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Lillith was numb.

She felt as though she were completely detached from the lifeless doll that was her body. She felt so...hollow, like all her emotions were being barricaded from reaching her, yet she remained aware of their presence. Her form moved about with robotic listlessness, flicking her duster over the various surfaces in her Master's quarters. She stared blankly into the hollow sockets of a human skull on her Master's desk as she gently swept soft feathers over its polished cranium.

Who was this person before they were a mere paperweight for the demon's scrolls?

Were they a tortured prisoner like the man he so callously and cruelly murdered a week ago? Or just another forgotten servant who merely disappointed him in some way or another and paid the ultimate price?

How long did she have before she was the next morbid decoration added to his collection?

She really did not want to be forgotten. What would Tuare do without her? Poor Tuare...she had been so worried about her la-

"You have been dusting that for seven minutes now. I believe it is sufficiently clean at this point." Demiurge said flatly, and Lillith jumped with a start.

His servant cast a nervous glance his way, and instinctively cringed as the demon unfurled and fluffed a new scroll. He sat cross-legged in his ivory chair and pushed his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose, his lips pressed into a thin line. He looked irritated.

"Yes, Master. S-sorry, Master." She said quietly, and swallowed before she moved on to the next one.

"Do try to stay focused." He sighed, his tail flicking in agitation.

That was the fourth time this week he had caught her spacing out and repetitively cleaning something. While he did not reprimand her for it, he did seem exasperated by having to remind her on numerous occasions not to let her mind wander into the void.

Lillith could feel his rhinestone eyes on her, watching her every move like a predator. He had taken on a grim demeanor as of late and had little to say, as did she, and it had been a full week since he had touched her.

'Which is probably why he is so irritable.'

He initially seemed quite pleased with her after she had been (forcibly) recruited into assisting in the prisoner's interrogation, but once she began to show the ramifications of traumatic shock, he grew sullen and as the days wore on, appeared to be silently weighing the pros and cons of keeping her alive.

It made the air thick with a suffocating tension, which made her anxiety all the worse.

Lillith was running entirely on autopilot, but still could not force herself to eat much of anything. Her lack appetite as well as sleep was making her cumbersome and weak, and it was beginning to show. She couldn't stay asleep longer than twenty minutes at a time and it made her dizzy during the day.

While she still performed her duties, she was slow to complete her tasks and was visibly nervous, jumpy, unfocused and withdrawn.

'What time is it? What day is it even?'

To say she was faring poorly was an understatement.

A few days ago she noticed the Arch Devil had begun to intently eye her with the cold-blooded stare of a vulture awaiting from his high vantage point for his meal to draw its last breath before swooping down to tear into it.

Lillith couldn't really bring herself to care much or even worry, though. She felt so empty. Like a brittle husk on the edge of disintegration.

Would it really be so terrible to die?

Something had to change. Or she would end up like the rest.

But she was tired, so very tired. And done fighting.

She resigned herself to whatever fate was in store for her.

Lillith went to bed that night, genuinely hoping she wouldn't wake up.

---

Warmth.

It felt as though she were laying in the morning sun's gilded radiance. Yet the heat wasn't beating down from above, but emanating from below. As though she were laying outstretched on sun-baked sand dunes.

When was the last time she felt the sun on her skin? She couldn't remember.

Lillith's eyes were closed, and she relaxed in the soft golden glow, allowing herself to sink into the welcoming sea of comfort, and for the first time in years, she felt safe.

Truly safe.

She knew this must a dream, because all that had plagued her lately were nightmares, in both the waking and the dream world. And in neither had she felt serenity like quite like this.

'Don't open your eyes. If you do, this will end.'

If she opened her eyes, she would awaken. Lillith was no stranger to being in control of the majority of her dreams, as they were her only real escape in the brothel. The morphine they were given made lucid dreaming a regular occurrence, and she quickly learned how to harness the ability to shape the outcome of what happened. There were interwoven twines of her mind and her emotions, dreaming and wakefulness, and a sliver of true consciousness slowly sawing through it. If she kept her eyes mostly closed, only lifting the blindfold of sleep slightly, she could stay in this realm and mold it before the last thread snapped.

She kept them tightly shut, wanting it to last. Her hands wandered, and she could make out a fine, silky texture beneath her fingertips. She deducted that its tapering triangular shape was the collar of a shirt, and her digits precariously explored, tracing the contours of clavicles beneath the thin material. Her touch was light, timid, but full of curiosity.

Lillith vaguely realized she was lying on top of someone but in a purely innocent manner; it seemed the intended purpose was for closeness and reassurance. A pleasant scent filled her senses; it was robust but soothing and inherently male. She detected notes of woodsy spice and leather and black currant. She rubbed her cheek gently over his chest, and felt thick slabs of muscle beneath the fabric.

Whoever this was, he was formidable and strong.

She nuzzled further into him, this stranger, and sighed happily. A gentle embrace enveloped her, well-muscled arms wrapped around her small form and a soft exhale of breath into her hair tickled her scalp.

She couldn't remember the last time someone embraced her without sexual or violent intent. It was so...she didn't even know how to describe it. It stimulated something in her, like ancient memories buried so deep she could not reach them to decrypt. A Déjà Vu of sensation. And it was solace, shelter in her storm.

It made her sinuses sting as tears welled in her eyes.

"It will be alright, little one. I know it doesn't seem so now, but I promise, you will make it." The voice was a low rumble vibrated into her chest from below, rich with a deep baritone. Whoever it was sounded kind and protective, like Sebas. And he said it so sincerely, as though he somehow knew her fate were written in stone.

How could he possibly know? She was living with a Devil, a murderer, a fucking psychopath. It was honestly shocking she was still alive at this point.

But oh, how she wanted to believe his honeyed promise.

"But what if I don't make it?" She murmured back, unsure of herself.

"You will. You have survived at the hands of Devils for most of your life." He said, and sounded so sure. "As long as you don't give up like the rest. He hates that more than anything."

Is that what happened to the rest? They simply gave up?

Just stopped trying to survive like she was prepared to do?

