Bumping Uglies Read online

  My name is Kiril and I’m a demon prince of the Seventh level of hell currently masquerading as a witch’s familiar. An incubus to be specific. Most people know the first part of my mistress’s story but very few know how it continued. My mistress’s name is Hortense but it is her sister who is the famous one – Cendrillon, now Queen Cendrillon who is married to King Charmian. Hortense and her sister Euphemia are the villains of the piece. The ‘ugly’ stepsisters.

  My mistress is very short – only five foot nothing, but she teeters around on very high shoes which take her up to around five foot four. She also wears her thick ropes of dark brown hair piled up on top of her head to achieve even more height. It’s a wonder she doesn’t get back ache from one or the other but no, she stalks around with her nose in the air and a terrific glower courtesy of her rather straight and bushy black eyebrows. Trust me, she’s adorable.

  “I wish to see my sister, slave” she intones imperiously and stands in front of the mirror. I roll my eyes, not again, always with the sisters.

  “Which one?”

  “Euphemia this time,” she answers for all three of them consider each other sisters. They may be dysfunctional, but they were always family.

  In truth, my mistress is a lousy witch. She took it up too late in life and does not have the temperament to consort with a coven and learn some really good tricks. She spends her time pouring over dusty old grimoires written by sad old warlocks puffed up on their own importance when in reality she should be meeting on hangman’s hill, gossiping and dancing naked under the moon. But Hortense has never been good at making friends and she has hang ups about her curvy little body courtesy of her bloody mother. I gaze ahead and see it really isn’t convenient for sister Effie right now but being a bastard I display the image anyway with a grin. Sure enough, Hortense gives an outraged squeak to see her sister on her knees, head bobbing as she enthusiastically sucks her husband’s cock. Baron Buttons grunts and groans, his hips grinding,

  “Oh yeahhh, suck me,” he groans as his wife cheerfully complies.

  “Cut the connection, fool!” screams Hortense throwing a black candle at my head. She still hasn’t gotten over the fact her sister, the biggest snob in the family married their old boot-boy let alone that she’s so happy about it. “Idiot!”

  I catch the candle and try to hide my smirk. She’s such a prude, though in truth I would never let her get a glimpse of old Charmian serving the Queen like that. I don’t want her getting any ideas. I turn my gaze onto the mirror once more before making the image vanish. The baron has grabbed his wife by her red, red hair and is telling her how he’ll punish her if she doesn’t drink every last drop of his cum. Euphemia’s eyes drift shut as she sighs with pleasure. They have quite the interesting marriage, those two. I turn my head to see my own mistress shaking her head as if to rid herself of the spectacle.

  “How dare he?” she mutters furiously. “Disgusting pig!”

  I replay the image in my head but substitute myself for Buttons and skinny Euphemia for my voluptuous mistress. I grow hard at once. Not that Hortense notices. She’s scowling now and thrown herself down onto the faded green sofa, muttering to herself. I make out the odd word which sounded like ‘men’ and ‘gross’. I sigh and try not to take it personally, after all strictly speaking I’m a demon not a man.

  “And you - when I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it immediately!” yells Hortense throwing one of the fringed cushions at me as I duck. “I’m visually scarred!”

  “I apologise mistress,” I murmur sighing regretfully. “But my powers…”

  “What?” Hortense demands sharply her grey eyes narrowing to slits. “You can’t possibly need that already!”

  I bite my lip as if ashamed.

  “Alas mistress, the connection drained so much of my powers…”

  “Oh my gods!” she shrieks in frustration. “You’re hopeless! How did I end up with such a weak demon?”

  I almost want to laugh but contain myself.

  “I’m an incubus,” I explain patiently. “You know how I feed on female sexual energy…”

  “Enough!” she interrupts me irritably having heard this speech before.

  I lower my eyes and sigh, watching her from beneath my lids. God she’s cute.

  “I’ve made mistress angry,” I say mournfully which earns another angry tut from her.

  “I couldn’t possibly during the day,” she says tossing her head primly, a pretty blush staining her cheeks. “You ask too much.”

  “Yes mistress,” I agree meekly and she eyes me suspiciously.

