A Deal with a Devil

Hello! This story is thoroughly SciFi/Fantasy, but I'd like to warn that it deals with themes of NonCon/Reluctance.

***

Tamaryst Coval paced back and forth along the dark, dirty iron bars of her cell, agitation written heavily into her features. She was taller than most women and as tall as most men, and she carried a toned, muscular frame. At the moment claustrophobia and desperation wore at her demeanor, charging her restless gait, carving the concerned furrow between her brows, and prompting the agitated flicking of her eyes back and forth across the cell.

The room was long and squat, composed of thick stones that were by and large covered by enough dirt, dried blood, and other sorts of matter that whatever color they used to be was impossible to discern. Columns of vertical iron bars stretched from wall to wall across the room, sectioning off about three quarters of the room into one massive cell while leaving a narrow hall-like section beyond, and it was on that wall that a thick wooden door had been placed. She was alone in the room - save for the cell's only other occupant, occupying the corner of the cell furthest from where she stood now, whom she was doing her best to ignore.

She had been trapped for nearly a day, and was growing increasingly certain that if she stuck around for much longer she wasn't likely to see many more. I came dozens of leagues, she moodily thought, eyes narrowing, and finally reached this awful city, and I didn't even make it through the gates before something went wro-

"What are you in here for?"

Tamaryst froze, eyes snapping open, though she didn't spin to face the woman in the corner. Mentally, she recalled her discreet inspection earlier. Dirty brown robe, drawn up and hiding most of her face. Several inches shorter than herself, frame hidden by the cloak but probably on the frail side. Unnatural gray skin that looked ashen and sickly - probably one of the Rethi people, belonging to one of the many tribes strung out through the southern desert. Rethi were mysterious and disconcerting, but she couldn't remember hearing about them being dangerous warriors, and particularly not their women. Good. But still, this other woman was a criminal. Dangerous.

"Well come on, then. If we don't begin talking you're going to wear a hole in the floor pacing back and forth," the stranger patiently said.

And her voice was unbelievably pleasant, Tamaryst decided. It was a smooth, rounded contralto with an archaic sort of accent that gave the words a sense of authority despite the warm tone. She straightened up, spun around, and lifted her chin.

"Murder," she claimed, warily padding closer to the woman in the corner. The word came out strained, obviously fraught with nerves, and she clamped her jaw down. She didn't need this other person knowing how unsettled she was. She halted a few feet away from the robed figure, for the first time noticing the slim dark markings upon the floor that surrounded that corner of the room, and took a closer look at her partner in conversation. Her features were partially shadowed by the hood, but it was clear she had dull golden eyes that verged a little nearer to orange than to brown. Of course, she thought dryly, if she has gray skin, why not golden eyes? She could also see traces of black hair, but it was hard to tell how long it was. It also looked a bit greasy, suggesting she'd been here for some time. "Why are you in here?" she asked in return.

"I haven't done anything at all," the cloaked woman answered, sounding miffed. "And I'm in here because they're worried about what I will do. And frankly, I don't really like the idea of being in here any more than you seem to." Her lips curled up into an almost predatory grin as she continued, "I don't think you'll start liking your confinements any more as time goes on, either. There's only one thing they do to murderers around here, you know, and that's murder them back. They usually do that sort of thing around noon." Her head twisted slightly, considering the tall, recessed window in the wall opposite before finishing, "That gives you, what... Two hours?"

Tamaryst blinked twice, rapidly, and swallowed. She had assumed that the local authorities would probably decide on executing her if she didn't escape, but hearing it out loud made her face that fact far more directly than she'd been doing earlier. Shit, she thought. How am I supposed to get out of this? It wasn't even my fault. She pulled back a step to resume her agitated pacing, but before she could fully move away the other woman's hand darted forward to take hold of her wrist. The woman's fingernails were long and painted black, and her grip was weak enough that it wasn't threatening; Tamaryst could break free easily. Cagily, tensing, she glanced up from her captured wrist to study the other woman's face.

