Here's the majority of Chapter 4, because Ch. 1 pt 2, Ch. 2, and Ch.3 were too explicit to post on this site. To read the rest, visit Archive Of Our Own and the username Jaldabaoth666 where you can find 17 chapters already there.
In this chapter;
Demiurge brings his servant to the ranch to train her in cleaning Abelion Sheep hides for making low-tier magic scrolls. It's bloody and hard work, and she is isolated on the property with only a Doberman, used as a herding/guard dog as company. But she senses something isn't quite right when she notices several things are...odd about the place. And once in a while, she swears she can hear the sheep screaming for help.
We will all take a trip to the Devil's Playground.
Lillith scraped the last of the pale, rubbery remnants of flesh and sinew off the Abelion sheep hide with the dull metal tool in her hands. Afterwards she rolled it up and tossed it into the pile of the skins she had already finished prepping that day.
She and Lord Demiurge had went to work on his ranch in order to provide Lord Ainz with a large supply of scrolls for low tier magic. Here her master skinned the sheep and collected several pelts, and she was to clean them of hair and meaty remains so they could be tanned and cut for further processing.
Strangely enough, despite the dirty work they were doing, her Master never seemed to have a hair out of place or a speck of blood on his suit. She once wondered if he was using magic to complete his tasks while she only had the option of working with her hands, until one day while she was washing dishes in the kitchen, and she watched through the window as he exited the shed wiping bright red blood off his black gloves with a rag. She scolded herself for forgetting he is an Arch Devil, and killing and peeling the animal's flesh away was more than likely his favorite part of the job.
It was a tedious and dirty task, and it made her sincerely miss the homey comforts of working in the Tomb of Nazarick where she simply cooked, cleaned and dusted. Demiurge had his servant housed in a small, one bedroom cottage on the property. It had the bare necessities; a kitchen, a bathroom, a bedroom, and a basement which he made clear was off limits by chaining the door and securing it with a large padlock made for a skeleton key (she didn't even want to know what was in there anyways).
And then there was the shed she was to clean the pelts in.
She wiped sweat from her brow with her forearm and with a handful of fleshy scraps gathered in her hand, she leaned over the open window sill of the shed.
"Azazel! Here boy!" She called for her favorite dog out of the lot of herders and guards. A large, handsome Doberman bounded over to her and with a toothy grin and he eagerly swept the scraps out of her hand with his broad tongue. She rubbed his sharp muzzle and patted his head and he trotted back into the field to continue his work as a guard like a good boy.
Lillith was to toss the flesh scraps out the window, where they landed in large piles for all of the dogs used to herd and protect the sheep to eat. But she saved the best bits for Azazel. He was her favorite by far; he was friendly, playful, and highly intelligent. He had a fierce, regal face and fiery eyes, and with his tall pointed ears, he reminded her very much of demonic master (who day by day, she found herself to be oddly missing).
The leggy, ninety pound animal was convinced he was a lapdog but was colossal, and absolutely attention starved. He was a very sweet and beautiful creature, with his sleek jet black and deep burgundy coat. At night she would let him inside the cottage to sleep in her room; she had done this for almost 2 weeks now, and saw little of her master save for the occasional check-in every week where he would collect the pelts she finished cleaning and presented her with new ones to complete. He also provided her with a restock of the week's supply of food, water and soap for bathing and laundry.
The isolation of the ranch was almost eerie, and was gradually wearing Lillith down as the days bled into another. The only sounds were wind rustling through the few surrounding trees and of the Abelion sheep bleating and herding dogs barking as they kept them in line.
It was unnerving...every once in a while, the sheep sounded like people screaming 'Help.'
Maybe she was simply imagining things, or just plain losing her shit because it was so isolated here. She was isolated here.
But it was almost over. She just had two more days to go, and they would return to Nazarick. Demiurge had promised if she had done well, he would grant her access to the hot spring baths. She looked forward to that, and it was what helped her push through every day.
It made her deeply miss Tuare's company, and she even missed the seldom few words she would exchange with Lord Demiurge. Azazel's presence was her lifeline to her sanity; she tried desperately to forget how utterly alone she was by talking to him as though he could understand her. Only terrible things happened when she was alone in the brothel; like being locked in their rooms with the most dreaded and abusive clients. She ate her dinner in an unsettling silence, and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room grew louder as she became more aware of the uncomfortable quiet.
