The Demon's Choice 02: Sarah's Tale

Bored, bored, bored. That was the biggest problem with eternity; the boredom. And the lack of company, of course. Those downstairs shunned him as a traitor to his own kind, and those upstairs wouldn't accept him as they didn't believe his kind could change. He just wanted to make life better for people. What was wrong with that? The book told him who needed help; all he did was make it happen. He wandered over to the leather bound book on the desk and idly flicked through the musty pages until one caught his eye. The clear, hand written entry read:

Sarah Anne Jackson. 31 years. 5'8" tall. Mid-brown hair. Divorced – no partner. Lacking appetite for adventure.

Accusation – Accepter of the mundane. Remedy – Excitement.

He smiled to himself and slipped the glove from his pocket. At least humans talked to him, however briefly.

***

For Sarah, it'd been one of those days to round off one of those weeks, but at least she was done by lunchtime and the weekend beckoned; a quick Friday afternoon shop for something nice to cheer her up and she'd be ready to go. A wander around the stores, taking in the buzz of the crowds making their way around town, heading for coffee shops and homes, and she felt her spirits starting to lift. After a week like that, she needed something special, but it'd probably just end up as drinks with the girls, maybe some chat with a cute guy, and a night that didn't quite make the mark. Oh well, she thought.

Still on the emotional see-saw of up and down, Sarah found herself in her favourite store, thumbing through the racks for something that caught her eye. It wasn't long before she had a handful of new tops, and was heading for the fitting rooms. The assistant looked slightly bored as she checked the number of items and gave her a tag to take with her, but then she was probably waiting for the weekend to start too. Looking down the row of cubicles, she selected one of the middle ones and checked to see if it was locked. No. Good.

Stepping inside and turning to lock the door behind her, she hung her prospective purchases on the rail on the back of the door, but before she could decide which to try first, the lights flickered erratically, then went out completely. It was a few moments before the lights came back on, but there was no alarms going off or signs of panic, so she carried on regardless. Taking the blue top and holding it in front of her, Sarah turned around to face the mirrors in the cubicle. Which weren't there. Neither was the cubicle.

She stared blankly at the scene before her, which couldn't be real. There was a room in front of her, about 16 feet square, with oak panelled walls, and lavishly furnished. Wall lamps gave a pleasant light, and facing her on the far wall, was a simple, plain, office door, with a lever type handle. The door looked out of place. To the left of the door was a small table with three delicately carved wooden boxes on top, and a tall candle burning behind each box.

To the right, a creature in a full length hooded robe sat in an ornate chair, its heavily booted feet on a small coffee table. It seemed to be human in shape, but the depths of the robe hid any other features it might have had. Her blood froze as the hood turned to regard her. It raised its hand and beckoned, and as it did so, the sleeve of the robe slid back, revealing a heavily tattooed forearm. The details of the tattoos seemed to writhe as Sarah tried to look at them, but something in her mind told her that she really didn't want to see them anyway. However, she found her attention focused on the hand itself, or rather what it was wearing. It seemed to be a type of glove, the back being made up of fine metal links, fastened at the wrist, and joining onto silver filigree fingers, with articulated joints. The fingers ended in solid silver fingertips, with nails that tapered into lethally sharp points.

"Ah, so you finally showed up then? About time too," came a voice like warm velvet from the unseen form within the hood. "Have you any idea how much effort it takes to hold somewhere like this together? No, of course you don't. Tsk, mortals! Well, you're here now. I presume you have questions?"

Sarah struggled to believe what was happening in front of her.

"Am I dead?" she asked, holding the blue top like a protective shield, and not understanding why she hadn't screamed.

"No, far from it. Death isn't my department. Anything else?"

"What on earth is all this? What the hell is going on?" Her shock started to give way to indignation.

