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The comforts of home were long gone. Prometheus may have been raised in a noble household, but now the peach-skinned tiefling had lived life on the run for quite a few months. Anything to avoid their family’s plans for them.
Prometheus’s parents were demon-worshippers, a fact they’d somehow kept secret despite the fact that the two of them, both humans, had born a demon-blooded tiefling child. They had plans to unite their house with the hells, and Prometheus had only recently learned that their parents had secretly arranged a betrothal between their child and a demon.
But not just any demon. The demon lord, Yeenoghu.
The thought of the Beast of Butchery’s slavering maw, his barbed and skull-tipped flail… oh, it was hideous to consider. And while the tiefling had not yet actually seen Yeenoghu face to face, they’d overheard a cultist speaking to their parents that the gnoll lord had every intention of using his consort-to-be to deliver legions of demonic spawn.
The nightmarish image of Yeenoghu had been coupled, then, with that of an imposing barbed cock and of Prometheus themself, clutching their swollen and teeming stomach in dismay. They would never consent to be a demon’s breeder. They’d fled that very night.
The hells didn’t let their prey go that easily, however. The cult of Yeenoghu had hounded Prometheus’s steps all the while, and they had help from Prometheus’s own family. They had every intent of currying the demon lord’s favor.
But though it’d been months, Prometheus had stayed one step ahead… for now.
It would have to be enough.
The city of Greyport lived up to its name; the skies seemed perpetually gloomy and overcast. It was raining; it had rained for at least an hour on each of the last thirteen days. Prometheus pulled their shawl closer around their body, huddling beneath a derelict awning in an alleyway in a futile attempt to stay dry and warm.
“Hey, newbie.”
Prometheus’s tail swayed behind them. The dregs and lowlifes of Greyport had accepted their incursion into this territory, but Prometheus would always be an outsider—not the least because of the obvious demonic heritage showcased in the twisting horns rising from their scalp or their clawed hands, hooved feet, and black sclera. They couldn’t control the circumstances of their birth that had touched them with demonic influence, but few others cared. Tieflings like Prometheus were viewed with suspicion even by other outcasts.
Still, better suspicion than a forced marriage.
“Ah, it’s you,” Prometheus said, rising with a grunt. The person speaking was a few years older than them, a scarred half-elf who ran a gang of petty thieves. “You need me for something? It’s a grey day, but I don’t have anything else to do.” They did their best to seem well-spoken and put-together. After all, that could be the difference between befriending potential helpers or not.
“You said you’d pay anyone to keep an eye out for people asking for you? Well, some nobles have arrived in town and are doing just that.”
Prometheus swore. Their parents were here? Damn, they moved fast. They couldn’t afford to let their family ship them off to be forcibly wed and bred. “When? Where?”
The half-elf just raised his eyebrows and held out a hand. “Ah… right,” Prometheus said. They fished out a few coins and placed them in his waiting palm. He seemed unimpressed, but withdrew nonetheless.
“Late last night. They’ve been meeting with the magistrate, or so I hear. Word says that they’re laying down coin to get the city guard out looking for you in force. I dunno how you pissed these people off, but they want you bad.”
Well, shit. That just guaranteed that Prometheus needed to leave soon. “…thanks. Well, guess it’s time to go.” They rolled their shoulders, ignoring the pouring rain. “I suppose you’ll be happy to see me off.”
“Hey.” The half-elf’s words stopped Prometheus as they walked away. The echo of their clipping hoofbeats was dulled by the rain. “I know people who are good at helping others hide, for a price. Rates are reasonable.”
Prometheus turned. “Why are you helping me?”
The elf shrugged. “I get a finder’s fee if I direct folk to ‘em. Plus, fuck the nobles, am I right?”
Prometheus wasn’t sure, but the tiefling decided that beggars could hardly be choosers. “Alright. Take me, then.”
---
The half-elf’s contact was in a shabby two-story building off the local pier. Prometheus stepped inside with him at their heels. “Alright, where’s your contact?”
