Doom Story Update

3k words

***

“It has been so long since someone’s had the nerve to address me like you have,” she replied. “Maybe you do have the strength to survive a night with a demon. Maybe,” she reiterated.

“Wait, tell me something,” Andreas said. “Before, you said centuries had past, just how old are you?”

Sharrya paused in her love-biting, poising below his chin as she thought.

“Hmm. How many hours in one of your days?”

“Twenty-four. And there’s three hundred and sixty five days in a year.”

“That would make me… a little over three hundred of your standard years.”

“Three hundred?” he echoed. “Talk about being a MILF.”

“A what?”

Andreas opened his mouth to explain, when a single beep filled the room, the two turning towards its source. The mounted flashlight on his helmet flicked on, Eva’s tinny voice reaching out from the speakers.

“I’ve taken care of the cameras, but I’d ask that you conclude your… business in a timely manner, please. Someone’s bound to come check on one of you eventually.”

“We will take as long as I deem it necessary, robot,” Sharrya replied, turning her glowing eyes on the helmet. “Our love must be nurtured, savoured, if either of you want the information I have.”

“Whatever,” Eva replied uncomfortably. “You just keep those claws off the Seargent, if I see so much as a scratch on him, you’re finished.”

“You’re like a mother hen to my human,” Sharrya chuckled. “Perhaps you would like to come here personally and keep watch? I don’t fancy an audience, but if he means so much to you I could be persuaded to make an exception.”

“A-As if I would subject my sensors to… to biological mating!”

“But you’re the one who wanted that helmet in here with us, true? Something tells me you wouldn’t find the prospect intriguing, assuming you haven’t spied on us already.”

“I have to go, someone’s asking me for… something,” Eva said, and then there was no more, the helmet’s speakers cutting off. Sharrya turned to Andreas, the Seargent shrugging up at her.

“What a strange sidekick you have. Now where were we? Oh yes.”

Sharrya grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him against the wall as she brought her lips to his. Her kisses were so raw and impassioned, Andreas going light-headed as she shoved her tongue down his throat. Her tusks pinched his skin when he tilted his head to reciprocate, but the pain was an afterthought compared to her ravenous attentions.

Her claws plucked at his biceps, Sharrya feeling his muscles through the jumpsuit he wore. Sharrya’s long fingers moved over his neck, tugging on his collar. She put him in a daze with her hungry kiss, but he was snapped out of it when the sound of tearing fabric filled the room.

“Oi! Don’t rip my uniform you dickhead,” Andreas snapped, their lips smacking as he separated from her, grabbing at her oversized fingers. He could just barely wrap his palm around a single digit.

“I’ve wanted to rip your clothes off for a long time, and that is exactly what I’ll do,” Sharrya cooed. “Unless, of course, we no longer have a deal?”

“Just let me do it, will you? How am I going to explain this to requisitions?”

“That’s your problem,” she replied, but she had the decency to let him roll up the sleeves, the Baroness practialy ripping his shirt over his head. She tossed it over her shoulder, then turned her attention to his exposed torso.

Life as special forces was demanding, and Andreas didn’t skimp out on keeping himself in top shape. He was heavily developed, with broad shoulders and muscles packed tightly together beneath his tanned skin, but even he didn’t hold a candle to a Baron. If Sharrya was disappointed in his bodyplan, then she didn’t show it, her lips curling as she admired him.

A touch of self-consciousness ran up his spine as she drank him in with her eyes for a solid minute, the silence only broken by his slightly rasping breathing. She hadn’t quite left him panting, but his heart was thumping harder than he would have liked to admit.

“So familiar, yet so alien and strange,” Sharrya mused, her head lowering to his chest. “Another commonality between Hell and Earth…”

“What am I, an art exhib… exhibit?”

When he tried to say exhibit, Sharrya’s lips sealed over his left nipple, pecking it with a kiss. The planted one on the other, the act sending butterfly ripples through him.

She worked her way down to his belly, alternating between soft pecks with her lips and tough bites with her tusks, the blend of pain and pleasure messing with his head. Her restrained hands remained on his shoulders all the while, Andreas sliding down the wall as she eased him lower. It was obvious she wanted him on his back, and even if he wanted to resist her (a growing part of him didn’t), he wasn’t strong enough to stay on his feet, his butt compressing against the ground.

“Good boy,” she said, kneeling between his legs, her breath warming his lap. “You just relax while I fulfill some… curiosities of mine.”

“This whole human thing you’ve got going on is crazy,” he said. “Do you get pervy with every alien you come across?”

“I’ve admired several other species before, but you’re the first to really capture me. Plus there is something to be said about your species. You are so small, so soft,” she said enunciating her point by running a claw down his ribs. “and with souls packed with mortal energy. You are like a toy I can have my way with.”

“And you’re like a dominatrix,” he rebutted, but the words sounded weak to his ears.

