1. Asmodeus - Demon of Lust: Part 8


    Date: 1/19/2015, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Body modification, Horror, Male/Female, Monster, Pregnant, Romance, Written by women, Author: steelkat29, Rating: 92.3, Source: sexstories.com

    imagine Lilith lurking in the shadows, just waiting for her chance to pull me into oblivion. A smoky mist swirls at our feet as Asmodeus leads me to an unseen destination. When he looks back at me, his red eyes seem to spark in the darkness and his silver hair looks like a crown of glory atop his head. He looks like he belongs here and now that I think about it, I suppose he does. He is a mythical creature walking through the land of dreams. Following directions only he can see, my lover stops walking and pulls me to his side. We stand at the edge of a precipice; the seemingly endless expanse stretched before us is made even more treacherous by the sheer drop which precedes it. The mist which fills it isn’t dark like the vapour surrounding us but silver with thousands of throbbing, weaving threads of gold floating within. It is mesmerising to watch and I am captivated so thoroughly that it seems as if the gold threads are swimming behind my eyes. A sudden heart-stopping jerk brings me back to reality – well, this dream reality anyway. Asmodeus pulls hard on my shoulders and crushes me against his chest protectively. Before I can protest, some earth gives way beneath my feet and I realise how close I came to falling. So hypnotised was I by the golden threads that I almost walked off a cliff. “That is twice now I have endangered you. We must leave.” His voice his firm and his expression resolved but I’m not leaving without a fight. “No! You promised me that I could help ...
    convince my family. I’m staying until I do that.” “Selena...” he groans, disapprovingly. “I’m staying. We can hurry this up and get out of here or we can spend even more time arguing,” I smile a little and turn to face him, “Who knows what kind of trouble I’ll get into if we waste any more time?” He snorts a laugh and takes my hand in his, kissing the palm and lacing our fingers together. “You can be very persuasive,” he grumbles. “It’s a gift,” I reply, as we walk together to the edge of the cliff. “Alright,” I say, “What are we looking at?” “Human dreams,” he answers, reaching into the abyss with a clawed hand and summoning a golden thread to us. As it grows closer, it expands until it resembles thick rope. Each weave of the rope hums with energy and I watch with utter fascination as images dart through them, like little surges of electricity through copper wire. Asmodeus catches the rope as it comes closer still and inspects it. “A female, who goes by the name Layla dreams of her life before the one she now leads.” He explains, his eyes still scrutinising the threads. He draws the rope even closer still and with his power he separates the threads into individual strands and expands the images coursing through them. “This,” he observes, expanding the silently laughing image of a handsome dark skinned man from the woman’s dream, “Is Mark, Layla’s former lover and mentor. It has been decades since Mark has laughed with her like this; I feel her longing for this ease between them to ...
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