Eclipse Of The Moon Ch 08

Hi all, thanks for stopping by!

So, a couple of things. First, this story is not my idea. The original 7-part series is titled "Eclipse of the Moon" by WildSong. Probably one of the best series I've read on this site. I can't recommend it enough (definitely a little darker though). So, why are we here? Well, the last update was 12/01/18 and I wanted closure,

so after trying to reach out a few times with no response

, I just wrote it. It will definitely go in a different direction while hopefully maintaining the original themes. This brings me to number two; I'm not a writer, and this is the first thing I've ever written. I would love feedback (whatever that looks like) as long as it's well-intentioned. Only one way to improve, right?

-WL

A single cloud hung in the sky. The mid-day sun was hot but there was a slight breeze that cooled everything it touched. By all accounts, it was a beautiful day. That's where everyone was -- outside. Except for Angel, she sat in the window in her room, overlooking the yard. Aaron was somewhere out there as well. After the incident between the two of them, he completely avoided her. She had barely spoken a word to him over the past few days. It was probably for the best. The further he was from her, the safer he would be. The wind wound its way through the branches of a large oak in the yard, its branches swaying gently. Angel unconsciously tugged on the sleeves of her sweater. The collection of bruises that lay just under the surface had changed to brown and yellow, as had many of the others. The deeper wounds had started to scab. How long would that last?

It had been several days since Daemon had told her to eat more. She had done her best to do that despite the lack of appetite and periodic nausea. Opting instead for smaller meals more frequently. Her parents weren't thrilled she still wasn't finishing her meals, but they could look past it when they saw her snacking throughout the day. She had to admit, some part of her did feel better. She had more energy; she was less pale, and she could think clearly. Perhaps that was just the several days without Daemon though. Looking out the window, she wondered how far down it was. If she jumped, could it all be over? The thought was tempting. With her luck, she would probably just cripple herself. Less tempting. The oak tree looked on as if waiting for her decision. A stillness came over the room.

"What are you looking at?" a recognizable voice bemused.

She flinched and followed his voice. He was leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed lazily. The corner of his mouth turned up slightly.

"Just- Just the tree." came the quick reply.

She pressed her back further against the wall. No amount of time away could change the immediate feeling of suffocation he brought on.

"One of the few things around here that haven't changed." he thought aloud as he began to slowly make his way towards where she sat.

His steps were slow but measured. He was the image of a predator in every way, stalking his victim. His eyes held hers for what felt like an eternity until she couldn't take it anymore and looked down at the floor to avoid contact. His feet finally reached her.

She didn't dare look up at his face. Then she truly wouldn't be able to control the shaking that threatened to take over her body. She tried to still herself as much as possible. He would punish her for fidgeting, it was always worse when he had to tell her to stop. Suddenly, icy pressure wrapped around her and pulled her head towards him. Before she could think her head was against his chest and a cold hand began to work its way into her hair. His hand held her loosely, his nails grazing her scalp occasionally, but the threat was there. Don't move.

Glancing toward the oak tree in the yard, he only sighed. Any hint of amusement left his face and he appeared far off. It had been a long time alone. His fingers toyed with her hair, feeling the warmth of her back, her neck, and her head. It was intoxicating. And it was all his. No one could take his whore away from him. She trembled underneath him but so much less than before. She was learning, and controlling herself. All things to make him happy. He smiled.

Angel kept her head down as he released her and stepped away. How long had she been holding her breath? A tear welled in her eye. His steps headed towards her bed, and she heard the bed shift under his weight. She looked up slowly and met his crimson eyes.

"Come here," he started.

The trembling increased but she quickly stood up to walk toward him. Walking to the gallows would have been easier. She wanted to beg him to stop as she stood before him, but she knew better. It would only be worse.

"Closer."

She quickly obeyed.

"Good girl." he cooed.

She had gotten so much better at learning and adapting. She had to. It took all of her will not to fidget with her hands, a tear threatened to run down her cheek. Sitting at the edge of the bed, he leaned back on his haunches.

"Take your clothes off." his voice dripped with lust.