"I can get you out of here," came the other woman's promise. Tamaryst stared. "Oh yes," her cell-mate continued, "Easily, even."

"Then why are you still in here?"

The woman's grin deepened. "Because I've needed someone else to help," she replied. "I've needed you. As you can see, crime isn't very prevalent around here right now. And I think they've been keeping the few male criminals they've received somewhere else."

Tamaryst's heart sank. She jerked back roughly to snap her wrist free from the other woman's hold, eyes dropping to re-evaluate the slim markings on the ground. What she had first thought the work of some bored prisoner awaiting his fate now seemed far too organized and intricate for such an explanation, and though she didn't recognize the patterns she figured the design was some form of barrier for the woman - no, demon - in front of her. When she looked back up the demon's grin was still just as wide as before, and there was an inquisitive light in its amber eyes.

"I don't make deals with demons," She tersely informed it, pivoting away.

"You haven't even heard my terms yet," came the faintly-amused reply, but she had already begin to stalk for the far part of the cell. Upon reaching it, she began to pace again.

—

An hour passed. No guards entered or even opened the solid door allowing entry into the room, and Tamaryst guessed that the lack of any observation or inspection was due to the demon's presence. She continued to pace, tried to keep from sending the occasional glance over to the other part of the cell, and thought. There were no imperfections to the cell - it was simple and sturdy. The guards would not treat her lightly when they came for her, and unarmed she didn't have a chance of fighting her way out of the building, much less out of the city. There was nowhere to hide, and no way to run. The only person for several leagues in any direction who had even the slightest inclination to help her wasn't even an actual person, and was staring at her with an unnerving sense of amusement as she paced. Wetting her lips with her tongue and sucking in a sharp breath, she pivoted about and marched back over to the demon.

"What terms?" she asked shortly, warily eying it. It laughed at her brightly, and far too pleasantly for a demon, before reaching up to gently pull back the hood obscuring its face. Tamaryst's eyes widened - its features were all feminine sharpness and authority, and might have looked beautiful if it weren't for the hint of sallow coloration to its gray skin, and the gaunt thinness that made it look as though the demon were starving. A short, upturned, black horn with a narrow point protruded from either side of its forehead, and its dark hair was loosely tucked back behind its shoulders, unpooling as the hood was removed.

"I thought you didn't deal with demons," it replied smugly.

"Shut up," she snapped, fidgeting uneasily. "Just... What terms?"

"Alright," the demon relented with a meager shrug, head bobbing aside and then back up in an indulgent gesture. "I guess your time is running short, after all." Then it began to amble around the narrow limits of the markings upon the ground, head turning smoothly to keep its gaze on Tamaryst as it moved. "You need help getting out of here alive," it observed. "And I need help getting out of here any time soon. Tell me, first... Where are you from?"

She stared at it. Catching herself before demanding how that was relevant, she sucked in a shallow breath, held it, and answered stiltedly, "I am part of of the Coval tribe. From the Far Plains. Near the foothills." The demon paused in its ambling, lips thinning as they pursed, and released a soft 'hm'.

"I know where you mean," it decided. "Around twenty-five leagues from here, yes?" She stiffly nodded. "Then my deal is this," it smoothly informed her, "as I know you will not surrender your soul. Enter a contract with me - I will take what I need from you and break us both free from here, then we will begin to travel for the Far Plains. When we arrive, I will release you from your servitude and you will be free."

"What?" Tamaryst demanded. "Of course not! You..." She cleared her throat. "Uh, you do what you have to do to get us both free, then we go our separate ways. Fair trade."

The demon's mouth twisted back into a smirk. Shaking its head, it answered with malicious humor, "This isn't about fair trade. It's about necessity." Waving a hand lazily, fingers curling into a loose fist, it said, "You have less than an hour to escape; I have an eternity. Now would be more pleasant than far into the future, but I don't mind waiting. Accept those terms or die."

