My name is Kiril and I’m a demon prince of the Seventh level of hell currently masquerading as a witch’s familiar.  An incubus to be specific.  Most people know the first part of my mistress’s story but very few know how it continued.  My mistress’s name is Hortense but it is her sister who is the famous one – Cendrillon, now Queen Cendrillon who is married to King Charmian.  Hortense and her sister Euphemia are the villains of the piece.  The ‘ugly’ stepsisters. 

My mistress is very short – only five foot nothing, but she teeters around on very high shoes which take her up to around five foot four.  She also wears her thick ropes of dark brown hair piled up on top of her head to achieve even more height.  It’s a wonder she doesn’t get back ache from one or the other but no, she stalks around with her nose in the air and a terrific glower courtesy of her rather straight and bushy black eyebrows.  Trust me, she’s adorable.

              “I wish to see my sister, slave” she intones imperiously and stands in front of the mirror.  I roll my eyes, not again, always with the sisters.

              “Which one?”

              “Euphemia this time,” she answers for all three of them consider each other sisters.  They may be dysfunctional, but they were always family.

In truth, my mistress is a lousy witch.  She took it up too late in life and does not have the temperament to consort with a coven and learn some really good tricks.  She spends her time pouring over dusty old grimoires written by sad old warlocks puffed up on their own importance when in reality she should be meeting on hangman’s hill, gossiping and dancing naked under the moon.  But Hortense has never been good at making friends and she has hang ups about her curvy little body courtesy of her bloody mother.  I gaze ahead and see it really isn’t convenient for sister Effie right now but being a bastard I display the image anyway with a grin.  Sure enough, Hortense gives an outraged squeak to see her sister on her knees, head bobbing as she enthusiastically sucks her husband’s cock.  Baron Buttons grunts and groans, his hips grinding,

              “Oh yeahhh, suck me,” he groans as his wife cheerfully complies.

              “Cut the connection, fool!” screams Hortense throwing a black candle at my head.  She still hasn’t gotten over the fact her sister, the biggest snob in the family married their old boot-boy let alone that she’s so happy about it.  “Idiot!”

I catch the candle and try to hide my smirk.  She’s such a prude, though in truth I would never let her get a glimpse of old Charmian serving the Queen like that.  I don’t want her getting any ideas.  I turn my gaze onto the mirror once more before making the image vanish.  The baron has grabbed his wife by her red, red hair and is telling her how he’ll punish her if she doesn’t drink every last drop of his cum.  Euphemia’s eyes drift shut as she sighs with pleasure.  They have quite the interesting marriage, those two.  I turn my head to see my own mistress shaking her head as if to rid herself of the spectacle.

              “How dare he?” she mutters furiously.  “Disgusting pig!”

I replay the image in my head but substitute myself for Buttons and skinny Euphemia for my voluptuous mistress.  I grow hard at once.  Not that Hortense notices.  She’s scowling now and thrown herself down onto the faded green sofa, muttering to herself.  I make out the odd word which sounded like ‘men’ and ‘gross’.  I sigh and try not to take it personally, after all strictly speaking I’m a demon not a man. 

              “And you - when I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it immediately!” yells Hortense throwing one of the fringed cushions at me as I duck.  “I’m visually scarred!”

              “I apologise mistress,” I murmur sighing regretfully.  “But my powers…”

              “What?”  Hortense demands sharply her grey eyes narrowing to slits.  “You can’t possibly need that already!”

I bite my lip as if ashamed.

              “Alas mistress, the connection drained so much of my powers…”

              “Oh my gods!” she shrieks in frustration.  “You’re hopeless!  How did I end up with such a weak demon?”

I almost want to laugh but contain myself. 

              “I’m an incubus,” I explain patiently.  “You know how I feed on female sexual energy…”

              “Enough!” she interrupts me irritably having heard this speech before.

I lower my eyes and sigh, watching her from beneath my lids.  God she’s cute. 

              “I’ve made mistress angry,” I say mournfully which earns another angry tut from her. 

              “I couldn’t possibly during the day,” she says tossing her head primly, a pretty blush staining her cheeks.  “You ask too much.”

              “Yes mistress,” I agree meekly and she eyes me suspiciously. 

I let my hand drift to my leather-clad crotch.

              “Perhaps mistress could just …”

Hortense averts her eyes a tick twitching in her cheek.

              “Fine!” she snaps and pats the seat next to her irritably.  I’m over there before you can say lickety-split.  I wish she would lick me like a banana split, but unfortunately my mistress has not yet afforded me that pleasure.  It’s taken me three months to convince her to give me a regular hand-job.  I unlace my crotch and I spring loose, ready for action.  I don’t wear smalls.  I am a demon after all.  Hortense takes a deep breath as I lie back against the couch.  She reaches across to me.

“Oh mistress,” I moan as her small hand attempts to encircle my shaft.  She blinks at me uncertainly. 

“Does that-?”

“Feels so good,” I encourage her, thrusting my cock firmly into her grasp. 

“Um…” she pushes her hand slowly up and down the length, tearing another groan from me.  “Like this?”

“Harder,” I urge her.  “Faster.”

She clumsily complies but somehow, just knowing it’s my cross-patch mistress with her hands on my dick gives me immeasurable pleasure, despite her lack of technique.  I grit my teeth and hiss my pleasure as she picks up the pace and I can’t help from thrusting my hips up when her stroking hand comes down towards my balls.  She adds a second hand to grasp me more firmly now I’m bucking into her hold.  She tentatively drops one hand to finger my balls.

              “Mistress,” I gasp out, and fling my head back along the couch. 

              “Sorry!” she says guiltily, thinking perhaps she’s hurt me.

My eyes fly open.

“Don’t stop for fuck’s sake!” I grind out.

“What did you say?” she gasps in outrage. 

Shit!  Did I say that out loud?

“I mean, please do that again,” I plead.  “You’re so good at this.”

She huffs but gently cups my balls again, making me moan like a bitch.

              “Kiril,” she whispers biting her lip.  “You’re so …big.  I can hardly…”

I shiver, hearing my name on her lips, she rarely calls me by it. 

              “Fuck!” I shout and just like that I spurt all over her, long white ribbons of cum shooting up and hitting her in the face.  She’s so astonished she keeps her firm grip on me as I shoot all over her face and neck.  She closes her eyes and mouth and sits frozen as I unload on her and sink back onto the sofa with a groan.  I’m panting and staring at her in mingled horror and fascination to see my cum glistening all over her pretty face.  Shit, she’s gonna kill me!  I watch, my chest rising and falling as she removes her hand from my now limp cock and rises carefully from the seat and makes her way to the bathroom, her back ramrod straight.  Uh-oh I think, I’m gonna pay for that!   All the while I know there’s a dumb smile playing over my face, okay, so it was totally worth it! 

So I leave it at least half an hour before I go to find her to give her chance to simmer down. Naturally, we live in a windswept grey-stone keep on the top of a hill.  My mistress is an anti-social witch after all.  She always heads for the same place when she’s had any kind of upset to her day.  The treasure tower.  This is where Hortense madly hoards all her wealth and ill-gotten gains like an old miser.  It’s stuffed with jewels, ropes of pearls, caskets of rubies and sacks of gold coin.  This is her insurance against a cruel, harsh world that rejected her as unfit for marriage.  She’s always plotting ways to get more gold, and her latest thing is books on alchemy.  Sure enough, when I get to the top of the stone steps to the uppermost room I find she has done her most secretive, pleasurable thing that she always does when she is in need of a boost.  She has upended five sacks of gold to make a golden dragon’s nest, stripped to her shift and is rolling around in it.  It should be a disgusting spectacle of gold worship, but for me, seeing her, with her hair loose and all twinkling with gold and getting an enticing glimpse of her full milky breasts and rounded buttocks under the thin muslim, I am not so much disgusted as filled with lust.  And not gold lust either. 

              “Mistress,” I breathe when I see her on her back, her rosy nipples hard from the cold coin.  She sits up with a squeak.

              “Who gave you permission to approach me?” she asks haughtily.  “I am most displeased!” 

But I can see her bad mood has now dissipated.  I play along anyway, lowering my gaze.

              “Mistress, please forgive me,” I murmur, dropping to my knees and crawling towards her.  Her eyes widen in alarm and she tries to scoot up to a more dignified seated position.

              “Avert your eyes!” she splutters, trying to pull her shift down around her plump, dimpled knees. 

I’m having none of it and grab her behind both of her knees, pulling her firmly onto her back. 

              “Kiril!” she blurts out in alarm as I lower my face to her rounded belly and nuzzle her through the thin fabric.

              “Mmmm, mistress!” I purr, catching her womanly scent, it’s delicious.  And very strong.  “Did you touch yourself?” I ask raising my head in surprise.

              “How dare you!” she chokes, trying to shove my head away but I catch her hand and sniff her fingers.  And lick them.  It’s unmistakable.  She gasps in outrage and something else.

