Once You Go Demon

Book Cover: Once You Go Demon

There's a shift of power happening in Hell, and nothing will ever be the same.

Kerr has been with High Demon Horatio's household since his age of majority. A natural submissive pleasure demon, for the last seven years he has been untouched by his master Horatio and his job has morphed into a more managerial role. Still, it's a shock when goons from Master Belial's house arrive at his doorstep to inform him he's been sold and his new master expects him to come immediately.

Lost by Horatio in a card game, Kerr finds himself in the Belial household, where Ceris, Master of the Harem, takes Kerr under his wing. Kerr is not only honored and used as he was made to be, but he is given a newly acquired demon, Harmony, as his own to train. The three pleasure demons have a rocky start, but they have all the time in Hell to figure out how to work together, and it isn't long before they begin to care for one another.

Meanwhile, Belial has waited for thousands of years for Horatio to admit he's actually a submissive. When it appears that's never going to happen, Belial arranges for his best friend to lose a card game in which he's offered himself as the prize. Horatio can't believe Belial would do this for him, but the council puts their seal of approval on the bet, and he has no choice but to offer himself to Belial, who immediately gets to work convincing Horatio that he'll be so much happier as Belial's sub.

Will Kerr and Horatio find joy in their places in the Belial household? Only time will tell.

Publisher's Note: The novel Once You Go Demon by Sean Michael was available briefly from another house.

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artists:

Kerr stared at the paper the incredibly well dressed goons at the door handed him.



He'd been sold into Horatio Liverage's house to act as the man's submissive since he was of maturity, and now, after so long, Horatio had sold him without a word? Without a note?


Utter nonsense.


"There must be a mistake."

The goon pointed one clawed finger at the insignia at the bottom of the page. "What does that signify?"

"Horatio Liverage." He couldn't deny it was his master's seal.

"Then there isn't a mistake. Bring us Kerr, and we'll be on our way." The teeth on the guy doing the talking brooked no argument. Neither did the tufts of smoke coming out of Silent and Scary's ears.

"I'm Kerr. I have to gather my things, make arrangements..." Right? Didn't he get that much at least?

The lower demon looked at the contract again. "It doesn't say anything about belongings here. Let's go."

"I have precious things that hold my family name, and it doesn't say that I can't bring them. I am not resisting, simply gathering my stuff." He could bargain with the best of them. He knew he had to convince them, though, as either one of them could pick him up and toss him over a shoulder without even trying.

Henchman One turned to Henchman Two, who shrugged.

"Is your master here? He can decide."

"He is not. He's away. As such, I am second in charge of the household." He held no illusions that he was beloved or even a lover, but he was well trusted with finances and with all aspects of Horatio's life. "I shall return in moments."

He began to pack -- the stash of jewels he had been collecting for years, his few precious books, his favorite clothes, and the music and computer that were his. He grabbed his toiletries, the hologram of his sire and dam, and the fragile glass orb that throbbed with a sweet, gentle light.

Both goons were frowning when he came back, pushing the pallet of his things.

"We won't be party to you stealing from your master."

"I haven't stolen a thing. These things are my own and now go with me to my new master." Fuckers. Horatio might be able to sell him on a whim, but these were his possessions and they were going with him.

They looked at each other again, shrugged, and turned, heading down the walk toward the truck at the end of it. "We're not toting anything," the talker called back over his shoulder.

"Not yet," Kerr muttered.

He wasn't some pointless goon. He was a highly trained, highly useful sexual submissive and house servant. Soon he would find a place with whomever the fuck the asshole prick that never made love to him anyway, dickhead, had sold his papers to, and then this mouth breather would do what Kerr said.

The goon opened the back door and just stood there, watching him putting his things in. "You're riding back there, too."

"Thank you so much." He rolled his eyes, pushed his hair behind his ears, and climbed in, telling himself that he wasn't hurt, that he was nothing but property, that he shouldn't cry. One day, that might even work.

