0 comments/ 5517 views/ 0 favorites Norm the Demon By: Nigel Debonnaire I was sitting at the side of the river, minding my own business. That was my first mistake: never mind your own business, trouble finds you every time. Of course, being a Demon in Hell doesn't help either, but there've been a couple of centuries I flew under the radar. I was taking a break from tending the Spawnling pens: new demons don't flip into existence from Ether, and old demons don't want them underfoot until they're ready to cause trouble as a conscious choice. Joyce promised to watch the little buggers for me so I could take off and I was going to cover for her later. Freddie's cafe was the best place for kuchen, and I'd connived five to enjoy with a nice latte. What to my wondering eyes should appear but the Big Guy's son himself, the AntiChrist. Ace was slumming again, looking like an aging hippie with a backpack over his shoulders. I hate the little rat bastard, and I don't think he likes me, either. When he pulled off his pack and slung it into the chair beside me, I knew I was in for a shit sandwich again. He never had any good news for me in recent millennia. "Hi, Norm, how's it hanging?" The jackass even managed a sincere looking smile for me. "Fine, your lordship. Just taking a break from the Spawnling pens. Little buggers can drive you crazy." "I bet. How's Joyce?" "She's fine. How's Miriam?" He fumed and I knew I'd struck a chord. The little shit was always trying to make time with the Adversary's mother, and didn't like being reminded of his consistent failure. Sure, he could blast me into teenie, tiny pieces, but I'd love that. Being nothing is better than this damn place. "All right, I guess. Norm, it's time for you to get back to the job you do best." I put down my coffee mug with a bang. "No, no, Ace, anything but that. I'll clean out the dungpits for a century, two if you want, but don't make me go back on Spawning duty again. I've done my time there, filled the ranks of Hell better than anyone else. It's time I got a break." "There's one problem with Hell, when you're good at a job, you keep doing it," he said, shaking his head in mock frustration. "It's been 300 years, and our census is down. There are so many new arrivals, thanks to Brother Dawkins, we can't keep them under control, so we need to get new blood in the pipeline. Your talent, your expertise, you job. And I know you know the problem, because you know the number of Spawnlings has been pathetic since the Industrial Revolution." Shrugging my shoulders, I spread my palms. He turned up the fake smile a couple more notches and continued. "The Witchhunts did us in, Norm. Not many witches around to inseminate, and not a lot of celibate bishops to milk. You're smart and adaptable, you'll be able to sniff out the new material, so you're elected." Smoke began to trickle out of my ears. I wolfed down my remaining pastry, knowing I wouldn't have long to enjoy it. Ace would shoot me up to Earth before I finished if I weren't careful. I shook my head in disbelief, crumbs falling from the sides of my mouth: "Joyce can't manage the Spawnlings very well on her own. If I'm not there, all Hell breaks loose, so to speak." "Well, it won't if she knows what's good for her, he said, tapping the table with his open palm. "I'll be there supervising, so you won't be missed." "What about your Big Project? Don't you have better things to do than manage a bunch of poisonous little worms?" "What work? My plan is underway and cranking along without me. Doesn't need me on top of it." It was time to switch gears, tick him off and distract him. "What about the club later? Won't Miriam be there to listen to Charlie play?" He fumed and sat grinding his teeth for a moment. "I'm tired of Parker. Need to wash out the sound with some Gesualdo or Wagner." "Nothing like some thick chromaticism to take your mind off your blue balls, right?" A bolt shot from his nose and singed my butt. "All right, all right, this is Hell and I'm supposed to give you a hard time. Don't take it personally. Spawning duty it is." "Good," he simpered, snuggling into himself. "I'll give you a day. Nice of me right?" "You're the best boss in the Pit, that's for Damn sure." "Right," he snarled, picking up his pack. "You'll go when you finish your latte." "Bye." "Good bye, Norm. Happy Cunt Hunting." A thought crossed my mind as I sipped my latte, and I sent a quick note to His Infernal Majesty. The reply was immediate, and I watched it burn with a smile on my face. He liked my idea, and promised to help me if I could bring it off. I smiled and savored the anticipation. This was going to be fun after