To Reign in Hell
Copyright© 2015 by Mark Gander
Horror Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Our narrator finds out that he is actually Asmodeus, Prince of the Succubi, and has just been chosen as Satan's successor as King of Hell. He uses the chance to claim his girlfriend's soul in the bargain.
Caution: This Horror Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Ma/Ma Mult Consensual Magic NonConsensual Rape Gay BiSexual Heterosexual Extra Sensory Perception Paranormal Cheating Slut Wife Sharing BDSM DomSub MaleDom FemaleDom Rough Snuff Spanking Torture Gang Bang Group Sex Harem Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory Swinging White Male White Female Hispanic Male White Couple Anal Sex Analingus Cream Pie Exhibitionism Masturbation Oral Sex Pregnancy Voyeurism Nudism
I felt an incredible pain all over my body as I awoke, thinking to myself that this was the hangover from Hell. I didn't know just how accurate that statement was, however, until I noticed the heat all around me and smelled the Sulphur smell ... and then heard the screams of agony from everywhere, in every direction. I looked around and saw people being tortured, left and right, for all directions as far as the eye could see, but then it became pitch-black, as if I were allowed a brief glimpse before going blind.
Then I felt scratches on my body, all over my flesh, as claws grabbed me and tried to rip me apart, before I thought that I wanted them off me, and a strong, hot wind just blew them away. The odd thing was that I wasn't even slightly terrified, that entire time, just annoyed, and whatever the fiends had in mind, they were enough frightened of me to back off. Then I noticed that a light seemed to emanate from my body, reaching the farthest, darkest caves of what was obviously Hell. There was no doubt in mind as to that now. I was in Hell, but I didn't begin to understand why.
"Excuse me, Lord, but perhaps we can get going now? I know that this is all new to you, seeing as you were just on Earth, but we're on a tight schedule, and with the Master dead and gone ... we badly need a new Prince," a demonic voice addressed me out of the blue ... or was that the pitch-black.
"Lord? I thought that I was one of the damned for a moment," I reacted.
"You are, Sir, but so is anyone in Hell ... but there are the Damned and then there are us ... you know, the Devils," the voice explained, as if reminding me of something that I already knew, and had somehow forgotten.
"I'm a Devil? I thought that I was mortal. Five minutes ago, I was just having a drunken argument with Becky. Now I'm in Hell and being told that I'm not really human. What a weird-ass day!" I laughed, my voice sounding more malevolently than expected.
"Oh ... yeah, that. Look, Master, I'll explain as we get there, but we ready need to get moving, Sir," the demon continued as we kept moving.
"Okay, but where are we heading?" I demanded.
"Sorry, but I forget that you've been living as a human for so long that this is kind of confusing to you. Look, Boss, it's simple ... you're going to be crowned the new Prince of Darkness, Master of all Evil, and Lord of Hell. Our new King, here in the Outer Darkness of perdition, if you will. We're headed for the Infernal Palace, Sire, for your coronation and enthronement," the demon hurried me along.
"So, how did I land this job?" I naturally inquired as we got closer, the screams of the tormented still piercing my ears.
"You're kidding, right, Lord Asmodeus? Your exile ... banishment to Earth is over. With Satan gone, someone had to fill in. The Council of All Hell decided upon you, even if that means that they have some sucking up to do, given how much Lilith and the others kind of kicked you when you were up, so to speak. Look, they're groveling, but it was really necessary. It would have been civil war here in Hell if Lilith and Azrael had tried to seize power. They've both been so far up Lucifer's ass that both of them have equally good connections and strong factions, but your very absence from Hell meant that you don't belong to a faction and only you can unite Hell behind you. All of Hell's Host respects you as the one Devil who never kissed up to even Satan, of course," the fiend assured me as I reached the Palace.
"Well, we were all angels once, right? If I didn't kiss up to Jehovah, or His Son, why would I suck up to Lucifer?" I thought about it logically.
"Yeah, that's so you, Lord. Pretty much how you've always been. Except when you're boning a bitch, you're always level-headed. Then you turn into an animal, of course," the demon laughed, as did I.
"I was expelled from Heaven AND Hell, you say? Wow, I really made enemies, didn't I? What exactly happened to Satan, anyway?" I naturally inquired.
"Oh, that ... yeah, he kinda got a bit big for his hooves and decided to start the Apocalypse a little early. Well, his version definitely took Jehovah and Jesus by surprise, but he went off half-cocked and much of Hell didn't even know his plans when he turned all lone wolf on us. On the other hand, he did us all a favor, in that now Jehovah's dead and Jesus is fading fast, trying to recover in a hurry.
"I don't think that he's gonna make it, though. The Crucifixion wounds reopened with a vengeance and that means human blood tarnishing His celestial body. That's poison to God, you know, and apparently to His Son, too, since it bears the taint of sin. Satan figured out God's secret weakness and groped the sweetest seraphim in front of him to choke him with the sight and presence of sin.
"Looks like Michael's all set to take over there. Poor dumb jock. He's tough, but never was as bright as Lucifer, in more ways than one. He'll need to listen to Gabriel a bit, I suspect. Maybe a little of Raphael, too, if the guy isn't too busy staring at nudes. Someone's gotta tell that romantic fool someday that real women aren't statues," the fiend rambled on as we finally reached the throne room, where the Council awaited me, still in their chairs, to my chagrin ... maybe I had surprised them and caught them off-guard.