The door closed with a loud clang, leaving him in the dark, the engine starting up moments later. The truck lurched forward, sending him falling onto his ass.

He did cry then, silently, heartbroken. He'd lost his home, his job, his master, and no one had so much as warned him. Someone had written up that paperwork, someone had made the arrangements, and someone had thrown him away.

He couldn't believe Horatio had done this to him, and without any warning at all, not a word to him.

The truck stopped abruptly, the brakes squeaking loudly. The door opened again, the dull grey sky seeming bright after the darkness of the truck.

Two little slaves popped up into the back and began grabbing his stuff.

He lifted his chin and firmed his lips. He was well trained, valuable. Special in his own right. Men begged to be wealthy enough to own him.

"Come, come," murmured one boy, motioning for him to get down from the truck and follow. He couldn't see the two goons. "You're going to be in the salle, honored one. Your groom is Ceris, and he is the Salle Master."

Finally, someone realized how important he was, what his stature was, even if he was a slave. He followed the lad through a side door and along a winding hall of stone. This place was much brighter than his mast -- than his former master's, more marble than rock on the columns and floors, white and light blue shot through with silver and gold.

When they arrived at the harem, the whole place still felt luxurious and gilded, as if the master lived back here as well as the front of the house. Well, his new master was very rich, there was no denying that.

A huge bald man stood as he walked in, bowing to him solemnly. "Honored one. I am Ceris, your groom. Boy, put the things in the gold room, then call for tea."

The lad who'd guided him here bowed and went running with Kerr's things, deeper into the harem.

"Welcome to Lord Belial's harem. We were very excited to learn he won you and that you would be joining us."

Lord Belial? Bel? Horatio had sold him to his best friend? Seriously?

"Thank you for your welcome." He bowed automatically, his training taking over immediately.

"Tea is coming. After that, I imagine you'd like a bath. Perhaps something light to eat."

Ceris was a handsome demon. The bald head exposed the little horns completely, and they glowed in the light. His bare chest was beautifully muscled, the gauzy pants exposing strong legs and hinting at a heavy cock. There was a heavy spiky gold tattoo covering Ceris' ridged belly, marking him as Master Bel's, Kerr was sure. Marked, but lovely.

"I... Yes, of course." He was developing the world's worst headache.

A lad, different than the first two, he thought, came in with a tray holding a teapot and two teacups. He left them on a low table, bowed deeply.

"Thank you, Totz. You can go."

The boy did, hurrying off like he had somewhere to be.

"Please. Sit." Ceris waved toward the benches that surrounded the table.

"Thank you, Ceris." He and Ceris were equals, and he refused to treat the man with less respect than he deserved. "I was not aware I was to be transferred. Not until the papers arrived at the door."

Transferred. Traded. Discarded.

"That's unfortunate. Were you able to collect all your things?" Ceris asked, pouring out the tea.

"I brought the things that were special that I could carry. What will my duties be here? In my former home, I acted as valet and head of household -- finances, staff management, that sort of thing."

Ceris shot him a confused look. "I was led to believe you were a trained submissive, honored one."

"Yes, I was. My former master chose not to use me in that regard." Not for many years and not often when he had.

"Perhaps that's why he wagered you in the game of chance he played with our master last night." Ceris leaned forward and spoke quietly, confidentially. "He's still here, sleeping it off. It got very loud and much was imbibed. I'm very sorry for the way it happened, but maybe it's for the better. There is no where else in all of Hell that I would rather be."

"I will thrive wherever they wish me to be." He hoped. He had no choice.

Ceris looked him up and down, gaze almost like a physical touch. "I'm sure you will."


Five Golden Beads

Book Cover: Five Golden Beads

Once a year, from Christmas Eve to New Year's Eve, Shay gets a visit from Harper, one of Santa's Elves. Their magical time together may only last a week, but Shay anticipates it the entire year and throws himself wholeheartedly into the kink-filled week. The only way their time could be better would be if Harper could stay longer.

