The Price of Wrath - Inspection
There were worse ways to be bent over a counter, completely bare-assed, head resting on their arms as a demon poked through their genitals, Elsey supposes.
It helps that he's devastatingly handsome. They can't see him right now, bent over and all, but that actually helps a bit.
It helps less that he's clever, that he's taking notes while mumbling to himself, and also - they wince at the sound of another tap - taking pictures of their cunt for anatomical labeling.
But it does help though. Maybe. Sort of.
It helps them from getting too cold, with their face burning as it is, and it unfortunately helps keep their sex from drying out.
If they had any confidence, any at all, that Satan would so much as bat an eye or show some interest, they'd tell him to put down this new kink in his list of discoveries.
However, his tone is clinical, cool. Not a hint of eroticism or arousal - there's interest, but not in sex.
They swear they can feel his eyes on them. Roaming. Taking in every inch, recording and cataloguing, analyzing every little twitch and curve of sinew and muscle.
It makes them helplessly, embarrassingly, unspeakably wet.
He's looking at them like he's examining an anatomical doll, and nothing has ever turned them on so much in their life.
Fuck. Fuck. He's going to do more stuff like this - is this that big of a kink they haven't known about, or just their crush acting up?
It's impossible to tell what's going on back there, where he's going to touch, what he's looking at - so their whole body soon begins to heat under his gaze, anticipating buzzing just beneath the skin.
And yet the air is still so cool, flesh so vulnerable as Elsey rests in silent submission to his gaze.
Why were they doing this again? No more of that high school bullying,
"The vaginal entrance is significantly more moist..." Satan remarks, and they have to bite their lip as he draws his fingers along their opening.
His touch is just a light trace, almost like the playful tease of a lover... were he not wearing latex gloves.
An extra layer of protection, of cool indifferent silicone instead of warm fingertips. It makes it all the more obvious how easily those gloved hands slide along them, already coated in lubricant.
Elsey counts themself lucky he can't see their face.
"Here are the labia majora..." Yes, that is where his hands are going, "And the inner labia..."
They can feel him, fingering through their folds like he's flipping through sheets of paper in a book.
Maybe he'll lick his fingers, too. It's an effort not to shudder from the trill the thought sends racing down their spine.
"And these should lead up..." The cool latex follows his words, "...into the clitoral hood."
Oh fuck. They try pressing their cheek against the coolness of the table, grounded in the flat chill of sensation.
It doesn't help. A fingertip prods, each touch a heated brush of pleasure sweeping through them, swelling interest pulsing in their cunt.
"Some cursory stimulation doesn't appear to be enough for it to become exposed... I'll test this further later."
Elsey tries not to think hope wish desperately fantasize about when later might be.
"There's some discharge from the vaginal entrance..." Fuck. It's not a suprise but fuck, still.
It's all they can do to clutch at their own arms for any kind of distraction.
"I expected to need some lubricant for this." Their entire face is on fire. "But it looks like that won't be necessary."
He's not talking to them.
Fingers enter them; two at once, probing. They're awkwardly straight and Elsey can't help but clench reflexively against the intrusion.
The unsteady but deep breaths they take to try to calm themselves down feel painfully loud, but Satan doesn't comment, thankfully.
"It seems to be about... hmm..." He spits out a measurement that seems way too large, but they don't know the units, "...deep, but it should be able to stretch much more."
A shudder passes through their cunt. His fingers are long, groping inside them, the smooth touch of him against their walls sending all the more pleasure crawling up their insides.
"This lubricant should accomodate movement, as well..."
Oh, of course he would. Elsey tries, very hard, to strangle the growing excitement in their lower half.
They bury their face in their arms, straight against the desk. It's better not to see anything in the room at all.
But that only leaves them all the more aware of the prodding in their lower half, the poking and frequent pumps that build up a steady heat.
It's... actually kind of nice. But that just means more humiliation if they do actually manage to cum from something like this, but they probably can't.
"In theory, it should be able to accommodate much wider insertions... I'll save that for next time."
The withdrawal is sudden, smooth, and leaves an emptiness where his fingers had just been warming up against them.
Elsey barely holds back a groan, hesitantly raising their head as they look back.
The sight of their own bare ass, sweater pushed up to their waist, and Satan peeling off his gloves as he backs away, sends an inexplicable trickle of anxiety through them.
They're quick to stand up straight, pulling their clothes from a folded pile beside them and tugging everything on -
The underwear immediately feels damp. Slickness licking at the insides of their thighs.
"Next time, I'll bring some tools." Satan says, and he sounds like he's talking to himself, but there's no way they're letting that slide.
"What kind of tools?" He has to at least tell them what he's planning.
(He doesn't.
He has all the power here, and they have none; it's only his curiosity that they can use as leverage over them.
And even then, they want this to continue, probably more than he does...)
