Carry me Away

-Maria-

I was rudely jostled awake ... by the bed?

I scrambled about disoriented. I made to sit up. Several muscles screamed in protest ... I was so sore.

I settled for opening my eyes.

I was lying flat on a hard wooden surface, looking up at a wooden ceiling that was much closer than it should be.

This time I really did pull myself up, ignoring my groaning body parts.

I looked around. I was in a carriage. My sleeping body had been unceremoniously draped across the wooden bench meant for passengers. Occupying the bench across from me was the demon.

He was once again adored in the clothes of a nobleman. He was wearing a pitch black coat, with a gray vest, black collared shirt and a white cravat.

He looked stunning; at least, the parts of him I could see looked good. His face was hidden by a black top hat, which he had pulled down to cover his eyes. His arms were crossed and he was leaning against the carriage wall.

It occurred to me to check my own state of dress.

Apparently while I was asleep I had played quite the dress up doll.

My hair was no longer done in curls; instead it was straight, and brushed out glossy. I also realized I was sitting on some of it.

It hurt.

When my hair was in ringlets it came down to the small of my back, now straight, it seemed to reach down to my butt.

I didn't remember my hair being anywhere close to this long before my awakening. It wasn't fashionable to have long hair in Paris at the moment ... I wondered if HE had anything to do with that.

Forgetting my hair I explored the rest of my attire.

It was even better than the silk dress. This dress was blood red with black hemming and frills. It extended to just above my feet. In this dress there was also a built in corset, which served to push up my modest breasts, and make them seem bigger.

I didn't need a looking glass to know that I was beautiful in this dress. Apparently the demon didn't like under dressed companions.

The carriage jostled again, reminding me to wonder why I wasn't asleep in bed, recovering from a night of extremely pleasurable abuse.

"Mr. Demon," I said, prodding his leg with my barefoot. "Mr. Demon, wake up."

"Devnik," he replied sleepily.

"What?"

"Devnik," he repeated, "my name is Devnik," he said, his voice muffled by his hat.

It took me a moment to realize that this was the first time he had told me his name. Even as a prostitute my standards were high enough to get the man's name before I slept with him.

I shook my head.

That was not your fault. You were magically forced to want to have sex with him ... and beg him for sex ... and enjoy sex with him ... and ... let him 'use' you how he saw fit ... oh dear.

I could feel myself becoming aroused again.

Devnik raised his hat revealing his crimson eyes.

"I wouldn't become too hot and heavy little half breed," he said. "It would be awfully embarrassing to walk by the servants panting and flushed would it?"

I blushed, and tried to keep a hold of my feelings ... especially the ones about what he DID to me last night...

Wait ... did he say ... servants?

I locked my gaze on him, and remembered that I was angry at him.

"Where are we going," I demanded.

He just looked at me, amused by my little snit.

I continued, eager to speak my mind.