Planet of the Demons (Closed)

The war had ended all chance for humans as a race, and left rise to the demons. Long had the creatures of myth and lore waited in their underworld prison, until the mistakes of man had set them free. This was their world now.

Mankind had effectively become its own destruction, as even itself foretold it would be. They had the warnings, had the protesters, they knew that their ways would lead to annihilation. Yet great armies marched upon each other with reckless abandon, seeking only blood and victory for their names. Weapons of indescribable destructive power lobbed through the skies and rained down on cities across the globe. When enough blood had been shed, the gates to the underworld burst, and hell literally came to earth, quickly overrunning the meager survivors of the human race. No chance was even offered as the last vestiges of human power fell, and the demons claimed the world as their own for all of time.

The lesser demons had been the first to pour from hell. Each was savage, nigh uncontrollable in ferocity, only seeking to murder, rape, and pillage every ounce of mortal flesh they could get their wretched claws on. Though small in size, barely four feet at their largest, they demonstrated impossible strength and keen, inhuman senses, which served them well for hunting survivors. Those few souls lucky enough to survive the initial onslaught witnessed the soon arrival of the demons minor and major.

The minor and major creatures of hell were larger than the lesser monstrosities, and demonstrated far more intelligence and control over their actions, but were far fewer in number. They immediately gained control of the lesser demons, putting them to work in capturing mortals on a regular basis, rather than always resorting to rape and murder. After all, humans made excellent slaves, and the minor and major demons knew that their masters would require slaves to build and maintain their new empire. To this end, training began immediately for captured humans. The mortals were treated as the lowest form of filth, kept most often naked, cold, starved, and raped repeatedly as the demons tried to instill in them the sense of being owned completely, and the knowledge that all of their masters desires were to be met fully and without question. The demon lords usually delighted in the sexual usage of mortal flesh.

When the lords finally came, the beginnings of the demon reign had been firmly in place. Slaves were put to work immediately, building, serving, breeding, all for the purpose of furthering the kingdom. Once the new cities began to take shape, mortals’ roles changed to include general keeping of the houses of the lords. Slave ownership was a sign of power, and the ones that were beautiful and fair to look at were reserved strictly for the lords’ usage. The demon lords, who stood at a monstrous nine feet average, as compared to the minor and major demons, who were only as large as the average man, were the fewest in number by far, only a few dozen in total scattered across the globe. But they were the most powerful of the demon castes. They were the ones that held the true power. It was said that a lord could not be created or earned. It simply was.

Valroth was one such lord. The ancient creature held an appropriate position of power within his city, which had long since been created. Of course, he remembered well the fall of man, but it had been long enough now that very few, if any mortals were left alive that could actually have seen the first days. Most humans now simply accepted their world as absolute, having never known anything prior. The demon now stood on the great balcony of his monstrous home and gazed over his city. He knew that the minor and major demons inhabited the core of the city, with the lesser demons running amok along the outskirts and slums. It proved to be a natural deterrent for any escaping hopeful mortals, as they would have to pass unprotected through the slums of the lesser demons in order to escape completely. With their keen senses and hunger for blood, only the lucky mortals were killed within the first few days of their capture by the foul creatures.

The large humanoid lifted his eyes to the west, towards the setting sun and noted the trail of dust along the beginnings of the wastelands that surrounded the city. It was a hunting party. Minor demons leading lesser demons on the hunt for fresh mortals to fill the slave ranks. They would most likely return with a fresh catch this evening, which meant Valroth would be shopping for a new breeder tonight. His last breeder had proved unfruitful, and after being broken by the demon himself, was tossed in the slums for a slow and anguishing death that was sure to follow at the hands of the lesser monsters. He was now in the market for a new girl, fresh and untouched, and was ready to pay any price for such a slave. The demon was even quite intent on training this one himself.

His wife, if she could be called that, had married him simply for the status. She was the jealous type, fiercely protective of her position, yet never truly desired his bed. Any time the master of the house wanted her, he had to force himself upon her. She never struggled or went against his wishes, as she had the knowledge of what that might mean, yet he craved actual excitement and lust. Even so, she was quite territorial, and had been with the last slave he had chosen for breeding. Demon women could not bear, so there was a sore spot that was often cultivated whenever new demon stock was born of human female loins, but this seemed to go beyond just that. But even she knew better than to rob him of a potential slave. For now, she was only held at bay by his wrath.

