4 comments/ 1230 views/ 11 favorites The Taming of Lucifer By: AnyaWVossand Chapter 1 You will leave this place. You will fly until your wings break, until your lungs burn, until your eyes are blinded by the dust and the wind. You may never come back to us, and if you try, we will kill you. The words felt like teeth in my heart and I could say nothing. All eyes were closed. None looked upon me, though ears listened to make sure I had left. It was not a fit of anger that made me change into my seraphic form. In it, I could fly farther with bigger muscles and larger lungs – a giant serpent of black with six resplendent wings. My command was to leave, and so I did. I left my family, my home, my lovers. Gone. All gone, and hating me. Familiar canyons, valleys, and ridgeways soon melted into unfamiliar lands. I flew in a straight line, gaining altitude to bypass even the highest peaks. The air was thin and my eyes hurt, so I closed them and flew blindly. There was nothing I would run into at that altitude and it didn't matter where I went. I think I slept on the wing, for I would suddenly wake in a different place, still airborn. My eyes wept, the tears freezing on my thickly-scaled cheeks and still I didn't notice. My stomach cramped and growled with hunger – I don't know how many days I hadn't eaten, flying among the clouds. Up at that altitude the sun had been fierce and bright. It made my blood course through my veins like a river in flood, speeding my metabolism and working my flesh to death. When I started to fall from the sky I was barely conscious, and the impact upon the water was the only thing that saved my body from breaking completely. Suddenly awake and submerged, my great head breached the water's surface, the cold fluid waking up my exhausted senses. There was still ice chipping off my face as I gasped for air. My six wings were sodden and too heavy to maneuver the torrent so I dove, seeking the rocky riverbed. I gripped the stones stuck within the mud to pull myself slowly to shore, despite the current. There, upon the wet sand, I lay for a long time catching my breath, drying off, and warming up. I was delirious, hardly aware, though I do recall the cries of vultures and carrion birds circling me. I must have reeked of death. One, bolder than the others, began to peck at my eyelid, searching for the soft flesh beneath it. On reflex I snapped at it. The bird was down my gullet before it was fully dead, and I lay still again. I was not bothered by the carrion birds after that. I cannot tell how long I lay there on that muddy river bank. Days and weeks all seemed the same to me. Opening my carmine eyes every few days, I looked around myself at times. Scrubby turf lined the lips of the broad river that I'd fallen into. Reeds and plush grasses grew in thick and verdant patches, and in between them were jutting sandstone rocks and pebbled terrain that sank soon into mud near the water. Insects buzzed and droned around me during the day, and crickets and the little mice chirped in the evening. When I lifted my head, I could see mountains cupping the valley I'd fallen into, looming up like rusty teeth over the flat, dry terrain. And looming over those ridges of rock were light and beautiful clouds speaking of an abundance of water. It was a miracle, now that I think about it, that no humans came upon me during my muddy convalescence. Fortune had plunged me into one of the wild areas where the nearest thing to danger were the hyenas. The giggle and shriek of them greeted my ears every time I moved. I was getting stronger day by day, enough to snap up and eat any of the stupid animals that ventured near enough. In time I lifted myself completely free of the water and began to crawl like a worm for shelter. I crawled for a very long time until I found a deep cave. In this place I hauled my long, weak body, which by now was painful to move. My once glorious form was disgustingly emaciated, the flesh melted away, feathers dry and ruined on a body large enough to have wrapped about an elephant and suffocate within my coils. In the dark of the cave I curled up and slept. I had drunk enough by the river to last for weeks, but I was still terribly hungry. No creature entered my cave. They smelled the scent of my great body and the odor of my starvation on my exhaled breath. In truth, I would have lunged blindly for anything that had walked inside. Perhaps I did – I was not always lucid during this time. I remember waking to find lumps within my length, swallowed animals, fur stuck between my needle-like teeth even though I couldn't remember having fed. It served, though. I recovered my strength and left the cave to bask in the sun, stretching all of my wings towards the warm rays. I was slowly coming alive again, and as my flesh filled out I returned to the river to drink and to hunt. The hippos were at first too strong and dangerous with their tusks, but I learned that if I caught them off guard I was able to overcome their ferocity. They served as my main source of flesh, and soon enough those great, dangerous tusks littered the floor of my cave. I was proud of my decorations, setting them upright in rows along the interior, almost like a gate. I grew fatter and more content to live as a beast. The past lay forgotten as my body let instinct take over. And over the course of decades I gladly let it happen. I felt I had no future among the Host, and I had already seized my place as the apex predator along this stretch of the river. All seemed right with the world in my basic, feral existence. The language and songs of my people faded from my memory. The way I had been looked at lovingly, spoken to kindly and with deference, it was all harder and harder to recall. The memories of the infant seraphim growing up into beautiful adults disappeared. It was all leaving me and I was pleased to let it. That was not my world anymore. I was no longer the prince of the Host; I was a monster, and I reveled in it. Chapter 2 And then the humans came to my lands. I could smell them on the wind before I ever heard them, and so could the other animals. The stupid beasts approached the men to investigate, but few returned. That these stinking, chatty humans could hunt was the only thing that caught my interest. I had never smelled apes before, and I had never seen man. All I knew was that there was a troupe of them, and that they killing my prey. It merited an investigation. One evening when the desert was lit by a sliver of moon, I flew high up in the sky to see if I could find just where this community of humans was living. The search didn't take long – they had lit fires to ward off the night creatures, and such points of light were visible from miles away. These little creatures had discovered fire? I was amazed and flew lower. The scent of cooking food wafted up over their camp site, as did the acrid odor of their bodies and their waste. They had animals with them, too, things I'd later learn were horses. From this height I couldn't make out the shape of these apes, but clearly they were haughty like lions. They didn't eat every piece of their prey, leaving precious scraps behind for scavengers to feast upon. Carrion birds and crows gave me a wide berth, though I could tell they were here to pick clean the rubbish left behind. I didn't need such arrogant, dirty animals living near my territory. They would surely leave their stink in every corner, keeping my food away until the next rains. And the rains weren't due