Beggar

Chapter 8: "Thank me."

Sayter made me sit far from the fire while my clothes cracked against the burning wood.

His little plan was working, I was freezing in between these small strips of lace clung to my tits and rear. Sayter barely payed me attention, so I took the books off there shelves and began reading through. Again and again I pulled books in and out of there place, what ran through his mind that he had so many history books and literatures and whatever.

I skidded a bit out of his sight, in between the shelves and found myself in a dark shadow of a section. There were books black back to back, brooding. Oh, with an atmosphere this depressing it must be fun. I zipped through and found one little book in particular.

Soul-Selling.

Why he had this book I didn't know. Maybe he had sold his own soul, for power or money, maybe for me, to find me. No, I might be more trouble than I was worth, but not worth a crime lords soul. My fingers found the crisp pages, and they hummed scraping over my nails. We would get along.

My eyes grazed over symbols, over pictures and words. It was mortifying. But fascinating, anything I could ever dream of dumped at my feet, all I had to do was the ritual.

What is it you think you need? The mirrors can tell you, paint them black and sing to us.

I knew what I wanted, but couldn't put it completely into words. I wanted Sayter under my control, keep him as a pet as he did to me. And to have this absolute bastard of a man be mine, and use when I wanted, then I could slowly, creatively carve him up. And he'd enjoy it, because I'd tell him to. Or maybe I would keep him for a while, and I debated how long it would take for me to get bored of him. Him calling me mistress. Sayter, torturer, crime lord, a menace on his knees for me. I thought of that man that had asked me to use him for pleasure before I plunged a dagger in his heart. My lips curled up, but that wouldn't be my Sayter, my love. He was a too vital part of me.

I couldn't hide the book in my clothes, of course, so I memorized the ritual to summon a single demon to meet my request.

Jurian. Demon not from hell, some other realm I suppose. Where they took human souls to be stretched and tortured, and I wouldn't be afraid of it, nothing good waited for me after I died anyway. I memorized the little ritual, where a short lived sequence of events would play out to destroy us both.

"You just can't obey me, can you?" Sayter was stretching a leaver glove over his hand, smoothing out where it folded over like skin. Aftermath of hours at a work desk.

"I made some friends, dont you care? Maybe, I can understand why you like to read so damn much." I gestured to the bookshelves.

I'd been sleeping against the other side, the soul-selling book neatly tucked away where I found it. "Glad to hear you found a hobby outside of fantasizing about me." That voice dipped low and sexy, and he scooped me up and carried me out of the library to be punished for the last time.

Ф

Sayter sprawled me over the bed naked, as if he wanted every inch of my body exposed. My hands were tied together, not apart, above my head. I felt like I was about to die tonight.
Like he could rip right into my chest with my own knife, like I did to those men.

That would be interesting to say the least.

Sayter was fully clothed in front of me, a flogger in his right hand.
"Count to five for me."