Lara stared moodily out of the carriage window and quickly transferred her look to the woman sitting primly opposite her, her maid -- though jailer would be a more appropriate term. In every part of her life, she was managed. By her stiff father (who was the worst), her mother, her two arrogant brothers, her ladies maid...it was unbearable. Tomorrow was her cousin Amelia's coming out ball and Lara was on her way to deliver her gift early so as to spend some extra time with her and take tea before the grand event. Rare was it that she spent quality time with Amelia since she was usually tucked away in the countryside where company was few and excitement none. But she was in London now and she let her mind wander to pleasanter thoughts.
Tomorrow, Amelia would be launched into society. She would wear a beautiful dress, would be admired and fawned over by the most handsomest of men...meanwhile, Lara would be in some frumpy, unflattering gown, the perpetual wallflower living vicariously through her lucky cousin. She thought back to her own debut which she had shared with the daughter of a family friend two years ago. Thoroughly unremarkable it had been, with her parents throwing a modest affair, with modest food and proving modest hosts. In contrast, Amelia's parents were so...so light-hearted to an almost blasé degree. She wasn't watched over, she wasn't treated like a delicate child instead of the hot-blooded female that she was. Indeed, if Lara's parents knew the true bend of her thoughts as she summoned a memory from last night, they would suffer twin heart attacks.
As the carriage came to a halt, she departed with her sour faced maid, Katie, and headed for Amelia's grand townhouse in the fashionably expensive Kensington. It was hectic inside, with maids scuttling about carrying something here and polishing something there and the usual cluster of suited men waiting outside the large study by the staircase, hoping for an audience with the Earl of Hampton, her uncle.
Somewhere in the fray, a servant spotted the new arrivals and directed Lara to join her cousin in the blue room. Katie was reluctant to stay put.
"We're hardly going to run away and join a brothel, Katie," Lara sighed.
Her maid looked outraged, even though she should be more than used to her ill-humour by now. "You are quite impertinent, Miss Lara. I shall wait here for you. Do not be long; you know your mother worries when you tarry."
Lara turned on a sigh and a swish of heavy brown cape, moving toward the marble staircase.
Nicholas tried very hard. He tried very hard not to look at the sway of the girls hips as she walked up the sweeping staircase opposite Lord Hampton's study. Hips that he knew would be nicely curved despite the unflattering sheet she had wrapped around her. He tried even harder not to latch onto her thoughts at that very moment which saw her guiltily recall pleasuring herself in the bath last night but he was cursed sickened of being in this mortal dwelling, with these pathetic human males practicing their desperate speeches in their heads, speeches that they hoped would win over Lord Hampton's acceptance for his daughter's hand in marriage. Thus, her thoughts proved pleasantly distracting.
In his many years absence from this world, little had changed. True, the society may not be as crude and inferior as it had been but one thing remained and it was that men were still fools and weak-willed. His acquaintance, Vincent, was mildly obsessed with this world, re-entering it each time like a boy entering a brothel for the first time all eager eyes and fidgety limbs. Vincent loved the women, the mode of dress...Nicholas, on the other hand, couldn't wait to depart, always feeling that twisting sensation inside of him when he first set foot on their habitation and the soiled, cloying human scent assailed him. Still, he was only here for a further twenty-four hours, it would be bearable.
He discarded the hurried musings of the males before him and instead focused fully on this mortal female who was strangely fascinating. Though she had since walked out of sight, her thoughts were loud and clear. He had to chuckle at the irony of the situation, true. But there was one glaring difference between himself and these mortal men. He got what he wanted when it came to females mortal or not; he used them and did not trouble himself afterward. Meanwhile, the humans got caught up in the trap, fell into distasteful domesticity of producing and rearing more of this cursed race. They then spent their lives resenting themselves for having let their lusts betray them, for leading them to a life of imprisonment whilst licking their wounds by fucking around on the side, unable to control their base, animalistic instincts.
