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tampered2007-04-09 01:30 am
satanofsloth.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-04-09 01:30 am
Log; Complete
When; Thursday afternoon, 05 April 2007 (backlog)
Rating; R for violence, torture, and general squick
Characters; , Aldo (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
char_treuse), Astaroth (satanofsloth)
Summary; Aldo is caught in Astaroth's labyrinth and becomes one of his victims before the feast.
Log;
Instinctively Aldo knew he was trapped once he set foot in the labyrinth. If he could still be bothered by the cold maybe that would have first caught his attention above everything else. It was cold, uncomfortably cold, but despite having had some days to reacquaint himself to physical sensations his mind was still mostly detached from it. It was dark, that was the first thing that worried him beyond the thoughtless instinct. Dark and closed in, gray stone walls seeming to close in on him while each turn and bend did little more than lead him in circles.
It was worse than the City with its looming buildings that hovered above like grim reapers. And it was equally puzzling for Aldo how he arrived here. He had been aiming for the forest but this was…not. And while his sense of direction was wretched it couldn’t begin to explain this.
No, it was more like he’d been blindfolded and led here by a seductive, guiding hand. And still it continued to push him deeper into the Minotaur’s lair.
If only it had been a Minotaur, the situation would be less grim, because even he would grant one a swift demise. But no, this was something else. This labyrinth belonged to two fallen ones, and the faint scraping of feet against a particular patch of gravel on the rough concrete was distinct to one's ears, and two giantic eyes with an eerie red luminance blinked open. In the pitch darkness of his resting spot, the creature began to slither silently towards the source of the sound.
Yes... It smelled of human flesh. Whether or not it was a soulful being did not matter, because the smell was getting stronger and stronger. Yes, human... let me hunt you.
Because the labyrinth was marked by the scent of blood, the owner knew his way without any source of light or sound. Sometimes, he would wield a large ax, but at other times, there was no need for weapons.
Aldo paused in his step. Walking forward, any deeper into this place, was not a good idea. He realized that very well but there was no back, even if there was nothing blocking him from backtracking he felt cornered. “Who’s there?” he asked, he’d spoken softly but in the dead silence of the maze that single phrase felt magnified and almost seemed to echo hollowly. The air around him seemed to quiver in warning even in the absence of wind. What little good would a bow and arrows do, Aldo wondered. Especially how ill practiced his skill was after more than a century of disuse.
If it was a simple matter of trespassing an animal’s territory he’d have a chance but this wasn’t a forest and it was no simple beast lurking around the corner.
The walkways were narrow at some places, but it was also wide and tall at certain areas depending on how far down the roads had sloped. Duke Astaroth's night vision was superb and he ran noiselessly as if he could glide through the musky air, because, in a sense, he still did.
The human came into clear view just around the seventh turn he made, and he poised himself behind a tall column and surveyed his prey. Bow and arrow, what a foolish and useless weapon against his body, which was covered in obsidian-like scales. In the dark, he smiled at the black-haired and fair human man in reply to his question. Although he preferred women, the blood pulsing through his veins was clear as daylight to him, and although most of it was going to go to the feast, he would still have the first taste and the pleasure of the man's screams echoing through his chambers.
Your lord is here... he continued to smile to himself as his neck stretched out closer until it was at the top of the pillar to the right of the puny little human beneath. A second later, he would strike out with his fangs...
The wind rune affixed to his right hand glowed faintly in the dim prison. Flight obviously wasn’t an option, this was its territory, there was no where Aldo could run. But he’d be damned if he went down without a fight. He raised his gaze instinctively where he felt his hunter watching him.
The air that had been still and stagnant moments ago began to shift and move. He’d really hoped to relearn his skills gradually but he highly doubted that Wind of Sleep would do much of anything.
Yes, get a good look at me, the snake purred within his mind in the split second he dove in with his fangs bared and aimed for the man's upper body, ready to puncture his delicious chest. There seemed to be a light wind blowing within the labyrinth for some reason, but it didn't bother Astaroth in the slightest. Maybe it was the man's spirit. Afterall, it's been a while since the Grand Duke of Hell had the pleasure of encountering a challenging meal.
