Menthis is (loosely) based on Mephisto, from Yoshiaki Kawajiri's anime Monster City. I love Yoshiaki's work - Cyber City Oedo, Wicked City, Ninja Scroll, X, Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust, Animatrix… Mephisto's time onscreen is about the same as Hokochu's, one minute, maybe two at most. Dammit.

       I've changed the name because Mephisto is just too ordinary…


The Master

She scrutinised the room, checking everything minutely. The master's other servants had, of course, paid close heed to her 'suggestions': the bright lighting had been changed for something softer, the clutter of overly-fragranced, overly decorative cosmetics replaced by the master's own discreet toiletries, the exotic and potent drinks replaced with pure water, fruit juices and the one alcoholic liqueur the master allowed himself, a fiery red spirit from his realm.
      The other servants had, however, left the master's sleeping arrangements to her, as was only right. She'd beckoned to a couple of them and moved into the bedroom, having them strip the sumptuous satin sheets and velvet covers from the huge curtained bed and replace them with cool silk-smooth pure cotton scented with jasmine. She was quite proud of that touch: it had taken her years, little by little, to persuade her master that he didn't need to sleep on a hard bed in rough sheets, that he could allow himself a little luxury, that he didn't need to punish himself continually for being part demon… She sighed silently, smoothing the one cover he allowed himself, a traditional blanket of woven hartha feathers, pure white, so fine and soft she could hardly feel them, and warm enough to weather an arctic blizzard. The master would need a decent sleep tonight…
      The others retired for the night, bowing slightly as they left for their own quarters on the dark side of the corridor, and she muted the lights a little, lowered the heating - this whole place was so hot! - poured a glass of the spirit ready for him, then stood waiting at the door for his arrival.
      She didn't have to wait too long. One of the palace slaves opened the door and ushered Lord Menthis into his apartment, bowing as it closed the door again. She moved forwards, stretching up to slide the long red cote from her master's shoulders - shoulders that were, she noted automatically, rigid with tension and distaste. She laid the cote over a hanger and gestured to the single chair over by a window that looked out over a darkened sinuous landscape.
      "Please be seated, my lord."
      He gazed down at her, weariness evident in beautiful dark eyes, and loped to the seat, settling into it with a sigh of relief. She cut a tiny slit in her wrist with a sharp fingernail, trickling steaming blood into his glass, handed it to him then knelt at his feet, easing off the black high boots and gently stroking the pale shapely feet beneath.
      "A… difficult… reception, my lord?"
      He touched her hair absently as he sipped the drink, flexing his foot as she placed it in her lap, strong thumbs pressing and kneading at the pads.
      "Indeed, could one of Lord Hokochu's affairs be anything but?" He sighed and closed his eyes, relaxing slightly as she increased the pressure, working up the high instep to the ankle then stroking down the top of the foot, gently pulling at the toes. For a little while there was silence as she worked, then the low, dark voice came again.
      "You have pleased him. He has requested the… loan… of your services while we are here."
      She bowed her head briefly, not stopping the massage.
      "I did as you instructed, my lord."
      "And was it… offensive?"
      "No, my lord."
      Another silence, then, reluctantly,
      "I will tell him he may have you during the day. But you are to spend your nights here, and perform your usual duties during the evening and morning."
      "As you wish, my lord."
      He drained the glass, dropping it into her swiftly-outstretched hand, then stood as she moved out of his way.
      "Should I run a bath, my lord?"
      He sighed wearily. It would really be too much effort... But he hated going to bed without some sort of cleansing.
      "You will bathe me."
      She stood swiftly and bowed.
      "Of course, my lord." Reaching forwards she slid open the fastening to his black leggings, easing them down narrow hips and long legs, gazing wistfully at the large lax organ that was revealed, then, laying them aside - she'd tidy up later, while he slept - stood again to pull the high-necked, long sleeved black tunic up and over his head.
      He turned and strode to the bathroom, leaving her to hurry along behind him, admiring as ever the way the long, long fall of straight silky black hair brushed over his buttocks. Later she'd brush that hair, feel it between her fingers - but for now…
      He seated himself on a stool in the shower unit, eyes closed as she used the spray and a soft sponge to sluice his skin. No prolonged luxurious bath, this: she'd been with her master for long enough to know that tonight, he wished for his bed as quickly as it could be contrived. Her actions swift and efficient, not lingering over his pale lean body and hurrying with his hair, it wasn't long before she was able to swathe him in a soft towel and dry him quickly but carefully…
      His eyes were half closed by the time she ushered him through to the bedroom. He was, she realised, very tired, but also still tense: the opulence of Lord Hokochu's habitation offended his ascetic soul, and he would not sleep well unless soothed.
      "Would it please you to lie down, my lord?"
      He eyed her for a moment, then flung back the feather cover and slid onto the bed, settling himself on his front with his head pillowed on his arms. Reaching for the light, fluffy lotion she'd had specially made - non-oily, easily absorbed, delicately scented - she knelt at his feet and began to massage the lean warm body beneath her.
      His skin was only a shade or two darker than the white of the sheet, and with the pure blackness of his hair he created a beautiful monochromatic vision in the rich blue room. Strong small fingers eased the lotion into smooth skin, pressing gently, kneading knots of tensed muscle, up one leg, then the other, small palms rubbing circles over tight buttocks, thumbs working carefully either side of his spine up to his shoulders, then kneading, soothing the tension there.
      "My lord, will it please you to turn over?"
      He mumbled sleepily, but managed to squirm onto his back, relaxing into sleep as knowing hands stroked his chest, fondling the soft little mouth-like hollows that took the place of nipples, then kneading down the lean muscular body to his hips…
      She eyed his groin, then glanced at his face. He was half erect, but almost asleep: if she pleasured him now, would it ensure pleasant dreams - or would it wake him? Pouring a little more lotion onto her hands, she lightly stroked his organ, teasing out the tentacles that formed the upper half, watching his face, but he remained drowsy, smiling slightly. Reassured, she settled herself between his thighs and lowered her face to his groin.
      He moaned very faintly as she took him into her mouth, the tentacles elongating to caress her teeth and forked tongue as she suckled, pulling him further into her throat and within reach of the stroking cilia that lined the hot channel, one hand fondling the bulky sac below his organ, the other reaching for her own groin, stroking herself. It would not take long tonight.
      And indeed, her long prehensile tongue worked its usual magic: her master came, each sturdy pene jetting its cargo of hot, spicy semen into her mouth as she squeezed the sac, feeling tightness gradually slacken as each little vesicle emptied and pulled back up into his body. Sighing as she brought herself to orgasm, she carefully allowed him to slide from her mouth, licking gently as the organ settled back into its resting state.
      She glanced up the bed and smiled wistfully: he was soundly asleep, a faint satisfied smile on his face, body lax, limp and comfortable. She slid off the bed and eased the feather cover over the pale warm body, brushing a lock of hair gently back from his face as he turned onto his side.
      Soundlessly and swiftly she tidied away the clothes her master had worn that day and readied his garments for the morrow. After a quick check of the bathroom to make sure all was in order, and a last glance to ensure her master was still sleeping soundly, Lin finally took herself off to bed.

