Prince Abaddon, an Erotic MM Drama (part one)
Hell has a New King
What a week it has been. I've felt a fresh surge of hope ever since my near-miss with my estranged faerie friend in the park. How strange it is, then, that my new angelic erotica begins on a darker note.
It wasn't intentional on my part.
I admit, when I write, I rarely begin with an outline. The quill flies across the pages of my notebook as if I were half-possessed, often leaving me with a chapter full of twists and turns I never expected.
This book that erupted from the hidden corners of my imagination is a frightening vision of a tyrannical king and a Heavenly servant's fall from grace. In Satan's absence, Abaddon takes the throne of Hell for himself, while the scribe Rideriel, overcome with sorrow and loneliness, abandons the celestial realm.
Recently, Blarg was kind enough to read through the first book in this series. When he finished, he made the usual points regarding grammar and sentence structure, but then asked:
"This is Tzyeriel and Satan's story, why did you spend so much time focused on Rideriel?"
I couldn't give him a satisfying answer. It's true that in most stories of this nature, the seduced scribe would have been merely a plot device, a one-note character readily discarded by author and reader alike once he'd served his function. I pondered Blarg's question, wondering why I'd felt the need to flesh out a character beyond his typical narrative role.
I'm beginning to wonder if some part of me recognized there was more to Rideriel than I first realized. Perhaps he carried a grief I didn't anticipate, or a hidden rebellious streak that had to be heard, a presence too tangible to disappear once his scene was complete.
Now that we're all gathered around, the story of Prince Abaddon and the troubles of Rideriel may begin. Prepare yourselves, dear readers, as we return once more to the underworld.
***
Satan’s grand palace lay in ruins. Demons toiled day and night, rebuilding the structure to suit the tastes of Hell’s new lord. The air hummed with their grunts as they labored, each one fearful of what might happen should any of them fail, for they knew there was no one within the Abyss with a colder heart than its new sovereign, Prince Abaddon.
The dark angel was a towering figure with sleek black wings and a chiseled form clad in shining obsidian armor. Abaddon was the ruler of swarms. He was always accompanied by several locusts that hovered around him as his ever-present entourage. With a single word, he could unleash devastating clouds of the insects across the croplands of the mortal world, causing immeasurable suffering upon the human race.
The prince was entertaining company within the confines of his private chambers. A slender, serpentine incubus crawled across the floor, clad only in thin strips of leather.
The demon stared up at him alluringly. Abaddon chuckled and asked,
"So, you wish to serve me however I please?" The incubus nodded, visibly shivering. Abaddon reached out, touching its rough, scaly skin. A locust landed on one of the creature’s horns, but the demon didn’t notice, so intent was its gaze upon its new master.
Abaddon circled the reptilian being, his eyes gleaming with cruel pleasure. He put his mouth to its ear and whispered,
"My, aren’t we eager? Just think of what I could do to you..." The locusts swarmed with greater intensity, their movements quickening in tune to Abaddon’s excitement. The incubus shook with delight, crying out,
"Oh, master, have of me as you will!" Abaddon stepped back, regarding his subject with amusement. His grin widened as he said,
"I would make you my plaything. But..." The incubus eyed him questioningly and asked,
"Is something the matter, my lord?" Abaddon’s smile turned sinister. He circled the demon, leaned in close, and whispered,
"I know of your plot, life-eater." The creature, terrified by Abaddon's tone, shrank back. The angel continued,
"You came in here intending to feast upon me the way your kind devours a lonely widow." The panicked incubus stammered,
"Master, no! I came to you only out of desire; I had to-" Abaddon cocked an eyebrow, and asked,
"Were you aware that my spies were listening when your commander gave the order to assassinate me?" The incubus stuttered,
"I-I..."
The wicked angel grinned malevolently, holding up one of his hands. A locust promptly landed upon it. The malevolent angel's grin widened as he said,
"My armies are twofold. There are the horned brutes who shed blood in battle, and the small soldiers who act as my eyes and ears. This one overheard your entire conversation with Count Bael." the incubus, voice trembling, replied,
"The insect lies! I would never-"
The expression on Abaddon's face silenced the demon. The leather-bound entity quickly jumped to its feet and fled down the hallway. Abaddon pointed at the demon, unleashing the full force of his swarm. The locusts surged forward, enveloping the demon completely. A multitude of mandibles gnawed at its flesh as its anguished cries reverberated throughout the corridors.
The nearby laborers halted, stunned by the horrifying spectacle. Abaddon folded his powerful arms across his chest, watching the horde intently. Once the insects had devoured enough of the would-be assassin, he snapped his fingers, summoning them back. They obediently abandoned the skeletal remnants of the demon, reforming into a droning cloud around Abaddon’s form.
As he entered the crown chamber, the prince frowned, thinking,
Bastards, the whole lot.
He shook his head dismissively. There were more urgent matters demanding his attention. Without uttering a word, he sat upon Satan's abandoned throne.
***
The light of Heaven shone throughout the Hall of Records. Rideriel, a slender, delicate angel with curly chestnut hair, sat hunched over his desk, a blank scroll spread out before him. The other scribes said nothing as they focused on their work.