Tamaryst swallowed, jaw bunching and unbunching as she stared at the implacable demon. Finally, with an angry snort, she asked, "At the end of this... I'll be intact?" The demon rolled its eyes, then offered a grudging wave of assent paired with a nod. "Then one final condition," she muttered quietly, voice tightening. "We can't change the terms afterward. You can't extend the time, even if I ask, and I can't promise you my soul. Nothing like that, alright?"

The demon laughed again and this time the sound was huskier, melodious enough that it sent a shiver down her spine. "Not much faith in your resolve?" it dryly asked her, teeth flashing in a smile. "I accept."

"You're a demon," she countered with a grimace, drawing herself forward to stand just outside the rune symbols on the prison floor. "Alright, then."

Before she could blink the demon had closed the distance between them, one hand stretching out to seize the front of her clothing in a fist. The earlier frailty she had felt from it now replaced by otherworldly strength, the succubus twisted around to pull Tamaryst past the markings, then shove her against the nearby wall hard enough that she was forced to blink away the resulting dizziness. "Tell me your name," it commanded, amber gaze searching her features.

"Tamaryst," she answered slowly, glancing from side to side and then back to the demon. Where had that strength come from?

"Tamaryst. That's a bit long, mm? How about Ryst? Well, Ryst..." It paused briefly, lifting an eyebrow and tightening its hold upon her as she began to protest. She stopped. "Well, Ryst," it repeated, leaning closer. "My name is Asiishma. You belong to me."

Tamaryst turned her head away from the demon, gaze fixing on the sturdy door that stood beyond the metal bars of the cell, leading out into the adjacent room. Temporary, she reassured herself, unclenching. This will be worth it. The air seemed a little sweeter as she drew in a breath, and it grew increasingly difficult to keep from focusing on the demon that was nearly pressed up against her. And suddenly it was pressed up against her, breath and lips grazing over her ear.

"It's a pity we don't have as long as I'd like," the demon murmured to her, free hand reaching forward to brush its knuckles along the side of her neck. "I think you're going to be a valuable little distraction, Ryst. But we're in a rush, so just be a good girl and stay still, hm?" As Asiishma spoke it lowered its hand further, fingers uncurling to let its palm possessively slide over her shirt, breast, and side.

Her eyes flared angrily at Asiishma's words, and she lifted a hand to shove at its shoulder, mouth opening to voice a protest. Before she could get any words out the succubus had deftly moved its own head back and aside, mouth sealing effortlessly to her opened lips. She reflexively jerked her head back, colliding with the wall she was pressed against in a soft thump, and before she could collect herself to turn her head away the demon had pursued her, tongue sliding into her mouth. The taste that filled her mouth caught her off-guard; the demon's saliva had a sweet tinge to it that made her mouth water in response, and as her lips and tongue suddenly grew more responsive her eyes fluttered shut at the heady sensation. Asiishma's tongue moved deeper, possessively seeking hers out. The action triggered a low groan that she urgently quelled, eyes squeezing more firmly shut to keep from finding the demon's face. Her hand, forgotten by her and intercepted by the demon, curled into a loose fist where it had been pinned against the wall.

The succubus' other hand gently released its hold on the front of Tamaryst's shirt, mirroring the path that its first hand had taken. Soon it reached the half-skirt of furs that hung about her waist, deftly slipping beneath them to palm against the soft leather trousers snugly fitted to her legs. There was no shyness in the demon's adventuring, and when Tamaryst clenched her knees together it uttered a soft laugh into their kiss, forcing a knee between hers and wedging her legs open wider, in order for its hand to begin grinding firmly against the leather over her groin. Just as her lungs started to burn the succubus broke the kiss, head dipping to kiss along the line of her jaw before finding her earlobe and teasing at it. She turned her head a little further to the side, lips agape as she sucked in breath and focused her thoughts. She's doing something to me. Spirits, I'm starting to burn up. She startled suddenly at the feel of cold fingers against bare skin, realized that the succubus was undoing the rows of string at the waistband of her trousers, and opened her mouth only to croak out a low moan when its cold hand delved beneath the trousers to firmly cup between her legs.

