Demon King Read Online Free PDF Page B

headboard.
    Her eyes were open.
    “I have you now,” I hissed, in my best imitation of a villain in a spectacle.
    Her mouth opened.
    “Do not scream, or I’ll be forced to gag you.”
    Her tongue came out, slowly, to sensuously lick her lips.
    “You can’t move, can you?”
    “No,” she whispered. “I’m at your mercy.”
    “I can do anything I want, can’t I?”
    “Anything. I deserve your punishment in any way you wish.”
    I climbed onto the bed, pinched one nipple, then the other. She gasped, and pushed her breasts against my hands. I knelt between her thighs, ran my tongue up her sex, then into her. Her thighs tensed against my cheeks as I moved, and she groaned.
    I kept moving in and out of her, as her gasping grew louder and quicker. Her hips began rotating. “Oh yes, oh yes, oh please yes,” she moaned, but I paid no heed. Her hips jerked up, she squealed, and tremors ran through her body. I didn’t stop caressing her with my tongue until the trembling slowed, then I rose over her.
    “Now,” I said, “
now
I’ll make you really come.”
    I slid the head of my cock just into her wetness, then held still. She tried to move against me, but I moved back.
    “Please,” she said. “Please fuck me. Fuck me hard!”
    “Like this?” I took her thighs in both hands, and pulled her to me, driving full into her, and she cried out again. I came back, then forward, moving hard, brutally, and each time she shrieked in near-wordless ecstasy, sometimes my name, sometimes obscenities. I held as long as I could, but at last let go, and with a great shout spattered inside her, feeling the Wheel’s turning not far distant.
    I was half-lying across her, braced on my hands, when I came back to myself. Marán slowly opened her eyes.
    “Let me taste you now.”
    I slipped out of her and moved under her legs until I crouched next to her head. She turned toward me, slipped her tongue out, and licked the head of my cock. “I am still your prisoner, Great Tribune,” she said. “I demand more severe penalties,” she added and took me in her mouth.
    Between then and dawn, I cannot recollect having one coherent thought, especially about emperors and kings.
    • • •
    The emperor’s command to find and interrogate a high-ranking magician became a wearying task. Most of the Kallian seers had died either in the civil war or when the demon brought down Chardin Sher’s final redoubt. The survivors, as far as I was able to discover, had either fled the province or were hiding, and I suspected finding a sorcerer who didn’t want to be found might be like looking for a black cat after midnight on a moonless night.
    But eventually I found one. Much to my embarrassment, he was in my own — or, rather, Prince Reufern’s own — dungeon. According to his file, he was less a practicing magician than a philosopher and teacher. But he had been a friend of Mikael of the Spirits, Mikael Yanthlus, Chardin Sher’s magician, and might help me understand those who would rise against their rulers.
    He was Arimondi Hami, a respected member of Kallio’s highest intellectual circle. He was imprisoned because he refused to acknowledge Numantian authority and, worse, he’d been very vocal about his treason.
    I’d often wondered how a magician, even a fairly minor one, could be held captive. Hami wasn’t kept in some dank, slimy underground cell, but in a very clean, very sterile chamber directly below the citadel’s guard room, and his cell was searched at unpredictable intervals, at least once a week. He had been permitted pen, paper, and any books he wished except those dealing with sorcery. He could have any visitor on the prince’s approved list. His food was prepared by his own chef, and his clothing consisted of freshly woven woolen or cotton robes, without adornment. Any request was carefully examined by Seer Edwy, so he could never assemble the materials for an escape spell.
    A mere scholar instead of a great wizard he may