              “Hmmm,” I ponder.  Is this a part of her gold-worship or something else?  “I want a taste,” I tell her thickly as I run my hands up those milky soft thighs, bunching up her shift as I go. 

              “Absolutely not,” she huffs but her legs fall apart anyway and I snicker inwardly at her token resistance. 

              “Please mistress,” I whine not forgetting to play my role.  I lick a soft-inner thigh anyway, making her cry out. 

              “Just … just a little taste then,” she concedes, her voice wobbling, she bites her rosy underlip and closes her eyes, arching her back on a moan.

I go to town, my mouth hot and wet on her delicious cunt.  I know it must feel good with her back on the cold gold sovereigns.  Hortense keens and cries out as I lick and suckle and rub my nose against her clit before sucking it into my mouth and laving it with my tongue.  She bucks, so I fling her legs over my shoulders and hold her firmly in place, my hands grabbing her hips in a vice-like grip.  She comes apart completely flailing around in the gold and screaming herself hoarse with pleasure.  I lower her back onto the gold pile but settle onto my elbows lazily whirling my tongue over her creamy cunt, lapping up her juices as she moans and recovers from her orgasm.    I can’t help but writhe slowly, my rock hard dick deriving some comfort from the shifting gold like I’m trying to fuck it.  I squeeze my eyes shut from the sensory overload, lifting my head and breathing heavily against her soft lower belly.  Then I feel her hand pat my head, stroke me like a pet.  I look up startled and see her watching me strangely. 

              “Are you okay?”

              “I’m so hard I hurt,” I rasp out.

              “If you want-“ she breaks off.  “After all, what am I saving myself for?”  Her cheeks are scarlet.

              “Are you saying I can fuck you?” I ask bluntly, clambering to my knees.

She nods quickly and I’m tearing at my laces in a frenzy to free my cock and plunge it into her before she changes her mind.  I’m babbling like a madman about how great she is and how much I love her goddamn body.  Hortense clasps me between her knees and braces herself. 

              “Just do it!” she growls at me and when I feel her hands grasp my back I enter her with a firm thrust.  She gasps and our eyes meet.  I expel a breath as she takes one and winces. 

              “Ow!”

              “Sorry!” I grind out, but I’m lying and my brain is shutting down from sheer pleasure of being so deeply inside her.  I shudder.  She’s so tight. 

              “Don’t you dare move!” she chokes out.

              “You’ll adjust,” I gasp.  “Just bear with it.” I brush a conciliatory kiss along her jaw, her neck.  She lies perfectly still.  I realise it’s the first time I’ve kissed her.  I return to her face and she tries to turn away, but I don’t let her.  I want her mouth.  I take it, thoroughly.  When she touches her tongue to mine, I lose it and thrust into her poor stretched little pussy.  She whimpers against my mouth and I manage to regain sanity again, tearing my mouth from hers.

              “Shall I stop?” I ask pained.

She hesitates.

              “No,” she says, and I watch a tear trickle down one of her cheeks.  My cock pulses inside her making us both gasp. 

              “You’re so fucking perfect,” I groan.  “I can’t stand it.”

She stares up at me, her eyes round.  I drop one hand to touch where we’re joined and then move round to her oversensitized clitoris.  She moans and I thrust.  Again, again, and again until I’m mindless and panting and I need to come hard. 

              “I’m gonna pull out,” I tell her and she looks relieved although she tries to hide it.  I kiss her mouth again and she lets me then I pull out and spill my seed all over her pretty pussy and soft belly and collapse against her with a deep groan.  It’s only then that I hear the hammering of the keep door down below and I realise we have company.  Goddamn it!

It takes us at least ten minutes to struggle back into our clothes, we both had gold coins stuck to our nether regions from the sticky fluids we were rolling around in.  Hortense slapped my hands as I tried to peel them from her backside.

              “Leave it!” she snarls, plunging down the tower stairs and nearly breaking her neck on those ridiculous heels.  I pound down behind her, steadying her as she goes.  We’ve both heard the trumpets by now and realise we are honoured with a royal visit.  I groan inwardly.  Just what I need!  I should be lying in a post-coital lull about now after finally claiming my mistress’s pussy.  Instead I’ve got to see that royal prick Charmian.  As luck would have it, by the time we’d lowered the drawbridge and dragged back the bolts we found it was only Queen Cendrillon, her snot-nosed brat Prince Nicholas and one obligatory page. 

              “Put your bloody trumpet away,” I snarled.  My mistress cuffs me absently around the head before embracing her sister.

              “Hortense!” cries the queen.  “It’s been too long!”  She gives me a vague smile.  No doubt her etiquette handbook failed her when it came to demons.

              “Cinders, come in.  Nicholas!”

The brat runs straight into Hortense’s arms and pulls a face at me over her shoulder.

              “Aunty, why don’t you get a nuther servant?” he asks sweetly.  “I don’t like this one.” He says pointing a sticky finger at me.

              “Nicholas dear,” his mother interjected swiftly.  “You mustn’t be rude darling.”

Hortense is too busy fussing over the little bugger, exclaiming over how much he’s grown and how much more handsome he is growing like his papa.  I can feel my hostility growing and that’s before I notice how laden down the royal carriage is with baggage.

              “Could you servant kindly help with our luggage?” Queen Cendrillon asks apologetically.  “You see we’ve come for an extended visit.”  Hortense’s gaze meets mine over the queen’s golden curled head. 

              “Er, of course,” she agrees looking pointedly at me. 

I scowl but made my way out to wear the crested carriage bowing under the weight of its many cases. 

              “How long are they staying?” I growl at the page but he just shrugs nervously. 

              “I don’t think the King even knows she’s left him yet,” he whispers as the first case slips through my fingers and crashes to the ground.  Shit!

We’re quite the merry bunch over dinner.  I slam down the dishes on the table with ill concealed bad grace.  Hortense ignores me and fawns over her beloved nephew and sister.  Usually I sit to dinner with her at the great table.  With visitors here there’s no chance of that and I’m to eat mine below stairs like the good servant.  I grumble under my breath.  Nicholas pokes his tongue out at me when no-one’s looking and slithers onto Hortense’s lap.  I scowl and eye him evilly.  Where I come from no-one dares treat me with disrespect but of course that has all changed since I’ve taken on this role.  Originally when I answered Hortense’s summoning spell it was with the intention of stealing her sweet little soul.  But I was bored and felt like some sport so I decided to humour her and stuck around.  Then I was going to wait till she gave me her virginity.  Of course, I’d had that now, but I’m not ready to descend back to my seventh layer of hell yet.  Oh no.  I want a few more rounds between the bed-sheets before I drag her down there to eternal torment.  I’m not finished with her yet. 

              “Kiril, more wine,” she orders me.  “My sister’s goblet is dry.”

Interesting.  Usually she calls me ‘slave’.  I feel a smirk tugging at my lips. 

              “Of course, mistress,” I materialise the flagon into my hand and pour it for the queen.

              “Goodness, he’s much better than the conjurers at court!” twitters the queen.  Conjurer my ass!  I arch an eyebrow at Hortense but she steadfastly ignores it.  Of course, she hasn’t told them I’m a sex demon which is what she believes.  She clears her throat.

              “And how are things at Court,” she asks bluntly. 

              “Oh fine, fine.” Cendrillon answers weakly.  Even to my eyes she sounds strained and I don’t give a shit.  Unfortunately my mistress does.

              “Still all plotting and gossiping no doubt,” she glowers.  “Has someone upset you?” she asks ominously.

              “No, no of course not,” twitters the Queen nervously.  She nods towards her son and they exchange a significant look that says ‘not in front of the child’.

Hortense manages to grasp this concept although social niceties aren’t usually her forte.

              “How’s that pony of yours Nicky,” she asks instead.  “That pretty little mare you were learning to ride.”

Nicholas starts a long rambling tale about how he’s the best seven year old rider his groom’s ever seen despite the fact his horse bucked him into a ditch last week.  Naturally.  Hortense exclaims and coos over this as if it’s the best fairytale she ever heard.  I roll my eyes.  Of course, I’m not jealous of a seven year old snot nose brat I tell myself.  That would be fucking ridiculous.  I am a prince of hell.  Mortals quake at my feet.  The damned fear me.  My enemies are dust beneath my feet, etc. etc.  A bread roll bounces off my ear and I realise they are expecting their dessert.  Goddamn it! If her bloody highness hadn’t rolled up I could still be between my mistress’s plump thighs even now teaching her to respect my rampant cock.  I visualise a large trembling blancmange in seven tiers of pink glistening perfection.  With a whoosh it lands in the centre of the table earning a gasp from the Queen.  Hortense puffs out in annoyance. 

              “It’s far too big – stop showing off Kiril.”

              “This blancmange has got skin on it,” complains Nicholas.

