Tempted

by K. M. Liss

  Tempted

  Enlightenment Series

  Part I

  K.M.Liss

  TEMPTED

  Enlightenment Part I

  By Katrina Liss

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2014 © K.M.Liss

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  K.M.Liss © XSEX Books

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book is sold subject to conditions that it cannot by way of trade be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the author’s prior consent, in any form or cover, other than which it is published.

  Disclaimer: This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it, while at times based on real figures, are purely the work of the author’s imagination.

  Thanks & Acknowledgements

  Love and thanks to my family and friends, for believing in me and encouraging me to write my little heart out.

  Current Series by Katrina Liss

  Dr Sex Series

  Move Me

  Layers of Sin

  Enlightenment

  Two new series coming soon

  Games of Mastery

  Delusional

  2015

  Full book list at the end of this book

  Uvall

  Demon of Nights

  White winged – Bright eyed - Full bodied and male.

  The taker of women.

  A high Duke of the Underworld. A warlord ruling 37 legions of dark spirits.

  He can manipulate time. He can set foes blindly against one another.

  Formidable, cunning and subtly evil, he bestows his gifts kindly, with smiling congenial eyes.

  The most feared demon of them all - Bael's champion - All knowing, ancient, and wise.

  The darkest duke to walk the earth.

  Chapter 1

  Uvall's ears absorbed the message hungrily and his whole body reverberated with the calling. Although he had summoned the brethren silently, Lord Bael was not subtle in his invitation. But this meeting was worthy of such a forceful and rousing reveille.

  This was to be an audience like no other.

  He collected his wits and dragged his body out of its slumber. With a long and uncomfortable yawn, which almost unhinged his jaw, he arose from the stone slab in his bed chamber. His limbs protested loudly as he took his first faltering steps for many a day. Automatically stretching his white wings to their fullest extent, he flapped them back and forth, grimacing in pain as the blood forced its way through his constricted vessels, returning life to his extremities. A flurry of loosened feathers fluttered through the air like snow. The ash around his feet rose—disturbed by the vacuum he had created—sweeping upwards in a choking, smothering cloud. It stung his nostrils and cloyed the back of his throat unpleasantly until he sneezed and coughed, expelling the disgusting sulfurous stench. He shuddered. He would never become accustomed to the taste and smell of brimstone ash if he lived in Hell a hundred millennia.

  He needed to dress. Clothing was not worn in the caverns, but a meeting with Bael, his Lord, demanded it.

  Reaching toward his small collection of possessions on the table to his side, he picked up his heavy, black velvet hip-cloth and wrapped it around his lean naked loins, fastening it with its solid gold buckle, so it sat comfortably low. His long taloned finger brushed his embossed gold insignia. It was his emblem, and one he wore with pride.

  He turned and observed himself in his discolored vanity glass. After plucking a stray white feather from his head, he ran his fingers through the long, dark, fall of his hair. Despite his age he had the appearance of young male athlete. And his body and exceptionally handsome visage were set in stone. Never changing. His bared his teeth, so white and perfect, and then he smiled at himself. His appearance only ever attracted the right kind of interest. Intense female interest. His body served him well in that respect. Very well.

  He took a few paces to his left.

  For a moment he stood idly, his hands braced against the arched doorway, taking stock of his cavern beyond ― the darkened abyss to which he was bound. It stretched endlessly before him, in all directions. A sea of red and black, lit here and there by torches positioned around the stairways and open areas. The heat in the caverns was oppressive - way beyond human endurance - but bearable for a demon and his brethren. A tiny imp passed him by, in a world of his own, suddenly catching sight of his master in the doorway. Uvall smiled as the little creature started and bowed his hairless red head, scurrying off on all fours, his long tail twitching behind him. His eyes swept the activity in the cavern. The constant movement of imps and the legion as they went about their day.

  Much the same as usual.

  But that was to be expected.

  His head titled upwards and he watched the descent. The lifeblood of Hell. The source from which everything grew. The material of their legion and the fabric of their society came from this never ending supply of corrupt souls.

  The damned were dripping steadily, like human rain, through the reddened Ethos of Reality, the space betwixt the realities and the Underworld. His eyes followed through, to their destination below.

  Millions of lost souls swirled in the vast pool of flame in the center of the cavern. Their searing misery was all that they had left to ponder of their wretched existence.

  A group of his lesser-minded legion gathered at the edge of the inferno, snickering loudly as they tortured the unfortunate few with sharp pikes, merely because they had the power to do so.

  He snorted with a mixture of disgust and bewilderment.

  Little things please little minds, and unfortunately there are many small minded in my charge.

  He had never understood the torturing of the pathetic souls who had fallen from grace. It was like plucking the wings from a half dead butterfly, which lay helpless on the ground. Pointless and unfulfilling. A pastime only to be indulged in, by those with very little imagination.

  Uvall shifted his stance, leaning on his arm against the stone doorpost. He had higher interests filling his thoughts. He imagined the pleasures open to his brethren after their coming.

