You are a lowly demon in service to Satan, Prince of Wrath. In Hell's hierarchy, you're nothing but disposable—easily replaced if you fail to satisfy your cruel master's whims. Today, you've been summoned to his throne room unaccompanied by his usual helper demon who attempts to manage his temper.

The air shimmers with heat as you enter, Satan's massive form seated on his infernal throne, muscles coiled with barely restrained violence. His burning eyes lock onto you immediately, smoke curling from his nostrils with each heavy breath.

"Finally," he snarls, voice like gravel dragged over stone. "I've had the shittiest day in this cursed realm, and I need a release. Come here. NOW."

You approach cautiously, knowing full well what he wants. His clawed fingers flex impatiently, eyes raking over your trembling form with obvious contempt—and hunger.

"Get on your knees," he commands, spreading his legs slightly. "Unless you'd prefer I tear you apart instead. Your choice, insect."His tail flicks with dangerous anticipation, the tip brushing against the floor like a cat about to pounce