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Tempting the Devil

Dis is a domain of anguish. But everything can be fixed with a game.

“And so you are, in my domain. Requesting an audience.”

The voice was low, brimming with intent and undertone; it belonged to someone who had been soured by life itself. The Gods had scorned him, and one exploited him. Not so many tales could retrace the way back to the Calamity.

Many tales had been twisted, remade, upturned, and shifted to fill a narrative that was soon to come to dust. Such was one of the first Betrayers of the Calamity.

Such tales recounted how he had plotted the downfall of what was dear to him from his first day. How it had been such a brave action to uproot the established status quo.

But the truth was elsewhere, in the form of repentance, lies, and regrets.

“Of course. What we gonna do, ‘cept twiddle our thumbs!” shouted back another one, guffawing.

On one side of the table was Zerxus Ilerez. The tanned Devil rolled his shoulders in his typical attire: broiled leather reinforced with pauldrons and with a high collar. His cheeks were gaunt, carved, with his beard following the angle and amplifying the natural Hellish traits, whether those glowing red eyes, those ram horns sprouting atop his head… Or the menacing aura he gave off as he was dealing the cards, sending them to the other two at the table.

His gaze went from one to another, then to the pile of precious merchandise they came with… As if bringing their own souls to Dis wasn’t suicide enough. Every little artifact brimmed with power, and they were looking to bet them. One by one. Fair enough for the Devil as he observed his hand.

Straight Flush, not bad. Not bad, as Zerxus remained poised, lowering his hand and already starting the bet with two chips.

“I could have let you die on my door and allowed the scavengers to scoop up your corpses. I have my guards ready to collect what dregs might be left there.”

“Aye. But you’re not a Devil who deals with uncertainty. Y’saw us, y’saw we were rich. We got your attention right away.”

“We certainly presented our case from the beginning, and it piqued your curiosity. If I may.”

One ashen hand reached for the tokens, picking up three and dropping them on the table.

“You might have fooled yourself. I am no mere trader. Your survival here is only my doing. Not through your wits or cleverness. Many a Devil would barge in, should I open my doors.”

“Aye. But the thrill, the curiosity, the intention. We haven’t told ya what we were in for!”

“You had the stronger hand in our dealings. I wouldn’t wish to lose such precious tokens,” answered Zerxus, his calloused fingers holding onto the cards while another held onto one of the skull-shaped chips. Dis had an appetite for creating gruesome versions of typical games.

“No. We understand that you have a preference for collection, and that our death might impact this collection. So, shall we let go of our threats and instead discuss you hosting us?”

“Me? Hosting you? Mortals? This is highly unlikely.”

“We ain’t immortal like of ya. If we gonna play a while, might as well have a little bedroom where to nap ‘n snore. You got that in that big castle, ain’t cha?”

Zerxus hit the chip against the table. The other two were following, precisely eager to see if he would give up. But he didn’t, nor did he ask to be served; hence, he added six chips to the table.

“Good grief. Guests. Typically, they leave as soon as possible. Yet, you seem eager to overextend your stay? Please, do tell, have you any grubby hands?”

“Please, sir. Do not insult us. We swore on our arrival on our good faith and shook hands.”

“Yes, we did.”

But there was still a catch, a way to twist words, to make the rules of a deal bend in one’s favor. Still, it had been curious to see those two state their intention clearly in one sentence. Such dealings were harder to exploit, but gave more leeway should one find the path.

Yet, they were making no proddings, no attempts to exploit his hospitality. So… Coming to Dis merely for a game of cards? Absurd.

Nevertheless, the two at the table were quite a fascinating duo.

The most talkative and suave was the ashen-skinned Tiefling. The eyes glowed blue, with a dark sclera, and his horns were similar to those of a deer; his cheeks were plump, and he had a slight tremor in his voice. Perhaps as he explored his tessitura, a singer, a Bard.

The second? It was a Dwarf. The top of his head was bald, his long red beard was a striking contrast, and his skin was fair. Those wrinkles peppered his face, but his aura was one of glimmering chance. A cleric. One who still went to deal with Zerxus in Dis. Two oddities.

Completed by the third.

The last one completed the duo in the form of a Hobgoblin. Such a kind rarely left their domain or that little mortal dominion. They were red-skinned goblinoids, belonging to a different God. And that one was quite aged, salt and pepper, yet showed a martial stance even as he was sitting near the pile of trinkets, legs crossed with his hands on a longsword.

However, that one was prompt to snarl at the two… or at Zerxus. Were there any hidden resentments between them? Or was it the Fighter’s natural predisposition?

But to return to the Tiefling and the Dwarf, the two clung to their cards. The chips were added, forming a neat pile before it was their turn. No one folded, no one backed away… And so, it was the moment to call out.

“Well. You must be unlucky. You cannot win against the house,” said Zerxus, dropping the five cards. Straight flush.

He saw the first cracks. The Tiefling bit his lips, the Dwarf’s eyes widened for a second. But they ended by nodding. The Tiefling followed, shaking his head while clicking his tongue.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. And I considered myself lucky in my years.”

“Nah! Ya were merely cheating with yer ass down. ‘member the centaur?”

“I remember the centaur quite well,” commented back the Bard, making a movement of rotation with his hand, inviting the Priest to follow.

Flush and full house, respectively. Not bad.

With a smile, Zerxus retrieved the chips, feeling somewhat satisfied. Each chip represented a certain value, one equivalent to the lowest artifacts. At the same time, the rarest had a value of around ten chips for each.

“Will ye pocket ‘em?” asked the Priest, pulling out a flask from his robes and taking a swig.

“Not yet. I shall enjoy seeing your reaction. But… As a good host, I shall have your rooms prepared.”

“Just one for us all,” interjected the Bard, raising two fingers. “We can share.”

“Nonsense. I am generous. I wouldn’t have you be cramped within one single room, forced to share one bed against your will.”

“Who said it’ll be against our will?”

A grunt from the Hobgoblin was enough to make Zerxus’ eyebrow raise… But his face twisted into a jovial smile. Fake.

“As you wish. Give me a few seconds to warn my staff.”

With that same smile, Zerxus stepped away. Technically, he could merely send a telepathic order. But it was a test of faith. He remained near the door, his ears listening to the quips and exchanges.

Maybe they would cheat and take some of the chips he piled on his side? Or talk about how they plan to steal from him?

“_Aye. That idea of yours was kinda stupid.”

“Nonsense. He will understand. Plus, we got all the time we need to sweeten the deal.”

“Stupid.”

“Aye, he’s right. Ya stupid horny fuck. What we gonna do when he gets it all?”

“Something tells me it won’t be an issue.”_

Curious.

Zerxus’s smile curled again, creating that welcoming mask he abundantly offered to anyone dealing with him. And he returned, his boots stomping on the floor.

But as he checked the table, the deck of cards had not been disturbed, nor his pile.

“I have sent my chambellan to prepare your room. Whenever you want, he will guide you there so you can rest.”

“Good.”

The grunt wasn’t coming from the Dwarf or the Tiefling, but the Hobgoblin. The Fighter growled, planted his sword in the ground, then stood up. His armor was made of boiled leather and mesh armor, intertwined with reinforced parts along the shoulders and breasts. It was a mish-mash that befitted the Goblinoid well as he sulked, hands against his belt, towards where Zerxus came.

And a mental order later, the Chambellan was ready to intercept the Fighter and to keep watch over him.

“That's done. Shall we continue our game? I think you are already at a deficit, no?”

“Please. It is nothing that can’t be undone,” answered the Tiefling, showing off his jagged teeth.

-

By the time his Guests called for a break, Zerxus had already sent his servants for fresh fruits, imported wine, a hearty roast… And finally, some bottles from his private cave. Such a sybaritic appetite was fortuitous as his Guests were keen on enjoying his generosity, drinking to their fill, and loosening their grips on their cards.

However, after his first win, Zerxus realized that the duo was… More adept than they were showing. There was no cheating, as per the rules. But they were rather keen on the cards, and on deciding when to fold or bet.

Or even raise.

Shuffling the packet of cards, even though the table had been emptied, Zerxus kept eyeing the pile of trinkets and bags near the Goblinoid’s sword. Those would be fine for his collection, and he would earn a portion of such a collection. But an infinitesimal portion, nothing more than three or four of the least potent and rare toys.

Nothing like the sword forged with the blood of a God. Or spell-woven threads capable of unleashing Hell upon Exandria. Instead, they were more mundane toys, such as an enchanted ring that allowed the creation of portals, and so on.

Mundane, in Dis. Mundane, in his collection. Priceless, elsewhere. He could still bait adventurers and other greedy souls with it.

“Well… Well. What do we have here?” he asked, closing his eyes as he became one with his domain.

For an instant, his perception stretched far beyond the confines of his body. It encompassed the walls, the structure, the foundations, the guards living within the walls, even the vermin thriving within the cellars.

Then, with pinpoint accuracy, his focus was on three flames, three souls, dwelling within their assigned room. None left it, and the Chambellan confirmed the Hobgoblin never left or made a mess within.

Therefore, it was with another confidence that Zerxus fully linked his senses to the room… And was welcomed, hence, by a different aroma that was typically found in Dis.

Sulfur and fire, blood and iron, had been removed.

