Chapter 10: Chapter 9: Dinner

Laurelai was practically shivering with need as the two succubi began to towel her dry. They pretended that she was shivering from the cold, and offered soothing noises, but even if they were somehow ignorant of the lust that was radiating from her like a heat mirage, the pink throbbing light of her lewd crest was impossible to miss. It was all she could do not to touch herself in front of the demons. 

Once she was dry Ursona sat her down and began to do something to her that she never thought she’d have to endure: she started applying makeup. Rouge. Eyeshadow. Lipstick. Each new layer of cosmetic altered Laurelai’s face from one she barely recognized, to one that she’d never seen before. She had only barely come to grips with the fact that her body had been transformed into a woman’s, that her halo was gone, and that her wings were stained black like the night, and now the face she’d had for a week was replaced by someone else’s through a mundane layer of artistry that was every bit as effective as magic. 

“There she is,” Ursona murmured as she put on the finishing touches while Temona started to do something with Laurelai’s hair. “I knew that underneath all that shame was a beauty worthy of sitting at our master’s table.” Laurelai understood that the woman she was looking at was beautiful by anyone’s definition. It was obvious. The only thing she had trouble accepting was that the woman in the mirror was her, and that feeling only got worse when they brought out the outfit they intended on dressing her in. 

It was a mockery of the clean white toga she’d worn for so long. Instead of simply and cleanly covering the body without vanity though, this outfit was almost as lewd as either of the succubi's outfits. A top composed of strings of black pearls were used to form a crude bra that didn’t even manage to cover her nipples while they held up her breasts and made them look even more lascivious. Over the top of that, long thin strands of black cloth were wrapped around her upper and lower body. The result was something that might be confused for a toga if she stood completely still, but as soon as she did anything the outfit moved, causing dozens of slits to appear that anyone could glimpse her body through.  “This is worse than being naked,” she murmured, studying herself in the mirror. She'd literally become the inversion of everything she’d once been. It was impossible to ignore that. From her black wings and painted face, to her jiggling breasts and aching sex, she was every inch the whore the demon lord wanted her to be. 

“I know,” Temona whispered conspiratorially, “Isn’t it great?” The angel shivered at her words. It was great. That's what frightened her so much. The combination of beauty and desire was utterly intoxicating, and in the same way that it was a perfect mirror to who she’d been only days ago, it was an impossible contrast to the treatment she’d endured in hell so far. Until this moment everything about sexuality that she’d experienced had been raw and brutal… but tonight’s treatment at the hands of the succubi, and the shredded silk they’d dressed her in was anything but. 

Thraxusius was trying to tempt her. To claim her soul with trinkets the same way he’d claimed her body with lust, but she wouldn’t let him. She’d been tricked into behaving for a single night, but after that she’d drop this fancy dress and happily return to her usual outfit of nudity and defiance. 

The succubi spent the next half an hour doing her hair until it shone like spun gold, while they showered her with compliments that made Laurelai squirm uncomfortably. After that Chimara returned. “Our Lord will be pleased that your beauty will light his table.” she said with a slight bow. “He asked me to bring you this to complete the outfit.” 

Laurelai was surprised that even the succubus had gotten dressed up, for the occasion. She’d chosen to wear a suit rather than a dress of course, but perhaps that was more appropriate for whatever role she filled for Lord Bel, but the angel still found it odd. As odd as a woman wearing mens clothes might be it wasn’t as strange as the piece of jewelry that the Succubus offered her: a necklace of black diamonds and cut obsidian, with no visible clasp to open it.

“Thank you?” Laurelai said, unsure of exactly what she was supposed to do with it, “But I don’t think I need a necklace.” 

“Necklace? No - that would distract from the pearls you’re already wearing. This is a special piece of Jewelry just for you. Chimara took it back, and then gingerly lifted it above the angel where it simply hung there, even after the demoness let go. 

For a moment Laurelai was confused, but a quick look in the mirror and it suddenly all made sense. This was one more painful jab at how far she had fallen. It was a dark joke that only further highlighted the loss of her halo. Where once she had a ring of light radiating outward as a symbol of divine glory, she now had a sparkling black band floating above her head. It was tragic, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it, because no sooner was it in place than the succubus was dragging her from the dressing room she’d spent the last few hours in, back towards what she assumed was the banquet hall. 

“Come along darling,” Chimara cooed, “It won’t do to be late on your big day after all” escorted her downstairs to wherever this banquet was being held.

“Big day?” Laurelai asked, feeling more vulnerable now that every step practically made her outfit fall apart than she had when she’d first walked through the halls naked earlier in the day.  

“Of course,” the demoness answered. “Today is the day that Lord Bel shows off his prize to the other greater demon’s he’s allied with for the coming war.” The idea of being shown off made Laurelai blush, but she swallowed hard and tried to maintain her composure. She refused to look ashamed or afraid in front of an assemblage of such demons. 