"All this? Let me explain. I have brought you here to a convenient waiting room, for a very specific purpose, which I shall explain shortly. Is this place real? Yes and no; but perhaps we should just say it exists for now," replied the creature. "Who and what am I? My name is no business of yours, as it may allow you some power over me. You may call me 'Demon', which I think will be adequate for now, and also a sufficiently accurate description. Now the reason that you're here is that it's come to my attention that you've been having a dull time of things recently, you've not been making the most of your personal curiosity, and neglecting your duty to experience every pleasure you possibly can. Now this simply isn't good enough, and it is my self-appointed task to do something about that. There are things you've often wondered about but never dared try, sensations you've never dreamed about, things to be done just for the pure pleasure of experiencing them! You could be such a naughty girl if you really tried. There is a saying where I come from that life is wasted on the living. Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you; quite the opposite, in fact. Today, you have a chance to do some living. "

"Or I could just walk out," she replied, feeling for the door behind her.

"Sorry, not possible. That door only exists in the shop, not in this room I'm afraid. The only exit is in front of you."

A quick glance behind revealed no door, just wood panelling. "Ok, what are you going to do to me?" she asked, beginning to get a little nervous.

"Me? Oh, I'm not going to do anything to you. Look, these are the rules. You take a key from one of those boxes, unlock the door, and leave. You experience the reality behind it, and then you go home. It's as simple as that."

"What's behind the door?"

"That's up to you. Each box has a name, and contains two keys. The box named 'Submission' has a red key called 'Mistress', and a blue key called 'Slave'. The box named 'Sensual' has a green key called 'Tame', and a yellow key called 'Wild'. The box named 'Adventure' has a white key called 'Games', and a black key called 'Bizarre'. Each key unlocks a different experience, and I don't get to know what each of them will give you. Choose carefully, as you will always get what you ask for, but it may not be what you expect. Should you come here again, you may choose a different key or the same one as this time, but the same key may not give the same experience next time. Now we have met, we have a connection, and whenever you wish to return, you need only call me to mind, and I will bring you back. It is time to choose," he explained.

"And if I refuse?" Sarah asked.

The Demon sighed. "Then a choice would still have been made. In that instance, I get to unlock the door with my own key, which would take you into a reality from within my own head. Before you do that, you must understand that I am, in fact, completely insane. Few have tried it, and even fewer have survived. The human body just isn't built to take that sort of punishment. No, you must choose. Enjoy the experience for its own sake, and don't worry about the morality of any of it, you can behave however you like, do whatever you wish, act out of character, you will feel none the worse for it. Choose now."

Sarah walked to the table and looked down at the boxes. They were quite beautiful, named as he'd described, and if he was to be believed, contained such possibilities.

But which key would she choose?

"Oh, and by the way," added the Demon, "you might want to get a move on. As I said earlier, it takes a considerable effort to maintain this room in our current reality, and even I can't hold it indefinitely. At that point, it will revert back to its own true reality, which is currently a watery grave at the bottom of the North Atlantic Ocean. Since I'm immortal, that would be a mild, but wet, inconvenience for me, but you, unfortunately, are mortal, which means you would be crushed by the water pressure long before you had chance to drown..."

Shit. Which one?

With some trepidation, she decided to open the 'Submission' box and take out the blue 'Slave' key. It felt strange in her hand; heavier than she'd expected, and slightly warm. A shiver seemed to flow from the key, up her arm, and ruffled the hairs on her neck. She felt dizzy for second or two, but it soon passed.

"Ah, didn't I mention that?" he said, the humour detectable in his voice. "It seems that the keys connect to your inner self in some way, and that helps to shape your new reality. I don't understand exactly how it works, but they do say that you get used to it. Now, take the key, unlock the door, open it, and walk through. That's all there is to it."

"As simple as that then? Ok, and once I'm in this 'new reality', how do I get back? Do you come and get me?" she asked.

"Not me I'm afraid, my work is done, but when you're finished, you'll be brought back, don't worry. As I said, what's going to happen in there, and how it'll end, is out of my hands, but you'll be ok. Trust me."

Her options had reduced from limited to non-existent. As the door loomed before her, she took a deep breath, and inserted the key in the lock. It turned easily, and there was a faint click as the lock was released. She depressed the handle, shivering slightly at the touch of the cold metal, and pulled the door open. There was nothing beyond but blackness, slightly undulating, like a vertical wall of ink. There was no going back now, so she closed her eyes and the world seemed to spin away from her as she walked into the abyss...