Upon seeing the cloud of dust form again and start to return to the city, the demon lord turned and walked back inside. He had to duck slightly under the entrance to ensure that the massive horns that jutted from his forehead cleared the archway, and his torn and fractured leathery wings were folded back upon themselves and tucked behind his back as a tattered cape. His muscular form was only clad in a smooth, silken loincloth, which hid the pride that had torn and nearly broken many a mortal female in his time on this planet. Sharp, animalistic nails ended the fingers that gripped the doorway as he passed through. Aside from these features, and a hot glow to his flesh, an untrained eye might mistake him for a giant of a man, as his legs and torso were human in appearance, albeit broad and powerful.

Several hours later, darkness had engulfed the demon city that shone like a spotlight amidst the barren wastelands and ruins that surrounded it for hundreds of miles. Valroth and his personal escorts of a dozen major demons arrived at the scene of the latest auction as it was just getting under way. He stood in silence, patiently waiting as males and females were paraded and bid on one after another. None were to his liking. None seemed to fit what he was looking for. He had nearly given up in disgust and was just about to turn and leave, when a female mortal caught his eye. As soon as he saw her, he knew that she was to bear him his spawn, as many as he could put through that lithe body of hers. His lips curled in a sneer.

Bids went up immediately, rocketing higher and higher, as the demons clambered for a price to purchase the beauty. Each had thoughts of nights for pleasure, using her body to bring themselves endless satisfaction. But they all quickly went deathly silent as the sole demon lord called out deeply over the crowd. “She is mine.”

He strode forward towards the auctioneer and his prize, his eyes staring seemingly into her very soul as the crowd parted silently and allowed his passage unhindered. When he arrived, he simply tossed a satchel full of coins on the stage at the auctioneer’s feet, then motioned towards the girl. His major demon entourage swept forward and laid hands on the woman in order to ferry her back to their master’s home upon his bidding. Only a few remained at their lord’s side. Valroth spoke again, his voice quieter, but no less commanding.

“Take her back, clean her up, and chain her down within my chambers.” The order was simple, and the demons moved quickly to make it a reality as they dragged her off roughly. Valroth waited for a moment, then turned and walked away, gliding smoothly as he towered over the parted crowd and disappeared into the night, followed by his personal guards.

When he re-entered his home, he knew that she would be waiting chained in his chambers, just as he had ordered. There had been enough time to complete the task, so he had little doubt that this would be the case. His feet carried him slowly up the spiraling staircase of his great house, as the sneer grew upon his face. He was very much looking forward to the fun that would be had in breaking this one in. She seemed such a unique specimen. When he finally pushed the door to his chamber open, he simply stared for several moments, taking in her form. Not a word left his mouth as he entered fully and moved past her to take a casual seat in the large, ornate throne, made of bone, ivory, gold, and gems, which stood near her spot. Even longer spent without words as he continued to study. Finally, he did speak, his voice smooth and nearly musical, though deep and with sinister undertones.

“Welcome to my home, slave.”

Sunlight streamed through the cracks in the ruins that was their ceiling – mass amounts of rubble overlapping each other leaving a gap underneath. It used to be a basement, back in their day. A family of human beings would have lived freely above them – in a well structured house, with warmth and food. Their ancestors would not look out of the window and see the world as they did now. According to stories the land used to be colourful with life; green lands, blue skies and wildlife fluttering around with barely a care in the world.

When she rose to peer out of one of the gaps in the rubble, she saw nothing but desolation. A wasteland of a world destroyed by the demons that now occupied it due to the war lost by their kind. Every now and then, she would see a small runt of a demon sniffing around at the cracks of their hideout. Usually, one of them would be on guard – and if the lesser demon managed to clock onto the fact there was human flesh underneath the rocks, one of them would leap out and attack it before it alerted any of the others.

And they hadn't been in this hideout long. It had been a hurried decision after running away from their last shelter – which they had been chased out of. Only one human had ever come back to tell the tale of what capture was like – and she was a dying woman who had been thrown out of the Lord's chambers for not providing him with offspring. Her story was horrifying. She told of her capture, her 'training' and enslavement – and every terrifying detail in-between. The woman didn't last the night, her injuries from the demons who clawed at her and attacked her as she tried to run from the city outskirts proved too much. It instilled enough fear to allow her to survive – because she didn't want to experience the same fate.

