Ashmodaen Ch. 01

"Likewise, it's been located in Italy, Russia, and Britain, and is currently about a two-hour drive from Minneapolis." Despite the fantastical things she was saying, Neida's voice was calm, almost matter-of-fact.

Oh, cool, no big deal, we only Gated four hours away in the space of a second! I thought to myself. Then, as we mounted a set of stairs, I glanced around and realized I was completely lost. I spent the rest of the walk examining the much more finely-furnished hallways and rooms of the upstairs floor. Or at least it was upstairs from where we had been; this could be the actual basement and we just came from a sublevel! The lack of any windows outside left that a mystery.

After another three minutes of walking, passing by numerous paintings and statues and potted plants and shelves of knickknacks and doodads and all sorts of other stuff, we came to a pair of double-doors, each decorated with gold designs and large ring knockers.

Neida shot a dark look at Angela. "Remember, angel, you breathe only because of My Lord's mercy. Be sure to demonstrate your gratitude to Lady Irilith, lest she contest My Lord's decision."

Angela only glared back in response, and I took a deep breath. Seeing as Neida applied what I assumed was the same rank to both Irilith and I, this Lady probably had a lot of pull with everyone around here - not to mention she was certain to know a lot more than I did about... well, everything that was going on. But still, if I really was some sort of 'heir to the throne' or something, then wouldn't that place me above Irilith? Unless this was a feudal setup and I was just a fief lord while she was the queen. Though, given the amount of deference Neida and the others were giving me, I doubted that last bit.

Neida stepped forward and grabbed one of the knockers, then struck three measured beats. A second passed, the doors swung open, and our group moved forward into... well. Imagine a throne room coupled with the raunchiest depiction of a Roman party you can think of. Scenes from Sparticus come to mind. Now throw in half of the creatures from the Dungeons and Dragons' Monster Manual, and you might have a decent idea of what we walked into.

The room was a massive, domed heptagonal space, with seven pillars lined up with the corners. Another set of doors like the ones we came in through stood on the wall three faces to our right, and a raised dias took up most of the space against the wall two spaces to our left.

There were roughly three dozen people in the throne room, a few of recently-familiar races, but many more new to me, including avians, insectoids,various aquatic-looking people, draconians, and some that just looked plain monstrous. The most numerous people, however, were those that looked largely like Neida and Naide, both women and men. I knew enough to figure they were succubi and incubi. And while there wasn't much overtly sexual activity going on (at least, not at first glance), though there was a lot of very sensuous touching and pressing of bodies, and nearly everyone was dressed scantily and some were practically naked - if not entirely so.

The raised dias was home to a large throne, which itself was raised up even more on it's own dias. Upon it sat a woman I assumed was another succubus, though she had some differences from my twin companions. For one, a pair of large, curled horns adorned her head. She also had cloven hooves for feet, and I could see a slender spade-tipped tail placidly waving behind her.

She was also functionally nude, wearing only jewelry and tiny strips of sheer, colorful cloth. A half-dozen people of various races, both male and female, all nude but for metal collars, were around the throne's dias; some simply lounged, others caressed and touched the regal succubus, one held an ornate pitcher (though whether it was water, wine, or something else, I wasn't sure), and another a platter of several finger-foods like grapes.

My escort made a beeline straight for the throne, and as we approached, I took my time to examine the woman occupying it, who could only be Lady Irilith. She was raven-haired, her straight, silky hair falling to her waist where it wasn't elaborately braided or curled - she somehow managed to have a ton of different hairstyles going on all at once, and made each look spectacular, both individually and as a whole. Her skin was slightly oranged, as though tanned, but I somehow knew this unusual tint was her natural complexion. The skin towards her hooves slowly graduated into almost scale-like tissue below the knee, which had a black color to it. Her horns were adorned with more jewelry, including rings and chains, the latter of which hung freely, connected back to the horn, or were anchored to piercings in her ears around which the norn circled.

When we entered, the room was abuzz with conversation, and Lady Irilith herself was talking with a man who looked similar to her - wings, hooves, horns, and tail - though he was wearing fancy robes that covered most of his body. But as we passed through the room, the background conversations slowly died, and Lady Irilith and her visitor turned their attention to us.

Or, more specifically, me. I could feel the weight of every set of eyes in the room landing on me. Talk about nerve-wracking.

