28. Lucifer
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
LUCIFER
I strode through the twisting obsidian corridors of Hell. My realm pulsed with the anguished cries of the damned, a symphony that had long since ceased to amuse me.
Approaching the torture chamber behind my throne room, I saw the iron door glowing faintly with infernal sigils, locking Astaroth, who called himself Ian nowadays, within. With a flick of my wrist, I dispersed the wards and stepped inside.
Astaroth, in his demon form, was slumped against the cold stone floor. He glared up at me, his golden gaze blazing with defiance despite his obvious exhaustion.
“You’ve been busy,” I said. “Dreamwalking to Evelyn while locked away. Tsk, tsk.”
Astaroth growled low in his throat but didn’t respond. I knelt, my movements slow and deliberate.
“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” I whispered. “Manipulating her, bending her to your will. But you forget, Astaroth, everything you are, everything you do, is because I allow it.”
He spat at my feet. “Then why don’t you stop me?”
My smirk deepened. I gripped his jaw with cruel fingers, relishing the fear that flickered in those defiant eyes. “Oh, I will. But first, you’ll learn your place.”
With a flick of my fingers, invisible chains wrenched Astaroth from the floor. They dragged him into the heart of Hell’s punishment chambers, a vast cavern filled with the stench of brimstone and blood. I followed leisurely, anticipation building within me.
A massive stone slab sat at the center of the chamber, its surface slick with the remnants of past punishments. Chains dangled ominously from the ceiling. I bound Astaroth spread-eagle across the rock, the enchanted chains tightening around his wrists and ankles. He struggled futilely, the chains glowing with fiery runes that sapped his strength.
I circled him, my predatory gaze roaming over his prone form. “Do you remember Prometheus?” I asked conversationally. “He thought he could defy the gods too.”
Astaroth’s expression flickered with uncertainty before he schooled it into a mask of bravado. But I could smell his fear, sharp and tantalizing.
With a gesture, I summoned a monstrous eagle, its feathers black as coal and its talons gleaming like molten steel. The creature descended upon Astaroth, its beak tearing into his abdomen with ruthless precision.
Astaroth roared in agony as the eagle ripped out his liver, his blood splattering across the stone. The pain was excruciating, a searing torment that would feel like it lasted an eternity.
I watched with detached amusement, my arms crossed. “Pain sharpens the mind, Astaroth. It reminds you who holds the leash.”
Astaroth’s demonic healing kicked in almost immediately, his wounds sealing themselves within moments, only for the eagle to start again. His screams echoed off the jagged walls, a symphony to my ears.
Hours passed, the cycle of destruction and healing unrelenting. Astaroth’s cries grew hoarser, but still he refused to break. His defiance remained, a flickering flame that refused to be extinguished.
Finally, I sighed, feigning boredom. “This could go on forever,” I said. “But I’m feeling generous tonight.”
Astaroth glared at me through the veil of pain, his dark blue skin slick with blood and sweat. “What do you want?”
I leaned in close, my hot breath ghosting over his face. “I want you to submit. Completely.”
Astaroth’s jaw tightened, his silence defiant.
“Your choice, Astaroth. Continue suffering, or let me show you another kind of pain. One you might actually enjoy.” I traced a clawed finger down his chest, relishing his involuntary shudder. “I know you’ve enjoyed it in the past.”
Oh yes, I remembered well the times I had taken him, the exquisite blend of pleasure and pain that only I could provide. The way he had writhed beneath me, caught between ecstasy and agony.
Astaroth hesitated, his pride warring with the desperate need for the torment to stop. Finally, he said, “Fine.”
My grin widened, triumphant. “Good boy.”
With a snap of my fingers, the eagle vanished in a puff of black smoke, leaving Astaroth bloodied and trembling on the rock. I waved my hand, allowing my infernal power to flow through him, speeding his natural healing.
I approached him, my movements slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. I unfastened my black, intricately tailored coat, letting it slip from my shoulders to reveal my flawless crimson skin, the sculpted planes of my chest and abdomen.
Astaroth watched me, his dark eyes wary yet tinged with unmistakable hunger. I chuckled, running a hand down my torso. “Like what you see, pet?”
He looked away, jaw clenched. I chuckled, closing the distance between us. My touch was electric, and Astaroth shuddered despite himself as I ran my fingers along his sharp cheekbone, down the elegant column of his neck.
