Goetic Justice

Some of the Seirim resumed their mesmerizing dancing as others watched, clapping in time with the slow rhythm as their sisters performed, Azazel apparently unwilling to participate but finding amusement in it nonetheless.

Nahash was eating a loaf of bread that looked as if it had been baked in an ancient or foreign style, spread with cheese and butter, taking bites of a plump fig as she went. These were earthly spirits, they reveled in the simplest of sensations, desiring nothing more than to explore the limits of their senses. Encouraged, Ryan followed suit, pulling away a strip of roasted chicken with his fingers and taking a bite of the succulent meat. It was cooked and seasoned to perfection, the white meat moist and warm, the skin peeling away with a satisfying crunch. It was like a taste of heaven, and he resolved to try a little of everything, Nahash draping an arm around his neck and she gulped down a goblet of pink liquid.

"Drink," she commanded, thrusting the cup into his hands. He took the goblet and raised it to his lips, a sweet nectar filling his mouth and his cheeks beginning to burn as its taste brought back a flood of sordid memories. It tasted exactly as she had the night they had made love, when she had used her powers to influence his perception, making her sexual fluids taste like the juices of a dozen fruits and berries. She leaned in and nibbled his ear gently, nuzzling the nape of his neck with her flat nose, fawning over him as she took back the cup and downed the last of the drink.

"What do you desire?" she asked. "Ales? Wines? Perhaps you wish to lay your head upon my lap while I feed you grapes?"

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" Ryan laughed, a pleasant shiver running down his spine as her warm lips kissed his neck.

"What would revelry be without drunken fumblings?"

She had become so uninhibited, the contrast between now and when she had been bound to Orobas was stark. This was the personality that Ryan had glimpsed in her rare moments of passion. She was a lush, flirting with him as if they had only just met. Ryan had rarely been on the receiving end of such advances, and it made his heart flutter.

"Our last encounter was so heated," she said, leaning over his shoulder from behind and pressing her fat breasts against his back as she plucked a peach from one of the decorative bowls. She bit into the soft flesh, letting the juice drip from her lips conspicuously, droplets of it landing on her bust. "To be given but a taste of carnal delight after so many centuries, it was like taking the merest sip of water after a millennia of thirst. Not enough to sate the desire, only enough to remind me of how much I was missing."

"The merest sip?" Ryan exclaimed as he turned to face her, lowering his voice in embarrassment as she smiled down at him and took another wet bite of her peach. "We did it to exhaustion."

"I have a lot of lost time to make up for," she replied, licking the fruit juice from her lips with her prehensile tongue. "And now that I am bound to you, I need not fear the scorn of Orobas. I can do as I please."

She raised the peach over him, and crushed it in her fingers, squeezing out the sticky juice and letting it fall to his neck. It trickled down his shoulder, then she discarded the squashed fruit on the ground and pulled open his jacket along with the shirt that he wore beneath it. She exposed him to the cool night air, leaning down to run her hot tongue across his skin, lapping up the syrupy juice and mouthing gently as she went. Her sinuous organ licked up the fluid that had pooled in his clavicle, biting his shoulder softly as she moved higher, her smooth tongue grazing his throat as he tried his hardest not to loose a gasp that might draw the attention of her sisters.

They were already looking, however, chewing on their respective choices of food as they watched with covetous eyes that shone like gold in the firelight. They could sense his emotions just as Nahash could, they didn't need to hear him to know that he was aroused and embarrassed, they didn't need to see him to know that his erection was straining against his jeans.

Nahash noticed that he was glancing at them, his cheeks burning almost as hot as the licking flames, and she turned her head to smirk at them.

"My sisters are seething with jealousy. The scent of a man is on the air, and yet they cannot have him. They cannot sate their lust, they must suppress their nature. Azazel has hidden this clearing from outsiders tonight, and so they cannot lure a mate of their own." She giggled salaciously, nipping his ear in her teeth as she whispered to him. "I had considered sharing you with them, would you have enjoyed that? I have endured the same drought that they have, I sympathize with their plight, they are my siblings after all. But now that I am bound to you, you are mine alone to enjoy."

She pulled away and thrust a foaming tankard of ale into his hands, sucking her fingers clean of peach juice.

