The Invisible Hand Pt. 04

"Please, demon mine, please fuck me!" I beg, because begging is the best lube in the world.

"What are you going to do in exchange?" he teases me.

"Everything! Anything!" I promise, meaning every word.

"I'm going to hold you to that," he enigmatically murmurs, chuckling, just when his member rudely invades me.

I never get to answer: his left hand, still smelly with my pussy juices, shuts my mouth. Rammed. That's the proper description of what he does to me next. Helpless, I close my eyes, lulled by the sound of my back bumping on the complicit wall, I let him bring me to hellish heaven, until he can touch my screams with the palm he put on my quivering lips.

He's not finished. My nape is pushed towards his shoulder and all of a sudden the familiar pressure of the wall disappears. With his erect member still inside of my ecstatic sex and all my limbs hugging all of his body tightly, he carries me somewhere. There is no doubt in me when he lets me fall, only determination to have my legs spread as wide as I can to welcome him when I land.

The world spins, shifts and is flipped upside-down as he adjusts my limp body to please him better. My head now is hanging from the edge of the bed, my mouth wide open to host his cock, which soon enough invades my throat, going as deep as it wants. I don't even try to slow him down with my hands. Resigned to my fate, they are now just absentmindedly playing with my nipple rings. A warm wave sweeps my body as he bends on me. All his weight is now used to better shove his member in me, but I only begin to gag when his tongue licks the length of my pussy. The pleasure he gives me, though, puts me again in a trance, allowing my throat to relax and let him have all the fun he likes.

His rhythm is increasing. I'm cumming again! A terrible chill ruins it, when he gets up and rams my head harder.

Smack!

I'm screaming in his cock, so hard that I must feel like a human vibrator on his sensitive rod, when he slaps my needy cunt the first time.

And again!

He chuckles and keeps hitting me with one hand and holding my neck with the other, undoubtedly to feel the bulge of his glans bumping in my throat, while I gag, splutter and cum hard, quickly followed by him.

It takes a while before I let him extract his sex from me: hugging his hips tight, I make sure to slurp all of his juice.

"Go clean yourself and lock my treasure for me, pet," he orders, kneeling in front of me to kiss my forehead.

"Yes, my love!"

I literally trot to the other room to fetch the missing piece of the chastity belt, of me really, and, after a quick wash, I'm back, crawling on the bed to my demon, his treasure safely locked.

"I can't believe you came today!" I say, overjoyed, "You must have taken the whole afternoon off!"

"What happened to Sadie made me realize something. I need to be here, with you. Too many things keep happening when I'm kept far from you," he explains, very seriously.

"Oh no, my love, you don't have to worry, I can manage by myself," I try to reassure him.

"I am going to quit my job," he continues, as if he didn't hear me.

"What! No! I'm strong enough, I don't need you holding my hand all the time!" I protest, wounded.

That angers him: he grabs my neck and pushes me hardly with my back on the bed, his eyes now in front of mine, his breath on my lips.

"This is not about what you need. What is your purpose?" he hisses.

"To please you, however I can," I hastily reply with a whimper.

"And today I realized that I need more, more of this," he whispers between his teeth, kissing my neck, without letting it go, squeezing it more if anything, "More control over what happens to you… I really need it. I need more, Nadia, so much more from you. I need to wake up next to you, I need to feel you, not just see and hear you."

I gasp, while he concludes looking me again in the eye:

"Do you understand?"

I think I do and that's why my heart feels like exploding. He cannot ask, he's a demon, he's supposed to just take whatever he wants but this thing he craves now, he can't have by just ordering me and I can't give it out of obedience, it must be my choice. It's all up to me, I'm the only one who can make it happen. It's the most important decision I've ever made, and yet it's one of the easiest. I have no idea of how it would work, I'm a little scared by it, but really the only thing I need to fear is my demon, and I know I want to remain terrified by him for the rest of my days, because that's what makes me feel truly alive.

"Please, demon mine, let me marry you, come live here, with me, so that I can serve you properly every day!" I then beg him, because that's how it's supposed to be.

