Asmodeus - Demon of Lust: Pt. 05

A/N – Hi guys, hope you are all enjoying this series. As promised, I present part five! And isn't she a beaut?! My longest chapter so far, I hope it won't disappoint. As always, PLEASE rate and leave comment, I can't convey how much I love them. Also, if you have a spare minute, have a read of my poem called We Stand Together. It's my first ever poem, I'm really very proud of it and I would love to know what you guys think; the link is on my profile. Happy reading!

Cheers,

Steelkat

Part 5

Memories of the past day filter through my dazed mind like evidence at a court hearing. All day I've experienced irrational emotions; jealousy, betrayal, sorrow and anger, all leading to uncontrollable tears and how could I forget the bouts of nausea? I should have known, the evidence was there, but how could I have guessed? I'm sure women don't usually feel the effects of pregnancy the day after conception... Right?

I step away from my lover, then run a hand over the soft flesh of my abdomen and am startled to feel a small hardness underneath. Even with my non-existent knowledge of pregnancy, I know that it's way too early me to have a little bump already!

"How is this possible?" I whisper more to myself than to Asmodeus.

But of course, that is like asking how it's possible for demons to exist. As I struggle to digest yet another impossibility proven entirely viable, I remember that Asmodeus mentioned something about nine days. He said that I would have to endure mind-numbing pain everyday for nine days, but my question is what happens after?

Surely not what I'm thinking now, right?

The demon king answers for me, his words shattering my last glimmer of desperate hope.

"The child will be born in nine days time. Regrettably, until that day is upon us you will have to endure the... discomfort associated with his growth, for he will grow quickly."

Born in nine days?! I release a guttural scream of anguish and fall to my knees as my last scrap of fighting spirit escapes. Raw and unrelenting sobs choke me as I cradle my head in my arms and dread the days to come.

The nausea which has been plaguing me finally rears its ugly head, triggering violent heaving and retching; my stomach already too empty to expel anything. Asmodeus is kneeling by my side in a flash, supporting my convulsing body and pulling my hair back as bile scorches my throat on its way out.

As soon as I have gained a little more control over my raging body, I use what little strength I have left to scramble away from him.

"Get away from me," I croak, "please, just... leave me alone."

I stagger to the bed and sink down onto it as pure exhaustion drags me further into my suffocating depression. The demon leaves like I asked him to, not even bothering to seal the exit. If I could leave, now would be the perfect opportunity.

But how can I, with this thing growing inside me? Where would I go? How would I explain when the time came, the birth of a creature with a pointed tail and red eyes?

I couldn't.

No one would believe me anyway, even with the evidence right there in front of them. They would pass it off as a freak of nature, maybe study it for a time; try to fix the problem. And all the while the creature would grow, becoming more like its father with each passing day.

What havoc with such a beast inflict on the world? How would I live with myself knowing that I'd unleashed the spawn of a monster on mankind?

Speak of the devil and Asmodeus is back, interrupting my dark thoughts. He is not alone though, and is followed closely by a slender demoness with rich burgundy skin, dark hair and yellow eyes. Her long tail is tucked between her legs in fear of her master; the end curled around her ankle. Although she wears nothing more than coarse breast bindings and a short skirt, I am suddenly painfully aware of my own nakedness, which hadn't bothered me as much when I was alone with my lover but now has me self-conscious and embarrassed.

Pulling a satin sheet free and wrapping it around my aching body, I lift myself off the bed, gripping one of the iron posts and ignoring my screaming muscles. Wearily, I take a step towards them, too tired to be properly pissed off. Darkness creeps into the corners of my vision and when I rub my eyes, phantom black spots dance across my line of sight. A high pitched whine echoes in my ears from all directions and does not ease up, no matter which way I turn my head. Asmodeus says something, but I can't hear him over the never-ending nails on a chalkboard squeal in my head.

"I thought I told you to leave me the fuck alone." I slur back, and hear a gasp from the bitch he brought with him.

