The Devil You Know

By Angela Fiddler

Years of training have turned Bastian into a sublimely sexual weapon, capable of pulling magic to enthrall. His mission is to captivate the overlord, then kill him, when years of violent revolts had failed. Vashi wasn’t meant for Bastian’s snares, but passion catches him up in them.

Sex to Bastian is means to an end and a method of control. But Vashi shows him pleasure in sex, and that the magic Bastian can use is stronger when the two of them are as one.

Unfortunately, Bastian’s mission is a cruel and harsh one. One that demands complete and total submission, and Bastian has been purchased, body and soul. If he fails, Bastian’s people are at risk of losing their lives as much as their freedom. If he succeeds, he may lose Vashi. As ever, the devil is in the details.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Angela Fiddler
• Release date: Aug 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311240040

Angela Fiddler

Angela Fiddler is the occasional pen name of Barbara Geiger. Barbara didn’t learn that she had lived in three out of the four Northern Alberta towns that had a known or suspected Wendigo attack until well after she’d moved south to Lethbridge. She grew up loving ghost stories and pony books, and spent most of her summers on the British Columbia coast, where she fell in love with the ocean.As Angela Fiddler, she has written The Master of the Lines series as well as Cy and his sex demon problem books. As Barbara Geiger, she has written The Tempest trilogy, starting with Coral Were his Bones, which exists in the same universe as the Middlehill series, starting with Changeling, as well as various other novellas and short stories.When she’s not following the exploits of selkies, sex demons and vampires, she writes epic fantasy and makes the occasional foray into science fiction and short stories.

Book preview

THE DEVIL YOU KNOW

by Angela Fiddler

Copyright 2008 by Angela Fiddler

Smashwords Edition 2014

*****

Warning: This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and is meant to be enjoyed by adults. Please store where it cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Editor: Judith David


Cover image based on Old Pharmacy Bottle by LoggaWiggler on Pixabay, CC-BY-2.0.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

About Angela Fiddler

Angela’s other books

Read an excerpt from Cy Gets a Sex Demon

Chapter One

The room was hot, and the only sound was the roar of a fire almost too big for the fireplace. Its glow was the sole source of light, casting the occupants of the room in orange radiance and black shadows. Erasas sat alone in the big chair by the fire. He was naked, but his cock was hidden in a pool of black. He was sweating, though whether it was from the fire or the other occupant, Vashi would never know.

The other occupant was naked as well. The curls of silk scarves around him, like pools of liquid sitting above the carpet, showed that he hadn't always been nude. There was no music, other than the cracks and snarls coming from the fire, but still the young man swayed on his knees to something. The longer Vashi stood there, the more he swore he could hear the song as well, brought to the room through the whistling wind outside, the barks of dogs, and the distant clanking of guards on the wall.

Vashi knew he should have left. The door, with the cool air and silence, was just behind him, but he couldn't even force his hand to grope for it. The young man hadn't turned to Vashi yet, and Erasas certainly hadn't looked up either, but Vashi knew they knew he was there. He wasn't invited, but he wasn't unwelcome either.

The young man sat up off his heels and leaned back, suspended as though by invisible hands. He spread his knees, running his hands up and down his thighs, getting closer and closer to where his cock was up tight against his belly. He cupped his testicles, running his fingers so lightly up the length of his cock it couldn't have provided any relief at all. And he waited.

Erasas moved his throat a few times before he could actually form the word. Enough, he said.

Vashi's breath caught in his throat. It was enough. His own heart was pounding and the tight constriction over his chest was too terrible to bear. He wanted the spell, if that was what it was, to break and the heaviness inside him to go away.

But the young man on his knees wasn't done yet. He crawled forward rather than stand, then straddled Erasas’s lap. He writhed, trusting without asking that Erasas would support him. The heat of the room must have made Erasas's skin as slick as Vashi's felt, because they slid against each other as though oiled.

Enough! Erasas managed, his voice cracking twice on the short word, and the young man twisted around. It was so fluid he didn't even look as though he was made of sinew and bone. He reached behind him, and in the first motion that looked at all human, fumbled.

Erasas opened his eyes for another heartbeat, long enough for the young man to find what he was seeking. The black sheath of shadows like a living thing between their bodies hid the actual act of penetration, but the young man arched his back, leaning hard against Erasas’s body, and locked his hands behind Erasas’s neck. Erasas kissed the exposed neck. His hands on the young man’s hip drove him up and down, pacing it well for both of them. The young man’s breath was as sharp as Erasas’s.

