The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress & Neroon]
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Neroon on 10-08-2009, 16:08:55</h2>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>10-08-2009, 16:08:55</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				It had to be a stormy night, Alistair Lethbridge thought mordantly, as he took the apparatus for the ritual down to the drawing room.&nbsp; It was typical that the weather would add it's own form of drama to the dark events that he planned.&nbsp; Well they were hardly dark, after all he was here as a rationalist, to dispel all the misconceptions that the credulous fools in his university were buying into.<br><br>Just because some charlatan had produced a few effects that could be properly explained by stage magician, there was no reason why they had to be the results of spirits summoned across some mythical ether.&nbsp; Indeed, it was more likely by far that it was not.&nbsp; The way that people were taken in by such frauds nowadays would make one think that it was still the nineteenth century and not the first days of the twentieth.&nbsp; The wonders of modern science were such that a mediaeval magician would be awed: were not elictric light and the horseless carriage marvels enough to show that the old superstitions should be left behind?&nbsp; After all, in an age in which two Americans had succeeded in creating a flying machine there should be no place for magic.<br><br>Alistair crashed into the drawing room and caused the small group of students and academics there to jump.&nbsp; He gestured grandly to them, turning around with his arms outstretched in a theatrical flourish.&nbsp; With a malicious smile he tossed back his head and brushed a byronic lock of hair from out of his eyes with a casual flick of the wrist.&nbsp; He did, indeed, look mad, bad and dangerous to know; his very appearance was calculated to make the night's events a spectacle to be remembered.&nbsp; His black hair framed a face made pale by the wan illumination of the electric lights and his claret velvet smoking jacket created a dichotomy in any civilised observer being neither formal enough for such an occasion nor so informal as to be out of place.&nbsp; Such social insecurities would be sublimated, he was sure, into the feeling of disquiet he had hoped his carefully managed surroundings had created.<br><br>"Welcome to our experiment in the arcane," Alistair began, his lips curved in a knowing half smile as he took in the audience and gauged their reactions.&nbsp; "As you see, ladies and gentlemen," he continued, chalking pentagram on the oak flooring and setting a candlestick at each point, "Mother Nature has seen fit to provide us with a sound and light show to match this evening's work in these splendid settings that the dean has vouchsafed me as a member of the faculty."&nbsp; He lit the candles with a long black taper and then took a conical flask which contained some rabbit blood which he had procured from the university school of veterinary medicine.&nbsp; He daubed the already abused wood of the floor with the blood, inscribing a circle within the pentagon formed at the pentagram's heart and lifted his head to look at his audience.<br><br>"Now, please remain calm and quiet as I begin," Alistair said.&nbsp; "The words are strange and difficult to pronounce."&nbsp; He lifted a thick parchment and studied it for a moment and then smiled sardonically.&nbsp; "Furthermore, any distraction as I go through the summoning could put my immortal soul in jeopardy," he added as an arch aside.&nbsp; After a few moments, he daubed some of the blood on his forehead and&nbsp; he began to chant, reading from the scroll.<br><br>"<em>Sciret syh da hefiw dimeht</em>," he began. "<em>B'mal, elt til ad ahyram</em>!"&nbsp; His eyes glittered as he intoned the esoteric words, his voice rising in a crescendo that peaked as he thunderously shifted from the esoteric language of the scroll to chant in Latin.&nbsp; "<em>Succube, veni.&nbsp; Veni, veni, Succube.&nbsp; Veni mihi!</em>"&nbsp; At that moment the storm struck once more, lightning flashing all around the building, there was a peal of thunder and the room was plunged into darkness,<br><br>Evidently, the lightening strike had cut the electricity, though it was hard to see why the candles had gone out also..&nbsp; As a college servant went round lighting oil lamps on the tables, Alistair could be seen by his audience standing alone in the pentagram.&nbsp; There was no succubus, the summoning had, apparently, failed.&nbsp; Some among the mixed bag of crusty academics and impressionable students sighed with disappointment, but Alistair felt vindicated.&nbsp; He had, after all just shown that the whole edifice of mysticism that had begun with the gradual acceptance of spiritism was a fraud.&nbsp; He had thrown open the doors to the supposed outer darkness and there was nothing there.<br><br>After a brief discussion of the evenings events, the gathering dispersed and Alistair sank into one of the deep leather armchairs opposite the fire, which one of the servants had started before retiring for the night.&nbsp; All in all, it had been a good night's work and now, he could relax and enjoy his solitude.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>10-08-2009, 17:19:21</strong>
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				The room had finally grown quiet.&nbsp; The only sounds to be heard were the crackling of logs in the fireplace and, if one listened closely, the sound of someone breathing.&nbsp; In a far corner of the room a curtain moved slightly as though stirred by a breeze.&nbsp; A hand appeared between the panels and long, graceful fingers parted them a few inches.&nbsp; The darkness behind the curtains gave no clue as to the identity of the owner of the hand but a faint red glow could be seen should an observer look closely.&nbsp; A second hand now emerged to grip the other panel and the opening widened to reveal a woman standing in the darkened corner.&nbsp; Her beauty was remarkable. <br><br>Dark brown hair shot through with auburn was gathered into a severe yet intricate arrangement at the crown of her head.&nbsp; Long tendrils fell in silky waves around her face, softening the effect.&nbsp; Large eyes, a shade of brown to match her hair, were surrounded by thick lashes.&nbsp; A slight upward tilt at the outside corners gave her a somewhat exotic appearance.&nbsp; Dark brows arched gracefully between her eyes and smooth high forehead.&nbsp; Her lips were full and appeared to be painted a crimson hue out of keeping with the rest of her appearance.&nbsp; The feminine line of her jaw descended to a long, swan like neck and flowed out to gently rounded shoulders exposed by the low-cut decolletage of her gown.&nbsp; Her complexion seemed to be pale as fresh drawn cream but had taken on an otherworldly glow from the fire across the room.<br><br>Thinking herself to be alone she stepped forward slowly, intent on exploring her new surroundings.&nbsp; She looked at the masculine appointments of the room and realized that nothing was familiar to her.&nbsp; Her long skirts rustled against the floor as she advanced further into the room, her eyes giving off a strange red glow that appeared to fade when she turned away from the fire.&nbsp; One hand rested at her tightly corseted waist while the other twirled a finger around a strand of hair.&nbsp; Her confusion deepened as she realized she was not only in a place foreign to her she also found herself in a time that wasn't hers.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>10-08-2009, 20:15:01</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Calm and quiet reigned in the drawing room in contrast to the drama of earlier in the evening.&nbsp; Alistair sat in his armchair cradling a snifter of brandy in his right hand and watching the fire.&nbsp; It's warm light warmed the lines of his face much as the brandy warmed the cockles of his heart.&nbsp; He had extinguished all but a single oil lamp, which rested on a table beside his chair.&nbsp; It had been a good night indeed, for by his efforts, the forces of reason were a large step closer to banishing superstition to the dark ages.<br><br>Admittedly, Alistair was a trifle disappointed that there had been no counter argument from those who preferred the woolly thinking of the superstitious.&nbsp; After all, he had prepared his counter-arguments to deal with any foreseeable objection.&nbsp; The post-experiment discussion had been as anticlimactic as the results of his summoning.&nbsp; But then again, had he not set up the the whole thing to quell argument?&nbsp; The theatricality of the summoning followed by the complete lack of any result must have been crushing for any who had believed in the magic.<br><br>Suddenly, he sat stock still, his glass held just inches from his lips.&nbsp; He was not, he realised, alone.&nbsp; Faint though they were, he could hear the sounds of someone there, creeping through the curtains behind him.&nbsp; Perhaps, he thought, some enterprising student had decided to try and... what was the term that had become fashionable with the students?&nbsp; Perhaps someone was trying to "spook" him.&nbsp; The pro-Vice Chancellor of the university, Professor Endersby, had commented in the Senior Common Room only last week that students were getting more adventurous in their pranks.<br><br>"Very funny," Alistair said coolly, refusing to let the prank ruffle his metaphorical feathers.&nbsp; "You can come out and come and sit by the fire for a while before you go back from whence you came.&nbsp; It's only fair since you made the effort to appear, after all."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>12-08-2009, 01:56:22</strong>