This makes me laugh, feverishly and without restraint until I feel the world tilt and see the earth rush up at me. Hot, strong arms catch me before the ground breaks me and I feel them tighten around my limp form. I've lost all control of my motor functions. My head lolls to one side and feels as if it has been stuffed full of cotton; I can't even muster up any panic, let alone figure out what's wrong with me.

I lose track of time and in my delirium, one minute seems to stretch an eternity. Vaguely I'm aware that a cool liquid is being poured into my parched mouth. I gulp it down greedily. The water revitalises me somewhat and I lift my arms up in fierce desperation, gripping the bowl tightly and attempting to pour my salvation faster down my throat. I choke in my haste, wheezing the liquid out of my lungs as the bowl is ripped away from me. No matter, I've had enough for now and let the comforting numbness of oblivion claim me.

I sleep like the dead, revived only by the start of that familiar ache in my womb. Oh, great God why can't I just sleep through this part?

I moan in frustrated despair, as the agony assaults me again and I thrash on the bed I've been placed on. Biting into a pillow I scream my hatred and suffering at no one, because Asmodeus isn't here. I cry until I have nothing left and wait, forever it seems for this soul wrenching horror to end.

When it is finally over, I realise that I am not truly alone. The demoness who came in earlier with Asmodeus is still here, standing by the foot of the bed. When she sees that I'm in control again she rushes toward me with another bowl of water. Panting hard and still gripping the pillow tightly, I glare up at her, too shattered to speak.

She slips a small, strong hand behind my head and tilts it up before pressing the rim of the bowl to my lips for me. When I'm finished, she lowers my head back down gently and covers my fevered body with a soft, light sheet. Unable to fight off the immense strength of my fatigue, I fall into a deep sleep yet again.

* * * * *

The demoness is still hovering over me when I finally open my eyes. She offers me more water which I accept and down quickly, still lying down with my head supported again. After I have had my fill, I gingerly lift myself up into sitting position, waving away the creature's attempts at assistance. Panting with the exertion, I let my head fall heavily against the headboard and fight to steady my ragged breathing. The handmaid offers me more water, which I decline by turning my head away. I can't stand being weak before a creature as gloriously strong and beautiful as she. I can see the strength in her long limbs and shapely body. She looks lovely and healthy, while I am a shadow of the woman I was just the day before. I feel frumpy and frail in comparison, not at all like a Queen of Demons.

Maybe I'm not, maybe I'm just the King's breeder bitch and this is the real Queen. Maybe she will be, after the monster inside me sucks away all that I have, my life and then my soul.

Maybe I should let it.

No, I shouldn't. I've always felt that giving up is the easy way out. I will not let this situation get the best of me. I have to fight.

Demon-bitch tries to coax me into having more water but again I resist, tucking my head further away from her and swiping blindly at the bowl in her hands. She fumbles with it for a second but cannot keep a good grip and I hear the satisfying crash of clay breaking against stone. A small victory, the first of many to come, I hope.

"Please, my lady, you are very weak; you must drink." Her voice is husky and as beautiful as she is, but it's also fragile and fearful, not at all what I expected.

The bitch is afraid of me.

The thought angers me. How can she – a demon no less – who is fit and healthy; be afraid of a bed-ridden invalid of a human woman who can barely sit up, let alone cause harm? It seems the message I left in my chambers has reached its intended audience.

Maybe this demon isn't the Queen after all? Is the real queen still a part of me, lying dormant and broken in the darkest corner of my heart? Can I muster up the strength to become her once more? The thought makes me smile cruelly.

"I'm weak?" I ask softly, more to myself than her, before twisting to face her from the bed. "I'm weak? Your voice trembles with fear as you speak and you call me weak?"

"I – my lady, that is not... my lady?" she struggles to form the words, her body as shaky and stuttering as her voice; and I watch with malicious glee as the colour drains from her body, when I lift myself off the bed, using the nearest bedpost as a brace and a sheet as a toga.

"Do I look weak now, servant?" I hiss, releasing my grip on the post and taking a menacing step toward her. "Do I?"

"No, your majesty!"

Oh yes. It seems I still possess the power after all.