There wasn’t a moment to panic, Aldo reacted instinctively, letting the force of the wind propel him backwards just barely escaping the fangs. He let his rune unleash the spell, the Shredding. It was futile, and he knew it but he wasn’t ready to roll over and surrender.
He caught himself and righted his body, the scent of blood finally whipping into his face. His blood too for sure if he didn’t at least attempt to fight back.
Since there was no more need for stealth, Astaroth slid further into the narrow hallway, completely clogging the escape route from his direction and completely stopping whatever wind spell that the human had just unleashed. The human had some energy in him, but not enough. It was almost boring. He had all the time in the world, which was much, much more than what the small human had left. The satan pulled back for a second and smiled, bearing his gleaming fangs, and he dove in once again with his full force. This time, he was sure, if the man did not run, he would be caught in his trap, and even if he did, the only way to go was a dead end.
He was caught but that wasn’t the first thing that shot through his mind. It was the pain. The pain ate at any coherent thought that might have crossed Aldo. It hadn’t bothered him when he’d stumbled and fell, when he’d slammed his head against the wall until he bled, when Ted punched him…this was a whole other magnitude. He could feel the fangs pierce his flesh and the blood that slid down his arms.
It was warm.
Strange how it was like this that he remembered the difference between warm and cold. How this was what made him really understand pain again. He grit his teeth against the scream of pain instinctively. Even if it had been during his prime there was no way he could defeat this demon. Not yet though, even if his current life was unnatural didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight for it.
As his sharp, long fangs dug deeper into the man's flesh, Astaroth could taste the warm blood seeping into his mouth, and his forked tongue darted out quickly to catch the trails escaping down his arms. Even his arms tasted good, the sweetness of his skin and odour was intoxicating as an appetizer. Venom was injected into the human's bloodstream, but it was only a mild poison to render him unconscious. Anything stronger would spoil the meat, so the snake withheld the deadly components.
Soon, the human would pass into unconsciousness, but if it took too long, Astaroth had other plans. He lowered his body to fill and surround the space around the insignificant body in his mouth, and he drove his fangs in deeper, wanting to see how the man would squirm.
He felt the serpentine body wrap around him, truly trapped now. The laws of nature demanded surrender at this point, accept your fate, wait for death and hope for something merciful and without pain. It made Aldo laugh, he wasn’t delirious yet, there was nothing merciful waiting for him in this encounter he knew. His breaths came in short, heavy pants, trying to draw air in, to stay conscious long enough to finish the incantation at least. The whispers of his Earthquake spell died on his lips as he finally gave in, body slumping against the demon.
The beginnings of a rumble came from around them, but it was only a sound, for their concrete surroundings did not so much as quiver. It was in his nature to hold his prey in his grasp a while longer, and so he did for a full minute while he savoured the man's slowed breathing as blood continued to seep into his mouth. Curious how this human had no heartbeat, however.
If he was still capable of laughing, he would, but all humour had been foreign to him for centuries it seemed. Now, all he sought was an end to the infinite boredom in his system and a means to quench his thirst for fresh, warm blood. First things first, though, and with the limp body in his jaws, the snake wove in and out of its labyrinth's dingy halls until the walkway began to have dim torches on the ground.
And suddenly, the limp body fell soundly on the bloodstained concrete. Where the enormous serpent head once was, there stood a tall man with loose a lapis-lazuli necklace draped around his neck and shoulders numerous times. Long, blood red hair hung down past the top of his pants, and with a rough nudge with the tip of his boots, he rolled the man over so that his face was lit by the torches.
"Hn, not a bad looking one," he spoke for the first time, his voice sounded a little nervous, as if he hadn't spoken in a while. "GET OVER HERE," he shouted suddenly, his voice changing to a loud boom although it still had the endings of a hiss.
Three hooded figures swaddled in black cloth appeared out of thin air and dropped to their knees all around the unconscious man. Wordlessly, they lifted the young man and walked ahead of their lord.