Who was this person?

Maybe she could take a slight peek at him and she wouldn't wake up completely.

She cracked her eyes open just slightly to covertly peer at whoever held her and spoke so sweetly. Her vision took a moment to focus and adjust to the sleepy haze, but she could make out a field of violet and thin lilac vertical stripes.

"He may seem outwardly cruel, but he isn't always. I'm sure you have glimpsed that vulnerability in his eyes by now. He will never show it willingly, but our Creator put a little piece of himself in each of us. He made monsters, but he himself was not one."

Lillith couldn't stop herself from laughing out loud.

'He isn't always cruel? Are you fucking kidding me?!'

All she had seen from Demiurge was rage and hatred and bloodshed. The endless lust she could handle, but his serial killer-like tendencies were beyond terrifying and gradually wearing her down. She was finally breaking under the weight of his monstrous nature.

'Wait...how does he know Demiurge? He doesn't sound like Sebas.'

"I know, he can be an truly evil bastard," He chuckled, and a large hand gently cupped the back of her head, preventing her from looking up at his face.

'Please don't leave me...I want to stay with you.'

She huddled into him as close as she could.

"...but both man and monster are capable of growth." His fingers tangled in her hair and stroked gently, and she could feel the light prick of claws.

'I'm so broken...please don't let me go. I don't to wake up if it means leaving you!'

She felt herself being pulled into the dark void, the tranquil heat fading, and being replaced by the cool satin of her bed sheets. She hooked her fingers into the fabric of his clothes and clung to him with every fiber of her being, fighting like Hell to remain in his realm, or even drag him back into hers.

Lillith then awoke, and a single tear slipped from her eye rolled down her cheek.

She was alone in her bed in Nazarick, and he had taken his sweet warmth and comfort with him.

Even if it was a dream, whoever that was, he was real.

She could feel his breath in her hair, his individual fingers on her head, smell his scent. Those were details that couldn't be dreamed.

And what he had said rang in her head, and gave her newfound strength.

"I promise, you will make it."

She didn't know who he was, but he was an angel of mercy.

'I have to make it. I won't him break me, and I won't be another skull collecting dust on his desk.'

She decided that morning she would start trying to eat actual meals again.

---

***One week later***

"You watched him torture someone?!" Tuare gasped, her face etched with disbelief as to what she was just told.

"I watched him torture, AND murder someone." Lillith elaborated, taking a small bite of her sandwich.

She was at least eating again, and making small talk, the first few steps in her recovery, which was prompted only after the dream she had. It rekindled a fire of determination in her that had nearly been snuffed out.

Tuare covered her mouth in horror, her eyes wide.

"Is that what you had been trying to tell me?"

Lillith nodded grimly.

Tuare blinked and swallowed.

"...How do you sleep at night?"

It was a dumb question, but who would really know what to say after being told such a thing? It was better than "Are you ok?" she supposed.

"I don't...not very well, anyways." Lillith admitted after swallowing.

She kept what she had witnessed to herself up until now. She wasn't able to bring herself to speak of it, and each time she had tried a knot would form in her throat and she would tear up as she remembered the agonized screams and the man's empty stare as the life drained from his eyes. For a while, she stopped trying, but it was obvious something horrific had happened and Tuare couldn't get it out of her. Lillith had become withdrawn, unusually quiet, and often had a thousand-yard stare. Tuare drug her to the hot spring baths, but they still sat in silence, even though it was where they usually had their most fun and engaging conversations. That really had her friend worried sick.

Because she couldn't speak of it, Tuare tried guessing what had happened, but Lillith just shook her head in response to everything she surmised.

Seeing her friend so terribly concerned, and feeling guilty for keeping her in the dark, Lillith finally tried to force herself to tell her, and swallowed the knot in her throat. When she opened her mouth to say it, she promptly shut it and ran to the sink and vomited.

This scared the absolute Hell out of Tuare, but after seeing how tormented Lillith was by simply reliving the memory, she stopped asking, and resigned to letting her get it off her chest when she was ready.

It had been two weeks since Demiurge's servant had witnessed the gruesome act, and beheld the extent of her master's merciless cruelty; she spent her lunch break in the kitchen today to take comfort in Tuare's company. She wished she could reveal everything that had transpired, but she couldn't bear to admit that Demiurge had fingered and fucked her (well, pseudo-raped) in front of the prisoner, and she at some twisted level, liked it.

That was something she intended to take to the grave.

But what was worse, was that she was far more involved in his murder than what she was letting on.

Once Demiurge had the desired information, the captive was as good as dead. And he had only surrendered it because he thought he was saving his sister, or due to the spell Demiurge cast, HER, from being violated in the worst way. But should she have disobeyed and not done as her master commanded, she would have most certainly been tortured right along with him. She tried to convince herself that giving it up as quickly as he did was for the best, otherwise the demon would have prolonged his suffering, and would have undoubtedly done far more horrific things to make him talk.

But despite her effort to try not to think about it, it still kept her awake at night. Lillith was constantly haunted by the traumatic memory, and would see the man choke on his own blood, and the scalpel jutting out of his windpipe, bouncing obscenely with his slowing heartbeat, and heard his death rattles when she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

"I know. I'm just as, if not more afraid of him now as when I first saw him." Lillith admitted. "He's been watching me like a hawk. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells around him even more so, dreading the day I make the littlest mistake. And I haven't been sleeping worth a damn, so I'm not as sharp and keep spacing out. I'm afraid I'll forget something."

"You should make a list of every task you have been assigned. It's what I do so I don't forget one thing or another. It'll help you not miss anything, and hopefully keep you a little safer." Tuare suggested, and took a small notepad and pen out of her apron pocket, handing it to her.

Lillith agreed this was a good idea, and she did just that.

"Let's see...I've already dusted, swept and mopped the floors to the main hall, taken the garbage to the incinerator, thawed the steaks for dinner tonight, brought him his afternoon tea, ironed his clothes, shined his shoes, cleaned his quarters top to bottom, wiped down the bathroom and scrubbed out the shower..." She scribbled down her routine and when she got to the final task...