for months yet. No, they had to go. I grinned to myself – scattering predators was always amusing for me. My body tucked into itself like an enormous obsidian dart as I plunged down through the clouds, faster and faster towards their firepit. What I thought had been stones turned out to be huts, and this puzzled me for a moment, right before I landed upon the flaming coals. Sparks exploded everywhere. Burning wood and splinters exploded all around me. The original fire died under my bulk and did me no harm, my scales impervious to heat. One of the huts behind me was crushed under the weight of my lower half, a sweep of my tail sending scraps of wood and cloth off into the darkness. I plunged the top joints of my wings into the sandy ground, punching a deep boom into the earth that reverberated for miles. Gripping claws grew from each of those joints and kneaded the ground as I seethed and looked around me with my glowing red eyes. The horses, tied to those huts that hadn't been destroyed, screamed and reared up to paw at their bindings. Some lucky few tore themselves free and bolted away. I'm sure I looked like a hellish god, underlit by fire and destruction, and that suited me just fine. The humans rushed out soon enough, screams and shouts greeting the first sight of my tremendous body. I knew I was terrifying – my cobra-like hood of feathers was out, my wings fluffed, my body inflated with air to make it look as big as possible. I truly didn't need to indulge in theatrics; my body was already 30 meters long from nose to tail, my skull alone nearly the length of one of these human creatures. I lowered my great head and roared into their faces, my voice like a terrible screaming storm. Some of the humans ran by me in their panic, and I snapped at them with my jaws. Those that didn't run tried to make me go away with pathetic little stones or pieces of burning wood. Whether bravery or stupidity, I quickly lunged my head at one of their yelling bodies. It was soft and dirty and sour, and it died as soon as my jaws crushed together. I threw it aside and attacked another, and another. They died so easily! Soon the human camp was a waste, the survivors long gone into the desert night. An unfortunate horse had broken its leg in its struggle to untie itself, and I killed it and feasted upon it as I examined the bodies of these new human creatures. Their shape reminded me of my kin, and I flipped each one onto its stomach to check for any sign of wings, but there were none. They stank, they were stupid, and they were disfigured. I refused to eat them and simply left the bodies where they had fallen. Weighed down with delicious horse flesh, I made my way back to the cave to think. These creatures had shouted words to each other and at me. They had a language, and they looked angelic in a very distant way. These must have been the creatures in question, the humans, the whole reason I had been exiled. I did not feel rage, but rather an almost righteous validation. I had been right! These stupid animals were in no way ready to be given control of the earth. They were delicate and cowardly. They stank and were wasteful. I gave no more thought to them for a long while. That is, until they found me. It had been several days and I was hungry – their horses had been the last thing I'd eaten. I was at the river, basking and looking for a likely target. The humans were downwind of me and must have been there before me, because I hadn't seen or heard anything arrive after I did. Suddenly my eyes lit on the carcass of a dead goat floating in the middle of the water. The river was distressingly barren that day, so I stupidly decided to take what I could get and descended upon it with a splash. Various marsh birds flew up from the reeds in a panic as I landed, and I ignored the rustling of the grasses nearby until it was too late. Long, heavy spears suddenly rained down upon me, most of them hitting their mark. I panicked and looked to see who was throwing them, but they seemed to come from the grasses all around me, plunging into my sides, my wings, and my neck. One even landed in my open mouth and pierced my tongue. My blood was everywhere, staining the riverbank a frothing red as I struggled to pull the spears out of my body with my mouth. My nose was filled with the coppery smell of my wounds and I could no longer scent the air. In a desperate attempt, I tried to fly away, but I couldn't get far off the ground with my sodden wings. I fell back onto the shore and I could do nothing else but wretchedly crawl like a lizard back to my cave, leaving a clear, sanguine trail behind me. The humans quickly found it and, rather than finishing me off immediately, they waited outside my cave for days. I knew that if I approached them I might scare them off, but I also knew that it would only take only one last spear to fell me. With no way out and no moves made by my attackers, I famished and bled and waited in the darkness, seething and made craven by my pain and weakness. I had been outwitted. Dejectedly I turned my great body deeper into the cave until I hit the back wall. There I lay my head in the sand and I waited for the end. It was at night that I noticed the shrill cries of bats through a small fissure right at the level of my eye. I couldn't fit through that small space as the giant seraphim, but perhaps in my smaller form I could. Summing up the very last of my energies, I closed my eyes and willed my body to change. The world grew larger and larger as I shrank. My wounds, though smaller, hurt terribly as they began to misalign. My normally white flesh was marbled with bruises, cuts, and punctures. My mouth felt inflamed and tasted like copper. And as I changed that one last time to save myself, I felt something in my spirit break off and dissolve. At that moment I was too desperate and tired to understand what had happened, but in time I would learn of what I had sacrificed. To my horror, even my smaller form couldn't fit through the crevice. I pushed so hard that I'm sure my shoulders were scraped raw before I gave up, exhausted, hurting, and hungry. The humans must have dared to come in after hearing silence for a long enough period. Perhaps they thought they'd come across a dead dragon. I can only imagine their surprise upon discovering a small, wounded body that resembled theirs. Dawn light reddened the inside of my closed eyelids when I awoke. I was moving, though I was laying on a cool surface. The scent and sound of horses was very close. Upon opening my eyes I discovered that I was on a grain sledge, and that I was bound with woven cording. It didn't make much difference then if I was bound or not – I was so weak and hurt that walking wasn't possible, let along escaping. I closed my eyes and willed myself to change back into the seraphim, but that power had abandoned me. I was trapped in a weak, damaged body, and I was at their mercy. Chapter 3 The next few days were a blur, during which time I mostly slept. Occasionally I was wakened at night and force fed something wet and hot that tasted like soaked grass. After a diet of meat for nearly forty years, this vegetation didn't sit well with my small body at all, but I began to put on weight regardless. When I was strong enough, my captors enticed me with fish from the river or dead birds or hares. At first I would listlessly chew on them until the skin split, then I licked at the meat until it came away into my mouth, but eventually starvation would win out