The light took shape, forming into a silhouetted figure with wide hips and thick thighs that was currently striding toward him without any sense of urgency. Keaton looked past the figure, then listened to hear his companion on the other side, to see if anyone else was seeing this. There were no guards in the hall, though, and no sound beyond the wall of his cell.
I’ve finally lost it. I’m having some kind of mental breakdown.
Keaton heard the clucking of a tongue against the roof of a mouth. The figure stopped, settling into a pose that was the approximation of hands resting on hips. The bright light began to fade, giving way to something easier to behold, yet no less stunning.
Before him stood the single most beautiful woman Keaton had ever seen. Honey blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders in loose ringlets, her heart-shaped face, snub nose, and almond-shaped cerulean eyes giving her a look of innocence.
It was almost certainly a lie, negated by the seductive way she strode toward him. Large, voluptuous breasts bouncing, her rosy nipples pert and begging to be sucked. Wide hips swung with confidence, tapering only slightly to creamy thighs he wouldn’t mind burying his face between. Especially when — every now and again — he caught a glimpse of glistening pink pussy lips beneath a neat dusting of blonde curls.
Her entire figure was surrounded by an almost ethereal glow, only adding to the perfection of flawless skin. It was obvious to Keaton that she wasn’t real. No real woman looked like that, and no real woman would have just appeared in his cell without him noticing.
“What’s the matter, darling?” she purred. “Having trouble trusting your eyes? Here, let me make it easier on you.”
She stood over him, giving Keaton an even better view from below. Then, without hesitation, she lowered herself down, very real, very warm hands on his shoulders as she settled her knees against the floor, straddling his waist.
His cock twitched, straining against her, though Keaton was otherwise frozen. This couldn’t be real. He was just dreaming. One last, pleasant dream before he was hanged. That was all it was.
A very realistic dream akin to some kind of twisted self-torture, because she soon scooted back, the smooth curve of her ass rubbing over his cock before he felt the wet heat of her pussy as her lips dragged over the shaft. Keaton sucked in a shuddering breath, his eyes rolling back in his head. Every muscle tensed as he tried to deny his instinct to buck against her; he only partially succeeded.
“Almost there,” she said, that voice like warm honey pouring over him.
She scooted just far enough back that she wasn’t straddled directly above him, then moved her body in such tight, controlled gyrations that Keaton was mesmerized. Her tits swayed, her abdominal muscles clenched, her thighs strained, and she ground her pussy against him, covering his cock in her juices.
It wasn’t a dream. But it wasn’t reality, either. Keaton didn’t know what it was, only that his body was suddenly desperate. All he wanted in the world was to sink inside of her until she was flush with him.
His hand reached behind him, seeking purchase that just wasn’t there. Instead his blunted nails scraped against unyielding stone. He bit his tongue but was unable to completely quiet the groan that left him.
“There are… guards,” he managed, panting. “Someone in the cell right next to us. People who will hear.”
It felt like such a weak protest. This woman had come from nowhere, completely naked, her beauty far beyond anything reasonable. And yet his only objection was that someone might hear.
“Then I suppose you’d better stay quiet.”
She continued to grind against him, the friction constant, her inhuman gaze never leaving his. Keaton was transfixed. Both hands went to her hips, gripping ample flesh, though he didn’t try to guide her. He wasn’t sure he even could.
Tension built in his body, stored up like rushing water pounding against a dam that was at its capacity. He was so, so close to breaking, and he wanted it; needed it. Just as his muscles began to tense, just as that anticipation reached its peak…
She drew away from him.
4
It was a shock to the system akin to dunking his head into ice cold water. Keaton grit his teeth, his jaw held so rigid that a flash of pain shot through it, all in effort to keep from screaming in frustration.
“You’re a daemon,” he practically spat, the word seeming to coat his mouth with an offensive, bitter film.
He didn’t know why he hadn’t pieced it together before. Her beauty was too unnatural, her ethereal glow just a trick of the nether plane. And of course she’d initiated their meeting with the promise of sex. Daemons did whatever it took to get their way, and for Keaton, that apparently meant appealing to his base instincts.
He couldn’t help being disgusted with himself.
“You didn’t seem to mind my nature just a second ago,” she purred, long lashes sweeping down over her cheeks, bee-stung lips curving into a coy smile.
“Leave,” he ground out, pulling his dirty, rat-gnawed tunic over his lower body. “I’m not interested in whatever you’re offering.”
“Oh? You’d rather hang, then?”
Instead of pushing up to her feet like a normal person, she began to float off the ground. An unsettled shiver wound itself through Keaton, his erection — so demanding just moments ago — softening.
“If the alternative is eternal service to one of your kind? Yeah, I’d rather hang.”
Keaton rubbed his hands over his arms, goosebumps remaining on his skin. There was something about the magical energy she put off that wasn’t meant to be experienced by humans. Not for long periods of time.
“Eternal service? Is that what you think I require of you?” her giggle was deceptively girlish. “Oh, my dear, sweet boy. As tempting as that sounds, I have no need of your eternal service unless it’s willing.”
Her gaze slowly swept down his body, lingering on his now-covered crotch. Keaton felt the urge to cover himself up even more and hated the fact that his cock twitched at her regard.
“Then what do you want?” he kept his voice quiet, unsure if his neighbor was able to hear any of this.
“I simply need you to remove a pest from my life.” She looked down at her nails, then buffed them against her chest as if she was actually wearing clothing. “A lord who reneged on a deal with me. That is all.”
“’Remove a pest?’ Speak plainly.”
Agitation rose in him, his body frustrated from being denied the chance to come, his mind frustrated by the fact that he’d fallen for the wiles of yet another person who just wanted to use him.
“Oh, very well. You humans can be so barbaric sometimes.” She scrunched her snub nose. “I want you to kill him. Slit his throat, make him choke on his own bile, gut him as if you are dressing a deer — is that plain enough for you, Keaton?”
Another shudder rippled over him, disgust making his stomach roil right along with it.
“Not going to happen. I’m not going to be your personal debt settler.”
“That implies long time work, and this is merely one job. One job for your freedom.”
The part of him that wanted desperately to live couldn’t just dismiss her out of hand. He had no other plan, and a daemon likely had the power to make good on her claims, even if he still doubted her somewhat. But that desire for self-preservation of the body warred with his need to preserve his spirit.
“I don’t do that anymore,” he said quietly, not looking at her.
“But you have. And you were good at it. Very good.”
Keaton drew in a breath, his eyes closing. He had been very good. One of the best, operating in the shadows without anyone ever knowing his true identity. It’d been easy money, granting him clout with certain organizations and a clear path to progress in life.