The tall man, named Astoreth, was now visibly holding a white snake around his shoulders, petting it slowly as he walked along the hall. Here in the light, it was obvious to the eye that this place was a catacomb, with humanoid bones lining the walls and scattered along the ground as well. The walk was long, but eventually, the group of five (or six, if you count the snake in Astoreth's arms) entered what seemed to be a large throne room, with the exception of miscellaneous torture devices scattered throughout the room and all along the walls. Another hooded figure in the room closed the door behind them, and while Astoreth took a seat in the large and minimally adorned throne, the three figures held the unconscious up and walked him towards a woman-shaped coffin.
His body was limp and lifeless, imitating the death he supposedly lived. Legs that wouldn’t hold him up, head that was bowed in hopelessness, he was a puppet hoisted by his captors, shoved into the coffin that would not house the dead. Or at least not the truly dead. The scream that finally broke his forced sleep and his stubborn silence was proof that something was still alive despite the lack of heartbeat and he could in fact feel the pain inflicted.
The spikes sunk into his flesh agonizingly slowly, the door of the coffin not closing completely yet. Into his body, pulling back for a moment and stabbing him more thoroughly, prying the wouds bigger, deeper. There was light through the crack of those doors. He would struggle but there was nowhere to struggle, packed into the coffin. He was incapable of moving. Incapable of thought even.
In his mind, the one that had refused to comprehend his unnatural life, he could now differentiate between pain and not pain. Finally. And even if his heart didn’t beat his blood did flow. It poured and leaked alternatively as the door mockingly squirmed on its hinges. The taunting glow of outside quivering with each motion along with the singsong squeak of the lid. Dead but his blood was so warm, sliding down his body almost seductively. He was dead but soon he’d be deader. “…Ted,” he whispered softly, a mocking replay of the last time he’d died. It was a moment of respite, the spikes buried in his body but not pulling back nor going deeper. He’d scream again in a moment when the torture resumed but for that moment he just remembered.
His scream echoed through the hollow catacomb in harmony with the melodic squeak and scrape of the iron maiden.
"Such a sweet sound this one makes," Astoreth purred at last. He had been watching the display with a bored expression, but yet, there was the slightest bit of intrigue in his eyes at the same time. From the moment his prey had been jammed into the elegant iron maiden, the man's screams filled him with the usual strange twinge of happiness, if he could call it that.
Stop it, brother, why can't you refuse that man's request for once? Please don't kill this one like you've killed the others.
The annoying voice of a woman pleaded inside his head, but Astoreth brushed it aside by focusing on the primal and horrified screams of the squirming man inside his beloved contraption. He began to wonder if it would have been better to put him in the other one with only one door of spikes or if this double-doored lady was the better one to use on this occasion. Sometimes, he found it more amusing to use the single-doored variation so that he could see his victim try to run away all the while bleeding all over the place and eventually collapsing, lost somewhere in the catacombs and hauled back later only to be displayed on the rack.
There was a large basin at the foot of the silent woman surrounding the screaming man to catch all the blood that spewed forth in ten streams that were formed on the casing to look like toes. Two similar, but smaller, basins were at waist level, where the hands of the maiden spouted fresh blood from the upper body within. The hooded figures moved about replacing the basins and pouring the fresh blood into metal barrels at the corner of the room that were each marked with a single black butterfly. One hooded man was refilling a long ladle with the fresh red liquid directly from the iron maiden's fingertips and bringing it to his lord's chalice which sat on a tall candle stand to the throne's right.
And as entertaining as this should be, Astoreth began to crave for something else again.
"I want him on the judas cradle," he commanded as roughly as his delicate voice would allow, and the attendants bowed their heads before hastily opening the metal coffin.
Bloodied, torn clothing was pulled roughly from his body. It was wet and dark with blood, clinging to Aldo like his skin. Each pull and tear was as if he was being skinned alive. The ropes that bound him rubbed against the puckered punctures, aggravating the wounds but there was no point in pulling away, nowhere to retreat since he was surrounded. His ankles were fastened to a metal bar, forcing his legs apart. Had he gone numb? If he’d his mind about maybe he would have flinched at the very least, felt some level of the humiliation and degradation but the blood loss had rendered him just short of mindless.