and I was tearing at it like a starved hyena. My little teeth were blunt and weak, and I often grew frustrated at how long it took to feed – I had been in the shape of a seraph for so long that I had forgotten what it was like to be this way. The humans would watch me in fascination, and I suppose I looked very strange to them. I had a supple, slim body with pure white skin that never tanned, no genitals at all, and black hair and red eyes. Right then those features were hard to make out, given how my body was plastered with mud, blood, dirt, and various other types of offal that I hadn't even thought to scrape off. My hair, short at that time, was plastered to my head with the clay from the soil. Anytime someone came near me I hissed at them and screamed like an animal, knowing no other way to defend myself. I was bound, helpless, and terrified. Little by little my strength returned, and I was eventually made to walk along with the caravan with my slim wrists tied to the grain sledge. We traveled for miles every day, and at first my feet were bleeding and blistered, but they toughened fast. The tracts of desert and savanna were endless and seemed to melt one into the other. I fought a few times against my captivity, but each and every time I was beaten down until I had curled up into a shivering ball. I still couldn't change back into the seraphim. It was as if the tremendous privation and despair had sealed off that body and wouldn't allow me access to it anymore, just as my mind had nearly shut out any memories of having been with the Host. Every night I willed my flesh to change. I would strain for hours, but nothing would ever happen and in the morning I'd only be sore and under-slept. Every day I would be more weary than the day before, and I felt increasingly helpless. Was this my ultimate fate? Where I was once the prince of my kin, I was now treated worse than the horses of these apes. One night we stopped by a river delta and my captors set up camp. It looked as if there were other caravans stopping there, too, and the scent of other humans besides my own filled my nose. The humiliating thought of being looked at made me renew my struggles, and as always the largest of the beast handlers would grab me by the throat and yell his barbaric language into my face before using a strap of hide on me. The crack of it made the horses afraid, and the pain made my knees buckle. Back then I was new to this kind of treatment, and the pain was difficult to bear. That night I was left kneeling behind the grain sledge, shivering and suffering. I wasn't paying attention to any of the humans until one of the younger men was crouched before me. I knew this one – he had brought me fish and had been the one who had made me eat at the beginning. I hated him the least, though I still hated him. To my surprise, he untied my rope from the sledge and urged me to my feet with gentle tugs and softer words. He was stopped by the beast handler and I shrank back, hissing, though the young man stood his ground. He gestured to the river, and the beast handler began to yell again. The young man didn't give in, and he eventually got his way. I was led down to the river and encouraged to walk into the water. It was cold but refreshing, especially on my wretched feet. The relief must have been plain to see because my rescuer started to smile. Somehow he coaxed me in to the level of my waist and let me clean myself. It was difficult with my wrists still tied, but I managed it. I pulled at the bonds when it looked like he was about to touch me, but he quickly relented, and I calmed again. He brought me then to the fire and tied me to a cart near to it so that I might dry off. I was given a bowl of water and some of that wretched gruel, although he had also brought some sweet-tasting hard cake. This was very pleasant, and I chewed on it for a long time, allowing him to sit and watch me. He spoke but I ignored him, finding his language brutish and pointless. I had no interest in learning it, though he seemed to be persisting with a single word. He would say "Arad" and gesture to himself, then look at me expectantly. As I chewed on my cake it occurred to me that he might be telling me his name. I eyed him suspiciously for a moment, picking the cake out of my teeth with my tongue. My throat was dry as I said, "L'Laiya," and gestured to myself. Arad grinned and clapped his hands once with excitement. His action was so quick that I startled, pulling to the end of my rope in an instant with a hiss. He shook his head and laughed, speaking softly again and including my name. In time I returned to my spot in the sand, not quite sure what to do. These creatures had names, did they? Perhaps they weren't as stupid as I'd thought. The Taming of Lucifer And... they'd caught me. That had been a crushing blow. I didn't feel like talking or listening to him anymore, and I looked away from him, resting my arms on my knees and laying my head upon them. Arad took the hint and left, taking my empty bowls with him. The next morning I was taken to the river again by Arad and was allowed to bathe after I had eaten. It felt very good to be clean, and I may have even smiled. But my pleasure wilted as the head of the caravan yelled for Arad, and the young man lowered his head and quickly led me to shore. My rope was taken from him and I was led towards the other camps, with Arad bringing up the rear. I looked back at him, but his expression wasn't reassuring. At the first camp, what must have been their headman came out to look at me. When he tried to touch my face I snarled and bit at him, my teeth just barely missing his hand. The headman of my own caravan hit me across the face and bellowed something at me and I looked away. I was touched again, and again I fought, and again with the same result. The other caravan members began to laugh, with cries of 'Ulu! Ulu!' ringing out. Arad looked insulted and yelled back at them, but they only kept laughing. We went on to the next caravan with a healthy portion of the last group following us. I got the impression that I was something very different, because the headman of this caravan wished to touch me as well. It was as if they couldn't believe that I was real. This time I let him, standing still and silent for a little while. Though when his face was near my own as he caressed my cheeks and throat, I lunged forward and viciously headbutted him. I was very dizzy, but the headman of that caravan stumbled back a few steps, shocked and bleeding from the nose. I gave him a hateful look and stood still again, smirking. That would teach these apes to touch me. The headman of our caravan quickly dragged me back to the grain sledge and handed me over to the beast handler, who left me broken and shaking on the ground within minutes. Arad, too, was punished, perhaps for having encouraged my disobedience. But at the communal fire that night, I heard the word 'Ulu' bandied about again and again, along with hearty laughs. They occasionally looked back at me as I watched them, and I turned away to sulk in the shadow of the grain sledge. I didn't see Arad for a few days, and in this time I was greatly neglected, the beast handler thinking starvation would make me more mild. I had enough water, but my teeth gnashed when I smelled the scents of cooking nearby. Soon the tents were being dismantled, and I watched impassively from the shadow of the sledge cart, thinking of nothing but my empty belly. At the end of those few