Deep in the cavernous underground banquet hall, he pushed looked at the glass of wine sullenly and pushed it away for the second time, attempting a menacing look. It wasn't his strong suit. He actually would have liked a drink to get him though this evening but if it was sent by who he thought, then he wasn't interested. Instead he tried to pay attention to the king's speech directed at the lords and ladies of the demon court. It was taking forever and a day as he went on about the accomplishments of his generals in the latest battle. Not easy listening for the man whom everyone called "the king's disappointment."
Astaroth certainly looked the part of a typical demon. His face was pale and cruel, set with dark red eyes like garnets, passed down from the royal line of his mother, unlike the black eyes normally found on most of his kin. He was tall with the branding of powerful spells burned into his skin. Carrying the scars on his body was a small price to pay for the protection they offered though he had never excelled working magic itself. Despite all this and being born the king's son, he was an utter failure at being a demon, preferring to read or anything else really over making war against the Angel army. He wasn't particularly vicious for a demon either. His only real weapons were his caustic sense of humor and sharp mind.
This was of course, an intolerable embarrassment for his father who ignored him, and to his sister who took advantage of every opportunity to attempt to murder him and take his place in line for the throne. It was mostly for this reason he turned down that glass of wine. Being poisoned had been no fun the first time she tried it. There was a lot of pain and foaming at the mouth ending with a long stay in the infirmary. He couldn't prove anything but they all knew who had done it and they all saw he hadn't retaliated. Of course he'd tried but failed quickly with no allies. No one would stand against his sister, not with her reputation, so it was only a matter of time he supposed until she won. Still, he didn't plan on making it easy for her. He hoped the speech was almost over.
"...in that the enemy's front line was broken and the hit was executed boldly by General Surgat's incredible strategy we were able to gain ground," the King continued.
Everyone turned to look at Surgat, the amazon size woman reclining in the seat nearest the throne, scarred head to toe in battle runes. Kneeling obediently on the floor was her new pet, a tiny blonde thing with big soft eyes and long lashes. She was bound up in some kind of strappy leather bondage harness and nothing else. Her mistress was raking what could only be described as claws across her tender breasts with the other hand holding a tight grip on her leash and collar. It was difficult to tell whether the lower demon shuddered in pleasure or pain but it was of no importance really. Once General Surgat took an interest in someone they endured until she was tired of playing with them or they died under mysterious and horrific circumstances.
"Thank you, your majesty," she said, smiling smugly, "I will take a hundred more during our next battle."
The roars of approval from the crowd echoed off the stone walls of the chamber until they were signaled to silence by the king and settled down.
"I am sure General Surgat will be good to her word," he paused,"...and there is an even greater advantage we have taken during this latest battle. I will reveal it when the time is right. For now, we will drink and feast to victory!"
The court called out its assent again before beginning to eat and drink and in some cases, fuck right there on the floor. The lords and ladies in their finery really were a sight to behold in their various states of undress. Astaroth felt plain in his button up shirt, pants and biker boots, black of course. He spotted a full length gown made of nothing but raven's feathers shining blue-black in the candle light. A male demon seated directly next to her wore only leather pants and the chains that hung from his pierced nipples and ears. Another woman came to sit on his lap, covered only by strategically placed blood red gems glittering in the candlelight. Both their eyes had turned jet black from lust, blotting out the whites around the iris.
Astaroth had just locked eyes with that wicked bejeweled woman from across the room and thought about joining in when he felt his father's hand on his shoulder, motioning him to step out into the hallway. Making his way through the throng he found his sister Soratha was waiting for them. Her dark red hair was done up in some elaborate style and she smiled coldly at him.
"Hello brother."
He ignored her and turned to his father. "Is this about the advantage you were mentioning at dinner?"
"Yes, I'd already informed Soratha about this earlier."
Of course he did.
"I want your assistance with this project. As my heir it's time you contributed to the cause. You know our mages and our weapons technology department have been working together to develop a way to study the vultures. Because of that, our knowledge has been greatly improved and we have captured one of them. It is here in the complex now."
Astaroth stopped fuming for a moment. None of the enemy had been caught alive since before he was born. "You've caught an angel? A live one?"
"Yes, it is under lock and key right now in one of our interrogation rooms."
He meant torture chamber.
"You will be present and guard it while Soratha and I gather a team to complete the interrogation. She will show you to the prisoner and you will wait for us there. Then you will assist with the interrogation." He fixed them both with a level stare. "No matter what misgivings occurred between the two of you in the past, you will put them aside for now. This is too important for sibling squabbling. It is a chance for us to gain the upper hand and a chance for you to prove yourselves."
With that he nodded and turned on his heel to head down the hall, apparently ending the conversation and leaving Astaroth with his would be murderer.
"Come on," Soratha said, tipping her head to the direction they should go.
Thankfully it was a short and silent walk through the underground maze of tunnels that made up the fortress. The subterranean setup shielded them from detection for the most part. Not many windows were built in. She stopped in front of a door with the number 12 engraved on it.