  I let my hand drift to my leather-clad crotch.

  “Perhaps mistress could just …”

  Hortense averts her eyes a tick twitching in her cheek.

  “Fine!” she snaps and pats the seat next to her irritably. I’m over there before you can say lickety-split. I wish she would lick me like a banana split, but unfortunately my mistress has not yet afforded me that pleasure. It’s taken me three months to convince her to give me a regular hand-job. I unlace my crotch and I spring loose, ready for action. I don’t wear smalls. I am a demon after all. Hortense takes a deep breath as I lie back against the couch. She reaches across to me.

  “Oh mistress,” I moan as her small hand attempts to encircle my shaft. She blinks at me uncertainly.

  “Does that-?”

  “Feels so good,” I encourage her, thrusting my cock firmly into her grasp.

  “Um…” she pushes her hand slowly up and down the length, tearing another groan from me. “Like this?”

  “Harder,” I urge her. “Faster.”

  She clumsily complies but somehow, just knowing it’s my cross-patch mistress with her hands on my dick gives me immeasurable pleasure, despite her lack of technique. I grit my teeth and hiss my pleasure as she picks up the pace and I can’t help from thrusting my hips up when her stroking hand comes down towards my balls. She adds a second hand to grasp me more firmly now I’m bucking into her hold. She tentatively drops one hand to finger my balls.

  “Mistress,” I gasp out, and fling my head back along the couch.

  “Sorry!” she says guiltily, thinking perhaps she’s hurt me.

  My eyes fly open.

  “Don’t stop for fuck’s sake!” I grind out.

  “What did you say?” she gasps in outrage.

  Shit! Did I say that out loud?

  “I mean, please do that again,” I plead. “You’re so good at this.”

  She huffs but gently cups my balls again, making me moan like a bitch.

  “Kiril,” she whispers biting her lip. “You’re so …big. I can hardly…”

  I shiver, hearing my name on her lips, she rarely calls me by it.

  “Fuck!” I shout and just like that I spurt all over her, long white ribbons of cum shooting up and hitting her in the face. She’s so astonished she keeps her firm grip on me as I shoot all over her face and neck. She closes her eyes and mouth and sits frozen as I unload on her and sink back onto the sofa with a groan. I’m panting and staring at her in mingled horror and fascination to see my cum glistening all over her pretty face. Shit, she’s gonna kill me! I watch, my chest rising and falling as she removes her hand from my now limp cock and rises carefully from the seat and makes her way to the bathroom, her back ramrod straight. Uh-oh I think, I’m gonna pay for that! All the while I know there’s a dumb smile playing over my face, okay, so it was totally worth it!

  So I leave it at least half an hour before I go to find her to give her chance to simmer down. Naturally, we live in a windswept grey-stone keep on the top of a hill. My mistress is an anti-social witch after all. She always heads for the same place when she’s had any kind of upset to her day. The treasure tower. This is wher
e Hortense madly hoards all her wealth and ill-gotten gains like an old miser. It’s stuffed with jewels, ropes of pearls, caskets of rubies and sacks of gold coin. This is her insurance against a cruel, harsh world that rejected her as unfit for marriage. She’s always plotting ways to get more gold, and her latest thing is books on alchemy. Sure enough, when I get to the top of the stone steps to the uppermost room I find she has done her most secretive, pleasurable thing that she always does when she is in need of a boost. She has upended five sacks of gold to make a golden dragon’s nest, stripped to her shift and is rolling around in it. It should be a disgusting spectacle of gold worship, but for me, seeing her, with her hair loose and all twinkling with gold and getting an enticing glimpse of her full milky breasts and rounded buttocks under the thin muslim, I am not so much disgusted as filled with lust. And not gold lust either.

  “Mistress,” I breathe when I see her on her back, her rosy nipples hard from the cold coin. She sits up with a squeak.

  “Who gave you permission to approach me?” she asks haughtily. “I am most displeased!”

  But I can see her bad mood has now dissipated. I play along anyway, lowering my gaze.

