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Lillith felt herself sinking, deeper and deeper in an cold, inky black sea, and as much as she kicked and swam, the dim light from above which told her up from down in the swirling murkiness didn't seem to be getting any closer. It was as though she were floating in place, her golden tresses frolicking all around her like slowly undulating tongues of yellow flame.

"Am I...dead?"

She touched her arms, chest and face for confirmation, and she felt solid. Her chest rose and fell with respiration. But everything was so dark, and it was freezing. Her only source of light was an opaque disk of brilliance from above, and reminded her of the full moon which had illuminated the ranch when she guided her Master to the shed to show him what she had finished, and he had told her he was pleased with her work. Speaking of assholes in red suits...

"Did he kill me?"

"No. He just gave you a little too much." A comforting voice assured her. "You'll come out of momentarily."

It was him.

'Shit, he almost overdosed me. My tolerance is low since I haven't had any since I was in the brothel.'

"It's about to become much more difficult, little one. You have to hang on. If you give up now, it's all over."

"What do you mean?" Lillith asked.

"He means to break you. He isn't used to prey fighting back or withstanding all that he puts them through. He's going to test your limits to the breaking point. But if you stand strong, you will make it."

"Please...let me see you." She pleaded.

But there was no response.

Lillith was drifting in and out of consciousness. She began to tremble, no shiver, as it seemed to get chillier. Oddly enough, each time she quivered, it floated her closer and closer to the breaking the surface.

She lazily stirred, still moderately high and heavy from the drug's lingering effects. Wherever she was, it was cold, and behind her eyes she felt the faint pounding a mild headache. As she pushed herself up from the chilly floor, her head felt heavy and doughy.

'Asshole...could have easily just asked me to do whatever...whatever...'

What did he say they were going to do?

She couldn't remember...her memory was fractured and foggy; But what Lillith did remember her failure to restock the towels, Demiurge's heated, wet body grinding against hers and then being unexpectedly stabbed the neck with a syringe.

Lillith tried to lick her lips, and her tongue was sticking to the roof of her mouth. Swallowing was difficult, uncomfortable.

'I'm so thirsty. I need water.'

She rubbed her eyes and sat up, feeling a heavy weight pulling around her neck. She looked down not only to see that she was completely nude, hence why she was freezing, but there was also a thick, black leather collar clasped on her neck, and a long, heavy chain attached to the O ring affixed to the front of it.

'What the Hell?'

She reached back to try to feel for a strap or clasp to unfasten and remove it, only for her fingers to find it was somehow impossibly seamless.

'Fucking magic.'

She tugged on the chain, and as she feared it was unbreakable and perfectly secure. Her eyes followed the length of it, which was at least twenty five feet, and it ended on a soldered O ring as well, which was bolted into the wall with masonry screws on a metal plate.

'Seriously?'

Surveying her surroundings with bleary eyes, she realized she was in a windowless, concrete room, the floor frigid and carpetless. There was a large dog bowl of water on the ground, and no food in sight.

A single chair with a small round table was oddly placed in the center of the room. The walls were completely bare, and there was also only one entrance, barricaded by a large steel door.

One way in, one way out.

'FUCK.'

It dawned on her that she was no longer a servant; she had been stripped of both her clothes and dignity, trapped in a room where no one could hear her scream, and collared and chained like an animal to prevent escape.

Analysis of her situation yielded terrifyingly grim results: Lillith was now a prisoner.

Her brain spiralled was overloaded by a thousand horrific possible scenarios as her heart began to pound uncontrollably. Was Demiurge going to torture and murder her like he did the prisoner? Was he going to beat her bloody for her insolence? Was he going to strip the meat off her bones and eat her piece by piece? She wished whatever the Hell he had in store, he would drug her again so she wouldn't be conscious for it.

But she knew better; the demon would never in a thousand years be so kind. If he was going to torture her, he would want to watch the fear glimmer in her eyes, hear her plead for even a shred of mercy that there was no hope of him ever giving.

Is that why he drugged her and locked her away from Sebas's watchful eye? So he could torment her however he wished and no one could hear her scream? Anxiety crept over her scalp and trickled down her spine, shortening her breath.