all. I dawdled as long as I could over my latte, taking time to savor every drop as well as every piece of attractive shedevil flesh that strolled by. Needed to get psyched up for the ugly job, especially since it's never really possible to have a real orgasm on Spawning duty. Doing Spawning duty is a two-fold operation: first, I have to collect human semen from a willing donor, second I have to use it on a willing recipient. That means I play both sides of the street in a short period of time, since human semen doesn't last too long in a demon's body. I would have to be a succubus for the first part and an incubus for the second, that's the way it goes. Fortunately, there's a few tools that make the job easier. The shift to Earth went painlessly, and I hunkered in my favorite, low maintenance form as I checked out the scene. The only thing I had clean in my closet was an old Viking outfit, but since I materialized in a Science Fiction convention I arrived unnoticed. I have many powers when I'm on Earth: I can reach out and find anything I want through the Ether and bring it to me, particularly the clothing I'd be wearing later; I can adjust my form to any shape; I can read minds but not change them directly, that's what temptation's for; I can speak any language and I have unlimited Internet access. The last came in handy as I scouted my venue, setting up a couple of fake identities for registration at the conference and hotel since getting busted for not having credentials is an unnecessary hassle. Using any of these powers costs in excruciating pain, so I wanted to find ways I could cut corners. I could have materialized as Bar Rafeli's clone and reeled in seething man meat right away, but it hurts less if I could find a schmoe with lower standards. First, the load of human semen, and I found my research was right: there was enough frustrated testosterone in the place to spawn legions of demons, more than any remote monastery I'd ever visited. A few scans and I located my mark. He was fretting over the authenticity of an old Star Trek script, trying to haggle the price down. His mind was easy to read, and I soon had his version of the ideal, accessible woman. That's the good bit about finding someone desperate enough: a woman of great beauty would intimidate him, leave him speechless even if she came on strong, but someone who seemed accessible and was good looking enough would hit the mother lode, so to speak. I found a dark niche to adjust, focusing on his ideal and how she would be dressed. After I morphed myself I ducked into a ladies' room to look. A 40 something brunette looked back at me, a few crow's feet around the eyes, 5'1" with large breasts beginning to sag. I hate the carrying the damn things around, and wished I'd found someone who wanted a small titted woman, but everything else he wanted was so easy I put up with it. Taking off the Viking outfit and sending it back to Hell, I summoned a Princess Lei bikini from the last good Jedi movie, with a chain and collar, and matching sandals so I didn't get hassled by some officious nerd enforcing a dress code. A quick look, a few adjustments, and it was perfect. Fortunately, the jerk had a secret desire to sleep with his mother, so I didn't have to make up facial features from my own imagination: that takes more energy and pain. I strolled out across the exhibit floor, swaying my hips, and giving the horny geeks an icy stare to go with my looks. The other girls gave me chilly glances in return, but that's OK, I'd get even with one of them later. My target was still indecisive, holding his cellophane trophy and staring at it, when I sauntered up beside him and started browsing some collectables, picking up a Luke Skywalker action figure to look at until he noticed me. It took a little longer than I expected, but I got his attention. "Excuse me, miss," he started, almost oblivious to my appearance, he was so focused on his trophy. "Could you help me?" "Yes?" I hit him with an innocent look. He looked back at me through brown eyes underneath a curly top of chaotic brown hair. His skin was clear and clean shaven; he wore a "Androids Do It All The Time" t-shirt, black shorts and sandals. Late 30's, he was a nerd who lived in his mother's basement, a little chubby, with enough self esteem to fill a thimble, maybe. For a moment, he was speechless, but he recovered after looking at the item in his hand: "Do you think it's worthwhile to buy a Voyager script? I've read articles with opposite opinions, and I need to know what a random person on the street would think." I almost walked away from the idiot, but I turned up the charm. "Autographed