Feature Writer: FayeBby

Feature Title: YEP, MARRIED OFF TO THE DEMON LORD

Published: 03.07.2022

Story Codes: Demonic

Synopsis: It’s exactly what it sounds like

Yep, Married Off to the Demon Lord

If you went back in time and asked Avery from last week how she would be spending today, she would have probably listed things like sketching wildflowers, tending the garden, or if she was feeling really feisty– curling up with a glass of wine and a silly, smutty romance novel.

If you had told me I’d be here, voluntarily standing in line to be appraised by a demon lord along with a dozen other human women… well, I would have laughed in your face. I might have even taken you to the hospital. Maybe I would have said, “Oh, you’ve been reading those kinds of smutty romance novels, have you? You nasty little deviant.” But I surely wouldn’t have believed you.

Life is one cheeky bitch sometimes.

So, why am I here? Well, life isn’t swell in the human realm. Sketching wildflowers doesn’t exactly put food on the table. My day to day life has become a bit mundane and I’m slightly curious about what it might feel like to be double penetrated by a demon’s cock and tail.

Sad part is I’m only slightly kidding.

Have you ever had that friend who never seems to think before they do or say anything? They’ve got no filter, seemingly no sense of self-preservation, and every time they open their mouth you’re just sitting there in awe, wondering how the fuck they survived this long? I’ve never had a friend like that, and I’ve been told that means it’s me.

I fidget with the white, incredibly sheer panels of fabric that are artfully draped around my body. They don’t leave much to the imagination, in fact I’d argue that they leave just about nothing, but they’re pretty all the same. The illusion of being clothed at least eases a bit of the nervous wrenching in my gut.

You signed up for this Avery, there’s certainly no bitching out now. Besides, there’s no guarantee that he’ll even choose you. These other girls are beyond hot, and you’re just a short, sassy redhead with a fat ass. Surely, surely that’s not what demons are into, right?

… Right?

As I’m fidgeting, a rumbling voice brings me out of my spiraling, confused, and horny inner turmoil.

“Single file, ladies.” The demon guard is huge, almost like he’s a demon or something. Wild. The entire race is incredibly tall, most of the men standing at around seven feet… not counting the horns, of course. Their skin is always varying shades of gray, their hair usually either the deepest black or the purest white. This guy is sporting white, which is a stark contrast to his black tunic and pants. “You will enter the throne room one at a time. You will not go in until you are instructed. If Lord Cassiel tells you to stay, start a line besides the throne and wait while the other girls are appraised. Once he has his favorites picked out, he will then choose from amongst them who he is to wed. The wedding happens immediately after. Then, well–” He laughs in a way that’s either condescending or just dirty, amused banter. “– I hope you know what happens after that. Otherwise, you’re in for quite a shocking night.”

I’d bet whoever he picks is in for a shocking night regardless.

I slowly let out a deep, shaky breath as I wring my hands. I honestly can’t decide if I’m grateful or horrified by the fact that I’m going in last. As the line to the large double doors of the throne room gets shorter and shorter, and more and more girls are sent back with tears of rejection in their eyes, I start to wonder if he’ll end up choosing any of us. When it’s finally my turn, and the lord still hasn’t kept a single one of the other girls, I give up hope on being chosen and quickly adopt an optimistic, get-it-over-with outlook.

The throne room is cast in various shades of black, gray, crimson, and gold. The floor is a smoky marble, and I keep my gaze glued to the golden specks of its swirling patterns, catching the sight of red drapes and black velvet furniture in my peripheral. The light patter of my bare feet against the cool, polished floor is the only sound in the room other than the barely audible shifting of my transparent drapery. That is, until the deepest voice I’ve ever heard fills every empty space around me.

“Stop.” Call me little miss obedient housewife, cause I do just that. “Turn.” When I start to turn too quickly for his liking, he interjects, “Slowly.” Call me a masochist and you wouldn’t be off base –but maybe chill with the name calling, buddy– because I halt my little spin to one so slow that if I were in a race with a slug, it would be a photo finish.

When I’m finally facing in his direction again, I rummage up enough courage to steal a glance at the man on the throne above me.

The demon lord looks like the big and scary flavor of sex on a stick. He wears nothing save for a pair of black, skin tight pants. No shirt, no shoes, no problem. His long, impossibly black hair cascades like liquid night over his impressive pectorals and broad shoulders, ending right around where all of his abs begin. If you can even call those abs without it being an insult. This dude has muscles in places that I didn’t even know they could exist. His facial features are just as rugged and bold as the rest of his race, his eyes as black as onyx but practically on fire as they bore into mine.