'I have to get the Hell out of here, before he comes back!'

Her eyes frantically scanned the room for some way to saw the collar off, or another means of escape, when the door opened.

Her red-clad Master stalked in, his hands behind his back.

"Good, you're awake." He said emotionlessly.

Lillith covered her breasts with her arms, partially because she was freezing her ass off, and partially out of her burgeoning insecurity of the situation. She tried to stand, her legs still unsteady. A deafeningly loud crack like thunder startled her, echoing like a storm in the distance through the empty room and she cringed her hands flying protectively to the top of her head, shaking.

She had heard that sound before, and it was always followed by utter agony.

When Lillith hesitantly returned her gaze to him, Demiurge revealed that he clutched a twelve-foot bullwhip in his hand, and a human femur in the other. He menacingly narrowed his eyes at her, his lip curling in an enraged snarl.

While he himself was intimidating as Hell when he was angry like this, the sight of that whip is what sent raw terror spilling through her veins.

"Sit. Down." He growled through clenched fangs, his frame tense with restrained rage.

Lillith could visibly see how coiled his muscles were beneath the form-fitting material of his tailored suit, like a lion ready to spring. The Arch Devil made it all too clear that if she set him off, all of his hate and fury would be channeled through that whip and she did not doubt for a second that he would strike her with enough force to rip her in half.

'Oh, shit.' She obediently dropped to her knees, and began to tremble.

Lillith had been struck with a whip in her past, when she had refused to serve a client who wanted to defecate on her. And it was _beyond_excruciating; it was a agony like no other-like being sliced open with a red-hot blade. Salt was rubbed into her raw wounds and she was forced to live with it for two days before she was given a healing potion and put back to work.

So needless to say, she had a healthy respect for the brutal pain they could inflict, and if she could help it she would very much like to avoid receiving a red-hot welt.

And in Demiurge's hands, a bull whip was nothing short of a deadly weapon.

Lillith was as vulnerable as a newborn in her condition, and had no means in which to defend herself. She grudgingly admitted she would never be able to fight him off anyway, even if she wasn't chained and still half doped up.

"Why did-" She started to ask why he had drugged her, when he snapped the whip again.

"Do NOT speak." He hissed maliciously, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Lillith instantly fell silent.

"Good girl." It sounded like praise, but coming from him in his state of rage it was still laced with an air of condescension.

Afraid to speak out of turn, she slowly brought her hands upward to gently touch the chain and collar, cautious with her movements so as not give him the impression she was trying to remove it. She looked at him inquisitively.

"You are being retrained. You have been insubordinate, have failed to kneel to me lately, and have touched your master, a Guardian of Nazarick, without permission on several occasions. All offenses of which are punishable by death. Need I say more?" He answered and gravely stalked towards her, his tail swaying behind him as he moved with feline grace.

Lillith then had a flashback to the previous week, as well as to what transpired the day before she woke here, and realized everything he said was true. It had been weeks since she had knelt to him; after witnessing the torture and murder of the prisoner she had been so out of it, both her mind and body stretched exhaustively thin. She was running on fumes with lack of sleep or food and it made her forgetful, but that really wasn't her fault.

However, she _was_indeed guilty of crossing the line when she dared to touch his bare flesh without expressed permission or commanded to do so when he had been restrained, whether it was his abdomen or his wings. And with her judgement as impaired as it had been these past two weeks, she definitely took touching him when she wasn't supposed to _way too far_by doing so twice mere minutes apart in the shower, especially after he made it abundantly clear how much it pissed him off the first time.

Demiurge wasn't really wrong in losing his shit over it.

'But still, fuck him.'

Although he did seem to enjoy it in the moment, he also made it seem like a cardinal sin. But now she knew why. It wasn't about whether he found it pleasurable or not. It was because it threatened his extent of control.

"But, instead of killing you, I think putting a little extra effort into your training will yield more pleasing results. So, if you wish to be released, over the next 72 hours you will obey my every command, whether you find it to be unsavory or humiliating. This is your assigned task; ABSOLUTE OBEDIENCE AND COMPLIANCE. Completing it to my satisfaction is your only means of freedom. But I'm sure you have already gathered that there is no escaping this room until you give me what I want." He looked down on her, lowering his face to hers menacingly and she knew he was daring her to give him a reason to use the whip.