While his underlings heaved, pulled, and moved to set the naked human into proper restraints to be lifted up on top of the pyramid stool, Astoreth idly dipped his fingers into his blood chalice and licked slowly, savouring the sweet metallic taste each time. Occasionally, he would linger and swirl his tongue over his long nails, but he would always return his hand to the ever fresh supply of blood. The view of his new victim spread wide-eagled and bare made him, almost, feel something. He thought for a moment about what body parts to carve out. Should he go for internal organs, or should he just take out the non-vital muscles that would leave the victim lingering just centimeters away from death? Well the answer was easy, of course whichever would prolong the torture.
Besides, those parts would probably be best for serving at dinner too.
With just a silent nod from their lord, the cloaked figures cranked the pulleys that hoisted the body up in sudden and violent jerks, and when the V-shaped body was lifted high enough, a solo figure set a rancid pyramid-shaped wooden stool directly under the victim's anus. And then, the rest of the dark figures began to reverse the cranks.
Something crept into Astoreth's lips... something that would look natural if it weren't so evil. It was a real smile.
There was no merciful unconsciousness, no escape from the sudden intense pain. Whatever strength remained in Aldo’s body was put into violently lurching away from the violation even if the binds held him poised. Some strange stubbornness in him though held back that scream that threatened, teeth clamped against his cheek resulting in more of a hiss. So much blood already that the bit that trailed from his lips hardly made a difference. The taste of it was far from sweet though for Aldo.
He raised his head slightly, gaze seeking out his torturer for the first time. He caught sight of Astoreth as he was further pushed down.
Aldo closed his eyes though he couldn’t pass out, not with the way his body was pulled and contracted. It was like an animal that toyed needlessly with its prey. It didn’t make sense but even in nature it existed. He would…he wouldn’t survive this he had no doubt but he had no choice but to bear with the suffering. His breaths came in pants, each time he was moved against his will forced quiet cries of pain from him but he no had no more will or energy to scream.
Through lazy eyes, the red-haired man upon the throne caught the droopy gaze of his violated prey.
Look at me and acknowledge that I am your master, Astoreth purred in his mind, although if it had been voiced it would sound more like a hiss.
Stop it, brother! I can't bear to watch this any longer!
A strong force surged in him, but he held it back bitterly and bit hard into his own lip.
You will suffer it, woman, as I suffer your despicable desires. And watch this closely, close enough to feel the touch of his skin, he hissed angrily to himself. Whatever trace of a smile that was on his lips earlier had vanished completely only to be replaced by cruel spite. Astoreth got off his throne, hand lightly gripping the white snake around his shoulders, and he came to the suspended man's side.
"I want to see more blood," he said, tracing a finger along the bloody figure's long, muscled arm. "Lower."
The white snake in his hand slid from his grasp, up his arm, and wove its way around the warm, warm body above the cradle of love as the cranks were lowered another small notch with a violent thud.
More blood, as if he wasn’t already drained of it. How much more before death became a solid certainty. He couldn’t tell without a heart beat to smash it into his mind, his mental state the only thing to really judge by. He couldn’t get used to the pain of impalement but it was the unexpected touch against his bloodied arm that made him hiss in protest and then the slither of the white snake against him. It forced Aldo to look at the creature again, eye to eye this time, far too close for comfort. The relative peace he’d had inside the Soul Eater, the quiet company of the other souls that the rune had consumed. He wanted to sink his mind into that until he died again.
Eye contact with a serpent could either mean a mutual understanding between man and beast or one of the most dangerous thing one could do, and unfortunately for this human, it was the latter. Despite his man-like appearance, Astoreth was the farthest thing from a man there ever was. Holding his right hand out, one of his servants immediately fetched a large carving knife from the wall and placed the handle in his hand. With his free hand, he smeared blood from the human's arm down to his stomach, where he gave a strong push downwards, surprisingly strong for his tall but slender stature. Without breaking eye contact, he glided the carving knife swiftly across the man's bicep then paused short of slicing the entire piece off, causing even more blood to expel from the tense body. He repeated the gesture with the man's other arm then threw the blade to the floor when he was done. Splattered with fresh blood, Astoreth sucked his fingers clean and licked his lips.
"He'll make a good meal for them. Finish the job," Astoreth said with a dismissive wave as he retrieved the white, now bloodstained, snake and returned to his throne. Behind him, the filthy pyramid seat was nearly half buried inside the man who once wielded a bow and arrow.