“About that…”
Before Prometheus could react, a sudden portal opened, showcasing a gothic, alien landscape on the other side. A wave of heat and the scent of brimstone assaulted them through the portal. Magic shackles, manifesting from sickly green light, slung through the portal and clasped around their wrists and their hooves, and a larger, matching collar clanged around their neck.
Fear spiked through the tiefling as they struggled helplessly against their bindings. “What—wait! No, NO! Fuck!”
“Holy shit,” the half-elf muttered, stepping back and pushing his back against the building’s wall. He seemed intimidated by what he was seeing. “It’s true. Real abyssal shit…”
A heavy coinpurse brimming with gold and silver marks—some stamped with the sigils of an empire long since fallen—manifested from that same sickly light. As the half-elf scooped it up greedily, a sultry, musical voice drifted through the portal, addressing him:
“For your assistance, my lovely.”
The chains lurched and began yanking Prometheus through the portal; as they struggled, the tiefling turned and fixed a murderous gaze on their fellow outcast. “You bastard! When I get out of here I’ll kill you, d’you hear me? I’LL KILL YOU!”
The elf just backed away towards the door, holding the coinpurse to his body like a mother would hold a suckling babe, and as soon as Prometheus was yanked through the portal, it vwoiped shut, cutting him out of their life forever.
---
The place where Prometheus found themself was a demonic palace of some sort, a hellish mockery of the type of architecture that would serve as a cathedral or a ducal estate in the world above. The walls alternated between smokey grey marble, rich dark wood, and wrought black metal, and fine yet sinister accoutrements ranging from portraits of tyrants and murderers to candelabras of the same black metal to fine furniture whose legs and armrests were carved to look like mortals howling in agony and despair. The air pulsed with heat, like a hot wind blowing off a desert, and smelled of brimstone. The faint wail of tormented mortals echoed from far away. Yes, there was no doubt; Prometheus had been suckered into hell.
And yet, the entire place struck them as a bit… posh for Yeenoghu. Yes, he was a demon lord, but he was known as the Beast of Butchery. He was not a creature of taste, or so Prometheus understood. He was a hulking, wretched monster. Could this really be his demesne? If not, then who belonged here?
Prometheus didn’t have long to wait. Before long, a door opened and a woman walked in.
She was tall and stately; she was easily foot taller than a normal human man. Her skin was chalk-white and uniformly blemishless and her fingers tipped with gently pointed claws. Small goatlike horns rose from her temple, framed by raven-black hair that was swept back in an elegant bun. The sclerae of her eyes were black and her irises were iridescent green. When she smiled, faint fangs—smaller and less noticeable than Prometheus’s own—were visible. She had no need for shoes; her feet were hooved, like those of a deer.
Prometheus knew exactly what they were looking at; no tiefling spent time in the public without having accusations of this type of creature in their family tree slung at them. “Succubus,” they growled.
The fiend stopped and smiled. Her lips were full and red. “Oh dear, why such vitriol? ‘Tis true, I am a succubus, but I can no more help my nature than you can change your own, tiefling.” She reached out a hand to gently cup Prometheus’s chin; the captive tiefling tried to pull away, but the collar around their neck held them fast. “One might expect gratitude,” the succubus continued.
“Gratitude?” Prometheus spat. Their heart hammered. This was finally it; they were going to be given to that hideous monster, Yeenoghu. After months of running, it was over. “Big talk for someone with shackles around me!” The manacles clanked as they struggled against them. “Let me out, witch!”
“Tch-tch-tch,” the succubus said, “be that any way to speak to your host? Surely you understand the manacles are for my protection and yours. My protection since you would lash out before understanding how safe you are, poor thing, and yours as you’d doubtless expose yourself to capture from true wickedness in a foolish attempt at ‘escape’.”
“I don’t need you to talk down to me,” Prometheus growled. “If you’re going to sell me to Yeenoghu, just be done with it already.”
