Free Chained in the Demon's Lair (Hellfire Circus) by Crystal De la Cruz Page A

conjure up, even in the modern age.
    She froze as the c owboy began to speak.
    “Cassandra, you little shit! Where are you
hiding?”
    His voice was a cool, Southern drawl,
always flowing just at its own pace, and in everything he said it
was impossible to tell whether he was joking or not.
    “I’m here,” Cassandra returned from somewhere
out of Julie’s line of sight. “And I wasn’t hiding, I was just
trying to fix up a few of these fallen desks. This place is a
pigsty.”
    The cowboy chuckled. “Well that’d be fine
and well if I’d told you to darlin, but since I didn’t you’re in
danger of simply getting on my nerves. And you know what happens
when people get on my nerves?”
    “No sir,” Cassandra replied, a faint tremble
in her voice.
    “Oh,” the cowboy grinned, and for a second
Julie caught a dolorous glimpse of a silver twinkle in his eye,
like a cold star at the outer-limits of a godless universe. “All
sorts of things…”
    He stepped towards the sound of
Cassandra’s voice, walking in a slow cowboy strut. “C’mere,” he
said, “Soon enough our friend Samuel will arrive and I’ll have to
go out and make him dance for me. (and don’t worry sugar, I’ll make
sure he knows exactly what you did to him) but first, I want to
blow off some steam. Get over here and let me fuck you girl. You
know how good I can make you feel.”
    Julie clasped a hand over her mouth as she
repressed a silent gasp. She watched as Cassandra walked in
resignation slowly towards the center of the room, where the amused
cowboy waited in the middle of all those fancy computers, a wicked
smile on his handsome jaw being the only thing that showed beneath
the brim of his ancient Stetson hat. Beneath his dusty black jeans,
Julie could see the shape of a bulging cock press out against the
confines of the denim. The cowboy might not have been human, but he
certainly had all the constituent parts.
     
    ***
     
    Julie inched closer to the air vent, the
flesh of her bare legs brushing against the smooth cool metal
beneath her, as she watched Cassandra come silently to the cowboy’s
fore and obey his unspoken command to kneel. Despite her
catastrophic circumstances (or perhaps because of them, Julie did glean a distinctive pleasure
from bondage and steel after all), she felt that comfortable and
familiar sexual heat fill her loins. She peered down into the
control room below in open-mouthed wonder.
    “That’s it,” the cowboy smiled, “there’s a
good girl.” He lifted his hand to Cassandra’s soft scalp and
stroked her hair with the loving condescension one might reserve
for a favorite pet. With his other hand, he unbuckled the belt
fastening his jeans and slowly unsheathed his throbbing member.
    Julie couldn’t help but savor the sight of
it. Even from up here, his thing was obviously massive. The head
was shiny and filled with the blood of powerful, virile
masculinity. As he guided it to Cassandra’s mouth, Julie ran a
finger down along the crevice of her breasts and against the tight
material of her bra. Beneath, her nipples were rigid and standing
to full attention.
    She watched as Cassandra’s head bobbed down
over the cowboy’s cock, the plunging sound of his thing as it
pushed deeper into her wet mouth carrying all the way up to Julie’s
cell.
    “ But you’re not a good girl, are you?” the
cowboy asked, pressing her head deeper against the root of his
dick. “You certainly don’t suck like one anyway. And you don’t act
like one neither. Betraying your friends, the one guy on earth who
ever truly believed in you…”
    Cassandra tried to lift her head back to take
a breath but the cowboy held her firmly in place.
    “ No,” he sighed, “you’re a bad girl, a bad
person. A killer .”
    Cassandra began to squirm against his grip as
she struggled to catch a breath. The cowboy merely chuckled as he
held her.
    “Yes indeed, you’re irredeemable.” He pushed
her head deeper over him one last time as