Pushing stray strands of long chocolate coloured hair behind her ears, climbed onto one of the rocks and looked up towards the ceiling. Holding onto the side of the basement wall, she peered through the gap of rocks and checked the surroundings in front of them for a few moments. It seemed desolate, for now. She lowered herself slowly, glancing back with blue eyes at the huddled up group beneath her. They read her expression and seemed to relax a little.

One of the women murmured, “The hunger pains are too much.” Which set off a few mumbled agreements from the survivors around her.

Ophelia rested a hand on her own flat stomach. They were struggling for food, there was nothing left for them to eat. A couple of men had left their shelter to go and salvage food but had not returned. She slid down to sit on the boulder of rubble that she had been standing on, and rested her hands by her side. All of them dressed in barely any clothes – the sun beat down relentlessly on them and none of them could afford to overheat in the wasteland weather. Water was precious too, and was not to be wasted. She was scantily clad in dirty beige shorts and a white vest that was torn and muddied by dust. It revealed her scrawny form, although a couple of the men still commented offhandedly how attractive a woman she was, despite being malnourished. But then again, she supposed any woman would be attractive to a waste-lander.

“We have to move.” She answered finally, her girlish voice coming out in a dry croak. Her throat felt as though it was lined with sand, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. She reached out for a bottle of water they'd salvaged, and drank a few precious drops. There had to be enough for everyone. It took everything within her not to finish the bottle. And by the Gods did she know she needed it.

A soft scuttling noise above the surface made her freeze in place. Everyone beneath the surface seemed to hold their breath. She slowly turned and glanced up at the small gap in the rocks. There was a snuffling and scratching noise at the rocks above her head.

Her mouth began to grow dry again, her eyes widened as she prayed to the Gods that the lesser demon would move along. Her heart thudded loudly in her ears as she tried to hold her breath. The others' terrified eyes seemed fixed on the small slit of light as they saw a black figure darken the gap. Ophelia swallowed tightly.

An almighty screeching noise rang through the air. Ophelia leapt up, and her eyes immediately fixed on the one rock they moved to get out of their shelter. She looked back to see the lesser demon had gone. Panic had her heart racing and her breathing quickened. She looked at the others, “I'll hold him off, you need to run. I'll follow.” But before she could even glance at the rock, she felt thudding footsteps shake the ground above them. “No...” She whimpered, and before she could even comprehend it, the rocks were being pulled from the surface with an almighty growling noise.

One of the boulders that was supporting their makeshift roof fell through and barely missed Ophelia. She squealed, and then shrieked as she saw one of the survivors had been beneath the rubble as it fell. Blue eyes widened and tried to adjust in the sudden sunlight, and she lifted a blunt knife to try and the demon that was reaching for her.

She missed, and the knife dropped from her hand as he yanked her by the wrist and threw her onto the floor beside the shelter. She looked up blearily, and cowered beneath the bigger being. She was a meagre 5'4”, a scrawny 19 year old that lay on the ground before the hunting leader. He grinned wide, revealing a mass amount of sharp teeth as he inspected her closely.

“I expect...” The demon rumbled, looking rather pleased with himself, “That this one... Will bring a lot … Of gold home...”

Ophelia gave a yell, and tried to get up to run. The demon's foot met her back, crushing her into the ground as she cried out. He spoke over her noises of pain, “Tie her up. Start walking. I have plans for this one. Take her to the cells. Have her cleaned up. And alert Lord Valroth of our discovery. She is a beauty, for mortal flesh. He will be most pleased.” He beamed at her.

Ophelia looked around desperately, and saw that the other survivors were already being dragged away. The demons had already decided that the old man they had been staying with was not worth taking with them, and they left him in the crumbled shelter for the lesser demons. She struggled underneath his foot, clawing at the dirt and fighting endlessly to try and escape him.

The hunting leader, Akrim, picked her up. And with no struggle at all, tossed her to the others, who snickered and dragged her back towards the city.

The sun's heat proved too much, and her eyes rolled back as their destroyed world went dark.

–

“She is clean and ready for viewing.”