The succubus laughed as if at her own private joke. “And here it is! ‘Tis exactly the misapprehension I was worried about, my lovely. I’ve no love for the gnoll lord, nor any desire to yield you to his grasp. Do you know his men and those of your parents were hot on your trail? You’d only a day or two remaining before being shipped off to him. I saved you, little one.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Your mistrust is as understandable as it is misplaced.” The succubus raised her hand and the chains holding Prometheus were suddenly yanked as if hoisted by a set of invisible hands. Grunting, the captive tiefling had no choice but to rise with them. “I’ve prepared a lovely little chamber for you, pet. I hope you enjoy it. Lady Elarna’s hospitality is famed across the hells, after all.” She turned as if occupied by something else as Prometheus was led away.
---
The moment Prometheus was in their new room, the chains around them shifted, melting as if molten, though there was no heat. Their leg manacles vanished entirely, and their hands were held securely behind the small of their back. The collar remained, but a long, almost beautiful silvery chain connected to a metal spike in the wall. The chain was slack and loose and easily gave them leave to explore the entirety of the room at their leisure.
The room was palatial in a way to have rivaled anything in their parents’ old estate; spacious enough to dwarf a poor man’s common room, it boasted an elaborate four-poster desk, an expertly carved writing desk with a plush chair, and statues of wicked, graceful fiends carved from resilient dark crystal. Large windows gave views of the hells outside, though sturdy crisscrossed bars of that same mysterious black metal barred escape.
Prometheus stalked around the chamber, heart still racing. Lady Elarna? They’d never heard of that name before; this fiend didn’t seem to be part of the cult their parents served. But only a fool took a fiend at its word. They paced around the chamber, inspecting it for weakness or avenues of escape, but Elarna had clearly done her work beforehand. There was not so much as a half-inch chink in the walls or bars. Prometheus would be hard-pressed to escape even without the bindings around their hands and neck; with them, they were as good as trapped.
The tiefling was more than a little frightened, but resolved not to let themself be ruled by this fear. They would escape. They would!
After further inspecting the room for a solid half-hour, Prometheus finally decided it was folly, at least for the time being. Reluctantly, they settled on the four-poster bed. It was lush, with a beautifully woven silk canopy; after months of sleeping on the streets and in alleys, finding comfort once again was downright intoxicating. Against their better judgment, Prometheus found themselves lulled to a deep, dreamless sleep…
---
When they awoke, they were sleeping on their side. Despite the collar and manacles still around their neck and wrists, they were more comfortable than they’d been in ages. They luxuriated in that drunken feeling of half-sleep, half-wakefulness for a few moments until they registered something.
Someone was pressing against their back. Their back—they were somehow completely nude despite still being shackled. It was a deep, intimate warmth. They could feel a hot, humid breath against the crook of their neck, and long arms wrapped sinuously around their torso, right underneath their breasts.
No. No!
With a desperate cry, Prometheus tried to pull away, but Elarna’s grip (for who else could it be?) was far too iron to escape so easily. Prometheus was astonished at how powerful the succubus was.
“What are you—doing—” Prometheus growled. They tried swinging their head back to smash their horns against their captor, but Elarna almost effortlessly stopped their movements.
“Sweet thing, why so troubled?” Elarna said. “All I seek is to comfort you.” As she spoke, her breath kissed Prometheus’s neck in hot staccato bursts, and her long tail coiled with an intimate sinuousness around Prometheus’s thigh. The motion made Prometheus shiver—partly from unwanted tactile feedback, and partly because they dreaded what might come next.
Elarna leaned in, brushing kisses along their shoulder. Her lips were fat and full, and Prometheus’s skin tingled for a few seconds after they left.
“Come now, little one.” One of the succubus’s hands snaked down to the cleft between Prometheus’s legs. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy this—”
“Don’t fucking touch me!”
Prometheus’s voice was sharp, sharper than they’d even known they were capable of, and Elarna immediately withdrew in one smooth motion. She acted neither chastised nor surprised; it was a simple acknowledgement of a command received. “Very well, my pet.”
As she peeled off the bed, Prometheus rose shakily, hardly believing that their outburst had worked. “Wh-what?”
