Cassie's No Good, Awful, Very Bad Day (Baphomet)

averageanon Mar 23rd, 2015 (edited) 2,790 Never
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  1. Thank you all anons who helped with editing.
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  4. For the girls of the Sabbath’s Monster Girl City chapter, a long day was finally drawing to an end. Left over potions were being packed up, food stalls closed, and confetti was swept up as the Black Mass finally drew to a close.
  6. At the convention doors, a sea of visitor exited the building, happily talking and joking as they walked with bags full of potions, toys (for both children and adults), and complimentary shirts of every color. Tired children slept in their father’s arms, friends laughed, and siblings argued about who would get the TV first as everyone stepped into the fierce winter weather, ready to head home for some rest and relaxation, along with testing a new toy or two.
  8. Quite a few patrons had even committed to joining the Sabbath, becoming adorable, younger versions of themselves that practically glowed with youthful energy, although the lustful gazes some gave their lovers left no doubt that their minds were as mature as ever.
  9. Shielded from the falling flakes and temperatures, the cleaning crew was hard at work inside the convention hall, taking down stalls and stacking chairs so they could return home to their loved ones. Being members of the Sabbath, each girl was a miniature version of her species and clad in the purple skirt and black top of their order, a small, silver medallion shaped like a baphomet pinned to their breast. Tiny witches sang happy songs as they animated brooms and bins to sweep away the piles of trash while a few mini minotaurs carried towers of tables on their shoulders, letting slip a risqué joke or two as they went. Everyone was relaxed after the chaos of the convention, the faint, carnival air still remaining after the Black Mass’s end.
  11. Well, almost everyone.
  13. In the farthest corner of the hall, hidden behind the tent city of toys and next to the ruined bar, a casualty from the goblin and oni war waged over its contents, a small, yellow familiar was getting chewed out by her equally diminutive boss who was anything but relaxed.
  15. The familiar, named Lucretia, was dressed in a pink tank top and tight pair of cutoff jeans, the latter of which cut slightly into her wide hips and clung tightly to her plush bottom. Like all familiars, she had paws for hands and feet with a light, downy fur covering her arms and legs from the knee and elbow down. A matching pair of cat ears sprung from her sunshine yellow hair while a long cat tail sprung from behind her. She was also short, standing no taller than a young girl, with soft features that gave her an adorable air, although her crimson eyes had a mature light that hinted at her true age.
  17. Her boss, on the other hand, had no need to worry about a petty thing like being mistaken for a young girl.  
  19. Sure, Cassie had a youthful build and girlish features like most baphomets, along with the rams horns, cloven feet, goat tail, great, clawed paws, and fur covered shins and forearms of her species, but unlike the rest of her race, she looked like a petite woman instead of a little girl. Her clothes were prim and proper, a clean white blouse hiding her flat chest and a skirt of blackest night covering her trim thighs. Her blazing crimson eyes, shone from behind thin, black rimmed glasses while her medium, ash gray hair was tied back in a tight bun.
  21. It also probably didn’t help that much of her time was spent correcting her subordinates, something she was doing at this very moment, giving her a nigh permanent scowl of disapproval.
  23. Speaking of which.
  25. “AND if I catch you so much as THINKING about getting back at Priscilla,” the familiar’s boss growled, her voice positively dripping with rage “then I will hit you so hard that history will remember you as the first girl to make it to ALPHA FUCKING CENTARI! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?”
  27. “Y-yes mam,” the familiar stammered, visibly trembling with fear before the angry demon “it won’t happen again. I swear!”
  29. “It DAMN well better not.” The crimson eyed terror roared, the clipboard in one of her great, ash colored paws cracking beneath her grip. “Because of the two of you, I have to go before the High Council of Imoutos on Wednesday and explain WHY two of our star girls decided to have a fight during our BIGGEST EVENT OF THE YEAR!”
  31. Lucreatia’s response was silence mixed with slight cowering, trying her best not to set off the irate hell spawn.
  32. Luckily for cat eared monster girl, it seemed to appease her superior, drawing a tired sounding sigh and grumbled “Get out of here” from the bespectacled baphomet.
  34. With a hasty nod and a blurted “Thank you” the Familiar sprinted off towards the first aid station, fluffy tail puffed up in fright.
  35. As she watched her subordinate flee, Cassie couldn’t help let out another sigh of exasperation, the action doing little to stop her burgeoning headache.
  37. The day had been meticulously planned for months, entire days dedicated to planning the perfect schedule. The trio of familiars would start out with their grand opening, mingle with the crowd for the middle, and then they would gather for a sendoff at the end. Nice and easy, a textbook example of how the Sabbath runs its Black Masses. But no, little Miss Priscilla decided to try and steal Lucretia’s boy toy.
  39. In the middle of a potion’s demonstration no less!
  41. At least the crowd seemed to think the magical catfight was a skit, although Cassie could only pray no one videotaped it. Not that this stroke of good luck made her feel better, the ageless terror still needed to deal with the green furred Priscilla on Tuesday, assuming the prissy familiar’s brain wasn’t still fried by Lucretia’s finishing spell.
  43. The mere thought of speaking to this mess’s instigator rekindled the fires of anger within the gray demon, an anger which was soon turned on her underlings.
  45. “Pay attention!” the arch imouto shouted at a nearby gaggle of giggling witches, grabbing one of their animated brooms before it knocked over a box of glass vials “We are paying you to CLEAN, not gossip! Get back to work before I use YOU lot as brooms!”
  47. A collective “eep!” of fright rose from the group of pointy hatted girls, the lot of them scattering to watch their brooms and hide from the baphomet’s fiery wrath.  
  49. “Watch what you’re doing!” she screamed at an oblivious oni, a tower of tables more than twice her height resting on her shoulders, “You break one of these and it is coming straight from YOUR paycheck!”
  51. The crimson skinned girl gave a squeak of fear and a hurried apology before running off, as eager to finish her work as she was to get away from her boss.
  53. So it went for the next two hours, the ornery harbinger of doom terrifying her minions and making sure that the floors were spotless, the stalls taken down without incident, and the trash neatly disposed of before the devil bugs got in it.
  55. “Grab that chair!” she’d order a girl, leaving no room for argument “If you can talk you can clean!”
  57. “Why are there balloons still in the rafters?” Cassie roared to a small harpy, one of Cassie’s goat ears flapping in irritation “Are we trying to leave a mess? Get…them…DOWN!”
