2. Chapter Two

2

CHAPTER TWO

I woke on cold, black marble, in a room of cathedral arches and sprawling majesty. The only light burned from snarling braziers, and in the fog of wakefulness and low-light, I relied not on sight, but scent. A stench like sulphur and sex pervaded the room despite its high ceilings. As my eyes adjusted, I saw that my impish captors lingered in the rafts above as little more than stout, gargoyle-like shadows. They chittered occasionally to one another, but none made any attempts to swoop at me, not even when I pressed up on my knees and looked about.

I was bruised. Annoyed. I was as willing as any human could have hoped to be in this place, and my eagerness had yet to be rewarded. My nakedness felt so akin to vulnerability, and with the frigid marble biting my knees, the first creeping fog of regret began to edge into my mind.

The room itself was austere and inhuman. The far wall had clearly been made from the same stone I had seen in the distant city. It dripped sleek black down to the marble as if the stone had been melted and cooled like magma. Beneath this melting affair of stone, a cluster of jagged rocks gathered into something resembling a chair. A throne.

Then, shooting out from either side came semi-circle seating, a far distance up this great wall. From my low vantage, I could see no way to climb them. Vaguely, it resembled a courtroom, with these stands high up and out of reach. Or perhaps Rome's Colosseum, with an audience gathered to watch my bloody demise. As my eyes settled, I became aware of shadows in the seats, bright eyes watching me. More imps.

"What?" I croaked out. I sat pathetic and small with my hands covering my limp cock, feeling more alone than ever. The sound of my voice spooked the imps, who all began to roar. I shrunk back timidly, watching them jump and whoop in the stands. Above me, the four-winged imps who had carried me here dove down. They dashed forward towards the braziers and, one by one, lit the ends of their tails with fire. The scent of burning flesh filled my nostrils. Instinctively, my body curled in on itself. But they did not fly towards me.

Instead, they took position, forming a kind of circle in the air. Their tails dropped down like hanging lanterns and, from this new light, I could see something had been carved on the ground.

A sigil.

I was no master of the dark arts. I had fumbled my way into Hell, groping at my body and flesh. In the strange carving, I could only recognise the feeling in my gut whenever something occult occurred. My eyes burned. I clenched my fist. Old habits made my mouth run dry at the sight.

"What am I to do?"

My voice came out still hoarse. I wet my lips and asked the question again. Nothing was said, but from the dark stands, something whistled towards me. I flinched just as a dagger splintered the marble, its hilt wobbling from the force of the precise throw. My body moved to pick it up, but my mind was on Asmodeus; on the way I had drawn blood from myself that night, coated my cock with it, fucked up into the sticky palm of my hand chanting its name. Come to me, I had thought.

And now I was crawling to the Prince of Lust. But to get to it, I had to face this trial first.

I pushed my body forward and pressed my hand over the sigil, feeling the grooves beneath my fingertips. They were thankfully shallow, and as the imps waited for me, I picked up the dagger, raised my arm over the carving, and slit open the palm of my hand.

Barely any blood fell. I squeezed out the drops I could, and as I watched them fall, I thought: this will take too long . Add to this my humanness and the fact I could still feel pain, and my commitment began to waver in the long minutes it took for my blood to coat the sigil.

Then, hypnotic and deep, I heard the rumble of my new God in the depths of my mind, urging me onward.

Come to me, little priest. Prove your worth .

Emboldened by the voice of Asmodeus, I took the sharp dagger and dragged it over my forearm, splitting deep in the skin. Blood flowed more freely. I grit my teeth, bore it, and cried out, "Malphas, President of Hell! I summon thee! I want thee!"

The room hummed with approval. The imps stamped with their feet, and the room's structure shook, the very stone resonating and vibrating as if with glee. A light split through from the distant ceiling, so bright I had to shield my eyes against the onslaught, and raucous cheering went up around me. When the light finally faded, I peeled back my hand.

The black seat was now occupied.

There, half slumped in my own blood and sweat, with cold marble pressing against my body, I bore witness to Malphas for the first time.

The creature was unique. Humanoid in some respects and animalistic in others. Its head was that of a raven. An inky-blue down of feathers covered its neck and tickled the top of its chest, which became human in appearance, though its skin maintained a strange leather-like quality, the flesh glistening a deep midnight blue. For the parts of its body that were human, it was large and muscular—not as impressive as Asmodeus, of course, but more spectacular than any human male I had ever come across. My eyes raked down its body, which, even from the distance and the low light, stood out to me. If the demon itself was large—I guessed it would stand at about eight feet when it stood—my eager and salacious mind wanted to see whether other parts of it would be proportionate.

So, I looked.

I dropped my gaze to between its log-like thighs and saw the twitching bulge of its exposed cock. Perhaps the width of my forearm, as substantial as the cocks those two lesser demons had ravished me with. My heart pounded. I barely had to think, barely had to consider what it would feel like to have that pressing inside me before my own nether region stirred to life, heat gathering in a taut ball behind my stomach.

Fuck.