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				The woman had just put out her hand to touch a picture frame containing a most curious miniature portrait of a man painted in striking detail but curiously done using only shades of black, white and gray when she heard the words spoken by a masculine voice.&nbsp; Her fingers stopped inches from the frame and she became very still.&nbsp; The voice had come from behind her.&nbsp; She looked over her shoulder in the direction of the fire place and two large chairs arranged in front of it.&nbsp; Drawing back her hand and resuming an erect posture she turned her body and stepped toward the sitting area.&nbsp; The faint but unmistakable odors of man and brandy reached her causing her nostrils to flair.&nbsp; Placing one hand against her stomach and covering it with the other she stepped forward and moved slowly into the circle of light cast by the fire and an oil lamp on a nearby table.&nbsp; Her eyes went to the lamp for a second.&nbsp; It was an object she recognized.<br><br>The man drew her eyes to his. <br><br>Dressed though he was in loose-fitting clothes she could see that his body was lean and appeared to have strength.&nbsp; He would be tall and tower over her when he stood.&nbsp; He lounged in the chair, a snifter of brandy held inches from his mouth and cradled in the palm and long fingers of one hand, the other resting on the arm of the chair and cupped over the upholstered end.&nbsp; Hair that was long for a man and grew high on his forehead, fell forward in dark waves to brows lowered over blue-grey eyes that never left her.&nbsp; An aristocratic nose, high cheek bones and firm chin drew her attention to his face and his full lips, currently displaying a mocking smile.&nbsp; Staring intently at those lips she addressed him for the first time.<br><br>"You do that very well, sir," she nearly purred in a low, soft voice that held just a touch of amusement.<br><br>"Not many of my acquaintance are capable of inviting a body to sit and throwing her to the streets in the same breath." <br><br>A few graceful steps brought her to stand close in front of him.&nbsp; Leaning down and insinuating her hand between his and the balloon glass she lifted the snifter and retreated to perch on the arm of the other chair.&nbsp; After a quick glance at the brandy she shifted her gaze back to his.&nbsp; Fire light danced in the golden brown liquid as she tilted the snifter to the side causing the brandy to pool near the lip of the glass.&nbsp; Reaching in with the tip of her index finger she stirred the brandy then carried the moist digit to her mouth.&nbsp; She drew the finger back and forth across the center of the lower lip, pausing to lick the pad with the tip of her tongue before slipping the finger between her lips and sucking on it to remove the brandy.&nbsp; Her hand dropped gracefully to the neckline of her dress where she ran her thumb idly back and forth across the rounded swell at the top of her breast.<br><br>"Tell me, sir," she asked, "what is this place you have summoned me to?"<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>12-08-2009, 14:37:42</strong>
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				The woman that stepped into the light was startlingly beautiful.&nbsp; She was tall for a woman and slender, possessed of elegant curves that called out wordlessly for his caresses.&nbsp; Such was the measure of her appearance that, without intending to, she struck Alistair dumb as he stared at her.&nbsp; The smooth sinuous line of her alabaster neck and the soft tendrils of luxuriantly silky hair that caressed it captured his eyes at first, but it was the deep warm melting pools of her eyes that commanded him, "Be still," as she approached to take the snifter of brandy form his unresisting fingers.<br><br>It was not until this ethereal beauty sat on the arm of the opposite chair that the spell was broken and a soft sigh of breath that Alistair had not been aware he was holding issued from between his slightly parted lips.&nbsp; Those lips soon turned into a wry smile as he realised that "Warm yourself" could be construed as an invitation to imbibe his brandy.&nbsp; Yet oddly enough, he didn't mind this impertinence, as he had never seen such a beautiful woman and a measure or two of brandy was a small price to pay for such comely company.<br><br>"I would hardly describe the college grounds as being the streets," he said, pouring himself another snifter from the decanter that rested by the lamp.&nbsp; "And I should hardly manhandle a lady in any case, Miss..?"&nbsp; His voice lifted at the end as he left the sentence dangling for her to pick up with her name.&nbsp; His eyes followed her finger as it circled her glass and then rose to her mouth.&nbsp; How, he wondered, could such a simple action be so captivating?<br><br>Alistair was glad that he was seated, with plenty of shadow to hide his growing interest in the woman.&nbsp; He was forced to shift his position in his seat, slightly, to prevent that bulge from becoming apparent, when she pulled her finger from her mouth, lowering it towards the bewitching spectacle of her décolletage.&nbsp; To where had <em>he</em> summoned <em>her</em>?<br><br>"Oh no," he said softly, "You're not catching me like that.&nbsp; You are certainly as heartracingly beautiful to be a succubus, but we both know that the notion of such creatures is the product of fevered mediaeval imaginations."&nbsp; He took a sniff and then a sip of his brandy and smiled.&nbsp; "So come on, who put you up to it?&nbsp; Was it Endersby or his friend, that antiquarian bookseller, Fulton?"
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>14-08-2009, 02:17:52</strong>
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				"Fulton...?&nbsp; Endersby...?" she repeated the names, sounding puzzled and a little confused.&nbsp; Then shrugged one delicate shoulder in dismissal and rose to her feet.&nbsp; "I know nothing of these people."<br><br>"You, on the other hand... I cannot continue calling you 'sir'... What was it they called you?&nbsp; Ah, yes.&nbsp; Alistair.&nbsp; You, on the other hand, Alistair, are the reason I am here."&nbsp; She stepped forward as she spoke, set her brandy on the table next to the lamp and moved to stand once again close in front of him.&nbsp; The knuckle of one slender finger under his chin drew him forward in his chair and tilted his head back until he was looking up at mesmerizing brown eyes locked onto his.&nbsp; Sightly parted crimson lips inches away from his breathed lightly on his mouth.<br><br>"You may call me Caytrielle," she whispered and closed the gap between them, taking his mouth with hers in a slow, seductive kiss that brought a gasp of indrawn breath from Alistair.&nbsp; The tip of a silky tongue caressed his lips and slipped into his mouth.&nbsp; Alistair felt the pressure of her hands on his shoulders pushing him back against the chair once more and the weight of her across his knees when she settled herself in his lap.&nbsp; Caytrielle broke the hold of her mouth on his to turn a little away from him and remove the glass from his hand.&nbsp; She sipped from the snifter and set it on the table.&nbsp; Turning to Alistair once more she leaned against him with a sigh and kissed him again, letting him taste the brandy on her tongue, running her fingers through his hair and holding his head in an unbelievably strong grip.<br><br>Minutes passed or eons, who could tell, before Caytrielle lifted her head once more and looked up into Alistair's dazed countenance.<br><br>"Since you're the one who summoned me, Alistair, tell me why I'm here," she asked once more with an underlying thread of command in her voice.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>16-08-2009, 21:56:36</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Once more the woman rose to her feet and approached him.&nbsp; Once more, Alistair felt that inability to move as her eyes caught his gaze.&nbsp; Closer she came and still more close, until her eyes were inches from his and her honeyed breath caressed his lips.<br><br>No doubt, his breath must have caressed her lips in return, for he dimly realised he was breathing much harder than normal.&nbsp; However, such toughts were soon driven from his mind by the insistent pressure of the woman's- of Caytrielle's- lips on his.&nbsp; Never had he been so affected by a kiss: it was as if his whole world shrank until it was encompassed by those soft lips and teasing tongue.<br><br>As Caytrielle's tongue twined around his, Alistair returned her kiss eagerly, surrendering to the gentle pressure of her hands on his shoulders as she eased him back so she could sit in his lap.&nbsp; When she broke the kiss, Alistair hasped in disappointment and took in a lungful of her perfume.&nbsp; He was in quite a state and was hard pressed to keep himself from writhing beneath her as she pulled the glass from his fingers.<br><br>The next kiss was even more devastating.&nbsp; This time, as Caytrielle insinuated her fingers into his hair, he slid his arms around her pulling her closer.&nbsp; Whatever it was about her, she was irresistible and he lost himself in that seemingly eternal kiss.<br><br>Yet all too soon it was over and Alistair found himself staring at her preternaturally beautiful face.&nbsp; He had summoned her?&nbsp; What did she mea....<br><br>Oh, he realised, she meant <em>that</em>. That would mean that she was really a... But... How..?&nbsp; Alistair's mind flitted from half formed thought to half formed thought, his ability to think utterly derailed by both the incredibly distracting presence in his lap and by the sudden realisation that he had a succubus in his lap, that everything he had believed was wrong.&nbsp; So it was that his answer to her question lacked the urbane polish that had&nbsp; won him so much admiration as a public speaker.<br><br>"You answered my summons" Alistair half groaned, his fache flushing.&nbsp; "You mean you're really a succubus and you're going too..." His voice trailed off and he shifted in his seat beneath her nervously and found that slight rubbing very distracting indeed. "Oh God!"