I stomp downstairs to the kitchen swearing with every step.

After dinner they retire to the great hall and the sisters whisper in front of the fire as Nicholas careers around the draughty hall raising a hullabaloo and demanding that first the page and then myself act as his horsey.  This would usually be beyond the pale however, it means I can get within spitting distance of the sisters every so often and catch snatches of their conversation.  It sounds very intriguing.

              “… puts me on a pedestal,” whispers Cendrillon.  “Won’t treat me like a real woman…. Worse since I became a mother.  He thinks I’m a paragon of virtue and won’t besmirch me!” She snivels into her lace handkerchief as my mistress sits there looking thunderstruck and completely out of her depth.  I grin to myself ridiculously pleased that smug bastard Charmian is a dud in the sack.   So much for the perfect husband!  I snigger up my sleeve until I hear Hortense suggest they consult Euphemia.  More visitors!  Was I never going to get her to myself again? 

              “But it would take days for a letter to reach our sister,” states Cendrillon glumly.

              “Not necessarily, we can use my magic mirror,” points out Hortense.

              “Let’s do it now!” exclaims the queen clapping her hands. 

Hortense looks at the clock and the advanced hour.

              “Err, Effie may be in her bedchamber, asleep now,” she stresses anxious to avoid another spectacle like earlier.  Her cheeks turn pink.  “It may be best to contact her in the morning.” 

I try to catch her eye so I can leer at her, but she refuses to look in my direction.   Spoilsport. 

After the Queen and Nicholas are settled in the South tower for the night I start madly plotting reasons why Hortense should have to admit me into her bed that night.  The blancmange!  I can claim it sapped all my strength I realise with relish.  But Hortense takes me by surprise and confronts me in her nightgown as soon as I’ve dragged in the last trunk.  I lick my lips even though its one of those long cotton virginal numbers.  I can see the outline of her full breasts and the shadow of her mons beneath the well-worn cotton.

              “Lean down to me,” she commands imperiously.

I blink in surprise, but before I’ve done more than stoop a few inches she grabs a vicious hold of my ear lobe.

              “Ow!”

              “You are not to approach my sister for energy ever!  Do I make myself plain?”

I goggle at her in disbelief as it occurs to me that she thinks I could be interested in that insipid blonde. 

              “Why would I?  When I have you mistress?” I answer with alacrity.

She hesitates.

              “I’m aware that my sister may be… a little frustrated.  That would no doubt be a red flag to your bull,” she sniffs.

I wrap my head around this remembering again that she believes me to be an incubus.  Naturally, an incubus would be all over that shit.  She’s not stupid. 

              “I understand mistress.”  I lower my gaze.  “It will be difficult,” I bite my lip.  “But if you could keep me sufficiently distracted from her draw then I believe I can withstand it.”

She lets out a whoosh of air and I realise that she’s relieved.  It occurs to me that maybe my plump little mistress is jealous?  I have to try hard to keep my lips from curving into a smile. 

              “You will sleep with me tonight and every night that my sister remains here.”

I try to keep my eyes from popping out of my head.

              “Yes mistress,” I answer meekly dropping my gaze so she can’t see my jubilation. 

              “If you betray me,” she says nastily.  “I will make you suffer for it.  Believe me.”

I widen my eyes for her obligingly to show my terror.  God, she makes me hard.   And now she believes she has to keep me satisfied or I might turn my gaze in another direction.  It’s almost too good to be true.

I fuck my mistress’s pussy long hours into the night.  Over and over again, I thrust and thrust against her milky white, soft warm body.  She moans and writhes under me and comes and comes as I pleasure us both with my demon cock.  I am mostly gentle as it was only that morning that I broke her hymen and I don’t want to make her too sore.  Even though her body is so voluptuous and bountiful, her cunny is small, tight and unused before me.  The thought of that makes my chest clench.  Each time I stroke into that warm, wet little sheath my head pounds with one thought “Mine”.  I grit my teeth and lock my jaw when it’s time to pull out of her and spill my seed.  Each time it’s harder than before and I realise I want to come inside her.  I want that more than anything.  A naughty thought enters my head, I lean down to whisper in my ear.

              “There’s one way to enslave an incubus,” I tell her.  “And ensure he never looks at another woman.”

Her eyes are unfocussed,

              “What is it?” she moans, biting her bottom lip and arching her back.  “Tell me.”  Her breasts are thrust up at me and I lean down for a good hard suck on her dark pink nipples.  Mmmmm, delicious.  Like raspberries.

She cries out and her cunt clenches me so tight I give a deep dirty groan.

              “Mistress, yessss…”  Fuck me, she’s good.  I could never get tired of this pussy I think dazedly.   “Please, please do that again…”

Dimly I realise I am pleading, I, Kiril, Demon Prince of the seventh layer of hell am pleading this plump little almost-virgin with whom I have done nothing but the missionary position all night as if her cunny was paved with liquid gold.

She stares up at me before giving a slow roll of her hips which gives me such a nice deep squeeze I moan aloud like a bitch and beads of sweat start to stand out on my forehead.  Shit. 

              “It’s to take his seed deep inside of you,” I groan, biting my bottom lip and praying she takes the bait.  I wanna shoot my load in her so bad it’s a physical ache in my balls. 

Her eyes go wide.

              “Is that true,” she asks tremulously.

              “Gods yes,” I grunt with a nice deep thrust that nearly makes me go cross-eyed with pleasure.

              “Then… then yes,” she whispers.

With great restraint I manage not to blow my wad on the spot,

              “Then you have to demand it,” I tell her casting down my eyes.  “You have to draw it out of me.”  Yes, I am one twisted son of a bitch.  “It won’t be easy,” I lie, biting my lip as though downcast. 

              “How?” she pants, chest heaving.  “I don’t know how to do it.”

In one motion I roll us over so that she is on top.  She yelps in confusion and possibly cos my penetration is nice and deep this way. 

              “Like you did a minute ago,” I urge pushing her knees out so our groins are flush against each other and she sinks down that little bit further on my big nasty cock.  “Tighten up inside and milk it out of me.”

She pauses,

              “But I feel so full this way,” she whispers.  “You’re so big…”

              “I know you can do it Hortense,” I groan. 

She bites her lip and tentatively sucks in a breath, internally squeezing me at the same time.  Her eyes squeeze shut as I feel myself pulse deep within her.

I thrash my head on the pillow.  It feels too fucking good and I am too fucking close.  Her impossible tightness surrounds my straining purple cock, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing as she whimpers and I fling back my head and roar as I start to spurt.  Her eyes fling wide, as do mine.  Shit I’m coming!  And I didn’t even make her work for it!

              “Yes, give it to me Kiril.” She groans.  “Just give it to me, don’t fight it.”

I yell as the torturous squeeze-release continues, milking my furious cock and thankful balls of all their cum which she suctions from me into her, digging her heels into the mattress and giving little bounces as she takes it, takes it all, emptying me of my demon seed and drawing it all deep within her.  It goes on and on and I can’t stop spurting and spurting into her, staring up into her stormy grey eyes until she cries out and falls forward limp onto my chest.  My arms close around her instantly and I cradle her to me tightly.  We both lay there trembling.  I’m not capable of actual words by this point.  Holy shit.  I may have been lying but I think the end result may be the same.  I’m in serious trouble.

Next morning I rise earlier than usual and summon a hot bath for my lady, realising she won’t let me join her in the cold light of day.  More’s the pity.  I wash out of the ewer and bowl on the side before lacing on my leather trousers and pulling a clean tunic over my head.  Hortense avoids my eyes until she’s dressed and I feel oddly subdued enough to let her get away with this.  We make our way down to breakfast in uncharacteristic silence.  This silence is shattered once we’re in the great hall of course as bloody Nicholas is there galloping around there astride an old mop out of the scullery.

              “Mama forgot my hobby horse,” he announces imperiously.  “But this thing is almost as good.  What is it?” 

I ignore him as Hortense attempts to coax the dirty old thing from his princely grasp.   I set the breakfast table with a sweep of my arm.  No need to make any pretence this morning as mistress will no doubt believe me fully juiced up on power after last night’s sexathon.   Nicholas forgets his mop in an instant, letting it fall to the ground with a clatter as he scrambles into a seat and falls onto the platters of bread, ham and fruit with greedy abandon.  A dainty step announces his mother’s arrival.  She trails in looking pale and miserable.  I roll my eyes as Hortense starts forward to kiss her on her cheek and pour her a cup of tea.  Filthy habit.  Everyone knows ale is the only acceptable morning beverage.  Largely ignored I carry on outside where a cold mist is rising up from the ground after last night’s hard freeze.  I breathe out puffs of air as I stride towards the woodpile to the north of the grey stone keep.  Grabbing the axe I give it a few good swings before starting on decimating a tree trunk.  I’ve filled two baskets before I realise I’m no longer alone.  There leaning one pointed red leather boot against my woodstack is my older brother Merrick.  Prince of the sixth level of hell.  I drop my axe.

