AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
This is bullshit. No matter what I try, I can’t bypass the stupid, ugly collar they locked onto me. My magic—carnalandinfernal—is completely blocked.
I scream, I cry, I punch the wall, but all I’m doing is wasting energy and scraping up my knuckles. The gross, handsy envy demon was right; unless I sprout wings, I’m not getting anywhere anytime soon.
Without access to demonic energy, I find that my sense of time in Hell is back to a human norm. In other words, I have no fucking clue how long I’ve been trapped up here.
Every once in a while, a hole opens in the coral wall or floor and a scaly hand drops off a plate of rancid slop that I think is supposed to be food. I guess Leviathan expects me to eat that crap, but I don’t touch any of it. Even if it looked appetizing, which is most certainly does not, I don’t trust him not to dose me with something.
I may not be able to tell time right now, but I know enough has passed that I’m not only parched and starving, I also have to pee.
I don’t think that’s something Leviathan planned for. Demons don’t have the same bodily functions as humans, so most of them don’t have need for, like, a toilet. I wonder how long I can hold it. I’d hate to have to ask one of the demons that drops off my food if they can kindly conjure me a commode for personal business.
It doesn’t help much that, outside the tower windows, the waves of Leviathan’s Sea continue to crash and churn. Constant water sounds. Right. Out. Side.
A larger porthole than normal opens up as I’m pacing and doing the potty dance, and in steps Leviathan. He’s in His human form, wearing loose linen pants and an open button-down linen shirt, all smooth muscle and tanned skin, but He could show up looking like Henry Cavill in a Speedo and I’d still shoot Him down. He might as well let me see His true form. If I can have sex with Az as a demon, then I’m sure I can handle the sight of a little sea monster.
Emphasis on “little.” Dude probably has a pencil dick. No well-endowed man goes to this much effort to land a chick.
“You seem restless, Calliope. Perhaps we can discuss an arrangement for you to have more freedom here?”
“AndYouforget the rules,Levi.”
He bows at the waist, a motion that would be almost regal if not for the half-mast boner He’s not even bothering to try to hide.
Yep. Pencil dick.
“My apologies, Callie. In Hell, most prefer to have me use their formal names.”
“I’m not most.” I cross my arms over my chest, partly to show my displeasure at His rude use of my full name, but mostly to hide my cleavage in the pseudo-toga I’d wrapped myself in. I could handle a mortal man or even Az ogling me, but Leviathan and His envy demons give me the creeps. I don’t like the idea of standing here freeballing in a sheet while He undresses me with His eyes. I’d much prefer to have more clothing for Him to mentally take off.
“That much is obvious.” He stalks around the perimeter of the tower room, eyeing me up and down as He goes. “Quite the beauty, for a human. Powerful, too. I sensed your power the moment you ported to My Realm.”
Oops. I didn’t count on that. No wonder He was able to set the trap so easily, to time it just right.
No sense worrying about that now. He’s got me, so I need to focus on staying alive and finding a way to get out. First thing’s first: survival. I need real food, real water, and a fucking toilet. Giving myself a bladder infection from holding it in won’t help anything. The healthier I am, the better. I lay out my demands for Leviathan as He watches from across the room.
He listens to my rant with no small amount of blatant disinterest. It’s like when a squirrel chatters at you for almost running it over; the small, tiny creature is obviously rightly pissed at the giant biped driving the two-ton hunk of metal, but most humans would consider themselves above the ire of such a pest.
I hate that I’m no better than a ground squirrel to this dude.
I also hate that His power is the metaphorical equivalent of the two-ton hunk of metal to my squirreliness. He could run right over me, squish me flat, and I’d be absolutely powerless to stop Him. How am I going to stop Him from doing whatever the fuck He wants with me?
Finally, after a long pause to consider my demands, Leviathan speaks up.
“Fine. A toilet is easy enough to conjure. And, if you wish, I can have one of My Minions butcher and cook your meals right in this room, to prove that no poisoning is taking place. However, I don’t see how I can quite bring you water that you’d trust. I can’t very well provide you with the necessary mortal tools to test it, because you’re surely resourceful enough to use those tools to escape. No, I’m afraid you’ll just have to drink whatever I deign to bring you, if you don’t want to die of dehydration, that is.”
I begrudgingly nod, accepting His terms. Not that I particularlywantto witness my meals being slaughtered and cut up in front of me, but if it means I can monitor the food prep and watch for any signs of dosing, I’ll take it. From a captor’s point of view, I guess I can see Leviathan’s point; there’s no way to adequately prove to me that any liquid He brings is pure, so I’ll just have to trust.
With those negotiations out of the way, Leviathan conjures a small, wooden stool, sets it down across from me, and perches on it with one ankle propped on the opposite knee. His stance is so relaxed that it makes me even more anxious than when He was pacing. It’stoorelaxed, like He has absolutely nothing to fear from me.
I swear, if I ever get this collar off, He’s gonna learn how wrong He is about that.
A small, black porcelain commode manifests in the room off to my right, near the wall, about halfway between Leviathan and me. I continue to hold my bladder because He’s still sitting there, unblinking, watching me.
“Well?”
He smiles and leans back on His stool. “Well, what?”
