Page 15 of La Petite Morte


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"And if he doesn't?"

"Then you let that angel fly."

I tipped my head to his and squeezed his arms. "I love you," I whispered to him.

"I know you do."

Last night had been different with Lazarus. He was possessive, he took the lead. Usually, I took what I needed from him, and he'd allow it but last night I could the fear in him. He was afraid of being released. Lat in the night, he stretched me out beneath him. His muscles moved like a predator over my small frame. He was the last one I'd taken. The one I'd cared for the most.

A childhood friend who had felt each ache and pain this place put on your soul. I knew I couldn't be so selfish to make him love me the way I loved him. And even though I continued to warn him away, I knew his debt to me was sweeter than any other. Because I had stolen him from the witch. And he was more than willing to be mine.

Lazarus had loved another before me. But she ran away with a stranger, leaving him grieving and at the witch’s mercy. I found his corpse lying on the cold ground and both mine and my Ringmaster's selfishness couldn't leave him be. I found his soul clawing through the darkness, and I pulled him and his immortality out of the demon's clutches and brought him back, binding him to me.

I knew what he meant to my father, he was a friend, a lover, a protector, and in a way, I felt a tinge of envy where they were concerned. But Lazarus was mine, and the Ringmaster seemed to respect that. He knew what I was capable of if someone were to touch what belonged to me, and he didn’t want to take that chance. Not with his daughter.

The thing with Jin and Lazarus, my immortals, was that the binding was only their human side. Their immortal side was free to leave if they pleased. The thought of it shattered me inside. If they only knew I'd die without them. Each of them carried a piece of me inside of them and being away from them for too long would weaken me. I could never imagine taking that chance.

Jin broke me out of my reverie and took my hand, leading me to the stage.

"Up." He whispered, bringing me up onto the new platform he'd built.

"What are you up to?"

There was no show tonight, usually the beginning of the week was quiet. We worked diligently, practicing, and preparing for Wednesday night's first showings of an audience. The weekend was the most exciting. The moans and perversions of humanity filled the grounds and Cirque Diabolique shown brighter in the night sky. Luring in those that liked to dance with the devil.

By Monday morning we'd be shielded. No trace of any of its deviance. There would be murmurs of what had gone on in the circus that night, and whispers would reach new towns where the curious would submit, and the dominants came to play.

Cirque Diabolique was their own haven of sorts. Each crowd member was used to feed the evil that lurked in the shadows. If they only knew how they satisfied a demon's need upon their arrival.

Would they return?

Would they willingly give themselves over to it?

Sex was a vicious pleasure. An addiction unlike any other. I was sure the succubus would always win out.

I only used my power when the crowd was present. Rodrigo was my pet; I could do with him as I pleased, and my power knew no bounds. It enjoyed taking away his life and then reviving him while I issued pleasure. The crowd would stir in uncomfortable silence, not knowing what was real or illusion, but Rodrigo and I knew. And as I breathed life back into him, he'd cum for me, floating in a subspace only I created for him. I wondered why he enjoyed it so much, but he once told me it was freeing for him.

As much as he submitted to all my desires, my Rodrigo was strong and unafraid to fight the darkness for me if he had to.

I had tried that trick on others before him, but I had to be very careful, for not everyone came back the way they were. Behind them trailed darkness, trying to slither out on the backs of their souls. I made that mistake once, leaving the evil inside, and I swore I would never do that again. The souls I played with were my own.

For a more brutal, darker show, I used Dean. Those shows had become far and few between. Dean was vicious, fighting me with every ounce of his evilness. I was able to control him, up until now. I was afraid if his control wavered, he'd hurt someone.

Jin always ignited my power, and when he pulled me into his trance it released over the audience and the demon fed off it hungrily.

He'd once told me he'd feared the succubus. When it used him, he felt raped by it. So I forced myself never to use my power on him. And if that bitch came too close to him, my power would protect him always. He trusted me, and as he slid the rope around my neck, I trusted him.

I could feel the demon approaching, watching us as if she were an audience member. She roamed around the empty darkness, slithering around like a snake, and the power in my fingertips emerged. She liked to play with me, especially around Jin. He was the only one who could subdue me, and she loved knowing that.

Jin continued to stroke my body, covering it in rope. He was the epitome of what was called a Rigger, and he made sure to adore his Bunny. I easily became his pet, urging him to take control of me. He kissed my flesh, raising my arms up as he twined the roped around my forearms and sliding it around my wrists. The movement began to lull me, and in that serenity, he created, my body became aroused. He tugged tightly on the rope, securing my wrists and I whimpered knowing I was completely bound by him now.

What an opposition, isn't it?

The necromancer wanting to be bound. Needing it.

He continued to work around my body. He knew exactly what to do to me. He made me feel safe, yet bound, sexy and unashamed. He inflicted just the right amount of pain and quickly turned it into pleasure. And as I was suspended in the air, he played with me.

There was only one thing I feared during these play times, yet I didn't want him to know. In my heightened state of arousal, I'd sometimes have a moment where I'd lose absolute control.

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