by who?" "Jolene Blalock and Scott Bakula." "Which season?" "First." Putting my finger to my lower lip, I pretended to think for a moment. "Oh yes, I'd buy it. The First Season was pretty good, and in another generation they'll be whining about what a shame it was the series didn't go anywhere. Sure to increase in value." It took too damn long, but he finally noticed how sexy I was. There was a breeze from the AC and I let my nipples harden: the effect was immediate, and I didn't need to read his mind to feel his response. The warp drive libido kicked in, and I gave him a little smile to encourage it. His eyes went straight to my boobs and glazed a little. This was too easy. Finally he recovered enough to continue the conversation. "Really?" "Really, really." I really didn't know, but he needed an expert and I could fake it. He gave me a double take at the Shrek reference, and turned to the vendor, concluding his purchase quickly. I was surprised at how much cash he carried, but a glance through his mind told me it was almost everything he had, not that I cared. I took it from him to gaze at it in wonder for a moment, and a light went on upstairs as well as down. "By the way, my name is Greg, Greg Woodley." "I'm Galadriel Harris. Pleased to meet you." I extended my hand for him to take, but I made sure my boobs bounced a little as I shook it. "Yes, it's after LOTR, my parents were hippies in the Sixties and I'm sure Dad was on acid when I was born." "Right," he mumbled sheepishly. "Still a cool name." "Oh yes, very cool. Do you come here often, Greg?" "I've been here every year the past ten years. Only weekend I can get off from the store, I mean, corporation, and I always find something different here." "Well, I'm sure you're keeping that string alive. This is my first year here, and I've heard so much about this Con. Could you show me around?" He gasped and nodded his head before his mouth could engage. I smiled because I was right about him, and took his arm for him to lead me around the Con. Turning on the enthusiasm, he showed me every booth, made a point to greet anyone he knew so he could be seen with me, explained in detail all the obscure references in the exhibits, and commented several times how authentic my outfit was. A little bulge started to appear, and I made a point to catch a glance he noticed, smiling at the effect I was having on him. It was too easy. Greg was staying with three friends, but I'd snagged a room key through the Ether and invited him to my room for a drink at the wet bar. He was shaking as the door shut, and could hardly talk. So I decided to be aggressive and leaped at him like a tiger, sticking my tongue down his throat and groping his groin without preliminary. He got rock hard immediately, and I adjusted my inner geography to fit him perfectly. Glad he wasn't a huge dicked monster, creating small spaces is less painful. Throwing him on the bed, I mauled him several moments before he came to his senses and started making some moves. First, he tore off my top and spun around to pull my bottoms off, leaving me naked. I tried to lunge back at him, but he pushed me down, awkwardly pulling his t-shirt over his head and moving his shorts down past his knees. Switching roles, I sat back, mouth open, licking my lips as he stripped and trying to invite him with my eyes. He thrust his penis forward at me, thinking to scare me, but I reached out and grasped it, blinking my eyes coquettishly. After he nodded his head, I put it in my mouth, licking and sucking and almost making him ejaculate on the spot. Reading his mind and his body, I knew he was good for three shots, so I went fast and got him to spew his seed down my throat right away. After all, it doesn't matter where it goes as long as it gets inside me. A couple of times in history, I took on the form of a fair, young monk to make my collections, but we don't need to talk about that right now. He fell down on the bed after I finished milking him, and almost fell asleep on the spot. I reached into his brain and gave him a jolt of adrenaline: since he'd made a deposit inside me, I had more control of him than before. In fact, I could make him do anything I wanted from then on without his consent, but I wanted him to think it was all his grotesque masculine endurance that made the session possible. That would make the memory of the one night he got laid more frustrating as time went by. Shaking his head, he sprung erect again almost immediately; his surprise was palpable. I batted my eyes at him: "It's so good to be around a real stud again. Now I want you to put that monster between my legs. Fuck