“Oh my darling little hellborn, I wish only for you to be comfortable,” Elarna said with a patient, almost motherly air. She was completely nude and had the sort of figure that mortals could start wars over. Prometheus forced themself to look her in the eye. They wouldn’t back down or show subservience. “I shall, of course, not force anything upon you that you do not desire—excepting, of course, measures for your own good.” She inclined her head just an inch, still smiling. “Whatever you wish, it shall be done… within reason. I am nothing if not an accommodating host.”
Prometheus’s mouth felt dry. Okay then, time to test that. “I want to be free.”
“And you are,” she said soothingly. “Free from the reach of that brutish gnoll lord and your ungrateful parents. So long as you are here, you need fear nothing from them. Indeed, nothing from anyone.”
Damn. Perhaps time to take a different tactic. “I… I want to leave this place.”
Immediately, Elarna’s face fell in a show of contrition. “Ah, but to where would you slink away? The hells are full of disgusting creatures that would slay you or worse, and the mortal realm crawls with Yeenoghu’s servants. No, ‘tis for your own good that you stay here.”
“That’s not for you to decide!”
“I think you’ll find,” Elarna said softly, “that it is.”
Prometheus’s will wavered and they glanced aside, breaking eye contact. Something about this demon made it hard to challenge her. It was a flavor of quiet intimidation they had never experienced before. “Could I… get these shackles off?” they asked.
“Hmm! Now that might be doable. Of course, those are on there for my protection, not your own. After all, you’ve given me every reason to believe you might lash out in errant anger.”
“I… I promise not to strike you.”
Elarna smiled. “How encouraging! You are making good progress, little one. Of course, plenty of hellspawn can lie. For some of us, it is almost second nature. I think I shall keep an eye on you for the next little while… but if you earn the right to have them off, why, you shall!”
She left, hooves clopping against the polished marble floor, as Prometheus quivered in bed. The manacles and collar were still tight around them, and they had no idea how long it would take to get them removed.
Just play along for now, they thought. Once you have more mobility, you can pursue your freedom.
Right. Small steps. First, they had to get these damnable accoutrements off.
---
Over the next few days, Prometheus slowly settled into their new life down in the hellish estate. Elarna kept them locked in their room most of the time, though she had servant imps bring them food and reading material with which to entertain themself. Multiple times a day, she led Prometheus out of their room for a tour of the estate, showing off such bountiful and marvelous sights; a menagerie of rare beasts from the mortal realm, a greenhouse with living, fiendish plants that seemed more dangerous than a sellsword, a portrait gallery of fine art. Prometheus had to admit, it was an impressive estate. It was hard not to feel chastened by such displays.
Of course, there were other feelings too. The humiliation, for one, of being led along on a silvered leash connected to their collar as if they were some manner of trophy. That’s what she thinks of you, Prometheus thought, reminding themself of their situation as Elarna called them her ‘little pet.’ But people underestimate pets. You can use this.
No matter how dire things seemed, they had to stay positive and look on the bright side. It was the only way.
Eventually Prometheus took to eating their evening meal with Elarna. Their hands were still bound, and so the succubus had small imps cut their food and fly it up to their mouth as if they were a helpless baby bird. Prometheus chafed at the humiliation.
Finally, they could bear it no longer. One night, when they sat down to partake of a sumptuous feast, they spoke: “I don’t want these things to feed me anymore. Haven’t I proven my trustworthiness? I promise not to harm you. So take them off.”
Elarna raised one eyebrow wordlessly, clearly waiting for something, and after a moment, Prometheus looked down and added the extra phrase. “…please.”
Though Prometheus’s head was turned away, they could all but see Elarna’s pleased smile. She waved her hand and the manacles holding Prometheus’s wrists behind their back wisped into dark vapor. Sighing with relief, the tiefling brought their wrists in front of them and rubbed them, almost disbelieving they were finally free.
Except… it was only partial. The collar still remained, complete with its silver chain, and something told Prometheus that their host would never remove it.
Before them was a sizzling steak and a sharp knife to cut it. Prometheus picked it up with trembling hands. For a moment, they envisioned themself lunging at Elarna, point angled right towards the fiend’s heart.