Taking a line from the 1970 British movie Cromwell, which I oddly enjoyed, despite my hatred of Jehovah and all that He represented, I quoted Alec Guinness as King Charles I, "Will you not rise, sirs, when your King approaches? Rise, sirs, or to your knees in shame!"
Okay, so I paraphrased slightly to make it plural, but I still used Sir Alec's Scottish brogue in my voice. In any case, it did the trick, being arrogant enough to convince them of my deadly seriousness. They all rose, and then fell to their knees, as the force of my mind sent them crashing to the floor. I suppose that they had forgotten just how powerful of a Devil I really was. They all looked up to me with dread and awe, visibly trembling in their hooves. If this weren't Hell, I would even say that they were shivering.
"Get up. We have work to do. Where's my fucking crown?" I demanded.
Azrael snatched it from its place and I sat on the throne, at which point I grabbed it and placed it on my own head ... very Napoleonic of me, of course ... I always did admire the Little Corporal from Corsica, even if I thought that he should have burnt the Vatican instead of making a Concordat with it. Can you blame me? I'm the new King of Devils! Do you think that I should admire the fucking hypocrites in their miters and crosiers? Not my style, buddy! I rebelled against that old crackpot Jehovah and His stupid plan aeons ago, being particularly offended that he wanted to use evolution, but then tell a fucking lie in a book about a talking snake and a poisonous fruit as an origin myth. What, can't trust Your Creation with the truth, Jehovah?
Anyway, once I was done with that, I pulled Lilith up and turned her over my knee, much to her shock. I began spanking her red buttocks a good while, making her howl with both pleasure and pain. I had just recalled that Lilith was something of a pain slut ... she loved it rough, but this was about making her my bitch, and she knew it. She knew that after this, none of her faction would ever respect her enough to follow her, in case she reneged on her allegiance to me. Azrael smirked as he watched us, but he really shouldn't have. I was going to make a very different example out of him. Just as Lilith was now under my control, so would Azrael be, once I put him in his place, too. No one would use me as a puppet or figurehead. I would either be King of Hell or I wouldn't, and I was already determined to use that power now that it was mine, complete with the Scepter of Three and the Ring of Belial. Yes, my demonic memory had indeed fully returned to me.
I seized Azrael by the throat when I was done with Lilith, but I didn't use my hands. I let my demonic wings unfold as I arose from my throne, my body reaching its full height and infernal majesty. It was patently obvious that I knew it all now and that I wouldn't tolerate any further defiance or insolence from my long-time confederates down in Hell. I had come a long way back from being a mere mortal on Earth, dating a real prize of a girlfriend, hadn't I? Becky was the furthest thing from my mind right then. That was when I thought of the perfect punishment for him ... to be stuck in a mortal body, just as I had been ... so what was what I did.
I watched with more than a little humor as Azrael landed in a mortal body, no, not mine ... I had too much fun with that one. No, he landed in the body of Mr. Fiske, who had just been caught jerking off by a real cunt of a wife. Mrs. Fiske could never grasp that men had needs, and actually had the nerve to forbid her husband from taking care of his blue balls, to add insult to the injury of refusing to sleep with him at all. She scolded him like crazy, that batty 49 year old, for daring to act on perfectly healthy urges. Somehow, I seriously doubted that they would live happily ever after.
"Martin, how many times have I told you not to make those messes in this house again! That's only for making children and after that, that disgusting thing needs to be kept in your pants except to pee! No excuses! Next time that I catch you doing this, I'll leave you, sick pervert!" she wailed on him with a cast-iron skillet, not that she ever bothered to cook with it.
I chuckled, knowing my Azrael ... the poor woman would never get out of that marriage ... and that house alive ... physically abusing a destroyer demon could be terrible for anyone's health, even if he forgot what he was. I nearly fell over in my diabolical throne, laughing, when Azrael was dragging away to jail in handcuffs and Mrs. Fiske's wicked, horrible soul left her lifeless body to land right in front of me ... oh, this would be so much fun!
"Oh, hi, there! We've been expecting you. What, you actually hoped for Heaven? Well, to quote what you once told hubby, life's not fair. Your turn to suffer. Guess you should have been a nicer wife ... probably should have given a bit more to the poor and voted a bit more compassionately, too. Maybe judged less and gossiped a bit less as well. Kicking your hubby's dog and denying the guy sex just to control him, even keeping him from masturbating, when that's bad for the prostate to be chaste, that's pretty cold. Hitting him often with a cast-iron skillet and slapping his face, too. To think that man would have walked on fire for you ... yeah, you're a real saint. Ratting out that poor gay deacon, too, and that lesbian schoolteacher. Too late now, though. Oh, where are my manners?
"WELCOME TO HELL!"
What, expected sympathy for the abusive wife instead of the battered husband? I'm the fucking Lord of Hell and I can empathize with whomever I please, bitches! Now, where is a good cast-iron skillet where one needs it? Mrs. Fiske is in need of that, and a nice, big dog to hurt her for a change...