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The Lord of the Nine Hells seethed as he laid, prostrate and bound, in the center of the Everlight's sitting room.
He did little else these days. Largely because there wasn't much else to do when one became the pet of the Dawnfather and the Everlight. His days were spent tied up like a dog until his Masters found leave to grant him their attention before disappearing back to their business.
It was an cruel and wicked system.
If he were not the one subjected to it, he'd call it genius.
“You are thinking hard, brother.” The Dawnfather said as he swept into the room. Asmodeus forced himself to relax, smoothed out his expression before the other god could come any closer. His brother sighed, said lightly, “You do not have to stop on my account.”
“You would not enjoy what I was contemplating.” Asmodeus promised.
“I’m sure that I have some idea of it.” The Dawnfather shot back.
Asmodeus gritted his teeth. It was true that even his veritable vaults of torture methods to had finally run dry after three centuries. There had been no opportunities to see anything new that the mortals might have come up with. They were quite inventive about such things. Many times Asmodeus had thought that he’d hit the depth of their depravity they would pull out a shovel and keep digging.
It was the only interesting thing about the creatures.
The Dawnfather sighed, kneeling besides him. “You know that I do not police your thoughts.” he said, as if that was a comfort. Asmodeus was policed in many ways more violating and they both knew it. Speaking of, “Turn over. You do yourself no favors laying on your arms like that.”
“Is it not the proper way for a slave to greet his Master?”
A muscle in the Dawnfather’s cheek twitched. He simply repeated, “Turn over.”
There was always such fun to be had in riling up the Dawnfather. Asmodeus’ deepest regret was that he’d fallen victim to his own hubris in the earliest days of his new accommodations. He’d shown his hand far too early and now he paid the price for his arrogance every sunrise.
He rolled over before the Dawnfather’s could decide that he had the right to do it himself. His careful handling was worse than the lash and they both knew it.
It was what made it such an effective threat.
Ichor began to flow again and Asmodeus shuddered. It was a flood of fire, a wave of pain, an avalanche of blissful agony. He doubted that he’d ever regain feeling in his fingers again and the thought made him whimper.
The Dawnfather frowned, his voice level. “No.” he said.
The pain disappeared in an instance, as if it had never existed. Asmodeus snarled and lunged for his brother’s throat. Were it not for the ropes, which kept him powerless and tamed, then he would’ve won his prize. Instead he crashed back to the ground before he’d even gotten close.
“Do we not give you what you desire?” The Dawnfather asked, placid and unmovable. His eyes were dark. “When you ask for it?”
Asmodeus bared his teeth and kept his silence. It was beyond maddening that he would make such a mistake in front of the righteous bastard. His dearest siblings would be sure that he would never be allowed to lay like that without a minder again.
“Fine.” The Dawnfather said when it became clear that Asmodeous would not damn himself further. His words are measured, “I had thought to be generous tonight.”
Asmodeus raised an eyebrow, “Is that right?”
“I have changed my mind.”
“Yet, the mortals associate you with stability.” Asmodeus clucked his tongue in disapproval. “What would your precious followers say when I told them that you were fickle?”
“This before or after you - what did you say - tore their tongues out through their stomach?”
Asmodeus buried his teeth into the Dawnfather’s arm. His jailor hissed, wretching his arm away, and leaving a chuck of it behind. Golden ichor fell between them and landed on Asmodeus’ lips, teeth, and tongue. Asmodeus swallowed it all down and relished the burn.
He had but a second to savor it before his tongue was instead subjected to the wretched taste of blessed silver. The ‘O’ shaped gag inserted into his mouth was gentle, comfortable, and it made Asmodeus snarl in displeasure.
“I gave you three chances to approach me with respect, and you refused each one.” The Dawnfather said. As if Asmodeus was a misbehaving child, or pet to be chided into obedience. His chest burned with the anger of a thousand suns. “I do not like to punish you.”
Yet, the mortals would say that Asmodeus was the liar. It was unbelievable.
The Dawnfather hauled him up the ropes wrapped around his wrists and dragged him into the bedroom.
It was, of course, all a farce. There was no need for a place for the Everlight to rest her oh-so wearied head, or for the Dawnfather to snooze while waiting for another dawn to foster into existence. Asmodeus had, occasionally, laid onto a bed of nails but that been for quality control not to garner any sense of rest.
That it was all pretend did nothing to discourage the bed from existence.
Asmodeus landed and immediately began to squirm. It was the most comfortable bed in existence. There were very few places that Asmodeus despised more.
“Enough,” The Dawnfather said, unamused as he knotted the ropes to the head board. He disappeared from view but, unfortunately, his speech continued. Asmodeus’ ankles were untethered from each other and then lifted into the air. They hung suspended from invisible hooks. “This is not for your enjoymen as you well knowt.”
If Asmodeus had his mouth free than he would have made clear that none of this was made for his enjoyment. His siblings may eventually, many millennium from now, be able to convince him otherwise. That - That would be the day that Asmodeus would be truly lost.
A hand lands, light as a feather, to spread the globes of his ass. Liquid, a truly copious amount, dizzled over his hole.
Asmodeus tensed.
The Dawnfather said nothing more as he slid one finger - one measly finger - into the tight ring. It slowly sank to the first knuckle, before pulling back out until only the very tight of the finger remained.
A kiss, gentle as a feather, landed on the back of his neck.
Asmodeus felt the first prickling twinges of fear. He had caught the Dawnfather in a mood. A mood that promised absolutely nothing that would bring Asmodeus any relief.
He tried to speak around the ring that kept him silenced, “Brother, I’m sorry -”
It was reduced to a jumble of meaningless letters. Drool dripped down his chin and splashed onto the angel-woven sheets. His nostrils flared with the scent of fresh grass and growing wheat.
“I do not want your apologies,” The Dawnfather said. Already, he’s set a maddening pace; his finger leisurely rocking back and forth. “They mean nothing to me, as you well know. I simply wish that you remember who you are answering too. I know you as you know me. I will not be swayed by pretty words or petty action.”
If there was anything that could truly sway the Dawnfather then Asmodeus did not know it. His tears, his rage, his fear, and his promises were each met with the same wall of righteous indifference.
That only one of those were genuine was inconsequential as far as Asmodeus was concerned.
The Dawnfather continues, brushing another kiss on his shoulder. “You will take what I give you and think on what you could have had instead if you had only asked.”
The shadows on the walls grow longer and longer, as if there was something as trivial as time allowed to pass in the Everlight’s kingdom. No, it was - alongside everything else here - made only for show. All of it simulated to confuse Asmodeus’ senses and confound his thoughts.
That it worked was more maddening than he could articulate.
Asmodeus writhed in agony as his brother finally sunk four fingers into his ass. He would give any, or all of his kingdoms, for the harsh sting of the cat o' nine tails or the paralyzing agony of the pear.
That he knew those instruments rested only a few feet away, out of reach, was what finally made him begin to weep. He squeezed his eyes shut but could not stop the tears from trailing down his face.
“At last,” The Dawnfather said, voice deep with satisfaction, “something that I can trust from you.”
Asmodeus mumbled something behind his gag. He did not pretend to know what he had meant. The Dawnfather did not pretend that he did not know.
His tail, which had been anxiously flickering back and forth, is caught in an iron grip and pulled.
Stars vanished out of existence, black holes replacing them. A solar flare passed over the atmosphere of Exandria without harming a single mortal life.
Asmodeus, for a single moment, forgot to hate his brother.