Silken sheets. No leather, or chains. No blades or fire. He was bleeding heavily, his flesh torn to pieces, his skin hanging on in places only by a thread, or not at all. His breathing was a series of wet pants, gurgling up from lungs thick with blood and bile and corruption.
Soon, Belial would be back. Belkar didn’t really want to think about it, but there was nothing else he could think about.
The Fallen Angel would mock him, and humiliate him, and hurt him. And most likely he wouldn’t stop at touches this time.
He shuddered, and curled tighter in a ball.
He hard voices, but he couldn’t see. His left eye seemed to be gone, or at least blinded, and he couldn’t even move his head. His skin felt sticky and two tight, and it hurt to breathe, but more to stop.
His egotistical nature wouldn't allow him to think that he was getting what he deserved. All he could think about was how much he hated this, and how much he wanted revenge he knew he would never get. Worst, was the feeling that he wanted Belial to be here, to hurt him. He didn’t understand the feeling, and hated it, but at the same time couldn’t escape it.
It was an hour before the door opened again, but to him it could've been a moment or Milenias. He had lost touch with time at this point, and time was irrelevent. This was hell. This was eternal. He would still be here when the stars winked out and the sea swallowed the land, when the gods themselves died. He heard voices, and then felt a presence above him, but he didn’t couldn’t move is head. His arms seemed to be working alright, and he felt every inch of his ravaged from, but he could barely move.
“So anyway, Boss.” Said a throaty, purring voice. “I was wondering if you could lend some more power to Nale. He’s running short on minions and influence, and the whole ‘Soul Fire’ thing is just what we need, and I mean, his souls pretty much forfeit anyway, so no need to even ask for payment, right? Plus, it would make him more interesting in bed, which is never to be-“
“Do you find your lover lacking?” Said the angels voice, making Belkar bite his lip at the sudden feeling of tingling warmth simmering across his skin and the cold feeling in his gut. "Because if you need some… stimulation…"
“No!” She sad hurriedly. “Of course not. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’d, ah, better get back to him, actually. Ha ha.” She said finished unconvincingly, and more then a little nervously. Belkar knew then he recognized the voice, but where? What had there been before the pain? The constant sensation had dulled his memories, made them meaningless, and it all seemed so long ago…
“Stay a while.” He said, and Belkar felt the heat get closer, until the angel was looking down at him, a knowing smirk on his features. “She lusts after me.” Belial said softly to Belkar, but loudly enough for her to hear “But she knows I would destroy her. So she resists, as painful as it is for her. If only you’d been so wise, don’t you think?” His long fingered hand stroked Belkar’s cheek, then slid down his neck, leaving an irritated red burn in a thin trail, from his chin to his groin.
Belkar let out a moan, that might have been fear, suffering or something else.
“You wanted this, from the second you clapped eyes on me. You wanted to feel it. You had to know.” Desires undreamed rose within the halflings thoughts, and he could only nod helplessly.
His face turned for a fraction to whoever he had been talking too, and he smiled a thin-lipped, sensual smile, revealing just a glimmer of perfect teeth. “Sit back. You get to watch.”
His skin was drenched in his own fluids, and he was gasping. In a distant corner of his mind a the conscious of a Halfling named Belkar cringed in terror, as his body went out of control, becoming a thing apart. He shuddered as waves of pleasure coursed through him, numbing the last shred of volition. Belial's hand traced circles of fire across the his stomach. Th angel lowered his head and kissed hiss neck, and he felt a spring within him winding tight. His mind had been overcome by hot longings, and he thrashed and bucked like a wild animal, unable to find release, sounds of primitive pleasure erupting from his lips.
Through a crimson haze of his own pounding blood, he could see Belial lying atop him. His perfect face blurred and shifted for a moment, and another face stared down at him, one of unspeakable evil whose aspect was madness given form by some demented artist. His kiss seared Belkars lips, his touch scorched the skin, and pleasure crossed over to intensity beyond his capacity to endure.
He felt himself climbing to new heights of desire, and in that terrible instant, pleasure turned to pain.
He knew agony beyond his ability to rationalize, to comprehend or understand, as fear profound and uncontrolled, the knowledge that he stood poised on the brink of being lost forever, his identity gone like a handful of sand tossed into a stormy sea. Within his own mind he screamed himself hoarse, his body remaining a thing apart, moaning and bucking as Belial made him dance like a puppet.
As Belial moved, he attacked him with animal fury, his teeth and nails tearing through muscle and bone, his teath crushing resistance, eliciting hoarse moans as Belkar stood detached, a spectator in his own body that was so mindless in it’s grotesque and unthinking lust even agony was something to be enjoyed.
Silently, inwardly, he wet in mortal terror as the being worked his perverted magic, until at last, an eternity later, he cam to a shuddering stop, and Belkar Screamed as he felt his body afire. Flickering golden light streamed from every pore as he rolled, screaming and convulsing. When at last he stopped, Belial was still there, and lay a perfect hand on Belkar, whose injuries hall all faded and gone. The memories of trauma and agony, however had not.
“Thank me.” He said imperiously, and the Halfling, to his own considerable disgust, found himself nodding gratefully.
“Thank you, master.” He said, meaning every word, and Belial’s smile widened. "I am so enjoying this, Belkar. You are nearly finished."