              “What the hells are you doing here?” I demand.

              “That brother, ought to be my question,” he answers with his deep rumbling voice as he folds his great brawny arms and gazes around us in disbelief.  “Have you been here the entire time you’ve been above ground?”

I hear the incredulity in his voice and bristle.  It’s not that bad!  I shrug evasively.

              “What’s it to you?” I grouch.  You’re not my keeper.” 

He snorts as I reach for my axe and heft it over my shoulder showing my rippling muscle.  When you’re the youngest of seven brothers you have to show you can’t be pushed around.  Especially when you’re all princes of hell.  Of course, we’re much the same size so my impressive physique is unlikely to intimidate him much.  Merrick is decked out in his usual red leather, complete with studded cod-piece.  Subtle. 

              “What are you now – a servant boy?” he sneers.  “Running errands for your mistress?”

Then I start to see the red mist.

              “Have you been spying on me?” I roar.

He raises his arms in a conciliatory fashion.

              “Easy brother,” he winces.  “Of course not.”

I narrow my eyes, jabbing a finger in his chest.

              “Then how do you know I have a mistress?” I snarl.

He raises an eyebrow,

              “Because your name is Kiril,” he snorts.  “And you’re only ever vertical when you’re not horizontal.”

I relax my rigid muscles a bit.

              “Plus you reek of human female,” he mutters.  “It’s coming out of your pores.”

To my own astonishment I feel the tips of my ears redden.  Really Kiril?  Blushing?  You?  Sometimes I astonish even myself. 

My brother’s jaw drops.

              “Alright, that’s it!” He shakes his head.  “What the fuck’s going on with you?” With an effort I get a hold of myself.

              “It’s nothing,” I tell him abruptly.  “Just a scam, a ruse.  The usual.” 

              “The usual?  It doesn’t usually take you three months,” he stresses darkly.

Three months!  He’s right.  But how do I explain that Hortense was a tough nut to crack.  That I didn’t want to crack her open and steal her sweet kernel and run.  That I wanted to savour this one.  He’s my brother.  We don’t do those kind of talks for fuck’s sake.

              “It’s a tricky one,” I tell him.  “I’ll be another month.  At most.”

              “Another month!  You have got to be joking Kiril!  You have duties.  Below stairs.  People have been asking for you.  Jorad ” he says significantly naming our oldest brother, “is asking for you.” 

              “I am not coming back yet,” I hiss at him in a furious undertone.  “I’ve got things on the burner.”

I stare at him almost wildly.  No way I’m leaving yet!  I’ve only just got Hortense’s sweet little ass where I want her which is firmly underneath me and I’m damned if I’m gonna hightail it back to hell before I’ve thoroughly fucked her every which way but lose.

              “Who the hells is this woman?” he shakes his head.  “Oh she’s got you twisted up in knots brother.”

              “Don’t be bloody ridiculous,” I snarl.  “She’s nothing, nobody.  A minor level witch.  She can’t even tell her arse from her elbow.”

              “Is that a fact?”

              “It is.  What?  You think I’ve become enslaved to some poor little virgin and now can’t call my soul my own?” I mock. 

              “Virgin?” echoes Merrick derisively.  “You’re trying to tell me you’ve spent three months wooing a virgin?”

              “She’s not a virgin anymore, obviously.” I enounce viciously, glad my brother will never know how true his statement was until yesterday.  The thought almost breaks me out in a cold sweat.  How can I explain it to him when I can’t even to myself? 

              “Look Merrick,” I try for a calmer tone.  “I need a little more time.  Okay?”

              “I’m sick of covering for you Kiril,” he growls. 

              “I appreciate that.  But … this is important.”  I’m grasping at straws now.  Casting about for something, anything.  “I’ll owe you. “ I tell him as earnestly as I can even though my reputation isn’t exactly for trustworthiness or even gratitude.  In fact, quite the opposite.  What can I say?  I’m the probably one of the worst of all seven of us. 

Merrick sighs.

              “You’re still such a little shit Kiril, even if you are as big as me now.” He looks me up and down derisively.  “Seriously, you’re a woodcutter now?”

I can hardly explain this has been the only outlet for my sexual frustration for three whole months.  That and a daily hand-job.  Still, that’s all over now I tell myself and focus on the prize. 

              “One more month,” I say holding up a finger.  “I swear it.”

I’m on edge when I return to the keep, slamming my way through the big oak double doors and dropping the basket of wood next to the huge stone hearth. 

              “Can he do the mirror trick now?” bleats Cendrillon at once even though she seems barely to have breakfasted.  Maybe that’s why the prince can’t get it up, I think she’s got no meat on her bones to tempt a man.  Not like Hortense.   I start stacking the wood in the hearth over the kindling, ignoring the Queen.

              “After breakfast,” murmurs Hortense.  “Have another cup of tea sister.”  And then it hits me, why I’m so pissed off.  It’s the way she bills and coos over her family and yet only ever gives me the sharp edge of her tongue.  I glare moodily into the hearth as I light it from hellfire at my fingertips.  A neat trick.  I see Prince Nicholas’ eyes go wide and wink at him.  He gapes. 

              “Ow ee oo at?” he mumbles through his bread roll.

              “Don’t talk with your mouth full darling,” reproaches Cendrillon automatically. 

Hortense is toying with her plate of ham, not tucking in with her usual appetite.  I realise she is watching me furtively through her eyelashes.  Well, well.  Is she thinking about last night?   I wonder and a shiver runs down my spine.  I stare at her lips which look a little redder and plumper this morning from all my kisses.  That’s one good thing about the missionary position, I muse, you can kiss during it.  Over and over again.  Something I never really appreciated before now, the pleasure of kisses.  I remember how she felt spasming around my cock and I feel my gaze catch fire as I snare her in it.  She stares back a moment before dropping her fork and surging to her feet. 

              “Kiril,” she says clearing her throat.  “The mirror.”

Sister Euphemia is more prepared for us today, she talks smugly about her blissful married life for thirty minutes before she and the baron’s three daughters are paraded for inspection.  They are three of the plainest specimens of budding womanhood I have ever seen, but clearly their mother dotes on them.  They sport bright red braids and are covered in freckles and although each have eighteen months between them look like the same child at different ages.  Cendrillon and Hortense exclaim over how they’ve grown and are given demonstrations on their progress with the violin, their ballet lessons and poetry recital.  I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure they murder each of their arts with relish.  Prince Nicholas grimaces horribly at their performance and puts his hands over his ears.  They simper and blow him kisses as their mother reciprocates by admiring his blonde perfection.  Cendrillon preens at this until finally Euphemia seems to realise that her sisters wish for some private conversation and she sends off her daughters fondly to the schoolroom.  Nicholas is also dispatched to play outside with the long-suffering page.  Hortense tries to wave me away but I waggle my eyebrows and convey that the connection will be broken without my presence.  She huffs in irritation and suffers me to remain in the room exchanging a hurried whispered conversation with Cendrillon who looks vaguely annoyed but resigned.

              “We can rely on your utmost discretion I hope,” she twitters.

Hortense gives me a baleful glare. 

              “I would not dare betray my mistress,” I assure the queen glibly.  She seems content with this though Hortense sniffs.

              “And um, where is dear Buttons?” asks Cendrillon pointedly.

Euphemia settles onto the sofa. 

              “Oh he’s gone to look at some horse flesh,” she confides.  “He wants to put his best bay mare to stud.”

Hortense frowns as if she doesn’t think this is a fitting conversation.  She kills me, really.  Cendrillon hurriedly skates over this.

              “It’s just that we wished to have some female conversation.  Woman to woman.”

              “Cendrillon needs some marital advice,” cuts in Hortense.  “You and Buttons seem very happy still despite having three children.”

Euphemia smiles dreamily.

              “Oh yes,” she gushes.  “Deliriously.”

              “And er… how do you manage that?” asks Hortense leaning forward.  “Cendrillon has found that um – since she’s had Nicholas relations have fallen off somewhat….”

As Euphemia frowns, the queen leans forward and clears her throat.

              “In the marital chamber,” she clarifies delicately and places her handkerchief to her throat.

Euphemia’s eyes grow wide.

              “Oh I see …”  Her red eyebrows snap together in a frown.  “He hasn’t taken a mistress?”  she gasps in horror.

Hortense’s head whips around to stare at Cendrillon.

              “Oh no,” bleats the queen.  “That is, I’m sure he would never do that.”  Her voice wobbles uncertainly.  “At least,” she gulps.  “I do hope not!”

              “How long has it been?” asks Euphemia leaning forward.  “Since he came to your bedchamber?”

Cendrillon coughs.