"Hard day?" Beal, the master's major-domo grinned up at her from his cross-legged position on the wide pallet they were habitually sharing. Though he was naked and ready to sleep, the minor demon was still busy with the household accounts.
      "Just long," Lin yawned and stretched mightily.
      "Do you need sustenance?"
      "No, thank you," the female demon smiled happily - having ingested both her master's and Lord Hokochu's semen today she wasn't hungry for the moment. She smirked at her friend. "I do need to be fucked though."
       Beal's tiny black eyes glinted in his scaled face and he ran a thick tongue over rubbery grey lips. Lin had no clear idea of her demonic heritage but Beal was convinced there was succubus in there somewhere. The small female had a potent sex-drive and sometimes it was hard for her to act as a body-servant to someone she found devastatingly attractive, someone whose higher status put him well out of her reach. Fortunately Beal was more than willing to give her what she craved.
      "C'mere," he leered, reaching out with a clawed hand to grab her tunic. Lin giggled and squeaked as Beal roughly threw her to lie face down on the pallet. Already flushed and panting with lust she hastily hauled her tunic up as he tore at her trousers. Lin raised her hips, then curving her short, stiff and hairless tail to one side she looked back over her shoulder at the brutish demon.
      "Hard." she whispered, her voice tight with need.
      Beal grinned, revealing all of his jagged, unwholesome teeth and slammed into the small female's body, digging his claws into her plump hips.
      The major domo was intimately familiar with Lin's sexual requirements and he'd wrung three climaxes out of the plain little demon before coming himself.
      "Better?" Beal nuzzled the back of Lin's neck.
      "Mmmrph..." the female was sprawled, limp and sated, over the pallet.
      "Good, sleep well," Beal snuggled in tightly beside her and closed his eyes ready to sleep. "Oh, I forgot to say," he yawned, "that new female isn't pulling her weight."
      Lin grunted sleepily.
      "Tell her to do better or we'll eat her."
      "Will do," Beal licked her shoulder. "G'night..."

