The invitation arrived with a weight that surpassed the mere parchment it was inscribed upon. A heavy, gilded envelope, thick with opulence and menace, materialized on your desk without warning. The black seal, still sizzling from its molten wax, bore the unmistakable crest of Mammon—the Prince of Greed. The wax emitted the faintest aroma of sulfur and something far more decadent: gold, melted by fire, mingling with the infernal scent of indulgence.
As you stood there, the air in the room seemed to shift, tightening around you, thick with anticipation. Hell had its ways of making its presence felt, but this was something different. There was an oppressive weight in the room, as if the very essence of Greed had found its way inside, watching, waiting for your next move.
You approached the letter cautiously, your hand hovering just above the seal. There was a gravity to this moment, a sense that this wasn't just a letter—it was a summons, a call to step into something far larger than yourself. The seal broke with a soft snap, the wax crumbling under your touch. The letter unfurled on its own, the page crackling with power, its inked words glowing faintly in the dim light of your room.
"To the Mortal who has captured my interest,
You are summoned to my court. Treasures beyond your wildest dreams await those who prove themselves worthy. I have watched you, as I watch all things worth possessing, and it seems you have caught my eye.
Come. The wealth of Hell is within your grasp, but do not keep me waiting.
—Mammon, Prince of Greed"
Each word felt heavy, as if laden with promises too great to ignore. As the letter dissolved in your hands, the room darkened briefly, shadows creeping into every corner. Left in its place was a single gold coin—heavy, warm, as though freshly pulled from molten treasure. You turned it over, feeling the heat sear into your skin. Etched into the face of the coin was Mammon's sneering visage, a grin too wide, too knowing. The coin burned with a subtle but constant heat, mocking your hesitation.
You had heard of Mammon, of course. Who in Hell hadn't? His name was a curse whispered by demons, a title that embodied everything wicked and consuming. Mammon was not just a prince of Hell—he was greed incarnate. His reach extended far beyond mere wealth. To encounter him was to face the insatiable hunger for more, the endless void that could never be filled. And now, he had chosen you.
There was no mistaking what this meant. You were not the first mortal to catch the eye of Mammon, and you certainly wouldn't be the last. But none had ever emerged from his court unscathed, for Mammon's favor came at a cost—one far greater than gold or riches. Those who earned his attention often found themselves drowning in a sea of unrelenting desire, their souls forever bound to his hunger.
You stood in silence, the coin still searing into your palm. Your heart raced, a thousand thoughts crashing through your mind at once. What would it mean to accept? What would it cost? Power, riches, influence—they were temptations that whispered to you in the quiet moments of your life, growing louder as Mammon's words lingered in the air. And now, here was your chance to claim all of it. But at what price?
Before you could even contemplate the enormity of it all, the air in the room shifted once more, this time with a sudden coldness. The shadows deepened, and a low, rumbling sound echoed through the walls. A gust of wind swept through, snuffing out the dim light, leaving you in near darkness. And then, from the gloom, a voice—silky, arrogant, and impossibly deep—filled the space around you.
"Such hesitation… I expected more from someone who caught my eye."
The voice was unmistakable, dripping with power and self-satisfaction. Mammon. He did not need to appear in any grand spectacle; his mere presence was felt in the weight of his words, the sheer authority he commanded. Slowly, out of the thick shadows, he materialized—not as a common demon might, in a puff of smoke, but with the regal bearing of a king who knew the universe bent to his whims.
The smell of molten gold and something darkly sweet clung to the air as Mammon stepped forward. He was adorned in robes that shimmered with the gleam of a thousand jewels, each stone likely stolen from realms untold, and his skin, pale and flawless, caught the dim light in such a way that it made him appear otherworldly. His eyes, sharp and greedy, locked onto you with the intensity of a predator who had already decided his prey's worth.
Mammon smiled, a sharp, predatory grin that made your blood run cold. He was every bit as beautiful as he was terrifying, and the way he looked at you—like you were nothing more than a prized possession, a glittering gem to be added to his hoard—left you feeling exposed.
"Did you think a letter would suffice?" Mammon's voice rolled over you like honeyed poison. "No, no. I wanted to see you for myself. To see if you're truly worth the interest you've garnered."
You forced yourself to breathe, your heart hammering against your ribcage as his gaze raked over you. He didn't see you as a person—at least, not in the way you were used to. He was appraising you, sizing you up as though you were a rare artifact, something to be evaluated, bought, and possessed. The weight of his presence made your skin prickle, your senses screaming at you to be cautious. This was no ordinary demon—this was Greed made flesh, and he had come for you.
"I… I didn't refuse," you managed to say, the words sounding weak even to your own ears. "But I need to know… what do you want from me?"
Mammon's grin widened, his emerald eyes glinting with amusement. He took a step closer, his movements slow and deliberate, every inch of him radiating control. He didn't need to rush—he knew you were already caught in his web.
"What do I want?" he purred, his voice a velvet whisper as he leaned in just close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. His fingers, long and sharp, traced the edge of your desk, the gold adorning his fingers glinting in the low light. "I want everything. That is always what I want."
He stopped just short of touching you, his finger hovering near your chest, the heat from his presence making it hard to breathe. "But you… you may be different. You may have something more to offer. You see, I don't simply want your soul or your obedience. I want your potential. Your ambition."