"Drink, relax. You are among friends. These are your people now."

The other Seirim were dancing again, and the tempo of the music was rising, becoming jovial and festive as they pranced about and feasted.

Nahash was right, what did he have to fear? He was an exorcist now, the guest of honor, it was safe to let his guard down and chill out for a little while. He took a draw from the tankard, Nahash patting his shoulder in encouragement, laughing at his froth-mustache as he wiped it away with his sleeve.

"Okay," he said, "let's party like it's three-thousand BC."

***

The festivities continued late into the night, Ryan and his new Seirim friends growing drunker and more rowdy as the full moon slowly sailed across the starry sky, the food and alcohol replenishing itself almost the moment that it was consumed. As Ryan grew tipsy, his inhibitions slowly left him, even daring to attempt a dance with Nahash that ended in laughter all around when he was woefully unable to keep up with her graceful and inhumanly flexible moves.

More than once a curious Seirim had to be shooed away by a protective Nahash when they got too close to her prize, sneaking an arm around him and trying to draw him away from the group or tempting him with some new morsel of food that he had not yet tasted. They were accustomed to seducing mortals, and like teasing a hungry dog with a bone, Ryan's proximity seemed to ignite their more predatory instincts.

Nahash did not seem overly concerned, and though Ryan had no interest in anyone besides her, he had to admit that the female attention was a welcome boost to his confidence, even if it was more a result of their nature than his charms. He had never been much of a party goer. He always found that the loud music in clubs prohibited conversation, but the atmosphere at the Seirim bonfire was laid back, and their interactions were refreshingly simple.

Even Azazel joined in on the conversation, so much less intimidating when it was laughing at a joke or recounting a humorous story, Ryan quizzing the demons about ancient history and magick as they probed him for details about the modern era in turn. They were greatly amused when he pulled out his cellphone and attempted to explain the internet to them using the immaterium as a metaphor, a place where thoughts and ideas could be instantly transmitted between people.

He learned of life in the ancient world, from Sumeria and the fertile Indus valley, to the arid plains and mountains of what were now Syria and Israel. The Seirim had been all over the world, called to wherever belief in them was strongest, feeding on that energy to sustain their corporeal forms. They had journeyed to the lush forests of central Europe and to the shores of the Mediterranean where the primitive Pagan tribes had worshiped them as spirits of the wilds, giving them the name of Satyr.

They seemed to have gotten on particularly well with the ancient Greeks, talking fondly of wild feasts and orgies, the Hellenic attitude towards sex and revelry had been very compatible with the needs of the Seirim.

Ryan had attempted to ask Azazel more about the fall and the deluge, but the Watcher was evasive, and so he had dropped the subject fairly quickly. He still wasn't sure what the creature was, an evil devil who had tempted humanity into sin, or merely a romantic whose punishment had far exceeded the severity of its crimes? Ryan could sympathize with the latter, as he now found himself bound to a spirit whom he loved dearly, apparently at odds with the laws of that same deity.

Azazel was not burning in a lake of fire as the religious texts that Ryan had studied had claimed, however. It was here, throwing parties with its offspring and sharing stories around a bonfire as they clustered about its feet to listen.

Ryan had been an agnostic for as long as he could remember. It wasn't that he didn't believe in a deity, but just that his life had been too hectic to afford him much time for contemplation. His entire life from the moment he had hit puberty had been consumed by study and work, leaving little room for much else, including spiritual pursuits. Now the existence of such a God was confirmed, and it made sense from a logical standpoint. These demons and spirits drew their power from worship and faith, and as the object of worship of several major religions, this Abrahamic God must be awash with power. Ryan had seen far lesser entities perform feats of prescience and read the hearts of men, amongst other things, and so it was not unreasonable to assume that such a being might be near omnipotent.

Did this entity judge, and if it did, did it judge based on actions or on intent? Was it the only one of its kind? Did it care about the lives of mortals at all? Was it even remotely similar to what was described in the religious lore that surrounded it? Perhaps as Nahash had advised, it was better not to think about such things, he should simply live his life and let the cards fall where they may. Death was inevitable, and his questions would all be answered eventually, one way or another.