She shuddered. She did not favor women, and she maintained a healthy revulsion of the occult, but it had been a long time since she had had sex and there was no denying that the succubus' intoxicating assertiveness was getting to her. The heel of its palm gyrated firmly against her pubic mound, nestled against the dark mat of hair there, while its fingers remained together and gently massaged her labia. She'd already begun to dampen a little, and there was no hiding the arousal that was being steadily coaxed from her. Opening her eyes and blinking a few times to take stock of the demon, she met its intense gaze and then glanced down to avoid it. Her cheeks flushed a dark red at the sight of its hand rocking insistently between her legs, and she brought her free arm forward to try and push Asiishma away, but before she could finish the movement the succubus had eased up to press its frame firmly and completely against hers, close enough that instead of being able to push it away all she could do was limply settle her hand against the cloak on its back.

"You aren't getting anywhere with this charade," the demon purred with amusement, head hovering just in front of hers, lips almost grazing her mouth, amber eyes demanding her attention. "We both know you wouldn't lift a finger to stop me even if you could, little hunter. Just give in and enjoy it." She glowered at it and fought back another pleased shudder as its hand shifted more insistently, earning only a sultry laugh from the devil before it sealed its lips to her mouth and started another dominating kiss. Then two of its wet fingers curled upward, entering her without a shred of resistance and starting to press deeper inside her body. She let out a weak yelp at the sudden intrusion, hips bucking reflexively against the demon's hand and eyes rolling back at the intense surge of pleasure that shot through her frame. As she settled back against the wall the fingers inside her pushed up to the deepest knuckle, then began to withdraw and press back in again at a firm pace that had her core tightening down around them. The demon's palm had shifted lower, grinding against her clitoral hood with each inward thrust of its fingers and sending fresh waves of pleasure through her body.

In shamefully quick time Tamaryst's body began to tense up even more, frame arching away from the wall and rising onto the balls of her feet. Starved for air and overwhelmed by pleasure, she balled up the demon's cloak in her fist, pulling it tighter against herself and helplessly flexing her pinned arm as she uttered a ragged moan into Asiishma's mouth and came hard upon its fingers. A quiet laugh filled her mouth, and the demon carefully maintained the same practiced motions over and over to drag out the torrent of pleasure suffusing her body. As the sensations finally began to ebb it backed away from her, both hands pulling free as it took a few languid steps and watched her slump halfway down the wall before catching herself. Breathing deeply to catch her breath and dazedly opening her eyes, she reached down to begin re-fastening her pants only to freeze upon catching sight of the demon's hand.

Asiishma's hand was coated with slick moisture, but though that made her stomach sink and throat tighten her focus was on another detail. Earlier, its hand had appeared narrow and felt unhealthily narrow, despite its wiry strength. Now it looked entirely different; it was delicately formed, with slender fingers and respectably long, lacquered nails that she certainly hadn't felt moments before. The demon lifted its hand, two fingers slipping between its lips while its other arm twisted around to pull back the hood of its cloak. For a fraction of a second her eyes were trapped by the sight of its fingers being cleaned, but she pried her gaze upward to take in its facial features. A flush had barely darkened the demon's ashen cheeks, and the sickly pallor that had rested on its skin before had completely vanished, leaving a healthier quality to the dusky tone and bright amber eyes. Even its hair seemed more lustrous than she recalled.

She realized, then, that the demon was watching her bewildered inspection with open amusement. Letting both hands swing down to its side gently, it flashed her a bright-toothed smirk and said,

"Come now, pet, stop ogling - it's time to move. We have a baron to kill."