Hell is paved with good intentions

Hi everyone, first time posting here, please be gentle. Also, im french so english might be a little messed up, let me know if you see any glaring error, ill correct them

Prince Asmodeus looks around himself wearily. For centuries and centuries, the Underworld has always been the same unchanging tune. It is always the same flames that torment souls who commit the same sins. After millennia of existence, one might believe that Men have learned from their mistakes, but we would be seriously wrong.

As Asmodeus continues to observe the tortured and listen to their complaints, he has to refrain from screaming his frustration. He's had enough of this life, enough of having to fight for a place in the foreground, he who dreams only of being in the shadows. Only, being the seventh son of Lucifer, he must prove that he has his place in the Underworld, under penalty of being executed. There is no room for the weak in this realm, and anyone who does not do everything to be the most powerful there is considered weak.

Disgusted, Asmodeus turns away from the sight of a pregnant woman being quartered and returns to his apartments. He doesn't even try to understand what this woman could have done to make even her unborn child pay the price. The answer to this question could be the proverbial drop of water.

Asmodeus is not like his father or his brothers. He does not seek the suffering of others, nor does he feast on it. Oh he has nothing against a few screams, just the ones he longs for are not in this part of the Underworld.

The Prince finally enters his room after walking for a good quarter of an hour. A few servants complained that it was causing them extra work, but a few months of flogging taught them to hold their tongues. Asmodeus is keen on the tranquility that this seclusion that he himself has asked for ensures him. And since his Father doesn't give a damn about what he does, Asmodeus got it.

Coming out of his thoughts, he walks towards his cupboard and takes out a small key which he keeps permanently around his neck thanks to a chain forged in the very flames of Hell. Suffice to say that it is indestructible.

After unlocking the cabinet, Asmodée opens the doors wide and searches for the accessories he will need to spend the next few hours pleasantly. He takes out a wooden pallet, the board of which is pierced with holes the size of a thumbnail, clothespins tightened to the maximum, an anal hook, an inflatable gag, an electric penis ring, and the gel that goes with it, and finally, a head harness.

As he is about to turn around to go and put it all on the bed, he is suddenly brutally grabbed by the hair before being violently thrown on the floor. Asmodeus sprawls across the floor and growls when her chin hits the hardwood. The noise made by the accessories scattering around the room freezes him.

A foot hits his back and prevents him from moving. Asmodeus even has the impression that the person is leaning with all his weight on his back. Yet he says nothing and does not struggle. He stays there on the ground, waiting.

— Hello my Angel, says a man. You are late. And you brought it all down. Naughty Angel. Come on, pick it up for me, before I get angry.

The man didn't use a particularly mean tone, yet it is with tears in his eyes that Asmodeus tries to get up to obey, but the foot doesn't leave his back.

— Ah, I didn't say you had the right to get up, the man points out gently.

Asmodeus once again tries to comply, but as before, the weight of the man prevents him from moving. Ashamed, Asmodeus cries a little more. He knows he will disappoint his Lord despite his best efforts.

— I see, sighs the man. We really need to do something about your disobedience.

Asmodeus refrains from begging that his Lord does not punish him. He was not allowed to speak, so to avoid doing so, he bites his lip. He doesn't want to receive a punishment worse than the one on the horizon. It is his fault, he knows it well. He shouldn't have daydreamed like he did.

— Come on, collect all that, asks his Lord again in a soft voice.

The weight on his back disappears and Asmodeus begins to crawl as best he can. He walks with the help of his arms and legs and slowly approaches the anal hook. The Prince would have preferred to start with something else, but it is the object closest to him and he has already irritated his Lord enough, even if nothing in the tone of the man lets him guess.

Unsurprisingly, as soon as Asmodeus is close enough to the hook to be able to catch it with his teeth if he receives the order, the voice of his Lord rises:

— Stop my Angel.

Asmodeus immediately freezes and receives a pat on the head for his obedience.

— You see that you can be a good boy whenever you want, congratulates him his Lord. It deserves a reward.

The hand of his Lord disappears from the head of Asmodeus and a few seconds later, his pants are brutally ripped off and a finger feels his anus. Asmodeus does his best to be as relaxed as possible, but he fears that His Lord will penetrate him without any prior lubrication.

— Hmm, we will have to wet all that, announces his Lord. What do you think about it ?

His Lord having asked him a direct question, Asmodeus hastens to answer.

— Please My Lord.

— Good boy. Get on all fours, please.