And so Ryan lost himself in the revelry for a while, dancing and feasting with ancient spirits and fallen angels until even the roaring bonfire seemed to ebb and wilt as the night dragged on. Though the food replenished itself as if by magick and the wine flowed as if sourced from some bottomless ocean, even the Seirim slowed their gorging and drinking as they grew tired. Most were hopelessly drunk, but they were all happy and satisfied, splitting off into groups of three or four and collapsing onto furry pelts that were spaced around the fire at irregular intervals. Ryan was fairly certain that those had not been there before, but he couldn't be sure, it was as if his memories of the things that Azazel conjured had somehow been tampered with. It felt like déja-vu.

The great beast itself seemed to have departed, perhaps it had other places to be, and Nahash led Ryan towards one of the vacant pelts. They collapsed onto the velutinous fur together, it felt like wolf fur or maybe a bear hide rug against his skin. Although the autumn air was cool, the fire warded off the worst of it. It has gotten low, and it lit the clearing in a dull, orange glow. It was perfect, probably by design, just bright enough and just warm enough to be comfortable.

He lay down beside Nahash, and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him tight against her body as she was wont to do. He sank his face into her ruff of feathery wool, breathing in the comforting scent of her body, his muscles aching from all of the clumsy dancing that had so amused his hosts. Nahash stroked his hair, neither of them quite as wasted as some of her kin had gotten, but pleasantly drunk. The rise and fall of her bust was hypnotic, her slow, deep breaths inviting him to close his eyes and let his fatigue overcome him. She had other ideas, however. He shivered as he felt her dull claws draw trails down his spine, sneaking beneath his clothing as the flames crackled behind them.

"Listen," she whispered, and Ryan strained his ears. He blushed as a low moan pierced the night, rising on his elbows to glance over Nahash as she rested on her side to see their immediate neighbors writhing as they were illuminated by the firelight.

Two of her comely sisters were occupying a pelt not five feet away, the head of one buried between the meaty thighs of the other as she held onto her horns, moving rhythmically. He couldn't make out a great deal, but in a way that only made the scene more erotic, his imagination filling in the blanks as one of the Seirim pushed her long tongue deep inside the other.

"In the absence of mortals with which to sate their lust, they set upon each other," Nahash explained. "I cannot fault them for it, I have felt that great need myself. It must be hard to possess a material body after so long and to refrain from indulging in it, testing its capacity for pleasure and sensation."

As he looked about the smoldering fire he realized that there was similar activity coming from every pelt, squirming piles of Seirim whose thrusting bodies were cast in an orange light, deep shadow teasing him as it obscured the sordid details.

"Shall we join them?" Nahash whispered, her fingers wrapping around the growing bulge in his pants.

"Won't they see us?"

"They're too occupied to notice, and besides, you are among the Seirim now. Forget the prudish ways of your people and heed the call of the wild."

She slipped her fingers beneath his belt, letting his erection rest in her soft palm, holding it gently as it throbbed and flexed. She watched his turmoil with her golden eyes, his lust growing as his cheeks burned red, his member beating in her hand as his hips moved almost imperceptibly to grind against her smooth skin. Gradually his arousal overcame his embarrassment, the wanton moans and wails of the Seirim that echoed over the crackling fire goading him on, and he fumbled with his belt as she smiled knowingly at him.

He tugged off his clothing and discarded it, the fur pelt soft against his bare skin, the two of them melting into one another as hands roamed across flesh and lips sought out their counterparts. Their bodies locked together, their arms wrapped around each other, writhing on the silky fur that lay beneath them as they embraced.

Nahash had haunted Ryan's dreams since their last night together, she was like a drug. The sudden explosion of passion and then its jarring absence had driven him half crazy during the days that they had been apart. He ran his hands over her familiar curves, feeling her feathery wool beneath his fingers, taking handfuls of her meaty hips and delving his digits into her copious bust as his erection pushed into her plump belly.

"One would think that you had missed me," Nahash chuckled, and Ryan lifted his face from between her breasts to gaze up at her. He felt wild, excited, and more than a little drunk.

"Don't hold back," he stammered, "I'm ready for you this time."

Her smile turned salacious, and she batted her long lashes at him, no doubt drinking in his anticipation and his hunger for her.