He couldn't focus on the task at hand. Rideriel closed his eyes and thought of Tzyeriel, his personal angel of sin. Despite his best efforts, the memory of his encounter with the Seraph overtook him.
Rideriel was unlike his brothers; most of the angels of Heaven were chaste in their inclinations, while he held a forbidden attraction to his own kind. Until that day, he'd always managed to repress his longing, but when he’d looked into Tzyeriel's scarlet eyes, a fleeting exchange of unspoken words of desire passed between them,
I'm just like you.
Rideriel had tried to say something, but the shock of meeting a kindred soul rendered him speechless. Tzyeriel had placed a strong, gentle hand over his and said,
"There's no need to be afraid in my presence." In that instant, Rideriel had surrendered his will, knowing that he would do whatever the lovely angel asked of him.
They found themselves amidst stacks of parchment in a back room, clinging feverishly to one another in a frenzy of passion. Rideriel had cried out in ecstasy as he was filled by the Seraph, delighting in the raw power of every thrust.
The scribe had never climaxed before; when the moment came for him, it was something entirely new, a brilliant moment of freedom he’d never known.
Afterward, as they lay together naked and sweating, Rideriel realized the full gravity of what he'd done. A wave of shame and regret had descended upon him. Tzyeriel sensed the mood in the room shift. He’d given him a warm smile and asked,
"Was that your first time?"
Rideriel had nodded silently. The Seraph continued,
"Don’t worry, I also felt a little awkward after my first experience." Rideriel said nothing, got up, and exited the room without a backward glance.
Tzyeriel had frowned, shrugged, and went on his way.
Despite his apparent nonchalance, Rideriel began yearning to experience that thrill once more.
He began using his position to delve into records of Tzyeriel’s records. The Seraph was an angel of wrath, serving as an agent of divine retribution. Rideriel came across excerpts such as:
"The unruly Duke of Hell was bound in chains and given thirty lashes across the backside…"
Rideriel read these accounts obsessively, weaving strange daydreams of what kinds of encounters they might have if he ever met Tzyeriel again.
Over time, these fantasies consumed his thoughts, overshadowing every other aspect of his life.
At last, the day came when the Seraph returned to the Hall of Records. Rideriel’s heart raced at the sight of him, but he was overwhelmed by his fear of being discovered as a lustful angel. Instead of speaking to Tzyeriel, he’d hid under his desk, cursing himself all the while for his cowardice.
Unbeknownst to Rideriel, one of the other scribes had overheard his clandestine tryst. Rumors spread, and when his coworkers saw him hiding from the Seraph, most of them concluded the stories were true.
Rideriel was summoned and interrogated. Out of fear he’d tearfully confessed. In the end, his testimony was used to expel Tzyeriel from Heaven.
As scribes were smaller and weaker than Seraphim, the Archangels assumed Rideriel was largely blameless, and allowed him to stay.
But everyone now knew of the stain he carried, and he became an outcast.
He silently wept as he sat staring at the parchment. The name of the figure from his darkest dreams, whose face and form tortured his every thought, quietly issued forth from his lips,
"Tzyeriel.”
The silence was broken by the harmonious tune of several golden trumpets. Archangel Gabriel rang out joyfully,
We are loved by Him,
Our Father above,
Blessed Lord O God,
We praise His mercy.
The scribes laid down their quills, rose, and huddled together in a large circle to sing. Rideriel felt no happiness in his heart, but tried to join them nonetheless. However, the other angels positioned their wings to keep him out of the group. None would say it, but it was obvious Rideriel's presence was not wanted.
They'd treated him this way several times before. There was now an ever-present coldness in their interactions with Rideriel that hadn't existed between them before. Any time he attempted to interact with another angel, they'd do everything they could to avoid him, as if acknowledging him would deliver some terrifying curse upon them.
Alone and dejected, he returned to his desk. His thoughts spiraled into an endless, dark void. In a state of deepest despair, he thought,
I will never know love again.
Unable to bear the pain any longer, Rideriel rose from his desk, walked to a nearby balcony, and leapt off. The other angels noticed, but remained indifferent. As far as they were concerned, he'd fallen the moment he'd committed his sin.
He plummeted to Earth, crashing down upon a quiet meadow. Were he not an angel, he would have been obliterated on impact, but he merely lay in a silent, stunned state.
A small rabbit approached him, sniffing curiously at his ethereal form. Rideriel reached out to touch its soft forehead, but it quickly darted away into the grass.
He sat up, brushing his hands against the grass. Rideriel looked around and felt his despair lifted slightly by the sight of several yellow buttercups swaying in the breeze. Overhead, chirping sounds filled the air. He wondered if these were the songs of the birds he'd heard so much about in Heaven. As he sat there alone, taking in his new world, their melodies filled his heart with a momentary peace.
Rideriel stood up, and headed off to see what fate had in store for him.
***
Thus ends today's chapter. We leave Prince Abaddon with his crown while Rideriel begins his travels in the world of mortals.
I'll be scribbling away, allowing my quill to reveal what's to come. After all these years of trying obsessively to keep control, I'm letting go, allowing myself to write from the heart. How that will look, I cannot say, but therein lies the seed of discovery.