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>21-08-2009, 17:23:52</strong>
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				Limpid brown eyes watched the play of emotion on his face as realization dawned on Alistair that his incantation had been successful.&nbsp; This tantalizing creature in his arms was, in fact, the succubus he had attempted to summon earlier that evening, a creature in whose existence he hadn't believed.&nbsp; A small part of him wanted to repel her but a stronger inner force made him pull her closer to him.&nbsp; <br><br>Caytrielle smiled at his confusion, toying with the locks of hair falling over his forehead.&nbsp; One finger of her other hand traced a line from his ear, along his jaw to his chin and down his throat before hooking into the neckline of his shirt and opening the top button.&nbsp; "Yes, Alistair, I really am a succubus."&nbsp; Caytrielle kissed him softly on the lips and shifted slightly in his lap, causing Alistair to groan against her mouth.&nbsp; A second button then a third yielded to the pressure of her finger and thumb.&nbsp; "And yes, Alistair, I'm going to..."&nbsp; Caytrielle slipped her hand inside his shirt, gently caressed him, and then drew a perfectly manicured nail across his nipple.&nbsp; His body tried to jerk away but there was nowhere for it to go.<br><br>"You may call on any deity you wish, Alistair.&nbsp; None will avail you."&nbsp; As the last few buttons of his shirt gave way Caytrielle pulled it clear of his trousers and loosed his arms around her waist.&nbsp; “I've been created for one purpose and one purpose alone,” she said as she stood and drew him to his feet.&nbsp; Looking up at him she pushed the loosely fitted smoking jacket over his shoulders and down his arms, letting it fall off his hands onto the floor.&nbsp; Caytrielle drew in her breath causing her breasts to rise against the taut bodice of her gown, a self-satisfied smile appearing on her face as Alistair focused his gaze on the shadowy indentation at the center of her neckline.<br><br>“I find this gown to be very… constricting, Alistair,” seeming to caress his name as she spoke it.&nbsp; “Would you undo the hooks?” she asked, presenting her back to him.&nbsp; Red eyes flared beneath her brow as he worked at the tiny hooks with fingers made clumsy by his haste.&nbsp; “These are so tiny,” she heard him murmur in frustration.&nbsp; “I don’t want to tear…”&nbsp; The remainder of the fastenings came undone easily now.&nbsp; Caytrielle turned to him again, the bodice of her gown sagging to reveal the lacy edge of a thin chemise.&nbsp; Taking Alistair’s hands in hers she drew him toward the fire and knelt before him amid piles of cushions scattered on the floor, coaxing him down beside her.<br><br>They turned to face each other, her hands on his shoulders and his about her waist.&nbsp; “You summoned me, Alistair,” she reminded him again.&nbsp; “I’m here to do your bidding,” she said watching his eyes studying her mouth.&nbsp; “What do you desire?”<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>24-08-2009, 00:02:48</strong>
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				Alistair was all but panting by the time Caytrielle asked him of his desire.&nbsp; He had no doubts left, no doubts at all that she was what she claimed to be.&nbsp; How else could she have so swiftly made him so desperate.<br><br>As she had peeled away his shirt he had felt a surging tide tide of desire overwhelm him.&nbsp; He ached and fought to regain some composure but something about her was overwhelming.&nbsp; With trembling fingers made clumsy by need he reached to loosen her&nbsp; bodice.&nbsp; His pulse hammered in his ears as he strove to undo the fiddly fastenings.<br><br>He was beyond thought now, utterly possessed by the desire she evoked in him, he mutely allowed her to draw him onto the pile of cushions that had somehow appeared before the fire.&nbsp; Inches away from her face, he heard her as she bade him confess his desires to her.&nbsp; This close to her, there was only one desire that mattered and, gingerly. he reached up to her face with one hand and to her breast with another.&nbsp; His palm grazed the nipple that was poking solidly through the diaphanous fabric of her chemise.&nbsp; He slid the fingers of his other hand into her glorious hair and pulled her to him for an urgent, needful kiss, pausing only to murmur the single word of his answer, which was fortunate for it was doubtful that his lust-addled brain was capable of more than a single syllable.<br><br>"You..."<br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>29-08-2009, 21:22:09</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				That utterance was Alistair’s last coherent act before taking Caytrielle’s mouth, parting her lips and entwining his tongue with hers.&nbsp; He rubbed the palm of his open hand in a circular motion over her taut nipple until she moaned then closed his fingers around her breast, roughly kneading her flesh. <br>&nbsp;<br>Sliding her arms free of her gown and pushing it to the floor, Caytrielle leaned into Alistair, fitting her curves to him, caressing his hardness with her body for a moment before pulling away.&nbsp; Her hands slid into the narrow space she left between them and undid his trousers and pants, shoving them down over his hips before pressing herself against him once more and cupping his buttocks in her hands.&nbsp; The sheer cotton of her underclothes was the only barrier between them now.<br><br>Pulling her mouth from his she tells him, “I’m yours, Alistair.&nbsp; I’m here to fulfill your every fantasy.&nbsp; Show me your dreams.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>29-08-2009, 23:23:39</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Alistair was not really up to thinking about fantasies.&nbsp; Indeed he was, by this time, not up to thinking at all.&nbsp; All of his attention was consumed by her soft skin and the heady musk of her scent.&nbsp; He moaned with mixed desire and frustration as he pushed her back onto the cushions and pressed himself against her only to discover the flimsy fabric barring his way.<br><br>He panted as his skin rubbed against hers, crushing her breasts against her chest and, with a growl of desire his hand dropped to rip away the thin cloth.&nbsp; Now, nothing barred his way and the growl of desire that had accompanied the ripping modulated into a moan of pleasure as he slid slowly into her.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>02-09-2009, 04:54:10</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<br>Caytrielle drew in a breath at Alistair's violent rending of her garment and the sounds rising from his throat.&nbsp; She released that breath slowly, moaning, as Alistair entered her raising her hips to take him easily and drawing up her knees, allowed the movement of his hips to push them wide apart.&nbsp; She easily accepted his crushing weight and taking his head in her hands drew his mouth to hers.&nbsp; She parted her lips and ran the tip of her tongue over his.<br><br>She felt him shiver and press against her before pulling back, nearly leaving her completely and thrusting forward again.&nbsp; Her hips met his thrust and her body arched up against him.&nbsp; Demonic eyes began to burn red with fire as Alistair's passion for her increased.&nbsp; She ran her hands down his back and raked the nails of her curled fingers upward toward his neck, not marking him but leaving reddened tracks behind.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>06-09-2009, 20:25:46</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Alistair arched his back as Caytrielle's fingers raked his flesh.&nbsp; Somehow, the pain only served the intensify the pleasure provided by the moist fiction of their coupling.&nbsp; He began to pump his hips, fully possessed by the rhythms of their coupling.<br><br>His tongue darted into her mouth and twined around hers as he kissed her fervently.&nbsp; Their mouths locked together, they writhed amid the cushions and soon Alistair lost all sense of time or place.&nbsp; All he knew was her and that was all he wanted to know.&nbsp; His hands wandered over her curves and he began to thrust harder, faster and deeper as he felt the need to climax build inside him.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>08-09-2009, 15:05:30</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Caytrielle, a creature whose sole purpose was to inflame men's passions and drive them wild with desire, worked her demonic spell on Alistair.&nbsp; Her eyes were burning embers set into their sockets as she stroked and caressed this man who had the power to summon her and hold her here.&nbsp; She moved her hips beneath him, meeting each lust-filled stroke of Alistair's with a powerful thrust of her own, her groaning breaths washing over his tongue, and her arching back raking her nipples across his chest.&nbsp; <br><br>The strength of Alistair's lust for her, combined with Caytrielle's demon powers, stirred the air around them.&nbsp; Flames shot high up into the chimney, draperies stirred and curtains billowed into the room in front of closed windows.&nbsp; Loose papers blew across the surface of the desk and fluttered to the floor.<br><br>Using all her tools and tricks, Caytrielle fed Alistair's lust, driving him to the edge of madness.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>08-09-2009, 23:22:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				With a hoarse scream, Alistair convulsed in the demoness' embrace as his climax overtook him.&nbsp; He bucked and writhed against her and almost blacked out with the extremity of his passion.&nbsp; Yet, somehow, he held onto consciousness through it all.&nbsp; It seemed to him, as though the the room itself reacted to the explosion, but that of course was utterly ridiculous.<br><br>As his breathing returned to normal, so to did his wits.&nbsp; How could this have happened, she had barely been in the room twenty minutes and he had...&nbsp; He could barely take it in.&nbsp; It was as if the rules of society suddenly ceased to apply and he had... well, he knew all too well what he had done and in less time than he would normally feel confident in reaching out to hold a woman's hand.