As we took the pair of steps to the first dias, Irilith's visitor spoke a few words to her, then quietly back away and off the throne's dias to stand on the same level as the rest of the crowd, though apart from it. Lady Irilith herself stood, a radiant, eager smile on her face as she descended from the dias towards us.

"Neida," she said, in a voice like the smoothest silk, and perfectly pitched to make my heart ache and my blood surge in desire, "I assume that this is Our Lord, finally found and brought home?"

We came to a halt just as her question ended, and Neida bowed low, one hand over her heart while the other swept out to the side, her feet crossing in what was almost a curtsy. "Indeed, Lady Irilith. I present to you Our Lord, the Inheritor of the Throne of the Ashmodaen, Descendant of Ashmedai himself," she announced before straightening.

Irilith beamed even wider. "Excellent!" she said, before her gaze slid sideways onto Angela, and her gorgeous features smoothly transitioned into a look of pure disgust, her chin raising as she looked down her nose at the police officer. "And what, pray tell, is an angel doing in Our Lord's presence?"

Neida stiffened, then bowed again, though this time without the flourishes, and even lower. "My Lady..." she began, uncertainty clear in her voice.

"I brought her with." The words were out of my mouth before I even thought about it.

Irilith's gaze slid back onto me, still dark, but curious now, her head chanted to one side. "If I may ask, My Lord: why?"

I swallowed, already regretting opening my mouth. But despite that regret, a response formed, alongside a friendly smile. "From what I understand, the only reason Neida and the Sins of the Ashmodaen were able to find me was because my aura was activated by her. It seems wrong, to me, to reward such a gift with death." I had no idea where such a diplomatic answer came from - nor the strength in my voice to deliver it cleanly, without stammering - but I hoped that it would stick around for at least a while longer.

A chorus of murmurs started up in the crowd, and Irilith's gaze became piercing. She glanced at Angela, then back at me, a small smile growing on her face. "Do you wish to Bind her, My Lord?"

I blinked. "I..." Pausing, I glanced around the room, acutely aware of the impression me admitting my ignorance would likely form. Of course, that's assuming that everyone here didn't already know how clueless I was. "Perhaps, Lady Irilith, we might continue this conversation as... less of a spectacle? Any announcement that needs to be made can surely be made some other time." Thank you mysterious diplomatic powers!

Irilith's eyes swept across the room, then she watched me for a moment. Finally, she nodded, and waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. Like magic, the crowd began to disperse, some vanishing in puffs of smoke or flashes of light, others turning towards the nearest exit and walking - or sliding, hopping, or whatever mode of ambulation was appropriate to their body - out. The last to leave was the incubus that had been talking to Irilith. He looked across all of us before nodding once, turning on his heel, and disappearing in a flash of violet, smokeless flames.

When the crowd was cleared out, all that remained was the Sins of the Ashmodaen, Irilith and her attendants, Angela, and myself. Once the doors were all shut tight - seemingly of their own accord - the bejeweled succubus approached our group, approached me, until she was barely five feet away. "Should I assume, My Lord, that you are about as knowledgeable of the realities of all this," she gestured grandly, encompassing everything around us, "as a newborn babe?"

I smiled a small, embarrassed smile. "That would be an accurate analysis. And please, my name is Lucas. 'My Lord' is... well, it makes me uncomfortable."

Irilith dipped her head gracefully in acquiescence, a sultry smile on her full lips. "Very well... Lucas." A tiny shiver went up and down my spine when she said my name, triggered by the soft undertones of lust and the sultriness that she spoke with. "If you would prefer, Irilith would be acceptable." She smiled. "After all, at the end of the day, I am here to serve you - as are we all."

I swallowed heavily. "About that... Neida gave me the spark notes about what's going on, but I can't say I'm not confused... or that I'm totally convinced."

Irilith laughed softly. "Of course, that is hardly surprising. While we don't exactly have time for a history lesson right this moment, I suppose a more thorough explanation is in order.

"As you can plainly see, demons and angels and all sorts of other beings most humans consider mythical and legendary truly do exist. We hide in plain sight, behind glamours that deceive human eyes and the tools they employ, and go about our business without their interference.

"This mansion," she gestured grandly again, "is home of the Ashmodaen - the children of Ashmedai, also known as Asmodeus, the once Demon Prince of Lust. And almost six thousand years ago, Ashmedai vanished, leaving only a message saying that his eventual heir would one day come to claim his throne."

