De Sade stared out his window and brooded. Sasha, that mouthy wench, had had the nerve to accuse him of pouting. Ridiculous, of course. A man of his breeding never pouted.

Brooding though, that was an appropriate response to his current situation. After all, he was here, in his own chambers, and missing all the fun, rather than one floor up in the playroom. Even now he imagined he could almost hear the sting of the lash and the cries of pain and pleasure from the new arrival. Such a fine-looking young man! A rare treat indeed and one he had been allowed to have no part of. It had been this way for five days now.

“How is it my fault that the blasted hunter is taking so long? Why am I being punished for his incompetence?” De Sade slapped the cat-o-nine-tails hard across his own naked thigh in frustration but it just wasn’t the same joy as lashing another. Even that had been denied him. Graveek had removed him from training duty for the new slaves, knowing how much he enjoyed breaking them in properly.

You bitch. The day will come when it is I who is the Master! On that day, I will teach you entirely new lessons on the sweet release of agony. You will beg for it as the smoke leaks from your flesh. You will-

Movement down in the courtyard caught his attention and interrupted his favorite fantasy. One of the guards was hurrying into the keep. Out at the front gate, De Sade could just see another guard standing at the parapet and talking to someone beyond the metal portcullis. Someone who was standing in the road awaiting entry.

“Could it finally be him?” he asked himself, then clapped his hands together with a child’s glee. “It must be! Oh, happy day!” Pulling his trousers back up, de Sade rushed out the door and down the spiraling staircase just as the guard was coming up.

“Yes?” The Marquis sniffed at the man. “Report, you fool.”

“The Baroness…” the guard mumbled.

De Sade knew Graveek left standing orders to be notified directly whenever anyone approached the castle, whether by road or by air. The guard knew it as well but as a member of Graveek’s harem, De Sade had almost as much authority as his Mistress. The guard knew that as well.

It was fun to stand in his way and watch the man sweat. Pain could be inflicted in any number of creative ways. Physical torture was best, of course, but mental torture was also amusing.

“Well?” De Sade snapped at him, eyes wide with mock outrage. “Are you a dog waiting for a scratch behind the ear? Speak, man!”

There was violence behind the guard's hooded eyes at being spoken to in such a demeaning manner. De Sade could feel it’s warm glow against his skin. So exciting! Would the man give in to his anger, knowing the punishment would be severe?

But no, of course not. De Sade watched as the guard hung his head in defeat, and smiled at the sweet taste of domination.

“There is a visitor at the gate requesting entry.”

“Did he give a name?” De Sade blurted in excitement. “Is it Karl Denke? Does he have a Helhound with him?”

“Yes and yes, m’lord,” the guard replied.

“Move out of my way, you oaf!”

Practically skipping, both delighted by his arrival and enraged by the delay, de Sade flew down the stairs. He rushed across the rust-colored dirt of the inner courtyard, heedless of the dust settling onto his polished shoes and fine clothes, and flinging scathing insults at the guards for not opening the gate quick enough to let him pass. Across the outer courtyard, he sped and up to the metal latticework of the portcullis, breathing heavily at the unaccustomed burst of exercise.

Through the bands of metal he saw a large man of bronze and black. Bronze skin stood out against long, shaggy black hair, black jacket, and trousers. His boots though were of an odd design, heavily scuffed, and a dull brown, which de Sade thought to be an oafish choice. One simply did not wear brown boots with black clothing. It just wasn’t done! Even his complexion was an unfortunate darker shade than one would expect of a Prussian.

Poor mongrel no doubt has some unfortunate Spaniard in his family tree, he decided.

Despite these unfortunate characteristics, the man certainly looked the part. Dark green eyes stared back at him. A pair of pistols hung from lean hips along with a dagger. Slung across his broad back was a long, powerful-looking rifle. In his left hand was a rope tied around the thick neck of a savage, snarling Hell Hound. In his right was a leash around the neck and bound hands of…

De Sade felt a thrill of excitement. It was her! The Succubus he had seen in Gomorrah.

Happy day!

“Denke, welcome!” De Sade smiled and offered an elaborate bow from the waist. “I trust your hunt was successful?”

The man yanked on the leash around the demon girl’s neck, nearly toppling her to the ground. “Just this one left,” he growled. “Open the damned gate.”

