Chapter 4

ChapterFour

IBLIS

My existence is a constant conflict zone.

Various cancers battle for dominance in my mind and body, trying to infect me and win the war.

Sins and virtues mingle in my mind as I struggle to cast one out and embrace the other. Lust and Chastity are the two that burn the brightest. Right now, for example, as my cock strains against my pants, all I can think about is sucking a cock while being fucked in the ass.

It never makes it better; it only perpetuates the cycle. If I were stronger, I’d cut my balls off to kill the dark desires within me.

“And if your eye causes you to sin, tear it out. It is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than with two eyes to be thrown into hell.”

Abaddon and Asmodeus hover over the girl. Her clothing marks her as a temptress, black leather hugging her curves. But the way her chest rises and falls mixes with the sweet contours of her face, which resembles the most pious of angels.

I’m a little shocked that the twins haven’t ravaged her yet. They have a penchant for wanting to mutilate and desecrate people and places they view as pure. Unlike me, they’ve accepted their place at the mouth of hell, the hope of salvation extinguished from their hearts. Yet a part of me is still desperate to save them, more than my need to save myself.

Abaddon’s blade glides up and down the beauty’s body, and I know it’s taking everything in him not to prick her with the tip. He licks his lips like a wolf about to devour a rabbit, knowing this meal will satiate him.

I see the need for blood in Asmodeus’ eyes. His lips part slightly, and he moves his tongue along his fang-shaped incisors. Abaddon may appear to be the most unhinged of the three of us, but it’s Asmodeus who is ruthlessly lethal. He takes a sick, twisted pleasure in causing slow, torturous pain as he strikes his blows. My mind flashes to the brutal way the two take care of enemies. Abaddon uses a saw to remove the limbs he finds desirable, while Asmodeus feasts on the living force of blood.

Asmodeus’ head shoots up, and his ethereal blue eyes glare at me. The same blue eyes of the little boy I met so long ago. Back then, his irises resembled a calm lake, but today, they’re turbulent oceans. I swear he’s obsessed at these moments. Satan dwells within him, beckoning me to him.

I step forward as shame consumes me because as hard as I try to avoid temptation, a part of me craves it like a junkie craves a needle full of heroin. My addiction to these men is an illness. I’m an addict who lies and says this is the last time, yet I return repeatedly for another hit. I don’t think about the future, damnation, or how I’ll be judged and persecuted. I only think about the moments they use me, and I’m free.

One foot moves in front of the other until I stand before Asmodeus. My heart races as he fists my shirt, and buttons fly around the room, exposing my bare chest. Panic rises as Asmodeus bends his head to my neck and digs his teeth into my flesh. Chills wrack my body as his warm tongue licks at the wound he’s inflicted, tasting my blood. “Don’t worry, slut. I’ll make sure it hurts.”

Blessed relief. One thing about being with the twins is that they know me to the bone. Their knowledge of my body, mind, and needs keeps me calm as they use me for gratification. I associate the pain and humiliation with penance for my sin. It allows me to partake in things I desperately crave and prevents me from falling into an abyss.

“Be a good boy and drop your pants,” Asmodeus demands.

My fingers shake, and my heart thunders as I undo my pants and let them fall to my feet.

“You know what I like about this?” Asmodeus asks as he squeezes the metal cilice around my upper thigh with one hand. “Easy access. It’s like a tap I can drink from any damn time I want.”

A moan escapes my lips as he presses down on the cilice, and his other hand grazes my balls.

“You want me to make you feel good, don’t you, Iblis?”

The lump in my throat prevents me from swallowing. It’s the same emotion I have every time the twins use me. A burning desire to be at their mercy, to taste their cum as it floods my mouth, to be called names as they use me. I want this, crave it, need it, but part of the humiliation for them, the thing they love the most is to hear me beg for my damnation.

The words want to funnel from my mouth like a whimpering prayer, but vocalizing it hurts my relationship with God. The fucked-up notion in my mind says if I don’t voice the sin, I can beg for forgiveness, but saying it out loud will put it in the world. But the twins don’t care. They crave the words.

Asmodeus rubs his thumb over the raised letters on my dick. A present of mercy and depravity. “You remember when I gave this to you?”

I’m in pain tonight. We killed five people.

Abaddon comes in with a bag of body parts; arms, legs, feet, and hands. He’s still high from the rush. Asmodeus is covered in a river of blood. I take them in, memorizing their tall frames, their faces shrouded in black ski masks, and all I want is to be used by them. To wash away all the pain inside my chest with that on my skin.

I fall on the floor, whimpering. I focus on my blood-stained palms.

Asmodeus falls to his knees in front of me. His hands cradle my face as he tells me we’re the product of our master and we do what he commands. Roads is not a monster; he’s hell personified. Since the age of eight, that man has made us witness and commit horrors most people would never experience.