“Relax,” I said in a low, seductive growl. “This will hurt, but you’ll like it. You always do.”
Astaroth gritted his teeth as my hands trailed lower, skimming over his chest and his abdomen, leaving trails of searing heat in their wake. The chains binding him shifted at my silent command, keeping him pinned but adjusting his position, splaying his legs wider to grant me access.
I pressed against him, letting him feel the hard, hot length of me through the fabric of my trousers. He inhaled sharply, his body tensing.
“So responsive,” I said. “So eager for my touch, even as you try to deny it.”
Astaroth glared at me, but there was no mistaking the quickening of his breath. “I’m not eager,” he said. “I’m just tired of fighting.”
“Of course you are,” I said indulgently. “You keep telling yourself that, pet. But we both know the truth.”
I grabbed a fistful of his ebony hair, yanking his head back. He winced, but his eyes remained defiant.
“Submit,” I said. “Submit to me, and perhaps I’ll make it quick.”
His jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak. I threw back my head and laughed, the sound echoing off the cavernous walls. “So be it, then. It seems you’re in need of a lesson in obedience.”
He struggled to maintain an impassive mask, but the cracks were forming, the desire warring with dread in his dark eyes. Breaking his stubborn defiance would be a decadent pleasure.
My hands mapped the contours of his body possessively, fingers digging into taut flesh. I would make him mine, mark him irrevocably. Shattering resistance was an art form I had spent eons perfecting. By the time I finished with him, he would beg for my touch, plead for the exquisite agony only I could inflict.
After all, I was the King of Hell. And Ian, my bewitching Astaroth, would submit to me like all the others before him.
The chains that bound him clattered softly as he strained against them, a symphony of defiance and desire I added to my infernal playlist. The shifting metal groaned in response to my unspoken command, repositioning his body, exposing him further.
I removed the last vestiges of his tattered pants, casting them aside like the debris they were. His cock, hardening despite his best efforts, was a testament to his true desires.
“So you do want this.” I traced a finger along the length of his shaft. “Good. It’s always more...rewarding when my prey admits their desires.”
I eschewed the usual preparations, the slow build-up that would normally be afforded to one of his stature. No, Ian needed to feel the full force of my wrath and lust. He needed to understand his place in the grand scheme of things.
I looked down at his ass, his tight anus puckered by his defiance.
“Very well, my pet,” I said, the words carrying a guttural edge of hunger. I positioned myself at his entrance, aligning our bodies, my red to his deep blue, and began to push in. It was a tight fit, his rarely-used ass clamping down on me like a glove. But he was made for me, my Astaroth—I had chosen him well.
The head of my enormous, ridged cock breached the tight ring of muscle, inch by agonizing inch. He hissed in air through gritted teeth, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. His face contorted into a stunning mix of pain and pleasure and something else entirely. Something that would be mine the moment I claimed him completely.
With a final thrust, I buried myself to the hilt inside him. Both of us gasped at the same time. He arched off the cold stone floor, straining against the chains, every fiber of his being rebelling against my possession while betraying him with pleasure. I wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him still as I began to move within him.
The scent of sex and sin enveloped us as we moved together—a delicious combination of sweat and musk and desire that intoxicated me further. The soundtrack to our sordid lovemaking was an ominous symphony played by Hell’s orchestra—a cacophony of moans and groans that echoed off the walls around us.
My fingers dug into his hips as I pounded into him slowly at first before picking up speed. Ian’s back arched off the slab once more as he met my rhythm willingly now—his body giving in to its carnal needs even as he fought against losing himself to me fully.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” I growled, my thrusts relentless, merciless, the very embodiment of damnation.
I didn’t stop there. I had been waiting for this for too long, and I intended to savor every last second of Astaroth’s torment. My hands gripped his hips, leaving behind the imprint of my fingers, as I claimed him in body and in spirit.
“Fuck you,” he moaned, his eyes clenched tightly shut.
“Oh, my dear Astaroth.” I leaned in so my lips were mere centimeters from his ear. “You’re already fucked. And I intend to keep fucking you.”
With each thrust, he weakened, his struggles becoming less coordinated, less effective. The chains creaked and groaned, echoing his pain and pleasure.