days, the beast handler walked over to me and dragged me to my feet. I followed him to the last caravan we had visited those nights previous, and I stood there while they discussed something. That word 'Ulu' came up many times, and I grew bored and looked around. The humans in this caravan leered at me and laughed as they worked, whistling and gesturing obscene things that I didn't yet understand. Coins exchanged hands and my rope was given over, to my great surprise, to Arad who had run up from behind some tents. I looked up at him, confused, but he smiled at me and led me away. I never saw the other caravan again. Chapter 4 This caravan was obviously wealthier – it was larger, and had more animals and more food. Arad and I walked behind a cart filled with bundled goods, some purchased from our old caravan. That first morning as we walked back into the desert, I looked over at him and awkwardly said "Arad, rauhayleh..." My voice was hoarse, but it must have been like music to my companion, because he smiled widely and started speaking to me very quickly. I blinked and took a few steps away, not knowing what he was so excited about. I suppose he was surprised I could speak any language at all. From that point on we began to learn how to communicate with each other. He pointed out something, like the sky or his ear, and I would offer the right word in my language, and in time I began to point to things so that I might learn his language, too. I was a much faster learner than he was, and I began to learn his language, Sumerian, over the weeks that we walked. I learned that Arad was my handler now, and I could tell that he protected me from the others. He told me that 'Ulu' meant 'demon', and that the other humans were certain that I was one due to how I looked. I tried to tell him that I wasn't a demon, but I didn't have enough fluency then to explain well enough what I truly was. As protective as Arad could be, he couldn't fend off the entire caravan. One night after sundown, a group of the large workers came to us during our dinner and spoke to Arad, smirking. Arad immediately stood up and placed himself between myself and them. I listened to the men and could just make out that I was wanted by the headman, for 'bed'. I didn't understand what this meant, but Arad did and he was angry. Yet against the group of them he could do nothing, and I was dragged away. The rough, dirty hands of the men gripped at my shoulders and the back of my neck, pushing me towards the biggest tent. Inside it a few candles were lit, revealing relatively opulent surroundings compared to the rest of the camp. Rugs covered the floor, as did pillows. The headman, a stout and hairy creature that lived better than the rest of his staff, sat among these niceties bared to the waist. I eyed him suspiciously until I was summarily forced to my hands and knees before him, my face pushed to the carpet near his feet. A piece of leather was fitted quickly around my neck, and a balled up cloth was put in my mouth as a gag so I couldn't bite. I screamed past the cloth and struggled and fought as much I could, but the men were there to prevent my escape. The headman simply laughed and let me exhaust myself, enjoying my rage. The headman spoke softly, and I could smell his arousal. I felt disgusted by it. Did he actually mean to mate with me?! I was held to the ground by his men, and the headman kept touching my face and body. Each time I struggled, he persisted until I finally learned that struggling was pointless. Ropes had been attached to my collar, and the men behind me pulled on them to make me kneel upright. I reached for the collar with my bound hands, but they were gripped by the headman and forced down between my legs. The rope that had been attached to my wrists was fed back through my thighs, along the cleft of my buttocks, up along my spine, and slipped through my collar from behind to be handed back to one of the men. Any struggling I did with my arms would only chafe me and leave me coughing. It took a while to find a position which didn't unhinge my shoulders or cut off my air entirely. Looking back on it now, I'm sure the position made me look stunning. My spine was arched so that my chin almost rested on my chest, my knees pressed to the rug and parted while my backside rested on my heels. There was nowhere I could go, no escape from my torment, and so I closed my eyes as I growled in frustration. His hands touched me everywhere, caressed everywhere, making my flesh twitch with disgust. He seemed fascinated with the bare expanse of flesh between my thighs, which he touched in wonderment for a long while. Unlike these human beings, I have no openings there, save for the one between my buttocks to expel waste. The men behind me grunted and chuckled, murmuring 'Ulu' under their breath. Eventually the headman waved a hand at the guards, and they removed my gag and the ties about my wrist, made sure my collar was secure about my neck, and lead me back to Arad at the end of a rope leash like a dog. They tossed the rope to him and laughed heartily, though I wasn't paying any attention. When they were gone, and Arad tried to ask me if I was hurt, I panicked and screamed at him, straining to the end of my rope. He didn't try to speak to me for the rest of the evening, and I didn't speak to him. When the sun rose the next morning, my hatred for all humanity began to thaw just enough that Arad and I could exchange a few words. It was clear he felt guilty, but I felt angry and betrayed. As I write this now, I know that there was nothing he could have done for me then, but at that time I didn't understand. I was still so naive back then. That evening I was called for again, and once more I was bound immovably and touched. Every night for the next few nights this occurred until I finally stopped fighting and tried to forget it was happening to me. I would imagine myself flying freely, or sleeping in a warm pile with my lovers in the Host, or sunning lazily after a chilly night. But I'd always wake up to the headman's hot, excited body. There was no escape from that. Every night he would touch me, not just his hands but also his mouth, and eventually his body. The guards would always be there to keep me from struggling. The headman's grunting, fetid breath washed over my face as he kissed it and licked at my neck and at my ear. He would touch my hair and murmur things that I didn't understand. Those nights, the touches didn't hurt and didn't go inside, but over time they did. I would be returned to Arad at the end of every evening's session angrier, more disgusted, and increasingly damaged. The miles of walking during the day began to be painful, then excruciating as I was mounted unwilling every night and left bleeding. Sometimes the guards were allowed to use me, to drive the lesson home about how to please a human male. My consciousness flitted away sometimes and I would wake up later, bleeding and lying on my side, reeking of human sweat and slippery with spent lust. Arad would always do his best to tend to my hurts and clean me, but it was becoming too much for me to bear. At one point I stopped eating, hoping to die so that the abuse might end, but Arad was forced to make me eat. I hated him for it then, but I'm grateful now. One night I lay wrapped in blankets by our private fire, trying to let the bleeding from my backside to stop, and Arad was combing my hair and singing gently to me. I had learned that he'd been a shepherd