Rating; R for violence, torture, and general squick
Characters; , Aldo (
char_treuse), Astaroth (satanofsloth)Summary; Aldo is caught in Astaroth's labyrinth and becomes one of his victims before the feast.
Log;
Instinctively Aldo knew he was trapped once he set foot in the labyrinth. If he could still be bothered by the cold maybe that would have first caught his attention above everything else. It was cold, uncomfortably cold, but despite having had some days to reacquaint himself to physical sensations his mind was still mostly detached from it. It was dark, that was the first thing that worried him beyond the thoughtless instinct. Dark and closed in, gray stone walls seeming to close in on him while each turn and bend did little more than lead him in circles.
It was worse than the City with its looming buildings that hovered above like grim reapers. And it was equally puzzling for Aldo how he arrived here. He had been aiming for the forest but this was…not. And while his sense of direction was wretched it couldn’t begin to explain this.
No, it was more like he’d been blindfolded and led here by a seductive, guiding hand. And still it continued to push him deeper into the Minotaur’s lair.
If only it had been a Minotaur, the situation would be less grim, because even he would grant one a swift demise. But no, this was something else. This labyrinth belonged to two fallen ones, and the faint scraping of feet against a particular patch of gravel on the rough concrete was distinct to one's ears, and two giantic eyes with an eerie red luminance blinked open. In the pitch darkness of his resting spot, the creature began to slither silently towards the source of the sound.
Yes... It smelled of human flesh. Whether or not it was a soulful being did not matter, because the smell was getting stronger and stronger. Yes, human... let me hunt you.
Because the labyrinth was marked by the scent of blood, the owner knew his way without any source of light or sound. Sometimes, he would wield a large ax, but at other times, there was no need for weapons.
Aldo paused in his step. Walking forward, any deeper into this place, was not a good idea. He realized that very well but there was no back, even if there was nothing blocking him from backtracking he felt cornered. “Who’s there?” he asked, he’d spoken softly but in the dead silence of the maze that single phrase felt magnified and almost seemed to echo hollowly. The air around him seemed to quiver in warning even in the absence of wind. What little good would a bow and arrows do, Aldo wondered. Especially how ill practiced his skill was after more than a century of disuse.
If it was a simple matter of trespassing an animal’s territory he’d have a chance but this wasn’t a forest and it was no simple beast lurking around the corner.
The walkways were narrow at some places, but it was also wide and tall at certain areas depending on how far down the roads had sloped. Duke Astaroth's night vision was superb and he ran noiselessly as if he could glide through the musky air, because, in a sense, he still did.
The human came into clear view just around the seventh turn he made, and he poised himself behind a tall column and surveyed his prey. Bow and arrow, what a foolish and useless weapon against his body, which was covered in obsidian-like scales. In the dark, he smiled at the black-haired and fair human man in reply to his question. Although he preferred women, the blood pulsing through his veins was clear as daylight to him, and although most of it was going to go to the feast, he would still have the first taste and the pleasure of the man's screams echoing through his chambers.
Your lord is here... he continued to smile to himself as his neck stretched out closer until it was at the top of the pillar to the right of the puny little human beneath. A second later, he would strike out with his fangs...
The wind rune affixed to his right hand glowed faintly in the dim prison. Flight obviously wasn’t an option, this was its territory, there was no where Aldo could run. But he’d be damned if he went down without a fight. He raised his gaze instinctively where he felt his hunter watching him.
The air that had been still and stagnant moments ago began to shift and move. He’d really hoped to relearn his skills gradually but he highly doubted that Wind of Sleep would do much of anything.
Yes, get a good look at me, the snake purred within his mind in the split second he dove in with his fangs bared and aimed for the man's upper body, ready to puncture his delicious chest. There seemed to be a light wind blowing within the labyrinth for some reason, but it didn't bother Astaroth in the slightest. Maybe it was the man's spirit. Afterall, it's been a while since the Grand Duke of Hell had the pleasure of encountering a challenging meal.