And those horns? I didn’t even know I was into horns. Learning a lot more about myself today than I cared to know, if I’m being honest with you.

When my gaze drops to the floor again he asks, “Does looking at me offend you?”

My cheeks turn just about every shade of red imaginable before I clear my throat and say, “No.”

There’s a brief pause. “Do I frighten you?”

I can’t help but roll my eyes as I snort. “No, of course not. You seem positively cuddly.”

A laugh that resembles the clap of a canon echoes through the room with that.

“Tell the others to return home.” I look up in shock, and he gives me a downright sinful wink. “I’ve found my bride.”

…

Having only ever been to human weddings, save for one nice elf couple’s nuptials a few years back, I had no idea what to expect from a demon wedding. I was pleasantly surprised by the efficiency of it. No long winded vows or copious patterns of sitting and rising. The priest, a tall and lovely demon woman dressed in layers of white transparent fabric similar to my get up, kept the ceremony short and to the point. We cut open our hands, smacked ’em together, the priest tied a red ribbon around them and said a quick prayer, and bingo bango bongo– I’m a demon lord’s bride.

There was no grand feast or celebration afterwards, which I was grateful for. I don’t know the first thing about schmoozing with a room full of strange demons. Instead, after the ribbon had been removed from our hands my new husband leaned down, really far down, and told me at eye level that we’d be having dinner in his living quarters. Our living quarters, now.

That’s gonna take some getting used to.

The hallways of Lord Cassiel’s home, which feels a lot more like a castle from the inside, are decorated much the same as his throne room. The only sound is that of our bare steps against the floors, the occasional “there’s the library” or “the kitchens are that way” from my new husband, and the sound of the hummingbird that is currently doing jumping jacks where my heart should be. Eventually we reach a large pair of black double doors, and the demon halts me where I am before striding forward, opening them both wide before sketching an incredibly over dramatic bow.

“Your new rooms, m’lady.”

I would have laughed if my jaw were still connected to the rest of my skull.

The aesthetic of the living quarters is the same as the rest of the house, save for the marble floorings, which have been replaced by a nearly black wood. Closest to the entrance is a small seating area before a marble fireplace, made up of a red velvet couch and a pair of matching chairs, that all look ridiculously big, cozy, and decked out in pillows and blankets. All of which are sitting on a stupidly large fur rug. To the left of the seating area is a modest dining table, looking to be built for comfort and intimacy then for grandior, which is already piled up with plates of food and a bottle of wine. At the back of the room is the bed, which is hard to get a good look at through all the red drapery surrounding it, but I can still clearly make out the large piles of pillows.

“I didn’t expect it to be so cozy.”

“Did you expect for me to sleep on a bed of nails at night?”

I snort a little. “Kind of, yeah.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” I can practically hear the eye roll in his tone.

“No, I like it.” I look over and find him leaning his back against the now closed doors with his hands casually resting in his pockets. To say that the look on his face is amused would be an understatement. “It’s just… surprising, is all.”

We both stare at each for a few moments before he pushes himself off the wall and starts walking towards the table. “Right, well– if I royally fuck up this dinner, then there’s a guest room prepared for you in case you need it.” I follow behind him, my mind going nearly blank as he pulls out a chair for me to sit in. “You’re welcome to stay there for as long as you like if it makes you more comfortable.” As I sit, he takes the seat next to mine at the small circular table, turning his chair so that his body is fully facing mine before he pours us both a glass of wine. I must have not found my jaw yet, or the look on my face must be otherwise hilarious, because he almost looks concerned as he asks me, “Are you… alright?”

I clear my throat and give my head a good shake, throwing back my wine like a shot before placing the glass back down, which he refills for me with a bemused expression.

“Sorry, I–” He raises an eyebrow at me, and I let out a nervous laugh. “I’m just a little confused, I guess.”

“About what?” He spears a piece of meat on his fork and pops it in his mouth, leaning back in his chair and watching me intently as he chews.

“Well, we’re married now.” I pause for confirmation, which seems to tickle him.

“Correct.” He says around another bite of meat.

“Which means I’m your… wife.”

He snorts into his wine glass at that before taking a sip. “Also correct.”

