Page 18 of Hell and Its Pleasures

Its compatriot stood stouter, its form misshapen and gargoyle-like. The face was bulbous, almost a ram’s, but with undeniable human features that flung the whole thing into upsetting uncanny territory. It had both horns and tail that reminded me of its master—our master—Asmodeus, though it lacked the Prince’s grandeur. The eyes on this creature were feline-like, the pupils pressed thin, and they glowed with the iridescence of a cat at night stalking prey. Beneath its gaze, I shivered, and another part of my body stirred. It assessed me as I assessed it: I took in its muscled form, which made its arms wide and its trunk thick, though its lower ribs pressed through the flesh when it inhaled. Its tail was thick and smooth, without the trident tip Asmodeus’ possessed, and the first wicked thought I had was about that thing pulsing inside me. How it might feel wriggling and warm as it worked its way inside.

I flushed, and both demons cackled. The whole church echoed that laughter back, and a confusing deluge of emotion flooded me. Shame and embarrassment, and then the monstrous delight of seeing these demons as they were, their desire plain and devoted.

“Tell me again,” I said, for my own benefit. “Tell me what you have to do. Tell me what you mean to accomplish by touching me now.”

“We will make you a vessel for his pleasure,” the first demon said.

“A wanting, greedy whore.”

“God and church and sacrilege and fear still steal your attention.”

“Which won’t do for our debauched prince,” the second assured me.

“If you are to be his toy?—"

“—then you must be his completely.”

The first, the taller of the two, moved forward. It outstretched an arm—I realised then it had four that I could see—and pressed the sharp nail of its thumb beneath by chin, edging me up to look at its eyes. “But you will have to move through the ranks before you can reach the Prince again.”

I shivered and waited for more. Here is what they revealed to me:

That Hell had a complex hierarchy. That they were demons so low they had been given no names. That the lowest named tier were the Presidents of Hell, above which came the Knights, then the Earls, the Marquises, the Princes, the Dukes, and the Kings; and that Asmodeus, though named a Prince ofLust, was a King of Hell in his own right. One of nine. They told me that I had not seen Asmodeus in its true form, for I was not yet worthy of it, and that how it had appeared to me on earth was only a shadow of its usual glory and power.

They said that I would need to prove myself to Asmodeus; that it could see all of me and what I experienced as I wandered through its realm. I did not know if they were lying and could not ascertain whether demon loyalty to their Kings was as righteous as I hoped. But in the end, even if theywerelying, I reasoned that this had been what I wanted.

Sex.

And even if part of my heart longed for Asmodeus, a baser and more feral part of my soul desired anything that would have me.

Snakes hissed and writhed around the pillars, and the braziers burned hotter. Incense clogged the air, reminding me of holy sermon; if I closed my eyes, part of me felt as I hadonce in amongst my brethren, deep in prayer, waiting for God to touch me. But it wouldn’t be God who touched me now.

Two sets of hands pressed upon my skin with an eagerness that had me shivering.

“Open your legs,” one commanded, and I did it without thinking. I spread them as best I could whilst hanging from my bloodied palms, feet scrabbling for a foothold in the air and against the splinter-filled crucifix.

Both demons pressed forward and each took a leg, which they pushed high, high into the air, folding me so that my feet were pressed up near my hands, my legs spread wide and my cock and hole exposed. I flushed—and then realised they meant to suspend me there.

“W-wait!”

They did not wait, and two sharp bolts of pain shuddered through me again as they nailed my feet to the wood.

My entire body convulsed. The feeling was confusing. Layers of dread and pain washed over me, and the sparks of sadistic pleasure throbbed beneath them. It hurt. The animal part of brain wanted it to stop. But me, Alessandro, who had done so much already to come here? To have these creatures laughing, slapping at my pale thighs, teasing the underside of my twitching cock with their long-nailed fingers?

That me. . .almostlikedit.

Sticky blood dripped from my hands and feet and ran down my arms. My breathing became erratic; I looked down at the hungry eyes of the demons, fear and desire both competing for a place in my stomach.

“Hush, little lamb,” the taller one said.

The other moved forward silently. “Let us remove the dredges of your faith from you.”

I felt God in me, then, the way He had never been. This lingering remnant of the Holy Spirit, now a corruptive force rather than a shield or a protector. Years of teachings andshame of my true nature still clung to me—one good fuck by the Prince of Lust, one measly murder, one giving up of one’s old life—none of it was quite enough to dislodge something as insidious as shame.

But at the end of this, whateverthiswas, the pair of these demons promised I would have no regrets.

There was nothing else to be done.

I do not think they needed my consent, and yet they seemed to wait for it. They wanted me to commit to this with honesty and glee. In the end, it was an easy thing to offer.

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