The Demon's Bride - Sex Stories

The Demon's Bride

... staggered, and dumbfound-seeming expression. How exactly do I explain this to her? Too bad, I won’t be available for a girls-night exclusively sort of event. I like to spoil up my friends a little bit; but then I am awfully and regrettably sorry about my deliberate absence this particular night. “She’s going to the Butterfly Boy’s latest album lunch. She is dying to see Chase one more time, I am imagining,” Zoey relates with a gloomy and darksome countenance. I glare at her reprovingly for that. “It’s not like I am dying to see that moron, Zoey.” “Whatever,” she rolls and wheels her eyes like she is habitually fond and affectionate of doing. Damn her for it! Who is she now? My dating and girl Guide to Men and Bachelors or let’s plainly say my tutor? “Have the best of luck,” Chloe tells me, proceeding on to pat and tap my shoulder and back gently with her hand. Thank goodness for this! I was in serious need and lack of it especially. Chase is one such bad wicked guy. He calls himself a freaking ‘Son of the Devil.’ If you get to pay a random visit to his home, you will definitely know what I am talking about here. At his house, there are crosses turned upside down—hung and dangling in almost every room imaginable. Oh yes—even in his private toilet, can you just picture this? On some cross-correlated picture frames, instead of there being Jesus Christ, there hangs and droops down a certain kind of intensely handsome naked man with ash blond hair, who is this horribly wounded ...

... and gushed and bleeding all over. In his dining room, the bottles of wine here all contain and hold wine that looks as deep and darkly red as blood itself. This is actual wine in any case. Dolls of dragons and vampires and ghouls lie sprawled carelessly and recklessly on his bed. There are even serpents, pythons and poisonous vipers to be exact, in his lounging room, slithering and hissing their way fiercely. At odd, bloodcurdling times I do frankly think that Chase is Satan himself clothed and attired in human flesh and blood. Why does he have to be all this scary and ghoulish? Honestly questioning—why? “Are you a worshipper of the Devil?” I asked him this the other time I was there at his house. I can’t specifically remember when it was essentially. “No; I just worship myself.” “Why, Chase? I believe that there is only one God who is worthy of being worshipped.” He smiled scarily and eerily-like at me; is he human or demon? I can’t exactly tell. “I am just joking by saying this, Mila. I know all this religious stuff and bits and pieces. You don’t have to teach or coach me anything about it from A to Z.” “Then what are these venomous vipers and deadly pythons doing here in your house?” “They are not all that poisonous and deadly actually. I habitually remove their poison if they start to develop or contain any. These small, cutely little creatures are like my best friends here at home. As you can see, this place was once infested and crowded disastrously with rats and mice. I ...