Forcing her eyes open, Ophelia felt something prickly and harsh poke at her skin. Her hands slowly explored the ground around her, and she realised she was lying on straw. Her vision hadn't focused yet, and she blindly reached out to find bars in front of her face. Shaking back long brown hair, she gripped the poles and as her sight seemed to clear up, two demons stood before her at the otherside of the bars. She scowled at them, looking a little dazed and confused. One of the demons laughed, and clapped the other over the back.

“I will alert the Lord of our discovery now.”

As he disappeared, Ophelia sat up and shuffled away from the bars, glaring hatefully at the demon before her. She saw there was a bowl of water beside the cell door. And as thirsty as she was, she couldn't bring herself to drink from it. She didn't trust them.

Closing her eyes, she fell back against the straw again, watching the door and looking defeated. She just wanted one of them to open it, so she could attempt to escape. She wondered if the others were alive, and tried to envision what had become of them. She shivered, resting her head and closing her eyes tightly as she gripped at the straw. She would not obey them. Alana had told her they were a force not to be reckoned with, but she would prove her wrong.

Valroth studied the female before him for several long moments, then slowly came to a stand. His full nine feet was impressive when compared to a being half his size. As he approached the girl, his feet were silent, stalking, moving him smoothly closer to his captured prey. Her eyes were wide and fearful, and he drank in that fear like a glass of the finest wine. When he stopped in front of her, his hand came out to brush her cheek. The female’s pounding heart could be clearly felt through the skin of her cheek. She was deathly afraid. As well she should be.

The demon lord smiled, a wide, wicked grin that showed off sharp teeth that were all neat and well kept. She gasped and tried to shy away from his touch, which brought a slight deep laugh from the hunter. She would learn to crave his touch over time. Provided, of course, that she survived the night. Then she tried something that surprised him. She bit at his finger.

Rage began to course through the deadly creature’s veins. It wasn’t that the weak girl’s bite caused any pain. It was that she dared to try and harm the great demon lord. Maybe he was used to the blind obedience of his last girl, maybe he was in a particularly sour mood this night. For whatever reason, his hand wrapped around her throat like a vice and lifted her from the ground as a weightless doll. The heavy chains clambered and swayed noisily as she hung from the end of his grasp. Rivulets of blood streamed down her neck from where the talon-like nails had started to pierce flesh. And all the while, she clawed at his bony, vice-like hand in panic, her eyes wide as she tried in vain to draw precious breath.

The demon lord dropped her unceremoniously and turned away. “You will learn your place, insolent mortal. I am your true master now, and the only thing on this wretched world that allows you to live. Defy me, an-” His deep, smooth voice was cut off as he heard a strangle gurgling behind him, and he spun on his heel to glare at the girl. She was huddled in a fetal position and still clawing at her throat in the same panic, breathing labored and wet. He cursed under his breath as he realized that he had cut too deeply with his nails in his rage, rendering her throat useless as a life giving tool. A sharp bark came from his mouth, and immediately the massive doors to his chambers swung open and a pair of major demons ran in and took a kneel just in front of the entrance.

Valroth grabbed the girl by the throat once again, ignoring her panic, and lifted her high enough to snap the heavy chains as if they were delicate as twigs, then he tossed her casually across the room as her body bounced sickeningly over the stone and came to a stop in front of his servants, unmoving. If she was still alive, she wouldn’t be for long. “Dispose of this.”

The demon lord growled in frustration and turned to take a seat in his throne once again, his forehead resting in his hand. How would he ever have suitable spawn if he couldn’t control his temper? This latest acquisition had lasted a grand total of five minutes in his charge. He would need to greatly improve such numbers if he ever hoped to plant his seed successfully. It wasn’t as if she could have even broken his skin. Demon flesh was much tougher and more resilient than mortal skin, and it took a great feet of strength to pierce or damage it in any way. At least by human standards. To be able to break skin by biting? Unheard of.

His thoughts were interrupted soon after his charges had dragged off the girl’s body by the entrance of another. He didn’t even have to look up as he heard the slinking footsteps, smelled her scent clearly. “What do you want, Elana?” His voice was flat now, lacking even the smallest bit of patience for such things as his power-hungry wife.

“I came to offer my condolences, dear husband. I know how important a good breeding slave is to one so powerful as you.” The woman was laying on the praise thickly tonight, but her tone belied a smug satisfaction over the tone of events. Female demons, while not as powerful or high in station as their male counterparts, were very much creatures not to be trusted or trifled with. He understood this too well, but knew that she could or would never harm him. His very life kept her in the highest form of status available to a female demon, and she wouldn’t dream of jeopardizing that, no matter how much she despised her husband.

