Lara smirked, "I see my truth spell has finally worn off."

"Yes," he painfully yanked the lock of hair in his hand, "and now you're going to pay for that trick."

"Do your worst!" she grinned.

"Oh, you're going to regret that," he growled, although they both knew she wouldn't.

The demon reached into the bag and slid out a riding crop made from dragon scale. Caressing her helpless body, he drew the weapon over her curves and up the side of her throat. She let out a soft mew as he traced over her jaw line. "That's right; my little slut is just aching for a beating, isn't she?"

"Ooh, yes, Master."

"That's right. I'm going to beat you...and you're going to like it."

"Will it hurt bad?" Lara pouted with false innocence.

"Excruciatingly." He raised the crop above his high above his head to ensure his slave enjoyed the full effect of this merciless demon towering above her. Then, he struck her ribs with a brutal smack that echoed through the caverns. She arched toward him, her body begging to be whipped and marked. In quick succession, the demon thrashed her never letting her recover between blows. He whipped so swiftly and erratically that Lara never knew where the next smack would land. Within minutes her entire body burned with stinging red lines. As Lara caught her breath, only one word escaped her pleading lips, "More..."

"Whatever you say, sweetie," he climbed up onto the bed and pinned her arms before commanding the mattress tentacles to recede back into the bed. "You are a horny little pain-slut, aren't you?"

"Ohh, yes, Master."

"Yes, Master, what?"

"I'm a horny little pain-slut!"

"Good girl," Devicarth yanked her upright by her collar kissed her deeply. Breaking the kiss, he grinned playfully, "Fight me!"

Lara just looked at him quizzically.

"It's more fun when I conquer you," he explained in a low growl.

Smiling in agreement, Lara pushed the incubus off of her lap and bolted for the doorway. But the much faster demon was on her in a second. He grabbed her around the waist in one of his strong arms and with the other forced her wrists behind her back. Lara struggled and squirmed, not to escape but to revel in the firm strength forcing her into submission.

"You're mine, slut. Surrender to your master!"

"Make me!"

He chuckled, "Oh, rest assured, I will make you. I'm going to bend you to my will. Struggling will only make it more painful for you..."

Of course this 'threat' only spurred her to resist more vigorously. Still, Devicarth managed to wrestle her onto the bed. He pinned her face down with her wrists still trapped in his clawed hand.

"I tried to be nice," he sighed, "But you force me to use violence." He drew a pair of fur-lined handcuffs and a long, red and brown whip from the bag, which lay conveniently within his reach. Roughly fastening one cuff, he threaded the other end through a stone loop formed from the tail of a dragon carving above the bed. Then, he forced her other wrist into the open cuff, effectively binding her to the wall. She squirmed and tried to kick him but Devicarth put an end to that. He directed a single tendril to emerge from the mattress and pull her legs straight behind her. She was trapped. ...And she loved it.

Devicarth became deceptively gentle, tracing the whip over her vulnerable, exposed flesh. The whip emitted a strange warmth as it contacted her back. It felt good but at the same time, unnatural...demonic.

"This is my favorite whip. It's made from hell hound leather; you know how hell hounds get their fire, right?"

Indeed she did. As a witch, her job was to deal with any infernal creatures that manage to reach the surface world. A hell hound's pelt—even a dead hell hound's pelt—released heat in proportion to the speed at which it moved. So if he cracked that whip at top speed... Lara shuddered at the thought. And Devicarth noticed.

"Aw, is my little pet scared...or was that a shiver of desire?" He punctuated his words by snapping the whip in the air.

Startled, the young Lara jumped—to the extent it was possible given her position.

"Well, slut? Do you want it or don't you?"

"What do you think, demon-boy?" she quipped boldly.

"I think I'd better beat some respect into you." With that, he brought the whip down hard between her shoulder blades sending a bolt of searing agony through her tender muscle. Though the whip wasn't hot enough to injure the helpless captive, the combination of heat and impact set her soul on fire. He lashed mercilessly over every inch exposed skin; her arms, back, her firm buttocks and muscular legs all tasted the whip's fiery kiss. Her back reddened to match the front of her soft, ravaged body. The incubus set aside his instrument of torture to lie by her side. Ever so gently, he traced the pointed tips of his claws over a tender welt that had formed beside her spine. She let out a soft purr and nuzzled her head against his neck.