Asmodeus – Demon of Lust: Part 5

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.