me, Greggy, fuck me. Momma needs it." The lower command center took over, and he knelt between my legs. I reached out and guided him to my dripping slit, a perfect fit in spite of his lack of endowment. Once he got started, I put my ankles as high as I could and thrust back at him, grinding my hips and guiding his hands to my breasts. He started working them over, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from crying out in real pain. The things I do for Hell. It wasn't long before he filled my slit, and I let him doze a little bit before waking him up again. "Once more, stud, I've got one more hole that needs filling. Do it to me again, stick it up my ass." His eyebrows went high in surprise, but his recent success got him going again without my help and he was positioned at my back door. "Lick it first, lube it up, honey," I moaned, "It's all right, I'm clean down there." Pausing for a moment, he stuck his tongue up my asshole and I smiled. If he only knew what he was doing, but I wasn't making him, and it was very sweet. I thought about cutting a fart, but once again, not breaking the atmosphere would make the future pain more poignant, so I let him think he was doing the right thing to get me ready. I let him lick my butthole for an eternity before I let him move on: "Now, Greggy, now! Fuck me up the ass!" It took a little maneuvering, but he got it in and it wasn't too painful. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back and I let him, groaning and putting on a show of orgasming a couple of times. He shot another load in my bowels and collapsed, fast asleep and snoring before I could move off the bed and stand on my own two feet again. Looking him over, I debated sucking out his soul, but decided against it. I have standards: he wasn't really Good enough to be very tasty and not Evil enough to have the right kind of tingle. A mediocrity that we're seeing too many of downstairs. I made a note to convince His Infernal Majesty to let religion be popular again; it's more delicious to consume souls that have known what Right and Wrong are. As for Greggy, giving him a memory of a night that could never happen again would be enough ongoing torture to keep me happy. Heck, I even transported him back to his room, with his clothes, so he'd wonder if it really happened. Yeah, I know it sounds suspiciously like I'm being a moral being there, even showing a little virtue. Hey, no demon's perfect. I'd make up for my sentimentality soon enough. I sighed and sat on the bed, pulling a lit cigarette out of the Ether to smoke in that non-smoking room, and rested before the next phase. Idly, I played with my clitoris, making my body tingle. I was entitled to enjoy myself a little bit. My other hand went to my nipple, teasing it as I inserted two fingers inside. It took a while, but soon I was able to climax in my succubus form, which is good for morale and helps keep the deposit fresh. Norm the Demon Ch. 02 The succubus phase was over and I'd have to switch to incubus to finish the job. It's always easier to have a demon that can shape change do Spawning duty. There's a few succubi and incubi that can't shapechange, but the process of passing the seed between them is incredibly ugly and I won't bore you with the details. If you're really bad and end up in Hell, I'll give you a self-guided tour. The convention was the best idea I'd had for a few hundred years: I'd spotted my next victim already and I didn't have to leave the hotel. She was cruising the exhibits the same time Greg was, ignoring the nerd disdainfully as she passed him by. Higher standards meant more effort in my part, but for my plan to work I needed someone with brains and her particular looks. I was lucky to find someone so perfectly suited for the role I wanted, and almost thanked Lady Luck for my good fortune. She was after my ass as well, and calling her attention to me would be a huge mistake. The transformation was incredibly painful, since I became a handsome man in perfect physical shape with a dark goatee, wearing a grey turtleneck and dark slacks. My black hair was slicked back, and my blue eyes burned with flame. A blink, and I exited the rest room of the hotel bar, taking a stool at the end, and ordering a martini. I would have liked a beer, it's the only reason I ever want to come to earth, but my prey thought martini drinking was part of a true stallion's makeup, and so it was the shaken-not-stirred version of the popular mixed drink. She was at the end of the bar, a little chubby, with dark hair and dark skin. Wearing a black, spaghetti strapped dress with deep cleavage, and a pentagram around her neck, she