Page 7 of Prince of Lust

Asmodeus lifted me by my neck.

I kicked weakly, barely struggling. All the blood pooled into my cock, abandoning my head. I quickly grew light-headed. The world fogged and blurred. I couldn’t breathe. A glimpse of its true nature, I thought. A revelation.

The demon leaned forward. Its breath, half vile and half sweet, loped into my open mouth and coated the roof.

“You don’t call me that name,” it told me. Ordered me. “You are an ant to me. A toy. An object to be used.”

“No,” I wheezed, nodding feebly. “No, of course not. I’m sorry.”

The demon’s grip tightened. “Address me by my title. Prince of Lust. That is my name to you, slut. “

I started babbling, gasping air as my voice cracked. “Yes, yes. Prince of Lust. My Prince…”

“Good boy,” the prince said. Without further ceremony or questioning, it threw me roughly to the side. I hit stone and started to crawl away on instinct, exposed and panting hard. I will admit a bit of ego seeped into me then because I thought, what am I doing? What am I doing?

I was full of fear. I had summoned something dangerous, lustful, ravenous. I knew innately it would not leave before it had come for what I had called it to do.

I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t eager. Neither did I want to pretend. Besides, there was no point. Both myself and the demon knew what I wanted. I saw the prince staring at me, low knowing look glinting in those dark eyes.

All I had to do was surrender. Be the slut I had always known myself to be. Forget everything I had been taught about being chaste and good and boring. I was sick of it.

My vestments were torn. A button lay outside the pentagram circle, ripped away from my chest. Would it tear the rest of my clothes off me, I wondered? Did I want it to?

I looked back over my shoulder and ,teasingly, I began to spread my legs.

The prince chuckled. The sound made my heart race. Pathetic—I heard that somewhere deep in my skull, but I don’t know whose voice it was. Bishop Jonah, or my own squirming morality. I don’t know whether the Prince of Lust himself had said it because the way it looked at me was scathing.

The demon stepped forward and wrenched my head back by my hair. Blood drizzled from my scalp where its claws scratched me. A few sapless sounds edged out from my lips; I arched towards the force of its hand.

Once again, it asked me, “What do you want?”

I knew what to say this time. I bit my lip and rolled my eyes as far back into my skull as I could, hoping to see the prince’s eyes. Like that, straining and shaking, I spoke.

“You.”

The demon smiled. “Good.”

Four

It did not wait.

I realised later that it could have taken me at any point. That everything until now was a curious game of consent—or perhaps something baser, like a play at humiliation. There was a vulnerability in asking for it, begging for it. The first time I had ever spoken the truth so willingly.

I knew immediately it would want me like that again. Pathetic and begging and praying until I was invoking it the way I would God.

The prince dropped my head and moved its hands to my waist. I sighed, eyes rolling closed. Those hands wrapped all the way around me, fingers nearly able to lace together. But it slowly pressed its claws into my abdomen, pressing so firmly the organs began to bulge around the demon’s fingers.

It will gut you, I thought. Bishop Jonah thought. It will gut you. It will fuck your insides. It will leave you to die.

I imagined briefly what that would be like. The vivisection, belly torn open, and organs exposed and steaming. I imagined pain giving way to a perverse pleasure, a cock slipping over the looping heat of my intestines, and I found myself wondering if it would keep my vessel holy. If this kind of desecration, where my ass remained unfucked, and my cock untouched, would still allow me to take God’s love and hold it firmly in my hands.

Heaven won’t touch you. Not when you want this so badly.

The prince could do whatever it wanted to me. I was helpless to stop it—a thrilling thought. I was prey, then; my mind slipped towards that instinct. With my heart thundering and my back growing slick with panicked sweat, I let my mind fall towards prey instinct.

The demon let go of my waist and dragged its hooked nails over my back. Fabric ripped as the vestments were shredded, and the skin beneath it flayed back, too. I startled forward with a hiss and was quickly yanked back into position.

“Stay still,” it told me. I stayed still.

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