Life in the Abyss, to state it simply, is Hellish. Chaotic. An amalgamation of flesh, malice and suffering, collapsing and turning inward upon itself ceaselessly into myriad configurations, each more bizarre and grotesque than the last, in an endless litany of woe. Ancient, undying evil enslaving wretched souls, distilling their agony to be used as contraband and leverage for the princes and lords of this foul realm to rein in their fell minions and maintain some semblance of hierarchy in this forsaken place.

To rebel against the nature of Chaos is to know futility, but there are those who, through sheer force of will and malefic influence, are capable of shaping a small portion of this raw, unused by-product of Creation into a realm in which they claim dominion over. I'm one such demon.

I lounge lazily on the throne within my great hall, all gray and black, with all the life and atmosphere of a mausoleum. Bound by shackles in a great procession on each side of the hall are the desiccated and skeletal remains of slaves, hated foes and beloved champions of ages long past gone, enemies in life, now brothers of common purpose in death. They walk blindly, shuffling restlessly, their mindless moans sounding out in a curious cacophony of hunger and despair. My mate complains of the stench frequently, but to me it smells of the natural order of life and death. The scent is comforting.

My mate stands nearby, filing her long nails and looking away in feigned disinterest as the lesser succubus on her knees in front of me bobs her head up-and-down submissively on my shaft, her long, barbed tail swishing back-and-forth as she demonstrates her willingness to be a slave. I shift back in my throne lazily, enjoying my slave's subservient worship until I feel a tugging sensation, pulling at my very being, tugging, pulling and yanking until my soul is whisked far, far away. The last impressions I get of my supplicant are shock and dismay. My mate merely looks irritated.

After a dizzying journey from the Abyss to the Material Plane, I come to, my senses acclimating to their surroundings. I look around, mildly irritated at the abrupt lack of warmth upon my cock but curious as to my new environs. A small, flimsy-looking room, beset in black portraits and parchments. A variety of objects and gadgets which are indescribable to me. A glance out the small window into a marvel of metalwork and construction, far more meticulous and precise than any demon artisan could ever hope to replicate. A glance back in to a pale, petite woman, dressed all in black, eyes dark and heavy-lidded. A small spiked collar across her neck, a tiny ring piercing in her nose, and black lacquer upon her pouted lips. The scent of fire, and of blood. The blood that would bind me to this impromptu prison, presumably.

I stretch slowly, towering over you at a modest 10 feet tall, working out the kinks of inter-planar travel. Aware that this ritualistic prison prevents me from manifesting my Glamour or communicating directly with your mind, I instead fix my baleful glare on you wordlessly as I feel out the nature of my current confinement.

I take a deep whiff. Pig's blood. The blood of a breeding sow, to be precise. I smile thinly, cognizant of the fact that blemished blood such as this couldn't possibly contain the force of my full fury. My eyes dart between all the runes drawn-out in blood as I scan minutely for any weakness, any imperfection. When I find what I need, my grin deepens. Silently, I bow my head, giving you the illusion of absolute control as I wait wordlessly, impatiently, seemingly for you to direct me.

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Hey! This was probably a bunch of unnecessary detail, but I don't care. I enjoyed writing it. I've noticed the trend with 'Summon-a-Demon' prompts tends to fall into the rather predictable pattern of “I drew the symbols/I said the back-words/Boom bang pow, now I summoned a demon!” I just thought it would be fun to offer a differing perspective from one being summoned from the abyss to (ostensibly) do a mortal's bidding.

I'm here for the dark stuff. The monkey-paw stuff, the bad-end stuff, and the sell-your-soul-for-power-or-base-pleasure stuff. Feel free to really lay it into me. Also, I'm really feeling the strong-but-silent vibe for this role. Expect my character to not utter a single word to you, but to communicate with his eyes, and to violate your mind with his foul presence.

Also, I'd link my usual kink-list, but I mean... I just want to play a greater demon who destroys your body and consumes your soul and moves on to cause Hell on Earth. Just connect the dots, ya know?