She recalled a similar malicious threat he uttered to the prisoner.

"I promise you, this will not be a torture session that ends unless I am given what I want."

She slowly nodded in response, understanding and acknowledging that she fucked up, and that he had every intention of lashing the Hell out of her if she dared to offend him again.

She had better obey. Or face grim consequences.

"Very good. Now, you have supplied water," He pointed to the dog bowl on the ground. "...and food will be earned by obedience and acceptable behavior. Do you understand?"

Still unsure if she were allowed to speak, or what he meant by 'obedience', she hesitated. He adjusted is spectacles impatiently, his tail flicking in agitation, and she took that as her permission.

"...Yes, Master." Her voice scraped out, scratchy against the back of her throat. She really needed some water.

"Excellent. Now that you do, you are _not_to talk unless I have permitted you to do so. This is to ensure that you are listening to my commands, and will let us come to a greater understanding of one another as you will read my body language and expressions to determine if your behavior or actions are acceptable, as you seem to have an issue with that." Demiurge said sternly, and with that he stripped away her right to speak.

Lillith couldn't believe it. She knew she had pushed him too far, but to deny her the right to voice herself seemed especially cruel.

Despite how it upset her, she nodded, acknowledging that she understood; she did not dare argue with her Master when he wielded such a weapon in his hand, and oddly enough in his other he clutched a human thigh bone, and she deeply hoped it was not going to be used as a clubbing weapon.

The Arch Devil noticed how she zeroed in on it, and he held it up, and Lillith flinched instinctively as if he were going to strike her with it.

"It is not intended to be a weapon, it is a tool for your training." Demiurge elaborated.

As if that would put her mind at ease.

Hardly.

A flare of anxiety bloomed in her chest.

'How the Hell is that a training tool? Shit, do I even want to know?'

The demon then took about ten paces backwards from her.

"So, we will start with some basic commands as a warm-up. Come."

Lillith squinted her eyes at him incredulously.

'Oh, Hell no.'

Did he seriously just bark an order at her like she were a dog? Being treated as a slave she could handle, but an animal...? She couldn't help but to be extremely offended by him treating her as even less than human whore.

'Fuck this asshole.' She was done being a victim and ready to fight. He would have killed her already if that was his true intention, right?

The Arch Devil had a million opportunities to seriously fuck her up, and the worst damage he caused to her person was indeed bloody, but not immediately life threatening. And he even gave her a healing potion for it.

This was all for show. An attempt to reestablish his Dominance.

Demiurge noticed the defiant spark in her eyes and her hesitation to comply. His lip curled and he hardened his gaze at her. He then threw back his arm and cracked the whip loudly over her head, and she cringed again.

"I will only give the command once. And you have three seconds to obey, or the end of this whip will find your flesh." The demon rasped, a scowl harshly etching his features. "Do not test my patience, or you will regret it."

Black flame rippled from the ground around him, and began to flicker around his heels.

'Fuck.' That wasn't a good sign.

Every time he snapped that whip, her confidence that this was merely for theatrics crumbled.

Lillith hurriedly rose from the ground to come to him, and he swung the whip again, and this time she felt the wind of force it created as it sliced through the air next to her face, and it deafeningly cracked next to her head. She dropped to the ground onto her belly and whimpered in terror, her right ear ringing.

'Ok...He is NOT bluffing.'

"On. Your. Knees...CRAWL." Demiurge reprimanded her harshly, his fangs bared in a wolfish snarl.

His servant raised up off of her stomach, and righted herself on her hands and knees, taking a few uncoordinated steps forward, her limbs still tremulous and unsteady from the after-effects of the drug he injected her with.

'This is so humiliating.'

Lillith crawled towards her master, one tentative hand in front of the other; slowly, warily, her eyes fixated on his whip. She stopped about three steps away from him. The dark fire wreathing his personal space died out.

"Good. Now, sit." The demon said, pointing to the ground with the bone before him for emphasis.

Lillith tucked her calves under her, resting her shaking hands on her knees.