A sadistic grin played across his features. For a moment she froze. Her arms began removing her sweatpants before her brain had caught up with her. Just do what he wants, and then he'll be gone. He will never be gone. She went to remove her shirt.

"Slowly."

She stopped what she was doing and noticed his arousal begin to swell in his trousers. Taking a breath, she slowly made to take off her sweater. Once it was off, she stood in only her underwear and bra. She held her sides -- anything to comfort herself.

He grinned. "Now turn around."

He leered at the tantalizing flesh so close to him. So innocent, the way she tried to cover herself. He would have to work on that too. Whores don't hide. There was a momentary relief when she turned around, anything to avoid those piercing eyes. He leaned forward, enjoying the view.

"And bend over, like a good little slut, and take those panties off for me." He teased.

He licked his canines as she struggled with the internal turmoil to obey. Her thoughts were spiraling. She slowly did what he asked and bent down at the waist. She could feel his breath was closer now. Reaching back with tentative fingers, she gently lowered her underwear to her knees and then stepped out of them. Her face burned with humiliation. At least you don't have to look at him. A hand trailed its way up the back of her thigh and she jumped. Then another. They kneaded the bruised flesh underneath. Angel covered her mouth to avoid a whimper escaping.

Daemon loved this ass. He rubbed it, enjoying the warmth on his fingers. He rocked her hips back and forth slightly as he massaged her and a soft sigh betrayed her. He chuckled at that.

"I'm glad you like this," he purred cruelly, "I have plans for this ass tonight. Spread your legs."

She flinched then and her breath caught in her throat. Hot moisture fell on her cheeks as silent tears streaked them. When she didn't move her legs fast enough, she felt his foot kick them apart. She almost fell forward if not for his deathly grip on her ass. He spread her cheeks roughly and beheld her pink rosebud. It squeezed tightly against the cold air. Pretty soon it would squeeze tightly around his cock he thought. The thought was enough to harden him. He placed his thumb in the center and teased it.

She choked back a cry as he began touching her. Why would he even want that? It would hurt. Nothing was supposed to go in there. Oh god, it would hurt. She began hyperventilating but she didn't dare move or speak.

"I think my little slut deserves a little reward." He teased mockingly.

Instant dread fell over her. He lifted her up and turned her around.

"Go and find some lotion. Be quick about it. And take off that bra." His voice alarmed her.

It set her hair on end. Lotion? What did he want with lotion? She almost tripped over herself sprinting to the bathroom in an attempt to distance herself. She could hear his depraved laugh from the other room. He was still in a good mood. That's all that mattered.

She stood in the bathroom with both hands on the counter. She counted her breathing until it slowed her heart rate down. Why was she in the bathroom again? Lotion. She needed to find lotion. She searched through the drawers and found a jar of face cream. Is this what he wanted? She grabbed it and made for the door before stopping herself. Taking a step back, she looked at herself in the mirror. She looked so broken. She had more color about her since she had started eating but she was still so frail. It was almost too much to stop the tears from coming. Gripping the counter, she steeled her breathing again until it was as even as it would ever be. She slowed took off her bra in the mirror and felt defeated all over again.

In a way it would be a reward for her he smirked. She had been so good today. So quick to please him. She returned to him dutifully with a small jar in hand. Likely without a clue. She held it out to him with trembling hands -- unsure of her actions.

"Oh no, this is for you." A feral smile played over his face.

Confusion gripped her features. He would enjoy this he thought.

"You're going to lube up your pretty little asshole for me."

Horror befell her face and with wide eyes, she took a step back. The shaking started almost instantly. She couldn't do this; this was too much.

"Now, now. This is a treat for you," the venom dripped from his voice as he stalked toward her. His hands wrapped around her arms tightly. Clawed fingernails dug into her skin, but not breaking it. Yet. This was a warning.

"Pl- Please. I- I can't," She stammered.

"Ah ah," he tsked, "and you were doing so well too."

His fingernails broke through her skin, hands squeezing harshly.

"Either you do it right now, or I fuck your ass raw until I split you open," his voice lost its playful edge, "and I think you know which I would prefer."