  59. “Who left a goblin in this cauldron?!” The grey goat girl shouted at a tiny, frightened looking brown werecat, hauling the drunken monster from her sleeping place “Are you even CHECKING THEM?”
  61. The other girls avoided their livid boss as best they could, songs falling to whispers and jokes told in hushed tones whenever their boss stalked by.
  63. After an hour of hard work the room was finally spotless, a haggard looking heap of sabbath members panting as their fearsome boss surveyed the room.
  65. “I suppose it will have to do.” Cassie finally said, the weary heap of monster girls giving a sigh of relief at her judgement “All of you worked hard today so I’m letting you take Monday off. Have a good weekend and I’ll see you all -.”
  67. A joyous roar drowned the arch imouto out, the rest of the sabbath members sprinting from the room in a happy, screaming stampede.
  69. The interruption made the gray demon feel like shouting them down again, keeping them there and lecturing them on the importance of letting her finish.
  71. She didn’t, the day’s stress and a newly born headache tiring even a mighty baphomet like her.
  73. Besides, the Sabbath crew had worked hard today and Cassie wanted to be home as much as they did, although she would never admit it.
  75. After performing one final check, and finding a drunk goblin sleeping in a waste bin, the ancient evil ventured out into the bone chilling weather of winter.
  77. The convention center parking lot was an empty wasteland of white, ever growing snow drifts replacing the long gone cars. Except for a few flickering lights, the lot was dark, the snow falling in sheets so thick that the flakes could block out the glow of the street lights.
  79. For those who had to brave the streets, it was a horrible night to drive. The blizzard blinding the drivers while the ice caused their cars to slip and slide in the street, and this was without counting whatever monsters may be hiding amidst the flurries to pounce on an unfortunate traveler.
  81. But for an ancient and powerful creature like the arch imouto, there was no need for a crude, mechanical contraption like a car. With but a thought and a few whispered words the demon could rip apart the fabric of reality and teleport to wherever she wished. From New York to Beijing and everything in between, Cassie could traverse the world in a heartbeat using her immense magical strength and arcane knowledge.
  83. It wasn’t as if the actual reason she didn’t have a car because she was too short to see over the dashboard. That would just be silly and it certainly wasn’t something she'd be jealous about, why would she want to drive a big, dumb car anyways?
  85. Regardless of her reasons for not have a car, the demon needed to head home and standing in an empty lot wasn’t going to help her accomplish that. Her ruby lips parted and dark words were whispered under the baphomet’s breath, unearthly syllables that ill matched the movements of her lips. It was an old spell and familiar spell for Cassie, a comforting warmth blooming in her chest and her nerves tingling from stored mana.
  87. A pleased purr slipped from the horned demon’s lips as the power flowed within her, begging for her to unleash it upon the world. It screamed at the arch imouto to twist it for darker things, to open the earth and swallow the city whole, to cloud the skies with plagues of biting, stinging insects, or scorch the earth black with towering pillars of hellfire.
  89. Within the gray demon there was a part of her that wanted head its call, returning to the old ways of shadow and death so she could cast down mankind’s towers of steel and glass. In their place she could raise unholy monuments in her image, ruling over the smoldering ruins as a paragon of terror. She could raise a new Sabbath to serve her, an organization that waged a war of domination, not some senseless campaign about the size of a girl’s chest.
  91. It would be so simple for her, just a simple wave of the hand and she could ascend her dark throne and begin a new age. No more would she worry about worthless things like planning conventions or keeping her subordinates in check. She would be free to do whatever she wished within her dark and terrible kingdom.
  93. The small demon pushed away the tantalizing whispers, her petite chest rising as she sucked in a calming breath. That small part which wished for these dark days to return was small and insignificant, a withered remnant from a shameful past. The ashen haired woman had a new life now, a happy one free of the blood and thunder from her old days.
  95. With an explosive exhale Cassie released the spell and, with the smell of sulfur and a burst of cinders, vanished from the parking lot, leaving it empty but for a circle of freshly melted snow where she had stood.
  97. For a brief second all the bespectacled demon saw was fire as she left the dreary, snow covered parking lot behind her, arriving before her home in a flash of emerald flames and the pungent odor of brimstone.
  99. It was a picturesque family home, two stories with clean, white vinyl siding with a pine green door and shutters. Its black shingled roof was covered in snow, with a few forgotten Christmas lights still blinking red and green through the white fluff. Two windows on the second floor marked the master and secondary bedrooms while a large picture window on the ground floor glowed with a warm light, its shades drawn to keep the heat and light trapped inside.
  101. Sure, it was well within Cassie’s power to arrive directly inside her house depositing herself directly onto a couch or bed for instant relaxation, but a few mishaps with her husband, and three ruined carpets, had swiftly put an end to that practice.
  103. The arch imouto’s arrival, similar to her departure, had melted the snow in a perfect circle around her, leaving Cassie’s cloven hooves in a pool of quickly cooling water. She did not mind though, the small woman’s red eyes focused on her ashy, right paw as the comforting tingle of magic faded away, her headache fading away with it.
  105. With a small grumble to herself the goat horned woman trudged through the freshly fallen powder, her dark mood barely brightening at the fact that her walkway had been shoveled at some point.
  107. Sure, she didn’t have to walk in snow that came up to her thighs but it didn’t change the fact that two of her best stars were still at each other’s throats and she was going to have to speak to the high council of imoutos.
  109. “Whatever,” she grumbled as she stomped up the steps, her cloven feet cracking what little ice had frozen over the steps “I can deal with it Tuesday.”
  111. That thought calmed her a little bit, the stress of the day finally bleed off of her. She was home now, about to walk through the door for a night with her darling daughter and loving husband.
  113. Everything would soon be right in the world, for a while at least.
  115. “Robert! Sadie!” Cassie called, opening the door with a tiny, happy smile, “I’m ho-“
  117. There are many things the arch imouto expected to come home to.
  119. Her daughter and husband watching “Captain Robo” (a children’s show about cyborg monster girls) on the couch or playing in a pillow fort were two of the highest.
  121. She wouldn’t have even been surprised if her husband had been waiting for her by the door, a hot mug of coco in hand for his tired wife.
  123. What she had not expected to see was a violent cyclone of purple lightning tearing her living room apart, family photos, fine china, and hand carved furniture tossed about the room with equal impunity.