when he was a boy, but his family was poor and had sold him to the caravan. He'd been used as I was being used now, but that was years ago. My heart was heavy like a stone and I gained little comfort from our shared misery. He put the little bundle of sticks away that served for a comb and checked under the blanket. I winced as he applied some more salve to my wounds, though I didn't move. He told me that I would become tougher there in time and it would hurt less. I closed my eyes and curled up tighter. "No. No more. I can't do this." "L'laiya please!" Arad shook my shoulder and looked down at me, and I turned my gaze listlessly towards him. "Please, just listen. They will take you anyway, but if you go along with it, if you seduce them, they won't have to tie you with ropes. Perhaps the headman will send the men away if he doesn't need them to hold you down." His face looked hopeful, but I didn't believe it. The next night was all the same. I was bound and gagged and forced to submit to the headman. He wasted no time and began to pull off his pants. The sight of his genitals, stiffened with arousal, made me shudder, but I suddenly remembered what Arad had said. Taking in a deep breath, I looked up at the headman without my typically hateful expression, softening my demeanor as well as I could. My body relaxed, and I knelt there looking up at him expectantly. Obediently. I didn't fight against my bonds; I only waited. He seemed very puzzled, though after a few moments I could see he was pleased. At his command, the guards slowly fed the rope back out through my collar to free my bound hands, and I still didn't struggle, only shifting to sit more comfortably on my heels. Slowly, very slowly I reached for the gag in my mouth. One of the guards behind me made ready to strike me, but the headman gestured quickly for him to stay his hand. At that signal from his superior, the guard stopped, and I pulled the cloth gag from my mouth and dropped it on the rug by my knees. I worked the cramp out of my jaw and tried to wet my tongue once more before I looked at the headman to see what he thought of it all. He seemed even more intrigued, and on a whim he had one of his men tie the collar rope to the main post of the tent to let me move if I wished. I looked over at the pole and the rope, then back at the guards, and then finally back at the headman, who was watching me with fascination. I couldn't bring myself to approach him, but I knelt there obediently, hiding my loathing of him. Of course I still felt it, but I was learning self-control. The headman came over and walked around me, caressing my hair, touching my face and my shoulders. I could smell his growing musk at each pass. I allowed it, looking down demurely, even closing my eyes as if I enjoyed it. Truly, I did prefer these lighter touches to brute force. The headman barked a quick word to the guards and they left the tent, leaving us alone together. "Aha, Demon. You're starting to learn..." he said with a chuckle, Moving in closer and granting me the sight of his stiffly erect organ. He hadn't bathed in a long time, and his scent was pungent. Still, I forced myself to try and do as Arad had said. Very slowly I leaned forward and nuzzled against his leg, my heart pounding with fear. This seemed to please him, for he stood a little closer and offered his genitals for the same attention. I held my breath and nuzzled them too, and his erection twitched. His calloused hand took a hold of my chin and his thumb slid over my lips, encouraging me to open my mouth. This, truthfully, was more gentle than the guards had ever been outside, and I did as he desired willingly. That night I wasn't mounted, and I wasn't hurt (save for a cramp in my jaw). I was disgusted, yes, but I was in no pain. Arad had been right. That evening saw the start of my career as a pleasure slave. Arad and I were treated better by the caravan, given our own tent, better food, and better bedding. The improvement in our situation showed in my body; my hair regained its luster and grew out again to my shoulders, and the wing designs within my back appeared glossy and clear beneath my skin. I had tried to manifest them to no avail, but even if I could have done so, I had vowed never to let my captors see it. No human would ever be worth the sight of them – they were my only link to my own heritage and I guarded that last scrap of my identity fiercely, even as my human masters groomed me as their pet. Chapter 5 One whole year upon the Earth had passed during my captivity, though of course to me it seemed like no time at all. I marveled as the humans around me visibly aged and withered. Even within the space of a year I could see the change in everyone, how time seemed to drain at them like a million biting flies. The only one who didn't seem to wither was Arad, who only grew taller and more muscular. He never stopped being gentle and kind, even after he surpassed my own height by a head. During this time I became fluent in their language, which proved to be complex. I also noticed tablets in the headman's tent, and when he was in a particularly good mood he would allow me to look at them more closely. It seemed that humans had surpassed the ephemeral qualities of spoken speech by recording it on clay, and I was admittedly fascinated by the idea. Not even the Host had developed writing. I begged Arad to teach me to read, but he didn't know how. No one in the caravan did. The headman's tablets were for vanity only. Just about the time of the seasonal rains, our caravan came to a city. I didn't know that humans congregated in such numbers – in fact, I didn't know there were so many human beings in the world at all. I could smell the reek of bustling humanity before I could hear it. Everyone in the caravan was excited except for Arad, because he knew what was coming. I believe then that I knew, too, but I had become so attached to Arad that I was avoiding such thoughts. The city itself was a collection of adobe and stone buildings clustered on a high table of land overlooking the Euphrates river. It has since been lost to time, but back then it was a hub for traders and nomads. It was a repository of gathered wealth, and the beginning and culmination of year-long circuits around the mountains. A few kilometers before we reached this city, the caravan halted and Arad was called up to the front. I remained behind, tied to the goods cart as always by the wrists. I was very puzzled, and Arad could only shrug his shoulders and run off to find out what was needed. Soon enough he returned and I was taken down to the river and bathed. It felt good to rid myself of the road dust and grit caked to my legs and feet, though I found it very strange to be swaddled in a large piece of cloth afterward. Up until then I hadn't worn any clothing at all and fared well, my flesh tougher than a human's. Initially I balked at the prospect of such chaffing restriction, but Arad's instructions had been clear. I had to be clothed, and my face had to be hidden by a cowl. The outfit was suffocating in the heat, and my only solace was Arad's apologetic expression as he wrapped me up with only my feet showing. This city was without a wall, but it was not unprotected. Only one narrow causeway wrapped around the base of the messa on which the population lived, safe from all attackers by dint of a large gate and armed guardsmen. Our numerous carts and wagons were arranged single-file so that the headman's was at the front and