“So logic would dictate that you’d want to get me super pregnant as soon as possible, which might be a bit difficult if we slept in separate rooms.”

Lord Cassiel leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees with his brows drawn together, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he slowly says, “Uh-huh.” He takes only a second to think about what I said before he asks, “Do you have some sort of breeding kink that I should know about?”

I almost choke on my wine, my face going beet red. Before I can say anything, the demon in front of me starts talking again.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. Well, Avery… It was Avery right?” I nod, and he lets out a dramatic sigh of relief. “Thank the gods, that would have been fucking awkward, wouldn’t it?” I take a bite of asparagus as I nod, because I honestly don’t know what else to do with myself. “I’m not in any rush to get anyone pregnant. I mostly did this to get my advisor and the rest of my council off of my back. While you are quite lovely, don’t get me wrong, all of that is up to you.”

I blink a few times. “All of that?”

He snorts. “Sleeping in my room. Fucking me. Having my kids. All of that, dear Avery…” He spears another bite of food before pointing at me with it and sticking it in his mouth. “… is up to you.”

“So if I told you no, you genuinely wouldn’t take me?”

He pushes around some food on his plate with his fork before placing it down. “I’ve had to take a great number of things by force, Avery, but a woman has never been one of them.” The look on my face must be just as disbelieving as it feels like it is, because he lets out a sigh. “I picked you today because you were the only one of those girls that didn’t look like she was about to piss herself. The others either looked at me in horror or didn’t say a word to me. You had the audacity to spit my attitude right back at me, and so I figured we’d make a good team. Partners, I believe, is the way I’d put it. The most permanent kind, arguably, and I’d hardly like to start off this life long little thing we have going on such a sour note.” He shrugs before returning to his food. “I’m patient. I’m not a virgin who is chomping at the bit to get laid. It’s up to you.”

“It’s up to me?” I repeat the words slowly, trying to get used to the feel of them, and Cassiel nods his head in a way that screams, “I’m not saying it again, bitch.”

I let out a shaky breath. “Well, alright then.” I raise my glass towards him. “Partners.”

He clinks my glass with his, a smile on his face. “Partners.”

…

We end up getting through all the essential getting-to-know-you chit chat over dinner. I’m in my mid-twenties; he’s in his early thirties. My parents are dead; his parents are jerks. I like to read; he likes to read. I like to draw flowers; he thinks that’s the funniest fucking thing in the world for some reason. I tell him that my friends call me Ava; he tells me that if I call him Lord one more time then he’s going to be the one sleeping in the guestroom to get away from me. All in all, a pleasant little dinner, but I’m still not totally sure what to make of the guy. The whole situation feels incredibly too-good-to-be-true, like someones going to jump out from behind the drapes and scream, “Gotcha, bitch!”

Now we’re lounging in front of the crackling fireplace and sipping on our wine in a mix between comfortable and uncomfortable silence, but Cassiel’s looking at me like I’m a puzzle with at least a few missing pieces. Eventually he props himself up on one elbow as he lays out on his side, clearing his throat and taking a sip of wine.

“So, I have to ask…” When I nod silently for him to continue, the corner of his mouth quirks up, “… what inspired you to sign up to become a demon lord’s wife?”

“Hmm…” I chew my lip a bit before continuing, “If I said ‘because I was bored,’ would you buy that?”

He snorts as stares into his wine, grinning a bit before he speaks. “From the little that I do know about you, I wouldn’t find that shocking.”

“Well, that’s mostly true.”

He quirks up an eyebrow at me. “Mostly?”

“Yeah, mostly.” He gives me a look like he can’t decide if I’m being incredibly cute or incredibly infuriating, and he seems to eventually settle on both before motioning with his hand for me to continue. “I don’t have any family, all my friends are married and starting families, I don’t have any real skills for caring for myself and my village had a whopping total of zero men that I was interested in marrying. I heard about this little, uhm… wife hunt, thing– and I said to myself, ‘Why not, Ava? Could be fun.'”

Cassiel is clearly fighting against the twitching at the corners of his mouth as he clarifies, “Why not?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“You decided to sell yourself off to a demon lord, because why not?”

“Bingo bango bongo.” I point at him like he just figured out something genius before taking a sip of wine, hiding my smile behind the glass.

“You are absolutely fucking ridiculous.” He says with an infectious laugh, which I return with my own snort, nearly choking on my wine.