<br><br>And yet it had felt so good; indeed she still felt unbelievably good against him, a miracle of smooth fragrant skin and deliciously yielding curves. And that thought just made him more aware of what they had done only moments earlier and aware of the fact that, already he wanted to do it again.<br><br>"I never realised," he began and then his voice trailed off as he did, in fact, realise that he couldn't end that sentence.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>16-09-2009, 05:05:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Caytrielle lay there watching the confusion on Alistair's face and reaching out to stroke her fingers up and down his thigh.&nbsp; She smiled at his utter bewilderment and the reason for it.&nbsp; His world had taken a turn he never would have expected and he was trying to make sense of what was going on.&nbsp; She chuckled and called his name.<br><br>"Perhaps some brandy would help," she said when he turned to look at her.<br><br>"Brandy," he repeated in a befuddled tone, then clearer, "yes, brandy would help."&nbsp; He rose and went to the table and added a little of the aromatic spirit to each glass and stood for a few seconds swirling them in his palms to warm them before turning to hand one of the snifters to...&nbsp; Caytrielle?&nbsp; Looking around, completely at a loss, he could see neither the woman nor the pile of cushions.&nbsp; He turned to the left, then to the right, searching the room for what he thought was there but wasn't... or did he make it up... or was he losing his mind?<br><br>Turning completely around, he finally saw...&nbsp; Caytrielle?...&nbsp; standing near the entrance to the room.&nbsp; But it didn't look like Caytrielle.&nbsp; Or it did but a different Cayrielle.&nbsp; The woman had Caytrielle's face and coloring but was dressed in a dark grey gown of very sever cut and style.&nbsp; Her hair was pulled up and out of her face into a tight bun at the nape of her neck.&nbsp; A small hat perched on her head and her white gloved hands were clasped primly at her waist.&nbsp; She stepped forward, a frown on her face, looking down at the drinks and up at Alistair.<br><br>"You might want to offer a lady a seat before pouring drinks," her voice a little condescending and quite a bit disapproving but still with the underlying note of sensuality he recognized.&nbsp; "Although, if one of those is for me, you've wasted it.&nbsp; I don't approve of strong spirits."&nbsp; Her eyes swept up and down his body and growing red to his roots he recalled his state of undress and looked down and saw he wasn't...&nbsp; undressed.&nbsp; His head was spinning and he wasn't at all sure what was happening to him.&nbsp; In a state of obvious bewilderment he looked at her and asked:<br><br>"What...?"<br><br>"You advertised for an assistant.&nbsp; I replied and you asked me to come at this time for an interview.&nbsp; If I had known you'd be here alone, though, I would have refused to come."<br><br>"An assistant?"<br><br>"For your research," she replied with exagerated patience.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>10-10-2009, 00:41:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Things were getting more than a little surreal. Had everything that had hapened been a dream?&nbsp; Or was this a dream?&nbsp; What Alistair had done had seemed real; he felt a sudden throb as he thought about it and ammended his thought, it had felt extremely real.&nbsp; And yet the evidence now seemed to contradict this: he was dressed and about to conduct an interview...<br><br>Interview?&nbsp; Something about this did not seem right but what was it?&nbsp; He had conducted interviews in the drawing room here before, though it was not exactly normal.&nbsp; Similarly, while offering an interviewee a drink was not usual, it was not unheard of.&nbsp; Had he fantasised the whole thing about this woman who was hoping to become his assistant?&nbsp; Alistair left Caytrielle's drink on a table near a wingbacked chair and quickly took a sip of his own to cover his disquiet at that thought and sat down.<br><br>"Please take a seat, Miss...?" He let his sentence remain incomplete as a means to ask the woman her name.&nbsp; He had a memory of the name Caytrielle but he was already doubting his memories as he watched her sit down.&nbsp; The single oil lamp and the firelight made the woman's hair shine like burnished bronze and then Alistair realised what was wrong about this interview.<br><br>"I'm gratified that you are keen to become my assistant," he said with a smile.&nbsp; "And I would be interested in knowing what qualifies you to become my assistant.&nbsp; However, the hour is late and perhaps this conversation had best happen in the morning. I am sure I must have said 10 a.m. and not 10 p.m."&nbsp; He shrugged apologetically and took anther sip of his brandy.<br><br>"I can answer any questions you might have about the position now," Alistair said.&nbsp; "However, the interview proper should not happen 'till the morning.&nbsp; It would be unseemly to do otherwise, would it not?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>13-10-2009, 22:12:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>The woman stared at him as though he had taken leave of his senses.&nbsp; Stripping the gloves from her delicate hands, she opened her bag and removed a folded note bearing a broken seal.&nbsp; Looking up again at the professor and appearing to be pondering a weighty decision, she finally sighed and handed him the small packet.<br>&nbsp;<br>“Your note clearly states I’m to present myself at 10:00 a.m. this morning to be interviewed for the position as your assistant.&nbsp; Your note also led me to believe your housekeeper would be present for the interview.”&nbsp; She sat and watched as he unfolded the note and read a note written in his own hand, addressed to Miss Cayt Rrielle, and requesting her to present herself for the interview at the time she stated.&nbsp; Before he finished she was on her feet, moving toward the windows, the tell-tale red glow&nbsp; emanating from her eyes, eyes that Alistair couldn’t see with her back toward him.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp;<br>“Perhaps I you had permitted you housekeeper entrance into the room earlier she could have opened the drapes and you’d be better able to see,” and with that Caytrielle pulled aside the heavy fabric and bright morning sun flooded the room.&nbsp; She proceeded to open the remaining drapes, allowing additional light into the study while, unnoticed by Alistair, the fire in the grate dimmed to barely glowing embers.<br>&nbsp;<br>“I took the liberty of asking your housekeeper to bring tea,” Caytrielle informed him as she crossed the room to him and seated herself once again.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp;<br>“Now, I do have other commitments today and would appreciate it if we could move along with the interview.&nbsp; I’d like to know first, however, what the exact nature of your work is and what requirements your assistant needs to have and the duties your assistant will be expected to perform.”&nbsp; Alistair looked from Caytrielle to the letter and back up again.&nbsp; He was just about to speak when there was a knock on the door and the housekeeper entered carry a tray.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>21-10-2009, 21:55:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mrs Connell, the housekeeper, bustled into the drawng room with a tray laden with a tea pot, two cups and a plate of biscuits.&nbsp; A small jug of milk and a sugar bowl completed the accoutrments of the ritual that Alistair had become familiar with a Mrs Connell Serving The Tea.&nbsp; The woman was, quite literally unstoppable, and he watched Miss Rrielle carefully, to see how she would cope with Mrs Connell's implacable need to lubricate any social gathering with an infusion of <em>Camellia sinensis</em> in hot water.<br><br>"Just don't you worry, dear," the old woman burbled cheerfully, "You'll soon feel better with a cup of tea inside you.&nbsp; Now, just you sit yourself down and I'll serve you a nice cuppa."&nbsp; Mrs Connell's stubbly upper lip curled with disdain when she saw the brandy snifter in Alistair's hand.&nbsp; "Now don't you think it's a little early for the hard stuff, sir?" Mrs Connell asked, with a conspicuous absence of servility in her voice.&nbsp; "I'll not be having it, you know.&nbsp; Now, let me take that dreadful glass away and I'll get you a cup of tea."<br><br>Before Alistair could react, the old housekeeper had surreptitiously taken the glass from his hand and replaced it with a cup and saucer of hot tea.&nbsp; Alistair's visitor was also soon equipped with a cup and Mrs Connell was soon making her way out of the room, muttering in annoyance something about alcohol in the morning being just a short step from the moral terpitude called coffee.<br><br>"It seems then, you are perhaps, right after all about the time being right for an interview," Alistair said, sipping his tea, the rigmarole of the tea ceremony having given him time to gather his wits.&nbsp; "My work is straightforward- academic research into the myths and legends that form the bedrock upon which our culture is based.&nbsp; As for what I expect my assistant to do, that depends on the calibre of the assistant.&nbsp; A low grade assistant will simply assist with filing and simple secretarial duties, while a candidate of a better grade can expect to take a full part in all research activities and be a true research assistant, even to the extent of being able to use any independent research as the basis of an MPhil."&nbsp; He looked at her appraisingly and tilted his head.&nbsp; "You do have a degree don't you?&nbsp; After all, some of the more progressive universities have been giving them to women for years now."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>23-10-2009, 20:22:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Caytrielle watched Mrs. Connell’s preparations with the tea tray she sat on the table next to Alistair.&nbsp; Smiling warmly at the woman she seated herself and accepted her cup, having indicated that just a touch of sugar was her preferred addition.&nbsp; A little devilish glee entered that smile at the housekeeper’s attitude toward Alistair and his seeming predilection for morning drink.<br>&nbsp;<br>The demon sipped her tea with red eyes glowing, noting Alistair’s attention to Mrs. Connell’s departure.&nbsp; Turning her head slightly toward him Caytrielle listen to Alistair’s questioning of her qualifications and sighed audibly.&nbsp; Lowering her saucer to her lap and resting the tea cup on it she turned more fully in his direction and cleared her throat.<br>&nbsp;<br>“Perhaps you might want to reacquaint yourself with my degrees and qualifications as well as my references,” she said, nodding to a modest sheaf of papers projecting from beneath the tea tray Mrs. Connell had left behind.&nbsp; “You’ll see that with two degrees, several published articles, and references from the renowned authorities with whom I’ve worked, I’m more than qualified to fully participate in your research.&nbsp; Although, I don’t mind filing the odd document, now and then.”<br>&nbsp;<br>“That is, if you bothered to read them in the first place,” she added, a slightly acerbic note entering her voice.<br>&nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp;