"Here we are," she said in a cheerful tone as if going to a party rather than to a torture chamber, "the code is 4482. I'll go find father and see when he'll be ready. I know it's difficult for you but try not to fuck anything up while I'm gone." She started to turn around.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said wryly. She swiveled back around and gave him a dangerous look.
"Oh, and don't remove the gag. The last thing we need is for you talking to it. Fuck this up for me and I won't miss this time when I trip with that knife in my hand. You know how clumsy I can be." With that she sauntered off.
Astaroth waited for her to leave before turning his back, in case she was planning to produce a knife right there and stab him in it. As soon as she was clear, he punched in the key code and the door popped open leaking out the acrid smell of disinfectant. He'd never had a reason to come into one of these rooms before and the bright lights shining off the stainless steel walls surprised him. This looked more like an operating room than a dungeon.
As he walked through the thick steel door and closed it tightly behind him, he was instantly entranced by the naked form in the middle of the room bound standing in heavy duty restraints. They were taking no chances with the steel bands wrapping around her ankles, thighs, chest, arms, wings and neck, leaving her motionless. To say she was gorgeous would be a grievous understatement. The first thing he noticed was the long golden hair flowing to her waist; not blonde really; true gold like a new coin with hair between her legs to match. This was apparently common for angels.
But her tricolor eyes were truly exquisite gems, saphire blue layered with emerald green were bound together by a ring of gold. At the moment they were wide with a rage that would have scorched a hole through his skull if looks could do such things. Unfortunately, the bottom half of her face was covered by a thick leather gag. He stepped closer to get a better look.
It was true what they say about angels glowing, Astaroth thought as he circled her bound form. She emanated a subtle radiance like sunlight from beneath her milky skin; unmarked by a single mole or freckle from what he could see... and he could see plenty. He was used to seeing nudity in the demon court, enjoying lascivious afternoons with male and female partners out in the open for anyone to see, but this was different.
Her appearance was one of a living porcelain doll with dusky rose petal nipples atop perfectly formed breasts. He idly wondered if her lips were the same shade beneath the gag. But he wasn't fooled by her delicate, ethereal beauty. This was no doll. From what he could feel of her power leaking out over the binding spells, she must be ancient, at least 900 years older than his own 150 years and that meant 900 years more powerful. If she wasn't bound, she could have shredded him from the inside out until nothing remained but scraps. The rune shielding him against less powerful angels would be no use against her. Even the steel bands marked with potent bindrunes quaked as she tested their strength with her massive wings.
Those wings were white as the pure driven snow, a rare color with most being a more natural bird-like tone from what he understood. He had never seen an angel this close before, let alone touched one, and he found his fingers gravitating towards those wings. Wistfully, he stroked them and let the feathers run through his fingers, eliciting an indignant grunt from their owner. The feathers were soft as the kitten's fur he'd had as a child, the one he'd been forced to drown after it made a mess on his bed. It An unexpected powerful jealousy rose up in his chest. These wings should be his birthright but no demon had been born with even a feather after the curse had been placed that cast the light from them. Without planning to, he grabbed one of the soft, white feathers and plucked it from her flesh making her shriek and flex against the cruel steel bands holding her wings tightly.
It must have hurt, but looking at the intimidating instruments lining the wall, that would be nothing compared to what they would do to her later. Different shapes and sizes of knives, mallets, needles, twisted metal (corkscrews?) lined the wall and other things that he couldn't guess the use of. Not to mention the grate below her feet to let blood and piss flow freely down into the pipes. A sinking feeling came over him as he realized they may want him to watch the interrogation, maybe even help. Did he have the stomach for that? Shaking his head to clear the thought, another evil impulse came over him. He couldn't resist goading her a little. He was still a demon after all, even if an unfit one. It was in his nature.
"If I pulled a few more of these, you'd look just like a plucked chicken." He said into her ear.
She seethed at his words as he began to drag the feather over her pale skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Her muscles twitched and her nipples hardened as the feather tickled across a taut stomach and lovely breasts. Maybe it was her power buzzing in his brain, making him light-headed but suddenly the idea of torturing her with her own feather was incredibly funny. The indignant look on her face didn't help and he broke down giggling at his ridiculous self tickling a dangerous, ancient demigod. It was too much, even for him. He began to shake in silent laughter until tears pricked at his eyes.
Astaroth sobered quickly as the room began to shake and rumble with the force of her rage. Best not to do that again. He sat down in a chair to wait for his sister to return and drummed his fingers on a stainless steel table for all of five seconds. Here he was with this incredibly powerful being at his disposal and this was how he chose to spend his time, bored. This wouldn't do at all. It may be his only chance to speak with an angel and not be killed horribly. In the demon world, rules were meant to be broken. Besides, he was dying to see what her mouth looked like.
Unbuckling the gag at the back of her neck was easy and she stretched her jaw as the piece of leather flapped to the floor. Her lips were as he thought: dusky pink and perfect. He picked it up to reapply to her mouth later. If he was careful no one would have to know.
"Give me that back NOW if you want to live!" She spat in the direction of the feather he held.
"What do you want me to do, stick it back in? What are you going to do, unpluck it?"
"Yes."
