Tempted by K.M. Liss Page B

stood in the grand white hall as the
fifty impatient nobles and the hundred and fifty Legatus, the
leaders of each legion of Hell, filed in. Xonil appeared at his
side, neatly attired, his hair looking a lot tidier than its usual
wild tangle. He smiled at the thought of Xonil dragging a comb
through his matted locks. It must have been a painful process.
    Finally, after waiting an age, his Lord
graced them with his presence.
    Bael entered with long strides across the
red and white checkered floor. His flaming whips coiled wildly
about his ankles, snapping at anything he considered too close to
his royal presence. His stunningly beautiful blonde handmaiden,
Evita, followed meekly behind. Her eyes were downcast in respect,
her sleek female form sheathed from her bosom to to her ankles in a
black silk gown, emblazoned with the emblem of Bael on the center
of her breast. Bael's long black robe swirled around his body like
a storm cloud. He dismissed every face he passed, with a look of
contempt and superiority in his bright red gaze.
    Uvall sighed to himself with annoyance.
    He loved to make a grand entrance like this.
All eyes had to be upon him and in awe of the magnificence of his
every move. And he always brought his woman with him. His beautiful
trophy of power. Taunting the brethren with something they could
never possess. It was, dare he think it, very thoughtless, immature
and tiresome behavior for a Lord of his age and stature. But then
again, he was the devil, pleasantries weren't in his nature.
Taunting them was.
    Bael sat upon the white throne of Infamy and
settled himself comfortably, running his hand through his long red
curls. His handmaiden, the highly prized succubus, who attended to
his every need, sat demurely at his naked feet, stroking his instep
fondly with a pointed red talon. Bael lay his hand on Evita's head
affectionately.
    Bael nodded to Lucifer, seated on the throne
to his left, and Mammon to his right. The two Princes of Darkness
returned his majestic greeting graciously.
    Uvall stared covetously at
Evita, daydreaming of the exquisite pleasures of her flesh. His
mouth watered with a rush of desire. He imagined his hands gripping
those large mounds of her breasts, the feel of her around his cock.
He wondered how she'd taste as his long tongue thrust inside her
cunt, making her squirm and writhe in tortured pleasure. His
manhood stirred fast. How he'd love to take her ― to take her hard ― to make her scream his name in the
heights of painful ecstasy. She'd never forget the experience of
being fucked by him. His eyes flared and his lip twitched with the
beginnings of a wicked grin, which he swallowed hastily.
    She raised her eyes, sensing his rampant
attention. His burning blue gaze locked onto her black pools, as he
filled her mind with his desires. She stared for a moment, and then
smiled enthusiastically. He already knew she wanted him. All women
wanted him. He clasped his hands together, in front of himself to
obscure the clear evidence of his deepening arousal. It wasn't the
first time he'd told her mentally what he wanted to do to her, and
he was sure it wouldn't be the last.
    Bael became aware that the stroking
fingernail had stopped and her focus had moved from him. He gave
her hair a sharp tug, causing her to wince in pain, silently. He
felt a moment of pleasure at his minor triumph over Bael, then a
little guilt that Evita had to suffer for it, but it all passed out
of his demonic head very quickly.
    He clenched his fists taking control of his
deeply primal urge to fuck her. He'd never have her. This perfect
beauty before him. It would be the end of him. To touch but a hair
on the head of a Lord's succubus was sacrilege. It was high
treason. He would be fed to the souls, agonizingly slowly. Taken
apart, piece by piece.
    He closed himself off and rose above the
desires of the flesh. Now was not the time for such pointless
distractions anyway. Greater things, much greater things, were now
on