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>26-10-2009, 23:09:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Hmmmm.... St Hilda's, Oxford, eh?"&nbsp; Alistair said, looking over the sheaf of papers.&nbsp; "BA with first class honours in Classics... MA in Myhology and Folklore... Seems in order."&nbsp; He looked up and smiled briefly before looking over a second list.<br><br>"An impressive list of papers to your name there," he remarked.&nbsp; "This collaboration with Whittington: 'Three as the Magic Number in Mediaeval Mayoral Politics' strikes me as particularly impressive as does this one, with Dexter-Ward: 'Providence and Possession- Two Sides of Fortune'.&nbsp; However, I think that your translation of Ebn Khallikan's twelfth century biography of Abdul Alhazred was especially ambitious."&nbsp; He put the papers down and steepled his fingers.<br><br>"So tell me, then," he asked.&nbsp; "With these credentials and qualifications, I do have to wonder what appeal my humble department has for you."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>29-10-2009, 06:52:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Caytrielle set her cup back in the saucer and looked at Alistair.<br><br>"Well, Professor, you have a widely-known reputation for being one who likes to debunk superstition.&nbsp; I believe the words nonsense and twaddle have been used to describe you feelings about this subject."&nbsp; She looked him directly in the eye.&nbsp; <br><br>"As one who has a strong belief in many thing we can't see, I've decided to see if what you believe can be proven.&nbsp; It's very hard to proved something does not exist."&nbsp; The turned and set her cup down on the tray, folded her hands in her lap and shifted in her seat to face him.<br><br>"Tell me, Professor, if you don't mind," she began again, just a ghost of a smirk to her mouth, "What was the latest so-called myth you tried to disprove.&nbsp; I believe you had such a session last night."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>30-10-2009, 22:34:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It might have been the tea or it simply might have been that Alistair's had finally began to work efficiently.&nbsp; He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that things were not as they should be.&nbsp; He was, after all, still dressed as he was the previous night and he never drank alcohol before noon, and yet there had been Mrs Connell tutting as him holding a snifter of brandy in the morning's light.<br><br>Furthermore, he reasoned, he could not recall actually advertising for an assistant, and yet here he was interviewing a young woman who bore an implausibly striking resemblance to Caytrielle the succubus who had driven him to such heights of ecstasy the night before.&nbsp; With that remembrance, he shifted in his seat, hoping that the sudden bulge in his trousers was not visible.&nbsp; With <em>that</em> distracting him, he passed over the fact that the woman's name was a ludicrously simple anagram of the demoness' remained in his subconscious until her question about the night before suddenly pulled it up into his conscious mind along with the fact that he had not actually any memory of anything between laying in the succubus' embraces and this rather peculiar interview.<br><br>"What was I investigating last night?" he asked, hoping his gaze was suddenly skewering her in place as though she were an undergraduate attending her first tutorial.&nbsp; "I'll let you know, Caytrielle, when the investigation is over.&nbsp; However, I fear that the investigation is pointing both ways, is it not?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>04-11-2009, 19:04:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Caytrielle swirled the remainder of the tea in her cup and watched intently as the dregs settled, the leaves suspended in the liquid drifting to the bottom in a pattern that would have interested a practitioner of the arcane science of reading such things.&nbsp; She smirked at the professor's attempts to trip her up, a faint red glow reflecting back to her from the surface of the tea then dimming as she decided to play the game his way for the moment.<br><br>"Rumor has it,&nbsp; Professor, that you were going to attempt to call up or conjure a demon," she said softly, an edge of amusement to her voice.&nbsp; "Was rumor correct, Professor?&nbsp; And were you successful?"&nbsp; She turned her head to look past her shoulder, meeting his eyes, blatantly disregarding his question and challenging him to continue toying with her.&nbsp; His intelligence pleased her and she decided that this human would be very entertaining in any number of ways.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>08-11-2009, 15:46:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Rumour, eh?" Alistair replied with a sardonic lift of his eyebrow.&nbsp; "I would say that you know the answers to both of those questions, wouldn't you?"&nbsp; He stood, suddenly, and went to rest one hand on the mantlepiece, turning to regard her almost clinically.&nbsp; Certainly, he thought, in this form, she was not able to distract him as effectively as the previous night and so ruinously devastate his detachment.<br><br>On the mantlepiece was a scroll, which Alistair had left before the experiment as a precaution lest the experiment prove successful.&nbsp; After all, he might be a sceptic, but he was by no means a fool: disbelief is no protection if that which you do not believe in actually exists.&nbsp; He took the scroll and read the first three words of the banishment.<br><br>"Sesorf ognir agnir!"&nbsp; Alistair looked up at her as the words rolled of his tongue.&nbsp; "Seis opfoll uftek copa."&nbsp; He paused and held up a finger, tilting his head at her and putting the scroll back down.&nbsp; "I have memorised the words quite thoroughly," he said.&nbsp; "So, before I continue, let's have a little honesty, shall we?&nbsp; If you don't want to hear the incantation in full, that is.&nbsp; What is your purpose here and why all of these mind games?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>16-11-2009, 00:04:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				&nbsp; &nbsp; “I know nothing of mind games, Professor,” the demon responded, though the recitation of the portion of the spell had discommoded her more than a little.&nbsp; “You appear to have prepared for the worst eventuality it seems in availing yourself of what I assume to be a reversal incantation.”&nbsp; Caytrielle knew that a complete reading of the words would send her back from whence she came and should he choose to do so that was his right.&nbsp; It would reflect neither good nor ill should he return her to her father, but she found this human amusing and wished to remain with him as much as possible.<br>&nbsp;<br>She rose from her seat and turned away from him, moving to the desk some steps away.&nbsp; As she went the red glow entered her eyes once more and though he couldn’t see it he perhaps felt a psychic draft as her own spell brushed past him to touch the scroll.&nbsp; She smiled to herself as the remaining words appeared in her mind.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp;<br>“Professor Lethridge,” she began, turning back toward him and moving a little closer,&nbsp; “I have no knowledge of what is purported to have occurred here last evening, nor do I know of its success or failure.”&nbsp; She sighed much like a long suffering governess dealing with a recalcitrant child.&nbsp; “If your experiment was not a success and you failed to summon a demon then I am merely an applicant for a position you advertised.&nbsp; If you succeeded and summoned a demon then complete your reading and send me home.”&nbsp; Silence reigned in the room following her challenge.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>17-11-2009, 21:57:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Alistair looked at the woman he was now certain was a succubus and his eyes narrowed.&nbsp; She was clearly gambling- calling his bluff in the hopes that he would back down.&nbsp; It was, he thought, only to be expected, for she must surely think that if she were to admit her true nature then surely the banishing would follow.&nbsp; Of course, that was a flawed line of reasoning as, if he were going to banish her, he would have done so already.<br><br>So, she had opted for a game of chance, of bluff and counter-bluff.&nbsp; Perhaps that was how beings such as her worked immortal and ageless, they had to have some method of making all those endless millennia pass without undue boredom.&nbsp; His head shook just just a fraction as he mentally told himself to deal with the matter at hand rather than speculate on something he would likely never know the truth of.<br><br>It was time to call her on her bluff.&nbsp; He turned to her and looked her in the eye and began to intone the words, slowly and deliberately, pausing dramatically before reciting that final word, "Llaew."