Hand Demon Novels & Stories

“Ah, I can see you are starting to respond, Misao Aika. That is good. Just enjoy it the way you should. You are getting so wet down there. Soon I will fill your lovely lotus with my hard stem." She let out a muffled cry that was equal parts anguish and pleasure, but he ignored it and kept working his talented fingers. Then without warning, he pulled them away from her. Misao Aika felt a momentary sense of relief, but it soon vanished. Bending down, he fumbled about his kimono, then rose with his arm raised triumphantly. "Do you know what this is, Misao Aika?" the demon head asked, holding a small device in the palm of his hand, which he showed to her. "This is a most powerful state-of-the-ar

“Let me introduce him to you. “This is Demon who ranks first in underground boxing. “His only hobby is to eat human flesh. Thomas Mayo, let’s feed him with your flesh today. “Demon, eat him!” Demon curved the corner of his lips slightly, and he rushed toward Thomas swiftly. His extremely high speed was incredible.

Before he knew it, his free hand was moving, and his fingertips were grazing the scars. The demon froze. "Mortal," It hissed, "Remove your hand." Fyn didn't. He boldly moved his hand across the demon's chest, his brows furrowed. Fyn often thought that demons had miraculous healing abilities and that their skin would be flawless. He was mistaken. The arm tightly coiled around him got tighter as the demon sharply inhaled. Growling lightly, a tail coiled around his hand that was on the demon's chest and stopped it from moving.

"I'm not here to listen to your blatant arrogance and juvenile posturing. Give me your hand. Now." Deimon extended his hand with theatrical slowness, still wearing that insufferable smile. Selene unwrapped a ceremonial dagger from its red silk covering, the blade gleaming with runes that predated written language. Without hesitation, she drew the edge across his palm, opening the flesh in one clean stroke.

I am in Nevada and if I am not wrong then you are in the control of the Archdemoness Hannabelle, so take me to her if you don’t want to lose your dick and balls now. “You are not going to do what you say, you are not legally of age yet,” said Rythian and I smiled at him again and then looked at my right hand and shifted it in the claws of a demoness. It was the original demonic hand of a succubus. If you are dealing with one then you needed to know everything that you had to about dealing with condescending bastards. And what could be better than dismembering them? “Won’t I, though?” I asked him and this time he was the one taking a step back.

Artemisia let out a little scream and tried to pull her hand out, but Geon was annoyingly hands strong that she and his grip, even if it didn't hurt, was still firm enough that the young woman's hand remained in place. The vision he had was a little too erotic for Artemisia to continue to look at the demon. His tongue, which was a little long and pointed, like the tongue of a snake, was sticking out, touching gently, and in a rather bizarre way, Artemisia's bruised finger. Blood still came out and dripped a little down the demon's tongue, who looked at her with a raised eyebrow. That image was so strange and somehow so raw that the young woman wondered if it was really happening. That moment

His hands were shaking; he hadn't been able to heal people in years and was scared of causing pain. Dhampir Silas’ fingers brushed against a particularly tender spot on Ace Denzell’s back, and he winced at the feeling. Blood was running down from this particular spot. Dhampir Silas took his handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it to Ace Denzell's wound, trying to slow the flow of blood. It wasn't working as well as he hoped.

"She is a product we are bidding for. We have never had to contend with your products during a bid before, but this one is ours." He licks his lips as he looks at me, and my stomach turns. Dante goes very, very still. The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. He looks at the man for a long moment. Just looks at him. Silent. Assessing. Then his hand moves to his pocket. When it emerges, he's holding something metal. Small. It fits over his fingers like rings, but with vicious hooks extending from each knuckle. Brass knuckles. But worse.

But when he turned back to the corpse, his movements became impossibly gentle, as if the slightest force would shatter this fragile treasure. He took her pale hand and bowed his head, his lips trembling as he leaned in to press a final kiss to the back of it. This hand had waved at him countless times, had gripped the steering wheel through moments of life and death. But just as his lips were about to touch her skin, Daemon froze. Something was wrong. Even in death, her skin shouldn't feel like this. Scarlett was a top professional racer. From years of gripping steering wheels and shifting gears, the base of her thumb and her fingertips had a thin layer of calluses.

I tried to breathe but the bastard had its entire weight on my body, crushing my ribs and digging its claws into my arm. Snarling, I placed the palm of my hand on the ground. The runes on my arm burned red as the earth began to rumble. I turned to the demon and smiled as chains erupted from the ground. They shot through the monster's flesh, severing through its body fat and slicing off one of its breasts. I closed my eyes as a rain of flesh and vile blood rained down on me. I was going to need another fucking bath. I rolled onto my feet, my breath ragged as I scanned for the last monster. “Thrakos," I called as more chains curled out of my runes. "What the fuck are these–"