All at once it the horrifying reality dawned on her. The icy fingers of crippling anxiety gripped her throat and squeezed the air from her lungs.

'I forgot to restock the bath towels.'

The servant's lack of sleep had made her forget.

Every task had to be completed before 3:30 pm. To enter his quarters outside permitted hours unless summoned for was forbidden. She would have to knock on his door and hope he wouldn't be too upset.

Her heart plummeted hard in her chest.

Lillith jumped to her feet and didn't give Tuare much of an explanation, as she didn't have time; she just shouted "I forgot something!" and flew from the kitchen.

Of all the menial things she could have forgotten, this was by far the worst.

She never saw her master unclothed before, ever. Not once had she seen the demon remove his pinstripe coat, or tie, or even shoes or gloves. When he needed her to shine his shoes or iron his clothes he was always already dressed in another pair when he handed the other to her. She found this to be rather odd considering how sexually driven he was. At the brothel the clients almost always undressed themselves for any act, if not completely at least to some degree, if only removing their trousers or shoes. Demiurge only ever exposed his member. This led her to believe he loathed being exposed in the slightest or caressed in an intimate way that was remotely humanistic.

From her experience, he did not consent to being touched anywhere but his cock. It seemed the only exception to this was if it was necessary for their coital position, in which he would tolerate being grasped for support. It was an unspoken rule, but one she understood. Though it was quite unfair considering he could touch her anywhere, at anytime he damn well pleased.

Still, she didn't want to imagine what would happen to her if he had to walk out of the shower, entirely exposed, with nothing to cover himself, due to her failure to perform a simple task.

He would be beyond pissed.

Lillith hauled ass to the laundry room, clumsily bumping into other maid staff in her frenzy, who shot her dirty looks, but in her terrified haste she couldn't have cared less.

'Fuck them.' They weren't serving under the Josef Mengele of Nazarick.

She frantically gathered a stack of towels and fled to the 7th floor, never slowing her sprint because she knew her life might depend on it.

Lillith stopped to catch her breath outside of his personal chambers, panting heavily, her legs cramping in strained protest as she leaned against the doorway.

She hesitantly knocked, and waited.

No answer.

She anxiously knocked again, and still did not get a response.

Lillith carefully pushed the main door open.

"Master?" She called, and to her horror, she heard the shower running. Cold dread trickled over her scalp, and dripped down her spine. Her face numbed with fear.

'Fuck! Why?! Of all times? Why now?!'

She had never forgotten to complete one of her tasks before, and feared what kind of repercussion he may have premeditated for such a mistake such as this.

'He's going to get out of the shower only to see that I fucked up. He's going to be so pissed off!'

There was only one way to save herself.

She would have to sneak the towels into the bathroom, with him in there.

She let out a shuddering breath as she slipped off her shoes, struggling to steel her nerves. She crept to the bathroom door, stepping as silently as possible. She carefully grasped the doorknob, fighting to keep her trembling hand steady, rotating it as slowly and quietly as she could manage. Steam and wet heat billowed through the door crack as she covertly opened it, and she tried to accurately gauge the distance between here and the cabinet. But from where she stood, she could not. She had no choice but to take at least two steps inside.

The servant contemplated just leaving the towels on the sink, but then he would know for sure that she had forgotten. She was 90% sure the risk of being caught carried an equal level of hazard as him noticing her initial mistake. The only way she escaped this unscathed was by smuggling the towels into the cabinet undetected. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest and ears so hard she was feared with his inhuman abilities he would certainly hear it, and sweat beaded on her forehead.

Lillith peered around the cracked door. She swallowed to prevent a gasp from escaping her lips, and her stomach flew to her throat.

Of course the demon was nude, that was to be expected.

He was wet, which was also expected.

What was unexpected was that her master's body was not as gangly and lithe as she had half-expected it to be...

No, Demiurge was absolutely beautiful, and his dripping wet form was a genuinely a sight to behold.

His body was toned, but not overly muscular like some overly-inflated bar bouncer. He was all sleek and rippling sinew, hardly an ounce of fat to be seen, like a panther.

'Holy shit.' Her jaw dropped.

He was sculpted with muscle tone like an alabaster marble statue; and with his regally angular features, sharp, pointed ears and long tail he was like an ancient oil-painted depiction of the fallen angel Lucifer. His body was flawless, absent of any scars or blemishes. She watched with titillated awe as he slid his bare hand up the slick tile of the shower wall, his curved talons just as onyx black as his absent gloves. The chiseled musculature of his arm flexed as he ran his other hand through his dark hair as it fell over his eyes, sweeping it out of his face. The sharp edges of his cheekbones were tinged with a dash of pink, as the heat of the shower could be matched by a sauna.

The Arch Devil's physique was streamlined and mature, yet somehow ageless. Lillith had often wondered how old or young he was; she had always assumed with his demonic heritage he very well may be much older than he looked. But if she had to gauge by his build alone she would say between his late twenties to early thirties.

'He's magnificent...'

A calm sigh left his lips, a hint of his voice on the exhale. While his brow was knitted, as his eyes were closed in tranquil bliss, the rest of his face was the softest she had ever seen it. It almost made him look more youthful as it seemed entirely drained of the hardening rage and hatred that usually etched his features harshly like the rough smudges of a charcoal sketch. If it didn't mean getting caught, her curiosity would have urged her to glimpse his crystalline eyes without the glass shields of his spectacles. Lillith's gaze traveled to his broad shoulders and roamed downward, following the water droplets rolling over the firm expanse of his chest, running further down the sleek lines and taut definition of his abdomen and narrow waist.

Her master was physical and predatory perfection, built for a stealthy kill.

Lillith's heart raced with trepidation. For the briefest moment she imagined what his bare, heated wet skin sliding over hers would feel like and her pulse soared. A throbbing heat was rapidly developing between the apex of her thighs.