"Then let us consummate this binding."

A wave of warmth washed over him, a kind of dull pleasure in itself, those amber eyes of hers seeming to glow all the brighter as he lay on his back and she loomed over him. He saw the stars above her horned head, her pale features and white fur framed against the black sky, real this time as she was lit by the bonfire. It all seemed to recede as he watched it through the haze of that smoldering pleasure, the trees and the clouds melting away, even the light of the fire driven off until all that remained was Nahash.

"Listen to my voice," she said in her husky contralto, her words creeping up his spine like questing fingers. How could he not? Even her voice was dripping with sexuality, deep and feminine, breathy in a way that made his heart leap. He felt as if she could bring him to climax with nothing more than a whisper in his ear.

"Nothing is forbidden, no desire taboo, no fantasy too indulgent. I'm going to run your body through its paces in a way that only a Seirim can, taste every exquisite emotion that you feel. I will dine on your pleasure as if it were the ripest and most succulent fruit."

He felt hands on his skin, too many of them to be hers alone, the same trick that she had played on him last time. It had taken him by surprise back then, the sensations had been too intense and too unfamiliar, but now he welcomed them.

Fingers lightly brushed his chest and belly, his muscles twitching at their touch, roaming hands stroking him all over as if he was encircled by a team of masseuses. He knew that there would be nothing there if he opened his eyes and so he kept them closed, his imagination feeding into the sensation as his mind's eye conjured slim fingers attached to buxom Seirim. Fingers entwined with his own, hands pinning him to the pelt, more of them gripping his ankles to stop his ceaseless writhing as the phantom digits set his nerves on fire with their teasing.

It was almost too much to process. When he reacted to one rub or gentle scratch, there were two more to distract his senses, his spine arching off the rug as he felt dull claws drag down it. They ran through his hair, teased his neck, played lightly over his thighs and belly. They seemed to touch him everywhere but his member, now rigid and aching, longing for a fist to grip it and start pumping.

He felt fingers delve into the flesh of his thighs and ass, becoming more wanton in their explorations, two hands cradling his warm face as a third wrapped around his throat. Could Nahash feel through these hands, he wondered, was this as much for her benefit at for his?

He twitched as he felt fingers trace his wrists from the heel of his hand down to his elbow, he was surprisingly sensitive there. The same gentle touch drew swirling shapes on his ribs and belly, his brain sparking as if it were short-circuiting. He was dazed, he couldn't think straight, he could never have imagined that she would be capable of so much using only her hands. Albeit, a great many of them. One of the fingers slipped into his mouth, and he curled his tongue around it obediently, his hips thrusting into the air in desperation as her digits brushed the skin just above the base of his erection.

Even with his eyes closed, he could feel Nahash's presence, sensing her golden stare as she looked down covetously at his tortured body. He could imagine the cruel smile that was no doubt spreading across her lips.

As if to answer the thought, he felt a kiss on his neck, lingering and wet as he loosed a low sigh. It mouthed and bit gently, a long, winding Seirim tongue escaping to taste the sweat on his skin. From the opposite side came another, planting more tender kisses on his shoulder, crawling up his jugular to pinch his ear between its teeth.

He shivered, swearing that his face might set on fire as the two disembodied mouths licked and teased, their warm breath blowing on his ears as they spoke in unison.

"Hear my voice, sweet boy, feel my touch..."

He felt a palm cup his face, turning it towards one of the mouths, its warm lips pressing against his and its serpentine tongue slithering forth. It tasted just like Nahash, and its technique was identical, Ryan leaning into it and doing his best to meet the lurid embrace as the organ coiled and twisted in his head. His efforts were distracted by the second ghost lover, whispering obscenities in his ear as it paused to bite and suck, the roving hands that caressed his body keeping up their pace.

"This pleasure is but a taste of what I can do to you," the second murmured as the first licked his inner cheeks and pushed into his throat, her embrace growing more sexual and aggressive. "Soon these tongues will paint your body, their lips will roam across your skin. Have you ever imagined what it might feel like to have half a dozen women share your manhood between them? Would you ever have dared, or was the idea so self-indulgent that you couldn't even entertain it?"