Across the table, Elarna rested her chin on crossed fingers, a small smile plastered on her face. She never blinked.
Telling themself that a small knife such as this would hardly do well against a powerful demon, Elarna took the blade to their steak instead.
“Very good,” their mistress purred. Prometheus quietly cut the steak into strips, eating each one. They tried to savor the taste of the meat, and not to focus on the feeling. Despite finally having engineered the absence of their manacles, the night still tasted of failure.
---
That night—or what passed for night in the hells—Mistress Elarna again invited herself to Prometheus’s bed. The tiefling was woken by soft hands coursing over their flesh. They could feel her warm body pressing against their back.
“‘Tis something to rejoice,” Mistress Elarna whispered. Her voice was like melted fudge, soft and rich and succulent. Her fingertips kneaded softly against the flesh of Prometheus’s arms and shoulders, massaging away aches and pains they’d long since internalized. “Being free of those awful shackles. I’m so happy you’ve come to accept your mistress’s comfort. Don’t worry, little pet, I will protect you. For ever and always…”
She slowly wrapped her hands around Prometheus’s body, using one to cup their breasts while the other slowly snaked towards their cleft. The tiefling tensed, trying desperately to control their breath and deny the sound of a pleasured moan leaving their lips as Mistress Elarna cupped and rolled their breast in her hands. They’d never quite felt pleasure like this before; it was as if she had a sixth sense for figuring out just how to provoke sexual joy.
But then, she was a succubus after all…
“I hear Yeenoghu is furious for your absence,” she whispered, taking the lobe of Prometheus’s ear in her teeth. “He cannot fathom what became of you. Oh, my pet, he has such awful things planned when he gets hold of you… that terrible, vicious brute. But worry not. You’re safe here, my sweet. So long as you stay with me, you will ever be safe.” She nibbled Prometheus’s ear again. Her hand squeezed tight around their breast and the other found their cleft; she began idly, almost lazily playing with their clitoris, sending a spark and a thrill through their body. Oh gods, they ached for this… they were needful and wanting. They knew, intrinsically, that to surrender to her would be to feel the most rapturous sexual bliss of their life. Their body felt tight, like a wound-up spring waiting for release.
“Yes, no need to fear.” The succubus’s words were hot on Prometheus’s ear. “A better emotion waits for you instead. Surrender… rapture… bliss…” Her hand snaked ever lower…
Finally, Prometheus found their voice. They managed to stumble the words out. “Stop touching me… please. P-Please stop touching me.”
There was a moment’s beat, a moment in which Prometheus feared that Mistress Elarna would push forward regardless, but then she withdrew. “I only ever wish for your comfort,” she said softly. Turning, she withdrew from the chamber. “Sleep well, my darling pet.”
Even when Mistress Elarna was gone, Prometheus’s heart refused to quiet and their body did not loosen. Finally, hardly believing what they were doing, they dipped their own hand between their legs, furiously rubbing and fingering and flicking, all while closing their eyes and thinking of Mistress Elarna. When orgasm finally came, it was simultaneously a release and a cage as Prometheus curled against themself, sobbing, feeling somehow that they’d put on a binding even more decisive than the collar which still sat about their neck.
---
The next few days were spent as if in a haze. Prometheus was still paraded about on their silver chain and the collar, and they realized that the collar now felt like part of them. They struggled to imagine what it would feel like to have it removed.
Mistress Elarna was ever the kind and attentive hostess, and she fawned over her new ‘guest,’ not only treating Prometheus to sumptuous feasts but also giving them leave to visit her personal spa. The chamber was attended by imps and lesser fiends who fanned Prometheus with enormous leaves while scrubbing their body with lavender-scented soaps and oils. There was a sauna as well, where Prometheus could cleanse themself through heat and sweat.
The spa did not wholly give Prometheus feelings of comfort and security, however. There were larger windows—though still securely barred—that opened to the realm beyond. Occasionally, hideous roars and shrieks from outside pitched into Mistress Elarna’s estate. Though the imps and the mistress herself paid these sounds no heed, Prometheus shuddered at them. They were a grim reminder that no matter how lovely this estate, they were still in hell.