He glanced at the empty staircase once more and revelled in his own lust without compunction, for Hampton was keeping him waiting and he was growing less and less patient. The magnified imagery of the girls firm, high breasts beaded in water, the dark pink areolas pebbled, the stiff little nipples beaded in arousal, eased his thoughts somewhat. Then there was the trail of her hand as it rested on her soft bush before slipping between her thighs. He mentally shook his head and broke contact with the girl's mind, his iron hard control returning, the mortal girl forgotten. A momentary distraction, albeit a rare one, he mused sardonically. He frowned then. He could not let it go. Had a plain looking mortal ever harassed his senses before? Of course he knew the answer to that. They were all the same, after all. But in fairness, she had not been so plain. To a male human, perhaps, but they saw only what they wanted and seemed to have ignored her veiled beauty in those unremarkable clothes. He shook his head at the trend of his musings. With difficulty that was foreign to him, he dismissed the girl and focused on the task at hand.
"Oh, it's...so thoughtful of you."
Lara rolled her eyes. "Don't lie on my account, there's no one to overhear. It's your grand moment and what does mama send you? The ugliest, most matronly bonnet in the world."
Amelia shook her head. "Well, forget that -- tell me about this dress you're wearing tomorrow. Is it really so terrible?"
Lara sank into the seat opposite, her mood dipping a notch lower. "No man will look at me. They will see a plain, dowdy girl and nothing more. I know I sound ungrateful what with this being your special day but how I dread tomorrow evening."
Amelia sighed in disgust. "I shall not stand for it. Tomorrow you will dance with any man you so choose -- for once, you shall not be subjected to those pathetic duty dances with the witless, unattractive men always in surplas. I want you to enjoy it with me! I have a plan."
"I don't know if-"
Her cousin interrupted her with a hard look. "Now, I'll have to love you and leave and tell you all about the plan later on," she glanced at herself in the wall mirror as she said this. "Do I look ok?" she had the gall to ask hesitantly.
Well, at least she was sincere. She looked perfect; blonde, taller than most women, and full bosomed. She wondered who the lucky man was this time.
You see, that was another thing about having blasé parents like Amelia's; there tended to be ample opportunity in which to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh. Amelia had missed her come out at eighteen because of a horrific leg injury that her left her bedridden for almost three years and on shaky legs for a year after. Now twenty-two to Lara's twenty-one, she was quite...well, making up for lost time. Perhaps not in the way most young ladies would, mind you, but then there was nothing conventional about Amelia.
"You look beautiful as ever. But you must tell me - what is the new one like?"
Considering they shared everything, this was no different. Lara positively ate up her cousins exploits, eager for more stories, fascinated.
"Divine. His cock is...well, I still can't get over the girth. I always think I won't be able to accept him inside me..."
A pleasant tingle between Lara's legs urged her to silently continue.
"I think he may be the one!"
That made it die a quick death.
Amelia's lovers usually comprised of servants or delivery boys or anyone that was below herself in rank; pleasant tumbles and nothing deeper than that.
Her cousin must have seen her expression for she said, "No, no, it's alright, really! It's...well, it's Cole."
"Your father's solicitor!" He was ancient!
"He's only thirty four, Lara. Oh, God, the things he does to me."
"What can he do that the others haven't," Lara dismissed flippantly. She was secretly disturbed that her cousin had done the one thing she had vowed never to do; get caught up in the game and fall for someone deeply.
Frowning at her unusual bluntness, for Lara was usually quite shy and prudish when she told her stories (though she knew she loved hearing them, by her misted eyes and clamping thighs) Amelia replied just as bluntly, "He makes me cum by sticking his tongue in my pussy."
The thought was so inconceivable to Lara that she merely stared. The pussy -- that was to say, a woman's private place, she amended ashamedly -- was there to accommodate a man's private place. And also his fingers, according to Amelia. But his tongue?
"Shall I continue?"
"I thought you had an appointment?" Lara said hurriedly.
"That can wait."
"Oh, tell me, then" she burst out eagerly, prior concerns for her cousin's sanity forgotten.
Amelia wasted no time in shyness. "The first time he seemed to just be kissing my mound. I was confused, naturally, but gave him the benefit of the doubt," she paused at this and glanced at Lara with a knowing look. "Obviously I couldn't do with such pandering about and just wanted him to stick it in me."
Lara nodded understandingly.