There wasn’t a moment to panic, Aldo reacted instinctively, letting the force of the wind propel him backwards just barely escaping the fangs. He let his rune unleash the spell, the Shredding. It was futile, and he knew it but he wasn’t ready to roll over and surrender.
He caught himself and righted his body, the scent of blood finally whipping into his face. His blood too for sure if he didn’t at least attempt to fight back.
Since there was no more need for stealth, Astaroth slid further into the narrow hallway, completely clogging the escape route from his direction and completely stopping whatever wind spell that the human had just unleashed. The human had some energy in him, but not enough. It was almost boring. He had all the time in the world, which was much, much more than what the small human had left. The satan pulled back for a second and smiled, bearing his gleaming fangs, and he dove in once again with his full force. This time, he was sure, if the man did not run, he would be caught in his trap, and even if he did, the only way to go was a dead end.
He was caught but that wasn’t the first thing that shot through his mind. It was the pain. The pain ate at any coherent thought that might have crossed Aldo. It hadn’t bothered him when he’d stumbled and fell, when he’d slammed his head against the wall until he bled, when Ted punched him…this was a whole other magnitude. He could feel the fangs pierce his flesh and the blood that slid down his arms.
It was warm.
Strange how it was like this that he remembered the difference between warm and cold. How this was what made him really understand pain again. He grit his teeth against the scream of pain instinctively. Even if it had been during his prime there was no way he could defeat this demon. Not yet though, even if his current life was unnatural didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight for it.
As his sharp, long fangs dug deeper into the man's flesh, Astaroth could taste the warm blood seeping into his mouth, and his forked tongue darted out quickly to catch the trails escaping down his arms. Even his arms tasted good, the sweetness of his skin and odour was intoxicating as an appetizer. Venom was injected into the human's bloodstream, but it was only a mild poison to render him unconscious. Anything stronger would spoil the meat, so the snake withheld the deadly components.
Soon, the human would pass into unconsciousness, but if it took too long, Astaroth had other plans. He lowered his body to fill and surround the space around the insignificant body in his mouth, and he drove his fangs in deeper, wanting to see how the man would squirm.
He felt the serpentine body wrap around him, truly trapped now. The laws of nature demanded surrender at this point, accept your fate, wait for death and hope for something merciful and without pain. It made Aldo laugh, he wasn’t delirious yet, there was nothing merciful waiting for him in this encounter he knew. His breaths came in short, heavy pants, trying to draw air in, to stay conscious long enough to finish the incantation at least. The whispers of his Earthquake spell died on his lips as he finally gave in, body slumping against the demon.
The beginnings of a rumble came from around them, but it was only a sound, for their concrete surroundings did not so much as quiver. It was in his nature to hold his prey in his grasp a while longer, and so he did for a full minute while he savoured the man's slowed breathing as blood continued to seep into his mouth. Curious how this human had no heartbeat, however.
If he was still capable of laughing, he would, but all humour had been foreign to him for centuries it seemed. Now, all he sought was an end to the infinite boredom in his system and a means to quench his thirst for fresh, warm blood. First things first, though, and with the limp body in his jaws, the snake wove in and out of its labyrinth's dingy halls until the walkway began to have dim torches on the ground.
And suddenly, the limp body fell soundly on the bloodstained concrete. Where the enormous serpent head once was, there stood a tall man with loose a lapis-lazuli necklace draped around his neck and shoulders numerous times. Long, blood red hair hung down past the top of his pants, and with a rough nudge with the tip of his boots, he rolled the man over so that his face was lit by the torches.
"Hn, not a bad looking one," he spoke for the first time, his voice sounded a little nervous, as if he hadn't spoken in a while. "GET OVER HERE," he shouted suddenly, his voice changing to a loud boom although it still had the endings of a hiss.
Three hooded figures swaddled in black cloth appeared out of thin air and dropped to their knees all around the unconscious man. Wordlessly, they lifted the young man and walked ahead of their lord.
The tall man, named Astoreth, was now visibly holding a white snake around his shoulders, petting it slowly as he walked along the hall. Here in the light, it was obvious to the eye that this place was a catacomb, with humanoid bones lining the walls and scattered along the ground as well. The walk was long, but eventually, the group of five (or six, if you count the snake in Astoreth's arms) entered what seemed to be a large throne room, with the exception of miscellaneous torture devices scattered throughout the room and all along the walls. Another hooded figure in the room closed the door behind them, and while Astoreth took a seat in the large and minimally adorned throne, the three figures held the unconscious up and walked him towards a woman-shaped coffin.