the wagons with valuables were kept towards the middle of the procession. The fiercest of the headman's guards walked alongside the carts, and Arad and I were placed directly in the center, surrounded and protected by everyone in our group. In this way we entered through the gates and into the city. A few looks were passed our way by the more curious folk, their interests piqued by more than just the arrival of new and exotic wares. Our mystique must have grown quickly, because all of the local children were running along side, pointing at my white feet and then running off again. And as I looked into the sea of dirty legs ranging in color from sand to shadow, my bone-white, perfectly clean feet must have been something of an oddity. I could understand now why the rest of my body was covered – had they seen any more details, we may have been harassed by more than just the children. A corner of the city housed the animals and goods, and while the majority of our caravan bedded down in the shabby boarding rooms, the headman brought Arad and I to the wealthier section at the very top of the hill where he was lodging. That night was like every night, but this time Arad was forced to be present while the headman took his pleasures from me. It was more difficult with Arad there, even though I was doing just as he'd advised me to do. But a pained look strained his eyes, and he was most often looking at his hands or away at something else. I also tried not to look at him, and realized that this was out of shame. After my use, I was sent away with Arad into an adjoining room to be cleaned, fed, and bedded down for the night. It was very cold in that room with no fire to warm me, and I became unwell. Perhaps it had been the sights, the sounds, and the smells all assaulting me for hours on end, but I had no desire to eat and I felt very tired. Arad knew that the cold hurt me more than it did other people, so he wrapped me in a blanket and then awkwardly drew me into his lap. I stiffened immediately and felt the urge to struggle, but that subsided within a heartbeat and I gave in to his warmth. This was more prolonged contact than I'd ever had with a human being outside of the headman, and I wondered at my lack of disgust. There had been that momentary panic, but that had died and was replaced by a calmed comfort. It was nice to be held by Arad, and I soon began to lose consciousness. Vague memories of being fed honeyed gruel and water flitted through my mind before I fell distinctly into a dreamless sleep. The Taming of Lucifer I was fed and groomed around dawn, and then the headman summoned us both. He put a finer collar on me than I ever wore before, with a leather strap attached rather than a hemp rope, and he bound my wrists behind my back. We were told to wait in the side room until we were called for. As I listened I could hear the sound of other humans speaking with the headman, but I couldn't understand everything they said. I glanced at Arad occasionally, but he looked tense. His head quickly lifted like a frightened gazelle when we were called for, and I was summarily led into the Headman's chambers. Blue and aromatic smoke coiled from ashy wicks arranged in clay pots. Other humans besides the headman sat on the plush rugs on the floor, sipping tea and eating sweets from copper dishes. Clearly the headman wanted to impress these people. To my eyes it seemed like they were dressed far better than he was, in finer fabrics that were less torn and more brightly colored. When I entered I was naked and clean, all of my body a white that almost looked blue in the shadows of the sunlit room. The other humans simply sat and looked at me, and no one spoke for a long while. At a soft word from the headman, Arad turned me around to let them see the wing design on my back, now completely crisp and clear. This brought some of the men to their feet, and all were tense but eager. Facing them again I began to grow nervous as the hunger in their eyes burned. "How beautiful," one of the men said. "It has a woman's face but a boy's body," another whispered. "No, its flesh is strange... there are no genitals at all," A third murmured. Before I knew it they were all on their feet, looking down at me, touching me, and talking in hot whispers. I felt hands, chapped and dry, touching me everywhere and it soon became too much. I launched myself away from the crowd to the limit of my leash. It choked me but I didn't stop scrabbling for the open window overlooking the market place. Hideous shrieks issued from my throat, past my bared teeth, my red eyes glowing with hatred, confusion, and fear. Arad tried to calm me but at that moment I wasn't aware of him. Nothing made sense to me. I only knew my rage and my desire to flee from these human beings that had debased me to this. The headman gave one resounding yell and struck me fully across the face, silencing me. I was shocked at the pain and, with my hands bound, I couldn't protect my face when he kicked my legs out from under me. My head crashed into the carpet at his feet with a sickening crack and I felt the headman's sandal at the nape of my neck as I curled up into a shaking ball. There was a murmur among the other men and a long wait in silence before another figure entered into the room. I could just see the stooped bundle of rags from where I was pinned, my eyes dilated and shivering with concussion and tears. This human didn't smell the same as all the others. Ancient hands touched my body everywhere, a wheezing respiration close to my head while those limbs moved. Eventually I looked up at the face and wondered how this creature was still alive – it looked ancient. It coughed once and then stood up, dry bones and trinkets clinking over its clothing as it moved. In the driest, most choked voice imaginable, it intoned: "They are gloomy, their shadow dark, no light is in their bodies. Ever they slink along covertly, walk not upright, from their claws drips bitter gall, their footprints are evil venom... Neither males are they nor females, they are winds ever sweeping along, they have not wives, engender not children, know not how to show mercy, hear not prayer and supplication..." I didn't understand what the ancient one was talking about, but everyone else in the room became silent and stared at me. Even Arad seemed afraid, though I couldn't directly see his face. A very slow, quiet conversation started up between the rich men and the headman, who lifted his foot from me and let me curl up in the corner of the room. Arad knelt next to me, examining my head and fussing a little too much. He'd seen me hurt worse, and I didn't understand his concern then. The talking lasted into the evening. The ancient human, who Arad informed me was female, took her slow leave just as the sun was setting. I could see that she'd prefer to have me destroyed without delay, but I can thank the greed and avarice of the merchants for saving my life that day. One merchant left the room, then another, until only two remained along with the headman as the stars rose bright in the sky. The two merchants seemed to be in a heated argument while the headman smugly watched. Finally one of them shouted some blasphemy and left the room, the last man looking very pleased with himself. He had his servant bring in food for the evening meal, and instructed us to be fed as well. My wrists were finally untied, much to my relief. This rich man's food was very good and it was the first time I had ever tried