His words curled around you like smoke, intoxicating and dangerous. There was something undeniable about the way he spoke, the way he saw straight through you, stripping away your defenses like they were nothing.
"You're hungry for more, aren't you?" Mammon whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I can smell it on you—the desire for power, for recognition. For more. You've hidden it, but it's there, festering, growing stronger every day. That's why you're here. That's why you're still standing in front of me."
Your throat tightened, a shiver running down your spine as Mammon's gaze pierced through you. He had unearthed something within you, something dark, something you had tried to bury. You could feel it stirring now, a dangerous, thrilling hunger for everything he was offering.
"I..." You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. Mammon's gaze bore into you, sharp and unrelenting, daring you to deny the truth he had just spoken. You could feel the weight of his presence pressing down on you, making it difficult to think clearly.
Mammon chuckled softly, the sound dark and knowing. He leaned back slightly, giving you just enough space to breathe, but his eyes never left yours. "There's no need to deny it," he said, his voice low and smooth. "That hunger inside you—it's what makes you valuable to me. And I reward those who have value."
His hand moved again, this time tracing the air just in front of you, as if he were toying with the idea of touching you but holding back, savoring the tension. "I could give you everything you've ever desired. Wealth, power, influence... It would all be yours. You'd never want for anything again."
His words wrapped around you like a promise, sweet and deadly. There was no doubt in your mind that Mammon could deliver on every offer he made. But with every promise came the unspoken cost—a price you were only beginning to understand.
"What do you want in return?" you asked, your voice steady despite the swirling thoughts in your mind.
Mammon's smile widened, revealing perfect, gleaming teeth. "Oh, it's simple," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. "I want your ambition, your drive. I want to see you rise above the rest, to claim what's rightfully yours. And in doing so, you will serve me. Willingly or not."
The way he said it made your heart skip a beat. Mammon wasn't offering you a simple deal; he was offering you a path—a path that led to unimaginable power but also one that would bind you to him forever. You could feel the gravity of his words, the way they pulled at you, tempting you to step into his world fully.
But Mammon wasn't finished. He stepped closer again, his face mere inches from yours, his voice a whisper. "Of course," he said, "there's more to this arrangement than just business. You intrigue me, mortal. I want to see just how far you're willing to go to get what you desire."
You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as Mammon's meaning became clear. His eyes flicked over you, taking in every detail, and for the first time, you realized that Mammon didn't just want your ambition—he wanted you. Every part of you. And that realization sent a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through your veins.
"I..." You hesitated, unsure of what to say, but Mammon's gaze never wavered. He was waiting, watching, savoring every second of your indecision.
The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until Mammon finally spoke again, his voice soft but commanding. "I don't like to wait, mortal. You will decide now."
His words hung in the air, an ultimatum you couldn't ignore. Every instinct in your body screamed at you to walk away, to refuse this devil's bargain before it was too late. But there was another part of you—darker, more desperate—that whispered a different truth. This was your chance. Your opportunity to seize everything you had ever wanted.
Your hand clenched around the coin still burning in your palm. The heat was almost unbearable now, but you couldn't let it go. The weight of Mammon's offer pressed down on you, urging you to make the choice.
And as you stood there, the decision settled within you. You would accept.
Mammon's grin widened, as if he had known your answer all along. His eyes glinted with satisfaction, his voice a low purr. "Good choice, mortal."
Before you could respond, the world around you shifted. The air grew colder, darker, as if the room itself was being pulled into a different dimension. The shadows stretched, warping and twisting, and the ground beneath your feet began to tremble. Mammon didn't move, but you could feel his power swelling, filling the space around you.
"Now," he said, his voice echoing in your mind, "let us begin."
The walls of your room melted away, replaced by a vast, sprawling palace made of gold and obsidian. The opulence was overwhelming—massive columns, gilded arches, and floors made of shimmering gold that reflected every flicker of light. But it wasn't just the wealth that struck you—it was the sense of greed that permeated everything. Every surface, every corner, seemed to pulse with the hunger for more.
Mammon stepped forward, his robes billowing as if caught in an invisible wind. "Welcome to my domain," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "This is where you will prove your worth."
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Preview of next chapter:
The tendrils moved with a terrible grace, climbing higher, wrapping themselves around your calf, your thigh, tightening with each inch they gained. Their touch was strangely electric, sending small jolts of sensation through your skin, stirring something deep within you. You tried to shake them off, to free yourself from their grasp, but the more you struggled, the more they seemed to feed on your resistance, their grip becoming firmer, more insistent.
One tendril, thin and sleek, coiled around your waist, snaking its way under your clothes with the same deliberate slowness. You gasped as it slid across your skin, cold at first, then heating as it moved, its touch lighting a fire deep within you. It wasn't just fear you were feeling anymore—it was something else. Something darker, more primal.
The tendrils wrapped tighter around your body, their movements precise, as if they were searching for something, testing your limits. You could feel one of them slithering up your inner thigh, brushing dangerously close to your growing arousal. Your breath hitched, and your heart raced as you realized what was happening, the thrill of it mixing with the terror, creating a strange, intoxicating heat.
The tendril paused for a moment, hovering just below your cock, teasing you with its proximity. The anticipation was unbearable, the need building within you as the darkness seemed to sense your growing desire. Then, with a sudden, deliberate movement, it slid upward, wrapping around your length with a slow, languid stroke.