was a dead ringer for Miriam that Ace longed for so desperately. I'd read her mind and her eyes found me ten seconds after she came up to the bar. It wasn't easy to find a witch, but here she was. A sharp cookie, too bright, but someone who'd enjoy double crossing Satan if she could. I'd let her come close. I looked away and scanned the bar full of people, and found her moving my direction, her large brown eyes drinking in my appearance. Damn, probably got her ideal looking man too right. Anyway, she came up with a question on her lips that I cut off abruptly in a cold voice: "Sylvia." She shook her head and her smile dropped for a moment. "Yes?" "Sylvia. I know you, and you know me. I have a proposition for you." It took her aback, the directness and the ability to see through her. She enjoyed being in control and I'd already taken that away from her. Recovering herself quickly, she emulated my directness: "You're clairvoyant. You have the gift." "So do you. I'm the man you've been looking for your whole life, and I have an offer for you. Help me, and I can reward you." "Oh? Say more." I took a sip from my drink and put it down, creating a space around us that was safe from eavesdropping. "Help me summon a creature from Hell, confine him to a magic circle and humiliate him. Do this, and you'll get a Wish of the first category, anything short of ruling the world." She shook her head and took this in. "Anything I want except ruling the world? Why not ruling the world?" I shrugged my shoulders. "It wouldn't be worth it. Think of all the hassle, all the time lost making decisions that people may or may not understand. Having everyone looking to you for everything, every moment of the day, no rest, no privacy, no end. And the crowning glory: all those mountains of paperwork. Do you think anybody could rule the world without paperwork?" "Shit, sounds awful. All right, I'm fine with making a wish that isn't about ruling the world. What do I have to do?" I sized her up and waited a moment before proceeding. "I'll teach you how to summon the creature from Hell. You know the theory, correct?" "Correct. Studied the Rite, but never had the nerve to try it. Hellish beasts are too tricky, and it has to be perfect." "I'll mentor you, you'll get it right. Then, you let me fuck you while he watches." A gasp and a hand went to her throat. "Fuck me? Are you kidding? I don't work that side of the street. Not unless you're a double dicked demon." Blinking, I adjusted my lower anatomy and put her hand in my crotch. "Any more questions?" "Yes," she said, gasping and swallowing awkwardly. "Why do I have to let you fuck me, other than creating some Demonspawn?" "It'll drive the jerk crazy, and I'll make it worth your while," Damn, I thought to myself, she's almost too smart. I didn't want to move on, but she looked so right for the part I couldn't stop. "You look just like a woman he's lusted after for centuries, a carbon copy, and watching someone who looks like her get fucked like crazy will be agony for him." "Yes? Just to piss him off?" "It's what we double dicked demons do for a living." I took a sip of my martini and grimaced, and silently struck the bartender with a week's impotence. "You get a major Wish for all this, and you don't have to use it right away. Take your time and word it exactly the way you want it, figure out all the ways we could cheat you in advance, and make it specific enough. I'll even give you a little friendly advice." She looked at me with sultry eyes. "You really want to get this guy, don't you?" I nodded, and so did she. "Let's step over to the corner and I'll take us somewhere more appropriate." Taking my hand, she followed me into the back hallway that led to the restrooms and then we were in her workroom. There was shelves upon shelves of magic junk, but they held the necessary ingredients for a Greater Summoning and there was enough floor space to inscribe a Magic Circle as well as accomplish what I wanted. I snapped my fingers and the candles lit; a cheap trick that impressed Sylvia anyway. She was very sharp, and it didn't take long for her to follow my instructions for setting everything up. When she finished, I told her the Ace's true name and followed up: "You have to take an oath before I let you start the Rite." "Yes?" "He'll probably call me by my true name as we taunt him. You must swear never to summon me by that name or teach anyone else how to summon me by any means, ever." A thought crossed her mind and she smiled. "You'll protect me from Him, right?" I nodded wordlessly and she persisted: "And if I don't swear?" "You'd like to know the banishment rite, wouldn't