“I know not what that is, but I’ll assume it’s something about being controlled, dominated. It’s not so bad to resist me, Andreas, allow me to show you why…”

Her trailing hands reached his belt, her fingers slipping beneath his waistband. He complained again when she used her claws to slice the buckle off rather than undo it properly, his pants not escaping the same fate as she ripped open is fly, the zipper shooting into the air.

She tugged his pants down, exposing his briefs, her eyes lighting up at the noticeable bulge in his groin. “Ah ha,” Sharrya announed. “you’re playing the lying reluctant angle, aren’t you? That’s not an accusation, by the way, I so love it when you try to resist me.”

He grunted as she pressed her round thigh into his crotch, her flesh spilling over him like memory foam. She began making slow, up-and-down motions with her leg, the pressure causing Andreas to suck in a gasp. She was shoving him into the wall, putting her substantial bulk over his legs, Andreas feeling his ability to move slipping.

“You like my legs, don’t you?” Sharrya asked, keeping her thigh stroking in slow, circular motions. “I’ve seen you admire them, perhaps you’ve been looking forward to getting this close to them. You can touch them, you know.”

The fur covering from her waist down looked like the softest wool he’d ever seen, each brown strand conforming to her plump legs like a second skin, the illusion only shattered when she rubbed her flesh against his. It looked softer than a mink coat, Andreas almost reaching out to test their texture before he suppressed the urge.

“I’ll pass,” he muttered, Sharrya pouting.

“Must you be so prude? Humans touch each other when making love, don’t they? You want to touch me, Andreas, I can see it in your eyes.”

“This is a deal exchange, we’re not making love,” he replied, averting his gaze.

“Then I shall have to pick up the slack,” Sharrya said, her arms pathing down his torso, only the tips of her claws making contact. One of her hands grabbed him by the hip, the other delving below his waistband. Andreas winced when her fingers found his shaft, which was already masting thank to her thigh, Sharrya shifting herself so she laid on his immediate left, one leg crossed over both of his.

Her smooth fingers wrapped around his cock, and Andreas yelped in alarm, remembering how scorching her raw skin was. He felt as though she’d just gripped him with a pair of tongs left in hot water. His skin wasn’t scorching, however, although it went very red very quickly. 

“Geez, Sharray, run your hands under cold water or something,” he complained.

“I’ve tried, believe me,” she replied. “but the fires of Hell have made a lasting impression on me. It was difficult to get myself off the first few times, but I grew used to the heat. Just as you will, Andreas, I’ll see to that.”

Her grip firm, she began to slide her fingers up his shaft, pausing at his glans to give them an experimental prod. She figured out how sensitive they were thanks to the little noises he made, he poking turning to soothing strokes that left him disappointingly eager for more. He thought they’d just go at it a few rounds and be done with it, but she was killing him with the foreplay, and he wondered what the point of it was.

The demon slid down to his base, locking her forefinger and thumb in a ring of pressure that sent an electric jolt through his core. Her other digits creeped towards his sack, Sharrya’s eyes locking to them as she weighed them in her palm, giving him a testing squeeze.

“H-Hold on,” he whispered. “don’t crush my balls, Sharrya, or the deal’s off.”

She giggled at him. “That was an adorable little stutter, Andreas. Take away all your gear and armour, and you’re as fragile as a newborn…”

She dragged the flat of her tongue up her palm, giving Andreas a sultry look as she did. Her spit added a delightful layer of lubricant as she placed her hand on his crotch, pumping him with her hot hand. The restraints made it so she could only grab onto his thigh for support, Sharrya grumbling as she tested the limits of her range of motion.

Andreas slacked his neck, staring up at the whitewashed ceiling as pleasure coursed through his body. The demonic heat she emitted was making him sweat and irritated, but there was something to be said for it, the added sensation making him hyperactive, dialling up his senses to the max.

The minutes were blissful as Sharrya milked his shaft, adding just the right amount of pressure when she neared his base, then relieving it when she moved up to his glans. He could feel his climax creeping up on him like a bad thought, his spine arching as though his body demanded her to have more access.

“If only I did not have these shackles,” Sharrya mused, slowing herself down, as though she’d sensed him reaching his limits. “I could finally get all of my claws on you, show you how demons really make love.”

“Nice try,” Andreas replied, his voice breathless. “but the cuffs stay on.”

“I don’t think you realise what you’re denying,” Sharrya replied, leaning in until their noses touched. “I’ve put you on your back with just one hand, imagine what I could do with two,” she added, pumping him especially hard for emphasis. He couldn’t suppress the following grunt, Sharrya laughing as she saw his frustration.

“What would be the harm?” she pressed. “I am not getting out of this cell, restrained or otherwise, and it’s not as though they’re keeping me from touching you.” She grazed his cheek with her tongue, whispering into his ear: “I have centuries of experience, Andreas, far more than any of your prissy females. I can show you everything and more, you just have to let me.”

His heart skipped a beat, Andreas trying to look away, but Sharrya’s closeness made that impossible. The way her green eyes filled his vision made him feel like she was staring into his very soul – which was probably something she could do.