The demon groaned in relaxation as he turned, making her jolt with a start. With his toned back to her now, she snapped out of her daze of lustful admiration. Seeing her chance, she quickly reached for the cabinet handle and set the towels down inside, and quietly padded out of the bathroom. When she started to slowly pull the door to she heard the faucet creak as the was water shut off.

'Shit!'

She would have to leave it as is and hope like Hell he would think he forgot to close it. She grabbed her shoes and tiptoed away as quickly and softly as possible.

---

The demon sighed as he finished rinsing his inky black hair.

As he expected, his servant was traumatized by, and may have been psychologically shattered by witnessing the prisoner's death, which was rather disappointing.

Yet a necessary evil for not only the man's insolence, but also his own experimental purposes.

He had high hopes for her. She was the first servant to not recoil in disgust from his touch, but even more pleasing, find pleasure in it, which was so very promising. And what he found most thrilling was the unmistakable signs of sexual deviancy he had detected. He was looking forward to exploring that with her.

But then after he terminated the prisoner, she became quiet, distracted, withdrawn, and stopped eating. The trauma was gnawing away at her, and he had considered just wiping her mind of that bloody memory, but he valued the reminder it served of his Dominance and violent nature above her mental well being. An additional concern was that narrowly miscalculated Mind-Wipe could turn the subject into a catatonic vegetable, which would render her utterly useless to him.

Besides, if she couldn't handle him at his rawest, she was not the ideal Submissive pet he sought. It seemed when she had grown more comfortable with him and then gotten a taste of power she had allowed it to go straight to her head, and had forgotten who was Master.

He would not surrender the reins of control, especially without his say.

Not to a human, anyway.

The Arch Devil needed to visit his predecessor soon. He desperately needed to release some of this frustration before he accidentally (or purposefully) killed his pet.

And he wasn't quite ready to give up on her yet. If anything, she needed training. Perhaps with a firm hand to guide her she would learn how to behave. Looking back at their interactions, he had failed to give her much direction as to what she was specifically allowed to do when it came to sexually serving him, which was indeed an error on his behalf; but she did seem to understand his most absolute rule: he did not like to be touched anywhere other than where instructed without permission.

Maybe after establishing some clear-cut base rules they would come to a better understanding and things would go more smoothly for them both.

If she could recover from the trauma, that is. And he had a feeling that she might. She had dared to defy him before; and something told him she would not go down without a fight.

Demiurge finished rinsing off and stepped out of the shower, and immediately noticed the bathroom door was just slightly ajar. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he was well aware that with the white noise of running water someone could slip by his acute hearing. He opened the cabinet to grab a towel, and the stack inside still had the impression of a small hand on the surface, and it was gradually rising as it fluffed.

A sinister grin graced his features.

---

Lillith safely made it to her quarters and shut the door behind her, and heavily exhaled a sigh of relief.

'That was way too close...'

Her heart was still hammering wildly against her ribs, and her legs were quaking beneath her from adrenaline. She couldn't believe she made it out of there in one piece. She was sure at any moment he would catch her peeping like a perv and grab her by the throat to drag her back in.

With his mouth-watering physique still freshly painted in her mind, that didn't seem like such a bad thing anymore.

'Why the Hell does he have to be so damned attractive?' She felt her face flush and the muscles below her waist tense.

No. NO!

'Snap out of it! Screw up again and he'll shatter your kneecaps like he did to that poor bastard. And you know he won't feel bad about it in the least.'

It seemed no matter what horrors she witnessed him commit, she still couldn't help but to be hopelessly attracted to him.

'There has to be something wrong with me. My brain has to be scrambled after that fat fuck beat the shit out of me.'

Lillith needed a shower herself. A cold one. She walked into her bathroom, and rotated the squeaky shower handles until it ran chilly. When the water coming out of the faucet was like ice, she held her breath and shoved her head under it. Pulling back she shook her head and rung out her hair, trying to shake off her intense anxiety and burgeoning arousal.

Now she was freezing. She tugged off her shoes, unfastened the laces to and stripped out of her maid's dress and stockings, and set the clothes on the sink. She turned the water back to as hot as she could stand it and stepped in.

She drenched herself and scrubbed down with soap, trying to wash away the stress and guilt of the past week. With the hot water massaging the tension out of her sore muscles, she began to feel better.

'Maybe I'll make it after all.'

Lost in the cascading warm bliss, she never heard the bathroom door open.

The hair on the back of Lillith's neck flared in warning as she felt a dark, ominous presence growing around her. As she reached to draw the curtain back to peer out, she was slammed face-forward against the slick tile from behind. A very strong, heated and damp body forcefully pressed into her back, flattening her breasts and front into the cool wall. Her heart dropped heavily into the pit of her stomach as a clawed hand harshly gripped the back of her head by her hair, winding itself in deep around her soaked locks for greater control.

'How the Hell did he get in without me seeing or hearing him?'

"Any particular reason you would dare to enter my quarters outside permitted hours? My bathroom while it is occupied, much less?" She heard an all too familiar growl in her ear.

'I'm so fucking dead.'

"For-forgive me, Master. I-I forgot... to...more towels..." She could barely form a coherent sentence with the throat-numbing shock of him suddenly appearing behind her whilst showering and the overwhelming heat of her master's bare body flush over her back. His moist skin was soft and supple, but she could easily feel thick, corded muscle beneath the surface. It made her head swim and she felt even more unsteady, her bones now gelatinous.

She could almost hear his amused grin spread, brought on by her pathetically incomprehensible explanation.

"...Not good enough." He snipped, as if he had already decided a punishment. She had a feeling no answer she gave him would sway what he had already intended for her.

The Arch Devil plunged his claws straight through the transparent shower curtain, the ripping sound making her jump, and she had a brief but startling flashback of seeing the prisoner's ear being mercilessly ripped off his skull. A shuddering gasp fled her lips and she cringed instinctively, and his grasp tightened painfully and he snarled in response. Her breath started coming in rapid, short pants.

His claws tore a jagged gash in the curtain as he snatched one of her stockings off the edge of the sink.

'He's going to strangle me!'