And yet, the estate was secure. Safe, even. Prometheus increasingly found themself finding it feeling, if not quite like home, then at least like a refuge. They couldn’t say for sure whether the bestial roars from outside were Yeenoghu or his ilk, but in the depths of their fear, alone in their bedroom, they imagined they were.
Gods above, what would Yeenoghu do to them? What cruelties and viciousness could be spawned from the wicked imaginings of a demon lord? Prometheus imagined being flayed alive and being healed up only to undergo it again. They imagined being bound in spiked chains and given to the demon’s lustful followers—and then passed around to base beasts after that, sobbing and moaning as they were taken by slavering creatures.
And these were far from the worst things that Prometheus could imagine.
Perhaps… perhaps Mistress Elarna was right. Perhaps it was better to be here, safe and secure and tucked away from such cruelty. After all, even should they escape, they had no way to return to the material plane—and the cultists still stalked the land, hunting them. Perhaps it was for the best.
No, you mustn’t, Prometheus chided themself when they realized such thoughts were creeping in. You mustn’t give up. You don’t belong to her. You can escape and live your own life…
But such resolve was growing less and less common, and it seemed like false hope when it did. Hope was frail, but a silver chain was hard to break. Comfortable in its security.
---
Mistress Elarna was a shapeshifter, as it turned out. Prometheus didn’t know why the revelation surprised them. After all, succubi and incubi were always said to be the same creature, just manifested in different ways. Mistress Elarna’s preferred, ‘default’ form was the one she paraded about in most instances—the tall, hooved, stately humanesque woman. But there were others.
One afternoon, as Prometheus emerged from their room (they now had open rein to explore the estate, save the mistress’s chambers, unless specifically confined to their own when other guests were present) they saw to their astonishment that Mistress Elarna had returned from a meeting with another important fiend.
Except this was not the mistress as they knew her. This was a tall, sculpted man with a bodybuilder’s physique and a smattering of five-o-clock shadow on his face. His lower body was hooved, but bulkier, with coarse dark brown fur climbing all the way to his navel, like the lower body of a satyr. A hefty, uncut cock hung between his legs; it was of a size that would have made any man envious. Still, it was obvious to Prometheus that this was Mistress Elarna; from the bearing, of course, but the small horns topping the handsome stranger’s crown and the eerie eyes were the same.
“Oh!” Mistress Elarna said, his voice musical. “My lovely little pet! Apologies you had to see me in such a crude form. I don’t prefer it, but an important client wished to be the recipient, not the giver, you understand.” Slowly she began to morph back into the form with which Prometheus was familiar; her face softened, her upper body lost its musculature to regain her exotic curves. The hair on her face and limbs and lower body slowly fell away, and her hooved legs grew slim and slender. All that remained was the hefty, noticeable cock.
“Though this was fun,” the succubus mused, reaching down and squeezing her shaft with one pale-skinned palm. The member throbbed obligingly, stiffening. “Perhaps I ought to keep it for a few days, what think you?”
Prometheus was at a loss for words; they could only stare, fixated, on it.
---
That night, she came to Prometheus’s bed again. She murmured sweet nothings into the tiefling’s freckled shoulders, idly playing with locks of hair as she traced kisses down their neck. Prometheus tried to avoid shuddering; they didn’t want to feel pleasure from this, no less to show their captor they were beholden to said pleasure.
And yet, they couldn’t help it. Just as the collar around their neck had come to feel like a part of them, and just as the lush four-poster bed had come to feel comfortable and secure, so did Mistress Elarna’s touch feel right to Prometheus. They tried to avoid thinking of her that way; after all, she was their captor. She’d abducted them. And yet, she kept them comfortable… kept them safe… had never harmed them. And truly, wouldn’t they love to repay their mistress? Wouldn’t it be a beautiful gesture?
As she always did when inviting herself to Prometheus’s bed, Mistress Elarna gradually dialed up her attentions. She nibbled at Prometheus’s shoulder and swept her hands over their body, strumming her fingernails across their stomach with one hand while cupping and squeezing their breast with the other. Prometheus moaned, unable to stifle it, and Mistress Elarna chuckled behind them.