Asmodeus immediately adopts the requested position and patiently awaits the result. Two hands part his buttocks and he hears his Lord spit. The saliva arrives directly on his anus and Asmodeus blushes, mortified.

— Come on, come on, slightly chastises his Lord, none of that between us, my Angel. I have to lubricate you a little, don't I?

Asmodée restrains the cry which threatens to pass the barrier of his lips when a finger spreads the saliva before suddenly plunging into him.

— Oh excuse me my Angel, says His Lord in a compassionate tone. I did not use enough, perhaps?

Asmodeus shakes his head, because no, there isn't enough. In fact, he would love his Lord to use the lube the Prince can see laying on the dresser a few feet away. He knows it won't happen, so he doesn't ask.

— I do not know, hesitates his Lord. You don't seem to like my saliva. Maybe you would prefer someone else's?

Asmodeus vigorously shakes his head. He doesn't know what his Lord has in mind and he doesn't want to find out. Something tells him he wouldn't like the result. His Lord is quite capable of opening the door and catching the first person who walks down the hall. It is not because his districts are isolated that they are deserted. And Asmodeus refuses to let anyone else see him in this situation. He's already struggling enough to gain respect.

— Maybe we should stop everything, suggests his Lord.

This time Asmodeus cannot be silent.

— No, please my Lord!

A violent kick on the butt makes him yelp and sends him to the ground.

— I did not give you permission to speak, I believe, remarks his Lord gently.

Asmodeus is forcibly lifted up by the hand of his Lord who grabs him once more by the hair. The hand does not let go as his Lord slaps him repeatedly.

— Undress my Angel, asks his Lord. I want to see your body as naked as the day you were born. And no more words, please.

Asmodeus cries as silently as he can as he obeys. His cheeks are burning and aching, but he knows the worst is yet to come.

Still crying and now naked in the middle of the room, Asmodeus watches as his Lord collects the items scattered on the floor. The Prince begins to tremble when his Lord fixes the anal hook in a place provided for this purpose in the wall opposite the bed. Right under the chains hanging from the ceiling with heavy metal handcuffs attached.

— Come here my Angel, gently says his Lord.

Asmodeus hurries to get under the chains and lets himself be manhandled when his Lord ties him up before brutally sticking two fingers deep in his mouth, threatening to make him vomit.

— I will do what it takes so that you have saliva, do not worry my Angel.

His Lord moves away from Asmodeus again, but only long enough to find a small pipe connected to a fairly innocent— looking machine. Asmodeus thinks he remembers that his Lord told him that dentists used it, but he admits that he did not pay special attention to this detail. His Lord places the pipe in Asmodeus' mouth and forces him to close his jaw on it.

— Don't drop it, okay?

Asmodeus bites down the pipe with more conviction. No matter what his Lord does to him, the piece of plastic won't budge, he swears to himself.

It is not easy, however, when his Lord takes hold of the paddle and sets about hitting the Prince with it.

Asmodeus whines, moans, cries and squirms in all directions to escape the blows, but his Lord seems to mock it royally. He is content to bring down the palette on all the places Asmodeus exposes in his search for an escape.

Despite the treatment he is undergoing — or maybe because of it — Asmodeus is erect. Even when a particularly vicious blow fell on his outstretched member, causing him to scream — but not let go of the pipe — his rod remained proudly erect, drawing the attention of his Lord to it.

— Well, well, what do we have there? I think this little rascal demands my attention.

His Lord casually throws the paddle on the ground and grabs the cock ring before placing it at the base of the Prince's cock. Then his Lord struck his forehead.

— Oh no, what an idiot! I forgot the gel!

His Lord removes the ring without any softness and the electrodes cruelly scrape the shaft of Asmodeus who still moans.

— Shhh, be quiet my Angel, said his Lord softly. I don't want to shut you up.

Asmodeus does his best not to make a sound anymore. He doesn't want to know what his Lord might come up with to keep him quiet. Still, he can't quite hold back the manifestations of his pain.

— Oh my Angel, I warned you, laments his Lord.

His Lord removes the pipe without checking the amount of saliva collected, then places the gag in Asmodeus' mouth. He pumps to inflate the balloon and Asmodeus widens his eyes when his Lord doesn't stop, straining his jaws and partially blocking his airways. His Lord ceases to swell only when the Prince's breathing becomes labored and choppy.

— Do not lose consciousness my Angel, please, gently asks his Lord while giving him a violent slap on the rod.

Asmodeus shakes his head and forces himself to breathe more calmly. He doesn't want to pass out. He refuses to do so. The last time this happened to him, he woke up with bamboo sticks stuck in his tongue and a baseball bat between his buttcheeks.