"Ple-please, master, I-I didn't mean to-" Her apology was cut off as the demon shoved his knee forcefully into the small of her back to pin her to the wall and prevent her from resisting, and released her hair momentarily to gather her shaking wrists in one hand and rapidly wind the stocking around them into a restraint before tying it.

"Do not say you are sorry. Show me that you are sorry." He scolded her, and pushed her down onto the hard ceramic floor of the shower.

With her ability to balance now completely stifled, she narrowly missed hitting her head on the metal knob of one of the handles. She flinched in fear, afraid to look at him and still in mild shock. Seconds crawled by at a snails pace, and neither of them moved. Only the sound of the falling water and her rapid, feathered breath filled the small space of the shower.

"Am...am I per-permitted to face you, Master?" She meekly asked, still turned towards the front of the shower, her back to him and hot water running down over her head.

Demiurge said nothing, and instead reached down, twisting her around by shoulders, his ebony claws even sharper without the softening sheath of his gloves. They barely grazed her, but were like straight razors, leaving thin but burning slices like paper cuts on her upper arms. The hot water seeping into them stung.

She kept her eyes to the floor, still unsure if she was allowed to look at him without his clothing. She saw that his toes were armed with curved, black talons just as his hands were. A sweeping barefoot kick to the gut from the demon would severely wound, if not disembowel an opponent.

"Look at me." He demanded, his tail sliding from behind his back to lift her chin upwards.

Lillith hesitantly cast her eyes up at his towering form. Through the stray strands of his wet hair now hanging around his face, his narrowed crystalline eyes gazed down at her with enough heat to melt glass, and they were absent of their usual shield that were his spectacles. They shone like rhinestones, light dancing across the many finely-cut facets, reflecting chromatic iridescence within their prisms.

The Arch Devil's eyes were far more striking than she had previously perceived; without his spectacles to filter surrounding light, they shimmered with more color like opalescent topaz, rather than transparent diamonds.

Her gaze followed the trails the water that trickled down over his body, tracing his curves, traveling down from his face and lower to the prominent tendons of his neck, over the flat plains of his chest, roaming down the streamlined and defined muscle of his abdomen.

She genuinely stunned by the physique of his body. Never in her life had she seen such a beautiful form. It was the sort that could only belong to a god. Not a single client at the brothel possessed such a build. They had all been either overweight or willowy, or a cartoonishly exaggerated version of both. If anyone was built like him, they probably didn't have to pay for sex.

Her lips involuntarily parted as she felt an overwhelming heat uncoiling in her belly as her unblinking stare came to rest on the organ thickening and rising in front of her face.

His servant's heart began to race uncontrollably, her breath hitching in her throat.

Her master noted her silent and transfixed appraisal of his seldom-seen bare body, and he smirked haughtily before shifting forward to close the distance between them.

"You failed to complete your final task of the day in time." Demiurge stated as he leaned over his servant, bracing one hand against the wall above her, and she felt like she was shrinking beneath his imposing shadow. His other clawed hand reached for her, and she winced, afraid he may strike her down, but he didn't.

"However, seeing as how you did attempt to immediately correct your mistake..." The Arch Devil carefully threaded his hand through her hair again, minding his claws and slowly curling his fingers into a fist.

"...I will grant you mercy, and allow you to rectify your failure by completing another task in its place." He said mischievously, his smirk growing into a fanged and predatory grin, his demonic gaze burning into her.

Lillith swallowed hard, her heart pounding.

The Arch Devil pulled her face closer to his hips, and she was surprised to see upon closer inspection he was not shaven, but completely free of pubic hair; the area was entirely smooth and bare like it didn't even belong there. It was then that she noticed he didn't have hair on his chest, arms or legs, either. Apparently it was either wished away by magic, or simply naturally absent.

She help but be envious of that. How nice would it be to never have to shave again?

"Now, get me hard." He demanded through bared fangs. Her heart dropped and her face flushed at the profane command. "Suck."

But Lillith obeyed, fear still lacing her undeniable arousal. She timidly ran her tongue down his awakening length.

The rosy head glistened, jumped when she brushed her lips across it. She took the silky tip of his thick cock between her lips, scraping her teeth gently over its stretching, sensitive skin. Lillith engulfed him, lightly sucking, feeling the veins under her tongue pulse and expand. He hissed in response to the delicious heat of her moist cavern.

His swelling flesh filled her mouth, and she stroked her tongue across it in the tight space, and despite her lingering fear, she found herself actually thoroughly enjoying the sweet, clean taste of him.

Needing air, she pulled back, letting the organ pop out of her mouth. She extended her tongue again, slid it up the underside of his hardening shaft, flicking beneath the inflating glans. Her master groaned softly, and even with hot water rolling over her, she felt herself growing slick from his sounds of pleasure.

As she took the gleaming head back in her mouth, she could feel it continuing to swell, and she swirled her tongue around it, sucking gently. It jerked and twitched over her tongue; Lillith took him in to the hilt, and swallowed against it, squeezing the rigid flesh with her enclosing throat. The demon's hand clutched her hair tighter, and she looked up at him. His lip was curled and a concentration crease had formed between his brow, his wet hair falling in loose strands around his eyes. He stared down at her with a heavy lidded gaze.

His servant sucked harder, and she watched his lips part, and he bucked as he hardened to full size within her mouth. She pulled back slightly, still keeping her mouth sealed around his member. Bobbing gently, she flattened her tongue under his frenelum and sucked deeply, applying gentle strokes and she was rewarded with a gasping moan from her Master.

A pulse stiffened his cock even more, then again. She loved the pleasure she could feel on her tongue, that she could inflict. It was the only shred of power she held over her Lord.

She again cast her eyes up at him, and his gaze was smoldering, his body extremely taut with quivering restraint. He was indeed being merciful; and by his visibly tense, coiled musculature it was quite evident how aggressively he wanted to lunge into her throat full force and viciously fuck her face.

As frightening as the idea of that was, it also made arousal scream from her every pore, and she had to again withdraw for oxygen as it shortened her breath.

Lillith had never been more turned on by him.