"And you think I'm that heir?" My voice nearly cracked with the question.

Irilith smiled. "You are the heir - one needs only sense your aura to know it without question."

"Okay, and what, exactly, is an 'aura?'" I recalled Angela saying something about an aura - my aura - back in the forest.

Irilith thought for a second, her lips pursing. "Auras are a sort of magical scent, a pressure, a sound beyond hearing, that magical beings can sense. They each have a unique presence to them, like a person's voice, or their scent. And yours positively oozes of the Sin of Lust."

I rubbed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose for a long moment. "Okay, so... what happens now?"

Irilith smiled sympathetically. "I suppose there are two options before you, Lucas: you can become the new Demon Prince of Lust - the new Ashmodai; or, you can walk away, return to your former life, and probably be found again - maybe by a demon, maybe by the host, or possibly by some other - and very likely die or be enslaved."

I sighed. Of course it couldn't be that easy. I'd been completely ignorant of any of this just over an hour ago, but that hadn't stopped Angela from trying to kill me. "So my options are to become a Demon Prince or die eventually, probably sooner?" Irilith nodded. "Well, I can't say I fancy dying anytime soon. What happens if I become this... new Demon Prince?"

"It will not be instant, nor fast, Lucas," Irilith cautioned me. "Demons gain power through Pacts and Bonds - pacts between allies, mentors, and rulers, and Bonds between a master and a thrall. Ashmedai, when he left, had over three hundred Pacts and Bonds."

I blinked. "Wait, you mean... when you asked if I wanted to Bond Angela, you were saying... you mean make her my slave?"

Irilith nodded, smiling excitedly, though her tone was still conversational. "Binding an angel would be a wonderful start, not only for your personal power, but also to prove to your subjects that you are the rightful Heir to the Throne. Angels, while generally repressed sexually - the poor prudes - are not only motherlodes of power for you to claim, but excellent pets once properly trained to serve." Irilith eyed Angela lustily. "This one is quite attractive, and decently powerful - above average for a Guardian Angel." She took an exaggerated sniff in Angela's direction, then tsked, making a slightly disappointed face. "Diligence Virtue, unfortunately. It would be so delightfully ironic if she was of Chastity - they are so much fun to tame."

I looked at Angela, deciding to ignore the obvious implications of sexual slavery (though I wasn't terribly surprised - we were talking about demons of lust here), who was still looking at the floor. "But... what if she doesn't want to be my... my thrall?"

Both Angela and Irilith gave me a sharp look. "In many situations," the succubus said slowly, her voice thoughtful, "the creation of a Bond is done without full knowledge on the part of the Thrall-to-be. Angela, being an angel, knows more than the average Thrall about Bonds, so she could prevent it from forming. However, we have enough power between myself and the Sins to force the ritual, should she refuse to cooperate. If, for whatever reason, you decide not to Bind her, the only viable alternative is death - we cannot expect to keep a Guardian angel prisoner without inciting the wrath of the Host - they may be... irritated about the Binding of an angel, but it is an... accepted consequence of our skirmishes, and likewise should the host deign to 'purify' a demon (though that's rarely the case). And we cannot allow her to simply go free, not knowing what she does of you and this stronghold."

I looked at Angela, who was watching me with a guarded expression. None of those choices were good ones - any way you sliced it, she was getting the end of a stick that had been used to stir up a bunch of shit. "It's a crappy choice," I eventually said to her, "but I can't make it for you."

She, along with everyone else, stared hard at me. Then she set her jaw. "I have no desire to die," she said, without a waver in her voice, her chin rising slightly... in pride? "But at the same time, becoming Bonded to a future Demon Prince? That isn't my idea of a great career choice." With a small sigh, she turned her gaze downward, staring at nothing.

A few moments passed before she took a deep breath, then looked up at me. "I'll become your thrall. On one condition: if I ask, you will kill me, and release me from my servitude. If those are my two choices, then I want to keep that choice."

I gulped, but nodded, setting my jaw. "If that is your wish." Then I turned to Irilith. "So, how do we do this? Is there some sort of incantation or a ritual or..."

The succubus smiled. "Angela, first Lucas must know your real name - though I must say, I appreciate the humor of your choice in human name."

The angel swallowed, taking another deep breath. "Alnariel."

Irilith nodded. "And Lucas, though that is the name you have had all your life, Bonds and Pacts are only formed by Demons, and 'Lucas' is not the name of a demon. Since no name was bestowed upon you when you were a child, you must choose your own."