  “Mistress, please forgive me,” I murmur, dropping to my knees and crawling towards her. Her eyes widen in alarm and she tries to scoot up to a more dignified seated position.

  “Avert your eyes!” she splutters, trying to pull her shift down around her plump, dimpled knees.

  I’m having none of it and grab her behind both of her knees, pulling her firmly onto her back.

  “Kiril!” she blurts out in alarm as I lower my face to her rounded belly and nuzzle her through the thin fabric.

  “Mmmm, mistress!” I purr, catching her womanly scent, it’s delicious. And very strong. “Did you touch yourself?” I ask raising my head in surprise.

  “How dare you!” she chokes, trying to shove my head away but I catch her hand and sniff her fingers. And lick them. It’s unmistakable. She gasps in outrage and something else.

  “Hmmm,” I ponder. Is this a part of her gold-worship or something else? “I want a taste,” I tell her thickly as I run my hands up those milky soft thighs, bunching up her shift as I go.

  “Absolutely not,” she huffs but her legs fall apart anyway and I snicker inwardly at her token resistance.

  “Please mistress,” I whine not forgetting to play my role. I lick a soft-inner thigh anyway, making her cry out.

  “Just … just a little taste then,” she concedes, her voice wobbling, she bites her rosy underlip and closes her eyes, arching her back on a moan.

  I go to town, my mouth hot and wet on her delicious cunt. I know it must feel good with her back on the cold gold sovereigns. Hortense keens and cries out as I lick and suckle and rub my nose against her clit before sucking it into my mouth and laving it with my tongue. She bucks, so I fling her legs over my shoulders and hold her firmly in place, my hands grabbing her hips in a vice-like grip. She comes apart completely flailing around in the gold and screaming herself hoarse with pleasure. I lower her back onto the gold pile but settle onto my elbows lazily whirling my tongue over her creamy cunt, lapping up her juices as she moans and recovers from her orgasm. I can’t help but writhe slowly, my rock hard dick deriving some comfort from the shifting gold like I’m trying to fuck it. I squeeze my eyes shut from the sensory overload, lifting my head and breathing heavily against her soft lower belly. Then I feel her hand pat my head, stroke me like a pet. I look up startled and see her watching me strangely.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m so hard I hurt,” I rasp out.

  “If you want-“ she breaks off. “After all, what am I saving myself for?” Her cheeks are scarlet.

  “Are you saying I can fuck you?” I ask bluntly, clambering to my knees.

  She nods quickly and I’m tearing at my laces in a frenzy to free my cock and plunge it into her before she changes her mind. I’m babbling like a madman about how great she is and how much I love her goddamn body. Hortense clasps me between her knees and braces herself.

  “Just do it!” she growls at me and when I feel her hands grasp my back I enter her with a firm thrust. She gasps and our eyes meet. I expel a breath as she takes one and winces.

  “Ow!”

  “Sorry!” I grind out, but I’m lying and my brain is shutting down from sheer pleasure of being so deeply inside her. I shudder. She’s so tight.

  “Don’t you dare move!” she chokes out.

  “You’ll adjust,” I gasp. “Just bear with it.” I brush a conciliatory kiss along her jaw, her neck. She lies perfectly still. I realise it’s the first time I’ve kissed her. I return to her face and she tries to turn away, but I don’t let her. I want her mouth. I take it, thoroughly. When she touches her tongue to mine, I lose it and thrust into her poor stretched little pussy. She whimpers against my mouth and I manage to regain sanity again, tearing my mouth from hers.

  “Shall I stop?” I ask pained.

  She hesitates.

  “No,” she says, and I watch a tear trickle down one of her cheeks. My cock pulses inside her making us both gasp.

  “You’re so fucking perfect,” I groan. “I can’t stand it.”

  She stares up at me, her eyes round. I drop one hand to touch where we’re joined and then move round to her oversensitized clitoris. She moans and I thrust. Again, again, and again until I’m mindless and panting and I need to come hard.

  “I’m gonna pull out,” I tell her and she looks relieved although she tries to hide it. I kiss her mouth again and she lets me then I pull out and spill my seed all over her pretty pussy and soft belly and collapse against her with a deep groan. It’s only then that I hear the hammering of the keep door down below and I realise we have company. Goddamn it!