"Good girl. Now, fetch." Demiurge tossed the femur across the room, and it landed about twenty two feet away with a ivory clatter.

'Shit.' This would not be a pleasant walk.

The floor was hard, rough and cold, and made her knees sore. She turned away from her master and crawled the painstakingly far distance, the unwieldy chain on her neck dragging loudly across the ground with a clinking metallic racket, weighing and slowing her down. Lillith seethed with anger and humiliation beneath the surface. He actually had her _crawling on the floor,_chained and naked, and was forcing her to fetch a dismembered human leg bone like a fucking animal. Her master was far more twisted and cruel than she could have imagined.

And she thought she had hated him before.

She was gasping, tired and achy by the time she got to it. The drug he pumped into her veins caused respiratory suppression, making physical tasks far more taxing on her already weakened body, and gave her an critical case of cotton mouth. She was so thirsty, and scolded herself for not getting a drink from that dog bowl when she had a chance.

Reaching the designated object, Lillith started to pick it up with her hand, and a wicked crack ripped through the air. She jolted.

"You are to use your teeth, not your hands." The demon specified, and narrowed his icy gaze at her.

She looked down at the femur, then back at her master in utter disbelief.

'Are you fucking kidding me?!' She did NOT want to put human remains in her mouth.

"One...two..." He counted down, more than a little irritated that she was daring to delay in obeying his command. His arm drew back, his frame calibrating for a severe strike and he clutched the whip tighter, preparing to swing with devastating force.

'Fuck-me-shitfuckshit OKFINE!'

Lillith caved, knowing he would not hesitate to use the weapon on her; surrendering to the unsavory order, she bent down, gingerly taking it between her jaws like an animal.

She servant ambled quickly across the room this time, fear-laced adrenaline aiding her speed, and she tried to fold her tongue to avoid touching the bone. To her displeasure, for a brief moment it did anyway and it felt cool and smooth, almost like ceramic, as though it had been sanded down and polished for this very purpose.

'Ew.'

She returned to him and he extended his hand out, and she obediently placed the bone in it like an obedient retriever, and he set it down next to his shoe.

"Good girl." He said, this time with sincerity in his voice. Then he smiled, his lips curling gracefully at the corners and damn it all, it still managed to send a fluttering like butterfly wings through her stomach.

Fuck, she hated that he could somehow still affect her in such a way, especially in her current situation. Still, she fought to prevent anything but complicity to show on her face.

He must have detected a rogue flicker of resentment, because he then bent at the waist, and reached out to her face and she winced, afraid he might hit her.

To her utter shock, he lightly stroked her cheek and hair with the back of his glove. Her lips parted in a silent gasp; It was the softest, most affectionate touch he had ever used on her, and she was fucking floored by how his nature had flipped on a dime.

He was petting her!

She was frozen, still wary and tense beneath the feather-light contact which was...unnatural for him. The him that she had come to know.

"I am pleased with your compliance so far." Demiurge said encouragingly.

And with a quivering exhale, she gradually allowed her muscles to relax, the tension slowly seeping out of them. She then leaned into the softness of his gloves as he stroked her jaw, knowing fully well he may never be so gentle with her again.

Was it wrong that a small part of her wanted to enjoy it while it lasted?

'You hate him remember? And he isn't being nice. He's doing this for some ulterior motive and you know it.'

Lillith racked her brain. Why is he being so...gentle? He was ready to have her hide just two minutes ago.

She then realized he was only doing this because he was not treating her as a human right now, he was treating her as an animal, and therefore he did not view this intimacy or affection; he must see this merely as a form of positive reinforcement for training his pet, and nothing more.

But still, in the moment, it felt nice.

Demiurge ended the fleeting moment of tenderness when he patted the top of her head.

"I'll let Azazel in and so you can have some company. He will also serve as an example of obedience you can use as guidance as to what I expect."

Yes, of course, because she needed an actual dog to show her how be a good pet.

'Oh, fuck you.' Lillith mentally huffed. But some warmth and a friendly face would be appreciated.

"I have matters to attend to, but will be back in a few hours." Demiurge informed her, heading back to the door and opening it.

'You're leaving me chained in here? For HOURS?!'

