Page 62 of Unholy Fate

“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 momentwhen 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.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

IAN

The chains bitinto my wrists as I gritted my teeth, determined not to give Lucifer the satisfaction of hearing me scream this time. His red taloned hands worked me over with deliberate, brutal precision, rending flesh from bone. The pain was excruciating, all-consuming. He’d been at it for hours. At least it felt that way.

But as the agony pushed me to the brink, memories surfaced unbidden, dragging me back to a time centuries ago when my defiance burned hot and my will was still my own.

I stood alone in the vast throne room of Hell, my body aching from the marks of Tartarus’ chains. My brothers had already bent the knee, but I remained resolute, seething with righteous fury hotter than the flames dancing around me.

Lucifer approached, his presence radiating magnetism and raw power. “Menoetes, you’re too clever to waste eternity in rebellion,” he purred, each word dripping with silky persuasion. “Serve me, and you’ll find freedom like no other.”

A harsh laugh escaped my lips. “Freedom? You mean servitude.”

He drew nearer to me until the heat emanated from his crimson flesh warmed my skin. “You mistake me for the gods who bound you. I don’t demand chains. I offer desire, power, everything you’ve ever wanted.”

His fingers traced along my jaw, and I flinched instinctively, but didn’t pull away. Something in the air shifted, the shadows growing longer, the atmosphere more intimate.

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