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Assemblage was the right word for it too. As two brawny beast men opened the huge bronze doors to reveal what had to be the largest room in the fortress. Though not quite as elegant as the upper floors, it was still almost lovely, in a severe and martial sort of way. A large circular table dominated the center of the room, and torn banners and broken weapons that had to be trophies of war decorated the walls. The table was shaped like a large O, with a hollow center, and was large enough for at least thirty people to sit around the outside, while servants came and went along the inner ring so as not to disturb their betters. 

The hall was crowded with demons. Most of them were seated around the table, but there were a few small knots still speaking to each other. The room stank of evil to Laurelai, but she could do nothing for it. The threat of agony dangled over her head in a way that was almost as real as the false halo that was literally floating above her. All of the conversations ceased as the greater demons and arch demons slowly took notice of her. “There she is,” Thraxusius himself announced in his deep voice once the room had gone almost completely silent. “May I present to you, my own pet angel, the Lady Laurelai. By now you’d all heard the rumors, but I think you’ll all agree that seeing her in the flesh is infinitely more satisfying.” 

She almost flinched at the word ‘Lady,’ but managed to restrain herself. She kept her expression bland and featureless as she walked in the room, determined not to show weakness in front of all the hungry eyes that roamed her body with every step she took. 

“Come here pet,” Lord Bel rumbled, “You simply must eat before the entertainment begins.” Not for the first time she considered running from here as far and as fast as she could, but it only took a flicker of the idea to cross her mind before she could feel the cold chill of pain shoot through her body, and the only way she could relieve it was to start doing as she was told and walk towards her master. That was fine. For once she welcomed the pain. It distracted her from the feelings that all the eyes on her were stirring up. She’d been desperately horny since her bath, and the feeling of being eye-fucked by a room full of demons was making her nipples visibly hard and her pussy wet with need. 

Laurelai focused her attention on Lord Bel, doing her best to tune out the panoply of monstrosities that filled the room. Like everyone else he was looking his best. His crown of horns had been sharpened and polished to fine, gleaming points, and the jet black armor that he wore contrasted with his crimson skin in a way that would have been almost handsome if he weren’t so monstrous. It was only when she got close that she noticed the most monstrous detail of all though: his cloak was trimmed in angel feathers. No doubt that was a trophy worth showing off in the pits, but Laurelai knew that he’d worn it just for her, and it made her sick. 

“You look positively radiant tonight,” he said as she sat in the indicated seat at his left. She wanted to tell him exactly what she thought of him, as he laid his hand posessively on her right thigh, but decided that she would enjoy telling him just how awful he was more once this terrible geas had worn off, so she said nothing, and just sat there glaring straight ahead. 

Neither her glare nor her lack of need to eat or drink stopped the servants from serving her though. Soon her plate was overflowing with tender morsels of grilled loin and braised vegetables. It looked and smelled delicious, but she dared not eat it. The Goddess only knew what demons butchered for special occasions. That decision did nothing to stop her mouth from watering though. In all her years serving creation Laurelai had never eaten or drunk anything. She’d never wanted to, so it hadn’t been a temptation, but now it was. She’d already committed any number of terrible sins, so what would one more little one like eating really be on her already stained soul.

After a few minutes of silently sitting there, Lord Bel said, “You can try it if you want. It won’t hurt you.” 

“It's not my pain that I’m concerned about,” Laurelai answered coldly. 

Lord Bel let out a low rumbling laugh at that. “Very well angel, if it will make you better I swear on my true name that no sentient being is currently being served at this banquet. What you have in front of you is pork, not man flesh.” Laurelai shivered at the word currently, but said nothing as the temptation slowly grew. She managed to avoid eating any of her meal, but did eventually try a sip of the dark red wine in front of her while Thraxusius droned on and on to different guests about this battle or that alliance. Its taste was sour, which surprised her because she’d been expecting it to be sweet, but minutes later she could feel the slight edge of euphoria begin to creep up inside her.

She wasn’t meant to be a part of the conversation here, and no one tried to talk to her. She was a trophy as much as anything on the walls. The demon lord regularly bragged to the assembled demons that after the battles to come, any ally of his could find out just how good angel pussy felt, like the rest of his dark army. The comments were humiliating, and Laurelai tried to tune them out by drinking more wine, but that quickly proved to be a mistake. As her inhibitions unraveled, she found the stares and leers at her barely covered breasts to have more of an effect on her, rather than muting them as she’d hoped.  

Then at a signal from Lord Bel, the lights dimmed, and he stood. “Now that dinner is over, and you’ve all eaten your fill, I thought you might feast your eyes on a little something for dessert.” 

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