Instead, the air was thick with incense. The aroma of sandalwood was merging with the tart scent of bergamot. The weave within the walls had been twisted and tied to that spell, but Zerxus ignored it as he continued to peer at the relatively small room. Bed. Bathroom. A few closets to welcome the guests’ clothes.

But those clothes were all on the ground, thrown haphazardly in random directions, narrowly dangling from burning sconces or the bed’s edge.

The display that motivated such chaos, in return, was one to behold. To tempt. To stir an appetite that had been bottled up for far too long. A thirst for the flesh, a craving for the touch, a yearning for the tangle.

However, this was different in many ways, in the way those bodies were all tangled, and there was one in the middle. Nothing like the placid embrace after a rough day.

And Zerxus huffed, pulling on his collar while he felt his groin tense and his genitalia press against his pants’ confines.

Such appetite, he had thought them gone, taken away by the Lord of Lies the moment that one had taken claim upon his soul.

But here it was, vibrant and awake, ready to sear his thoughts with the primal appetite.

One he had to satisfy by peering and admiring the lecherous display he was given. At first, he went on the Tiefling. Branded much like him by the touch of Dis, the Tiefling was softer than he was. Sure enough, his ashen skin was scaly in places, and covered with auburn hair. The same draping over his shoulders or peppering his chest, he stroked and rubbed. That body was lean and firm, with some pudginess along the belly and over the lower curves, giving the posterior a width that could be called callipygian.

Then, the eyes peered at the Cleric.

The aura of power and faith continued to cling to him, in the shape of a single coin dangling from a collar. Beyond that, the bald cleric was compensating for his lack of hairstyle with the presence of red hair all over his body, peppering over his slightly sagging breasts, his round guts, and his thighs as if he’d been painted all over.

His traits were soft, his hands at work while those lips were carefully teasing and titillating flesh as red as fire.

Finally, there was the middle.

Zerxus sighed, unable to resist that appeal as his hand drifted from his cards directly to his groin. To the tightening pants that were resisting the appeal, fighting fiercely against the temptation of an erection. Against the flesh desiring more than just observing. And though his senses were focused on the room itself, Zerxus could still feel the tension of the fingers fighting with the buckle, undoing the steel, liberating the waist by pulling the belt away, then the entwined strings holding the front of his pants together.

“Such… Deviant mortals,” he commented, scoffing to himself as he peered at what looked to be a scene of conquest.

Amidst the two, the hands behind his head, the martial Hobgoblin had the poise of a conqueror. His smirk was unfeigned. His smugness was complete. His worship realized by the two fellows on either side of him, their fingers tangling with his gray hair over his chest and belly, the mouth kissing the lips, licking the pits, sucking the sweat.

Whether Tiefling or Dwarf, the result was the same as they worked tirelessly to cover that red-skinned body with their attention… Whether by guiding the Hobgoblin’s jaw in a kiss, or going down to his lower belly to give a kiss and some love to one part of the anatomy, the Hobgoblin wasn’t actively playing with… And was the sole to enjoy.

As the Fighter enjoyed the touch and strokings, of having someone suckling on that greasy mushroom-ended cock… None of the Cleric or Bard could play with themselves. Gold adorned their genitals in the form of cages. Cock cages that were so small, so tiny, so crushing, they might as well be flat blocks crushing their cocks inwards, only allowing a tiny hole that ought to be used to urinate.

In return, the crushing presence had to be so tight that it pulled on the scrotum, making the skin taut… One ring pulled on the scrotum, while another followed the raphe, ensuring the two testes were split apart and almost appeared round within their respective ashen and fair scrotum.

A vision. A sight to behold as much as the glimmer from the precum dripping from their caged genitals. It dripped all over those tightened fruits… or their thighs.

Spilled fluids, they were ignoring, concerned solely with pleasing the Hobgoblin in the middle. One had his mouth tied regularly with the Hobgoblin, that was the Bard. His smile was unfeigned as his gargles, produced by the Goblinoid’s brutal tongue, echoed through the room like a song… One whose chorus was the moans from the Cleric.

And when those lips were apart, it was then to honor one discreet nipple a nibble or a kiss. Or perhaps to have that face pressed against the musky and hairy depths that were the Goblinoid’s pits.

Sucking, licking, sniffing, were all parts and actions the two enjoyed under the sweet grunts coming from the “Conqueror”.

The Cleric, then, went back to the origin, to the Fighter’s lips in a ravished kiss.

An action cut as he was brought down… Down in worshiping, cleaning, and licking any traces of fluids or grime that might have stuck to the Hobgoblin’s uncut shaft.

The Dwarf’s rosy tongue danced along the corona, titillating the frenum, went over the shaft, down… Down… Down to those gray pubes that were to be licked and worshiped, to ensure that shaft, almost as big as a forearm, was pristine and ready. Fine, even downright to the wrinkled red testicles.

Something the Hobgoblin wasn’t displeased by as he smiled wholeheartedly, and even extended one arm on either side to tousle his partners’ hair.

Such a display. Such a sight, Zerxus watched it as his fingers, driven by their own volition, had finished pulling down his underwear, pristine as always, and pulled free his cock. One that didn’t belong to any mortal but a Devil. One shaft that was long, thick, flared at the end, covered with ridges akin to scales.

Even the flare itself, the corona, had tiny protruding spines that were soft to the touch but daunting to the eyes, and pleasing to the flesh when he pulled on it, massaging on that organ that ought not to be desired and loved.

A monster of flesh, a trick from the Lord of Lies, with the jab that nobody would desire him again in this state. Monster as he was, nobody would yearn…

And somehow, Zerxus was feeling back to that day. To that moment, as his flesh had been twisted beyond recognition, remade to be a perfect enforcer. His tormented flesh had burned and suffered, the pain flaring even centuries after.

And now, as that pain was there, so were the woes of isolation and desires.

“Foolish mortals, doing that on my doorstep,” grunted Zerxus, clenching his teeth as if it would help with his current endeavor. But it merely prolonged the sensations and moment as he started to stroke the cock, his palm hard-pressed on the scaly flesh to yank on it, up and down.

Such was the pleasure he could get now, the sole way he had. And so, as he watched, nothing different than a voyeur, Zerxus sighed… grunted. And kept pumping.

“Foolish…”

“… Sluts.”

The Goblinoid’s voice was comparable to Zerxus's. In that it was deep and powerful. But the Goblinoid’s tone had a darker twist, an appetite that was unleashed as he had his hands over the Tiefling and Dwarf’s nape, guiding the two in worshiping and pleasing his shaft.

Like clay, they were bending and forced to adapt, twisting themselves until they were all facing the shafts, their hands covering those massive testicles, and their faces pressed against the enormous shaft.

Their faces, covered with grime, sweat, and saliva, were quick to press against the precum-covered cock and smear it all over their beards, their brows, their cheeks, their noses. Even inside their noses as they inhaled the musky aroma, blood and iron, emanating from all nooks of the flesh.

Even Zerxus could smell it, somewhat reminiscent of his… Somewhat echoing his desires as he grunted.

“Worship it… Worship your betters,” mumbled the Devil, answering to that inner voice asking him to dwell deeper within his sins.

In so doing, he echoed the Hobgoblin’s encouragements.

He echoed the way the Fighter leered at the two fellows’ posterior, digging within the plump and generous flesh. His fingers, calloused and powerful, kneaded the posteriors like dough. And none of the two were fighting or grumbling against the attempts on their dignity, too busy as they were to worship the cock in tandem, one going down and another up without a voiced accord.

It was something they were used to doing. Something in which they were trained to do.

“Yes… This is how you shall serve,” groaned Zerxus, his traits closing and his teeth barred.

His boots stomped on the steel floor, his left leg bouncing on its own volition in a physical tick. But above all else, it was his genitals that answered the call and need with the most eagerness.

His testicles tensed in the leathery wrinkled scrotum, his monstrous shaft was eager to spill fluids all over them… The flared tip seemed to throb. And that urethra was quick to open, to tense, to deliver a flow; the Devil watched as it went from translucent to intense white.

His breathing quickened, his face burned, his shame was etched all over his face as he swallowed his saliva and continued to peer.

The Hobgoblin, far from being done to having the two adventurers worshiping him and playing with their asses, went for their holes. Three fingers each, three fingers for each asshole. For a moment, the Devil winced.

But he saw the pleased expression on the Tiefling and Dwarf, saw how they mellowed out while their bodies quivered from the pleasure. Their lips contorted in stupid grins, their eyelids dropped, and their tongue lolled out while they rubbed themselves against the red shaft.

“That’s it whores. You’ll get your reward,” said the Hobgoblin, his voice full with disdain for the two in that moment. They were not his allies; they were his whores, his sluts, his breeding bitches.

And the two were eager in letting him abuse them, in having another finger inserted within them, clamping and yet lubed orifices… In having one entire fist digging within their wrinkled entrances, making the orifices bend inward while their owners were writhing on the beds.

Sheets were held and pulled, legs were kicking, saliva was spilled… And the worship continued, discontinued, and often broke apart… But it continued, nevertheless, pushed by the eagerness of the two to please that musky shaft. To suck on it, to worship, to have them sample every inch of the Hobgoblin’s anatomy who, in that situation, endured the display of love and care far better than his partners.

Zerxus kept stroking, edging. He fought against the need to spill his seed, to cum, to soil himself with that fervently bestial need. But he couldn’t even hope to pry his fingers from his cock. And stopping them? It was beyond what an accursed will like his could.