“I’m sure you’re very torn up over it, wife.” He said dryly.

“My lord, if there is anything I can do...”

“Spare me your kindness, woman. When I desire something from you, I will visit you chambers and simply spread your thighs as I always do. Go. Tend to the duties a woman of your status has earned. I am in no mood for games.” The demon lord waved his hand dismissively, wishing to seethe in solitude for the time. The devious woman hung her head to bow, mumbled a departing honor, and began to slink out once again. Just as she neared the door, another demon bolted in and dropped to a knee, speaking quickly once he had done so.

“My lord! We have come across a rare gem among the mortal race. Kellan says it may be the finest specimen he’s seen in ages. We are keeping her safe for your arrival.”

Velroth’s head lifted slowly. So, the night wouldn’t be a total loss, then. “We leave at once.” He rose and strode out, passing Elana as she stood stock still at the doorway. He didn’t fail to notice the disgusted look that she tried to hide by bowing her head at his passage. The woman was trouble, even by demon standards. He would have to keep an eye on her.

-

Some time later, Valroth was entering the room that served as a holding area for freshly captured mortals. He had to duck under the archway to ensure his head and massive horns made it through the entrance, but once inside, he simply stood to study the cages. “Is this her?” He asked, upon taking note of a particular girl in the center of the long row of half empty cages.

“Yes, milord. We picked her up only today.”

The massive creature only nodded simply, then approached the cage and stared into it. She was something to look at, yes. But was she strong enough to survive? Only time would tell. He turned suddenly and spoke in a commanding tone. “Deliver her to me. I will see that you get paid upon her arrival. She is not to be touched, except by me.”

Without another word, or even a glance back at the caged girl, Valroth left the room.

Ophelia rolled over slightly in the straw. The demons seemed to wander past idly every now and then, but she was left alone for a while. Occassionally, one would comment on her appearance. They mentioned a demon Lord and how well they had done. She didn't understand what they meant. But she had a gut feeling something wasn't right. This wasn't just capture - there was something more to this than what met the eye. According to the dying woman, demons were mindless brutes that took what they wanted - when they wanted. The capture and holding seemed far too calculated to be just that.

These beings were intelligent.

She was dressed in clean clothes. It didn't feel right. The rags of her clothes had been thrown away, and instead she had been given a simple white cotton dress that hung off her scrawny form. She was clean - they had been correct. Her skin was clear of the dust and grime that stuck to her, revealing fair skin that was marked with a few cuts and bruises - showing a little evidence of her endeavors in the wasteland that was Earth.

Lying still in the straw for a while, Ophelia wondered how long she would be kept in the cell. With nothing to do but watch demons pass and think - her mind kept playing out the scene of her capture. What could she have done differently? Did she keep them in one place for two long?

She couldn't help but feel as though the survivors' fates had been sealed by her own actions. Curling up a little more, blue eyes flickered closed for a moment. The straw was comfier than the hard floor and rocks that she had endured. She wished to sleep for an eternity - she wanted to allow her aching body to have much needed rest. Licking her lips dryly, she eyed the water bowl in the corner of the cell.

She needed it.

Swallowing hard, she turned away so she didn't have to face the water. It didn't matter, she was still thinking about it. Eventually, she shimmied over, lowered her head and lifted the bowl weakly. She tipped the bowl and shakily drank from the side. What had humanity been reduced to? She felt sick as she finished the water. It was a relief to have moisture return to her mouth and throat, yet she felt degraded and humiliated. Sliding back over to the straw, she resumed position and sighed.

Her head raised as an alert was called through the hallway of the cells. She heard a demon call something about the Demon Lord. Stiffening, she remembered the dying woman's description of how the ranks worked. Her eyes widened a little and before she could hide away - he was there.

Her eyes drank in his appearance. She had never seen anything like him before. Her cowering was almost inadvertant; his mere image was enough to instill fear within her. She swallowed tightly, sitting up a little as he approached the cage. She was as tense as a bowstring throughout his visit, sitting frozen as he examined her form.