  This underworld was nothing more than his prison. The shackles of heat, despair, and pain. It was Hell in every sense of the word. Devoid of beauty and of pleasure. The upper echelons were much better. Cooler, more luxurious and quiet. But Hell wasn't a place of comfort. It was unfortunate he was bound to live in it for all eternity. Unlike the creatures swarming the caverns, Uvall was a man of taste. He liked the finer things in life. And there was nothing fine in the depths of Hell.

  He left his cell doorway and walked to the adjacent stair, descending, and crossing the busy space before the fiery pool. “Out of the way, you fools,” he boomed.

  The imps in his path received a kick of his foot if their departure was not swift enough, and they yelped and scurried away. He stood on the side of the pit, the heat of the fire scorching his skin, casting his razor-sharp blue eyes around the edge, until he found his first lieutenant.

  Ah, there he was.

  He smiled to himself. The little demon was idly swinging his legs, toasting them, just inches above the pool, the flames licking at his ankles. Xonil possessed an extraordinary ability to withstand extreme heat. Uvall was sure he could take a bath in the fiery pool, and survive the ordeal unscathed, if he chose.

  “Xonil
, our Lord has spoken. It's soon time to rise,” Uvall called out to him. “Awaken the Legatus, ask them to dress and lead them to Infamy, and quickly.” He raised his voice loudly, so as to be heard above the incessant hum of the agonized moaning, a few feet below. Xonil stood and bowed his head in greeting.

  “Yes, Master, right away,” he answered loudly.

  Uvall turned and stalked off on his muscular legs, to await his Lord's instruction in the unhallowed Hall of Infamy.

  As he made his way up the wide stone-stepped channel to the upper echelons, his mind focused itself. If he hadn't misread the importance of this meeting in Bael's tone, he could be on the upper surface very soon.

  Maybe as soon as tomorrow?

  He craved some excitement. A visit to the realities would be more than welcome. It had been quite a while since he'd set foot on the surface. Bael did not allow too frequent visits. He kept Hell inside Hell where he could control it properly.

  The human world tempted him with its unique pleasures. He wanted to taste food in his mouth again and drink raw whiskey ― to indulge in a spot of gambling, perhaps ― and of course, women. How he loved human women. He'd have his fill of all of that when he could spare himself from his duties.

  And perhaps during my duties as well.

  He chuckled happily.

  It was one of the benefits of rank. Being able to do as he pleased. And, of course, he held very high rank.

  He was one of the fifty nobles of the Underworld. One of the six cavern ruling dukes, alongside Vepar, Shax, Biffrons, Stolas and Naberius.

  And even more importantly, he was but one small step away, from being third in line to the throne of the Underworld, preceded only by the two dark princes, Mammon and Lucifer.

  It seemed the time had arrived at last. How long they had awaited this fine moment. Uvall was more than ready to sweep the earth in the first phase of its enlightenment. There had been many battles for power in the realities before. Many times he had been called to action on behalf of his Lord. But they were minor disputes compared to this day. This was a new dawn, a new age, and soon it would be a new world.

  Uvall stood in the grand white hall as the fifty impatient nobles and the hundred and fifty Legatus, the leaders of each legion of Hell, filed in. Xonil appeared at his side, neatly attired, his hair looking a lot tidier than its usual wild tangle. He smiled at the thought of Xonil dragging a comb through his matted locks. It must have been a painful process.

  Finally, after waiting an age, his Lord graced them with his presence.

  Bael entered with long strides across the red and white checkered floor. His flaming whips coiled wildly about his ankles, snapping at anything he considered too close to his royal presence. His stunningly beautiful blonde handmaiden, Evita, followed meekly behind. Her eyes were downcast in respect, her sleek female form sheathed from her bosom to to her ankles in a black silk gown, emblazoned with the emblem of Bael on the center of her breast. Bael's long black robe swirled around his body like a storm cloud. He dismissed every face he passed, with a look of contempt and superiority in his bright red gaze.

  Uvall sighed to himself with annoyance.

  He loved to make a grand entrance like this. All eyes had to be upon him and in awe of the magnificence of his every move. And he always brought his woman with him. His beautiful trophy of power. Taunting the brethren with something they could never possess. It was, dare he think it, very thoughtless, immature and tiresome behavior for a Lord of his age and stature. But then again, he was the devil, pleasantries weren't in his nature. Taunting them was.

  Bael sat upon the white throne of Infamy and settled himself comfortably, running his hand through his long red curls. His handmaiden, the highly prized succubus, who attended to his every need, sat demurely at his naked feet, stroking his instep fondly with a pointed red talon. Bael lay his hand on Evita's head affectionately.

  Bael nodded to Lucifer, seated on the throne to his left, and Mammon to his right. The two Princes of Darkness returned his majestic greeting graciously.

  Uvall stared covetously at Evita, daydreaming of the exquisite pleasures of her flesh. His mouth watered with a rush of desire. He imagined his hands gripping those large mounds of her breasts, the feel of her around his cock. He wondered how she'd taste as his long tongue thrust inside her cunt, making her squirm and writhe in tortured pleasure. His manhood stirred fast. How he'd love to take her ― to take her hard ― to make her scream his name in the heights of painful ecstasy. She'd never forget the experience of being fucked by him. His eyes flared and his lip twitched with the beginnings of a wicked grin, which he swallowed hastily.

