedding anniversary. I thought tonight we'd turn things up a little. He is Boy. You, my lovely darling, are Mistress. You will both call me Lady.'

Mistress licks her lips hungrily. 'Yes, Lady.'

Gemma locks him into place, wrists and ankles tied down. His pink eye winks at me, begging for abuse--his cock already rigid despite the cold treatment.

After a beat, he answers. 'Yes, Lady and Mistress.'

Consent, clear and sweet.

I intend to give them an anniversary they will never forget. My gift to them.

I nod towards Boy. 'Give him a heads up, Mistress.'

She rushes over, still in her shift, and takes his cock into her mouth. She slurps and licks his shaft like a lollipop until I give her the next order.

At my work station, I select a few toys to begin with. He loves anal. We've explored that together in the past. But I don't think Mistress has, yet.

I click my way to the table, standing back to admire her technique. Slurp, slurp, dive down to his balls. Wiggles her head. Slowly sucks her way back up. Looks like fun.

I come behind her, gently nudging her feet apart. 'You'll need your pelvic floor. Or do you prefer me to strap it on?'

Slurp, pop.

'Strap, please, Lady.'

I lube up a double-headed dildo--V-shaped, with a set of balls.

Slowly, I ease the larger end into her slit, teasing her with deliberate patience. She groans with pleasures around his shaft.

'Fuck!' Boy calls out, eyes glued to everything I do to his wife.

I smile at him, then deliberately pull the whole five-inch shaft out, grinding it back in with slow, small circles. I won't hurt my clients, the dildo purposefully smaller than his dick. I don't humiliate, either.

His gaze never wavers as I strap the harness tight around her hips, securing it in place.

She comes off his cock with a squelch when I tap her shoulder twice, letting me slip her shift off.

'How would you like to make him come just by anal tonight, Mistress?' I croon into her ear, fucking her with the dildo as I sip a whisper of her energy.

She leans back into my arms, melting, moaning--so fucking turned on.

His eyes widen, mouth parting as his breath rasps. 'Oh fuck, yeah.'

I encourage dirty talk in my sessions.

I hand Mistress the lube, nodding to his exposed ass. 'All yours, honey.'

Mistress presses the head of the toy against his bud. 'Ready, Boy?'

'Please,' he breathes, voice cracking. 'I want it.'

Mistress grins wide as she rams the head into his tight sphincter. He grunts, body jolting-- and she shudders, the pressure reverberating up her side through the shared shaft.

She glances one at him. He gives a small nod. 'More,' he says.

She thrusts--balls deep. His breath stutters, head falling back with a broken moan.

She grabs his hips and draws back out, slow and steady. Her side rocks from the motion, her knees buckling as they both quiver, caught in the echo.

When she steadies herself, she finds a rhythm--thrusts dancing from root to tip, each one sharper, more confident. She steps back, adjusting for leverage and space.

As her hips slap his, I smile as I sense the room. Her moves become stronger, harder, more assured. Her determination rolls off her in heated waves, thick with lust and power.

He groans, somewhere between pain and pure pleasure. His fingers claw at his constraints. 'Fuck--Mistress--' he chokes out, breath broken. 'You're... you're really doing it.'

There's awe in his voice. Shock. And just enough shame to make it hotter.

I grin. He hates not being in control--but fuck, he loves not being in control even more.

I click forward and climb onto the table above his head. 'I've had enough of your language, Boy. Time to wash it out.'

I straddle his face facing Mistress, lowering with full expectation. The seam of my lacy panties parts with my thighs.

He whimpers as his cock pulses--alone, neglected, begging for any kind of fun.

I clamp down onto his tongue with my slick slit. 'Dig deep tonight, Boy,' I purr. 'This is all the pussy you're getting.'

He moans into me, tongue already working.

He loves to be dominated.

And me? I aim to please.

~*~

His moans deepen in a groan as my hips grind over his mouth. Mistress still goes at him below, each thrust forcing his tongue deeper into me. The tension builds, tightening the air with static. I taste it in my teeth.

I listen to the winds--feeling his pulse through my thighs.

His energy courses just below his skin, ripe and crackling with need. The moment she hits his prostate just right, I open myself-- and feed.

As his energy slips into me, hot jets of pleasure rip through him.

He cries out into me, gagging on his own moan as he shoots, helpless and shaking.