... And onto what felt like a soft, short pile carpet. It was still pitch black, and when she opened her eyes, it made no difference. She stood still for a few moments to try and get a feel for where she was, but there was no light anywhere; no point of reference. A moment of panic rose to the surface as she reached back for the door behind her and found there was nothing there, but common sense seemed to kick in, and she managed to stay calm until she could find out where she was.

Sarah closed her eyes again, and let her other senses take in what they could of her surroundings. The floor seemed to be carpeted, as she'd figured out already, and the air was pleasantly warm. From somewhere, there was a faint sound of music, vaguely eastern in feel, but with a steady, rhythmic bass that pulsed hypnotically around the room. The room itself felt wide and open, as if the walls were some way off, and the ceiling seemed quite high. Some kind of hall perhaps? Her attention was caught by a sound some way off to her right, like there was somebody over there.

"Good evening, and welcome, my dear," said a man's calm voice, frighteningly close to her left ear. The shock sent a shiver down her back, as she'd been unaware of his approach.

"I do hope that you are better prepared than most of those that come here; they seem to have no idea what they've agreed to, and that soon leads to all kinds of trouble. I trust that you had chance to read through the rules before you signed the disclaimer?"

"What rules?" she asked, "And I haven't signed anything." Admitting that she didn't know where she was didn't seem like a good idea at the moment.

"Oh, that's unfortunate; the girl on reception should have done all this when you arrived. I shall deal with her later. Still, the disclaimer doesn't mean much anyway, and I can take a verbal agreement from you here," explained the voice. "The rules are quite simple; while you are here, you are considered to be mine to do with as I please, and are expected to follow my instructions. You will address me as 'Master' whenever we converse. No unreasonable requests will be made of you, although you may experience some discomfort or pain at times; this is only to be expected due to the nature of our business here. Should anything become too much for you, you need only say 'stop', and I will stop. You may refuse any instruction I give you and I will stop, but you will then be liable for a forfeit. The forfeit may be better or worse than the original instruction, at my discretion. You cannot refuse a forfeit. It's up to you to decide if it's worth the risk. Do you consent to the rules?"

Sarah was still no wiser as to what was going on, but the best course of action seemed to be to carry on. The funny thing was, she couldn't understand why she was just standing there and not screaming the place down. In fact, it was starting to feel quite exciting.

"Yes, I'm happy with them," she replied.

"Yes...?" The question hung in the air.

"Yes... Master?"

"That's better. Now then, if you take two steps to the right and extend your arm, you will feel a table with a dressing gown on it. Undress, leave your clothes on the table, and put on the dressing gown. When you are ready, I will call for you."

"How will I know where you are, Master?" she asked, suddenly feeling nervous about being left in the dark.

"You will know, my dear; you will know."

As she stepped across and found the table exactly where he said it would be, she realised that he must be using some sort of night vision gear, and could see her every move. It was disconcerting to think of him watching her undress, but part of her was getting interested in where this was going, and she couldn't help taking a little more time than was necessary in removing her clothes and putting on the gown. The gown itself was soft and warm, and fastened with a cord, which she tied around herself. She took a deep breath to calm herself.

"I'm ready, Master," Sarah announced to the blackness.

"Then let us begin," came the reply.

Slowly, a pool of light started to grow about 20 feet in front of her, lit by spotlights, high above. As the brightness increased and her eyes adjusted, she began to make out the details of what the lights were centred on. It was a large, metal frame, about 7ft high and 6ft square, with a variety of attachment points for ropes and shackles in strategic places. It had obviously been built with one purpose in mind; the restraint of its occupant.

"Come this way please," came the voice of the Master, from beyond the light, "and stop at the mark on the floor."