When it was time for bed, she went to the window and opened the shutters, and called for Azazel. With his sharp hearing he responded instantly, crossing the vast expanse of the field rapidly with cheetah-like strides. He soared through the window, almost landing on her. He skidded across the hardwood floor and bounced around the room excitedly, woofing and his nub wagging wildly as he spun himself around and lowered himself with play-bows.
"Someone sure is excited!" She laughed and crouched down to wrestle with him on the floor, careful to avoid his hard-kicking feet.
Lillith rubbed his belly, and noticed his muzzle was stained with dried blood. One of the sheep must have gotten out of line again.
The first time she witnessed how this was dealt with, she couldn't help but be rather disturbed.
It was her second day at the ranch, and Demiurge was supervising to ensure she had learned how to properly clean the skins before they were processed for tanning. This was the last day that he would stay on site for observation, and then he would leave her on her own for the next two weeks, only checking in twice a week to make a supply drop.
Lillith had just finished cleaning her first ten hides and was quite proud of herself. Demiurge even seemed relatively pleased with her work; although he did not express it verbally, his curt nod and allowance of her early lunch break was enough to give her a much need boost of confidence. She made them both a pot of strawberry and ginseng tea, and had been polishing off a cup whilst was absently looking out the window. She watched Azazel working in the field as he herded a small group of sheep from one holding area to the final enclosure - Demiurge called it the Butchering Ring. It had eight-foot high panels, and was constructed of heavy duty galvanized steel tubes, which were welded together by vertical posts and horizontal rails to form a sturdy structure. Lillith thought this to be unusual; from what she knew, sheep couldn't jump very high. Why would such tall barricades be necessary? But her Master ran the place efficiently so he must know what he was doing, so she didn't really question it.
One individual sheep was particularly rebellious, and repeatedly shed from the group.
Azazel barked and nipped at the heels of the stray animal, trying to steer it back into the herd. This was not unusual. She had seen them break off before, but they always rejoined the flock when he snapped at their hocks.
But this one failed to obey. It continuously darted this way and that, and refused to fall back in line. The Doberman barked sharply again and growled in warning, and the sheep then tried to skirt around him. Azazel charged forward then halted before it, eyeing it intently, using intimidation to in attempt coerce it back in place. The sheep then looked past the dog, and eerily seemed to be focusing on the cabin, as though it could see her, as though it knew she were watching this unfold. It again defied him, and fled, galloping directly for the cabin. The canine snarled and lunged, knocking it off balance and violently flipping it onto its back. Azazel seized it by the neck before sinking his teeth in beneath its chin, shaking his head violently and then mercilessly ripping upwards. Blood sprayed in high arcs and poor creature bawled and kicked out helplessly on the ground as the Doberman tore out its throat.
Satisfied the offender had been rendered immobile, Azazel then trotted away and resumed keeping the rest of the herd in line, licking the blood from his chops.
Lillith was stunned; she ran to Demiurge and found him in the living room, sitting cross legged and relaxed, glossing over a scroll. She told him that Azazel had just slaughtered one of his sheep.
"Did the sheep fall back in line and rejoin the herd when he bit at its heels?" He asked as he sipped his tea casually, not alarmed in the least.
"Well, no, but-"
"Then Azazel did what I have trained him to do." Demiurge cut her off, and set his cup down. "The Abelion sheep can be dangerous when they get loose. Azazel was simply doing his job. The animal will be processed immediately, so as not to go to waste." He stated as though this was a common occurrence and he were following standard procedure. He stood from the table and walked out the front door.
Lillith didn't understand. How can a sheep be dangerous?
She returned to the window to watch him. He approached the sheep, and nudged its backside with his shoe. It had not completely bled out yet, and tried to bleat, but only wetly gurgled; it was slowly suffocating as its lungs filled with blood. The demon's talons extended into scythes, and a swift slash silenced the animal as he severed its head in one fell stroke.
'Holy shit.'
Lillith cringed, but couldn't stop watching as he then grabbed the carcass by the hind legs and drug it to the shed to butcher it.
Azazel righted himself and yipped playfully, snapping her out of her thoughts.
"He was just doing his job." She reminded herself aloud.
Lillith truly hoped Demiurge wouldn't mind her letting him in as the dog helped her feel safe and less lonely. But what her master didn't know wouldn't hurt him. The Doberman was her only friend and comfort at the quiet ranch.