His body was limp and lifeless, imitating the death he supposedly lived. Legs that wouldn’t hold him up, head that was bowed in hopelessness, he was a puppet hoisted by his captors, shoved into the coffin that would not house the dead. Or at least not the truly dead. The scream that finally broke his forced sleep and his stubborn silence was proof that something was still alive despite the lack of heartbeat and he could in fact feel the pain inflicted.
The spikes sunk into his flesh agonizingly slowly, the door of the coffin not closing completely yet. Into his body, pulling back for a moment and stabbing him more thoroughly, prying the wouds bigger, deeper. There was light through the crack of those doors. He would struggle but there was nowhere to struggle, packed into the coffin. He was incapable of moving. Incapable of thought even.
In his mind, the one that had refused to comprehend his unnatural life, he could now differentiate between pain and not pain. Finally. And even if his heart didn’t beat his blood did flow. It poured and leaked alternatively as the door mockingly squirmed on its hinges. The taunting glow of outside quivering with each motion along with the singsong squeak of the lid. Dead but his blood was so warm, sliding down his body almost seductively. He was dead but soon he’d be deader. “…Ted,” he whispered softly, a mocking replay of the last time he’d died. It was a moment of respite, the spikes buried in his body but not pulling back nor going deeper. He’d scream again in a moment when the torture resumed but for that moment he just remembered.
His scream echoed through the hollow catacomb in harmony with the melodic squeak and scrape of the iron maiden.
"Such a sweet sound this one makes," Astoreth purred at last. He had been watching the display with a bored expression, but yet, there was the slightest bit of intrigue in his eyes at the same time. From the moment his prey had been jammed into the elegant iron maiden, the man's screams filled him with the usual strange twinge of happiness, if he could call it that.
Stop it, brother, why can't you refuse that man's request for once? Please don't kill this one like you've killed the others.
The annoying voice of a woman pleaded inside his head, but Astoreth brushed it aside by focusing on the primal and horrified screams of the squirming man inside his beloved contraption. He began to wonder if it would have been better to put him in the other one with only one door of spikes or if this double-doored lady was the better one to use on this occasion. Sometimes, he found it more amusing to use the single-doored variation so that he could see his victim try to run away all the while bleeding all over the place and eventually collapsing, lost somewhere in the catacombs and hauled back later only to be displayed on the rack.
There was a large basin at the foot of the silent woman surrounding the screaming man to catch all the blood that spewed forth in ten streams that were formed on the casing to look like toes. Two similar, but smaller, basins were at waist level, where the hands of the maiden spouted fresh blood from the upper body within. The hooded figures moved about replacing the basins and pouring the fresh blood into metal barrels at the corner of the room that were each marked with a single black butterfly. One hooded man was refilling a long ladle with the fresh red liquid directly from the iron maiden's fingertips and bringing it to his lord's chalice which sat on a tall candle stand to the throne's right.
And as entertaining as this should be, Astoreth began to crave for something else again.
"I want him on the judas cradle," he commanded as roughly as his delicate voice would allow, and the attendants bowed their heads before hastily opening the metal coffin.
Bloodied, torn clothing was pulled roughly from his body. It was wet and dark with blood, clinging to Aldo like his skin. Each pull and tear was as if he was being skinned alive. The ropes that bound him rubbed against the puckered punctures, aggravating the wounds but there was no point in pulling away, nowhere to retreat since he was surrounded. His ankles were fastened to a metal bar, forcing his legs apart. Had he gone numb? If he’d his mind about maybe he would have flinched at the very least, felt some level of the humiliation and degradation but the blood loss had rendered him just short of mindless.