"So I raised myself up to see what he was about and saw him, well opening my pussy lips with his fingers and going in for a good look...then he simply smiled - at least I think it was a smile what with his tongue sliding over my slit and then he...well, I can think of no other term but to say, he ate me!"
"And -- and then what?" the wetness between her thighs grew until she was certain her drawers were soaked
"He kept at it until I came, good boy that he was, plunging his tongue inside me again and again -- curious, but you wouldn't think something so much smaller than that delicious cock could feel so glorious but there you go. And then, when I thought I would die he sucked my clit into his mouth and I swear I died twice."
Amelia rose abruptly then. "I shall see you tomorrow, dear -- and leave everything to me - you shall have your day!" with that, she disappeared from the room quite hurriedly.
Lord Hampton forced himself to keep eye contact with the man before him. He could feel the sweat gathering at his neck, his palms moistening. The day had finally arrived when he had assured himself in all of his arrogance that it would not. His anxiety was acute. It all felt unreal; the well lit study, the hissing fire, the excited noise of the house staff outside whilst He sat opposite. How could this be happening? But he would not turn into a stuttering infant; he was a peer of the realm, for heavens sake. Anyone could be managed. There was always a solution.
"I have money, there is no limit -- my solicitor can draw you a cheque in no time-"
"I'm already wealthier than you could ever dream to be, considering I gave you the money you desired to start with -- but still, mortal money means little to me. I have to say, however, that I was impressed to learn of your successes these past years. That you have managed to multiply my...loan so efficiently is quite something." He had to give any human points for initiative, since few seemed to have it.
"Yes - of course, silly of me. Then, perhaps-"
"You know what I want. I do not bargain," his guest's voice was colder now. The humoured edge had gone but it had not been a usual humour. It had heckled and mocked.
Hampton wiped at his forehead. Think, he urged. Another way around, a way out. "If we made a deal to-"
"We have one already -- twelve years old it is, too, and you haven't even honoured that yet. I am not a patient being."
Hampton shuddered. He had expected 'not a patient man', for that's what this -- this creature before him presented himself as. Who could tell the difference? But he was no man. He was evil. And so incongruous in his polished boots and expertly tailored coat.
"You must appreciate, surely, how impossible-"
A knock on the door interrupted them before the abrupt appearance of his daughter Amelia caused him to catch his breath.
"God grief, girl, what do you mean coming in uninvited? Can't you see I'm busy?"
Thinking this was where Cole would be since she had to relay her unavailability to him somehow, Amelia had hoped to wander into her fathers study innocently whilst informing him subtly. The uncharacteristic harshness of her fathers tone and his bunched, red face caught her off guard. He had never barred her access to anything before.
"I - I'm sorry, papa, but I only wished to-"
"Leave immediately," he bit out.
"Please," a deep voice interrupted them.
Amelia looked up at the elegantly dressed man who unfurled himself from a chair. He was head and shoulders above her, though she were tall for a woman. And he had the most fascinating eyes she had ever seen; icy blue like a slashing ocean, glittering and pale one minute, dark the next. She shook her head of the silly notion.
"I will leave with you, if you will be so kind to escort me. Your father and I have finished our business," he turned then and looked consideringly at her father. "Good day, Hampton. Until next time."
"But, my lord -- please, I beg of you-" but Hampton's pleading fell on deaf ears.
When a demon made a bargain with a mortal, it was binding. In exchange for riches, health or whatever else one could dream to wish for, the mortal side of the bargain was always the same -- to hand over one of his or her own flesh, one of their seed. As long as the human exchanged was a son or daughter of the bargaining mortal then the deal would be met and the bond between demon and mortal would be broken, having been successfully fulfilled.
To use a general, un-bonded mortal for ones demonic purposes was off little use and of fleeting satisfaction. But to use one who had been promised, meant the blood was sacred and precious and priceless. Fortifying, regenerating. Of course it did sometimes follow fue to their flippant natures, that many mortals when it came time to pay the piper, failed to hand over the promised offspring - and there was no way for the demon to posses or snatch the promised since they must be freely given or else the bargain was not pure and the blood meaningless. To renegade on the agreement would mean punishment for that weak-willed mortal, naturally. It also meant that the demon and human would now be forever bonded, the demon now master of that mortal.