<br><br>"<em>Sesorf ognir agnir.<br>Seis opfoll uftek copa.<br>Ooh Sati! Ooh Sati!<br>N'wod! llaf...</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>28-11-2009, 15:34:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br>Caytrielle smiled to herself, knowing that should he complete the spell nothing would happen.&nbsp; He had made the mistake that many make when creating a spell and while all the words were correct he had ordered them in a way that made nonsense of the incantation.&nbsp; It wouldn't take him long to discover what was wrong, though, and make the necessary adjustments.&nbsp; The dilemma before her now was finding the appropriate way to handle him and his error.&nbsp; <br><br>Even though she acknowledged that this human had every right to banish her to her origins once more, Caytrielle realized she had no wish to go.&nbsp; She was finding this time and place and most of all this human eminently entertaining and wished to stay and play for a while.&nbsp; Satan forgive her, she had little enough enjoyment in her existence and craved a diversion.&nbsp; She made a decision that, for good or ill, she hoped would prolong her sojourn with this man.<br><br>“Professor, I know what will happen should you complete the incantation.&nbsp; The question is, now that you believe you’ve summoned your demon, your succubus, do you really wish to send her back again?”&nbsp; Before Alistair could speak and without seeming to move a muscle, Caytrielle was standing in front of him, close to him, looking up into his eyes and laying a hand upon his chest.&nbsp; A faint tinge of red brightened her gaze as she slid her hand up over his chest and around to the back of his neck applying no pressure, just laying her hand against him.&nbsp; It wasn’t her fault if he thought she was pulling his head down to hers, or was it?<br><br>“Well, Alistair,” she purred, “do you truly wish to give up the chance to study the demon you summoned?&nbsp; The demon you believe doesn’t exist?&nbsp; The demon you chose to demonstrate could <em>not</em> be summoned?”&nbsp; Her lips were a hair’s breadth away from his and as he looked at her he saw that her auburn waves lay loose about her shoulders, shoulders that were bare and smooth.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>30-11-2009, 01:04:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Once more, Alistair felt his perceptions swim.&nbsp; How had she moved so fast?&nbsp; Wasn't her hair up a moment ago?&nbsp; And where had her clothing gone?&nbsp; He could hardly begin to congratulate himself that he had guessed right when he hand pressed to his chest.&nbsp; That simple pressure was enough to take his breath away, for with the touch of her hand came a&nbsp; sudden stirring of his blood, a warm tingling that burned through his veins to spread through his body. As he hand caressed up his chest and over his shoulder, that warmth became an ache of desire that all but eradicated his ability to think.<br><br>"No," he heard himself saying as if from far away.&nbsp; H could not work out, though, what he was saying no to.&nbsp; Was he agreeing with her, that he really didn't want to send her away or was some last shred of resistance giving him the strength to tell her that he didn't want this.&nbsp; But he did want this.&nbsp; He did want her here and he wanted what she was doing to him.&nbsp; Part of him knew it was wrong and that he should send her away but before it could assert itself his lips touched hers and suddenly he was kissing her passionately.&nbsp; The entire world faded away and all that remained was that kiss, her lips burning against his.&nbsp; Mrs Connell could have returned to the room and taken her teapot and poured the scaling tea it contained into his trousers and still he would not have noticed, so lost was he in that kiss.<br><br>How the kiss ended, he didn't know but Alistair became aware that he was able to think again.&nbsp; He stirred, almost restlessly and pulled away slightly.&nbsp; Somehow, during that kiss everything changed and he knew now that he could never banish her. <br><br>"You can stay, but none of these games between us," he said.&nbsp; "I'll let you play the part of my live-in assistant, if- and only if- you are honest with me when we're alone."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>06-12-2009, 23:17:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His denial, or acceptance, in the instant before their lips connected made Caytrielle smile to herself.&nbsp; At the same time she did something she’d never done before.&nbsp; As the glow started to invade her eyes she damped it down and withheld the spell.&nbsp; This was not a kiss she wanted forced, a kiss she manipulated and used to trick him.&nbsp; This was a kiss she wanted him to give freely and though she had urged his mouth to close on hers she left it up to him to decide to stay in her embrace, to kiss her or pull away.&nbsp; <br><br>He chose to kiss her and it was a wonderful kiss, indeed.&nbsp; It pleased her greatly.&nbsp; His lips were warm and firm on hers and her response was genuine.&nbsp; She kissed him back because she wanted to and not because her demon nature dictated she behave that way.&nbsp; She found herself becoming lost in that kiss and pulled back, releasing him.&nbsp; His ardor had increased with each second and she was suddenly afraid that she was pushing him again.<br><br>Caytrielle’s eyes looked into his as he pulled away and spoke, agreeing to let her stay on one condition… honesty between them when they were alone.&nbsp; Stepping away from him again, Caytrielle walked back toward Alistair’s desk trailing the red silk skirts of her gown behind her.&nbsp; Honesty was not something that came easily to her.&nbsp; She was a demon after all, but she wanted to stay.<br><br>“I’ll stay, Alistair,” she said, “on your terms.&nbsp; I’ll be your assistant and I’ll be honest with you.”&nbsp; What heart she had was beating hard within her breast and she was surprised to find her palms were damp.&nbsp; Did it really mean that much to her that he agreed to let her stay?&nbsp; &nbsp;Why was that?&nbsp; <br><br>“Did you say “live-in” assistant?" her head tilted to one side.&nbsp; "How will you explain that when people ask?”&nbsp; Caytrielle stood in front of him again, using her trick of relocating without seeming to move, and looked up at him, her hands behind her back, her brown eyes puzzled and lips pursed in a pouty grimace.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>24-12-2009, 16:11:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was at this point that Alistair's brain began working once more, though he was still lacking a certain objectivity about matters.&nbsp; For example, he was not really considering the fact that he had invited what was to all intents and purposes a powerful demoness to live in his home and that, as a result, he would be permanently exposed to her influence.&nbsp; Neither was he considering the other fact that, until a few hours ago, he had not believed that such a being as Caytrielle could actually exist nor the circumstances of her trying to deceive him that she was a mortal woman.<br><br>No, all he could think about was the wonderful warm body pressed against his, the beautiful eyes into which he was staring and the musky intoxicating scent of her perfume.&nbsp; His mind whirled with the possibilities of what they might achieve together and he was vexed with the sudden difficulty that her question had thrown in front of him.&nbsp; How, indeed, would he be able to carry off the fact that there would be an overwhelmingly attractive and undeniably nubile young woman living in his home.&nbsp; <br><br>While these were more permissive times than when the late queen was on the throne, she had not been gone so long that the repressive moral tone she had set throughout her reign had not gone entirely.&nbsp; Or even in the most part, for that matter, Alistair thought.&nbsp; His career would be torn to shreds if there were any hints of impropriety about his conduct and Alistair's career had always been very important to him.&nbsp; Yet now, something- someone- was equally important and he was struggling to reconcile the two imperatives.&nbsp; He had to protect his career and yet he was desperate to find a way with which he could fit Caytrielle into his life.<br><br>And then, inspiration struck: the gate lodge.&nbsp; The words came tumbling out of his mouth in a torrent as he explained to Caytrielle how they could be together and yet not appear to be.&nbsp; The lodge was the solution.&nbsp; In the grounds of his house there was a small lodge, which was currently unoccupied.&nbsp; It would be comfortable lodgings for a research assistant, especially as whoever lived there was given the privilege of taking their meals at the main house.&nbsp; More importantly, however. was the cellar.&nbsp; When the house and lodge were built ninety years earlier, they were built with a connecting cellar.&nbsp; The idea had been for deliveries to be taken at the lodge and left in the cellar, where they would be available to the main house.<br><br>"I only learned of it," Alistair said, "when I looked at the plans after the university granted me this property.&nbsp; I don't know when the connection between the house and the lodge fell into disuse, but nobody knows of it aside from us."&nbsp; He couldn't remember bringing her down to the cellar, but here they were.&nbsp; They were surrounded by piles of odd objects and the walls were lined with books.&nbsp; There were a number of doors: one led to the coal cellar, one to the wine cellar and one to a large laundry room.&nbsp; He pulled on one of the bookcases and led her up the stairwell that was behind it.&nbsp; Opening a door, they found themselves in a small closet which opened out into a comfortable bedroom.<br><br>"And here is the lodge,"&nbsp; Alistair announced.&nbsp; "I would say that your staying here would satisfy propriety's demands and of course, there's no reason at all how you couldn't cometo me wheneve you like."&nbsp; He looked at her hopefully.&nbsp; "What do you think?