Her eyes fluttered open. Absolute blackness overwhelmed her sight, darkness so heavy it felt hard to breathe. She blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to focus them through the gloom. Slowly, soft torchlight illuminated brick-lined walls caked in filth, pitch black from years of use and neglect. Lines of rust-brown - blood no doubt - streaked the stones from floor to ceiling, highlighted in the soft flicker of the sconces that lined the walls. The walls were absent windows, leaving the air heavy and thick with moisture. The only entrance to the room was a heave wooden door as caked with blood as the stones. A heavy locking mechanism below the handle signaled that escape was futile.
Where the hell was she?!
Se tried to stand, to possibly escape this infernal room. She got not further than halfway up before being jerked back down to the grime-covered floor. Panicked, she whipped her head around to see that her hands and feet were bound with heavy chain, caked with rust and what looked like torn pieces of human flesh. She screamed, the high-pitched sound reverberating off the walls. She jerked wildly, trying in vain to free herself.
"Ah. So the little human is finally awake." A deep voice resounded from outside the door.
She stopped all movement. The heavy lock in the door clicked into motion, the heavy wood swinging wide. Light from the hallway flooded the room, causing her eyes to squint in pain. Two figures, their forms outlined by the blinding light, stood at the mouth of the door.
"My lord, I present to you your new servant." The same deep voice echoed off the stones walls, booming around her in the small room. "A gift from the city of Azerinoth."
"So they finally acquiesced, did they?" Another voice, this one like liquid chocolate, resounded from the taller of the two figures. It slid across the stone floor and wrapped around her skin, caressing her flesh through her fear. "I asked for a person of great importance as payment. What is she to these people?"
"She is one of the priestesses of their temple."
"Ahhhhh." The once sweet, silky voice took on a tone of unrivaled satisfaction. Whoever she was being sacrificed to, the notion of a priestess was clearly music to his ears. "A virgin, then. Excellent." The voice nearly hissed the last word.
She flinched away from the voices, backing up to the cold, grime-ridden stone. The pieces fit in her mind now, completing the puzzle of her fate. Only demons, creatures of unrivaled malice and suffering, would have such a reaction towards a priestess. Her mind raced back to the previous months of turmoil and restlessness of her home. Azerinoth was a stronghold built high in the Lucratias mountains on the boundaries of Astheron and Nordicia, a fortress of unparalleled strength and fortitude. After decades of war and death, the people, weary and starving from sieges, abandoned the old gods of light and love and flocked to those known as the Lords of Blood. Demons born of a more ancient time and strength, the Blood Lords accepted the offer of protection in exchange for a yearly sacrifice of blood. In the years after the wars, temples were built and priests and priestesses were gathered to attend to the stones and blood offerings. For many decades, peace was found at Azerinoth, trade routs were built and wealth finally found the city.
But the peace was short lived. The priests, lost in their new-found pride and greed, had declined to make a sacrifice to the old Lords of Blood, thinking foolishly that their faith and aged scrolls would keep away any form of destruction. The masters of the dark were quick to take notice of the absent offering, and quickly sent plagues of disease and death into the city walls.
Desperate to appease the old lords, the people of Azerinoth rushed to the temples, pleading for leniency. The eldest and most powerful, Laron, demanded a gift of flesh as punishment for their pride. A pact was made with the priests of the temple: A young woman of Laron's choosing was to be taken to the very depths of the mountains, into the fire and rock where the old ones resided. She was to remain there as the demon's personal servant, immortal but forbidden to return to the surface. Doing so would bring back the plagues, and no sacrifice or plea would halt the destruction.
In all her few years of service, Sarina had never entertained the idea of the old story actually being true, let alone being the one chosen to serve a demon as old as the mountains themselves. She tried to imagine how the priests could have possibly carried her down into this damned place without her knowing. She remembered eating dinner with her fellow worshipers, recalling that the wine in her goblet had tasted bitter. A small amount of Jimson weed would be enough to put her out for a few hours. More than enough time to carry her into this hell.
The taller of the figures noticed her reaction and laughed, the sound dancing around the room, echoing in her ears. The sound of the shadow's beautiful laughter snapped her back into cold, dank reality .
"It seems my guest does not like the idea of servitude." The figure turned to the smaller shadow. "Malnoch, you may leave. I wish to examine my new prize in peace." She could hear the smile in that beautiful voice, a fact that sent a shiver racing up her spine.
The smaller shadow bowed. "Of course, sire."
The taller shadow stepped into the room as the smaller figure pulled the heavy door shut. The sconces, which had before only flickered softly, now blazed to life, illuminating her and her captor completely.
Standing just inside the room was a massive man, well over six feet tall. His skin was a deep crimson shade, with jet black markings that reminded her of the old-styled script written on the ancient scrolls scrawled over and around his form. Pitch-black wings, almost bat-like in form- stayed folded against his back, quivering in anticipation. Arms as thick as tree boughs and legs like marble columns connected to a solid trunk. Defined muscles in his chest and abdomen drew her eye before her gaze slipped lower. A think cock, well over a foot long and thick as a man's fist, hung between his powerful thighs.
She blushed and quickly searched his form for something to draw her attention. She settled on tracing the striking lines of his face. The face of an angel, with a strong nose, full lips and a defined jaw line. Eyes like liquid silver bored into hers, causing her to look away out of fear of becoming lost in them.
He strode over to where she lay curled up, stopping just inches from her body. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying that her nightmare was really
just
a nightmare.
"So this is the priestess that is to be my servant." He reached down with one massive hand and grasped the chain that bound her wrist, pulling her up off the cold floor. "Let's have a look at you, shall we?" He held her at arm's length. She hung there in his grasp, her feel still chained together. She dropped her gaze and stared at the filthy floor, refusing to make eye contact.
"Hmmm." With a grunt, he raised her higher, looping the chain the bound her wrists over an unseen hook in he ceiling. Letting go, the demon stepped back and admired her nakedness. She bit her lip, holding back tears.
He stepped closer, running his palms and fingers over her bare skin. His skin burned her own, the heat from his fingertips making her heart race. He circled her, speaking aloud his thoughts of her form.
"Tall...A good figure...Hmmm...Long legs for one so young." He leaned forward, his mouth an inch from her ear. "I expect to have those wrapped around me tonight," he whispered.
She shivered.
His hands cupped her breasts, squeezing them. "Small, but well formed." He leaned forward and sniffed her skin. "Clean, at least." He lifted locks of her chestnut hair, stroking the strands between his fingers. He moved around her again, facing her. "Blue eyes. Rare...Good."
He stepped back again. "Not bad for a virgin priestess." He reached up and lifted her, pulling her away from the ceiling and setting her back down on the floor. Her knees buckled and she collapsed from fear and confusion.
The demon knelt on one knee and reached out, cupping her chin in his fingers, forcing her to acknowledge his presence.
"A priestess from an accursed and prideful city, sacrificed by her own people out of guilt for their insubordination. Tell me, what name does their sacrifice carry?"
