Marlow's Curse

“Touch me and it will be the last thing you ever do, you bastard,” Sybylla St. Michael hissed threateningly between gritted teeth as she stared her enemy in the eyes. The demon before her grinned with malicious delight at her words and he threw back his head and laughed. His rancid breath polluted the air and his yellow eyes held an evil deadly gleam. Sybylla stared back defiantly willing herself not to flinch at his repulsiveness or choke on the fumes that strangled her senses. There was no way she would show fear to this hideous son of hell.
“Tough talk for a woman who is strung up tight against a wall and is helpless, witch,” Scar pointed out as he ran one long gnarled finger along her jaw toward her mouth. In his other hand he held a wickedly long knife. He hated this woman with a passion for what she had done to him. Making her pay was his one goal in life.
Sybylla opened her mouth wanting that ugly finger to slide inside so she could bite down hard on it and hear the sound of bone crunching as the demon screamed in pain. Even though the taste of him would be disgusting, Sybylla knew she would enjoy biting his finger off and spitting it back into Scar’s revolting face.
“Face it, witch woman, you are trapped and I can do whatever I like to you.” Scar’s fingers trailed down from her mouth to her neck and to her breasts. “You know you are quite fuckable for a witch.” His finger circled one cotton-covered nipple lazily.
“Go fuck yourself!” Sybylla spat out loathing the feel of the creature’s hand on her breast.
Scar just chuckled in amusement at the woman who looked at him with such hatred.
“Such big boobs and long, pretty hair. I wonder what it will feel like to have that hair against my balls when you are on your knees before me sucking my cock.” He ripped down the front of her shirt exposing her white lace bra. His fingers dipped into the deep cleavage groping at her flesh.
Sybylla pulled at the tight rope restraints that held her wrists and ankles fastened to the wall. The rope manacles had cut deeply and painfully into her soft flesh. But that pain and the threat of the knife the demon held was nothing compared to the disgusting feel of his hands on her body. The rough, clammy touch of his clawlike hands made her cringe inwardly. Yet Sybylla willed herself to remain focused on her hatred for him instead of fear. She would rather die first than let Scar know that he frightened her.
Scar sliced through the shoulder straps of her bra with two quick slashes. He smiled lecherously as her large breasts popped out of their restraints. He grabbed one and squeezed hard.
“Very nice,” Scar licked the puckered tissue around his mouth in a slobbering fashion.
“I promise you, Scar, I will kill you for this.” Sybylla winced in pain as he fondled her bare breast with his gnarled hands. The only thing that separated her lower half from his disgusting touch was the flimsy material of her skirt.
“How? Your hands are bound. I know the true power of a St. Michael witch lies in the connection of their mind and their body—restrain you physically and then mentally your power cannot work by itself.” Scar leaned forward and lipped one pink nipple.
“Is this the only way you can get a woman, demon?” His oozing wet tongue lapping at her nipple made Sybylla want to throw up in revulsion. “How sad that you are so grotesque that you have to trap a woman to have sex.” Sybylla was only too aware that his physical appearance enraged the demon deeply. His festering face was a mass of red angry burns that refused to heal and the rotting sores were open and infected. She could only imagine with disgust what his body looked liked. But then it was his own fault that the demon had been burned so badly. Sybylla was just pissed off she had not finished the job properly.
“I can fuck you right now and you can do nothing about it!” Scar was enraged by Sybylla’s words and he yanked her skirt down and watched it fall to her feet leaving her only pale pink panties. He pushed his hand down the front to them and sought roughly for the opening between her legs.
Sybylla pulled wildly at the ropes as his hand jabbed angrily between her legs. Damn him! The demon was right. As a St. Michael witch she could chant a spell but without the use of her hands it was useless. The power of her mind and body could not be channeled to full capacity if one element of her being was bound. Her gift, at times, was also her weakness. She could not even use her power of transformation to morph into an ugly old hag and turn him away in disgust. Sybylla forced herself not to shudder and cringe at the loathsome feel of his fingers as he tried to force them inside her. She knew to show fear would give Scar even more power over her than he had already.
“Despite your brave words you know you cannot take me, Scar.” Sybylla looked knowingly into his sickening yellow eyes. “You know what happens if when a demon like you rapes a St. Michael witch.” She saw a small stab of fear in his ugly eyes. Sybylla would feed on that fear. “If a St. Michael witch is not willing to be taken then the consequences are devastating and irreparable. Are you prepared to have your dick shrivel to the size of a prune and your intestines to knot into an agonizing ball for all eternity?”
“That is just an old legend witch. It does not mean it is true.”
Yes, it was a legend. Maybe true, maybe not. Sybylla St. Michael, descended from a long line of St. Michael witches, was not sure how correct it was, however she was not averse to using any weapon she could to get the demon off her.
“You want to fuck with me but do you want to fuck with a legend that may be more fact than fiction?” Despite the demon’s outward bravado Sybylla could see the sudden fear in his eyes at her words. “Are you brave enough for that, Scar?”