Awakening Her Demon

Was she mad believing she could summon a demon or even more insane if it worked?

Photos copyright: The Author

This story is a prequel to the series The Invitation. Isabella has discovered that she is the last in a long line of women that have guarded the dark, erotic secret of what lies hidden in the estate. Now she wants to set her demon free and there is only one way to do it.

Awakening Her Demon

Isabella walked across the lawn, picking her way carefully in the dim moonlight. The night was sultry and the grass felt warm beneath her bare feet. She stopped in front of the wall of creepers that barred the way into the cave. Earlier that day she had pushed some aside, cut them in places so that they still hid the entrance, but now parted like heavy curtains.

She stood staring up at the sky and breathing deeply, unaware that she was in the same pose as her ancestor a century before. Her fingers trembled as she unhooked her dress. She slipped it off, folded it carefully and hid it beneath some of the foliage. She wore nothing underneath. Nervously, she fingered the pendant that hung around her neck.

Naked as the texts had instructed, she took a last deep breath, pushed the greenery aside and entered the cave. It was dark inside and she almost tripped over the lantern she had placed on the floor earlier. Crouching down, she fumbled for the matches. Willing her hands not to shake as she struck one and lit the wick.

The light flickered off the walls. Looking up, she noticed two metal rings hammered into the stone and hung the lantern from one of them. She walked into the centre of the space. Something glittered on the floor close to the wall. Bending down, she brushed the dust off it. It was one of the crystals. She looked across to the opposite side. There was another there, almost hidden in the dust.

Standing in the centre, behind the line between the crystals, she spoke the words of an ancient language that she had memorised from the texts. Nothing happened: what had she expected, a flash of light, a thunderclap? This was stupid, she was standing, naked, in a cave in the grounds of her house, trying to summon a demon. Was she mad for believing it would work or even more insane for doing it, if it did?

She sensed movement and a dark shape appeared at the end of the cave. “I am summoned,” a voice growled.

He stepped forward into the light. Isabella gasped. A tall, dark, muscular male figure stood looking intently at her. His shape was human but his chin and his ears appeared more pointed. His skin was dark, with an olive greenish tint. Her gaze swept down his torso and she froze. He was definitely male: his rod stood out from his body, a long, thick and very solid column of flesh was pointing directly at her. She was suddenly very conscious that they were both naked.

Isabella straightened her back and lifted her chin. She could feel her breasts jutting forward, her nipples swelling and hardening. It was the cool night air, she told herself as she stared back into fearsome red eyes.

“Who are you? What are you? She said, trying to give her voice some authority, her fingers straying to the pendant around her neck.

“Some call me a Satyr, in my other form, a Faun. I am a spirit of this place.”

“Your other form?”

“I have not assumed that since one of your ancestors imprisoned me and banished my sister.

“Your sister?”

“We are of the same kind. Both born of unions between demons and humans.”

“You were benevolent in your other form, and you are powerful in this one,” Isabella said. “ I have been reading my ancestors’ journals. They say that you can bring great change to the land.”

“That is true, but I am imprisoned here.”

“And this, she lifted the pendant, and the power of my ancestors means we are… I… am your Mistress. You must do my bidding,” she paused. “Even if I release you.”

He tipped his head to one side and, for a moment, his eyes dimmed. “I cannot pass the stones. I do not have the power.”

“What do you need?” Isabella asked.

“I need to feed.” He turned, his organ swung towards her and lifted slightly.

“Oh,” Isabella gulped. She had read about her ancestors’ rituals but had not been totally convinced that they were necessary or had really happened.

“Do not fear me.” His voice was quieter now. “I draw power from the act, but do not extinguish my acolytes. I need to mate with them many times, each time they recover and the next time I draw a little more, until I grow stronger.”

Something stirred inside her. She had not been with a man since Ralf’s death. Not that there had not been offers, it was just that their lovemaking had been so - adventurous. He had been ten years older than her: why was it always acceptable for a man to be experienced, but not a woman? Something deep inside her had wanted to preserve that feeling of elation, that deep love, the sensation of their bodies and minds in union. She had not wanted to taint that with another.

What she felt now had nothing to do with love, not even desire; this was a deep, carnal, lust. The desire to be… what was the term Ralf had told her the soldiers in the trenches used? Fucked, that was it. She wanted to be fucked, to rut like the animals in the field.

The chapel. She remembered reading that it was closer to the stones. He was less powerful there. “Come,” she turned toward the mouth of the cave.

The figure looked down. “The crystals,” he said. “They are holding me here.”

“How do I know you won’t attack me if I remove them?” Isabella’s voice trembled.

“I need you,” he said. “I am imprisoned within the stones. You are a descendant of those who confined this form of me here. Only you can bring me what I need to set me free.”

Isabella thought for a moment and then bent and picked up the crystals. Quickly, she walked through the screen over the cave’s entrance and down towards the chapel. She could sense him following her but she figured that, since she was still alive, what he had said was true.

Her nipples were hardening, she could feel her body trembling, her sex was pulsing, beginning to flow as she walked. Each step seemed to take more and more effort. Was she really going to do this? She knew she was; she had accepted that when she picked up the crystals. She clenched her hand and felt the jagged surfaces pressing into her palm.

When she reached the stone altar at the end of the ruins, she placed the crystals on its top and turned to face him. He was close, his eyes still blazed and she could feel his breath on her. She reached out and ran her fingertips over the smooth skin of the head of his organ. Then they strayed down the length of the shaft, brushing the ridges and veins, feeling its strength and power.

The fingers of her other hand strayed between her lips. They felt the liquid as if she had applied oil there. When she pressed them against her bud they lit a fire inside her. Lust surged through her, it overwhelmed her; she wanted to be taken, to submit to a primaeval act, like the beasts of the field had done for aeons.

Turning to face the altar, she bent forward. The pendant nestled securely between her breasts as they flattened against the hard stone. She spread her legs, her fingers still playing between them, opening her lips, inviting him in.

In one swift motion he was inside her, filling her, pushing her muscles apart. Then he was plunging into her, pounding the tops of her thighs against the granite edge of the altar. Her body shuddered with each thrust, grinding her swollen nipples against the sandpaper rough stone of the top.

Her fingers pressed on her pearl. A wave of darkness punctuated by flashes of lightning surged through her. The storm inside her built to a crescendo as she felt herself being lifted into the night on a crest of euphoria. It powered through her until it poured from her mouth and she screamed into the night.

She felt energy seeping from her. It was as if she was sinking into the stone, slipping beneath the earth. In a daze she clung desperately to the pendant lest this was just some ruse to take the power it held from her. He slipped out of her and she felt him moving away.

Pushing herself up from the altar, she managed to look over her shoulder. He was twenty paces away, facing towards her as if awaiting her dismissal. “I will bring more,” she said.

“Thank you, Mistress,” he bowed and then turned and disappeared into the night.

***

The Invitation begins here

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