He hopped onto the bed with her and she stroked his smooth black pelt, feeling the thick, corded muscle underneath and scratching behind his long ears. He cuddled up next to her as she slid herself under the sheets, aligning his body with her side, helping her stay warm and laid his head over her lap protectively.
Before drifting off to sleep, Lillith contemplated asking Demiurge if she could take him with her when they returned to Nazarick. She had grown quite attached to him.
Lillith was sleeping soundly, when she heard what sounded like small footsteps trotting across the hardwood floor. She awoke in almost pitch darkness, her eyes taking a moment to adjust before she could make out a small, squat shadow standing next to her bed.
She glanced to her side where the dog had once lain, and he was nowhere to be seen.
"Azazel?" She groggily murmured, but the silhouette didn't move.
Whatever it was stood stock still, and she felt the hair on her arms prickle with fear. She reluctantly shifted her hand to the side of her headboard, blindly feeling for the box of matches without taking her strained and wary eyes off of whatever was there. She then lit a match to a candle on her nightstand, and when it was illuminated by the flickering golden light she was stunned to see something with a shorter and broader face than that of a Doberman. To her shock, it was an Abelion sheep instead, its coarse wool soaked with crimson splotches of blood.
'What the Hell?'
Lillith blinked dumbly at it, trying to decipher how the Hell it got in her room. Was she so exhausted after working today that she had carelessly left the front door open?
She sat up and moved to get out of bed in order to shoo it out when it opened it's mouth and screamed, but it didn't sound even vaguely reminiscent an animal. It sounded like the long, agonized wail of a human. Her hair stood on end and her pulse kicked wildly, and she watched in horror as it then grew, its legs extending, making bony snaps and pops and bending at impossible angles, its bloodied wool sloughing away from its flesh like a shed coat. It rose from the ground onto its hind legs, and had transformed into a man before her eyes. His back was hunched as his arms hung loosely at his sides, weighted by heavy steel manacles and chains. He was flesh loosely draped over a skeleton, so emaciated that she could count his ribs. His skin was waxy and sallow, and wearing the barest of tattered rags like a beggar. It hardly seemed necessary for someone so feeble to be bound and shackled.
He trembled, so weak and malnourished, his sunken eyes meeting hers pleadingly, as though he was begging for his life. And what precious little life he had left in him shimmered dimly in his hopelessly glassy gaze.
"How can you sit idly by, watching him do this? And HELP him do this to us?!" He whimpered accusingly, a single tear spilling from his right eye.
The raw fear in his eyes is what really twisted her heart into knots. It was the desperation of an animal that had been trapped, cornered, and had nothing left to lose.
And he was looking at her as though she were a monster.
'Why is he afraid of me?'
Her tongue was numb and thick in her mouth with shock. She couldn't reply. She tried to scream for Azazel, even for her Master, but nothing came out. Her throat didn't work. She was frozen like prey.
"He's ripping our skins off!" He bellowed in agony, his fragile frame slumping as an utterly heart-wrenching sob tore from his lungs; and then he stilled, like a rabbit would if it noticed a predator zeroing in on it. His eyes bulged, and only his lip quivered in fear. He was suddenly silent as the grave, as though he sensed something, dreaded something, like he could see the shadow of death itself threatening to swallow him alive. Even the walls of the room seemed to be holding their breath.
Icy fear trickled over Lillith's scalp, and her heart roared in her ears. A dizzying wave of nauseating dread then poured over her as well, as it dawned on her of who he was afraid of.
"Because she's such a good girl." A venomous hiss sizzled through the air, and suddenly Demiurge was towering behind the man. Stone cold terror settled into her stomach as the cruelest, most sadistic grin conceivable split his face open, and his fangs glinted wetly in the candlelight, the demon's eyes glowing with unholy evil, like red-hot embers from the deepest pits of Hell.
The sound of a dozen blades being drawn reached her ears, and the man's eyes beamed hopelessly into hers.
"Run." The man whispered, and all ten of her Master's scythed talons plunged clean through his chest, and it looked as though he had been impaled by a pair of pitchforks. Lillith felt hot blood splatter over her face and arms, and she jolted awake.
"Fuck!" Lillith gasped and panted, trying to slow her racing heart.
What the Hell was that about?
Lillith didn't sleep worth a damn after that.
She lie awake, tossing and turning, finding it utterly impossible to get comfortable in either body or mind. Her brain wouldn't quiet down, and once she relaxed enough to begin to doze, she would jerk awake as she felt herself falling over the edge of oblivion.