Strips of cum stripe his stomach, untouched--purely from the pressure, the domination, the loss of control.

Mistress shudders as she releases the harness.

I smile as I rock my hips against his chin. 'Go on. Finish yourself, honey. You've earned it.'

Boy writhes beneath me, soft groans muffled against my slit.

She licks her lips, strapping the harness to his body. Her gaze meets mine as her grin widens.

'Together?' she asks.

Challenge accepted-- 'First to come loses.'

We ride Boy into the sunset. It's their anniversary, after all--I let her win.

Now that we'd all had our first turn, I take my time, guiding them through a few more rounds--slow, deliberate, savoring every moment.

~*~

I have sex for money with my clients. I'm a soft dom at the Club of the Conclave. There are plenty who humiliate, subjugate or do more radical explorations of fetish.

I'm the gateway to it all. The soft entry. The gentle approach to letting go. That's my angle.

So yea, I know all about dominating and being dominated. But this--our thing? It's new, because it's outside my office.

It's ours. I like feeling what my clients feel. I think our sessions are making my work better. My latest tips have certainly been bigger.

I share half of my tips with the House. Not the landlords, or the Conclave coffers--no, with the ones who help make the club a good place for my clients. Gemma, reception, the security guards. The ones who keep us safe.

I'm not a totally selfish bastard. But I have uni bills coming up, so the work is necessary.

Which brings me to my retail job. Why not fuck my way through tuition, right?

Wrong.

My parents--Mom and Father--insist I be gainfully employed.

Or there I'll be saddled with a pack of dribbling baby cousins from the endless stream of Clan 'Cousins.'

You know that demon families often do group marriage. But it means lots of kids. Every partner usually wants a few with their own genes.

Father had two, Dad had three of us five.

No fucking way.

Maybe one. Someday. Like, when I'm forty and my career's sorted. Maybe. But even then--do I want to push out another soul just to pass on my biology? Being a succubus sucks. So does having empathy. Why curse someone else with it?

My next older brother is totally against it all. No Demon Edicts, no demon partner, no spawn at all. He's prowling for a human partner who is as into swords as he is. I love our faith, but I like his style.

But you asked about the retail job. It's all relative. Related. Whatever.

I do the daytime job because Uni hasn't started. If I'm at work, earning an honest unit, Mom and Father leave me alone--so proud I'm 'working so hard to build my hearth.'

Fuck.

I haven't told Mom there's no way I'm ever being the next clan leader of our branch.

'Hey. Aren't you gonna ring me up?' A sharp voice breaks my reverie.

I have conversations with you in my head all the time. It eases the sting when we're apart.

I smirk at Tux. 'Fuck off.' I start roughly blipping her shit through my scanner.

She pouts, jutting her hip out. 'I'm gonna report you. Rude, asshole.'

I reach into my bag below and beam her forehead expertly with a cheap small candy. 'Shove that where the sun don't shine.'

I grin, pushing her bag forward. 'I should charge you for a pain-in-the-neck tax.'

Tux--five years younger than me, a kobold with a killer attitude--has been through so much shit in life. She's my best friend, way more mature. But she's the one being I can abuse to work off my irritations over the retail mob. I also fantasize about seeing the really specist ones locked up on my table, gagged.

Tux leans on the counter, chomping on her candy. She tosses the crumpled wrapper at me, but misses. She's one talented dancer, but sucks as an athlete. 'You coming over this weekend?'

You're back in town Friday. You said to meet at the Teahouse, that we'd be tied up for as long as necessary.

I frown. 'I can't. Something's come up.' I push the pay terminal her way.

She stands up, angry. 'What do you mean? We've planned it for months?'

Best friend or best fuck? Honestly, it's not a difficult decision if you're involved.

'Uni's starting in two weeks. I have to get my financing sorted and get the books.' Truth, but not urgent.

Tux scans her card, grabbing her bag. 'Fine. Fuck you too.' She leaves without looking back.

And yet, my body tingles. What do you have planned this time?

~*~

Daylix shoves the pallet aside, revealing our special break room. He's eight feet tall, pure demon, and the biggest teddy bear you'll ever meet. Most demons in the warehouse are built like this--cheaper than maintaining forklifts. But, purebreds require a few adjustments to the standard workday, and a rewrite to Human Resource policies.