              “Perhaps it is not a suitable subject…” she turns apologetically to Hortense.  “For our unwed sister…” her voice trails off and my mistress’s cheeks turn quite pink as her meaning sinks in.

              “Don’t be ridiculous Cinders,” snorts Euphemia.  “Haven’t you seen that manservant of hers?  The brawny one with the muscles and the buns of steel …”

I’m curious to see where this is going but my mistress cuts her off with a choked.

              “Effie!”

Cendrillon’s startled gaze passes over me as if she hadn’t really considered me as a male before.  That’s royalty for you.  What she sees makes her blush faintly.  She darts an alarmed look at Hortense. 

              “Sister surely not…”

Hortense clears her throat.

              “Let’s get back to the subject at hand,” she snaps irritably, her colour still high.

Euphemia smirks in a manner which says ‘we will discuss this at some later point sister’ but goes along with it for now.  She claps her hands together making her lacy sleeves fly.

              “Let us focus sisters!” she trills.  “Cinders, you need to tell us the truth now.  How long has it been since the King came to your bed?”

The next hour flies by for me as I listen to Euphemia’s instructions on pleasing a man.  Hortense refuses to meet my eyes after the first few moments of discourse.  Let’s just say I can understand why the Baron has forgiven her for being such a bitch before he was elevated from his man-servant status.  She’s more than made up for it since by the sounds of it.  Both Hortense and Cendrillon have slightly glazed expressions on their faces by the end of her lesson.  They interrupt her with the odd high pitched protest such as ‘in your mouth?’ or ‘you put your finger where?’.   Euphemia gives them a demonstration with a banana which has Cinders jaw dropping with astonishment.  I have to hide my amusement or I know I will be sleeping in the shed tonight.  Eventually Euphemia breaks off to exclaim her husband will soon return from the stables and will be wanting his tea on the table.  She gives her sisters a pep talk on knowing they can do it and bids them a cheery goodbye as I re-hang the mirror, carefully draping the cloth back over it.  Hortense blinks and then notices that their tea tray has gone quite cold.  She fusses over this noisily as Cinders absently pats her ringlets staring off thoughtfully into space.

              “How very extraordinary!” Cinders murmurs.  “And to think dear Buttons would expect such things from his wife....”

Hortense frowns at this doubtless remembering the eyeful she got of her sister pleasuring him with her mouth the day before.

              “I think our sister must know what she’s about,” she demurs.  “After all, they do have three children.”

The queen seemed struck by this observation.

              “True… true.  And yet,” she hesitates delicately.  “Buttons was common-born.  It’s possible his tastes may be somewhat unrefined.  Whereas dear Charmian was born a prince…”

Hortense huffs heavily at this.

              “I don’t think that makes any difference,” she admits grudgingly.  “All men are pigs in this department.”  She looks me straight in the eye for the first time in a while.  “Kiril, that trick with the banana…?”

              “All men would like that,” I answer with alacrity. 

              “See?” she turns to her sister.

Cinders splutters delicately, but it seems she got the idea.  As well she should, I am a prince just as much as that twit she’s wed to.  I can’t help but imagine my mistress on her knees before me, and have to force the image out of my head before I embarrass myself, my trousers are quite tight.

How I got through the next few hours until bedtime is a mystery.  I was hard as hell imaging Hortense in one of her resourceful sister’s scenarios.  My mind was running riot!  It seemed like an age before I had her alone to myself in the bedroom at the top of the tower.  Immediately that we were alone I pounced on her, and in her determination to keep me from precious Cendrillon she was nothing loth, letting me kiss and nuzzle her neck although she was still stingy with her lips.  I go to town on her nice plump breasts tonight before getting down to the main business of rutting her like a sailor on shore leave.  I can’t help but feel I haven’t done them justice in our previous couplings.  This time I pet and suckle and rub and squeeze to my heart’s content before she loses patience and demands I get to it and quit teasing her.  This time I get her up on her knees, impaling her in one dizzying thrust before I seize her hips and start an easy grind from behind.  The way her breath catches on a breathy little moan each time I surge forward starts getting to me immediately.  I find myself craning to hear it.  I want her vocal, I want to hear exactly what my dick is doing to her. 

              “Is this good Mistress?” I ask her silkily.  “Or do you want it harder?”  I give a good hard buck of my hips making her give a startled groan. 

I grit my teeth against the pleasure which has me hardening even further.  Oh fuck me, that is good… but no way I’d last long banging her like that.  Unable to help myself I increase the pace anyway, thrusting against her so my balls slap against her warm willing flesh.  Gods, her body drives me wild.  She’s so soft and feels so good beneath me.  My eyes are glued to her undulating back, her curvy little ass bouncing back against my hips.  I love her body, but it’s not just that.  It’s knowing it’s her allowing me these liberties, fucking me back.  It makes my blood pound in my ears, I’m breathing like a goddamn bull.  I want to hear her voice.

              “Hortense,” I plead.

              “Don’t stop,” she breathes.  “Oh … Kiril!  Yes!  You feel so good…”

              “Like that?”

              “Yes – oh please…!”

She tenses and I know she’s about to come.  Her hands clutch against the bedsheets and she braces herself.  I yank her back into my lap and drop back onto my haunches.  She squeaks at the change of position but I’m nice and deep and I feel her start to tighten about my cock as I grab her jaw and angle her face for my kiss.  Gods, her mouth on mine makes me want to explode but I want her to come on my dick first.  I slip my fingers between her cunny lips and circle her clit till she’s mewling and writhing in my lap, still I won’t release her mouth, the fingers of my other hand plunging into the hair at the nape of her neck and holding her fast.  I mate my tongue to hers in a desperate hot wet slide.  It’s like I’m trying to tell her something,

To convey some message of belonging.  Only when her hands slide down my back, clinging and grasping me tight as my hips roll do I tear my mouth away, gasping for air and bellowing as we come together.  It’s intense.  I’m not the most instinctive person in the world but even I realise this is not just a fantastic fuck.  I’m in love with her.  I groan as I tip us forward and lower us both to the mattress.  I slide my hands around her waist and down to cup her pussy, holding her flush against my dick.  I don’t want to pull out.  I feel almost euphoric, but the sounds of our heavy breathing aren’t enough.  I want words between us but have no clue where to even start so instead I kiss her soft round shoulder.  I’m so screwed. 

The next morning I hear the heavy bang on the castle door and swear I’ve got déjà vu.  I roll over with a groan and nearly squash my mistress who is pressed up against my back with her arm about my waist.  Seeing her pale, dimpled arm about my tanned body makes my morning wood especially happy.  Before I’ve done more than kiss the top of her riotous dark curly head the hammering penetrates my senses again and I sit up with a muffled curse.

She stirs beside me.

              “Make them stop,” she implores, dragging a pillow over her head. 

I can’t help but grin at this sleepy display after I kept her up into the early hours with my athletic ardour. 

I make my way to the door, yanking on my leather pants over my bare butt as I start down the winding staircase. 

              “Hold your bloody horses,” I grouch irritably.

By the time I reach the front door I’ve worked myself into a right attitude.  I wrench open the door and the twit in the scarlet uniform practically falls through the door.  Yeah, it’s King Charmian, the guy doesn’t even knock his own doors.  He looks down at his scrambling attendant and then at me in seeming confusion. 

              “Yeah?” I snarl.  “What d’you want?”

He doesn’t even blink.

              “To speak to my sister-in-law,” he answers tiredly and I notice the stubble and the crooked wig.  He looks like crap.  I open the door wider and he sidles past me, scrubbing at his jaw.  I’ve gotta hand it to him, if that little shit Nicholas was mine I’d be relishing the break but he looks a genuinely broken man.   He turns his red-rimmed eyes to me mournfully as he troops through to the sitting room where he collapses onto a seat. 

              “Please tell me my wife’s here,” he sighs mournfully.

I look at the poor bastard and I know Hortense will put him through the wringer.  Okay, part of it is jealousy that I don’t want my little cross-patch mistress bending his ear.  That’s my role.  But I do feel a genuine glimmer of compassion, and don’t forget I’m a prince of hell so this is not a natural phenomena for me.  I look him up and down, the air of despair that hangs over his hand-dog expression.  I tip my head significantly and spin on my heel.  Either he’ll take the hint or he won’t.  I hear the ringing footsteps behind me and realise he’s not as slow on the uptake as I would have thought.  I lead him to the South tower where his recalcitrant wife is ensconced.  I open the door for him and give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.  He starts up the stairs with a hopeful look on his face and I close the door firmly behind him.  I briefly think of the highlights from sister Effie’s speech from yesterday and wonder if Cendrillon will succeed in setting the pedestal to rest.  Or rather getting Charmian to fuck her over it.   I don’t dwell on it for too long as I want to get back to Hortense all warm and sleepy in her nest.  Sadly when I get there she’s already shrugging on a purple billowing robe.  I frown and get under her feet as she twists her hair up and lines her eyes with customary smoky eyeliner.  She snaps and snarls at me as I catch her about the waist and nuzzle the back of her neck.