The room filled with ragged breathing, anticipation wet and dewy like morning mist. I did not move from my outstretched position, unsure of myself. Should I get up? Should I bow to it? My mind was so overrun with anxious questions that I became impotent, save, naturally, for my hardening cock.

When the demon exhaled, the room rumbled, and the imps practically screamed.

Its voice sounded gravely, low as if coated in dirt and mud. Every word it spoke was deliberately slow. "I am Malphas," it announced, "the mighty Great President of Hell, who commands forty legions of demons. Thou art mine summoner; thou has't called me to appear. For what purpose?"

Sound bled from the room. The imps were silent again. I could hear nothing save for the crackling of the braziers and the small flames still alight at the end of the flying imps' tails. Aside from this, I perfectly heard the sound of my frightened, anticipatory heart running in my chest. I pushed up and crawled forward until I had pulled my body over the bloody grooves of the sigil and could splay myself in genuflection at the demon's feet.

"Great Malphas," I said, fumbling for an epithet. "My prince has ordered me to go to it. Your King. I must prove myself to it."

Malphas seemed to look at me more carefully than before. Its raven-head cocked to the side, bird eyes blinking eerily. "How has't thou been charged to proveth thyself?"

I—froze. This felt somehow like a trap. Too frightened to meet its gaze, I said, "I am nothing, great Lord."

It chuckled then, very briefly, and the imps laughed with it, abruptly cutting themselves off when Malphas grew silent. "Obviously," it said, voice stretching.

I swallowed. This wasn't right—not how I expected this to go. The feeling that I was somehow on trial consumed me, and the collective gaze of the imps became judgemental. I bowed my head lower and told it: "I gave up my earthly life to become Asmodeus' toy. I summoned it into my abbey and let it ruin me. It vanquished my love for God and my faith, and I could think of nothing else but the pleasure it brought, and so I entered Hell willingly. But I forgot myself. I forgot my place. To Asmodeus, I am just another body it might use for its pleasure, another mortal corrupted by its power. I wish to prove myself and to do so, I must climb the ranks. The lesser demons sent me on this path: to the Presidents, the Knights, the Earls, Marquises, Princes, and Dukes—before I get to the King of this circle, Asmodeus itself."

The raven-head Malphas opened its mouth, splitting the black beak in two. A snake-like tongue hissed out of its mouth as it said, darkly amused, "And dost thou wish me to fuck thee?"

The imps erupted into petulant, scalding laughter. I flinched from the sound—their screeching finger-pointing, their jeering, their stamping upon the stone. Even the four that had flown me in began to giggle and point. How. . .embarrassing.

I was a fool, to some extent. I had thought one dangerous fuck split over two demonic cocks would be enough to squash the root system of shame in my body. But these knots were convoluted, and even the pleasure I got from being used seemed not enough to stop me from feeling it. I thought of God. I thought of the bishops and the priests I had left behind and betrayed. I imagined what they were thinking of me now, how they might be damning my very memory for all I had done. My chest burned. I tried to resolve my expression and return to pious neutrality, but Malphas clapped its hands together, and the thunderous boom silenced everything.

Its throat bobbed as it talked. The sound that emerged was sluggish, each word fighting to reach my ears. "What petulant, vain thinking thee display," Malphas grumbled. "To think I, great Malphas, servant to the fallen angels, our demon lords, would'st e'er wish to sully myself by inserting my member into human filth. But neither am I able to betray the intentions o' the King Asmodeus, the Prince o' Lust, who ruleth the circle in which I live. I find myself at a great impasse," it said, "and I shall punish thee for it."

It was like lacerating a cyst. Anticipation had gathered in a hot, tight ball beneath the shared skin of us all, and Malphas' words struck at my very centre and split me apart. Punishment, however painful, promised pleasure. And for the demons here, all gathered to watch a show, my humiliation was all but guaranteed.

I craned up to meet Malphas' gaze. Unimpressed, eyes blank and uncaring, I saw no desire to have me in the raven-black stare. As if I was little more than an inconvenience, it made a gesture in the air.

Everything happened at once. First, the stands packed tightly with imps flared to life again. I could feel the quickening pulse of that mad crowd, and my own heart sped up to match it. Above me, the four imps squealed with glee. They broke from their formation and began to circle me, their tails whipping through the air and snuffing out their flames. A new darkness descended. My eyes had adjusted only slightly, so I could barely pick up any details from their bodies as they dashed down upon me.

Their small, firm hands tugged at my limbs. Each of the four took an arm or a leg and stretched me until I was helplessly splayed out, exposing my naked torso to the view of every one of the creatures in the stands and Malphas itself. It gave a low hum of approval. Even without words, my body instinctively understood praise. It was exhilarating. My body burned. Malphas spoke in some infernal language I couldn't comprehend, this quick barking order. The imps heeded the command instantly, and from this horizontal stretch they had pulled me into, they flew directly upright. Two let go of my legs and moved out of my periphery. Within seconds, I hung vertically from my arms, lower body dangling in the air. At this higher vantage, I overlooked the cheering stands of imps.

I locked eyes with the great President. Too much sound occurred; the delight of the imps came in shouts and cries, and my heart raced. I shivered in humiliation. But I could hear Malphas clearly when it spoke.