  125. Amidst the storm of DVD cases and half built Lego kits were Cassie’s husband and daughter, the older man frantically flipping through his spell book while the young girl looked on in amazement from behind the ruined remains of their couch.
  127. Robert, her husband, was fairly ordinary man in his late twenties with hazel eyes and squared features with a tawny goatee growing from his chin. His hair was kept short and his body was lean through near religious use of a treadmill. His height was average at five foot ten inches, and his current clothing was a, now dirty, white undershirt with an equally dirty pair of blue pajama bottoms. In fact, he looked so ordinary that, were it not for his goatee, no one would have believed he was a warlock, because as everyone knows, every warlock worth his salt has a neatly trimmed goatee.
  129. This is fact and anyone who says otherwise is a charlatan or in the wrong profession.
  131. “Hello honey!” The busy looking warlock called to his wife, eyes never leaving the fluttering pages of his spell book. “It seems our little girl learned a new trick.”
  133. Cassie said nothing, the demon’s crimson gaze moving from her husband to their daughter.
  135. “I made a tormato!” Sadie cheerfully responded, seemingly unphased by the destruction she had unleashed.  “I’m cleaning!”
  137. The five year old baphomet was a miniature, carbon copy of her mother, although she seemed much happier than the gray haired matriarch. Standing all of two feet and clad in a bright pink pair of pajamas, the demon spawn looked positively harmless. Sadie’s ash grey hair was short and held in a side tail, tiny horn nubs poking from the ashen strands while her cherubic face glowed with glee. In fact, other than the size difference, the only difference between her and her mother were the eyes, the tiny terror sporting two hazel orbs that mirrored her fathers.
  139. A plate flew from the sparking indigo vortex and shattered against the wall, drawing a giggle from the little girl and a wince from her mother.
  141. “It’s pronounced “tornado” dear,” Cassie sighed, shutting the door as a family photo bounced off the couch and embedded itself in the drywall “and as soon as your father fixes this situation you are going right to bed.”
  143. “But whhhhhhhhy?” Sadie whined, her cheerful look evaporating in an instant. “I’m helping daddy clean!”
  145. The older baphomet gave her daughter a stern look as she casually walked towards the protection of the couch, blasting a mahogany chair from the air as it flew towards her.
  147. “You are doing many things young lady but “cleaning” is not one of them,” Cassie replied as she sat, pulling the squirming girl onto her lap “you know you aren’t allowed to use magic in the house.”
  149. The demon spawn pouted in her mother’s lap, puffing out her cheeks in anger as her mother held her in place.
  151. “Don’t be so hard on her Cass,” Robert mumbled absentmindedly, finger poking into one of the pages in his book “you have to admit it’s an impressive spell for someone her age.”
  153. Their daughter’s mood flipped from angry to happy in less than a second, a wide smile on the diminutive demon’s face at her father’s praise. Cassie’s expression, on the other hand, darkened at the words, her look of exasperation finding new lows.
  155. “Don’t encourage her Robert,” Cassie snapped, the headache returning as she glared at her husband “she knows the rules and needs to be punished for breaking them.”
  158. The warlock merely grunted in response, rereading a line in his book as he sought a fix for the miniature cyclone in their home.
  160. “What if she does this at school?” His wife asked, the stress induced headache continuing to throb. “Do you want to go to the principle and apologize for our daughter summoning imps or burning down the school?”
  162. Robert responded with a series of unintelligible words, a green glow hanging at the edge of his eyes as the warlock gathered his power.
  164. “Are you listening?” Cassie complained, an antique clock shattering against the wall “Robert?”
  166. Cassie’s husband simply continued his chant, years of practice, and marriage, allowing him to tune out his wife and the splintering of furniture.
  168. Slowly, but surely, the violent, violet vortex’s spinning began to stop, each revolution taking longer and longer as the warlock pulled away at the eldritch strings holding the spell together.
  170. Ever since Sadie had become aware of her magical prowess, something which only grew by the day, Robert had begun researching ways to counter or dispel anything the energetic demon spawn unleashed.
  172. And unleashed was the only proper word which could describe the young baphomet’s spells, any other word lacked the proper emphasis to describe what she was creating. Despite being only five years old, the little girl had more magical power than most human wizards, able to create balls of fire or turn wood into gold with but a thought. Unfortunately, their little girl lacked the experience of these older caster’s, preferring to let the magic do whatever it wished.
  174. Not that Sadie cared, she found the spontaneous explosions exciting and loved nothing more than when the couch was transmuted into vanilla ice cream. This mix of power and lack of experience, or care, was why the warlock and his wife had banned the girl from using magic in the house.
  176. Although it wasn’t working if today was anything to go by.
  178. Sweat beaded on Robert’s brow as he gently released the aimless tornado’s energy, tearing the rogue spell apart bit by bit as he plucked at the strands holding it together. It, rightly, felt as if he was disarming a bomb, one wrong pull and all the energy contained within his daughter’s creation would be released in a destructive burst. The last thing the warlock needed was to rebuild the family’s house.
  180. Again….
  182. For an agonizing ten minutes he fought with the rogue magic, gently releasing more and more arcane energy from it. The swirling vortex began to wobble as its strength declined, a chair or plate slipping from its grasp every now and then. All the while his wife and daughter sat next to him, Cassie fuming about the whole situation.
  184. “Mommy? Why’s daddy so quiet?” Sadie asked, the miniature demon giving her mother a meek look “Is he mad?”
  186. “I don’t believe so sweetie,” Cassie replied, sounding very tired as she wrapped her daughter in warm hug “but I certainly am. How many times have we had this talk about you and your magic?”
  188. The demon spawn grew pensive for a moment, her expression one of deep thought.
  190. “Six?” she ventured, quizzically looking up at her mother.
  192. “No, Sadie.” the older baphomet replied, giving what felt like the twentieth sigh today “It’s closer to thirty six, and I don’t like having these talks any more than you do.”
  194. “You don’t?” her daughter exclaimed, a look of genuine surprise on her face as the revelation rocked her world. “But mommy always has these talks with me!”
  196. “Not because I want to.” Cassie groaned, leaning back against the couch and keeping her daughter wrapped in her gray paws “I’m not home often enough as it is, I don’t want to spend what precious little time I have here berating you for using magic in the house.”
  199. “But daddy does and you don’t get mad at him!” the hazel eyed girl pouted, giving her mother an angry look “And you blew up a chair!”
  201. “That’s because your father and I can control our magic” the red eyed baphomet answered sternly, her headache throbbing painfully “you can’t yet.”