  It takes us at least ten minutes to struggle back into our clothes, we both had gold coins stuck to our nether regions from the sticky fluids we were rolling around in. Hortense slapped my hands as I tried to peel them from her backside.

  “Leave it!” she snarls, plunging down the tower stairs and nearly breaking her neck on those ridiculous heels. I pound down behind her, steadying her as she goes. We’ve both heard the trumpets by now and realise we are honoured with a royal visit. I groan inwardly. Just what I need! I should be lying in a post-coital lull about now after finally claiming my mistress’s pussy. Instead I’ve got to see that royal prick Charmian. As luck would have it, by the time we’d lowered the drawbridge and dragged back the bolts we found it was only Queen Cendrillon, her snot-nosed brat Prince Nicholas and one obligatory page.

  “Put your bloody trumpet away,” I snarled. My mistress cuffs me absently around the head before embracing her sister.

  “Hortense!” cries the queen. “It’s been too long!” She gives me a vague smile. No doubt her etiquette handbook failed her when it came to demons.

  “Cinders, come in. Nicholas!”

  The brat runs straight into Hortense’s arms and pulls a face at me over her shoulder.

  “Aunty, why don’t you get a nuther servant?” he asks sweetly. “I don’t like this one.” He says pointing a sticky finger at me.

  “Nicholas dear,” his mother interjected swiftly. “You mustn’t be rude darling.”

  Hortense is too busy fussing over the little bugger, exclaiming over how much he’s grown and how much more handsome he is growing like his papa. I can feel my hostility growing and that’s before I notice how laden down the royal carriage is with baggage.

  “Could you servant kindly help with our luggage?” Queen Cendrillon asks apologetically. “You see we’ve come for an extended visit.” Hortense’s gaze meets mine over the queen’s golden curled head.

  “Er, of course,” she agrees looking pointedly at me.

  I scowl but made my way out to wear the crested carriage bowing under the weight of its many cases.

  “How long are they staying?” I growl at the page but he just shrugs nervously.

  “I don’t think the King
even knows she’s left him yet,” he whispers as the first case slips through my fingers and crashes to the ground. Shit!

  We’re quite the merry bunch over dinner. I slam down the dishes on the table with ill concealed bad grace. Hortense ignores me and fawns over her beloved nephew and sister. Usually I sit to dinner with her at the great table. With visitors here there’s no chance of that and I’m to eat mine below stairs like the good servant. I grumble under my breath. Nicholas pokes his tongue out at me when no-one’s looking and slithers onto Hortense’s lap. I scowl and eye him evilly. Where I come from no-one dares treat me with disrespect but of course that has all changed since I’ve taken on this role. Originally when I answered Hortense’s summoning spell it was with the intention of stealing her sweet little soul. But I was bored and felt like some sport so I decided to humour her and stuck around. Then I was going to wait till she gave me her virginity. Of course, I’d had that now, but I’m not ready to descend back to my seventh layer of hell yet. Oh no. I want a few more rounds between the bed-sheets before I drag her down there to eternal torment. I’m not finished with her yet.

  “Kiril, more wine,” she orders me. “My sister’s goblet is dry.”

  Interesting. Usually she calls me ‘slave’. I feel a smirk tugging at my lips.

  “Of course, mistress,” I materialise the flagon into my hand and pour it for the queen.

  “Goodness, he’s much better than the conjurers at court!” twitters the queen. Conjurer my ass! I arch an eyebrow at Hortense but she steadfastly ignores it. Of course, she hasn’t told them I’m a sex demon which is what she believes. She clears her throat.

  “And how are things at Court,” she asks bluntly.

  “Oh fine, fine.” Cendrillon answers weakly. Even to my eyes she sounds strained and I don’t give a shit. Unfortunately my mistress does.

  “Still all plotting and gossiping no doubt,” she glowers. “Has someone upset you?” she asks ominously.

  “No, no of course not,” twitters the Queen nervously. She nods towards her son and they exchange a significant look that says ‘not in front of the child’.