Prince Abaddon: An Erotic MM Drama (part eight) 18+

Rideriel finds he enjoys the scent of almonds and leather

I'm currently standing in the bathtub, covered head to foot in leather welding gear, ready with a butterfly net and spray bottle.

Nicole is stooped next to the toilet, draped in similar attire. We've placed the terrarium, bag of pinhead crickets, and water bowl on the countertop. A damp towel is crammed under the door frame in case there are any escape attempts by the infant fire-breathers.

So begins a most dreadfully dangerous operation: the feeding and care of dragons.

Nicole is opening the mesh lid just enough to release the crickets, and slide in the water dish.

As she worked, a few of the hatchlings managed to attach themselves to her gloved hand. Alarmed, I swooped in like a gallant knight, misting them with a cloud of water droplets until they were forced to retreat.

Once she'd finished her task, she quickly clamped down the lid, checking the seam carefully to make sure it was properly set in place.

After we checked the entire bathroom to make sure none of the dragonlings had slipped out, she opened the door, greeting a very nervous Blarg waiting outside. They spoke about the matter for a few moments. Nicole remarked,

"Their care is doable for now, but once they start growing bigger..."

A silence fell between them. I couldn't see their faces, but felt a tension in the air so thick it could be cut with a knife.

I'm not too proud to admit I'm rather flummoxed by this situation. I've grown to enjoy residing in the human world, but I might be required to pack my bags and return to the Nether realm.

I shall clear my head by taking a mid-morning stroll, dictating the next part of my erotic drama to Stinksnort as I go.

***

As Rideriel carefully made his way through the palace, he encountered several crews of demons, their voices harsh and guttural as they argued over who had what duties.

At one point, he hid behind a beam just in time to hear a passing grey-furred beast and a multi-eyed insect whisper among themselves. The lupine demon said,

"Satan, he was cruel, sure, he'd take the whip to you as soon as look at you, but at least he was fair. He'd tell you what he expected. So long as you didn't cross him, you were fine."

The insectile demon clicked its mandibles and replied,

"Abaddon was nothing more than Satan's enforcer. The only thing he understands is brute force." The insect paused,

Click click click

Then continued:

"He caught Delous napping on the job. That monstrous angel sent a swarm of locusts to eat off the poor fellow's wings. Delous was in agony, but Abaddon still demanded he work a double shift." The bristle-haired demon snorted in disgust and said,

"That loony angel doesn't know how to lead, he only understands control." He paused, adding wistfully,

"I miss Satan's fiddle. Remember how he'd gather us all together for concerts? No matter what our bosses had us fighting about, when Satan played his music, for a brief moment we'd dance and forget our troubles."

As they wandered off, Rideriel considered their words, grateful he'd decided to escape. He continued on, stepping as quietly as he could.

A pair of large, horned guards nearly caught him, but he managed to flatten himself against the wall just in time. The angel caught his breath. His heart was racing with fear, but he knew allowing panic to overwhelm him would be his own doom, so he swallowed the horrors, focusing his energy on scanning his surroundings.

Rideriel's eyes caught sight of a ceiling beam. As soon as the guards were gone, he flew upward, steadying himself while finding a foothold.

He took his time, carefully moving along the thick wooden beam until he reached the scaffolding near the outer wall. After a brief examination, he noticed a gap in the old stone wall. Feeling hopeful, he began to walk toward the opening.

But a cold voice below him rang out,

"Ah, there you are, little bird."

Before Rideriel could react, a slimy tentacle grabbed hold of his slender waist, sending him crashing to the floor.

A horrifying octopus demon held him in its grip. The locust angel gazed at his captive and said,

"I was giving my guests a tour of the castle. My intention was to introduce them to you, my newest ornament, but someone must have opened the door to your cage."

Abaddon was dressed in an elegant silken robe with a ruby-laden banner draped across his wide chest. He was flanked by the Marquis Andras and a demon whom Rideriel assumed to be Duke Astaroth.