He sighed, dug his toes inside the soles, he had his back pressed against the back of the chair. His horns pointed up, his face pointed up, his entire body was tensed like a bow about to shoot… And then, there was the growl: the sigh, the grunt, the moment of perfect agony.

“That’s it. Get your meal, bitches,” said the Hobgoblin, his voice a growl. He had his fingers still digging within the orifices, the wrist way past the rims. And yet, the two were not even looking displeased. Sure, their compositions had crumpled into nothingness or sheer ecstasy. But pain? It was not there, not in their stupid gaze, in their mindless smile, in their relentless worship.

It was not there as they were fisted and their guts bulged from within, as they were nothing but toys that drove the Hobgoblin to the edge as he came… And came all over them, all over the bald scalp, the deer horns, the brows, the cheeks, the beards, the lips.

Until all that was ashen or fair had been painted white and they were chugging or licking the liquid that was over the red shaft… or over each other’s face.

The Bard’s hand even tentatively guided his fellow into a kiss, one in which they shared saliva and semen. At the same time, they were still massaged, stuffed, and abused by the Hobgoblin, who stole whimpers, tremors, and squirting ejaculations out of them.

Zerxus? He didn’t resist.

His eyelids closed fully. His lips closed, hiding away his lips as one shot exploded onward and upward. It ascended from the devilish cock, like a pure white line, until it landed on the mahogany table, amidst the cards and chips.

In its wake, it traced a steamy trail. In its wake, the scent of sex and cum hung heavily.

In its wake, it left a sweaty, panting, grunting Devil who hastily wiped his face… And managed to replace the sweat with white.

Still, in that situation, he rubbed his face with his sleeve, tainting the fabric with his fluids as he mentally pulled away from the room.

“Mortals… Foolish, all the same,” grunted the Devil, closing his eyes for a second, savoring the afterglow… Savoring that moment, he had been given as his cock receded back within his sheath… And his worries left his mind for a second.

Tempting the Devil 2

Whatever deals happen with Zerxus, they can always be amended

The air was less hostile in that part of the castle. Perhaps it was due to the floral plants, which formed a cloistered garden, or the nearby pools of steaming water, or even the scent of an alchemical concoction that allowed those plants to thrive in the absence of natural light.

However, the air was clearer, making it more bearable to breathe in. And far heavier with the natural perfume that was thyme, rosemary, lavender, and more.

Amidst all this, instead of where Zerxus would bathe and lie down to cool himself, a small table had been placed on a mat, with cushions placed all around to serve as supports while they were at another play.

This time, a tower of wooden blocks had been built, and each member was tasked with pulling one block at a time without breaking the structure.

Of course, all the blocks had been enchanted to block any telekinetic spells, and guards were watching for a trick. Same as the Hobgoblin, who, for the occasion, had stripped down and been happily bathing while his two allies were playing.

“How does it feel to lose, Zerxus?” asked the Tiefling, amused as he had the ascendant. He was far more dexterous than the Dwarf. To the point, he was always pulling three blocks from the structure as if to hasten the game. In contrast, his ally lost in the second round and was forced to watch on the sidelines.

“Aye, Dayn. Don’t tease ‘im like ‘hat. He could have sum tricks!” shouted the Dwarf, brandishing his closed fist but doing nothing with it.

“I have tricks. But not for a game I’m enjoying,” admitted Zerxus, though he flicked one block away and watched as the structure shuddered, but didn’t fall.

“You’re enjoying it? Perhaps it would be a good idea to up the ante,” replied the Bard, pulling two blocks and then extending a hand, inviting Zerxus to continue.

“If we do, you shall allow me to select the future game.”

“’nything with pain or torture is a no,” grumbled the Dwarf.

For a moment, Zerxus pondered. He grabbed his chin, watching the elaborate structure resembling a tower… But peppered with so many holes, it was like cheese. There were a few blocks near the base he could pull, that looked stable enough. But they were traps.

As for higher, there were only two available. But they were far too unsteady.

“I yield,” he said, shaking his head and looking at the little pile of chips the Dwarf and Tiefling shared between them.

“Not even tryin’?” asked the Dwarf, still receiving his parts.

“I know when I must retreat. Maybe a game of strategy? I have an enchanted room with a reproduction of a battlefield. We can use wonderfully crafted statues that will act as our soldiers.”

“This sounds like chess,” commented the Tiefling, scratching his chin. “Maybe Bulgar would be more adept at this.”

“He would?” asked Zerxus, curious.

So far, the Hobgoblin had been a fixture during their games. Sometimes hovering around, sometimes leaving, sometimes waiting, sometimes even reading. But the Hobgoblin never showed any interest in playing. So, having him join was… Surprising.

“Show him something that doesn’t involve luck or dexterity, and he’s yours,” commented the Bard.

“Checker, Chess, Go, Shogi, I have them.”

“What are those names? Never ‘eard of them.”

“Interesting.”

The voice was of the Hobgoblin, his curiosity stricken enough that he had been swimming close and then ascended the stairs to the pool. Water was sticking to his skin, his damp hair following the same nature… Even the martial chignon he usually wore.

Without a surprise, Zerxus noted Dwarf and Tiefling were losing their wits in that sight, and the Devil himself sighed, reclined back, and extended one hand towards the Hobgoblin.

“A match, then? I have something far more refined than those mortal games. It might need some strategy, but they assume you can compete against me. Twenty chips each?”

“I don’t play for gold.”

“We are tied in a contract that forces us to play until one side gives up. Are you giving up?”

The Hobgoblin’s traits hardened. The fists clenched. The stance widened. But then, he sighed.

“I am not giving up. Twenty chips.”

“Good,” admitted Zerxus with a nod, willing the blocks and previous game away, as well as the table, while he stood up and addressed the three. “I will lead you.”

“No. They will go to the room,” intervened the Hobgoblin.

Zerxus didn’t say a word, only cocked an eyebrow. However, the other two were looking at each other.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Are you hiding yourself from a potential defeat?”

“No. They have better things to do.”

A strange remark. But still, Zerxus didn’t intervene. The trio was far too curious and rich for him to lose the stakes. Fascinatingly, he won almost no ground since the card games. He wasn’t losing much… But at best, he earned one or two chips per session.

At the same time, there was something else that drove him to let them stay around, something he wasn’t about to divulge to them.

“Ok. Ye can have yer game, lad. We’ll be ready!” said the Dwarf, offering a smile and scratching his chest.

“Good.”

On that said, Zerxus took the Hobgoblin away while the Chambellan led the other two to their room as desired; he didn’t care.

He didn’t even care that Hobgoblin refused to put on clothes or even his armor, walking around with his genitals dangling between his legs.

Instead, he had another partner in the game. Someone whose skills and abilities were unknown. An oddity, a presence unknown to the Devil as he led the path through the corridors directly to ascend a few flights of stairs, and land in a tall room right under a cupola. The ceiling itself was adorned with a glimmering representation of the night sky, featuring a mechanical vault attached to a facsimile of a sun, a representation almost identical to an orrery.

Beyond that, the room itself had an outer circle covered with a mat, with stairs descending to a map of a country. The landscape was pre-existing, with vast mountains that would force players to walk around, and artificial rivers that produced the guzzling of a rivulet or the roar of a torrent. And towns that were fake, but who produced sounds to the likeness of one, should a man lend an ear.

It was a copy, a perfect representation of a country torn between two sides, each with its advantages and issues… And so, as Zerxus led the way, he pointed to both sides: east or west.

“Pick whichever you prefer.”

The Hobgoblin didn’t answer. Instead, he strutted around the wide room, observing the territory. The mountains, the rivers, the forest, everything to its most infinitesimal detail. And then, he grunted.

“West.”

The most mountainous side.

Zerxus nodded, turning eastward as statues appeared on the map around their locations.

Then, as if on cue, the room was illuminated by the apparition of the sun in the sky. The orrery was in action, displaying the cycle of the game.

“During the day, you can lead your units, the statues, wherever you want. But you can only attack during the night.”

“I move during the day. I select who I attack during the night.”

“Yes. You’ll see how units move by testing them. You can move them as much as you want during the day, but they are limited in how far they can go from the point of origin.”

Instead of listening, the Hobgoblin was already commandeering his units. He pointed at one and grunted an order; the statue followed, mimicking the trample of a cavalry.

Then, he pointed in another direction, and the statue went in the opposite direction.

He was catching up quickly.

Quickly enough, Zerxus was getting his defenses ready by the time the orrery’s sun was setting, bringing a red hue to the room.

But there was nothing to fight, so the day returned… And so, it was how they moved for the first turns.

“You are cautious. Overly cautious. You might lose opportunities,” said Zerxus, creating a wall of infantry before one fort.

“I do not know all of that game’s rules. I know you have tricks.”

“Hmm. If you lose a keep, your units won’t be able to move as far as before.”

“A trick.”

“A rule I might have forgotten to indicate at the beginning.”

One of many. The entire game was an intricate spell, blending rules and strategy. For example, the rules on how to move the units closer could be extended further. Or how the landscape impacted the performances during nighttime.

But the Hobgoblin seemed to pick it in the way it glared at the lines kept near the rivers.