Humans put that pallet there, on purpose. Not like they're achieving anything. Even their admin department is specist--being called HUMAN resources and all. Wankers.

It's Friday morning. Our worship day. But human calendars don't accommodate this. So, we have our special break room.

Each of us scans our cards as we enter the room. You have to be labelled 'demon' on your card to gain entry. I can't tell you how many times others try to break in.

I hold up my scanner and circle the room slowly as I watch the image, a bright red pinpoint appearing. I point to a cross section of the grill. 'There.'

Daylix wrenches off the grill, and retrieves a small camera, crushing in his fist. I continue my sweep, clean.

See? Fucking evolved monkeys. Because we'd let them worship with us if they just asked.

The door locks behind us as we begin to quietly undress at the wall of bench and hooks.

'May the gods receive our bounty,' Daylix announces reverently.

'And give back in their grace and gifts,' our voices merge together.

Then--boom--the disco ball drops like a punchline, and the room fills with that cheesy synth eeka-cheeka. The beat hits, and suddenly, we're moving--no shame, just worship in motion.

I stifle my snicker. Honestly, I've watched too much porn in my short life. I get that vision every time.

Daylix winks at me as he approaches. 'Share the joke, Sister.'

I snort. 'Eeka Cheeka, baby.' It's become an inside joke for this worship study group.

Laughter bubbles up around us, shattering the reverence as we all relax. There's a new demon this week--always throws off the casual vibes.

As others pair off, Daylix wraps his warm around my waist, hosting me up. He likes the dainty ones.

I flare my wings wider, expressing my interest, and my consent. His vast bat wings open in response. I lean in, pausing a milimeter away from his warm lips, waiting. He smiles, then closes the gap as he delivers a gentle kiss. Without preamble, for none is needed, He hoists me up to his shoulders as he sits down. I'm light, he's powerful. Fuck, I wish the big ones did it for me.

But my body just can't handle the depth. The girth is fine, I mean, a baby squishes out of our bits and I haven't seen a guy bigger than that yet. But it's the length. I'm ten inches tops. That's a lame dick in demon terms.

Daylix does me the service of keeping me for himself, and his nine inch tongue of wonder. Allowing me to be a part of without having to dishonour any others. My body has limits.

He watches as his tongue gently explores the edges of my folds, slow and deliberate. Then he turns his face, licking my inner thighs, tracing a path upward. I hear someone settle behind me, arms reaching forward to pull me back.

'Lean onto me. Share in our passion.'

I look back and smile--the new lady. At least seven feet tall, muscular, stunning.

Gorgeous.

She guides his fifteen inch cock into her slit, rocking her hips slowly as she eases around his girth. She sighs, licking her lips, as she sinks down inch by inch.

I turn on Daylix's face as he groans, caught in the worship of her.

'I'm Zee.' I say, using my nickname.

She smiles. 'Pelatix.'

Yup. Full demons and their obsession with the letter x. Not a single one in my full name, and I'm damn proud.

I kiss her--soft lips, welcoming. Her tongue is gentle but searching as she explores me. My mind tilts, caught between two large, talented tongues sweeping through me. Pleasure washes over, my wings quiver as I surrender.

Pelatix is a fucking talent. She rides Dalix, rocking her hips up and down his shaft while her head stays glued to my mouth. Her tongue mirrors her movements, sinking into me as she sits down, then rising again.

Daylix catches the rhythm of our worship as he matches her tempo perfectly. Holy gods. I've never been this in sync--a bridge for the gods between powerful devouts.

I open my eyes and glance around.

Lerya and Den share a quiet, communal devotion, their attention wholly on Peanut nestled between them. Their movements are slow and deliberate, a wordless offering of reverence and care. Peanut's breathing deepens, matching the rhythm of their combined presence, as the three of them become a single, intertwined expression of trust and worship.

Jigger sits quietly in the corner, a solitary worshipper amid the shared devotion. His gaze drifts across the room, taking in the group's intimate communion with a mixture of longing and contentment. Preferring his own quiet reverence, he lets the energy wash over him as he embraces his solo ritual, hands moving in his lap.

Pelatix laughs as she begins a circular motion with her hips. 'You like to watch?'

I kiss her back, whispering into her mouth. 'I like to be watched.'

Her hands cup my cheeks as she pours more of herself into our kisses.

