Mistress of Souls, page 1
Mistress of Souls
By CM Hutton
Trigger Warnings
This is a dark romance, some of the material may be triggering for you. Please refer to the end of the book if you would like to view the complete list of trigger warnings before continuing.
However, if you thrive in the dark like me, venture on unaware and enjoy the ride. Don’t be surprised if you hear Mariax whispering commands in your ear or her tail gripping your throat.
PRONUNCIATIONS
Inferuna: In-fer-oo-na
Mariax: Mar-ee-ax
Primeval: Prime-ville
GLOSSARY
Inferuna: A version of what humans call “Hell”.
Vancate: To travel through space and time. Disappear and reappear somewhere else.
SCOTTISH DIALECT GLOSSARY
Aye: Yes
Bairn: Child/kid
Cannae- Cannot
Cheetie: Cat or kitten
Chugging: Jerking off
Dinnae- Did not
Neep head: Turnip head
Oorlich: Damp, chilly and utterly unpleasant.
Sae- So
Stramash: Disturbance, racket
Verra- Very
Wee: Little
Willnae- Will not
Ye: You
Yer: You are or your
Contents
Trigger Warnings
PRONUNCIATIONS
GLOSSARY
Copyright
Playlist
Dedication
Dedication II
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Note from the author
Trigger Warnings
Acknowledgements
Social media
Copyright
Copyright © 2023 by CM Hutton
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Character Art by: Ellie @mageonduty
Cover Design by: Rebecca L. Garcia
Playlist
This is the massive playlist I listened to while writing and editing Mistress of Souls. I suggest you put it on shuffle to fully embrace the entire vibe and my eclectic music tastes.
Dedication
For everyone who suffers from childhood trauma and now likes hand necklaces—this one’s for you.
Dedication II
To Kamber McKnight, thank you for backing my highest tier in my first ever Kickstarter Campaign! You brought the biggest smile to my face when I saw that someone believed in me enough to pledge the highest tier possible.
Prologue
The Primeval
I hiss through clenched teeth, suppressing a groan as moist heat slips down my cock. Once again, I’ve been forced to release my body’s constant ache since she left me.
I fist the immortal male’s red hair, his scalp pulling with the ferocity of my grip. Shoving him down, my tip slips into his throat. Small jolts of pleasure radiate through my balls, but it’s not truly satisfying.
To feel something right now other than physical release is beyond me. I just can’t muster an emotional response.
I loosen my fingers, releasing his strands. With any luck, he understands now he is giving a pitiful blowjob.
The male continues to bob along my length. In a daze, I watch his horns move, curling my hands into fists at my side. Every time I see horns, I think of her. The leather of the couch gives as I settle back to try to enjoy this subpar blowjob.
At one time, I wished to feel nothing—to rid myself of the emotions building deep in the blackest part of my soul. But now… now I want them to return.
She ruined me.
When she left, more than half of me had left with her, leaving a gaping, festering wound in its place. At least I have my pain. Pain is always there, surrounding my very essence.
The agony I’m in now, however, after tasting feelings again, is a million times worse. I always knew I didn’t want to give in to sharing my soul with another, to open myself up to emotions. I have lived for eons, and I still ignored the screaming inside my mind as my rational thoughts disintegrated. Emotions are dangerous, even for those who know of their capability for destruction.
I allowed another a permanent spot in my life.
My little one will never know why I committed those dark deeds she holds against me. I never got a chance to explain, a chance to tell her what went wrong. I never betrayed her, yet it is cemented in her mind that I did. She feels the certainty in her bones…in her blood. What I did was unforgivable, irredeemable in her eyes.
That day was the last time I ever saw her. It replays in my mind constantly.
I pick up my glass from the end table on my left and swirl the amber liquid around, sending the notes just under my nose before I take a large sip. I hold the glass with my fingertips and rest my head back on the couch, trying my best to enjoy the sensation of another pleasuring me, worshiping this glorious body, but I’m still lost.
I am everything all-powerful. The beginning and the end.
Yet I have been brought down by a simple four-letter word. How did I let this happen to myself? Bitterness churns in my gut, creating a burn that creeps up my throat. I feel ill even as the male between my legs continues to suck on my dick.
“Deeper,” I command.
He attempts to oblige, but I am far too large for his pathetic mouth without assistance. My dick is barely tapping the back of his throat. He wraps a hand around my base, his lips meeting the fist he has wrapped around me.