“Ridiculous, but in like a cute way, right?”

“Sure, ‘in like a cute way.'” He leans his head against his fist as he smiles lazily at me.

“Well, that wasn’t very convincing.”

“I’ve only been married for a few hours, give me some time to gather a sufficient number of sweet nothings under my belt.”

I roll my eyes at him before blurting out a question that had popped into my brain. “Why a human woman?”

“Pardon?” He asks, his eyebrows knitting together in clear confusion.

“In the ad I saw, you stated specifically that you wanted a human woman for a bride. Why not an elven woman, or better yet, why not a demon woman?”

Cassiel shrugs his shoulders and nonchalantly states, “I think human women are cute.”

It’s finally my turn to give him a bemused expression. “I wouldn’t peg you as a man who’s fond of cute things.”

“Well, I’d say that’s rather judgemental of you.”

We both laugh in unison at that, and I reach out my leg to nudge his dark chest with my toe. “Fair enough.”

Cassiel stares down at my foot against his chest like it’s an unidentified flying object before his gaze drags up my body and back to my face, raising one eyebrow at me as he grazes my shin with his knuckles, working in small circles up my calf. The light from the fire casts his dark grey skin with a warm glow, but his eyes seem to light up on their own accord as he stares me down. I can feel a flush crawling up my neck and creeping over my cheeks, and as I press my lips together Cassiel lays his hand flat against my leg, his calluses somehow feeling only mildly rough as they drag against my skin torturously slow, up and down my calf and then back up again. When I let out a deep and shaky breath, he tilts his head to the side. “How are you feeling?”

I swallow and then clear my throat before attempting to form words. “Like butter?” I don’t know why I say it as a question, but my brain isn’t quite working like it should.

“Like butter?” He parrots me in that amused way of his, giving me a wicked grin when I nod my head. Cassiels gaze drops to between my legs as his hand runs up my thigh with a feather light touch, and when my breath hitches he pauses. “I’m not going to fuck you tonight.” I pout in response, and he barks out a laugh like I’m a gods damned professional comedian. “But…” he whispers as his hand continues its ascent up my thigh, slowly leaning his body forward so as to not so subtly crawl between my legs, “… I wouldn’t mind making you feel even more like– what was it, butter?” When I only nod in response, his hand travels over my hip, past my stomach, stopping at the center of my chest and gently pushing me onto my back.

I feel both of his hands circling my hips as he gets comfortable between my legs, pushing the panels of sheer white fabric up my waist and exposing me to him. He lets out a low growl as he stares at my sex, his lips falling slightly open before he kneels down, stopping just before his lips could make contact with my clit. When I whimper at him, his hands forming an iron grip on my hips to keep me from squirming, I feel his breath fall over my entrance as he lets out a low chuckle. I prop myself up slightly on my elbows to look down at him, and find his gaze burning into mine just as his tongue slips past his lips, just barely grazing my clit in long and deliberately slow circles.

“Oh, fuck.” I moan a low curse, which he returns with an answering growl before his tongue lays itself flat against me, dragging up my opening and over my clit before working its way back down again.

Dear gods, where did all of that tongue come from?

Just as I’m wondering over the logistics of his tongue’s ridiculous length, I feel it ever so gently probe my opening before slipping inside. I let out a sound that’s equivalent to one an injured animal might make as the slippery muscle worms it’s way inside of me, curling upwards with a come hither motion as one of his hands travels from my hip and to my clit, running quick circles over it with enough ferocity to show that he is tired of teasing me.

I’m pretty sure that I’m screaming his name, but I’m not sure because I don’t even remember my own name right now as I roll my hips against his face. I know that he’s groaning in response to me because I can feel it reverberating through my core, driving me closer and closer to the edge as his tongue and his fingers pick up speed.

“Oh my gods, oh my gods Cass. Holy fuck. Dear fucking gods fuck.” My voice raises multiple octaves on the last word of my incoherent rambling before my spine snaps straight, my mouth falling open in a silent ‘oh’ as I cum on my husbands tongue, my thighs practically strangling his head as I grab onto his horns to hold him in place, earning another moan from him in response. He fucks me through my orgasm until my spine unlocks itself and I slouch back against the floor, my breath coming in rapid gasps as Cassiel rises from my center. There’s that wicked, teasing grin on his face as he wipes the back of his hand over his mouth and winks at me.