              “Who was it?  At the door?” she asks batting me away and stepping into sky-scraping spiky shoes. 

              “Charmian,” I admit reluctantly.

She wheels around.

              “What?  Why didn’t you tell me?” she shrieks.  “Where is he?  Did you tell my sister?”

              “Uh-huh,” I avoid her gaze. 

She stomps over to me and yanks on my ear lobe.

              “Look me in the eye,” she growls meanly.  God, she’s incredible.  Unable to restrain myself I stroke her plump rounded backside.  She slaps my fingers hard and whirls around in a swirl of silk and bushy eyebrows and stalks to the staircase on her spiked heels.   “Stay out of my way,” she yells as I caper around her trying to stop her from breaking her neck on her precipitous descent.   She doesn’t come up much further than my goddamn navel but I swear she thinks I’d come off the loser if we went toe-to-toe.  And damned if she wouldn’t be right.  She creates merry hell when I tell her Charmian is in the South tower with his wife.  She paces and frets for the next two hours, scolding me and banging doors until her precious nephew emerges for his breakfast and then she tones it down although she finds ways to let me know I’m still in her bad books.  I realise I’ve a smile playing about my lips the entire time I’m with her.   I have to hide it when her eyes shoot daggers at me as I know she won’t appreciate it.  I know it’s twisted, and I don’t really understand it but somehow when I’m with her, I’m always having a blast.  I wouldn’t even know how to begin to explain it to any of my six brothers or even worse, my smart-arse sister.  They all know me as a bit of a using bastard when it comes to women.  Yeah, my track-record’s not great.  But I never met anyone like her before.  And then it hits me, I want to be with this scowling bad tempered wench for the rest of my life.  It hits me right between the eyes.  And pretty much instantaneously the realisation sinks in that I haven’t got a hope in hell of keeping her when she finds out the truth.  That I’ve lied about pretty much everything.  About being her familiar, about being an incubus, and well… not being a prince of hell.  And when she finds out, there’s gonna be hell to pay.  But not my own level of hell where I call the shots.  No, I’m talking about my own personal level of hell.  One where I don’t get to be with her.   And once I realise it, I start to sweat.  I start to feel vulnerable.  I know it’s all going to go horribly wrong.  Only thing is, I didn’t realise just how soon that would be.

Charmian and Cendrillon don’t emerge until lunchtime and clearly all is smelling of roses between them which is lucky as their attendants are drifting round getting on everyone’s nerves and Nicholas is tetchy and whining about wanting his pony and his nanny Margaret who live at the palace.  Luckily Charmian is keen to get on the road and not hang about.  Hortense has me magic up a picnic basket for them and I even help strap their luggage to the roof while Hortense fusses over goodbyes with her nephew.  Cendrillon hangs about her neck as much as the kid and extracts a promise of a visit to the castle which I know my mistress can’t stand.  Hortense stands on the uppermost turrets of the keep waving a purple handkerchief until the carriage has disappeared from view then she turns to me and bursts into tears.  She lets me hold her close and rub her back as she sniffs and sobs into my shirt.  I realise that instead of finding this irritating I actually find it cute.  Cute.  A word that wasn’t even in my vocabulary until recently.  And even worse, seeing Hortense fawning over Sticky Nicky has me wondering what kind of a mother she’d make.  If she can dote on that little swine she’d be able to find it in her heart to nurture even my hellspawn.  Yeah, that’s right I’m looking at her and thinking she’s the future mother of my children.  I’m no sooner wondering if it’s too soon to start bleating about needing a power top-up after conjuring the hamper then I feel a pricking of my thumbs and catch a whiff of sulphur.  Shit!  Looking over my mistress’s shoulder I see them materialising and realise the jig is up.  We’ve no sooner gotten rid of her family then mine have appeared.  Goddamn it!  Jorad, Merrell, Andarl, Ragnall they’re all here and glowering at me. Hortense stiffens in my arms and whips around,

              “Who the hell are you?” she yells finding six rippling leathered up interlopers on her property. 

I wince. 

              “Now just wait a minute …” I intercede, holding up my hands palm first.  A set of iron chains instantly ping into place around my wrists and ankles.

              “Jorad!” I roar, looking at my eldest and most truculent brother.

He raises an eyebrow at me.

              “This,” he growls incredulously.  “Is what you’ve been squandering your time on.  Shirking your duties over?” 

Hortense is following this with a formidable frown on her pretty little face.  

              “Release my familiar at once,” she demands gruffly, pointing a finger at my chains.  “How dare you come  into my home and try to take what is mine.” 

Jorad glares back at her.

              “Who’s this plump little morsel?” he snarls.

              “She’s mine,” I growl yanking on my chains. 

He lifts an eyebrow at Hortense and then swivels to look at me in disbelief.

              “You’re neglecting your duties in hell for this?” he demands.

I take a deep breath but that’s when Merrick decides to step in.

              “So this is the third rate witch who doesn’t know her arse from her elbow?” he cuts in sounding intrigued.  “Finally, we meet.”

Hortense stiffens.

              “What?” she seethes shooting him a murderous look.

              “His words not mine,” shrugs Merrick and I resolve to kill the bastard as soon as I’m freed from my chains. 

Hortense turns her head to look at me and I can see she’s wounded at my thoughtless words.  She jabs a finger in my chest. 

              “Did you describe me in those terms?” she hisses.

              “Now listen love, I was just trying to fob him off…” I babble desperately.  “They’re lying bastards the both of them.  Don’t listen to a word they say about me…”

She stares at me blankly.

              “What do they mean by neglecting duties in hell?” she asks sharply, cutting to the crux of it at once.  Seeing my mouth open and close, she swivels on her spiked heel to Jorad.  “You,” she says narrowly.  “Explain!”

He raises an eyebrow at this.

              “Your familiar,” he snorts.  “Happens to be my youngest brother Kiril, prince of the seventh layer of hell. ”

              “Prince Kiril?” she echoes coldly turning to me.  “You lied to me.  You were lying to me all along,” she says slowly and her voice cracks slightly at the end which breaks my heart a little.

I lick my lips which are suddenly dry.

              “Not … about the important stuff,” I prevaricate.

“Are you… Is your name even Kiril?”

“Of course it is.”

“And you’re an incubus I trapped in my binding spell and now you have to serve me?”

Merrick laughs.

              “Is that what he told you sweetheart?” he asks sounding amused.

I shoot him a furious look.

              “Shut the fuck up Merrick!”

              “So I didn’t manage to bind you?” she asks looking self-conscious.  “I did the spell wrong then?”  Her voice catches with insecurity.  I hate it when she looks unsure of herself like that.   

              “The likes of you couldn’t bind him woman,” snorts Jorad arrogantly.  “He’s a prince of hell.”

I lean as far forward as I can, trying to shut them all out.  Trying to make it just the two of us.

              “Hortense, I may have lied a little,” I stress, “but you do know me…” I tell her in an urgent undertone.  “You know me where it counts.”

              “A prince of hell,” she whispers.  “I don’t even know what that is.”

              “It doesn’t matter what it is,” I tell her sounding pained even to my own ears.  “Everything I am is yours.”

She hasn’t heard me though I hear my brother’s indrawn sharp breaths.  The biggest declaration of my life and she’s oblivious.  Her eyes are glazed over, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Then why?  Why did you stay here with me?  Was it a joke?  A joke at my expense?” She swallows painfully.  “Because I was an ignorant virgin playing at witchcraft and you wanted to teach me a lesson…”

              “No,” I answer hoarsely.  Suddenly I’m afraid as I realise this is her biggest fear.  Being made fun of, being mocked, rejected.  She’ll push me away rather than suffer this fate again.  I take a deep breath, I need to tell her the truth for once.  Before it’s too late.  “Maybe at first,” I admit reluctantly.  “But not anymore.  Not anymore.”

              “You …how could you?” she whispers raggedly, staring at me in misery, closing her eyes in anguish before swivelling on her heel and turning her back to me.

              “Take him then,” she tells my brothers angrily.  “Take him out of my sight!”

              “Wait, Hortense… !” I roar.

              “I never want to see him again!  Ever!”

              “Hortense!”

              “You are my enemy,” intones Hortense bitterly.  “And as such I banish you from my presence.”  She reaches for a bag of charms hanging from her belt and my composure breaks.

              “No!  Don’t do this,” I beg her, twisting in the chains.  “Don’t banish me away from you!  I’ll do anything – just don’t send me away!”

But my howls are in vain, everything turns black and when I feel the ground beneath me again it is the cold hard stone of hell.  I slump forward in a heap. 