"I see what thee used to be. For e'ry degenerative act thou hast committed in this hellish pit, thy time in the cloth still clings to thee. I sense mine own brethren tried to fill thee withal their seed, if just to abate the stench o' godliness and purity thee surrounded thyself in for so long. But I can smell it still. Thou reeks."

I watched Malphas stand slowly. The creaking of its body echoed throughout the hall, muffled only faintly by the impish squall. As it stood and its body lengthened, I saw I had been right. It stood about seven feet tall, and it walked over to my suspended position with unblinking eyes.

"I can not let thee pass through mine own realm and into that o' the King Asmodeus withal thy past still wafting off thy flesh. And so I shall deposit upon thy skin and into thy orifice the seed o' many lesser demons, to weaken the stench. And though I shall not enter thee, I shall gift thee withal mine own seed, as it is the wish o' mine own Lord. In return, thou shalt scream and cry and beg for it. Thou shalt hark to what I know o' thy holy brethren; o' the things they desire. Thou shalt hark to this as mine own imps defile thee. Dost thou understand this?"

All the blood was rushing from my arms to my groin. Heat tugged together in my stomach, and my cock twitched in answer. "Yes," I said, somewhat breathlessly—though perhaps not truthfully. Listening to Malphas' dark knowings as I was defiled would be difficult. Had I really considered the actuality of the information it would share with me?

What did I fear if I learned the desires of Bishop Fazio, or Bishop Jonah, or the young and beautiful Oliviero, who, no doubt, had learned of my demise in the Cave of the Sibyl?

Two things came to mind. First, they knew of my real nature and what I had done to Bishop Fazio. This would only be possible if they had managed to roll away the blockage that had sealed mine and the bishop's body in the cave, and perhaps their faith in my goodness would allow them to craft some other fantasy that might override the grim reality. That a demon had caused it all to happen. That the cave was full of evil. That it was a mouth to Hell and all inside had occurred without the actions of a desperate whore—the locals already believed this, as Bishop Fazio had told me.

If this wasn't the true reason I felt fear, then only the second option remained: that others in the abbey harboured forbidden desires as obscene as my own, and I had squandered my time in two ways. I could have had them, and they could have had me.

I feared that not only had I waited too long, but I had waited for no good reason.

I shivered at the thought, and roughly, I was called back to the present moment by something pressing into my mouth.

I opened wide on instinct, but it was not Malphas' member nor that of an imp. As my vision cleared and my senses returned, I felt the long-nailed fingers of Malphas encompassing my head. Its hand was pressed against my face, and something had split from its palm—a long, fleshy thing that was pushing down my throat.

I gagged. My body revolted, spasming around the intrusion. Little air made it in. and as I writhed, kicking the air weakly, with Malphas' body too far for me to reach, I thought: am I dying?

"Ah, those hags discovered thee," Malphas said. Whatever part of its body was in my throat writhed, and I groaned, choking pathetically around it. The saliva in my mouth began to spill from my lips. "Thou hast eaten from mine own realm."

Oh- I tried to speak. Indistinct and muffled sound spilled wetly from my throat. Malphas hushed me and cupped my face with a gentle touch.

"'tis not this I shall punish thee for, for the act o' indulgence is not sinful. Nought thee could do in the way o' desire is worthy o' punishment in this place. But now that thou hast eaten and thy mortal flesh is settled, thou art one o' Hell's creatures. There is no turning back for thou. I must rid thee o' thy priestly scent all the more."

Then, roughly, it pulled its flesh out of me. Thick, stringy saliva fell from my mouth. My throat was raw, and when I gasped, the air felt scalding against the scraped internal flesh. Malphas made a noise like a low chuckle and patted my cheek, though not gently. Coughing, I gasped for air again. "What—what was that?"

I watched as something resembling a meaty tube retreated into Malphas' palm, which sported a gaping human-like mouth. The skin of the palm puckered around it, forming makeshift lips, and it was toothless. But the tube, with its wet opening, slid slickly back into the gash. I whimpered. Malphas groaned at whatever look took over my face and gripped my chin hard.

"These imps are lesser demons in many ways, little human," it rumbled. The cheers in the stand took on a new kind of sound, a fretful, eager noise—whooping, a clicking of tongues that sounded faintly like animals scratching at doors. Malphas said, "Where many named denizens o' Hell wert servants and followers o' the angels who fell, imps themselves wert born in Hell itself. Their minds are made entirely o' sin. They do best withal orders, withal encouragement, near mindless is their existence. And so I have given them an order."

Without further explanation, it stepped back and returned to its earlier position, sinking that thick, resplendent body into the stone chair, and in the low light, its skin glinted like black opal, and I could see God's make in its body. I could see how it had once been a servant of Heaven and how its form would have frightened any normal mortal, and more than that, I understood implicitly how insignificant humanity was. The muscular arms and legs of Malpahs spread, and its thick cock grew hard. Its black eyes remained open, deep tar pits that flowed out to me, glinting like the night sky.

"Prove thyself," Malphas commanded.

And the imps descended.