Her desire

The sharp thud of the whiskey glass on the black-and-olive marble table made the demons surrounding Striker flinch. With slitted, half-closed eyes, the drunken mercenary looked at the visitors of the bar. A recent conversation with a noble person revealed the memories of recent events. - Kh, Blitz, and.. Who is he.. Moxxie! What a n-o-o-othingness... – the mercenary muttered hoarsely. Stepping over the same moral freaks, soaked in stinking alcohol, Striker was heading home. Native hell swam in the eyes and feelings. His modest dwelling was not far away, otherwise he would have fallen a long time ago, not having gone halfway. Taking off his cowboy hat, the demon carefully hung it on a high ocher coat rack. He forgot about the rest of his clothes. Striker lay down neatly on the unspread sofa and promptly fell asleep. - The next day, the mercenary's head was splitting. He couldn't get out of bed. In addition to the bad state, a booming bell rang out: Brh.. Who needs me?.. - Good morning. - Why are you delaying? Where are you roaming? – breathed disturbing, but restrained female voice. Kh.. Alcohol completely knocked out the memory! The hangover suddenly disappeared. - I beg your pardon, Your Highness. I'm out. Long, boring beeps. - Some kind of arrogant madam, – the mercenary said with disappointment on an exhalation, remembering yesterday's conversation with her, and, putting on his favorite hat, he got to a Gothic castle that was still unknown to him. - Near the entrance was the mistress of this castle. Her milky-colored mantle was close to her body, thus forming an hourglass figure. Striker remembered it reflexively. He had long been tired of syphilis sluts, and even more so stinking fans. Now, before him stood a frantic lady, awaiting her husband's heavy retribution. Of course, her anger is born from bitter tears, and Striker understood this. He understood perfectly. - Your Highness, – the mercenary made a courteous bow, – You wanted to see me. - Yes, I want a progress report from you. Yesterday you were in a strange mood. The demon indifferently checked her in the eyes, without answering anything. - Come after me. Striker followed her, mentally glad she didn't interrogate him about last night. - Climbing the steps, they found themselves in a large hall lit by medieval torches. Portraits of ancestors hung on the walls. The mercenary caught a glimpse of the silhouette of the one who was doomed to death from his own cannon. This did not escape the princess's gaze. - Interested? – Stella's voice sounded quiet, but menacing. Striker opened his eyes a little and slowly turned towards her. He had never heard such intonation from her. Why didn't you kill him? You could... The demon was silent, as usual. He knew it didn't make any sense. What will he tell her? - Right now my husband is having fun with his Blitsy. There was an awkward pause. - Can you stop ignoring me? Or is it too hard for you? The mistress, suppressing aggression, approached Striker and stopped in front of him. The mercenary still looked into her eyes, but remained silent. - I would hate to tell you how handsome and strong you are, but I need revenge. Talion, as it is called in all the worlds. Let Stolas feel my pain before his death, – Stella disappointedly singled out every word she uttered. Take me, demon. She said it as if she didn't believe her words, pointing out the difference in class, because she always felt disgusted to have a connection with beings of lower status. Even so, her slender hand rested on the demon's chin. Striker folded his hands behind his back and, making a frightened and dissatisfied face, carefully stepped back. Pulling himself together, he still calmly said: "I don't quite understand you, Your Highness." “I want you to take me”, – the princess answered rudely. Striker couldn't believe what was happening. His dream of taking over hell by his own efforts fell apart immediately. - I won't take you, Your Highness. At that moment, the lady came close to the demon, he could even feel her warm breath. "Then I'll take you", – she whispered, bending over Striker. - The mercenary did not have time to do anything, as Stella put her fluffy hands on his muscular shoulders. As much as he did not want to obey someone else's will, he still had to put up with it. However, the demon decided to take the initiative. Then he began to kiss her neck, descending lower and lower until he reached her chest. "Fulfill my desire", – Stella whispered with passion, clinging closer to Striker. Her proximity was maddening, reviving diabolical instincts. Suddenly, the demon felt how the woman's body seemed to sparkle. - How I want ... – thought Striker. The demon tore the milky mantle, as if tearing apart the bright infallibility. Everything around them swirled, and he did not notice how they ended up in the bedroom. Striker did not hesitate: he jerked into her, moving quickly and rudely, not caring about Her Highness's feelings. She cried, writhed, and he only smiled, trying to show his lust. “More, more, more…” – she whispered, scratching the demon's back. And the demon moved faster and faster, feeling how Stella's pussy was getting hotter. There was a ringing in his ears, a fog before his eyes, and in his head, obviously, there was only one thought: "How good, damn it..." He couldn't stop, even when he felt that Stella was about to pass out from lack of oxygen; only accelerated the pace, realizing that he was approaching detente. The princess screamed, and he clenched his hands on her waist and continued to move to the beat, feeling how hot jets, flowing down the thighs of the mistress, were absorbed into the sheet. Finally, Striker got out of her and fell onto the bed. - Well, that's all... – he thought, closing his eyes. - The lady woke up when the room was still dark, although the sun was just about to rise. She stretched and opened her eyes... The mercenary was not around. Then she briskly jumped out of bed, put on a shirt and ran barefoot into the corridor. In front of her stood Stolas, smoking kiseru through the window, the frame of which was hung with small sapphires. - Well, how was your night? – he asked bitterly. It was clear that the husband knew everything. - Same as yours. And what? Are you upset about something? - I knew this would happen, – Stolas said, exhaling smoke and looking off into the distance. He didn't want Stella to see him like that. No matter how bitter it was, he forgave her everything. For a long time between us there is no what was before. I think that this doesn't exist... – he snuff out the kiseru in the window and looked at his wife. – Love is a lie invented by us, so as not to feel morally devastated. But what kind of morality can we talk about when we are powerful beings of the most sinful world in the universe? Stella wanted to interrupt, but he continued: “Ha!” – Stolas drawled wearily. – Think for yourself. You did what the sacred law of Moses demanded, breaking the law of hell, losing fidelity to your own husband. Is not heaven close to us in this? - What?! What are you saying?! Great Satan, are you completely crazy?! – Stella cried out with tears in her eyes. – Don't you dare think like that! I won't betray the Goetia! Oh Great Satan! – she began to choke and take on the heart. - Moses is a man, Stolas. After his death, reincarnated demons took control of his teachings to take over the earthly world. What? Do you remember history? Khkh, Stolas, the Earth didn't meet the heavens... – she choked with tears. - I know, Stella. See how fast it can get you emotional.  Stolas smiled ruefully and, turning away from her, began to look at what was happening in the distance. She took quick steps to her room. - Meanwhile, Striker was again pouring alcohol into the inexplicable sensations. He sat at the table and emptied glass after glass.  – I knew what I was doing, but ffff... – he hit the table with his hand furiously. - Hey, man, are you okay? – Sitting at the next table pumped lizard shouted in his direction. The demon raised his head with difficulty and looked at him gloomily, again burying himself in the glass. Images, fragments of some memories were spinning in the head of the mercenary... He saw Stella groaning in front of him as if she was sitting in front of him. He would give anything to bring those fiery memories back to life. Striker felt that the murder of the princess's husband was his last chance to ascend the throne. But it's time to stop thinking about it. The demon finished his whiskey and put the glass on the table...