The next week is well, living hell.  After dragging me back down my brothers seemed to think I would snap out of my aberrant behaviour.  But it just grew worse and worse.  As soon as they released my chains I flex my magical muscle on trying to locate her, to take a glimpse of her, only to find she’s well and truly blocked me out.   And that’s not the worst.  I realise she’s warded herself against me completely.  I won’t be able to re-enter her presence even if I wasn’t stuck in Jorad’s deepest dungeon and most of my powers blocked.  When I realise they’ll be entirely useless in finding my way back to her I no longer care about them and relapse into a morose and almost catatonic state, not eating or drinking or even speaking.  Various of my brothers drift in and out until in the end even they are alarmed enough to summon my sister Verenice to come and visit.  She breezes in, her red silk gown rustling and her tinkling laugh going right through me.  She’s always been a nightmare.  I turn my face to the wall and groan, unable to even haul my carcass off the bunk. 

My sister sighs,

              “Isn’t it obvious?” she asks turning to the bars.  “He’s in love with her.”

My brothers make a series of incredulous noises.  I twitch irritably.  What the fuck am I doing here with this bunch of morons?  I think of my mistress and what she might be doing at this hour.  My stomach clenches.  Is she upset?  Missing me?  Who’s going to make sure all the windows and doors are fastened at night?  Who’s going to chop the firewood?  I imagine Hortense going into a decline, not eating or drinking without me there to do her bidding or tease her or wind her up.  She needs me godsdamnit!  Why does she have to be so fucking stubborn?

              “Look at him mooning over her!” jeers Merrick.  “He’s pathetic!”

I don’t even bother to argue, just groan and drop my head onto my forearms on the bed.  The room goes quiet.

              “You’re in love with her Kiril,” says my sister again in her smug voice.

              “I know,” I grouch.  “For fuck’s sake, I’m not stupid.”  I turn my head so I can look at them all gaping.  “Just leave me alone.”

              “He’ll be alright,” I hear one of them insist.  “Just give him some space.  He’ll get over it the daft bastard.”

I rest my forehead on the mattress ignoring them.  I know the truth.  I’m the one who’s going into a fucking decline not Hortense.  For all I know she could be eating cake with her sisters or playing with her nieces and nephew cursing my perfidy.  She may not give a shit about the disappearance about her lying slave.  I squeeze my eyes shut and wallow in my misery.  My chest hurts.  I hurt.  All I want is to lie at her feet and have the chance to grovel abjectly and beg for forgiveness.  When did this happen to me?  And why don’t I care?  My whole universe now revolves around one woman and she’s cast me into the pit of despair by banishing me.  I wish I was dead.  Maybe then she’d feel sorry she’d done this to me.  Yeah, pathetic.

In the meantime my own personal hell continues.  My brothers call in on me one by one or in pairs.  I barely raise my eyes to look at them.  Their words are like blades into my tender flesh when they tell me to get a fucking grip or even worse suggest I ‘get back on the horse’.  One of them brings an ex-favourite of mine, a woodland nymph with excellent cock-sucking skills.  I can barely bring myself to acknowledge her presence.

Insensitive bastard.

“I don’t want anyone else,” I murmur tiredly.  None of them understand.  Not one of them is capable of this depth of feeling, these depths of despair.  And I was always considered the shallow one I think with disbelief.  I was the one with the reputation as the faithless lover, the inconstant one.  I’m exhausted.  All my energy is focussed on trying to breach the barrier Hortense has flung up about herself blocking me out.  But for once my mistress’s patchy powers have done their job and it’s impenetrable to me.  My burning eyelids droop down over my bloodshot eyes.

“He looks like shit,” comments Merrick.  They’re actually talking about me in my presence now as if I’m not there.  “Maybe,” he hesitates.  “Maybe he isn’t going to snap out of it…”

There’s an uneasy silence from Jorad who scratches his beard noisily.

              “Let’s give him a month.”

I don’t even care.  Nothing matters anymore. 

They give me two weeks then they gang up on me, dragging me out of the bed and throwing cold water over me.  I roar and struggle but I’m weak as a kitten not having eaten or even slept unbrokenly for days. 

              “Enough!” shouts Jorad.  “You’ve wallowed in self-pity long enough!  This is a fucking embarrassment!”

I realise with weary astonishment that they are staging some kind of fucking intervention.  Unbelievable! 

              “Why can’t you just leave me alone to die in peace?” I groan.

              “She’s not even that pretty,” objects my brother Andarl in what he thinks passes for a hushed undertone.  “Why’s he causing such a commotion over this one?”  I lunge for him with an unexpected burst of strength.

              “When did you fucking see my Hortense?” I snarl at him viciously as I grab him round the throat making his eyes bulge.

              “Easy!” cautions Jorad trying to pry my fingers loose.  “He saw her not five minutes ago,” he adds hurriedly when our brother turns purple.  “She’s here!”  I drop Andarl immediately and wheel around to stare wildly at my oldest brother.  “She’s here?” I demand.  “You bought her down to the seventh level of hell?”  My words are furious.  How dare he bring my precious Hortense to this place?  A red mist is descending as I think of her being intimidated or afraid.  She never leaves the Keep even for her sisters.  They always have to come to her. 

              “Take it easy brother,” urges Merrick grabbing my upper arm.  “She came to us.  She wanted, nay demanded to see you.  She completed a spell, rather a complex one to track you.”  He sounds grudgingly impressed.  I feel suddenly shaky on my feet. 

              “She wants to see me?” I echo dumbly.  I had not seen that coming.  Hortense is a stickler for keeping her word.  Once she makes a vow, she never goes back on it.  Her word is her bond etc. etc.  When she said she never wanted to see me again I took that as being one hundred percent her intention.  Sure, other women may bandy words like those about whenever they’re in a snit, but not my girl.  I feel like all the wind’s been knocked out of me in a gigantic sucker punch. 

What does she want?  Does she miss me?  Regret sending me away? 

              “Where is she?” I bark.  “Take me to her.”

              “Bloody hells Kiril,” another brother Raglan grouches.  “Hold your horses!”  They lead me back to my own personal apartments and to my astonishment directly into my own sitting room.  And that’s when I see her, my Hortense.  She’s sat on a low sofa with her eyes narrowed meanly, glittering with annoyance.  My god, she’s beautiful, in a long black gown with her hair all twisted up ropes looped around her head, her perilously high shoes studded with amethysts.  She’s like a beacon of light glowing in the dark room.  I try to surge forward but Merrick yanks me back with a frustrated sigh.

              “Try and have some fucking self-restrant!” he hisses.  “She’s mean as hell and still in a mood with you…”

I don’t even care, ducking under his arm I make a break for it and fall to my knees before her.  I’m oblivious to my brothers groans and hisses behind me.

              “Mistress,” I groan and lower my head to her lap, I nuzzle her thighs beneath the velvet skirts and breathe in her scent.  Gods I’ve missed her!  After a minute I realise she hasn’t spoken a single word.  Then I hear her voice ringing out imperiously.

              “What have you done to him?” she asks her voice shaking slightly.  “Have you starved him?”  There’s a nasty edge to her voice, she’s pissed.  She’s pissed they may have abused me.  It’s like a warm balm to my soul.  She cares!  I wrap my arms around her hips and cling to her.  If needs be I’ll tell her they stuck me on a fucking rack and tortured me so long as she takes me back!

              “You did that to him woman,” answers my brother Jorah snottily.  “When you rejected him.”  Growls of assent come from my other brothers.  I don’t dare raise my head just tighten my grip on her.  When she doesn’t speak I peek up from her lap to see a conflicted look on her face.  Her mouth works as she tries to put her feelings into words.

              “Is this true?” she asks at last stiffly.

              “I love you,” I tell her huskily.  “I can’t eat or sleep without you.  I’m a fucking mess.  Please …”  I take an uneven breath, my voice is shaky with emotion.  I can feel the blast of disapproval and shock behind me from my brethren but really could not give a shit.  Yes, I’m abasing myself on my knees in front of a woman.  I’m past caring at this point.  “Gods, I love you Hortense.  Take me back, please,” I ramble on, my eyes are stinging, my throat hoarse.  “I don’t care about anything else anymore.  Just you.” 

Her face goes blank, but her fingers stroke my hair making me groan.

              “I’ll think about it,” she says mildly and I hear one of my brothers give a choking cough behind me.

              “Really?” I whisper up at her adoringly. 

She gives me a brief nod.

              “Hmmm,” she assents scratching the back of my neck lightly.  Her mouth twists.  “It’s very crowded in here,” she frowns with displeasure.

I turn my head around and glare at my brothers.

              “Everyone out!” I roar, glowering at them.  Interfering bastards! 

              “Well I like that!” snorts Jorad.  “After we brought her here and everything.”

              “It’s your fault she kicked me out in the first place!” I snarl as I herd them out into the hallway and slam the door in their incredulous faces.  I hurry back to my Hortense.  Her ears are a little pink with embarrassment I notice belatedly.  Was my angel shy to hear my declaration in front of that rowdy crowd?  I stoop to kiss the pretty shells of her ears but she shoots off the couch, her nose in the air haughtily. 