When November rolls around again and the kinky gifts start arriving, Shay can only hope he's been a good enough boy this year to be granted more time with the Elf he loves. Will Santa be able to deliver this year?

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artists:

The presents started arriving in late November. The first was a tattoo magazine. Then two captive bead rings. Three butt plugs. Four cuffs. By then, Shay'd gotten the idea. His own personal kinky Santa was coming to town.

This would be year number six that Harper appeared on Christmas Eve, filling Shay's life with love and sex and everything magical until midnight on New Year's Eve when he disappeared like a wisp of smoke. Shay had to admit, he waited all year long for Christmas.


Five golden anal beads were next. Each one was slightly bigger than the last. The six-stranded flogger felt great on his skin, but seriously, who needed seven jeweled penis plugs? Or eight vibrators? He only had one asshole. Of course thinking about whether or not they'd get through all eight when Harper finally showed up in person was revving him up, wasn't it?

The nine cock rings ranged from simple black leather to intricate and beautiful steel, but the ten nipple clamps made him shudder. He had very sensitive nipples. The eleven urethral sounds made him jack off like crazy, but the twelve bottles of lube? That was a promise.

Shay cleaned the place from top to bottom in the days before Christmas, turned the ringer on his phone off and lined the gifts up on the dresser. He had all the food they could want in the fridge and cupboards, wine, beer and some whiskey in the wet bar. All he needed now was his true gift.

Shay sat on the edge of the bed, eyes on the Christmas lights outside. They twinkled madly, shining off the glass.

It was two minutes to midnight -- two minutes to Christmas Eve. Two minutes to balls-to-the-walls, nonstop, make-him-walk-bowlegged-for-a-month sex.

Shay wasn't sure what Harper was, who held Harper's reins, but he knew that, from the first time, he was snared.

The clock hit midnight and suddenly the room felt heavier. He turned to look to his left and there was Harper, sitting right next to him. The same long, rangy body. The same stunning face with twinkling blue eyes and dark hair that curled around Harper's ears. Harper's lips were dark red, his smile right there for Shay.

"Merry Christmas."

"Harper." Shay smiled, his heart beating so fast. "Merry Christmas, love."

"So you got my gifts." Harper grinned, looking sassy as fuck.

Before Shay could answer, Harper ducked his head, bringing their mouths together. Peppermint. Harper tasted like peppermint. The kiss started slowly, an almost tentative hello, but it quickly grew in strength and surety. Humming, Harper opened his lips, tongue slipping into Shay's mouth.

Shay climbed over into his lover's lap, groaning deep in his chest as they pressed together for the first time in a year. He would have started out naked, but he didn't want to seem too easy so he always made sure he was clothed as he waited for Harper to turn up.

Thank God Harper was on the same getting-naked-as-soon-as-possible page as he was. Sure fingers undid his shirt, each button popping open slow as molasses. They never had to speak much. It was like they had to distill an entire lifetime into a week, so they just got down to it.

It took forever for Harper to finish unbuttoning his shirt, his lips on Shay's all the while. Harper's kisses were like magic. Shay swore they slowed time down, made their week longer, fuller, better.

He spread his fingers over Harper's smooth, warm skin, his palms burning. Harper moaned for him, the sound like music, telling him he was special, that his touch was appreciated. "I've been waiting all year to do this."


Fiends with Benefits

Book Cover: Fiends with Benefits

Desperate to save Standish, his dying lover, Ben summons a demon. When the summoning works, no one is more surprised than Ben himself.

Zazzul is a thousands-of-years-old demon who practices sex magic. He wasn't too impressed about being summoned on his birthday, but once he meets Ben and Standish, he's willing to heal Standish -- as long as Ben agrees to his conditions, of course.

Can Zazzul really heal Standish? And if he does, what will the ramifications be?

