9. Chapter Nine

9

CHAPTER NINE

I lay there feeling sorry for myself for what felt like eons.

I had never—well, I'd never encountered this before and was unsure of the risks. I waited in vain for my body to heal itself, as all things had so far in Hell, but the canal remained as it was: turned inside out, pink and raw.

After an hour or so, the feeling changed. Concern no longer bothered me. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more my flaccid cock twitched to life.

I had been used so thoroughly, so completely, that my body had broken. A demolition of my insides, which spilled out of me. It aroused me, the knowledge that my body had been reduced to this. I put my hand between my legs and squeezed my cock, deciding slowly—perhaps not even consciously—to pleasure myself lying in the aftermath of Furcas' orgasm.

When I came, I expected the bliss to buckle to shame, as it often did. I expected pain to start up suddenly in my abdomen—but again, there was none.

Part of me thought I should try to stuff it back inside me, but another thought there were more blissful ways for that to happen. So it was that I stood like that, sweating and flushed and prolapsed, and made my way onwards.

I recounted my journey thus far. The lesser demons, the president, and the knight.

The next trial I was to face was an Earl of Hell.

I had only the hope it would be somewhat kind—a stupid and childish thought, given what I'd already encountered in Hell. But I set out stumbling, my body shivering with ecstasy.

I had to jump from the flimsy wooden structure and onto the cliff that had risen from nothingness. Slick black stone faced me with multiple jagged handholds, and a platform of rock jutted out towards me. Overhead from this platform, the cliff sloped downwards, but I caught a glimpse of what I assumed was a path.

That way , my heart said. I hesitated at the ledge, afraid of leaping and the way it might hurt my already sore body, but with nothing else to do, I embraced the possibility of my demise and leapt.

My feet met the other side with a grunt, half slipping on the wet rock. The air chilled my body, and I became acutely aware of my nether region, which still pulsed with that confused mix of excitement and discomfort. Ignoring it, I got to my feet and began to climb onto the new path.

The landscape changed immediately. Gone was the deadly red grass and trembling structure that had housed Furcas. In its place spanned a black ocean, traversable only by a tenuous rock bridge. I ignored the human fear at the height and the prospect of the fall and walked solemnly across the bridge. My destination was a blur. A wall of fog made it impossible to tell what lay in the distance, though I felt compelled to move forward regardless. Then, as I stepped into the mists, the temperature dropped. A brittle cold spiked through me. Clouds rolled in overhead, and the orange-red glow of Hell's eternal sunset turned a shade of grey. Thunder boomed. The sky lit up with sharp bursts of lightning. As the wind and a light rain began to pelt down upon me, I lowered myself to the ground and shivered in place. The thunder boomed closer. I slipped backwards, nearly toppling off the edge—and I heard laughter.

Move. You need to move .

This was simply another trial. Trust in the Lord —Asmodeus would not pit me against a trial it did not think I could overcome. I knew this in my heart of hearts, and I pulled myself back to my senses, standing braced for another gust of wind. Arm raised to shield my eyes, I moved as quickly as my body allowed, hobbling across the thin rock path and refusing to look down at the dark waves swirling beneath me. They crashed loudly against the base of this dangerous path, and even from this height, salt spray spritzed over my face. But it did not matter. I had to keep moving.

From the shadows, somewhere within the storm clouds, I heard that laughter again. It boomed like the thunder, deep and terrifying like a witch's cackle. With a maniacal edge to it, I imagined that's what it was: a witch, crazed, come to prevent my journey for whatever reason.

The fog had begun to clear, and I squinted through the storm, relieved to see that the thin stone bridge widened and spilled into a structure that looked suspiciously man-made: perfect stone, a platform surrounded by crags that sprouted from the mountain. Walled-in on either side, it gave the appearance of something safe. Faintly, I could see the ground shimmer as part of it dipped unevenly, but the platform rock appeared too perfectly smooth for this to be a natural divot.

That—was a sigil!

" Who are you?" I shouted at the next bark of laughter. And then, " I must see an Earl of Hell!"

"There are no Earls of Hell," it shouted. "No Earls who would see a human, either! There is nothing here for you! Nothing, nothing! "

A contradiction. I would have reasoned more, but the storm was growing—I ran full speed to the supposed safety of the platform, ignoring the danger of the wet rock and the discomfort in my lower body. Safety first. Adrenaline drowned out all other messages.

The cackling turned sour, almost fearful. The voice, which had been deep, raised several octaves. "Flee from this place! You are in danger!"

I ignored it.

Again, the voice came, "If you step there, you will die! You will die immediately!"

It sounded sincere. Its voice cracked, and it whined like a wounded animal. The voice went high and pained, the cry swallowed by the violent waves and the sound of the growing storm. I still could not see this thing, but I knew, as certainly as I knew my true nature, that this thing was deceiving me.

This one—most certainly a demon—I had not summoned, though as I grew closer to the platform, I confirmed that waiting for me was its sigil. Whether my blood would summon the Earl or bind this one to listen to me, I did not know. Was it an Earl? If so, why this charade?

In the end, it did not matter to me. Demons were deceivers. I had known that my whole life, and I still recalled it at that moment: humanity was not well-liked here, no matter if parts of me had use to them.

The path to the platform widened, and my stomach rushed up into my throat with sudden relief. Too soon—I heard the air hiss at my back and I turned in time to see a creature rushing me. I only caught a glimpse: a hart, with antlers long and shedding in red, ropey strings. It connected to a human-esque body covered in light brown fuzz, and an erect barbed cock poked towards me through the fur. At its back, two leathery wings sprouted, and a fiery tail whipped towards me, and the creature shrieked. Flame shot forward, and its eyes went wide with glee.

I slid away, rolling hard. Scrabbling up, I rushed to the sigil and threw myself to the knife, waiting poised on the ground. I slit the palm of my hand open and managed to slap it down onto the sigil just as two hands gripped at my ankles and wrenched me down.

I screamed and thrashed.

"You'll die here, stupid whore. You'll be ripped to shreds. I will throw your corpse to my armies and let them play with you until your body breaks apart; you will be fucked until you are a pile of bones crusted with the ejaculate of a thousand demons! I will destroy you! You should have never entered here!"

I tried to invoke Asmodeus—I said, " Asmo ? —"

"I have twenty-six legions of deprived demons ready for you. You cannot wander this land freely, human whore!"

"I belong to Asmodeus!" I howled.

I couldn't see its expression, but I felt the slackening of its grip. Half a second, maybe less; shock that registered in its body first. I did not wait. Viciously, I kicked out of its grasp and crawled back to the sigil. The cut on my hand was already stuffed with sand and dirt, clogged to the point it was not bleeding. The knife scraped the stone as I picked it up and ripped it across my forearm. The cut opened immediately. Blood spilled onto the sigil, and the demon behind me screamed with fury.

On my knees, I was at a standstill when I turned and saw it bolting towards me. Move . Move! But I didn't. I watched it rush me and did not even bring the knife up to my defence. Call it blood loss or a strange form of demonic worship, but I did not think once about my own wellbeing.

The demon's hoofed foot crossed the delineation of the sigil.

Everything went white.