— Good, says his Lord.

His Lord bluntly spreads the conductive gel on the Prince's penis and places the ring before activating it. Immediately, a light electric current runs through the erect rod and Asmodeus squirms, giving the impression that he is convulsing.

His Lord stops the device and scratches the glans glistening with seminal fluid with the tips of his fingernails.

— I almost abandoned your delectable buttocks. Don't you think that would have been a shame?

Asmodeus doesn't really have an opinion on the matter. His mind starts to get hazy and he gets lost in the sensations. It is with a blurry vision that he watches his Lord pass behind him and even though Asmodeus can no longer see him, he already knows what is going to happen.

His Lord coats his anus with the saliva collected in the machine, but too little for it to be a real preparation. Then, Asmodeus waits while his Lord coats the anal hook in liquid. At least, that is what the Prince supposes.

Contrary to what one might imagine with the name, the anal hook ends with a ball. The advantage of the model that his Lord has chosen is that you can change the ball as you wish. When Asmodeus took the hook out of the cupboard, the ball had a diameter of two centimeters. Something tells him that's no longer the case.

The facts prove him right when his Lord makes him back down and stand on tiptoe. Asmodeus feels the ball pressed against his anus and he grimaces around his gag. It is even bigger than he imagined and the saliva is not going to be enough. His Lord's hands are more insistent on his waist and ignores the resistance of Asmodeus' gluteal muscles. He finds himself forced to brutally impale himself on the ball which gives him the impression of tearing his anus. The gag is not enough to stifle his howl in pain.

A slap half stuns Asmodeus whose cry is abruptly cut off.

— Hush my Angel. Be good, encourage his Lord. I like it when you are good.

Asmodeus once again tries to remain silent, even if it gets more and more complicated. He feels like he doesn't have enough neurons to control his body's reflexes.

— I want to play ! joyfully proclaims his Lord.

Asmodeus knows what that means and if he could, he would jump with excitement. His Lord is going to play with his piercings.

The Prince has a whole set of them, mainly rings. Two rings adorn his nipples, while a line adorns his penis to the testicles and the last is a bar that crosses the head of his penis right through.

His Lord is always in a good mood when he plays with Asmodeus' piercings. Probably because he installed them himself. Asmodeus told himself that if he had not been firmly gagged that day, he would have roused all the Underworld and maybe even beyond with his screams. But the Prince must admit that he loves when his Lord plays with his piercings, he always takes great pleasure in it.

Asmodeus changes his mind when his Lord begins to thread a string through the rings to connect them. Then His Lord squeezes, tightening the cord which shortens the distance between each ring, forcing Asmodeus to bend so that nothing is torn off. His Lord adds further to the tension when he pulls on the chains from which Asmodeus hangs, lifting him from the ground. The Prince feels the ball of the hook come out in part, then his Lord brutally releases the chains, causing Asmodeus to fall back on the hook. In reaction, he tensed, thus pulling on the cord and consequently, on the piercings.

— Um, perfect. You are perfect my Angel, congratulates him his Lord. You like it ?

Asmodeus is too immersed in sensations to have an opinion. He has the impression that his body no longer belongs to him. His muscles are tugging at him and his nerve endings are on fire, sending mixed messages to his brain which does not know how to react. Does he like ? Yes… No… He doesn't know… He doesn't know… Asmodeus just moaned pitifully while his Lord smiled at him while pulling brutally on the cord several times.

— You are such a good boy, my Angel, his Lord whispers before violently biting his ear.

Asmodeus barely has the strength to scream his pain now. He hangs from the chains, his toes brushing the floor, half bent, while being impaled on the anal hook. It's starting to be a lot and he's got just enough neurons left to think he's hoping his Lord won't add any other props, because he doesn't know if he can handle it. His Lord must realize this, because he puts away the head harness and the clothespins.

— You will not need that, my Angel, assures his Lord. And now I'm gonna watch you dance.

Asmodeus frowns slightly. Dance? What does it mean ? The Prince understands when his Lord turns on the penis ring again. Asmodeus barely realizes that his Lord is going to sit on the bed, he is far too busy squirming. What tightens the cord. In reaction, he bends again and all of this causes him to impale himself and free himself from the hook. It's a vicious circle.

When he straightens, his feet touch the ground enough for him to stand up, the ball thus stretching his anus and the cord stretches which in turn, makes him bend. When he bends, he suddenly falls on the ball which then hits his prostate.