The order to deliver her made her heart skip a beat. Panic began to rise as she realised this demon Lord wanted her. When the demon Lord left, she heard some of the demon females complain of how filthy humans received their Lord's attention - and then went on to complain about Elana.

Who was Elana?

Ophelia didn't know. A couple of rather broad looking demons yanked open the cell door and wasted no time lunging for her resistant form. She found herself kicking and screaming eventually. One of them tied up her wrists and shoved her towards the door. Their tight grip made her cry out, and they realised they were hurting her. Grumbling about her pretty looks, the demons forced her towards Valroth's chambers.

She was with one demon by then, escorted by a single demon now. He was a courier, it seemed. As he had kept discussing money before he arrived at the door. He placed the goods in front of himself. Ophelia swallowed nervously, seeming to cower underneath these big beasts. Her eyes widened as the door opened and she looked at the floor immediately.

"My Lord." Was the gruff greeting, and she was guided towards him. She leaned back, not wanting to enter. The gentle guiding turned into a rough shove, and she stumbled against the demon Lord, looking up and shivering a little.

The courier waited for his money, and Ophelia waited for the end of her world.

Valroth sat upon his throne, his chin resting in his massive hand, and he waited impatiently for the new slave to be delivered. The bone, gold, and gem laden seat was one of his favorite places to sit and ponder, simply relax, or drive away impatience. The latter was not happening at this moment, and he was too wound up for relaxing, so he turned to pondering to ease the slow passage of time. All of eternity to draw from, and a few minutes were wearing on the demon lord. What was wrong with him?

As images of the very brief encounter with the potential new mortal slave focused in his mind’s eye, he wondered vaguely why spreading his seed hadn’t become so important to him till only recently. For the past half a century since the demon lords began walking this planet, the others had taken upon themselves to enslave human females for the sole purpose of breeding. Valroth had held no interest in such things. But at some point last year, the desire had taken him, and it was nigh uncontrollable, and definitely undeniable. That is what had driven him to take his previous slave for breeding. But she had proven barren, and thus disposed of like the filth humans were. Now the demon lord needed another. He would have to be more careful with this new one, as he had lost his temper only recently and ruined what seemed to be perfectly good stock. If he was to spread his seed, then he would need this one to stay alive.

A noise in the hall cause the demon lord to abandon his thoughts and lift his head. Still a ways off, but by the distinct sounds, one of his fellow demons, a major if he could interpret correctly, was guiding a smaller figure towards his chambers. Small, tiny, unwilling footsteps, bare, human; it had to be the girl. Valroth rose to his full height and strode evenly towards the massive doors to await just in front of them for their arrival. The moments passed as he stood still as a statue, counting the steps heard from beyond the room in his mind, marking their progress with each.

Finally, the door swung open, and within moments, the tiny female mortal was pushed and stumbled up against his rock hard form. His head slowly dropped, glaring at her deeply as his eyes flashed in annoyance. Then, as if dismissing her entirely, he looked up to the courier.

“It was not touched?” Valroth growled deeply.

“No, my lord. We wouldn’t dare indulge in your property.” The major demon bowed low, obviously intimidated by his master.

Valroth nodded simply, seemingly satisfied. If one of them had known the girl, he would find out, and he would simply tear them limb from limb before too long. He would accept it as truth for now. His eyes dropped again to study the girl. Long, dark hair, thin body, hands bound behind her back. Hardly as fine a quality as he had originally thought. His fist wrapped around the front of the simple dress and lifted her up into the air, so that he could study her form more carefully than before. But the dress was in the way.

His free hand lashed out quickly to capture an ankle, and he flipped her easily in the air to hold her small body upside down by one ankle. The other extended a single, long, bony finger and used the attached talon-like claw to smoothly and easily swipe a straight cut along the length of the white fabric, which fell noiselessly to the floor below. His eyes traveled every exposed curve, every recess, searching, assessing, wordlessly appraising his latest acquisition. Finally, the silence was broken. “Half,” was the sole word that spilled from the demon lord’s mouth.

“Half, my lord? She is a fine specimen...”

“This thing is frail, easily broken. Malnourished and hardly fit to bear even a single spawn. These hips,” Valroth ran a claw along her side in gesture, “might be wide for bearing, but the rest of it’s body is too small. How can it effectively complete its duties if the first of them rips it apart?”