Azazel trotted in, moving gracefully across the room and was just as beautiful and elegant as ever. He headed straight for her and and he placidly licked and nuzzled her cheek in recognition. His fierce but friendly face was just as sharp and intelligent as when she had last seen him. Upon closer inspection, he had grown a little and filled out more. His jet black and deep burgundy coat was glossy with health.

"Sitzen." Demiurge pointed to the space on the floor beside her, and Azazel sat next to his servant.

What language was that? Lillith had never heard it before. She opened her mouth to ask, but then promptly shut it as she remembered the new rule.

_"Bleiben."_Demiurge left the room without saying another word to his servant, and Azazel remained. Lillith glared at the doorway and almost hoped he could feel her rage.

Lillith couldn't believe this. Not only was he treating her like a dog, but what the Hell was he expecting her to do that she might find...unsavory or humiliating?

'Shit, do I really want to ask that question?'

She looked at Azazel, and he just sat quietly; poised like an ancient Egyptian statue of a Pharaoh hound and patiently waiting, as though he was expecting his master to return shortly.

"You wouldn't happen to want to show me a way the fuck out of here right now, would you?" She asked sarcastically. He cocked his head, his sharp ears turning to catch the sounds, but her words not understood in the least.

Lillith sighed in exasperation.

"...Didn't think so."

'I'm not going to make it...'

---

Lillith reminded Demiurge very much of Azazel when he was a pup, before he had been properly trained. While she had been terrified of him in the beginning, as they grew more accustomed to and more comfortable in one another's presence, she was gradually losing her fearful respect of him, just as the Doberman did. She was growing defiant, bolder, and constantly pushing his limits to see what he would let her get away with.

Despite reprimanding her with pain and intense sexual aggression, she still saw fit to test him time and time again.

She had brazenly dared to touch him, a Guardian of Nazarick, her Dominant, without expressed permission. It was an offense punishable by death. If the other Guardians (other than Sebas) knew she had laid a hand on him she would have been executed on the spot. He had allowed her to get away with the unpermitted physical contact when she inadvertently discovered his hypersensitive wings, as infuriating as it was to have such a vulnerability revealed, the pleasure it brought him was excruciatingly rapturous so he was unable to bring himself to stop her. When she had found him chained in the dungeon, her fearlessness had played flawlessly into his plan of showing Sebas that while he did aggressively take what he wanted from her, he did not actually rape her during their encounters. It worked so well the Butler backed off completely.

Because it worked so well to his advantage, he did allow the grave offense go unaddressed for the most part, but she not escape his wrath completely unscathed. A healing potion was necessary to prevent her from losing too much blood.

He purposefully left the door open to his crafting room when he was gathering intelligence from the prisoner, and thought if she witnessed his cruelty towards lesser beings, humans especially (to an extent, what she saw was actually rather tame compared to what he typically does), she would fall in line, or at last have a newfound fear of him. The trauma of seeing him torture and dispose of the prisoner did seem to have a effect on her, and either distraction or lack of sleep had made her forget to kneel to him and restock his bath towels. And yet she still touched him in certain places without permission. Truthfully, in the moment it was pleasurable, but it still was not permitted and a breach of his ultimate control. As a commander, one whose main function is to give orders (only under lord Ainz did he take them and relinquish power over of his subordinates), it was blasphemy to attempt to take it from him or cross any of his lines.

What was worse, she no longer knelt to him, the Guardian of the 7th Floor. The only ones of high enough prestige to not bow before the Commander of Defenses, a level 100 Arch Devil, were other fellow Guardians. It was a given rule that lowly humans and other inferiors should always prostrate themselves before a Guardian of Nazarick. Even Tuare, despite having Sebas's and Lord Ainz's protection, would still lower her head in respect to the demon. For his own servant to fail to abject herself to him was extreme insubordination of the highest caliber.

The entire reason he had deemed her worthy to be his personal servant was because she had fallen to her knees at the mere sight of him when they had first crossed paths. That level of fear and respect was what he saw as ideal in a servant, and what made him want to lay claim to her in the first place (in addition to spiting the Butler).