My anger explodes at his lackluster efforts. My magic swirls deep within me. My shadows manifesting around him and rip his hand away from my dick. Another shadow collects his other wrist before I wrench them both behind his back, causing his back to arch.
I take his sliver of control away from him entirely, grab his horns, and thrust my cock deep into the back of his throat. Shadows bind him, further keeping him immobile. My abs tighten and release as I thrust, the small hole of his throat forced wider and gripping me as I pump harder. Gagging echoes around my living space.
Many emotions tear through my heart. Just the thought of her brings resentment, love, hatred, anger, happiness, misery, desire…
Pushing her from my mind, I fuck the male’s face faster and harder until my pubic bone is slamming against his nose. I look down to watch myself move in and out of his drooling lips, I know the outline of my cock head moving in his throat is visible. He tries to break free from the shadows binding his wrists, so I tighten them.
He is probably running out of air. I don’t care when I feel an orgasm rising to the surface, but it’s just out of reach.
I tighten my shadows around him, bringing another up to encircle his throat. My dick grazes my shadow from the inside as the skin on his neck stretches. Parting my lips, I groan loudly, while gagging continues to issue from the male.
My erection throbs with anticipation. I’m reaching for that sliver of feeling, that tiny bit of desire I’m chasing.
But it’s never the same, no matter how many times I use someone.
No matter how many times I pleasure myself imagining her curves and thick thighs…It’s. Never. The. Same. I need her. Without her, pleasure is meaningless. I don’t know if I want to throttle her or worship her. All I know is that one day, I will have my hands wrapped around her throat again. I’ll be fucking her so deeply that she will never forget our reunion.
She is mine. She agreed. Whether it was eons ago or mere days, she made a vow. I intend to show her who she belongs to. Remind her who her Daddy is. She can try to run, but I love the hunt.
I moan and arch my back as desperate tingles of pleasure ripple through my body. Thoughts of her collared and gasping as I fuck her breasts throw me into oblivion. My balls tighten as my pleasure releases. I come hard into the male’s throat as I hold him on my cock, pulsing down his throat. I keep him there as I force him to swallow every drop.
When I let go of his horns, he pulls off of me, leaving a string of spit connecting us. I smack him in the cheek with my dick leaving an imprint in cum and
He gasps in a deep breath, sitting back on his heels as the sting registers, and rests his hands on my knees. He’s mistaken if he thinks I’m going to get him off now. I don’t give a shit about his pleasure. I used him. That’s all this was. I had a tiny moment of bliss, just enough to hold on to my sanity.
I raise my knee and push my bare foot against his chest, knocking him on his back. “Get out,” I growl menacingly.
His glare turns haughty, and he looks like he is going to argue with me.
I come down on top of him and grab his throat in a bruising grip. Pure rage seeps from my pores, and my unstable mind allows too much power to seep into him.
“I said, get the fuck out.”
His eyes widen in horror as he realizes he just sucked a more fearsome monster’s dick than he will ever be.
I release him, and he scrambles back before bolting up and sprinting out the door. A sinister smile graces my face as I continue to stare at the space in front of me.
With a sigh, I stand and make my way back to the couch. I sit, feeling the smooth leather caress my bare skin.
The empty feeling returns almost immediately.
I backhand my glass off of the end table into the far wall, and sparkles of fine glass fill the air where it shatters. The dregs of my whisky slowly drip down the wall.
For a moment, my heart rate stammers. Blood glistens on the wall. Crimson streaks trail downward, creating a puddle on the floor. Screams fill my ears. I close my eyes as tightly as I can and then open them to stare at the same spot on the wall.
Whisky. It’s just whisky.
I grab the bottle next to me by the neck since my glass is now gone, place my lips around the opening, and take several long pulls. I force myself to take deep lungfuls of air.
Another moment, another day, and the vicious cycle continues.
When I see her again, when I touch that gorgeous body and wrap her tail around my wrist, maybe I’ll be whole again.
I had no choice but to stage the event she hates me for. It has become the catalyst for my life to dive into this constant downward spiral. Night after night, I sit in this opulent space, glass in hand, staring into the void that is my life.
Inferuna is not known for its entertainment, and I’ve lived here for a millennia.
Monsters of any and all breeds are found drinking, screwing, or buying a variety of rare illegal human items that can be found on the black market. For me, I end up watching reruns of Friends on an endless loop. I’ve even attempted to read the massive pile of books left forgotten on her nightstand…but the empty void inside me shudders at the thought of enjoying something that brought her pleasure.