“Oh, my little pet likes it?” she purred. “How delicious…”
Something hard and firm pressed against Prometheus’s body; the mistress’s cock, of course. She still had one from earlier today. It was growing erect with arousal and Mistress Elarna began hoisting her hips back and forth, slowly nudging her shaft between Prometheus’s thighs. Her thick cock slid teasingly along the bottom of Prometheus’s pussy, and the sensation sent pleasure and anticipation shivering through their body.
I should stop this, part of Prometheus realized. Their inner voice had grown weak and quiet recently. It was a labor to speak up at all. This could be dangerous. She always listens to me… if I speak up, she’ll stop. I just need to speak up… I just…
But they did not speak up—and as the predictable happened, that voice slowly whimpered and died.
The sensation of the demon pushing into them was sudden and fierce, and Prometheus’s whole body tensed as they suddenly played host to succubus cock. A submissive, mewling sound scraped out of their mouth as their body first tensed and then shivered from the sensation. The ache of spreading apart left them feeling weak; they could feel Mistress’s cock as an intense heat within their body, radiating in irregular tempo to their heartbeat.
“Shhhh,” Mistress said, gently stroking their neck with the back of one finger. “Ohhh, my sweet, shhh, it’s okay, I’m here.” She kissed Prometheus’s shoulder even as she rolled her hips; the motion brought her cock an inch or two down only to press back inside. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”
“It… h-hurts, Mistress…”
“Ohhh, it always does at first, but what about the pleasure? There is pleasure, hmm?” She rubbed one finger against Prometheus’s sensitive clit before slowly tracing the trail of hair that connected their pubic area to their navel. “I know you like it, sweet thing, I can feel your body singing.”
Clutching Prometheus tight to her, Mistress slid out before bucking in even harder. The motion made Prometheus’s body rock and they cooed again. Ohh, the way she invaded them was aching, and yet… she told the truth. It was enjoyable—no, more than that, it was sublime. As the hurt slowly waned, more and more pleasure sprouted to take its place. Prometheus rolled their hips to try and slip even more of Mistress into them, provoking a pleased and amused laugh from the succubus, and they clenched tight, squeezing her cock with all the ferocity they could muster.
The act provoked a squeal of delight from Mistress, and she waved her hand. The chain connecting Prometheus’s collar to the wall suddenly vanished, replaced by a much shorter chain leash in that rested in her hand. Mistress rose and yanked the chain as she did, pulling Prometheus with her. The tiefling’s breath caught and they babbled something wordless from her attention.
“Ohh, you’ve made me a very happy woman, my pet,” she said, brushing a kiss onto their forehead. She punctuated the act with an especially significant thrust that made Prometheus squeal. “Look at you, so lovely in your collar and your pretty silver chain. You know, your mistress has many clients, but no real lovers—except you, pet.” She thrust in again, even harder; Prometheus’s body burned with delight as they took all she had to give. “Except you.”
Prometheus’s heart soared. Mistress… loved them? They felt honored—beautiful—special. “Th-thank you Mistress,” they choked out worshipfully. “Thank you ever so much. I—nnff—w-want to show my gratitude and, haah, d-dedication…”
If the succubus was put off by their plaything’s moans and stutters, she didn’t show it. In fact, she seemed even more amused. “Is this not lovely, pet?” She thrust in at the same moment she yanked back on their chain, leaving Prometheus’s body curved like a soft crescent. The tiefling’s tail whipped this way and that, tensing as they curled their fingers. They yielded utterly to Mistress and the sensation was bliss incarnate. They knew, intrinsically, that such rapture could be theirs so long as Mistress willed it—and they would do anything to secure her favor. The thought of reaching up to take off the collar never even crossed into them.