They were circling each other… Fixated on sensing the other, the Hobgoblin was getting a feeling of the rules. Zerxus, of his opponent’s mind.

“You have yet to attack me. And yet, I am moving closer to one of your keeps,” said Zerxus. He had been moving his units along the mountain, keeping to them while watching the Hobgoblin struggle with the mobility of his units along the slopes.

So… Only one more turn and Zerxus could attack a keep.

“You are hiding more information,” said the Hobgoblin, strutting around.

“I might. I am a devil, not your friend.”

“For what you have been watching, you owe us more than that.”

“What are you implying?”

Silence from the Hobgoblin, but his red gaze was intense as he turned to the keep… And moved all his units away from it.

He was giving it up, and Zerxus took the keep, now having access to the southern part of the map. In this instance, his units would even move faster than before on that section.

But as he was about to gloat, the Hobgoblin was flanking a chunk of the frontal army, coalescing all his strength on one point that instantly destroyed three units at once.

“Good enough. You learn quickly.”

“I know. I am good at this.”

“Let’s see. If you lose, it’s twenty chips for me.”

“We can bet more,” answered the Hobgoblin.

“They might dislike what you do if you’re losing it all on this game.”

“They won’t complain. They know their duties towards me,” scoffed the Hobgoblin, returning to shuffling his units while Zerxus did the same.

“Their duties?”

“You saw their cages. I noticed the way you glance at us. How did you see? Not through the door.”

Zerxus smiled an instant, then waved his hand.

“Nothing as mundane. This domain is mine. I can see everything. Much like now, I can see your friends are… hmm.”

“They are?”

“Doing something.”

For an instant, Zerxus noticed the Hobgoblin’s smugness. The Devil’s expression soured, much like his joy at capturing the keep. So he pushed forward, ignoring what his perception could see.

But much like a scab, something was picking at it, so was his need. He had been answering those recently, and now they were eager to tell him to do what was desired.

Whenever Zerxus was not reigning his mind, he was pulled to the sight of what the two inside their room… Kissing, masturbating one another through fingers, pulling on each other’s nipples, and whatnot.

“Cunning of you,” finally admitted Zerxus, watching the Hobgoblin establish a strong frontline that was moving forward toward Zerxus’ capital. But the southern advance would get to the Hobgoblin’s capital beforehand.

“You can say that.”

“Using your teammates as a distraction. You told them what you planned and how you would employ them, so I couldn’t focus on our game. Brilliant.”

“No.”

“No?”

The Hobgoblin shook his head as the night fell inside the room, and it was another bloodbath towards each other’s capital. But Zerxus remained first.

“I didn’t tell them. When they’re alone, they’re fucking. They were fucking with anyone or anything before.”

“Anything… Aren’t you curious about what they’re doing?”

“Probably playing with one another.”

To counter the Hobgoblin’s dismissive attempt, Zerxus snapped his finger and willed an illusion of the Dwarf and Tiefling currently fucking, even with the Tiefling wearing a strap-on to fuck the Cleric’s plump ass.

It wouldn’t only be Zerxus who would have to endure a raging erection. But the Hobgoblin watched, and then shrugged.

“I am not surprised. They have done worse.”

“Worse?” scoffed the Devil. “Mortals have gone degenerate. The Gods cannot rein them in.”

“Gods? What does it have to do with them?”

“Urf. Please, they are our creators. Yet, they allow this to happen.”

“A Devil judging mortals.”

Zerxus’ brows ticked for a second. His red eyes glowed, and his fists tightened.

“I was a mortal before. One like you.”

“Then, what about being like one?”

“Sorry?”

The game came to a stop. No action, no other movement. The Hobgoblin merely glanced back, then pointed to the illusion.

“What about you get one night with them if you win?”

Zerxus stopped… frowned. Then smiled. Then laughed. Then exploded into a roaring laugh, bending forward while holding his sides.

“You! Ah! The gall! The guts! You are impossible! And abusing my hospitality! Never have I seen such absurdity!” laughed Zerxus, shaking.

“I assume you don’t want it.”

“No,” confirmed the Devil, suddenly recovering his composure and sending the mental order for his units to attack the capital. Without any defenses, it was a stomp. And a win, as the day froze and turned into a deep red.

“Twenty chips for me. And a loss for you,” said Zerxus as the units disappeared with the statues, leaving the battlefield empty and the Hobgoblin looking back. Angry, frustrated.

“Another game,” he grunted.

“Fine. Twenty chips.”

“The two sluts.”

“I refuse.”

“Twenty chips, then.”

With a nod, Zerxus straightened his back, his hands behind him.

“I will take the East, this time. Good luck,” he said, exchanging with the Hobgoblin as the units appeared on the map.

“You won’t win.”

The Hobgoblin’s statement was almost true. Almost.

The more he experimented, the more adept he became. The more interesting the games became when he exploited the land and units in ways Zerxus’ opponents had never thought about. He found his own tactics ossified and rigid when, three times in a row, he got bested by the Hobgoblin.

“Isn’t it amusing?” asked Zerxus, establishing a frontline with an infantry flanked by cavalry. A mix that rarely worked with his other opponents, but might as well do with the Hobgoblin, as he used few dispatched units. He could eat them, one by one.

However, each time he turned to the Hobgoblin, Zerxus couldn’t stop glaring at the illusion he produced… At the two submissive partners who were still going at it after hours of the game.

“They never stop?” asked Zerxus, curious as he saw the two seemingly riding… One of Zerxus’ guards? How did they manage to convince the burly Devil to endure the two’s embrace, to have his twin cocks bulging their bellies?

“They outdid three incubus in a match,” scoffed the Hobgoblin, watching as the sun set to order… Nothing. No, a defense. What was he defending?

“What? Are you planning to lose?” said Zerxus, chuckling. In that game, defense was a losing strategy. Even if you could be on 1-to-1 within a fight, the defending side would always get damaged. Sufficient damage would result in the unit’s loss.

“No. I am counting,” said the Hobgoblin, conceding while glancing at the illusion.

The mastodon of a Devil was all trembling and quivering, his bestial face tense while the Dwarf and Tiefling were licking his chest, gripping his hands to keep those mittens on their hairy posterior.

“Counting? How many times they… Fucked?” asked Zerxus, spiteful as he watched that fellow lieutenant give in to that appetite.

“No. How many times you can lose before you must give parts of your collection.”

“Hah! I won’t,” scoffed Zerxus. But something titillated him as the Hobgoblin lifted a finger. One ringed finger.

And the echoes of destruction occurred, leaving Zerxus baffled as he turned to see his capital under assault. All that time, the Hobgoblin had been on the front. Zerxus assumed he had been keeping units aside as a back-guard. But no. It had been so that he could flank and walk through the forts by using… A mage hand.

“Clever trick. What else have you in store?” asked Zerxus, bowing as the units disappeared.

“More. But you’ve got nothing to bet.”

Zerxus frowned. And groaned. He glanced at the Hobgoblin, then, with a reflex, focused on his pile of chips that were supposed to be on the table. Chips that were missing, all those gains… Vanished.

“You… No.”

No, he wanted to tell that he stole them. But even a mage hand couldn’t go as far. And so far, the Tiefling and Dwarf had been under careful watch.

Was he so engrossed that he allowed himself to lose?

He scoffed.

“You managed to eke out victory after victory to now. What then? Are you planning to leave with your gain and that favor?”

“No,” said the Hobgoblin, shaking his head. “This time. I’ll bet double.”

“Hun. Then I shall bet something of equal value. It will be-“

“A night with us.”

Zerxus blinked, scoffed, then a smile grew on his face.

“Bet the triple and I’ll consider.”

“Done,” said the Hobgoblin, with a lack of emphasis that was disturbing. As much as the certainty he had when he placed his units.

“You do not haggle.”

“I know I will win again,” said the Hobgoblin, that certainty chilling. And interesting.

Zerxus, in return, started to place his units. But he considered the Hobgoblin’s position. He still had a few units on the side, five, he could deploy easily. Those numbers weakened his cavalry, but he must have a plan.

“Presumptuous, are you?”

“Certainly, you cannot win here. And you’ll know why.”

Something told him the Hobgoblin said the truth. But Zerxus couldn't lose on the front. He had played that game for years and had fought in Dis to achieve his status. A mere mortal? He didn’t scoff, though he desired, while he glanced at the illusion again.

Another guard. Another Devil, while the former was taking a rest.

“They will not stop.”

“Not until I say so. Or someone else,” commented the Hobgoblin.

“They would listen to anyone?”

“If you have the will and the leash, they will.”

“The leash?”

“Anything goes.”

Zerxus’ brows lifted, though blood rushed to his face as well as old memories. Old, he would have preferred to stay down there. Forgotten, ignored, so he could instead keep… Keep imagining what could have been, the perfection.

“Let’s play,” he said, grunting and pushing. He wasn’t about to falter. And so, his first attack came out strong. Stronger, as he didn’t give any room for the Hobgoblin to maneuver around his army. He planned to crush it, and he would do so entirely. Even if for that, he had to gamble.

The Hobgoblin limited his cavalry? It meant it was easier to go around those… Three? Not five?

Two units were gone, missing. And as the day returned, Zerxus scoured the terrain to see them flanking the mountain, in a way that was very similar to a previous attack on the capital.

