I, Demon Slave

Empusa, an Erinyes, is a creature of passion and lust who must grab the soul of an Earther to serve the demon’s war against the Seraphim. The Earther is more than he seems, at times harsh, others gentle. She takes his virginity and easily ensnares his heart. What she didn’t count on is the reverse would also come true, waking her long dormant heart to her submissive desires.

EXCERPT:
There's a sensation of moving through mud, then I'm thrust out the other side, taking in the differences of Earth; The slightly higher gravity, the lack of ash in the air.
And the cold. I cover up my naked form with my arms and wings, shivering.

The robed figure stands stunned. I do believe he's stopped breathing. Slowly I unfurl my wings and do my best to look impressive. I'm standing on a pentagram drawn with ram's blood. As long as I'm in the pentagram, I'm technically under his power.

The summoner thinks he is in control, and can make pacts with the demons he summons. However, these pacts are open to interpretation, often to the detriment of the foolish mortal who made them.

I've been instructed to play it straight with this boy. Man, really, I see as he doffs his hood. Even beneath his robe—which is of authentic goat's fur, I note—I can tell he's physically fit.

“Who has summoned Empusa, Mistress of Hell?”

“I, Ron Williams, Master sorcerer, have summoned thee,” he says. “I beseech thee and command thee to bend thy demonic might for my will.”

“Look, son, you don't have to talk like that,” I say, suppressing a giggle.

“I—uh, of course I don't!” He points his finger at me. “I would make pact with you, demon!”

“Ah, yes, a pact.” I lean forward, leering at him, until I come close to the invisible barrier separating us. “And what are the terms of this pact?”

Smugly, he withdraws a scroll from inside the robe.

“I, Ron son of Job, hereby immediately and for a period of no more than one hundred years, bind this demon as my slave. She will obey me in all things, and serve me in all things.”
The scroll bursts into flames, which I don't think he was expecting. I'm laughing hysterically while he runs about his living room, waving the burning sleeves of his robes. Finally he drags the garment off and tosses it into his bathtub.

“Stop laughing at me,” he says. I stop, though I still snicker. “Come out of the pentagram.”

“I cannot appear on Earth in my True Form. I must needs adopt a mortal form.”

“Then adopt one.”

“So be it.”

Slowly, I make changes, taking away my horns, my wings, and my hooves, straightening my legs, and lightening my skin. Then I say the word of power, and I am transformed.

I look much like I did when I died—except, of course, that I'm naked. As I step over the line of blood, I can see him licking his lips as he examines my body.

“Does it meet with Master's approval?”

He flinches. Swallowing, he looks squarely at my breasts and then my eyes.

“What did you just call me?”

“Master.”

“Say that again.”