you?" I cocked an eyebrow and let her imagine Ace's wrath. "Point made. I swear by all that is Unholy I will never summon you or teach anyone else how to summon you by any means, ever." "Good." Now it was time for the fun. Sylvia went through the incantations perfectly and Ace, the aging hippie, appeared in the center of the circle. He was pissed. "Damn you, bitch, you took me out of Bayreuth just before the Ride of the Valkyries. This had better be good." She smiled evilly and said: "We apologize for the inconvenience." "Good cynicism." He materialized a lounger to sit on and put his feet up. "Now what do you want?" "I want you to watch a little show. That's all." "That's all? You summon me, the AntiChrist, just to watch a little show? Don't want to sell me your soul so you can gain the whole world and all that is in it? You're so smart you're an idiot. Why don't you stroll on down to Hell to light a cigarette while you're at it?" "I don't smoke." I stepped out of the shadows and came up to stand behind her, putting my hand on her shoulder, causing her to gasp. "Hi, boss." "You! What the fuck are you doing here, Norm?" "Oh, I thought we could entertain you a little tonight. It's been a while since I was able to entertain you, and I've got an idea that positively devilish." I slipped one of the straps off her shoulder and stroked her skin. "Does she look like anyone we know?" He squinted and after a moment nodded. "Yes, she's a dead ringer for. . .someone we know." "Someone you have the hots for, someone you'd like to have your way with." I slipped the other strap off and edged the dress down her body a little, increasing her cleavage and exposing a thin crescent of nipple. "Someone you'd like to have here, now, doing what I'm doing." She was into earlobe licking, so I traced the ridges and ran my tongue around, making her shudder. Then, I gathered her breasts into my hands, kneading them and playing with them. She moaned and leaned back into me, grinding her ass into my hardening cocks. "We're going to give you a show, Ace. We're going to make your dream come true, we're going to do how you'd like to do Miriam. And all you can do is watch." He screamed, and I told Sylvia how to silence him. Fortunately, I hadn't aroused her enough to become incoherent, and before she began I'd taught her how to isolate part of her Will so she could maintain the Magic Circle while her other senses got lost in passion. He was more pissed to find he couldn't make a sound, and stormed around the Circle, looking for weakness. I continued to maul her and stoke her fires as he discovered she did her job too well. Finally he stomped back to the center and sat down on his recliner, crossing his arms in frustration. The danger was he'd close his eyes and look away, but I knew he couldn't do that. She looked too much like Miriam, and he was too horny for her. I slipped the dress down, exposing her breasts, and started pinching her nipples. His mouth was a tight line and his eyebrows were dueling caterpillars. She moaned and ground back into me harder, and it was time to strip her completely. One hand went down to her crotch, which parted enough to welcome my probing fingers. "You're a virgin, aren't you?" I murmured into her ear. I knew her answer, but it wasn't for my sake I asked. "Yes," she gasped, "I've never been used like this, never known the heat of a man's passion. Or a woman's, either. My God, what are you doing to me?" "I'm getting ready to fuck you for the first time. You'd like that, wouldn't you?' Sylvia knew how to play the role, even though there was some truth to what she was saying. "Yes, yes, please take me. I can't say no to you, you demonic stud. I want your cocks, both of them." Spinning her around, I gestured and my clothes disappeared, revealing a perfectly muscled body, with two healthy cocks bobbing erect. She went to her knees and took the upper one in her mouth, while mashing her breasts together around the lower one. Her inexperience showed when I felt teeth, but I was getting into it so much I didn't care, as long as she didn't draw blood I'd let her chew my dick a little. Ace bounced out of his chair and came so close to the boundary sparks flew, making him wince, but he strained to watch every moment. Feeling the moment build, I pulled her off me, stood her up and bent her over. She was slick and dripping, I reached down to collect her cunt juice to lubricate her asshole. For a few moments, I teased her orifices with the heads of my cocks, making her squirm back into me, and making Ace double tent his pants. Shit, much more of this and I could make him cream his jeans. I stroked Sylvia's