              “So this is your home?” she asks casting an eye about my chambers.

              “Yes, my sweeting,” I murmur with assent trying to keep my eyes on hers respectfully and not pour them over her delectable little body like a starving man.

              “You may give me a tour of the place,” she asserts, inclining her head regally.  I present my arm and try not to shake when she places her hand on my forearm.  Gods, I wish she’d put it on my cock which has stirred for the first time in three weeks.  Really I just want to bend her over the back of the sofa and pound into her like a rutting bull.  I’m trembling with need, my lust vibrating off me in waves.  I can hardly see straight as I steer her through the rooms.  I wince a bit at my black and red décor, perhaps not the subtlest look for my bachelor pad.  She makes stilted comments and steals glances at me from under her eyelashes. 

              “Quite nice for a hell,” she comments finally.  She stops “Were you ever going to tell me?” 

              “That I’m a prince of hell?” I ask slowly.  “I wanted to but I was scared how you’d take it…” 

She nods thoughtfully at that. 

              “So your original plan was to trick me and then somewhere along the way… you fell in love with me?” 

I wince at her words before realising she’s not being sarcastic simply stating the fact. 

              “Yes,” I agree with alacrity.  I hope I look as sincere as I feel, but no doubt she is aware that we are none of us to be trusted at our word. 

              “Have you been in love before?” she asks with faint suspicion.

              “No,” I admit reluctantly.  I’m almost afraid of where she’s going with this.  Have you claimed to be in love with a woman before?  Yes, many times.  Were you lying every single time?  Yes, through my teeth.

“Why me?”

I whip my head back to her at this.

              “Why am I in love with you?” I ask carefully, as I see the colour rise in her cheeks.  “Because you’re you.  Because I don’t ever want to be apart from you again.  Because I’m happy when I’m around you….” I shrug and my words trail off dismally.  Gods, what a terrible declaration!  Trust my sincerity to affect my oratory ability!  Where’s all my glib smoothness now when I most need it?  I realise Hortense’s fingernails are digging into my arm.

              “When you weren’t there….” She halts awkwardly.  “I missed you.” 

Halle-frickin-luliah! She’s even worse at this than me!  I realise a big dumb grin has spread across my face and Hortense’s face is glowing with embarrassment.  My awkward little mistress has just as good as told me all I need to know.  But still I push it, ‘cos I want to hear her say the words.

              “Do you love me Hortense?” I ask her in a low voice.

She puffs out her cheeks.

              “What if I do?” she asks waspishly.  “What’s the use of my being in love with a prince of hell?  It’s not like you can move back in with me and carry on being my flunky now I know the truth is it?”

              “Flunky?”  I take a deep calming breath.  Gods, she’s a graceless little bitch sometimes!  Instead of the maudlin melancholy I’ve been filled with for the last three weeks I am instead filled at last with righteous indignation.

              “Too fucking right I can’t,” I growl, seizing her by the waist, lifting her and barging into my bedchamber.  I slam the door shut with my booted foot as I fling her towards the big draped red bed and start shucking off my clothes.  Hortense bounces up with an outraged gasp as I fling my tunic over my head and start to unlace my crotch.

              “Don’t you dare move,” I warn her, my voice low as I watch her covetously.  “You’re not going anywhere.”

              “What does that mean?” she answers challengingly.  “That you’re going to keep me prisoner here in the seventh layer of hell?”

I shrug,

              “Sounds good to me,” I answer as I join her on the bed, my weight causing the mattress to rock.  I watch her bosom wobble as my hands start to deftly unlace her from her dress.  She falls back on the pillows watching me, her lids half-closed.

              “It’ll never work,” she murmurs almost to herself.

              “We’ll make it work,” I growl, yanking her gown down her shoulders.  Gods, her body is before me again, all soft pale skin and I’m kissing her neck, her shoulder, the tops of her breasts.  I feel her hand raise to the back of my head and hold me to her.  That gesture of complicity nearly undoes me.  I kiss her pouty lips and drag the rest of her clothes off her.  “You’re so beautiful,” I mutter.  “Perfect.” 

              “No you are,” she replies, her eyes steady on me.  She pulls back on my hair and scoots from under me to press her gorgeous body down on top of me.  Gods, I’m in heaven.

              “I don’t want you to change your mind,” she says gruffly.  “I just want you to like me, and only me.”

I open my mouth to reply but then I feel her hand slide down my chest right down to my cock and I suck in a breath.

              “Believe me, I don’t think that will be a problem,” I tell her hoarsely.

              “So I’ve been practising,” she says calmly.  “That banana trick.”

For a second I don’t follow her but then the cogs turn and click and I remember sister Effie’s lesson in how to suck a man off.  I nearly go cross eyed.

              “Uh Hortense,” I manage to gabble before she ducks down I feel her breath on my dick and I close my eyes on a groan when her tongue swipes across the top of my shaft in an exploratory lick that nearly has me jolting off the mattress.  “Holy hells!” I yell.  No way, I can take this, I’m way too close but before I can push her off  she takes me into her hot little mouth and sucks and there’s an explosion behind my eyeballs and it’s a good thing I’m a shameless bastard or I would have expired of shame on the spot for coming like a horny youth on his first promise.  By the time I’ve stopped bellowing and cursing, my spewing cock jerking and spasming and shooting into her swallowing mouth, I’m a complete wreck. 

              “Fuck!” I roll onto my side to watch her sit up and drag her forearm across her shiny mouth.  “You swallowed,” I groan.

She nods and gives me the shyest smile which shoots right to my chest making it constrict painfully.  I yank her onto me and collapse down onto the mattress panting, my heart hammering so loud she must be able to hear it.  I stroke her hair, unpinning the swathes and twisted loops until it is all down around her shoulders in a dark brown veil of tousled waves.  I run my hands through it. 

              “That was … amazing,” I praise her dazedly which is nothing but the truth.  Yeah, I’ve had it done with more finesse but I’ve never completely lost it like that before.  “Next time I’ll last longer.”  I kiss the top of her head and then go for her mouth but she jerks back. 

              “I just … put my mouth…”

That startles a laugh out of me. 

              “Yeah, I know.”

Not breaking my gaze, she leans forward and kisses my lips which nearly makes my heart leap out of my chest, cos let’s face it, this is the first time she’s ever instigated a kiss.  Ridiculous as she’s just blown me, but for some reason I’m reeling over this particular landmark.  Yeah, I’ve got it bad.  She scoots up and puts her elbows on either side of my head.  My eyes are immediately drawn to her breasts which are pressed against my chest and jostling for attention but for some reason my gaze is drawn back to that heart-shaped face of hers.   I stroke her back, her silky smooth buttocks.  My hands tremble slightly.  I’m completely fucking smitten. 

              “What are we going to do?” she asks softly.

I don’t even miss a beat.

              “Live happily ever after,” I tell her and know this is the right answer when the dimple in her cheek appears before her smile.

              “What about your duties here?”

              “We can split our time between your place and mine.”

She traces her finger across my collar bone, avoiding my eyes.

              “I love you Kiril,” she utters quietly.

I swallow,

              “Thank the gods,” I wheeze.  “My brothers were worried about my sanity not long ago.  It was touch and go.”

She snorts.

              “I’m serious,” I tell her gravely.  “I love you too much.  It makes me feel vulnerable.  Like you could rip my bleeding heart out of my chest and stomp all over it in your eight inch heels.”

Her eyes go wide.

              “I feel the same,” she admits.  “After the whole fairytale princess wedding coverage ten years ago… Everyone saying Effie and I were ugly…”

My grip on her tightens making her wince.  I relax my hold by a couple of degrees but it takes effort.

              “I swore I’d never let anyone get close enough to see how much it hurt,” a fat tear rolls down her cheek and I struggle to sit up.

              “I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt you again,” I tell her, rolling her onto her back.  I mean it too.  “Let’s get married.  I’ll buy you the biggest diamond in ten kingdoms.  I’m rich by the way.  You can have a treasure room here too as well as at the Keep.  We can have a big wedding, a huge wedding.  Bigger than Cendrillon and Charmian’s if you want.”

She laughs at my effort to distract her.

              “No, small is fine.  I’d just want my family there.  And yours,” she adds as an afterthought. 

              “Have you seen my brothers?” I ask quirking an eyebrow at her.

              “Yes, and you’re the worst of all of them,” she replies warmly making me smile.  I can tell she means it as a compliment.  

              “You’d better believe it my princess,” I tell her, kissing down her throat.  “I love you Hortense and I’m gonna spend the rest of my life telling you that.”

She runs her fingers down the side of my face and smiles. 

              “Yes,” she agrees with a sigh pulling me close.  “You will.”