  She raised her eyes, sensing his rampant attention. His burning blue gaze locked onto her black pools, as he filled her mind with his desires. She stared for a moment, and then smiled enthusiastically. He already knew she wanted him. All women wanted him. He clasped his hands together, in front of himself to obscure the clear evidence of his deepening arousal. It wasn't the first time he'd told her mentally what he wanted to do to her, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last.

  Bael became aware that the stroking fingernail had stopped and her focus had moved from him. He gave her hair a sharp tug, causing her to wince in pain, silently. He felt a moment of pleasure at his minor triumph over Bael, then a little guilt that Evita had to suffer for it, but it all passed out of his demonic head very quickly.

  He clenched his fists taking control of his deeply primal urge to fuck her. He'd never have her. This perfect beauty before him. It would be the end of him. To touch but a hair on the head of a Lord's succubus was sacrilege. It was high treason. He would be fed to the souls, agonizingly slowly. Taken apart, piece by piece.

  He closed himself off and rose above the desires of the flesh. Now was not the time for such pointless distractions anyway. Greater things, much greater things, were now on the near horizon.

  Bael cleared his throat and sat silently. Another of his dramatic touches of address. He liked to keep them waiting. When the air of expectancy finally reached a level of fever pitch, he began.

  “The world is ready for us, my dear brethren. The scales of justice have been tipped in our favor. We are at the point of our rising...” Lord Bael's voice was silky soft as it traveled around the halls, caressing them gently and intimately. He paused for effect as they digested the news.

  A whispering broke out among those gathered.

  “Silence!” he bellowed, cracking his whip suddenly, with a blast of anger at the interruption. Uvall's ears reeled with the intensity of it. “As I said,” he continued in a strong tone, “we are at the point of our rising ― the lost souls now outnumber the saved, by two whole percent. Mankind has set himself on a spiral of self destruction and it is our task to ensure he continues. His corruption could be our triumph with very little effort.” He stopped to gaze around the hall, focusing on each of the six dukes intensely.

  The silence stretched between them, interminably, until he resumed.

  “But of course, as always, we have to consider our adversary. The Seraph will be having similar discourse, no doubt, and they will have their own plans to redress the decline of mortality. But we have our vast legions and speed at our disposal. It is important we act quickly to remove them from the surface of the earth. We shall set forth in one full turn of the day. All six of the cavern leaders must take their place on the continents. Uvall, you may manage this first phase as you see fit. As my commander in chief, I have complete faith in your judgment.”

  Uvall bowed his head respectfully at Bael, on receiving this unhallowed compliment.

  “Thank you, my Lord. I will relish the task.”

  “I'm sure you will, and I thank the higher God for providing you with your skill and insight.”

  The hall erupted with a nervous tittering of laughter.

  “Quiet...!” he bellowed again, his face thundering, and his red eyes darkened like a stormy night. “This is no laughing matter. This is a serious day. A day we have
awaited, for millennia. This is beginning of enlightenment.” He gazed around the unhallowed hall, slowly. “Now bow your heads, and pledge your vows to me... Uvall..” he nodded at him, indicating he should begin.

  The hall fell silent as the brethren put their hands together and pointed them outwards, in the gesture of pledge to their lord and master.

  Uvall led their chant of allegiance.

  “I shall cut down all who oppose my Lord's fiery sword.”

  All who oppose my Lord's fiery sword

  “I will take no prisoners for my Lord's sake.”

  No prisoners for my Lord's sake.

  “I pledge my life and body in my Lord's honor.”

  My life and body in my Lord's honor.

  Amet, my dark Lord Bael.”

  Amet, my dark Lord Bael.

  Uvall watched the self satisfied look arising on Bael's fine features at his requested idolatry. His mouth finally broke into a wide smile.

  “You may go, and quickly.” Lord Bael dismissed them with a flick of his hand, and they all scurried away, like rats scattering hither and thither. Uvall took his leave, as Xonil preceded him from the hall, but was stopped in his tracks by his master's voice.

  “Uvall,” Bael gestured with a beckoning finger, for him to come forth.

  “Yes, my Lord?”

  “I expect a fast and clean sweep. How do you intend to achieve it?”

  “Never you mind. It will be done,” Uvall replied, shortly.

  Bael chuckled loudly at his insolence. It had to be said, Bael had a good sense of humor when he was in the mood.

  “Ah, such secrecy, I see,” he chortled further, “you can entrust me with the detail on your victorious return. And Uvall, my fine friend, there will be great reward for you on that day. A chair at my side and a handmaiden. I have seen you looking at my Evita.” He gripped her by the hair and dragged her up to his level. She yelped with pain and her lip trembled with fear. But Bael released her, planting a kiss on her cheek, possessively. His message was plain. That being; she's mine, don't look at her like that again. “You may have one of the greatest beauties, for your own pleasure. She will accompany you on your earthly visits, after enlightenment has been achieved.”