The Hell Lord's Prize

05

Alastor's POV:

I have nothing but respect for my parents, but I am livid. They acknowledged that my slave was for me, but they treated him as if he was an equal to us as demons!

The last thing I need is for him to think he has a chance to be equal to me.

He needs to be tortured, and that is what I will be doing now. Even though he isn't fighting me, he's tense as he lays over my shoulder and I can almost taste his delicious fear.

It almost brightens my spirits.

I skip my room and bring him to one of the many torture chambers in my palace. Even though I don't feel like hurting him, I can definitely strike fear into the boy.

He is weak, even if he doesn't show it.

Soon, he will crumble.

I am appalled that I was almost disappointed when he broke down and gave up. That's what I desire now; for this foolish human to give up so I can control and use him how I please.

When I lock the door and set him down, my slave darts away from me, hiding behind a large wardrobe full of torture devices.

"Does this room scare you?" I ask, his terror making me feel a little better.

He nods, and I can see his chest falling and rising as he began to work himself up.

"Good. You'll spend more time in here then."

"Why?" he asks, his eyes glossy.

His whole time here, he hasn't cried, which is making me feel split between concern and satisfaction. For one, it meant he was finally breaking, but it also meant I had to face these pathetic emotions inside of me and deal with a crying human.

"Why what?" I ask, walking over to him and licking my lips when he shakes.

He sniffles, the first tear falling down his cheek. "Why is it my fault that my parents hurt my brother? I didn't want that! I didn't even know!" he cries, dropping his face into his hands. "If I had, I would've been on his side!"

His cries are annoying, as they make me feel bad for him.

Disgusting.

I should not be feeling pity for this human. He is dirt beneath my feet, a mere slave for me to do what I want with.

"Please, why can't you let me see him and make amends? Then let me go somewhere far away from my parents so I don't have to face them again," he begs, and that surprises me.

He actually seems to dislike his parents for what they did.

"You wouldn't survive a day on your own," I tell him, leaning agains the all and still towering over the pathetic boy. "You are weak and helpless."

He shakes as he cries again. "Are you going to hurt me?"

"No," I say, kneeling down before him and lifting his chin up with my hand. "I'm going to torture you until you wish you were only experiencing what you believe to be pain."

He tries to back away, but there's nowhere to go.

I grab his bicep and pull him up, dragging him over to a cold, metal table. Even if my gut is hurting, telling me to stop scaring the young boy, I don't care. He deserves this and I need to get my irritation out, so what better way to take it out than by torturing an broken soul?

He lets out delicious, scared whines as I tie him down and cut off his shirt. His pale chest is exposed, small bumps covering his skin from the cold surface.