“Of course!” De Sade scowled at the guard on gate duty. “Are you deaf, you fool? Open the gate for our guest!”

The guard leaned into the hand crank and, turn by turn, slowly raised the heavy portcullis. When it was head high, Denke urged both Succubus and Hellhound to pass beneath the metal teeth of the gate hanging over their heads.

De Sade fell back with a look of disgust as the Hound snarled at him. “You will, of course, need to cage your beast.”

“Where?” Denke replied as he yanked on the leash to drag the Hound back.

“A man of few words!” De Sade gave a nervous titter of laughter. “I admire that.” He fluttered his fingers over at a long, low building on the right. “”Any of those cages will do.”

Denke nodded once and proceeded to drag the slavering hound over to the pens. De Sade walked with him while keeping a safe distance. “Shall I hold your prize for you while you get the beast settled?” he leered at the lavender skinned Succubus, already reaching for her.

“No,” the hunter said with a hard glare. “My Master said this one’s flesh is mine.”

“Of course.” De Sade smiled. “Perhaps you would allow me to tenderize her properly for you-”

“No!” The hunter snapped, then seemed to consider his words. “Perhaps,” he amended reluctantly and handed the leash over.

“How lovely!” De Sade beamed and leaned in behind the bound Succubus. “I sensed your essence back in Gomorrah,” he whispered against her neck. “So vibrant! I ache to taste your fear.”

Denke cursed and kicked at the snarling Hell Hound until it was safely secured in one of the reinforced pens. To de Sade’s profound disappointment, he returned and reclaimed the demon’s leash.

“Until later,” he whispered to the lovely Succubus just before Denke took her back.

“This way,” De Sade gestured. “The Baroness will be eager to hear all about your successful hunt.”

 

 

 

*****

 

“Be calm.”

“I am calm,” Logan mentally growled back at Coyote.

“Oh? Then why are images of you beating this man into a paste spilling all over your thoughts?”

Logan glanced over at De Sade. He was a small man, with a slight build, narrow shoulders, and a thick head of dark hair. His clothes, and the harem mark on his cheek, marked him as a damned soul of unprecedented privilege. It was the first time Logan had ever, on Earth or in Hell, encountered the casual decadence of the truly wealthy.

Dressed in a bronze vest and maroon waistcoat, both heavily embroidered with gold filigree, de Sade looked like the French noble he had been in life. Lace frills extended over his wrists and around a thin neck. Freshly laundered black trousers fell precisely over the tops of polished, black leather shoes.

Such extravagance and de Sade was only a favored servant! Logan could not help but think about the crude conditions he and Beauty lived in, scrambling daily to survive. He felt like a barbarian seeing the modern world for the first time.

Logan reminded himself that the wealth de Sade was wearing so casually, and if he was being honest with himself was so jealous of, was being earned by selling souls into slavery. The “gentleman” walking beside him, and everything about this place, was evil in its purest form. Logan could see it in the way the man’s eyes kept wandering over Beauty’s curves with a gleam of sadistic anticipation.

De Sade noticed his attention and smiled back.

“If half of what I’ve heard about this guy is true, he would probably enjoy a good beating. This sick fuck’s name is where the word “sadism” comes from,” Logan thought back.

“He is a vile creature.” Coyote agreed. “But remember that you are as well. That you are Karl Denke, serial killer, cannibal, and hunter of damned souls. To sell a lie you have to become the lie until it feels like truth.”

“Would have been easier to sell if I could have convinced even a few of Alan’s people to pretend to be captives.” Logan gave a mental shrug. “Oh well. I guess I can’t blame them for not being willing to walk into the proverbial Lion’s Den just on my word alone.”

Coyote grinned in his head. “Don’t take it personally. Being allied with a demon and a Hellhound did not exactly help you sell the idea of pretend slavery.”

The walk to the front door of the keep provided ample opportunity to assess the castle defenses from the inside. Logan was relieved to see that Seralla may have been truthful about the number of guards. There were only two at every gate and one on either side of the wall on patrol, plus a few standing watches on the roofs. If they worked twelve hours shifts, then the approximate number of guards should be no more than thirty or so.

For such a large fortification, he suspected it could have easily have housed ten times that number. Such light defenses were strong evidence that Baroness Graveek felt secure enough not to pay the enormous cost of maintaining a standing army. It was that overconfidence that Logan was counting on.

