122: On the demon's lap

On the demon's lap

Anastasia blinked at the words Dante uttered, not understanding what he meant by sitting on his lap. Though he called her a rabbit, did he not realise that she wasn't one and bore no resemblance to a small animal in any way? She replied, 

"I don't know what you mean…"

Sit on his lap facing him? Facing her back to him?

She saw Dante patiently gazing at her; after all, they had all the time in the world, and there was no one to question or disturb them. 

To Dante, Anastasia resembled nothing less than the small and innocent little creature with her wide eyes staring back at him. Her hands, held in a loose grip, moved to settle in front of her chest. He shifted his stance, slightly adjusting his position by subtly parting his legs to make a little more room, and he stated, 

"I will tell you how," he said, lifting his hand towards her, his red eyes penetrating into hers. 

The previously relaxed muscles in Anastasia's body began to stir, and his husky voice compelled her to walk towards him, prompting her to place her hand in his. She saw him offer her a smile before he gently pulled her hand, guiding her to stand beside his right leg. 

"Lie down across my lap, Anastasia." 

"On my front?" Anastasia inquired sceptically, her eyebrows drawing together. 

"Yes. Don't worry, I will support and guide you," Dante assured her, his demeanour relaxed despite the fiery intensity behind his eyes. 

Anastasia's heart continued to respond to his words and the way he looked at her, as if it would never tire of such sensations. Hesitantly, she leant her upper body across his thighs, and in no time, the middle section of her body rested on his lap. Finding the position more than a little awkward, she turned to look at him and felt his hand settle on her upper back, as if to keep her steady. 

"Do you know why we are doing this, little rabbit?" 

"Because you think I am a rabbit…?" Anastasia asked him with uncertainty, returning her gaze to the wet floor. 

Upon hearing her words, Dante's lips slightly curled.

"You have a wonderful mouth, which can be put to better use rather than lying to my face," she heard Dante say, and her body suddenly jolted into alertness when she felt his hand lifting the back hem of her petticoat. "But we can save that for next time, because this time, we need to discipline you." She felt her heart hitch as the back of her thighs were uncovered bit by bit, the fabric inching upwards until it reached her lower back. 

Anastasia's eyes widened when she realised what Dante was planning to do, and she started to protest, "Are you going to—I am a grown woman!" He couldn't possibly be thinking about spanking her, could he?! What had she even imagined he would do to her in this position? she questioned herself. "Dante—" she began, preparing to rise, when his hands turned firm on her back. 

"Are you trying to make things worse?" Dante's voice was low, yet it reverberated faintly within the confines of the enclosed bathing room. "Are you entirely certain that there was nothing else apart from what you have told me?" 

Anastasia bit her lower lip before releasing it and whispering, "Yes."

"You know," Dante's calm voice sent quivers through Anastasia's body as he said, "Being tasked with handling traitors and liars makes it easier to discern if a person is guilty through their reactions." 

"Are you angry with the white lie?" Anastasia asked him, feeling her heart hitch once again as she felt his finger hook onto her undergarment before sliding it down and exposing her bare skin to his gaze. 

"The problem isn't how small or big the lie was, but a part of me is irked by the fact that you are capable of telling falsehoods in the first place. Or perhaps you are simply shy, and this might help you open up," Dante hummed, and at the same time, Anastasia felt his warm hand rest on one of her globes. As his hand caressed her, tracing the curve, she closed her eyes as a flush of embarrassment spread across her face. 

Yesterday, it was the front, and today, it is the back, Anastasia thought. At this rate, he wouldn't just consume her, but devour her even to the bones. 

Anastasia's heart shuddered as Dante gently shifted from one side of her bottom to focus on the other. As her heart began to settle down, and her thoughts drifted to what the Storm Prince had told her earlier, she didn't pay attention to his hand leaving her bottom. 

Wanting to ask him something, Anastasia parted her lips. However, instead of words, a surprised cry escaped from her when Dante's hand, which he had earlier moved away, smacked on her right buttock, leaving behind a stinging sensation and spreading warmth that wasn't limited to that spot alone, but coursed through her entire body. 

The resounding smack, mingled with her echoing cry, deepened Anastasia's blush even further than before. 

"You have a beautiful voice, Anastasia, akin to that of a seductress," Dante said as his fingers traced across her bottom. Her voice was something he had taken note of during the first time they had collided on the secret balcony. "And the more you let it out, the more I want to hear it."

"I can talk if you wa—!" 

Another cry escaped Anastasia's lips; this time, it carried less surprise and more of a moan when Dante's hand moved away and returned with the same pace. It was enough to evoke an array of sensations when the sting blended with pleasure as he unabashedly caressed her tender skin as if coaxing it, only to return to remind her of the little lie that she wasn't planning to disclose. 

The blend of pain with tenderness created an indescribable feeling that Anastasia continued to voice out softly. She felt like the candles in the room, growing hot and feeling as if she would melt.

"Feels like you are enjoying the punishment," Dante murmured, his focus alternating between her body and the sound of her voice, which now transformed into moans. "In certain matters, pain and pleasure run hand in hand, little rabbit. It's a delicate equilibrium that is enough to leave you wet and squirming." 

"…!" Anastasia bit her lip this time, feeling her body slightly jerk when Dante's palm connected with her skin to smack her round globe. The resulting sound held an erotic allure to her ears, and his insinuation didn't help as he pried open the gates of pleasure, his hand generating a fiery warmth and a cold shiver. 