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>03-01-2010, 08:23:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Caytrielle stepped past Alistair, exiting the closet.&nbsp; The bedroom that she entered was pretty and feminine, what she supposed every woman would appreciate.&nbsp; It wasn't to her taste though, but as she looked around she supposed it was something she could fix.&nbsp; With a chuckle she decided she'd take a more traditional route to decorate her new quarters and leave the demonic tricks aside.&nbsp; The chill of the unused room made her shiver though so a fire was in order and in seconds flames roared up the chimney and warmth began to spread through the room.<br><br>"It's very convenient, Alistair," Caytrielle said.&nbsp; &nbsp;"It was always very convenient.&nbsp; In times past I'm sure the gentlemen of the house enjoyed the benefits of having such accessible premises for their 'friends.'&nbsp; One of the ladies took advantage of the lodge for a companion, too."&nbsp; She looked over at Alistair and smiled at his confusion.&nbsp; "Do you think that we're the first to have such an arrangement, Alistair?"&nbsp; Laughing lightly as the expression on his face cleared and understanding dawned Caytrielle strolled over to the bed that dominated the room.&nbsp; She wrapped her fingers around one of the tall posts, feeling the smooth lacquer of the finish, then dragged them through the fringe on the edge of the canopy watching it sway as it slipped over her palm.&nbsp; The comforter was soft and smooth, the silk beneath her hand rich and sensuous.&nbsp; The mattress proved to be quite firm as she sat on the edge and bounced a little to test it. <br><br>"I think I'll be very comfortable here, Alistair," she said.&nbsp; Caytrielle held out her hand to him, beckoning with her fingers.&nbsp; He hesitated and she fought the urge to influence his decision.&nbsp; She wanted him to come to her on his own so she damped down the instinctive need to use her powers on him. <br><br>"Come, Alistair.&nbsp; See how the bed feels."&nbsp; Caytrielle lowered her hand to smooth it again over the comforter and looked into his eyes.&nbsp; Was it hunger she saw there or desire?&nbsp; Was there indecision?&nbsp; She wanted him suddenly as she had never wanted a human and she was afraid that without her powers he'd be able to turn away from her.&nbsp; It was a chance she was willing to take, one that she told herself she needed to take if she was to be honest with him as he wished.&nbsp; So she waited for him to decide.&nbsp; She waited with an expectant smile on parted lips, heaving breasts straining at the bodice of her gown, shining eyes that unconsciously showed her feelings and firelight glowing in the flowing waves of her hair as they cascaded over her shoulders.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>06-01-2010, 20:37:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Unlike Caytrielle, Alistair was composed of mere flesh and blood.&nbsp; Whether she used any eldritch ability or not probably had no effect on what happened.&nbsp; The grace of her movements and the way that her fingers stroked up and down on the bedpost was suggestive enough to combine with her insinuations about how the lodge had been used in the past to set the train of his thoughts in motion.&nbsp; The way that the firelight cast brazen highlights in her hair and the way that she bounced, both on the bed and within her bodice, only stoked the fires of that locomotive's engine.<br><br>Yet it was the tacit, almost plaintive, appeal in he eyes that caused him to hasten to her side.&nbsp; It was obvious that she wanted- needed- him to want her.&nbsp; The sentimental sense of chivalry that was the hallmark of a gentleman would not have allowed him to reject her even had she not been in every respect the woman of his dreams.<br><br>He stepped forwards and reached out, almost tentatively, to caress her cheek as he sank onto the bed beside her.&nbsp; His fingers slid past her ear and into her glorious hair and he pulled her lips to his and he kissed her.&nbsp; Yes, she wanted him to want her and he did, truly and without reservation.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>15-01-2010, 09:23:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Caytrielle’s heartbeat quickened with each step Alistair took toward her until it was beating quite fast by the time he reached her side.&nbsp; This was a new experience for the demoness, having a human, a man, want <em>her</em> and not simply the fulfillment of his lust-filled fantasies.&nbsp; She closed her eyes for a moment as he sat down facing her but opened them immediately she felt the soft brush of fingers on her face.&nbsp; Soft brown eyes stared into clear blue ones as strong fingers threaded into the chestnut waves that framed her face.<br><br>Slender fingers tipped with delicate nails curled against the super fine fabric of his coat as he pulled her toward him with that hand in her hair until their lips met, his firm and warm against her mouth and hers soft and pliant, molding themselves to him.&nbsp; It was for Caytrielle a moment out of time, a single instant that marked a change for her though she didn’t know it then.&nbsp; The kiss that she gave Alistair was meant to please him, to prove to him that without her demonic powers she was a woman who could fulfill their dreams of passion and desire.&nbsp; <br><br>This kiss, their touches, their yearnings and needs were elevated above the carnal urges that were all she had known until this moment.&nbsp; An unfamiliar sensation swept through the human form the demoness inhabited and she felt the need to do more than kiss or touch Alistair.&nbsp; <br><br>A hunger to hold him in her arms, to draw him toward her overcame her, yet she fought it with the same strength she used to beat down the instinctive use of her powers to influence his reaction to her.&nbsp; This time, she told herself, this one time she needed the human, the man, Alistair to take control and treat her like a woman.&nbsp; Caytrielle knew she wasn’t human but she wanted to be for Alistair even if it was just this once.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>18-01-2010, 01:22:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Alistair deepened the kiss, his tongue probing Cayrielle's mouth eagerly.&nbsp; His fingers tangled in her hair as their tongues entwined and he pushed her back onto the bed.&nbsp; His body rubbed urgently against hers and, as he broke the kiss to breathe, he found he was panting. This was different to the night before but no less compelling.&nbsp; There was a vulnerability to her that she had lacked before and yet that vulnerability was as devastating to his self control as her inhuman allure had been.<br><br>He rolled onto his side and rested on his elbow, looking into her eyes.&nbsp; His lips curled into an unreadable smile and he lifted his hand to gently caress away a stray lock of hair from her face.&nbsp; He fought to control his breathing and leaned in to kiss her once more, his lips just brushing hers before they grazed her cheek in a line of delicate nibbling kisses to the sensitive skin just in front of her ear.&nbsp; His voice was breathy, almost a whisper as he spoke.<br><br>"Caytrielle," he said, ignoring the tiny corner of his mind noting the incongruity of what he was saying given what Caytrielle actually was, "I don't want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable but..." He swallowed nervously, hoping against hope that she would realise what the rest of the sentence was and that her answer would be yes.&nbsp; He was acutely aware of every single point where their bodies were pressed together and he was finding it hard to keep his desire for her under control.&nbsp; But the sense of chivalry she had inspired in him would not let him just act, not without asking first, at any rate.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>11-02-2010, 12:37:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“but…”<br><br>Caytrielle was stunned.&nbsp; She had thought Alistair was rejecting her when he was, in fact, doing something completely unexpected.&nbsp; He was asking her permission!&nbsp; Never in her history had that been a consideration.&nbsp; Her eyes went to Alistair’s face, studying his expression, the look of hope in his eyes.&nbsp; Every inch of her ached to throw herself at him.&nbsp; She wanted more of his touch, more of the soft caress of fingers that had brushed the wave of hair from her forehead, more of the tender kisses he had trailed along her jaw before he grazed his lips across hers.&nbsp; No man had ever touched her the way he had and no man had ever lain with her, their bodies touching, while he simply looked at her.&nbsp; And no man had ever before considered her wishes before using her body for the purpose for which she had been created.<br><br>Slowly the woman, for that was how she felt, turned on her side to face Alistair, brown eyes looking deeply into blue, and laid her hands upon his chest sliding them beneath the lapels of his coat.&nbsp; The rapid beating of his heart and the shallow and quick rise and fall of his chest told her more than words that he was aroused and wanting her and all she needed was to nod her agreement and he would take her any way she wanted.&nbsp; Oh, how she wanted to shout her answer to him and beg him to make love to her.&nbsp; She was so eager for that coupling, the joining of their bodies, and yet she hesitated.&nbsp; There was something in this moment that made her feel so different, not demon-spawn but almost human.&nbsp; Yes, that was what it was.&nbsp; He made her feel human because that was how he was treating her.&nbsp; He was giving her a choice.&nbsp; Oh, how wonderful this moment was and she hoped he didn’t mind that she was drawing it out to savor it for just a little while.<br><br>“Alistair, you have done nothing that is wrong or that would give me pause.&nbsp; I am here because you summoned me and I am yours to command.&nbsp; I stopped you from sending me back because I didn’t want to go and I am still yours to command.”&nbsp; Caytrielle’s hands smoothed over Alistair’s chest as she spoke, feeling the fine weave of his shirt and the contours of his chest.