The Duke was easily a foot taller than Abaddon, with long, regal horns and an air of quiet authority. Abaddon grinned malevolently, turned to the octopus, and said,

"Since my pet has been disobedient, he's lost the privilege of wearing courtly robes. Take him to the royal closet, tell them to dress him in his proper leather attire. When he's ready, bring him to the dining hall."

The Marquis gave the prince a puzzled look, asking,

"Sire, I mean no disrespect, but this member of your harem- are you playing a fantasy game where you pretend to be his captor?"

Abaddon nodded, replying,

"Indeed, my little bird is quite submissive. He loves imagining himself to be my prisoner."

Rideriel was about to protest when Abaddon grabbed hold of him, silencing him with a deep, passionate kiss. The scribe's heart fluttered as heat rushed through his body. Abaddon released him, his piercing gaze burning into Rideriel's eyes. It was as if the prince were a serpent hypnotizing his prey.

The dark angel gave a command with his hand. The octopus demon waved one of its tentacle in the affirmative as it carried the angel away.

A pair of well-dressed goat-headed attendants stood waiting at the doors of the grand royal closet. The octopus gurgled something Rideriel couldn't make out. The demons nodded and scurried away into the back among the rows of fancy attire.

The smaller one soon returned, carrying what could barely be called an outfit. He motioned toward Rideriel and said,

"Please remove your robe."

The angel stared down at the strips of leather held together by a single metal ring. A strange curiosity filled him as he imagined himself in such a garment. Rideriel grabbed the folds of his robe, slowly pulling it over his head.

Soon, he stood before a full-length crystal mirror. Most of his naked flesh was exposed, with only a few strips of leather covering his loins. The demons clucked their tongues, clearly dissatisfied. The shorter one turned to his companion, saying,

"He's far too pale. A little blush on his cheeks would greatly enhance his appearance." The other demon nodded and replied,

"We should brush some almond oil into his hair to give it a lovely shine." They rushed away to grab the rouge and oil, their cloven hooves clicking on the polished obsidian floor as they went.

They worked on Rideriel with the same level of care that would have been afforded the king's favorite collie. After they were done, they fastened a decorated silver collar around his neck. The taller one remarked,

"I've never decorated an angel before. This will be one for the logbook." His partner nodded, signaling to the guard that they were finished.

With surprising dexterity, the octopus fastened a leash to Rideriel's collar, directing him down the corridor leading to the banquet hall.

Rideriel felt an intense mix of emotions. He was angry at his humiliation, yet strangely excited by his immodest, lascivious appearance. In Heaven, he'd always covered his body in such a sexless fashion, obscuring his form beneath plain white silk.

The exotic scent of almonds clinging to him heightened an internal sense of desirability he'd never had a chance to experience.

He knew this entire situation was wrong. Had he the ability, he would have run, but there was something strange within the shadows of his soul that was enjoying the experience.

Gradually, the distant sounds of heated discussion grew louder. The guard arrived at the large polished door, swinging it wide open.

The dining room was the largest Rideriel had seen in the castle, featuring walls decorated with paintings of the many demon lords. A ruby chandelier hung from the ceiling, bathing the room in a mixture of deep red shimmering embers.

The table surface was well over twenty feet long. Abaddon sat at the head, his wings framing his figure like a gargoyle. Andras and Astorath sat next to him, placed so they would be eye-to-eye. The demons were engaged in a heated argument, while the prince sat back, enjoying the spectacle. Andras sneered,

"Utter nonsense, Astorath, you've drawn your army across the edges of my territory. Clearly, you intend to take what's rightfully mine. What gall you have, acting as if your overt hostility were a defensive measure!"

Astorath replied,

"If you kept better control of the demons among your own borders, I wouldn't need to reinforce them."

Abaddon turned his attention to Rideriel and said,

"Ah! Look now! Andras, Astorath, my bird has arrived!"

The demons ceased their arguing, turning to look at the prince's latest acquisition. Astorath nodded nonchalantly, but Andras perked up at the sight of the angel, saying,

"Such beauty..."

Abaddon motioned for Rideriel to step forward. The scribe moved reluctantly. As he headed toward the table, the full light of the chandelier fell upon him, causing him to glow with the full brilliance of his Heaven-forsaken loveliness.