This. This is what I crave.

Not just the sharp edges of your hunt. With you, I'm caught in a storm--every touch a test, every glance a command. It's electric, intoxicating, but never quite safe. That's what draws me back.

But here, it's slow. It's whole. It's given freely, without need for control.

Worship with demons is different. This, with Pelatix, with Daylix, with these others, feels comfortable.

It's worship--gentle on the body and the souls--freely given, beautiful parts no one else ever sees.

Daylix's tongue traces the sensitive folds of my slit, a slow reverence. Every flick, every gentle press, rises me closer to the gods.

His touch cuts through the noise in my head. In this quiet, I'm not owned, not a secret, not a tangled mix of worlds. I'm just me--unguarded and whole. Enjoying everything the gods gave me in this body.

I draw lightly on my partners, breathing deep as Pelatix shifts down. She groans, dropping heavily in response, clinging to me tighter. Daylix rumbles into my clit, driving his tongue deeper. He grabs my hips to brace himself.

His hips jerk upwards, slapping into Pelatix as he drives again, knocking her off of my mouth. She holds me tight, lifting with each of his thrusts, surrendering fully to him and the moment.

His head rises as he grows more assertive, tongue moving in perfect rhythm with his hips. He takes command of both our worships, a steady, driving force. Pelatix and I cling to each other, our bodies intertwined, providing mutual support as he shifts our combined weight effortlessly.

Pelatix closes her eyes, resets her head on my shoulder as she croons. He moans into my groin, the vibrations send waves of intense heat through my body. Tightness begins low, my muscles clench around his tongue as he drills into me, seeking my release.

Pelatix braces her knees firmly beneath us, giving Daylix the leverage to sink into her with purpose. Each powerful thrust presses her into my arms, their rhythm pulling us closer in this sacred dance. I taste their intensity, time slipping away--two minutes left on the clock.

I draw a soft, breathy whisper from each of them, just enough to drive them closer. Daylix tips over. Pelatix gasps, returning to my mouth. 'Again.'

I smile, drawing more from her reserves. Daylix roars, driving home. Pelatix presses her lips to mine, her tongue thanking me for the boost as her body tightens.

Their energies flow into my reserves, and I release control. Muscles tighten, heat rushes, hot and thick as I climax with them.

The three of us, in perfect harmony--passing on our prayers to the gods, if they're listening.

Daylix falls back to the floor, limp, satiated, exhausted. I overflow, so I offer a small energy drink to both my partners.

Pelatix's eyes widen. 'Reverentiam tibi do, Sanator Mundi.'

I climb down from Daylix, moving beside him. I bow to Pelatix. 'You give me too much honour.'

So yeah--as a secret succubus, I'm kind of a gods' touch-bearer in these settings. A conduit. A bridge between release and prayer.

Jigger spurts his own private prayers but the three others just keep going--chasing that moment.

Thirty seconds to go.

I cross the space and lay my hands on the guys--Lerya and Den--drawing slowly, deliberately, before slamming it all back in. Both burst almost simultaneously. Peanut winks a private thanks.

She's usually first to send off her prayers. Always politely sticks around until her partners finish their devotions.

Daylix passes around the wipes as we get dressed, bantering about our lives. The bell chimes. Right on time. Not a second wasted. Not a breath missed.

This group always finishes together. Always has since I joined the company. It gives our little worship circle a kind of sanctity. Fifteen minutes of devotion, like a sacred smoko break. One shared pulse.

Other groups take their time. Draw it out. But not this one. Or our wages are docked.

I keep us on time. On rhythm. I make sure every devotion lands--clean, complete, within the clock.

The others let me fly under the radar. Quiet nods, gentle gratitude. But never a word.

Until now.

Pelatix sees me. Names me. Old-school, Undertowner style. The real language.

As we linger, the last to leave, I press my hand on her arm. 'You can't say anything about me out there. We don't mention that here in the city--not to outsiders, not around other species.'

Pelatix smiles. 'I got the induction, Zee. Don't worry.' Her grin broadens. 'Would you worship with me one-on-one?'

I let my eyes glide down her body in appreciation. 'I'd love to.' I give her my number.

I can't wait to feel her body shudder under my embrace. Make her mine. Maybe in the way that you make me yours.

My heart quickens at the thought.

I meet up with you after my shift today.