&nbsp; Her eyes never left his as her fingers moved upward toward his shoulders and the base of his neck.<br><br>“I’m not uncomfortable with you, Alistair.&nbsp; I want the same as you.&nbsp; I want to be in your arms and held against your body, to be treated as a woman who is desired by a man.&nbsp; I need you to desire me of you own free will.”&nbsp; Caytrielle couldn’t wait another moment and leaned forward to press her lips against his and to cup the nape of his neck in one hand as her lips parted for him and her kiss deepened and the heart she never realized she had began to drum against her ribs.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>20-02-2010, 13:18:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Alistair hardly heard her words.&nbsp; They registered in his brain but all he really heard was that she wanted him too.&nbsp; All of her speech about being treated as a real woman, about him using his free will was lost in the thunder of his pulse in his ears and he did the one thing that made sense to him: he cut short her speech with a passionate kiss.&nbsp; Of course he wanted her, why would he not?&nbsp; She was beautiful, intelligent and she wanted him. <br><br>He deepened the kiss as he began to peel away her clothes with trembling fingers.&nbsp; As he unbuttoned her blouse, his lips finally left hers and he began to shower the exposed skin with tiny kisses, as soft and light as the caress of a butterfly's wing.&nbsp; Softly, wonderingly, his hands caressed her curves and where they peeled away the fabric of her clothes, his lips followed to cover her with a blanket of nibbling kisses, paying particular attention to where the confines of her clothing had left little indentations on her skin.<br><br>Eventually, Caytrielle lay on the bed with her upper body completely exposed.&nbsp; Alistair lay beside her, trailing his fingers all over her soft skin with his finger tips.&nbsp; He leaned over and pressed his lips to her breastbone in a long soft kiss.&nbsp; He looked up into her eyes and chuckled.<br><br>"Aren't things a little one sided, with me all fully dressed?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>12-03-2010, 05:13:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Caytrielle's fingers traced the line where his hair began then flowed over the countours of Alistair's face.&nbsp; She found the corners of his mouth while he was kissing her and ran the pads of her thumbs over the ends of his lips.&nbsp; When his mouth left hers and journeyed down the line of her jaw to the sensitive nerves of her neck and the tender skin of her throat she slid her fingers through his hair, combing the thick waves and rubbing her fingertips against his scalp. <br>&nbsp;<br>Instinctively, her hands tightened, cupping his head and with her eyes closed she gave herself over to the touch of his mouth and fingers, the feeling so much like feathers falling on her skin.&nbsp; She had no idea how much time passed as they occupied themselves in such play.&nbsp; She didn't really care.&nbsp; Therefore, she was startled when, after pressing his warm and supple lips between her breasts, his laughter and his voice broke into the trance she had woven around them.<br>&nbsp;<br>Caytrielle followed the look in Alistair's eyes and nearly blushed at her state of undress.&nbsp; She glanced back up at him and met his eyes, a touch of shyness in hers that dissolved quickly enough in the face of his amusement.&nbsp; She responded with a wicked grin and moved her hands to the front of his shirt.<br>&nbsp;<br>"Indeed, sir.&nbsp; There is balance to be restored to this situation," she replied and employed nimble fingers to buttons and garments, imitating her human lover in pressing delicate kisses to his neck and shoulders as he was divested of coat and shirt.<br>&nbsp;<br>Hands that trembled slightly moved over his chest, drawing patterns on the contours of his muscles and sliding along the ridges of his ribcage, wanting to make him shiver the way his touch had done with her.<br>&nbsp;<br>"I believe we are on a more even footing now, my..." a hesitant pause and an embarrassed smile at the near utterance of an endearment was followed quickly by her voice whispering his name, "...Alistair."&nbsp; She had brought her mouth to within a hair's breadth of his and the declaration of his name was a soft sigh that flowed over his lips.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>21-03-2010, 00:02:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A soft sigh, that is, which was swiftly cut off by the passionate kiss that Alistair pressed to her lips.&nbsp; As much as he had wanted her before, Alistair wanted Caytrielle more now.&nbsp; Indeed, the need to press his skin against hers was overpowering.&nbsp; His tongue pressed into her mouth to twine sinuously around hers and his fingers raked down her sides to her hips.&nbsp; Breaking the kiss,&nbsp; he pushed her back, his hands lifting her hips, to ease her back and more fully onto the bed.<br><br>He crawled over her, rubbing his skin eagerly against hers.&nbsp; He slipped his leg between her knees and eased them apart.&nbsp; Somehow, despite everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours, this felt...&nbsp; It felt as if their previous couplings had not occurred.&nbsp; Hesitantly, almost nervously, he slid between her thighs and he leaned forwards to kiss her once more.&nbsp; It was with this kiss that his hesitance ended and he pushed his hips forwards, trembling with urgent need.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>04-04-2010, 05:10:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Her whisper was cut off by his kiss, a kiss that engaged all her senses and beyond that gave her the knowledge that he wanted her.&nbsp; His need was evident in the way he kissed her, luring her tongue to dance with his and drink of the sweetness of his mouth as his fingers dragged down her body exciting her nerve endings until she thought she would scream from the sheer pleasure he gave her.<br><br>Caytrielle responded to his hands that laid her prone on the bed, the silk a soft caress on her back, his body, his warm flesh a much more tactile embrace of her form.&nbsp; Her body yearned for his and she arched breast and belly into him.&nbsp; Her arms reached around him so that she could lay her hands against his back and smooth them from shoulders down to hips in long, slow caresses that made her fingers tingle.&nbsp; She felt him hesitate for the merest moment, then invited his pleasure between her parted legs as her hands move lower on his body.&nbsp; <br><br>Alistair's face above hers became the only thing she saw, the look in his eyes mesmerizing her and the bow of his slightly parted lips moving down toward hers.&nbsp; Their lips met and something shifted within her.&nbsp; At that moment she became his and his alone and her sole purpose became giving him pleasure instead of taking what he offered.&nbsp; Her body move toward his to make the moment of their joining a mutual fulfillment, more than just the taking of a body.<br><br>"Alistir, Alistair," she whispered once again, "make love to me Alistair.&nbsp; Make me feel the things a woman is supposed to feel."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>22-06-2010, 22:41:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				And that is exactly what Alistair did.<br><br>It was hard for him, afterwards, to remember all of the details.&nbsp; There was none of the supernatural glamour clouding his senses, this time, as he gently slipped into her and began to slowly pump his hips back and forth.&nbsp; All he really could remember was a blend of sensations: the softness of her skin, the scent of her hair, the taste of her lips and the swelling warmth that grew within his chest as their love making increased in pace.<br><br>After the explosion, that warmth did dot abate, as he rolled onto his side and enfolded her tenderly into his arms.&nbsp; Indeed, it only intensified and slowly changed into a deep, yet soft, ache.&nbsp; He sighed softly and kissed her forehead, right in the centre of the hairline and held her protectively. It was a stupid impulse, he knew, for should any danger approach, she would be more able to deal with it than he and yet he felt incredibly protective of her.<br><br>Stroking her hair, his lips curled into a soft and somewhat stupid smile and he asked the only question that was really apposite.<br><br>"So, where do we go from here?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Damnedest of Things [Beguile's Mistress &amp; Neroon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beguile's Mistress</strong> on <strong>10-09-2010, 06:12:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				”Where do we go from here?”<br><br>Those words held so much meaning for Caytrielle.&nbsp; First and foremost, they meant he wanted to go on.&nbsp; He wanted to continue.&nbsp; Something blossomed in that spot where a woman’s heart would be and for a moment the pain was unbearable.&nbsp; When it subsided it left an ache behind that the demoness didn’t understand.<br><br>“Alistair, if you do want me to stay I will for as long as you want me.”&nbsp; She turned in his arms and pressed her lips to his.&nbsp; It was a gesture she made to reassure them both before she settled back into his embrace with her head on his chest.<br><br>“I could assist you with your work.&nbsp; We could do that openly.&nbsp; My credentials, the curriculum vitae that I gave you, would a be proven out if investigated.&nbsp; Besides, there isn’t anything in there that I can’t do or haven’t done.” <br><br>A thought occurred to her at that moment and she wondered, with a frown, why it hadn’t been the first thought on her mind.&nbsp; Temptation was second nature, no first nature to Caytrielle.&nbsp; Why had it taken even these few moments to think to employ it?&nbsp; She could give Alastair anything, everything, and that’s what she would do.<br><br>“What is the one thing you want in your profession that will make you the happiest?&nbsp; What would bring you the most fulfillment?”
			</dd>
		</dl>
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