Abaddon gestured for him to stop. Rideriel did so, nervously trembling as he imagined what might happen next. The prince called out,

"Sing for us, little bird." Rideriel hesitated before replying,

"But I'm a scribe. I wasn't made to sing. I'm not even sure I'm capable of-"

Abaddon shot him a look as sharp as a newly polished blade. Rideriel gulped, stammering,

"A-alright."

He closed his eyes, thinking back to his fall from Heaven. On that day, he'd felt such sorrow, but the song of the birds in the meadow had lifted his spirits. He remembered their music, took a deep breath...

And began to sing.

The first few notes caught in his throat, so unused was he to such activity. As he let go of his fear, the song issuing from his breast became sweeter and more melodious.

The dining hall quieted. Andras stared at Rideriel in awe. Astorath leaned closer, clearly enchanted by the song. Even the octopus guard wept, so overwhelmed was it by joy.

Abaddon sat silently, his wicked smile transforming into a deep frown. During his time in Heaven, he'd been a greater singer than even the highest of the Archangels. In the spring, he'd directed the music amongst the grasshoppers of the field. By the orchestration of his hand, they rubbed their hind legs together like the bows of a thousand miniature violins.

But then he'd foolishly joined Lucifer's crusade and been cursed to reside forevermore in the abyss. The last time he sang had been when he'd first walked the barren landscape of Hell. It had been a song so filled with sorrow, he'd never wished to sing again.

The dining room doors slowly opened. Several servants entered, carrying trays covered in various aromatic meat dishes. Abaddon watched as they scurried about, carefully setting the decorated platters upon the tabletop.

There was far more on display than even the demon lords could eat, but Abaddon was nothing if not extravagant. He motioned to Rideriel, who had reached a brilliant crescendo, saying,

"That's enough, little bird. It's time for my guests to eat." Rideriel stopped singing. Andras sighed and remarked,

"'Tis a pity. Ever since you forbade music in Hell, I've missed-" Abaddon's face grew dark. Andras paused, realizing his mistake. Astorath gave a nod of agreement, the first, in fact, that he'd granted the raven-headed Marquis throughout the night, and added,

"Lord Abaddon, your... bird is quite the rare jewel." The prince waved the comment away and replied,

"His voice is pleasant enough, but come now-" he gestured across the decadent spread laid before them, saying,

"I've had the finest dishes cooked up tonight. Engorge yourselves as you see fit." He turned to Rideriel and said,

"Come here pet, pose upon the center of the table."

Rideriel gave him a confused look. The prince grinned wickedly and explained,

"You shall stand in the form of Hermes of Praxiteles, with your hips tilted playfully in a display of sensual form."

Rideriel looked down at the floor bashfully. His lack of dress was unnerving enough, but posing like an art piece...

He sighed, thinking,

"What else am I to do?"

***

I eventually ended up at a gourmet donut shop, scouring the contents of the glass display case. Unable to decide upon a particular treat, I ordered a platter with a dozen different glazed confections, enlisting my goblin minion to carry it after me as I climbed the stairs to the second floor.

Upon selecting the finest available window seat, we sat down and began tearing into our doughy banquet.

Some of the surrounding humans, seemingly unaccustomed to traditional goblin table manners, turned to stare at us.

One fellow with his hair up in a bun made an obnoxious remark about how we should eat our pastries one bite at a time, instead of cramming the entire thing in our mouths. I tried to tear into the peasant with a witty comeback, but sadly, the only thing that issued from my lips was an explosion of airborne crumbs.

I decided to ignore him, devouring my confections with nary a care.

Stinksnort, as an aside, I thank you for having the foresight to bring along that napkin dispenser set behind the cashier.

The massive amounts of sugar helped to finally bring my dragon-induced anxiety down to a manageable level. As I left my seat, I tossed my cloak over my shoulder, intent upon making a grand exit.

Unfortunately, the other doughnut epicureans missed the spectacle, as they'd all returned to looking at their phones.

I wonder if, by some strange magic, there's a human at this moment reading this dictation on a phone...