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By all accounts, Gina’s magic is fairly mundane. It doesn’t require a pact, it doesn’t take a life-altering toll. It doesn’t require rare materials or components. Most of it she can do with a well-directed thought. Despite that, she likes to make a show of it when she tries something new. Which is why her bedroom floor is clean for the first time in a month. Not a single piece of laundry scattered among the complex array of candles laid out around her.
Bones, ever-supportive, sits just outside the circle at Gina’s instruction. She isn’t particularly worried, but she’s been on the receiving end of more than a few goofed up transformations in their time together, and she knows better than to make subtle alterations like a clumsy, little woman tripping over something. That’s how she winds up possessing someone’s underwear halfway across the neighborhood.
But as she watches Gina studying her spiral-bound “spell book” and grumbling about her own handwriting, she feels eyes on her back.
Naughty little thing…
Bones bristles. The voice is unfamiliar. She looks behind her, but there’s nothing. She turns back to Gina, who still has her nose deep in her book. She didn’t hear anything at all.
You don’t belong here. Leave that witch alone.
Bones is very familiar with the sensation of a hand wrapping around her, but this is different. This is…ethereal. Before she can say anything, the spectral fingers close tight, and yank her backward. The room around her blurs, and when she finally stops, she’s somewhere wholly different. Some sort of fancy living quarters, if she had to guess. All polished stone and sparkling gems. Opulent.
She doesn’t have time to take it in. The crushing grip has become all too solid. It twists around and replaces her view with piercing, pupilless, pink eyes. “Naughty imp. Planning to interfere with that girl’s ritual, no doubt…”
It feels like her ribs are about to cave in. Compressed as she is, all she can do is open her little mouth and gag in response. Then something registers in those eyes.
“Wait...”
Air. She sucks it in greedily as her captor relents ever so slightly. With the hand pulling away from the massive face, Bones takes in the rest of It: Lilac skin. A frown that’s a little too wide to fit right. Pointed ears. Nose…well, just sort of a cute nose, actually.
The ghost image of short, sharp horns glow on Its forehead. Trying to focus on them makes her eyes cross and her head hurt, which is just as well because it’s the eyes that she can’t look away from. Inquisitive, staring pointedly despite there being nothing in the pink walls to indicate where It is looking.
“You are not one of mine.”
Bones shivers, unsure whether this revelation has saved or doomed her. “N…n…no.”
“What are you?”
“I’m…Bones?”
The demon (what else could she call it?)’s frown turns into something resembling a smile, but absent of joy. “And what, pray tell, is a Bones?”
Bones is not a conversationalist. She knows you’re supposed to outwit devils for your own safety. Or…wait, was it to explicitly not do that? Oh gosh, it’s all storybooks anyway and she’s never been good under pressure, and as she feels the timer ticking down on an appropriate window within which to respond, what pours out of her mouth is, “Just…a girl?”
This time, the demon snorts. “A girl, certainly. But ‘just’? A mortal?…No, I think not. Not quite. Something altogether different. You…are a curiosity.”
If Bones wasn’t blushing before, she certainly is now. Melting under the gaze of this otherworldly creature as It stares through her. She should be terrified. And she is, but…there’s something else she really, really hopes the demon hasn’t noticed pressing against Its finger.
“I’ve noticed.”
“W-what?”
“There are no secrets in my domain. Certainly not inside pretty, little heads.” The demon licks its lips. “But I didn’t need to pry to notice that.”
“P…pretty? No. Gosh. Focus. Who are you?”
Her captor shifts. Its tone doesn’t audibly change, but she can feel a knife dragging along every single syllable. “You would make demands of a demon in the heart of its own palace?”
“…it’s just polite…”
Again, the demon snorts. “You will address me as Savior – which is what you very, very badly want me to be – until I deem it unamusing.”
“D-do I?…Amuse you?”
A silent, expectant stare.
“Do I amuse you…Savior?”
“We shall see, my little curiosity.” Savior rises from the couch It’s been lounging on, deigning to keep the hand wrapped aroundher upright and not swing Bones like any other object It owns. This luxury isn’t vocalized, but that it is a favor at great expense digs into her mind all the same.
Despite the lavish decoration, the room’s amenities are not unfamiliar. Savior seats Itself at a massive, obsidian desk and sets Bones on its surface. “I would see you. Strip.”
“S-sorry?”
Savior stares. The lash is implied.
Bones swallows, suddenly afraid of what her next careless words will bring. She reaches behind herself to unzip the little black dress Edie hand-sewed for her. She has some difficulties reaching the zipper at its peak. Savior makes no move to assist or berate, simply watches her struggle until she is able to drag it down, inch by relative inch, enough to free her shoulders.
She works it over her not-insubstantial hips, steps out of it, folds it as neatly as she can, and sets it next to her. Standing in her underwear, she looks up, knowing damn well this will not be enough.