He grins, incapable of hiding his joy, but he remains silent.

"Please!" I plead again.

His answer is a long, loving kiss.

Once, I read about a thing called a strange attractor in my demon's house. It was about the trajectory of a point representing the state of a complicated physical system. Apparently, sometimes it happens that there are certain configurations that tend to attract all the others, which end up orbiting around them. I feel like BDSM has been a strange attractor in my life. Not only because I'm going to marry my master in an hour or so. I mean, besides the fact that my best friend and sister from another mister is a natural-born slave too, right now I'm gazing at Bryn's hovel from my new living room's window. I hope that being their neighbor is not as bad as the previous owners of the house made it sound, when they thought we couldn't hear them. No, it won't: my mind is as open as this window, from which anyone outside can see me completely naked. Perhaps I'm the bad neighbor!

Oh well, I have way more important things to worry about. Like the fact that soon my new house will be invaded by the few people I felt comfortable enough to invite to the ceremony, which will take place in a black tent in our big back courtyard. My parents and all the relatives are going to miss it, of course, but also half of my friends, because it definitely won't be your standard wedding. Since we both did not want anything to do with religion, we decided that we won't have wedding bands. However, I wanted to mark this day with something that represented his ownership of my heart and, since I don't want to change my collar, which has symbolized just that in the first years of our relationship, I thought of something more solemn and permanent. My demon is going to mark my body, in front of everyone, by tattooing his symbol inside of a more elaborate tattoo on the lower part of my nape, a geometric motif framing an empty circle, which has already been inked by an artist and is presently very itchy. He's been practicing on pigskin for weeks to make it perfect. That's my man, now and forever.

Anyhow, for these reasons my "I do" won't be for the faint of heart. No, actually it is going to be only for people capable of understanding it. I hope.

With a sigh, I turn around and admire my wedding gown on a mannequin. Needless to say, I won't wear white. In the four months that have passed between his proposal and now, I have worked with a friend of mine to make my perfect dress. The black satin top hides a really tight corset and leaves my upper back naked, to make my skin accessible for the marking. The skirt is instead made of several layers of chiffon, in black and shades of dark gray, twisting around me, so that they look much like a cloud of dark smoke. In front of the gown there is a pair of velvet black ballet boots, the footwear that my demon has personally chosen, now that my training allows me to stand and even walk on those things for longer stretches of time. Finally, I won't wear any veil, because, to quote him, I should be shown off for his pride, not be hidden.

All of a sudden I hear his voice in my ears, but it's not a whisper as usual.

"I'm not nervous," he says.

"And are you too proud to admit if you were?" another voice replies.

I think…

"Hahaha, perhaps! At least it's not one of those weddings with swarms of guests!"

"I'm not sure that I would have been able to participate in such case, which would have been a pity: it's a great honor to officiate, I'm very touched that you asked me."

Bryn, that's definitely them. How come I hear them? Perhaps I should go in his room and warn him: I don't want a glitch in his phone to ruin any surprises. Neither of us believes in those silly superstitions about seeing the bride anyway. So I go out and begin to climb the stairs to reach him in our bedroom, while I keep listening to their conversation:

"Hey, since we're here killing time, do you mind if I ask you a question? There's something that's been bugging me lately, you know?"

"Yes? What is it?"

"I keep thinking about Sadie's homemade porn…"

I stop for a second on a step. Why in the world is he thinking about that now?

"If you want to know who filmed her, you don't need any sleuthing: it was one of my users, I know full well who it is," Bryn replies.

"It's not that, not really… You see, I realized that we never checked the websites where he posted the videos, because their membership is expensive, so the only proof that it even had been published it's your screenshots."

That's right, I never thought about that! What is he implying? I recognize his smooth tone of voice now: it's the one he uses just before his words strike the opponent.

"So?" Bryn asks casually.

"And there's also this marvelous coincidence of the thief being one of your users, who you hacked so incredibly fast… One might think, if they didn't know any better, that perhaps there is a simpler explanation of all of this. You had the power of blackmailing this man, threatening to show everybody his extreme kinks. You could have pushed him into putting the teddy bear in Paul's toy room and give the footage to you, so that you could fake the screenshots. This would also explain how you hacked into his computer and deleted the copies on the web so fast: they would have never even been there in the first place."

