Erotic Desires

Demons of Lust (part 4)

Get up! No use moping; crying will get you nowhere.

I push myself off of the wet rock, slipping and scraping my arm as I struggle to control my shaking body. Focusing on the icy pain, I encase my heart with that same cold, feeling it harden and add steel to my reserve. It seems silly, but blaming Asmodeus for this latest injury makes it easier for me to envision hating him. He did this to me.

While I haven’t quite managed hate just yet, I feel some satisfaction that my fear has – at least – turned into a soaring anger. I let it rage within me and my breathing speeds up. Curling my fists and squaring my shoulders, I resolve right now to return to my family as soon as possible.

But how to do that? Think Selena.

I know better that to hope I will find some magical, secret exit. If I ever want to leave this place I’ll have to be pretty fucking smart. I have to find a weakness of his somehow, something he’s said or done which will help me figure out a way to leave safely. Think, think! There must be something, a weak spot, an escape, a loophole; something. If I could find that one thing, I know I will be free.

A loophole.

As soon I realise his weakness, the loophole blares sharply in my mind and a plan forms under the idea. Suddenly, I have it, that one thing that will guarantee me safe passage home.

Right, first things first; get dressed.

If I have any hope of my plan working out, I have to let Asmodeus believe that I’m still under his spell. That means getting dressed in one of those ridiculously elaborate gowns and parading before him as if nothing is wrong. That is, until he slips. Then I’ll have my freedom, away from this wretched, volcanic prison and its gorgeous demonic warden.

I bite my lip, berating myself for that last thought. I’ve known since its inception that my plan’s fatal flaw is me. There’s no telling what my pathetic heart will make me feel when I see him; or what my treacherous body will make me do.

Best not to think about it. I’ll deal with those obstacles as they come.

Deciding that this is the best course of action, I scrub my body thoroughly with the earthy soap and lather some of it into my hair, washing away dirt, sweat, blood and tears. When I’m done, I step out of my waterfall shower and stand shivering for a moment until I register the sound of air rushing through a gap somewhere. Following the sound to its source, I find a large vent opened up in the ceiling.

Excitement courses through me. Could this be a way out?

Clouds of dust swirl beneath the spot and I wait for it to clear before standing directly below. The air pressure is so great however, that I cannot even look up from underneath. My heart sinks as I realise that even if the airflow was slower, I wouldn’t have a way to reach the gap anyway – it’s just too high up. The air is warm though and steadily begins to dry me off. Letting out a resigned sigh, I relax as the vent dries my body and focus again on my original plan.

As my hair dries, I wish for a comb to untangle the snarling mess. In the blink of an eye I notice a dressing table begin to rise from the stone floor. Slowly it ascends, finding a place next to the chest of dresses, the rock rumbling and scraping against the cave wall. After it has fully formed, a small stool of sorts rises before it and a crude box grows on top of it.

Stepping away from the relentless blast of air, I walk over to inspect my new furniture. Stopping at the table I run a hand over the rough edges of everything I have just created. I know it’s my work because it isn’t as beautiful as Asmodeus’. Lifting the lid of the box (which looks like little more than a miniature mud hut) I find a curved, primitive looking – though slender – ivory coloured comb. With only five teeth, it will barely do the job but it’s better than nothing I suppose.