Maybe there was something in her tea that messed with her head, she could only speculate it was a bad batch with rotten ginseng or molded berries, because that was certainly one of the most twisted dreams she had ever had. She wondered if it had affected Demiurge at all.
'Just to be safe, I'm never drinking that again.'
Lillith had given up on falling asleep by 7 am. She desperately wanted to just go back to bed and catch at least a few hours of sleep, but there was work to be done and she didn't want to be on the receiving end of her Master's wrath for falling behind on the job. She reluctantly crawled out of bed and listlessly shuffled to the kitchen. A pot of coffee should charge her batteries enough to at least get through the day.
She just had to power through her exhaustion and push herself to finish fifteen skins and then she could take a break. She considered sleeping through her half-hour lunch break just to get some much needed rest, but she felt so drained and hollow inside that she feared she wouldn't wake up when she needed to and hated to think what would happen if Demiurge showed up to drop off weekly supplies and found her snoozing instead of adding to the pile of pelts.
Lillith mulled over the disturbing dream as she scraped and peeled away the veinous membranes and what it could possibly mean, and concluded she was simply feeling guilty for aiding in the helpless animals' slaughter.
But she shouldn't feel that bad. They were just livestock. Sheep and cattle were slaughtered for food and materials all the time. Why did it just now bother her to the point that she was having nightmares over it?
If she thought that Demiurge would care, she would bring it up to him. But he was a man of few words and she highly doubted he would bother to contemplate the significance of it.
Lillith felt as though simply talking about it would likely help her lift some of what was weighing on her mind, and it made her miss Tuare even more now. She could always talk to her about anything.
As she worked, she tried to distract herself by thinking of literally anything else. How was Tuare doing? What would she be doing in Nazarick right now? What would she be cooking for dinner tonight for the Tomb?
And yet her thoughts repeatedly drifted back to the nightmare.
"How can you sit idly by, watching him do this? And HELP him do this to us?!"
The way he uttered those words so accusingly, as if she had any sort of power to stop Demiurge, or any control as to what she was commanded to do. She was equally as imprisoned and helpless as he had looked. Lillith had no doubt that failure to obey her demonic Master would result in serious injury or even death.
That poor man's eyes glistened with raw terror, and how he was looking at her as if she were an accomplice to murder made her uncomfortable on the deepest level. As if she were conspiring with the Devil himself. That was what fucked with her head most of all.
'Don't put so much thought into it. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. Sheep can't transform into people.'
It was just a dream. A really, really fucked up dream.
The day stretched on endlessly, and her strength was completely sapped by 7pm. Her arms were screamingly sore from scraping flesh and her feet ached from standing for twelve hours. She had powered through the day and completed forty-two hides, and hoped that would be enough to satisfy her Master, because she was totally beat. She went to bed with Azazel in tow and immediately passed the fuck out.
Demiurge pushed her back roughly against the stone wall, his eyes burning with furious lust like white-hot flame. Lillith gasped as his claws dug into her wrists as he pinned her arms on either side of her head. He nestled his face into the crook of her neck, dragging his tongue along her pulse. The demon ground his hips into hers as he then bit raggedly along her collar bone.
"Master, please..." She begged, shamelessly craving any form of penetration. "Please?"
"Well, since you asked so politely..." He chuckled against her skin, seemingly amused by how wanton she sounded.
She cried out as he jarringly spun her around, shoving her forward harshly by the back of her neck. Her cheek and palms were now flat against the wall's cool surface, the claws arming his other hand piercing the flesh of her shoulder through her dress.
He used his other hand to peel her skirt upward and rip her underwear off, wasting no time in slamming his firm erection into her moist heat with a grunt. She wailed in ecstasy, the force of the brutal thrust stretching her to the fine line of pain and pleasure.
The demon gutturally growled in response as he thrust viciously, and within eight strokes she was already cresting on the edge of climax when he fisted her hair to and yanked her neck backwards at a painfully unnatural angle, and rested his head on her shoulder to hiss in her ear.
''Wake up.''
She jolted awake with slickened thighs, panting and a throbbing ache of unfulfilled need pulsing urgently between her legs. She angrily groaned in utter frustration through clenched teeth and flopped back down on to the pillow. Azazel's head popped up inquisitively.