wine. I didn't care for it, though Arad did. The rich man and the headman discussed many things, and I came to realize soon that all these matters regarded my husbandry. I watched them speak, listened in on the conversation, until the rich man laughed and gestured at me. "Look at it – it's like the demon can understand us!" The headman chuckled and nodded. "I think it can understand a few things..." He smiled lasciviously and murmured some commands he used during the evenings, and the rich man laughed again. They finished their meal and parted ways, and to my surprise that night I wasn't called for. Arad had taken too much wine and was asleep soon after we lay down, so I simply curled up on my mat and slept too. Morning heralded a flurry of activity. Arad wasn't feeling well and I could only sit there and gaze out the window overlooking the small market square as the headman ordered workers about. This was the first marketplace I'd ever seen, and from my height of about three stories from the plaza's stone floor I was able to look at everything. Colorful displays of spices and fabrics caught my attention, as did the glint of highly-polished copper trinkets and cups and tea kettles. Wicker cages held little animals or birds, while vendors sold fresh meat hanging from cords to dry in the sun. Skinny stray dogs wandered about to chase at the rats that tried to steal bits of grain, and little wild birds pecked at pieces of straw and string to take away for their nests. Wind chimes crafted from bones, wood, and metal clinked and played music with the breeze and children laughed as they ran back and forth to chase the dogs. I was entranced. The headman came in once and kicked Arad in the stomach to wake him, which only made him curl up and groan. Arad eventually came to life to feed and bathe me, but his fog cleared immediately as an unfamiliar man came in and started dressing me in a belted black robe with short sleeves and a hem that caressed at my knees. My constant companion would have none of it and refused to cooperate, going so far as to grab this stranger by the wrists and push him away. Some men from our caravan held Arad back and beat him to the floor, and it took many other men to restrain me as I tried to protect him. After I was held down and dressed I was quickly led out. I strained to look over my shoulder and see if Arad would follow, but he didn't. All was unfamiliar as these new men pulled me along, pushing away onlookers who caught sight of my face and my ruby eyes. I understand now that the rich man was fueling the rumors that he himself possessed a real demon, and this morning started his celebrity among the nomads. I was brought to his rented room and tied to a ring in the wall in the corner, and I overheard that the rich man's caravan would be heading out soon. Their main trade, me, had been made, and they weren't going to delay their circuit anymore. That afternoon we set out and I never saw Arad again. Chapter 6 The rich man was different than the headman. I could tell that he held more influence and was clearly more wealthy. He was also more educated, and I soon learned that he could actually read and write. The caravan headed south along the river, and it was the fifth day after our departure from the city that I was called for. Handlers groomed me, dressed me in a tunic of dark red and black cloth, and bound me very securely. They had no desire to risk their leader being harmed. They had nothing to fear – I remembered Arad's lesson and didn't fight when I was led into the rich man's tent and tied to one of the four central poles. I took this opportunity to study my new owner's personal surroundings. It was a tent large enough to house at least twenty seated people. The floors were covered in various overlapping thick rugs and a large number of chests, casks, rolled up fabrics, and sealed jars were arranged neatly at the edges of the shelter. Four poles held the roof aloft, and various oil lamps and sweetly smoking censors hung from the cross-bars high above my head. A gentle wind caused the looser canvas to billow and flap lazily. My eyes eventually fell upon the man himself, who was dressed for the evening in simple black robes gathered loosely over a bared torso and loose-fitting black pants. They draped over his long, lean body in a carelessly elegant fashion, and while his tanned physique was healthy I could tell that he was not young as far as humans go. A neatly-trimmed black beard lined his jaw and a mustache hid his upper lip, and his long black hair was worn loose about his shoulders while dark, bushy brows loomed over brown eyes. He had a curved knife at his hip and seemed to require no other protection, sending his men away with a gesture to leave us alone. This was it, then. I looked down and waited for the disgusting touches to begin all over again, but they didn't. Instead, he spoke to me. "What is your name?" The rich man's voice was deep and patient, his dark eyes mere glinting shadows in the low light of his tent. Should I trust this human? I looked up at him, and after a long period of silence I said softly, "Your men have already given me a name." The rich man chuckled and gestured dismissively with his hand. "What do you call yourself?" He leveled that same look at me again, one of infinite patience. A slow smirk pulled at the side of my mouth as I said "Unlucky." The man said nothing for nearly a minute, and then he began to laugh silently, closing his eyes to mere slits that glittered in the light. "So be it, Unlucky Demon, though I would rather call you something more becoming to your beauty. Give it thought, and in time I will ask again." He gestured to the trunk at my right side and said, "There is a pitcher of water, a bowl of stewed meat, and a plate of honeyed bread for you in that box. Please, eat." My head turned towards the weathered trunk and after a moment I slowly lifted the lid, seeing within it all the items he had promised me. I must have thought it was poisoned, for I took a long time to sniff at each thing I took out. I even distrusted the water, but hunger compelled me to trust him in the end and that trust was not broken. It was the best food I'd had in a long time, ever since I'd stopped being able to hunt for myself. Soon my belly was full and I was licking the honey from my fingers happily, feeling better than I had for a long while. As my tongue caressed my digits, I remembered the honey cake Arad had brought me the day he'd told me his name, and I my cheer paled. The rich man watched me for a long time, studying me and my behavior. It surprised me when he asked "You miss your boy, don't you, Unlucky Demon?" I turned my head towards him quickly, eyes flaring for just a moment with anger that he should dare speak of my former companion. After all, it was this man who had parted him from me. The man seemed to shrink back by the merest fraction and I looked away, staring at the rug beneath my knees and past it, despondent and feeling very alone. The rich man said nothing more to me that evening, but he allowed me to remain in his tent as he stayed up through the night, reading several tablets and working out the value of his goods. I would watch him sometimes, working out the figures first in an exposed patch of sand next to where he sat and then into the wet clay tablet on his other side. The marks were so small that I wondered at how human hands could make them, but I began to get very tired and was soon asleep, curled up in blankets