Power's Price (F-demon)
By Mr. Happy
    
     Disclaimer: The Buffyverse and the characters
therein belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, and
possibly any number of other people. Me, I'm just
having a little strictly non-profit fun here.
     Other than that, this story is mine. Mine mine
mine. If you've got some mad urge to repost it, drop me
a line at sc@mindless.com first.
     Had this idea for a while, but it took me a few
years to get off my lazy ass and rewrite it. But as far
as I can recall, nothing happened on the show in those
years to say this couldn't have been what happened
during the fifth season episode "Tough Love" between
when Willow opens the book and when she shows up at
Glory's place.
     ***
     Pure, raw rage had gotten Willow this far. It had
gotten her to the Magic Box, to the book she wasn't
supposed to have been able to open, to the spell she
wasn't supposed to have known about. It got her through
the spell that would keep anyone from paying any
attention to what was about to happen in the alley
behind the shop. (Not to hard; it was Sunnydale, after
all.) It got her through the preparations, the drawing
of the sigils, the removal of her clothes, the
beginning of the chant.
     
     But now, lying spread-eagled and naked in the
chalked pentagram on the filthy alley pavement, a cool
breeze blew over her pale skin and a sliver of rational
thought crept into her mind. She hesitated. This was
dark magic, very dark, unlike any spell she had even
considered before, let alone tried. What she knew of
what was about to happen was bad, very bad, and what
she didn't know was sure to be worse.
     
     But then she thought of Tara. Tara, too far away
and Glory too close. Then Glory was gone and Tara was
still there, with a broken arm and a broken mind. She
thought to the last time she saw Tara, her beautiful
Tara, in the hospital, being led away by the doctor,
babbling mindlessly. Glory did that. Glory. The red
rage came back, and she finished the chant, her voice
rising to a shout. "Adveho, atrum unus! Adveho, addo
mihi virtus! Virtus pro ultionis!"
     
     There was no flash, no fireworks. As abruptly as a
light switch being flicked off, it was on her. It
looked like nothing so much as a nightmare scorpion the
size of a horse, made of pure darkness. The giant,
forked tail she could see over its back whipped about
as no earthly scorpion's could. A single, unblinking
red eye stared her in the face. Other than that, it was
featureless, blacker than night.
     
     She stared into that eye for a long moment,
choking down her fear and steeling her mind for what
was to come. From the creature there no words, no
pronouncements, no questions. Everything that had
needed to be said had been said in the spell that
called it to this world. The bargain had already been
struck; there could be no more choice now.
     
     Knowing this, she fought the instinct to try and
break free, get away. She could tell it would have been
useless to try, anyway. The things that passed for
hands on four of the demon's 12 legs pinned her arms
and legs to the pavement with irresistible strength.
The shadow-flesh on her wrists and ankles felt like
polished stone, cool and hard.
     
     But the creature was not stone. Stone could not
have flowed and squirmed as smoothly as the other ten
legs did, bending and twisting under its body to touch
hers. She flinched as the first one reached to touch
her cheek, and blinked in surprise as the touch proved
to be a gentle caress. Her eyes shot to the side. Close
up, she could see the demon's legs were covered with
fine, wiggling tendrils. They seemed to shift with
every moment, changing length, thickness, and shape in
the blink of an eye. The sensation against her skin was
like nothing she had ever felt before.
     
     Half the legs began stroking her legs, working
their way up, while the others ran down her face and
neck, then lower. As the cool, feathery tendrils
reached her breast, her thighs, she closed her eyes and
tried to think of Tara. She had to. The instructions
for the spell were specific; the magic wouldn't work
unless she came.
     
     She forced her mind's eye to turn to Tara, her
eyes, her face. The feel of her body, the taste of her,
the scent of her arousal. The shy, awkward girl the
world knew vanished in bed. From their very first time
she had thrown herself into lovemaking with enthusiasm,
and that enthusiasm hadn't dimmed even as her skills
grew. With her eyes closed, Willow could almost feel
her lover's tongue tracing its way around her body, the
taste of Tara's juices as her own tongue moved between
her legs.
     
     Lying in darkness, she could almost forget the
feel of alien flesh on her limbs and the rough concrete
on her back, and concentrate on her memories of Tara',
and on the light touch of the dozens of little waving
tendrils slowly, almost languorously stroking her
breasts, her nipples, her inner thighs, her cunt lips.
She began to lose herself in the sensations, feeling
her nipples rise, her juices begin to flow.
     
     The rhythm of the strokes grew faster, became more
urgent, and her body responded, her hips beginning to
sway. Suddenly, two of the creature's legs thrust under
her lower back, and she felt her lower body abruptly
hoisted into the air. The tendrils from the two limbs
just as quickly coiled themselves into a single,
thicker appendage which darted into her pussy and back
out, smearing a generous helping of juices into her ass
crack.
     
     Her eyes shot open, and grew wide. Its tail was
still arched over its back, but it was changing, the
fork in it growing even as she watched. The two tips
were changing too, becoming blunter, more rounded,
twisting to arrange themselves vertically.
     
     She had known this was coming. She had known since
the moment she remembered the spell for summoning this
demon, and realized it was her once chance to gain the
power she needed to make Glory pay. That knowledge
still failed to keep her from emitting a small,
frightened gasp as the demon's tail struck downward
with impossible speed and agility, shot between its
legs and speared into her cunt and ass, both at once.
     