Does she suffer the same way I do? Does she struggle with the constant agony, reliving every moment? Not the good times a pair of lovers have, but the gruesome, violent memories.
I fell for her while learning the art of torture, but it came at a heftier cost than even the art we were taught called for. Sanity. The mind-bending it took for us to accept madness burned all traits of whoever we were before out of us. Our personalities changed, reaching into the darker depths of ourselves.
I will never be the same again.
And all because I allowed myself to feel.
My life before her had been stagnant. I floated through eternity, not in time or space. Had no true physical form. I just existed. I was the villain, the unknown force. I was what my soul desired. Some realms I discovered had crumbling societies and weak systems of power. I took it upon myself to crumble them faster, destroying their worlds entirely.
There is no reason to leave a world slowly rotting when you can speed up the process and decimate the entirety of it. Put it out of its misery.
There have been other realms, on other planes, that have intricate systems of power in place, but they could have actually used my help. And at those times, I played the hero. Many times, they wanted me to be their god, their king, their master. I always declined their requests, uninterested in that sort of life. Being set down in one place, in one realm, on one plane is not something I’ve ever desired. Until her.
I don’t know when I’ll see my Angel again. But I will see her one more time. I cannot remain this close to her, separated by mere realms, without her being in my arms.
Daddy doesn’t share. She. Is. Mine.
Chapter 1
Mariax
Blood pools on the cement floor. The crimson liquid drips from the metal table above, adding to the widening puddle. The heels of my thigh-high black leather stiletto boots echo around the small space with my movements.
A crack ripples through the air when I use my tail to whip the male fae bound to my table. I trail my gaze along his body, assessing my work. His upper thighs, ass, and broad back glow with crisscrossing red stripes. Welts rise among the webs. The ball gag shoved into his mouth and secured behind his head mutes his moans and screams.
As I listen to his muffled pleading, I mentally recoil. Memories echo in my skull, burrowing from the places I keep the most painful ones locked away before I can stop them. I grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut. I have plenty of material to inspire me to finish this session. After spending over two thousand years in Inferuna, I don’t need my own trauma to do that.
Inferuna… that is the true name of the place humans think of as hell.
I was created there and bred to become one of the best torture demons that has ever existed. There, my drive for torture was not out of joy like many before and after me, but to complete my time served and getting the fuck out. I’m not like the other demons that manifest from the creation fires…I never was. I don’t know why, though, but something different happened when I was made.
I place my hand on the globe of his ass and move it in a light caress, debating if he’s had enough yet.
Gripping my tail in one hand, I swing it in lazy circles as I stalk around my client. My tail, used for bringing pleasure and pain, is capable of shapeshifting into anything I desire, and it has been one of the most useful tools in my trade. Today, it resembles the humans’ ‘classic’ version of a demon tail, long and thin with a spade-like point at the tip.
His wounds are healing, but slower than they would normally. Aurelia, a witch friend from New York, made me a spelled ointment. When the ointment is applied to flesh, it slows the quick healing ability of most supernaturals, making their sessions into what they need or want.
There are many reasons I am the best fem domme, known best for inflicting equal parts pleasure and pain. However, if I’m caught in a particularly manic mood, the delivery of pain can get a tad messy.
The trauma I endured while in torture training and beyond has ruined parts of me I will never get back, and a large portion of that trauma is from the toxic relationship with Him. I trusted him beyond reason, throwing myself into his offer of mind-numbing safety without a backward glance…until he betrayed my trust. In reality, I should have known better. In fact, I did know better, but the pull of his dangerous energy and indescribable dark power was too much.
He carved a hole for himself within me, a space that will forever be void. I fled Inferuna because of him. His actions had caused me to react impulsively. I should have stayed to confront him, but the danger was too great.
A flutter of movement catches my eye.
The fae’s left hand is curling into a fist and releasing repeatedly. Acknowledging the sign that he needs to speak, I yank the ball gag out and bend at the waist to meet his gaze. His face is pressed against the cold metal table, flecks of blood color his pale face. His long black hair is in knots and shoved over the opposite side of the table, out of my way.
Once I get to his level, his eyes zero in on my chest, strapped tightly into a midnight-purple corset. I sigh internally. He’s one client who consistently loses focus. I have to punish him often—though punishing a client is one of the more entertaining parts of my job.
