Page 12 of Lake of Sin

“Oh, pardon me!” he said, and his voice had a honey warmth to it. Jovially, Vassago swung his arms out and walked across the threshold. The door closed gently behind him without so much as a wave towards it.

Vassago’s eyes flashed to me and then to my hand, which I held away from my body. Droplets of blood were gathering at my feet.

“Well, that won’t do, will it?” he murmured, still smiling. “Come, Alessandro. Come and sit!”

He took me very gently by the forearm. Beneath his touch, my body was as brittle as a sheet of ice and just as cold. I walked where he directed me, and I sat on the waiting bed, arm resting in his lap.

“Are you alright?” the Prince asked me.

I had said nothing, though I felt the blood had drained from my face. How alright could I be about being treated with kindness by a demon? I couldn’t trust it.

I said eventually, “You know my name?”

“Oh, yes.” His hand dashed into his tunic, and from it, he pulled free a missive, which he waved at me, the thick parchment warbling from the movement. “Our King Asmodeus Itself has warned me of your approach. You’ve been quite exceptional so far, haven’t you?”

“Warnedyou?” I picked my words carefully, but I couldn’t help but snag on that.

A warm smile bloomed beneath Vassago’s moustache. No hint of malice clouded its eyes. “That’s right. I do believe we have a lot of work to cover. Why don’t I take my clothes off?”

Vassago began to stand, and my stomach dropped. “It doesn’t have to be. A lot of work, I mean. If you were to use me as you saw fit, then I?—”

“Well, it’s not aboutusing, is it?” Vassago freed himself from his fur-lined cape. It fell to the ground in a heavy heap. Vassago looked at me, brown eyes narrowing. “I was told you wanted to be pleasured. That you were brazen enough to petition Asmodeus for reciprocal touch. Have I been misinformed?”

I shook my head and told him the truth. It all came out in one great rush. I sat there naked, exposed on the bed, feeling that everything was far too human and familiar for me to be acting as I was. At any moment, I feared someone I knew might walk through those doors and see me. I feared everything had been a dream, and I would wake in the monastery alone and untouched for eternity.

“I’m frightened of such a touch. I had a moment of lucidity, I believe: a blip where I knew the best whore for Asmodeus would be a man who knows his own pleasure, his own body, that it might be used by the Prince of Lust more intentionally. I am doing this because Lord Asmodeus saved my life. The least I can do is ensure a human is perfectly settled to their new role.”

Vassago barely shifted. “Whattype of touch frightens you?”

And I said, “A loving one.”

Vassago’s fingers moved to pop the first three buttons of his doublet open. The tan flesh beneath burst with black chest hair. He held my gaze and gently lifted my chin with his finger. Vassago’s face drew very close. Raspberries and cinnamon, his scent was. . .far too sweet for a demon.

And he asked me: “Do you want to beraped, Alessandro?”

I jolted back away from his touch, but I held his gaze, and without thinking, I had a dozen visions flooding my weak mind. I imagined Vassago with his hands around my throat. I imagined kicking weakly as his strength picked me up, and turned me, and held me down. His weight would crush me into the mattress of this bed, and in amongst its soft sheets and pillows, I could hide my face. How much easier would it be to cry out if I had theexcuse of pain? I could hide my desire and justify my shame in the one act; a facsimile of rape meant to shield me from my own fears.

Cold doused me.

Is that what I had been doing all this time? I had opened myself immediately to rough, violent fucking, and yet I grew frightened by the thought of sweet touches. That intimacy was far worse than the intimacy of giving my body over to be used.

Vassago was saying, “It’s a fantasy I wouldn’t be averse to indulging, but it would only be a fantasy. I enjoy consent the most.”

I blinked at him, and likely, he could see or smell my fear. Vassago sat back down beside me and took my bleeding hand in both of his. The warmth from his touch made my heart race.

“What is it thatyouwant, Alessandro?”

I fought the urge to claim I didn’t know what I wanted. I closed my eyes and thought and sat with the uncomfortable dread pooling in my belly. I wanted to be had and used and fucked to the point of oblivion. At the same time, I wanted to be taken care of and treated kindly—even if this frightened me.

I told Vassago, “I want to. . . I want to be able to enjoy myself. I want to feel pleasure. I enjoy being told what to do, but I also wish I knew—whatIwanted for myself.”

Vassago waited in silence, and I dredged up more things to tell it.

“I’ve never. . .” I flushed to the point my cheeks hurt with their burn. “Why does this feel so horrible?”

Vassago made a low, soft noise and dragged its hands away from my own. His fingers grazed my palm, and not even an ounce of pain flared beneath the touch: the wound was healed. Vassago reached up and placed his hand upon my cheek, thumbing gently at my face. It was hard to look at him. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done.

“Hidden secrets reside in your subconscious,” he whispered. “Why don’t we look?”

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