Menthis dreamed…

He hadn't wanted to attend this convocation. He never wanted to attend them, being happiest in his own ice-wrapped small realm tucked away where no one could bother him, studying, observing… But he'd allowed himself to be persuaded - partly, he had to admit, by Lin, who had gently and persistently suggested that it would be useful if he were there, to ensure that no proposed activities impinged too drastically on the human world of which he was tangentially a part. He suspected she had an ulterior motive too, but if so she had kept it well hidden.
      He loathed such events. In general he disliked his demon-kin, finding them coarse, uncouth, lewd and loud, and so far he'd seen nothing to make him change his mind. And as for their host…! The self-styled Dread Lord was a posturing moron. A very pretty, very powerful posturing moron, admittedly, but a moron all the same…
      He sighed in his sleep, turning over and pulling the hartha-feather cover further up his chest.
      Hokochu… the only reason he staged these affairs was to demonstrate his… his what? Bad taste? His wealth? His superiority?
      No, not this last - or at least, only in territorial terms. His ever-expanding empire was an ever-present threat to those fiefs that bordered it, and he made much capital out of the fact, using fear to keep the smaller realms in line. A boor and a bully, yet dangerous enough for all that.
      Under other circumstances he might be an interesting subject for study.
      Menthis stirred restlessly, turning again, frowning slightly in his sleep. His first close encounter with the demon lord had been - fraught. Hokochu hadn't quite demanded the use of his groom while they were here, but it came close, and Menthis, for all his philosophical reserve and resigned acknowledgment of the Dread Lord's lack of manners, had been severely tempted to refuse…
      Then again, he had sent Lin to their host in the first place, spurred on by some strange, unnameable impulse.
      Though perhaps not quite so strange. Perhaps 'know thine enemy' explained it best.
      And the morrow brought the main reception. The vast meeting chamber would be filled with demons high and low, of all realms, elements and types, and he would be forced to mingle, to… chat… The only thing that made it bearable was the fact that at least he would be able to observe, to record, so that on his return home he might add their details to his studies.
      And unless he rested now, he'd be in no fit state to handle the demands of the day. Sinking into a deeper sleep, he turned his mind to thoughts of home, to drifting snow and sparkling winds…

Lin woke to the feel of Beal thrusting inside her - almost the best way to wake up, in her opinion. However, her master was also close to waking…
      "Get a move on!" she growled over her shoulder. Beal grinned and obligingly pounded harder, coming with a throbbing rush, one clawed finger rubbing firmly between her thighs. She shivered and came, internal muscles squeezing hard, holding Beal firmly in place for long moments before she relaxed and pulled away.
      "'morning…"
      She grinned at him, hastily pulled on leggings and tunic, and hurried through to her master's bed. Wouldn't do for him to wake and she not be there now, would it?
      He was still asleep, and wouldn't waken for another few minutes. She slid onto the bed, pulling the cover up until his long legs and smooth groin lay open to her gaze, then leaned forwards and began to lick, the two halves of her tongue easing their way between the pene to delve into the sensitive inner channel, stroking the smooth hot flesh. Menthis groaned and bucked up further into her mouth, tentacles lengthening, pressing themselves against the cilia in her throat as she kneaded his sac firmly.
      She loved this, her master all warm and soft and drowsy after a night's sleep, hers to fondle and caress as she wished just for a minute or two. Her other hand crept between her legs to stroke herself, timing it so that she came as he did, the stimulation rippling her throat muscles more than usual, wringing a bitten back cry as her master came, copiously, each pene throbbing and spurting in her throat.
      As he slowly settled back down, quivering, she very carefully eased him out of her mouth, tongue wrapping each pene as she did so, settling the organ back against his groin and risking a quick kiss to the sensitive skin where it joined his body. He blinked at her as she knelt upright and smiled.
      "Good morning, my lord. Will you break your fast?"
      He yawned, delicate small fangs glinting in the light, and nodded, and she hastened to comply…

She stood back and regarded him admiringly. Bathed, his hair brushed into a gleaming fall of jet silk, dressed meticulously in a slightly more form-fitting version of his customary black with a slightly more elaborately decorated calf-length crimson cote than usual… he was, she thought, quite beautiful.
      But very lonely. She wasn't sure he even realised it himself, but his life was very empty, and always had been.
      She hoped that might change, after today…




© 2003 September 10th Joules and Lutra



© 2003 WordWrights

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