In and in went Mistress, over and over, again and again; and though Prometheus did not at first realize it, their old self slowly waned with each and every thrust. Every push got the tiefling just a little more addicted to her body, every plunge pushed away thoughts of home—for what was home if not the warmth of this bed and the security of Mistress’s arms?—away from them. Gone were those silly obsessions with returning to the mortal plane. What sanity was there in fleeing back to a life of desperation and futility which would always be spent on the run? Mistress had saved them from that life, and from the brutish lusts of Yeenoghu too. Prometheus realized that it had been selfish of them to deny her past attentions; surely they owed her that for rescuing them? But she, bless her, hadn’t held it against them. And in fact despite their recalcitrance, Mistress had had seen fit to honor them with the moniker of ‘lover’.
It was enough to almost make them cry.
“You know, pet, I’ve an idea. A little plan I’ve toyed with. It involves you, dearest.” Her breath was the kiss of life on their ear.
“T-Tell me more, Mistress,” Prometheus managed to get out amidst her thrusts.
“Mmm. Well, you have such a lovely body… a body fit for siring demonic brood on, wouldn’t you say? I’ve always wanted some offspring, and I think they would look adorable with your features as well, my sweet pet.”
Mistress… wanted them to carry her offspring? The proposal shocked Prometheus, but they immediately melted into acquiescence. “Oh Mistress, I’d be—nngh—h-honored! I would yield myself happily!”
“Are you certain?” Her voice was velvet. “I would not want to force you… if you wish not to, simply say so.”
“I wish to,” Prometheus replied back. They held a hand up to the collar, their collar, the collar that should never come off. “I wish to so desperately, Mistress! Please allow me the honor of bearing your children!”
The succubus smiled and something like triumph gleamed in her eyes. “Well then, hold fast, my little sweet. Hold fast indeed.” And she pumped in and held, grunting, while her seed spilled out; and Prometheus moaned, happily accepting it. They could hardly wait…
---
It didn’t take long for the tiefling’s belly to swell.
Prometheus was quite proud of it, eagerly cooing over it, rubbing it with both hands, and imagining the brood that they were bearing for their mistress. Surely it would be a cute little tiefling just like them, but with Mistress’s elegant, ineffable beauty… yes, that was exactly it. Or perhaps a succubus like her…
Their focus no longer remained on the world outside the estate. Whether the hells or the mortal plane, it hardly concerned them, did it? Mistress might come and go, but she always returned, fawning over her beloved pet and teasing them about how plump and ripe they’d gotten. The world outside was for her to be bothered with; it was nothing to do with Prometheus at all.
Indeed, they rarely bothered thinking about the gnolls or the cultists anymore except to consider how marvelous and wonderful and kind and true it wasthat Mistress had saved them from their adversaries. Oftentimes during sex (for Prometheus had grown insatiable for Mistress’s attention and they trysted almost daily now) Prometheus would lavish Mistress with praise and gratitude for having taken them in. Mistress was sure to accept their words with grace and dignity.
Even when they weren’t having sex, Mistress would lead them about her estate on their pretty silvered chain. It was unthinkable to Prometheus now that they could actually be separated from Mistress; the collar alone was no longer just part of them. The chain was mandatory as well. They felt incomplete without it and without Mistress’s familiar guidance at the end. Without her, where would they be? They didn’t know what to do. They needed the security and comfort she provided, needed it above all else.
Late in the pregnancy, when Prometheus felt just about ready to pop, the two of them cuddled together on their lush bed after a wonderful night of sex. Mistress was petting their tummy possessively with one finger and Prometheus blushed happily from the sensation of their babies squirming inside their stomach. They didn’t know for sure how many they would have, but it was certainly more than one.
“You’ll have another batch,” Mistress said quietly. “In a year or two, once you’re ready.”
It was not a question. She did not pretend to follow Prometheus’s desires and wants anymore when it came to their body. Or, perhaps, it would be more accurate to say that Prometheus didn’t have desires and wants anymore, save those that their Mistress insisted upon.
Besides, Prometheus glowed with happiness at the mention of their fate. They couldn’t wait for Mistress to fuck a second brood into them.
“Whatever you desire, Mistress,” they said, and meant every word. “My flesh and my womb and my soul are yours.”