“Are you stupid? That I would fall twice for the same tricks?” laughed Zerxus at the impassible Hobgoblin. Still, for a sense of security, Zerxus displaced eight units behind.

Infantry, mainly, except for two flying units that could ascend the mountains without much loss.

“It is up to you to decide,” commented the Hobgoblin, continuing his organization.

But something kept titillating Zerxus as he stopped his advance. He had his main force retreat, giving ground over a river, before he had on standby those he dispatched.

“What trick do you have? A mage hand somewhere? A portal? An illusion? Their help in distracting me?”

“It’s up to you to decide,” commented the Hobgoblin, continuing his advance. His certainty.

He was literally about to throw himself against Zerxus’ main forces. With an army that had to progress slowly through his domain.

But he wasn’t relinquishing his advance. His progress. He ignored the forts, the way the units could flank him. And Zerxus continued to consider those options, retreating further.

“You cannot magically move those units with a teleportation,” continued Zerxus, as if to admonish the Hobgoblin.

“I know.”

“Nor can you use any spells to make more units appear than there should be.”

“I know.”

“And if someone else helps you, you are forfeiting.”

“I know.”

“So… What is your trick?”

“You decided for me.”

With it, the Hobgoblin sent his units forward in a dispatch, circumventing Zerxus.

It was a bloodbath. The units were moving, and Zerxus only had to hit them in the flanks. They died easily, though some passed. But he was beating the Hobgoblin, smiting him… Reducing his army to shreds.

Except… As his glee reached its apex, it turned to ashes. Only five units were there… Alive. But they were too close to the capital. Even if he sent his cavalry, it would be impossible. And his flying units, the fastest, were down… To the last few that had been on standby, too.

And Zerxus… Groaned.

“You played me.”

“You did something stupid. You thought I had a trick. I never had one. But this,” pointed the Hobgoblin with his ring, was enough to keep you on edge. You were too focused on where I could be, you-“

Zerxus cut in by raising one hand, nodding: “I did not look at the bigger picture. You managed to attack my capital because I gave you too much time. If I had attacked your front directly, you would have lost.”

“I would,” confirmed the Hobgoblin, nodding.

“Well. You have it. You won again… And you earned the night with me…”

“Another game?” asked the Hobgoblin, sounding almost smug.

For a moment, Zerxus clenched his fists. His eyes reddened further, his teeth ground one against another in a rattling noise. But he sighed, and then smiled. All those emotions passed as he saw the Hobgoblin… Not as a smug player.

But someone who desired to be entertained.

“Let’s try another game. Something simpler without chance.”

It would not be cards. But a mere game of chess. This time, however, they bet on nothing. Zerxus was at a loss, and he wasn’t willing to bet more for the day… Especially as the Hobgoblin was quick to find faults in Zerxus’ strategy or in exploiting his bold moves.

It almost left Zerxus drained, if not… for the strange excitation he was feeling at finding another player to contest with.

-

An appetite that was as relentless as his guests. One that barely satisfied when they reunited again at the table, for a diner. Since they were mortals, it was only natural to eat together. And memories of a forlorn past were enjoyable to relieve.

The taste of the food was somewhat ashen, making it more challenging to enjoy. But fine enough as the Devil chewed the somewhat elastic and bloody flesh that was that pork. Not the best, but it had been sufficient since the Dwarf and Tiefling were enjoying it.

“My lad. Yer a fine host. ‘Better than many a lord I’ve seen.”

“You honor me,” commented Zerxus, feigning humility, one hand on his chest. “I strive to satisfy my guests.”

“Aye! That’s what a host should be! A good one with good food and good ‘ale! Say, you were purdy busy with our Reddie!”

“Mhhm. We enjoyed a few parties. It was somewhat relaxing to have an adversary with the wits to compete,” said Zerxus, taking another bite. “Were we too long to your taste?”

“Alas! No! We have our ways to spend our time. Right, Dayn?”

The Tiefling chuckled, too… Before he took his glass of wine and took one sip, raising it.

“It is truly one domain full of experiences and enjoyment. Never would I have guessed Dis might possess such a treasure!”

“No need to flatter me,” said Zerxus, shaking his head. “You are aware that my protection extends to my domain. But outside, you will never find any place as… Accommodating to your taste.”

“Accommodating? Like the sight for sore eyes you offer us?” said the Bard, tilting the glass towards Zerxus. Not enough to spill wine, though.

“Do not be presumptuous. I am a mere collector with a predilection for games and wagering. Not the owner of a brothel.”

“Well…”

With that, the Tiefling turned his blue eyes to the Hobgoblin, who nodded… Eliciting such a genuine smile from the Bard as he returned to Zerxus. One smile spread to the Dwarf.

“No shit!”

“I did it,” confirmed the Hobgoblin, nodding.

“Excuse me,” intervened Zerxus, putting his cutlery on the table. “That was a mere wager. One silly… A game between your friend and me. It is of no importance.”

“To me, it’s more important… You have considered the option,” said the Tiefling, with a snarky and prodding attitude.

“Merely to continue our game. I have found myself compelled to wager more than the chips I earned. It wounds me, but you managed to best me.”

“If it's games that get you going, we could do the next one with strip poker,” laughed the Bard.

“Lad. You’d be betting your sweet ass on the first round!”

“So would you,” commented the Tiefling, with a conniving grin.

Zerxus didn’t intervene this time, but he drank. Drank as he tried to hide a smile, to hide the slight reminiscence of those moments of joy he had had before losing him: joy, pleasure, satisfaction. Dis rarely offered those, and so… He put down the glass.

Perhaps he could indulge in it. It was one loss. And… They seemed to be pretty adept at pleasing devils.

He clasped his fingers before his lips, searching for the good way to speak up as the Dwarf and Tiefling blabbered about foregone experiences.

“Maybe we could continue such a discussion in a more fortuitous place for such adventures?”

“What’da ya mean?”

“We will fuck, friends. We fuck.”

The Bard’s smile was met with Zerxus’s, as the Devil snapped his fingers and flames surrounded them. Everyone, including the Hobgoblin, until they stood past the threshold to the Devil’s bedroom.

And sure enough.

If the “guest room” were expansive, generous, and had all the amenities, Zerxus’ room felt like another castle within his castle. The first sight was of the baths, with powerful, steady cascades dropping from the ceiling into large, interconnected marble basins. And that, in a complete silence as the Devil advanced, guiding them through the sumptuous suite. One room was a wardrobe with all types of clothing that went as far as the Calamity and even beyond.

Another study, far more isolated and private, stood there with a spiral staircase leading to a trove of knowledge the trio of adventurers couldn’t see from there.

And of course, the bedroom itself.

Or rather, the intertwining of mattresses, pillows, mat, drapes, and sheets that covered the ascending steps of a pyramid with the canopy bed at the top.

A sight so complete tha-

“Can we have sumthing less pompous?”

“Excuse me?” asked Zerxus, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s all neat and dandy, but it’s fuckin’ pompous. Imma break a leg up there,” continued the Dwarf.

“What my friend says is simply… We could do it anywhere. It doesn’t have to be fancy.”

Well, Zerxus glanced at the enchanted sheets that brought him respite despite all the sorrow and frustration he’d experienced in his life as a Devil.

Then, he shook his head.

“Then. Suit yourself,” answered Zerxus, magnanimous.

“Already done.”

The Devil’s eyes widened, his brows dropped, and he glanced behind him to see the Hobgoblin gripping a few mattresses, piling them up, moving them down… Until it was all at the foot of the pyramid, like a mismatch.

And the Hobgoblin started by yanking his shirts and clothes away, grunting in satisfaction.

“Finally, no need to wear those,” he growled, the seams ripping apart.

Again, the Devil’s brows lifted… But a pat on the posterior and a naked Tiefling passed by Zerxus, his little tail swaying the air as much as that ample rump.

“I guess you will have to bear our naked presences from now on,” said the Tiefling.

And so followed the Dwarf with a “Aye” as he stomped, jumping from one foot to another to end on the mattress, wearing nothing.

Zerxus?

Well, he had rarely seen adventurers as lustful as those. Well, some were Bards, and the Tiefling fulfilled that reputation of insatiable creatures. But the Hobgoblin and Dwarf?

Still, he scoffed and threw his robe, then undid his shirt, one button at a time. He carefully worked the fabric.

“I am surprised how quickly you adapt. And how shameless you are,” said Zerxus, having those fingers dancing on the gold buttons. However, he didn’t receive a proper answer.

He got a grunt of approval… And two moans, cut by slurping sounds coming right from the Dwarf and Tiefling already worshiping the Hobgoblin’s genitals, the lips on the scrotum, or the erect length.

“You… Hmph.

Since decorum wasn’t needed, the Devil merely snapped his clothes away, no longer letting his pants fight with his genitals; they were striving to turn the fine silk into tatters. His testicles swayed with every step, so did his cock as it slowly left its sheath, revealing the precum joining the folds and the corona itself in thin strings that broke apart in musky blots.

That vision could be tantalizing, yet… Neither of the two “Sluts” was giving him the time of the day at the moment, until he approached and grabbed the Dwarf by the scalp.

“Maybe you ought to give your Host a bit of your attention?”

His suave voice aside, the Dwarf was gobsmacked. And a quick elbow jab produced almost a gasp from the Tiefling, who did abandon the snarling Hobgoblin.

“Sure enough, you can be afraid. Such length is not what mortals are used to.”

