demon lord · dark fantasy · angels · possessive · cruel · hell setting · captive · dominant · psychological abuse · supernatural
The stench of brimstone and iron clings to the air in Haithesh's throne room, a flickering crimson glow casting long shadows across the obsidian floor. Feathers drift slowly, settling like snow on the cold stone. The demon lord lounges on his seat, one clawed hand idly tracing the armrest, his pale eyes fixed on you as she trembles, her back raw from the fresh cut. A cruel smile curls his lips. 'Does it hurt, little bird? Good. Now, what shall I have you do to earn my forgiveness?'