by the tent pole to which I was tied. In the morning I was chained to one of the wagons near the front of the convoy, and spent the better part of the day trying to puzzle out the workings of the camels ahead of me. I had never seen creatures like them before. They seemed quite impossible, what with such skinny legs and necks and such round bodies. Yet they were able to go on less water than even I needed, and I began to respect them for their durability. Plus, I couldn't imagine that I'd ever have a chance to bring one down and kill it with the weak little body it seemed I was now stuck in. The camels knew it too, and ignored me placidly. This caravan also had an animal that was new to me – the sight hounds. These long, arched dogs with tapered muzzles and laughing eyes seemed to walk on springs as they trotted around everyone and everything. Their coats came in every color you could imagine on a mammal, and in every pattern, too. The only real similarity they bore to one another was how sleek they all were. The rich man would occasionally ride off on his camel and take a few men and the hounds with him, only to return hours later riddled with fresh gazelle and hares. I often saw the hounds running at liberty, a blur over the flat stretches of sand and stone. The beasts, for all their physical achievement and savagery upon the hunt, were very friendly, even with me. In fact they seemed to be fascinated with me and would all crowd around me during our times of rest in the evening. In time, I found myself lounging amidst a warm pile of sleeping dogs every night, curling up willingly into their warm, silk-haired bodies. Chapter 7 The rich man had been having me sleep in his tent for nearly a month and still had made no move to use me as the headman had. But he spoke with me every night, and eventually he got me to speak more and more with him. I still refused to give him my real name, but this didn't deter him from trying to get to know me. "Halqu Ulu..." he intoned one night, taking a sip of his wine as I began to eat my supper. That night it was fresh gazelle for me, along with dates and flat bread. His pet name for me was Unlucky Demon, and I supposed it was as appropriate as anything could be. I settled in against the tent pole alone – the dogs had been taken on a night hunt by one of the other men. "Halqu Ulu..." he repeated, setting his wine cup upon a small table at his side. "Why do you think I bought you?" "To honor yourself and to make a curio of me." I tore gently at the bread with my teeth, enjoying at last being able to easily tear something apart with them. He didn't seem to mind that I spoke so casually with him, and every response appeared to give him pleasure. His smiling mouth showed a hint of teeth as he said, "That is partly true. Your former master spoke highly of your prowess as a pleasure slave..." I swallowed the bread in my mouth and became still, the blood draining from my already pale face. For some foolish reason I had thought that particular aspect of my captivity was over, but it appeared that this wasn't so. Taking a shaky sip of water, I said softly, "Yes... I know." My eyes couldn't meet his. He chuckled. "Yes, of course you were listening to us back then." The rich man stood up slowly, his head nearly brushing the top of the tent. He was wiry but strong, and taller than Arad had been. He came over to me and crouched beside me, guiding me to look at him with a hand at my chin so that he might gaze into my eyes. "Halqu Ulu, I will tell you now that I bought you because you are very intelligent. My men were speaking to the men in your old caravan, and reported to me that you had learned to speak our language in a matter of months. You can only learn a new language like that if you already know another..." I looked away, blushing hotly. I was not the only one who was intelligent in that tent. The rich man was so close that I could smell the scent of his body and feel his body heat. I didn't detest him as much as I detested the headman. Of course, the rich man still had the odor all humans carry, but he kept himself very clean. And of course he treated me with more respect, which went a very long way with me. I didn't answer him, but I don't think he had expected me to. "Halqu Ulu, I'm going to offer you a choice. Things can remain as they are, with you chained more securely than my hounds and languishing in bondage like a mule, ignorant. Or..." the rich man settled himself down to sit comfortably on the ground by my side "...I can teach you to read, in exchange for those pleasures of which your former master spoke so highly." I felt my guts twist and my mind reel. Finally I was being given the opportunity to learn how to read and write, but at the cost of my dignity. My mind was so torn that I asked in a desperate whisper if I might have a few days to think about it. He kindly agreed and we soon went to our rest. The next morning we stayed where we were camped, the dogs needing a day to rest after the long moon hunt. Many exotic animals had been caught, and we dined well that day. The dogs lay about me at night, and the rich man didn't speak to me, though his silence was not bred of anger. He was giving me room to make a steady decision, and I appreciated that he allowed me this time. After we were back on the move for a few days I decided it was time to present my choice. It was evening again and I lay amidst the dogs, eating my dinner and chained to the pole while the rich man busied himself with his numbers and figures. "I have decided..." I said, breaking the peaceful silence. One of the dogs shifted with a small grunt before it fell asleep again. The rich man looked up at me and set his tablet down, waiting patiently for me to speak again. Taking in a deep breath, I said, "I have decided that your offer is fair, and I accept it." My new master looked at me for a long time, judging my sincerity. He looked at his dogs and he looked at me, and then he nodded. "Good. We shall begin at once." My heart sunk and I looked down, preparing myself yet again for the pain and indignity of being used. I held out my wrists to offer them for binding, but the rich man only chuckled. "You misunderstand. Your lessons begin now. I will call for your services when I desire them, which isn't tonight. Come closer..." A heavy curved dagger landed at my knees with a dull thud. I looked up at the man, very confused. He only studied me, waiting, patient as ever. Could he be... untying me? My hands slowly reached for the weapon, expecting the repercussions of some cruel trick any second, but they never came. Very slowly I slid the blade between my skin and my collar and cut it away, the wretched loop by which I had been dragged around for more than a year falling to the ground, and still the rich man didn't stop me. "Demon, you are not free, but you are not a slave. You are a servant and that is a very different thing." He held up his index finger as if to emphasize that point. "A slave is ignorant and a servant is not. A servant is used for more intellectual services, and is more important. I have many servants, but not one is bound. And neither shall you be. Because you and I know..." he chuckled softly as he approached and then stooped to gather up the scraps of my former bondage "...that were you to run, shelter and food would be hard to come by, and no other master would treat you so well as I do. You would be living like an animal again, and you are not an animal. You deserve better."