"I beseech you, my lady! Forgive me my insolence, I did not wish to slight you, I was merely stating-"

"Don't you dare apologise and then try to justify your statement!" I scream and she jumps. I know that I'm being harsh, but frankly I don't give a shit. I am drained, starved and beaten; and this bitch is grating my nerves.

"Forgive me-"

"You will learn to shut the fuck up when I am speaking, or I will have to teach you the hard way."

Her face is ashen with pure terror but her mouth stays closed.

"Good. Now tell me; what is your name?"

Her eyes widen but she says nothing.

"When I ask a question, I expect an answer. Speak!"

"Th- they c-call me Ida, majesty."

"And I am assuming that Asmodeus has assigned you as my handmaid. Am I correct, Ida?"

"Yes, my lady S-Selena. I am to aid you in your time of need, providing food and water, as well as assisting you during bathing and other necessities." The words come out quickly and breathlessly as if she is afraid that I will punish her should she take too long to answer.

As she should be.

Her head is dipped in a bow of submission and her tail is curled tightly around her leg. She's my bitch; and she knows it.

"Well then, Ida," I say, as she seems uncomfortable with my use of her name, "you can draw me a bath. Asmodeus gave you some of his power?"

"Yes, my Queen," she replies, bowing her head down in compliance. As she summons a large, claw-footed metal tub from the earth, I drop onto the bed again, waiting for it to be filled. When it is, through another conveniently warm waterfall, I stumble toward it, shedding the sheet and climbing clumsily into the steaming water. I soak away the tension from my body, ordering Ida to bring me a bar of soap, a scouring sponge and a toothbrush. When I have scrubbed the sweat from my body and brushed away the furriness coating my teeth, I take Ida's hand and let her haul me out of the tub.

I dry off using another vent and clothe myself once more with a fresh sheet. I've barely covered up before Ida is in my face again, this time offering to bring me food. My stomach growls at the thought, but I ignore it as I remember a myth about Persephone, Goddess of the Underworld and the consequences of eating a single morsel in the bowels of hell.

"No, that will not be necessary; I have no further need of you."

"My lady, I have been order-" she begins, foolishly protesting against my dismissal.

The ground beneath her feet rumbles ominously and she crouches in horror, palms flat against the cave floor; attempting to steady herself. I tower above her, feeling the power coursing through my veins, thickening the very air I breathe and influencing the cave so formidably.

"Argue with me again," I warn, in my most disquieting tone, "and you will suffer greatly for it."

She kneels before me, bowing her head low at my feet, her whole frame quivering at the threat.

"Now leave me alone," I order, "LEAVE!"

She bolts for the exit, scrambling and stumbling in her haste.

When she is gone, I feel my energy drain away as quickly as it came. My shoulders slump and my body sags, swaying slightly as my vision darkens. My Queen-Bitch routine took more out of me than I expected.

I drag myself back toward the bed but I don't sit on it. I know if I do, that the darkness will claim me and I'll miss my chance. I'm so tired it hurts to keep my eyes open but there's something I have to do before I can let myself pass out.

Holding onto the bedpost again, I regret that I smashed the bowl of water. Really though, for me to properly regain my energy I would have to eat something, but thought repulses me.

Instead of conjuring up food or even water, I use the dregs of my dwindling power to summon a short stone pillar from the earth by my feet. So simple, yet so essential, this three foot column could be the key to my freedom.

I stand as close to it as I can, bracing myself for what I must do next. I take in a deep breath, trying to loosen the sudden tension in my body. Releasing the air does nothing to soothe me however and I feel an overwhelming panic begin to blossom in my chest. Once I do this, it cannot be undone. My breathing races and my heart thumps madly as I grip the smooth pillar, holding onto it as if it were a lifeline.

More like a tombstone.

The thought flits through my mind before I can stop it and I fall to my knees in grief.

I don't think I can do this!

I sob uncontrollably, clinging onto the cold and unforgiving stone like a child to her mother's skirt.

A child. It's just a baby. How could I even think about...

But it's not a normal baby. I have to end this, save the world from suffering, even to the cost of my own. I wipe away my tears with my forearms, rubbing my cheeks raw. Be strong Selena, I tell myself and pull my body up again. Keeping one foot placed firmly at the base of the pillar and stepping back with the other I brace once again. Gripping the stone tightly, I practice the movement slowly, thrusting my midsection forward. My womb makes gentle but threatening contact with the column; the height is just right. All I need now is the force.