She desperately wanted to run her hands over his smooth, statuesque body, to feel all of that indomitable strength and heated blood under her fingers; but she knew he would never allow such intimacy and it would only serve to enrage him, which is undoubtedly why he restrained her.

She hungrily watched a drop of water roll down his taut abdomen and merge with another, continuing to slide down towards the thick base of his shaft. She licked her lips.

Her judgement was still severely impaired from lack of adequate nutrition and sleep. Or she never would have done something so stupid.

Lillith was overwhelmed by temptation, being unable to move her hands, she could only caress him with her mouth.

She daringly swept her tongue up the rolling drop of water from the base of his cock all the way past his navel, between the long valley and shallow dips of his abdominal muscles, tasting his forbidden flesh. It was impossibly smooth, his skin searing hot and the aroma of warm, dark spice emanating from him was sinfully palatable.

'He tastes sooo good...I think I want to sink my teeth into him.'

A shuddering gasp escaped his lips, his eyes rolled back in ecstasy. He pulled her head closer and let out a filthy moan...

...And a split second later he recoiled from her as if her tongue had burned him.

He obviously liked it, but didn't want to like it.

Just like her.

Because it made him feel as though he didn't have control.

The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place.

Demiurge's bare flesh was unbearably sensitive, so much so he almost lost himself in what she was doing. Realizing his initial reaction to the intimate touch, Demiurge snarled with fury, a feral and guttural sound, and grabbed her by her shoulders and whirled them around, slamming her against the tiled wall.

The back of her head hit hard, and it struck a sharp bolt of pain through her skull and down her back. He was no longer careful with his unsheathed claws, and their razor-like edges pierced her flesh, blood running in erratic and splotchy crimson patterns all down her shoulders and arms as it mixed with water.

''Don't.'' He seethed with bared fangs, his gaze held potent poison, his chest heaving with rage.

Her vision refocused to discover that his metal-plated tail was held fast to her throat, the cool spikes pressing threateningly to her jugular. Her feet were at least six inches off the ground.

Lillith saw his eyes ablaze with rage, distrust, and a vulnerable uncertainty just beneath the surface.

It made her recall what was said to her in the dream;

"I'm sure you have glimpsed that vulnerability in his eyes by now. He will never show it willingly, but our Creator put a little piece of himself in each of us. He made monsters, but he himself was not one."

She didn't have time to really ponder what exactly that meant, or who had even shared this information with her. Demiurge became eerily still, his nostrils flaring.

He caught the scent of her fresh blood, as the steam of the hot water made the humid air all around them heavy and thick with it's coppery fragrance. His gaze darkened ominously, a hood being drawn. It overwhelmed him, made something flip inside him.

The Arch Devil inhaled deeply, taking in the blood soaked atmosphere. He lowered his tail, dipping his head down to drag his tongue hungrily over the inconsistent trails of ruby running from the wounds, his jaw trembling with crumbling restraint. She gasped, worried he might take a bite out of her at any moment.

An animalistic rumble reverberated through his ribs, and he brought her fear to life as he unexpectedly sank his fangs into the crook of her neck, puncturing the skin. She cried out in both pain and fear, one just as heavily laced with the other. The demon latched on to the wound, sucking ravenously. She twisted in his iron grasp, her high cry collapsing into a broken whine. To her surprise he lowered and set her down momentarily, reaching behind her to slash her makeshift bonds, his mouth never leaving her throat, completely absorbed by his blood-lust and its source.

Demiurge then hoisted her back up, and crushed her into the wall with his own body, his searing flesh slippery against her own. Her heart skipped a beat as she felt his own pounding faintly within his chest. She panted with anxiety, her body slipping downward. She very cautiously folded her legs around his narrow waist, fearful of triggering his wrath again, but just as afraid of falling and hitting her head a second time. Her arms slowly, timidly wrapped themselves around his shoulders for support, and he paid no mind to the physical contact as he continued to voraciously feed on her blood; all of his focus zeroed in on her neck.

Her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of his lips and tongue on her flesh as it raised the hair on her nape and sent electricity through her veins. Lillith hoped like Hell he wouldn't snap out of his bloodthirsty trance and realize she was touching him. She slowly rested her head on his shoulder, her cheek brushing against the cool metal of his many steel earrings, savoring the delicious heat and the heady scent of the Arch Devil's skin.

She had never been this intimately close to him before; his clothes had always served as a shield, a distance he kept between them. But now she could feel all of him, his hard muscles, every inch of his skin, his racing heartbeat.

All of that evil and hate and power wrapped up in such a beautiful package.

Tentatively testing the depth of his daze, she slowly ran her hands up and over his toned back and shoulders.

'He's built like a fucking god...how easily he could break me.' She thought as the fact of how utterly weak she was compared to him was reinforced by the feel of hard muscle under her palms.

Careful to avoid where his wings would unfurl as she knew she was on perilously thin ice, she admired the taut sinew beneath her fingers, and while he did tense under her touch, he did not stop and remained preoccupied, drinking greedily from her veins. She leaned her head to the side, granting him greater access and the Arch Devil's name escaped her lips on a moan.

Then she realized it was happening again.

It was like she had been fighting tooth and nail with him; she was utterly terrified of the demon and it was as though he held a syringe loaded with sunshine, and she knew how bad it was for her. She KNEW. And she cringed and whined and kicked out uselessly but she just wasn't big or strong enough to fight him off when he inevitably overpowered her, holding her down and shoving the needle into her arm and pushing the plunger, shooting her up.

But oh, how fucking good it felt. Her veins were flooded with warmth and unfathomable euphoria and now she was his drooling, helpless little plaything. He became her unholy priest; putting the fear of God into her but also remaining her only line to the sweet salvation he gave her taste after taste of.

But it was never enough. She always needed more.

'Why can't I fight this? How can I be so terrified one minute and then...then like THIS the next?'

And there it was. That thread of need, of raw WANT that peeled down her spine, a lose string that he tugs with every swipe of tongue and scrape of his fangs, unraveling her sanity, her sense of self-preservation, bit by bit.

