Asmodeus - Demon of Lust: Part 8 - Sex Stories

Asmodeus - Demon of Lust: Part 8

... for my misery. The pain seems less severe than I’ve previously experienced though, and for that at least, I am grateful. I am able to keep from throwing up or crying out and even when Asmodeus knocks softly on the door, I am strong enough to turn him away without screaming. He withdraws when he finally realises that I want to suffer alone. * * * * * When I emerge from the bathroom, tear-streaked and sweat-soaked, I’m itching to run back in. If the dread I feel at the thought of seeing my baby’s father isn’t enough of a reason to lock myself in again; then certainly my neglected body is. Sitting on the hard floor and crying for hours hardly does wonders in the personal hygiene department. I push aside my revulsion for the moment though and take a deep breath, squeezing my eyelids shut. When I release the air slowly and open my eyes, Asmodeus is standing a foot away from me. When I look up at him I feel my face crumple again. These damned tears that I thought I’d quashed spill free once more and my throat closes. I can’t find the words; I forget everything I wanted to say, every word that I’d rehearsed in my mind after my heartbroken tears had dried up. God, how he’s changed me. Loud-mouthed Selena, always so quick to talk back is finally rendered speechless. He wraps me up into a tight embrace and it is so unbelievably comforting that I cry harder, squeezing back as hard as I can. I love the way he makes me feel about myself and as much as he’s hurt me, I can’t stay mad at ...

... him. I can’t push him away from me anymore. I can’t pick a fight even where it exists because hurting him hurts me more than anything he could possibly reveal. So what if he’s got a fuck tonne of kids? He’s as old as humanity itself, so I can’t fault him, not really. I could drag this out until the cows come home and whine until my throat is raw but it wouldn’t change anything. He would still have an army of children and I would still love him. Because this is the only reality I care about and if I’m being honest with myself – truly honest – I can say this with absolute certainty. I admit it to myself, finally, finally . My stomach shrivels at the thought of losing him and my heart pounds; this must be love. I don’t think I realised how much he means to me – even when I decided to stay – until just now. Only now, after words of betrayal and farewell stick in my throat, I admit that I love him. Of course I can’t say goodbye; how was I ever foolish enough to think that I could intentionally walk away? All this time I had taken his company for granted because I refused to take responsibility for my situation. It was always his fault that I was with him, his will that I stayed and his magnetism that kept me. Even when I decided to stay, it was for me, so that I could be free – or so I told myself. In my selfishness, I couldn’t see just how much I cared for him. I was able to lie so thoroughly to myself that I was actually convinced I didn’t love him; that I’d stayed because of the ...