"Sorry boy, I didn't mean to wake you too." She apologized and rubbed his muzzle.
Dreams like this had tormented her ever since her last tryst with her Master, but they had gotten even worse since they had left Nazarick and Demiurge had cruelly denied her the right to satisfy herself. In each dream she was brought to the edge of release by The Arch Devil, and then would somehow or another awaken before completion. She had quickly become addicted to the adrenaline and endorphins that his violent sexual aggression forced her body to release, and in his absence she was beginning to crave his fix and was experiencing withdrawal. Lillith would give literally anything for her master to burst into the room and fuck her senseless right now.
Still, if given a choice, she would gladly take these dreams over the twisted nightmares involving sheep-men any day.
But the throbbing ache between her thighs took far too long to fade.
She often considered the temptation of self gratification but the idea of being controlled by a shock collar was not a pleasant one, and she did not doubt the demon would make good on the threat. This was absolute torture.
A steely rattle down the hall startled her.
Then a brief flashback to her dream about the shackled man sent an icy chill of anxiety slithering down her spine.
Azazel's ears pricked forward as his acute hearing also detected the noise, and he gave a low, throaty growl. The Doberman jumped off the bed, and quietly trotted out of the room, keeping his nose low to the ground as he did a perimeter sweep, true to his protective nature.
He returned a few moments later, and hopped back up with Lillith, resuming his position stretched lengthwise along side her and laid his head over his thigh. He didn't seem concerned in the least.
"Well? What was it?" She asked as though he could answer.
She heard the sound again, and her anxiety was replaced by morbid curiosity. If Azazel wasn't alarmed, it should be safe to check it out, shouldn't it?
Lillith crept out of bed and cautiously peered around the doorway. She glanced left, then right.
She jumped and cringed instinctively as a violent slam rattled the entire cottage drew her gaze to the basement door. It shook violently, loudly jangling the chains and heavy padlock with metallic racket.
What the Hell was locked in there?
Something inhuman lowed behind the fortified barrier, and it made the hair on the back of her neck flare.
'Fuck.'
If every fiber of her being didn't tell her it would mean her death, she would be tempted to open the door and peek behind it just out of kittenish curiosity, but it was chained closed.
Seemingly drawn by magnetic force, she moved towards the door, and slowly leaned against it to listen.
She could hear muffled chuffs, and see a shadow pacing back and forth on the other side beneath the narrow crack under the door. Something or someone, was definitely being kept prisoner in the basement.
"I would not too close."
Lillith shrieked and swiveled to see her Master watching her snoop around, his hands clasped behind his back. She dropped to her knees and waited until he gave her a brief motion of his hand that permitted her to stand.
"He is still mildly sedated, but I suppose the anesthetic was not quite enough. I had expected him to be down for another twenty-four hours." Demiurge sighed.
"What is it?" Lillith asked, heeding his advice and taking a nervous step back.
"My latest experiment. Abelion sheep hides are of low to mid-grade quality, and make for very low tier scrolls for magic. I have been experimenting with their genetics to see if we can crossbreed other species with them, in theory that this may improve the quality of their hides." He explained. "Behind that door is my most promising hybrid. Tomorrow I will severe a limb to skin and test, in order to determine if my experiment was successful."
'Holy shit, he is legitimately a mad scientist. And more than likely a fucking psychopath.'
"Why not butcher the whole thing?" Lillith asked. It seemed excessively cruel to make it suffer by hacking off a limb.
"If my theory is proven correct, I intend to breed him to create more. I have several ewes chosen for him already that I believe will make suitable dams. I cannot very well do that if he is dead." Demiurge said dryly.
"How...how can he breed if he is missing a leg?" Lillith couldn't help but giggle.
"A healing potion will be administered to regenerate the lost limb. Although, it would be rather amusing to watch him try..." Demiurge smirked.
Lillith immediately regretted giving him the idea. She harbored little doubt he was just cruel enough to watch the poor creature struggle in such a way.
"I see you let Azazel inside." He said casually as the dog innocently trotted out of her bedroom and inistently nudged her hand with his muzzle, asking for a head scratch.
'Shit.'
"Yes, Master. I'm sorry, Master. I hope you don't mind...I've been lonely." She apologized and patted his head. "He-he makes me feel safe."
"I do not mind. He knows to finish the job before turning in at nightfall. The other guards take watch in his absence."
Lillith breathed a sigh of relief. She thought he would be angry for sure.