  203. Sadie didn’t listen though, her young mind only understanding the unfair knowledge that her parents could do something fun but she couldn’t. It also didn’t help that Robert was less than two feet away, murmuring incantations under his breath as he picked the, now tiny, cyclone apart.
  205. “It’s not fair.” The young demon grumbled, struggling in the older woman’s paws. “I wanna to do magic too.”
  207. “It doesn’t have to be fair!” Cassie angrily snapped, her headache and stress boiling over into frustrated anger “I am your mother, young lady! When I say no magic, I mean no magic!”
  209. She regretted those words the instant they left her mouth, her harsh words shocking the young baphomet into silence. A good five seconds passed before Sadie’s face changed from surprise to one sorrowful anger, her bottom lip trembling and dewy tears twinkling at the corners of her eyes.
  211. “Lemme go!” the demonic daughter whined, tears of impotent rage beginning to trail down her cheeks. “Lemme go!”
  213. Her furry paws flailed about as she tried to break her mother’s grasp, the older baphomet holding the squirming, wiggling girl.
  215. “Sadie,” Cassie grunted, trying her best to regain her frayed composure while her daughter continued to struggle “just calm down I d-“
  217. “LEMME GO!” Sadie screamed in a shrill voice, her tantrum reaching critical mass. “I HATE YOU! LEMME GO!”
  219. “I hate you”
  221. Those three words hit Cassie harder than any blow could. The titanic strength baphomets are known failed her as she processed those words, allowing her weeping, screaming daughter to break free.
  223. A bolt of grey and pink shot up the stairs, Sadie’s cloven feet thumping with each step as she weepily stumbled up the stairway.
  225. Frustration and regret.
  227. Anger and fatigue.
  229. One emotion bled into another until arch imouto couldn’t even tell what she felt anymore. She’d spent weeks preparing for the Black Mass, going through countless schedule drafts, room plans, and rehearsals so it would be THE event of the year, and even then it had blown up in her face. All those hours of planning, all the stressful meetings with vendors, and late nights away from home, burned to ashes because one diva couldn’t keep her ego in check.
  231. Were her hair any other color, Cassie had no doubt she’d be sporting more than a few gray hairs. The baphomet hadn’t even been able to spend a night with her family in over a month and a half, coming home long after they’d gone to bed. The only time she had seen them was during weekends and even then she had been busy, checking and rechecking contracts and calling vendors to confirm their purchases. The arch imouto of the Sabbath couldn’t even relax in her own home, returning to find a house torn apart by an eldritch whirlwind and a daughter who, as of three seconds ago, hated her.  
  233. For the first time in a long while, the ancient terror felt powerless. The awesome strength that let her lift trucks one handed and the power level cities with but a word useless in the face of an ornery daughter and antagonistic subordinates. An ugly, sick feeling formed in the pit of Cassie’s stomach as she pulled her grey furred legs into her chest, hugging them tightly to her chest as she wallowed in depression.
  235. Not even the clatter of falling furniture and shattering of plates could draw her attention, Robert finally siphoning off the last of the magical mishap’s energy.
  237. “That was surprising,” the warlock chuckled, his voice containing equal parts pride and exhaustion as laid against the damaged sofa “didn’t expect our little girl to have that much juice in her.”
  239. Cassie’s wordless grumble was almost inaudible, the girl too busy wallowing in despair to give a proper response. The goateed master of shadow gave his wife a concerned look, noticing a distinct lack of energetic demon spawn.
  241. “Honey?” he asked in a gentle tone, resting a hand on the petite woman’s shoulder. “Where’s Sadie?”
  243. The baphomet responded with another non-committal grumble, her crimson eyes boring a hole in the carpet.  
  245. The warlock sighed and pulled his wife in close, rubbing one of her floppy ears as he waited for a response. The couple sat there for five minutes, Cassie continuing to silently gaze at the floor while her husband sat next to her.
  247. “She hates me.” The arch imouto eventually said, her voice quiet. “I blew up on her and now Sadie hates me.”
  249. “She doesn’t hate you,” Robert comforted, his hand moving from Cassie’s ear to the top of her head “she’s five. She’s just frustrated she can’t show you her magic, when was the last time we were all together?”
  251. The man gave his wife’s hair a ruffle, the horned woman relaxing just the tiniest bit at his touch.
  253. “You know I can’t cut back on my hours,” Cassie replied halfheartedly, enjoying her husband’s touch “who knows what my subordinates would do if I wasn’t there.”
  255. Those words drew a small laugh from Robert, the square jawed man giving his other half a wry look.
  257. “I think that they would be fine.” He said, still massaging his wife’s scalp
  258. “They just look like kids, it doesn’t mean they act like them.”
  260. “But they do!” the gray haired girl groaned in response, her headache faded beneath her husband’s tender care. “Seriously, I was there and two of them got in a fight over a guy during a demonstration.”
  262. “You mean that wasn’t staged?” The warlock asked his wife, giving the arch imouto a look of disbelief.
  264. “Of course it wasn’t! Why would I plan something like tha-“ the baphomet’s words died in her throat, the gears in her head turning. “Dear, how do you know about the fight?”
  266. Robert broke out in a cold at his wife’s question, mentally cursing himself for letting
  268. “Cassie, it’s not that important.” He said in a placating tone as she turned to him, her gaze burning. “It’s late and I can tell you tomorrow.”
  270. “Robert,” the horned monster girl pressed, her tone commanding “how do you know about it?”
  272. “Only if you take a bath,” the warlock quickly offered, trying to by himself some time “you just got home and you need to relax. I’m not having you stress out any more than you are.”
  274. “I AM NOT STRESSED!” Cassie shouted, her voice dropping an octave, crimson eyes blazing with power, and motes of purple energy gathering around her “Now tell me where you learned about that before I -“
  276. The goateed man sighed as his wife launched into one of her trademark tirades, eloquently describing exactly how she planned on shattering his pelvis if he failed to tell her how he’d learned about the familiar’s fight. Oh sure, he’d found it frightening the first ten or so times Cassie had promised to reduce his pelvis to dust, but at this point it was more of a small irritation. He’d heard them so many times at this point that he could have recited her threats by heart.
  278. After all, you can only threaten to turn a man into a mewling cum pump so many times before he stops paying attention. That a husband’s natural ability to tune out his wife had kicked in.