“But sire-”

“Half. No more.” The master’s voice was stern, not to be mistaken as a suggestion, but simply as the demand it was.

The smaller courier shifted uncomfortably and chewed on its lip for a long moment, before finally bowing respectfully and sighing out his acceptance of the price. The demon lord was probably right, and he could work harder to replace this one when it got broken, and fetch full price if he was lucky. With a short, curt grunt, the major demon exited and the massive doors to Valroth’s chambers closed with a resounding boom. The master and his property were alone at last.

The monstrous being held his new toy in the air for several more minutes, then finally directed his smooth, deep voice at her. “To be in the house of a demon lord is a great honor, thing. I expect proper behavior from the one that will be bearing a great many of my spawn...”

The hungry, burning eyes stared deeply in to hers, and his teeth flashed beneath the evil sneer that stretched his lips.

“It was not touched?”

She was property. Not a 'she', nor a 'her'. It...

Looking up at the towering demon, she attempted to straighten her bony shoulders and stand tall. Being slightly smaller than the average human, she struggled to look any more valiant beneath the looming beast - her attempt proved to be in vain. She felt a slow wave of panic creep over her, and it showed in those widening blue eyes.

As his big hand clenched her clothing and lifted her clear off her feet, a soft noise left her lips. Her hands strained against the rope binding her wrists desperately. The cotton felt as though it was going to split and she would tumble to the ground.

She didn't have to worry about the dress for too long. In moments, she gave a cry as she dangled by her ankle, her hair in her face as the froze. She heard a short tearing noise and felt the cotton slide from her skin. Swallowing tentatively, she shivered in his grasp and closed her eyes. Pink spread across her cheeks in embarrassment. When he spoke of her form in such a bland fashion, she grew hotter with shame... and anger.

When she was finally left alone with him, she swallowed her fright and looked back into his eyes as deeply as he was staring into her's. His words meant nothing to her. She was a human being, a fighter for freedom... She couldn't match this monster. Not with physical strength. The only demons she and the other survivors had ever come face to face with before were mindless creatures, scrambling for human flesh desperately - with zero to limited intelligence.

Ophelia's eyes flickered to the sneer on his lips before glancing back up with an irritatingly blank expression. She would not rebel openly, but her expression and lack of response meant she was not about to fall on hands and knees before him. Breathing in deeply, she tried to ignore how she was bare and exposed to him, her body curling up a little in his hold - as if she was trying to preserve her already revealed form and the remainder of her warmth somehow.

The girl glanced behind him, ignoring his eyes and smirk for a moment to catch the eyes of a female demon lingering in one of the doorways of his chambers. The demoness also took more of a human form than the lesser demons, her beautiful sleek body pressed against the archway of the wall. She was dressed as expected of a Lady to a Lord. Rich fabric had been tailored to her voluptuous form, and had been done in a fashion that revealed her assets beautifully.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Ophelia felt the hatred burning hotly from her expression alone. It sent a brief shiver through her body - which was growing cold from the exposure.

Elana...?

The female demon disappeared, and she tore her gaze away from the archway quickly. In the grasp of a Demon Lord... Her expression suddenly turned into pure disgust at the mere thought. She quickly realised he was still watching her. Her gaze snapped up at him, looking more than a little intimidated in his hold. She knew she may have offended him, but all she could do was pray he didn't notice.

There was a measured amount of anger rising in the gut of the powerful demon lord at this point. His new slave seemed to have a measure of spirit, which was good. But her lack of respect was rather trying his patience. He nearly lost his control for a brief instant, and had to mentally calm himself with the flash of memory that passed through his mind. The image of his last potential breeder clutching vainly at her own throat, which had been nearly ripped open, as she died in a panic. His eyes drifted to the spot where she had been chained. There was still blood drying there. Such a shame humans weren’t more resilient.

This new slave would do well to remember that...

The thing’s eyes had ignored him for several moments, staring at something else entirely. When they had finally come back up to meet his, there was a look of disgust clearly etched across her face. There was no hiding that, even as it disappeared as quickly as it had formed. Fear remained. Fear was healthy. Fear would keep her alive.

With a small impatient noise under his breath, Valroth lowered her a few feet, then dropped her unceremoniously to the hard, cold floor below. He knew she wasn’t going anywhere. She was naked, hands bound behind her back, and there was no way she would have been able to open the massive doors to his chambers, even if she had use of her hands. Feeble mortals. She would soon understand just how hopeless her situation was, he would make sure that much was ingrained within her mind. But first would come the marking. He had to show her as completely his.