     "AAAAAAAGH!" The next sound out of her was a raw
scream of pure pain. It was so big.never so big.not
Oz.not even when she and Tara had tried.and never in
her.
     
     Then all thoughts left her as the demon pulled
halfway out and stabbed in again, deeper this time.then
in, out, deeper.in, out, deeper.her scream transformed
into a single, high-pitched wail
     
     And each stroke felt a little different. In the
back of her mind, she realized the demon was shifting
its substance around, creating the tightest possible
fit. Those thoughts, though, were pushed out by the
sensations that were running through her body. She
could feel the huge members moving on both sides of the
thin wall between her vagina and anus, filling every
inch of both tunnels.
     
     But there were new sensations as well, creeping up
through the pain. She could feel the tendrils, still
stroking the most sensitive parts of her body. And now,
she could feel the line of knobs the thing had just
raised on its tail. As it pistoned in and out of her,
the knobs rubbed her clit, rubbed against every secret
spot inside of her, shifting and changing to massage
them a little differently each time, a little better,
each one now bringing a little shock of pleasure as it
passed, ever faster.
     
     The orgasm took her by surprise. The cry that came
from her lips almost seemed to be coming from someone
else. She had barely noticed that the creature had
released her legs, and now they flailed about, trying
to lock themselves over the demon's back, almost of
their own accord.
     
     And still the demon kept pumping, still faster.
Its tendrils kept groping, but more insistently now,
tugging at her nipples, her clit. Its tail was in
deeper, deeper than anything had gone before, deeper
than she thought was possible, and with each stroke it
went in a little more. The pain was there, oh yes, but
the pleasure, oh the pleasure, it grew with every
stroke.
     
     "AIEEGAH!" she screamed in pleasure as the second
orgasm took her. Her eyes were wide open now, wide as
saucers, as her head shot back and her back arched,
muscles locking up. Sweat poured from her body,
mingling with the pussy juices that dripped onto the
pavement below her.
     
     And still the creature kept going, pumping every
deeper, ever faster. The tendrils seemed to be
everywhere, whipping over her body with increasing
speed, except for the ones that had wrapped around her
nipples, wrapped around her clit, and were rubbing,
tugging, pulling in all directions at once.
     
     This isn't possible, this isn't physically
possible, was her one thought before the next orgasm
hit her. She had no breath left for a scream, and even
less for the next orgasm, and the next, and the next.
Instead, her body screamed for her as the orgasms
blurred into each other and became one and the pleasure
and pain blurred into each other and became one and the
beast kept going deeper and faster, ever faster. Its
tail was a blur now, but Willow's mind was past
processing what her eyes saw, she was lost in a sea of
ecstasy, and then the beast came.
     
     It came pure black magic, which flooded her cunt
and her ass and every fiber of her mind and body and
soul. It seared her soul and her mind went away and her
body went out of control and her heart may have even
stopped, just for the briefest of moments, as her back
managed the impossible feat if arching even more, her
head slammed back to the pavement, and her mouth opened
in a scream she had no breath for.
     
     At yet a scream came out, a scream like nothing
from this earth. It was a longer and shriller and much,
much louder noise than any human throat should have
been able to make. For blocks around, windows shattered
and car alarms went off. If anyone wondered why, they
certainly didn't say anything. It was Sunnydale, after
all.
     
     In the alleyway, Willow's eyes rolled back in her
head, then closed. Her body collapsed to the pavement,
twitched spasmodically, then lay still and limp beneath
the beast.
     
     The demon withdrew its dripping tail from Willow,
slowly backed away from her unmoving form, and waited.
After a few moments, Willow's eyelids opened. The orbs
behind them were black as night.
     
     She rose to her feet and kept on rising until she
was a foot off the pavement, her arms slightly spread.
She hung there for another long moment, her blank eyes
fixed on nothingness. She was full of power, more power
than she had ever thought possible, and yet at the same
time she felt drained. I did this for a reason, she
thought. What was it?
     
     Then it came back to her. Tara. Glory. Pain that
was, pain that was to be. The rage came flooding back,
and she knew her purpose again.
     
     She looked down on herself, but if she felt any
pain from her abused body, she gave no sign. She gazed
about the alleyway until her eyes fell on her pile of
discarded clothes. With a gesture, the clothes flew to
her. Within seconds, she was dressed, her hair
straightened, her body cleaned, all traces of what had
just happened to her obliterated. Except for the eyes.
     
     She floated to the alley entrance, past the demon
still crouched on the ground. Her eyes stared ahead, as
if still unseeing, but she could sense the power, sense
where she had to go. She turned and floated down the
street, toward the thing that had hurt her love.
     
     Behind her, forgotten, the demon sank back into
the underworld and into its own thoughts. It had done
this so many times, in so many worlds. It knew the
purpose of the one that had called it. It also knew
that the power it had granted the witch was great, but
not great enough to truly challenge a hellgod.
     
     It did not matter. It had placed its brand upon
her. Even if she survived the wrath of the god she
sought to slay, the power would corrupt. It always did.
Either way, soon or late, it would claim her soul, to
ravish throughout eternity.
     
     It looked about the place that was not a place
that it called home, at an eon's collection of bound
female souls, and it thought of the things it would do
to this one, the infinite variety of pleasures it could
take. Had it a mouth, it would have smiled.
     
     The End