  280. “And then I’m going to cover your back in pleasure runes,” The baphomet raved, the sickly purple light glowing stronger “getting you nice and ready for the whip of lost souls.”
  282. Robert nodded, his eyes slightly glazed over as he began surveying the wreckage of their living room.
  284. “A good eighty or ninety lashes should do,” she continued, her ambient energy levitating small pieces wood and porcelain “enough to drive to the very edge of release.”
  286. “Yep,” the goateed warlock murmured automatically, his mind already running mental calculations for what it would take to fix the room “drive me right to the edge.”
  288. “Of course! Then, just as you’re begging me to grant you that pleasure,” The arch imouto thundered “I’ll attack with that fallen angel’s feather I have stored in the closet. Denying you that which you so desperately crave as I attack you on a new front.”
  290. “Mhmmm,” the man eloquently commented, wondering how the windows didn’t break during his daughter’s “cleaning” attempt.
  292. The ashen haired baphomet halted her crazed ranting for a second, crimson eyes narrowing in suspicion at her husband’s rather unenthusiastic responses.
  294. “And after that,” she slowly replied, eyes narrowed as she watched her husband “I’ll mount your head in the den.”
  296. “I’m sure I’d make a lovely trophy.” Robert responded, happily noting that the TV seemed to have survived unscathed.
  298. “You aren’t paying attention are you?” the horned demon groaned, her voice returning to its normal tenor and the built of magic dispersing.
  300. “Enough to know you need to take that bath.” the man responded with a light smile, giving his wife a small elbow “Come on! I’ll even take it with you.”
  302. The crimson eyed horror wasn’t even able to give a single word of protest before Robert lifted her up, the taller man effortlessly sweeping her into a princess carry.  
  304. “P-put me down this instant!” Cassie stuttered with as much authority as she could muster, doing her best to ignore the hammering of her heart and the wagging of her goat tail. “I don’t want to take a bath!”
  306. “It doesn’t look like it,” her husband shot back with a smile, planting a chaste kiss on his wife’s forehead as he leapt up the stairs “if it was true then you’d have broken free already.”
  308. The arch imouto’s face burned a brilliant crimson at the warlock’s remark, quickly burying her face beneath her paws so he couldn’t see the blush.
  310. “Just take me to the damn bath..” Cassie grumbled halfheartedly, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips as she sunk into the comforting warmth of her husband’s arms.  
  312. < - - - - - - - >
  314. The air in the couple’s large bathroom was hot and heavy from the nearly scorching water, a thick fog obscuring the wall length mirror. The walls were an expertly painted shade of sandy brown, the painter’s skill brooking no dribbled paint or stray brush strokes, and the floors were covered in laminated tiles reminiscent of marble, although the scattered clothes from the bathrooms occupants hid much of it. The main attraction, though, was the large, three person bath which currently held a smiling warlock and red-faced, grumpy looking baphomet.
  316. “Ahhhhh,” Robert groaned in exaggerated relaxation, laying back in the nearly scalding water “doesn’t this feel great?”
  318. “Yes, yes, it feels wonderful.” the demon answered brusquely, her black rimmed glasses resting on the counter beneath the mirror and her gray colored hair hanging free, its bangs touching her eye brows and back resting on her shoulders “Are you going to answer me or just leave me here in suspense?”
  320. “Not until you relax.” the man replied with a warm smile, drawing another sigh of exasperation from his wife “This is supposed to be calming, your still too wound up.”
  322. The ageless terror rolled her eyes but relented, leaning back against her husband’s chest and enjoying the hot waters as much as she could. For his part, the warlock enjoyed the touch of his wife’s silken skin, wrapping his arms around her waist so he could hug her tighter against him.
  324. The couple lay in the scalding waters for the longest time, enjoying each other’s presence in silence.
  326. It was the first time arch imouto could relax in many weeks, her tense muscles slowly relaxing in the soothing waters of the bathtub. It felt like years since she and Robert had last been alone together, the two of them free to cuddle in silence. Certainly they hadn’t been able to do so since the Black Mass had been announced. But for her, all the late, lonely nights and early mornings were done, finally she could spend some time to just be together with her husband and daughter.
  328. Her angry daughter who’d said she hated Cassie and had ruined the living room….
  330. And the arch imouto still deal with the Priscilla on Tuesday, assuming the green familiar was even conscious, in addition to reporting to the high council of imoutos one Wednesday….
  332. Oh, and the baphomet still didn’t know why her husband knew about the fight.
  334. Cassie let out an explosive sigh as her good mood was slain in an instant, her heart beating harder as she thought of all the work she had ahead of her.
  336. This change didn’t go unnoticed, the baphomet’s husband feeling the change in his wife’s body as her grey paws clenched and cloven feet clacked against the bottom of the white tub.
  338. “Honey,” the man gently chided, holding his wife tight as her fidgeting increased “you’re not relaxing, just close your eyes and calm down.”
  340. Unfortunately, his actions just seemed to increase the demon’s growing frustrations, her cute face tightening into an ugly look of irritation.
  342. “I’ll calm down when you finally give me an answer.” The Cassie growled, anger tinting her voice as she half rose from her husband’s chest. “I need to know how much damage those two have already done so I can get ready to deal with it.”
  344. Robert cracked open an eye and gave his wife an appraising look, his smile fading as he thought. As much as he didn’t want to do it, the master of demons needed to tell her how he knew about the video. If she didn’t hear it from him then she’d hear about it from the news and if she heard if from them than her response would be much, MUCH worse than if she heard it from him.
  346. “The internet,” he answered in a grave voice, his heart pained as he watch his wife’s shoulders tighten at the news “there’s already a video of it on the internet.
  348. A normal person would have expected Cassie to do many dark and terrible things in response to this most unwelcome of news, the ageless terror’s mighty will finally giving way to thoughtless fury. They would have figured that the goat horned woman would let out an echoing shriek of rage, something that harkened back to the days of old. A roar of primal hatred that would have shaken a veteran paladin to his core and sent armies fleeing in terror. They would have feared the skies burning red as the crazed baphomet drew upon her blackest magics, making night as bright as day as she enacted a ritual to erase the video from reality.
  350. But Robert knew his wife much better than a normal man.
  352. He knew that when Cassiel, once known as the lady of cinders, the duchess of fire, and the scorched blade, finally reached her breaking point it was not destruction that followed, but something else. No longer would she raze cities or lead the armies of the damned against the forces of light, drowning everyone in a furious tide of steel and death like she did in very early days of creation. Instead this immortal demon of shadow and flame would fall into a deep depression, one which only a gallon of cookie dough ice cream could fix.