While he could just as easily kill her for her insolence and purchase a new slave, she was a gift from his Ruler; and to throw her away would be terribly disrespectful when Lord Ainz was so kind as to give her to him. Not to mention a greater amount of work would go into training a new one then it would retraining Lillith.

And he seriously doubted Lord Ainz would be too keen on allowing yet another human into the great Tomb. Demiurge found the most rewarding things in life usually did require a little extra effort, which he was willing to put towards in perfecting his slave. Azazel became his finest guard dog after putting him through Schutzhund training, which he rapidly excelled in and gained a much greater sense of discipline afterwards. He was confident that with a firm hand to guide her, just as Azazel needed, Lillith would exceed his expectations.

---

Eight hours passed.

EIGHT. FUCKING. HOURS.

Azazel laid across the room, looking just as bored as she was with his head resting in between his large paws.

Lillith was on her back, resting with her arms under her head as a cushion. At this point, she stopped caring and came to terms with the fact that she was naked, and would most likely stay this way for the duration of Demiurge's...experiment. There was nothing whatsoever in this room she could cover herself with, and she knew this was her master's intentional cruelty.

But it wasn't as cold anymore, which was a small relief. She no longer had to huddle up with Azazel to keep from shaking. Perhaps it was now mid-day or early evening?

She had tried on several occasions to take a nap just to pass the time, but could never find an even remotely comfortable position. Only once did she begin to doze out of sheer boredom, but then she was awoken by her stomach rumbling.

Lillith was growing more restless and frustrated, as she was getting hungrier as the excruciatingly stretching hours bled into one another. She guessed it had been at least eighteen to twenty four hours since she had last eaten. She honestly wasn't sure how long she had been here after being sedated by the drug. Morphine and opiates of similar class can easily knock a person out for several hours. And Demiurge had carelessly given her a larger dose than she was accustomed to, so there was no way of knowing how long she had been out.

She decided she needed to put something in her stomach, even if it was just the rest of the water. As soon as Demiurge had left the room, she had run over to the bowl and scooped up handfuls of water out to drink until her throat was soothed. The prisoner moved over to the water bowl, loudly dragging the heavy chains with her. Azazel's head popped up at the metallic racket.

She scooped up handful after handful, and once she could scoop no more out without it running through her fingers before bringing it to her lips, she then tried to pick up the bowl to drink the rest from it, but it was somehow sealed to the floor.

"You have _got_to be kidding me." She groaned, realizing it had too slick of curved edges for secure purchase, and therefore there was no way she could pry it off the ground without the risk of spilling everything.

Seeing as how she had no other option, she leaned down on all fours, her nipples brushing the rough surface of the floor and she lapped up the remaining water like a dog.

'That asshole ... I bet he's somehow watching right now and having a good laugh.'

Azazel padded over from across the room, his nails clicking on the floor and then came around to the other side of the bowl and took a drink as well.

'Shit.' She couldn't help but feel guilty for drinking most of it without considering the dog might want some too, so she resigned to letting him polish it off.

She could only hope her Master would give them more when he got back.

Speaking of which, shouldn't Demiurge have come back by now? Where could he have gone or be doing that was taking him so long?

'Why should I care where he is or what he is doing? He's being so cruel. I know I pissed him off, but doesn't this punishment seem like a bit much?'

Was this what it was like being a dog? Waiting for hours on end and hoping for the master you worship, no matter how cruel he is, to return?

Lillith tried to lose herself in her thoughts to pass the time, but the pain in her knees and other joints kept snapping her out of it.

She wondered what she would be doing if there weren't four walls enclosing her, if she was back in Nazarick. She would probably be dusting or cooking, or talking with Tuare.

Now that she thought about it, Tuare was probably worried sick about her. The last time she saw her was when she admitted that she witnessed Demiurge torture and kill the prisoner, and yelled "I forgot something!" and fled from the kitchen.

Her friend must be convinced at this point that Demiurge imprisoned or possibly killed her for failing to finish her daily tasks.

Maybe she would tell Sebas and they would come looking for her. Someone had to see Demiurge leave with her unconscious body, right? He couldn't have just walked out the-

'Magic. FUCKING MAGIC. He's too smart to do something so foolish as to walk out the front door with your limp ass draped over his shoulder. He had to have used a portal.'