She just choked back a sob. What was she even supposed to do? She had never done anything like this before. She hadn't done a lot of things before Daemon. Her tear-soaked baby blues looked up at him pleadingly. So innocent. He withdrew her arms and licked a drop of blood from his fingers. The liquid tasted like life, but it wasn't enough to satisfy him. Not now when he had his whore in front of him.

She shifted on her feet. Shame fell upon her as she lowered her head and closed her eyes tightly. His head lowered to nip at her ear. He was unbearably close to her.

"I don't... I can-... Can y- can you," she couldn't think straight much less get the words out, "Show... me?" She was mortified. "P- please?"

He smirked against her ear then. And then it was gone. He guided her towards the bed.

"Put some on my cock." He growled.

She could do that. She kneeled in front of him. Opening the container, she took some out with one hand and then looked at his pants. She would need to remove them. With trembling eyes, she looked up at him for approval. He stood motionless. She took that as a good sign and lowered his pants with her other hand. His erection stood at attention proudly. Tentatively, she reached out to him. She wrapped her hand around his length the best she could and began spreading the cream. Was there a technique to this? She stole a glance up at him, searching for approval. His eyes were closed. That was probably a good sign. She continued rubbing him.

Her inexperienced hands gripped his cock in ways she didn't even know. He placed a hand over her wrist to stop her. If she kept going, he might be tempted to just use her mouth instead. Her eyes looked terrified as they looked up at him. So worried she had done something wrong. Good. He liked her like this. He motioned for her to get on the bed and positioned her on all fours. He moved behind her and pressed her neck into the sheets so her back was bent and her ass was up. He slowly massaged her ass again. His knees forced themselves in between her legs, keeping them open.

"Now take some, and put it up your ass for me," he taunted sadistically. He was having fun now. She had never been more thankful to have her face buried in her bed. Her eyes were shut tightly. She must have begun crying again because she felt the moisture from her cheeks on her sheets. Her hand cautiously made its way back to the small jar. Scooping some onto her hand, she reached back slowly. Daemon had stopped massaging her to spread her cheeks wide open. She paused right before reaching her destination. How could she do this? She couldn't do it. This was too much. She shook with shame.

"Do it, or I'll have your precious brother do it." He snarled. "He would probably like it too."

His patience was wearing thin. With that, she immediately moved her hand to her pink hole. He smirked. So eager to please. She would do anything for her family, and that was fine by him. Her hand moved gently all over the outside of her asshole. After a moment, she gradually inserted a finger. Her mind was a fog. Just focus. She could hardly move the finger, the cream helped but barely. It was too tight. She continued to work her finger in as her mind wrestled with the shame of the act she was performing.

"Now you're acting like a real whore. Finger fucking your asshole for an audience," he mocked, "do you like it Lior? Do you like fingering your asshole for me?"

She flinched at his crudeness. It was all too much.

"No." Was also she could whisper.

"No? You shouldn't lie to me Lior." His tone dropped an octave. His hand gripped her sex tightly, his nails digging into her mound. Her recoil caused her to raise it up higher towards him. His grip didn't let up as he began to move his palm back and forth. The pressure on her little nub made her head spin. She unconsciously started to rock her hips in time with his hand before she realized and stopped.

"Now. Tell me again. Do you like finger fucking yourself for me?"

She bit back a sob.

"Y- yes."

"Yes, what."

"I like to... touch myself... for you." She tripped over the words. She couldn't even say it. How sweet.

"Do you like to do it for anyone else?" He goaded.

"No." She felt breathless. "Just you."

"That's right. This belongs to me." He said as he pressed against her sphincter. "Relax for me."

Suddenly his hands were both tightly wrapped around her hips, and she felt the pressure against her sphincter increase. She tried to relax as best she could. As soon as she did the air escaped her lungs as he drove himself into her. The pain didn't even register for a moment. Once the shock was over, a searing pain gripped her. She screamed into the mattress. It wasn't as bad as the first time he had raped her, but it hurt, nonetheless. He pounded into her mercilessly. Never letting up.