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artists:

"You did what?" Standish leaned forward from the piles of pillows propping him up, staring at Ben with wide eyes, the lovely orbs sunken in Standish's once lovely but now drawn face. "Are you stupid?"

"Probably. On the other hand, it didn't work, did it?" He hadn't expected a demon to actually show up. What he'd expect was for Standish to be amused, distracted, maybe a little pleased with Ben's willingness to sell his mortal soul for Standish's good health.

Instead, his husband looked more than a little pissed off.


"But it could have! You can't mess with that shit, Ben. Demons play by their own rules. What if it had shown up and dragged you back to hell? Or dragged me there?" Standish asked. He looked like he thought it was a possible outcome of Ben's actions.

"Standish, baby, demons aren't real." God, had the cancer moved into Stand's brain?

Stand blinked at him and collapsed back against his pillows. "Then why did you summon one?"

Before he could answer, a deep, loud voice boomed from the living room.

"I, the great and terrible Zazzul, have been summoned. What is your -- what the fuck? Are you invisible?"

Standish stared at Ben, and he stared back at his lover.

"Oh, fuck." Ben couldn't believe he'd actually summoned a demon. This was the last thing he'd expected to have happen.

Demons weren't real. Seriously.

"Just lock the bedroom door and call 911," Standish said.

"Call 911 and say what? There's a demon in our living room, send backup?" He was feeling a little hysterical and was thinking maybe that wasn't the worst option in the world.

"Hello?" There was a roar. "I had a perfectly good glass of whiskey and a nice fire going. Where the fuck are you?"

"Lock the door, honey. Now. Maybe call a priest." Standish didn't look that worried, but then his lover didn't have the energy to be more than mildly concerned.

"Must have changed your fucking mind." The voice turned into muttering.

Ben made his way to the bedroom door, but before he could close and lock it, the door flung open, the most incredible... demon standing in the doorway. He was tall and broad, his muscled chest bare, his eight pack ending where a pair of low-slung pants sat, clinging to muscled thighs and what was clearly a sizeable cock. The demon did have horns, and a tail that was swishing back and forth behind him, but no cloven hooves. Dark eyes stared at him, the demon's nostrils flaring.

"You realize I can't go until you send me back." That voice was thick, growly, scraping across his nerves.

Ben stared, wide-eyed, his brain working on a mixture of rabbit, rabbit, rabbit and oh, fuck I would so do him.

"Baby?" Standish said softly. "I think I'm having hallucinations."

The apparition in the door growled softly.

"Why don't you rest," Ben suggested. "I'll be right back."

After he swept up all that chalk on the floor and sent mister tall, dark and horny back where he came from, he and Standish could laugh over this later. When they were alone.

"Are you sure?" Standish was already half asleep, though, his eyelids drooping heavily.

"Are we going somewhere?" the demon asked.

"Living room. We need to talk." If by talk, he meant send Mr. Demon back home.

The big guy followed him back into the living room, where he discovered his chalk circle was already broken. It looked like that was his footprint on it -- he must have done it when he'd gone back into the bedroom. At that point he'd figured it hadn't worked, and he'd no longer been concerned about the necessity of keeping the circle intact.

"So." The demon cleared his throat. "I, the great and terrible Zazzul, have been summoned. What is your bidding, oh human master?"

Ben opened his mouth to send the great and terrible Zazzul back where he'd come from, but without him making a conscious decision about it, the truth shot out. "My lover's dying. I want him better. I really do. Badly." Summoning-a-demon-even-though-he-didn't-believe-in-them badly.

Zazzul sighed. "I can't change fate." Then he grinned, the look absolutely wicked. "Not on my own, anyway."

"What does that mean?" Ben was suspicious. Zazzul was a demon, after all, and so that meant trickery and trying to cheat him. He'd seen enough horror movies to know how this worked.

"You heard of sex magic, kid?" The black eyes were shining, almost twinkling at him as the demon leered.