His hand swung low to catch her by the long dark hair and he started walking while dragging her towards the room’s rather large fire place. The heat poured from the blaze, but it didn’t bother him. They were close enough for him to reach out and grasp the handle of a long medal rod, which he shoved end-first into the base of the fire. The hottest point. As he waited, he turned to regard the girl whose hair was caught in his powerful fist.

“So, you have been here only a few minutes, and already you forget your place. This will change, my pet. Yes, pet. I’m sure you have heard of the old human customs of keeping non-intelligent animals as pets, haven’t you?” He paused for a moment to glance into the fire, then continued speaking while ignoring her completely.

“You are no better than an animal to us. And just as pathetic. Thus, you are my pet.”

The rod was withdrawn finally, and he glared at the glowing end with a sneer crossing his lips wickedly. The bright red metal was shaped in a design she would grow to learn. The symbol of his house. Its swirls would be more easily seen once it had been used.

“But you are more, don’t worry. You will fulfill my desires. All of them.”

His hand released her hair, but worked to roll her onto her stomach, and his heavy knee was placed roughly on her shoulderblades to prevent too much squirming around at what was about to come.

“Service...”

The super-heated design of metal brand grew closer to the outside of her right thigh, near her hip.

“Sexual...”

His free hand was placed directly upon her bare ass, and squeezed hard. The claw-like nails dug in, and five rivulets of crimson blood dripped slowly down the curve of flesh. He was holding her as still as possible for this.

“And to bear my many spawn.”

As soon as the last words left his lips, the metal that would sear and permanently scar flesh made contact with the smooth, previously blemish-free area on the outside of her right thigh, just below her hip. It was held for several moments, before finally pulled away. His face curled in a wicked sneer, sharp teeth showing between lips as he stood and tossed the branding tool back into the corner near the fire to cool on its own. She was his now, in body. Mind and soul made so little difference for his needs. All that he cared about was using her small body for pleasure and procreation. His sizable member began to lift at the front of loincloth at the thought. But he would exercise patience for now.

It was a simple matter to drag her away again. It was another simple matter to lock the large metal iron around her neck. The chain would hold her in place for the night. He would be going to sleep and prepare for tomorrow.

“I suggest you rest, thing. We have so much in store, you and I.” He laughed and turned towards the smaller anteroom which held his bed. He was actually looking forwards to this. Sleep came quickly, with many images dancing in his mind.

She wanted to scream and fight but Ophelia knew it was pointless. The only measure of resistance she allowed herself was to hang from his fist like a sack of flour as he dragged her across the room. When she saw him pick up the brand however, her knees buckled. He was already tossing her down, pinioning her with his weight and explaining just what he had acquired her for.

“Service... Sexual... And to bear my many spawn.”

She retched as he groped her, unable to conceive of how a creature of his proportions could possibly use her in that way. He was half as tall again as a mortal man, with broad shoulders and powerful hips that made him seem taller still. To bear 'spawn' to a vile abomination like that would kill her, Ophelia had no doubt of it. It was the most revolting idea she had ever heard.

The brand pressed into her thigh and then even the terror of being raped by him was eclipsed by the pain. Ophelia shrieked in agony as her skin burned and he continued to apply pressure. It took everything she had not to void her bladder upon his floor. Her stomach retched, dry heaves because it had been so long since she had eaten or drunk anything.

He tossed the branding iron aside and Ophelia cracked an eye open. In her limited field of vision as he crouched over her, the bulge beneath his loincloth was unmistakable. Torturing her had aroused him... or perhaps it was merely the acrid scent of barbecued human flesh.

Ophelia's limbs had gone to jelly and she offered no resistance as he dragged her into a corner of the room and locked a shackle around her neck. She cowered at his feet, fully expecting him to prise her legs apart and rape her right there on the stone floor. She sobbed with relief as he walked away. Though spending the night in terrified anticipation was almost worse.

“I suggest you rest, thing. We have so much in store, you and I.”

Ophelia lay on her side, her burned hip exposed to the cold air. She wanted to cry but making any noise might anger him. She huddled in a foetal ball until she fell into an exhausted, fitful doze.