No one saw anything. The odds of this being cut short was astronomical to none.

Lillith groaned in despair.

'This is going to be a long 72 hours.'

---

_ ****While Lillith was still unconscious**** _

"I scent a female on you." Malphas purred in Demiurge's ear. "Smells good. Another new pet, I presume?"

Demiurge chuckled, and he traced the long curve of his predecessor's ear with his tongue, and lightly tugged on his golden earrings with his teeth. "Is that jealousy I hear in your voice, brother?"

It had been three months since he had visited his predecessor, or as they typically called one another, his brother. While they were not genetically related, their appearances would strongly suggest otherwise.

Malphas, the prototype for the 7th Floor Guardian looked very much like Demiurge, as he possessed impish, angular features and also an armor plated, spiked tail. His inky black mane fell a little further than shoulder length, and was slicked back in the same manner Demiurge tamed his. Both of his long, sharp ears were adorned with several golden rings and cuffs. He did not wear spectacles as his younger brother did, but he shared the same trait of crystalline eyes, and the finely cut facets reflected several different shades of blue; azure, indigo, cerulean, cobalt, and ultramarine. His eyes held the chilling color palette of Arctic glaciers beneath the midnight sky.

It was the feature Demiurge found most mesmerizing about him.

Malphas grasped his throat and slid into him, hot and hard, forcing a broken moan from his lungs. Demiurge's tail sought out and coiled around his own, like a silvery serpent wrapping around its mate.

And oh, how Demiurge loved being dominated by him. He was a marvelous example of an Alpha male. Malphas was broader than he, and towered over him at six foot six. After a heated argument which inevitably turned physical (thanks to the both of them having Alpha complexes), the older Devil proved he could easily kick his ass, which both aroused and_infuriated him. Malphas was raw, fiery power and immeasurable brute strength, and when they were first introduced he absolutely wanted a taste. But once he had it, it was never enough. He _always had to have more.

"I'm hardly the jealous type." Malphas murmured, his voice deep and dark like black velvet and roughly nipped his ear in return, making the smaller demon gasp and he threaded his fingers through his silken locks. "I know you can never get enough of me, or you wouldn't even be here right now."

"True. She has shown promise though, despite her defiant streak. I have her chained and locked in the basement at the ranch right now, but she's out cold. I fear I may have _slightly_miscalculated the dosage I gave her." Demiurge admitted with a somewhat abashed smirk. "I thought I had broken her, but it seems she is somehow losing her fear of me again. At this point I honestly don't know whether to be more irritated or impressed."

"You chained her in the basement? Shit, Demiurge, could you be more fucking cruel?"

Demiurge's reply was conniving narrowing of the eyes and a wide, fanged grin that was unnervingly psychotic.

Of course he could.

This would make his brother's 9th attempt at keeping a human pet. If the females he kept didn't try to escape or commit suicide, he usually wound up killing them. Often on purpose, though other times he had meant to 'reprimand' them for one offense or another and mortally wounded them with his superior strength.

Or so he said.

Malphas did not let it show too much, but it did bother him quite a bit.

Before Ulbert had given him a new function, he had been just as evil, merciless, and prone to lethal violence as his brother was now. But he was a prototype; a roughdraft before the Masterpiece. All that made him the Devil he was had been copied and forged into a new sharper, sleeker, and more streamlined design that was Demiurge.

As for him?

He was assigned to run the Bicorn stables in the Royal Capital. But for this job, he had to be stripped down and rebuilt. He needed to have more_humanity_ for this, a heart if he were to keep living creatures which needed care and understanding if they were to be trained and tended to on a daily basis.

He strove to please his creator, even after he felt cast aside, and excelled in breeding and isolating superior genes, and quickly became the country's most prestigious Bicorn breeder. Royalty, adventurers, warriors and racers from all over Yggdrasil have purchased his thoroughbred and perfectly trained beasts. His are the most sought after for speed and power, and not only has it has made him quite wealthy, it earned him the prestigious title of Lord of Steeds. Even Ainz Ooal Gown owns one of his beasts for Guardian battle purposes.