For him, it felt like heaven. Her hole was so tight it nearly sucked him up. He wasn't even sure he could fuck her raw. He had wanted to take his time and enjoy it, but it felt too good. He pumped in and out of her ruthlessly and all she could do was take it. He seized her hair in one of his hands and lifted her head up. He could hear her now -- grunting with each thrust.

"Tell me who you belong to."

"You," she gasped.

He reached underneath her with his other hand and began stroking her nub. The heat between her legs stirred and the familiar feeling in her belly tightened. The feeling was too much. Soft sighs began escaping her mouth with every thrust, her asshole relaxing and contracting with the motion of his cock slamming into her. Stop it. Her body tried to get away but with her legs held wide and a firm grip on her hair, there was nowhere to go. She couldn't think straight. The pain combined with the pleasure of his hand on her sex was too much. The pressure continued to mount in her belly, spreading throughout her body. A voice in her mind told her this wasn't right; she shouldn't be enjoying this. But her body just wanted to feel good. To not hurt. She craved some semblance of happiness. She deserved that, right?

The heat became unbearable as he continued to stroke her. As her resolve crumbled, she began moaning in earnest. Her hips rocked in time with his thrusting. She wanted relief. The heat between her legs was growing. The room disappeared around them. All she wanted was more. More pressure. Faster. When he felt her return his thrusts he began pumping into her faster.

"Look who came out to play," he cooed as he punctuated each word with a thrust.

His words barely registered as her body tightened and contracted as she came. As she reached her climax the energy left her body, and she slumped onto the bed. Her perfect body moved underneath him, and her orgasm was enough to send him over the edge as well. She felt his hand tighten again on her hip and he thrust into her. Hard. He held himself there and let out a guttural moan. He thrust into her a few more times to milk his cock before finally pulling out of her. He let go of her hair, and her head dropped. The heat radiated from her, and a thin layer of sweat shone across her back.

Her knees came up to her chest defensively when the shame finally set in. How could she have enjoyed that? What was wrong with her? His hand fell onto her back. She tensed up. It moved in lazy circles.

"What a good girl," came a low satisfied purr. "See how nice it can be when you behave."

He had hurt her. But it could have been worse. He had found ways to show her it could always be worse. And she just wanted to stop hurting. To just give in. Just give up.

The mattress shifted underneath her as he got up. She didn't dare look at him. Or move. She could hear his footsteps as they made their way over to the window. The wood ledge creaked underneath his weight. There was a long silence. When she finally built up the courage to look up, he was gone. She was alone again. Relief washed over her until she tried to stand up. Instantly pain shot through her. She managed to catch the edge of her bed before falling over. The pain was an instant reminder of his assault. After catching her breath, she staggered to the bathroom. She needed to soak. And to cry. Alone.

***

Daemon sat on a small stool in the dark and dusty attic, waiting for an answer to his call. After seeing her starving herself and looking out that window the way she did... he was worried. If she ended up killing herself he couldn't be sure they'd ever see each other again. Sure, she'd end up in Hell, but he didn't have a way to get there without her. He much preferred their current situation but who knew how long it would last. No, he had to do something different.

The attic had been inaccessible to anyone for decades and was only illuminated by a tiny window. In a moment, a swirl of black and red fog erupted from the floorboards and grew into the shape of a man. The smoke twirled about his figure until it dissipated. What was left was a gray-skinned man in only a pair of loose-fitting pants. The muscles in his chest were well-defined, his eyes were black pools and his curly black hair hung loosely on his head.

"You called, friend?" The demon began.

"I think I found her," Daemon answered.

"Anita?"

"Fuck no. Someone else, she's perfect." Daemon stood as he talked.

"That's great! What do you need me for then?"

"I need you to settle things on the other side."

"Sounds good. Timeline?"

Daemon smiled. This was why he always got along with Pearlie back when they were both alive. The two of them seemed to always have the same ideas.

"Soon."

Pearlie disappeared in the same smoke that had conjured him with a mock salute and a crooked smile. In a moment, Daemon was alone again. He sat back down and just smiled to himself. She would be his forever, one way or another.

Thanks for reading :)