"Do you need to be disciplined further, or has the message sunk in?" Dante questioned her as his fingers drew lines on her skin.

"… message received…" Anastasia breathed, feeling heady. 

And while she was engulfed in a sea of emotions, which she couldn't help but find ironically amusing considering she couldn't swim, she felt Dante adjusting her undergarment and petticoat. As his hand retracted from her back and he assisted her to stand, she felt her knees shake, but before she could seek support by sitting down beside him, he pulled her closer, settling her onto his lap with her feet on the ground. 

"I could sit next—on the platform," Anastasia stuttered without meeting his eyes and directing her attention towards the nearby candles. 

"I wanted you to sit here," Dante replied, watching her sit like a rabbit he remembered one of his sisters once owned. She felt small, seated like this, her hands resting on her lap. "How are you doing?" 

Uncertain of how to respond, Anastasia nodded before briefly glancing at him, only to quickly avert her gaze. God, she couldn't bring herself to look at him anymore after being spanked. They had been doing such embarrassing things! Sitting like this, she realised that Dante was considerably larger than her, and if it weren't for the fact that the wall enclosing the bath was short, her legs would be left dangling in midair. 

"Use your words, Anastasia," Dante reminded her, drawing his legs closer to him.

"I am doing okay," Anastasia responded. She then felt his hand on the back of her head before he began to stroke it. 

She finally turned to meet his gaze, her heart still pounding from how one minute he turned into a demon, telling her he was going to punish her, to this… making her feel like a child. She asked him, "Do you punish everyone like this?" 

"You mean women?" Dante asked, feeling amused, though it didn't reflect on his face. "No, I don't. You are the only special one granted these privileges."

Special… the word lingered in Anastasia's mind. She wondered if the way he felt would dissipate once he found out the truth. Until now, she had indeed received exceptional attention from him, a man who didn't look at any other woman twice. Her lips pressed together, and she asked him, 

"There is something I wanted to ask you."

Dante noticed the hesitant look on her face and said, "Go on."

Instead of asking the question directly, Anastasia took a roundabout route by asking, "Are there women back in the underworld… who might be waiting for your return?"

"Are you asking whether I had any relationships with the lowly demonesses?" Dante's head tilted as he continued to watch her. "There were a few, but none had any significance. Nothing that you should feel threatened about." 

"I wasn't," Anastasia replied, realising that her question had moved in a different direction. "You are a demon who is… old. People, demons have needs." 

"How considerate of you," Dante replied, his lips twisting slightly. "Why the question then?" 

Anastasia drew in a deep breath, as if mustering her courage. She confessed, "I heard that before becoming a demon, individuals were once humans. If there was a woman back then... I mean, you seem skilled in certain things, so I couldn't help but be curious…" Her voice turned faint at the end as she noticed the expression in his eyes harden. 

Dante's hand, which had been gently stroking Anastasia's head, paused for a moment before gliding down to rest on her back. With calmness in his voice, he inquired, 

"From whom did you hear this information?"

Did she ask the question too early? Anastasia answered him, "From the Storm Prince."

"You must have heard more than that," Dante responded, and he said in a nonchalant tone, "There was one. Her name was Isabelle Hansley, and for an earthling, she seemed perfect. A woman many had their eyes on, yet she and I were in love with each other. We married on the outskirts of a small town and lived together for not more than a month before she and her later lover killed me."

"Lover?" Anastasia asked.

"She had fallen in love with another man and wanted to build a life with him. Love makes one do crazy things, even though it can be fleeting," Dante exhaled softly, cutting his words short. 

"I am sorry to hear that…" Anastasia replied, not knowing how awful it must have been for him. 

"No need to be sorry, for she was," Dante answered, causing Anastasia's eyebrows to rise in question. 

"You met her again?" she asked, curious about the circumstances and timing. 

Did she end up in hell after she died? "How did you end up as a demon? You should have gone to heaven," she blurted out, because wasn't that how it usually worked? 

A subtle smile formed on Dante's lips, and he replied, "Not necessarily. Sometimes, tortured souls can become corrupted and find themselves in hell. After my transformation into a demon, I visited her in the living world. She was old and wrinkled, having borne children and seeing the arrival of grandchildren."

Considering the kind of intentions harboured by the demon Dante, Anastasia could faintly imagine the implication of his words. "The scent of fear can be utterly intoxicating for a demon. I started with her husband, before methodically working through the kin she had created, leaving her for last. As I said, revenge is best served with blood."  1

Anastasia noted how Dante didn't seem upset by the memory, and rather, he was too calm, which could be the result of the years he had later spent as a demon in the underworld. While the demon had exacted his revenge, it seemed to come at the price of an increasing hunger for destruction, almost as if the vengeance hadn't been sufficient. 

When Dante leant towards Anastasia, he gently pressed his lips behind her ear, making her gasp. He allowed the contact to linger a second longer before pulling back. With a soft tone, he asked her, "Did I scare you with that story?" 

Anastasia shook her head and replied, "No, you didn't…" If the woman had mercilessly taken his life, she deserved the same fate. But did the woman's children? She couldn't extend the same judgement to them. 

"You don't have to be, because you are my rabbit that won't do anything wrong."

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