Asmodeus is completely lost in sensations. Everything hurts. His arms, because he's hanging from the ceiling by the wrists. His cock, because of the penis ring sending waves of electricity and the pull exerted on his piercings. His nipples because he feels like they're going to be pulled out. His anus, because the saliva which served as lube dries slowly, but surely and the ball is decidedly too big for an almost dry sodomy. On top of all that, the inflatable gag prevents him from taking the big gulps of air he needs. Gradually, his mind darkens until it sinks into unconsciousness.

When Asmodeus comes back to himself, the chains keep him on his knees and the gag is gone. It doesn't mean he can breathe better since his Lord cruelly fucks his mouth and throat. He chokes a little, feeling nausea rise up his esophagus.

— Relax my Angel, asks his Lord. You were perfect. Don't make a mistake when we're almost done, please. I want you to drink my seed. I know you like it.

Asmodée does the best he can to let it go. After all his Lord is right. They are almost done and it would be a shame if he was punished again when he just had to wait until his Lord had finished using his mouth.

Asmodeus remains without energy as his Lord uses him and dutifully swallows when a thick, bitter liquid invades his mouth and throat. When his Lord withdraws, Asmodeus takes great gulps of air. He really needs it. It wasn't until then that he realized that his Lord had removed all the accessories, but replaced the anal hook with something else. He doesn't know what it is and it worries him a bit, but it's too small for it to be a baseball bat so he considers himself lucky. Besides, his thighs are wet with lubricant so it can't be worse than the hook.

— Come here my Angel, says his Lord, as he unties him and puts him on his shoulder as if he’s weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. Your turn.

Asmodeus does not move, he lets his Lord transport him, he does not know where. He doesn't have enough strength to worry about anything anymore. As far as he knows, his Lord is going to present him like this before Lucifer, so that all Hell knows well what he is. Asmodeus couldn't care less. He's too exhausted.

He still has a boost of energy when his Lord throws him on the bed and attacks his penis. It is also quite incredible that the Prince is still erect. It has happened to him to come with much less than what he underwent today.

The problem is, the blowjob from his Lord is not even pleasant. Asmodeus' penis is far too sensitive, far too irritated for that. Yet it takes a ridiculously short time to ejaculate in the mouth of his Lord who ... does not stop sucking vigorously. It's almost like having his cock in a vacuum cleaner.

Asmodeus tries to escape his Lord's mouth, he squirms a bit, but feels like a worm hanging on the hook of a fishpole. He tries to escape but he has nowhere to run. He hurts, but when he tries to push his Lord away, his hands don't have enough strength.

Finally, finally, Asmodeus comes once again and his Lord moves away from him.

— Again, gently announces his Lord before passing his hand between the buttocks of Asmodeus.

Asmodeus screams when what he has up his ass comes to life and sends light electric shocks on his prostate, making him cum instantly even though he's not even erect anymore. The Prince does not know what he has in the butt, but it is effective, we can not say the opposite. Not while he comes over and over again, while the device still tortures his prostate.

He has the impression that it is hours later that he finally falls back on the bed without strength. The object between his buttocks is withdrawn and a cool hand passes over his sweaty face.

— You were perfect my Angel, congratulates him his Lord. I'm so proud of you.

Asmodeus smiles weakly and turns his head slightly to rub his cheek against his Lord's hand.

— Sleep my Angel, you have deserved to rest.

Asmodeus obeys, because when his Lord speaks, he has only one desire, to do as he tells him.

***

Asmodée leaves his apartment with a perky step and when he passes in front of the tortured, he stops to observe the pregnant woman who is still being quartered. She doesn't even react anymore and the Prince frowns. It is not going well at all. She is meant to suffer, not to accept. He approaches the Master of Tortures and orders him:

— Make her eat her unborn child.

***

Lucifer watches Asmodeus walk past the damned souls and give orders to change the tortures they suffer. He smiles when he sees the thin smile on his offspring’s face.

When he realized that his son was not like his brothers, he became worried. You can say whatever you want about the King of the Underworld, he loves his children and doesn't want to lose them. However, a Prince who does not like torture or simply the Underworld must be put to death. He looked for solutions and even if it worked, he was amazed to find that his seventh son likes to be sexualy tortured. Nevertheless, he admits that Asmodeus always has a nice boost of creativity after a session.

— I told you it would work, said a man beside her.

— You were right, assures Lucifer. Thanks for doing this for my son, Gabriel.

— Oh, the pleasure is all mine, trust me, promises the Archangel.