Releasing Sharrya didn’t sit right with him, but the cuffs were pretty much a formality at this point, the only person they were hampering was him, right? Eva would be screaming with rage that he was even considering her offer, and perhaps she’d be right to do so, but his monkey brain was just too persuasive to resist.

Sharrya released his cock, leaving his shaft sticky and bouncing in disappointment as she raised her arms to his chest, like she’d already known his decision before Andreas had made it. He turned her arms over to access the numeric keypad built on the top face of the shackles that controlled the electric locks. Since he’d put them on her, he knew the code, and after entering a string of numbers, their was an electrical hum, and the restraints split in two.

“I’m going to regret this,” Andreas said, Sharrya placing the cuffs aside and rubbing her wrists.  

“Probably,” Sharrya agreed. “but allow me to distract you from your troubles…”

Her hand slid down his chest, his abdominals flexing at her touch. She wasted no time in returning her fingers to his rod, seizing him in both her palms. Her digits formed what felt like countless rings around his shaft, each one flexing with a slightly different amount of pressure. She wrenched her hands in opposing directions, the motion reminding him of how one rings out a cloth, Andreas shutting his eyes as a burst of raw pleasure shocked him.

He hadn’t been boasting when he’d told Eva his exes hadn’t complained about his skills as a partner, and he couldn’t remember being this sensitive before. Outside of a few rare cases it was him that had always taken the lead, and having that flipped back on him was driving him up the wall.

Closing his eyelids blocked some of the stimulation, but not very well, Andreas biting back a groan as Sharrya subjected him to her ruthless pumping. “I’ll give you that one,” he muttered. “Two is better than one.”

“You see?” she cooed. “Sometimes resistance isn’t as rewarding as the alternative…”

He felt one of her hands leave his shaft, her other taking up the slack in its absence. With his mind so focused on her handjob he didn’t even notice her fingers sneaking into his palm until moments later, her claws interlocking with his digits as she moved his hand to his chest. If he’d been told days ago he’d be holding hands with Sharrya he’d have called that person crazy, but being held like that wasn’t as bad as it should have been.

She placed his hand on his chest, then took hold of his other, bringing them together. He was about to ask her what she was doing, but he was cut off as a whirring noise rose to his ears, and a tightness sealed over his wrists.

His eyes flew open, and when he turned his gaze down, he saw the restraints had locked his hands together, Sharrya smirking at him as she lifted her hand away. He’d been so focused on her attentions he hadn’t even noticed she’d picked up the cuffs, his chest surging with panic.

“Sh-Sharrya? What are you doing?” he asked, even though it was obvious.

“I told you you would be mine one day,” Sharrya replied. “and now I finally have you secured.”

He tried to slip free of the shackles, but the rings were to narrow to slip his hands through. Cursing, he tried to stand, but Sharrya pinned him with her claws, swinging a leg over his waist and putting her weight on his legs. She didn’t crush him, but put just enough weight on him that he couldn’t move.

“I knew I would regret this,” he muttered. “This was your plan, huh? Talk about playing the fucking long game.”

“I’ve merely taken advantage of the situation, there is no long game,” Sharrya laughed. “You’re right to be suspicious, of course. Taking you prisoner would be the ultimate irony.”

“I’ll call Eva,” he warned.

“Why cut our fun short?” she asked. “You said you’re not going to touch me, therefore you do not need your arms. Our bargain still stands regardless.”  

“I never agreed to be tied up,” he complained, Sharrya raising his arms above his head, and pinning them to the wall. The restraints were so heavy that when she let go, he didn’t have the strength to keep them raised, his arms falling behind his head.

“I am altering the deal,” Sharrya replied with a dismissive shrug.

“And I should pray you don’t alter it any further?” he prompted.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s a line from an old movie, don’t worry about it.”

“You just love your movies, don’t you,” she chuckled. “Perhaps we should watch one while we consummate our bond.”

Andreas darted to the television in consideration, Sharrya chuckling at him.

“Ah, but then you wouldn’t give me your full attention, and I don’t want you distracted for what I am about to do.”

She crawled down his body, her shapely breasts rubbing along his torso like two water balloons. Although he was immobilised, he was sure by now that Sharrya didn’t wish to kill him, although that did little to quell the alarm inside him stomach. Being at the mercy of a demon would do that to even the bravest of humans.

Her palms settled on his knees as her snout came level with his groin, his legs disappearing beneath her nine-foot frame. She pursed her lips, blowing hot breath on his glans, giving him one of those stares that sent his heart fluttering.

“My mouth is far too good for your mortal flesh,” Sharrya said. “But I can think of a far better substitute.”

She reached down to her sling, gripping the underside of her makeshift bra. She peeled the leather fabric away, pausing with an enticing layer of underboob exposed, making sure Andreas was watching. The sling was straining against her bosom, making him wonder how it managed to contain her assets in the first place.