The punishments were explicit but tailor made to that humans greatest fears. Life long torture, loss of everything they had, illness, death, suffering of loved ones... all endless pain with no way out. Hell on earth. If Hampton did not hand over this blonde daughter, then he could look forward to an existence that would make him beg for that human death of suicide, but it would be of no use. Once eternally bonded to a demon, God would deny all claim over Hampton. The man would suffer well for denying the demon Nicholas, with no reprieve. But Nicholas did not give up so easily. He would get his prize.
Lara surveyed the opulent room from her vantage point, front row centre in a row of wallflowers. There she sat in her God awful dress, watching as girls with half their tits out were whirled about the dance floor by dashing men who's eyes eagerly waited for a peek of nipple from the daring expanse shown in this new style of dressing, brought over by the Parisians. Her mother looked at her sternly from across the room as if she knew the bend of her unhappy thoughts. Where was Amelia? Surely she had not forgotten about this so-called magical plan? Just then, her cousin waved at her from the entrance of the ballroom, disentangling herself from hero-worshiping girls and cock-teased men as they vied for her attention.
She appeared at Lara's side with a beaming smile.
"What a lovely...off white gown," she began.
"It's yellow and you know it. Discoloured looking, awful!"
"Yes, I suppose - oops!"
Lara jumped up as red punch soaked the entire front of her dress and people around them muttered in dismay.
"I've always been a butterfingers," Amelia shook her head with unconvincing regret. "Come, we must clean you up!" and with sparkling eyes, her cousin dragged her away from the noisy ballroom.
Lara felt exposed. As she stood in the ballroom once more in one of Amelia's dresses, she was certainly no longer a wallflower. Indeed, even had she wanted to revert to her well-practised role, she could spy no available seats. She felt nervous and thrilled, her heart jerking oddly at this unexpected excitement to the evening. The gown showed off much of her back, with sleeves that went across her shoulders and sagged slightly due to the slightly larger fit but the look was becoming. It was deep red and the colour was perhaps what horrified her mother the most. Though her breasts were not as big as Amelia's, they still filled out the bodice nicely and caused many a man's eye to glaze over in lust.
"You must change right this instance, why, if your father were to walk in from the games room-" her mother began.
"Really, Helena, Lara looks wonderful! The dress may have been made for her. Let her keep it on, you know how girls are. She is almost glowing." As her aunt's praise, her mother could hardly say a word against it. After all, her aunt was a countess, where her mother was a mere lady having not married into nobility like her sister had. Her unpopular opinion was easily brushed aside.
"Yes, well I suppose it will have to do given the circumstances - though I forgot to mention Ceilia, we cannot stay for very long this evening-"
"Yes, yes. Come, you must have a glass of champagne - it's imported!" and with that, her mother was pulled away before she could argue further.
Lara silently thanked her aunt for good intuition and mischievous spirit. She was not alone for very long, however, as a dashing man soon dragged over an elder to make the appropriate introductions before asking for her dance card. Lara pleaded thirst very quickly, unused to this male attention and breathed in relief as he trotted away. Though he returned, rather too quickly for her liking.
"Thank you, Tom. You are most kind to attend me so."
"Er, it's Tom, my lady."
She apologized but he seemed not to be offended as he eyed her cleavage with warm eyes. Another man joined them shortly.
"May I have the next dance, my lady?" he asked eagerly.
"Oh, Tom has the next."
The two men glared at each other.
"Perhaps the next-" she began
"I believe the next dance is mine," she was interrupted by a deep, almost gravely voice.
She turned and, too stunned to answer, merely nodded her acceptance.
The most beautiful man she ever seen gazed down at her. He was dressed completely in black, from his shiny boots, pressed shirt and the silky cravat tied at his strong neck. He pulled her away from the two men with much ease and into his arms as the next dance began.
"I need to taste your skin," he said abruptly, as he twirled her about.
They were not the caressing, gentle words of a man in a romance novel but spoken bluntly and unashamedly.
Embarrassed and thrilled, Lara merely craned her neck to meet his eyes. She should feel affronted, she should walk away from this mysterious man but she wanted what he said, even if she didn't understand it. His face was unsmiling, serious.