sides, making her quiver, and asked her: "Do you want it?" "Yes." "Do you really this want it?" "Yes, give it to me, give it to me." I toyed with her, teasing at entering, and asked again. "What do you want me to do?" Her voice was irritated and frustrated. "Put them in. Fuck me for the first time. Shove those cocks inside me where they belong. Take my virginity, make me your whore. Fuck me, Damn you!" With a push, I did it, reaching forward to grab her breasts. She orgasmed at once, and I started humping her repeating a mantra I knew would piss Ace off: "In nomine Patrisi, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti." It was Pope Alex's favorite mantra when he fucked his daughter Lucretia, and I knew the blasphemy would twist the knife for Ace, as well as bring back personal memories he had of that court. It was wonderful, she was so tight in both holes and for a while it was a pure pleasure I hadn't known on Earth before in all the long centuries I'd fucked witches. A glance at the circle: Ace was almost foaming at the mouth. His eyes were blazing real red; he was losing control of his appearance and reverting to his True Form. I sneered at him and continued my work, thrusting in and out with obvious joy. Just when I thought he was going to lose it completely, he recovered enough for his human form to stabilize, but he could only do it by grasping the arms of the recliner so tightly his knuckles turned white. She orgasmed again, and I felt the semen building for release. For a moment, I considered pulling out, spinning her around and shooting it all over her face, but that wouldn't accomplish my purpose even thought it would piss Ace off to the ultimate degree. So I settled for bellowing like a foghorn as I sent the black seed into her. I stayed inside her and slapped her ass a couple of times. "Don't you wish you had this?" I said to Ace. He favored me with an Infernal Glare, two spots on his jeans testifying to the humiliation I put him through. I let Sylvia recover and catch her breath before she did the Banishment Spell, sending Ace back to Hell. According to the rules, he wouldn't be able to materialize there on his own, and couldn't touch her. We went over to a bed she kept in the corner and she slept for a while in my arms. I had to hold her until the Spawnlings came out, which they did a couple hours later. It wasn't pretty, and it wasn't painless; I won't describe it, and I gathered them into a basket for their trip to the pens Below. Once back in Hell, I went back to Freddie's where His Infernal Majesty met me. We sat at a table, watching the afterlife walk by, and enjoyed a small snack with schnapps. Lucifer was in a better mood than I've seen in ages, and it seemed to overflow the entire block around him. He clapped me on the shoulder and enthused: "Well done, Norm, well done. You put on a great show; I enjoyed every moment of it. Ace needed to be taken down a step or two. Well done." "Thank you, Eminence. Glad I could be of service." He pulled a cigar from the Ether and lit it slowly before returning to his discourse. "And in honor of your service to me, I will do you two Great Favors." "Two, your Eminence?" "Yes, Two. First, you will never see Ace again and are free from his vengeance. You are under My Protection. That applies to Sylvia as well: she will be rewarded as you promised for her service to my will, and Ace won't be able to touch her, either. Your entertainment was the best I've had for millennia, haven't seen anything this amusing since Belshazzar's Feast." "Thank you, your Eminence. I knew I could count on you." "Yes, yes. Second, you are promoted to Wandering Torturer: you may traverse the Pit or any layer of the Ether or Earth and torment anyone you come across any way you wish." I chuckled to myself; this was better than I hoped. A Wandering Torturer was one step beneath the Great Demonic Council, and had less responsibility. I'd be free from any control save his Eminence, and do anything I wanted to just about anything. At least, anything within the boundaries of our existence. Eternity would almost be bearable; I was as free as any demon could hope to be. Then I heard Sylvia's voice with her Great Wish and ground my teeth. I thought she was far too smart for her own good, and it was within the legal limits of the Wish. It was poison to my new found freedom, a chain that would bind me regularly, force me into pain beyond my control. My Eternity was once again a March through misery. The words rang in my ears, and I shuddered every time afterward I had to fulfill my obligation until the day she died. "I wish he would fuck me like that every night."