'I need him. I hate him. But only HE can give me this.'

Her Master's hands lowered beneath her to cradle her bottom, the tips of his claws pricking into the plump flesh, and he lifted her up to align with his organ. Demiurge lowered her onto the crown of his erection, sinking just the thick, silken head into her heat. He inhaled sharply through his nose, his mouth maintaining its seal on the wound and Lillith squirmed in delight, whimpering. She could feel his pulse through his member, and his heart hammering against her breast. His strong hands stayed firm under her rear, keeping her suspended, and she tried to undulate against him, desperate to get more of his cock inside her.

"Master...please..." She whined.

Demiurge maintained his hold, and would not permit her to move. His hands squeezed, claws sinking into her ass threateningly, ensuring she had very little leeway for struggle.

"Please...I-I need..." Her plea trailed off. She was unable to complete the thought, consumed by the crave for friction, and she felt the shape of his grin grow against her neck.

'He's not that far gone if he is coherent enough to be enjoying tormenting me...bastard.'

She whimpered again, her fingers clinging to his back tighter, imploring him for more. He ignored her and continued to feast on her blood, a dark purple bruise blooming beneath his lips. She tried to grind on him, eager to coax him into any movement, and he still refused.

He had taken control again, and was punishing her for touching him outside of his limits.

Lillith was beyond frustrated by his motionless torture.

'No. You don't get to punish me for touching you when you can do whatever you want to me. It's not fair.'

Desperate for any reaction from him, his servant recklessly ran her tongue over the long, sharp curve of his ear. And while he ground his teeth, a stifled moan still managed to escape from his lungs as his organ pulsed in response. She had discovered yet another major sensitivity.

He pulled her hips downward, violently impaling her, tearing a broken cry from her mouth. He snarled, removing his mouth from her neck and one hand from her rear to slam his fist into the tile frighteningly close to her head in a dire warning; his clenched hand went through it like paper and its fractured pieces fell away from the wall with a ceramic clatter to the floor, piece by piece.

Lillith jumped at the sudden impact, realizing with horror that if he had struck her, it would have been instantly fatal. She had pushed him too far.

His enraged gaze burned into hers, his ivory fangs bared threateningly as he harshly grabbed her by the throat.

"I _fucking HATE _ you..." He hissed, the frost in his words colder than anything she had ever heard pass his lips. There was less animosity in his voice when he tormented and murdered the prisoner than in those four words he just spat at her.

He slowly drug his tongue up the side of her face in a hot lick, envenoming her; potent fear and excitement swirled in her veins.

'Good, I fucking hate you too, asshole.' But she would never have the gall to utter those words. He'd rip her guts out.

His hand twitched and flexed against her throat as though he was fighting the urge to crush her windpipe.

Had she not been granted to him by Lord Ainz himself, he would not have hesitated in the least to kill her then and there.

"You INSUBORDINATE bitch..." The demon cursed her maliciously, thrusting upward, and began fucking her cruelly with hard, sharp strokes.

'Fuck you too, and your fat cock...please.'

His servant groaned, relief washing over her as she was pulled down into a deep void of sensations, taking in all that he gave her.

'Fucking finally...'

"Demiurge..." She moaned for him. She surrendered to the Arch Devil as he begrudgingly gave her what she needed, but with just as much cruelty as urgency in his movements. He was furious, but still needed this as much as her, though he would never admit it. He hadn't come in two weeks; a lifetime for an Incubus.

The demon plunged deeply, and released her throat to return his other hand beneath her for greater control. He hoisted her up and down along his throbbing length, striking her cervix with each movement.

She opened her eyes, meeting his. That vulnerability in them was long gone. All she saw now was anger. Hate. A black fire flaring in his eyes.

Good. Because she was beginning to hate him too. She loathed feeling like she needed him, the fix he gave her, and all the while he treated her like an animal. A slave. Like she was nothing.

She missed the stranger from her dream. He made her feel like she was more than that. Worth something.

He had planted a little seed of defiance in her, and it was rapidly beginning to take root.

And here was this asshole, trying to rip it out.

Lillith couldn't help it; she glared at him, with all the primal rage she felt condensing in her gaze...

Demiurge saw this, and the shock that came over his face was priceless. Utterly priceless. He blinked, as though he didn't believe what he was seeing.

And then he laughed. That fucker laughed at her fury.

"Just when I think...I have you suitably trained for my liking... you see fit to defy me...at every turn." He growled in between arduous breaths as he fucked her viciously against the wall, hot water cascading over their heaving joined form.

To the Devil's surprise, his servant growled back, and he could read the anger etching her face.

It was Adorable. Like a wolf pup with its first snarl, its velvety little muzzle wrinkled and milk teeth bared.

He leered at her, his lips twitching, undecided as to whether they wanted to pull back in a wolfish snarl of his own or an amused fanged grin.

Was that really a challenge from his pet?

His lips then chose to curl at the corners in an arrogant smirk. He then leaned forward, slowly, bringing his face frighteningly close to hers.

Exactly like he did when he was torturing the prisoner and had whispered: "I promise you, this will not be a torture session that ends unless I am given what I want." And then he twisted the talon he had impaled within his shoulder.

Lillith straightened her face, her breath stuttering as a considerable portion of her rage was replaced by fear.

"Lose the attitude. Or I'll stomp out that fire in your eyes." He whispered in her ear, his gentle tone belying the savage nature of his warning.

'Shit, don't be stupid. You won't live if you aren't careful. He's still stronger than you.'

She swallowed thickly. "Sorry, Master."

It took all of her strength to prevent a sarcastic edge from lacing her words.

Demiurge sneered at her, and picked up his pace. How dare she challenge his power. His inferiors did not normally fight back. It pissed him off, and dare he say, made him a tad bit uneasy at this new development. Was she seriously losing her fear of him again?

Was it anger or stupidity he was witnessing today?

The demon would regain control soon enough though. She couldn't come without him, and he sure as Hell wouldn't let her get herself off, and knew he effectively drove that lesson home.

He held the reins here.

"I'd better hear you scream for me." He rasped, and fucked into her.