Sarah walked nervously up to the up to the lit area, and saw that a little way inside, there was a black square marked on the floor. Stepping into the square, she found herself completely bathed in light, its brightness hiding anything beyond. Two bare feet appeared silently across the threshold of the darkness, with black clad legs disappearing up into shadow. He was showing her his presence, but revealing no more than that. The feet began to move slowly around the edge of the light, carefully keeping the rest of him invisible, and as they moved from her field of vision, she kept her eyes fixed forward in front of her. Her senses told her that he'd stopped behind her, but it seemed an age before anything happened.

"Today, we are going to concern ourselves with pleasure, and the experiencing of it. Sound, touch, temperature, and even pain, can all lead to sensations of pleasure; we need only open ourselves to the possibilities."

Gentle fingers drew back her hair, and fingertips glided slowly from behind her ears to the nape of her neck. They slid forwards, down to her collar bones, before tucking under the edges of the dressing gown, and easing it over her shoulders. He remained behind her as he pushed the gown down to her elbows, exposing her shoulders and breasts, and effectively pinning her arms to her sides.

"You cannot even see me yet, but already I can hear your breathing start to quicken; a certain sign that this situation is beginning to excite you." His nails traced patterns across the skin of her back. "Even the lightest of touches feeds that excitement. Imagine what it will feel like when the stimulus is increased."

The fingers disappeared, and he moved around to finally face her. Out of curiosity, Sarah broke her gaze from the frame, and risked a glance at the Master. Tall, dark haired, fairly slim build, wearing black trousers and short sleeved shirt, he looked calm and in complete control. He moved closer, his eyes never leaving hers, then reached forward to undo the cord which secured the gown. Once freed, it fell from her, releasing her arms, and revealing her naked to his scrutiny. She was unsure exactly how she felt about being so exposed to a total stranger, but there was an excitement rising within her that she couldn't control, and she knew that it would inevitably turn to arousal. After a slow circuit looking her body up and down, he seemed satisfied, and stepped momentarily into the darkness. When he returned, he brought a wheeled cabinet of equipment. He selected a riding crop from the rack on the side, and flexed it experimentally.

"The sense of touch can do so much to enhance our pleasure, yet so many people neglect the simple stimulation of skin. It can be forceful."

He placed the pad of the crop under her chin, and raised her head.

"It can be sensual."

The pad moved slowly downward as he began to circle her again, caressing the curve of her right breast.

"It can be painful."

A flick of his wrist landed a light sting to her right buttock, making her gasp.

"A wonderful tool, the crop; more versatile than it appears."

The touch of it being drawn up her inner thigh, the crease of her buttocks, and the length of her back, sent a thrill down her spine. He finally brought it to rest on top of her left shoulder, keeping it there and pivoting around it, as he moved to her side. From the edge of her vision, she saw the pad flash around and down, and she quickly gritted her teeth for the impact. Which didn't come. It stopped a perfect half an inch from her left nipple. With infinite gentleness, he stroked the leather across the tip of her nipple, drawing it up into a hardening bud. She tried to control her reactions but her body had other ideas; the stirring deep inside was growing by the second, and the first signs of her arousal made themselves felt. Just as she started to relax, the crop twitched, shocking her nipple, and making her gasp.

"Good, you're beginning to see how much effect even the smallest of sensations can have. Move into the centre of the frame please, and stand still."

Sarah moved into the frame and found that there was another area marked on the floor. Positioning her feet inside, she waited; but not for long. There were sounds of him moving behind her.

"Raise your arms from your sides," came his instruction. As she did so, he took each wrist in turn, and fastened a leather cuff around it. The leather was firm but softly lined, and each cuff had an attachment ring. Using a shackle, he connected a rope to the left cuff, threaded the rope through a link on the frame, and drew her arm upwards, towards the metalwork. He tied the rope securely, and repeated the process for the right arm, leaving her just short of full stretch. Then he crouched and cuffed her ankles, attaching yet more ropes.

"Open your legs, please."

She shuffled her legs apart as best she could, given her limited movement, and with a light tug, he secured the ropes to the frame. The action of widening her stance lowered her body, taking up the slack in her arms, and held her spread-eagled across the frame. Helpless and immobile, she could only watch as he stood before her and removed his shirt.