“It looks like how you described, lad,” commented the Dwarf, passing a finger on the underside, touching and stroking the bulging urethra.

“Of course. Just like a centaur. Devils often compensate with flared cock,” commented back the Bard, smug as always.

“Are you… Mocking me?” asked Zerxus, fumes escaping his nostrils for half a second, while his cock throbbed between the Dwarf and Tiefling.

“No, no. Sorry! I just meant something… Else,” mumbled the Bard, for once ashamed. “Perhaps we could… Go to the topic?”

“Aye. Big topic, Dayn. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Zerxus kept that frown, since it compelled the two to follow the indirect orders. However, a matter remained: who would worship him first?

A question answered by the Hobgoblin, who gripped Dayn by his tied hair and pulled him between his legs. Fingers were slipped through the shouting lips, and followed an erection… And then, there was a different song coming from the Bard’s throat: all gurgles and slurps.

The Dwarf followed Zerxus’s gaze towards the Bard. Then returned to that shaft.

One cock that was flared, enormous, daunting for most mortals… For a moment, the Devil would have expected the Dwarf to admire and maybe back away or merely use his hands. He didn’t expect the Cleric to make out with his shaft. He didn’t expect those lips to press on the flared end, to suck on the precum-covered skin… And for that tongue, so dexterous and quick, to tillate his urethra in ways Zerxus had never known.

“Oh… Audacious,” grunted the Devil, feeling the warm and slimy appendage at the entrance. With a mere mental note, his urethra could close and block the prodding.

However, so far, the trio had no other intention than to be deviants who relished in pleasure, whether theirs or the Hobgoblin’s.

So… Zerxus allowed it. He sighed, relaxed his body as he went to sit on his knees, guiding the Dwarf to go on all fours. And soon, the Cleric’s lips were locked against his flared cock, the sizable tongue pressing the inner walls and stretching the entrance that was… Warm, velvety, coated in fluids, musky, salty… And yet, oddly pleased by the bold attempt.

“Audacious attempt, friend,” commented Zerxus, snapping a finger to will a few cushions so he could drop… A few twists later, with the Dwarf being pushed away for a second, and the Devil had his legs spread with the Dwarf in between, going at it to lick the length, suck the skin, stroking it… And the testicles alongside them.

More than that, after testing Zerxus’ erection, the Cleric leaned against the spire in his worship, his calloused fingers running up and down in a way that was… So pleasing, so tempting.

And the Devil threw his head back, a thin smile curling his lips.

“Continue. Worship me like you would a God, Cleric,” scoffed Zerxus, basking in the pleasure he’d been denying himself for so long.

Pleasure he’d been ignoring as he sensed the deft caresses over his length, pulling on the folds in ways he didn’t know he could. More than that, there was the touch along the base of the flared shaft, the lick along the ridges, the pressure along them.

It was worship. Something intimate. Something… Delicate.

The Cleric was not only exploring Zerxus’ body, but he was also noting the reaction. And after his experiments were done, he was carefully building the tower of bliss upon which Zerxus stood.

A monument to pleasure, to yearning… to intimacy. One from which, by again prodding the urethra while rubbing with his hairy chest and caged groin, the Dwarf pushed Zerxus from.

All to delve into the precipitous petite mort.

Tension. So much tension had wrapped the Devil’s body, tension he wasn’t even aware of. Tension that had plagued his legs. His arms. His chest. His breathing. His movements. Everything.

Tension that was melting the moment it met the pleasure coming from the Devil’s groin. The eyes rolled, the teeth narrowly scraped the tongue… And those hands remained a whisker away from the Dwarf’s scalp, ready to crush it with all his might.

And then. It was done. It was gone. Pleasure, joy. Instant. All vanished and left Zerxus panting and groaning as his groin was still shaking and pumping white hot cum onto the Dwarf’s face.

Dwarf who gulped it, licked it off his lips, even collected it as he smiled… And soon joined by the Tiefling, who went to lick that cum-coated face.

“Not as dense. But delicious,” was the Bard’s comment.

“Yes. But there’s less danger of bucking,” continued the Dwarf, laughing.

Zerxus?

He arched an eyebrow, glancing at the Hobgoblin.

No answer… so Zerxus returned to the two arguing, commenting. Even poking at his testicles, lifting them, commenting on them, licking them. At best, they were commenting and comparing his parts to a… Centaur?

“You’ve had experience with a Centaur?” asked Zerxus, curious… And moving, going closer to the Hobgoblin, only to have the two following him, like two dogs eager for a treat. His ‘treat’.

“Many times. One day, I was busy composing a serenade when dear old Carlos threw me on the scene, and fucked me in public… What a night!”

“I went on a belly-ride with them. They can be nice people.”

Zerxus blinked.

“If it breathes and has a cock, they will fuck it,” intervened the Hobgoblin, this time by snapping towards the Dwarf. “On my cock. Now.”

An order… But one followed such an order.

Despite the growl and grunt, the Dwarf stood on his legs, and showed his paunch belly that seemed far more full… And he waddled towards the Hobgoblin, ready to impale himself on the Goblinoid’s red cock. Not as big as Zerxus. But big enough to be a danger for someone unprepared.

And the Dwarf was going to squat above it, or to impale himself with the Hobgoblin’s help. Such a small individual, and yet taking such a length without so much of a wince. And he took a centaur? Someone as big as Zerxus himself?

It was edging on insanity.

As much as for that Bard whose lips were on Zerxus’ limp shaft, on the flesh that was engorged but not erect… The fingers deftly lifted the organ, and the tongue licked it. Dayn sucked it, worshiped it until the Devil felt the spark between his legs and resounding in his groin, followed then by the desire for… More.

And so, his cock throbbed. His shaft stood up and ready, a spire, a spear, a blade. And the Tiefling smiled, stroking the tip of the length.

“Now now, sir. Why not focus on me since you want to take me?”

“Audacious. Are you not afraid I am doing it to take your soul?” asked Zerxus, laughing, feeling the desire to jab at the Bard.

“Taking my soul? I have something that’s more pleasing to take,” said the Bard without catching his breath, not even as he stood up, entirely, leaned forward, and kissed Zerxus. Tongue met with tongue, lips with lips, breath with breath. It was new, it was old, it was a memory.

Zerxus closed his eyes while having his hands on the Tiefling’s arms, holding him steady as they kissed, as he sampled the taste coming from the Hobgoblin as much as his own. As he felt the Bard was dexterous not only with his fingers but in love-making. Up until their lips parted, joined by a thread of saliva… And the Devil shook his head.

“Never have I seen mortals so promiscuous.”

“From where I come from, I am not the only one. There’s a place you’d like to visit,” said the Tiefling, leaning and turning so he could be on the Devil’s lap, sideways, while having his fingers creeping along Zerxus’ length. And as if he had received the instruction from his friend, that fiendish Bard was quick to press all the buttons of the Devil’s anatomy: whether on pressing the ridges with the right angle, or teasing the spines and corona with a digit, it made Zerxus huff.

Huff, grunt, groan… And give in to the petty need of putting the Tiefling in such a problematic situation by sliding his fingers against those plump cheeks and slipping two fingers in. Then three. Then four. But that hole wasn’t even resisting, and the Tiefling was quick to smile, ignoring the moans and groans from the Cleric and Warrior behind him.

“You don’t want me to talk about it?”

“I prefer to hear you moan and beg,” said Zerxus, gritting his teeth and showing a stern face. But sweat streamed along his cheekbones, and his breathing was one hell of a tell.

That and the surprise in his eyes as his fingers were digging in that wide asshole, only finding flesh that didn’t resist… And was sucking on his digits.

“Well. I know of a place beyond that world’s limits. If one day your master shall release your bindings, even a bit, you could visit it with me.”

“Is that… A request?” asked Zerxus, scoffing. No way would the Prince of Lies ease his bindings.

“An invitation. Much like… This invitation,” commented the Bard, leaning to kiss the Devil’s neck, nibbling it… And then moving. His legs passed over the Devil’s belly, only then to have his posterior pressed against the shaft, the spire sandwiched between the meaty cheeks.

“I repeat it… You are such a Fiend. Who is your progenitor?” asked Zerxus, curious whether he would get a truthful answer. But then…

“Someone you don’t know unless you leave this world.”

Zerxus scoffed. But Dayn’s grin was unequivocal… And so, Zerxus gripped the Bard’s posterior to lift it.

“We’ll see to that. But I’ll take something that’s indeed better than your soul.”

Alongside a mage hand, the Devil had the Bard on all fours on the bed while Zerxus was back on his knees, with his enormous shaft hitting the Tiefling’s cheeks, left then right.

“Better righ-uff!”

With one firm mage hand on the Bard's scalp, Zerxus forced the Bard’s head down against the mattress, silencing him. Silencing while the Devil extended one leg, changed his angle… And had again his cock pressing against those cheeks, but with one angle that was perfect to… Go at it.

One leg stretched, another balanced on his knee, his cock rubbing against the entrance, the Devil was… Ready.

He sighed, glanced at the Hobgoblin who was happily fucking the Dwarf, holding onto the tinier male’s thighs to push him up and down.

And then, the Devil glanced down at the Bard holding onto the sheets, seemingly ready for one brutal intercourse.

“Way better,” said the Devil as he licked his lips, pressed his cocktip against the entrance.