The demon’s expectant eyes confirm.
Bones breathes deeply, attempting to stay calm and failing admirably. She undoes her bra with little fuss or flair and drops it on top of the dress. She may be at this thing’s mercy, but it can’t force her to make a show of it.
“You will address me properly.” She may as well have said it to its face. “And I could, for the record. I could make you do so many things. But that is not fun.”
Bones tries to ignore that, but the impact is clear on her face. She peels off her long black socks, opting to stumble slightly on one foot, rather than sit and lower herself further before Savior.
Finally, she hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her panties, sighs, and pulls them off without ceremony. She drops them to the side of the dress, lest the fresh, little wet spot leave a stain on her more treasured garment. She hopes Savior doesn’t notice that, then curses herself for thinking it out loud.
She looks down, admiring her own self-made figure for a moment. Small comforts. Then she throws her arms wide, in what she hopes is a defiant gesture despite her arousal on full display.
Savior’s chin is resting in Its hand, pinky tugging at the corner of Its mouth, index finger twirling a strand of hair. “Continue.”
Bones freezes. “That…that’s everything.”
“It is not.”
Behind her mask, the girl is panicking. “It…it is.”
“Continue, or I will finish for you.”
Bones stands stock still. On some level, she knows there’s no avoiding this. This is not a request, there is no reasoning with It. But her arms won’t move. If they could, her fingers would refuse to pull. “S…Savior, plea-”
It waves a hand in front of Bones’ face, and the mask evaporates. She recoils, as if struck, eyes shut tight, refusing to turn toward the heartless thing. If she doesn’t open them, she doesn’t have to acknowledge what’s been done.
“Look. Me. In. The. Eye.”
Bones shivers. She doesn’t move.
“Do not mistake amusement for patience. Your charm wears dreadfully thin.”
Bones balls her little hands into fists. She’s shaking now, more vulnerable than she’s ever felt – and that is as high as a bar can get. She breathes. She turns her head up. And she opens her eyes.
A long moment drags out between the two. The demon is no stranger to hatred, but it looks foreign on the little face before it. Unpracticed, unhoned. A fragile thing, made soft by kindness it has taken for granted. The demon smiles. It licks its lips, and whispers, “Good girl~”
Bones quivers. Her knees shake. She does not look down. She does not acknowledge the mess dripping onto the desk in front of her. Her heart pounds in her chest. Savior’s face etches itself into the back of her eyes.
This moment makes a home in the darkest corner of her heart. It will be a frequent visitor in the nights to come.
Savior, for Its part, laughs. “Yes, I think I can have quite a bit of fun with you, my little curiosity…”
Bones is silent.
“Although, you have sullied my desk.”
No response. Savior frowns.
“Acknowledge your discretion, toy.”
Again, nothing. A hand slams on the desk next to her, and she shrieks pathetically. Savior leans down slowly, deliberately to eye level. This is not an action It should be forced to take.
“That’s what you are, is it not? A toy? A doll? A pretty, little thing meant for the pleasure of others. It’s painted all over the walls of the head you so wish could be empty. I offer everything you desire, what you have been denied by niceties, by compassion. A lust so eager it spilled out of you with a word.”
Bones is shaking now, crumbling under a verbal onslaught she knows she can’t deny. She wants to say something, anything. But no words will come. She’s scared.
“I could banish you to a hole darker than your pathetic mind can imagine. I could scatter you so thoroughly across my realm that no two of your atoms would ever collide again. I could wipe your mind clean and make your empty little body dance for me for eternity. But instead, I offer a simple evening of pleasure to your taste. And you spit in my face.” Savior sighs. “To call this rebellion would be a stain on the word.”
Immaterial weight drives Bones to her knees, then onto all fours, forcing her to stare at the little pool of cum.
“You asked if you amuse me. I take no joy in broken toys. Only in breaking them. And so first, I will fix you.” Savior lifts Its head and lounges in Its chair, leaning on one arm, legs kicked over the other, cheek resting on a fist. Expression…bored. “Clean up your mess.”
She tries to resist. For a moment, it even seems like she can. Then the muscles in her neck, in her back, give out, and she collapses face-first, smearing her face in the shame.
Then, a familiar feeling. A tingling in the base of her neck.
Genuine surprise flashes on the demon’s face for just a moment as Gina’s magic overtakes Bones. Savior makes no effort to stop it.
And then she’s flat on her back in the circle in Gina’s room, fingers squeezing the carpet for fear of losing purchase again. Unresponsive to the questions pouring out of her girlfriend’s mouth.
Naked...
Her hands fly to her face, and find the familiar, smooth surface of the mask. Intact. Identical, and yet…changed.
Then the words, in her head.
Next time, no interruptions. See you soon~