"Does the presence of an animal give you comfort as it would if it were another human?" He asked curiously, his head tilting slightly.
"Um...not exactly, but it does make me feel less lonely to have someone to talk to as though he could understand me."
Demiurge looked thoughtful. "So even though you know he does not comprehend your language, to speak to him as if he could brings you comfort?"
The Arch Devil's tone was not rude or condescending in the least, but the terms in which he put it almost made it sound as though he were asking if she were dumb.
"...Yes, I guess you could say it does." She admitted coyly.
"Interesting..." Demiurge mused and pushed his spectacles more securely onto his face. "I did not know humans took such interest in creatures less superior than themselves."
Lillith felt more at ease when he clarified that his question was not designed to belittle her but purely of inquisitive interest.
"How many hides did you complete today?"
"Forty-two. I'm sorry, Master, I would have done more, but I haven't been sleeping well." She confessed, and bowed at the waist, hoping to soften any anger she may have incited.
"Forty two?" He repeated quietly. Too quietly. "Show me your work."
'Shit.'
Lillith didn't like how calm he sounded; as though he had expected more and she had fallen short of his expectations.
As though she had displeased him.
"Yes, Master." She squeaked out, apprehensively walking to the front door, tailed by her Master and out into the darkness.
The night air was crisp and cool on her skin as she timorously made her way to the shed. Crickets chirped their evening chorus and she estimated it to be around 3 am in the morning by how high the full moon hung in the sky, casting a gentle, frosted glow on all that it touched. She opened the large double doors to the shed for her Master, and the demon stepped inside, the tip of his claw summoning a small flame to light a row of a dozen candles aligning a work bench for adequate visibility in the dark building.
She waited outside, giving him wide berth to analyze her work. She watched him with increasing anxiousness swelling in her chest as he examined the hides she had completed with a scrupulous gaze, his tail swaying behind him and he gave a curt nod after he looked each one of them over.
"HeeEEEeeellllp."
Lillith's blood chilled in her veins and ran cold. She slowly, hesitantly looked over her shoulder to the Butchering Ring. The moonlight, while dim, still provided enough illumination to make no mistake that what she saw was an Abelion sheep standing on its hind feet and bracing its forelegs against the bars of the panel.
Like a prisoner clutching the iron bars of his cell as he begged for release.
It was looking directly at her, and there were splotches staining its wool. But the night was too dark for her to positively make out as to whether it was blood or not.
'What. The. Fuck.'
She took a few tentative steps towards it, still not quite believing what she was seeing. Her heart hammered in her chest.
"HeeeEEeelllp!"
Every hair on her body prickled with fear, and chilly dread settled like cold stones filling her stomach.
Something wasn't right.
'Is this another dream?'
"I honestly did not expect you complete more than thirty a day."
Lillith jumped out of her skin.
"D-did you hear that?" She whispered, turning to the demon, wild-eyed, and then looked back to the sheep.
"Hear...what?" Demiurge asked.
"The sheep...it sounded like it was screaming for help." She said and swallowed thickly. "Jus-just like in my nightmare."
Demiurge glared at the one she was staring at which stood with it's cloven hooves propped against the enclosure, and his enraged gaze held enough heat to melt glass. To her surprise, it promptly dropped back onto all fours, and slowly backed away from the bars.
As if it were afraid of him.
"You humans, applying anthropomorphic aspects to inferior creatures." The Arch Devil smirked, and shook his head lightly. "It is most amusing."
"But- but I think I heard-"
"You said you were not sleeping well." He snipped. "You must still be sleep deprived. This can easily cause visual as well as auditory hallucinations." In contrast to the silky undertones of his scientific explanation, his eyes seared into hers with a veiled threat.
It was a look that said she had better shut up, or she really wouldn't like what happened next.
'Just drop it. If you don't, you're going to piss him off more.'
She fell silent and after an awkward stretch she decided to change the subject.
"Yo-you really think I did well? Did I clean them sufficiently?" Lillith asked shakily, her body still taut with tension, adrenaline and fear still pumping through her veins.
"Indeed, I am surprised to say that I pleased with your work...I think it is only fitting to reward you for your compliance." The demon praised his servant as he looked down on her, his gaze of scorn shifting seamlessly into one of pride. "Come."
The story darkens considerably from here.
To read the rest, visit Archive Of Our Own and the username Jaldabaoth666 where you can find 17 chapters already there.