Holy shit! He's right. I proceed on the stairs, but now I do it quietly. I don't even know why I want to hear the rest of this conversation with my ears, since his snakes whisper it so clearly already: it just feels like this is how it should be.

"And why would I have done that?"

Bryn seems perfectly calm, amused even. I, on the other hand, feel my legs shake for the magnitude of this revelation.

"Because you did hack somebody, you hacked Sadie, you discovered her obsession with you and you realized that with the right push, she might have come back to you. She only needed to think that she had no secret to protect anymore, so that she would stop settling for Paul and go for the real thing."

"I don't know, Eric, this sounds a little paranoid, even for you."

Now I'm at the doorstep and can spy through the keyhole. Bryn is definitely amused! Do they think this is funny? As the shock passes, rage is beginning to boil inside of me.

"What can I say? It's just who I am!"

"So, are you going to share this theory with Nadia and Sadie?" they inquire, their confidence perhaps cracking a little for the first time.

"Oh, hell no! I would if I was a good person, but I'm not," my demon assures in response, some how managing to look straight in my eye, across the keyhole, "I'm telling you these things to show my admiration in case it was true… You really always get what you want, don't you?"

That's why I'm here, why he inverted our roles of listener and listened! I'm the one he trusted the truth with!

"I did tell Sadie that I was truthful when I predicted that her future would be whatever I wanted it to be, so…" Bryn adds smugly.

"Yeah, and this would be no parlor trick indeed!"

"Precisely."

I hear this last word only from the closed door, muffled by the solid surface that divides me from the witch: the snakes that coil in my ears are silent. That's my cue. I've got to tell Sadie! Trying not to make a sound again, I go back to what is going to be our living room, while I text her to meet me immediately.

Damn it! In the five months that she's been with the witch, she truly blossomed. Now I really know what she's like when she's in love and it's nothing like she was with Paul. In hindsight, I should've known from the beginning. For example, I have far less involvement in her relationship with her witch. When she used to involve me in her dates with Paul it was because she was bored too, just like me!

Even her submission is different: it's not just about objectification, like it was with him. That was a game. This, what she's been doing with Bryn, is something with a meaning, something deep. Take for example piercing her labia majora, so that she could lace her pussy for her witch. This time it was her idea to get pierced and it was not me the one who held her hand while she did it, it was her witch's and it happened only after an elaborate ritual that they conceived to symbolize their reconcilement, which Sadie would pay immediately after the procedure by denying herself any climax and offering instead to her witch several sessions of edging per day, for months. She almost went crazy with need, but she stubbornly wore her lace and the clitoral hood that it hid. This was not just a silly fantasy anymore. This was really her life.

The door opens and Sadie, wearing her black and white dress to match her new "Cruella De Vil" hairstyle, tiptoes in baby-steps towards me in her new pair of white wedge ballet boots: she's quite confident in them now.

"Maid of honor reporting for duty!" she exclaims, mocking a military salute.

"Thanks, doll!" I welcome her with a warm smile.

"So, what's troubling you?"

I haven't even thought about how to break it to her. Damn it, maybe my wedding is not the right time! Wait, am I seriously worrying that she might ruin my day? No, that's not me! As I brood about it, she mistakes my silence for general anxiety.

"Hey, you know what you need? A powerful distraction and someone who's just as anxious as you to make you feel better!"

I frown.

"I'm going to ask Bryn if I can move in with them!" she announces, perhaps looking for my approval.

Ok, that's one powerful distraction!

"What? Really? Already?"

"Yeah…" she replies, now less sure of herself, "And before you say it, this is not me rushing things, it's merely a matter of convenience, for several reasons."