While his underlings heaved, pulled, and moved to set the naked human into proper restraints to be lifted up on top of the pyramid stool, Astoreth idly dipped his fingers into his blood chalice and licked slowly, savouring the sweet metallic taste each time. Occasionally, he would linger and swirl his tongue over his long nails, but he would always return his hand to the ever fresh supply of blood. The view of his new victim spread wide-eagled and bare made him, almost, feel something. He thought for a moment about what body parts to carve out. Should he go for internal organs, or should he just take out the non-vital muscles that would leave the victim lingering just centimeters away from death? Well the answer was easy, of course whichever would prolong the torture.
Besides, those parts would probably be best for serving at dinner too.
With just a silent nod from their lord, the cloaked figures cranked the pulleys that hoisted the body up in sudden and violent jerks, and when the V-shaped body was lifted high enough, a solo figure set a rancid pyramid-shaped wooden stool directly under the victim's anus. And then, the rest of the dark figures began to reverse the cranks.
Something crept into Astoreth's lips... something that would look natural if it weren't so evil. It was a real smile.
There was no merciful unconsciousness, no escape from the sudden intense pain. Whatever strength remained in Aldo’s body was put into violently lurching away from the violation even if the binds held him poised. Some strange stubbornness in him though held back that scream that threatened, teeth clamped against his cheek resulting in more of a hiss. So much blood already that the bit that trailed from his lips hardly made a difference. The taste of it was far from sweet though for Aldo.
He raised his head slightly, gaze seeking out his torturer for the first time. He caught sight of Astoreth as he was further pushed down.
Aldo closed his eyes though he couldn’t pass out, not with the way his body was pulled and contracted. It was like an animal that toyed needlessly with its prey. It didn’t make sense but even in nature it existed. He would…he wouldn’t survive this he had no doubt but he had no choice but to bear with the suffering. His breaths came in pants, each time he was moved against his will forced quiet cries of pain from him but he no had no more will or energy to scream.
Through lazy eyes, the red-haired man upon the throne caught the droopy gaze of his violated prey.
Look at me and acknowledge that I am your master, Astoreth purred in his mind, although if it had been voiced it would sound more like a hiss.
Stop it, brother! I can't bear to watch this any longer!
A strong force surged in him, but he held it back bitterly and bit hard into his own lip.
You will suffer it, woman, as I suffer your despicable desires. And watch this closely, close enough to feel the touch of his skin, he hissed angrily to himself. Whatever trace of a smile that was on his lips earlier had vanished completely only to be replaced by cruel spite. Astoreth got off his throne, hand lightly gripping the white snake around his shoulders, and he came to the suspended man's side.
"I want to see more blood," he said, tracing a finger along the bloody figure's long, muscled arm. "Lower."
The white snake in his hand slid from his grasp, up his arm, and wove its way around the warm, warm body above the cradle of love as the cranks were lowered another small notch with a violent thud.
More blood, as if he wasn’t already drained of it. How much more before death became a solid certainty. He couldn’t tell without a heart beat to smash it into his mind, his mental state the only thing to really judge by. He couldn’t get used to the pain of impalement but it was the unexpected touch against his bloodied arm that made him hiss in protest and then the slither of the white snake against him. It forced Aldo to look at the creature again, eye to eye this time, far too close for comfort. The relative peace he’d had inside the Soul Eater, the quiet company of the other souls that the rune had consumed. He wanted to sink his mind into that until he died again.
Eye contact with a serpent could either mean a mutual understanding between man and beast or one of the most dangerous thing one could do, and unfortunately for this human, it was the latter. Despite his man-like appearance, Astoreth was the farthest thing from a man there ever was. Holding his right hand out, one of his servants immediately fetched a large carving knife from the wall and placed the handle in his hand. With his free hand, he smeared blood from the human's arm down to his stomach, where he gave a strong push downwards, surprisingly strong for his tall but slender stature. Without breaking eye contact, he glided the carving knife swiftly across the man's bicep then paused short of slicing the entire piece off, causing even more blood to expel from the tense body. He repeated the gesture with the man's other arm then threw the blade to the floor when he was done. Splattered with fresh blood, Astoreth sucked his fingers clean and licked his lips.
"He'll make a good meal for them. Finish the job," Astoreth said with a dismissive wave as he retrieved the white, now bloodstained, snake and returned to his throne. Behind him, the filthy pyramid seat was nearly half buried inside the man who once wielded a bow and arrow.