  354. Well, that and a little personal time with her husband.
  356. “I think I’m done with my bath.” the crimson eyed woman calmly stated, her voice emotionless as she freed herself from Robert’s arms “I’ll meet you in bed, don’t bring pants.”
  358. The warm waters sloshed as she climbed from the tub, her damp, ashen fur clumped together and tiny, goat tail drooping. Cassie’s feet had barely touched the bathmat when she was lifted into the air, her husband hooking her under the armpits as he pulled her back into the tub.
  360. “I afraid I can’t let you do that,” the goateed warlock said in his most soothing voice, drawing his horned wife back in his lap “I’m not letting you go eat yourself sick again.”
  362. The exact moment when Cassie’s frayed nerves snapped could almost be heard, although it was most assuredly seen. The formerly warm, comforting atmosphere within the steamy bathroom was strangled in less than a second, the warm waters heating even more while the shadows grew to swallow the lights.
  364. “You won’t let me do what husband?” the lady of cinder asked in a feral growl, each word echoing unnaturally as if it was spoken by a dozen different voices “Eat My ice cream in My home? Lay with MY husband in my bed?”
  366. Robert tried to respond, but this unexpected change had caught him off guard, his words dying in his throat as his wife became the angriest he’d ever seen her.
  368. The baphomet’s thin arms freed herself from the warlock’s grip without an ounce of effort, easily breaking his grip in her fury. The duchess of fire’s pale skin turned from its normal, healthy peach color to the matte gray color of ashes, perky nipples on her dainty bosom changing from bright pink to the color of charred wood. Her light gray fur darkened until it was a black that seemed to devour the light. Her most terrifying change, however, was what happened to her eyes, the blood red orbs disappearing beneath tongues of dancing, emerald hellfire.
  370. It was as if Cassiel had tapped into a primal fragment of her former self, drawing upon the powers of something which burned countries and sieged the heavens themselves.
  372. For Robert it was a moment that contained equal parts of wonder and terror. On one hand he was witnessing the true form of a demon, seeing a tiny part of what his wife’s true self must have been. On the other hand thought, he was afraid for her, wondering if she was still the same person he’d summoned (and then married) back in high school.
  374. Something he rightfully received an A for.
  376. “Do you actually have a plan to keep me here husband?”  The lady of cinders questioned, her soul chilling voice interrupting her husband’s thoughts as tiny wisps of green flame glowed from within her throat. “Or did you think that a simple “no” was enough to keep me here?”
  378. The challenge, or taunt, caught the ageless terror’s husband off guard, the goateed man’s shocked mind still reeling from his other half’s sudden change.
  380. Not that the horror once known as the Scorched Blade paid him any mind, she seemed content to simply straddle his waist and restrain his arms.
  382. “Time’s ticking mortal,” Cassie intoned as her gaze burned into her husband, an unreadable expression on her face, “I will act if you do not.”
  384. That last bit kicked the goateed spell slinger into action with a mental curse, his chapped lips opening to speedily utter a spell of paralysis. His words were spoken strong and clear in the voice of a confident man, one who, seemingly, did not care about the all-powerful demon looming upon him.
  386. “Never show a demon fear.” the saying from history’s greatest tome on demonic rituals (Summoning Eldritch Horrors for Dummies) said, “For if you do then you shall hold no power over them.”
  388. And that is what Robert did, abandoning fear as his eyes glowed white with gathered power and his words rang clear and true.
  390. There was a flash of violet light as a bolt the size of the warlock’s fist appeared between him and the gray skinned baphomet, the two so close that not even Cassie’s reflexes could prevent it from crashing into her.
  392. The demon visibly shivered as the spell struck her, lines of green energy cascading across her body as the spell tried fought to lock the fire eyed woman’s muscles. It was one of the goateed shadow master’s strongest magics, one that could paralyze even a mighty dragon or gazer.
  394. As the Cassiel’s back became ramrod straight and her muscles tightened, the warlock grinned triumphantly. Once paralyzed he could bind her until she cooled down, maybe by giving her a back rub while he waited.
  396.  Although he wondered how he was going to get his arms free from her iron strong grip.
  398. Unfortunately for Robert, he would never figure an answer for that particular question, his hope crushed the instant his wife spoke three simple words.
  400. “Is that all?”
  402. The spell shattered to the sound of twinkling glass as the arcs of green energy exploded into clouds shimmering sparks, the masterful incantation broken with but a thought from the arch imouto.
  404. “Did you actually believe a spell of that strength could stop me?” she asked in an emotionless voice, ash colored face inching closer to her husbands and her grip tightened to nearly painful levels “Such arrogance, should I show you the true strength of a baphomet?”
  406. There was no time for Robert to respond or resist, his wife locking him into a kiss of lustful savagery before he could utter so much as a single syllable.
  408. To say the kiss was heated would have been a gross understatement, it was a raging inferno of passion and lust. Their tongues did not dance with each other so much as wrestle for dominance, pushing and pulling their adversary into their own domain. It was a battle utterly controlled by the burning baphomet, violating her husband’s mouth with a furious gusto her partner had never experienced.
  410. But on those rare occasions when the warlock beat his partner back, he experienced a sensation unlike any other. The land beyond her lips was blazing hot, a heated furnace whose green flames burned ever brighter alongside her lust. Even when he had been pushed back into his own mouth he still felt the green fire’s touch, the fiery, emerald tongues reaching down to his gullet and leaking from the small gaps in their kiss.
  412. Ten seconds, thirty seconds, they held the kiss, Cassiel keeping their lips sealed and forcing Robert’s hands down to his sides as the man’s struggling grew weaker.  
  414. Forty seconds, a minute, it continued, the demon slowly pushing her husband against the back of the tub with the force of the kiss, her petite chest pressed against her husband’s toned pecs.
  416. A minute fifteen, a minute thirty, the warlock’s lungs burned with the need for oxygen yet he could not bring himself to break the kiss. His body as limp as a noodle while his brain screamed for him to continue locking lips with his wife. How much of this desire was his own and how much of it was some trick of Cassie’s he could not tell, all he felt was a powerful compulsion to keep their lips locked together.