I blinked. That was... not something I was ready for. "Okay, so... what are demon names? I assume Lucifer is taken?" I was relieved by the chuckles that got. At least I was still passably funny.

"You needn't worry about what other demons are called," Irilith reassured me. "Simply concentrate on what your own name could be, and it will come to you."

That so didn't help. The demon names I knew were too varied to even have an idea where to start, if any of the ones I'd heard were accurate. You had names from theology, like Belial or Beelzebub, or from games or movies, like Sargeras or Aku. And that's only counting the Abrahamic demons, Warcraft, and Samurai Jack! The rest of the world still had theological demons to consider, and popular media probably had demons beyond counting.

Then suddenly, despite my inner panic, my mind calmed. Imgethisoth Geith Asmedeai Celom N'thimbe Kothc Kurs. There was a certainty, a sort of knowing, as the words, the names filled my mind.

"I am Imgethisoth, Heir of Ashmedai, Demon Prince, and Lord of Lust." As I said it, I had a much greater understanding of what it all meant, in a vague and blurred sort of way. And I knew both how to Pact and Bind - was the sudden knowledge of demon language somehow unlocking some sort of ancestral memories or something? Turning to Angela, to Alnariel, I spoke, intoned, though with slight changes: "I offer Binding Words and their Bonds to Alnariel, Guardian Angel of the Host. Serve faithfully and eagerly, and reap the rewards as a Thrall of the Ashmodaen, until released from your servitude by death."

Alnariel gasped, a blush coloring her cheeks, but there was a tension, a resistance. She was fighting the ritual, testing her limits; it only lasted for a few moments before a satisfied look entered her eyes and she relaxed, the tension disappearing, and she offered her wrists to me as if in a trance. "I accept your Binding Words and their Bonds, and pledge to serve, faithfully and eagerly, to reap the rewards as a Thrall of the Ashmodaen, until released from your service by death."

When she finished her part of the Binding, I took her wrists in my hands. A burning sensation, not like fire but arousal, coursed down my arms, through my fingers, and I could sense it coil around Alnariel's wrists before coursing up her arms and through the rest of her body. She cried out as the pleasure struck her, and with a violet shimmer, a pair of manacles, smooth and golden with purple trim, formed around her wrists, and so did a collar, likewise smooth and golden with trimmings of purple, around her neck. Her Bonds each had a ring set in them - on the inside of her wrists for her manacles and at her throat on her collar - and I could see ethereal impressions of chains depending from each ring, not quite real, but needing only the slightest push from my magic to take solid form. Most shockingly, however, was the disappearance of her police uniform, which was replaced by a sheer, tissue-thin violet gown with golden trim. Her hair was also now loose, falling past her shoulders in silky golden waves.

I stared at the angel for a long moment, overwhelmed by awe at her beauty and lust for her, before it struck me. I could feel my magic! And I could sense the auras of everyone in the room! While most of the auras were muddled, all mixed together as my new sense struggled to figure out how to make heads or tails of them, Alnariel's was almost blindingly clear, with a sense like... honey in crystal water on a spring day in a forest meadow. Irilith was right, auras were like every sense in one, but using some other sense that I simply didn't have words for.

Blinking to try and clear the new sensations, I huffed a small laugh. "Well, that just... yeah."

Smiling proudly, Irilith turned slightly and gestured for a pair of her attendants to approach, two succubi with vivid russet skin and blood-red hair, and crimson lips, nipples, and labia. They both had heterochromia, and while matching, were opposite: one had a left eye of flaming orange and a right eye like a ruby, while the other had a flaming right eye and a ruby left. Their collars were black leather, unlike the metal that Irilith's other attendants had, and they had spade tails and horns which flowed back along the top of their heads from where they sprouted on their foreheads, as well as hooves and wings; the demonic parts had a dark blue tint to them, while the hard, bony material of their hooves and horns and the single talon in each wing were pitch black. Both were voluptuous and curvy, with tits nearly as big as their heads and round, plump asses. Their hair fell loose to the waist in waves and while unstyled, seemed to naturally flow in opposite ways, towards their ruby eyes. They also had a natural, but kempt, thatch of pubic hair covering their mounds. Aside from the collars, both were completely bare and unmarked, unlike all the other attendants, who had tattoos, jewelry or seductive cloths of some kind or another adorning their bodies.