"Remember that we cannot predict her powers and I dare not speak to you in her presence," Coyote reminded him.

De Sade led him past both gatehouses and up the stairs to the front door on the second floor of the keep, a last line of defense if all else failed. Logan braced himself against whatever he might witness inside. After almost three months in Hell, this would be his first time walking into an actual building. Having seen Hell’s cruelty and de Sade’s finery, it could be anything from horror to opulence.

This was it. Once inside, there would be no chance of escape if the plan went wrong. He and Beauty would be trapped.

A quick glance showed the same uncertainty on Beauty’s face. As expected, she had not been fond of this idea to infiltrate as Karl Denke and his prisoner. Logan could hardly blame her. If anything went wrong, they would both suffer in ways he could not even begin to imagine.

De Sade open the doored and waved them in with a smile and a bow.

Beyond was a long, rectangular chamber. A vaulted ceiling, supported by a latticework of thick, black, wooden beams, rose twenty feet above their heads. Black metal chandeliers hung from chains in a long line casting a shimmering, golden light from a hundred candles. High windows of real glass allowed in the ruddy light of day. The floor was a checkerboard pattern of polished, black and scarlet, stone checkered squares. Lining the stone walls was a series of statuettes on pedestals of nude men and women carved in exquisite detail. One was of a person in exaggerated pleasure. The next was a posture of agony. Pain and pleasure alternated down both sides of the great hall.

A human guard stood at attention to the left and right of a raised platform at the far end of the hall. Both were muscular, handsome men, bare-chested, and marked on the left cheek as Harem. Each wore a sword and pistol at their side and looked like they knew how to use them.

On the platform was a large, gilded chair that was almost a throne. Standing behind the chair and to the left was a lovely, brunette human woman. On the right was a smoke-colored, four-eyed male demon. Both were dressed in rich finery like de Sade.

None of them compared to the astonishing creature sitting in the chair.

Layers of midnight blue skirt fell away from a waist-high split in the fabric to reveal long, shapely, plum-colored legs sheathed in thigh high nylons and knee-high stiletto boots. A black leather belt chased in silver cinched a tiny waist, as did a black leather corset across her torso. Abundant cleavage threatened to spill out over the top of the corset. Black leather, fingerless gloves were like a second skin over delicate hands and long, black claws.

Plump, black lips, and arched black eyebrows framed a pert nose and glittering, silver eyes. Hair like midnight silk curled on top of her head and hung around her face in soft curls around rams horns curled on either side of her head. Those eyes watched him approach with an expression of hunger as cruel and sharp as a knife.

Logan stopped when de Sade did and bowed in a similar fashion.

“Karl Denke,” de Sade intoned. “You have the honor of being in the presence of Baroness Graveek, Lady of the Wastelands, and master procurer of the finest souls in all the land.”

“Baroness.” Logan, unsure how best to respond, bowed again.

He repressed a shiver as she replied in a sultry voice that glided over his skin. “Well met, Karl Denke.” Her eyes shifted to Beauty, hands bound behind her back, and leashed at his side. “And what have we here? A demon held captive by a human… how unusual. Have you brought me a gift?”

“My dinner,” Logan responded in his best Denke impression.

The Baroness cocked one delicate eyebrow. “Yes, I have heard about your particular… appetites. How interesting. I assume then that your hunt was successful?”

Logan thought about Coyote’s advice when they had discussed the plan back in the cavern. The best lie is built on truth. Logan jerked on the leash, nearly pulling Beauty off of her feet. “This one and I are all that remain.”

The eyes of the Baroness narrowed ah she looked at him. “That upsets you. Why is that?”

Her question sent a bolt of alarm down Logan’s spine. He had been thinking about Karen as he said it. Had he revealed more than intended in his voice or body language? He reminded himself that this was an Elder demon, possibly ancient, and no one to underestimate.

“It was a hard fight,” he replied truthfully. “Some of my own fell.”

“Ah.” Her reply glided over his flesh, revealing nothing of the devious thoughts swirling behind those silver eyes. It felt like being under a microscope, as if Graveek could see deeper than skin. Deep enough to read his thoughts and emotions. Logan resisted the urge to fidget with nervous energy. “Well then, I look forward to sharing in a well-earned celebration dinner. My own cook and kitchen shall be at your disposal.”