My other hand roamed his chest, leaving behind a trail of bloody claw marks, branding him as mine. He arched his back, still straining, still rebellious, which presented his neck to me on a silver platter, willingly offering the most intimate of gestures.
I plunged my fangs into his neck, feeling the rush of warm, life-giving blood spill into my mouth. He tasted of sin and repentance, of the sins of the father being visited upon the son. His blood was ambrosia, a symphony upon my tongue.
His moans intensified, his ass bucking back against my hips in a desperate attempt to find his own release.
“You will not orgasm! Not until I allow it,” I roared, my voice echoing off the dungeon walls.
And as I held him on the precipice of ecstasy, savoring his agony, I pulled away, leaving him whimpering.
“Submit, Astaroth,” I growled, my voice a low, menacing rasp. “Submit, and I’ll make it good for you.”
He shook his head, a defiant gleam in his eyes. “Never.”
Anger surged within me, and I doubled my efforts, eliciting a strangled moan from him. I knew the signs of capitulation when I saw them, and Astaroth was so close, so very close to breaking.
“Is this what you want?” I hissed, changing angles, hitting that sweet spot deep within him that would unravel him. “You’re mine, Astaroth, and there’s nothing you can do about it!”
I reached around to stroke his hardened cock, my lips curling as I found him already weeping with need. His body couldn’t lie, even as he clung to his feeble resistance.
“You think you can resist me?” I grabbed his hair, forcing him to look me in the eye. “No one resists me, Ian. No one.”
My words hung in the air, a challenge and a promise. I locked my crimson gaze with his, searching for that delicious moment when defiance crumbled into submission, when the tension finally snapped, leaving only desperate compliance in its wake.
It wasn’t just about taking my pleasure. It was about proving my dominance, asserting my will, conquering completely. Every thrust, every calculated touch, served to obliterate his illusions of control.
I reveled in the reluctant moans spilling from his lips, each one a hard-won victory. His body trembled beneath my onslaught, caught between pain and ecstasy. I could practically taste his mounting desperation, the need for release warring with his stubborn pride.
With a particularly brutal snap of my hips, something shattered inside him. A ragged gasp tore from his throat as he arched against me, his resistance finally slipping away. I drank in the sight of his surrender, the way his eyes glazed over with a mask of lust and defeat.
This was my true power—the ability to bring even the most defiant to their knees, to make them crave the torments I inflicted. Ian was no different. In the end, they all bent to my will.
I lost myself to the primal rhythm, chasing my own release with a single-minded focus. The sounds of flesh against flesh echoed obscenely in the chamber, punctuated by Ian’s helpless cries and my own grunts of satisfaction.
He screamed my name, his hips jerking wildly, betraying the fact that he was close to the edge of oblivion. And then, with a final thrust, I released him from his self-imposed torment, burying myself to the hilt once more.
I fisted his cock. “Come now.”
His body convulsed almost violently, his essence spilling over my fist as I wrung every last drop of pleasure from him. I followed soon after, marking him with my seed, claiming him in the most basic way.
As the lust dissipated, I withdrew from his spent form, a sinister chuckle rumbling in my chest. “You’re mine now, Ian,” I purred, trailing a possessive hand down his sweat-slicked chest. “Body and soul. Never forget that.”
I stepped back, my breathing steady as Astaroth slumped against the chains, his demon form twitching with the aftermath of release. His expression was unreadable, his body tense and trembling. I tilted his chin up with a finger.
“You’ll remember who you belong to now, won’t you?” I said softly, my words laced with menace.
Astaroth glared at me, his golden gaze still flickering with defiance. “Go to hell,” he muttered.
I laughed, the sound rich and mocking. “Darling, we’re already here.”
Satisfied, I released him from the chains with a flick of my wrist. His battered body collapsed onto the bloodied stone slab.
“Heal up.” I watched him twitch with great satisfaction. “We’re not done yet.”
As I strode out of the chamber, my confidence was unshaken, but a small, nagging thought lingered. Why hadn’t he broken completely? I had dominated him physically, but his spirit had remained unbroken, resistant to my will. Pushing the thought aside, I stepped into the obsidian corridor, the symphonic screams of the damned resuming their chorus.
No one escaped me. They all succumbed in the end. Ian’s submission was inevitable. It was only a matter of time before I shattered his resolve completely.