  418. It was Robert’s demonic wife who finally pulled her lips away, leaving her husband red faced and gasping for air.
  420. Well, air and something else if his flushed skin and throbbing erection were anything to go by.  
  422. “Are you enjoying it husband?” the ash skinned terror asked a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, her eyes burning a bit more brightly and a dark black blush tinging her face. “Do you love the feeling of my flames burning within you?”
  424. Robert’s only answer was a groan of pained pleasure, his thoughts barely able to pierce the fog of desire which clouded his mind.  It was a cursed flame which burned him from the inside out, causing his heart to beat thunderously loud while his ever more sensitive skin was tormented by the soft touch of his wife. Even the touch of the bath water was enough to set his nerves ablaze, the miniscule waves from the couple’s movements crashing into him like tidal waves.
  426. “I guess I will just have to take that as a yes.” Cassiel cruelly laughed, one of her onyx black claws drawing a groan from her husband as it trailed over his chest “Do you know this fire is what I was known for? A green flame which could reduce even the strongest paladin into a squirming, writhing mess? Screaming to the sky from me to stop?”
  428. The warlock let out another wordless moan, the touch of his wife’s claw tip sending a wave of pleasure through him. It had almost overwhelmed him, overloading his senses and causing his erect shaft to pulse as release drew near. It was only the tattered remains of his discipline that prevented him from exploding over the baphomet and dying her gray skin white with his essence.
  430. For the longest while they remained there, Cassiel drawing lazy circles on her husband’s chest while needy whines leaked from his lips. His member would twitch and throb but every time he neared paradise, Robert would drag himself back in with his fraying will, not that he knew why. It would be so simple for him to just let the fires of passion consume him, staining his wife white as every nerve blazed with lustful pleasure, but still he held out.
  432. His wife had not failed to notice this either, a smug leer plastered over her face while her hips moved to press her, now dripping, womanhood against the base of his shaft.
  434. “I’m impressed you held out for so long mortal,” she cooed, the green flames that were her eyes spitting cinders “most of your kind would be begging me to end it, releasing them from the loving ministrations of my flames.”
  436. It seemed that the Fifth Flame’s husband wasn’t the only one getting hot under the color, the black blush staining her face and the pointed nipples on her small breasts hinting at her own desire.
  438. The goateed warlock only groaned again through gritted teeth, his eyes unfocused as his wife slowly dragged her lower lips along his rigid pole. It was an agonizing experience as the puffy vulva were leisurely dragging along his member, their skin as soft as silk against his hellishly sensitive skin.
  440. Cassie was on her knees now, positioning herself right above Robert’s angry red member, small droplets of water, mixed with her juices, landing on the warlock’s tip.
  442. “You’ve lasted much longer than I anticipated mortal,” the baphomet haughtily proclaimed, fiery green eyes staring at the twitching member below her, “a worthy accomplishment.”
  444. Just as soon as she finished speaking, the grey haired demon slammed her hips down onto those of her husband, impaling herself on his erect rod.
  446. For Robert, Cassie’s insides were nearly indescribable, a sensation so far above normal pleasure that he could never get used to its touch. His pole was attacked on all sides by a feeling similar to being licked by a legion of tongues, slathering every inch of his manhood in his wife’s juices.
  448. The pressure on his member was intense, so tight that it hung on the very border of pain and pleasure. But, through whatever magic baphomet’s possessed, there was no resistance as he slid ever deeper into his wife, free of discomfort as her walls continued their assault on him.
  450. Or, more accurately, it allowed the Lady of Cinder to take him to the hilt in less than a second, hammering her deepest depths with the warlock’s rod.  
  452. The swift movement was too much for the already on edge warlock, his trembling member flooding his wife’s hungry womb with his semen. For him, it was simple relief, releasing the pleasurable pressure that had built up inside him. For the burning demon it was something much grander, the man’s warm spirit serving as a balm for a much greater ache inside her.
  454. All monsters have a desire for the spirit energy of men, a primal instinct placed in them since their conversion centuries before when the demon lord took over that was often likened to an “itch” in the back of their minds. The longer they left the itch alone, the harder they scratched when they finally broke. There are plenty of tales about farm hands who fell prey to a docile holstaur turned rampaging rapist after having her “itch” left unscratched for too long.
  456. And this was just for monster’s who could live without the substance, those that feed off of it, mostly consisting of demon’s and slimes, feel the urges pull much more strongly. For them it was something as necessary as eating or drinking, ignoring this urge was not unlike starving themselves. It is why many demons, most notably succubi, received such a reputation for being insatiable in bed, they literally needed sex to survive.
  458. Or they used to at least.
  460. Modernization took on the needs of monster girls and produced a wide array of goods to help find that fix for spirit energy using an artificial supplement, supplying them with everything from pills of condensed spirit energy to foods laced with it.
  462. While this did make a noticeable dent in the “Proactive Dating” statistics, such events were still far from rare. According to most monster girls tested by companies, the artificial spirit energy was bland, with a taste that resembled cardboard and could fill, but not satisfy, them. As such, only those species that needed spirit energy to survive, or girls who were down on their luck and needed a quick fix, used them.
  464. It was also why Cassie was enjoying the warmth of her husband’s sticky love spreading through her, it was like feasting after a long fast.
  466. And she wanted more of it.
  468. Robert’s member had barely begun to soften when the flaming baphomet’s lips pressed up against his, forcing more of her blazing, emerald flames down the dazed man’s throat.
  470. “I hope you didn’t believe I end it after only one round,” The Lady of Cinder cooed to her husband, one of her now charcoal black paws stroking the dazed man’s chest as his member hardened within her “I’ve waited too long for this.”
  472. The demon didn’t bother to wait for a reply from her flushed partner, her silken walls already drawing a chorus of moans as they danced around the man’s staff. The baphomet’s womanhood was moving in ways that shouldn’t have been possible, twisting around his pole like a cyclone of tongues that licked and caressed every inch of him. His tip, his glands, the front and back of his shaft, all of Robert’s throbbing rod was teased until his brain was almost fried beneath a storm of electric pleasure, causing him to fire another ropey strand of white into his wife’s womb.
  474. Just like before, the panting man had no time to rest, the insatiable demon’s soft, gray lips pressing into his as she poured ever more of her burning desire into him.
  476. The next time Cassie added movement to the mix, lifting herself from the warlock’s member so the bathroom air could kiss his member, its touch frigid compared to the molten heat within the demon. She would let it blow against his vulnerable piece for but a moment before crashing down again, her walls sliding by him until his tool slammed into her deepest reaches, the waves of steaming water sloshing against the tub walls with each impact.