While he exceeded in his new role, he had complicated feelings as to how it all panned out. He couldn't help but feel that he had been gutted and rewired only to be thrown away after being demoted and then left behind by his creator. Although in the end, Ulbert had abandoned them both.

It was like insult to injury and then being shit on, and to top it off, he was thrown into a fucking trench to DIE.

But his brother did not abandon him. Demiurge was...was his evil, cruel, monster_of a brother who was him in so many ways yet different; he took his fucking job and his Floor but still never said no when he needed him. He was always there. He was his _home that he no longer had. Yet he was hundreds of miles away.

He was all that had inadvertently shattered him and also held him together.

Malphas loved him in a way that Demiurge could never love him back.

And it broke the heart he was forced to have.

But that was not to say Demiurge didn't care for him; he cared for Malphas more than he did anyone.

"Forget that I asked that question. But do try not to kill this one." Malphas sighed in exasperation. "They will never learn to please you if you slaughter them before they have a chance to even try."

The larger Arch Devil rolled his hips into his, as though trying to drive his point in, and Demiurge swore and drug his talons down his well-muscled back, leaving deep, bleeding grooves. Malphas arched and hissed at the sweet, stinging pain.

"When did you become so fucking moral?" Demiurge scoffed.

"You _know_when," Malphas spat acidly at him with an icy glare, then suddenly withdrew and flipped him onto his stomach. He yanked his steel-plated tail upwards, earning a feline-like hiss from the smaller demon before plunging back into him punishingly hard with a visceral groan.

"_Fuck,_Malphas!" Demiurge ground his teeth and whimpered at the painfully pleasurable stretch, raking his claws over the sheets, shredding them.

It had been nearly two years, but his predecessor was still understandably a bit sore about being replaced.

"...When Ulbert put me in charge of the Bicorn stables. My job now is to keep things alive, not kill them for fun. And as I told you before, positive reinforcement is the best teacher. Why not apply the same methods you used to train Azazel to her? Both humans and dogs respond well to positive reinforcement. Trust me, I've been training equines to obey commands long before you even considered keeping humans as pets. It would be wise to take my advice if you don't want to start over again."

As much as Demiurge didn't like being told what to do (at least when it came from anyone other than Lord Ainz), he knew Malphas was probably right. Not once had he given him poor advice.

"Fine." Demiurge huffed.

"_What_was that?" Malphas snarled and pulled his brother's hair ruthlessly, and Demiurge bared his fangs in pain. But worst of all, he had stopped moving.

If there was one thing Malphas didn't stand for, it was his brother's sharp tongue and attitude being directed at him. He was rather placid for a Devil (outside of the bedroom, anyways), thanks to Ulbert tweaking his programming when he had assigned him his new function, but when his temper flared Demiurge knew to stand clear of his path.

His brother's strength rivaled Albedo's, and he was positive he could kick her ass, too.

"Sorry_,_ brother." Demiurge grudgingly apologized. "Forgive me."

"That's more like it." Malphas purred, and then continued to leisurely thrust, teasing him.

As a demon who thrives on sexual aggression, Demiurge hated when Malphas took it slow with him. He liked to be fucked as hard and savagely as possible. Only Malphas could give it to him as he so needed. The elder demon would rapidly reduce him to a whining, pleading puddle IF he was well behaved.

"Please..." The younger Devil whined. The shallow thrusts Malphas was tormenting him with were almost excruciating. He desperately needed something crueler, more violent.

"Are you going to do as I say?" Malphas pressed.

"Yes, brother." Demiurge caved and would obey as long as he didn't stop, and gave him something more aggressive.

So yes, he decided he would give this positive reinforcement to his pet and see if it did yield the desired results. He had nothing to lose at this point. His cruel methods did not seem to be working as effectively on his servant anyway, and she was becoming desensitized. Truthfully, he had expected her to have died already.

But that didn't mean he would not still employ them at his leisure. He intended to train her with both.

"Good. I promise you will see improvement." The Dominant Devil planted gentle kisses along the side of his neck as Demiurge grumbled, and Malphas just chuckled, knowing how much any sort of affection irritated the absolute Hell out of him. "Oh, stop fussing. Now, do you want it hard or slow?"

He knew he didn't have to ask; he just wanted to hear him say it.

"Hard."