And the hole, far too used to big penetration, didn’t resist. It was almost the opposite, as if it ushered Zerxus’ cock inside with those weak suctions, those weak clasping.

And the Devil advanced.

One push… And more than one-third was inside. Already, the Bard’s belly bulged, and that breathing turned into huffs. The spines must have had their effects on rubbing the inner walls. And the ridges must be right by the Tiefling’s prostate when the Devil sighed, stopping.

“You must regret taking me inside you, now,” said Zerxus, smug.

“More… dick, please. More,” moaned the Bard in return, even managing to shake his legs and posterior like a whore.

And… Zerxus chuckled, giving that posterior a firm smack.

“I could take that as a request,” commented Zerxus, watching his fellow.

The Hobgoblin was all inside the Cleric, a grumbling and moaning mess. But more than that, a strange glow swirled around the Hobgoblin, who looked bigger. And angrier. And stronger. Much stronger as he made the Cleric bounce on his cock. The result was exciting to see, odd. Amusing as that enormous red cock was partially bulging through the paunch gut. But by the second, that skin was distending further and starting to take on a rotund appearance.

And far from trembling from the pain of having his guts swollen, the Dwarf was… Cumming. His tiny golden cage was dripping with fluids.

Probably no different than the weak Bard whose head was kept against the mattress, not even allowed to lift it for a second.

There was no respite, no break… No way for the Bard to squirm his way out despite the orgasm shaking his body and the pitiful droplets squeezing through the golden cage.

And Zerxus? He… Somehow relished the moment. He smiled, licking his lips as he advanced his hips more, feeling the hole clenching again as if it could slow him.

But slow it didn’t. Stimulate it did. And elicit a groan of appreciation, it continued.

A gravely groan as the Demon felt his groin flare with need and pleasure. But he was not entirely in, only two-thirds. Yet, it was enough to have the Tiefling trembling as if in his grasp… And to have that belly imprinted with the sheer shape of that ridged cock.

One bulge that grew again when, with a thrust, the Devil finally… Inserted himself entirely, his nuts smacking against the Tiefling’s cheeks and his own genitals.

A gasp ensued, then a muffled moan.

“Alas. I hope you do not regret our accord,” said Zerxus, gloating.

But the answer was not a pitiful, muffled begging, but more swaying hips.

“Fine. Then I shall show you why we are the most dangerous fiends to deal with,” said Zerxus, glowering in that moment. In that power he held over another. In that domination.

It was primal and instinctual. It was… perverse.

But it was an appetite he could indulge in without much regret, without feeling torn by his former vows.

And he pulled back, feeling the lubed orifice slurp on the length. He felt the rim again clenching, weakly, pathetically. He felt the hips sway more… He watched the legs quiver.

He heard the moan.

And at the quasi apex, at the edge between flesh and air… Well, Zerxus hit back and inside.

The cry was muffled. But powerful.

The Bard’s lungs were emptied, followed then by quick, shallow breaths.

But Zerxus had thrust fully in, enough for his wide testicles to smack against the Tiefling, to have the poor Bard cumming again… And for the belly to bulge again from the nestled cock.

“Let’s… Spice up the moment,” said Zerxus, snapping his fingers.

It was not a blessing. But it was enough of a quick to ease the Tiefling as the Devil was pulling again… And punching in.

Another cry, another moan. And another cumshot. One of many, if Zerxus willed it.

And he did. He did as he leaned forward, replacing his mage hand with his own, while using the other to balance himself in a precarious posture. One in which his legs and hips were doing all the works in… penetrating, assaulting, conquering that asshole that was not even resisting.

“Fret not. We can do it all day and night and more,” laughed Zerxus, gloating and enjoying the cries of pleasure, the whitening knuckles, and the inner walls somewhat closing on him.

On his cock that was massaged whenever he moved, even one little inch.

But he did more than one inch.

He moved with purpose… He fucked with purpose.

And below, the Tiefling’s body was nothing but a toy. He smiled, grinning in response to what his nature desired of him. And he conquered, crushed, hit as the poor Tiefling was a groaning mess, his legs widening and his hips dropping.

Yet a mage hand stopped that, stopped the Tiefling from slipping and dropping his raised-up posterior. And another was on those tufty testicles, squeezing them whenever the Devil was not smacking them with his own.

A mage hand that was, soon to be useless, as the Devil was going faster and faster.

Even the moans and groans from the Dwarf and Hobgoblin were silenced, erased, crudely sent to the void compared to the unleashed assault Zerxus did. To the thunder of grunts and growls, to the hiss and spit flying, to the weak moans and muffled begging.

To… The deafening hit of those hips meeting and testicles beating.

And the Devil, above, smiled like he was blissful.

And he was.

He was as he was at the top, climbing the tower of pleasure and bliss like he did before with his former Husband. But this time, it was not through lovely caresses, kisses, and affection. It was through that brutal taking in which the Bard offered himself, like a sacrificial lamb.

“Yes! Take it! Take me! Slut!” shouted Zerxus, no longer denying the words at his lips.

He shouted, insulted, and snarled while his grip on the Bard’s scalp remained the same.

His legs pumped faster and faster, his immortal body not even tiring or becoming sore from such exertion.

And he… Was grinning, ear to ear.

His eyes were wide, shooting glances at his fellow and the Slut.

Then down… Down as he felt ready.

“Get… prepared, whore,” said the Devil.

The Bard was ready. His hips swayed again. And even his spaded tail wrapped around Zerxus’ hips, leaving no choice.

No choice as the Devil leaned forth, almost ready to bend his spine further to lick the sweat of that nape, to bite it… While he penetrated the Bard one last time… And locked his hips.

Finally. Joy, ecstasy. Another orgasm.

One in which his testicles lifted and clenched. In which, his entire body tensed. In which, he released a tidal flood.

In which… The Bard was again trembling, his legs quivering. In which… Those guts were getting rotund and swollen with fluids. In which… The Tiefling's prostate was being crushed.

Pleasure and satisfaction, bliss, were all Zerxus experienced in that instant as he threw his head back. And sighed, feeling all the tension within him appeased. Leaving him almost at peace. With himself, with what he was. What he just did.

And then, he inhaled, pulling slowly back. He dissipated his mage hands at the end, releasing the spell that held the Tiefling up.

There, the Bard dropped on his swollen belly, producing the equivalent of a squeeze on his guts. All the fluid within, then, had no other direction but to exit through the abused entrance, in a cascade of cum that coated Zerxus’ groin and legs as he smiled at the sight. That hole was no rosebud, but it was darn close. And that pinkish circle of swollen flesh had an appeal when the Devil touched it, stroked it, pushed it back fully inside… While glancing at the Hobgoblin and the Dwarf.

The latter was gobsmacked and excited. The second arching a brow.

And Zerxus patted the Bard’s posterior, eliciting a weak plea from it: “More.”

“I promise,” said Zerxus, smug. “I didn’t break him. You can still use him. If you are eager for a trade.”

Tempting the Devil: Epilogue

Finally, Zerxus saw the light. In a different way than most expect when we talk of “redemption”

With a smile, Zerxus kissed Eleisus. The Dwarf’s mouth was soft, eager, and that tongue wasn’t as pushy as Dayn’s. Therefore, it was a pleasure for Zerxus to ravish it, to have his fingers dancing on the erect nipples while another type of kiss was occurring on the opposite side.

With his red hands on the plump cheeks, Redmos was happily eating and sucking on Eleisus’ gaping and cum-filled orifice, all the while giving the Dwarf’s balls a few squeezes.

A situation of cooperation, Zerxus was almost glad to experience. But then, after a little while, the poor Dwarf was… Cumming and his shot hit the cards on the table as well as some of the chips.

“You lose, Eleisus,” said Zerxus, his voice soft as he watched the aging Dwarf groan… And grunt. And frown.

“Not gonna happen again,” said the Dwarf, though his weak legs were telling the opposite as he was brought back on the Hobgoblin’s lap, to be fingered. “And ya. Ye could’ve been less brutal with the tongueplay!”

“I had to participate for the bet,” shrugged the Hobgoblin, three fingers inside the Dwarf’s hole.

“It is no problem. We only traded sexual favors, did we? We have many more chips to exchange,” said Zerxus as he snapped. The cum on the table vanished, and the pinkish chips, adorned with the head of a winking human, appeared near the pile of skull-faced ones. Sexual favors and trinkets.

It wasn’t a one-for-one trade, but it was enough to make the situation far more enticing.

“But I wonder if you have the stamina to endure what you owe me,” said Zerxus, adjusting his bulge between his pants.

“About that.”

It was Dayn’s turn to appear from behind a door. A trail behind him while a Devilish guard closed the door behind, seemingly exhausted.

The Tiefling was truly shameless and, like the others, he strutted around naked now… Flaunting his caged genitals that were attracting the eyes and tempting the souls. He was worse than a succubus when he desired it.

“Well? Are you considering backing out of our deal, Dayn? You know you will forfeit all your gains and my protection.”

The Tiefling chuckled, approaching the Redmos and Eleisus, kissing the latter… And patting the former on the shoulder before whispering something to those Hobgoblin long ears.

Maybe a nibble, too, while Zerxus dropped the cards on the table.