  478.  On the fifth impact, Robert felt his wife’s love tunnel lock down upon his spear, the walls spasming violently as the first orgasm ripped through the petite terror.
  480. Her body bowed slightly, thrusting her meager breasts forward, giving her husband an excellent view of her hardened, dark gray nipples. Her tongue lolled from between her lips and the burning fire’s that were her eyes blazed even greater, panting moans leaking from the demon as her tail wagged erratically in the water, splashing water as it went.
  482. For the warlock, Cassie’s glistening grey skin, petite, heaving chest, and lust lost look gave him a sight that touched his very core, forcing his body to launch a third load of sticky spunk into the baphomet’s overflowing neathers.
  484. For a brief moment the demon’s husband thought it was over, his wife still sailing on the waves of orgasmic pleasure as she gazed at the ceiling.
  486. It took but a single word to drive those words from his mind, a hungry gaze that lived within the green infernos of his wife’s eyes. It was said it a primal growl that spoke of near endless hunger and carried the weight of centuries. It was a voice that was almost as ageless as the heavens themselves.
  488. It was a simple word that sounded like thunder as the insatiable Lady of Cinders bent down to give her husband another cursed kiss.
  490. “More…”
  493. < - - - - - - >
  495. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Cassie asked a worried tone, the demon laying her husband’s weary body in their bed “I’m afraid I went a little overboard.”
  497. “Overboard” was an understatement. The arch imouto had milked her husband dry for an hour, doing her best to reduce the man’s pelvis to dust. It was only when her muff overflowed with Robert’s sticky stuff that the Lady of Cinder’s finally had her fill, her flames dying away and her skin pinkening as she finally relaxed. It was only then that Cassie noticed the ragged state her husband was in, the exhausted man laying barely conscious in the cool waters.
  499. In fact, Robert had been so drained by the ordeal that the baphomet had needed to carry him to their bedroom, her modesty protected by a lacey, black pair of matching bra and panties.
  501. The goateed warlock simply responded with an exhausted chuckle and a pat on the head, ruffling his wife’s grey hair and drawing another blush from the goat horned girl.
  503. “Its fine,” the weary master of darkness replied in a hoarse voice, rubbing the base of his wife’s horns “it’s been a long couple of months.”
  505. Cassie simply responded with a sigh of resignation, enjoying her husband’s touch for a moment before laying his arm back on the bed.
  507. “Just relax honey,” the crimson eyed demon cooed, giving her husband small kiss on his stubble covered check before pulling away, “I’ll go grab our clothes.”
  509. The warlock gave a weary nod before slumping back into his pillow as his ashen haired wife left the room with a ghost of a smile dancing on her lips.
  511. The mistress of flame’s felt content for the first time in a long while, almost skipping down the shadowy halls of their home. A mighty weight had been lifted from slim shoulders, it no longer mattered that she would need to file a report to the high council of imoutos, she no longer stressed over the discussion she would need to have with Priscilla. In fact, she didn’t even care that her living room was in shambles and her only daughter hated…her….
  512. ……
  514. Casssiel’s good mood soured in an instant, Sadie’s angry words ringing through her head once more.  Sure, the littlest demon was only five years old and would probably forget her words after a scoop of ice-cream but the words still stung nonetheless.
  516. “Perhaps I’m being too hard on her,” the demonic mother pondered, quietly stepping into the bathroom and picking up the scattered clothes “she’s only a child after all. Why, when I was her age I…..”
  518. Laid siege to the gates of heaven…..
  520. Dueled with the archangel Michelle…..
  522. Reduced the town of Kirklan to a smoldering pile of ashes…..
  524. Cassie quickly pushed those thoughts from her mind, it had been another time and another life, neither of which were something she wished on her daughter.
  526. “Maybe she just needs a teacher.” The arch imouto thought, taking a small whiff of her husband’s black t-shirt “I guess Robert and I could think up a lesson plan and –“
  528. “Mommy?”
  530. The whisper was thunderous, shattering the silence of the night and drawing a small “eep” of surprise from the ageless terror.
  532. Peering from behind door frame was a sheepish looking Sadie, the miniature baphomet still clad in her pink pajamas.
  534. “Y-yes sweetie?” the small girl’s mother recovered, quickly stuffing Robert’s shirt back into the pile of clothes in her arms, “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
  536. The daughter of darkness fidgeted under her mother’s, hazel eyes turning towards the floor. The young girl’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she finally built up enough courage to speak.
  538. “I love you mommy,” the tiny horned terror finally managed, still staring at the dark carpet, “I’m sorry for saying I hate you.”
  540. A tidal wave of joy roared through Cassie at her daughter’s words, a smile of genuine joy blossoming on her face.
  543. “I know little one,” the matriarch replied, dropping the clothes so she could wrap her daughter up in a hug “I know.”
  545. Tentatively, Sadie’s arms rose to return the hug, the nubs of her hands rubbing against the arch imouto’s chest as she nuzzled against her.
  547. For the longest while they embraced in the darkness, a loving hug given from mother to daughter. It was with great reluctance that the older baphomet broke the hug, giving her daughter a small kiss to the forehead and a warm smile.
  549. “It’s time for you to head to bed Sadie,” The Lady of Cinder whispered, grabbing the young demon’s hand in her own “let’s get you to bed.”
  551. It was a quick walk to her daughter’s room, a simple step down the hall and to the left, but it was all it took to tire out the pink clad demon. By the time they entered her daughter’s room, its walls painted pink and shelves filled with stuffed animals, the mini baphomet had nearly collapsed, forcing Cassie to haul the little girl into her arms.
  553. “Mommy….I’m really sorry….” The hazel eyed girl sleepily murmured as she was tucked beneath pink sheets “I…love…you.”
  555. And with that she was out, drifting off to the land of slumber as soon as her head touched the pillows.
  557. “I know sweetie,” Cassie whispered, ruffling her spawn’s hair before shutting the door “I know.”
  559. By the time she made it back to her room, dirty clothes in her arms, the arch imouto was greeted by the sight of her dozing husband, fatigue finally overwhelming the warlock.
  561. Not that his wife minded, it had been a long day for her and the siren song of sleep was growing ever more appealing.
  563. So it was that the Cassiel, the Mistress of Flame, Bride of the Dark Master Robert, and Mother of Demons, finally ended her day.
  565. A small, happy smile on her face as she drifted off to sleep next to her loving husband.
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