I bite my lip hard to keep from crying again as I move back to the starting position. This will scar me, I know it will; not physically maybe, but psychologically... I will remember this until the day I die. And I will never forgive myself. But sacrifices must be made and maybe, when he finds out what I will have done, he'll kill me before the guilt does.

I draw my waist as far back as my body will allow and align my swollen womb with the harsh rock. My heart thumps painfully in my ears as I start the mental countdown.

Three... My forearms ache with the tension as I grasp the stone.

Two... My breathing is laboured and shaky.

One... I scream in horror and launch my body forward.

Time slows down as my body shoots toward the pillar of pain and death. As soon as I set this plan into motion, two disturbances cause me to regret my actions. The first is a roar of grief and fury; Asmodeus has caught me in the act. I'm sure he's sprinting with all his strength in an attempt to stop me but he's too far away; only I can stop this and he's not enough of a reason to. Unfortunately, the second disturbance is. The baby, my baby has chosen this moment to remind me that he is indeed a life and that denying him the right that life, just because I am afraid of what he might become is the worst of all sins. Yes, my demon child chooses this moment to make his presence known.

At the last possible second I veer off to my left, narrowly avoiding my originally intended full frontal collision with the column. My hip smashes into it instead and time catches up with me, until I'm sprawled out on the hard floor before I can fully comprehend what has happened. Luckily, although my hip hurts like a fucking bitch, the impact caused my body to turn somewhat as I fell so that I landed on my side rather than my belly.

I lie on my side and forget the world as I stroke the small bump that is my baby. His movements are slight, but I already feel him. How could I bear to hurt him now that he has suddenly become more than just a blind threat, more than just an idea? He's become something tangible, something real and the thought that he almost wasn't; and that I would have been the one responsible, is absolutely heart-crushing. At this very moment he is nothing more and nothing less than a small person, a little part of me and all I can process is the utter need to keep him safe from harm.

I curl into a protective ball around my baby and croon sweet nonsense, reassuring him that I would rather die myself than ever attempt to hurt him again. Asmodeus brings me back to the world outside the safety bubble I've created, grabbing me under my arms and hauling me to my feet. His very touch sends a bolt of energy shooting through me; I feel awake again in his hands. He rips away the clothing I've fashioned and frantically probes my belly with his rough hands. Is body visibly sags in relief before he releases a strained breath – and me – to stand tall once more. His face is an iron mask of impassivity.

I watch him jadedly, wondering when his self-proclaimed "horrendous temper" will make its appearance. I know it's coming, how could it not? It's not as if I had been a naughty child, being berated by her father. No, of course this is a million times worse, I almost killed our baby! Yet he still stands there, staring at me with those garnet eyes; there's no fire, no spark in them at all; only the cutting cold of betrayal. And it cuts me deeply, his stare, it's almost my undoing. Anything would be better than the ice in his eyes, I'd rather he raged at me.

Of course I would. This is my punishment, I realise. This simple look which conveys so much; the stare which increases my shame a hundred-fold. It's this look that proclaims me the villain when it was he who did this to me! It was his actions which led us to this point; his choices which made him a kidnapping coercer and me his murderous whore! How dare he accuse me with his eyes of being evil when it was he who made me what I am?! The thought banishes my crushing guilt for the moment and allows my energy to focus my rage. Let's see how he handles his temper. Let's see who the real bad guy is.

Will he rise to the bait?

"What, Asmodeus? Nothing to say? I almost destroy your... bastard" the word hurts coming out, "of a child and all you can do is stand there and stare at me like a simpleton?"

Of course, he doesn't look like a simpleton at all. He is the epitome of regality; his spine straight, head held high and so far, his temper in check. Of course I need to prove that this is a façade, if only to feel less wretched about myself. A little more niggling on my behalf should do the trick.

"What's the matter? Is the all powerful Demon of Lust feeling a little impotent today?" I jeer at him, willing him to react.