THE SERVANTS OF ASMODEUS
BURN IN HELL #2
by Annabeth Lake
THE SERVANTS OF ASMODEUS (BURN IN HELL #2)
Annabeth Lake
Published by Annabeth Lake at Smashwords
Copyright 2012 Annabeth Lake
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This book is a work of fiction. All characters should be assumed to be entirely fictional and over the age of 18.
He liked them to kneel first.
He didn’t require it, of course. His insatiable sex drive, made even worse rather than alleviated in the fiery kingdom, wouldn’t allow him to be too picky about how his new servants approached him. But Asmodeus preferred them to kneel as they came before him, especially when they crawled first, their fingers digging into the burning soil. He liked it best when they kept their eyes on him as they dragged themselves, watching the demon they would soon think of as their master.
Most of them were naked when they arrived. He didn’t know if that was simply how they’d come to the pit or if they’d been stripped of their clothes upon arrival. Millennia had passed since he’d ascended to the upper level. Though they had once been lovers, Lucifer bored him now, and the upper level was Lucifer’s domain. And so his first sight of the new inhabitants of their kingdom was when they came to him, and, guided only by his own pressing need to relieve his cock of its endless burden, he couldn’t be bothered with the details.
Some of them knew who he was when they first saw him. Only rarely did they know his name, but as soon as their eyes beheld him, sitting upon his throne of living naked men, they recognized him for what he was -- lust personified. His body exuded sex like sweat. Some of them were driven mad at the sight of him. They collapsed into the red dirt, masturbating furiously, covering themselves in their own cum before they could even finish the journey to him. Even now, there were two within easy sight of his throne who had been jerking off for years, oblivious to the passage of time. Dead and in eternity now, they were tireless.
Others remained ignorant of his nature until it was too late. He needed only touch them once, a gesture as simple as brushing his hand against their bare flesh, and they were filled with the same lust that had consumed him since his creation. They offered their bodies to him, whores and virgins alike.
Asmodeus’s throne writhed beneath him. It was a work of art, really. The men who had devoted themselves so fully to his service took whatever shape he liked, stretching and bending their bodies to form new configurations, depending on their master’s purposes. At present, most lay in a mountainous pile beneath him, perhaps a hundred men deep, touching and fucking each other in an endless orgy. The back of his throne was made of up of three pairs of men who fucked standing up, using the backs of their comrades as a floor. Its seat was a trio on their hands and knees, and the arms of the throne were the extended legs of two men who were currently engaged with rimming two others who knelt above them.
He would pick partners from the group later to indulge himself with, but for now he merely enjoyed the feel of them under him as their bodies contorted in torturous pleasure. Their voices rose up to him, a cacophony of moans and grunts, and here and there an orgasmic scream. His cock pulsed as he listened.
He, too, was capable of creating, and this eternal orgy was his favorite creation.
Thunder crashed high above him. There was no true sky here, only the fierce orange glow of the uppermost level, where their King presided with an iron fist and a perpetually erect cock. This place was of His imagining, and thunder could mean any of several things. Lording over His kingdom, Lucifer could be angry or about to blow his load in whatever grotesque thing had offered itself to him. More often, though, it signaled the opening of the Gate, and the inpouring of the newly damned.
Asmodeus’s dick stiffened at the sound. If it meant the new ones had come, it would be only a brief matter of time before those whose souls he would claim arrived.
“I love you, Master.” A lovely naked form twisted at the Asmodeus’s feet, rising just enough to look into the demon’s eyes.
Asmodeus favored the boy with a smile and offered him a fingertip to suck. The boy took to his finger greedily, sucking it as if it were a cock. He was one of the newer ones, wasn’t he? He had been here only for a few years, it seemed. From the look of his lean and muscular body, he had died a young man, only in his third decade of life. Tragic, really, Asmodeus supposed, but he had no real interest in the details, nor was he likely to listen if the boy -- or any of the others who had committed themselves to his service -- ever wanted to speak of them. He wanted their bodies, nothing else. As far as he was concerned, their tongues had only two uses -- praising him and pleasuring him.
Another crash of thunder sounded. Asmodeus looked up into the orange air of the higher region. It was burning brighter than usual. The new ones were here. How glorious.
“Away from me,” he said to the young man at his finger. He patted the boy’s hair lightly as he might do to an obedient pet, and the boy lowered his head in reverence.
He descended gracefully from the throne. The pile of nameless men didn’t wait for him to give an order. Like a flock of birds, they read even the slightest movement from him and instantly moved to conform to his wishes. Now, as he stepped down from his seat, they raised and lowered their bodies to make a staircase for him. Some of them came as he walked upon them, their bodies shuddering as their cocks spurted onto whomever was nearest them. Though he did not look down at them, Asmodeus smiled to himself at the feeling of them trembling in orgasm under him. He’d always had that effect on men.
The earth of Asmodeus’s level was soft as fresh soil, but nothing grew in it but sexual desire. It burned his bare feet as he stood on it, and its terrible heat traveled up his perfectly-crafted legs and settled in his groin. The head of his cock gave a dull throb. It needed to be relieved by new flesh.