But tonight, it was different.

Tonight was a baptism by the devil, a sacrament of the unholy. Tonight, we didn’t dabble with the dark. We became the embodiment of it.

“Look at me, Iblis.”

My eyes catch Asmodeus’ and silently beg him to ease my suffering. To dim the shrill sounds of their screams.

His large, tattooed hand caresses my head. It’s his way of showing compassion, something he rarely expresses. “You know I love you.”

I’m unsure if that’s true. I know the twins would kill for me—a miracle after what I’ve done to them. I nod, desperate to make his words true.

He wraps his hand around my throat and lifts me from the ground until I’m flush against him. He slams my back into the wall and holds me firm. We don’t speak. We just bask in the rush of his dominance and my submission.

“Take out your cock, slut.”

My fingers tremble like they always do when he orders me. It’s as if I’m under his trance, unable to refuse him anything. Part of me lies and says this is penance for creating him, but another part of me basks in his cruelty, knowing that I would whimper like a dog at his feet and thank him for kicking me.

Asmodeus looks down at my semi-hard cock. “Look at you, getting hard at the idea of being used like a cum rag. You’re pathetic, aren’t you, Iblis? A useless little fuck boy. Maybe I should offer your ass to random men on the street.”

His vile words ignite a ravenous flame in my gut that spreads like wildfire through my entire body. My hand glides up and down my flesh, pumping my cock, bringing it to full mast.

“Please, Mo,” I beg.

Asmodeus smirks as he pulls out one of his blades. This one is smaller than the one he used a few hours ago. Three inches max. “Open your mouth.”

A sense of relief floods me as my lips part. Asmodeus places the tip of the blade on my tongue before pushing it in further. Adrenaline rushes in my veins from the danger and excitement.

“Such a good little whore, Iblis. I bet if I shoved this knife in your tight ass, you’d squeal like a pig and love every moment.”

Pre-cum beads at the tip of my cock at the idea of being ruined by this man. I don’t think he’d ever go that far, but hearing him say it allows a small percentage of a chance, and that excites me.

Asmodeus glides the knife down my chest until he reaches my pelvic bone. I hiss as the tip of the knife pricks my skin. He presses the knife into my flesh, leaving a superficial wound in his wake. He pulls the tip out and gently grazes the top of my dick. The corner of his mouth turns up as he pulls my hand off my cock and grabs it himself. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

I stare into Asmodeus’ eyes, holding his stare, unsure of what’s happening. I scream, lost in a fog of pain as searing agony ricochets through me. I have a moment of reprieve before the pain returns in full force. Chills crawl up my body like marching ants, followed by a sense of calm where I’m floating on a cloud of bliss.

I don’t look at my throbbing cock or worry about my lightheadedness. I fall back and stare at the ceiling with its peeling stucco and water stains. I think about how this is the same as when the needle got stuck in my arm, and euphoria flooded my veins. This is the feeling I’d sacrifice everything for. Utopia.

A jolt of fresh pain consumes me, and I’m yanked back to reality. Abaddon kneels in front of me. His hand squeezes my balls without mercy as his thumb rubs against the raised scar of his brother’s initials on my hard, throbbing cock. “I believe my brother asked you to beg, slut.”

“Please, Abaddon. Use me. All I long to be in this world is your pathetic fuck toy. Punish me for all I’ve done. Show me that all I’m good for is to be your cum dump.”

A sound between a moan and a scream falls from my lips as Abaddon bites down on my cock. My body transcends time and space to another realm where everything I’ve done no longer matters. The pain is almost better than cumming because the agony washes away the past, present, and future. At this moment, I’m not a bastard who abolished everything good in his life. I don’t have to feel or think. I’m simply a vessel of pleasure—my own and theirs.

“You have any idea how hot it is that you stay so hard under torture?” Abaddon asks after popping my dick out of his mouth. “You’re such a good boy.”

Being called a “good boy” is the equivalent of a poor man winning the lottery. Euphoria and acceptance delight my mind.

I stiffen as Asmodeus glides his blade between my ass cheeks.

“Why don’t you pray, Iblis? Beg for mercy from the god who’s abandoned us our whole lives.”

A part of me is terrified, but another part wonders if the pain of the blade fucking my ass would create a whole new high. What would happen if I defied Asmodeus? Perhaps it would push him to go to places neither of us dreamed of within the construct of our dynamic.

But I also know that if we cross the invisible line, our little fucked-up family will be obliterated, broken into a million pieces too fragile to be put back together.

“Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit.”

My body jerks as Asmodeus uses the flat part of the knife to spread one cheek apart, and cold liquid falls down my crack. Holy anointing oil. Asmodeus’ poison. He finds it amusing, sanctifying the unsanctifiable. “As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, a world without end.”

Asmodeus pulls my head back and impales me in one thrust, whispering the final word of the prayer. “Amen.”