"I didn't mean that… I believe you if you say that you're ready," I stammer, trying to correct the course, but she's already counting with her gloved small fingers:

"First: I don't want to live with my folks anymore. Second: living with Bryn would allow me to be a better slave, you know? Like, I would really feel like one, doing chores and shit… Third, right now I have to choose whether I go out or I visit them. Moving in would allow me to have fun outside without sacrificing as much time with my witch, because I would live with them."

Shit! Guilt, that's what is really stopping me from telling her the truth: she's so happy now, how can I ruin that? Also, does she really need to know? I mean, what Bryn did was bad, but it had no real negative consequence, right?

"And yes, I know that there's the risk of becoming an intruder, disrupting their daily routines, changing their home, especially considering how important it is for them… But I thought it through!" she continues, in what starts to feel like a rehearsed speech, "I love their hovel the way it is, so I'm going to put it like I'm a slave and I'm not entitled to an opinion about Bryn's home. Also, they have a spare bedroom, which could be my room, and where I could satisfy all my needs to make my new place more personal."

I open my mouth, but she's not finished:

"See how clever it is? We would be more like roomies at first and then we can gradually become a couple sharing a house."

"Are you sure that–" I retort, in vain, because she has already an answer:

"They've already done it with their previous slave, Jenna, you know, the one with the message. She used to sleep in a cell and then, when things got serious, she got the privilege to stay in a cage at the foot of Bryn's bed."

"Wait, a cell?"

Sadie shrugs, nonchalantly:

"She liked small spaces… My witch won't do the same to me, they've already told me: every slave is different."

I sigh. There's no way I won't tell her what I learned: a healthy relationship, especially if it involves a strong power play like hers, should not fear truth.

"So? What do you think, boss?" she anxiously asks me.

"Sadie… I don't know how to say it… I've heard a thing about the video of you that leaked…" I begin, really with no clue about how to proceed.

Surprisingly, a small smile greets my words:

"I know boss. My witch deceived us."

Wait, am I the only one who's been so naive to believe the ruse? As if she read my thoughts, Sadie adds:

"I wasn't suspicious either, boss, but I'm pretty sure that Bryn purposefully dropped some clues along the way. Probably as a test, you know? They like these twisted subterfuges…"

"But… If you knew…" I babble.

She shrugs:

"I was in a relationship with Paul that was giving me no real satisfaction and I had dropped the one chance I had with a person who felt really special, after doing something I regretted dearly. My cowardice was preventing me from doing what was best for me and so, you know, they took the matter in their hands and it worked!"

"Ok, but isn't it still wrong?" I object, not sure that I want to win the argument.

"Well, Bryn's a witch, what did you expect?" she jokes, going back to being serious because of my subsequent glare, "Look, it's wrong because they scared me, even though one might argue that it was a good thing for the very same reason, considering the path I was on… My point is that it wasn't as bad as forcing me to do things would have been. And they didn't, if you think about it: I decided to go back to their house and apologize on my own. I asked for a second chance because I regretted my actions."

"Yeah, but it was still part of their plan, wasn't it?"

"They predicted that, sure, but this is just a proof to their capability of understanding me. They did not manipulate me, even though they could have come out as the one who warned me, or the one who could solve my problem. And they told me only after my apology, allowing it to remain spontaneous."

I mumble, still not convinced:

"And they sort of came clean immediately after the incident, albeit not explicitly, even though they might have gotten away with it. The point is: I love my witch and the knowledge of what they did didn't change that. Actually it makes me like them more, not the contrary."

I put my hands on her shoulders and whisper:

"Alright, doll, I didn't mean to put your relationship with them in jeopardy… I was just worried."

"I know, boss," she reassures me, "Besides, if there's anyone who can understand, it's you. We are both attracted to people who don't think in terms of good and bad, who would do anything for us, even if it's against the rules, even if it is manipulating our lives with their invisible hands."

I smile:

"Yes, that's right: I'm going to marry mine and after that you are going to implore yours to take them in their hovel!"

"So, you're not nervous?" she asks, beaming.

"I'm always nervous around my demon, he scares the shit out of me, but no, the weeding is a piece of cake."

"That's good, because I'm shitting myself at the thought of introducing Bryn to my parents!" she reveals, with a conspiratorial tone.