Logan nodded. They had prepared for this possibility. “Of course, Baroness, but it will require a few days of preparation and conditioning. Fear adds flavor and cures the meat.”

“Very interesting.” Her eyes slid over to de Sade. “Careful, pet. This one just might have some new tricks to teach you.”

De Sade kept his face carefully neutral but his eyes flashed with anger. “As you say, Mistress.”

The demon smiled in evil satisfaction, then paused as she sniffed at the air. Her eyes settled back on Logan like a weight. “Come closer, Karl Denke.”

Nervously, Logan stepped toward the raised platform. The two guards closed in to form a human shield between him and the Baroness. She leaned forward and sniffed again. A slow smile of delight and curiosity shaped her lips.

“You have a remarkable vitality… Karl Denke.” There was a glimmer in her eyes that made the hairs on the back of Logan’s neck stand up. “How interesting that your Master has allowed you to build up such a powerful Essence. Does he not feed on you?”

“He does.” It was the only response Logan could think of to give and hoped it was the right call to make.

“Such restraint to leave you with so much.” Graveek licked her lips. “I don’t know that I would be able to resist such delicious… temptation.”

He had no idea how to respond to that and simply bowed in acknowledgment. A long moment of silence settled over the room as her gaze slowly moved up and down his body. Finally, she seemed to rouse out of whatever deep thoughts were coiling in her mind and leaned back into her chair with a sultry smile.

“De Sade, see that our guest’s weapons are secured and he is settled comfortably, after a cell has been made available for his… prize, of course.” Her silver eyes settled once again on Beauty. There was a gleeful sense of malice in her expression. “It’s no less than this one deserves for allowing herself to be bested by a mere human. Let her reap the rewards of her weakness.”

Logan swallowed hard. “I would prefer to keep my prize where I can watch her.”

The baroness laughed. It was a soft, melodious sound that somehow still managed to feel like rolling in broken glass. “Tell him my rule, my pet.”

De Sade nodded. “Animals will be treated as such until they have learned to obey.”

Graveek bared her teeth in a corpse smile. “Put her in a cell of submission.”

After the interview with the Baroness, De Sade led him and his “prisoner” to the other tower, past the second floor that was a guard's barracks where Logan managed a fast count of more than twenty beds and less than a dozen guards sleeping or dicing. Up a winding stone stair, they climbed to a stout, wooden door on the third floor flanked by two guards. Even having some idea what to expect, Logan had to force himself not to react as de Sade led him and Beauty inside.

Cages made from metal bars lined three of the four walls. Most of them were barely a six-foot square. More than half of those were occupied by men and women sitting on the floor and staring out at him with identical expressions of hopelessness and pain. The remaining cells were half that size, no larger than a dog kennel. Anything human-sized would not be able to stand or lie down, only huddle in misery.

To his horror, Logan suddenly understood what a “cell of submission” was as de Sade approach one of the smaller cages.

Putting Beauty in that cage was the hardest thing Logan had ever tried to do. His muscles locked. His hands refused to close and lock the door. Wild thoughts ran through his mind.

I could snap de Sade’s scrawny neck right now. Ten guards downstairs but most are sleeping. We could maybe bluff our way out or kill enough of them to get the advantage… make a run for the gate, free Coyote, and never look back!

Beauty must have seen the doubt in his eyes and chose to save him from his own indecision by the simple act of exploding into violent motion. Hands still bound behind her, Logan felt the top of her head hammer into his chest and sent him tumbling across the floor.

“Guards!” De Sade shrieked in a high, shrill voice. “Guards!”

Beauty pounced on him taking them both to the ground. Her teeth sank into his shoulder as the guards rushed in. It took both of them to pull her off and not before she managed to viciously knee him in the balls hard enough for Logan to hear the impact from halfway across the room.

Logan rushed over, supposedly to help control her but in reality to protect her from retaliation until the Succubus was safely locked into the tiny cage. By the time it was done, one guard walked away with a deep bite on one hand. The other had to be carried out after Beauty nearly disemboweled him with her clawed feet. It was a long time before de Sade could uncurl from the fetal position on the floor.

“That looked like it hurt.” Logan offered as he looked down at him. “Good thing you enjoy pain, huh?”