In the storm of their wrath and rapture she could only cry out his name and cling to him tightly, helplessly as he crashed into her with animalistic aggression. The demon was unyielding, unrelenting. A white hot coil of heat began to unfurl in Lillith's loins, his every stroke taking her higher into the maelstrom.

His servant's head fell forward onto his shoulder, her nails digging weakly into his back. Every motion and gesture Demiurge made caused her body to fall back onto his as he curled his hips into her. Everything he did was designed to trap her in his inescapable and unbreakable spell.

As much as he hated her right now, she was still his plaything, his possession. He would never let her go.

The Arch Devil grabbed her face to make her look at him, his claws pricking her and his startlingly mesmerizing eyes burning into hers.

"I WILL break you yet..." He spat through clenched teeth, his voice glacial.

'No. You won't.'

And with those words, he began savagely ramming into her with full force. Her jaw dropped as she tried to scrape a desperate breath into her lungs, the sheer power and sharpness of his thrusts making her face go numb.

Lillith writhed in his grasp, the burning coil erupting into flames, swallowing her whole. She arched against and screamed her Master's name, her walls collapsing around him, squeezing tightly around his shaft. He groaned roughly, and suddenly pulled her off of his organ, setting her down, and immediately her legs buckled out from under her, dropping to her hands and knees.

"Get up, I'm not done with you yet." The demon impatiently ordered. "Hands against the wall."

Lillith obeyed, shakily standing on boneless legs and braced her hands against the slick tile, and one of his hands clamped over her mouth. She gasped against it and she breathed raggedly through her nose, trying hard not to panic and risk pissing him off more.

He slid between her legs, the thick, blunt head of his cock spreading her open as he pushed into her from behind, his other hand coming to rest on her hip, his claws digging in to keep her slippery body in place.

She whimpered into his hand as he sunk in deeper, deeper, until he reached the end of her channel.

She clenched around him as he withdrew only to slam back in hatefully hard. Lillith shrieked against his hand from the force of the plunge, and his lips peeled back into a diabolical grin. He loved to hear her muffled cries, the sense of excessive control it gave him.

"I'm beginning to think you enjoy pissing me off because you're a glutton for punishment." He spat.

Lillith could only let out a stifled whine.

"Is that it? You can't get enough of my cock? Pet likes when I fuck her hard?" The Arch Devil sneered with dark malice.

That hurt a bit, but she supposed she needed to get used to the fact that she was a slave, property. A pet at best.

At least it was better than what she was called at the brothel. "Whore," "Slut", or "Harlot."

"Hmm? I can't fucking hear you." He growled, and he ruthlessly sank his claws further into her hip, the needle like points piercing her flesh.

Lillith squealed into his palm and nodded vigorously, understanding that he was going to seriously wound her if she didn't respond.

"Good girl." Satisfied he regained what was lost, he released her face and sunk his fingers into her hair instead.

Demiurge then bit into her shoulder, gripping her with his fangs in a restraint bite like a lion as he mercilessly rammed into her, their dewy flesh making wet slaps, keeping his claws dug into her hip hard and his other hand tightly wound in her damp locks so she wouldn't slip away.

His low growls and groans and her short, quick pants and strangled cries echoed through the shower, his grasp bruising and painful but his cock probing so punishingly deep exquisite torture.

And Lillith can't help but wonder if he is right. If the reason she does this is because she does like it when he fucks her hard and she can't get enough.

Maybe she was a glutton for punishment.

She really didn't want him to be right or have that satisfaction, but that arrogant bastard was already about to make her climax again, rendering any argument she feebly grasped at invalid.

Her walls clamped and spasmed around his shaft with an fierce, agonizing ache, milking his member with tight, violent contractions that tore a vicious snarl from his throat as she screamed in furious ecstasy.

She felt herself fall into oblivion as he growled against her, his fist in her hair tightening until she winced. Demiurge thrust once more and sucked in a sharp breath and his head fell back, his jaw dropping in a silent cry before an obscene moan left his lips. His organ heaved, exploding, spurting six powerful blasts of hot semen. He held her firmly in place as he then pumped his hips again, trying to prolong his release and by the time he had emptied himself Lillith was on the edge of collapsing to the floor. The Arch Devil pulled out and leaned, sagging back against the wall, spent, his breathing ragged.

After catching his breath and regaining his sturdiness, he stepped out of the shower and took one of the towels she stashed in the cabinet out, wrapping it around his waist, and callously flung another at her.

"Clean yourself up and get dressed. You still have a task to complete." He said.

Lillith looked at him quizzically, but he offered no explanation and walked out of the bathroom. When he was out of sight, she rolled her eyes.

Dick.

She thought that was the task, but whatever.

She straightened her posture on shaking legs, and stumbled towards the still running shower head, and rinsed herself off.

With her back turned Demiurge stormed back into the bathroom, and plunged something sharp into her neck. She gasped, completely shocked and caught off guard, but she couldn't move.

It started to burn with a familiar warming sensation and the terrifying reality hit her that he had just injected her with a drug, one of the same or similar class as to what they were given at the brothel.

'How ironic.'

She felt her eyes roll back, reacquainting herself with the long-missed euphoria. She felt her limbs weaken and then go limp beneath her, and Demiurge caught her as she dropped and effortlessly tossed her over her shoulder. Her tongue felt fat and numb in her mouth, or she would have asked why he felt he needed to drug her, or at least thanked her Master for the generous dose. He tossed her on the bed like a sack of potatoes as he toweled off is hair and dressed himself, and as she faded in and out of consciousness, she felt his gloved fingers wrap something around her neck. There was a brief moment where she thought he may be trying to strangle her, but when his hands left her she realized he had actually placed a thick collar on her. He leaned down over her prone body, and cupped her chin with his claws, making her look at him.

"We're returning to the ranch. I need-"

Her eyes began to flutter closed, his voice fading and everything dimmed in a gray velvet haze. She briefly twitched awake to catch:

"and you will be retrained." The last thing she saw before nodding off was his diabolical grin.