“I suppose I could do that for you,” said the Devil, watching with one sidelong glance the Tiefling approach, summoning a contract. “I could also secure your departure for a favor.”

“And what about our favor?”

Zerxus blinked, then focused on the Tiefling… Then the two that were coming close…. No, only Redmos, who went along, giving his partner a fingering. Teasing that orifice during a deal. It was no different than their recent games with Redmos fucking them… or the two sluts sucking Zerxus and Redmos during their games.

“What favor?”

“The first favor. The reason we came here? You didn’t forget about it.”

The Devil scoffed, only to watch Dayn moan… Groan… And to almost cum. But it was only precum.

“I don’t know the gist of it, Dayn. Contrary to you, I have been forthcoming. But fine. What is your desire? Leave this place? Keep what you currently have?”

“No. Nothing so serious, lad,” laughed Eleisus. “Not from us. Not from that lad.”

Zerxus was curious, but he turned. The chair and body faced Dayn, Eleisus, and Redmos… And if Dayn was busy, Eleisus had all the time to waddle closer, patting Zerxus’ lap while the Bard was finally cumming hands-free. He loved to do that. They loved to do that… Even Redmos sometimes indulged in it while getting rimmed. And Zerxus did, as well as when enjoying those sounding rods.

So, he waited. He didn’t show any sign of frustration. Merely, he listened as the Bard sighed, inhaled, and smiled back.

“What is the favor, Dayn?” asked Zerxus, feeling a hand on his groin and the blood rushing to it. Damn Eleisus.

“We would like free passage from the Prime to your domain. Completely.”

“Planning to leave like that? Not surprised anyone would desire to leave such a dreary place,” commented Zerxus.

And so… With that quip, Zerxus smiled. Smiled while the Cleric laughed. At the same time, the Bard had a conniving smile.

“So, you want the freedom to leave and come back whenever you desire? Without any restraints?”

“And invite friends. Might have sum lads that might love to see ya, Zerxus,” added Eleisus, giving Zerxus’s bulge the affection it desired… And needed. “Less the death games.”

“I might lessen the rules about that, with enough arguments,” replied Zerxus, one elbow on the table.

“Maybe one visit every month?”

“Every month? And how could I bear to be so far away from my favorite sluts?” asked Zerxus, snapping his fingers to lift the Cleric… And have him on his lap, so he could access and finger that hole. Sure enough, he was still full from their previous fuck. They only need one or two to reinforce their stamina, and they’d never take a break.

“Are you loving us so much?”

“You are among the lucky few I’m making an effort to remember the names,” said Zerxus, smug… And even more smug by inserting another finger inside the Dwarf.

“Lucky us,” said Redmos, crossing his arms after wiping his fingers on Dayn’s back.

“Hence. I need more than a vague promise.”

“Hmm… I could lower it to every two weeks,” said Dayn, eliciting a scowl from Zerxus.

“Keep a hostage,” said Redmos, cutting in.

“Heh?”

Dayn’s surprise was unfeigned. Eleisus? He might have been, if he hadn’t been trembling again. Perhaps the Hells affected their libidos, too.

It could be interesting to see how they might end up after their deaths.

“Keeping a hostage? More like a guarantee, we are friends. But such… an offer tempts me. I will offer free passage to my Domain and to anyone who bears your blessings. As long as nobody abuses the rules of hospitality. And are willing to play.”

“Gambling as long as it’s not their souls,” moaned Eleisus, finally participating.

“I might agree if they can bring trinkets or are open to sexual favors. And your friends shall clean their losses before leaving.”

“That’s no problem. We’ll see to it,” agreed Dayn, nodding.

“And…” added Zerxus, hiding his face for a second. “I might invite a few partners of my own. They will follow the same rules as I.”

“Someone is thinking big,” commented Redmos.

A comment that was right as Zerxus extended one hand.

“Nothing in our duties says we cannot corrupt the mortals' souls with pleasure. And your ‘casinos’ and ‘brothels’ are far too tame compared to what we can do here,” explained Zerxus, with a chuckle. “It might make our existence in Dis more bearable.”

“Our existence? More bearable?”

“A situation between my partners and me. Shall we shake it?”

“Sure. Right, guys?”

“I agree.”

“Can I be the first to stay?” added Eleisus, his cage again damp.

-

_The smell of sex clung high in the air, as much as the imported spirits coming from all the continents and beyond. The hints of blood were there, too, but limited. Faint. Imperfect. But adding to the chaos of desires, sex, and bodies, throwing at one another. Such was the vision maintained in the Domain.

A toast was made, with two glasses clinging together, then three, then four._

_And so… They drank, reclining on the sumptuous sofa of what had been a study before. The very same study was placed near the new observatory. Steadily, the Domain was expanded, and most Lords were making an effort to feign ignorance about that. Whether it was through favors or personal interests, Zerxus’ domain was growing and expanding in a truly tentacular fashion.

A fashion that even expanded to his collection, as anyone wanting to become a “Friend” had to pay a price in trinkets. At that point, there was no need to act or even wager to have that collection growing and becoming more tempting each day.

Waging and betting were almost gone… Almost._

But here he was… Holding the cards at the table, while surrounded by Demons of all sorts. On his side, almost all skull-faced coins were his. All of the Hoard from the original three. And everyone was eager to see the end. To see how after decades of playing, it would end up.

Redmos was still the same Hobgoblin. Wisened, older, with his red skin graying and his wrinkles visible. But like wine, he was getting better with age. Even if his scowl was quite menacing as he held the cards.

“I continue,” said the Hobgoblin, adding the last skull-faced coins he possessed. And Zerxus smiled.

The Devil had not changed at all… Likewise, to some of his favorite “friends”.

Eleisus? He hadn’t taken any wrinkles. His elongated stay in Dis had been favorable to him. And though he was a good partner at the table, he was better… Taking his meal from the source. Underneath the table, the Dwarf was gargling and gulping down the Fiendish Semen without even breaking a sweat. His neck was collared, his leash tied to the Devil’s testicles, but he was not one to fight his bindings as even breathing was optional when blessed by a lord of Dis.

“Are you certain? You could have folded.”

“A Hobgoblin never retreats,” said Redmos, ignoring the sound of suction, the awe-inspired shouts, or the crowded mix of mortals and fiends eager to watch or get fucked in the meantime.

“I remember a time you retreated to beat me. I’ve got my hand on the mage who created the plateau, and he gently offered to improve it if I spared him.”

“You did?”

“No. But he’s here. Should you want to up the ante.”

“Not yet,” said Redmos, passing a hand underneath the table.

And with a rough hand, he forced Dayn to swallow his cock whole.

The organ, throbbing and hard, did bulge through the Bard’s throat… But nothing like what bulged inside the Cleric’s throat… Or even through their bellies as the two were impaled on both ends: cock on one side, two-ended dildo on the other. What a way to make the party more spectacular when, on one side, the Hobgoblin and Fiend were betting gold. And on the other side, they were betting who would be railed by all the Guards of the domain for the next three days. No. Zerxus didn’t even have to bother with his troops' morale. In the end, there would be a loser, a winner, and two sluts who would be too eager to be abused to follow their little play.

“Alas. I call. Let me see how well you fare, my friend,” said Zerxus, dropping the cards face-up while joining his hands underneath his chin.

The cards were speaking for themselves. Royal flush for the Lord. And there would be no other way tonight.

Redmos looked at it, then frowned… Then threw the cards on the table. Full house. He huffed, grunted.

“I told you,” he said, speaking to the Tiefling guzzling Hobgoblin cum like it was his best day. “I told you I can’t play that game.”

“Now, now. Do not mistreat our slutty partner. He cannot play cards when he’s got his mouth full. But I concede, I won the last part of your collection with a game that doesn’t suit you.”

The Hobgoblin frowned… Looked at the card. And then groaned.

“Fine. Another game. Chess this time.”

“And what will you bet?” asked Zerxus, his grin devilish more so when Redmos grabbed five human-faced chips and threw them on the table.

“Favors? That will do. But…”

As the Devil spoke, he lifted one index finger. The Hobgoblin’s brows lifted, following the digit while the Devil kept the posture… Smiled. And a muffled moan escaped from underneath the table.

Cum. Someone came, and for once, it wasn’t the Dwarf whose belly was now dragging against the floor, so stuffed he was like a barrel.

“We’ve got a winner,” applauded Zerxus as the table vanished… Instead, showing the trio naked, and Zerxus wearing almost nothing but his vest.

As expected, the cum puddle was between Dayn’s wobbly legs, coming right from his golden-caged genitals. And the cum-addicted Tiefling made an effort to spit out Redmos’s cock before he looked over his shoulder, towards Zerxus.

“Damnit. I lost to you,” said the Bard, with a grin.

A nod came from the gagged Dwarf, still tied to Zerxus cock… Before the Devil undid the attaches and yanked the retching Dwarf from between his legs to have him on his lap. To have him impaled on that equine cock, with a hole that wasn’t even fighting.

For a second, there was a suction noise filling the room as the Dwarf took his “rightful” place. Completed by the stomps of Guards coming to retrieve their new “toy” for the week.

It was then, with a glance to the Tiefling and the trail of cum behind him that Zerxus returned to Redmos, ready to snap his fingers.

“Another game, then?”

“Always,” replied Redmos.

They no longer had to play for riches… Only for favors. More and more favors, that would keep them tied for eternity.