And suddenly, together, they opened their eyes. Both the young man and Erasas stared at Vashi.

Vashi wanted to speak, to make an excuse, and to actually move his hand, now wrapped around the handle to the door, but he couldn't make himself do any of those things. The only excuse he could manage was a clicking sound with a too dry throat.

Stay, Erasas said, his voice harsher than normal.

Vashi nodded. If he could have, he would have let go of the metal handle, now as hot and as slick with sweat as his palm. His trousers were just laced up; he could have released them with one hand and wrapped his would-be free hand around his now hard cock. But he couldn't. Erasas wanted him to watch, and that was all he could do. Even breathing was relegated to the unimportant.

The young man smiled, not from the control they had, but from the sheer joy of the act of fucking. When the young man began to move again, balancing his weight impossibly at the edge of the chair, Erasas groaned and closed his eyes again. It didn't matter. Vashi couldn't look away.

And now Erasas was whispering something. Vashi had to take a step forward to hear, but apparently that was allowed. Please, Erasas whispered over and over again, and the word told the young man something. His hips stopped teasing with every thrust. He bit his bottom lip, as though what he was doing required so much concentration that the slightest distraction would break the spell.

Spell. The word felt right in Vashi’s head. It was comfortable, like a well-fitted glove that gave a thrill of satisfaction when it was slipped on. This was a spell, and the young man controlled it, even with his head thrown back. He pulled from Vashi as much as Erasas. He brought Erasas down deeper, harder, and with the right...perfect...

Erasas came. Vashi had heard him ejaculate before. It was hard not to, considering Erasas's elaborate and varied tastes. Vashi had even lent a hand now and again, though such displays were usually forbidden among equals. Every time Erasas came, Vashi knew he sounded like some sort of large rutting land beast.

That night, his hands still tight on the young man's hips as though they were the only tangible things left for him, Erasas grunted. Once, softly, and that was it.

The young man put down one foot, then the other, and pulled away silently. He turned, cleaning Erasas with a rag Vashi hadn't seen materialize, and then ducked around the room, picking up his silk.

The room was still hot, but nowhere near the inferno it had been, leaving Vashi practically chilled. The young man waited, his arms full of the silk that no longer looked like wet pools on the floor, and Vashi realized he was still blocking the door. Pardon me, he said getting out of the way, and the young man opened the door and left, taking the last bit of music with him.

Chapter Two

The door wasn't locked.

Bastian tried to relax in his chair. All around him, below him, beside him, he felt the sex. Bodies moved against bodies, men with women, men with men. The room wasn't hot, or at least the fireplace was black and cold, but Bastian felt the friction of the connections around him.

He stood up. It didn't break the connection entirely but it did keep him from becoming overwhelmed. It had been over three years since he'd been so close to so many bodies joined in lust, and he had forgotten how much his body was tied to the need around him.

He was sweating, and rubbing his palms on his thighs didn't seem to help. The sound of leather kissing flesh came over all the other sensations, and he focused on that. The pain that the sounds brought with it -- the kiss of the quirt, the grunts, the clenched teeth, the shuddering -- was strong enough that it could drive the rest of his thoughts off.

It wasn't the whore being beaten. Bastian didn't share in that willingly. It was the Camillian on the bed, his hands clasped over his head, and he wanted it.

The rise and fall of the double-tailed whip was a call Bastian couldn’t ignore. He touched his cock for the first time, holding his opened palm against the base of it. A woman on the third floor of the huge building was climaxing in her bonds. A young man down the hall was gagging on something thrust down his throat, but Bastian didn't think it was a cock. The quirt cut down again, over already reddened skin and the pain was silk against Bastian's skin. It drove off everything else, and he could ride the pain like a sleek, sweating beast between his thighs.

The two men had been close to finishing. Bastian had felt the building orgasm even before he’d interfered, but when he slid into the Camillian’s head, he couldn't come, not yet. The need for pain that had brought Bastian to the brothel was not something he could, or even wanted to control. With Bastian so close, the Camillian reveled in the pain. The whore’s whip arm, which had been starting to radiate hot, spiking muscle ache, found new strength, and the quirt fell, over and over again. It wrapped around the man’s torso, across his upper thigh, around his hip to his belly, and instead of flinching, he rolled into the pain, exposing more of his white skin to be kissed.

The sting drove him further into the place in his head that needed it, and Bastian could have ridden them both all day, but their bodies bucked and shuddered against his control. He could only hold on for so long.

The whore was hard as well, though it surprised him to be so. He was not accustomed to becoming involved in