Satan looks at them, in the face, for the first time since he'd ordered them to undress, and smiles.
It's not a warm smile, or a comforting one, but it goes all the way to his eyes.
And just like that, their nervous heart begins to flutter, excitement replacing anxiety in a blink.
"Meet me in the broom closet on the second floor two days from now, and you'll find out."
The unattended arousal is already pounding between their legs.
They can't wait.
(So they don't; they touch themselves later, in their room, door carefully locked and blocked over, to the thought of his face, the cool fingers against them that their own hands just can't match, the smooth voice in their ears.
Elsey has it bad. They have it real bad. But it's not like he hates them, and they're going away in a year, anyways, so... what's the harm?)
Every demon that passes them in the hall looks down as they walk by.
No, they can't wait. It's the sweetest bargain they've made so far, and they have two of Satan's more powerful brothers under their command.
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The Price of Wrath
The relationship starts off purely transactional.
A human in the Devildom was bound to get harassed.
It's terrifying, even without the hostility - being kidnapped, trapped in a wholly unnatural world, thrust into classes and a culture unfamiliar.
There isn't a way to fight back, at least not early on.
With only Mammon - a certified slacker - as an appointed guardian, and then a coerced pact, they can't exactly command respect.
Much less convince lesser demons to stop harassing them at school.
Elsey can't even get their housemates to stop threatening to eat them.
Sometimes you have to call it quits.
But not all their housemates are useless.
Satan - the pretty one, the beautiful one, not like Lucifer whose face feels sharp enough to cut with a look or Asmo who looks so polished their eyes water - is helpful.
He's smart. Friendly, personable. Even if it's clear that's not all he is.
It was obvious he was annoyed the first few tutoring sessions but they drank in his every word, sat in rapt attention and asked as many reasonable questions as they could.
Satan liked having his ego stoked, too, especially when Elsey didn't make it obvious that's what they were doing.
He liked being able to explain concepts to an attentive student, to play teacher - master - and show off his knowledge to a suitably impressed audience.
What Elsey didn't realize, was that he had noticed them.
Not their stolen glances at him in class or their light flushes when their bodies touched or brushed in passing.
No.
What Satan noticed was their... humanity, for lack of a better word.
He didn't come in contact with humans too often. The ones he did encounter were witches, sorcerers.
It's not to say that his knowledge about them is lacking - no, if anything, he had too much knowledge.
His curiosity is almost clinical, but as soon as the questions come to him the urge for answers wells up inside him, and they're always right there - across the desk, in the same class, so accessible and willing to help.
Satan is curious about them. Their features are smooth and pretty, but not particularly feminine.
Most humans were born with one of two sets of genitals - which one does Elsey have? What do they look like?
He hasn't seen much of the more delicate parts of humans, hasn't cared to see it. But now the answers are inches away from them.
It's more than a little bit intoxicating. They speak to him as an equal, ask him genuine questions, thank him kindly for his time, but...
In the end, they're a human, and he's a demon. The knowledge that he could rip them apart like so much tissue paper lingers in his awareness.
He's so much more powerful than them they may as well be an inanimate object. They can't hurt him, can't fight him.
They wouldn't even try. They're too smart.
He's the Avatar of Wrath. They'd been warned about him the moment they got here.
And they take him up on every tutoring session, eagerly.
They have to know what he could do. That he could do it.
Perhaps that's what's the most fascinating. Elsey is as engaging and intelligent as any demon he's ever met - more than many of them, he'd even admit - but they're so weak that it all means nothing.
In the Devildom, strength is everything.
And they know this - they have to. He's seen them threatened by his brothers, harassed by lesser demons in the halls.
He's felt their anger. The burning humiliation of being unable to defend themselves, of knowing the best option they have is to shut up and take it.
And they do, because they're too smart not to.
But they're probably not smart enough to not take a deal with a demon. Especially not when he's offering such a good one.
He can get rid of those pesky little demons that harass them. It's no trouble for the Avatar of Wrath.
They just need to help him... satisfy his curiosity.
Elsey knows a dangerous bargain when they hear one, of course.
It's obvious he doesn't know about their crush. That he doesn't have any underlying motivations, either (even if they squint really really hard, they can't quite convince themselves of it).
But it's so fucking frustrating. Being tripped, shoved, spat at, insulted.
And Satan is the vision of their personal avenging angel; electric green eyes, bright golden hair, a smile like a knife and an aura of danger wherever he goes, lurking just beneath the surface.
There's a thrill to knowing something like that is going to be staring down their tormenters.
That anyone who does toy with them will be facing the incarnation of wrath himself.
But the real thrill that consumes them is the one in his eyes - hungry, all-consuming... even if it's not in the way they want it to be.
Even if he's just curious.
And fuck, he's hot, he's asking, and every part of their body wants him already.
So there was only really ever one answer.
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